Mishap in Isle 4.....

I found myself in the grocery store last night standing in front of the hamburger helper section with a blank look on my face because my head hurt and I was tired and I did not want to make dinner. Of course this is where two people I know found me (why not in front of the gourmet baking isle??).  The first person who noticed me is not someone I know well or have even seen recently. I couldn't even remember her name but I was pretty sure I knew where I knew her from.  She jumped right into a nice long discussion about what she had been up to and her preparations for Christmas. Thinking she was one of the mothers from scouts I asked her if she had been to the tree lot yet (we are all taking turns volunteering there to raise money). The questioning look on her face made me realize I obviously didn't know her from scouts.  I quickly re-worded my question into a very generic one - something like " Have you gotten a tree yet?" while my mind raced to place her. Finally she made a reference to football (her son played on the same team as my son. There it is!).  The conversation went pretty seamlessly from there. Ugh but that was frustrating and I felt like a fool for not fully remembering her.  I wonder how obvious it was that I couldn't place her? Probably pretty obvious. An actual light most likely went off behind my eyes giving me away.  I know there have been times when I have talked to someone and I know she did not remember who I was.  I know there have been times when I have had no clue who someone is and I'm pretty sure I pulled it off too.  There's been times when I've just had to flat out ask, "who are you?" I feel like if someone has bothered to remember who I am I should be able to give them the same courtesy. Thank goodness the second person who came upon me was someone I know fairly well so my aching brain did not have to repeat the whole process. Though, on the other hand, the first woman saw me greet the other person and probably noticed the difference between that and how I greeted her...............ugh, my head hurts again..............   
                   So, what is the protocol when someone you vaguely remember starts talking to you like you are old friends?

Not the only broken light bulb.......

We set up the Christmas tree last night.  We got the thing standing and all plugged in and noticed that half a strand of lights were out. Anyone who has ever been in this situation knows that this means we have to go bulb by bulb to find out which one is out.  I get this brilliant idea that Hubby and I should each start on an end and work our way towards each other. So we sit down around the tree, each with a new bulb in hand and get to work. 
          We'd been sitting there for about five minutes when Hubby says from behind the tree, "Is your bulb in?".
          I tell him no and start to move on (5,4,3,2,1 and - ) "Oh My Gosh!!!" I gasp
          
          We could have past it if one of us had our bulb out while the other was trying the new one! How could we (yes, we. It was my idea but he went along with it gosh darn it!) not have thought of that??  Hubby decides we should just carry on but this time (I hate when he is smarter than me) we should make sure all bulbs are in at the same time. 
           So we continue on, testing each light, circling the tree on our butts when I hear him again from the other side, "Well, we are stupid. We should have just taken a glance at everything first." 
           "What? Why?" I'm afraid to hear the answer......
           "Because it's pretty obvious which one it out," He informs me. "This bulb is blown; completely shattered. Look." He hands me the broken little light. Yup, that would have been pretty noticeable if we had looked for it. 
            Stupid, stupid, stupid.  All I can say in our defense is.............ah..................ugh. I have nothing. 

      

      We called the kids back and and finished decorating the tree. As I looked on at the beautiful (fully lit) tree I thought of one thing to be grateful for; Thank goodness the kids were all still little and distracted by a Christmas movie while we blundered through that. Could you imagine how different that scenario would have been if we'd had three teenagers looking on??? (shudder)

Baby's don't just cause big tummies....

My sister is pregnant with her first child. She is about four months along and barely showing. She came here to have Thanksgiving with us and my five year old daughter was very excited to see her pregnant Aunt.  A few days into the visit I'm in the bathroom with my daughter brushing hair and this is the conversation that we have.

Her: I'm so happy for Aunty
Me: Why's that?
Her: Because she hasn't gotten big yet. But soon her tummy is going to get really big.
Me: Yep, that's true
Her: And her hips will get big and her butt will get big and then she'll know it's time to have that baby.
Me: choking on laughter....
Her: Then I really hope she gets to go back to her normal size. - for her I hope that.
Me: Wait, what????
Her: (with a look like I should know this stuff) Some mommy's still have big tummy's and hips and butts even after they have babies. I know. I've seen them.
Me: Well, that's true but I think you are right, I think Aunty will go back to her original size. 

We've never talked about people's size before.  I knew she had probably noticed that some are larger than others (it is the age for it after all) but for her to put it like that just cracked me up! Big hips?? Geesh!

Entering the Divorce Stage of Life

                It seems that I have reached that age where friends are no longer getting married but rather getting divorced.  It makes me quite sad and also causes me to feel a little guilty for being so happily married myself. I am also finding that most phone calls with friends are only about their respective divorces and never about any of my news.  The amount of times I have been told recently that this is "just between you and me and don't tell ANYBODY" is astounding.  What I want to do is tell all these people to try to make it work, stick out this rough patch, don't give up! But I know that a) no one will listen and b) that might not even be the right answer. 
              With all these friends going through this right now I find that my own life is altering. Couples night is out. Suddenly, Hubby  gets nervous at the mention of girls night because my friends are now trying to meet guys. Calling a girlfriend to vent is no longer an option as I will end up not getting to speak a word while they sob on the other end.  I feel terrible for them, these housewives forced back out into the world they have forgotten about by men they trusted to take care of them.  It terrifies me a little bit too. Not all these women saw it coming. Some, in fact, were caught completely off guard. Like my girlfriend who asked her husband on Father's Day what he wanted as a gift and he said a divorce. I wonder if there is a divorce lurking in my future that I cannot yet see. I wonder if my time is coming when Hubby will drop this bomb on me.  I don't think my life is heading that direction even remotely, but then, I wouldn't have been the only one so fully fooled. 
              I know the statistics, I see the numbers. More than half of all marriages end in divorce. I guess it is just different when it is happening around you to people you know and not just a number in the news. Hubby and I have been close to divorce before but somehow we've always managed to drag our mangled bodies out of the war zone and patch things up. Honestly, I think we are better people for it; we are definitely closer for it.  I want to tell everyone that they too can make it work, but I'm not that naive.  Instead, I am a silent confidant for those who need one; there are no words I can speak that will help them through this. It is their own journey. Instead of offering worthless advice to greived friends I plant a longer kiss on Hubby as he walks in the door. I snuggle closer at night. I bite my tounge on little critiques. There is no reset on life. I only get one shot to make this marriage work.  I wish the best to all these people - to anyone having to go through this heartache.

A Series of Mini Stories

   November has been crazy. We flew to Disney World, I flew to Minnesota and then drove to Minot North Dakota for my sister's wedding. I then drove back home with my sister and new brother-in-law because they were joining us for Thanksgiving. We spent two days cooking for the big day and had a wonderful time. Kids went back to school today and I am finally getting a chance to sit down here and write something. With so much having happened I have no idea where to start. So, I am going to tell a series of mini stories. Here goes.

The Long Walk 
I am in Milwaukee on a layover. All I have with me is a carry-on bag and my purse. I am wearing these ridiculously gorgeous and impractical boots because they won't fit into my bag.  I'm starving but I figure if I can at least get a coffee I will be okay. So, dragging my bag I start trekking up the ramp in these high heeled boots. I walk down two corridors before I finally find a place that sells coffee. I order, I wait, I pick up my steaming cup and walk back to my gate.  This entire process has taken me twenty minutes. I put the cup to my mouth and take a satisfying sip.............this is not what I ordered.

The Boot Exchange
There are six girls in my family and none of us share a shoe size. My youngest sister did not have a pair of boots to match her dress for the wedding so I had brought along an extra pair of boots (a big reason why I got stuck wearing mine through the airport). These boots were too big for me but too small for her so another sister wore my boots and gave hers to our baby sister.  It worked out great for the big day but there was quite a scramble to get all the boots back to their owners after the reception.  Having sisters is fun!

The Wedding Cake 
As with most things, when information passes through multiple hands it tends to get distorted. This must have been the case with the wedding cake because I can think of no other reason why, when the cake arrived, we were looking at a bright yellow cake with baby blue ribbons and black dots. Our initial response was to try to make it work and take cake pictures in black and white. But with one look at my sister's face I knew we had to take more drastic action. Thankfully, five phone calls later we were heading off to the ceremony with the understanding that a cake would be ready for us on time.  As soon as the ceremony was over the step-father of the groom rushed to the store to pick up the cake and I rushed to the reception hall to hide the old cake and have the place unlocked and ready for the new cake.  Luckily the new cake was all the right colors, a soft cream with teal ribbing and silver beads. And the rest of the evening went off without a hitch.

The Ceremony
We are not catholic. My sister's fiance's family is Catholic Orthodox. So throughout the service there is all this chant and response going on and we have no idea what to say or when to say it.  My sister and I are about to fall over in our high heels (I was the Maid of Honor) if the service took much longer when suddenly the Priest starts off on a rant about marriage in the news. The look of alarm on my sisters face was almost enough to make me stuff a doily in the old guys mouth but thankfully he stopped after a few painful minutes.  There are a lot (and I do mean A LOT) of symbolic steps that go into a Catholic Orthodox wedding. I do not recommend ever going to one.  My poor sister looked like she wished she wasn't there either. But, when one side takes it that seriously I guess you just need to comply. 

Road Trip 
I love road trips so I was looking forward to this one with my sister and new brother-in-law.  We had great conversations and debates, my sister and I napped frequently.  We drove through Chicago and Cleveland. All in all it was a really good trip. Except for one thing......My Husband is a speeder, not by a lot but you can pretty much bet he is going nine over the speed limit at all times. My new brother in law goes exactly the speed limit or even a little under. Sitting in the back seat watching the minutes add themselves to our arrival time on the GPS was near torture.  Every once in a while I offered to drive but (I guess it's a guy thing) he was determined to do the whole trip himself. He's a good driver, very smooth. By the last few hours of the trip I was ready to knock him out and stuff him in the back just so I could speed things up.  It didn't help when we realized that his GPS did not account for time change and we actually had an hour longer to go than we thought.  But.....we made it. Without anybody getting knocked out. 

Thanksgiving
I'm all about home cooked so I spent two days in the kitchen making two pumpkin pies, two apple pies, sweet potatoes, cookies, cheese ball, mini hot dogs is secret sauce, greenbean casserole, stuffing, a 20lb turkey, gravy,  cranberry mold and more. By the time we sat down to eat I was exhausted and barely ate a plate of food. I didn't mind though. I figured even with three men and two boys in the house there would be leftovers and I could eat more later.  Uhm, yeah, I was wrong on that one.  There was barely enough left for one serving of everything. But before I could get to it Hubby snatched it all up.  I feel like I missed out on Thanksgiving. But I learned my lesson. On Christmas Eve I'm hiding a plate of food for myself.  Can't fool me twice!

Caught Looking Goofy

         It's that time of year again.  School pictures are coming home and I get to see just how goofy my kids managed to look this year.  I have many of my own school pictures and most of them should be burned - they are soooo embarressing. Big plastic blue glasses, a bad hair cut, aweful clothes......  I have some of Hubby's too; let me tell you, when I first looked at both of ours I was a little concerned about what our kids would look like.
        Thankfully, we made pretty cute kids.  But cute kids can make weird faces as good as the rest of them.  I can't tell you how many pictures I can't use because one of the three of them is making a face.  Well, there was also that period where my oldest tried to look all gangster in every photo and ended up looking like he had no control over his limbs and was in pain - but we won't go there.
         I get handed the first envelope and with a deep breath I open it up. Wonder of Wonders! It is the best picture I've ever seen of my youngest son! He looks positively angelic! I am so thrilled!  With a lighter heart I open the second envelope. And........ there it is. Chin down, eyebrows raised, biting his top lip and crinkling his chin. My oldest's pictures are not going to be able to be passed around. Thank goodness for re-takes.
        I haven't seen my daughter's yet...........I hope she wasn't caught looking goofy.

Spent the Week in Disney World

      We just got back from Disney World.......Wow! What a fun time.  We have been before and each time we have such a good time and have new adventures. It truly is its own world.

      When you do a repeat activity like this it is easy to see how your children have changed.  My oldest didn't want to get pictures with any characters this year and when Drizzella (Cinderella's evil step-sister) kissed him on the cheek and left lipstick behind he had his hoody up to hide his face and was looking for the nearest bathroom to wash it off! Last year my middle son barely made the 48in height requirement for the biggest rides and was always getting measured. This year they didn't even glance at him as he walked by. He also pushed the stroller for most of the trip (such a sweetheart!).  My five year old daughter was so excited to see the characters and talk to everybody.  But then she noticed that during the fireworks Tinkerbell is on a zip line and not actually flying.   And then she noticed feet under the snowman's costume.  She felt so tricked and betrayed! This is all such a difference from not just our first visit but our trip just last year as well. 

        But enough about them and on to me! (hehe).  We had the dining plan in Disney which means TONS of delicious food.  I really waned to eat it all but there was just no way I could.  For one thing it hurt my

 stomach to even look at all that food but also I knew all too well that the pounds would be more than happy to attach themselves. I drank sugar free ice tea or water, avoided the fries and fried food and always left food on my plate.  Hubby on the other hand was eating all his food plus some of mine and the kids while drinking milkshakes and eating dessert.  

Yesterday morning was the moment of truth. I stepped on the scale.  Even with all that walking and never finishing my meals I still gained 2 1/2 lbs.  Hubby, well,  he lost four. Aaaaaaarrrrrrgggggg!!!!!! I could have killed him dead right there! How is that fair at all?!?!?!? Why oh why does he get to LOOSE FOUR POUNDS and I gain two and a half???????. I ate less,  I took more steps with my shorter legs, I carried the backpack. It doesn't add up! Men suck. That's all there is to it.

On Empty

       My phone rang. It was a girlfriend of mine. "You're never going to believe this" she says "I ran out of gas across the street from you."
       She wanted to come sit with me until AAA could get to her but I had a can of gas in the garage, "Just sit tight for a sec" I tell her.  
        I grabbed my umbrella (Did I mention it was raining?) and went to the garage.  As I crossed the street a patrol car pulled up to the light. He sees me, umbrella in one hand, huge gas can in the other.  I get to my friends can just as the patrol car makes his turn and drives past us. Yup, past, as in didn't stop. We get the safety valve on the can open and start adding gas to her tank when a SUV pulls up and out pops another friend of mine.  She had seen me and wanted to make sure I wasn't the one needing help. Thankfully she had an umbrella because in order to hold the gas can I'd had to put mine down.  So now there are three ladies standing in the road filling up a tank.  One is holding the safety valve open, I'm tilting the can up and the other is holding the umbrella. A pick-up goes by and we hear two men laughing through the open slit of their window.  Nice. I'm sure we were a sight, wet hair sticking to our faces, none of us wearing anything warm enough to be out there, obviously ran the tank too long on empty. We have no idea how much gas is getting into the tank or how much she even needs before it will start again so we decide to check what the dash board says.  To do this we stop filling, take the can to the curb and wait. Nothing. So back we go, fingers freezing, trying to re-open the safety valve and add more gas. We are the perfect cliche of ditsy women.  Second time is the charm and she is able to get the car started. We say our goodbyes, I retrieve my umbrella, pick up my now lighter gas can and walk back home. I'm cold, I'm wet, my just washed and styled hair is a mess, I got laughed at. Being a friend is hard sometimes. Being a good friend can be a full time job sometimes. I am so glad I have friends that know they can count on me and friends that will stop in the rain when they see me on the side of the road.  I'm so glad I have friends I don't need to keep score with. This friend of mine? The one who ran out of gas? She takes care of me too.  She's driving me to the Airport in a few weeks and then picking my kids up from school.  Stand in the rain for her? You bet I will!

"To Fat for Prom"

            I  hate shopping. I hate HATE shopping - unless it's for shoes (but that's another story).  It started when I was a kid and my mom would list all the types of clothes I was too fat for. I was taller and thicker than most kids my age but I wasn't even chubby.  It got worse as I got older and got into high school.  I was too "fat" for a two piece bathing suit and too "fat" to go to prom.  I was too fat for skirts and dresses with belts and shorts......The thing was, I wasn't.  I was 5'4" 138lbs and a size 8.  My mother would sigh and say, "At least you have baby making hips. Some guy is really going to appreciate that about you and you guys will have tons of babies." That is such a mean thing to tell a young girl barely into puberty!  I've grown a little since then and I've lost 20lbs. I now wear a size 2 or a 4 depending on the store.  Shopping should be fun now but it's not.
       
             My sister is getting married so I need a new dress.  Hubby kept the kids and I took the day to go to the mall.  I was afraid to try on dresses that might make my legs look chunky or that would make my hips look too big. I was afraid to try on dresses that would flare at the waist.  I spent four and a half hours shopping, I only tried on three dresses and I hated how I looked in all of them.  By the time I got home I was depressed, stressed and had a raging headache.  I told Hubby I'm just wearing my black dress that I've had for years and that I feel comfortable in (but I'm getting new boots to wear with it!). 

            It shouldn't still be like this. I know I'm thin. When I wear clothes I already own I feel great; but, when I go shopping, I suddenly fall back into the same feelings I had as a kid and I hear my mothers voice in my head again.  The logic is all there: she was wrong then, it certainly isn't true now yet, I can't shake it.  Hubby wants to take me dress shopping (I usually only clothes shop if he takes/makes me).  He shouldn't have to make me shop (seriously, how twisted is this?)

            I'm working on getting over this. I can't undo the hurt that was done to me but I can make sure not to repeat it.  I'm working on not doing this to my own daughter.  I will always tell her how beautiful she is - even when her body is changing from a little girl's to an awkward teen's. I will always tell her how amazing she is no matter her size or shape.  I will always tell her how pretty I think I am and let her see my self confidence.  I want her to LOVE to shop - because she knows how great her own unique body is.

Cutting Faces

Halloween is this weekend. The kids are very excited. The front of our house is all decorated and last night it was finally time to carve the pumpkins.  When I was a new mom I did the pumpkin by myself. Hubby didn't want to help and the baby couldn't. For the first three years this is how it was. Then the boys started to be old enough and instead of the mess of trying to carve with them I let them paint pumpkins instead.  They never looked like faces, just like globs of black paint from too many colors being mixed together and smeared everywhere.  Two years ago we didn't get big pumpkins we got three little ones. They all painted their little pumpkins and for the first time they actually had discernible faces.  Last year with all the moving going on we bought one big pumpkin but never actually carved it.  This year we went to a farm and picked our pumpkins ourselves.  Last night we all worked together like a well oiled machine each taking a part in the process. I cut off the tops, Hubby scooped and the kids designed faces (that I carved to their exact specifications), We knocked them out really quickly.  It was so much fun and so stress free. It was yet another reminder that time is passing and my babies are growing up before my eyes.  The era of paint slapped onto a pumpkin with little hands is gone. The era of having to do it all myself has come to an end. As much as it annoyed me to display pumpkins that looked diseased, I miss that time. When Halloween meant I had holiday coloring pages covering every spare space of wall and the scariest thing they wanted to be was a lion or a police man. I have no coloring pictures and my ceramic ghosts go un-played with this year. I will be taking a vampire, a zombie and Boba Fett out this weekend. This year my home has three jack-o-lanterns that look amazing.  As cool as they are, they annoy me.  They are a glowing reminder of what I have lost forever. A little poke to the heart that I may not have enjoyed that time as much as I could have.  I feel this overwhelming desire to hit rewind or at least pause so I can keep them younger just a little bit longer. I love these guys. I know it, they know it. It's just a little weird to feel it so strongly while cutting faces.

They are among us.......

Many people think superheroes don't exist.  These people are wrong. Super Heroes are amung us. I am living proof. I am a superhero.

I have speed. I am able to clean, do laundry, rake, walk dogs, etc and yet still pull a sheet of homemade cut out sugar cookies out of the oven as the kids walk in the door for them to ice for Halloween all before I start dinner.

I have healing powers.  A splinter, a scratch, a scraped knee? These have no power against me.  With a gentle touch, a band-aid and a kiss I can heal.

I can read minds. I know if a playroom wasn't cleaned just by looking at their face. I know if home work was left undone without having to ask. I know if someone was picking a fight with a sibling.  I know. I can read minds.

Some of you may argue that I'm just a mom. I disagree. Just as Spider Man's body was altered on a DNA level, mine was as well. This anomoly is called pregnancy. I did not have these powers before that strange event. The truth is -  I Am ~ A Super Hero! The truth is, some of you may be super heroes too...............

Come Home and Stay

I have two dogs. My female is four years old, 45lbs and the sweetest dog anyone could ever hope for. My male will be one this winter and though he is a puppy with all that that implies he is a sweetheart and we love him.  The female is "my" dog and the pup is my husbands. This was not by design but rather by the dogs choosing. 
Titonius is suppose to be 25lbs but he is only 15lbs. I don't know why but I've nicknamed him Boo much to Hubby's dismay. He is a boy-boy. Loves to fight, play and run. He throws the ball for himself and will threaten anyone who dares come to our door. He has recently gotten the hang of the school bus hours. 10 - 15 minutes before the bus shows up he is looking out the window for it. Once the boys start to leave he begs them not to go and then runs from window to door for a good 20 minutes hoping they are coming right back. Then the pre-k bus comes and we go through all this again ending with a walk through the house wimpering. And when it is time for that bus to bring the boys home in the afternoon? He is at the window a half hour prior wining at any bus that passes. He is so excited everytime they walk through that door. Dogs are smart creatures and it is so cool to watch him look for that bus KNOWING it is coming. Thank you for loving our boys Titon.

Princess is a girl all-the-way. My daughter can put bracelets, hairbands and necklaces on her and she likes it! She would rather hang with the girls than rough house with the boys. She even likes to get her claws painted. As much as she loves playing with my daughter she is MY dog.

Last night my little girl wanted Princess to sleep with her. Normally Princess is where ever I am so I wasn't sure how this would work but I told her to get on the bed. My little girl wrapped her arms around Princess' neck and settled in for sleep. Princess was fine with this until she realized that I was leaving the room. With a hand on her side I asked her to STAY. She wasn't happy but she did it and she didn't move until two hours later when Hubby and I were getting ready for bed. He called the dogs to go outside one last time. Princess didn't come but I heard her whimper. I went up to the room, she was waiting for me to tell her she could leave and go outside.  This made my eyes well up. Knowing that my girl loves me so much is pretty special but knowing that she will stay by my children if I need her to is a much more powerful gift. Thank you Princess for all you give me.

I'm 5. No Really I Am

My youngest child, my daughter, just turned five.  For her birthday we took her out to eat. While there she and I made a trip to the washroom. My daughter is very happy to be five. She thinks she is soooooo BIG! And discussing her age in the washroom prompts a question; How old am I?

I tell her since I think I'm still pretty young - I'm still in my twenties after all. She, on the other hand, is SHOCKED by my "oldness". She thinks I must be making it up. Our conversation goes like this:

"No you're not. You can't be. That's so OLD!"
"I really am. And, that's not that old."
"Well, maybe you're not that old. Maybe your eight. Eight is old."
"I'm not eight. Your brother is eight. I can't be the same age as my son."
"You should tell people you are eight. Don't tell them you are so old. It's kind of, uhm, gross."
"I'm not telling people I'm eight."
"I don't have a sister. You should be my sister. Tell people you are five like me. They will think we are  sisters."
"FIVE!?!?"
(In a sing-song voice) "sista-as"
"Sure. I'll tell people I'm five. They'll believe it."
"Say it. Say sista-as."
"Sista-as"
"Yup. We are sisters and we are both five. Come on. Let's go tell people."
Back at the table.....
(To Hubby) "Daddy. Mommy is now my sister. We are both five."
(Hubby to me. With a very shocked look) "Really? You're five now, huh?"
(Daughter to waitress) "My Mom is my sister. We are both five."
Waitress does not look convinced. Actually, she looks a little worried.
I just smile sweetly.

I'm five. No really. I am.

Shotgun in hand............

I'm afraid to knock on my neighbor's doors.  I know they are waiting for me shotgun in hand.  They know why I am knocking. I want their money, every last dollar I can wring from them.  I will take it all with a smile on my face trying to convince them they want me to have it. It's fundraiser time.

The football and cheerleaders are selling raffle tickets (this means I have to sell twice as many). The cub scouts are selling popcorn tins (Again, I have two in scouts).  The school sent them home telling them to get pledges for sports day (that's three kids needing pledges) and, this means I don't even have anything to give to these poor people! Dance is selling candles. It doesn't end!  

I don't want to go to the store for fear I will see a familiar face ducking down the cereal isle. I walk my dogs with head bowed as neighbors peak behind curtains with baited breathe praying I'll pass.  My texts asking to meet for a coffee go unanswered - they think it a ploy. 

I can't really blame them. I'd avoid me too. I'm done. I quit. When it comes to fundraising I will never be the "perfect" mom and my kids will never win a prize for most earned. But I might need to put out a white flag announcing my surrender, my withdrawal from the fundraiser race. Because the next time I need to borrow an egg I don't want to be met by a suspicious neighbor, shotgun in hand...........

Let's Face It, You're A Little Doughy

          We were sitting on the couch yesterday evening prior to going to the gym and we were talking about Hubby changing up his workout. Our daughter who was in the room turns to Hubby and says, "Let's face it, you're a little doughy." This just cracked me up much to the dismay of Hubby. The truth is, he isn't. He is a very solid 235lbs.  He's not extremely cut up but even through a shirt you can see he is all muscle. I discovered later that it was a line from the Hannah Montana show.  This isn't the first time she has thrown lines from a show at us. And each time it seems to be a perfect fit to the situation.  Last spring when my allergies were bad she told me, "zip it drippy, no one cares" (also a line from Hannah Montana).  For the amount of TV shows on we don't let them watch all that many, Wizards of Waverly Place, Phineas and Ferb, Hannah Montana, Sweet Life on Deck and Scooby-Doo about sum it up. I confess to being a fan of Wizards and Phineas and Ferb myself.  We are so busy that they don't watch these all that often yet it apears that when we do it is making an impression. Enough of one at least for her to remember lines and use them in the correct context later on.  It makes me wonder just how much kids are picking up from TV and video games and, well, life.

My Secret Love

I sleep, I dream, I hear a tinkling of bells. My alarm on my cell phone has just gone off. It is set to go off every weekday so I never have to worry that I forgot to reset it.  As I open my eyes and stretch my phone bings. My daily weather update has just arrived. I'm still under the covers but I know exactly what the temperature is outside.  As I get the children ready for their buses my phone jingles. Cub scout updates and practice updates have just come in.  I text my girlfriend to see what time she will be arriving at the gym.  As the kids leave on the bus I grab my Ipod and head for the gym.  When I get home I log on to my library's website and request a hold on a book that a friend just recommended. My sister and I IM back and forth making plans for the evening.  I'm meeting her at a place I've never been before. My kids bus is running late and the show they love is starting but there are no worries. It is automatically DVRing so they can start it from the beginning when they get here.  I send out e-mails about my daughter's birthday and I google pictures of cakes to get some good ideas of how to make hers.  My sister in the Dakotas sends me a picture via text of the wedding dress she is thinking of buying. I can give her instant input from across the country.  Time to leave to meet my sister; I put the address into my GPS and head out.  While driving I listened to my favorite radio shows on my Sirius Radio without a care in the world because a lovely english woman is going to tell me when I need to start looking for my exit. I love technology. We are inseperateable. I know people survived forever without it. I don't ever want to have to do it though.  I love my back up camera on my van and the website I use for recipies. I love automated reminders and information at my fingure tips. I love it all.
Just for fun, here's a list of things my kids have no idea about:

        Cassette tapes, walkmans,

        VHS tapes, VCRs

        only 6 chanels

        type writers
        phones with cords
        Car phones
        Cars without DS charger adapters in the back, sirius radio, Ipod download capabilities and DVD player

        CD's or a CD player
        A phone book
        A map book
        Picture film

       

       

      

With a Dash of Karma

           I'm a Christian but there is something to be said for karmic retribution.  When I was in Basic Training I was put in charge of my Flight. Two other girls did not take kindly to this and devised a plan to get me booted back a week. It worked. Not only was I sent back but I was taunted by all the instructors, I lost all privileges, my mail was tossed instead of given to me. I was also required to do twice as much P.T. as the rest of my new flight. I was even alienated by my new group. It was discovered too late that they had set it up and I could not be moved back up though my treatment did change slightly for the better. It worked out. I ended up setting records for the female run and push-ups. I gained the respect of my new T.I.s for handling everything with dignity and was honored by being picked to sing the National Anthem at our graduation.  I bet you are wondering what this has to do with karma. 

 A week prior to my graduation, when my old flight was graduating I saw the two girls. They both had all their long hair chopped within two inches of their scalp and had plastic shower caps on their heads. They had gotten head lice during their field week.  Aaaah, sweet retribution.

          I always try to remember this when things go wrong for me. I know their is justice in the universe. And good karma, just like bad, will come back to you.

         My neighbor and I recently got into a bit of a disagreement.  It was a silly matter of me trying to change something in consideration of people driving in front of our houses.  She got nasty and I dropped it. To make a long story short we haven't spoken since.  Yesterday the bus came early and she was not home to pick up her daughter. I held the bus for her.  She now feels so awful for how she treated me that she is being super sweet and even offering to do things for me.  Sweet justice. I'm wondering how much I can take advantage of this before I swing the karmic pendulum the other way.........................? 

Football is Consuming my LIFE

My oldest son (as I'm sure you are all sick of hearing) playes football. Practice is twice a week with games on Saturday. My daughter cheers for football on Saturdays and practices at the football field the same nights. My husband coaches, which means we get together with the team (like the pot-luck at our house last weekend). My husband also playes in two leagues, one on Wednesday night and one on Sunday. We always watch the NFL games - at least one sometimes three. This weekend we are having people over for the game.  All my husband is capable of talking about right now is football. No matter how the conversation starts, it ends with football.

                 me: " I talked to my sister today. She has morning sickness really bad."

             hubby: "I was feeling sick before my game. The first quarter we............."

                 me: "Boys have homework tonight"

            hubby: " I need to do some research so I can update my fantasy football team"

Our family meals are all centered around football. Practice? it's hamburger helper, fast food or something quick like spaghetti. NFL game? I'm making nachos, pizza or chili. No more big weekend breakfasts with all the trimmings. Now it's protein bars, pop tarts or doughnuts on the way to the game.

I'm doing double the laundry because of all the practice and game clothes. And washing the floor twice as much from all the cleats walking through the house.

Last night after Hubby's game (which they won) kids went to bed. Hubby went to bed.  I sat down at the computer. When Yahoo! popped up there were those little articles about football bloopers, miracle plays and the dead player. I was reading it all for about ten minutes before I realized what I was reading. 

 Football is consuming my life!

A Eulogy and an Ode

A Eulogy

He made us laugh

He always made us feel loved

He brought us joy and fulfillment

He was ready for us when we needed him

He knew how to keep things interesting

We only knew him for a short time and his terminal illness was hard on all of us as we watched him fade. He will be missed. He is already missed. I ask that those who knew him join me for a memorial service on Saturday at 9pm. Anyone who would like to share a memory may. There will be no viewing as the family feels this would be inappropriate.

In loving memory of:

Our Love Life

2001-2010

I wrote this at the end of summer. My husband is in college as well as working full time. Finals were getting to him and our love life was suffering. He didn't think it was funny. Maybe you will. 

And an

Ode to My Metabolism

We use to be friends, you and I

To loose weight, I didn't even try

I thought it and POP!

Five pounds would drop

I use to be able to count on you

This morning I looked at my coffee

And I swear my stomach grew

I thought we were Best Friends Forever

Counting calories? Never!

You'd always let me order extra fries

Now the things go right to my thighs

So now I know that no bite is free

How long had you been planning

to ditch out on me?

I know I took advantage of you

I took you for granted, it's true

But you really left me in a rut

Have you seen the size of my new butt?!

Our old friends are no longer welcome here

I can't even tell you when

I last saw cookie, chip or beer

I thought we were a team

What you did was just plain mean

You left me like a bad divorce

But I guess that's par for course

Tight arms, slim hips, adieu

Farewell Metabolism

I guess it's no longer me and you

Crazy Chreerleader Moms

           My daughter is a cheerleader this year (bowing head in shame).   She had a cheer competition Sunday morning. We were up at 6:30 curling hair, putting on make-up, taking a magic marker to her cheer shoes, packing snacks and drinks that wouldn't stain her hands, mouth, or uniform, and all my required spirit wear (beads, tattoos, shirt, etc). We drove an hour and five minutes to the competition and paid five dollars for parking. On Thursday there was a rumor it would be cancelled due to the weather but it wasn't. At least, not until we had been there for an hour and a half, standing in the drizzle waiting for it to start (shaking fist at stupid directors).

           This news meant every parent was trying to get out of there at the same time. The ensuing chaos was, well, chaotic.  Cheer Moms, in there high priced SUV's,  were jumping the grassy dividers between parking areas trying to get into a faster moving line of traffic. They were refusing to let mothers from opposing teams pull out of their parking spots into the line of outgoing traffic. At one point two cars were fighting for the same spot in line, both inching forward, almost daring the other driver to hit their car. When, into this dangerous situation a large silver Chevy pick-up truck jumped the divider landing between the two cars and tried to intimidate them into relinquishing the little hold they had on that spot. Not to be outdone, a new white Nissan SUV jumped the barrier as well landing on the outside of the pile. I watched in horror as all four cars tried to claim the spot which, technically didn't even exist yet as traffic had been at a standstill for the past seven minutes and a stroller could not have fit there. Another cheer mom with a blue and silver pom-pom tied into her hair and bright blue eye shadow up to her over-plucked eyebrows bounced across the barrier from the other direction trying to force her way in front of us. I'll let someone pull out of their parking spot into the line but I wasn't about to let her in. She joined the chorus of yelling moms (Everyone's windows are up - including yours. Who do you think can hear you??). My mini van and I stood our ground. Four minutes later when we finally inched forward far enough she gunned it. At reckless speeds she cut in behind me, bypassing our line, she jumped another grass divider and barrelled her way into that line of traffic.

                I was once stuck in a parking garage for four and a half hours after a Yankees game. People were peeing, in corners, shouting over the walls, honking. It was bad. But we all managed to take turns in a fair and orderly manner. I'm telling you, cheer moms are crazy.  All in all it took us fifty three minutes to leave the parking lot.  We have to return next weekend and do this all over again. I'm thinking of upping my insurance coverage before then.  

A Short History, a Poem and the Truth

I'm well aware that I come across a little too happy with myself and my life.  I know I can seem conceited,stuck up, blind to reality, whatever label you want to put on it. I know I sometimes seem to have a great, trouble free life that is too gag-me-sweet for anyone to want to hear about. And I know I sometimes come across like I think I have answers. Well, let me tell you how I got to be here.

A Short History

I was born into a cult. My much older father had married my much younger mother. They both had issues. I was the first child of many between two husbands.  We were home schooled and had very little interaction with others outside the church. We were also dirt poor (literally), beaten, mentally abused and brainwashed. We moved all over the country based on where the "church" said we should go.  When I was 14 my parents enrolled me in a public city high school. Those were some of the worst years of my life. I didn't dress right, talk right or act right. I had no clue about movies and music.  It didn't help that I was also more advanced than my peers in the classroom. I wanted to kill myself. I tried once. Others picked on me. I was raped twice.  As soon as I graduated I joined the military. I got as far away from the U.S. as I could. And I married the first guy who treated me well once I got there. Marrying a stranger at 18 is a stupid move. We didn't know each other and our differences made our relationship unbearable. As soon as he realized how easily I broke he broke me - repeatedly. Though he never laid a hand on me his words and actions cut me deep. Once again I contemplated suicide. I begged for a divorce. But really I had no where to go.  Then he went on a long deployment. It was the best thing for us. I grew strong. I strengthened my relationship with God. I became unbreakable. He returned and tried to pick up where he had left off but I wasn't that person anymore. I told him I was leaving and I did. Something inside him snapped at that moment. The man I had been married to died and a new man was born.  I stayed though I did not love him. I love him now, so much more than I had loved that stranger ten years ago. And now, now I have a wonderful house, kids, body, husband, life, town and church.

A Poem
Written when I was 15, I believed there was no happiness to be had, everything was a twisted game and life was the real hell.

There is no
Utopian Nation
Life of
Temptation
Play with
Flirtation
Use
Manipulation
Such a
Twisted Sensation
When the
Devil's Creation
Drops us at
Hell's Train Station
Ride 'til
Damnation
Past all
Salvation

and the TRUTH
I've been through a lot. I know a lot. I made it through, not just surviving, but thriving. I cannot regret my past because it brought me to my present. I am who I am because of all I have been through. I may seen weird to some but they do not know my story. I'm ok with who I am. I love my life because I want for nothing.  I am a happy, God fearing woman who believes things happen for a reason and anything can be overcome. I am very compassionate and love to help but no one is allowed to step on me.  I am not conceited, just incredibly grateful for what I do have.  And, now you know why; I know what the other side looks like.

Stand my Ground or Walk??

Two houses down there is a child who goes to pre-school with my daughter. The bus stops at both houses. Since we live on a busy street this sometimes stops up to twenty cars. At first the other child only road the bus home. In the morning the bus stopped at our house and in the afternoon to help keep traffic moving I walked two doors down so both children got off the bus in one stop. This week the child started riding the bus to school as well. On Monday, I suggested to the mother that she walk down to my house is the morning and I'd walk to hers in the PM so we don't hold up traffic (hasn't happened yet).  Yesterday afternoon at the bus stop I asked her what she thought and she said she'd let me know. Today she starting ranting at me via text that she will NOT walk to my house and in fact she believes I should walk to hers both times as her house is the first stop, especially since I'm the one all concerned about traffic. She also tells me that she feels more comfortablee with her daughter being picked up in front of her house. THERE IS ONLY ONE HOUSE BETWEEN US! Not to mention, we are required by law to be out there with them so I am not suggesting her child walk herself to my house. I honestly don't mind walking but then I have to wait with her twice a day and that bugs me. Also, it is scheduled for the bus to stop twice; I was just trying to be helpful. This morning I waited at my house. I can't stand people walking all over me.  Should I walk or stand my ground?

Over the Train Tracks

We recently moved from a big city to an tiny town most people haven't even heard of.  Taking kids to practice use to involve a fifteen minute drive - at least, and freeway travel and rush hour traffic. STRESSFUL! Last night while my son and I were walking to practice, (that's right, walking, it's just over the train tracks) we had the most fun conversation about catching grasshoppers.  After practice he suggested we go see the end of his brother's practice. Before the move this would have meant an additional 17 minute drive. But, I happily agreed, after all, it was just over the train tracks. Walking to the football field we talked about the wonderful outdoor smells, we jumped in the first fall leaves, we held our thumbs up to the moon. This is what I have been missing when we drive everywhere. I watched my child laugh along side me. He caught me watching him and grabbed my hand. With a squeeze he said, "you are the greatest Mom ever".  I hadn't done anything to deserve this praise. Honestly, we were walking more because I'm trying to do my part to cut down on pollution then because I was trying to be a good mom and spend some quality time with my son. Still, it worked out, no pollution, a healthy little walk, quality time with my boy. I love how our little town is bringing us closer. When my daughter gets home we are walking to the store that sells homemade jams; it's just over the train tracks.

My Success is not Yours

The Surprise Party
Throwing a surprise birthday party is hard! I couldn't think of a good hiding place for everything I had purchased so I decided to leave it all in my car. Hubby checked the bank account and wanted to know why I had spent so much - I lied - shamefully well. He went into my car to get the soccer ball. Thankfully I had moved everything into our second stairwell. He wanted me to meet him for lunch with friends, which I couldn't do with food cooking and prep work to be done but I couldn't tell HIM that so instead we fought. He was suppose to be gone when guests arrived but because of the long lunch he didn't go to the other thing he had planned, which meant he was home. He looked at my cell and saw text messages between his brothers and I. Thankfully, he finally took a nap so guests were showing up and keeping quiet in the yard and sun room. Our darling son ran into the house calling for his brother to come outside because their friends were here. This woke up Hubby who was just too curious about what friend was here to go back to sleep and came outside. His family showed up 30 minutes late (they were suppose to arrive first to help me)so Hubby was already out there when they pulled up. But, He was still kinda surprised. The large grocery bill and the missed lunch date didn't clue him in.  Though he figured I was planning something from the texts, he didn't think it was for that day. Even the friend being at our house didn't give it away until he walked outside. So, a success, of sorts. He had a great time.

What is SUCCESS?
But this all leads to another thought, He just turned 30. He's been married for 10 years, he has his boys and his girl, he has a dog, a house, a successful job. By many standards his life is on a good track and he should not feel "bad" about getting older - not that 30 is old.  We heard a lot of this over the weekend. "he's got his S*!t together". One friend who came is two years older than Hubby. He also agreed that Hubby had his "stuff" together. He, however, is unwed, with no prospects, no children, a new(ish) career, only a small townhouse which used to be his grandmothers. He stayed long after all other guest had left and what he really wanted to talk about was this.  What were our thoughts? Was he less of a "success"? Should he want these things? And, what if he didn't? Honestly, I'm not sure. I mean, I'm a stay-at-home mother. My entire identity is wrapped up in the belief that the life I have makes me successful. Seriously, I'd be very depressed if my idea of success was a well paying career.  Hubby too considers himself a successful person; he has the life he wants. But isn't that success? Not so much what the life is but that it is the one you want? Our friend is indecisive.  Are people still so programmed to think that a house and family is the ultimate success that they can't even fully acknowledge that it might not be what they want? And if it isn't what they want, isn't it better for them to be a success at something that makes them happy than a depressed individual who is a crappy spouse and bad parent? Everyone is just so different, I don't see how there can be a one size fits all idea of success.

How To: PLAN A DISASTER

Okay, so here's the deal. My husband wants a surprise birthday party. It's a big birthday for him so I get it. He is a very good Hubby (mostly) so he deserves it. My problem? I have two actually.........

Problem #1)
He never celebrates my birthday! This year I told him in no uncertain terms that my birthday was going to get celebrated or his wouldn't. My birthday is a full month and a half before his. He FINALLY took me out last weekend. Oh! And I got the babysitter, picked the place, sat him down at the computer so he could send me an e-card before we left and even had to keep reminding him so he wouldn't forget the date.  And, there were no gifts. I get that this is hard for him, I had a great time and I don't mind having to orchestrate it all myself as long as his heart is in the right place about it. But I don't think he can ask for a Big Surprise Birthday Party if he can't even say Happy B-day to me and get me a card without serious prompting. And, seriously, six weeks past my birthday and a week before he wants a party?????

Anyway, because I love him, and because I am a complete pushover when it comes to him I am trying to throw him a surprise party, uh, TOMORROW! Oh, gosh! This is all so awful!

Problem #2)
My husband is a bit of a beast. Most people, well, they don't really like him.  He looks like he's on steroids, he is very, very smart.  Everything he says, whether it is nice, a joke, a suggestion or an insult sounds the same -mean. It is hard to talk to someone who looks like that, sounds like that and also knows what they are talking about. Oh, did I mention he has no patience? Especially for stupidity.  Who in the world am I suppose to invite to this disaster??? (I mean, party)
I invited his family, one of his long time friends and one of his co-workers as well as one of the guys he coaches with. I didn't even bother with trying anybody from his football team, they love him on the field but he gets more penalties than anyone else and is always yelling at his own team. I really don't think they would come.

image from: http://www.sconefest.com/john/blog/marvel/hulk_m.jpg

The funny thing is, he is a really great guy, He paid to take my baby sister and brother to Disney World because they have never been, he coaches 6-8 football, he does dishes and laundry and takes care of the yard. He takes his boys to boy scouts. He even takes me clothes shopping.  He deserves this - even if he does act like the Incredible Hulk in front of everyone else. I really hope this does not turn into a huge disappointment...................

Keeping the Trains

              I have a sister getting ready to close on her first house. I have another sister who just started college. I have another sister who just found out she is pregnant with her first child. Another family member is getting married this weekend. It makes my life feel stagnant. True, I've already done all these things. It just feels like all my big firsts are past.  

             I had a different kind of first today.Today, I decided to keep the trains.  My middle son was very big into Thomas the Train when he was little. Even though he hasn't touched it in years he never wanted to get rid of the stuff.  Finally, I decided I was going to donate them. I started to sort through the bin when a memory hit me so hard I froze.  Do you remember Little People? The actual little ones not the "safe" little ones? We had tons of them when I was growing up, we had houses and schools and shops. We had a station wagon and a pop-up camper. We had a play ground. I loved those little guys. It is the only toy from my childhood that my parents kept and when we visit, my kids can play with them. I think that is awesome.  I'm a tosser. I don't keep things. They go to charity, get sold or get trashed. I have very few things from my kids first years. I just don't see the point. I decided to keep the trains. When my kids have kids and they come to visit I can pull out the big bin of trains. I will remember my son playing with them, I will watch him remembering that wonderful part of his childhood and I will watch my grandbabies play with a well loved toy saved just for them.  It's a different kind of first, that's for sure.Actually, it makes my stomach act a little funny thinking about it. I'm really glad I'm Keeping the Trains.  

Hello Road, I missed you!

               I'm a runner. We are a special breed. We only compete against ourselves. We run in weird weather conditions, we pee in the woods.Yeah, I know, we are so cool! I haven't run most of the summer since the kids were home.  With school back in I knew my time had come but the past two weeks I just couldn't get out there.  Today I woke up with a strong desire to run.  I put on my running clothes, saw the kids off on their buses and headed for the door. My plan? Run to the gym and back. The gym is about four miles away. I honestly didn't know if I would be able to do this as my fist run.But, I figured the gym gave me a half way water break and worst case I could beg a ride home from one of my gym friends. I acually made it there feeling pretty good. I went in, got a drink, and decided, yup; I'm gonna run back. I told a friend who has to drive past my place to get home to watch for me and make sure I hadn't died trying to do this.  I set out for home and after about 100 yards I thought I had made a big mistake.  Now here is why I love running. Running is not a skill. I don't need to know the rules, I don't need to know how to throw or catch or hit.  There are no special moves to practice. You don't have to go to a special field or court. You can start anywhere and end anywhere.You get out there, you take a deep breath and you just go.  You trust your own strength to move you, to carry you over hills and around curves. You can think while you run and let the scents of the life around you fill you up.  The empowering feeling that my strength can carry me over this distance is awesome. When I started to think I couldn't do this I thought about why I love to run, I put my head down and said OK I am doing this! I made it home. Actually I made it home pretty fast. I'm really suprised I was able to run 8 miles at a 7minute mile pace.  I feel great right now. The road is my friend and I can't wait to get out there again.

I'm a Biker Chic (Yeah right)

          This weekend Hubby and I went out.  I was really wanting some Olive Garden bread sticks and salad and he sweetly agreed to take me there.  So up the stairs I went to change into something nice.  A few minutes later he shouts up that we are taking the bike. This is fantastic since we haven't been on it in a while and it is starting to get cold so this may be our last chance this year. But this also means I'm changing into something more casual. When I come down the stairs Hubby tells me I look like a biker chic. I hadn't meant to but with my black boots, skinny jeans, studded belt and favorite black t-shirt I guess I kind of did.  Not really caring I kissed the kids goodbye, gave final instructions to the babysitter, put on my safety gear, hopped on the back and off we went.

         When we get there Hubby pulls to the curb in front of the door to let me off so I can get us on the list. I swing my leg over the bike. I unstrap my helmet and pull it off. My long hair fell out of my helmet landing around my shoulders and in my face.  I shake my head to get my hair out of my way. Holding my helmet in one hand I turn to the door to start walking.  Every eye is on me. (yikes!)  This was a Saturday night which means there was a crowd outside waiting for their buzzers to go off. I walk the gauntlet of staring faces to the front door. I think, huh, I kind of like this. I go in I get my little buzzer I head back out. Every eye is still on me. I think, huh, I don't like this. 

          While Hubby and I wait for our table, then eat, then pay, then leave I noticed people looking over at us.  You can see the thoughts in their eyes.  They think our lives are exciting, they think we may be dangerous, or, at the very least that we have a devil-may-care attitude. You can see the young boys and some of the dads envying Hubby. You can see that some of the older folks think "I used to be like that". There is a perception, a preconceived notion about bike riders. I have noticed it before. The most prominent one was on our road trip to Atlantic City. We were at a stop light and there was an older woman in the car next to us. She kept giving us pointed dirty looks like we were the problem with the world.  Part of me wanted to jump off the bike and tell her "Wait a minute before you judge, I've been married to this man for nine years. We have three kids and we are good parents, we give to charities and go to church. We barely even ever swear or drink!" And part of me wanted to flip her off and stick out my tongue, which probably would have just proved her point for her.  But really, why judge? You really have no idea. I like riding on the bike. I love the feel of the wind and the sway of the bike. I love being wrapped around Hubby. I love that I have to trust him completely on a bike. 

The bike for us is an escape, a deviation from our normal existance not a public statement about who we are.  And yet, that very experience of conclusions being drawn about us gives another dimension to that escape. For that moment maybe I am a wild woman, traveling the country with a biker I just met, not a care in the world, never knowing where I will lay my head or who I will meet next.  

Whose the F*CK are These?!?

Hubby was folding laundry (yes, he's wonderful) when he calls for me to come to the room. As I walk in I see he is holding up a pair of boxer briefs that are obviously not his. "Whose the Fuck are these?!" he yells at me "Whose the FUCK are these?!?!?" At first I had no idea. And then it hits me.  I broke into laughter which seemed to confirm my guilt, which made me laugh harder. I had to call my oldest son in to explain.  I'd been shopping with the kids earlier in the week.  My son said he needed new underwear so I had let him pick some new ones out.  These belonged to our son. Hubby was very relieved.  I wasn't. I mean these boxers wouldn't have fit,well, Hubby. But, they would have fit a slim man. My oldest son is a big guy for his age. He's taller and stockier than most kids his age. People think he's about two years older than he is.  We wear the same size shoe, we share t-shirts, I've got about 8 inches on this kid, max. But I don't think I really SAW how big he was getting. Earlier today I went into the bathroom after he was done showering (which he does exclusively) to collect dirty clothes. The second I opened the door my senses were assaulted with a smell which, until that very instant, I had associated

with men - the smell of a man's soap. My baby was using men's soap?  It

wasn't the soap his father uses though so I asked him about it. He said he

found it tucked into the back of our hall closet.  Sooooooo, not only is he

using it but he actively tried to find it??  Since when was  the  scent of the

ocean not good enough for him?  When did  this start to matter? How  is

this happening so fast???? Getting hit by my son smelling like a guy AND

wearing boxers big enough to freak out my husband all on the same day

is a bit much.  I need a drink.  

Come Again??

I need to brag for a minute:
I am a very pretty woman. I take good care of myself. I dress well. I have curves where they should be. I'm confident and self posessed. I moisturize.
Here is why I tell you this:
I was playing with my daughter, acting all silly when I collapsed onto the couch laughing. My daughter takes this moment to give me a little advice. With a hand on her hip she tells me,
            "You know? You should really work harder on being pretty and girly and less hard at being a dork."

Okay, yes. I readily admit that I have a dorky streak and maybe it is bigger than I like to admit. But did my baby really need to say that to me???
            My immediate response was to say, "Hey, I am pretty!"
            To which she replied, "Well, yeah, but only 'cause you look like me!"

So true, she is a five year old version of myself. Same hair, same eyes, same nose and smile.  We differ is our fashion sense though. She thinks shorts are for boys only and if it is not pink, purple or "matches our eyes" it is not to be worn. And hair is NEVER to be in a pony tail unless it is for cheer leading. I am constantly getting grief from her for not having on heels and not having gloss on my lips.  But this - this insult! It's just too much! Maybe a mom who no longer has toddlers has to let go of the goofiness.......or maybe I'm going to grab her when she comes into my room to wake me up in the morning and tickle her until she takes that comment back!

Went Fishing, Caught Duck

I have a fear. It is embarrassing but I can't help it. I've had it since I was very little. Worms freak me out. My boys keep asking me to take them fishing and my first thought always is, then I'll have to touch a worm....

 I recently discovered that you can fish with tiny crayfish (which I don't have a problem touching). However, yesterday evening when they asked to go fishing there wasn't time to go to the stream to catch crayfish and then go to the pond to fish. I came up with a brilliant (cough. I thought) idea. The last time we went to the pond we brought bread for the ducks and the fish went crazy so I figured (OK. I admit. It was a bad idea) we would fish with bread! I grab a bag, the poles, the kids, put everything in the van and we headed out. When we got there I looked for a good spot. Being the smart person I am I picked a spot away from the ducks. I rolled little bits of bread up and put it on their hooks. I also threw crumbs into the water to attract the fish. I, uh, attracted the ducks first. The kids quickly pulled in their lines but one duck just wasn't having it. He chased that line and kept trying to grab the moving bread. He had made his mind up to get that piece of bread.

Finally he caught that bread and made a triumphant noise which was cut short when he realized his beak was caught. Another duck was hurling himself at him and we were trying to pull him in to unhook him. It was mayhem. We got him to shore, shooed the other duck away and managed to get the hook out.  Poor duck. Thankfully he will be fine. Being the smart person I am, we did not pack up and go home. We moved further away from the ducks and tried again.  This time I am pleased to say we actually caught a fish!

Bus Comes When?

      My daughter started pre-school today.  We were told to have her out side by 9:15am. Being who I am, we were out there at 9:10. Not bad. It was a beautiful day and we were having fun. 9:15, 9:20, 9:25, 9:30....still no bus. Finally at 9:40 I drove her to school. When I tried to figure out what had happened and what to expect tomorrow I was told there is only one bus for ALL the preschoolers and my daughter would be on the bus for 30+ minutes each way and no one knew when I should expect the bus to arrive in the morning. THE SCHOOL IS 3 MINUTES FROM MY HOUSE!  When school was done she wanted to ride the bus home so I figured I'd let her.  I put her on it and went home to sit on my porch and wait for her. I had just opened up my book when the bus pulled up and dropped her off. Okay....
    So this time I talked directly to the Bus Driver. (I apologize to all the cars stopped behind him) Apparently there was a major accident he got stuck behind. Apparently he will be at our house between 9:30 and 9:40 every morning and apparently she will only be on the bus for about 10 minutes.  How does this information get so skewed?  Seems pretty simple to me.
       Anyway, she had a great first day. I guess she will be riding the bus tomorrow.

Communication

With that big communication fiasco eating up time the only thing I had time to do was head to the gym.  With a friend on each side of me on the elliptical we got into a bit of a discussion about communication (granted it revolved more around spouses than school staff). We agree that the biggest problem between the sexes is communication; the technique, the quantity and the desire for. What do you think?