pov*, I suppose

Checking through my email just now, I found this gem:

I know some of you have seen this on my facebook status, but I wanted to share it with those who haven’t. I only wish I could take credit for it, but I “borrowed” it from a friend. I simply can’t get over the truth it holds while at the same time causing me to chuckle out loud each time I read it!!

Hope it makes you chuckle/think too!!

Love y’all!! EE

The attached quote:
"Political correctness is a doctrine, fostered by a delusional, illogical minority, and rabidly promoted by an unscrupulous mainstream media, which holds forth the proposition that it is entirely possible to pick up a turd by the clean end." - Unknown

My response:
Certainly made me think and what I came up with was this: Somewhere, someone had to be the first person to look at that thing that had just fallen out of a chicken's butt and think "Hmmm, I wonder how this tastes fried?". Perhaps it is impossible to pick up a turd by the clean end. I'd rather get my hands dirty, focusing on the possibilities that I might uncover than hide behind the relative safety of the status quo.


It's really all in how you look at it, isn't it?


*point of view



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good morning, indeed

If you've spent more than 3 seconds with me, you know I'm a creature of habit and it should come as no surprise to learn that we have a specific routine that we go through most mornings. I say most because although Mama likes her routine, there is nothing quite as unpredictable as a 4 year-old with his mind made up to do things his own way, whichever way the winds of preschool rationality might be blowing at that very instant. Mostly we deal. Boundaries and structure and expectations, oh my! keep us more or less within the box of normal-to-us (aka that comfortable zone wherein Mama doesn't freak out too much).

Most mornings look like this:

Josh gets up and the countdown begins. Sometimes I'll get another 3 minutes, sometimes another 15 before I hear the unmistakable smwoosh-smwoosh-smwoosh of footy pajamas scuffling across the carpet. On a good (dry) morning, I can pull up the covers just enough that Aaron can scoot in and then we have a 5-15 minute snuggle before he can't stand it anymore and then we're off and running. Other mornings involve a jammy -n- pullup change first and then all bets are off re: snuggle time. Josh leaves, we get dressed, breakfast, blah, blah, blah, morning routine, Mommy why does (this) and where does (that) and how do (those), and then it's lunchtime. Unless it's a school day and then there's a whole 'nother set of possibilities. But for the most part, there's comfortable regularity. And regularity, much like my morning cup of coffee, is critical for setting the tone for a day of general happiness and unburned dinner.
There are, however occasional exceptions. This morning looked like this:
Josh got up and left for work early. 45 minutes later, smwoosh-smwoosh-smwoosh, butt pat to check for dryness, covers lifted and snuggling denied with a sweet little whisper: "Mommy, I don't want to go to sleep again." Whaa? "Mommy, I want to make breakfast." Ugh. Well, he did go to bed early last night and didn't eat much dinner. He probably is hungry. "Okay, Bug, what do you want for breakfast?" "No, Mommy, I want to make breakfast. For me and you to eat in your bed. Are you hungry for breakfast?" Awww! "Sure, Bug. You know what sounds really good? How about a banana?" "And, and a cookie?" "Ooh, that sounds delicious! Go grab a banana and a cookie and we'll have breakfast in bed." Shweew! If I find PBS or Nick Jr. before he gets back up here, I can snooze for at least another 15 minutes before he runs out of banana and cookie. Glad Josh made oatmeal cookies this weekend. That's practically the same as cereal, right? Now where is that remote... Meanwhile, downstairs, I can clearly identify the sound of the cookie jar lid being set on the counter top. Seconds go by, then hmmm. Was that the sound of refrigerator door opening and shutting? Metal crashes against metal. Crap. I better get down there. Silence. A little too silent. Door/drawer slams. Cookie jar lid again... this is taking far longer than grabbing a banana off the cabinet and one cookie should. Where are my socks? Brr! It's cold out here. Better grab a sweatshirt, too. Joiiiing! What is he doing down there? Oh wait, here he comes. Stomp, stomp, stomp, smwoosh-smwoosh-smwoosh "Here's your breakfast, Mommy!"
Banana and cookie, as discussed. No, it's not a fancy oatmeal cookie.
Probably no nutritional value to it whatsoever.


And inside?

That's one carefully cut apple (incisions courtesy of his butter knife),
and four blueberries (that's two for you and two for me, Mommy),
generously drizzled with honey.

"But it needs to be cooked, Mommy. Remember? I'm the chef. I'm the one who makes things. But you are the cook. So let's go cook it. Come on, Mommy."

So we did. And let me tell you, it was delicious.


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resolutions: less

  • Less "never" and more "better late than". Just because I didn't get the thankyou's out for Aaron's birthday doesn't mean you don't deserve one. Is there a tactful yet endearing way to grovel?

  • Less "yes" to everybody else so that I have more time available to say "yes" to my Most Important People. **MIP status subject to random and arbitrary change at a moment's notice, highly dependent on what I'm being asked to do and whether or not I like your tone.

  • Less reading between the lines. I'm horrible at guessing games and even worse at drawing. Drawing conclusions is a guaranteed disaster and even if I get it right, I don't usually know what to do with it. If it's that important, you'll eventually come out and say it.

  • Less gossip. If I wouldn't say it with the person present, it's not worth saying.

  • Less time spent asking questions that I already know the answers too. Especially when I know those answers are just going to get me riled up. I'm not going to change your mind and I'm fairly comfortable with the way mine is fitting right now.

  • Less MeTime = Me+TechnologyTime. More often than not I'm on here to escape my status by checking on yours. Messy things tend to happen when I'm focused on what you're doing instead of watching where I'm going. Messy, messy things.

  • Less in my mouth. Less on my hips. More (time) on my feet.

  • Less talking. More listening. Even if no one else is talking. Especially when no one else is talking

  • Less stuff to sort. Physically and mentally. Use it or dump it.

  • Less watching. More doing. Even if I do it badly.

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blips

Mommy, I am going to make you my famous peanut butter and jelly water now.

Mmm, that sounds delicious.
Yes, it is. And it is very hard to make.
It is?
Yes, it is. It is very hard to make because it is water. So it doesn't have very many 'gredients. So you have to get it just right.
Thinking: Hmmm. Seems like someone else had a similar problem once. Except that wasn't about making something else into water, that was about making water into something else. So this is kind of the opposite. Hey wait, does that make my kid is the Anti-Christ?
Aloud
: That does sound difficult.
Thinking:
I just mentally compared my kid to the Anti-Christ. And it didn't really phase me. What, exactly, does that mean?
@@@

Yesterday I received that horoscope email that's been making the rounds. It begins:
AN ACCURATE 2010 HOROSCOPE
This is the real deal. Try ignoring it, and the first thing you'll notice is having a horrible day starting tomorrow morning . . . and it only gets worse from there.
Then
(blah blah blah a bunch of stuff about everyone else blah blah blah)
AQUARIUS - Does It In The Water (Once. Didn't like it.)
Trustworthy. (Sure!)
Attractive. (Thanks!)
Great kisser. (Well, I wouldn't be the one to judge.)
One of a kind, loves being in long-term relationships. (I guess 14 years counts as "long-term.)
Tries hard. (Too hard, some would say.)
Will take on any project. (Yup.)
Proud of themselves in whatever they do. (Say what now?)
Messy and unorganized. (Wait, I think I might have skipped a line... Is this still Aquarius?)
Procrastinators. (Got me there.)
Great lovers, when they're not sleeping. (...)
Extreme thinkers. (And hence the therapist.)
Loves their pets usually more than their family. (Mmmm, no. Or, poor family if that's the case because the poor cat has been on a steady diet of "just enough attention so that she won't poop on the carpet" since the kid was born.)
Can be VERY irritating to others when they try to explain or tell a story. (Dear god,yes. I annoy myself when telling a story. Tangent, anyone?)
Unpredictable. (Probably not as much as I like to think I am.)
Will exceed your expectations. (Depends on where the bar is set.)
Not a Fighter but will Knock your lights out... (More than likely because I was trying to be cool and toss something nonchalantly across the room to you.)
2 years of bad luck if you do not forward. (Come on now, who believes this crap?)
And so I casually hit the delete button. But not before I read the "bottom line"
1-3 people= 1 minute of luck
4-7 people= 1 hour of luck
8-12 people = 1 day of luck
13-17 people = 1 week of luck
18-22 people = 1 month of luck
23-27 people = 3 months of luck
28- 32 people = 7 months of luck
33-37 people = 1 year of luck
38 and more = a very lucky life!
...and forwarded it to three of my alternate email addresses because somewhere in my brain it made sense that although I don't for a second believe that I might have bad luck for breaking an email chain,maybe I do believe it a teeny tiny bit and just in case I should probably send it along to the minimum number of people necessary (although now that I look at it I could have gotten away with just one of those email addresses since the actual bare minimum is 1). You know, because the internet won't know that those addresses are all mine and then I've technically followed the instructions even though I didn't really. And now, guess what? I'm stuck in an endless loop of my own illogical making because when I checked my email this morning? I've now received that email THREE. MORE. TIMES. So now I either have to really ignore it or go on and do something about it and this could very well be what it meant when it said "it only gets worse from there".

You aren't laughing at me, are you?

@@@

My siblings and I draw names at Christmas time.

Each year a different sibling has the responsibility of drawing and notifying the givers/recipients of their respective names.

I drew the names for 2009.

I posted the necessary information on our family blog. In March.

In October, I began my normal Christmas shopping routine. That is, I began thinking that I should probably start thinking about what I was going to give the sibling I had drawn for myself to give to.

In November I began bugging my little brother about what he would like for Christmas. He emailed me back with a fabulous little list of his top wants.

In December I pulled out his list, crossed my fingers that I still had time to get a package to Afghanistan before Christmas, and crossed him off my list.

Everyone had a very merry Christmas. Including my younger sister in Indiana. The one who I was supposed to be sending a Christmas gift to this year. Hey, sis, how does Christmas in late January/February sound to you?


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