Self portrait, sort of. Not really.

This is all I can put together for today's self portrait. Partly because I want to share my absolute favoritest clogs ever right now until I find other clogs that become my favorites, and partly because my ENTIRE BODY HAS TURNED DISGUSTING.



I don't know what happened! I didn't start eating differently. I even ran out of my bestest ice cream sandwiches from Costco, so it isn't because I was eating one of those every day.

No, it's a mystery. But my body is not cooperating with me and it's ballooning.

So these, dear friends, these are the best part of me this week. My slightly swollen veiny feet, clad in my bestest blue woven Swedish Hasbeens.



I love Swedish Hasbeens. I even ordered some mustard yellow boots that I found on clearance somewhere, but sadly they didn't fit. Cause I couldn't pull them on my fat feet.

If my train of thought seems slightly askew, it's because it is. I just read this post by Aunt Becky (who is younger than me, and we call that irony people) on Mommy Wants Vodka that really has me thinking. And by thinking I mean staring off into space with an empty head.

Becky's right. It's beige paint, this watered down version of what's really going on in people's lives. I don't know anyone in real life whose life is beige paint. Oh, wait, there's a girl I work with who seems kind of beige until I remember that she was carrying on a long term affair with another married man and then broke both of those marriages up to be with her man, and there were kids involved and dogs. But if you met her? You'd totally yawn and think "beige paint," and you'd probably order her a cheeseburger because she seems kind of malnourished.

I actually feel guilty, writing something real and then editing it for content. I don't know why, it kind of feels like lying. And then sometimes I feel guilty for not editing the content. For telling anyone and everyone what's going on. Ack, this is a dilemma. Not nearly as big a dilemma as why the hell my weight keeps going UP when I'm eating LESS THAN I'D LIKE TO.

- H

Bathtime

Photo actually taken some evening last week while I gave my kids a bath. We were having a heat wave (hey, yay, we're having another one now, yay! I love the heat and humidity, bring it on!), during the throes of rotovirus. The worst victim that befell its charms was my husband, by far. He's just now recovering.



This is a glamorous life. Jealousy abounds, I'm sure.

On a positive note, Cooper was invited to go on a swimming playdate with his BFF Collin today, and his super awesome swimming skills so impressed his little buddy that Collin, who was heretofore resistant to getting water in his face or hair, he actually went underwater with Cooper! I wasn't there to see it, sadly. But I was super proud to hear that Cooper had helped Collin learn to swim, just a little bit more than he did yesterday.

And then there's Griffin. Sweet baby Jesus above, I need a new guidebook for parenting Griffin. There is one rule that must never ever be forgotten. Never never never never take your eyes or ears off of him. Ever. The risks are enormous.

I keep telling myself "this is a phase, this is a phase," and praying to God that I'm right. He's stubborn, listening is not an option in his mind, and his compass guides him in the direction of doing everything The Wrong Way. If you're supposed to be sweet and gentle to the dogs, then Griffin is going to pull tails and sit on them like they're horses.

He knows what he's doing is wrong, that's the super frustrating thing. He just doesn't give a damn and would rather get in trouble than be good.

And punishment? He laughs at time-outs. He scoffs at my threats of vinegar (brought about because of his absolute refusal to give up saying his favorite word ever, "Goddamn").

I do hope to survive this child. Suddenly, Cooper's tantrums and constant crying from the age of whenever-he-started-who-can-remember-this-shit-anyway to about two months ago seems much more tolerable. And now I can look at Cooper and see that he's a completely different boy than he was a few months ago. He's older. His behavior is much better. Thank you God.

- H

The portrait project

I recently ran across the 52 portraits project on the Southern Institute for Domestic Arts and Crafts, and I am somewhat surprised to say I kind of like the idea. Although her portraits are pretty and artsy and um, mine ar not.

I don't know that I can actually put together a true self-portrait, let alone one a week, but there are snapshots of my daily life that I'd like to capture.

I started today.

Griffin got sent home from school right after he got there for having "constant" diarrhea. Hello, rotovirus, it's been a while since we've seen you. Sorry to see you're sticking around for a little while, I'm sure there's a house somewheres else you could visit?

So my happy, carefree, wild as a spider monkey Griffin and I met my mom and my nephew for lunch. It's always fun when Griffin climbs the walls and performs death-defying feats of balance while you're trying to eat a meal at a restaurant. I made my mom sit next to him.

We climbed back in the car, and a few blocks down the road this is what I saw in my rear view mirror.


There is something so blessedly quiet about a wild toddler that's fallen asleep. With a book in his lap.

Oh, and this was my dashboard thermometer yesterday.


- H