Category Archives: observations

Eastery

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Here’s a funny little nugget I never posted:

On Easter morning after our Easter egg hunt, I took the boys to church. We sat in the back row and people watched until the service began. Alex quickly located a woman wearing a sundress which tied at the shoulder. Normally, this would not grab his attention but this woman happened to be completely covered in tattoos.

“Mom, mom, there’s a lady who has lots of tattoos.”

“I see her.”

“Mom, she’s got an eagle and some other things on her back.”

“Uh-huh, she does.”

“That’s not really Eastery.”

Andrew – “It’s not Eastery. She should have bunny and egg tattoos.”

Words

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Words are powerful.

They can be arranged in so many ways. The arrangement can be helpful or hurtful.

When I told people I was pregnant with my fourth child I received many responses. I wrote down several which left a negative impression on me.

*Congratulations, I guess

*Wow, every time I see you, you are pregnant

*You do know how this keeps happening, right?

*Wow, you and your husband need to buy a tv

This baby was very much planned for, he just happened to have been conceived several months earlier than intended. But still, he was most definitely wanted. The responses shocked me but I saved them with a purpose in mind. My plan was to print them next to a picture of our new baby and say how callous people could be about such an amazing event.

Well, that wasn’t to be. But I still remember the words.

Yesterday, someone’s words stung me unintentionally.

I had my yearly appointment with my gynecologist/obgyn. As I sat naked on the examining table with only two paper cloths covering me, I found it unbelievable I could hear the heartbeat check of someone else’s baby in the next room. As clear as a muffled beat can be, I could hear it.

My doctor came in and said, “Hello…How’s the baby?”

?

?

?

I finally managed to spit out, “You mean the two year old?”

“Sure, two is still a baby.”

Then she actually opened my file. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I forgot.”

I’ve seen this woman roughly four times in the past 9 weeks. I should look somewhat familiar. At the very least, she should have opened my file before coming in.

“How’s the baby?” 3 simple yet powerful words. Words that still make my heart hurt.

Just Say No

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Never say yes to your children. Whatever it may be. Just say no.

I should have followed my own advice on Monday night.

Typically Mondays are crazy nights for us. We usually have several activities going on at the same time. Because of rain on Sunday night, our field activities were cancelled leaving about an hour of playtime we typically don’t have. The boys begged to go outside and ride bikes.

I looked at my watch, calculated there would be 45 minutes of bike time, 15 minutes for dinner, and then we would be off  to Andrew’s music class.

Before going out I placed frozen meatballs on a cookie sheet and some marinara sauce in a pot. Quick and easy meatball subs for dinner was the plan.

All 3 kids rode bikes up and down our street for 30 minutes.

Caroline and I were in the garage when Alex rode in.

“Mom, I need a styrofoam ball for school tomorrow.”

“What? Why?”

“We’re making the sun and I need to bring in the ball for my group.”

“How long have you known about this?” my voice getting loud

“Just today.”

“I don’t think so. A teacher’s not going to ask you to bring in a styrofoam ball with 1 days notice.”

“My group just decided today that we were going to make the sun.”

“What’s everyone else in the group bringing?” my voice getting louder

“Lucy is bringing paint pens and Hoyt is bringing a picture of the sun.”

“Why are you bringing the styrofoam ball? When did you plan on getting this? Why didn’t you tell me about this when you first came home from school.” my voice getting even louder

“I don’t know.”

I grab the phone and call my husband. In an extremely irritated voice I say, “Your son needs a styrofoam ball for school tomorrow. Can you go by the craft store on your way home? Here talk to him. I am so annoyed.”

They discuss the situation while I calm down.

I decided to start dinner so I gathered the kids and tell them to stay in the garage. “Get off your bikes and stand here. I just need to go in and put the tray of meatballs into the oven. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay mom.” Also known as,  “We haven’t heard a thing you’ve said. Nor do we care.”

I walked into the house, into the kitchen, grabbed the tray of meatballs, and put them in the oven. I was turning around to walk back outside, when Andrew came in running, “Mom, Caroline is crying and her chin is bleeding.”

In disbelief I say, “What? How did she get hurt?”

Alex (walking in calmly while his sister can be heard screaming in the background), “I was pushing her on her bike and she turned the handle bar quickly and fell off.”

I quickly think to myself – 1. she’s not supposed to be on a bike, and 2. you are not supposed to be pushing her!

I grab Caroline and inspect her chin. There is quit a bit of blood and I can see she’s got a gash. I quickly way the pros and cons of taking her to the hospital – on one hand the hospital visit will be expensive but on the other hand I don’t think she will especially enjoy looking like a turkey when she’s older.

I grab a bag of ice, throw everyone in the car,  and call Derek. “We’re on our way to the hospital, meet us there.”

After arriving at the hospital I must retell the story of how Caroline hurt her chin probably fifteen times. Each time I try to emphasize certain parts of the story to lessen the chances that CPS will make a visit to my house – I was inside the house when she fell off her bike BUT SHE HAD A HELMET ON. I don’t know if she hit her head on the concrete BUT SHE HAD A HELMET ON.

I think I managed to evade a home visit but just barely.

Turns out Caroline only needed a band aid on her chin. I can’t wait to get the bill for that band aid.

While waiting to be discharged Derek mentions he got a styrofoam ball. With his hands, he   demonstrates it’s about the size of a baseball.

I look at Alex. Alex looks at me then turns to Derek, “But it has to be bigger. It’s supposed to be the sun.”

Now it’s Derek’s turn for his voice to get louder. “You didn’t tell me it had to be big.”

“Daaaaaaaaaaaaad, it’s for the sun. The sun is huge,” whines Alex.

So after taking a post hospital trip to the craft store for a $15 styrofoam ball, we went home, ate cereal, and put the kids to bed.

Oh, and I threw the bikes in the trash.

At least I wanted to.

My Top 10 Favorite Adult Books

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Maybe I should clarify…especially for certain friends of mine. When I say adult books I mean typical regular books you would find in your local bookstore – not the adult bookstore.
 
I love to read and am a pretty quick reader. I tend to go in spurts with my reading, i.e. 5 books in a month and nothing for the next month. I typically favor books that tell the story of women and children and their daily struggles and triumphs – whether that takes place in the depression or the present. Those stories can be fiction, biographies, or autobiographies. You will notice I do not have any of the “classics” on my list. Several years ago I bought East of Eden by John Steinbeck. I got as far as page 3. I figure my horizons are broad enough.
 
 
I hope you enjoy my selections.
 
Naked – David SedarisThis is the funniest book! My husband and I both have enjoyed many of David Sedaris’ books. The humor is sometimes crude and controversial but so worth it. This book is filled with short stories so it’s nice to read an entire story before bed. My favorite story of his “SantaLand Diaries,” is not in this book but worth whatever you have to pay to read it. 
The Color of Water –  James McBrideI have probably read this book 20 times since it’s my favorite book. James McBrides’ mother fascinates me. She born into a white Jewish family but raised her twelve biracial children as black and married a preacher she adored. This book mixes the history of Ruth McBride with the childhood struggles of James McBride and his family.

The Help – Kathryn StockettI cannot recommend this book enough. Once I started reading I could not put the book down. This book tells the stories of a group of white woman and their black maids in Jackson, Miss. during the civivl rights movement. I am eager to see the movie version of this book this summer and hope she releases a new book soon.

 

 

 Funny in Farsi – Firoozeh DumasFunny in FarsiMy mom gave me this book after she listened to Mrs. Dumas speak at a conference. I, in turn, have given this to friends since I find it to be a laugh out loud book. Through short essays, Mrs. Dumas shares her life in California after coming from Iran at the age of seven. You will enjoy reading how her family deals with new American customs and expectations.

The Friday Night Knitting Club by Kate JacobsThis book focuses on a group of women who come together because of their interest in knitting. Some of die hard sitters while others come more for socializing. Moments in this book will make you smile while others will have you cry – amazing.

 

 Angela’s Ashes by Frank McCourt

I have read Angela’s Ashes several times and each time I am struck by the perseverance of Mr. McCourt and those around him while growing up in poverty in Ireland in the 30’s and 40’s.  This book truly makes you appreciate everything you have.
Angry Housewives Eating Bon Bons by Lorna LandvikThis story follows the lives of five women who live on the same cul de sac in Minneapolis over three decades. Texas born Faith, antiwar activist Slip, sexpot Audrey, painfully shy Merit, and Kari the widow, all come together to take you along for an amazing read.

Good in Bed – Jennifer Weiner

This was my last selection to include in this list. Truthfully, many other books could just as easily be in this spot. I like this book because Candy is a strong character with a sense of humor while dealing with her ex-boyfriend writing about her and her “assets” in a national magazine.
 
The Other Boleyn Girl – Phillipa GregoryI am not a history buff but I am a social history buff. I love to read about the way people lived many years ago, the clothes they wore, and the activities that kept them busy. After reading this book I am thankful I didn’t grow up in the courts of England. Gregory describes them as being cutthroat and vicious – and that’s just between the siblings.
 

Tara Road by Maeve Binchy

I love Maeve Binchy books, there’s just no question about it. I immediately get drawn into the characters everyday plights and am fascinated how she connects everyone’s lives eventually. Her books, which typically take place in Ireland, always keep me up late at night reading.
 

Do you have any favorite book suggestions for me?

Towanda

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My inner Towanda almost came out last week.

Let me explain.

I picked up my 2 yr old from day care and was informed she did not take a nap. Well, I needed to remedy the situation since we had a late night ahead of us. I decided to drive around, ignoring her, while she fell asleep. I knew she was tired and just needed to be strapped down in order to rest.

For the last two weeks my daughter has insisted upon “Pop Pop” being played in the car. That’s her way of saying “Turn on the Mary Poppins soundtrack or heads will roll.” My boys have endured countless playings of “A Spoonful of Sugar,” and “Jolly Holiday.” They just may come to believe Julie Andrews and Dick Van Dyke are family members.

Truth be told though, nothing annoys me more than when I realize I am singing along with “Let’s Go Fly a Kite” and I actually dropped off all 3 kids fifteen minutes earlier.

So there we were. Driving and driving. It took twenty minutes and eight replays of “Feed the Birds,” but she finally fell asleep. Not wanting to wake her up I continued listening to “Pop Pop.” I determined it was a small price to pay in exchange for the precious nap time she desperately needed.

Four minutes after Caroline’s eyes closed I came to a stoplight. I waited patiently trying to mentally map out my next 30 minutes of driving before I would need to pick up her brother.

A young man on a motorcycle pulled up next to me. I noticed his lack of a helmet and was worrying about his safety… when he turned on me. Without warning he needlessly started revving his engine. LOUDLY. Not once. Not twice. But continued to rev it for the rest of the stoplight.

What’s he planning on doing? Racing the minivan?

The moment the light turned green, the Fonz took off, screeching and roaring down the road.

And then it happened.

A loud shrieking sound from the back seat. All parents know the particular cry I’m talking about. It is the cry that says, “I wasn’t ready to wake up! I’m still tired! Now I ‘m really pissed off because I’m strapped down in this seat crying! I haaaaaaaate you!”

My inner Towanda wanted to come out.

If not for the fact that I would have had to explain to my husband why the front of my minivan was smashed in and that he needed to pick me up from jail, I just might have gone after that motorcycle.

E’sta

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Last weekend I took Caroline and Andrew to our neighborhood Easter egg hunt. Derek and Alex were off at a soccer game so they missed out. As you can see, Caroline and Andrew were deeply disappointed to miss the soccer game.

Caroline is wearing her “e-sta wabbit dess” my mom gave her and Andrew is wearing a shirt from Aunt Kelly. Thanks for the adorable clothes!

She’s wearing her summer hat since it was roughly 90 degrees and sunny.

Andrew was very willing to take a picture with the Easter Bunny. Caroline, not so much.

One of my favorite pictures shows right before the egg hunt began – Caroline and Andrew look like they’re standing at an Easter crime scene…I can see the headline now:       Massive Mob Attacks Rabbit who Placed Fruit in Easter Eggs

After the Easter egg hunt, Caroline & Andrew came home and dumped their baskets on the floor. Caroline was excited to find plastic bracelets in each of her eggs. Andrew was happy with some of his finds – little erasers, spinning tops – but not so happy with some.

I am now the proud owner of 6 pairs of stick on earrings and 2 plastic rings.

6 Weeks

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It has been 6 weeks since my miscarriage and I’m angry.

Just plain angry.

I don’t know what stage of grief that falls under. In fact, I purposely have not looked at the stages of grief. I don’t want to think I’m on stage three when a bad day makes me realize I’m really still at a one. I know I will teeter back and forth between the stages, whatever they may be, but I don’t want to know about them officially just yet.

Here are the stages I have gone through:

Stage 1: Sadness. To the core.

Stage 2: A Need to Hide: I could not see or talk to anyone the first two weeks. I knew I would break down and it was not something I was comfortable doing in front of so many.

Stage 2: Retail therapy: I told Derek I didn’t want to hear anything about our Discover bill this month. Just pay it and we’ll worry about the next bill in due time. I’m sure he’d say THE LOFT, Target, Macy’s, and Dillard’s have benefited immensely from my grief.

Stage 3: Annoyance: Annoyed that Derek gets to carry on with life as usual and I am stuck waiting. Waiting to exercise, waiting to have a direction again, waiting to feel normal.

Stage 4: Jealousy: Looking at pregnant woman wishing it were me. This one always makes me feel like such a jerk since I’ve already been blessed three times.

Stage 5: Anger: I’m angry I had to quit my part time job I loved. I’m angry I can only exercise 2 times a week right now because of some complications. I’m angry I got my period. I’m angry I can’t fit into my summer clothes because it’s 85 degrees. I’m angry the daycare can’t seem to clean my daughter’s nose once during the day. Just name it and I can give you my side of it and how to be angry about it.

Stage 6, 7, 8, 9, 10… I don’t know what phase I will go through next but I do feel confident I am moving in the right direction. Writing has truly been cathartic for me. It lets me share at my own pace.

I will be fine. Better than fine. Just not sure when.

Boys

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Last week Alex invited a few boys over for his birthday. The first part of the party involved me driving them to Legoland. It’s a 30 minute drive and I only managed to remember a few of the precious jewels they said.

From the mouths of 3rd grade boys, enjoy:

“Last week we got to speak to the astronauts on the space station. I wanted to ask – Uranus – Does it have a crack?”

farting sounds – lots of giggles

“Dude, remember when we were camping and the door just closed on itself? It was bloody Mary.”

farting sounds – lots of giggles

“Don’t you know anything guys, it was really her Uncle Henry. Bloody Mary was taking the week off.”

farting sounds – lots of giggles

“Guys…inside voices guys.”

farting sounds – still, more giggles

“My third grade teacher got married. She changed her name to Mrs. Fleming.”   “Why did she change her name?”   “Dude, she’s not a pop star, she has to change her name.”    “Lots of paperwork is involved when you want to change your name.”

“Remember when we were little”

Bewildered

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I must be more attractive than I thought.

Or maybe it’s my glowing personality.

Either way, I’m bewildered by my locker room experience today.

Let me back up and tell you the story. Then you can be the judge.

After swim practice today I showered in the locker room. The other female swimmers  were showering as well, chatting up their various plans for the week.

Once I finished showering I dried off by twisting a towel around my head and used a separate towel to wrap around my body. The second towel covered me from my chest to mid thigh. I stepped out of the shower stall and walked to the mirrors where I began laying out my things – lotion, brush, clothes.

I noticed my teammate Lynnae come walking around the corner from the showers. She had a towel wrapped around her and was carrying her caddy of shampoo products.

I smiled at her and went back to laying out my things.

As Lynnae walked past me she squeezed my right bum cheek, smiled at me in the mirror, and kept walking.

????????????????????

What the hell just happened here? I thought.

Aren’t teammates suppose to pat each others’ bums, not squeeze them? At least that’s what I think I’ve always seen basketball players on tv do?

Swimmers, they never even pat. Basketball & baseball players, yes.

I reiterate, swimmers NEVER!

Was I just violated?

Did I just get to second base with my 57 year old teammate?

 

 

That Sure Is

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Last night I went to the store to get some groceries. I chose the line with the 16 year old male cashier as opposed to the 60 year old woman. I figured less chatty, quicker, and will get the job done faster.

Among my items were 5 large containers of frosting. I am making a birthday cake for Alex and want to make sure I have enough frosting for it. My husband can attest to the fact that There’s nothing worse than running out of frosting 15 minutes before the party starts – not that I have ever been inadequately prepared for a party. Just saying, it could happen.

So as the teen grabs the frosting and scans it he says, “That sure is a lot of frosting.”

“Yes, it’s for my son’s birthday cake.”

That got me to thinking.

I wonder what he would have said if I had 5 boxes of tampons? “That sure is a lot of tampons.”

I was almost tempted to run back and grab the tampons just to find out.

Maybe I’ll wait until Alex’s 16th birthday.

I’ll send him to the store for the frosting and the tampons at the same time.

I bet that will make for a lasting birthday memory.