Monthly Archives: August 2009

Girl Talk Thursday – Let’s talk music

Back in college, my roommate Shannon and I had this joke about how Thursday should be called “Nasty Thursday”. She had a class she absolutely hated on Thursday mornings, and so it ALWAYS felt like it was Thursday. Now that I try to do Maria’s Girl Talk Thursday every week, I’m getting that same always-Thursday feeling, albeit a far less nasty one.

This week we’re talking about music! I’m not sure if it’s favorite songs or most meaningful songs or a combination of both. I’m just going to talk about some songs. Some of my favorites, some that mean a lot. WARNING: These are not necessarily high quality songs. I may be laughed off the internet. I am FINE WITH THIS.

“Alone” by Heart. This is, far and away, my favorite song in the world. It’s the way it starts out as one thing, and then the chorus builds, and, before you know it, Ann Wilson is going freaking insane all over the place. The lyrics are so desperate, longing to get that person you want so badly ALONE. As in WITHOUT OTHERS. I can relate, is all I’m saying.

“What a Wonderful World” by Louis Armstrong. Is there a song more full of hope than this one? This song makes me smile and blink back happy tears every time I hear it. Seriously, play this one at my funeral, folks. That’s the kind of message I’d want people to take from my life.  I hear babies cry. I watch them grow. They’ll learn much more than I’ll ever know. And I think to myself, what a wonderful world.

“Sweet Baby James” by James Taylor. Shannon (of Nasty Thursday fame, see above) was pretty much the best roommate you could ask for. When I found out I was going to be in a triple, and one of the girls was planning to rush a sorority … well. I was concerned. But Shannon is pretty much one of the most amazing, beautiful people you could ever hope to meet in your lifetime. (Seriously, click over to her site and check out some of her art. She floors me.) I don’t know how or why it started, but she used to sing us to sleep some nights, and “Sweet Baby James” was always one of my favorites. It was the first song I sang to Vio, when she was brand new in the hospital, and it’s the first song she asks for when she wants a lullaby.

One” by U2. True story: I used to hate U2. Then I heard this song, and I changed my mind.

ANYTHING by Missy Higgins. This is where the music with real meaning for me starts. Her first album got me through some rough times in my early 20s. I’m pretty sure, based on what she wrote in that album, she and I would have a lot to talk about over a big pitcher of margaritas. ‘Cause I’m a little bit tired of fearing that I’ll be the bad fruit nobody buys. Tell me did you think we’d all dream the same?

“Cry” and “Hush” by Angie Aparo. You probably have no idea who Angie Aparo is. Or that Angie Aparo is a dude. But you do know the song “Cry”, because Faith Hill peed all over it and then destroyed my radio with it. He came to UF to do a free concert in the Reitz Ballroom during my second year, and only 30 or so people showed up. I know he’s not a big name act that tons of people have heard of, but his music has always spoken to me on that same level. I can’t tell you what an experience it was to hear him sing from 10 feet away, and then get to TALK TO HIM after the show. Love this man, love his music. There’s a moment lost in time when she says, “Hush. I’m on your side. It’s just the two of us.”

“Fair” by Remy Zero. This is off the Garden State soundtrack, and, honestly, I could put that whole album on here. This is my favorite track. It just oozes the sexy for me. Definitely a lot of passion. Also, I’m sort of in love with Zach Braff, so maybe that’s clouding my judgment. What if you catch me? Where would we land?

ANYTHING by Journey. Duh. This may be where I get laughed at, but can any of you not rock out when “Don’t Stop Believin'” comes on? Or not wail along with “Open Arms”? (Erika, I KNOW you’ve got my back here.)

Guys, I could do this all day. The more I write, the more songs I think of. I’ll stop here and let you all take over in the comments. (And any time you want to play along with Girl Talk Thursday, just click the button at the top of the post! There are PRIZES, dudes.)

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Subsequently, I burnt the orzo while typing up this post

So this evening I set out to make dinner in a VERY messy kitchen. With Roo’s new mobility, getting much of anything done has been pretty difficult. As we struggle to find the “new normal”, we plod along getting as much done as possible. So the laundry is done, but the dishes? Haha.

I needed a large pot to cook up some orzo pilaf, but I was TOTALLY SHOCKED to find it caked with marinara sauce from dinner last night. I put it in the sink to soak for 10 minutes or so while I set about playing on Twitter tidying up the living room. Vio had been in the kitchen trying to “help me” with the dishes, and I left her at the sink stirring the water in the soaking pot with a big spoon. (This activity? I don’t know why I don’t think of it ALL THE TIME. She freaking loves stirring dirty sink water with a big spoon.)

After a few minutes, I noticed it was REALLY QUIET. I ventured into the kitchen, peeking between my fingers, afraid of what I might encounter. What I saw was this:

Cute pics4

She was WASHING DISHES. And not just the one dish, like I originally thought (and reported to Twitter, because that is so the first thing all the rest of you would do too, DON’T LIE). She did a whole sink full of dishes.

Dishes1 edit

Seriously? I could eat up this cuteness. But where did the dishes come from? SURELY they came from the counter overflowing with disgustingness:

Dishes3 edit

No? Let’s check elsewhere.

Dishes2 edit

Ah, there we have it. They came from the dishwasher. The dishwasher that was sitting open because I ran it this afternoon, and I was letting everything air dry. My freshly cleaned dishes were all coated in soapy marinara water.

Dishes4 edit

Also coated in marinara water? Vio, her clothing, the floor.

And yet … I’m pretty sure I’ve never been more proud. (Also? I blogged this so I can show it to her when she’s 12 and thinks doing dishes is SO TOTALLY LAME, MOM. GOD.)

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Filed under My girls, Photo essay

And, sadly, I don’t think cowbell will cure it

I appears that I have the baby fever.

Yesterday, I IMed Matt at work.

“So, just to warn you … I’m pretty sure I’m going to want to have another baby.”

He took it pretty well, considering his wife is clearly an EXPERT at knowing there is a proper time and place for everything. He’s not against the idea, but also isn’t entirely convinced. Myself, I go back an —

(Pardon me for the abrupt break at this point in the post. This would be where my dear Rooster, who was happily nursing, STOOD HERSELF UP and proceeded to dump out an entire cup of ice water onto the carpet. Perhaps this is the universe telling me, “DUDE. Don’t do it.”)

Myself, I go back and forth. Which is to say, some days I feel like I will definitely have at least one more child, and other days I feel as though we may be done. The pros and cons fight each other in my head until I don’t even know which side I’m on anymore. I know this isn’t a decision I have to make today (or ever, honestly, as it’s not entirely up to our whims and wishes), but it’s the curiosity inside me that wants to know what our family will look like in 10 years. (And FINE. The CONTROL FREAK PLANNER, okay?)

I look at it from so many angles, talking myself into and out of it repeatedly. Most of my cons are, I think, sort of silly things. I grew up in a two-child family, which I thought was perfect. The dynamics of a family with more children than that is foreign to me. I also love the idea of a family of four for the sake of simplicity. You all fit at a regular restaurant table or in a sensible small car comfortably. One parent per child. More of each of us to go around.

But I know all of those are minor things, honestly, in making a decision so big. They’d be worked out as quickly as it took to wash away my fears of “how will I love anyone as much as Vio?” the moment Roo was in my arms.

I am trying to base this decision on the assumption we would have another daughter. I refuse to have another child “to get a boy”, but I also know that I would be heartbroken to spend my life without a son. I’d not trade either of my girls for a boy, but wishing for another child leaves me open to that longing.

Another child also means more years before I get to go back to work. Back to a library. But what is a couple more years when measured up against the life of another whole person?

There are SO many other things I want to say here. My thoughts on another pregnancy and delivery, another year or two of nursing, dooming Roo to middle child status. But, really? Does any of that matter? Because when it comes right down to it, I look at our little family, and I’m happy. I know this could be enough. It would be enough, if it had to be. But I look at us, and I wonder, Is this our whole family?

I’m just not so sure that it is.

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Filed under Decisions decisions, My girls

Ordinary day

Today was a good day.

It started out like any other — earlier than I’d like, and louder, of course.

My father came over for a couple of hours to play with his granddaughters. They piled into his lap and listened to stories. He took Vio for a walk, and she brought me back wildflowers she saw along the trail.

Nap time came quickly, and before I knew it, Matt was home. He came bearing cookies, which Vio and I shared over giggles. We all sat on the carpet, the four of us, rolling balls back and forth, banking them off the couches and making them spin. Even Roo was playing along, with her chubby baby wrists, chucking the balls with all the force she could muster. When things got too silly, Vio shouted, “Come on now, guys!” and we all laughed.

We went to Target to pick up some things and decided a simple dinner was in order. I had a hot dog while Vio had some macaroni and cheese. A silly treat, to eat at the Target food court. She had her first taste of ICEE … “My mouth is COLD,” she declared, with wide eyes. We spent an hour just wandering the aisles, looking at plates and decorations in preparation for her upcoming birthday party. We discovered a Belle doll (her favorite princess) and her face lit up, but she didn’t ask for it. She’s not yet to the age where she asks for things, and I try to treasure that. While Matt picked up a prescription, she and I paced back and forth. “I’m stepping on the windows, Mommy. The windows in the floor. Like those, on the ceiling!” She was chasing the reflections of the big fluorescent lights on the shiny floor. I remembered doing the same thing when I was young and tried to breathe in a little bit of that magic.

We came home, and Roo gobbled up her oatmeal — definitely a first. Normally she deigns to accept a couple of bites, but this week has been all about proving what a big girl she’s becoming. She’ll be eight months old in just five days, and I have no idea where the time has gone. We spent the rest of the evening taking pictures of the girls, making faces, and playing on the floor.

It was a simple day, to be sure. Nothing spectacular or out of the ordinary. But it’s a day I want to remember, a long time from now, when they’re both big and don’t want to hold my hand. A day when a taste of daddy’s ICEE and storybooks with papa were all it took to make them happy. A day when pulling up from a crawl was a triumph.

Today was a good day.

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