…when you come downstairs in the morning, you don’t know what you’ll find.
Maybe it’s kids quietly playing games in the basement.
Maybe it’s kids eating breakfast at the kitchen table.
Or maybe, just maybe…
It’s a StormTrooper, in a way too small outfit, and Superman, in a similarly way too small outfit, covered by a Fireman jacket, shooting hoops on the deck.
…and that’s just fine.
Archie Comics.
There.
I said it.
I love Archie Comics.
I will buy every Archie comic they have at every single checkout stand I go through.
I used to have a subscription to Archie comics before I was married.
I would practically assault the mailman on the days the Archie comic was to arrive.
I love them.
I’ve been reading them since I was a kid, and I feel like Archie and the gang are my friends.
Archie, Jughead, Betty, Veronica, Reggie.
I love when they sneak in a Josie and the Pussycats comic in the middle.
I bought the newest one while checking out at the Acme today and couldn’t wait for Tiny Monkey to take a nap so I could read it.
Those crazy kids.
I love them.
All.
So much.
Say what you will, but there you have it.
I’ve been doing a lot of internet reading, lately, in the moments when the big monkeys are otherwise occupied, Tiny Monkey is napping, and I don’t feel like I can unpack one more blessed box.
Yesterday’s article was one of the ones that caught my fancy, but this one did, too.
I found it particularly relevant after the monkeys and I were just discussing the whole 4 channel, no remote, rabbit ears type of television that I grew up with.
So, enjoy this list of things your kids may never know about.
Wonder what THEIR kids will never know about!
I’ve always been a huge proponent of, what I call, “Acceptable Risk” with my kids.
I’ve always encouraged them to climb to the top of the highest tree and then figure out how to get down.
To climb to the top of the nearest monkey bars and work their way back.
To slide down the fireman’s pole, to jump into the deep end, to explore, to do what other, more cautious moms might hold their kids back from.
Not because I want them to get hurt, but because I know it’s important to learn how to fall, to figure out the minimally dangerous stuff on their own, so that when the big bad comes around, they have the self-confidence to face it and to make wise decisions.
Doesn’t mean they always take the challenge, but they know that Mommy encourages them to try.
So, I gave a big “Hurrah!” and clapped my hands when I came across this article, yesterday. Seems like I’m not the only one recognizing that we’ve made things so safe for our kids, they aren’t learning how to take the risks or how to recover from the fall.
I particularly liked the second to last paragraph, but overall, great article.
Enjoy.
Every other week.
…automatically think Biblical omen when a 2.5 inch bug slams into the side of your house and then falls to the deck, deader than a doornail?
Methinks I’ve been watching too many supernatural horror movies lately.
You know that eTrade baby?
Well…
I think…
Our little cutie could give just as good stock advice!
My apologies for slacking in the blogging department.
I’ve been spending my days like this:
Tiny Monkey wakes me up to eat, and I feed him in our bed and we both drift back to sleep.
Monkey in the Middle comes in and wakes everyone up.
We head downstairs and Tiny Monkey hangs in the exersaucer or the Bumbo or lays on the playmat while I get breakfast for the big kids and start unpacking more boxes.
After breakfast, the big kids go outside to play and I unpack until Tiny Monkey starts yelling “Hey, lady! Enough! Pick me up!”
So, then I carry around Tiny Monkey and try to unpack with one arm until I realize the futility of that, and remember that it’s much more fun to blow raspberries on a baby tummy than unpacking anyway, and so I scrap the unpacking for awhile.
When Tiny Monkey finally goes down for a nap, I race around the house doing as much unpacking as I can, and even though I feel like I’m unpacking a thousand things, when I look around, I’m not sure I’ve made any progress.
I head outside or to the basement and unpack while playing and interacting with the big 3, and then when Tiny wakes up, I feed him and the process starts all over again.
So, there isn’t much time in there for blogging, and even if there was, there really isn’t much happening to blog about, unless you want to read about how many boxes we have stacked in the garage to be recycled or how many boxes are yet to be unpacked or how many times Baby Monkey has asked me “Where exactly is that bathroom down here?”
So, I promise to try to be more creative as I continue to “move in” and the process won’t last forever, and hopefully, before the summer ends and I head back to work, I’ll find some free time to write!
I used to love my Saturday morning cartoons.
My kids don’t really understand the whole “Saturday morning” part.
“Why could you only watch them on Saturday mornings?”
Which, of course, leads to the whole “only 5 channels” discussion and that blows their mind.
Now, don’t get me wrong…I think there are a lot of great cartoons out there, but because there are so many channels dedicated to cartoons, there is also a lot of crap.
But then, who determines it is crap?
Because, one of my favorite cartoons was “The New Schmoo.”
In fact, I call Tiny Monkey “Schmoo” all the time.
Why?
Beats me.
Not familiar with “The New Schmoo?”
Here are the opening credits.
What were some of your favorite cartoons as a kid?
I’d love this to be an interactive post…always interested in what others enjoy!
There’s a certain feeling you get when you know you are home.
It’s hard to put into words, but it is a feeling that doesn’t come at any other time.
It just feels right.
We’ve lived in four houses.
The first one was the first one and we knew it wouldn’t be the last.
So, somehow, subconsciouly, we never really settled in, although we lived there for three years.
Our second house was great, and we did feel home, but we filled it up and thought we might need more space.
In our third home…we just didn’t fit.
I don’t mean spacially.
I mean…it just wasn’t right for us.
We never truly felt at home there.
And then, yesterday, we moved into our fourth (and last, if we can help it) house.
And…
…we’re home.
And…
…we’re happy.
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