What a Life!

The Yarn Harlot recently published a post about how, when writing in a blog, it’s not like writing in a private journal; rather, it’s like speaking into a microphone in a really large room. It’s true – you never know who might come across your post and read what you’ve said.

I am not familiar with the specific incident that inspired such a post. But I have seen things like that crop up from time to time. In fact, I’ve experienced a few sticky situations myself – both online and in real life. Quite frankly, who hasn’t?

The question of what is and what isn’t appropriate to say on one’s blog is a legitimate one. Every time the topic comes up, for whatever reason, I do my own soul-searching, question my own judgments and reaffirm my own position on what I say and what I don’t say. In case you’re wondering what my personal guidelines are, here they are.

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Last night, I was sitting in the glider eating my supper (yes, sometimes we eat in the living room at our house). Joey was on the floor in front of me, watching intently. I’d put a bite of food in my mouth and chew it, and he would mimic my chewing motions. So I decided, it was time.

I got out the high-chair (which we’ve been using as an end-table on Steve’s side of the couch) and set him in it. Then I grabbed a ripe banana, peeled it, and gave it to Joey.

Boy! did he have fun with it! That banana was complete mush by the time he was done with it. He was very serious about it too. Hardly cracked a smile.

He never put the banana in his mouth like he does with his toys. But he did stick his fingers in his mouth more than once, and each time there was an interesting look on his face, like that doesn’t taste like my fingers usually taste. Food for thought, eh?

What a mess!

In an update to yesterday’s post…when Steve got home, he said traffic at the earlier hour was actually worse. Perhaps because he is driving just to the edge of town and everyone else has to go futher in so even though they don’t have to report for duty until 8:00, they need to be where he is when he’s trying to get there in time to report at 7:30? (Got all that?)

It’s funny, too, because every since I’ve known Steve, he’s talked about wishing that his hours were more like these new “summer hours.” If nothing else, he’d really like to come in early and then leave earlier and have more of an evening.

Now going to work earlier means getting up earlier which means going to bed earlier so don’t ask me to tell you why it all makes sense. I’m just saying is all.

But I did do better myself this morning. I made his lunch before I got in the shower. Steve still got to enjoy the normal morning “banter” between the boys. In fact, before he came upstairs, I had already given Ben one of those time-outs that instead of being one minute for every year of his age was more like two or three minutes for every year of his age. Quite frankly, sometimes it’s more about how mad he’s made me and how much time I need in order to calm down and be rational than it is about him. Children!

Steve has said that if the traffic continues to be worse in the morning, he’s going back to his old hours. So we shall see. At least it won’t be my inability to adapt that will bring an end to the glorious summer hours he was so excited about…

Last Friday, Steve’s boss called a department meeting. One of the things on the agenda was the proposal of keeping “summer hours” in their department. Summer hours meaning that everyone would come to work at 7:30 (instead of 8:00), leave at 5:00, and then leave early on Friday.

Yesterday the new hours became official.

This morning Steve got up a half hour earlier than usual. Which is fine, except that it cut into my personal quiet time that I get up early (as in, 5:00 a.m.) in order to have before everyone else gets up. Which was not to my liking.

I told him that he needed to shower first and then eat breakfast, thinking that I could still have some semblance of quiet time while he was downstairs. It was definitely what I would call “some semblance.”

And it set off my whole routine too. Usually he gets up at 6:45 and eats breakfast. I hop into the shower when he gets up, then get dressed and do my face and hair while he is downstairs showering. Then right before he comes upstairs to leave, I make his lunch.

Which should tell you what wasn’t done when he was ready to leave this morning.

The plan was that he would shower first and I would continue enjoying those few precious quiet moments to myself. Then I would jump in the shower when he came upstairs to eat breakfast. If the boys were up, he could watch them and I wouldn’t have to worry about them. Not only were both boys up, Joey was whining and Ben was dragging him around by the foot and hitting him on the head with his toys. Such a joyful morning at the Pageler’s.

So I got out of the shower and tried to enforce a peace treaty between the boys…and dry my hair…and get some clothes on…and put on some makeup. Then Steve was coming over to kiss me good-bye and I realized I hadn’t yet made him lunch. When on earth was I supposed to get that done? Ach!

Steve thinks this new routine is going to be great, leaving for work earlier and leaving work early Friday afternoon and everything.

I’m not so sure.

Am I going to have to start getting up at 4:30 a.m. in order to get my requisite peace-and-quiet time in? They say if mama’s not happy, nobody’s happy. And if I don’t get my time to myself, I ain’t happy. I’m not sure I want to start getting up at 4:30 a.m., though.

But maybe Steve coming home early on Friday afternoon could mean I could get some errands run without the boys. That’s always nice. I might be willing to sacrifice some of my alone time for that. I could go to Starbucks, go inside and order a coffee, then get a table and sit down and enjoy my coffee instead of having to order it at the drive through and enjoy it on the go.

We’ll have to see how this is going to work out. Until then, if you wonder how I’m feeling today, my answer shall be, “Inside out and backwards.”

Cheers!

Ben sitting on his potty, singing,

Tinkle, tinkle, little star,
How I wonder what you are.

I finally got around to uploading pictures…pictures way back from Memorial Day and our visit to the farm. These are some of the highlights – there are more over on flickr for your viewing pleasure.

When I say Joey does Army-style push-ups on his toes, I’m not kidding. This is part of his “army crawl” that he uses to get around, albeit rather slowly. He’s been doing a lot of rocking on his hands and knees so I’m sure he’ll be crawling for real soon.

Before we went up to the farm, we told Ben about how he would get to ride on a real tractor. He was all excited about it! Then Grandpa drove the tractor over to where we were standing and it was loud and noisy and he got scared.

Later on, after we’d been sitting out on the patio visiting for a while, Ben ventured back over to the tractor to check it out a little closer. You can see Steve at the edge of the picture looking on. We never did start it up again and take him for a ride, though. Maybe Uncle Con will have a tractor with a cab where you can start the tractor after everyone is safe inside the cab.

Steve’s family is known for not being photogenic. His grandma is no exception. Every time I take a picture of her, it seems, she has this hard, stern look on her face…even when she’s smiling.

So we were sitting around on the patio visiting and Joey had fallen asleep on Steve’s dad’s lap. I was shooting a couple pictures of him, and Steve’s grandma told me not to take pictures of her. I assured her that I was taking pictures of Joey and not her. Really, I was. But she was in the background, of course.

This is a picture I caught and will forever treasure because Steve’s grandma in the background looks like the grandma we know instead of the one we see in pictures.

Last week after mowing the lawn, I decided to wash the car. Ben sees the neighbor do this all the time, so he was very excited to get to wash the car himself.

I gave him a bucket and a sponge and set him to work. Clearly he is enjoying himself. We shall have to do this more often.

Finally, this weekend while I went to my knitting guild meeting, Steve got out the swimming pool and filled it for Ben.

You know you’re a redneck if…your child goes swimming wearing his underwear instead of swimming trunks. Not to worry – I bought him some real swimming trunks finally yesterday so it won’t happen again.

Note the alfalfa growing so nicely in my garden in the background.