I opened my eyes to a bright but quiet morning. No alarm had shrilled in my ear; I took a moment to savor that. With school days just around the corner and football season in full swing, there won’t be a lot of sleeping in in my foreseeable future.
My husband was not in bed beside me, but this was not unusual. Maybe he was riding his bicycle. Or maybe he was cooking breakfast. He’s my morning half. I can handle afternoons and evenings, and I excel at late nights, but it’s better for everyone if I’m not required to be human early in the morning.
A quick look at my facebook feed found my guy and the Girl having a Daddy/Daughter morning at Starbucks. A ‘Like’ on his status let him know I was awake, and I received a text momentarily asking if I wanted coffee from Starbucks. Um, yes please. See what a lovely man he is?
Now, if I could just freeze frame the day right there…
I did get my coffee, but shortly thereafter the day deteriorated into a comedy of errors.
The little dog escaped from the side fence. This is a not a new trick. We looked and looked and did not find him. He did not have his collar on this time, because my sweet Girl bathed him yesterday and didn’t put it back onto him.
I posted a message on our community facebook group, and I started making a sign to post at the neighborhood entrance. I couldn’t print the sign, though, because my printer wasn’t working.
I’ll leave out the long boring details about deleting and reinstalling printer drivers and whatnot. But yeah, that happened.
Just as the printer was rolling out copies of the sign, my phone rang. My first thought was, Of course someone found him after my computer issues were fixed.
He wasn’t found, though. She had just seen my post and remembered seeing him an hour earlier. I went to look, but he was no longer there.
We went back home, finished the sign, and posted it at the entrance.
[Remember, y’all, that I have a full time job that had been totally neglected while Operation Find Choo Choo got underway.]
Back to work I went. For a few minutes. Then I had to shower and get ready to go to take the Boy to his foot doctor check up.
We made it to the foot doctor on time and had a successful, albeit long, visit. He can play football! Yay!
A Strawberry Limeade sounded like just the thing for the afternoon heat, so we stopped in at Sonic. They gave me a Cherry Limeade, which is not at all the same thing. I asked for a new drink, and they told me, “Oh, sure, it’ll be right out.” After 15 minutes, I realized it was not going to be right out. No Strawberry Limeade for me.
We returned home to gather our gear for an evening family bike ride at a local park. Sadly, when I got there I realized I had no house key. Yes, I locked myself out of the house… for the second time this month. The kids checked back doors and windows for anything left unlocked… no dice.
We were off to Grandpa’s house to retrieve the spare key. Luckily it is only 8 miles roundtrip to my parents’ house.
Back at home again, and we were in. I let the big dog outside, and we gathered our things. When it was time to go, I opened the door to let her back in and… ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!?! Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum had left the gate open after checking for open doors or windows. Now both dogs were missing.
The kids got on their bikes and found her. A giant breed dog wandering around is so much easier to spot than a toy breed. Thank God.
We were finally on our way. I decided to shed some aggravation by listening to some loud music and singing at the top of my lungs while driving. Instead of singing along or even just bobbing his head like the wannabe cool preteen that he is, the Boy held his ears and whined that I was hurting his head.
Whooah, we're half way there!
Whooah, livin’ on a prayer!
Take my hand and we'll make it - I swear!
Whooah, livin on a prayer!
He wasn’t feeling it. The Girl encouraged him to sing, and he screamed at her at the top of his lungs to shut up. I found myself pulling to the shoulder of the freeway threatening to kick him out of the car if he behaved like that again. Then, I told him as punishment we were going to play the song again so that he could sing along.
I think it’s funny that you think I’m going to sing, he said.
Oh, you don’t have to sing this time, I said. I can keep hitting repeat until you’re ready. But I’m going to sing every time, m’kay?
If you’ve never tortured your kid by making them sing a song they don’t like, I highly recommend it. It’s very entertaining.
We arrived at the park without further incident and enjoyed some hot and humid family biking fun. Then, we got back home to a…hot and humid house. Eighty seven degrees in the house feels fantastic. The Hubs went to check the AC, and I walked away. I didn’t want to know if it was broken.
It wasn’t; it was a breaker. Whew. I’ve had no AC in the summertime in Texas. For weeks. I hope to never experience that little slice of paradise again, thankyouverymuch.
We’ve already experienced a dryer failure that lasted the better part of a month. They fixed it - just this week - but now it makes loud, grating, humming noises and sounds horrendous. It does, however, dry clothes.
Our coffee machine has been threatening a revolt lately, too. The Hubs thinks the coffee maker and the dryer are secretly plotting behind our backs.
[Then, of course, there was the 4th of July Swimming Pool Disaster and it's aftermath with which we are still dealing. Homeownership is fun, right?]
As we stood in the kitchen over a late Crock Pot supper, discussing Big Life Decisions that have us losing more than a little sleep lately, the lights in the kitchen went out.
I think the breaker box is in on the conspiracy now, too.
I’m going to bed before something really big happens. I hope it’s not big enough to wake me up. Unless it’s a phone call that someone has found that damn dog.
[I don’t love the dog, okay? But the Girl loves the dog and refuses to get upset that he’s gone because she just knows that he’s going to come home. He’s 6 pounds soaking wet and has been out on his own all day. I’m thinking it’s not looking too good. I don’t want to see the look on her face when she finally gets that, though, so I hope to God someone helps that dog find his way home.]
Wait. I’m not going to bed. That work stuff? Yeah, it’s still waiting for me. I guess I’ll be up for a while…
Friday, August 17, 2012
Thursday, August 9, 2012
2 days in a row...? This chick must have all kinds of free time or something. She's been a real slacker of a blogger this summer. Writers write. Right?? But where has she been...?
Well, that's another post. I'd like to share with you something special and lovely that happened last week, though.
Remember this post?
When The Boy was in preschool, he complained of a sore foot. He never complained to me, though. Complaints were made where maximum reaction would be gained: Grandma. She relayed said complaints to me, I shrugged them off, and he continued to complain only to her. This went on for a few weeks, at which point I said with exasperation, There's nothing wrong with his foot! He's walking, running, playing, and he never says a word to me about it! So, he started telling me about it. With resignation, I took him to the foot doctor. He had a stress fracture in his foot. He was in a boot for several weeks and then, when the boot didn't help, a full on cast for 6 weeks after that. (I'll leave to your imagination what a cast on a 5 year old boy smells like after 6 weeks. I still shudder at the memory.)Well we déjà vu'd that shit all over again last week.
I don't even need to retype it, because it's almost exactly the same. Verbatim. Only now he's 11 and needs to STOP JUMPING OFF THINGS. And I wasn't gonna be allowed to let it go 2 weeks. I took him the next day.
Kablammo. Cracked bone in the foot. A little ankle sprain for good measure, too.
But hey, he's in a wheelchair for one of his roles in the play. So, stage acting in a boot... No problemo.
He sure won't be doing much of this...
...for a while, though.
As I told my facebook friends this weekend: Saturday morning scrimmages are hot and steamy but still fun when you get to watch your kid play. Saturday morning scrimmages when he's injured and has to sit on the sideline… Not so much fun.
So, I went to the grocery store. My team spirit isn't that strong. Sorry, guys.
Injured foot during play performances AND football season... The Boy is WINNING lately. What next?
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
You're such a drama queen!
I can't tell you how many times that phrase is uttered in our household.
Clearly, my children were made for the stage.
Last spring, they started participating in a local community theater for kids. She wanted to try out for Charlotte's Web. He decided to try out on a lark while we were there. He was offered a part, and she was not.
I may or may not have gotten her a puppy to make her feel better when she didn't make it. Then, we got a call saying they would like her to be in the play as one of the little goslings. So, she got a puppy and a part. (Please don’t remind her father of this, he’s not thrilled about it still.)
I watch them on stage, and I see them shine. It doesn't matter when they don’t get a big role or that they don't have many lines. They love what they’re doing. If you've ever watched your kids play "house" or "school" in their own bedrooms, you might be able to begin to imagine the excitement of a real script, costumes, music, stage lights, microphones, and a live audience.
For their first show, they invited everyone they knew. And these kids? They know some people. Aside from wonderfully supportive close family and family friends, though, no one came. I watched them as they signed autographs after the show. They were watching eagerly for familiar faces. This was, after all, a Big Deal. For them, at least. They just knew that everyone would come. My heart broke a little for them as they realized their friends weren’t coming after all.
The boy had to miss some football practices recently because of rehearsals. At his next practice, a teammate asked him where he had been.
Oh, I had dress rehearsals for the play I’m in, was his reply.
Who gives a crap about your stupid play? You’re supposed to be playing football, the kid said with derision.
|He's a boy of many talents...|
My boy didn’t answer him, he just shrugged and walked off to get some water.
I wasn’t there, but I’m told my mother set him straight. (Grandmas are good like that.) If I had been there? I suppose my answer would have been to tell the kid that Cole “gives a crap” about his play, and that’s all that really matters. I tend to be a little bit too vocal with other kids, though, so it’s best that I wasn’t there.
You know the scene in A Field of Dreams where the little girls says that people will come? Ha.
As they continue to take the stage, it is clear they are doing it for themselves, not for anyone else. Because, aside from grandparents and a special few family friends, people don’t come.
A very wise woman imparted some words of wisdom to me recently: All you can do is show up, tell your truth, and don't be attached to the outcome. She was speaking in the context of mothering, but I think this is such a powerful lesson that applies to so many aspects of life.
These kids are not attaching themselves to the outcome, they’re just loving what they’re doing.
The girl asked me on Saturday, Who is coming that we know tonight? I told her that I didn’t think anyone we knew would be in the audience. It didn’t seem to matter, though. It didn’t make them not want to perform. They were going to be there doing something they loved either way.
The people that don’t come? They’ll miss out on a night of fun. Us, though? We were there. Every. Single. Time. And, more importantly, they were there, these kids of ours, and they were full of life and lighting up the stage with their fellow actors.
And they were making memories.