I'm feeling very virtuous, having survived one whole day of one of my "intentions" for the New Year. The plan is to limit alcohol and desserts to the weekends. Considering the fact that my father-in-law is the best baker I know and has a tendency to always have a home-made pie lurking on a counter may make this more challenging than I need it to be, but we'll see what happens.
My e-mail has been inundated with screaming ads from various sites trying to sell me what I didn't buy at Christmas. We are in our "purge mode" over here, though. Himself and I went through the first of about forty boxes of old photographs and discarded a stack which stood six inches high of blurry shots of various events. Seeing the boys so small, and remembering each occasion as though it were yesterday, is a strange sensation. I start getting all warm and fuzzy and maternal, lost in that world, when in comes a tall stranger with a booming voice, asking "What time is dinner, Mom?" and it's a bit like getting hit in the face with a cold, wet flounder.
Four boxes of VHS tapes are sitting in the garage, waiting for trash day. I was amazed at how easily the boys let go of what I thought were childhood treasures. It turns out that the memories are the treasures, and they take up no space at all. I'm hoping this revelation sustains me through the Herculean task of reclaiming my bedroom for humans. Considering this is only Day Two of the year, I am silly enough to remain optimistic!
My e-mail has been inundated with screaming ads from various sites trying to sell me what I didn't buy at Christmas. We are in our "purge mode" over here, though. Himself and I went through the first of about forty boxes of old photographs and discarded a stack which stood six inches high of blurry shots of various events. Seeing the boys so small, and remembering each occasion as though it were yesterday, is a strange sensation. I start getting all warm and fuzzy and maternal, lost in that world, when in comes a tall stranger with a booming voice, asking "What time is dinner, Mom?" and it's a bit like getting hit in the face with a cold, wet flounder.
Four boxes of VHS tapes are sitting in the garage, waiting for trash day. I was amazed at how easily the boys let go of what I thought were childhood treasures. It turns out that the memories are the treasures, and they take up no space at all. I'm hoping this revelation sustains me through the Herculean task of reclaiming my bedroom for humans. Considering this is only Day Two of the year, I am silly enough to remain optimistic!
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