here is a silly, stately style indeed! ~ king henry vi

I was sitting on the floor of the playroom with Clara this morning and I had taken my shoes off downstairs. She and Ben decided to make a game out of putting stickers on my sweatshirt and were completely engulfed in this game as I sang silly songs to them or periodically attempted to grab them and snarffle their bellies. They were running back and forth from the sticker sheet to me, when Clara stopped in her tracks, halfway across the room. Her eyes widened and she pointed to my feet. "Yaren!" she says, in her high-pitched, three years old voice, "Your socks are matching today!! Your socks don't ever match!" It's true, I typically pull out the first two socks from my sock drawer, without a care in the world if one matches the other, and she always thinks it's the funniest thing that my socks don't match. What she doesn't know, is that I think it's the funniest thing that a three year old child noticed that I was actually wearing matching socks.

I gobbled her up and squeezed her as she squealed with laughter, and she wrapped her arms around my neck and said "I yuv yew Yaren and yer silly socks!" - she's a smart little girl and too adorable for words.

These are the moments that make up for all the other exasperating ones of nannyhood.

but that one half which is unsatisfied ~ love's labour's lost

My purple fingernails look shiny and confident as I tap out these words.
I can't help but stare at them.
Can one actually be vain about something as trivial as fingernails?
Mine are actually looking quite lovely - though this purple seems to be somewhat of a storm cloud purple. A bit of a gloomy shade I suppose, confident, but gloomy. A bit like I'm feeling today.

Weird day today.

The weather, too, is gloomy. I typically fall in love with gloomy days. Not so much love for this one.

I want this day to be over. I want something new to come my way. I want to act for a living. I don't want to be a nanny anymore. I want to put away the bottles, the bouncy seats and the baby books, and sip on a glass of pinot noir, lay in a hammock beneath the afternoon breezes and read scripts. It's just so difficult to be a professional actor in Nashville, and to be one full time. In fact, I don't think I can count on two hands how many actors in Nashville don't have to have a second income. I'm well rounded. And not in the sense of scenes and scripts, but in the area of marketing, PR, working with customers, working with children, speaking in front of people, choreographing - I would love to get with a company that would let me act when the show was right for me, and let me work administratively or creatively when the stage was dark and the patrons have left the theater to the ghost lights and church mice.

I feel like I belong here right now, but I still feel, well, a little out of place, like I haven't quite found my niche yet. I'm working on it. For the time being, I'm focusing on creating a dance, an interpretation of a flamingo's courtship ritual. Well, actually, for the time being, I'm waiting for Annaliese to awaken from her afternoon nap, and then I'm going to entertain her by practicing my audition monologue and showing her my dance. I'm sure she'll love it. Most 7 month's old children love just about anything.

I want to finish my degree and get a job in advertising. I love school. I LOVE to learn. Absolutely love it. I suppose that's why I have educational, daily devotionals*, and have my Droid loaded with learning applications, I simply can't get enough.

I'm a nerd. I get it. I embrace it. I fulfill it. And then I act nonsensical in public places and make my friends laugh and the people around me look at me sideways with their lips puffed out in confusion and the hoods of their eyelids arching forward as if to protect their vision from the oddity at hand. But, it's me.

I made an entire pot of coffee this morning and I'm more than halfway through it. But I somehow forgot that one should eat meals along with the consumption of coffee. Well, I didn't really forget, I just can't find anything worth eating. Nothing sounds appetizing. Not a damn thing. I didn't want my morning eggs, I haven't craved my usual peanut butter toast topped with dried cranberries, no spicy pasta, no pickles, no hummus - not one thing sounds delicious. So, I'm picketing outside the pantry until my taste buds decide they've gone off strike, and then I shall delight in some tasty morsel. Until then, the coffee will just have to do.

*The daily devotional I'm reading is titled: The Intellectual Devotional, Modern Culture

how many children hast thou? ~ king henry vi

When I arrived this morning at work, I was greeted by Phoebe, (Ben and Clara's mom) who looked undeniably frazzled and was wearing a hideous combination of clothing. (Typically she dresses adorably, but today was not one of those days) Phoebe was wearing a burgundy red wrap dress, that wasn't tied right. It in fact, looked awkward, as though she forgot she was tying it mid-bow, and went with a loose loopy effect instead. I have a feeling if she doesn't notice it soon, it'll come undone and she'll lose her garment. Her 5 month's pregnant belly is starting to round out and look quite precious, as she carries her baby weight completely in her belly. She was wearing light blue and pink jewelry, which I think might have been intended for a different outfit, and she was wearing pumpkiny-orange colored loafers that otherwise might have looked quite couture with the right slacks; but certainly not with this red wrap dress. She had started to put on blush, but missed a cheek.

She opened the front door with a forced smile and said: "Good Morning, Lauren, how are you?" I replied that I was great, a little tired and worn out from the usual stresses of my every day life, but otherwise, okay. She cut me off saying: "Lauren, I'm going to work today, and I'm never coming back. You can have the children...FOREVER." I laughed as she said this, thinking it must have been a hectic and crazy weekend for her, when she continued. "I'm serious, they're driving me crazy. I can't take it. I can't. Ben somehow crawled onto the kitchen counter, got in the sink and started washing his pacifier with the spray nozzle. I don't even know how he got up there. Clara goes in her closet every hour and changes outfits. They run around like banshees and -- they're yours. You get to keep them. Your birthday's next month, right? Happy early birthday..."

So, my day has been crazy. They're supposed to be down for a nap at 12:15-12:30, and I just got them wound down enough to go to sleep. It's now almost 1:45. I'm definitely worn out. "Let's play this", "I wanna eat that", "pick me up", "Ben stole my Barbie", "Clara has my train", and on and on and on and on...wow...and Phoebe's pregnant. AGAIN. That means, starting in August, I'll have three toddlers under the age of 3.

Anybody looking for a nanny job?