Okay, two posts in, and I'm going to answer some questions that I assume you are thinking to yourself. Why, you might ask? Because it's my blog and I want to, that's why.
What's the point of this blog?
Not sure. I'm hoping it will be a mish-mash of everything I like. Maybe some stories from my day, some craft projects or ideas, random things that I like, stuff I've done, that sort of thing. I consider myself to be a lighthearted person, so this will probably be a lighthearted blog.
I started this blog as a bit of a challenge to myself, because I tend to get really excited about a project, start it, and never finish it. I challenged myself to to start a blog and stick with it for a year. We'll see what happens.
Why is the blog called "Married to Colors"?
It's a running joke between me and my husband that I am married to colors. Back when I was dating the future Mr. TheBreelyn, I told him how I could never decide on a favorite color, because I like pretty much all colors. My not-yet-husband replied with the classic, "Well if you love them so much, why don't you marry them?"
So, to take the joke farther than it ever needed to go, I pretended to marry colors. I found a blue and green plastic whistle-ring to be our wedding ring. I blew a few high-pitched wheeeeeets on the whistle-ring, and announced that we were married. And after a few days, I pretty much forgot all about it.
The joke resurfaced every once in a while. When TheHusband proposed to me, I accepted (of course!) but reminded him that I did still love colors. He was fine with it. Also, TheHusband is colorblind, which makes the joke even funnier. He lives in a world of blues and yellows and browns - he can't even fully appreciate the concept that I am fake-married to!
How are you going to end this post?
With a confession, Married to Colors-style: I wanted to name our son after a color, but TheHusband wouldn't let me.
Friday, January 25, 2013
Monday, January 21, 2013
Even baby boys like potty humor
My son is about six and a half months old now, and developing his own unique sense of humor. Unfortunately, so far, his sense of humor seems to be centered entirely around his crotch. Ahh, boys and potty humor. Apparently, it's an inborn characteristic.
Exhibit A: He now giggles whenever I do a "sniff check" of his diaper. It's not really a full-fledged laugh, more like a knowing chuckle, as though he is saying. "Yeah, see what I did there? That was just gas! I made you bury your nose in my crotch. There's no poop here. But go ahead and sniff, it entertains me."
Exhibit B: Before we get to Exhibit B, I need to give you some background. He has not once let free with the pee during diaper changes since he was maybe six weeks old. He's been very considerate, and I (like a foolish fool) assumed that I was relatively safe from the surprise stream. But the other day, I got careless. I left things to air out for a bit too long, and by the time I was reaching for a fresh diaper to put on his little baby buns, he surprised both of us by turning on the wee-fountain. Time slowed, and I watched with an odd clarity as not-water splashed onto my arm. He and I both blinked in surprise, then I sprung into action, and tossed the diaper over the offending arc. He, meanwhile, burst into gales of full-fledged baby laughter. For a good minute. And I washed my arm off in the sink.
I had always assumed that little boys developed their love of potty humor by socialization, after hanging out with other little boys and giggling while saying words like "poo" and "doody" over and over until their parents made them play the game of 'who can stay quiet the longest'. And I'm sure that still happens, too.
But a word of warning to those of you who are still reading: the male appreciation of potty humor starts much earlier. Little boys are probably born with it. Okay, maybe not all of them, but mine was, at least. And the funniest part? It's growing on me. Maybe it's the way he chuckles any time my nose comes within three inches of his knees. Maybe it's the fact that I think it's kind of ridiculous, too. Whatever it is, I imagine it will one day lead to me giggling uncontrollably when someone says "duties".
Heh heh....doodies.
Exhibit A: He now giggles whenever I do a "sniff check" of his diaper. It's not really a full-fledged laugh, more like a knowing chuckle, as though he is saying. "Yeah, see what I did there? That was just gas! I made you bury your nose in my crotch. There's no poop here. But go ahead and sniff, it entertains me."
Exhibit B: Before we get to Exhibit B, I need to give you some background. He has not once let free with the pee during diaper changes since he was maybe six weeks old. He's been very considerate, and I (like a foolish fool) assumed that I was relatively safe from the surprise stream. But the other day, I got careless. I left things to air out for a bit too long, and by the time I was reaching for a fresh diaper to put on his little baby buns, he surprised both of us by turning on the wee-fountain. Time slowed, and I watched with an odd clarity as not-water splashed onto my arm. He and I both blinked in surprise, then I sprung into action, and tossed the diaper over the offending arc. He, meanwhile, burst into gales of full-fledged baby laughter. For a good minute. And I washed my arm off in the sink.
I had always assumed that little boys developed their love of potty humor by socialization, after hanging out with other little boys and giggling while saying words like "poo" and "doody" over and over until their parents made them play the game of 'who can stay quiet the longest'. And I'm sure that still happens, too.
But a word of warning to those of you who are still reading: the male appreciation of potty humor starts much earlier. Little boys are probably born with it. Okay, maybe not all of them, but mine was, at least. And the funniest part? It's growing on me. Maybe it's the way he chuckles any time my nose comes within three inches of his knees. Maybe it's the fact that I think it's kind of ridiculous, too. Whatever it is, I imagine it will one day lead to me giggling uncontrollably when someone says "duties".
Heh heh....doodies.
Thursday, January 10, 2013
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For as long as I can remember, I have always left the first page of every notebook blank. I have filled notebooks with homework, lecture notes, poems, and craft ideas, and every single one has a pristine first page. I could never bring myself to make a single mark on that page, because for me, the first page represented the entirety of the notebook. If I drew a picture on the first page, but it turned out to be a terrible drawing, then every time I opened that notebook, that one terrible drawing would suck all of my inspiration away. Or if my first page of notes was in terrible handwriting, or the first poem was a flop, it would cast a pall over the rest of the notes, or poems, or whatever.
So, I left the page blank. Full of unrealized potential. Full of possibility. It was the magic that allowed me complete creativity in every other page. And I like to think it worked. Freed from the overwhelming expectation of the first page, I could scrawl illegible notes about art history next to doodles of ballerinas, and write a few bad limericks on the next page, and an idea for a great quilt pattern on the next page. In other words, I could be me.
This blog is in much the same state as one of my notebooks. I'm not sure what I'm going to write about here, and there very likely won't be a theme. I like too many things. I like crafts, I like nerdy things, I like random home improvements, technology, spreadsheets, quilting, and being a mom. I like shiny things and I'm married to colors.
So this is my blog version of a first page, and it's kind of blank. But it can't be blank blank, because then it wouldn't be a post at all. So, just imagine that it's blank, for me. And we'll see where we can go from here.
So, I left the page blank. Full of unrealized potential. Full of possibility. It was the magic that allowed me complete creativity in every other page. And I like to think it worked. Freed from the overwhelming expectation of the first page, I could scrawl illegible notes about art history next to doodles of ballerinas, and write a few bad limericks on the next page, and an idea for a great quilt pattern on the next page. In other words, I could be me.
This blog is in much the same state as one of my notebooks. I'm not sure what I'm going to write about here, and there very likely won't be a theme. I like too many things. I like crafts, I like nerdy things, I like random home improvements, technology, spreadsheets, quilting, and being a mom. I like shiny things and I'm married to colors.
So this is my blog version of a first page, and it's kind of blank. But it can't be blank blank, because then it wouldn't be a post at all. So, just imagine that it's blank, for me. And we'll see where we can go from here.
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