Happy New Year!

Cheers!

Here's to a polished draft (or two) in the new year! Cooking, playing games with the kids and putting together photo collages are creative in their own right but seem to sap the rest of my creative energies. (The ideas are still pinging around in my head but I can't seem to get--or take--the time to sit down and sort them all out.)

The youngest is pleading to play "Mousetrap" as I write this, middle kid is sick and the oldest is at gymnastics. I have hopes and plans for both boys napping, today! (Which never works out but it feels like the season for dreaming!)

Have a Happy New Year! Good luck to you, and in all of your pursuits, in the coming year!

And now (again) for something completely different...

I am proud to be an American. I was born on the Fourth of July, for Pete's sake.
I am a former military spouse, my three-year-old already not only knows the Pledge of Allegiance but knows where to put his hand. We are proud Americans.

Despite what late night television commercials tell me--or you--I do not need this to prove it!

Perspective

We are driving past the frozen lake, on our way to pick up the "big kids."

"Oh, no!" my three-year-old yells. "There is snow on top of the water! The birds can't swim!"

"That's OK," I say, "they can just walk on it until the ice melts."

"Oh. I didn't know. I never been a bird, before."

A little pick-me up

Only two mugs of coffee into my busy morning, I stopped at Starbucks for a little more help.

This afternoon, after picking the kids up from school, they all asked to stop at Starbucks for their after-school snack. So I got yet another latte--with this suggestion, wrapped around it! :)

I need an undercoat

I know what you're thinking. You think the blonde roots have resurfaced. (They haven't, what you see is grey.) You think I mean I need an overcoat.

It is snowing. It isn't icy, it isn't slippery, I can handle snow. The wind today, however, will cut through you. Not a little jab. Not through to your bones but all-the-way-through your bones. This is butcher-knife wind.

As a mother and sometimes-responsible pet owner, I know the dog would enjoy a good 2-mile run. (Good for the dog and safer for my offspring, who will not be pounced upon immediately upon entering the house, IF I take her for a run). Said pet, a golden retriever, has an undercoat. While I can see the wind blowing her fur everywhichway, she is unfettered. She lies in the snow, rolls in the snow and eats the snow. A moment later, I am almost reduced to tears when I open the door to call her in. Not because I don't want her in the house but because I opened the door. I let the wind in. It hurt.

I have the fire going, am wearing my slippers on and hold yet another hot mug of coffee in my hands. I have to go pick up the older two children from school in half an hour, so they won't be standing out in the wind but I don't want to go out there. I need an undercoat.