August 19th, 2009
The walls feel like they are closing in here at Casa 007.
OH OH It’s the moving boxes tower of terror! And this isn’t even all of them. But I thought I would spare you random pictures of boxes stacked against bare walls. NOT very aesthetically pleasing.
Our closings are both on Friday and we move in that same day. We have boxes coming out of our ears and let me just tell you how fun it has been packing the house with a 22 month old trailing my every move.
She even wants to come to the bathroom with me so it’s become increasingly difficult to accomplish anything much while she is awake.
Here she is “helping” me. Can you find her amid the cardboard forest?
And here is a picture of our soon to be new house!
Just kidding. I don’t have any pictures of our new house.
Aw that wasn’t very nice of me was it?
But we have our final walk through this afternoon and I will take some pics and try and post them tomorrow before we clutter the pretty new house up by you know….moving in.
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August 11th, 2009
These are the days I know will fly by like the landscape passing by a speeding minivan. I am making many mistakes. I raise my voice too often, I am too quick to get irritated, I say no more than yes and I am often filled with mommy guilt at the end of the day.
But then we have moments when it all feels right.
Moments when my heart feels so full it might burst out of my chest.
Moments when no one is snatching a toy out of someone’s hands and no one is screaming because their world is coming to an end.
Well maybe the no screaming thing was taking it a little far. Let’s be real. Someone.is.always. screaming.
I guess that just comes with the territory.
And we do have peaceful moments occasionally.
A very special thank you to Elmo, Barney, Nemo and naptime for all the quiet moments.
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August 10th, 2009
We married young. And we did things a little backwards.
Our history is a very complicated story. A story that is no where NEAR finished. I know I need to continue to write the “The Truth Is” series. I left off on Part 5 and there is much more to write. But our story is an ongoing saga and it continues to be written every day.
We were married 7 years ago today. It was STEAMY outside. August in Tennessee is rarely anything but hot and humid. And I remember that day being happy. Surreal and anxious and HOT but happy.
I am married to my best friend. We haven’t made it easy on ourselves and we have certainly had many obstacles.
We have hurt each other and neither one of us have been perfect spouses. But we always know that we love each other. We always know that we love each other. I meant to repeat that.
Things I love about Mr.007:
When I hear him refer to me as “my wife” it makes my stomach flutter.
I love how passionate he is about music. It is a part of his soul and it makes him who he is.
His hair is turning gray. To me he gets more handsome every year.
He wants to be our daughters’ hero. His love for those girls makes my love for him run even deeper.
He is the grill MASTER. I have acquired an appreciation for good BBQ and all sorts of “man food” since he has come into my life. I now understand why he ordered ribs on our first date.
He keeps ALL cards and letters. He has cards from his mom from before I even met him stashed in a box in the closet.
He sees his family as my family and vice versa.
He doesn’t mind driving the minivan. He has never said a negative thing about our van “Magic”.
He never makes fun of me for naming our van “Magic”
He unloads the dishwasher. Enough said.
He has excellent taste in beer.
Over the years he has endured countless hours of House Hunters with very few complaints.
He knows how much I love being pregnant and nursing babies and he hasn’t cut me off…yet. I think he needs a son!
He is an awesome provider and an extremely hard worker.
And it might be cliche but I love him because he makes me laugh.
Dear Mr.007 ,
I love you “very much a lot” and I feel blessed to share my life with you. Our family is enriched because of you.
Love,
Mrs.007
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July 23rd, 2009
When someone is gone forever it is a shock to the system. Reality is warped. Surrealism sets in almost immediately. Then it starts to become normal. But you feel guilty about that. At least I do.
I want something tangible to remember. Something I can see everyday. A subtle reminder. Not something that will send me to the floor sobbing. Just something I can touch with my fingertips and admire. And it should make me smile….not cry. Well maybe it should make me cry sometimes. Because once in a while I want to cry. It makes me feel alive. But mostly I just want it to help me remember the good things. The beautiful things.
Butterflies make me think of freedom. Freedom from fear and anguish. Freedom from pain and from the unknown. Freedom to be carefree and happy. Blissful even.
And Dogwood trees. My Aunt Missy loved them.
**”There is a Christian legend of unknown origin that proclaims that the cross used to crucify Jesus was constructed of dogwood. As the story goes, during the time of Jesus, the dogwood was larger and stronger than it is today and was the largest tree in the area of Jerusalem. After his crucifixion, Jesus changed the plant to its current form: he shortened it and twisted its branches to assure an end to its use for the construction of crosses. He also transformed its inflorescence into a representation of the crucifixion itself, with the four white bracts cross-shaped, which represent the four corners of the cross, each bearing a rusty indentation as of a nail and the red stamens of the flower, represents Jesus’ crown of thorns, and the clustered red fruit represent his blood.
Even though His body was taken from this earth, His spirit remains and every spring we are blessed with a reminder of the events that occurred on that fateful weekend.
I still want to get a tattoo of a dogwood branch and a butterfly in honor and memory of my beautiful Aunt Missy. But in the meantime the painting above that a very close family friend painted for me will always bring me joy as well. I feel so blessed to have it hanging in my home.
It makes me happy…joyful…sad…hopeful…wonderful…and most of all it helps to remember her.
Thank you Delores. Thank you Grandma.
*http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dogwood
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July 20th, 2009
This morning my friend Elizabeth called to chat on her way to work. I was working on my first cup of coffee, the Wiggles were blaring annoyingly and I was just gearing my patience up for a day at home with my 21 month old and 8 yr old girls. As soon as I got on the phone it was as if some signal was transmitted to their brains that prompted them to start using their outside voices and running crazy around the house with the dog.
Mass chaos ensued. I tried to avoid yelling in Elizabeth’s ear. We were having a lovely impromptu conversation and I really wanted to proceed uninterrupted. I scolded and threatened.
And then out of desperation I hid in the bathroom. I grabbed my coffee and closed myself in. But they were being so loud that I couldn’t concentrate even while hiding in the loo. UGH I was getting mad at this point. I don’t have enough patience most days. It’s one of my greatest weaknesses.
So I walked into the kitchen, grabbed a wooden spoon and silently threatened the older culprit. She was the instigator. She was obviously in need of attention…and she didn’t care if it was the negative type. That was all it took. I saw the look of understanding in her eyes.
I motioned with the wooden spoon for her to take her little self upstairs. She nodded and climbed the stairs. Behold the power of the wooden spoon!
One day last week she felt the sting of the spoon on her bottom after an episode of incredibly bad behavior. I don’t spank often. I yell. (another weakness) I do time out and I take things away. But those things are losing their effect on Addison. Sometimes she will do something she knows will get her in trouble and accept the time out. Sometimes it appears she thinks it’s worth it.
So that is why I spanked her with a wooden spoon last week. Nothing else was working. I wasn’t mad and I made her go in my room and wait for me. I calmly walked in there and gave her 3 good swats on the bum. She sat up on my bed looked me straight in the face and yelled “I HATE YOU!!!”
OUCH. That one hurt.
I told her to stay in there until I came to get her and not to think about turning on the tv. I closed the door and another “I hate you” was hurled in my direction. That one hit the door and didn’t pierce me as deeply. I called my friend Aimee to talk about it and soothe the mommy guilt that was quickly setting in. She has an 9 year old son and is familiar with this age group and it’s challenges.
Addison needed something to jolt her. She needed a reminder that I am to be respected and obeyed and I am pretty sure the wooden spoon incident made an impact.
After we had both had some time apart I went in to talk to her about the actions that had caused the spanking in the first place. I also explained the definition of the word hate. I don’t think she realized how strong of a word she was using. She asked me if we could start over and apologized to me. We hugged and reassured each other that our love is unconditional.
She is a really good girl. She wants to behave and for the most part she does. Honestly parenting has been hard for me at every stage. I have read countless books and tried many methods. Which may be the root of the problem. She is my first child and earlier in her life I probably wasn’t as consistent as I could have been. But she is loved immeasurably and I know she feels that.
And I know she loves me because she helped me put away towels the next day. And I have a picture to prove it. Oh and I left it like this for days until we put the house on the market.
*I think spanking has it’s place in the world of discipline. And obviously it is a very controversial subject with a lot of parents. I respectfully disagree with people who believe spanking is wrong and somehow damages a child’s self esteem. If you are one of those people feel free to comment at will. But please be nice.
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July 11th, 2009
“Blonde Bather” by Pierre Auguste Renoir, 1881
It used to be considered beautiful to look like the woman in this work of art.
Now we are all supposed to look like this
Which is clearly a conspiracy to make me and millions of other women feel like big fat fatties.
I took a shower several hours ago and let my hair air dry. It looked raggedy so I brought out the hot rollers I haven’t used in years. Adam is out of town and I didn’t have any plans so I did it just for me. I also put on eyeliner, mascara and lipstick.
I used to do that all the time back when I couldn’t stop looking at myself in the mirror. I have never been an exceptional beauty. But I used to really like the way I looked. Of course I had my gripes about my physical appearance. I even used to think I was fat when I was a size 6.
Now I look back on what I used to look like and I can barely remember what if feels like to feel cute and sexy and attractive. I know becoming a mother changes our bodies. But after 2 pregnancies and nursing both my girls for a little over a year each I don’t even recognize myself anymore.
The other day I asked a friend if a DR would suck the fat out of my belly and put it into my butt because I have no butt and I have plenty of extra belly. I also told her that I wish I could just be “fat and happy”. Wouldn’t that be great? It’s just not possible for me. It affects every aspect of my life. It isn’t fun to shop, I feel the disapproval from “fit people” and I am just unhappy with my body.
I have a host of excuses.
I have PCOS and that doesn’t help at all plus I am just extra short. Like not even 5 feet tall short. Like I totally lied on my drivers license short. Like my inner theme song is “I wish I was a little bit taller” by Skee-Lo short.
Nobody WANTS to be 4′11. In our state you have to ride in a booster seat until you are 9 years old AND 4′9. And I am 4′11. Can you just picture me driving my kids around town in my minivan all while sitting in a booster seat? Yeah well I’m not far from it.
And I really hate that I have such a bad self image. People with low self esteem make me uncomfortable. So I really don’t want to be like that. All down on myself or overly self critical. But I have to admit it’s hard to stay confident. Really hard.
So why can’t I just be happy with the way I look? Or why can’t I just get up early and exercise more often? I guess I know the answer to my own question.
I CAN. I can love myself and I can be happy with the way I look. I can forget about what people think about me and I can focus on how freaking awesome I am.
Yeah. awesome. Here I am…me.
And I made these people….
Of course I can’t take all the credit for creating these beautiful children…Adam’s is pretty darn good looking and he has the most beautiful eyes.
Plus he wears really cool hats.
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July 8th, 2009
Trying to keep the house showroom ready is a task. When I wake up in the morning I immediately make up the beds. I walk around the house and make sure every toy is in it’s basket, that there are no stray crumbs on the counter or floor and I dry all the water droplets out of the sinks. When the phone rings my heart speeds up a little. If the voice on the other line wants to schedule a showing I immediately go into a state of hurried frenzy.
I vacuum the floors, make sure everything is perfect and pack up the kids and the dog. When we’ve been gone long enough I breath a sigh of relief and I am so happy to come home.
It’s very satisfying that the house is clean. Everything is in it’s place and everything is done. At that point I am actually kind of bored. That is the one nice thing about all of this. Until the next phone call.
When we go to bed at night I lie there awake. I try and think about other things but my mind is anxious. I think about the houses we have looked at, I wonder how long ours will be on the market. I wonder what school Addie will start 3rd grade. Chances are she will start one place and have to change schools after we move.
I know people do this all the time but it’s our first experience with selling and buying at the same time. The timing has to be perfect. I don’t want to get too excited about any particular house until someone makes an offer on ours. So we will have to be patient and wait.
Oh and have I mentioned I am not very good at being patient and waiting?
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July 1st, 2009
Hey there stranger!… Looking GOOD!
Yeah Hi remember me? I am Ashley and I used to post here once in a while…ya’ll remember that right? I used to write here ALL the time.
Then the 007’s got this great idea…we’ll call it let’s do a thousand home improvement projects and put our house on the market. So I haven’t had much time for the internet OR my Tivo. Which means I have a bunch of episodes of Kathy Griffin to watch, I haven’t written in forever, my inbox is overwhelming, and my Google reader is FULL of blogs to read. Blogs by actual bloggers who actually post content on their actual blog.
Wow what a concept.
It makes me feel a little out of sorts when I don’t write often. But with all of our projects and cleaning and packing it’s been hard to find the time.
Soon I hope to be able to write more often. Our house has a for sale sign in the front yard and tomorrow we will be officially on the market.
Now all I have to do is try to keep everything clean with an 8 yr old, a 21 month old, a 95 lb dog and 2 indoor/outdoor cats (one of which has kitty dreadlocks and likes to pull them out all over the house).
Ya’ll wish me luck on that.
We did pack up a TON of stuff and we rented a storage unit. Everything looks so nice and feels like everything has a place.
Why in the SAM HILL WORLD do I need all of that stuff? If I can pack it up and live without it for 6 months or so then why do we keep it around?
It’s made me realize that during this move I want to simplify. I have always been pretty good about cleaning out and getting rid of stuff but I still have needless crap in storage. So when we move I am going to be really careful about getting rid of things we are holding onto for no good reason.
So that’s what’s going on here…and I am doing a pretty good job of staying sane. Staying up too late and drinking a quart of coffee every morning. It’s all worth it.
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