The Wink is a labor of love, occasional source of ire and constantly influenced by the toddlywinks in my life- my daughters. There's also the HunkyWink. You'll read all about them as The Wink unfolds. Please feel free to wink back!

Thursday, October 30, 2008

Page 42

Ok, I understand the reality that not all clothes fit the same, that is to say, a size 10 by company x might fit like a 10, while a size 10 from another brand fits like a 6 or a 16. I try things on, I squat and twist, bend and peek around at the backside, but I'll be damned if I wait ten minutes to figure out if they fit or not.

Here's the description of a pair of pants in one of the catalogs that came in today's mail:

Runs small, order one size larger. Need to wear pants at least 10 minutes for proper fit; body heat molds stretch fabric to the body. Should fit snugly on the waist and hips with no pulls or baggy fabric.

Ummm, wtf?


Wednesday, October 29, 2008

Let's get rid of the nasty pulva, shall we?

So all the field trips have us all good'n tuckered out.

And the state of my hair has been, well, not as bad as the resident Barbies who've taken to bathing in the dishwasher...

But still, I got it cut.

While Ave Swiffed.

And Fin practiced her newest trick.

And Briar contemplated how soon she could begin dating.

So, in other news, Amy had her baby, Yakima lost a great lady and my far-away friend went and got herself hitched!

What's happening with you?

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Sunday, October 26, 2008

Help me find the words

In what is looking to be a recurring category here at The Wink, we have another create-a-caption shot. Remember the vasectomy shirt?

Well, today's shot comes from another excursion with Sean, a Halloween themed field trip with Briar's school.

Let 'em rip.
What's the caption?


Tuesday, October 21, 2008

Hope to see you there!

Tonight was the open house at Briar's pre-school. I was excited, eager to prove my mettle a parent (Super-working mom able to manage small details). Sean didn't feel quite the same way after watching me return crestfallen from the first "Parent Planning Session" a couple weeks ago. I shifted everything on my schedule, sprinted and generally lost my senses in order to be on time for the 9:10am meeting that promised to be "quick, easy and informative." I anticipated at least 14 parents, maybe more, and the teacher. Had I been a bit less flustered I would have realized that the likelihood of the teacher attending was slim as she would be teaching, duh!

That meeting turned to be a sucker meeting that other parents knew to skip as it was a sort of, "Hi, we don't really do the party, you do. So it's really all up to you and if it feels like more than you* can do, you should feel fine asking other parents for help as you wait to pick your child up after school."

*You, was actually five of us:
1 mom who works part time at the school
1 mom who had been through the routine before with her older son
1 mom who, based on the faces she made, will never attend another meeting
1 mom who so help me is the kid who raised her hand, switched hands, looked around desperately while shaking her raised hand and held it up with the other arm sighing and twisting from the exhaustion of knowing it all, but now she's all grown up
and me

Sean calmly suggested that if I felt that I had to go, to take Briar and he would stay with Ave. Being irrationally nervous, eager and resolved, I said I'd take Briar and Fin. He said great and got ready to go for a run. Briar began spinning in circles, feeding off my tension.

"Are we going to my school?
Are you going to come?
I have to pee.
You promise not to leave without me?
K. Mom? If I pee will you not leave without me?
Please don't go outside the house to my school without me.
I am peeing.
Are you still here?
Are you leaving?
Will you wait?
Can I come?"

I waited and then we left. We arrived at the school at 6:23, the open house was due to start at 6:25.


We walked giddily into the school, Fin babbling and Briar chattering. I couldn't wait to have her show me the different parts of her classroom, what she likes to do, what her favorite activities are. I was so grateful to be there, to be investing the time in letting Briar know how proud we are and how involved we want to be in her experience. We raced down the hallway and burst into the room.

There were no kids. None. And everyone was already sitting down. Moms and Dads, not the rag tag group of grandparents and moms that show up for drop off and pick up. I felt my knees start to buckle as I clasped Briar's hand in mine, not wanting her to dash into the center of it all. Her teachers smiled at me, "Hi Briar. Hi Amanda, Fin."

I nodded meekly and slunk to the floor pulling Briar with me with a gentle, "Shh." We sat and the teachers continued talking.

How did everyone know not to bring their kids? The invitation said "open house," not "parent teacher conference." I concentrated on keeping the stinging flame of embarrassment from enveloping my face in an unmistakable shade of scarlet. I smiled weakly at the moms who kept looking over at us. I thought I'd say something about Sean working late, but I didn't have Avery, so it wasn't as if I could say I couldn't find a sitter.

"Mom, can I sit on the stars? It's where we sit when the teacher talks," she was scooching forward, eager to be in compliance. I whispered for her to stay. "But mom, we gotta sit on the stars." I shook my head, "No, honey, it's different. This is a meeting." She looked at me,"How come there are no kids here? Where are all the kids?" I began to sweat. "I'm not sure, honey, but I am so proud of you for being quiet. If you can just be quiet a little longer I'll get you a treat at the store."

Several of the parents looked over when Finley would coo or kick. I tried to smile despite the dryness of my mouth, the sensation of overwhelming insecurity took me back to standing in the hallway of Roosevelt Middle School in my long-coveted Guess jeans only to have a gaggle of girls question loudly why my pants looked the way they did. They were straight leg, clearance rack, too-long jeans in a time of ankle length, pegged jeans. I snapped out of my 6th grade flashback as I heard the teacher explaining that parents should be proud of the artwork coming home.

"If papers come home looking unfinished, it is because it's a 4 year old hand doing the work, not a 4 year old hand covered by a teacher's hand."

It made sense to me, then she continued, "We are teaching them to use glue sticks and handle projects so that in kindergarten when they are given the whole project to do alone they can do it."

Through the haze of feeling foolish I began to sit up straighter. I may not get this whole when to bring kids, when not to bring kids, when you need to show up and when you are kind of a chump for showing up, but I do get being a mom. The projects, the juggling, the guilt, it can sometimes threaten to overwhelm, but damn, I am doing some things right. Between the meetings and shopping, cleaning and folding, I am letting them use glue sticks, praising their art work, letting them stutter until they are able to get the right word, and allowing them to work out their differences and testing limits.

I have a long way to go on understanding play dates and some moms, but I have never felt more certain that the things I am doing are good. Right. After the open house Briar, Fin and I went to the store. It was a sweet trip and despite my earlier embarrassment, the memory I now have of that night is of conspiratorial whispering with Briar and wicked giggles at Hannaford, perhaps not "by the book," but great for "our book."

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Monday, October 20, 2008

My life in 30 seconds

Work - Insane, big opportunity at 1pm EST, think of me.
Home - Laundry, OMG it's almost done, Fridge, OMG it's almost stocked
Family - Played, colored and had dinner w/girls - bliss
Marriage - Work, but bliss
Self - Worked out 2x in 3 days, cute hair, happy w/shape, clothes suck (3 out of 4 ain't bad)
Blogging - Missing it and all of you with a ferocity that cripples, but will be back when waters from 1st item settle

More soon.


Friday, October 17, 2008

I'm an Ex

Today I was tooling around the local community college campus doing research for a meeting we have next week and I was taken back to my smoking days. Bench after bench, retaining wall after retaining wall, female students were sitting cross legged, a book perched on one knee, while they took long, slow drags off cigarettes. It looked so foolish to me, as I sit newly on the north side of my 30's, for these vibrant young women to be engaging in an activity that has been so clearly demonstrated to kill. Taking health out of it, it also marginalizes beauty, cheapening one's appearance, dulling hair, yellowing skin, deepening wrinkles and cloaking skin in malodorous layers of cigarette funk.

But I remember, god do I remember. There was such an emphatic and absolute disconnect between my smoking and the implications it carried. I didn't care how much money I spent, didn't consider the time it was taking off my life. I loved smoking. I am not ashamed to admit that I felt cool, most of the time, every once in a while reality nipped at me and I'd stamp out a smoke before I'd finished, kind of like running up the basement stairs and slamming the door to keep the monsters out. Most of the time I felt sexy. Tough. A maverick, snort. Seriously though, I saw it in their faces, unapologetic. It was sobering. Probably a classic I'm-35-now-epiphany. We just have so little time. I regret every cigarette I ever smoked.

But I have to say, I am an ex. It can be done. I am ashamed of my past, sorry I didn't listen or acknowledge, but I am really proud to be able to say to that I came out on the other side, especially to people like Brian , a future ex.

I was sitting watching the Sox game and a commercial came on for Become An Ex. It so perfectly pierced the quitting smoking "trigger" argument. As a smoker talking about quitting I used to say, "Not sure what I'll do, driving and coffee are my two triggers. Can't do either without smoking."

Here's hoping you can become an ex, too.


Tuesday, October 14, 2008


We love the Macs here at Chez Magee. Neither of us owns an iPhone ("Yet," Sean would say) so when Grandma arrives with hers, it's a mad dash to see who gets to play with if first. Next. Most.

For those of you worried about Fin's delicate lil head, let me just say, for the most part, Ave pulls her punches and ends with a lopsided grin as she emphatically pats Fin's head.

It should also be said that Fin gives as good as she gets.

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Thursday, October 9, 2008

That's the one.

Just this:


Wednesday, October 8, 2008

The Answer

Oh, how I enjoyed reading your little snickery comments about nuts! Brilliant, delightful and very close to hitting the mark.

Here is the video which explains the shirt, reveals my "dainty titter" of a laugh, and foreshadows a lifetime of laughter with my best friend.


Monday, October 6, 2008

Anatomy of a bad picture

We went to Burlington on Saturday, specifically to the Echo Center. A 15 minute ferry ride in the middle of the hour+ drive satisfied Sean's road trip itch without aggravating the girls' road trip boredom, being a wishy-washy weekend planning mom, I just wanted everyone to be happy.

Here I am struggling with the idea of a ferry ride in a cast (translation: large body of water, one good arm, three kids, inability to save everyone should the ferry sink. Hi, neurotic much?) Sean thought my panic was hysterical.

Once safely across Champlain I wanted a shot of the girls outside of the Echo Center, seemed so fun!
Eh, I suppose they could have looked more miserable and forlorn, not sure how...

Then there was the cool little nook they found to sneak peeks at the turtles, which in person looked exciting and magical, and in pictures looks creepy and depressing.

The tower tube of bubbles, which delighted them and made me smile with pride, but in the picture looks like some sort of Vegas phallus signaling a futuristic Chippendales show.

A sweet play romp on boulders on Church Street, captured on film to remind us all of the day, colored by a grassroots pro-Nader and anti-Obama table.

And no preamble here, just a creepy dude. I like the Sox, but no, just no.

And here I am frolicking with the big girls while random be-shaded guy approaches looking as if he might whisk Fin away.

This last one is a teaser for a video soon to be posted. Any caption ideas?