Hey Hey Hey!

It's Fat Albert! Whoa! Maybe not. But maybe so. I am pathetically out of shape and out of clothes that fit right. I am especially out of patience with not being comfortable and with people asking if I'm prego. Just 'cause I LOOK 6 months pregnant, doesn't mean I am! *ah* tricky, I know. If you can't trust your eyes, what can you trust? Well, you can trust me when I say, NO! It ain't happenin'.

New routines are not hard to design. Now, finding one that you can stick with is another story. I have currently been working on getting my spring cleaning done- somedays much better than others- but, I have yet to add exercising back on the list. Until I do, I am afraid that unwelcome questions will still come my way. It doesn't get on my nerves so much as the power of suggestion makes me think about our decision to stop at 2 kiddos...

I am sure that the questions will never really stop, because even 'back in the day' when I weighed a whooping 105 lbs people asked me if I was prego. It all comes with the apple body shape. Ah well, there are worse things in life by far, so it's time I stop obsessing over it and just get back into shape. Maybe I would do it faster if I had someone to kick my butt. I'm up for a fight- just not against myself.

Things Lost

Among things lost in this house: a sock to my new pair, now gone. The fresh smell of laundry gives way to the freshly used cat litter now floating its' fragrance down the hall. All humidity and soft skin has given way to bloody noses and alligator skin for the winter. And last, but most importantly (to me anyway) is the fact that Germany is no longer a living part of my children's memory. It has gone the way of the inevitable of such young minds... a simple believable fact that Mommy and Daddy tell them about, but of no substance or reality. They still remember Aidan. Ariel still remembers Sebastian. Nathaniel still is lonely for Amelie and Elias. Sometimes Christine too, which he thinks is the best teacher ever.

But gone are the memories of the streets, the food, the smells, the neighbors' smiles and comments, the language altogether, and even Irena. I could not believe that Ariel did not remember Irena. In just under a year, all is lost, except for what we tell them of it. Just last month Ariel could tell me who was who in her picture book, but not anymore. It was just a strange and saddening moment to me to hear her say she didn't know who Irena was. It was like at that second Germany became an illusive dream that didn't really happen. Like all things, it was already lost to time. Sometimes time gives healing, other times joy, but this time sadness.