I've been having a lot of conversations inside my head lately. Some of them have been lamenting that I don't have anything interesting or funny to blog about. And that I have let this whole entire thing slide - not only my writing but my involvement with everyone else. But I've decided to put all that aside and remember why I started doing this. For myself. To write about things that I am feeling, to write about my kids and provide memories for them and for the Mr. and me to reminisce about. So that's what I'm going to do today.
We had a sitter for Wonderboy last week as his camp had ended. She was telling me a few days after the fact that they had been going out and she was worried about not having a key to the house. WB explained that they could get back in using the code on the garage. He said, "You just press 1-2-3-4 and tic-tac-toe." To which the sitter thought, "That is some funky code! Why don't you show me." So he pressed the four key code and hit the pound key, #, or "tic-tac-toe."
One of the days I brought WB to work with me. He is old enough now that he can wander around, with certain guidelines, and I don't worry about him. At one point I realized I hadn't seen him in a bit so I went to see where he was. Turns out he was sitting at the outside restaurant bar regaling the staff with his usual aplomb. Telling them all about how much he had grown this year (we recently went for his 7(!)yr doctor appt) and his taste in music, heavy metal, (thanks to the Mr for that one.) I received many nice compliments the next day on what a good kid he was, and how well behaved - that's the best music to my ears.
Seriously - I don't want Pixie to get any older. When I think about the fact that within 10 years she will be a cranky, moody teenager I cringe. And if she is anything like I was? I'm doomed. She is kind of all about Mommy right now and I'd be lying if I said I didn't love it. As we lie in bed together at night after her story, "just for a bit," she will cup my chin with her little hand, look me in the eyes and say, "I just love you Mama." Perfect.
I don't want her to stop saying "alligator" when she means "elevator." I don't want her to grow out of starting almost every sentence with, "Well, I just...." Okay, maybe grammatically speaking it would be best if grew out of that one. I know each stage will be new and exciting, minus the teenage years, and I do look forward to those - but damn, three and four have been so wonderful.
And for me. I had my first session with a therapist. I'm really happy that I took this step, I know it's something I should have done years ago, but better late then never. I'm not going to go into too much detail about it here, but I want to remember the beginning of this process.
I do want to try to catch up with my blogging friends, I will try to do so, but I know right now it is bound to be sporadic. (Whenever I hear that word I think of the line from Clueless, "Yeah, I hope not sporadically!" Oh, Brittney Murphy.)
Hope you are all well! (not sporadically!)
PS - Had to turn the word verification on - sorry. As few comments as I'm ranking these days, it's even more annoying when they turn out to be some Asian gibberish.)
