Thursday, January 29, 2009
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
In a mood
Things I'm in the mood to do today:
Play blocks with Rylan
Make banana bread
Write reflective things that I'm then too embarrassed to post (yeah...already did that. See note below)
Go on a picnic and watch Rylan toddle around in the grass (cute!)
Think of something amazing to do for Trevlove for Valentine's day
Work in my garden
Linger over decades-old letters that my grandparents wrote to each other
Go on a bike ride
Sit on the beach... I know, we don't have a beach
Write a card and send it to someone.
Read Les Mis in my favorite place in the house
Things I'm not in the mood to do today :
(let me consult my “to-do” list)
Vacuum (am I ever in the mood to vacuum?)
file papers in the office
Go grocery shopping, even if it's at Mekong Plaza (see upcoming Thursday post)
Confront the fact that I need to go grocery shopping by going in and trying to make lunch.
Note: Since starting my blog, I've been in a writing mood. I don't post everything I write. I'm not quite confident enough to expose my brain to the world like that. I should stop blogging and just write a journal, which is the main reason I blog anyway.
Play blocks with Rylan
Make banana bread
Write reflective things that I'm then too embarrassed to post (yeah...already did that. See note below)
Go on a picnic and watch Rylan toddle around in the grass (cute!)
Think of something amazing to do for Trevlove for Valentine's day
Work in my garden
Linger over decades-old letters that my grandparents wrote to each other
Go on a bike ride
Sit on the beach... I know, we don't have a beach
Write a card and send it to someone.
Read Les Mis in my favorite place in the house
Things I'm not in the mood to do today :
(let me consult my “to-do” list)
Vacuum (am I ever in the mood to vacuum?)
file papers in the office
Go grocery shopping, even if it's at Mekong Plaza (see upcoming Thursday post)
Confront the fact that I need to go grocery shopping by going in and trying to make lunch.
Note: Since starting my blog, I've been in a writing mood. I don't post everything I write. I'm not quite confident enough to expose my brain to the world like that. I should stop blogging and just write a journal, which is the main reason I blog anyway.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Nothing to blog about
I had a mental discussion with myself this morning. I was looking over my to-do list and noticed the word “blog” somewhere in there. It's been a few days and so yesterday I slapped that in there so I wouldn't become too negligent. Unfortunately, I didn't think I had anything in particular to blog about. My inner conversation went something like this:
Me: Blog? Aw, come on. I'm not really in the mood to blog.
Me: Sorry. It's on the list. That means you need to do it.
Me: But I don't have anything to blog about.
Me: What? What?!? Nothing to blog about? We might as well say our life is meaningless and boring, which you know very well is not the truth.
Me: Well...
Me: Now get out your camera, walk around the house, and find the exciting and meaningful things of the last few days.
So I did. And here's what I found....
Definitely the most exciting, most meaningful new news (Trevor and Rylan aren't new news, unless you count Rylan saying “NO!”, which I'm definitely most unexcited about). My aunt called me yesterday to let me know she had three more boxes of papers for me as I'm working on my grandparent's history. She was worried I would cringe with more material to go through, but as I went through them last night, I was giggling with glee. There are SO many fun things in those boxes! I found newspaper articles written about my grandparents, a stinky feet song my grandma wrote as a child, some awesome letters and essays, and the list goes on. This will really help me, and I'm pumped! 
Okay, I know, not in the least bit meaningful, but as I walked around the house I saw these, and, oh! I do love these red shoes! Bought them yesterday at Savers for $6. My dad says they make him want to say, “there's no place like home...” Move over, Dorothy.
My 10 dollar garage sale find that is now functioning as my family history center. We painted it red and I LOVE it. I still want to put a corkboard on that area immediately above the desk, but it's a start, and I'm thoroughly enjoying it.
Okay, now what's not exciting and meaningful about that? I love those two. Especially when Rylan is happy and enjoying a book and not yelling his first word (NO!) and Trevor is being the amazing father he is. If this was the only picture here I'd still be happy with my meaningful, exciting week. I'm a lucky girl.
I've been enjoying the new and improved play room now that it's usable. A few days ago I lifted all those blinds, washed all those windows, and we've been basking in the sunlight ever since....glorious.
I finished the Book of Mormon again this week and am moving on to the Doctrine and Covenants. It was a wonderful chance to remember again how fortunate I am to have these words and truths in my life. They keep my life movingin the direction I want to go, and I'm so grateful. So there. Wander around and dig a little deeper, but I guess I did have something to blog about after all.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
The Happy Noise
On my long list of unique things about Rylan, at the very top must be the happy noise. He makes this noise whenever something pleases him, though the first time someone hears it they jump and stare. I have a feeling that initially it sounds anything but happy. It has at one time or another been described as everything from the Rylan Purr to Growling to Donald Duck noises.
By this time, I have accepted it as part of his routine communication, but most people crack up when they hear him. The worst is when he does it really loud at the kids behind him during the sacrament at church.
For your viewing pleasure, I bring to you The Happy Noise.
Fortunately, it was very easy to get a video of this because he always makes the happy noise when he's excited or interested in something I'm showing him.
In this case, that something is the camera.
He also makes this noise if he sees someone he loves, does something he's proud of, or sees food he wants to eat.
As a sidenote, check out those baby blues. He certainly didn't get those from me!
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
The qualitative difference
So, what with the New Year having rolled around, my schedule is back to normal and as is my yearly tradition, I've been pondering the upcoming year and how I would like to shape it.
2009, however, is the first year I have begun as a Mother, and I have found it makes all the difference.
In a normal year previous to this one, I would have had a resolution, say to blog more (and no, unfortunately that is not one of my resolutions. I'm afraid I'll be as bad this year as I was last year).
Having decided upon a resolution, I would have laid out my schedule for the upcoming year and systematically worked out how to fit time for each resolution. It was always so satisfying to piece the various aspects of my life together, jam-packed tight like a jig saw puzzle, but so neat and efficient. "Blogging", for example, could have been sandwiched with "working out" in the two hour break between my 7:40 class and my 10:40 class on MWF. Every hour of my day was laid out, and though I didn't always follow it through 100%, just knowing that every goal was quantified and in its place was reassuring.
As usual, this year I made my sweet list of resolutions. As I was trying to parcel out my day to various and sundry activities, all quantified in neat little packets, it occurred to me that one of my greatest goals, Motherhood, has thrown a wrench into my perfect, reassuring system. As I watched the hours in between my resolution-oriented tasks disappear, it occurred to me that a) those were my Rylan hours that were dwindling and b) who am I kidding? All the hours are Rylan hours.
To illustrate my point, even as I type this, I am doing it one handed, holding Rylan on my lap as he drips cracker crumbs onto the carpet under the desk and struggles to pound on the keyboard.
Motherhood cannot be quantified. It is qualitative, and yet I need to fit it into my quantitative world.
Don't get me wrong. This doesn't mean that I am dropping all my resolutions or throwing the whole planning idea out the window. I refuse to become a mother that becomes completely stagnant in the name of her posterity.
To be honest, I don't even know what this means yet. All I do know is that this is a major paradigm shift for me and that I may need to rework my definition of success a little bit. Though I believe every mother comes to this realization at some point, I have a feeling that success is different for every one and how they order their life to become a successful mother is also unique from one individual to another.
I probably won't figure it out anytime soon. Maybe I never will. But in the meantime, I'll work on my goals with Rylan in my lap and maybe a crumb or two under the desk.
2009, however, is the first year I have begun as a Mother, and I have found it makes all the difference.
In a normal year previous to this one, I would have had a resolution, say to blog more (and no, unfortunately that is not one of my resolutions. I'm afraid I'll be as bad this year as I was last year).
Having decided upon a resolution, I would have laid out my schedule for the upcoming year and systematically worked out how to fit time for each resolution. It was always so satisfying to piece the various aspects of my life together, jam-packed tight like a jig saw puzzle, but so neat and efficient. "Blogging", for example, could have been sandwiched with "working out" in the two hour break between my 7:40 class and my 10:40 class on MWF. Every hour of my day was laid out, and though I didn't always follow it through 100%, just knowing that every goal was quantified and in its place was reassuring.
As usual, this year I made my sweet list of resolutions. As I was trying to parcel out my day to various and sundry activities, all quantified in neat little packets, it occurred to me that one of my greatest goals, Motherhood, has thrown a wrench into my perfect, reassuring system. As I watched the hours in between my resolution-oriented tasks disappear, it occurred to me that a) those were my Rylan hours that were dwindling and b) who am I kidding? All the hours are Rylan hours.
To illustrate my point, even as I type this, I am doing it one handed, holding Rylan on my lap as he drips cracker crumbs onto the carpet under the desk and struggles to pound on the keyboard.
Motherhood cannot be quantified. It is qualitative, and yet I need to fit it into my quantitative world.
Don't get me wrong. This doesn't mean that I am dropping all my resolutions or throwing the whole planning idea out the window. I refuse to become a mother that becomes completely stagnant in the name of her posterity.
To be honest, I don't even know what this means yet. All I do know is that this is a major paradigm shift for me and that I may need to rework my definition of success a little bit. Though I believe every mother comes to this realization at some point, I have a feeling that success is different for every one and how they order their life to become a successful mother is also unique from one individual to another.
I probably won't figure it out anytime soon. Maybe I never will. But in the meantime, I'll work on my goals with Rylan in my lap and maybe a crumb or two under the desk.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Thursday, January 8, 2009
The Trilogy of The Great Trade, Part II
My sister in law Courtney was over with her husband, Aaron. They just recently got married, and over dinner we were listening to their newlywed debate over how to spend their money. Courtney is majoring in music therapy and drools over Craigslist ads for pianos.
Aaron laughs at her and tells her they have no money. He also tells her that there is no way he's carrying a piano up the stairs to their second story apartment. To top it off, they're moving to China at the beginning of the next school year, and where would they store a piano while they're gone?
Much to Courtney's chagrin, Aaron is an extremely reasonable fellow.
Trevor and I have a piano that we bought off Craigslist when we were first married. It is a small spinnet that, unfortunately, is somewhat neglected. I don't play the piano well, but I do use it to go over choir pieces I'm working on.
Courtney has a Bosch that, tragically, is extremely neglected. She got it for their wedding a few months ago, and it cries in the cupboard, pining to make bread while Courtney and Aaron are well wrapped up in their scholarly lives.
So we devised a deal.
Courtney will get our piano until they leave, along with assistance to move it into their apartment.
I will get the Bosch, Courtney's electronic keyboard, and weekly piano lessons from Courtney.
I will get to try out a Bosch and find out if I use it consistently before investing in it myself. I'll also get piano lessons, which will be lovely and might alleviate my guilt at letting our piano-- the symbol of music in our home-- leave with such ease.
Courtney will get a piano while all of Aaron's reasonable concerns will be resolved.
Brilliant, absolutely brilliant.
Aaron laughs at her and tells her they have no money. He also tells her that there is no way he's carrying a piano up the stairs to their second story apartment. To top it off, they're moving to China at the beginning of the next school year, and where would they store a piano while they're gone?
Much to Courtney's chagrin, Aaron is an extremely reasonable fellow.
Trevor and I have a piano that we bought off Craigslist when we were first married. It is a small spinnet that, unfortunately, is somewhat neglected. I don't play the piano well, but I do use it to go over choir pieces I'm working on.
Courtney has a Bosch that, tragically, is extremely neglected. She got it for their wedding a few months ago, and it cries in the cupboard, pining to make bread while Courtney and Aaron are well wrapped up in their scholarly lives.
So we devised a deal.
Courtney will get our piano until they leave, along with assistance to move it into their apartment.
I will get the Bosch, Courtney's electronic keyboard, and weekly piano lessons from Courtney.
I will get to try out a Bosch and find out if I use it consistently before investing in it myself. I'll also get piano lessons, which will be lovely and might alleviate my guilt at letting our piano-- the symbol of music in our home-- leave with such ease.
Courtney will get a piano while all of Aaron's reasonable concerns will be resolved.
Brilliant, absolutely brilliant.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)