These are my two best buddies these days.
I have a pair of socks that say 'left foot' and 'right foot' on them. I purposely wear them on the opposite feet, because socks are not the boss of me.
I am so excited that the firstlings of fall are here. I can't wait to wear my funky knee-high socks and sweaters. I can't wait to see the mountains transform into hues of autumn. I can't wait to make and eat all sorts of pumpkin-flavored treats. Pumpkin chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast? Yes, please.
Every time I read the directions in a recipe that say, "Batter will be slightly lumpy" I think, not in my house. Because who wants to bite into a pancake or muffin and have a big lump of flour explode in your mouth? Gross. I'd rather risk over-stirring.
Sadness is a fickle friend. It comes in a strange mixture of happiness and melancholy to remind you of things you don't want to forget. It also comes to overwhelm you and leaks drip by drip into your heart until it feels much too heavy and expands to fill your chest until you can hardly breathe. It brings tears which are sometimes welcome, but which also show up unexpectedly at Parent/Teacher Conferences.
I understand the idea behind parent/teacher conferences, but I always feel bad taking the teacher's time, as well as the time of the parents waiting behind me, just so I can hear how awesome my kids are. But I still go, because that's what good parents do, right? And maybe also because I like having other people tell me that my kids are awesome.
One of my favorite parent/teacher conferences was when one of Allen the Younger's high school teachers told me he was a great kid, but he had a flatulence problem and needed to take care of it before class because it was a... distraction. I got all serious when I talked to him about it, but I had a good chuckle about it later on. It was especially amusing because I think the teacher wanted to just say the word 'fart' but he thought it out and used 'flatulence' instead.
Recently there was an awesome rainstorm, followed by a huge, brilliantly bright, full-on double rainbow arching over the mountains near my home. It was so beautiful it was almost unreal.
Speaking of unreal, I had a dream the other day that I KNEW was not a dream. And when I woke up and realized that it WAS a dream, I wondered if my life was actually the dream and my dreams were my real life.
I looked up dreams and meanings of dreams on the internet but couldn't find anything to substantiate my theory.
I have a serious love/hate relationship with the internet. I love the way it feeds me information and helps me to feel connected to people, mainly people who do not wear diapers and are not wanting me to watch Curious George with them. (Again.) But I hate when something someone says or something I see or read makes me feel inadequate, stupid, left out, uneducated or not good enough. Or worse, when something makes me feel angry. Where's the balance? I'm not sure.
If I hear the word Stupidhead come out of my 4-year-old's mouth one more time... I don't know what I'll do. Because I am really bad at coming up with consequences for the things my kids do that make me crazy. But I still hate the word Stupidhead, especially when he's referring to me.
I love sending and receiving packages and hand-written notes in the mail. I almost want to start some kind of package-pal thingy where other people who love real mail and packages as much as I do can all send fun surprises to each other in some chain-letter sort of way. But I hate chain letters because they think they're the boss of me. And I think it's obvious I can't put into words what I really want to do here. So it probably isn't going to happen.