It's exam week. In fact, it's been exam week for several weeks. First, The Boy brought home the "schedule". This is the supposed "schedule" that he constructs weeks before the exams start. This is the schedule he imagines in his mind that he will stick to in order to prepare for his exams. This is the schedule he commits to in front of his teachers and then brings home for me to sign...You know how months before Christmas, you imagine that you will be organized, buy all of your gifts early, send out lovely Christmas cards in advance, prepare a delicious menu weeks in advance?......Well, The Boy's schedule is very similar to this plan. It is made up of the best intentions....but perhaps a bit on the "wishful thinking" side...
Last weekend, he did an admirable job in fulfilling his "schedule". Amidst basketball games, family gatherings, etc., he managed to study for each and every exam. He even extracted my help for the french exam, impressing me with his sudden grasp of verb conjugation. I began to feel hopeful about exam week.....and then Sunday night, he had a little bit of a cough.
I should have seen it coming. Mother guilt allows me to blame myself for almost everything, and in this case, I was more than willing to shoulder the blame. The Boy's daily schedule is to come home from basketball practice,do homework, eat dinner...and head back out to play more basketball with his friends. This may or may not include a jacket, even in the coldest of weather. It also may include a wet head if he decided to shower early.
When I heard that small cough Sunday night, I pounced on him with vitamin c, tylenol, and even....some leftover amoxicillin that he had from his last sore throat. "Mom, I'm fine" he declared. But I was in full-on preventative mode. Monday morning, he felt kind of puny, but he headed to school for review day. I worried all day, only to be rewarded by him climbing in the car after school declaring "I don't feel so good." Now it seems that more that 20 people in his class were also experiencing the same symptoms (had they also been out playing ball without jackets?), but exams began Tuesday, like it or not.
Tuesday morning he sounded terrible, but he had no fever and he could walk and talk....and the English exam loomed. "I may have to call you after the exam" he declared. I took one look at him and stayed by my phone all morning. Sure enough, at 10:40, the call came. "Please come get me". He came home and got under a blanket. I took his temperature. 100. Ok, more tylenol. He took out some math papers to review, but quickly gave up. By evening time, the fever had crept up to 102. At 8:30, for what The Husband and I deemed to be the first time ever in his life....he headed up to bed of his own volition. "Not feelin so good"....
Well, this set off my mother bear instincts. I followed him up asking if I could do anything for him, only to be told that "I just need to sleep." At 11:00, I tip-toed into his room and took his temperature.....103. My heart lurched. Anything over 102, and I feel myself panic. I ran down and called the Dr., who basically told me to chill out and give him more tylenol. No panicking until 105. Don't you hate when the Dr. says stupid stuff like that?
I grabbed a pillow and headed for the couch. The Husband asked where I was going? Well....there are 18 stairs leading to our upstairs. So, in one of my motherly imaginings, The Boy wakes up delirious from fever and stumbles down the stairs. If I am on the couch, I can hear him and help him. Upon hearing this, The Husband shakes his head. He knows better than to try and reason with me at this point.
At 4:30, I sneak in and feel his forehead. Still warm, but better. "Do I need to go to school?" he asks. "Sleep" I tell him.
So today, he'll miss 2 exams. And tomorrow, probably another one. The school secretary assures me it will be ok. They may offer make-ups on Saturday. Or Monday. or after vacation.
Deep breath. It will all work out. I remember the quote about Life being what happens while you are making plans....so until tomorrow...or the next day...
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Monday, August 16, 2010
In The Blink of an Eye...
The first day of school is always sort of an emotional day of reflection for me. Today was no different. As I dropped off my two middle-schoolers (though I will never be convinced that a 5th grader is a middle-schooler), I spent the drive back home reminiscing about 10 years worth of drop offs...
It was a mere 10 years ago that Big Sis had graduated from high school and was getting ready to start college. About this time, I had helped her move into her first apartment and prepare for her first day of classes...Ten years later, she is happily married, working full-time, and due to give birth to a little boy any minute...
It was a mere 10 years ago that The Senior had just begun middle school. About this time, she and bff Liz would board the school bus at 6:15 for the daily ride to school...Ten years later, she has graduated from college, works full-time, and is getting ready to get married this weekend to Kevin, who she would not meet for a few more years...
It was a mere 10 years ago that The Boy was...3 precious years old and the apple of his mommy's eye. About this time, he would toddle downstairs and play with his trains...Ten years later, his last weekend before school began consisted of baseball practice, going to the lake with friends, and mowing the grass last night...
It was a mere 10 years ago that Little One was...1 year old. About this time, she had just celebrated her first birthday in France, and she learned that her first few years would be spent travelling around...Ten years later, she spent her last weekend before school practicing softball, spending the night with her bff, and deciding how to wear her hair...
It was mere 10 years ago that The Husband was working all over the world. About this time, he might be in California or Australia, planning a race...or checking out a vineyard....Ten years later, he makes his daily 45 minute commute to his office...
It was mere 10 years ago that I was making the adjustment from full-time working mom with 3 kids, to part-time consulting mom with 3 kids and a baby. About this time, I would be calling mom, dad and mother-in-law to fill them in on the first day of school, and how baby was doing....Today, mom, dad and mother-in-law are gone. There are no phone calls to be made...
So this morning, on this first day of school, I'm listening to James Taylor sing about how "the secret of life is enjoying the passage of time"...and agreeing with this philosophy. The only constant in life is change...and love. And as I get ready to welcome a new grandchild....and a new son-in-law, I am acutely aware that each day is a gift of some kind. I pray that the "little ones" will enjoy their first day of school. Who knows what the day will bring...the year will bring...the next 10 years will bring...
It was a mere 10 years ago that Big Sis had graduated from high school and was getting ready to start college. About this time, I had helped her move into her first apartment and prepare for her first day of classes...Ten years later, she is happily married, working full-time, and due to give birth to a little boy any minute...
It was a mere 10 years ago that The Senior had just begun middle school. About this time, she and bff Liz would board the school bus at 6:15 for the daily ride to school...Ten years later, she has graduated from college, works full-time, and is getting ready to get married this weekend to Kevin, who she would not meet for a few more years...
It was a mere 10 years ago that The Boy was...3 precious years old and the apple of his mommy's eye. About this time, he would toddle downstairs and play with his trains...Ten years later, his last weekend before school began consisted of baseball practice, going to the lake with friends, and mowing the grass last night...
It was a mere 10 years ago that Little One was...1 year old. About this time, she had just celebrated her first birthday in France, and she learned that her first few years would be spent travelling around...Ten years later, she spent her last weekend before school practicing softball, spending the night with her bff, and deciding how to wear her hair...
It was mere 10 years ago that The Husband was working all over the world. About this time, he might be in California or Australia, planning a race...or checking out a vineyard....Ten years later, he makes his daily 45 minute commute to his office...
It was mere 10 years ago that I was making the adjustment from full-time working mom with 3 kids, to part-time consulting mom with 3 kids and a baby. About this time, I would be calling mom, dad and mother-in-law to fill them in on the first day of school, and how baby was doing....Today, mom, dad and mother-in-law are gone. There are no phone calls to be made...
So this morning, on this first day of school, I'm listening to James Taylor sing about how "the secret of life is enjoying the passage of time"...and agreeing with this philosophy. The only constant in life is change...and love. And as I get ready to welcome a new grandchild....and a new son-in-law, I am acutely aware that each day is a gift of some kind. I pray that the "little ones" will enjoy their first day of school. Who knows what the day will bring...the year will bring...the next 10 years will bring...
Friday, July 16, 2010
On The Lessons Learned at Summer Camp
The Boy returned from summer camp yesterday. After 5 days of intense baseball at Clemson, we picked up he and his BFF up and headed home. They were full of stories about what was evidently a rewarding week.
I had missed the drop-off last Sunday. The Husband was of the opinion that it should be a father/son deal...however, he was "ok with me coming". Despite this warm invitation, I had to skip due to a last minute pool-party invitation for Little One's softball team. I waited anxiously for the call from The Boy to let me know how his dorm room was, and how he felt. The Boy is always a bit short on the phone, so when he finally called, I couldn't really decipher his tone. He was physically prepared for the week, having run and worked out and played ball for several weeks. But the whole dorm situation was new. He wasn't too worried, as he had the BFF along, and together, they usually feel pretty invincible.
The Husband left him with 3 instructions: 1)Challenge yourself 2)Work harder than anyone else, and 3) Have fun when appropriate. I agreed with all of these, but I had a few other roll-your-eyes instructions that we won't discuss. Being mom, I am always concerned with character and kindness...but I digress...
The Boy called the first night with a report. Tired, sore, missing home. However, these words came in between laughing and disruptions from all around. I didn't sleep much that night, because as usual, I had been given something to worry about, so I did. During his break the next day, he called to say he was fine. He had a few complaints,but all-in-all, it was good. I asked to speak with BFF, who is like son #2. "Hello second mom" he began. "I really, really need apple juice. And the bathrooms are gross." Ok, all was fine.
The Husband and I decided to take a discreet trip up the next night to watch his game. His team would be playing in the stadium, and the Husband couldn't pass up a chance to watch his son play ball on the field of his alma mater. We got there a few minutes before the game and hid, so that The Boy wouldn't know we were there. This was going fine until BFF walked by on the way to his game. Little One and I injured ourselves diving behind a pole, but we kept our cover. Minutes later, we saw him. My heart skipped a beat. I looked over at The Husband and we smiled. As he ran on to the field and over to first base, it was an exciting moment. One of those "let me remember this" moments....The game flew by. The Boy played well, and finally, we decided to come out of hiding. He was standing on second base when he spotted us. He waved and waved. Even Little One had to laugh...
The next day was his birthday. We decided to make the long drive back up to see him again. We had decided to take the plunge and get him a phone. We weren't going to leave it with him, but we wanted him to see it. The Husband found him on the practice field when we got there and held up the phone....he nodded and smiled, a little distracted by the fact that he would be pitching that night. But on a break, he ran over to say hello and take a look. "I AM SO HAPPY!" he yelled. Of course, I told myself it was because we were there...but in truth...it was the phone.
That night, he called to tell us the schedule for the last day. There would be a full morning of drills, followed by an awards ceremony. "I won't win the pitching or hitting award" he said. "The older guys are better." However, he felt he had a shot at the hustle award. His coach had complimented him on his hard work and he was hopeful. In the end, he didn't get an award, but he was ok with it, knowing that he had given it his best effort.
On the drive home, we were entertained with stories of all-you-can eat cafeterias, gross communal showers,'hot chicks' from volleyball camp, and new friendships. There were the requisite not-so-great moments. As The Boy said, some people just will not play nice in the sandbox. This is our term for guys who are just not so nice. I use to advise The Boy to "leave the sandbox" when this happens. But as he gets older, I kind of agree with The Husband that it is time to throw sand back at someone if they can't be nice...
Thankfully, the good moments much outweighed the bad. Between the experience and the knowledge learned, it was great week. And it was a good learning experience for me, too. After all, this 'letting go' thing has to start sometime. You have to sit back and hope (and pray) that the advice you have given is taken. You have to hope that you have encouraged independence. And you have to hope that you have a little luck...and things go well...
I had missed the drop-off last Sunday. The Husband was of the opinion that it should be a father/son deal...however, he was "ok with me coming". Despite this warm invitation, I had to skip due to a last minute pool-party invitation for Little One's softball team. I waited anxiously for the call from The Boy to let me know how his dorm room was, and how he felt. The Boy is always a bit short on the phone, so when he finally called, I couldn't really decipher his tone. He was physically prepared for the week, having run and worked out and played ball for several weeks. But the whole dorm situation was new. He wasn't too worried, as he had the BFF along, and together, they usually feel pretty invincible.
The Husband left him with 3 instructions: 1)Challenge yourself 2)Work harder than anyone else, and 3) Have fun when appropriate. I agreed with all of these, but I had a few other roll-your-eyes instructions that we won't discuss. Being mom, I am always concerned with character and kindness...but I digress...
The Boy called the first night with a report. Tired, sore, missing home. However, these words came in between laughing and disruptions from all around. I didn't sleep much that night, because as usual, I had been given something to worry about, so I did. During his break the next day, he called to say he was fine. He had a few complaints,but all-in-all, it was good. I asked to speak with BFF, who is like son #2. "Hello second mom" he began. "I really, really need apple juice. And the bathrooms are gross." Ok, all was fine.
The Husband and I decided to take a discreet trip up the next night to watch his game. His team would be playing in the stadium, and the Husband couldn't pass up a chance to watch his son play ball on the field of his alma mater. We got there a few minutes before the game and hid, so that The Boy wouldn't know we were there. This was going fine until BFF walked by on the way to his game. Little One and I injured ourselves diving behind a pole, but we kept our cover. Minutes later, we saw him. My heart skipped a beat. I looked over at The Husband and we smiled. As he ran on to the field and over to first base, it was an exciting moment. One of those "let me remember this" moments....The game flew by. The Boy played well, and finally, we decided to come out of hiding. He was standing on second base when he spotted us. He waved and waved. Even Little One had to laugh...
The next day was his birthday. We decided to make the long drive back up to see him again. We had decided to take the plunge and get him a phone. We weren't going to leave it with him, but we wanted him to see it. The Husband found him on the practice field when we got there and held up the phone....he nodded and smiled, a little distracted by the fact that he would be pitching that night. But on a break, he ran over to say hello and take a look. "I AM SO HAPPY!" he yelled. Of course, I told myself it was because we were there...but in truth...it was the phone.
That night, he called to tell us the schedule for the last day. There would be a full morning of drills, followed by an awards ceremony. "I won't win the pitching or hitting award" he said. "The older guys are better." However, he felt he had a shot at the hustle award. His coach had complimented him on his hard work and he was hopeful. In the end, he didn't get an award, but he was ok with it, knowing that he had given it his best effort.
On the drive home, we were entertained with stories of all-you-can eat cafeterias, gross communal showers,'hot chicks' from volleyball camp, and new friendships. There were the requisite not-so-great moments. As The Boy said, some people just will not play nice in the sandbox. This is our term for guys who are just not so nice. I use to advise The Boy to "leave the sandbox" when this happens. But as he gets older, I kind of agree with The Husband that it is time to throw sand back at someone if they can't be nice...
Thankfully, the good moments much outweighed the bad. Between the experience and the knowledge learned, it was great week. And it was a good learning experience for me, too. After all, this 'letting go' thing has to start sometime. You have to sit back and hope (and pray) that the advice you have given is taken. You have to hope that you have encouraged independence. And you have to hope that you have a little luck...and things go well...
Thursday, July 8, 2010
On The Lessons Learned from Family Vacation...
We're settling back in after the family vacation. After a few aborted attempts to blog on the trip, I decided to wait awhile and gain some perspective. After all, sometimes the best conclusions can only be drawn after you've had time to look back, forget the bad, and concentrate on the good...
In retrospect, I think one of the lessons learned from a family vacation is that everyone is on their own agenda. Each of us has our own expectations of what we want to do or accomplish, and any problems arise when these expectations aren't met. I'm thinking that next time, a pre-vacation family meeting is in order. Everyone needs to lay out what they want to get out of the trip...This hopefully gives everyone an idea of what is to come...and eliminates those pesky "perfect fantasy" notions that some of us tend to hang our hat on before we leave...
On this past trip, we all knew that we were going to see a lot of baseball. This was fine with everyone. But let's review each family member's pre-vacation perspective:
Little One: Little One is fairly easy to please. She harbors a certain set of fears that many reading this blog know of, but cannot be stated for many reasons. As long as these set of fears are respected and avoided...she can pretty much hang with anything. Throw in an occasional stuffed animal and a couple nights of sleeping with mom, and she is good to go...
The Boy: The Boy is easy. It's all about the meals, the sleep, the psp, and the Braves game. The Boy is a planner. He likes to know each morning (which for him would start at 12:00 if he had his way) what and where his meals will be. If he knows this...and he can be assured of at least one barbecue burger, he's a happy camper. If he is allowed to bring his psp, he is even happier...and if you assure him that he gets to watch the Braves game...he has hit the Holy Grail....life is good.
Ok. Now The Husband. This is the tricky one. The Husband truly wants everyone to have a good time. Really. But he also needs for everyone to abide by his schedule. And you need to know up front that he is in a race. We have never quite figured out the specifics of this race, but suffice it to say that no matter where you are, YOU MUST HURRY. If you are in the airport, you must race to your gate, even if you are 2 hours early. If you are attending a game, you must race to and from your car. If you are unable to keep up with him, you are in deep trouble. This means everyone must memorize all of the specifics...where you are parked....where the hotel is....in case you get left behind. Also, if you are travelling with The Husband, you must be aware that there will be little "surprises" along the way. He may decide to alter the plan at any given moment...and you better be ready to make the adjustment. And one more thing....vacation does not mean that The Husband does not work. It is a given that he will be on the blackberry 3 hours a day. If it rings in the car, the noise level had better be lowered quickly. Once you arrive at your hotel, he WILL be on the computer for a minimum of 2 hours an evening. Do Not make the mistake of bringing this subject up, or you may get the "how do you think we can take this trip?" lecture...
Ok, that leaves me. Now, The Husband thinks I am going to act like a Saint and declare that all I want is for everyone to be happy and get along. But I have decided to come clean here. I DO want everyone to be happy. I do want everyone to get along. But I have a few more minor requests:
1) I need coffee within 45 minutes of my waking time. If I don't get this, I may be...grumpy.
2) I need some sort of breakfast-related item to eat before I can have lunch. The Husband and Boy skip breakfast and then eat Mexican for lunch. NO. I cannot do it. Please, an apple....a doughnut....something....
3) I hate to rush. I'm never late, and I can abide by a schedule, but it goes against my distracted nature to rush. I like to "saunter". The Husband may refer to this as "dilly-dallying",but who cares?
4)I do not like to pre-eat. This is the term I use to describe what The Husband and Boy do at a buffet. They eat enough so that they will not be hungry later on. Not so for me. I want to be hungry later on. I want to eat at the ball stadium. I want to stop 40 times and try different stuff...
5) I have to sleep. If I don't, I may be....grumpy. The Husband makes few allowances for things like sleep. This creates "issues".
In the end, it's all about negotiating different personalities, isn't it? Just because you are on vacation, it doesn't guarantee that every moment will be fun. Let's face it, when you put 4 personalities in a car and hotel room for 7 days, there are likely to be "issues". I think the way to deal with this is to let go of the idea of the "perfect" vacation. You have to remember that being in a different state or even country doesn't mean that we are different.
Patience...that is the key word. And negotiation. And thankfulness. Because not everyone gets to take a vacation, and so just the ability to take one should be a check in the "grateful' column...
All of this considered....it was a good trip....
In retrospect, I think one of the lessons learned from a family vacation is that everyone is on their own agenda. Each of us has our own expectations of what we want to do or accomplish, and any problems arise when these expectations aren't met. I'm thinking that next time, a pre-vacation family meeting is in order. Everyone needs to lay out what they want to get out of the trip...This hopefully gives everyone an idea of what is to come...and eliminates those pesky "perfect fantasy" notions that some of us tend to hang our hat on before we leave...
On this past trip, we all knew that we were going to see a lot of baseball. This was fine with everyone. But let's review each family member's pre-vacation perspective:
Little One: Little One is fairly easy to please. She harbors a certain set of fears that many reading this blog know of, but cannot be stated for many reasons. As long as these set of fears are respected and avoided...she can pretty much hang with anything. Throw in an occasional stuffed animal and a couple nights of sleeping with mom, and she is good to go...
The Boy: The Boy is easy. It's all about the meals, the sleep, the psp, and the Braves game. The Boy is a planner. He likes to know each morning (which for him would start at 12:00 if he had his way) what and where his meals will be. If he knows this...and he can be assured of at least one barbecue burger, he's a happy camper. If he is allowed to bring his psp, he is even happier...and if you assure him that he gets to watch the Braves game...he has hit the Holy Grail....life is good.
Ok. Now The Husband. This is the tricky one. The Husband truly wants everyone to have a good time. Really. But he also needs for everyone to abide by his schedule. And you need to know up front that he is in a race. We have never quite figured out the specifics of this race, but suffice it to say that no matter where you are, YOU MUST HURRY. If you are in the airport, you must race to your gate, even if you are 2 hours early. If you are attending a game, you must race to and from your car. If you are unable to keep up with him, you are in deep trouble. This means everyone must memorize all of the specifics...where you are parked....where the hotel is....in case you get left behind. Also, if you are travelling with The Husband, you must be aware that there will be little "surprises" along the way. He may decide to alter the plan at any given moment...and you better be ready to make the adjustment. And one more thing....vacation does not mean that The Husband does not work. It is a given that he will be on the blackberry 3 hours a day. If it rings in the car, the noise level had better be lowered quickly. Once you arrive at your hotel, he WILL be on the computer for a minimum of 2 hours an evening. Do Not make the mistake of bringing this subject up, or you may get the "how do you think we can take this trip?" lecture...
Ok, that leaves me. Now, The Husband thinks I am going to act like a Saint and declare that all I want is for everyone to be happy and get along. But I have decided to come clean here. I DO want everyone to be happy. I do want everyone to get along. But I have a few more minor requests:
1) I need coffee within 45 minutes of my waking time. If I don't get this, I may be...grumpy.
2) I need some sort of breakfast-related item to eat before I can have lunch. The Husband and Boy skip breakfast and then eat Mexican for lunch. NO. I cannot do it. Please, an apple....a doughnut....something....
3) I hate to rush. I'm never late, and I can abide by a schedule, but it goes against my distracted nature to rush. I like to "saunter". The Husband may refer to this as "dilly-dallying",but who cares?
4)I do not like to pre-eat. This is the term I use to describe what The Husband and Boy do at a buffet. They eat enough so that they will not be hungry later on. Not so for me. I want to be hungry later on. I want to eat at the ball stadium. I want to stop 40 times and try different stuff...
5) I have to sleep. If I don't, I may be....grumpy. The Husband makes few allowances for things like sleep. This creates "issues".
In the end, it's all about negotiating different personalities, isn't it? Just because you are on vacation, it doesn't guarantee that every moment will be fun. Let's face it, when you put 4 personalities in a car and hotel room for 7 days, there are likely to be "issues". I think the way to deal with this is to let go of the idea of the "perfect" vacation. You have to remember that being in a different state or even country doesn't mean that we are different.
Patience...that is the key word. And negotiation. And thankfulness. Because not everyone gets to take a vacation, and so just the ability to take one should be a check in the "grateful' column...
All of this considered....it was a good trip....
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Family Vacation.....
As the saying goes,"Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home." Or in my case, like my second home. A few days at Grandma's house after our week of vacation was just what I needed. It was an interesting week. The definition for the word vacation is "an extended period of time for pleasure, rest or relaxation." The rest and relaxation part did not apply to our trip. 7 days, 2 flights, 1500 miles of driving, 4 states, 8 baseball games, 2 memorials, 1 museum, 4 universities, 5 hotels...like I said, not much rest or relaxation, but there was pleasure along the way.
As with any vacation, there is always "The Good, The Bad and The Ugly". Whenever you put 4 personalities in a car and hotel room together for 7 days and nights, there are bound to be "issues". But let's start with the "Good"....
Everything baseball-related was terrific. We saw 4 major league games, 1 minor league game and 3 College World Series games. Yes, it was a little over-the-top, but it was fun to get to see the different stadiums. The Husband took some great pictures, The Boy is still convinced he wants to be a major league player, and Little One and I now know who has the best concession stands and cotton candy...
We also visited 4 university campuses: U of Texas, U of Oklahoma, TCU and Texas A&M. The Boy liked TCU and Oklahoma. Even Little One could see herself at Oklahoma...a surprisingly pretty and homey-looking campus. The Husband had planned for us to spend 2 days in Austin, but as we drove into the city and past the university football stadium, he said "That is not the main campus...just a satellite campus." The Boy and I looked at each other and shook our heads. "Look at the stadium. Holds at least 50,000" I noted. "Yeah dad, UT is in Austin". Still, The Husband insisted we were wrong....Of course, the next day when we drove to the campus, it turned out we were right. The Husband had to ask at least 5 people, somehow thinking that we had contacted everyone in Austin, and they were trying to fool him......Finally, when we walked into a campus store, he asked the guy behind the counter "Is this the main campus for UT?"....I wish you could have seen the look on the guy's face, surrounded by all of the UT merchandise. The Boy and I left the area in order to burst out laughing...
Later that day, we attended a minor league ball game. It was so much fun, and The Husband actually caught a foul ball. This made him a minor celebrity...and he proceeded to give autographs. He kept waiting for the announcer to praise him for his catch...but alas, it was a minor league game, so there was no announcer....
There is a story about spending hours on a bridge in Austin to see a million bats fly out at dusk. I won't tell the story because The Husband feels I embellish sometimes. I would like to say that I feel this is a myth...we were there from dusk to night time...and I believe we saw 4 pigeons....
The Husband had scheduled several trips to "Drive-Ins, Diners and Dives", but after driving a couple hours out of the way only to find one closed...and being totally disappointed by another...we sort of abandoned that little side-story. We had some really great meals, but The Boy continued his record of the most number of consecutive meals which include a barbecue burger and fries....
Next it was on to Dallas for the JFK museum by the "Grassy Knoll". This was very interesting, although The Boy felt that he already "knew it all from school"...and The Husband had deja-vu and realised he had taken the tour before with an ex-girlfriend. Of course he had no idea who, when or where...but that is normal with The Husband. There were many previous who's, when's and where's.....
Finally, we arrived at our main destination: the College World Series. Clemson, The Huband's alma mater, had made it to the final week...a really nice turn of events since you can't plan on things like that. Unfortunately, the temperature was hovering around 95. But we sat through 3 sweltering games and saw some great baseball. Unfortunately, Clemson lost...but still, it was a great experience.
Let me tip-toe around something for a moment: here is the problem at events such as these. The Husband is always in a hurry. He is also impatient. This does not bode well for any older people, handicapped people...or generally anyone who gets in his way. The Boy and I are just the opposite. We stroll. We get distracted. We apologize for everything. If you mix these two personalities together...you get trouble. Thank goodness for The Boy. He is forever the Mediator. He stays in the middle between me and The Husband and tries to slow him down...and speed me up. It's a thankless job...but he does it well.
Our last city was Kansas City. I love this city, and though we only had a short time there, we enjoyed it. But let me touch on another "issue". The Husband and Boy wanted to watch a ballgame on TV on a Saturday night. (Yes, you understand...after a week of 7 games, they had to watch another on TV). This delayed dinner until 9:00 on Saturday night in a city known for it's dining. Well, off we go at 9:00 to find a place. As previously discussed, The Husband does not like to wait. This means nowhere with a wait of more than....say 20 minutes. So here is what happens....The Husband drops me at the restaurant door (where there is already a line around the building) to ask how long the "wait" is....by the time I get back with the bad news...he has already driven a mile down the street due to traffic. This means that I literally have to sprint to catch the car. This little scenario plays out about 5 times. Finally, I fib and say that the wait is only 20 minutes so that I don't have to sprint anymore. Thankfully, we ended up at a great little Italian place and the wait wasn't too bad.....All's well that ends well...
And so we headed back home, going straight from the airport to another ballgame...The Boy wanted to see his beloved Braves. It was another hot afternoon, but So worth it to see The Boy have such a good time.
So that brings us to the end of the vacation blog. After a brief discussion with The Husband, I was forced to abandon and edit many stories. He feels that I often "create" or "tamper" with stories in the blog. I insist that this is not true. I feel that it is sometimes difficult to see the truth in print...but this is a subject for another day...
On a final note, I do want to say (under duress) that this vacation would not have been possible, except for the amazing sense of direction and driving skills of The Husband. You could drop this man anywhere, and he could find the nearest baseball stadium in 10 minutes. ( Of course, anybody in his way better darn well move out of the way, but anyhow....)
Thanks to The Boy for his sunny attitude...and to Little One for being such a trooper....
It's good to be home.
As with any vacation, there is always "The Good, The Bad and The Ugly". Whenever you put 4 personalities in a car and hotel room together for 7 days and nights, there are bound to be "issues". But let's start with the "Good"....
Everything baseball-related was terrific. We saw 4 major league games, 1 minor league game and 3 College World Series games. Yes, it was a little over-the-top, but it was fun to get to see the different stadiums. The Husband took some great pictures, The Boy is still convinced he wants to be a major league player, and Little One and I now know who has the best concession stands and cotton candy...
We also visited 4 university campuses: U of Texas, U of Oklahoma, TCU and Texas A&M. The Boy liked TCU and Oklahoma. Even Little One could see herself at Oklahoma...a surprisingly pretty and homey-looking campus. The Husband had planned for us to spend 2 days in Austin, but as we drove into the city and past the university football stadium, he said "That is not the main campus...just a satellite campus." The Boy and I looked at each other and shook our heads. "Look at the stadium. Holds at least 50,000" I noted. "Yeah dad, UT is in Austin". Still, The Husband insisted we were wrong....Of course, the next day when we drove to the campus, it turned out we were right. The Husband had to ask at least 5 people, somehow thinking that we had contacted everyone in Austin, and they were trying to fool him......Finally, when we walked into a campus store, he asked the guy behind the counter "Is this the main campus for UT?"....I wish you could have seen the look on the guy's face, surrounded by all of the UT merchandise. The Boy and I left the area in order to burst out laughing...
Later that day, we attended a minor league ball game. It was so much fun, and The Husband actually caught a foul ball. This made him a minor celebrity...and he proceeded to give autographs. He kept waiting for the announcer to praise him for his catch...but alas, it was a minor league game, so there was no announcer....
There is a story about spending hours on a bridge in Austin to see a million bats fly out at dusk. I won't tell the story because The Husband feels I embellish sometimes. I would like to say that I feel this is a myth...we were there from dusk to night time...and I believe we saw 4 pigeons....
The Husband had scheduled several trips to "Drive-Ins, Diners and Dives", but after driving a couple hours out of the way only to find one closed...and being totally disappointed by another...we sort of abandoned that little side-story. We had some really great meals, but The Boy continued his record of the most number of consecutive meals which include a barbecue burger and fries....
Next it was on to Dallas for the JFK museum by the "Grassy Knoll". This was very interesting, although The Boy felt that he already "knew it all from school"...and The Husband had deja-vu and realised he had taken the tour before with an ex-girlfriend. Of course he had no idea who, when or where...but that is normal with The Husband. There were many previous who's, when's and where's.....
Finally, we arrived at our main destination: the College World Series. Clemson, The Huband's alma mater, had made it to the final week...a really nice turn of events since you can't plan on things like that. Unfortunately, the temperature was hovering around 95. But we sat through 3 sweltering games and saw some great baseball. Unfortunately, Clemson lost...but still, it was a great experience.
Let me tip-toe around something for a moment: here is the problem at events such as these. The Husband is always in a hurry. He is also impatient. This does not bode well for any older people, handicapped people...or generally anyone who gets in his way. The Boy and I are just the opposite. We stroll. We get distracted. We apologize for everything. If you mix these two personalities together...you get trouble. Thank goodness for The Boy. He is forever the Mediator. He stays in the middle between me and The Husband and tries to slow him down...and speed me up. It's a thankless job...but he does it well.
Our last city was Kansas City. I love this city, and though we only had a short time there, we enjoyed it. But let me touch on another "issue". The Husband and Boy wanted to watch a ballgame on TV on a Saturday night. (Yes, you understand...after a week of 7 games, they had to watch another on TV). This delayed dinner until 9:00 on Saturday night in a city known for it's dining. Well, off we go at 9:00 to find a place. As previously discussed, The Husband does not like to wait. This means nowhere with a wait of more than....say 20 minutes. So here is what happens....The Husband drops me at the restaurant door (where there is already a line around the building) to ask how long the "wait" is....by the time I get back with the bad news...he has already driven a mile down the street due to traffic. This means that I literally have to sprint to catch the car. This little scenario plays out about 5 times. Finally, I fib and say that the wait is only 20 minutes so that I don't have to sprint anymore. Thankfully, we ended up at a great little Italian place and the wait wasn't too bad.....All's well that ends well...
And so we headed back home, going straight from the airport to another ballgame...The Boy wanted to see his beloved Braves. It was another hot afternoon, but So worth it to see The Boy have such a good time.
So that brings us to the end of the vacation blog. After a brief discussion with The Husband, I was forced to abandon and edit many stories. He feels that I often "create" or "tamper" with stories in the blog. I insist that this is not true. I feel that it is sometimes difficult to see the truth in print...but this is a subject for another day...
On a final note, I do want to say (under duress) that this vacation would not have been possible, except for the amazing sense of direction and driving skills of The Husband. You could drop this man anywhere, and he could find the nearest baseball stadium in 10 minutes. ( Of course, anybody in his way better darn well move out of the way, but anyhow....)
Thanks to The Boy for his sunny attitude...and to Little One for being such a trooper....
It's good to be home.
Friday, June 25, 2010
On Why I Just Can't Joke About it Yet...
I know. I had promised to blog all week. A sort of daily vacation report. I keep getting messages asking for some details. But there are 2 good reasons that I haven't. The first is the practical one. This is WAY different than the beach trips where I have the whole morning to sit on the balcony in my swimsuit and write. This morning is the first morning on the trip that we have not gotten up early and left our hotel for our next destination. In the first 2 days, we saw 3 baseball games, a museum and 2 historical sites. We literally crawled into our beds in a new hotel each night.
The second reason is more personal, but with my apologies to those who were looking for some sarcasm...here goes:
We headed into Arlington Park Tuesday night to see the Rangers play. It had been a long day, and we were all hot, tired and a little grumpy (Ok, maybe it was just me). I asked The Husband if we could eat in the Grill that overlooked the park and watch batting practice to avoid the heat. You had to have a certain level of tickets to get into the Grill, and thankfully, ours were good. As we walked in, we looked for a table by the window so we could watch. There were none available, so we sort of frustratingly walked back towards the back. Suddenly, a man sitting alone at table for 4 looked up at me and said, "Here, take this one." The Husband said " No man, keep it". But he insisted, saying he would grab one alone in the back, and he took off. We sat down gratefully, and The Husband sent a beer to his table. A few minutes later, he walked over and said thanks. He explained that he was an active duty soldier. He trains our troops before they are sent overseas. In his spare time, he coaches his local high school football team in Iowa. For Father's Day, his wife had given him one ticket so he could come to the game and enjoy his beloved baseball. He was so excited that you could just feel it.
We chatted with him for a while, and then he went back to his table. I looked at the kids...and then unfortunately, I launched into the "Mom lecture" on thankfulness and gratefulness and being a little spoiled. I was actually lecturing myself. The kids were very impressed by this man. The Boy suggested we ask him to eat with us, but The Husband pointed out that he looked very content eating his hot dog, drinking his beer, and reading his program. On his way out, He thanked Us again...
And so today, as we prepare to got to the College World Series and watch The Husband's Alma mater that has amazingly made it to the finals on the day we are here...I am determined to overlook the 95 degree heat and be thankful...
But you know, by the time I get home next week, I am sure I will be ready to discuss the realities of the trip. From waiting on a bridge for hours for bats that never came...to The Husband catching a foul ball at a game and deciding to give autographs...there will be plenty to talk about.
But for today....only a sincere sense of thankfulness for a vacation that may have been different, but terrific...
With 3 days and 4 games to go.....
The second reason is more personal, but with my apologies to those who were looking for some sarcasm...here goes:
We headed into Arlington Park Tuesday night to see the Rangers play. It had been a long day, and we were all hot, tired and a little grumpy (Ok, maybe it was just me). I asked The Husband if we could eat in the Grill that overlooked the park and watch batting practice to avoid the heat. You had to have a certain level of tickets to get into the Grill, and thankfully, ours were good. As we walked in, we looked for a table by the window so we could watch. There were none available, so we sort of frustratingly walked back towards the back. Suddenly, a man sitting alone at table for 4 looked up at me and said, "Here, take this one." The Husband said " No man, keep it". But he insisted, saying he would grab one alone in the back, and he took off. We sat down gratefully, and The Husband sent a beer to his table. A few minutes later, he walked over and said thanks. He explained that he was an active duty soldier. He trains our troops before they are sent overseas. In his spare time, he coaches his local high school football team in Iowa. For Father's Day, his wife had given him one ticket so he could come to the game and enjoy his beloved baseball. He was so excited that you could just feel it.
We chatted with him for a while, and then he went back to his table. I looked at the kids...and then unfortunately, I launched into the "Mom lecture" on thankfulness and gratefulness and being a little spoiled. I was actually lecturing myself. The kids were very impressed by this man. The Boy suggested we ask him to eat with us, but The Husband pointed out that he looked very content eating his hot dog, drinking his beer, and reading his program. On his way out, He thanked Us again...
And so today, as we prepare to got to the College World Series and watch The Husband's Alma mater that has amazingly made it to the finals on the day we are here...I am determined to overlook the 95 degree heat and be thankful...
But you know, by the time I get home next week, I am sure I will be ready to discuss the realities of the trip. From waiting on a bridge for hours for bats that never came...to The Husband catching a foul ball at a game and deciding to give autographs...there will be plenty to talk about.
But for today....only a sincere sense of thankfulness for a vacation that may have been different, but terrific...
With 3 days and 4 games to go.....
Friday, June 18, 2010
The Texas Crawl...Pre-Trip
Well, it's almost here. Sunday morning marks the beginning of the "Texas Crawl". This is when we begin our trip that will take us to Houston, Austin, Dallas,Topeka, Wichita, Omaha and Kansas City. We will see 6 baseball games in 7 days, including the College World Series. The bags are packed (almost), the tickets are bought (more on that later) and the hotels are booked (not exactly).
The Husband began suggesting this trip a couple months back. His favorite description of it included the terms "something different" and "a change of pace". I threw out the idea of a trip to Paris...now this would be a change of pace. Especially after our year of baseball and softball tournaments. But The Husband really wanted to see that College World Series, and also some other stadiums. Let me me quickly state that I am not martyr in this situation. A few people have said "Oh you are such a good sport" or "Oh you are such a trooper"...and though I love these accolades....they are not quite true. Frankly, I love baseball, too. If you read the blog, you know that growing up with 3 brothers and a father who was president of the Hawks (basketball), my childhood was consumed with sports. We lived at the baseball field or the basketball arena...so I am very comfortable at either place. A few summers ago when we took our disastrous trip to Connecticut and New York, it was my idea to go to Yankees stadium one more time before they tore it down....so my point is, don't feel sorry for me for this part of it...
There are many things to be thankful about regarding this trip. Number one...I get my own carry-on bag. Usually I have to share with Little One, but The Husband agreed to all of us having our own. The down-side of this is that this trip really does not require anything besides t-shirts and tennis shoes. (Ok, I did sneak in a t-shirt dress and sandals...)
Secondly, I have heard and read that Austin is a neat city. I am not a cowboy boot or hat-wearing type girl, but I am always open to new things. A friend sent me a link to the Blanton Museum there which looks fabulous....and despite The Husband's "We don't want to overwhelm the kids with that stuff" comment (really...6 games in 6 days...and we don't want to overwhelm anyone?), I will be searching this place out.
Next, The Husband loves that Food Network show "Diners,Drive-ins and Dives". Every night about 10:00, our tv ends up on this channel. Turns out there are about 5 of these places within a 7 hour detour of where we are going....and we will be hitting them all. This works out great for the Husband and The Boy, who have never met a plate of deep fried food they haven't loved. Maybe not so great for me and The Little One who really like to have an occasional vegetable or fruit...
The hotel selection was another debate. I am not high maintenance....but I do like clean and convenient. I am not big on driving 4 hours out of the way for anything either. And I cannot be plied with the comment "but they have a buffet breakfast". This caused a few bumps in the road, but all in all, I am happy with the ones I booked. The Husband has decided to leave a few to chance....this leads me to picture us on the side of the road in our car....
Last night, The Husband explained to me that the tickets we have to the College World Series do not actually guarantee us a seat. They only guaranteed us the right to line up outside the stadium after midnight and hope for a spot. Also, The Husband said, if you don't get in, you can watch on a big screen outside. Let's review....a trip across the US to see 2 games....and the chance of not getting in. Before the night was over...we had reserved seats.
So here we are, 2 days out from the big trip. I am prepared and excited. A friend has suggested that I re-watch "Family Vacation" with Chevy Chase to prepare. Another friend reminded me to pack the Tums. Brother-in-law merely wrote "t-shirts and sunscreen"...
I know there will be lessons to be learned on this trip. But you know, it is indeed a "Family Vacation", with all of the memories, good and bad, that go with those. I am prepared to be thankful and have a great time...
Yee Haa....Texas bound....I'll keep you posted....
The Husband began suggesting this trip a couple months back. His favorite description of it included the terms "something different" and "a change of pace". I threw out the idea of a trip to Paris...now this would be a change of pace. Especially after our year of baseball and softball tournaments. But The Husband really wanted to see that College World Series, and also some other stadiums. Let me me quickly state that I am not martyr in this situation. A few people have said "Oh you are such a good sport" or "Oh you are such a trooper"...and though I love these accolades....they are not quite true. Frankly, I love baseball, too. If you read the blog, you know that growing up with 3 brothers and a father who was president of the Hawks (basketball), my childhood was consumed with sports. We lived at the baseball field or the basketball arena...so I am very comfortable at either place. A few summers ago when we took our disastrous trip to Connecticut and New York, it was my idea to go to Yankees stadium one more time before they tore it down....so my point is, don't feel sorry for me for this part of it...
There are many things to be thankful about regarding this trip. Number one...I get my own carry-on bag. Usually I have to share with Little One, but The Husband agreed to all of us having our own. The down-side of this is that this trip really does not require anything besides t-shirts and tennis shoes. (Ok, I did sneak in a t-shirt dress and sandals...)
Secondly, I have heard and read that Austin is a neat city. I am not a cowboy boot or hat-wearing type girl, but I am always open to new things. A friend sent me a link to the Blanton Museum there which looks fabulous....and despite The Husband's "We don't want to overwhelm the kids with that stuff" comment (really...6 games in 6 days...and we don't want to overwhelm anyone?), I will be searching this place out.
Next, The Husband loves that Food Network show "Diners,Drive-ins and Dives". Every night about 10:00, our tv ends up on this channel. Turns out there are about 5 of these places within a 7 hour detour of where we are going....and we will be hitting them all. This works out great for the Husband and The Boy, who have never met a plate of deep fried food they haven't loved. Maybe not so great for me and The Little One who really like to have an occasional vegetable or fruit...
The hotel selection was another debate. I am not high maintenance....but I do like clean and convenient. I am not big on driving 4 hours out of the way for anything either. And I cannot be plied with the comment "but they have a buffet breakfast". This caused a few bumps in the road, but all in all, I am happy with the ones I booked. The Husband has decided to leave a few to chance....this leads me to picture us on the side of the road in our car....
Last night, The Husband explained to me that the tickets we have to the College World Series do not actually guarantee us a seat. They only guaranteed us the right to line up outside the stadium after midnight and hope for a spot. Also, The Husband said, if you don't get in, you can watch on a big screen outside. Let's review....a trip across the US to see 2 games....and the chance of not getting in. Before the night was over...we had reserved seats.
So here we are, 2 days out from the big trip. I am prepared and excited. A friend has suggested that I re-watch "Family Vacation" with Chevy Chase to prepare. Another friend reminded me to pack the Tums. Brother-in-law merely wrote "t-shirts and sunscreen"...
I know there will be lessons to be learned on this trip. But you know, it is indeed a "Family Vacation", with all of the memories, good and bad, that go with those. I am prepared to be thankful and have a great time...
Yee Haa....Texas bound....I'll keep you posted....
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
She'll Always Have Paris...
One of Big Sis's friends e-mailed me over the weekend. She and her husband were in Switzerland visiting her in-laws, and they had been gifted with a 2 night trip to Paris. This was to be her first trip there, and she wanted to know what I thought she should see or do.
My first thought was, how lucky! To have the opportunity to take a quick 2 night, romantic trip to Paris is just amazing. Then I tried to give it some serious thought. After all, she hadn't been there before, and I wanted her to get the best she could out of her two days. I thought back to my first trip there years ago, taken with my sister-in-law. After years of studying french and dreaming of Paris, I had asked her to join me. In addition to her desire to see the City of Light, she wanted to retrace her father's steps during the war. He had lived right outside of Paris for a time, and she wanted to see if we could track down the house where he had stayed. This gave our trip a neat framework. We were there for a week,so we would have a chance to see the "biggies", including the Eiffel Tower and Notre Dame. Given my love of art and fashion, I also wanted to see the Louvre and a few of the couture shops.
I remember flying over the city right before we landed and seeing the Eiffel Tower in the distance. I had tears in my eyes, tears that would reappear many times over the next 7 days. As I thought about what to suggest to A. for her 2 day trip, I tried to remember what had meant the most to me during my stay. Of course I loved seeing the Tower, the Arc de Triomphe, Notre Dame....but the most precious memories were not of actual sights. The first morning there , when our breakfast was delivered to our room, I can still picture it. A perfectly set tray of croissants, espresso, fruit, and tiny jars of honey and jam, of which I would allow myself one so that I could stash the others to bring home, hoping to bring into my life a bit of Paris. The next memory which stood out was standing in front of the American Embassy trying to take a picture (sister-in-law's dad had been there), and being told by gendarmes that we were not allowed to photograph the Embassy. These same gendarmes were not allowed to be photographed, but they discreetly posed for us when we hid behind trees and snapped away.
My next best memory would be purchasing a pair of pink suede boots in a shop called Ines de ls Fressange. Ines was a famous model for Chanel, and she had opened a small shop of beautiful well-made clothes with prices that were more approachable than Chanel. As soon as I spotted these boots (in the sale section no less), I knew I had to have them. 20 years later, they sit on my shelf, still looking like new despite years of wear.
And lastly, the most haunting memory is taking the train outside of Paris to search for the house of my S-I-L's father. This required a bit of courage, because we would be totally dependent on my french to get us around and ask the pertinent questions. My french was certainly good enough, but my courage was iffy. But after a few hours of scouring neighborhoods and asking questions, we found what we thought was the house. My sister-in-law had tears in her eyes. I did too. It was a magical moment in life.
So as I visited memories, I tried to remember that Paris is more than just the museums and the Tower. Paris, for me at least, is a way of life. So while I suggested seeing the Louvre and the Tuilleries, I also suggested just taking the time to sit in a cafe and have an espresso or a glass of wine and just watch the people walk by. Because after all, it is the small moments that are sometimes the most meaningful...
I wish A. a lovely trip...I hope that 20 years from now, she will look back and feel the way I did when I think of my first trip there...
My first thought was, how lucky! To have the opportunity to take a quick 2 night, romantic trip to Paris is just amazing. Then I tried to give it some serious thought. After all, she hadn't been there before, and I wanted her to get the best she could out of her two days. I thought back to my first trip there years ago, taken with my sister-in-law. After years of studying french and dreaming of Paris, I had asked her to join me. In addition to her desire to see the City of Light, she wanted to retrace her father's steps during the war. He had lived right outside of Paris for a time, and she wanted to see if we could track down the house where he had stayed. This gave our trip a neat framework. We were there for a week,so we would have a chance to see the "biggies", including the Eiffel Tower and Notre Dame. Given my love of art and fashion, I also wanted to see the Louvre and a few of the couture shops.
I remember flying over the city right before we landed and seeing the Eiffel Tower in the distance. I had tears in my eyes, tears that would reappear many times over the next 7 days. As I thought about what to suggest to A. for her 2 day trip, I tried to remember what had meant the most to me during my stay. Of course I loved seeing the Tower, the Arc de Triomphe, Notre Dame....but the most precious memories were not of actual sights. The first morning there , when our breakfast was delivered to our room, I can still picture it. A perfectly set tray of croissants, espresso, fruit, and tiny jars of honey and jam, of which I would allow myself one so that I could stash the others to bring home, hoping to bring into my life a bit of Paris. The next memory which stood out was standing in front of the American Embassy trying to take a picture (sister-in-law's dad had been there), and being told by gendarmes that we were not allowed to photograph the Embassy. These same gendarmes were not allowed to be photographed, but they discreetly posed for us when we hid behind trees and snapped away.
My next best memory would be purchasing a pair of pink suede boots in a shop called Ines de ls Fressange. Ines was a famous model for Chanel, and she had opened a small shop of beautiful well-made clothes with prices that were more approachable than Chanel. As soon as I spotted these boots (in the sale section no less), I knew I had to have them. 20 years later, they sit on my shelf, still looking like new despite years of wear.
And lastly, the most haunting memory is taking the train outside of Paris to search for the house of my S-I-L's father. This required a bit of courage, because we would be totally dependent on my french to get us around and ask the pertinent questions. My french was certainly good enough, but my courage was iffy. But after a few hours of scouring neighborhoods and asking questions, we found what we thought was the house. My sister-in-law had tears in her eyes. I did too. It was a magical moment in life.
So as I visited memories, I tried to remember that Paris is more than just the museums and the Tower. Paris, for me at least, is a way of life. So while I suggested seeing the Louvre and the Tuilleries, I also suggested just taking the time to sit in a cafe and have an espresso or a glass of wine and just watch the people walk by. Because after all, it is the small moments that are sometimes the most meaningful...
I wish A. a lovely trip...I hope that 20 years from now, she will look back and feel the way I did when I think of my first trip there...
Friday, May 28, 2010
If You Don't Leave, You Can't Come back...
Here is the thing. If you leave without making a big deal out of it, then you are able to sneak back for a visit every now and then, right? It's been several weeks since my "final" blog, and in that time, an unbelievable amount of life has happened. At first, I continued to construct the blog in my mind, even though I wasn't writing it. It was a relief not to have to take the time to actually write it down. But the last few days, I missed it. Not the result or the feedback, which is what I expected to miss, but the act of putting it all into words. So over the summer, I've decided to jump back into the blog. I don't know how often. I guess I'll just see if anything interesting happens...
Today was the last day of school. The last few weeks have been a blur. 2 baseball tournaments, 1 softball tournament,a play, 2 dance recitals...and an exchange student from Paris. The last was by far the most rewarding, but I'll save that for another day.
This morning was not unlike many recent mornings in our house. After letting Little One and the Boy stay up way too late, their grumpiness was overwhelming. I thought I had prepared for this...you know, it's always my thought process that being totally prepared insures a smooth morning. Why do I never learn my lesson? When you have a 12 year old boy and 10 year old girl involved, mornings are never smooth sailing...
The Boy had to wear a shirt and tie for Honors Day. I had the shirt ironed and the tie and belt and shoes laying out....what I didn't expect is that the pants that had fit 2 months ago would now hover somewhere around the ankles. A year ago, The Boy would have said "they're fine, Mom". Not anymore. Out came the ironing board and a search for the proper fit.
Little One was having her Field Day. This required athletic shorts and a t-shirt. You'd think this would be easy....you'd think. Thankfully, she had laid it all out on her bed the night before. Unfortunately, the hair was not cooperating.Coupled with the fact that she could not find a library book that should have been turned in a week ago, she was a mess.
Normally, I roll my eyes and shake my head, and we head out the door at about the same time each day. But this morning, I was suppose to have breakfast with 2 friends to celebrate our last morning in lower school drop-off line.I hadn't let myself think about this too deeply...after all, a few weeks ago I had witnessed The Senior graduate from college. The fact that I would have 2 middle schoolers next year hadn't settled in. But if there was a way to find humor in this, these two would find it...so I was determined to be on time.
As I dropped them off and watched Little One enter the building for what would be her last time, I wasn't sure what to feel. Happy? Relieved? Sad? Not really any of the above. During our breakfast, my friends and I managed to discuss everything BUT this ending, so I was still left to ponder it throughout the day. I picked the kids up from school, and we were all strangely quiet. We headed to our traditional Last Day of School meal at the Pub near Grandma's. This has been a favorite with the kids since they were toddlers. The Husband joined us....and as I looked around table, I was once again reminded of how fast is all goes. The boy looked over and winked at me, like he was reading my mind. "Late bedtime tonight, right mom?" Well of course. Little One continued to plot out our next few days.
A few days at Grandma's house is always the cure for everything...I've been at this road in life before, but I won't be here again. It's an interesting place. I'm not really one to sit still and reflect...I'm usually planning my next step...But today, it's worth taking a moment to take it all in....
The last day of school is also the first day of summer....
Today was the last day of school. The last few weeks have been a blur. 2 baseball tournaments, 1 softball tournament,a play, 2 dance recitals...and an exchange student from Paris. The last was by far the most rewarding, but I'll save that for another day.
This morning was not unlike many recent mornings in our house. After letting Little One and the Boy stay up way too late, their grumpiness was overwhelming. I thought I had prepared for this...you know, it's always my thought process that being totally prepared insures a smooth morning. Why do I never learn my lesson? When you have a 12 year old boy and 10 year old girl involved, mornings are never smooth sailing...
The Boy had to wear a shirt and tie for Honors Day. I had the shirt ironed and the tie and belt and shoes laying out....what I didn't expect is that the pants that had fit 2 months ago would now hover somewhere around the ankles. A year ago, The Boy would have said "they're fine, Mom". Not anymore. Out came the ironing board and a search for the proper fit.
Little One was having her Field Day. This required athletic shorts and a t-shirt. You'd think this would be easy....you'd think. Thankfully, she had laid it all out on her bed the night before. Unfortunately, the hair was not cooperating.Coupled with the fact that she could not find a library book that should have been turned in a week ago, she was a mess.
Normally, I roll my eyes and shake my head, and we head out the door at about the same time each day. But this morning, I was suppose to have breakfast with 2 friends to celebrate our last morning in lower school drop-off line.I hadn't let myself think about this too deeply...after all, a few weeks ago I had witnessed The Senior graduate from college. The fact that I would have 2 middle schoolers next year hadn't settled in. But if there was a way to find humor in this, these two would find it...so I was determined to be on time.
As I dropped them off and watched Little One enter the building for what would be her last time, I wasn't sure what to feel. Happy? Relieved? Sad? Not really any of the above. During our breakfast, my friends and I managed to discuss everything BUT this ending, so I was still left to ponder it throughout the day. I picked the kids up from school, and we were all strangely quiet. We headed to our traditional Last Day of School meal at the Pub near Grandma's. This has been a favorite with the kids since they were toddlers. The Husband joined us....and as I looked around table, I was once again reminded of how fast is all goes. The boy looked over and winked at me, like he was reading my mind. "Late bedtime tonight, right mom?" Well of course. Little One continued to plot out our next few days.
A few days at Grandma's house is always the cure for everything...I've been at this road in life before, but I won't be here again. It's an interesting place. I'm not really one to sit still and reflect...I'm usually planning my next step...But today, it's worth taking a moment to take it all in....
The last day of school is also the first day of summer....
Thursday, April 22, 2010
"Promise me You'll Never Forget Me, Because if I Thought You Would, I'd Never Leave"....Pooh
If you've followed the saga of Brett Favre over the last few years, you'll understand the analogy I'm getting ready to make. A couple of years ago, Brett tearfully "retired" from the Green Bay Packers. Said he was too old to play. Said he had no more to give.....A few months later, after the smoke had cleared, he changed his mind. Most people were ecstatic (Ok, not his team, but that is another story). He came back and played another year for the New York Jets. At the end of that year, he again declared his retirement...once again emotionally saying that it was time....But a few months later, he stepped off a helicopter in Minnesota and became a Viking......After a terrific season (Ok Brother-In-Law, except for the last play of the season)..he has alluded to the fact that he is finished. But this time...nobody really paid much attention. No tears. No begging....kind of like "who cares"....
And so it goes for this blog writer. After proclaiming my retirement several times before ,I came back. The first time, it was because The Boy called me a quitter. The second time, it was because I missed the daily feedback from my hilarious, anonymous readers. But this time it is different. If you follow the blog, you've noticed that I haven't been posting as often. It gets harder and harder after a year to come up with fresh ideas. I've found myself completing an entire post before realising that I already wrote about the same thing last year...
And so today, on this lovely Thursday, I'm saying good-bye to my readers. This time, without drama or hesitation, because when it is time to go, it is time to go...I've enjoyed every minute of writing this blog, and I am full of appreciation for all of you who took the time to read it. Thanks to all of my international, cyber-space friends from Malaysia, Afghanistan, Italy, France...all of you who for some reason were interested in what The Boy, Little One, The Senior and Big Sis...not to mention The Husband......were doing on a daily basis. You disproved The Husband's theory that you just typed in "Bore me today", and up popped my blog...
Thanks to my immediate friends and family who read and commented on a daily basis. Remember, I am still here even if the blog is not...
And lastly, thanks to The Husband, who allowed me to "frame it out" my way......You will forever be my 'fodder'...
Love,
C'est La Vie Girl
And so it goes for this blog writer. After proclaiming my retirement several times before ,I came back. The first time, it was because The Boy called me a quitter. The second time, it was because I missed the daily feedback from my hilarious, anonymous readers. But this time it is different. If you follow the blog, you've noticed that I haven't been posting as often. It gets harder and harder after a year to come up with fresh ideas. I've found myself completing an entire post before realising that I already wrote about the same thing last year...
And so today, on this lovely Thursday, I'm saying good-bye to my readers. This time, without drama or hesitation, because when it is time to go, it is time to go...I've enjoyed every minute of writing this blog, and I am full of appreciation for all of you who took the time to read it. Thanks to all of my international, cyber-space friends from Malaysia, Afghanistan, Italy, France...all of you who for some reason were interested in what The Boy, Little One, The Senior and Big Sis...not to mention The Husband......were doing on a daily basis. You disproved The Husband's theory that you just typed in "Bore me today", and up popped my blog...
Thanks to my immediate friends and family who read and commented on a daily basis. Remember, I am still here even if the blog is not...
And lastly, thanks to The Husband, who allowed me to "frame it out" my way......You will forever be my 'fodder'...
Love,
C'est La Vie Girl
Monday, April 19, 2010
On Not Being the Cat Waiting for the Bird...
I was looking out the window this morning at our cat. He'd finished his breakfast and requisite morning scope of the neighborhood, searching for a second meal.Finally, he settled into his favorite spot...underneath the big tree in the back yard with the bird feeder. He will wait there all day long, silently staring up at the feeder for any sign of a bird. Now I have never seen him actually get one (and I hope I never do), but it doesn't stop him. He sits there day after day hoping to land a big catch...
Rewind the weekend a bit, and I was chastising myself this morning. As previously discussed in this blog, I am the middle child. What comes with this is an annoying tendency to constantly defend anything and everything. Charles Manson? Probably abused as a child. Hitler? Must have been ill. Sadaam Hussein? Bad mom. See? I can bring up an excuse for anyone. And I often have. The Husband often refuses to have a discussion with me for this reason. And to be quite honest, I can often annoy myself. I will be having a conversation with someone, and the voice in my head says "Why do you insist on doing that?".............However.....
I noticed this weekend that I have been doing it less and less. The Boy is on a new team this year, one filled with people I don't know very well. The Husband said I must be social and friendly. I must not sit and read a book. So I have tried. But what I have noticed is a tendency to "sit and wait for the bird". What I mean is, do you ever notice how many conversations tend to revolve around gossip or criticism? How many times that instead of discussing something positive or hopeful, it is easy to fall into a cynical or even critical way of talking. I was thinking about it this morning, and I think it is the result of lazy conversation. It's just easy to fall into the habit of complaining or criticizing something. For example, we played a very early game this weekend. We had to be at the field at 7:30, which meant rising at 6:30. Granted, our boys had just returned from their DC field trip and were tired...but come on...they are 12. It's not like we were throwing them out in the fields to work or something. They were coming to play baseball...and if you are on a travel baseball team, surely that is exciting. But instead of focusing on the fact that it was a beautiful day at the park, we all seem to be complaining about being tired...hungry...concessions stands...whatever.
Fast forward to yesterday and Little One's shining performance in her play. I found myself commiserating with a friend over some minor issues.....we had been set painters for the last few productions, and with 8 kids between us, we both have a tendency to need organisation. Unfortunately, in the local theater world, this does not always happen. But after the show was over, and the new Director was thanking everyone for their help, I felt a wash of shame come over me. Good grief, these people had just spent months putting on a major production. One that we are fortunate to have in such a small town....and all I could do was find the problems..."wait on the bird"...
I'm gonna work on this. I need to get back to my "middle child" syndrome, because in the end, I'd rather be defending than criticizing. I'd rather lift up than put down. And often times, all it takes is one person pointing out the good...and then everyone else follows....
Until tomorrow...and good words and thoughts for everyone....
Rewind the weekend a bit, and I was chastising myself this morning. As previously discussed in this blog, I am the middle child. What comes with this is an annoying tendency to constantly defend anything and everything. Charles Manson? Probably abused as a child. Hitler? Must have been ill. Sadaam Hussein? Bad mom. See? I can bring up an excuse for anyone. And I often have. The Husband often refuses to have a discussion with me for this reason. And to be quite honest, I can often annoy myself. I will be having a conversation with someone, and the voice in my head says "Why do you insist on doing that?".............However.....
I noticed this weekend that I have been doing it less and less. The Boy is on a new team this year, one filled with people I don't know very well. The Husband said I must be social and friendly. I must not sit and read a book. So I have tried. But what I have noticed is a tendency to "sit and wait for the bird". What I mean is, do you ever notice how many conversations tend to revolve around gossip or criticism? How many times that instead of discussing something positive or hopeful, it is easy to fall into a cynical or even critical way of talking. I was thinking about it this morning, and I think it is the result of lazy conversation. It's just easy to fall into the habit of complaining or criticizing something. For example, we played a very early game this weekend. We had to be at the field at 7:30, which meant rising at 6:30. Granted, our boys had just returned from their DC field trip and were tired...but come on...they are 12. It's not like we were throwing them out in the fields to work or something. They were coming to play baseball...and if you are on a travel baseball team, surely that is exciting. But instead of focusing on the fact that it was a beautiful day at the park, we all seem to be complaining about being tired...hungry...concessions stands...whatever.
Fast forward to yesterday and Little One's shining performance in her play. I found myself commiserating with a friend over some minor issues.....we had been set painters for the last few productions, and with 8 kids between us, we both have a tendency to need organisation. Unfortunately, in the local theater world, this does not always happen. But after the show was over, and the new Director was thanking everyone for their help, I felt a wash of shame come over me. Good grief, these people had just spent months putting on a major production. One that we are fortunate to have in such a small town....and all I could do was find the problems..."wait on the bird"...
I'm gonna work on this. I need to get back to my "middle child" syndrome, because in the end, I'd rather be defending than criticizing. I'd rather lift up than put down. And often times, all it takes is one person pointing out the good...and then everyone else follows....
Until tomorrow...and good words and thoughts for everyone....
Saturday, April 17, 2010
The Story of the Lady Who was Hushed at the Ball Field
The names in the following story have been changed to protect the not-so-innocent...
Once upon a time, it was a beautiful day at the baseball field. A dad was coaching his son's travel ball team, and all was going well. The son was pitching, the team was playing well and winning. But as was often the case, the dad was being a tad bit hard on the son. Now...it must be said that the dad was a pretty good coach, and besides a little bit of sarcasm which was unnecessary, he was very good with the other players. But if the son messed up, he was likely to hear about it, often in a voice that could be heard 3 fields down...
Anyway, on with our story...There was a runner on first. The son threw a pitch which was hit back to him very hard. He fielded the ball cleanly and turned and fired it to second, in time to get the runner. The boy who hit the ball was very fast, so a double play was never in question. Now, most of the fans were shouting congratulations to the son...but suddenly the dad/coach yelled "Son, you have to be QUICKER with the throw!!!." Well, at least 3 people in the crowd said "Oh no...he made a good play. No way they could have had the guy at first."....Now , the mom, who up to know had been sitting quietly minding her own business, was troubled. She knew that it was normal for the dad to be extra hard on the son...and she knew it was probably wise to stay quiet...but a voice inside her said "speak up". ...So the mom called out quietly to the dad...And in a calm voice which could not be taken for anything but concern, she said "Hey, he did throw it quickly...............". But before she was allowed to finish her thought, the dad shouted out "__________, (insert name of mom)....HUSH!!!". Well, a sudden hush flew over the stands. One of the dad's yelled out "He's a little testy today" in order to allay the total awkwardness of the situation. The mom turned to another mom and said "Did he just tell me to hush?" Whereupon the whole group of mothers burst out laughing. Because of course, none of them had ever heard this comment....at least not since they were 5.....and certainly not from their husbands....Later in the game, another mom attempted to tease the dad/coach about his behavior. His reponse? "Does Bobby Cox's (Atlanta Braves Coach) wife yell out to him?".....................Hmmm. See, now the wife understood...she had not understood that he was a Major League Baseball Coach.......SHE THOUHT IT WAS A 13 YR OLD TRAVEL BALL GAME!!!!!!
Well, hush she did. In fact, she had no conversation with the dad the rest of the game, and from what I hear, she does not plan on having any with him for several days...
So what is the moral of this story?......I'm not sure yet. Somewhere in the ball field etiquette rule book , there must be a rule about spousal disagreement. Something along the lines of "If the dad yells too loudly at the son, the mom is allowed to intervene"....
Until tomorrow...
--
Once upon a time, it was a beautiful day at the baseball field. A dad was coaching his son's travel ball team, and all was going well. The son was pitching, the team was playing well and winning. But as was often the case, the dad was being a tad bit hard on the son. Now...it must be said that the dad was a pretty good coach, and besides a little bit of sarcasm which was unnecessary, he was very good with the other players. But if the son messed up, he was likely to hear about it, often in a voice that could be heard 3 fields down...
Anyway, on with our story...There was a runner on first. The son threw a pitch which was hit back to him very hard. He fielded the ball cleanly and turned and fired it to second, in time to get the runner. The boy who hit the ball was very fast, so a double play was never in question. Now, most of the fans were shouting congratulations to the son...but suddenly the dad/coach yelled "Son, you have to be QUICKER with the throw!!!." Well, at least 3 people in the crowd said "Oh no...he made a good play. No way they could have had the guy at first."....Now , the mom, who up to know had been sitting quietly minding her own business, was troubled. She knew that it was normal for the dad to be extra hard on the son...and she knew it was probably wise to stay quiet...but a voice inside her said "speak up". ...So the mom called out quietly to the dad...And in a calm voice which could not be taken for anything but concern, she said "Hey, he did throw it quickly...............". But before she was allowed to finish her thought, the dad shouted out "__________, (insert name of mom)....HUSH!!!". Well, a sudden hush flew over the stands. One of the dad's yelled out "He's a little testy today" in order to allay the total awkwardness of the situation. The mom turned to another mom and said "Did he just tell me to hush?" Whereupon the whole group of mothers burst out laughing. Because of course, none of them had ever heard this comment....at least not since they were 5.....and certainly not from their husbands....Later in the game, another mom attempted to tease the dad/coach about his behavior. His reponse? "Does Bobby Cox's (Atlanta Braves Coach) wife yell out to him?".....................Hmmm. See, now the wife understood...she had not understood that he was a Major League Baseball Coach.......SHE THOUHT IT WAS A 13 YR OLD TRAVEL BALL GAME!!!!!!
Well, hush she did. In fact, she had no conversation with the dad the rest of the game, and from what I hear, she does not plan on having any with him for several days...
So what is the moral of this story?......I'm not sure yet. Somewhere in the ball field etiquette rule book , there must be a rule about spousal disagreement. Something along the lines of "If the dad yells too loudly at the son, the mom is allowed to intervene"....
Until tomorrow...
--
Friday, April 16, 2010
On Being Glad about the Big Return
The Boy comes home later today. This puts a smile on my face. He will most likely be tired and grumpy after a week of sharing a room with 3 other boys, but who cares? Tonight he will eat us out of house and home and beg to stay up late...and I will be thankful for 'life back to normal'.
Little One declares that she didn't miss him, but 2 nights ago, she lay in bed crying because her teeth were killing her after a 'braces adjustment". "Stupid Boy" she declared. "Stupid Boy what?" I asked. "He's not even here". She didn't answer, just laid there crying. "Do you miss him?"....."NO!"................."Maybe just a tiny bit?".......and there it was...a tiny, tiny nod of the head, so subtle that it may not have been visible to any other human eye besides her mom's....Minutes later, she denied the whole thing...
Last night, The Husband and I had a 'date night' at the Olive Garden. With Little One along. "Just pretend she isn't here" said The Husband. Now, what does the fact that I was unbelievably thrilled about this date tell you? Two things. I don't have very sophisticated culinary taste.....and I am always thrilled not to have to cook. The nice things about these dates is that I hear things from The Husband that may normally go unnoticed. Major things. I mean, it's not that we don't talk or communicate on a daily basis....but with 4 kids, several businesses, baseball, softball, dance, plays....sometimes the only things we cover during the course of a day is "Do I have any clean socks?" or "Do the Braves play tonight". So the chance to sit down to dinner together and chat about random "stuff' is nice. Last night, I learned a few new things...but the funny thing about The Husband is that he always swears he has told me these things. And I swear he hasn't. "You just don't listen to me" he says. This could be true, but I refuse to admit it. The fact is, The Husband has a tendency to be tad bit critical...so it may be true that I occasionally tune him out. But last night I was listening, and I fill like I acquired several weeks worth of information. This makes me happy. In fact, the only down-side of the evening was that I forgot my leftovers...which will make lunch so much less exciting today. (Not to mention the fact that The Husband chastised me the whole way home)
So today, as I await the "hour of return" for The Boy, I will be thankful for busy weeks and safe returns....
Little One declares that she didn't miss him, but 2 nights ago, she lay in bed crying because her teeth were killing her after a 'braces adjustment". "Stupid Boy" she declared. "Stupid Boy what?" I asked. "He's not even here". She didn't answer, just laid there crying. "Do you miss him?"....."NO!"................."Maybe just a tiny bit?".......and there it was...a tiny, tiny nod of the head, so subtle that it may not have been visible to any other human eye besides her mom's....Minutes later, she denied the whole thing...
Last night, The Husband and I had a 'date night' at the Olive Garden. With Little One along. "Just pretend she isn't here" said The Husband. Now, what does the fact that I was unbelievably thrilled about this date tell you? Two things. I don't have very sophisticated culinary taste.....and I am always thrilled not to have to cook. The nice things about these dates is that I hear things from The Husband that may normally go unnoticed. Major things. I mean, it's not that we don't talk or communicate on a daily basis....but with 4 kids, several businesses, baseball, softball, dance, plays....sometimes the only things we cover during the course of a day is "Do I have any clean socks?" or "Do the Braves play tonight". So the chance to sit down to dinner together and chat about random "stuff' is nice. Last night, I learned a few new things...but the funny thing about The Husband is that he always swears he has told me these things. And I swear he hasn't. "You just don't listen to me" he says. This could be true, but I refuse to admit it. The fact is, The Husband has a tendency to be tad bit critical...so it may be true that I occasionally tune him out. But last night I was listening, and I fill like I acquired several weeks worth of information. This makes me happy. In fact, the only down-side of the evening was that I forgot my leftovers...which will make lunch so much less exciting today. (Not to mention the fact that The Husband chastised me the whole way home)
So today, as I await the "hour of return" for The Boy, I will be thankful for busy weeks and safe returns....
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
On Wanting to Tell Your Story...
I sat for awhile in the Principal's office this afternoon at Little One's school. I had a slight issue to discuss with him, so I was patiently waiting for him to finish up with someone else before I had my turn. As I sat quietly taking it all in, I felt a renewed respect for the school secretary. In the 20 minutes that I was in there, she distributed 3 band aids, ice, 2 tissues, took 5 phone calls, made 4 copies...all while talking to teachers and monitoring the Principal's whereabouts....amazing.
When she stepped out of the room for a moment, in ran a little boy...I was guessing a kindergartner. Running down his knee was a tiny stream of blood. It was obvious to me, sitting across the room, that this was a minor scrape...a boo-boo as it were. But this little boy was not of the same opinion. He ran in and exclaimed "Excuse me!!! Excuse me!! I need some help!" Well, since I was the closest adult in sight, he looked at me. Now I had no idea where the band aids were kept, but his urgency made me want to at least pretend that I did....so I rose to my feet. As I did, the secretary came back in. "I need a band aid!" he shouted. Sweetly, she grabbed a tissue and instructed him to wipe it off. She sprayed some sort of anesthetic on it...to which he replied "It's feeling better already." She pulled out a band aid and began to apply it....and then it came. The question he had been dying to ask ever since he came in. "Wanna here how it happened?" ....Now I'm sure you think the secretary answered "Of course" or "tell me".....but no. She avoided the question all together and diverted him with a "You'll be fine". ....Now look...I didn't blame her one bit. I'll lay odds that she had heard similar stories at least 10 times today. I have no doubt that with only minutes to go in the day, she just couldn't listen to one more...
But the little boy was determined to be heard. You know that feeling when you have a story and you just have to tell it? And no matter what anyone says or how they try to avoid it...you find a way to get it out (This blog is a great way of accomplishing that)......Well, the boy began his story. And when the phone rang and the secretary turned to answer it...he just continued on, never even hesitating. In fact, he started talking to me as if I were somehow a worthy substitute for his attention. I could not hear a word he was saying above the din of the phone, teachers and all...but it didn't matter. All I had to do was nod my head and smile. When the secretary hung up the phone, she instructed him to head back to his class. He smiled and hobbled to his feet, putting on an Oscar-worthy performance as he limped out the door. The only problem was....he was limping on the wrong leg....
I thought about that little guy all afternoon. He made me miss my Boy. Day 2. Is this only Tuesday? I actually went up and stared at his un-made bed. I wondered what he was doing. I think tonight is the dinner cruise. Did he get the coach to tie his tie? Did he ask someone to dance? Is he getting any sleep? Is he having fun? All these questions I have. When I ask them out loud to The Husband...he answers like the school secretary...total avoidance, with a dash of condescension. "He''ll be fine". But even the Husband admitted to missing him. After all, he has nobody to throw on the floor and tackle...
So until tomorrow...or the next day...
When she stepped out of the room for a moment, in ran a little boy...I was guessing a kindergartner. Running down his knee was a tiny stream of blood. It was obvious to me, sitting across the room, that this was a minor scrape...a boo-boo as it were. But this little boy was not of the same opinion. He ran in and exclaimed "Excuse me!!! Excuse me!! I need some help!" Well, since I was the closest adult in sight, he looked at me. Now I had no idea where the band aids were kept, but his urgency made me want to at least pretend that I did....so I rose to my feet. As I did, the secretary came back in. "I need a band aid!" he shouted. Sweetly, she grabbed a tissue and instructed him to wipe it off. She sprayed some sort of anesthetic on it...to which he replied "It's feeling better already." She pulled out a band aid and began to apply it....and then it came. The question he had been dying to ask ever since he came in. "Wanna here how it happened?" ....Now I'm sure you think the secretary answered "Of course" or "tell me".....but no. She avoided the question all together and diverted him with a "You'll be fine". ....Now look...I didn't blame her one bit. I'll lay odds that she had heard similar stories at least 10 times today. I have no doubt that with only minutes to go in the day, she just couldn't listen to one more...
But the little boy was determined to be heard. You know that feeling when you have a story and you just have to tell it? And no matter what anyone says or how they try to avoid it...you find a way to get it out (This blog is a great way of accomplishing that)......Well, the boy began his story. And when the phone rang and the secretary turned to answer it...he just continued on, never even hesitating. In fact, he started talking to me as if I were somehow a worthy substitute for his attention. I could not hear a word he was saying above the din of the phone, teachers and all...but it didn't matter. All I had to do was nod my head and smile. When the secretary hung up the phone, she instructed him to head back to his class. He smiled and hobbled to his feet, putting on an Oscar-worthy performance as he limped out the door. The only problem was....he was limping on the wrong leg....
I thought about that little guy all afternoon. He made me miss my Boy. Day 2. Is this only Tuesday? I actually went up and stared at his un-made bed. I wondered what he was doing. I think tonight is the dinner cruise. Did he get the coach to tie his tie? Did he ask someone to dance? Is he getting any sleep? Is he having fun? All these questions I have. When I ask them out loud to The Husband...he answers like the school secretary...total avoidance, with a dash of condescension. "He''ll be fine". But even the Husband admitted to missing him. After all, he has nobody to throw on the floor and tackle...
So until tomorrow...or the next day...
Sunday, April 11, 2010
On Being the Mom that Cried....
The Boy is off to Washington DC this morning with his class. We.... well, I....spent all last evening packing for this trip. It's very tricky to pack a week's worth of clothes, including a coat and tie for a dinner cruise, into a small suitcase. I am worried I have things hidden where The Boy won't find them. I spent 30 minutes giving him a rundown on where everything was, but he was distracted by the Braves game, and only paid attention when he heard 'Ipod' and 'DS'.
I tried to explain the importance of folding dirty clothes and putting the shampoo back in the plastic bag, but even as I heard the words coming out of my mouth, I thought, really? Why would he do on a trip what he does not do at home? I cautioned him about not over-snacking or over coke-drinking as I packed 362 quarters in his tote bag. I suppose I am the Queen of mixed messages...
His first words when I woke him this morning were "Do I really have to go?" The Boy is, after all, a major homebody. Now my answer to this was almost "Of course not!" But I caught myself. The thought of a week without my Boy is gut-wrenching....he is my personality-equivalent in the household. He is able to cheer me up, make me laugh...whatever....with just a look. But I knew that what he needed from me was a little push. So I launched into the annoying mom lecture on how this was the opportunity of a lifetime....many people never even get the opportunity to go on a trip like this...This was all that was needed. He totally tuned me out and started worrying about what he would be eating for lunch and who he would choose to sit with...
Our ride to the bus was pleasant. I reminded him about manners and kindness and good decisions, and he patiently listened. I asked if it would be embarrassing to hug me...and thankfully, he said "No Prob".
I had planned on staying until the bus drove out of sight....but it seems that this was not to be the norm for everyone. The Boy was a "bus-loader"...so he would be busy for half an hour. Should I stay or should I go? I watched several people go...I watched The Boy laughing with his coach and friends...and I decided to untie that apron string just a bit....
I called The Boy over and said good-bye. I wished him a good trip. He gave me a big bear hug and a smile...and I cried. I didn't mean to, but I did. He patted me and said bye. His friends said good-bye to me and added "it's ok, Mrs. M"......I know, it's ok....
I stopped for coffee on the way home. I listened to sad songs on the radio. I cried some more. When I got home, The Husband was still sleeping, somehow immune to all of the emotion. Little One slipped down the stairs and asked for breakfast....life goes on.
So today, I'll think about that Boy every minute of the day...I'll hope and pray that he is safe and happy....and I'll hang on until next Friday....
I tried to explain the importance of folding dirty clothes and putting the shampoo back in the plastic bag, but even as I heard the words coming out of my mouth, I thought, really? Why would he do on a trip what he does not do at home? I cautioned him about not over-snacking or over coke-drinking as I packed 362 quarters in his tote bag. I suppose I am the Queen of mixed messages...
His first words when I woke him this morning were "Do I really have to go?" The Boy is, after all, a major homebody. Now my answer to this was almost "Of course not!" But I caught myself. The thought of a week without my Boy is gut-wrenching....he is my personality-equivalent in the household. He is able to cheer me up, make me laugh...whatever....with just a look. But I knew that what he needed from me was a little push. So I launched into the annoying mom lecture on how this was the opportunity of a lifetime....many people never even get the opportunity to go on a trip like this...This was all that was needed. He totally tuned me out and started worrying about what he would be eating for lunch and who he would choose to sit with...
Our ride to the bus was pleasant. I reminded him about manners and kindness and good decisions, and he patiently listened. I asked if it would be embarrassing to hug me...and thankfully, he said "No Prob".
I had planned on staying until the bus drove out of sight....but it seems that this was not to be the norm for everyone. The Boy was a "bus-loader"...so he would be busy for half an hour. Should I stay or should I go? I watched several people go...I watched The Boy laughing with his coach and friends...and I decided to untie that apron string just a bit....
I called The Boy over and said good-bye. I wished him a good trip. He gave me a big bear hug and a smile...and I cried. I didn't mean to, but I did. He patted me and said bye. His friends said good-bye to me and added "it's ok, Mrs. M"......I know, it's ok....
I stopped for coffee on the way home. I listened to sad songs on the radio. I cried some more. When I got home, The Husband was still sleeping, somehow immune to all of the emotion. Little One slipped down the stairs and asked for breakfast....life goes on.
So today, I'll think about that Boy every minute of the day...I'll hope and pray that he is safe and happy....and I'll hang on until next Friday....
Friday, April 9, 2010
Martha Washington Did Not Wear a Mini-Dress or Messy Bun...
This morning was Little One's long-awaited Biography Breakfast. This is the day when they dress up like a famous person from history that they are secretly-assigned to, do a short presentation, and see if their classmates can guess who they are. This is all done during a breakfast that is provided by the mothers (or fathers) of the students from the class.
Little One was assigned to be Martha Washington. This did not thrill her. "I wanted to be Amelia Eckert". .....Who? I asked............."You know, the lady flier. She wore pants"............Ah, you mean Amelia Earhart......
We scoured books and books to find a picture of Martha Washington that suited Little One. With each picture, she became more and more depressed. I tried to explain that this was meant to be a historical study, not a fashion show...but I was met with the glare that Little One often gives me, which means that I just do not understand anything. "Mom. I am not wearing some dumb long dress. And what is with her hair? Why do I have to be Mother of the Country? "...........Well, I had to admit that this may not have been a terrific match up for Little One, but I was determined to try and get her to have a good attitude. As I have said before, despite my penchant for Project Runway, I am not a gifted costume maker. This meant we would need to order something. Imagine my delight when I typed in "Martha Washington" on costume.com, and 5 things popped up. Unfortunately, Little One did not share my delight. She was visually appalled. "You will have to cut that dress and make it shorter." Well, you know, you agree to certain things just to make life easier...
Last night, when she tried on the costume, there were issues...and a loud argument ensued. I refused to cut the dress off at the knees....I had a feeling Martha had not been into mini-dresses. I also insisted that she wear her hair in a bun. Not one picture had shown Martha in flowy, Hannah Montanna hair....Little One put up her best fight, but finally relented and agreed to a "messy bun"....Ok, so this would be the sexy version of Martha Washington....
So this morning, I awoke to make chocolate chip pancakes at 6:00. These are the silly things you commit to weeks before the actual day. What the heck was I thinking? Oh well...hopefully it would put Little One in a good mood. When she clomped downstairs in her long dress and messy bun, I noticed she had on cowboy boots. Again, I felt that Martha would not have sported these under her gowns, but I kept my mouth shut. Like Little One, I occasionally feel the need to rebel a bit...
I delivered Little One and the pancakes to school and left....I had been dis-invited on the grounds that I would make her too nervous. So on this lovely Friday morning, I'm hoping that the presentation went well, and that the pancakes tasted ok....
Until tomorrow...
Little One was assigned to be Martha Washington. This did not thrill her. "I wanted to be Amelia Eckert". .....Who? I asked............."You know, the lady flier. She wore pants"............Ah, you mean Amelia Earhart......
We scoured books and books to find a picture of Martha Washington that suited Little One. With each picture, she became more and more depressed. I tried to explain that this was meant to be a historical study, not a fashion show...but I was met with the glare that Little One often gives me, which means that I just do not understand anything. "Mom. I am not wearing some dumb long dress. And what is with her hair? Why do I have to be Mother of the Country? "...........Well, I had to admit that this may not have been a terrific match up for Little One, but I was determined to try and get her to have a good attitude. As I have said before, despite my penchant for Project Runway, I am not a gifted costume maker. This meant we would need to order something. Imagine my delight when I typed in "Martha Washington" on costume.com, and 5 things popped up. Unfortunately, Little One did not share my delight. She was visually appalled. "You will have to cut that dress and make it shorter." Well, you know, you agree to certain things just to make life easier...
Last night, when she tried on the costume, there were issues...and a loud argument ensued. I refused to cut the dress off at the knees....I had a feeling Martha had not been into mini-dresses. I also insisted that she wear her hair in a bun. Not one picture had shown Martha in flowy, Hannah Montanna hair....Little One put up her best fight, but finally relented and agreed to a "messy bun"....Ok, so this would be the sexy version of Martha Washington....
So this morning, I awoke to make chocolate chip pancakes at 6:00. These are the silly things you commit to weeks before the actual day. What the heck was I thinking? Oh well...hopefully it would put Little One in a good mood. When she clomped downstairs in her long dress and messy bun, I noticed she had on cowboy boots. Again, I felt that Martha would not have sported these under her gowns, but I kept my mouth shut. Like Little One, I occasionally feel the need to rebel a bit...
I delivered Little One and the pancakes to school and left....I had been dis-invited on the grounds that I would make her too nervous. So on this lovely Friday morning, I'm hoping that the presentation went well, and that the pancakes tasted ok....
Until tomorrow...
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
On Missing the Dumb Cat...
It's been a few months since we lost the Dog. I still choke up occasionally...her water bowl, her leash....her old bed still sits at grandma's house. A good friend gave me a poignant book to read on life with our animals...but every time I pick it up, I cry and put it back down. But this is normal, I suppose. After 16 years, I took her lovely presence for granted...
But the darn cats are another story. I was never been a cat person, but I have become weirdly attached to the little one since the Dog left us. I pretend like I don't see her slip inside in the morning. She parks herself in the same chair and watches me paint for hours...and I'll admit it...I like it. I find myself talking to her, asking her opinion...very unlike me. I am even able to put up with the Boy's cat now. This cat has always been my mortal enemy...since the day he shoved his mamma over the deck railing to eat her food, I have disliked him. Every morning when I go out to feed him, he tries to push me out of the way...some how not grasping that I am there to feed him. It annoys me so much that I lecture him. But lately...I find myself cutting him some slack. He may not be very smart, but he is occasionally sweet...The Husband has assigned voices to each of the cats...and his voice is that of a 12 year old boy. And you just can't stay mad at a 12 year old boy for long...
So this morning...Mr. Boy Cat is AWOL. He didn't come home last night...and he didn't come back for breakfast. And this really bothers me. I have driven around looking in all of his secret places...but no luck. This guy does not like to miss a meal....so I am worried. I pretend to paint, but I keep checking the window......This is the reason for NOT having pets....I have filled the bird feeders with bird seed...The sight of all those birds will surely lure him back....
Until tomorrow...
But the darn cats are another story. I was never been a cat person, but I have become weirdly attached to the little one since the Dog left us. I pretend like I don't see her slip inside in the morning. She parks herself in the same chair and watches me paint for hours...and I'll admit it...I like it. I find myself talking to her, asking her opinion...very unlike me. I am even able to put up with the Boy's cat now. This cat has always been my mortal enemy...since the day he shoved his mamma over the deck railing to eat her food, I have disliked him. Every morning when I go out to feed him, he tries to push me out of the way...some how not grasping that I am there to feed him. It annoys me so much that I lecture him. But lately...I find myself cutting him some slack. He may not be very smart, but he is occasionally sweet...The Husband has assigned voices to each of the cats...and his voice is that of a 12 year old boy. And you just can't stay mad at a 12 year old boy for long...
So this morning...Mr. Boy Cat is AWOL. He didn't come home last night...and he didn't come back for breakfast. And this really bothers me. I have driven around looking in all of his secret places...but no luck. This guy does not like to miss a meal....so I am worried. I pretend to paint, but I keep checking the window......This is the reason for NOT having pets....I have filled the bird feeders with bird seed...The sight of all those birds will surely lure him back....
Until tomorrow...
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Do I Have to Play?
It's another beautiful morning here today. It looks like you could drink your coffee on the deck and watch the golfers...but it is still a little chilly for that (I did try). The Husband is already at work, but the kids are still sleeping...which means I get a few moments of bliss...
I am going to re-visit a familiar theme in this blog. The Boy and his friend..we will call him Z...decided they wanted to play basketball last night around 9:00. They wanted The Husband to play...and me....and they were willing to put up with Little one. The Husband and I looked at each other and yawned...and debated if we were in for the night. But they were persistent...so off we went to the court.
The last time I did this (Thanksgiving)...I came away with a black eye and a nose that looked broken. I had decided at that point that I was finished with any games with The Husband and Boy. But the friend and The Boy kept heaping on false praise ("Come on mom, you've still got game. Don't be a wimp!") And in a weak moment, I agreed to play. It was agreed that I would be on The Husband's team so that he would not be tempted to injure me. Little One would join us against the boys.
It was a rousing game. The Boy and friend are no longer little boys. They were playing together and coaching each other like it was NBA....and despite the fact that The Husband was saddled with the two girls...he held his own. I refused to go anywhere near the basket, because I was afraid of getting hurt. The one time I tried...the friend came down on me and then had to spend 10 minutes apologizing...Little One used her tactic of kicking their shins when they stole the ball from her...
At 10:00, the lights automatically go out at the gym...I admit to being thankful for this. The score was somewhere in the 100's...and I was ready for a shower and a good book. The boys were sweet and grateful that I had played.( "Thanks mom, you've still got game!...Yeah Mrs. M....nice shooting")...Please. It has come to this? The false flattery to make you feel better? How depressing. Of course, I convinced myself that having already run and worked out in the morning...I was just tired. Isn't it great how the mind can come up with excuses?...
We returned home and Little One and I became girls again and watched Project Runway reruns. The Boys watched the Hawks game and bragged about their game on facebook, not caring that I had to monitor every word...the Husband hit the couch with the paper and didn't move...a perfect night...
Until tomorrow....
I am going to re-visit a familiar theme in this blog. The Boy and his friend..we will call him Z...decided they wanted to play basketball last night around 9:00. They wanted The Husband to play...and me....and they were willing to put up with Little one. The Husband and I looked at each other and yawned...and debated if we were in for the night. But they were persistent...so off we went to the court.
The last time I did this (Thanksgiving)...I came away with a black eye and a nose that looked broken. I had decided at that point that I was finished with any games with The Husband and Boy. But the friend and The Boy kept heaping on false praise ("Come on mom, you've still got game. Don't be a wimp!") And in a weak moment, I agreed to play. It was agreed that I would be on The Husband's team so that he would not be tempted to injure me. Little One would join us against the boys.
It was a rousing game. The Boy and friend are no longer little boys. They were playing together and coaching each other like it was NBA....and despite the fact that The Husband was saddled with the two girls...he held his own. I refused to go anywhere near the basket, because I was afraid of getting hurt. The one time I tried...the friend came down on me and then had to spend 10 minutes apologizing...Little One used her tactic of kicking their shins when they stole the ball from her...
At 10:00, the lights automatically go out at the gym...I admit to being thankful for this. The score was somewhere in the 100's...and I was ready for a shower and a good book. The boys were sweet and grateful that I had played.( "Thanks mom, you've still got game!...Yeah Mrs. M....nice shooting")...Please. It has come to this? The false flattery to make you feel better? How depressing. Of course, I convinced myself that having already run and worked out in the morning...I was just tired. Isn't it great how the mind can come up with excuses?...
We returned home and Little One and I became girls again and watched Project Runway reruns. The Boys watched the Hawks game and bragged about their game on facebook, not caring that I had to monitor every word...the Husband hit the couch with the paper and didn't move...a perfect night...
Until tomorrow....
Friday, April 2, 2010
It's a Good Friday
It's a beautiful day on the golf course. I navigated hell and high water to get here (Grandma's house) for a few days...and it was worth it. There are more golfers out this morning than I have ever seen. Must be some sort of company team-building outing at the resort, because there were groups of well-dressed men riding around in carts at 7:30 this morning. So many that I cannot go out and discreetly drink my coffee in my night gown on the deck...a minor sacrifice....
Yesterday was full of major negotiations at our house. The Boy was determined to get a friend over for the night. I had already committed to another friend coming later today...a friend who is so much like part of our family that I never mind him being with us. You know, the kind of friend who you can yell at just like your own child. The kind of boy who you can say "don't give me that" or " would you hurry it up?'...or even better, "if you even think about it, you're in big trouble". But The Boy was pushing for a pre-friend for one night. Now, I did not really want to do this...but I had no pressing reason. And by 12:00, The Boy had given me 22 reasons why it would be a good idea. So I caved, and I gave myself 30 minutes to huff and puff around about it...and then we all had a good day. Little One's BFF had previous plans, but that was ok, because Little One had softball practice and then she and I were going to hop in bed and watch Project Runway. This is a real treat because it usually comes on too late for her....The Husband was especially thankful for this, as this meant he did not have to watch with me. He got to go play basketball with the boys and then watch that riveting movie "Rush Hour" for the 276th time...
This is Easter weekend, which sadly takes on a very different dynamic when your parents are gone. Big Sis and Senior have plans, so it will just be the 4 of us this year. Little One now knows that the Easter Bunny isn't real ("I Knew he couldn't hop all night long!!"), so this will be the first year in 26 years that I have not hidden Easter baskets...well, at least secretly. We still bought Easter dresses, but that may have been more about wanting a new dress than Easter. This is also the first year that we will go out for brunch instead of doing it at home. And for this, and many, many other things...I am very thankful...
I hear The Boys rising...which is a sign of a friend being here...because if you read this blog with any regularity..you know The Boy never rises before noon without a reason.
So today, on this lovely Good Friday, I wish everyone a wonderful Easter... a day that is all about new beginnings and faith, regardless of how you celebrate it...
Until tomorrow...
Yesterday was full of major negotiations at our house. The Boy was determined to get a friend over for the night. I had already committed to another friend coming later today...a friend who is so much like part of our family that I never mind him being with us. You know, the kind of friend who you can yell at just like your own child. The kind of boy who you can say "don't give me that" or " would you hurry it up?'...or even better, "if you even think about it, you're in big trouble". But The Boy was pushing for a pre-friend for one night. Now, I did not really want to do this...but I had no pressing reason. And by 12:00, The Boy had given me 22 reasons why it would be a good idea. So I caved, and I gave myself 30 minutes to huff and puff around about it...and then we all had a good day. Little One's BFF had previous plans, but that was ok, because Little One had softball practice and then she and I were going to hop in bed and watch Project Runway. This is a real treat because it usually comes on too late for her....The Husband was especially thankful for this, as this meant he did not have to watch with me. He got to go play basketball with the boys and then watch that riveting movie "Rush Hour" for the 276th time...
This is Easter weekend, which sadly takes on a very different dynamic when your parents are gone. Big Sis and Senior have plans, so it will just be the 4 of us this year. Little One now knows that the Easter Bunny isn't real ("I Knew he couldn't hop all night long!!"), so this will be the first year in 26 years that I have not hidden Easter baskets...well, at least secretly. We still bought Easter dresses, but that may have been more about wanting a new dress than Easter. This is also the first year that we will go out for brunch instead of doing it at home. And for this, and many, many other things...I am very thankful...
I hear The Boys rising...which is a sign of a friend being here...because if you read this blog with any regularity..you know The Boy never rises before noon without a reason.
So today, on this lovely Good Friday, I wish everyone a wonderful Easter... a day that is all about new beginnings and faith, regardless of how you celebrate it...
Until tomorrow...
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
The Generation of Entitlement
There is an interesting letter to the editor in today's Wall Street Journal. It is in response to Charles Krauthammer's article which blames the "looming debt bomb" on entitlement. The writer goes on to explain how the younger generation has grown up with 4 particular leanings:
1) Exaggerated sense of entitlement. If you need to understand what this means, read Tiger Wood's explanation of his recent actions.
2)A generation whose parents did not let debt ever prevent them from getting whatever they wanted....which led to record personal bankruptcies, foreclosures and personal debt.
3) A failure, or at least non-proficiency in basic math, which leads them to not understand the dangers of excess debt.
4) The 'American Idol' mentality that says we can all have it all at any cost...and a preoccupation with celebrity culture.
Because of these 4 reasons, we are creating a generation that basically says "Who cares" when it comes to national debt.
From a personal perspective, it's a scary proposition. In our household, it is a daily struggle to get the kids to take personal responsibility and realize that they do not "deserve" anything and everything they want just because they are our children.
A friend who works at the local university pointed out how students take no responsibility for paying their tuition or bills on time....and parents back them up. The system is now set up to send an e-mail, twitter, facebook...plus the old-fashioned phone call, whenever the student is past due. When did this start happening? When I was in school, it was my responsibility to get my tuition paid on time. Nobody reminded me, and if I forgot, I was dropped from class. If I would have called my parents and questioned them about it, they would have chastised me for being irresponsible.
The Boy constantly begs for a phone. He thinks he deserves one because most of his friends have them. I try and explain that this means nothing. I try and explain that he has to earn things...on many levels. I try and explain that the mere birth of him into this family does not entitle him to any and everything. I try and explain that being a good kid does not mean multiple trips to Target and Best Buy. An A in math or science is rewarded by the feeling of accomplishment....not a video game.
I worked all the way through college. My parents paid my first year of tuition at a private school...and I lOVED that school...but I had to pay for everything else...and at 16, this was a stretch. The next year, when they said it was my responsibility...I had decisions to make. My social life took a hit. I had to work 3 nights a week and on the weekends. Eventually, I had to transfer to the state university. But I never felt penalized. I never once said to my parents "hey, no fair". My older brother earned a full-scholarship to FSU in basketball. They bought him a Z-28 Camero to take with him. I was thrilled for him. He had worked hard to earn it...and I thought he deserved it.
I came from a generation that understood that you don't buy L'Oreal because "I'm worth it". We didn't need constant validation...and we didn't get it. If my parents said "Good job", that meant something. I took pride in working hard. And don't get me wrong, I always enjoyed the financial rewards...and I certainly made my share of decisions based on that....but I never minded putting in the work.
I wonder how all of the celebrity/reality mentality will affect our kids. Will they become immune to what it means to be recognized because of true hard work and excellence...and not just because you were on a show for 10 minutes? Will they realize that falling in love is probably something that is best not done on camera? Will they realize that fame means nothing, but character means everything? I don't know.
Don't get me wrong. I love American Idol as much as the next person. I automatically throw a pack of baseball cards in the buggy for The Boy just for fun. The fact that Little One 'needs' Converse in several colors doesn't phase me. I contribute to the "downfall" on every level. But at least I know it...
Until tomorrow, when I will try and climb down from my high horse....
1) Exaggerated sense of entitlement. If you need to understand what this means, read Tiger Wood's explanation of his recent actions.
2)A generation whose parents did not let debt ever prevent them from getting whatever they wanted....which led to record personal bankruptcies, foreclosures and personal debt.
3) A failure, or at least non-proficiency in basic math, which leads them to not understand the dangers of excess debt.
4) The 'American Idol' mentality that says we can all have it all at any cost...and a preoccupation with celebrity culture.
Because of these 4 reasons, we are creating a generation that basically says "Who cares" when it comes to national debt.
From a personal perspective, it's a scary proposition. In our household, it is a daily struggle to get the kids to take personal responsibility and realize that they do not "deserve" anything and everything they want just because they are our children.
A friend who works at the local university pointed out how students take no responsibility for paying their tuition or bills on time....and parents back them up. The system is now set up to send an e-mail, twitter, facebook...plus the old-fashioned phone call, whenever the student is past due. When did this start happening? When I was in school, it was my responsibility to get my tuition paid on time. Nobody reminded me, and if I forgot, I was dropped from class. If I would have called my parents and questioned them about it, they would have chastised me for being irresponsible.
The Boy constantly begs for a phone. He thinks he deserves one because most of his friends have them. I try and explain that this means nothing. I try and explain that he has to earn things...on many levels. I try and explain that the mere birth of him into this family does not entitle him to any and everything. I try and explain that being a good kid does not mean multiple trips to Target and Best Buy. An A in math or science is rewarded by the feeling of accomplishment....not a video game.
I worked all the way through college. My parents paid my first year of tuition at a private school...and I lOVED that school...but I had to pay for everything else...and at 16, this was a stretch. The next year, when they said it was my responsibility...I had decisions to make. My social life took a hit. I had to work 3 nights a week and on the weekends. Eventually, I had to transfer to the state university. But I never felt penalized. I never once said to my parents "hey, no fair". My older brother earned a full-scholarship to FSU in basketball. They bought him a Z-28 Camero to take with him. I was thrilled for him. He had worked hard to earn it...and I thought he deserved it.
I came from a generation that understood that you don't buy L'Oreal because "I'm worth it". We didn't need constant validation...and we didn't get it. If my parents said "Good job", that meant something. I took pride in working hard. And don't get me wrong, I always enjoyed the financial rewards...and I certainly made my share of decisions based on that....but I never minded putting in the work.
I wonder how all of the celebrity/reality mentality will affect our kids. Will they become immune to what it means to be recognized because of true hard work and excellence...and not just because you were on a show for 10 minutes? Will they realize that falling in love is probably something that is best not done on camera? Will they realize that fame means nothing, but character means everything? I don't know.
Don't get me wrong. I love American Idol as much as the next person. I automatically throw a pack of baseball cards in the buggy for The Boy just for fun. The fact that Little One 'needs' Converse in several colors doesn't phase me. I contribute to the "downfall" on every level. But at least I know it...
Until tomorrow, when I will try and climb down from my high horse....
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Love is Just a Word Until Someone Comes Along and Gives it Meaning
One of my best friends got married on Sunday. In a small, lovely city called Lille, in France. With a very small, what she would call "intime" group of family and friends there to witness it. I wish I could have been there. She knew it was coming...knew they were going to do it ....but due to work, children, and all of the intricasies of life...she just did not know exactly when. When I opened the picture she sent me yesterday, my heart leapt just a little bit. The joy on her face was touching. I have known her for 25 years, and I know by now that the look on her face was a long time coming. After a long difficult first marriage, a leveling divorce, and a few years of lonely times, a certain cynicism had crept in. The kind that prevents you from believing that somewhere down the road, good things can still happen.
I sat at a cafe in Paris with her a little over a year ago and cried with her. Life was literally knocking her for a loop. A divorce that should have concluded was dragging on and on. An ex-husband was behaving badly. He and I had never quite seen eye to eye on much (seeing as how he was the definitive french male chauvinist), but I had expected better of him. Her children had 'chosen sides', and she didn't want sides. Her pain was palpable, but at the time, all I could do was listen...and encourage....and remind her that we never know what tomorrow brings.We walked the streets of Paris, looked at at lot of art work...and she enjoyed spending time with my second generation of children. She had helped me raise the older two...and somehow, being around Little One and The Boy gave her hope. She is The Boy's godmother, and as different as they are, they forged a strong bond. Over many games of Uno and lots of chocolate mousse...he made her laugh. And she made him promise to hang a Van Gogh poster in his room and study french...and he has done both.
I have not met the wonderful "Francois" yet. In fact, I have heard little about him, because my friend is like me...she holds it all very close until she is sure. But I knew early on that this was 'it', whatever 'it' is. Because when someone who has been hurt very badly begins to smile and giggle...and once again see life as a good thing...you figure that 'it' must have happened.
And so today, I wish my friend love and happiness...and peace. Bon Mariage, Benedicte et Francois...et tout l'amour dans le monde...
Until tomorrow....
I sat at a cafe in Paris with her a little over a year ago and cried with her. Life was literally knocking her for a loop. A divorce that should have concluded was dragging on and on. An ex-husband was behaving badly. He and I had never quite seen eye to eye on much (seeing as how he was the definitive french male chauvinist), but I had expected better of him. Her children had 'chosen sides', and she didn't want sides. Her pain was palpable, but at the time, all I could do was listen...and encourage....and remind her that we never know what tomorrow brings.We walked the streets of Paris, looked at at lot of art work...and she enjoyed spending time with my second generation of children. She had helped me raise the older two...and somehow, being around Little One and The Boy gave her hope. She is The Boy's godmother, and as different as they are, they forged a strong bond. Over many games of Uno and lots of chocolate mousse...he made her laugh. And she made him promise to hang a Van Gogh poster in his room and study french...and he has done both.
I have not met the wonderful "Francois" yet. In fact, I have heard little about him, because my friend is like me...she holds it all very close until she is sure. But I knew early on that this was 'it', whatever 'it' is. Because when someone who has been hurt very badly begins to smile and giggle...and once again see life as a good thing...you figure that 'it' must have happened.
And so today, I wish my friend love and happiness...and peace. Bon Mariage, Benedicte et Francois...et tout l'amour dans le monde...
Until tomorrow....
Friday, March 26, 2010
"Adornment is Never Anything Except a Reflection of the Heart." Coco Chanel
I had lunch with a few friends yesterday. This is not something I often do, but we all carpool our sons in the afternoon, and it seemed like a good idea to get together and chat. It's always good to get another mom's perspective on homework, how often baseball clothes need to be washed, and what to pack for the upcoming field trip to DC.
I had a few errands to run beforehand, so I decided to dress up a little bit. It was a New Year's resolution of sorts to start dressing up a little more. I noticed last year that when I put on something besides my jeans and tank top, The Husband would ask where I was going. This told me that I might need to put a little more effort in to my appearance.
I have about 6 minutes to get ready in the morning, if I am lucky, and I generally do this in as little light as possible in order to avoid disturbing The Husband, who is still in bed. This means I can brush my hair, put on some lip gloss...and if I am really being fancy, a bit of eyeliner. I always spray the perfume too...I have to do this...it must be my genetic link to my french ancestors, because I feel naked without it. That generally leaves 2 minutes for clothes. Now, the first thing I see in my closet are my old torn jeans that I generally wear at some time or other everyday. They are my "go to" piece of clothing. The problem with those jeans is that a shirt or t-shirt must be thrown on too. Last year, I left my pajama top on a few times, and of course, those were the days in drop-off line at school that someone would walk up and say hello. See, school drop-off line fools you a bit. You think you can get by with the TV announcer trick of wearing a decent shirt with sweatpants or gym shorts.....because you know, everyone only sees you from the waist up...but you cannot get sucked into this thinking, because just when you do, a teacher will call out to you, and you will be forced to get out of your car and reveal the fact that you are wearing a blazer over your sweatpants.
The moms I lunched with commented on the fact that they have seen me wearing heels in the morning. This is true. But the fact is, I have only 3 choices in my shoe wardrobe...tennis shoes, heels or boots. I just don't do flat heels, and I only wear tennis shoes with my sweatpants. (This rule was drummed into me by my best friend in Paris who declared the American woman habit of wearing tennis shoes with anything but workout gear as "gauche")
It's so easy for men...you put on the suit or the khaki pants and dress shirt....and you are good to go. But for women, there are so many choices. And you know, just one more way to express yourself...and be judged for it.
Here is the thing. I like clothes. I like to look nice. No crime in that, right? I don't care what anybody else is wearing. I assume that most people are just trying to be comfortable or appropriate. But I spent several years watching people put together different "looks" for me to wear on a runway or in an ad...and I enjoyed it. It's a creative outlet. The other thing is...and this is probably something psychological that needs to be discussed in therapy...for the last several years of her life, my mom stopped putting a lot of care into her appearance. Especially after my father died. She just gave up. And this broke my heart. So sometimes, when I look in the mirror and I haven't tried very hard....it makes me so sad.
So today, I'm going to remember that what I wear is not always based only on function. Sometimes, it feels good to look in to the mirror and feel like those 6 minutes in the morning were put to good use...
Until tomorrow...
I had a few errands to run beforehand, so I decided to dress up a little bit. It was a New Year's resolution of sorts to start dressing up a little more. I noticed last year that when I put on something besides my jeans and tank top, The Husband would ask where I was going. This told me that I might need to put a little more effort in to my appearance.
I have about 6 minutes to get ready in the morning, if I am lucky, and I generally do this in as little light as possible in order to avoid disturbing The Husband, who is still in bed. This means I can brush my hair, put on some lip gloss...and if I am really being fancy, a bit of eyeliner. I always spray the perfume too...I have to do this...it must be my genetic link to my french ancestors, because I feel naked without it. That generally leaves 2 minutes for clothes. Now, the first thing I see in my closet are my old torn jeans that I generally wear at some time or other everyday. They are my "go to" piece of clothing. The problem with those jeans is that a shirt or t-shirt must be thrown on too. Last year, I left my pajama top on a few times, and of course, those were the days in drop-off line at school that someone would walk up and say hello. See, school drop-off line fools you a bit. You think you can get by with the TV announcer trick of wearing a decent shirt with sweatpants or gym shorts.....because you know, everyone only sees you from the waist up...but you cannot get sucked into this thinking, because just when you do, a teacher will call out to you, and you will be forced to get out of your car and reveal the fact that you are wearing a blazer over your sweatpants.
The moms I lunched with commented on the fact that they have seen me wearing heels in the morning. This is true. But the fact is, I have only 3 choices in my shoe wardrobe...tennis shoes, heels or boots. I just don't do flat heels, and I only wear tennis shoes with my sweatpants. (This rule was drummed into me by my best friend in Paris who declared the American woman habit of wearing tennis shoes with anything but workout gear as "gauche")
It's so easy for men...you put on the suit or the khaki pants and dress shirt....and you are good to go. But for women, there are so many choices. And you know, just one more way to express yourself...and be judged for it.
Here is the thing. I like clothes. I like to look nice. No crime in that, right? I don't care what anybody else is wearing. I assume that most people are just trying to be comfortable or appropriate. But I spent several years watching people put together different "looks" for me to wear on a runway or in an ad...and I enjoyed it. It's a creative outlet. The other thing is...and this is probably something psychological that needs to be discussed in therapy...for the last several years of her life, my mom stopped putting a lot of care into her appearance. Especially after my father died. She just gave up. And this broke my heart. So sometimes, when I look in the mirror and I haven't tried very hard....it makes me so sad.
So today, I'm going to remember that what I wear is not always based only on function. Sometimes, it feels good to look in to the mirror and feel like those 6 minutes in the morning were put to good use...
Until tomorrow...
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
"I think the thing to do is enjoy the ride while you're on it." Johnny Depp
I'm on the last stages of a painting for a friend. I've gone through the various stages that I usually go through when painting...love, hate, disgust, hope...and finally, content. When I walk by it now, I enjoy it. The Boy says it is good. Little One stares at the photo and then the painting for several minutes and then gives a thumbs up. There are still corrections be made, but it's at the point that I know it can be accomplished. This is my favorite period. I will leave it up and do it slowly. This is when I get to enjoy the process.
Little One's school conference was this morning. She was full of nerves. Her grades were fine and she never gets in trouble, but there is just something about a teacher conference that puts fear in a 10 year old. As the conference went on, I could see Little One start to relax and...well, not enjoy herself, but realize everything was going to be ok. Her teacher made a few well-timed jokes and she actually laughed and talked a bit. When we left, she said "That wasn't so bad'.
I wish I had learned earlier in my life how to let go of the worry and enjoy things more. I grew up with a constant sense of worry and tension about how I was doing....at everything. Whether it was swimming or painting or school work or modeling....whatever...I was constantly second-guessing myself. I guess a little of this is ok...it drives you to be better. But unfortunately, you wake up years later and ask yourself why you couldn't have worried a little less...and enjoyed it a bit more...
So today, as Little One and I do whatever her little heart desires, I will remember...and try to get her to remember....to enjoy the ride. Time goes by so quickly, and in the end, what we will remember about something is not the outcome, but the experience. Whether it's a painting or a conference, it's nice to do do your best and be pleased with the outcome...but it's even nicer to enjoy the process...
Until tomorrow...
Little One's school conference was this morning. She was full of nerves. Her grades were fine and she never gets in trouble, but there is just something about a teacher conference that puts fear in a 10 year old. As the conference went on, I could see Little One start to relax and...well, not enjoy herself, but realize everything was going to be ok. Her teacher made a few well-timed jokes and she actually laughed and talked a bit. When we left, she said "That wasn't so bad'.
I wish I had learned earlier in my life how to let go of the worry and enjoy things more. I grew up with a constant sense of worry and tension about how I was doing....at everything. Whether it was swimming or painting or school work or modeling....whatever...I was constantly second-guessing myself. I guess a little of this is ok...it drives you to be better. But unfortunately, you wake up years later and ask yourself why you couldn't have worried a little less...and enjoyed it a bit more...
So today, as Little One and I do whatever her little heart desires, I will remember...and try to get her to remember....to enjoy the ride. Time goes by so quickly, and in the end, what we will remember about something is not the outcome, but the experience. Whether it's a painting or a conference, it's nice to do do your best and be pleased with the outcome...but it's even nicer to enjoy the process...
Until tomorrow...
Monday, March 22, 2010
Don't Cry because It's Over. Smile Because it Happened. Dr. Seuss
The Boy was gone all weekend. What started out as a Friday night spend-the-night evolved into a full-fledged boys weekend. Late Friday, The Husband called and asked me to call The Boy at his friend's house to see if he wanted to go with another friend to their family farm after baseball practice the next day. Well, wait a minute. Didn't someone need to ask me first? After all, if truth be told, I hate it when The Boy spends the night away. The weekend is just not the same without him constantly asking for food and negotiating for more bedtime.
The Boy is my cheerleader. He is always worried about my comfort and my feelings. When he thinks someone has hurt me, he intercedes and either tackles me or jokes with me until I laugh. In other words, I like having him around for my own selfish reasons.
As I picked up the phone to call him at his friend's house. I was pretty sure he would decline the offer. The Boy is a home body, so I figured one night away would be enough for him. Uh, I was wrong. When I asked if he wanted to go....which I believe I phrased as "You don't want to go to.....do you?", he answered "Cool! Yeah. See ya." I hung up and stared at the phone. That would mean 2 days without him, 3 if you counted the fact that he and The Husband were going to the Hawks game Sunday which would really only leave him home long enough to do homework. I believe I actually teared up for a moment, but I quickly reminded myself to cut it out and loosen those apron strings. I grew up with 3 brothers, and I knew it was important to let The Boy do his thing. Nobody likes a "Momma's Boy"....well, except Momma.
The next morning, I was assigned the duty of taking Little One and BFF to play practice. They had spent the night together and were planning to spend the day...and another night together if only I would agree. After their practice, I suggested running by the baseball field to see The Boy. This did not go over well. I had to make several concessions in order to get them to agree. Another spend-the-night, a trip to the shoe store, s'mores for dinner....you get the picture. When they finally agreed, the rest of my day was already planned. Oh well, at least I would get to give The Boy a hug and kiss....
They were already on the field practicing when I got there. I sat up in the stands and watched awhile. The girls had made me agree to a half an hour...and it became increasingly clear that unless I planned on going out onto the field and chatting with him at first base...I was out of luck. I briefly considered doing this...but since The Husband was coaching, I could only imagine the lecture that might come from that. I tried to catch The Boy's eye...but it was just too hard from across the field. 30 minutes later, the girls literally yanked me out of the stands and demanded we head to the shoe store...
That night, as I made s'mores and debated with the girls who was prettier, Miley Cyrus or Selena Gomez, I missed The Boy. After asking The Husband for the hundredth time if he thought The Boy would be ok, he finally gave me the "get over it" look. Literally translated, this means "quit your sissy-girl whining and let me watch the basketball game". Of course, The Husband does not understand. He is not a mom. He is not prone to perpetual worrying. He doesn't sit around and come up with 454 ways that The Boy might get hurt. Nope, he just says "Let him be a boy".
Well, of course this was right. The next day, as I got out of the car to pick him up, it was all I could do not to embarrass him by throwing my arms around him. As he climbed in the car and handed me two days worth of dirty clothes, I told him I had missed him. He nodded and launched into a 15 minute description of 4 wheelers getting stuck in the mud and diving in a freezing lake. Such joy on his face. I sat and listened, happy that he had had so much fun , but a little amazed at how old he looked as he talked. I was proud of myself for restraining myself from trying to extract some kind of declaration of how he had missed home. It was clear that he hadn't given it a moment's thought...
A few hours later, I took him to meet The Husband so they could head off to the basketball game. As I climbed out of the car, he called me over to his window. I walked over and told him to have fun. " Kiss me pretty momma". Ok, so I had to fight some tears back. Letting go isn't always easy...
In a few weeks, he heads to Washington D.C. for a week on a class fieldtrip....This will require a lot of preparation on my part.....
The Boy is my cheerleader. He is always worried about my comfort and my feelings. When he thinks someone has hurt me, he intercedes and either tackles me or jokes with me until I laugh. In other words, I like having him around for my own selfish reasons.
As I picked up the phone to call him at his friend's house. I was pretty sure he would decline the offer. The Boy is a home body, so I figured one night away would be enough for him. Uh, I was wrong. When I asked if he wanted to go....which I believe I phrased as "You don't want to go to.....do you?", he answered "Cool! Yeah. See ya." I hung up and stared at the phone. That would mean 2 days without him, 3 if you counted the fact that he and The Husband were going to the Hawks game Sunday which would really only leave him home long enough to do homework. I believe I actually teared up for a moment, but I quickly reminded myself to cut it out and loosen those apron strings. I grew up with 3 brothers, and I knew it was important to let The Boy do his thing. Nobody likes a "Momma's Boy"....well, except Momma.
The next morning, I was assigned the duty of taking Little One and BFF to play practice. They had spent the night together and were planning to spend the day...and another night together if only I would agree. After their practice, I suggested running by the baseball field to see The Boy. This did not go over well. I had to make several concessions in order to get them to agree. Another spend-the-night, a trip to the shoe store, s'mores for dinner....you get the picture. When they finally agreed, the rest of my day was already planned. Oh well, at least I would get to give The Boy a hug and kiss....
They were already on the field practicing when I got there. I sat up in the stands and watched awhile. The girls had made me agree to a half an hour...and it became increasingly clear that unless I planned on going out onto the field and chatting with him at first base...I was out of luck. I briefly considered doing this...but since The Husband was coaching, I could only imagine the lecture that might come from that. I tried to catch The Boy's eye...but it was just too hard from across the field. 30 minutes later, the girls literally yanked me out of the stands and demanded we head to the shoe store...
That night, as I made s'mores and debated with the girls who was prettier, Miley Cyrus or Selena Gomez, I missed The Boy. After asking The Husband for the hundredth time if he thought The Boy would be ok, he finally gave me the "get over it" look. Literally translated, this means "quit your sissy-girl whining and let me watch the basketball game". Of course, The Husband does not understand. He is not a mom. He is not prone to perpetual worrying. He doesn't sit around and come up with 454 ways that The Boy might get hurt. Nope, he just says "Let him be a boy".
Well, of course this was right. The next day, as I got out of the car to pick him up, it was all I could do not to embarrass him by throwing my arms around him. As he climbed in the car and handed me two days worth of dirty clothes, I told him I had missed him. He nodded and launched into a 15 minute description of 4 wheelers getting stuck in the mud and diving in a freezing lake. Such joy on his face. I sat and listened, happy that he had had so much fun , but a little amazed at how old he looked as he talked. I was proud of myself for restraining myself from trying to extract some kind of declaration of how he had missed home. It was clear that he hadn't given it a moment's thought...
A few hours later, I took him to meet The Husband so they could head off to the basketball game. As I climbed out of the car, he called me over to his window. I walked over and told him to have fun. " Kiss me pretty momma". Ok, so I had to fight some tears back. Letting go isn't always easy...
In a few weeks, he heads to Washington D.C. for a week on a class fieldtrip....This will require a lot of preparation on my part.....
Friday, March 19, 2010
This and That (After the Break)
I took a blog-break this week. I had something to do every morning that had me avoiding my computer. Wednesday morning I met a good friend for coffee. I am always amazed at the sheer number of subjects we can cover in a 2 hour period. We ordered our coffee from Starbucks, and two hours later, I still had half a cup left. This differs from my usual practice of finishing my cup between the drive-through and my house. I'm repeating a theme that I have visited in the blog many times before, but having a friend of this caliber is a true blessing in life. I met her on the steps of Little One's preschool 10 years ago, and we have been on the same wavelength ever since. When I have exciting news, I call her. When I have devastating news, I call her. And everything in between. I can always count on a kind, honest and supportive ear. We may not live near each anymore, but I always feel close to her nevertheless.
Last night, I came in from Little One's softball practice about 9:30. We had gone there straight from The Boy's game, so there was still dinner, bath and homework to do. I was tired and grumpy and pretty sure that I was going to miss my beloved Project Runway. The light on the answering machine was flashing , so I pushed play. I wished I hadn't. On it was a voice reminding me that I had volunteered to distribute art projects to all of the lower school rooms in the morning. Now I had volunteered for this months ago...and isn't that what always happens? You say yes long in advance and then ask yourself "What was I thinking?" Anyway, I psyched myself into "positive mode", and a very nice co-volunteer and myself miraculously completed the project in a couple of hours.
I started a new workout routine this week. After taking a few months off due to the heart issues, I decided it was time to start back. I pulled out one of my old Cindy Crawford videos which was always guaranteed to bring results in a few weeks. I started it on Tuesday morning, proud of myself for getting through part of it. It had always been difficult, so I had cut myself a bit of slack. By Wednesday morning, I was in pain. I could barely walk up the stairs to wake the kids for school. Each step was torture. I gave myself a day off, but this morning after the volunteer duty, I was determined to try it again. I made it a little longer this time, but not without some major groaning. As you get older, your head tells you you can do anything you want, but your body sometimes disagrees. I'm hoping I will eventually accomplish the whole tape...
The Boy is spending the night with a friend tonight. Little One and BFF are upstairs doing each other's hair. The Husband has put in the most violent movie he owns, so I'm content on this Friday night to retire to the bedroom and watch the episode of Project Runway that I missed...
Thank goodness the weekend is here...
Last night, I came in from Little One's softball practice about 9:30. We had gone there straight from The Boy's game, so there was still dinner, bath and homework to do. I was tired and grumpy and pretty sure that I was going to miss my beloved Project Runway. The light on the answering machine was flashing , so I pushed play. I wished I hadn't. On it was a voice reminding me that I had volunteered to distribute art projects to all of the lower school rooms in the morning. Now I had volunteered for this months ago...and isn't that what always happens? You say yes long in advance and then ask yourself "What was I thinking?" Anyway, I psyched myself into "positive mode", and a very nice co-volunteer and myself miraculously completed the project in a couple of hours.
I started a new workout routine this week. After taking a few months off due to the heart issues, I decided it was time to start back. I pulled out one of my old Cindy Crawford videos which was always guaranteed to bring results in a few weeks. I started it on Tuesday morning, proud of myself for getting through part of it. It had always been difficult, so I had cut myself a bit of slack. By Wednesday morning, I was in pain. I could barely walk up the stairs to wake the kids for school. Each step was torture. I gave myself a day off, but this morning after the volunteer duty, I was determined to try it again. I made it a little longer this time, but not without some major groaning. As you get older, your head tells you you can do anything you want, but your body sometimes disagrees. I'm hoping I will eventually accomplish the whole tape...
The Boy is spending the night with a friend tonight. Little One and BFF are upstairs doing each other's hair. The Husband has put in the most violent movie he owns, so I'm content on this Friday night to retire to the bedroom and watch the episode of Project Runway that I missed...
Thank goodness the weekend is here...
Monday, March 15, 2010
Only Those With a Strong Stomach Need Read...
We spent the last weekend of Spring Break at Grandma's house, always a joy for me. I enjoyed the peace and quiet, but this was interrrupted by a minor 'crisis'. I ran to the store to grab a few items, and when I returned, I was met at the door by both The Boy and Little One. This is never a good sign. Little one immediately told me that "something really bad" had happened, while The Boy stood by with a helpless look on his face. I was led to the back bathroom which they share, only to discover that the toilet had over-flowed. Now, this really doesn't describe the scene. When I say overflowed...I mean flooded the entire bathroom...
I'll admit my first reaction was not a good one, but in the end...this sort of thing is really nobody's fault, so I regained control. My first decision was what to "go in" with. I needed the sort of get up that you imagine people wearing into a nuclear plant...boots, space suit, bubble mask, etc. But these were not available...so I settled on high-heeled boots, gym shorts and grungy t-shirt. I sent The Boy away, knowing that the overwhelming mess and smell would only make him sick. But Little One stood by, waiting to help like a trooper. I waded over to the toilet, only to find that The Boy had made an effort to "plunge" with a broken plunger. I quickly sent Little One on a reconnaisence search for another plunger....and she found one. Next, I plunged for several minutes, and just when I was about to give up, I heard that lovely gulping sound....and thankfully, everything went down.
Next, I surveyed the area and charted my course. First I threw down several towels. This barely put a dent in things, but after Little One rolled them up and delivered them to the washer, things began to improve. I sprayed the entire room with Lysol, and began the herculean task of wiping up. You know how when you see someone throw up, you feel like doing the same...well, now you know how I felt. But half an hour later, that bathroom was sparkling clean. Little One and I shook hands and admired our work. The Boy shook his head in disbelief...a miracle had occurred....
When we got home last night, The Boy went up for his shower. As The Husband and I were chatting in the den, we heard a strange sound in the kitchen. We sprinted in just in time to see a stream of water pouring from a light in the ceiling. The Poor Boy...he had once again inadvertently caused an issue. When I ran up and told him to turn off the water, he exclaimed "This was not my fault!" Well, of course not. These things happen....and usually in 3's....
So today, I am going to hold my breath and hope that the third thing was the smoke alarm battery dying at 4:00 this morning....
Until tomorrow....
I'll admit my first reaction was not a good one, but in the end...this sort of thing is really nobody's fault, so I regained control. My first decision was what to "go in" with. I needed the sort of get up that you imagine people wearing into a nuclear plant...boots, space suit, bubble mask, etc. But these were not available...so I settled on high-heeled boots, gym shorts and grungy t-shirt. I sent The Boy away, knowing that the overwhelming mess and smell would only make him sick. But Little One stood by, waiting to help like a trooper. I waded over to the toilet, only to find that The Boy had made an effort to "plunge" with a broken plunger. I quickly sent Little One on a reconnaisence search for another plunger....and she found one. Next, I plunged for several minutes, and just when I was about to give up, I heard that lovely gulping sound....and thankfully, everything went down.
Next, I surveyed the area and charted my course. First I threw down several towels. This barely put a dent in things, but after Little One rolled them up and delivered them to the washer, things began to improve. I sprayed the entire room with Lysol, and began the herculean task of wiping up. You know how when you see someone throw up, you feel like doing the same...well, now you know how I felt. But half an hour later, that bathroom was sparkling clean. Little One and I shook hands and admired our work. The Boy shook his head in disbelief...a miracle had occurred....
When we got home last night, The Boy went up for his shower. As The Husband and I were chatting in the den, we heard a strange sound in the kitchen. We sprinted in just in time to see a stream of water pouring from a light in the ceiling. The Poor Boy...he had once again inadvertently caused an issue. When I ran up and told him to turn off the water, he exclaimed "This was not my fault!" Well, of course not. These things happen....and usually in 3's....
So today, I am going to hold my breath and hope that the third thing was the smoke alarm battery dying at 4:00 this morning....
Until tomorrow....
Friday, March 12, 2010
Time to go Home
It's always a little sad when leaving day arrives. Though it's been a wonderful week, it's hard not to feel that "just one more day' feeling this morning. It's lovely and sunny, and I can think of a million things I'd like to do...but it's time to go home.
Usually I dread the clean up/pack routine, but I don't know if it was the lack of pets or what...but there doesn't seem to be much to clean. The Boy never even pulled his sheets back all week...just slept on top. Little One was her usual neat self...even The Husband kept the clutter to a minimum. As far as packing goes, there is always the fact that I didn't get to bring a suitcase that makes packing a bit easier...
I cannot figure out why I didn't get more reading accomplished this time. I brought 5 new books, yet I barely finished one. I did do a lot of thinking and a little working out. I also made my way through several magazines...but still, I figured I'd get through 2 or 3. The book I finished was entitled "The Happiness Project"....a very interesting read. The author undertook a year's project of figuring out how to be a happier person...not because she was depressed or anything...but as a wife and mother of 2 and a full-time writer, she felt herself spending too much time in 'mean and unsatisfied' mode. The book is an exploration into how she managed to change her attitudes and actions. It was very interesting...with some very worthwhile assignments. I'll be trying out my own version of the 'Happiness Project" in weeks to come...
So until tomorrow, when we will be home, and Spring Break is officially over...
Usually I dread the clean up/pack routine, but I don't know if it was the lack of pets or what...but there doesn't seem to be much to clean. The Boy never even pulled his sheets back all week...just slept on top. Little One was her usual neat self...even The Husband kept the clutter to a minimum. As far as packing goes, there is always the fact that I didn't get to bring a suitcase that makes packing a bit easier...
I cannot figure out why I didn't get more reading accomplished this time. I brought 5 new books, yet I barely finished one. I did do a lot of thinking and a little working out. I also made my way through several magazines...but still, I figured I'd get through 2 or 3. The book I finished was entitled "The Happiness Project"....a very interesting read. The author undertook a year's project of figuring out how to be a happier person...not because she was depressed or anything...but as a wife and mother of 2 and a full-time writer, she felt herself spending too much time in 'mean and unsatisfied' mode. The book is an exploration into how she managed to change her attitudes and actions. It was very interesting...with some very worthwhile assignments. I'll be trying out my own version of the 'Happiness Project" in weeks to come...
So until tomorrow, when we will be home, and Spring Break is officially over...
Thursday, March 11, 2010
On Figuring Out the Blog...
As hoped, the beach has given me time to figure out what to do about the blog. Or maybe it was my best friend, who said to me "It doesn't have to be all black and white." She's right. I forget that sometimes. There can be some gray area in life, although that is dificult for someone like me who grew up with lots of black and white. Anyway, enough of the analogies...
The blog will continue, but instead of the normal 23 minutes a day devoted to it, I will now set the egg timer for 15 minutes. The other 8 minutes will be spent on a new blog totally devoted to fashion. Don't worry. Only those whose heart skipped a beat at that news will be exposed to it. In fact, they are already receiving it. Those of you who skip the blog when the title has anything like "fashion" in it can now rest easy. I will no longer bore you with this. This truly excites me because I am always hesitant to write about it, dreading the comments that inevitably come...Now I can be free to research and write about what I truly love in the new one...yet continue this one also.
The continuation of this blog will also be less pressure, because as stated last week, I have completed the year worth of blogging. I will be editing that year and turning it into a best-selling book entitled "My Year in the Blog". Look for it on your bookstore shelves in, oh, say a couple of years. When I go back and read the beginning of the blog, I see that I really did not find my true "voice" for several weeks. Therefore, there is much editing to be done. I'm considering doing my own illustrations too, which may tag on another year's worth of work.
For those of you who are reading the fashion blog (http://www.robyn-lafemmechic.blogspot.com), please be patient. It will take me awhile to find the right balance of information and opinion. This may take time....
So until tomorrow, because the timer has just gone off, and I need to get out on the beach...
The blog will continue, but instead of the normal 23 minutes a day devoted to it, I will now set the egg timer for 15 minutes. The other 8 minutes will be spent on a new blog totally devoted to fashion. Don't worry. Only those whose heart skipped a beat at that news will be exposed to it. In fact, they are already receiving it. Those of you who skip the blog when the title has anything like "fashion" in it can now rest easy. I will no longer bore you with this. This truly excites me because I am always hesitant to write about it, dreading the comments that inevitably come...Now I can be free to research and write about what I truly love in the new one...yet continue this one also.
The continuation of this blog will also be less pressure, because as stated last week, I have completed the year worth of blogging. I will be editing that year and turning it into a best-selling book entitled "My Year in the Blog". Look for it on your bookstore shelves in, oh, say a couple of years. When I go back and read the beginning of the blog, I see that I really did not find my true "voice" for several weeks. Therefore, there is much editing to be done. I'm considering doing my own illustrations too, which may tag on another year's worth of work.
For those of you who are reading the fashion blog (http://www.robyn-lafemmechic.blogspot.com), please be patient. It will take me awhile to find the right balance of information and opinion. This may take time....
So until tomorrow, because the timer has just gone off, and I need to get out on the beach...
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
It's a Boy!
Ok, quite honestly, it is harder to blog when things are going well. The Big News of the day is that Big Sis is having a....BOY! Congrats to the SIL who has already planned his sports career. I will be calling him Riley regardless of what name they choose....I will, of course, do this in private.
Had a lovely walk on the beach this morning with The Husband while The Boy and Little One slept. We had about 5 minutes of meaningful conversation before his work calls began, which actually worked out fine, since I was in quiet mode.
Unfortunately, the family in the condo below us who pays for wifi has left...so we were stuck without internet today. This became good news for me when The Husband said we would be going to the bookstore. I never mind that trip. Little One immediately planned her stuffed animal of choice....and The Boy was happy to know that he would have uninterrupted facebook and MLB draft time. Since there is a Target next door, Little One and I had to once again see if they had any different stuff...which they did. The Husband could not say anything since he and The Boy were loaded down with baseball cards. Little One and I spent a good hour coming up with names for the new stuffed doggie. 75% of her stuffed animals are named 'Butterscotch' or "Amy'...so i always lobby for something different. Today I won, and we agreed upon 'Caramel'.
We did come up with tentative summer plans. I once again asked for Paris, and Little One agreed. The guys vetoed it once again, so Little One and I will plan this trip on our own. We'll see if Big Sis, Senior and Niece want to come. Instead, it was decided that we will do Texas this year. The Husband loves Austin, and he even owns some land somewhere around there. This sounds good to me, especially since we will probably hit a Texas Rangers game. I love to plan trips, so this gives me something to look forward to. I believe I heard the word "fly" too, which means I will at least get a carry-on bag....
So until tomorrow, with a few more days of sunshine and beach to come....
Had a lovely walk on the beach this morning with The Husband while The Boy and Little One slept. We had about 5 minutes of meaningful conversation before his work calls began, which actually worked out fine, since I was in quiet mode.
Unfortunately, the family in the condo below us who pays for wifi has left...so we were stuck without internet today. This became good news for me when The Husband said we would be going to the bookstore. I never mind that trip. Little One immediately planned her stuffed animal of choice....and The Boy was happy to know that he would have uninterrupted facebook and MLB draft time. Since there is a Target next door, Little One and I had to once again see if they had any different stuff...which they did. The Husband could not say anything since he and The Boy were loaded down with baseball cards. Little One and I spent a good hour coming up with names for the new stuffed doggie. 75% of her stuffed animals are named 'Butterscotch' or "Amy'...so i always lobby for something different. Today I won, and we agreed upon 'Caramel'.
We did come up with tentative summer plans. I once again asked for Paris, and Little One agreed. The guys vetoed it once again, so Little One and I will plan this trip on our own. We'll see if Big Sis, Senior and Niece want to come. Instead, it was decided that we will do Texas this year. The Husband loves Austin, and he even owns some land somewhere around there. This sounds good to me, especially since we will probably hit a Texas Rangers game. I love to plan trips, so this gives me something to look forward to. I believe I heard the word "fly" too, which means I will at least get a carry-on bag....
So until tomorrow, with a few more days of sunshine and beach to come....
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
This and That at the Beach...
Poor Little One. She woke up in the night not feeling well. I'm not sure if it is some kind of stomach bug, or the over-abundance of beef jerky that she consumed yesterday. All I know is, she looks exhausted and has nothing left in her stomach...
Big Sis and SIL have to go home today. Tomorrow is the big day...they will find out Boy or Girl. We are all kind of betting Girl...but this is based on very little anything. Big Sis is still in the stage where something sounds good, but as soon as she starts to eat it, it doesn't anymore. ( She promises this has nothing to do with my cooking...)
Yesterday, we split up into Boy/Girl activities. We girls went to get our nails done, and the boys went to the ball field. After our nails were dry, Big Sis, Little One and myself scooted over to Target, because you know, it is always imperative to see if this Target has the same stuff as the one at home. We roamed the aisles for awhile, and suddenly my phone rang. It was The Husband. "We're at Target. Do you need anything?" .......Suddenly I heard The Boy. I looked up and saw them over at the register. Now, here is one of the mysteries on life. Their cart was full of baseball cards, video games and cokes. Our cart was full of costume jewelry, sunglasses and lip gloss...
I've been poking fun at The Husbnad the last few days, so today, I am going to thank him for something. Sound the trumpets...Last night, I put in my new video called "The September Issue". This is sort of a documentary on the workings of Vogue magazine. If you saw 'The Devil Wears Prada', , well, this is the real life version, concentrating on the life of Anna Wintour, the editor. I have been looking forward to watching it all week. Now Big Sis and SIL tried to watch it, but unfortunately, their PBS show 'Kel On Earth" was on. (Ok, not a PBS show). The Boy asked about 3 questions about it, but when he realized there was no violence, he grabbed his DS and left the room. Little One watched for 30 seconds and then went to watch Hannah Montanna. But The Husband...he not only watched it, but he listened to my running narrative, asked questions...and pretended to care. This totally forgives the lack of suitcase space and the 'No offense" comment. I really enjoyed it....and I appreciated the effort....
So today, I'm sorry to see Big Sis go, but excited to hear her news. It's another beautiful day here at the beach. I have a lot to be thankful for...
Big Sis and SIL have to go home today. Tomorrow is the big day...they will find out Boy or Girl. We are all kind of betting Girl...but this is based on very little anything. Big Sis is still in the stage where something sounds good, but as soon as she starts to eat it, it doesn't anymore. ( She promises this has nothing to do with my cooking...)
Yesterday, we split up into Boy/Girl activities. We girls went to get our nails done, and the boys went to the ball field. After our nails were dry, Big Sis, Little One and myself scooted over to Target, because you know, it is always imperative to see if this Target has the same stuff as the one at home. We roamed the aisles for awhile, and suddenly my phone rang. It was The Husband. "We're at Target. Do you need anything?" .......Suddenly I heard The Boy. I looked up and saw them over at the register. Now, here is one of the mysteries on life. Their cart was full of baseball cards, video games and cokes. Our cart was full of costume jewelry, sunglasses and lip gloss...
I've been poking fun at The Husbnad the last few days, so today, I am going to thank him for something. Sound the trumpets...Last night, I put in my new video called "The September Issue". This is sort of a documentary on the workings of Vogue magazine. If you saw 'The Devil Wears Prada', , well, this is the real life version, concentrating on the life of Anna Wintour, the editor. I have been looking forward to watching it all week. Now Big Sis and SIL tried to watch it, but unfortunately, their PBS show 'Kel On Earth" was on. (Ok, not a PBS show). The Boy asked about 3 questions about it, but when he realized there was no violence, he grabbed his DS and left the room. Little One watched for 30 seconds and then went to watch Hannah Montanna. But The Husband...he not only watched it, but he listened to my running narrative, asked questions...and pretended to care. This totally forgives the lack of suitcase space and the 'No offense" comment. I really enjoyed it....and I appreciated the effort....
So today, I'm sorry to see Big Sis go, but excited to hear her news. It's another beautiful day here at the beach. I have a lot to be thankful for...
Monday, March 8, 2010
On 'No Offense' and Other Sweet Phrases....
I am not a fabulous cook. This is a well-established fact in my family. I am really not even defensive about it. I do the best I can given the little time and lack of talent I posses in this area. Between work, school, sports practices, dance classes...and the fact that The Husband just plain likes to eat out...I think I do ok. I have a few no-fail meals that always make everyone happy, and in the last few years, my holiday meals, taken directly from food Network recipes, have been big hits. Even Big Sis said " I have recently begun to enjoy your meals".....Wow, thanks for that...
Now given this preface, let me also say that the last few years, whenever we go to the beach. I bring some new recipes along and try to be creative. Last year, I made delicious meatball sandwiches for New Years. They were such a big hit that The Husband copied them at Thanksgiving and overshadowed my sub-par turkey. I also tackled a new chicken dish over the summer which met with approval. This trip, I decided to bring along the recipe for Applebee's baby back ribs. The Boy loves these and I thought I would surprise him. The first morning here, I was making a grocery list for The Husband. As I was explaining my list to him, he said..in front of everyone...."No offense Hon, but let's don't get too ambitious". This was of course done with a wink to the SIL, who made a valiant effort not to double over in laughter, but failed. Now here is my problem with that statement:
Never start a sentence with "No Offense, but".......It does not soften the blow one single bit. It only says "Get ready to be insulted." It means that you know what you are about to say is mean, so you are going to make a pathetic attempt to somehow sound like it pains you to have to say it.
Last night during the Oscars, Big Sis and I were discussing the possibility of me dying my hair a shade of red, a la Julianne Moore. Forgetting who she was dealing with, Big Sis said to The Husband "Hey, don't you think mom's hair would be pretty that color of red?" Well come on. We all knew what was coming. He looked up from his computer screen and glanced at the TV and then at me...he then paused and waited for a particular poorly groomed man to appear, and he replied "It would look as good as me doing my hair like that." The he looked at me and said "No offense, Hon".
The Husband uses this phrase often. He feels it allows him to say anything. It is like my mom felt about the phrase "Bless her heart". This was her catch all phrase for "She looks terrible, but I'll just tag on 'bless her heart' so it doesn't sound so mean." The Boy has taken to using it, too. But he uses it a little differently. He tags it on to the end of a disrespectful comment that he feels sure has cost him some bedtime. Something like "That just sucks Mom!....No offense". I blame The Husband for role modeling this behavior.
I believe there are no magic erasers in speech. You can't say something mean and then say "Just kidding". The damage is done. So for the remainder of this trip, we will be eating out. Since I was not allowed to bring a suitcase of clothes, I have nothing appropriate for anything nicer than 'WhatABurger'. This suits The Husband and The Boy just fine....In fact, it may have been the plan....
No offense....
Now given this preface, let me also say that the last few years, whenever we go to the beach. I bring some new recipes along and try to be creative. Last year, I made delicious meatball sandwiches for New Years. They were such a big hit that The Husband copied them at Thanksgiving and overshadowed my sub-par turkey. I also tackled a new chicken dish over the summer which met with approval. This trip, I decided to bring along the recipe for Applebee's baby back ribs. The Boy loves these and I thought I would surprise him. The first morning here, I was making a grocery list for The Husband. As I was explaining my list to him, he said..in front of everyone...."No offense Hon, but let's don't get too ambitious". This was of course done with a wink to the SIL, who made a valiant effort not to double over in laughter, but failed. Now here is my problem with that statement:
Never start a sentence with "No Offense, but".......It does not soften the blow one single bit. It only says "Get ready to be insulted." It means that you know what you are about to say is mean, so you are going to make a pathetic attempt to somehow sound like it pains you to have to say it.
Last night during the Oscars, Big Sis and I were discussing the possibility of me dying my hair a shade of red, a la Julianne Moore. Forgetting who she was dealing with, Big Sis said to The Husband "Hey, don't you think mom's hair would be pretty that color of red?" Well come on. We all knew what was coming. He looked up from his computer screen and glanced at the TV and then at me...he then paused and waited for a particular poorly groomed man to appear, and he replied "It would look as good as me doing my hair like that." The he looked at me and said "No offense, Hon".
The Husband uses this phrase often. He feels it allows him to say anything. It is like my mom felt about the phrase "Bless her heart". This was her catch all phrase for "She looks terrible, but I'll just tag on 'bless her heart' so it doesn't sound so mean." The Boy has taken to using it, too. But he uses it a little differently. He tags it on to the end of a disrespectful comment that he feels sure has cost him some bedtime. Something like "That just sucks Mom!....No offense". I blame The Husband for role modeling this behavior.
I believe there are no magic erasers in speech. You can't say something mean and then say "Just kidding". The damage is done. So for the remainder of this trip, we will be eating out. Since I was not allowed to bring a suitcase of clothes, I have nothing appropriate for anything nicer than 'WhatABurger'. This suits The Husband and The Boy just fine....In fact, it may have been the plan....
No offense....
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