24 January 2011

You're killing your father, Larry.

Except my child is not named Larry and I am not Larry's, er, well, Zachary's, father.

I could also title this, "Damnit, child, for the love of all things holy, please, just take a nap!"

I have never known a child more fickle when it comes to napping (and eating and playing and enjoying the company of others besides that of his momma, but for the purpose of this post, we're only going to be discussing napping) than my Baby Z. He has days where he naps like a champ. Clockwork - you could nearly set a watch by it. But those days are few and very, very far between. Because Baby Z., for all intents and purposes, is a catnapper. I don't know where he picked up this trait; I don't know if it's a genetic thing (and if it is, I am tracking down the developer of this particular gene and we are going to have words) or if it's a learned thing, but I can tell you it's a super freaking annoying thing.

Baby Z's catnaps last about 14 minutes. And it just so happens that 14 minutes is how long it takes to shower but not dry off, prepare a lunch but not eat it, complete the warm-up portion of a workout but not the workout itself. Do you see where I'm going with this? I get nothing done.

Nothing. Zero. Zilch. Nada. From start to end, my day is a laundry list of unfinished tasks, showers, lunches, workouts, blog posts and chores. However, I do get a lot of Baby Z time.

(I'd tell you more about it but I'm on minute 12 right now and he's starting to stir. Not even kidding. I knew I should have eaten while I had the chance.)

01 January 2011

The obligatory resolutions post

I've spent all day thinking about resolutions and what I'm going to write here. It began as a short list, manageable, both in writing and in life, and then like most things, I started to overthink it. It began to grow and soon I was giving it categories and planning a multi-day post about how this year was going to be my year. It dawned on me that I'd probably spend the entire month of January writing about how I was going to change my life and I wouldn't actually be starting until February.

Oh dear.

I want the same things most people want: I want to be a better mom, wife, daughter, friend, person. I want to cook more and eat in restaurants less. I want to put my new stand-up mixer to good use. I want to be more patient, more organized, less forgetful, less stressed. I want to spend less, save more, and still have the things we need on a daily basis. I want to lose weight. I'd like to read more, watch better movies (but still watch Twilight two or three times a week for my Robert Pattinson fix), hear new music, hear live music, get out of the house regularly, grow out my hair (or maybe cut it even shorter, I'm undecided on this one), take more (and better) pictures, clip my toenails more often, clip my boys' toenails more often, clean more but have to do it less often, win the lottery...

Wait, this is resolutions not wishes. Sorry.

But you can see where I'm going with this. So this year, I resolve to make no official resolutions. I'm just going to be me, only better.

As if that's even possible. (Heheheh...)