I want to send a sincere and heartfelt THANKS to the employees and customers of the Michael's craft store that Coach wandered into last week. Every last one of you that spoke to him, offering to help him out as he so obviously did not belong in there; helped to ensure that the gifts he helped Jock and Bug make for me turned out Exactly.Perfect.
Honey, after 16 years together it still makes me misty when you step out of your comfort zone for me. Thank you.
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Bug walked up to me in the kitchen last night with this revelation:
Bug: Mom, I know why the heart is the symbol for love.
Me: Really? Why is that?
Bug: Well, when two people kiss, from the side their heads together are shaped like a heart. And you only kiss people you love.
Baby, may you always believe that you should only kiss people you love, and always see the hearts of everyone.
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The boys were told Christmas Eve that they were NOT to leave their rooms before 8 o'clock in the morning to come and wake us up. So at precisely 8:00:01, Bug wandered into my room, and poked my shoulder. Mumbling something about having taken some NyQuil before I went to bed so I couldn't get up yet, I pulled him down to lay next to me. Where he snoozed for another 30 minutes before I nudged him to go get his brother up, and we'd get this Christmas thing started.
As we were all gathering around the tree, getting settled into our gift opening positions, Jock was grumbling. Apparently, for no good reason that he could fathom, he had simply woken up at 6 o'clock. And try as he might, he hadn't been able to fully go back to sleep.
Sweetheart, I truly hope that the magic of Christmas wakes you up in the wee hours of the morning for many years to come. That's proof that you're not too old for it yet.
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I am anticipating this week to be full of reflections and memories for me. Aside from the fact that I'm normally over-nostalgic, I always tend to spend this week looking back over how the year has gone. Seeing who my boys were in January, and who they've grown into by December. And this year has felt really huge to me. There have been so many changes in the boys.
This coming year promises to be even bigger. We've got major milestones on the horizon. A 16th birthday and a driver's license for Jock. Middle school and the probable first girlfriend for Bug.
My boys aren't babies anymore, despite my insistence that they will always be MY babies.
Showing posts with label Holidays. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Holidays. Show all posts
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Sunday, December 21, 2008
So Am I On The Naughty List For This?
Why is it that gift giving in the office is always a hugely political event? When did it stop being about giving something just to give it, because you wanted to and you could; and start being about everyone needing to contribute a certain amount for the group gift AND getting something just from yourself as well?
And it's quite possibly just me, but every time someone tells me Don't worry about it, just do what you can it always sounds so insincere. Why is there some big competition about the gifts, and who got the bosses what? Do we honestly think they'll promote us or increase our salary based on what they got for Christmas?
I don't talk about work much here, for several reasons. The least of which being the possibility that someone from my office will read it. My blog isn't a secret to people who know me here. But I have spent a large amount of my time the last several days being upset about this. I've got multiple bosses, and the office staff decided to go in together on gifts for them. (I say we all did, but really... I walked in on the tail end of the conversation and was put in the position of agreeing.) Ok, fine. We'll go in on a gift for each of them. The idea was to keep the cost down. After everything was figured out and added up, it was a little more than a few dollars. At least to a mother struggling to get her kids a decent Christmas at the end of a really hard financial year.
Do I point out here that I'm the only married person in the office, other than one of the bosses? Or that I'm one of only two people with kids? Or that of those two, I'm the only one with a child young enough to still not quite understand when money is too tight to do a Christmas like the ones in past years?
Regardless, I ponied up. And then found out that in addition to the group gift, one of the other girls had gotten each boss something more, just from her. And I am petty enough to have felt shown up. I am insecure enough to constantly feel like I'm in competition with this particular girl. Which means I am insecure enough to have decided I needed to do something more for the office for Christmas. So I spent this afternoon making salsa. Coach and the boys were really excited about this decision. I make a really good salsa.
Six pounds of tomatoes and various other ingredients later, I finally had a large enough batch of salsa to put into these cute little Christmas containers. I also made each person their personal bag of chips, in cute little Christmas bags. What I didn't do, however, was have enough left over for Coach and the boys.
So, to recap...
I am insecure. Apparently a lot more insecure than I gave myself credit for. My coworkers -- whom I suppose I like but certainly don't consider the priority people in my life -- are getting some really good salsa; while my family --whom I absolutely love and DO consider the priority people in my life -- are left with none.
But at least the bowls and the bags are cute.
And it's quite possibly just me, but every time someone tells me Don't worry about it, just do what you can it always sounds so insincere. Why is there some big competition about the gifts, and who got the bosses what? Do we honestly think they'll promote us or increase our salary based on what they got for Christmas?
I don't talk about work much here, for several reasons. The least of which being the possibility that someone from my office will read it. My blog isn't a secret to people who know me here. But I have spent a large amount of my time the last several days being upset about this. I've got multiple bosses, and the office staff decided to go in together on gifts for them. (I say we all did, but really... I walked in on the tail end of the conversation and was put in the position of agreeing.) Ok, fine. We'll go in on a gift for each of them. The idea was to keep the cost down. After everything was figured out and added up, it was a little more than a few dollars. At least to a mother struggling to get her kids a decent Christmas at the end of a really hard financial year.
Do I point out here that I'm the only married person in the office, other than one of the bosses? Or that I'm one of only two people with kids? Or that of those two, I'm the only one with a child young enough to still not quite understand when money is too tight to do a Christmas like the ones in past years?
Regardless, I ponied up. And then found out that in addition to the group gift, one of the other girls had gotten each boss something more, just from her. And I am petty enough to have felt shown up. I am insecure enough to constantly feel like I'm in competition with this particular girl. Which means I am insecure enough to have decided I needed to do something more for the office for Christmas. So I spent this afternoon making salsa. Coach and the boys were really excited about this decision. I make a really good salsa.
Six pounds of tomatoes and various other ingredients later, I finally had a large enough batch of salsa to put into these cute little Christmas containers. I also made each person their personal bag of chips, in cute little Christmas bags. What I didn't do, however, was have enough left over for Coach and the boys.
So, to recap...
I am insecure. Apparently a lot more insecure than I gave myself credit for. My coworkers -- whom I suppose I like but certainly don't consider the priority people in my life -- are getting some really good salsa; while my family --whom I absolutely love and DO consider the priority people in my life -- are left with none.
But at least the bowls and the bags are cute.
Thursday, November 27, 2008
My Reasons For Enjoying That Bird
This Thanksgiving, like so many before it, has me looking back at my life. It finds me giving in to the need to rediscover all that is right with my life, and possibly some things that might not be. The need to reacquaint myself with all that I've been given to be thankful for. Coach, Jock and Bug have been the most amazing gifts I could have ever been given, and there have been so many moments throughout our lives together that remind me just how thankful I am for these three remarkable souls to be in my life. I hope you'll take this chance to wander back with me as I revisit some of these moments; moments that have truly driven home how very lucky I am.
This child, no matter how frustrating he may be, can ALWAYS make me smile.
The strength of character of this boy always amazes me.
That I have the courage to talk to my children about awkward subjects.
That a rough Freshman season not only didn't make him hate the sport, but in the end pushed him to work harder for this season.
Hard as it was, I'm thankful for the lesson all three of my boys learned this year. And so incredibly thankful that they are learning the lesson and not the lesson being learned.
That I can still laugh at myself.
For one day, I was more important than football.
There are so many more moments of thankfulness. As I was going back through my archives for this, it occurred to me that if I linked them all, you'd be here all day. And I'm sure you've got other posts to read and turkeys to eat.
Besides, all of those posts in my archives will still be here tomorrow (and you should absolutely feel free to browse them!). Even if you won't be. Let me know how your Black Friday shopping trips went, ok?
This child, no matter how frustrating he may be, can ALWAYS make me smile.
The strength of character of this boy always amazes me.
That I have the courage to talk to my children about awkward subjects.
That a rough Freshman season not only didn't make him hate the sport, but in the end pushed him to work harder for this season.
Hard as it was, I'm thankful for the lesson all three of my boys learned this year. And so incredibly thankful that they are learning the lesson and not the lesson being learned.
That I can still laugh at myself.
For one day, I was more important than football.
There are so many more moments of thankfulness. As I was going back through my archives for this, it occurred to me that if I linked them all, you'd be here all day. And I'm sure you've got other posts to read and turkeys to eat.
Besides, all of those posts in my archives will still be here tomorrow (and you should absolutely feel free to browse them!). Even if you won't be. Let me know how your Black Friday shopping trips went, ok?
Saturday, July 12, 2008
The Cool New Holiday
Bug: Mom, I'm going to get Jock (insert random thing he thinks his brother wants here.... I don't remember what it was, and it really has no bearing on the story, so just roll with it) that he wants. You know, for Brother's Day.
Me: Um, Brother's Day? Are you inventing your own holiday?
Bug: Yep. A Brothers and Sisters Day. You know... a BS Day.
Me: .....laughing so hard there are tears, because really? That holiday would totally be a favorite at my house with my boys!...... Um, dude.... if you only knew why I think that's so funny!
Bug: I do! You're laughing 'cuz it sounds like (whispering) B.S..... the swear word!
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Bug: Mom, you don't know me nearly as well as you think you do!
Me: Or really? Dude, I'd bet I know you better than you think I do! Wanna test me?
Bug: Ok. Do I like girls? (now really.... did he need to start with that one? Can't he just let me pretend he doesn't know they exist?)
Me: Well, they're ok as friends, but not for anything else. (Can YOU hear the hopeful note in there? I think he missed that.)
Bug: .... laughing.... Mayyyybbeeee...
Me: What? (sounding all sorts of pretend shocked).... Are you thinking of kissing on some girl?
Bug: (giving me the grin that the men in my family have apparently patented... the one guaranteed to make me smile and forget that we're discussing something I'd rather not) Maayyyyybe..... maybe not. But the point is that (dramatic pause here) .... YOU DON'T KNOW! Which means I win! You don't know me as well as you think you do!
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So my question is.......
Was today B.S. Day and I missed it?
Me: Um, Brother's Day? Are you inventing your own holiday?
Bug: Yep. A Brothers and Sisters Day. You know... a BS Day.
Me: .....laughing so hard there are tears, because really? That holiday would totally be a favorite at my house with my boys!...... Um, dude.... if you only knew why I think that's so funny!
Bug: I do! You're laughing 'cuz it sounds like (whispering) B.S..... the swear word!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bug: Mom, you don't know me nearly as well as you think you do!
Me: Or really? Dude, I'd bet I know you better than you think I do! Wanna test me?
Bug: Ok. Do I like girls? (now really.... did he need to start with that one? Can't he just let me pretend he doesn't know they exist?)
Me: Well, they're ok as friends, but not for anything else. (Can YOU hear the hopeful note in there? I think he missed that.)
Bug: .... laughing.... Mayyyybbeeee...
Me: What? (sounding all sorts of pretend shocked).... Are you thinking of kissing on some girl?
Bug: (giving me the grin that the men in my family have apparently patented... the one guaranteed to make me smile and forget that we're discussing something I'd rather not) Maayyyyybe..... maybe not. But the point is that (dramatic pause here) .... YOU DON'T KNOW! Which means I win! You don't know me as well as you think you do!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So my question is.......
Was today B.S. Day and I missed it?
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Halfway to 70
What, exactly, does that mean, you're asking.
Is it the number of posts I've had? No... actually, I think that number might be somewhere around 140 or so.
Is it the number of times I had to tell Bug today that No, he couldn't have that sword only to have Coach tell him at the end of the day that he could? No, that's not it either. And that sword? Apparently they're even going to try to convince Jock to draw some incredible design for either the hilt or the blade.
No, my friends. Its me. Today marks the day that I am officially halfway to 70. At least, that's what I overheard Coach telling the boys this morning before I got out of bed. Wasn't that sweet of him? However, in the interest of preserving Coach's life, and going along with my usual practice of the ostrich lifestyle (you know, keeping my head in the sand at all costs)..... I'm going to choose to believe that Coach was merely taking the opportunity of my birth to further enforce Bug's mathematical abilities. Otherwise, I'm going to break down and either sock him in the nose or kick him in the shins.
One of the greatest things about Arizona is that the Renaissance Festival is here every year on my birthday. Spending the entire day here is probably one of my favorite things to do. Giant turkey legs. Steak on a Stake. Free flowing beverages of the adult variety starting when the gates open at 10 AM. And the most amazing examples of period dress EVER. C'mon... what's not to love?
There are the shows: Dead Bob. Zilch the Torysteller. The Tortuga Twins. The Wyldemen. Don Juan and Miguel.
There is the marketplace, with so many things to see and spend money on, like the aforementioned sword. There is more food than any one person can eat in a day. There are games and rides that are powered by actual manpower, not anything electrical.
And yes. We watched all those shows. I particularly loved the Tairy Fales from Zilch, and Dead Bob. Yes, we went shopping; buying that darn sword and a Celtic cross necklace for Jock. And? I got to have this done to my hair:
Is it the number of posts I've had? No... actually, I think that number might be somewhere around 140 or so.
Is it the number of times I had to tell Bug today that No, he couldn't have that sword only to have Coach tell him at the end of the day that he could? No, that's not it either. And that sword? Apparently they're even going to try to convince Jock to draw some incredible design for either the hilt or the blade.
No, my friends. Its me. Today marks the day that I am officially halfway to 70. At least, that's what I overheard Coach telling the boys this morning before I got out of bed. Wasn't that sweet of him? However, in the interest of preserving Coach's life, and going along with my usual practice of the ostrich lifestyle (you know, keeping my head in the sand at all costs)..... I'm going to choose to believe that Coach was merely taking the opportunity of my birth to further enforce Bug's mathematical abilities. Otherwise, I'm going to break down and either sock him in the nose or kick him in the shins.
One of the greatest things about Arizona is that the Renaissance Festival is here every year on my birthday. Spending the entire day here is probably one of my favorite things to do. Giant turkey legs. Steak on a Stake. Free flowing beverages of the adult variety starting when the gates open at 10 AM. And the most amazing examples of period dress EVER. C'mon... what's not to love?
There are the shows: Dead Bob. Zilch the Torysteller. The Tortuga Twins. The Wyldemen. Don Juan and Miguel.
There is the marketplace, with so many things to see and spend money on, like the aforementioned sword. There is more food than any one person can eat in a day. There are games and rides that are powered by actual manpower, not anything electrical.
And yes. We watched all those shows. I particularly loved the Tairy Fales from Zilch, and Dead Bob. Yes, we went shopping; buying that darn sword and a Celtic cross necklace for Jock. And? I got to have this done to my hair:
Its a little hard to see, since I didn't think to have anyone take a picture of it for me until just now. So that left me to try to do it on my own. You got the best shot after fifteen tries. Trust me, its very cool. I love it. Getting my hair braided is one of the things I absolutely HAVE to do every year when we go. The other thing we HAVE to do when we go? We absolutely must watch the joust. To be more specific, the Fight To The Death Joust.
Again, I know its hard to see. But we were so close to it all! We got to see the blood spray from arms and necks as the knights died. We were close enough to hear the trash talking done in Old English. You smell like dead meat!
Today was awesome. From start to finish, every little thing helped me to remember that being halfway to 70 isn't such a bad thing. My kids had a great time hanging out with me, despite the fact that they think I'm old. My husband willingly handed over what was probably too much money so I could get my hair braided. Which will last for at least a couple of days, prolonging my enjoyment. And? I got to see some amazingly studly knights fight to the death!
Maybe a better title for this post would have been:
French Braids and Bloodshed: The Perfect Day!
Sunday, February 3, 2008
Our Own Family Holiday
If you haven't figured it out by now, we're what you'd call a "Football Family".
Coach played it as a kid. He coaches it now.
Both my younger brothers played it growing up.
Both of our boys have played if for years, and Jock is planning his future around playing it.
So it should come as no suprise to you that in our little corner of the world, today was a major holiday. And like all other major holidays, it involved lots of junk food, a party, and getting nothing done around the house. (Well, except for the part where I cleaned like a pregnant woman nesting in order to get ready for said party!) If we could, I think we'd all even give gifts to each other. I know Mama G (remember her? my MIL?) got flowers delivered! (Ok, so its remotely possible that her husband sent them just 'cuz he loves her and he lives in Hawaii so doesn't get to see her everyday.... but c'mon? Is there a better reason to send flowers this time of year than the Super Bowl? I didn't think so! I only wish Coach had thought of it!)
Our annual party was actually Jock's idea. A few years ago, he was lamenting the fact that all of the major holiday parties were at Grandma's house. He really wanted to have one at our house. Coach and I told him to pick a holiday that wasn't already taken by Grandma, and we'd start having a party at our house. He thought about it, and thought about it, and thought about it some more. Threw out dates like Easter (taken); St. Patrick's Day (usually fell on a school day, so it was a little harder to have a party then); he quickly discovered that Grandma had all the great holidays!
Then it hit him! The Super Bowl! After all, Dad loves football, and knows everything about it; and was probably going to be sitting there watching the game anyway. Why not have everyone over to watch it with him? Jock told us that it made perfect sense to have a big party at our house. And so, it was declared a family holiday from that point on.
This year, Jock was invited over to a friend's house for a party. It was a bittersweet moment in my house. After all, this was a "holiday" that he had created, a tradition he helped start. And this year, especially, was shaping up to be so much fun since he's gotten into the game as much as he has. But what kind of a mom would I be if I guilted him into staying? (Ok.. yes, I know that traditionally that is a mom's gift....but I'm not as good at it as you would think!) Besides, I WANT the kid to have friends. So, off he went. It was supposed to be one heckuva Patriot victory party.
It was really too bad things didn't turn out that way.
Jock came home, admitted (very grumpily, I might add) that Yes, Mom... I was crying! when confronted with the obvious signs of emotional distress, and went and hid in his room. When I went in to check on him a little later, I discovered him asleep. With his head buried beneath his pillows.
When he entered high school, I was *mostly* prepared for the various types of heartbreak he would face. Girls. Coaches. Grades. His own teams' defeats. But somehow the heartbreak of his favorite professional team blowing the single biggest game of their careers flew in under my radar.
Go figure.
Coach played it as a kid. He coaches it now.
Both my younger brothers played it growing up.
Both of our boys have played if for years, and Jock is planning his future around playing it.
So it should come as no suprise to you that in our little corner of the world, today was a major holiday. And like all other major holidays, it involved lots of junk food, a party, and getting nothing done around the house. (Well, except for the part where I cleaned like a pregnant woman nesting in order to get ready for said party!) If we could, I think we'd all even give gifts to each other. I know Mama G (remember her? my MIL?) got flowers delivered! (Ok, so its remotely possible that her husband sent them just 'cuz he loves her and he lives in Hawaii so doesn't get to see her everyday.... but c'mon? Is there a better reason to send flowers this time of year than the Super Bowl? I didn't think so! I only wish Coach had thought of it!)
Our annual party was actually Jock's idea. A few years ago, he was lamenting the fact that all of the major holiday parties were at Grandma's house. He really wanted to have one at our house. Coach and I told him to pick a holiday that wasn't already taken by Grandma, and we'd start having a party at our house. He thought about it, and thought about it, and thought about it some more. Threw out dates like Easter (taken); St. Patrick's Day (usually fell on a school day, so it was a little harder to have a party then); he quickly discovered that Grandma had all the great holidays!
Then it hit him! The Super Bowl! After all, Dad loves football, and knows everything about it; and was probably going to be sitting there watching the game anyway. Why not have everyone over to watch it with him? Jock told us that it made perfect sense to have a big party at our house. And so, it was declared a family holiday from that point on.
This year, Jock was invited over to a friend's house for a party. It was a bittersweet moment in my house. After all, this was a "holiday" that he had created, a tradition he helped start. And this year, especially, was shaping up to be so much fun since he's gotten into the game as much as he has. But what kind of a mom would I be if I guilted him into staying? (Ok.. yes, I know that traditionally that is a mom's gift....but I'm not as good at it as you would think!) Besides, I WANT the kid to have friends. So, off he went. It was supposed to be one heckuva Patriot victory party.
It was really too bad things didn't turn out that way.
Jock came home, admitted (very grumpily, I might add) that Yes, Mom... I was crying! when confronted with the obvious signs of emotional distress, and went and hid in his room. When I went in to check on him a little later, I discovered him asleep. With his head buried beneath his pillows.
When he entered high school, I was *mostly* prepared for the various types of heartbreak he would face. Girls. Coaches. Grades. His own teams' defeats. But somehow the heartbreak of his favorite professional team blowing the single biggest game of their careers flew in under my radar.
Go figure.
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
I Resolve......
HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!
Yay!! We survived 2007! And by "we", I mean that I managed to not reduce the world's population by three! (Coach, Jock and Bug!)
Its that time when everyone decides to make changes in their lives. It is assumed for the better. Imagine how healthier the planet would be if everyone who resolved to lose weight, actually did. Or how many new books would be read if everyone actually read what they resolved to read? How many old friends would we make contact with again? How many new friends would we make? How many parents would stop cursing, how many yards and gardens would get weeded regularly, and how much less soda and more water would be consumed?
Or maybe those are just the resolutions that have been broken in my house over the years.
Anyway, in the spirit of the New Year, here is my list of resolutions for 2008. I've tried to keep them realistic and obtainable, while pushing myself to be a better person.
I resolve......
...... to close more car doors with my feet.
...... to get my glasses an updated prescription.
...... to buy more socks so I can do less laundry.
...... to throw away all my scales.
...... to do one less load of dishes a day, freeing up more playtime with my kids.
...... to learn how to operate the XBox control paddles, so I can maybe play a game or two with one of the three testosterone containers in my household.
...... to go to bed a little earlier each night for more snuggle time with my Coach.
...... to hug my kids at least one more time each day.
...... to eat more chocolate.
...... to dance more with my vacuum.
...... to dance more with my sons.
...... to sing just a little louder in the car.
...... to look in the mirror each day and find something new to like about myself.
...... to appreciate myself more so my family follows my example.
...... to find ways to get my kids to tell me they love me in public.
...... to tell my kids I love them in public.
...... to tell my kids more often how much I love them no matter where we are.
...... to call my parents and my brothers more often, even if they never call me first.
...... to learn to make a good spaghetti sauce from scratch so I can break the Ragu habit.
...... to eat more chocolate (no... not a duplicate resolution..... just eating more chocolate!)
Happy New Year everyone! May 2008 bring you all the happiness you might have missed in 2007, and not repeat any of the sorrows you passed through along the way!
Monday, December 31, 2007
Guilty
I did it.
I did what no mom is ever allowed to do. Something catastrophic to the world she controls and oversees. Something so bad that life as her family knows it completely shuts down.
I got sick.
This lovely virus was generously gifted to me this holiday season by my nieces and nephews, who seem to always have a supply of these little bugs on hand. And they love me so much they just had to share their bounty with me. Wasn't that sweet?
Its been a rough seven days, folks. I woke up Christmas morning with a scratchy throat, but shrugged it off. After all, we had presents to open! Toys to play with! Chocolate to eat!
Then I discovered the battery in my camera was dead. So, no Christmas pictures of my boys this year. Which sucked, because all three of them (Coach included) got some cool stuff that I really wanted "reaction" pictures of. *sigh* Oh well. We decided to stop and get some on the way to Grandma's house.
When we got to Grandma's house, my crew all piled out of the car and headed inside. Conveniently forgetting Mom outside left to carry all the gifts FROM us inside. Bless Coach's heart, he did come back out to help me. Which, looking back, might not have been such a great idea. As he was opening the back door, I was closing the front door. The suction from that, combined with the extreme winds here that day, ensured that the door I was holding.... slammed shut. ON MY FINGER! I have to tell you, I never realized that fingers could actually bend where there isn't a knuckle joint. It took me an amazingly long time to think enough to actually open the door to remove my hand. At which point words started coming out of my mouth that really shouldn't have been uttered on Christ's birthday. (I really am ashamed of that part..... asked forgiveness for a looooonnnggg time for it, too!) I'm not sure what prompted the running, but I set land speed records into that house, sobbing and swearing the entire time. Got in the door, dropped everything in my hands, and made a beeline for the kitchen. By the time we got my finger iced, I was ready to pass out. Apparently, I'm a wuss.
Meanwhile, the virus that the little darlings had shared with me was gearing up for one helluva party in my system. Maybe the adrenaline rush had hastened them along?
By the time I got home that night, I was ready to drop. I had fever, couldn't breathe, and it felt like someone had parked their car right on my chest. That feeling lasted until .....ohhhh..... now. But, I'm not just a mama. I'm a working mama. So it really doesn't matter how I feel, right? I've had to bravely soldier on; going to work, coming home to make dinner, go grocery shopping, do laundry, and just generally take care of the boys.
Thank God for Nyquil, that's all I can say. Oh, and my finger? Still not working quite right. But it IS a pretty shade of purple.
I did what no mom is ever allowed to do. Something catastrophic to the world she controls and oversees. Something so bad that life as her family knows it completely shuts down.
I got sick.
This lovely virus was generously gifted to me this holiday season by my nieces and nephews, who seem to always have a supply of these little bugs on hand. And they love me so much they just had to share their bounty with me. Wasn't that sweet?
Its been a rough seven days, folks. I woke up Christmas morning with a scratchy throat, but shrugged it off. After all, we had presents to open! Toys to play with! Chocolate to eat!
Then I discovered the battery in my camera was dead. So, no Christmas pictures of my boys this year. Which sucked, because all three of them (Coach included) got some cool stuff that I really wanted "reaction" pictures of. *sigh* Oh well. We decided to stop and get some on the way to Grandma's house.
When we got to Grandma's house, my crew all piled out of the car and headed inside. Conveniently forgetting Mom outside left to carry all the gifts FROM us inside. Bless Coach's heart, he did come back out to help me. Which, looking back, might not have been such a great idea. As he was opening the back door, I was closing the front door. The suction from that, combined with the extreme winds here that day, ensured that the door I was holding.... slammed shut. ON MY FINGER! I have to tell you, I never realized that fingers could actually bend where there isn't a knuckle joint. It took me an amazingly long time to think enough to actually open the door to remove my hand. At which point words started coming out of my mouth that really shouldn't have been uttered on Christ's birthday. (I really am ashamed of that part..... asked forgiveness for a looooonnnggg time for it, too!) I'm not sure what prompted the running, but I set land speed records into that house, sobbing and swearing the entire time. Got in the door, dropped everything in my hands, and made a beeline for the kitchen. By the time we got my finger iced, I was ready to pass out. Apparently, I'm a wuss.
Meanwhile, the virus that the little darlings had shared with me was gearing up for one helluva party in my system. Maybe the adrenaline rush had hastened them along?
By the time I got home that night, I was ready to drop. I had fever, couldn't breathe, and it felt like someone had parked their car right on my chest. That feeling lasted until .....ohhhh..... now. But, I'm not just a mama. I'm a working mama. So it really doesn't matter how I feel, right? I've had to bravely soldier on; going to work, coming home to make dinner, go grocery shopping, do laundry, and just generally take care of the boys.
Thank God for Nyquil, that's all I can say. Oh, and my finger? Still not working quite right. But it IS a pretty shade of purple.
Monday, December 24, 2007
Random Ramblings
For the record, no matter what his other flaws might be, I married an intelligent man.
When faced with a choice between music that apparently the majority of people in the car on the way to Grandma's house felt was the best of all possible worlds, what with its steady thumping beats, electric guitar riffs, and rock-style vocals..... and a wife on the verge of break-down tears because not a single one of them wants to sing Christmas carols with her anymore, let alone hear them playing in the car on the stereo, thus sucking all the Christmas magic out of my season.......
He changed the radio station. And told the boys to sit back and shut up if they couldn't bring themselves to sing along. And dammit, Sports Mama, you wanted this Christmas music so here it is.... get singing!
Winter Wonderland took on a whole new meaning.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I have not gotten to sleep in past 6 am on Christmas morning. EVER.
For the first 8 years or so, it was because I was too excited to sleep any longer.
For the next 10 years it was because I had younger brothers that were too excited to sleep any longer.
For the 14 years since then, its because I have had children who won't sleep any longer.
I find myself impatient for the year when both my boys sleep in before they get everyone up to open gifts. And then I get a bit melancholy, because that will be the year I no longer have little boys, but instead have young men.
However, I think that might be a decent trade off for an extra three hours of sleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Root beer floats.
Super yummy. Super creamy. Super foamy. I love these! They are the best things ever invented to do with a can of root beer and a scoop (or three!) of vanilla ice cream.
Nothing has the power to make a little girl smile quite like trying to suck ice cream through a straw, and the taste of ice-creamy root beer.
And my brother-in-law has made this perfect treat every night for the last couple of nights for my six year old nieces. Are they lucky, or what?
All I can say is Coach is part of a fantastic gene pool.
I have tremendous hope for the future of my boys as husbands and fathers.
When faced with a choice between music that apparently the majority of people in the car on the way to Grandma's house felt was the best of all possible worlds, what with its steady thumping beats, electric guitar riffs, and rock-style vocals..... and a wife on the verge of break-down tears because not a single one of them wants to sing Christmas carols with her anymore, let alone hear them playing in the car on the stereo, thus sucking all the Christmas magic out of my season.......
He changed the radio station. And told the boys to sit back and shut up if they couldn't bring themselves to sing along. And dammit, Sports Mama, you wanted this Christmas music so here it is.... get singing!
Winter Wonderland took on a whole new meaning.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I have not gotten to sleep in past 6 am on Christmas morning. EVER.
For the first 8 years or so, it was because I was too excited to sleep any longer.
For the next 10 years it was because I had younger brothers that were too excited to sleep any longer.
For the 14 years since then, its because I have had children who won't sleep any longer.
I find myself impatient for the year when both my boys sleep in before they get everyone up to open gifts. And then I get a bit melancholy, because that will be the year I no longer have little boys, but instead have young men.
However, I think that might be a decent trade off for an extra three hours of sleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Root beer floats.
Super yummy. Super creamy. Super foamy. I love these! They are the best things ever invented to do with a can of root beer and a scoop (or three!) of vanilla ice cream.
Nothing has the power to make a little girl smile quite like trying to suck ice cream through a straw, and the taste of ice-creamy root beer.
And my brother-in-law has made this perfect treat every night for the last couple of nights for my six year old nieces. Are they lucky, or what?
All I can say is Coach is part of a fantastic gene pool.
I have tremendous hope for the future of my boys as husbands and fathers.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Your Opinions, If You Please
Ok. I'm going to use all my internet friends as my guinea pigs this year. Its time for the annual letter. Now, I've seen some examples on some of your blogs, and you all are pretty good at this! :) So..... you get to give me some feedback on mine before I subject.....err, send it out to my friends and family. Hey?? Where are you going?? Come back!!
WHEW! Ok, thanks for caving... I mean, being generous enough to help a mama out here! :) Leave me a comment and let me know what you think. And, if you are one of the chosen who will actually get this along with a Christmas card from us, please act surprised when you open your mail in about a week, ok?
Merry Christmas to One and All!
Yes, I said “Merry Christmas”. Have any of you ever known me to be overly concerned with being politically correct?
Its time once again for the annual letter. And as they say, forewarned is forearmed!
This year marked the passing of another landmark in our household. Jock is now in High School. Yes, despite being an obnoxious teenage (albeit, still a pretty affectionate one towards his mother!), we have decided to let him continue with life, to see where it might take him. So far, we have survived the first season of high school football (undefeated season, thank you very much! GO BULLDOGS!), the first semester of extremely challenging class work (who decided that Algebra was necessary?), the rise in popularity (which meant for Coach and I—the discovery that we make awesome taxi drivers/personal bankers!), and the first “true love” followed by the inevitable break-up. I’ve been reassured by other parents of teenagers that the nightmares have only begun. Surprisingly, or maybe not so much so knowing Coach and I, we are looking forward to them. Also, we ask for your continued prayers and positive thoughts as we get ready to move into baseball season. As we discovered last year, Jock has a knack for luring pitchers to hit him with the ball at least once every game. That is truly frightening this upcoming season, as he has a very good chance of making the Varsity baseball team. That means the balls are thrown faster and harder, and not necessarily with more control. We could be looking at a very bruised teenager for a couple of months.
Bug is now in 4th grade. This has been a pretty big year for him as well. He was diagnosed earlier this year with ADHD, and his medication has made a tremendous difference! Where he was smart before, getting good grades in school; now he is brilliant, getting amazing grades in school. As an added bonus, Bug is now able to make and keep friends around for a while, so he spends almost more time that Jock outside of the house. Having increased focus has also been amazingly wonderful for his athletic endeavors! He learned this year what a remarkably accurate pitcher he is, striking out nearly every batter he faced. He has always excelled in football, but this year saw more power and determination from him. It also saw his first concussion, but since that first game was followed by injuries in every game after that I’ve become fairly accustomed to the fuss and drama. We’ve also gotten to know the league medic quite well.
Coach and I are still hanging in there! Thankfully, we are still employed. Coach is still driving, and even snagged a promotion to Shipping/Receiving Guy with his company. His boss has been a Godsend to our family, and seems to truly appreciate Coach for the guy that he is. I don’t have to tell you what a blessing that is! And while my employer has changed, I’m still doing property management. I’m excited about this new company, though! They are projecting a lot of growth, which means promotions and extra responsibilities for me coming soon! And we all know how I love the thought of being Queen of All I Can Control. As an added bonus for us, we are celebrating our 15th anniversary this month. Yeah, we sometimes can’t believe we made it, either!
While this letter is pretty brief, considering how amazingly full our life is, there is a way you can keep up with us on a regular basis. Yes, I’ve jumped on board the Blogging Bandwagon! I started a blog this year, and I’ve really enjoyed keeping up with it. If you’d like to take a peek in occasionally, please feel free (no, really….please do!) to log on to: http://youdonthavetolikeme.blogspot.com. I would love to have you visit me there, and you’d get a regular peek into our lives.
As this year winds down, make sure you take a few minutes to relax, breathe, and laugh a little. It makes the journey so much more enjoyable!
With love from our family to yours,
Coach, Sports Mama, Jock and Bug
WHEW! Ok, thanks for caving... I mean, being generous enough to help a mama out here! :) Leave me a comment and let me know what you think. And, if you are one of the chosen who will actually get this along with a Christmas card from us, please act surprised when you open your mail in about a week, ok?
Merry Christmas to One and All!
Yes, I said “Merry Christmas”. Have any of you ever known me to be overly concerned with being politically correct?
Its time once again for the annual letter. And as they say, forewarned is forearmed!
This year marked the passing of another landmark in our household. Jock is now in High School. Yes, despite being an obnoxious teenage (albeit, still a pretty affectionate one towards his mother!), we have decided to let him continue with life, to see where it might take him. So far, we have survived the first season of high school football (undefeated season, thank you very much! GO BULLDOGS!), the first semester of extremely challenging class work (who decided that Algebra was necessary?), the rise in popularity (which meant for Coach and I—the discovery that we make awesome taxi drivers/personal bankers!), and the first “true love” followed by the inevitable break-up. I’ve been reassured by other parents of teenagers that the nightmares have only begun. Surprisingly, or maybe not so much so knowing Coach and I, we are looking forward to them. Also, we ask for your continued prayers and positive thoughts as we get ready to move into baseball season. As we discovered last year, Jock has a knack for luring pitchers to hit him with the ball at least once every game. That is truly frightening this upcoming season, as he has a very good chance of making the Varsity baseball team. That means the balls are thrown faster and harder, and not necessarily with more control. We could be looking at a very bruised teenager for a couple of months.
Bug is now in 4th grade. This has been a pretty big year for him as well. He was diagnosed earlier this year with ADHD, and his medication has made a tremendous difference! Where he was smart before, getting good grades in school; now he is brilliant, getting amazing grades in school. As an added bonus, Bug is now able to make and keep friends around for a while, so he spends almost more time that Jock outside of the house. Having increased focus has also been amazingly wonderful for his athletic endeavors! He learned this year what a remarkably accurate pitcher he is, striking out nearly every batter he faced. He has always excelled in football, but this year saw more power and determination from him. It also saw his first concussion, but since that first game was followed by injuries in every game after that I’ve become fairly accustomed to the fuss and drama. We’ve also gotten to know the league medic quite well.
Coach and I are still hanging in there! Thankfully, we are still employed. Coach is still driving, and even snagged a promotion to Shipping/Receiving Guy with his company. His boss has been a Godsend to our family, and seems to truly appreciate Coach for the guy that he is. I don’t have to tell you what a blessing that is! And while my employer has changed, I’m still doing property management. I’m excited about this new company, though! They are projecting a lot of growth, which means promotions and extra responsibilities for me coming soon! And we all know how I love the thought of being Queen of All I Can Control. As an added bonus for us, we are celebrating our 15th anniversary this month. Yeah, we sometimes can’t believe we made it, either!
While this letter is pretty brief, considering how amazingly full our life is, there is a way you can keep up with us on a regular basis. Yes, I’ve jumped on board the Blogging Bandwagon! I started a blog this year, and I’ve really enjoyed keeping up with it. If you’d like to take a peek in occasionally, please feel free (no, really….please do!) to log on to: http://youdonthavetolikeme.blogspot.com. I would love to have you visit me there, and you’d get a regular peek into our lives.
As this year winds down, make sure you take a few minutes to relax, breathe, and laugh a little. It makes the journey so much more enjoyable!
With love from our family to yours,
Coach, Sports Mama, Jock and Bug
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas.... Everywhere But Here
This is what happens when your Christmas decorations are improperly stored in the desert hell that is Arizona. They melt.
Obviously, we've finally gotten around to pulling the boxes down to get some decorating done. Not sure why I'm in such a rush, though. The holiday isn't for another 13 days, after all. ;)
We have never put up outside lights. I know, I know. Its a sacrilege! However, I knew the score when I married Scrooge. Or maybe he's the Grinch. I'm not entirely certain. Both of them have NO holiday spirit until Christmas morning, and then they're the epitome of generosity. And no one EVER remembers them being pukes leading up to that point. Such is the attitude of Coach.
In years past, I could count on both boys to be excited about things. As I've mentioned before, Jock and I have created quite a few traditions for ourselves. They expanded to include Bug when he got old enough. They would start begging me to get out the decorations and put up the tree right after Thanksgiving. Once the tree was up, they would bounce around like little Jack Russel terriers waiting for me to sort the ornaments out, so that each boy had his own ornaments to hang. As each ornament was pulled out of the storage box, we'd all sit for a minute and remember life the year they made it. **oh yeah.... I'm not one of those super-together mommies.... my tree is not pretty; its covered completely in memory ornaments that my children have created over the years, with the ornaments that Coach and I made as children added in for filler** Meanwhile, Coach would sit over on the couch, trying to see around us to the TV, waiting for when I made a fuss for him to come re-locate the tree to the corner when we were done decorating it, and put the angel on top. (He's still the only one tall enough to do that without grabbing a kitchen chair!)
This year it has become GLARINGLY obvious that Jock is just like his father. When I told him I was going to be doing the tree tonight, he asked if he HAD to help me. HAD TO??? What happened to wanting to? I stood there for a moment, totally and completely baffled. When did decorating the tree become something not fun for him? (Ok, realistically, I know that when he hit teenage-dom he morphed almost overnight into some creature that lives only to torment me by repeatedly breaking my heart over little things. However, that is not the point here.)
So, being the wonderful, understanding mama that I am.... I told him that YES, he HAD TO come help me. After much groaning and posturing, he came and flopped down in front of the tree on his stomach. Cell phone in hand. Constantly buzzing with incoming text messages. I can only imagine what he was telling his friends. When I set his group of ornaments in front of him, he proceeded to place them only within reach of his arm, as apparently it was entirely too much to ask that he GET UP. People, this boy is almost six feet tall. All of his ornaments should at least be on the top half of the tree. Nope. They are all clustered in one spot at the bottom. Looks like it did when he was two. ** but I will point out that he recognized all of his ornaments; and reminded me of a couple that I had not handed to him...maybe he's not a total lost cause this year**
Bug on the other hand, still enjoyed it. He sat with me and talked about each of his ornaments. Giggled over a couple of baked clay ornaments that we can't identify, and no longer even remember what they were supposed to have been. And he took great pains to carefully place each ornament in a special spot on the tree; being careful not to put any other ornaments in the section dedicated to the stained glass nativity ornaments.
Finally, Bug and I hung the candy canes on the tree. In true Christmas pack-rat fashion, I really don't throw much away when it comes to decorations. If its not broke, I'll save it and use it next year. Consequently, our candy canes are about 12 years old, I think. Jock thinks this is hilarious, and plans to invite his friends over and offer them one. Then laugh hysterically at the faces they make over the stale candy.
I have to say, though, that I'm pleased with the finished product. After Bug went to bed, I sat there and just looked at my memories, lost in my own little world of Christmas Past. Jock came over and sat next to me, and said 
Now THIS is Christmas, Mom.
So, yeah. Maybe he's not such a lost cause, after all.
Monday, December 10, 2007
All I Want For Christmas
I got this in an email from a friend today, and loved it so much I wanted to share it with all of you! I would love to give credit to the original author, but I don't know who that is. I'll have to be satisfied just making sure you all know it wasn't me. :) Wouldn't want to be accused of stealing someone else's stuff, now would I? Especially not at this time of year when all good deeds count! Anyway, enjoy!
Dear Santa,
I've been a good mom all year. I've fed, cleaned and cuddled my children on demand, visited the doctor's office more than my doctor and sold sixty-two cases of candy bars to raise money to plant a shade tree on the school playground. I was hoping you could spread my list out over several Christmases, since I had to write this letter with my son's red crayon, on the back of a receipt in the laundry room between cycles, and who knows when I'll find any more free time in the next 18 years.
Here are my Christmas wishes: I'd like a pair of legs that don't ache (in any color, except purple, which I already have) and arms that don't hurt or flap in the breeze, but are strong enough to pull my screaming child out of the candy aisle in the grocery store.
I'd also like a waist, since I lost mine somewhere in the seventh month of my last pregnancy.
If you're hauling big ticket items this year I'd like fingerprint resistant windows and a radio that only plays adult music, a television that doesn't broadcast any programs containing talking animals, and a refrigerator with a secret compartment behind the crisper where I can hide to talk on the phone.
On the practical side, I could use a talking doll that says, "Yes, Mommy" to boost my parental confidence, along with two kids who don't fight and three pairs of jeans that will zip all the way up without the use of power tools.
I could also use a recording of Tibetan monks chanting "Don't eat in the living room" and "Take your hands off your brother," because my voice seems to be just out of my children's hearing range and can only be heard by the dog.
If it's too late to find any of these products, I'd settle for enough time to brush my teeth and comb my hair in the same morning, or the luxury of eating food warmer than room temperature without it being served in a Styrofoam container.
If you don't mind, I could also use a few Christmas miracles to brighten the holiday season. Would it be too much trouble to declare ketchup a vegetable? It will clear my conscience immensely. It would be helpful if you could coerce my children to help around the house without demanding payment as if they were the bosses of an organized crime family.
Well, Santa, the buzzer on the dryer is calling and my son saw my feet under the laundry room door. I think he wants his crayon back. Have a safe trip and remember to leave your wet boots by the door and come in and dry off so you don't catch cold.
Help yourself to cookies on the table but don't eat too many or leave crumbs on the carpet.
Yours Always,
MOM...
P.S. One more thing...you can cancel all my requests if you can keep my children young enough to believe in Santa.
Dear Santa,
I've been a good mom all year. I've fed, cleaned and cuddled my children on demand, visited the doctor's office more than my doctor and sold sixty-two cases of candy bars to raise money to plant a shade tree on the school playground. I was hoping you could spread my list out over several Christmases, since I had to write this letter with my son's red crayon, on the back of a receipt in the laundry room between cycles, and who knows when I'll find any more free time in the next 18 years.
Here are my Christmas wishes: I'd like a pair of legs that don't ache (in any color, except purple, which I already have) and arms that don't hurt or flap in the breeze, but are strong enough to pull my screaming child out of the candy aisle in the grocery store.
I'd also like a waist, since I lost mine somewhere in the seventh month of my last pregnancy.
If you're hauling big ticket items this year I'd like fingerprint resistant windows and a radio that only plays adult music, a television that doesn't broadcast any programs containing talking animals, and a refrigerator with a secret compartment behind the crisper where I can hide to talk on the phone.
On the practical side, I could use a talking doll that says, "Yes, Mommy" to boost my parental confidence, along with two kids who don't fight and three pairs of jeans that will zip all the way up without the use of power tools.
I could also use a recording of Tibetan monks chanting "Don't eat in the living room" and "Take your hands off your brother," because my voice seems to be just out of my children's hearing range and can only be heard by the dog.
If it's too late to find any of these products, I'd settle for enough time to brush my teeth and comb my hair in the same morning, or the luxury of eating food warmer than room temperature without it being served in a Styrofoam container.
If you don't mind, I could also use a few Christmas miracles to brighten the holiday season. Would it be too much trouble to declare ketchup a vegetable? It will clear my conscience immensely. It would be helpful if you could coerce my children to help around the house without demanding payment as if they were the bosses of an organized crime family.
Well, Santa, the buzzer on the dryer is calling and my son saw my feet under the laundry room door. I think he wants his crayon back. Have a safe trip and remember to leave your wet boots by the door and come in and dry off so you don't catch cold.
Help yourself to cookies on the table but don't eat too many or leave crumbs on the carpet.
Yours Always,
MOM...
P.S. One more thing...you can cancel all my requests if you can keep my children young enough to believe in Santa.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Its The Little Things
I'm sitting here at our computer, looking across the room at the sofa. Where my little Bug is sound asleep right now. I keep catching myself just watching him, smiling a little at how he's restless and the way he looks when he's asleep. I really don't need a holiday to remind me to be thankful, but it sure is a great way to let those important to you know that you are.
I'm thankful for so many things in my life right now. Some are everyday miracles and blessings. Some are one time shots, that have happened at just the right moment.
I am thankful for the NFL. No, really, I am. :) Every Sunday, my husband has a couple of different opportunities to sit down and bond with our sons. I watch the three of them debating the skills of different players and arguing the calls of the officials; listening in as Coach takes every chance he gets to teach them something new about the sport or the position the boys play on their own teams. I love hearing them discuss the conduct of certain players, and whether or not its sportsman-like. I don't even mind providing the endless supply of pizza rolls and chips and salsa.
I am thankful for those mornings when someone wakes up before their alarm clocks go off. These are the mornings when Coach will roll over, pull me closer to him, and just hold me. These are the mornings when Bug will climb into bed with me and snuggle, forgetting for just a little while that he's too old anymore to do that. These are the mornings when I am able to spend some quiet time with Jock, talking about how he wants his day at school to go. These are also the mornings I can just lay in bed, listening to all the sounds around me; knowing that I have one more day to love my family.
I am thankful for macaroni and cheese, for it enables me to spend precious time with my sons and husband at night instead of obsessing over what to make for dinner. It also encourages my boys to spend time with me in the kitchen, learning a valuable life skill and just hanging out.
I am thankful for the holes in the knees of Bug's jeans, and our doorbell ringing at 8:00 AM on a Saturday morning. It means that he's outside playing, having finally mastered enough control over himself and his quirks to make friends with boys that enjoy hanging out with him. He spent a rough couple of years when we first moved out here, trying so hard to fit in despite his ADHD and other inner struggles.
I am thankful for the constant texting that Jock does. For like Bug, this means he's found friends that he shares things in common with. It also is a great tool for teaching him responsibility, in a way that he's unaware of!
I am thankful that the first 9 years of my marriage were.... how to put this nicely? .... not so great. Actually, yeah, I really am. Surviving those years together, seeing what we've accomplished and the awesome kids we managed to turn out in spite of the suckiness... its amazing. Coach and I have never loved each other more, never been more supportive of each other, never been more in tune with each other. Heck... we've never even liked each other as much as we do now! I know I have a greater appreciation of the man I married. I am more able to see all that he really is, rather than all that I wanted him to be. I am able to relax in comfortable non-paranoia when he doesn't come home exactly on time. I can now be ok with him going out for a couple of hours after work with the guys, because I know that doesn't mean he doesn't want to be here. Because we lived through times together that should have sent us packing, I am able to completely and totally believe him when he tells me that his life with me is exactly where he wants to be.
I am thankful for the stubborn streak that I inherited from my mom. Every time I dig in my heels on some random issue, it reminds me that I inherited my stubbornness from her. And as long as she remains so stubborn and determined, she will keep fighting the disease that would love nothing more than to break her will. And she will keep beating it.
I am thankful for the babysitter my mom had for my brother and I when we were younger and she was newly divorced from my gene donor. That sitter had a brother that was an amazing man. He took my brother and I into his heart, and gave us the steady, loving male influence we so desperately needed. He took two little kids and made them feel like they were important people in someone's life. He gave my mom his unconditional support, and an ear when she needed a friend. He helped out with the chores she couldn't keep up with while she was working full time and raising two kids. He took these three broken, brittle hearts, and took them into his keeping. That phenomenal man became my mom's husband. But best of all, he became my dad.
I am thankful for all the imperfections in my life, and the imperfect people that surround me. Through all of this, with all of them, I am able to remind myself that unconditional love is better than anything else could ever be.
This Thanksgiving, I hope you all are reminded of the little things to be thankful for on a daily basis. Enjoy the turkey, but enjoy the time spent with loved ones more.
And if you find yourself with any extra pumpkin pie? Send it my way! Throw a dollop of Cool Whip on top, and you would have made me a very happy woman!
I'm thankful for so many things in my life right now. Some are everyday miracles and blessings. Some are one time shots, that have happened at just the right moment.
I am thankful for the NFL. No, really, I am. :) Every Sunday, my husband has a couple of different opportunities to sit down and bond with our sons. I watch the three of them debating the skills of different players and arguing the calls of the officials; listening in as Coach takes every chance he gets to teach them something new about the sport or the position the boys play on their own teams. I love hearing them discuss the conduct of certain players, and whether or not its sportsman-like. I don't even mind providing the endless supply of pizza rolls and chips and salsa.
I am thankful for those mornings when someone wakes up before their alarm clocks go off. These are the mornings when Coach will roll over, pull me closer to him, and just hold me. These are the mornings when Bug will climb into bed with me and snuggle, forgetting for just a little while that he's too old anymore to do that. These are the mornings when I am able to spend some quiet time with Jock, talking about how he wants his day at school to go. These are also the mornings I can just lay in bed, listening to all the sounds around me; knowing that I have one more day to love my family.
I am thankful for macaroni and cheese, for it enables me to spend precious time with my sons and husband at night instead of obsessing over what to make for dinner. It also encourages my boys to spend time with me in the kitchen, learning a valuable life skill and just hanging out.
I am thankful for the holes in the knees of Bug's jeans, and our doorbell ringing at 8:00 AM on a Saturday morning. It means that he's outside playing, having finally mastered enough control over himself and his quirks to make friends with boys that enjoy hanging out with him. He spent a rough couple of years when we first moved out here, trying so hard to fit in despite his ADHD and other inner struggles.
I am thankful for the constant texting that Jock does. For like Bug, this means he's found friends that he shares things in common with. It also is a great tool for teaching him responsibility, in a way that he's unaware of!
I am thankful that the first 9 years of my marriage were.... how to put this nicely? .... not so great. Actually, yeah, I really am. Surviving those years together, seeing what we've accomplished and the awesome kids we managed to turn out in spite of the suckiness... its amazing. Coach and I have never loved each other more, never been more supportive of each other, never been more in tune with each other. Heck... we've never even liked each other as much as we do now! I know I have a greater appreciation of the man I married. I am more able to see all that he really is, rather than all that I wanted him to be. I am able to relax in comfortable non-paranoia when he doesn't come home exactly on time. I can now be ok with him going out for a couple of hours after work with the guys, because I know that doesn't mean he doesn't want to be here. Because we lived through times together that should have sent us packing, I am able to completely and totally believe him when he tells me that his life with me is exactly where he wants to be.
I am thankful for the stubborn streak that I inherited from my mom. Every time I dig in my heels on some random issue, it reminds me that I inherited my stubbornness from her. And as long as she remains so stubborn and determined, she will keep fighting the disease that would love nothing more than to break her will. And she will keep beating it.
I am thankful for the babysitter my mom had for my brother and I when we were younger and she was newly divorced from my gene donor. That sitter had a brother that was an amazing man. He took my brother and I into his heart, and gave us the steady, loving male influence we so desperately needed. He took two little kids and made them feel like they were important people in someone's life. He gave my mom his unconditional support, and an ear when she needed a friend. He helped out with the chores she couldn't keep up with while she was working full time and raising two kids. He took these three broken, brittle hearts, and took them into his keeping. That phenomenal man became my mom's husband. But best of all, he became my dad.
I am thankful for all the imperfections in my life, and the imperfect people that surround me. Through all of this, with all of them, I am able to remind myself that unconditional love is better than anything else could ever be.
This Thanksgiving, I hope you all are reminded of the little things to be thankful for on a daily basis. Enjoy the turkey, but enjoy the time spent with loved ones more.
And if you find yourself with any extra pumpkin pie? Send it my way! Throw a dollop of Cool Whip on top, and you would have made me a very happy woman!
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
MY Top Mama
Today is MY mama's birthday.
I'm not going to share her age. She'd come kick my butt for that. Although..... that would get her here! :) Nah... still not gonna do that.
What I AM going to share are some of my favorite memories.
I don't remember too much about my life before I was about seven or so. But I do have a couple of memories that really stand out.
When I was two, I had to have an emergency appendectomy. I remember fighting the anesthesia, adamantly declaring that I had to wait for my doctor. Once I saw him, I was apparently out like a light. The next thing I know, I was in the recovery room. And there was my mama, with my favorite stuffed animal--a big, pink elephant I had *brilliantly* named Ellie. I think I would have been just as happy to see her if she hadn't brought Ellie with her.
On my seventh birthday (I think... could have been eight. I'm a bit fuzzy) I woke up to the most beautiful princess dress ever! And my mom had agreed to let me have my first slumber party, where we all ran around in our Underoos all night! :) And she made me a cake. I don't remember anything else about that birthday, or many others surrounding it, but I remember that dress and that cake.
My mom scrimped so that I could have piano lessons. I don't play piano anymore; but those lessons, combined with the hours I would spend just listening to my mama play so beautifully--and all by ear, since she didn't read music-- on that piano or on her guitar (and oh!... when she'd sing--- the angels would stop and listen it was so beautiful), gave me a love of music that I carry within my heart to this day.
My sophomore year in high school, I was starring in my very first stage production. My mama was there for the entire run, even when no one else from my family could come. When I would sing the National Anthem a capella-- and all by my lonesome--before all the school sporting events, my mom would talk the ticket booth into letting her come just inside the gates, so she could be right up front to hear me sing.
As I grew, my mama made sure I learned the lesson of managing my money. I used to be so jealous of my friends, when their parents would just buy them their cars, letter jackets and class rings; and give them money to go out. I had to earn my spending money. I made weekly payments to my parents for my first car. I paid half the cost of my letter jacket, and the full cost of my class ring. I had to have a job while I was in high school. While at the time I might have thought that wasn't fair, looking back I see what my mama was trying to teach me. Responsibility, and the ability to prioritize what was needed versus what was wanted.
While in a lot of ways, I'm a daddy's girl.... its always been my mama that I've admired and looked up to, and wanted to emulate. Without going into details, I'll tell you that my mom has had a life full of challenges--physical and emotional-- that have made her such a strong woman, when many others would have crumbled. She was a single parent long before the gene donor left, and she always put us before herself. When her body should have stopped on her, she'd just grit her teeth and keep moving forward. She's always been a believer in living for today, but planning for tomorrow, and promoting the idea that if you believe hard enough, you can make it happen for yourself.
When Coach and I first got married and found out we were pregnant, my mom was right there with her support. And after Jock was born, she was invaluable to me. We didn't have any money, Coach was working very long hours on the graveyard shift (and even when he was home it was difficult--our first few years of marriage really sucked. I don't think we really wanted to be there), the baby was taking everything from me that I could spare and then some, and I was tired. Just plain tired. I'd call her after a long, sleepless night, frustrated beyond what I thought I could bear. She'd come right over, hug me tight, bundle Jock and I up in the car, and take me to Taco Bell. In the state I was in most times, that was better than taking me to the best steak house in town.
As I've continued to grow, and raise my children, my mama has continued to be my biggest source of support, and my biggest fan. She is the first to celebrate with me when something goes right, and the first to cry with me when something goes wrong. She is often the only one who can pick up on the tone of my voice when something isn't working itself out right in my heart. And even though we are hundreds of miles apart, I know that with one phone call I will be able to feel her love and hug me.
There is so much more I could say about my mama. I haven't even touched on what an awesome grandma she is! But the internet only has so much space on it! :)
Mama... happy birthday today! I love you so much more than you will ever fully know, and I owe you so much more than I could ever repay. You have made me the woman I am today, and you know what? I really like that woman.
Thank you, Mama.
I'm not going to share her age. She'd come kick my butt for that. Although..... that would get her here! :) Nah... still not gonna do that.
What I AM going to share are some of my favorite memories.
I don't remember too much about my life before I was about seven or so. But I do have a couple of memories that really stand out.
When I was two, I had to have an emergency appendectomy. I remember fighting the anesthesia, adamantly declaring that I had to wait for my doctor. Once I saw him, I was apparently out like a light. The next thing I know, I was in the recovery room. And there was my mama, with my favorite stuffed animal--a big, pink elephant I had *brilliantly* named Ellie. I think I would have been just as happy to see her if she hadn't brought Ellie with her.
On my seventh birthday (I think... could have been eight. I'm a bit fuzzy) I woke up to the most beautiful princess dress ever! And my mom had agreed to let me have my first slumber party, where we all ran around in our Underoos all night! :) And she made me a cake. I don't remember anything else about that birthday, or many others surrounding it, but I remember that dress and that cake.
My mom scrimped so that I could have piano lessons. I don't play piano anymore; but those lessons, combined with the hours I would spend just listening to my mama play so beautifully--and all by ear, since she didn't read music-- on that piano or on her guitar (and oh!... when she'd sing--- the angels would stop and listen it was so beautiful), gave me a love of music that I carry within my heart to this day.
My sophomore year in high school, I was starring in my very first stage production. My mama was there for the entire run, even when no one else from my family could come. When I would sing the National Anthem a capella-- and all by my lonesome--before all the school sporting events, my mom would talk the ticket booth into letting her come just inside the gates, so she could be right up front to hear me sing.
As I grew, my mama made sure I learned the lesson of managing my money. I used to be so jealous of my friends, when their parents would just buy them their cars, letter jackets and class rings; and give them money to go out. I had to earn my spending money. I made weekly payments to my parents for my first car. I paid half the cost of my letter jacket, and the full cost of my class ring. I had to have a job while I was in high school. While at the time I might have thought that wasn't fair, looking back I see what my mama was trying to teach me. Responsibility, and the ability to prioritize what was needed versus what was wanted.
While in a lot of ways, I'm a daddy's girl.... its always been my mama that I've admired and looked up to, and wanted to emulate. Without going into details, I'll tell you that my mom has had a life full of challenges--physical and emotional-- that have made her such a strong woman, when many others would have crumbled. She was a single parent long before the gene donor left, and she always put us before herself. When her body should have stopped on her, she'd just grit her teeth and keep moving forward. She's always been a believer in living for today, but planning for tomorrow, and promoting the idea that if you believe hard enough, you can make it happen for yourself.
When Coach and I first got married and found out we were pregnant, my mom was right there with her support. And after Jock was born, she was invaluable to me. We didn't have any money, Coach was working very long hours on the graveyard shift (and even when he was home it was difficult--our first few years of marriage really sucked. I don't think we really wanted to be there), the baby was taking everything from me that I could spare and then some, and I was tired. Just plain tired. I'd call her after a long, sleepless night, frustrated beyond what I thought I could bear. She'd come right over, hug me tight, bundle Jock and I up in the car, and take me to Taco Bell. In the state I was in most times, that was better than taking me to the best steak house in town.
As I've continued to grow, and raise my children, my mama has continued to be my biggest source of support, and my biggest fan. She is the first to celebrate with me when something goes right, and the first to cry with me when something goes wrong. She is often the only one who can pick up on the tone of my voice when something isn't working itself out right in my heart. And even though we are hundreds of miles apart, I know that with one phone call I will be able to feel her love and hug me.
There is so much more I could say about my mama. I haven't even touched on what an awesome grandma she is! But the internet only has so much space on it! :)
Mama... happy birthday today! I love you so much more than you will ever fully know, and I owe you so much more than I could ever repay. You have made me the woman I am today, and you know what? I really like that woman.
Thank you, Mama.
Monday, November 12, 2007
Wow! Another One!
Ok. So this one might be one I've given myself. *shrug* I'm not really sure, and honestly... if I waited for my kids to do it, it would probably be awarded posthumously.
However, everyone else is allowed to vote. Sort of. I think. This might be more along the lines of driving traffic. BUT... if you click on the Top Momma button up there, and from there click on the picture of the two boys and the dog, it gets me votes in some sort of popularity contest. I mean.... it keeps my blog in the rotation for lots of exposure. ;)
Its also a great way to find more blogs to read. I know, I know. Some of you are a bit apprehensive about Mommy Blogs. But I'm tellin' ya... we're not all about bragging on our kids. At least, quite a few of us aren't. In fact, there is a large contingent of Mommy bloggers out there that have begun looking at our offspring more like blog fodder than anything else. Honestly, its like we're all raising the next generations of comic relief. Or politicians. Could be the same thing, though. :)
And today is Veteran's Day. You're all off work and looking for something to do. While I know that traditionally (and rightfully so, so please don't take offense at my next words... because I know I've mentioned in here that I come from a military family --dad: Marine Corps; Rodeo Cowboy, a.k.a. JD: Army; The Baby Brother: Navy-- and so you all know that I have total respect and love for our Armed Forces and all that they have done and continue to do for our country.) this holiday is set aside for honoring our Armed Forces, I would like to point out that all moms are Veterans, too.
When our children are babies, we fight the wars against the worst diapers and gas imaginable.
When toddlers, the war is against the constant stream of snot that never seems to stop running out of their noses.
When small children, our battles then are against the monsters in the closets and under the beds.
Once they reach school age, often our battles are internal. How many do we allow them to fight on their own before we step in?
Teenagers.... these battles are often the fiercest, hardest fought, and hardest won. The war on drugs? Begins in our own homes. The battle to convince your teenager that sex at that age really isn't everything its cracked up to be? Fought on a daily basis. This particular stage of the siege is almost always the one with the least rewards and recognition, too. Being a parent to a teenager is a very under appreciated position.
I haven't yet gotten to the next level. I have no idea how it feels to be a parent to an adult child. Or a grandparent. I can tell you, though, that having survived being a parent to a teenager, these parents deserve some awesome respect!
So, to wrap this up and tie it all together nicely.....
Its Veteran's Day. I'm a mama who's been actively fighting battles for the last 14 years. Go honor my veteran status and vote for me as a Top Momma!
Please? Pretty please? With cream and sugar on top? Maybe even a cherry?
Sunday, October 28, 2007
"Its Got To Be Scary, Mom"
That's what Bug told me tonight when we were trying to plan his costume. (Ok... I know we're a bit slow here. However, I've been trying to get him to commit to a costume idea for three weeks now.) He asked me what was the scariest thing I could think of.
I told him a teenage girl. *From the perspective of Coach and myself, since Jock has a girlfriend right now, this particular creature is incredibly frightening. Bug, however, was not amused.*
So we started throwing out ideas. Quite frankly, I wasn't really into the discussion. I was trying to do the Mommy Multi-task. All you moms out there should be familiar with this particular dance routine. Step to the fridge. Spin to the cupboard. Jump to the stove. All the while keeping up conversations with the spouse and all children present at the time. Periodically hop over the dog. In our house, we've added the "Keep an Eye on the Baseball/Football/Hockey Game Currently on TV" step. So you can see how I might not have been a super costume idea contributor.
We talked about what Jock is dressing up as when he goes out with his friends that night (a pimp-looking thing. Really, its just a fuzzy purple hat and a black and white felt cane, combined with some shiny clothes, but he likes to call it his "pimp look". Overabundance of self confidence with absolutely no sense of style... thy name is Teenager.). We talked about what I'm dressing up as for work that day (Mother Nature. I mean, how hard can it be to not do my hair, to wear clothes that just have to be comfortable not professional, to wear sandals!, and to wear a bunch of leaves, flowers and butterfly barrettes? I even got some really fun butterfly earrings!). Bug even asked his dad what he thought, but Coach... well, he's really not a Halloween sort of guy. About the only thing he really enjoys about the holiday are the movies that have been spawned.
None of these topics helped us decide what to dress Bug up as. I think we might have *almost* decided on a zombie surfer.
As long as I can make a surfboard. Cuz really, those are kind of hard to find in Arizona. :) Not too many waves in this desert, ya know?
However, since I seem to totally suck at this costume idea thing, any suggestions are welcome!
I told him a teenage girl. *From the perspective of Coach and myself, since Jock has a girlfriend right now, this particular creature is incredibly frightening. Bug, however, was not amused.*
So we started throwing out ideas. Quite frankly, I wasn't really into the discussion. I was trying to do the Mommy Multi-task. All you moms out there should be familiar with this particular dance routine. Step to the fridge. Spin to the cupboard. Jump to the stove. All the while keeping up conversations with the spouse and all children present at the time. Periodically hop over the dog. In our house, we've added the "Keep an Eye on the Baseball/Football/Hockey Game Currently on TV" step. So you can see how I might not have been a super costume idea contributor.
We talked about what Jock is dressing up as when he goes out with his friends that night (a pimp-looking thing. Really, its just a fuzzy purple hat and a black and white felt cane, combined with some shiny clothes, but he likes to call it his "pimp look". Overabundance of self confidence with absolutely no sense of style... thy name is Teenager.). We talked about what I'm dressing up as for work that day (Mother Nature. I mean, how hard can it be to not do my hair, to wear clothes that just have to be comfortable not professional, to wear sandals!, and to wear a bunch of leaves, flowers and butterfly barrettes? I even got some really fun butterfly earrings!). Bug even asked his dad what he thought, but Coach... well, he's really not a Halloween sort of guy. About the only thing he really enjoys about the holiday are the movies that have been spawned.
None of these topics helped us decide what to dress Bug up as. I think we might have *almost* decided on a zombie surfer.
As long as I can make a surfboard. Cuz really, those are kind of hard to find in Arizona. :) Not too many waves in this desert, ya know?
However, since I seem to totally suck at this costume idea thing, any suggestions are welcome!
Saturday, October 27, 2007
In Honor of Halloween
Oh. My. Gawd.
Guess my family had better hope this never happens. Sheesh. Although, they'd probably do much better than I did. I was too busy thinking of other people to give myself much of a chance.
Who am I kidding? I'd probably be their first sacrifice.
"Its what Mom would have wanted. To die knowing that she was giving us those last precious minutes to escape."
40%
Guess my family had better hope this never happens. Sheesh. Although, they'd probably do much better than I did. I was too busy thinking of other people to give myself much of a chance.
Who am I kidding? I'd probably be their first sacrifice.
"Its what Mom would have wanted. To die knowing that she was giving us those last precious minutes to escape."
40%
So... how'd you do?
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