The rambling may be even more incoherent today than usual, as I spent last night and into the wee hours of the morning -- helping a retailer that I work for sometimes -- counting inventory. For someone who thrives on the strict 'sleep from 9pm to 7am' schedule, it was pretty brutal.
Actually, it wasn't so bad. (I just like to be dramatic in inconsequential ways that won't really matter in the long run or offend anyone.) I did just fine until the last part of the drive home, when I did start to get a little punchy (in the figurative sense... I wasn't throwing fists around in the car... just to be clear) and once my head hit the pillow the show was over. (Except in my dreams... I was counting inventory all night. Do you think I can put that on my timecard?)
See? There's a bit of incoherence going on around here today, to be sure.
And don't think that it's a good hair day either, because that would be a wrong assumption if I ever heard of one.
Hello, Ms. Trump. Actually, this is more of the Anti-Trump hairstyle. Her hair seems to want to all come forward into her face. It's when we comb it backward -- against its will -- when the Donald Trump look comes about. I'll have to show you sometime.
To be fair, this was taken sometime last week. Since then I gave her bangs a little trim and now she's looking a little more civilized...
Ah yes. Very stylish.
So if she's not the one with the bad hair day and Little Blue Eyes doesn't hardly have enough hair to be the one with the bad hair day, who exactly is the one having the bad hair day?
Yep, it's me. And don't think I'll be showing you any pictures of it either.
When I awoke this morning the full effect of my late night took hold. I compensated for the watered-down-coffee shade of my skin by consuming a cup of definitely not-watered-down-coffee and began my day. After all, the kids weren't up until 3 a.m., and if the kids don't sleep in, momma don't sleep in neither. Miss Peaches must have sensed my dreariness, however, because she pointed at my coffee cup and said, "Coffee! Drink it!"
She's very intuitive.
Since today is sort of a day 'off' for me -- whatever that means... as most stay-at-home-moms can attest -- and I'm so droopy-eyed, I've been lazily lurking around on the web, looking for design-inspiration from other websites and blogs. I'm getting there. It's all swirling around in my head, like little idea butterflies being ever so selective as to where they might land. One of these days I think the overall 'look' will come together. The inspiration is there... It's the time for follow-through that I'm lacking.
Maybe if I didn't babble on and on, aimlessly and without direction, I would be more efficient.
('Aimlessly' and 'without direction' mean the same thing, by the way, in case you didn't catch that. I thought it was of utmost priority that I point that out.)
Anyhow, what I mostly learned so far was that I still really like using Squarespace as my platform (is that the right word... platform?). I also learned -- by looking at examples of others that use Squarespace as their platform and looking at other websites -- that I think my classification pretty much falls into the 'redneck' category of bloggers. I'm not really finding anyone else who writes about dogs eating horse poop or poison ivy or coyote hunting. It looks as if I've unwittingly found my niche.
Eh, that's alright. I was never really one for categorizing things anyway. Or for categorizing myself.
Nobody puts baby in a corner.
Somebody should, however, put baby to bed, or at least remove the laptop from my clutches before I lose my readership forever. It's becoming evident to me now that this is likely going nowhere.
I see it all so clearly now... The lack of direction (aimlessness, if you will) has been there all along, from the very first sentence.
I'm off to search for a compass.
Oh, how I need naptime.
Not for me. No. I'm generally not a big napper. Or a little napper. Or even a cat napper, daydreamer or dreamweaver.
(I'm not really sure what a 'dreamweaver' is, but I know that I'm not one, so I feel safe in saying this.)
I'm more of a 'sleep hard from 9pm to 7am' kind of gal.
I need naptime for my children. And for the pudgy little munchkin that I also watch a couple days a week. I love them all dearly. So dearly. I love it that I get to spend my days with them. But when naptime comes (and somehow I have them all on a simultaneous napping schedule... a 3-year-old, 18-month-old and a 3-month-old... don't ask me how I happen to have this good fortune) it is utterly blissful silence.
What do I do with this blissful silence?
I sit down and write about them, of course.
Did you know that Little Blue Eyes is now 3 years old, potty trained and has the vocabulary of a thirty-nine-year-old?
Mmm hmm. That's mostly true.
O.k., o.k.... I'll come clean. The potty training is excellent, although he does still wear a pull-up to bed and pees in it at will. But he's making the choice to pee in it, which is really the most important part. Just like he makes the choice to usually do his business on the toilet and is capable of putting his pants back on all by himself.
I said he's capable of it. I didn't say he always does it... The putting back on of the pants part. Much to the dismay of some of our family members and some other random friends or acquaintances or strangers.
We're working on that one.
As for the vocabulary... I may be stretching it a bit. But he is a very good little conversationalist and he talks to his aunties on the phone (real or imaginary) daily.
He is and always has been our punkin' wunkin', our snuggle chub, our monkeyshine.
Burst with pride.
O.k., I'm ready to continue on...
How 'bout this little character? Note that she is now in pigtails! Or maybe they're more like 'piglet' tails. Miss Peaches is full of the dickins. Walking, running, climbing and TALKING. Talking like nobody's business.
Saying things like have it, get it, start it, and dump out... She's bossy.
She also says please, thank you, excuse me, bless you and everyone's favorite, how 'bout? She's polite.
Then there's hold you, love you, kiss and sorry. She's sweet.
Like every woman, she's got a lot of layers.
My own personal favorite was a few weeks ago when she said, "Loves me." I didn't understand her at first, so I said, "What?" She continued... "Jesus.... loves me.... for the..... Bible..... tells me...... SO!"
She's also still really loud.
Luckily she's tempered her outbursts a bit and seems to have grown out of a phase of shrieking -- loudly and really high-pitched, of course -- when she didn't approve of something. We're hoping we don't revisit that phase.
And we're still hoping that she uses her amplitude for something bigger and better one day, like being an opera singer or an auctioneer.
A mother can dream.
But not for too long 'cause I've got sleepin' babies and I'm burnin' daylight. Catch ya later!