About a week or so ago, I expressed my disgust with my inability to really buckle down in this whole weight watcher’s thing. I debated the different routes I could go to keep myself on track, including telling you all what I had for breakfast, something I’m sure you all would really not care to hear.

Basically, there are 2 plans that one can do on weight watchers. You can do the Flex plan, or you can do the Core plan. The Flex plan is what I was doing last year – in fact, it was the only one availabe at that time. A serving of a food is assigned a point value based on the amount of calories, grams of fat, and grams of fiber. Who knows what formula it uses, but roughly, it’s 50 calories = 1 point with some leeway for bad things (more fat, less fiber=more points) and good things (less fat, more fiber=less points). On the flex plan, you have a certain amount of points you can eat per day depending on your current weight, and then you have 35 Flex points that you can use over the span of the entire week. After your weigh-in day, the week begins again, and your 35 weekly Flex points resets for the new week. It’s a good system with a lot of flexibility built into it (you can eat whatever you want, even use those 35 Flex points all in one day, but then you have to stick to your daily points and nothing over that the rest of the week), but heavy on journaling, which I am not good at.

I should also mention that both plans have daily requirements that one is supposed to have. A vitamin, 5? 6? (I don’t even know *cough* don’t ever make it) servings of dairy, 6 glasses of water, 6 servings of fruits and/or vegetables. One is supposed to include these in their daily intake for a healthy diet. The water is super important – if you don’t drink the water but have a perfect week otherwise, you might not see anything on the scale. Who knows why, it just is. It’s hard to do the water for me, but it’s the easiest thing on the daily requirements. I never get the milk in. I just take a calcium supplement at night instead. Fruits and veggies… Yeah, that also is rare. I have some fruit usually every day but I could go a few days without any veggies sometimes. Sad but true. Back to the plans.

The Core plan is what I was attempting. There is a core list of food which you can eat whatever you like, using your own hunger as a gauge (if you are full, don’t eat! how fancy! how innovative!) You get 35 Flex points per week which you can use on whatever foods you like that aren’t on the core food list. The Core list is made up of healthy, non-processed foods. It is really getting back to a more natural and wholesome way of eating. Bread is not on the core list, you would have to use some weekly flex points for that, but you can have potatoes or rice once a day – they limit it because those foods could be a trigger food for someone looking to snack. Lean meats, non-fat dairy, and of course all the fruits and veggies you could shake a stick at are on the list. Soups, as long as they are broth based and not cream based get the OK as well.

The problem with the core plan is unless you cook all the time, you start cheating. (I should stop saying “you” all the time. It’s me the one doing this, not you.) I do pretty well with the cooking a lot, but it takes preparation, and if I don’t prepare, then I’m going out to lunch during the week and I’m making guesses like, “Well, the turkey breast should be core and all the veggies are ok so I probably just have to count points for the honey oat bread on that sub and they only use lighte mayo so ……” It just goes on and on. I never actually count the extra points, I just figured it was low enough to be within my weekly flex points. The yo-yo weigh-ins told the truth about THAT little myth.

Well this was a long story, but a few people have asked me how weight watchers works, so I thought I’d fill in some of the blanks. The point is, I’ve switched to the Flex point plan this week, and to help me in my efforts, I enrolled in the WW Online E-tools which basically has all the foods you could ever find in a database already assigned their point values and I just have to search for it, and enter it into my online journal. No paper and pencil and looking it up in little books or using the little slide-rule calculator to find the point values. Online does it all, I just have to remember to DO it.

So anyway. That is what I’ve done to get back on track and I am feeling pretty proud of how I’ve done this week. Since I missed last week, this week will be a biggie – I’m sure I gained over Thanksgiving, so I’m hoping I’ve lost what I gained and then some for an official loss this week. I’m looking at that 20 lb goal by New Years, and this is my first big step. Honestly, even if it’s a disappointing weigh-in, I feel like I’m doing well, I’m ontrack and on top of the situation instead of being all, “Oh it’ll work out!” which is never true.

I’m sure I’ll let you all know how it went tomorrow – as well as how my pitiful Southern Living party went as well. I bought some stuff for the party, the makings of some mimosas and bellinis, along with a couple of shrimp plates (very weight watcher’s friendly, btw!) Tomorrow I need to tidy up and vacuum but I’m not going to kill myself over this one. Yes! I have children which means messy house and my walls are bare! BITE ME!

That’s a good motto. I smell bumper stickers.

amy loves toasty socks straight out of the microwave.

To all those desparately awaiting the answer to the relative hard or softness of Plantation Lane… The judge knelt, felt, and proclaimed it to be hard. This was some time after the initial conversation, so unfortunately, the amount of interest in the road’s hardness had cooled considerably. In fact, he was a little confused why I was draggin him out into the road, and even expressed concern for getting hit by a car. As if his mother would let him get hit by a car! Now feel the road, dammit, the Internet wants to know!!

UNFORTUNATELY, the ride after the feeling of the car was hellish in OH so many ways. First, as soon as we were in the car, Ethan started to list several complaints about his body. In fact, he wasn’t even complaining, just informing me.

“Mommy, my ears hurt.”

DING DING DING DING!

“I’m coughing a lot, Mommy.”

“My eye is all goopy, Mommy.

Kid, you had me at “my ears hurt.”

I had the doctor on the phone, a SAINT of a woman whom I now love and adore more than anything. I asked if we could come in, and on hearing the affirmatived, informed her we’d be there in 20 minutes, about how long it takes to get from Ethan’s school to the doctor.

There are basically 2 exits off of 66 to get to our abode, and one of the exits have 2 routes one could take. So all in all, 3 possible ways to get to the main street that has all the developments on it. We took one route. It was WAY backed up by an accident, so then I, so cunningly, so COYLY, scootched over to a backroad which would take me around all the traffic, PAST the accident, and sail us on down to the main drag. All that intrigue, and it was for NAUGHT. The accident, snafu, whatever it was, was still past where we came out, and the cop directing traffic was turning EVERYONE AROUND. Including us.

I will spare you all the rest, but basically, it took us an hour to get to the doctor, with a stop to “water the grass” (IN THE RAIN!! I made sure we were standing DOWNWIND) and a stop to fill the gas tank (No euphemisms there, we really had to fill up with gas, it just sounded like it was slang for something nasty and dirty, but it wasn’t! totally clean here!)

So, finally, at the doctor’s office (who WAITED FOR US, BLESS HER HEART!) we discovered that Ethan was on sick boy.

Ear infection. Conjunctivitis (that’s pink eye, folks) (apparently, these two things often go hand in hand. Who knew? Not me.) Swollen glands. Swollen tonsils. Sore throat. Snotty snotty snotty nose. Slight fever.

My poor boy. After spending forever in the car, and then visiting the doctor, we then wended our way to Target and settled in to wait for his prescriptions to be filled, which was really starting to put him way past his bedtime. Then home, a snack, medicine, eye drops, and bedtime.

Anyway. I spent yesterday at home with Ethan, and James stayed with him today. I couldn’t today, because I got *cough* had to go to DC for some more training, and thus.. sigh… hand to forehead, I just HAD to go to perfect pita. Damn I love that place. I also finally met up with a friend of mine from the place where I temped for a month, and that was nice too. She’s the kind of gal who even when we first met, it seemed like we’d known each other for years, and we talk and the time zips by until I have to skedaddle back to training or be LATE!

Ethan seemed a lot better tonight, still a lot of coughing, and now it has turned all wheezy, which I wonder if I should be concerned about or not. His eye is much better as well. Tomorrow, BACK TO SCHOOL!

I’ll try to update again tomorrow, because this weekend, I am hosting another dreaded party, this time, of the Southern Living at Home, variety. This time, it looks like it’s not going to be that great of a showing, either, which makes me wish the earth would crack open and swallow me up, because you know, throwing a party and having no one come is never a happy thing. Ugh. I’ll be so glad when it’s over. I’m never doing one of these again.

EVER.

amy melts in your mouth, not in your hand.

This morning on the way to school, Ethan being chatty as always, inquired as to what road we were on. I usually give him a running narrative on what road we’re on, which way we’re going to turn and onto what road. He informs me to give him more information on occassion, usually by pointing out roads we’re passing and demanding, “What is THAT road mommy?” So this morning went like this:

“What road are we on now, Mommy?”

“We’re on Sutter Rd. We just left Woodwin Drive, and turned right onto Sutter Road.”

“I like Sutter Road. It’s my favorite. But I don’t like *that* road, Mommy.” (pointing at some side road)

“Ahhh.” (this is my standard response instead of saying, ‘I have no response to that.’) “Now we’re turning left onto Planbee Lane.”

“I like Planbee. It’s on the way to my school!”

“Yes, your school is on this road.”

“This road is soft Mommy.”

“Soft?” (‘Ahhh.’ didn’t seem to apply here. More info was needed.)

“Yes. It’s soft.”

“I don’t think so, I think it’s very hard.”

“When we stop, let’s feel it, Mommy.”

“Good idea.”

We pulled into his school and I dutifully crouched down and beckoned him down too. “See? It’s hard.”

He shakes his head and points out to the street. I can’t pull one over on him. He knows this isn’t the road.

“NO OUT THERE! We need to feel THAT ROAD. I think it’s soft.”

I promised him on the way home, we’d feel that road. I’ll keep you updated on it’s resistance to permanent deformation.

well, it’s been an interesting holiday weekend.

Let’s re-cap, shall we?

Thursday was Turkey day! Yay! I had this weird depression hanging over me all day, and who knows why, because the night before, we had our first snow. It was beautiful, blanketing the ground, transforming the world into a winter wonderland. If I could write poetry, I’d be plaguing you with some very badly written, I’m sure, poem about it. I just love winter. I love the crisp cool air and the snuggly warm clothes that hugs you all day long when you wear them. Ahhhh. Oh yes. Me and winter could get married and live together for many a long day. Sorry James. I’m eloping with winter.

So anyway. I think the depression started when I woke up Thursday morning and James wasn’t in the bed next to me. Through cold and flu season, this often happens, he often abandons me if I’m snoring or if he can’t sleep or if he’s coughing or if I’m coughing, etc. It usually doesn’t bother me, but on Thanksgiving day, it did for some reason. It’s not just the absence of James next to me, he also takes his pillow, his other pillow, and his blanket. So I wake up and roll over and there’s this yawning abyss of nothing but bare cold sheets staring back at me and I feel utterly alone in the universe without even his pillow to grab and smell to remind me of him. The snow was also gone, like it hadn’t even happened. “HAHA,” it said, “JUST KIDDING!” *sniff*

Second thing to bring me down is the holiday itself. It’s a day dedicated to eating and family, and it was just us this year, which, don’t get me wrong, was nice. However, what is NOT nice, is killing yourself making yummy food just to hear someone say, “I don’t like that Mommy.” Over and over and over again. While you’re making it in the morning. While your putting it in the oven. When it is on his plate and you’ve told him repeatedly that he doesn’t have to eat it, and that one little taste won’t kill him.

I blame his picky father. It’s more convenient than any of the other choices.

Jocelyn, luckily, is at a beautiful stage where she will eat anything. And does, often. While I was cleaning the meat off the turkey later, she kept coming round for a bite every few minutes. She’s a turkey fiend (She also loves the rotisserie chicken from Costco).

So yeah. We should have done like a friend of mine did, and just ate Thanksgiving on the couch during nap time, because I think it would have been better for my morale. I am exaggerating, it isn’t like I killed myself cooking, in fact James was in charge of the turkey, and then we only had dressing and Company Carrots â„¢* as side dishes. While I love this stage of their development, sometimes I just can’t wait until they’re older so holidays like this won’t be just a waste of time.

*Company Carrots â„¢ is my family’s trademarked Thanksgiving day side dish. It’s almost more important than the turkey. My mom used to just tell us that however many carrots we peeled, that’s how much she’d make. Well, we would peel dozens, because we loooooved company carrots. It’s so yummy! Even James likes company carrots. No idea how it got that name though. It sounds like the dish is very old, like from Anne of Green Gables era, and the recipe would only be brought out when company came over for tea or something.

Friday I did some work at home, which was fun and no fun at the same time, and then Friday night I bullied James into going into DC with me with the kids and seeing The Polar Express on IMAX in 3D. It was pretty fun. We took the metro in, (“A TRAIN!!!! We’re in A TUNNEL!! Look, a TRAIN STATION!!” -Christmas will be hard to beat this year) and we walked around the JAM-PACKED Natural History Museum for a bit before the movie. Ethan was a wee bit afraid of the big dinosaur bones, and we didn’t go see the Hope Diamond, which I always like to go check out, and Jocelyn stayed in the stroller, which made maneuvering through the millions of people a bit on the impossible side, but the movie was the prime draw anyway. I’ve seen it with Ethan about three times in the theatre, and James hasn’t ever, so I did Jocelyn duty, and Ethan and his daddy watched the movie in 3D. Jocelyn did pretty well in the movie, with the help of graham crackers and bagels and jujifruits (fruit snacks that we have named “jujifruits”, not the actual candy) I had to take her out in the last half hour, which wasn’t bad, because she had tons of fun spinning around in the wide open lobby and then came running over to me to fall down. She also got some good jumping practice in.

James admitted that it was worth it, even though he was starting to feel miserably sick, just to see Ethan watching the movie which he adored. Grandma has already called me and “dibs” the Polar Express DVD as her Christmas present to Ethan. Kind of a bummer, because I’d have liked to have it in the house before Christmas and watch it up to the big day. So, along with the “METRO TRAIN MOMMY!” ride to and from DC, Friday night was fun, even though poor Jocelyn had to sit in the same diaper all that time because her mother forgot to bring one. Doh. Luckily, Mr. Poop stayed away.

However, Friday night, the real fireworks began. James spent his night in the kid’s bathroom, and I spent mine in our bathroom. He was sitting on the throne, I was kneeling in worship before it’s porcelain white-ness (wondering exactly when the last time I had cleaned in there was, actually). We decided later that it could only have been the turkey day leftovers that we’d had for lunch. I consulted with my mom, and we decided that since the dressing had egg in it, it was probably that. Yes, James and I were mildly food poisoned, and it will make me tread lightly in The Zone henceforth forever after! We weren’t as speedy in tupperwaring our leftovers after the Big Eating Event, and we will be from now on!

I think James got the worst of it (he was pooping all night, whereas I actually puked only once), but it wasn’t pleasant for anyone. Even the kids, especially Jocelyn who remained in her crib Saturday morning until 9am, and in her crib during nap time until 4pm. Luckily Ethan entertained her a bit during that time. Probably reassuring her that no, Mommy and Daddy aren’t dead, they’re just sleeping. Don’t worry, they’re breathing, I was watching. (Not really. Of course, I was asleep, so how would I know what those two talked about.) The rest of the day, they pretty much ran around our immovable tired, feverish bodies while we occasionally called out directives such as, “don’t pull your sister’s hair!” and “No hitting!” and “Your brother is not a punching bag!” and “TIME OUT!” before drifting into sick desolate non-caring again. As long as no one dies or is maimed, they’ll be fine, right?

So Saturday passed in a haze, and generally we felt better Sunday, but even today (Monday) I don’t quite feel 100 percent. The tummy is ok, but now a sore throat and general achey mopey yuckiness* have taken over. Luckily though, it’s liveable, which is good because I don’t get vacation time until I’ve worked at this company for 6 months. Yay.

So that is the Thanksgiving holiday weekend wrap up.

“I’m thankful for my hair.” – quote from Amy, at her eleventh Thanksgiving dinner when everyone had to say what they were thankful for. (I’m never going to live this down anyway, so I thought I’d let you, the Internet, not let me live it down either. Was that sentence grammatically correct? I don’t care anymore. Goodbye.)

* according to my spell checker, “yuckiness” isn’t a word. Isn’t that surpising? “Mopey” is OK, but yuckiness? NO! DOES NOT COMPUTE! “Achey” isn’t either, but that one, I get.

– amy dangles her participles over big, yawning cliffs while hollering, “STAY BACK! I’LL DROP IT!!”

PS – (as if there aren’t enough footnotes going on) My ice just sighed at me. It was interesting.

Not that sort of fantasy.

Sheesh, you people. Get your mind out of the gutter.

I was reading one of my favorite blogs, Mimi Smartypants and she mentioned how she does kung fu kicks in the elevator when it is empty. Aside from her, of course. I guess it isn’t actually empty. It’s late. Sue me.

Anyway. I was thinking about how I don’t have any cool things like that, that I do, but tonight as I was sitting here musing on my return to work tomorrow (stayed home with a non-sick Ethan), I realized that I DO have office fantasies.

The guy in charge of our division/office/borg collective, is a very nice man that I’ve spoken with once, on my first day, when he was in his office when the HR lady was showing me around. He was very interested in me and seemed to know about my skills, which impressed and scared me. I wasn’t quite sure who HE was, but the huge office kind of tipped me off that he was probably the highest guy in the office.

Anyway. Back to the fantasy. Every day, many times a day, I trek from my cube to the kitchen, questing for tea bags and hot water to douse them with. Mr. InCharge’s office is not between my cube and the way to the kitchen, but it is in between the kitchen and the front desk, which leads to the hallway which has the door to the ladies room, and I often go through that door because of the said tea bags doused with hot water and sprinked with many many many packets of Equal (if aspartame causes tumors, tell my family I love them). So once every few days, I douse the tea bags, and trot out past the front door to answer nature’s call and then return to the kitchen to retrieve my mug and return to my desk.

So I pass Mr. Incharge’s office, and being the nice guy that he is, his door is usually open. sometimes he’s in there, and sometimes he’s not. Well, every time I pass I have this urge to just go in and plop down on his expansive sofa (as opposed to the chairs opposite his desk where I’m guessing folks usually sit) and just shoot the shit. “Hiya! How’s it going? Do anything interesting this weekend? Me? Oh just a little TV, some gardening, nothing special. OK, Just thought I’d say hi!” and pop up and leave.

It’s really not a big thing, just a fleeting thought that passes my mind when I pass Mr. Incharge’s office.

The other thing I’d like to do, and probably will when I can get away with it, is turn a cartwheel going down the hall. I’m always plotting on when and how I could do this. Once I thought to myself, the adrenaline rushing, “THIS IS IT! THERE’S NO ONE AROUND I COULD TOTALLY TURN A CARTWHEEL.” But then I chickened out with the thought that I haven’t done a cartwheel in years, and I should probably practice at home before taking my act on the road. I think I was also wearing a skirt, so that’d be a good reason not to.

Cartwheels remind me of pre-teen adolescence, back in those golden years when it was still ok to play with your friends, make up stories, act them out, pretend in the backyard, dress up your kittens.. before the abrupt change into teenagers when suddenly you don’t “play” anymore, you “hang out”, you paint your nails, you talk on the phone and you alternate between talking about boys, clothes and tonight’s math homework. My best friend and next door neighbor, Heidi and I did cartwheels all the time. I even had a “thing” where if I was ever in a crappy mood, I would do a cartwheel, and it would make me happy. I loved to do them in grocery stores just to shock people (this one continued on into adolescence though, shocking people doesn’t seem to grow immature with time. or does it?)

So I’m totally thinking about taking that Mr. Incharge thing out in case someone from work finds my blog one day. It’s not like it’s bad or anything, but still. Oh well.

– amy’s turnout was never good enough, but she always had “beautiful hand shape”, and good feet
” amy’s ballet teacher never forgave her for also taking gymnastics, despite the beautiful hand shape and the high arched foot

Hi! I have limited laptop battery life, so I’m just going to get right to it.

After my Weight Watchers meeting on Saturday morning, I stopped by Toys R Us to do some christmas shopping for Ethan and Jocelyn.

I thought I was doing pretty well.

Until I looked into my cart and realized that EVERYTHING was for Ethan. A little garage thingee with matchbox cars (the cars will go zooming down the ramps from the top level all the way down to the bottom. Wheeeee!), a Bob the Builder lego set (it got vetoed later), a Geotrax set. To my credit, Jocelyn is going to get a big ticket item in the form of a play kitchen, and I had the ticket for that one in the cart. But still! I just naturally gravitated toward all the boy car train truck toys and had NOTHING in there for Jocelyn. So I made another round of the store, this time keeping my eye out specifically for Jocelyn. After picking up a cute JoJo doll, I seriously was still coming up empty. The baby toys were really too young for her, and the little girl toys were too old. The amount of pink in the little girl section is just frightening. It nearly makes one need a pepto bismol, except that THOSE ARE ALSO PINK. You just can’t escape it. I really dislike pink. I’m good with purple, but pink should go crawl under a rock and die. Especially that Barbie doll package pink. Shudder.

Now, I know that Jocelyn also loves trains and trucks etc. Just an hour ago, she threw a FIT when Ethan wouldn’t let her play with HIS dump truck. She was very sad. Ethan does this thing where he gets a flashlight and goes “choo-choo”ing around the main level, sometimes with Jocelyn, Mommy or Daddy tailing along behind him as freight cars. Jocelyn LOVES this game, loves pretending to be a train. So I know that if I were to buy her the more boy-type toys, she would be totally in heaven with that. But that isn’t even the point. I used to be a girl! I totally had girlie toys! I was a Barbie queen, I loved my cabbage patch dolls, and anything that had “unicorn” or “pegasus” in the title I was totally enamored with. So WHEN DID I LOSE THE ABILITY TO SHOP FOR GIRL TOYS FOR MY DAUGHTER?

The answer is sad. I’ve never HAD the ability!! This is the first year that she’s a little girl, rather than a baby girl. Baby girls and baby boys can totally get the same sort of toys. Rattles, toy phones, activity tables, you name it, it’s unisex. So now I am facing my own ineptitude for the first time. I called James and ran down the current present tally, and lamented my lack of toy girliness. He reminded me that she had shown some interest in a My Little Pony once, and I rushed to the display and picked some of those out. Shew. Saved… At least until NEXT TIME! I guess it will be easier once she can really tell us what she wants, as well. Ethan makes no bones about what he wants. In fact, I made the mistake of leaving him in the same car WITH THE TOYS R US TOY EXTRAVAGANZA BROCHURE in it. He latched onto it Saturday and lost himself in it’s pages. We forgot to throw it away after getting home from the movies last night, so today we had to watch consumerism latch onto our boy and suck out his life essence.

I know I’m making a bigger deal out of this than I should, because (well, it’s kind of fun to make a big deal, but also,) I DO remember in MY childhood spending many a happy hour gazing over the Sears Christmas Catalog, folding back the corner of the pages that had the toys I HAD TO HAVE OR DIE AND THEREFORE PESTERED MY PARENTS TO NO END. Ahhh… childhood. *happy sigh*

So I think we’re pretty set for Christmas now, which is good because there’s no way I am going to venture into a mall or a store, let along a toy store after Thanksgiving. Anything else we need, well, that’s what the internet is for.

Saturday morning weigh-in:

So. Up like, 2/10s of a pound on my Saturday morning weigh-in.

scream.

Serves me right for dying and going to heaven at Perfect Pita.

I am really heading into a bad time of year. Thanksgiving is this week, for which we’re just staying at home and doing our own thing. Christmas holidays are coming as well, and good food always goes hand in hand during the holidays. This is when, last year, I really just tossed in the towel and lost all the success I had gained during the summer, and I really don’t want to do that again. Honestly, it’s clear to me that I have not really “committed” to this process yet. I want to kind of sail through it, fudge a lot, and still lose weight. when I called James (during the TRU phone call) and told him about my weigh-in, I said something like, “It’s really just time to buckle down, and” blah blah blah. To which he said, “You say that every week.” I SO wanted to bite his head off, but IT IS TRUE. I say that EVERY WEEK. I have NOT buckled down, and it is showing up on the scale.

In fact, I have to say, if it weren’t for this blog, I think I probalby would have been doing even worse than I am. Something about writing down all these things in my head, that normally would stay in my head, makes it so much clearer to me. Now, I really don’t want this space to just be all about this aspect of my life, but at the same time, I think I need to divulge more details in order to keep myself honest. I personally, don’t find that sort of a blog all that interesting, so I think I’ll just mull it over for a while before I start informing the Internet what I had for breakfast. I mean, how boring is that. I guess we’ll see.

I have 6 weeks until New Years, so I need to lose a little over 3 lbs a week in order to make my new years goal. Just a little perspective for me.

Enough of this. Blech.

So last night we went to dinner and Harry Potter with some friends. It was kind of amusing how at dinner, we kind of fell into boy conversation and girl conversation. I can’t remember what the girl conversation was, but the boys were going on about work. I’m not complaining or anything, I think they got bored with what we were discussing, but I just thought it was funny (amusing funny, not weird funny).

Harry Potter was good, but I must say and James emphatically agrees, that the new (yes I realize he’s not that new now, but to me, he’ll always be the new) Dumbledore just isn’t right. Oh how my heart longs for the REAL DUMBLEDORE. There were several scenes that just didn’t seem right, didn’t seem to be the way that Dumbledore really would act / react. I don’t blame the actor, if anything, that would be a director’s choice, and it just wasn’t right.

Overall, I enjoyed the movie, but it seemed to be lacking. I was trying to explain this to James on the way home, and this was the best analogy I could come up with.

I haven’t had one of these dreams in a long time, but have you ever had a dream about flying? I have, and they always started the same way. I would always trip, and in a very Douglas Adams sort of way, miss the ground, and start flying. The most vivid one I remember, I had in grade school, and had it several times. I am in a huge stadium, and am walking down the very steep stairs. No hand railings and it is very crowded. Well, someone bumps me from behind, and in order to not trip and fall down this huge flight of stadium stairs, I start running down the stairs. I go faster, and faster and I can’t stop, even when I get to the bottom, and suddenly I’m falling over the edge to the field below, when instead of hitting the ground, I just zoom by it and am flying. I usually am aware of the fact I’m dreaming now, and unlike some people, I usually never “stay” in a dream or affect how it goes (only very rarely, and they’re usually sex dreams. Ahem.) So it’s usually only a few minutes of ecstatic flying around, effortlessly and powered by my own mind, before I wake up. And I always just want to cry, because the experience of flying is so amazing, so thrilling, so ________, because new words need to be invented just to express how incredible it is, and it’s over. I’m back in real life, and there’s no flying. No flying! NO FLYING IN BASEBALL!

Well, that is how the world of Harry Potter feels to me. When I’m reading the books, there IS magic. There ARE wizards and witches, flying and quidditch, house elves and cleaning up spells (yeah like HOW COOL WOULD THAT BE), and then when I stop, I want to cry, because the magical fiction is just that: Fiction. Well, in my Harry Potter movie-going, that is how my grading criteria works. If it makes me thrill to my toes, and want to BE in this magical place, then it get’s my big thumbs up. It’s getting harder and harder to acheive this, because let’s face it, there’s a lot of stuff to cram into these movies.

So yes, I enjoyed it. And they had me for parts of the movie. But not for all of it. As always, the books are better (a universal truth? probably).

So you are all getting lucky in the fact that my laptop battery is about to run out. And so I must end this post! Adieu! And I hope there aren’t too many typos!

Tonight is Bunko night. Am I at Bunko night, you ask? No, I answer, I am not.

While bunko is a ton of fun, it just always seems that it goes about an hour after I’m ready to call it a night. This week I’ve been working on a project at work that had to be completed (ish, it’s still in QA) by today. Last night I was up til 12:30pm. I just felt like vegging out at home tonight, so I called a friend to sub for me at Bunko.

Tomorrow James and I are going out with another couple to have dinner at Coastal Flats and then see the new Harry Potter thrillah. The sitter comes at 6pm. Oooh I can’t wait. It’s going to be nice to go out by ourselves. Hopefully we can make this an at least once a month type dealio.

About two weeks ago, Jocelyn was throwing herself on the floor in a tantrum at every little thing that didn’t go her way. This week, it’s been an about face. SO happy, so delighted, so tickled to see you! and you! and that thing over there! and the kitty! KITTY! THOMAS! Pat! Pat! Pat! (patting her hands against her chubby little knees)

Last night was a school night for James, so it was me and the kids. I made some quick PBJs for dinner and after they’d eaten we went upstairs. We (OK, more like I) cleaned up their bedrooms and then I vacuumed them and the hallway. Took about 20 minutes, and then the three of us hung out in Ethan’s room and played with his train table. He got it for Christmas last year and while he played with it a lot, it seemed to come as the Whole! Train! Excitement! was coming down off the initial high. It also didn’t help that his little sister wasn’t even 1 at that point, and would come to the table and destroy whatever he built. So we moved it into his room, but honestly, he doesn’t play in his room that often. The last month or two though, we’ve come into his room and there’ll be something super cute set up. Like, the train tracks will be laid out in a simple circle or figure eight, but he’ll have put one of his books, opened like an upside down V, over the tracks for a home-made tunnel/mountain.

So we were in his room last night and I dug into my brain and actually remembered how to set up the tracks the way they were made to go (with only several pieces left over!) (it’s been a while!). The really amazing part was the realization that Jocelyn is now the right age to be able to play with them. She doesn’t immediately grab the tracks and fling them everywhere, instead she takes a train and tries to run it around the track, complete with “choo choo!” noises. The only trouble we had was when she took some of Ethan’s train (he had all 2,358 train cars hooked up to his engine. He could spare them.)

Sometimes it’s interesting to consider how having children has changed us. Or even just changed me. I like to think that there are some universal changes that happen to ALL parents, everywhere. Parents of the Internet, correct me if I’m wrong, but from those I’ve talked to, I think I’m right:

• all babies and toddlers seem cuter than they did before parenthood struck.This is an important one, because it actually does not take into account whether said child is actually BEING cute. They could be throwing a major tantrum in aisle nine of the grocery store, but they will still be cute. Instead of the feelings of annoyance and frustration, there’s a pang of empathy for the parent, commiseration, and even in the kid’s channeling of Satan Himself, the kid will still be cute. Pre parenthood, one thinks, “They should just drown these creatures so the rest of us can shop in peace.” Post-parenthood, one can’t help but think that the way their lower juts out and the chin trembles just before they launch into the new fit of bawling, and really, they are just pretty cute.
• stories, programs, commercials, snippets from the news, ANYTHING involving children in any sort of danger or trouble cannot be tolerated. This one may be just for mothers, I didn’t see james bawl during the CSI that had the baby die from being left in a car in 100 degree heat. that really happened recently here in the DC area. I cried in my car when I heard it. Sure, I was sad to hear these things before I became a mother, but now, it is heart breaking that such abominations can come to pass.

I’m tired of this list, so I think I’ll stop. But non-parents be forewarned. You baby doesn’t arrive with the warning label: “Having me will and probably already has altered the way you experience anything to do with children.” So I just consider it my act of public service for the day.

OK, a bit scattered of a post, but I’m a scattered kind of gal.

another list for you:

Things Ethan/Jocelyn have done recently that made me blink in surprise and/or smile:

• gotten up out of bed to turn off his closet light*
• informed me the next morning, when I asked him if he turned off his closet light, “Yes Mommy, I didn’t want to waste e-lim-ni-city (electricity) (!!!!! can you beleive he said this? the boy does listen after all!)
• Run after Jocelyn screaming, “I’m going to GET YOU!” while she ran away, screaming in delight
• When James brought some paper towels to the table at the end of dinnertime, said, “Hands, daddy!” and reached out, took the paper towels, and started to “wipe” her hands
• Jocelyn likes to hide behind the rocking chair in her room. It’s like a little ritual. I get her diaper and jammies on, she expresses her delight on having jammies on, “JAMMIES!!!!” and then as I stand up and get her story, she runs behind the chair and WAITS there until I say, “Where’s Jocelyn? Where could she be?” and then she runs out and grins at me, sparkling with excitement from head to toe.
• Sat on the couch where the cat’s tail drooped down from where she was sleeping. Brought her face closer and closer to the fuzzy tail, and then screeched with glee as the tail twitching from said cat tickled her face. Rinse, Repeat, – for 5 minutes.

* This summer we finally got him out of the habit of sleeping with his OVERHEAD light on. There was much wailing and gnashing of teeth (us and him) and the closet light stayed on, always, to keep any boogie monsters away (not that I would ever utter such a phrase and put it in his head. we’d never hear the end of it)

I need some tea. I think I’ll go get some.

since this is my blog and I will use it as I see fit, I’m using it as my own personal digital notepad. This post will probably also be edited as I add things to it I remember.
This is what I would like to try to accomplish this weekend:

• clean up my side of the garage so I can park in it again
• clean out pantry
• clean up my office and bedroom, vacuum
• clean all the bathrooms/wash kids bathroom mats
• groceries
• sit down and do some css mucking, pick greg’s brain

fun things to do this weekend:

• maybe take the kids to the local airport to watch planes land and take off. been promising something like that to ethan for a while
• spin around and around and around til we all fall down

I love to use words like this, especially in a highly techno weenie babble-talk conversation:

wonky
wussy
weird
flukey
funky
floo0hooey
goofy

“I was looking at the page on the dev server and somewhere in the programming it is duplicating the last two characters of the content include and reproducing them just outside of the css div content area. It’s totally wonky”

And then inform the person next to me, that it’s a technical term with a straight face.

Read how my husband had a spat with his online husband.