WTF

So I'm looking at my kid's websites for their schools and I see this message on the front page:

Beginning 2008, a medical or dental appointment must have PRIOR APPROVAL of the principal or his/her designee in order to be excused, except in the case of an emergency. Upon returning to school a proper excuse must be presented from the attending physician/dentist.

Please use the form below to let the school know of scheduled medical/dental appointments.

Umm, I don't think so. It is none of their business when, where, and to whom I take my child to see. I certainly do not seek their approval of it.

The whole excused absence thing to me is a joke. See, if my kids have a certain number of unexcused absences I get to go to jail or be fined. Now they want to put that in the hands of an elementary school principal who has a God complex. "Oh, I think Gracie has been to the dentist/doctor enough this year. I don't think I'll approve this visit."

When my kids don't go to school it is no one's business but my own. What are they trying to accomplish here? I"m not a child. I don't ask permission where my kids are concerned. No, they can't keep me from taking my child to the doctor/dentist but they can send me nasty and threatening letters if they miss too much.

This may just be too much. I may have to bite the bullet and teach them at home. This constant interference into mine and my children's lives is almost too much.

Day Three

I was surprised, but Crystal did wake up feeling better that morning. She tossed and turned most of the night, but swore she felt better.

We decided to visit the Golden Gate Bridge that morning. It was more overcast than I would have liked it but we had plans for later in the day. As we piled out of the cab, I looked over at this landmark I had only seen on tv and in pictures, I was truly moved.

There were thousands and thousands of cars driving over it, coming and going, as I'm sure most of them do every day. I was thinking to myself how lucky I was to be standing next to this bridge and how the people in those cars probably don't think twice about it.

We stood and stared awhile then we decided to go for a little walk across. We had no illusions of making it all the way across, but we had to go just a little ways. This picture was taken looking straight up.

This one, straight down:

The pictures really don't convey the size of the bridge. I stood there, looking out over the water, just taking in the cold breeze, the view, everything. I tried to memorize every detail, knowing it wouldn't last forever.

We ventured down to a place called Crissy Field and had hot dogs and I walked along the beach. As I turned to take one last look at the bridge I took this picture. I think it is my favorite. Every time I look at it I say, "I was there. I was actually there!"


We had plans for lunch with one of Crystal's readers. Dan, and his girlfriend Joyce, live outside San Francisco and wanted to take us to lunch. I had no idea the treat we were in for. We went to Fisherman's Wharf and ate a place called Scoma's. I have never had truly fresh seafood before and this was definitely the place to have it. I cracked crab legs for the first time. I even wore the bib! I had shrimp, scallops, and tilapia. I will never be able to enjoy Red Lobster again.

After a very long, and luxurious lunch, we went back to hotel to get ready for the cocktail party at Macy's. Yes, Macy's. It has seven stories. I am not a particularly fanatical shopper, but this place was impressive. The party was a moving party of sorts. It started out on one floor, the shoe department, and then every hour would move to a different floor and department. It was very neat.

This was where I met Redneck Mommy, and Gwendomama, and I'm not sure if it was the first time I met her that weekend, but I saw Carly (I didn't know if you wanted your name used, I do remember it) and Brian, and watched her have chocolate vodka shots. Brave woman she is.

Crystal and I ventured back to China Town for souvenirs and one last walk through. She was hungry and I wasn't quite ready to call it a night. This would be my last in San Francisco. We had to be up very early for our flight back home.

We picked a nice little bistro up the street from The Westin and invited Brian and Carly to join us. We talked and laughed, way later than we should have. I so enjoyed their company. It was a fitting end to a fabulous weekend.

We got back to the hotel, and began the task of stuffing all our souvenirs and grab bags into our luggage. When we had everything packed and finally said good night, I couldn't sleep. I was sad to go. The weekend events played over and over in my mind.

I have nothing but fond memories of this wonderful place and I can't wait to go back. Next time with my husband and kids. They would absolutely love it. Well, my husband will love it when he can legally carry his pistol there. There is so much more I would do and see and I can't wait to be able to share it all with them.

Day Two

We woke up early Friday morning to go to breakfast at the BlogHer conference. They had kind of an official meet and greet that morning and Crystal's panel was at 12:45.

We had breakfast and listened to the women who founded BlogHer speak for a while. We sat at a table with complete strangers, but who really seemed not to be strangers. They had this fun little game to play where every five minutes two people got up from the table and went to a different table while two other people came to your table. It was a way to kind of make it around the room and meet some women you might not already know.

It was after breakfast as Crystal and I were hanging around our table discussing what to do next when a man named Brian approached us and asked if we knew where a particular conference room in the hotel was. We looked at the map (yes, this hotel was big enough to have a map) and tried to determine where he needed to be. We made small talk but that turned into a little more talk and like 2 hours later the three of us were like best friends. He was encouraging and kind and I enjoyed getting to know him.

Crystal's panel went well, I thought. There was no bickering or choosing sides, or right or wrong. Some women choose to share their children's photos and names and some do not. Each side was respectful of the other. I sat next to Tanya and we laughed as the panelists had to do microphone checks. We also realized we were both blog-tarded as some of the women were discussing watermarks on pictures. I hate it I didn't get to see her much that weekend.

We ventured into China Town next. This place was phenomenal. There is one main street with shops stacked right next to each other with restaurants thrown in here and there. We saw many of the typical gift items in most of the stores. Lots of T-shirts, caps, the Chinese fans, and even little kimonos and matching shoes. I did not expect to find these:

These jokers ranged in size from about 6 or 7 inches to one giant 3 foot monstrosity. How do you have a 3 foot penis sitting in your living room? The laughing that ensued after that almost rivaled the slide incident.

We walked along further and Crystal was trying her best to not be sick. She had been sick at her stomach all day, but assumed it was nerves. She asked if I was hungry and we picked the nearest place. It was small but clean. I had pot-stickers for the first time, which by the way I loved. I haven't thought of those things since I got back, but now that I am writing about them I am seriously craving them. I also had sweet and sour chicken which was amazing.

By then end of dinner I didn't think Crystal would make it back to the hotel. We tried in vain to hail a cab, but on a Friday night, we were having no luck. None of the restaurant owners would let her in to use the bathroom because we weren't customers, so we had to buy gum, coke, or candy just to go in.

One place we went in had pigeons walking around jumping on the tables. I was fascinated that these people didn't care. There were even people in there eating just watching them hop and fly around.

Finally caught a cab back to our hotel and Crystal crashed for the night. I sat and watched tv, still not really believing where I was.

Day One

Our flight was scheduled to leave at 6:45 a.m. I could not sleep the night before and I ended up waking up at like 3 a.m. and going ahead and getting my shower and getting ready for my weekend away from home.

Gracie woke up after I got in the shower and kept me company that morning. I loved talking, just the two of us. We were out on the porch and of course the sun wasn't up yet. I had my suitcase packed and ready to go, and she was sitting on my lap. Just for a while she wasn't 9 years old. When Crystal came to pick me up, Gracie put on her best face, while choking back tears, she told me to have a good time.

We got to the airport in plenty of time so I had plenty of time to work myself up into being really, really, nervous about the flight. I don't like flying at all. I must say, though, the flights were very smooth and not so scary as I remembered. I was a little sleepy from my motion sickness meds, so that could have something to do with it.

When we got off the plane at San Francisco we made our way through the airport and came to like a breezeway where we were no longer inside. That cold breeze hit us and we both squealed. We had heard, bring a jacket, wear long pants, but we just came from 95 degrees and 105 heat index. We thought we were ready for a little cool weather. I didn't part with my jacket the entire weekend.

We took a subway, of sorts, from the airport to downtown. When I stepped out of the station I was completely taken aback. It was like being transported to a different world. The buildings rose to the skyline, there were people playing music, there was a feel to it. I knew from that moment that this was going to be a trip I would never forget.

I rode in my very first cab to our hotel and sprawled across the bed while Crystal got ready. The hotel we stayed at was The Marina Inn. The first thing both of us notice is there is no air conditioning. We looked at each other, wondering how in the world could you not have air. Turns out, we didn't really need it. There was a fan in the room but it got down to about 50 at night so it wasn't hot at all. It was small and quaint, but it had two beds and a shower and we weren't in San Francisco to stay in a hotel room.

The first party we went to was at the Slide lounge. It was a private party hosted by The Silicon Valley Moms, that had a guest list and was not open to the public. I felt very important as my name was verified and checked off the list. This joint actually had a slide you could ride down to get to the main floor. I was smart enough to have a skirt on but Crystal took the plunge. You can read about it here, as my words could not possibly convey the hilarity of that event. Oh, and the picture. You must see the picture. In very short terms: slide, very fast, ass on floor, me not breathing for an entire 10 minutes because I was laughing so hard.

Next was a party at a club called The Rye. This party was hosted by a man named Armen, who founded Experience Project. He and his staff are the most passionate people about what they do as I have ever met. Pretty cool thing he started. He, as well as everyone there, made us feel totally at home. Thank you all very much.

We made one last stop by The Westin, which was where the conference was being held, but I honestly don't remember much about that because I was so completely tired, I couldn't but barely keep my eyes open. My body clock was still on Memphis time.

I had a wonderful first impression of San Francisco and of the women I would meet over the days to come. I had my first cab ride, my first time in lounge/club/bar, and I was on top of the world.

Yes, I know, I'm 32 years old and I have never been to a bar. Sue me. I don't drink, and I have been married since I was 18. That crosses out the only two reasons I know of to ever go to one. Except for these two times, which were to neither drink, or to find that "special someone."

I Am In Love

I am in love with another city. I never imagined I could feel this way about a place. After all, a city is just a city. Filled with people, cars, buildings, hotels, and such. Not true. A city is not just a city. San Francisco was all I imagined it would be. I do realize that I live in one of the shittiest cities in the United States so it wouldn't take much to kick it to the curb, even still, awesome place.

I went for 4 days to lovely San Francisco for the annual BlogHer conference. If you don't know what that is, it is a get together for women bloggers. They have speakers and panels and parties. Lots of parties. They talk about blog design, how to get traffic, and how to get paid for your blog. Everyone had business cards with their name and blog on them. Some gave out trinkets like cigarette lighters, suckers, and necklaces with little light up thingies on them. Lots of different things. There were sponsors of all kinds, from KY lube, to Sprout TV.

Why, you may ask, would I go to such a place? I went with Crystal, for moral support, company, and to help her promote her blog. She is in the midst of some really good stuff happening and there were a few people there directly related to said stuff happening. You get to rub elbows with some of the biggest women bloggers out there. It was very nice to see how very normal and willing to talk all of them were. Well, except for one, which I won't mention, because she apparently likes to cut people off at the knees for negative comments.

The other reason she went was because she was asked to speak on a panel discussing parenting and privacy issues in regards to blogging. The 3 other women on the panel do not use the real names of their children, nor do they show pictures of them. Crystal, of course, does.

Instead of making one, very long post, I will probably make it into a few. Everyone has asked me how my trip was and I just look at them like a teenager in love. Where do I begin? I don't have the words to describe. I am hoping maybe I can write better than I have spoken about it. Also, maybe by writing about it a day at a time will help me to sort out everything in my mind, instead of if being all jumbled up into one awesome experience. Bonus: I have a fresh, written account of it all. I won't remember details forever.

Not My Usual

I received something from my dad yesterday not knowing how very much it would affect me. I got a binder full of letters that his brother, Patsey Gene Parker, had written home from the Korean war. Also in there were a few that my grandmother had written him.

His letters begin in February 1953. Some of his first letters come from Fort Jackson, South Carolina. I believe from there he went to Dallas and then San Francisco. Once he arrives in Korea he was assigned to K Company of the 180th Infantry Regiment, 45th Division. He writes about every two days, without fail.

He usually would end the letters with a little note on the bottom telling everyone hi. Sometimes he would tell his mom to specifically tell his brother (my dad, Stevie they would call him) hi. My dad was 3, almost 4 years old. In one particular note at the bottom he told his mom to tell Stevie to keep his knife for him and that he would get a bigger one when he was older. My dad still has that knife.

As you read on, there are talks of the war possibly ending. He is doubtful, but hopeful. In Korea, I believe he spent most of his time in a place called Sandbag Castle. He says they are on one side of this huge hill and the Koreans are on the other. There is little fighting, if any. Mostly he writes about how he lays around and that there isn't much to do.

There are a few article in The Commercial Appeal about him. A reporter talks about how when he met him he was scared to death but the picture of him showed the biggest grin. At the time the reporter was there my uncle was reading letters he had received from home.

The last letter in the binder from him is dated July 13th, 1953. He says it is raining and cold and not to worry that he hasn't written in a bit. They are in a place called Christmas Hill now. He sent some money home and told his mom to use it if she needed it.

The next letter in the binder is from my grandmother to him. It is dated July 10th. She tells him to be a real good boy and worries he isn't getting enough to eat. She also tells him that once he is home he doesn't ever have to go away again unless he wants to. She hopes he is home by Christmas. That was one of the first letters that the envelope was marked "Return to Sender." My uncle's name and address were marked through and stamped over it were the words VERIFIED MISSING IN ACTION.

There are others dated July 13th, then the 16th. One was written on the 27th which I am guessing is when they announced that the peace treaty was signed. She is so happy and doesn't believe he will be in much danger now. Her last letter was written on the 31st and she asks him to write her because she hasn't heard from him since the 13th. Tomorrow is her birthday and all she wants is a letter from him. She says she won't worry and hopes to hear from him with a letter dated after the 27th.

There is also a letter from his sister dated July 30th. She asks him in the letter why he won't write mother every day. Says she is worried about him. I believe that my aunt was 7 years old at the time.

The next letter is dated August 3, 1953 and reports that my uncle was officially listed as Missing In Action since July 14th. Hope arrives in a letter from a soldier that my uncle was fighting with. My grandmother had written to this man after Gene was missing. This man wrote to her and said that after the fight that he apparently went missing in , they gathered all the wounded and dead and Gene was not one of them. They thought he was captured.

My grandmother writes a letter on October 2 to the United Nations Commander regarding the whereabouts of her son. The return letter comes November 3 that there is no new information regarding her son.

A letter dated March 25, 1954 states that my uncle was killed in action in Korea, date unreported. He was 21 years old. The next letter, dated April 1, states that his remains were recovered near Pan-Gol, North Korea, on November 6, 1953. The Colonel regrets that the information was not furnished earlier but a definite identification had to be made.

He was awarded the Silver Star and it was presented to his father in a ceremony.

I have grown up hearing very little of my Uncle Gene. My father doesn't remember him, as he was only 3 when he left for the war. My aunts would get visibly upset when his name was mentioned so I never really questioned much.

The letters offered an insight that I have never had. They made him a real person. Those letters that were written home by him showed a loving and dedicated son. I wish that I could have known him. As I read these letters and then the letters written by my grandmother to him, unknowingly, after his death, I was filled with such emotion that I couldn't explain. The anguish that must have been felt for months, not knowing if he was alive or dead, had to have been excruciating.

I was close to my grandmother growing up and she could never talk of him either. I hurt for her reading those letters. I guess because I have a son and can not wrap my mind around sending my baby off to a place that I know he might not come back from. Trying to keep up hope, and looking forward to every single letter. Then, getting that twinge of despair the first time it was too long between them. You can tell, as the days pass in her letters, she is trying desperately not to give up.

I have watched many war movies and documentaries in my life time but they didn't quite seem real at the time. I know that as long as people are on this earth there will be war. There will be death and there will be numerous families that must go through this. I can only hope that those of us that benefit every day from the sacrifices of those men and women and their families don't ever take it for granted.

No More Plate Clean Up

Plate clean up for me is not what you would think. One would assume that as a mom, I am referring to my kids cleaning their plates off when they are done eating. Not so for me. After my kids have eaten I will often snatch a bite or two of whatever is left on their plate then throw the rest in the trash. It's sometimes like a little buffet line. Or sometimes I will pretend I'm at a party and their little primary colored plastic plates are really trays of some fine Hors d'oeuvres.

"Oh, thank you. Yes, I'll have a chicken nugget."

"Why of course. I would love a leftover bite of Hamburger Helper."

"Macaroni and cheese? My favorite!"

Anyways, today selection consisted of frozen pizza. I get the Freschetta four cheese pizza. Let me say that for frozen pizza, this is the best I have had. The crust has garlic butter on it and the entire pizza is covered in cheese. Actually covered. This is not the kind where they just sprinkle a little cheese over the middle and you can still see the sauce underneath.

I hadn't eaten yet and I went to the kitchen to see what I would fix. My kids generally don't eat the crust off their pizza and the crust on this pizza is so very good. I picked Colin's plate, because he had a little cheese left. Bonus!

Big mistake. Colin, as of late, has this thing where he either dunks his food in his drink, or he pours his drink on his plate of food. I have never caught him in the act, but chicken generally does not turn Kool-Aid purple by itself after sitting on a plate.

I of course, in my ravenous state forgot this. I picked up the crust and started munching. "Hmm.... why does this pizza have a very slight sweet taste to it, and, OH MY GOD, he dunked it in his chocolate milk."

When, when will I learn.

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By the way, I went to freakin San Francisco this weekend!!! I am still trying to collect my thoughts and get my husband to show me how to post pictures. There is just too much to say about it. Details coming soon.

One little nugget I will share. That picture of Gilda Radner up there on the top, yeah, that's what my hair looked like the entire weekend!

Tagged

For you, Brandon.

1. Pick up the nearest book of 123 pages or more. No cheating!
2. Find page 123.
3. Find the first five sentences.
4. Post the next three sentences.
5. Tag five people.

There were sounds of kicking and plunging. A stick flew into the air. Then a flat, wet clod of dead leaves shot clean through the gap and landed clear of the hedge, close to Hazel.

B, I bet you are the only one who will know what book that was from. There were soooo many books but this one was technically nearest the computer.

If anyone wants to play, let me know in comments. I don't personally know 5 people.

Catching Up

Ok, for you Tweaker, here is your meme.

1. Write your own six word memoire.

2. Post it on your blog and include a visual illustration if you want.

3. Link to the person that tagged you in your post and to the original post if possible so we can track it as it travels across the blogosphere.

4. Tag at least five more blogs with links.

5. Leave a comment on the tagged blogs with an invitation to play..


Forever Wife, Mother, Daughter, Sister, Friend

I can not post a picture to save my life. If any of the 2 people that read this want to play just tell me in comments so I can come look.

Didn't You Know? Nipples Are Dangerous Weapons

My husband e-mailed this article to me Friday. I was completely outraged. Why in the world was this woman made to remove her nipple rings? It's completely absurd. Finding out the cause of a hand wand going off, sure. Once it was evident that the rings were the cause, what was the point in removing them?

I work for FedEx and I have my tongue pierced as well as my left nipple and have never set off the alarm at work. They have even used the wand, and luckily I have never set the thing off. I honestly didn't think there was enough metal to detect. I guess I was wrong, or the airport detectors are a lot stronger than the ones at work.

I don't believe I have flown since I got my piercings, but now I don't know that I will. You know what, I take that back. If I got singled out and that wand went off on me, I would just start stripping my shirt and bra off. "You want to see if I'm hiding a bomb under my tits? Well here you go!" That, or something like this, maybe.

It's just sad that we have "rules" that people blindly follow, no matter how absurd, or how much they defy common sense. I truly do feel for that woman. It can be extremely painful to take the rings out and there is no way in hell I would do it with a pair of pliers.

There are people out there, I know, that have metal in their bodies for various reasons. Pins, plates, and such. When those set off metal detectors and the area is searched they have to assume you don't have anything else. No knives stuffed behind that metal knee cap. No bombs embedded into that metal pin inside your leg. What in the world did making that woman take those rings out accomplish, other than allowing a couple of dickheads to get off on a woman who has her nipples pierced? A visual inspection should have sufficed. Period.

The Other Part of Potty Training

As a mom you relish the thought of that wonderful day when you no longer have to change diapers. The day they finally "get it". You think it will never happen. You spend long amounts of time in the bathroom anxiously awaiting just a dribble in the potty so you can jump and down and make a very large production out of your child's bodily functions. Never again in their little lives will someone ever be so excited about their poop.

While the excitement of no more diapers is a grand thing, there still is one more little task to potty training. You must teach them to wipe. Seems simple enough. You would be mistaken.

This process lasts quite a little while. At first you do it yourself all the time. I mean, their little arms just aren't long enough to adequately get the job done. Not to mention, that if you give a three year old free reign over the toilet paper, you will have a stopped up toilet. Gradually you try to show them proper technique. With girls, off course, there is more "area" to be careful of. With the boy it's a matter of not getting poop on his little jewels or up his back. I'm not having much luck teaching him, I will be honest.

One particular morning I was awakened from a nap by the all too familiar, "Momma, I poop-ed." I write it this way because he emphasizes the ed. He says it like you would say phys ed, like it's two words. I, without thinking, and a little agitated at being woke up, tell him to wipe himself. I knew as soon as I said it that it wasn't a good idea just yet and got up to do the deed myself.

Later that same afternoon I was sitting outside and I hear giggles from Gracie and her friend. I ask her what is so funny, and she says, "Look."

I turn around to see Colin with a long stream of toilet paper in his hand, waving in the breeze. With his pants and underwear around his ankles, he hollers, "Momma, I wiped my butt!"

Oh, good Lord, he chooses now to listen to me. I guess you can't pick your moments.

Happy Birthday Sarah

Sarah B turned 5 years old today. Where has the time gone? It seems only a short time ago I was impatiently waiting for her to be born.

Sarah was 2 days late. That was the longest 2 days of my life. I was convinced at that point that I would be pregnant forever. In that line of thinking, I decided it would be perfectly ok to go see my sister at her work. They all loved to see Gracie and I was bored and aggravated at staying at the house.

We arrived at her workplace and while Gracie was visiting and my sister ate her lunch I sat down in her chair. I bent over to put my purse on the floor and felt a "pop"........then a gush. Oh, yes. My water had broken. This was at 12:30 in the afternoon.

My sister comes back to her desk, and a rather large puddle. She says, "Are you shitting me?" I said, "Well, I didn't pee in my pants, if that's what you are wondering." Time to go.

We gather some water proof pads, (she works in a Dr. office) and off we go. By the time we got to the car, contractions were very hard. All my sister kept saying was "Mandie, please don't have that baby in the car. Please wait til we get the hospital. You know I don't want to see that." I had Gracie with me and I was trying very hard not to scare her to death. Luckily she fell asleep on the way to the hospital.

I called Brandon and told him to come to the hospital NOW. He apparently had a car full of people with him for lunch and had to take them back to his office before he came to hospital. Knowing him, that was the scariest ride those poor people ever took.

We got to the hospital at about 1. I asked my sister to take Gracie to the waiting room. I knew this wouldn't be pretty. I had decided ahead of time that I would have Sarah naturally, no drugs, just like Gracie. The nurse came in and tried to start an IV for fluids, but was having no luck. She would just start to stick the needle in and a contraction would hit. I was most definitely not being still, so that took quite a bit of time.

Brandon finally came and I was so relieved and happy to see him. Before I knew it, I was pushing. She got to a certain point though and I lost all control. When I had Gracie, I don't think I pushed for maybe 10 minutes and she came rocketing out. Sarah was an entirely different experience. This hurt, BAD. I couldn't push her out. I would try, but she would just start to poke her little head out and I froze; back in she would go. I just wanted to cross my legs and forget the whole thing. Make it go away. The doctor was getting very frustrated at me, and I wanted them to just get her out. I didn't know how I was going to do this. I was scared.

I mustered everything in my body and gave it what I could and at 1:58 she was born. All 8 lbs and 2 oz of her. Roughly an hour and a half after my water had broken. That had to be some sort of record. Poor Sarah paid for it though, coming so quickly. Her little face was so bruised and she also had a broken clavicle. The pediatrician said it was fairly common but I couldn't help but blame myself. If I had just sucked it up and pushed her out maybe she wouldn't have been so banged up.

The guilt faded and time has marched on. She has paid me back in spades for her birth. She is stubborn, willful, and pushes my buttons. She is quite a tough little girl. She also has a spirit about her though. To end I will share a conversation she and her little brother had in the van this morning.

They were piling in the van to go to school, and Colin turns to Sarah and says, "Sarah you farted."

Sarah says very matter of fact, "Colin, no I didn't. It's my birthday. Birthday people don't fart."

My Weekend Vacation

Well, it came and went so very quickly. I had my spa vacation this weekend. I went here, and it was fabulous.

I started my weekend at about 3:30 on Friday afternoon. My dear mother-in-law came to watch the kids until Brandon came home so I could leave early. I had to drive to his work to swap vehicles so he would have the mom taxi for the weekend.

I checked into the hotel and it was like an out of body experience. Was I really doing this? Was this really happening? I didn't know what to do. Do I shop? Do I drive? Do I sleep? Do I watch dirty movies on HBO? There were none on by the way.

I was truly alone with my thoughts, feelings, my little chocolate donuts, a box of Rosemary and Olive Oil Triscuits and Dr. Pepper. All to myself. No little fingers grabbing at my food. No little voices interrupting me just before I take a bite, saying "Momma, I'm thirsty. Momma, can I have a bite? Momma, I'm hungry. Momma, can I play on the computer? MOMMA MOMMA MOMMA!!!!!"

It is still the season of Lent for us Catholics so no meat on Fridays for another week. My options were limited for dinner. I decided on a cheese pizza and crazy bread from Little Caesar's. It was delicious. I ate in my bed, I watched what I wanted on TV (still no dirty movies), and began to feel myself unwind. I also thought. A lot. It's amazing how much thinking you can do when you aren't interrupted. I mean, I got to actually COMPLETE thoughts. This nearly made my brain overload.

Of course we had storms that night. I was awakened at 4:00 am by the sound of thunder and the brightness of lightning. I flipped on the TV to make sure I wasn't about to be taken to Oz, and tried to doze back off. Wasn't happening. I forced myself to stay in bed til 6 then got up and colored my hair. What else is there to do at 6 am?

My spa appointment was at 9 but it was right down the street from the hotel. I arrived at 8:45 and thus began my spa day.

You arrive, and they direct you into this nice little bathroom with little wooden lockers to put your things in, including your clothes. Yep, they want you nekked in a robe and slippers. It is supposed to make you comfortable while you "enjoy your day at the spa." All fine and good except that when you go into the quiet room to await your treatment, you are sitting there in a robe and slippers with complete strangers. I was constantly readjusting, and grasping at my robe, making sure nothing was hanging out. Not the most relaxing way to start your day. I guess that's why they offered me wine at 9 in the morning.

First the massage. Wow! It wasn't at all what I expected. This woman really knew her stuff. It wasn't so much kneading on me as it was pressure. Her hands were very soft, but strong. She knew exactly the points on my back and neck that needed what kind of pressure. I have never had a professional massage and this was heaven. I would highly recommend it.

On to the facial. Not the best half hour at the spa. She started out rubbing this "scent" (and I use that term loosely) on her hands and asked me to inhale slowly and then breathe out. This shit stunk. It was meant to relax me but all I could think about was "Where is the cat and what corner did he piss in?" It was that bad. Some of the creams were nice, and they did make my face very soft and hydrated. I think I will skip that next time and get an extra half hour on the massage instead.

On to the pedicure. She helped me to pick out my color and then I was lead to a chair that felt more like a throne. I was seated well above her with a little bath to stick my feet in. She began working on my feet. She rubbed and massaged my feet. She took this stone out and rubbed all the rough spots off. My feet were so soft and relaxed. This was awesome, except there happened to be a woman sitting beside me also getting a pedicure and she would not shut the hell up. She talked the entire time I was there. She was one of those that loved to toot her own horn, so to speak. She was an elementary school teacher and let me tell you, she was the BEST school teacher EVER. Her kids behaved the best, and they learned the most, and she taught the best. Blah, blah, blah, blah.

Last but not least, was the manicure. I got life lessons on eating, exercising, pesticides in your food, and a distilled water and sea salt mixture that will make you have the best shit of your entire life. She swore this to me. If you want the specific measurements, please e-mail and I will gladly tell you.

I left the spa that day feeling refreshed, educated, and so very glad I had the experience. I can't wait til next year.

I Got Nothin

What a boring week! Nothing going on here. Not a single thing. I am desperately trying to hang on to my sanity until my weekend getaway.

Spring break is this week so I have all three at home 24/7. Gracie tends to bug the ever loving shit out of Sarah and Colin so I have that added fun. She knows their little buttons and she pushes them constantly. I am always having to intervene between her and one or the other.

Colin has turned into quite the little computer player. My husband has Super Mario Brothers on the computer and he has already mastered the first two levels. He is definitely not the outdoors type. We went to the park today and after about 10 minutes he was ready to go back home and play his games.

Sarah is getting in trouble constantly. She seems to be going through a phase where she just doesn't want to listen and is, I think, trying to get into trouble. I'm not sure how to handle her right now. She is so stubborn. I'm trying to be consistent but that child is trying me.

I hope to go back to work next Monday. I have my last physical therapy appointment on Thursday and then back to the Dr. on Friday.

My mood is improving due to the fantastic weather we are having here. I love, love, love this time of year. It rejuvenates me to be able to go out on the porch and have the sun in my face, burning slightly. Listening to the sounds of spring puts me in another place. The birds singing, a lawnmower, the kids outside playing, there is something comforting in a way about them.

Maybe more next time.

PT

I went to my first physical therapy appointment yesterday. I didn't really know what to expect. I had only been once before, and that was my senior year in high school after ankle surgery. That was not a pleasant experience, as I recall.

After lots and lots of paperwork we got started. She had me to get on a stationary bike for 10 minutes. No big deal, right? Wrong! I never thought that a bike seat could be comfortable or uncomfortable. This thing was downright painful.

Folks, I don't have a bony butt but this seat made it feel like I was sitting directly on my butt bone. I could not get comfortable and with every passing minute I knew I would pay for it later. Sure enough, this morning it hurts to sit down.

The other exercises were quite mild. Nothing painful. Leg lifts, and some twisting and turning. Then the end. The glorious end when I got to relax on a nicely heated pad with little electrodes on my back.

I had heard of these things before but never had it done. They put these little stickers on the area to be worked on with little wires attached to them, and hook it up to a machine. She told me to lay down, get comfortable and let her know when I felt it start to tingle.

Tingle? What in the.....Oh. Let me tell you it is a strange sensation that I can not put into words. The muscles under those little pads get to jumping and they adjust the machine to the intensity that you prefer. I asked her how I would know when enough is enough. She simply said "You know."

She was right. Too much, and I nearly jumped off the table. My back is super, super, ticklish. My husband can think about tickling my back and I shudder.

She got it just right, and for 15 minutes I was in heaven. My feet propped up, my back on heat, nothing to do but relax.

I want to move in there.

Vacation, Mommy Style

Folks, I am counting down the days until my vacation. This will be a truly monumental day for me. I am going on vacation. Alone. Not with my husband, not with kids, not even with a friend. All by my lonesome. I know what you are thinking. "What did she have to do to get her husband to go along with this?" Truth is, he is actually encouraging me to go, and even spend money. I love you B!!

This will not be a traditional vacation. It started out as such though. I was going to go to Hot Springs and spend a few days at a spa. I waited too late though and all the hotels and spas were booked solid for quite a few weeks to come. I also got to thinking. I have never spent a night alone, actually alone, in my entire life. I went straight from my parents house to marriage. Brandon didn't have a job that required travel until after we had kids.

I also didn't really like the idea of being in unfamiliar territory by myself. I had visions of driving in circles for hours looking for my hotel after a run to Wal-Mart for some Dr. Pepper and lots of salty and sweet treats. Having to call Brandon from 3 hours away crying because I was lost was not an image I was crazy about. What can I say, I like familiar and safe.

In light of all that, I decided to check out local spas. I found one, with a hotel right down the street from it. It offers all the things that the spas in Hot Springs offered and I wouldn't be out of element so to speak. I will check in on a Friday, after Brandon gets home from work (unless I can talk someone into babysitting until he gets home), go to the spa on Saturday, spend another night in the hotel, and come home Sunday.

It's been a very needed weekend for a very long time. I hope to come back in a better frame of mind, a little more relaxed, and ready to tackle daily life again.

"If You're Climbing Up a Ladder, and You Feel Something Splatter......."

You know how much I love my children, right? I mean I wouldn't trade any one them for all the money in the world. Except for days like today.

I was all prepared and ready to go to my first physical therapy appointment this morning. I was actually just ready to walk out the door to take Colin next door and leave and then the most vile, nauseous, disgusting, thing to ever happen to me as a mother, happened. Wouldn't you know it was Colin.

Rewind about 10 minutes. He is fussing and whining about his stomach. He hasn't felt up to par the past couple of days and I thought he was better but he had this "look" about him. Call it a mother's intuition, but I knew something was happening and he wasn't quite right. Sure enough, I sat him down and he blasted a truly man-sized explosion into the toilet. All better. Or so I thought.

The vile part? Hahahahahaha! I wish.

I called my neighbor, called the physical therapy people, and rescheduled, because I knew my neighbor didn't want any part of a stomach bug. I settled down for a mid-morning snack and he was on the computer. He comes into the den with "that look" again and I tell him to quickly get to the bathroom. Again with this "thinking " thing I'm doing...........I thought he was ok.

He toddles out of the bathroom, underwear around his ankles, and says he pooped on the floor. Great. Not the first time this has happened. Not pleasant, but not the end of the world.

What I walked into can only be described as the anti-Christ in liquid poop form. That child had splatted all over the back of the toilet, onto the cabinet beside the toilet, on the effing wall behind the toilet, and of course, all on the floor in the little 8 inch gap between the toilet and the cabinet.

How in the Hell did he manage that? I was truly flabbergasted. I bathed him and proceeded to clean up the mess. I sprayed so much pine-sol I think I have permanently damaged my esophagus from the fumes.

Alright, back to normal.

Nope, not a chance.

He did it again. Twenty minutes later.

I mean the exact spray pattern as before. It was then I figured out how he did it. He likes to squat over the toilet. Like, if you are squatting in the grass. He does this on the toilet. I have seen this. I have caught him sitting up there, perched like a little bird. Up until now, aim has not been a problem. It basically drops right in. Given that he had, oh I would say, about ten pounds of pressure behind this one, well, hence my story.

Field Trip

Today was field trip day for Sarah's preschool class. We went to the Children's Museum. It is a huge building full of all kinds of educational stations, learning experiences and nooks and crannies to hide in, behind, and under.

We got there and there was a bus parked in front. Not a good sign. We walk in and it is complete chaos. There are kids everywhere in bright, neon, colored shirts sporting what school they attended. Ours happened to be bright green, except Colin who wore his orange shirt that says appropriately, "TROUBLE" across the front.

We decided to start at the back of the museum and let the entrance part die down a bit. They were quite content running up and down stairs, going into the mock FedEx airplane and sliding down the big slide. This went on for a while and we started seeing kids making their way through already to the end, so we decided to start our tour.

Mistake number one. It was still so very crowded you couldn't step to the side, front or back without bumping into someone. Normally crowds don't bother me. This was more than a crowd though, and I had two kids full of energy and lots of things to catch their attention. I would eye one, but to do that I had to take my eyes off the other. It only took a split second.

Colin was gone. I didn't panic, at first. I knew he had to be close, it had only been a second since I had eyes on him. I looked in and out of the different exhibits, one after the other. After making a complete round I steadied myself and made a last look at where Sarah was. He usually follows her. I had a friend with me with her little boy who was watching Sarah while I looked for Colin, by the way.

I decided it was time for help. I found the nearest employee and I was ok until I had to mutter the words, "My little boy is lost." I felt a huge lump in my throat form. To his credit he immediately got on a radio and issued a "Code Purple". Oh God, my child was a code. I felt like everyone and everything was going in slow motion. My heart started beating incredibly fast and I felt like my legs just weren't moving fast enough. We both were looking, and after what seemed like an eternity, I looked up and there he was. He was in, what I can only describe as, a giant, kid sized, hamster cage. This thing went up for at least 3 stories. He was having a ball, completely unaware of the goings on below.

Anyone else think that LoJacks for kids are a good idea?

I See Dead People, and a Neurosurgeon

So today was the appointment with the neurosurgeon. This said appointment was at 8:00 a.m. downtown, and also was in the company of my two little ones. Oh yes, Sarah and Colin were going with me. I had no babysitter. My husband had to stay home to get Gracie ready and off to school.

On the way to the appointment we happen to pass by a huge cemetery and Sarah exclaims "That's where every one gets killed."

"No, hon, that's where people are buried."

"Oh. I saw somebody die." She almost proudly exclaims.

I am stunned at first but then I remember who I am talking to. Sarah has one of the most vivid imaginations of any 4 year old I know. I let her tell her story.

I said "When did you see someone die?"

"Well, me and Jacob (her very best friend) were in San Francisco and we saw this man."

"San Francisco, huh?"

"Yeah, and we saw this man and we called him Daddy. Not my Daddy, but we called him Daddy and he was about 100 years old and he died."

That was all. End of story. I'm just glad she didn't say he was in the car with us or anything. I was fully expecting the "I see dead people" line at any moment.

Anyways, we get to the appointment actually on time and after many fights over pushing the various elevator buttons we get to the office.

The have these balls of what looks like to me is hardened grass. They were perfectly round and sitting in a nice glass bowl on top of very nice table. My children were drawn to these darn things like flies to shit. They would not leave these things alone. Sarah began hoarding the things, trying to stuff them down her shirt and Colin just thought they were baseballs.

So began - "Stop that. Don't touch that. Put that down. If you don't sit down I'm getting the paddle. Stop running. No, you can't have one. No, you can't ring the bell. STOP ringing the bell. No, I don't know how old that lady is. No, you can't ask. I don't know his name. No he would not like one the balls off the table."

Finally they called us back. More waiting, more threatening and then the doctor came in. Basically I get to have physical therapy for two weeks and come back to seem him after. Thank God, no surgery.

Anyone free in two weeks to watch a lovely 3 year old little boy and darling 4 year old little girl? I'll ship them to you, free of charge.

Day In The Life

Yes, another day lost. I think I might have been unrealistic in my goal of posting every day for two weeks. I mean, lets face it, I don't have that interesting a life. Yesterday was no exception.

2:00 a.m.- Colin wakes wakes up and wants to sleep in the bed with me.

6:45 a.m.- Colin wakes up again and is, of course, immediately hungry.

6:46 a.m. - Colin says, " Can I play Nick Jr.?" I say no. He says "I not your friend anymore."

7:00 a.m. - Feeding the bottomless pit that is my son's stomach. "Can I play Nick Jr.?" No again. "You mean momma."

7:30 a.m. to 8:45 a.m. - Getting the two girls dressed, fed, ready for school.

By 9 I was out the door, headed for the grocery store. With Colin by himself, he is pretty manageable. He doesn't even require the use of the basket anymore. He will walk beside me, only straying occasionally. Unlike Sarah, who will make two laps around Wal-Mart in the span of a minute and a half.

After the grocery store it was more of "Can I play Nick Jr. Can I play crash car game. I not your friend. You mean."

On to lunch with a friend which went rather well. Everyone behaved and ate well. I got them toys out of the little 50 cent machine and Colin decided to throw a fit about the color he got. Not just a little one. He screamed and stomped his foot, the whole routine. I then threw his toy in the trash. He cried a cry I have yet to hear out of him. He was heartbroken. I felt guilty as hell and my friend reminded me that was why they had that cry, to make you feel guilty and cave. That was a hard one. Hopefully, now, he will remember this and next time when I threaten, he will believe me and stop the fit throwing.

I put him to bed for a nap and after he calmed down he crawled up in my lap and said "I like you Momma." When he does this he takes his little hands and puts them on my cheeks and looks directly into my eyes. I melt.

Finally got a call about an appointment for the neurosurgeon. Not looking forward to that appointment. Till next time.....

La Cucaracha

Well, it's Sunday. Not much going here. I'm trying to think of things that happened over the 2 months that I didn't post, and I can't come up with anything. I know my kids have done things that I wish I had written down. I guess I could share with you a story that I believe shaped my hatred of the one bug that I believe has no purpose, whatsoever, except to creep the ever loving hell out of me.

The cockroach. Not those little kitchen things that get in your cabinets. No sir, I am talking about the big brown bastards that I firmly believe mutate in the sewers we have here in the South. They have wings for Christ's sake. As if having them crawling around wasn't bad enough, they have to have wings for those aerial assaults. Like the one I am about to share with you.

I was about 11 or 12 and was in the shower. I was happily washing my hair, minding my own business, when out of the corner of my eye I caught movement. I tried my hardest to convince myself I was imagining things, but I looked harder and there he was, looking down at me from the rod the shower curtain was hanging on. I froze. I felt as if I were in an old western movie, getting ready for a shoot out. I was staring at him, he was staring at me.

Cue: "The Ecstasy of Gold"

My hair was completely bubbled up from shampoo. I didn't want to take my eyes of him for fear of losing him. I stepped back and as gently as possible began rinsing the shampoo out of my hair without closing my eyes. Try THAT sometime. My eyes stung, but I was not taking them off that thing. Then it happened.

It plays over in slow motion in my mind, when in reality I know it took all of a tenth of a second to play out. He dive-bombed me. He leaped off that rod and headed straight for me. I believe my family probably thought I was being murdered in the shower. I screamed and was out of that shower with shampoo dripping down my face and my towel barely wrapped around me.

I have other stories about those horrid creatures. Is that sad? That, I must say, is probably one of the only complaints of my childhood. Maybe when I am out of material again I will share another one. Then again, maybe not. Who wants to hear of a poor girl being traumatized by an insect.

Hey, that sounds like a good B movie.

Getting Old Sucks

Well, crap. I missed a day already. I even had something to post about, but time got away from me. I went to the Dr. today to find out about the results from my MRI. Oh, I guess I didn't write about that.

I hurt my back at work about a month ago at work. I have never had back trouble in my entire life. I bent over to pick up a box and if felt like my back was being torn in two. I couldn't move. I laid over the box with my ass in the air crying helplessly. The thought of moving, actually having to stand up was, at the time, like asking me to cut off my own leg. The thought was unimaginable. I went by ambulance to the hospital and was sent home saying to see my primary care doctor.

After numerous visits to the doctor they finally decided to check out my back in a little more detail by ordering an MRI. The results: I have a protruding disc. I now get to go to a neurosurgeon to determine if it needs to be fixed by surgery. Of course, I am praying not, but my job requires me to lift very heavy boxes so I am kind of in a bind. Do I get surgery, fix it, and go about my business? Will the surgery fix it? Do I wait, maybe hurt it again, possibly worse than the first time, then be out of work for forever again? They are talking possible physical therapy and maybe a nerve block. I have lots of questions to be answered by the neuro guy.

It has been too soon since my lung surgery last year about this time to be thinking about having surgery again. That was such a painful ordeal, it still hurts to think about it. I'm trying not to borrow trouble, as my mom would say, but I'm worried.

As Scarlett would say, "I can't think about that right now. If I do, I'll go crazy. I'll think about that tomorrow."

Little Soldier Boy

So, it's been longer this time than last and I won't go into boring details. I have set a short goal. I am going to attempt to blog every day for 2 weeks. I was going to scrap the whole blog thing but at my husband's insistence I have decided to give it another go. I will start this thing off with one of the funniest, if not THE funniest things I have ever written about. I hope I can put it into words clearly enough to convey, but if not, I'm sorry for my lack of talent. It was still damn funny.

My dear, only, son Colin is now 3. We have just recently, about a month ago, gotten rid of diapers and are now wearing "big boy underwear." Funny, I say "we". Mom's do that a lot. We tend to take some credit for all our children's feats. "We" learned to ride a bike, "we" ate all our veggies at supper today, "we" cleaned our room today. I say "we" until he does something horribly bad then it's all on him. No shared blame then, he gets hung out to dry.

Anyways, back to the story. Since he has graduated to underwear it has provided him with much better access to his, umm, happy place shall we say. Now, I am no prude and I know that little boys will grab themselves whenever, and wherever possible. I try to ignore it and tell him not to do it in public. I, however was not prepared for what happens when he actually gets really happy playing with it.

He was in the chair playing with the Leapster, proudly sporting his new tidy whities, and I noticed that the game stopped making it's usual blips and bleeps. I looked over, and there was Colin, with his little soldier at full attention. I was mortified as he had the biggest grin on his face I have ever seen. He then proceeds to hit it a couple of times, laughing as it stayed put. My husband noticed what was going on and I swear I thought he would have a heart attack for laughing so hard. Oh, did I mention that his parents were over at the time? I felt my face burning with embarrassment and I excused myself from the room. At this time I heard some reassuring words from my dear mother-in-law, "Well, at least we know it works!"

Happy Anniversary

A little late, but I think it noteworthy to say that my husband and I celebrated our 14th wedding anniversary on January 1.

Not bad for high school sweethearts. I just wish we knew then what we know now. Things might have been easier but then again, learning things the hard way seems to be the best way to not forget.

My husband was and is my first and only love. I have known him now for 17 years. Meeting when I was just 14 years old, I couldn't have imagined what was to come. Knowing someone for that long is an amazing and interesting thing. I can't remember my life before him and I don't want to imagine my life without him. He has given me three beautiful children and a lifetime of memories already. He has been a constant in my life when other things weren't.

Thank you for 14 years of loving me. I love you B.

Holidays

So.....if I just pretend that it hasn't been over a month since I last posted, could we just skip the part that says I suck, and the part that says I didn't stick to it, and the part that says my life has been chaos. I can? Good.

Moving on. Holidays were great. Went to Texas to be with my brother-in-law, his wife and little girl. We had a fantastic time. Kids got lots for Christmas and had a blast playing with their uncle's new Wii. I know where our next available $250 will be going. If I can swing it, I must post a video of my 4 year old, Sarah, bowling on this thing. Too funny! She would swing her arm and then when she would let go of the "ball" she did this little kick with her foot. I giggled every time she did it. Gracie, apparently will be the next Laila Ali. She took down like 10 guys in the boxing game.

Of course it wouldn't be Christmas without a little "Gerard Factor." Gracie got a digital camera/camcorder for Christmas and it was DOA. We put 2 different sets of batteries in it, and nothing. We ended up having to go to Circuit City to buy a new one the day after Christmas.

Hubby got me a new camcorder and surprised me with a #10 Titans jersey. Go Titans!!!! Sidenote: We made it to the play-offs, hope we kick the Chargers asses this weekend. Go Titans!!!.

I also learned that you can't get away from your problems, even if you are 800 miles away from them. They have cell phones, and they have your number.