O is for “OH! For meeeeeeeeee? You shouldn’t have!”

NaBloPoMerry Christmas!
Have YOU NaBloPoMo’d Today?  Well, I have!  (Is this TMI?)

Today at Momsie, we’re going to discuss one of my favorite topics:  ME.

And let me begin by saying, it is a complex and wonderful topic, ME, so this post is gonna rock it.

It is possible that humility might not be one of my strong points, but today brevity will be, because I got three pies to bake (none of them are custard, alas; I learned my lesson there and just even the thought of egg anything makes me a little blegh) and a whole lot of ziti and Italian sausage to throw together for the family.  Selfless deeds, all this cooking stuff.   I am just that wonderful.

But mainly, cooking up a storm at the in-laws gives me something to do.  I am not very good with down time, which seems to occur a lot during these holiday visits.  You know, football’s on, kids are aimlessly walking around Grandpa’s house picking up all the decorative glass they can get their grubby hands on, the hubs seems to be permanently affixed to the couch, and I am restless.  There’s no laundry to do.  None.  It’s disconcerting.  (And yes, I will figure out how AWESOME that is right around the time we start to pack up for home.)

Screenshot 2013-11-27 15.13.51
I look like this when I do my laundry.

Apart from mopping my father in law’s floors (which we will probably need to do after this visit) I will COOK.  Like, a LOT.  It’s my thing.  It keeps me busy; the children come to me occasionally for sugar and a hug; the husband is happy because I am not puttering about him and endlessly suggesting things like, “Why don’t we turn the game down a bit?  Why don’t you take the boys to the park?  Why don’t you play Candyland?  Why don’t you-” Which he interrupts with a look that says, “Take a hike?  Just, go away?  Consider therapy?”    If I just get in the kitchen and get cooking, the glass decorative items have to fend for themselves (sorry Grandpa), but for the most part, everyone else benefits.

So, I told you that to tell you this:

Screenshot 2013-11-27 14.09.08

I got a present today!  A lovely present!!

I was nominated for Most Versatile Blogger.  ME!  (I warned you – all about me today).

And I am so happy.  You know why? Because you like me… you really like me.  And you read my words, and hopefully get a chuckle or a smile or get to just get to take a breath, and that just is the butter on my bread, the meringue on my pie.  The frosting on my cupcake.

Did you ever notice how all my analogies come back to food?  It’s my thing.

Ok, so the lovely Melissa at Letters to Oliver nominated me, and I am so thankful.  Her blog about her son (and life and all of it) started simply, but it has grown into a testament to her mothering, and, well, I will just quote her here because she says it better than I do:

“It was supposed to be a baby book in blog form and it turned into therapy for me.  It turned into fear, anxiety, frustration, exhaustion, and true love.”
Her blog rocks.

The rules of the award state that I must nominate 15 other bloggers – I will do so, but I need time to mull over that one.  And, it asks: “Tell the person who nominated you 7 things about yourself.”

WELL SURE!!  It’s my favorite subject, myself!  I, myself would LOVE to tell you alllllll about, erm, myself.  Just seven things?  Really?

Here goes.  Yes, I realize I am making this whole nomination thing into its own post.  I can if I want to.  That’s my prerogative.  And now, Bobby Brown, the 90’s, a whole bunch of girls in black spandex, and I present to you:



1.  I struggle with catchy titles to lists.

2.  I once really really wanted to be a backup singer for a band.  The black bra/spandex thing?  Not so much.

3.  I really, really cannot sing very well.  This has been made abundantly clear to me by my boys.  When attempting to harmonize with my sweetie Josh Groban during “O Holy Night” Blonde clapped both hands over his ears and said, “No! NO!  Please. NOOOOOO Mommy!  STOPPIT.”  Red just left the room.  He’s the smart one.

4.  I have a master’s degree in teaching and curriculum, and I have taught grades four through college.  I have found that all ages are remarkably similar.  College kids go crazy for manipulatives. And markers.  And they forget their pencils just as much as the fourth graders.

5.  I cannot, for the life of me, figure out what people are talking about when they have to S-P-E-L-L the words out?  Like when toddlers are around?  You start spelling at me and I get all blank and rather head-tiltie, like a P-U-P-P-Y.  (I also don’t like up-talkers?  I discussed that here.)

6.  I also cannot tell directions (north, south, you know, the other two…)  If someone I don’t know very well starts giving me directions like this:  “Well, you need to head south on Whatsit Street and then head westerly on IAmGonnaGetSoLost Lane for a block.  Then just go north for three blocks on I’mPrettySureIAmScrewed Road until you hit the IGottaActNaturalLikeIGetIt tunnel.  Got that?”


Then I call my husband, who gets me and is very patient and talks to me in a soft, soothing voice with lots of landmarks until I stop freaking out.

7.  Jesus really did save me, when I was 28, from the big huge mess that was my life.  And that, dear reader, will have to be a much less sarcastic post* for another day.

So there ya have it. Momsie. In seven easy steps.

I thank you for the nomination.  It’s a present.  I love them!

You know what the biggest present is?  The hour (or so) a day I spend typing away at this blog, and you guys.  Aw, you readers, you.  You big lugs.  (Big hugs, tousles hair, pinches cheeks). YOU are the butter and JAM on my bread, and I love you.

* My lawyer wants to remind me and you that sarcasm with Jesus is a possibility with me.  You are warned.  Just not sarcasm AT Him. I don’t do that.  He can handle it, but it doesn’t jive with me.  I will however, keep lobbing sarcasm at most anything else that moves, breathes, or sleeps in my near vicinity.

Especially I, myself.

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