Found It

I found the darn receipt. It was in my briefcase---the SAME briefcase I ransacked in the parking lot---YESTERDAY. It was safely tucked away in the little zippered side pouch---the one designed to hold IMPORTANT DOCUMENTS LIKE RECEIPTS!
The trouble here is not with the briefcase but with ME. You see...I tend to obsess when it comes to bags. Every day I change bags. I change the bag I haul all of my shtuff around to and from work. I change the bag I call my purse. And each time the bags get bigger and heavier. The muscle between my neck and my right shoulder blade is ON FIRE right now because of my compulsive need to lug not only shtuff, but HEAVY shtuff to and fro. Anywho I switched out bags yesterday because I was in much more of a "leather briefcase" kind of mood than an "embroidered canvas tote" sort of mood. Turns out the canvas totes are a lot like the ugly shoes...unforgiving but oh so practical. Had I stayed with the tote I would have simply dropped the receipt into the cluttered abyss where it would have surely been easily retrieved. But, NO, I had to go and screw things up by trying to appear organized and put-together. I even went so far as to utilize the zippered pouch. Never again.

Do You Have Your Receipt?

I save EVERYTHING. And I save it ALL in my purse. You would be amazed at the things I can pull out of my purse. It is somewhat reminiscent of Mary Poppins’ magical carpet bag...you know...the one she pulls a FLOOR LAMP OUT OF?! However, even though I may keep everything I never actually seem to have thething I need when I need it. Take this afternoon’s out of the way excursion to the big city. I had two and a half hours to kill before I had to drop one of my kids off for bible study and I wanted to return an impulse buy I snagged on the fly last week (plus there was a new book I wanted to grab at Barnes & Noble). So I decided to make the trek in the name of multitasking. Seeing as the item I needed to return was located at the store farthest away I went there first. As usual I was "on the clock" -- it was getting close to the end of the day rush hour and I did not want to get stuck in traffic---with, what looked to be a storm brewing. As soon as I parked the car I sent the kids on inside while I rummaged....and dug...and cussed...and searched. NOTHING. This can't be...I purged the trunk and even dared to stick my hand underneath the driver's seat. STILL NOTHING. Determined I went on inside and did my best "I just drove ALL the way in from OUT OF TOWN and I can't seem to find my receipt...but I know it is in here somewhere" routine. This usually does the trick at Wally World but it didn't really work with "The Manager" in the big city. Stubbornly I plopped myself down on the floor and proceeded to take EVERYTHING out of my HUGE purse. There were over five receipts from WALMART, one from Walgreen's, and three from a department store....just NOT from THIS STORE! I also had a baggie of almonds, a bottled water, two bottles of allergy medications, seven different lip glosses (though I never wore any today), ANOTHER PURSE, a book, and countless other odds and ends that I obvious felt compelled to bring in the event that I NEVER RETURNED HOME AGAIN.
Ultimately it came down to the fact that I would not be able to get my money back; I could only receive an in-store credit. NOT! I straightened my posture and looked The Manager in the eye and told her that I Would Be Back Because I Do HAVE THE RECEIPT! Hmmmpppfffffft.

Becoming

I am getting old. There...I said it. The thing is...I've never minded saying it. In fact, I've always wanted to say it. For as long as I can remember I wanted to be thirty. I can still remember sitting in my childhood bedroom daydreaming about that ever-elusive and all-knowing age. Now that I am a year away from forty I am trying to determine which age I want to be now. Thirty was good for me...as every year past it has been...much better than all those years before (with exception to the glorious ages of 7-12...I loved those kid years). But now I am starting to really comprehend all the talk about midlife crises and mortality. I am a kid at heart trapped in an old soul. That just about sums up my entire existence. There are times when I want to be so silly and then there are times when I actually look forward to being the little old lady with the jowls who shuffles happily through the library. But is that lady happily shuffling because she lived a full life...one filled with child-like wonder? Or is she simply happy to be alive? Hopefully a little of both.

I'd like to start living a little more purposefully than I have been. I want to be able to enjoy being the age I am instead of waiting to become another age.

Maybe it has something to do with the fact that my kids are teetering on the edge of being little kids and becoming young adults. As their mom I am starting to worry that I have not done all that I should have...all that I could have...to ensure that their childhoods were the best. "WAIT!" I want to yell...."Don't cross over that great divide just yet." Deep down I know that I did the best I could. Deep down I know that they know that I love and support them. Perhaps that is just how it is with motherhood...we always want what is best yet fear what is worst.

In one regard my "time of becoming" has passed. I am who I am. Yet, in another regard, there is still much more for me to become. I am starting to get excited at all of the possibilities that await me. Part of my becoming is being able to watch my kids become themselves...and if that is what it means to grow old...then lucky me!

I'm Normal...How Weird is THAT?!

After a few days of waiting for the results of my blood work to come in I was finally told that I am perfectly normal. It seems that every time I actually feel great it never occurs to me to go get a check up...you know...to find out why I feel so gosh darn good. But, every time that I feel like crud I rush off to the doctor and subject myself to all kinds of specimens only to find out the reason that I am feeling nauseated, barfy, fatigued, shakey, jittery, puny, and off-kilter is because I am healthy. Hmmmpppfff. Of course, I am elated to know that the inner workings of my being are operating like they are designed to despite the fact that I often pummel them with sugar, caffeine, and salt on a daily basis...oh yeah...and an ounce or two or twelve of the beverage du jour.



I have been trying to make better choices when it comes to eating and so far it has only left me starving for more! I actually did some yoga yesterday and if there had been a pizza in the house I would have eaten the entire thing, box included! A couple of days before that I walked a mile and a half and felt so dehydrated afterwards I was craving an ice cold beer. I've got to hand it to the health nuts out there...talk about discipline! Just this morning, for example, I ate a sensible breakfast of Special K with almonds thankyouverymuch and as soon as I got to work a coworker approached me with bean and cheese taco

Say "MAMA"...now "HUSH!!!"

Is there anything better than realizing that both of your children are asleep? IN THE CAR? AT THE SAME TIME?! Well, that is exactly what happened today on the way home from church. Okay...so they more than likely weren't zonked out and drooling, but they both had their eyes closed and they were not fighting. It was so pleasant to hear only the diesel engine...for fifteen minutes...IN A ROW!

This got me thinking about how for years we, as parents, encourage our kids to talk and interact with us only to pray for them to just shut up and leave us alone for one gosh darn minute! What is up with this line of reasoning? And then, there are all of those parents who have been there before us chanting phrases like, "Oh, you better cherish these moments now!" and "There will come a day when you'll wish you still had their fighting to listen to...at least then you'd know where they were!" Enough people! I don't know which parenting planet you raised your kids on, but in my galaxy my kids are around me 25/8 and I'm just saying I could use a moment to breathe in AND out without a face or an opinion within a two-feet radius.

Stuck on You

One of the sheer joys of living in the country is not knowing what the next day has in store for you…that and not knowing which creature will take the “Mi casa es su casa” saying to heart. Take this morning, for example. As soon as I shuffled my way into the kitchen my eyes immediately were drawn to something on my window. It was more or less a large splot and I thought that, perhaps, it was one of those huge moths. Nope. It was a frog…on. my. window. As in, stuck to it with its little webbed toes. As in, don’t these kinds of frogs live in the jungles of Columbia? Of course, I could only see its underside since it was stuck to the glass. I immediately ran to my car to grab my camera out of the trunk before it…hopped??... slid away??? I was amazed to discover that it was not alien green like I would have guessed, but instead, it looked exactly like the bark of an oak tree. My daughter wanted to keep it as a pet but since we were rushing to make it to our church’s early service I wasn’t able to “whip up” a terrarium/biodome/cage/habitat for it…I know…Bad Mama.

Hit a Bump, Mama!

Sometimes life just gets too hot to handle. Sometimes you just need to Hit a Bump. You see, long before I could drive I took up residence in the back seat of my mother's chocolate brown Oldsmobile Delta Eighty-Eight. This vehicle of ours was affectionately referred to as "The Heap." There was nothing in my life more mortifying than being driven up to the middle school in The Heap. Picture, if you will, a rattle-trap of coughs and sputters and oftentimes black smoke. If you listen closely you'll even hear the high-pitched squeak and eventual POP of the door being opened and closed. I was never more religious than when praying that the Brown Turd would not die right there in front of the peers of my adolescent youth. The cream colored rooftop had the look of a ragged carpet as its peels flapped in the wind. The silver duct tape with the blackened and curled edges held the backseat's vinyl in place. My poor mother...she always wanted to drop me off front and center. Didn't she know the reason I vehemently argued to be dropped off a couple of blocks before the school?
I guess I never really went all out and explained to her that I was embarrassed as all get out. I suppose I did not want to hurt her feelings...I think I knew, on some level, that she was doing her best to keep her own head held high.
She always kept her composure--even when she would turn off the ignition only to have the car shake and wobble and rumble for an entire minute and a half. In some aspects it was fun for my sister and I to experience such an amusement park ride in the comfort of our own car---the duct tape holding us safely in place. But in other ways it was yet another moment filled with the terror of being seen by another human being.
Having lived in an old green-shingled farm house without such amenities as central air and heat for over 20 years I can attest to the fact that the summers in the Texas Hill Country can get quite sticky. To this day I can still recall sitting in the backseat of the Heap with the windows down as Mom drove us to town to go the local store aptly named Poor Boy, Inc...or PBI as the townsfolk called it. The back road we traveled had all kinds of twists and turns and many hills and dips. There was always one section of the road that-if hit just right-would trigger the air conditioning in the car to come on. Whenever this happened it was glorious! We'd all whoop and holler and crank up the windows as quickly as we could so as to trap the cool air inside. From that moment on, every time we got in the car, my sister and I would always call out, "Hit a Bump, Mama!"
I have found that there are many bumps along the road we all must travel and sometimes we have to hit bottom before we can start to feel any relief.

Inside Out

When we first brought home an abandoned kitty it was with the sole purpose of owning an “outdoor cat.” Since we live in the country we thought it would be most beneficial to have a feline roaming the perimeter of our homestead keeping creatures of the slimy,poisonous, and stinging nature from entering our abode. However, there were a few circumstances that kept said kitty indoors for quite some time. There was the obvious fact that she was just so darn precious. There was also the fact that she was just a helpless, defenseless, baby. I’d also like to point out that I was instructed to keep her in the bathroom for several weeks to help her establish a sense of security, a sense of home, and a sense of bonding. And let us not forget the fact that the chilly fall weather was upon us; thus I thought it best to keep her indoors until spring. Did I mention she was precious?
Well, this here dog lover became a cat lover and could not bear the thought of knowing my little Snickers was shivering up in a tree petrified that the beasts of the night were hunting her down. Nevertheless, it wasn’t until after Spring Break and after most of the late frosts were behind us I let Snickers sleep outside overnight.
She is still alive and thriving, however, she does an excellent job of looking through our glass doors and windows mewing pathetically. Every time one of us opens a door she bolts indoors and disappears. Several hours later she will be found sacked out in the loft where she will sleep for many more hours if allowed. I think it is because she has pulled an all-nighter fearing for her very life and only rests when she is “home.”
Just this morning, while trying to rush out of the house already late to school/work, Snickers squeezed herself between me and the slamming door, thus securing herself inside. Fortunately, we were exiting via the washroom so the inside door to the kitchen was already closed and I was able to thwart her plans (although I must say I felt her pain…believe me…if I could lock myself in the house and never leave I most certainly would). I tossed her outside convincing myself that the day would be lovely and filled with plenty of bugs and butterflies to pounce upon. No sooner had she disappeared into the brush, than two stray dogs showed themselves near our barn. My son had just turned his chickens loose and if you know a thing or two about chickens you know there ain’t no getting’ ‘em locked back up. If you know a thing or two about dogs then you know some of ‘em like to chase and murder chickens. Our chickens peel out around the corners of the house to greet us every time we come home.
I spent the next ten minutes trying to convince Snickers that I wanted to catch her, hold her, and put her inside the house. Eventually my daughter and I closed in on her and were able to grab her and throw her in the briar patch…poor poor cat.
All of this before 7:15 in the morning! Of course, it wasn’t until we got home that I realized I had refilled Snickers’ food bowl outside which meant she didn’t have anything to eat inside. See…the brooding never ends!

Counting Down

There is a clock counting down the number of minutes left until the borrowed computer I'm on shuts down. It seems that at any given point in time I am being timed. Before I go to bed I make sure my alarm is set. When I wake up ...er...when my alarm wakes me up...I stumble to the coffee pot hoping to pour a cup before my alotted three minutes of "me time" is up. I rush to get the kids up, dressed, fed, coiffed, and out the door before the clock screams 6:45 (this has happened once...usually it's at or after 7:00...thus making me LATE and messing up all the other timers of my day). We rush to school/work and mark our progress by the programmed spots on the radio stations combined with our exact location when they play...if we are past the county line when the "weird story" comes on...we just might make it...before the county line...fuggittaboutit! Since I work in a school my entire day is based on increments of time...TO THE SECOND! Not so fun for an abstract-randomly creative soul such as I. And yet, I cannot function without my watch...I HAVE TO KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS!!! Speaking of...I only have 14 more minutes left and then I guess this monitor will turn back into a rat...or else I will.

My Girl

My mother always told me that she was so glad that she had daughters. She told me so for many reasons; one of them being that she knew she would be taken care of when she was sick or much much older. I, too, have a daughter, and for the past couple of days she has been the one who has taken care of me. She has selflessly tended to me. She has rubbed my neck. She LET ME SLEEP WITH HER FAVORITE BLANKET! She's the one who "gets it" even when no words are spoken. She is the one most tuned in to my deepest emotions. She is the one who pats me on the back. She is my daughter.

You Are Getting Sleeeepy...

Still feeling a little puny today, so I snuck away to the doctor's office to see if I could get some blood work done. I figured it has been a while since I've been poked (take that as you will) and that was when I found out I was hypoglycemic. I needed a clean bill of health to erase any fears of contacting a new strain of a yet-to-be-named killer virus that was slowly attacking my insides (see what I mean about "brooding?"). Now remember, my symptoms included extreme fatigue and lack of energy...and I say this because the physician's assistant (that's who I saw...not the Doctor...why...that would be INSANE!) told me that I would need to fast before I had any blood drawn. So, let me get this straight: You want a weak person to starve herself for a little over 12 hours so a medical professional can take the living blood out of her?! Yeah...that ought to secure me a place on the floor!
So, tonight I will deprive myself of anything to eat or drink after 10:00 (not a problem as I have been falling asleep before 8:00!) and then I'll have to not eat breakfast, not have my coffee, and pleasantly arrive at work where I'll have to control the shakes until I can hopefully sneak away sometime before 11:00.
I'm thinking a trip to the Frosty machine is in store after the "withdrawal."

Z What I Mean?

Oh the wonders of sleep! After spending a huge chunk of time resting up and recuperating from total fatigue (wish I could say it was all due to the marathon I participated in last weekend, or due to the remodeling project I commandeered...but, no...I would never subject myself to such punishment...it was actually a direct result of living life) I showed signs of patience when my daughter rolled her eyes after one of my motherly comments...I exhibited total control...and what's more...while I was aware she was doing it I wasn't the least bit perturbed by it. Freaky! Normally I'd immediately regress and become an antagonistic teen and get sucked right into the whole "Whatever?!" lingo and body language routine. Perhaps some zzzzs are the only things I really truly need to be a better parent. Of course, this means that as soon as we get home I would have to go straight to bed while my family withers away from starvation and falls farther and farther behind in school because no one was there to help them with "their" homework. So how can I be the best me when I am stretched so thin I am mistaken for the rug beneath which everyone walks?

Jingle Jangle

I love my pets. I miss my pets when I am at work. A couple of times I have snuck my dog to work--but it turned out to be more work fretting over her and trying to be covert than simply longing to be home with her. I have one dog, a miniature Chaweenie (Dachshund/Chihuahua)named Roo and one tabby cat named Snickers (she's really my daughter's cat but you know how that goes...The Mama is The Mama is The Mama). Snickers and Roo each wear a collar and either tags or bells so that I know where they are at all times. Each tag/bell has a certain timbre to it so that I can differenciate between the two. Just the other day my daughter was playing with an extra collar and as soon as I heard the jangle I thought immediately of Roo. Today, I kept hearing what I thought was Snickers' bell all througout the day only that was impossible because I wasn't even home. It turns out the zipper on the lightweight sweater I was wearing sounding almost exactly like Snicker's bell. In some ways it brought me comfort but in other ways it freaked me out. I decided that when my pets have gone on to greener pastures I would get rid of any and all collars with jingles and jangles on them. I would rather keep pictures of them as cherished memories than to hear a jingle-jangle and involuntarily think they were still running around.

Drowsy Day

I woke up feeling extremely tired despite getting over 8 hours of sleep last night. My arms felt so heavy and I would become exhausted everytime I lifted them. The aching in my shoulders felt like I was carrying around cinder blocks. Nevertheless I drove myself to work and got the kids to school. A couple of times my daughter had to yell my name to keep me from falling asleep and multiple times I simply dropped my right arm into my lap because it simply felt too heavy to hold up even while clinging to the steering wheel.

Once I got to work my heart rate started increasing and I was becoming short of breath. Just walking from the parking lot to the office had me panting. I really thought that I needed to go back to sleep---only I was not necessarily "sleepy tired." It was more of an "internal exhaustion." I think it was my body desperately trying to get my attention.

I ended up leaving work a little after 8:30 and drove straight to the nearest gas station where I purchased a 32 oz. Gatorade with the hopes of rehydrating myself. I then drove to my parents' empty house and curled up on their couch. I felt a little bit giddy at the whole "playing hookey" notion of it all...especially when Days of Our Lives came on...a soap opera I used to watch religiously as a child but have not seen since mid high school. It is unbelievable how addicting those shows can be...I found myself invested in characters I didn't even know the names of within the first four minutes. I got a good 2 hour nap in and started feeling a little more recharged, but my arms are still bothering me.

Here's the thing: I don't think I'll EVER recover from not getting enough sleep...EVER! I have a hard time recalling certain events from when the kids were little, but I will NEVER forget the sleep deprivation part of it all...NEVER. I am one of those people who requires a LOT of UNINTERRUPTED sleep and I think it all just finally came crashing down on me this past weekend.

Role Reversal

Last night I tossed and turned and never could quite settle. As a family we had already agreed last night that we would not attend church in the morning. Knowing this ahead of time meant that I could allow my body to sleep in and then we could all make the most of the day at home. I suppose God was not real happy with my plans as I spent the entire night and well into the next afternoon writhing in nausea. I wasn't surprised as I had just finished nursing my daughter back to health after her 12 hour battle with a bug on Friday.

When I could hear that the family was awake I opened my door just enough to peek through and immediately my daughter whipped her head around in my direction. I hooked my finger back towards me signaling for her to come hither. One look at me and she asked, "Are you sick?" I'm not sure if it was the two day old mascara smears, the oily hair, or the palid and pained expression on my hangdog face that gave it away. For some reason I wanted her to stay in bed with me but she quickly edged over until she was way on the other side of the bed and then out the door telling me she did NOT want to get sick. But, before she left, she asked if there was anything she could get for me. I explained to her where to find the Emetrol (nausea medicine that if you have not tried it I highly recommend doing so...and then stocking up in bulk---safe for kids and grownups...even safe while breastfeeding...that's when I was first introduced to it....funny how nausea and kids go hand in hand...hmmmmmm.....). She came back and poured me my dose and then kept checking on me. I fell back asleep some time after 7:30 or 8:00 this morning and did not wake until 11:30! I sort of kind of felt a little bit better but I did not want to chance it so I just laid there talking to my dog who was licking herself. When I finally got up enough gumption to roll over I noticed there was a bottle of Sprite on my nightstand--it had a note wrapped around it. Immediately I felt better! That little mini-mama of mine left me a note saying that "Dear Mom, Here is this if you need it! I hope that you feel better!" It went on to say that she and her brother were outside exploring.

You know, there are times when your kids irritate the hell out of you, and then there are times, like these, when you realize that all of the times you did what you had to do--because you were the mom--really did make a difference. It is such an incredible feeling to have raised a child to the point where you can start to see them becoming their own person...and it is someone that you are proud of. The Sprite was one of the two bottles I bought for her when she was sick...I know she would have loved to have it as a treat today since we don't usually have sodas on hand. But, she sacrificed it because she knew that it would make me feel better...because she wanted to take care of me...because she loved me.

Welcome to the Brood!

First of all let me make one thing very clear: Within the posts of this blog you are not going to find any helpful hints about which formula to buy your brand new infant or which bottle works the best. I am not going to inundate you with advice on everything from playdates to play-doh. I will, however, dish about how irritatingly frustrating life can be as a WORKING MOTHER WHO LIVES IN THE COUNTRY! I wear the banner "Slacker Mom" with pride and, quite honestly, would crumble if I had to be "Mom of the Year" (according to society's standards). Lately I have tried reading some of the Mommy Blogs out there...and don't get me wrong...they are great...for new mommies. But what about the Mawms (said with head jutted forward, lower jaw dropped, eyes rolled back, and an exasperated and exaggerated amount of breath by her prepubescent kids) who can't even remember having toddlers (or try desperately not to) because it was NOT exactly Parenting Magazine worthy? What about the Mawms who care-just as much as the mommies-but who are too tired to show it? What about the Mawms who secretly brood on, over, and about the fact that the stage of motherhood they are in is no longer about car seats but about possible car wrecks...it is no longer about No More Tears but about More Tears than Ever Before?

NonFriction

It's always been said the truth is stranger than fiction...and I can attest that this is definitely true! My entire existence has been worthy of being lived out between the covers of a book and I have often been told that I should write about it. When I started this blog this past summer I found it to be a type of creative release unlike no other. While I am honest to a fault I do want to make certain that I keep some things private. It is in my nature to share and while I will still do so it will be with great care. Nevertheless I cannot NOT write...I have to get the words down and out. I am looking forward to sharing more pictures with you and focusing more on the hilarity of life (although you'll have to read each entry while wearing irony-colored glasses).