The kids' school has been fundraising for a new play ground. And, one of the fund raisers was a Mother Son Dance, that took place last night. I thought this was such a sweet idea, and immediately decided to try and get off of work, or out early, to attend this with Joe. I also decided to buy him a rose to wear on his vest. This was going to be so sweet! So, $5.00 for the ticket, and we were good to go.
I didn't have anything to wear, so, there was an additional $50.00 for a dress. After presenting my boss with a detailed note as to why I wanted the day off, and staffing numbers for the day; she said I still needed to come in and work 4 hours. Okay. So, I ordered Joe's flower for pickup on my way home.
Arrive at work yesterday morning, and, We are over staffed! So, I have awesome co-workers who voted to let me go home. $25.00 in gas.
Remember that I have no dress shoes, and grab a pair in the right size that look about right, in the store at work, on my way out the door. $20.00
Go home, and, a few hours later, double back 18 miles, to get Joe's flower. Take George, who is reminded and begged, to please go potty before we leave. Nope. Doesn't have to go. Get 3/4 of the way there; guess who is crying and begging to pee RIGHT NOW!!!! Of course.
Swing into my friend, Becky's house, and go running through her door, pushing George ahead of me, yelling, "Sorry Beck! He's gotta pee!!!" On my way through. Becky is my best friend since I was 18, and, even though I haven't actually seen her in the better part of a year, she stepped aside in total understanding. She's awesome that way.
Stay to visit, because, we were there, and had the time, and it's always fun. Suddenly realize we need to leave this minute, or we will be late picking the kids up from school. And discover that my glasses are gone. Gone, gone. As in, nowhere. As in, this is catastrophic. As in, I have to drive to Buffalo for the next three days, and work 12.5 hour shifts, and I CANNOT not have my glasses. This is not okay. But, I need to go, and cannot look for them any longer. Tear my purse, truck and nursing bag apart; no glasses. Call the eye glass place in a panic, and describe my predicament. They are able to fit me in at 4:45. The dance is at 5:30. Okay. We can do this. Round trip gas money? $10.00
Back to Franklinville, pick up the kids, rush home, get into full evening gear, don dress, and realize; I have a farmer's tan. And a strappy shoulder gown. And I look alltogether ridiculous. And this dress looked way better in the flattering lights of the store. Oh no. Now what do I do?? I don't have time for anything else. So, I decide to roll with it, and head down to do hair and makeup and all that. Put together, I tell Joe to get ready to get in the truck, realize it's pouring rain, and grab my umbrella. Put on the shoes that I had just bought that morning and realize they are the highest heels I have ever owned. I mean, these things were HIGH. And, my feet were at an angle normaly achieved only by ballarenas after years of training. Completely vertical. I wear sneakers, or I am barefoot. I rarely do heels. I absolutely do not ever wear heels that make me look like I am walking en pointe. OMG!!!! What am I going to DO??? What CAN I do? I need to get to the eye doctor's. So, tippy toeing out the doorin these shoes, thru the rain we go, lurching and clutching onto whatever I can find, while trying to pretend I am completely confident, and in complete control of the situation, and walk on heels way higher than this every day. In my head, I was sure it looked like I owned those heels, with a confident swagger. In reality, I probably resembled a drunken zoo animal with silly tan lines.
Arrive at the eye doctor, in full evening wear, tottering in while desperately trying not to be obvious, while I looked for things to grab as I walked. Present my new insrance card, and get called to the side. That is NEVER a good thing.
Good news and bad news, Moriah.
Hell.
You have amazing insurance! Covers EVERYTHING! Designer frames, lenses, all the bells and whistles.
But?
We cannot make them here. It will take 7-10 days.
NO!!!!
BUT! We can cut you a great deal on glasses that can be ready tomorrow!
UGH. How much?
Only $164.99!
Okay. I will take them both. I am always losing glasses.
Yes, pipes in Joe, She is literaly always losing her glasses. You need to sell her a special case for them. And maybe a chain, to wear around her neck. You need to sell her everything you have, literaly, or, she will just keep losing her glasses.
Your mom is a loser, huh? Always losing stuff? Sympathizes the glasses seller.
Yes. Literaly.
What about contacts? She asks me
I just cannot make myself put my fingers in my eyes. I tried a few years ago. It was pretty traumatic. I need glasses.
So. It was decided I needed a stronger prescription, and the specticals were ordered, and my poor over used bank card was swiped once again.
And, it was another $10.00 in gas.
Mom, this IS a date, right?
Yes, Joe.
Don't you think we should do dinner then? I was thinking Burger King...
Another $10.00
Off to the dance.
Run through the rain, get inside, and line up to have our picture taken. And, it's our turn. And the photograper bagan to look worried.
Ummmm. Okay. Maybe we can have joe sit on a stool in front of you? Hmmm. No, no. Try kneeling, Joe. No. nnnnno. Ummm. Okay. Well. Let's try to get a chair for mom...
It's the silly shoes, isn't it? I can take them off...
No no. Here. Sit. Oh God. Well. Hmmm. Ummmmm. Okay. Joe, you sit here, on the stool next to Mom.
Oh no. Do I really look THAT bad?? (No one else had these problems. No one.)
No no, of course.....not. Ummm. Okay. Well. Hmmm. Okay, lets just keep taking puctures.... Joe. Please stop moving. Okay. OH MY GOD! Oh. Wow. Well. We can just keep taking pictures, but.......
Wow. These are just awful. Hmmm. I just don't know what to do. I never ever photo shop, and don't know how to, but, I will find someone, and we will just try to find a good one of you, and one where Joe is not moving, and try and put them together... I just. Wow. I just don't know what else to do..... Ummm.
Oh for heaven's sake. Do what you can, or skip it all together. I'm good either way. I say, and hop up, trying to ignore that line of curious mothers, and feeling completely awful looking. This day just needs to end. I need to find a fairy God Mother. I need to go home and see if there is any cooking wine left. I never ever take good pictures. Ever.
Joe spent a good portion of the dance in the corner eating candy, looking uncomfortable. The rose didn't last long, before the pins were poking him, so, that came off. About half an hour before it all ended, he relaxed, and started to have fun. He even slow danced with me TWICE. And I tried so hard, to ignore all the cameras flashing at us. I cannot even think about where those pictures may end up. I really cannot. I looked that awful.
The Grand Total for the day?
$294.99
Trying not to cry, while dancing with the cutest almost 8 year old ever, while "Don't Ever Grow Up" played, as he informed me I was the most Beautiful Mom ever? Absolutely Priceless.
Saturday, May 11, 2013
Sunday, May 5, 2013
Small Town Baseball Season.
Baseball/Softball season has struck once again. When signing Kaila and Joe up, the vague thought was in the back of my head that, I am one person, with two kids on two different teams, and I work very far away, and on those days I work, I am not home untill after they go to bed. How did I plan on getting these children to where they need to be? I figured I would address the issue when it came up.
I have come to realize, with our work schedules, that I live the life of a single Mom, without actually being single. Not sure how I feel about that? I rarely see this person whom, according to pictures and documentaion, I married almost 15 years ago. Last I knew, he had somewhere along the way, grown a rather bushy and large red beard. I'm not sure when that happened. One day, we happened to be home at the same time, and I hardly recognized this person on my porch. Does one let strange bearded men, who look like they just survived the last 4 years lost in the wilderness, enter one's home, just because they claim to be the Father of your children? He looks like a misplaced leprachaun, this man who insists he resides at the same address. I am only slightly aware that sometimes, in the middle of the night, some person with perpetualy cold feet, crawls into bed, shortly before I crawl out of it. But seriously, if whomever it is, is not otherwise requiring my immediate attention; I don't normaly care. It could be the Boogy Man, and, if he wasn't bothering me; he may rest there undisturbed by this writer. I take sleep when I can get it, these days.
Anyhow, back on track, it's just the kids and me. And it's baseball season. And, we're managing. And, being a small town, there are always amazing people out there, who are willing and able to let your kid ride along with them, when the parents of the year here, are unable to make games or practices. Those games and practices that I am always completely unprepared for.
Every other Mom there always comes armed with bug spray, sun block, drinks, snacks, and toys for the younger siblings. They remember folding chairs, blankets and extra jackets. I am the mom that sits freezing on the bleachers telling my frozen children that they are only cold because they are not running enough. And that no child ever died from dehydration with only an hour without water in 70 degree weather. Well. Maybe 70 degrees. No matter what the tempurature is at home, it is always at least 50 degrees hotter or colder than it is anywhere else. There is no point in preparing. If the thermometer reads 75, it will probably be 35 with whipping winds, down at the baseball fields. Or 110 with 100% humidity. I rock at this whole parenting thing. I promised Lexi $30.00 at the end of ball season, if she would watch George at all games and practices, and take him to playgrounds at whatever park we end up at. Actually, I told her $20.00, but, she pointed out that there are TWO kids on ball teams, and therefore, she wanted $40.00. We settled on $30.00. Gotta respect the thought process there.
No matter what the work schedules, the kids seem to have adjusted to them very well. As evidenced by the pre-dawn conversation yesterday:
MOM! ARE YOU HOME??
Yes George. Stop yelling, you're going to wake everybody up.
(Head appears at my bedside.)
I didn't miss you when you were at work. And I don't like kisses.
Go back to bed, George.
I'm starving, I don't think I feel good, I have to go potty, you need to feed me. Time to get up.
I should kiss you.
Yuck. I hate kisses.
I know.
Get up!
Can I beat you, then?
No. I changed my name to Joe. And my butt is all gone. It fell off last night.
Oh good! I needed to beat Joe today anyway. May as well get it out of the way. C'mere.
My name is George. And I missed you so much, and I love kisses. Can you pleeeaaaaase get up with me?
I suppose so.
Glad to know they are not pining away for their Mother.
In other news, we (by "we", I mean that guy with the red beard who keeps insisting he lives with us. May as well make himself usefull, right?) have been scraping the house. It needs to be re-painted this summer. This is something we knew needed to be done, and have been juggling possible paint colors for some time now. The choice at the time of this decision was painting the house red, with black trim, and a butter colored front door. Oh my goodness. Some people loved the idea, and some absolutely hated it. I began to have self doubts. What if we painted it red, and it started to fade, like a barn? What if we hated it? What if it looked dumb? What if, what if, what if?? So, I started to look at other colors. Jasin liked blue. But, we live next to a blue house. There was this color called "Quail" I liked, but, how boring! Kaila and I found this nice sage green, with eggplant trim, but, again, what if it looked awful? And, over the years, the house has been painted lots of times. And, it always seems to end up some shade of green. I almost think the house WANTS to be green. Do I really want to make it mad? I've read the occasional horror story, and seen the occasional horror movie. One does not anger one's house. Kind of throws a whole new dimention in there, doesn't it? (Good Catholic girl that I am. My Mother would smack me silly if she read that. Thank goodness she does not read my Blog.) The internet was NO help. Every other thing I read contradicted every other thing written. A friend told me it cannot be a light color; those attract bugs. And look dirty. I dream in paint swatches currently. And, in the back of my head, I keep in mind the perpetual twinkle lights around my front door. Would the color look good with twinkle lights and the black eyed susans in the front garden? Would the color look good with Christmas lights? At this point, I cannot wait to see what color it ends up. I'm pretty sure the bearded guy isn't going to re-paint it if I hate it, so, here's hoping it looks good!
I have come to realize, with our work schedules, that I live the life of a single Mom, without actually being single. Not sure how I feel about that? I rarely see this person whom, according to pictures and documentaion, I married almost 15 years ago. Last I knew, he had somewhere along the way, grown a rather bushy and large red beard. I'm not sure when that happened. One day, we happened to be home at the same time, and I hardly recognized this person on my porch. Does one let strange bearded men, who look like they just survived the last 4 years lost in the wilderness, enter one's home, just because they claim to be the Father of your children? He looks like a misplaced leprachaun, this man who insists he resides at the same address. I am only slightly aware that sometimes, in the middle of the night, some person with perpetualy cold feet, crawls into bed, shortly before I crawl out of it. But seriously, if whomever it is, is not otherwise requiring my immediate attention; I don't normaly care. It could be the Boogy Man, and, if he wasn't bothering me; he may rest there undisturbed by this writer. I take sleep when I can get it, these days.
Anyhow, back on track, it's just the kids and me. And it's baseball season. And, we're managing. And, being a small town, there are always amazing people out there, who are willing and able to let your kid ride along with them, when the parents of the year here, are unable to make games or practices. Those games and practices that I am always completely unprepared for.
Every other Mom there always comes armed with bug spray, sun block, drinks, snacks, and toys for the younger siblings. They remember folding chairs, blankets and extra jackets. I am the mom that sits freezing on the bleachers telling my frozen children that they are only cold because they are not running enough. And that no child ever died from dehydration with only an hour without water in 70 degree weather. Well. Maybe 70 degrees. No matter what the tempurature is at home, it is always at least 50 degrees hotter or colder than it is anywhere else. There is no point in preparing. If the thermometer reads 75, it will probably be 35 with whipping winds, down at the baseball fields. Or 110 with 100% humidity. I rock at this whole parenting thing. I promised Lexi $30.00 at the end of ball season, if she would watch George at all games and practices, and take him to playgrounds at whatever park we end up at. Actually, I told her $20.00, but, she pointed out that there are TWO kids on ball teams, and therefore, she wanted $40.00. We settled on $30.00. Gotta respect the thought process there.
No matter what the work schedules, the kids seem to have adjusted to them very well. As evidenced by the pre-dawn conversation yesterday:
MOM! ARE YOU HOME??
Yes George. Stop yelling, you're going to wake everybody up.
(Head appears at my bedside.)
I didn't miss you when you were at work. And I don't like kisses.
Go back to bed, George.
I'm starving, I don't think I feel good, I have to go potty, you need to feed me. Time to get up.
I should kiss you.
Yuck. I hate kisses.
I know.
Get up!
Can I beat you, then?
No. I changed my name to Joe. And my butt is all gone. It fell off last night.
Oh good! I needed to beat Joe today anyway. May as well get it out of the way. C'mere.
My name is George. And I missed you so much, and I love kisses. Can you pleeeaaaaase get up with me?
I suppose so.
Glad to know they are not pining away for their Mother.
In other news, we (by "we", I mean that guy with the red beard who keeps insisting he lives with us. May as well make himself usefull, right?) have been scraping the house. It needs to be re-painted this summer. This is something we knew needed to be done, and have been juggling possible paint colors for some time now. The choice at the time of this decision was painting the house red, with black trim, and a butter colored front door. Oh my goodness. Some people loved the idea, and some absolutely hated it. I began to have self doubts. What if we painted it red, and it started to fade, like a barn? What if we hated it? What if it looked dumb? What if, what if, what if?? So, I started to look at other colors. Jasin liked blue. But, we live next to a blue house. There was this color called "Quail" I liked, but, how boring! Kaila and I found this nice sage green, with eggplant trim, but, again, what if it looked awful? And, over the years, the house has been painted lots of times. And, it always seems to end up some shade of green. I almost think the house WANTS to be green. Do I really want to make it mad? I've read the occasional horror story, and seen the occasional horror movie. One does not anger one's house. Kind of throws a whole new dimention in there, doesn't it? (Good Catholic girl that I am. My Mother would smack me silly if she read that. Thank goodness she does not read my Blog.) The internet was NO help. Every other thing I read contradicted every other thing written. A friend told me it cannot be a light color; those attract bugs. And look dirty. I dream in paint swatches currently. And, in the back of my head, I keep in mind the perpetual twinkle lights around my front door. Would the color look good with twinkle lights and the black eyed susans in the front garden? Would the color look good with Christmas lights? At this point, I cannot wait to see what color it ends up. I'm pretty sure the bearded guy isn't going to re-paint it if I hate it, so, here's hoping it looks good!
Sunday, April 28, 2013
Why do we get dressed up for appointments we need to get naked for?
It has been a busy week in this Mama's household, culminating with the Annual Maple Fest in our town this weekend. Which I took an entire day off to attend. 2 of my kids were in the parade, and I had signed up to help out at the Cub Scout booth for a few hours.
First, though, I had to go see the MD. I figured everyone I live and work with is probably tired of hearing me whine about how awful I feel all the time. And, I was getting tired of people telling me how terrible I look. I may have put this off for a few months with the excuse that, it is really illness that has me looking so bad, and not the possibility that, maybe it isn't... Hmmm.
Which calls to mind the title of this post. Why DO we get all dressed up for appointments in which we know darn well the MD is only going to see us in a gown anyhow? Maybe it's a subconscious thing. If we FEEL okay and all spiffed up, then, we must BE okay? Who knows. Off to the Doctor I went. In which the entire appointment was inconclusive, tests were ordered, and the doctor finally said: "Moriah, I think you are exhausted and stressed out, and it's making you sick. Go on vacation! ALONE!"
Until insurance starts to cover those, lets see if it's something else, first, shall we? Anyhow, two weeks of various tests, and another dress-up follow up appointment to go. In which I will likely be given a clean bill of health and told to get more sleep. Ah well.
On the way out of the MD office, I happened to notice a neighbor in the waiting room. Not sure if she happened to see me or not. However, I am hoping she didn't. As, one of the babysitters stopped by yesterday and mentioned that George has been telling her his Mama is having a baby. I can only imagine how many people the little darling has mentioned this to. And, seeing a neighbor in that particular office probably didn't help stall the rumors the little monster is starting. NO. Mama is NOT having another baby.
On to more fun things. Yesterday we spent the day doing various Maple Fest related activities. Beginning with the Annual Library Book Sale. In which a small crowd gathers outside the library early, and older women wander in right before the doors are unlocked, and hip check their way thru the doors first, on the way to the Harlequin section. No one was hurt in the initial stampede, and Kaila made it past the most aggressive woman charging for the door. I should have probably lectured Kaila on manners and respect a little more than I did, but, at those sales; it's the survival of the fittest.
I had also signed up to assist at the Boy Scout booth with Joe. I had done so, completely intending to volunteer Jasin for the help. However, Joe insisted he needed to choose which parent came with him, and after careful consideration, chose myself, as I had given birth to him. I insisted I would not be AT ALL put out, if Daddy went, instead, male bonding and all that, but, he was clear; Mom must attend.
Once the Scout Master had 10 minutes to spare, I was told about the first camping trip of the season. It takes place next weekend. WHAT? I have to work, but, we'll figure it out somehow. Then, I was told about the next camping trip, in which the application needed to be in by May 1st. You know, three days from now? THAT day. And, then I was handed the application, which included some complex calculations and percentages of sales made, minus camp cost, minus scout contribution, how many children live in the household, and parent's occupations. Whew.
I do need to chat with Joe about camping expectations, however. He is under the impression that he will truly be roughing it. Including hunting and fishing for his own food, foraging for shoots and berries, and setting up his own tent, making fire, and pretty much going out into the wilderness alone armed with a Swiss army knife, some matches, a tent and sleeping bag, with Dad along to tote a gun, which Joe will probably have to use to shoot dinner or errant bears with. I am afraid he will be a smidgen disappointed when it isn't quite so untamed, and that he will likely need to leave firearms at home.
I did tell him the camping trip ends with a family dinner, followed by a skit the scouts put on, according to the Scout Master.
"What is this 'skit'?"
"The Scout Master said it's where all the packs put on a show, and do a song or a play or something like that."
"And this is supposed to teach me survival, how?"
"Joe. Roll with it. It's your first year. I don't think anyone expects the Cub Scouts to be left in the wilds alone to fend for themselves and live off the land for 4 days. You will have lots of fun, not have to kill, gut, or clean anything, or even start fires with two rocks. One step at a time, kiddo. Maybe next year they will will expect you to wrestle bears. This year, I expect a craft made from Popsicle sticks and yarn, okay?"
"Fine." he grudgingly agreed.
In all honesty, I am certain he will have an amazing time. Just watching him at the festival, selling candy bars with his friends and fellow scouts, he was having such a good time. It was so a-la "Sand Lot" that I didn't want the day to end for him. Scouts are good for my Joe.
The most common thing I heard all day, was, "Where's George?" "Hey! That's George!" "How ya doing, George?" As my 3 yr old wandered around in a baseball cap, jeans and his 'Cars' tee shirt. He looked adorable, and behaved pretty well, considering. He's aware he needs to toe the line. The other night, after working, and completing a million things at home, I kicked back in my recliner, sipping ginger ale for the ever present nausea anymore, and ignoring everything I needed to get done, just scrolling through Facebook. I happen to run across a post along the lines of; "Whoever's little kids those are on First Avenue, better hope they don't throw stuff at the wrong vehicle, or Mom and Dad are going to have some angry people pounding on their door..."
SNAP!!!! Went the recliner, as my feet hit the floor. "WERE YOU GUYS THROWING THINGS AT PASSING VEHICLES TODAY???!!!!!!"
"GEORGE!!! It was George! I swear, Mom! It was George, and we made him stop!" The older three were pretty quick to throw their brother under that particular bus.
"And I hit 'em, too, Mom!" George proudly announced. "Are you going to burn my buns?"
Anyhow, that's the excitement around here. Thankfully George was stopped before law enforcement was called.
First, though, I had to go see the MD. I figured everyone I live and work with is probably tired of hearing me whine about how awful I feel all the time. And, I was getting tired of people telling me how terrible I look. I may have put this off for a few months with the excuse that, it is really illness that has me looking so bad, and not the possibility that, maybe it isn't... Hmmm.
Which calls to mind the title of this post. Why DO we get all dressed up for appointments in which we know darn well the MD is only going to see us in a gown anyhow? Maybe it's a subconscious thing. If we FEEL okay and all spiffed up, then, we must BE okay? Who knows. Off to the Doctor I went. In which the entire appointment was inconclusive, tests were ordered, and the doctor finally said: "Moriah, I think you are exhausted and stressed out, and it's making you sick. Go on vacation! ALONE!"
Until insurance starts to cover those, lets see if it's something else, first, shall we? Anyhow, two weeks of various tests, and another dress-up follow up appointment to go. In which I will likely be given a clean bill of health and told to get more sleep. Ah well.
On the way out of the MD office, I happened to notice a neighbor in the waiting room. Not sure if she happened to see me or not. However, I am hoping she didn't. As, one of the babysitters stopped by yesterday and mentioned that George has been telling her his Mama is having a baby. I can only imagine how many people the little darling has mentioned this to. And, seeing a neighbor in that particular office probably didn't help stall the rumors the little monster is starting. NO. Mama is NOT having another baby.
On to more fun things. Yesterday we spent the day doing various Maple Fest related activities. Beginning with the Annual Library Book Sale. In which a small crowd gathers outside the library early, and older women wander in right before the doors are unlocked, and hip check their way thru the doors first, on the way to the Harlequin section. No one was hurt in the initial stampede, and Kaila made it past the most aggressive woman charging for the door. I should have probably lectured Kaila on manners and respect a little more than I did, but, at those sales; it's the survival of the fittest.
I had also signed up to assist at the Boy Scout booth with Joe. I had done so, completely intending to volunteer Jasin for the help. However, Joe insisted he needed to choose which parent came with him, and after careful consideration, chose myself, as I had given birth to him. I insisted I would not be AT ALL put out, if Daddy went, instead, male bonding and all that, but, he was clear; Mom must attend.
Once the Scout Master had 10 minutes to spare, I was told about the first camping trip of the season. It takes place next weekend. WHAT? I have to work, but, we'll figure it out somehow. Then, I was told about the next camping trip, in which the application needed to be in by May 1st. You know, three days from now? THAT day. And, then I was handed the application, which included some complex calculations and percentages of sales made, minus camp cost, minus scout contribution, how many children live in the household, and parent's occupations. Whew.
I do need to chat with Joe about camping expectations, however. He is under the impression that he will truly be roughing it. Including hunting and fishing for his own food, foraging for shoots and berries, and setting up his own tent, making fire, and pretty much going out into the wilderness alone armed with a Swiss army knife, some matches, a tent and sleeping bag, with Dad along to tote a gun, which Joe will probably have to use to shoot dinner or errant bears with. I am afraid he will be a smidgen disappointed when it isn't quite so untamed, and that he will likely need to leave firearms at home.
I did tell him the camping trip ends with a family dinner, followed by a skit the scouts put on, according to the Scout Master.
"What is this 'skit'?"
"The Scout Master said it's where all the packs put on a show, and do a song or a play or something like that."
"And this is supposed to teach me survival, how?"
"Joe. Roll with it. It's your first year. I don't think anyone expects the Cub Scouts to be left in the wilds alone to fend for themselves and live off the land for 4 days. You will have lots of fun, not have to kill, gut, or clean anything, or even start fires with two rocks. One step at a time, kiddo. Maybe next year they will will expect you to wrestle bears. This year, I expect a craft made from Popsicle sticks and yarn, okay?"
"Fine." he grudgingly agreed.
In all honesty, I am certain he will have an amazing time. Just watching him at the festival, selling candy bars with his friends and fellow scouts, he was having such a good time. It was so a-la "Sand Lot" that I didn't want the day to end for him. Scouts are good for my Joe.
The most common thing I heard all day, was, "Where's George?" "Hey! That's George!" "How ya doing, George?" As my 3 yr old wandered around in a baseball cap, jeans and his 'Cars' tee shirt. He looked adorable, and behaved pretty well, considering. He's aware he needs to toe the line. The other night, after working, and completing a million things at home, I kicked back in my recliner, sipping ginger ale for the ever present nausea anymore, and ignoring everything I needed to get done, just scrolling through Facebook. I happen to run across a post along the lines of; "Whoever's little kids those are on First Avenue, better hope they don't throw stuff at the wrong vehicle, or Mom and Dad are going to have some angry people pounding on their door..."
SNAP!!!! Went the recliner, as my feet hit the floor. "WERE YOU GUYS THROWING THINGS AT PASSING VEHICLES TODAY???!!!!!!"
"GEORGE!!! It was George! I swear, Mom! It was George, and we made him stop!" The older three were pretty quick to throw their brother under that particular bus.
"And I hit 'em, too, Mom!" George proudly announced. "Are you going to burn my buns?"
Anyhow, that's the excitement around here. Thankfully George was stopped before law enforcement was called.
Saturday, April 20, 2013
Earth Mama Srikes Again
So, every once in awhile, I go through the whole 'Earth Mother' phase. It usually does not last too long, and is out of my system before too much trauma and damage happens. And, I think this may be the longest phase yet. I blame Pinterest and Facebook. There is always so much darn pressure to simplify, to go all natural, chemical free, homemade everything.... I feel guilty every time I enter a grocery store anymore. My kids take bottled water to school, and not even THAT is safe anymore. I could pour it into handy dandy safe bottles, but, realisticly, my kids would lose them. So, what's a Mama to do? I decided to start a garden. The idea was charming. (Isn't that a nice word? Charming is the exact perfect fit, for my thoughts on this garden.) My imagination ran wild. I pictured an innocent story book watercolor, of my wonderful children - probably wearing white sun dresses and denim overalls, respectively - watching and nurturing the miracle of seed to produce. I pictured this beautiful, perfect garden, bountiful and weed free, with the kids helping carefully pull weeds, and integrated into my backyard to blend well and look like it belonged. I pictured a nice little herb garden, so I might have fresh, home grown herbs, to season and flavor all this non-poisonous goodness, which would finally give me at least one area of my life to not feel gulty about. Picture Little House on the Prarie, if you will. I even announced to Jasin that I wanted to learn how to can things this year! I would go berry picking, and make jams, jellies and preserves. I would freeze some, and capture it all at the peak of perfection! I would make spaghetti sauce, can tomatoes, beans, corn and everything! I have a canning book that has all sorts of canning recipies, and was amazed. I wouldn't have to go grocery shopping ever again. I began to imagine this perfect little pantry lined with sparkling jars of the fruits of my labor. Look at all that healthy goodness.
Wasn't that a nicec mental picture? So, I went and bought a few packets of seeds, and some seed starting trays. We could go to a nursary and buy plants for the rest around Memorial Day. We started our seeds, which took off beautifuly. And, I called my Dad, who was always an avid gardener when we were growing up.
Dad! I started my garden! I planted peas!
WHAT? You are just planting them NOW? Ri, you should have had those in last month!
Dad. I had two feet of snow in my back yard last month. I still have snow in my back yard.
Doesn't matter, Ri! Peas like cold weather. Plant them outside!
Well, they are started, so, they are technically planted and starting, Dad, right?
GET THEM OUTSIDE SOON!
Okay, okay! I will plant them outside my next day off. I also started beets and carrots, too...
WHAT?? Get them outside!! They all need to be planted now, or they wont grow! Ah hell. Maybe I should come over there and help.
No no! I swear, I will plant them all as soon as possible. Thanks, Dad.
Lord. This wasn't starting well. Not at all. Okay, I will plant them all very soon. And the onions, too. Thank goodness I didn't tell him about the onions. A few days later I recieve a text from my Dad (I will never get used to my 82 yr old Dad texting us. Never.) The text reads "Your brother couldn't plant his peas last month, due to snow, but the Italian guy next to the neighbor planted his peas."
The Italian guy? I assured him I would plant them very soon.
The other day, the weather was perfect, and I had run out of excuses. Time to plant the peas. And carrots, beets and onions. Right after dinner.
I hear a commotion out front, on my way to collect the kids for this bonding, amazing, miraculous experience, and see the next door neighbor out front, with a very nice young couple. I learned that the current neighbors had sold their home to this nice young couple with a 2 yr old son, and another on the way in June. Awww! How sweet! George will have a friend! I turn, and find George tormenting the poor new 2 yr old. OMG, how embarassing. I tell this nice young mother that my girls also are good in a pinch, if she needed a hand with toddler and baby. This came out of my mouth a milisecond before Kaila screamed, "GET OUT OF MY WAY, MAGGOT FACE!!!!" to one of her siblings. Seriously. I hoped this wasn't going to be a contender in the sale of this house. In general chitchat, I say we are headed out back, to plant peas. The old next door neighbor tells me there is a monster sized wood chuck out back. It lives right next to where I'm going to plant my peas. The old neighbor tells me they had to wrap wire fencing around thier garden last summer, because of the wood chuck. I laughed, remembering a hysterical phone call from her, begging me to get Jasin to shoot it.
"Dont worry, if you see a man with a gun out back, and hear gunshots, it's just Jasin!" Announces old neighbor, as new neighbor begins rubbing her pregnant belly (I'm sure it was a purely maternal thing, and not terror, trepadition or second thoughts AT ALL. I don't think for a MINUTE that she wondered if we weren't the reason for the old neighbors moving. Not even when I announced I had a dream about the old neighbor's husband putting barbed wire on the fence between our back yards. I probably wouldn't want to live next to us either.), and I go rescue her 2 yr old from George again. Well. That went well. C'mon kids, lets get these stupid peas planted.
45 minutes of digging through rocks, and attempting to plant peas, with my kids losing interest after 15 minutes, right next to the home of Monster Wood Chuck, all of us covered head to toe in mud and dirt, and the whole Earth Mother thing was wearing off. I began to think along the lines of germs. Maybe my kids SHOULD eat things from the store. Maybe they need to build an immunity to whatever is put in those foods. Maybe if they eat no chemically enhanced foods, they won't have an immunity, and, when they DO eat them, they will get sick. Was I doing a disserrvice? Oh, who knows anymore. It's not like I'm feeding my kids peas anyway. The monster under the shed next door would eat them all, and this was an exhusting waste of time. I should have just chucked them all at the old/new neighbor's shed and been done with it. Poor peas. They didn't have a chance. Maybe I would shoot the wood chuck. Then I wouldn't have to have my huge garden look ugly, all surrounded by chichen wire fencing. This entire thing was a bad idea.
At this point, we were filthy and tired, and, possibly a spectacle for the neighbors. The old neighbor's husband was probably dancing a jig someplace, at the thought of being rid of us, and our dog who barks at him. The kids remind me about carrots, beets and onions. Lord. Where the heck am I even going to plant them? We aren't even going to dig the garden till Memorial Day-ish.
The rest of the stuff still has not been planted. I haven't looked at the peas lately, but, they were still there last time I looked. My Dad said they like the cold, so I am sure the rain that turned into ice and then snow overnight was a treat for them. I will have amazing peas, right?
My friend, Sue, is excited about my thoughts on canning, and now I have a canning buddy. I don't have the heart to tell her those visions went away with the peas. Jasin is on board now, too. He ordered 2 tents. Between canning and tents and his hunting and fishing skills, we can absolutely live off the land and be survivalists if we have to. We can? All this over a garden and peas. I would say that somehow it came to our attention that our zonings laws allow chickens in the village, but, I should probably wait untill the closing papers on the house next door are signed. If Jasin could smuggle a milk cow into the back yard, he absolutely would.
Someday, my kids will laugh about these things during family get togethers during the holidays. Or, privately together, out of my earshot. I'm not sure if it will be with laughing tolerance of their crazy Mom, or, with concerns, and an outside professional, to discuss the private vs semi private status of my new housing in an institution.
Wasn't that a nicec mental picture? So, I went and bought a few packets of seeds, and some seed starting trays. We could go to a nursary and buy plants for the rest around Memorial Day. We started our seeds, which took off beautifuly. And, I called my Dad, who was always an avid gardener when we were growing up.
Dad! I started my garden! I planted peas!
WHAT? You are just planting them NOW? Ri, you should have had those in last month!
Dad. I had two feet of snow in my back yard last month. I still have snow in my back yard.
Doesn't matter, Ri! Peas like cold weather. Plant them outside!
Well, they are started, so, they are technically planted and starting, Dad, right?
GET THEM OUTSIDE SOON!
Okay, okay! I will plant them outside my next day off. I also started beets and carrots, too...
WHAT?? Get them outside!! They all need to be planted now, or they wont grow! Ah hell. Maybe I should come over there and help.
No no! I swear, I will plant them all as soon as possible. Thanks, Dad.
Lord. This wasn't starting well. Not at all. Okay, I will plant them all very soon. And the onions, too. Thank goodness I didn't tell him about the onions. A few days later I recieve a text from my Dad (I will never get used to my 82 yr old Dad texting us. Never.) The text reads "Your brother couldn't plant his peas last month, due to snow, but the Italian guy next to the neighbor planted his peas."
The Italian guy? I assured him I would plant them very soon.
The other day, the weather was perfect, and I had run out of excuses. Time to plant the peas. And carrots, beets and onions. Right after dinner.
I hear a commotion out front, on my way to collect the kids for this bonding, amazing, miraculous experience, and see the next door neighbor out front, with a very nice young couple. I learned that the current neighbors had sold their home to this nice young couple with a 2 yr old son, and another on the way in June. Awww! How sweet! George will have a friend! I turn, and find George tormenting the poor new 2 yr old. OMG, how embarassing. I tell this nice young mother that my girls also are good in a pinch, if she needed a hand with toddler and baby. This came out of my mouth a milisecond before Kaila screamed, "GET OUT OF MY WAY, MAGGOT FACE!!!!" to one of her siblings. Seriously. I hoped this wasn't going to be a contender in the sale of this house. In general chitchat, I say we are headed out back, to plant peas. The old next door neighbor tells me there is a monster sized wood chuck out back. It lives right next to where I'm going to plant my peas. The old neighbor tells me they had to wrap wire fencing around thier garden last summer, because of the wood chuck. I laughed, remembering a hysterical phone call from her, begging me to get Jasin to shoot it.
"Dont worry, if you see a man with a gun out back, and hear gunshots, it's just Jasin!" Announces old neighbor, as new neighbor begins rubbing her pregnant belly (I'm sure it was a purely maternal thing, and not terror, trepadition or second thoughts AT ALL. I don't think for a MINUTE that she wondered if we weren't the reason for the old neighbors moving. Not even when I announced I had a dream about the old neighbor's husband putting barbed wire on the fence between our back yards. I probably wouldn't want to live next to us either.), and I go rescue her 2 yr old from George again. Well. That went well. C'mon kids, lets get these stupid peas planted.
45 minutes of digging through rocks, and attempting to plant peas, with my kids losing interest after 15 minutes, right next to the home of Monster Wood Chuck, all of us covered head to toe in mud and dirt, and the whole Earth Mother thing was wearing off. I began to think along the lines of germs. Maybe my kids SHOULD eat things from the store. Maybe they need to build an immunity to whatever is put in those foods. Maybe if they eat no chemically enhanced foods, they won't have an immunity, and, when they DO eat them, they will get sick. Was I doing a disserrvice? Oh, who knows anymore. It's not like I'm feeding my kids peas anyway. The monster under the shed next door would eat them all, and this was an exhusting waste of time. I should have just chucked them all at the old/new neighbor's shed and been done with it. Poor peas. They didn't have a chance. Maybe I would shoot the wood chuck. Then I wouldn't have to have my huge garden look ugly, all surrounded by chichen wire fencing. This entire thing was a bad idea.
At this point, we were filthy and tired, and, possibly a spectacle for the neighbors. The old neighbor's husband was probably dancing a jig someplace, at the thought of being rid of us, and our dog who barks at him. The kids remind me about carrots, beets and onions. Lord. Where the heck am I even going to plant them? We aren't even going to dig the garden till Memorial Day-ish.
The rest of the stuff still has not been planted. I haven't looked at the peas lately, but, they were still there last time I looked. My Dad said they like the cold, so I am sure the rain that turned into ice and then snow overnight was a treat for them. I will have amazing peas, right?
My friend, Sue, is excited about my thoughts on canning, and now I have a canning buddy. I don't have the heart to tell her those visions went away with the peas. Jasin is on board now, too. He ordered 2 tents. Between canning and tents and his hunting and fishing skills, we can absolutely live off the land and be survivalists if we have to. We can? All this over a garden and peas. I would say that somehow it came to our attention that our zonings laws allow chickens in the village, but, I should probably wait untill the closing papers on the house next door are signed. If Jasin could smuggle a milk cow into the back yard, he absolutely would.
Someday, my kids will laugh about these things during family get togethers during the holidays. Or, privately together, out of my earshot. I'm not sure if it will be with laughing tolerance of their crazy Mom, or, with concerns, and an outside professional, to discuss the private vs semi private status of my new housing in an institution.
Friday, April 12, 2013
Hello Mr Eskimo. May I Sell You an Ice Maker?
Franklinville is a very small town, with lots of kids, and lots of fund raisers. School fund raisers, sport fun raisers, 4-H fund raisers, Scout fund raisers..... they are everywhere. Through fun raisers, one may purchase magazines, candy, cheesecake, chocolates, wrapping paper, flowers, first aid kits, candles, popcorn, pizza, cookies, ice cream.... you can donate money for different causes, reasons, for runs/walks/bike rides/jump roping. For the playground/fire dept/church/or some auxillary or other. The food pantry/charities/troops/toddlers/hospitals. The list is endless. We are a tiny town, but, we are a generous town. Even though we live in a place not known for wealth and prosperity, we collectively manage to find time to help out, money to donate, and we take care of our own as best we can. If there is a need, there is always a crowd of people there to help.
All this being said; my own children have had several fund raisers lately. Kaila and Joe, primarily. Kaila's style of fund raising is as such;
Kaila. You are really reaching the end of your time to get your stuff sold. You need to get out and hit pavement child, and get this done.
Fine. Tomorrow.
No. Today.
It's cold.
Wear a coat.
Do you WANT me to be sick? Are you TRYING to get me sick? You do know, that if I am sick, you will be stuck with me home from school. It's not good for my education. Do you WANT me to fail?
Don't forget your hat and mittens, kiddo.
Ugh. Fine. I am taking my bike.
What? Why? You are starting out next door. It's less than 50 feet away.
I need to take my bike. It has a basket. I need to take my pens, papers, wallet, phone, lipgloss, purse, house key.... I need my bike. LEXI! I am using your helmet!
MOM! She just TOOK my helmet, and didn't even ask! I say she can't use it.
Fine. Than I don't have to go fund raising.
Get the helmet on, and get going!
10 minutes later.....
KAILA! WHAT are you doing? Have you even left the yard yet??
I am GOING!
Rides bike 10 feet away to the next door neighbor's porch.
Nobody home, Mom!
20 minutes later
I couldn't sell anything. Sorry!
Kaila. did you go there, there, there, there, there, there, or there? (I say, pointing to half a dozen houses within sight of our front porch.
No.
OMG. Kaila.
And so it goes. It's a brutal process. Joe, however, is the polar opposite.
Mom. I have flowers, candles, first aid kits and coupon books to sell.
Okay.
You need this stuff, mom.
Okay. I will buy something soon,
No time like now, Mom
Not right now, Joe, I am cooking dinner. I will buy something before you need to turn it in.
One hour later;
Mom. You really need all of this stuff. If you look here, there are coupons for Arby's, Subway, and a grocery store. You will save a lot of money, and get things you like. And, the candles have a lot of scents. I know you like lilacs. I am selling a lilac scented candle. And Dad likes apple pies. There is an apple pie scented candle. There is also a 4 pack of candles. You can have it all for $35.00. Not much at all!
Joe! I promise I will buy something! Just, not now!
One hour later;
Mom. You are a nurse.
Thanks for the update, son.
You know how important medical care is.
Yup.
I am selling first aid kits. There are kits for sports - Kaila and I will both be in baseball and soft ball this year. We should carry these. There are kits for camping. I am going camping with scouts. You want me to be safe, right? There are kits for your car, and for home. You and Dad should both have one of these for your trucks. And one for home. If you buy the big kit, it includes all of this for only $85.00!
Joe. I am a nurse. We have medical stuff everywhere. We're good.
Mom. You do not understand. This has everything, in an easy to carry case! All in one spot, already put together.
Joe! For goodness sake, I will order sometime, just not NOW!
One hour later.
Mom. You love flowers.
UUUGGGGHHH! Yes, Joe. I do.
Well. You can never have too many flowors, Mom!
True.
And, you talked about putting in a new garden!
I did.
And, you need to put something where the lilac tree that died, was, right?
Yes.
And, maybe more in the garden by the patio.
Get to the point, Joseph.
Well, I have a whole BOOK full of beautiful flowers for sale! And strawberries! You know how much Lexi loves strawberries!
For the love of - okay, give me the book.
If you look here, we have lots of different kinds. There is a whole package of nothing but blue flowers. Your favorite color! And bleeding hearts. You love hearts!
I have bleeding hearts.
There is also a butterfly garden available. You love butterflies, Mom.
Yup.
Mom. You DESERVE flowers. You need to buy something for yourself. Maybe you could even tell Dad to buy them for you. Instead of flowers from a store, he could get you a whole garden full, that comes back every year! Unlimmited flowers!
HAHAHAHA! I like the way you think!
You deserve flowers, Mom. Heck! If I had the money, I would buy them for you. Pick out as many as you like! The whole book, even!
Joe, you realize you have tried to sell me almost $300. in merchandise today.
It's for a good cause, Mom. And it's useful things you need and deserve. Here is a pen and the order form. Fill out your name..... very good, now, what should I start to mark for you? We should start with the blue garden collection.
Joe! Not yet! I am just looking right now!
Might as well do it now, Mom. You know how busy you are. Now is a good time.
Oh, okay.
I am going to need the money up front. I prefer cash, but will accept a good check.
All this being said; my own children have had several fund raisers lately. Kaila and Joe, primarily. Kaila's style of fund raising is as such;
Kaila. You are really reaching the end of your time to get your stuff sold. You need to get out and hit pavement child, and get this done.
Fine. Tomorrow.
No. Today.
It's cold.
Wear a coat.
Do you WANT me to be sick? Are you TRYING to get me sick? You do know, that if I am sick, you will be stuck with me home from school. It's not good for my education. Do you WANT me to fail?
Don't forget your hat and mittens, kiddo.
Ugh. Fine. I am taking my bike.
What? Why? You are starting out next door. It's less than 50 feet away.
I need to take my bike. It has a basket. I need to take my pens, papers, wallet, phone, lipgloss, purse, house key.... I need my bike. LEXI! I am using your helmet!
MOM! She just TOOK my helmet, and didn't even ask! I say she can't use it.
Fine. Than I don't have to go fund raising.
Get the helmet on, and get going!
10 minutes later.....
KAILA! WHAT are you doing? Have you even left the yard yet??
I am GOING!
Rides bike 10 feet away to the next door neighbor's porch.
Nobody home, Mom!
20 minutes later
I couldn't sell anything. Sorry!
Kaila. did you go there, there, there, there, there, there, or there? (I say, pointing to half a dozen houses within sight of our front porch.
No.
OMG. Kaila.
And so it goes. It's a brutal process. Joe, however, is the polar opposite.
Mom. I have flowers, candles, first aid kits and coupon books to sell.
Okay.
You need this stuff, mom.
Okay. I will buy something soon,
No time like now, Mom
Not right now, Joe, I am cooking dinner. I will buy something before you need to turn it in.
One hour later;
Mom. You really need all of this stuff. If you look here, there are coupons for Arby's, Subway, and a grocery store. You will save a lot of money, and get things you like. And, the candles have a lot of scents. I know you like lilacs. I am selling a lilac scented candle. And Dad likes apple pies. There is an apple pie scented candle. There is also a 4 pack of candles. You can have it all for $35.00. Not much at all!
Joe! I promise I will buy something! Just, not now!
One hour later;
Mom. You are a nurse.
Thanks for the update, son.
You know how important medical care is.
Yup.
I am selling first aid kits. There are kits for sports - Kaila and I will both be in baseball and soft ball this year. We should carry these. There are kits for camping. I am going camping with scouts. You want me to be safe, right? There are kits for your car, and for home. You and Dad should both have one of these for your trucks. And one for home. If you buy the big kit, it includes all of this for only $85.00!
Joe. I am a nurse. We have medical stuff everywhere. We're good.
Mom. You do not understand. This has everything, in an easy to carry case! All in one spot, already put together.
Joe! For goodness sake, I will order sometime, just not NOW!
One hour later.
Mom. You love flowers.
UUUGGGGHHH! Yes, Joe. I do.
Well. You can never have too many flowors, Mom!
True.
And, you talked about putting in a new garden!
I did.
And, you need to put something where the lilac tree that died, was, right?
Yes.
And, maybe more in the garden by the patio.
Get to the point, Joseph.
Well, I have a whole BOOK full of beautiful flowers for sale! And strawberries! You know how much Lexi loves strawberries!
For the love of - okay, give me the book.
If you look here, we have lots of different kinds. There is a whole package of nothing but blue flowers. Your favorite color! And bleeding hearts. You love hearts!
I have bleeding hearts.
There is also a butterfly garden available. You love butterflies, Mom.
Yup.
Mom. You DESERVE flowers. You need to buy something for yourself. Maybe you could even tell Dad to buy them for you. Instead of flowers from a store, he could get you a whole garden full, that comes back every year! Unlimmited flowers!
HAHAHAHA! I like the way you think!
You deserve flowers, Mom. Heck! If I had the money, I would buy them for you. Pick out as many as you like! The whole book, even!
Joe, you realize you have tried to sell me almost $300. in merchandise today.
It's for a good cause, Mom. And it's useful things you need and deserve. Here is a pen and the order form. Fill out your name..... very good, now, what should I start to mark for you? We should start with the blue garden collection.
Joe! Not yet! I am just looking right now!
Might as well do it now, Mom. You know how busy you are. Now is a good time.
Oh, okay.
I am going to need the money up front. I prefer cash, but will accept a good check.
Thursday, April 11, 2013
A Day in the Life of....
This morning I laid in bed, and thought of all the things I was going to accomplish this morning. Maybe I would even finally break out those new exercise DVD's. Rolled out of bed and threw a load of laundry in first thing. Told the kids it was damp and cold and looking like rain, so I would take them to school. That was the beginning of the end of my plans for a productive morning.
"Dressed like THAT?"
"Yes. I am wearing my night gown and housecoat. It's not like I'm getting out of the truck."
The fighting over the front seat began immediately.
"I call shotgun!!!"
"No! I call shotgun!"
"I called it first!"
"Mom! I called shotgun, and SHE is sitting in the front seat! Make her move!"
"Both of you get in the back. And, thank you, George, for climbing your muddy feet all over my seat."
Okay. Back home, need tea, need to switch laundry, need to take a shower, need to run to the store...... Walk through the front door and stumble over Kaila's trumpet. ¥£€^%#!!!!! Okay. Throw on clothes, c'mon George, we need to go back.
No! I need to change my coat first!
What? Why?
Because it doesn't match my hat. I need the Transformer coat.
( you know, the one 3 sizes too big? That one.)
Okay, change your coat while I get dressed.
Ar this point I notice a call from the school. Probably Kaila, telling me she forgot her trumpet. Okay, back in the truck we go.
GEORGE!! MUST we climb muddy feet over my seat??!!
Mom! I need to change into my rain boots! It's raining out, go get them.
Not happening kid. Lets go.
But I neeeeeed my rain boots!!!
George. No.
Commence meltdown.
Arrive to school while doing the 'I haven't brushed my teeth yet, do I have morning breath?' Check. Seems okay. Walk into school, and the principal says
Oh! You must have gotten Joe's message that he forgot his book bag!
Of course he did. No. I have Kaila's trumpet. I will be back with the book bag.
Hand the trumpet over to Kaila.
Kaila, give me a call if you need a ride home later.
Okay.
Do you have your phone?
Yep!
Okay. Let me know.
Can't. It's dead.
Lord.
Back home, get the backpack, back to school, drop off the backpack. Back in the truck;
George. Get your muddy shoes OFF my seat!
Back home, and to the realization that, for the last few days, something in the vicinity of the laundry room smells. And it does not seem to be going away. How much do I care about this? In the back of my head, the thought that I work the next 3 days, and it will probably be gone by Monday, when I am home again is there, but, I should probably figure it out, or I will certainly have company today.
After my tea and shower.
"Dressed like THAT?"
"Yes. I am wearing my night gown and housecoat. It's not like I'm getting out of the truck."
The fighting over the front seat began immediately.
"I call shotgun!!!"
"No! I call shotgun!"
"I called it first!"
"Mom! I called shotgun, and SHE is sitting in the front seat! Make her move!"
"Both of you get in the back. And, thank you, George, for climbing your muddy feet all over my seat."
Okay. Back home, need tea, need to switch laundry, need to take a shower, need to run to the store...... Walk through the front door and stumble over Kaila's trumpet. ¥£€^%#!!!!! Okay. Throw on clothes, c'mon George, we need to go back.
No! I need to change my coat first!
What? Why?
Because it doesn't match my hat. I need the Transformer coat.
( you know, the one 3 sizes too big? That one.)
Okay, change your coat while I get dressed.
Ar this point I notice a call from the school. Probably Kaila, telling me she forgot her trumpet. Okay, back in the truck we go.
GEORGE!! MUST we climb muddy feet over my seat??!!
Mom! I need to change into my rain boots! It's raining out, go get them.
Not happening kid. Lets go.
But I neeeeeed my rain boots!!!
George. No.
Commence meltdown.
Arrive to school while doing the 'I haven't brushed my teeth yet, do I have morning breath?' Check. Seems okay. Walk into school, and the principal says
Oh! You must have gotten Joe's message that he forgot his book bag!
Of course he did. No. I have Kaila's trumpet. I will be back with the book bag.
Hand the trumpet over to Kaila.
Kaila, give me a call if you need a ride home later.
Okay.
Do you have your phone?
Yep!
Okay. Let me know.
Can't. It's dead.
Lord.
Back home, get the backpack, back to school, drop off the backpack. Back in the truck;
George. Get your muddy shoes OFF my seat!
Back home, and to the realization that, for the last few days, something in the vicinity of the laundry room smells. And it does not seem to be going away. How much do I care about this? In the back of my head, the thought that I work the next 3 days, and it will probably be gone by Monday, when I am home again is there, but, I should probably figure it out, or I will certainly have company today.
After my tea and shower.
Saturday, April 6, 2013
Country Mouse Goes to the City
It finally happened, and then was over too fast. I finally made it to New York City, to go see The Phantom of the Opera! This is something I have wanted to do since I was 15, way back in my voice lesson days. I could hardly believe it was actually going to happen! I was so worried something would occur that would prevent this trip from taking place. The kids were not allowed to bounce on their beds, run too fast, wrestle, tussle or carry sharp objects. Extra care was taken with driving, walking, and navigating stairs. Vitamins were taken, 't's crossed and 'i's dotted. This trip needed to happen.
There was some concern from a co-worker, who had doubts of my ability to handle the Big Apple. I was told with genuine worry, that I was a little country girl, who would probably be overwhelmed with the Big City, and not able to handle it well at all. I informed this person that I get out of the barn occasionally, and I would be fine.
In all reality, we did not have enough time to be anything BUT fine! Our bus left at 3:30 AM, and my friend Jen and I were the first aboard. We could hardly contain our excitement!
"Did you bring stuff for breakfast?" She asked.
"Yup! Oranges, bananas, fruit and nut bars...."
"LOL! So glad I packed stuff too, then. I brought Snicker doodles, Pizza Combos, gummy lifesavers...." I looked at the bag she had packed and informed her we could comfortably feed the entire bus and have leftovers. "I have six kids, Moriah. I pack EVERYTHING when I go anywhere."
"It may be our last meal. Jasin waited up for me to go. He took pictures of me first. Then hugged me and said to have a good time. He was totally weepy. I feel like he was taking goodbye pics and giving me a last hug. The pictures were halfway decent, so, I guess they have my approval for funeral home use."
"Am I going to have to die too, now?"
"Did you get goodbye pictures taken?"
"No."
"Then you probably shouldn't die today."
"Okay."
"Glad we have that settled."
"yup."
We had a few stops, to pick up more people. We ended up with 2 kids approximately 9-11 yrs old behind us who spent the next 7 hours cheerfully kicking our seats, coughing and sneezing on us, and hanging their heads between us, to listen in, or read whatever we had in front of us.
"So glad we left our kids home, to enjoy a kid free day..." remarked Jen. I nodded in complete agreement. Unfortunately, it isn't nice to spin around and grab someone Else's child and get in their face to tell them to sit down, cover your coughs, and quit kicking one's damn seat. So, we endured it. The end result would be worth it, right? And, the fact that the seats and space were designed for people 3 feet tall and under was totally not an issue. It was only a few hours, right?
The trip wasn't so long, and we were at our drop off by 11:15. We were told to meet the bus at precisely 7:45 PM, and have a nice day. We stood there, gazing around, and wondered "Now what? What do we do first?" And we were off! We ended up somehow at the Avenue of Flags, and Rockefeller Center. We bought tickets to go to the top of Rockefeller after the Phantom, later that evening. We checked out Radio City Music Hall, St Patrick's Cathedral, and all the shops and stores under Rockefeller. We headed toward Times Square, chatted with a very nice police man, and generally found the majority of people to be helpful and pleasant.
At Times Square, we saw a man sitting on the corner beating on a plastic pail and a few plastic bins and assorted metal things. It sounded EXACTLY like a marching band. I snapped pics of Spider man, for George, we wandered through a 3 story store dedicated to M&M's, we figured out after approximately 2 minutes in the city, how to cross crazy roads like pro's. We had the best time, laughing, and talking, and running from this place to the next. At one point, a man in a golden robe grabbed me, shoved a golden card in my hand, and a wooden beaded bracelet on my wrist and screamed at me to sign my name on a paper and write the word "Peace". "What? No! I am not writing my na-" "WRITE IT! Write your name, and the word PEACE!!!" The man screamed at me, turbans waving wildly from atop his crazed head. "No, I really really don't want to sign your paper, sir -" He grabbed my hand, stuck a pen in it, placed it on his paper, screaming "WRITE YOUR NAME AND 'PEACE!!!!!' "Oh my goodness. If it means THAT much to you...." and I scrawled my name and wrote 'Peace' for the crazy person. "Good." He approved. "Now give me money." "No! I am not giving you money!" The gold card and bracelet were yanked away, and crazy man stomped off. Lesson Learned.
We decided we should probably attempt to find the Theater, and grab something for lunch, when I happened to look up, and see the Theater down a street right off of Times Square, with a restaurant right across the road from it. Sheer dumb luck, really. Lunch was in a fun place called "Jekyll and Hyde", and worth every cent we paid for it. Then off across the road to see the Phantom. There was this extremely long line to the theater, but we decided this could not possibly be the line to get in, so we went to the front, and found out it was indeed, the line, but still somehow ended up right up front anyway. Next thing we knew, the doors were open, and we were swept inside with the crowd. Once seated, I could hardly contain myself. This was not really happening. I was HERE! 20 years of wanting this, and I was finaly here! The size of the theater was surprising. Very very small. The Franklinville school auditorium was bigger! Ah well, I was here, and didn't care how big or small it was.
The show was worth every cent, and every kick and sneeze endured on the way. I was absolutely crying by the end. It was amazing. Before we were even out of the theater, I was trying to figure out how to do it again. Soon.
After, we needed to make our way to the Rockefeller Center, and I needed to get the kids something, which I did in under 10 minutes at a tee-shirt stand. And then Jen's souvenir shopping began. We were at a lot of stands and shops and stores. "How many kids do you have, exactly" I finally inquired. "Six!" She informed me, on the way into another store. "THIRTY six, maybe?" "Oh, stop, we have plenty of time!" She cheerfully informed me, sailing in to another store.
We made it to the top of Rockefeller Center, where the views were amazing. I sat up there awhile, just looking out over the City. Mostly because Jen was in another store. It was amazing, to just sit up there, and look out over the world. But, eventually, we had to make our way back down, and catch our bus in 45 minutes. Which was easy peasy. Bryant Park, where the bus would be, was right over......... well. Someplace. It was near-ish. The maps were not helpful, nor was my GPS. Well, hmmm. So, we began asking people that did not look like tourists to point us in the right direction. Everyone was very helpful, but, we didn't seem to be making our way very quickly. Finaly, I stopped a man with a rickshaw, and asked him. He asked for my number. Jen laughed outright. He did not get my number, but told us to get in anyway, and he would take us to where we needed to be. The ride was death defying and so much fun! "We're going to die!" screeched Jen. "What a way to go!!! Besides, I already have my funeral pictures taken, so I'm all good!" screeched me. He drove us past The Waldorf Hotel, Lexington, Madison Ave, and all over. We had so much fun. I almost felt sorry for whomever was in the limo we almost hit. They could not have possibly been having nearly as much fun as we did that day. How sad.
We made it back to our bus stop with 10 minutes to spare. I was dragged into one last souvenir shop. After which Jen said the only thing she didn't get a chance to do was go to "Crumbs Bakery" I happened to look up, and see one right across the road from our bus stop. So, we defied death and traffic one last time, to go get cupcakes. Completely worth the adrenaline of crossing a NYC street. Amazing stuff, those Crumbs Cupcakes.
The bus ride home was long. And cramped. And painful and exhausting. But, worth the day we had just spent. Almost exactly to the minute 24 hours from the start, we were back where we started. An amazing day, an amazing adventure, and, the Country girl did just fine. Ha!
There was some concern from a co-worker, who had doubts of my ability to handle the Big Apple. I was told with genuine worry, that I was a little country girl, who would probably be overwhelmed with the Big City, and not able to handle it well at all. I informed this person that I get out of the barn occasionally, and I would be fine.
In all reality, we did not have enough time to be anything BUT fine! Our bus left at 3:30 AM, and my friend Jen and I were the first aboard. We could hardly contain our excitement!
"Did you bring stuff for breakfast?" She asked.
"Yup! Oranges, bananas, fruit and nut bars...."
"LOL! So glad I packed stuff too, then. I brought Snicker doodles, Pizza Combos, gummy lifesavers...." I looked at the bag she had packed and informed her we could comfortably feed the entire bus and have leftovers. "I have six kids, Moriah. I pack EVERYTHING when I go anywhere."
"It may be our last meal. Jasin waited up for me to go. He took pictures of me first. Then hugged me and said to have a good time. He was totally weepy. I feel like he was taking goodbye pics and giving me a last hug. The pictures were halfway decent, so, I guess they have my approval for funeral home use."
"Am I going to have to die too, now?"
"Did you get goodbye pictures taken?"
"No."
"Then you probably shouldn't die today."
"Okay."
"Glad we have that settled."
"yup."
We had a few stops, to pick up more people. We ended up with 2 kids approximately 9-11 yrs old behind us who spent the next 7 hours cheerfully kicking our seats, coughing and sneezing on us, and hanging their heads between us, to listen in, or read whatever we had in front of us.
"So glad we left our kids home, to enjoy a kid free day..." remarked Jen. I nodded in complete agreement. Unfortunately, it isn't nice to spin around and grab someone Else's child and get in their face to tell them to sit down, cover your coughs, and quit kicking one's damn seat. So, we endured it. The end result would be worth it, right? And, the fact that the seats and space were designed for people 3 feet tall and under was totally not an issue. It was only a few hours, right?
The trip wasn't so long, and we were at our drop off by 11:15. We were told to meet the bus at precisely 7:45 PM, and have a nice day. We stood there, gazing around, and wondered "Now what? What do we do first?" And we were off! We ended up somehow at the Avenue of Flags, and Rockefeller Center. We bought tickets to go to the top of Rockefeller after the Phantom, later that evening. We checked out Radio City Music Hall, St Patrick's Cathedral, and all the shops and stores under Rockefeller. We headed toward Times Square, chatted with a very nice police man, and generally found the majority of people to be helpful and pleasant.
At Times Square, we saw a man sitting on the corner beating on a plastic pail and a few plastic bins and assorted metal things. It sounded EXACTLY like a marching band. I snapped pics of Spider man, for George, we wandered through a 3 story store dedicated to M&M's, we figured out after approximately 2 minutes in the city, how to cross crazy roads like pro's. We had the best time, laughing, and talking, and running from this place to the next. At one point, a man in a golden robe grabbed me, shoved a golden card in my hand, and a wooden beaded bracelet on my wrist and screamed at me to sign my name on a paper and write the word "Peace". "What? No! I am not writing my na-" "WRITE IT! Write your name, and the word PEACE!!!" The man screamed at me, turbans waving wildly from atop his crazed head. "No, I really really don't want to sign your paper, sir -" He grabbed my hand, stuck a pen in it, placed it on his paper, screaming "WRITE YOUR NAME AND 'PEACE!!!!!' "Oh my goodness. If it means THAT much to you...." and I scrawled my name and wrote 'Peace' for the crazy person. "Good." He approved. "Now give me money." "No! I am not giving you money!" The gold card and bracelet were yanked away, and crazy man stomped off. Lesson Learned.
We decided we should probably attempt to find the Theater, and grab something for lunch, when I happened to look up, and see the Theater down a street right off of Times Square, with a restaurant right across the road from it. Sheer dumb luck, really. Lunch was in a fun place called "Jekyll and Hyde", and worth every cent we paid for it. Then off across the road to see the Phantom. There was this extremely long line to the theater, but we decided this could not possibly be the line to get in, so we went to the front, and found out it was indeed, the line, but still somehow ended up right up front anyway. Next thing we knew, the doors were open, and we were swept inside with the crowd. Once seated, I could hardly contain myself. This was not really happening. I was HERE! 20 years of wanting this, and I was finaly here! The size of the theater was surprising. Very very small. The Franklinville school auditorium was bigger! Ah well, I was here, and didn't care how big or small it was.
The show was worth every cent, and every kick and sneeze endured on the way. I was absolutely crying by the end. It was amazing. Before we were even out of the theater, I was trying to figure out how to do it again. Soon.
After, we needed to make our way to the Rockefeller Center, and I needed to get the kids something, which I did in under 10 minutes at a tee-shirt stand. And then Jen's souvenir shopping began. We were at a lot of stands and shops and stores. "How many kids do you have, exactly" I finally inquired. "Six!" She informed me, on the way into another store. "THIRTY six, maybe?" "Oh, stop, we have plenty of time!" She cheerfully informed me, sailing in to another store.
We made it to the top of Rockefeller Center, where the views were amazing. I sat up there awhile, just looking out over the City. Mostly because Jen was in another store. It was amazing, to just sit up there, and look out over the world. But, eventually, we had to make our way back down, and catch our bus in 45 minutes. Which was easy peasy. Bryant Park, where the bus would be, was right over......... well. Someplace. It was near-ish. The maps were not helpful, nor was my GPS. Well, hmmm. So, we began asking people that did not look like tourists to point us in the right direction. Everyone was very helpful, but, we didn't seem to be making our way very quickly. Finaly, I stopped a man with a rickshaw, and asked him. He asked for my number. Jen laughed outright. He did not get my number, but told us to get in anyway, and he would take us to where we needed to be. The ride was death defying and so much fun! "We're going to die!" screeched Jen. "What a way to go!!! Besides, I already have my funeral pictures taken, so I'm all good!" screeched me. He drove us past The Waldorf Hotel, Lexington, Madison Ave, and all over. We had so much fun. I almost felt sorry for whomever was in the limo we almost hit. They could not have possibly been having nearly as much fun as we did that day. How sad.
We made it back to our bus stop with 10 minutes to spare. I was dragged into one last souvenir shop. After which Jen said the only thing she didn't get a chance to do was go to "Crumbs Bakery" I happened to look up, and see one right across the road from our bus stop. So, we defied death and traffic one last time, to go get cupcakes. Completely worth the adrenaline of crossing a NYC street. Amazing stuff, those Crumbs Cupcakes.
The bus ride home was long. And cramped. And painful and exhausting. But, worth the day we had just spent. Almost exactly to the minute 24 hours from the start, we were back where we started. An amazing day, an amazing adventure, and, the Country girl did just fine. Ha!
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