On a Roll

I take great honor in knowing that I have what it takes to change a roll of toilet paper.  It must be something I inheirited from my mother, as she too was gifted in this department.  Not only can I change it but I can sense when  it's going to need to be changed....I know....amazing!  It's like having "the right stuff" without having to fly to the moon.  I don't think there is a badge awarded for this skill of mine but if there were I would iron that baby on pronto!  Not only am I able to accomplish this feat at home, I am able to help out my workplace and the community at large as well.  Yup...the roll always ends when I enter the room.  I'm just lucky that way I guess.  Last week my son and I were visiting one of our favorite thrift stores when my bladder started to swell.  I asked the shop owner where the nearest restroom was with the hopes that she'd say, "Oh we have one here!"...instead she replied, "Uh....um....the nearest one is at Church's Chicken."  With this in mind I did the only thing a girl could do...I kept shopping for bargains.  When I simply could not hold it any longer I politely told the shop owner that I wanted to keep shopping but that I would be leaving my pile of goods and my son behind to waddle across the street.  This worked because she immediately reached underneath her counter and pulled out a key on a stick and a 4-pack of toilet paper.  I sh** you not!  She proceeded to tell me that she hadn't had a chance to replenish the TP and hated for me to go back there without it (sweet lady).  I grabbed the package and the numchuck-looking key and raced to the rear ...of the store!  Like a fireman and a Navy Seal all wrapped in one I broke through the door, ripped apart the plastic, and, in mere  seconds I was on a roll!

Google in a Box

At yesterday's estate sale I walked right past the Log Cabin Syrup tin, the plastic Mary Kay pouches, and the mitre saw, and headed straight toward the boxes of books.  One such box was filled with reference materials including The Standard Dictionary of Facts. Say what?!  A whole entire BOOK of FACTS?!  It was like finding Google in a Box!  My how far we have come.  Even though it is nice to be able to search online without having to pick mud dauber clumps off of pages it is just a tad sad to think that books such as the ones above are relegated to cardboard boxes at estate sales.  Maybe I'm "old school" but I can still flip through a dictionary and find what I'm looking for faster than I can if I go upstairs, turn on the computer and log in.  While I have one hand firmly holding a book, the other hand has been known to upload ebooks.  I've been trying out the ikindle app on my itouch and must admit that it is quite convenient to have a "shelf" full of books with me at all times.  But I do miss the physicality of actually holding a book, turning the pages, and, yes, smelling it.  While I vow to keep up with all of the technological advances that present themselves, I vow also to cherish my "real" books.  They are like friends to me and bring back wonderful memories everytime I see them.  Being able to read ebooks has made me a little more selective in which books I choose to purchase as hard copies and that is a good thing as there is very little wall or floor space left in my house for more tomes.  In case you were wondering, I did not purchase The Standard Dictionary of Facts, the main reason being it had mildew all inside and along the edge of every page....something I haven't had to deal with when searching Google lately.

Don't Touch My Stuff!

I went to an estate auction early this morning.  Normally I love a good deal...but every time I attend an estate sale I get overcome with emotion.  I become very saddened by the fact that the owner of all of the possessions has no idea that all of their belongings are being fondled by strangers.  This makes me rethink my own hoarding issues.  I love people, I really do...I just don't like to share.  I was especially protective of my stuff as a child.  I distinctly remember the times my mother's best friend would come over and visit us for the day.  She would bring along her daughter, who was the same age as me.  I really liked this girl...except when she marched right over to my closet and started trying on my shoes.  Since I was taught to be polite I held my tongue albeit through a clenched jaw.  I can easily recall walking over to my mother who was enjoying her sweet tea and catching up with her friend at the dining room table and whispering in her ear, "She's wearing my shoes!" My eyes were no doubt as wide as they could be trying to translate my dire need for an intervention--pronto! 
As I walked around the front yard of the old farm house it was easy for me to tell that the lady of the house was an avid cook and had a way with a sewing machine.  She enjoyed quilts and all manor of costume jewelry.  If you study the photo you'll notice a wedding dress hanging on the front porch.  All of the other items were laid out on folding tables in the yard separated by category to be auctioned off in lots.  This got me thinking about all of the things that are mine...all of the minutiae that I simply can't part with for whatever reason.  It scares me to think of the unthinkable...what if....    But then a smile starts to tug at the corner of my lip...just one corner...a kind of smirk.....just what exactly would one be able to deduce about "the lady of my house?"  I certainly am no whiz in the kitchen...although I have every Pampered Chef item ever sold.  I've never sewn an article of clothing (unless you count that plaid sleep shirt I was forced to make in homemaking)...but I have several quilts.  Hmmm....just what does our stuff say about us?  I am a tad nervous about all of my writings and journals and snippets of papers lying about....those are the real tell-alls.....I think it's time to invest in a vault!

Brace Yourself

My thirteen year old daughter got braces today.  Prior to this her life was "over" at the mere thought.  Now...not so much.  The hardest part (for me) was listening to her list of worries (she's a brooder like her mother).  While I could certainly understand her plight I found it hard to relate as I was pretty much "okay with it" when I got braces at her age.  Her teeth are relatively straight...it's more of a "jaw alignment issue" for her.  We're looking at approximately 14 months of payments...er...braces. The price tag is a definite eye-opener for a bargain hunter like me.  Wouldn't it be nice if items such as braces went on sale every now and then?  BOGO BRACES!!! (that's Payless Shoe's "Buy One Get One" slogan for those of you who may not have ever shopped at a place with "Pay Less" in its title).  As for me...I absolutley love thrift stores and rummage shops.  In fact, earlier in the day I purchased a diamond ring for $4.77...same price I paid for the chair I'm sitting in right now!  Okay...I'll admit...there's a slight chance the "diamond"  (which is at least 1 carat) is not real.....but....it could be.  But back to the braces.....while I probably wouldn't buy a set of "gently worn" braces for my daughter it would be nice to find them on sale.  The very thought of plunking down a LOT of money on anything gets me all queasy inside and yet today I handed over a check in which the amount box was a tad too small for the amount.  And I was buying something that A)my daughter did NOT want; B)was going to sink my daughter's self esteem; and C)was, quite frankly, not fashionable.  Can you just imagine what I could have bought instead??  We're talking items the likes of A)a sports car; B)a small swimming pool; and C)an entirely fun, cute, and fashionable wardrobe!  It's so weird how we deprive ourselves of some of the things we want because they cost so much and yet we'll fork over the funds for items such as A)a new transmission; B)a new pump for a dried up well; and C)torture devices for our children because...let's face it....they all could use a little straightening up....and, darn it, you just can't put a price tag on that.

What a Crock

I had this crazy notion that once I was at home for the summer I'd be able to live life the way I was intended.  I assumed I'd be able to wake up refreshed from all the lounging I did the day before.  I figured I'd actually sip my coffee for hours (instead of spilling it on me en route to work).  I just knew I'd do all of this ALONE while my TEENAGERS SLEPT LATE.  I know...I'm insane.  The problem with that diagnosis is that no will even come and take me away.  You see...it's "that time in MY life" where "time off" translates as "time to cater to my children's needs."  Who do they think they are expecting me to rise and shine TO AN ALARM on my days off?!  I certainly don't recall reading this fine print anywhere in the parenting manual the lactation nurse left in my custody all those years ago.  Come to think of it I don't recall much of anything anymore.  All I know is that I thought our schedule was frenetic and on the verge of emploding while school was in session.  Ha! 
For the past couple of weeks I've counted myself lucky if I left my house with at least some form of clothing on at least one part of it.  This is because my son wakes up BEFORE his chickens.  He exercises BEFORE my coffee pot even clicks on!  (I'm thinking of having him evaluated....something is not right....).
I love him dearly nonetheless...especially since he inherited every gene I don't have.  And have I mentioned that this strange beast is ALWAYS HUNGRY!  Yeah...'bout that....  
This is the ultimate kink in my chord.  How on Earth is one expected to prepare a meal ...a hearty meal...fit for a growing boy before he attends a strength and speed "camp" 4 days a week for a MONTH?!?  HOW?!  I haven't even had "my time" out on the porch sipping coffee and flipping magazine pages!  I haven't been able to "ease into my day."  I AM NOT AWAKE!  Gone are the "pour yourself some cereal" days.  So too are the "how about some toast and jelly?" mornings.  Now I am expected to turn on the stove and measure multiple ingredients, all before 7:00 in the morning...IN  THE SUMMER! What a crock!

Giving Voice to Change

This here pic is of one of our young roosters.  He is just now starting to crow...er...attempt to crow.  This means that inside and outside of my house voices are changing.  While my son's voice seems to have deepened effortlessly without any embarrassing croaks, the same cannot be said about this here rooster.  His daily crows remind me of those old-timey barnyard sound machine/toys I used to shake and tip over repeatedly to hear those muffled moos and baaahs from....remember those?  They were nothing more than a small, enclosed tube with something mysterious inside that, when shaken or tipped over, emitted a sound.  Anywho...the sounds coming from this teenrooster are down right hilarious.  Everytime I hear his crow (which sounds more like he's being strangled to death rather than trying to rise and shine) I can't help but to think about how we all have our awkward stages.  Sometimes those stages last longer than we care to acknowledge but, in the end, we grow out of them...if not through them onto the next awkward stage.  He makes me want to do what I choose to do and do so boldly--without fear of anyone else's reaction or comment.  So what if I am "a little off" in my attempts...who cares if I don't look or sound or act like I am "suppose to"...I am at a point in my life where I have a few things to say and don't want to keep my words stuck in a muffled tube.  It's time to shake things up and crow!

Simply Stuffed

Simplify! Simplify! Simplify!  That's what I kept telling myself that I was going to do as soon as I was off for the summer.  I mentally prepared myself to toss everything I ever owned except for my coffee maker...and my mug...and my favorite blanket....oh yeah...and that little swallow's nest I found on the ground.......

This was obviously going to be harder than I thought.  I've steeled myself against sentimentality...I don't want to live in clutter and be surrounded by junk only to one day die and have a house full of strangers pick through my belongings.  I want to own my stuff rather than having it own me (yes, I've been reading "How To Organize" books...but now I have so many of them I don't know where to put them)!

I go back and forth between craving a minimalist and modern existence free from clutter and opting instead for my "lived in/everything has a story" reality.  Every now and then I pretend that at tornado is on its' way and realize that not much of it really matters anyway...I would certainly live without my dust collectors...yes, life would go on.  I've thought often about the possibility of boxing up all of my stuff and storing it (but that would mean I'd have to purchase a barn the size of a warehouse). 

Everytime I opt to carry a small purse I inevitably need my hand sanitizer, my laundry stick, some tissue, the bug spray, and a travel pillow.  But when I bring my huge purse...okay...BAG...I can't find any of the items I know are in there.  I like being prepared...I just don't like to prepare.  I am getting extremly tired of thinking ahead and predicting any and all possible outcomes to any situation that might present itself.  Since I've been off work I've packed and unpacked twice and am getting ready to pack again.  Both times I overdid it..as usual.  Both times I didn't have what I needed/wanted... or did I? 

The Long and Shorts of it

Oh the weather outside is HOT!  So off I went to buy some shorts for the kids.  Is it just me or are the girls' shorts getting shorter and the boys' shorts  getting longer?  When I held up my son's shorts they looked like capris on me!  And when I held up my daughter's shorts they looked .... well...we just won't go there! 
It's times like these when it is fun to have "one of each"...a son and a daughter.  I obviously don't have to listen to fights about having to share clothes.  But I do enjoy having a boy and a girl in my life.  Their interests and their personalities never cease to warm me.  They have inadvertantly opened my eyes to the differences in the sexes.  On a daily basis I am reminded of just how body conscious girls can be and how oblivious boys are.  I see first-hand how guys grab an article of clothing off the rack and buy it while girls have to finger every item in the store, try on one of each color, debate over an indecipherable hue difference, and then 'narrow it down' to the "final 15" choices.  Boys can get by on two pair of shorts all summer long while girls need multiple shorts in multiple lengths, colors, and textures.  And so the saga continues well into adulthood.  There is no use trying to figure it out....we are the way we are because that's just the way we are!
(That being said: this girl will not only be purchasing longer shorts this summer but they will be camouflaged as well!)

NeverAgainLand

As the days passed it became painfully clear we must have taken the 2nd star to the left as we traveled straight on 'til morning.  We were nowhere near the likes of Neverland.  We had ended up in NeverAgainLand...AGAIN!  That's right folks, I took another trip to the coast...something I totally recall saying "Never Again" to last year...and the year before that.....

So why did I commit?  ...ah yes....I have KIDS....kids who like to go to the beach!  Kids who don't have to worry about packing, providing, or applying sunscreen in a timely manner because....well...because they have a brooding chick to take care of all that!  So, after a sticky day spent on the beach I immediately jumped into the fresh, clean, clear, refreshing water of the swimming pool...THE best feeling of the day!!  I was FINALLY grit free!!  After a few flips and handstands I noticed a couple sunning themselves on an upper deck.  I loved how the only thing I could see was their shadows through the mesh.  My first thoughts were of Peter Pan and his playful shadow.  Were these two people real? Or had they been reduced to mere shadows of their former selves? 

I enjoyed spending vacation time with family but I am not the world's biggest fan of sand, sweat, and sunburnt skin (see posts: "She's Gone Coastal" 6/30/08 & "The Beach is for the Birds" 7/29/09).  But as I observed the animated shadows in front of me I began to feel lighter myself.  I was rinsed, refreshed, and ready to proceed with the evening now that I had "bathed" myself in the pool (one less chore to deal with later on).  I started to realize that, like Peter Pan, our childhoods should be filled with happy thoughts and fun adventures.  Sure, there are ticking clocks around every corner and even a couple of pirates here and there wanting to steal the things we treasure most.  But if our treasures are our memories...well...no one can take those from us. 

And so, in an effort to gift my children with a summer memory of time spent with grandparents, parents, and each other...memories of body surfing, boogie boarding, and wave jumping...countless hours of dominoes, inside jokes, and giggling until the inevitable happens.....I took a trip to NeverAgainLand....again.

Gypsy

Sitting on the couch with my daughter's legs resting across my own. We are connected via the sharing of earbuds. She is sharing a new song she downloaded onto her iPod today; Shakira's "Gypsy." I'm still learning the lyrics but so far I like the idea of being free...free from all of the things that hold me back...free to be me. I also love the idea of being a part of my daughter's world as opposed to being apart from it.

In the morning we will leave for a mini vacation to the beach. We will embrace the opportunity to walk barefoot in the sand...free from our tight-fitting shoes and all of the other things that bind and limit us. We shall be free...gypsies in the sand.

Time to Negotiate

A couple of days ago I treated myself to lunch...I'm thoughtful that way.  Although I truly do enjoy the company of other people (sometimes) I often prefer to be alone.  Maybe it has something to do with the fact that my soul craves the opportunity to collect her thoughts....to recharge....to simply "be."  While that may be true, as a working mother I am surprised that I do not have a permanent indentation in the meaty part of my shoulder from all of the incessant poking it receives.  Allow me to give you an example:  "poke-poke-poke-Mom! Mom!poke-poke-poke-Mom!! Mom!!poke-poke-poke-Miss!! Miss!! poke-poke-poke!"  There are times when I have to restrain myself from screaming "GO AWAY!! LEAVE ME ALONE!!!" 

And that is why, during my last week of work--a week without students and the typical after-school taxi services I offer my children...free of charge...I'm thoughtful that way...I found myself the single occupant of a table for four in one of my favorite Chinese food restaurants. 

As I sipped my soup and chewed my chicken I found that I was finally slowing down...relaxing..."being."  When my check arrived so to did my fortune: 

"Negotiations move along smoothly.  The outcome is favorable!"

My first thought was..."What am I in need of negotiating?  Huh?  Where's the part that predicts I'm going to collect a windfall?"  I have to admit I was a little let-down...I really wanted a "good" fortune...something I could believe in...hang on to...as I began my summer break.  But just this morning, after some quiet devotional time alone in my loft, I began to see my "fortune" in an entirely different light.  There is another definition of the word "negotiate" as found in Barron's Pocket Dictionary and Thesaurus:  "Get over an obstacle or difficulty." ....hmmmm.... now that's more like it!!!  I couldn't help but notice that this definition was the third and final entry.  This got me thinking that maybe our first, or even second thought, impression, or feeling, may not always be the "right" one.  Sometimes we have to negotiate around several obstacles in our paths, in our lives, in our souls to find a favorable outcome. 

Free At Last!

Fortunately I have never been in jail before....but I have been a prisoner....a prisoner of work that is.  But today was officially my "release day."  I love the fact that educators actually have a beginning and an ending to their work year.  We get to clean up, clean out, and ultimately walk out.  As I walked out of the doors of the school building that I call home for 10 months out of the year I did so with a bounce in my step.  In under one minute I went from being a paid professional adult to a school girl without a care in the world...I was a kid again!!! I wanted to throw reams of paper up into the air and fling my legs back behind me like they always did in those old Toyota commercials.  I wanted to peel out of the parking lot and meet up with all of my friends and head to the lake...windows down.  Instead I drove to Walmart and went grocery shopping.  My school girl bubble burst as soon as remembered that I had two starving children waiting at home.  The good news is that I realized that I can actually be a functioning member of society when I am not working and I am shopping sans kids.  It was actually a revelation I tell you!  I was in and out of there with only the items that I came for...and I didn't have to turn my back to the security cameras to scold the little eye-roller either.  All of a sudden it became all too clear to me:  I am capable of ............anything.  I actually carried on a conversation with a complete stranger....I did not huff and puff with the customer in front of me could not figure out how to swipe their card or tap the screen..... I WAS FINALLY NOT IN A HURRY FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!!!!!!
Now, don't get me wrong here....I do love my job (thank heaven for that!) but I still can't figure out the actual crime I committed that landed me there. 

Will You Help Me Do Something By Myself?

Just the other day, right after receiving communion, I snuck out of church for a restroom break. As soon as I opened the door I could hear the voice of a little girl babbling on and on to her mother they way children do when they believe that sitting on the toilet is something that should take hours. In their unrushed way they will swing their little legs and talk and talk and talk…while Mama patiently tries to hurry them along. I heard “Mom” mumble something to which the little girl responded, “I can do it MYSELF!” By the time I came around the corner to wash my hands I noticed the same little girl, in white eyelet ankle socks and an all white summer Sunday dress, washing her hands HERSELF…albeit while standing on a chair her mother had provided for her---so the girl could have her “independence.” This child was simply beaming and the notion that she was not only getting her hands wet, but that she was pumping the soap dispenser like a bona fide pro. She proceeded to explain to me that the faucets had been replaced so now she didn’t have to keep turning them on. Once again “Mom” was patiently standing there waiting for this washing ritual to be finished….but only after her daughter dried her hands HERSELF.


This got me thinking about all of the times children demand that they do something without assistance…it is part of growing up. The problem with it is that while they are adamant about going it alone they truly need our guidance and help. And then, as luck would have it, the little darlings do grow up and are, in fact, independent…they can make their own bed, brush their own teeth, clean their own room, and do their own homework….ironically this is when they scream, “MOM!!! I NEED YOUR HELP!!!”

Floored

Just the other day I had some time to spare between getting off work and picking up my daughter after school.  I drove on over to the nearest gas station to grab some drinks for the ride home, and after parking the car I flung open my door and then leaned over to the passenger's seat to grab my purse.  As I was doing so my heavy door started to swing shut.  I stopped it with my foot and thrust it back open (as it takes me a ridiculously long amount of time to gain enough leverage to heft my ridiculously heavy purse up and over to my shoulder--while in the sitting position).  Once again the door would not remain open and swung back with a vengenance resulting in yet another kick from me.  When I finally emerged from my car I saw that a man in a truck was patiently waiting to pull in to the spot next to me.  He was pointing and his mouth was moving in an animated fashion.  Uh-oh.  Immediately I was convicted of being one of "those people" who I point and mouth at...you know...the ones who take FOREVER to get out of their car, turn the corner, or back out of a parking space.  The odd thing was that this man was smiling.  I felt compelled to walk over to him ignoring all the internal voices shouting "stranger danger" to me. 

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" I immediatly began to plead.  But the gentleman (yes, now he is a gentleman) politely laughed and told me he thought I was his friend "Jerry" who drives the same kind of car that I do.  He thought Jerry was just messing with him on purpose--ha.  I then went on to tell him that I thought he may be pointing to my open gas tank or a possible flat tire.  Fortunately neither of these things occurred and as he and I walked toward the station's front doors he told me "Life is too short to be in a hurry." 

Relieved that our encounter was a pleasant one I paid for my bottled waters and rushed back out to my car (life may be too short to be in a hurry but when the school bell rings and the parent line backs up and you have to pick up two children at two different schools at the same exact time...well...life's too rushed to slow down sometimes).  In my haste I quickly clicked the unlock button on my key fob and flopped into the driver's seat.  As my purse was being flung up and over to the passenger seat I could not believe what I was seeing...someone had stolen my floor mats!  (take a look at the above picture and you'll understand that I wasn't so surprised that I was a victim as I was stunned at the fact that someone would want my country-fied floor mats---caked with caliche, chicken schtuff, and who knows what else).  And then the eyes of clarity descended on the fact that not only were my floor mats stolen...but so was all of the trash that thrives in my car!  The used tissues, the crumpled papers, the permission slips, the broken pencils, the empty water bottles, the hair brushes.....all of it....GONE!  Instantly I was shocked that my car could look so clean...and then I began to register the smell of the car....something wasn't right....OMG!  I WAS SITTING IN SOMEONE ELSE'S CAR!!!!!  I felt like I had landed in the Goldilocks and the Three Bears story...."....and she's STILL HERE!"  My mind started going into overdrive as I began recalling the fact that there were two policemen inside the station...my biggest fear, being wrongly convicted, was getting ready to happen...any minute the car's owner would see me sitting in the driver's seat and yell to the two cops, "SHE'S STEALING MY CAR!!!  AFTER HER!!!"  I grabbed my purse like it was a tiny clutch weighing next to nothing (suppose it must have been the adrenaline) and the mother side of my brain scolded the owner of the vehicle for not locking his doors.  I ran two or three cars over and jumped into my car.  I was relieved to see that all of my trash was intact and that, yes, my dirty floor mats were still there waiting for my return.  I made my getaway without so much as a police chase and I am now living under an assumed name in an undisclosed location.

I'm fine....really.....FINE!

Salmon have NOTHING on me...the whole swimming upstream excuse....in the words of the world's teenagers....WHATEVER!!  Unlike the salmon I don't have the benefit of a refreshing swim...shoot...I don't have the time to bathe anymore...and when I do have time...well...hygenie is nowhere near the top of my to-do list.  I have been away from this blog for way too long and was all geared up to post with avid frequency (this is where the upstream analogy comes into play).  The evil technological forces were doing everything in their powers to prevent such a thing as moi wanting to write to you.  Long and drawn out story short:  I finally found my leotard, tights, and flowing cape and confronted the dark side.  Good won out as it has proven to do time after time (after long time) and here I am!  All of this just to say that it feels so good to be able to finally tell you that within the course of one week I have acquired enough stories to make up for lost time.  School is officially out for the summer for my little chicks, I have one more week left of work, and I have taken care of my son's brood for a couple of days without so much as trailing poop back into the house....now that's skill people!