Random Thoughts

This sign should be posted on my head.  It's a great example of the state of my brain at any given moment.  So is this previous ragtime post from A Homemade Kitchen.

This photo is also a great example of the stellar safety precautions in the area surrounding my work building.  I feel very safe.  Not only from myself but from the potential life threatening emergencies that could occur while I innocently work 9 floors up from this life saving device.  Thank you, Cambridge.

Running in the rain and splashing in puddles is delightful.  Especially when it includes the giggles and squeals of a two year old boy.

I have issues with pedestal sinks.  I realize their purpose is to be space saving and give the illusion of a bigger space but when I look at them I just think where the heck are you supposed to put your cleaners, toilet brush, extra toilet paper, extra hand towels, and other bathroom-y things you don't want to have out in the open? Oh yes, you can use baskets and open shelving for these things but do your guests really want to see your industrial sized tub of toilet scrub?  And if you put things in baskets, you basically just took up the space in the bathroom the pedestal sink was supposed to free up.  Maybe I'm lazy, I also don't want to go into another closet down the hall, or in the other room, or into the depths of a dank basement to get these things when I need them.  I want them there, now, and in my hands in a matter of seconds.

It irritates the living crap out of me when co-workers leave for the day or go on vacation and leave their cubicle lights on.  Like seriously.  Turn them off, you energy wasters.

I ran about 500 feet in flip flops and then had death darts shooting up my shins for a week.

Candy Crush Saga steals your soul.

Cilantro is the devil's food.

Calling chocolate chips 'potty treats' while in the store gives you confused and scathing looks from other shoppers.

My brain haunts me.  In the middle of the night, or while driving, or while sitting at my desk.  These thoughts are what develop into these blog posts.

You're a charmed reader, then, for willfully exposing yourself to my thoughts.

You are a smarter person for doing so.

Or dumber.

Or just as crazy.

Goodbye and shut your goose, clown.

Where Are You Going?

In the great expanses of life, where are you going?  Where do you plan to be in the future?  What do you want from your life, your career, your bank account?  Don't lie, we all know you want more.

I've been doing a lot of thinking and searching about what is best for me, my family, my career, and yes, my bank account.  But in the state I live in, the economy of this country, and the flat out working world, it is very difficult to get ahead, to make more money, and to basically thrive.  I don't know how people here are doing it.

But, I don't want to get political so I'm going to make this a bit more personal.  I'm thinking about adding a second job to my already ridiculously full schedule.  But not one that will eat up much more time away from home.  I am thinking about contributing to my family financially more successfully, eventually having some more time at home with my family, and did I mention this?  Having a bit more money in my pocket.

It's very difficult for working mothers to find a balance and be there for their children.  I am gone about 40 hours a week from my family.  This includes time in the office and commute time.  Thankfully I work one day a week from home so that cuts the commute time and lessens the hours that day I am away from my family.  This country makes it very difficult for mother's to find a better balance, to work more from inside the home, and to be with family.  It's all about work, work, work here and to better your chances, you have to work within an office environment, put in long hours, and prove that you want a career.

I have worked these past fourteen years full time without the push, without the drive, and without the passion to climb higher and higher.  I never wanted the big time job.  I wanted a family and a home.  But I do enjoy working.  I have done so much research and there aren't very many jobs that allow you to work from home and that pay decently.  It's sad these don't exist.

The internet is saturated with mom sites, mom blogs, and sites there to assist mother's in finding suitable jobs so they can still contribute to their family financially.  Believe me, I've searched and looked and there are helpful articles and sites but still very difficult to find a job that is worth it.

Now let's be clear - I am not leaving my current job.  I have great flexibility, great benefits, and I enjoy the work.  Who just doesn't want a little extra cash to help you out?

I'm still trying to figure that out and I may have an opportunity in the works where I can maintain my current job, do as much or as a little with the new opportunity, and potentially have more time with my family (which I realize seems like an oxymoron when I'm thinking about an additional job).  It is all still very new and in the starting stages but I'm hopeful.  I'm also scared.  I don't take risks but the day in which I spoke with someone who does what I'm thinking about doing, my daily calendar said "Your Inner Bitch Knows: "Success is never guaranteed.  She also knows that we are guaranteed to fail if we don't even try.  Take a chance on something that matters to you."  I'm not one for "signs" and deeper meaning but it was just kind of prolific at that particular moment.  And I have never had this feeling or motivation to really go for it with something this strongly in a long time.  It's also a sort of thing I never would have ever imagined myself doing because it was always something that had a stigma and point of annoyance with me.  Go figure.

I am probably a little insane to take on another responsibility when I just finished school but the potential benefits here may just outweigh this.

Or I am just insane.

But I will let you know and keep you posted.

Life is hard, man.

Let's Hear it For the Boys

Being a mother of a boy, I've discovered a few things for myself that I have only ever read about.  As he is only two, I know more and more are coming but for now, let's reflect on what is happening now.

1.  Boys are born thinking farts are funny.  Any rumble from down below triggers a multitude of giggles.  Once M farted so loudly at the kitchen table, it reverberated off of the wooden chair and actually startled J.  It may have been the only time J didn't think a fart was funny.

2.  The pull my finger game is fun at any age.  Just ask M.

3.  The penis pulling and scrotum squishing occurs immediately once the pants are off.  It doesn't matter if it's in the tub or sitting on the potty trying to pee.  The yanking happens.  And the peeing on the hand  happens.  Listen boys, it ain't ever going to fall off.  The morning salute also starts early.

4.  I'm not sure this encompasses all boys, but lately, J despises wearing any sort of sweatshirt, jacket, or coat.  You'd think I was trying to dip him into battery acid the way he wails and kicks.

5.  Their fascination and love of cars, trucks, airplanes, dump trucks, tow trucks, excavators, backhoes, helicopters, and transportation vehicles of any kind is profound.

6.  They love to hunt down bugs, watch them run around, and ferociously squash them with their bare hands.

7.  Consistently dirty fingernails, sand adhered to their scalp, and scraped knees is the norm.  The child would look a fool without these things.

8.  There is no sound decibel that is too loud.  Whether it be the TV or his own voice.  He is deaf to the volume.

9.  When my son raises his arms and looks at me with those deep blue eyes and in his perfect little voice says, "hug?", I will drop whatever it is I am doing and will scoop that little nugget up.  Even if it is when he is in the tub, sopping wet because I know, soon enough the eye rolling and the "you just don't understand, mom" and the "leave me alone, mom" will be upon me.  So far now, if that little boy asks for a hug, you bet your last red cent I'm giving that hug.

10.  Being called "Mama" is my favorite thing in the whole world.  And from his little voice.  I am putting in my request now that I shall always be called Mama and it shall always be done in that little voice.  Thank you.

11.  Little boys love their Mamas. Amen.

Plagued Thoughts about Children's Shows

Children's shows are weird.  While watching with J, I find myself over analyzing and have some plaguing questions.

Like how in the world does the person get into that Barney suit?  There is no zipper down the back like on the other character's costumes, it doesn't appear that the head fully comes off and I don't think that person could step into it.  Is there some sort of secret zipper in the nether regions?

I also think about BJ, Baby Bop, and Riff.  Like are those kids in the costumes or are they little people? And how do they see and how do the mouths move?

Zou is one of J's favorite.  It's actually a cute little show.  But why do the kid zebras have tails but the adult zebras don't?  Have they inexplicably fallen off?  I researched this.  Adult zebras in real life do have tails.  I don't get it.

I was a true Sesame Street fan when I was kid.  It was one of my favorites.  I am astounded that the people, like Maria and Luis, are still actually on it.  Like 25 years later.  For real?  Did someone tell you how to get Sesame Street and you couldn't figure out how to leave?

The Wiggles.  Seriously?  That's all.

The early episodes of Thomas and Friends are one of the strangest things I have ever seen.  It's the ones where they seem to be filming an actual train set with trains.  Then they make the most demonic looking clay (or something) faces.  It's very disturbing.  And even in the newer episodes where it's all animated and they have different people (FINALLY) doing the voices of the characters, why is it still a man that does the voice of Lady Hatt?  It aggravates me every single time I hear it.

I almost can't even write about this let alone post a picture.  It's what nightmares are made of.  It's the animated incarnation of the devil.  It's appearance sends me into shudders.  What demonic soul created this ghoul for children's television?  What supernatural power foretold you to name it Lalaloopsy?  The sewn on black button eyes are what do me in.

J does not watch Lalaloopsy because I will not permit it.  I don't think he'd care to anyways.  I just had to mention it because I caught a glimpse of it and could never unsee the horror.

I have a feeling that this post may end up in a series as J's television watching progresses.  Lucky you.

Feeling Small

The other evening, when I arrived home from work after a long day and even longer commute, I was greeted by the most amazing cloud.  It appeared as if it was growing out of the ground, sprouting up through a forest of trees, and piercing it's way into the blue sky.

It was incredibly beautiful.

It brought me back to the realization that here, on this earth, we are small in comparison to the creation that surrounds us.  This cloud was massive and overwhelmed me with the feeling of minuteness.  In the grand expanses of this world, we are one small part - in size. But in intellect, compassion, and humanity, we are huge.

Let's not forget where we began, where we are, and where we plan to go.

That was reflective and deep.  It won't happen often.

Because I'm really a crazy loon.

To Gym or Not to Gym

M and I met at the gym.  He was working there and I was working out with my friend.  I drove almost 25 minutes every night after work to go the gym.  The biggest motivation there though was seeing M.  Because of this, I was in pretty good shape.  Leading up to our wedding, I was in great shape.  The first year of our marriage, I was in the best shape of my life.  This was mostly due to the fact that M worked nights so he slept during the day and I didn't really have anything else to do.  So I hit it hard.

Like for real.  Look at that gun right there.  That was the last dance at our wedding.  I can without question state that my arms no longer look like that.

So anyways, M got a new job and I got done with working out so much.  I still did here and there and did videos at home.  Now, I'm a lazy dump.

In the effort of full disclosure, I am writing this sitting on my couch wearing sweat pants, a baggy T-shirt, and bare feet that are in desperate need of a new pedicure.  But my mind knows that being fit is healthy.  Here is my struggle.

I work full time, I have a toddler, a husband, a dog, and a home.  I lack the motivation, energy, and desire to work out.  I'm tired, people.  Like walking dead, fall down comatose tired most nights when I get home from work.  I take the dog out, go get J at day care, get him fed while simultaneously starting our dinner, get J bathed, and ready for bed.  Once he's down, I finish up dinner and M and I eat.  This leaves little time.  My desire is slowly returning because I know that one of the best things for J is a healthy Mama.  And healthy means exercise.

But going to the gym and working out requires time away from my home and family.  As I already work full time and am away from M and J a lot, I don't want to be away from them more.  The mom guilt is overwhelming.  Do I take that additional time away to do something good for me?

I could work out while J is napping on the weekends so I am not away from him while he is up and active.  I could also take that 7:30pm yoga class on a Monday night which is after he is in bed.  Then I think dude, it's a 7:30 - 8:30 yoga class which is basically my bedtime and I would rather collapse into my bed with my blankets and pillow and call them "my precious."

I have another struggle that is hard to admit and one others would probably poo-poo.  I'm going to be honest and it is not an attempt at self indulgence.  I am not overweight.  I never have been.  All the baby weight is gone and I am wearing all the same clothes I did pre-pregnancy.  As such, this doesn't give me a lot of motivation to go the gym.  However, I am very out of shape.  I can no longer run a mile and I can basically knock over a water buffalo with the air surge that occurs when I wave my arm.  I also feel uncomfortable at the gym.  I have gotten dirty looks from others where I believe they are thinking things like "seriously, what are you doing here, boney?"  This makes me uncomfortable in classes too.  I think people are giving me the stink eye.  This is probably my own insecurity - I know working out is healthy for everyone.

It's just hard to get motivated and drudge up the energy to actually do it.  Like right now, J is napping so I could actually be at the gym.  Except M is there and while I love my Maddux-friend, he's no Good Dog, Carl.

I need to figure out a balance and just do it.  I'm interested to hear what others do to fit this into their already full schedule.  Any helpful hints are great and my jiggly bum bum will appreciate it!  And so will M.  He is so into working out and health and he wants me to do it for that reason.  Some times though I want to punch him in the throat when he mentions it and be like oh really?  Am I THAT out of shape?  Seems to me you still have no problem getting attracted to me.  heh heh.

I'm sorry.

Shut Your Goose

I am starting another blog.

I know.  I’m a crazy whack-a-doodle.

But I think my original blog, A Homemade Kitchen, has kind of reached its point of going no further.  That is mainly my fault because I no longer hold the concentration or desire to focus on food and recipes (even though it did veer out of that arena and into others).  It was a place where I also documented my pregnancy so that will always be meaningful and something to look back on.  I still love food, cooking, and reading recipes and my first blog will always be special but I have other thoughts.  Random, baseless, empty thoughts.

I’m also done with school so I don’t have any more papers to write.

So, another blog! Hooray!

Again, I realize I am arriving to the blog party many years too late.  But to the naysayers, I shout “Shut your goose!”

And there readers, is my segue into how I arrived at the name of this blog.

Once upon a time, in the slouched sock, high side ponytail, tight rolled jeans, scrunchie wearing decade called the 80’s, my family would take my brother and I on yearly pilgrimages to the northern most point in their traveling adventures.  This rugged, mountainy area beckoned us almost each and every summer.  We were pulled, yanked, carted, and swatted around the bowels of North Conway.  A couple of times, we were swung a giant curve ball and we were brought into the notch, Franconia Notch.  During these getaways to said area, there was a quaint little restaurant that we would frequent in which to calm the morning tummy grumbles.  This place was called the “Snow Goose.”

Well, me and my brother thought this was the hippest egg slaying place in the whole world.  When asked where we would like to go, we would shout “the Snow Goose!”  Namely one morning, in my vacation morning glee, I shouted a bit too enthusiastically for my older, moodier, not quite awake brother who twisted, turned, and shouted right back to me – “Shut YOUR goose!”

I was fallen silent.

And then I laughed.  And then he laughed.  And then we had our saying for the often scolded phrase “shut up.”

It has been used over the years to quiet annoyances, playfully mock those inane comments, and to basically tell someone they’re an idiot.

Mine has graduated to “shut your goose, clown” to really nail the point home.

As such, I will ramble.  I will go off topic.  I will write about anything I feel like.  Basically, I will write about some things you don’t give one giant crap about.  And I will silently say to myself, along with you the reader, I’m sure, “shut your goose, clown.” 

But I won’t listen.  Because I don’t have to.