Oh, Now I Get It. April 19, 2012

Filed under: Motherhood,Parenthood — KTSP @ 3:44 pm
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I have had a gripe in life.  Just one.  It has always been a big deal for me too.  It’s not earth shattering or truly important, but it’s there.  What is it?  Oh, just the fact that I don’t have a baby book.  There.  I said it.  Isn’t that sad?  No baby book!  No book containing my weight and length at birth, no pages telling about how I developed and said funny things.  No book containing my soft, fuzzy baby hair from my first haircut. No photos.  Nothing.

I always gave my beautiful mama such a hard time about this fact.  Why didn’t she write in my non-existent baby book anyway?  I always heard her answer of “I never had time!” but never really understood it.  Until now.

I’m the youngest of three kids in my family.  My sister and I are only 15 months apart.  15 months!  Now that I have two kids and the youngest being 15 months, I finally truly understand why I don’t have my own baby book.  My poor mama!   How in the world did she do it with THREE kids, two being so close in age?  She must have never gotten a shower much less created elaborate books for each of her babies.

I always proudly said that I’d make the most beautiful baby books for my kids.  I even created books for my two oldest nephew and niece.  But, that was before I was married and had my own little wee ones with all the non-stop action and adventure.  When life does happen to slow down, I usually crash on the couch and try to recover before it starts again.

Guess what?  My oldest STILL doesn’t have a baby book.  Oh, I have plenty of pictures and I’ve been keeping a journal of his stories and I have every intention of creating a book for him one day, but the way my days go, I don’t think I’ll have it done until he turns 21.  My youngest also has plenty of photos, but her journal is, um, very short.  Poor baby.  I’m sure that one day she will give me grief about her non-existent baby book too.   She might have to wait until she is 30,  maybe even 35 before he book is done.

So Mom, sorry about all the grief I gave you about my book.  I take it all back.  I really appreciate all the delicious meals you made us, how you made us clothes (I can’t even imagine), and how you somehow kept smiling at us even though we must have driven you to the point of utter exhaustion.

And Dad, thanks for taking pictures of me even though I never smiled.

This picture is of me at one year of age, totally exhausted on the chair.  Just add 35 years to this girl and that’s what still happens to me when I sit down thanks to constant sleep deprivation.

and so it begins!

www.andsoitbegins.org

 

The Lesson of the Cherry Blossom March 29, 2012

Filed under: Random — KTSP @ 2:08 pm
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Yo no naka wa

Mikka Minu ma ni

Sakura kama

In case you don’t speak Japanese, the translation is: “Life is short, like the three-day glory of the cherry blossom.”

We do our best each year to predict the peak of the cherry blossoms in Washington, D.C.  Tourists from around the world try to hit it just right and arrive at the perfect time.  Horticulturists closely monitor the five stages of bud development in order to give us some idea of when to plan our travels, but really only the tree itself and its creator know just exactly when those beautiful pink and white flowers will burst forth.    If you get to see them, you are very lucky indeed.

For me and my husband, it was much more than just luck.  We had been planning a little weekend away and picked the weekend of March 23-25 since it was one of the only weekends that would fit the busy schedule.  We also chose Washington, D.C. as our destination since it’s an easy three hour drive from our door to the door of the hotel.  We realized as time grew closer that maybe, just maybe we would get to see the world-famous blossoms.  Seeing them at their peak was always on my “To Do Before I Die List” but since it’s impossible to plan it just right, I always doubted that I’d ever get to see them.

Way back in 1910, Dr. Jokichi Takamine, a Japanese dignitary donated 2,000 trees in the name of Tokyo as living symbols of friendship between our two nations.  But, there was a major problem.  While it was a wonderful gift, we could not accept it.  They were full of diseases and the USDA ordered a big bond fire using the sickly trees as firewood.  “Hello?  Dr. Takamine?  Uh, yes, well it’s the thought that counts.”  So, Dr. Takamine, being a generous guy, ordered up another gift of 3,020 trees.  The healthy trees arrived in 1912 and First Lady Taft and Viscountess Chinda, the wife of the Japanese Ambassador, planted the first of those cherry trees along the Tidal Basin.  In subsequent years we made the yearly blooms into a National festival.

Not only do these blooms wow us with their delicate beauty, they remind us of how beautiful, delicate, and passing our lives are.  This fundamental concept transcends international borders and is a common truth for each person no matter where they call home.

As my husband and I stood under the cherry blossoms drinking in their beauty, I thought about the verse in James 1:17 that says, “Every good and perfect gift is from above…”  YES!  Being here in Washington, DC on a beautifully sunny day which happens to be the last predicted day of the cherry blossom peak and the 100 year anniversary of the first planting of these trees is so much more than just luck.  It truly is a gift to us by our heavenly father.  We couldn’t have planned this better even if we were trying to.   And what a wonderful gift is was –  the next day was rainy and windy causing those beautiful blossoms to fall, further emphasizing to us his generosity to us.

Yes, life is short – live each moment and drink it in – for each of us can only guess when we are at the peak of life.  Recognize and appreciate even the smallest of gifts and remember that your heavenly father delights in you and wants to shower you with blessings too.

Enjoy the photos!     And so it begins!!  www.andsoitbegins.org

  

 

Dahling, You Look Fabulous. March 22, 2012

Filed under: Random — KTSP @ 2:52 pm
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I’m enjoying a two-week free trial at my local rec center.  I already know I want to join, but if they want to give me two weeks free, I’ll take it!  The thing about going to the gym is that you have the honor (and sometimes horror) of looking at other people to see what kind of torture they take on in order to become fit.  I happen to like the treadmill.  Yes, I know, I should be calling it the “dreadmill,” but to me, it’s blissful.  I get on, plug in my i-pod, and away I go. . . all alone.  Nobody to care for by myself.  I control the hills, I control the speed, I control the fan that blows the gentle sweaty breeze against my face.  I actually started running again after not feeling so great the last 6 or so months.  When I run, I look like I’m about to die.  My face turns beet red, my sides ache and I have to put my hands over my head,  and I start breathing loudly.  It’s a good thing other gym goers have their ear buds in or else they might just get annoyed at me.  Anyway, I don’t sweat much, instead I just get more and more red.  The gym staff looks my direction with concern, but I give them my extra white smile (since my face is extra red, my teeth look really quite white) and hope they don’t come over my way with the defibrillator.

Anyway, you also happen to notice how fit or not people are.  If you weren’t careful, you could maybe start to compare yourself with your fellow sweaters or beet red-ers.   I felt just a wee bit silly pumping my 3 pound iron standing next to the twenty-something guy on my left pumping 45 pounds.  Yes, I looked.  It was 45 pounds.  I don’t think I could lift 45 pounds even with the help of a dolly.  My arms are about the size of a noodle.  Just enough muscle to hold a baby and sometimes, although rarely, a three year old.   I did 10 reps on each arm and then practically had to carry it with both hands to the weight holder.  Look out people!  This girl has some serious strength!  You don’t want to meet me in a dark alley.

Back to body types and perceptions.  It’s super easy to start comparing yourself to someone else and thinking those negative thoughts about how you look.  Too tall, too skinny, too fat, arms are too flabby, huge waist, thick thighs, no ankles.  The list can go on and on if we let it.  I think we ought to take the word “too” out of our vocabulary.  I am too tall, I am too skinny (yes, it is possible), I am too beet red.  Just except the way we are.  It is what it is, right?

I went to gather my belongings in the dressing room where I saw a young gal strapping huge Velcro things on her thighs. She was exasperated because they weren’t going on right.  I asked her if she had an injury or something and she said, “Oh no!  These are supposed to make you sweat in all the places you want to lose weight.  I’m going on a trip soon and I’m in a hurry to lose some weight.”  I took a second look at this girl.  She was beautiful.  Yes, she may have had some extra weight, but that was certainly NOT the first thing I noticed about her.

So, I got brave.  I told her what I thought.

“You are beautiful just the way you are.”  I said.  ”You look lovely and you don’t need to lose weight for your trip!  Just go and enjoy yourself, honey, and don’t give a second thought to those pounds you think you need to lose.”

Yes, I did.  I told her that.  Her jaw dropped and she looked like she was about to cry.  ”Oh my word!” she said, “Thank you so much!  Nobody has ever told me that!  You just made my day!”  We exchanged a few more words about just excepting the skin you are in, how being perfect was over-rated, and then we said goodbye.   I wonder if she threw those horrible Velcro sweat things in the trash.   I sure hope she did.

So, here’s to excepting and even enjoying how we look, getting in shape, and next week trying the 5 pound weights!

And so it begins!!

www.andsoitbegins.org

 

The Mommy Badge March 9, 2012

Filed under: Motherhood,Parenthood — KTSP @ 8:09 pm
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Everyone these days has a badge.  A badge around the neck to identify an employee and his right to enter certain areas, a silver badge to identify a public service officer, a parking badge to allow one to enter a secured parking area . . . badges everywhere.  The mommy badge is easily spotted as well.  It usually shows up on the loveliest of clothing, the freshly cleaned and pressed pair of pants, and on the shoulder of almost every shirt of every mother everywhere.  What does it look like?  It’s usually in the shape of a little hand with jelly on it, white baby puke, a wet spot on the shoulder from snuggling a crying baby, blood from the spill he took in the driveway, finger paint that never made it to the page, and the most common mommy badge is the dried snot (not her own) which is found in the most unusual places on the mommy.  Mostly the tired, worn out, and hurried mommy doesn’t even notice she is wearing her mommy badge until she shows up at an event and finally has a second to stop and admire herself in the bathroom mirror.  ”No!  No!  No!” she cries as she tries to get the puke out with a wet paper towel without making matters worse.  Some moms just recognize that wearing her mommy badge is a fact of life for at least the first 10 or so years of parenthood, so she just leaves it alone and wears it proudly.  ”Yes, those are dried boogers on my shoulder.  So?!”  It’s a sign that we love to love on our kids even when their little noses are a non-stop faucet of lovelies.

There is a mommy badge that nobody can see, but most mothers are more than happy to talk about.  It’s the ‘I’ve been-through-labor-and-my-story-is-worse-than-yours” badge.  Why is it that when a pregnant lady walks through the door, we moms feel the unstoppable and compelling urge to tell that poor woman how horrible our labors were, how long they lasted, and how long it took to get that blessed epidural.  Maybe, just maybe she doesn’t want to know all the gory details of the tortures of Pitocin or how many sutures it took to repair the, um, you know.  Anyway, why is it that we swing our invisible mommy badges around and try to outdo each other with our birthing tales?   When I was pregnant with our first child, even perfect strangers would come up to me and tell me how horrible labor was.  I remember feeling nervous enough as it was without the help of well-meaning people “blessing” me with their stories.  Come on ladies, admit it.  Am I right about this?  Why do we love to share those particular stories so much?  Maybe we earned the right to be proud of our accomplishments of bringing children into this world.  But, may I suggest that perhaps it’s a badge that should stay hidden unless the pregnant mommy-to-be asks for the gory details of how we earned it?  Instead, let’s tell her about how fun it is to be totally sleep deprived and so tired that we can’t even remember how to spell our own child’s name.

For the record, my first labor lasted 40 hours and my second lasted 21.5 hours.  If you want to know more details, I’m sure I will be happy to share.

This was me 40 hours before I earned my Mommy Badge.  Did I mention it took FORTY hours?!

And so it begins!

www.andsoitbegins.org

 

The Grief Monster February 29, 2012

Filed under: Motherhood,Random — KTSP @ 7:39 pm
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Grief is an interesting character.  Twenty years ago, I met Grief for the very first time.  Twenty years is a long time, but it’s even longer when it measures the amount of time a girl has been without her mom.  I was at the tender age of 16 when cancer took my mom and in her place was the monster named Grief.

Grief is an interesting and confusing character.  He likes to sneak up on you at the most unexpected times.  And, when you think he’s going to be around for sure – he’s not.  One time, when I was walking the aisles of a popular wholesale warehouse, he hit me.  Grief slugged me right between the eyes when a dear sweet memory of my mom came to mind.  It was triggered, I suppose, by the fact that I used to walk those aisles with my mom – a time with her I always treasured.  Anyway, Grief smacked me so hard I started crying like a baby and had to stand there and sob for a few minutes and then blow my nose and try to finish my shopping with red eyes and a swollen face.   Funny how nobody needed anything in that aisle right then.  Maybe they saw Grief and were afraid of him.  That’s a curious thing about Grief:  He makes even the most well versed and talkative people silent.  They just don’t know what to say around him.

I’ve been told that Grief is good.  (Good Grief –  Ha!)  Grief is good?  How can that be?  Grief made me feel totally and completely abnormal and certainly not at all like myself.  My extroverted self actually enjoyed my mom’s funeral with all the hundreds of people who attended, all the extra love and attention, the many delicious meals and flowers they brought.  (Although, I still can’t stand the smell of certain flowers, all thanks to Grief who makes me associate them with death.)  And then when everyone went back home and back to their normal lives, Grief came with a presence so thick that my dad, brother, sister and I could hardly breathe.  But, life had to return to some kind of normal, so off to school we went with Grief and did our best to keep a stiff upper lip so none of our friends could tell we were so not okay being there again grasping around for our new normal.  Sixteen.  That’s young to have to walk around with Grief.  He is a confusing creature.  I began to believe that physical pain was a piece of cake and easier to take than all that emotional trauma Grief dished out.

People everywhere try to live with Grief and get along with him in different ways.  Some try to ignore him.  That doesn’t work!  Well, maybe it works for a while, but eventually he becomes even bigger and more nasty and begins to seep through that person’s very pores.

Some people try to tackle Grief head on.  ”Bring it on!”  They say, “I’ll deal with you now once and for all, you little punk!” and they wrestle and wrestle him and fool themselves into thinking they are done with him and Grief lets them win, for a while, and then he puts on the after-burners and beats that person up in a thousand more ways they never expected.

Some people recognize that Grief is overwhelming and they just decide to let him take over because they know they could never win.  They eat with him, drink with him, and try to sleep with him,work with him, and even try to be friends with him.  They give him permission to ride on their shoulders so when others look at them, they usually see someone depressed and slumped over with the weight of that nasty creature.

Other people let Grief sit between them.  He feeds off their silence and bitterness and becomes very, very large.  Eventually those people can’t see around him to remember why they loved that person in the first place.  Grief is a nasty creature.  He is heartless.

Grief likes to hang around during good times too.  The day I got engaged to my husband was one of the happiest days of my life, and yet Grief was there.  Then my wedding day.  I tried to ignore him, but he was there then too.  Jerk.  To say nothing of the day my two kids were born.  That was the worst time for him to show up and yet there he was.  The list goes on and on of the happy times of life when he pokes his head in the door, laughs his evil laugh, and says, “Hello!  I’m still here!”

Grief, you suck!  (to put it kindly)  I’d much rather have my mom around but instead, I’m stuck with you.  I will never be your friend but I will and have learned to live with you.  I choose to recognize you and by doing so, I take away some of your evil powers.  Sure, you might be around when I think about my mom.  You might beat me up when I realize that my list of things she missed is now longer than my list of things I remember about her.  Go ahead – make me cry when I look at her photograph.  I don’t care!  Why?  Because while you will be around until the day I die, when I do eventually die, so will you.  My spirit, however, will live on in heaven and I will get to see my mom again.  I will spend an eternity (literally) dancing with her in the ever joyful presence of Jesus Christ and connecting with her on a deeper level than I could ever have here on earth.  And, sorry to break it to you Grief, but you aren’t welcome in heaven.  Deal with that, you evil monster!  Twenty years is nothing in light of eternity.  So, go ahead and make me cry now.  Tears are refreshing and healing anyway.

And so it begins.

www.andsoitbegins.org

(Below is a picture of my mom holding me at 2 months old.  Below that is a picture of us a year or two before she died.)

 

The Thing that Caught My Eye February 26, 2012

Filed under: Random — KTSP @ 3:18 pm
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Last Friday, I had the chance to escape reality for the day.  I had a grand time shopping, sitting in coffee shops, more shopping, and going to places that you just shouldn’t go to with young kids.  One of those places was an antique shop.  I love looking through antique shops.  It’s a recent new-found love since in my past years I would have hated it.  What changed?  Who knows.  It just did.  I came across something that caught my eye so much so that I took a picture of it with my camera phone and sent it to my peeps saying, “This is the coolest thing ever.”   I didn’t buy it right then and I had a feeling it wouldn’t be there for long, so I said goodbye to the thing and left.

Fast forward a week’s time and my husband Darin and I were on an all day date trying to figure out what we wanted to do next.  I thought of the thing again and wanted to go back to show him.  Well, it wasn’t there and I immediately started the kicking-myself-for-not-buying-it-the-first-time process.  Darn.  We kept looking around anyway and guess what?  I found the thing upstairs!  YES!  I practically hugged it as I showed it off to my husband who also thought the thing was pretty cool.  The price tag revealed that it was still pricey and one of the few things not on sale, and there most likely wouldn’t be money for it in the dreaded budget.  I decided to say goodbye once again to the lovely thing and go our separate ways, but my darling husband mentioned that maybe I could have it as an early Mother’s Day present. (With some extra money from my personal stash thrown in.)

Proudly, I’m the new owner of this beautiful thing.

So what is this thing?  It’s a ultra-cool mid-century lamp/phone/clock.  But wait!  There’s more!  When we got it home, we were playing around with how to set the clock and kept pushing the button on the handset but it was getting hotter and hotter and hotter.  Oops.  We thought we had just purchased a fire hazard electrical nightmare, but further research on this beauty showed that the handset is actually a, wait for it, cigarette lighter too!  So not only did we buy a mint condition mid-century lamp/phone/clock, but it was a nice little cigarette lighter too, all rolled up into one extremely cool thing.  Love.

Imagine the 1940-1950′s housewife in her little black rayon blend mid length cocktail dress with rounded neckline, short cap sleeves, a nice string of pearls, and high heals dusting this little beauty.  Of course, back then we had no idea that smoking cigarettes would kill us, but hey, why not just throw in a cigarette lighter onto the lamp?  Makes sense, right?  It does make me wonder though how many little kids picked up the “telephone” to ring Grandma and ended up in the emergency room with burned lips.  Maybe that’s why I can’t find any information on the manufacturing company who made this beauty.  They probably got sued and had to shut down without leaving a trace.

It’s for this reason that my newest little treasure is sitting way up high on the shelf where my two little miracles can’t get their hands (or lips) on it.

It’s the little things in life, isn’t it?  Things that make us smile can be rare these days.  Rare things that make us smile are even sweeter.

And so it begins!

www.andsoitbegins.org

 

 

Why is that? February 21, 2012

Filed under: Random — KTSP @ 1:59 pm
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Lately, things I hear or see make me step back and ask, “why is that?”  Maybe I’m getting old.   I realize I am getting older, and to avoid turning into a cantankerous old lady, I’m trying hard not to let things bug me or become a pet peeve.  However, I do have a list of things I have been asking “why is that?” lately.  Please, take no offense if you read these and realize that you are guilty, or to put it kindly, have fallen into bad habits.

Number one.  Since I’ve moved to the east coast, I find that people use the words “let” and “leave” in some odd ways.  For example, my dearest friend and husband of almost five years said, “Let’s close the door.  We don’t want to leave the cold in.”  Right away my mind asked the question, “why is that?” because if the cold is outside, then how would we leave it in?  Shouldn’t we say, “Let’s close the door.  We don’t want to let the cold in.”?  Another example:  people here would typically say “Let him alone.”  I think that would be okay if we added a “be” to the mix to read “Let him be alone.”   Otherwise, we’d have to say “leave him alone” for it to be a grammatically correct statement.  True?  Oh well, maybe I should just live and let live.  Or better yet, live and leave live.

Number two.  At church when someone says they are going to “lift the offering” everyone nods and appreciates the men and women who stand to collect our tithes and offerings.  (More on offerings in the next paragraph)  Inside I want to shout “Stop that man!  He’s stealing God’s money!!”  But, I refrain (usually) and just sit there and nod too.  (Although, I have been known to stand on a pew and quack like a duck.  But that’s a whole different story.)

Number three.  Why do we say that we are taking up a free-will offering.  Aren’t all offerings free will?  Isn’t that the very meaning of the word offering?  And speaking of redundant, I snicker when I hear someone say they want to use the ATM machine.  In my head I mock and say “I need to use the automatic teller machine machine.”   Sometimes, although rarely, the snicker inside my head translates to a full-out and audible giggle.

Number four.  And this one really bugs me.  Why is it that The Man with the Yellow Hat never learns that he shouldn’t ever leave (let?) his monkey alone.  Ever.  Is he stupid or something?

Ok, that’s it.  I promise.  I’m done.  Now I can go on with my day and hopefully I didn’t just earn the name “Old Lady Katie.”  Oh, and my faithful husband is glad he’s not that only one who gets an ear full now and then.

And so it begins!

www.andsoitbegins.org

 

The Vacuum Cleaner Personality Test February 16, 2012

Filed under: My kids — KTSP @ 3:46 pm
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Did you know that you can test your child’s personality by simply running your vacuum?  It’s true.  I found this out just today when I pulled the ol’ vacuum out of the closet and gave it a whirl.  This is something that doesn’t happen often in my house, so when it does, it’s quite entertaining.

My oldest, Josiah, who is now three, started screaming and running for cover even before I had it plugged in.  He hates loud noises.  He hates automatic car washes.  He is very timid about anything new.  But, he loves to sit in my lap and read books and he could do that all day.  He loves to learn and has an amazing ability to memorize.  In fact, I already started teaching him how to read and he’s catching on fast.  S-M-A-R-T.   He can do that because he can sit still.   As a one year old, he would sit with his back as straight as a board while watching a Baby Einstein DVD until it was done.  He never moved.  Anyway, he hates the vacuum and removes himself far from the chaos of the noise and hides and cries until he hears me turn it off.  Then I hear him say in a sweet, timid voice, “Are you done yet, Mom?”

My youngest, Cyrah Jazzlyn, who is now one, loves the vacuum.  She laughs at it and chases it around while I’m trying to use it.  I have to hold her up and out-of-the-way so that I don’t accidentally vacuum her up.  But, she’s been an adventurer from day one.  She didn’t want to wait around for the doctor to deliver her, in fact, she almost didn’t wait for her daddy to get back in the room after grabbing dinner from the cafe just down the hall.  When she decides to do something, she just does it.  She climbed on chairs before she could walk. which she did at 11 months.  Now, just a month later, she almost runs to get where she wants to go.  She has more bruises on her head than any kid I’ve ever seen all thanks to her no fear attitude.  I often hear loud crashes and when I run into the room expecting to find blood and Cyrah screaming, I usually see her laying on the floor looking at the ceiling with a frustrated look on her face.   Does she ever sit still?  Nope.  Really, she doesn’t.  She’s a girl on the move.  This is why I like to call her “Jazzy the Adventure Girl.”  I’m just hoping and praying we can keep her out of the E.R.

So, how can it be that two little kids who came from the same parents, live in the same environment, and eat basically the same foods can be so completely and totally different?  I don’t really know, but what I do know is that I love it!  I love the variety.  I can’t wait to see what my kids become.  In the meanwhile, I’m doing my best to love and treasure them just as they are and letting them be exactly who they are created to be.

I wonder what my rarely used vacuum says about me.

And so it begins!

www.andsoitbegins.org

 

What’s the word I’m looking for? February 12, 2012

Filed under: Motherhood — KTSP @ 3:44 pm
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It happens to the best of us.  We are trying to string a sentence together when we hit an un-explainable speed bump, a brick wall, a . . . now what’s the word I’m looking for?  Oh yes!  It’s that dreaded Mommy Brain Drain!  I don’t know if there is any scientific proof that Mommy Brain actually exists, but if you are a mom, I’m guessing you have experienced it.  You are talking along just fine when all the sudden you can’t even remember a simple word, like toast, for example.   (Even now I’m sitting here with my head in my hands trying to squeeze out a personal example of this happening to me just last night, but all I feel is the dreaded Mommy Brain Drain.)  I can tell you that it does get pretty embarrassing  at times.  Once I couldn’t remember how to spell my own son’s name when I called his doctor to make an appointment.   J-O-S-I-A-H.

So what causes Mommy Brain Drain?  Is it the lack of sleep that causes the old thinker to suddenly become mush?  Is it those crazy hormones? (Think a big Italian momma standing up in a restaurant saying “Hor-mon-es” at the top of her lungs while silverware tinks (tinks?) to a silent hush.  Yep, happened to my very dear friends in a restaurant in Spain once.)  Anyway, back to the hormones, wow, those little mommas can really mess with the best of us sometimes, but I digress.  Maybe it’s the fact that all the sudden you have to keep ten irons in the fire all at the same time all the while nursing an infant, keeping the toddler happy while hanging  on your leg, and trying not to let dinner burn.  Oh, and talking on the phone to the garage door repair guy too.  Now, what was I saying?  Oh yes, the sleep thing.

They say it never really goes away either, so I say let’s unite in our lack of being able to string a thingie together and laugh at ourselves hysterically when we can’t come up with the exact word for which we are looking.  I still laugh when I think of my friend “Pearl” when she asked me one day out of the blue if I knew how to untie her shoes when what she really meant to ask was if I knew how to unlock and open a big shop door.    And Pearl is a grandmother.

What are your best Mommy Brain Drain moments?  We shall all laugh together.  Until then, best of . . .what’s the word I’m looking for???

and so it begins!

www.andsoitbegins.org

 

And so it begins! February 11, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — KTSP @ 9:45 am

I know, I know, everyone and their mother-in-law has a blog and has big dreams that it will go viral and the whole wide world will wait on pins and needles to read what they will write next.  So, why in the world am I starting to blog?  Blog is a funny word anyway.  Say it ten times fast.  Blog blog blog blog blog. . .

As a stay-at-home mom, a job which I have dreamed of since I was a wee child with plastic dolls, (which, by the way, never pooped, threw-up, threw temper tantrums the size of Texas, demanded every ounce of my attention, or loved me back with sweet devotion) I often find myself with many thoughts or funny stories running around in my head just begging to be put somewhere.  And since I can’t really sit my three year old and one year old down and make them listen to my silly antics, I decided that I would write them on the blog.  Maybe someday they will enjoy them and until then, maybe you will.  So, this is the somewhere!

So, welcome to the inside of my brain.

and so it begins!

 

 
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