On holiday from reason
Life is all about learning. This week, I learned that family vacations are not restful. "let's take the kids!" I pleaded. "They LOVE...
+Thursday, March 31, 2011
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Friday, March 25, 2011
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
man makes his plans, but I just chill
I hate making plans. It takes so much brain power and micro-analyzing, and then you have this ^%$ plan you're stuck with, and you...
+
Monday, March 21, 2011
walking with human puppies
After a very tense weekend of R2 pointing angrily at a photo of himself on a trampoline, the school bus came back. He...
+
Friday, March 18, 2011
Thursday, March 17, 2011
I Can Do Anything
In a rare excursion from the house today, I took the kids to the park. I learned a couple of things. A) the...
+
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
We're driving to Texas in a few days. It's March, so it's a little early for bluebonnets, but I'm still hopeful.
I'm terribly predictable, y'all. Point me toward Texas and I'll start writing poetry and posting achy songs about home. I'll say something about how time moves on and everyone changes and home will never be the same, ever again. Then I will drown my sorrows in Mexican Coke (the drink, haters) and queso until it's time to go to my other home that is not home again.
I'll pontificate on the beauty of the state, of the people, of the curious thing that is Texas pride. I'll talk about lasting friendships and family and the ache of belonging but not belonging.
I miss living in Texas, I miss being with family. At the same time, I am content here in this wonky house in this Midwestern city, with these crazy little babies.
I was the one in grade school who couldn't stay the night at the sleepover without breaking down from homesickness and calling my dad to come get me. Shoot, I probably did that in high school. One time, though, when I was 16, there was a flood and I was at the MOG's house and I called my dad and left a message that I'd just sleep over at Richy's mom's, because of the flood, you know. On the couch. Next thing I knew my dad was there, soaked to the skin but determined to rescue me from one last slumber party.
Anyway, if you would have asked me at any point in my life if I would be okay with living outside of Conroe, much less Texas, I would have said an emphatic Aw Heck No. But God moved us here and there's been so much grace. I don't feel like I'm fully myself, though. The part of me that is used to being a Yablonski, in the middle of the drama, is lacking. Although there's no shortage of drama around here...
just rambling here, trying to type and think while simultaneously vigorously patting a baby bottom, kissing bonked heads and trying to talk certain people into taking me to lunch.
The thing is, my little family is my home now, and that's good.
I'm terribly predictable, y'all. Point me toward Texas and I'll start writing poetry and posting achy songs about home. I'll say something about how time moves on and everyone changes and home will never be the same, ever again. Then I will drown my sorrows in Mexican Coke (the drink, haters) and queso until it's time to go to my other home that is not home again.
I'll pontificate on the beauty of the state, of the people, of the curious thing that is Texas pride. I'll talk about lasting friendships and family and the ache of belonging but not belonging.
I miss living in Texas, I miss being with family. At the same time, I am content here in this wonky house in this Midwestern city, with these crazy little babies.
I was the one in grade school who couldn't stay the night at the sleepover without breaking down from homesickness and calling my dad to come get me. Shoot, I probably did that in high school. One time, though, when I was 16, there was a flood and I was at the MOG's house and I called my dad and left a message that I'd just sleep over at Richy's mom's, because of the flood, you know. On the couch. Next thing I knew my dad was there, soaked to the skin but determined to rescue me from one last slumber party.
Anyway, if you would have asked me at any point in my life if I would be okay with living outside of Conroe, much less Texas, I would have said an emphatic Aw Heck No. But God moved us here and there's been so much grace. I don't feel like I'm fully myself, though. The part of me that is used to being a Yablonski, in the middle of the drama, is lacking. Although there's no shortage of drama around here...
just rambling here, trying to type and think while simultaneously vigorously patting a baby bottom, kissing bonked heads and trying to talk certain people into taking me to lunch.
The thing is, my little family is my home now, and that's good.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Spring fever. No, like FEVER.
I'm no history buff, but I can make a pretty safe hypothesis: I bet the Black Plague happened during a holiday. At least...
+
Thursday, March 10, 2011
infections, injury and nacho cheese
Today, the baby wouldn't stop crying, so I took him to the pediatrician. He had an ear infection, so she called in a...
+
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
punch to the throat, BOB CARLISLE
I dropped Brynn off for her first real playdate today, at least her first one without me or her brother. When I opened...
+
Monday, March 7, 2011
Admonition to the children of Clark
If the room is made dirty, who then shall clean it? For you say, "It was not I who dirtied the room!" Yea,...
+
Thursday, March 3, 2011
party on, Radiant
There are perks to having a rock band in your basement 3 hours a day. For one thing, it's harder to hear the...
+
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
feelin the burn
I like to turn over my new leafs on the first of months. It seems fitting, a shiny new month. Hey! I think....
+
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
