Just making sure you all knew that. I've been given lots of lessons lately.
Happy happy weekend (MINE!),
Heather
The New Truth
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
So, the pesky little ticker on the left side of this blog tells me that I am running veeeery low on time to prepare for the 3M Half Marathon in January. (Go ahead and look. I'll wait. That's not a lot of time, right?)
I am both a perfectionist and a procrastinator, so in my world, I would prefer to do the perfect training schedule, in the perfect weather, with perfect form and amazing results. But, guess what? That's probably not going to happen. Guess what else? I realized yesterday that, regardless of these aspirational plans, I really just need to Get My Butt Out There.
So, Jack and I loaded up and Got Out There. As I wrestled with all of my notions about being incredibly buff and making some ridiculous time in the race, I huffed and puffed with the jogging stroller around our neighborhood.
And I decided this: I've set this goal. I am going to meet it. I can, and I will. It doesn't matter if it's perfect, because, you know what? When I do it, that's "perfect enough." So, I reminded myself to (expression that's jumped the shark alert) keep calm and carry on.
As I felt my spirits rising from making an awesome realization and good decision, I looked down to check on my passenger. And this is what I saw:
He didn't have a care in the world. It was a beautiful day. He was outside. He had already had some juice and taken his shoes off. He giggled when his momma ran fast, because he liked the breeze and the bumps. To him, it was perfect. And guess what? That made it perfect for me.
So, you know. Here I go.
I guess you knew that all along?
Heather
So, you know. Here I go.
I guess you knew that all along?
Heather
Monday, October 10, 2011
The other day, Jack and I went to run an "errand" after work. The "errand" may or may not have had to do with a present for Durel. No comment.
Anyway, after our errand, it was high time for a spot of dinner out. I considered our options for something toddler-friendly and delicious, and decided on La Madeleine. I hadn't been there in some time, and I am still totally agog that their fat-free caesar dressing is really fat-free.
We found a table, where Jack enjoyed his kids meal, which consisted of the remarkably un-French options of cheese pizza and a chocolate chip cookie, and I enjoyed my fat-free chicken caesar salad. We ate happily, stopping from time to time to smile at one another, and I felt my heart soar in a way that it has truly only known since I became a mother. Fun stuff, indeed.
The table next to us was occupied with a mother and her two sons, who (though I have a hard time with this) appeared to be about ten-ish. I thought to myself, "Oh, I can't believe Jack will be this age someday, but at least we can still have fun at La Mad!" I thought that, that is, until I saw the way she treated her sons.
I really can't think of another way to describe it than this: it seemed like she didn't *like* them. She snapped at them about what they had ordered, how much they had ordered, how quickly (or slowly) they were eating, and a plethora of other things. And, though I am the first to admit that there is no wrong quite like judging a person from their appearance, I will say that her appearance was such that I was surprised to hear her treating her sons with such disregard. I couldn't help myself but to eavesdrop.
They finished, and they left. (She was in no shortage of hurry, but did take the time to berate one son for having chocolate around his mouth after dessert and ordering him to go clean up TWICE before they could leave.) I turned to Jack and felt my heart surge again.
I am sorry for those boys. And I am sorry for whatever made that woman so angry, either that day, or that year, or in that lifetime. And I pledge, to the world, and my readers, and my family, and my son, to never behave in a way that will make a stranger think that I *don't like* my family. Shudder. That pledge doesn't even need to be said, I think, but knowing that it's the only thing I can do to combat the way my heart hurt after seeing that dinner scene, it's what I am choosing to say.
I still can't believe it's fat-free,
Heather
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Jack adores our dog, Pablo, with utter hero worship. It is not uncommon for the first morning sounds we hear on the monitor to go something like this:
We have two dogs. The other one is named Lucy. She happens to adore Jack with utter hero worship. To the extent that Jack is all about Pablo, this makes me feel a teeny tiny bit bad for Lucy. She only spends all day following Jack around, licking his face, nudging him if he cries, and laying outside of his room while he naps. That's all.
But this weekend, I was reminded that Jack is totally aware of Lucy and her awesomeness. Because, while he may wake up calling for his black and white hero, Pablo, who does he lay on the floor and high five with?
That's right. It's all good in our house.
High five and doggie treats to you all,
Heather
[rustle rustle]
Pablo!
Pablo!
Pablo...
[giggle]
[rustle rustle]
We have two dogs. The other one is named Lucy. She happens to adore Jack with utter hero worship. To the extent that Jack is all about Pablo, this makes me feel a teeny tiny bit bad for Lucy. She only spends all day following Jack around, licking his face, nudging him if he cries, and laying outside of his room while he naps. That's all.
But this weekend, I was reminded that Jack is totally aware of Lucy and her awesomeness. Because, while he may wake up calling for his black and white hero, Pablo, who does he lay on the floor and high five with?
That's right. It's all good in our house.
High five and doggie treats to you all,
Heather
Monday, October 3, 2011
Durel enjoys doing yard-work.
Well, I think he does, anyway. In our household, he takes care of all "outside" things. I take care of all "inside" things. Despite my big talk of starting an herb garden, we don't have an herb garden. Despite my big talk of helping in the yard, I have yet to get that done. So...yeah.
Anyway, back to Durel and his green thumbs. Super green. In fact, D's father, Jack's PapaDu, redefines passion for gardening, yard-work, and one man palm tree relocation. He doesn't just have a green thumb; he's green all the way up to his elbows. I've decided that green thumb-ness and yard workiness are genetic on Durel's side of the family.
Anyway, back to Durel and his green thumbs. Super green. In fact, D's father, Jack's PapaDu, redefines passion for gardening, yard-work, and one man palm tree relocation. He doesn't just have a green thumb; he's green all the way up to his elbows. I've decided that green thumb-ness and yard workiness are genetic on Durel's side of the family.
I, on the other hand, come from a place where poinsettias, Easter lilies, and all greenery received as a gift are presumed to be temporary. I know they're going to die under my care, so I just enjoy them while they're nice. Ironically, I am also completely opposed to silk flowers and fake trees. Don't like them at all. So, in order to have plants in my life, I either need to: (1) learn how to keep them alive; (2) budge on my no fake plant stance (unlikely), or (3) live with Durel. Boom. Done.
The other day, Durel decided to start Jack early.
 |
| Thanks for the shirt, Aunt K! |
Here's hoping you have some green thumbs in your life,
Heather
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Thursday, October 13, 2011
The New Truth
Just making sure you all knew that. I've been given lots of lessons lately.
Happy happy weekend (MINE!),
Heather
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Not a Care in the World
So, the pesky little ticker on the left side of this blog tells me that I am running veeeery low on time to prepare for the 3M Half Marathon in January. (Go ahead and look. I'll wait. That's not a lot of time, right?)
I am both a perfectionist and a procrastinator, so in my world, I would prefer to do the perfect training schedule, in the perfect weather, with perfect form and amazing results. But, guess what? That's probably not going to happen. Guess what else? I realized yesterday that, regardless of these aspirational plans, I really just need to Get My Butt Out There.
So, Jack and I loaded up and Got Out There. As I wrestled with all of my notions about being incredibly buff and making some ridiculous time in the race, I huffed and puffed with the jogging stroller around our neighborhood.
And I decided this: I've set this goal. I am going to meet it. I can, and I will. It doesn't matter if it's perfect, because, you know what? When I do it, that's "perfect enough." So, I reminded myself to (expression that's jumped the shark alert) keep calm and carry on.
As I felt my spirits rising from making an awesome realization and good decision, I looked down to check on my passenger. And this is what I saw:
He didn't have a care in the world. It was a beautiful day. He was outside. He had already had some juice and taken his shoes off. He giggled when his momma ran fast, because he liked the breeze and the bumps. To him, it was perfect. And guess what? That made it perfect for me.
So, you know. Here I go.
I guess you knew that all along?
Heather
So, you know. Here I go.
I guess you knew that all along?
Heather
Monday, October 10, 2011
Things That Make My Heart Hurt
The other day, Jack and I went to run an "errand" after work. The "errand" may or may not have had to do with a present for Durel. No comment.
Anyway, after our errand, it was high time for a spot of dinner out. I considered our options for something toddler-friendly and delicious, and decided on La Madeleine. I hadn't been there in some time, and I am still totally agog that their fat-free caesar dressing is really fat-free.
We found a table, where Jack enjoyed his kids meal, which consisted of the remarkably un-French options of cheese pizza and a chocolate chip cookie, and I enjoyed my fat-free chicken caesar salad. We ate happily, stopping from time to time to smile at one another, and I felt my heart soar in a way that it has truly only known since I became a mother. Fun stuff, indeed.
The table next to us was occupied with a mother and her two sons, who (though I have a hard time with this) appeared to be about ten-ish. I thought to myself, "Oh, I can't believe Jack will be this age someday, but at least we can still have fun at La Mad!" I thought that, that is, until I saw the way she treated her sons.
I really can't think of another way to describe it than this: it seemed like she didn't *like* them. She snapped at them about what they had ordered, how much they had ordered, how quickly (or slowly) they were eating, and a plethora of other things. And, though I am the first to admit that there is no wrong quite like judging a person from their appearance, I will say that her appearance was such that I was surprised to hear her treating her sons with such disregard. I couldn't help myself but to eavesdrop.
They finished, and they left. (She was in no shortage of hurry, but did take the time to berate one son for having chocolate around his mouth after dessert and ordering him to go clean up TWICE before they could leave.) I turned to Jack and felt my heart surge again.
I am sorry for those boys. And I am sorry for whatever made that woman so angry, either that day, or that year, or in that lifetime. And I pledge, to the world, and my readers, and my family, and my son, to never behave in a way that will make a stranger think that I *don't like* my family. Shudder. That pledge doesn't even need to be said, I think, but knowing that it's the only thing I can do to combat the way my heart hurt after seeing that dinner scene, it's what I am choosing to say.
I still can't believe it's fat-free,
Heather
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
High Five
Jack adores our dog, Pablo, with utter hero worship. It is not uncommon for the first morning sounds we hear on the monitor to go something like this:
We have two dogs. The other one is named Lucy. She happens to adore Jack with utter hero worship. To the extent that Jack is all about Pablo, this makes me feel a teeny tiny bit bad for Lucy. She only spends all day following Jack around, licking his face, nudging him if he cries, and laying outside of his room while he naps. That's all.
But this weekend, I was reminded that Jack is totally aware of Lucy and her awesomeness. Because, while he may wake up calling for his black and white hero, Pablo, who does he lay on the floor and high five with?
That's right. It's all good in our house.
High five and doggie treats to you all,
Heather
[rustle rustle]
Pablo!
Pablo!
Pablo...
[giggle]
[rustle rustle]
We have two dogs. The other one is named Lucy. She happens to adore Jack with utter hero worship. To the extent that Jack is all about Pablo, this makes me feel a teeny tiny bit bad for Lucy. She only spends all day following Jack around, licking his face, nudging him if he cries, and laying outside of his room while he naps. That's all.
But this weekend, I was reminded that Jack is totally aware of Lucy and her awesomeness. Because, while he may wake up calling for his black and white hero, Pablo, who does he lay on the floor and high five with?
That's right. It's all good in our house.
High five and doggie treats to you all,
Heather
Monday, October 3, 2011
Just Like Dad
Durel enjoys doing yard-work.
Well, I think he does, anyway. In our household, he takes care of all "outside" things. I take care of all "inside" things. Despite my big talk of starting an herb garden, we don't have an herb garden. Despite my big talk of helping in the yard, I have yet to get that done. So...yeah.
Anyway, back to Durel and his green thumbs. Super green. In fact, D's father, Jack's PapaDu, redefines passion for gardening, yard-work, and one man palm tree relocation. He doesn't just have a green thumb; he's green all the way up to his elbows. I've decided that green thumb-ness and yard workiness are genetic on Durel's side of the family.
Anyway, back to Durel and his green thumbs. Super green. In fact, D's father, Jack's PapaDu, redefines passion for gardening, yard-work, and one man palm tree relocation. He doesn't just have a green thumb; he's green all the way up to his elbows. I've decided that green thumb-ness and yard workiness are genetic on Durel's side of the family.
I, on the other hand, come from a place where poinsettias, Easter lilies, and all greenery received as a gift are presumed to be temporary. I know they're going to die under my care, so I just enjoy them while they're nice. Ironically, I am also completely opposed to silk flowers and fake trees. Don't like them at all. So, in order to have plants in my life, I either need to: (1) learn how to keep them alive; (2) budge on my no fake plant stance (unlikely), or (3) live with Durel. Boom. Done.
The other day, Durel decided to start Jack early.
|
| Thanks for the shirt, Aunt K! |
Here's hoping you have some green thumbs in your life,
Heather
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