Zip- Drive (Me Crazy)

One of Pman's favorite games seems to be taking everything out of the lazy susan and, one by one, placing the items on the kitchen table about 20 feet away. He giggles the whole time. I have watched him climb on a chair and push the items he has already placed on the table, further back so as to make room for the new items. This will consume up to 45 minutes of his afternoon if I let it.

Sometimes I do simply because I have no better ideas, sometimes I don't let him get more than 5 items on the table because I do not feel like cleaning up.

In seemingly unrelated news, I have a zip drive that houses all...ALL of my teaching stuff from the last few years. (I clean it up every two years.) I, foolishly, do not typically back up my documents, so if I lose the zip drive I'm totally screwed. Some items, like my syllabus and class notes are backed up with hard copies, but the creative writing assignments and class activities that make up the genius that is my teaching style are on the zip drive.

Yesterday, while P napped, I started working on materials for the upcoming semester. When I finished, I pulled the thumb drive out of my laptop portal thingy and placed it on the side table to my immediate right.

This I KNEW.

Later that afternoon when I was gathering my school stuff up so it was not in sweet P's way while he played, I realized the external drive was not on the table.

Curious.

No matter, it probably fell off the table and is under the couch. Nope.

Between the couch cushions? Nope.

Possibly I threw it away? Nope. And ick!

In about an hour I had every stone, as it were, turned, twisted and practically crushed. The couch cushions were strewn about- P thought we were making forts. My storage area for school stuff- my school stool- was torn apart and reorganized. All of P's toy bins were upturned. I even had the couch upside down and was thisclose to cutting the underlining because I was sure the drive had fallen within the depths of the couch. I did all of this calmly, but quickly. I wanted to scream, but I did not want to frighten P. So, instead, I turn the couch right side up and sat on it, cushionless, and cried.

It sounds wussy, but I have found crying, rather than yelling, is a much better way to let it out.

As I sat there with frustrated tears streaming down my face, Pfunk brought a book over to me. My sweet, thoughtful son climbed on my lap, which was easy since I was only about 3 inches from the floor. He put his head on my shoulder. Instead of reading the book, I tried to explain to my almost 19 month old that mommy lost something very important and she was sad. He looked at me and said, "ssSaaBccmamavmmas." I forced a smile and tried to read the book to him. He again put his head on my shoulder and said, "BaaSsaavnajsjsh."

Not impressed with my lack of enthusiasm, he scooted off my lap and headed back into the kitchen to finish the lazy susan game.

Defeated, I picked up his empty sippy cup and headed to the kitchen to fill it up. It was then I saw it- my zip-drive, sitting on the bottom shelf of the lazy susan- clearly not where I left it.

I am in no hurry for P to grow up, I am really enjoying my time with him at this age. However, this little episode gave me a glimpse of the sweet man he will become. He is not perfect, just moments after all of this, I had to give him a time out for playing with the lamp shade. (I swear this boy has toys, it's not all lampshades and lazy susans!) We just had this great moment of real human, mother to son, I need a hug interaction and it was amazing.

Old Times and Gooey Goodness

Things have been happening recently- mainly one thing, really. I have no control over this thing, but I am directly affect and effected by it.


Confession: I am getting old(er). I am staring down the barrel of 30. My birthday is in July, but I will accept gifts throughout the year.

When I was a teenager I used to know I would always be cool. Then, after graduating college and having to purchasing a couple smart, sensible pant suits, I hoped I would at least be cool on the weekend. Now when I use the word "cool," I am typically referring to the weather.

I recently told someone, who is in their late teens/early twenties, that Josh got me a Wii Fitness for Christmas. I was quickly corrected and told that I had a Wii Fit, not fitness. This does not seem like a big deal, but I can distinctly remember saying things like that to my parents and thinking they were idiots for their slight mispronunciation.

It's not Language Arts, it's English. I wasn't in Glee Club, I was in All County Choir. It was not Dave Matthew Band it was Dave MatthewS Band. And while I’m at it, I like(d) Phish as in the band, not as in bait and tackle.

Big deal to some, small potatoes to most.

Further evidence that I am getting older: The other day I put my hair in a half ponytail and revealed *gasp* stray, wiry, gray hairs. No worries. I promptly pulled out my Loreal Feria French Roast at-home hair coloring kit and set things right. <…Sweet Lord…>

This morning for breakfast I had an English Muffin- Double Fiber English Muffin. DOUBLE FIBER? How did those get in my fridge? When did I decided not only that I need more fiber in my life, but I needed to double it up? Ten years ago, I'm not even sure I knew what fiber was, what it did, or why I needed it. Now, I'm getting a double daily dose at breakfast. I also have Fiber One granola bars in my "snack" cabinet.

When I went off to college, my mom cleaned out her cabinets and passed off...I mean passed down, the Hodge Podge of dishes that had accumulated over the years with 4 children in the house. A few years ago I replaced the dishes, but I still had mismatched coffee mugs. About two weeks ago I opened my cabinet, and for reasons I still do not understand, I threw out all my coffee mugs. Then I packed up sweetP and headed to Bed Bath and Beyond armed with one of my many coupons. I purchased matching plain white, sensibly sized, coffee mugs. My world has been harmonious and happy ever since.

As I was drinking coffee out of one of my perfectly pristine and matchy white mugs this morning, I congratulated myself on another perfectly brewed and prepared cup of joe. (It’s the little things.) I do not like dark roasted coffee, nor do I enjoy light roasted varieties- don't even get me started on instant. A friend of mine is of the mindset that coffee should be black and only black and not sweet in any way.

I, however, like Coffeemate poured in mug until the steamy beverage is the perfect shade of taupe. Then, depending on the strength of the coffee and the size of the mug, I stir in a tablespoon or two of sugar. SUGAR. Not splenda, truvia, equal or sweet and low- BLECH! To me, the sugar is worth the extra calories. Also, to the waitress or hostess who feels the need to refill my cup after only a sip or two, I say, "Thank you kindly, but QUIT IT!" When I have my coffee just so and you top me off you throw off the delicious balance I have going on, thereby pissing me off.

SEE?! Right there! See, I even have a particular way I like to have my coffee and I just sounded off at an invisible, made up waitress. If that is not the act of an old person, I don't know what is.

As I finish this up, I am sipping very chocolaty hot chocolate with mini marshmallows. This hot chocolate is not infused with fiber. Nor is it light or fat free. This is a mug of whole milk, yummy, rich chocolate powder crap and marshmallowy goodness. It is in an old lady matchy matchy white pristine mug, but it's all guilt-free gooey goodness that is childhood on the inside.