Sunday, April 26, 2009
Remains of The Day
Here's some shots from the balance of the Birthday. Fun was had at T-ball and with friends at Dave and Busters.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
On The Six
This is what we looked like six years ago. Happy, sleepy, and judging by the diameter of my fingers--swollen! It was a long day waiting around for that slow poke woman in front of me to hurry up and get her baby out so that the doctor could come do my C-section. How rude of her to delay your arrival. I literally cannot believe that it has been six years. I remember my own sixth birthday. Its scary! Well, here we go:
Happy 6th birthday to my little man,
What sweet joy you bring,
As you sing, jump, and slam.
The brain inside your cranium's,
like uncontrolled uranium.
You sizzle.
You pop.
We can't make you stop.
Nor would we wish it,
to ever be so,
The most fun we have is watching you grow.
You test us.
You best us.
You never sit still.
Your life will be rich due to sheer force of will.
Thanks for reminding us every day,
That the true joy of life comes when you play,
When you laugh, when you dance, when you take life by chance.
Just like we did when we had our kid.
Even though some days I'm flipping my lid.
Here's a toast to our boy with wink and a smile,
We love you so much --as wide as a mile.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Prom
Prom season is almost here. I've had another reason to dig through my photos lately - I hadn't looked at them in a very long time. I found these and they absolutely cracked me up.
1985-Senior Prom. That's me and my boyfriend at the time, Jim, who was a year younger than me. I notice that his tie and cummerbund are tartan plaid--a bold choice for a high-school Junior. I don't remember being involved in that decision. My hair is scrunched up. I'm pretty darn sure that was Aussie Sprunch Spray in there. The dress was a great choice and pretty classic. Not many girls wore black dresses back then --as is evidenced by the other two chicks who are drowning in hideous gunne sax lace. I don't even know their names. They were the dates of the other boys who were actually my friends. A pattern of me being better friends with the guys than the girls that continues to this day. And you have to admit that fur stole certainly demonstrates some bold confidence! If I could just get those upper arms back.....
Next week there will be a Bob Tate prom photo.....brace yourselves for the power of POWDER BLUE.
1985-Senior Prom. That's me and my boyfriend at the time, Jim, who was a year younger than me. I notice that his tie and cummerbund are tartan plaid--a bold choice for a high-school Junior. I don't remember being involved in that decision. My hair is scrunched up. I'm pretty darn sure that was Aussie Sprunch Spray in there. The dress was a great choice and pretty classic. Not many girls wore black dresses back then --as is evidenced by the other two chicks who are drowning in hideous gunne sax lace. I don't even know their names. They were the dates of the other boys who were actually my friends. A pattern of me being better friends with the guys than the girls that continues to this day. And you have to admit that fur stole certainly demonstrates some bold confidence! If I could just get those upper arms back.....
Next week there will be a Bob Tate prom photo.....brace yourselves for the power of POWDER BLUE.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Overheard Tonite In The Kitchen
Bob (speaking to me): I talked to my mother and she may not be able to spend a day with us when we go to Florida.
Dianna: Why not?
Connor: 'Cause she's on AIR!
My mother-in-law is on oxygen.
Dianna: Why not?
Connor: 'Cause she's on AIR!
My mother-in-law is on oxygen.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
My First New York
For the past two Christmases, my mom has gifted me with a subscription to "New York" magazine. Not "The New Yorker"--but the magazine about what's happening in New York every week. You can check out the website here. I love it because its this odd mashup of popular culture, things to do and see, and great, just fantastic journalism and writing. There are truly insightful articles and investigative reports. This week's issue includes the stories from 30 prominent New Yorkers about their first time living in / seeing the / learning about the city itself. It got me to thinking about my first memories of the city.
As a child....I remember two things. First, seeing the city from the deck of my father's tug boat as we chugged around the island of Manhattan. I can't remember the occasion, probably just a day at work for him or a Saturday outing where my mother would have a hairy conniption at the image of her baby girls traipsing over some plank of wood that bridged the gap between the dock and the deck of the tug. Below was always some litter, scum laden water---you know, the kind with that beige frothy foam like you see on root beer float--but disgusting. What I remember most about it is that when viewing the city and its skyline shooting up from the water, you can actually see/perceive the curvature of the earth. I remember distinctly asking my dad about it and him explaining in the simplest way that you could see it because the buildings are so tall and the tops of them are so far away from the earth. I recall thinking that Columbus was right! It was as if I had personally disproved the Flat Earth Theory.
As an adult....okay, a teenager....the first trip I made into the city without my parents was when I was around 15 or 16 years old. I HAVE NO IDEA WHY MY MOTHER LET ME GO. But she did. I took a bus into the city for a matinee show (I think it was "Show Boat" but I can't recall) with my friend Dwight. I don't remember being nervous or concerned at all. We got off the bus at Port Authority and took a taxi to the show. I remember walking down 5th Avenue and stopping at St. Patrick's Cathedral and Tiffany's. To this day when I go to New York I feel oddly compelled to go to those two places. I just associate seeing them both with the place itself. The pious and the commercial places of worship in the center of the city. The only other thing I distinctly remember about that day was a woman that Dwight and I saw on an escalator. She was verging on elderly, but she was spry. The problem was her hair. She had vainly attempted to retain a youthful strawberry blonde, but the results of her effort had rewarded her with a bouffant the color of oven baked salmon. A big, puffy salmon souffle. For some reason, we found this incredibly uproariously hysterical and we laughed about it for years.
I don't love New York. As a young person living near it, I thought it was the center of the known universe. I was sure I'd live there at some point. Sure I'd be part of it somehow. But now, I'm glad I'm not. I love cities and I could easily become a city dweller. But it wouldn't be in New York. For me, its too big. Too insurmountable. A monolith. It reminds me of the Death Star in Star Wars. Its this big thing with all of people moving around it, through it, and in it. And it can't be for any good, common purpose. And like the Death Star, as you draw closer to it its enormity and complexity is shocking. But it can be magical and I understand its inevitable pull for people--especially young ones. Like the song says...if you can make it there, you can make it anywhere. I just don't want to.
As a child....I remember two things. First, seeing the city from the deck of my father's tug boat as we chugged around the island of Manhattan. I can't remember the occasion, probably just a day at work for him or a Saturday outing where my mother would have a hairy conniption at the image of her baby girls traipsing over some plank of wood that bridged the gap between the dock and the deck of the tug. Below was always some litter, scum laden water---you know, the kind with that beige frothy foam like you see on root beer float--but disgusting. What I remember most about it is that when viewing the city and its skyline shooting up from the water, you can actually see/perceive the curvature of the earth. I remember distinctly asking my dad about it and him explaining in the simplest way that you could see it because the buildings are so tall and the tops of them are so far away from the earth. I recall thinking that Columbus was right! It was as if I had personally disproved the Flat Earth Theory.
As an adult....okay, a teenager....the first trip I made into the city without my parents was when I was around 15 or 16 years old. I HAVE NO IDEA WHY MY MOTHER LET ME GO. But she did. I took a bus into the city for a matinee show (I think it was "Show Boat" but I can't recall) with my friend Dwight. I don't remember being nervous or concerned at all. We got off the bus at Port Authority and took a taxi to the show. I remember walking down 5th Avenue and stopping at St. Patrick's Cathedral and Tiffany's. To this day when I go to New York I feel oddly compelled to go to those two places. I just associate seeing them both with the place itself. The pious and the commercial places of worship in the center of the city. The only other thing I distinctly remember about that day was a woman that Dwight and I saw on an escalator. She was verging on elderly, but she was spry. The problem was her hair. She had vainly attempted to retain a youthful strawberry blonde, but the results of her effort had rewarded her with a bouffant the color of oven baked salmon. A big, puffy salmon souffle. For some reason, we found this incredibly uproariously hysterical and we laughed about it for years.
I don't love New York. As a young person living near it, I thought it was the center of the known universe. I was sure I'd live there at some point. Sure I'd be part of it somehow. But now, I'm glad I'm not. I love cities and I could easily become a city dweller. But it wouldn't be in New York. For me, its too big. Too insurmountable. A monolith. It reminds me of the Death Star in Star Wars. Its this big thing with all of people moving around it, through it, and in it. And it can't be for any good, common purpose. And like the Death Star, as you draw closer to it its enormity and complexity is shocking. But it can be magical and I understand its inevitable pull for people--especially young ones. Like the song says...if you can make it there, you can make it anywhere. I just don't want to.
Fear The Pinch!
Yesterday was Dulles Little League's Opening Day. This occasion is marked with a team parade from St. Theresa's to Crittenden Park, an opening ceremony with first pitch, and a "Fun Fest" which includes many moon bounces. The parade was great. Our only girl player, Carly, and her mom made this awesome banner with the kids faces as the BlueClaw face:
And I spent a few nights this week making these BlueClaw props for the kids to carry. They had blue glitter paint outlining the shape--I told Carly that I used the glitter for her! I didn't march with them, but another parent told me that the claws were a big hit with the crowd. Nobody else had props!
And finally, here's our player. Up a tree. And note, no games have been played, yet the knees of the pants are wrecked.
And I spent a few nights this week making these BlueClaw props for the kids to carry. They had blue glitter paint outlining the shape--I told Carly that I used the glitter for her! I didn't march with them, but another parent told me that the claws were a big hit with the crowd. Nobody else had props!
And finally, here's our player. Up a tree. And note, no games have been played, yet the knees of the pants are wrecked.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Here Comes Peter Cottontail!
We did some exciting egg coloring yesterday and we'll be having egg salad for breakfast today as a a result! We used a PAAS kit, a Dudley kit, and regular food coloring. And its Masters weekend so we went with the plastic grass tablecloth to control our messes!
This morning at the crack of dawn I was up icing that egg cake. Couldn't pull it together this year to make that spectacular chocolate bunny that we had last year. Plus, no one in this house needs a cake made with 3 pounds of butter. So, the egg cake is from a box and in a flavor that Connor will love (strawberry) but that Bob and I can resist.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
I Gave Her My Heart. She Gave Me A Pen.
Every year at Easter I look forward to the Peep extravaganza that occurs. The Washington Post has a peep diorama contest and they'll publish it tomorrow. You can see a slide show of past winners here and here. If you look at this and it doesn't make you smile and wonder at the creativty and imagination of human-kind, you might have a problem.... I'm just saying.
Though this one is by far one of the least complicated, its my favorite. You simply have to love any "Say Anything" cultural reference. As Lloyd would say: "I don't want to sell anything, buy anything, or process anything as a career. I don't want to sell anything bought or processed, or buy anything sold or processed, or process anything sold, bought, or processed, or repair anything sold, bought, or processed. You know, as a career, I don't want to do that." Excellent!
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Spring Training
The Blue Claws had their first practice today..finally. The first few were rained out. It was windy, but sunny. And Coach Bob was really organized. And judging by the outfits we might be working on a Buckeye farm team.
Friday, April 3, 2009
You Can't Play On Broken Strings
Can't write tonite--a mani, a pedi, and a big vodka sour has done me in. But I can share this song with you.
http://www.vh1.com/video/play.jhtml?artist=2380946&vid=339901
So beautiful. His voice. The lyrics. Nelly. Exquisite songwriting and performance. Where do people get this gift?
http://www.vh1.com/video/play.jhtml?artist=2380946&vid=339901
So beautiful. His voice. The lyrics. Nelly. Exquisite songwriting and performance. Where do people get this gift?
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
I've Come To Realize
You might have noticed that I'm here a bit more. Its my Q2 2009 resolution. I've come to realize that writing here is important to me and to those of you who miss me when I don't post. I don't know how long I'll sustain it, but here are my other realizations:
1. I've come to realize that my job...is my drug.
2. I've come to realize that when I'm driving...I love to sing and I'd better not be disturbed.
3. I've come to realize that I need....more muscle tone.
4.I've come to realize that I have lost...so much of my creativity.
5. I've come to realize that I hate it when...the phone rings at home.
6. I've come to realize that if I'm drunk...its a rare and priceless occurance.
7. I've come to realize that money...needs to come in just the right amounts. Not too much, not too little.
8. I've come to realize that certain people...don't understand the faces I make and are frightened of me.
9. I've come to realize that I'll always...be a "faller" and a klutz.
10. I've come to realize that my mom...made me what I am and protected me so well.
11. I've come to realize that my cell phone...is critical to my happiness.
12. I've come to realize that when I woke up this morning...I was disproportionately happy to be alone to go work out and watch a show.
13. I've come to realize that last night before I went to sleep...my husband still had the TV on and I can't believe I fell asleep- that being the case.
14. I've come to realize that right now I am thinking...about why I can't go on more vacations.
15. I've come to realize that my dad...though, flawed, possesed much of what I find attractive in men--contradictions. He could kick some ass but he cried at weddings. He was from Maine but he wore cowboy hats. He loved that I could stand on my own two feet, but he was ready to catch me. He was obsessive, but could let it go.
16. I've come to realize that today...was non-stop.
17. I've come to realize that tonight....I can't wait to wash my face.
18. I've come to realize that tomorrow...could be good.
19. I've come to realize that I really want to...be a better friend.
20. I've come to realize that life...is a total crapshoot. "Man plans, God laughs."
21. I've come to realize that my friends...like to move to Germany.
22. I've come to realize that this year...is flying by.
23. I've come to realize that maybe I should....get a housekeeper.
24. I've come to realize I love...T-ball.
25. I've come to realize that I don't understand...people who spend too much time planning and not enough time doing and trying.
26. I've come to realize my past...is pretty boring. But that's OK.
27. I've come to realize that parties...are horrible.
28. I've come to realize that I'm totally terrified...of socialism.
29. I've come to realize that my life...is spectacular.
1. I've come to realize that my job...is my drug.
2. I've come to realize that when I'm driving...I love to sing and I'd better not be disturbed.
3. I've come to realize that I need....more muscle tone.
4.I've come to realize that I have lost...so much of my creativity.
5. I've come to realize that I hate it when...the phone rings at home.
6. I've come to realize that if I'm drunk...its a rare and priceless occurance.
7. I've come to realize that money...needs to come in just the right amounts. Not too much, not too little.
8. I've come to realize that certain people...don't understand the faces I make and are frightened of me.
9. I've come to realize that I'll always...be a "faller" and a klutz.
10. I've come to realize that my mom...made me what I am and protected me so well.
11. I've come to realize that my cell phone...is critical to my happiness.
12. I've come to realize that when I woke up this morning...I was disproportionately happy to be alone to go work out and watch a show.
13. I've come to realize that last night before I went to sleep...my husband still had the TV on and I can't believe I fell asleep- that being the case.
14. I've come to realize that right now I am thinking...about why I can't go on more vacations.
15. I've come to realize that my dad...though, flawed, possesed much of what I find attractive in men--contradictions. He could kick some ass but he cried at weddings. He was from Maine but he wore cowboy hats. He loved that I could stand on my own two feet, but he was ready to catch me. He was obsessive, but could let it go.
16. I've come to realize that today...was non-stop.
17. I've come to realize that tonight....I can't wait to wash my face.
18. I've come to realize that tomorrow...could be good.
19. I've come to realize that I really want to...be a better friend.
20. I've come to realize that life...is a total crapshoot. "Man plans, God laughs."
21. I've come to realize that my friends...like to move to Germany.
22. I've come to realize that this year...is flying by.
23. I've come to realize that maybe I should....get a housekeeper.
24. I've come to realize I love...T-ball.
25. I've come to realize that I don't understand...people who spend too much time planning and not enough time doing and trying.
26. I've come to realize my past...is pretty boring. But that's OK.
27. I've come to realize that parties...are horrible.
28. I've come to realize that I'm totally terrified...of socialism.
29. I've come to realize that my life...is spectacular.
Swift As The Coursing River
Before I begin: Irony Pinot Noir Monterey 2006--not so good.
______________________________________________________
I am the mother of a son. I am the mother of a boy-child. I am the mother of a future man.
Yeesh. This is hard. I don't know how to be a man, so how do I teach him to be a man?
Okay, so, his father has some of that responsbility. But that's for him to figure out in his own way. I've got to figure out how I do it as his mother. And I have to figure it out fast. Its becoming critical. Up until this age, I don't think it required much material difference than loving and nurturing a girl. Sure, I'd be playing Barbies alot more than Storm Trooper attack, but the parenting probably isn't much different. But the paths are diverging and I'm slamming into trees.
He's amazing. He is so smart, charming, clever, and creative. He's intuitive. And he's a natural leader. I just worry that he'll be the leader of a band of surfing bank robbers rather than an CEO. How do I channel those things? How do I nuture them in the right way?
He called a kid at school "stupid" today. And so tonight he has to write "I will not call my friends names" 5 times.I'm struggling with it because 1) the kid is stupid, and 2) the whole thing is so mamby pamby. This is a kid who constantly hits and verbally abuses Connor (I've seen it live and in action) and I'm not clear on what punishment he gets. Its just that Connor hardly ever lashes out--no hitting, no pushing--but he clearly snapped today. Apparently he was doing a floor puzzle with his friend Nathan and he was being a bit too "leader-y" (read: bossy--and I don't know where he gets that) and the other kid came and got Nathan and told him to come play with him instead. To which Connor said "Sam, you are so stupid!" So, I have the great joy of doing all this miserable writing with him tonight and acting all concerned. Ugh. Seems pretty normal 6 year old name calling to me. And this other kid is such a nasty brat that I really, really want to tell Connor to just kick his little ass. But, I can't. Refer to my earlier concern of bank robber vs. CEO. I'm also making him write an apology note to Sam--but it is violating every cell of my body. I am trying to rise above.
At any rate, there's been lots of whining and crying around here tonite. And all the way home in the car. And I'm tired. And I'm kind of sick of whiny people. So, its all piling up. And what do I do? The woman who want's to raise a good man? A strong man? A manly man? SHOW TUNES! That's what I do. Makes perfect sense, doesn't it? He's crying at the desk in the kitchen, body folded over and limp, and I finally snap and break into "Make A Man Out of You" from Mulan. He covers his ears and yells "MOM. STOP" but I carry on regardless and sing it like my life depends on it. He was not pleased.
Okay, not very effective. But the message is on-point, at least. And it made me feel better.
______________________________________________________
I am the mother of a son. I am the mother of a boy-child. I am the mother of a future man.
Yeesh. This is hard. I don't know how to be a man, so how do I teach him to be a man?
Okay, so, his father has some of that responsbility. But that's for him to figure out in his own way. I've got to figure out how I do it as his mother. And I have to figure it out fast. Its becoming critical. Up until this age, I don't think it required much material difference than loving and nurturing a girl. Sure, I'd be playing Barbies alot more than Storm Trooper attack, but the parenting probably isn't much different. But the paths are diverging and I'm slamming into trees.
He's amazing. He is so smart, charming, clever, and creative. He's intuitive. And he's a natural leader. I just worry that he'll be the leader of a band of surfing bank robbers rather than an CEO. How do I channel those things? How do I nuture them in the right way?
He called a kid at school "stupid" today. And so tonight he has to write "I will not call my friends names" 5 times.I'm struggling with it because 1) the kid is stupid, and 2) the whole thing is so mamby pamby. This is a kid who constantly hits and verbally abuses Connor (I've seen it live and in action) and I'm not clear on what punishment he gets. Its just that Connor hardly ever lashes out--no hitting, no pushing--but he clearly snapped today. Apparently he was doing a floor puzzle with his friend Nathan and he was being a bit too "leader-y" (read: bossy--and I don't know where he gets that) and the other kid came and got Nathan and told him to come play with him instead. To which Connor said "Sam, you are so stupid!" So, I have the great joy of doing all this miserable writing with him tonight and acting all concerned. Ugh. Seems pretty normal 6 year old name calling to me. And this other kid is such a nasty brat that I really, really want to tell Connor to just kick his little ass. But, I can't. Refer to my earlier concern of bank robber vs. CEO. I'm also making him write an apology note to Sam--but it is violating every cell of my body. I am trying to rise above.
At any rate, there's been lots of whining and crying around here tonite. And all the way home in the car. And I'm tired. And I'm kind of sick of whiny people. So, its all piling up. And what do I do? The woman who want's to raise a good man? A strong man? A manly man? SHOW TUNES! That's what I do. Makes perfect sense, doesn't it? He's crying at the desk in the kitchen, body folded over and limp, and I finally snap and break into "Make A Man Out of You" from Mulan. He covers his ears and yells "MOM. STOP" but I carry on regardless and sing it like my life depends on it. He was not pleased.
Okay, not very effective. But the message is on-point, at least. And it made me feel better.
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