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Congratulations to
Beruriah on the safe arrival of baby Samuel Nadav!
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What does it mean when my five-year-old son has functionality problems with his
imaginary computer?
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If I have to watch "Merry Christmas Charlie Brown" one more time, I might just lose my mind. I think it might be time for the DVR to have a little accident.
"I don't know what happened, Sam, it must have been deleted by mistake."
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It is impossible for me to maintain
any respect for someone who puts "Meet Joe Black" on their list of all-time favorite movies.
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Steve suggested I keep my maternity clothes until the spring...because "you never know."
So now I think about it. I think about how I would feel to try to have another baby. I think about how I would feel to NOT try to have another baby. I'm not getting any younger and there is no time to waste. I would love to have more children. I don't want to live the rest of my life feeling sad that I let fear and doubt rob me of that...that I let fear and doubt make my decisions for me. But at the same time, why push my luck? What we have is beautiful and wonderful and fabulous.
I guess crazy isn't crazy enough for Steve...in our house AND in my head. Too bad he's got to deal with the stuff in my head first.
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I found out I was assigned to help with my son's holiday party when another mother called me to see what role I would prefer to play (party supplies, room attendant, etc). I LOVE the non-existent communication from this school. grrr!
And since the teacher KNOWS I've had the baby, WHY did she assign me to this party? Why not hold onto my name for the Valentine's party? If I were a more suspicious person, I might think she did it deliberately to see if she could set me up for failure.
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Is it ok to just send a gift with a note that says, "Thinking of you," and nothing else? Or is it better to explain the thought? They say it's the thought that counts...but what if they don't "get" the thought?
Lately, all my gifts seem to go with lengthy explanations...disclaimers of sorts. I guess, having been down the road I've been down, I want the person receiving the gift to know EXACTLY what I'm thinking when I send it...so I don't unintentionally hurt their feelings in any way. But then I feel like a dork. I mean...shut up already...it's just a Christmas ornament.
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Here's a confession for you...
I'm not particularly good at this mom of two thing. In fact, if my five-year-old son's current loud muttering behind the closed door of his bedroom is any indication, I pretty much suck at it. Or maybe it's just that I suck at being the mommy to a five-year-old. I actually told him that if he wants to go back to daycare instead of spending the day with my and Myles I would be ok with that. I SO would NOT be ok with that...but it came out before I could stop it.
And what did he do to inspire such a loving comment from mommy dearest? He refused to play Scrabble with me after he had pestered me for three days to play it. He saw all the tiles and, looking back at it now, was quite intimidated by the game. I tried to convince him it would be fun to learn new things...to learn a new game to play...and he scrunched up his face in a pout, walked to the other side of the living room, and planted his face in the couch cushions, muttering, "I don't want to play this game...it's too hard."
It IS a hard game and I recognize that. And I tried to take it to his five-year-old level and make it fun for us both. It was his complete unwillingness to even TRY that sent me right over the edge. He has this mental block when it comes to new things...he's "not good at this" or "he doesn't know how to do that." I have never met a person more stubborn to try something new. I mean, it's just a game of Scrabble!
So I sent him to his room. And when he slammed the door and locked it, I marched upstairs, forced the door open (he should have seen the shock on his face), spanked him once on the bottom for slamming the door, told him to leave it unlocked (which he's been told before), and told him he could come out of his room as soon as it was clean. Yeah, that's me...adding insult to injury.
And of course, now Sam will NEVER want to play a freaking game of Scrabble, thanks to me.
Yeah...like I should even CONSIDER having another baby. I can't even deal with the two I've got.
(He just came down here, while I was typing this, to whine that he needed help cleaning his room. Well buddy, I need help with the dishes and the laundry. I'll tell you what...you do those and I'll clean your room. OK? GAH! I need a drink!)
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