I'm Back!

Well, it has been two weeks since I took my parents to The Meadows on Hillabee. I have made a conscious effort to visit them every day...sometimes I will sit and watch television with them for an hour or so, other days I plan my visits so I can leave when they go to dinner and I am only there for 30 minutes. The point is I visit and make sure to hug them and tell them I love them each day. My mom is still wanting to come home but those comments are fewer and farther between. My dad has no clue where he is. He is content to eat, sleep, and watch tv. I did not realize until yesterday how much this whole episode in my life has taken out of me....I was sitting in church and Brother Bill was talking about the "Word that Never Comes Back...Now." I sat there and got a little misty eyed when I thought of my now. My now consists of meeting my parents needs, my husbands needs, my spiritual needs and I am drowning. On my way to Waverly church - to sing and hear my sweet Frank preach...I heard the song Cry Out to Jesus by Third Day. I love to hear Mac Powell sing. He really does not have a great voice...but it is a powerful voice...it sounds as if he is really dealing with the pain he sings of. I sat in the back seat of Carolyn and Phil's car, listened to the song and had a small come apart. Frank preached on Freedom and I felt as if God was pointing his finger at me going....You! I realized that I have not been nurturing myself these last couple of weeks. I have been so busy taking care of everyone else I was missing myself. So, today is Monday....a new start to a new week....and I am putting myself back on track. I have wants, needs, desires, and feelings too...and they count!. I will be back reading posts and commenting this week....so watch out blogging world....the new and improved Karen is BACK! Happy Monday!

Some Exciting News

“Whooooooooo!” Tom bellowed as he walked through the front door. He had his arms waving victoriously in the air.

He startled me, to be honest. I was in the middle of drinking water and I nearly choked on it. I mean, you don’t just come bursting through the door shrieking. It’s just not cool.

“Guess what?” Tom sang at me. He looked positively thrilled and I half expected him to do a pirouette, which by the way, would have been hilarious. My husband is six feet tall so watching his limbs twist around would be a sight to see.

“You got expert?” I wondered. I knew he had just come home from firing his gun and he usually always gets expert.

“No. I mean, yes I did but that’s not why I’m happy,” Tom said, standing in front of me. I could smell his breath. It did not smell good. Has he not heard of Tic Tacs?

“Then why are you happy?” I asked impatiently. At this point I had been stuck inside with a cranky two year old and my son had come home from school grumpy and I had just burned my finger while cooking dinner. I was not in the mood to guess.

“What would make you incredibly happy?” Tom replied. He had a goofy grin on his face.

I stroked my chin. “Hmmmm. For the Gosselin family to go away and for there to be no such things are calories,” I answered.

Tom made a face. “No. Something else,” he said, twirling his arm impatiently.

I scratched the side of my head. “Um….not to move?” (For those who don’t know, Tom got orders to a base in Montana and we were planning on moving next month.)

“Yes,” Tom said, his goofy grin expanding.

My face brightened. “Yes as in…we’re not moving?” I was practically doing a happy dance. My feet started to tap on the carpet and a goofy grin was beginning to form on MY face.

“My orders were cancelled. We’re staying here,” Tom said proudly.

I whooped and jumped in his arms. He smelled like dog and gun powder but I didn’t care. We were staying! We didn’t have to move!

This is apparently what happened: see, Tom is a K-9 Handler and he called the base in Montana to make sure he’d get a dog when we got there. The guy told him that he couldn’t promise that which confused Tom because the reason he got orders there was because they needed handlers. So then Tom told his boss and his boss said he’d look into it.

To make a long story short, apparently the base in Montana forgot to update their lists. Basically the list that said that they needed handlers was over a year old.

I’m thrilled. I was thrilled when Tom told me. I kept squealing and then I said something like, “We need to thank your boss. What does he want? Does he want a two-year-old? Or maybe he’d prefer a boy? Tommy, you’re going to go live with a nice man!” I called out.

Tommy looked up from the book he was reading with a start. “WHAT?” he shrieked.

I laughed. “I’m kidding. But really, we need to do something. I’m going to write him a letter and bake him cookies!” I rushed into the kitchen to check and make sure that we had the ingredients.

“I thought you wanted to thank him?” Tom said, following me in.

I rooted through the cupboards. We have a lot of crap in there. When in the WORLD did I pick up minced onion?

“I do want to thank him, Tom. I need to make sure we have the stuff to make chocolate chip cookies,” I explained, pulling out a bag of chocolate chips. Yes! Score! One ingredient down, er…maybe eight more to go?

“Cooking for him seems like a punishment. I’ve tasted your cookies,” Tom pointed out.

I swatted his arm with the chips. “You be nice! I’ll make the best cookies ever.”

I ended up writing Tom’s boss a thank you letter and giving him some cookies, which by the way, turned out really good.

I just want him to understand how grateful we are.

We get to stay!

Stop Yelling!

Okay.

Everyone is yelling.

Why is everyone yelling?

For starters, my son was upset because I accidentally picked up Cinnamon Toast Crunch when he wanted Froot Loops. He looked at the box with disgust and went, “What’s THIS? I wanted Froot Loops?

I reminded him to watch his tone. And I said, “Look, I’m not a short order cook.”

He said, “I know! You barely cook at all!”

Touché, son. Touché.

But still, I told him that he needed to be grateful for what he had because some kids get nothing for breakfast.

“I guess I’ll eat the Cinnamon Toast Crunch,” Tommy sighed. “But I won’t be happy about it.”

Fine.

Then my daughter had a famous two-year-old meltdown. It was the over the same thing I wrote about yesterday. She asked for some oatmeal so I made some. I brought it to the table and said it was ready.

“No THANKS!” Natalie shrieked, arms crossing her chest.

“You have to eat,” I urged. Seriously, Natalie is nearly two and a half and is only about 21 pounds.

“No THANKS MOMMEEEEEEEEEE!” Natalie shouted.

Does anyone want to borrow her for a few hours?

“Fine. I’ll eat the oatmeal,” I said and scooped up the bowl and took a big bite. “Mmmmm,” I said dramatically. I even rubbed my stomach for emphasis.

Natalie instantly took offense.

“Hey! THAT’S MINE! THAT’S MINEEEEEEEEEE!”

Who talks that loudly at eight in the morning? Who has the strength?

Apparently my daughter does.

Then she came hurling at me and I thought she might bite my ankles. Instead she stuck her face against my knee and whimpered, “That’s mine.”

So I offered it to her.

“NO THANKS!” she yelled, backing away as though I were offering her gruel.

We played this song and dance for about a half hour. Then Natalie decided that yes, she was hungry and took all of three bites.

At least it’s something.

Then my car yelled at me. Well, sort of. It’s a hybrid and the display turns this angry shade of blue if you’re using the gas too much. It turns a festive happy shade of green when you’re being kind to the Earth. Look, I’m all for being kind to the Earth but sometimes I have to put my foot on the gas. Sorry car, but I do. I was driving to Target and the display turned blue and I went,

“Why is everyone being so MEAN today?”

I got home and put Natalie down for her nap. She wasn’t pleased. She yelled some more. When she finally went down I went on my WiiFit. The thing told me I had gained two pounds and asked me why.

“Because I bought some pecan pie and consumed nearly all of it myself,” I told it in a snippy tone.

Then Tom came home and whined because he didn’t like what I was making for dinner.

“You’ll eat it and you’ll like it,” I said through clenched teeth.

Basically, I had a long day.

But I perked up.

Why?

Because I found this in my mailbox:



A book can always make me happy.

I bet Nicholas Sparks doesn’t complain about his wife’s cooking.

Life with a Two Year Old

Help!

For the love of chocolate, help!

My daughter is posessed.



She'll ask me for something, right? So I'll bring it to her. Then she'd decide that she doesn't want it. So I'll put it back.

Then she does this:



She'll be like, "FOOL! Did I TELL you to put it back?" Her arms will immediately cross and she'll look offended.

EVEN THOUGH SHE TOLD ME SHE DIDN'T WANT THE ITEM!

So fine, I'll bring the thing back. Sometimes it's food, sometimes it's a toy...

And she does this:



What does she want from me?

Is she PMSing early?

I DON'T KNOW WHAT SHE WANTS!

So I take the thing away.

And she does THIS:



Maybe she has short term memory loss and didn't realize that she asked for the item in the first place?

Maybe she HAS been posessed.

Or...maybe she's just being two.

Memories Can Be Amazing

Most of you have no clue who Tennessee Ernie Ford is....but I do. He was one of my dad's favorite singers and therefore I loved him too. I remember hearing his voice come drifting across the radio my dad loved to listen to on the weekend and one of the songs I loved the most was called "Sixteen Tons." I think it was one of the earliest songs I learned to play on the guitar. This is a song about the life of a coal miner. I thought the lyrics were great. There was a verse that said, "If you see me coming better step aside. A lot of men didn't and a lot of men died. One fist is iron and the other one steel, if the right one don't get you then the left one will." My dad and I would croon out this song and when we would get to that verse he would grin, wink, and ball up his fists and hold them up. You would have to know my dad to grasp the brevity of this. My dad never even spanked me as a child...the odds of him hitting someone, anyone with his fists is hysterical. I remember one time when I was in trouble....my dad came home from work, my mom told him how horrible I had been and that he needed to spank me. He took me into their bedroom, pulled his huge electricians belt off (which terrified me), and slapped the bed with it about four times. I was so scared that I cried out the first time, "No daddy!" My mom was probably listening at the door to make sure I would get my just rewards...gloating I am sure...well...the beating was done....I was none the worse for wear....everyone was happy....my dad didn't have to spank me, my mom thought I was punished thoroughly, and I missed the bullet to live and play another day. I always thought my dad looked like Tennessee Ernie Ford...and they do have some similar features....but looking back at him today...I was surprised at how much they DON'T look alike...funny what we think and remember as kids. I thought I would introduce you to the smooth stylings of Tennessee Ernie Ford. Enjoy and Happy Hump Day!

A Little Praise

I was mad.

I’m not going to lie.

I was also annoyed. How could he stroll inside and not even notice? How was he able to pull off his stinky boots and plop right down in front of the computer without saying anything?

I pressed my lips together in a tight line. I was trying to keep my anger inside even though I could feel it bubbling, desperate to come out. Maybe he’d say something in a few minutes. Maybe he just had to unwind.

But then an hour passed.

This is when I realized that he didn’t even notice that I had mowed the lawn, which by the way, is not the easiest thing in the world to do. I had mowed the lawn even though it was HIS job—I had done it to be nice because that’s just the kind of wife I am. And okay, I also did it because I had consumed three slices of pizza and I needed to burn it off. It’s not my fault! Pizza is my weakness.

I had assumed Tom would come home from work and realize that the grass was cut. Then he was supposed to burst through the door and shout, “Sweet wife of mine, thank you ever so much for doing the lawn!”

Okay.

So he wouldn’t exactly say it like that.

He’d probably say something like, “The lawn is done. Cool.”

But I got nothing.

This irritated me because Tom practically expects a song and dance when he takes out the trash. Let’s not even mention that taking out the trash is one of his chores to begin with. But when he actually does it he’ll say, “I took out the trash,” and look at me expectantly as though I’m meant to toss my arms around his neck and shriek, “Thank you, my Manly Man for getting rid of our rubbish!”

I usually praise him. I admit it. On Dr. Phil I saw some husbands moan that they’d do more around the house if they felt appreciated.

But the thing is, sometimes I don’t feel appreciated. Do I get praise when I change a disgusting diaper? I mean, some of those are horrible and I sometimes wonder if it’s entirely healthy to be breathing in fumes like that.

Do I get praise for vacuuming? Sometimes I do get a, “It looks different in here. Wait, I think it’s because it’s CLEAN!” and I’m not sure how to take that.

So fine, I’ve made peace with the fact that I may not always get a celebration when I do things.

But when I mow the yard, manual LABOR, I expect some sort of recognition. I mean, I SWEAT when I did it. I was nearly attacked by a bee who was pissed that I mowed away some of his flowers. It tried to sting me, I swear it did, and I went tearing across the lawn screaming, “BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” Then I went back to the mower that I could have just abandoned. But I’m a tough soldier, I have to finish what I start.

I went over to my husband who was starting up a game on the computer.

“Did you notice anything different?” I asked sweetly.

Tom blinked at me as he pulled out his headphones. “A new…shirt?” he guessed, looking a little nervous. No man likes to be asked about what he notices because it’s usually very different than what the woman is talking about. Like one time I pointed out this woman with neon yellow hair and I went, “Look at her,” and Tom went, “I know! She has huge breasts! I’m surprised she hasn’t fallen over!”

“Tom, I’ve had this shirt for years,” I said with a sigh.

“Could you just tell me then?” Tom practically begged.

I gestured to the front door.

“Did you paint?” Tom was flabbergasted.

I was close to jumping up and down in frustration. “Did you notice anything when you pulled up?” I wondered.

Tom frowned. He was contemplating this and coming up blank. “You cleaned the garage?” he replied hopefully.

Cleaned the garage? No, I’m mad at the garage. I went in there to organize and it attacked me. All sorts of boxes came toppling down on my head and that’s just not cool.

“The lawn, Tom!” I shrieked. My patience was gone and I needed to give the kids a bath.

“Did you put the feed down on it?” Tom inquired.

The FEED?

“I mowed it! I mowed the lawn! I was attacked by an angry bee and I got all sweaty and nearly mowed my foot off!” I yelled.

Okay, that last bit wasn’t true but I was going for a dramatic story.

“Oh. Thank you,” Tom said, turning towards his game.

That’s it?

“That’s it?” I blurted out.

“Thank you very much,” Tom tried again.

I stared at him.

“You’re the best wife ever,” Tom said.

I grinned. “Thank you for saying so! You’re too kind!” Then I walked away, satisfied in my praise.

“You’re weird!” Tom called out as I went up the stairs.

“You’d be bored if I were normal!” I answered.

“This is true,” Tom shouted back without missing a beat.

Singing for Two Sitting Presidents

Yesterday was a good day and today is going to be good too. Story number two is that I have sung for two sitting presidents. I attended Belvedere Elementary School in West Palm Beach, FL. We had a music teacher named Miss Murphy and we would put on these cute little programs throughout the year. The year I was in second grade we put on a Veteran's Day program and President John F. Kennedy and his family sat in the audience and watched us sing. I thought that was pretty cool because I thought he was the handsomest man I had ever seen....except for my dad. I was very sad and will always remember the year he was shot. It is one of those moments you will never forget. As a child I remembered how loving he seemed with his little girl and son. The Kennedy family has had to endure a number of very tragic moments throughout the years. I used to love to ride by the Kennedy compound in Palm Beach just for a glimpse of them...it never happened. The only glimpses I ever got were in magazines, on the television, and in the newspapers. Many years later, when I was in high school at Forest Hill, I sang with the First United Methodist youth choir called New Dawn. It was an awesome experience to sing with New Dawn. It was in the choir that I learned I had a pretty decent voice and began using it in public. Before that I sang for family and friends only. Anyways, there was a huge concert at the Leaky Teepee (the Civic Center) that combined all of the local church youth choirs and sitting in the audience was President Richard M. Nixon. I actually had a solo for this performance and could see him and all his entourage sitting on the front row while I sang. I was so nervous that I am surprised he did not hear my knees knocking in the microphones. Years after this Mr. Nixon fell from grace and it saddened me that such a powerful political figure could do all the terrible things the news said he did. After I heard Chuck Colson speak about the Watergate Trial and the various roles people had at a conference later in my life I was saddened again because I was so naive about government officials and their abuse of power. But, no matter who he was...I sang for him while he was the President of the United States and it was a memorable experience. Have a Terrific Tuesday...I am planning to!