Sing the following song (to the tune of If you're happy and you know it...) and see if you can get it out of your head. If you succeed, please let me know how you did it. Because I've been singy, singy singing until my head is spinning, oh I wish that I had never heard this song.
Oh I wish I were a little ‘lectric eel
Yes I wish I were a little ‘lectric eel
I’d go sparky sparky sparky, way down in the ocean dark-y
Oh I wish I were a little ‘lectric eel
Oh I wish I were a little hungry goat
Yes I wish I were a little hungry goat
I’d go munchy munchy munchy, right through everybody’s lunch-y
Oh I wish I were a little hungry goat
Oh I wish I were a little octopus
Yes I wish I were a little octopus
I’d go wave-y wave-y wave-y, to the sailors in the Navy
Oh I wish I were a little octopus
Oh I wish I were a little spotted cow
Yes I wish I were a little spotted cow
You’d get milk outta my udder, and you’d churn it into butter
Oh I wish I were a little spotted cow
Oh I wish I were a little bite-y shark
Yes I wish I were a little bite-y shark
I’d go swimmy swimmy swimmy, then I’d tear you limb from limb-y
Oh I wish I were a little bite-y shark
Oh I wish I were a little hanging bat
Yes I wish I were a little hanging bat
I’d go dangle dangle dangle, at a terrifying angle
Oh I wish I were a little hanging bat
Oh I wish I were a little mosquito,
Oh I wish I were a little mosquito,
I’d go bitey, bitey, bitey under everybody’s nightie,
Oh, I wish I were a little mosquito.
Oh I wish I were a little giant squid,
Oh I wish I were a little giant squid,
I’d go winky, winky, winky and I’d squirt you with my inky,
Oh, I wish I were a little mosquito.
Oh I wish I were a little bar of soap,
Oh I wish I were a little bar of soap,
I’d go wishy-washy-wushy over everybody’s tushy
oh I wish I were a little bar of soap
oh I wish I were a little speedy car
oh I wish I were a little speedy car
I’d go speedy-speedy-speedy over everybody’s feety
oh I wish I were a little speedy car
Birthday/Halloween party pics coming soon!
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Three
Dear Colin,
My big, fills my heart three-year-old boy. Somehow three seems so much older than two. My memories of our first days together are already hazy in the mists, but when I look at pictures of you, small and snuggled into our arms, I get all melty for the days when keeping your tummy filled was our biggest challenge (Daddy says I have selective memory). And then I see you as you are today, running (rarely walking) into the room on your long sturdy legs to tell me all about your latest discovery, and I am thankful that the reality of you is living up to the promise we felt when we discovered you were on the way.
Even six months ago you didn’t really do a lot of talking unless we started the conversation. You are now a chatterbox! You amaze us with the things that are coming out of your mouth. You remember things from months ago, and you somehow weave in events spread over days into one story. You’re a bit of a tall-teller too, sometimes ratting yourself out on things you didn’t even do. I love your unique pronunciation of words, and we aren’t doing much to correct you – knowing that you’ll figure out on your own that mahtayto is really tomato, and effalant becomes elephant.
Whenever we are out and about, you greet whomever crosses your path. Most of the time you get a reply and you are so proud that “He/She say hi to me!” And if you don’t get a response, you get a little upset that they "not hear me?" You make friends easily and I think you will be a popular little guy (especially with the girls) once you are in school.
You have a very expressive face, and you use it to full advantage when you are telling a story or when you are trying to get something out of daddy or me. Your sly grin and faux sad pout are favorites of mine. It’s still strange for us to discover our own expressions on your face. Daddy says you have my “glowery brows” and I think you have his big smile.
I’ll let you in on a secret. I love to take tests. It’s part of my nerdy genes that you may or may not have acquired. But boy howdy, Colin. You do test me to distraction. From the beginning you have decided that if there is a limit, you will try to cross it. And if there isn’t a limit, you will create one. You like to be a “rascal boy” and you know when you are pushing buttons on purpose. We know you are exploring your world this way, and we try to give you enough room to make discoveries without hurting yourself too badly or making ourselves nuts.
You have a great fondness for band-aids, and will try to weasel one out of us at any boo boo opportunity. We have discovered that you like to answer our cell phones, but not give the phone to us. You love your grandparents (and their dogs!) like crazy, and we are glad we can see them as often as we do considering the distance between us and them. You are a little bit vain - looking at pictures of yourself is always a top priority. "I a dapper man."
Daddy is your go-to guy when it comes to getting treats, and mommy is your main gal for hugs and kisses. I love that you are my big kitchen helper, and daddy’s garage monkey. Trains are the thing for you, and animals of all shapes and sizes.
You are a rough and tumble boy, and fairly fearless. Daddy says you are practicing early for football with the way you run at us with your head down – ready to tackle.
My big, fills my heart three-year-old boy. Somehow three seems so much older than two. My memories of our first days together are already hazy in the mists, but when I look at pictures of you, small and snuggled into our arms, I get all melty for the days when keeping your tummy filled was our biggest challenge (Daddy says I have selective memory). And then I see you as you are today, running (rarely walking) into the room on your long sturdy legs to tell me all about your latest discovery, and I am thankful that the reality of you is living up to the promise we felt when we discovered you were on the way.
Even six months ago you didn’t really do a lot of talking unless we started the conversation. You are now a chatterbox! You amaze us with the things that are coming out of your mouth. You remember things from months ago, and you somehow weave in events spread over days into one story. You’re a bit of a tall-teller too, sometimes ratting yourself out on things you didn’t even do. I love your unique pronunciation of words, and we aren’t doing much to correct you – knowing that you’ll figure out on your own that mahtayto is really tomato, and effalant becomes elephant.
Whenever we are out and about, you greet whomever crosses your path. Most of the time you get a reply and you are so proud that “He/She say hi to me!” And if you don’t get a response, you get a little upset that they "not hear me?" You make friends easily and I think you will be a popular little guy (especially with the girls) once you are in school.
You have a very expressive face, and you use it to full advantage when you are telling a story or when you are trying to get something out of daddy or me. Your sly grin and faux sad pout are favorites of mine. It’s still strange for us to discover our own expressions on your face. Daddy says you have my “glowery brows” and I think you have his big smile.
I’ll let you in on a secret. I love to take tests. It’s part of my nerdy genes that you may or may not have acquired. But boy howdy, Colin. You do test me to distraction. From the beginning you have decided that if there is a limit, you will try to cross it. And if there isn’t a limit, you will create one. You like to be a “rascal boy” and you know when you are pushing buttons on purpose. We know you are exploring your world this way, and we try to give you enough room to make discoveries without hurting yourself too badly or making ourselves nuts.
You have a great fondness for band-aids, and will try to weasel one out of us at any boo boo opportunity. We have discovered that you like to answer our cell phones, but not give the phone to us. You love your grandparents (and their dogs!) like crazy, and we are glad we can see them as often as we do considering the distance between us and them. You are a little bit vain - looking at pictures of yourself is always a top priority. "I a dapper man."
Daddy is your go-to guy when it comes to getting treats, and mommy is your main gal for hugs and kisses. I love that you are my big kitchen helper, and daddy’s garage monkey. Trains are the thing for you, and animals of all shapes and sizes.
You are a rough and tumble boy, and fairly fearless. Daddy says you are practicing early for football with the way you run at us with your head down – ready to tackle.
You are also a snuggly, huggy boy. You rarely turn down the invitation for a hug and you love to have us sit with you so you can direct us to “put you blankie on.” You give the best hugs on earth.
You have a courageous, open heart and soul, and your daddy and I hope that we are helping you keep those traits as every day you take another new leap into the world.
Happy Birthday our little bumble boy!
Love Mommy and Daddy
Monday, October 20, 2008
One for the record books
It was a momentous day today. One that I must remember for posterity.
I used wrinkle minimizing cream for the first time to try to detract attention from the horrendous 11 between me brows and the horizontal pathways on my forehead.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Cagefighting, anyone?
There are days when I'm very content with my little bumble boy and we sing through the day tra-la-la. Then there are days like yesterday.
Oh. My. God.
I don't know what is going on with him but he is incapable of sitting near me without pinching, biting, headbutting, scratching or pulling my hair. I try to explain that we are not competing in the Extreme Cage Fighting tourney, no sir we are not. But it's on deaf ears.
It starts off innocently enough. "Mommy, read to me?" "I'd love to read a book to you!" So he brings me the latest library discovery and cuddles up next to me for a story. But sure enough, about half way through starts the creeping pincer hand. Then the headbutting "cuddles." Then he's draped over me like a many-tentacled sea creature and I'm literally fighting him off me.
I don't let him get away with it. But my tactics must not be working because he keeps doing it. First I remove the pinching hand (biting mouth, scratching nails, etc.) and say, don't pinch me. The next time he does it I tell him I'm going to leave if he does it again. The third time I'm done. I put the book or toy down and tell him I'm not playing with him if he can't be nice. That usually does the trick.
We will sometimes spank or a flick to the offending digit - but usually? that just pisses him off more and he comes back for another attack. Did I mention Colin is a Scorpio?
What's (almost) funny is that first he acts surprised like, "what was I doing? I was just loving you!" (yes, he hassaid yelled that at me "I JUST LOVING YOU!") and then he gets all contrite like for about a second and then suddenly it's my fault and he starts crying or hollering at me, which makes me feel bad, but dude. I don't like to be pinched, or clawed in the face like yesterday because I was trying to get him to put the triangle puzzle piece on the puzzle by himself. I had to excuse myself from jammie duty thanks to one too many kicks to the midsection in a tussle over the lotion bottle.
I'm trying to find a way out of this because I do like to play with him and read to him - you know - be a mom? And I don't like it when my life sounds like the plot of some Lifetime movie starring Melissa Gilbert... "She Had to Walk Away, premiering tonight at 8."
But this phase is making me retreat from the Bumble and I find it hard not to take it personally as I have been advised by the hubs. But he doesn't do this to Rob. Hmm, is this some kind of twisted genetic payback for all the crazy mood swings Rob has to deal with from me?
Oh. My. God.
I don't know what is going on with him but he is incapable of sitting near me without pinching, biting, headbutting, scratching or pulling my hair. I try to explain that we are not competing in the Extreme Cage Fighting tourney, no sir we are not. But it's on deaf ears.
It starts off innocently enough. "Mommy, read to me?" "I'd love to read a book to you!" So he brings me the latest library discovery and cuddles up next to me for a story. But sure enough, about half way through starts the creeping pincer hand. Then the headbutting "cuddles." Then he's draped over me like a many-tentacled sea creature and I'm literally fighting him off me.
I don't let him get away with it. But my tactics must not be working because he keeps doing it. First I remove the pinching hand (biting mouth, scratching nails, etc.) and say, don't pinch me. The next time he does it I tell him I'm going to leave if he does it again. The third time I'm done. I put the book or toy down and tell him I'm not playing with him if he can't be nice. That usually does the trick.
We will sometimes spank or a flick to the offending digit - but usually? that just pisses him off more and he comes back for another attack. Did I mention Colin is a Scorpio?
What's (almost) funny is that first he acts surprised like, "what was I doing? I was just loving you!" (yes, he has
I'm trying to find a way out of this because I do like to play with him and read to him - you know - be a mom? And I don't like it when my life sounds like the plot of some Lifetime movie starring Melissa Gilbert... "She Had to Walk Away, premiering tonight at 8."
But this phase is making me retreat from the Bumble and I find it hard not to take it personally as I have been advised by the hubs. But he doesn't do this to Rob. Hmm, is this some kind of twisted genetic payback for all the crazy mood swings Rob has to deal with from me?
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Taking a Leap
In my last post I scoffed about having to do an all day staff retreat at a ropes course. I wouldn’t say the day was the best eight hours I have spent.
We spent the morning in a quasi-group therapy session, doing the typical cheesy teambuilding games that did nothing to address what is really going on. Picture tossing balls back and forth, spinning some metal washers on a bigger metal ring, working out a maze path without speaking to each other…
Yah. After those good times, we were herded out to the high adventure area (if you are an Amazing Race fan, tune into the season finale – that’s where we were) and ended up in front of two very tall trees, with a log secured in between them. A system of climbing ropes draped around the scene, and one tree was festooned with climbing staples leading the way up, up, and more up to something like a thousand million feet.
Riiiighht.
I am not generally afraid of heights. I gleefully zip lined my way through a Kauai rainforest after all. Of course, we were encouraged not to do anything we didn’t feel comfortable doing. Because being the only one out of a group of 12, including your manager and the CEO, not participating is really comfortable like and doesn’t make you stand out aaat allll.
I stepped up to help on the belay team. I watched as one by one my coworkers strapped on a harness and helmet, and monkeyed their way up the tree, thirty feet up, step out onto the log and then jump off to be hauled down by the belay team. Some were a bit shaky, but they all had big smiles on their faces as they came down. I made up my mind to do the challenge after my older coworker who has COPD got suited up (he didn't make it all the way through, but it was awesome to see him get most of the way up the tree). I mean, really. How could I not? Plus I was intrigued. Could I do it?
So I get into the harness and WHAM. My brain decides to cry, baby, cry. I stepped up to the tree and started up without anyone except the guide seeing my wobbly bottom lip. The higher I got, the feeling of, not fear, but what I can only describe as sadness, overtook me. I got to the point where I had to transfer from the tree to the log and I made a shaky transition. And the tears came even harder. And then everyone below saw, or heard, what was going on. The chatter stopped and I heard someone say, “Oh! She’s crying!” Great. Now I’m crying thirty feet up in the air and people know it.
I remember thinking, what the hell? Why is my stomach not in knots but I’m snuffling like Colin after I’ve told him no more chocolate? My thoughts were clear and I was aware that I was out of sync. I wanted to reign it in. And I wanted to stop and sob my heart out. I tried to breathe it out. Just like I tell Colin – like blowing big bubbles. I even looked around up in the trees. Very beautiful. Didn’t stop the sobbing snot from flowing. I made it to the middle of the log before I was ready to come down.
The emotional overload cleared out as soon as I was on the ground and feeling raathaa stupid for crying in front of my coworkers. They did nothing to make me feel bad or pitied, for which I’m grateful. I got hugs and a lot of "way to gos." Someone asked me if I felt peer pressured into climbing. And I wasn’t really, not from them. In the past year or so I have been trying to face my fears – I figure if I’m so scared to do something, like being on camera or the radio, it’s the universe telling me it’s time to learn something. I’m glad I did it, have no freaking idea what happened up there. I think I’ve been holding in just a wee bit of stress and frustration that needed to come out in an unfortunately public place.
I would do it again, preferably with family or friends. But stick some Kleenex in my pocket wontcha?
We spent the morning in a quasi-group therapy session, doing the typical cheesy teambuilding games that did nothing to address what is really going on. Picture tossing balls back and forth, spinning some metal washers on a bigger metal ring, working out a maze path without speaking to each other…
Yah. After those good times, we were herded out to the high adventure area (if you are an Amazing Race fan, tune into the season finale – that’s where we were) and ended up in front of two very tall trees, with a log secured in between them. A system of climbing ropes draped around the scene, and one tree was festooned with climbing staples leading the way up, up, and more up to something like a thousand million feet.
Riiiighht.
I am not generally afraid of heights. I gleefully zip lined my way through a Kauai rainforest after all. Of course, we were encouraged not to do anything we didn’t feel comfortable doing. Because being the only one out of a group of 12, including your manager and the CEO, not participating is really comfortable like and doesn’t make you stand out aaat allll.
I stepped up to help on the belay team. I watched as one by one my coworkers strapped on a harness and helmet, and monkeyed their way up the tree, thirty feet up, step out onto the log and then jump off to be hauled down by the belay team. Some were a bit shaky, but they all had big smiles on their faces as they came down. I made up my mind to do the challenge after my older coworker who has COPD got suited up (he didn't make it all the way through, but it was awesome to see him get most of the way up the tree). I mean, really. How could I not? Plus I was intrigued. Could I do it?
So I get into the harness and WHAM. My brain decides to cry, baby, cry. I stepped up to the tree and started up without anyone except the guide seeing my wobbly bottom lip. The higher I got, the feeling of, not fear, but what I can only describe as sadness, overtook me. I got to the point where I had to transfer from the tree to the log and I made a shaky transition. And the tears came even harder. And then everyone below saw, or heard, what was going on. The chatter stopped and I heard someone say, “Oh! She’s crying!” Great. Now I’m crying thirty feet up in the air and people know it.
I remember thinking, what the hell? Why is my stomach not in knots but I’m snuffling like Colin after I’ve told him no more chocolate? My thoughts were clear and I was aware that I was out of sync. I wanted to reign it in. And I wanted to stop and sob my heart out. I tried to breathe it out. Just like I tell Colin – like blowing big bubbles. I even looked around up in the trees. Very beautiful. Didn’t stop the sobbing snot from flowing. I made it to the middle of the log before I was ready to come down.
The emotional overload cleared out as soon as I was on the ground and feeling raathaa stupid for crying in front of my coworkers. They did nothing to make me feel bad or pitied, for which I’m grateful. I got hugs and a lot of "way to gos." Someone asked me if I felt peer pressured into climbing. And I wasn’t really, not from them. In the past year or so I have been trying to face my fears – I figure if I’m so scared to do something, like being on camera or the radio, it’s the universe telling me it’s time to learn something. I’m glad I did it, have no freaking idea what happened up there. I think I’ve been holding in just a wee bit of stress and frustration that needed to come out in an unfortunately public place.
I would do it again, preferably with family or friends. But stick some Kleenex in my pocket wontcha?
Tuesday, October 07, 2008
Busy days
Beware of what you wish for...
Remember when I was all, "I'm booorreed. I need to be chaleeennnged. Wahhh wahhh."
Uh. Yea. The next time I do that, tell me to shut it. I've been more busy in the last month than I've been in two years. Mostly in a good way since credit unions are getting a lot of great press right now and I've been on the radio several times doing the PR thang. But some of this is just stupid busy stuff.
And add in a nearly three-year old who is getting more and more mischevious and cute (oh lord,the cuteness is just going to kill me), and a hubby who is wondering where the heck his wife is and I wouldn't say that there is a great balance going on right now.
I'll be gone the rest of this week at our annual meeting, so Rob will be on double duty for the next few days. Then on Monday we have an all-day staff retreat at a freakin ropes course of all places. A ropes course? How corporate rah rah can you get? We were told to consider this a "gift to ourselves" from the company. Fug that. If I want to give myself a gift it is more likely to come in the form of a goody bag from a craft store and it sure as hell isn't going to be found in the woods on the top of a pillar.
I just had to sign a crazy waiver that basically says I'm up shit creek if me or one of my coworkers makes a stupid move. Oh, and someone may end up touching me inappropriately - maybe to boost my hiney up over some log wall. But hey, it's all in the name of teamwork.
Remember when I was all, "I'm booorreed. I need to be chaleeennnged. Wahhh wahhh."
Uh. Yea. The next time I do that, tell me to shut it. I've been more busy in the last month than I've been in two years. Mostly in a good way since credit unions are getting a lot of great press right now and I've been on the radio several times doing the PR thang. But some of this is just stupid busy stuff.
And add in a nearly three-year old who is getting more and more mischevious and cute (oh lord,the cuteness is just going to kill me), and a hubby who is wondering where the heck his wife is and I wouldn't say that there is a great balance going on right now.
I'll be gone the rest of this week at our annual meeting, so Rob will be on double duty for the next few days. Then on Monday we have an all-day staff retreat at a freakin ropes course of all places. A ropes course? How corporate rah rah can you get? We were told to consider this a "gift to ourselves" from the company. Fug that. If I want to give myself a gift it is more likely to come in the form of a goody bag from a craft store and it sure as hell isn't going to be found in the woods on the top of a pillar.
I just had to sign a crazy waiver that basically says I'm up shit creek if me or one of my coworkers makes a stupid move. Oh, and someone may end up touching me inappropriately - maybe to boost my hiney up over some log wall. But hey, it's all in the name of teamwork.
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