Predictably Predictable

When you get so forgetful that you even forget that you have forgotten things...perhaps you start to look a little like this.

First, you forget to pay your rent. Yes. Rent. That's what happens when you've had a husband pay the mortgage forever, and you forget that, like, it costs money to live places.

Then, when you're driving to meet your landlord to pay the rent, you realize that you forgot your friend's birthday. Yesterday.

That night, on your way to visit your out-of-town friend in a neighboring county, you see your gas light go on. On the one stretch of Interstate 5 that is dedicated to the military. For 19 miles. You drive faster because you're pretty sure that even though this uses gas less efficiently, the time saved on heart attack symptoms may just save your life.

And when things get reeeeally stressful, there's really just one more thing to do: rearrange the furniture. Then, put it back in exactly the same place. Because? It turns out that "L" shaped sofas really don't work out so well in creative juxtapositions with walls and tables.

Clearly, it is Report Card time. And clearly, I have not done them at all. Not one. How can you tell? Because I'm finally blogging again. And if there's one thing I'm good at, it's procrastinating. And forgetting. If only I could forget to procrastinate.

Crapathetic

Remember those days when just jamie was a SAHM, and she actually did a little thing called writing?  Yeah, me neither.

On the brink of summer break (not really, but frick, it's closer than Christmas) I long for moments filled with swimming and splashing, warm nights, outdoor concerts, pajama days, reading, planning at least one meal per week, not packing lunches, beach days, birthday parties, and even the dang gym.  Perhaps then I'll be able to do a bit more than throw a picture up on the blog.

But...until then...

I'm so damn tired.  

If Only...

The thing is... I can post happy vacation photos but...

But...

Maybe it's just that coming home from a trip on a Sunday night and going to work on a Monday morning don't really go well together.

Or maybe it's that I sit in a house with piles of mail and laundry and papers to be graded and lunches to pack and photos to organize and kids to play with and blogs to read and I just feel overwhelmed.

Maybe it's that I haven't been entirely honest with everyone around me and it's starting to get to me, or that I have been entirely honest with those around me and it's starting to get to me.

Maybe it's just a silent ache within...because really, I know, I know what I want.

If only...

Humpty Dumpty

I've been a cracked egg.  

I tried a new blog.

It just didn't fit.

So I'm back.

Go figure.

We'll see if "all the king's horses, and all the king's men" can put just jamie together again.  But in the meantime, I'm coming back home, to blogspot.  

I've been holding back a lot of feelings, trying not to share them here.  But damn, you people are one supportive group of listeners.  It's like a big ol' "I hear ya" fest, and for that I am grateful.  So, really, I started a new, NEW blog.  A place to sort, and mend, and figure.  I might come clean with that one, but for now, I just need a place to get it out.  

I'm sticking with what I love.  Reading your blogs.  Writing.  Cuddling with the kids (they're really into cuddling these days, what a gift).   Drinking wine.  Hanging.  Napping.  Staying in touch.  Listening.  Sipping coffee.  Going to church.  Go to the therapist.  Going to dinner with the family.  Finding comfort in friends.  Taking pictures.  

Speaking of friends.  Ya'll are some good listeners.  There's this one.  And this one.  And this one.  And this one.  And of course, this one.  Thank you.  Nuff said.

This woman is making some discoveries about herself.  Always a journey as I am "choosing my own..." happy ending.

50 Is The New 40 and 32 is the New ... Where Was I?

Sometimes I worry.  Like about myself.  

I shouldn't do that.  In fact I know I shouldn't do that because I watched The Secret again today.  Negative energy creates more negative energy.  So I gotta get off that.

But really?  Exhibit A:

I was wrapping this gift for my husband today:

When it occurred to me that, it looked vaguely familiar.

Kind of like the one hanging in OUR CLOSET ALREADY?

He also reminded me that upon noticing his "Lucky" jeans yesterday, I said, "Hey, when did you get those?  I like those jeans."  

Apparently, not only has he had them for months, but I also asked him the exact same question, in the exact same way a few weeks ago.  No recollection.

I commented on a blog post recently.  A birthday post.  I truly thought, Wow Happy Birthday Friend.  Then, I went back today, and commented on the same post, never knowing I had seen it before, let alone commented.

I dunno.  I remember strange things, dreams for example, with such vivid color and clarity.

Then, other days...

Exhibit, what am I on, Exhibit D?  Patrick and I had a night out recently, last weekend I think.  We checked into a hotel.  The Bourne Ultimatum was on.  I plopped on the bed and was enthralled with one of my favorite series.  I LOVE these movies.

Only, this time...I couldn't remember it.  None of it.  Not just the ending.  But the parts in between.  "We saw this together," Patrick told me.  I kept thinking my memory would be jarred by (hello?) MATT DAMON!!!  But... nothin'.

So.  I dunno.  I'm hoping 33 brings my memory back, 'cause 32 is kind of freaking me out.  

My Dog Ate My Homework

I have to do it.  I've tried not to.  I've made excuses.

"I'll get to them."

"I just need one, quiet night alone."

"I can't possibly miss out."

And now...my Google Reader is at 373.

So I'm out of excuses.  I must do the unthinkable, and for that, I am sorry.

I am... marking "all as read."

Hopefully I'll keep up, from now on.  Hopefully.  Please drop me a note if you've had BIG news. 

****************************

P.S.  My "shoe", you know, from Tiny?  I got them back.  I proudly strutted around in my old faves, and then...the damn things broke again.

Freakin' Tiny.  

So You Think You Can Blog

As you know, I'm back to the land of full-time teacher.  It's a ride much like the ride of a parent.  I wipe tears (6 times today), apply band-aids, (2 times today), tie shoes (okay, actually I have a rule that I don't tie shoes ... because ... euughhh, do you know where those things have been dragged?), and of course impart wisdom on the young.  It's up, it's down, it's fast and slow.  But through it all those sweet little boys and girls remind me that it's all for the right reasons.  And I have my favorites.  I know, we're not supposed to but come on, if you saw that chocolatey skin and big eyes looking up at you, you'd melt too.

One quick teacher story:  Today I told a boy that his number was number nineteen.  "No," he told me, "my number is a 1 and a 9."  

Aww...

So here's the crappy thing.  After finally getting my email/iPhone working again, my baby, my sweet, sweet Nikon baby has gone and died on me.  (Sniff.)  I can't help but notice the coincidence between my lovey Nikon's un-timely departure and the Husband getting his hands on it for the uber-excellent first day of school shots.  And you know, I'm finding it really difficult to blog without some good, photographic evidence to support my stories.

So, I'll just have to go to the archives...

(which reminds me, where did my little babies go?)

She goes from being walked...

...to doing the walking.

I Kid You Not

I'm all for saving gas and eco-friendly transportation and all.  So when I saw a guy in a suit cruising down Interstate 5 on a motorcycle, black slacks flapping in the wind, shined up pointy toed wing-tips, and black biker gloves I thought, huh, okay, good for you worker dude.  After all, you're wearing a helmet and driving the speed limit.  

Worker dude changed lanes to the left, once, then twice until he was in the fast lane.  With him just behind me on the left, I couldn't help but glance in my mirrors at the sight of him.  His motorcycle was hardly a "chopper," more a dirt bike on the freeway.  His collared shirt peeked through the top of his "biker jacket," and he had a certain awkward posture as he hunched over his bike.  Poor schlep, I thought.  You should be driving an Accord or another acceptable mid-size sedan.

That's when it happened.

Worker dude went to his hip to remove something.  Wha?  Could it be?  Is he actually?  Yup, there was no denying the near-patent thumb-flipping motion of reading his Blackbery, while driving a motorcycle, in the fast lane, on the 5 freeway, oh yeah for three entire miles!  No joke.

I swear I was just about to take a picture of him.  My camera was on the passenger seat, in perfect reach.  But I thought better of being a hypocrite of using such technology while, oh I dunno, DRIVING.  You'll just have to take my word for it.

Do You Ever Feel Like Your Ass Is Stuck In A Bucket?

My absence can be explained by this, my ass is stuck in a bucket.  I'm walking around boxes to get to more boxes to pack new boxes only to forget what's in said boxes.  You see, we've moved so many times this year that I thought it would be okay to save our old boxes.  Cool.  Until the husband throws the VERY MOST FRAGILE-EST of things on the floor because the box read "Laundry Supplies" (awfully light for laundry supplies, ya think?)  My bad.  But I'm just sick of moving, so I'm doing a crap-ass job.  

We've closed escrow on our new home.  The moving journey will soon be over.  The marital stress of putting the brakes on our almost new life in Colorado was huge.  But now, the peace my husband and I have found in this decision is better than marriage counseling.   Getting through our recent stress is like yoga, a massage, zen, and a glass of wine all rolled up, yo-ma-zen-wine.  And quite frankly, who doesn't need more yomazenwine in their life?  It's not about the house, but more about what it means for our family.

But before we clang glasses in final celebration, we have packing and tripping over boxes for 9 more days.  You know when you know that you're going on a vacation, so you start saving up all of your cute clothes, because you want them to be clean for the trip?  So you wear all of your dorky clothes that you just know won't be coming along on vacation.  That's where we are, but instead of clothes, it's random food in the pantry/freezer, toys for the kids, toiletries, etc..  I need to pack everything, but in phases.  So the in between phase feels sort of like walking around with a bucket on my ass.  You know the feeling, right?

Bragging Brings Bad Karma

Lesson learned.  Well, this time at least.  I got all braggy about going on a trip sans kids.  And I got all braggy about floating in a lazy river with drinks in hand.  And I got all braggy about getting the house we wanted.  

Well thanks a lot MISTER Karma, because now I can't brag anymore, at least not verbally.  'Cause I seem to have a bad case of effing fever blisters on my effing bottom lip that make it effing miserable to eat, nag, brag, talk, or sip a salted margarita glass.  It looks a little something like this, but not on my tush.  It looks like lip-injection gone bad.  

Fuckity fuck it hurts.  So, no vacation pictures.  Just me all complaining today.  With lots of meds.  And a little sympathy.  A little.    

So, it turns out you're not supposed to be in the sun when shit like this gets on your lip.  Thanks Arizona sunshine.  My tan lines are digging you, my lip, notsomuch.

Gone Fishin'

Hello. My name is Jamie and I'm a Bloga-holic.

Well, you know I have a wee bit of a blogging problem when I'm sitting in the hotel room on a GORGEOUS day checking blogs. Actually, I'm just letting my breakfast settle, and last night's wine.

Quick recap/highlights of the trip so far.

* Sat next to youngish, normalish, cutish, looking guy on plane. I'm in middle seat so my hubby could have the aisle. Guess what said youngish not so cute-anymore-guy does on flight? PUKES in the BARF bag? Right.Next.To.Me. Are you kidding me? I desperately try to make eye contact with a flight attendant to say HELP! But Flight attendant must think I just have an eye twitch or that I'm flirting with her starchy shirt and feathered bangs. Damn it. Thank God it was a 45 minute flight because I was feeling pretty green after getting out of there.

* Let's just say cold beer and drinks with umbrellas ... as I FLOAT around the LAZY RIVER. Aw-yeah! Need I say more?

* My kids don't miss me. Tatum is in HEAVEN getting all doted on by her Nana (and Pop) and Aunt Linda. Chase has been coined "Barnacle Boy" because he's so attached to Gran. The thing is ... I miss them.

It's funny how we fantasize about getting nights alone from our kids. Then I sit at the pool and spy on the other pre-schoolers wishing I could give mine a cuddle.

Okay, back to vacation mode....the sun and cocktails beckon (like that happens just on vacation).

Meme Rhymes with Theme

(It took me a while to learn that.  I thought it was a me-me, because isn't everything all about ME?  No.  Oh.  Damn-it.  Well, it is here.)

Lori at Teacher Turned Mommy tagged me with this Meme.  The thing is, I suck at memes.  

Here are the rules (WARNING:  I'm not good at playing by the rules.)

a.  Link the person who tagged you.  (I did that.)

b.  Post the rules on your blog. (I'm two for two now.)

c.  Write six random things about yourself. (This is where the rules get foggy.)

d.  Tag six random people at the end of your post by linking to their blogs.   (How random?  Like, totally random, with no thought on my part at all.... okay.)

e.  Let each person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment at their blog.  (No can do.)

f.  Let your tagger know when your entry is up.  (What do you take me for?  A total slacker?)

Here are SIX places that I've been blessed enough to visit.  Although I'm all for bragging, this isn't to brag, just to document.  Before my Mommy brain cells are all used up.  And I forget.  

Where was I?

Paris, France

London, England

Florence, Italy

Venice, Italy

Rome, Italy

(Orange hair?  WTF?)

New York, NY

Munich, Germany (That's my cute Mom)

(I'm not that skinny.  The beers were just freakishly proportioned.)

(Pretzels and Beers)

Amsterdam, Holland

And now I'm tagging 6 "random" people:  If your name is Susan, Martha, Hannah, George, Adele, or Ian I tag you.  (Totally random.  I don't think I know them.  In fact, I know I don't.  But, it's a good way to get to know you if that's your name.)

Lori also bestowed this beauty on my.  Although I'm totally unworthy because I just screwed up your meme.  But thank you.  Check Lori out.  She is a Teacher turned Mommy just like me.  Her son is adorable.  She does digital scrap-booking.  She's about to pop out baby boy #2.  And she's great at leaving comments.  

I love this flowery award because it proclaims friendship in this cyber world.  I've come to LOVE all of you in this blog land.  So again, I'm cheating on the rules.  If you and I read one another's blog (that's a lot of you lovely people out there), I give this Blog Friend Award to you.  Yes, YOU!  Take it.  Share it.

And CC over at If I Only Had SuperPowers gave this sweet one to me.  The story goes that it's a "laugh, cry, think, or sigh" award.  CC says I make her laugh.  Are you good in math?  That means I got one quarter of this award.  THAT'S sayin' something.  What's it saying?  Please check out CC for her expertise in Speech and Language, her What Works For Me ideas, and her general KICK-A** approach at helping the world one teaching tip at a time.  I think she really does have Superpowers!

I'm passing along this one to Burgh Baby's Mom because I have a blog crush on her.  She was just on her local news bragging about how great her blog was, drumming up AdSense and all, so I figure I'd help her out.  Nah, she really does make me "laugh, cry, think, or sigh," especially when she puts those creepy dolls on her site.

Say Hello To My Little Friend

So I woke up to a gorgeous mess compliments of my dog.  I'll spare you the details... Let's just say, I dropped the kids off at pre-school and raced to Target as fast as I could before the nastiness had a chance to settle into every fiber of the carpet.  

THIS is my new BFF:  The Spot Bot.  I'm hooked.  I may just give up blogging and offer to come watch my little spot robot clean people's carpets.  She's so sleek, and pretty, and, fun to play with, and ... okay, expensive.  But come on, I have two kids and a dog.  This thing will get more workouts than our marriage bed.  (Sorry, honey.)

So I'm having one of those days where Spring Cleaning has kicked in.  I *must* clean the carpets.  And while I'm at it, the toys need re-organizing (again).  And the dishes need to be put away.  The laundry needs putting away (yes, still).  My purse has jelly beans hanging around on the bottom.  My car has Starbucks wrappers stashed in every corner and pocket.  I don't know if I can get it all done.  But I'm starting by closing my laptop, inflating the bouncy house for the kids, and rolling up my sleeves.

My Google Reader is exploding.  I promise to catch up tonight.  Until then, wish me luck.  And if you ever need a nasty spot removed on your carpet, I make house calls.  

Chores

The dishes are piling up.

The laundry begs to be put away.

There are messages to return.

The dog really wants a good walk.

Toothpaste streaks the sinks.

I really need to vacuum.

Somehow, I think those things will wait.  

When In Doubt...

Show pictures of the kids.

A Matter of Semantics

I'm a bit of a grammar snob.  There are a few words that just freak my freak out when I hear them.  What?  Freak your freak out is one for you.  Well, write it in your own damn blog.  :)

The following are like nails on a chalkboard to me:

*** Can you take a "pitcher" of us?

A what?

This?

This?

Oh, a PIC-TURE. 

 

*** We drove "acrost" the country?

You what?  

***  I love all kinds of chocolate, "expecially" dark chocolate.

Ex-what?

***  As in, Bush calls for a development of more "nucular" power.

Enough Said.

***   "For all intensive purposes"

Uh huh.  So the purpose is intensive.  Mmm-hmmm.  Did you mean for all intents and purposes?  Please say yes.  

Try being married to me.  I'm no fun.

Oh, but here are some new words that I LOVE using as verbs.  It may drive you crazy, but I'm all about these:

***  I Googled it.  As in googling an ex-lover.

***  To get an idea of the value of my home, I Zillowed it.

***  Your ass just got Punk'd.

***  I'm Blogging this.

For extra credit, use all of my favorite words in one brilliant sentence.

A New Look

Yippee!  My blog has a new look.  It was time, but being a bit technically-challenged I relied on my Mom at This is Trish's Blog.  Leave it to a Graphic Designer to lend a hand in that area (thanks Mom).  I'm still going to tweak a couple of things, like maybe actually using my own picture for my profile, but this is a good start.

While I'm talking about myself, I'll say some thanks to Misty for giving me a cool new award.  Again, yippee!

In the nature of giving, I pass this award along to:

Whiskey In My Sippy Cup:  It's crude.  It's hilarious.  It's real.

Trish at My Little Drummer Boys:  A shout-out to another twin Mommy.

Brittany at 4 Little Men:  She has 4 Boys, and is pregnant with identical twins.  Wow.  Yup. 

Check them out.  

A Conundrum

Does anyone actually read blogs on the weekends?  

See, that's a trick question because if you're reading this, then, well...

If a tree falls in the forest and no one is there to blog about it, did it really fall?

Peachy at the Beachy

Okay, so this is the kind of day that makes staying in San Diego a great idea (thank you very much).  

We ran at the beach...

...soaked up some Vitamin D...

...did Dr. Seuss arts and crafts...

...and played with good friends.

Really, weekends like these are hard to beat.  Well, almost.  

After all the fun and joy, *this* has finally come my way:

Ugh.  

Random Rainy Day Photo