Five Things on Friday - Parties To Which I Was Late

I am a geek of the highest order (where the word "geek" connotes a person who gets really excited about a certain thing, i.e. "geeks out) and there are many things I really love. Unfortunately for me, I came to most of these things a day late and a dollar short.

Five Things I Wish I Had Caught Onto Sooner

1. Nirvana - So, now, I have the Kurt Cobain journal, most of their CD's and still have the words to "Smells Like Teen Spirit" memorized. When they were at their heyday? I was too big for my britches and didn't understand what all the hoopla was about. It wasn't until after KC died and there was no more new music to come, did I truly understand the genius that was lost. And the flannel. I'm still mourning the flannel.

2. Buffy the Vampire Slayer - BtVS is probably my biggest obsession. I am crazy for those pesky kids and their demon-slaying ways. My kids know all the words (except the dirty ones, of course) to the songs from the musical episode and I still manufacture mini-marathons for myself (which I can do because I own all seven seasons on DVD). But my dirty little secret? I didn't fall for Buffy until she was in her sixth season. And then, I didn't get the channel, so I had to wait for it to go to syndication.

3. Doctor Who - I blame my parents. I didn't grow up on the good Doctor and when I heard that they were going to reboot the series, I kinda thought, "Huh. That's the one with the scarf, right?" I have vague memories of Christopher Eccleston, but I didn't start watching regularly until what I like to call, "The Season of Many Specials," which is, of course, right before David Tennant went on to the great big Tardis in the sky. (Hmm. That analogy didn't quite work.)

4. Adele - Hey, have you heard this chick, Adele? Lungs like an angel and the most amazing lyrics and she is so gorgeous and amazing and... What? She's been around since 2008? Really. Huh? Millions of Grammy's? Well, she deserves them. And um, I'll be over here.

5. Smart Phones - I spent many years in the "I refuse to pay good money for a phone when the phone company will give me one for free" camp. And then, I got my baby, my angel, the love of my life - the HTC 4g Slide and I'll never be able to figure out what I did before I could Twitter and check email and play Words with Friends (Hello? Anybody still playing WWF?) and take better pictures than with my real camera and etc., etc. I guess I like, read or something.

What about you? Miss any parties lately?

Semi-Wordless Wednesday

Have you seen my board?
I just found it. It's a lovely board.
Just my size too. I love this board.

Um.. I mean it's not that great.
Not great enough for you to sound so interested.
Like, it's a totally normal board.
I'm so over it.

Yeah. I'm not even sure what you're talking about.
I don't have a board.
No board here. Just me.

Oh, Um. Hi. Yeah.

If you're wondering where I went when I wasn't here - I got nothin' for you. I've been right here, staring every day for a while at this same stupid white box and wishing I had something to say. Anything. Because it's just like the words left my head and went somewhere else.

You know, I don't believe in writer's block. Don't know what to write? Write anyway. Even if it is pure, unadulterated crap, from the great crap-mines of some distant planet, at least you have a starting place. Something that's not a blank screen. And usually - it's not as bad as you thought.

This was not writer's block. This was something else. Something that had mainly to do with motivation and a desire to curl into the fetal position and pretend to not exist until everyone forgot I was here. That is so not me, y'all. Imma a babbler, a rambler, a storyteller and for a while there, I quit being those things.

I know this sounds like the premise to a bad 80's movie, but I'm trying to find myself. If this was a bad 80's movie, I'd go to Tibet and climb a mountain or something. I'd talk to wise people and then I'd come back all fierce and driven and I'd say something gloriously witty. Here are the problems with that scenario:

1. Despite my deep longing to be a world traveler, I have a deep fear (born primarily of bad movies) of foreign prison and hospitals. I'm certain that no matter where I go, I'm going to inadvertently smuggle drugs or get hit by a bus and then what? I was really worried about the bus half of that scenario when I went to London. And I don't know, I was scared I would be subjected to superior medical treatment? At least my common sense could reason with my gut instinct, but in this case, I know nothing about the health care system in Tibet. And isn't that one movie where Claire Danes goes to jail for like forty years but looks exactly the same when she leaves set in Tibet? (Nope, Thailand.)
2. I have no money for Tibetan travel expenses.
3. I have this little thing called responsibility. I have a job and kids and a mortgage and I don't believe in movie magic.
4. I'm not really your mountain climbing sort. I'm more your Sky Lift riding sort.
5. I'm never witty. Maybe that's just because I've never climbed a Tibetan mountain, but I'm doubting it. 
6. That's way too touchy-feely crap for me.

So, no mountain for me. It's for the best really. 

Five Things on Friday - Purse Edition

I've never met a mom who didn't carry a lot of bizarre things in their purse. Tiny toys, diaper wipes, tissues... At a birthday party this weekend, I watched a friend of mine whip a wet wipe out of her purse like it was the most natural thing in the world.

That got me thinking about the weird stuff I carry. I've actually pared it down quite a bit since I recently moved into a (much smaller) old purse. And I thought I would share.

Five Strange Things in My Purse Right Now


1. Four Tubes of Lip Gloss - You'd think I was some sort of weird lip gloss addict, but I almost never remember I have any. I've got a tube that's Coke flavored that Santa brought me, a tube of cherry Carmex and two tubes of Burt's Bees. One's never been opened. I just realized that.

2. My Kid's MP3 Player - Brynna recently lost all of the cords to everything she owns. We're down to sharing a Nook cord and I guess I'm going to have to buy a new cord for her DS and oh, yeah, her mp3 player, because I can't charge it without the cord. And whenever she finds it, she whines about how she wants to listen to it. So I put in the little zipper pocket in my purse. Yes, I'm hiding her stuff from her. It's for her own good. Who am I kidding? It's for my own sanity.

3. The Case to a Pair of Lost Sunglasses - A couple of birthdays ago, my baby brother bought me a pair of Oakley's for my birthday. If you've ever owned a pair, you just sighed with joy. They are my favorite things in the whole wide world. The frames pop apart so kids can't break them! Anyway, I lost them in the fall and after months of weeping, I've finally given up and decided to buy another pair. But, in the meantime, I'm still carrying the old case. You wanna know why? They make their cases out of the microfibery stuff you're supposed to clean glasses and electronics with. That's why.

4. An Entire Card of Giant Bobby Pins - I don't know. Except that it has a thing on the card to help you open the bobby pin and I guess I want to keep them together. Maybe.

5. Mardi Gras Beads - I have two sets. They are orange and black and have great big things hanging from them. They're a giveaway from something my boss went to and I'm saving them for bribery. Except they are so ugly I'm not sure they'll work.

Okay, so what's the weirdest thing in your purse, ladies?

After the Storm

Monday night we had a storm. It was a doozy. The lightning lit up the sky, the hail pummelled my poor little roof, the rain came down in sheets, the sirens wailed. It was the kind of storm that I imagine will herald the end of the world. The whole house shook and sighed and after it had cleared, I walked around the house in the dark, looking for the damage that couldn't wait until morning. Finding none that dire, I finally headed (damp and chilled) to bed.

The worst of the storm was over, but it rained all night, coming in waves, harder rain fading to drizzle and back to the big fat drops that make you cold even inside.

Tuesday morning, I rose, showered, dressed and took a deep breath. I would have to go outside and do a more intensive evaluation of the damage. Starting at the front door, I turned right and began walking around the house. There was not much new, which is not to say that there wasn't much. The gutter that's draining into the wrong spot had caused a bit of a mess... There was more soffet missing from that spot with all the missing soffet. Yada, yada, around the house I walked, hoping and praying that there was nothing serious. Rounding the last corner, I found this:

I have had these irises for years, but never got one to bloom. And there, after the storm, was my payoff, my very favorite flower on earth, open and gaping and trembling under the weight of the water. Not bowed or broken by the high wind, but encouraged by it.

It occurred to me that the most beautiful sights are always right after the storm. Whether it's because truly lovely things happen then or because we are most open to beauty after the fear and trepidation that thunder leaves behind, I don't suppose I'll ever know.

Sometimes, a storm is needed, to soak the roots or unearth the root or whatever. Sometimes you don't know what you've got until after the storm.

No, Really...

Here's the thing: My kids are awesome. They are brilliant and beautiful and preternaturally funny. They are kind and sweet and well-mannered. (Except when they are not.) They are 90% angel and 10% brilliant beaming light from above. In other words, I am every parent you've ever met.

And I talk about my kids a lot. I have seven years of experience at talking about my kids. You know, because they are exceptional.

And here's the thing: people have no trouble believing that Brynna is reading on a fifth grade level, or that she regularly gives me (good) fashion advice. I've never been met with disbelief when I am waxing rhapsodic about her acclaimed and phenomenal artistic talent.

People nod emphatically when I regale with tales of Maren's impressive intelligence and early mastery of sarcasm. They may look taken aback, but never disbelieving when I demonstrate her abnormal vocabulary. And they never bat an eye at her predilection for all things scary.

So, why? Why, oh why, cruel world, do you not believe me when I tell you that my three year old fixes cars. I will readily admit that she does it with help and that she's not out there dropping transmissions on her own. But the fact is that she is really helping and in a much bigger way than the tool handing that I occasionally did for my grandpa when he tried to beat engines into submission, because he was truly as lost as I was.

She knows if your car has a carborator. I dont' even know the purpose of a carborator. You could tell me in the comments, but it's not like I've never been told. It's just not the sort of information my brain retains. (Ask me about which Manson victims were killed with which weapons or the order in which 90's grunge icons died, though. I retain stuff. Just totally and completely useless stuff.)

She got mad at me for putting coolant in my car without her assistance. She helped put new brakes on my car and she occasionally (with her Papaw's help) rescues stranded motorists. She is, completely of her own volition, obviously,**) saving money for a motorcycle.

I do not make these things up. If I were going to assign her a skill set and tell completely fictional stories about her aptitude, it would be about something which I know more than - oh hey, car, yo.

So trust me, I am not making this up. Gushing, yes. Telling the same stories ninety times, of course. Hoping that one day she'll get my stupid triad of doom to go away and my van to run properly, absolutely. But not making this up.

Kids: Ruing Stuff You Love Since Ever

My mother and my little brother share this intense love of cars and all things vroom-y. And I like to be inside of the vroomy things. I am supremely uninterested in how it works or why it works. All I care about is the windows down, stereo cranked, wind in my hair, what speed limit?

I love to drive. I used to drive a lot. Just for the fun. I would take the longest possible route home, purposely get myself lost in the middle of nowhere. A full tank of gas and who cares if we missed that turn, let's see where this road goes.

My long drive (about an hour each way with stops for kids) is a big part of why I live where I live. (Let's be honest, ridiculously low housing prices in the smallest town in the world is another big part.) I like to get in the car and go.

I like the feel of the road under my tires, the push and pull of curves and hills, the roar/purr/clanky jive of the engine. It's an experience. Driving. It fills me with peace and happiness and faith in the world around me.

Or it used to.

Now, it fills me with headaches and misery and screaminess. Why? Because the car is much like the octagonal ring in UFC. By that, I men that the minute we get in the car, my kids start with each other.

"Don't touch me." - "I'm not touching you."
"Maren caaaalled me Frienna."
"You hit me! She hit me! Make her sit on her hands."
"Be quiet! I don't want to hear you sing."
"I just want to go to sleep."
"It is not a bear. There are no bears here. Mommy would have said, hey kids, look, it's a bear if there were a bear."*
"That's my baby. Get your own baby."
"Why won't you share your blanket with me."
"I dropped my puppy."

It never ends. Until we get out of the car. And then, magically, it's:
"I'll get the mail."
"Do you need help with your backpack, Maren."
"Mommy, can I unlock the door?"

But by then, my nerves are shot, my patience is gone, my head is throbbing and all I want is to go to bed.

I find myself dreading getting in the car. I find myself trying to avoid driving places.

Someone tell me this will go away. Please. Before they both have a licence. Just in case: only-thirteen-more-years, only-thirteen-more-years.

I love my kids, but I sure miss my drive.

*I'm not totally convinced I would. It would probably be more like, "Holy Pants, where'd that bear come from? What should we do? Should I call someone? Bear on the lose, bear on the lose." I live in the boonies, but not that far in the boonies, y'all.

Five Things on Friday - Living in the Future Edition

You know, this was once amazing
and bizarre technology.

As you know, I read a lot of Sci Fi. My passion for Sci Fi is the balance of what changes and what stays the same. The human condition is a constant, whether we're in Renaissance Venice, modern-day New York City or a colony on Mars. Humanity will be consistently beset with the same issues and tribulations - the fragility of the human body and mind, the balance of compassion and self-preservation, the moral ambiguity of everyday life.

What changes is not us, is not ever us. What changes is our interaction with the world around us. The technology that is developed, or sometimes lost, changes the way we live, but not who we are.

Sometimes, I am struck by the reality that I am, in a very real way, living in the future. We all are. We have, chronologically at least, surpassed 1984 and 2001: A Space Odyssey and more and more checkpoints are passed by every day. And yet, in some ways... well, in some ways, we are still watching 90210 and Dallas, so we can't be making that much progress.

All the same, though,

Five Things We Have Now that Could Have Been Wild Speculation Just a Few Years Ago


1. Holographic Performers - Okay, obviously, everyone has heard about the resurrection of Tupac, via hologram at the annual Coachella whatever it is. But, hey, did you know about Hatsune Miku? No, neither did I until this morning. Here, watch this, then return to me, my minions of YouTube. Confused? Hatsune Miku is a completely holographic, fictional performer who plays sold-out shows in Japan. Really, there's no person here. Her voice is sampled and run through some obviously voodoo computer program. Her lyrics and music are crowd sourced, written by fans and posted to YouTube or the Japanese equivalent. There is no human element. She's all made-up and all Live and In Concert. I can't decide if this is amazing or truly creepy. That's kinda what makes for good Sci Fi, though, so I'm a-gonna roll with it.

2. Cell Phones - I know this is wicked obvious, but just take a moment to soak this in: you probably have, in your pocket right now, a computer more powerful than the first computer to ever browse the Internet, with more memory than one of the early roomful of computers. Faster than the teacher's computer in your first Apple IIe computer lab. And here's the thing - chances are you've already reached at least one limit of it's power, run out of storage space and complained more than once about how slowly it loads video. It's a minuscule little powerhouse that just happens to also make calls, take pictures, check your email and function as a Star Trek worthy comm device. Plus, it's voice activated. (At least mine is - ha ha suckers - and I don't even have to call it Suri.)

3. E-Books - Trust me, I am the absolute first to insist that real, paper books remain a part of our world. There shall always be libraries, book shelves, the smell of paper and the annoyance of dust jackets, so long as I rule the world. (Shh. Don't upset the crazy lady.) But, seriously, as someone who is a book hoarder and has moved her entire library across the country and across town, I can say with absolute conviction, walking around with 27 books in my purse, like I am right now, rocks. Being able to whip out a couple of never-before read books in the doctor's office or a traffic jam to amuse a whiny kid rocks. Making margin notes and covering the pages with post-its, without literally making margin notes and covering the pages with post-its rocks. And I won't even get into how great it is to be able to go to the library at 3 a.m. FutureBooks - we has 'em.

4. Smart Appliances - The Smart House is something that pops up again and again in Sci Fi. In fact, on the fabulous show Eureka, airing right stinking now, Sarah is the sheriff's smart house (and more this season, hehehe). And yet, have you seen this fridge? It keeps track of what you have, tells you what you need to buy, what you can cook with what you have, connects to the Internet and scolds you if you take too many brownies. (I'm not sure about that last part.) And that's just the start, smart ovens and stovetops aren't far behind and there's even been a preview of a smart washing machine. Is it really that far fetched that we'll get them all to talk and maintain one "house" computer that knows everything that's going on? I think not. Exciting in a Sarah sort of way. Terrifying in a Skynet sort of way.

5. Reality TV - From The Running Man to Death Race to The Hunger Games, reality TV is an important part of our future. It's the struggle for humanity itself as people watch with awe as other's are injured, tortured and even killed. This is the "there but for the grace of God," version of the future. Or you could look at the example of Idiocracy and compare it to Jersey Shore. Whatever. It works either way.

I'm still waiting for the teleportation device, though. What are you amazed that we have? Or, what are you still waiting for?

About Me

You know, it's one of those things you have to do. You have to have an about me page. So, here goes:

About Jessi or LadyJess
(depending on how you got here)




I am:

• Clinically Insane - I perhaps lack paperwork, but I make up for it with a collection of neuroses that rival only serial killers and clowns. I am afraid of being trapped, silence, Charles Manson, dead things, mice and really bright sunshine. I am not afraid of vampires, bats, snakes, tornadoes or zombies. Go figure.
• A Crafter - It's possible that this counts under clinically insane. It does lead to hoarding and the annoying habit of picking up trash and saying, "Oooh. Wouldn't this make a lovely mixing bowl." Forgive me. I also crochet.
• Single-ish - I am in the process of ending a ten year marriage and it's crazy. I talk about it some.  I say I'm fine a lot. Sometimes it's because I am and sometimes it's because I'm not.
• A Mom - I have two beautiful and amazing kids who drive me crazy, make me laugh, cuddle up with me in front of the TV and sing Indigo Girls songs. They are pretty spectacular. 
• A Huge and Unrelenting Geek with Only Moderate Geek Cred - I read comics, but only those with no superheroes, I love SciFi, but am neither a Trekkie or one of those people who can remember if Admiral Akbar is a good guy or a bad guy. (Good guy, right? These are the things that keep me up at night.) I love Joss Whedon, They Might Be Giants, Wil Wheaton and British genre shows. I say things like "I love British genre shows." I have a degree in English Lit, which means that sometimes I wax rhapsodic about TV as literature or the place of faith in modern Science Fiction. I also read. A lot.
• Ridiculously Insecure - So, you know, just like every other girl on the planet.
• A Pof - Or Person of Faith for those of you who are not me. I go to church, I read the Bible, I do all of that stuff. I'm a Christian, but not of the Christian Church type or the DOC type. I technically attend a Southern Baptist church, but I don't think that really describes me either, which is why I go with Pof. 
• A Believer - Here's the thing. I believe in ghosts, I believe that zombies are one irresponsible government move away and that we will one day colonize another planet. Yes, I am insane. No, I'm not crazy.
• A Writer - As long as you share my definition of writer as "a person who writes." 

Other Things I Do:

• I tweet, rarely and poorly, but I'm working on it. 
• I pinterest emphatically.
• I ravelry occasionally.
• I email at ladyjess78 (at) gmail (dot) com.

A Where that Is Else

So, I know I've been MIA. I spent Friday shoe shopping with youngsters, yesterday caring for a sick kiddo and today, well, today I'm busy catching up from Friday and today. I promise that there will be better posting ahead. Way better.

In the meantime, I shall distract you with shiny things:

I have a post up today at Do These Kids Make Me Look Crazy as a part of The Divorce Project. You should check it out. 

Oooh, shiny. My kids decked out in their Easter finery.

Slightly less shiny: Maren in her natural Easter state.

Brynna rockin' the Easter shades.

What I Want to Say

When things began to look grim, I went in search of blogs dealing with divorce. It seemed only rational to look to people on the blogosphere who were sharing my experience, or the experience I was fairly certain I was headed toward.

I didn't find much.

Oh, it's not that no one out there is writing about divorce, it's just that none of it was right.

There were the bitter folks: those who blamed everything on the other party and hated them like fire for the horror they'd caused. You know, I have those moments, I suppose everyone has those moments, but the truth is that sustaining that kind of anger takes a lot of work. I don't have the energy. Plus, I figure we're both pretty stricken right now. No need to make it worse.

There were the sad people: those who felt like everything they'd ever been was being yanked away from them. I guess I have those moments, too. Let's not forget that in addition to being my husband and the father of my kids, Bob was my best friend. For about fourteen years. Losing that person is sad and hard and there are a lot of days where I just feel like no one will ever get me again. But that's not the sum, or even the majority of my experience.

I believe that what we are doing right now, no matter how hard and sad and rage-inducing is right. We tried, we did. We made a valiant effort and now we are making an effort to move on, be cooperative, co-parent and live happy lives.

I never saw myself here. I never imagined that we would be part of the half that don't make it. Not for one second. But now that I'm here, I don't feel any of the things I thought I would feel. I'm hopeful and mostly happy.

Just before Christmas, someone who works in my building heard the news. "Congratulations," she said. I blinked. Said thanks. Blinked again. Then I started crying. Happy tears, because I swear to pants she was the first person who didn't say they were sorry or that they hoped we worked it out or that it must be so hard. She was the first person that saw in me that this was better.

When I told her that, she told me this story. When she and her husband split up, a well-meaning friend said how sad it was that her kids had to grow up in a "broken home" now. My friend, let's call her Abby, said, "No they don't. It was broken and I fixed it."

That's largely how I feel. We were broken. And we were living our broken lives, convincing ourselves that it was better, it was healthier, it was more moral and better for the kids and that broken was just a temporary state. We were wrong.

We're still not to the point where we talk much, but I can tell you about me. I'm not broken anymore. I'm adjusting. I'm struggling some days, but I'm not broken. I'm finding myself and remembering all the things I used to like about myself. I'm pretty spiffy, actually.

And here's what I want to say: Divorce is never easy. It's never pleasant or nice or comfortable. It's not ideal. But it's okay. It's fine. It's okay to be mad. It's fine to be sad. But it's also okay to be fine. It's okay to see the way your life was and the way life is now and say: That's better. It's okay to dust off your hands and start putting your life back in the order you prefer. It's okay.

People are going to say stupid things. Because they do. People are going to do stupid things. Because they do. But when people say you are in denial or that you're cold or that you should be feeling this whole list of things that you just don't feel, just remember. Fixing is hard work, but that's what you're doing. And you're doing a fine job of it.

For D Upon His Graduation

Dear D,

Do you know how clearly I remember the day you were born? Or your goofy little kid smile? The pictures you sent me in Kansas? Or the dragon shirts? Or your middle school football games?

This weekend, I watched you graduate and walk out into the world as an adult. Someone with purpose and preparation. A person ready to pursue your dreams.

I have spent your entire life being fiercely proud of you. Proud of your intelligence, your sense of humor, your compassion (even though you like to pretend you don't have any), your strength, your talent and your grace.

You are an amazing person. An amazing person who has thwarted expectations at every turn.

At your graduation, there was a speech about the "three kinds of people in this world." It was sweet and inspiring and in may ways, oh so true. I thought I would share with you my version.

There are three kinds of people in this world: those who can count and those who can't.

I say this, because as much as I understand and appreciate the sentiment behind that touching speech, I hope something else for you: that you will never strive to be any kind of person.

Because you are enough just the way you are. By following your heart, your conscience, your faith or the voices in your head, you have become more than I ever dreamed of hoping for that chubby faced little brother of mine.

You've never done what was expected or easy or enough. You have instead sought out the paths that lead where you want to go, regardless of where they lead in the meantime. And you have persevered.

Now, you are standing on a precipice. I don't know if it truly feels like it or not, but this is the moment. The moment when you let go of the rope, jump out of the plane, yell "Geronimo" and free fall. You'll have more moments like this, some even more scary, but this moment is where you and you alone are responsible for the outcome.

It's terrifying and exhilarating and amazing. And you are ready.

Don't follow. Don't try to be anything you aren't. Do what you think is right is best and never forget that no matter how high that plane, you always have a safety net.

Just be you. Always. Because you are amazing.

Love,
Your Big Sister

P.S. I love you.

Getting Used to It

Remember when you got married (assuming you are married)? Remember how it took a while to get used to? To writing a new name, to waking up with someone next to you, to thinking twice about what to make for supper or where to go on vacation?

Well, it turns out that the reverse is true, too. You have to get used to not doing those things.

Some of those things are easier. As a self-professed bed-hog, I'm quite content alone in the bed, thankyouverymuch. Some of those things don't apply. I'm keeping the name and you still actually have to think about feeding kids.

And seven months into this, I'm pretty much settled. I don't really think too much about things like coming home to an empty house or being the sole person in charge of waking up in tornado weather anymore. Other things like washing dishes are still a struggle. (Ten years of not doing a job affects your ability, not so much to do the job, but to remember that it is, in fact, a job and kinda needs doing.)

And all those compromises you make to live with another human being - pretty much out the window. Sleeping with the TV on and saving the bathroom rugs for company - FTW!

There are still things I have to learn to do. I'm still adapting to the girls being gone from me so much. I still don't so much know how to talk to people. I don't know what to say when they ask questions or say they are sorry.

The biggest challenge to my adjustment, though, is me. I feel sometimes like I've put everything on hold. I just feel like if I can get through until everything is finalized... If I can keep making it until summer comes... If I can keep on trucking until tomorrow...

For a long time I went to bed as soon as the kids were tucked in. Not that I slept that much. I went and watched TV and read and even did crafts in bed. I checked out movies from the library and ate snacks and treated my bed like a couch. I only lived in the living room when the girls were there to live with me. Otherwise, I was locked away in my bedroom. Just recently, I've come to understand that part of my mess (the literal house mess) comes from the fact that I turn out the lights as soon as little fingers stop pulling out everything in the free world.

Now, I force myself to stay up, even it's just to watch TV in a different room. Building habits, yo.

I stopped reading for a while. I'm over that. I'm still not as voracious as I was before, but I'm catching up. My new toy helps and so does my new bookclub. My crafting has slowed down and my housecleaning, well... Best not to discuss that. On the other hand, I'm nearly caught up on laundry for the first time in a century.

Slowly, but surely, though, I'm getting back to normal. I'm getting used to all the things. And it's not bad. It's just a matter of adjustment.

Five Things on Friday - Kids' Clothes Edition

Flapdoodles

My kids... Have I mentioned lately how cute my kids are? I mean, they are totally cute. Probably almost as cute as your kids. Definitely cuter than Suri Cruise (unless Katie Holmes reads my blog, then *blush* exactly as cute as Suri Cruise).

In any case, Brynna has this new top. From Lilybugs, you know. And it's smocked on top. Not fancy smocked, but sundress smocked. With elastic. Anyway - And, wow, do I love smocking. A lot. As anyone who wears over a C cup knows, however, there are just some people who can't pull off smocking. And it got me thinking about how much I love my kids' clothes and how I wish I could wear them. Which leads me to...

Five Kids Fashions I Wish I Could Wear

Skechers

1. Ridiculous Shoes - Kids' shoes have bows and flowers and lights and they are crazy colors and have big funky ribbon laces. I love kids's shoes. Shoes should never stop being fun.

Drake's Dresser

2. Leggings - So, I know that some adults can wear leggings, and I suppose that given the right outfit (like a knee length dress) I could wear leggings, too. But I maintain that leggings and Jessi just do not get along. Like even a little. Maybe someday I'll be swayed, but it will not be this day.

3. Backpacks - Trust me on this, after a certain age, you either look silly or like a wannabe hacker with a backpack. It's just the facts, ma'am. I'm sorry. I really am. I still have my bright red LL Bean, so I know how you feel.


4. Rainboots - You know who always looks precious in rain boots? Kids. You know who would look like they were trying too hard, plus have hot, sweaty, miserable feet in rainboots? Me.

5. Sailor Dresses - I'm pretty sure that the only way for an adult to wear a sailor suit is to star in Japanese porn. I may be making wide generalizations, here, but I doubt it.