Tuesday was Bible Study. Peach and Ace go to "school", while I go do my Beth Moore thing. Well we have Church at our Parish on Sunday, they have "nursery". Then there's Mother's Day Out at a different Church and Tuesday Bible study at yet a third. So there's always a question of which "school" they're going to today.
As we got ready for Bible Study on Tuesday Peach asked, "Can I take a friend" (Read stuffed animal)
"No baby, we can't take a friend today."
"Why not?"
"Because we don't want to loose it."
"I won't loose it."
"We're not taking a friend today."
Later, putting on shoes, "Please can I bring a friend?"
"No baby."
"Well last time I took my doodle bear."
"I know, but the teacher asked us not to bring toys."
"Why not?"
"Because they have their own toys they want you to play with."
While putting in ponytails, "Could I just bring this smallest puppy?"
"No Peach. We are not bringing any toys today."
"Can I bring it in the car?"
"I guess so. You can bring it in the car but not inside."
While walking to the car, "When we get there can I just take it in the building?"
"No, remember, we can't take it in."
"But could I just take it in and then put it in your purse?"
I make a full stop, turn around and look down at her and said, "Baby, why are you so set on taking that toy inside the building?"
"Because you're being boss of the toys."
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Monday, August 28, 2006
A Random Bitch
I had one of those days.
It was all good. Went to Walmart, remembered things I didn't have written down. Resisted temptation and ate lunch at home instead of drivin'-thru. Had my dinner planned. I don't know what happened.
I looked up and it was 2:00 and I didn't have the wonder-twins down for a nap and I was running out of time fast. And then it just snowballed down the hill from there. Melee' and Zoey got home and I'm trying to crack down on the snack-fest that's been happening every afternoon, which drew immediate tears from Melee'. Peach got up on the wrong side of bed, which is the side she layed down on. She and Ace fight over this one stuffed dog. It belongs to Ace. He and Melee' got these matching puppies in there stockings a year ago, only Ace's is smaller than Melee's. So by virtue of it's smaller cuteness, it's the one Peach just has to have. And of course, because it's the thing she desires to have most in the world, he's not giving in. She went to nap with the words "But, that's the puppy IIIIII want...." (sob..sob) and woke up with the words "Why does he always get that puppy?" (sob...sob) Ace woke up crying as well saying "She blahblah * indistinguishable mumble* and she push me." Of course she was downstairs at the time and he was safely tucked in his crib.
I went in the kitchen to police Snack-fest and start my dinner and I'm busing plates and cups and drinks and yelling "AT THE TABLE! YOU HAVE TO HAVE THAT AT THE TABLE! BRING THAT BACK IN HERE! NO EATING IN THE LIVING ROOM! IF ANYBODY ELSE TAKES ANYTHING ELSE TO EAT IN THE LIVING ROOM YOU'RE GETTING A SPANKING! I MEAN IT! YOU SPILLED WHAT? WHERE WERE YOU! I TOLD YOU TO SIT AT THE TABLE!" And during my fourth whirl through the living room I find yet ANOTHER apple with two bites taken out of it, then, as I turn back into the kitchen, there's Ace standing on the chair that I keep taking back to the kitchen table, eating another bite out of A DIFFERENT APPLE! I might have said a curse word under my breath. (and so did you after you read that huge run-on sentence)
The capper was Ace standing at the top of the stairs yelling for me by my first name (cause now he's heard Zoey saying it) at the top of his lungs, like a mini-Marlon Brando screaming 'STELLA! STEEEELLLLLAAAA!!!" I made him march to the kitchen, got down to his level and said "My name is MOMMA, don't you call me Geraldine any more, do you hear me?" Head down, "Yes maam."
It was all good. Went to Walmart, remembered things I didn't have written down. Resisted temptation and ate lunch at home instead of drivin'-thru. Had my dinner planned. I don't know what happened.
I looked up and it was 2:00 and I didn't have the wonder-twins down for a nap and I was running out of time fast. And then it just snowballed down the hill from there. Melee' and Zoey got home and I'm trying to crack down on the snack-fest that's been happening every afternoon, which drew immediate tears from Melee'. Peach got up on the wrong side of bed, which is the side she layed down on. She and Ace fight over this one stuffed dog. It belongs to Ace. He and Melee' got these matching puppies in there stockings a year ago, only Ace's is smaller than Melee's. So by virtue of it's smaller cuteness, it's the one Peach just has to have. And of course, because it's the thing she desires to have most in the world, he's not giving in. She went to nap with the words "But, that's the puppy IIIIII want...." (sob..sob) and woke up with the words "Why does he always get that puppy?" (sob...sob) Ace woke up crying as well saying "She blahblah * indistinguishable mumble* and she push me." Of course she was downstairs at the time and he was safely tucked in his crib.
I went in the kitchen to police Snack-fest and start my dinner and I'm busing plates and cups and drinks and yelling "AT THE TABLE! YOU HAVE TO HAVE THAT AT THE TABLE! BRING THAT BACK IN HERE! NO EATING IN THE LIVING ROOM! IF ANYBODY ELSE TAKES ANYTHING ELSE TO EAT IN THE LIVING ROOM YOU'RE GETTING A SPANKING! I MEAN IT! YOU SPILLED WHAT? WHERE WERE YOU! I TOLD YOU TO SIT AT THE TABLE!" And during my fourth whirl through the living room I find yet ANOTHER apple with two bites taken out of it, then, as I turn back into the kitchen, there's Ace standing on the chair that I keep taking back to the kitchen table, eating another bite out of A DIFFERENT APPLE! I might have said a curse word under my breath. (and so did you after you read that huge run-on sentence)
The capper was Ace standing at the top of the stairs yelling for me by my first name (cause now he's heard Zoey saying it) at the top of his lungs, like a mini-Marlon Brando screaming 'STELLA! STEEEELLLLLAAAA!!!" I made him march to the kitchen, got down to his level and said "My name is MOMMA, don't you call me Geraldine any more, do you hear me?" Head down, "Yes maam."
Sunday, August 27, 2006
Jet Ski For Sale
I've never been a big fan of the water. Maybe it was the fact that I grew up in the Panhandle, where pools were few and far between. Maybe it was the swimming lessons at the Y that my mom made me take when I was about six. I don't remember a lot of things about my childhood but I have a VERY vivid memory of the leafy swimming cap she made me wear to classes I didn't want to be taking, where people made me put my face under the water. Maybe it was her water phobia that I unknowingly inherited.
I remember after Jaws came out at the theaters, I started having nightmares about sharks in the swimming pool, bathtub and toilet. I didn't even see the movie. Didn't need to. Going to the Lake has always been ify business for me at best. I even had the opportunity to snorkel in Hanama Bay in Hawaii after I graduated High School. Five minutes of fighting off hyperventalating in knee deep water, and I swam right up to some idiot who was throwing bread in the water, next thing I knew, a school of fish swam at me and I shot three feet in the air and high stepped it to the beach in record time.
When John was eighteen months old, his Dad got a wild hair about a Jet Ski. We went to the dealer and as we're impulse buyers, we left with a three seater Tigershark 900. Although it seemed like a fun idea, I knew it was never gonna happen for me. The first time we went out to the lake, he drove and I rode with a vise grip around his waist, choking the life out of him. It was one of the scariest things I'd ever done. Then he let me drive.
I was a bad ass, or at least I imagined I was. I needed a tatoo because it was just like riding a motorcycle, only in the water where it wouldn't hurt if you fell off. I hauled, I swerved, I splashed, I sprayed, I had the time of my life. We packed up John and toys, and swim diapers and went skiing on the "play-play" as many weekends as we could for the next couple of years.
Life happens, three more kids and although we still have the Jet Ski I can't remember the last time we took it out to the lake. We've never taken the time to find a place around here to put it in. This weekend my friend emailed me this :
This picture was taken by a KTBS helicopter flying over Lake Conroe ! (For those of you who are not local, Lake Conroe is in Conroe , TX .) That has to be a HUGE gator to have a whole deer in its mouth! Are you ready to go skiing on Lake Conroe ?! If you ski at the west end of the lake -- try not to fall.
I remember after Jaws came out at the theaters, I started having nightmares about sharks in the swimming pool, bathtub and toilet. I didn't even see the movie. Didn't need to. Going to the Lake has always been ify business for me at best. I even had the opportunity to snorkel in Hanama Bay in Hawaii after I graduated High School. Five minutes of fighting off hyperventalating in knee deep water, and I swam right up to some idiot who was throwing bread in the water, next thing I knew, a school of fish swam at me and I shot three feet in the air and high stepped it to the beach in record time.
When John was eighteen months old, his Dad got a wild hair about a Jet Ski. We went to the dealer and as we're impulse buyers, we left with a three seater Tigershark 900. Although it seemed like a fun idea, I knew it was never gonna happen for me. The first time we went out to the lake, he drove and I rode with a vise grip around his waist, choking the life out of him. It was one of the scariest things I'd ever done. Then he let me drive.
I was a bad ass, or at least I imagined I was. I needed a tatoo because it was just like riding a motorcycle, only in the water where it wouldn't hurt if you fell off. I hauled, I swerved, I splashed, I sprayed, I had the time of my life. We packed up John and toys, and swim diapers and went skiing on the "play-play" as many weekends as we could for the next couple of years.
Life happens, three more kids and although we still have the Jet Ski I can't remember the last time we took it out to the lake. We've never taken the time to find a place around here to put it in. This weekend my friend emailed me this :
This picture was taken by a KTBS helicopter flying over Lake Conroe ! (For those of you who are not local, Lake Conroe is in Conroe , TX .) That has to be a HUGE gator to have a whole deer in its mouth! Are you ready to go skiing on Lake Conroe ?! If you ski at the west end of the lake -- try not to fall.
This man is 6'5" tall.
1997 Arctic Cat Tigershark Jet Ski with Trailer for sale. $600. Pickup only.
Saturday, August 26, 2006
Thursday, August 24, 2006
One More Reason Why You Don't Want to Spend the Night with Me
So maybe you can overlook the fact that I have four kids ranging in age from Loud to Just Busted My Ear Drum. Perhaps you can even get over the fact that the only bed I have to offer you is a kids twin size bed, trundle or bunk. But what are you going to think, when you wake up at 1:12 in the morning to find a wide-eyed, crazy haired, forty year old woman standing quietly at the foot of your bed?
That's my brother's dilema this morning.
For the record, "Sorry, Dude."
It's just that I have this anxiety thing. It usually takes me about six months after we move into a new house for my subconcious to learn all the thumps, bumps and creaks during the night. This move has been the exception to the rule. Four years in and I still find myself waking up in the middle of the night with adrenaline rushing through my body, having just heard some noise. My husband often finds me standing at the bedroom window and says "Are you o.k.?" "Yea, I just heard Maverick barking across the street." "Do you see anything?" "No. It looks good." After learning his services are not required, he usually rolls over and goes back to sleep. Some nights, it's a noise I can't identify and after determining that the anxiety isn't going to subside, I have to give him an elbow in the side so he can jump up, turn in to his alter ego, Super Fruit of the Loom Man and search the far reaches of the house so I can go back to sleep.
I've tried a lot of things. I try to talk myself out of it. I pray to Jesus. I pretend it's daylight outside. I turn on every outside light we have and sometimes leave a radio playing softly on the back porch. Surely no intruder in his right mind would come around the back, if he thought someone was chillin on the patio. Unless he's in a party kind of mood. I've slept with big sticks by the side of my bed. And the thing that usually works for me is locking my bedroom door.
That kind of logic only makes me more insane. What kind of woman, afraid that some terrible intuder is coming in the house to get her, leaves her children unprotected down the hall, while she locks herself in her own room. Oh, I've thought about it. But realistically, I can't have the kids sleep with me, as I don't want my crazy to rub off. So I tell myself that it's o.k. because I know nobody's breaking in the house.
Last night I tried calling Charlie at 1:00 a.m., but evidently his phone wasn't getting a signal. Or maybe he didn't want to play Super Fruit of the Loom Man long distance on the phone. I layed down and tried to talk myself out of it after I had surveyed the neighborhood from my upstairs window. Finally I got up and decided it would be required that I go downstairs and check all the door and window locks. Downstairs. Without Fruit of the Loom Man. I stood at the end of my brother's bed with Crazy Woman on one shoulder and Logic Girl on the other.
"Don't wake him up, you can do iiit."
"Yea, but if you tell him you're going downstairs, that way, he'll be able to call the police when he hears you scream."
"Don't be an Ass, there's nobody down there."
"Maybe, but what about that screen the kids played with yesterday? Don't you think they left the window unlocked."
"Shit."
"Mmm-hmm. Now what you got to say for yourself? You know he left the keys in his car too. The one with your house key on it."
"Shit. SHIT!"
Whereupon my brother opens his eyes and sits up, having sensed being in the presence of an unstable mind. "Huh? What?"
"Um, did you just get up and go to the bathroom, cause ... I just thought I heard someone get up? Was that you?"
"No."
"Oh. Okay. Just checkin. See you in the morning."
Having secured my unwitting back-up, I headed downstairs to find all windows and doors secured. All keys in place. No one hiding in the utility room. I turned on all the porch lights and headed back to my room, locked the door, and went back to sleep.
I wonder if tonight, he'll feel compelled to knock on my door in the middle of the night to tell me he's got to go tee-tee.
That's my brother's dilema this morning.
For the record, "Sorry, Dude."
It's just that I have this anxiety thing. It usually takes me about six months after we move into a new house for my subconcious to learn all the thumps, bumps and creaks during the night. This move has been the exception to the rule. Four years in and I still find myself waking up in the middle of the night with adrenaline rushing through my body, having just heard some noise. My husband often finds me standing at the bedroom window and says "Are you o.k.?" "Yea, I just heard Maverick barking across the street." "Do you see anything?" "No. It looks good." After learning his services are not required, he usually rolls over and goes back to sleep. Some nights, it's a noise I can't identify and after determining that the anxiety isn't going to subside, I have to give him an elbow in the side so he can jump up, turn in to his alter ego, Super Fruit of the Loom Man and search the far reaches of the house so I can go back to sleep.
I've tried a lot of things. I try to talk myself out of it. I pray to Jesus. I pretend it's daylight outside. I turn on every outside light we have and sometimes leave a radio playing softly on the back porch. Surely no intruder in his right mind would come around the back, if he thought someone was chillin on the patio. Unless he's in a party kind of mood. I've slept with big sticks by the side of my bed. And the thing that usually works for me is locking my bedroom door.
That kind of logic only makes me more insane. What kind of woman, afraid that some terrible intuder is coming in the house to get her, leaves her children unprotected down the hall, while she locks herself in her own room. Oh, I've thought about it. But realistically, I can't have the kids sleep with me, as I don't want my crazy to rub off. So I tell myself that it's o.k. because I know nobody's breaking in the house.
Last night I tried calling Charlie at 1:00 a.m., but evidently his phone wasn't getting a signal. Or maybe he didn't want to play Super Fruit of the Loom Man long distance on the phone. I layed down and tried to talk myself out of it after I had surveyed the neighborhood from my upstairs window. Finally I got up and decided it would be required that I go downstairs and check all the door and window locks. Downstairs. Without Fruit of the Loom Man. I stood at the end of my brother's bed with Crazy Woman on one shoulder and Logic Girl on the other.
"Don't wake him up, you can do iiit."
"Yea, but if you tell him you're going downstairs, that way, he'll be able to call the police when he hears you scream."
"Don't be an Ass, there's nobody down there."
"Maybe, but what about that screen the kids played with yesterday? Don't you think they left the window unlocked."
"Shit."
"Mmm-hmm. Now what you got to say for yourself? You know he left the keys in his car too. The one with your house key on it."
"Shit. SHIT!"
Whereupon my brother opens his eyes and sits up, having sensed being in the presence of an unstable mind. "Huh? What?"
"Um, did you just get up and go to the bathroom, cause ... I just thought I heard someone get up? Was that you?"
"No."
"Oh. Okay. Just checkin. See you in the morning."
Having secured my unwitting back-up, I headed downstairs to find all windows and doors secured. All keys in place. No one hiding in the utility room. I turned on all the porch lights and headed back to my room, locked the door, and went back to sleep.
I wonder if tonight, he'll feel compelled to knock on my door in the middle of the night to tell me he's got to go tee-tee.
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Ace-isms II
Star of the latest Disney movie - "Yightning daQueen"
What to shout when jumping from the footstool to the couch - "To Infinidee and DEYOND!"
Favorite phrase - "I DO it mySELF."
Favorite drink - "Chalk-it meelk"
"What do you want for breakfast?" - "Ina cake."
Diaper changing drill - "Hiney-uuup ... hiney down."
Who can resist such cuteness?
What to shout when jumping from the footstool to the couch - "To Infinidee and DEYOND!"
Favorite phrase - "I DO it mySELF."
Favorite drink - "Chalk-it meelk"
"What do you want for breakfast?" - "Ina cake."
Diaper changing drill - "Hiney-uuup ... hiney down."
Who can resist such cuteness?
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
Drowning in a Sea of Diva
When my niece came to stay with us, to say I was unprepared, would be an understatement.
Growing up I was never a girly-girl. I had stuffed animals, I wore jeans, I had a horse, I read books and I talked to imaginary friends. I was too shy to talk to real ones. I'm trying to remember what I was like in fourth grade and I can say without a doubt, I never wore a dress. I didn't have my ears pierced until I was in sixth grade.
So when Zoey came to town, I had no frame of reference. I thought I was all over this girly stuff, having bought Peach a closet full of pink clothes and ponytail fluffs to match. I had no idea. We went out to eat the other night and Zoey and Peach came be-bopping out of her room, with Peach wearing an outfit featuring gauchos, a matching top, coordinating Hello Kitty purse, sandals....and sparkle lip gloss. That's right, I said sparkle lip gloss. That's me at the end of the hall, frozen, with my brain trying to connect to the server, and my mouth hanging open. I usually can find just the right thing to say, but I'm not fast on the fly. I've got to think about it. So instead, I closed my gaping mouth and said nothing. When Zoey asked me if I had any earrings she could borrow, I stood with that same, stuck- on- pause face she had just seen in the hall. I mumbled something about not really having much in the way of earrings and we shuffled through my jewelry box.
Okay first of all, I'm forty years old and I only have two pair of dangly earrings to my name. Costume? Yes, but for 9 year olds? No. I've managed not to loose approximately 3 pairs of real gold earrings over the past twenty years, as my mother quit buying me jewelry to loose, when I was about sixteen. To share with a 9 year old? No. We settled on a smallish pair of faux diamond studs. Too much bling for a 9 year old, in my opinion.
Yesterday, the fourth day of school, she came whirling into the house to ask if she could call her friend Trish. Frozen pause face. Later I asked my brother, "Do you guys have a phone policy?" They currently have no policy. Me with a blank stare.
This morning, she came downstairs and asked me if she had P.E. or music today. I said, I don't know. She said, could you look it up online? I tried, but there was no info on fourth grade schedules. She asked, "Could you call the office?" And I said, they don't answer the phones this early. "Why?" " Well, I wanted to wear my sandals today, but I can't if we have p.e." I said, what if you put your tennis shoes and socks in your backpack and then you can change if you have p.e.? That worked, and she came back out sporting her sandals to ask me if they were too tall.
Frozen stare.
I have nothing to compare them to except my own closet. They were higher than any sandal I have, but to hold her to my standard would be unfair as my fanciest sandal is a flip-flop, a flat flip-flop, not a wedge.
"No, I think they're fine."
She twirled away and was back in under a minute with my green dangly earrings and said "Can I borrow these."
Pause face.
"Nope, not till I talk to your Momma."
I've been given a lot to chew on over the last couple of weeks, and thankfully several years to implement my own policies. I'm considering a phone downstairs complete with cord, so I can eavesdrop on all conversations. I'm thinking about going for an all natural look for myself so that I don't have any makeup to share. And I was just telling Peach this morning how much it hurt when I had my ears pierced. "Yes, I think it may have bled a little."
I'm sure my brother has a tale to tell about his uptight sister and her smack-talking kids. And I did see him with the Open-mouthed, gaping horror look on his face the other night, when the kids were sharing Dirty Brownie Fudgey Overload at the restaurant, and Peach was shoveling big piggy forkfuls into her mouth as fast as she could to insure that she got more than her fair share.
Don't get between a Diva and her Chocolate.
Growing up I was never a girly-girl. I had stuffed animals, I wore jeans, I had a horse, I read books and I talked to imaginary friends. I was too shy to talk to real ones. I'm trying to remember what I was like in fourth grade and I can say without a doubt, I never wore a dress. I didn't have my ears pierced until I was in sixth grade.
So when Zoey came to town, I had no frame of reference. I thought I was all over this girly stuff, having bought Peach a closet full of pink clothes and ponytail fluffs to match. I had no idea. We went out to eat the other night and Zoey and Peach came be-bopping out of her room, with Peach wearing an outfit featuring gauchos, a matching top, coordinating Hello Kitty purse, sandals....and sparkle lip gloss. That's right, I said sparkle lip gloss. That's me at the end of the hall, frozen, with my brain trying to connect to the server, and my mouth hanging open. I usually can find just the right thing to say, but I'm not fast on the fly. I've got to think about it. So instead, I closed my gaping mouth and said nothing. When Zoey asked me if I had any earrings she could borrow, I stood with that same, stuck- on- pause face she had just seen in the hall. I mumbled something about not really having much in the way of earrings and we shuffled through my jewelry box.
Okay first of all, I'm forty years old and I only have two pair of dangly earrings to my name. Costume? Yes, but for 9 year olds? No. I've managed not to loose approximately 3 pairs of real gold earrings over the past twenty years, as my mother quit buying me jewelry to loose, when I was about sixteen. To share with a 9 year old? No. We settled on a smallish pair of faux diamond studs. Too much bling for a 9 year old, in my opinion.
Yesterday, the fourth day of school, she came whirling into the house to ask if she could call her friend Trish. Frozen pause face. Later I asked my brother, "Do you guys have a phone policy?" They currently have no policy. Me with a blank stare.
This morning, she came downstairs and asked me if she had P.E. or music today. I said, I don't know. She said, could you look it up online? I tried, but there was no info on fourth grade schedules. She asked, "Could you call the office?" And I said, they don't answer the phones this early. "Why?" " Well, I wanted to wear my sandals today, but I can't if we have p.e." I said, what if you put your tennis shoes and socks in your backpack and then you can change if you have p.e.? That worked, and she came back out sporting her sandals to ask me if they were too tall.
Frozen stare.
I have nothing to compare them to except my own closet. They were higher than any sandal I have, but to hold her to my standard would be unfair as my fanciest sandal is a flip-flop, a flat flip-flop, not a wedge.
"No, I think they're fine."
She twirled away and was back in under a minute with my green dangly earrings and said "Can I borrow these."
Pause face.
"Nope, not till I talk to your Momma."
I've been given a lot to chew on over the last couple of weeks, and thankfully several years to implement my own policies. I'm considering a phone downstairs complete with cord, so I can eavesdrop on all conversations. I'm thinking about going for an all natural look for myself so that I don't have any makeup to share. And I was just telling Peach this morning how much it hurt when I had my ears pierced. "Yes, I think it may have bled a little."
I'm sure my brother has a tale to tell about his uptight sister and her smack-talking kids. And I did see him with the Open-mouthed, gaping horror look on his face the other night, when the kids were sharing Dirty Brownie Fudgey Overload at the restaurant, and Peach was shoveling big piggy forkfuls into her mouth as fast as she could to insure that she got more than her fair share.
Don't get between a Diva and her Chocolate.
Monday, August 21, 2006
I Could Use a Little Help Here
So this weekend I signed up for a fantasy football league. And you might be asking, "But Momma, why would you sign up for a fantasy football league?"
Well, at this time of year I'm always a "football widow". Not that I begrudge anyone their obsession of choice, it's just that since Troy Aikmen retired, I could give a hoot. So when my niece emailed and asked for everyone to sign up again this year, I thought why not? Besides right now I'm already a "work widow", so I better get my time in when I can.
So I went and signed up my team and named them The Cry Babies. I thought it would be funny if one of my brothers-in-law, or nephews had to say "Yeah, I got beat by The Cry Babies this weekend." And on the other hand if they say "I beat The Cry Babies this weekend.", well, who's gonna care?
The next hurdle however is the draft. As I was walking Charlie to his car last night, for his return trip to Austin, I asked "So, do I need to rank players?" He said "Yes! You've got to go and rank the players you want first so when it's your turn you get one of the ones you want. And I said "So I want a Quarterback first, right?" *
*All in-laws who are currently in The Bragging Rights League, please avert your eyes as strategy will now be discussed.
And he said "NO! Running back! It's ALL about the running back!"
"So like, Emmitt Smith was a running back, right? And Robert Newhouse, is that what he was?"
"Yes dear, and Tony Dorsett too. But those guys won't be on the draft."
"I know, I just was wondering, and what about Golden Richards, was he a running back?"
In his most patient voice, he said, "No. He was a wide receiver." (Or he may have said tight-end, I can't remember now.)
So we said our good byes and I might have gotten a little teary. After I got the kids in bed, I sat down in front of the computer, pulled up my players ranking list and called him on the road. Where he proceeded to give me tips and pointers for my draft list.
Now, when the draft is over and I get all the really good players and I start beating you guys, you might be tempted to say that I got help with my draft picks cause I cried and my husband felt sorry for me. Perhaps. Or maybe you're all just a bunch of sore loosers because you got beat by a Stay At Home Mom who doesn't know a running back from a wide-receiver.
Okay, that's my smack-talk for today, but seriously, can anybody help me out? Is Carolina's defense as good as Charlie says they are, or is he taking the good defense for himself?
Well, at this time of year I'm always a "football widow". Not that I begrudge anyone their obsession of choice, it's just that since Troy Aikmen retired, I could give a hoot. So when my niece emailed and asked for everyone to sign up again this year, I thought why not? Besides right now I'm already a "work widow", so I better get my time in when I can.
So I went and signed up my team and named them The Cry Babies. I thought it would be funny if one of my brothers-in-law, or nephews had to say "Yeah, I got beat by The Cry Babies this weekend." And on the other hand if they say "I beat The Cry Babies this weekend.", well, who's gonna care?
The next hurdle however is the draft. As I was walking Charlie to his car last night, for his return trip to Austin, I asked "So, do I need to rank players?" He said "Yes! You've got to go and rank the players you want first so when it's your turn you get one of the ones you want. And I said "So I want a Quarterback first, right?" *
*All in-laws who are currently in The Bragging Rights League, please avert your eyes as strategy will now be discussed.
And he said "NO! Running back! It's ALL about the running back!"
"So like, Emmitt Smith was a running back, right? And Robert Newhouse, is that what he was?"
"Yes dear, and Tony Dorsett too. But those guys won't be on the draft."
"I know, I just was wondering, and what about Golden Richards, was he a running back?"
In his most patient voice, he said, "No. He was a wide receiver." (Or he may have said tight-end, I can't remember now.)
So we said our good byes and I might have gotten a little teary. After I got the kids in bed, I sat down in front of the computer, pulled up my players ranking list and called him on the road. Where he proceeded to give me tips and pointers for my draft list.
Now, when the draft is over and I get all the really good players and I start beating you guys, you might be tempted to say that I got help with my draft picks cause I cried and my husband felt sorry for me. Perhaps. Or maybe you're all just a bunch of sore loosers because you got beat by a Stay At Home Mom who doesn't know a running back from a wide-receiver.
Okay, that's my smack-talk for today, but seriously, can anybody help me out? Is Carolina's defense as good as Charlie says they are, or is he taking the good defense for himself?
Saturday, August 19, 2006
Melee' the Bad Ass
First conversation, overheard while driving....
Melee' : "John, if any of those kids at school try to mess with you, you should just kick their butt."
Dad: "Excuse me? There'll be no butt kicking or you might find yourself getting one when you get home."
John: "Oh Dad. I'm not popular enough to get messed with. I'm like the next to the last unpopular. I'm not on the lowest level, those kids get made fun of. But I'm not popular enough to get noticed."
Melee': "They better not mess with you."
Second conversation, overheard after the first day of school....
Melee': "Zoey, if anybody tries to mess with you, they're gonna have to come through me."
Zoey: "My Mom always taught me a rule that says 'Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.'."
Melee': "Still. You let me know if anybody says something mean to you."
Third conversation, overheard after third day of school....
Zoey: "Melee', do you know that boy in my class named Albert? The one that wears the gold chains?"
Melee': "Albert? Yeah, I know him. He's a good guy."
Zoey: "Some of the girls in my class say he's mean."
Melee': "Well, if he's mean to you, you just come tell me. I'll talk to Albert."
Who says chivalry is dead? You want a piece a me?
Melee' : "John, if any of those kids at school try to mess with you, you should just kick their butt."
Dad: "Excuse me? There'll be no butt kicking or you might find yourself getting one when you get home."
John: "Oh Dad. I'm not popular enough to get messed with. I'm like the next to the last unpopular. I'm not on the lowest level, those kids get made fun of. But I'm not popular enough to get noticed."
Melee': "They better not mess with you."
Second conversation, overheard after the first day of school....
Melee': "Zoey, if anybody tries to mess with you, they're gonna have to come through me."
Zoey: "My Mom always taught me a rule that says 'Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.'."
Melee': "Still. You let me know if anybody says something mean to you."
Third conversation, overheard after third day of school....
Zoey: "Melee', do you know that boy in my class named Albert? The one that wears the gold chains?"
Melee': "Albert? Yeah, I know him. He's a good guy."
Zoey: "Some of the girls in my class say he's mean."
Melee': "Well, if he's mean to you, you just come tell me. I'll talk to Albert."
Who says chivalry is dead? You want a piece a me?
Friday, August 18, 2006
Week in Review
Third day in and we're fading fast.
Oh, the first day? We were psyched! The kids all decked out in their new finery, hair straightened, smoothed, gelled. Cute little outfits with matching accessories and new shiny backpacks. The Mom's all walking to school in our nicest t-shirts, maybe with a sequin or two, matching sandals, earrings, makeup and fixed hair. I even saw a couple of mom's in heels. (Damn showoffs.) Dad's dressed in their work duds, going in late to see their kids off. Melee' zoomed up on his bike after school, yelling "FOURTH GRADE ROCKS!"
Today I had to tell Melee' if he didn't want to fix his hair or let me fix it for him, we were headed to the barber for a buzz cut today. I'm unclear as to whether his shirt was appropriate for the color shorts he had on, he is a boy after all, and anything goes can be considered a "style". He and Zoey were on their bikes and out the driveway before I even got to tell them "bye". That was after he yelled at me not to put his lunch bag in his backpack as I would squish his papers. (He had a suck-up note and cartoon for his teacher in there). When asked why he didn't have his red homework folder today he said "Oh, we don't use those anymore." Anymore. Since yesterday.
John is on a an all-out CAT-tracker streak. Day three and he's written something in his CAT-tracker everyday. It's an all time record. He got home and said it had been "THE BEST FIRST DAY EVER!" in his entire school career. He then regaled me with tales of their state of the art bus. Yep, seventh grade ROCKS, because they have air-conditioning and speakers on the bus. The amount of paperwork that boy has brought home for me to sign is unbelievable! We had three PAGES of instructions and such, just from the math teacher, which he wrote all in the third person.
Today I peeked out at the "big kids" waiting for the bus. All in their most comfortable t-shirts and shorts, hair in pony-tails or short, slightly brushed past "bed-head" hair, sitting on the curb with their head in their hands, yawning.
Oh, the first day? We were psyched! The kids all decked out in their new finery, hair straightened, smoothed, gelled. Cute little outfits with matching accessories and new shiny backpacks. The Mom's all walking to school in our nicest t-shirts, maybe with a sequin or two, matching sandals, earrings, makeup and fixed hair. I even saw a couple of mom's in heels. (Damn showoffs.) Dad's dressed in their work duds, going in late to see their kids off. Melee' zoomed up on his bike after school, yelling "FOURTH GRADE ROCKS!"
Today I had to tell Melee' if he didn't want to fix his hair or let me fix it for him, we were headed to the barber for a buzz cut today. I'm unclear as to whether his shirt was appropriate for the color shorts he had on, he is a boy after all, and anything goes can be considered a "style". He and Zoey were on their bikes and out the driveway before I even got to tell them "bye". That was after he yelled at me not to put his lunch bag in his backpack as I would squish his papers. (He had a suck-up note and cartoon for his teacher in there). When asked why he didn't have his red homework folder today he said "Oh, we don't use those anymore." Anymore. Since yesterday.
John is on a an all-out CAT-tracker streak. Day three and he's written something in his CAT-tracker everyday. It's an all time record. He got home and said it had been "THE BEST FIRST DAY EVER!" in his entire school career. He then regaled me with tales of their state of the art bus. Yep, seventh grade ROCKS, because they have air-conditioning and speakers on the bus. The amount of paperwork that boy has brought home for me to sign is unbelievable! We had three PAGES of instructions and such, just from the math teacher, which he wrote all in the third person.
As Mr. Smith checks attendance, write down the day's assignment in your CAT and work on your warmup.
As Mr. Smith reads them, write down the correct homework answers ...After he gives you the answers, Mr. Smith will give you an opportunity to ask questions (raise your hand).
Momma will consequently pull out all her hair and throw herself to the ground, moaning and groaning for the next ten minutes. After she's done, Momma will give you the opportunity to roll your eyes and pretend like you're not related to her.
Today I peeked out at the "big kids" waiting for the bus. All in their most comfortable t-shirts and shorts, hair in pony-tails or short, slightly brushed past "bed-head" hair, sitting on the curb with their head in their hands, yawning.
Oh what a difference two days makes.
Addendum : I just walked in to the living room and found John's Math Homework worksheet sitting forgotten on the wetbar. The hard homework that he didn't know how to do. The seventh grade homework that I don't totally understand myself. (Have I mentioned I hate math?) The homework that, after I explained to him how to do it, I then had to do myself in order to check his work, which turns out, was all wrong save one. The homework we probably in total worked on for over an hour. Sitting. Forgotten. I. Am. About. To. Start. Crying.
And now the school year has officially begun.
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Taking my house back, one room at a time.
Well today was the day. The kids are safely tucked into their desks, with lunch boxes filled with with ham sandwiches and funyuns. My brother Krull and his daughter Zoey are staying with us till they finalize the sale of their house and Zoey's mom gets her new job here. She and Melee' are both in fourth grade but we found out last night they didn't get the same teacher. She was bummed, but she's got one of the very sweetest teachers, so I know she'll be okay. The first day of school is always great at our school, most of the parents walk their kids to school and they let us walk the kids to class. Zoey and Melee' rode their bikes and get to ride home in the afternoon. John went with us to drop them off and then we came back to wait for the bus. We have a big group of all our neighbors and their kids that meet out front and wait together. The sixth and seventh graders of course, are way too cool to have their parents out waiting with them, but we insist and we try not to embarrass them too bad.
AAhhh, I can breathe. I have the house to myself. Well, if you don't count the two toddlers. Zachary's 3rd birthday is today and he's anxiously waiting for cake and presents. He picked out an obnoxiously loud pickup truck with buttons that make zooming noises and sings songs. He knows exactly which one it is, and I probably could have saved some money and not bought the other two presents, as I doubt he looks at them twice.
I've already got the playroom organized and put back together the way I like it. Vaccumed and sorted laundry, made the boys beds and am cooking some italian sausage to put in the crockpot for spagetti sauce tonight. Life is good.
I've made the executive decision that Ace will not be starting MDO this year and I'm going to hold him back and start him with the three's next year. I think I'll feel much better with him starting Kindergarten as an old five than a newly five. Bonnie doesn't get started till the first of September, so I've got a little QT with the babies, before we're 100% back in the routine.
I know, a terribly boring and routine post. Because my life is a joyfully boring routine.
AAhhh, I can breathe. I have the house to myself. Well, if you don't count the two toddlers. Zachary's 3rd birthday is today and he's anxiously waiting for cake and presents. He picked out an obnoxiously loud pickup truck with buttons that make zooming noises and sings songs. He knows exactly which one it is, and I probably could have saved some money and not bought the other two presents, as I doubt he looks at them twice.
I've already got the playroom organized and put back together the way I like it. Vaccumed and sorted laundry, made the boys beds and am cooking some italian sausage to put in the crockpot for spagetti sauce tonight. Life is good.
I've made the executive decision that Ace will not be starting MDO this year and I'm going to hold him back and start him with the three's next year. I think I'll feel much better with him starting Kindergarten as an old five than a newly five. Bonnie doesn't get started till the first of September, so I've got a little QT with the babies, before we're 100% back in the routine.
I know, a terribly boring and routine post. Because my life is a joyfully boring routine.
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Monday, August 14, 2006
Some Reflections on the Day, Thus Far
Maybe Funyuns wasn't the best thing to buy fifty of, at Sam's yesterday.
I keep finding myself saying things to John like "Every time I open my mouth, you do nothing but argue and criticize and you have no idea how infuriating that is." Or does he?
I'm not very nervous about the kids starting school Wednesday, I wonder if that spells trouble?
I went to Flylady today after I read Chris's post , and I'm considering signing up. I consequently have a very shiny sink.
I should be out mowing my lawn but instead, I'm procrastinating and dreading going to Boy Scouts tonight. How could I have gone to Sam's, yet have nothing I can make for fingerfood.
After fizzling out at the end of last springs Bible study, of the two choices I have for the fall session, I've decided to take Beth Moore's study of Daniel. Because I love her, and I'm optimistic that I'll get the homework done this time.
I need to have Ace's picture taken at an actual studio, as he will be three on Wednesday and not a professional head-shot to his name.
I've rounded the corner at least twice today and had Melee' respond "WHAT?" "Ah, nothing, I'm just going to the laundry room." "Oh, I thought you were mad." Am I?
I found this really wierd link and after bossing the chicken around a bit, I feel somewhat disturbed. I think I may have nightmares.
I keep finding myself saying things to John like "Every time I open my mouth, you do nothing but argue and criticize and you have no idea how infuriating that is." Or does he?
I'm not very nervous about the kids starting school Wednesday, I wonder if that spells trouble?
I went to Flylady today after I read Chris's post , and I'm considering signing up. I consequently have a very shiny sink.
I should be out mowing my lawn but instead, I'm procrastinating and dreading going to Boy Scouts tonight. How could I have gone to Sam's, yet have nothing I can make for fingerfood.
After fizzling out at the end of last springs Bible study, of the two choices I have for the fall session, I've decided to take Beth Moore's study of Daniel. Because I love her, and I'm optimistic that I'll get the homework done this time.
I need to have Ace's picture taken at an actual studio, as he will be three on Wednesday and not a professional head-shot to his name.
I've rounded the corner at least twice today and had Melee' respond "WHAT?" "Ah, nothing, I'm just going to the laundry room." "Oh, I thought you were mad." Am I?
I found this really wierd link and after bossing the chicken around a bit, I feel somewhat disturbed. I think I may have nightmares.
Saturday, August 12, 2006
Terms of Service
Charlie's home again. This was week number four of his - "three weeks on the road, one week off" schedule. He's just home for the weekend and gone again Sunday night. He's on track to continue this schedule through Thanksgiving.
I'm being a trooper. That's my official position. I haven't complained at all, as far as I know. We've been very busy the last week and it went by very quickly, or so I thought. This morning however, when Charlie came downstairs, Ace took him by the hand and walked him around the house reintroducing him. "Dis my butta Jim-my. Dis my butta Tie-da. Dis my horsie. We hab lot's and lot's of Ice Keem in da little feeza." (So I'm drowning my sorrows in Blue Bell, get off me.)
I just got wind last night that the powers that be, may be considering extending his stay past the three week mark.
To Whom It May Concern,
It has come to my attention that the aforementioned schedule for updating systems in the branches may be extended in some areas. I think this is a fantastic idea, as I feel nobody is as qualified to meet these challenges as Charlie. However, there will be extenuating circumstances and terms that must be met. Namely, hush money. I require an amount that includes, but is not limited to:
The cost of taking four children to 2 movies per week including cost of popcorn, drinks and candy.
Tickets to one Astros game for seven. (My niece is staying with us)
Un upgrade in pay equal to half the cost of an eight passenger (white) Toyota Sienna.
Local delivery of a case of BlueBell Ice Cream in assorted flavors, all including some chocolate, per pay period.
Membership that includes daycare to LA Fitness Sportsclub or the Y, your choice.
Roundtrip airfare for 5 to California for one of the weeks Charlie is there.
Lawn service contract for such period of time as the schedule exists, including tree trimming services that will allow clear view from my Dish to the Satellite.
Various gift cards to local restaurants.
An email from you, one per week, commending me on my patience and fortitude and making sure there's nothing else you can do for me.
Loan of your fiercest negotiator on staff, to go with me to any and all parent/teacher conferences.
A pony.
I feel these demands, while extensive and outrageous are equal in nature to the length of time and intensity that we're missing our Charlie. While no doubt, he is a valuable commodity to the company, his continued absence here at home could send me over the edge.
Making you an offer, I hope you can't refuse,
Charlie's Wife
I'm being a trooper. That's my official position. I haven't complained at all, as far as I know. We've been very busy the last week and it went by very quickly, or so I thought. This morning however, when Charlie came downstairs, Ace took him by the hand and walked him around the house reintroducing him. "Dis my butta Jim-my. Dis my butta Tie-da. Dis my horsie. We hab lot's and lot's of Ice Keem in da little feeza." (So I'm drowning my sorrows in Blue Bell, get off me.)
I just got wind last night that the powers that be, may be considering extending his stay past the three week mark.
To Whom It May Concern,
It has come to my attention that the aforementioned schedule for updating systems in the branches may be extended in some areas. I think this is a fantastic idea, as I feel nobody is as qualified to meet these challenges as Charlie. However, there will be extenuating circumstances and terms that must be met. Namely, hush money. I require an amount that includes, but is not limited to:
The cost of taking four children to 2 movies per week including cost of popcorn, drinks and candy.
Tickets to one Astros game for seven. (My niece is staying with us)
Un upgrade in pay equal to half the cost of an eight passenger (white) Toyota Sienna.
Local delivery of a case of BlueBell Ice Cream in assorted flavors, all including some chocolate, per pay period.
Membership that includes daycare to LA Fitness Sportsclub or the Y, your choice.
Roundtrip airfare for 5 to California for one of the weeks Charlie is there.
Lawn service contract for such period of time as the schedule exists, including tree trimming services that will allow clear view from my Dish to the Satellite.
Various gift cards to local restaurants.
An email from you, one per week, commending me on my patience and fortitude and making sure there's nothing else you can do for me.
Loan of your fiercest negotiator on staff, to go with me to any and all parent/teacher conferences.
A pony.
I feel these demands, while extensive and outrageous are equal in nature to the length of time and intensity that we're missing our Charlie. While no doubt, he is a valuable commodity to the company, his continued absence here at home could send me over the edge.
Making you an offer, I hope you can't refuse,
Charlie's Wife
Thursday, August 10, 2006
Charming Charlie
I feel like I've been picking on Charlie a bit on the daily blog, so in the spirit of equal time.
One of the things I love about Charlie is his sense of humor. He makes me laugh a lot and I find that terribly attractive. Although we did not date in High School, we were very good friends, (when I wasn't mad at him) and we had a lot of laughs. I was a very straight and narrow goody two-shoes girl and although he was never in a lot of trouble and stayed on the honor roll, he was definitely a class clown. One of my favorite memories from high school was being in Father Blum's class and sitting beside Charlie when we both got the giggles for no reason at all. You know, the kind of giggles you get when you're in Church and you know if you don't stop, you're gonna be in Big Time Trouble. Same thing. We laughed and laughed and Father got really mad at us and asked us to share what was so funny, and of course there wasn't anything funny, we just couldn't stop laughing. We both got thrown out of the class for the rest of the period. (Father married us six years later.)
Another favorite was going to Lamaze class when I was pregnant with John. I have always been REALLY shy and going to things where you have to introduce yourself and say things in front of a group makes me incredibly uncomfortable. Being first time parents, we weren't sure what to expect and the classes were very informative. Charlie, however was not prepared to have to look at plastic models of vaginas and movies about labor. During each class, he would make all these groaning noises and "Oh, gross." "Oh my god." "Ugh, did her water just break? I think I'm gonna throw-up." I kept elbowing him all through class and whispering "Shut-up!" between clenched teeth. Because the class was two hours, we had several breaks and he would go outside to smoke (sorry to front you out like that dear) . And at breaktime one evening after a particularly graphic film, there was a group of pregnant mother's who were whispering and kept glancing over at me. Finally they all walked over to me as a group and one of the girls who had been elected the "spokesperson" said, "Do you have a backup for a coach?" "Huh?" "Well, we were just wondering if you had a sister or somebody who might stand in, in case he doesn't make it." I can't remember what I said to appease their fears, but on the ride home I told Charlie that if he embarrassed me again at the next class I wasn't bringing him anymore. I was mortified. I guess the instructor was getting a little nervous about my situation as well, because at the next class, she started off by handing out sheets of paper and pencils and explaining that she wanted us to write down the three things we were most worried about concerning our delivery, that way, she could answer our questions without anyone having to know who asked the question. So there I sit with this piece of paper and I'm pondering all the things I was worried about and trying to narrow them down to the top three ... hmmmm
Well # 1 on the list is What if they don't give me my epidural when I want it?
She had made a speech early on in the class talking about how they don't just willy-nilly go giving out epidurals because you think your a little uncomfortable. You've really got to be in some serious pain before they bring out the anesthesia. Or something to that effect. So being the weenie that I am, that was my number one worry!
#2 Let's see ... okay What if they give me the epidural and it doesn't work?
So I'm a little obsessed when it comes to pain management. Hey, I was scared.
#3 Ummm, well .... epidural?covered it ... emm .. how bout ... shots?I really don't want one of those ... I.V.?man that's gonna hurt, but I don't think there's anything she can do about that .... I wonder if they can numb your arm first?no, that's dumb .... man, I can't think of anything ... OH YEA, I'm worried something will be wrong with the baby. Although, that's really not a question.
So I look over at Charlie and whisper "What have you got?" and he turns his paper so that I can see it and it's got one thing written on it.
"I'm worried I'm gonna get something on my shoe."
I have never laughed so hard in my life. I don't know how I got to the bathroom without peeing in my pants, and I'm a little surprised I didn't have that baby right then and there. I had tears running down my face and everybody was asking "What?" "What is it?"
I don't remember if we turned in our papers, but I was so relieved when I went on bedrest the next week and didn't have to go back to class. I'm sure those folks thought we were insane, here we are supposed to be writing down all our worst fears and I'm rolling around on the floor laughing like a crazy person.
Good Times.
P.S. He made it through the delivery and I only had to yell at him once, "DON'T SAY THE NUMBERS OUTLOUD!!! JUST TELL ME WHEN THEY'RE COMING DOWN!" And he's an excellent heavy breather and breathing with him was the only thing that worked for me. Four kids later and he's still standing, and if he got anything on his shoe, he was gentlemanly enough not to tell me.
One of the things I love about Charlie is his sense of humor. He makes me laugh a lot and I find that terribly attractive. Although we did not date in High School, we were very good friends, (when I wasn't mad at him) and we had a lot of laughs. I was a very straight and narrow goody two-shoes girl and although he was never in a lot of trouble and stayed on the honor roll, he was definitely a class clown. One of my favorite memories from high school was being in Father Blum's class and sitting beside Charlie when we both got the giggles for no reason at all. You know, the kind of giggles you get when you're in Church and you know if you don't stop, you're gonna be in Big Time Trouble. Same thing. We laughed and laughed and Father got really mad at us and asked us to share what was so funny, and of course there wasn't anything funny, we just couldn't stop laughing. We both got thrown out of the class for the rest of the period. (Father married us six years later.)
Another favorite was going to Lamaze class when I was pregnant with John. I have always been REALLY shy and going to things where you have to introduce yourself and say things in front of a group makes me incredibly uncomfortable. Being first time parents, we weren't sure what to expect and the classes were very informative. Charlie, however was not prepared to have to look at plastic models of vaginas and movies about labor. During each class, he would make all these groaning noises and "Oh, gross." "Oh my god." "Ugh, did her water just break? I think I'm gonna throw-up." I kept elbowing him all through class and whispering "Shut-up!" between clenched teeth. Because the class was two hours, we had several breaks and he would go outside to smoke (sorry to front you out like that dear) . And at breaktime one evening after a particularly graphic film, there was a group of pregnant mother's who were whispering and kept glancing over at me. Finally they all walked over to me as a group and one of the girls who had been elected the "spokesperson" said, "Do you have a backup for a coach?" "Huh?" "Well, we were just wondering if you had a sister or somebody who might stand in, in case he doesn't make it." I can't remember what I said to appease their fears, but on the ride home I told Charlie that if he embarrassed me again at the next class I wasn't bringing him anymore. I was mortified. I guess the instructor was getting a little nervous about my situation as well, because at the next class, she started off by handing out sheets of paper and pencils and explaining that she wanted us to write down the three things we were most worried about concerning our delivery, that way, she could answer our questions without anyone having to know who asked the question. So there I sit with this piece of paper and I'm pondering all the things I was worried about and trying to narrow them down to the top three ... hmmmm
Well # 1 on the list is What if they don't give me my epidural when I want it?
She had made a speech early on in the class talking about how they don't just willy-nilly go giving out epidurals because you think your a little uncomfortable. You've really got to be in some serious pain before they bring out the anesthesia. Or something to that effect. So being the weenie that I am, that was my number one worry!
#2 Let's see ... okay What if they give me the epidural and it doesn't work?
So I'm a little obsessed when it comes to pain management. Hey, I was scared.
#3 Ummm, well .... epidural?covered it ... emm .. how bout ... shots?I really don't want one of those ... I.V.?man that's gonna hurt, but I don't think there's anything she can do about that .... I wonder if they can numb your arm first?no, that's dumb .... man, I can't think of anything ... OH YEA, I'm worried something will be wrong with the baby. Although, that's really not a question.
So I look over at Charlie and whisper "What have you got?" and he turns his paper so that I can see it and it's got one thing written on it.
"I'm worried I'm gonna get something on my shoe."
I have never laughed so hard in my life. I don't know how I got to the bathroom without peeing in my pants, and I'm a little surprised I didn't have that baby right then and there. I had tears running down my face and everybody was asking "What?" "What is it?"
I don't remember if we turned in our papers, but I was so relieved when I went on bedrest the next week and didn't have to go back to class. I'm sure those folks thought we were insane, here we are supposed to be writing down all our worst fears and I'm rolling around on the floor laughing like a crazy person.
Good Times.
P.S. He made it through the delivery and I only had to yell at him once, "DON'T SAY THE NUMBERS OUTLOUD!!! JUST TELL ME WHEN THEY'RE COMING DOWN!" And he's an excellent heavy breather and breathing with him was the only thing that worked for me. Four kids later and he's still standing, and if he got anything on his shoe, he was gentlemanly enough not to tell me.
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
Just call me Cathy
I decided one day that I would illustrate my own banner for my blog, but we all sort of look like Cathy. And Charlie's head is too round, he's more of an oval.
Saturday, August 05, 2006
Is Saying "I Told You So" Grounds for Divorce?
I predict that our drive home tomorrow will be a twelve hour affair, rather than the ten hour jaunt it was on the way up. Am I psychic you ask? Am I paranormal? Was I struck by lightning during the storm we had, while watching the outdoor musical drama TEXAS?
Nope.
Charlie got a ticket yesterday while we were on the way to take the kids to see Cars. Doing 58 in a 45. Because you don't just have to be in a hurry when making a roadtrip, you can be in a hurry Anytime! The kids were quiet in the backseat for the most part. Melee' kept whispering "Are you gonna get a ticket Dad?" Yes he's getting a ticket, because if he didn't, the Earth would slide off it's axis and they would be having snowball fights in .. the Sahara.
I tried to keep a neutral expression, really I did. I tried not to gloat, or say things like "I knew this was going to happen.", or "When are you gonna learn your lesson?", or "I told you so.". I've got a pretty good poker face, but I have to admit, I may have grinned just a little. And he'll tell you he didn't and try to act all puffed up about me saying anything, but he had to stifle a giggle.
Of course neither of us are going to be giggling when we've got to pony-up whatever the current ridiculous amount of money it takes to keep a ticket off your permanent driving record. But does cost really matter when you get to put one down in the Win column of the "I Was Right and You Were Wrong" book of Things We Kept Record of During Our Marriage?
Nope.
Charlie got a ticket yesterday while we were on the way to take the kids to see Cars. Doing 58 in a 45. Because you don't just have to be in a hurry when making a roadtrip, you can be in a hurry Anytime! The kids were quiet in the backseat for the most part. Melee' kept whispering "Are you gonna get a ticket Dad?" Yes he's getting a ticket, because if he didn't, the Earth would slide off it's axis and they would be having snowball fights in .. the Sahara.
I tried to keep a neutral expression, really I did. I tried not to gloat, or say things like "I knew this was going to happen.", or "When are you gonna learn your lesson?", or "I told you so.". I've got a pretty good poker face, but I have to admit, I may have grinned just a little. And he'll tell you he didn't and try to act all puffed up about me saying anything, but he had to stifle a giggle.
Of course neither of us are going to be giggling when we've got to pony-up whatever the current ridiculous amount of money it takes to keep a ticket off your permanent driving record. But does cost really matter when you get to put one down in the Win column of the "I Was Right and You Were Wrong" book of Things We Kept Record of During Our Marriage?
Friday, August 04, 2006
How Redneck are you?
| You Are 35% Redneck |
 The wheels still turning, but the hamster's dead. You're just fakin' bein' a redneck. |
See there. I'm not a redneck.
(They just didn't ask the right question)
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Vacation Update
1. Left at 7:15
2. 30 minutes into the trip, Ace threw-up. Couldn't pull off due to traffic right away, finally got to a gas station and purchased Sprite and Crackers.
3. Ace ate potato chips and Sprite, feeling much better.
4. Ace barfed 45 minutes later, causing a full stop on the side of the highway, where Charlie and I had to jump out of the truck, like a chinese fire drill, grab him and the carseat out and start cleanup on the side of I-45. (You did? Yep that was me, cleaning puke off the carseat with babywipes.)
5. Charlie and I stood in a fire ant bed while trying to find new clothes for Ace to put on. (You did? Yep, that was me hopping around in the middle of I-45, slapping fire ants off my feet and ankles with my pink Old Navy flip-flops.)
6. Settled in for the 10 hour drive. (You did? Yep that was me leaning on Ace's carseat with drool coming out the side of my mouth, I was snoring too.)
7. Forgot to bring stickers for kids to pull off the headliner of the car to countdown every hour so I wouldn't have to say every five minutes, "No Baby, we're not there yet. It's gonna be a long looong time." "Like hours." "No, first there's lunch, then there's naptime and then when it's almost dinner time, we'll be there. No. NO. NO! You don't HAVE to take a nap if you don't want to. Quit crying. Stop crying now."
8. Stopped at the Taco Bell playland for lunch. Because with carsick kids, it just makes sense. Doesn't it?
9. Stopped in Chilicothe, at the most fly infested Dairy Queen of ALL time! Because I didn't want to go to the bathroom at the nasty Allsup's gas station.
10. Found the NICEST Super Duper Rest stop, provided by the Texas Department of Public Safety, complete with a kids playground. Two miles on the other side of Chilicothe.
11. Had more conversations regarding sniffing.
Peach: "Mom, whath's that thmell?"
"Rain."
Peach :"No that other thmell. The thtinky one."
"That's the smell of wet cows."
Ten minutes later.
Ace: "I DON'T LIKE COWS."
"Why?"
Ace: "They stinky."
12. WE'RE HERE!
13. Woke up this morning to the realization that I FORGOT TO PACK MY CHI!
14. Charlie saves the day by packing it for me. He's a keeper.
2. 30 minutes into the trip, Ace threw-up. Couldn't pull off due to traffic right away, finally got to a gas station and purchased Sprite and Crackers.
3. Ace ate potato chips and Sprite, feeling much better.
4. Ace barfed 45 minutes later, causing a full stop on the side of the highway, where Charlie and I had to jump out of the truck, like a chinese fire drill, grab him and the carseat out and start cleanup on the side of I-45. (You did? Yep that was me, cleaning puke off the carseat with babywipes.)
5. Charlie and I stood in a fire ant bed while trying to find new clothes for Ace to put on. (You did? Yep, that was me hopping around in the middle of I-45, slapping fire ants off my feet and ankles with my pink Old Navy flip-flops.)
6. Settled in for the 10 hour drive. (You did? Yep that was me leaning on Ace's carseat with drool coming out the side of my mouth, I was snoring too.)
7. Forgot to bring stickers for kids to pull off the headliner of the car to countdown every hour so I wouldn't have to say every five minutes, "No Baby, we're not there yet. It's gonna be a long looong time." "Like hours." "No, first there's lunch, then there's naptime and then when it's almost dinner time, we'll be there. No. NO. NO! You don't HAVE to take a nap if you don't want to. Quit crying. Stop crying now."
8. Stopped at the Taco Bell playland for lunch. Because with carsick kids, it just makes sense. Doesn't it?
9. Stopped in Chilicothe, at the most fly infested Dairy Queen of ALL time! Because I didn't want to go to the bathroom at the nasty Allsup's gas station.
10. Found the NICEST Super Duper Rest stop, provided by the Texas Department of Public Safety, complete with a kids playground. Two miles on the other side of Chilicothe.
11. Had more conversations regarding sniffing.
Peach: "Mom, whath's that thmell?"
"Rain."
Peach :"No that other thmell. The thtinky one."
"That's the smell of wet cows."
Ten minutes later.
Ace: "I DON'T LIKE COWS."
"Why?"
Ace: "They stinky."
12. WE'RE HERE!
13. Woke up this morning to the realization that I FORGOT TO PACK MY CHI!
14. Charlie saves the day by packing it for me. He's a keeper.
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Estimated Time of Departure 5:00 A.M.
What are the odds? I've packed the bags, I've packed the medicine cabinet, I've packed the Toy Box and I've packed the diapers. I just don't have the brain-power to do this anymore. It should be easier, I don't have to pack high chairs or play-pens or bottles. It's the "what if's" that do me in. AND YES, CHARLIE, I know they have Walmarts in Amarillo. It would just be easier and less expensive if I could remember to bring what I need. But I've pretty much resigned myself to the fact that I can't do it, I'm gonna forget something.
Last year when we went, we forgot Peaches "friend" for bedtime. She doesn't have any one particular friend, she has a stable of "friends" that she chooses from to sleep with every night. How in the world we left the house without a stuffed animal stashed somewhere, I'll never know. But, the first night came and we were tucking her in and she said "I need my friend." and we just looked at each other. We scoured the car and the bags and the diaper bag and couldn't come up with a thing. And short of sending her to bed with one of the dog's rawhides, we just didn't have anything, so Charlie grabs his Dr. Pepper, pulls the Koozie off of it and says "Here, you can sleep with my friend Koozie Joe." And she bought it, hook line and sinker.
Then there's the issue of how fast can we get there. I know it's a man cliche' to see how fast you can do the trip, but Charlie goes above and beyond the cliche'. I took the kids to my Dad's for a visit in March and on our way home, I took a different route than I normally do, so I was scootin' down the highway and looked up and there's a policeman right behind me. I hissed at the kids "EVERYBODY PUT YOUR SEATBELTS ON RIGHT AND BE QUIET, MOMMA'S GETTING A TICKET!" So he walked up and asked for my license and said "Ms. D, were you aware that the speed limit here is 55?" "Uh, no sir." "Are you in a hurry?" "No sir, just tryin to get home." He looks at the license and says, "You live in Houston?" "Yes sir." "I see Friday's your birthday." "Yes sir." "I'll be back in just a minute." so he goes to his car to write me up and the kids are whispering and buzzing and I'm thinking "Oh Charlie's gonna have a HAY DAY with this! 70 in a 55, crap!" Then he gets back and says "Ms. D, I'm just gonna give you this warning, now the speed limit is 55 till you get to I-45, drive safe." I exhaled, drove off and Melee' said "Mom, how come everytime Dad gets stopped, he always gets a ticket and you never do?" I said "I don't know, but you need to be sure and ask Daddy that when we get home." At one point several years back, he had a period of time where he was taking Defensive driving for one ticket, paying a lawyer to have one dismissed and then did deferred adjudication for the third, all at one time.
It's eleven o'clock and he just came in to say that he's going to put gas in the truck (yes a real truck) and I said "Why don't you go ahead and put the carseats in while you're doing that." he let's out a big sigh and says "Are you bustin' my chops or what?" This from the man that did none of his own packing today and that I had to wrestle to the ground, to unhand him of the pair of holey jeans he was trying to sneak in to the bag. I draw the line with holes in the crotch area, I don't give a damn how soft they are. There's my line. I drew it. Don't cross it.
I mean it.
I better get to bed, I may not be the boss, but ya'll know who runs this show, don't ya?
Last year when we went, we forgot Peaches "friend" for bedtime. She doesn't have any one particular friend, she has a stable of "friends" that she chooses from to sleep with every night. How in the world we left the house without a stuffed animal stashed somewhere, I'll never know. But, the first night came and we were tucking her in and she said "I need my friend." and we just looked at each other. We scoured the car and the bags and the diaper bag and couldn't come up with a thing. And short of sending her to bed with one of the dog's rawhides, we just didn't have anything, so Charlie grabs his Dr. Pepper, pulls the Koozie off of it and says "Here, you can sleep with my friend Koozie Joe." And she bought it, hook line and sinker.
Then there's the issue of how fast can we get there. I know it's a man cliche' to see how fast you can do the trip, but Charlie goes above and beyond the cliche'. I took the kids to my Dad's for a visit in March and on our way home, I took a different route than I normally do, so I was scootin' down the highway and looked up and there's a policeman right behind me. I hissed at the kids "EVERYBODY PUT YOUR SEATBELTS ON RIGHT AND BE QUIET, MOMMA'S GETTING A TICKET!" So he walked up and asked for my license and said "Ms. D, were you aware that the speed limit here is 55?" "Uh, no sir." "Are you in a hurry?" "No sir, just tryin to get home." He looks at the license and says, "You live in Houston?" "Yes sir." "I see Friday's your birthday." "Yes sir." "I'll be back in just a minute." so he goes to his car to write me up and the kids are whispering and buzzing and I'm thinking "Oh Charlie's gonna have a HAY DAY with this! 70 in a 55, crap!" Then he gets back and says "Ms. D, I'm just gonna give you this warning, now the speed limit is 55 till you get to I-45, drive safe." I exhaled, drove off and Melee' said "Mom, how come everytime Dad gets stopped, he always gets a ticket and you never do?" I said "I don't know, but you need to be sure and ask Daddy that when we get home." At one point several years back, he had a period of time where he was taking Defensive driving for one ticket, paying a lawyer to have one dismissed and then did deferred adjudication for the third, all at one time.
It's eleven o'clock and he just came in to say that he's going to put gas in the truck (yes a real truck) and I said "Why don't you go ahead and put the carseats in while you're doing that." he let's out a big sigh and says "Are you bustin' my chops or what?" This from the man that did none of his own packing today and that I had to wrestle to the ground, to unhand him of the pair of holey jeans he was trying to sneak in to the bag. I draw the line with holes in the crotch area, I don't give a damn how soft they are. There's my line. I drew it. Don't cross it.
I mean it.
I better get to bed, I may not be the boss, but ya'll know who runs this show, don't ya?
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