My designer slowed for a bit, but he is back in full swing lately. Oh, he makes me laugh. I especially love the looks we get from others when let him wear what he wants in public. Why fight over clothes?
He even dressed to impress at the rodeo. From runway to the alleyway, he’s quite the looker.
By the way, that’s a barn alley I’m referring to up there; he’s not a street walker.
I have a love-hate relationship with my husband taking photos. He tends to snap, snap, snap without putting a whole lot of thought into what he’s snapping (it’s rare I hand him my camera because he takes so many photos that I then have to sort through and delete).
Imagine my surprise when we’re hanging out as a family and he’s snap, snap, snapping away at me. I’m rarely the subject of the photos. “What are you doing?” I ask.
“Nothing.” Right. Then I get a string of text messages with these. Why? I don’t know. I guess eating a funnel cake is me in my natural element. That goes for any dessert, really.
“You might need to write about those.” Maybe I do.
I have to say, I like seeing me how he sees me. He loves me differently than anyone on this earth. He’s seen me at my worst and at my best. He can make me mad like no one else and the happiest girl on the planet (sometimes simultaneously). There’s no one else I’d rather do life with.
[End mush.]
Remember that time I was a teacher? A really good one at that? Remember that time I had a master’s degree with emphasis in adult education? With all that background, why would I choose to omit what I know from my marriage?
Lately, I live and die by my iPhone calendar. Everything is in there. If it’s not in there, it’s likely it won’t get done. When iOS7 came out, it took some getting used to, but we’re rollin’ now!
What does any of this have to do with any of this? I was expecting Mr. Gray to just jump on board my schedule train and move on down the line. I didn’t stop to think about the fact that a tiny dot on his smart phone might not be the way he best sees our schedule (the man would get rid of his iPhone in a heart beat if he could listen to podcasts and read the Bible easily through another avenue).
Much like love languages, being on the same page in your marriage requires thinking about how your spouse receives information. If you’re shoveling info out into the world without a receiver, you’re wasting your time. Not much point in that, huh? We haven’t found an effective compromise yet, but we’re working toward it. We’ll be trying a weekly sheet with the days’ plans on it in the very near future. How do you coordinate your schedule?
1. C3 was amazing–again. It’s always hard for me to unpack what I learn and how I change at things like that on this little ol’ blog, but I’ll try sometime.
2. There is no glory in busy. None. (Just preaching to myself here.)
3. I’m pretty sure Baby Gray is in cahoots with Hobby Lobby and their ploy to make Christmas a year-round thing. He is still watching Christmas movies and reading Christmas books. That’s a long way out of my window of comfort.
4. It is so cool to me every time I realize how much I love my friends’ kids. Even the ones I don’t see often or know well. I love them simply because they are an extension of their parent, who I love very much. I love how that works. (Should I try to fit the word love in a few more times?)
5. I’m still amazed with how much of my Timehop is filled with me doing the exact same thing on the exact same day. Case in point:
Maybe we need some spontaneity in our lives.
6. Watching Baby Gray pre-read brings me back to my teaching heart. I love watching little light bulbs come on in his brain!
7. One of the most disrespectful things I can think of is being late, and somehow I have become a late person. I hate it. I’m working to get back on track, but in the meantime, I’m despising the fact that I can’t get anywhere in a timely fashion these days. Please tell me it’s a season.
8. Mr. Gray’s alumni game was this weekend. He started. I missed it. I was late to the game. Yep. (See number seven for self-disgust.)
9. Every month I forget to turn off the auto-renewal for my iPad data plan, and every month I’m glad I have it. I guess it’s just meant to be.
10. Does it mean I’m officially old when my body is all out of whack every time I miss yoga?
Monday-Wednesday school lends itself to a lot of Monday holidays standing in the way of my son actually attending school on Mondays. That’s life. I get it. It’s a little more skewed for the three-year old around here, though.
Baby Gray: Is Maddie at school today?
Me: Nope. It’s President’s Day. No one is at school.
Baby Gray: Presents Day? Are the presents at home? When do I open them?
Me: (laughing) No, President’s Day. We don’t get presents for that.
‘Merica.
A few weeks ago at Target, Baby Gray picked out supplies to make valentines for his class. I found blank red cards and let him choose the rest (stickers, foam stickers, and pom poms). We worked on them a couple at a time over a period of time so that he didn’t get bored or frustrated with it.
On one hand, I missed the cute, creative part I enjoy. On the other, I didn’t have to worry about where anything went, how it looked, or what he stuck where because he had total creative control. My only job was to hot glue the pom poms.
I love the way they all turned out! He signed his name to each one and then loved picking out stickers and pom poms (we made those into a counting exercise).
I leave this morning for a few days, so I don’t get to go to his class party and enjoy a bunch of sticky three year olds. There’s always next time.
When I was little, my grandmother’s house always had cookies. Sugar cookies. Smashed with a fork before they were baked. In an old glass jar whose lid was never screwed on correctly on the first try. Crumbly sugar cookie perfection. She didn’t bake them, but they were there. Homemade. For years.
I tried to bake them myself a time or two, but they were never right. I haven’t tried in years. Partially because “I can’t” do it, partially because in the time I haven’t had one, the mystique in my head has grown. I have this cookie I distinctly remember, but will it be the same twenty years later? Will I ever really know I got it right since it’s been so long? Would I even know it was wrong? No one else would.
Now I’m on a mission. I’ll make them. They’ll be just right when I do.
I told a little lie Monday in the midst of a bit of truth. Here’s what I said:
1. I once cut the tip of my thumb almost completely off while trying to cut the label off a SpaghettiOs can with a butcher knife. There were tattoos under the label. Lots of blood and fourteen stitches later, I never got my tattoos.
2. One year, in less than a 6 month period, I hit three parked cars. Those are the only accidents I’ve ever claimed on insurance; we traded meat for body work on my car. I felt like such an idiot every time. My phone was not involved in any of them.
3. On a ski trip back in the day, I told Mr. Gray I wanted to go to the top of the mountain with him. (Yes, I’m as cautious when I ski as everything else I do.) We got off the lifts at the top, took some super cute photos at the peak, I freaked out, and we rode the lift back down the mountain.
Here’s what you said:
1. 3
2. 0
3. 3
One person said they were all true.
(You people sure don’t have much to say; can we work on that? Participation makes my day.)
Here’s the truth [the whole truth, and nothing but the truth]:
1. Ding! True.
2. EEEEhhhhh. Nope. Try it now. One year, in less than a 6 month period, I hit two parked cars. Those are the only accidents I’ve ever claimed on insurance; we traded meat for body work on my car. I felt like such an idiot every time. My phone was not involved in any of them.
3. Ding! True.
I’ve posted before about take-to-make preparation and packing. I’m most comfortable with my kitchen stuff, so I try to recreate that as much as possible, no matter where I am.
Last week, I was asked to make some breakfasts for an overnight event. I wanted to use the same recipes I used Christmas morning (here and here) because they were a huge hit and fed a lot of people easily. Both needed egg mixtures to be poured over, so I beat and mixed at home then needed a perfect transportation method for the mixture.
Enter everyone’s favorite:
Yep! Another use for a mason jar! They seal perfectly–no leaking, no spilling. It was the perfect way to transport the beaten eggs, give ’em a good shake before using, and pour over the top.
