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Archive for June, 2006

Yes, other than mommying. Yes, other than housekeeping. Yes, other than landscaping. Yes, other than doctoring. Enough already!

I actually have a job writing! Too cool, I know. Too weird, I know. Crazy, I KNOW! Will you just let me tell you about it? 😉

Starting tomorrow (July 1, 2006), I will be co-authoring the blog Play Library with Dr. Hsien-Hsien Lei. Link here to see my intro from Hsien!

I am very excited to be joining Hsien in this fun journey chatting about kids’ toys, games, books, and just fun stuff to do! Thank you for coming here to read my stories so that Hsien knew I wrote things others actually cared to read about! 🙂

By the way, I think mentioning that I’m writing with a doctor makes me sound smarter. Whaddya think? Yeah, I know….you know better.

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Well, we have fulfilled our role in the circle of life, or at least of communicable illness. About five of the eight or so kids that we saw in our “we don’t know it yet but we’re contagious” stage now have some signs of the chicken pox. You know us, we love to share…

The baby (yes, I am still calling him that) is now showing some evidence of the yummy spots himself, which means at least another week of no daytime outings here. I’m not really a get-up-and-go kinda girl anyway, but two weeks at home is going to make even me a little stir crazy, I think.

So, if you’ve already had the virus, come on over and chat. I could use the adult conversation. I think at least this site is pox-free. 🙂

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…is “When did I make this chicken?”

It’s the one that starts with me needing to fix a meal, and opening the “figrator” (Jake’s translation) door to see what’s inside. And then I see it, a container of cooked chicken.

The first part of the game isn’t too hard, which is figuring out what to make. There’s lots I can do with cooked chicken. Chicken salad, chicken enchiladas, chicken casserole, and the list goes on…. The tricky part of the game is when I realize that I don’t remember when exactly I cooked the chicken, and whether it’s beyond being a salvageable leftover.

Today I’m going with, “It’s still good enough.” Make sure you hear from me here in the next day or so to confirm that I was right.

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It’s an absolutely gorgeous time of year here in the Midwest. The sun is shining most of the time, and we’re pretty confident that it’s not gonna snow any time soon (though you never can be TOO sure). The kids are just about through the chicken pox, and it’s finally time to get them back outside playing. The kids….playing. That’s the goal, right? For the kids to go out and play. Not for Mommy to go out and entertain the kids.

I promised in my very first post that I would do my best to be honest. Here goes……I don’t like to play.

Whew…..I said it. I don’t like to play. I like to read. I like to cook. I like to scrapbook. I like to dance. I like to take walks. And I like to do all of those things with my kids. But I don’t like to play.

Does that make me a bad mom? I’m not sure of the answer. Kids like to play. I have kids. I should like to play with them, shouldn’t I? Maybe I’m broken.

The truth is, though, that I don’t ever remember liking to play. Maybe my mom could tell you differently (although she claims to have forgotten all these details. Ginkgo biloba, mom.). But I remember friends wanting to go out and play Barbies and play house and whatever, and I could never really get excited for it. Now, set me up with a good book, and I’d be lost all day in it.

I haven’t changed much there. I went outside with the kids today, and brought out a chair and a book. The kids (at least the older one) wanted to play tag. She kept coming to me and tagging and saying, “You’re it!” I don’t want to be it.

“Go tag your brother. He can be it. He likes running.” Why do you think I had him, anyway? (Kidding.)

I honestly would rather bake a cake with the kids than play. I’d rather sit and read to/with them for an hour than play. I’d rather dance around the living room with them than play. And some times I do.

And some times I just suck it up and play because I know they need it. But not usually.

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It’s an absolutely gorgeous time of year here in the Midwest. The sun is shining most of the time, and we’re pretty confident that it’s not gonna snow any time soon (though you never can be TOO sure). The kids are just about through the chicken pox, and it’s finally time to get them back outside playing. The kids….playing. That’s the goal, right? For the kids to go out and play. Not for Mommy to go out and entertain the kids.

I promised in my very first post that I would do my best to be honest. Here goes……I don’t like to play.

Whew…..I said it. I don’t like to play. I like to read. I like to cook. I like to scrapbook. I like to dance. I like to take walks. And I like to do all of those things with my kids. But I don’t like to play.

Does that make me a bad mom? I’m not sure of the answer. Kids like to play. I have kids. I should like to play with them, shouldn’t I? Maybe I’m broken.

The truth is, though, that I don’t ever remember liking to play. Maybe my mom could tell you differently (although she claims to have forgotten all these details. Ginkgo biloba, mom.). But I remember friends wanting to go out and play Barbies and play house and whatever, and I could never really get excited for it. Now, set me up with a good book, and I’d be lost all day in it.

I haven’t changed much there. I went outside with the kids today, and brought out a chair and a book. The kids (at least the older one) wanted to play tag. She kept coming to me and tagging and saying, “You’re it!” I don’t want to be it.

“Go tag your brother. He can be it. He likes running.” Why do you think I had him, anyway? (Kidding.)

I honestly would rather bake a cake with the kids than play. I’d rather sit and read to/with them for an hour than play. I’d rather dance around the living room with them than play. And some times I do.

And some times I just suck it up and play because I know they need it. But not usually.

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So, at lunch, Samantha makes her royal declaration…

“I get to be the princess. And, you, Daddy, can be the king. Mommy gets to be the queen, and Luke is the prince. I guess that means Jake is the mean ogre.”

How very pompous of her, which would fit the reputation of some princesses! However, not the character I want for my little princess. But I was proud of the use of the word “ogre.”

Fortunately for Jake, Daddy had his back. “No, Samantha, Jake is not the mean ogre. That hurts his feelings, and mine.” (Not to mention the poor ogre’s mommy!) “There can be two princes.” He looks at me slyly, “One, two princes…” He knows I love the song by the Spin DoctorsPocket Full of Kryptonite. Now it’s in my head…that’s what I said now.

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Best seat in the house…

Why is the best seat in the house always where I’m sitting? Is it because I sit in the cushiest chair? No. Is it because I sit in the prettiest chair? No. Is it because I sit in the funnest chair? No.

The best seat in the house is always wherever I’m sitting because the best seat in the house is apparently my lap. And if I’m sitting, it’s where every kid wants to be. Well, it’s where at least one kids wants to be, which makes it where the others want to be as well. (“Why is it his turn now? When is it my turn to sit in your lap? How come he always gets to sit there first?”)

I should enjoy it while it lasts. I know that in a few years, I’ll be begging for someone to come sit with Mommy.

It’s good to be wanted. Or at least bickered over. 🙂

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