Monday, April 28, 2008
Friday, April 25, 2008
I guess this is something that all parents do. My mom used to show me a model in the Victoria Secret catalog and tell me that she thought that was who I would look like when I grew up. Um ya ....thanks Mom. Maybe there's still time!
Monday, April 21, 2008
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
I don't have many friends, by my own choice. I just can't seem to find people that understand me and my passions, the way I live and love. (Thank God for Paul and thank God he understands me, sometimes I think he may be the only one. And that quite frankly is all I need.) The friends I do have I greatly treasure but even they don't get me, don't get why I wouldn't just want to give up all my dreams to be a mom. It is frustrating and lonely and I've given up trying to explain. The past four months have been the the best in my life and I find that I am more inspired than ever before. They have also been some of the hardest days, days that I question everything I do. Wondering if it is the best for Sam, Paul and me. I have discovered the days that I am working toward my goals I'm a better mom than days I'm not. I know I have a passion and I know that if I give it up I will not be the best mother I can be for Sam or the best wife I can be for Paul.
When I recently stumbled upon this blog I felt like I found someone just like me. This girl rocks and is an inspiration to me. I just finished reading her book, her dream, the one she thought she might have to give up or simply lose sight of when she became a mom. She is hilarious, passionate and real. She is another inspiration to me that I don't have to become the stereotypical mom with no life other than her children to be the best mom. I may have spit up in my hair and a pacifier stuck in my front pocket, but the spit up will be in my signature every changing hair and the pacifier will be stuck in the front pocket of my skinny jeans(when they fit again). Thanks Rebecca.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Monday, April 14, 2008
The last thing I want to do is turn the blog into a diatribe against things I don't like or to create a litany of pet peeves, but it's a lot easier to write about things that annoy us than it is to write about things that galvanize or inspire us...
So what the heck is up with this place??
If you've driven south on 95 past Northlake, you've watched this monstrosity sprout up overnight. Which is ironic because the closest thing to a mountain I've seen in Florida is made of silicone and can be found on South Beach. Let's see...the last time I was in the market for a traffic-cone orange, down, duck-hunting vest was...ummm....never! The moss-suit I spied in Cabela's in Post Falls, Idaho, however, is secretly on my birthday wish list...if I wanted to dress up like the Swamp Thing for Halloween. Maybe I'm just secretly afraid of people that shop for compound bows. In Florida (Though I did spot a herd of javelina on the side of 95 as we were coming back from Smellbourne. At first, I thought they were the remains of an 18-wheelers blow-out, but no...They were pigs! Big black hairy pigs! But the last thing that occured to me at the time was shooting one of them. I like bacon and all, but what was I going to do with a big fat hairy dead pig? Throw it in the back of my dad's BMW 750Li?), because it reminds me of Brian Winnie, this kid I went to 8th grade with at Jupiter Middle that was expelled from school for putting an arrow through the shoulder of one of our classmates with a compound bow as she was waiting for the school bus.
Like does this look like someone that lives in Palm Beach Gardens...Hmm...now that I think about it, I did see him coming out of Downtown at the Gardens on the FOX ("Keep-America-Scared") 11:00 news.
I don't own a gun. Maybe I should. Now that I have a family to protect. I guess I can bring it to work now? The only person I really interact with at my office is the Zephyr Hills guy that drops off the bottles for our water cooler. I really only see him once a week and I don't have any beef with the guy.
But sometimes I wonder what would happen if someone broke into our house and I needed to defend my family. There's this wooden stick that screws into the end of the paint roller I used to paint Sam's room. It's still in there. (Which doesn't seem like such a good idea now that he can grasp objects. I see that wooden pole meeting my shins in the near future.) I guess I could use that. If we were robbed by a pinata.
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Recently we scored this exclusive interview with the Mr. Sam Hanna:
Mom & Dad: We hear you've been spotted at some pretty swanky restaurants lately, what kind of food are you into?
Sam: Oh, I'm glad you asked me that. I discovered a posh little place in off-the-grid Jupiter, it has a really nice ambiance, the service staff is AMAZING and the milk is always just like I like.
M & D: Rumor has it you've been hanging with a pretty hip crowd. Any sparks?
S: Nothing serious, saw some red flags with Suri's family and Shilo and I couldn't handle doing the long distance thing from Botswana.
M & D: Sorry to hear...can you talk us through a typical day in the life of Sam Hanna?
S: Gee...where do I begin...? I typically wake before dawn because I have SO many things to pack into my day. I typically breakfast in bed. It's exhausting, see? So, I often crash for some mid-morning zzz's. Wake up and...gee, wouldn't you know it's already lunchtime? After lunch, I stroll down to the garage and choose one of my luxury rides to take for a spin. Park the wheels. Come home for a little play time. Then, I'm zonked. One more nap usually does the trick and I'm famished. Dinner with the 'rents. Slide back into my bubble bath and reflect on my day before I slip on my jammies have the help rock me to sleep and it's off to dreamland for me.
M & D: My goodness! How do you find time to rock such a sweet wardrobe? And what labels are you into?
S: Well, I try not to be TOO label-conscious...But since you asked...For basics I like Carter's. Play wear, Old Navy and Gap. Formal evenings out, I have a onesie with a tuxedo printed on it. I try to buy only organic cotton.
M & D: Not to get too personal, but the ladies are dying to know...boxers or briefs?
S: (grins) Well give the women what they want. Actually, I do onesies.
M & D: Sam, thanks for taking the time out of your busy day to speak with us! Look forward to checking in with you again as the month's progress.
S: My pleasure. Now, off to another photo shoot with the mom!
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
For those of you that didn't know, Sam got a new ride. His old ride, though still utilitarian is not quite the convertible that his weekend wheels are. His new 2008 model BOB Ironman jogger is rockin' three wheel suspension over 8 inch rims. The luxuriously appointed cabin seats one comfortably(along with a few stuffed passengers), is 100% nylon upholstered and is powered by a V6 Daddy engine. It goes from zero to 6 minute miles in less time than it takes for Sam to shout a goo-goo at the girl rolling by in the McClaren.
Sunday, April 6, 2008
**hold up glass to toast** "To next year in Boulder!" (o.k. or Amish country)
Thursday, April 3, 2008
And yet, it ceased being a good idea to stay behind and forego the Ya-Ya Sisterhood Weekend at around...say, 7:45 p.m. on Day 1 when I had just returned from a run....well, less of a 'run', per se, and more of a sweaty meandering around Abacoa...and was faced with the very dismal prospect of frozen meat raviolis for dinner. Not that the only reason to follow my wife and son on the YYSW is to be fed. I am quiet capable of feeding myself. But as Elise will attest, I lose the motivation to eat and now, seemingly, sleep (yes, it is 11:48 p.m.) without them, though I plan to knock out 13 before the sun rises. (But I don't need to write about lack of sleep. Elise and I aren't unique in this respect, and acknowledge that, if anything, we have been luckier than most. I've tried to go to bed, but it seems I am in need of my evening wind-down ritual as much as Sam. And it doesn't usually include a screening of 'Fantastic Four 2: Rise of the Silver Surfer' on pay-per-view.)
I am writing this to attest that the notion of a hall-pass is a lot better on paper than in reality. In reality, it sucks.
For a dedicated runner with Boston marathon-qualifying time aspirations, the thought of having a few days to get in some long runs without feeling as though I am missing anything at home had some initial allure. That allure is gone. I cannot say that running is not important. Running is vital. It is fundamental and philosophical, and there would be no human race without running (how would we have chased down the mastodons for survival? Could you say the same about NASCAR? The NFL? Cup stacking or spelling bees?...though if Sil is a good speller, then I will treat it as though he is curing world hunger with each correct homonym). Is it guilt-free Friday yet? My admission? Sometimes, I imagine that I am a mustang, galloping through wild grasses while I run. Elise knows this about me. I don't have feet. I have hooves. But with all that being said, there is simply no point to running when there is no one to run to, no one waiting for you at the end. Without it, there's just the end. Which, now, isn't good enough for me.
Perhaps the concept of hall-pass holds no appeal because, in essence, I had a hall-pass for ten years and all I wanted to do was trade it in. I didn't know what to do with it. I was a lousy bachelor. I didn't get married to hang out at sports bars by myself, eating crappy chicken wings and watching college basketball on obnoxiously-large plasma TVs. I got married so I could hang out at sports bars, eating crappy chicken wings and watching college basketball on obnoxiously-large plasma TVs with Elise.
I will never have a hall-pass as it evinces a get-out-of-jail-free card. When Elise told me that Sam got his wings on the plane, it made me sad because I missed it. It wasn't his first word or his first step or learning to ride a bike, but for some reason it seemed to me as important a milestone as tracking moving objects or lifting his head. I don't need for them to go away to appreciate that time spent with them is precious and fleeting, but when they are gone I realize viscerally that the things that I think are important to me aren't as important as I think they are when I don't have them here to share them with. I hope Elise and Sam have a wonderful time in Annapolis, but I can't wait for them to come home.