Ice Ice Baby

It just isn't summer without the ceremonius brain freeze.

The Proverbial Fork In The Road

I'm thinking I should go right. Oh and self, next time you attempt this shot, bring a spotter - avoid the art attack.

Raindrop Reflections

Reason #9874 why spring and my macro lens prevent me from doing housework.

Plan. Interrupted.

So I got a call.

Odds of all odds, I somehow won the National Geographic amateur photo contest with this photo I shot of Mt. McKinley.

Not ONLY did I win all new Canon 1D equipment, $5000 in cash, but I also won the opportunity to experience an African safari photo shoot with their crew and one of my photos will grace the cover of the August edition.

Uh-huh. That's right.

Then the alarm went off. I made breakfast. Changed a diaper. Started the laundry. Cleaned up dog poop. Changed the litter. Cursed the dream and resumed my otherwise glamorous lifestyle.

This is what happens when you watch The Secret Life of Soccer Moms. Stay away.

That's what I says.

Little People. Big World.

Need More Water?

How To Make Dinner With A Toddler

1)  Irrationally hope for the best. Give him toys while you start dinner.

2)  4 minutes after that tactic fails, put in a DVD. Long live Elmo!

3)  2 minutes after Elmo fails, encourage a sing-a-long-you're-screwed tune.

4)  Reluctantly unlatch 1 childproof cabinet.

5)  Allow him to obliterate the kitchen.

6)  Quickly, throw something together.

7-12)  Repeat steps 4 and 5 as needed.

13)  If all else fails, allow toddler to humiliate the dog**. Again.

**No pets were harmed during the making of this post.

Purge-atory

Help. I'm stuck in purge-atory.

It all started when I cleaned out my closets, which led to cleaning the ceiling fans and even the dreaded high-chair.

This weekend we tackled basement boxes. Junk.o.rama. I haven't seen these things in 15 years; treasures from grade school thru high school.

I'd like to think I could recycle or sell some of it, but me thinks I think too much.

Let's take a look.

Exhibit A: Ah, my coveted 3rd grade scratch-n-sniff sticker collection.

Exhibit B: My 1980's floppy disk software programs that Bill Gates sold first.

Exhibit C: My embrace-your-menstruation-welcome-to-womanhood LIES manual.

Exhibit D: My ceramic breakfast art entree (which I was awarded 9th out of 10th place thankyouverymuch).

See what I mean? Back to purge-atory.

Reality? Check.

What's the best parenting advice you ever got?

Today I made a quick run to Target to pick up a few, which incidentally turned into 30, things. We were approaching naptime and late for lunch.

As our cart entered a quiet aisle, my eyes locked with Metro-Mom's eyes. She was 10ish years my senior and had snob embroidered on her coat (not really). My son started shabbering (shouting + jabbering) "MAMA, MAMA" repeatedly.

Fearful of invading Metro-Mom's quiet space, I started to hush him. The tactic failed admirably. Between the rushing and the hushing, I only became agitated.

Metro-Mom smiled and said "Please take my advice and enjoy that. Before you know it, you'll be begging him to talk to you."

This complete stranger's advice spoke to me like a billboard on a highway. Maybe because it was raw, unbiased, unexpected and lacking any agenda.

Self: Slow down. Enjoy the moment. It will be gone far too soon.

From a mother to another.

Hi-Def Hell

What doesn't work? Sharing a camera.

I don't like getting my picture taken. Never have.

So when my husband, in attempt to learn my camera and be funny, took my photo while I was getting dressed, I was less than amused.

I told him to delete it. He nodded. Life resumed.

During 1 of many boredom-enriched moments at our family holiday party, my glazed holidazed self suggested a camera photo slideshow on our TV.

When the crowd roared at slide #25, I knew something was amiss. Kid photos, although cute, get boring after 2 slides or less when they aren't your own.

There I was. Consuming 62 high-definition inches. In my underwear and bra.

I gave my husband the stare of damnation. And vowed to never, ever let him touch my equipment again (camera or otherwise).

Why DO I Blog?

This tag is from Trinity - simply answer why you blog. I'll nag and tag Serina (you asked for it), Andrea & Bren. Feel free to opt out.

I prefer reading posts to writing them. This is why my Google Reader overfloweth. When I started my blog, I posted a lot (2-3 times daily). Somehow, I got a visitor, a comment and a friend. The rest is herstory.

The overwhelming feeling of always being behind on reading and posting sometimes makes blogging feel like an obligation to me. I realize this is probably not a popular thought especially with NaBlogClogMo going on. But it is my thought. And it is genuine.

Some days, I feel like hitting this button because blogging makes me non-productive and steals time from high priority people and tasks (sleeping).Like everything in life (chocolate being an exception) moderation is key. I like blogging more when I do it less. Izzy, Tartx & G already figured this out.

I pledge to blog without obligation and "Mark All As Read" without guilt.

Back to the tag. Why DO I blog? In a word: community. I get my daily laugh, support, wisdom tid-bits and inspiration from all of you.

It's because of you internets.

So ...

My husband and I went to a Halloween party. Being the procrastinator that I am, I researched and made costumes the day of the party.

My husband wore a big felt E on his shirt while I sported paper-clips.

Can you guess what we were?

He was E-Male E-mail and I was the e-mail attachment.

The crowd consisted mostly of Scientists and Engineers so this boring little ensemble was, needless to say, a rather big hit.

These were friends and previous co-workers. It was amusing to hear how absolutely nothing has changed since leaving for SAHMdom.

I was then approached by a female with authority (in corporate-ville). She asked me thee question. The question I wondered myself when child-less.

"So. What do you do all day?"

Really woman, you're a Mother yourself (of 3). You know the answer and I know your intent.

"I sleep til noon, watch movies, surf the net, eat bon-bons, drink fru-fru drinks, go shopping while my toddler dresses himself, changes himself, bathes himself, feeds himself, plays by himself and occasionally irons."

She wasn't amused.

Lesson learned: always. be. prepared.

Imagine

When I was a child, I thought smokestacks created clouds. Imagine that.


I've been fortunate to travel quite a bit and revel in all Mother Nature's unimagined beauty. Some day, I want my children and my grandchildren and their grandchildren to be able to witness that same beauty. Yet, sadly, it's not a certainty.

I've seen first hand, our planet, you know the one we all live in, in peril.

I've seen the glaciers retreating.



The canyons being threatened.



The rivers losing vital stream flow.



The oceans warming and rising.


I feel a personal responsibility to do something; here are some really simple things we do. How can I possibly tell my children someday that we were aware but did nothing.

Imagine if we all took some little action. Raise your voice, you have a choice. I urge you to care. We need to stop wishing. And start working.

Imagine that.

Irony

My mom. Bought me. Mom pants.

No joke folks.

I vividly recall opening the box and seeing them for the first time.

Oh God, does she see the flashing exclamation point over my head?

I love my Mom and I know she meant well, and more importantly, I know when to pick my battles, so I graciously accepted them and thanked her for the kind gesture. When I got home, I immediately buried them in the back of my closet on top of the donate pile.

I'm pretty confident my other clothes are still heckling those poor mom jeans to this very day.

Horror of all horrors, my Mom asked me last week how I liked those pants. And then she continued to inquire that she hasn't actually seen me wear them yet.

Oh no. She hasn't forgot.

Thinking quickly I replied "Oh those are too good to be everyday jeans". Gulp. Shame on me, I know.

The rents are coming to visit this week and I'm considering these options.

1- Wear them and accidentally spill something on them to remove.

2- Have them hanging on the washline, indicating I've just worn them.

I'm leaning towards #2. What do you think?