Every year at this time, it is a tradition to re-post this. 50% nostalgic tradition. 50% lazy tradition. But a tradition nonetheless. Hope you enjoy it! xo
I’ve never hidden the fact that I love the autumn and every corny thing associated with it: Football (not the least bit corny), Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade (cool with many corny parts), fall foliage.
So in the past, I’ve written about going through infertility later in life (“The Autumn of My Fertility”) and spooky infertility stories for Halloween.
I can’t see what could possibly be left to write about that’s autumn-related except, of course the obvious: Charlie Brown. Continue reading
Infertility: When a roll in the hay becomes a hayride. I hope you’re not nearly as sick of my autumn analogies yet as I am. But I can’t seem to stop myself. I’ll admit I get carried away for some reason at this time of year. I get sucked into every delicious piece of snacky crap on the shelf just because it´s added “pumpkin spice” or “spooky” to its normal name. When most people are overcome by addiction, they see red. I see orange. I’m hoping I’ll be able to squelch my latest urge: To trick-or-treat this year dressed as Dorothy. Nobody wants to see a woman my age in gingham unless she’s swinging her partner round and round in a barn. Speaking of hay… and infertility… Continue reading
Corn mazes: They’re one of my favorite parts of Fall. Even though most of them feel a tad gyppy rip-offish and my husband Lloyd and I are notoriously horrible at them. It’s our annual tradition. The sweet smell of corn. The sweet sound of wives yelling at the back of their husbands’ heads: “Will you wave the damn flag already and get us out of here?!” Every year we go to the same corn maze. It’s carved out the same way. We get lost in all the same places. Last year, there had been a lot of storms. The maze was so depleted, I was towering over the stalks. And as you can imagine, at 5’2 1/4″, I don’t get that many towering opportunities. Regardless, it still took us a good hour and a half to navigate our way out. Sure, we could see the exit clearly. We just couldn’t figure out how to get there without intervention- divine or otherwise… Hm… Sounds familiar… Continue reading
When we first started taking the kids for haircuts, it was a harrowing experience. We specifically picked a salon that had videos for them to watch and fun chairs like horseys and police cars for them to sit in during the deed. We traveled miles over mountains and prairies to get to this salon that catered to little kids. And the way it turned out, at least one of those kids owes me some gas money. Continue reading
First day of school: It’s so hard for any kid. Monday morning was a very hard morning for all of us… The only thing I don’t get– Yes, it was the first day of school, but not for my kids. Their school started a month ago. Continue reading
Labor Day is almost upon us again in the US. Okay, so I’m not saying I’m paranoid, but while I was going through infertility and treatments, I always took “Labor” Day as a personal affront to me and my kind. Just another conspiracy to screw with those trying to conceive I think. I mean it’s great everyone gets a long weekend off…
I know. To all of those who live somewhere where there is a Labor Day, only those trying to conceive could be offended. Most holidays offend us, or at least hurt our feelings. So why should Labor Day be any different? It’s just the beginning: Continue reading
If you read part 1, you know that school started for my kids three weeks ago and that thus far their “regular”school bus driver was present and accounted for precisely five of those fifteen school days, having taken a smattering of days off, culminating in a full blown week-long scheduled vacation. This leaves me wondering whether announcing that she was our “regular” school bus driver wasn’t referring to her bowel habits and not her work habits.
So today she was back from her vacation. Well, maybe she was. She didn’t come back to work though. Is she coming back or isn’t she? Did she flee to destinations unknown? I have no idea if school bus drivers have many advancement opportunities but I didn’t think they had any embezzlement opportunities.
Meanwhile in her absence, my kids’ bus route has had various revolving school bus drivers.
In my newest little eBook, I have a chapter called:
“The School Bus Situation: Because every year there is indeed ‘a school bus situation’.” This is no exaggeration. My triplets are just starting sixth grade. The first week of school is always that adjustment period. Teachers are getting to know the kids. Kids are getting to know the teachers. Where do we sit? What time is lunch? Now that they’re in middle school there’s even more to get used to: Where’s my locker? How do I get to my next class? What time does the bell ring? And this period of adjustment extends to the bus drivers. Where’s the stop? Who’s at the bus stop? What’s the bus route? The only difference is: By the end of the first two weeks, teachers and kids have pretty much settled in… and “the school bus situation” is just getting revved up.
The first day of middle school, the triplets were asked to stand up and tell a little about themselves. My daughter got up there: “My name is Carly Fox. I’m a triplet. I hate being a triplet.” She was heading back to her seat when she turned around. “Oh, and I also hate my last name.”
Way to go on the positive self-talk, Carly. I looked up the number for the school psychologist and added it to my phone contacts so I’d know it when it came up.
Messy kids. I have three of them and I might know why. I’ll be the first to tell you that I’m not a tidy person. I don’t like to look around and see things in disarray. I don’t like an unmade bed or dirt, filth, or grime, but I’m naturally a messy person. People who are messy like to say: “I’m messy, but not dirty. There’s a difference.” I agree. There is a difference, and I’m both.
I’ve been married to my husband for 13 1/2 years and I have no idea if he’s messy or not. It’s because no matter how messy he might be, I’ll always out-mess him. He always cracks before I do. If there are dishes in the sink or a pile of newspapers on the counter, he can’t take it before I can’t take it. My “can’t take it anymore” threshold is disturbingly high for mess. So this is the example I’m setting for my triplets.
I’ve been observing them for eleven years now. What I’ve witnessed is perfectly natural. I just haven’t decided whether they’re naturally messy kids or naturally lazy kids.