Jesus is our life! ~ VBS 2006
Yes, I am too tired to search for any other quote so I decided to use one of the phrases I rattled off numerous times during VBS. In reality, I have been thoroughly consumed with Bible School this week. It was bigger than I imagined! Overall we enrolled 91 children as participants. We had over 20 adult volunteers and over 20 "tween" and teen helpers. I am exhausted, but feel good about accomplishing this endeavor. I have plenty left to learn and much room for improvement, but that will come with time. I am dedicated to doing it again next year with some changes. I will ponder them over the course of the next year and see what we can to make VBS 2007 even better. It's late. My words are not coming easily and my fingers are not typing well. I have created a Power Point to show in church on Sunday to thank our congregation for all their love, support, and financial gifts. I think I have been on this computer for at least two hours so I am going to quit and go to bed. Thanks for "listening" to all these posts about VBS and all the votes of confidence. They all helped. By the way, Jazzy, I DID see that son of yours smile at VBS....I did avoid the Chadder room, though. I know that some of you who read this helped in some way and I CANNOT THANK YOU ENOUGH! From set-up, to daily assistance, to clean up...you are amazing!!! I will post a picture when I feel like using Explorer....Netscape won't let me add pictures OR spell check! Now off to bed to drift off to sleep thinking about the "wrapping up of loose ends". Hopefully sleep will rescue me quickly. Good night!
Friday, June 30, 2006
Monday, June 26, 2006
One Down....
It pays to plan ahead. It wasn't raining when Noah built the ark. ~ Unknown
Day one is done. A bounty of children showed up....more than expected, but close to what I had planned (even though most did not believe my estimates). We ran out of crafts for one group. We had only 2 cupcakes left over and I had asked for more than what I really thought we would need. I think everyone had fun. It amazes me to think that the previous director was able to walk in and leave for long periods of time each day. I felt like I was extinguishing small fires all morning. As crazy as it was, I am thankful for the large number of children that came. I hope the week continues to have a large number of attendees. I think I'm gonna take a nap....the filth of my home will still be here later, right?
Day one is done. A bounty of children showed up....more than expected, but close to what I had planned (even though most did not believe my estimates). We ran out of crafts for one group. We had only 2 cupcakes left over and I had asked for more than what I really thought we would need. I think everyone had fun. It amazes me to think that the previous director was able to walk in and leave for long periods of time each day. I felt like I was extinguishing small fires all morning. As crazy as it was, I am thankful for the large number of children that came. I hope the week continues to have a large number of attendees. I think I'm gonna take a nap....the filth of my home will still be here later, right?
Sunday, June 25, 2006
Ready or Not...
He who is well prepared has won half the battle. ~ Unknown
Tomorrow is the day....VBS begins! I have made list after list. Updated each list. Estimated the names and numbers of the children who will attend. Tried to figure out just how many of each snack supply we will need for each day (not knowing the number of kids we are going to have). Shopped. Decorated. Worried. Basically, I have won half the battle because I don't think I could be ANY more prepared. The decorations are done. The sanctuary looks gorgeous...the youth and their leader did a fantastic job. The other rooms look good, too. The story room is not as elaborate as the manual suggests, but that just leaves room for improvement next year OR it challenges the children to use their imaginations (I'll go with the latter). I am so thankful for all the help! Now I am going to bed so I can get enough rest for the other half of the battle. As I told one of the first-time station leaders after she expressed her anxiety about tomorrow, I was/am nervous too...I have never directed the VBS BUT I am positive that once it gets underway, it will all be great and there will be nothing left to worry about. The kids WILL have fun and the week will go well. :0) YAY for tomorrow! Ethel, the photographer, is taking pictures throughout the week so I will be sure to post some. :0)
Tomorrow is the day....VBS begins! I have made list after list. Updated each list. Estimated the names and numbers of the children who will attend. Tried to figure out just how many of each snack supply we will need for each day (not knowing the number of kids we are going to have). Shopped. Decorated. Worried. Basically, I have won half the battle because I don't think I could be ANY more prepared. The decorations are done. The sanctuary looks gorgeous...the youth and their leader did a fantastic job. The other rooms look good, too. The story room is not as elaborate as the manual suggests, but that just leaves room for improvement next year OR it challenges the children to use their imaginations (I'll go with the latter). I am so thankful for all the help! Now I am going to bed so I can get enough rest for the other half of the battle. As I told one of the first-time station leaders after she expressed her anxiety about tomorrow, I was/am nervous too...I have never directed the VBS BUT I am positive that once it gets underway, it will all be great and there will be nothing left to worry about. The kids WILL have fun and the week will go well. :0) YAY for tomorrow! Ethel, the photographer, is taking pictures throughout the week so I will be sure to post some. :0)
Monday, June 19, 2006
Eureka!
You never will be the person you can be if pressure, tension and discipline are taken out of your life. ~James G. Bilkey
Here it is...the quote that defines my life. When I sit down to blog, I always search for the perfect quote to exemplify my feelings, thoughts, rants, etc. Tonight as I sat down to compose, I searched for quotes about slackers. I could find next to nothing and what I did find was junk. Next I moved to the topic of stress. Here is where I hit the motherlode. Most of what I found, though, spoke poorly of stress.....some drivel about there not being stress in nature and stress being some type of defect. Of course I'm not going to stand for THAT! Like I'm going to view stress as something negative when it is part of my essence. On I trudged until I found this gem....my new mantra...my explanation for my type-A personality ("A" standing for anal of course). I have been stressed from the moment my eyes popped open far too early this morning. At 6 AM I awoke having a horrific dream about Vacation Bible School....my new compulsion. I am a co-director this year. It officially begins one week from today. I am having to rely on a number of people with whom I have not worked before. I have not been able to get in touch with some of them. I don't know when we are setting up. What needs to be bought. What decorations are complete. Who is in charge of each crew. With so many unknowns, I am almost in hives and have had a headache ALL day. I am not sure if the headache is hormonal, stress-related, or (even better) related to my wretched ear. I was just noticing the other day that the daily sloshing of fluid was now absent. Guess what?! I "spoke" too soon! All day I've heard it whenever I've bent down to pick something up. YAY! Maybe it will get infected and burst again! JOY! To compensate for the plethora of unknown factors, I have typed informational letters for each station-leader, typed up the schedule, made door hangers/fliers for the children in the village, written lists, tried to hunt down books, delivered a packet, created a certificate, updated the supply list with volunteer suppliers, and made a shopping list in Excel. I came within millimeters of creating a VBS Blog. All these loose ends HAVE to come together soon or I am going to completely freak out. As I sit here griping, and I guess this is how He tends to work, one of the really old VBS songs has popped into my head..."Cast your burdens
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
There Go My Babies
How did it get so late so soon? It's night before it's afternoon. December is here before it is June. My goodness how the time has flewn. How did it get so late so soon? ~ Dr. Seuss
Just yesterday these children were giggling and sword fighting on a second grade field trip and now they are high school graduates! I am absolutely amazed at how quickly time has passed and how much has changed. Technically, my first class graduated two years ago...but that was from the first school where I taught. I lost touch with all of those children...except for the ones I read about in the court section of the newspaper. This was my first class of students "from home". I have watched these children grow from children into adults. There will always be a connection between this group of children and myself. I don't know if they realize how special they are to me since they are still neophytes when it comes to adult emotion. We spent the first two years of my CHS career learning together. I taught them and they certainly taught me. Daughter was born when I had this group of children. I fielded many a question about pregnancy and breastfeeding. I learned how to deal with children pulling down their pants in class. And those are just two small examples! Before the ceremony on Saturday night I wrote a personal note to all of my graduating "babies" and passed each one a card right before they entered the gym. One hugged me and said, "You were always my favorite!" Wow! What a compliment considering the vast number of excellent teachers that student has encountered in her career. One boy I hadn't seen in forever was amazingly tall! He said, "I haven't seen you in so long!" All I could say was "I remember when I used to look down to talk to you!" I was so proud of each of them. Of course not all of the students in the picture graduated with the class...some have moved or were retained, but that's the way life goes. I was also extremely proud when the salutatorian and valedictorian were both former students. Even in second grade I knew they were going to be at the top of the class. It's amazing how that can be seen so early. I wish all the graduates much success in the future. Congratulations, class of 2006!
Friday, June 09, 2006
Crime Does Pay
And whether you're an honest man, or whether you're a thief,
Depends on whose solicitor has given me the brief. ~ Benjamin Franklin
Prior to commencing the wrath, I must warn you that I have had a terribly stressful and exhausting week that does not have an end in sight for many days. I will attempt to focus on the main purpose of ranting, but cannot promise that I will be able to stick to the topic at hand.
Yes, I understand that this is only fourth grade in my rural beach town and that it will probably look as though I am complaining because my kid did not receive the award that I am about to trash and in the grand scheme of things this will not matter to anyone ever. Having said that, I cannot get past it without publicly bitching about the situation. Yesterday was the 3rd-4th grade awards assembly. I was SO proud of Daughter for earning a medal for making Principal's List for the entire year! She missed it by ONE "B" last year! Many months ago Daughter's pencil pouch containing all of her writing and coloring tools was stolen. Daughter saw what resembled the pencil pouch in a friend's cubbie and asked the child (henceforth referred to as Mugsy) where she had gotten the pouch. Mugsy said that she had gotten it at home. My anal tendencies did not pay off in this situation since there was no tag on which to put Daughter's name so I had not placed her name anywhere on the pouch, fearing that the pouch would be ruined. Mugsy then wrote her own name on the pouch. Daughter recognized specific items in the pouch that we had purchased...especially the scented erasers. These were different than most of the other school supplies because we had purchased them the year before and had not used them because they did not match that year's color palette of supplies. We broke them out this year because even though they were "last season", they matched this year's colors. I would not have pursued it, but it was really bothering Daughter to know that someone had her stuff and was getting away with it. I knew that Mugsy's teacher had an obvious "soft spot" for her and a rather strong unfavorable feeling towards me. I knew I could not approach her about the problem. After discussing the situation with a friend, I finally broached the Pencil Pouch Problem with another 4th grade teacher, Secret Agent (she would be ideal for any CIA position or any position that required making people "come clean"). An unsuccessful sting operation was set up. Finally, Mugsy was approached by the Secret Agent and finally confessed to the crime. She crossed her name off the pencil pouch and sloppily wrote Daughter's name at least three times, in my opinion, ruining the pouch as it no longer looked neat...it looked like a piece of used crap. So, Mugsy not only stole...she also lied to a friend, lied to adults, and defaced property. Stellar.
Return now to the semi-present.....Thursday's award ceremony. Mugsy is in the homeroom of that "soft spot" teacher (like I'd give out any of her code names HERE). I see Mugsy's mom and dad (did I mention that Soft Spot had a serious dating relationship with Mugsy's dad?) at school for the awards assembly. As her name is called BY Soft Spot for the freakin' Citizenship Award of all things, all I could do was lean over and whisper, "Pencil pouch!" in Hubby's ear. Soft Spot spoke of her so eloquently...smiling face blah blah blah NEVER CATTY blah blah blah. Puke, wretch, barf, vomit - ugh! Did I expect my kid to get the Citizenship Award? No. Did I expect a thief to get the Citizenship Award? Hell, no! I had absolutely no objections to the other recipients....but c'mon! As I share this tale with others who know the story of the pencil pouch heist, they are astonished....that IS until I mention Mugsy's name. Then they know WHY that kid received the recognition. In fact, one teacher made the comment to another teacher before the assembly that she was willing to bet that Mugsy would get the award....just because of the Soft Spot situation!!!
Next year we are going to steal all of our school supplies from other students, deface them, and lie about where we got them. I want to guarantee that Daughter gets that award. But will that be good enough? Should we resort to physical violence? Should she bring a weapon to school and actually have a hold up? Please devise the perfect crime she could commit to bring home a gold in Citizenship. I guess we could always go and steal Mugsy's medal...we could always say that Daughter GOT the Citizenship Award, couldn't we?!
Depends on whose solicitor has given me the brief. ~ Benjamin Franklin
Prior to commencing the wrath, I must warn you that I have had a terribly stressful and exhausting week that does not have an end in sight for many days. I will attempt to focus on the main purpose of ranting, but cannot promise that I will be able to stick to the topic at hand.
Yes, I understand that this is only fourth grade in my rural beach town and that it will probably look as though I am complaining because my kid did not receive the award that I am about to trash and in the grand scheme of things this will not matter to anyone ever. Having said that, I cannot get past it without publicly bitching about the situation. Yesterday was the 3rd-4th grade awards assembly. I was SO proud of Daughter for earning a medal for making Principal's List for the entire year! She missed it by ONE "B" last year! Many months ago Daughter's pencil pouch containing all of her writing and coloring tools was stolen. Daughter saw what resembled the pencil pouch in a friend's cubbie and asked the child (henceforth referred to as Mugsy) where she had gotten the pouch. Mugsy said that she had gotten it at home. My anal tendencies did not pay off in this situation since there was no tag on which to put Daughter's name so I had not placed her name anywhere on the pouch, fearing that the pouch would be ruined. Mugsy then wrote her own name on the pouch. Daughter recognized specific items in the pouch that we had purchased...especially the scented erasers. These were different than most of the other school supplies because we had purchased them the year before and had not used them because they did not match that year's color palette of supplies. We broke them out this year because even though they were "last season", they matched this year's colors. I would not have pursued it, but it was really bothering Daughter to know that someone had her stuff and was getting away with it. I knew that Mugsy's teacher had an obvious "soft spot" for her and a rather strong unfavorable feeling towards me. I knew I could not approach her about the problem. After discussing the situation with a friend, I finally broached the Pencil Pouch Problem with another 4th grade teacher, Secret Agent (she would be ideal for any CIA position or any position that required making people "come clean"). An unsuccessful sting operation was set up. Finally, Mugsy was approached by the Secret Agent and finally confessed to the crime. She crossed her name off the pencil pouch and sloppily wrote Daughter's name at least three times, in my opinion, ruining the pouch as it no longer looked neat...it looked like a piece of used crap. So, Mugsy not only stole...she also lied to a friend, lied to adults, and defaced property. Stellar.
Return now to the semi-present.....Thursday's award ceremony. Mugsy is in the homeroom of that "soft spot" teacher (like I'd give out any of her code names HERE). I see Mugsy's mom and dad (did I mention that Soft Spot had a serious dating relationship with Mugsy's dad?) at school for the awards assembly. As her name is called BY Soft Spot for the freakin' Citizenship Award of all things, all I could do was lean over and whisper, "Pencil pouch!" in Hubby's ear. Soft Spot spoke of her so eloquently...smiling face blah blah blah NEVER CATTY blah blah blah. Puke, wretch, barf, vomit - ugh! Did I expect my kid to get the Citizenship Award? No. Did I expect a thief to get the Citizenship Award? Hell, no! I had absolutely no objections to the other recipients....but c'mon! As I share this tale with others who know the story of the pencil pouch heist, they are astonished....that IS until I mention Mugsy's name. Then they know WHY that kid received the recognition. In fact, one teacher made the comment to another teacher before the assembly that she was willing to bet that Mugsy would get the award....just because of the Soft Spot situation!!!
Next year we are going to steal all of our school supplies from other students, deface them, and lie about where we got them. I want to guarantee that Daughter gets that award. But will that be good enough? Should we resort to physical violence? Should she bring a weapon to school and actually have a hold up? Please devise the perfect crime she could commit to bring home a gold in Citizenship. I guess we could always go and steal Mugsy's medal...we could always say that Daughter GOT the Citizenship Award, couldn't we?!
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
Prayers & Blessings
Sisters function as safety nets in a chaotic world simply by being
there for each other.
Carol Saline, from "Sisters"
Of the many blessings I have received, one of the most special is the wonderful abundance of sisters-in-law that I am fortunate enough to have. Each one has her own special talents and is equally important to me. I know I do not show my gratitude enough. I feel it in my heart, but am definitely not as demonstrative as I should be. I hope that each one realizes how much I appreciate her and how much each one means to me.
After work today I made a point to leave early enough to enjoy a stroll on the beach with the children and the dog. On the first leg of the trip, the children and I laughed and giggled and made up new verses to the never-ending diarrhea song. Today's focus was on the dog since she had performed an act that brought the song to mind once more. One of the winners today was, "When it's nice and hot and you see the dog squat DIARRHEA! DIARRHEA!" Yeah, I know, Mom-of-the-Year material here. On the way back, each of us separated for a bit. I guess we all enjoy the solitude a good beach walk can provide. During my alone time, I was struck by the beauty of God's work. I also recalled the sermon our pastor had preached on Sunday. This is perhaps just a small tidbit of what he was trying to convey, but it's what jumped out at me on today's jaunt. He was comparing "church prayers"...the ones that were quite formal and spoken during the service....to our own personal prayers. He spoke of how his private prayers were more like little one-liners. He believed that God was able to interpret it all and make sense of it. I think this part of the service popped into my mind because moments before, without really realizing it, I had been praying. I was thinking about one of my sisters-in-law who is going through one of the most agonizing things I can even imagine: the terminal illness of her husband. It pains me to even write that t-word. I was asking for God's help. It wasn't a formal "church" prayer, but more like a mulling-things-over-in-my-mind kind of prayer. I feel extremely helpless. I want Him to help me help her. My mind and heart are filled with thoughts of her and Lemon-Pie Man and their family. She lived with us for about 9 months while her home was being repaired after Hurricane Isabel. During that time we had many chats....many of which involved issues I had dealing with the death of my mother. She always had the right words to say and always made me see things from a better perspective. She was even the one who told me in her lovingly blunt way months after Mom's death (before living with us) that I needed to get it together or "see someone". It wasn't until that moment that I realized that I had just been going through the motions of existence rather than living a life. While living together, we even discussed that moment. I know, as do many others, I have a revulsion to personal failure. Supporting my sister-in-law is a no-room-for-failure situation. I pray that God will give me the right words to say and enough strength to support my sister-in-law and her family. I pray that He will help me be more demonstrative in my love for all my family. I have faith that He will get us through yet another storm. As the stained glass window inscription Hubby's side of the family sponsored in the church says, "For the storms we weather." Together we weather many a storm. Even when storms brew amongst us, the love of God and the love that binds our family get us past the most difficult trials until we are once again lulled by the calm.
After work today I made a point to leave early enough to enjoy a stroll on the beach with the children and the dog. On the first leg of the trip, the children and I laughed and giggled and made up new verses to the never-ending diarrhea song. Today's focus was on the dog since she had performed an act that brought the song to mind once more. One of the winners today was, "When it's nice and hot and you see the dog squat DIARRHEA! DIARRHEA!" Yeah, I know, Mom-of-the-Year material here. On the way back, each of us separated for a bit. I guess we all enjoy the solitude a good beach walk can provide. During my alone time, I was struck by the beauty of God's work. I also recalled the sermon our pastor had preached on Sunday. This is perhaps just a small tidbit of what he was trying to convey, but it's what jumped out at me on today's jaunt. He was comparing "church prayers"...the ones that were quite formal and spoken during the service....to our own personal prayers. He spoke of how his private prayers were more like little one-liners. He believed that God was able to interpret it all and make sense of it. I think this part of the service popped into my mind because moments before, without really realizing it, I had been praying. I was thinking about one of my sisters-in-law who is going through one of the most agonizing things I can even imagine: the terminal illness of her husband. It pains me to even write that t-word. I was asking for God's help. It wasn't a formal "church" prayer, but more like a mulling-things-over-in-my-mind kind of prayer. I feel extremely helpless. I want Him to help me help her. My mind and heart are filled with thoughts of her and Lemon-Pie Man and their family. She lived with us for about 9 months while her home was being repaired after Hurricane Isabel. During that time we had many chats....many of which involved issues I had dealing with the death of my mother. She always had the right words to say and always made me see things from a better perspective. She was even the one who told me in her lovingly blunt way months after Mom's death (before living with us) that I needed to get it together or "see someone". It wasn't until that moment that I realized that I had just been going through the motions of existence rather than living a life. While living together, we even discussed that moment. I know, as do many others, I have a revulsion to personal failure. Supporting my sister-in-law is a no-room-for-failure situation. I pray that God will give me the right words to say and enough strength to support my sister-in-law and her family. I pray that He will help me be more demonstrative in my love for all my family. I have faith that He will get us through yet another storm. As the stained glass window inscription Hubby's side of the family sponsored in the church says, "For the storms we weather." Together we weather many a storm. Even when storms brew amongst us, the love of God and the love that binds our family get us past the most difficult trials until we are once again lulled by the calm.
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
Fourteen?!
Love does not consist of gazing at each other, but in looking together in the same direction. ~Antoine de Saint-Exupery
I truly believe in fate and destiny when I reflect on my relationship with Hubby. I met him while vacationing in the small beach community where we now live. It was, amazingly, the summer before I entered 8th grade. Even then, I knew there was some sort of connection between us. I have much more to write in honor of our 14th wedding anniversary, but I will edit those in later. I just felt the need to quickly acknowledge our special day first thing this morning. I wouldn't trade any of our times together. OK, so some of you have been privy to the complaints that have arisen over the course of our relationship. However, I would not trade those experiences because those have made us the people we are today and have molded our life. I love this guy more than I can ever express and could not imagine an existence without him. Until I have more time.....
I truly believe in fate and destiny when I reflect on my relationship with Hubby. I met him while vacationing in the small beach community where we now live. It was, amazingly, the summer before I entered 8th grade. Even then, I knew there was some sort of connection between us. I have much more to write in honor of our 14th wedding anniversary, but I will edit those in later. I just felt the need to quickly acknowledge our special day first thing this morning. I wouldn't trade any of our times together. OK, so some of you have been privy to the complaints that have arisen over the course of our relationship. However, I would not trade those experiences because those have made us the people we are today and have molded our life. I love this guy more than I can ever express and could not imagine an existence without him. Until I have more time.....
Saturday, May 13, 2006
The Gift
So, like a forgotten fire, a childhood can always flare up again within us. ~ Gaston Bachelard
A recent email enumerating characteristics of growing up in the (cough) 70's (cough) reminded me just how much I LOVED to watch Little House on the Prairie. My favorite items in my wardrobe at one time were the handmade dresses that resembled those worn by my idol, Laura Ingalls. They were fondly referred to as my "Laura dresses". At the time I thought they were so novel. Now, during my cynical adult years, I realize that these wardrobe essentials were more of a money-saver than anything else. It still doesn't matter. I loved each and every one of those things, made with the loving hands of either my mom or nanny (grandmother....not babysitter - I was wearing homemade dresses for goodness sake!). I was not the only fan of Little House. My circle of friends deemed the show as wonderful and so, to us in our sheltered world, it WAS, as they say now, "All that". Embarrassingly enough, our love for the show continued into our "tween" stage. This morning, as I lolled in bed recovering from the whirlwind shopping trip to Virginia I made after work with Luscious and Daughter after school yesterday (resulting in my 2 am arrival at home and thus little sleep BUT some new SMALLER clothes -smiling face), I lazily used the guide button on the remote to peruse my viewing options. There it was. My old friend from youth: Little House. Even better was the episode that brought us immense joy...the one where Albert (the adopted son of Charles and Caroline aka Laura's adopted brother) is addicted to morphine and goes through the DT's coming off it. A gem. This, if I recall correctly, was a special prime time episode...perhaps after the regular show was no longer weekly. Laura was grown and married to Almanzo. Charles and Albert were visiting Walnut Grove. Albert was a drug-crazed freak, stealing drugs and wild. Let me interrupt this tale with some background info. My mom was my Girl Scout leader for most of my years in the program. We basically had the same group of girls the entire time and these chicks were my best friends. Girl Scout camping trips, sleepovers, seances, GIGGLES, Little House, etc. (realigning with initial story) Well, unfortunately for my mom and the other leader, this episode aired right before an overnight trip to a house our council owned and let troops use in the winter for overnight trips. How these women stood it I will never know. During the episode, Albert goes through this whole scene where he is "coming off the morphine". The highlight is when he pukes (up front and personal - directly in front of the camera) a milky-white liquid. Fortunately, since we were still a bit naive, we did not make any crude, "Rod Stewart and the Soccer Team" analogies. However, we were like a crazed pack of wild dogs. We re-enacted the scene many times that weekend, evening spitting milk. The adults probably wanted morphine by the time we were done screaming, "Morphine!" and spewing milk all weekend. I have since lost touch with every one of those girls....after moving from NJ to NC at 14, it was inevitable. But, boy, do those memories still put a smile on my face and a warmth in my heart. I guarantee you that if I bumped into any one of those chicks and just uttered the word 'morphine', a smile would curl our lips upward slowly until we finally burst into laughter. I am smiling now thanks to my trip down memory lane. I am viewing this mental journey as a special Mother's Day gift from my own mom. When I turned to the show, hoping I had not missed the BEST part of the whole episode: the expulsion of milk, I was delighted to see that it was only moments away. I watched as Albert violently and uncontrollably shook on the bed in a sweat, begging for Pa to help him. Pa, with all his strength, held Albert and consoled him....telling him to "let it all out". Albert, obedient son, did as instructed: BLAH! MILK! How excellent to have the opportunity to see this childhood favorite on Mother's Day weekend. Knowing Mom, who - by the way - ended up laughing as hysterically as we did, this was one of her cherished memories as well. Thanks for the fabulous gift, Mom. I love you.
A recent email enumerating characteristics of growing up in the (cough) 70's (cough) reminded me just how much I LOVED to watch Little House on the Prairie. My favorite items in my wardrobe at one time were the handmade dresses that resembled those worn by my idol, Laura Ingalls. They were fondly referred to as my "Laura dresses". At the time I thought they were so novel. Now, during my cynical adult years, I realize that these wardrobe essentials were more of a money-saver than anything else. It still doesn't matter. I loved each and every one of those things, made with the loving hands of either my mom or nanny (grandmother....not babysitter - I was wearing homemade dresses for goodness sake!). I was not the only fan of Little House. My circle of friends deemed the show as wonderful and so, to us in our sheltered world, it WAS, as they say now, "All that". Embarrassingly enough, our love for the show continued into our "tween" stage. This morning, as I lolled in bed recovering from the whirlwind shopping trip to Virginia I made after work with Luscious and Daughter after school yesterday (resulting in my 2 am arrival at home and thus little sleep BUT some new SMALLER clothes -smiling face), I lazily used the guide button on the remote to peruse my viewing options. There it was. My old friend from youth: Little House. Even better was the episode that brought us immense joy...the one where Albert (the adopted son of Charles and Caroline aka Laura's adopted brother) is addicted to morphine and goes through the DT's coming off it. A gem. This, if I recall correctly, was a special prime time episode...perhaps after the regular show was no longer weekly. Laura was grown and married to Almanzo. Charles and Albert were visiting Walnut Grove. Albert was a drug-crazed freak, stealing drugs and wild. Let me interrupt this tale with some background info. My mom was my Girl Scout leader for most of my years in the program. We basically had the same group of girls the entire time and these chicks were my best friends. Girl Scout camping trips, sleepovers, seances, GIGGLES, Little House, etc. (realigning with initial story) Well, unfortunately for my mom and the other leader, this episode aired right before an overnight trip to a house our council owned and let troops use in the winter for overnight trips. How these women stood it I will never know. During the episode, Albert goes through this whole scene where he is "coming off the morphine". The highlight is when he pukes (up front and personal - directly in front of the camera) a milky-white liquid. Fortunately, since we were still a bit naive, we did not make any crude, "Rod Stewart and the Soccer Team" analogies. However, we were like a crazed pack of wild dogs. We re-enacted the scene many times that weekend, evening spitting milk. The adults probably wanted morphine by the time we were done screaming, "Morphine!" and spewing milk all weekend. I have since lost touch with every one of those girls....after moving from NJ to NC at 14, it was inevitable. But, boy, do those memories still put a smile on my face and a warmth in my heart. I guarantee you that if I bumped into any one of those chicks and just uttered the word 'morphine', a smile would curl our lips upward slowly until we finally burst into laughter. I am smiling now thanks to my trip down memory lane. I am viewing this mental journey as a special Mother's Day gift from my own mom. When I turned to the show, hoping I had not missed the BEST part of the whole episode: the expulsion of milk, I was delighted to see that it was only moments away. I watched as Albert violently and uncontrollably shook on the bed in a sweat, begging for Pa to help him. Pa, with all his strength, held Albert and consoled him....telling him to "let it all out". Albert, obedient son, did as instructed: BLAH! MILK! How excellent to have the opportunity to see this childhood favorite on Mother's Day weekend. Knowing Mom, who - by the way - ended up laughing as hysterically as we did, this was one of her cherished memories as well. Thanks for the fabulous gift, Mom. I love you.
Thursday, May 11, 2006
Belly Laughs
A laugh is a smile that bursts. ~Mary H. Waldrip
I love to laugh. Plain and simple. I adore humor and engaging in behavior that leads to deep, free laughter. I am still on the Monk-e-Mail bandwagon. Watching those monkeys say the tasteless phrases that my friends and I type for them to say is just the funniest thing in the world to me right now. I sit in front of that screen watching those monkeys recite the most hysterical trash in those ridiculous clothes and laugh to the point of practically wetting my pants. My family thinks I am insane. Well, Daughter thinks it's pretty funny, too. Her favorite is the line from Napoleon Dynamite where he is urging Tina to eat...."Tina, you fat lard, eat. Food. Eat the food." The line itself is not so funny...but seeing that monkey in clothes and glasses with llamas in the background, it is very amusing. Yo-L, Clementine, and Clem....see you in the Monk-e-Mail world. Thanks for the GOOD TIMES. :0)
I love to laugh. Plain and simple. I adore humor and engaging in behavior that leads to deep, free laughter. I am still on the Monk-e-Mail bandwagon. Watching those monkeys say the tasteless phrases that my friends and I type for them to say is just the funniest thing in the world to me right now. I sit in front of that screen watching those monkeys recite the most hysterical trash in those ridiculous clothes and laugh to the point of practically wetting my pants. My family thinks I am insane. Well, Daughter thinks it's pretty funny, too. Her favorite is the line from Napoleon Dynamite where he is urging Tina to eat...."Tina, you fat lard, eat. Food. Eat the food." The line itself is not so funny...but seeing that monkey in clothes and glasses with llamas in the background, it is very amusing. Yo-L, Clementine, and Clem....see you in the Monk-e-Mail world. Thanks for the GOOD TIMES. :0)
Monday, May 08, 2006
Instruction Manual, Please
In spite of the six thousand manuals on child raising in the bookstores, child raising is still a dark continent and no one really knows anything. You just need a lot of love and luck - and, of course, courage. ~Bill Cosby
Constantly questioning myself as a parent makes me yearn for ONE simple instruction booklet that could save me countless hours of second-guessing myself. Today was a day when I could have used a solid, this-is-the-way-to-handle-this advice. While at school this afternoon, I heard that someone in our community had hung himself. As it turned out, it was someone Hubby, Daughter, and Son knew quite well. Daughter loved seeing him at the marina where Hubby's boat is docked. He was always friendly and treated the children wonderfully. So, this afternoon I had to tell Daughter that this man had died. She was quite upset, but wanted to know what happened. "Did he have a heart attack?" she asked. I really didn't know what to say. Should I divulge the complete truth, exposing her to the reality of suicide? Should I try to shelter my ten-year-old from the the harsh realities of the grown-up world? I needed that non-existent manual. During step class, the "guy who hung himself" was mentioned. I also received a call at home from a concerned friend....someone who knew that Daughter would be crushed by the news. At that point, I believed that it would be best to make sure she heard the truth at home from Hubby and me rather than "out on the street". Although the pain associated with having to tell Daughter such awful news is nothing compared to the anguish this man must have been experiencing, it was pretty horrible having to explain to our baby girl what had happened to her friend. Even though I know it was best to hear it from us, it was terrible having to expose her to the harshness of life. I am hoping we did the right thing. I am rather sure we did, but there's always that doubt. A nice little instruction manual with all the answers would make life so much easier!
Constantly questioning myself as a parent makes me yearn for ONE simple instruction booklet that could save me countless hours of second-guessing myself. Today was a day when I could have used a solid, this-is-the-way-to-handle-this advice. While at school this afternoon, I heard that someone in our community had hung himself. As it turned out, it was someone Hubby, Daughter, and Son knew quite well. Daughter loved seeing him at the marina where Hubby's boat is docked. He was always friendly and treated the children wonderfully. So, this afternoon I had to tell Daughter that this man had died. She was quite upset, but wanted to know what happened. "Did he have a heart attack?" she asked. I really didn't know what to say. Should I divulge the complete truth, exposing her to the reality of suicide? Should I try to shelter my ten-year-old from the the harsh realities of the grown-up world? I needed that non-existent manual. During step class, the "guy who hung himself" was mentioned. I also received a call at home from a concerned friend....someone who knew that Daughter would be crushed by the news. At that point, I believed that it would be best to make sure she heard the truth at home from Hubby and me rather than "out on the street". Although the pain associated with having to tell Daughter such awful news is nothing compared to the anguish this man must have been experiencing, it was pretty horrible having to explain to our baby girl what had happened to her friend. Even though I know it was best to hear it from us, it was terrible having to expose her to the harshness of life. I am hoping we did the right thing. I am rather sure we did, but there's always that doubt. A nice little instruction manual with all the answers would make life so much easier!
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
Oh the Horror!
The most flattering comments on your hair come the day before you are scheduled to have it cut. - unknown
Yes, this is especially true when you are a four-year-old boy who is planning on cutting his own hair. Yesterday Son participated in this rite of passage by hacking off his bangs. Like the second grader in my class last year, I know that it will only look worse as it grows out. Right now, the bangs are so short that it isn't too bizarre looking. Time and hair growth will change that. I cannot look at him without thinking about Martin Short as the synchronized swimmer. Even worse, I don't think he is over this thirst for cutting his own hair. As he snuggled with me last night I watched him lift a chunk of blond and pretend to snip in a scissor-like action with his other hand. Daughter reached this milestone in kindergarten and even displayed keen lying skills to boot. I was home on leave with Son when she came home having hacked off a piece...maybe two inches long....from the side, a more sensible and less obvious area. She told us that some boy was involved and that he had gotten in trouble for it. After a nonchalant comment to the teacher, I realized that no one was involved except for my precious little future-criminal. Luckily her talent for lying has not strengthened and I can usually detect her feeble attempts at deceit. Never again has she cut her hair. I would keep my fingers crossed in hopes that Son will be satiated by his first and only snip, but I don't even want to jinx myself by making scissor-like moves with any body parts!
Yes, this is especially true when you are a four-year-old boy who is planning on cutting his own hair. Yesterday Son participated in this rite of passage by hacking off his bangs. Like the second grader in my class last year, I know that it will only look worse as it grows out. Right now, the bangs are so short that it isn't too bizarre looking. Time and hair growth will change that. I cannot look at him without thinking about Martin Short as the synchronized swimmer. Even worse, I don't think he is over this thirst for cutting his own hair. As he snuggled with me last night I watched him lift a chunk of blond and pretend to snip in a scissor-like action with his other hand. Daughter reached this milestone in kindergarten and even displayed keen lying skills to boot. I was home on leave with Son when she came home having hacked off a piece...maybe two inches long....from the side, a more sensible and less obvious area. She told us that some boy was involved and that he had gotten in trouble for it. After a nonchalant comment to the teacher, I realized that no one was involved except for my precious little future-criminal. Luckily her talent for lying has not strengthened and I can usually detect her feeble attempts at deceit. Never again has she cut her hair. I would keep my fingers crossed in hopes that Son will be satiated by his first and only snip, but I don't even want to jinx myself by making scissor-like moves with any body parts!
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
New Employee
One popular new plastic surgery technique is called lip grafting, or "fat recycling" wherein fat cells are removed from one part of your body that is too large, such as your buttocks, and injected into your lips; people will then be literally kissing ass. ~ Dave Barry
Thanks to the marvels of modern plastic surgery we have a new employee working at our school. I do not have a "before" picture, but as you can see I do have the "after" picture. So, it may seem as though I am ragging on plastic surgery, but I really don't care either way. I do have one suggestion, though. Make sure you have adequate time to heal before returning to work....especially if that work involves dealing with small children (and immature adults - yes, myself included). Coming to work with a make-up caked face in a poor attempt to cover horrible bruises is not wise. As a teacher, why have work done during Spring Break? Wait until summer so it won't be quite as obvious after the few months off. Personally, I had only seen the "work" from a distance because I know that I will end up laughing directly in the bruised, stretched tighter than a drum face staring blankly at me (since the botox has restricted normal movement). That was until this afternoon. I was alone in the workroom when "Michael" approached. There was no escape. Luckily she was wearing large, dark sunglasses so I couldn't get the full effect. She is a "space invader"....you know, one of those people who have no regard for a person's personal space. She was up in my face basically demanding to be looked at making really random small talk about how she didn't know I was good friends with Clementine (who was recently hired at school - and no, she is not the "new employee" to which I am referring). Duh! I'm not sure she knows my full name (and I don't mean the middle name). I escaped as quickly as I could, giggling to myself down the hall. I was bummed when I got back to my classroom only to find that Luscious was gone!!! She had gone home to ride her bike so she can lose 100 more pounds this week.
Monday, April 24, 2006
Sugar and Spice
A baby will make love stronger, days shorter, nights longer, bankroll smaller, home happier, clothes shabbier, the past forgotten, and the future worth living for. ~ unknown
Watching a friend’s dreams come true is one of the greatest pleasures in life. Last year when Carolina got married, it was such a joy to be able to be part of her happiness. I spent most of the time I was there on the verge of tears….happy ones, of course. I couldn’t speak on her behalf at the rehearsal dinner because I knew I’d never get the first word out without turning into Blubbering Girl. Not a very nice nickname. Anyway, she knows that public speaking is not my forte and that my lack of spoken words in public was in no way due to a lack of emotion. She got a written note instead (imagine that). I never contemplated at the time that before another year had passed I would be shedding celebratory tears on her behalf once again. Today it was even more special: a message from Carolina stating that she had given birth to a healthy, gorgeous 7lb. 14 oz., 20 inch long baby girl. I was in exercise class when she called. I almost took the phone in with me, but figured that I’d be ok for the next hour. A mere 10 minutes into the class was when she called. When Daughter was born, I couldn’t imagine NOT having spoken with Carolina….I even called her early in the morning…before 8 o’clock…maybe even 7 (with her memory, she’ll know exactly). So now that the baby waiting is over, I will now wait impatiently until I can speak with her so we can mull over all the gory details as all mothers do. It’s a universal law that all who have given birth must forever speak of and rehash every detail to any other woman who will listen (and as women, we all listen to every birth story we can…they even make tv shows that we have all watched at one time or another to compare our stories to these strangers….aw’ c’mon…you know it’s true). Hmm…how long can I wait before I take a trip to Detroit to see The Baby?
Watching a friend’s dreams come true is one of the greatest pleasures in life. Last year when Carolina got married, it was such a joy to be able to be part of her happiness. I spent most of the time I was there on the verge of tears….happy ones, of course. I couldn’t speak on her behalf at the rehearsal dinner because I knew I’d never get the first word out without turning into Blubbering Girl. Not a very nice nickname. Anyway, she knows that public speaking is not my forte and that my lack of spoken words in public was in no way due to a lack of emotion. She got a written note instead (imagine that). I never contemplated at the time that before another year had passed I would be shedding celebratory tears on her behalf once again. Today it was even more special: a message from Carolina stating that she had given birth to a healthy, gorgeous 7lb. 14 oz., 20 inch long baby girl. I was in exercise class when she called. I almost took the phone in with me, but figured that I’d be ok for the next hour. A mere 10 minutes into the class was when she called. When Daughter was born, I couldn’t imagine NOT having spoken with Carolina….I even called her early in the morning…before 8 o’clock…maybe even 7 (with her memory, she’ll know exactly). So now that the baby waiting is over, I will now wait impatiently until I can speak with her so we can mull over all the gory details as all mothers do. It’s a universal law that all who have given birth must forever speak of and rehash every detail to any other woman who will listen (and as women, we all listen to every birth story we can…they even make tv shows that we have all watched at one time or another to compare our stories to these strangers….aw’ c’mon…you know it’s true). Hmm…how long can I wait before I take a trip to Detroit to see The Baby?
Saturday, April 22, 2006
Succumbing to Temptation
Pizza is a lot like sex. When it's good, it's really good. When it's bad, it's still pretty good. ~ unknown
How many vices can one give into in the course of the day? I am fried to a crisp, resembling the shell of a cooked lobster due to my need to be outside in the glorious weather (not to mention the exercise I craved hoping to lose an amazing amount of weight this week so I can stop eating 20 points each day!). I have eaten and drunk a veritable plethora of food and vanilla vodka leading to a semi-drunk state. Then there are the other vices to which I gave in (and will not mention). I have totally cancelled out any good behavior I did today by sitting here and SNARFING down half a pint of Ben & Jerry's Karamel Sutra. OH MY GOLLY WAS IT GOOD!
How many vices can one give into in the course of the day? I am fried to a crisp, resembling the shell of a cooked lobster due to my need to be outside in the glorious weather (not to mention the exercise I craved hoping to lose an amazing amount of weight this week so I can stop eating 20 points each day!). I have eaten and drunk a veritable plethora of food and vanilla vodka leading to a semi-drunk state. Then there are the other vices to which I gave in (and will not mention). I have totally cancelled out any good behavior I did today by sitting here and SNARFING down half a pint of Ben & Jerry's Karamel Sutra. OH MY GOLLY WAS IT GOOD!
Friday, April 21, 2006
Stupid Fun
It is one of the blessings of old friends that you can afford to be stupid with them. ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson
Share the fun! While dozing in bed this morning listening to my favorite morning show, The Daily Buzz, I happened to rouse myself long enough to listen to a segment about places on the web. This one caught my attention. Visit it and you'll see why. It combines my affection for prank phone calls with my addiction to the computer. It is CareerBuilder Monk-e Mail. There you can select a chimp, dress it, accessorize it, select the background, and (THE BEST) select text for the monkey to say in a delightful email. Daughter and I had fun sending a monk-e mail to Girlfriend with a quote from Napoleon Dynamite: Tina, you fat lard, come get some DINNER!... Tina, eat. Food. Eat the FOOD! We selected that one because we put the chimp in a field of llamas. Totally stupid. Totally fun. Check your boxes, folks....you may be the recipient of some monk-e mail from moi! It may take a bit...it wouldn't let us send more than two at a time. That means that one of you diligent readers has some ma-il (you must user a sing-songy voice for that last word).
Thursday, April 20, 2006
End in Sight
The road to success is dotted with many tempting parking places. ~ unknown
And damn if there haven't been an abundance of temptations THIS week. Between the 1 lb. gain last week and the friends in town, family in town, and two trips OUT of town, I have been horribly tempted and, at times, downright ill about turning down some of the temptations. The Cult has been a pain in my butt as of late. However, buying clothing 2-3 sizes smaller than I had been wearing has been quite fun! Double digits to single digits - whoo hoo! After harassment from the Cult leader via email, I finally succumbed and agreed to meet with her. The goal has officially been set. Five more pounds, 6 weeks of maintenance, and I will have earned a lifetime membership. Losing the weight is nice, but getting the free membership for life will be even better! I am a sucker for the promise of free stuff. The sad part is that it will probably take me at least 3-4 weeks to lose the last 5 lbs. What the hell was I thinking?
And damn if there haven't been an abundance of temptations THIS week. Between the 1 lb. gain last week and the friends in town, family in town, and two trips OUT of town, I have been horribly tempted and, at times, downright ill about turning down some of the temptations. The Cult has been a pain in my butt as of late. However, buying clothing 2-3 sizes smaller than I had been wearing has been quite fun! Double digits to single digits - whoo hoo! After harassment from the Cult leader via email, I finally succumbed and agreed to meet with her. The goal has officially been set. Five more pounds, 6 weeks of maintenance, and I will have earned a lifetime membership. Losing the weight is nice, but getting the free membership for life will be even better! I am a sucker for the promise of free stuff. The sad part is that it will probably take me at least 3-4 weeks to lose the last 5 lbs. What the hell was I thinking?
Ace in the Hole
Show me a good loser and I'll show you an idiot. ~ Leo Durocher
Ace....one word that personifies loser and idiot. Thank goodness for no more vomit-inducing, poor-attempt-at-looking-sexy gazes into the camera at the end of each performance. Thank goodness that I will no longer be tortured by his falsetto caterwauling causing me to think that he had been kicked squarely before taking the stage. Hmm...who should go next? Paris, Pickler or McPhee? I'll tune in next week to see who causes the bile to rise more and then make my call. The more I watch, the more I am inclined to lean towards Chris to win. Sorry to all my Taylor fans. Who am I missing? There are now 6 wanna-be's left. Oh, I think I just realized who I must subconsciously want "outta there" even before Paris, Pickler, or McPheever (ugh! that name they invented!).....it's Goat Boy: Elliott! This guy reminds me of the SNL Goat Boy character played by Jim Breuer. You check it out for yourself and then think about how right I am while you are giggling over the resemblance. Like Goat Boy, Elliott needs to be zapped with the prod and get off the show.
Inspirational
I am unwritten, can't read my mind, I'm undefined
I'm just beginning, the pen's in my hand, ending unplanned
Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find
Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten ~ Natasha Bedingfield
When listening to music I am often guilty of not listening to the lyrics until I am convinced that I like the actual music. Sometimes a song will be around for a bit before I completely get into the lyrics. Then I am frequently disappointed by what I hear….especially if it involves most of the “hip hoppish” music that is prevalent and that I secretly adore. Case in point, the Black Eyed Peas. I really like a lot of their tunes, but am not completely sold on their lyrics. They are perfect for dancing like a complete idiot in the private confines of my home with my children. Don’t Phunk With My Heart is quite catchy, but when Son sings it in front of people that don’t know the song, it sounds as though he is dropping the “f-bomb” and I guess, for general purposes, he basically IS since the lyricists have disguised the “f-bomb” with the word “phunk”. My Humps is another gem in which the chick singing the song brags about what she will be able to get by flaunting her “lovely lady lumps” that are in the “back and in the front”. Then, for those who can’t figure out what those are, they actually end up referencing these parts as “ass” and “breasts” in a series of questions sung by a man (Whatcha gonna do wit all that ass inside those jeans?) and then answers supplied by the woman (I’m gonna get you drunk…love drunk off my humps). As obnoxious as the words are, the tunes are addictive if you are into that sort of music. Hubby is not and is often tortured when one of these wildly wonderful songs comes on the XM since it will be cranked and the Mom and Kid dance party begins. All my better judgment about exposing my children to inappropriate music instantly evaporates when we can have Instant Dance Party. These songs are not the only source of deception. Even simple sounding love ballads may sound innocuous, but are merely wolves in sheep clothing. That sappy sounding Kelly Clarkson song about never straying far from the sidewalk sounds like a touching tribute thanking someone for keeping her safe. Listen more closely and it’s not quite the case: “Because of you I find it hard to trust not only me, but everyone around me Because of you I am afraid” Just the type of song I want dedicated to me! “Thanks for all the mental abuse you heaped on me...yes, I am safe, but terrified to live and it’s all your fault.” I know, I have provided commentary about music many blogs ago, but I have actually found a song that I thought was quite inspirational. So inspirational, in fact, that I used the lyrics to open this entry. I love the choice of words like “drench” and “illuminate” along with the comparison of life to an empty book that is to be written daily. Wow, a side of me that normally doesn’t emerge in this forum….shocking, huh? Yay for this simple, yet motivating song. I am now going to detach myself from this beast (the computer) and go write my book for today. It is the perfect day for writing….sunny, warm, and absolutely gorgeous. I will open up my dirty windows (literally) and let the sun illuminate my world. The beach will be visited in some way today!
I'm just beginning, the pen's in my hand, ending unplanned
Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find
Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten ~ Natasha Bedingfield
When listening to music I am often guilty of not listening to the lyrics until I am convinced that I like the actual music. Sometimes a song will be around for a bit before I completely get into the lyrics. Then I am frequently disappointed by what I hear….especially if it involves most of the “hip hoppish” music that is prevalent and that I secretly adore. Case in point, the Black Eyed Peas. I really like a lot of their tunes, but am not completely sold on their lyrics. They are perfect for dancing like a complete idiot in the private confines of my home with my children. Don’t Phunk With My Heart is quite catchy, but when Son sings it in front of people that don’t know the song, it sounds as though he is dropping the “f-bomb” and I guess, for general purposes, he basically IS since the lyricists have disguised the “f-bomb” with the word “phunk”. My Humps is another gem in which the chick singing the song brags about what she will be able to get by flaunting her “lovely lady lumps” that are in the “back and in the front”. Then, for those who can’t figure out what those are, they actually end up referencing these parts as “ass” and “breasts” in a series of questions sung by a man (Whatcha gonna do wit all that ass inside those jeans?) and then answers supplied by the woman (I’m gonna get you drunk…love drunk off my humps). As obnoxious as the words are, the tunes are addictive if you are into that sort of music. Hubby is not and is often tortured when one of these wildly wonderful songs comes on the XM since it will be cranked and the Mom and Kid dance party begins. All my better judgment about exposing my children to inappropriate music instantly evaporates when we can have Instant Dance Party. These songs are not the only source of deception. Even simple sounding love ballads may sound innocuous, but are merely wolves in sheep clothing. That sappy sounding Kelly Clarkson song about never straying far from the sidewalk sounds like a touching tribute thanking someone for keeping her safe. Listen more closely and it’s not quite the case: “Because of you I find it hard to trust not only me, but everyone around me Because of you I am afraid” Just the type of song I want dedicated to me! “Thanks for all the mental abuse you heaped on me...yes, I am safe, but terrified to live and it’s all your fault.” I know, I have provided commentary about music many blogs ago, but I have actually found a song that I thought was quite inspirational. So inspirational, in fact, that I used the lyrics to open this entry. I love the choice of words like “drench” and “illuminate” along with the comparison of life to an empty book that is to be written daily. Wow, a side of me that normally doesn’t emerge in this forum….shocking, huh? Yay for this simple, yet motivating song. I am now going to detach myself from this beast (the computer) and go write my book for today. It is the perfect day for writing….sunny, warm, and absolutely gorgeous. I will open up my dirty windows (literally) and let the sun illuminate my world. The beach will be visited in some way today!
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
The Rollercoaster
The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each other's life. Rarely do members of one family grown up under the same roof. ~ Richard Bach
I have just arrived home after spending a fabulous day with my dad, More-Than-a-Stepmom, her daughter, her daughter's fiance, and his daughter. Just as last year, we spent time letting the girls play and hanging out in the sunshine on the beach. Son ended up soaked from the neck down, providing the excuse: I was just water walking. It looked more like water jumping to me, but there hits a point of exasperation when I just have to resign myself to the fact that it's not worth the effort to even utter another command and to just let the events play themselves out. Today was such a day. After our day together, we got together for dinner. Another delicious meal. I know that any time I visit Dad's I am going to completely adore everything that I consume. Today I was spoiled by two meals that the cult would not approve....but boy were they worth it! Anyway, I am rambling so I will get to the heart of this. Last year we had a similar get together. Last year left me dealing with an unexpected emotional outburst known only to Hubby. I did not share my feelings anywhere else because I was so confused and felt horrible that I was even experiencing such emotions. It's hard to even discuss them now, but I feel the need to revisit them and contrast them with the way I feel tonight. Last year I didn't make it out of Dad's housing development before bursting into tears. I had had such a wonderful evening, but as the night unfolded (and the more alcohol I consumed - maybe not such a smart move...but I did not anticipate the emotions to come) and the children filled the house with laughter that we all enjoyed, I could not help feeling like Mom had been cheated out of hearing her home filled with the joyous noises of her grandchildren. It broke my heart even though I realistically knew that the evening would not have been possible unless the events that had led up to this point had not taken place. I love my step-family. My emotions on that night were not even remotely connected to them. They were driven by my own selfishness. For years before Mom died I prayed for Dad's happiness each night. My prayers were answered; he, in my opinion, is happier than ever. He has always deserved the happiness he now has. Confused? I know I was....and most of you do not know the details concerning life before Mom passed away. I do not wish to get into that tonight. Instead, I am using this blog as a forum to mull over the stark emotional contrast I am feeling this year. When I arrived home tonight, it suddenly hit me that there was no emotional battle raging within me. The kids had still had fun. Daughter is even spending the night with her "cousin by marriage" as the girls put it. We laughed and created new memories. I had some drinks (which is probably more apparent now). All of the same characters were present (except for Brother who is out of town). It has been said that time heals all wounds. I don't see the wound left by my mother's death ever completely healing, but maybe...just maybe....the wound won't always be so raw and painful....at least not all the time. I do remember a time where it hurt every day just to exist. Then it intertwined with numbness. Gradually, life resumed....but it was forever altered. Sometimes that same initial anguish can return in the blink of an eye with the same magnitude with absolutely no warning. The emotion is strong, but not as long-lived. Nonetheless, my whole point here is that I am amazed by the contrast in emotions. I am perplexed, but am thankful for the ability to experience this day without the bonus of emotional trauma (ok...maybe trauma is a harsh word, but it adds to the impact of the entry, don't you think?). OK, I know, enough of the "Deep Thoughts" for this night. I have neither solved the problems of the world nor even come close to figuring out the craziness that takes place within the confines of my skull. Oh, well. At least I have settled my brain for now by expressing my thoughts, as random as they are, in words.
I have just arrived home after spending a fabulous day with my dad, More-Than-a-Stepmom, her daughter, her daughter's fiance, and his daughter. Just as last year, we spent time letting the girls play and hanging out in the sunshine on the beach. Son ended up soaked from the neck down, providing the excuse: I was just water walking. It looked more like water jumping to me, but there hits a point of exasperation when I just have to resign myself to the fact that it's not worth the effort to even utter another command and to just let the events play themselves out. Today was such a day. After our day together, we got together for dinner. Another delicious meal. I know that any time I visit Dad's I am going to completely adore everything that I consume. Today I was spoiled by two meals that the cult would not approve....but boy were they worth it! Anyway, I am rambling so I will get to the heart of this. Last year we had a similar get together. Last year left me dealing with an unexpected emotional outburst known only to Hubby. I did not share my feelings anywhere else because I was so confused and felt horrible that I was even experiencing such emotions. It's hard to even discuss them now, but I feel the need to revisit them and contrast them with the way I feel tonight. Last year I didn't make it out of Dad's housing development before bursting into tears. I had had such a wonderful evening, but as the night unfolded (and the more alcohol I consumed - maybe not such a smart move...but I did not anticipate the emotions to come) and the children filled the house with laughter that we all enjoyed, I could not help feeling like Mom had been cheated out of hearing her home filled with the joyous noises of her grandchildren. It broke my heart even though I realistically knew that the evening would not have been possible unless the events that had led up to this point had not taken place. I love my step-family. My emotions on that night were not even remotely connected to them. They were driven by my own selfishness. For years before Mom died I prayed for Dad's happiness each night. My prayers were answered; he, in my opinion, is happier than ever. He has always deserved the happiness he now has. Confused? I know I was....and most of you do not know the details concerning life before Mom passed away. I do not wish to get into that tonight. Instead, I am using this blog as a forum to mull over the stark emotional contrast I am feeling this year. When I arrived home tonight, it suddenly hit me that there was no emotional battle raging within me. The kids had still had fun. Daughter is even spending the night with her "cousin by marriage" as the girls put it. We laughed and created new memories. I had some drinks (which is probably more apparent now). All of the same characters were present (except for Brother who is out of town). It has been said that time heals all wounds. I don't see the wound left by my mother's death ever completely healing, but maybe...just maybe....the wound won't always be so raw and painful....at least not all the time. I do remember a time where it hurt every day just to exist. Then it intertwined with numbness. Gradually, life resumed....but it was forever altered. Sometimes that same initial anguish can return in the blink of an eye with the same magnitude with absolutely no warning. The emotion is strong, but not as long-lived. Nonetheless, my whole point here is that I am amazed by the contrast in emotions. I am perplexed, but am thankful for the ability to experience this day without the bonus of emotional trauma (ok...maybe trauma is a harsh word, but it adds to the impact of the entry, don't you think?). OK, I know, enough of the "Deep Thoughts" for this night. I have neither solved the problems of the world nor even come close to figuring out the craziness that takes place within the confines of my skull. Oh, well. At least I have settled my brain for now by expressing my thoughts, as random as they are, in words.
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