My babies are growing up. They are growing up at which seems like an extremely rapid pace. In the past month, my daughter turned 7 and completed the first grade; my son turned 9 and completed the third grade. I am completely proud and thankful that I get to be their mom and am so amazed by the wonderful little people that they are becoming.
I have thought to myself countless times over the years "I can't believe how fast they are growing. I wish they would just stop." I can't seem to stop thinking of this. I think it every time I look at their pictures. I think it every time my son comes up to hug me and I can rest my chin on his head. I think it every time my daughter tells me how cute she thinks Blake Shelton is.
And then for some reason this morning I realized how lucky I am that I get to watch them grow up. Even if it is going by way too fast. Even if it seems like yesterday that I had to lay on the floor every night and rub Paige's "toe toes" to get her to go to sleep and now she is able to put herself to bed. Even if Hudson can now wear my t-shirts and socks instead of tiny baby clothes.
I see parents posting pictures of their kids with captions like "Where did the time go?" almost every day. The time passes too quickly for all of us parents. It goes by in a blink of an eye. But we are the lucky ones because sometimes parents don't get to watch their kids grow up. Some parents are only allowed to have a short time with their precious babies and I am complaining that my time with my babies is going by too quickly. I am sure any and all of those parents would trade anything in the world for the ability to utter those words.
I don't want my kids to stop growing. I do wish I could slow it down but I have been given a gift of watching them grow. I have been given the gift of watching them make mistakes and I have been given the gift of being able to say "They are driving me crazy today!" I know that not all parents have been given that gift and they deserve it.
Life isn't fair and it never will be. That is something I get to teach my kids. And I won't ever stop wishing I could slow down time just a little. But I will stop wishing that they would stop growing, because that isn't fair to them and it isn't fair to all of those parents out there that want nothing else than to watch their babies grow. I am just going to sit back and enjoy every single moment .
Wednesday, June 4, 2014
Tuesday, February 4, 2014
An Open Letter to Jenny McCarthy
Dear Jenny McCarthy,
You pissed me off today. And I mean REALLY pissed me off.
I am fairly new to your show. Prior to this season, I had only seen The View a handful of times. And no, I did not start watching it because of you, but now my schedule allows me to catch it once or twice a week and it is good background noise.
I kind of feel like I grew up with you. I watched Singled Out religiously as a teenager. My boyfriend had a poster of you on his bedroom wall. I read some of your book Belly Laughs as a new mother. I remember questioning my doctor regarding my sons vaccinations after you were so adamant that your son had autism because of said vaccinations. (Luckily, I am smart enough to get my advice from a medical professional and not a celebrity so my son did receive vaccinations.) I have always liked you. I thought you were beautiful and funny (things most girls aspire to be) and you seem like a great gal pal to have. But after today, I am adding ignorant to the words I would use to describe you.
Today you and the ladies of The View were discussing the recent finding that if a pregnant or nursing mother ate unhealthily during pregnancy and/or nursing, that child was 40% more likely to be obese than children whose mothers ate healthy foods. (At least I believe that was the statistic, I did not record the episode so I am unable to fact check that.) Whoopi astutely brought up the fact that not all neighborhoods have a Whole Foods Market and not all families can afford to shop there, even if their neighborhood was equipped with one. That sparked one of those famous (or infamous) "everyone talking over each other and no one can get a coherent sentence in and the audience is super confused moments" that I would imagine makes most people turn the channel. But today, I was able to hear what you said. And this is where I decided we can't be friends anymore. You said (and I am not quoting but it was along the lines of) "Well, maybe Mom should skip her Starbucks then."
This statement offended me beyond belief. I realize that you are a superstar and probably have very little concern regarding your grocery bills but I can promise you, most people do not have that luxury. I am very fortunate that I also do not have to worry about putting healthy food on the table to eat. Not to put us in the same category but I am very fortunate that I have a good job and am able to provide with my family without making the choice between paying the electric bill to keep the heat on or putting food in my children's' bellies.
There is a huge misconception in this country that people on food stamps or that get paid the minimum wage (or even people that get paid a good wage but still have trouble making ends meet due to other circumstances) are lazy and mismanage their money (i.e. going to Starbucks instead of buying healthy food.) I am a frequenter of Starbucks and I rarely see people in there that look as though they are spending their last few dollars on a latte. Instead you (and many others) fail to realize you can get 3 boxes of macaroni and cheese for the price of one bag of organic greens. Those 3 boxes of mac and cheese could feed a family 3 meals (albeit, not HEALTHY meals) instead of 1 meal. And anyone who has ever been on a diet knows that mac and cheese is far more filling than lettuce.
The problem in this country (one of the many) is that healthy food DOES cost exponentially more than food filled with chemicals, dyes (that are largely illegal in other countries) and GMO's. And until we can fix that issue, we cannot fix the issue of obesity. They go hand in hand. I went to the grocery store tonight and spent almost $7 on two half gallons of organic milk. $7! That could have bought 7 cans of ravioli or white bread and peanut butter (with change) if that is all the money I had to feed my family for a couple of days.
I realize, Jenny, that you were likely not meaning to offend me or others and you were probably not meaning to make a mass generalization but that is what you did. And maybe you think that the obesity problem, the hunger problem, the healthy food problem and the poverty problem in this country are unrelated but they are not. They are absolutely, 100% related to each other.
The bottom line is this, not all people that have trouble putting healthy food on the table are spending their money on Starbucks or other frivolous things. Some of them are spending their money on medical expenses, daycare, an elderly parents' care, or electric bills. Don't assume because a mother chooses to feed her kids a box of chemically laced foodless pap for dinner instead of grilled fish and veggies that she bought herself a $4 coffee that day. Remember, it might not be a CHOICE. Maybe that is all she has.
Sincerely,
Lynsey
You pissed me off today. And I mean REALLY pissed me off.
I am fairly new to your show. Prior to this season, I had only seen The View a handful of times. And no, I did not start watching it because of you, but now my schedule allows me to catch it once or twice a week and it is good background noise.
I kind of feel like I grew up with you. I watched Singled Out religiously as a teenager. My boyfriend had a poster of you on his bedroom wall. I read some of your book Belly Laughs as a new mother. I remember questioning my doctor regarding my sons vaccinations after you were so adamant that your son had autism because of said vaccinations. (Luckily, I am smart enough to get my advice from a medical professional and not a celebrity so my son did receive vaccinations.) I have always liked you. I thought you were beautiful and funny (things most girls aspire to be) and you seem like a great gal pal to have. But after today, I am adding ignorant to the words I would use to describe you.
Today you and the ladies of The View were discussing the recent finding that if a pregnant or nursing mother ate unhealthily during pregnancy and/or nursing, that child was 40% more likely to be obese than children whose mothers ate healthy foods. (At least I believe that was the statistic, I did not record the episode so I am unable to fact check that.) Whoopi astutely brought up the fact that not all neighborhoods have a Whole Foods Market and not all families can afford to shop there, even if their neighborhood was equipped with one. That sparked one of those famous (or infamous) "everyone talking over each other and no one can get a coherent sentence in and the audience is super confused moments" that I would imagine makes most people turn the channel. But today, I was able to hear what you said. And this is where I decided we can't be friends anymore. You said (and I am not quoting but it was along the lines of) "Well, maybe Mom should skip her Starbucks then."
This statement offended me beyond belief. I realize that you are a superstar and probably have very little concern regarding your grocery bills but I can promise you, most people do not have that luxury. I am very fortunate that I also do not have to worry about putting healthy food on the table to eat. Not to put us in the same category but I am very fortunate that I have a good job and am able to provide with my family without making the choice between paying the electric bill to keep the heat on or putting food in my children's' bellies.
There is a huge misconception in this country that people on food stamps or that get paid the minimum wage (or even people that get paid a good wage but still have trouble making ends meet due to other circumstances) are lazy and mismanage their money (i.e. going to Starbucks instead of buying healthy food.) I am a frequenter of Starbucks and I rarely see people in there that look as though they are spending their last few dollars on a latte. Instead you (and many others) fail to realize you can get 3 boxes of macaroni and cheese for the price of one bag of organic greens. Those 3 boxes of mac and cheese could feed a family 3 meals (albeit, not HEALTHY meals) instead of 1 meal. And anyone who has ever been on a diet knows that mac and cheese is far more filling than lettuce.
The problem in this country (one of the many) is that healthy food DOES cost exponentially more than food filled with chemicals, dyes (that are largely illegal in other countries) and GMO's. And until we can fix that issue, we cannot fix the issue of obesity. They go hand in hand. I went to the grocery store tonight and spent almost $7 on two half gallons of organic milk. $7! That could have bought 7 cans of ravioli or white bread and peanut butter (with change) if that is all the money I had to feed my family for a couple of days.
I realize, Jenny, that you were likely not meaning to offend me or others and you were probably not meaning to make a mass generalization but that is what you did. And maybe you think that the obesity problem, the hunger problem, the healthy food problem and the poverty problem in this country are unrelated but they are not. They are absolutely, 100% related to each other.
The bottom line is this, not all people that have trouble putting healthy food on the table are spending their money on Starbucks or other frivolous things. Some of them are spending their money on medical expenses, daycare, an elderly parents' care, or electric bills. Don't assume because a mother chooses to feed her kids a box of chemically laced foodless pap for dinner instead of grilled fish and veggies that she bought herself a $4 coffee that day. Remember, it might not be a CHOICE. Maybe that is all she has.
Sincerely,
Lynsey
Tuesday, September 10, 2013
Untitled
Funerals are for old people. Grandparents, long lost great uncles or aunts, old family friends of your parents or grandparents that left legacies and families and memories to be celebrated. You should be able to look around at a funeral home and smile at a memory, laugh at a heart warming story and see the life that person lived in the faces of their friends and family. After leaving a funeral, you should be able to walk away and say "I sure will miss him but look at his life. He had a great one." You should be warmed by the memories you shared and feel comfort that your lost one lived life to the fullest and was happy when they left.
Over the last few years, I have had the privilege of attending a few of such funerals. Though heart-breakingly sad, I was amazed by what these men had left behind in their friends and their families. I was saddened that their lives had come to an end but I felt restored that they had made memories, built families and their lives would live on in their friends and families.
In the very recent past, I have unfortunately had to attend funerals for people that were far too young to die. People that were MY age. People that had only begun their lives. I saw a friend that I had known since grade school leave behind 2 small boys. I watched a family mourn the loss of my ex boyfriend from high school who had so much more to do with his life. Recently, a friend lost his nephew who was only 30. I felt these terrible tragedies deeply and I mourned for them all.
But none of that prepared me for this. Sunday my whole world was rocked when I learned that another old friend, I have known her for as long as I can remember, had lost her 9 month old baby girl. I was reduced to tears just by checking my Facebook. I had never met the baby and to be perfectly honest, haven't actually spoken to my friend in years. However, we have been Facebook friends for several years and I always enjoyed reading her posts. We have vastly different political and religious views but we were able to connect over being single moms, her constant challenges of herself "just to see if she could do it," healthy eating and our general positive attitudes. At least, she greatly touched me and always made me smile with her positivism and general quirkiness. I hope I was able to make her smile sometimes as well. I actually feel closer to her now than when we actual every day friends.
She has had a very difficult past few years including a divorce and all the heartbreak that goes along with it and most recently health issues. But this is beyond all comprehension. She loved her daughters with all she had in her and anyone who knows her (in real life or virtually) can see that. To have a baby taken away from you, before she had even begun to live, is unfathomable to me. I can't even find the words to say and even if I could, they wouldn't be able to make a dent in the pain that I am sure she feels.
I am shocked at how hard I have taken the news. Again, I never met the baby girl. But I loved seeing her beautiful smile in Facebook pictures. I loved the posts about her "firsts" and how much her big sister loved her. I loved seeing the posts of a frantic mother than was stretched too thin but would never give up and was showing her daughters how to be a strong, independent, positive woman. I know that any reappearance of those happy posts will be a long time coming, but I hope she will be able to find her voice again. I don't think Mindy realized how many people she affected on a daily basis, but I can tell from her Facebook wall now, I was not the only one who smiled at her commentary on life.
People say "Everything happens for a reason." Being a non religious person, I have always felt that is a cop out. My belief is that people say that to make themselves feel better about their situation. But I can honestly say, for the first time in my life, I hope with all that is within me that it is, in fact, true. I cannot begin to imagine what the reason would be for a 9 month old to leave her mother and her sister, and how a mother can possibly continue to live in this world without her baby, but I pray that there is a reason and that Mindy can somehow overcome this terrible tragedy and give Alli a legacy, even though she was far too young to create her own.
Over the last few years, I have had the privilege of attending a few of such funerals. Though heart-breakingly sad, I was amazed by what these men had left behind in their friends and their families. I was saddened that their lives had come to an end but I felt restored that they had made memories, built families and their lives would live on in their friends and families.
In the very recent past, I have unfortunately had to attend funerals for people that were far too young to die. People that were MY age. People that had only begun their lives. I saw a friend that I had known since grade school leave behind 2 small boys. I watched a family mourn the loss of my ex boyfriend from high school who had so much more to do with his life. Recently, a friend lost his nephew who was only 30. I felt these terrible tragedies deeply and I mourned for them all.
But none of that prepared me for this. Sunday my whole world was rocked when I learned that another old friend, I have known her for as long as I can remember, had lost her 9 month old baby girl. I was reduced to tears just by checking my Facebook. I had never met the baby and to be perfectly honest, haven't actually spoken to my friend in years. However, we have been Facebook friends for several years and I always enjoyed reading her posts. We have vastly different political and religious views but we were able to connect over being single moms, her constant challenges of herself "just to see if she could do it," healthy eating and our general positive attitudes. At least, she greatly touched me and always made me smile with her positivism and general quirkiness. I hope I was able to make her smile sometimes as well. I actually feel closer to her now than when we actual every day friends.
She has had a very difficult past few years including a divorce and all the heartbreak that goes along with it and most recently health issues. But this is beyond all comprehension. She loved her daughters with all she had in her and anyone who knows her (in real life or virtually) can see that. To have a baby taken away from you, before she had even begun to live, is unfathomable to me. I can't even find the words to say and even if I could, they wouldn't be able to make a dent in the pain that I am sure she feels.
I am shocked at how hard I have taken the news. Again, I never met the baby girl. But I loved seeing her beautiful smile in Facebook pictures. I loved the posts about her "firsts" and how much her big sister loved her. I loved seeing the posts of a frantic mother than was stretched too thin but would never give up and was showing her daughters how to be a strong, independent, positive woman. I know that any reappearance of those happy posts will be a long time coming, but I hope she will be able to find her voice again. I don't think Mindy realized how many people she affected on a daily basis, but I can tell from her Facebook wall now, I was not the only one who smiled at her commentary on life.
People say "Everything happens for a reason." Being a non religious person, I have always felt that is a cop out. My belief is that people say that to make themselves feel better about their situation. But I can honestly say, for the first time in my life, I hope with all that is within me that it is, in fact, true. I cannot begin to imagine what the reason would be for a 9 month old to leave her mother and her sister, and how a mother can possibly continue to live in this world without her baby, but I pray that there is a reason and that Mindy can somehow overcome this terrible tragedy and give Alli a legacy, even though she was far too young to create her own.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
A Glimpse into My Future
Last night I had a glimpse into my future and I am here to tell you, it wasn't pretty. My (almost) 4 year old daughter, Paige, had a melt down of teenage magnitude. Help me, Sweet Baby Jesus, for when she actually is a teenager, I fear it will be even worse. Last night, it was anything but funny, but today, as I shared my tale with a friend, I managed to find humor in it. Here, for your reading pleasure, (and please feel free to laugh at my pain) I will transcribe last night's events.
**Please note that no parties in the following true story were anything but superficially harmed and will not suffer any permanent damage (fingers crossed.)**
I got off of work early to spend some quality time with my beautiful children. I had a great day at work and was excited to see them. Things couldn't be better. They began playing nicely with each other with the balloons that I had brought home from work for them. That was my first mistake. NEVER get too comfortable with a 4 year old and a 6 year old. The ruckus began.
Hudson yelled, "She punched me!" Paige yelled "He went like this!" and grabbed at the front of her shirt. I tried to get the whole story, which is next to impossible at this age, but the most I got was that Paige punched Hudson 'cause Hudson "went like this."
I told them that since they were unable to get along, we would NOT be getting ice cream as a treat. Apparently, that is code for Paige to assume that not only would we not be getting ice cream but I would also be brutally murdering her in her sleep because she literally burst into tears and started screaming "I'll be good! I'll be good!"
Now, my beautiful, funny and charming daughter has always been somewhat dramatic and this is not my first rodeo with the meltdowns. However, this one was as swift as it was fierce. It came like a ninja in the night - out of nowhere. I calmly told her that she would not be able to leave her room until she calmed down and stopped crying. Then Hudson and I left the room.
This tactic is like trying to eat tomato soup with a fork. It just doesn't work. She kept screaming and crying. And she does this thing with her right leg whenever she gets upset. She locks her knee and leans on it so that it almost looks like it was bent backwards. She does it every time and once the leg is locked, there is no turning back.
We were in the living room trying to read a book and I could hear her screaming and crying the whole time. Then she started screaming "My leg hurts, my leg hurts!" Ya think? You have it bent almost in half in the way it is NOT supposed to be bent. So, because her leg hurts so bad, she army crawls, yes army crawls, as if under fire into the living room to tell me that she is hurt. I said "What hurts?" She screams "My leg! My head! It hurts!" I told her that if she calmed down she would stop hurting. She started grabbing at her neck, "I can't breathe! I can't breathe!" I said, "Then you need to calm down." She screamed "You are so mean!" and ran back down the hall into her room and slammed the door.
Then, I admit it, I kind of lost it. I followed her to her room and swatted her behind. I said (well, I kind of yelled it) "You can't talk to me like that and you are staying in this room until you can calm down and treat people nicely." Then I slammed the door.
And then, like any mom (I almost said "good mom" but then decided against it because I am not entirely sure it would be true) I stood outside her door and listened to her rant and rave. Yes, my (almost) four year old was ranting and raving. She said (and this is almost verbatim) "I don't want a dog. I don't want a pony. I don't want my bed. I don't want noffing. I just want my daddy." She said this over and over again. (I m not sure why she is denouncing the pony, she doesn't have one, nor has she ever been promised one, but she was adamant that she didn't want one.)
Then I felt bad. I thought about (right or wrong) how she must feel and that I had hurt her feelings. I couldn't stand listening to her crying. I opened the door to talk to her. She looked up at me and screamed "GET OUT OF MY ROOM!" (Projectile vomiting of pea soup was not out of the realm of possibilites, at this point.)
Yeah, the compassion that I was feeling immediately left my body and all I could see was red. I believe there was actually steam coming out of my ears. (She got swatted again.) Then I started in on the "Do you pay the bills in this house? No, I do! THIS IS MY ROOM!" Seriously, Lynsey? You are doing this with a four year old? But I did. I left and slammed the door again. Poor little Hudson was just chillin in the living room with his book, waiting for story time. (This is not his first rodeo either.)
I read to him a little and then went back to the House of Horrors which contained my beautiful little demon. I gingerly opened the door as not to startle her. She was laying in her bed whimpering. I asked her if she was ready to apologize. She said yes. She said "I'm sorry I yelled, but Hudson did this." "Nope, try again, Little Lady. No blaming anyone but yourself."
She says, "Well, sometimes Sam [her cousin] is mean to me."
Me: "That is not the issue. You were mean to us, and it doesn't matter why. You just have to apologize."
Paige: "But Hudson did this."
Me: "You need to apologize."
Paige: "Ok, I'm sorry I wasn't nice."
Me: "Hudson and I are reading in the living room. Please feel free to join us when you are ready."
(There was a little more of the back and forth about the apology, it didn't come swiftly or easily but it seems redundant for the purposes of this story.)
A few minutes later, she came out of her room and cuddled in my lap. The rest of the night proceeded without incident. She even warned me not to go into the "soggy woods" (foggy woods) lest I get bitten by the monster that lives there.
When I put her to bed, she said "Mommy, you are the bestest, bestest, bestest Mommy ever. I love you." I wonder if (almost) four year olds can be bipolar....
**Please note that no parties in the following true story were anything but superficially harmed and will not suffer any permanent damage (fingers crossed.)**
I got off of work early to spend some quality time with my beautiful children. I had a great day at work and was excited to see them. Things couldn't be better. They began playing nicely with each other with the balloons that I had brought home from work for them. That was my first mistake. NEVER get too comfortable with a 4 year old and a 6 year old. The ruckus began.
Hudson yelled, "She punched me!" Paige yelled "He went like this!" and grabbed at the front of her shirt. I tried to get the whole story, which is next to impossible at this age, but the most I got was that Paige punched Hudson 'cause Hudson "went like this."
I told them that since they were unable to get along, we would NOT be getting ice cream as a treat. Apparently, that is code for Paige to assume that not only would we not be getting ice cream but I would also be brutally murdering her in her sleep because she literally burst into tears and started screaming "I'll be good! I'll be good!"
Now, my beautiful, funny and charming daughter has always been somewhat dramatic and this is not my first rodeo with the meltdowns. However, this one was as swift as it was fierce. It came like a ninja in the night - out of nowhere. I calmly told her that she would not be able to leave her room until she calmed down and stopped crying. Then Hudson and I left the room.
This tactic is like trying to eat tomato soup with a fork. It just doesn't work. She kept screaming and crying. And she does this thing with her right leg whenever she gets upset. She locks her knee and leans on it so that it almost looks like it was bent backwards. She does it every time and once the leg is locked, there is no turning back.
We were in the living room trying to read a book and I could hear her screaming and crying the whole time. Then she started screaming "My leg hurts, my leg hurts!" Ya think? You have it bent almost in half in the way it is NOT supposed to be bent. So, because her leg hurts so bad, she army crawls, yes army crawls, as if under fire into the living room to tell me that she is hurt. I said "What hurts?" She screams "My leg! My head! It hurts!" I told her that if she calmed down she would stop hurting. She started grabbing at her neck, "I can't breathe! I can't breathe!" I said, "Then you need to calm down." She screamed "You are so mean!" and ran back down the hall into her room and slammed the door.
Then, I admit it, I kind of lost it. I followed her to her room and swatted her behind. I said (well, I kind of yelled it) "You can't talk to me like that and you are staying in this room until you can calm down and treat people nicely." Then I slammed the door.
And then, like any mom (I almost said "good mom" but then decided against it because I am not entirely sure it would be true) I stood outside her door and listened to her rant and rave. Yes, my (almost) four year old was ranting and raving. She said (and this is almost verbatim) "I don't want a dog. I don't want a pony. I don't want my bed. I don't want noffing. I just want my daddy." She said this over and over again. (I m not sure why she is denouncing the pony, she doesn't have one, nor has she ever been promised one, but she was adamant that she didn't want one.)
Then I felt bad. I thought about (right or wrong) how she must feel and that I had hurt her feelings. I couldn't stand listening to her crying. I opened the door to talk to her. She looked up at me and screamed "GET OUT OF MY ROOM!" (Projectile vomiting of pea soup was not out of the realm of possibilites, at this point.)
Yeah, the compassion that I was feeling immediately left my body and all I could see was red. I believe there was actually steam coming out of my ears. (She got swatted again.) Then I started in on the "Do you pay the bills in this house? No, I do! THIS IS MY ROOM!" Seriously, Lynsey? You are doing this with a four year old? But I did. I left and slammed the door again. Poor little Hudson was just chillin in the living room with his book, waiting for story time. (This is not his first rodeo either.)
I read to him a little and then went back to the House of Horrors which contained my beautiful little demon. I gingerly opened the door as not to startle her. She was laying in her bed whimpering. I asked her if she was ready to apologize. She said yes. She said "I'm sorry I yelled, but Hudson did this." "Nope, try again, Little Lady. No blaming anyone but yourself."
She says, "Well, sometimes Sam [her cousin] is mean to me."
Me: "That is not the issue. You were mean to us, and it doesn't matter why. You just have to apologize."
Paige: "But Hudson did this."
Me: "You need to apologize."
Paige: "Ok, I'm sorry I wasn't nice."
Me: "Hudson and I are reading in the living room. Please feel free to join us when you are ready."
(There was a little more of the back and forth about the apology, it didn't come swiftly or easily but it seems redundant for the purposes of this story.)
A few minutes later, she came out of her room and cuddled in my lap. The rest of the night proceeded without incident. She even warned me not to go into the "soggy woods" (foggy woods) lest I get bitten by the monster that lives there.
When I put her to bed, she said "Mommy, you are the bestest, bestest, bestest Mommy ever. I love you." I wonder if (almost) four year olds can be bipolar....
Friday, April 15, 2011
These Are A Few of My Favorite Words
I fancy myself somewhat of a wordsmith. I love words with my whole heart. Dictionary.com is saved to my "favorites" and I still have the dictionary I got as the "English Award" as a senior in high school. Of course, there are some words that I hate: fluid (because it is never used in a positive way), penetrate (for obvious reasons) and the majority of words that have an "i" and "e" in succession because they are hard to spell. But, there are also a lot of words that I LOVE. I want to use them every day and I actually get excited when I hear other people use them. This is a list of some of my favorite words and of course, in the true sense of Vocab class with Ms. Estep, I will proceed to use them in a sentence. Lieu - In LIEU of listening to Stevie Nicks, why don't we listen to a goat dying? It is pretty much the same. (This word is much different than the word "loo" but I really like that one too! Also, I realize that this goes against the "i" and "e" theory, but that is a testament to the awesomeness of this word. It's a really good one.) Plethora - Just because I have a PLETHORA of shoes, doesn't mean that I don't need a new pair! Imminent - My weight gain is IMMINENT when I choose to eat hot wings and blue cheese instead of raw veggies and hummus. (This is so true!) Ensue - Hilarity ENSUEs whenever I am in a reasonable distance of a karaoke machine. Melancholy - Melon Collie and the Infinite Sadness makes me MELANCHOLY because I despise that Billy Corgan! Sufficient - No thank you, three shots of tequila is SUFFICIENT for me! Inexplicable - Kristen's hair is INEXPLICABLE today! (This is a real sentence, not made up for this blog, and yes, her hair was inexplicable that day!) Assail - "Bowel-shaking earthquakes of doubt and remorse, ASSAIL him, impale him with monster truck force." (This is a lyric from "The Distance" by Cake, but it was also one of our vocab words. See Ms. E, I actually was listening!) Any given day - Jodi cannot, in fact, beat Lynsey in a foot race on ANY GIVEN DAY. (I realize that this is a phrase but it makes me smile whenever I hear it.) These are just a few of my favorite words.... (can any one else hear the Sound of Music?) I love words and grammar and spelling and punctuation. On a side note, my favorite punctuation mark is the semicolon. There is a sentence at the end The Cider House Rules by John Irving that has TWO semicolons in it! That sentence makes my whole day! I realize that this entire blog makes me seem like a nerd, but I am OK with it. That doesn't make me MELANCHOLY at all!
Sunday, January 2, 2011
A Year without New Clothes
It is no secret that I have a shopping problem. I kind of always have. I love to shop. I love the thrill of the hunt. I like searching through the sale racks to find that perfect dress that maybe I don't need right now, but it is on clearance and it fits like a glove. I have a passion for reinventing a plain white sweater and jeans into a fabulous ensemble by adding a chunky belt and my personalized Converse tennies (if I was British I would have typed "trainers" there. I wish I was British.) I am the Queen of the Bargain Hunters and Making it Work. However, it has to stop. The madness has to stop.
My closet is overflowing. My drawers are overflowing. My laundry room is overflowing. I sometimes randomly find tops that I had forgotten I owned. How do I get control over an addiction that I LOVE to have? It is New Year's Resolution time, Baby!
Now, my initial thought was to not shop for an entire year. I have enough clothes that I can find something for every occasion. But here is the deal, I love to shop. It is my addiction, my past time, my hobby. I know that it seems silly and vain but the heart wants what it wants and mine wants new clothes!
My revised resolution? To not buy any "new clothes." I can only buy previously owned, gently used, clothing. This means, thrift stores, here I come. I have become quite the frequenter of thrift stores in the past few years, but I am ready to step up my game. The only NEW clothing items that I will be purchasing in 2011 will be socks, undergarments and bathing suits (because second hand panties are just NOT OK!)
I am really excited about my goal, I hope I have not set my hopes too high. Only good can come of this: 1. I can rid myself of an addiction. 2. I am helping the environment by buying "recycled" clothing. 3. The majority of thrift stores are locally owned so I will be supporting local businesses or they are owned by organizations that reinvest in the community by job placement and such (i.e. Goodwill) 4. I will stimulate the creative areas of my brain because I am really going to have to think outside of the box when it comes to putting together outfits. (I may even have to learn to sew!) and lastly, 5. It should really make an impact on my checkbook balance! You can get jeans at the Goodwill for $3!
I will be recording my adventure for all to read and to hold myself accountable. I am completely committed to do this and am so looking forward to it. I get excited just thinking about all of deals and interesting clothes just lying in wait for me. Wish me luck!
Jan 3
Three days in and I haven't bought anything! I am so proud of me. I don't even have any withdrawals yet! (Of course, I did buy a camera yesterday, but that is not a clothing item and I really did need it - it's to take pictures of my kids for crying out loud!) Anyway, I realize that three days is not a very long time, but I am counting the mini victories along the way!
My closet is overflowing. My drawers are overflowing. My laundry room is overflowing. I sometimes randomly find tops that I had forgotten I owned. How do I get control over an addiction that I LOVE to have? It is New Year's Resolution time, Baby!
Now, my initial thought was to not shop for an entire year. I have enough clothes that I can find something for every occasion. But here is the deal, I love to shop. It is my addiction, my past time, my hobby. I know that it seems silly and vain but the heart wants what it wants and mine wants new clothes!
My revised resolution? To not buy any "new clothes." I can only buy previously owned, gently used, clothing. This means, thrift stores, here I come. I have become quite the frequenter of thrift stores in the past few years, but I am ready to step up my game. The only NEW clothing items that I will be purchasing in 2011 will be socks, undergarments and bathing suits (because second hand panties are just NOT OK!)
I am really excited about my goal, I hope I have not set my hopes too high. Only good can come of this: 1. I can rid myself of an addiction. 2. I am helping the environment by buying "recycled" clothing. 3. The majority of thrift stores are locally owned so I will be supporting local businesses or they are owned by organizations that reinvest in the community by job placement and such (i.e. Goodwill) 4. I will stimulate the creative areas of my brain because I am really going to have to think outside of the box when it comes to putting together outfits. (I may even have to learn to sew!) and lastly, 5. It should really make an impact on my checkbook balance! You can get jeans at the Goodwill for $3!
I will be recording my adventure for all to read and to hold myself accountable. I am completely committed to do this and am so looking forward to it. I get excited just thinking about all of deals and interesting clothes just lying in wait for me. Wish me luck!
Jan 3
Three days in and I haven't bought anything! I am so proud of me. I don't even have any withdrawals yet! (Of course, I did buy a camera yesterday, but that is not a clothing item and I really did need it - it's to take pictures of my kids for crying out loud!) Anyway, I realize that three days is not a very long time, but I am counting the mini victories along the way!
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Art As We Know It
I like to consider myself an artist. I doubt many people would put me in that category, but that is how I regard myself. That being said, I subscribe to the theory of "Free Art" which I may have made up. The basis of this theory is this: "It is mine and it may appear to you that I messed up but you can't prove that I didn't fully intend for it to look like that." Also, it is free art because no one has ever and likely will never pay me for any of my creations.
I did make a pretty rockin' painting for my dad for Christmas. It is one of my most favorite things I have ever made. While I was basking in the glory of my art (this is intended as a tongue in cheek comment), I started thinking about what it is to be an artist. I think it is creating something beautiful (in the eye of the beholder) out of nothing. I looked it up on the internet and the best definition that I could find for my specific use is this (courtesy of dictionary.com): a person who produces works in any of the arts that are primarily subject to aesthetic criteria.
This led me to another thought. (I have a lot of thoughts.) As a mother, I am an artist. All parants are artists. Our children are blank canvases. They are created out of a mess of cells and fluid and hopefully love, but let's face it, that's not always the case. They come out of the womb ready to be molded and shaped into beautiful creatures that can out in the world to create more beauty and wonder.
We parents, as artists, must do our due dilligence to mold and shape our children to be aesthetically pleasing. I don't mean to the eye; I am referring to shaping them to be beautiful human beings. Where it gets tricky is making sure they continue to be aesthetically pleasing as adults.
What we feed our children (metaphorically) is what they put out in the world. If you feed your children greed, anger and closed mindedness, why are you surprised that they are assholes? If you feed them schedules, rules and militant behavior, are you going to be shocked when they are uptight? Remember, children learn primarily by example. They do not subscribe to the "Do as I say, not as I do mentatlity." I like to feed my children laughter, music and glitter.
Being a artist (parent) is a huge responsibility. I am not sure the "Free Art" theory applies to parenting. You will know when my children grow up exactly the kind of parent I was. I sincerely hope I don't screw this up. I am sure that my children will not make it through their childhood with out a few metaphorical scars. I hope to keep them to a minimum though.
My children are the work of a lifetime. I still learn things from my parents today and even though my grandfather passed away, I am sure that he is still working on his art through my mother and even me. To me, there is nothing greater than looking at something beautiful that you have created and saying "I did that." That is how I feel when I look at my children.
I did make a pretty rockin' painting for my dad for Christmas. It is one of my most favorite things I have ever made. While I was basking in the glory of my art (this is intended as a tongue in cheek comment), I started thinking about what it is to be an artist. I think it is creating something beautiful (in the eye of the beholder) out of nothing. I looked it up on the internet and the best definition that I could find for my specific use is this (courtesy of dictionary.com): a person who produces works in any of the arts that are primarily subject to aesthetic criteria.
This led me to another thought. (I have a lot of thoughts.) As a mother, I am an artist. All parants are artists. Our children are blank canvases. They are created out of a mess of cells and fluid and hopefully love, but let's face it, that's not always the case. They come out of the womb ready to be molded and shaped into beautiful creatures that can out in the world to create more beauty and wonder.
We parents, as artists, must do our due dilligence to mold and shape our children to be aesthetically pleasing. I don't mean to the eye; I am referring to shaping them to be beautiful human beings. Where it gets tricky is making sure they continue to be aesthetically pleasing as adults.
What we feed our children (metaphorically) is what they put out in the world. If you feed your children greed, anger and closed mindedness, why are you surprised that they are assholes? If you feed them schedules, rules and militant behavior, are you going to be shocked when they are uptight? Remember, children learn primarily by example. They do not subscribe to the "Do as I say, not as I do mentatlity." I like to feed my children laughter, music and glitter.
Being a artist (parent) is a huge responsibility. I am not sure the "Free Art" theory applies to parenting. You will know when my children grow up exactly the kind of parent I was. I sincerely hope I don't screw this up. I am sure that my children will not make it through their childhood with out a few metaphorical scars. I hope to keep them to a minimum though.
My children are the work of a lifetime. I still learn things from my parents today and even though my grandfather passed away, I am sure that he is still working on his art through my mother and even me. To me, there is nothing greater than looking at something beautiful that you have created and saying "I did that." That is how I feel when I look at my children.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Thanksgiving?
The story of the first Thanksgiving is a good one. People can't get enough of it. Who doesn't want hand towels in the bathroom depicting smiling blond haired, blue eyed Pilgrims with their arms around a Native American wearing nothing but a loin cloth and a headdress. (Never mind the fact that it was harvest time in frickin' New England...) Thanksgiving was to celebrate the fact that the Pilgrims had survived the first few years in the New World with the help of their new BFF's, the Wampanoag Tribe. The Native Americans taught the white man how to live off the land, fish and grow food. The Native Americans helped the white man learn how to survive. It is no wonder we invited them to dinner, all of the Pilgrims would have been dead without them. The Native Americans saved the Pilgrims lives. That commands some serious thanks.
Now let's think about how the Pilgrims showed their appreciation for all that was given so freely from their new friends:
1. Disease - we brought small pox, plague (bubonic and others), influenza, tuberculosis and, hello? SYPHILIS! Who can't get enough of that?
2. Modern weaponry - while this can be helpful when defending oneself and in hunting food, wasn't it just the beginning of weapons of mass destruction?
3. Thievery - Clearly, they were here first. We came in (looking for solace from religious persecution) and took their land. Then we decided to start bossing these INDIGENOUS people around. They had their own tribes with governing bodies. There was war between tribes, of course, as with all civilization. But I have heard some make the argument that these these HUMAN BEINGS were barbarians and needed us to come in and teach them how to behave civilly, which brings me to my next point...
4. The Trail of Tears - I realize that the tribes that walked the trail were not the Wampanoag, however, they were still the "owners" of this land that we call America, that we so rudely swooped in and stole, just because we could. Apparently, the irony was lost on Andrew Jackson, that we were only here because we wanted to be free so we decided to take away the rights and freedom of an entire race of people whose land we took from them.
5. Retribution - In 2000, the Bureau of Indian Affairs officially apologized for having taken part in ethnic cleansing (took us long enough, didn't it?) To make up for our atrocious behavior, we have allowed these native people to live in reservations (of our choosing), the right to own and operate casinos and declared them a minority to further their chances of getting an education and job (again with the irony of the fact that they are a minority because of genocide at the hands of the white man is lost on so many.)
There are a lot of arguments (mainly from white males) that THEY are now the most discriminated against race/gender because "we" make so many allowances for the minorities. I respectfully disagree. The white male is rarely discriminated against in the work place. They are the highest paid and generally speaking have had it pretty easy. (The majority of white males did not grow up on a reservation or in the ghetto.) There are a lot of arguments that today's generation of whites don't owe today's generation of minorities anything because "we" didn't do anything to "them." While I agree that "we" didn't, shouldn't "we" step up to the plate and help our fellow humans out for all of the injustice in the world, regardless of who was at the heart of it? If we don't stop saying "I didn't do anything, why should I have to pay?" then nothing will ever get better.
I, with my entire heart and being, believe that we should give thanks to ourselves, our friends, our families and to our gods (if you so choose) for all that we have in our lives. But let's face it, the "Story of Thanksgiving" is as much of a fairy tale as Cinderella or Pretty Woman. It would be awesome if life was like that but it is not. This world is an ugly place and unfortunately, the "greedy white man" is usually at the center of it. I will teach my children to be thankful for all that they have. I remind them every day that they have so much to be thankful for. They are loved, never go to bed hungry, have a warm place to sleep and clothes on their backs. This is more than a lot of people have and will ever have. But I refuse to take the one day that is supposed to be about appreciating what we have and spend the entire day running around, shopping, cooking, cleaning and stressing out to make sure my family and I have a picture perfect day in which to give thanks instead of actually spending time with them. Do you think that is what our friends, the Native Americans, are doing? Nope, I bet they are thinking about all they did for us and kicking themselves in the ass!
Now let's think about how the Pilgrims showed their appreciation for all that was given so freely from their new friends:
1. Disease - we brought small pox, plague (bubonic and others), influenza, tuberculosis and, hello? SYPHILIS! Who can't get enough of that?
2. Modern weaponry - while this can be helpful when defending oneself and in hunting food, wasn't it just the beginning of weapons of mass destruction?
3. Thievery - Clearly, they were here first. We came in (looking for solace from religious persecution) and took their land. Then we decided to start bossing these INDIGENOUS people around. They had their own tribes with governing bodies. There was war between tribes, of course, as with all civilization. But I have heard some make the argument that these these HUMAN BEINGS were barbarians and needed us to come in and teach them how to behave civilly, which brings me to my next point...
4. The Trail of Tears - I realize that the tribes that walked the trail were not the Wampanoag, however, they were still the "owners" of this land that we call America, that we so rudely swooped in and stole, just because we could. Apparently, the irony was lost on Andrew Jackson, that we were only here because we wanted to be free so we decided to take away the rights and freedom of an entire race of people whose land we took from them.
5. Retribution - In 2000, the Bureau of Indian Affairs officially apologized for having taken part in ethnic cleansing (took us long enough, didn't it?) To make up for our atrocious behavior, we have allowed these native people to live in reservations (of our choosing), the right to own and operate casinos and declared them a minority to further their chances of getting an education and job (again with the irony of the fact that they are a minority because of genocide at the hands of the white man is lost on so many.)
There are a lot of arguments (mainly from white males) that THEY are now the most discriminated against race/gender because "we" make so many allowances for the minorities. I respectfully disagree. The white male is rarely discriminated against in the work place. They are the highest paid and generally speaking have had it pretty easy. (The majority of white males did not grow up on a reservation or in the ghetto.) There are a lot of arguments that today's generation of whites don't owe today's generation of minorities anything because "we" didn't do anything to "them." While I agree that "we" didn't, shouldn't "we" step up to the plate and help our fellow humans out for all of the injustice in the world, regardless of who was at the heart of it? If we don't stop saying "I didn't do anything, why should I have to pay?" then nothing will ever get better.
I, with my entire heart and being, believe that we should give thanks to ourselves, our friends, our families and to our gods (if you so choose) for all that we have in our lives. But let's face it, the "Story of Thanksgiving" is as much of a fairy tale as Cinderella or Pretty Woman. It would be awesome if life was like that but it is not. This world is an ugly place and unfortunately, the "greedy white man" is usually at the center of it. I will teach my children to be thankful for all that they have. I remind them every day that they have so much to be thankful for. They are loved, never go to bed hungry, have a warm place to sleep and clothes on their backs. This is more than a lot of people have and will ever have. But I refuse to take the one day that is supposed to be about appreciating what we have and spend the entire day running around, shopping, cooking, cleaning and stressing out to make sure my family and I have a picture perfect day in which to give thanks instead of actually spending time with them. Do you think that is what our friends, the Native Americans, are doing? Nope, I bet they are thinking about all they did for us and kicking themselves in the ass!
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
How Garry Marshall, Julia Roberts and Richard Gere Ruined My Life
***The following piece of writing is purely a work of satire. Although the views in this blog are 100% my true feelings, I do know the difference between fact and fiction. Pretty Woman did not, in fact, ruin my life. It has only succeeded in irritating me and exacerbating societal issues with young girls and women of lesser intelligence and more susceptibility to the power of suggestion.***
In 1990, the movie Pretty Woman opened in wide release. It was critically acclaimed and nominated for several awards. It won a Golden Globe for Best Comedy. Of course, since I was ten when the movie came out, and because my parents were "involved" in my life, I didn't get to see it until I was almost 12 at a friend's house. (Her mother was decidedly less involved than mine.)
Considering the director is a beloved and well respected member of Hollywood and the fact that the leading roles are played by none other than "America's Sweetheart" and an "American Gigolo" (I am pretty sure that Vick still won't let me watch that movie) the movie has done well for itself in the last 20 years. Just ask any woman over the age of 25. It is the modern day Cinderella story (don't get me started on Cinderella...) But here is the problem. Not only is the movie filled with gum drops and rainbows so to speak, it also says "Go ahead, be a whore. Your prince will come one day and there will be no judgement."
But, I am here to tell you, it is a load of crap. Power brokers may in fact pick up a hooker in downtown LA but they aren't going to let you drive their six figure price tag, BORROWED car. They will not take you to the Hilton. They will not ask you to leave when they think you are doing drugs (because they are more than likely snorting a line of coke off of your belly) and they certainly will not think you are cute when you a guffawing at "I Love Lucy."
Men who pick up hookers do not care that "kissing on the mouth is too personal." They won't give you thousands of dollars to buy a dress so that you can eat escargot with a whale of a client. They don't want you to spend the week with them.
There are so many lies and fabrications in this movie it has surpassed ridiculousness. Really ladies, this is our fantasy? Do we want to be hookers and have to sell our bodies to make rent cause our crackhead roommate Kit spent it on drugs (and really? we keep the rent money in the toilet tank?) No, I say, if you want to be a hooker, be a hooker! But let's be honest about it and not have false expectations that we will soon meet a man that will ride up to our apartment in a white limo and climb the fire escape to whisk us off to life of luxury after knowing us for a week (in the regular and biblical sense.)
If you are going to be a hooker, just say, "I don't want to get a real job." I want to have sex and get paid for it (even if you tell yourself and others it is to pay for law school....) But you should be prepared for the fact that any man that sleeps with you while you are a hooker (or even a stripper, for that matter) will never marry you. He will never take you to the opera or a polo match. He will never tell any of his friends exactly how you make a living. (He will, however, tell them you are in public relations. That is assuming he is ever inclined to introduce you to any one he has ever met.)
You have to own it, ladies. Don't buy into the fairy tale. It is called a fairy tale for a reason. Because it will never happen. Be strong, independent women. Don't be hookers. Unless that is what YOU choose to do, then by all means do it. But don't make excuses. I am not interested in excuses.
And to you Garry Marshall, Julia Roberts and Richard Gere- kudos to you for making one hell of a movie!
In 1990, the movie Pretty Woman opened in wide release. It was critically acclaimed and nominated for several awards. It won a Golden Globe for Best Comedy. Of course, since I was ten when the movie came out, and because my parents were "involved" in my life, I didn't get to see it until I was almost 12 at a friend's house. (Her mother was decidedly less involved than mine.)
Considering the director is a beloved and well respected member of Hollywood and the fact that the leading roles are played by none other than "America's Sweetheart" and an "American Gigolo" (I am pretty sure that Vick still won't let me watch that movie) the movie has done well for itself in the last 20 years. Just ask any woman over the age of 25. It is the modern day Cinderella story (don't get me started on Cinderella...) But here is the problem. Not only is the movie filled with gum drops and rainbows so to speak, it also says "Go ahead, be a whore. Your prince will come one day and there will be no judgement."
But, I am here to tell you, it is a load of crap. Power brokers may in fact pick up a hooker in downtown LA but they aren't going to let you drive their six figure price tag, BORROWED car. They will not take you to the Hilton. They will not ask you to leave when they think you are doing drugs (because they are more than likely snorting a line of coke off of your belly) and they certainly will not think you are cute when you a guffawing at "I Love Lucy."
Men who pick up hookers do not care that "kissing on the mouth is too personal." They won't give you thousands of dollars to buy a dress so that you can eat escargot with a whale of a client. They don't want you to spend the week with them.
There are so many lies and fabrications in this movie it has surpassed ridiculousness. Really ladies, this is our fantasy? Do we want to be hookers and have to sell our bodies to make rent cause our crackhead roommate Kit spent it on drugs (and really? we keep the rent money in the toilet tank?) No, I say, if you want to be a hooker, be a hooker! But let's be honest about it and not have false expectations that we will soon meet a man that will ride up to our apartment in a white limo and climb the fire escape to whisk us off to life of luxury after knowing us for a week (in the regular and biblical sense.)
If you are going to be a hooker, just say, "I don't want to get a real job." I want to have sex and get paid for it (even if you tell yourself and others it is to pay for law school....) But you should be prepared for the fact that any man that sleeps with you while you are a hooker (or even a stripper, for that matter) will never marry you. He will never take you to the opera or a polo match. He will never tell any of his friends exactly how you make a living. (He will, however, tell them you are in public relations. That is assuming he is ever inclined to introduce you to any one he has ever met.)
You have to own it, ladies. Don't buy into the fairy tale. It is called a fairy tale for a reason. Because it will never happen. Be strong, independent women. Don't be hookers. Unless that is what YOU choose to do, then by all means do it. But don't make excuses. I am not interested in excuses.
And to you Garry Marshall, Julia Roberts and Richard Gere- kudos to you for making one hell of a movie!
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Ten Things I Learned from St. Louis
Last weekend my best friends and I took a long weekend in St. Louis. It was my first time in Missouri and while my mother was sure to inform me that there was "so much history" in St. Louis and there are tons of museums, I was bound and determined not to learn anything on my weekend away from responsibilities and being a grown up. Well, my mother will be happy to know that despite my best efforts, I did, in fact, learn a few things on my trip.
1. The arch is not as much of a gateway as it is a statue in the middle of a park.
No one told me that the arch crossed the Mississippi however, that is the way that I imagined it. I don't know why but since it is called the Gateway to the West, I figured you would go through it at some point to get somewhere else (and NOT to the other side of the park.) Although the arch was quite impressive and beautiful, I think it would have been more impressive if it went over the river or at least the road to welcome us to St. Louis.
2. When you can't find your suitcase, a laundry basket works just as well.
A wise woman (this is you Jess T. Berg) once stayed at my house and had packed in a laundry basket. So when I was trying to pack late Thursday night and could not for the life of me find anything to pack in, I thought "Hey! A laundry basket is better than a garbage bag." And not only was it better than a garbage bag, it may have worked out better than the suitcase. It would have been better if it had a handle and wheels, but I was able to fit all of my crap in it and fit well in the back of the Jeep. It was slightly embarrassing though to check in to the Millennium hotel while there was a reception going on carrying a laundry basket with a leopard print Snuggi on top.
3. Eemy Shinkle (one of "my girls" - that is her real name, I swear) cannot go down an escalator without a "free hand" to hold the rail.
So while I packed in a laundry basket, the other girls packed in duffel bags and suitcases. Between the four of us, there was a cooler, a laundry basket, a suitcase, 5 bags, 4 purses, tupperware filled with cupcakes and a lap top bag. That is a lot of stuff! We had to park in the garage across the street, ride an elevator down 8 floors, cross the parking garage, go down an escalator, cross the tunnel under the street and go back up 2 floors just to check in. We had everything situated and balanced precariously (the laundry basket was riding on top of the suitcase) and we weren't doing too bad until we came upon the escalator. I took the laundry basket and Eemy had the suitcase in one hand, the cooler in the other and her purse and possibly the cupcakes. She hesitated at the top because she didn't have a hand to put on the rail. There were several false starts when she decided to let go of the suitcase and then once she got on, she would grab the handle and go down. Except that didn't happen. What did happen was panic when she didn't grab the handle in time and started down the escalator. Not sure why but instead of just riding down and taking two trips, Eemy decided it was a better idea to run up the down escalator to get back to the top (while still holding all the stuff.) She reached the top but still couldn't grab the suitcase either from lack of coordination or laughing, I am not sure which. That time she gave up and just rode all the way down. And did I mention that during this time, the rest of us were laughing hysterically, another guest was watching and Jo was trying not too look because she hadn't gone to the bathroom in hours and almost had an accident.
4. Betty, the concierge, doesn't know crap about good food.
We needed a place to eat. We wanted fast and cheap. We asked Betty (although Jo renamed her Polly) how to get to the Metro but also, where to get something to eat. We were hungover and starving. She told us about the cafe at the hotel but since we didn't want to pay $12 for a chicken salad sandwich, we asked for her to direct us to the nearest fast food. She looked out the window, illustrated to us that we were on 4th St by holding up her four fingers and pointed us in the direction of Hardee's. She also stated, with authority in a strangely thick Jersey accent, that the "food is horrible." Well, Betty/Polly, you have obviously never eaten there after drinking an assortment of shots and dancing all night because I say it was "Delish!" Never has grease tasted so good.
5. All persons wearing boot cut jeans and Affliction T shirts are douche bags.
This is straight from the mouth of Lil Jay - our tattoo artist. While I am not positive that I completely agree (no one is immune from a few bad fashion decisions) I do notice that the majority of Affliction T wearing guys are not as awesome as they think they are.
6. If you are willing to loosen up your morals, you can ride the Metro for free.
S0, we buy a one way Metro ticket for $2.25. That is cool, it is cheaper and easier than driving, and we know we won't get lost. But here is the deal - no one took our ticket. No one looked at it or even noticed us at all. It sort of felt like a Metro free for all. So we did. We rode the entire weekend on that one ticket. We never lied about it and we were willing to buy another one, but since we didn't have to, we didn't. I know that technically it is stealing, but Jo was OK with it and she is VERY against stealing. Plus, it was like cash in our pocket and we are in an economic crisis, you know...
7. Not all cabbies know where they are going and they don't like their pictures taken.
Friday night we went to the Landing where all the tourists go. (We saw a lot of Affliction T shirts that night.) Saturday night we wanted to find "our people." We asked around and got the name of a couple of dive bars. We figured, "We'll tell the cabbie and he'll get us there." Well, the first cabbie took us to an Irish bar which wasn't too bad, but we didn't know any Irish jigs so we left there and tried to go somewhere else. Through a series of random events gone awry (thanks for the phrase, Jo!) we wind up in the middle of a residential street at 11 pm in a questionable neighborhood. Luckily, Eemy had the first cabbie's number (whose name was not Harris but did work for Harris Cab Co) so we called him. Eemy peed behind a tree and about 4 cops passed us without stopping to check on the four white girls chillin on the side walk in the middle of the night before he got there, but luckily he didn't take too long. We told him that we were ready to go back to the hotel and give up but on the way back he was nice enough to take us on a detour to show us the party street where "all the young people are drinking and dancing." That cost us at least five extra dollars but I can't be mad since he saved us from getting ass raped in the city. Oh yeah, and the cabbie on Friday night did NOT like it when I took his picture for my scrapbook. I guess the lighting wasn't good....
8. St Louis is filled with delicious food and free crap!
On Sunday, we were going to go to the Budweiser factory (I was willing to learn something about beer) but we couldn't figure out when the free shuttle was coming and since the free Metro didn't go there, we scrapped that idea. We decided instead to go to the "Taste of St. Louis." I gotta say, one of the best tasting cities I have ever been too. They had beer (always delicious), garlic Parmesan cheese fries (yum!), a gyro (Mel's first), crab Rangoon (never met one I didn't like), and best of all - pulled pork nachos!!! They were amazing. The best damn nachos I have ever had the pleasure of eating. Also, at the festival, if you give your email address out, you can get a free fleece blanket with a Cadillac logo and a bright green backpack from an internet provider. We also got a T shirt, a water bottle from the MO State Lottery, key chains and tiny lotto pencils. I LOVE FREE CRAP!!
9. Lose your parking ticket.
We parked on Friday night in the garage. We didn't move the car until Monday morning. The parking is $18 a day. That is a lot of burgers from Hardee's (yup, still thinking about it.) Anyway, we had budgeted to pay for it but when I got the car out Monday morning, my ticket wouldn't work. The cashier said it was expired and put it in as a lost ticket. We only had to pay $18 for the whole weekend!! It seemed like we had this city figured out! But when I told Trav he said that we could have gotten towed. I am really glad that didn't happen. It would have totally blown our budget. Oh well, live and learn.
And the most important thing I learned on my trip to St. Louis is -
10. No matter where you are or what you are doing, if you are surrounded by awesome people, you will have an awesome time.
I have the best girls in the world and I wouldn't trade them for anything. I love them. We always manage to have a good time and there is no one else I would rather hang out with. They are my best friends and if I am going to get ass raped and stabbed in downtown St. Louis, I want to do it with them.
Vick - we had fun and stuck together the whole time!!!
1. The arch is not as much of a gateway as it is a statue in the middle of a park.
No one told me that the arch crossed the Mississippi however, that is the way that I imagined it. I don't know why but since it is called the Gateway to the West, I figured you would go through it at some point to get somewhere else (and NOT to the other side of the park.) Although the arch was quite impressive and beautiful, I think it would have been more impressive if it went over the river or at least the road to welcome us to St. Louis.
2. When you can't find your suitcase, a laundry basket works just as well.
A wise woman (this is you Jess T. Berg) once stayed at my house and had packed in a laundry basket. So when I was trying to pack late Thursday night and could not for the life of me find anything to pack in, I thought "Hey! A laundry basket is better than a garbage bag." And not only was it better than a garbage bag, it may have worked out better than the suitcase. It would have been better if it had a handle and wheels, but I was able to fit all of my crap in it and fit well in the back of the Jeep. It was slightly embarrassing though to check in to the Millennium hotel while there was a reception going on carrying a laundry basket with a leopard print Snuggi on top.
3. Eemy Shinkle (one of "my girls" - that is her real name, I swear) cannot go down an escalator without a "free hand" to hold the rail.
So while I packed in a laundry basket, the other girls packed in duffel bags and suitcases. Between the four of us, there was a cooler, a laundry basket, a suitcase, 5 bags, 4 purses, tupperware filled with cupcakes and a lap top bag. That is a lot of stuff! We had to park in the garage across the street, ride an elevator down 8 floors, cross the parking garage, go down an escalator, cross the tunnel under the street and go back up 2 floors just to check in. We had everything situated and balanced precariously (the laundry basket was riding on top of the suitcase) and we weren't doing too bad until we came upon the escalator. I took the laundry basket and Eemy had the suitcase in one hand, the cooler in the other and her purse and possibly the cupcakes. She hesitated at the top because she didn't have a hand to put on the rail. There were several false starts when she decided to let go of the suitcase and then once she got on, she would grab the handle and go down. Except that didn't happen. What did happen was panic when she didn't grab the handle in time and started down the escalator. Not sure why but instead of just riding down and taking two trips, Eemy decided it was a better idea to run up the down escalator to get back to the top (while still holding all the stuff.) She reached the top but still couldn't grab the suitcase either from lack of coordination or laughing, I am not sure which. That time she gave up and just rode all the way down. And did I mention that during this time, the rest of us were laughing hysterically, another guest was watching and Jo was trying not too look because she hadn't gone to the bathroom in hours and almost had an accident.
4. Betty, the concierge, doesn't know crap about good food.
We needed a place to eat. We wanted fast and cheap. We asked Betty (although Jo renamed her Polly) how to get to the Metro but also, where to get something to eat. We were hungover and starving. She told us about the cafe at the hotel but since we didn't want to pay $12 for a chicken salad sandwich, we asked for her to direct us to the nearest fast food. She looked out the window, illustrated to us that we were on 4th St by holding up her four fingers and pointed us in the direction of Hardee's. She also stated, with authority in a strangely thick Jersey accent, that the "food is horrible." Well, Betty/Polly, you have obviously never eaten there after drinking an assortment of shots and dancing all night because I say it was "Delish!" Never has grease tasted so good.
5. All persons wearing boot cut jeans and Affliction T shirts are douche bags.
This is straight from the mouth of Lil Jay - our tattoo artist. While I am not positive that I completely agree (no one is immune from a few bad fashion decisions) I do notice that the majority of Affliction T wearing guys are not as awesome as they think they are.
6. If you are willing to loosen up your morals, you can ride the Metro for free.
S0, we buy a one way Metro ticket for $2.25. That is cool, it is cheaper and easier than driving, and we know we won't get lost. But here is the deal - no one took our ticket. No one looked at it or even noticed us at all. It sort of felt like a Metro free for all. So we did. We rode the entire weekend on that one ticket. We never lied about it and we were willing to buy another one, but since we didn't have to, we didn't. I know that technically it is stealing, but Jo was OK with it and she is VERY against stealing. Plus, it was like cash in our pocket and we are in an economic crisis, you know...
7. Not all cabbies know where they are going and they don't like their pictures taken.
Friday night we went to the Landing where all the tourists go. (We saw a lot of Affliction T shirts that night.) Saturday night we wanted to find "our people." We asked around and got the name of a couple of dive bars. We figured, "We'll tell the cabbie and he'll get us there." Well, the first cabbie took us to an Irish bar which wasn't too bad, but we didn't know any Irish jigs so we left there and tried to go somewhere else. Through a series of random events gone awry (thanks for the phrase, Jo!) we wind up in the middle of a residential street at 11 pm in a questionable neighborhood. Luckily, Eemy had the first cabbie's number (whose name was not Harris but did work for Harris Cab Co) so we called him. Eemy peed behind a tree and about 4 cops passed us without stopping to check on the four white girls chillin on the side walk in the middle of the night before he got there, but luckily he didn't take too long. We told him that we were ready to go back to the hotel and give up but on the way back he was nice enough to take us on a detour to show us the party street where "all the young people are drinking and dancing." That cost us at least five extra dollars but I can't be mad since he saved us from getting ass raped in the city. Oh yeah, and the cabbie on Friday night did NOT like it when I took his picture for my scrapbook. I guess the lighting wasn't good....
8. St Louis is filled with delicious food and free crap!
On Sunday, we were going to go to the Budweiser factory (I was willing to learn something about beer) but we couldn't figure out when the free shuttle was coming and since the free Metro didn't go there, we scrapped that idea. We decided instead to go to the "Taste of St. Louis." I gotta say, one of the best tasting cities I have ever been too. They had beer (always delicious), garlic Parmesan cheese fries (yum!), a gyro (Mel's first), crab Rangoon (never met one I didn't like), and best of all - pulled pork nachos!!! They were amazing. The best damn nachos I have ever had the pleasure of eating. Also, at the festival, if you give your email address out, you can get a free fleece blanket with a Cadillac logo and a bright green backpack from an internet provider. We also got a T shirt, a water bottle from the MO State Lottery, key chains and tiny lotto pencils. I LOVE FREE CRAP!!
9. Lose your parking ticket.
We parked on Friday night in the garage. We didn't move the car until Monday morning. The parking is $18 a day. That is a lot of burgers from Hardee's (yup, still thinking about it.) Anyway, we had budgeted to pay for it but when I got the car out Monday morning, my ticket wouldn't work. The cashier said it was expired and put it in as a lost ticket. We only had to pay $18 for the whole weekend!! It seemed like we had this city figured out! But when I told Trav he said that we could have gotten towed. I am really glad that didn't happen. It would have totally blown our budget. Oh well, live and learn.
And the most important thing I learned on my trip to St. Louis is -
10. No matter where you are or what you are doing, if you are surrounded by awesome people, you will have an awesome time.
I have the best girls in the world and I wouldn't trade them for anything. I love them. We always manage to have a good time and there is no one else I would rather hang out with. They are my best friends and if I am going to get ass raped and stabbed in downtown St. Louis, I want to do it with them.
Vick - we had fun and stuck together the whole time!!!
Monday, September 20, 2010
I'm Back!!
Between work, kids, a dog and kindergarten homework, I have had zero time to blog and less time to think. Since Hudson started school, I feel like I have been on autopilot. Get up, get ready, get kids ready, drop off kids, go to work, work, pick up kids, dinner, homework, bedtime. Then I wake up and do it all again. So here it is, I hope the anxiously awaited, latest blog from yours truly.
I used to have a soul. Now, I have a black, hollow cavity in my chest where that soul used to be. I am not sure of the exact date and time that my soul left me but I know the where and the how. It was sucked out of me by "the man" while I was diligently working long hard hours in my office which is actually a tiny cubicle surrounded by other poor, soulless shells of human beings in tiny cubicles. We sit, chained to our desks, only allowed to get up when nature calls (as long as it doesn't call too often.) We miss our children, our families and our sleep.
Why would we do this, ask? We ask ourselves the same question. We ask ourselves that question daily, some of us hourly. The answer is this: Gotta pay the bills. Of course, I am sure that I could probably find another job. Well, more than likely. Maybe. OK, maybe not. I do it because I have goals and aspirations. Not sure how my current job in the mortgage industry will help me become a rock star, but every one's gotta start somewhere. I think most of us are in the same boat - we got in the industry when the money was good, now it's not but we are stuck. The worst part is that I actually like my job. I just liked having a soul more.
Now I have to figure out how to get my soul back while keeping my job. I have never been a fan of Corporate America but the pay is decent and it has pretty good benefits. I am teaching my children that I am not afraid of hard work and that is how to make your way in the world. I am also teaching them that sometimes the means to an end is OK, which is OK with me.
Ideally, I wouldn't have to work for the man. I could spend my days teaching my children how to love and respect all people. I could create art all day. Someone would pay me good money and give me health insurance to write down all my random musings. I doubt this is ever going to happen, but I can hope can't I?
Oh wait, do I need a soul to have hope? Never mind then...
I used to have a soul. Now, I have a black, hollow cavity in my chest where that soul used to be. I am not sure of the exact date and time that my soul left me but I know the where and the how. It was sucked out of me by "the man" while I was diligently working long hard hours in my office which is actually a tiny cubicle surrounded by other poor, soulless shells of human beings in tiny cubicles. We sit, chained to our desks, only allowed to get up when nature calls (as long as it doesn't call too often.) We miss our children, our families and our sleep.
Why would we do this, ask? We ask ourselves the same question. We ask ourselves that question daily, some of us hourly. The answer is this: Gotta pay the bills. Of course, I am sure that I could probably find another job. Well, more than likely. Maybe. OK, maybe not. I do it because I have goals and aspirations. Not sure how my current job in the mortgage industry will help me become a rock star, but every one's gotta start somewhere. I think most of us are in the same boat - we got in the industry when the money was good, now it's not but we are stuck. The worst part is that I actually like my job. I just liked having a soul more.
Now I have to figure out how to get my soul back while keeping my job. I have never been a fan of Corporate America but the pay is decent and it has pretty good benefits. I am teaching my children that I am not afraid of hard work and that is how to make your way in the world. I am also teaching them that sometimes the means to an end is OK, which is OK with me.
Ideally, I wouldn't have to work for the man. I could spend my days teaching my children how to love and respect all people. I could create art all day. Someone would pay me good money and give me health insurance to write down all my random musings. I doubt this is ever going to happen, but I can hope can't I?
Oh wait, do I need a soul to have hope? Never mind then...
Sunday, August 29, 2010
I Am Officially 30
Today I woke up and realized I was 30. So I rolled over and went back to sleep.
I have an appointment for Botox and collagen injections later today. And I have to go buy some anti aging cream and 100% gray coverage hair color. OK, enough of that.
I never thought I would be the girl that freaks out about turning 30. But it turns out I was wrong because I have only been 30 for 11 hours and I already don't like it. I don't feel any different. I don't look any different and Hudson already told me that I didn't get any bigger (thank goodness!) But now I feel like I have to be an adult and I really don't want to be.
A couple of weeks ago I went out with some friends from high school to celebrate turning the big 3-0. We had a great time, had some drinks and Mickey D's and in the morning we discussed our Health Savings Plans. Really??? This is what we have become? Of course, that being said, we are all healthy and happy in our respective relationships, have beautiful children (or none at all, by choice), but still. Thirteen years ago, if you had told us this was going to happen, we would have laughed at you. We would have said "Never." But it happened and while I don't love the fact that I am interested in HSA's, I am not disappointed either.
My first 30 years have been filled with love, laughter, heartache and bliss. I have loved, lost and loved again. I have created my life's work (my children) and met and married my life partner (that's you, Trav.) While I am not proud of all of my decisions in life, I wouldn't be who I am today without those decisions. I have learned to love me and be proud of me in a way that I don't think is possible when you are 19, 21 or even 27.
I am going to embrace my 30's with the same zealousness that I embraced my 20's. I am sure that I will learn more about life and love so that one day people may call me wise (without the sarcasm.) I will survive this decade and in 10 years there will be another blog about how I can't believe I am 40 and all that crap. of course by then I may actually need the Botox and the collagen. I sure hope not.
I have an appointment for Botox and collagen injections later today. And I have to go buy some anti aging cream and 100% gray coverage hair color. OK, enough of that.
I never thought I would be the girl that freaks out about turning 30. But it turns out I was wrong because I have only been 30 for 11 hours and I already don't like it. I don't feel any different. I don't look any different and Hudson already told me that I didn't get any bigger (thank goodness!) But now I feel like I have to be an adult and I really don't want to be.
A couple of weeks ago I went out with some friends from high school to celebrate turning the big 3-0. We had a great time, had some drinks and Mickey D's and in the morning we discussed our Health Savings Plans. Really??? This is what we have become? Of course, that being said, we are all healthy and happy in our respective relationships, have beautiful children (or none at all, by choice), but still. Thirteen years ago, if you had told us this was going to happen, we would have laughed at you. We would have said "Never." But it happened and while I don't love the fact that I am interested in HSA's, I am not disappointed either.
My first 30 years have been filled with love, laughter, heartache and bliss. I have loved, lost and loved again. I have created my life's work (my children) and met and married my life partner (that's you, Trav.) While I am not proud of all of my decisions in life, I wouldn't be who I am today without those decisions. I have learned to love me and be proud of me in a way that I don't think is possible when you are 19, 21 or even 27.
I am going to embrace my 30's with the same zealousness that I embraced my 20's. I am sure that I will learn more about life and love so that one day people may call me wise (without the sarcasm.) I will survive this decade and in 10 years there will be another blog about how I can't believe I am 40 and all that crap. of course by then I may actually need the Botox and the collagen. I sure hope not.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
First Day of School
Yesterday my baby (who is obviously no longer a baby) started kindergarten. He was so excited. When I woke him up, he jumped out of bed and was ready in a flash. He is excited about everything! Buying lunch, packing lunch, recess, riding the bus... You name it, he wants to do it. His teacher seems very nice. She is young so she doesn't seem bitter or jaded (yet.) She was very excited about school starting and it was hard not to share her enthusiasm.
I have mixed emotions about Hudson starting school. On the "Pro" side are the following:
1. He loves to learn.
2. Helping him with homework and doing all the fun stuff that comes along with school.
3. He can make friends (outside of my friend's children and his cousins.)
The "Con" side:
1. Travis and I will no longer be the primary influences on his life and decisions.
2. I can no longer control what he learns, sees, hears, or says.
3. As one of my friends stated: "It is the first day of the rest of his life."
I am definitely not ready for him to move on with his life. As much as I am enjoying watching him grow up, I am not ready for it. Travis has assured me that Hudson is not moving on from us, but a part of me feels that way. I miss him already. Yesterday was the first time in his entire life that I couldn't talk to him whenever the feeling struck me. I know this is a part of life (especially his) but it is a little bittersweet for me. It is hard for me to put my feelings into words, a rare occasion for me so I will just leave it at this: I love my son more than life itself. He is growing into an awesome person. I could not be more proud of him if I tried. I am not ready to share him with the world, but to not share would be an amazingly selfish thing to do. I want him to go see the world and make it a better place, as he has done for my life. I don't want to be in a world without him. He will go on to do great things, even if it is only to share his smile with the strangers he will see everyday.
I love you Hudson Joe!
I have mixed emotions about Hudson starting school. On the "Pro" side are the following:
1. He loves to learn.
2. Helping him with homework and doing all the fun stuff that comes along with school.
3. He can make friends (outside of my friend's children and his cousins.)
The "Con" side:
1. Travis and I will no longer be the primary influences on his life and decisions.
2. I can no longer control what he learns, sees, hears, or says.
3. As one of my friends stated: "It is the first day of the rest of his life."
I am definitely not ready for him to move on with his life. As much as I am enjoying watching him grow up, I am not ready for it. Travis has assured me that Hudson is not moving on from us, but a part of me feels that way. I miss him already. Yesterday was the first time in his entire life that I couldn't talk to him whenever the feeling struck me. I know this is a part of life (especially his) but it is a little bittersweet for me. It is hard for me to put my feelings into words, a rare occasion for me so I will just leave it at this: I love my son more than life itself. He is growing into an awesome person. I could not be more proud of him if I tried. I am not ready to share him with the world, but to not share would be an amazingly selfish thing to do. I want him to go see the world and make it a better place, as he has done for my life. I don't want to be in a world without him. He will go on to do great things, even if it is only to share his smile with the strangers he will see everyday.
I love you Hudson Joe!
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Things I Learned at the Beach Waterpark
We took the kids to the Beach Waterpark for Ellen Family Fun Day. We all had a great time and it was very educational. Here is a list of all the things that I learned today. (A few things I already knew but they were reinforced.)
**Disclaimer: The following is to be taken lightly. This is a humorous and honest blog with no offense intended. Any resemblance to yourself, your friends or family is most likely coincidental.**
1. A white tank top over a very tiny bathing suit does not hide anything. We can see everything you didn't want us to.
2. If you tell your granddaughter that you will not buy her Dippin Dots (the "ice cream of the future") because it's $4 and that is ridiculous and then you proceed to buy a $3 beer in your $9.50 refillable mug, you will be judged.
3. Getting paw prints tattooed on your breasts does NOT make you look like Eve.
4. If your bottom is less than rockin, you should not wear a bikini with the words "Apple Bottoms" written on the backside in gold glitter. (This was especially disturbing as it was the same girl that mistook herself for Eve.) FYI - even if you have a hot body, you should think twice about wearing anything with gold glitter on your ass. It doesn't say classy like you think it does.
5. Although functional, under no circumstances are water shoes attractive.
6. There seems to be a rumor spreading like wildfire that neck tattoos are hot.
7. Wearing heels to the waterpark is not a good idea. And it makes you look like a fool.
8. If you sit in a chair for 4 hours instead of spending time with your wife, she will get mad and you will have to leave. (And then the Ellen's will take your primo spot in the sand.)
9. Just because it is August and the last 2 months have been unbearably hot, do not think that it won't be freezing cold (well, too cold to swim anyway) and rainy on the one day you decide to take the whole fam to the waterpark.
10. There is nothing more attractive to a mother than watching a father brave the ice cold water to play with his children for 6 hours and enjoy every minute of it. (This is a direct reference to my wonderful husband.)
Who knew one could learn so much just by sitting, relaxing, and people watching? I feel very wise today. Thank you, Beach Waterpark, Mason, OH!
**Disclaimer: The following is to be taken lightly. This is a humorous and honest blog with no offense intended. Any resemblance to yourself, your friends or family is most likely coincidental.**
1. A white tank top over a very tiny bathing suit does not hide anything. We can see everything you didn't want us to.
2. If you tell your granddaughter that you will not buy her Dippin Dots (the "ice cream of the future") because it's $4 and that is ridiculous and then you proceed to buy a $3 beer in your $9.50 refillable mug, you will be judged.
3. Getting paw prints tattooed on your breasts does NOT make you look like Eve.
4. If your bottom is less than rockin, you should not wear a bikini with the words "Apple Bottoms" written on the backside in gold glitter. (This was especially disturbing as it was the same girl that mistook herself for Eve.) FYI - even if you have a hot body, you should think twice about wearing anything with gold glitter on your ass. It doesn't say classy like you think it does.
5. Although functional, under no circumstances are water shoes attractive.
6. There seems to be a rumor spreading like wildfire that neck tattoos are hot.
7. Wearing heels to the waterpark is not a good idea. And it makes you look like a fool.
8. If you sit in a chair for 4 hours instead of spending time with your wife, she will get mad and you will have to leave. (And then the Ellen's will take your primo spot in the sand.)
9. Just because it is August and the last 2 months have been unbearably hot, do not think that it won't be freezing cold (well, too cold to swim anyway) and rainy on the one day you decide to take the whole fam to the waterpark.
10. There is nothing more attractive to a mother than watching a father brave the ice cold water to play with his children for 6 hours and enjoy every minute of it. (This is a direct reference to my wonderful husband.)
Who knew one could learn so much just by sitting, relaxing, and people watching? I feel very wise today. Thank you, Beach Waterpark, Mason, OH!
Monday, July 19, 2010
7/19/10
Today is my anniversary. My seven year anniversary to be exact. I am sitting at Dewey's Pizza waiting for Travis (I am early and he is late.) We have gone to Dewey's for 5 of our 7 anniversaries. It is "our place." As I patiently await the arrival of my man, I reflect on the last 7 years (8 if you count the year we dated) of my life - I mean, what else have I got to do?
Throughout our lives together, we have had the following - 1 house, 5 cars, 2 dogs, 3 pregnancies, 2 children, 1 room mate, 5 TV's, 3 computers, 9 DVD players (they keep breaking), 11 jobs and multitudes of fights. There have been bouts of unemployment (both of us but thankfully not at the same time), we have both been back to school (he is the only one that finished,) have been broke and at other times went through money like water (this, no doubt, had a direct effect on being broke the other times.) Right now, we are in a really good place. We don't get to see each other enough and I now have to use a day planner to keep up with every one's schedule, but we are really happy together.
I met Travis when I was only 21, was engaged 3 months later on my 22nd birthday and got married a month before I turned 23. It was a whirlwind romance and looking back, I realize how young I was. I knew that I loved him and that he loved me but I could not back then fathom the strength, patience and understanding that it takes to be married. I have grown up a lot since I got married and I think one of the things that make Trav and I work is that he has allowed (and I don't use that word in the "given permission" sense but the encouraged sense) me to find out who I am. He has never been jealous of my need for time to myself (something that I still struggle with) and has been supportive through out my career changes and art projects and numerous classes that take time and money so that I can learn how to be me.
There have been times when I wasn't sure if we were going to make it and a few when we almost gave up. I am sure there will be more times like that in the future. Travis and I have different political, religious, parental and environmental views. We have virtually nothing in common except one thing. We are committed to each other and our relationship. We are a team and we always will be.
When we first fell in love, we used to say "I love you, forever and always, even though and even if." That means that I love him "even though" he is a republican and "even if" he goes fishing for 10 days in Canada with no cell reception when we have a 4 month old baby and I almost have a nervous breakdown because I (irrationally) think he is abandoning me. It also means that he loves me "even though" I am a horrible pack rat that keeps every scrap of paper that the children ever scribbled on and "even if" I am physically incapable of walking out of Target without buying 10 additional items that I don't need and spending less than $100. We don't say that phrase much anymore. It has gotten lost in the chaos that is our lives, but we should. No matter what happens in the future (never say never and always expect the unexpected) I will always love Travis because I wouldn't be who I am today without him and more importantly, I wouldn't want to.
Throughout our lives together, we have had the following - 1 house, 5 cars, 2 dogs, 3 pregnancies, 2 children, 1 room mate, 5 TV's, 3 computers, 9 DVD players (they keep breaking), 11 jobs and multitudes of fights. There have been bouts of unemployment (both of us but thankfully not at the same time), we have both been back to school (he is the only one that finished,) have been broke and at other times went through money like water (this, no doubt, had a direct effect on being broke the other times.) Right now, we are in a really good place. We don't get to see each other enough and I now have to use a day planner to keep up with every one's schedule, but we are really happy together.
I met Travis when I was only 21, was engaged 3 months later on my 22nd birthday and got married a month before I turned 23. It was a whirlwind romance and looking back, I realize how young I was. I knew that I loved him and that he loved me but I could not back then fathom the strength, patience and understanding that it takes to be married. I have grown up a lot since I got married and I think one of the things that make Trav and I work is that he has allowed (and I don't use that word in the "given permission" sense but the encouraged sense) me to find out who I am. He has never been jealous of my need for time to myself (something that I still struggle with) and has been supportive through out my career changes and art projects and numerous classes that take time and money so that I can learn how to be me.
There have been times when I wasn't sure if we were going to make it and a few when we almost gave up. I am sure there will be more times like that in the future. Travis and I have different political, religious, parental and environmental views. We have virtually nothing in common except one thing. We are committed to each other and our relationship. We are a team and we always will be.
When we first fell in love, we used to say "I love you, forever and always, even though and even if." That means that I love him "even though" he is a republican and "even if" he goes fishing for 10 days in Canada with no cell reception when we have a 4 month old baby and I almost have a nervous breakdown because I (irrationally) think he is abandoning me. It also means that he loves me "even though" I am a horrible pack rat that keeps every scrap of paper that the children ever scribbled on and "even if" I am physically incapable of walking out of Target without buying 10 additional items that I don't need and spending less than $100. We don't say that phrase much anymore. It has gotten lost in the chaos that is our lives, but we should. No matter what happens in the future (never say never and always expect the unexpected) I will always love Travis because I wouldn't be who I am today without him and more importantly, I wouldn't want to.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Seriously???
I am a smart, successful and strikingly beautiful woman. (OK, that last one is definitely an exaggeration, but the first two are true.) I am able to follow directions, read a map and while I would never be described as "domestic" I have prepared a few tasty dishes in my life time. That being said, I am physically incapable of making an omelet. I am not talking about making the world's best omelet. I am talking about an edible ham and cheese omelet that other people would actually recognize as an omelet.
Hudson's very favorite food on the entire planet is a ham and cheese omelet. He doesn't have a large repertoire of food, but there is a special place in his little heart for ham and cheese in omelet form. He eats them almost every day, sometimes several times a day. Travis makes them for him, Mammaw makes them for him, Vick makes them for him and he orders them at restaurants. I am the only one unable to provide for my little omelet lover. I understand the concept, it is the execution that gets me every time. I just cannot flip those damned eggs over in one piece. So when I make breakfast, my poor little boy has to eat an "inside out omelet." (This is what we call the mess of scrambled eggs with chunks of ham and cheese in it that I put on his plate because every time I try to flip it all hell breaks loose and I am forced to start scrambling.) I know he still likes it and it is basically the same thing, but I just can't understand how I can let some little $.99/dozen eggs get the best of me.
I feel this may be held against me later in life, when Hudson is in therapy. The therapist will say "Tell me about your mother." Hudson will reply, "She was a good mom, or at least she tried. She just couldn't give me the only thing that I wanted, a ham and cheese omelet. She gave me scrambled eggs instead." Then there will be tears and bills for thousands of dollars and Hudson will never be able to have a successful relationship with someone that can't make an omelet. OK, that may be a little over the top, but it could happen.
I will conquer an omelet. I cannot let my son down. His future depends on it. Do you think there is an omelet making class I can take? Preferably online because I have a very hectic schedule.
Hudson's very favorite food on the entire planet is a ham and cheese omelet. He doesn't have a large repertoire of food, but there is a special place in his little heart for ham and cheese in omelet form. He eats them almost every day, sometimes several times a day. Travis makes them for him, Mammaw makes them for him, Vick makes them for him and he orders them at restaurants. I am the only one unable to provide for my little omelet lover. I understand the concept, it is the execution that gets me every time. I just cannot flip those damned eggs over in one piece. So when I make breakfast, my poor little boy has to eat an "inside out omelet." (This is what we call the mess of scrambled eggs with chunks of ham and cheese in it that I put on his plate because every time I try to flip it all hell breaks loose and I am forced to start scrambling.) I know he still likes it and it is basically the same thing, but I just can't understand how I can let some little $.99/dozen eggs get the best of me.
I feel this may be held against me later in life, when Hudson is in therapy. The therapist will say "Tell me about your mother." Hudson will reply, "She was a good mom, or at least she tried. She just couldn't give me the only thing that I wanted, a ham and cheese omelet. She gave me scrambled eggs instead." Then there will be tears and bills for thousands of dollars and Hudson will never be able to have a successful relationship with someone that can't make an omelet. OK, that may be a little over the top, but it could happen.
I will conquer an omelet. I cannot let my son down. His future depends on it. Do you think there is an omelet making class I can take? Preferably online because I have a very hectic schedule.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
This Motherhood Thing is Hard
When our children are young, we teach them to listen to their parents, grandparents, babysitters, teachers, etc. We tell them to follow directions and stay inside the lines. When our children grow up, we want them to question authority.
If our children are mean or bully others, we tell them that it's not OK because it isn't nice and it can hurt others' feelings. But when our children are the ones being picked on, we tell them that words can't hurt them.
When a child is young, we call them "independent" and bull headed as if it is a bad thing. When they grow up, we expect them to never back down from a fight or take no for an answer and relish in their persistence.
If we don't keep score, then we are raising "wimps" that have no sense of healthy competition yet if we do, we are clearly defining the roles of winners and losers, creating self involved, egotistical maniacs and self loathing nerds.
With these contradictions (and this is the tip of the iceberg), how are we supposed to know how to raise our kids? What is the correct answer to all of their tough questions? In the last month Hudson has asked me why people that aren't white live in America, if he will go to Hell for breaking a pinkie promise, and "why are all these Chinese people in here" (we were in a nail salon.) I did my best to explain the answers to these ridiculously mature (and ill informed) questions to my 5 year old. I have no idea if I did a good job or not.
Of course, I want my children to share my views of the world (I obviously believe I am correct) but I don't want them to have my views because I told them it was true. I want more than anything for them to think for themselves and draw their own conclusions of the world. I am painfully aware that when Hudson starts kindergarten, the value of my opinion is going to plummet and the opinions of his friends, his friends parents, his teachers, and even his favorite bands will be soaring. The only way I can do this is to arm them with knowledge, listen to them with acceptance and live my life filled with love.
I refuse to lie to my children, even (or most importantly) when it is regarding an uncomfortable topic. I have already explained what tampons are, how babies come out (both ways), and about adoption. My parents never lied to me and instilled in me the importance of telling the truth. I can't even lie to telemarketers. My parents censored my world with a very liberal hand. I wasn't allowed to watch Dirty Dancing even though I knew what an abortion was in kindergarten) but my father forced us to watch Tommy (FYI, Rick - this is not an appropriate movie for a 6 year old, no matter how important to their musical education.) I read Kurt Vonnegut in the eighth grade - I didn't understand most of it but I could definitely tell that dude was crazy. I may put an age requirement on Kurt Vonnegut and John Irving. (Also, no matter how it is marketed, Labyrinth is not a kids movie. No one under the age of 17 should be exposed to David Bowie is gold spandex.)
This past winter, as well as celebrating Christmas, we read books on Hanukkah and Kwanzaa. When answering questions about God, I am careful to begin with "Some people believe..." When asked about the future, I try to keep it as generic as possible so not to impose any of my expectations on my children. That being said, this is so much harder than I thought it would be.
I remember very vividly taking Paige and Hudson to the ball field to watch Travis play. It was August. It was hot, so very hot. Paige was 3 months old and Hudson had turned 2 in June. I had Paige in the sling sleeping and Hudson was playing in the dirt. We were having a good time until Hudson said he had to go potty. Potty training was something that we were toying with, but not necessarily actively pursuing. (I thought Hudson was too young to start worrying about it - I was wrong.) So there I was, trying to keep Paige from waking up - if she was awake, she was screaming, and taking off Hudson's diaper and trying to get him to hover over the potty in a disgustingly dirty bathroom, telling him "Don't touch anything!" while covered in sweat and dirt. I remember thinking "I can't do this." That was a piece of cake to what I have on my hands now. Sure, that was physically demanding, but what am I supposed to say when my son tells me that only white people are from America? How do I teach them to know the difference between the truth and a lie? How do I keep from screwing my kids up?
This world is full of bad news. It is full of double standards and contradictions. I need to figure out how to filter (not censor) the bad while exposing all of the good. I would rather my children be wise than smart. I would rather them be loving and accepting than "important." I want them to be able to respect other's opinions without buying into them and I want them to believe in themselves and humanity always.
If our children are mean or bully others, we tell them that it's not OK because it isn't nice and it can hurt others' feelings. But when our children are the ones being picked on, we tell them that words can't hurt them.
When a child is young, we call them "independent" and bull headed as if it is a bad thing. When they grow up, we expect them to never back down from a fight or take no for an answer and relish in their persistence.
If we don't keep score, then we are raising "wimps" that have no sense of healthy competition yet if we do, we are clearly defining the roles of winners and losers, creating self involved, egotistical maniacs and self loathing nerds.
With these contradictions (and this is the tip of the iceberg), how are we supposed to know how to raise our kids? What is the correct answer to all of their tough questions? In the last month Hudson has asked me why people that aren't white live in America, if he will go to Hell for breaking a pinkie promise, and "why are all these Chinese people in here" (we were in a nail salon.) I did my best to explain the answers to these ridiculously mature (and ill informed) questions to my 5 year old. I have no idea if I did a good job or not.
Of course, I want my children to share my views of the world (I obviously believe I am correct) but I don't want them to have my views because I told them it was true. I want more than anything for them to think for themselves and draw their own conclusions of the world. I am painfully aware that when Hudson starts kindergarten, the value of my opinion is going to plummet and the opinions of his friends, his friends parents, his teachers, and even his favorite bands will be soaring. The only way I can do this is to arm them with knowledge, listen to them with acceptance and live my life filled with love.
I refuse to lie to my children, even (or most importantly) when it is regarding an uncomfortable topic. I have already explained what tampons are, how babies come out (both ways), and about adoption. My parents never lied to me and instilled in me the importance of telling the truth. I can't even lie to telemarketers. My parents censored my world with a very liberal hand. I wasn't allowed to watch Dirty Dancing even though I knew what an abortion was in kindergarten) but my father forced us to watch Tommy (FYI, Rick - this is not an appropriate movie for a 6 year old, no matter how important to their musical education.) I read Kurt Vonnegut in the eighth grade - I didn't understand most of it but I could definitely tell that dude was crazy. I may put an age requirement on Kurt Vonnegut and John Irving. (Also, no matter how it is marketed, Labyrinth is not a kids movie. No one under the age of 17 should be exposed to David Bowie is gold spandex.)
This past winter, as well as celebrating Christmas, we read books on Hanukkah and Kwanzaa. When answering questions about God, I am careful to begin with "Some people believe..." When asked about the future, I try to keep it as generic as possible so not to impose any of my expectations on my children. That being said, this is so much harder than I thought it would be.
I remember very vividly taking Paige and Hudson to the ball field to watch Travis play. It was August. It was hot, so very hot. Paige was 3 months old and Hudson had turned 2 in June. I had Paige in the sling sleeping and Hudson was playing in the dirt. We were having a good time until Hudson said he had to go potty. Potty training was something that we were toying with, but not necessarily actively pursuing. (I thought Hudson was too young to start worrying about it - I was wrong.) So there I was, trying to keep Paige from waking up - if she was awake, she was screaming, and taking off Hudson's diaper and trying to get him to hover over the potty in a disgustingly dirty bathroom, telling him "Don't touch anything!" while covered in sweat and dirt. I remember thinking "I can't do this." That was a piece of cake to what I have on my hands now. Sure, that was physically demanding, but what am I supposed to say when my son tells me that only white people are from America? How do I teach them to know the difference between the truth and a lie? How do I keep from screwing my kids up?
This world is full of bad news. It is full of double standards and contradictions. I need to figure out how to filter (not censor) the bad while exposing all of the good. I would rather my children be wise than smart. I would rather them be loving and accepting than "important." I want them to be able to respect other's opinions without buying into them and I want them to believe in themselves and humanity always.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
My Hero
My husband is my hero. I have never been more in awe of him than I was on Friday and every time I think about that day.
We were on vacation. This is a time of relaxation and us being off the grid. I hadn't thought about work in a week. Work was the furthest thing from my mind. Work should have been the furthest thing from Travis' mind but I guess when you are a Firefighter/EMT you are never truly off duty.
We were in the hotel pool, playing with our kids, having a beer when I hear a woman start screaming. I have to be honest, when I first heard the screaming, I thought "WTF? Why the hell is that woman screaming?" It turns out that a little boy was drowning. I don't know if the screaming woman was the little boy's mom or a stranger, but if she hadn't started screaming this story may not have such a happy ending. Apparently, the little boy had been playing with the diving sticks, or that is what I heard, when he started to drown. No one knows how long he was under but someone pulled him out and Travis preformed CPR. He was doing compressions and another pool goer who happened to be a nurse was doing mouth to mouth. All I could see was a small pair of feet and legs sticking out of the crowd.
I couldn't watch and I didn't want to. All around me people were crying. A lot of the people stood around and watched the drama. I grabbed the kids and walked to the beach. Hudson, who is very observant, kept asking me what was going on. I just told him that there was an emergency and Daddy had to help. I tried to keep them distracted but it was really hard, especially since I could barely stand up. When I heard the ambulance sirens, my knees almost buckled. I couldn't think straight and I was shaking. I wouldn't let go of Hudson and Paige's hands and they couldn't understand why. I could tell that word of the accident was spreading by watching the people on the beach. They were standing in clusters talking and kept looking back at our hotel. It seemed like an eternity before Travis came to find me and the kids.
He finally found us and it seemed like a full 5 minutes before he told me the boy was OK. I am sure it was only like 5 seconds but he couldn't tell me fast enough. It took six rounds of CPR but Travis finally got his pulse back. He was breathing on his own but was still unresponsive when the ambulance took him to the hospital. As soon as Trav told me he had a pulse, I started crying. I couldn't stand the thought of someone almost losing a child. The hotel confirmed that he was released the next day and he was perfectly fine. I don't know that boy or his parents but I am so glad that my husband saved their lives - all of theirs. I couldn't have done that. He was so calm and knew exactly what to do. That is his job, I get that, but I have never seen him do that before. My husband saved some one's life. That little boy has a future because of Travis. His parents will always be grateful to my husband. He is a hero to many, not just me.
We told the kids what happened, but they don't understand. This is something that they won't be able to understand until they have children of their own and I hope they never fully understand. My children are an extension of my being. I live inside them and they live inside me. I imagine all parents feel that way. My husband preserved that for complete strangers. He is amazing. He is and always will be my hero.
We were on vacation. This is a time of relaxation and us being off the grid. I hadn't thought about work in a week. Work was the furthest thing from my mind. Work should have been the furthest thing from Travis' mind but I guess when you are a Firefighter/EMT you are never truly off duty.
We were in the hotel pool, playing with our kids, having a beer when I hear a woman start screaming. I have to be honest, when I first heard the screaming, I thought "WTF? Why the hell is that woman screaming?" It turns out that a little boy was drowning. I don't know if the screaming woman was the little boy's mom or a stranger, but if she hadn't started screaming this story may not have such a happy ending. Apparently, the little boy had been playing with the diving sticks, or that is what I heard, when he started to drown. No one knows how long he was under but someone pulled him out and Travis preformed CPR. He was doing compressions and another pool goer who happened to be a nurse was doing mouth to mouth. All I could see was a small pair of feet and legs sticking out of the crowd.
I couldn't watch and I didn't want to. All around me people were crying. A lot of the people stood around and watched the drama. I grabbed the kids and walked to the beach. Hudson, who is very observant, kept asking me what was going on. I just told him that there was an emergency and Daddy had to help. I tried to keep them distracted but it was really hard, especially since I could barely stand up. When I heard the ambulance sirens, my knees almost buckled. I couldn't think straight and I was shaking. I wouldn't let go of Hudson and Paige's hands and they couldn't understand why. I could tell that word of the accident was spreading by watching the people on the beach. They were standing in clusters talking and kept looking back at our hotel. It seemed like an eternity before Travis came to find me and the kids.
He finally found us and it seemed like a full 5 minutes before he told me the boy was OK. I am sure it was only like 5 seconds but he couldn't tell me fast enough. It took six rounds of CPR but Travis finally got his pulse back. He was breathing on his own but was still unresponsive when the ambulance took him to the hospital. As soon as Trav told me he had a pulse, I started crying. I couldn't stand the thought of someone almost losing a child. The hotel confirmed that he was released the next day and he was perfectly fine. I don't know that boy or his parents but I am so glad that my husband saved their lives - all of theirs. I couldn't have done that. He was so calm and knew exactly what to do. That is his job, I get that, but I have never seen him do that before. My husband saved some one's life. That little boy has a future because of Travis. His parents will always be grateful to my husband. He is a hero to many, not just me.
We told the kids what happened, but they don't understand. This is something that they won't be able to understand until they have children of their own and I hope they never fully understand. My children are an extension of my being. I live inside them and they live inside me. I imagine all parents feel that way. My husband preserved that for complete strangers. He is amazing. He is and always will be my hero.
Best Vacation Ever!
We just got back from the best vacation ever! The four of us went down to Myrtle Beach, SC for 4 days of hot, sunny, sandy bliss. We left Wednesday night with all intentions of driving all night, which of course did not pan out as Travis was sleepy from being a hero all day (sans sarcasm) and I was tired from packing for 4 people, shuttling children and puppies all day being a working mom that was going on vacation (there is a lot to do to get ready for vacation!)
Anyway, I was very proud of my packing job. The last time I attempted to pack for Travis, I failed to pack him any shirts. I don't mean that I didn't pack him any clean shirts or dress shirts or T shirts. I mean that I didn't pack him anything to cover the upper half of his body. He was not a happy camper. But this time I packed for all of us and I did a pretty darn good job. I managed to pack everything that everyone needed but without packing too much which is my usual modus operandi. Oh wait, I did forget the adult toothpaste but I brought the kid toothpaste which, in case you were wondering, is absolutely disgusting. I also loaded the car completely by myself, hooked up the new DVD player (money very well spent), got waxed and pedicured (Paige also got a pedicure but passed on the waxing), took Hudson to get a haircut and went to my nephew's baseball game (but got rained out.) I was pooped. Travis started driving at 11:15 on Wednesday night and I woke up at 5:50 Thursday morning at a rest stop 50 miles outside of Knoxville, TN. Since Travis was exhausted (he is a hero for a living, you know) I decided to get the show on the road. I ran into the rest stop to pee without a bra on, "You're welcome Mr. All Night Rest Stop Security Guard" and downed a 5 hour energy (disgusting but works) and started hauling some vacation ass.
It should be noted that in the entire 8 years that Travis and I have been together, I have only driven a car in which he has been a passenger about 10 times. (This may be a slight exaggeration but seriously, he never lets me drive.) I tried to text (it was just 1 message, Mom!) and that wasn't allowed. When I was searching in my purse for my Chapstick, he grabbed the wheel and I don't think he even really wanted me to scan the radio stations. That being said, it wasn't long before I gave up the pilot's seat and opted to be the navigator instead. The kids were awesome on the trip (way better than I had imagined) and it was all totally worth it when the kids saw the ocean for the very first time.
The first thing we did after checking in was walk to the ocean. Paige immediately started rolling around in the sand looking suspiciously like a SI swimsuit model vying for the cover and Hudson was yelling "Come on, Ocean! You can't take me!" I loved watching them experience the sand - we built a sand castle; Travis is quite the sand castle engineer. We found a crab. We jumped in the waves. After we dragged them out of the water, we went to eat at Margaritaville - delicious! There was a funk band that Hudson loved and he did a little showcase of his dance moves. We also went to the old time amusement park and Hudson was quite the dare devil. He rode the Viking Ship and the Caterpillar (which made Mommy very nauseous.) Paige rode the mini Viking Ship and we all rode the carousel (which also made Mommy nauseous. I think I am getting old.)
The next day we did more beach and pool and then went out to dinner with Matt, Jess and Baby Gus. We did some souvenir shopping - Paige got a dress, shocker! and Hudson wanted a Hermit Crab cage (no crab, thank goodness, just the cage for his shells.) On Saturday we just hung out at the pool that day, no beach for us, but we did go to Pirate Mini Golf which Hudson loved and Paige didn't care for too much even though she got a hole in one. Travis got 6 hole in ones and I think he is contemplating a career change. We then ate pizza and played Boccie Ball in the yard. Krista joined us that day and the kids fell in love her. Hudson was doing great swimming with his water wings and Paige (Little Miss Sassy Pants) says she already knows how to swim but she loves jumping off the side of the pool into our arms. Paige also had a few new imaginary friends show up on vacation - Kenna, Wuska (I think she is Russian) and Cheryl. Hudson just hung out with Chain (he is a super hero.) I love those kids.
On the last full day of vacation we slept in and then ate breakfast with the Berg's and Krista. Then we headed to the beach but that was short lived because it was too windy. We went back to the pools - we got lazy in the Lazy River and Paige did lots of "swimming" in "her pool" (the mini Lazy River.) Jess, Krista and I went to get massages (awesome!) while the boys and Paige rested and then we hit the pool again. After that, we went to Joe's Crab Shack for dinner where they sang Happy Birthday to the kids and they got to paint crab shaped Rice Krispie Treats with strawberry, chocolate and caramel sauce - they loved it. It was the perfect ending to a perfect vacation.
I am sorry that our first official Ellen (Bergman and Cornehl included) family vacation is over but it couldn't have been more perfect. The children were wonderful and we had so much fun. Even the car ride home wasn't miserable. We went to Sonny's BBQ (a must whenever we go south of Corbin, KY) and it was delicious as always. Paige ate everything. The kids were not ready to come home and nor was I. It was the first vacation that no part of me was ready for it to be over because this was the first time that I had all the people I love on vacation with me. I can't wait to do it again next year!!!
Anyway, I was very proud of my packing job. The last time I attempted to pack for Travis, I failed to pack him any shirts. I don't mean that I didn't pack him any clean shirts or dress shirts or T shirts. I mean that I didn't pack him anything to cover the upper half of his body. He was not a happy camper. But this time I packed for all of us and I did a pretty darn good job. I managed to pack everything that everyone needed but without packing too much which is my usual modus operandi. Oh wait, I did forget the adult toothpaste but I brought the kid toothpaste which, in case you were wondering, is absolutely disgusting. I also loaded the car completely by myself, hooked up the new DVD player (money very well spent), got waxed and pedicured (Paige also got a pedicure but passed on the waxing), took Hudson to get a haircut and went to my nephew's baseball game (but got rained out.) I was pooped. Travis started driving at 11:15 on Wednesday night and I woke up at 5:50 Thursday morning at a rest stop 50 miles outside of Knoxville, TN. Since Travis was exhausted (he is a hero for a living, you know) I decided to get the show on the road. I ran into the rest stop to pee without a bra on, "You're welcome Mr. All Night Rest Stop Security Guard" and downed a 5 hour energy (disgusting but works) and started hauling some vacation ass.
It should be noted that in the entire 8 years that Travis and I have been together, I have only driven a car in which he has been a passenger about 10 times. (This may be a slight exaggeration but seriously, he never lets me drive.) I tried to text (it was just 1 message, Mom!) and that wasn't allowed. When I was searching in my purse for my Chapstick, he grabbed the wheel and I don't think he even really wanted me to scan the radio stations. That being said, it wasn't long before I gave up the pilot's seat and opted to be the navigator instead. The kids were awesome on the trip (way better than I had imagined) and it was all totally worth it when the kids saw the ocean for the very first time.
The first thing we did after checking in was walk to the ocean. Paige immediately started rolling around in the sand looking suspiciously like a SI swimsuit model vying for the cover and Hudson was yelling "Come on, Ocean! You can't take me!" I loved watching them experience the sand - we built a sand castle; Travis is quite the sand castle engineer. We found a crab. We jumped in the waves. After we dragged them out of the water, we went to eat at Margaritaville - delicious! There was a funk band that Hudson loved and he did a little showcase of his dance moves. We also went to the old time amusement park and Hudson was quite the dare devil. He rode the Viking Ship and the Caterpillar (which made Mommy very nauseous.) Paige rode the mini Viking Ship and we all rode the carousel (which also made Mommy nauseous. I think I am getting old.)
The next day we did more beach and pool and then went out to dinner with Matt, Jess and Baby Gus. We did some souvenir shopping - Paige got a dress, shocker! and Hudson wanted a Hermit Crab cage (no crab, thank goodness, just the cage for his shells.) On Saturday we just hung out at the pool that day, no beach for us, but we did go to Pirate Mini Golf which Hudson loved and Paige didn't care for too much even though she got a hole in one. Travis got 6 hole in ones and I think he is contemplating a career change. We then ate pizza and played Boccie Ball in the yard. Krista joined us that day and the kids fell in love her. Hudson was doing great swimming with his water wings and Paige (Little Miss Sassy Pants) says she already knows how to swim but she loves jumping off the side of the pool into our arms. Paige also had a few new imaginary friends show up on vacation - Kenna, Wuska (I think she is Russian) and Cheryl. Hudson just hung out with Chain (he is a super hero.) I love those kids.
On the last full day of vacation we slept in and then ate breakfast with the Berg's and Krista. Then we headed to the beach but that was short lived because it was too windy. We went back to the pools - we got lazy in the Lazy River and Paige did lots of "swimming" in "her pool" (the mini Lazy River.) Jess, Krista and I went to get massages (awesome!) while the boys and Paige rested and then we hit the pool again. After that, we went to Joe's Crab Shack for dinner where they sang Happy Birthday to the kids and they got to paint crab shaped Rice Krispie Treats with strawberry, chocolate and caramel sauce - they loved it. It was the perfect ending to a perfect vacation.
I am sorry that our first official Ellen (Bergman and Cornehl included) family vacation is over but it couldn't have been more perfect. The children were wonderful and we had so much fun. Even the car ride home wasn't miserable. We went to Sonny's BBQ (a must whenever we go south of Corbin, KY) and it was delicious as always. Paige ate everything. The kids were not ready to come home and nor was I. It was the first vacation that no part of me was ready for it to be over because this was the first time that I had all the people I love on vacation with me. I can't wait to do it again next year!!!
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
My Baby Boy
My baby boy turned 5 today. And yes, I cried. I cried because he is growing up and I am not ready for it. Sometimes when I look at him, I can't believe how fast the last 5 years have gone by. He told me today that no matter what, he would always be my baby. I hope that is true.
Hudson is the sweetest child I have ever known. He loves to love. When he tells me I am beautiful (which is pretty often,) I feel like I have just won the Miss America contest. He is always ready to cuddle and always appreciative of gifts, no matter how big or small. I have never seen a kid get so excited about a plastic stool so he could reach the sink. When he's tired he likes to rub my ponytail and I love it. He is the reason I won't cut my hair.
Hudson loves to sing and listen to music. (He gets that from me.) Right now, his favorite is Jet - "Are You Gonna Be My Girl" but his recent playlist includes the Black Eyed Peas and The White Stripes. And of course, he loves Paul McCartney's Band on the Run. He knows the entire album. He plays a mean "air drum," just like his momma and don't tell anyone but he likes to dance with his sister. Hudson also loves to do crafts like me and has a new love of bedazzling. I love that he takes after me in some ways because other than these things (and a flair for the dramatics - we actually had to have a bedside vigil tonight when he scraped his leg; he is hoping he will be able to make a swift recovery so he can come on vacation with us tomorrow but as he stated "I can't control it!") he is all Travis.
He is a boy's boy. He loves sports and wants to play superhero (or as he calls it "action") all the time. He loves to fish and Travis is counting the days until he is old enough to take on the annual Alabama trip for the crappie run. He likes fart and poop jokes and when we wrestle he gives me a "butt face" which is exactly what it sounds like - he sits on my face until I tap out. It generally doesn't take me long.
Hudson is inquisitive (see my prior blog called Questions and Answers) and loves to know everything. He has asked me after I gotten home from work on more than one occasion, "So Mom, how much money did you make today?" He wants to know how everything is made and why your pinkie is called a pinkie and why I don't know a lot about space. He loves to do math and I am not positive but I am pretty sure he is starting learn how to read (I am not sure because neither Travis or I have taught him but he keeps "reading" things. He might be just guessing what the words are but if he is then he is a pretty good guesser.) He is always talking about what kind of school he should go to - fire school, chef school - he can't decide.
Right now, he thinks that I am pretty much the coolest thing ever. He loves to hang out with me and hates to stay anywhere overnight besides home. I fear that those days are quickly coming to a close. Hudson will soon be ditching me for sleepovers after basketball games and then shortly after that, he will be dating. He already loves the ladies so I am positive he will be quite the man around town. I hope that I will be able to teach him all the things he will need to know about girls and life in general because I don't want his future spouse to ever say "Didn't your mother ever teach you anything?"
Today, as we were talking about the future (he is so excited about starting school in the fall) he told me that he would always be my baby boy. He also told me that when the teacher said it was math time he would tell her that he already knew how to do "maf." (He is pretty good at math, though.)
I never knew how much you could love someone until I met him. Hudson stole my heart from the very beginning and I have never looked back. When I look at his face, it melts my heart every single time. I am excited for him that he is growing up; there are so many things that he wants to do. At the same time, though, I am scared and sad about all the things that he is about to experience.
Travis and I will no longer be the primary influences in his life, his friends will be. I won't be able to filter the things that he learns and hears from others. I don't want to lose him. I am dreading the day that he is too busy or embarrassed to give me a kiss before he runs off to play. I can only hope that he will always know how much I love him and support him. I will be proud of him no matter what and as long as he is happy in his life, I will consider my parenting a success.
Hudson Joseph Ellen (or Hudson Jophes, as he says) is my "best boy ever" and I hope he never forgets it. He is my smile, my heart and my love. He makes my world sparkle.
Hudson is the sweetest child I have ever known. He loves to love. When he tells me I am beautiful (which is pretty often,) I feel like I have just won the Miss America contest. He is always ready to cuddle and always appreciative of gifts, no matter how big or small. I have never seen a kid get so excited about a plastic stool so he could reach the sink. When he's tired he likes to rub my ponytail and I love it. He is the reason I won't cut my hair.
Hudson loves to sing and listen to music. (He gets that from me.) Right now, his favorite is Jet - "Are You Gonna Be My Girl" but his recent playlist includes the Black Eyed Peas and The White Stripes. And of course, he loves Paul McCartney's Band on the Run. He knows the entire album. He plays a mean "air drum," just like his momma and don't tell anyone but he likes to dance with his sister. Hudson also loves to do crafts like me and has a new love of bedazzling. I love that he takes after me in some ways because other than these things (and a flair for the dramatics - we actually had to have a bedside vigil tonight when he scraped his leg; he is hoping he will be able to make a swift recovery so he can come on vacation with us tomorrow but as he stated "I can't control it!") he is all Travis.
He is a boy's boy. He loves sports and wants to play superhero (or as he calls it "action") all the time. He loves to fish and Travis is counting the days until he is old enough to take on the annual Alabama trip for the crappie run. He likes fart and poop jokes and when we wrestle he gives me a "butt face" which is exactly what it sounds like - he sits on my face until I tap out. It generally doesn't take me long.
Hudson is inquisitive (see my prior blog called Questions and Answers) and loves to know everything. He has asked me after I gotten home from work on more than one occasion, "So Mom, how much money did you make today?" He wants to know how everything is made and why your pinkie is called a pinkie and why I don't know a lot about space. He loves to do math and I am not positive but I am pretty sure he is starting learn how to read (I am not sure because neither Travis or I have taught him but he keeps "reading" things. He might be just guessing what the words are but if he is then he is a pretty good guesser.) He is always talking about what kind of school he should go to - fire school, chef school - he can't decide.
Right now, he thinks that I am pretty much the coolest thing ever. He loves to hang out with me and hates to stay anywhere overnight besides home. I fear that those days are quickly coming to a close. Hudson will soon be ditching me for sleepovers after basketball games and then shortly after that, he will be dating. He already loves the ladies so I am positive he will be quite the man around town. I hope that I will be able to teach him all the things he will need to know about girls and life in general because I don't want his future spouse to ever say "Didn't your mother ever teach you anything?"
Today, as we were talking about the future (he is so excited about starting school in the fall) he told me that he would always be my baby boy. He also told me that when the teacher said it was math time he would tell her that he already knew how to do "maf." (He is pretty good at math, though.)
I never knew how much you could love someone until I met him. Hudson stole my heart from the very beginning and I have never looked back. When I look at his face, it melts my heart every single time. I am excited for him that he is growing up; there are so many things that he wants to do. At the same time, though, I am scared and sad about all the things that he is about to experience.
Travis and I will no longer be the primary influences in his life, his friends will be. I won't be able to filter the things that he learns and hears from others. I don't want to lose him. I am dreading the day that he is too busy or embarrassed to give me a kiss before he runs off to play. I can only hope that he will always know how much I love him and support him. I will be proud of him no matter what and as long as he is happy in his life, I will consider my parenting a success.
Hudson Joseph Ellen (or Hudson Jophes, as he says) is my "best boy ever" and I hope he never forgets it. He is my smile, my heart and my love. He makes my world sparkle.
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