New adventures

It's been awhile. I didn't even realize how long until my mother told me I needed to post on my blog.

The past few months have been a bit crazy. JL got laid off the beginning of July and we spent some time adjusting to having him home. Last week we started a new semester. JL has 13 credits and two institute classes. He also got a job working for Vending services at UVU. A true blessing since we lost our unemployment as soon as classes started. Now Walter and I are readjusting to having him gone all the time again.

I started work yesterday. My first job in a a year and a half! I think it would have felt more like a job if I had actually had to leave the house and Walter behind. Instead, we get to stay at home and spend time with an adorable little boy named Tommy. The boys are the same size and at the same stage in development.

We'll just have to see how this all goes.

spoons

Today I looked at my house and realized that Walter had about three cubic feet of space to move around. Because my floor was filthy. I got to work.

This burst of energy led me to my dishwasher. My dishwasher full of bowls and spoons. Soup spoons to be exact.

I know it is summer. The heat of the day sneaking in through my windows reminds me all day long. But I love soup. It warms my heart and soul. When nothing is going right, I eat some soup.

The husband thinks I am crazy.

I am going to go eat a bowl of soup. Because I can.

what's life but a series of what ifs?

We purchased a steal of a table yesterday that I am already in love with. As a result, our black table is up for grabs on the standard sites. A woman called me today and asked me for my table. And my chairs. My chairs which were not for sale.

I thought,

"What if I sell the chairs. I could get the chairs I want sooner."
"What if JL gets mad at me because we don't have the money."
"What if this lady just wants to sell MY chairs for more than she got them."
"What if I sold the chairs for more than I got them." ($15 to be exact)
"What if I stopped thinking about this and told her to find her own chairs."

in very rapid succession.

I didn't give her my chairs. They are mine.


And yet, sometimes I want this whole place to burn down while we're out running errands so that I can de-clutter my life and not have my preteen journals anymore.

just me, my books, and my double gulp of sprite

I'm a reader. This facet of my personality has been in place since I was a wee one sitting on my mother's bed reading Horton Hatches the Egg by the all knowing Dr. Seuss. I love books. Nothing can go wrong if I have a good book in my bag. A book for a present will never be turned down.

I especially love used books. And libraries. They smell like the homes of grandparents the world over.

In my life I have read A LOT of books. I spent the last three years of my pre-married life as a nanny. Then I got smart and got a kid of my own. Do you know how quickly kids get tired of having the same story read to them? (Unless it is a favorite) Here's a hint: Walter and I go through about 15 books per week.

I am not a genre snob. I will read anything: non-fiction, general fiction, science fiction, young adult fiction, children's books, mysteries...wait. I take that back. I avoid romance novels.

I have no shame in fighting children for books at the library. In fact, right now I have three books on hold that are children's literature. No shame.

I do not fault an author for writing a book that I just don't like. And if he writes another book, I'll give it a go. I do fault an author for two books that should never have been published. And sometimes, I fault their editors and the people who read them. (You know who you are, Eragon series editor.)

I have favorites that I will always go back to and I live to laugh at David Sedaris' work. Good gracious man alive I live to read his work. I also live to read the Arts section of The New York Times.

So when I ate three bites of bad chicken last night and spent the rest of the evening feeling the effects, I happily finished The Soloist by Mark Salzman and picked up the second book in Rick Riordan's series Percy Jackson & The Olympians.*

*This is in no way an endorsement for rotten chicken and in every way an endorsement for The Soloist by Mark Salzman. One I wish I was getting paid for so I could go buy non-rotten chicken.

it's naptime

Walter is asleep. Usually during these brief intervals of quiet I fold clothes, prep dinner, do dishes, put away dishes...you get the picture. Today I didn't. I let myself be moved by something wonderful.

(500) Days of Summer

It's a beautiful movie about love, and not in a fairytale romance way. But the harsh reality of love and its imperfections and disappointments and joys. The balance of love. The inevitability of developing emotions for people in your life. How marvelous all of their imperfections can be when they are looked at with the forgiving eye of a lover and best friend.

The entire thing made me grateful for my personal experience battling the monster that is love and in the end coming out on top without even knowing how that happened. It made me remember how much I love my husband for putting up with my ridiculous quirks and always knowing what my favorite color of the moment is and never judging me when it changes drastically from golden yellow to girly girl pink. And even though there are dozens of things about him that I will probably never understand, I am happy to say that he's the guy turning my life upside down at random moments of the day.

And, long story short, isn't that what everybody's looking for?

have i told you lately...

that I adore my son? This is a reminder, mostly for myself, of why I became a SAHM and opted out on all those other life adventures I had planned. At least for now. Because Walter has hit his clingy phase and he hit it hard. Home run, kid.

Reasons why being Walter's mom is AWE....wait for it....SOME:

He thinks sneezing is hilarious.

From birth he has had a little alfalfa sprout on his head. Guh. So cute.

Blue eyes.

He laughs like a psychopath.

He'll blow bubbles until his onesie is soaked through with bubble blowing spit. In otherwords, he is a stud.

His goal in life is to eat my cell phone. And his father's cell phone.

He's a whole lotta something packed into a small little body. (Really, he's only thirteen pounds and five months old. Way to own that 6 percentile in weight for age.)

He can squeal with the best of those pigs.

He can only go backwards in his walker. This means that his quests to head out the open front door usually result in him getting stuck against the couch.

He always lets me know when his dad has given him illicit food, like that time he drooled orange spree all over his white onesie.

He yells at us when he bites his fingers too hard on his little tooth.

He will only eat his oatmeal if there is applesauce mixed in. If you're wondering, it's a pretty disgusting combination.

I've always wanted a constant audience when I pee, shower, and gussy myself up.

He has the longest eyelashes in the world. Watch me give birth to a daughter with alopecia.

In reference to the above, some guy called him a girl in Wal-Mart the other day. Even though he was in all blue and manly pants.

He gives the best kisses. And sometimes he slips ya the tongue.

Who needs room darkening curtains? Not my child. To fall asleep, he just pulls his blanket over his head.

I gave birth to him, he's adorable, etc. etc. etc.

Mkay, I need to go. He just tried to bite his toe off. But seriously, motherhood is the best job in the world. Thank you for letting me remind myself. So all of you random women out there who are wondering whether or not to let your husbands impregnate you (if you're not married....out of the question, don't even think about it) do it. Greatest adventure of my life. And the best part: it just started.

tuesday must be an synonym for green beans

Walter hates green beans. This evening, he had green beans for dinner. Like always, he said "yuck". He spit them out. He wiped them on his hand so I couldn't spoon them back up.

But today he rubbed green beans onto his eyelid and spent the next ten minutes attempting to rub it away only to pile more green beans onto the already dried up mess. I laughed. He laughed.

Happy Tuesday world. If you haven't planned dinner for tomorrow, think about green beans. Because I'm not cleaning up the mess again (third time really is the charm) and somebody's got to eat them.