Read on!

It is my secret desire to be thought of as "well read". I just wanted to say good luck to Katie with your reading race. I love to read, and when I worked I read about a hundred books that year. It was the year of the classics and my discovery of Harry Potter, and apparently I have only worked for one year in my life. Not true. But close. However, I am quite sure I have spent more time reading than working. I did have a huge audio book phase, so I am not as negligent as it sounds. Well, Cooper wants to read all of the time. I am sure that many can relate to my woes. He wants to read the same book time and time again, using the same gusto and excitement and dramatics every time. I am happy to foster this love of books, but lets read something else! I think I can still recite There's a Wocket in my Pocket from my days as a nanny.

Peanut Butter and Jelly

Samuel is super picky about food. He gets it from me. I can relate to him and so I am too kind in that area. I used to be afraid of foods that were what I deemed unusual. Mayo still gets my adrenaline pumping, but I am getting better. I will not stand down with that one, though.
So Sam won't eat sandwiches. For lunch he takes lunch meat instead of a sandwich. He keeps singing this song about peanut butter and jelly, so I am hoping this is making it less evil in his foodie mind, and that the shackles will eventually fall from his stubborn foodie heart.

Soccer Days

I am not wild about going to soccer and I will jump for joy when it's over. But its not so bad once the donkey is unpacked and we are sitting on the sidelines. Sam is a little more aware of what's going on and likes it and scored a goal even. He insisted on these poses and though they may be awkward, he as perfectly cooperative. This is proof that I was there. Maybe i will photoshop a sweater on my body so I can have "proof" for the next game too.

Put down the scissors and walk away!

Well, I have a bad habit of cutting my hair. Its not so bad that I do it, but I will admit, I have had perpetual bad hair since I have been married. That's because I am CHEAP! Well, everyday I want to cut my hair, and the only reason I don't is because the bathroom is clean and I don't really want to mess it up. The real problem is this: When I cut my own hair, I feel "licensed" to cut it anytime I want, be it every week, every day, or three times a day. So good haircuts turn into bad haircuts because I like to cut. I still need the sign on my mirror: "Put down the scissors, and walk away!"

This all comes up because, as some of you may have noticed, my hair is ridiculously long for me. I like it, and know that I will never grow it out again, so I don't want to cut it yet. But I get the itch to, nearly everyday. I also secretly dream of it frolicking behind me like Brook Shields' hair, unfortunately I am a few stylists short. I do hate the way my post partum hair is all over the floor, and wraps around my armpits when I sleep or throw a ball. I also really like to find it wrapped around Jacob's neck. Its so gross! Then I have all of these wild gray things freaking out all over the place. Go gray or go away. Gray at 29. That would be something. Oh, wait its already doing that! I need some of that old man comb in stuff. Mmmm. Then I can be greasy, too. Then my scissors won't work.

Stacks and stacks

So I have a small organizational problem, and I welcome tips, advice, criticism, etc from you all, even my fellow blog stalkers. I can't stop piling stuff. I walked into my room and the bassinet that used to be full of Jacob is now full of goodwill items and miscellaneous clothing. Maybe I wouldn't just throw it over there if there were an immediate consequence, such as the towel being sucked into a vortex, never to be seen again. Actually, that could be handy. However, I have always thought of myself as a fantastic housekeeper. Much like I think of my days in college as never ending fun. I obviously forgot falling asleep in the library trying to cram for a test, making myself sick from lack of sleep and bending over the desk just so. Or the boys that wouldn't kiss me when I was practically begging them to, only to be ditched for some other less devoted gal. Or the knee surgery (the semester I had 4 PE classes), and crutchin it to class in the snow. So my point is that I have been deluding myself about my housekeeping skills. Sure, I have had a few good runs in the past nearly 8 years. But I have spent the majority of that time fighting against clutter (I think I will picket in front of my house tomorrow). I do great for a while then I want to live my life, but I can't figure out how to do stuff like grocery shopping and keep my house clean. I need an amah. I know I have to stop acquiring stuff, or at least slow the pace. I cannot turn down free furniture. Unless it is hideous. I cannot part with toys. Even if they collectively cost me ten bucks. If we were nudists, that would eliminate the vast majority of the clutter. My kids practically are nudists. If I could just get them to stop saying embarrassing things, maybe we could try that. (Nice back hair. I like your back hair!) Well, since that doesn't seem to be an option, I guess I will just have to get a bigger house. Ha. Or get rid of more stuff. Hey, if anyone wants free junk, come by sometime. Maybe I should put a little stand out in the front yard: "Free Junk to a Good Home".

I forgot this one (Collin's Fave)

Bytheway, it's www.yearbookyourself.com.

Amanda through the Years