in review

book of the year: The Bell Jar, Sylvia Plath

accessory of the year: the ring Leslie bought for me, picture not forthcoming.

quote of the year: "Not today, mom. Not today." -William

Child of the Year: Ivy, for always being happy to see me.

Husband of the year: Christofer. (although in fairness, the competition was thin, Christofer being the only husband I have.)( I am confident, though, he would have come out on top either way.)

achievement of the year: my achievements are either hard to quantify or non-existent. Teaching Michael to read, maybe? keeping William alive? we'll go with that one.

best piece of advice received from a friend this year: "shut up. no, for reals, shut up."

TV show of the year: So You Think You Can Dance, and (once again) 30 Rock

discovery of the year: costco churros

best thing Michael has said to me all year: "that's a big bum." "...what did you say?" "behind you. that bum is big."

blog post of the year from this very blog: I think we can all agree.


number of blog posts this year: 220
number of good blog posts this year: 110
number of times I've given up and quit this blog: 4
number of times I've given up on giving up because I can't quit you: 4
number of times I've used that joke this year even though it's so 2005: 3
number of times I've tried to end this particular post: 6
number of times I've succeeded so far: 0
number of times I'm going to spank my kids right now for throwing play-dough around the house: 6 million




happy new year.

we wish you a Merry Christmas...

what is Christmas with no snow?

holly jolly

even though I frequently take pictures of the every day lunacy that goes on around here, I am somewhat notorious for forgetting to take my camera to actual photo opportunities.
such as the first time my kids sat on Santa's lap.
just a random example.
(they practically danced through the line, they were so excited.)

thanks for the pictures, Melissa!

confession

sometimes Chris and I wake Ivy up in the middle of the night just to play with her.

delivery

"please, mom?" Michael begs. "Please?" He's four years old. He wants to deliver treats to the neighbors without help.

"....okay," I agree. "But! you have to wear a coat."

"Yes! YAY! okay! YAY!"

"And! you HAVE to stay with William, and hold his hand tight while you cross the street. okay?"

"YES! I WILL! LET'S GO!"

"WAIT. William. You must follow Michael, and hold his hand in the street. Will you do that?"

"OKAY! YES! WE GOING, MOM!"

I watch from the window.

such good boys I have.

late afternoon light

frozen

I am so cold.

after bedtime

after bedtime last night, William managed to:

• find the thinning shears and cut a giant hole in his pajama pants
• dig out my mascara and paint his face and our bed
• throw q-tips all over the bathroom
• fill up the bathtub with water, jump in it
• break our toilet

Please keep in mind when reading that list, this was not the result of just one sneaking-out-of-bed incident. These were all individual sneaking-out-of-bed incidents, separated by repeated replacement and severe beatings.

ha! just kidding about the beatings.
lucky for him he's so damn cute.

sick day

I was going to write about how tired I am of everyone being sick,
but some mornings it's nice to wake up and have an excuse to cuddle up on the couch with a show (or your computer).
we're very cozy right now.

letters dictated to me yesterday

Dear Santa Claus,

Please can you bring me an action Luke Skywalker. And maybe a Darth Vader for my brother. Please bring a golden jewel for my mom and dad. I'm being a very good boy so you can come.

Love,
Michael





Dear Santa Claus,


Please give me a Darth Vader. I think maybe two Darth Vaders. And three Darth Vaders maybe? yes. I being a good boy.



Love,
William



(in case you were wondering, I have no idea why Michael thinks Santa should bring Chris and me a "golden jewel." When I asked him he said, "Because you're being really nice, Mama!"
so there you go.)

Darth Vader eating a turkey and avacado sandwich

"William," I asked, "why aren't you speaking quietly?"

"Because I Darth Vader," he replied, "and Darth Vader's a Bad Guy."






































valid point.

delicious

Listen. I have been shopping at Costco for a year and a half now, and all I want to know is, WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME ABOUT THE CHURROS?

obeying

this morning was one of those mornings, so when Michael ignored my request to go upstairs and get dressed for the third time I gave him my best mom face and was like, "Dude. You have ONE MORE CHANCE TO LISTEN. And then, if your clothes, your shirt and your pants, are not ON YOUR BODY, I am going to beat you."

Just kidding. I didn't threaten to beat him. I threatened to confiscate his lightsaber, which apparently is more horrible than a threatened beating. he almost flew into a rage. then he looked at my face again, thought better of it, and sighed in exasperation, because, geez. MOMS, you know? so annoying.

"OhhhKAAAAAAYYYYyyyyy," he said, and stomped upstairs. I was surprised to find a preteen in my house, but whatever. At least he went upstairs to get dressed.

In a few mintues he called down to me. "Hey MOOOoooom. I got DRESSssssed." I found the jocularity in his voice suspicious. A second later, my suspicions were confirmed, and honestly, my first inclination was to be even more angry because it had been one of those mornings. Then I thought, "Hey, wait. that actually is pretty funny."

and I laughed.

holiday spirit

Today Chris and I took the kids up to Festival of Trees, one of my favorite holiday traditions. Have you been? You should go. It is magical. The trees are incredible. The gingerbread houses are inspired. The fudge is divine. (so are the scones and cinnamon rolls.) (I try everything, so I know.) I want to be rich and bid on the play houses.

I wish I hadn't forgotten my camera so I could show you pictures. But I did, so I can't.

sorry.

Festival of Trees, aside from displaying some pretty spectacular creations, raises money for Primary Children's Medical Center, which is a really remarkable facility. A lot of the trees are donated in honor of Primary Children's past patients, some who survived, some who didn't.

I cry every year.
in a good way.

so just go. you won't be sorry.

This is Ivy.

this is Ivy thinking about breaking the rules:



this is Ivy acting as her own lookout:



This is Ivy pulling an ornament off the Christmas tree:


This is Ivy being excited by her success:



this is Ivy realizing her mom is staring right at her:

oh.

crushing my writer's block with an iron fist, OH YES

I've been trying to think of something to post about for two days, and have come to the AMAZING and TOTALLY ORIGINAL conclusion that it is easier to write when life is stupid than when life is super awesome. and the last two weeks of November were really super awesome, so what did that leave me to write about? NOTHING.

lucky for you, Ivy spiked a temperature yesterday, I woke up this morning feeling decidedly less-awesome-than-before, and my kids have already heard me swear twice today. so. yay! we can now return to our previously scheduled complaining posting.

my camera and I are in a fight. We have been in a fight for about a month now, and everytime I mention it to someone they ask me who's winning, only it's not that kind of fight. It's the kind of preteen-girl-hissy-fight that has no winners, only an endless supply of pain and evil. This is why I took no pictures of our Thanksgiving. I did, however, take pictures of some of my relatives who were around, and while only half of them turned out the way they should (YOU ARE STUPID, CAMERA) look how pretty some of them are:

energized, or something

I woke up yesterday morning with an unfamiliar feeling. I had ... something ... that I hadn't had in awhile. I got up and fed the kids. I fed myself. and not just by foraging for food in the pantry, either, I did this thing where I sliced fruit and toasted wheat bread. It was amazing. Is this how we used to live? I can hardly remember.

after that I was still feeling that weird feeling, so instead of falling on the couch inert, I read to my kids. Outloud. With my raspy, squeaky non-voice, and we all thought it was hilarious. We laughed, our laughter rusty with disuse. it scared Ivy, who wasn't sure what that sound was, but after we sorted it out, oh, how we laughed.

And THEN! after that! I did that thing that people do, you know that thing where they clean themselves? In, like, a shower? And this is the best part: after I was finished, I put on clothes, actual clothes that I hadn't slept in. then I did the same to my kids. "why aren't we wearing Pajamas today, Mom?" they wanted to know, but at that point the strange feeling had vanished and I couldn't answer. Why were we wearing clothes? Was there a point? also, who am I?

So after that I took a nap.

but still.
I guess this means I'm not going to die after all.

SOS

Ivy has a fever
William threw up all over the carpet
I am pretty sure I'm dying
and my computer still doesn't work


how am I going to survive tomorrow? HOW?

( no, really. how?)



(happy stories to follow at some point later this week.) (if I'm not dead.)

October

i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun's birthday;this is the birth
day of life and love and wings:and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any--lifted from the no
of all nothing--human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

--e.e. cummings, I Thank You God

friday at the pumpkin fest

(last year)

(this one taken by Chris)

where technology comes to die

If I haven't been blogging, it's only because my house is a giant black hole of horrifying and costly technological malfunction. First it was our heating and air, then Christofer's computer, then my computer, then Christofer's car, then my computer again, then my camera, then my phone,
then my entire universe imploded,
and so on and so forth.

you get the idea.

and now, before anyone can enter the house, I have to give a standard caution: please leave any and all expensive/valuable/working equipment on the porch, because inevitably the forces of darkness in this house will wear upon them and you will end up spending hundreds of dollars in fruitless and frustrating repairs.

consider yourself warned.

next, and this isn't related in any way, I just wanted you all to know I wore a brand-spanking-new black skirt to church today (because I do not have enough black skirts) that I really thought was fantastic, but now I am seriously rethinking, because TWO PEOPLE asked me if I was pregnant.

TWO.

so that was awesome.

also, this week I made a bunch of caramel/chocolate apples to give away, but ended up eating most of them. and now I'm sad that I ate them, mostly because I wish there were some left to eat right now.


dear Great Pumpkin,
please send me
1) a computer that works
and
2) more caramel apples.
thanks,
Liz


(I also might have seen It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown this week.)
(twenty times.)
(what's new with you?)

the littlest carnivore

at 14 months both the boys were all about avacado and wheat bread and cheese and asparagus.
(I know.)

Ivy Elizabeth, on the other hand, would like more turkey:






and while I'm up, could she have it with a side of bacon, and maybe a nice juicy steak?



(she is her father's daughter.)

unfair

this is the face of a heartbroken little boy, a poor tragic thing whose cruel and unfeeling mother took away his lightsaber, wouldn't let him watch a movie, forced him take a little rest, hid the rest of the treats, and made life a total misery.

And then took a picture of it.

life is hard.

wishful

ugh! and also, gah!

I swear, everytime I resolve to try and make my blog interesting, or at least routinely updated again, something happens to impede me.

This time, impediment came in the form of Technical Difficulties.

Don't even get me started on how I feel about Technical Difficulties.

When these Technical Difficulties are stablized, I will try to revive this blog again (but who knows, the universe hates me and, whatever, I don't even care).

in the meantime, may I direct you to a 4-year-old post about how fat I become while pregnant?

or perhaps you'd prefer to read a post that my very patient husband doesn't like (because it's true)?

or maybe you'd like to hear about an experience I found so embarrassing, so completely humiliating, that even now, some 11 years later, thinking about it still makes me twitchy?

enjoy.

resistance (is futile)

Hey, William. What are you doing?


Noffing...
I hiding daddy's screwdriver.

of course you are. Are you feeling tired yet?


no! no! Never. ARGOOOOOHHHHHHHHhhhhh! hmm.


I don't believe you. Let's go upstairs and take a nap.


no! no naps, mom. I just take a little rest. little like this:

OKAY MOM? OKAY?

nope, we're going to do a real nap. let's go upstairs and get in bed.

not today, mom.

not today.

housekeeping

as some of you know, my other blog is now completely inaccessible.
and since I know many of you will find this tragedy almost too much to bear, I have begun importing certain select entries onto this blog.
The winnowing process has been very scientific, based on the following rigid criteria: if I saw the title, thought, "eh, I've written dumber things," and hit the import button, it was imported.
So, if you're ever far enough back in my archives that you start noticing entries tagged "imported," you'll know you've found blogs from my mysterious blog of yore.
I must now go stop Ivy from pulling all my clothes off their hangers. Again.
Good day.

fix it

There were two reasons I didn't put any pictures of all my hard work up yesterday:
1) despite painting myself into an early grave, I didn't actually finish and
2) my camera battery was dead.
but now it is charged, and even though my downstairs still isn't finished (apparently, there is no such thing as magical project fairies, whatever, universe) I will show (some of) what happened.

I decided to do the same color through the downstairs, since the spaces aren't well-defined. first, I painted the front room. it used to look like this. Now it looks kind of like this:



Then I painted all the ceilings white. Then my arms fell off. Then I realized there was no way was I going to finish everything (what with having no arms, and all), so I taped a line between the family room and the kitchen, took a bunch of aleve, and painted the family room before calling it good:

as you can see, I have more to do. and I won't be able to get to it until at least the weekend, so this ugly line will just be sitting there. taunting me.

ugh.

why does everyone else like projects so much? I don't understand.

project reject

earlier this week, when some plans I had for the weekend were postponed, I was overcome by a wave of what then I would have termed "ambition" but now I would call "total raving lunacy," and I decided to paint my house.

Here's the problem. I have a crafty, do-it-yourself type husband, who has crafty do-it-yourself type relatives, plus I now have many crafty do-it-yourself type friends, and with their encouragement/support/example, it doesn't take long for me to go from thinking about what I want done to my house, to thinking, hey, maybe I could do that to my house. because what kind of moron can't paint their own house?

So I start, and I get about halfway though the project before remembering that I am the kind of moron who can't paint their own house. that kind of moron is me.

it has been quite the weekend. my elbows may never forgive me.

and if I ever, ever again, intimate in any way, any way at all, that I want to learn more crafty, do-it-yourself type skills, please shoot me.

the end.

love

chris and I finish having a "discussion."

him: I'm sorry.

me: I'm sorry.

him: I'm sorry, too.

(pause)

me: I'm really sorry, Chris ... I know I'm impatient, and frustrating, and thoughtless. and a huge pain in the ass.

him: ...well, yes. but you're pretty, so that's okay.

me: nah. I've decided to stop being so pretty all the time. it's exhausting.

him: oh. then you're definitely going to have to work on that other stuff.

friend time

This is our friend Tanner.


I love this kid, in spite of the fact that he is not fully convinced of my competency.
or maybe I love him because he's not fully convinced of my competency.
it's hard to say.
"I'm not going to look at your camera," he told me.
And he didn't.
Michael, on the other hand, gave me full on Magnum:

Tanner is good at jumping on the tramp and knows lots of stuff about Star Wars. Michael thinks having Tanner over is the Bee's Knees.

Neighborhood friends are the greatest.