Spoons and Diapers

It is a tradition at my parents house to go around the table and say what you are thankful for before we start to dig in to the incredible assortment of food spread out before us in a display of color and tastes.

It is a tradition because we all are keenly aware that we have so much to be thankful for in a world that has many more with out, than with.

So in our earnest attempt to show that we are keenly aware of our blessings, we one by one, count them.

I had a lot to be thankful for this year and I droned on and on, about my dad being healthy and recovering from his surgery just 2 weeks ago... my grandmother who is recovering from her stroke, also just two weeks ago...my beautiful children etc etc etc...

Remember, my three year old son is anxiously awaiting his turn to tell us what he is thankful for. My girls say such "awww" inspiring things as family and food and we all think what lovely little girls they are...

Henry? Nope, he smiled big, looked at all of us in all his glory, and said:

"I am thankful for spoons and diapers!"

Well, he may be a lot of things, but the boy knows what he is thankful for!

Happy Thanksgiving...and yes, I am thankful for a boy that never leaves me with a shortage of things to write about!

Time Machines

Henry informed me the other day that when he was in High School his I-pod was really big and it used to play "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star."

And when he was my age he liked to dance...

I am glad I know what he was like in High School and at my age, perhaps it will help me parent him when I am his age....

I know I know... I am still confused!

Do You Ever Think That...

...you have been eaten by the Suburban Stuffy Pole in a bad place Bug? Because I do.

I look at my daughter Marshall who as she gets older it becomes evident that she has the same quirky sense of humor that I used to...Bless her heart (those of you southerners will understand the meaning in that sentence.)

She decided last year that she loved cows; she drew them all over everything ...you know, kind of like I did with Beaker…when I used to draw pictures of him in various outfits and come up with names for him like "Malibu Beaker."

Yeah, see? Your NOT Laughing...that is what I mean...only the warped and demented totally get it...In a way it is nice, because we do our fake accents with each other, or pretend to have strange languages where everything has to start with S...and we bond in our own peculiar brand of humor. It makes me happy that she and I can communicate on that level where everyone around us thinks that I have opted to contribute to the delinquency of a minor.

Then I got this article from a friend…and these are guys from High School that I used to pal around with…and I thought…boy they are totally true to themselves…they haven’t changed a bit!

And it made me miss my weird self. I miss playing Russian Gulag Fashion Show with my friend Jen where we were both named Olga and donned flash lights as our most essential apparel. (Please disregard the complete social insensitivity…no harm meant there…just fun)

Some where a midst trying to maintain a lawn, and get my kids to school on time, I have lost sight of that fun person (and by fun I mean slightly off center of normal) that used to go to Dunkin’ Doughnuts and sneak coffee filters, and run our with them on our heads…just because we could…

So my hat is off to my old friends here, who obviously have kept their fun side in tact…and boy, I am envious…

It isn’t that I think that I should enter my school board meetings with a beret and speak to them in a French accent and pretend that I am Crusty Croissant or anything…its just that sometimes, between the meals, nose wiping, floor scrubbing, teaching, and trying to pretend like I am an adult and know what I am doing…I sort of miss that weirdo that used to be weird…just because I could….

That's Why I Have Always Loved Her...

"Everywhere I go I'm asked if I think the university stifles writers. My opinion is that they don't stifle enough of them. There's many a best-seller that could have been prevented by a good teacher." - Flannery O'Connor

Inquiring Minds Want to Know...

I have often wondered why, at the end of the day, I feel like someone has stuck an ice pick through my brain and twirled it around a little just to be sure that if there was any chance of brain matter still intact, it too could be destroyed. It has been a dilemma of mine for many years, starting when my eldest and middle girls got to the age where they were both talking at the same time.

I realize that when we have children, we look into their cute little faces and dream of the day that they say “mama” or “dada,” but somehow no one warns us of what that wish will bring…

The endless question age.

My brain has been probed by alien questions such as: “If trees could talk, what would they say?” and “Why do cars drive on roads and not on houses?” or even “Are those clouds rain clouds or regular clouds…if they all have water how come they don’t all rain?” These are just the questions in a 3 minute tug of war getting Henry’s coat on this morning.

By the time I got him to preschool, we had covered extinction, the vastness of the universe, tree frogs eyes, grass cutting, cows and their many colors, as well as various sizes of people and clothes, who poops on potties and who doesn't, why animals don’t poop on potties, and where do they poop if they don’t have diapers…

I am pretty sure that there were some other observations, definitions and quandaries that I have blocked out or simply forgotten as there is only so much information that one person is able to store.

It’s been a while since Marshall and Caroline were in the endless question zone, and I forgot what it was like. At the end of the day these days, I am not as physically exhausted as I am mentally.

And Yes, I know that it is a GOOD thing for my kids to be inquisitive and it is supposed to be a sign of intelligence…

I agree…they are intelligent enough to know that if they wear my feeble brain out by noon, they get some good TV time in the afternoon…that is what they are intelligent about.

And I know that “because it just is” is not an answer, but daggonit , I DON’T KNOW WHY ERIC'S HAIR IS BROWN AND YOURS IS BLOND AND WHY PEOPLE WERE INVENTED THAT WAY…..

Whew….This is why I need a vineyard…

This I Believe

From NPR the other day. This is so worth a read, funny, witty, and just exactly the way I feel about life these days!

Hope you enjoy!

There are Goats and Mamas Everywhere

When we get our Halloween candy, we put all three kids into a giant vat that everyone eats off of for the rest of the month. You know so that no one can hold a favorite teddy bear ransom for a package of sugar babies. (My kids are warped that way) Henry had been asking if he could eat his Mommy. While I was slightly concerned about this, I thought, I MUST be misunderstanding the boy.

As the weeks went on he kept talking about eating his mommy. I started to get a little more disconcerted, sleeping with one eye open incase he came into my room in the middle of the night with a knife and fork.

I was doling out goodies after lunch one day, and out peaked a white chocolate mummy on a stick.

“MY MOMMY” Henry exclaimed as he picked up his chocolate stick. I wasn’t sure whether to be insulted or relieved!

All was well and good and I can again, have sleep…Right????

Of course NOT!

Because every night lately, Henry has been getting up in the middle of the night and wanting to get in bed with us, we kindly decline the boy, and put him back in his bed. A few times we have gone in his room to wake him up in the morning and his light is on, which apparently he gets up and turns on in the middle of the night. I kept asking why etc… I never got an answer…until yesterday.

Henry: “Mom, why are there goats in our yard at night?”
Me: “HUH?”
Henry: “Yeah, you told me there were goats in our yard at night, and I have looked for them, they are scary”
Me: Completely confused “Goats? I don’t think I ever told you we had Goats…”
Henry: Very emphatically, “Yes you did! You did! I don’t like the goats in our yard”
Me: Thinking I had figured it out “Do you mean Ghosts?”
Henry: Very seriously, “Nope, you said we have Goats in our yard, and they scare me.”

Now, I am not sure where this is coming from, there are no Goats, or Ghosts I am pretty sure. And I am fairly positive I have not expressed any concern about the late night attack of four legged ruminants…so…I guess we are just going to have to go with his alter ego is playing games with him…hmmmm.

Ode to a Washer

I have always had this problem of attaching memories and unreasonable emotions to inanimate objects. It took a few tears, a talking to and quite a few people to move the couch I had growing up, that I took to college, and had our first year of marriage, to the dump. Somehow I had personified it, and felt that it was really sad that I was getting rid of it, and I felt guilty thinking of it sitting lonely at the dump. (I know, I never said that I was reasonable…)

I came home from being away for a week to my washing machine (which was our first major purchase as a married couple) being broken. We got this machine when moved out to the eastern shore of VA shortly after we got married. We lived in a little rented house (which remains my favorite) just down the road from "Crack Corner"

Nope, I am not kidding, and if you ever meet someone from the Eastern Shore and you say “Crack Corner”, they will most likely say “Oh in Exmore?” Ahhh the memories, Willis Warf, biking everywhere, fresh vegetables, drug busts in my driveway…you know, all the good stuff!

Anyway, we couldn’t afford the dryer, so we figured we could just get a washer. Yeah, the first 6 months we lived there it rained…like EVERYDAY…I can remember hang drying clothes all over our house with fans on them. Or going out to hang our clothes on the line during the 1 hour of the day that it didn’t rain, and getting eaten alive by man sized mosquitoes, only to find that the clothes never could dry because it was so humid outside that the air itself made the clothes more wet than when they came out of the washer.

One night, in tears because I couldn’t sleep from scratching too much, I counted 205 mosquito bites on my legs…yes I did promptly wake my sleeping husband to tell him, and then complain that I couldn’t sleep and I hated that we didn’t have a dryer and so on and so on…I am thankful that it was our first months of marriage, because if I did that now, he would probably impale me with a drying rack….actually, who am I kidding, after this many years he totally can tune me out!

So alas, after 13 years our washing machine must go…I am not going to feeling so sad though because there is a really nice front loader waiting to take its place…I will just apologize for not being able to fix it, and wave out the window as they take it to the washing machine graveyard…See? I am growing!

Hmmmm....

I think my son is insane. He was watching a show this morning, and yelled "stop it right now!" in a very stern voice.

I came around the corner, knowing he was by himself and said..."umm, you OK?"

"Yes," Completely into Franklin on TV.

"Who are you yelling at?"

"My foot, it was moving like this (he proceeds to kick it around) and I was getting mad at it."

"ummmmm....OOOOKAAAAYYYY" as I back out of the room and hide in the closet until normal Henry comes back to visit....

a little worried!

Martha Stewart I am NOT!

OK, so I went to the store the other day and in what I can only describe as a temporary moment of insanity I bought a turkey. Not turkey breast, not turkey burger…a whole freaking turkey.

OK so it wasn't really insanity as much as I am one of those people that cannot pass up a good deal and a nearly 15 pound turkey for 6$ was one of those deals. But now...I have to cook a turkey.

I am not someone who is versed in cooking large birds, nor do I know what to do with them after I cook them. I came home the other night all "la-de-da I bought a turkey, and am going to cook a big meal for my family" and was instantly crushed by reading that it was going to take 5hours to cook the darn thing.

I believe that this should be in bold letters on the label: "DO NOT BUY IF YOU WANT TO EAT THIS WEEK." Seriously, I am too busy in my life as taxi driver of children to have something in the oven for 5 hours!

What is a girl to do? Call my mom…which is what I did.

I realize that somewhere in my youth and childhood I evidently missed the class on bird cooking 101. My mom always did a great job, so I didn’t feel the need to learn this myself. I still go away for Thanksgiving, and tend to have a ham preference at Christmas…so needless to say, when my mother started going over the pans, utensils, and cook witchery I had to master to get this bird from salmonella infested to luxuriously moist turkey roast, I thought I was going to black out.

But in my earnest attempt to save money, and be more self reliant…I am going to dive in and try to master basting tonight.

Wish me luck, and Martha can just close her eyes and shake her head…I will apologize now, because Lord knows what it is going to look like after I try and carve it! LOL.

Back From the Lost World

I am back from the lost world of stress...where hair falls out, heads do 360's and a minor altercation can become a leap toward incarceration if it happens at the right moment.

A few things that I have learned about myself: I am not a graceful stressed person. I age about 10 years and act 20 years younger in maturity. And lastly, if anything is of the chocolate and peanut butter persuasion, it had better get the heck out of my way because I WILL consume it in massive quantities.

But now all is OK, my dad’s OK, my grandmother is OK, voting is over (I had devoted the spare 2 minutes of every day in the last 18 months to a referendum that passed), and things are settling back down to my normal pace, the speed of light. So, all things edible can stop hiding from me, as my appetite is back to normal.

And the good thing? You know, aside from everyone recovering nicely, and no more 800 committee meetings a week…now I can call my dad and blame him for my extra large butt that has miraculously appeared behind me. (And by miraculous I mean, I know exactly where it came from, but I don’t care to own it, so I am going to actively blame him…its just more fun that way)

Ahhhhhh it is a good day!

How Did We Survive...

...Being children of the 70's? You all have seen those emails about the horror of our childhood, you know when you drank water straight from the hose, wandered aimlessly through the woods by ourselves or with out posses from sun up to sun down, no carseats, rode in the beds of trucks, and even worse, we had no companies to come and baby proof our houses. Putting latches and gadgets on every appliance, plug and toilet in your house... (I didn't do this by the way, which is just another sign of my Wicked Awesome Parenting.) All this, so that only your two year old can get into the plugs and the toilets and you end up yanking the door off the refrigerator because you couldn't figure out how to undo theat plasticky thing on the side, and you know...food is essentil for life. And on and on and on....

I am not saying that all of the improvements of the last couple decades have been unnecessary, not at all...in fact, while sitting in the hospital waiting room for hours on end, my sister, mom and I had many reminiscent conversations which led to Hot Dots!

Remember those reflector orange dots that they used to pass out to us on the day of Halloween to put all over our stuff so when we went trick or treating we would reflect? I thought about that...and those dots were about the size of a quarter...

Yeah, that is going to stop a truck from hitting your dressed in black tail in the middle of the road. So, You GO Glow Sticks, that is a better invention for trick or treating...

Besides, all my hot dots never made it to my costume anyway, they got put on my Saturday Night Fever album...

I know, I just aged myself.

A Quick Public Service Announcement

I am not going to get all political on you, but please, get your tails to the voting booth tomorrow. People died so we could do that you know.

And on a side note: Let your kids know that you did, so they too can know its importance.

Have a splendiferous voting day.

You may return to your regular scheduled programing....

Strange Dreams of an Insomniac

I haven't figured out why it is, that when I have insomnia, I can still dream. Is that normal? I can say that I feel like I have been up all night, know when everyone in the house got up to go to the bathroom, but at the same time, swear that I have had conversations with the Dali Lama while eating a nice sandwich at Subway. I am pretty sure this isn't normal.

So last night while I had one eye open on the clock ticking past every minute like a slow train to hell...I was able to be in college, with my first boss, Mary Barton a principal (who by the way was in her 50's back then) and talk about our Facebook pages, while cheering on my teammates at a swim meet in the Student Union Building.

Yeah I know...you all go ahead and try and analyze that one....I am going to get another cup of coffee before we head to the hospital!