Okay, so when Tom and I were first reunited after being apart for a little over two months we were in a polite phase. I mean, Tom even was holding the car doors for me and that rarely happens! He startled me when he first did it. I went to open the door and he shrieked, "STOP!" and I thought there was a bug or a freaky Texas animal near me so I started bouncing up and down in shock.
"I'm just opening the door for you," Tom said calmly, craning around my convulsing body and pulling open the door.
Oh.
See, Tom and I were able to have an overnight date while my parents watched the kids. We were extra polite then as well.
"Where do you want to eat?" I asked in a businesslike voice.
"Wherever you want." Tom's voice echoed my tone.
Normally I'd be all, "I have a hankering for beans so let's go to Taco Bell."
Or Tom would say, "I want Wendys."
We danced around figuring out what we wanted to eat. In the end we decided on The Rainforest Cafe which is in downtown Texas. His Mom actually came in that day. Her original plan was to watch Tom graduate but then they moved up his graduation so she never made it for that. But she still wanted to see him and see the grandchildren.
Tom startled me again when he pulled out my chair at the restaurant. I thought he was going to sit down in the seat that I was about to settle down in so I moved over and he went, "No. I'm pulling this out for you."
I even got Tom to watch The Proposal which would have NEVER happened had we not been apart. Usually he makes fun of chick flicks and makes barfing noises if I mention one. But that night he went, "Yeah, I'll see it."
I bought our tickets before he could change his mind.
It was a good movie. Tom even laughed. I tried to convince him to watch My Sister's Keeper next but he bluntly told me not to press my luck.
Then we went back to his room and I wanted to shower. I needed to shave my legs because they were starting to get prickly. I stepped in the shower and I pulled out my razor and cream and...
...Tom walked in and plopped on the toilet and stared.
Um.
"Hi," I said brightly even though I really wanted to ask him what in God's name he was doing perched on the pot watching me.
"Hi," he replied.
There was a silence. I stood there as the water dripped off of me. One leg was covered with the cream and my hand had been poised over it with the shaver ready to go.
"I need to shave," I explained even though it was obvious what I was about to do.
"Go ahead." Tom made a motion for me to continue with his hand. "I just wanted to watch."
Erm.
"I'm just shaving. Nothing fancy," I said. Please leave...please don't watch me shave!
"That's okay," Tom said calmly.
So I cleared my throat and figured I ought to try and look sexy while shaving. Normally I quickly run the shaver across my legs but that's not attractive. I tried to think back to the countless movies that I watched where the female character shaved in a sexy fashion in front of a guy. Surely there was a movie where that happened? But nothing appeared in my mind. All I kept thinking was, "My husband is watching me get rid of my leg hair."
But...surely I could look sexy. It couldn't be THAT hard. So I fluttered my eyelashes at Tom and tried to re-position my leg in a sexier fashion. Then I started to shave slowly as I batted my eyelashes at my husband who was starting to look a little bewildered. Then his expression turned to disgusted. What? What did I do? Was I not being sexy?
"I think you're bleeding," Tom pointed out and gestured to my ankle that now was dripping with blood.
Crap!
I've been shaving for more than ten years and I STILL manage to cut myself.
"Oh!" I said and pushed my leg under the water. I winced as it stung but I tried to make it seem like it wasn't a big deal that I had totally mutilated myself while trying to be sexy.
"You okay?" Tom still looked horrified. His nose was wrinkled but his mouth was still curved upwards with a forced smile.
"I'm...great!" I lied even though my cut hurt a little bit.
"You know...maybe I'll wait out there for you," Tom said and rushed from the bathroom.
I think he was worried that I'd gash open my other leg.
I didn't thank goodness.
When I was finished Tom and I had our moment and then we went to bed.
Fast forward a few days.
To Monday, when we went to Sea World. Before that we were still holding an overly polite facade.
But then on Monday my patience was wearing thin because I was rushing around trying to get the kids ready and Tom was just sitting on the couch watching Spongebob.
I practically ran past him as I struggled to get Natalie in her ultra adorable dress with the matching sandals and hair pretties.
"Will you be ready to leave in ten minutes?" Tom asked, his eyes still on the television screen. Spongebob was apparently having issues with tying his shoe.
"I'm not sure," I said in a strained voice. I was still clad in my pajamas with my hair sticking out all over the place on top of my head.
"I hope so," Tom said calmly. Then he stood up and I thought he might ask if I needed help but instead he strolled in the bathroom.
Five minutes went by and I realized he was having a PIP (Poop in Peace) and anger started bubbling in my stomach. Why does HE get a PIP when I'm trying to get everything ready at once? So before I knew what was happening I marched to the bathroom door and banged on it.
"If you think you're having a PIP while I get these children ready on my own then you have another thing coming. Plus, I have to get into that bathroom to do my hair and now it's going to smell like something DIED in there!" I yelled.
Tom emerged about a minute later. He tossed me a dirty look as he wordlessly handed Tommy his shoes.
"I don't know why YOU'RE upset," I fumed as I dug in my purse and made sure that I had my wallet.
"Oh, I don't know," Tom said, his voice thin. "Maybe because my WIFE is being extremely rude."
"I'm being rude?" I replied indignantly. "I'm trying to get everyone ready and you're just SITTING there not asking if I needed help--"
"If you need help then ASK for it!" Tom boomed.
So yeah. Polite phase was OVER. And Tom didn't open the door for me when we left either.
We had another mini fight on the way to Sea World because Tom didn't know exactly where to go.
"Do I get off on this exit?" Tom asked me.
"I don't know," I answered.
"How can you NOT know?" he wondered, his hands gripping the wheel.
"Erm..because I DON'T know. I asked you if you knew where to go before we left and you said yes. If you had said no then I'd have looked it up but you SAID--" I started.
"Nevermind. I'll figure it out by myself," Tom said angrily.
SeaWorld was fun at least. We eventually made it there. We got in free because Tom is in the military--FYI, all military members get in free and can get up to 4 extra tickets free.
Tom and I were too afraid to ride the Steel Eel which is this giant roller coaster that didn't look safe to me.
But Tommy, Tommy wanted to go on it. Thankfully Tom's cousin is also visiting so she offered to take him.
I'm a total wimp when it comes to rides. Plus I have ride tourettes which means I curse when I'm on the fast ones. Seriously. I'm all "Oh f--- I'm going to DIE, oh s--- this ride doesn't look SAFE!" I don't even MEAN to say it, it just comes out.
I thought Tommy might be afraid.
But no.
He strolled off the ride as if it were nothing and then shrieked, "That was AWESOME!"
My seven-year-old is braver than I am.
I have pictures but those will have to wait until I get home next Thursday.
I hope everyone is doing well. I may not be able to reply to the notes but I am reading them all!
Tomorrow we're going to a giant mall. *Dances* I'm thrilled that we'll be in an air conditioned building...
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
San Diego Here I Come
Sssshhhhh! I got up this morning at 3:30. I have tried to be quiet so I don't wake up the rest of the house. Who in God's green earth schedules a plane ride for this ungodly hour in the morning? I DO! I am one of those who likes to get there and get busy. Everything is sitting by the front door waiting for my ride to arrive in less than ten minutes. I am headed to San Diego today for the NEA=RA(National Education Assoc.=Representative Assembly). It is to quote my friend Steve-O...my big union meeting. We aren't really a union...but we are a powerful organization and there are going to be 10,000+ of us there. It is a time when we decide what needs to be done in education so that the kids get the education that they deserve. It is always an interesting convergence of people. Many states ARE union states, like Michigan. They are always pushing union based ideas...like boycott WalMart because they are non union. Alabama is a right to work state. Many of us live in rural areas where Wal-Mart is our only shopping choice without driving several miles to shop at Target. The rest of the issues deal with class sizes, teacher certification, and things like that. It won't all be work. There will be time for us to explore the great city of San Diego....so I am taking my lap top and planning to do a series of blogs on location. That should be fun! I hope you all have a great day! I hear my ride so I must sign off for now. I am B'ham bound to catch my plan! ¡Adios muchachas! See you on the flip side!
Monday, June 29, 2009
Pelham 123
I told you all that my sweetie took me to the movies the other night and we did not have much of a choice of what to see. Our little rural town has a little movie theater with three screens. I love the guys who own it...so I try and keep my business in town. They are really good about getting current hits. The last movie we went to see what UP so I felt I owed Frank a movie. The choices were narrow...Transformers 2, Drag Me To Hell, and The Taking of Pelham 123. I chose the later because I love Denzel Washington. If you like suspenseful action movies then you will love this one. The only drawback is John Travolta's language. It is horrendous. I teach high school and even I have never heard the "f" word slung around so much. The movie kept me on the edge of my seat from start to finish. When it was over I made a vow never to ride the subway again as long as I live. I loved subways until I saw this movie...and I will ride them again....I fly after seeing all the Airport movies...it just takes me awhile to get over the terror of a high-jacking and hostage taking. So, if you don't have anything better to watch I suggest you go see this movie...just remember there is a lot of foul language. John Travolta is a very scary man...it was a far cry from his roll as the momma in "Hairspray." Have a Happy Monday!
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Anyone Need A Man?
I'm hiding.
From my husband.
I'm kidding.
Sort of.
It's just...he always wants to, you know, do it.
And okay, it was fun the first few times but now I miss being able to go to bed and not having to worry about having someone paw at me.
Like last night I had to get firm with him, which I hated to do, but I was exhausted and my parent's A/C is on the fritz so it was hot and there was my husband stroking my butt.
"It's hot and I'm tired," I mumbled at him.
His hand didn't move. I think he said something like, "I'll cool you off," which makes no sense to me but a horny guy will say just about anything to get into your pants. Word to the wise.
He follows me into rooms too. Like today I was going to the bathroom to PEE and then there he was behind me. He scared the crap out of me to be honest. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised because I usually have one of my kids following me in but at that point they were being entertained by my parents so I took advantage of a kid free pee. (A KFP. Sort of like the chicken but with a P.) I was practically giddy as I headed for the toilet-- you mean I get to pee--ALONE?? and I nearly had a heart attack when I went to shut the door and Tom was right there.
"Now that we're alone..." he said coyly, wiggling his eyebrows up and down.
I mean...seriously? With the kids running around less than ten feet away? With my parents right there?
Oh, and let's not forget that I had a FULL BLADDER!
I don't like to pee in front of my husband either.
"Um," I said, racking my brain of how I could deny him politely. Because we were still somewhat in the polite stage at that point since we had been apart for awhile. If he had followed me in any other time I'd have probably told him to get the crap out of the bathroom and slammed the door in his face. But because I hadn't seen him in a little over two months I forced a smile and said, "I'd really like my privacy. I don't get it often and I could really use some."
Tom still stood there and was staring at my crotch. It was still covered but it was like he was WAITING for me to get rid of my pants or something.
"So...I'm going to need you to go..." I trailed off and tried to shove him out. But he's got nearly a hundred pounds on me so he didn't budge.
"Bye bye now," I tried again.
WHY WASN'T HE LEAVING????
"I'm not peeing in front of you," I said meekly.
"Oh, I'm not in here to watch you pee," Tom reminded me suggestively.
Geez.
Don't get me wrong, I'm flattered. But it's HOT here and I get cranky when it's hot. To have someone constantly pawing at me is not always enjoyable. It's like, dude, mind my space. It's HOT. Do you see the sweat beads above my lip? That's because I'm trying not to melt on the sidewalk.
"Tom, I really need to pee. I need you to leave," I said and pointed towards the door.
Then he tried to kiss me and at that point my bladder was UNCOMFORTABLE because it's not what it used to be after having two kids. When I need to go, I need to GO.
So I sort of HAD to push Tom out because I was worried I was going to pee all over the floor and how would I have explained that to my parents?
Mom, Dad? Sorry about the urine on the floor. My husband was trying to seduce me...
And then Tom would forever tell the story of how I totally pissed on the floor.
So I didn't have a choice on pushing him out. Of course he said sadly on the other side of the door, "You don't love me anymore," because as I said before, he can act like a total girl when he doesn't get what he wants.
When I was finished doing my business I went to get some water and he was right behind me.
"Jesus!" I shrieked.
"Hi," he said and grazed my boob.
Does anyone want to entertain Tom for a few hours? Please? Because I'm about to head off to bed and he just walked by and said something like, "You're mine tonight," and it's still hot and I'm half asleep and I already know I'm not going to get good sleep because I have to get used to sharing my bed again. And Tom is very shifty. Last night he tossed his big old man leg on top of my waist and snored in my face.
Help me!
From my husband.
I'm kidding.
Sort of.
It's just...he always wants to, you know, do it.
And okay, it was fun the first few times but now I miss being able to go to bed and not having to worry about having someone paw at me.
Like last night I had to get firm with him, which I hated to do, but I was exhausted and my parent's A/C is on the fritz so it was hot and there was my husband stroking my butt.
"It's hot and I'm tired," I mumbled at him.
His hand didn't move. I think he said something like, "I'll cool you off," which makes no sense to me but a horny guy will say just about anything to get into your pants. Word to the wise.
He follows me into rooms too. Like today I was going to the bathroom to PEE and then there he was behind me. He scared the crap out of me to be honest. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised because I usually have one of my kids following me in but at that point they were being entertained by my parents so I took advantage of a kid free pee. (A KFP. Sort of like the chicken but with a P.) I was practically giddy as I headed for the toilet-- you mean I get to pee--ALONE?? and I nearly had a heart attack when I went to shut the door and Tom was right there.
"Now that we're alone..." he said coyly, wiggling his eyebrows up and down.
I mean...seriously? With the kids running around less than ten feet away? With my parents right there?
Oh, and let's not forget that I had a FULL BLADDER!
I don't like to pee in front of my husband either.
"Um," I said, racking my brain of how I could deny him politely. Because we were still somewhat in the polite stage at that point since we had been apart for awhile. If he had followed me in any other time I'd have probably told him to get the crap out of the bathroom and slammed the door in his face. But because I hadn't seen him in a little over two months I forced a smile and said, "I'd really like my privacy. I don't get it often and I could really use some."
Tom still stood there and was staring at my crotch. It was still covered but it was like he was WAITING for me to get rid of my pants or something.
"So...I'm going to need you to go..." I trailed off and tried to shove him out. But he's got nearly a hundred pounds on me so he didn't budge.
"Bye bye now," I tried again.
WHY WASN'T HE LEAVING????
"I'm not peeing in front of you," I said meekly.
"Oh, I'm not in here to watch you pee," Tom reminded me suggestively.
Geez.
Don't get me wrong, I'm flattered. But it's HOT here and I get cranky when it's hot. To have someone constantly pawing at me is not always enjoyable. It's like, dude, mind my space. It's HOT. Do you see the sweat beads above my lip? That's because I'm trying not to melt on the sidewalk.
"Tom, I really need to pee. I need you to leave," I said and pointed towards the door.
Then he tried to kiss me and at that point my bladder was UNCOMFORTABLE because it's not what it used to be after having two kids. When I need to go, I need to GO.
So I sort of HAD to push Tom out because I was worried I was going to pee all over the floor and how would I have explained that to my parents?
Mom, Dad? Sorry about the urine on the floor. My husband was trying to seduce me...
And then Tom would forever tell the story of how I totally pissed on the floor.
So I didn't have a choice on pushing him out. Of course he said sadly on the other side of the door, "You don't love me anymore," because as I said before, he can act like a total girl when he doesn't get what he wants.
When I was finished doing my business I went to get some water and he was right behind me.
"Jesus!" I shrieked.
"Hi," he said and grazed my boob.
Does anyone want to entertain Tom for a few hours? Please? Because I'm about to head off to bed and he just walked by and said something like, "You're mine tonight," and it's still hot and I'm half asleep and I already know I'm not going to get good sleep because I have to get used to sharing my bed again. And Tom is very shifty. Last night he tossed his big old man leg on top of my waist and snored in my face.
Help me!
A Farewell Salute to My Dear Friend Claude
In this picture, taken three years ago at my Dad's 80th birthday party is one of the dearest men I know. His name is Claude Farris and he is just precious. He was my Aunt Shirley's boyfriend. Both of them have cancer. Today, my sweet Claude lost his fight with the big green monster and went home to be with his first wife and Jesus. I am thrilled that he is not going to be in pain any more....I am sad because he is leaving a huge hole in my heart. I adored this man. Several years ago...about ten I guess, Claude had everyone over to his house for a big cookout and sing along. He made sure he called me to see if I would be there. I apologized and told him how sorry I was but, I had tickets to see Garth Brooks and I could not pass that up. After that event passed every time I saw Claude he would tell me he'd been replaced by Garth...I'd argue that he hadn't...and he would play pout. It was our standard greeting. When he was diagnosed with cancer two years ago the playing subsided. Claude was in so much pain and just trying to exist...so everytime we would see each other I would assure him that I would never choose Garth over him again. He was my sweetie....and he was. I will miss Claude very much and I know a lot of other people will too. When you go to bed tonight...say a prayer for his family...and for my aunt. They will feel his absence the most. See you tomorrow for my last post before I fly out for San Diego.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
My Husband Has Graduated
Okay, so at the moment my parent's air conditioning doesn't work. And we're in Texas. Where it's been 100 degrees.
If I were in my own home I'd be tempted to walk around in the buff.
Anyhow, in my previous entry I left off at the point when my husband surprised me by being at the airport. For those who don't know he's been at military dog training school in Texas for a little over two months. I came out to watch him graduate. My parents luckily live nearby so the plan was that my Mom was just going to pick me up since Tom had class the next day.
But then there he was. Standing there in uniform with a sheepish look on his face.
I was glad to see him of course. But I was sort of hoping that I'd look, I don't know, less scary when he first saw me for the first time after two months. Because at that point after traveling by myself with two kids I looked frightening. My hair was all over the place, I smelled like airplane and I'm pretty sure I had dried crackers on my legs.
Of course I always hope for a movie reunion--you know, where the man and woman run to each other and the man scoops the woman up and twirls her around?
Instead Tom and I walked towards one another and I nearly tripped because my foot got caught on the wheel of Natalie's stroller that I was pushing. So I sort of fell into his shoulder and got a mouth full of his uniform.
"Hi," Tom said into my airplane hair.
"Hdkl," I replied because my mouth was still twisted around his arm.
Then Natalie gazed up at Tom and became shy. "Dad? Daddy?" she said timidly.
"Hi Daddy," Tommy said easily as though he hadn't been gone for so long.
I pulled away and took a good look at my husband. He looked basically the same only his face was obviously darker than before thanks to the Texas heat.
I imagine Tom took a good look at me and hopefully pretended he didn't see the smeared cracker on my knee and the knots that were in my hair.
"I drove as fast as I could to get here," Tom said. "My class just got out...oh...about fifteen minutes ago."
Well. See. I suppose that's SORT OF a movie theater reunion. I pictured him on the highway sitting in his red truck swerving around cars and shouting, "Move people! I've got to get to my WIFE!" in a dramatic voice.
"I'm glad you're here," I said and hugged him again. Because it was true. I had missed him.
My Mom came over and gave us all a hug and we headed out to her car. Tom had decided to come back with us and stay for dinner--mind you, the base is about 40 minutes away from my parent's house but he wanted to spend time with us.
So we drove over to my parent's house and Tom helped me carry my stuff into the bedroom. Then he pulled me to him and we kissed.
"I missed you," he said.
"I missed YOU," I replied.
We smiled up at each other and it would have been a poignant moment. But then Natalie rushed in and attached herself to Tom's leg.
"MY Daddy," she said and tossed me a stern look.
We had Chinese food for dinner and it was delicious. I'm a huge fan of Chinese food. Then Tom had to get back to the base because he graduated the next morning.
We all showed up for his graduation the next day. I think we were the only family members there to be honest. Mainly because it's a real quick ordeal. But I wanted to be there. I had told Tom that when his name was called that I'd be all, "WOOHOO!"
"If you do that, I want a divorce," Tom replied. I'm not sure if he was joking or not.
When we first walked into the room one of Tom's classmates took a good look at us and went, "Hey Tom. I saw your family. Hooah."
Um.
Is Hooah a good thing or a bad thing? I THINK it's a good thing. I mean, he sounded pleased. I was tempted to tap him on the shoulder and be all, "Excuse me, sir? But when you went 'hooah' was that a compliment or was that a polite way of saying that my hair is scary and that I have no business wearing shorts in public?"
I didn't ask.
When the ceremony began there was an officer who got up front and started to ramble on about America being a wonderful country and how our soldiers were fantastic people and how they took pride in their country and..
Well, to be honest, I half expected him to break out into song. He seriously was THAT passionate.
If he were in a Disney movie he'd have definately started dancing along the walls and singing about how beautiful our flag was.
Then he shouted something and all the members of the military dog training school jumped up in unison with their hands clenched tightly at their sides.
It frightened me to be honest.
Everything was so serious.
In fact, I had asked Tom what his teacher had told him when he got his certification to be a dog trainer and he was all, "My teacher told me good job and to get out of his sight."
Oh. Well.
The military sure is FRIENDLY....
I'd have wanted to be praised and such. If I were told to get out of someone's sight I think I'd cry.
Anyhow, the class member's names were called and one by one they took their award and then shook a bunch of people's hands. When Tom's name was called I really wanted to go, "WOOHOO!" but it didn't seem appropriate. Plus Tom's instructer looked a little strict and I was worried that he'd shout at me to drop down and give him twenty. So I bit my tongue.
Then there were 3 top awards. There was an award for the Block One portion of the class which was the very beginning. Some dude with really pointy ears won that.
Then there was an award for Block Two. I didn't think much of it. I mean, I know my husband is a good soldier but I guess I sort of regard him of how he is at home. Which is sort of like a slob. I know he doesn't act like that at work but in my mind he totally leaves his dirty socks on his desk and he scratches his butt in front of people.
So when his name was called for the top student in the Block Two portion my jaw dropped open.
Really?
My husband?
Well of COURSE my husband. He's a fantastic soldier, didn't you know?
It was SO HARD not to go, "Woohoo!" at that point. Instead I clapped extra hard.
I wanted Tom to turn around in his seat and flash me a thumbs up sign. But that wouldn't have been appropriate because they were still all serious up there.
There was one more award for the student with the best test scores and pointy eared guy won that one.
Oh well.
Afterwards the class had to jump up with their hands at their sides until the instructor said they were dismissed. Then they were free to go.
"At this point we should go up front and shake all the class member's hands," Mom said seriously.
Um. What?
Sometimes she forgets that she's not a Colonel anymore.
I've never shook a bunch of stranger's hands. I've told them good job but if I stuck my hand out I think I'd SCARE them.
"Go on. Shake hands," Mom hissed at me as she boldly walked up to other students and flashed her hand forward. "Good job," she said in her Colonel voice that I grew up with.
I didn't shake hands. That would have been too weird. Instead I just told them good luck as I made my way to my husband.
"Daddy!" Natalie called out. She practically leaped out of my arms and into his.
"Congrats on your award, Tom," I said and gave him a hug. No kiss because he's always paranoid about PDA when he's in uniform. I wanted to play the part of doting wife so I stuck my arm out and shook Tom's bewildered hand.
"What are you doing?" he whispered to me.
"Telling you that you did a fantastic job," I said. Then I leaned over and said softly, "You have no idea how hard it is for me not go be going woohoo and clicking my heels in excitement."
"I'm glad you restrained yourself," Tom whispered back.
So yes. My husband now has his certificate to be a military dog trainer.
This means we might be moving from the base we're currently at.
We're hoping for either Texas or Ohio. But Tom says that there is a chance that we could get Andrews AFB which is in Maryland. He could possibly have missions as security for the President if he got that one. Wouldn't it be cool if the President were giving a speech and you could see my husband in the background? I'd be all, "BLOGGERS! You see that bald man in the very back? That's my man!"
We shall see, I guess.
If I were in my own home I'd be tempted to walk around in the buff.
Anyhow, in my previous entry I left off at the point when my husband surprised me by being at the airport. For those who don't know he's been at military dog training school in Texas for a little over two months. I came out to watch him graduate. My parents luckily live nearby so the plan was that my Mom was just going to pick me up since Tom had class the next day.
But then there he was. Standing there in uniform with a sheepish look on his face.
I was glad to see him of course. But I was sort of hoping that I'd look, I don't know, less scary when he first saw me for the first time after two months. Because at that point after traveling by myself with two kids I looked frightening. My hair was all over the place, I smelled like airplane and I'm pretty sure I had dried crackers on my legs.
Of course I always hope for a movie reunion--you know, where the man and woman run to each other and the man scoops the woman up and twirls her around?
Instead Tom and I walked towards one another and I nearly tripped because my foot got caught on the wheel of Natalie's stroller that I was pushing. So I sort of fell into his shoulder and got a mouth full of his uniform.
"Hi," Tom said into my airplane hair.
"Hdkl," I replied because my mouth was still twisted around his arm.
Then Natalie gazed up at Tom and became shy. "Dad? Daddy?" she said timidly.
"Hi Daddy," Tommy said easily as though he hadn't been gone for so long.
I pulled away and took a good look at my husband. He looked basically the same only his face was obviously darker than before thanks to the Texas heat.
I imagine Tom took a good look at me and hopefully pretended he didn't see the smeared cracker on my knee and the knots that were in my hair.
"I drove as fast as I could to get here," Tom said. "My class just got out...oh...about fifteen minutes ago."
Well. See. I suppose that's SORT OF a movie theater reunion. I pictured him on the highway sitting in his red truck swerving around cars and shouting, "Move people! I've got to get to my WIFE!" in a dramatic voice.
"I'm glad you're here," I said and hugged him again. Because it was true. I had missed him.
My Mom came over and gave us all a hug and we headed out to her car. Tom had decided to come back with us and stay for dinner--mind you, the base is about 40 minutes away from my parent's house but he wanted to spend time with us.
So we drove over to my parent's house and Tom helped me carry my stuff into the bedroom. Then he pulled me to him and we kissed.
"I missed you," he said.
"I missed YOU," I replied.
We smiled up at each other and it would have been a poignant moment. But then Natalie rushed in and attached herself to Tom's leg.
"MY Daddy," she said and tossed me a stern look.
We had Chinese food for dinner and it was delicious. I'm a huge fan of Chinese food. Then Tom had to get back to the base because he graduated the next morning.
We all showed up for his graduation the next day. I think we were the only family members there to be honest. Mainly because it's a real quick ordeal. But I wanted to be there. I had told Tom that when his name was called that I'd be all, "WOOHOO!"
"If you do that, I want a divorce," Tom replied. I'm not sure if he was joking or not.
When we first walked into the room one of Tom's classmates took a good look at us and went, "Hey Tom. I saw your family. Hooah."
Um.
Is Hooah a good thing or a bad thing? I THINK it's a good thing. I mean, he sounded pleased. I was tempted to tap him on the shoulder and be all, "Excuse me, sir? But when you went 'hooah' was that a compliment or was that a polite way of saying that my hair is scary and that I have no business wearing shorts in public?"
I didn't ask.
When the ceremony began there was an officer who got up front and started to ramble on about America being a wonderful country and how our soldiers were fantastic people and how they took pride in their country and..
Well, to be honest, I half expected him to break out into song. He seriously was THAT passionate.
If he were in a Disney movie he'd have definately started dancing along the walls and singing about how beautiful our flag was.
Then he shouted something and all the members of the military dog training school jumped up in unison with their hands clenched tightly at their sides.
It frightened me to be honest.
Everything was so serious.
In fact, I had asked Tom what his teacher had told him when he got his certification to be a dog trainer and he was all, "My teacher told me good job and to get out of his sight."
Oh. Well.
The military sure is FRIENDLY....
I'd have wanted to be praised and such. If I were told to get out of someone's sight I think I'd cry.
Anyhow, the class member's names were called and one by one they took their award and then shook a bunch of people's hands. When Tom's name was called I really wanted to go, "WOOHOO!" but it didn't seem appropriate. Plus Tom's instructer looked a little strict and I was worried that he'd shout at me to drop down and give him twenty. So I bit my tongue.
Then there were 3 top awards. There was an award for the Block One portion of the class which was the very beginning. Some dude with really pointy ears won that.
Then there was an award for Block Two. I didn't think much of it. I mean, I know my husband is a good soldier but I guess I sort of regard him of how he is at home. Which is sort of like a slob. I know he doesn't act like that at work but in my mind he totally leaves his dirty socks on his desk and he scratches his butt in front of people.
So when his name was called for the top student in the Block Two portion my jaw dropped open.
Really?
My husband?
Well of COURSE my husband. He's a fantastic soldier, didn't you know?
It was SO HARD not to go, "Woohoo!" at that point. Instead I clapped extra hard.
I wanted Tom to turn around in his seat and flash me a thumbs up sign. But that wouldn't have been appropriate because they were still all serious up there.
There was one more award for the student with the best test scores and pointy eared guy won that one.
Oh well.
Afterwards the class had to jump up with their hands at their sides until the instructor said they were dismissed. Then they were free to go.
"At this point we should go up front and shake all the class member's hands," Mom said seriously.
Um. What?
Sometimes she forgets that she's not a Colonel anymore.
I've never shook a bunch of stranger's hands. I've told them good job but if I stuck my hand out I think I'd SCARE them.
"Go on. Shake hands," Mom hissed at me as she boldly walked up to other students and flashed her hand forward. "Good job," she said in her Colonel voice that I grew up with.
I didn't shake hands. That would have been too weird. Instead I just told them good luck as I made my way to my husband.
"Daddy!" Natalie called out. She practically leaped out of my arms and into his.
"Congrats on your award, Tom," I said and gave him a hug. No kiss because he's always paranoid about PDA when he's in uniform. I wanted to play the part of doting wife so I stuck my arm out and shook Tom's bewildered hand.
"What are you doing?" he whispered to me.
"Telling you that you did a fantastic job," I said. Then I leaned over and said softly, "You have no idea how hard it is for me not go be going woohoo and clicking my heels in excitement."
"I'm glad you restrained yourself," Tom whispered back.
So yes. My husband now has his certificate to be a military dog trainer.
This means we might be moving from the base we're currently at.
We're hoping for either Texas or Ohio. But Tom says that there is a chance that we could get Andrews AFB which is in Maryland. He could possibly have missions as security for the President if he got that one. Wouldn't it be cool if the President were giving a speech and you could see my husband in the background? I'd be all, "BLOGGERS! You see that bald man in the very back? That's my man!"
We shall see, I guess.
Virtual Me vs Extreme Karen Makeover
My friend Leigh over at Tales of Bloggeritaville posted about Caress body wash and offered up a free coupon so I had to go. While I was there I also entered to win a trip to NYC!....and made a virtual me. The virtual me is one hot mama. When I finish with the Extreme Karen Makeover...maybe I will look half this good. If I do...I will be one happy camper! Enjoy your weekend...and if you like Caress, are a coupon clipper, or have been wanting to try it but thought it was a bit pricy...head on over to Leigh's site and grab a coupon, make yourself a mini me....and enter the NYC contest! Good luck to you!
Trees That Would
The following story is by Bill Greer, and appears in the book Chicken Soup for the Veteran's Soul This story is one of two I am thinking of using for my invocation at the NEA RA in San Diego next week. I have to give the invocation on July 3rd and I am nervous. I did the first choice yesterday and here is the second choice for today. I would love for you to read over the two and comment and let me know which of the two speaks the most to you. I want this to be good guys. So a little help would be greatly appreciated. Honestly, I think this one is my favorite...but..."Once there were three trees on a hill in the woods. They were discussing their hopes and dreams when the first tree said, "Someday I hope to be a treasure chest. I could be filled with gold, silver and precious gems. I could be decorated with intricate carving and everyone would see the beauty."
Then the second tree said, "Someday I will be a mighty ship. I will take kings and queens across the waters and sail to the corners of the world. Everyone will feel safe in me because of the strength of my hull."
Finally the third tree said, "I want to grow to be the tallest and straightest tree in the forest. People will see me on top of the hill and look up to my branches, and think of the heavens and God and how close to them I am reaching. I will be the greatest tree of all time and people will always remember me."
After a few years of praying that their dreams would come true, a group of woodsmen came upon the trees. When one came to the first tree he said, "This looks like a strong tree, I think I should be able to sell the wood to a carpenter" ... and he began cutting it down. The tree was happy, because he knew that the carpenter would make him into a treasure chest.
At the second tree a woodsman said, "This looks like a strong tree, I should be able to sell it to the shipyard." The second tree was happy because he knew he was on his way to becoming a mighty ship.
When the woodsmen came upon the third tree, the tree was frightened because he knew that if they cut him down his dreams would not come true. One of the woodsmen said, "I don't need anything special from my tree so I'll take this one", and he cut it down.
When the first tree arrived at the carpenters, he was made into a feed box for animals. He was then placed in a barn and filled with hay. This was not at all what he had prayed for. The second tree was cut and made into a small fishing boat. His dreams of being a mighty ship and carrying kings had come to an end. The third tree was cut into large pieces and left alone in the dark. The years went by, and the trees forgot about their dreams.
Then one day, a man and woman came to the barn. She gave birth and they placed the baby in the hay in the feed box that was made from the first tree. The man wished that he could have made a crib for the baby, but this manger would have to do. The tree could feel the importance of this event and knew that it had held the greatest treasure of all time. Years later, a group of men got in the fishing boat made from the second tree. One of them was tired and went to sleep. While they were out on the water, a great storm arose and the tree didn't think it was strong enough to keep the men safe. The men woke the sleeping man, and he stood and said "Peace" and the storm stopped. At this time, the tree knew that it had carried the King of Kings in its boat.
Finally, someone came and got the third tree. It was carried through the streets as the people mocked the man who was carrying it. When they came to a stop, the man was nailed to the tree and raised in the air to die at the top of a hill. When Sunday came, the tree came to realize that it was strong enough to stand at the top of the hill and be as close to God as was possible, because Jesus had been crucified on it.
The moral of this story is that when things don't seem to be going your way, always know that God has a plan for you. If you place your trust in Him, He will give you great gifts. Each of the trees got what they wanted, just not in the way they had imagined. We don't always know what God's plans are for us. We just know that His ways are not our ways, but His ways are always best." This is a lesson I definitely need to learn. Sometimes I question the choices God makes thinking that my way would have been better. Silly girl!
Friday, June 26, 2009
Fifteen Things God Won't Ask
I have been asked to give the invocation in San Diego next week on July 3rd. I will be attending the National Education Association(NEA) Representative Assembly(RA)...or as my friend Steve calls it "The Mega Union Meeting." I am a member of the AEA (Alabama Education Association) and we are not a union. We do not belong to the AFL-CIO. We ARE a large organization that is very concerned with protecting the rights of teachers and students. So since you guys are a captive, sort of, audience I thought I would try the two I am thinking about using out on you. This is Friday's post and I will post the other on Saturday. Please comment so I can make up my mind. I need help. I want to be profound and make a powerful statement. I have never been asked to do this before...and to be honest I am nervous about it! Wish me luck. The two that I have chosen are both anonymous. No one seems to know where they came from. What a shame because they are both great!
God won’t ask what kind of car you drove, but will ask how many people you drove who didn’t have transportation.
God won’t ask the square footage of your house, but will ask how many people you welcomed into your home.
God won’t ask about the fancy clothes you had in your closet, but will ask how many of those clothes helped the needy.
God won’t ask about your social status, but will ask what kind of class you displayed.
God won’t ask how many material possessions you had, but will ask if they dictated your life.
God won’t ask what your highest salary was, but will ask if you compromised your character to obtain that salary.
God won’t ask how much overtime you worked, but will ask if you worked overtime for your family and loved ones.
God won’t ask how many promotions you received, but will ask how you promoted others.
God won’t ask what your job title was, but will ask if you reformed your job to the best of your ability.
God won’t ask what you did to help yourself, but will ask what you did to help others.
God won’t ask how many friends you had, but will ask how many people to whom you were a true friend.
God won’t ask what you did to protect your rights, but will ask what you did to protect the rights of others.
God won’t ask in what neighborhood you lived, but will ask how you treated your neighbors.
God won’t ask about the color of your skin, but will ask about the content of your character.
God won’t ask how many times your deeds matched your words, but will ask how many times they didn’t.
God won’t ask what kind of car you drove, but will ask how many people you drove who didn’t have transportation.
God won’t ask the square footage of your house, but will ask how many people you welcomed into your home.
God won’t ask about the fancy clothes you had in your closet, but will ask how many of those clothes helped the needy.
God won’t ask about your social status, but will ask what kind of class you displayed.
God won’t ask how many material possessions you had, but will ask if they dictated your life.
God won’t ask what your highest salary was, but will ask if you compromised your character to obtain that salary.
God won’t ask how much overtime you worked, but will ask if you worked overtime for your family and loved ones.
God won’t ask how many promotions you received, but will ask how you promoted others.
God won’t ask what your job title was, but will ask if you reformed your job to the best of your ability.
God won’t ask what you did to help yourself, but will ask what you did to help others.
God won’t ask how many friends you had, but will ask how many people to whom you were a true friend.
God won’t ask what you did to protect your rights, but will ask what you did to protect the rights of others.
God won’t ask in what neighborhood you lived, but will ask how you treated your neighbors.
God won’t ask about the color of your skin, but will ask about the content of your character.
God won’t ask how many times your deeds matched your words, but will ask how many times they didn’t.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Please Help Me....I Can't Take Anymore Frustration!
What a day it has been. I got up at 5:30 this morning to work on my online classwork and was really accomplishing a lot when my mom came in asking me what time WE were leaving to go have lunch with my aunt in the Valley. I looked at her and said, "I never said I was going to go with you guys for lunch. I am leaving for San Diego on Tuesday and have to get two weeks of work done before I go." She was oblivious to my comment and pressed on. I got frustrated and finally did what she knew I would do...gave in and told her, "Fine! I will go....only we can't leave til I get this particular assignment done." She was thrilled....I knew she would be...I on the other hand was now frustrated, aggrivated, and all the other -ated words and trying to work on my project. Six times during the next hour she returned to my little sanctuary I call an office to ask what time we were going, when would I be finished...anything to just drive me up the wall...and finally she achieved her goal...I was at the top of the wall....so I said, "Mom, can you just go away and leave me alone so I can concentrate and get my work done." She left the room...and went to tell my dad I was being hateful. I felt the anger rise higher as I got up and went to the kitchen to explain to both of them that this was an important class, I could lose my license without enough continuing ed hours, it was for fifty hours, and I had to get two weeks worth of work done before I left on Tuesday morning. She laughed....and the sound was like pouring salt in an open wound. I reteated to the office and knocked out my paper...on communication(of which there was none with my mom)...changed shoes and told them it was time to go. She was as giddy as a school girl....now for those of you who have not read my past blogs...you need to be aware. I am not a heartless "B"...my mom has dementia/alzheimers. We left and drove to my aunts. I kept the radio on so I could adjust my mood before we picked up my aunt. The place we were going to was called Chick's Cafe...and it was buffet. Oh joys....many of you know I am doing an Extreme Karen Makeover and the thought of a buffet made me sick. My aunt, Shirley was delighted that I was going....my mom had said it was her idea in the first place...it wasn't. She was surprised that I was along. We went into the restaurant...and to my delight....I could eat a vegetable meal...hallelujah. I was so excited! The conversation with my aunt was good and I loved seeing my father eat as well as he did. My aunt, also a cancer patient...ate well too. My mood lightened a bit. We returned to my aunts and then headed home. I was so excited because I had so much work to do today....BUT...work was not to be done...just yet. My sneaky mom....wanted to take the scenic way home...and she spoke through my dad....she would get him to ask me....and I can't tell my dad no. I would do anything for him...especially right now. He looks like a troll doll with his little tuft of hair in the center of his head....he lost his hair during chemo/radiation. I have almost lost my dad a couple of times in the last year....so telling him no...is not an option. We ended up going home through BFE. It took 2 hours to make an hour trip home and by the time we got here...I was frustrated again. Sigh! After getting home I got back in my car went and picked up stuff for my booth at Longleafs Antique Mall, went and unloaded it and put the stuff out for display. The booth is very full now and very inviting. There is something for everyone I think. All the booth work took an hour and then I returned home. My parents are gone...who knows where....but that is another story for another day! Frank came home and is taking his princess (me) out tonight....dinner and movie. Whew...at least the frustrations are over....for now at least.
The Trip to Texas..
Well, I made it.
I'm here in Texas and I'm trying not to melt.
Obviously I knew it was hot here. But holy heck it is HOT. I came from Wyoming where it was just getting into the 80s. I am now in a state where it is 100 degrees.
My body is confused. It's all "WTF?"
But let me back up a bit. We took a shuttle to the airport that reeked of cigarette smoke. When we got to the airport my husband Tom texted me and asked what time my flight arrived.
See, I wasn't planning on really seeing Tom until the next day. Mainly because he's about 40 minutes from my parents house and he had to wake up early the next morning for his class graduation. So it just made sense for him to stay on the base. Plus he could save on gas, which his truck totally guzzles down.
I didn't think much of it when I called Tom back with my flight information. I just thought he was curious on when I'd get to Texas.
Anyhow, we managed to get through security and found our gate. We found a seat and this is when the fun began. Natalie didn't want to sit. She wanted to run around and play. I said no. She screamed. So it was no wonder why we had an entire row of chairs to ourselves--no one wanted to brave a risk of going deaf thanks to my daughter. There was a woman who sat down for all of five minutes but then Natalie screeched because one of her crayons broke--the woman immediately got up after that.
"I'm sorry," I told her. "She's two."
Finally it was time to board the plane. We got our seats and Natalie took great offense over the seat belt. I have no idea why. The second I buckled it she threw a fit and I firmly told her it was staying on. As I was struggling with her I felt eyes on me and realized this old woman sitting across the aisle was watching us intently. It was like we were her own personal entertainment. Like I'd tell Natalie that she WAS going to wear a seatbelt and Natalie would go, "NO!" and the lady would suck in her breath as though she were watching a soap opera or something. Then when I finally got Natalie to wear her seatbelt (it took 2 chocolates) the lady muttered, "It's on! It's on!"
Yeah. Seriously weird.
And she watched us most of the time. When the plane took off the lady eyed us and whispered, "Kids don't mind takeoff."
Then I put on a DVD for the kids and they mercifully got quiet. I was able to take out my magazine and read all about Sandra Bullock and how she met Jesse James. I swear the lady was trying to read over my shoulder. I heard her say, "Sandra Bullock was funny in Miss Congeniality." I'm not sure if I was supposed to respond or not.
I got to an article on orgasms and practically shoved the magazine against my nose so the lady wouldn't see. I didn't even WANT to know her comment on that one.
When we were about to land I had to put Natalie's seatbelt on again because she had wiggled out of it in flight. She took offense again and I swear the lady rubbed her hands in anticipation and mumbled, "Here we go."
Natalie threw a mini fit and the flight attendant came by and went, "That needs to be on."
"No crap!" I snapped and I swear I usually don't speak to people like that but at that point I had been fighting with her for about five minutes and my brow was sweaty and my mouth was dry because I was thirsty and I was nervous that we were going to crash because the plane started lurching funny.
The flight attendant who was in her early twenties and looked as though she were starved--she was TINY--shot me an evil look before flouncing off down the aisle.
I got Natalie's seat belt on by telling her that Brobee from Yo Gabba Gabba was VERY angry and she stopped crying and allowed me to buckle her in.
"What's a Brobee?" creepy staring lady said softly.
Seriously. Was I supposed to talk to her?
I figured I should say something so I went, "Brobee is a character from Yo Gabba Gabba.." and the lady tossed me a bewildered look as though she wanted to say, "Why is she TALKING to me?"
Okay then. I needed OFF the plane. The lady officially had made me nervous.
But first we had to land and I swear, it didn't seem like it was a graceful land because we just DROPPED a few times and my stomach leaped out of my chest and I was gripping the armrests in fear. My kids weren't scared though. They kept going, "Weeee!" and I was thinking, "I should have ordered the jack and coke when beverages were rolling around.." Because seriously, I debated it but I was worried the flight attendant would shoot me a dirty look for drinking spirits in front of the children. So I just got a ginger ale.
Finally we touched down and I was tempted to kiss the ground. I didn't though. You know, germs and all. Oh, and people would probably think I was insane.
We headed towards the exit and rounded the corner and we spotted my Mom...
...with Tom!
TOM!
Could it be that my husband actually DOES have a romantic bone in his body?
(To be continued tomorrow. Don't have as much time on the computer here.)
I'm here in Texas and I'm trying not to melt.
Obviously I knew it was hot here. But holy heck it is HOT. I came from Wyoming where it was just getting into the 80s. I am now in a state where it is 100 degrees.
My body is confused. It's all "WTF?"
But let me back up a bit. We took a shuttle to the airport that reeked of cigarette smoke. When we got to the airport my husband Tom texted me and asked what time my flight arrived.
See, I wasn't planning on really seeing Tom until the next day. Mainly because he's about 40 minutes from my parents house and he had to wake up early the next morning for his class graduation. So it just made sense for him to stay on the base. Plus he could save on gas, which his truck totally guzzles down.
I didn't think much of it when I called Tom back with my flight information. I just thought he was curious on when I'd get to Texas.
Anyhow, we managed to get through security and found our gate. We found a seat and this is when the fun began. Natalie didn't want to sit. She wanted to run around and play. I said no. She screamed. So it was no wonder why we had an entire row of chairs to ourselves--no one wanted to brave a risk of going deaf thanks to my daughter. There was a woman who sat down for all of five minutes but then Natalie screeched because one of her crayons broke--the woman immediately got up after that.
"I'm sorry," I told her. "She's two."
Finally it was time to board the plane. We got our seats and Natalie took great offense over the seat belt. I have no idea why. The second I buckled it she threw a fit and I firmly told her it was staying on. As I was struggling with her I felt eyes on me and realized this old woman sitting across the aisle was watching us intently. It was like we were her own personal entertainment. Like I'd tell Natalie that she WAS going to wear a seatbelt and Natalie would go, "NO!" and the lady would suck in her breath as though she were watching a soap opera or something. Then when I finally got Natalie to wear her seatbelt (it took 2 chocolates) the lady muttered, "It's on! It's on!"
Yeah. Seriously weird.
And she watched us most of the time. When the plane took off the lady eyed us and whispered, "Kids don't mind takeoff."
Then I put on a DVD for the kids and they mercifully got quiet. I was able to take out my magazine and read all about Sandra Bullock and how she met Jesse James. I swear the lady was trying to read over my shoulder. I heard her say, "Sandra Bullock was funny in Miss Congeniality." I'm not sure if I was supposed to respond or not.
I got to an article on orgasms and practically shoved the magazine against my nose so the lady wouldn't see. I didn't even WANT to know her comment on that one.
When we were about to land I had to put Natalie's seatbelt on again because she had wiggled out of it in flight. She took offense again and I swear the lady rubbed her hands in anticipation and mumbled, "Here we go."
Natalie threw a mini fit and the flight attendant came by and went, "That needs to be on."
"No crap!" I snapped and I swear I usually don't speak to people like that but at that point I had been fighting with her for about five minutes and my brow was sweaty and my mouth was dry because I was thirsty and I was nervous that we were going to crash because the plane started lurching funny.
The flight attendant who was in her early twenties and looked as though she were starved--she was TINY--shot me an evil look before flouncing off down the aisle.
I got Natalie's seat belt on by telling her that Brobee from Yo Gabba Gabba was VERY angry and she stopped crying and allowed me to buckle her in.
"What's a Brobee?" creepy staring lady said softly.
Seriously. Was I supposed to talk to her?
I figured I should say something so I went, "Brobee is a character from Yo Gabba Gabba.." and the lady tossed me a bewildered look as though she wanted to say, "Why is she TALKING to me?"
Okay then. I needed OFF the plane. The lady officially had made me nervous.
But first we had to land and I swear, it didn't seem like it was a graceful land because we just DROPPED a few times and my stomach leaped out of my chest and I was gripping the armrests in fear. My kids weren't scared though. They kept going, "Weeee!" and I was thinking, "I should have ordered the jack and coke when beverages were rolling around.." Because seriously, I debated it but I was worried the flight attendant would shoot me a dirty look for drinking spirits in front of the children. So I just got a ginger ale.
Finally we touched down and I was tempted to kiss the ground. I didn't though. You know, germs and all. Oh, and people would probably think I was insane.
We headed towards the exit and rounded the corner and we spotted my Mom...
...with Tom!
TOM!
Could it be that my husband actually DOES have a romantic bone in his body?
(To be continued tomorrow. Don't have as much time on the computer here.)
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Have You Ever Eaten at Jason's Deli?
Wow! I have you ever eaten at this place? Well, today my parents and I took Kat out to lunch for her birthday and she wanted to go to Jason's Deli. I had never eaten there....so I was very agreeable. I love deli food. I grew up with a fabulous Jewish deli nearby...and pastromi on rye...with swiss cheese and spicy mustard...and of course a pickle spear rings my chimes. Of course, I know...I can't have that...because I am watching my calories...and with that sandwich...I would eat all my calories in one meal. We got there...and I had cup of tomato basil soup with a fruit plate that had some of the best looking strawberries and pineapple on it. I ate most of my lunch...but not all and sent the rest of the fruit home with Kat to enjoy later. My dad had a New York Yankee (my dream sandwich)...it is made of hot pastrami and corned beef with swiss cheese and spicy mustard on rye bread. My mom had a stuffed potatoe with broccoli, bacon and cheese. It was huge! I have never seen a potato that large in my life. Kat had a southwestern style soup that looked wonderful and a fruit plate too. After lunch we went back to her house and she opened her presents. My mom got her the traditional pajamas...she expects to get them and is disappointed if she doesn't. I gave her a passport holder she had been eyeing....and Itunes card...we both have Ipods....AND a new journal. She was thrilled. Brian had come through on Tuesday with a Wii fit(now we both have one), a Spa treatment day (lucky girl), and a new CD she had been wanting. She had some great other gifts too. It was a great day....but...if you are ever in Montgomery...or near a Jason's Deli...and you like deli food...this place is a must!
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Happy Birthday Munchkin!
Today, June 23rd is my daughters 29th birthday. I called her after she got off from work and sang the Birthday Song to her...it is a tradition. Her sweet husband, Brian, took off today and is spending the day with her....treating her special....so I am going to take her to lunch tomorrow. I am going to take my parents....so there is an added element of tension but I can't go and not tell them where I am really going. I can only go to so many conferences....sigh! Kathryn was born at 5:59 p.m. She was the cutest little red headed thing you have ever seen. From the moment I held her in my arms I was totally and unashamedly in love with her. She has held my heart from that moment on. Her smile lights up a room. Her spirituality is electrifying. She is an awesome person...even if she is mine! If she weren't my daughter I would still want to be part of her life...she is just that kind of person. You would adore her...I know you would. So..Happy Birthday Munchkin...you were the best gift I have ever received! Have a Happy Day!
I'm Texas Bound
I fly to Texas tomorrow.
I’m nervous.
I hate to fly.
I hate to pack.
Tom called me when I was in the middle of packing. I was surrounded by clothes and snack foods to take on the plane and various entertainment items to whip out if the kids lose their minds.
“You ready?” he asked.
I stared at the mess that circled me. “Erm...kind of...” I lied.
“Remember, you don’t need much,” Tom reminded me.
Poor confused Tom. What’s this business about NOT NEEDING MUCH? I tapped my chin as I gazed at different outfits for Natalie. Of course I had to bring the cutest clothes to show her off in.
“I just need to find a way to fit Natalie’s zoo outfit...” I muttered. I didn’t mean for Tom to overhear but he did.
“Excuse me? Did you just say a ZOO outfit?” he said incredulously.
Crap.
“You know,” I said casually. “The outfit she’s going to wear for the zoo. It’s a giraffe print skirt with a monkey top.”
Is that not normal? Don’t people put their kids in clothes in accordance to where they are going?
I guess it’s not normal. Because Tom went, “Amber. Natalie doesn’t NEED a zoo outfit. She can wear anything. No one will care.”
Okay fine, so no one will care. But I like putting them in cute outfits. It’s a sickness. Some women are obsessed with shoes. Some women go crazy in Sephora. I go crazy for clothes for my children.
“The zoo outfit is coming,” I said stubbornly. I managed to shove it into the bag.
Did I mention that when my Mom was visiting that she took a suitcase of clothes for us back with her so I wouldn’t have to worry about checking anything in? I think I put 5 outfits each for us in there. Tom claims that this is enough and that we can just re-wash the outfits when we run out since we’re staying for two weeks.
“WHAT?” I shrieked when he mentioned this.
My poor husband is deranged. Re-wash only FIVE outfits? No way.
I poked around at the stuff in front of me. I needed to get rid of some of it.
“Do you care if I smell like a peach?” I asked Tom as I fingered my lotion.
“HUH?” Tom boomed.
It really is fun confusing my husband on a daily basis. I took that as a no and threw the lotion across the room.
Okay. One thing down….about twenty more to go…
“I’m not bringing my sexy underwear,” I told Tom as I touched the black lacy material.
“Why?” Tom wondered, crestfallen. He always makes fun of the cotton underwear that I usually have on.
“Um because Tom, I’m not going to be standing there in the security line as they go through my luggage and look at me as though I’m a complete hussy when thongs show up on their screen,” I explained.
“At this point Amber, I really don’t care what you wear,” Tom said bluntly. He’s seriously been behaving like a horny teenager these past few weeks.
To be perfect honest, I’m more excited about going out without the kids. Mom is going to take them overnight on Friday so Tom and I can spend time together. His Mom and two other family members are coming down so we’ll be going on the Riverwalk and eating a nice meal—do you know how thrilling it is to not have to cut up someone else’s meat? To be able to dive into your food RIGHT WHEN IT ARRIVES?
“Aren’t you excited about going out with the kids?” I keep saying to Tom.
“I’m more excited about getting into your pants,” Tom always answers.
If he had his way we’d just stay in the hotel room the entire time.
Of course I miss Tom IN THAT WAY….but after been stuck with two children who climb all over you and basically make a gigantic mess on a daily basis, I’m not really in a sexual mood.
I just want to get OUT.
“Are you excited about going to the Riverwalk?” I asked Tom as I tried to shove a bunch of things in my backpack.
“You know what I’m excited about,” Tom replied in a suggestive manner.
Oh for---geez.
“Well, I’m excited about going to the Riverwalk without the kids. I don’t have to worry about one of them jumping into the river,” I said as I struggled to zip the backpack.
“But don’t you miss....us?” Tom said in a sad voice. I’m sorry, but sometimes my husband acts like a total GIRL. What he wanted me to say was, “Yes Tom. All I want to do is bow chicka bow bow all night long. To hell with Riverwalk and enjoying a meal in peace and seeing a movie afterwards.” But I’m not going to say this. Because I need to get out. My sanity depends on it.
The good news is, I finally managed to get everything to fit in my bag. Of course my backpack probably weighs like 20 pounds but you know, I could use the exercise. I can pretend like I’m on some mountain expedition or something.
I should still be able to blog while I’m there. I’m bringing Pepto, my pink laptop. Oh my God. PEPTO. I nearly forgot Pepto. Thank goodness I thought about it.
Okay, don’t panic, but I have no room left. Where or where is Pepto going to GO? I wonder if I can stuff her in my son’s backpack? Hrm…surely he doesn’t need ALL those Transformers…
*Five minutes later*
Okay, apparently my son DOES need all those Transformers. I asked if he could hold my laptop and take out a few because one boy does NOT need 3 different versions of Bumblebee but he was all, “MOMMY! I NEED those!”
I need to go figure this out now.
Wish me luck.
I’m nervous.
I hate to fly.
I hate to pack.
Tom called me when I was in the middle of packing. I was surrounded by clothes and snack foods to take on the plane and various entertainment items to whip out if the kids lose their minds.
“You ready?” he asked.
I stared at the mess that circled me. “Erm...kind of...” I lied.
“Remember, you don’t need much,” Tom reminded me.
Poor confused Tom. What’s this business about NOT NEEDING MUCH? I tapped my chin as I gazed at different outfits for Natalie. Of course I had to bring the cutest clothes to show her off in.
“I just need to find a way to fit Natalie’s zoo outfit...” I muttered. I didn’t mean for Tom to overhear but he did.
“Excuse me? Did you just say a ZOO outfit?” he said incredulously.
Crap.
“You know,” I said casually. “The outfit she’s going to wear for the zoo. It’s a giraffe print skirt with a monkey top.”
Is that not normal? Don’t people put their kids in clothes in accordance to where they are going?
I guess it’s not normal. Because Tom went, “Amber. Natalie doesn’t NEED a zoo outfit. She can wear anything. No one will care.”
Okay fine, so no one will care. But I like putting them in cute outfits. It’s a sickness. Some women are obsessed with shoes. Some women go crazy in Sephora. I go crazy for clothes for my children.
“The zoo outfit is coming,” I said stubbornly. I managed to shove it into the bag.
Did I mention that when my Mom was visiting that she took a suitcase of clothes for us back with her so I wouldn’t have to worry about checking anything in? I think I put 5 outfits each for us in there. Tom claims that this is enough and that we can just re-wash the outfits when we run out since we’re staying for two weeks.
“WHAT?” I shrieked when he mentioned this.
My poor husband is deranged. Re-wash only FIVE outfits? No way.
I poked around at the stuff in front of me. I needed to get rid of some of it.
“Do you care if I smell like a peach?” I asked Tom as I fingered my lotion.
“HUH?” Tom boomed.
It really is fun confusing my husband on a daily basis. I took that as a no and threw the lotion across the room.
Okay. One thing down….about twenty more to go…
“I’m not bringing my sexy underwear,” I told Tom as I touched the black lacy material.
“Why?” Tom wondered, crestfallen. He always makes fun of the cotton underwear that I usually have on.
“Um because Tom, I’m not going to be standing there in the security line as they go through my luggage and look at me as though I’m a complete hussy when thongs show up on their screen,” I explained.
“At this point Amber, I really don’t care what you wear,” Tom said bluntly. He’s seriously been behaving like a horny teenager these past few weeks.
To be perfect honest, I’m more excited about going out without the kids. Mom is going to take them overnight on Friday so Tom and I can spend time together. His Mom and two other family members are coming down so we’ll be going on the Riverwalk and eating a nice meal—do you know how thrilling it is to not have to cut up someone else’s meat? To be able to dive into your food RIGHT WHEN IT ARRIVES?
“Aren’t you excited about going out with the kids?” I keep saying to Tom.
“I’m more excited about getting into your pants,” Tom always answers.
If he had his way we’d just stay in the hotel room the entire time.
Of course I miss Tom IN THAT WAY….but after been stuck with two children who climb all over you and basically make a gigantic mess on a daily basis, I’m not really in a sexual mood.
I just want to get OUT.
“Are you excited about going to the Riverwalk?” I asked Tom as I tried to shove a bunch of things in my backpack.
“You know what I’m excited about,” Tom replied in a suggestive manner.
Oh for---geez.
“Well, I’m excited about going to the Riverwalk without the kids. I don’t have to worry about one of them jumping into the river,” I said as I struggled to zip the backpack.
“But don’t you miss....us?” Tom said in a sad voice. I’m sorry, but sometimes my husband acts like a total GIRL. What he wanted me to say was, “Yes Tom. All I want to do is bow chicka bow bow all night long. To hell with Riverwalk and enjoying a meal in peace and seeing a movie afterwards.” But I’m not going to say this. Because I need to get out. My sanity depends on it.
The good news is, I finally managed to get everything to fit in my bag. Of course my backpack probably weighs like 20 pounds but you know, I could use the exercise. I can pretend like I’m on some mountain expedition or something.
I should still be able to blog while I’m there. I’m bringing Pepto, my pink laptop. Oh my God. PEPTO. I nearly forgot Pepto. Thank goodness I thought about it.
Okay, don’t panic, but I have no room left. Where or where is Pepto going to GO? I wonder if I can stuff her in my son’s backpack? Hrm…surely he doesn’t need ALL those Transformers…
*Five minutes later*
Okay, apparently my son DOES need all those Transformers. I asked if he could hold my laptop and take out a few because one boy does NOT need 3 different versions of Bumblebee but he was all, “MOMMY! I NEED those!”
I need to go figure this out now.
Wish me luck.
Leaving on a Jet Plane
It is just a few minutes after four in the morning. I am sitting here wondering if I slept at all. I remember 12:30, 1:45, 3:29...but I feel rested....right now. I am up so early to take my friend Mary to the airport in Birmingham. She has to be there at 6a.m. Her busband, Bill, could have taken her...but he has to be at work at 7:30 and that is really cutting it close. I, on the other hand, do not have to be anywhere this morning so I volunteered. Am I crazy or what? Mary is flying to Bangor this morning. She will meet her brother Troy in Detroit and they will fly the rest of the way together. They are going to see their sister Noel. She and her husband Jerry live in Bangor in the cutest house...right near town. It is a walk away. Did you know that Stephen King also lives in Bangor? He lives about 2 blocks from Noels. His house looks like the Adams Family house. It is a bit scary...even in the daytime. No wonder the man writes such quirky books. Anyways, Mary, Troy and Noel are having a sibling reunion. This is something they have not done in a while. She is so excited to be going. I am excited for her because I went with her one year and this trip is fabulous in the fall. If you have never been to the Northeast in the height of fall foliage at it's best...you should go! It is aweseom. Well, this time next week I will have already left for the airport. My flight LEAVES at 6:45. I have to be there no later than 5:30. I am flying out with some AEA (Alabama Education Assoc. buddies) and we are San Diego bound for the NEA (National Education Assoc.) yearly assembly. My friend Steve-O likes to call it my big union meeting. I wonder who schedules these red eye flights anyways. I DO! On the flying there side I like to get there in time to check in and explore. On the flying home side I like to leave as late as I can and get home as late as I can. Have a Happy Tuesday. I am off!
Monday, June 22, 2009
Unexpected Chocolate
First of all, thank you for the birthday wishes.
I had a good birthday.
For starters, when I woke up I noticed there was a blimp in the sky and got all excited.
How romantic! Tom paid for a blimp to pass by the house with a birthday message!
Have I mentioned that my mind isn't all there when I first wake up?
Obviously it wasn't a romantic blimp. It was just a military blimp I guess.
Still, I was determined to have a good birthday.
When the kids started fighting I calmly said, "You can't fight. It's my birthday."
There was a knock on the door at around 11. My heart swelled at first.
Maybe it IS a romantic blimp after all!
I opened the door and there was a woman in a FedEx uniform holding a box.
Okay. So no romantic blimp--but a package! I'd settle for a package. I love getting mail.
I noticed that the package was wrapped with tape that said Godiva.
CHOCOLATE!
"CHOCOLATE!" I screeched and made the poor woman jump. Her eyes widened and she looked at me as though I had just told her that I wasn't wearing any panties. I took the box and thanked her and she rushed off in fear.
Oops.
But I couldn't help it. Chocolate excites me.
I immediately opened the package when I got inside. I wasn't sure who it was from. My husband? No, my husband isn't romantic. His idea of romance is letting me turn off his beloved military channel. Was it from my best friend Jennifer? She used to work at Godiva and maybe she still had connections....but...Jennifer already gave me a $25 gift card to Gymboree and she's not exactly swimming in money.
So...
Maybe I had a secret admirer. Yes! Oh my God, what if John Krasinski or Michael Phelps stumbled onto my blog and became enamored by me and sent me a box full of chocolate as a birthday gift?
How SWEET!
I searched the box for a card:
..and I found it wedged under the box of truffles. TRUFFLES!
Okay, so it was from my parents. But still. How nice of them! It was totally unexpected.
Look what I got! I immediately opened the truffles and ate three of them.
"Can I have one?" Tommy asked.
"Er...these chocolates are for adults only," I lied. I gave him a Hershey's Kiss instead. He looked a little annoyed with me but hello, these are Godiva truffles. They are not to be wasted on children.
I ended up eating most of the chocolates in about two hours. I couldn't help myself. I'd eat one and say, "Okay, this is enough, I need to make them last.." but then a few minutes later I'd be back hovering over the box and I'd be all, "It's my birthday...if I want another truffle then I'm going to have another truffle!"
I decided to order pizza for dinner because it's against the law to cook on your birthday. I was a little full from consuming all that chocolate but there is always room for pizza. Especially pizza from Papa Johns:
And I thought, you know, it's my birthday and there are no such things as calories on my birthday so I might as well order cheesesticks too:
I am in love with Papa John's garlic butter sauce. I think it's supposed to be for the crust but I dip the entire pizza in it.
If you thought I'd be full from that, well, you're mistaken.
Because then it was time for cake.
Yum.
After the kids went to bed my house looked like this:
This is because I refused to clean on my birthday.
Because cleaning is forbidden on your birthday too. Didn't you know?
I had a good birthday.
For starters, when I woke up I noticed there was a blimp in the sky and got all excited.
How romantic! Tom paid for a blimp to pass by the house with a birthday message!
Have I mentioned that my mind isn't all there when I first wake up?
Obviously it wasn't a romantic blimp. It was just a military blimp I guess.
Still, I was determined to have a good birthday.
When the kids started fighting I calmly said, "You can't fight. It's my birthday."
There was a knock on the door at around 11. My heart swelled at first.
Maybe it IS a romantic blimp after all!
I opened the door and there was a woman in a FedEx uniform holding a box.
Okay. So no romantic blimp--but a package! I'd settle for a package. I love getting mail.
I noticed that the package was wrapped with tape that said Godiva.
CHOCOLATE!
"CHOCOLATE!" I screeched and made the poor woman jump. Her eyes widened and she looked at me as though I had just told her that I wasn't wearing any panties. I took the box and thanked her and she rushed off in fear.
Oops.
But I couldn't help it. Chocolate excites me.
I immediately opened the package when I got inside. I wasn't sure who it was from. My husband? No, my husband isn't romantic. His idea of romance is letting me turn off his beloved military channel. Was it from my best friend Jennifer? She used to work at Godiva and maybe she still had connections....but...Jennifer already gave me a $25 gift card to Gymboree and she's not exactly swimming in money.
So...
Maybe I had a secret admirer. Yes! Oh my God, what if John Krasinski or Michael Phelps stumbled onto my blog and became enamored by me and sent me a box full of chocolate as a birthday gift?
How SWEET!
I searched the box for a card:
..and I found it wedged under the box of truffles. TRUFFLES!
Okay, so it was from my parents. But still. How nice of them! It was totally unexpected.
Look what I got! I immediately opened the truffles and ate three of them.
"Can I have one?" Tommy asked.
"Er...these chocolates are for adults only," I lied. I gave him a Hershey's Kiss instead. He looked a little annoyed with me but hello, these are Godiva truffles. They are not to be wasted on children.
I ended up eating most of the chocolates in about two hours. I couldn't help myself. I'd eat one and say, "Okay, this is enough, I need to make them last.." but then a few minutes later I'd be back hovering over the box and I'd be all, "It's my birthday...if I want another truffle then I'm going to have another truffle!"
I decided to order pizza for dinner because it's against the law to cook on your birthday. I was a little full from consuming all that chocolate but there is always room for pizza. Especially pizza from Papa Johns:
And I thought, you know, it's my birthday and there are no such things as calories on my birthday so I might as well order cheesesticks too:
I am in love with Papa John's garlic butter sauce. I think it's supposed to be for the crust but I dip the entire pizza in it.
If you thought I'd be full from that, well, you're mistaken.
Because then it was time for cake.
Yum.
After the kids went to bed my house looked like this:
This is because I refused to clean on my birthday.
Because cleaning is forbidden on your birthday too. Didn't you know?
Come Monday It'll Be Alright.....
Leigh at Bloggeritaville let me know last night that there would be an award for me over at her blog today and I could hardly wait til the morning to go see it! Leigh's friend Sherrie said, "this is how the award works: This award is bestowed on to blogs that are exceedingly charming. These kind bloggers aim to find and be friends. They are not interested in self-aggrandizement. Our hope is that when the ribbons of these prizes are cut, even more friendships are propagated. Please give more attention to these writers. Deliver this award to eight bloggers who must choose eight more and include this cleverly-written text into the body of their award." How truly kind. I am so appreciative at such a gesture. The award also ask that I tell 7 "random" Things about me. I am sure that there aren't many sins I haven't already confessed on my blog but here goes:1. I was a grand prize winner on a television game show several years ago. The show was Top Card and it was on The Nashville Network. I blew it all by not freezing and not being able to answer the question which cartoon character answers the question, "Where are you?" I hate Scoobie Doo to this day!
2.I equate singing with breathing and can't imagine life without either.
3. I have been to 47 of the 50 United States and am currently missing Alaska, Michigan, and Vermont.
4. I love good storytelling. I love to be in the presence of a really good storyteller - like Kathryn Windham Tucker - I believe in ghosts and spirits so she delights me and I have heard her several times.
5. I grew up on the Atlantic Coast but now think there is nothing lovelier than the Gulf area beaches from Florida to Alabama.
6. I adore thrift stores, yard sales, and auctions. I don't necessarily have to buy. I just love the hunt of a bargain!
7.I am a preachers wife and can fill a pulpit myself as a certified lay speaker for the United Methodist church.
And now for the awards. I can honestly say that almost each and every one of these ladies below I am in contact with daily in some form or fashion. I look forward to their comments on my blog and I love reading and commenting on their posts. I feel as though I have known them for a long time and a few of them I have known forever. I work with some of them, blog with some of them and enjoy their presence in my life each day. I have been truly blessed to know each of them and have been encouraged by them many times throughout the sickness of my father and dealing with aging parents. Their comments have been what has gotten me through many trying days. I am blessed to call them my friends and I am certain that you will feel the same way when you meet them. Please stop by and visit their blogs and let them know I sent you. My 8 folks that get this award are:
1. Trina - we have worked together for a long time.
2. Jeannie
3. Joy
4. Anissa
5. Amy
6. Sweet Tea
7. Xazmin
8. Trina of the Perry Family
Congrats to all the award winners. Have a great week and stop by and visit when you have a moment. I might even have a tall glass of ice tea waiting for you with your name on it!
African Thunderstorm for Monday Musical
This is the most awesome group I have ever heard and had to share it with you. You need your sound turned up for the first minute and a half to experience the thunderstorm at it's finest. The group is from Slovenia and known as Perpetuum Jazzile. They are absolutely amazing and I hope you enjoy this video today! Happy Monday!
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Happy Fathers Day
Today is Father's Day and I have two special men in my life that I love dearly. The first one is my father. As you can see he was quite a handsome man when he was in the Navy. He has lost most of his hair right now due to chemotherapy, and he is slower to speak and his memory is not as sharp as it once was but he is still just as handsome as he was then...at least to me. I wanted to marry him when I grew up. 
The second man in my life is my darling husband Frank. He is not the father of my daughter, Kat, but he loves her like one and I think she would agree that the feeling is mutual. He is a loving father to his Amy and is proud of both of HIS girls. He is an exceptional guy too. He is funny, loving, helps me take care of my parents, allows them to live with us....did I say he helps me take care of my parents and still loves me?, he is kind, always right (at least in his mind), and just an all around great guy. I am blessed to have two such incredible men on my life's journey. Today is their day and I want to let them both know that I adore them. Happy Father's Day to my guys and Happy Father's Day to the rest of the Dad's out there. God Bless You All Real Good!
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Uncle Billy
It is late and I am tired and sad. As much as I talk about Still Magnolias most of you know that my cousin Amanda and I sing and write songs together. Years ago we wrote a song called Grandpa's Music that is on our CD. Anyways, the song is about growing up at my grandfathers where music was the pulse of the house. The Avondale mill whistle would blow and my grandfather and his buddy's would get together in his living room and play music until late into the night. As kids we were not allowed to stay up and be part of this excitement...but we would get our pallet, do you remember those things?...you know...kids used to sleep on the floor, and drag it just as close to the door of the living room as we could get it without being seen. It usually worked and we would fall asleep listening to gospel, blue grass, folk ballads, country music, all the great crooners of the time period. It was heavenly. When we were big enough to play a whole song, that had at least four chords, all by ourselves on the guitar we were allowed to play with the big boys. Well...today is a sad day in my little world. The last remaining member of the player/singers of the mill group died this evening. He was known to most of the town as Uncle Billy. He worked for years at the A and P and managed a pack a sack on Hwy 280 at the top of the river bridge hill. Everyone loved him...especially me. He was a dear sweet man....and the cool thing is that he was actually related to me...as a cousin. He was just my mom's age...so we always called him Uncle Billy. He was one in a million and he will be sorely missed by this town, by his family and friends, by the music world. God Bless his precious wife Liz, his daughter Sherry and his grandsons and great grandchildren. His death will live a huge void in their lives. When you go to bed tonight...lift up a prayer for his family. God Bless You All Real Good Tonight! K
Friday, June 19, 2009
Birthday Shopping
It’s my birthday.
So I went shopping.
I decided to head to Barnes and Noble first. I think I could spend an entire day in Barnes and Noble. When I walked through the doors I breathed in that familiar coffee smell and started perusing the new books.
This is the life....standing in Barnes and Noble, surrounded by books and...oh my God, look at that cheesecake in the display case at the bakery. I MUST try that cheesecake. Okay, so I have cake at home but not chocolate CHEESEcake. Plus, it’s my birthday and there are no such things as calories on birthdays. I just need to---
“Mommy. Natalie is leaving,” my son’s voice piped up.
Ahh nice. Natalie is leaving. She must be....
Then it suddenly dawned on me that Natalie was MY kid. And that she was totally taking off into the travel section.
Crap.
I put the book I was looking at down and rushed off in pursuit of my daughter with my son at my heels. I was a little annoyed as I made my way past books about places that I will probably never get to go to. Before we had entered Barnes and Noble I had explained solemnly to my kids that it was a magical place that needed to be respected so they had to be quiet.
“Kind of like a church?” my son Tommy wondered.
I patted his head. “Yes! Kind of like a church!”
Why didn’t my daughter comprehend this? Is it so hard for her to stand in place for a few minutes? Didn’t she realize we were in BARNES and NOBLE?
I found Natalie crouching in front of the books about Disney. I have to give it to her, she has taste. I’d love to go back to Disney. Maybe one day.
I didn’t want to move too fast because if I did Natalie would probably take off again. So I sort of bent over and started speaking in soothing tones. I pretended she was an abandoned pet and that I was saving it from leaping off a cliff.
“Hi there, Natalie. Hi. I see you’re in front of the Disney books. Disney was so much FUN, wasn’t it?” I cooed as I slowly approached her. At my right Tommy started rushing over and I put a hand on his shoulder. “Stop,” I hissed. “If you move too quickly she’ll run again.”
Tommy nodded seriously and copied my movements. I was almost able to grab Natalie’s arm....almost....almost...
“Here’s the book about Tibet!” a woman’s voice rang out.
This was all Natalie needed to make another escape.
CRAP.
Dang lady, could you not have lowered you voice?
Natalie giggled over to the magazines and covered her face. Then she threw her palms open and shrieked, “Peekyboo!”
I managed to grab her this time.
“We do NOT run off,” I admonished her as I headed over to the fiction section. I had my arm around her waist and tucked up underneath my left armpit. She was not pleased but it gave me a few minutes to look through some books. I quickly picked one up for our trip to Texas next week.
I ended up buying this one:
As we were driving away I realized that I forgot to pick up the cheesecake.
Shopping with children is not fun.
But still, there was one place left that I wanted to pop into.
Gymboree.
Gymboree is currently having their Red Balloon Sale and a bunch of things are $7.99 and under.
I had a $25 gift card from my best friend Jennifer because she knows me well.
When we got to the mall I put Natalie in her stroller and told her she had to SIT which is like a foreign word to her. My heart started beating with excitement as I made my way to Gymboree. I was thrilled to search through the clearance racks—who knows what I might find? Maybe I’d discover—
“Mommy! Wait up!”
I realized that I was walking so fast that my son was a few feet behind me.
Oops.
“Sorry Tommy,” I said as he caught up.
When we walked into the store another burst of excitement went through me when I saw the clearance racks set up towards the front. There were two other women going through the racks and at first I gazed at them with appreciation. They probably understood completely how exciting children’s clothing could be. They probably wouldn’t look confused when I gushed about the different line names. In short these were my people!!
As I was thinking this one of the women realized I was looking over and shot me an evil look.
Well. Okay. Maybe she’s not my people after all. She probably just walked into the store because she was enticed by the giant sale sign and would gape at me in confusion if I rambled on about how Sweeter than Chocolate was one of my favorite lines from the store.
Plus, she couldn’t be one of my people anyway. She had a huge pile of clothes draped across her arm. Wait a minute. She was stealing all the deals! I can’t let someone who isn’t even into Gymboree steal all the deals! I walked determinedly over to the rack and started going through it. All the sizes were much too large for my children. As I was debating buying a shirt in a size 5—-because after all, Natalie would EVENTUALLY get there—-I heard Tommy say,
“Mommy, Natalie is leaving the stroller.”
What?
I stared at the stroller and realized she was calmly climbing out of it.
“No, Natalie,” I said sternly.
She immediately took offense and tilted her head back and emitted a scream that caused everyone in the store to look over.
I quickly dug in my purse and handed her my cell phone.
“Here. Take this!” I practically shoved it at her.
Natalie quieted down and happily took it. If ever anyone receives a strange text message from me, it’s likely because Natalie has my phone. Just an FYI.
I was able to go through the racks but I didn’t find much.
Slightly dejected, I went to check out. As I went to pay Natalie suddenly announced, “I farted.”
Lovely. She’s been saying that for the past few days and I’ve explained more than once that that’s the sort of news that one keeps to themselves. But she doesn’t seem to comprehend and it’s been “I farted” several times a day to the point where I’ve started to wonder if she could benefit from some Beano.
The girl who was ringing up my clothes looked up in shock when Natalie announced her flatulence.
“She didn’t say what you think,” I said in a rushed voice. “She said...'I started' because she started to play a game on the cell phone.”
Look, I go into Gymboree a lot. I can’t have them thinking that I’m the customer with the kid that announces that she’s cut the cheese. I just CAN’T.
The check out girl looked impressed. “She can already play games?” she said incredulously as she put my clothes in a bag.
I nodded. “Yes. Just the, um, easy ones.” To be honest, I don’t even know if games are even ON my cell phone. I reached over and surreptitiously pulled the cell phone from Natalie’s mouth and tried to send her a silent message that she needed to look as though she were playing a game.
“Have a good day,” the girl said, handing me my receipt.
“Thanks,” I replied. “It’s my birthday so I intend to have a good day.”
Now, what I was hoping that would happen in response to birthday announcement is that balloons would fall from the ceiling and Michael Phelps would pop out of the back blowing a whistle and that the CEO of Gymboree would stroll out from the back and ceremoniously hand me a $5000 gift card to the store.
What really happened is that the girl looked bored, blew a bubble with her gum and gave me a pity, “Happy Birthday,” because she was probably tired of me looking at her expectantly.
Oh well.
So I went shopping.
I decided to head to Barnes and Noble first. I think I could spend an entire day in Barnes and Noble. When I walked through the doors I breathed in that familiar coffee smell and started perusing the new books.
This is the life....standing in Barnes and Noble, surrounded by books and...oh my God, look at that cheesecake in the display case at the bakery. I MUST try that cheesecake. Okay, so I have cake at home but not chocolate CHEESEcake. Plus, it’s my birthday and there are no such things as calories on birthdays. I just need to---
“Mommy. Natalie is leaving,” my son’s voice piped up.
Ahh nice. Natalie is leaving. She must be....
Then it suddenly dawned on me that Natalie was MY kid. And that she was totally taking off into the travel section.
Crap.
I put the book I was looking at down and rushed off in pursuit of my daughter with my son at my heels. I was a little annoyed as I made my way past books about places that I will probably never get to go to. Before we had entered Barnes and Noble I had explained solemnly to my kids that it was a magical place that needed to be respected so they had to be quiet.
“Kind of like a church?” my son Tommy wondered.
I patted his head. “Yes! Kind of like a church!”
Why didn’t my daughter comprehend this? Is it so hard for her to stand in place for a few minutes? Didn’t she realize we were in BARNES and NOBLE?
I found Natalie crouching in front of the books about Disney. I have to give it to her, she has taste. I’d love to go back to Disney. Maybe one day.
I didn’t want to move too fast because if I did Natalie would probably take off again. So I sort of bent over and started speaking in soothing tones. I pretended she was an abandoned pet and that I was saving it from leaping off a cliff.
“Hi there, Natalie. Hi. I see you’re in front of the Disney books. Disney was so much FUN, wasn’t it?” I cooed as I slowly approached her. At my right Tommy started rushing over and I put a hand on his shoulder. “Stop,” I hissed. “If you move too quickly she’ll run again.”
Tommy nodded seriously and copied my movements. I was almost able to grab Natalie’s arm....almost....almost...
“Here’s the book about Tibet!” a woman’s voice rang out.
This was all Natalie needed to make another escape.
CRAP.
Dang lady, could you not have lowered you voice?
Natalie giggled over to the magazines and covered her face. Then she threw her palms open and shrieked, “Peekyboo!”
I managed to grab her this time.
“We do NOT run off,” I admonished her as I headed over to the fiction section. I had my arm around her waist and tucked up underneath my left armpit. She was not pleased but it gave me a few minutes to look through some books. I quickly picked one up for our trip to Texas next week.
I ended up buying this one:
As we were driving away I realized that I forgot to pick up the cheesecake.
Shopping with children is not fun.
But still, there was one place left that I wanted to pop into.
Gymboree.
Gymboree is currently having their Red Balloon Sale and a bunch of things are $7.99 and under.
I had a $25 gift card from my best friend Jennifer because she knows me well.
When we got to the mall I put Natalie in her stroller and told her she had to SIT which is like a foreign word to her. My heart started beating with excitement as I made my way to Gymboree. I was thrilled to search through the clearance racks—who knows what I might find? Maybe I’d discover—
“Mommy! Wait up!”
I realized that I was walking so fast that my son was a few feet behind me.
Oops.
“Sorry Tommy,” I said as he caught up.
When we walked into the store another burst of excitement went through me when I saw the clearance racks set up towards the front. There were two other women going through the racks and at first I gazed at them with appreciation. They probably understood completely how exciting children’s clothing could be. They probably wouldn’t look confused when I gushed about the different line names. In short these were my people!!
As I was thinking this one of the women realized I was looking over and shot me an evil look.
Well. Okay. Maybe she’s not my people after all. She probably just walked into the store because she was enticed by the giant sale sign and would gape at me in confusion if I rambled on about how Sweeter than Chocolate was one of my favorite lines from the store.
Plus, she couldn’t be one of my people anyway. She had a huge pile of clothes draped across her arm. Wait a minute. She was stealing all the deals! I can’t let someone who isn’t even into Gymboree steal all the deals! I walked determinedly over to the rack and started going through it. All the sizes were much too large for my children. As I was debating buying a shirt in a size 5—-because after all, Natalie would EVENTUALLY get there—-I heard Tommy say,
“Mommy, Natalie is leaving the stroller.”
What?
I stared at the stroller and realized she was calmly climbing out of it.
“No, Natalie,” I said sternly.
She immediately took offense and tilted her head back and emitted a scream that caused everyone in the store to look over.
I quickly dug in my purse and handed her my cell phone.
“Here. Take this!” I practically shoved it at her.
Natalie quieted down and happily took it. If ever anyone receives a strange text message from me, it’s likely because Natalie has my phone. Just an FYI.
I was able to go through the racks but I didn’t find much.
Slightly dejected, I went to check out. As I went to pay Natalie suddenly announced, “I farted.”
Lovely. She’s been saying that for the past few days and I’ve explained more than once that that’s the sort of news that one keeps to themselves. But she doesn’t seem to comprehend and it’s been “I farted” several times a day to the point where I’ve started to wonder if she could benefit from some Beano.
The girl who was ringing up my clothes looked up in shock when Natalie announced her flatulence.
“She didn’t say what you think,” I said in a rushed voice. “She said...'I started' because she started to play a game on the cell phone.”
Look, I go into Gymboree a lot. I can’t have them thinking that I’m the customer with the kid that announces that she’s cut the cheese. I just CAN’T.
The check out girl looked impressed. “She can already play games?” she said incredulously as she put my clothes in a bag.
I nodded. “Yes. Just the, um, easy ones.” To be honest, I don’t even know if games are even ON my cell phone. I reached over and surreptitiously pulled the cell phone from Natalie’s mouth and tried to send her a silent message that she needed to look as though she were playing a game.
“Have a good day,” the girl said, handing me my receipt.
“Thanks,” I replied. “It’s my birthday so I intend to have a good day.”
Now, what I was hoping that would happen in response to birthday announcement is that balloons would fall from the ceiling and Michael Phelps would pop out of the back blowing a whistle and that the CEO of Gymboree would stroll out from the back and ceremoniously hand me a $5000 gift card to the store.
What really happened is that the girl looked bored, blew a bubble with her gum and gave me a pity, “Happy Birthday,” because she was probably tired of me looking at her expectantly.
Oh well.
Hi! I Am Karen and I Am a Spirit Jumper
Today I was reading some blogs when I came across one that touched my soul. It is by my blogger friend Jacki over at Counting My Abundant Blessings. For a while now we have been praying and keeping up with her brother Mike's battle with cancer and today she issued a challenge for her readers to pay it forward through an organization called Spirit Jump. Spirit Jump is a program that directly connects a gift giver with a person battling cancer. It was founded in November, 2008 by two young women who have both battled cancer. Wow, I thought that is so very awesome. It was so awesome that I found myself joining immediately. You all know my father and aunt both are battling lung cancer and I thought what a great way to do more. The Mission of Spirit Jump is this: "If you have a shop, artistic abilities or even an extra card in your drawer and you want to give it to a person in need, send Spirit Jump an email that you want to be a Spirit Jumper at spiritjumper@spiritjump.com. They will then connect you directly with a person in need, or they can give you a list of names, a brief description of what their particular cancer battle is and you can choose. When the match is made, They’ll give you that persons mailing address and then it’s up to you to send the gift. It’s a simple. I truly believe that "If you decide to be a Spirit Jumper you will be overwhelmed with the joy and warmth you feel when giving a gift. Additionally, every Spirit Jumper is welcome to write a post on their website and tell their many readers about your shop, blog or website. You may include links, photos and any information you want to be featured on the site. They encourage you to also include why you decided to donate, who you donated to and maybe even a photo of what you donated. This will be wonderful exposure for your shop, blog, website and you will be lifting someone’s spirit, it is a WIN, WIN" situation for all involved, don't you think? If you are interested and want more information then click on the link I provided for you at the top of this blog. You won't be disappointed I can promise you that. There are a lot of cancer patients out there who need some extra love. Can you pay it forward?
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Petrified of Airplanes
I fly to Texas on Wednesday.
I do not like to fly.
I especially do not like to fly with children.
But flying in general makes me nervous. If the plane so much as gives a funny lurch then I’m positive we’re all going to die. I grip the armrests until my knuckles turn white and I’ve been asked more times than I care to count by other passengers if I’m okay.
“You look terrified, dear,” an elderly woman once said to me.
Well. That’s probably because I AM.
My heart immediately starts to race the second I step onboard the aircraft and am hit with the familiar airplane scent of recycled air. That alone can send me into a panic attack.
It doesn’t help when I read stories about plane crashes. When I heard about the Air France flight that went missing I started to chew on my nails in fear. At first I had hope that perhaps the aircraft went to an island like the one on Lost. But then pieces of the plane were found in the ocean followed by bodies—and I crossed myself even though I’m not Catholic and muttered something like, “Sweet Jesus.”
Then I read about a Continental flight this morning where the pilot ended up dying so the co-pilot had to take over.
So…not only do I have to worry about the plane crashing, I also have to worry about the health of the pilot. I think when I board the plane on Wednesday I’m going to take a good look at the pilot and ask point blank how his ticker is working and does he think he’s healthy enough to fly? If he gives a funny cough I’m going to be tempted to turn on my heel and walk off.
Flying with children just adds to my stress. I have a backpack stuffed with small toys that I’ve picked up that will hopefully distract them. I have a portable DVD player that is all ready to go. I think everything will be okay. I think….
Oh my God, I just have a feeling that my kids are going to turn into monsters. This is the first time that I’m flying ON MY OWN without any help. They sense fear just like dogs. They latch onto any sort of weakness. I’m tempted to pick up harnesses but then I picture myself being dragged down the terminal at top speed.
What if I have to use the bathroom? I suppose I have to lug everything in the stall with me along with my two kids. I can’t very well leave my seven-year-old by himself at a busy airport.
I’ll just have to take it easy on the liquids. Because going to the bathroom on the airplane will just be out of the question.
What if both of the kids take off in opposite directions? Who do I chase first? Do I leave all our stuff just sitting there? But…that’s not allowed these days at the airport. The announcement that sounds overhead every five minutes specifically says that if luggage is abandoned, that it will be destroyed. I can’t have my luggage destroyed! There are adorable Gymboree outfits in there! Oh, and my stuff too.
If we go through turbulence on the airplane I’ll have to pretend like everything is okay.
“It’s perfectly normal,” I’ll tell my kids in a fake voice even though what I’ll really want to do is curl up in a ball and pop a Xanax in my mouth.
Everything is going to be okay.
That’s my mantra. That’s what I keep telling myself when I feel another wave of hysteria coming on.
I can do this.
I’m a grown adult for heavens sake.
If I can survive birthing and breastfeeding two children then surely I can handle a silly little plane ride.
Right?
Right.
I do not like to fly.
I especially do not like to fly with children.
But flying in general makes me nervous. If the plane so much as gives a funny lurch then I’m positive we’re all going to die. I grip the armrests until my knuckles turn white and I’ve been asked more times than I care to count by other passengers if I’m okay.
“You look terrified, dear,” an elderly woman once said to me.
Well. That’s probably because I AM.
My heart immediately starts to race the second I step onboard the aircraft and am hit with the familiar airplane scent of recycled air. That alone can send me into a panic attack.
It doesn’t help when I read stories about plane crashes. When I heard about the Air France flight that went missing I started to chew on my nails in fear. At first I had hope that perhaps the aircraft went to an island like the one on Lost. But then pieces of the plane were found in the ocean followed by bodies—and I crossed myself even though I’m not Catholic and muttered something like, “Sweet Jesus.”
Then I read about a Continental flight this morning where the pilot ended up dying so the co-pilot had to take over.
So…not only do I have to worry about the plane crashing, I also have to worry about the health of the pilot. I think when I board the plane on Wednesday I’m going to take a good look at the pilot and ask point blank how his ticker is working and does he think he’s healthy enough to fly? If he gives a funny cough I’m going to be tempted to turn on my heel and walk off.
Flying with children just adds to my stress. I have a backpack stuffed with small toys that I’ve picked up that will hopefully distract them. I have a portable DVD player that is all ready to go. I think everything will be okay. I think….
Oh my God, I just have a feeling that my kids are going to turn into monsters. This is the first time that I’m flying ON MY OWN without any help. They sense fear just like dogs. They latch onto any sort of weakness. I’m tempted to pick up harnesses but then I picture myself being dragged down the terminal at top speed.
What if I have to use the bathroom? I suppose I have to lug everything in the stall with me along with my two kids. I can’t very well leave my seven-year-old by himself at a busy airport.
I’ll just have to take it easy on the liquids. Because going to the bathroom on the airplane will just be out of the question.
What if both of the kids take off in opposite directions? Who do I chase first? Do I leave all our stuff just sitting there? But…that’s not allowed these days at the airport. The announcement that sounds overhead every five minutes specifically says that if luggage is abandoned, that it will be destroyed. I can’t have my luggage destroyed! There are adorable Gymboree outfits in there! Oh, and my stuff too.
If we go through turbulence on the airplane I’ll have to pretend like everything is okay.
“It’s perfectly normal,” I’ll tell my kids in a fake voice even though what I’ll really want to do is curl up in a ball and pop a Xanax in my mouth.
Everything is going to be okay.
That’s my mantra. That’s what I keep telling myself when I feel another wave of hysteria coming on.
I can do this.
I’m a grown adult for heavens sake.
If I can survive birthing and breastfeeding two children then surely I can handle a silly little plane ride.
Right?
Right.
Turtleneck Turtle Race for Alzheimers
When I moved to Alabama in 1976 I was amazed at all the little festivals there were. The cotton festival, the peach festival, the boll weevil festival(only in the south would there be a festival for a bug.) Four years after I moved here the greatest event I have ever attended kicked off. It was the Turtleneck Turtle Race for Alzheimer's. The tradition started in 1980 and pits amphibian against amphibian in a fun, family event. Few competitors leave empty-handed, awards are given in multiple categories, including best-dressed, best-decorated, etc. The coolest thing about this event is that all proceeds benefit Alzheimer's disease research. In 1980 that did not mean a whole lot to me because no one in my family had ever suffered from Alzheimers. In 2009 it means a great deal since I have two parents suffering from this dreaded disease. If you are not busy at 8 a.m. on Saturday, are the proud owners of a racing turtle, like to run(there is also a human race prior to the turtle event), or just plain bored....come to the T.C. Russell Airport Park and participate in the turtle races. When I decided to blog about this today it made me think....I wonder what events my blogger buddies know of and are willing to share. Heck...I might find a new event to attend. So what event takes place in or near your town? Care to share?
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Of Spills and Mystery Stains
Being a stay at home mom isn't easy.
Especially when you have two messy kids.
I lose count of the messes that I clean up in a day.
So I decided to take pictures of everything I had to scrub up today. Here is what I've cleaned up so far:
This morning I found moon sand in my bathroom sink. I rue the day that I decided to purchase it because I've been finding the sand all over my house. I asked my son why there was moon sand in the sink and he said he was "watering" it. This confused me.
I'm working on potty training Natalie. I'll sometimes let her run around naked because I read that it's easier for kids to be that way when they're potty training. Needless to say, I don't think Natalie will get the chance to be naked for a long time. She peed all over the carpet and then calmly told me, "I pottied!" Then there was the time that I found her crouching over my shoe and it took me a few seconds to realize that she was totally PEEING in it. My poor Sketchers!
Do I have a daughter or a puppy?
I wish I could blame this spill on the kids. But it was me. I'm a total klutz and I knock things over on a daily basis. I may be the only adult who still bumps her drinking glass over on the table.
Natalie somehow managed to find some candy powder and took it upon herself to spread it around on the kitchen floor. "It's pretty!" she told me grandly when I caught her. Do you notice what her shirt says? It says Little Monster and I'm sorry, sometimes she truly is one.
Ack! Look what Tommy did. Okay, I'm kidding. I did that. Again, I'm a total klutz and I went to take a sip and managed to knock my juice onto the floor. What adult still does this????
Um. Can someone explain to me what in the world this is? I found it about an hour ago and at first I thought it was a bug. Then I peered closer and I was all, "The crap???" Is it pudding? Ew, what if it IS a smushed bug? But my husband isn't here so I doubt it--he has a bad habit of killing bugs and leaving the carcasses behind for ME to clean up. Whatever it is I'm still wary of cleaning it up. I'm slightly paranoid that it's...feces...though how it got on the wall like that is beyond me. But I have talented kids who have figured out all sorts of ways to leave behind messes.
Yuck.
Especially when you have two messy kids.
I lose count of the messes that I clean up in a day.
So I decided to take pictures of everything I had to scrub up today. Here is what I've cleaned up so far:
This morning I found moon sand in my bathroom sink. I rue the day that I decided to purchase it because I've been finding the sand all over my house. I asked my son why there was moon sand in the sink and he said he was "watering" it. This confused me.
I'm working on potty training Natalie. I'll sometimes let her run around naked because I read that it's easier for kids to be that way when they're potty training. Needless to say, I don't think Natalie will get the chance to be naked for a long time. She peed all over the carpet and then calmly told me, "I pottied!" Then there was the time that I found her crouching over my shoe and it took me a few seconds to realize that she was totally PEEING in it. My poor Sketchers!
Do I have a daughter or a puppy?
I wish I could blame this spill on the kids. But it was me. I'm a total klutz and I knock things over on a daily basis. I may be the only adult who still bumps her drinking glass over on the table.
Natalie somehow managed to find some candy powder and took it upon herself to spread it around on the kitchen floor. "It's pretty!" she told me grandly when I caught her. Do you notice what her shirt says? It says Little Monster and I'm sorry, sometimes she truly is one.
Ack! Look what Tommy did. Okay, I'm kidding. I did that. Again, I'm a total klutz and I went to take a sip and managed to knock my juice onto the floor. What adult still does this????
Um. Can someone explain to me what in the world this is? I found it about an hour ago and at first I thought it was a bug. Then I peered closer and I was all, "The crap???" Is it pudding? Ew, what if it IS a smushed bug? But my husband isn't here so I doubt it--he has a bad habit of killing bugs and leaving the carcasses behind for ME to clean up. Whatever it is I'm still wary of cleaning it up. I'm slightly paranoid that it's...feces...though how it got on the wall like that is beyond me. But I have talented kids who have figured out all sorts of ways to leave behind messes.
Yuck.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
I'm Surrounded by Weeds
I am not a fan of yard work.
Some people find it soothing to sit there and pull weeds or plant a new flower.
I do not.
Oh, I always marvel and admire other people’s yards and vow that I’ll try harder to grow stuff next year. But then that year comes and I’m all, “Well....maybe NEXT year....”
The thing is, I generally kill everything I plant. Not on purpose, of course. It starts out well but then I wind up forgetting about it and the next time I remember it’s all brown and shriveled.
My husband is usually in charge of the yard. But since he’s gone, I’ve had to take over. And I have to say, I’m not doing a great job. There are weeds dotting the yard and they’ve started popping up through the driveway cracks. I seriously need to weed eat but I can’t even BEGIN to figure out how to work that crazy contraption. It’s nearly as big as I am! I try to mow as close to the corners as I possibly can but the last time I did that, a rock flew up and nearly hit me right in the face.
Since we live on the military base our yard is inspected on a weekly basis. If the yard is deemed “unsightly” you get a citation. If you get enough citations you’re kicked out. Now, I’ve never heard of this ACTUALLY happening but I do know if you get a ton of citations that it goes to the first sergeant and the military member gets an ass chewing.
We got a citation last week. For having an unsightly yard. The guy wrote down that I needed to pull the weeds and to mow the back area.
Like I don’t already have enough on my plate!
I managed to pull a few weeds and then I got bored and came back inside. Then, okay, I somehow FORGOT about the yard because I was busy dealing with the kids. The yard completely slipped my mind until I saw the housing inspector trolling around the side of my house yesterday after I had put Natalie down for her nap.
Shit!
He had a clipboard in his hands and was frowning at some weeds. Then he started scribbling something down and I just KNEW it was another citation.
I couldn’t get my husband yelled at by his first sergeant! He’d never let me forget it. It would give him a leg up on EVERYTHING! For instance, if we were deciding what to have for dinner and I suggested spaghetti and he wanted lasagna, he could add something like, “And remember that one time you got me yelled at by the first sergeant..” and would just trail off and raise his eyebrows at me. Then I’d feel guilty all over again and let him have his way.
I can’t have that!
So I took a deep breath and pinched my cheeks---Scarlett O’Hara was always pinching her cheeks before speaking to a man. Apparently they make them red or something but I don’t know if I pinched too hard or what because they really started to sting.
The things we do to impress the opposite sex.
I strolled over to the inspector and said in a jovial voice, “Hello there!”
I made him jump because he was so busy writing something down. He looked up all startled and I relaxed a bit because he was an older man which meant that perhaps I would remind him of his precious granddaughter and he’d cut me some slack.
Of course, his granddaughter could be a total druggie who once stole a bunch of money from him and he totally hates her now but in my mind she was this sweet girl who went to Harvard and is now a doctor.
“You have weeds all over the place,” the inspector told me after finding his voice. His tone suggested that he was quite offended by this and I was surprised he didn’t wag his finger at me reproachfully.
Okay. It’s okay. Just look innocent. Flutter your eyelashes. No, scratch that, you don’t want him to think you’re coming on to him.
“I’m sorry,” I said regretfully. I even lowered my chin and tried to make it look like I was really disturbed by having an unsightly yard. “It’s just, my husband is gone and he’s usually in charge of the yard. I have two kids and a house to take care of...” Not to mention a novel that I'm trying to finish!
I thought this might move the inspector. But it didn’t. He just stared at me as though I were lying to him. I imagine he hears a lot of excuses. But in this case, it wasn’t an excuse!
“Where are your kids now?” he wondered, eyebrows raised.
“Er…one is sleeping and the other is watching TV,” I admitted. As soon as I said that I realized I had made a grave mistake.
“Then…how about you get to pulling out some weeds? That way I don’t have to give you another citation.” He gave me a stern look.
He can’t possibly be a grandfather. If so, he probably terrifies his grandkids. My God, he didn’t even CARE that my husband was gone…
I nodded my head. What else could I do? I couldn’t very well wave my arm and say, “Nah,” and head inside.
So I forced a smile and said, “I’ll get right on those weeds!” and bent down and pulled a wad of them up.
Of course after I did that I was all, crap, where do I put weeds? A regular trash bag? A paper bag? I sort of sat there holding the weeds in confusion as they rained dirt down my legs.
“I’m going to finish checking out the rest of the houses on the cul-de-sac,” the inspector said. “You might want to get a bag for the weeds. There is a lot of them,” he added pointedly and gave me another non-warm grandfather look.
I wanted to flip him the bird but instead I bobbed my head enthusiastically. “Thanks for the tip!” I said, my voice a few octaves higher than usual because I was trying so hard not to lose my temper.
I rushed inside and grabbed a paper bag and then walked back outside.
This sucked.
What I wanted to do was sprawl out on the couch and enjoy a few minutes of silence.
But I couldn’t.
I had weeds to pull.
My son Tommy offered to help and at first he did a good job but then he got distracted and started chasing some butterflies.
I yanked up weed after weed after weed…my fingers started to ache and the tips of them had turned brown from the dirt. After I pulled up a huge mound a worm fell off the bottom and landed on my knee.
“JESUS CHRIST!” I boomed and shot straight up. The weeds I had just pulled up were flung across the yard and I started doing a silly little worm-get-the-crap-off-me dance around the yard.
“Yay! Dancing!” Tommy said and started copying my movements.
There we were, two crazies doing the strangest dance you’ll probably ever see.
The inspector was across the cul de sac and looked over in confusion as I leaped across the grass. I immediately stopped when I saw his expression and brushed myself off and pretended like I had meant to do that all along.
“Leg cramp!” I called out to him and then went back to the weeds.
I spent what seemed like forever plucking out weeds. My throat started to feel all dry and I wanted some water but I was afraid the inspector would stalk over and hit me over the head with his clipboard or something. He seemed like the type.
“This is not fun,” I said wistfully to myself as I moved over to this rock mountain in our yard that was dotted with the dreaded weeds.
I hate the rock mountain. It was here when we moved in. I wish the previous owners had destroyed it before they left because it is a pain in the butt during the summer. When we first moved in there was a plant growing in the middle but we managed to kill that less than a year after moving in.
After what seemed like forever, I was starting to really hate weeds. My hand accidentally bumped a rock as I went to yank up more weeds and I watched as the rock landed over a tiny mound.
The rock totally covered the small patch of weeds!
Suddenly my mind started racing with excitement. I could take a bunch of rocks and just COVER the rest of the weeds! Then I wouldn’t have to worry about them and maybe I’d have a few minutes left to rest before Natalie woke up. YES!
With rejuvenated energy I started grabbing rocks and hiding some weed patches. I was so busy doing this that I didn’t hear the footsteps behind me. Then I heard someone clearing their throat loudly and I whipped around in shock.
The inspector stared down at me with thin lips. He did not look pleased.
Shit.
“This…isn’t how it looks,” I said lightly. I even pulled out a patch of weeds to show him that there was no way that I was covering them up.
“It looks like you’re covering the weeds with rocks,” the inspector said sharply.
Shit again.
Nervous laughter escaped my lips. “Don’t be silly...I would never...”
The inspector just rolled his eyes. “Look. I’ll give you a break this week. Next week you need to have this yard taken care of. Make sure you mow in the back.” He gestured with his clipboard. “It looks like a jungle back there.”
I didn’t tell him that I had STARTED to mow the back but then had gotten tired and had sworn that I saw John Krasinski leap out from behind a tree so I figured it was time to stop.
“I’ll get it done,” I promised.
The inspector gave me one last stern look before getting into his car and driving off.
So now I’ve got to make sure that I have the yard done. I plan on picking up some weed killer and hoping that it’ll do the job for me. I asked my husband which kind I should get and he started prattling on about different ones and saying things like, “But don’t put it on the grass or it’ll KILL it!”
Oh. Well that would suck.
I just assumed the weed killer would sense when something wasn’t a weed and leave it be.
But I guess not.
Obviously I have a lot of learn.
Some people find it soothing to sit there and pull weeds or plant a new flower.
I do not.
Oh, I always marvel and admire other people’s yards and vow that I’ll try harder to grow stuff next year. But then that year comes and I’m all, “Well....maybe NEXT year....”
The thing is, I generally kill everything I plant. Not on purpose, of course. It starts out well but then I wind up forgetting about it and the next time I remember it’s all brown and shriveled.
My husband is usually in charge of the yard. But since he’s gone, I’ve had to take over. And I have to say, I’m not doing a great job. There are weeds dotting the yard and they’ve started popping up through the driveway cracks. I seriously need to weed eat but I can’t even BEGIN to figure out how to work that crazy contraption. It’s nearly as big as I am! I try to mow as close to the corners as I possibly can but the last time I did that, a rock flew up and nearly hit me right in the face.
Since we live on the military base our yard is inspected on a weekly basis. If the yard is deemed “unsightly” you get a citation. If you get enough citations you’re kicked out. Now, I’ve never heard of this ACTUALLY happening but I do know if you get a ton of citations that it goes to the first sergeant and the military member gets an ass chewing.
We got a citation last week. For having an unsightly yard. The guy wrote down that I needed to pull the weeds and to mow the back area.
Like I don’t already have enough on my plate!
I managed to pull a few weeds and then I got bored and came back inside. Then, okay, I somehow FORGOT about the yard because I was busy dealing with the kids. The yard completely slipped my mind until I saw the housing inspector trolling around the side of my house yesterday after I had put Natalie down for her nap.
Shit!
He had a clipboard in his hands and was frowning at some weeds. Then he started scribbling something down and I just KNEW it was another citation.
I couldn’t get my husband yelled at by his first sergeant! He’d never let me forget it. It would give him a leg up on EVERYTHING! For instance, if we were deciding what to have for dinner and I suggested spaghetti and he wanted lasagna, he could add something like, “And remember that one time you got me yelled at by the first sergeant..” and would just trail off and raise his eyebrows at me. Then I’d feel guilty all over again and let him have his way.
I can’t have that!
So I took a deep breath and pinched my cheeks---Scarlett O’Hara was always pinching her cheeks before speaking to a man. Apparently they make them red or something but I don’t know if I pinched too hard or what because they really started to sting.
The things we do to impress the opposite sex.
I strolled over to the inspector and said in a jovial voice, “Hello there!”
I made him jump because he was so busy writing something down. He looked up all startled and I relaxed a bit because he was an older man which meant that perhaps I would remind him of his precious granddaughter and he’d cut me some slack.
Of course, his granddaughter could be a total druggie who once stole a bunch of money from him and he totally hates her now but in my mind she was this sweet girl who went to Harvard and is now a doctor.
“You have weeds all over the place,” the inspector told me after finding his voice. His tone suggested that he was quite offended by this and I was surprised he didn’t wag his finger at me reproachfully.
Okay. It’s okay. Just look innocent. Flutter your eyelashes. No, scratch that, you don’t want him to think you’re coming on to him.
“I’m sorry,” I said regretfully. I even lowered my chin and tried to make it look like I was really disturbed by having an unsightly yard. “It’s just, my husband is gone and he’s usually in charge of the yard. I have two kids and a house to take care of...” Not to mention a novel that I'm trying to finish!
I thought this might move the inspector. But it didn’t. He just stared at me as though I were lying to him. I imagine he hears a lot of excuses. But in this case, it wasn’t an excuse!
“Where are your kids now?” he wondered, eyebrows raised.
“Er…one is sleeping and the other is watching TV,” I admitted. As soon as I said that I realized I had made a grave mistake.
“Then…how about you get to pulling out some weeds? That way I don’t have to give you another citation.” He gave me a stern look.
He can’t possibly be a grandfather. If so, he probably terrifies his grandkids. My God, he didn’t even CARE that my husband was gone…
I nodded my head. What else could I do? I couldn’t very well wave my arm and say, “Nah,” and head inside.
So I forced a smile and said, “I’ll get right on those weeds!” and bent down and pulled a wad of them up.
Of course after I did that I was all, crap, where do I put weeds? A regular trash bag? A paper bag? I sort of sat there holding the weeds in confusion as they rained dirt down my legs.
“I’m going to finish checking out the rest of the houses on the cul-de-sac,” the inspector said. “You might want to get a bag for the weeds. There is a lot of them,” he added pointedly and gave me another non-warm grandfather look.
I wanted to flip him the bird but instead I bobbed my head enthusiastically. “Thanks for the tip!” I said, my voice a few octaves higher than usual because I was trying so hard not to lose my temper.
I rushed inside and grabbed a paper bag and then walked back outside.
This sucked.
What I wanted to do was sprawl out on the couch and enjoy a few minutes of silence.
But I couldn’t.
I had weeds to pull.
My son Tommy offered to help and at first he did a good job but then he got distracted and started chasing some butterflies.
I yanked up weed after weed after weed…my fingers started to ache and the tips of them had turned brown from the dirt. After I pulled up a huge mound a worm fell off the bottom and landed on my knee.
“JESUS CHRIST!” I boomed and shot straight up. The weeds I had just pulled up were flung across the yard and I started doing a silly little worm-get-the-crap-off-me dance around the yard.
“Yay! Dancing!” Tommy said and started copying my movements.
There we were, two crazies doing the strangest dance you’ll probably ever see.
The inspector was across the cul de sac and looked over in confusion as I leaped across the grass. I immediately stopped when I saw his expression and brushed myself off and pretended like I had meant to do that all along.
“Leg cramp!” I called out to him and then went back to the weeds.
I spent what seemed like forever plucking out weeds. My throat started to feel all dry and I wanted some water but I was afraid the inspector would stalk over and hit me over the head with his clipboard or something. He seemed like the type.
“This is not fun,” I said wistfully to myself as I moved over to this rock mountain in our yard that was dotted with the dreaded weeds.
I hate the rock mountain. It was here when we moved in. I wish the previous owners had destroyed it before they left because it is a pain in the butt during the summer. When we first moved in there was a plant growing in the middle but we managed to kill that less than a year after moving in.
After what seemed like forever, I was starting to really hate weeds. My hand accidentally bumped a rock as I went to yank up more weeds and I watched as the rock landed over a tiny mound.
The rock totally covered the small patch of weeds!
Suddenly my mind started racing with excitement. I could take a bunch of rocks and just COVER the rest of the weeds! Then I wouldn’t have to worry about them and maybe I’d have a few minutes left to rest before Natalie woke up. YES!
With rejuvenated energy I started grabbing rocks and hiding some weed patches. I was so busy doing this that I didn’t hear the footsteps behind me. Then I heard someone clearing their throat loudly and I whipped around in shock.
The inspector stared down at me with thin lips. He did not look pleased.
Shit.
“This…isn’t how it looks,” I said lightly. I even pulled out a patch of weeds to show him that there was no way that I was covering them up.
“It looks like you’re covering the weeds with rocks,” the inspector said sharply.
Shit again.
Nervous laughter escaped my lips. “Don’t be silly...I would never...”
The inspector just rolled his eyes. “Look. I’ll give you a break this week. Next week you need to have this yard taken care of. Make sure you mow in the back.” He gestured with his clipboard. “It looks like a jungle back there.”
I didn’t tell him that I had STARTED to mow the back but then had gotten tired and had sworn that I saw John Krasinski leap out from behind a tree so I figured it was time to stop.
“I’ll get it done,” I promised.
The inspector gave me one last stern look before getting into his car and driving off.
So now I’ve got to make sure that I have the yard done. I plan on picking up some weed killer and hoping that it’ll do the job for me. I asked my husband which kind I should get and he started prattling on about different ones and saying things like, “But don’t put it on the grass or it’ll KILL it!”
Oh. Well that would suck.
I just assumed the weed killer would sense when something wasn’t a weed and leave it be.
But I guess not.
Obviously I have a lot of learn.
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