Oh My Man I Love Him So....and Yes, He Does Know

Let me introduce you to my special guy. He is a great man.....at least to me. Meet Frank, the love of my life, the carrier of many of my heaviest load, the listener of my woes, my biggest fan. Frank is a part time United Methodist Pastor at Waverly United Methodist Church, part time college student, and full time assistant manager at Arby's. On top of all this is helps me be a caregiver for my parents. He truly has earned his crown in heaven....with many jewels. Frank is a romantic from the bottom of his great big heart. He proposed to me on the Fourth of July....right after I sang at Thunder on the Hooch in Columbus. When I turned to leave the stage....just as the fireworks went off....there he was...on his knee....holding out his mother's engagement ring. I could have leapt off the stage...and of course I said a hearty, "Yes!" What a guy. He is a very special man. I told him when we started dating that if my daughter did not like him there was not much point in trying to have a relationship.....he won her over almost immediately....but she also won him over. Kat adores Frank and he loves her....as if she were his daughter....just like Amy in the picture. I remember the first time he told her he loved her. They were talking on the phone and he got ready to end the call....and just naturally said....,"I love you." I saw a look of surprise when he realized what he had done....and I saw it become a smile....when I guess she responded to him in kind. That is just what kind of man he is.....loving. He is a true people person. People really like him...and I think that was one of the things that drew me to him....he has an air about him that says....I am good with me. I don't have that aire. I am not always good with me....but when I am with him....I never doubt myself. I want to give the world to him....but it really wouldn't matter. He is tickled with whatever I give him....although I think Disney World would be a big plus. He can make you laugh, has a wonderfully full laugh, and the tenderest tears. He is man enough to be macho....and yet tender enough to cry when someone is hurting or something touches his heart. If I live to be 100 I will be thanking God everyday for this wonderful man. Today is nothing special, it is not our anniversary or anything...it is just Friday and I was sitting here loving him alot and wanted to tell him....and you guys too.

I Am Glad I Am Not A Teenager Again!

Lord, I am so glad I am not a teenager again. I seem to have forgotten the raging hormones, the squabbling over boys, the attitudes, ......and oh yeah...Spring Fever. That I can relate to. I have Spring Fever myself. Maybe that is why the other is driving me nuts right now. Today, for the first time in I can't remember when.....and I am talking about years. I had to call for an administrator to help settle down two girls.....GIRLS! They came into my room....being hateful to each other. I wanted to tell them....HEY! Life is short and you don't need to be so spiteful....but it would not have worked...not at that moment...we were close to blows being exchanged. I hate girl fights. In all the years I have taught....20+ I have broken up many a boy fight.....but a girl fight....look out ....cause you will see me cowering in a corner somewhere. During my internship.....I broke up my one and only girl fight.....I actually got between the two girls fighting....and took one to my room. WHAT WAS I THINKING? Anyways, after I shut the door to my room....I heard something bump the door....when I opened it after the other student had been taken to the office....there....impaled in my door.....was a pair of scissors from Home Ec. I was sick at my stomach....that could have been me those scissors were impaled in. God truly does look out after fools, little children, and interns. My first year on the job....I came up on a boy fright....reached out to grab one of the fighters....and took his elbow in my nose when he drew back to punch.....the punch was never thrown....because he broke my nose....blood splattered everywhere....and I passed out. Great way to stop a fight I can assure you. The boys were shocked and thought I was dead. They grabbed me and rushed me to the school nurse....and I am sure they lived to fight another day. My question is....why do we have to fight? God tells us in Leviticus 19:18 (New International Version) " 'Do not seek revenge or bear a grudge against one of your people, but love your neighbor as yourself. I am the LORD." Today, I am so glad I am dealing with a 50 year old's problems and not those of a teenager. God truly knows what he is doing when he makes teenagers....young! Happy Thursday to You!

The Story of XYZ

So yesterday I got to see Confessions of a Shopaholic.

Yes, I went alone.

No, it doesn’t bother me anymore. At first I’d slink in the theater and feel like a total loser. I felt like the entire theater was staring at me and wondering what was wrong with me.

But now I've realized that no one really gives a crap. Really. So long as you don’t have big hair and block their view, the other theater patrons could care less.

I bought a small popcorn and a medium diet coke and armed with my goodies, I made my way to the theater. When I walked in, no one else was even in there. And the movie started in five minutes. I felt a little weird walking up the stairs and sliding into the middle section.

There was a picture of both Angelina Jolie and Jennifer Aniston on the screen and it was imploring me to text with a number on who looked better.

Hrm.

Angelina had on a dark slinky number with her hair pulled back neatly. I wish my hair would work like that. As it is, I’ve been blessed (cursed?) with ultra thick hair that never wants to cooperate. Unless you fork over $100 for special hair creams which I refuse to do.

Jennifer had on a silver gown with her hair cascading down her back. It must be wonderful to have hair that cascades neatly down your back. Mine puffs out and usually winds up in other people’s mouths. Tom has pulled out a good number of strands that somehow has landed on his tongue.

I decided that Jennifer Aniston looked the best but it could be because I like her better. Maybe I feel a little sorry for, too. I mean, dammit, all she wants is love. Maybe John Mayer will give her that. I don’t know. He sort of creeps me out how he speaks candidly with the paparazzi. It’s like he stops short of talking about what goes on in the bedroom.

“Yes, Jennifer and I fornicated last night. It was awesome,” I can imagine him telling the photogs. Then John will flash a thumbs up sign before disappearing into the hotel where Jennifer will be waiting.

The previews started after that and one for that Hannah Montana movie came on. I am grateful that Tommy doesn’t like her. Plus, I think the show is insulting to children. I think kids would know the difference between Hannah Montana and Miley. All she does is toss on a blonde wig. A blonde wig is not a disguise. Plus, the plot is so predictable. Hannah (Miley? Whoever the crap she is?) gets tossed on a farm and of course she hates it at first. But then, gasp, who knew? She learns to LOVE it.

Again. I’m grateful that I don’t have to shell out eight bucks and sit through it.

Thank you, Tommy, for being a boy.

There was another preview for The Rock’s new movie. You know, the wrestler? Apparently he’s helping two aliens save the planet.

Again, I’ll pass.

I do want to see the new Sandra Bullock movie. I like Sandra Bullock. Unlike a lot of celebrities, she actually eats and seems down to earth and friendly. Probably because she eats. I know I’m horribly cranky when my stomach is growling. I better get some food and stat. Otherwise I start to say words that I normally wouldn’t even use (I once called Tom a fuc*ing twat when I hadn’t eaten in over five hours and I swear, I don’t even know where that came from!)

In the middle of a preview where Matthew Perry turns into Zac Efron (I’m not kidding) a few other people wandered into the room.

Phew. I felt odd being the only one in there. But okay, for a brief second I pretended that I was rich and that I was sitting in my own personal theater room. Hello, I’m Amber and I’m rich. Please join me in my theater with the giant screen.

But then I got paranoid and was wondering if there was a murderer crouched behind a seat in the back and that he was going to attack me when the movie started. Then I’d never find out if the movie was as good as the book. Oh noes! I debated pulling out my keys and holding it like a weapon like various talk shows tell you to do. (“Ladies, protect yourselves!” Oprah once bellowed at the cameras.)

Thankfully, that was when other people came in. There were two old ladies with curly gray hair who took a seat in the row in front of me. Then there was a mother and daughter duo who took seats in the very back. And then, right when the movie started, a man walked in and took a seat by himself near the front.

I was amused by this. I mean, I suppose it must be difficult for men who actually like chick flicks. It’s not manly after all. Maybe he has a secret addiction to chick flicks? I wonder if he was married and if his wife thinks that he’s cheating on her? But no, really he’s just sitting in a darkened theater wanting to know what it’s like to be a shopaholic.

The movie was entertaining. It was different from the book but it was still enjoyable. I could relate to the main character. I admit, I like to shop. But mostly for my children. I can’t help that they make adorable miniature clothes for them, can I? I start to imagine how Tommy would look in that seersucker blazer or if Natalie’s blue eyes would pop out if she wore that sapphire colored patchwork dress.

Obviously I learned nothing from the movie. Because when it was over I went to JC Penney and bought a swimsuit. But I had a reason, I promise! I’ll need it for the summer. My suits from last year are growing shabby. Plus, the size small swimsuits are always swiped up before I get a chance to shop. Then I’m stuck with a size medium, which can still sort of work, but then it makes my butt look extra baggy and fine, I admit it, I have tiny breasts so I have all sorts of extra fabric up top, too. So it really doesn’t work.

Usually, the suits that are left are the size extra smalls (ha, not in a million years! My left butt cheek couldn’t squeeze into an extra small) or an extra large (again, no way, I’d be lost in the suit and Tom would be all, “Amber? Where did you go?”)

So, you see? I HAD to buy the suit. I managed to find a size small bottom (with a skirt because hello, my thighs are nearly as big as a small country) and a size small top (again, not because I’m skinny but because my ta-tas are basically non-existent) and I happily took my suit up to the front to pay.

The cashier was a young-ish looking guy with a shock of blond hair on the top of his head. I could picture him in a strip club stuffing bills into the panties of a stripper. I have no idea why that image came into my head. Sometimes I think there is something seriously wrong with me.

The cashier didn’t seem to notice that I set my swimsuit down on the counter. He was just peering at me with a strange expression on his face. I wondered if I had melted chocolate on my jeans. I wouldn’t be surprised. There is usually some form of food on my clothes by the end of the day.

“Uh…XYZ,” the cashier finally said.

I was baffled. What? Was this some new word that the young kids are using these days? I admit, I’m sort of out of the loop. For the longest time I thought the word emo was the name of a brand new Muppet. I’m still confused when teenagers shout, “Wow, that’s SICK!” when they think something is cool. I mean, I would not think of the word “sick” as being synonymous with finding something to be cool. Sorry. Maybe I’m getting old. But ew, when I think of sick I think of sweat and barf. And in some cases, the squirts. Not cool.

“Um…” I finally responded, not knowing what else to say. “ABC?” It was the first thing that popped in my mind to say. Maybe the guy was high?

The cashier chuckled and looked at me as though I were a complete moron. But hello, he was the one who just spouted letters at me when all I wanted to do was purchase my spiffy new suit. “No,” he said. “I’m trying to say that your fly is down.” Then he gestured and dear gracious, he was RIGHT. My fly was wide open and my red underwear was exposed.

I suppose I should be grateful that I wasn’t going commando. How embarrassing would THAT have been?

And I suppose I should be grateful that I was wearing my new red underwear that I found for 75% off at Target and not the underwear with holes that Tom absolutely hates.

(“Amber,” he told me seriously. “I’m sorry, but these are not sexy,” he said, lifting my swiss cheese looking undergarments up from the laundry basket. But sometimes a lady just wants comfort, you know? And sometimes comfort means having holes in it. Sorry.)

“Oh! Oh, my gosh, I…oh,” I said, all flustered. I turned around and quickly zipped my fly back up and cursed the jeans. Those particular jeans love pushing my fly down if I sit for too long. I have no idea why. It could be because they are a size 3 and really, I ought to be wearing a size 5 but I’m too stubborn to admit it. I don’t know.

I know my face was as red as a beet as I turned around to pay for my swimsuit. I practically hurled my debit card at the cashier, who was smirking. I imagine he would be telling all his bar buddies that some chick in his store had walked around with her fly down.

“Was she wearing cute panties?” one of his friends might ask.

“Not Victoria Secret, I can tell you that,” the cashier will respond knowingly. Because he looked like he got around. If you know what I mean.

“Thanks,” I muttered to the cashier as he handed me my card and receipt. My face was blazing hot at that point and I just wanted to GET OUT OF THERE. I grabbed my bag and stuffed my card into my purse—at least I thought I did but I missed the opening entirely because it clattered to the floor. So I had to bend over and pick it up and I realized that now my butt was poking up beside the check out counter and that the guy was probably getting another chuckle out of me.

Oh, the utter mortification. I ended up just grabbing my debit card and then practically running out of the store.

When I relayed the story to Tom, he burst out laughing.

"Who uses the phrase 'XYZ' these days anyway?" I huffed. I mean, really. "It doesn't even make sense. It stands for examine your zipper and examine starts with an E."

"Well, the X sort of--" Tom began, but when he saw my expression he shut his mouth.

Which was wise of him. I had been through enough.

On PIPs and Crock Pots with Buttons

Oops.

Some people mentioned that on my Parenting List (see previous entry) that I had forgotten to mention that you never get to use the bathroom on your own.

I have no idea why I forgot to mention that.

Maybe because I'm so used to having a child follow me into the bathroom.

Tommy doesn't do it anymore. But what he does do is stand outside the door and decide that he needs to tell me every detail of his life.

"And I don't want to wear regular underwear anymore, Mom. I'd like to wear boxers now, okay? Like Daddy?" was one of his conversations.

Maybe conversation isn't the best word as my responses are usually, "Uh huh," and, "Tommy, do you think I can have some privacy? We can talk when I'm finished."

And Tommy, who has lately been behaving like a PMSing teenager, will sometimes snap, "Nevermind then. I won't ever talk to you AGAIN!"

Well, excuse me, son. I was only trying to take a crap.

Most of the time Natalie wanders in with me though. There have been a few instances where she's been distracted by a toy or yes, shame on me, the television. (I'm always thrilled when I have to poo when Yo Gabbba Gabba is on because it means I get a few precious moments of peace. So what if it's in the bathroom? At least it's quiet.)

[I just had a thought: maybe if I consume a lot of prunes when Yo Gabba Gabba comes on I can have more poops in peace (PIPS)]

I'm jealous of my husband Tom, who can wander into the bathroom at any time and have his space. Heck, when he takes a dump I hear him flipping through a magazine and I'm thinking, "That must be nice. Maybe I'd like to read my US Weekly too."

One time I flipped out and shrieked, "You know what, Tom? I'd like a PIP too!"

His response? "What is a PIP?"

"A poop in peace!" (Or it can stand for a Pee in Peace. I don't get those either.)

I can't blame Natalie for not following Tom in the bathroom though. The stuff that he makes could KILL someone that small, really. He has to seriously spray the Lysol at least one minute so we don't pass out from the stench.

So yeah. PIPs don't happen very often around here.

But anyhow, moving on from the bathroom talk because it's a little gross.

I had to say goodbye to one of my favorite things the other day.

It was just time to let go.

To move on.

I'm sorry, dear Crocky, but you've been upgraded:



Yeah. I love my Crock Pot. But then I realized that there are new versions. Versions with...buttons?

BUTTONS!

I love to push buttons.

When I go down a toy aisle, I push all sorts of buttons. This drives my husband insane.

"Do you HAVE to touch EVERYTHING?" he'll grumble as I reach out to press a Fisher-Price toy.

Yes. Yes, I do.

So when I encountered this new Crock Pot my heart began to beat with excitement.

A Crock Pot. One of my favorite things. With BUTTONS to push.

Another one of my favorite things.

I had to have it.



I immediately rushed home and ordered it from Kohls.com. Because I had a 30% off code AND a free shipping code.

Saving money rocks.



Isn't it beautiful? I wanted the red one but I thought it might turn Tom off. Not that he actually cooks. But suppose he decides to start one day and he's all, "Ew, but it's red, so I can't."

So I went with a neutral gray. To pay homage to my old abandoned Crocky.

I'm sorry, Crocky. But you don't have buttons.

Plus this new Crock Pot, which I've dubbed Crocky the Second, will automatically shut off when the food is done.

Crocky the First would keep on cooking and a lot of the meat came out burnt.

I never knew you could burn things on a Crock Pot. I assumed you could not but of course I manage to burn everything.

No, I haven't used Crocky the Second yet. But I will. I found this chicken dish that basically just calls for cream of mushroom soup and some white wine and that's it.

I can do meals with less than five ingredients. If you start to add weird things such as fresh parsley and stuff, I tend to get confused. I've never even SEEN fresh parsley before. I have some in a plastic McCormick jar I think. But I don't think that's the same thing?

Crocky, if you're wondering, is going to the Salvation Army. Perhaps he'll go to a new home and actually, will most likely be treated better. Crocky had to deal with a lot of frustration from me. I would sometimes forget an ingredient and be all, "Damn!" and quickly uncover the pot and throw the forgotten bits in. I think I stressed Crocky out most of the time.

Crocky the Second is a little worried. I imagine Crocky the First warned him about me.

She doesn't know what she's doing in the kitchen. Beware. She once used salt when the recipe called for sugar. How a person can manage that is beyond me.

So, farewell Crocky the First.

Thank you for all the delicious (albeit some burnt) dishes.

I will miss you.

Your name will live on in Crocky the Second.

Who has ultra-cool buttons to push.

Awesome.

Life Isn't Always Fair, But It's Still Good

A good friend of mine sent me an email yesterday that I just had to share with you guys today. She was once my roommate and my sister-in-law. Now we are friends and I love her like a sister. She has cancer....she is awaiting her insurance company's approval of a drug that costs 15,000 per dose. This drug would give her a 50 - 60% chance of survival.....The first time they were presented with the request they denied it.....now the Dr.'s are appealing.....yet, even with that.....Lucy still has one of the most positive outlooks of anyone I know. She is a survivor....and a Christian. I have always admired her.....so had to give you something to make your day....your week....your life special....from Lucy....today on her 55th birthday!

"Life isn't fair, but it's still good.

Time heals almost everything.

Give time, time.

Dopn't compare your life to others'.

You have no idea what their journey is all about.

You don't have to win every argument.

Agree to disagreements.

Get rid of anything that isn't useful, beautiful or joyful.

Try to make at least three people smile each day.

Each night beforee you go to bed complete the following statements:

"I am thankful for..."

"Today I accomplished..."

Call your family often.

Take a 10 - 30 minute walk every day and while you walk, smile.

Forgive everyone for everything.

Dream more while you are awake.

What other people think of you is none of your business.

Sit in silence for at least 10 minutes each day.

Enjoy the ride.

Remember that this is not Disney World and you certainly don't have a fast pass.

Make the most of it and enjoy the ride.

Smile and laugh more.

It will keep the energy vampires away.

Don't take yourself so seriously.

No one else does.

Realize that life is a school and you are here to learn,

pass all your tests.

Problems are simply part of the curriculum that appear

and fade away like algebra class

but the lessons you learn will last a lifetime.

Your job won't take care of you when you are sick.

You friends will.

Stay in touch.

No one is in charge of your happiness except you.

Life is too short to waste time hating anyone.

Spend more time with people over the age of 70 and under the age of six.

When you wake up in the morning complete the following statement,

"My purpose is to .......today."

Remember that you are too blessed to be stressed.

No matter how youi feel, get up, dress up and show up.

The best is yet to come.

Burn the candles, use the nice sheets.

Don't save it for a special occassion.

Today is special.

Make peace with your past, so it won't mess up the present.

However good or bad a situation is, it will change.

Live with the 3 E's...Energy, Enthusiasm, Empathy,

and the 3 F's...Faith, Family, Friends."

Thank you Lucy for sharing those life reminders with me....and allowing me to share them with others. As always....I learn from you....just as I did when we were younger. You are truly a blessed person and I am blessed to know you.

A Parenting List

Don't me wrong, I do think kids are cute.

I admit that I've marveled at the tiny toes of newborns and laughed at the silly things that can tumble from a child's mouth.

But there is a dark side to parenting.

And I'm prepared to go through a list of some of the things that I've encountered.


1. BE PREPARED FOR INAPPROPRIATE CONVERSATIONS

The other day we were at Target. I was browsing in my favorite spot, the clearance rack, and Tommy was bouncing beside me. "Guess what?" he suddenly said excitedly. "What?" I answered as I checked the price tag for a pair of toddler pants. I assumed that he'd tell me something mundane. He's been learning about teeth at school so I figured he'd spout off on the importance of flossing. I've already been lectured by him because I rarely floss. Sue me. I made the mistake of admitting this to Tommy, who gasped and went, "But Mommy! Floss keeps your teeth healthy!" I thought that's what he'd tell me as I pushed past clothes on the rack. But no. What he said was:

"Anus is another word for butt!"

Of course he said it right when another woman strolled past. She gaped at Tommy as though he had just let loose a string of expletives.

"Tommy," I hissed. "That's not appropriate. Where did you learn that?"

Tommy grinned proudly. "Steven. He's in second grade," he said matter-of-factly.

"Well, tell Steven, who is in second grade, that it's not appropriate to talk about butts at school," I replied firmly.

"We weren't at school, we were on the bus," Tommy answered sweetly.



2. BE PREPARED FOR MISINFORMED CHILDREN

We went to the gas station last night. Not for gas, but for the cheap fountain drinks with cherry shots. We stood in line and Tommy was bouncing up and down beside me. I'm used to this. The kid barely sits still. There was an older lady behind us who was staring at Tommy with wide eyes. Finally she asked Tommy how he had so much energy.

Tommy's reply?

"I have ADHD. It means I never sit and I fart a lot."

Yeah.

I need to re-explain what ADHD means now.



3. BE PREPARED FOR HEART ATTACKS

I've lost count on how many times that I've nearly passed out from worry over my kids.

There was that one time where Natalie did a face plant right on the concrete. I was sure that something had to be broken. (Nothing was.)

And then yesterday, when Tommy didn't return home from school.

The bus stop is across the street and he's recently started walking home by himself. I think he was embarrassed to be the only one with a mother who waited patiently by the bus stop. He told me seriously one day that he was a big kid now and that there was no reason why I needed to wait for him.

"My baby!" I shrieked.

"I'm not a baby anymore," Tommy said calmly.

Fine.

I agreed. He was right. He's nearly seven (on Monday!) and I have to pull back a little bit.

The past few days he's returned home without any issues.

Yesterday, 3:30 came and went and he never showed.

I began to panic.

But I thought, okay, the bus is late.

But then 3:40 rolled around and I was practically in tears. I put Natalie on my hip and darted outside, looking around frantically for my little boy. I rushed towards the direction of the bus stop to see if he was playing in the dirt. He's easily distractable, you see.

But he wasn't there.

So then I hurried back to the house and out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a little figure at a distance beside the house playing in a mound of snow.

I zeroed in on the person and realized it was Tommy.

"TOMMY!" I screamed.

Tommy froze. He was bent over, poised to pick up some snow. But then he spotted his hysterical mother coming at him and he became immobile.

"Tommy, what are you DOING?" I shrieked.

Tommy straighened himself and slowly made his way over to me.

"You need to come HOME first before you play. I was worried SICK!" I continued.

I thought I saw a neighbor poke their face out a window before darting out of view.

Hello. Welcome to the Freak Out show.

"I was worried SICK!" I repeated.

"SICK!" Natalie parroted.

And Tommy, who has always been my sensitive child, burst into tears.

"I'm sorry, Mommy!" he said through sobs. "I just wanted to look at the snow before it melted. I'm SORRY!"

We all walked back into the house. Me, still shaking with worry and Tommy, shaking with his tears and Natalie, shaking her finger in Tommy's direction going, "Sick, sick, sick!"



4. BE PREPARED TO NEVER HAVE YOUR HOUSE FULLY CLEAN FOR A LONG LONG TIME

Seriously.

By the time I've finished cleaning the living room, another room is trashed.

So then I go clean THAT room and then the living room is a mess again.

It's a neverending cycle.



5. KNOW THAT NOTHING WILL EVER JUST BELONG TO YOU AGAIN

I'm not kidding.

My books that I read? They're immediately taken by Natalie.

My cell phone? See above.

My chocolate? See above again.

It's caused me to shriek, "Isn't anything just MINE in this house?" on more than one occasion.

Silly, silly, Amber. The answer is no.



6. UNDERSTAND THAT YOUR HOUSE WILL BECOME A GIANT EASEL





Children are sneaky creatures. The second you go to clean up another one of their messes, they're off doing something like this.

You can try hiding the crayons. But they have a Magic Crayon Finder brain and will always come across one.

Stock up on Mr. Clean Magic Erasers. They will become your best friend.

-------

Chemotherapy Day One

See the handsome white haired man sitting at my dining room table. That man is very special to me. He is my father. The white hair has been there since he was 40....and no, I was not THAT bad a child. He comes from a family of premature grayers. I am 54 and my hair is nearly as white as his. Well, today we had our first round of chemotherapy.....this handsome man has cancer. I went with my mom and him today so I could see if she could handle this without me having to take days off from work. Small problem, my mom does not sit still....we sat reading for about an hour...and then she began to fidget....so while she ran errands and piddled around in town....and I sat and watched the carboplatin and the taxateer drip into my dad's port. He looked so peaceful sitting in his recliner....sleeping.....his gentle face......I occassionally reached out and stroked it only to watch him stir slightly in slumber. I love this man. I wish I could do this for him....but I know I cannot. This is one path he must walk alone. I can cheer him on from the sidelines....and hope that he does not have the bad side effects possible....pray for him....and love him.....and my mom. Cancer is an ugly word. I would not wish this on any family....least of all mine. I know that sounds kind of selfish....but it is honest. Again, I am thankful that I am a Christian....because Psalm 68:19 in the New International Bible tells me " Praise be to the Lord, to God our Savior, who daily bears our burdens. " I don't have to go through this alone. How do people do it who are not believers? I am glad I don't have to find out. I can truly say Happy Tuesday....because I have a loving Father.....and father.

The McDonalds Mistake

Over the weekend I headed to McDonalds for dinner. I admit it, we go there at least once per week. Tom usually always gets two double cheeseburgers--which used to be on the dollar menu but thanks to this economy, they've now been bumped to $1.19 a piece.

I never know what I'm going to get until I get to McDonalds. This tends to irritate Tom who demands to know what I want the second we pull into the drive thru lane. Even if there are a line of cars in front of us, he'll constantly ask what I'm going to get.

"Let me think," I'll say calmly, which causes him to toss his hands in the air with frustration.

Honestly, why do I need to know what I want the second we get to McDonalds? I have my own method: I breathe in the delicious McDonalds smell swirling around the air and then I imagine myself eating different things.

I even take air bites, which Tom thinks is extremely weird.

"Uh? What are you doing?" he asked when we were first dating and had walked into McDonalds. I had just taken a mouth full of air and was trying to determine whether I wanted the chicken nuggets or the quarter pounder with cheese.

"I'm picturing myself eating the nuggets or the quarter pounder and determining which one excites my stomach more," I answered matter-of-factly. I took another bite for good measure.

I know. Sometimes I wonder how I managed to get married too. Most men would have turned and walked away quickly. They would have met up with their friends and been all, "Dude. She was like, eating AIR."

When I went to McDonalds over the weekend I was by myself. I had been set to make spaghetti for dinner but Tom had wandered in the kitchen as I pulled out the hamburger meat and went, "I'm actually not in the mood for spaghetti."

"It's what we're having," I replied in a no-nonsense voice.

But Tom knows how to play me and he said coyly, "How about McDonalds? You can go alone. I'll watch the--"

I was gone before he finished.

The spaghetti noodles in their box thunked to the ground as I headed out the door.

I don't get out by myself very often. So when I'm offered the chance, I always take advantage.

I slid in my beautiful PT Cruiser and backed out of the driveway. I saw Natalie rush over to the window. Her nose was pressed up on the glass and I saw her mouth move a few times.

I imagine she was shouting, "Mom? Mom?"

My heart ached briefly--and, I almost feel bad admitting this--but it really was only briefly because then my heart bubbled with excitement.

You're alone! You get to enjoy a car ride without kids screeching in the background. You can even sing without your son clamping his palms over his ears and proclaiming that your voice is "very very bad." When you get to McDonalds, you won't have to worry about your husband demanding to know what you want to eat.

Is it sad that I was thrilled over the prospect over a ride that would take no more than a half hour?

I started singing to myself as I drove towards the golden arches.

"You're hot and you're cold, you're yes and you're no, yah yah yah, we kiss and make up and fight and break up!" I sung/half wailed. Because yes, I admit it, my voice sounds like a cross between a "bah-ing" goat and an irritated cat. I've made my peace with the fact that I'll never win a grammy or be a star on American Idol. Well, maybe I could be one of those William Hung stars if I didn't mind humiliating myself in front of millions of views. But I do mind.

When I got to McDonalds I headed for the drive thru lane. There was only one car in front of me and I glanced at the menu to see what looked better.

Nuggets with honey?

Or a quarter pounder with cheese?

Or did I want to branch out and go with a Big Mac. Mmmm, the picture looked tasty. But then I remembered that they stuff the burger with lettuce and while I enjoy ruffage, I'd rather have more meat, you know?

I did my famous air bite and my stomach seemed to respond more to the quarter pounder with cheese.

So I went with that.

Plus I got Tom's double cheeseburgers, a hamburger Happy Meal for Tommy and a chicken nugget Happy Meal for Natalie. With the apple fries because she seems to prefer those to actual fries. I really don't know where she came from. I mean apple fries to real fries? Huh? I made sure to specify that one toy was for a boy and the other was for a girl. Because they had mini video games for boys and jewelry stuff for girls and heaven forbid if Tommy got a princess watch.

It happened before and he was so insulted.

"But I'm a BOY!" he screeched, holding the offending girl toy between his thumb and forefinger as though it were a mouse.

Natalie could care less at this point. Heck, she's intrigued by the quarter pounder with cheese box to be honest. I could give her that and she'd entertain herself for at least five minutes, opening and closing the thing and telling me seriously, "He sleep," after sticking one of her mini My Little Pony's in there.

My total came to twelve something so I pulled out a twenty as I stopped in front of the payment window.

"That'll be two fifty-eight," the worker told me and stretched her hand out for the money.

Huh?

Now, I WISH all that food would come to two fifty-eight. But it's 2009 and that sort of thing will never happen.

And because I believe in Karma (and, you know, being a good and honest person) and knew Karma would totally pop my tire on the way home if I didn't speak up, I explained that my total was supposed to be twelve something.

The worker recoiled her hand back and typed on her computer.

"Oh," she said. "You're right."

As I gave her the proper amount I thought about that show What Would You Do? which airs on ABC on Tuesday nights. The show basically has a bunch of different segments--one was where a woman left her baby in the backseat of a car while she went to shop and it basically shows the reaction of people who walk by. (Don't worry, the baby was a doll and the woman was an actress.)

Some people do nothing.

Others speak up.

They have segments like the one I had just experienced too. Once at a grocery store the cashier purposely gave $20 more back in change and the cameras waited to see who would return the money.

Most people did not.

Then when the cameras popped out and they were asked why they didn't return the money some people were all, "Well, it was the store's mistake!"

Some pretended not to have noticed even though the camera clearly caught them staring at the extra money and inwardly debating what to do about it.

So, okay, I admit it, I was wondering if the show had set up in Cheyenne, Wyoming and was checking to see how honest its citizen were.

I wasn't about to look like an ass on national television. I didn't want John Quinones (the host of the show) to leap out of the bushes with a microphone in hand and demand to know why I didn't pay the proper amount.

Then I pulled up to get my food. And they had an extra quarter pounder with cheese in my bag. And instead of a kid's size HI-C orange they gave me a medium.

Okay John Quinones. The jig is up. I know you're here.

"Excuse me," I told a worker who practically hurled my bag at me and was retreating her upper body back inside. She looked irritated and leaned back out.

"What?" she barked.

Sheesh.

You're on national television. You COULD be a little more cheerful. That could be another segment: How Would YOU react if a McDonalds worker behaved as though she had a Big Mac stuck up her arse?

"Um, I only ordered one quarter pounder with cheese and this HI-C orange should be a Kid Size," I explained.

She blinked at me for a few seconds as though she couldn't comprehend what I was saying. Then it seemed to register because she shrugged and went, "Oh, keep it. I'll just have to throw them out anyhow since I already handed them over."

Why?

It's not like I spit in them or anything. Plus, my car is clean. I can understand them being wary about people with cigarette butts and litter sprinkled around their car. But I pride myself in keeping my car clean. Well, sort of clean. It's not PERFECT but at least people aren't sitting on trash or anything.

"Are you sure?" I asked.

She gave a long sigh. "Positive," she replied sarcatically and then disappeared behind the swinging windows.

Geez lady. John Quinones might have to ask you what bug flew up your nostril.

I pulled away and nearly expected to find cameras suddenly appear. And John Quinones strolling out from behind a bush.

"You did the right thing," he'd praise. "Why?"

"Because my parents raised me properly," I imagined myself answering. "And it's the right thing to do." Then I'd flash a wide smile.

But no cameras morphed into my vision.

There was no John Quinones.

It was just McDonalds making mistakes.

Oh well.

Bless Her Little Heart

I love my daughter. Isn't she cute here? She was 2 in this picture and it was made 26 years ago. Time sure did fly.....I was having so much fun and I woke up one morning and she was a bride. She is probably one of the most precious people who breathes on the earth. When she enters a room the room lights up with her effervescence. Everyone that meets her thinks she is special, so it is not just the fact that I am her mom, other people believe it too. I have always felt sorry for her though....because I was her mom. You must understand.....I am not a hair fixing, make-up wearing, fashion statement kind of mom....so she had no training in that area....what she got....she got from her friends. Her hair....unless someone else did it....was always filled with little bows I made....and never french braided....because I can't. There I said it! I can't french braid. I have never used a curling iron on myself....so how could I teach her to use one? I am au naturale....what you see is what you get.....so bless her little heart....there was no mom to teach her the rudiments of makeup and eyelash curlers. I used to look at my friends little girls and wish that Kat could have a mom more like them....but she didn't.....she had me! You know the funny thing....no matter how many lessons she did not get in the finer concepts of hair doing and makeup wearing she turned out ok....inspite of me. 1 Peter 3:3 says, "Do not let your adornment be merely outward-arranging the hair, wearing gold, or putting on fine apparel." I wish I could say this was why I am like I am....but I it isn't. I just never liked gunk on my face. Kathryn has matured into such a lovely young woman....she has God in her heart and in her house....and her outward appearance....well it is just a representation of what is on the inside. She is beautiful...inside and out. I learned a valuable lesson from her when she had her 28th birthday. It did not matter to her that I could not fix her hair....or that I did not show her all about wearing makeup....what mattered to her most was that I loved her....and was there for her.....through successes and through failures......and you know....I have a heavenly Father who is there for me....no matter what....and he does not care either that I cannot fix hair like other women do....or that I can't make up a Cover Girl face....what matters to Him is that I spend time with Him...and love Him with all my heart. Thank goodness His mirror is skewed! Whew....it is a good thing that beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

Happy Monday to you all....and to all a good night!

Why Me? Why Her?

Does Altzheimer's affect the brain like schizophrenia or a multiple personality disorder? What exactly does Altzheimers do to a person? Why, oh why does my mother seem like several different people? She changes personalities on a daily basis like someone would change their underwear. Sometimes she's a sweet granny type person. Sometimes she's an old woman about to take her last breath. Sometimes she is loving. Sometimes she is cruel. Some days she likes certain foods, many days she does not remember ever eating that particular food, and other days she hates those foods. Is it just a matter of losing memories? When my dad had a pace maker installed my daughter and I heard her telling her pastor a story....yes, we both were eavesdropping at it's finest. Anyways, she told the pastor about when she went to Auburn and was working on her Master's Degree. She went on to tell him how she took my daughter Kathryn with her to Kiddie College. Well....this would have been a great story....if it had been her. It wasn't her memory...it was mine. I went to Auburn and took Kat....my mom has a G.E.D. She never even finished high school. She and my father came live with my husband and I in 2005 after my dad had a serious illness and needed to be watched. My mother was still working at the time. My husband is a saint....believe me. My mom is not an easy person to be around for the most part. It just depends on who is there that day. It is scary.


My dad has no short term memory....he had the pace maker installed in May of 2006 and woke up not knowing what day it is, what year it is, what time it is, where the bathroom was at the house, and what to do once he was in the bathroom, and asking repetitive simple questions. He forgets to eat....because he forgets short term stuff. Now...he can tell you what wire nut he used on house 25 years ago...no problem....he just can't remember....he has cancer and is taking chemo. Every day he wants to know why he has to go to the doctor's office. Maybe in 25 years it will click....but back to her....



Sometimes she goes to bed early at night and wakes before 6 in the morning....getting up countless time to use the bathroom. Other times she goes to bed late and sleeps til 8 and may not get up at all. She often does the opposite of what she needs to do. She seems to be slipping more and more everyday. She can't remember how to cook food she always did. She can't remember how to cut the oven on. She can't remember how to turn the iron on. She can't remember simple things that were told to her recently. Like what time I will be home without asking the question, "Now, what time will you be home?" dozens of times. My dad eats waffles and microwaved bacon for breakfast every day. I think she serves...because she remembers how to fix it. I do all the cooking, well Frank cooks sometimes too,....my mom sets the table and washes the dishes. She has quit driving in big cities....but still drives around our little town and to my aunt's house. I am waiting for the day I have to take that away from her and dreading it. We took my dad's keys away from him two years ago...and he does not even remember that.



Have I mentioned before that they have lived with us for 4 years now. On a daily basis I wonder how much longer I'll be able to keep going, just handling the day to day things. I don't want it to end. In spite of it all, I love them being here. But can Frank and I handle it if it gets worse, or I should say, when it gets worse. I am a teacher....I teach for a living.....and their health is draining my sick leave bank. This year already I have taken 9 days due to illnesses - theirs. I am an only child...they have no other choice. Frank and I decided we would set aside us time once a week. I get someone to check in on my parents and we have a date. If we had not been doing this....I don't think we would still be married....I did say already that mom was not easy to live with didn't I?



One particularly bad day...Frank got me in the car for one of our "dates." We drove to Auburn and I cried most of the way there....In desperation, I finally asked, "What could be worse?"....Frank's soft and profound remark left me laughing hysterically....humor is the best medicine. Frank said, 'My parents could live with us too." Lord help me but I actually felt a wave of relief that both of his parents are dead. He then told me to look up a passage...Philippians 4:13 - "I can do everything thought Him who gives me strength" (NIV). I am so glad I am a Christian....I can't imagine doing this alone....without God. Well, the journey will get rockier I am sure....but thanks to God, Frank, and blogging....I will survive! Thank you Jesus!

Drew Hughes is Here.....Finally!

Look at that sweet face. We have new baby number two! Thomas Andrew Hughes (Drew) made his appearance into the world last night. He arrived by C-section after a long and tiring day of trying to get here. He weighed in at 6 pounds and 1.4 ounces and is 20 inches long. He was born at 8:55 p.m. on Feb. 20th. He is so tiny. According to my cousin, singing partner, Amanda he has lots of hair and it looks curly. He is a doll. His daddy looks like Mr. Incredible and his mom is lovely. Both of them are beautiful inside and out. As of 10:00 p.m. both mom and son were fine. Grandy(Grandfather Randy) sounded tired....but relieved. God is truly good to my family these days and with the birth of this new precious little one....I began to reflect on a song my cousin Amanda wrote that we sing. It is called "Life Goes On." Most people call it Katie's song. Amanda has been a labor and delivery nurse forever....and loves it. She is one of those people who loves what she does...and loves bringing those little ones into the world. Anyways...one night about 15 years ago, while working, the floor was almost empty and two sets of nurses were there....so in order to save some money....they sent half the nursing staff home. Amanda stayed. One end of the floor was ICU and the other was Labor and Delivery. She noticed a woman walking between the two ends .......and after talking to her...wrote this song. It took us a year to sing it without crying. It is probably our most requested song. The story is this:

Life Goes On (Katie's Song)

It was almost 9 o'clock when Joe brought Katie to the floor

He said, "I'm not sure but I think it's time for the baby to be born."

With a fearful look Katie asked, "Is everything alright?"

With a knowing look and a loving smile the nurse said, "You'll have this child tonight."

Down the hall in another room another Katie lay

Pale and tired she drew a ragged breath and her family stood to pray.

With a fearful look her daughter asked, "Will mama be alright?"

With a knowing look and a loving hand the nurse said, "I don't think she'll last the night."

Life goes, and life goes on

We are all part of a bigger plan to which we all belong

Heaven knows, we're not here for very long

Life goes and life goes on.

All through the night the daughter prayed and waited for the sun

Then she'd walk down the hall and say to Joe, "How's Katie doin' son?"

And I realized what pain and joy this family must be in.

Waiting for a life to end and a new life to begin.

She said my daughter Katie is my mother's namesake

And when mama knew her time was short she said this vow I'll make,

"That I'll be here when this child comes into the world

And I hope with all my heart that it's a girl."

Just before the dawn I heard a shout and Joe said, "Thank You Lord."

And they all rejoiced and marveled at the child that had been born.

Then the daughter slipped down to Katies room as the sun broke through the sky

Kissed her brow, said it's a girl, and Katie breathed her last goodbye.

Life goes and life goes on.

We're all part of a bigger plan to which we all belong

Heaven knows, we're not here for very long

Life goes and life goes on.

Life goes and life goes on.

The bittersweet part of this is that my dad and Amanda's mom both have lung cancer. The day they were both diagnosed....I heard this song in my head. The nights both Wheeler and Drew were born the song was present again. God is so good and sometimes He uses our own words to remind us that He is in control. We all are a part of a bigger plan.....and we are not here for eternity....and life truly does go on.....inspite of the bad, the good, the sad, the happy....it goes and goes on. Wow....what a powerful concept to ingest. Thanks God for the reminder. Happy Saturday all!

Only At Wal-Mart...

So a few people mentioned that I ought to tell Tom that I'm pregnant in order to scare him. (See previous entry if you have no idea what I'm talking about.)

I've already tried that.

I casually mentioned that my period was late and that I might be pregnant awhile back.

Tom's reply?

"Great!"

Of course it was followed by, "This means we get a bigger house!"

Tom has said that he wouldn't mind if we had another baby. But of course he'd say that. He doesn't have to get fat or walk on swollen ankles or push a human being from his privates. He doesn't have to deal with sore nipples or sleep deprivation. Sure, he was a help with Natalie but he would conveniently not hear the baby when she woke up screaming at three in the morning.

So yeah, if I didn't have to do any of that, having another baby might seem like a great idea to me as well.

I'm still working on an idea to scare him. I'll get him at some point.

But anyhow, today I went to Wal-Mart because I decided that I needed to get some bikini wax cream so I could clean up.

Down there.

It’s been awhile since I’ve tended to that area. I figure that my legs get top priority and by the time I’m finished with them I start to panic and think that Natalie must be hanging from the ceiling fan so I don’t go any further. Actually, to be honest, Natalie is usually in the bathroom with me while I shave. She finds it amusing to stand on top of the toilet and make faces in the mirror.

So I usually end up forgoing that area because A) I don’t want to traumatize my daughter and B) I don’t have the time. I’ve asked Tom what he would prefer to be taken care of, my legs or my he haw and he opts for the legs.

I decided that tonight I would surprise Tom and, erm, groom. This meant I had to go to Wal-Mart and get the Bikini Zone stuff that I used before. It makes sure you’re not left with those unsightly red bumps. I didn’t realize that I had used the last of it when we went to the beach in August. When I was digging through my drawer of stuff I found the near empty bottle and realized that there was no way a little squirt was going to take care of...well, all of that.

So off to Wal-Mart I went. And I realized I couldn’t find the Bikini Zone stuff. I was going down aisle after aisle and it was driving me insane. Natalie was growing impatient and she started to stand up in her cart seat.

“You have to sit,” I told her in my best Mom voice.

“I play,” she replied and draped a leg over the cart handle and attempted to get down.

“No, we’re not playing. We’re looking for something. You have to SIT,” I said firmly.

Natalie was not having it. Her patience was gone. So I had to hoist her on my hip and push the cart with one hand. Which is not easy in Wal-Mart because there are people everywhere. I nearly ran into the following:

--An old lady checking out a Preparation H box (which made me think of Austin Powers. "I will call it...Preperation H." "You might as well call it Operation Ass Cream." "What?")

--A little boy who seriously morphed out of no where and nearly became forever embedded into the ground

---A display of diet pills (the experts say they don't work.)

--A woman yakking on her cell phone and not bothering to pay attention to where she was going. She was seriously involved in a conversation about someone name Jose because she was all, "Jose said that...but Jose wants to...Jose wanted hot dogs but there are like fifty brands of hot dogs here..."

And a Wal-Mart worker who looked like she was marking things down. I stopped about a centimeter away from her and asked if she knew where I could find bikini wax cream. Yes, I was a little embarrassed asking. Because I was basically admitting that hey, I’m a mess down there and I need help.

But the worker didn’t even pause from gathering a bunch of shampoos and dumping them in an empty cart beside her. She just went, “Crotch creams are down thataway,” and gestured with her thumb.

Huh?

Crotch creams?

I swear, no one in Target would ever use the words “crotch” and “creams” in the same sentence. Sometimes walking into Wal-Mart is like walking into a whole different world. I imagine that the workers there are used to customers saying things like, "I've got the shits. Where is the medicine for that?"

“No,” I said, finding my voice after being appalled for a few seconds. “I need bikini wax cream.”

Once again, the lady didn’t even pause in what she was doing.

“Lubricants are down that aisle,” she said, pointing in another direction.

Was she even HEARING me? I imagine if I had said something like, "Look, lady, I just want to surprise my husband so it doesn't look like I have a squished kitten between my legs," that she would comprehend.

But obviously I wasn't going to say THAT.

“No, I already have some of that stuff,” I said, before thinking. Then I felt my face grow warm. Ew, now she was going to think of me as some sex fiend or something.

But this caught her attention. She actually paused in marking down a shampoo bottle and actually looked at me as though she were shocked at what I had to say.

Please lady, you used the words crotch and cream.

“What is it that you need?” the lady finally asked impatiently. She leaned against the cart and gave a long sigh.

“Bikini wax cream,” I repeated for what seemed like the millionth time. “You know, for when you wax, um...your bikini area.” And then I added to making a fool of myself by actually making a shaving motion. Right by my, um, area.

I was sure that my face resembled a cherry at that point.

But my bizarre charade seemed to make the lady’s mind click because she was all, “Go down the deodorant aisle. That stuff should be down there.”

Then she turned around and went back to her task.

“Thanks,” I said to her back and then headed for the proper aisle.

And then there it was, my Bikini Zone stuff. I had gone down that aisle, for the record, but I must’ve missed it. Maybe because there was only one bottle left. I’m not sure. Apparently a lot of people are at work keeping their he haws neat.

Then I went to check out and I managed to spend $90 when I had only come in for the Bikini Zone stuff.

How does that happen?

I suppose I really didn't need the new couch pillows. But the ones we have now are stained and disgusting. I hate when things get stained. I'd like to say the pillows are messy due to the children. But no, that would be my husband, who likes to gobble down snacks on the couch and said snacks drop on my pillows and apparently it's too much of a chore to get up and grab a paper towel.

I guess I really didn't need the chocolate cake. But it practically had my name on the package. Mmmm chocolate fudge cake. Amber, buy me. I promise not to expand your thighs and I won't tell your WiiFit.

Maybe I didn't really need the fruit platter. But I felt guilty over buying the chocolate cake and figured the fruit would balance out the chocolate. Yeah, it would have been cheaper to just buy the fruit and cut it myself. But I hate cutting things. To be honest, I usually end up cutting myself. So in order to keep my digits, I try to buy things that are already sliced.

Natalie INSISTED on the Toodee shirt. It was on clearance for $3 and she practically danced out of her seat when she saw it.

"TOOOOODEEEEE!" she yelped, pointing wildly. "TOOODEEE!"

This lady who was looking at clothes beside me glanced up and went, "How sweet. She's letting you know she went doodie."

Uh.

"Actually, it's a character off this creepy show called Yo Gabba Gabba," I explained.

I didn't say that when Natalie takes a dump, she stomps over to me, hurls a diaper in my direction and says gruffly, "I poops." Then she lays down and looks at me expectantly. Well, come on then. Don't dilly daddle. Clean me!

I HAD to get Tom's energy drinks. Those are $6 for a four pack. He says he needs them to stay alert at work.

Okay fine, I DIDN'T need the pink jelly beans. But I made the mistake of going down the Easter aisle and they had Easter goodies sorted into colors. There was yellow, green, orange, blue and pink.

Buy In Color! a sign boasted.

Neat.

Natalie begged for a bright pink lollipop that was nearly as big as her head. It was $1, so I obliged. I figured it would make for a cute photo prop. While she's going to town with the oversized treat, I'll snap away.

Basically, I needed everything I bought.

I swear it!

Wanna Be An American Idol

I was visiting one of my favorite blog sites, , and she had been window shopping at another blog site and found a challenge. I had to pick up the gauntlet and do it too...since today is Friday and so I found myself at Mama's Losing It. I had to chose number 1 for my challenge:

1. If you were starring on American Idol TONIGHT and HAD to sing, what song would you choose and why. I do sing and so I have of course always dreamed of being on something like American Idol...only the fear of rejection has always kept me from trying. I really don't like the way Simon treats the singers. I lived a life not measuring up in my mothers eyes....so I don't need anyone else to tell me I am good....or bad. I would sing "You Raise Me Up" by Josh Groban. I love the song and do it very well. I think the message it has is so powerful. I guess I could say it is my mantra song. I want my family and friends to know that I believe the lyrics with all my heart. The first verse and chorus are so powerful:

When I am down and, oh my soul, so weary;

When troubles come and my heart burdened be;

Then, I am still and wait here in the silence,

Until you come and sit awhile with me.

You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains;

You raise me up, to walk on stormy seas;

I am strong, when I am on your shoulders;

You raise me up: To more than I can be.

The song lets ME know that I can soar with the eagles and do not have to walk on the ground with the turkeys. Happy Friday!

The Adventures of (Trying To) Scare Tom

I scare easily.

People who have met me in real life know this. The slightest noise can make me jump. It doesn’t bother me though. Usually if a stranger causes me to yelp, they apologize profusely and I have to assure them that I’m okay, that I’m used to it.

I have no idea why I’m like this. I just am. Tom finds this hilarious. He likes to make sudden noises and jump out of closets. Then he’ll collapse into loud guffaws and gasp out that he’s sorry but that he’s never seen anything like it before.

“You’d think after being married for seven years that it would get old. It doesn’t,” Tom said, clutching his stomach while he laughed. He had just leaped out of the closet and had caused me to screech at the top of my lungs and rush out of the room with my arms straight up in the air.

It’s hard to imagine that he was so careful not to startle me when we were first dating. I remember he approached me at my locker one day after we had been going out for a week. I had been grabbing the dreaded Algebra book and then I slammed the locker door—and he was standing right there.

“EEEEE!” I went and nearly hurled the textbook at his face.

Tom looked horrified as he shielded his face in case I did let go of the Algebra book. “I’m so sorry,” he stammered. “I tried to be quiet. The last time I came up behind you, you did the same thing.”

He soon learned that I’d startle no matter what he did. And when he realized that being wired like a frenzied Chihuahua didn’t bother me, he didn’t take as much care when he approached me.

We should probably record my antics. I imagine we could win some money on America’s Funniest Home Videos. I’m always laughing at the ones where people shriek and rush out of the room. Then I feel better because I do the same thing. Of course, in their case, there is usually a person shoved into a cupboard wearing a mask. So when the other person opens it they’re met with a gruesome face staring back out at them. I think I’d practically go into convulsions if someone tried to do that to me.

Anyhow, I got it in my mind that I needed to scare Tom. I suddenly craved to see him startle and to possibly emit a yelp. I decided that I’d bounce up from my hiding spot beside the bed when Tom walked out of the bathroom after showering. I crotched down when I heard the shower switch off and covered my mouth to keep from giggling. The anticipation was bubbling in my stomach and I couldn’t wait to see Tom jump back in surprise.

Tom opened the bathroom door and steam wafted around him as he strolled out with the towel wrapped around his waist.

“BOO!” I screamed, throwing my hands out and curling my fingers as though they were claws.

Tom didn’t even flinch. He behaved as though he expected me to be there. “Hi Amber,” he said casually, opening the drawer to pull out some boxers.

Then, and I’m almost embarrassed to admit this, I ended up scaring myself.

How?

Well, when I had bounced up from my hiding spot I must’ve knocked off one of the frames that were hanging on the wall. Because a few seconds after I tried to scare Tom, the picture went clattering to the ground.

Which made ME jump.

I mean, seriously? I go and try to scare someone else and I end up scaring MYSELF?

This could only happen to me.

I was not giving up though.

I tried to startle Tom later that night. When he was digging through the fridge I rushed in behind him and made an eerie “bwa-ha-ha” noise.

“Are you sick?” came Tom’s reply.

He didn’t even flinch. He just pulled out a Fanta and popped it open while looking at me with an expression that clearly showed that he thought of me as a certifiable nut.

“Why won’t you jump?” I shrieked. “Why can’t I scare you?”

Tom shrugged. “I don’t scare easily.”

It was probably because he was trained to expect the unexpected. As a military cop, he’s gone through class after class where he’s learned battle tactics. He’s probably just become immune to being startled.

I’ve tried to scare him in other ways too. I figure if I can’t get him to yelp, then I can at least alarm him.

So I casually said something like, “Michael Phelps came by and professed his love for me. We’re running off together.”

Tom’s reply? “While you’re out, could you pick up some Little Debbie snack cakes? We’re out.”

I just assumed he didn’t take me seriously because hello, I probably won’t ever meet Michael Phelps and he’s aware of this. If I ever did meet him, my tongue would become twisted in my mouth and I’d probably say something stupid like,

“So, I see you have big feet. You know what they say about men with big feet…” and then I’d turn a shade of scarlet and be kicking myself for saying such a thing. I mean honestly, who SAYS things like that? Me, that’s who. I mean, when Tom and I were first dating and he played football, I stupidly asked if he had to wear those crotch things in his uniform.

“Jock straps?” Tom wondered, raising his eyebrows in confusion.

“Er...yes?” I answered, wishing that the ground would swallow me up and put me out of my misery.

Because seriously. WHO ASKS THINGS LIKE THAT?

But anyhow, Michael Phelps, if he wasn’t totally disgusted, might smirk and be all, “No. What DO they say about people with big feet?” and enjoy watching me squirm and turn purple.

“Umm..that they’re smart of course. Um. Yeah. Oh, my cell phone is ringing,” I’d lie, digging into my purse.

Michael will look confused. “I didn’t hear—”

But by then, I’d have slinked away with the phone pressed to my ear even though no one had called in the first place.

Then Michael would Twitter something like, “Met weird fan. She asked about my feet.”

And in future interviews when he’s asked about the weirdest person he’s ever met, he’d be all, “Well, there was this girl who said something like, ‘you know what they say about people with big feet.’ I never realized people actually spoke like that.”

But anyhow, since Tom didn’t take Michael Phelps seriously I decided to use a real person.

“Tom, I’ve decided to run off to Hawaii with my ex-boyfriend!”

Tom just flipped through his magazine. “Could you pick up a souvenir if you go to Pearl Harbor? I’ve always want to go.”

UGH.

Just UGH.

“TOM!” I shouted. “Does ANYTHING scare you?”

He set his magazine down. “Not really. Why? Does that bother you?”

“YES!” I practically screamed.

Tom shrugged. “I just don’t get scared easily.”

“But it didn’t even bother you when I said that I was leaving with another man,” I pointed out.

“I want you to be happy. If that means going off with someone else then I’m not going to stop you,” Tom answered.

Huh?

“But that’s not what being in love MEANS!” I wailed passionately. “You fight for the person.” When I said the word fight, I put my hand in a fist and punched the air for emphasis.

Tom shrugged again. “Why? Life is short and you should be happy. If you found someone else, sure I’d be sad, but I’d be fine.”

No girl wants to hear that. They want to hear that their former mate will be miserable and rolling around in bed in their own filth because they’re so distraught they can’t bring themselves to shower.

“I’d fight for you,” I pointed out gruffly. At this point I had plopped on the couch beside him and had angrily crossed my arms over my chest. In short, I was pouting.

“You won’t ever have to fight for me. I’m not going anywhere,” Tom said matter-of-factly.

“But just in case some hot soldier comes onto you and—” I started.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Tom repeated. He reached out and tried to take my hand. I sat back into the couch so that I was out of reach. I mean, my plans to frighten Tom had failed miserably and I was told that there would be no sword fights for my honor if another man tried to move in.

Okay, fine, I didn’t really expect sword fights. I probably thought about that because I was watching a few episodes of The Tudors and that’s just how things were done back then. These days I imagine fights are done via text messages or something.

“BCK OFF MY GRL.”

“Y? SHE’S HPY WTH ME.”

“I do love you very much,” Tom’s voice cut through my thoughts. He had scooted closer to me and had tossed an arm over my shoulders.

“Nothing REALLY scares you?” I asked meekly. It really was driving me insane.

Tom cocked his head to the side and thought for a few seconds. “Actually,” he replied. “Something does.”

My eyes lit up. “What?” I demanded. I wondered if he was going to admit to a fear of hobbits or something.

“I’m scared that Natalie will be upset with me for leaving,” Tom admitted. I could see his expression was slightly troubled. He even pretended to pick off an imaginary piece of lint from his pants. “I’ll be gone for two months. What if she hates me for it?”

My heart melted a little bit. Aw! He loves his little girl! Everyone loves a man who adores his daughter.

See, Tom will be gone for two months come April for dog training school. I can understand why Tom would be worried. After all, Natalie sometimes grows annoyed when he’s been at work all day. She’ll march over to him and tell him off in her baby language and then flounce away in a huff.

She forgives him fairly quickly though. All he has to mention is the h-word (horsie) and everything is fine again.

“Don’t worry. She’ll forgive you,” I told Tom firmly. I grabbed one of his hands. “I’ll just explain that you’re working. And when you call, you can talk to her.”

Tom pulled a face. “She’ll probably hang up on me.”

Well, maybe. I wouldn’t put it past Natalie.

“I’ll keep reminding her that we’ll be seeing you when you graduate in June. I’ll make it fun, an adventure,” I promised.

Tom gave a long sigh. “I just hope she forgives me.”

I gave him a side hug. “She will. She adores you.”

There was a silence. I was resting my head on Tom’s chest and listening to him breathe softly.

“One day, Tom,” I vowed as he held me. “I’m going to scare you. I’ll figure something out.”

Tom chuckled. “Sure. You might as well give up. I told you, I don’t scare easily.”

“I’ll figure something out,” I repeated sternly.

And I will.

Someday.

Charles Wheeler Brown

Welcome to the family little Charles Wheeler Brown. I blogged earlier in the year that my cousin and singing partner, Amanda was expecting two grand babies this year. Daughter, Ramona and daughter-in-law, Suzanna were both due in Feb. and nearly on the same day. Early Sunday morning, the call from Louisville came and Amanda and Randy headed to Louisville....they had been in Panama City checking in on Ramona. In the wee hours of Monday morning, Feb. 15th, little Charles Wheeler came into our lives. He weighed in at 8 pounds and 15 ounces and was a whopping 22 inches long. Mother and son were both fine. I got a text message from Suzanna and David later in the day and glowed for hours. I cannot wait to hold this new life in my hands. I love David and his wife and Ramona and Dustin as if they were my own. A brand new life. What a visual image that God truly exists. How can anyone stare in the face of a baby....and believe that God does not exist. I cannot fathom that. Late breaking news.....Amanda is now on her way back to Panama City....for the birth of little Thomas Andrew Hughes. How exciting. Two babies in one week. I get chills just thinking about it. I will do a post about Drew when he gets here and I have pictures to share. God is amazing....in the deepest throes of my hurt and anguish....he sent me babies to let me know that all is right with the world. Happy Thursday!

My Reality Check Bounced!

Yesterday, I met my parents at the Cancer Center for the final consultation before beginning chemo. I was feeling pretty optimistic when we got there and were called back to wait in the room. Dr. Murphy came in and was pleasant as always......and I relaxed....after a brief question and answer period....and an explanation of squamish cell carcinoma....he moved us into the chemo area....to see what we were facing. He opened a door....and I felt my legs grow roots. There....looming in front of me was the chair that you sit in while the big green monster invades your body. I could barely breathe. They had my dad sit down and went over all the bad things that can happen to people who take chemo.....but don't always.....I did not hear that....all I heard was the bad. We then were ushered into the radiation area....for a simulated version of what was going to happen there. I looked at my watch and realized I had to return to school.....so I hugged my parents and left....only to physically bump into dr. Jahraus - the radiation oncologist. I looked in his gentle eyes...and came apart at the seams. He took me into a room...and talked with me about what was happening. I explained...this is my father....I am a daddy's girl.....I love this man with all my heart. He understood....and talked about God with me. Reality hit. Here I was....a professing Christian....and not trusting God at the moment. I was ashamed of myself. Later in the day he emailed me a scripture reference from Jeremiah. I opened my bible in the quiet of my house....and read these words: Jeremiah 29:11-13 - "For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart." I smiled as I finished the passage. Said a quiet prayer for my family.....and then....put on my big girl panties....because God and I are ready to deal with this....and no matter what the outcome.....I CAN, and I WILL seek Him continuously. God Bless the Doctors at the Cancer Center and all the patients that put their trust in them....they truly are blessings of God.

The Evil WiiFit

I have a love/hate relationship with my WiiFit.

Mostly hate.

It tells me on a daily basis that I'm unbalanced.

It asks me if I fall down when I walk.

It chastises me if I skip a day of working out.



See?

Okay, so I skipped THREE days.

But I was busy.

Seriously.

This house doesn't clean itself. Even though my husband seems to think it does. I believe he imagines that tiny faeries fold and put away his laundry.

Then the WiiFit told me bluntly that I had gained weight and asked me this:



I was tempted to simply switch off the WiiFit and walk away. I don't have to put up with abuse from a freakin' video game!

But curiousity got the better of me so I pushed A:



The WiiFit didn't have "Because I nearly ate an entire cookie cake" as a selection.

So I picked Night Snacking. Even though I rarely night snack. Okay fine, I occasionally do. Mostly on Fridays. Because, hello, it's FRIDAY. TGIF? I'm celebrating the end of the week.



I got a lecture on Night Snacking. I told the WiiFit "Duh." I tend to speak to it as though it's a live being.



Then it mentioned cocoa and I got excited. Cocoa=chocolate which equals Reeses!

Right?

Okay, I know that's not what EvilFit meant.

But a girl can dream, okay?

Are You One Of The Lucky 5?

The Goods Continue from my good friend at Simply b, Simply Me -

I found this in on her blog this morning.....and thought....hey I am a crafty person....I will do the same thing. How fun will this be....well....only if 5+ people post I guess....but I have never done anything quite so out there so here it goes.

Are you one of the Lucky 5? Lucky you!

The first five people to respond to this post will get something made by me! My choice. For you. This offer does have some restrictions and limitations:1. I make no guarantees that you will like what I make! (Though I hope you will!)2. What I create will be just for you.3. It'll be done this year {might be a little while}4. You get no clue what it's going to be. It may be a story. It may be poetry or maybe even some creation I haven't even invented yet. I may draw or paint something. I may bake you something and mail it to you. Who knows? Not you, that's for sure!5. I reserve the right to do something extremely strange.The catch? Oh, the catch is that you must repost this on your blog and offer to do the same to the first 5 people who do the same on your blog. The first 5 people to do so and leave a comment with a poem telling me they did win a FAB-U-LOUS homemade gift by me!
PS Please leave your address incase your surprise finds you via snail mail:)

Attack of the Cherubs

So I went to Target yesterday to pick up cheap chocolate.

Chocolate that is half off is exciting to me, you see.

It’s apparently not as thrilling to Tommy. A few minutes into browsing the clearance aisle, he started to trudge behind me and moan dramatically,

“This...is....taking...FOR..EVERRRR.”

Honestly, it was like shopping with a miniature version of his father.

“Tommy! It’s chocolate! For fifty percent off! Look, here’s one with Darth Vader on it,” I said, my voice laced with enthusiasm.

Tommy was not impressed. He just glared at the chocolate that I was waving in his face and gave a long sigh.

“I don’t LIKE Darth Vader. I LIKE Optimus Prime,” he fumed.

What?

He used to LOVE Darth Vader. I have pictures to prove it. One day he would only respond to Darth Vader and if you dared call him something like, I don’t know, his real NAME, he’d give an irritated sigh and go, “It’s Darth Vader!”

“Well. I don’t see chocolates with Optimus Prime on it,” I said with a shrug and put the offending Darth Vader box back.

“I don’t care,” Tommy grumbled.

Oh. Okay.

The teenage years are going to be incredible, really.

Since I was in Target, I had to go down the other aisles. It’s like the law or something. You never know what deals you’re going to find.

I found a trash can shaped like a duck for the kid’s bathroom for 75% off. This excited me. I waved it around Tommy’s face and he just asked if I was almost done.

“Why? You have a hot date or something?” I joked, placing the duck in the cart.

Tommy tossed me a Look.

I ignored his grumpiness and continued searching for deals. I found a bed in a bag set that was 75% off and I was tempted to purchase it. It was blue, so that meant that it wouldn’t offend Tom. He wouldn’t be able to say that it was too girly. But then I realized that there were CHERUBS on the comforter.

So the awesome deal went back on the shelf.

Because I knew Tom would not be able to sleep with cherubs. I could already picture his response:

“Amber? I can’t sleep. The cherubs are looking at me.”

“Amber! We can’t have sex! The cherubs are watching!”

“Er, Amber? You can’t touch that, the cherubs will SEE and tell their cherub friends!”

So, as you can see, it was just easier NOT to buy the cherub bedding. Even though I’m growing sick of staring at our manly-looking set that we own now. It’s starting to fade and quite frankly, I’d like a set that is bright and cheerful.

“Bright and cheerful sounds girly,” Tom said when I told him this awhile back.

This is why I wish we could have our own bedrooms. Then he could decorate his room like a typical man cave, complete with socks and underwear littering the floor.

And my room can be bright and cheery with dirty clothes actually in a white wicker laundry basket.

Anyhow, after Target, we went to Wal-Mart to check out their deals.

To sedate Tommy, I promised him that we could check out the toy aisle.

“Can I buy something?” he asked hopefully.

“No. Your birthday is approaching. You’ll get toys then,” I answered.

He gave a long sigh and muttered something like, “I never get ANYTHING.” Seriously kid? Your room looks like an entire section of Toys R Us. You have plenty.

As we walked into Wal-Mart, some workers were marking down the Valentine’s Day cookies.

Score!

I’m not above buying pink iced cookies that are marked half off.

I also bought these:



They were nearly impossibly to open though. You’d think you could easily pierce that plastic, right? But no. It was like indestructible plastic. It was almost like my WiiFit was blocking my access to the truffles. I got it open by poking a knife through the plastic. “I WILL eat you,” I said as the knife pierced through.

And, okay, I had to get this:



Tom took one look at it and knew why I bought it.

“Because it was sparkly?”

I clapped my hands. “You know me well.”

It’s awesome, too. I’ve never had Rice Krispy treats with buttercream icing. I highly recommend it. It's one of my new Favorite Things to eat.