Me too.

The truth of that statement smacked me upside the head.

(Not literally. Obviously.)

Each and every human being is a completely different creature.  My thoughts, my desires, my preferences, my habits, my everything is unique to ME. Out of every single person who resides on the planet Earth, there is not one who is my carbon copy. I am an individual, distinctive, extraordinary, solitary being, like none other.

That whole concept is pretty awesome.

It can also be a little lonely.

For if I am so special (as are you) that nobody can compare…then it can be pretty isolating.

This is where “Me too!” comes in.  All of a sudden you are no longer alone.

You know the feeling.  You meet a new friend at the park who tells you that her boys did not potty train until they were three. “Me Too!” you exclaim, happy to have someone who has experienced what you have, staring down the butt-crack of your kids for three years straight.

You meet another Mom who tells you the truth that she had to let her older baby “Cry It Out” in order to get a good night’s sleep for everyone. “Me too!”, you exclaim. Then you commiserate on the horrid days of sleeplessness, and confess that while your kids still have the occasional night where they pull a “WTH?”, most nights serve as a true rest that helps you to face the day ahead.

It dawned on me that “Me Too” is what brought me to start this site three years ago and what keeps me writing here. The Me Too phenomenon is central to blogging, it seems.

I read posts by my friends that mention skipping Third Grade (and the awkwardness that ensues) and I pipe up, “Me Too!”

I read about The Fruit Commandments and shout a huge “Me Too!” (And also, “HOLLA!”) (I also confess to my hatred of Lemon Meringue pie.)

I reflected on what I have been writing here, and it has been more of the other side of the Me Too community.  I have much of the good, the bad, and the ugly in my life but do not share a lot of it due to many, many reasons.  What I have shared seems a bit selfish, as I have been on the receiving end of the Me Too. The receiver of the “Oh, I hear you and I want to help” version of the Me Too.

The most recent example being the post about my fight with The Winter Blues. I threw it out there, hoping for people to exclaim, “Me Too!” and to share their ideas for embracing winter. It wasn’t about you, it was about me (Though I guess it is my site…)

Here is where I want to give the fun side of “Me too!” to my (wee) community.  I want to share some random tidbits about myself in the hopes that you will see glimmers of yourself and feel a connection.

Here goes!

I feel as though I am a bit of a fraud when people call me a “Photographer”. I am a Chartered Accountant who likes to take photos.  While I have come a long way in my photography skills in the past two years, I have so much further to go. SO MUCH FURTHER.

I lose my temper with the kids. It is not entirely my fault. HOW HARD IS IT TO PUT ON YOUR SHOES IN UNDER TEN MINUTES?

Bad drivers, um, drive me batty. See that yellow line? STICK TO THE RIGHT OF IT. Also. The four-way-stop works well if we all take our turns. You jetting out immediately after the dude in front of you? NOT COOL.

Warm towels out of the dryer are like a taste of Heaven to me.

I cannot stand drinking room-temperature water.  Ice is a necessity.

Then I get cold, and need to drink something warm. Usually tea or coffee.

Which dehydrates me and makes me thirsty. So I reach for some ice water…

And you wonder how I spend my days.

Some days I feel young! And saucy!

Other days I see my crow’s feet, my saggy boobs skin, my lack of any ability to age as gracefully as others seem to do.  I want to be THAT WOMAN who is transcendent in her beauty, regardless of age. I don’t really see it happening. I hope to get there though. It will probably be when I am ninety or so.

I do not think that Will Farrell is very funny.

Steve Carell, however? BRING IT ON.

I wonder if I will ever be truly happy in this body of mine. I make it hunger, I exercise it until it cries out, and I still critique myself more than anyone else ever would. I really hope we can come to peace with each other before I am ninety.

Ninety seems to be a common theme. I hope that if I do make it to ninety, I am not an invalid.

I place a lot of demands on this weakly, earthly body of mine.

Yo Gabba Gabba, while a great distraction for the kids, IS COMPLETELY INSANE. The writers/actors must have access to some seriously sweet drugs.

I have never done (illegal) drugs.  Yes, I am serious.

I sometimes slip and swear.  It is usually the “s” word, but once a year or so I drop the “F” bomb to the delight/disdain of my husband.

I think Jesus laughs when I swear.

I love to cook and bake.  Baking is easy for me, and I have a husband (and children) who eat every last bite.  One goody I have never made is a homemade pie. I should get on that.

I tend to write more than I intend to and then live in fear of the Publish button.  I need to work on that.

Speaking of Publish, I need to do that before I write a novel.

I find it utterly amazing how one simple quote can inspire me so much.  When you hear a piece of Truth it resonates in your soul and makes you want to share it with those you love.

Which includes each and every one of you. If none of my confessions sparked a “Me too!”, please share one of your own. Odds ate I (or someone else) will feel their heart leap upon reading your words.

We are a community, after all.

* That’s like saying that my kids like candy. It’s a bit of an UNDERSTATEMENT.

**A year ago today: Meltdown Photos Are The Best

The first baby always has so many photos.  Each subsequent child has less photos taken of them. Many of the photos that ARE of them also include their siblings.

I vowed that I would prove the saying wrong. Nathan came along and he has the same amount (If not more, thanks to the switch to digital photography) photos taken of him.

Then we have Miss Emily.

When we went to the park last week, I took close to one hundred and fifty photos. AT LEAST half of them were of her. I pondered as to the reasons why.

Part of the reason is that her brothers do not let me take many photos of them. I pull the camera out and they run off in the other direction.  Candids are getting harder and harder to take.

When I ask Graham if I can take a nice photo of him he often makes a funny face. Or something like this.

Yes, he had a fat lip, but that is not what the face was about. HE DID NOT WANT HIS PHOTO TAKEN.

The dentist told us the other day that a few of Graham’s teeth were a little loose. Soon he will lose them and be a gaggle-toothed monster child.

SHOW ME THE TEETH.

Then we have Nathan. Up until recently, he would ask me to take his photo (Hello, Middle Child). Now he thinks he needs to emulate his brother. I either get silly/cheesy smiles, or looks like these.

Ah, The Attitude.

Emily is at that marvelous stage where she usually just ignores me.

I can snap candids to my heart’s content.

I love those big blue eyes of hers, and try to capture them even when she’s ignoring me.

But sometimes…she gives me a freebie.

It only took me a hundred shots or so to get that one, but it was worth the wait.

I plan on taking as many photos of her as I can. Before I know it she’ll be a surly first grader teenager and my days of photo opportunities will be long gone.

She’s pretty adorable though, even if I do say so myself.

* A year ago today: The Perpetual Learning Curve

Dude is 6′2″; putting his feet on the little pegs is darn near impossible. He found an alternate riding position, crazy smart lad that he is.

Oh, to be nineteen.

Those of you who are new around here may not know that back when I was a single lass, I owned a motorcycle.

Matthew and I paid for our own wedding, so I sold it, but BOY DO I MISS RIDING.

(Hello, chubby thighs of my youth.)

(Please also excuse the hair. I had cut my hair super short and was growing it out.  My lame attempt at the “Friends” hairstyle was far better than looking like a demented poodle.)

I was excited to try the pocket bike. I said a little prayer for safety.

Before you give me heck for not wearing a helmet, please know that 1. My full-faced helmet would hinder my safety on this week bike, and 2. Despite how it looks in the following photos, my kids RUN faster than I was going.

On the first go-around I got a little too close to the trailer.

My riding skills are rusty.

I soon got the hang of it and was even able to get my feet on those little pegs.

Wheeeeee!!!!

I will have you know that having my knees up by my ears have made my hip bones a little sore. I’m far too old for a pocket bike.

I had fun though, and blew Honey a kiss.

Every spring when I hear/see all of the street bikes come out, my heart leaps and I long to hop on a bike and go for a ride. The ten minutes I spent on that pocket bike has totally made my itch to ride, um, itchier.

Who wants to join my biker gang posse?

*A year ago today: The Perpetual Learning Curve.

* A year ago today: Saturday’s Photo Shoot

1. It really is not that bad. I don’t want to spend the entire day in bed (Well, no more than any Mom), my eating habits are fine, I am not (Super) moody.

2. I would sound like one of those people who really is depressed, but in complete denial.

“I’m FINE”

*Buries head in sand*

I chatted with my stepmother the next day and told her this.  She brought up that it is pretty normal to have the Winter Blues. She also reminded me that I start complaining about winter when it is still summer and it is all I can do to keep from literally melting. Point taken.

Thanks to all of you who emailed and commented with encouragement, suggestions, and love. Give yourselves a big kiss from me. But no tongue. That’s not how I roll.

The ironic thing about Monday is that after writing a big post about how much I hate winter. Murphy and his Law kicked in. It was bright, it was sunny, it was downright balmy. In NOVEMBER.

Nathan, Emily and I left mid-afternoon to pick Graham up from school. It was so warm that I would have broken a sweat in my ski jacket. We opted for sweaters/light jackets.

We arrived at the school to see that Graham and a friend had just taken a tumble off of the jungle gym. His lip decided to pick a fight with another kid’s head.

His lip lost.

I decided that we all needed a break from the usual, and that we should soak up the last hour of daylight that was left. I chose a different beach than we normally go to as it’s location has more late-afternoon sun.

It also has a lot of leaves.

And a playground.

Complete with monkey bars.

Graham was so proud to be wearing his Remembrance Day poppy.

The park also has a slide.

Like many of the parks around here, it is also on the lake.

We soaked up as much sun as we could. Sadly, all good things must come to an end.

Time to say goodbye to the lake.

As we were walking back to the van, the kids started their impromptu Leafapalooza. We were all laughing and having a great time. They were allowed to throw stuff at each other and I got to take some photos.  All was grand.

Then my fingers froze. The tips started to go white.

I hate winter.

But I am working on it.

* Murphy’s Law will probably kick in and it will be snowing as you read this. I’d put money on it if I wasyou, and I am not one to usually place bets.

**A year ago today: Posting By Candlelight