The favorite red shirt...
... goes great with the favorite blue leggings, favorite lavender skirt, and favorite black snow boots...
... and the favorite dancing partner.
Showing posts with label Hazel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hazel. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 07, 2010
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Thursday, January 07, 2010
She's good at so many things.
Jonah and Mary-Beth were playing "Don't Laugh," a game during which you try to keep a straight face while the other person tells you not to laugh.
It's harder than it sounds. Go ahead and try it. Don't laugh! Don't do it. Don't you laugh!
See?
So Jonah had just lost at his turn and, at the end of his laughing fit, said, "Y'know, Hazel is REALLY good at this game."
Meet Hazel:
It's harder than it sounds. Go ahead and try it. Don't laugh! Don't do it. Don't you laugh!
See?
So Jonah had just lost at his turn and, at the end of his laughing fit, said, "Y'know, Hazel is REALLY good at this game."
Meet Hazel:
Friday, May 04, 2007
Time to feed the fish
Have you ever felt like you've no identity inside the four walls of your home? Yeah, me too. What's more, I'm getting the distinct feeling I'm trapped here. Just thinking about my inability to venture beyond my own doormat for anything besides the grocery or visits to the orthodontist has me feeling suffocated.
I heard this song on a Scrubs (Season 2 disc 2) re-run the other day. I don't know what it's called, but the tag line throughout the song was "I'm waiting for my real life to start." It was part of a little dream sequence in which a dying woman was singing to her friends and family about what was coming in her very near future. The arrangement was smooth and reflective, almost had a mournful quality to it without being sad. Anyway, as I sat there listening, I realized I was almost jealous of that woman. Not jealous of the fact that she was dying, God no, but that she had something different to look forward to.
I know. Boo hoo Dellaina, y'big whiner. But wait, this'll all make sense. I hope. I'm still shaking it out myself.
See, it's like this. I sometimes feel like I'm in my own little ranch house-shaped fishbowl, looking out at the world from my kitchen window... or from my minivan windows... or from the pediatrician's window... Like there's this whole big world thing out there and I'm trying to figure out a way to reach out and touch it without getting scooped up by the Laundry Net or the Dishwasher Net or the Poopy Diaper Net or the Tantrum Net and wind up plooped back into the bowl.
Is there more to it than this? Am I only Dan's wife, Ashley, Jonah and Mary-Beth's mother, Hazel's source of kibble and water, and various other roles I play during the day? What part of all this is me? At what point do they become an apron I can hang up at the end of the day so I can wear my own uniform?
I can't believe I'm saying this at my age, but it's like I'm waiting for my real life to start. And since I like to play my own devil's advocate I have to ask myself: do I even know what that means? What exactly am I waiting for? And would I recognize it once it started? Would I be happy then? And what exactly does "then" look like? Weird? I'm not unhappy, but I'm sure not feeling like "a reliable and useful engine" as Sir Topham Hat would say.
Dammit. Even my euphemisms are from children's shows. That's sick, man.
I've recently told someone that she's got a responsibility to her family to make life happen for her and her children, that to sit back and let life happen to her is unacceptable and inexcusable in her situation. Someone had to say it and we all know I'm okay with that person being me. But now, faced with having to eat my own words, I'm wondering how to practice what I preach but without hurting my family in the process.
I don't want to spend my time feeling like the invisible wife in that commercial who goes unnoticed through her home fixing this and folding that. And I'm almost positive it's not on the shoulders of those I live with to make this go away. I need to fix this myself, I know that, but somehow without neglecting my family. See, I really do love and adore them, and I wouldn't want to be out in the world somewhere, feeling liberated and autonomous, but ignoring my husband and children. Honestly, given the alternatives, I'd much rather be here in my fish bowl and be Dan's wife, Ashley, Jonah and Mary-Beth's mother, Hazel's source of kibble and water. Is there truly no way to do both?
I have about 30 regular readers who most likely have been there. So tell me folks, what's the solution? I can't be the only one to sense that stepping off your doormat and into the world without looking back won't solve the problem. Is there a way to claim my own identity without sacrificing my family on the altar of Dellaina's Lib?
I heard this song on a Scrubs (Season 2 disc 2) re-run the other day. I don't know what it's called, but the tag line throughout the song was "I'm waiting for my real life to start." It was part of a little dream sequence in which a dying woman was singing to her friends and family about what was coming in her very near future. The arrangement was smooth and reflective, almost had a mournful quality to it without being sad. Anyway, as I sat there listening, I realized I was almost jealous of that woman. Not jealous of the fact that she was dying, God no, but that she had something different to look forward to.
I know. Boo hoo Dellaina, y'big whiner. But wait, this'll all make sense. I hope. I'm still shaking it out myself.
See, it's like this. I sometimes feel like I'm in my own little ranch house-shaped fishbowl, looking out at the world from my kitchen window... or from my minivan windows... or from the pediatrician's window... Like there's this whole big world thing out there and I'm trying to figure out a way to reach out and touch it without getting scooped up by the Laundry Net or the Dishwasher Net or the Poopy Diaper Net or the Tantrum Net and wind up plooped back into the bowl.
Is there more to it than this? Am I only Dan's wife, Ashley, Jonah and Mary-Beth's mother, Hazel's source of kibble and water, and various other roles I play during the day? What part of all this is me? At what point do they become an apron I can hang up at the end of the day so I can wear my own uniform?
I can't believe I'm saying this at my age, but it's like I'm waiting for my real life to start. And since I like to play my own devil's advocate I have to ask myself: do I even know what that means? What exactly am I waiting for? And would I recognize it once it started? Would I be happy then? And what exactly does "then" look like? Weird? I'm not unhappy, but I'm sure not feeling like "a reliable and useful engine" as Sir Topham Hat would say.
Dammit. Even my euphemisms are from children's shows. That's sick, man.
I've recently told someone that she's got a responsibility to her family to make life happen for her and her children, that to sit back and let life happen to her is unacceptable and inexcusable in her situation. Someone had to say it and we all know I'm okay with that person being me. But now, faced with having to eat my own words, I'm wondering how to practice what I preach but without hurting my family in the process.
I don't want to spend my time feeling like the invisible wife in that commercial who goes unnoticed through her home fixing this and folding that. And I'm almost positive it's not on the shoulders of those I live with to make this go away. I need to fix this myself, I know that, but somehow without neglecting my family. See, I really do love and adore them, and I wouldn't want to be out in the world somewhere, feeling liberated and autonomous, but ignoring my husband and children. Honestly, given the alternatives, I'd much rather be here in my fish bowl and be Dan's wife, Ashley, Jonah and Mary-Beth's mother, Hazel's source of kibble and water. Is there truly no way to do both?
I have about 30 regular readers who most likely have been there. So tell me folks, what's the solution? I can't be the only one to sense that stepping off your doormat and into the world without looking back won't solve the problem. Is there a way to claim my own identity without sacrificing my family on the altar of Dellaina's Lib?
Monday, September 26, 2005
There's nothing quite like...
...the smell of coffee and toast in the morning.
...the sound of your kids laughing and giggling together.
...being greeted at the door by your dog, who undoubtedly did nothing all day except sit and stare at the door waiting for you to appear.
...finally turning onto your own street after a long road trip.
...finding money in the laundry, in a jacket, in the couch.
...Jonah outside, pressing his face up against the screen door so that his eyebrows are pushed up into his forehead, his nose looks like a pig's snout and his teeth are bared, yelling "Momma! Momma!"
...new car smell.
...getting a card or letter in the mail.
...the smell of a brand new Longaberger basket, fresh out of its wrapper.
...cheering with Ashley when she does "the perfect, I mean the sweetest cartwheel EV-ver!"
...hot cocoa in front of a Christmas tree with your kids and family around you, 1940's Christmas music playing in the background, snow falling outside.
...the smell of a roast in the oven on a gloomy day.
...the blessed sound of silence when the babies quit crying. *sigh*
...finding a rose from your honey in your car.
...spending an hour on the phone with your bestest bestest girlfriend talking about absolutely nothing, laughing so hard you spit coffee out your nose, and feeling like you could take on the world when you hang up!
...spending an entire Saturday on the couch watching movies, complete with popcorn, blankets and hot cocoa.
...THUNDERSTORMS! The bigger and louder the better!
...the perfect hair day, when it also happens to be a perfect make-up and clothes day.
...realizing you have so much to be thankful for and deciding it doesn't really matter that your windshield is cracked, your crows feet look more like eagle claws, and you're carrying way too much junk in your trunk.
Thank you God for all You've given me when I least deserved it, when it delighted me most, and in spite of the fact that I appreciated it very little.
...the sound of your kids laughing and giggling together.
...being greeted at the door by your dog, who undoubtedly did nothing all day except sit and stare at the door waiting for you to appear.
...finally turning onto your own street after a long road trip.
...finding money in the laundry, in a jacket, in the couch.
...Jonah outside, pressing his face up against the screen door so that his eyebrows are pushed up into his forehead, his nose looks like a pig's snout and his teeth are bared, yelling "Momma! Momma!"
...new car smell.
...getting a card or letter in the mail.
...the smell of a brand new Longaberger basket, fresh out of its wrapper.
...cheering with Ashley when she does "the perfect, I mean the sweetest cartwheel EV-ver!"
...hot cocoa in front of a Christmas tree with your kids and family around you, 1940's Christmas music playing in the background, snow falling outside.
...the smell of a roast in the oven on a gloomy day.
...the blessed sound of silence when the babies quit crying. *sigh*
...finding a rose from your honey in your car.
...spending an hour on the phone with your bestest bestest girlfriend talking about absolutely nothing, laughing so hard you spit coffee out your nose, and feeling like you could take on the world when you hang up!
...spending an entire Saturday on the couch watching movies, complete with popcorn, blankets and hot cocoa.
...THUNDERSTORMS! The bigger and louder the better!
...the perfect hair day, when it also happens to be a perfect make-up and clothes day.
...realizing you have so much to be thankful for and deciding it doesn't really matter that your windshield is cracked, your crows feet look more like eagle claws, and you're carrying way too much junk in your trunk.
Thank you God for all You've given me when I least deserved it, when it delighted me most, and in spite of the fact that I appreciated it very little.
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