I forgot the password

Both my kids are now in school full time, from 8 am to 3 pm.

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No, it’s more like

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I have recently started participating in activities that I had abstained from in the past due to the pursuit of such activities being an exercise in futility.

What are they?  Oh, you know, stuff like bathing regularly and being able to hear myself think.

I have been immersed in 24/7 child care for so long that seven hours on my own feel awfully strange.

I have to keep reminding myself about tiny details, like that it’s okay to sit down to a meal without having to worry if the boys have had theirs, and that I can now pee with the door completely closed.

And locked.

That last one is still taking some getting used to.

Summer vacation 2015 felt like the long weekend from hell.  Each day was so much like the other that I felt as if we were on constant rewind.

Even my boys were bored out of their minds with so much free time.  The other kids in our neighborhood were either at camp or on vacation.  Sure, we had swimming and karate classes twice a week, but what else is there to do to fill up the many, many hours of radiant sunshine that is summer?

That’s right.  Video games.

And don’t even get me started on the fights that these games caused.

Each morning I would wake up to the sounds of screams and shouts, some excited, some plaintive, some whiny, and some of them combined with tears.  I would stumble my way to the living room like a zombie, still half asleep, the effects of not having gotten enough rest clearly showing in my puffy face.

Blogging?  What blogging?

I am an avid reader/follower of many different, wonderful blogs, and I hate when they don’t get updated for extended periods of time.

Of course, I would never do that, I prided in myself.

Which just goes to prove that it’s easy to blame the chipmunk if the nut has fallen from the tree.

Didn’t get that?  I didn’t either.  I think it’s my summer brain still doing the talking.  Or should I say typing.

But you know what I mean.

Oh, the onslaught to the parental brain that is summer vacation.

And don’t forget its evil sibling, which is the transition from late nights and lazy days to early mornings, parent teacher conferences, PTA meetings, and homework.

Shudders.

No, it’s not that we don’t want to spend time with our kids.

What ever gave you that idea?

It’s just that summer kids are bored kids.  They’re bored kids with bored friends who are so bored that they start thinking up of devilish things to un bore themselves and then they end up not bored, but also not very happy.

Like my 5 year old, who thought it would be fun to go all George of the Jungle on the long living room curtains.

Watch out for that coffee table!

He flew right into it.  On TV, little birds go round and round your head when you crash into something, but in real life, you get a big hole in your chin, where, upon impact with the coffee table, your incisors chewed through your lower lip.

You get blood that looks like a chocolate fountain coming out of your mouth, 3 hours in the ER, and seven stitches.

And you get a momma with severe heart palpitations from the stress.

And that’s not even the worst part.  You want to know what the worst part was?

The worst part was that when they were all backpacked and ready to head out the front door that first day of school, I didn’t want to let my kids go.

That’s right.  Even after this crap fest of a summer, all I wanted that day was to have my sons stay home with me.

Figure that out if you can.

I wanted to diaper them, feed them mush from a jar, and have myself be their go to person for their boo boos, their stories, their meals and their play time.

I wanted them to be my babies forever.

Damn those onion cutting ninjas!

With precious little brains left, I had no time nor energy for creative wording, so I just gave up attempting  blog posts during the summer.

And because of that, I forgot the password to my WordPress account.

Late in August, when the reprieve, AKA the first day of school, was right around the corner, I attempted to log in and failed.

Five times.

And now that I’m here, that’s all I had to say.

Hope your kids are enjoying being back in school as much as mine are!

Happy Birthday America

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Happy 4th of July!  Or, as my son likes to put it : Happy Birthday to America!

He picked out the picture.

This has always been my favorite holiday because it takes place in my favorite month, during my favorite season.

Not to mention the day honors my favorite place, my home, where I have grown up and lived pretty much my whole life.

What’s great is that the entire country starts celebrating a week in advance.  

And I love celebrating.

Enjoy the fireworks, everyone!

the moment, now, isn’t for me 

To live on in time.

In the wind, amongst the trees.

The moment, now, isn’t for me.

To live on, whether broken.

In a half, or a token.

In words held, unspoken.

The moment, now, isn’t meant to be.

Life in motion

is of rare devotion.

Too quickly the days will melt.

And the memory past

will seldom last 

beyond words, unfelt.

There is a place,

beyond all trace

of repetitive motion, activity.

Where lingers the grace

of love, enlaced 

with the perfume of fidelity.  

RIP

When you’re sick or upset, you want your surroundings to match your mood. 

 Right now I feel like giving the sun the finger.  I want it to rain and thunderstorm. 

Looks like there might be a slight chance. 

  

It’s the first time I’ve ever mourned for a TV character. 

Behold the power of the television.  It can affect your brain long after you’ve hit the power button. 

Do yourself a favor and don’t ever watch the last episode of your favorite show when you’re home alone and no one is there to cheer you up. 

 It’s just sad. 

I felt something similar after the last scene of Brokeback Mountain

RIP Shano.

 

How is it done

They don’t fade easily.

Those worn memories.

Silent daggers,

piercing reverie.

Drops in the ocean 

of never meant to be. 

How is it done, by the world, the rest?

To treat them as strangers. 

They, that were once guests. 

In the most tempestuous of courts. 

The longing of mind,

the desire of hearts.

Now if only Shawn Wayans was there, too

For my husband’s belated birthday celebration, we had a small party at our house and then he and I went to see a late night comedy show at the Improv Comedy Club.

We had two cakes at our little party because my mom’s birthday is the day after my husband’s and we usually celebrate them together.

How I wish we could’ve spent more time at home with the family.  Instead we ran out of the house in a hurry and left the cleaning up and the kids for my in laws and my mom, i.e. the birthday girl, to take care of.

Whoops. 😳

But they didn’t mind because what else do grandparents want other than to spend time with their grandchildren?

Their words, not mine.

We were headed to the club for a “meet and greet” session with one of my husband’s favorite comedians, Marlon Wayans.

Here are some pics of the night.

All the VIP badge meant was that we paid extra to be first in line.

Seriously.  That’s all it meant. 😐

But being first in line got us a super nice table in the front row, so it worked out.

They didn’t allow any photography during the show, which was fine with me because we were laughing too hard to even eat anything.

Then came time to meet the man.

And here we are with him.  He was a nice guy.  Friendly, polite, and hyper.

That’s us with those fat white circles covering our faces.  Just in case you couldn’t tell.

The night was a lot of fun.  The only thing that would’ve made it better was if Shawn Wayans had shown up as well.  Sumi and I always thought he was the cuter one of the two.

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They gave each group a maximum of 2-5 mins with Marlon, which was a real bummer.  Given the chance, I would’ve loved to have had a conversation with him in which I would mention that I have a sister who is single and finds him quite attractive.

My husband had a great time and so the night was a big success.  He said the fun we had made him forget that he was now closer to 40 than 30.

Now I’ve gotta figure out what I’m going to do for my birthday in order to forget that I’m turning 26 again for the fifth time.

For richer or for poorer, but not during the Colts game

Prayers for the tragedy in France.  “Peace cannot be achieved through violence, it must be attained through understanding” – Ralph Waldo Emerson.

Welcome to the newly renovated The View Through The Window.  I was getting tired of that old theme and I like to switch things up now and then.  I hope you like this new blog style as much as I do.  Now back to our regularly scheduled blog post.

He’s the good cop to your bad cop.  The fun loving parent to your disciplinarian.  The one who sneaks your kids candy during time outs.  I quote, “Daddy’s awesome and you suck.”

Point noted.

Husbands.  You gotta love em.  And because we love them, let’s start with all the things they do that make them wonderful :

-He comes home after work.

Moving on.

I’m just kidding.  We all know husbands do a lot more good than just come home from work.  Let’s add to the list.

-He comes straight home from work.

Still kidding.  Don’t get your boxers in a bunch.  The real list follows :

-He comes straight home from work to a crabby wife and hyper kids, yet still manages to remain upbeat.

-Is tired as hell but tells you to take a break.

-Knows exactly what to do when you’re angry.  When I’m mad at him, my husband starts cleaning.  He strongly believes that cleanliness is next to godliness because it prevents your wife from doing that head turning thing from the Exorcist.

-Doesn’t question the logic behind why I can be as grumpy as I want but he gets in trouble for not smiling enough.

-Worked for years at a job he hated because he felt he had to.  His hard work is what made it possible for me to stay at home with our kids.  This is the reason why I call my husband the real superman.  That and because he’s survived being married to me for so long.

-Is ever supportive, whether it’s you wanting to go back to school, starting a blog or turning off all the lights and pretending no one’s home when the neighbor’s annoying kids show up uninvited.

-Is the world’s greatest dad.  My husband has more patience than a monkey has love for bananas.  He can play make believe games with my boys for hours.  I would rather clean the house. Or watch paint dry.  Or clean the house while I watch paint dry.

-He lets you blog about him.

And since nothing and no one is perfect, here are things he does that make him so very annoying :

-You send him to the supermarket for cauliflower and he returns with lettuce.  You ask for parsley and he gets spinach.

-Half your kitchen stuff ends up where it shouldn’t be when he unloads the dishwasher.

-His version of cleaning is to dump everything in the kids’ toy box and/or the closet.

-You can always count on him to not answer his phone.

-Wouldn’t know his way around the kitchen even if it came equipped with exit signs.

-Thinks it’s okay to have a conversation with you when you’re brushing your teeth.  Or through the bathroom door.  But thou shall not interrupt viewing of football game.

-Thinks we are out of <fill in the blank> if a sixty second search for it yields nothing.

-Grins and says But I picked you when you tell him his taste sucks.

-Thinks sitting down to pee is a strange and foreign concept.

-His looking for something usually ends up with you finding it for him.

-His lack of attention to detail and failure to pick up on social cues makes you wonder if he spent his adolescent years devoid of human interaction.  When I was pregnant and mine no longer fit, my husband thought it was okay to tell my family I was wearing his underwear.

-Hogs the blanket.  Tosses and turns enough to wake the dead.  My husband’s nocturnal bed shaking (no, not that kind) once even woke him up.  He turned to me, still half asleep, and asked was there an earthquake? to which I replied no, darling, your ass was just doing its sleep aerobics thing again.

-Leaves all pantry and cabinet doors wide open.  Shutting them makes you feel like Vanna White after an exceptionally large puzzle solving on an early 90’s episode of Wheel of Fortune.  You know, before it went all touch screen.

-He lets you blog about him with the condition that you will do a similar post on wives.

Needless to say, I accepted the challenge.