Declaration of Independence

You know it's not going to be a good day when your seven-year-old declares her independence.  Little sis was dressed and ready this morning before she was, so I sent her downstairs and told her she could pick a TV show.  Normally, that's not a problem because she'll pick something they both like, but today, she chose Little Bear. 

The older one took it as a personal offense: "I'm too big to watch Nick Jr!  I don't like Little Bear!  Can't it be my turn?" (howling all the while). 

Me: "No, honey, it can't be your turn.  There's no time.  You can have your turn tomorrow."

Her: "But I don't want to watch Little Bear!"

Me: "So I guess you'll have to eat breakfast in the dining room and take your turn tomorrow."

Her: (after more howling) "Well then FINE!  I declare my independence!"

I'm not sure what exactly that independence entailed, and I'm not sure she did either.  It must have made her feel good to say it, though, because she finally stopped screeching and ate her breakfast.

Meanwhile, we realized that Little Sis seemed to have lost her favorite Spongebob winter cap.  Picture it: bright yellow Spongebob face in all his glory, topped with a matching bright yellow pom-pom and tied with bright yellow braids (which, to her, are her hair, of course).  The hat was not in the box we use to house winter gear -- not sure why I even bothered to look there because I'm the only one who ever puts things away in it.  It was not in her book bag, either. 

I asked if maybe she had lost it at school but she said she hadn't worn it yesterday.  Her independent sister claimed she had and WWIII broke out about that. 

So, to calm things, I suggested that she look for Spongebob in the lost and found box at school and that I'd continue the search at home.  Apparently the thought of this was just too much -- she broke down sobbing and absolutely refused to get on the bus!  All the other kids had taken their seats by this point, and there's my five-year-old, holding onto me like a spider monkey and crying her eyes out about Spongebob.

I carried her aboard, plopped her in her seat and kissed her on her head before leaving.

The hat?  In the back seat of my car.  Naturally.

I'm contemplating my own declaration of independence but I'm not certain anyone would notice.

I Got Pinned

Have you been invited?  No?  You don't know what you're missing!

Pinterest is the latest craze in the social networking sphere.  How to describe it?  I'd say it's a mix between scrapbooking, looking through magazines and a touch of crack.  Yep - crack.  That's how addictive it is.

Enter the world of Pinterest and suddenly you're finding unusual appetizers for your next gathering, cool ideas to keep the kids occupied on rainy days, a great gift for your hard-to-shop-for-mother-in-law (man, that's a lot of hyphens!) and design ideas for your dream home.  Pinterest is a way of sharing things found elsewhere on the Internet - from blogs, online catalogs, personal photos, etc. and it's catching on like wildfire!

Once in, you begin "pinning" the things you find to your "boards" to categorize them, in a way creating little electronic scrapbooks for future reference.  Through the power of Facebook and Twitter, you can share your pins with others and "friend" or "follow" others to exchange ideas.

Jump in, check it out.  But it's crazy-addictive, so don't say I didn't warn you!

What's A Blog To Do?

My blog is floundering, not by any fault of its own.  I think it just hasn't matured yet.  It's struggling to find out who it is - what it wants to be when it grows up.  It's having an identity crisis of sorts. 

And I, its mother, haven't been very attentive.  I'm busy, you know?  As I tell my kids, I'm one mommy with two hands.  (Octopi have it so easy!)  So while I'm working/tending kids/going to lessons/doing my school work, my blog waits patiently.

I'm not a Julie and Julia kind of girl -- I don't have the time to commit to creating gourmet meals every night for the sake of a blog.  The Happiness Project's been done.  And frankly, I'm not in this for the attention.  I've done PR and I've had enough of the limelight, thankyouverymuch.

Maybe it'll grow into a novel.  Maybe it'll spur creativity in other areas.  Maybe it'll act as therapy!  Who knows?

I'm not sure what this blog will be but I'm sure that, if I keep at it, it will tell me eventually.  Just be patient and enjoy the ride.

Back to School

I've wanted to go back to school pretty much since I graduated.  I love school -- the books, the smell of chalk, the term papers.  (Hey, I've already admitted to being a geek!)  I think that's why I became a teacher.

Today, many years and several career changes later, I find myself back in school.  It took all my courage and then some to make the leap.  Funny, isn't it, how times change?  All of a sudden, this former A student goodie two shoes is scared out of her wits in going back!  And funnier still -- I've been part of this program now for a year and my stomach still does a flip-flop when it comes time to hit send to submit the latest assignment.  I did just that a few moments ago: said a little prayer and sent my paper off into the black hole of the Internet, hopefully to be received lovingly by my faceless professor at the other end.

So why the anxiety?  I've been a marketing communications professional for more than a decade -- plenty of time to bring ideas to the table and strength to the program I'm in.  I think the online factor is part of the problem.  While we do get to "chat" and "connect" in class, it's not the classroom environment I'm accustomed to.  Maybe it's the lack of chalk?  Who knows.

But I think the issue is deeper.  Somewhere in the ten plus years of being out in the world trying to prove myself in being able to do something I wasn't formally trained to do (my degree is in English and I'm certified to teach grades 7-12, but I work in a marketing communications department), I lost my classroom confidence.  Now, in my online classroom setting among other professionals in the field, most of whom were formally trained, I find myself the shy kid in the back, afraid to raise her hand.

It's still the start of a new semester.  I go through these jitters for a while until I start to feel comfortable in the class.  I guess you're never too old to learn something new, or to feel like a kid again.

Sick Momma

How do you keep all the balls in the air when all you want to do is curl up into a ball yourself?  It hit me on Saturday afternoon and I've been down for the count since.  Tried to take a much-needed sick day today but my little one ended up on the sick list with me.  To her credit, she was very good: she played quietly and even allowed me to take two naps (checking on me every few minutes to stick the thermometer in my ear...).  Needless to say, it wasn't the restful day I was hoping for.

It's amazing how quickly kids bounce back with a little Motrin.  Wish I had her energy.

And so, in the meantime, a big basket of laundry sits in the middle of the living room floor, waiting for somebody to take it upstairs and put it away.  Dusting and vacuuming wait yet another day.  The work that's piling up at work?  I'll deal with that when I can lift my head off the pillow longer than a few minutes at a time.

Lazarus

We have hermit crabs.  Four of them to be exact.  We'd much rather have a chocolate lab, I think, but thanks to my allergies to all things with fur or feathers, hermit crabs it is.

Hermit crabs have gotten much more expensive since I was a kid.  Used to be, you'd buy a crab on the boardwalk down the shore, stick it in a wire cage, and he'd live about a week -- two, if you were lucky and remembered to feed him.

Today, hermit crabs (ours, anyway) live in tricked-out habitats with a mix of coconut soil and sand, a gauge for humidity and one for temperature, and a thermostat and heat lamps to keep things at a cozy 80 degrees.  They require two types of water: salt water and dechlorinated water.  And their diet has changed, too -- no longer satisfied with those little brown pellet things, hermit crabs these days dine on a range of foods, from coconut to fresh fruits, from popcorn (yes, really!) to peanut butter.

So yesterday, as my eldest was spraying down the habitat to boost humidity, she called to me that it smelled like someone had died.  Sure enough, as I dug around to see if I could locate our four little friends, I found (gulp!) body parts -- enough to make one crab.  The kids were grossed out and ran to Daddy.  I was pretty grossed out, too, but kept digging. 

I found four live crabs and was perplexed.  This was brand-new soil that we just put in last week, so where did these body parts come from?

My husband, a Jersey shore boy, is very wise (sometimes).  He told me that all crabs shed body parts when they grow.  Really?  I figured they grew, just like our kids, in the same skin and just moved into a new house.

Sure enough, one of the crabs, "Sam" (or "Samuel" when he's feeling formal) sported a new, pink pincher that formerly was purple.

Guess we learn something every day. 

My Husband Thinks I'm Working

I'm in a master's degree program and do all my work online.  I should be working on school stuff right now, and here I sit, blogging.  Why?  I think my brain is frazzled and this is a good way to relax and maybe vent a bit.  Hmmm, a glass of wine might help, too.

I already mentioned the morning we had.  Today at work wasn't much better.  Pure craziness with no end in sight.  Our office is closed on Monday and, rather that bringing a big sigh of relief, it stresses me out because I keep thinking of the work that will continue to pile up in my absence.  Yes, really.

So I'm torn: do I do some work on my own time to catch up, or do I spend the day having fun with my kids?  My husband has to work so it'll just be the girls and me.

What I end up doing will likely be what I usually do -- spend the day with the girls and then, once I tuck them in, dive in and do some work so I'm not crazy when I return on Tuesday.

Oh wait -- I have a paper due on Monday!  What was I saying about balance?  And here I sit blogging...