Amy Writes

I'm staring at this blank screen with a head full of thoughts, but none of them willing to organize themselves and dive into cyberspace. It seems like everyone I know (or kind of know) has cool stuff going on. The Crazy Disciple is prepping to move to Paris. The Cool Parents are in the midst of job and life changes. HipMama is just so...hip. Sublimidad has a new baby at home (and that baby is sooooo cute!) Brad and Mandi are at youth camp. I believe I have at least 7 pregnant friends - none of them bloggers, so no links here. Even Brant Hansen has so much going on that he's too busy to blog. I don't really have a point here, other than that I feel more alive when there are big happenings in our lives. I don't sit still well, and the foreseeable future has a lot of sitting still. Maybe it's vacation reentry catching up a little late. Or maybe I need to come up with something to stir up the waters a bit. Oh, but this is kind of exciting. This morning I made some...

I was due for a checkup. (Last June) After making and canceling a few (five?) appointments in the last year, I finally got around to it. (yesterday) I am a healthy, young woman. (in my opinion) I left with a bagful of prescription samples and a few referrals for various procedures, specialists and tests. (I also left with an irrational fear of dying on the treadmill, which I have decided is NOT how I want to go.) So I'm off to have 17 vials of blood drawn. One down, of at least 6 more occasions to find childcare in the interest of my own well-being. Or, someone's idea of my own well-being. I thought I was getting along just fine. :)

We were JUST talking about this. Picture if you will: a dozen or so brightly colored rubbery plastic ponies of varying sizes. All with shimmery hair and cutesy tattoos on their hindquarters, scattered throughout the main thoroughfare between kitchen and family room. They have been subjects of a game called "Stuff the Ponies in the Barbie Volkswagens," so the site actually looks like Godzilla's trophy wife went all DWI on the Miniature Pony Farm and left the scene. The command had been given to stable the ponies and impound the cars, but the cleanup crew was distracted by the salty, cheesy goodness of snacktime. I let it slide, as there were no new toys being added to the disaster. A second command was issued when it looked like snacktime was over, but I was informed that we were still eating and again, I let it slide. Then, visiting baby #3 woke up. She has a new game called "Zero to 130 in .3 seconds," or "I Have Been Awake For .5 Seconds It Must Be Time T...

Three small girls sleep peacefully in my home right now. One is gently swinging - awaking periodically to whimper or snort or sneeze, but returning to slumber, tucked snugly under satiny pink flowers. Another is likely crescent shaped, spooning her Cabbage Patch Angel Baby, thumb securely wedged between tiny teeth. The third is sprawled across a tiny bed, suffering a consequence for 90 minutes of battle with mom. Probably sweaty, probably sticky, bound to appear in my periphery at any minute. I, however, am awake. The phone is not ringing. There is no one online to talk to. My inbox is not chirping. I've caught up on small group reading, on blog reading, on pleasure reading. The house is generally clean, though there are projects I could tackle...but surely not finish, and surely not without waking a tiny human. Not 2 hours ago I was at the end of my rope, having done fierce battle with a strong-willed child who doesn't understand that "yelling at the top of your voice...

I wonder how much Red Bull Betty Crocker drinks this time of year. I wonder when she hits the wall and decides that no one else, not one more person, is getting anything homemade. Away with the condensed milk and powdered sugar and candy bark coating. Starbucks cards for everyone. Every year, I begin December with renewed ambition. Every year, I slam headlong into the Christmas wall. The only problem is that this year, I crashed early. I still have baking to do. But I hit the wall. Mid-cookie, actually. As I was pushing little Hershey's hugs into little fudgy circles this afternoon I thought, that will be enough, thank you. She asked for 3 dozen for tonight's exchange? She's getting 2. Into the fridge with the extra dough. (because in spite of my angsty talk here, I know I will finish the batch. I'm not one to throw out perfectly good cookie dough.) To date this December, I have made a huge batch of puppy chow, 24 minty brownies, 3 dozen peppermint shortbread cookies an...