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Keepin’ Up – Mother’s Lament

18 Feb


Seriously guys, how cute are my kids? Right? I know. I made them, so…

Wait, that’s not what this post is about. This train of thought began when I was like “Oh I should share the Valentine’s Day photo on my blog” but then realized 4 days ago was more like 4 weeks ago (in interweb years we had already moved on to St Patricks Day themed photograms.)

So I’m late. Like, for everything as usual since the kids graced me with their photogenic little beings.

And as I type this I watch the DVR’d Grammys, dancing along with the audience as Rhianna and Ziggy Marley and Sting and Bruno Mars take the stage. I witness something so magical and moving…that the rest of the world experienced over a week ago. I can’t even real-time tweet #Grammys because the Twitosphere has evidently moved on to #AlecBaldwin. Fair enough.

Yet the stirring Grammy performance has me tuning into my iTunes account, feverishly downloading last year’s music (which I never heard since the Amy Winehouse Pandora station I listen to doesn’t play much of The Lumineers.) I stumble upon a song called “Bird’s Lament” that my husband has referenced and I think – HOLY F-ING HECK this song IS SO AU COURANT and also awesome.

After a bit of research we realize it was written in 2004 by a guy named Moondog who was born in 1916 (and chose to live as a homeless Jazz musician on the streets of NYC). 2004 = BK (before kids) so I give up on staying current or using my kids as my excuse why I am not, sip my Shasta, and publish my belated post. #moondog #motherslament #aretweepsstillhashtaggingyall

Leaving Town, Going Home

22 Apr

I have this thing where no matter what the situation or conversation is, my mental playlists cues a related song & oft changes lyrics to better suit my circumstances. So when I got the news we were moving back to NYC from ATL (woot woot!) these songs played on permarepeat in my head:

Going Home by Diddy

Leaving Las Vegas Atlanta by Sheryl Crow

Going Back to Cali New York by Tone Loc

NY State of Mind by Billy Joel

…and the list goes on. And speaking of lists, one of the multitude of to-dos I had on my own list was listing my house. It wasn’t until the realtor was here taking pics that I realized I am going to say goodbye to this beautiful place in search of something else. Another way of life. A husband who works long hours. Kids who will need me more than ever. And it’s not an easy thing to take on right now but I know NYC is where hub’s heart is, where his jobs will be, and let’s face it –>; Atlanta was never “home” no matter how hard I tried. Our home was home, though, and it’s hard to say goodbye to it. *insert pouty sad face here*

I went through the house primping and fluffing to get it picture-perfect for these HDR shots my realtor took in wide angle. Check it, yo:

Front of Craftsman Bungalow

Side View of Our House

Front Patio

Main Living Area

Dining Room


Master Bedroom

Master Bathroom

Kids’ Bedroom

Guest Bathroom


Spiral Stairs



Back of House

Train Caboose Guest House

Train Caboose Guest House

I wish there were more photos of it. The whole listing is here. I followed our agent with my iPhone in hand, obsessively taking low quality shots of every detail like some deranged museum curator who needs record of the way things were. (Cue: The Way We Were by Barbra Streisand.) I’m like a hoarder of digital pictures. Which is weird because I am absolutely a purger of physical things. I feel the need to document everything these days so I can try to remember it all. Momnesia has gotten the best of me & I don’t remember many details without the aid of photographic evidence. Don’t tell the kids that, though. They still think I see and know all.

I hope someone buys it who loves it as much as we did and who finds the value in such a special neighborhood. I was the neighborhood bloggesse and I’ve relinquished that to a sweet friend here in the hood (whom I will also miss. Waaaah!) I am slowly checking things off our to do list and it feels good but it also means we are one step closer to completely changing our lives. Thrilling and anxiety-inducing.

I’m off to reluctantly pack. Or eat chocolate cake in denial. The latter…definitely the latter.

Easter Tradition – Getting a Tattoo

7 Apr

Okay I confess…that’s not an Easter tradition and this will likely be the only year I get “Easter ink” done.

Talking through it - distraction technique

But since you’re here and you’re reading, look what I did!

Double checking placement pre-ink

I can not have any more children because there are no wrists left to commemorate them on. I’m okay with that. I’m more than okay with that.

Being told what to do if I need to pass out

As it turns out, I have met my threshold of carving-designs-into-my-skin-for-self-expression pain.

Pretending to be really tough

Not as tough as I picture myself to be.

Bracing myself - it's ouchy

Now I have a tattoo on each wrist.

Left wrist - Hunter

As I like to say, the placement is symbolic of the shackles of motherhood imprisonment.

Right wrist - Kingston

But in a good way.

another day, another blogger

4 Oct

i did the math. it’s been 11 years since i published my first blog.

it was a simple blog and its content rivaled that of a locker room “spill it” sesh between deviously naive preteens.

from there i went on to begin new blogs with each short-lived relationship – and there were many.

then a blog when my niece was born.

then a blog i met my husband and we moved to ny.

and yet another when i started a mommy group in wny, here. it’s still up – but no longer “running” in the sense that it’s been long since forgotten by the surrogate bloggesse who adopted it.

and while thinking of, remembering, rereading these old blogs makes me cringe at the design and the content and the photos and and and…they did pave the way for this blog. the blog that i now consider a true attempt at a weblog that is not just for personal consumption. this is no longer a personal journal to share amongst family and friends. this is a blog for the interwebs. a blog for the people. by the person. and that person is me.

oh it’s late. i’m getting wacky. but you’ll find you probably like me better, with all of my quirks showing.

g’night, y’all!

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