Some of my FavOrIte Things...

Call it a wooby (heh, remember Mr. Mom?) a blankie, a binky, a woo-woo...whatever.  A kid's relationship with their blanket is a very special thing.  For me, it was a simple green blanket. (And everyone wonders where my obsession with the color came from...) My parents tell me that I would run the edges of it through my fingers overandover until I found "my suckin' spot". Then I would simultaneously suck my thumb, rub the spot on the blanket, and twirl my hair. (I have no idea how I did all three at the same time.)  The blanket still bears evidence of numerous repairs.

For my brother, it was a couple of things--a small blue elephant and a big bunny rabbit.  He wore that poor bunny rabbit out--to the point where the only thing he had left was a "cheek" of it that he would hold by his cheek when he sucked his fingers at night.

By the time sister came around, blankets and stuffed animals were no longer the wooby de rigueur...Fisher Price started making these mini-blankets with bunny heads on top.  I do believe these were the early versions of the "blankie bears" (as Boo calls them) that are so popular today-you know, the fleecy, satiny squares of fabric with some stuffed animal head in the middle? My sister loved hers...

Which brings me to my kids. They were gifted with a million blankets, blankie-bears, and stuffed animals, and it's been interesting to see what they gravitated towards.

For Boo, it's a green Winnie-the-Pooh blanket...it's really soft on one side, satin on the other, and it has the Classic Pooh embroidered on the bottom.  It was a random shower gift that I received, and while he does love some of the blankie-bears he has...he *still* returns to the blanket.

In Bay's case, she has blankie-bears that I got as presents, one that Boo picked out for her when I was pregnant with her, and a mini-blanket that I got as a gift that I thought for sure would be her "thing".  Nope.  Her blankies are the two, thick, satin-edged blankets that my mom and I picked up at Babies R Us a couple weeks before she was born...it was a total random buy.

We were in there getting a couple of things for Smidge's room (as we called her then) and we walked by the blankets.  I'd noticed them before, and loved how thick and soft they were, so my mom grabbed a burgundy one, and I grabbed a lilac one and figured they'd be good to cover her while she was in her car seat, at least.

Without a doubt, it was the best purchase out of all of my pre-baby shopping sprees.  To this day, she must have *both* blankets when she takes a nap or goes to bed.  She has a preference for her burgundy one (but she calls it "pink") and will cover herself with it and snuggle the purple one.

Like I said, it just got me thinking...what about these particular blankets made them the one?  What about the green Pooh blanket made it Boo's favorite?  For that matter, why was my brother obsessed with the filthy, smelly, dismembered cheek of a giant stuffed rabbit that he got for Easter one year? (Sorry, Shawnski...I had to put that in there!)  What makes something as simple as a blanket become a wooby, a woo-woo, or even a "blankie"?

I'm not sure, but I do know that there is hell to pay in our house if we can't find them.

Getting All Zen and Shit

Despite my crazy-ass schedule I'm trying to get some regular exercise in.  I find that I'm a much more pleasant bitch to be around if I: A.) don't weigh a schmillion pounds B.) work some stress out.  (Heh...ass schedule.)

I only logged 22 minutes of yoga the other day (89 calories, holla!) and was getting so fucking frustrated because I just couldn't get into it. My mind? Racing. Papers to grade, emails to respond to, grad school stuff to read, grades to enter, my desk is a disaster, I haven't seen my kids in two weeks (I have, but it's neither quanity nor quality), I think I'm fighting something and I feel like crap, and I'm TIRED.

So, I stopped. I was angry about it. Disappointed in myself that I couldn't even get through a 45 minute yoga practice. My self-talk sounded something like, "Why the hell are you so unorganized that you can't get all your shit done in a timely fashion? Why are you SO FUCKING LAZY?" I know, I know, I'm not very nice to myself sometimes.

One of my lovely friends mentioned that every bit of movement, every bit of stretching counts...

It also reminded me of something the lovely and bendy Katherine Budig said in one of her classes that I took via YogaGlo.com: "Be thankful for that fact that you are here today, doing yoga. It doesn't matter that the pose isn't "perfect", it's perfect because that's where your body wants to be, so for today, that is perfection." (I totally paraphrased here, but that's the gist of it.)

So, while my body may be gaining some weight from time to time, and I may limp a bit more, I may not heal as quickly, and I may be too unorganized in my brain to focus long enough to barely hold a decent Adho Mukha Svanasana...let alone a decent Bakasana...the fact that I'm there counts for something.

It's something I really should be thankful for, every, single, damn day. So nana-nana-boo-boo to you, stupid self.