Day 10 - Something I'm Afraid Of

On a serious note, I'm afraid of something happening to the kids, J or anyone in my family (in particular, Mom).

On a completely irrational note, I have a bizarre, inexplicable fear of people in gorilla suits and black holes. Seriously. Once, in high school, I went to a haunted house type of event at my school (it was a haunted tunnel, but you get the picture) and, at the end of the tunnel a freakin' giant in a gorilla suit jumped out and scared the living crap out of me. I kid you not. Turns out, it was my history teacher (who was well over 6 feet tall), but that didn't stop me from bawling like a newborn and freaking the hell out. But, my fear of people in gorilla suits was established long before that event. I just don't know where it comes from. The black hole thing I don't really understand, either. Ever since I was a kid, though, I've been terrified of being sucked into a black hole. I know that it's not possible, but it's this stupid little fear that I have. And now I've put it out there for you all the make fun of me.

Knowledge is power, people, and now you know my weak points.

Am I Sexist?

I used my new GPS the other night (and totally loved it!). As I was heading out, though, it dawned on me very quickly that, although the female voice giving me directions was quite polite, I prefer taking directions from a man. (Really, this is ironic, because I am most definitely the alpha and, in terms of going anywhere, I'm the one in charge. J hates to drive...maybe that's why the preference for a male voice since he's usually my navigator?)

When I got home J and I went through the voice options and we found a lovely male voice with a British accent that I'll be more than happy to have direct me.

ps - The friction mount is awesome!

A Brief Tour Of My Thoughts

• Jesus, I don't get enough sleep.
• I am so damn sad about recent events and don't know what to do to be of more help.
  
• The cake for the kids' party! Damnit, the cake! This thing will be my downfall. I don't really want to order one, but no one seems to want to sell me the decoration I want, so I may have to and hopefully someone will give me a straight answer tomorrow and just. sell. me. the. damn. topper. I really want to make my own Thomas cake.
• Ugh.
• If we lived at Mom's, then I could take the kids outside to play by myself and not worry about them (well, specifically the boy one) running into the street (I'd still worry, but there's so much more space at Mom's).
• I really need to get more sleep.
  
• If we lived at Mom's, I'd always be worrying about ticks.
• I now blowdry my hair in an attempt to get to bed earlier. After I shower, I used to let it airdry to a certain point, but when I'm not showering until 10 at night and it can take upwards of 3 hours for my hair to reach a point at which I can go to bed without looking like Medusa in the morning, I'm surprised it took me this long to think of this.
• Now that I'm blowdrying my hair on a regular basis, people keep asking me if I'd had it cut recently. I'm actually in desperate need of a haircut.
• Should I go to grad school? Is it worth it? Do I really want to go back to work one day? (Hint: Not so much. But, am I shortchanging myself? My kids?)
• Ugh.
• There are a ton of shows I need to catch up on on the DVR. Not enough time in the day.
  
• I need to stop it with the Easter loot (mine, not the kids. They got toys from the Easter Bunny and only one small tin of m 'n ms.). There are not enough hours in the day for me to spend in the gym to burn it all off. That said, though, food's a definite comfort at this point.
• I wonder. Can I kick my Diet Coke habit? The thought is very appealing. This is not the month to experiment, though, but maybe. Just maybe.
  
• I really want to post some pictures from the Thomas show. That was fun. The kids had a blast.
• I'm tired. Very, very tired.
• We really need to watch the movies we have taken out on Netflix. It's been months.
• I can't believe my babies are 3.
  
• I need a weekend off (I know, I know....who doesn't?!). Just someplace where I can sleep, food magically appears at my door and I don't have to do anything. It'll never happen, though.
• Ugh.

And that concludes the abbreviated, though circuitous, tour of my brain.

Thank you so much for browsing Heather's mind. Please wait for the ride to come to a full and complete stop and then exit to the left.

It's Getting To Be That Time Of Year

For Christmas 2006, I - insane woman that I am - hand stamped over 60 cards. I was bound and determined to send out just the right picture of the Muffins to commemorate their first Christmas. Now, I'm not overly creative when it comes to the whole cardmaking/stamping thing, so I stamped "love" "joy" "peace" and "hope" around the perimeter of the outside of the card and then simply stamped "believe" on the inside. This may not sound like a lot...but I also did it in alternating red/green colors and would you believe how many times you have to use the letter "e" to do those words? (Yep, that's right...7, if I count correctly.) Add in the fact that I write personal messages in each card and it was a lot of work, but when we finally captured the most perfect photo of the kids and the cards turned out beautifully. I'd do it all over again (of course, that's when the kids were pretty much immobile, so I actually could do something like that).

Last year, it was a bit more difficult to get a good shot of the kids actually even remotely near one another and both looking at the camera at the same time so, after much internal debate, I opted for this. I'm generally not a fan of thattype of photo card, but the kids pretty much left me with no option (and look at how little hair Ella had! I thought she was going to be bald on top forever!). I had the photo cards printed up, but I still inserted them into a traditional Christmas card and wrote personal messages.

This year, I'm fairly confident that I've already got the perfect Christmas card photo. Now...the question is do I try to hand stamp another 60+ cards (with a saying more complex than '06's) or merely print the pictures and put them into the cards I'd already purchased (which can always be held for next year)?

Decisions, decisions.

What's In A Name?

Growing up, my mother always expected our friends to call her "Mrs. Ourlastname." I never really thought much about it and always called my friends' parents "Mr. and Mrs. Theirlastname." ( The only exception being my former best friend's parents, whom I called "Mom" and "Dad," and she in turn called my mother "Mom.")

It took nearly a year of my going out with one boyfriend before I was comfortable calling his parents by their first names, which they pretty much had to insist that I do. Even my in-laws...whose own son calls them by their first names (which I'm still rather incredulous about)...after more than 12 years I still bristle at the familiarity of using their first names (although, I would feel even more uncomfortable calling them "Mom" or "Dad"...I've always felt that the people who married into my family got off lucky, because my mother's name is Nancy and she is Nana to all of the grandchildren...so the in-laws just get to call her "Nan" and it has a way of not seeming too familiar, but very familial - if that makes any sense).

Essentially, I was raised to be polite, but to also expect politeness in return.

Last week, J and I were watching an episode of Doctor Who and the crux of it was that a group of witches (who had been unwittingly summoned by Shakespeare in his grief over the death of his son) could only be banished if, initially, they were named and, ultimately, as Shakespeare found the right words to send them back into exile. It made me think about the power of names and how I absolutely hatehatehate it when someone I don't know uses my first name. It's so uncomfortable.

When I used to work in retail, and later in a bank, they encouraged us to use the customer's first name as often as possible. I had a hard time with it, I'll admit. At the bank, it was a little easier because we did have regulars who came in, sometimes on a daily basis, so it seemed more logical to be more familiar with them. In retail though? I just couldn't do it. Nothing like taking someone's check or credit card and awkwardly glancing at the person's name and trying to work it into "you have a nice day, enterfirstnamehere" without it seeming forced. Once, at Sam's Club, they had a little plastic sign hanging beneath the cash register that said something along the lines of "This dollar is yours if I fail to call you by your name!" I told the cashier that I would give him a dollar to not call me by my first name. He didn't quite know what to make of that, but he didn't use my name.

Call me "miss," call me "ma'am," hell, you can even call me crazy; but, unless you know me, please don't call me Heather.

More About Me

Cecily did this meme on Friday and, rather than tagging someone in particular, said that anyone who read her could consider themselves to be tagged. Having completely drawn a blank about what to write tonight, here I go...

List 7 random or weird things about yourself:

~ Before the kids were born, I wouldn't get out of bed if the last digit on the clock wasn't a 5 or a 0. If I missed it, I'd wait until the next one. Yes, this sometimes made me dangerously close to being late for work. Now, I don't even look at the clock when someone wakes up.

~ Up until a few months ago, I'd never gone to church by myself.

~ I may have mentioned this before, but I hatehatehate to wear socks. I hate it when my feet are hot. In high school, we had to play a season of sports, rather than have PE, and I played basketball (very, very poorly) my freshman year. I used to walk back to the dorm barefoot in the dead of winter because I couldn't stand how hot my feet were after practice.

~When I was in nursery school, I played the Virgin Mary in our Christmas pageant. My mother was thrilled.

~ I went to camp the summer between 5th and 6th grades with my niece who's older than I am. Despite being in the same cabin with her, I ended up becoming so homesick (and felt immense guilt for missing my mother's birthday) that I went home early.

~ My father really, really wanted to name me Clementine. My mother refused. I wasn't officially named for months.

~ I was baptized Lee Frances, (Mom's middle name and the feminine of my father's first name) but my mother thought Lee was too grown up for a baby, so it became my middle name when they finally settled on a first name for my birth certificate. Years after my father died, I changed the spelling of Lee to Leigh and and took Frances back as my second middle name. No matter who won the naming contest, I don't really like my first name.

Hello Darkness, My Old Friend

I love, love, love the end of Daylight Savings Time. In fact, when the idea to extend it came about a couple of years ago I was not pleased. I've always felt most alive in the fall and winter and adore that it gets dark early. Think of it as the inverse of seasonal affective disorder.

What?

It's 5 pm and already pitch black?

Fantastic!

It's as if you've been given a little gift of time when you look out the window and are convinced that it must already be well past 8, only to check the clock and realize that it's barely 6.

Bring on the darkness, baby.

"More So," Really?

This one's been bothering me for a while...

Once Noggin is done for the day (6 pm, my time), if the TV is going to be on (I turn it off repeatedly throughout the day, but the kids know how to turn it on - I think that, like their Nana, they're fans of background noise while they play), I make sure that it's set to The Good Night Show on Sprout. Both Muffins are in love with Thomas and they seem to find Sagwa and Kipper appealing, as well. I don't mind much of the programming, but I'm not a fan of The Berenstain Bears, never have been. J is, though, and the kids like to dance to the theme song.

Anyway...not being a fan of the Berenstain Bears seems to mean that I'm acutely aware of when it comes on. Call me crazy, call me anal, but I can't stand the theme song. I know, I know, it's supposed to be cute and catchy and doesn't have to make sense, but bears are not just like you and me, with the only difference being that they live in a tree. I do appreciate the line about Momma, Poppa, Sister and Brother always making it through and being there for each other in good times and bad - that's a great example of familyness and one that I hope we instill in our kids, but the line that really gets me?

"They're a lot like people, only more so."

Come again?