Things are moving far too quickly. Do you people realize that July is over??? Already I’m seeing “Back to School” sale signs and Halloween decorations. And yesterday morning, there was a suspicious nip in the air. I cannot believe summer is ending.

Here at home? Things are crazy. Kevin is running around like mad at work trying to clear his task list because he’s heading down to SD tomorrow for ComicCon with uncle Dan. I’m looking at a very long weekend alone with the girls and Leina’s birthday is stealthily sneaking up on me. Invitations are in the mail!

Of course, all this means that Hawaii is around the corner so I’m not suffering too much…. but really. This is all moving far too fast for my taste. Where are the dog days of summer when you need them?

The kid is going to wake in moments and I have not done one single thing on my list. Not even one.

I have not folded the laundry.

I have not paid the bills.

I have not cleaned the kitchen.

I have not baked the cookies for playgroup.

I have not even managed to surf all my favorite web site.

How is this possible? I have 1.5 hours each day to get my personal chores done while the littles sleep. And today? Today I have not done one bloody thing. I’m truely amazed at my ability to spend time. I swear it just falls through a hole in my pocket. (Sort of like Kevin and cash.)

So, I have 15 minutes before Leina emerges from her exile. What are the odds I can finish the laundry, kitchen and cooking? Yeah, that’s what I think. Guess I’ll just sit here and let these sands run through my fingers.

My, that feels good.

I think I may be going about this whole thing wrong but lately, I’ve been so put off by people. Over the last few days, it seems that everyone I meet is out to impress me. They talk about the square footage of their house, how much their new car cost, what type of granite they are putting in their kitchen, how much money their spouse makes, etc, etc, etc. I have to tell you, nothing turns me off faster than someone trying to impress.

Ok, I get it. You are fabulously rich and have a ginormous car and/or kitchen. But what on earth gave you the impression that I would want to know this all within the first 15 minutes of meeting me? Did you think I would like you for your things? For whatever reason, the people I’ve bumped into the last few days have gone on and on and on about their stuff and how much it cost without so much as pausing for breath. I doubt they even remember my name during the diatribe.

Now, please understand, I’m not complaining about mommy bragging. I totally understand waxing poetic about your kids and how cute/smart/sweet they are. This is every parent’s (and grandparent’s) god-given right. As a mom, I will ohhh and ahh for the required 20 minutes with the best of them before launching into my own song and dance regarding my kids. Totally acceptable.

But the stuff? It is a major turn off. It seems these people have confused the verb befriend with impress. If you want to befriend me, listen. Ask. Console. Comisserate. If you want to befriend me, do not launch into a rambling laundry list of all the expensive things you own or how large your house is. I beg of you, please do not begin gripping and complaining about your mother-in-law or siblings. It may sound shocking but I do not jump at the chance to be BFF’s with someone who only sees the glass half full. And, “hi, I’m _____ let me tell you about everything I suffer through” is not exactly the best ice breaker.

Ok, rant over. But the next stranger who decides to complain that their 3500 sq ft house is too small, I’m going to drop the pleasant act, turn heel and walk away. Befriend people! Not impress!

I am in so much trouble. I don’t think I will ever be able to go back to work during the summer again. I can’t imagine being locked indoors, chained to a desk when the sky is this blue. Right now, my life is an idyllic blur of iced coffees, sprinklers, and dinners on the deck. I’m thinking I’m going to have to check out a career as a teacher because I don’t want to give up my summers.

Our 4th of July consisted of a pyrotechnical display courtesy of Josh and neighbor Steve. Leina was a fireworks fiend and wanted bigger, louder and brighter. Baby was a bit more reserved and prefered the safety of dad’s lap. Both girls adored Kat’s house and Leina declared it “cool” after running in and out and in and out and in and out and in and out over and over again. (Kat & Josh, sorry about you air conditioning bill.) We topped off our adventure by heading out to see the Beaver’s ball game and once again, Leina was esctatic while Kulia, not so sure. We had Leina hollering “swing batter batter batter” and “go Beaves” with all her might. Of course, the three tons of cotton candy she injested may have had something to do with her hyper mood. I think her favorite part was the 7th inning streach. We are most definately going to catch another game soon.

So aside from lounging about outside in the shade sipping cold drinks, I’ve been, well, actually, that about sums up my life. Shade, cold drink, oh yes, and sprinklers.

Now, run off to your office building like good little worker bees. I’ve got a grande iced americano calling my name that I have to get to ASAP!

It was bound to happen. Only a matter of time really. Last week, Leina uttered the “f” word at someone and I have no one to blame but myself. I mean, honestly? I can hardly get through a sentence when babies are around with dropping an “f” bomb.

“Look at those fat cheeks!”
“I love all that baby fat!”
“Give me a big fat kiss!”

Fat, fat, fat, fat. It’s everywhere in my house. It’s a heavily used word that Leina never gave another thought to until last week. And then….

We were in the toy store and a grandma and grandson came in. “Look mom, it’s a grandma!” Leina exclamed as she walked by. “She’s fat.”

I practically died. Out loud, to her face no less. Now, grandma wasn’t svelte but she wasn’t ginormous either. I’d call her lightly padded. Of course she heard and of course I apologized but the damage was done. I whisked Leina outside and tried to explain to her the error of her way.

“Leina, honey, we don’t call people fat,” I began.

“Why not mommy?” she asked, all blue eyed innocence.

“Because it’s not a nice thing to say,” I replied.

“Why not?” Leina persisted.

“Well, honey, some people don’t like to be called fat,” and by now I’m getting a bit desperate.

“Why not?” Leina repeated, confused. “What’s wrong with being fat?”

And there it was. What is wrong with being fat? Up until now, fat was merely a descriptive term. Tall, short, thin, fat. Fat was used to describe cute baby cheeks or a large slice of cake. Up until now, there were no rules on using the word fat and I found myself conflicted. Do I teach my daughter that to be fat is bad? That thin is good? Do I teach her there is a right and a wrong as far as her body goes? Does the battle of, I hate my thighs and my butt is too big really start at age 3? Do I want her to judge someone based on size?

I’m afraid I ducked the issue and hustled her into the car. The next day, Kevin came back and reported she called another large person fat at the store so I know I need to have a talk with her but I just don’t know how. I don’t want to teach her that fat is bad but I don’t want her walking around unintentionally hurting people’s feelings. Because there isn’t anything more devastating than having a small child tell you you are fat. (I speak from personal experience here.) Because at age 3, kids call it like they see it. And there in lies the problem. Leina sees a tall person and says, “wow they are tall” and I smile. She sees someone who is fat and gets repremanded when she says, quite truthfully, “wow, that mommy is fat”. Why? Not because she’s being mean or untruthful but because we adults have decided to take something normal and make it abnormal. I mean all of us carry around some fat. We do our best to hide and god forbid anyone mention it but it’s there nonetheless.

I guess Leina will have to learn that’s it’s ok to point out the skinny mom but to hold her tongue when a fat one walks by. I guess I have to start introducing her to the wonderful world of body image. Is suppose I have to teach her that “fat” is a word she can’t use even if it’s true. Because in our society, there is something wrong with being fat. Just stand outside the dressing rooms during bathsuit season. It’s amazing how many times you’ll hear the “fat” word spat out of the mouths of very normal sized women. But I guess that’s just how the game is played and it’s time Leina learned the rules. Sigh.

Dear Tracy-

I know it’s been a long dry spell for blogging and for that I apologize. You see, we’ve had quite the month of June here in the McLaughlin house. First, Papa & Tutu came to visit, then Suzy and the boys, followed closely by our old friends Dave, Shanda and their sweet son Max. So you’ll have to forgive my lack of postings. I’ll admit that things have kind of slipped on the blog front. Sorry.

But, I’m back! For reals! No joke! But before I go any farther, I have a bone to pick with you missy. It has come to my attention that you and Liza snuck off and saw Ocean’s 13… without me! Um, hello? I enjoy a bit of Clooney too you know. If I hear that you have been breakfasting at Mother’s behind my back, then it’s war baby. However, I am prepared to overlook this one transgression Ms. Tracy. I am nothing if not gracious. (ha)

Well, you probably need to get back to work so I’ll close now. But check back soon, ok? I promise I’ll get back on the old blog horse this week. But remeber, I have contacts at Mother’s so don’t even think about it…..