The Holiday Card Photo

Since we returned home from our trip in one piece I decided to spend the weekend getting as much of a jump as possible on the multitude of holiday stuff that needs to be done.  We got the tree up, the house decorated, and the lights hung outside (though the don’t actually work because we’re one extension cord short, but whatever!)  I also wanted to go ahead and take the family photo that would appear on our Christmas card.

See, I like doing the photo cards.  They’re easy, can be bought in bulk, and do not force me to get carpal tunnel from signing all the cards.  Plus, if I send out my own family photo card it makes me feel slightly better about the fact that I’m horrible and judge every other photo card I see.

Yes, I’m that girl.

I should be ashamed, but really I’m too busy being all judgmental and caddy and laughing at the cards I receive in the mail.  Please don’t take me off your Christmas card list, though.  I swear I’m not laughing at yours.

*cough*

So, we attempted the family photo.

We got all weirdly matched in our black and white shirts.  I caked on the eyeliner figuring that alone would pull attention away from any other part of me for the photo.  We set up the tri-pod and even used a new handy-dandy accessory I was sent that’s supposed to help capture attention.

But, between the kids being unwilling to sit still and make a face that resembled anything close to normal and the fact that they couldn’t quit asking what that thing on the camera was, we were pretty unsuccessful in our venture.

I’d like to say the good mommy in me powered through, but when my son smacked my nose with his hard-ass head and caused me to swell and bruise, I just quit.

Screw you, holiday card family photo!  Where’s the ice pack!?

I think the kids would agree!

“Redshirting”

I recently had a conference with my son’s preschool teacher.  While she raved about his intelligence and his heart of gold, she mentioned that we may want to consider waiting an extra year to enroll him in Kindergarten.

Her reasoning was simple: while he’s extremely smart he tends to be a perfectionist and she’s concerned that he’ll move through his school work too slowly.  Plus, if we wait a year to enroll him he’ll be the oldest and more mature.  Bottom line: he’s a boy with a Summer birthday.

This is not the first time I have been given this advice.  Ever since he began preschool at the age of 3 we’ve been told that a late birthday should mean waiting a year to start kindergarten. Nothing seems to be of any relevance other than his birthday – at least that is the impression I am getting.

I have been struggling with this for a while.  I have been researching the advantages and disadvantages to the point where my head was spinning.  And, I think I have finally figured out why this whole ‘holding back’ thing bothers me:

It’s the newest trend for parents.

I am bothered by the fact that the entire idea of starting a child in school a year late is becoming the cool thing to do.  While I understand the maturity thing I am completely bothered by the fact that caring about one’s effort and being a perfectionist is a bad thing.

I have always followed my instincts with my children – especially with my son.  I know that ultimately his father and I will make the right decision, but I can’t help but want to scream when someone automatically assumes that a late birthday should translate to waiting an entire year.

I would love to hear what others have to say about this whole ‘redshirting’ debate.  Do you believe that waiting is best? Or, are you more old school in your thoughts?  Talk amongst yourselves.

Here’s to being regular!

Just after we arrived at my parent’s house in Ohio my son noticed a picture of me sitting on the dresser upstairs.  It was a photo I had taken just before I graduated college in 2001.
Before the wife thing.
Before the babies.
My son couldn’t quit staring at the picture.  He seemed very concerned.  Finally, he asked me about it.
Jake:  Mommy is that you in that picture?
Me: Yes, honey.  That was Mama many years ago.  
Jake: Daddy said that’s what you looked like when you met him.
Me: He’s right.
Jake: *with a very concerned face* Well, when did you become regular?
Me: *silent*
Jake: When did you start to look so regular, Mommy?
Me: *thinking out loud* More importantly, Jake.  When did Mama discover brow waxing!?

Happy Thanksgiving From Us Regular People!

What I Learned This Week (vol. 15)

It’s been quite a while since I’ve done this carnival and I’ve really missed it!  I have not done one of these since August.  And, holy crap, it’s November!  But, I’m sitting at my parents house in Ohio wondering if it’s going to snow and suddenly thought that it would be nice to share some of the things I’ve learned on our family adventure.

  • I’ve learned that my parents house is a death trap and I’ve seen entirely too many accidents and blood for one trip.  
  • It is entirely possible to get bit by a horse and still have a finger.  My little Charlotte is sporting the proof.  
  • All five of us are sleeping in one room and we might just be the noisiest damn sleepers ever!
  • I learned that my kids will actually eat meatloaf! Sadly it’s not the kind I make.  
  • The aesthetic beauty of a Christmas tree decorated by those under 4 feet is astounding!
  • I learned that Ohio is really freakin’ cold in November.  I used to know this fact, but living in the South beat it out of me.  
These are just some of the highlights of the first three days.  We’re going to be here until Friday and I have no doubt that I’m bound to learn more – especially about the numerous noisy animal keychains my mother gave the baby to ‘play with.’  Thanks for that, Mom.  Really.

fly away – or in our case drive away because flying is expensive when you keep birthing babies

In just a few short hours I can officially consider myself on vacation.

On vacation from school.
On vacation from writing papers.
On vacation from formulating anything close to a coherent and intelligent thought.
I think I have needed this break much more than I even realized. I think my family has needed this break as well. We are all burnt out, overworked, stressed, and suffering from ‘Don’t Piss Me Off or I’ll Snap You Like a Twig’ syndrome.
It ain’t pretty.
So, in a few short hours when I’m officially on vacation I’ll finish packing up my family and we’ll be set to begin our Thanksgiving adventure. If we all survive the 12 hour drive without some horrible murder-murder-murder-murder-suicide incident I have big plans for the upcoming week.
  • I want sit quietly on the couch with a mug of hot tea and read. I want to lose myself in the music, the moment since you own it you better never let it go. Just a little Eminem from this white girl for ya.
  • I want to eat my Grandpa’s reuben sandwiches and enjoy his stories and conversation in the house I remember from my childhood.
  • I want to sleep. Dear God I want to sleep!!!
  • I want to sneak away with my husband and see the new Twilight movie so he can mock me mercilessly after.
  • I want to watch my mother make cookies with her grandchildren.
  • I want to watch my children take over my parents and completely wear their asses out!
  • I plan to eat and laugh and take pictures of my childhood surroundings.
I need this trip. We all need this trip.
And, I’m ready to get on with it…just as soon as I finish packing.

As if us mom bloggers weren’t creepy enough…

Last year in a moment of unbelievable weakness I jumped on the Twilight train. I read the books cover to cover. Then I forced my husband to read the books cover to cover just so I could talk to someone about the corny brilliance of it all.
Plus, I needed a date to go see the movie.
Hubby hasn’t let me pick a movie since.
THIS FRIDAY!!!
And I’m the 31 year old dorky mother that is all excited to go see it and look at all the dreamy boys that make me the creepy lady thinking illegal thoughts and googling yummy pictures.
Like this…

And, this…
Pecks!
Oh, Hell! They’re using water!
Come to Mama!
Dear Taylor,
The world would be a more peaceful place if you just never put your shirt back on.
Love,
Neena
Dear Male Readers,
I’m sorry.
Love,
Neena

The List Goes On…Kind of like The Beat Goes On, but not nearly as jiggy

It’s 6:30 on Monday morning and my mind is racing a million miles an hour.

Today begins my Hell Week.
As in “Back the F*#k off, yo! I’m busy!”

I’ve got so much crammed on my calendar that I may actually have to schedule time for showers and sex. Isn’t that a romantic idea: Hey Honey, I’ve got a 12 minutes on Tuesday free if you want me to pencil you in to get some.
I’m guessing the sweetness factor on that isn’t nearly what it is in my head.
Anyway.
This week is full of a thousand things that need to be attended, finished, turned in, picked up, and organized. My son’s preschool has their Thanksgiving Feast today and I must bring a side dish. I bought a 6 pound can of corn. Does that count?
I’ve got class on Wednesday and Thursday with term papers, presentations, readings, and theory papers all due across the 48 hour span. So, I guess finishing all that stuff up should be on the list.
My daughter has two Thanksgiving Feasts this week. TWO! I have to send cornbread muffins in for one and I think I’m supposed to attend the other. That means I must find, bribe, and schedule babysitters.
There’s the basic housework, cooking, and general keeping the lives of my family running like a well-oiled machine.
And, I need to pack.
Oh, Lord, do I need to pack!
In the midst everything else I must prepare and pack the family to leave on Saturday for our Thanksgiving trip to Ohio.
aka: 12 hours in a car with three children, a husband that recently quit smoking, and no legal way to drink.
Good times.

The Indignity of it All – Subtitled: Mommy’s Cleavage is not a toy and You suck for grabbing the camera!



I always thought I’d at least make a little money if my boobs lit up. Guess not…

rainy november days

Oh, I love rainy days.

I really do.
I get all excited like a kid on Christmas just thinking about the many, many things I could be doing to celebrate such a day.
It’s a sickness really.
But, I still find myself thinking about the thousands of ways I prefer to spend my time on rainy days.
Should I work on my 10-15 pages theoretical framework for my qualitative research class – especially since I kicked that term paper’s ass yesterday? I could get all academic like and kick it’s qualitative ass, too.
Or, I could cuddle up and watch a Buffy marathon in honor of the fact that she named her baby Charlotte – which just happens to be one of my favorite names EVER. Plus, my kids are all freaked out about monsters and vampires and stuff and what better solution to their fears than to introduce them to Spike.
I could hunker down in the recliner and get back to work on the romance novel I’m writing. And, you can shut-up with all your judgement and stuff. I like romance novels – they’re my thing. I even get my picture taken with them when I see shelves and shelves full at the used bookstore.
Should I just spend the day reading one of the numerous books cluttering my nightstand. I’m sure I can find one that is customized to my current mood.
I could get in the kitchen and be all Suzy homemaker and cook up a pot roast or chicken soup and an apple pie. I could don an apron and fill my house with wondrous smells not related to last week’s debacle. But, I don’t have the stuff for pot roast or apple pie in my cupboards and the grocery store just isn’t my idea of a fun way to spend a rainy day.
However, mall shopping is! I could put on some cute little outfit and feel all stylish and comfortable and Charlotte and I could spend our morning window shopping and pretending we live in NYC and lead some sort of old-fashioned fancy life.
I could just spend the day playing with Charlotte, tickling her, and allowing her to point at my nose 47 times all while trying to convince her to not grow anymore so I can continue to kiss those baby feet for quite a while longer.
Or, I could go all voyeuristic and watch my neighbors attempt to install new gutters in the rain for the 3rd week in a row. That could be fun.
But, whatever I choose I gotta go! I’m wasting valuable rainy day time here. I’ll see ya back with the damn sunshine.

How Common Sense is Born

The following conversation occurred at dinner tonight – only after we had discussed jail and the life of a prisoner.

Hubby: So, if someone offers you anything and you don’t know what it is, what do you do?
Mia: I say ‘Drugs are not for me!’
Hubby: That’s right!
Jacob (refusing to be left out): And, if a stranger offers me candy I say ‘NO’ and run away!
Me: Yes, Jacob. You run away.
Jacob: And, if I see a stranger with candy and a gun I say ‘NO’ and run away fast!
Hubby: Yes, Jacob. If you see a deranged person with a gun offering you candy you run away.
Me: Fast!