It's that time of year again. It's Christmas time! All of the little kids are so excited! My own kids couldn't wait to decorate the house and put up the tree. Now that I'm older it's harder to get into the spirit since there is so much work involved. It's nice to have the kids bring up boxes from downstairs but it's still overwhelming thinking of where to put things and having to clean up later. The reward, though, is seeing the kids pull the decorations out of the boxes. I'll hear them saying, '..I remember this!' and 'We HAVE to put this one up this year'. It's such a magical time of year for children. I just wish I could have such energy.
When I was a child I remember nagging my mother to get the decorations down. I couldn't understand why she wasn't as excited as I was. We'd have to wait and wait until my mom or dad would get the ladder out in the garage and retrieve the old boxes filled with treasures. The second I saw one I was transported to the magical time of year that held such joy. Once inside, the boxes were lined up in the living room. I associate the smell of musty cardboard boxes to Christmas. The tree decorations were individually wrapped in tissue paper that had gotten darker and more aromatic each year. With each ornament I unwrapped I would get more excited. Back then I didn't think about money or work or any other problems that are present now. I was caught up in the moment. Looking back, I never even fathomed that Christmas would change in years to come.
My husband and I celebrated Christmas in our house by ourselves for several years after we were married. I would decorate, but it wasn't the kind of decorating I had done as a child. Our new living room furniture was cranberry and green fabric along with nice end tables. I went and bought a lot of ribbon in those colors to make bows. I attached bows to each of the branches and finished by draping a gold ribbon all around the tree. It was truly beautiful, but something was missing.
Where were all the mismatched decorations I remembered from childhood? Where was that papery smell that enveloped the house when the decorations were opened? Why did all the decorations stay in the same place the whole season without being disturbed in any manner?
Well, what goes around comes around. After several years we were blessed with our two children. We may be older parents, but it is such a joy seeing our children acting just like we did. The nagging is still the same. The wonder is still the same. The excitement is still the same.
I'll try to place the stuffed Santa in the rocking chair and put the nativity together only to later find the Santa on the floor and Mary and Joseph on the roof of the manger. My snow village will get rearranged several times throughout the season in strange ways.
This is the Christmas I now love. Seeing the season through my childrens' eyes is so satisfying. I guess Christmas IS for children, but I'll selfishly share their joy at the magic of the season.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Friday, November 30, 2007
Here I Go Again
I have obsessive/compulsive disorder. When I get something on my mind I can't rest until I come to a complete resolution. That's why I'm going to write about money again.
I live is a very nice neighborhood. Everyone has at least two cars. Their lawns are perfectly manicured. Their kids are dressed quite well. I'm definitely in the wrong place.
Our landscaping is pretty poor, to say the least. It's required in our community to have your house properly landscaped. We try to keep up with it, but the weeds are winning.
I don't care.
Our back deck shows signs that people actually live in my house. Until recently we had a broken metal table outside with an umbrella (the umbrella is safely in the garage). The glass on the table shattered when the rusted joints on the legs gave way. It's been there for a year.
I don't care.
A friend of my son's proclaimed several weeks ago that 'my mom doesn't buy me anything'. I looked him full in the face and said, "What did you just say?"
"Well, she's always buying shoes and clothes for herself."
This woman is a dear friend of mine. She always looks nice and they can afford to have nice things. The boy doesn't want for anything. Unfortunately this seems to be the norm these days.
Just the other day I had my kids in the car. We were talking about how to manage money (my idea) and they said that they can't understand why others in the neighborhood have pools or every video game ever invented. They weren't complaining. I guess they were just questioning why people make the choices they do.
I explained to them how we take so much for granted. We have warm homes and plenty of food. Our clothes are not tattered.
"Did you know", I explained, "that some people in other countries live in cardboard boxes? They have no running water and they go hungry most of the time. I saw a picture last week of a child who used a plastic bag for a blanket."
They were incredulous but it didn't take long for them to forget the plight of others.
I watched a television program a few years ago about a typical family from New Jersey. They had two children; a preteen girl and a 10 year old boy. All their lives they were given everything they wanted. It got to the point where they complained if they didn't have the latest thing like their friends. Their parents had enough.
They took their children on a trip to Africa. They didn't stay in a nice hotel in a large city; rather, they took a 10 hour truck ride to a small village. Of course the kids were totally disgusted. They started crying and demanded to go home when they saw the living conditions. The people had to provide their own food and clothing with the resources that were available. The work ethic in that village was strong since their survival depended upon it.
The parents must have spoken to someone in the village to let them know that they were there to be contributing members in the community. The children had to work every day at tasks that were less than pleasant. They had to help clean the animals that were killed for food. They had to get water from a faraway resource. The list went on and on. They were disgusted that they were forced to do such tasks.
But slowly things changed. The kids learned to fall asleep early in order to get up and start their work. They noticed that EVERYONE was working hard. They realized that what they were doing contributed to everyone's survival.
The most amazing thing to them was how the people enjoyed themselves after their work was done. The smaller children played with sticks they found. The adults sang and danced in the evenings. They included the family in all their celebrations.
When their time was over the children were inconsolable. They had learned how to work and play hard. They realized that they weren't entitled to anything; it had to be earned. They didn't want to leave these incredible friends they had made. In the last part of the show it showed the family getting back on the truck to begin the 10 hour journey back to the airport. Even in the airplane they couldn't stop crying. The people in Africa were genuine. They knew how to maintain a successful community.
I suppose some could look at these people so far away in the middle of a desert and feel sorry for them. They have no modern conveniences. I don't feel sorry for them.
I envy them.
I live is a very nice neighborhood. Everyone has at least two cars. Their lawns are perfectly manicured. Their kids are dressed quite well. I'm definitely in the wrong place.
Our landscaping is pretty poor, to say the least. It's required in our community to have your house properly landscaped. We try to keep up with it, but the weeds are winning.
I don't care.
Our back deck shows signs that people actually live in my house. Until recently we had a broken metal table outside with an umbrella (the umbrella is safely in the garage). The glass on the table shattered when the rusted joints on the legs gave way. It's been there for a year.
I don't care.
A friend of my son's proclaimed several weeks ago that 'my mom doesn't buy me anything'. I looked him full in the face and said, "What did you just say?"
"Well, she's always buying shoes and clothes for herself."
This woman is a dear friend of mine. She always looks nice and they can afford to have nice things. The boy doesn't want for anything. Unfortunately this seems to be the norm these days.
Just the other day I had my kids in the car. We were talking about how to manage money (my idea) and they said that they can't understand why others in the neighborhood have pools or every video game ever invented. They weren't complaining. I guess they were just questioning why people make the choices they do.
I explained to them how we take so much for granted. We have warm homes and plenty of food. Our clothes are not tattered.
"Did you know", I explained, "that some people in other countries live in cardboard boxes? They have no running water and they go hungry most of the time. I saw a picture last week of a child who used a plastic bag for a blanket."
They were incredulous but it didn't take long for them to forget the plight of others.
I watched a television program a few years ago about a typical family from New Jersey. They had two children; a preteen girl and a 10 year old boy. All their lives they were given everything they wanted. It got to the point where they complained if they didn't have the latest thing like their friends. Their parents had enough.
They took their children on a trip to Africa. They didn't stay in a nice hotel in a large city; rather, they took a 10 hour truck ride to a small village. Of course the kids were totally disgusted. They started crying and demanded to go home when they saw the living conditions. The people had to provide their own food and clothing with the resources that were available. The work ethic in that village was strong since their survival depended upon it.
The parents must have spoken to someone in the village to let them know that they were there to be contributing members in the community. The children had to work every day at tasks that were less than pleasant. They had to help clean the animals that were killed for food. They had to get water from a faraway resource. The list went on and on. They were disgusted that they were forced to do such tasks.
But slowly things changed. The kids learned to fall asleep early in order to get up and start their work. They noticed that EVERYONE was working hard. They realized that what they were doing contributed to everyone's survival.
The most amazing thing to them was how the people enjoyed themselves after their work was done. The smaller children played with sticks they found. The adults sang and danced in the evenings. They included the family in all their celebrations.
When their time was over the children were inconsolable. They had learned how to work and play hard. They realized that they weren't entitled to anything; it had to be earned. They didn't want to leave these incredible friends they had made. In the last part of the show it showed the family getting back on the truck to begin the 10 hour journey back to the airport. Even in the airplane they couldn't stop crying. The people in Africa were genuine. They knew how to maintain a successful community.
I suppose some could look at these people so far away in the middle of a desert and feel sorry for them. They have no modern conveniences. I don't feel sorry for them.
I envy them.
Friday, November 23, 2007
Say What???
I was recently reminiscing about the time when my son was small. Of course as I say time and time again, I can't believe how time flies. Anyway, I was remembering a time when he was around two years old. At that time he was in day care. The place was wonderful and his caregivers all loved him.
One day when I picked him up, there was a note on his daily activity record. The caregiver had written 'Danny has been saying B**** quite a bit today'. I was horrified but also quite puzzled. That was not like him at all. The next morning I dropped him off and talked to her.
"What happened exactly?", I asked. She replied, "yesterday we were all playing on the floor and the kids were crawling around. He kept saying 'b****, b*****'".
"I just don't understand!", I said, totally confused, "We don't say that at home. We don't swear at all at home. What was he doing when he said it?"
"Well, the kids were crawling around. I was sitting on the floor and he was crawling under my knees. He kept saying 'b****, b**** and we were all shocked".
I thought for a moment. Then it hit me.
"He wasn't saying b****; he was saying 'bridge'. His pronunciation isn't very good yet", I said, feeling a great sense of relief.
I left the daycare center feeling better, knowing that he wasn't picking up bad language.
The next evening my husband picked up our son. He too talked to the caregiver and they had a good laugh about the whole thing.
Before he left, my husband told her, "If you think that's bad, you should hear him say 'fork'".
One day when I picked him up, there was a note on his daily activity record. The caregiver had written 'Danny has been saying B**** quite a bit today'. I was horrified but also quite puzzled. That was not like him at all. The next morning I dropped him off and talked to her.
"What happened exactly?", I asked. She replied, "yesterday we were all playing on the floor and the kids were crawling around. He kept saying 'b****, b*****'".
"I just don't understand!", I said, totally confused, "We don't say that at home. We don't swear at all at home. What was he doing when he said it?"
"Well, the kids were crawling around. I was sitting on the floor and he was crawling under my knees. He kept saying 'b****, b**** and we were all shocked".
I thought for a moment. Then it hit me.
"He wasn't saying b****; he was saying 'bridge'. His pronunciation isn't very good yet", I said, feeling a great sense of relief.
I left the daycare center feeling better, knowing that he wasn't picking up bad language.
The next evening my husband picked up our son. He too talked to the caregiver and they had a good laugh about the whole thing.
Before he left, my husband told her, "If you think that's bad, you should hear him say 'fork'".
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Wilted
Every October my husband sends me roses for our anniversary. I love how they look when they arrive and, although I can't seem to arrange them well, it's nice to look at them and remember the day many years ago when we were married.
Recently my 7 year old daughter was in two cheerleading exhibitions. After each one my husband would present her with a rose to let her know how proud he was of her. She got so excited when we got home to find a vase and give them some water.
The exhibitions were about a week and a half after our anniversary. One morning I just stared at the two vases; mine with the droopy, wilted roses and hers with the bright cheery ones.
Is this the epitome of aging symbolism or what???
Thursday, November 8, 2007
Financial Ramblings: Part 2
I just read what I wrote yesterday. It seemed like I was whining about what we don't have. That's not the case at all! I don't want new clothes or new furniture. I don't want a fancy dining room or an in-ground pool. I really don't care what other people think about some of our old furniture or worn out clothes. I think it's more important to spend your money on things You REALLY want, not what you need to impress other people.
That being said, my husband and I have made two major purchases this week. Although these are big ticket items, I justify them by not being frivolous in other places. Hubby found a fantastic deal on a plasma TV on the new 'Black Friday'; the Friday after Halloween. The price was still high, but it was something that would work great in his den. I convinced him to get it and I'm glad I did. Yesterday, though, he had second thoughts. It WAS still a lot of money and he couldn't justify it. But we don't splurge very often and we work really hard. I still believe he should keep it and enjoy.
We are also getting an invisible fence for the dogs. I get so sick of tying them outside. They get tangled around the deck posts and I have to always have to go out and retrieve them. Again, it will cost a lot of money, but I haven't bought any clothes for myself in months. My kids get hand-me-downs that are in perfect shape. I personally believe our clothing budget alone is extremely low. There are other categories of spending that we don't use much. I just feel that when there is a big ticket item, it's not that big of a splurge.
Anyway, back to my money ramblings... I think of generations past when money was scarce and people learned to live without. Their houses were not grand. Clothing was homemade. Any money that was earned was treated with great respect. They called it 'Yankee Thrift', but I call it good judgement.
Fast forward to our current generation.
I'm still amazed at the lavish lifestyles I see all around me. I won't go on about our neighborhood, but I see it everyday. When people make a certain amount of money, they make sure to spend it. If the generations of yesterday saw this, they would be horrified. I'm not suggesting that people with good jobs go without. I'm only saying that we should all be living below our means. We've changed our priorities. Instead of saving our money for emergencies, we take that money and buy the newest clothes or furniture, or take lavish vacations. We're not making money to live; rather, we are living to make money. Any one of us could certainly live with a lot less. The house that costs $100,000 is certainly just as warm and comfortable as the $400,000 house. There may not be as many rooms, but why do you need two extra bedrooms, two or three living rooms, or three or four bathrooms? Our house is modest in comparison to a lot of houses around us. But our kids use our bathroom to take showers even though they have their own bathroom. We have a spare bedroom for guests, but whatever happened to the children sleeping on the living room floor so guests could use their rooms? These days people don't want to inconvenience their children. No wonder kids have so little respect for adults!!
I think I was born into the wrong generation. I always seem to be going against the ideas of everyone around me. My frustration wears on me and I have to constantly remind myself to let it go. Actually my husband is always telling me to let it go and he's right. I can't change the world. I can't change the mindset of modern man. I guess if I'm happy with myself and the way we are raising our children, it doesnt' matter where the modern world is going.
I only hope I truly believe that.
That being said, my husband and I have made two major purchases this week. Although these are big ticket items, I justify them by not being frivolous in other places. Hubby found a fantastic deal on a plasma TV on the new 'Black Friday'; the Friday after Halloween. The price was still high, but it was something that would work great in his den. I convinced him to get it and I'm glad I did. Yesterday, though, he had second thoughts. It WAS still a lot of money and he couldn't justify it. But we don't splurge very often and we work really hard. I still believe he should keep it and enjoy.
We are also getting an invisible fence for the dogs. I get so sick of tying them outside. They get tangled around the deck posts and I have to always have to go out and retrieve them. Again, it will cost a lot of money, but I haven't bought any clothes for myself in months. My kids get hand-me-downs that are in perfect shape. I personally believe our clothing budget alone is extremely low. There are other categories of spending that we don't use much. I just feel that when there is a big ticket item, it's not that big of a splurge.
Anyway, back to my money ramblings... I think of generations past when money was scarce and people learned to live without. Their houses were not grand. Clothing was homemade. Any money that was earned was treated with great respect. They called it 'Yankee Thrift', but I call it good judgement.
Fast forward to our current generation.
I'm still amazed at the lavish lifestyles I see all around me. I won't go on about our neighborhood, but I see it everyday. When people make a certain amount of money, they make sure to spend it. If the generations of yesterday saw this, they would be horrified. I'm not suggesting that people with good jobs go without. I'm only saying that we should all be living below our means. We've changed our priorities. Instead of saving our money for emergencies, we take that money and buy the newest clothes or furniture, or take lavish vacations. We're not making money to live; rather, we are living to make money. Any one of us could certainly live with a lot less. The house that costs $100,000 is certainly just as warm and comfortable as the $400,000 house. There may not be as many rooms, but why do you need two extra bedrooms, two or three living rooms, or three or four bathrooms? Our house is modest in comparison to a lot of houses around us. But our kids use our bathroom to take showers even though they have their own bathroom. We have a spare bedroom for guests, but whatever happened to the children sleeping on the living room floor so guests could use their rooms? These days people don't want to inconvenience their children. No wonder kids have so little respect for adults!!
I think I was born into the wrong generation. I always seem to be going against the ideas of everyone around me. My frustration wears on me and I have to constantly remind myself to let it go. Actually my husband is always telling me to let it go and he's right. I can't change the world. I can't change the mindset of modern man. I guess if I'm happy with myself and the way we are raising our children, it doesnt' matter where the modern world is going.
I only hope I truly believe that.
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
The Root of All Evil
I've been ruminating over a topic lately that I tried to forget. When I dwell on it I just get confused and frustrated. It's a topic that is common to all of us.
It's money.
I look at the world today and can't possibly understand how people are managing their money. I don't think we're frivolous. We might spend less than $100.00 each month for clothes. My kids wear hand-me-downs from friends and neighbors. We've had the same living room furniture for 17 years. Our kitchen table and dining room set is 20 years old. I see no need to replace it since it's still in fine shape.
What I can't understand is how everyone around us lives like kings. I see many women wear the latest fashions. Their kids have clothes that actually match. Many in our neighborhood have in-ground swimming pools which, when a mandatory fence is added, can cost upwards of $30,000. Many of these women work within the home.
My husband can't understand why I obsess about all this. I certainly don't envy them with all of their stuff. I'm happy with my life. What I don't understand is how they can afford all of it. Are they inheriting money? Are they not saving for retirement? It seems they don't have any more money than us, but I marvel at their lifestyle.
When I was growing up my parents both worked. They had good jobs but certainly not high salaries. Back then they saved their money and bought cars for cash. My Dad built our house next to my grandmother's house. They had a mortgage but paid it off as quickly as they could. The idea of a 30 year loan was unheard of. Our furniture was old, but we never went without. We were able to go on vacation once a year and they managed to pay for most of our college education.
What has happened to our mindset? Why do we need all of the bells and whistles that are available today? Why can't we live within our means? My idea of buying a house when we got married was to start small. We had both saved up quite a bit of money since we worked for years before our marriage. There were lots of nice houses we looked at that would have worked, but in the end we built a house for almost 75% more than we originally planned. We could easily afford it, but after taxes and upkeep our savings didn't grow much.
For some reason I was never comfortable in that house. After ten years we decided to move. Our dream was always to live on a river. We had found a lot on the river in another development. After consulting with a financial planner we were assured that we could afford our dream house.
The house was grand! It had two story windows looking out on the river. The yard was over an acre and we had a three car garage. However after living in it for a few months, the mortgage and the upcoming taxes were overwhelming. Also, while visitors marveled at the house, I realized that I wasn't marvelled anymore. It just became another house, but was much more to clean. Not long after we decided to sell.
A man from California came into town and bought the house. We made quite a profit on it and again, I wanted to downsize in order to be more comfortable.
We now live in a neighborhood that is highly regulated as far as appearances go. When we moved here we had to make a decision quickly. The area was not what we were looking for, but it was close to everything. We had made quite a profit on our first two houses and hoped to buy our new home with no mortgage
.
The first home we looked at wasn't our dream home, but it was new and we could have paid cash for it. Unfortunately someone put an offer in a few hours before us.
The second house was more expensive but it was beautiful. Again, we lost out on it by just a few hours. Instead we asked the builder to recreate it on another lot.
Our home is wonderful. It's very comfortable. The worst part is the development, but our neighbors are great. Because of our large down payment our mortgage is not bad at all. Actually, our taxes are more than our mortgage. That hurts.
My husband and I have great jobs. We have completed 20 years at each of our employers. One would think we would have money to spare... I wish!
In reality, we are in great shape financially. We have saved in retirement accounts for over 20 years. Our mortgage is low. We have no credit card debt. Then why is there so little left after payday?
In my next blog I'll ramble some more on this aggravating situation.
It's money.
I look at the world today and can't possibly understand how people are managing their money. I don't think we're frivolous. We might spend less than $100.00 each month for clothes. My kids wear hand-me-downs from friends and neighbors. We've had the same living room furniture for 17 years. Our kitchen table and dining room set is 20 years old. I see no need to replace it since it's still in fine shape.
What I can't understand is how everyone around us lives like kings. I see many women wear the latest fashions. Their kids have clothes that actually match. Many in our neighborhood have in-ground swimming pools which, when a mandatory fence is added, can cost upwards of $30,000. Many of these women work within the home.
My husband can't understand why I obsess about all this. I certainly don't envy them with all of their stuff. I'm happy with my life. What I don't understand is how they can afford all of it. Are they inheriting money? Are they not saving for retirement? It seems they don't have any more money than us, but I marvel at their lifestyle.
When I was growing up my parents both worked. They had good jobs but certainly not high salaries. Back then they saved their money and bought cars for cash. My Dad built our house next to my grandmother's house. They had a mortgage but paid it off as quickly as they could. The idea of a 30 year loan was unheard of. Our furniture was old, but we never went without. We were able to go on vacation once a year and they managed to pay for most of our college education.
What has happened to our mindset? Why do we need all of the bells and whistles that are available today? Why can't we live within our means? My idea of buying a house when we got married was to start small. We had both saved up quite a bit of money since we worked for years before our marriage. There were lots of nice houses we looked at that would have worked, but in the end we built a house for almost 75% more than we originally planned. We could easily afford it, but after taxes and upkeep our savings didn't grow much.
For some reason I was never comfortable in that house. After ten years we decided to move. Our dream was always to live on a river. We had found a lot on the river in another development. After consulting with a financial planner we were assured that we could afford our dream house.
The house was grand! It had two story windows looking out on the river. The yard was over an acre and we had a three car garage. However after living in it for a few months, the mortgage and the upcoming taxes were overwhelming. Also, while visitors marveled at the house, I realized that I wasn't marvelled anymore. It just became another house, but was much more to clean. Not long after we decided to sell.
A man from California came into town and bought the house. We made quite a profit on it and again, I wanted to downsize in order to be more comfortable.
We now live in a neighborhood that is highly regulated as far as appearances go. When we moved here we had to make a decision quickly. The area was not what we were looking for, but it was close to everything. We had made quite a profit on our first two houses and hoped to buy our new home with no mortgage
.
The first home we looked at wasn't our dream home, but it was new and we could have paid cash for it. Unfortunately someone put an offer in a few hours before us.
The second house was more expensive but it was beautiful. Again, we lost out on it by just a few hours. Instead we asked the builder to recreate it on another lot.
Our home is wonderful. It's very comfortable. The worst part is the development, but our neighbors are great. Because of our large down payment our mortgage is not bad at all. Actually, our taxes are more than our mortgage. That hurts.
My husband and I have great jobs. We have completed 20 years at each of our employers. One would think we would have money to spare... I wish!
In reality, we are in great shape financially. We have saved in retirement accounts for over 20 years. Our mortgage is low. We have no credit card debt. Then why is there so little left after payday?
In my next blog I'll ramble some more on this aggravating situation.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Who's the Parent?
Last week I personally experienced something that I had only heard about. It's starting to happen already...
For years I have made sure my kids had everything they needed. While at daycare I made sure there were enough diapers and spare clothes in case of accidents. In winter I doled out boots and mittens quickly before they ran out the door. My goal in the morning was to ensure that they had their backpacks and lunches and homework etc.
The weather started getting colder here in the last month. One morning I was in a hurry to get the kids across the street so they could catch the bus with my neighbor's kids. My car was in the garage and I ran in and out of the house with the things I would need for the day; purse, lunch, keys blah blah blah. My son was putting on his shoes in the entryway while I climbed into my car. I don't leave until I know they are safely across the street.
Soon my son emerged from the house. He was holding something in his hand. I had heard people say that as we get older we experience role reversal with our children. I was just surprised it was starting so early.
"Mom", he said, coming towards the car, "you forgot your coat".
For years I have made sure my kids had everything they needed. While at daycare I made sure there were enough diapers and spare clothes in case of accidents. In winter I doled out boots and mittens quickly before they ran out the door. My goal in the morning was to ensure that they had their backpacks and lunches and homework etc.
The weather started getting colder here in the last month. One morning I was in a hurry to get the kids across the street so they could catch the bus with my neighbor's kids. My car was in the garage and I ran in and out of the house with the things I would need for the day; purse, lunch, keys blah blah blah. My son was putting on his shoes in the entryway while I climbed into my car. I don't leave until I know they are safely across the street.
Soon my son emerged from the house. He was holding something in his hand. I had heard people say that as we get older we experience role reversal with our children. I was just surprised it was starting so early.
"Mom", he said, coming towards the car, "you forgot your coat".
Friday, October 19, 2007
The Candy Lady
My husband's parents died before we started dating. After we had our children my mom and dad were the only grandparents they had. My dad passed away in 2003 and now my mom is their only grandparent.
She is so good to the kids. They'll stay over and she'll take them out to breakfast. She cooks some things for them that I do, but her versions are much better. If there is a game of some kind or competition she'll be there. After my dad died, we'd force her to go on vacation with us. When she gave us a hard time, my kids wouldn't take no for an answer. They'll have great memories of her.
My grandmother was quite different.
She was my mom's mother and lived next door to us all of my life. My grandfather died in 1973 so we also only had one grandparent. She was not one to babysit us; her patience was non-existent even though we never caused trouble. Her sister, my great aunt who lived on the other side of us, would come over and watch us. We never knew any different so it didn't matter.
My grandmother showed her love in different ways. She would take us shopping quite often and buy us clothes. Again, her patience was not her forte, and I learned to try on clothes at super speeds before she started yelling.
My oldest sister was born in 1954. My other sister arrived in 1960 and soon after I was in the making. I remember my mom telling me that, when she got the news, she went next door to tell my grandmother the news since she was so excited. After she gave the news, my grandmother yelled at her and told her how foolish she was. Her favorite saying was "..what you don't have you don't miss". My mom went back home crying. At first this looks like she was a mean woman, but when you look at her background you can see why.
She was brought up in a farmhouse a few doors from where we live. In the early part of the century there were many struggles just to survive. She was one of 13 or 14 children (give or take), and knew how much work it was. Back then, the older children took care of the younger ones. In addition, her brothers and sisters had to work on their farm and also other farms in the area.
When she was older the nation was going through the Great Depression. It was during this time that she became obsessed with food. I remember that as soon as one meal was finished, she'd be planning what we'd have for the next meal. She treated food like a god I guess because it was so scarce back then.
Anyway, looking through her eyes, I can see her point. However, she forgot that some people really like kids and could afford them. Once I was born, she liked me.
Fast forward to 11 years ago.
I announced my pregnancy to her one day when I went to visit.
"What did you go and do that for?", she demanded. "You had it made! Good jobs and a nice house. You know, what you don't have you don't miss. What you don't laugh over you don't cry over." I just laughed at her knowing that was the reaction to expect. After she saw that I wasn't sorry she got used to the idea.
Three years later our daughter was born. We had a birthday party at my mom's house. My birthday and my grandmother's birthday were only one day apart. Our daughter was only 4 months old. My husband knew that my grandmother didn't handle kids well at all. He took our daughter over to her and started putting her in my grandmother's lap.
"NO NO!!!", she yelled, "Take it away!! I'm going to kill you!" Of course my husband didn't give up. She had to hold the baby. The look on her face was one of pure terror. She froze. Everyone was quite amused and, after my husband took the offending baby away, she even laughed.
A few years later, my kids would go over to her house to say hello. They'd always come back with lots of candy. My grandmother had a whole drawer in her kitchen filled with candy. To her, it was one of the basic food groups. Even as a child I remember going over and getting lots of candy.
In her later years, we would go over to visit and get our candy. She started hugging us good-bye as we were leaving. I'm not a huggy person and was quite surprised because she usually wasn't either. My kids would thank her and hug her good-bye.
My grandmother died 4 years ago. She was 91 and had been active and busy until the cancer showed up.
To this day when my kids refer to her, they always call her 'The Candy Lady'.
She is so good to the kids. They'll stay over and she'll take them out to breakfast. She cooks some things for them that I do, but her versions are much better. If there is a game of some kind or competition she'll be there. After my dad died, we'd force her to go on vacation with us. When she gave us a hard time, my kids wouldn't take no for an answer. They'll have great memories of her.
My grandmother was quite different.
She was my mom's mother and lived next door to us all of my life. My grandfather died in 1973 so we also only had one grandparent. She was not one to babysit us; her patience was non-existent even though we never caused trouble. Her sister, my great aunt who lived on the other side of us, would come over and watch us. We never knew any different so it didn't matter.
My grandmother showed her love in different ways. She would take us shopping quite often and buy us clothes. Again, her patience was not her forte, and I learned to try on clothes at super speeds before she started yelling.
My oldest sister was born in 1954. My other sister arrived in 1960 and soon after I was in the making. I remember my mom telling me that, when she got the news, she went next door to tell my grandmother the news since she was so excited. After she gave the news, my grandmother yelled at her and told her how foolish she was. Her favorite saying was "..what you don't have you don't miss". My mom went back home crying. At first this looks like she was a mean woman, but when you look at her background you can see why.
She was brought up in a farmhouse a few doors from where we live. In the early part of the century there were many struggles just to survive. She was one of 13 or 14 children (give or take), and knew how much work it was. Back then, the older children took care of the younger ones. In addition, her brothers and sisters had to work on their farm and also other farms in the area.
When she was older the nation was going through the Great Depression. It was during this time that she became obsessed with food. I remember that as soon as one meal was finished, she'd be planning what we'd have for the next meal. She treated food like a god I guess because it was so scarce back then.
Anyway, looking through her eyes, I can see her point. However, she forgot that some people really like kids and could afford them. Once I was born, she liked me.
Fast forward to 11 years ago.
I announced my pregnancy to her one day when I went to visit.
"What did you go and do that for?", she demanded. "You had it made! Good jobs and a nice house. You know, what you don't have you don't miss. What you don't laugh over you don't cry over." I just laughed at her knowing that was the reaction to expect. After she saw that I wasn't sorry she got used to the idea.
Three years later our daughter was born. We had a birthday party at my mom's house. My birthday and my grandmother's birthday were only one day apart. Our daughter was only 4 months old. My husband knew that my grandmother didn't handle kids well at all. He took our daughter over to her and started putting her in my grandmother's lap.
"NO NO!!!", she yelled, "Take it away!! I'm going to kill you!" Of course my husband didn't give up. She had to hold the baby. The look on her face was one of pure terror. She froze. Everyone was quite amused and, after my husband took the offending baby away, she even laughed.
A few years later, my kids would go over to her house to say hello. They'd always come back with lots of candy. My grandmother had a whole drawer in her kitchen filled with candy. To her, it was one of the basic food groups. Even as a child I remember going over and getting lots of candy.
In her later years, we would go over to visit and get our candy. She started hugging us good-bye as we were leaving. I'm not a huggy person and was quite surprised because she usually wasn't either. My kids would thank her and hug her good-bye.
My grandmother died 4 years ago. She was 91 and had been active and busy until the cancer showed up.
To this day when my kids refer to her, they always call her 'The Candy Lady'.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
The Apple Doesn't Fall Far
My son has found my blog.
He is now helping me create this post. I naively forgot that he can now read and find my blog in my 'favorites' file. Duh. Oh well, here goes....
Hi! My name is 'rubber chicken'. (Remember; he's 10). And I also like to say "I like cheese. I'm spreading around the nation. My friend 'monkey-boy' is helping me. Anyway, enough about cheese. Today at school me and my friend, 'monkey-boy', started coming up with punchlines. His is 'Weezy, squeezy, peezy... I don't remember the rest.' And mine was 'Your mom'. It works pretty well, like last year these girls who talk about health too much started saying something that I can't remember and I said, after that, "Your mom". It sounded like she was offended, so I was happy. I knew it would work. And mom, sorry if you're offended. Anyway, I have to go now because it's past my bedtime and all I want to do in life is please my parents and do as they say. [Yeah, I (mom) wrote that part because it IS bedtime]. Actually it is 6 minutes BEFORE my bedtime.
Hi again, it's been about a month since I wrote the paragraph above. Anyways, I've been doing a lot over the past month. Ummm..... . I'm thinking of a weird commercial about my credit score. Guess what the guy's credit score is? 720!!!! Ha ha! My mom wants me to think of a story. There once was a rabbit named Bob. The end. There you go, Mom!!!!!!
I'm back (mom). Is he a blogger in the making, or WHAT?????
He is now helping me create this post. I naively forgot that he can now read and find my blog in my 'favorites' file. Duh. Oh well, here goes....
Hi! My name is 'rubber chicken'. (Remember; he's 10). And I also like to say "I like cheese. I'm spreading around the nation. My friend 'monkey-boy' is helping me. Anyway, enough about cheese. Today at school me and my friend, 'monkey-boy', started coming up with punchlines. His is 'Weezy, squeezy, peezy... I don't remember the rest.' And mine was 'Your mom'. It works pretty well, like last year these girls who talk about health too much started saying something that I can't remember and I said, after that, "Your mom". It sounded like she was offended, so I was happy. I knew it would work. And mom, sorry if you're offended. Anyway, I have to go now because it's past my bedtime and all I want to do in life is please my parents and do as they say. [Yeah, I (mom) wrote that part because it IS bedtime]. Actually it is 6 minutes BEFORE my bedtime.
Hi again, it's been about a month since I wrote the paragraph above. Anyways, I've been doing a lot over the past month. Ummm..... . I'm thinking of a weird commercial about my credit score. Guess what the guy's credit score is? 720!!!! Ha ha! My mom wants me to think of a story. There once was a rabbit named Bob. The end. There you go, Mom!!!!!!
I'm back (mom). Is he a blogger in the making, or WHAT?????
Friday, October 5, 2007
I Do
Sixteen years ago today we stood in our church and got married. It seems like yesterday, but when I look at the pictures I can tell that we were much younger. Our nieces and nephews were children and toddlers. Today they are all grown. Our friends and families were smiling and laughing. Many of the people that were at our reception are gone now. I remember not being nervous at all. There was no doubt in either of our minds that we were meant to be together. The day went by without a glitch, but even if the sky fell down I didn't care. We were celebrating a committment we made with everyone around us that we loved.
My husband is not one to go to great lengths to be romantic. I'm glad! I never got into the fancy schmancy romantic dates and sappy words. It made me comfortable to be with him because he was my best friend for so long.
His proposal the year before was so typically 'him'. Hubby has had a love of cars forever. Our house is filled with car magazines and there's a good chance that every day he will tell me about a new car model he's seen or heard about.
One sunny Saturday in 1990 I got out of work and went over to his house. As usual he was in his driveway washing his car. We chatted about the day as I watched him concentrate on every square inch of the second love of his life.
"Do you want your birthday present now?" he asked. He's like a little kid with presents. He can't wait to give and open presents. I agreed even though my birthday was more than a week away. A few months before I had bought his car from him since he was planning on getting a new one. The only thing missing from it was a CD player. I was hoping it was waiting for me.
"Go in the kitchen. It's on the table".
I walked into the house and there on the table was a wrapped present. I started getting so excited because it was shaped like a CD player box and was quite heavy.
I took it outside to open it. He watched me out of the corner of his eye as I unwrapped the package. Sure enough it was a CD player box. I was so thrilled since it was what I really wanted.
"Thanks so much! I'm so excited!" I exclaimed.
"Open the box", he insisted. I didn't know why I had to since I knew what it was, but I did anyway. Inside the box lay a pair of plyers. I looked up at him wondering what he was up to.
"Oh. Thank you", I said not quite knowing what to say. "They're lovely".
He came over and took the box from me. In the corner was a small cardboard box which had supposedly held part of the CD player that did not exist. He opened that box to reveal a little black velvet box.
I began to shake. I took the small box from him and opened it. Inside was a beautiful sparkling diamond ring He took it out of the box and asked me to marry him. Of course I said yes quite enthusiastically. He then put the ring on my finger and went back to washing his car.
I can't imagine him proposing any other way. A romantic dinner at a restaurant would have been nice, but it wasn't us. His driveway was perfect. It symbolized the life we loved; house, cars, each other.
Sixteen years ago we made the committment permanent. Although we have weathered some difficult times, like everyone, there was never any doubt that having each other to lean on was a precious gift that we will have 'until death do us part'.
My husband is not one to go to great lengths to be romantic. I'm glad! I never got into the fancy schmancy romantic dates and sappy words. It made me comfortable to be with him because he was my best friend for so long.
His proposal the year before was so typically 'him'. Hubby has had a love of cars forever. Our house is filled with car magazines and there's a good chance that every day he will tell me about a new car model he's seen or heard about.
One sunny Saturday in 1990 I got out of work and went over to his house. As usual he was in his driveway washing his car. We chatted about the day as I watched him concentrate on every square inch of the second love of his life.
"Do you want your birthday present now?" he asked. He's like a little kid with presents. He can't wait to give and open presents. I agreed even though my birthday was more than a week away. A few months before I had bought his car from him since he was planning on getting a new one. The only thing missing from it was a CD player. I was hoping it was waiting for me.
"Go in the kitchen. It's on the table".
I walked into the house and there on the table was a wrapped present. I started getting so excited because it was shaped like a CD player box and was quite heavy.
I took it outside to open it. He watched me out of the corner of his eye as I unwrapped the package. Sure enough it was a CD player box. I was so thrilled since it was what I really wanted.
"Thanks so much! I'm so excited!" I exclaimed.
"Open the box", he insisted. I didn't know why I had to since I knew what it was, but I did anyway. Inside the box lay a pair of plyers. I looked up at him wondering what he was up to.
"Oh. Thank you", I said not quite knowing what to say. "They're lovely".
He came over and took the box from me. In the corner was a small cardboard box which had supposedly held part of the CD player that did not exist. He opened that box to reveal a little black velvet box.
I began to shake. I took the small box from him and opened it. Inside was a beautiful sparkling diamond ring He took it out of the box and asked me to marry him. Of course I said yes quite enthusiastically. He then put the ring on my finger and went back to washing his car.
I can't imagine him proposing any other way. A romantic dinner at a restaurant would have been nice, but it wasn't us. His driveway was perfect. It symbolized the life we loved; house, cars, each other.
Sixteen years ago we made the committment permanent. Although we have weathered some difficult times, like everyone, there was never any doubt that having each other to lean on was a precious gift that we will have 'until death do us part'.
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
Where Has My Little Dog Gone?
I'm pretty new at this blogging thing. I've noticed that I get long-winded (or long-typing) on every blog. I have to learn that it doesn't have to be so long. I'm going to try right now.
We have two dogs. We originally had one that I'll refer to as 'white dog'. He's been with us for 4 1/2 years. It was after my dad died that I felt I needed a sympathy dog. There is a long story associated with this that I might go into at a later time. Anyway, white dog is the best dog in the world. He's friendly to everyone and is especially gentle with children.
This year I experienced a bit of temporary insanity. I had fallen in love with my friend's little brown dog and asked my husband if I could have one. In another bit of temporary insanity he said yes. Little brown dog is sweet too except that he is difficult to housebreak. He's also very curious.
I bring my dogs to work with me everyday. Today, however, white dog is at my mom's house since he has a grooming appointment tomorrow. Little brown dog is walking in circles (yes; since he has to pee), but also because he's lost without white dog. My mom told me this morning that white dog is the same way.
I'm feeling so bad for them. If hubby was here, he'd give me a funny look and remind me that they are just dogs.
I don't know. I feel that an apology and a treat are in order.
We have two dogs. We originally had one that I'll refer to as 'white dog'. He's been with us for 4 1/2 years. It was after my dad died that I felt I needed a sympathy dog. There is a long story associated with this that I might go into at a later time. Anyway, white dog is the best dog in the world. He's friendly to everyone and is especially gentle with children.
This year I experienced a bit of temporary insanity. I had fallen in love with my friend's little brown dog and asked my husband if I could have one. In another bit of temporary insanity he said yes. Little brown dog is sweet too except that he is difficult to housebreak. He's also very curious.
I bring my dogs to work with me everyday. Today, however, white dog is at my mom's house since he has a grooming appointment tomorrow. Little brown dog is walking in circles (yes; since he has to pee), but also because he's lost without white dog. My mom told me this morning that white dog is the same way.
I'm feeling so bad for them. If hubby was here, he'd give me a funny look and remind me that they are just dogs.
I don't know. I feel that an apology and a treat are in order.
Monday, October 1, 2007
Some Things Never Change
It's amazing how things have changed since the 1950's for women. Years ago, the husband was 'in charge' of the house. They worked 8 hours a day and their wives took care of the home and children. In my family this was almost always the case. My grandmother was ahead of her time being a supervisor at a company near here. My grandfather worked nights and slept all day. It was still her responsibility, however, to have dinner ready every night and keep the house clean. Since she was working too my mother started cleaning and cooking at a very early age. My grandfather would come home only to sleep and eat. My grandmother and mother did the rest.
After my parents were married they built a house on the lot next door to my grandparents. My father was an excellent carpenter and did almost everything himself along with his brothers. My mother was taking care of my sister who was just a toddler. She also cooked for all of the workers, cleaned my grandmother's house where they were temporarily living, and worked two jobs. Years later, my father constantly let her know how she didn't care about him because she didn't go to the worksite often and keep him company. My dad was unfortunately clueless. Knowing my mother, she probably DID go over, but he had selective memory.
Years later after my other sister was born and I came along a year later, mom went back to school to become a teacher. She started teaching full time when I was in kindergarten. We got out of school at 2:00 and she would go home cook and clean and make sure the house was presentable before my father came home. She had a hot meal prepared every night but had to wait until he relaxed from work to serve it. If it was cold he would get angry. She couldn't win but never complained.
I still don't understand after all of these years how she didn't get mad and serve him cold food. But back then, it was easier to keep the peace at any cost. It didn't make sense to me which was surprising since it was all I knew. Don't ask me how, but I was born with high self esteem and couldn't believe she put up with it.
My husband is so much different from my father. When I told him I hated to cook, he couldn't criticize since he hated it too. He never 'expected' me to do certain things; we just worked together to keep the house going. Though it is still difficult for me, I will ask him for help when I have to.
My mother still cracks me up.
Ever since we've been married, she tiptoes around my husband not wanting to bother him. There are things around the house that need fixing and, since my father died, hubby is the logical one to ask. There's not much he can't do.
Instead of asking him straight out, she'll talk to me first.
"Do you thing hubby will mind if I ask him to check the lawnmower?" she'll say. This is a woman who has helped us through the years watching the kids, cooking for us, and numerous other things. I'll laugh and tell her to ask him. I eventually have to ask him so he won't get 'mad' at her.
This summer at camp, she came up to me and asked if hubby would mind if she made a nice dinner for us. I'm not kidding. She wanted to make us a nice roast beef dinner with potatoes and all the fixings. Granted, hubby is a little strange with meals. He doesn't like a lot of fuss. But I love having her cook for us. She really enjoys it too but is very cautious with hubby.
"Mom", I replied, "you don't have to ask. I would love you too make it and if he doesn't want it, too bad".
We have to make sure the man is happy.
That same week I painted the front wall in the new camp. I was on an extension ladder 28 feet in the air for quite a while. First I had to prime the walls and then paint. It was extremely scary being up that high, but I just didn't look down. After two days up there it was done.
The next day hubby wanted to install the spotlight at the outside peak of the same wall. Mom told my nephew to be near him while he climbed the ladder and installed the light 'just in case'. Her face was white as she watched him climb. It was only when he was done that she could relax.
"You know," she said, " hubby was really scared up there, the poor guy".
"Mom," I said with disbelief on my face, "I know he was, but I was up that high for two days, terrified of falling".
"Well, yeah, but he was outside".
That was different, why??????
I love to tease her about it. Our job as women is to make sure our men don't have any unnecessary stress, according to the older generation. My husband and I are partners. We both take care of the house and kids. He gets home from work before me and, when I get home, the kids have already done their homework. The washer and dryer are running and occasionally dinner is cooking. I usually do the grocery shopping, but sometimes when I'm short on time, he'll go. I tell people that he's the best wife a woman ever had.
I just wish my mom would be a little less chicken around him.
After my parents were married they built a house on the lot next door to my grandparents. My father was an excellent carpenter and did almost everything himself along with his brothers. My mother was taking care of my sister who was just a toddler. She also cooked for all of the workers, cleaned my grandmother's house where they were temporarily living, and worked two jobs. Years later, my father constantly let her know how she didn't care about him because she didn't go to the worksite often and keep him company. My dad was unfortunately clueless. Knowing my mother, she probably DID go over, but he had selective memory.
Years later after my other sister was born and I came along a year later, mom went back to school to become a teacher. She started teaching full time when I was in kindergarten. We got out of school at 2:00 and she would go home cook and clean and make sure the house was presentable before my father came home. She had a hot meal prepared every night but had to wait until he relaxed from work to serve it. If it was cold he would get angry. She couldn't win but never complained.
I still don't understand after all of these years how she didn't get mad and serve him cold food. But back then, it was easier to keep the peace at any cost. It didn't make sense to me which was surprising since it was all I knew. Don't ask me how, but I was born with high self esteem and couldn't believe she put up with it.
My husband is so much different from my father. When I told him I hated to cook, he couldn't criticize since he hated it too. He never 'expected' me to do certain things; we just worked together to keep the house going. Though it is still difficult for me, I will ask him for help when I have to.
My mother still cracks me up.
Ever since we've been married, she tiptoes around my husband not wanting to bother him. There are things around the house that need fixing and, since my father died, hubby is the logical one to ask. There's not much he can't do.
Instead of asking him straight out, she'll talk to me first.
"Do you thing hubby will mind if I ask him to check the lawnmower?" she'll say. This is a woman who has helped us through the years watching the kids, cooking for us, and numerous other things. I'll laugh and tell her to ask him. I eventually have to ask him so he won't get 'mad' at her.
This summer at camp, she came up to me and asked if hubby would mind if she made a nice dinner for us. I'm not kidding. She wanted to make us a nice roast beef dinner with potatoes and all the fixings. Granted, hubby is a little strange with meals. He doesn't like a lot of fuss. But I love having her cook for us. She really enjoys it too but is very cautious with hubby.
"Mom", I replied, "you don't have to ask. I would love you too make it and if he doesn't want it, too bad".
We have to make sure the man is happy.
That same week I painted the front wall in the new camp. I was on an extension ladder 28 feet in the air for quite a while. First I had to prime the walls and then paint. It was extremely scary being up that high, but I just didn't look down. After two days up there it was done.
The next day hubby wanted to install the spotlight at the outside peak of the same wall. Mom told my nephew to be near him while he climbed the ladder and installed the light 'just in case'. Her face was white as she watched him climb. It was only when he was done that she could relax.
"You know," she said, " hubby was really scared up there, the poor guy".
"Mom," I said with disbelief on my face, "I know he was, but I was up that high for two days, terrified of falling".
"Well, yeah, but he was outside".
That was different, why??????
I love to tease her about it. Our job as women is to make sure our men don't have any unnecessary stress, according to the older generation. My husband and I are partners. We both take care of the house and kids. He gets home from work before me and, when I get home, the kids have already done their homework. The washer and dryer are running and occasionally dinner is cooking. I usually do the grocery shopping, but sometimes when I'm short on time, he'll go. I tell people that he's the best wife a woman ever had.
I just wish my mom would be a little less chicken around him.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Who's on First?
I thought I had finally gotten our schedule straight.
This week was going to be a little busier so I wrote everything down: Football practice Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday from 5:45-8:00; Cheerleading Monday and Tuesday from 6:00-8:00, Cheerleading Wednesday from 6:00 to 7:30; Haircuts for me and my daughter on Thursday at 6:30; Half day of school on Friday for kids; Stitching class for Mom, Sister and I on Saturday; Casino lunch Saturday afteroon with Mom, Sis and Hubby; nothing Sunday.
Rots of Ruck.
Being a little obsessive compulsive, a schedule reduces my anxiety about upcoming events. Anything that diverts from that schedule gives me a meltdown.
But this week would be different. Everything was in black and white.
I checked my Haircut appointment to make sure I had the date correct. I didn't. It was scheduled on Wednesday night instead of Thursday. No problem. I'll change it. Whoops! Forgot about curriculum night at school. What night was that? Oh yeah!
Wednesday night! There will be three sessions to make it easier on us. I figure I can drop daughter off at cheerleading at 6:00, make it to two sessions, and be back in time to pick her up, if in fact cheerleading actually DOES end at 7:30. Last night I arrived early, or so I thought, at 7:55 when practice finished at 8:00 only to find my daughter waiting there with one of the coaches telling me I was late. When did that schedule change?
But I digress.
OK. I've got Wednesday night figured out. My anxiety level is just slightly elevated.
Thursday, hopefully, there will be no changes.
My mom was coming over on Friday to get the kids off the bus since it will be a half-day. Great! Oh, wait a minute! Daughter was just invited to a friend's birthday bowling party in the afternoon. No Problem! I'll go get her at school at 12:15 during my lunch break, bring her back to her friend's house (which, conveniently is right across the street from my office), and get back to work by 1:00. I'll pick her up after work and go home.
Uh oh. I forgot. I have a doctor's appointment at 4:45. I have to call the friend's mother and see if she can watch her until around 6:00 when I can pick her up. It's way out of the way, but I'm grateful she is so welcome.
OK. Friday solved (except for son; I have to figure out who will get him off the bus after half-day dismissal).
Phew!
Saturday; no problem! Daughter's cheerleading was originally scheduled for Saturday morning so hubby could have taken her there while I'm stitching with Mom and Sis. I found out soon enough (2 days before) that it was changed to 6:00 Saturday night.
No sweat.
Hubby can come with us to the casino for lunch while Sweet Niece watches our kids. We can be back in time for daughter's game.
Wait a minute.
Hubby just told me that son's football game is Saturday at 12:30. We were originally planning on getting to the casino around 1:00 so we could catch the lunch buffet. Oh well. We'll have to wait for son's game to end before we can go. My husband feels bad, though, because daughter would miss her game. I completely understand. You can't go to son's game and blow off daughter's.
There is no solution thus far to this puzzle. I'll push it aside for now.
At least we can have a family day on Sunday.
Not so fast.
"I leave on Sunday", hubby said.
Me: Where are you going?
Him: Remember? I'm going to North Carolina for work.
Me: But that's not until October!
Him: No. It's Sunday.
Me: But I thought it was October 22nd or something. You told me it changed from September to October!
Him: No I didn't. I have the itinerary right here.
Me: (looking at the itinerary) Oh.
Him: That's why I kept asking you to see if your mom could get the kids off the bus on Monday and Tuesday.
Me: I haven't asked her yet because October 22nd was too far away.
Him: It's not October. It's next week.
Me: Oh. So what are we going to do?
Him: Call your mother and see if she can get the kids off the bus!
Me: She's going to yell at me because I ALWAYS wait until the last minute. Only this ISN'T THE LAST MINUTE!
Him: (silence)
Several minutes later:
Me: Hi mom!
Mom: Hello. What's up?
I explain the situation to her.
Mom: I can do it, but why do you always wait until the last minute????
OK; back to Sunday. I have a great plan. Sweet niece can stay overnight on Saturday. On Sunday morning we can go back to Mom's, have a nice breakfast and spend time with Sis and Sweet Niece. Sissy will probably leave around noon, and I'll be able to get hubby to the airport in time.
At least next week will be easier. Everything is written down on our calendar so there won't be any more conflicts.
Yeah, right.....
This week was going to be a little busier so I wrote everything down: Football practice Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday from 5:45-8:00; Cheerleading Monday and Tuesday from 6:00-8:00, Cheerleading Wednesday from 6:00 to 7:30; Haircuts for me and my daughter on Thursday at 6:30; Half day of school on Friday for kids; Stitching class for Mom, Sister and I on Saturday; Casino lunch Saturday afteroon with Mom, Sis and Hubby; nothing Sunday.
Rots of Ruck.
Being a little obsessive compulsive, a schedule reduces my anxiety about upcoming events. Anything that diverts from that schedule gives me a meltdown.
But this week would be different. Everything was in black and white.
I checked my Haircut appointment to make sure I had the date correct. I didn't. It was scheduled on Wednesday night instead of Thursday. No problem. I'll change it. Whoops! Forgot about curriculum night at school. What night was that? Oh yeah!
Wednesday night! There will be three sessions to make it easier on us. I figure I can drop daughter off at cheerleading at 6:00, make it to two sessions, and be back in time to pick her up, if in fact cheerleading actually DOES end at 7:30. Last night I arrived early, or so I thought, at 7:55 when practice finished at 8:00 only to find my daughter waiting there with one of the coaches telling me I was late. When did that schedule change?
But I digress.
OK. I've got Wednesday night figured out. My anxiety level is just slightly elevated.
Thursday, hopefully, there will be no changes.
My mom was coming over on Friday to get the kids off the bus since it will be a half-day. Great! Oh, wait a minute! Daughter was just invited to a friend's birthday bowling party in the afternoon. No Problem! I'll go get her at school at 12:15 during my lunch break, bring her back to her friend's house (which, conveniently is right across the street from my office), and get back to work by 1:00. I'll pick her up after work and go home.
Uh oh. I forgot. I have a doctor's appointment at 4:45. I have to call the friend's mother and see if she can watch her until around 6:00 when I can pick her up. It's way out of the way, but I'm grateful she is so welcome.
OK. Friday solved (except for son; I have to figure out who will get him off the bus after half-day dismissal).
Phew!
Saturday; no problem! Daughter's cheerleading was originally scheduled for Saturday morning so hubby could have taken her there while I'm stitching with Mom and Sis. I found out soon enough (2 days before) that it was changed to 6:00 Saturday night.
No sweat.
Hubby can come with us to the casino for lunch while Sweet Niece watches our kids. We can be back in time for daughter's game.
Wait a minute.
Hubby just told me that son's football game is Saturday at 12:30. We were originally planning on getting to the casino around 1:00 so we could catch the lunch buffet. Oh well. We'll have to wait for son's game to end before we can go. My husband feels bad, though, because daughter would miss her game. I completely understand. You can't go to son's game and blow off daughter's.
There is no solution thus far to this puzzle. I'll push it aside for now.
At least we can have a family day on Sunday.
Not so fast.
"I leave on Sunday", hubby said.
Me: Where are you going?
Him: Remember? I'm going to North Carolina for work.
Me: But that's not until October!
Him: No. It's Sunday.
Me: But I thought it was October 22nd or something. You told me it changed from September to October!
Him: No I didn't. I have the itinerary right here.
Me: (looking at the itinerary) Oh.
Him: That's why I kept asking you to see if your mom could get the kids off the bus on Monday and Tuesday.
Me: I haven't asked her yet because October 22nd was too far away.
Him: It's not October. It's next week.
Me: Oh. So what are we going to do?
Him: Call your mother and see if she can get the kids off the bus!
Me: She's going to yell at me because I ALWAYS wait until the last minute. Only this ISN'T THE LAST MINUTE!
Him: (silence)
Several minutes later:
Me: Hi mom!
Mom: Hello. What's up?
I explain the situation to her.
Mom: I can do it, but why do you always wait until the last minute????
OK; back to Sunday. I have a great plan. Sweet niece can stay overnight on Saturday. On Sunday morning we can go back to Mom's, have a nice breakfast and spend time with Sis and Sweet Niece. Sissy will probably leave around noon, and I'll be able to get hubby to the airport in time.
At least next week will be easier. Everything is written down on our calendar so there won't be any more conflicts.
Yeah, right.....
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Hey Dude . . . Where's my Brain?
I swear I spend at least 50% of my life looking for things.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not a slob. Actually, I'm a bit obsessive about organization. The problem is, I have no time to organize anything. When I do, I do such a good job that I still can't find anything.
Last fall I spent weeks painting the inside of my garage. I threw away a LOT of stuff, even duplicates of shovels and rakes, etc. I then bought some nice wall mount cabinets designed specifically for garage storage. It was so exciting! I was able to fit all the dog stuff on one shelf. The bottom cabinets held all of our car stuff. Another held all of our gardening stuff. Extra laundry soap went in another and soda and water went in still another one.
I also bought slatwalls to hold hooks for all of our normal garage stuff. The rakes and shovels had their own hooks. Garden hoses hung on special brackets on the slatwall. Another section held all of our household cleaning implements such as brooms and mops. I even bought bicycle lifts so that our bicycles could be hoisted up towards the ceiling when not in use. My goal was not to have anything actually on the garage floor.
For my husband, I mounted a paper towel holder on the wall near his car door so he could reach them when necessary. For the kids, I bought baskets that hung on the slatwall for all of their outside toys and sports paraphernalia.
When my project was complete, the neighbors would drool when they saw the inside of our garage. My friend across the street, who also works full time and has two kids, hates me. Her husband is a neat freak and asked her why she couldn't do something like that with THEIR garage. Whoops.
Anyway, I felt such a sense of accomplishment. Everything I needed was within reach. All of the clutter was gone, replaced by necessary items all in their places. Could I be any closer to heaven?
Soon, the euphoria ended. Little by little the garage seemed to have a mind of it's own. The kids would get their bikes and park them near the back of the garage until they used them again. Extra 'stuff' would end up on the floor on either side of the garage like toys, papers, and anything that fell out of the car when the door was opened. Little by little, the space between the two cars, which had been empty not long before, starting accumulating boxes and more stuff so we had to walk carefully around it to get to the car.
Worst of all, I can't find a damned thing.
Where's the extra laundry detergent? Don't know.
Is the bee spray in the cabinet? Nope.
Do we still have a swiffer? No. Can't find it.
Where's the cooler? No idea.
You said there was tons of soda for our party. Where is it? Not in the garage.
The whole organization thing is a scam. If it seems too good to be true, it probably doesn't exist.
I wanted to clean the garage again this fall and get it back to the way it was.
Unfortunately, there's no place to put all of our stuff.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not a slob. Actually, I'm a bit obsessive about organization. The problem is, I have no time to organize anything. When I do, I do such a good job that I still can't find anything.
Last fall I spent weeks painting the inside of my garage. I threw away a LOT of stuff, even duplicates of shovels and rakes, etc. I then bought some nice wall mount cabinets designed specifically for garage storage. It was so exciting! I was able to fit all the dog stuff on one shelf. The bottom cabinets held all of our car stuff. Another held all of our gardening stuff. Extra laundry soap went in another and soda and water went in still another one.
I also bought slatwalls to hold hooks for all of our normal garage stuff. The rakes and shovels had their own hooks. Garden hoses hung on special brackets on the slatwall. Another section held all of our household cleaning implements such as brooms and mops. I even bought bicycle lifts so that our bicycles could be hoisted up towards the ceiling when not in use. My goal was not to have anything actually on the garage floor.
For my husband, I mounted a paper towel holder on the wall near his car door so he could reach them when necessary. For the kids, I bought baskets that hung on the slatwall for all of their outside toys and sports paraphernalia.
When my project was complete, the neighbors would drool when they saw the inside of our garage. My friend across the street, who also works full time and has two kids, hates me. Her husband is a neat freak and asked her why she couldn't do something like that with THEIR garage. Whoops.
Anyway, I felt such a sense of accomplishment. Everything I needed was within reach. All of the clutter was gone, replaced by necessary items all in their places. Could I be any closer to heaven?
Soon, the euphoria ended. Little by little the garage seemed to have a mind of it's own. The kids would get their bikes and park them near the back of the garage until they used them again. Extra 'stuff' would end up on the floor on either side of the garage like toys, papers, and anything that fell out of the car when the door was opened. Little by little, the space between the two cars, which had been empty not long before, starting accumulating boxes and more stuff so we had to walk carefully around it to get to the car.
Worst of all, I can't find a damned thing.
Where's the extra laundry detergent? Don't know.
Is the bee spray in the cabinet? Nope.
Do we still have a swiffer? No. Can't find it.
Where's the cooler? No idea.
You said there was tons of soda for our party. Where is it? Not in the garage.
The whole organization thing is a scam. If it seems too good to be true, it probably doesn't exist.
I wanted to clean the garage again this fall and get it back to the way it was.
Unfortunately, there's no place to put all of our stuff.
Monday, September 17, 2007
Choices
I've repeatedly heard the question posed to children, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" I remember thinking about this when I was a child and I had no idea what I wanted to be. Even up to my junior year of high school I didn't have a clue. I went to my guidance counselor when I was a senior. She asked me what interests or hobbies I had. Since I had been knitting and crocheting since I was a child I told her that these were my favorite hobbies. After some thought, she suggested I pursue the study of textile science at an Ivy League University nearby. Since that seemed to make sense, I chose to go that route.
In order to save money I went to our local community college for two years. Then I transferred to the University. During my first semester I realized that this was not the route I wanted to take. This major involved quite a bit of biochemistry which was not my forte. I then made a choice to change majors.
Eventually, I studied Human/Environment Analysis which involved designing environments for people with different needs such as the elderly or disabled. In the meantime I also studied Industrial and Labor Relations. I felt myself moving into territory that was foreign to me. Most of these students eventually climbed the ladder of success in big cities. It was here that I met someone who had those ambitions and wanted to succeed at any cost.
He was a year behind me and, after I graduated, he urged me to pursue my MBA since, if we were to be married, he wanted his wife to carry a briefcase to work. In my naivete I went ahead and took the Graduate Management Test. Here I was, a simple girl from a simple family whose parents worked within walking distance of our home. I loved my home and friends and I wasn't comfortable with the idea of living in New York City. It was then that my boyfriend told me that he wanted to marry me, but I would have to understand that I would never be #1 in his life; his career would be. That's when I chose to stay in my hometown even if I had to work in a fast food place. It was a choice that, to this day, was one of the wisest I've ever made.
After working in a personnel office for two years I decided that, since I still lived home, I wanted to go back to school and get a degree in Electronic Technology. It was something that always fascinated me and it was the right time to pursue it.
I studied very hard to succeed at it and to forget the earlier years. I never regretted leaving him, but the future was an open book that terrified me.
After graduating with my degree, I landed a job at a copier repair company. The job came with a company car, and my new boss sent another employee to pick me up since I would get my car later that day.
Imagine my surprise when a former schoolmate of mine pulled into my driveway. We had gone to elementary and high school together He lived less than two miles away from me all of my life, but by some divine intervention we met again. We became good friends at the company and talked about people we both knew. My mother was his teacher in fourth grade. I remember his little brother in Kindergarten when my mother taught that grade. Here was someone that was down to earth and had his priorities straight. Our friendship grew, and we have now been married almost 16 years.
It's amazing how choices we've made in the past affect us for the rest of our lives. IF I had pursued Textile Science; IF I had foolishly followed what's-his-name to New York City; IF I hadn't gotten my degree in Electronics; IF I hadn't gotten the job at the copier company. Any misstep would have changed the way my life turned out dramatically.
I know that the life that I have now is the one I wanted from the start. I still live in the same area, I married someone who has the same values as I do, and our children are learning those values from us. I can call my mom anytime I want and visit her often since she only lives 20 minutes away. I have a fantastic job that I love. I've had the chance to move up, but this position works perfectly for me.
I realize now, looking back, that the choices we make in our lives, along with fate, determines the course of the rest of our lives.
I have everything I want.
In order to save money I went to our local community college for two years. Then I transferred to the University. During my first semester I realized that this was not the route I wanted to take. This major involved quite a bit of biochemistry which was not my forte. I then made a choice to change majors.
Eventually, I studied Human/Environment Analysis which involved designing environments for people with different needs such as the elderly or disabled. In the meantime I also studied Industrial and Labor Relations. I felt myself moving into territory that was foreign to me. Most of these students eventually climbed the ladder of success in big cities. It was here that I met someone who had those ambitions and wanted to succeed at any cost.
He was a year behind me and, after I graduated, he urged me to pursue my MBA since, if we were to be married, he wanted his wife to carry a briefcase to work. In my naivete I went ahead and took the Graduate Management Test. Here I was, a simple girl from a simple family whose parents worked within walking distance of our home. I loved my home and friends and I wasn't comfortable with the idea of living in New York City. It was then that my boyfriend told me that he wanted to marry me, but I would have to understand that I would never be #1 in his life; his career would be. That's when I chose to stay in my hometown even if I had to work in a fast food place. It was a choice that, to this day, was one of the wisest I've ever made.
After working in a personnel office for two years I decided that, since I still lived home, I wanted to go back to school and get a degree in Electronic Technology. It was something that always fascinated me and it was the right time to pursue it.
I studied very hard to succeed at it and to forget the earlier years. I never regretted leaving him, but the future was an open book that terrified me.
After graduating with my degree, I landed a job at a copier repair company. The job came with a company car, and my new boss sent another employee to pick me up since I would get my car later that day.
Imagine my surprise when a former schoolmate of mine pulled into my driveway. We had gone to elementary and high school together He lived less than two miles away from me all of my life, but by some divine intervention we met again. We became good friends at the company and talked about people we both knew. My mother was his teacher in fourth grade. I remember his little brother in Kindergarten when my mother taught that grade. Here was someone that was down to earth and had his priorities straight. Our friendship grew, and we have now been married almost 16 years.
It's amazing how choices we've made in the past affect us for the rest of our lives. IF I had pursued Textile Science; IF I had foolishly followed what's-his-name to New York City; IF I hadn't gotten my degree in Electronics; IF I hadn't gotten the job at the copier company. Any misstep would have changed the way my life turned out dramatically.
I know that the life that I have now is the one I wanted from the start. I still live in the same area, I married someone who has the same values as I do, and our children are learning those values from us. I can call my mom anytime I want and visit her often since she only lives 20 minutes away. I have a fantastic job that I love. I've had the chance to move up, but this position works perfectly for me.
I realize now, looking back, that the choices we make in our lives, along with fate, determines the course of the rest of our lives.
I have everything I want.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
All Quiet in the Woods
Last weekend, My mom and I went up to camp. Her goal was to clean our old place. This old cabin has been our home away from home all of my life. It's the place where so many memories have been made. However, as our families have grown, we found it to be quite cramped. There are two tiny bedrooms, a miniscule bathroom, a living room and a kitchen. The walls are all made of knotty pine. When my great aunt owned it, she put up some strange things on the walls. There's a circular picture of a West Highland Terrier on one wall. She never owned a West Highland Terrier. There's the typical 'quitcherbellyakin' wooden sign along with usual plaques with blessings and some with smart a** remarks In the living room above the window, there is a red pig walking along with her three small red baby piglets. The strangest thing, however, is the stuffed owl on a corner shelf in the room. That thing has been staring at me all my life. As a child I would get the creeps from it, but we've made peace through the years.
As a result of the small quarters, we have built a new place next door on our vacant lot. It's on the water and will have a lot more room. It's still not finished but my goal last weekend was to finish painting the bedrooms.
I left the children and hubby home since my daughter had to cheerlead for a game and my son had a football game. On Friday night when I left I was so homesick for all of them. I have rarely left them and believed that I would get a lot done without having to worry about playing with them or taking them somewhere. I got what I wanted.
I did not like it.
I have to admit, however, that it was nice to work without interruptions. Having my mom make dinner didn't hurt either. After a few hours on Saturday I was able to enjoy the peace a little more.
There were many reminders of our times together with the kids this summer. In the sand under the deck of the new place there were rocks and plastic still laying there. It is all that remained of the moat and castle they had built. Looking into the lean-to I saw the badminton rackets and birdies that they had left there, remembering the times we got frustrated when the wind would carry the birdies away.
Inside the camp were some of their board games they had played and laughed over on those summer days and evenings. And let's not forgot the small sock my mother found under my bed that belonged to my daughter showing that she's not very neat at camp either.
On Saturday evening I decided to take a break from my painting since I was getting tired and hot. I didn't feel like swimming, so I took off my socks and sneakers and dunked my feet in the lake. Only a week earlier we were jumping off the dock to rinse our hair that was covered in shampoo suds. I remembered the kids playing in the water in the evening as my husband made a fire for s'mores on the shore. The horn on the large dinner cruise boat would honk as it went on it's way.
I think what made me smile the most was when I looked at my bare feet. There was still a little bit of glittery gold nail polish on some of my toes reminding me of the time my daughter and I painted each other's toes in the crowded kitchen.
Even though my husband and kids were not there, I was content just looking around at the evidence of their presence. I know that, soon, we'll all be there together again to make new memories.
As a result of the small quarters, we have built a new place next door on our vacant lot. It's on the water and will have a lot more room. It's still not finished but my goal last weekend was to finish painting the bedrooms.
I left the children and hubby home since my daughter had to cheerlead for a game and my son had a football game. On Friday night when I left I was so homesick for all of them. I have rarely left them and believed that I would get a lot done without having to worry about playing with them or taking them somewhere. I got what I wanted.
I did not like it.
I have to admit, however, that it was nice to work without interruptions. Having my mom make dinner didn't hurt either. After a few hours on Saturday I was able to enjoy the peace a little more.
There were many reminders of our times together with the kids this summer. In the sand under the deck of the new place there were rocks and plastic still laying there. It is all that remained of the moat and castle they had built. Looking into the lean-to I saw the badminton rackets and birdies that they had left there, remembering the times we got frustrated when the wind would carry the birdies away.
Inside the camp were some of their board games they had played and laughed over on those summer days and evenings. And let's not forgot the small sock my mother found under my bed that belonged to my daughter showing that she's not very neat at camp either.
On Saturday evening I decided to take a break from my painting since I was getting tired and hot. I didn't feel like swimming, so I took off my socks and sneakers and dunked my feet in the lake. Only a week earlier we were jumping off the dock to rinse our hair that was covered in shampoo suds. I remembered the kids playing in the water in the evening as my husband made a fire for s'mores on the shore. The horn on the large dinner cruise boat would honk as it went on it's way.
I think what made me smile the most was when I looked at my bare feet. There was still a little bit of glittery gold nail polish on some of my toes reminding me of the time my daughter and I painted each other's toes in the crowded kitchen.
Even though my husband and kids were not there, I was content just looking around at the evidence of their presence. I know that, soon, we'll all be there together again to make new memories.
Thursday, September 6, 2007
Fashion challenged
As I wrote earlier, yesterday was the first day of school for my kids. My son doesn't understand the 'first day of school outfit' thing. He just wore basketball shorts and a T-shirt. That was easy enough.
I had bought my daughter a really nice outfit for her first day. The pants were the new knicker style (like capris, only with a band at the bottom). They were a pretty aqua color. For a top, I had bought a gauzy white shirt with aqua and green stars. Of course, it was sparkly too, a requisite for any 7 year old girl's wardrobe.
When I showed her the outfit last week, she loved the top. The pants were another story.
"No offense, Mom," she said, "but I already have a pair of pants that have stars on them too".
"I'm sure you do," I replied, "but those are red and pink. I think the aqua pants will work better since they match the aqua stars on the top".
She pondered my words.
"OK," she said, "I'll wear this today, but I'm using the other pants later".
Mom 1
Daughter 0
I tried not to flinch when she pulled on white knee socks with red flowers that she rolled down to her ankles. I've learned to pick my battles.
Today I figured I'd let her pick her own outfit. "Be afraid", a little voice inside my head warned me.
My fears were justified. She came down the stairs proud as can be. She wore a hot pink skort (skirt shorts) and a peach and brown colored top with a monkey on it that said 'My Brother Drives Me Bananas'.
"Let's go upstairs and brush your teeth!", I said cheerfully, hoping to find a top that matched a little better. As she was brushing her teeth, I went in her room and picked out a light pink top with hot pink flowers.
"Hey, honey," I said excitedly, "How about this top instead? The flowers in it match the skort really well!"
"Mom," she said, pointing to the monkey shirt, "this top matches just fine. See? It's kind of pink too! I'll wear that another time".
"OK", I said, knowing that I had lost that battle.
Downstairs, I asked her to pick out a hair ribbon since I knew she wouldn't like the one I would pick. She picked out a lovely purple and white striped one that I put on her ponytail. After that, she picked out an orange headband and put that on too.
To top it all off, she put on pink knee socks that she rolled down to her ankles again, and her brown and pink sneakers. I'm sure that her teacher will think she is a new last minute student that is color challenged. Gone was the girl with the cute aqua knickers, sparkly shirt and aqua hair bow.
This is all nothing new. Last year she did the same thing. The only rule I have is that she can't wear anything that is too grown up for her. These days the stores are selling clothes for little girls that are duplicates of the clothes for teenagers. So far, I am winning on that rule.
Who know? Maybe someday people will come to realize that mismatched clothes are all the rage and my daughter will be a millionaire...
...but I doubt it.
I had bought my daughter a really nice outfit for her first day. The pants were the new knicker style (like capris, only with a band at the bottom). They were a pretty aqua color. For a top, I had bought a gauzy white shirt with aqua and green stars. Of course, it was sparkly too, a requisite for any 7 year old girl's wardrobe.
When I showed her the outfit last week, she loved the top. The pants were another story.
"No offense, Mom," she said, "but I already have a pair of pants that have stars on them too".
"I'm sure you do," I replied, "but those are red and pink. I think the aqua pants will work better since they match the aqua stars on the top".
She pondered my words.
"OK," she said, "I'll wear this today, but I'm using the other pants later".
Mom 1
Daughter 0
I tried not to flinch when she pulled on white knee socks with red flowers that she rolled down to her ankles. I've learned to pick my battles.
Today I figured I'd let her pick her own outfit. "Be afraid", a little voice inside my head warned me.
My fears were justified. She came down the stairs proud as can be. She wore a hot pink skort (skirt shorts) and a peach and brown colored top with a monkey on it that said 'My Brother Drives Me Bananas'.
"Let's go upstairs and brush your teeth!", I said cheerfully, hoping to find a top that matched a little better. As she was brushing her teeth, I went in her room and picked out a light pink top with hot pink flowers.
"Hey, honey," I said excitedly, "How about this top instead? The flowers in it match the skort really well!"
"Mom," she said, pointing to the monkey shirt, "this top matches just fine. See? It's kind of pink too! I'll wear that another time".
"OK", I said, knowing that I had lost that battle.
Downstairs, I asked her to pick out a hair ribbon since I knew she wouldn't like the one I would pick. She picked out a lovely purple and white striped one that I put on her ponytail. After that, she picked out an orange headband and put that on too.
To top it all off, she put on pink knee socks that she rolled down to her ankles again, and her brown and pink sneakers. I'm sure that her teacher will think she is a new last minute student that is color challenged. Gone was the girl with the cute aqua knickers, sparkly shirt and aqua hair bow.
This is all nothing new. Last year she did the same thing. The only rule I have is that she can't wear anything that is too grown up for her. These days the stores are selling clothes for little girls that are duplicates of the clothes for teenagers. So far, I am winning on that rule.
Who know? Maybe someday people will come to realize that mismatched clothes are all the rage and my daughter will be a millionaire...
...but I doubt it.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
Back to School
Here it is. The first day of school again for my kids. Son is in 5th grade and daughter is in 2nd. Hard to believe. I've been thinking of years past and remembered what happened on the last day of 2nd grade for my son. As a mother we all wonder if we're doing a good job with the kids. Do we overreact? Do we underreact? Many times, I've won the 'Mother of the Year' award when I do something stupid. This was one of those times.
A week before school was out, son hurt his leg playing at aftercare. He came home and complained about the pain. I believed him, and told him he couldn’t go to Karate that night. He stayed on the couch for the rest of the evening.
A week later on the last day of aftercare, I picked him up. “Mom,” he said, “I hurt my finger a few minutes ago playing ball. It really hurts!”
Me: (to myself: Yeah, right! That got you out of Karate last week. It won’t work again!)
We got home, and son told hubby the same thing. “Let me look at it”, hubby said. Son showed him his finger. Hubby bent it, making son exclaim, “OW!!! That hurts!
Me: (Oh, please! Dad’s not going to buy into that!)
Dad: Where are the popsicle sticks? We’ll make a splint.
Hubby proceeded to make a splint with popsicle sticks. As he tried to tape it to son's finger, he exclaimed, “OWWW!!! That really hurts!!
Me: (OK. You’re a great actor! I can’t believe Dad’s humoring you!)
Soon after, I had to go somewhere for a while (I don’t remember where). When I got home, hubby said “I’m taking son to Prompt Care to have them check it.”
“OK!” I said cheerfully, “ I’ll see you later!”
What I really wanted to say: OK! I hope the patient with the leg broken in three places doesn’t mind waiting for the doctor to tell you it’s just a little sprain!
I smugly went about my business.
Several hours later, I was watching TV in bed. Hubby and son came into the room.
“What did the doctor say?” I asked, knowing what they would say.
“Well,” hubby said, “Son has a broken pinky”
Silence.
Me: “Oh.”
Otherwise, I am speechless.
Great. If hubby hadn’t intervened, my poor son would be walking around with a crooked pinky for the rest of his life. Once again, my instinctive mothering abilities were WRONG!
I guess parenting is a learning experience. I don't care what anyone says. There is no such thing as maternal instinct. I think, sometimes, that hubby has more maternal instinct than me (yes; I said 'maternal'). He probably won't appreciate me saying that, but thanks to him, our children will be saved from a crazy mother's 'instinctive' parenting.
A week before school was out, son hurt his leg playing at aftercare. He came home and complained about the pain. I believed him, and told him he couldn’t go to Karate that night. He stayed on the couch for the rest of the evening.
A week later on the last day of aftercare, I picked him up. “Mom,” he said, “I hurt my finger a few minutes ago playing ball. It really hurts!”
Me: (to myself: Yeah, right! That got you out of Karate last week. It won’t work again!)
We got home, and son told hubby the same thing. “Let me look at it”, hubby said. Son showed him his finger. Hubby bent it, making son exclaim, “OW!!! That hurts!
Me: (Oh, please! Dad’s not going to buy into that!)
Dad: Where are the popsicle sticks? We’ll make a splint.
Hubby proceeded to make a splint with popsicle sticks. As he tried to tape it to son's finger, he exclaimed, “OWWW!!! That really hurts!!
Me: (OK. You’re a great actor! I can’t believe Dad’s humoring you!)
Soon after, I had to go somewhere for a while (I don’t remember where). When I got home, hubby said “I’m taking son to Prompt Care to have them check it.”
“OK!” I said cheerfully, “ I’ll see you later!”
What I really wanted to say: OK! I hope the patient with the leg broken in three places doesn’t mind waiting for the doctor to tell you it’s just a little sprain!
I smugly went about my business.
Several hours later, I was watching TV in bed. Hubby and son came into the room.
“What did the doctor say?” I asked, knowing what they would say.
“Well,” hubby said, “Son has a broken pinky”
Silence.
Me: “Oh.”
Otherwise, I am speechless.
Great. If hubby hadn’t intervened, my poor son would be walking around with a crooked pinky for the rest of his life. Once again, my instinctive mothering abilities were WRONG!
I guess parenting is a learning experience. I don't care what anyone says. There is no such thing as maternal instinct. I think, sometimes, that hubby has more maternal instinct than me (yes; I said 'maternal'). He probably won't appreciate me saying that, but thanks to him, our children will be saved from a crazy mother's 'instinctive' parenting.
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Bye, Fishy Fishy
Albert died today.
By fish standards, he was an old man (or woman, who knows). We bought him about two years ago along with ‘Crystal’. They lived happily together for only a short while. Unfortunately, Crystal died a few weeks later. My daughter was distraught since Crystal was really her fish. So we went to the pet store and bought ‘Crystal 2’.
It wasn’t meant to be. Shortly after, Crystal 2 also died. I don’t think Albert was fond of company. He thrived alone month after month.
It was getting quite annoying cleaning the tank every few weeks. I would have to take everything out and scrub it well. Albert would vacation in a large pretzel jar during the housecleaning. After a while, we realized that a five gallon tank was a little over the top for one fish. I then decided to downsize and get a one gallon tank. That was last winter.
Albert seemed quite content in his little condo. We were able to put him on our desk instead of the large metal stand. We could look at him when we sat at the desk, and he could look back. Actually, he couldn’t see us, but we liked to pretend that he could.
Several months ago, he began acting differently. His body seemed to curl funny, and he would float to the top. The kids got very upset thinking that Albert was going to meet the same fate as Crystal and Crystal 2. Hubby and I went to bed knowing that we would have to break the news to the kids the next day of Albert’s demise.
The next morning, I went downstairs fully expecting to see his curled little body floating on top of the water, his eyes expressionless. Instead, I saw him happily swimming along as if nothing had happened. He had defied the odds.
This happened several times over the next few months. No sooner would we call him a goner, and he would act like nothing happened. I think he took great pleasure fooling us that way.
It reminded me of several years ago when my uncle was quite ill. He had been in and out of the hospital for a long time. Each time he went in, my mom would say, “I don’t think he’ll be coming out this time”. We just knew the end was near.
One day, my sister and I came home after work. My mom came up to us and said, “Uncle Stevie’s gone”.
We stood there in disbelief. We had never thought it would really happen. Tears started forming in our eyes.
“When did he go?” we asked.
He just left here to go home a few minutes ago.
Albert had become the new Uncle Stevie.
Yesterday, Albert started his contortions again. His fins would move, but he was still curled up and sideways. We had the bubbler going on the tank and his little orange body would get tossed around by the water. I unplugged the bubbler to prevent any further humiliation. Then he would slowly float to the top, move his fins a little bit in midair and sink. Suddenly there would be no movement.
“Mom, is Albert dead?”
“I don’t know guys”, I said carefully. “Let me see”.
I looked carefully at Albert. His body was curled and his fins were still. Upon closer inspection, I could see his gills moving.
“No,” I replied, “He’s still breathing”.
Now you could see why we called Albert ‘the fish that would not die’.
I checked him all evening. I would see a fin occasionally move, or a gill open and shut. Finally I went to bed knowing that in the morning I’d have to break some bad news to the kids.
This morning, I came downstairs to find Albert still alive. He was swimming sideways between resting. He would then become still for a while only to show signs of life later.
At noon, I came home after taking my son to the dentist. Looking at Albert, I could tell that he was still breathing. He wasn’t giving in very easily. I knew we were in for another of round of ‘Albert’s dying”.
Later this afternoon, I came home from work. My children greeted me at the door.
“Albert’s dead”, my daughter told me.
Yeah, right!, I thought.
Looking at the tank, I found no signs of Albert. “Where is he?” , I asked.
“Daddy buried him in the front garden already.”
I couldn’t believe it. Albert, the ‘fish that would not die’, actually did. It defied all logic. I thought he was going to be in that tank for years, just taunting me by staying alive. However, the tank was really empty. The kids went about their business when my husband came into the house.
“ I can’t believe Albert finally died!” I said to him, “I was here at noon and he was still breathing. Did you check to see if his gills were moving?” I asked.
Hubby ‘s cereal spoon suddenly stopped in midair. He looked at me and paused.
“If they were, they aren’t anymore”.
Can you say ‘Fish Murderer’?
By fish standards, he was an old man (or woman, who knows). We bought him about two years ago along with ‘Crystal’. They lived happily together for only a short while. Unfortunately, Crystal died a few weeks later. My daughter was distraught since Crystal was really her fish. So we went to the pet store and bought ‘Crystal 2’.
It wasn’t meant to be. Shortly after, Crystal 2 also died. I don’t think Albert was fond of company. He thrived alone month after month.
It was getting quite annoying cleaning the tank every few weeks. I would have to take everything out and scrub it well. Albert would vacation in a large pretzel jar during the housecleaning. After a while, we realized that a five gallon tank was a little over the top for one fish. I then decided to downsize and get a one gallon tank. That was last winter.
Albert seemed quite content in his little condo. We were able to put him on our desk instead of the large metal stand. We could look at him when we sat at the desk, and he could look back. Actually, he couldn’t see us, but we liked to pretend that he could.
Several months ago, he began acting differently. His body seemed to curl funny, and he would float to the top. The kids got very upset thinking that Albert was going to meet the same fate as Crystal and Crystal 2. Hubby and I went to bed knowing that we would have to break the news to the kids the next day of Albert’s demise.
The next morning, I went downstairs fully expecting to see his curled little body floating on top of the water, his eyes expressionless. Instead, I saw him happily swimming along as if nothing had happened. He had defied the odds.
This happened several times over the next few months. No sooner would we call him a goner, and he would act like nothing happened. I think he took great pleasure fooling us that way.
It reminded me of several years ago when my uncle was quite ill. He had been in and out of the hospital for a long time. Each time he went in, my mom would say, “I don’t think he’ll be coming out this time”. We just knew the end was near.
One day, my sister and I came home after work. My mom came up to us and said, “Uncle Stevie’s gone”.
We stood there in disbelief. We had never thought it would really happen. Tears started forming in our eyes.
“When did he go?” we asked.
He just left here to go home a few minutes ago.
Albert had become the new Uncle Stevie.
Yesterday, Albert started his contortions again. His fins would move, but he was still curled up and sideways. We had the bubbler going on the tank and his little orange body would get tossed around by the water. I unplugged the bubbler to prevent any further humiliation. Then he would slowly float to the top, move his fins a little bit in midair and sink. Suddenly there would be no movement.
“Mom, is Albert dead?”
“I don’t know guys”, I said carefully. “Let me see”.
I looked carefully at Albert. His body was curled and his fins were still. Upon closer inspection, I could see his gills moving.
“No,” I replied, “He’s still breathing”.
Now you could see why we called Albert ‘the fish that would not die’.
I checked him all evening. I would see a fin occasionally move, or a gill open and shut. Finally I went to bed knowing that in the morning I’d have to break some bad news to the kids.
This morning, I came downstairs to find Albert still alive. He was swimming sideways between resting. He would then become still for a while only to show signs of life later.
At noon, I came home after taking my son to the dentist. Looking at Albert, I could tell that he was still breathing. He wasn’t giving in very easily. I knew we were in for another of round of ‘Albert’s dying”.
Later this afternoon, I came home from work. My children greeted me at the door.
“Albert’s dead”, my daughter told me.
Yeah, right!, I thought.
Looking at the tank, I found no signs of Albert. “Where is he?” , I asked.
“Daddy buried him in the front garden already.”
I couldn’t believe it. Albert, the ‘fish that would not die’, actually did. It defied all logic. I thought he was going to be in that tank for years, just taunting me by staying alive. However, the tank was really empty. The kids went about their business when my husband came into the house.
“ I can’t believe Albert finally died!” I said to him, “I was here at noon and he was still breathing. Did you check to see if his gills were moving?” I asked.
Hubby ‘s cereal spoon suddenly stopped in midair. He looked at me and paused.
“If they were, they aren’t anymore”.
Can you say ‘Fish Murderer’?
Monday, August 27, 2007
I Did Something Really Stupid....
I did something really stupid the other day.
Hubby was at his uncle's to fix his roof and daughter was at a friend’s house. Son was on the computer when the front doorbell rang. I opened it. There was a man standing there with an SUV parked on the street.
“Hi!,” he said. “I help design and furnish Ryan Model Homes. I have a lot of extra pictures in my truck that I’m trying to get rid of and wondered if you’d be interested.”
(Wow!! I can’t believe it! Free pictures! How can I pass that up? There is a god and he loves me.)
“OK,” I said excitedly, “I’ll be right out!”
Walking down the driveway, I said, “You aren’t going to kidnap me; are you?” (Ha, ha!)
“No,” he said, “I don’t think my girlfriend would let me!” (Ha, ha!)
He opened the back of the SUV. In the back was a large row of pictures standing on their sides. I started flipping through them and pulling some out, although they were not exactly my taste. I thought that perhaps I could use them for presents later. Next he let me look in the back seat where I found a few more.
“I’ll pull the ones out you like and you can choose.”
His next words put a chill up and down my spine.
“The large ones are only $65 and the small ones are $45. You’re really only paying for the print.”
In the next few seconds, my mind worked in turbo mode. I don’t really like these, I thought. They are so totally not my style. But I must be a whacko to think they would be free. How embarrassing! Now what do I do? Should I let him know that I’m an idiot and walk away? Or should I just buy one or two and act like I knew it all the time?
“Hmmm,” I said flipping through my original choices. “I know my sister would just LOVE this one. It would be a great present!” (I already got her a present months ago, but, again, EMBARASSMENT.) I kept flipping through. “I know my husband would just LOVE this Monet! Hmmm… OK, I’ll take those two!”
I smiled warmly at him after my decisions were made. “We take cash, credit cards or checks”.
“Alright”, I said, “I’ll go get my checkbook”. For some reason, I felt safer with a check instead of giving him my credit card. There were a few brain cells left after all.
I went in the house and got my checkbook. The man told me that the total was $119.20. I wrote the check and handed it to him, smiling all the time.
“Do you need help bringing these inside?” he asked.
“Oh no,” I replied cheerfully, “I can do it!”
“OK,” he said, handing me a business card. “The pictures have a lifetime warranty.”
“That’s great. Thanks so much!”
“Thank YOU!” he said and got into the SUV.
I walked into the garage with my treasures and went in the house. I carefully leaned them against the wall and admired them. They were certainly lovely, but…
What the hell?!!!! I don’t like these! What was I thinking? I am SUCH and idiot!! Now what do I do? Calm down. No one else saw what a fool I was. I’ll just explain things to hubby when he gets home. He’ll understand. Maybe I can figure out how to take them back, or maybe I’ll keep them since they are lovely…WAIT A MINUTE!! I hate them. I have to stop rationalizing this. I guess the worst case scenario is that I give the one picture to sister for her birthday, knowing full well she won’t really want it, and I’ll put the Monet in the ….well, maybe I’ll just store it for now since I really HATE IT!!!
For the rest of the afternoon, I conveniently forgot about the whole thing. I set about picking up the house. I remember I made something for dinner, if you consider putting frozen prepared chicken patty product and potato product in the oven for 15 minutes. We all sat at the dinner table and ate the delicious dinner I had prepared so carefully. When the children were done, they asked to be excused and we let them. We were left alone with only the silence between us.
“Hubby?” I said cautiously, “I did something really stupid today.”
I know how people constantly overuse the term ‘deer in the headlight’ looks. I can’t really say that was the look he gave me. I think it was more of a ‘I hope what she did does not cause permanent damage to my brain’ kind of look. His eyes were wide, but I saw a hint of curiosity in them.
“What did you do?” he said staring intently into my eyes.
“Well, the doorbell rang this afternoon”. I then told him my tale of idiocy. When I came to the part about the costs of the small and large pictures, he stopped and said, “don’t tell me you bought all of them.”
“Oh no!” I laughed, “I only bought two!”
“Why did you do that?” he said, trying to understand my explanation, his face contorted in pain.
“I didn’t want him to think I was an idiot”, I said. “What kind of lunatic would think they were free?”
He carefully hid his answer by not moving a muscle in his face. There were a few moments of silence following. I could tell he was trying very hard not to say what he was really feeling, but I know that inside he was not happy.
“Do you know who this guy was?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said, “he gave me his business card.”
After a few more stressful moments, he said, “I’ll call him and get our money back.”
I remember repeating over and over, “I’m sorry! I’m such a loser!” Wisely, he didn’t reply.
Later that evening he told me he was going to call the number on the card. “I’m just going to say to him, ‘…I finally got her out of the asylum, and the moment I leave to get her meds, this happens.’”
Very funny.
Anyway as it turns out, he left a message, I stopped payment on the check, and he called hubby back. This man promised to come by in the evening to pick up the pictures and refund our money, since he had already cashed the check.
When it came to the time that he was supposed to arrive, I was conveniently upstairs on the computer. He and hubby had a civil conversation, with a few laughs. I never did ask what they were talking about, but I’m sure he had some pity for the man whose wife was only steps away from returning to the asylum.
Hubby was at his uncle's to fix his roof and daughter was at a friend’s house. Son was on the computer when the front doorbell rang. I opened it. There was a man standing there with an SUV parked on the street.
“Hi!,” he said. “I help design and furnish Ryan Model Homes. I have a lot of extra pictures in my truck that I’m trying to get rid of and wondered if you’d be interested.”
(Wow!! I can’t believe it! Free pictures! How can I pass that up? There is a god and he loves me.)
“OK,” I said excitedly, “I’ll be right out!”
Walking down the driveway, I said, “You aren’t going to kidnap me; are you?” (Ha, ha!)
“No,” he said, “I don’t think my girlfriend would let me!” (Ha, ha!)
He opened the back of the SUV. In the back was a large row of pictures standing on their sides. I started flipping through them and pulling some out, although they were not exactly my taste. I thought that perhaps I could use them for presents later. Next he let me look in the back seat where I found a few more.
“I’ll pull the ones out you like and you can choose.”
His next words put a chill up and down my spine.
“The large ones are only $65 and the small ones are $45. You’re really only paying for the print.”
In the next few seconds, my mind worked in turbo mode. I don’t really like these, I thought. They are so totally not my style. But I must be a whacko to think they would be free. How embarrassing! Now what do I do? Should I let him know that I’m an idiot and walk away? Or should I just buy one or two and act like I knew it all the time?
“Hmmm,” I said flipping through my original choices. “I know my sister would just LOVE this one. It would be a great present!” (I already got her a present months ago, but, again, EMBARASSMENT.) I kept flipping through. “I know my husband would just LOVE this Monet! Hmmm… OK, I’ll take those two!”
I smiled warmly at him after my decisions were made. “We take cash, credit cards or checks”.
“Alright”, I said, “I’ll go get my checkbook”. For some reason, I felt safer with a check instead of giving him my credit card. There were a few brain cells left after all.
I went in the house and got my checkbook. The man told me that the total was $119.20. I wrote the check and handed it to him, smiling all the time.
“Do you need help bringing these inside?” he asked.
“Oh no,” I replied cheerfully, “I can do it!”
“OK,” he said, handing me a business card. “The pictures have a lifetime warranty.”
“That’s great. Thanks so much!”
“Thank YOU!” he said and got into the SUV.
I walked into the garage with my treasures and went in the house. I carefully leaned them against the wall and admired them. They were certainly lovely, but…
What the hell?!!!! I don’t like these! What was I thinking? I am SUCH and idiot!! Now what do I do? Calm down. No one else saw what a fool I was. I’ll just explain things to hubby when he gets home. He’ll understand. Maybe I can figure out how to take them back, or maybe I’ll keep them since they are lovely…WAIT A MINUTE!! I hate them. I have to stop rationalizing this. I guess the worst case scenario is that I give the one picture to sister for her birthday, knowing full well she won’t really want it, and I’ll put the Monet in the ….well, maybe I’ll just store it for now since I really HATE IT!!!
For the rest of the afternoon, I conveniently forgot about the whole thing. I set about picking up the house. I remember I made something for dinner, if you consider putting frozen prepared chicken patty product and potato product in the oven for 15 minutes. We all sat at the dinner table and ate the delicious dinner I had prepared so carefully. When the children were done, they asked to be excused and we let them. We were left alone with only the silence between us.
“Hubby?” I said cautiously, “I did something really stupid today.”
I know how people constantly overuse the term ‘deer in the headlight’ looks. I can’t really say that was the look he gave me. I think it was more of a ‘I hope what she did does not cause permanent damage to my brain’ kind of look. His eyes were wide, but I saw a hint of curiosity in them.
“What did you do?” he said staring intently into my eyes.
“Well, the doorbell rang this afternoon”. I then told him my tale of idiocy. When I came to the part about the costs of the small and large pictures, he stopped and said, “don’t tell me you bought all of them.”
“Oh no!” I laughed, “I only bought two!”
“Why did you do that?” he said, trying to understand my explanation, his face contorted in pain.
“I didn’t want him to think I was an idiot”, I said. “What kind of lunatic would think they were free?”
He carefully hid his answer by not moving a muscle in his face. There were a few moments of silence following. I could tell he was trying very hard not to say what he was really feeling, but I know that inside he was not happy.
“Do you know who this guy was?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said, “he gave me his business card.”
After a few more stressful moments, he said, “I’ll call him and get our money back.”
I remember repeating over and over, “I’m sorry! I’m such a loser!” Wisely, he didn’t reply.
Later that evening he told me he was going to call the number on the card. “I’m just going to say to him, ‘…I finally got her out of the asylum, and the moment I leave to get her meds, this happens.’”
Very funny.
Anyway as it turns out, he left a message, I stopped payment on the check, and he called hubby back. This man promised to come by in the evening to pick up the pictures and refund our money, since he had already cashed the check.
When it came to the time that he was supposed to arrive, I was conveniently upstairs on the computer. He and hubby had a civil conversation, with a few laughs. I never did ask what they were talking about, but I’m sure he had some pity for the man whose wife was only steps away from returning to the asylum.
Friday, August 24, 2007
Up in the Woods
Last weekend, my husband went up to our camp in the Adirondacks with our children. I had to work on a Saturday since my replacement person had to go on college visits with her son. They were so excited! Our camp is really not a 'camp'. We've been teased through the years by those who expect no running water and an outhouse. Actually, it was built in the 1940's by my Great Aunt and Uncle. Back then, waterfront land in the Adirondacks was not expensive since it was still a challenge to get there. They built this small cottage for themselves and for my Great Uncle's mother. They would go on the weekends, and his mother would stay all summer. Since they had no children, and my mother was an only child, she would go up there occasionally, but when my Great Uncle died and my mother was married, my parents would not only go up to enjoy it but also to maintain the place.
As a child I believed it was a magical place with all the woods around us and the beautiful lake right out front. My memories are so clear, and I lived for the weekends when we would pack up and go up there.
Looking back, I forget all of the difficult times. My father was suffering from a mental illness and was self-medicating with alcohol. Back then, doctors would prescribe Valium to calm him down, but it was before more research was done. Now, there are drugs on the market which help balance the chemicals in the body in order to comfortably live with the illness. But back then, we just lived with it, knowing we didn't have a choice and I relished the moments when he acted 'normal'.
When my husband and I started dating, he would comfortably tease my Dad. Hubby became one my Dad's favorite people. After we had dated awhile, we would invite him up to camp.
Little did I know that my then-boyfriend hated every minute of it. He would go up and try to help my Dad with the work. My Dad made every chore a nightmare. Dad would have us rake up pine needles in the yard so no one would slip. He would have hubby move piles of dirt from one place to another. Once, when my former brother-in-law was up there helping, he took hubby aside and said, "Welcome to camp Dachau".
In the meantime, after I helped work in the yard, my mother and I would spend time together and have a great time. Hubby never complained, but I couldn't figure out why he never wanted to go up there.
It was only after my father died, he told me why. Now it seems so obvious. No wonder he hated it!
My parents had bought/inherited the place and now hubby and I take care of it. Our children have grown up there, but times have changed. When I was little, my sister and my cousin and I could walk to the playground and then to town to buy candy. We would sit on the big rock next to the main road and wave to the cars going by. No one objected when we walked through their yards near the lake to get to the little gift shop nearby.
Today, we wouldn't dream of letting our children walk to town alone. The little gift shop is now a dreary little house. The kids, at first, complained that there was 'nothing to do'. As they've grown up, they have found a lot to do just around the property. They build sand villages in the sand pit in front of our new place. They have built a fort up in the woods behind our place. They are in the water quite a bit, jumping in over and over. We'll take our pontoon boat to a bay farther down the lake where the water is shallow. They'll catch minnows and float around in their plastic blow up toys.
Everytime I go there, I feel myself relax with each passing mile. Up there, there is no concept of time. Bedtime is non-existant, and we can sleep as long as we want in the morning. We are so fortunate!
Anyway, as for last weekend... I had a weekend where I could clean my kid's rooms and do chores around the house that had been ignored due to our busy schedules. I called up there one night, only to find that I had interrupted an intense card game. Hearing their laughter over the phone made me so happy. They were truly enjoying themselves!
My memories of the mountains are bittersweet, but I sincerely hope that theirs contain nothing but good times.
As a child I believed it was a magical place with all the woods around us and the beautiful lake right out front. My memories are so clear, and I lived for the weekends when we would pack up and go up there.
Looking back, I forget all of the difficult times. My father was suffering from a mental illness and was self-medicating with alcohol. Back then, doctors would prescribe Valium to calm him down, but it was before more research was done. Now, there are drugs on the market which help balance the chemicals in the body in order to comfortably live with the illness. But back then, we just lived with it, knowing we didn't have a choice and I relished the moments when he acted 'normal'.
When my husband and I started dating, he would comfortably tease my Dad. Hubby became one my Dad's favorite people. After we had dated awhile, we would invite him up to camp.
Little did I know that my then-boyfriend hated every minute of it. He would go up and try to help my Dad with the work. My Dad made every chore a nightmare. Dad would have us rake up pine needles in the yard so no one would slip. He would have hubby move piles of dirt from one place to another. Once, when my former brother-in-law was up there helping, he took hubby aside and said, "Welcome to camp Dachau".
In the meantime, after I helped work in the yard, my mother and I would spend time together and have a great time. Hubby never complained, but I couldn't figure out why he never wanted to go up there.
It was only after my father died, he told me why. Now it seems so obvious. No wonder he hated it!
My parents had bought/inherited the place and now hubby and I take care of it. Our children have grown up there, but times have changed. When I was little, my sister and my cousin and I could walk to the playground and then to town to buy candy. We would sit on the big rock next to the main road and wave to the cars going by. No one objected when we walked through their yards near the lake to get to the little gift shop nearby.
Today, we wouldn't dream of letting our children walk to town alone. The little gift shop is now a dreary little house. The kids, at first, complained that there was 'nothing to do'. As they've grown up, they have found a lot to do just around the property. They build sand villages in the sand pit in front of our new place. They have built a fort up in the woods behind our place. They are in the water quite a bit, jumping in over and over. We'll take our pontoon boat to a bay farther down the lake where the water is shallow. They'll catch minnows and float around in their plastic blow up toys.
Everytime I go there, I feel myself relax with each passing mile. Up there, there is no concept of time. Bedtime is non-existant, and we can sleep as long as we want in the morning. We are so fortunate!
Anyway, as for last weekend... I had a weekend where I could clean my kid's rooms and do chores around the house that had been ignored due to our busy schedules. I called up there one night, only to find that I had interrupted an intense card game. Hearing their laughter over the phone made me so happy. They were truly enjoying themselves!
My memories of the mountains are bittersweet, but I sincerely hope that theirs contain nothing but good times.
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Clean babies
I remember when our son was born ten years ago. My husband and I had been married when we were 30. We had a great time over the next few years. As I was approaching my 35th birthday, we decided that we were ready for a new addition to the family.
Our son was born the next year. Everyone said that we would know what to do by instinct. That's a bunch of crap. There we were staring at our newborn, not knowing what to do next. We got pretty good at feeding and changing him. However, bathing him was another story.
It's true when people say that a wet baby is slippery. Both of us gave him his first bath. I don't know if there's an easier way to do it, but one of us held him while the other bathed him. At the time we were both terrified that he would slip out of our hands and fall into the 1 inch of water in his bathtub.
It honestly didn't get any easier. He would wiggle out of our hands, but as time went on we realized that it wasn't the end of the world. In fact, he would love it and wiggle even more.
But time flies by...
Last night, before my son went to bed, he asked me to wake him up early so he could take a shower. I did wake him up early, but I fought the urge to get his clothes and towel ready. Instead, I went downstairs to get ready for the day.
As I was working, I heard the water go on. Soon after, he came down the stairs all dressed and clean. "How do I smell?", he asked, lifting his arms.
"You smell nice, just like Dad".
He gave me a grin, very proud of the fact that he used Dad's body wash, and his own deoderant.
I was so proud. But at the same time, I couldn't help but remember the slippery little baby that we washed so many years ago.
It seems just like yesterday....
Our son was born the next year. Everyone said that we would know what to do by instinct. That's a bunch of crap. There we were staring at our newborn, not knowing what to do next. We got pretty good at feeding and changing him. However, bathing him was another story.
It's true when people say that a wet baby is slippery. Both of us gave him his first bath. I don't know if there's an easier way to do it, but one of us held him while the other bathed him. At the time we were both terrified that he would slip out of our hands and fall into the 1 inch of water in his bathtub.
It honestly didn't get any easier. He would wiggle out of our hands, but as time went on we realized that it wasn't the end of the world. In fact, he would love it and wiggle even more.
But time flies by...
Last night, before my son went to bed, he asked me to wake him up early so he could take a shower. I did wake him up early, but I fought the urge to get his clothes and towel ready. Instead, I went downstairs to get ready for the day.
As I was working, I heard the water go on. Soon after, he came down the stairs all dressed and clean. "How do I smell?", he asked, lifting his arms.
"You smell nice, just like Dad".
He gave me a grin, very proud of the fact that he used Dad's body wash, and his own deoderant.
I was so proud. But at the same time, I couldn't help but remember the slippery little baby that we washed so many years ago.
It seems just like yesterday....
Monday, August 20, 2007
Rah! Rah! Sis-boom-ba!!!!!
My daughter, who turned 7 this year, decided to try cheerleading. For several years, my son has been playing Pop Warner football and we sometimes watched the cheerleaders from afar. So this year, instead of her sitting around watching the football players, I suggested she join the cheerleaders. In my mind, I pictured Sandy in the movie 'Grease'. She'd have pom poms and cheer the team on with lots of spirit.
How naive I am.
The first night of practice I watched while 15 little girls did their exercises and started learning the cheers. I didn't pay too much attention since I brought a magazine and my favorite Sudoko book.
The next night I DID pay attention and wished I hadn't. After about an hour of listening to 'cheers', I started furiously scribbling in my little notebook. Within a few minutes, this is what I had written:
Oh my God! Am I in the twilight zone??? Here I am watching 7 and 8 year olds
cheerleading. Could they possibly be spelling 'H-O-T T-O G-O? I know they're
supposedly talking about the team, but come on! Who in their right mind wouldn't
read other meanings into it?
If that's not bad enough, they just completed the 'Firecracker' cheer:
"....the players have the muscles,
the coaches have the brains,
the girls have the pretty legs and
WE'LL WIN THE GAME!!!!"
WHAT???????!!!!!! The 'girls have the pretty legs ?(as they run their hands up their leg).
Are they insinuating they have neither muscles or brains?
I guess the feminist side of me is incredulous.
"Get over it!" hubby says.
Sorry, but I find it incredibly sexist. Here are a bunch of girls cheering on a sports
team, extolling their virtues while showing off their tiny 7 and 8 year old legs. Is
this our future as women? I hope not. Visions of Libby Lu are dancing in my head...
My daughter loves cheerleading and doesn't seem to notice the obvious sexism. I don't want to make her quit, but I will talk to her regarding the content of the cheers so she knows it's just pretend.
Geez... I wonder why women today are so uptight about their appearance......
How naive I am.
The first night of practice I watched while 15 little girls did their exercises and started learning the cheers. I didn't pay too much attention since I brought a magazine and my favorite Sudoko book.
The next night I DID pay attention and wished I hadn't. After about an hour of listening to 'cheers', I started furiously scribbling in my little notebook. Within a few minutes, this is what I had written:
Oh my God! Am I in the twilight zone??? Here I am watching 7 and 8 year olds
cheerleading. Could they possibly be spelling 'H-O-T T-O G-O? I know they're
supposedly talking about the team, but come on! Who in their right mind wouldn't
read other meanings into it?
If that's not bad enough, they just completed the 'Firecracker' cheer:
"....the players have the muscles,
the coaches have the brains,
the girls have the pretty legs and
WE'LL WIN THE GAME!!!!"
WHAT???????!!!!!! The 'girls have the pretty legs ?(as they run their hands up their leg).
Are they insinuating they have neither muscles or brains?
I guess the feminist side of me is incredulous.
"Get over it!" hubby says.
Sorry, but I find it incredibly sexist. Here are a bunch of girls cheering on a sports
team, extolling their virtues while showing off their tiny 7 and 8 year old legs. Is
this our future as women? I hope not. Visions of Libby Lu are dancing in my head...
My daughter loves cheerleading and doesn't seem to notice the obvious sexism. I don't want to make her quit, but I will talk to her regarding the content of the cheers so she knows it's just pretend.
Geez... I wonder why women today are so uptight about their appearance......
Friday, August 17, 2007
Baby Lisa Who???
I had quite a bit of trouble thinking of a blogger name. I was going to write my name backwards, but it may be way too obvious to the thinking human being. Then I was thinking of the nick-names various people in my life have called me. Again, they would be a dead giveaway to my identity. I can't explain why because then I would have to write them down to explain which would expose me in order to explain why I don't want to use them. Get it? Me neither.
Anyway, I was sitting here thinking of some names my children have made up for their stuffed animals. Two instantly came to mind. My daughter, at 5 years old, got a battery operated stuffed dog who looks like he's breathing peacefully while sleeping. Her name for him? Mexiphlegm. Don't ask why. She didn't even know why. My niece, at 11 years old objected to it greatly because of the 'phlegm' part. She said it was gross. I couldn't disagree, but I fully know that my daughter had no idea what phlegm was. Anyway, that name stuck, but it's too strange to print.
Another time, she named her stuffed bear 'Mommylo'. Cute, indeed, but strange. There was no rhyme or reason to the title. I think she just says the first thing that comes to mind. Again, it's just too strange a name to use.
Then I thought of it. She's 7 now, but when she was just three, we were looking for a name for our new small white MALE dog. The rest of us tried our best to be original. I came up with Rover, Killer, etc. My smart-a** husband came up with 'Kitty'. Of course he was vetoed. Then, my precious little girl out of nowhere came up with the idea of 'Baby Lisa'. Why? I don't know. But the name has become legend in our house. Luckily, the small white MALE dog was given a normal dog name by our son.
So here I am. I am neither a baby and my name is not Lisa. But it just seems fitting to use it. I KNOW I don't want to be known as 'Mexiphlegm'.
Anyway, I was sitting here thinking of some names my children have made up for their stuffed animals. Two instantly came to mind. My daughter, at 5 years old, got a battery operated stuffed dog who looks like he's breathing peacefully while sleeping. Her name for him? Mexiphlegm. Don't ask why. She didn't even know why. My niece, at 11 years old objected to it greatly because of the 'phlegm' part. She said it was gross. I couldn't disagree, but I fully know that my daughter had no idea what phlegm was. Anyway, that name stuck, but it's too strange to print.
Another time, she named her stuffed bear 'Mommylo'. Cute, indeed, but strange. There was no rhyme or reason to the title. I think she just says the first thing that comes to mind. Again, it's just too strange a name to use.
Then I thought of it. She's 7 now, but when she was just three, we were looking for a name for our new small white MALE dog. The rest of us tried our best to be original. I came up with Rover, Killer, etc. My smart-a** husband came up with 'Kitty'. Of course he was vetoed. Then, my precious little girl out of nowhere came up with the idea of 'Baby Lisa'. Why? I don't know. But the name has become legend in our house. Luckily, the small white MALE dog was given a normal dog name by our son.
So here I am. I am neither a baby and my name is not Lisa. But it just seems fitting to use it. I KNOW I don't want to be known as 'Mexiphlegm'.
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