Sunday, September 2, 2012
The Return of The Conquering Hero
So....man do I wait a long time to post in my blog or what! I guess when you have but 7 followers the disappointment is short in nature. To the 7 of you, thanks for your patience as I wait for life to give me something to blog about. I guess there's always something happening I could turn into a blog post. But that might conjur up drooling, sleep enducing episodes in all of you. So I wait...patiently.
So Rob FINALLY came home. I know, 6 months isn't ALL that long. I was doing fine. And we could have survived as long as the world needed us to survive without Rob. But it is glorious to have him home. He came back on August 19th. His plane landed and he called me promptly at 6 AM. I told him in the best wife voice I could muster to catch a cab home and climb into bed. I figured the kids would be super surprised to come up to my room (if in reality they actually cared enough about what I was doing when they woke up to come up to my room) and they would see him in bed. You see, they weren't expecting him for another day. I had told them he'd be home the 20th so that we could somehow surprise them.
So Rob climbed into bed. And I went down to try and bang pots and pans to wake up my sleeping children who NEVER sleep this long ever. And finally I just went down and said "Kiddles, we need to talk. Everyone up to my room". I never do that. I never have family chats in my room. I just unleash on them wherever and whenever so having an orchestrated family chat was definitely out of the norm. Yet no one questioned me. They followed me like the mice to the piper and then it was revealed to them...Dad is here...in his bed. All mouths dropped. And then they piled onto Rob in a disorganized fashion and all was well.
And it's been fantastical ever since. I have to confess I was a little worried about Rob coming back. Mainly sharing the TV privileges. I had had a Queen size bed to myself as well as the TV and anything I wanted to watch on it. But having Rob back far outweighed any desire to hog for myself all TV viewing. We have been getting along marvelously. He is looking for a job with fury and hopefully one will manifest itself within the next week.
So that's it. A few blog postings of rather negligable happenings and POOF, 6 months has come and gone and my husband is back in my proverbial arms. I'll still continue to post on this blog. I have to be more diligent. My 7 readers expect it.
Friday, April 20, 2012
Boring Is Good
So I've been avoiding my blog for weeks now. That's partly because I couldn't figure out how to get back in. See, I know enough to do harm with this blog, that's about it. So sometimes I find I can't remember the password or why isn't this working and then I kick it and run around it, threatening it with a hammer and it lets me in.
So here I am, blogging about what I thought was going to be the most exciting time of my life. Rob's in Afghanistan and I'm here with four children, alone....in the same house with them....and this alone just opens the door to novels of information and situations I thought would be forthcoming. But you know what? It's life and it's moving forward as usual! I thought for sure by now the water heater would have vomited all over my laundry room floor in putrid water wherein no plumber within a 10 mile radius would want to come near my house. But that didn't happen. I thought maybe the air conditioner would conk out and I'd be sitting in the basement in nothing but a speedo, trying to calm small sweaty children from tearing each other apart in this heat. That sounds all Lord of the Flies but it's only Spring...it isn't that hot even if the A/C did go out.
But I am certainly GLAD that these things haven't happened. Mark my words though, once the universe logs into my blog today and sees that I'm sort of giving it the raspberries it will unleash the hounds of fury and my house won't know what to do with itself.
So with that, I list a few things that have happened as of late. Evan was struggling with school. That part was not good. That was almost as bad as a water heater vomiting on my laundry room floor. I think Rob's leaving had a big impact on him. And he's been feeling more strain of having to be the "MAN" of the house. He handles it well. He does what's expected. But I sat down and had a talk with him. I wanted to get into the core of his feelings and see if this was too much for him. He assures me it is not. I still wonder. But he is improving. We met with all his teachers. He said he enjoyed talking with them like they thought he was a person, not a dust bunny in the classroom. Note--the teachers never treated him like a dust bunny. Evan just seems unsure about dealing with his teachers. I think he feels sheepish about talking to them. So this whole exercise was a good learning lesson. He is on the road to improving already. Crossing my fingers and saying my prayers.
Aedyn got his Arrow of Light last night at Pack Meeting--Scouts in case you have lived under a rock until reading this blog this morning. Most of my readers have lived under a rock at some point in their lives---wink. We are proud of Aedyn for this accomplishment.
Laura is self assured. I overheard her conversation with her brothers last week. It went something like this. "I'm popular". Brothers: "Really, how do you know?". Laura: "Well, the girls at school say I have great clothes. And they say I have great hair. And they say there are boys who have a crush on me. And...well....I am attractive". Oh did I snicker. You know though, I'm so glad she has such a good self esteem. I think sometimes we parents worry that our children aren't allowed to feel this way about themselves. I think the first thought is that it leads to that snotty girl syndrome that sometimes happens. But Laura seems pretty grounded and if she wasn't, she has three boys in her life to keep her that way. She's a diva of sorts but still a sweet human being and I love having a girl in my life. I love my boys, don't get me wrong. But Laura is a marathon shopper, like me. I have trained my little grasshopper well. It's fun.
Grant is his usual sweet giggly self. He got his report card and it's awesome. (Note, all of my elementary school children got awesome report cards. Evan--not the greatest but it will get better I know). Grant was at scouts last night trying to answer a worksheet they gave out and he wanted me to tell him the answers. He didn't know them. I said GUESS. He said "I can't stand to get something wrong". I call him my little Howard Hughes. I know, WHA? Just Google the name. You'll get the gist. He is anal retentive about things. He doesn't wash his hands til they bleed though..just wanted to clarify that.
So life is moving forward. I am trying to be more patient. That's my downfall. But my kids are great. Life is great. Rob is great. He's learning some new skills. I just sent him a discounted Easter box. I'm so belated that way. I felt immense guilt at not sending him some treat for Easter. Meanwhile women all around me are lavishing sweets and treats on their husbands....WHO LIVE IN THE SAME HOUSE AS THEY DO. And here's my husband stuck in the middle of a desert with sand in his teeth and nether regions. And what do I give him in return? CUE the crickets chirping. I caved a few days after Easter and bought up all the reject candy. Not really though. M&Ms and snickers Easter Bunny. That's pretty good right! RIGHT! I'm just trying to make myself feel better. I sent it along and he has been snacking on M&Ms and now I feel justified. The Stepford wife in me has made her appearance and been successful. I can go back to the female version of Steven Wright. Google his name already!
So here I am, blogging about what I thought was going to be the most exciting time of my life. Rob's in Afghanistan and I'm here with four children, alone....in the same house with them....and this alone just opens the door to novels of information and situations I thought would be forthcoming. But you know what? It's life and it's moving forward as usual! I thought for sure by now the water heater would have vomited all over my laundry room floor in putrid water wherein no plumber within a 10 mile radius would want to come near my house. But that didn't happen. I thought maybe the air conditioner would conk out and I'd be sitting in the basement in nothing but a speedo, trying to calm small sweaty children from tearing each other apart in this heat. That sounds all Lord of the Flies but it's only Spring...it isn't that hot even if the A/C did go out.
But I am certainly GLAD that these things haven't happened. Mark my words though, once the universe logs into my blog today and sees that I'm sort of giving it the raspberries it will unleash the hounds of fury and my house won't know what to do with itself.
So with that, I list a few things that have happened as of late. Evan was struggling with school. That part was not good. That was almost as bad as a water heater vomiting on my laundry room floor. I think Rob's leaving had a big impact on him. And he's been feeling more strain of having to be the "MAN" of the house. He handles it well. He does what's expected. But I sat down and had a talk with him. I wanted to get into the core of his feelings and see if this was too much for him. He assures me it is not. I still wonder. But he is improving. We met with all his teachers. He said he enjoyed talking with them like they thought he was a person, not a dust bunny in the classroom. Note--the teachers never treated him like a dust bunny. Evan just seems unsure about dealing with his teachers. I think he feels sheepish about talking to them. So this whole exercise was a good learning lesson. He is on the road to improving already. Crossing my fingers and saying my prayers.
Aedyn got his Arrow of Light last night at Pack Meeting--Scouts in case you have lived under a rock until reading this blog this morning. Most of my readers have lived under a rock at some point in their lives---wink. We are proud of Aedyn for this accomplishment.
Laura is self assured. I overheard her conversation with her brothers last week. It went something like this. "I'm popular". Brothers: "Really, how do you know?". Laura: "Well, the girls at school say I have great clothes. And they say I have great hair. And they say there are boys who have a crush on me. And...well....I am attractive". Oh did I snicker. You know though, I'm so glad she has such a good self esteem. I think sometimes we parents worry that our children aren't allowed to feel this way about themselves. I think the first thought is that it leads to that snotty girl syndrome that sometimes happens. But Laura seems pretty grounded and if she wasn't, she has three boys in her life to keep her that way. She's a diva of sorts but still a sweet human being and I love having a girl in my life. I love my boys, don't get me wrong. But Laura is a marathon shopper, like me. I have trained my little grasshopper well. It's fun.
Grant is his usual sweet giggly self. He got his report card and it's awesome. (Note, all of my elementary school children got awesome report cards. Evan--not the greatest but it will get better I know). Grant was at scouts last night trying to answer a worksheet they gave out and he wanted me to tell him the answers. He didn't know them. I said GUESS. He said "I can't stand to get something wrong". I call him my little Howard Hughes. I know, WHA? Just Google the name. You'll get the gist. He is anal retentive about things. He doesn't wash his hands til they bleed though..just wanted to clarify that.
So life is moving forward. I am trying to be more patient. That's my downfall. But my kids are great. Life is great. Rob is great. He's learning some new skills. I just sent him a discounted Easter box. I'm so belated that way. I felt immense guilt at not sending him some treat for Easter. Meanwhile women all around me are lavishing sweets and treats on their husbands....WHO LIVE IN THE SAME HOUSE AS THEY DO. And here's my husband stuck in the middle of a desert with sand in his teeth and nether regions. And what do I give him in return? CUE the crickets chirping. I caved a few days after Easter and bought up all the reject candy. Not really though. M&Ms and snickers Easter Bunny. That's pretty good right! RIGHT! I'm just trying to make myself feel better. I sent it along and he has been snacking on M&Ms and now I feel justified. The Stepford wife in me has made her appearance and been successful. I can go back to the female version of Steven Wright. Google his name already!
Friday, March 9, 2012
Where's a Carpenter Song When You Need It...
So week four. Rob is doing good. He's got his own room. He is happy and thriving. His peeps love him. But then, that's Rob for you. He's always the beloved employee. I'm happy for that. But this whole single mother thing...I'm a little bit lonely. I think I save weekends for breaking out a sad Carpenter's Song. Or I watch a clip from The Notebook. If that doesn't break you down into the sad despair of things, I don't know what does. For the most part, I'm doing GREAT. I will prevail. It's still the going motto. But there are things that are left undone that I'm not sure what to do about. For example: There is a beeping coming off the Verizon internet box down there in the basement. Beeps are not good. This one beeps about every 30 minutes. We keep thinking nuclear fallout is imminent. So I get online with Verizon and totally fake like I'm a techie. The guys tells me to go down and remove this and unplug that and connect red to black wires and suddenly I feel like I just got scripted to do the next Mission Impossible movie. Only, I'm totally picking a different lead character. So as of yet, the beep continues. I might name it. It is starting to become part of the family. Then one day 2 weeks ago the front door knob just fell off. I said that right...it just FELL off. CLANG...it went to the floor. That forcefield Rob took with him that held every last thing together is just unraveling the very fiber of our house. I took the door knob and shoved it in my purse, meaning to take it in to Ace Hardware and say "Here, YOU FIX IT". But that has yet to happen. So we totally have this system for opening the door. I've taught the kids how to use it. So if a Freeman is at your house and they stand on one knee and pull out a screwdriver to get your front door open, call it environmental conditioning. I thought, if a screw is gone that holds it, glue works equally as well. But when I mentioned glue to Rob, I could HEAR his head shaking on the other end. So don't mess with me people, I have a door knob in my purse and I'm not afraid to use it. It'll all work out. And I'll cut down on the Carpenter songs, mainly because I just went public with that declaration and I see mockery in my future. Do people egg your house when you listen to the Carpenters?
Monday, February 20, 2012
The iPhone is My Dad?
Alright...so I have let the day pass without mentioning anything about it. I did say goodbye to Rob on Saturday. It was sweet and short-lived. But we are existing in a new world where Rob is a virtual Dad. But first, let me discuss the departure. The Saturday was like any other...sleepy-headed children arising from a room where they all camp out together on the floor. For as long as I can remember, they have a sleep over of sorts in one of their rooms, where they all pile on the floor to sleep together. I love that they do this. It's just a symbolic gesture of brotherly/sisterly love. So we got up, did our cleaning, homemade breakfast and on to other things. I went shopping at Costco...why break with tradition even on the day my love was leaving us. So we met up at CiCi's Pizza for lunch. I'm telling you, this is where the SAD SONGS started. We were busy eating our pizza and no music. Suddenly, as though on cue, the music piped up loud and clear. I expected a young pizza attendee to get on the intercom and say "This song's going out to Rob Freeman this afternoon. We love you Rob, and we're going to miss you" and then bam...Landslide by Fleetwood Mac comes on. And it's sad. It's usually a reflective song for me. But now it's just sad. And I revel in the sadness. I'm about to break out my lighter as the mascara-stained tears run down my pathetic face but then I realize I don't smoke and so yeah..no lighter.
For the rest of the afternoon, sadness of music just played on the radio. Any station I put it on...sad,slow songs. I finally just embraced it and turned one up. Rob laughed. I told him the radio knows you're leaving and they really want to create a mood here. We went back to the house to retrieve his duffle bag that may or may not have been able to hold a dead body--yeah, it's THAT big. We had a family prayer...Rob asked me which just made me bubble over like some sad little puppy. The kids all cried. We were a mess. But there was love all around...hugs and promises and all. We drove somewhat silently to the airport. And that was that. We dropped him off, took a couple of pictures of kisses and more hugs and then we drove away, waving one last time as we watched him walk into his new destiny...a United Flight to the Middle East..land of terror. It's not without its risks. But I am hopeful that he will be safe, level-headed and come back to me safely.
We went to see a movie so we wouldn't be mopey. And I took the kids to the elementary school for some hoops wherein my dog, who usually doesn't react in violence, bit a child. Yeah, it was just THAT kind of day. What do you say to the parent when your dog bites their child? Is there a Hallmark card for that? I know, I sound so cynic. And I kind of am. I really did feel awful and there was just not much I could do. It's not like it is with a car crash where you exchange insurance information. I assured them that the dog was up to date on all his shots. But when I got home, it wasn't long before I called Rob in a messy heap of worried tears. "But what if he gets blood poisoning and dies and then they prosecute me because I let my dog bite him and then I'm not here to take care of my children and then they're left homeless and without parents...." It wasn't pretty. But I guess the brain tends to go to the worst possible place.
So we've been 2 days without Rob. And tonight he was IMing with me and my children. And so I realized we don't have Rob, the body. But we have Rob the voice and we have Rob the chatting minstrel. So Aedyn commented that it felt like he wasn't even gone. And I questioned...do they even need the body? Do the little words coming out of the iPhone mean enough that we don't need the body? NO, we miss the body. But in this day of technology, isn't it the GREATEST thing to be able to talk to my husband at the drop of a hat just by messaging him over my phone!!! I love that. So the iPhone and I tucked the kids into bed. And then we retired to our bedrooms wherein I plugged my new husband in to charge and said goodnight and went to bed.
I love new adventures. I'm waiting for more things to come...good things...not so good things (someone stop the dog from biting children...this can't be good for my reputation).
For the rest of the afternoon, sadness of music just played on the radio. Any station I put it on...sad,slow songs. I finally just embraced it and turned one up. Rob laughed. I told him the radio knows you're leaving and they really want to create a mood here. We went back to the house to retrieve his duffle bag that may or may not have been able to hold a dead body--yeah, it's THAT big. We had a family prayer...Rob asked me which just made me bubble over like some sad little puppy. The kids all cried. We were a mess. But there was love all around...hugs and promises and all. We drove somewhat silently to the airport. And that was that. We dropped him off, took a couple of pictures of kisses and more hugs and then we drove away, waving one last time as we watched him walk into his new destiny...a United Flight to the Middle East..land of terror. It's not without its risks. But I am hopeful that he will be safe, level-headed and come back to me safely.
We went to see a movie so we wouldn't be mopey. And I took the kids to the elementary school for some hoops wherein my dog, who usually doesn't react in violence, bit a child. Yeah, it was just THAT kind of day. What do you say to the parent when your dog bites their child? Is there a Hallmark card for that? I know, I sound so cynic. And I kind of am. I really did feel awful and there was just not much I could do. It's not like it is with a car crash where you exchange insurance information. I assured them that the dog was up to date on all his shots. But when I got home, it wasn't long before I called Rob in a messy heap of worried tears. "But what if he gets blood poisoning and dies and then they prosecute me because I let my dog bite him and then I'm not here to take care of my children and then they're left homeless and without parents...." It wasn't pretty. But I guess the brain tends to go to the worst possible place.
So we've been 2 days without Rob. And tonight he was IMing with me and my children. And so I realized we don't have Rob, the body. But we have Rob the voice and we have Rob the chatting minstrel. So Aedyn commented that it felt like he wasn't even gone. And I questioned...do they even need the body? Do the little words coming out of the iPhone mean enough that we don't need the body? NO, we miss the body. But in this day of technology, isn't it the GREATEST thing to be able to talk to my husband at the drop of a hat just by messaging him over my phone!!! I love that. So the iPhone and I tucked the kids into bed. And then we retired to our bedrooms wherein I plugged my new husband in to charge and said goodnight and went to bed.
I love new adventures. I'm waiting for more things to come...good things...not so good things (someone stop the dog from biting children...this can't be good for my reputation).
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
No Woman, No Cry
Alright...it's time to dust off this blog. I'm blowing...big dust bunnies. I haven't posted for eons. I guess I figured no one was reading. But now I'm committed. I'm committed because this is going to be the saga of my life while my husband serves as a computer consultant to a company...in Afghanistan. Yeah, that's the kicker. He's going to Afghanistan. He isn't quite gone yet. He had to go to North Carolina for some training for a few days. But Saturday will come despite my attempt to shove the week into a closet and cram the door shut with my feet. Oh yeah, that Saturday is in there with the old clothes, coats that don't fit, and toys that no longer get played with. But sadly, the door is going to pop open and spill that Saturday out into my life to deal with whether I like it or not.
So, I have decided not to mope. I'm not a moper by nature. I have the will to succeed. I have decided to take my lemons and make at least watered down lemonade. So he is going to be gone for 6 months, wherein we will see each other for a 2 week leave, as a family, and then he'll resume duties in Afghanistan for another 6 months.
Someone told me I can do anything for a year. I suppose. I don't look at it in time passing but I look more at the things that will be missed, on both sides. He will miss birthdays, scouting events, camping trips with the boys. I will miss snuggling with him, talking with him while we sit in bed doing our nightly routines..he on the computer and me willing a ball of a yarn into a baby blanket for some poor unsuspecting mother who has no idea she's about to get her 6th yarn blanket for this poor baby...and it's not even Winter. What I have found already in his being gone since yesterday is that I have this intense will to survive and not just survive but excel. I can do it! And I can take charge and wield my wiry household into shape. So let's go to it.
One thing I have to laugh at is the things that seem to just rear their ugly heads. When I'm in my plain Jane life with Rob, nothing seems to really go amiss. There is the occasional foray into things unmastered before. But for the most part, we are self sufficient people who just go through our life, driving on the same roads every day, going to the same store (it's Groundhog Day, the movie..only I don't feel trapped by it). So lo and behold...the drama that seems to be lurking in the corners...waiting to come out when Rob isn't here.
Case #1: Monday was test day. The kids were due to walk home from school together for the first time in order to make life easier as I have to change my work hours to accommodate the new life changes. So they were instructed to gather together in the walker area and walk home together on a specified route. I'm at home for lunch and the phone rings. It's Laura, my 7 year old adult daughter. She happens to be Diane Keaton, stuck in the body of a 7 year old. So she's telling me "Hey Mom, can you come pick me up?" Rewind...pick you up..where you be child? She tells me that her new classmate wasn't sure how to get home so she walked her home. Oh crappo. I know right then that poor Aedyn is at the walkers area of the school, worried sick about why his sister is MIA. So I panic. Let's say I don't make the best decisions when I panic. I tell Laura I have no idea where she is. Common sense Eva would have said "Let me talk to your friend's Mom and find out where you are and I'll come and get you". But Common Sense Eva hangs out with 7 year old Diane Keaton only on Saturdays when the housework is done. We chill out and watch Hello Kitty movies together. I digress. So I told her to walk right back to the school and get to walkers area and I would meet her there. I drive over to the school in 10 seconds flat (it is after all just across the street). I am beyond normal behaviors at this point. I'm driven to find my daughter. She's now a little stray on the streets and perfect target for the many psychos that exist out there (or maybe they're just all in my head...but they're there). And yes, I'm going long here...bear with me. So I am running around at the back of the school, in the soggy baseball field that leads to a path that leads to the neighborhood where I believe my little Diane Keaton to be. So I'm calling her name, trudging through mud and debris, splashing it all over my work clothes. I don't care. I'm feeling helpless and stupid for telling her to walk back. She's not where I told her to be and it shouldn't be taking her this long. So I'm worried, I'm screaming, I'm crying...I'm a mess. I know my boys are in the school, probably in the front office because they don't know where else to turn and soon enough, my cell phone rings and it's the front office, wanting to know if I know where Laura is. I think this couldn't be any worse..nightmare is unfolding. I thought I might go all Gone With the Wind at that moment and get down on knees, in the mud, and cry out (only note I'm not wearing a dress made with the drapes from my window. I'll save that for when I'm institutionalized). So I go into the school to retrieve my brave little boys. I come back out and head to the field. Grant is suggesting I call 911. Oh I can't possibly be there at that point yet. I haven't exhausted all resources. I tell them that if I don't see her coming down that path in 3 minutes or less, we're heading home so I can call the phone number that Laura called me from and pinpoint the area where she might be. Then I see movement coming down the path and I feel in my gut this is my baby girl. And sure enough, I see that purple coat. Only, she's accompanied by two taller kids. I think at first they're just walking back to school and she happened to join their throng. I find out later that she was walking, or attempting to walk back to the school and got lost. Oh my heart breaks at hearing that. Dumb stupid nonsensical me...telling her to walk back to the school. But the boy, his name is Garrett, saw her crying and asked her her name and asked about her situation and then in the great goodness of his little 5th grade heart, he walked her back to the school and into my waiting arms. I wrote a gushing note of thanks and gave it to Aedyn to take to him (as Aedyn knows him) the next day. I can't express enough thanks to his parents for raising such a caring boy. Day 1 of walking...FAIL.
Case #2: Last night Grant was in the bathroom and thought it would be a great idea to try out the lock on the door. He's never used it before. He's 8, not at that trouble making age where they have to test and try out everything. But he did it. And then wouldn't you know it...he thought "What if..." and shut the door, light on. I can be glad at least he didn't have the water on. So no fear, we have keys. Yeah we have keys. We have keys to every lock known to man in the house...except the keys for that particular bathroom. THIS STUFF NEVER HAPPENS TO ME. Only when my husband makes a declaration to leave the country do these things seem to come out of the woodwork.
So with that, I bid adieu. I am looking with an eye to God, praying every day for peace and patience and a spirit of doing the best job I can do. That woman's poster from the 1940's WWII era, with her fist pumped and her do-rag on..THAT'S ME PEOPLE.
P.S., the bathroom door is still shut. Anyone know a locksmith?
So, I have decided not to mope. I'm not a moper by nature. I have the will to succeed. I have decided to take my lemons and make at least watered down lemonade. So he is going to be gone for 6 months, wherein we will see each other for a 2 week leave, as a family, and then he'll resume duties in Afghanistan for another 6 months.
Someone told me I can do anything for a year. I suppose. I don't look at it in time passing but I look more at the things that will be missed, on both sides. He will miss birthdays, scouting events, camping trips with the boys. I will miss snuggling with him, talking with him while we sit in bed doing our nightly routines..he on the computer and me willing a ball of a yarn into a baby blanket for some poor unsuspecting mother who has no idea she's about to get her 6th yarn blanket for this poor baby...and it's not even Winter. What I have found already in his being gone since yesterday is that I have this intense will to survive and not just survive but excel. I can do it! And I can take charge and wield my wiry household into shape. So let's go to it.
One thing I have to laugh at is the things that seem to just rear their ugly heads. When I'm in my plain Jane life with Rob, nothing seems to really go amiss. There is the occasional foray into things unmastered before. But for the most part, we are self sufficient people who just go through our life, driving on the same roads every day, going to the same store (it's Groundhog Day, the movie..only I don't feel trapped by it). So lo and behold...the drama that seems to be lurking in the corners...waiting to come out when Rob isn't here.
Case #1: Monday was test day. The kids were due to walk home from school together for the first time in order to make life easier as I have to change my work hours to accommodate the new life changes. So they were instructed to gather together in the walker area and walk home together on a specified route. I'm at home for lunch and the phone rings. It's Laura, my 7 year old adult daughter. She happens to be Diane Keaton, stuck in the body of a 7 year old. So she's telling me "Hey Mom, can you come pick me up?" Rewind...pick you up..where you be child? She tells me that her new classmate wasn't sure how to get home so she walked her home. Oh crappo. I know right then that poor Aedyn is at the walkers area of the school, worried sick about why his sister is MIA. So I panic. Let's say I don't make the best decisions when I panic. I tell Laura I have no idea where she is. Common sense Eva would have said "Let me talk to your friend's Mom and find out where you are and I'll come and get you". But Common Sense Eva hangs out with 7 year old Diane Keaton only on Saturdays when the housework is done. We chill out and watch Hello Kitty movies together. I digress. So I told her to walk right back to the school and get to walkers area and I would meet her there. I drive over to the school in 10 seconds flat (it is after all just across the street). I am beyond normal behaviors at this point. I'm driven to find my daughter. She's now a little stray on the streets and perfect target for the many psychos that exist out there (or maybe they're just all in my head...but they're there). And yes, I'm going long here...bear with me. So I am running around at the back of the school, in the soggy baseball field that leads to a path that leads to the neighborhood where I believe my little Diane Keaton to be. So I'm calling her name, trudging through mud and debris, splashing it all over my work clothes. I don't care. I'm feeling helpless and stupid for telling her to walk back. She's not where I told her to be and it shouldn't be taking her this long. So I'm worried, I'm screaming, I'm crying...I'm a mess. I know my boys are in the school, probably in the front office because they don't know where else to turn and soon enough, my cell phone rings and it's the front office, wanting to know if I know where Laura is. I think this couldn't be any worse..nightmare is unfolding. I thought I might go all Gone With the Wind at that moment and get down on knees, in the mud, and cry out (only note I'm not wearing a dress made with the drapes from my window. I'll save that for when I'm institutionalized). So I go into the school to retrieve my brave little boys. I come back out and head to the field. Grant is suggesting I call 911. Oh I can't possibly be there at that point yet. I haven't exhausted all resources. I tell them that if I don't see her coming down that path in 3 minutes or less, we're heading home so I can call the phone number that Laura called me from and pinpoint the area where she might be. Then I see movement coming down the path and I feel in my gut this is my baby girl. And sure enough, I see that purple coat. Only, she's accompanied by two taller kids. I think at first they're just walking back to school and she happened to join their throng. I find out later that she was walking, or attempting to walk back to the school and got lost. Oh my heart breaks at hearing that. Dumb stupid nonsensical me...telling her to walk back to the school. But the boy, his name is Garrett, saw her crying and asked her her name and asked about her situation and then in the great goodness of his little 5th grade heart, he walked her back to the school and into my waiting arms. I wrote a gushing note of thanks and gave it to Aedyn to take to him (as Aedyn knows him) the next day. I can't express enough thanks to his parents for raising such a caring boy. Day 1 of walking...FAIL.
Case #2: Last night Grant was in the bathroom and thought it would be a great idea to try out the lock on the door. He's never used it before. He's 8, not at that trouble making age where they have to test and try out everything. But he did it. And then wouldn't you know it...he thought "What if..." and shut the door, light on. I can be glad at least he didn't have the water on. So no fear, we have keys. Yeah we have keys. We have keys to every lock known to man in the house...except the keys for that particular bathroom. THIS STUFF NEVER HAPPENS TO ME. Only when my husband makes a declaration to leave the country do these things seem to come out of the woodwork.
So with that, I bid adieu. I am looking with an eye to God, praying every day for peace and patience and a spirit of doing the best job I can do. That woman's poster from the 1940's WWII era, with her fist pumped and her do-rag on..THAT'S ME PEOPLE.
P.S., the bathroom door is still shut. Anyone know a locksmith?
Monday, May 16, 2011
Man UP, Woman!
So I am a total wimp. I admit this now. I am passive aggressive. Not much gets me mad. But there are things that get me upset. Today at work I was trying to explain something and it felt like I was speaking a different language to this bull dog of a lady. She heard Charlie Brown's "wa wa wa wa wa" while I was thinking I was being perfectly relatable and clear. After our group meeting, she pulled me aside and laid into me. I mean, we're talking drill instructor to his charges. She was ticked at what I said and felt that I was being unreasonable. I was speechless. And in the doom and gloom of my speechlessness (that's a lot of s's) I became silent, like a mute. I can't speak. I can't stand up for myself. Lumps the size of golfballs form in my throat as I gulp them down, like I'm drowning in my own spit. It's awful. And I have yet to find a way to overcome it. And then I saunter off, trying to remain calm but my emotions are very near the surface and I feel like exploding. If anyone talks to me in this perfect storm, I melt like butter and not in a good way. I become that girl everyone tries to avoid, the one that cries when you say hello. And so to my 5 readers I ask, what can I do? How do I toughen my exterior shell? How do I find a way to be like a football player in the workforce? I don't know. I am opening the line to suggestions. P.S. Going postal is not an option. And the FBI is probably recording this blog as I type it. I'm safe boys, I'm safe.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Sticks and Stones
Valentines Day seems to have diminished. Year by year it seems less attended to. Grocery stores devote less aisle space. Candy seems to get cheaper and waxier. And the little Valentines that the children give out to their classmates seem to shrink in size so that you're left with a small square of a paper with which to scribe your feelings to your beloved classmates. With all that said, we still cherish the day because it gives us a chance to tell the ones we love that we do love them, in case we forget any other day of the year. If we're good (like myself) we express love every day. I feel I express it in many forms. I wash your poopy underwear child, that means I love you. I pick out the pee soaked tights that dearest daughter left in the bottom of her dirty clothes hamper to rot and stiffen like a clothing corpse. This means I love you. Although years later when you read this, you won't equate it with love. And I love my husband. He's so much fun to me. His humor every day, his way of making me laugh even when I have every reason to be mad...that's love. That's devotion. And I'm so thankful for it. Rob and I don't do anything for each other on Valentines Day. I'm not a sentimental gal. And that's alright. He isn't either. So we express our wishes for a Happy Valentines Day and move along. No hard feelings harbored. But what do we remember most for Valentines Day? The unique things. Take for instance the things I saw in rooting through my children's homemade sacks of Valentines. There were homemade cards. I wonder..do parents feel that homemade cards created on thin printer paper, in a blue bic pen are sentimental or they've given up? Don't know. I'm assuming the better thoughts on that though..that homemade says I care. There were little bits of candies. And little expressions as we always remember Valentines Day to possess. Be Mine's and Kiss Me (please don't until your 16 children...ya hear me). But there is one gift given this year that I think my entire family will remember. You're on edge of seat, waiting for me to reveal it. Get your tissues you're thinking right? No. I arrived home from work, after picking up the three youngest children. Grant comes to me and says "Mom, Aedyn got a stick for Valentines Day". A stick? A stick, really? Aedyn chimed in, "It's true Mom". It didn't sound right so I asked him to bring it to me. It was a skewer, one you use for kabobs. It was cut in half. And there was nothing on it. No residue of fluffy hearts, no remnant pieces of a candy wrapper or waxy glue gun leftovers---just half a stick. Awesome. Who knows what its mission was in life. But it will always be the Valentine that we remember. A half a stick. Grant and Laura thought it was cool. My kids won't remember the candy or the cheap bic pen Valentine this year. They will remember something different, the stick with no indication as to what it was intended for. So lesson learned...to stand out..be a stick.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Ugh, Growing Up
When you're young, the last thing you ever think about is that life has an expiration date. No one of us knows when we're really leaving this beautiful Earth. And thank goodness I had a great childhood where I wasn't reminded of death or lived with it. The first time I felt the pangs of loss of life was when Grandma Eva died. I was eight years old, hardly old enough to process truly what I was losing. I remember the pain I felt at her death. I'd never lost anything before. And I cried I think because my Mother was in so much pain that I felt that same pain. Her funeral was beautiful. I remember sitting on the front row. They sang I Know That My Redeemer Lives. To this DAY, I still cry at that song. If I let myself think about the experience of being 8 and facing that death, I tear up and can't sing. I love the song though.
So after Grandma died, Grandpa Que was not long in life before he too passed away. I mourned his loss as well but for some reason Grandma's death seems to stand out more. Along the years, I faced death as dogs lost their lives to cars and illness. It was sad and I hated the grief--it was paralyzing. But even at these ages of losing something precious, I still had no inner reflection as to my own life and its length. It didn't hit me until one cold January day 3 years ago. I was going through boxes in the basement, trying to clear out space and organize. I found a sweet little picture of all the nieces and nephews. And they were holding my baby boy, Evan. Evan is now 12. But at the time of finding the picture, Evan was 9. I remember staring at that picture and my thoughts drifted back to that time. I remember that day when the picture was taken and my thoughts. Evan was a few months old and I thought to myself "Those parents who tell you your children grow up too fast are crazy. I have 18 plus years with this sweet little boy and that is a long time". And then like a brick dropped from an 80 story building, I realized Evan was already half way to 18 and it felt like I had closed my eyes and opened them again and he shot from infant to 9 year old. And then the reality of life and of death hit me. How there would be a time when I would be old (I hope) and that my life had an expiration date. And I cried. I mourned the loss of nothing in particular...just that Evan was growing up too fast and I was growing old too fast. And then I realized all these years why my Dad has practically had one foot in the grave, saying he was old when he was in his late 30s and I understood now why he was doing that.
When you love life, it's hard to think it's gotta end sometime. I could go on living like this for another 100 years. Only, the kids gotta stay small. Please let them stay small. Please let them say words wrong and get food in their hair by mistake and have blobs of chocolate on their chin after licking the beaters of a cookie recipe. Let them hold your hand in innocence forever and squirm in your arms when you try and plant a juicy kiss on their cheek. I could go on if you want. There are plenty of these moments I cherish and want never to go away. Nights of listening to them talk as they sleep in one room together on the weekend, sharing stories and giggling over something completely ridiculous. God knew what he was doing by sending children...they are the greatest beauty in their simplicity. And why do we have to lose that to their adulthood? I guess that's what my parents said as I aged. I was eager to get older and they were eager to keep me little. Life!
So the reason I have such great reflection today is that a good family friend passed away. She and my mom have been the best of friends since they were young girls in the small town of Mt. Pleasant Utah. And they shared everything together, from growing up and dating to getting married and giving birth. And as a child I remember going up to Susan's house. I loved her house. And my life is synonymous with the Litchfield Family. Susan played piano at my reception. And then the evil ugliness of an early end to life stepped in. Susan had pancreatic cancer. She was such a kind spirit and you think those that live good lives and have good spirits should be the ones that never die. But her life ended peacefully on December 8, 2010. And I mourn her. I mourn what was her life, mixed with mine as I think about where I was when I knew her best and where I am now. I am not old. But I still have that heavy heart of having to sometime face that the end of life is inevitable. I don't want it to be. But when a friend or loved one dies, it is the cut into life that says "Yoo hoo, remember me? I'm death. You have to face me sometime Eva". I don't want to. I feel like Scrooge when he's with the Spirit of Christmas Future. He sees his grave and his tombstone and weeps openly, begging for more of his life and the chance to live it right. I want to live long and joyously and I'm sorry Susan's life got cut short. I think positively that she got to live to see her kids grown and living lives of their own. She lived life to the fullest. And that is good. And there is some peace in thinking that. But dangit, don't let me experience death before I'm 90. I have decided to become a marathon walker and weight lifter extraordinaire by the time I turn 50 so I can be a buff grandma (later, much later).
I usually like to post funny commentaries because life has lots of funny to offer. But today, it's all seriousness so that you know I can own it. Love the world! Love your life. And you young parents, know that us older parents ARE right...kids do grow up too fast. It's so great to be a part of it all. God is good. He gave me four beautiful kids to completely adore and parent. And I am thankful for friends and for family (for you reading). I love life. I hope you find a way to love it too, for the sake of those who lose theirs early. It makes you realize that every day should be seized to its fullest. I forget that as I hop in the car and repeat the mundane things of the every day life. But when I reflect, my gosh my heart is full and I see the greatness of the Plan of Salvation. I hope to live my life to the fullest. And if I forget, I now have this post to remind me. Life ROCKS.
So after Grandma died, Grandpa Que was not long in life before he too passed away. I mourned his loss as well but for some reason Grandma's death seems to stand out more. Along the years, I faced death as dogs lost their lives to cars and illness. It was sad and I hated the grief--it was paralyzing. But even at these ages of losing something precious, I still had no inner reflection as to my own life and its length. It didn't hit me until one cold January day 3 years ago. I was going through boxes in the basement, trying to clear out space and organize. I found a sweet little picture of all the nieces and nephews. And they were holding my baby boy, Evan. Evan is now 12. But at the time of finding the picture, Evan was 9. I remember staring at that picture and my thoughts drifted back to that time. I remember that day when the picture was taken and my thoughts. Evan was a few months old and I thought to myself "Those parents who tell you your children grow up too fast are crazy. I have 18 plus years with this sweet little boy and that is a long time". And then like a brick dropped from an 80 story building, I realized Evan was already half way to 18 and it felt like I had closed my eyes and opened them again and he shot from infant to 9 year old. And then the reality of life and of death hit me. How there would be a time when I would be old (I hope) and that my life had an expiration date. And I cried. I mourned the loss of nothing in particular...just that Evan was growing up too fast and I was growing old too fast. And then I realized all these years why my Dad has practically had one foot in the grave, saying he was old when he was in his late 30s and I understood now why he was doing that.
When you love life, it's hard to think it's gotta end sometime. I could go on living like this for another 100 years. Only, the kids gotta stay small. Please let them stay small. Please let them say words wrong and get food in their hair by mistake and have blobs of chocolate on their chin after licking the beaters of a cookie recipe. Let them hold your hand in innocence forever and squirm in your arms when you try and plant a juicy kiss on their cheek. I could go on if you want. There are plenty of these moments I cherish and want never to go away. Nights of listening to them talk as they sleep in one room together on the weekend, sharing stories and giggling over something completely ridiculous. God knew what he was doing by sending children...they are the greatest beauty in their simplicity. And why do we have to lose that to their adulthood? I guess that's what my parents said as I aged. I was eager to get older and they were eager to keep me little. Life!
So the reason I have such great reflection today is that a good family friend passed away. She and my mom have been the best of friends since they were young girls in the small town of Mt. Pleasant Utah. And they shared everything together, from growing up and dating to getting married and giving birth. And as a child I remember going up to Susan's house. I loved her house. And my life is synonymous with the Litchfield Family. Susan played piano at my reception. And then the evil ugliness of an early end to life stepped in. Susan had pancreatic cancer. She was such a kind spirit and you think those that live good lives and have good spirits should be the ones that never die. But her life ended peacefully on December 8, 2010. And I mourn her. I mourn what was her life, mixed with mine as I think about where I was when I knew her best and where I am now. I am not old. But I still have that heavy heart of having to sometime face that the end of life is inevitable. I don't want it to be. But when a friend or loved one dies, it is the cut into life that says "Yoo hoo, remember me? I'm death. You have to face me sometime Eva". I don't want to. I feel like Scrooge when he's with the Spirit of Christmas Future. He sees his grave and his tombstone and weeps openly, begging for more of his life and the chance to live it right. I want to live long and joyously and I'm sorry Susan's life got cut short. I think positively that she got to live to see her kids grown and living lives of their own. She lived life to the fullest. And that is good. And there is some peace in thinking that. But dangit, don't let me experience death before I'm 90. I have decided to become a marathon walker and weight lifter extraordinaire by the time I turn 50 so I can be a buff grandma (later, much later).
I usually like to post funny commentaries because life has lots of funny to offer. But today, it's all seriousness so that you know I can own it. Love the world! Love your life. And you young parents, know that us older parents ARE right...kids do grow up too fast. It's so great to be a part of it all. God is good. He gave me four beautiful kids to completely adore and parent. And I am thankful for friends and for family (for you reading). I love life. I hope you find a way to love it too, for the sake of those who lose theirs early. It makes you realize that every day should be seized to its fullest. I forget that as I hop in the car and repeat the mundane things of the every day life. But when I reflect, my gosh my heart is full and I see the greatness of the Plan of Salvation. I hope to live my life to the fullest. And if I forget, I now have this post to remind me. Life ROCKS.
Monday, September 13, 2010
Out in the Busch
Our family took a trip to one of our favorite amusement parks. Busch Gardens. It's a 2 hour drive through dense trees, dense traffic, and dense people for that matter. And I don't mean dense to the people in a nice way. Get a license people. Okay, rant over. Is it wrong for me not to want my children to age? I keep thinking that this is as good as it gets. And don't we preserve things that are as good as they get? The football trophies, the blue ribbons, the framed art piece! It's the culmination of showing "This is as good as it gets". Only I can't stop time and frame my children (at least not in the U.S. anyway)and I can't stop these awesome children from growing up. They amaze me every day. They stretch my heart to the ends of the Earth's boundaries and then back again. Not always in good ways mind you. But they are good kids. And I feel so blessed it's immeasurable.
So small diatribe of love out of the way, I'd like to discuss the potential future driving issues I have to look forward to. My kids, of all the rides at Busch Gardens, picked the bumper cars as one of their favorite rides. Laura was too small to ride alone so she was Evan's back seat driver. And boy did they have a great time. Nothing but smiles wracking those faces. But here I have broken it down to the three boys and what I have to look forward to if we equate bumper cars as any indication to what potential driving skills will be. Evan will not ever get insurance. They won't even touch us. That kid deliberately crashed into every vehicle he could get his rubber bumper on. Old men, young fathers with giddy kid like goof grins on their faces were no match for my 12 year old. He rammed them like the Vikings of old, all rolled into one human. And he was happy about it. Yikes. So that said, I'm going to have to enroll him in car insurance prior to his driving record hitting the streets. So I'm nicknaming him "The Viking Crasher". On to second child--Aedyn. Aedyn will never make it out of the driveway. He will just sit there contentedly and rev the car. Perhaps he'll get trapped in a cul-de-sac and never make it out. He was "The Spinner" in the bumper cars. Couldn't quite figure out that whole steering wheel thing and continued to spin like a pretty ballerina for the duration of his rides. Eventually he picked it up but yeah...there's no "eventually" permitted in driving. It's drive or die suckah! And lastly there was Grant. Grant I'm labeling as "Mr. Rogers". He tooled around the track like Mr. Rogers might in his neighborhood of make believe. Grant didn't pay attention to any of the crashers. He just drove around oblivious to the fact that the whole idea behind bumper cars is to bump (or pummel as Evan would do). He stayed clear of the trouble makers. He should have been wearing a sweater vest with a comb over. But I think he's set for driving when he turns 70. He's got that whole 20 miles below the speed limit down pat. He tired of the bumper cars more quickly than The Spinner and The Viking Crasher. But that's alright. This gives me hope that Allstate isn't going to send my rates through the roof. That whatever deeds of destruction Evan sews, Grant will retract. And Aedyn is going to save me gas mileage. See, positive thinking. Please don't forward this post to Allstate if you value our relationship AT ALL.
So small diatribe of love out of the way, I'd like to discuss the potential future driving issues I have to look forward to. My kids, of all the rides at Busch Gardens, picked the bumper cars as one of their favorite rides. Laura was too small to ride alone so she was Evan's back seat driver. And boy did they have a great time. Nothing but smiles wracking those faces. But here I have broken it down to the three boys and what I have to look forward to if we equate bumper cars as any indication to what potential driving skills will be. Evan will not ever get insurance. They won't even touch us. That kid deliberately crashed into every vehicle he could get his rubber bumper on. Old men, young fathers with giddy kid like goof grins on their faces were no match for my 12 year old. He rammed them like the Vikings of old, all rolled into one human. And he was happy about it. Yikes. So that said, I'm going to have to enroll him in car insurance prior to his driving record hitting the streets. So I'm nicknaming him "The Viking Crasher". On to second child--Aedyn. Aedyn will never make it out of the driveway. He will just sit there contentedly and rev the car. Perhaps he'll get trapped in a cul-de-sac and never make it out. He was "The Spinner" in the bumper cars. Couldn't quite figure out that whole steering wheel thing and continued to spin like a pretty ballerina for the duration of his rides. Eventually he picked it up but yeah...there's no "eventually" permitted in driving. It's drive or die suckah! And lastly there was Grant. Grant I'm labeling as "Mr. Rogers". He tooled around the track like Mr. Rogers might in his neighborhood of make believe. Grant didn't pay attention to any of the crashers. He just drove around oblivious to the fact that the whole idea behind bumper cars is to bump (or pummel as Evan would do). He stayed clear of the trouble makers. He should have been wearing a sweater vest with a comb over. But I think he's set for driving when he turns 70. He's got that whole 20 miles below the speed limit down pat. He tired of the bumper cars more quickly than The Spinner and The Viking Crasher. But that's alright. This gives me hope that Allstate isn't going to send my rates through the roof. That whatever deeds of destruction Evan sews, Grant will retract. And Aedyn is going to save me gas mileage. See, positive thinking. Please don't forward this post to Allstate if you value our relationship AT ALL.
Monday, August 9, 2010
New York, NY
Well, I survived. I survived New York City. My niece Mandi has always wanted to go. She's 18. And since she's here for the summer it would be kind of a shame if we didn't take this opportunity to take her there. So the original intent was to bombard her trip with a family of four kids and two parents. But that sounded a little daunting to Rob and I. So we decided that I should just go with Mandi alone.
The intent was to make it as cheap as possible. Which honestly, cheap and NYC shouldn't really be mentioned in the same sentence. We decided to take the Chinatown Bus. Good deal by the way if you ever want to travel from DC to NY or back. 20 bucks gets you a smooth ride on a semi luxury bus up to NYC. Our bus departed at 6 but didn't leave until 7. The trip up was uneventful. I read, Mandi read. I listened to a guy clear his throat enough to make me think he must have a CAT stuck down there. But other than that--survived it.
I found us a luxury and palatial place to stay in Midtown NY in the heart of a family neighborhood. That part was cool. It was a hostel. I haven't EVER stayed in a hostel. But I'd like to personally thank my sister for putting ideas in my head that head lice would be something I could walk away with after my stay there. We got there at around 11:30 and were tired so I wasn't too particular. But we had to walk through all these doors and hallways and I thought there might be a rabbit having a tea party on the other end. We took the 1940's elevator up to our room and really, it was a closet with a double bed. When you're tired, you can't complain. But the room had ONE outlet. ONE. One, did I mention? So trying to charge two cell phones and a camera became a juggling act. We had to share the bathroom. Can I just say that the website for this place touted its newly remodeled facilities. My thought is they partnered with the 6th grade class of Martin Luther King Elementary. They gave them rudimentary tools and told them to go ahead and build a TV cabinet for each room and tile the bathroom. The ONE outlet in the room had an extension cord plugged into it which routed half way around the room, through a hole (likely carved with a spoon) in said 6th grade built cabinetry and the fridge, window A/C, light fixture, television were all plugged into it. So I was scared that if I turned the A/C up to high, the entire building would shut down. But we endeared ourselves to this room. It was our hole, our sanctuary from the chaos of the city. Mandi got to see a half naked foreign man shoot from his room to the bathroom--in underwear. Cool.
Saturday morning we awoke ready to take charge of the day. We can be proud that we made it to all our venues and bus rides and tours and had no issues. We took a bus tour through NYC. We saw where John Lennon got shot and the Strawberry Fields portion of Central Park--dedicated to Mr. Lennon. We caught the World Trade Center site and plenty of places along the way. They gave us a boat cruise around Ellis Island and we got to take plenty of pictures of beautiful Ms. Liberty. It was REALLY awesome.
We hopped on the subway to get to places we wanted to see. Chinatown was something we both wanted to do. Shopping is good and cheap. I'm amazed at the skill of these Asian people in luring you into their shops. Each shop was the same--purses and perfume. If you walked in to look at something, you had but to whisper "I wonder how much this is" and somewhere, a short little Asian woman came out of nowhere to tell you "This good bargain. I give special deal, for you. 20 buck for you today. You buy!". They're like the Asian mafia. You don't know when they're going to show up. You have but to ask. I bargained with one of them for a hello kitty necklace. I talked her down to 6 bucks and she started rattling off in her language to her mafia partner and Mandi told me they were talking badly about me. I said they were probably plotting my death later that day in the East River.
Saturday night we went to a Broadway show. I told Mandi not to expect the Donald Trump of tickets. Mezzanine all the way baby. But my knees were embedded in the seat in front of me and I thank Mandi's pick for a 90 minutes Broadway play because had it been say, Phantom of the Opera, I would have had to be surgically removed from the seat. I was nearly in tears by the end of the show and I didn't want to get up and make people stand to let me out right at the climax performance. But my knees were crying out in pure pain. They were begging me to do something. I was begging the show to do something...standing ovation oh please oh please. And finally it came and the show was good--music was good because I was standing and relieving the pressure. Curse be to my Father for the long legs. But I guess I shouldn't be hating on them.
After the Broadway show, we unleashed our wild selves on to the NYC streets. SO MANY PEOPLE. I have never been in a city quite like NY. The people are all over the place. I couldn't help but think that if an emergency happened again, it would be pure chaos. You hardly have room to walk. You get goosed and bumped and brushed every 5 seconds by someone. I look at New York City like one big circus act. The players aren't paid but they can entertain. And at any one time they will perform for you. I think people think they're the only people in NY and no one can hear them have an argument on the phone with their mother. One guy with no shirt got up onto a scaffolding and started doing flips around the scaffolding bar. There are so many walks of life there. It's an amazing place. But a place that I would only want to visit, never live. I think it takes a strong person to live there.
We didn't stay too long on the NY Strip. We went into Hershey World (eh...it wasn't that impressive) and into M&M world. CRAZY! People buying up M&Ms and waiting in a line as long as unemployment to purchase them. Hello people--go to the CVS pharmacy down the block and buy all ya'anto...for much less money and no waiting time. So that's what we did. We were frequent CVS shoppers. We bought blister bandaids for Mandi's feet. We bought icecream and chocolate for feeding the need. And we bought makeup and other toiletries forgotten. Thanks CVS. They were my rock.
Things I like about NYC:
1. It's amazingly beautiful--all those lights.
2. The plethora of different walks of life.
3. CVS Pharmacy
4. Taxi cab drivers--they can really rocketship into traffic when you need to get somewhere.
5. Gay men who argue with their mothers on the phone--very entertaining
6. Shopping
7. Little Hasidic Jew boys with their sweet faces and wispy hair, and beautifully decorated yarmulkes.
8. Subway all day fun pass (as if sitting in a 110 degree furnace waiting for a train is fun). They should call them all day sweat passes.
Things I did not like about NYC:
1. Overuse of the F word
2. Too many people
3. Subway stations with no air conditioning
4. Sweaty Russian men who hold on to the upper bar of the subway rail car and put their pit into your face and rub their sweaty belly up against your hand as you hold on for dear life.
5. Hostel bathrooms with no outlets.
We went to church on Sunday. The only church option was the Young Single Adult Ward. I thought I would be carded. But Mandi was my ticket in. The church is in the same building as the temple. That was cool.
We packed up and dragged our sore feet down to catch a cab to the bus depot. We BARELY made it. I mean by the skin of our teeth. We got the last two seats on that bus. I sat by a sweet woman who spoke only Spanish and her little 3 year old daughter. Seriously that was the best little girl I've ever seen. She sat with her Mom for over 4 hours and never once fussed, never ran around. She was this beautiful little girl with a happy disposition and I bought her a bag of Teddy Grahams because she was so good. If I could have spoken Spanish, I would have asked her mother how she pulled it off.
Our only hiccup this entire trip was our trusty Asian bus driver. He stopped in Baltimore to drop off passengers and pick up passengers. And some doofus thought it was a get-up-and-stretch-your-legs break. So he got off. Then the bus drove away. And the people in the back of the bus saw this guy trying to run to catch the bus and they all yelled in unison for the bus driver to stop. Apparently this offended his ego. And so he stopped the bus, got out, went over to where we ALL COULD SEE HIM and threw a temper tantrum, throwing rocks and his hat and having a conversation with air. I was ready to send my Spanish Momma out to calm him down. I thought about giving him the Teddy Grahams but thought better of it. One kind fella from our bus got out there and put his arm around tantrum boy and then we all quieted down when he got back on the bus and he drove in silence the rest of the way to DC. I seriously thought he was going to drive us off the closest overpass. We shamed his honor he was taking us all down with him. But THANKFULLY we made it back in to DC.
Thanks Mandi for the good companionship. It was a great getaway.
The intent was to make it as cheap as possible. Which honestly, cheap and NYC shouldn't really be mentioned in the same sentence. We decided to take the Chinatown Bus. Good deal by the way if you ever want to travel from DC to NY or back. 20 bucks gets you a smooth ride on a semi luxury bus up to NYC. Our bus departed at 6 but didn't leave until 7. The trip up was uneventful. I read, Mandi read. I listened to a guy clear his throat enough to make me think he must have a CAT stuck down there. But other than that--survived it.
I found us a luxury and palatial place to stay in Midtown NY in the heart of a family neighborhood. That part was cool. It was a hostel. I haven't EVER stayed in a hostel. But I'd like to personally thank my sister for putting ideas in my head that head lice would be something I could walk away with after my stay there. We got there at around 11:30 and were tired so I wasn't too particular. But we had to walk through all these doors and hallways and I thought there might be a rabbit having a tea party on the other end. We took the 1940's elevator up to our room and really, it was a closet with a double bed. When you're tired, you can't complain. But the room had ONE outlet. ONE. One, did I mention? So trying to charge two cell phones and a camera became a juggling act. We had to share the bathroom. Can I just say that the website for this place touted its newly remodeled facilities. My thought is they partnered with the 6th grade class of Martin Luther King Elementary. They gave them rudimentary tools and told them to go ahead and build a TV cabinet for each room and tile the bathroom. The ONE outlet in the room had an extension cord plugged into it which routed half way around the room, through a hole (likely carved with a spoon) in said 6th grade built cabinetry and the fridge, window A/C, light fixture, television were all plugged into it. So I was scared that if I turned the A/C up to high, the entire building would shut down. But we endeared ourselves to this room. It was our hole, our sanctuary from the chaos of the city. Mandi got to see a half naked foreign man shoot from his room to the bathroom--in underwear. Cool.
Saturday morning we awoke ready to take charge of the day. We can be proud that we made it to all our venues and bus rides and tours and had no issues. We took a bus tour through NYC. We saw where John Lennon got shot and the Strawberry Fields portion of Central Park--dedicated to Mr. Lennon. We caught the World Trade Center site and plenty of places along the way. They gave us a boat cruise around Ellis Island and we got to take plenty of pictures of beautiful Ms. Liberty. It was REALLY awesome.
We hopped on the subway to get to places we wanted to see. Chinatown was something we both wanted to do. Shopping is good and cheap. I'm amazed at the skill of these Asian people in luring you into their shops. Each shop was the same--purses and perfume. If you walked in to look at something, you had but to whisper "I wonder how much this is" and somewhere, a short little Asian woman came out of nowhere to tell you "This good bargain. I give special deal, for you. 20 buck for you today. You buy!". They're like the Asian mafia. You don't know when they're going to show up. You have but to ask. I bargained with one of them for a hello kitty necklace. I talked her down to 6 bucks and she started rattling off in her language to her mafia partner and Mandi told me they were talking badly about me. I said they were probably plotting my death later that day in the East River.
Saturday night we went to a Broadway show. I told Mandi not to expect the Donald Trump of tickets. Mezzanine all the way baby. But my knees were embedded in the seat in front of me and I thank Mandi's pick for a 90 minutes Broadway play because had it been say, Phantom of the Opera, I would have had to be surgically removed from the seat. I was nearly in tears by the end of the show and I didn't want to get up and make people stand to let me out right at the climax performance. But my knees were crying out in pure pain. They were begging me to do something. I was begging the show to do something...standing ovation oh please oh please. And finally it came and the show was good--music was good because I was standing and relieving the pressure. Curse be to my Father for the long legs. But I guess I shouldn't be hating on them.
After the Broadway show, we unleashed our wild selves on to the NYC streets. SO MANY PEOPLE. I have never been in a city quite like NY. The people are all over the place. I couldn't help but think that if an emergency happened again, it would be pure chaos. You hardly have room to walk. You get goosed and bumped and brushed every 5 seconds by someone. I look at New York City like one big circus act. The players aren't paid but they can entertain. And at any one time they will perform for you. I think people think they're the only people in NY and no one can hear them have an argument on the phone with their mother. One guy with no shirt got up onto a scaffolding and started doing flips around the scaffolding bar. There are so many walks of life there. It's an amazing place. But a place that I would only want to visit, never live. I think it takes a strong person to live there.
We didn't stay too long on the NY Strip. We went into Hershey World (eh...it wasn't that impressive) and into M&M world. CRAZY! People buying up M&Ms and waiting in a line as long as unemployment to purchase them. Hello people--go to the CVS pharmacy down the block and buy all ya'anto...for much less money and no waiting time. So that's what we did. We were frequent CVS shoppers. We bought blister bandaids for Mandi's feet. We bought icecream and chocolate for feeding the need. And we bought makeup and other toiletries forgotten. Thanks CVS. They were my rock.
Things I like about NYC:
1. It's amazingly beautiful--all those lights.
2. The plethora of different walks of life.
3. CVS Pharmacy
4. Taxi cab drivers--they can really rocketship into traffic when you need to get somewhere.
5. Gay men who argue with their mothers on the phone--very entertaining
6. Shopping
7. Little Hasidic Jew boys with their sweet faces and wispy hair, and beautifully decorated yarmulkes.
8. Subway all day fun pass (as if sitting in a 110 degree furnace waiting for a train is fun). They should call them all day sweat passes.
Things I did not like about NYC:
1. Overuse of the F word
2. Too many people
3. Subway stations with no air conditioning
4. Sweaty Russian men who hold on to the upper bar of the subway rail car and put their pit into your face and rub their sweaty belly up against your hand as you hold on for dear life.
5. Hostel bathrooms with no outlets.
We went to church on Sunday. The only church option was the Young Single Adult Ward. I thought I would be carded. But Mandi was my ticket in. The church is in the same building as the temple. That was cool.
We packed up and dragged our sore feet down to catch a cab to the bus depot. We BARELY made it. I mean by the skin of our teeth. We got the last two seats on that bus. I sat by a sweet woman who spoke only Spanish and her little 3 year old daughter. Seriously that was the best little girl I've ever seen. She sat with her Mom for over 4 hours and never once fussed, never ran around. She was this beautiful little girl with a happy disposition and I bought her a bag of Teddy Grahams because she was so good. If I could have spoken Spanish, I would have asked her mother how she pulled it off.
Our only hiccup this entire trip was our trusty Asian bus driver. He stopped in Baltimore to drop off passengers and pick up passengers. And some doofus thought it was a get-up-and-stretch-your-legs break. So he got off. Then the bus drove away. And the people in the back of the bus saw this guy trying to run to catch the bus and they all yelled in unison for the bus driver to stop. Apparently this offended his ego. And so he stopped the bus, got out, went over to where we ALL COULD SEE HIM and threw a temper tantrum, throwing rocks and his hat and having a conversation with air. I was ready to send my Spanish Momma out to calm him down. I thought about giving him the Teddy Grahams but thought better of it. One kind fella from our bus got out there and put his arm around tantrum boy and then we all quieted down when he got back on the bus and he drove in silence the rest of the way to DC. I seriously thought he was going to drive us off the closest overpass. We shamed his honor he was taking us all down with him. But THANKFULLY we made it back in to DC.
Thanks Mandi for the good companionship. It was a great getaway.
Monday, August 2, 2010
This And That
So me again. I haven't blogged in ages. It's something I want to do more of. But sometimes I realize I only have an audience of maybe 5 so really I could just cinch this up in an email to each of you. But I'll humor myself and continue with the blog.
We went hiking on Saturday. We went up to Great Falls, Virginia which is a place we try and get to at least once every summer. It's really pretty up there. I think I'm starting to take Virginia for granted. It's just such a beautiful state and I love it and I've been in love with it since I moved here. I always discover something new and I think it's the most awesome state. But now I'm like "meh....trees...so what". I don't want to feel that way. I love Virginia. I know the kids love it. But when you live in a place for so long...you start to take everything for granted. You stop noticing the beauty and the amazing features that God has put here for our enjoyment.
Laura got her first tooth this weekend. Well, it's been there but it hasn't grown in. And so she asked me if I could get something out of her teeth that she couldn't get out and it was driving her bonkers. I asked her to go get a dental floss stick and she did. She showed me where the lodged item was and it's a tooth. Only...her baby tooth isn't loose. It's coming in behind it for some odd reason, which means she freaked out and I told her we were going to have to take her to see the dentist. She said she would be brave. I know she'll try. Cute thing. Her baby bottom front teeth are so tightly packed in already. I know without a doubt she'll need braces and I already told her she would. So I don't know how these adult teeth are going to fare down there in tightsville. But I guess that is something to wait and see on.
And lastly, I'm hoofing it this week. Well okay I just said that to garner sympathy. Our van needed its yearly plastic surgery and adjusting. With that, we have rented a van. It happens to have 2 DVD screens in it. Rob was like a kid at Christmas. He popped in a DVD and away we went on the road. The kids were like total zombies. I half expected drool to run in pools as they all sat transfixed to the screens. I have to admit it's kind of nice. There's not "she's putting her foot one inch into my foot space" or "he's trying to beat me with the ice scraper". Now it's just pure silence and I keep having to check back to make sure they're still thriving. They want to trade our van in. I told them maybe once a year we'll get it out of our system and rent a van with a DVD player in it so Mom can have a break. But you miss a lot when you have a DVD player. No imaginations at work. No funny commentary or crazy fighting over who is breathing who's air space. It's not as much fun but in its own right, a blissful change.
Happy August everyone (all 5 of you).
We went hiking on Saturday. We went up to Great Falls, Virginia which is a place we try and get to at least once every summer. It's really pretty up there. I think I'm starting to take Virginia for granted. It's just such a beautiful state and I love it and I've been in love with it since I moved here. I always discover something new and I think it's the most awesome state. But now I'm like "meh....trees...so what". I don't want to feel that way. I love Virginia. I know the kids love it. But when you live in a place for so long...you start to take everything for granted. You stop noticing the beauty and the amazing features that God has put here for our enjoyment.
Laura got her first tooth this weekend. Well, it's been there but it hasn't grown in. And so she asked me if I could get something out of her teeth that she couldn't get out and it was driving her bonkers. I asked her to go get a dental floss stick and she did. She showed me where the lodged item was and it's a tooth. Only...her baby tooth isn't loose. It's coming in behind it for some odd reason, which means she freaked out and I told her we were going to have to take her to see the dentist. She said she would be brave. I know she'll try. Cute thing. Her baby bottom front teeth are so tightly packed in already. I know without a doubt she'll need braces and I already told her she would. So I don't know how these adult teeth are going to fare down there in tightsville. But I guess that is something to wait and see on.
And lastly, I'm hoofing it this week. Well okay I just said that to garner sympathy. Our van needed its yearly plastic surgery and adjusting. With that, we have rented a van. It happens to have 2 DVD screens in it. Rob was like a kid at Christmas. He popped in a DVD and away we went on the road. The kids were like total zombies. I half expected drool to run in pools as they all sat transfixed to the screens. I have to admit it's kind of nice. There's not "she's putting her foot one inch into my foot space" or "he's trying to beat me with the ice scraper". Now it's just pure silence and I keep having to check back to make sure they're still thriving. They want to trade our van in. I told them maybe once a year we'll get it out of our system and rent a van with a DVD player in it so Mom can have a break. But you miss a lot when you have a DVD player. No imaginations at work. No funny commentary or crazy fighting over who is breathing who's air space. It's not as much fun but in its own right, a blissful change.
Happy August everyone (all 5 of you).
Monday, June 14, 2010
So Shoot Me, It's Been A While
I know, I know, all 5 of you that read this blog have been saying to yourself "Really, she's waiting this long to not blog when her blog posts are so titillating". I thank you for saying so. I could have this imaginary conversation with you all day long. I just figured it was time to say something, speak my mind as I usually do, to my devoted fan base of 5.
I have been sick the last couple of days. Being sick is not fun but it gets compounded by the fact that when you get sick, and have 4 children to contend with, you don't get any "me" time really. You have to take it where you can get it. And what is up with husbands thinking that if you're sick,surely they must be sick. They exhibit no symptoms but they do kiss you so that automatically puts them into the sick club. So Rob all of a sudden had the kind of headache that says "I have to go down to my man cave and rest up while playing video games" kind of headache. And I have that sickness of "You're fine, you can still make breakfast, lunch, and dinner for the kids and clean up the house and crochet an afghan for my cold body in one hour" type sickness. It's not fair. And I'm proclaiming it so on my blog. Love ya Rob.
On to other things. Kids and the bathtub is the next chopping block subject. I have two little ones who enjoy bathing themselves. I get it. Independence and all that. But I'm telling you, I think Bath and Body Works has some kind of secret deal going with Laura, my 5 year old. Never have I seen a child go through so much soap. That girl uses soap like...well like a 5 year old given a glass of milk and a full bottle of Hershey's syrup. The syrup will be gone by the end of the milk drinking. And sure enough, my soap somehow finds it's fine smelling self going down the drain with the water. But the bubbles I suppose were worth the risk. And if I interrupt her said date with the soap, she gives me all the best reasons in the world why she used the soap. "It makes these really cool bubbles Mom". But I think the desire is to just see how many bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and regular soap she can make empty by the end of that particular bath session. And I'm a glutton for it, let me tell you. I keep telling myself "Eva remember what your daughter does in the bathtub so that next time you can remove everything but a hotel size soap for her to use". And then sure enough, bath time comes and everything I wanted to remember has been wiped from the brain. I come in later to find emptied, bubble filled bottles bobbing in the tub. It's like nuclear fall out in the bathroom, soap style.
With that said, kids are fun. I wouldn't trade my experiences. I would however gladly relinquish sick days for me and my husband. You see, when he's sick then the whole world has to stop. Children have to be hushed to church levels. Meals must be brought up on regular intervals. Wet cloths to the forehead and a hiring of Swedish maids or something like that (wink). I am still a little woozy from battling sickness all weekend. But I'm ready to get back to the grind of the work week and hope for the best. I am headed to Utah in 2 weeks time. Kids are counting down school's end in 9 short school days (that doesn't include weekends in case you were wondering).
Happy Summer everyone!
Eva
I have been sick the last couple of days. Being sick is not fun but it gets compounded by the fact that when you get sick, and have 4 children to contend with, you don't get any "me" time really. You have to take it where you can get it. And what is up with husbands thinking that if you're sick,surely they must be sick. They exhibit no symptoms but they do kiss you so that automatically puts them into the sick club. So Rob all of a sudden had the kind of headache that says "I have to go down to my man cave and rest up while playing video games" kind of headache. And I have that sickness of "You're fine, you can still make breakfast, lunch, and dinner for the kids and clean up the house and crochet an afghan for my cold body in one hour" type sickness. It's not fair. And I'm proclaiming it so on my blog. Love ya Rob.
On to other things. Kids and the bathtub is the next chopping block subject. I have two little ones who enjoy bathing themselves. I get it. Independence and all that. But I'm telling you, I think Bath and Body Works has some kind of secret deal going with Laura, my 5 year old. Never have I seen a child go through so much soap. That girl uses soap like...well like a 5 year old given a glass of milk and a full bottle of Hershey's syrup. The syrup will be gone by the end of the milk drinking. And sure enough, my soap somehow finds it's fine smelling self going down the drain with the water. But the bubbles I suppose were worth the risk. And if I interrupt her said date with the soap, she gives me all the best reasons in the world why she used the soap. "It makes these really cool bubbles Mom". But I think the desire is to just see how many bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and regular soap she can make empty by the end of that particular bath session. And I'm a glutton for it, let me tell you. I keep telling myself "Eva remember what your daughter does in the bathtub so that next time you can remove everything but a hotel size soap for her to use". And then sure enough, bath time comes and everything I wanted to remember has been wiped from the brain. I come in later to find emptied, bubble filled bottles bobbing in the tub. It's like nuclear fall out in the bathroom, soap style.
With that said, kids are fun. I wouldn't trade my experiences. I would however gladly relinquish sick days for me and my husband. You see, when he's sick then the whole world has to stop. Children have to be hushed to church levels. Meals must be brought up on regular intervals. Wet cloths to the forehead and a hiring of Swedish maids or something like that (wink). I am still a little woozy from battling sickness all weekend. But I'm ready to get back to the grind of the work week and hope for the best. I am headed to Utah in 2 weeks time. Kids are counting down school's end in 9 short school days (that doesn't include weekends in case you were wondering).
Happy Summer everyone!
Eva
Saturday, March 27, 2010
My Bag Speaks
Okay, so I bought some splurges today at Costco. The kids talked me into them. It was some apple cinnamon straws. We're talking wheat, a little sugar and cinnamon and delish. As I stood there, straws shooting in every direction from my hand, I noticed the bag with a big green circle at the top. I could have sworn a little hand came out and waved at me and I heard Carol Kane yell "yoo hoo". So I looked. And I read. And this is what my bag said "This is Sensible...This is your portion...38 Straws". Wow. I just felt like I had a lecture from my mother or father. I translated it to something like this "This is your portion young lady. 38 straws is nothing to scoff at. You'll eat those 38 straws and not a straw more. That's the sensible thing to do. There are kids in Africa that would be completely happy with 38 straws". So then I wondered..is there a secret little microchip in this bag. So what if I reach in and my count extends past the sensible 38? Does the green circle change to yellow and does Oprah Winfrey appear on the couch in the middle of the circle to ask me for a sit down-- things are going awry at this point? And then what if I doubled that. What if I dared to eat, gasp, a whopping 76 straws? I think at that point, the house starts to shake, the power goes out, the circle on the bag goes red and Tom Cruise pops into it and tells me that I DO need medication (sorry Brook Shields), he jumps on Oprah's couch one more time and then the bag self destructs. I know, kind of crazy right that I would have this whole little dialogue in my head over a bag of apple cinnamon straws. I haven't tested my limits with it yet. If it's telling me 38 is sensible, I'm all for food communism. I'll just stick to my 38 and not a straw more....young lady. Well, for that matter, I'm not really that young anymore either. So that's it. That's my blog posting for today. I just thought you'd like insite into my brain. Run for your lives. I do have one thing to add that I'm kinda proud of. It's a sketch I did. Here's the deal (so you don't think I'm bragging and all that jazz). I LOVE doing homemade gifts. My immediate family can vouch for me. So when an opportunity comes up and someone invites moi to a party, I think homemade. Of course, I saw a Christmas commercial from 2009 and Radio Shack told me people don't like homemade gifts. Oh well, what do they know. Anyhoo, I decided for this baby shower (already had the baby--not me...the lady in my ward) and I knew it was a boy. So I wanted to sketch something. I couldn't decide what. I can do cutsie Mormon style (okay, sorry, Mormons do have that kitsch cutsie copycat thing going on) or I could do a pencil sketch. I decided to do a picture of Jesus with a child. I thought it would be a good thing. So last night I went over to my friend Brooke's house (she is the nicest ever) and I sat at her table and sketched whilst the kids ran around making mayhem. I got about half way done and then finished it up this morning. Last night when my kids saw it, they said they had no idea I could sketch. Grant told me (this is the cutest) "Mom, you even draw better than my art teacher. She's good but she's not THAT good". Grant, love ya! So Evan, factoring in that he's 11, has never seen me sketch. That tells you I haven't done it in forever and a day. I think I'll be doing it more. Weddings, showers, you name it, I'm all for a sketch. It's therapeutic. And considering that I plan laboratories (zzzzzzzz) there's not much time to be creative except in my Holly Hobby home projects. So there you have it. I'm including the picture of the sketch.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Bye Bye Soupcase
Why is it that when you're a mom and life is flying by you like the speed of light, you don't realize what you have right under your nose? I take the little things for granted. I listen to the cute little quirks of toddlers and think that they'll be there forever. But I fail to realize that at some point, my daughter will not be able to get away with saying the word "soupcase" and continue to maintain credible aptitude with her teachers and classmates. But what is cuter than soupcase? That's the way she thought we said it. And like unresponsible parents, we just couldn't bare to tell her the right way to say it. Why. How often does a little 3 or 4 year old need to refer to a suitcase in the proper context. So we let it go. And each time we would get ready for a trip, Laura would emphatically say she had to help me pack her soupcase. Awwww, what a cute little word. "We have to pack our WHAT?" I would ask her and over and over she fell for it. "Soupcase Mom, our S O O O P C A S E". Oh. Okay. Thanks for clearing that up. So now, she's getting to that reading phase where she can sound out words. And she's 5. She growing up. So last night we're reading a reader book and she's sounding out words and I turn the page and there are pictures of, say it with me "soupcases" and she sees them. She sees the word, she makes the connection, and I help her finish sounding it out. "Suitcase" I say, hoping she won't hear that dumb T in there. Who needs it. The p makes it so much more endearing. So she says "Oh, soupcases". Ah, she didn't pick up the T. But....my guilty parental thoughts take over. What if she's 20 something and she's in a social setting and they're talking trips and she says she still hasn't packed her soupcase and then they all stare at her like she's a naked terrorist. And then credibility goes out the window. So I squinted and I thought and I said "Okay Laura, I have been misinforming you these entire 5 years of your educated life. It's not soupcase". Ah man. "It's sui-T-case. With a T". She ponders. She doesn't say anything like thanks or well, glad we got that sorted out. She just repeats it, almost like we're in slow motion. S U I T C A S E. Sniff. There it goes. She's fixed. I have made another word right in her little vocabulary. But I lost the cute little soupcase, sacrificed another childhood faux pas. Sniffle. And just last week Grant told her it's not "Husing" it's using. Like using the bathroom. Or using a pencil. But Husing was so much cuter, really! Sad. But they have to grow up and I am the resonsible person for teaching them how to say things right. So I'm having a small ceremony here on my blog. Goodbye Soupcase. Goodbye Husing. What's next?
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Holy Snow Batman
First, a shout out to Aunt Dorothy...my one and only fan who reads my blog. I'm giving her a huge woo hoo for that. Now, on to the snow. I know, snow is snow--it's not that exciting. But my kids would beg to differ. They love the snow. I remember loving the snow too when I was a kid. So what changes through morphing into adulthood? Why now do I cringe when I open the door quickly to throw something into the recycling bin on the porch, thinking I want to be as far away from the white stuff as possible? I don't know. I think it just comes down to body changes that make me cold. I think kids have so much strength in their little bodies to keep them warm and energetic (very energetic) and as adults, we lose that special energy, whatever it might be. In any event, I can go out in the stuff, I just have to be wrapped up like a fleece mummy in order to endure it. The other day I shoveled the walks for myself and my neighbor. I came in and the boys asked me where I'd been. I told them I'd been out shoveling. "YOU--in the snow?" Evan said. I'm just trying to keep them guessing.
The snow today is of record breaking proportions. It snowed all day yesterday, all day today and even as we trickle into night, small fluffs of snow continue to gently graze the massive piles that have already amassed. Am I in Alaska? I look at the neighbors outside the window. They look like Monopoly pieces on a snowy game board. They're tiny compared to the massive piles. But what's really great about the snow---neighbors talking to other neighbors. My son was out there shoveling our walk today. And he's out telling our neighbor Linda all about the snow in Alaska. He doesn't remember of course. But he hears me tell stories and he relates them to her. Everyone comes together during a crisis. It's great to see. And it's nice to see my son forming a relationship with this lady who just last summer really chapped his hide. He wanted to plant an apple seed in the front yard in an old area where the grass doesn't grow. It's a kid thing. And she watched him like a hawk from the window and the moment his fingers hit dirt, it was like slow motion The Matrix--he looked up as he heard her door open and down those stairs she came and laid into him about digging up the dirt and planting a seed. I know she doesn't mean to be so condescending. But she's older and single and has nothing better to do. So it warmed my heart to see them out there sharing a common task together and being able to relate to each other. Love the snow for that reason. Maybe if it snowed in Iraq and Iran and Pakistan, they could all come out and help each other shovel and tell stories about what the other has experienced and form a bond. I think it's a great idea. Everyone pray for snow in the Middle East.
The snow today is of record breaking proportions. It snowed all day yesterday, all day today and even as we trickle into night, small fluffs of snow continue to gently graze the massive piles that have already amassed. Am I in Alaska? I look at the neighbors outside the window. They look like Monopoly pieces on a snowy game board. They're tiny compared to the massive piles. But what's really great about the snow---neighbors talking to other neighbors. My son was out there shoveling our walk today. And he's out telling our neighbor Linda all about the snow in Alaska. He doesn't remember of course. But he hears me tell stories and he relates them to her. Everyone comes together during a crisis. It's great to see. And it's nice to see my son forming a relationship with this lady who just last summer really chapped his hide. He wanted to plant an apple seed in the front yard in an old area where the grass doesn't grow. It's a kid thing. And she watched him like a hawk from the window and the moment his fingers hit dirt, it was like slow motion The Matrix--he looked up as he heard her door open and down those stairs she came and laid into him about digging up the dirt and planting a seed. I know she doesn't mean to be so condescending. But she's older and single and has nothing better to do. So it warmed my heart to see them out there sharing a common task together and being able to relate to each other. Love the snow for that reason. Maybe if it snowed in Iraq and Iran and Pakistan, they could all come out and help each other shovel and tell stories about what the other has experienced and form a bond. I think it's a great idea. Everyone pray for snow in the Middle East.
Friday, December 25, 2009
Christmas 2009
It has been QUITE a while since I posted to this blog. Sorry sad me. I found it was easier to post to Facebook and not maintain this blog. But I've been rethinking my decisions as of late and now, here I am, back where I began in the public forum for posting my information.
Christmas has been good this year. It was meager....seems like it takes a lot of money sometimes to buy the things that your child has professed a love for. I tried to make it a simple Christmas with enough toys to satiate and not overdo and I think I accomplished it.
Yesterday we went to the mall. We were waiting to see A Christmas Carol movie and while we bided our time, we walked around. Build A Bear was having a special on animals...when aren't they! Grant was supposed to get an animal of his choice for his Birthday and for some reason we just didn't make it to the mall. So Rob was bound to make it up to him and yesterday was his magical chance. He picked out a Panda Bear. The lady at the stuffing machine (because that's the only name that comes to mind) filled the Panda up and asked Grant to pick out a cloth heart to put inside. He happily complied and paused, as she asked him to warm the heart before putting it in the bear. Grant took that little cloth heart into his palm, closed his eyes as though he was going to make a wish, and put the cloth heart to his own heart. It was so so so so sweet to watch him go through these actions. Rob's eyes welled up, as much as he didn't want to admit it. It was unadulterated love, from a child. And it's no wonder that children are closest to God. They have this innate ability to love and be unabashed about love. It made me melt to watch him and I just reached over and tousled his hair.
The movie was good but somewhat graphically scary for little ones. Laura was sitting on my lap for half the movie. I asked her if she was scared and she resoundingly confirmed every time that she was not. She's a brave little engine :).
Today I sit here and watch the kids and marvel at the simplicity that is life. That will last for about another hour before I get wanderlust and want to leave the house. I always feel like I'm cooped up when I have to stay in all day. I want to get out and do something in order to feel like I have had a complete day.
I'm thankful for the birth of our Savior. We celebrate it at this time of year. It is a miracle and I'm glad we recognize it and that the worldly world hasn't wiped it from our visual and auditory periphery for another year. In fact, I'm encouraged by the fact that people seem to be shifting in a change to readopting the Christ in Christmas. It is heart warming to see and to welcome the well wishes of others as they say resoundingly "Merry Christmas" and not a placated "Happy Holidays".
Life can sometimes be hard. But at the same time, it rewards us back with the little day to day things...things that our children give us and we as adults impart to one another...that make everything worth the living here. I am reminded of a woman in Utah who was burned in 3rd and 4th degree burns over most of her body. She was given a blessing that she could depart this world and not have any more pain or sorrow. Or she could return to the body that laid there on the bed, completely burned over and aching from every nerve. She was told that if she did want to live, her life would be hard but she would be part of life, be part of her children's lives and be able to see them. She chose to live. And she is alive today. She goes through many daily hardships with the results of her accident. But she realizes at the core of it, she is here, on Earth, living and watching her children and that in itself is a GREAT gift. I have to remember how blessed I am and all the things I have and who I owe the most thanks to---as my eyes turn heavenward.
Thanks to everyone for a great year. I'm sure there's only 1-2 who will read this post at this point. You've all given up hope on me ever posting here again. But best wishes for a Happy New Year and here's to a fantastic and superb 2010.
Christmas has been good this year. It was meager....seems like it takes a lot of money sometimes to buy the things that your child has professed a love for. I tried to make it a simple Christmas with enough toys to satiate and not overdo and I think I accomplished it.
Yesterday we went to the mall. We were waiting to see A Christmas Carol movie and while we bided our time, we walked around. Build A Bear was having a special on animals...when aren't they! Grant was supposed to get an animal of his choice for his Birthday and for some reason we just didn't make it to the mall. So Rob was bound to make it up to him and yesterday was his magical chance. He picked out a Panda Bear. The lady at the stuffing machine (because that's the only name that comes to mind) filled the Panda up and asked Grant to pick out a cloth heart to put inside. He happily complied and paused, as she asked him to warm the heart before putting it in the bear. Grant took that little cloth heart into his palm, closed his eyes as though he was going to make a wish, and put the cloth heart to his own heart. It was so so so so sweet to watch him go through these actions. Rob's eyes welled up, as much as he didn't want to admit it. It was unadulterated love, from a child. And it's no wonder that children are closest to God. They have this innate ability to love and be unabashed about love. It made me melt to watch him and I just reached over and tousled his hair.
The movie was good but somewhat graphically scary for little ones. Laura was sitting on my lap for half the movie. I asked her if she was scared and she resoundingly confirmed every time that she was not. She's a brave little engine :).
Today I sit here and watch the kids and marvel at the simplicity that is life. That will last for about another hour before I get wanderlust and want to leave the house. I always feel like I'm cooped up when I have to stay in all day. I want to get out and do something in order to feel like I have had a complete day.
I'm thankful for the birth of our Savior. We celebrate it at this time of year. It is a miracle and I'm glad we recognize it and that the worldly world hasn't wiped it from our visual and auditory periphery for another year. In fact, I'm encouraged by the fact that people seem to be shifting in a change to readopting the Christ in Christmas. It is heart warming to see and to welcome the well wishes of others as they say resoundingly "Merry Christmas" and not a placated "Happy Holidays".
Life can sometimes be hard. But at the same time, it rewards us back with the little day to day things...things that our children give us and we as adults impart to one another...that make everything worth the living here. I am reminded of a woman in Utah who was burned in 3rd and 4th degree burns over most of her body. She was given a blessing that she could depart this world and not have any more pain or sorrow. Or she could return to the body that laid there on the bed, completely burned over and aching from every nerve. She was told that if she did want to live, her life would be hard but she would be part of life, be part of her children's lives and be able to see them. She chose to live. And she is alive today. She goes through many daily hardships with the results of her accident. But she realizes at the core of it, she is here, on Earth, living and watching her children and that in itself is a GREAT gift. I have to remember how blessed I am and all the things I have and who I owe the most thanks to---as my eyes turn heavenward.
Thanks to everyone for a great year. I'm sure there's only 1-2 who will read this post at this point. You've all given up hope on me ever posting here again. But best wishes for a Happy New Year and here's to a fantastic and superb 2010.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Presidential Circumstances
I thought I would share this little story about the younger of the Freeman brood. We had just dropped Aedyn and Evan off at piano lessons so it was myself, Grant, and Laura in the car. They were chatting back and forth about President's Day. Grant informed us that George Washington was the first President of the United States. Laura emphatically said "No...Rock A Bama (translation: Barack Obama) was our first President. Seeing the learning opportunity, I told Laura that Barack was our first black President. I don't know why I say black as opposed to African American. I'm honestly not sure of the right terminology. I grew up saying black. In any event, Grant said "That's right, and George Washington was our first peach President". How funny the perceptions of a 5 year old. He had a sack puppet with the face of George on it and he had used a peach crayon to color it. So if I was going to color categorize Barack, he would do the same for George. I laughed to myself and confirmed his observations and resolved to document this funny little thought from his 5 year old brain.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Exonerating the Husband
Rats. Valentines Day. Do I buy something, do I not? Rob doesn't really care I don't think. We are practical people. We have anniversaries and other holidays for buying gifts. But this year, an anomaly. Rob and I both bought presents for each other without the other knowing. Today, Rob gave me my gift. There are several things a man can do to really blow it out big for his significant other and Rob did that today. He sent me 2 dozen, long stem red roses. Sigh. How great is that. I bought him something too but in the event that he's reading my blog, I can not as of yet give away what I bought. I can give a hint though...it's red. I've probably already said too much (wink). I think the reason I have a hard time on Valentines Day is because I get embarassed about being sentimental. It's hard to put myself in that mode because I so often make fun of those kind of people ha ha. So I say this...don't be afraid of the corn and moosh people...it's not just for breakfast anymore. Happy Valentines Day.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
When Lights Don't Work
Okay, so I haven't posted for a while. I'm not sure what my lack of motivation is. Perhaps is called time and I don't seem to carry enough of it. But then, prioritization is essential and I guess I'm not putting blogging at the top of my list right now.
But I do have an interesting story that occurred on Monday of this week. Evan is in a choir group at school. And they were having a big what they deem a "Pyramid" sing-a-thon...something along those lines. So we had to have Evan to Centreville Highschool by 6:30 PM. We fought the lines of traffic, poorly designed entry into the school and parked on the side of the road. We made our way through chatty parents and up to the nosebleed section so we could see our son on the other side in the bleachers, a spec in the masses. It was HOT and I mean HOT. The speakers scattered around were making a low buzzing noise and Grant was complaining in his T-shirt that he was hot. I was wearing an acrylic turtleneck--I might as well have been in a down coat. HOT! The program started and the music teacher from Centreville Highschool, hosting this singing get together, spoke to us and told us the power had gone out earlier and had blown something related to speakers (blanket apology to my husband who will later make fun of me for not knowing the name of what blew) but this is what caused the buzz from the speakers. We're off on good footing at this point. Singing, singing, more singing. We get to the last group of elementary kids before moving on to a middle school and two highschools. They're in the middle of their somewhat depressing song when the lights pop off. Never have I heard that decibel of screaming. All kids joined together in one harmonious shriek heard across the gym. I think the teachers had pure panic in their hearts at that point. I guess I don't blame them. The thought that a 1000 or more people would stampede out of there and possibly cause the loss of a life was in my thoughts. We stayed on our very comfortable wooden bleacher seats (I couldn't feel my bottom half at that point anyway, what's another 30 minutes of sitting). Okay, I know, TMI. I don't do well on hard seating the depth of a school pencil. The teachers began yelling for us to stay in our seats. The shrieking stopped as I'm sure quiet threats were made from music teachers to their various groups of singers. The gym was all quiet. They told us to stay put, they were working on fixing the electricity. Okay. What to do now. Grant and Aedyn thought immediately there must be a blizzard outside of Little House on the Prairie proportions--what else would make the power go. I explained that there are other reasons why power goes out--old building, faulty wiring. I was doing my best Cliff Claven I know everything explanation. They weren't buying it.
Finally, generator power kicked in and lights came on somewhat. Not before a teacher began yelling at us, the crowd, to put our hands over our mouths and stop talking. She was panicked, it was clear. Some father, oh blessed man, yelled shut up to the teacher. Nice! Real mature. So I was expecting some kind of chaos to ensue. But peace reigned.
They came over with a bull horn and started telling us the county had asked that we evacuate. The kids were to go first to the cafeteria and we would be excused after that to go attempt to find them--darkness and all. Rob and I devised a plan. I would take the three kids to the car and wait there. Rob would go to Cafeteria land and find our poor Evan.
Finally, full power came on. I took the kids, in my high heels, down those bleachers. As we shuffled along in the hallway toward the exit, Grant commented that we were walking like old grandpas. Walking is better than falling I say so better to be moving than not moving at all. We finally got to the van. Rob and Evan were not far behind. Evan hugged me tightly when he got into the van. I think it made him appreciate his parents and siblings more with something, as minor as that was. He was so kind to his brothers and sisters that night. I think we're going to make weekly trauma part of life in order to instill appreciation more often ha ha.
So when next I have a cool story to tell, I shall post again.
But I do have an interesting story that occurred on Monday of this week. Evan is in a choir group at school. And they were having a big what they deem a "Pyramid" sing-a-thon...something along those lines. So we had to have Evan to Centreville Highschool by 6:30 PM. We fought the lines of traffic, poorly designed entry into the school and parked on the side of the road. We made our way through chatty parents and up to the nosebleed section so we could see our son on the other side in the bleachers, a spec in the masses. It was HOT and I mean HOT. The speakers scattered around were making a low buzzing noise and Grant was complaining in his T-shirt that he was hot. I was wearing an acrylic turtleneck--I might as well have been in a down coat. HOT! The program started and the music teacher from Centreville Highschool, hosting this singing get together, spoke to us and told us the power had gone out earlier and had blown something related to speakers (blanket apology to my husband who will later make fun of me for not knowing the name of what blew) but this is what caused the buzz from the speakers. We're off on good footing at this point. Singing, singing, more singing. We get to the last group of elementary kids before moving on to a middle school and two highschools. They're in the middle of their somewhat depressing song when the lights pop off. Never have I heard that decibel of screaming. All kids joined together in one harmonious shriek heard across the gym. I think the teachers had pure panic in their hearts at that point. I guess I don't blame them. The thought that a 1000 or more people would stampede out of there and possibly cause the loss of a life was in my thoughts. We stayed on our very comfortable wooden bleacher seats (I couldn't feel my bottom half at that point anyway, what's another 30 minutes of sitting). Okay, I know, TMI. I don't do well on hard seating the depth of a school pencil. The teachers began yelling for us to stay in our seats. The shrieking stopped as I'm sure quiet threats were made from music teachers to their various groups of singers. The gym was all quiet. They told us to stay put, they were working on fixing the electricity. Okay. What to do now. Grant and Aedyn thought immediately there must be a blizzard outside of Little House on the Prairie proportions--what else would make the power go. I explained that there are other reasons why power goes out--old building, faulty wiring. I was doing my best Cliff Claven I know everything explanation. They weren't buying it.
Finally, generator power kicked in and lights came on somewhat. Not before a teacher began yelling at us, the crowd, to put our hands over our mouths and stop talking. She was panicked, it was clear. Some father, oh blessed man, yelled shut up to the teacher. Nice! Real mature. So I was expecting some kind of chaos to ensue. But peace reigned.
They came over with a bull horn and started telling us the county had asked that we evacuate. The kids were to go first to the cafeteria and we would be excused after that to go attempt to find them--darkness and all. Rob and I devised a plan. I would take the three kids to the car and wait there. Rob would go to Cafeteria land and find our poor Evan.
Finally, full power came on. I took the kids, in my high heels, down those bleachers. As we shuffled along in the hallway toward the exit, Grant commented that we were walking like old grandpas. Walking is better than falling I say so better to be moving than not moving at all. We finally got to the van. Rob and Evan were not far behind. Evan hugged me tightly when he got into the van. I think it made him appreciate his parents and siblings more with something, as minor as that was. He was so kind to his brothers and sisters that night. I think we're going to make weekly trauma part of life in order to instill appreciation more often ha ha.
So when next I have a cool story to tell, I shall post again.
Monday, December 29, 2008
Happy Anniversary
Yesterday was my 13th Anniversary with Rob. We celebrated on Saturday night. We went out to dinner at Ruth's Chris Steakhouse which happens to have the best sweet potato casserole known to man. But I'm switching focus here and I should be focusing on my husband :). In any event I just wanted to say that I love you Rob and this has been a roller coaster of 13 years but filled with the joy of 4 children, many fun times and lots of remembrances to cherish. I'm not a sappy gal and don't get into the diatribe Hallmark version of ode to husband but I wanted to say that I hope the next 13 will be as good as the last.
With love,
Your wife
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