Re-Cap–Part Two

Someone turned {insert jibberish talk here}

Oh, let’s not focus on it, but I should be called “Christie the Grey”.  Seriously.  And the thing about aging is that the following, it turns out, IS true – which I think my mother warned me about but I was too delusional to believe:

• You do eventually dread your own birthday.  This is truth.  Long gone are the party hats and kazoos and hard candy numbers on your cake.  They don’t make your number in hard candy, honey. And let’s face it – those hats are miserable on a double chin.  Am I right?
• You do eventually start cropping up regrets about what you haven’t done yet.  Only they usually involve things like laundry, dishes, and bill paying.  True dat.
• You do NOT find that growing old is graceful.  For Pete's sake, I barely escaped falling on my rear at my own birthday dinner – stupid tile floors.  I used to be a dancer people.  Don't hate.  I did!  And I was not afraid of sliding to the ground, all while performing a flawless “splits” maneuver.  Now the floor seems like an awfully long way down, down, down. (and let's face it - getting up is even more daunting..you know it's true.)
• You do eventually find that eating too much does in fact, have real-time consequences.  Not like when you were young and your parents would say “you eat all that and yer gonna get sick!”.  No, this time it’s for real.  You eat all that and you will be up at 12, 2, 4, and 6 AM swearing off Hibachi, burping up acid, and moaning in agony while downing a bottle of pepto.  You will.
• There are not enough well-wishers in the world to make getting old fun like it used to be. You’ve long since passed the point where “counting up” feels exciting. I’m 5! I’m 13! I’m Sweet 16! I’m 18! I’m 21! I’m…25… Oh no, I’m 30…. Oh my gah, I’m 35. Wait…stop this…I’m 37…holy cow, I’m almost 40. My life is almost over. I’m old. Stop the rocking! I want to get off! And so on.

The un-matched Ahi Tuna Tower

Note to self:  Next time, get a dye job, wear makeup and ix-nay-on the ipe-strays

School Stuff

My children are the cutest thing to happen to the planet in, like, ummm…ever.  Amen.  Make sure you see them both – Q is right behind Miss Cheeks.

This is a picture of the two of them in their pre-school Thanksgiving presentation.  I cried.  Then I snapped pictures.  Then I waved and comforted a weepy Keira who wanted to sit with mommy.  Then I did the ugly cry in the car on the way home, because they’re getting older (see above) and there is nothing I can do to change that…nor would I want to.  Mostly.  Some days yes, some days no.  But in moments like this, when they are so incredibly precious, I want to freeze time and never forget the way they sound, the way they laugh, the way they feel when I hug them…I just want to freeze it because I know I will blink and just like their babyhood, it will be gone…

Caramel Apple Making

So you can buy these Caramel “beads” now, (we got ours at Wal-Mart and I’m pretty sure they were by Kraft in the baking section) and they melt super easy on the stove or in the microwave and then you just dip away and let the apples rest for an hour in the fridge.  My kind of caramel apple.  And also?  It doesn’t get all hard and miserable, like when you peel a hundred pieces of caramel and then it gets like a Sugar Daddy and you break your teeth on it.  Not like that.  No, just soft and pliable and yummy.  We really enjoyed this – and it’s easy for the kids to help. 

Breaking Dawn

I haven’t seen it, so resist the urge to tell me if you loved or hated it.  Maybe you couldn’t care less.  I’m only here to say…ahem…Team Jacob.  That is all.  (except for this: yes, I read the books and yes, I know the ending.  So nevermind the spoiler…I’m still Team Jacob right up until the whole Imprint nonsense.  Seriously, what is that?  Yuck.)

30 Days of Giving & Thanks

Keepin’ it super real over here with a little confession time: we only made it half way through the month before we fell apart.  I would love to blame it on TOO MANY COMMITMENTS.  I would love to.  Can I?  Ok, I won’t.  But I will say that we had the best intentions, and then got inundated with doctors visits, Quint’s surgery, post-op treatment, school performances, work (x4 jobs), company, Thanksgiving, and many other things.  The shameful thing to this, is that none of that should have really mattered.  It wasn’t about going so far above and beyond every day.  It was only about a small gesture of thanks each day.  And we couldn’t even summon that up after about the 16th.  I’m remorseful.  It’s been really bothering me.  What does that say about us?  That we’re not “grateful”?  Certainly we are.  But more so, that we couldn’t take even that ten minutes a day to show it?  Ouch.  Not too happy about that.  Still, it’s about the attempt.  It’s about the “challenge” and this was a challenge.  Especially in light of the fact that were not completely successful.  I’m not sorry we tried – that was the point.  It’s the point of ALL of the challenges – to try and step outside your comfort zone and do something different.  They aren’t meant to be easy – or where’s the challenge?  I think you just have to prepare yourself for the potential to fail.  And you also have to be willing to look at what that might say about you.  Good or bad.  You’re the only one who can say.  Just make sure your excuses are believable to you.  That’s what I tell myself. (and sadly, my excuses were kind of LAME-O)