Oh, To Be a Man

(and no, this isn't a disparaging post)

I saw this party write-up on Hostess with the Mostess today. I lurve this idea; it makes me wish that I was a man so that I could have a Grumpy Old Man Party.

A Grumpy Old Woman Party just wouldn't be the same. Let's compare possible itineraries...

Grumpy Old Men (this was the original party-goers itinerary)

• get up really early
• put on awesome old men clothes
• go to a donut shop and read the newspaper
• go longboarding
• work on the car
• breakfast at the local diner
• 18 holes of golf
• lunch at the clubhouse; plus whiskey and pipe smoking
• shenanigans in the parking lot (likely thanks to the whiskey)
• jacuzzi time
• swim racing (even grumpy old men need to compete)
• BBQ for an early supper
• drinks at the local dive bar

OK, what could a Grumpy Old Woman Party include

• wake up early
• get dressed in old woman clothes
• grab huge purse and head to the beauty salon for a "set"
• gossip while getting hair did
• go out to a pancake house for breakfast and coffee
• gossip while having breakfast
• head to a watercolor class (which could actually be fun. Anyone heard of watercolor nudes???)
• light lunch and complaining contest (mostly cocktails LOL)
• bargain shopping (everyone would have to pull a metal cart behind them and would only have a certain amount of money to spend; who could do it the best)
• relaxation time (pedicures at the spa; let's get those corns looked after)
• supper at a swanky restaurant where we laugh uproariously and have no verbal filter
• drinks at a blue collar pub; where we can harass all the men for a change

Well, I've changed my mind. An Old Woman's party just might be simply delightful!

What ideas do you have for activities??? I just might have to throw one of these parties, so throw the ideas my way!

Funny Boy

The weather here has been really nice. I mean, REALLY NICE. The temps have been way above normal; we're talking shorts and tanks people! It seems like everyone has been wearing sandles for weeks now, but I am slow to catch on. Yesterday I realized that my kids were still wearing their rubber boots. There have been no puddles for least a week. Their poor little feet must have been sweltering in those boots. Yes, I'm Mommy of the year material for sure.

So, off to the shoe store we go to get their little piggies outfitted in some swanky new Dawgs. Hey, they may be ugly, but they can put them on themselves and every little bit of help helps me. Lukas picked out his own pair, while Mikah layed on the bench feigning indifference to the whole process. In fact, every time I turned around the little bugger had put his rubber boots back on. I figured that he would embrace his new shoes tomorrow.

Tomorrow came (this morning) and he in fact did embrace his shoes. Or would have, if he was wearing socks in them. There was a fit of epic proportions when he realized that his very mean Mommy, whom he hates by the way, was in fact going to make him wear the shoes sans socks. I wouldn't normally be so heartless, but I was too lazy to do the laundry last night or hunt around for matching or even semi-matching socks this morning. I was sure I would be on easy street with one less thing to get ready in the morning thanks to the new sandles. Mikah was not having it.

It turned out that his aversion to the sockless sandles was not the feel of the shoes, it was not the cooler air upon his feet, it was not the shoes themselves, it was not the color of the shoes, it was not the fact that he hadn't picked them out himself. It turned out that he needed to wear socks so that no one saw his "bare-naked-toes."  All the screaming, thrashing, yelling, and yes swearing was over bare-naked-toes. I told him that no one would care and that all the other kids would have bare toes as well. But no, he was convinced that the babysitters would look at his "bare naked toes."

His mean mommy, whom he hates, threw him in the van sockless. He would have to chance it.

He wore his shoes all day.

Now I've Gone and Done It

I have a new quasi-blog.

http://hipmammma.tumblr.com/

I came across Tumblr. tonight and thought, "now, what is this?"

The next thing I knew, I had another blog. My Tumblr account will be dedicated to all of the amazing things that I stumble across online. Many of the things that people make/do are too awesome not to share.

Check it out, and if you suddenly, magically have a Tumblr. account, follow me so that I may in turn follow you.

Night all.

Love.

Last night was the first time that I heard this out of my baby's mouth;

"Wub You"

Aww, I wub you too Lukas!

Welcome to Holland

WELCOME TO HOLLAND

         by   Emily Perl Kingsley.

I am often asked

to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability -

to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience

to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It's like this......

 

When you're going to have a baby,

it's like planning a fabulous vacation trip - to Italy.

You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans.

The Coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice.

You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting.

After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives.

You pack your bags and off you go.

Several hours later, the plane lands.

The stewardess comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland."

"Holland?!?" you say.

"What do you mean Holland?? I signed up for Italy!

 I'm supposed to be in Italy.

All my life I've dreamed of going to Italy."

But there's been a change in the flight plan.

They've landed in Holland and there you must stay.

 

The important thing

is that they haven't taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease.

It's just a different place.

So you must go out and buy new guide books.

And you must learn a whole new language.

And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.

It's just a different place.

It's slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy.

But after you've been there for a while

and you catch your breath, you look around....

and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills....

and Holland has tulips.

Holland even has Rembrandts.

 

But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy...

and they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there.

And for the rest of your life,

you will say "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go.

That's what I had planned."

And the pain of that

will never, ever, ever, ever go away...

because the loss of that dream is a very very significant loss.

But... if you spend your life mourning

the fact that you didn't get to Italy,

you may never be free to enjoy the very special,

the very lovely things ... about Holland.

~This poem sums up how I am feeling at the moment; it's amazing how I can feel blessed and emotionally devestated at the same time. I love my life in Holland, but I do wonder what life in Italy would have been like.~

How Old Are We

Mikah: Mom, you're going downstairs?
Me: Yes
Mikah: We can't come. I'm not old enough yet, me only 3.
Me: Yay! Yes, that's right, you're 3!
Mikah: Yeah, and Lukas is 2.
Me: That's right!
Mikah: And you are 6. Right Mom?
Me: Awww, of course I'm 6. How old is Alek?
Mikah: What is dad's name?
Me: What is dad's name?
Mikah: Yeah, that guy is old. He's older than 6.
Me: What about Alek?
Mikah: Oh, Alek is 3. He's the same as me. We're old as each other. Can I come downstairs with you?

This conversation marks the first time that Mikah has told me how old he is. He has refused to admit that he is now 3. What a milestone! And for those of you not in the know, Lukas is 2, Mikah is 3, Alek is 9, and we are older than 6. And yes, the Mr is older than me.

~As I type this Mikah and Lukas are in the living room playing Time Out. Funny how nicely they can sit in time out when it's only a game.~

My Week Off

In the words of my love Mika; Relax, Take it Easy...

New Look

What do you think?