The Hair of His Head

A Message to the public of Memphis….particularly the middle-aged and approaching elderly women.

To you, the kindly women who so frequently comment on the loveliness of Reese’s hair.  We realize that you have warmest of intentions when you compliment his curls, and we appreciate the sincere acclimations.  This is incredible gracious of you and I will be honest, I too think the little boy looks pretty darling with his locks.   However, please keep in mind that when you tell him how you would love to have his hair and or that you would gladly trade your hair for his, it does not come across to a 5-year-old boy as a compliment.  How many young boys do you know of, who want to have the same hair-do as their grandmothers?  It’s never other 5-year-old boys who are asking to switch coifs with him.  Never, ever. Never twenty-year old men with leather jackets carrying motorcycle helmets.   But always, ALWAYS, an older woman.  I believe he is beginning to get a complex.  Especially when the lady told him the other day that she wanted to put him in her purse and take him with her to get her hair done.  That way, she could just pull him out and tell her hair lady,” Just like this! Make my hair look just like his.”

I know his hair is eye-catching.  I also completely understand the almost involuntary reaction of reaching out to touch his hair.  I can’t tell you how many times we have been in line at a store and I have noticed a stranger reach out and purposefully, “accidentally” wave their hand over my child’s head.  I would, however, prefer that you not pet my little one’s head.  And I think he would appreciate it as well.  But even more than the inappropriate fondle, Reese would like to put the word out that older ladies coveting his hair is not really doing anything for his self-esteem.

Most little boys want to be strong, smart, and handsome.  They want to grow up to be fast and big and do important things.  Not have the perfect old lady perm.

Though I know you think you are, you are not complimenting him.  And when he doesn’t come back with a resounding “Thank You.” Please keep in mind that he is once again feeling like even less of a manly man.

Thank you and have a good night.

This and That and a Bag of Hair

I have a few random little things to share with you, my faithful readers.

1. New Shoes

So for his birthday, Reese received this adorable pair of Toms.  He was thrilled to wear them and tore into the box.  His happiness was burst when he discovered that the velcro on the right shoe wasn’t attached like it was supposed to be, and he immediately called out, “It wasn’t me, I didn’t break them.” This would not be the first time that Reese had damaged something upon first touch.

So, rather than wear his awesome new shoes, I have been trying to figure out what to do with them re[air-wise.  I attempted to take them to a local store that carries Toms, but since they hadn’t been purchased from there they just sort of smiled at me and refused to touch the box I was holding.

Strike One

Then I decided to call Toms, go directly to the source if you will.  They let me know that since the shoes hadn’t been directly purchased from Toms, that they couldn’t give me any sort of refund or exchange. To this, I wanted to argue that in some form and at some time, the shoes had been purchased from Toms, just not directly through me.  He also let me know that they were currently having a sale on their website should I be interested in purchasing any more shoes. To that, I wanted to say a big fat NO!

Strike Two

I considered my go-to repair method of choice – the hot glue gun, but decided that maybe this time it wasn’t the answer.

I needed someone who knew how to sew and didn’t mind working with canvas. Hmmmmmmmm

My first thought was a furniture upholstery place…..but that just seemed to complicated and I would have felt really awkward going in to a place with my little child’s shoe in my hand asking if they could  reattach an inch of velcro.

What about the shoe guy Brandon goes to when he gets his expensive shoes resoled.  The only problem was that I didn’t know who the guy was and whenever I remembered to ask Brandon, he seemed to be busy.  So I decided to just keep the shoes in the car and eventually, I would come upon a shoe repair place.

I was going really old school with this plan.  No yellow pages, no Googling….just decided I would see what I stumbled upon.  I like to keep things interesting like that.

So Tuesday, I was driving along after finishing a few errands and I spotted it, “Shoe Repair” tucked in a shopping center next to a Baskin Robbins.  No fancy name or much of a sign, simply “Shoe Repair”….but that’s exactly what I needed.  So I stopped, gathered up my little box and walked into what felt like a cobbler shop from a Disney Movie.

There were leather shoes in piles, in mountains really, everywhere.  Just piles and piles of shoes, nothing fancy AT ALLL.  A counter top with a hand-written note that said you paid before you dropped off your shoes and a little work station at the front of the store cluttered with all sorts of odd tools that looked like you could also probably make furniture with.

I was greeted by a middle-aged man, who was on the phone.  Greeted is probably not the right word…..acknowledged is more appropriate.  He made eye contact with me and I assumed that was my cue to explain why I was there.  So, I opened my box and pulled out the shoe….he never got off the phone…..I showed him where the velcro was no longer attached…..still the phone stayed up on his shoulder….I then asked if he thought that was something he could fix for me.  At this point, I think he went from being annoyed at my interrupting his phone call to straight up angry with me for insulting his abilities. He still didn’t put the phone down but said to me, “You will give me $7 and fifty cents and then come for your shoe tomorrow.” Instead, I gave him $8.00 and I think even that annoyed him that he had to give me change.  He continued to mutter under his breath, $7.50, I ask $7.50.

He had a little desk calendar by the register that said something about Russia on it.  At first, I considered telling him that I too had ties to Russia, but decided upon handing over my money that might just push him over the edge.

I’ll be honest, I was worried about leaving my little Tom, not really sure if we would ever see it again. I crossed my fingers and hoped for the best and figured if nothing else, it made for a fun story.

I didn’t go back to get the shoe on Wednesday because I hadn’t been told exactly when I should arrive.  I was afraid it might be too early and then he would get really mad.  So I waited till Thursday, and then ended up interrupting Angry Shoe Man’s russian version of American Idol.

I handed him my ticket and smiled.  He sneered.  The nerve of me to come into a store with an “Open” sign in the window. I was quickly handed my shoe, then had the shoe taken out of my hand and it placed into a bag.  No words were said.  I took the bag and said something chipper about how much I appreciated it, blah blah blah.  Shoe man just said, “That is all”.

Okay….well, I guess I’ll be going then.

The shoes look great though and if you’re even in need of a really grumpy man to fix some velcro on your canvas shoes, I highly recommend Vladmir at “Shoe Repair” in Germantown, Tn.

Thank you to the special Auntie and Uncle who gifted these shoes!

2. In honor of my birthday week and as a way of making it up to me that they didn’t go away for the weekend, my children are cleaning out my car.  I think this is very sweet of them yet at the same time, I feel like the current state of disgusting that it is in is completely their fault anyway.  Personally, I think that as soon as either one of them gets a paying job, their first big purchase should be a new car for me because of the way they have gunked up mine.  I suppose though that it will be a sad day when I get into my car and there isn’t at least the faint essence of rotting milk lingering.  Then, I will know that my children are truly no longer babies and are indeed growing up.

Doing a little wheel work

Hard at work

The crew chief who did most of the work. Thank you love

3. I hope ya’ll are as excited about the Race to the Chase at your house as we are here at ours.  I hope if nothing else, from reading my blog you have developed at least a tiny curiosity in NASCAR and there is no better time to start following then right here at the Chase (the playoffs of NASCAR).  It’s possible that Reese and I ordered a few little cars last Sunday to complete our collection of the top 13 teams of this season.  We enjoy lining our little cars up in the same order that the actual cars are running during the race.  Our team came in 4th today.

Maybe next time.

I especially like how we have the tow truck on the side just waiting for “the big one”

On a positive note however, my 5-year-old is learning his numbers really well and can not only count using actual numbers, but also by drivers names.  I feel like that’s a pretty unique talent.

4. I drove around this week with something in my car that I would be willing to bet not one of you that reads this has ever had as a passenger in your automobile.  I spent two days afraid that if I were to get in an accident, I might be profiled as a serial killer or even worse, they might do something with my special passenger and I would lose it forever.  So what was driving around my trunk?

A hefty bag of 100% human hair.

We have a bit of a mole problem in our yard and Brandon read somewhere that human hair helps to get rid of moles.  I don’t know the details of how you apply the hair, that i really didn’t want to know.  But he contacted our hair lady about his special needs and when I stopped by to say hello and show off Mattie’s cute new shoes the other day, I was handed a huge bag of hair.  I forgot about the hair the first day and it wasn’t until I was stopped at a light and looked in my rear view mirror to see Reese trying his hardest to poke a hole in the trash bag perched there on the seat beside him.  “Don’t break that bag, it’s full of hair!” I may have yelled at him.  Reese rode the rest of the way in silence, I think slightly terrified at why his mother had a bag o hair and yet equally fascinated by it, as well.

The bag of hair is now in my garage.  Serving my family and my yard well.

Thanks so much for checking in on us and I wish you all a fantastic week!

Rain, You Are Not My Friend

It’s raining outside.  normally, that would be a nice thing.  I like rain on Friday nights.  It seems to bring a cozy feeling and our friday nights are all about cozy feelings.  I also prefer cool on Friday  nights, but I will be content with the rain for now.  Anyway, we always have soup for dinner on Friday nights and that pairs really fantastically with rain.

Today though…..on this particular Friday night…….I am not pleased with the rain.

This weekend was supposed to be Mattie’s Adventurer Club camping trip and it had been all figured out that since Lila isn’t really a good fit with tent sleeping these days and also has a pretty hearty cold, I would stay home with her and Brandon would take Things 1 and 2.  I am going to be downright completely honest with you here……I have been looking so forward to this weekend.  Not that I want my husband and older children to disappear by any means.  I like them and like having them around.  It’s just that it has been forever, FOREVER since I was partially alone and I was really just looking forward to the downtime.

I go and visit my parents every 6 weeks or so and even though he says he misses us terribly, I think Brandon likes having some quiet time.  The house is quiet, it stays clean and things stay where he leaves them.  He can eat whatever he wants and doesn’t have to share with several other people.  He gets work done and rests and is usually really happy when we return, but I don’t think he’s ever once asked us to come back early.

I was looking forward to that.

But it rained.

And they are all still here.

I was kinda excited about only having to fix my hair in the morning and thinking maybe I could sleep in a little, maybe even take my coffee out on the deck.

I would take only the diaper bag to church and not the “Sabbath Bag” complete with books and crayons and whatever else they’ve snuck in there.

I had planned to stop and get a salad from Panera for lunch on the way home and take the nap I have fantasized about since first having children.  Lila and I would then watch Lifetime television after our epic nap.  She could play with her plastic animal friends and wouldn’t be bothered at all by the inappropriate for children tv movie I was planning to enjoy.

But that’s okay.

I am reminding myself that I have years of Lifetime movies on the couch alone in my quiet, clean house coming up way too soon anyway.

I also suppose it’s okay that they are here when they do funny things like this:

And this is both hilarious and disturbing at the same time….much like his straightened hair

Weird

Lila was not happy…….she wanted a handle bar moustache instead

Its strange, but after she wore this a while, it seemed almost normal

Brandon and I pride ourselves on our stone wall will against our children.  People often say to us, how can you ever say no to those little faces?  And I tell them it’s extremely easy.  Our friend Neely says that Reese especially, would be rotten if he were hers because she could never get upset with him.  But not us, their tricks don’t work on us……………

…..except when they wear mustaches.

You can’t be a stone wall when your 8-year-old daughter is wearing her fancy, silky night-gown and a ring master mustache on her upper lip.

They have found the chink in our armor.

If they can’t go away for the weekend, I guess bringing home mustaches will make it okay.

This time………

 

Smocked Dresses

We did something Thursday that seemed very hoity-toity.  I have to admit that when I said out loud to Brandon what was on the docket for the day, it made me feel like I was slightly more important that him.  I would be taking the children to a special story time at the bookstore here in town that also thinks it’s slightly more important than the other book stores.  We would be listening to well-known author, Nancy Tillman, read her latest children’s book I’d Know You Anywhere, My Love. This is a person who has sold many a book and won many an award.  She is on important lists and charts.  She is important.  And I was taking my little people to see her.  We would also probably be coming home with an autographed book.  That also sounds important, doesn’t it? 

If you aren’t familiar with Ms. Tillman, let me just share a tiny snippet of some of the preciousness

From I’d know you anywhere, about a little child pretending to be other animals,

And if one fine day you got bored and you said,

“Today I’m not me, I’m a lion instead”

even if I’d never heard it before, I’d know

it was you by the sound of your roar.

Would you mind roaring a second or two?

See, without question, I’d know it was you.

Or This part

Fox or koala, giraffe or raccoon…

anything, anywhere under the moon.

Whatever it is you imagine to be,

I’ll just be so proud you belong to me

I’ll kiss every whisker and smooth every hair….

Because child of mine, I’d know you anywhere.

So Sweet!

Anyway, on the way there, Reese asked if we would be stopping by the fire hall again.  I said no, but asked if he would have liked to…..because the day before, he seemed just a little frightened of the whole experience.  I wasn’t sure if he was asking in hopes of, or hoping not.  He said he would be okay if we just heard our story, but he did want to know….are all firemen giants or just ours?

The lightbulb went off.

And it’s true, at that particular hall, everyone was at least a good foot and a half taller than I am.  I know I felt like I was about 6 years old standing amongst, them so I can only imagine how he felt.  Have you ever heard of the Fireman Quality?  It means that a person, usually male, appears to have the ability to just pick you up and move you from one point to another. Much the same as a fireman would have to do in order to remove a passed out me from my burning house.  I remember in college-days using this term to describe various young men in our lives.  It was a good way to describe their stature to one another. “So does he have the Fireman Quality? No, but he’s still bigger then I am.” Any one of these guys could have easily packed me around in a Baby Bjorn they were so……Fireman-like.

It’s good to know the Memphis Fire Department at Hall 21 could carry our entire family out in one trip.

Back to the original story though…………………………………………………………….

We arrived fashionable late, which was great because Reese has this thing about not sitting too close to the teller/ reader of a story.  We sang a few rousing renditions of “If You’re Happy and You Know it” and “The Hokey Pokey”, as well as some other selections that I was not familiar with and then Ms. Tillman began reading her first book, “On the Night You Were Born”.  And the kids went wild.

Not so much a we-love-this-book-hurray sort of wild, but more of an I-have-no-intention-of-listening-to-anything-not-being-sung-or-without-hand-motions sort of wild.  I have been really excited about this latest book coming out because they are all so beautifully written, and to be honest, sometimes just reading one of them can give me a renewed, kick in the pants love for my kiddos.  If you are about to pull your hair out about your kids or considering maybe locking them outside for a while…..reading just a few pages of a Tillman book will make you want to unlock that door and let those crazy monkey people back in the house.

We have the whole Nancy Tillman collection here…..and I often give one of her books as a baby shower gift.

I was just a little shocked that at this swanky book store, that doesn’t have a coffee nook or snack bar but more of a fine dining luncheon room…filled with young mothers and their children dressed in more smocking * than church on Easter morning. But there wasn’t a manner in sight!  Even if she was just any old anybody reading their story, they or their parents should at least attempt to be somewhat still and give some attention.  But she is the person who actually wrote the book and created the lovely illustrations. And it’s not just the wild banchee children that are talking, but their mothers, as well.  I was embarrassed for the East Memphis Moms.  All the boutique children’s clothing and high-end diaper bags can’t cover up the stink of bad manners.  So shame on you mothers that will never read this.  And to you Nancy Tillman who will also probably never read this, I loved getting to meet you and having you sign your newest book to my 3 babies.

*(you know what smocking is right?  Oh, the ladies of Memphis are huge fans.  They would smock their children’s skin if they could…and then monogram them.  And I will confess, my heart adores the smocking, too as well as a well placed monogram.  But I do not believe that ever day is a day worthy of smocked dresses and jon-jons.)*

********************************************************************************************************

Before I go for the night, I would like to leave you with some pictures because that’s always fun.  My mom saved a few of my little dresses, smocked of course.  Here is a picture of Mattie wearing my little frock:

Please pay no attention to my oddly colored hair

I wish that we had taken a photo closer up rather than one with jungle animals, but oh well

And thankfully, I hung on to it and Little got her chance to wear it, too:

Little was a little sassier during her turn with the dress, wouldn’t you say.  That girl is something else.

 

Tiny Words

My intentions for yesterday were to blog about the fashion phenomenon that has taken over in my neighborhood, more specifically with the women over 55.  That will just have to wait though because something else more important came along.

I wasn’t going to blog about September 11 because there just don’t seem words to express the feelings that people have about that day.  I have come to feel that it is such a mixed bag of emotions when I see old news coverage from that morning 12 years ago or when I read stories about the families of those left behind.  There is sheer terror and panic, I remember that feeling so well.  I remember on that morning I was eating breakfast, a bowl of cereal….something with flakes and I was going to just watch a smidge of the news to see the weather.  I saw no weather report that morning and looking back, I have absolutely no idea what the weather was like that day.

It was all so confusing and scary and no one seemed to know what was going on….but help was on the way.

And then the second plane hit.

It was my senior year of college and I was an education major.  I don’t remember if classes were cancelled or not, but somehow, everyone in my Methods class eventually stumbled in.  We had no where else that we knew to go.  It’s ironic, all of these young, eager beaver teachers sat that day with scared, wide eyes looking to our professor to tell us that it was all going to be okay.  I don’t remember us saying a word or really doing anything, except sitting there

Together

Almost too scared to go anywhere else.

I slept at my brother and sister in laws house that night.  Right smack between them in their bed and I very distinctly remember the sandwich we made.  All 3 of us huddled together, holding each other.

I was 2 weeks shy of 21 and in less than a month, I would be engaged.

But that night I curled up as close as I could to my big brother, I squeezed my eyes as tight as I possibly could and he held me so that I almost couldn’t breath.

That day I wished more than anything that I wasn’t a grown up and this wasn’t the world I was headed out into.

But those were just my initial feelings and I know so many more, SO MANY MORE, have much more horrific memories.  My words and thoughts seemed too small for such a monumental anniversary.

But then on the way to pick up Mattie, we drove by Station No 21 and saw the 343 little American flags planted in the front yard.  One flag for each fireman or paramedic who died that day, and their flag flying at half mast.

Standing amongst the flags

I had to stop.

Last year we took them cupcakes.  A simple, sugary gesture just to let them know that we appreciated their willingness to protect us.  This year, we had no baked goods.  But I stopped just the same and got all 3 of the kids out.  We paraded up to the station door, which had been propped open, I guess we weren’t the only visitors they had yesterday……and I proceeded to tell them that we had nothing for them, except hugs and thank you’s.

No, these particular men and woman were not in New York that day, but everyday here in Memphis, they get up and go to work with no idea what might be in store for them.  The bell rings and they go with no idea where exactly they are going and what lies ahead.  They have come to our house a few times, and probably had a funny story to take back to the hall, but they still came….within seconds.

I told them that we had no goodies, but they said more than anything, could we sit down and have a cookie with them…..as they had tons.  So we sat and ate some cookies and hugged some strangers….and I tried not to cry.

We got back out to our car and Mattie asked me why I always get cry-y when we go to the fire station on this day ( we go every year).  And I told her, in the best way I could, because I think she’s old enough to hear it.

That on that day, I was more scared than I have ever been in my life.  Though I was where I was supposed to be, I felt completely lost and was terrified to go anywhere.  Everything that seemed normal and safe before, was suddenly not.  I told her that I hoped she never, ever had a day like that in her life…..while silently praying for when that day does come because with everything going on in the world, it can’t be too far away…..but for me and so many others, it is a day that we still have nightmares about.

But not only that, I get all cry-y because my daddy does that same job that those firemen and paramedics in New York did.  I try not to think about it all that much, but my daddy goes to work every day, not to sit at a desk or see patients or teach people, but to come when they are in danger.  When the bell goes off for him at his work, he never knows what he is headed to….but he still goes.

And that makes me very scared, but also very proud of my daddy.

The tears came rather profusely then.

And I told her that every person in that room that we were just in would be willing to die if it meant saving her.  If our house was on fire and they knew the only way to rescue her was for them to not make it out, they would still come in and get her.

And to that, Mattie Belle Baughman said that our rescue people deserve WAY more than just cookies and cupcakes as a thank you. I couldn’t agree more Mattie Belle, I couldn’t agree more.

She was also a little upset by the whole idea of people attacking other people, which is clearly understandable, so I did what any other mom would do……I borrowed a line from Mr. Rogers.

When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, “Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.” To this day, especially in times of “disaster,” I remember my mother’s words and I am always comforted by realizing that there are still so many helpers – so many caring people in this world.”

I pray that my children, though they live in a scary world, hardly the world that I would have hoped for them, will choose to be helpers.  That they will look at the natural disasters, the hate, the wars and the destruction around them and instead of becoming hardened and angry, or depressed or scared…I pray that they will be part of the helpers.  And you are never too young or too little to be of some help.

I like to think even little Lila was of some “help” to the heroes we visited yesterday.

Posing with some of Memphis’s finest. Lila was not mad at him, I had just taken one of her cookies from her.

My words are small, pale and inadequate….but I wanted to share anyway.  If nothing else, to say that I am proud of the city I live in, I am proud of my country and its heart and bravery, and I am incredibly proud of my father and the other fathers and mothers who risk their lives every day to keep us all safe.

A Tired Like No Other

It is a form of exhaustion all its own.  Unique in its qualities and to really understand it, you must experience it.  It’s the sort of exhaustion that people speak about in hushed tones and there is a sort of respect that befalls on you when others hear that you are suffering from it.  Even strangers, when they recognize the signs that are usually etched upon you, will sort of step back and give you your space, allowing you a little extra time.  You have earned it.  Godspeed be with you as you attempt to carry on with the rest of your day.

What is this exhaustion that I am referring to?

I call it Field Trip Fatigue.

No matter what time you go to bed the night before, no matter how simple the chaperoning task is supposed to be.  It could be the museum, a visit to the nursing home, it doesn’t matter…..it will knock you out in a way that is only comparable to maybe camping with an infant.

It’s not just mentally exhausting, keeping up with all the kids in the blue polo shirts…wait a minute, that one isn’t ours.  I’m supposed to have 5 and I only have 4!

Navigating the gift shop…oh I hate the gift shops!

But usually there is a certain level of physical exhaustion in it as well, like having hiked across the zoo pushing a stroller and possibly carrying a kid or two.

Yesterday was the first Field Trip of the year for Mattie’s class, and like the good stay at home mom that I am (and one of the reasons that I gave Brandon for why I needed to be a stay at home mom) I went along as a driver and chaperone.

Our destination was the Botanical Gardens for a little outdoor school about Amazing Insects.

This was not only our first field trip of the year, but our first with new teachers.  And I don’t just mean new to us, these ladies are fresh off the vine new to the fun of taking lots of children that are not your own out in a public place.  I wasn’t nervous about this little outing, but I will admit, I was a little curious as to how everything was going to go down.

As is typical of me, I was running about 7 minutes late to the school.  And it was as if the previous teacher had left a little post-it note behind stating that this was how I rolled.  I got my routine, “just checking that you are indeed coming” phone call from new teacher just about the time I pulled into the parking lot.  So far, so good.

The kids were dispersed out to us parents and we were off.  We were handed directions, but so many of us have been going to these same places for so many years, that we hardly need them.  Our SUV’s and mini-vans just go on autopilot.  This was a different event than we are used to in the fall at the Botanical Gardens.  We usually go to a Harvest Festival – which let me just tell you after 3 years, I am sick and tired of learning about bat sonar, carving a face in an old apple and digging for cheapie candy in a hay stack.

We pulled up in our usual spot, only to discover that this particular outdoor school program wasn’t located in the same spot we were used to.  So those of us parents that had hauled out the strollers for the younger siblings had to quickly reassemble everything.  The new teachers seemed afraid that we might turn on them as we stood, ready to hoof it into adventure and they had to tell us we were in the wrong spot.  No worries, we are all old pros and within seconds those strollers were stashed and kids were re-buckled.  We are like ninjas when it comes to child transportation.

We divided into two groups and were off.

Things were looking good.  Out of this world, amazon-like humid, but still very good.

That is until our group arrived at the “Insect Olympics” post.  The children were taught about one particular insect that can carry over 60 times its own body weight.  To illustrate what that must be like, a garden cart with the wheels removed and filled with gardeny dirt and rocks had been placed on the little path and had these two very sturdy ropes attached.  The children were encouraged to go ahead and see how far they could drag the wheel-less, rock and dirt-filled, extremely heavy cart.  Of course the cart never moved.

After everyone had a turn attempting to drag the huge obstacle, it was decided that as a team, they should all try to see if they could lift the cart.  And lo and behold, they were able to lift it about a whole 2 inches and everyone got EXTREMELY excited!  Oh the cheering and high-fiving!  It was pretty much the most incredible thing ever!!!!!! And then I noticed that one little voice was not cheering.  Screaming, yes…but not in a happy, cheering sort of way.  No, the little girl attached to the  little voice was actually terrified and screaming out that her foot was under the big, huge heavy garden cart.

I will tell you friends, they say that a mother pumped full of adrenaline can pick up a car in order to save her child.

Well…….

I did not pick up that garden cart, I didn’t even try.  But I did pull that little child from under the now terrible and horrible, heavy garden cart.  I thought she might be exaggerating a little bit, but I actually had to put a little umph into yanking her out.  As I freed her, a teacher swept in to pick her up and another mama came out of nowhere (one who is also a nurse) and in a flash had the shoe and sock off checking for swelling and bruising.  We were like Superman, Batman and Captain America….but even better….we were like moms.

Our day at the gardens ended pretty well.

I am pretty sure that my son went behind a tree to relieve himself while our whole group was having their picnic lunch.  I didn’t ask and he didn’t volunteer any information.  I am also pretty sure that he didn’t choose a tree necessarily far away from the rest of the group.

But overall, it was a good time.

The kids were good, though we the parents forgot who we were in charge of a few times, and I noticed on more than one occasion a child who was not my #3, and wasn’t even mine, riding in the stroller I was pushing, but the kids seemed to know where they were supposed to be.  We have trained them well.  Fun was had and no blood was shed.  We thought there could have been some broken bones there for a bit, but it all turned out fine.

I was feeling hot, but pretty good…..until I unloaded my charges back at school.  And then it hit me!

Oh My Word!

My body felt like I had carried them all home on my back and I could barely keep my eyes open.  It was like they had drugged me or something with their singing in the back seat.

Kids #2 and #3 were asleep when I pulled into our driveway and I will be honest, it was tempting to set the alarm on the phone and all three of us just conk out there in the garage.  But the heat….the unbearable heat.  I managed to somehow carry their now heavy-as-that-de-wheeled-garden-cart, bodies up to their little beds.

And then I did set that alarm on my phone and I fell asleep instantly right beside Reese.  I’m pretty sure my whole body wasn’t even all the way on the bed, but it didn’t matter at all.

Here 36 hours later, I am still fighting it.

So the next time you are in the store and you happen to notice a person with a sticker that says, ” Visitor” you know the kind they give you at museums and such, offer to buy them a coffee or at least have patience with their slow speed and frazzled mind.  It is highly possible they have been on a field trip with their child’s class and they are now trapped in the fog and fatigue that comes along with that.  They have been in the trenches, show them some mercy…..and possibly offer them a ride home as it might not be safe for them to drive.

* As a little side note, our newbie teachers did incredible.  You would never in a million years know that this was their first rodeo.  They have been trained well and are just fantastic ladies.  I like to think we are a pretty awesome group of moms assisting them as well, but still, lets give credit where it is due.  You did fantastically ladies!

* And there are no pictures from this outing because, are you kidding me, I was busy trying to make sure we didn’t come home with children that weren’t ours and rescuing crushed feet and hoping my child wasn’t eating poisonous leaves (because they have them there you know).  Also, I know that parents have or have not signed releases about their children’s picture being taken and used for school purposes, but I haven’t passed around one of my own to get permission about putting them here on the ol’ blog.  I figured I should probably hold off on putting up pictures of Mattie’s classmates on the internet.

Okay, it’s time for bed now and tomorrow I will share with you the phenomenon that is sweeping the neighborhood.  I know, how in the world are you going to be able to sleep with that kind of anticipation!!!!!!

Weekend, You are Welcome Here

Friends, I am tired tonight.  Just plum worn out and ready to throw the towel in.  I know that it has technically been a short week, but for those of us who’s schedule really didn’t change, that’s not so true.  I had to go to work on Monday, though I did appreciate the handsome help that was also here with me.

Truly though, this week has just been HARD! And it seems like I’m not the only one that feels this way.  There has been much talk around the mommy community about how slow we have all felt and how the kids have just been particularly difficult.  It’s like instead of them all getting a stomach virus that they are passing around at school its something far worse.

Bestie Stephanie and I were talking today (we have had to have daily phone sessions this week to try to cope with our children) and she described the woes of a stay at home mom very well.  To our husbands or partners that work outside of the home, we know that you work very, very hard.  But at the end of the day, you can say you have done something.  Maybe its a stack of paperwork moved from one pile to another, an account closed, a list of patients seen….whatever, you have some proof that you have accomplished something.  We stay-at-homers have something quite the opposite.  Instead of getting to mark things off of our lists, we have little gremlins that follow behind us and undo everything that we just did.  Example #1, I swept my kitchen floor for the 3rd time today and decided to pull out the Swiffer and mop the hallway.  Not two seconds after I had put the Swiffer away, Reese spilled a box of Kix cereal all over the floor.  Then proceeded to walk on the cereal, smashing it into Kix dust.  Gremlin

Example #2 I made breakfast for Mattie, got everything cleaned up and put away and then just as I sat down to drink my coffee, here came Reese for his breakfast and soon after that Lila for hers.  It was about 2 hours of breakfast preparation and then clean up.  Gremlins, I tell you……

I could go on and on, but my point is that the reason that when husband gets home and wonders what I have done all day and I get sofrustrated because he can’t look around and see all the work I have been slaving away, it’s because the Gremlins have been working equally as hard to undo everything.

My little Gremlins in particular are very hard workers.

So I am tired.

And I will be leaving you with a 7 Years Ago Today picture.

She had been playing in Daddy’s ties and then we found her like this. Dress up is exhausting!

Enjoy and have a lovely weekend!

A Van, An Angry Woman, and A Light Bulb

Have you guys seen the new Honda Odyssey mini van?  I have been perfectly happy with my 7-seater SUV.  It drives like a truck and has captains chairs so no one has to climb over a seat.  There is room enough for all of us and I have plenty of room for other things.  I have envied my friend Stephanie’s magic doors, but otherwise, I have really been okay with my own vehicle.  But the other night while watching tv, a commercial came on that changed the way I will look at cars forever.

I can’t tell you anything about the commercial except that it must have been kind of gross at the beginning.  I say that because Brandon and I were in the middle of a conversation and he glanced up at the tv and said,”That’s gross….reminds me of your car.” And there were all these animated bits of crackers and fuzz balls and headless gummy bears.  I don’t know what happened after that, as we continued on with our conversation but then it showed the woman vacuuming the van then folding up the vacuum hose into…………..the van!  This vehicle comes equipped with its own in-house vacuuming system!  That’s the best idea ever.  It would only be better if you didn’t have to actually use a hose but instead could just push a button and all the vents would suck in instead of blow out, but still….wow!

I wonder if you can use it while driving?

The kids could clean up as they were riding!

Actually, that could be a terrible idea!  I already have to keep the older two out of arms reach of one another, I can only imagine the things I would have to yell from the front seat if there was a vacuum in the car.  “Reese, quit sucking up your sisters pigtails right now!” Yeah, that could really be incredibly terrible.

And if I had the vacuum system actually in my car, that takes away at least 7 excuses as to why my car looks the way it does and I can guarantee you, I wouldn’t be cleaning it out anymore frequently. It sounds good in theory, but it’s kind of like those people on house hunters that say that need a nice big yard for the dog to go out and play.  The dog is a chihuahua, he doesn’t really require a football field for his recreation everyday.  Even if the dog is a lab, he still isn’t going to go out and run laps around the yard.  And you as the dog owners, are you really buying this house so that you can have daily fetch sessions?

You want it cause it sounds good and super practical, but use it……..that’s a different story.

So you excited me Honda Odyssey, and there for a minute you had me, but I came to my senses and will pass on your built-in cleaning systems.

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This girl is living with us right now.

This is my happy face

She looks like someone I once knew, maybe even birthed.  But this girl is MEAN!

See, it gets much worse

The yelling and pointing and don’t get me started on the hair pulling!  She wants me to carry her everywhere, yet scowls at me and pushes me away all at the same time.  Don’t even think about touching her things, there will be angry hollering and possibly some pushing and kicking.  To say that she has become a bit possessive would be an understatement.  I’m not sure how she has come up with the idea that she has any personal possessions in this house at all, maybe that’s what it all comes down to….she just realized the cold hard truth and it isn’t sitting well.

She may as well be saying, “I hate you mom!” because that is how she has made me feel much of today

I poured her a bowl of cereal the other morning and she was perfectly happy.  Then she watched me pour Reese a bowl from the same box.  Her eyes narrowed and her brow furrowed.  The accusatory finger thrust out and she wailed.  She was clearly letting me know that she felt that was her cereal and she did not approve of my sharing it with her brother.

The calming draw of Mr. Rogers

Good luck on that one sister.

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This past weekend, Mattie was introduced to the wonders of the Easy Bake oven.  We have had it for over a year now.  I bought it last year at one of my sales and it was new in an unopened box.  It was also only $5.  A steal!  We have been searching for the right kind of light bulb, as it doesn’t use much of anything that is actually at the store and in our searching, we end up forgetting about it.  But on this special holiday weekend, we felt like it was time.

Mattie ripped into the box, so thrilled at the prospect of cooking all of our family’s meals from now on.  And her excitement at finding mixes in the box so that she could immediately start to work on her baking, it was like electricity!

Turns out the oven is actually 7 years old.  Seven years new.  And those mixes….they had sat for a while.  The girl was terribly proud of her creations!

Baking with Nene

I have made several sacrifices as a parent, done several tasks that disgusted me or left me feeling a little panicky.  But very few have been as difficult to endure as taste testing her 7-year-old cake baked by a lightbulb.

I Just Remembered

Do you ever write yourself notes so you don’t forget things?  I do all the time.  I have little bits of paper in my wallet, on the counter in the bathroom, in the office and on the console in the car.  All little things that I need to remember not to forget.  My friend Stephanie jokes that I remember everything about our childhood and even the past few years.  If she questions what she was wearing for picture day in 4th grade, no worries, I remember.  Details about her wedding, our favorite restaurants, her shoe size even…j/k, I’m pretty sure she knows that one fine without my help, though I do know it.  She always says that she doesn’t have to remember  a thing because I remember it for the both of us and will tell her stories about when she was a little girl.

But to buy more trash bags……that is completely impossible for me to remember without writing it down in at least 2 places.  Something has to have made the list two days in a row for it to actually happen.  That’s why I start putting things I need to remember on the list a few days early, because they will probably be forgot a few times.

Well, I guess I forgot to put this on the list.  Fact is, I didn’t even forget that I hadn’t remembered until it was way too late.

So what is this that I have forgotten?

The name that I wanted to name a little girl should I have another one.

Actually, it was the name I wanted to name a little girl…period.  It was my short, short list.  But sometime during my college years, I decided that I loved my brother very, very much and I wanted to name my first child after him.  I had only ever met one other Mattie in my life, and I decided that would be a sweet little name should I have a little girl.  Had it been a boy, it would have been Reese Matthew probably.  I told him about this plan of mine and he seemed to think it was ridiculous.  Secretly though, I think he loved it.  And had I told him this plan in person rather than over the phone, I think he just may have cried.

Anyway, my point is that even though I had a name that I adored, my little girl would be named something completely different because it was more important that brother know how much he meant to me.  And wow am I so glad now that I did….even though my kid has a very unoriginal name now.  So that special name was tucked away to be used later…..and apparently forgotten.

The next kid that came along was a man-child so we went with the whole boy name thing.  He ended up being Reese Christian even though I was really pushing for Reese Matthew like I had previously planned.  Brandon said that was probably a bit much with the Mattness and I think he was probably right.

There wasn’t supposed to be a 3rd kid so there was no reason to even open up the baby name vault and take a peak around, clear things out and see what still fit.  I think we must have sold that baby name vault right along with most of our baby gear as soon as Reese grew out of things.

I wonder who has my baby name vault now?

Anyway, when we found out there was indeed another one on the way, we started pulling names out of thin air.  Things that we had never thought of before and by this point, most of the people around us were having babies so it was slim pickins’.  That’s a good thing when you are the first of just about everyone in your peer group and you have a baby of the opposite sex of the only 1 or 2 other people who are also pregnant.  All names are open real estate….but it was not that way this time around.

WE came up with Lila.  It was simple, yet seemed very feminine.  It was easy to spell and with a last name like Baughman, we like to be gentle on our kids.  Kindergarten is hard enough, then through a completely unphonetically correct name like Baughman into the mix and it just seems unfair.  So 4 letters, easy enough.  Technically, there are really only 3 in it that she has to remember…kind of like how we helped Reese out, though he often spells it, Resee or Resse or my favorite, Reeeeeese. You still get the picture and no who the paper belongs to.

I also only knew 2 other Lila’s, one was my rather distant cousin who is much older than me, probably a grandmother now and who I haven’t seen in about 15 years.  The other I knew from college days, but we weren’t close enough for her to think that I was secretly fascinated with her and now naming my child after her.  So Lila it was and Lila I loved……until last night, Brandon remembered what I had so long forgotten….Our name.  He said it so casually, like he would say he forgot to pick up bread on the way home.  Oh rats, we missed naming any of our children that name that we completely loved and thought about all the time. Shoot!

Now I am trying to figure out how to convince Lila that she must name her own little girl that name and make her think it’s completely her idea.  Mattie already has baby names picked out and though I truly doubt that she will name my grandbabies after the 4 children from the Chronicles of Narnia, there is always that chance.  I have thought about calling all of Lila’s baby dolls this name from here on out and maybe that will help in sink in.  Then again, from 1983 until about 1988, I think I named every last doll of mine Chrissie, every single one….yet when the time came to name my own children, that one didn’t really even come into discussion.

I have considered passing it on to someone else, but you know what, I really don’t think I want to share.  Is that wrong, because I really don’t feel wrong about it.

We could name a dog that but really, that isn’t going to cut it.  Though we probably will name a dog our boy name we didn’t get to use since Lila was a girl.  Some how that seems okay to me.

Anyway, the point of this post is that all the lists in the world won’t help you to remember things if they still get tucked away.  If things aren’t out in the open where you remember to think about them, you’ll forget you even had them in the first place.  I tear out ideas from parenting magazines all the time, ideas for games and recipes to try with the kids, crafts and that sort of thing.  But then I file them away or put them in a “safe place”. However, unless I also remind myself that I have such a place or a file, they really dont’ do me any good because I never remember that I tucked them away.

The things that matter most, keep them where you’ll never forget them.  Your people, your beliefs, your dreams, your memories, your relationships. Write them down, take pictures and listen to what they say.

These are your treasures

 

I’m Her Big Cat Daddy, She’s My Little Miss Honky Tonk

That title has absolutely nothing to do with anything I will be writing about today.

I hope you all have had a lovely Labor Day long weekend.  Ours has been pretty close to perfect.  Papa and Nene arrived late Friday evening to spend some time with us.  We hadn’t seen them since Reese’s birthday party in late July, and even then, it had only been for a few hours.  We had nothing on the agenda at all so there was plenty of time for long walks around the neighborhood with the new pup, trips to get donuts, Papa taking care of some “Honey-Do’s” with Brandon, lots of lounging around, naps, staying in my pajamas for the entire day yesterday, and some big time “spa love” between Mattie and Nene.

After having several weeks of places to be and things to do, and the weekends ahead looking equally booked – it was so nice to just sit.  And my favorite part of the holiday weekend…..Branodn not having to be at work today.  It’s amazing how much easier life can be when both parents are at home!

On another completely different note………………………………………………………….

So the other night I was having a late night, alone Target excursion.  I had been doing laundry and realized I was out of bleach.  That may have been a result of my bleaching the fire out of Lila’s little outfit a week or so ago.  We also needed a few other small things and after getting the kids all set, I was off by myself.  *

I love a good stroll through TArget, but it’s almost heavenly when it’s by myself.  I get to look at things, everything, and not feel rushed or afraid that the basket, kids and I are going to get stuck somewhere.  I don’t have to stop to take someone to the bathroom or worry that Lila is wiping her snacky hands on any merchandise.  I also enjoy not having strangers inform me that my child is standing up in the basket.  Look people, I know she’s there.  She’s not going to jump I promise and I also know it’s terribly unsafe, but you try to find a way to keep her in there.  If I duct taped her in the basket, you would probably have a problem with that, too.

So I was enjoying my time.  I checked out the new fall collection in the baby department.  You’re gettin a’little steep in some of your pricing there Target.  Twenty dollars seems a bit high for a dress/ cardigan combo.  Doesn’t mean people won’t pay it, I’m just thinking out loud here.  I did love all the sale racks!  And found some of the most darling little swim suits for Lila Bird and just a skip over in the girls department, came across a real find of some new shorts for Mattie to wear under her school skirts.  Her current play shorts were getting to be more like booty shorts and the whole purpose of wearing them so  she wasn’t being indecent while hanging upside down on the monkey bars didn’t seem to apply anymore.  I am slightly ashamed to share this with you all, but the other day, a friend claimed that they saw Mattie’s underpants and when she said they didn’t, they replied back that yes they had, they were blue.  To prove the friend wrong, as Mattie loves to do, she just lifted up her skirt to show that they were indeed not her underpants.  I chose some very loud neon shorts that were long enough to not be confused with her underpants.  These shorts were presented to her with a reminder that just because she was wearing them, didn’t mean she had to show them to everyone.

So here I was, parked in the soap aisle with my tiny girls swim suits and 4 pairs of neon little girls bike shorts.  I had just picked up a new bottle of dish soap and was taking time to smell the candles when I noticed someone standing at the front of the aisle, appearing a little distraught, slightly confused and like they were trying to get my attention without coming right out and saying, “Hey you.” I looked up and made eye contact, which seemed to be an invitation to come on down the aisle to The Lurker.  He approached me and quickly got right to business, asking me if he could ask a question, then immediately went right in to tell me that he was not hitting on me.  I told him that was fine and sure, ask away. (On the inside, I was thinking to myself that since he felt he needed to clarify that he was not hitting on me, that there could have been a possibility that in some other situation he would have been hitting on me.  That was enough for me.  I don’t imagine that one would feel the need to clarify things if there were absolutely  no chance of something happening.) So it was about then that I noticed he was holding a bottle of hand soap.  He then handed it to me and asked if I had any idea how to open said soap.

Sure you’re not hitting on me there fella.

I took the soap and tried to open it, unlocking the little dispenser and for the life of me, I couldn’t do it.

Maybe he wasn’t hitting on me after all.

Soap Guy then confessed that he was super embarrassed, but he had this same soap at home and he had been unscrewing the top every time he needed to wash his hands.  I told him that my advice to him would be to find a different soap.

He asked me to open any other one and he would just buy that one.  So I did.  I then handed it to him and told him he was all set, at least for about a month and then hopefully he would find someone else in the soap aisle to help him open a new one.

I then went on my own way.

I’m pretty sure that soap guy really wasn’t trying to pick me up, but still, it didn’t hurt my feelings any.

* When I was off by myself, I didn’t leave the kids alone…they’re father was with them.

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One last little thing, if I were to make a sister blog to this one, I would name it Loads of Failure.  It would be all about my laundry mishaps, the huge mistakes that I continue to make almost every week even though I have been doing laundry or at least assisting to some degree since I was in the single digits.

I shared a few entries ago about what I did to Lila’s outfit.  That one still hurts

But then I did a real doozie this last week that made me truly want to throw up a little.  Actually, I’m not putting the entire blame on myself here because I really don’t think it happened because of something I did.

But still…….

So sometime during the week leading up to our visit to Arkansas, something slightly damp got tossed in the kids laundry basket.  This wasn’t good, but probably would have been okay had I done the laundry on Monday like I usually do.  However, do to us not being home, laundry didn’t get touched until Thursday, which mean that damp whatever got to hang out for a while a wreck a little havoc.

So Thursday when I was sorting clothes, I came to a  screeching halt when I saw a little outfit of Lila’s that had a huge black mold spot.  Luckily, this little outfit was too small anyway so it wasn’t a complete loss.  I did plan on reselling it next spring, but whatever.  My heart skipped a beat completely though when I reached into the laundry basket and pulled out Mattie’s only white, school polo shirt.  All across the shirt was that horrid black mold! The shirt was ruined and I wanted to sit down on the floor and cry.  We may have come into a ton of uniform jumpers lately, but we didn’t have a ton of shirts – only 3 and the other two were both navy.  Navy shirts look kind of silly with navy skirts and shorts, so that one white top had been pretty important to us.  I was also incredibly excited about getting to go through 3rd grade without making any visits to the uniform store.

I did attempt to wash the polo and of course it didn’t come clean.  We went to the uniform store and I frowned and moped the whole time I spent $45 on two new shirts (I figured I better get one more just to be safe).  And then I decided that I should try my mega skills with bleach on the shirt, I mean, it was already ruined, right?  So I got what I had handy, a small paint brush and went to work.  The moldy, black spots seemed to at least be changing colors, that seemed like a good sign.

To make a long story short, the bleaching seemed to do the trick and after washing it, the shirt did not fall apart in the washing machine.  For now, I think it just might be okay.  Two of Lila’s outfits and a pair of pajamas…..they are goners.

Every single load, there are casualties…..every single time.

Loads of Failure.

Happy short work week!