The new Facebook.
Trash romance novels.
Shaun the Sheep.
Phineas & Ferb
Running, which, sadly, I can't do as much of any more.
23 September 2011
21 September 2011
I am so hungry. Somehow, I managed to gain an insane amount of weight over the last few months. To my friends who see me all the time -- it hides on the hips/thighs, sigh. So I've started tracking what I eat each day, trying to make better choices. I am starving. Starving to the point that listening to my 7-year-old count down the timer on the oven is enough to drive me loopy:
". . . 3-2-1. Two more minutes!! 59-58-57 . . . One more minute!!!! 59-58-57-56 . . . . . .3-2-1!!! Waiit Zero minutes!!! 59-58-57 . . . . . .48-47-46 . . . 23-22-21 ..... 3-2-1 BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!"YAY! Food. Gotta go.
15 September 2011
Our oldest is much older than her younger siblings. For as long as they can remember, she's been the grown-up one. The perfect one. The one who does no wrong. She's put on some pedestal by them.
Tonight, my husband told the younger two the story of Uh-You.
For those who do not recall, C1 had speech issues as a child.
(Still does. Three years of speech therapy. Sigh. Try and get her to say synonym sometime. It is hilarious, trust me.)
When she was 3, my loving spouse was trying to teach her how to say the 23rd letter of the alphabet, which she insisted was pronounced "uh-you."
Scene: Casa Matthews, 1999, West Des Moines, IA. Kitchen.
C1, serious look on face, very sincerely: Uh-you.
This story cracked the younger two up.
It is funny. Truly. Even C1 sees the humor in it. But it also proved to them that at least once in their lives, C1 was fallible. She wasn't always perfect. She wasn't always the best. And for today, for C3, she needed that most of all.