HAPPY DANCE HAPPY DANCE

Mr. Sam is now officially done with diapers!!

Shimmy shimmy, Shakin' the ta-ta's, Wigglin' the junk in my trunk, Shakey shakey dance dance

Here is how it went down:

After Grace's DI tournament (which her team took 1st place! Woot Woot!) I was exhausted. I got home and I told Sam:

Mama: I am done changing your diapers.

Sam: Okay.

What?

That is it?

That is all it took???

Yup!

Been peein' and poopin' on the potty ever since.

Doin' the funky mama dancey dance,

Gabbi

Camp

I am back from vacation and it took a few days to process it all. I have decided to take the good, and leave the rest behind.

So, here is the good, and there is a lot of good:

I learned to play cribbage

I learned to play telephone pictionary

I tried goat cheese, and loved it

I tried Indian food, and I didn't LOVE it, but I DID like it

I got some good recipes to try

I made a few new friends

I had LOTS of good conversation

I made a fairy garden

I read a whole book

I thoroughly enjoyed my Snuggie and the free book light!

I am glad to be home,

Gabbi

Vacation, here I come!

Tomorrow morning I leave for Duluth.

4 days kid-free

4 days with only 1 meal to make

4 days of games

4 days of laziness

4 days of exploring

4 days of doing whatever I fancy

4 days of art

4 days of good conversation

OMG I cannot believe it is finally here,

Gabbi

My weekend

My weekend involved:

1 son who fed cheetos to the dog who will eat anything

1 dog (who shouldn't eat just anything) vomiting cheetos

1 son who ate over a dozen chocolate chip cookies while the rest of the house was sleeping

1 son with a bad belly ache (duh)

1 kitchen sink that refused to drain

1 brave man who unclogged that drain (eww)

Thankful the dog was the only one who puked,

Gabbi

I am so boring right now

I am so boring I am craving meatloaf for dinner.

I wish I were craving something with Pancetta. And pasta with olive oil. Something with zest in it.

But no, boring old meatloaf, for my boring old mood.

I have been looking into camps for Grace to go to this summer, and I have discovered one thing:

I SHOULD BE THE ONE GOING TO CAMP.

Canoeing, arts and crafts, camp fires, cabins, SMORES!

I want to go. I never got to have the whole camp experience when I was younger. But I will be sure Grace gets it.

What an awesome time to be away from your parents, with a whole new group of people, you can be whatever you want. I joke about how I love to go to places where no one knows me so I can lie about who I am.

Hi, my name is Gabbi and I am a Doctor.

Hi, my name is Gabbi and I am a helicopter pilot.

Hi, my name is Gabbi and I am a phone sex operator.

Can you imagine the reaction you would get to that??? That would be fun.

To bad I am always suffering from allergies...stuffy nose, not so sexy. Although, there could be a fetish for that.

Mental Picture: Me, on my couch, wearing my soon-to-be-gotten zebra print snuggie, flippng channels with the TV on mute, dogs on the floor, kleenex everywhere, eating ice cream, phone to my ear, and me saying:

"You wanna WHAT??? GRODY!"

Yep, that would be the end of Phone Sex Operator career. Pretty sure "Grody" would not be a welcome word.

Anyways, Grace will have an opportunity to reinvent herself and have a great time and try new things. Dang, I am so jealous.

Although, I will be having a camp-esque experience in about 8 days. It is the Duluthson trip. Coming up so fast I cannot believe it!

Duluthson will include, art, games, outdoor time, and new people. Since some people already know me, my doctor/helicopter pilot/phone sex operator personas will be left at home. It'll be just me. Having a new camper experience.

Anyone have a sleeping bag,

Gabbi

Open Mic Night Story

FASHION FORWARD

For the last three days I have been obsessively trolling Ebay, Craigslist, Shoebuy.com and countless other websites looking for…

A pair of DANSKO Patent leather clogs. Clogs.

I am consumed with desire and am inherently cheap.

The words ON SALE, are like a song sang directly to my heart.

I cannot decide on Black Patent leather or leopard print. Oh I said it, LEOPARD print.

I NEED these clogs. I am currently using The Secret to manifest clogs in my life.

I am COVETING. Breaking one of the 10 Commandments…for Swiss Miss Girl CLOGS.

Or, as others have been known to call them; Troll Shoes. What-EV!

Talking with a family friend, yea, cuz I am talking to everyone about my current infatuation / unhealthy obsession with clogs, he says “You are just like your sister and them damn clogs.”

What?

Then I start to think, I love crocs, Randi loves Born clogs and is willing to pay top dollar for them (which is where we differ).

OMG! We are both clog obsessed. And it got me thinking, where could this possibly be coming from?

FLASH BACK:

Riding in the car, older sisters crying, me happily bouncing along. Dad taking us to the Pickin Parlor for our clog dancing lessons. Oh yea, clog dancing lessons.

My Dad was in a country western band that was pretty big on the nursing home circuit…don’t even get me started with the traumas that happened during those excursions….I will just say, me, small girl, old lady in a wheelchair with a naked baby doll that she was angrily spanking…yea, trauma.

I digress, so, dad would have these “Jam Sessions” at the Pickin’ Parlor and while he jammed, we would be forced to clog dance. Alright, I admit, I loved every minute of it.

When we would have company over, my dad would “make me” get my clogs and he would crank up Foggy Mountain Breakdown and I would clog my little heart out for anyone who would watch.

That was the best.

I am sure there are so many of my parents friends who will never know me as anything but the clogging girl. In their eyes, I am forever young.

Those are the happiest memories of my childhood, interminably long jam sessions at the Pickin Parlor, clogging and music always a part of our lives.

Clog Obsession Explained!

So, call me the Lil Dutch Girl, cuz I am going to indulge my obsession and buy me some damn clogs!

Happy Friday

I am a total procrastinator.

Tonight is Open Mic Night at my sister's awesome shop:

Earth Angels Coffee Shop
321 2nd Street
River Falls, WI

Yea, that is a hint you should go there.

Anyways, so it is open mic night and I want to read a story.

A story I have not written yet.

A story I plan on writing over my lunch break.

Procrastinator Extraordinaire!

Here is what I have so far for my story:

Clogs

Pickin' Parlor

Covet

10 commandments

Banjo's

The Secret

Fashion Forward

Foggy Mountain Breakdown

Yep, that's it.

Good luck to me,

Gabbi

Kind of cruel...maybe

This morning I had an email for 1/2 price tickets to see MacBeth at the Guthrie.

I have never seen a Shakespeare play.

I have never been to the Guthrie.

There is a sale.

Half price.

On a Friday night.

I am so there.

Ted is begrudingly so there.

Could it be cruel? Quite possibly for both of us.

Is it an adventure? Hell yes!

Adventur-atizing (yep, I made that up),

Gabbi

Challenge!

Let's all stop for just a moment AND:

Pretend we are normal

What would normal look like?

Smell like?

Talk like?

Act Like?

For me, normal is:

Normal is on time

Normal knows what the F*** is going on

Normal has Clean sinks

Normal is no undies on the bathroom floor

Normal is children who do not scream as if they are being tortured while you put a shirt on them

Normal is children who do not look you square in the face and say "Well, I don't WANT to go pee on the potty. That's that." (Seriously, if you can argue with me about going on the potty, in. full. sentences. you NEED to be peeing on the potty, jerk.)

Normal is no mystery meals....in the backseat

Normal has dogs who do not howl all night for no good reason

Normal is no poop mounds in the backyard

Normal means the halloween decorations are put away and not still in the yard, 8 feet from the Scarecrow I put out at Thanksgiving and 4 feet from the Christmas wreath still hanging on my door

Normal does not have a weight lifting set in the middle of your 3 year old son's bedroom

Normal does not find sippy cups with God knows what in them under the couch

Normal smells like cinnamon and chocolate chip cookies and bread

Striving to be Normal-ish,

Gabbi

Forgiveness

Forgive; a verb

1.
to grant pardon for or remission of (an offense, debt, etc.); absolve.
2.
to give up all claim on account of; remit (a debt, obligation, etc.).
3.
to grant pardon to (a person).
4.
to cease to feel resentment against: to forgive one's enemies.
5.
to cancel an indebtedness or liability of: to forgive the interest owed on a loan.

I am struggling with forgiveness. Well, more the "ceasing to feel resentment" part of forgiveness.

This weekend I found myself wanting to be hurtful, not overtly, more in a passive-aggressive little jab kind of way. Made me feel shitty about myself.

I want to forgive. Forgiveness is more of a blessing to the person granting forgiveness than the person receiving. I want to heal. I want my family to heal. I want Ted to heal.

The disease of alcoholism has wreaked havoc on our family. Ted and I are doing our best to put things back together, be better parents, and co-habitat. Tall order.

The first step is being able to forgive. Truly forgive, not just say I forgive you and then remind you of all the crappy things that have happened and every hurt (real or imagined) you have inflicted.

I found myself, at times, wanting to be rude and snotty. I had to step back and ask myself "what am I really feeling?" Mostly, it was insecurity, self-doubt and feelings of inadequacy. Hmmm, all of those feelings are directly related to me. No one else can control those feelings but me.

When Ted talks about the housework he is doing, I feel defensive. Why? Because I feel I am not pulling my own weight. I feel guilty for that. Whose issue is that? Mine.

When I feel inadequate, again, it is me feeling guilt and not taking ownership in the choices I have made. Whose issue is that? Mine.

These are all things I have struggled with for a long time. Currently, I feel good about being able to step back and see my feelings for what they are.

A work in progress,

Gabbi

Can I really blog from my phone?