Confessions of a Serial Swooper

…that Demi was doing Whip-Its with her daughter before the now infamous seizure episode.  Jesus. Seriously?  Demi Moore’s mid-life crisis is the female equivalent of Charlie Sheen, if you ask me.  At least Charlie’s came and went (winning!) somewhat quickly where Demi has been a slow burn for years now.  Talk about refusing to get old?  Let’s marry a 20-year-old tv star (who acts 12), weigh 74 pounds and do whip-its with the kids!  Yeah.  That’ll work.  (Sigh)

_____

In other news…Pinterest.  It’s everywhere.  Ev.er.y.where.  Every blog.  All over Facebook.  It’s now apparently the place to plug…well, anything.  Which means I’m sort of starting to hate it.  And that it’ll be ruined in a matter of months.  Remind me of this, please, when it’s 10:30 at night, Husband has been in bed for an hour and I’m still awake pinning new recipes I’ll never use, inspirational quotes I’ll never see again and endless crafts to do with the kids.  The crafts.  Oh, the crafts.   Really?   Big fat chance.  Husband (rolling over in bed):  What have you been doing out there all this time?  Me:  Umm….well.

_____

My beloved Patriots are playing in a certain little game this coming weekend.  Against Husband’s beloved Giants.  We’ve been through this Superbowl thing before, though, and our marriage survived. But we were in Fort Lauderdale, away from the children and loaded up on nachos and vodka drinks so….yeah, it was easier.  Not to mention that his team won which always makes the getting along easier afterward.  Not that he’s a sore loser or anything (yes, he is ).   Here’s what happens when the Giants are on.

Little Brother and Husband.  Neither sits.

Big Brother (the one with a more developed brain) is a Pats fan like his mother.  This could be because he’s been alive for three championship rings in his short lifetime and because he knows poetry in motion when he sees it.  Or, it could be that he knows who orders the Wii games, does the grocery shopping and doles out dessert.  I’m going with the former.

GO PATS!

___

Along those lines, here’s an old post re: Brady and Brad Pitt.

Ladies, even if you know nothing about sports or Hollywood celebs (which means you apparently live in a box with a high speed internet connection), then you can at least enjoy a few pictures of two hot dudes in their prime.

Serial Swooper:  Enter Sexed-Up Hussy Chick

Read Full Post »

Little Brother has a lot to say lately.  As in constant chatter.  If he isn’t asking me how to spell some made up word like “Rahtso Motso Hoola Loo” then he wants to take turns singing lines of “Three Little Birds” (“Three Little Birds, Beside My Dorset”).  I’m delighted, and not the least bit surprised, that our second son is ridiculously verbal but sometimes…man.  I really wish he came with an “off” switch.

Is that all?!

_____

Big Brother turned 7 in December and, for the most part, became a completely new kid.  It’s amazing.  Suddenly, he gets it (most of the time).  Much more helpful, much better at managing his little brother, much more attentive in school, just so much more kind and (gulp) grown-up acting.   Consequently, I adore him and can’t get enough hugging and kissing.  Seven’s good.  Maybe we can freeze this stage for a bit?

_____

My parents and I have been going through a lot regarding my Mother’s health over the last few months, which I’m sure has contributed to the blank pages in my blog.  It feels like I should be blogging about it.  Talking it over with friends.  Sharing my fears.  Sharing my anger.  But, I’m not doing any of that.   Husband has been very supportive and my mother-in-law drops anything and drives from CT to stay with the kids when I need to be with my parents.  My Mom has a few wonderful friends in VT who I know would do anything for her (or my Dad) at the drop of a dime.  Here at home, I’m surrounded by people willing to help, willing to talk, willing to listen.  It’s wonderful.   The thing is, despite all those people and all that love, I’m alone in this one.   At the base of it all, I know I’m alone.

_____

Big Brother and Little Brother got into an argument a few days ago over a toy.  Whining turned to yelling turned to grabbing turned to rolling around on the floor together like scrappy teenagers in a playground brawl.  I grabbed each of them by the arm and sent them to their rooms.  After a few minutes, I joined Big Brother in his room and sat down on his bed.

“When I was your age, do you know what I wanted more than anything?” I asked.

“No.”

“I wanted a brother or a sister.  Someone to play with.  Someone who would always have my back, always be my friend.  Forever.  You have that, buddy.  You guys are so lucky to have each other.”

“I know.  Mommy?”

“Yeah, bud.”

“Why are you crying?”

_____

Read Full Post »