comfort and joy

The great bloggy giveaway has got me thinking…(check out the previous post if you don’t know what I’m talking about). Let me just start by saying I know I’m a little bit of a loser. But I derive an arguably unhealthy amount of comfort and joy from certain TV shows. There. I said it.

It started with The Brady Bunch and continued with Survivor. (I know I’ve talked about this here before.) But tonight is big because it marks the end of an eight month long TV induced depression… when LOST aired its season finale. More importantly, though, its been eight months of living life here without my sister living 5 minutes away. But also, eight months of wondering how they get off the island and why they would want to go back. Seriously, though, its been eight months since John and I left our old church and started over at a new one. What?

And thus continues this strange journey I’ve been on of realizing how closely I associate certain TV shows with stages of my life.

I don’t watch THAT much TV, I’m just fiercely loyal to those shows I do watch, largely because of the sentiment I attach to them. It’s not even that I so like LOST, for example. I mean, I watch it…yeah. And I look somewhat forward to watching it. But more than that, I look forward to looking forward to watching it with PEOPLE. See…its the anticipation and the company. I’m making dinner tonight for the season premiere. We’re having some of our favorite people over…because LOST is dinner and Breyers ice cream and favorite people. Same as Survivor will always be good food at my sisters’ when her boys still used sippy cups and their house was only minutes away.

And then there’s Friends. I didn’t watch it regularly when it was actually on the air, but I borrowed Season 1 from a friend when my girls were small and I was nursing (this seems to be a pattern for me) and I found such joy, such sweet company. So I shamelessly asked for the entire series for Christmas last year and thanks to John and Costco, look what I got.
That’s 10 seasons, people. So its now what I watch when John is out of town or I feel anxious at night and just need a laugh or a…friend (I now officially hate myself). So while I’m down here (you know, in the place where NBC executives most want me to be: addicted, needy, wrapped up, tricked), let me go ahead and show you these.

Look, it’s 1994 Joey..
And 2004 Joey.
Yeah…still hating myself. Seriously, though, doesn’t everyone do this? Maybe they don’t, which is what I’m starting to realize. Because to me, The Wonder Years is a cold, cozy, rainy school night in Iowa, The Smurfs is a long john donut on a Saturday morning, and The Brady Bunch is afternoon sunshine and an after school snack. Right? RIGHT?! I’m starting to hyperventilate. Maybe 1994 Rachel will make me feel better.
Oh, and by the way, a long john donut is what my sister and I called chocolate eclairs because what kid knows the word ‘eclair’?

show me that smile again…

Anyone feel like a carnival? Rocks in My Dryer is hosting one and I wanted to play. So welcome! Click on the little logo to see the master list of giveaway goodies. But once you see what I have, you will look no further. I know you want it. I also know you wish you didn’t. But you do.
I bought this the summer after the baby was born mainly because I spent a lot of time nursing and in the middle of the night, reading requires too much light (not to mention thinking) and we didn’t have cable. Besides, who doesn’t want to revert back to 1985 in the middle of the night while nursing a newborn…?

I expected it to be somewhat entertaining. After all, Kirk Cameron was quite the heart-throb, was he not? What I didn’t expect, however, was that everything would be so…familiar: the greenhouse back porch, Mike’s leather jacket, Carol’s big red glasses, the wooden truck on the shelf in the kitchen. I even found myself thinking the lines in my head before the characters said them. What? Where in my brain is there room to store the 20 year old script to Growing Pains? I was equal parts pleased and embarrassed by this ability of mine.

But I am no longer nursing and I have it memorized anyway. So now its your turn! As long as you live in the US, you are eligible! Aren’t you lucky? The winner will be randomly picked and posted on Saturday. Just leave a comment (with an email if you don’t have a blog link) to be entered to win your very own used-but-still-good copy of season one of Growing Pains.

Mike Seaver is waiting.

or her, either

So I just posted about one twin…and now I’m feeling guilty for not posting about the other. See how that works? And I wonder why I can never give them one-on-one attention. Because it isn’t FAIR! (A word I have come to hate, by the way. How did they learn that word, anyway? Certainly not from me). But in this case, it just doesn’t seem right to talk of one and not the other. So if you stop reading now because you’re having my-kids-overload, I’ll understand.

Still here? Then let me introduce you to twin B:
When we found out I was pregnant, it was a great day as we had been trying for over 6 months and then, there it was. Two lines. (Actually, 6 lines…I took 3 tests just to be sure.) Then I started getting really, grossly sick. Then I found out there were 2 kids growing in there. Then I had a nervous breakdown. Not really, but almost.

The doctors guessed our twins were identical from what they could tell in the ultrasounds (I’ll spare you the details about placentas). But when they were born, they were different from the start. We needed no DNA test to tell us the obvious: these girls were fraternal. And so it began.

While I always thought of her sister as an older woman in a baby’s body, this one was a genuine rosy-cheeked, bright-eyed ball of baby. She laughed hard, cried hard, slept hard and played hard. And she still does. It often seems as though the party doesn’t start until she arrives. She loves football almost as much as helping me cook. She idolizes her older boy cousins. She is responsible, sensitive, funny and a sucker for chocolate. She likes the fact that her name has 2 L’s. She is the spitting image of my mother-in-law.

As I think of her growing up into a young woman, I imagine she and I will get along well. Maybe that’s because I don’t see much of myself in her. She will be a compassionate, life-loving grown up. And though I’m not a fan of that I Love you Forever book (you know, the one where the grown man’s mom sneaks into his house at night to hold him like she did when he was a baby…creepy), I can kind of relate to the sentiment. She is the best snuggler in the house. I know I will miss that one day.

Blog Widget by LinkWithin