the story of kids,chaos, mothering challenges and sometimes chocolate
Saturday, August 31, 2013
it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: the difference between girls and boys
it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: the difference between girls and boys: School supply shopping with Adeline is like getting a root canal, only more painful. We HAD to shop at Target, that was they only store on ...
the difference between girls and boys
School supply shopping with Adeline is like getting a root canal, only more painful. We HAD to shop at Target, that was they only store on her list.
We entered the school supply zone and my daughter turned into a creature. She decided she needed an emerald greenish notebook because it matched her new tennis shoes.
And the search began. She should have been on the team to find Osama. She searched and searched and searched for the 2 inch notebook that matched her tennis shoes. Ridiculous.
I went into the Lawn and Garden section and got a chair and sat in the aisle. Next, she had to find folders to match the notebook. Forty minutes. It took forty minutes. She went through every sleeve of folders that they had. She found them.
Erasers to match. Pens. Post in notes. The works. It had to match the notebook, that matched the shoes, that all belonged to Adeline. It was like a song.
The boys shopped for school supplies at Wal-Mart. They were in, out and in the car in less than 12 minutes. They had no idea what the bought except for the mechanical pencils.
When I dropped off the button last week, he had a suitcase, a storage container and some Wal-Mart bag. I sent him with towels from home, old frying pans, he took coffee cups out of the cupboard, my sister-in-law gave him some things from her kitchen and it was a wrap.
He was unpacked and set up in fifteen minutes tops.
I watched parents, who had matching T shirts printed that said "TEAM ALLYSA" make 45 trips to the u-haul. There were matching shower curtains, rugs, monogrammed towels, mirrors, wreaths for the door, pictures, matching bedroom ensembles, mirrors again, rugs, accent pillows, curtains and bean bags, matching dishes, glasses, cups, rugs and table cloths, a box of "holiday decorations" and curtains for the living area and and welcome mat.
Allysa also had a two sets of clothes, cold and hot. I know this because I watched. It was marked on the wadrobe boxes. I watched. Closely.
And Allysa's mother rearranged the furniture in all the rooms. I watched. Amazed. She said that "she layed awake at night thinking about the best arrangement."
Addie came home from her first day of school. She told me EVERY detail including every fifth grader and what class they were in. She told me what everybody wore and what every teacher wore and who had the best bulletin board. I am a sucker for bulletin boards.
Walker said, " lunch is fabulous. I sat with...." That was it. Nothing else.
The "button' has revealed this, "I had a chicken wrap with double fries on Tuesday, Cheese burger on Wednesday and I like it. Yes, roommates are fine."
That is it. Gets to college and I get a menu update. Oh, I forgot that he had Manwich on Sunday night with ground turkey.
Tonight, after the first big week of school for all three, the eldest didn't return the a text, the middle child could only muster "what is for dinner and when are we eating" and the daughter said, "I smell. I need to shower."
When I asked for more details about Walker's week, he replied, "the chicken nuggets are to die for."
"What about your teachers?"
"good."
I didn't aske Addie anymore about her week, I was too busy getting dinner ready for Walker.
We entered the school supply zone and my daughter turned into a creature. She decided she needed an emerald greenish notebook because it matched her new tennis shoes.
And the search began. She should have been on the team to find Osama. She searched and searched and searched for the 2 inch notebook that matched her tennis shoes. Ridiculous.
I went into the Lawn and Garden section and got a chair and sat in the aisle. Next, she had to find folders to match the notebook. Forty minutes. It took forty minutes. She went through every sleeve of folders that they had. She found them.
Erasers to match. Pens. Post in notes. The works. It had to match the notebook, that matched the shoes, that all belonged to Adeline. It was like a song.
The boys shopped for school supplies at Wal-Mart. They were in, out and in the car in less than 12 minutes. They had no idea what the bought except for the mechanical pencils.
When I dropped off the button last week, he had a suitcase, a storage container and some Wal-Mart bag. I sent him with towels from home, old frying pans, he took coffee cups out of the cupboard, my sister-in-law gave him some things from her kitchen and it was a wrap.
He was unpacked and set up in fifteen minutes tops.
I watched parents, who had matching T shirts printed that said "TEAM ALLYSA" make 45 trips to the u-haul. There were matching shower curtains, rugs, monogrammed towels, mirrors, wreaths for the door, pictures, matching bedroom ensembles, mirrors again, rugs, accent pillows, curtains and bean bags, matching dishes, glasses, cups, rugs and table cloths, a box of "holiday decorations" and curtains for the living area and and welcome mat.
Allysa also had a two sets of clothes, cold and hot. I know this because I watched. It was marked on the wadrobe boxes. I watched. Closely.
And Allysa's mother rearranged the furniture in all the rooms. I watched. Amazed. She said that "she layed awake at night thinking about the best arrangement."
Addie came home from her first day of school. She told me EVERY detail including every fifth grader and what class they were in. She told me what everybody wore and what every teacher wore and who had the best bulletin board. I am a sucker for bulletin boards.
Walker said, " lunch is fabulous. I sat with...." That was it. Nothing else.
The "button' has revealed this, "I had a chicken wrap with double fries on Tuesday, Cheese burger on Wednesday and I like it. Yes, roommates are fine."
That is it. Gets to college and I get a menu update. Oh, I forgot that he had Manwich on Sunday night with ground turkey.
Tonight, after the first big week of school for all three, the eldest didn't return the a text, the middle child could only muster "what is for dinner and when are we eating" and the daughter said, "I smell. I need to shower."
When I asked for more details about Walker's week, he replied, "the chicken nuggets are to die for."
"What about your teachers?"
"good."
I didn't aske Addie anymore about her week, I was too busy getting dinner ready for Walker.
Monday, August 26, 2013
it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: The Drop off
it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: The Drop off: Thursday, after Addie's open house, we were Jamestown or bust. Me and the three kids. First stop, Southern Maryland so I could drop t...
The Drop off
Thursday, after Addie's open house, we were Jamestown or bust. Me and the three kids.
First stop, Southern Maryland so I could drop the younger two at my brother's.
First off all, what is very significant about this trip, is how far I have come. I let the "button" drive the ENTIRE way and I only said, "slow down", "break up with the gas pedal" or "make the brake your friend" about 150 times, EACH. I also did not take any type of sedative. If offered, I would have considered.
Anyway, after one sleep in Maryland, the "button" and I were on our way. A gas stop where I met my bff who "hooked a guy up" and we continued north.
Originally, I was going to take the other two kids with me. I wanted them to "see it to believe it" and to quite frankly, "start the process now." But, my kids feel like my brother's house is the redneck version of Disney World so I wanted them to have a last hurrah before school started. I am glad I changed my mind.
It was just the two of us. Driving north.
Years ago, when I still lived in Pennsylvania, I spend massive amounts of time traveling through the state of Pennsylvania. Later, I worked for Coca Cola and still traveled all through the state of Pennsylvania and parts of New York. As we drove by exits and towns that I had visited or traveled, it was so weird, everything was coming full circle. I felt like Kevin Beacon was my cousin.
And there were chats. Chats about the past, chats about the future, what to do, what not to do, what girls hate, what girls like...oh, and girls REALLY hate when you refer to them as "dudes". There was they "if I would have gone with my gut this would have happened and then this wouldn't have happened" chat. If its and buts were candy and nuts, we would all have a Merry Christmas. There was use your advisor and the story of my HUGE crush on my Advisor, Frank Kearns.
And there were jitters. "What if I don't make it, what if I get lost, what if I don't wrestle well, what if I flunk out, what if the world comes to an end...." All the what ifs.
We crossed into New York and the panic set in. It was all right there on that suntanned face of his. Jamestown, this exit.
While the excitement level was at an all time high, so was the anxiety. And so was the curiosity.
We "blind dated" college.
We pulled into Jamestown. Lucille Ball is from Jamestown, New York. If you didn't know that, you figure it out in about sixty seconds. I Love Lucy is everywhere and done well, right under the cobblestones, the Victorian mansions, the brick houses and hills, right down from Lake Chautauqua. Lovely, Lovely, Lovely. A Disney movie setting.
We found the campus and got out. What we didn't realize is what we saw was the back of all the buildings, you need to go into the circle to get the full effect and feel inside.
Well done. Clean, new, crisp and friendly. Wow, pleasantly surprised. The gym was incredible and the student union had a coffee bar, gaming room, a cafeteria with bistro tables, and a lovely lounge.
We stumbled into the housing director and she took us up to the his residence. Apartments on a hill, walking distance from the campus. These were like apartments and NOT like and dorm or apartment that I ever lived.
A dinner, the standard trip to Wally World and we were in bed.
I woke up bright and early on Saturday. I asked, "how did you sleep?"
"Not well, it is like Christmas Eve. I am too excited mom."
And we were off. Amongst the other kids, he looked as scared and nervous as they did. His eyes were big and wondering. I asked him, "are you okay?"
"No mom, I am overwhelmed."
"Eat the elephant one bite at a time."
"I don't know where the elephant is."
I have so been there.
We got all the stuff done and it was move in time.
The wrestling coach arrived to meet him and I just unpacked Walmart bags. I put dinner in the oven for him and the suite mates and I said, "I have just done the last maternal thing for you that I am going to do for awhile."
And he walked me to the car. I had a bounce in my step.
Of course he hugged me.
And I said, "this is where the bird leaves the nest. There, I pushed you out. Go forth, conquer, learn, succeed, fail and grow. I love you. You are worthy of this opportunity now go and live your life."
He grinned and thanked me again. And off he went.
Yes, I cried, a little, not the sobbing that some of the moms were doing.
And trust me, I didn't cry because I was leaving and he was staying. I cried because it was that moment, regardless of the size of your child, it is that moment, where things as they are, will never be the same. And I have been there before, only this time it was a positive. And because it took a village to get him here. Lots of love went into this drop off from many people. And hope.
Any parent who has dropped off a kid, knows the love, the sacrifice and the anxiety and the excitment.
Look, I don't think for a minute that this package is wrapped and delivered. I asked for a semester. Just one. Try it. Failure is in not trying. Try it for one semester. He did.
Small steps. Small steps going forward. Small steps going forward will certainly yield greater steps than small steps going backward.
I drove off. I didn't unpack his suitcase, just the Wal-Mart stuff. I drove off. I didn't listen to the radio, talk on the phone nothing for about 200 hundred miles. My mind and heart were all over the place. Not like the crazy worry all over the place, it was more like, "peace." Where we went and how we got to today.
Just heartfelt peace. I would not accept that I had a kid in summer camp. And now I had a kid in college. And when I say I, I mean us. Franklin too.
And every text that I have gotten since said those magic words, "thanks mom, love you."
Worth the price of admission every time. To any mom.
First stop, Southern Maryland so I could drop the younger two at my brother's.
First off all, what is very significant about this trip, is how far I have come. I let the "button" drive the ENTIRE way and I only said, "slow down", "break up with the gas pedal" or "make the brake your friend" about 150 times, EACH. I also did not take any type of sedative. If offered, I would have considered.
Anyway, after one sleep in Maryland, the "button" and I were on our way. A gas stop where I met my bff who "hooked a guy up" and we continued north.
Originally, I was going to take the other two kids with me. I wanted them to "see it to believe it" and to quite frankly, "start the process now." But, my kids feel like my brother's house is the redneck version of Disney World so I wanted them to have a last hurrah before school started. I am glad I changed my mind.
It was just the two of us. Driving north.
Years ago, when I still lived in Pennsylvania, I spend massive amounts of time traveling through the state of Pennsylvania. Later, I worked for Coca Cola and still traveled all through the state of Pennsylvania and parts of New York. As we drove by exits and towns that I had visited or traveled, it was so weird, everything was coming full circle. I felt like Kevin Beacon was my cousin.
And there were chats. Chats about the past, chats about the future, what to do, what not to do, what girls hate, what girls like...oh, and girls REALLY hate when you refer to them as "dudes". There was they "if I would have gone with my gut this would have happened and then this wouldn't have happened" chat. If its and buts were candy and nuts, we would all have a Merry Christmas. There was use your advisor and the story of my HUGE crush on my Advisor, Frank Kearns.
And there were jitters. "What if I don't make it, what if I get lost, what if I don't wrestle well, what if I flunk out, what if the world comes to an end...." All the what ifs.
We crossed into New York and the panic set in. It was all right there on that suntanned face of his. Jamestown, this exit.
While the excitement level was at an all time high, so was the anxiety. And so was the curiosity.
We "blind dated" college.
We pulled into Jamestown. Lucille Ball is from Jamestown, New York. If you didn't know that, you figure it out in about sixty seconds. I Love Lucy is everywhere and done well, right under the cobblestones, the Victorian mansions, the brick houses and hills, right down from Lake Chautauqua. Lovely, Lovely, Lovely. A Disney movie setting.
We found the campus and got out. What we didn't realize is what we saw was the back of all the buildings, you need to go into the circle to get the full effect and feel inside.
Well done. Clean, new, crisp and friendly. Wow, pleasantly surprised. The gym was incredible and the student union had a coffee bar, gaming room, a cafeteria with bistro tables, and a lovely lounge.
We stumbled into the housing director and she took us up to the his residence. Apartments on a hill, walking distance from the campus. These were like apartments and NOT like and dorm or apartment that I ever lived.
A dinner, the standard trip to Wally World and we were in bed.
I woke up bright and early on Saturday. I asked, "how did you sleep?"
"Not well, it is like Christmas Eve. I am too excited mom."
And we were off. Amongst the other kids, he looked as scared and nervous as they did. His eyes were big and wondering. I asked him, "are you okay?"
"No mom, I am overwhelmed."
"Eat the elephant one bite at a time."
"I don't know where the elephant is."
I have so been there.
We got all the stuff done and it was move in time.
The wrestling coach arrived to meet him and I just unpacked Walmart bags. I put dinner in the oven for him and the suite mates and I said, "I have just done the last maternal thing for you that I am going to do for awhile."
And he walked me to the car. I had a bounce in my step.
Of course he hugged me.
And I said, "this is where the bird leaves the nest. There, I pushed you out. Go forth, conquer, learn, succeed, fail and grow. I love you. You are worthy of this opportunity now go and live your life."
He grinned and thanked me again. And off he went.
Yes, I cried, a little, not the sobbing that some of the moms were doing.
And trust me, I didn't cry because I was leaving and he was staying. I cried because it was that moment, regardless of the size of your child, it is that moment, where things as they are, will never be the same. And I have been there before, only this time it was a positive. And because it took a village to get him here. Lots of love went into this drop off from many people. And hope.
Any parent who has dropped off a kid, knows the love, the sacrifice and the anxiety and the excitment.
Look, I don't think for a minute that this package is wrapped and delivered. I asked for a semester. Just one. Try it. Failure is in not trying. Try it for one semester. He did.
Small steps. Small steps going forward. Small steps going forward will certainly yield greater steps than small steps going backward.
I drove off. I didn't unpack his suitcase, just the Wal-Mart stuff. I drove off. I didn't listen to the radio, talk on the phone nothing for about 200 hundred miles. My mind and heart were all over the place. Not like the crazy worry all over the place, it was more like, "peace." Where we went and how we got to today.
Just heartfelt peace. I would not accept that I had a kid in summer camp. And now I had a kid in college. And when I say I, I mean us. Franklin too.
And every text that I have gotten since said those magic words, "thanks mom, love you."
Worth the price of admission every time. To any mom.
Thursday, August 22, 2013
it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: 24 HOURS
it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: 24 HOURS: Not since Addie's birth day, have 24 hours been so important. Let's see...to kick off the 24 hours, I took Walker to middle school...
24 HOURS
Not since Addie's birth day, have 24 hours been so important.
Let's see...to kick off the 24 hours, I took Walker to middle school open house. No words.
Where has the time gone? He walked in with the girl I want him to marry. She was all eyes and composed. He was bored. Typical boy. He was only worried about the lunch table where you can put money on your lunch account.
In fact, when the principal said she was "passing the microphone", he whispered, "you should turn the mic off."
He waved to his friend, Miss Mary, with her "wrapped head" in the stands. She looked awesome. She was looking around as well and I was watching her knowing that she was thinking the same thing.
I looked around at other moms and kids that I had known since they were little and wondered how we got here. Seriously, where had the time gone? Wasn't I just standing here with the button? Wasn't Walker just a little guy?
And we left, off to the elementary school to pick up the "button" who was spreading mulch in the courtyard for me, in exchange for a pizza. Fair deal.
We all got home simultaneously and it began. Car needed washed, about fifteen loads of laundry needed washed and folded, suitcases needed packed, papers and documents need loaded, it was a sprint not a marathon.
Tomorrow, the "button" leaves for college. Never, did I ever think this day would come. Most days, I didn't even think it would be possible.
Since his return in June, there have been highs and lows. Some very positive highs and some dreadful lows. There has been the even day, "I am not going to school, I am going out on my own." There have been moments when the "old" me returns and I lose it. There have been moments when the demons have returned.
Relapse is always part of recovery. This time, he stayed and worked through the recovery.
And handcuffs were not involved.
Old behaviors did resurface but they did not take over. And he muddled through. Franklin and I sat on the back porch a lot and shook our heads. And then when we were just about to give up...an old man in a truck got through.
While I wasn't there, the story goes something like this, the "button" tells the old man that he worked with, "I am not going to school, and I cannot live with my parents anymore."
The old man in the truck abruptly pulls his truck over and the button thinks they have a flat tire. Instead, the old man slams on the breaks and smacks the button in the head and says,
"you are a dumb ass. you live for ten months in summer camp and you cannot make it six weeks with your folks? Are you just a dumb ass? Listen here kid, if you apply for a job and the only thing they ask you is, "can you show up on time everyday?...you are not going to get rich."
All the time, all the conversations, all the therapy, all the advice...nothing. But an old man in a pick up truck smacks my kid and calls him a "dumb ass, and we get clarity. Ok, I will take it.
My mom says that kids take your money, your furniture, your food, your time and your energy but they never take your free advice. And you are so busy raising these kids, you don't know where the time goes.
How true.
And so, after about 10 weeks, there is a future in sight for the button.
Tomorrow, we attend the last open house at the elementary school as Addie will be a fifth grader. And as soon as we see the teacher and the classroom, we are going to bolt. Bolt, just like the last five years.
New York or bust baby. We are on a mission.
WE have been on a mission. I cannot wait for these next 24 hours.
Let's see...to kick off the 24 hours, I took Walker to middle school open house. No words.
Where has the time gone? He walked in with the girl I want him to marry. She was all eyes and composed. He was bored. Typical boy. He was only worried about the lunch table where you can put money on your lunch account.In fact, when the principal said she was "passing the microphone", he whispered, "you should turn the mic off."
He waved to his friend, Miss Mary, with her "wrapped head" in the stands. She looked awesome. She was looking around as well and I was watching her knowing that she was thinking the same thing.
I looked around at other moms and kids that I had known since they were little and wondered how we got here. Seriously, where had the time gone? Wasn't I just standing here with the button? Wasn't Walker just a little guy?
And we left, off to the elementary school to pick up the "button" who was spreading mulch in the courtyard for me, in exchange for a pizza. Fair deal.
We all got home simultaneously and it began. Car needed washed, about fifteen loads of laundry needed washed and folded, suitcases needed packed, papers and documents need loaded, it was a sprint not a marathon.
Tomorrow, the "button" leaves for college. Never, did I ever think this day would come. Most days, I didn't even think it would be possible.
Since his return in June, there have been highs and lows. Some very positive highs and some dreadful lows. There has been the even day, "I am not going to school, I am going out on my own." There have been moments when the "old" me returns and I lose it. There have been moments when the demons have returned.
Relapse is always part of recovery. This time, he stayed and worked through the recovery.
And handcuffs were not involved.
Old behaviors did resurface but they did not take over. And he muddled through. Franklin and I sat on the back porch a lot and shook our heads. And then when we were just about to give up...an old man in a truck got through.
While I wasn't there, the story goes something like this, the "button" tells the old man that he worked with, "I am not going to school, and I cannot live with my parents anymore."
The old man in the truck abruptly pulls his truck over and the button thinks they have a flat tire. Instead, the old man slams on the breaks and smacks the button in the head and says,
"you are a dumb ass. you live for ten months in summer camp and you cannot make it six weeks with your folks? Are you just a dumb ass? Listen here kid, if you apply for a job and the only thing they ask you is, "can you show up on time everyday?...you are not going to get rich."
All the time, all the conversations, all the therapy, all the advice...nothing. But an old man in a pick up truck smacks my kid and calls him a "dumb ass, and we get clarity. Ok, I will take it.
My mom says that kids take your money, your furniture, your food, your time and your energy but they never take your free advice. And you are so busy raising these kids, you don't know where the time goes.
How true.
And so, after about 10 weeks, there is a future in sight for the button.
Tomorrow, we attend the last open house at the elementary school as Addie will be a fifth grader. And as soon as we see the teacher and the classroom, we are going to bolt. Bolt, just like the last five years.
New York or bust baby. We are on a mission.
WE have been on a mission. I cannot wait for these next 24 hours.
Thursday, August 15, 2013
it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: COACH
it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: COACH: My daughter is 10. I am still wearing my maternity underwear from when I was pregnant with her. I had my kids later in life. Translation...
COACH
My daughter is 10. I am still wearing my maternity underwear from when I was pregnant with her.
I had my kids later in life. Translation, after the sports car, the trips to islands, Paris, South of France, Switzerland, the Ann Taylor Loft Wardrobe and the personal trainer. I lived. And I lived well.
And then came the kids. Instead of salon appointments, I bought Nice n Easy. I parted ways with Ann Taylor and fell in love with Batman. I shopped at Target for my self and my daughter's American Girl Doll dresses cost more than my work outfits.
After horse riding boots, britches, wrestling shoes, singlets, Boy Scout everything, dance costumes, guitars and lessons, band and instruments, there simply was nothing left for me and if there was extra money, I was too tired to go shopping and spend it.
Last summer, my friend Kelly came to beach week. She brought her usual accomplice from Chicago and a new friend, Robin. Robin, I loved immediately. She is a former West Virginia girl and has three kids and always has a smile.
After their week at the beach, where my family takes advantage of their opulence, the "button" went bizerk. The very night they left the beach, he left our home and we all know how that worked out.
They knew I was applying for my new job and I was excited and REALLY wanted the new job.
And despite promises to keep in touch, it got harder to do so. You get absorbed in your lives and your kids and a year passes like lightning.
And 365 days later, they were back.
I was late joining them this year. I had been to Pennsylvania for a funeral. On the way to the funeral, I stopped at the outlets in Gettysburg. Back to School shopping.
I made sure that each child had something for me to take home to them and before I left the outlets and then I walked into the COACH store.
Immediately, my nose danced, the smell of real leather. The white background with the lovely pieces of arm candy, the COACH purses. I gazed and gazed and gazed. One caught my eye, and I picked it up. What a work of art. Oh my, the lining. I loved the lining.
And without even looking at the price tag, I put it back. I couldn't justify it. I had three pairs of feet to take care of yet and unless the elves visited the shoemaker, I needed to make sure my three kids had new shoes.
I walked out. Damn, I wanted the purse.
But, I am a mom.
But I work and I work hard, damn it.
By the time it would be time for ME again, it would be the room with the view at the nursing home.
But, instead of a COACH purse , I had three healthy kids and some killer stories for the nursing home. A fair trade off.
As I was driving, I was thinking about the last year. Last year after my friends left, my hopes fell to the floor and we started hell again with the button. I did get the job and love it. Media sales is hard and I made it to the "one year" mark. Here we are, one year later, I am going to do well with my job, the button is most likely going to make it and things were great.
After I got home from the funeral, I could not wait to put the sadness of the past couple days in the rear view and head to the beach house with my girl friends (and once again suck off their opulence). Awesome. And of course we all apologized for not doing as well as wanted to keeping up with one another.
And then, after a few glasses of wine on the back porch, they brought me a present, to say congrats on the new job. It came in a big red bag, with lovely white tissue paper, a big red box inside, wrapped with real white ribbon and then, the white satin bag. I opened the white satin bag and started to cry. I am such a sucker for a presentation.
A COACH purse. A lovely, wonderful smelling COACH purse. OMG. Lovely.
The arm candy. And it wasn't JUST the purse to me. It was so much more.
It was about where I had been, just one year ago, where I was going, the fact that three moms got that sometimes mom doesn't come first, friends and "I am just an embryo, with a long long way to go...."and frienship and celebrating.
I love my purse. I love the lining. I love the bag, the ribbon and the box it came in. I love what it represents. I love the girls who gave it to me. I carry it with pride. All the things I did without, it was so worth it.
I guess I need to toss those maternity underwear now.
I had my kids later in life. Translation, after the sports car, the trips to islands, Paris, South of France, Switzerland, the Ann Taylor Loft Wardrobe and the personal trainer. I lived. And I lived well.
And then came the kids. Instead of salon appointments, I bought Nice n Easy. I parted ways with Ann Taylor and fell in love with Batman. I shopped at Target for my self and my daughter's American Girl Doll dresses cost more than my work outfits.
After horse riding boots, britches, wrestling shoes, singlets, Boy Scout everything, dance costumes, guitars and lessons, band and instruments, there simply was nothing left for me and if there was extra money, I was too tired to go shopping and spend it.
Last summer, my friend Kelly came to beach week. She brought her usual accomplice from Chicago and a new friend, Robin. Robin, I loved immediately. She is a former West Virginia girl and has three kids and always has a smile.
After their week at the beach, where my family takes advantage of their opulence, the "button" went bizerk. The very night they left the beach, he left our home and we all know how that worked out.
They knew I was applying for my new job and I was excited and REALLY wanted the new job.
And despite promises to keep in touch, it got harder to do so. You get absorbed in your lives and your kids and a year passes like lightning.
And 365 days later, they were back.
I was late joining them this year. I had been to Pennsylvania for a funeral. On the way to the funeral, I stopped at the outlets in Gettysburg. Back to School shopping.
I made sure that each child had something for me to take home to them and before I left the outlets and then I walked into the COACH store.
Immediately, my nose danced, the smell of real leather. The white background with the lovely pieces of arm candy, the COACH purses. I gazed and gazed and gazed. One caught my eye, and I picked it up. What a work of art. Oh my, the lining. I loved the lining.
And without even looking at the price tag, I put it back. I couldn't justify it. I had three pairs of feet to take care of yet and unless the elves visited the shoemaker, I needed to make sure my three kids had new shoes.
I walked out. Damn, I wanted the purse.
But, I am a mom.
But I work and I work hard, damn it.
By the time it would be time for ME again, it would be the room with the view at the nursing home.
But, instead of a COACH purse , I had three healthy kids and some killer stories for the nursing home. A fair trade off.
As I was driving, I was thinking about the last year. Last year after my friends left, my hopes fell to the floor and we started hell again with the button. I did get the job and love it. Media sales is hard and I made it to the "one year" mark. Here we are, one year later, I am going to do well with my job, the button is most likely going to make it and things were great.
After I got home from the funeral, I could not wait to put the sadness of the past couple days in the rear view and head to the beach house with my girl friends (and once again suck off their opulence). Awesome. And of course we all apologized for not doing as well as wanted to keeping up with one another.
And then, after a few glasses of wine on the back porch, they brought me a present, to say congrats on the new job. It came in a big red bag, with lovely white tissue paper, a big red box inside, wrapped with real white ribbon and then, the white satin bag. I opened the white satin bag and started to cry. I am such a sucker for a presentation.
The arm candy. And it wasn't JUST the purse to me. It was so much more.
It was about where I had been, just one year ago, where I was going, the fact that three moms got that sometimes mom doesn't come first, friends and "I am just an embryo, with a long long way to go...."and frienship and celebrating.
I love my purse. I love the lining. I love the bag, the ribbon and the box it came in. I love what it represents. I love the girls who gave it to me. I carry it with pride. All the things I did without, it was so worth it.
I guess I need to toss those maternity underwear now.
Monday, August 5, 2013
it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: The perfect recipe for Sand Castle Cake and Frien...
it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: The perfect recipe for Sand Castle Cake and Frien...: A few weeks ago, on the back porch, my next door neighbor confessed that she was hosting two back-to-back bridal showers. These just weren&...
The perfect recipe for Sand Castle Cake and Friendship.
A few weeks ago, on the back porch, my next door neighbor confessed that she was hosting two back-to-back bridal showers. These just weren't any bridal showers, they were VERY important bridal showers. She, because of the brides-to-be, wanted everything to be just perfect.
And, as only she can do, she roped our other neighbor and me into helping her host the PERFECT bridal shower.
Game on. We are up for the challenge.
My job, to bake the perfect bridal shower cake.
Not a problem. Years ago, I made one of the best investments of my life (my husband just gagged). I bought a Williams Sonoma Sand Castle Cake mold. Perfect for pound cake. Walker's favorite. Awesome looking cake mold. Perfect when you live at the beach.
I was excited. I bought some cute embellishments to add and it was going to be perfect for the bride to be and her shower.
In the meantime, my other girl friend calls me and asked if I could help her clean some beach houses on the same day as the shower. Yes, I have this cake thing down.
Friday night comes and I bake the cake. My thought process, bake the cake Friday night, keep it in the mold, get up Saturday morning, take it out, decorate, go clean beach houses, come home, take the cake over, perfect and punctual.
Saturday morning, I get up, drink a cup of coffee, and turn my cake mold over. Again and again and again. No movement. Then, I grab a paring knife, cut away at the edges, dump, nothing. This goes on for 45 minutes. NEVER has the EVER happened.
Panic sets in. I call my other neighbor, who I know is up, it is early, 7:15am, and say"get up here, I need help. The damn cake will not come out of the mold."
Franklin gets up, sees the sweat on my brow, picks up the mold, slams it on the counter and it comes out. Boy, did it come out.
Mo, my hero, comes in and sees it. OMG. That is pretty much all that we said. OMG.
Mo grabs the mold, the wafers, the almond extract, the cake plate, the embellishments and says, "you go to work, I got this."
And before she leaves, we sit my daughter down and do what ever mother does, we tell my daughter to lie if Rhonda comes over. Yep, that's right, we said, "don't tell Rhonda, don't stress her out, tell her I hid the cake, it is done." Mother of the year, teach your kid to lie.
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Off I go to work. Mo texts me hourly with the status of the cake.
In the meantime, the fudge maker makes one batch of fudge, it doesn't turn out, makes another and then I am not sure what happened next. I just know there was fudge.
Finally, the text with the finished product comes across my phone. Cake is done and lovely.
I run home, grab the cake that has been placed on my counter by the shower cake baking fairy and run it over to the shower thrower.
Ahhhh.
Then, a few hours later, I go over to the shower. There sits the bride-to-be and the cake fairy. The bride-to-be says, "I loved my cake" and I couldn't sit there. The cake fairy is sitting there smiling. And, the shower thrower was happy.
There are so many ingredients to this story....
Screw that Amish Friendship bread, this Sand Castle Cake was all about friendship.
Women "get" one another. We "get" the desire to do something nice for fellow women. We get that when the recipe or the best plans don't work, we can get it done. We understand that sometime a lie isn't really a lie if you are preventing a shower thrower from throwing herself into a crazy tizz.
I have been SO blessed with a circle of GREAT friends. Think about, I call a woman at 7:15 am on a Saturday, throw this cake at her and she handles it and smiles while the bride says thank you to me. Wow. This is the story of Friendship.
And, as only she can do, she roped our other neighbor and me into helping her host the PERFECT bridal shower.
Game on. We are up for the challenge.
My job, to bake the perfect bridal shower cake.
Not a problem. Years ago, I made one of the best investments of my life (my husband just gagged). I bought a Williams Sonoma Sand Castle Cake mold. Perfect for pound cake. Walker's favorite. Awesome looking cake mold. Perfect when you live at the beach.
I was excited. I bought some cute embellishments to add and it was going to be perfect for the bride to be and her shower.
In the meantime, my other girl friend calls me and asked if I could help her clean some beach houses on the same day as the shower. Yes, I have this cake thing down.
Friday night comes and I bake the cake. My thought process, bake the cake Friday night, keep it in the mold, get up Saturday morning, take it out, decorate, go clean beach houses, come home, take the cake over, perfect and punctual.
Saturday morning, I get up, drink a cup of coffee, and turn my cake mold over. Again and again and again. No movement. Then, I grab a paring knife, cut away at the edges, dump, nothing. This goes on for 45 minutes. NEVER has the EVER happened.
Panic sets in. I call my other neighbor, who I know is up, it is early, 7:15am, and say"get up here, I need help. The damn cake will not come out of the mold."
Franklin gets up, sees the sweat on my brow, picks up the mold, slams it on the counter and it comes out. Boy, did it come out.
Mo, my hero, comes in and sees it. OMG. That is pretty much all that we said. OMG.
Mo grabs the mold, the wafers, the almond extract, the cake plate, the embellishments and says, "you go to work, I got this."And before she leaves, we sit my daughter down and do what ever mother does, we tell my daughter to lie if Rhonda comes over. Yep, that's right, we said, "don't tell Rhonda, don't stress her out, tell her I hid the cake, it is done." Mother of the year, teach your kid to lie.
Off I go to work. Mo texts me hourly with the status of the cake.
In the meantime, the fudge maker makes one batch of fudge, it doesn't turn out, makes another and then I am not sure what happened next. I just know there was fudge.
Finally, the text with the finished product comes across my phone. Cake is done and lovely.
I run home, grab the cake that has been placed on my counter by the shower cake baking fairy and run it over to the shower thrower.
Ahhhh.
Then, a few hours later, I go over to the shower. There sits the bride-to-be and the cake fairy. The bride-to-be says, "I loved my cake" and I couldn't sit there. The cake fairy is sitting there smiling. And, the shower thrower was happy.
There are so many ingredients to this story....
Screw that Amish Friendship bread, this Sand Castle Cake was all about friendship.
Women "get" one another. We "get" the desire to do something nice for fellow women. We get that when the recipe or the best plans don't work, we can get it done. We understand that sometime a lie isn't really a lie if you are preventing a shower thrower from throwing herself into a crazy tizz.
I have been SO blessed with a circle of GREAT friends. Think about, I call a woman at 7:15 am on a Saturday, throw this cake at her and she handles it and smiles while the bride says thank you to me. Wow. This is the story of Friendship.
Friday, August 2, 2013
it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: babysitting
it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: babysitting: Tonight, Addie asked me if I knew how she could make some extra money. I told her that she needed to babysit. "Babysit?" &qu...
babysitting
Tonight, Addie asked me if I knew how she could make some extra money. I told her that she needed to babysit.
"Babysit?"
"Yep, you would be good at it, it is fun and you will make a ton of money."
"How is babysitting fun?"
I was the mac daddy of babysitters when I was a teen. Not only was I fun, I showed up and didn't cancel.
I had one family that was super easy, paid well, always had TAB and let me bring my friend.
Two little girls that went to bed by seven, eight at the latest and it was a piece of cake.
One particular winter night, the girls and I feel asleep watching television in the parents bed. Not just asleep, but, deep asleep. So asleep that when they returned home, I didn't wake up. Not for anything. Not for the door bell ringing, not for the phone ringing, not for the horn beeping, nothing. The homeowners had to break into their own home while I layed fast asleep, in their bed, with their girls. Horrifying.
They asked me back.
This time, (I was only 14), I took the plastic baby bottle and put it in the pot to warm up the milk. It didn't go well. I melted the bottle. Ruined the pot. Horrifying.
They asked me back.
This time, I brought Joan. The girls went to bed at eight and it was snoop time. We loved to snoop in medicine cabinets. Way before Seinfeld, we loved to snoop in the cabinets and check out every beauty product.
This night, there was NAIR. NAIR, the original, stinky, hair removing product that we never bought. So there it was, and Joan decided that we should try NAIR on our eyebrows. We were 14 and starting to "look cool". So, Joan went first. She applied the NAIR on the her eyebrows and we waited for the eight minutes. Eight minutes of stinky cream is better than the pain of plucking eyebrows.
She started to wipe off the NAIR and she had no eyebrows. NONE, zilch, zero. She looked like a camel. With big eyes.
It was horrifying. We were 14. She was moving, never to return to high school again and she was going into hiding. Worse than that, we were in somebody else's house, they were coming home and now they know we were medicine cabinet snoopers.
The homeowners returned. I think they were tipsy and they kept looking at Joan. They stared.
We went to my house for the sleepover. The next morning, my dad said to me, "what is with Joan, she looks like a camel?"
It took weeks for those brows to grow back.
And yes, we got asked back. And we snooped again.
One time, when I was babysitting the next door neighbor, you could look into their house from the back of our house. Typically, when I was there, my parents would call be before they went to bed, "night, come in through the basement, be careful."
This particular night, my dad looked down into the house and said to my mom, "what is she watching on television?"
They searched and discovered it was Alfred Hitchcock's, THE BIRDS.
This time, my dad called me and said, "we are going to bed. come in through the basement and hey, did you know there are a bunch of birds on the roof?"
I know he died laughing when he saw me sticking my head out the window looking up at the roof.
I don't want to wish my life away, or Addie's, but I can hear her and see her walking down the street from a babysitting job and telling stories.
Babysitting made me want to be a mom and own a home.
And I wish I could medicine cabinet snoop one more time.
"Babysit?"
"Yep, you would be good at it, it is fun and you will make a ton of money."
"How is babysitting fun?"
I was the mac daddy of babysitters when I was a teen. Not only was I fun, I showed up and didn't cancel.I had one family that was super easy, paid well, always had TAB and let me bring my friend.
Two little girls that went to bed by seven, eight at the latest and it was a piece of cake.
One particular winter night, the girls and I feel asleep watching television in the parents bed. Not just asleep, but, deep asleep. So asleep that when they returned home, I didn't wake up. Not for anything. Not for the door bell ringing, not for the phone ringing, not for the horn beeping, nothing. The homeowners had to break into their own home while I layed fast asleep, in their bed, with their girls. Horrifying.
They asked me back.
This time, (I was only 14), I took the plastic baby bottle and put it in the pot to warm up the milk. It didn't go well. I melted the bottle. Ruined the pot. Horrifying.
They asked me back.
This time, I brought Joan. The girls went to bed at eight and it was snoop time. We loved to snoop in medicine cabinets. Way before Seinfeld, we loved to snoop in the cabinets and check out every beauty product.
This night, there was NAIR. NAIR, the original, stinky, hair removing product that we never bought. So there it was, and Joan decided that we should try NAIR on our eyebrows. We were 14 and starting to "look cool". So, Joan went first. She applied the NAIR on the her eyebrows and we waited for the eight minutes. Eight minutes of stinky cream is better than the pain of plucking eyebrows.
She started to wipe off the NAIR and she had no eyebrows. NONE, zilch, zero. She looked like a camel. With big eyes.
It was horrifying. We were 14. She was moving, never to return to high school again and she was going into hiding. Worse than that, we were in somebody else's house, they were coming home and now they know we were medicine cabinet snoopers.
The homeowners returned. I think they were tipsy and they kept looking at Joan. They stared.
We went to my house for the sleepover. The next morning, my dad said to me, "what is with Joan, she looks like a camel?"
It took weeks for those brows to grow back.
And yes, we got asked back. And we snooped again.
One time, when I was babysitting the next door neighbor, you could look into their house from the back of our house. Typically, when I was there, my parents would call be before they went to bed, "night, come in through the basement, be careful."
This particular night, my dad looked down into the house and said to my mom, "what is she watching on television?"
They searched and discovered it was Alfred Hitchcock's, THE BIRDS.
This time, my dad called me and said, "we are going to bed. come in through the basement and hey, did you know there are a bunch of birds on the roof?"
I know he died laughing when he saw me sticking my head out the window looking up at the roof.
I don't want to wish my life away, or Addie's, but I can hear her and see her walking down the street from a babysitting job and telling stories.
Babysitting made me want to be a mom and own a home.
And I wish I could medicine cabinet snoop one more time.
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