Overheard

When it comes to baby books, I'm the stereotypical parent. My oldest had a beautiful baby book, all the pictures and page layouts carefully done, all the details meticulously documented. That went clear until he was two.

Then I started medical school, a few years later, had another baby, then residency, then another baby. That was pretty much the end of that. Not a single picture has been  put in a photo album for 10 years.

I don't really regret it, because there are tons of pictures. Those pictures play as a slide show as our computer's screen saver, and we look at them all the time. And I keep telling myself I'll get around to those baby books...eventually...when no one is a baby anymore.

The one thing I do regret is that I don't write down all their little conversations and silly quotes. I love those so much and no matter how I try to remember, I end up forgetting.

...........

Overheard in the back seat of the minivan:

Monkey: I hate this song.
Bug: You hate most songs. You only like maybe 5 songs. If it isn't one of those 5 songs, you hate it.
Monkey: Well...I'm thinking of adding a sixth.

.........

Overheard in the backyard, while boys were setting up croquet set:

Duck (swinging the croquet mallet down on the the wicket): Hi, ho, hi, ho...(in his best Dumbo impression of the workers setting up the tent.)

.........

After calling him multiple times to come up to the table for dinner:

Monkey: Mom, do you know what would better? If you said, 'Get up to the table, Buster!'

...........

Checking out books at the library, suggesting different books and genres he might like:

Bug: Yeah, Mom, I already know that graphic novels and dystopian literature is. I'm not in elementary school anymore.

...........

After our house was staged to be put on the market:

Bug: I hope our house sells fast.
Me: Why? I thought you didn't want to move.
Bug: I hate keeping it this clean. And I hate all the art work.

.............

This morning, getting Duck out of his crib:

Duck (big, beaming smile): It's a beautiful day! I slept so good!

.............

This was a little bit ago, but still too cute to not write down:

Monkey: Mom, why would anyone live in New Hampster?

Sincerely

Dear Mini Van,

I know that I've spent many years ridiculing you and how you represent the stereotypical large family, with a crazy stay at home soccer mom, a back windshield plastered with a stick figure family, and toys falling out of every door. Previously, with my two kids, I was snobby about my non-mini van family.  Now, with everyone all cramped together, car seats galore, and climbing over the seats and each other, you sure are looking good.

Sincerely,
New mother of THREE

______________________________

Dear 49ers,

Congratulations on making it to the Super Bowl.  It's been a very long time.  (Although I would have loved this moment even more if you had stuck with Alex Smith.)  Now please, please, please, for Hubster's sake (and by extension, all of ours), continue your perfect Super Bowl record and win tonight.

Sincerely,
A fan by marriage
_______________________________

Dear SUV, DVD player, desk top computer, oven, iPhone charger, garage door opener, hot water heater, and kitchen chair,

Please stop breaking.

Sincerely,
Homeowner without unlimited income
________________________________

Dear residency,

We've spent a lot of time together over the last four years.  It's been a rocky relationship.  I'm sure that at some point, I'll be able to look back and realize all the things you did for me. That's I'm a better person because of you.  Today is not that day. It's not me, it's you.  You can't get done with fast enough.

Sincerely,
Counting down the days
________________________________

Dear Duck,

You are getting cuter every day.  Could you just not grow up quite so fast?

Sincerely,
Your absolutely smitten mother
_________________________________

Dear Internet,

Could you please stop having so many wonderful things on you?  Boards are in July, and that study book isn't going to read itself.  But with every thing on The Onion, and Slate, and Facebook, and blogs and Pinterest, and YouTube, it may have to.

Sincerely,
Someone who clearly isn't studying right now
___________________________________

Dear Baby Fat,

I hate you.

Sincerely,
Someone who doesn't even remember her pre-pregnancy body

The Funk

Taking a multivitamin.

Exercising.

Blogging.

These are all things that I know I should do. But lately, I just feel like I can't. Alright, I know that blogging isn't technically something that I "should" be doing, more like something I'd "like" to be doing, but it feels about the same.

In the same way that I look at my bottle of vitamins and think, "You know what? I just don't feel like taking one today." Or walk past my weights and stationary bike and think, "I could...but I'm not going to." That's how blogging has been right now.

It's not writer's block. I have whole posts, completely formed, tumbling around in my head. They are somewhat good, too (at least in my head they are.) I just completely lack the motivation to sit down and right them.

I'd apparently rather spend my time off work perfecting my Wii sword-fighting skills or shopping online for that dining room table we can't afford.

I could blame it on the weather, but I don't really feel like doing that right now either.

So, excuse me while I leave you with this post about how I don't want to post anything while I go and lose to my eight year old at Wii again.

I wonder if I'd win if I took my vitamins.

The System

Each evening, across America, a battle takes place in living rooms, on sofas, and between recliners. The battle for the remote.

Okay, that was a little bit dramatic. I'm just saying, most men and women tend to like to watch different types of television. Hubster and I are the same. However, we don't fight over the remote. I actually like football, and Hubster is slowly coming to appreciate Survivor and cooking competition shows. And then there are the things that we both agree on: 30 Rock, Office, and Mythbusters.

But when it comes to movies, we're not on the same page.

There is definitely shared territory. We both love Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, the Borne Trilogy, and Spiderman.

But I also love movies like Pride and Prejudice and Finding Neverland. If I'm going to rent a movie, I tend to choose something like The Time Travelers Wife, or Eat Pray Love. In other words, movies that Hubster has branded "depressing."

Given his own devices, Hubster picks movies like Grown Ups or McGruber. Movies that I resort to calling "juvenile."

So, when you have such different taste in movies, how do you make it work so that when the weekend comes around and there is time for a movie, things don't come unraveled and you end up watching The Fellowship of the Ring for the umpteenth time?

That's where the system comes in. The movie system.

We trade bad movies.

I rent Revolutionary Road. I cry during the movie. Hubster loudly proclaims the movie to be disturbed and depressing. I agree and I owe him a movie. He makes me watch The Informant. And now we're equal. (Okay, The Informant was really good. Don't tell him that.)

He makes me watch McGruber. I spend the entire movie shaking my head about how terrible it is. Hubster has a moment of embarrassment over his middle school sensibilities. And he owes me a movie.

And I'm taking my time, trying to decide between Eat Pray Love or Love and Other Drugs.

Movies we both like don't count towards the score.

Technically, I think that I'm actually behind, since I've submitted him to countless chic flicks that he always hates and I end up liking many of the action movies he chooses.

Now, if only we could find just as good a system for who gets to take out the garbage now that it's 10 degrees outside.

Skill Set

Monkey's hair had been getting a little bit long. As in hanging in his eyes, getting knots in it in the morning, difficult to comb long.


I usually put off cutting my boys' hair until I have to. First, taking two boys to get their hair cut isn't exactly the most fun to be had on a random afternoon. Secondly, it's expensive. Even the cheapest hair cut I can find, we don't leave the place looking more like boys and less like sheepdogs for less than $20. And it's usually $30.

I know. Call me cheap. But see...my mother always cut our hair. I never paid anyone to cut my hair until after I got married. My mom still cuts my dad's, my brothers', and my sisters' hair. So spending money on a hair cut seems a little excessive sometimes.

These days, we're all trying to see how far we can stretch our money.

So, this time, when Monkey's hair starting getting in his eyes, I decided I would follow after my mother, and cut it myself.


You guys, I have a lot of skills.

Turns out, cutting hair is not one of them.

It was so crooked, choppy, and uneven. For the life of me, I couldn't figure out how to make it any better. Every snip of the scissors seemed to make it worse. I tried our set of clippers, but that made things even worse. 45 minutes into the process, I was in tears. What had I done to my baby's beautiful hair?

I realize that this picture doesn't do the atrocity justice.
I didn't have to heart to document the back of his head.

Hubster would like you all to know that he was against the whole thing from the very start.

I guess my lack of skills shouldn't come as a surprise. When Hubster and I first got married, we were barely making ends meet, the proverbial "church mice." I tried at that time to cut Hubster's hair to make our budget go a little further.

I cut it once. He went that same day to get it fixed. He's never let me near him with a pair of scissors again. It's a running joke. I'll offer to cut his hair. He'll get this extremely uncomfortable look on his face, because he doesn't want me to, but he doesn't know how to say it without hurting my feelings. And then I laugh.

So when I starting cutting Monkey's hair, he would occasionally walk through the kitchen, shaking his head, but biting his tongue.

Even when he looked that my final attempt, he was kind enough not to say anything. But he did agree to take Monkey in the next morning to have a professional fix the damage I had wrought on our son's locks.

I didn't go with them. I just couldn't bare to have to face someone and admit what I had done. Although Hubster reported that the lady said "It happens all the time."

Monkey didn't seem to mind what his hair looked like at any phase is this process.

As for me, I think I'll keep my day job.

Searching

There are plenty of things to obsess about. Like how we are going to manage daycare next year, who I'm going to find to mentor my resident research project, and that Survivor starts this next week.

One of the things that I don't obsess about at all are my blog numbers. The number of followers (although all are welcome and enjoyed), the number of visitors, the number of hits.

But I'll be honest, I do love the key words on my Goggle Analytics.

It's always interesting (and occasionally confusing) to see how people come across my neck of the woods, so to speak. For example...

"Boys don't appreciate swimming"
Well, if you just throw them in the deep end, it's true. They don't. They also don't really appreciate a kiddy pool in the backyard full of ice cold water from the hose. (Although, I assure you, none of those occurrences have ever been documented here.) What's with kids these days?

"Why I hate Wuthering Heights"
I don't know why you do. And I don't think you found anything here to add to your dislike. Although my mom hates it too. You should talk.

"Just walk it out"
It's true, this would probably work. It worked as a child. At least that's what we would tell each other when we fell off the roof or out of the tree that we had explicitly been told to stay away from by our parents. I wonder why I don't use this more often.

"Closet optimist"
If you're truly looking for a closet optimist, you'll have to look else where. I am a self-proclaimed, rose-colored glasses, glass-half-full type of girl. There is no closet here. Only there is, it's just filled with Transformers and 50 piece puzzles.

"He took up the slack"
Boy, does he ever. Apparently, Hubster does such a great job of doing this, even Google is aware of the fact.

"Mature, loves boys"
Well, I attempt to be mature. And I do love my boys. And if you mean this in any other way, you are free to leave. Actually, I insist.

"Medical school is hard, how to survive"
Ooh, I don't think I can help you here. And I'm sure that reading my stories don't help. The only thing I can tell you is that it is hard. And that almost everyone comes through the other side. You survive the same way the rest of us do. One day at a time, one moment with loved ones at a time, one latte at a time.

"Optimists make poor decisions"
Hey! I resent that. We make perfectly good decisions. Although I did think the eggplant would go over well, so maybe you have a point.

"Post call haze"
Ah, yes. The "30 hours straight, paged non stop, can't feel my feet, can't remember where my car is, thank goodness no one died" post call haze. I'm not sure if you're looking for a definition or a solution. No amount of reading will provide satisfactory definitions. And there is only one solution. Sleep. Glorious sleep.

"My female ego"
I'll be the first to admit, I've got one. I was pretty sure that I didn't. But I get off easy and call it maternal instinct.

"Mom making me do worse at school"
Never! After all, the only reason I follow you around the house asking questions about how your day was, who you played with, what you learned, where is your homework, when is this due, and why did you spell it that way...that was all love.

"Self-help for optimists"
Like I said before, I'm good.

"Who is The Katherine Wheel"
That is the question, isn't it? I've got the demographics pretty much nailed: 20-something, wife, mom of boys, anesthesia resident, newly Midwesterner. But as to who Katherine really is? That's something that always in transition. I was a painter, now a DIY home owner. I was a poet, now I'm a lullaby singer. I was a student, now I'm a life-learner. I was a uptight mountain girl, now I'm a laid-back flat-lander. Who is Katherine? Now that's the real search.

Dressed Up

I have developed a new love. One that may actually be healthy for me, as it doesn't involve anything with butter, cream cheese, or marshmallows. One that allows me to show the feminine side I try to cultivate in my house full of boys. One that shows my softer, romantic side.

I've started wearing skirts.

Previously, I was a skirt-hater. A livid, staunch skirt-hater. I hated how fussy they seems (as I always thought before I needed pantyhose and a slip.) I hated how confining they felt. I hated that I had to be a little more careful in them, as to avoid giving the public a free show. They felt like the worst thing in the world to be chasing two little boys down the aisle of Walmart in. I hated that they were either skimming the floor (making me trip over them) or above my knees, exposing my most disliked body parts.

I had not worn a skirt voluntarily for years.

Last December, we were invited to a formal Christmas party. And due to the previous skirt-hate, which was also dress-hate, I had nothing formal adult holiday gathering appropriate. I didn't own a "little black dress." I didn't even own a giant tent shaped dress. I had nothing. So I swallowed my angst and went out to buy a simple black skirt to go with an absolutely fabulous Ann Taylor blouse that I adore. One that didn't scream nunnery or street walker.

When I came downstairs dressed in my skirt, ready for the party, I actually thought I looked kind of cute.

But it was my boys reaction that cliched everything.

They were speechless. Bug and Monkey didn't remember ever seeing me in a dress. Their shock quickly changed to delight as they clamored about pretty I was. Monkey was darling as he squealed, "Spin around, Mommy! Dance with me! Dance with Bug! Dance with Daddy! Dance with my dog!!"

Since that time, I've developed my own little love affair with skirts. I can admit that I was wrong. I've come to realize that skirts are easy to wear, casual as well as dressy. And I can still tackle a three year old and strap him into a shopping cart while wearing a khaki skirt as I can wearing jeans.

I'm enjoying my new fashion love...


...And the look on Hubster's face when he saw me in the dress I got for our anniversary.

Nursery Magic

The Velveteen Rabbit is a story very familiar to many of us. The small stuffed rabbit who is loved so much by a little boy that he eventually becomes a real rabbit is an endearing tale

And it's easy to stop just at that.

But I can't.

I've seen the Nursery Magic come alive in our own home.

(What? Magic?! This coming from the woman who tells her children Santa isn't real? Yes. Bear with me here.)

It all started with this...


A stuffed toy tiger that wasn't even supposed to be ours.

We were visiting my grandmother in Oregon for Christmas one year. Bug was three at the time. My grandmother had bought some toys so that the grandchildren (and great-grandchild) would have something to play with during their visit. The tiger was among the toys, and supposed to be a "communal" toy.

Bug took one look at that tiger, grabbed it up in a ferocious hug, and never let go. He named the tiger "Stripey" almost on the spot.

And that is how Stripey joined the family. Literally.

Stripey soon found he had a place set for him at the table. Bug insisted he be included in playing board games and in story time. Stripey needed his own kisses goodnight.

It was all just very cute in my mind, a lot of make-believe, until one day, when Bug was asked to bring a favorite toy to preschool, I asked him if he was going to take Stripey. He said, no, because Stripey was real, and not a toy.

It was then that I realized the Nursery Magic had found us.

Especially when Bug started telling me that we had four people in our family: Daddy, Mommy, Bug, and Stripey (this was the pre-Monkey era.) He also told me I had two children: Bug and...you guessed it...Stripey.

It didn't end there.

Monkey loves animals. He especially loves dogs. And since a real dog is not in any foreseeable future, we got him a special Christmas present when he was two years old.


And that was when Dog joined our family. (Yes, let's all take a moment of silence for Monkey's creativity.)

Dog gets his teeth brushed, stories read to him. He gets to sit in the shopping cart, and he needs naps.

I would just brush it off as two little boys who love a set of stuffed animals immensely. But this is the wonder of the Nursery Magic.

Other children sense it too. Dog and Stripey are favorites of other children. When we would go to visit friends and family, the other little kids would run out and ask if Bug and Monkey had brought Stripey and Dog. Other children spend time hugging and petting these two toys.

Do I think there is real Nursery Magic and that Stripey and Dog sit together at night, staring at the moon, having existential conversations about their mortality? No. Do I think that these animals are so loved by two little boys that even other children can sense it? Yes.

And that is why, for us, the very dirty, worn out, faded tiger and dog are very much real.

Tooting My Own Horn

Who passed boards*?

I did.

I would tell you my score, but then I would just be bragging. But it was really good. Not as good as my Step 1 and Step 2 scores. But that's expected. I studied 4-6 hours a day from March until June for Step 1. I studied 8-10 hours a day for 4 weeks for Step 2. I studied 2-3 hours a day for 15 days for Step 3. The scores correlate as such. Who cares? I studied for 2 weeks and did fine.

Who did a happy dance when they found out they passed?

I did.

Who is forcing her family to go out and celebrate with her?

I am.

Who can cross one thing off her to-do list?

I can.

Who should call her mother so she can find out in person instead of reading it here?

I should.


*"Boards" is the term used to refer to the steps of the United States Medical Licensing Exams. There are four steps or parts. Step 1 and Step 2 are taken during medical school. Step 3 is traditionally taken during intern year. The next test I have to take is at the end of residency. That is where the term "board certified" comes from.

At least now I know better

Last night at dinner, Bug said something about "salmon skiing." We were confused for a moment, and then realized he meant "slalom." We had a good laugh, especially as I remembered I had thought the same thing as a kid.

It got me thinking about other misperceptions I had as a child. Obviously, there are a lot. We all have them. Many of them are just based on a blissful ignorance of the world.

But a couple have stuck with me, just because of how silly they seem now.

When I was little, I used to ask my mom what my name was going to be when I grew up. Katherine seemed like a little girl name. I didn't know any grown ups named Katherine. I was convinced that when I grew up, I was going to get a proper, suitable adult name. Like Kimberly.

Just like my boys do now, I remember getting into bed with my parents. And when my dad was out of town, it was the biggest treat to actually be invited to sleep in my mom's bed. But she would always joke about how much we moved around at night. This translated in my mind that grown ups must sleep very still. I used to practice lying in bed at night, on my back, with my arms and legs straight. Not moving. Of course, I never woke up in this still, stiff position. But I kept practicing. There was no way I was going to bother my future husband with my moving around at night.

When I was about 7, the most wonderful thing in the world was to grow up and be a teacher. And in my mind, from having a literary diet heavy on Laura Ingalls and Anne of Green Gables, I was sure there was nothing more wonderful than teaching in a one room school house. Little did I know I was at least a century too late for that.

But at that time, I was pretty sure we would have flying cars by the year 2010, as well.

Corn Country

They grow good corn here in Iowa.

At least that's what we've heard.

And if quantity is any sign of quality, it must be true. Because corn fields flank nearly every road and make up much of the scenery.

We decided to try the local corn out. Because honestly, Wal-mart corn just wasn't cutting it.

We made our way to the local farmer's market. I wish that I had brought my camera. The tables of heirloom tomatoes, and new baby squash, and jars overflowing with fresh cut bundles of herbs, and the backs of trucks filled to the rim with corn was beautiful.

We bought our dozen corn and went home and peeled it on the back porch, enjoying the evening.



Turns out, they're right.


The corn here is mighty good.

Behind the curve

I have a brother-in-law that buys new technology the moment it hits the shelf. He is always the first one with the newest iPhone, the latest movie-viewing machine, the most recent gaming system.

We take turns making fun of each other.

He reminds me of that scene from "The Wedding Singer," when Glenn buys a CD player for $700. If my BIL would wait, even a couple months, many items would be cheaper and better.

He makes fun of me for waiting so long. When I mentioned the Wedding Singer scene, he asked if I would wait 20 years to buy new technology just so I could get it cheaper.

And I'll admit it. When it comes to technology, I'm usually behind the curve. And it really doesn't matter what form that technology comes it.

I didn't get an e-mail address until I was a freshman in college in 2000, well after all my friends had e-mail. I was the last one of my friends to get a debit card, and it was getting fed up carrying a newborn Bug into the gas station to pay for gas that finally convinced me. We had dial-up internet forever! Well after high speed dial-up, DSL, and then cable internet came along, we were still trucking along with our good old NetZero account. I don't have a laptop. I just got an iPod.

Some of it because I'm cheap (or frugal. Yeah, let's go with that). I'll admit it. It was hard to imagine that paying $30 plus dollars a month just for internet would ever be worth it, when we were getting our dial-up for $6.95/month (we had gotten a special deal by threatening to change services.) So what if I spent much of my undergraduate career wanting to throw things at the computer while waiting for pages to load...at least my frustration was cheap!

The other part of it is I'm always a little skeptical if the new technology will really make things better. Maybe it's just another way to brag about how "with it" you are.

But this week, we've made a change that would have my BIL cheering for joy.

We got DVR.

I wasn't sure we needed it. After all, we had a VCR. I could just set it to record shows while I was at work or at the lake. I had even gotten quite good at setting multiple grograms on the VCR. Yeah, it was inconvient. Yeah, sometimes we misjudged the start or end time and never knew how LOST ended. Yeah, the quality of the picture was lacking (nowhere near as amazing as the HD picture Hubster insisted we sign up for the minute we bought a new TV.) But still, we already had the VCR.

(But now that I think about it, I'm not exactly sure what happened to our old, boxy, non-LCD-flat-panel. I'm beginning to think it may have had some help meeting it's untimely demise.

Anyways.)

So, I wasn't convinced.

But we have crazy schedules. Now probably more than any other time. And I've started the nasty habit of falling alseep during the season premier of Psych, or before the champion is named in Chopped. Hubster doesn't really have time to constantly be programming the VCR, especially now that fall premiers are right around the bend.

I was sold on the DVR within 2 minutes of having it. I could record all the new episodes of America's Got Talent. And watch it whenever I want. In HD! We can record two shows at once. No more conflict between Survivor and LOST. And recording is easy: just a push of a button. No more timers, making sure the VCR clock is aligned with the TV clock, worring about how much tape I have left, wondering if I really turned the TV to the right channel.

I thought the cable menu was the best thing that ever happened to TV watching (seriously, how does anyone do it without it?) I've decided now that DVR is going to take TV watching to a whole new level.

I think I'll call my brother-in-law and let him tell me "I told you so."

How may I help you?

I think Lowe's is failing its customers.

(Home Depot probably is, but as there is no Home Depot here, and I've never bought anything from them, I can't be completely sure.)

Lowe's really needs to add another layer to their employee training.

The skill to size up a customer's ability to actually do the project they are buying materials for.

Let's say, hypothetically of course, that a Lowe's employee has a couple come through their check out lane. That couple is buying 7 blank doors, a hinge and lock drilling kit, the hardware for said doors, and about 20 gallons of paint.

The appropriate thing to do would be to say, "Have you considered pre-hung doors? It's doing to take you hours upon hours to drill the holes for locks and chisel the slots for hinges. And then when you're done, you're going to find out that the door is a quarter of an inch too big anyways."

Or when the same couple comes through the next day with 30 boxes of Pergo flooring, someone should at least mention Lowe's installation services. Or mention the hours of frustration that couple has in front of them.

Yes, Lowe's offers how-to books. Yes, Lowe's offers (quite pricey) installation services.

But when a person is standing in the flooring, or lighting, or paint section of the hardware store, they are filled with sugar plum plans for their new home. They get excited about the possibilities. The more excited they become, the more confident they become in their own skills.

The Lowe's cashier could be their last link to reality.

100

I feel that for my 100th post (which came faster than I had anticipated) I should have something profound to say.

I'm sure I could think of something. I could thank everyone for reading. I could talk about how great a release this blog has been. I could say that the best is yet to come.

But instead, I think I'll just share this with you.

Soundtrack

Part of why movies are so great isn't the story or the characters. It's the background music. It always lets you know what to anticipate. Is someone about to be kissed or killed? Just listen and you'll have a pretty good guess.

I always wished that my life came with background music. Not only would I have a better idea of what to expect in my own life, it would just be cool.

So, I've created the soundtrack to my life.

This is not necessarily my favorite music, or what I listen to on a daily basis. But rather, it is the background music of where I've been, who I have been, who I am now, and what I (hopefully) am becoming.

(I also had to cut quite a few songs out. Because after 27 years, that would be a lot of music. And no one would buy a CD that had 462 songs on it.)


1. Lemon Tree- Peter, Paul, & Mary: My parents would sing PP&M songs as we road-tripped between California and Utah. I always remember sitting in the back of the car and falling asleep to the sound of Lemon Tree, Where Have All the Flowers Gone, and If I Had a Hammer. My dad also would play them on his guitar, whether it was around campfires or in the living room after dinner.

2. Annie's Song- John Denver: If there is a singer that reminds me of my dad, it is John Denver. When I was little, my dad had a list of songs taped to the back of his guitar. This one was on it. It was one of my favorites. He would play it and my five-year-old self would dance. Years later, he played it at my wedding, and I cried.

3. I'm Only Happy When It Rains - Garbage: I know: a big jump from PP&M and John Denver to Garbage. Besides that this song is "about" rain, and I love the rain and songs related to it, this is just a good song. It reminds me of my period of teenage angst. Bad days and good days and drives with my friends at night. Don't we all have that song?

4. I Love You- Donna Lewis: I asked some of my friends what songs reminded them of our time in middle school. This song was on all of their lists. I guess it reminds all of us of sleep overs, way too much sugar and nail polish.

5. You're All I Need- White Lion: This was the first (and only) song that Hubster sang to me. Just once. Back when we were dating, on the way home from a road trip. In the darkness of the car, lit by the instrument panel, him singing to me. One of the moments when how much I loved him hit me like a tidal wave.

6. Can't Help Falling in Love- Elvis: There was no way a soundtrack of my life would not have an Elvis song on it. Enough said.

7. Cable Car (Over My Head)- The Fray: No kidding, the first time I heard this song was after a very hard day in the hospital. Now, regardless of what the song is really about, it has become an anthem to the moments that I'm not sure I'm going to make it. (And you all thought I would choose another The Fray song.)

8. Unwell- Matchbox 20: There were days during medical school that I was sure I was falling to pieces and was never going to make it. I would sit on the kitchen floor and cry and ask to be allowed to quit. While I'm glad (I think) that I finished, it's hard to speak to how difficult those days really were.

9. If I had $1000000- Barenaked Ladies: Every time Hubster and I start talking about all the plans we have for our future, it isn't long before one of us says this. And we can't never hear this song without looking at each other and smiling and thinking how much we want for each other and our family. This is truly an everyday song.

10. Suddenly I See- KT Tunstall: The perfect song for all of us overly-ambitious, dedicated females. I felt that I could hear this music in the back of my head when I walked across the stage to receive my medical degree.

11. I Don't Love You Much, Do I-Guy Clark and Emmylou Harris: Okay, like I said, a little cheesy. But still perfect. I hum this song to my boys, because it is true.

12. When You Dream - Barenaked Ladies: I can't listen to this song without getting a little teary-eyed. Being a mother to two little boys had been the most amazing thing that I can imagine. And it is hard to find songs that speak to the hopes and wishes and insecurities and successes that parenthood provides without them being a little cheesy. But this song is perfect.

13. Closer- Better than Ezra: Every time I hear this song, I get that tingly feeling and I want to run and hold my family and thank them for everything and tell them how much I love them. This song, every since I discovered it one day among a bunch of songs Hubster had dumped into my iTunes, has become the current theme song for my life.


I know that it is an eclectic (although not random) collection of music, but isn't everyday like that? It was hard to sift between all the songs that I love and those that have strong memories and emotions tied to them, but in the end these are the ones that made the cut. (I'm sur that there will be a sequel sometime in the future.)

Music speaks to me (or at least I pretend that it is). These songs in particular always have something to say.

Through and Through

Whenever Hubster and I hear anyone refer to themselves as geeks or nerds, we just laugh.

Because we know the truth.

They have nothing on us.

It took a while, but we have completely accepted that we are true nerds, through and through. And now, honestly, we are quite proud of it.

I was a biology major with a minor in chemistry. Hubster got a double major in mathematics and physics. I was president of the science club in high school, winning silver metals in state competition. Hubster led his class to a championship in the "Knowledge Bowl."

And we are doing the best we can to instill these precious attributes in our boys.

They have a model solar system hanging from their bedroom ceiling. We encourage them to "play" on Google Earth for computer time. We spend afternoons at museums. Family movie night? Your pick: Planet Earth or Blue Planet. And for fun...

"Guess what we're going to do today?"

"What?!!!"

"Grow salt and sugar crystals!!!"

And that's what we do. And each day, they would oh and aw about how much the crystals had grown. Until finally it was the day to take them out and eat them.










And then I saw these flash cards on Uncommon Goods. And I WANT them for my two year old!



This is all for their own good.

With a physician mom, and a dad applying for dental school, being a nerd can really pay off. Well, we hope so. Someday.

Not in my job description

Last week, I wrote that Hubster and I did everything equally. That we shared all tasks, and willingly made up the slack when the other was stressed out of their mind and unable to function (which we take turns at about every other week.)

Well, I lied.

There are things that I simply will NOT do.

And I'm not talking about cleaning up puke, defusing exploding diapers, or cleaning up "what on EARTH is that?!!" stuff on the floor.

We both do that.

What I'm talking about it much worse.

I DO NOT smell suspicious food in the refrigerator.

Is that milk still good? I don't know, you smell it.

How long has this casserole been in here? I don't know, you take the lid off the tubberware container and look at the stuff.

Do we have any tomatoes? I don't know, you go digging around in the back of the produce drawer and tell me if everything is still recognizable.

I just can't bring myself to do it. I have puked into the kitchen sink after opening a three-day-old bottle. I'm pretty sure that smelling a may-or-may-not-be-expired gallon of milk, and then tasting it just to be sure, and having either one of those prove that, yes, indeed, the milk is bad, would ruin my ability to cook for at least a week.

And that would be bad. Because cooking is the one thing that Hubster does NOT do.

(Oh, and I don't kill spiders.)

Because it's Monday

Or it was.

And Monday is as good as anytime to start something new.

I was going to post this earlier. But a incredibly grumpy pair of boys and an incredibly invigorating round of Wii Fit have delayed me until right now.

I've been thinking about how to incorporate quotes into my blog. Because I love them. I avidly collect them. Anytime I come across on that I love, I must write it down. Books I'm reading, billboards, plaques at museums, commercials, the internet. The source doesn't matter. I scribble them down either in the notebook I always carry around with me. Or an scraps of paper in my purse. On on the back of envelopes on my desk. They are tacked up in random spots around my house.

So, if I haven't made it clear...I LOVE quotes.

I thought about doing something on my sidebar, but when I would change the quote, the previous would just get lost in the internet void.

So, I've done some posts with quotes in them (Which also allowed me to give my opinion about the quote and the person who said it. Because I do like to give my opinion.) But those posts just get lost in the archives, so really, it was no better. And there are so many other things that I would rather write about than quotes. I just really want to share my favorite ones with you.

So, I'm going to do a weekly quote. On my sidebar. (First, because daily is too frequently, and monthly is way too spread out, and secondly, because it is just easier there.)

So, tell me what you think of my weekly quotes. Sometimes silly, sometimes serious, sometimes famous, sometimes obscure.

And if you know any good ones, send them my direction. I'm sure I can find a blank piece of wall to hang them up on.

Fingerprints

You know how on crime shows, if the detectives find a fingerprint, everything is pretty much smooth sailing from there? Because they can just put the fingerprint in their computer and it comes up with a match. And then they have their suspect.

I've never been fingerprinted in my life. Never had any reason to.

So I always thought that if I were ever to commit a crime, I pretty much had a free pass. I could leave fingerprints over everything at the crime scene. It wouldn't matter. There wouldn't be a computer in the whole world that could match it to anything.


(This is off course assuming that everything else went well. Like no witnesses, video cameras, photographs, etc, etc. Of course. And that I would conjure images of Katherine Zeta Jones in Entrapment.)


Well, it looks like my days of getting off scott free are over.

Part of my physician licensing paperwork is going down to the sheriff's office and having a complete set of fingerprints taken and entered into the FBI database. This is all part of my criminal background check. To make sure that they are letting psychopaths become licensed physicians.

And apparently keep future criminal activity in check as well.

So there go my dreams of the perfect diamond heist.

Enough Already

Dear Utah Winter,

You suck. The groundhog saw his shadow. We did our obligatory six more weeks of winter. Enough already. The first of day of spring has come and gone. Just as you should.



In case you're a little out of touch, April starts tomorrow. What better reason do you need to cut it out already? Most of the country has its act together. Now shape up.

Bitterly,

Someone who has been stuck inside a tiny apartment with two rowdy boys and is completely out of indoor activity ideas and hates being cold in general

*****

Dear International Astronomical Union (or who ever is in "charge" of the planets),

I just finished a project with my son about the solar system, and we decided to leave Pluto in. Yes, that's right. We decided to go against new thinking that Pluto is not a planet, but a micro-planet. Have you stopped to consider the implications (gasp!)? Are dwarves, and other "micro" people no longer people?

Honestly, I think your time would be better spent renaming Uranus.

Sincerely,

A mom who hasn't told her kids that there are only 8 planets

*****

Dear, dear box of Dove Tiramisu Dark Chocolate Promises,

First, I would just like to thank you for being indescribably delicious.

I think it's very cute that your wrappers have little sayings in them. "Be fearless." "Send a love letter this week."

But I think it would be more appropriate if I unwrapped a piece only to find, "If you don't stop eating this chocolate NOW, you'll hate yourself tomorrow."

Wistfully,

A girl who needs a push in the right direction