Acrimony:
:qoutidian
:panache
:diplomacy
:demagoguery
:heliocentric
Friday, November 20, 2009
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Snippet
I'm gathering supplies for doll house making. The big event will take place (God willing) this weekend, because that is the only free time I have in my entire life for the next month and some change. I may not even come up to breathe.
I might be blue from lack of oxygen by the end of this but the doll house is gonna be awe.some.
That is all.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Loose Ends
Since Sarahthe was the only one that answered the post about Diffuse a few days ago (you kids are slacking off. If you ever want to pass the GRE....nevermind.) I will go ahead and say it's safe to post an answer and ta-da! You are right. It's concentrate. And I will always have a perfectly simple mental image concerning those two words.
Moving On.
The other day when I said I had a funny story and then I posted about how Juliana was being an absolute terror? Yeah. That was not the funny story. I think initially I had it in my mind that it was part of the funny story and in the end, well, I got a little distracted. Needless to say, I have a funny (now) story.
The day that Juliana threw the tantrums of all tantrums I had specifically noted on my calender that we had things to do. Most importantly, the Easter Orthodox Christmas Festival was in it's last day and we were going. Typically when Juliana first wakes up, while she is still in bed, and before she has any concept of spacial awareness she asks one question: "Mommy, where are we going today?" And usually, the answer is "school" which means, to the rest of the world, daycare. And for some unknown reason, the child bounds out of bed while concurrently yelling "Yay! SCHOOL!" and then she stumbles around until she finds a wall (or the bed...or me) that can stabilize her until she can get her bearings.
So when Juliana woke up on Saturday and she asked where we were going and I said (giddily) "A Christmas Festival!" she looked at me like I'd lost my mind and promptly rolled back over and said "No. I want to stay home.
I tried to explain to her that a Christmas Festival was like a Christmas party. There was going to be food and music and people who were all dressed up and maybe even gifts. Maybe even dolls! And wouldn't it be fun! to go see all the food and dresses and dolls! ?
But she held fast to her opinion that she wanted nothing to do with anything that involved being outside the house.
And so I waffled a bit, thinking, "Well, maybe it's best if we don't go. If she is already in a cruddy mood about it, just imagine how horrendous it could get once we actually got there." And then my realistic parenting kicked in and said "No! You are going. She needs to learn that she can't always have things her way, and that maybe if she tries something new she might even enjoy it!"
And so the decision was made: at all costs, we were going to the Christmas festival. It took two acts of Congress to get the child dressed and in the car but we made it, and as I stopped off at our bank to get some cash, I decided to get a little extra, just in case she was really good, in which case, I would buy her a nesting doll.
Well, Juliana was really good. And she did indeed get a nesting doll. And as we set down all of our goodies so they could tally the damage we had done, the priest of the church (who was in full regalia) began to try to converse with Juliana. Here's the rundown:
Priest: "And what is your name little girl?"
Juliana: " . . . "
Me: "Can you tell him your name? . . . . Her name is Juliana"
Priest: "Oh that's a pretty name! Juliana do you like Christmas trees?"
Juliana: "H O W L! howl! H O W L!"
That's right. Juliana howled, like a wolf, at the priest. And it wasn't a little howl either. It was a howl that reverberated through the entire church. And I wasn't imagining this when I say the entire church stopped what they were doing to see the little girl at the front howling at the priest.
As you can imagine, I was more than a little embarrassed and as I tried to just hand over the money and get. out. of . there, the priest continued on...
Priest: "Juliana, do you like Christmas lights?"
And as I was about to say "Juliana loves Christmas lights! Don't you Juliana?!"
But Juliana said: "H O O O W L!"
And I was awestruck. Really? Again? I quickly paid for our items and shoo'ed JuJu out the door of the church to a chorus of "Please come again!" from the little girls dressed in authentic Easter Orthodox type clothing with little flower crowns adorning their hair.
They might want to check with their priest before they offer to open their doors to just anyone.
Juliana didn't get in trouble for her little howling episode but she did get a firm talking to about when it's appropriate to howl (at home. but only if you're outside. never at a man dressed in weird clothes.)
And then I handed her the Russian doll and she hasn't put it down since.
Moving On.
The other day when I said I had a funny story and then I posted about how Juliana was being an absolute terror? Yeah. That was not the funny story. I think initially I had it in my mind that it was part of the funny story and in the end, well, I got a little distracted. Needless to say, I have a funny (now) story.
The day that Juliana threw the tantrums of all tantrums I had specifically noted on my calender that we had things to do. Most importantly, the Easter Orthodox Christmas Festival was in it's last day and we were going. Typically when Juliana first wakes up, while she is still in bed, and before she has any concept of spacial awareness she asks one question: "Mommy, where are we going today?" And usually, the answer is "school" which means, to the rest of the world, daycare. And for some unknown reason, the child bounds out of bed while concurrently yelling "Yay! SCHOOL!" and then she stumbles around until she finds a wall (or the bed...or me) that can stabilize her until she can get her bearings.
So when Juliana woke up on Saturday and she asked where we were going and I said (giddily) "A Christmas Festival!" she looked at me like I'd lost my mind and promptly rolled back over and said "No. I want to stay home.
I tried to explain to her that a Christmas Festival was like a Christmas party. There was going to be food and music and people who were all dressed up and maybe even gifts. Maybe even dolls! And wouldn't it be fun! to go see all the food and dresses and dolls! ?
But she held fast to her opinion that she wanted nothing to do with anything that involved being outside the house.
And so I waffled a bit, thinking, "Well, maybe it's best if we don't go. If she is already in a cruddy mood about it, just imagine how horrendous it could get once we actually got there." And then my realistic parenting kicked in and said "No! You are going. She needs to learn that she can't always have things her way, and that maybe if she tries something new she might even enjoy it!"
And so the decision was made: at all costs, we were going to the Christmas festival. It took two acts of Congress to get the child dressed and in the car but we made it, and as I stopped off at our bank to get some cash, I decided to get a little extra, just in case she was really good, in which case, I would buy her a nesting doll.
Well, Juliana was really good. And she did indeed get a nesting doll. And as we set down all of our goodies so they could tally the damage we had done, the priest of the church (who was in full regalia) began to try to converse with Juliana. Here's the rundown:
Priest: "And what is your name little girl?"
Juliana: " . . . "
Me: "Can you tell him your name? . . . . Her name is Juliana"
Priest: "Oh that's a pretty name! Juliana do you like Christmas trees?"
Juliana: "H O W L! howl! H O W L!"
That's right. Juliana howled, like a wolf, at the priest. And it wasn't a little howl either. It was a howl that reverberated through the entire church. And I wasn't imagining this when I say the entire church stopped what they were doing to see the little girl at the front howling at the priest.
As you can imagine, I was more than a little embarrassed and as I tried to just hand over the money and get. out. of . there, the priest continued on...
Priest: "Juliana, do you like Christmas lights?"
And as I was about to say "Juliana loves Christmas lights! Don't you Juliana?!"
But Juliana said: "H O O O W L!"
And I was awestruck. Really? Again? I quickly paid for our items and shoo'ed JuJu out the door of the church to a chorus of "Please come again!" from the little girls dressed in authentic Easter Orthodox type clothing with little flower crowns adorning their hair.
They might want to check with their priest before they offer to open their doors to just anyone.
Juliana didn't get in trouble for her little howling episode but she did get a firm talking to about when it's appropriate to howl (at home. but only if you're outside. never at a man dressed in weird clothes.)
And then I handed her the Russian doll and she hasn't put it down since.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Some things you just don't grow out of...
So yesterday I ran (fast!) and I studied (till I cried) and that friends is why there was no blog post. But it was a good day, despite the crying, and it has only solidified my very strong opinion that my husband is the perfect man.
Not only did he run with me (in windy, cold, and generally gross conditions) he even made it kind of fun! I can home from work feeling like I'd been hit by a MAC Truck and came back from my run feeling particularly energize and even a bit mischievous.
I finally got up the nerve to start studying some of the quantitative (read: ungodly confusing math) section of the GRE. Let me just say that I had flashbacks to junior high and high school when my parents would try to help me with my math homework. And they really tried! It wasn't like they couldn't figure it out. It was just that, well, I didn't understand how they figured it out.
And it was frustrating because we were looking at the same information and yet I was baffled as to even how to begin the problem and they were frustrated because they couldn't figure out how to help me solve it with out straight up giving me the answer. They wanted me to leeeaaarrrnnn how to do it.
My mother insists that I must have been scarred at a very early age while I was learning math of some type. First or Second grade perhaps? (Which that's not fair, because my first grade teacher might read this and then, well... hell. Don't worry Mrs. Simpson, I'm sure you didn't scar me)
Anyhow, last night it was incredibly apparent that those math issues that I had growing up have only morphed into a more mature version of math issues. As in "Why in the bloody h*ll can't I get this right?! It makes no sense. It's probably not even possible. There. The answer is E. "A conclusion cannot be reached with the given information." Done. "
Except, if it were up to me, most of my answer would be E and then I would fail the quantitative part and then I would probably never get into grad school because English majors use math every single day of their lives.
Josh was very patient with me. We had a couple of name calling (funny!) episodes wherein we were both frustrated because neither of us solve problems the same way. I have more of a free flowing route to get to the correct answer (23000 is what percent of 25ooo? me: umm. ALOT of Percent. Just pick the biggest answer, unless it's 100% and then that's obviously not right, in which case, pick the NEXT biggest answer).
Josh on the other hand had a formula that he tried over and over again to teach me how to solve. He was so dedicated.
In the end we were all laughing and jovial but there was more than one point that I was on the verge of tears and just wanted to throw the book across the room.
I still just want to throw the book across the room, but it's good to know that Josh will on the other end to catch it. Thanks honey.
Not only did he run with me (in windy, cold, and generally gross conditions) he even made it kind of fun! I can home from work feeling like I'd been hit by a MAC Truck and came back from my run feeling particularly energize and even a bit mischievous.
I finally got up the nerve to start studying some of the quantitative (read: ungodly confusing math) section of the GRE. Let me just say that I had flashbacks to junior high and high school when my parents would try to help me with my math homework. And they really tried! It wasn't like they couldn't figure it out. It was just that, well, I didn't understand how they figured it out.
And it was frustrating because we were looking at the same information and yet I was baffled as to even how to begin the problem and they were frustrated because they couldn't figure out how to help me solve it with out straight up giving me the answer. They wanted me to leeeaaarrrnnn how to do it.
My mother insists that I must have been scarred at a very early age while I was learning math of some type. First or Second grade perhaps? (Which that's not fair, because my first grade teacher might read this and then, well... hell. Don't worry Mrs. Simpson, I'm sure you didn't scar me)
Anyhow, last night it was incredibly apparent that those math issues that I had growing up have only morphed into a more mature version of math issues. As in "Why in the bloody h*ll can't I get this right?! It makes no sense. It's probably not even possible. There. The answer is E. "A conclusion cannot be reached with the given information." Done. "
Except, if it were up to me, most of my answer would be E and then I would fail the quantitative part and then I would probably never get into grad school because English majors use math every single day of their lives.
Josh was very patient with me. We had a couple of name calling (funny!) episodes wherein we were both frustrated because neither of us solve problems the same way. I have more of a free flowing route to get to the correct answer (23000 is what percent of 25ooo? me: umm. ALOT of Percent. Just pick the biggest answer, unless it's 100% and then that's obviously not right, in which case, pick the NEXT biggest answer).
Josh on the other hand had a formula that he tried over and over again to teach me how to solve. He was so dedicated.
In the end we were all laughing and jovial but there was more than one point that I was on the verge of tears and just wanted to throw the book across the room.
I still just want to throw the book across the room, but it's good to know that Josh will on the other end to catch it. Thanks honey.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
You Know You've Picked a Good Daycare...
..when, upon sitting down to eat her tacos at Chipotle, your daughter says gracias! in response to you giving her a napkin.
Such satisfaction
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Doesn't Take Well to "No"
We've been having quite a bit of difficulty around our house the last couple of weeks ago getting Juliana to lose. the. attitude.
I'd like to think that I'd endure a litany of comments telling me what a bad mom I am for what I'm about to tell you, but frankly, I don't have that many readers so I think I'm safe.
We spank Juliana.
We spank her for not listening.
And frankly, can't most instances during which a preschooler (we've graduated! crazy) gets in trouble be linked to a case of not listening?
It's come to our attention most recently, however, that this whole spanking business is just not cutting it. But you know what else? Neither does time out. Loss of Privileges. Threats. Distraction. Firm Conversations. Letting her set the pace. Nothing works.
Today was the worst of the worst. Two major (maaaajor) meltdowns in less than one hour. And it's not like you can attribute it to being tired (it was 10:00 in the morning!) or being hungry (we just finished our mid morning snack!)
The first one was just completely out of the blue. The second is probably my fault. I took her somewhere to give her one more chance, when I should have just taken her home.
The thing I've noticed about sending her to her room is that she really hates it. But after about two minutes, she's good (and who wouldn't be?) because she is in there with enough toys and games to rival an F.A.O Schwartz.
So today: My living room looks like The Magic Cabin threw up in it. Every toy came out of the room. Juliana stayed in.
I hope for her own sake that this one works because Josh and I are at our wits end.
Friday, November 13, 2009
My Room
I'm entirely too lazy to take a look back and see how many times I've posted about how I'd like to decorate my room, so we'll just go ahead and say that since I don't recall a post about it in recent memory, I'm safe.
Behold the awesomeness:
All these lovelies are via various sellers at etsy, and as I mentioned before, I'm feeling a tad lazy so if you'd like you can find all of their shops by browsing my Seller's Favorite Items in my Etsy store. It should be noted that the wall decal (birch trees & birds) will be slightly different. My walls will be grey so my trees will be white and my birds will most likely be tealish. Or maybe yellow. Yellow and grey is so in these days. And you know how I strive for in-ness.
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