Temptation is. . .

Temptation is buying bags and bags of pinata fillers weeks ahead of time. Those damn individually wrapped candies are just screaming my name from the top shelf they are hiding on.

Secret of Aging #1: Stiff Back

Here I share with you the secrets and wisdom of aging gracefully. No! No! Make it stop! I won't go!!!! Yes, gracefully.

The reason your back stiffens as you age. . .

It becomes harder and harder to get a full glimpse of your ever-expanding and/or sagging ass in the mirror. You see, it is a psychological defense mechanism. The less you can see, the more you can convince yourself it is still the same size and shape it once was thus protecting your delicate aging psyche from the truth.

If you are lucky, by the time you have a true old-lady's bottom -- wrinkled, drooping and held into place by giant panties -- the combination of stiff back, poor eyesight and the onset of dementia will allow you to enter your golden years convinced that your ass is still as firm and round as it was when you were sixteen.

What you can't see, can't hurt you.

Chili Nuts

My husband has a ritual. When watching a soccer match on television, he likes to have a glass of beer and something salty to munch on, for example, chili nuts.

Not so long ago, the all-important, the-world-will-implode-if-you-don't-see-it European Champion's League final was on tv, and the kids got to see a little bit of the game and have their first taste of chili nuts. Bonding over sports, a bizarre ritual, if you ask me, but the kids enjoyed it.

So the other day, Laney and I were doing some grocery shopping. While I pushed the big cart around and loaded it with boring food items, she pushed her mini shopping cart around and loaded it with healthfood, i.e.-sugary cereal, strawberry milk, and chili nuts for daddy. When we got home, she proudly showed him what she had bought for him.

Fast-forward to that evening -- as Laney was getting ready for bed, she asked her father, "Aren't we going to go downstairs and watch soccer and eat chili nuts?"

Wow!

Thanks everyone for the kind comments on the last post! So it really isn't just my mom, my friend Lin, and my husband's nephew's wife who look at this page regularly.

I was truly touched.

And inspired.

To write!

And to be fair to "Crackbook" as Kim called it, much of my recent time away has been thanks to out-of-town visitors and spring cleaning.

I am telling you now that if anyone in this house develops a dust allergy, it will be the end of us all. The one with the allergy would probably die of a fatal allergic reaction (there IS that much dust around here), and I would succumb to a heart attack in trying to chase the tiny particles away.

As an aside, another "benefit" of being short is that many dust-collecting surfaces are above eye-level. I forget how the dust is piling up on those surfaces until I go into one of my frantic must-dust-everything-within-reach-or-I-will-die modes, then am horrified by the amount of dust I have been allowing my children to breathe in. Oh, well. Out of sight, out of mind, I say.

Thanks again to everyone for all of the great comments!

More excuses

I had been wondering what the problem was. I just haven't been as motivated to blog as I had been at the start of last year.

There are the usual excuses, loads of laundry, nice weather, house to clean, must-be-out-in-the-nice-weather, attempting a vegetable garden, holidays. Oddly enough, I don't think those aren't really the problem.

When I started this blog, it was my attempt to keep in touch with the world. I figured this was a great way to record the funny stories and lives of my kids without forcing them down everyone else's throat. I could write away about my children, my life, and people could just come in at will and check in when they wished. After awhile, though, with few comments, I felt a little like I was talking to myself.

Although those of you that do comment, Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmwahhhhh! I love you! I love you! Blowing kisses your way and waving. . .

. . .from the stage, while clutching a golden statue and wearing a fur stole and ruby-red evening gown.

Oh, wait! My fantasies are inter-mingling there. Sorry about that.

Motivation has been lacking, why?

The problem is, I think, Facebook. I have become one of the millions of my generation that is addicted to Facebook. It's taken over blogging. It is the only explanation.

I give myself an allotted amount of time to hang out on the computer (a limit I almost always exceed, like I am doing today) to do "me" stuff. That includes the blog, returning emails, chats, whatever. The rest of the day, I do actually try to do stuff around the house, take care of my own children (Huh? Is that them in the street playing with knives?!), generally, make myself useful and have a life.

Facebook has been eating into the computer time. This morning, I chatted with someone I haven't seen in over a decade, and we chatted about other people I hadn't seen in over a decade. It was a lot of fun, but now I have passed my alloted time limit. I am sitting here on the blog, anyway. Bad, bad girl!

Of course, I miss the blog when I am gone too long. This is my space, after all -- the one place I come to talk about me, me, me, and my kids, my kids, and my kids, and if you're here you have to listen. (Hmmmm. Is that why there are so few people here?!) I also miss the people, like Jody, Heather, and andrewsmom, who are kind enough to check in here, but that I don't "see" anywhere else.

Weird, how that is. Makes one wonder about the changing nature of human interaction in the digital world. I think I will segue into a new post with that thought.

Let's see how long it takes me to do it this time. A day? A week? Two? Two years?

Ah, the excitement and thrill of coming to churakagi.blogspot.com is just too much sometimes, isn't it?

This post was really an excuse to let you know that I am here. I am alive. I have not been run over by a truck. I will be back.

Flies on the Wall

The kids and I were sitting out in the yard enjoying a beautiful spring day when I heard an obnoxious buzzing sound.

Flies. They've begun their buzzing, but this was a little louder than usual.

Upon closer inspection, I discovered it was two flies. Mating.

"Oh, no," I exclaimed. "Those flies are making baby flies!" I looked around to grasp something I could swat them with. If I could get them both, then I could prevent hundreds of flies from being born, perhaps hundreds of generations of flies even!

I needed something quick. A towel! Swat!

Dammit! I missed. (To my credit the naughty word stayed in my head.)

I sighed audibly and sat back down.

Nicky, who had been watching the excitement, asked, "Mommy, are those flies annoying because they are making babies?"

"Yes, very."

"Don't they know they shouldn't make babies? It is annoying to people."

Oh, honey. There are PEOPLE in the world that don't get that.

Exercise = more energy

Who comes up with this stuff?? I always feel like poo after exercising. Tired, sweaty, thirsty, and usually the makings of a headache.

Instead, I am thinking that I should embrace my chubby cheeks. It is the cheapest way to puff out the fine lines and wrinkles, after all.

Pure Genius.

Sentimental Twit

I have been recently having storage space-related panic attacks.

"So much CRAP, not enough place to put it all!!"

My heart begins to race and stress levels rise as I look at the sea of clutter that surrounds me. As soon as I feel like I have got it under control, a clutter tidal wave of kids and husband crashes over me.

Today, as I am packing away a bunch of cleaning supplies (oh, this EXCITING earthly existence I lead!), I came across a bulb syringe we had from when Nicky was born.

You know, the thing that suctions your baby's nose before he learns to blow it himself? Yeah, one of those things.

We took it from the hospital, at the suggestion of someone we knew, as it was much better than anything you could buy. (Our little contribution to the rising cost of American healthcare.)

It worked like a charm, an important tool in the comfort of our child. We saved it and brought it half-way round the world to use for our second child. Then, it somehow managed to find its way in the back of the laundry room storage closet.

It's broken now. A hole in the side keeps it from suctioning. I felt strangely attached to the bulb syringe in my hand as I remembered those early days with my son. It was one of the things in his bag that came home with him when he was four days old. I sat there, deciding whether or not to throw it away or pack it away.

Never mind that I have no plans to use it ever again. Nevermind that it is broken and couldn't be used again, anyway. Nevermind that I used this thing to suction the snot out of my childrens' noses. Um, gross. I was contemplating whether or not it should make it's way into the trash.

Needless to say, it is in the trash now.

And I have had to admit I have my own little part to play in the clutter tidal wave.

A tiny, tiny, tiny part, but hey, I did throw the darn thing out, didn't I?

Try asking my kids or husband to throw out useless clutter. Good luck!

Work It Girl

Laney loves the camera. (My how different my kids are in this regard. Nicky acts like your infringing upon his human rights if you ask to take a picture.)

So earlier in the year, she asked me to take her picture. Suddenly, she started rolling around on the floor and posing in model fashion, without any prompting from me.

Laney, SuperModel

Then it was Mommy's turn to pose.

It is probably best this way.