Pass The Wine, Please

My 13-year-old son has hair on his legs.

Not the cute, fuzzy little-boy stuff that you sort of expect will last forever because he's always going to be about the age of 4 or 5 in your mind, no matter how tall he gets (and he's getting dangerously close to eye-level with me).

It's man-hair.

Forget the wine, I need a shot of whiskey and a Toblerone.

A Honeymoon Photo Wherein I Reference Sex

Taken in June on the first day of our honeymoon sitting on our dock at the lake drinking Pink Bikini-tini and laughing our heads off.

You probably can't tell from this photo how sexually charged the atmosphere was, but I can.

I think it had something to do with his shiny new ring.

Meh.

There are so many things I could write about on here, but, as I do in my day-to-day life, I choose to edit those topics.

Why?

We have all encountered people in our lives (either on the peripheral or smack dab in the middle) who voice their own, usually very strong and very wordy, opinions on everything from politics and religion, on whose responsibility it really is for the glaring spelling mistake in the newsletter that's already been printed and mailed to a thousand people (and no, I'm not using a current example here) right on down to whether the size of the dust bunny under your bed is more or less a houseguest that never leaves.

Why do I edit on here? There are a lot of reasons. Mostly because I'm often too busy trying to make it through every day to even have time to sit and FORM AN OPINION (unless it involves anyone in my house wanting to wear a T-shirt outside when it's minus 10 degrees, in which case, my opinion is less an opinion and more of an order of the I-don't-freakin'-think so-kind.)

I edit because I think if I unleashed some of the pent-up anger and frustration I feel, while therapeutic in the moment, would only hurt me in the end. So, I pretty much keep my opinions to myself.

But I will share this with you - stupidity doesn't discriminate.

Birthday Girl

Danielle is 5 years old today and if the last week or two are an indication of how it's going to go in her teens, she may not make it to 6...

I also really wish you weren't so fascinated by everything "Hanna 'tana" related because Strawberry Shortcake still RULES.

"Smile a sunny morning!
Sunny all the way!
Something new is da-a-a-w-w-n-n-i-n-g,
Bet it's called TODAY!"

Happy Birthday, Stinky-Feet-Scooter-Butt.

I love you.

Ways To Charm Me

Inform me in your matter-of-fact voice that "the old Danielle is in the garbage because she doesn't do very good listening. And this is the new Danielle - she's a lot nicer."

I couldn't agree more.

Question For You

I'm pretty sure I've whined about this before, and here I go again....how and when am I going to make me a priority?

This is a constant struggle and I have great admiration for all women out there who somehow find the time to exercise, to do crafts, to spend time with your friends, to volunteer, to read a book - to do whatever it is that gives you pleasure and energy for the demands on the rest of your time.

My day generally starts at 5:00 a.m. with the alarm going off and if you know me AT ALL, you know that I'm not exactly a morning person unless I can be very quiet (at one time I would have suggested "quiet as a mouse" but having heard them in the walls and ceilings of our house I can inform you quite honestly that mice are about as quiet as a 4-year-old's birthday party. Therefore, being quiet as a mouse should actually mean that you are screaming loudly, fighting over a Barbie doll and on a sugar rush that has you speeding around like you've just swallowed your first hit of meth.)

I shower and get ready to leave for work by 6:15 (this routine always includes checking on the three kids and giving little hugs & kisses - hubby too - and double checking there are enough bottles made for the baby because lately she's been waking up a lot - growth spurt-check.)

My commute is approximately 40 minutes long, depending on the traffic and I start work at 7:00 a.m. I eat lunch around 11:30 and weather-depending go for a walk and try to read a bit of my book. Workday ends at 3:00 p.m, commute home is longer because of traffic, pick up the baby at daycare by 4:00, the kids are home from school at about 4:15, and then I'm swarmed for the next few hours. Time to talk to the kids for a few minutes, try to get baby settled so I can make dinner, hubby gets home around 4:30 and he helps with homework if needed, we break up an argument or two over what constitutes an appropriate snack considering dinner will be ready within the hour. The teenager is hugely helpful with the baby and setting the dinner table and then it's dinnertime, clean-up after dinner, playtime with the kids, bathtime, bedtime and before you know it, it's 7:30 and time to put in a load of laundry, make tomorrow's lunches, get everyone's clothes ready and finally GO PEE because I should have done that 2 hours ago, and then it's almost 8:00 and I'm exhausted and ready for bed myself.

Hubby helps out a lot too, but he's swamped with renovating our flooded basement (I still haven't told you about that, but I will) every spare minute he has and he's also on call 24/7 with our local fire department, as well as being a captain there and in charge of training (which they do every other week.)

And somewhere in this long day I am supposed to be exercising my soft ass into rock-hard shape, or do some stamping/scrapbooking crafts, or finish that damn blanket I started knitting some time ago.

Am I really this lousy at time management? HOW DO YOU DO IT? That's not a rhetorical question by the way. I would like to hear your answers.

Ways To Charm Me

Give me one of your best little-boy hugs because in your sleep-induced haze you've forgotten that you are now a teenager and are not supposed to "need" me anymore.

I love you, too.