Mondays

. . .  really are for the birds. I always thought once I finally turned into a "stay-at-home" mom, Mondays wouldn't be so dreadful, but in all reality they still are. I wonder if it is just the mind set? Because you do laundry on tuesdays & thursdays. The floors need swept everyday, the bathroom faucet is most often creatively adorned with "Crest Whitening Paste" and my toes always get tangled in hair. (my own, which makes it even worse) Too bad my sister or some other female doesn't live here so I could at least holler at someone else for the inconvenience. Nope, it's just me. My husband likes the shaved head look & my daughter has worn most of hers off in her sleep. So I just spend my time annoyed at myself. Speaking of the daughter, she is sleeping on the couch with her butt humped up in the air. Sometimes it omits these noises that make me blush. She has no thought of lady-like business whatsoever. With her & Dad around here, we have a regular chorus.

  Her cute little body begs for squeezing. It always amazes me how annoyed you can be at night. Not once when I was "excpecting" did I think of the nighttime's. Well I do now. I can never understand how she manages to wake up at the oddest times & wants to eat. Who wants to eat formula in the middle in the night? Olivia. Then follows the whole routine that has suddenly become a way of life. Rock for 20 minutes, put her in bed, & creep ever so slowly back to your own bed  & hit every CREEKING floorboard in this house. We never even knew we had squeaky floorboards. It came as a total shock to J & I. Sometimes the squeak sounds more like a siren. . . . and just when you've got the sheet 3 inches under your chin, the pillow fluffed and one corner folded under, you hear the squirming, followed by many many whimpers. So it's rock for another 20 minutes, stand up EVER SO SLOWLY, move one foot closer to the crib and then the other follows, hold your breath and start the ever time consuming decent into the crib. . . . & then the pacifier sneaks out of her mouth and lands on the floor, missing the quiet rug, hitting the wood. And so begins round 3. . .  and that's when you can barely see past the sand paper, that the little mite starts smiling. So the last 2 hour episode fades into the past, & you are once again delighted beyond measure to have a little girl all snuggly in her PJ's smelling like Johnson & Johnson. What a roller-coaster life has become.


   So. . . this is a bit off of the subject but I had no idea it was to snow yesterday. My lovely husband was doing the dishes & I decided to peer out the window (stalling the dish drying process) & this is what I found. There is nothing as romantic as a small town at night, under the blanket of falling snow. Wrapped under the most comfortable blanket we have, I stood on the porch and watched. It was breath-takingly quiet & gorgeous. Sometimes for 5 seconds I think I miss the big city bustle, with all of the Thai, Indian, Morracon, & Chinese restaraunts. The little art stores on every corner, the 5 lane traffic. The horizon lite with city lights at night, the metro hauling people here and there. . . and then I realize that I love my life. While the city serves its purpose, I am meant for smaller things. Like a little town buried in snow. . .& the neighbors yard light shining on my porch.

 

The wind was lightly blowing my lantern, but I still

thought it was pretty. Now to you all, a happy

entertaining Monday minus laundry.