Things to Outgrow

One of the . . . perks? perils? side effects? . . . of having an older sister is being indoctrinated at an early age into the world and ways of all things feminine.

Case in point . . .

When G was two and three and four I couldn’t very well tell him “no” when his older sister and I got to painting our toenails. What was the harm?

Well, the harm may be that he is now six and still thinks it is fun to have painted toenails. The bonus is that his sister now does the painting.

Things are so much easier when Mamma can be bypassed altogether.

I’m hoping he outgrows his fondness for painted toenails . . . at least when they are his own.

But since this is how he and his sister spent part of one evening a week or so ago . . .

I’m guessing that won’t happen very soon.

My . . . um . . . shall we say . . . attentiveness . . . to this situation may be compounded by the fact that this is the same boy who loves to do hair . . .

His sister’s hair . . .

His mother’s hair . . .

Generally when he has finished brushing and twisting and piling and adorning he surveys his work carefully and says something like, “There, Mommy, now you look like a princess!”

The least I can hope for is that if his interest in these activities does not wane, he puts his skills to work in the future by a) pampering a very grateful wife . . . preferably his own, and / or b) opening a high-end and very lucrative all-inclusive salon and spa.

And when he opens that spa I’ll be expecting those massages, pedicures, manicures, etc. in exchange for services rendered on his behalf from when he was born through age 18.


We Done Gone and Did It

We did it.

We bought one-way tickets to California last night . . .

Reservations for 2 adults, 2 children, 2 large dogs and 1 tiny hamster.

Add a rifle case, car seats and the four suitcases we will have lived out of for a month and check-in should be an extraordinary amount of fun.

For those of us who have yet to fully absorb the reality of our pending change of address this is yet further proof that this whole move thing is actually happening.

The next reality check will be in 14 days when the movers extract the 2000 pound pile of “stuff” from our dining room.

Did I really just write “14 days?”

If I may quote Heather L. Sanders, “Oh, My Stinkin’ Heck!”

Hello, Stranger

It’s been awhile.

There is a reason for that.

Actually there are, if my estimation is correct, 128 reasons . . . each of those reasons being approximately 43 minutes long.

Shortly after my last post I sat through an entire episode of the Fox™ series Bones.

The addiction was instant.

I had to watch all six seasons.

Streaming the first five seasons maxed our allocated bandwidth for the month of May.

Of course, engrossing myself in the Booth-Brennan dynamic might also have had something to do with the fact that the sheer volume of work required to get organized for this move had me swimming in overwhelm. So I pretended we weren’t moving and went on my very first (and last) TV vacation instead.

The complete lack of self-discipline I exhibited is standard for me when I become absorbed in a story. It is precisely the reason I rarely read non-fiction books . . . our world comes to a screeching halt until I’m ready to return the book to the library.

But I’m back.

Life is returning to normal – as normal as it can be considering we are in the middle of a temporary move out-of-state. Clothes and dishes are now being washed daily and not necessarily by my husband. Line items are rapidly getting checked off the pre-move to do list and the children are no longer allowed to slip and slide through their chores. There is a giant pile of stuff under our carport ready for a garage sale and a giant pile of stuff in our dining room waiting for the movers.

Back to normal.

It was a lovely hiatus.


P.S.  Note from G – the boy who refers to this ! as an “excitin’ pointamation” . . . these ” ” are called “talkin’ marks.” Just in case you were wondering.