You know who you are...
Like a waterfall in slow motion, Part One
3 years ago
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Monday, September 24, 2007
Good Morning, Sunshine!
I don't know about you all, but for me, nothing says "Good Morning World!" like climbing out of bed and stepping right in the middle of a big ole pile of dog shit.
I encourage all of you to look for the piles of dog shit in your life and start steppin' away.
Now if you'll excuse me, a certain weiner dog and I have some business to discuss.
I encourage all of you to look for the piles of dog shit in your life and start steppin' away.
Now if you'll excuse me, a certain weiner dog and I have some business to discuss.
Sunday, September 23, 2007
My Guys
Twas not a good night in the house of York.
Jax woke up about 1:30 with a 102 degree fever, burning up like he hasn't in such a long time. I should have known it was coming. It's been too long since someone was really sick, we were due.
Shawn was still closing the restaurant, not that it would have mattered, so I gave him so medicine, put a cold rag on his head, and took up my place alongside him in bed.
About 15 minutes later, Shawn gets home, finds me with Jax, and I give him the bad news.
"Did you give him some medicine?"
I love questions like these, don't you, ladies? I know he's trying to be thoughtful, and his motives are merely concern for his son, but are you serious?? Ugghhh.
Anyway, I assure him that the retard he's left in charge of his kids all these years has taken care of everything, and he should just go to bed. So he does.
Then around 4:30 am, I wake up as Jax is thrashing around at the opposite end of the bed, feel his much much cooler forehead, re-tuck him in and creep my way back to my bed.
Not 10 minutes later, Ryan comes stomping in, heavy with sleep, complaining that she can't turn her music on and could I please come and fix it for her.
Sure, who wants sleep anyway? So overrated.
But I do sleep until 6:30 when Jax is up again, and both kids are begging for cereal.
3 hours later, and I'm running the bath water for Ryan, telling Jax not to get in the bathtub, and walk to our room to get Shawn up for church. 2 seconds later, Ryan cries out, "Mom! Jax is in the tub! In his pajamas! And his DIAPER!!"
Holy Jesus, that child is lucky he is sick and it is Sunday.
Anyway, Shawn comes down about 10 am, dressed and ready, waiting for me to finish cooking his bacon and eggs.
He grabs me in a big bear hug, kisses me and says, "How are ya, babe?"
"I'm PMS'ing," I reply.
"Awww, shit," he says, pulling away.
"Thanks for the support, baby."
"Anytime."
Jax woke up about 1:30 with a 102 degree fever, burning up like he hasn't in such a long time. I should have known it was coming. It's been too long since someone was really sick, we were due.
Shawn was still closing the restaurant, not that it would have mattered, so I gave him so medicine, put a cold rag on his head, and took up my place alongside him in bed.
About 15 minutes later, Shawn gets home, finds me with Jax, and I give him the bad news.
"Did you give him some medicine?"
I love questions like these, don't you, ladies? I know he's trying to be thoughtful, and his motives are merely concern for his son, but are you serious?? Ugghhh.
Anyway, I assure him that the retard he's left in charge of his kids all these years has taken care of everything, and he should just go to bed. So he does.
Then around 4:30 am, I wake up as Jax is thrashing around at the opposite end of the bed, feel his much much cooler forehead, re-tuck him in and creep my way back to my bed.
Not 10 minutes later, Ryan comes stomping in, heavy with sleep, complaining that she can't turn her music on and could I please come and fix it for her.
Sure, who wants sleep anyway? So overrated.
But I do sleep until 6:30 when Jax is up again, and both kids are begging for cereal.
3 hours later, and I'm running the bath water for Ryan, telling Jax not to get in the bathtub, and walk to our room to get Shawn up for church. 2 seconds later, Ryan cries out, "Mom! Jax is in the tub! In his pajamas! And his DIAPER!!"
Holy Jesus, that child is lucky he is sick and it is Sunday.
Anyway, Shawn comes down about 10 am, dressed and ready, waiting for me to finish cooking his bacon and eggs.
He grabs me in a big bear hug, kisses me and says, "How are ya, babe?"
"I'm PMS'ing," I reply.
"Awww, shit," he says, pulling away.
"Thanks for the support, baby."
"Anytime."
Saturday, September 22, 2007
I guess we can give her a pass on that one...
Ryan came up to my room just now, asking for help into a dress she wanted to wear. Having just finished watching "Freaky Friday", I asked her how it was.
"Good," she said. "I closed my eyes evertime they kissed."
"Well that's a relief," I replied.
2 beats later, she pipes up, "Weeellll, there was one time when I had to open my eyes because I fell off the couch and wanted to get back up, but luckily I didn't see the kissing."
Luckily.
"Good," she said. "I closed my eyes evertime they kissed."
"Well that's a relief," I replied.
2 beats later, she pipes up, "Weeellll, there was one time when I had to open my eyes because I fell off the couch and wanted to get back up, but luckily I didn't see the kissing."
Luckily.
Friday, September 21, 2007
Lunchtime Follies
Jax and I took lunch up to Ryan this morning, and it was just as exciting as always. Being the silly mommy I am, I like to twist words around and say funny things, insuring that I am not only loved but clamored everytime we go up there. (Is the big L on my forehead blazing, or what?)
Anyway, today one of the little boys was talking about Transformers this and Transformers that, so I asked him, "You must really Love Transformers. Are you gonne MARRY them?" (snicker, snicker)
He just looked at me crazily and said, "Nooo, but I am gonna marry my Transformer toys."
umm, okay.
Later, when one of Ryan's friends asked me my name (again) I said, "Queen Rammalammadingdong," at which point she made a funny face at me and sort of backed away.
I turned to Ryan and said, "I think your friend thinks I'm weird, Ry."
All of a sudden the Transformer boy pipes up, "Well I think you're pretty. Except for your eyes, I mean."
ummm, okay.
And finally, it took us 15 minutes to walk from the school to the parking lot, because as Jax has just acquired his first "Thomas" train, he insists on rolling it everywhere we go. On his knees. Through the halls, onto the patio, across the nasty black-topped parking lot...
Anyway, today one of the little boys was talking about Transformers this and Transformers that, so I asked him, "You must really Love Transformers. Are you gonne MARRY them?" (snicker, snicker)
He just looked at me crazily and said, "Nooo, but I am gonna marry my Transformer toys."
umm, okay.
Later, when one of Ryan's friends asked me my name (again) I said, "Queen Rammalammadingdong," at which point she made a funny face at me and sort of backed away.
I turned to Ryan and said, "I think your friend thinks I'm weird, Ry."
All of a sudden the Transformer boy pipes up, "Well I think you're pretty. Except for your eyes, I mean."
ummm, okay.
And finally, it took us 15 minutes to walk from the school to the parking lot, because as Jax has just acquired his first "Thomas" train, he insists on rolling it everywhere we go. On his knees. Through the halls, onto the patio, across the nasty black-topped parking lot...
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Roberts Family Fun Time
So Lea Ann was in town this weekend, meaning we all spent 4 glorious days gorging ourselves on junk food, laying around watching tv, playing Phase 10 and napping.
Many fights were had, many names were called, but such is the case with my sisters and I.
The good news? Menana finally got her family portrait:
Here are a few of my faves:
The kiddos... 
The folks...
Big Daddy & his girls... 
Lea & Ry...
How hot is my mom??? 
3 perfect bitches...
Brother Man... 
...with his Daddy...
Me & my gorgeous girl... 
Walking away...AND, Coming Soon to a Christmas Card near You:
Sunday, September 16, 2007
I'm Invisible
My very dear friend and one of my many Mommy Mentors sent this to me, and I just couldn't keep it to myself. Thanks Elisa!!
I'm invisible..... It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, "Can't you see I'm on the phone?" Obviously not.
No one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all. I'm invisible.
Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this?
Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, "What time is it?" I'm a satellite guide to answer, "What number is the Disney Channel?" I'm a car to order, "Pick me up right around 5:30, please."
I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated summa cum laude -- but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again.
She's going .. she's going ... she's gone!
One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England. Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself as I looked down at my out-of-style dress; it was the only thing I could find that was clean. My unwashed hair was pulled up in a banana clip and I was afraid I could actually smell peanut butter in it.
I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, "I brought you this." It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription: "To Charlotte, with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees."
In the days ahead I would read -- no, devour -- the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work: No one can say who built the great cathedrals -- we have no record of their names. These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished. They made great sacrifices and expected no credit. The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.
A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, "Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it." And the workman replied, "Because God sees."
I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, "I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become."
At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride. I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder; As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on. The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.
When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, "My mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand-bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table." That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, "You're gonna love it there."
As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.
I'm invisible..... It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, "Can't you see I'm on the phone?" Obviously not.
No one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all. I'm invisible.
Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this?
Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, "What time is it?" I'm a satellite guide to answer, "What number is the Disney Channel?" I'm a car to order, "Pick me up right around 5:30, please."
I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated summa cum laude -- but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again.
She's going .. she's going ... she's gone!
One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England. Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself as I looked down at my out-of-style dress; it was the only thing I could find that was clean. My unwashed hair was pulled up in a banana clip and I was afraid I could actually smell peanut butter in it.
I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, "I brought you this." It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription: "To Charlotte, with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees."
In the days ahead I would read -- no, devour -- the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work: No one can say who built the great cathedrals -- we have no record of their names. These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished. They made great sacrifices and expected no credit. The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.
A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, "Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it." And the workman replied, "Because God sees."
I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, "I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become."
At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride. I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder; As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on. The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.
When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, "My mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand-bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table." That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, "You're gonna love it there."
As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.
Friday, September 14, 2007
Foto Friday
I was just outside doing laundry when I happened to glance up and actually pay attention to what I'd just hung:
Not a shirt I would wear to a PTA mtg, but great to sleep and clean in! My Dad bought it for me, (thank you, thank you very much), and it probably wouldn't be that big a deal if the guy living behind us wasn't a minister. Oops.
It gets better. I look over and I see this:
Shawn's old baseball shirt from Lutheran High North, which is super comfy and which I LOVE to wear, as a normal wife probably would. The conundrum we find ourselves in, however, is that we live in Round Rock, and their rivals are the Leander Lions, whose colors also happen to be, say it with me: red and blue.
It took me a while to realize it when we first moved here, but after I'd gotten several crazy looks at the Y years ago, I put two and two together, so now I really only ever wear it indoors or at the Cedar Park (Leander) YMCA. Hee hee. (Go Dragons!)
The point is, I'm not sure which one I feel worse about the neighbors seeing hanging in our yard. These people know where we live, after all...
Speaking of dragons, would you please tell me if it is normal for children to lay on the couch like this to watch tv, or is it just mine? I have no idea how that even comes remotely close to being comfortable.
Not a shirt I would wear to a PTA mtg, but great to sleep and clean in! My Dad bought it for me, (thank you, thank you very much), and it probably wouldn't be that big a deal if the guy living behind us wasn't a minister. Oops.It gets better. I look over and I see this:
Shawn's old baseball shirt from Lutheran High North, which is super comfy and which I LOVE to wear, as a normal wife probably would. The conundrum we find ourselves in, however, is that we live in Round Rock, and their rivals are the Leander Lions, whose colors also happen to be, say it with me: red and blue.It took me a while to realize it when we first moved here, but after I'd gotten several crazy looks at the Y years ago, I put two and two together, so now I really only ever wear it indoors or at the Cedar Park (Leander) YMCA. Hee hee. (Go Dragons!)
The point is, I'm not sure which one I feel worse about the neighbors seeing hanging in our yard. These people know where we live, after all...
Speaking of dragons, would you please tell me if it is normal for children to lay on the couch like this to watch tv, or is it just mine? I have no idea how that even comes remotely close to being comfortable.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
... & A Shitty Night's Morning
Jaxson better start sleeping through the night soon, and Ry needs to cough up whatever's still hanging out in her chest from the cold she had last week, because if we don't get sleep asap, there WILL be blood shed.
Last night was torture, up and down all night long, and this morning we paid dearly.
Yelling, hitting, pushing, whining...and that was just me.
The highlight had to be, after yelling at Shawn, turning around and telling Ryan, who has Family Career Day at school, "When you talk about Daddy and his job, make sure you tell them how mean he is to Mommy."
To which Shawn rolls his eyes, calls me a name, and asks Ryan, "Do you believe that, Ry? Do you really think I'm mean to Mommy?"
"Yes."
Score 1 for Mom. Victory was bittersweet, though, seeing as how Shawn slammed the door so hard when he left that stuff fell off the walls.
Score 1 for Dad.
Last night was torture, up and down all night long, and this morning we paid dearly.
Yelling, hitting, pushing, whining...and that was just me.
The highlight had to be, after yelling at Shawn, turning around and telling Ryan, who has Family Career Day at school, "When you talk about Daddy and his job, make sure you tell them how mean he is to Mommy."
To which Shawn rolls his eyes, calls me a name, and asks Ryan, "Do you believe that, Ry? Do you really think I'm mean to Mommy?"
"Yes."
Score 1 for Mom. Victory was bittersweet, though, seeing as how Shawn slammed the door so hard when he left that stuff fell off the walls.
Score 1 for Dad.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
A Hard Day's Night
This evening the kids and I were eagerly awaiting Shawn's arrival -- it had been one of those days for him where he doesn't get a second to answer the phone, much less reply to emails or texts, so I knew he was needing a cold beer, a good meal and some excited greetings from the kids.
The greetings were covered, seeing as how the little monsters habitually sit at the window (a la "Cat in the Hat"), waiting to see his truck pull up, subsequently releasing ear-piercing screams and shrieks when at last that large red beacon lumbers its way into the drive.
The cold beer and hot meal proved to be a tad more difficult to accomplish.
In one of her "moods", Ryan decides to start playing jokes, pretending Shawn has pulled up, going so far as to unlock, open the door and scream, "Hi Daddy!" She is eagerly aided by Jax, who just lives to copy everything his big sister does (Note the fingernail polish on his big toe. And his ear.)
Hearing the tell-tale signs, I abandon my chicken-quesadilla-cooking post at the stove and quickly jump over to the freezer, pull out a mug, and empty a fresh beer into it, as I rush to the door to greet my man. I know, it sounds completely lame. I am completely lame, remember??
Anyway, lo and behold, I leave the kitchen to the sight of an empty entry way and the resounding echo of giggles.
"Ryan! I just poured a cold beer for Daddy -- now what am I gonna do with it?"
(She just continues to laugh)
"Don't do it again" I say, returning to the stove.
But of course, she does it a 2nd time, I fall for it (shut up), get irritated and say, "Ryan! Please stop! I want to make things nice for Daddy. He's had a long hard day."
"Well what about ME? I've had a hard day, too, you know, and you're not being very nice to me right now!"
(Stifling the obvious snort) "I'm sorry, Ry. I didn't know you'd had a hard day. What happened?"
Releasing one of her classic exasperated sighs, she replied, "You know, all the walking back and forth and back and forth."
"Where are you walking to?"
"The bathroom. And then we have to sit down and then stand up and sit down."
(long pause as she throws herself on the floor) "You don't even know how hard it is on the carpet at school. Gaawww."
Needless to say, Shawn got home later than planned, I drank the beer, and his food is sitting in the micro waiting to be re-heated.
And so it goes.
The greetings were covered, seeing as how the little monsters habitually sit at the window (a la "Cat in the Hat"), waiting to see his truck pull up, subsequently releasing ear-piercing screams and shrieks when at last that large red beacon lumbers its way into the drive.
The cold beer and hot meal proved to be a tad more difficult to accomplish.
In one of her "moods", Ryan decides to start playing jokes, pretending Shawn has pulled up, going so far as to unlock, open the door and scream, "Hi Daddy!" She is eagerly aided by Jax, who just lives to copy everything his big sister does (Note the fingernail polish on his big toe. And his ear.)
Hearing the tell-tale signs, I abandon my chicken-quesadilla-cooking post at the stove and quickly jump over to the freezer, pull out a mug, and empty a fresh beer into it, as I rush to the door to greet my man. I know, it sounds completely lame. I am completely lame, remember??
Anyway, lo and behold, I leave the kitchen to the sight of an empty entry way and the resounding echo of giggles.
"Ryan! I just poured a cold beer for Daddy -- now what am I gonna do with it?"
(She just continues to laugh)
"Don't do it again" I say, returning to the stove.
But of course, she does it a 2nd time, I fall for it (shut up), get irritated and say, "Ryan! Please stop! I want to make things nice for Daddy. He's had a long hard day."
"Well what about ME? I've had a hard day, too, you know, and you're not being very nice to me right now!"
(Stifling the obvious snort) "I'm sorry, Ry. I didn't know you'd had a hard day. What happened?"
Releasing one of her classic exasperated sighs, she replied, "You know, all the walking back and forth and back and forth."
"Where are you walking to?"
"The bathroom. And then we have to sit down and then stand up and sit down."
(long pause as she throws herself on the floor) "You don't even know how hard it is on the carpet at school. Gaawww."
Needless to say, Shawn got home later than planned, I drank the beer, and his food is sitting in the micro waiting to be re-heated.
And so it goes.
September Sweeps
Right, so we're chugging along at chunkyrhino.com, getting ready to move our products/services/blog to one site, but we've got to clean house first, which means we'll slowly be phasing out our cafepress products, in order to streamline our inventory.
What does that have to do with you, you ask? Weeellll, it means you get to save, save, save on some of the cutest designs for kids, 'rents, and more. Head over to the site now to get yours before they're gone -- sale ends September 30th!!
**We don't currently sell our cards at the cafepress site, but if you'd like to order, just shoot me an email and we'll get to work!!
What does that have to do with you, you ask? Weeellll, it means you get to save, save, save on some of the cutest designs for kids, 'rents, and more. Head over to the site now to get yours before they're gone -- sale ends September 30th!!
**We don't currently sell our cards at the cafepress site, but if you'd like to order, just shoot me an email and we'll get to work!!
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Monday, September 10, 2007
Susie Homemaker
Ladies and gentlemen, I believe we may have a Future Homemakers of America member in our midst:
Note the food in one hand, the duster in the other, and clearly he's been sidetracked from his cleaning schedule by his "stories".
Note the food in one hand, the duster in the other, and clearly he's been sidetracked from his cleaning schedule by his "stories".
Friday, September 7, 2007
My Own Personal Rainman
Oh Lord, what am I gonna do with this child?
Jax is into some phase right now (actually, it's been going on for a while now) where he incessantly repeats himself, regardless of how many times he's been responded to, or how many times he's been asked to stop.
It's at the point now where Ryan will interrupt when he's doing it to me in the car with a loud, exasperated, "SHE KNOWS, OK?? WE GET IT!" As irritating as it is, this does always make me laugh, like when Jax accidentally locks himself in his room and I pretend not to hear him banging.
Jax is into some phase right now (actually, it's been going on for a while now) where he incessantly repeats himself, regardless of how many times he's been responded to, or how many times he's been asked to stop.
It's at the point now where Ryan will interrupt when he's doing it to me in the car with a loud, exasperated, "SHE KNOWS, OK?? WE GET IT!" As irritating as it is, this does always make me laugh, like when Jax accidentally locks himself in his room and I pretend not to hear him banging.
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Playing Catch-Up
Whew! Week 1 down, and by the grace of God, Ryan came out smiling.
I say "by the grace of God", because here's how her week looked on paper:
Monday: 1st day of school, got in trouble for talking.
Tuesday: Had an accident in the bathroom and had to change clothes.
Wednesday: Some little girls made fun of her name ("Ryan? That's a boy's name!") when she tried to make friends with them.
Thursday: Mommy forgot to pack a snack, so she had nothing to eat at snack time.
Friday:Got in trouble for talking again, had her behavior chart moved to "YELLOW".
Now. Had this been my first week of school, I would have curled into a ball and declared the year over quicker than it began. But not Ry. The accident in the bathroom? No big deal. "All the kids were nappping, Mom, so I just had my friend tell my teacher and she brought me my clothes. No big deal." The teasing? " I just walked away and played with Chloe." No snack? Well, she was pretty pissed about that, and I can't say I blame her -- they eat lunch at 10:40, and don't get out of school until 2:30.
Of course, this morning she soo di dnot want to go to school, mostly because I woke up with her in my bed at 7:15, when we needed to leave the house at 7:30. So things were a little rushed, but Mama's on an organization craze, so it all went smoothly and after I promised her I'd have lunch with her today, she cheered right up.
Speaking of which, I've got to finish baking cookies for the office ladies before it's time to leave.
(#1 Rule I learned as a teacher: KISS the Office Ladies' Butts. They RUN the school.)
I'm off to pucker up!!
I say "by the grace of God", because here's how her week looked on paper:
Monday: 1st day of school, got in trouble for talking.
Tuesday: Had an accident in the bathroom and had to change clothes.
Wednesday: Some little girls made fun of her name ("Ryan? That's a boy's name!") when she tried to make friends with them.
Thursday: Mommy forgot to pack a snack, so she had nothing to eat at snack time.
Friday:Got in trouble for talking again, had her behavior chart moved to "YELLOW".
Now. Had this been my first week of school, I would have curled into a ball and declared the year over quicker than it began. But not Ry. The accident in the bathroom? No big deal. "All the kids were nappping, Mom, so I just had my friend tell my teacher and she brought me my clothes. No big deal." The teasing? " I just walked away and played with Chloe." No snack? Well, she was pretty pissed about that, and I can't say I blame her -- they eat lunch at 10:40, and don't get out of school until 2:30.
Of course, this morning she soo di dnot want to go to school, mostly because I woke up with her in my bed at 7:15, when we needed to leave the house at 7:30. So things were a little rushed, but Mama's on an organization craze, so it all went smoothly and after I promised her I'd have lunch with her today, she cheered right up.
Speaking of which, I've got to finish baking cookies for the office ladies before it's time to leave.
(#1 Rule I learned as a teacher: KISS the Office Ladies' Butts. They RUN the school.)
I'm off to pucker up!!
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Who Misses High School??
Never fear, just become a Mommy, wait 5 years, and when your child starts kindergarten it'll be like you are right back in HS, walking the halls awkwardly, trying to figure out where to go, trying to get someone to talk to you, trying to figure out the mass attack of information coming at you from left and right all the while attempting to keep your palms from sweating right off. What? Just me? Seriously, this should be a contact sport.
Don't get me wrong, everything has been bustling and busy and people have been welcoming, it's just that I am incredibly afraid of everyone, or to be more precise, I'm afraid of acting weird or saying something stupid in front of everyone. Apparently, being holed up for the majority of the past 4 years in my house with kids has left me a bit of an agoraphobe, not wanting to leave the house unless necessary because now everywhere I go, I recognize people I've seen at her school.
This is not good, seeing as how most of the time I'm sans makeup, a scary sight at any rate, but when you're trying to carve a nice little niche out for yourself and your kids at the elementary school, it's probably best not to scare the rest of the moms away with a glance. Not to mention, my small-talk skills are not the greatest, especially when they sneak up on you in the grocery store as you're fighting your toddler, desperately trying to grasp hold of the last shred of dignity you've got left.
Not to mention the FOLDERS. Good Lord! Yellow folder for info, Blue for homework, Green for Poetry, Red for behavior....all come home on different days, all go back on different days, all in an effort to push me one step closer to insanity. Poor Ryan. She'll be lucky if we make it to Christmas! She was a pro yesterday, insisting I drop her off in the front of the school and let her walk in alone. I wish I could bottle the joy and excitement emanating from every pore in her body as she walked along the sidewalk through the front doors. She's having a great time, has already found a "Bestest Friend", and has already gotten in trouble for talking too much. So at least she's right on track...
Jax and I have been having fun as well, thank you very much. Except for the 2nd attempt to keep him with me while watching Ry's gymnastics, he's been a lot better. He just can't sit still, especially when there's so much going on around him. Yesterday at gymnastics, he dumped over my coke, and threw another of his trademark fits as I cleaned it up and tried to gather him, our 5 bags, and extraneous toys in an effort to make a quiet, unnoticed exit. But then I tripped on the 18 month year old that another mom had sitting in the middle of the floor, and that plan was shot to hell. Apologizing as much as I could, I still could not escape the evil, irritated glares of the mommies around us. Perhaps from now on we'll just drop Ry off, hmm?
My favorite thing with Jax right now is the fact that every time we go in the backyard, he puts on his Cowboys helmet, a habit he originally started every time he went outside to play T-ball, but which has now expanded to anytime he's in the backyard. You haven't laughed until you've seen him toddling around in that huge helmet, teetering back and forth as he climbs over things, digs in the rocks, and goes down the slide head first. It's good for what ails me.
Monday, August 27, 2007
There goes my heart...
No tears were shed (yet), but my heart did break just a bit. I didn't have time to be sentimental, seeing as how they whisked her off before I could even snap a pic, but I guess they know what they are doing.Here's Ryan 2 minutes before the above photo -- while we were waiting in line to drop her off:
I can't count the number of times I gave my mom this look (and still do).
And of course, Jax had to get in the game:
Now if you'll excuse me, I would go curl into a ball on my bed, but seeing as how I just agreed to take in another dog, I'd better get the house ready. And figure out how to tell Shawn.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
The Art of War
I truly believe that every mom goes through difficult spurts with each of their kids. I believe that it is not just me, that I am not simply a bad mom.
As much as you read about the chaos that goes on here on the blog, there's ten times a much good, boring, run of the mill stuff that happens, too. So, no, I do not think I'm a bad mother.
But I have reached another cross roads with Jax and have come to the conclusion that I have got to step up the discipline now or he's a goner.
The tantrums have become, in a word: unbearable. My sweet, funny, larger-than-life little boy truly seems to have some kind of monster residing inside his chunky little body, and it's time to exorcise it.
Something has to work, because Amy the Emotionally Fragile cannot take much more --
especially in public.
As much as you read about the chaos that goes on here on the blog, there's ten times a much good, boring, run of the mill stuff that happens, too. So, no, I do not think I'm a bad mother.
But I have reached another cross roads with Jax and have come to the conclusion that I have got to step up the discipline now or he's a goner.
The tantrums have become, in a word: unbearable. My sweet, funny, larger-than-life little boy truly seems to have some kind of monster residing inside his chunky little body, and it's time to exorcise it.
Something has to work, because Amy the Emotionally Fragile cannot take much more --
especially in public.
I'm going to spare you the nasty details, but let's just say that there were 2 incidents, and one of them ended with me half topless, groping around the produce section of the grocery store looking for my glasses.
Let the stare-down begin.
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Perhaps I spoke too soon...
Aye. I've been just as anxiously awaiting the first of the school year as much if not more than Ryan. I'm sure a lot of moms get excited, but I doubt any of them do it with quite as much essence of nerd. (See?)
I've got schedules and charts and calenders, OH MY, and still, still I manage to screw up 2 monumental landmarks in my child's lives.
First, Jax has begun going poo on the potty. As happy as I am about this milestone, it's one I've been not-so-secretly dreading for a while now. I've mentioned the carpet, yes?
So there we were, straining and squeezing in order to get some little toothpaste squirt out of his butt (that just got way nastier than I'd intended. Sorry.), and then "Woohoo", applause, applause, applause, he crawls down to look into the potty and finishes his crap on my bathroom floor.
Why was I not prepared for this? IT WASN'T ON THE SCHEDULE. Sheesh.
I have it clearly marked that he starts potty training once Ryan starts Kindergarten. Not 6 days sooner.
And then.
Then.
Do you remember that weird sister that Shelly Long had in "Hello Again", that kind of lady like the record store owner Annie Potts played in Pretty in Pink? Weren't they great and weird and funky and endearing? Yeah, to the moms at Ry's new gymnastics, I'm that lady. But not nearly as endearing and nowhere in the vacinity of great..
We started at a new, slightly more prestigious gymnastics academy than the YMCA today (Can you hear me gagging? Can ya?), and Ryan totally rocked the crowd. Not that I'm proud or anything, but she totally charmed those teachers into thinking it was cute that she hadn't listened and needed them to repeat themselves over and over. (We'll have to work on that.) Still, she did great, especially on the bars. I don't know what it is about her -- some physical anomaly from Shawn's side of the family I'm sure that gives her crazy strength in her upper body, but the kid has it. Seriously, it's sick.
Great! Just point us where you want us. We herd ourselves into the tiny watching/waiting area, hearing teachers calling names while we try to figure out where sit. When I finally manage to get her shoes off, a line of little girls starts walking onto the mats. "I think that's your class," I say to her. "Go on out and ask the teacher if she called your name."
"Okay." She timidly goes off to talk to the teacher while I try to wrangle Jax when another gym lady stops her and asks her who she is and where's she supposed to be. Ryan turns and looks at me with such fear and utter shyness that I quickly jump to her aid, calling out to the instructor that she was supposed to go with Coach A, and that she was thinking maybe that was her on the floor. She was going to ask her if she'd called her name, I informed her.
"We haven't called names, yet," she said flatly, bending down to Ry and asking her name. She checks her list and - lo and behold - she is supposed to be out there on that mat with those kids, Smirking, I turn around to grab Jaxson, when I suddenly hear, "Whose little boy is that?" I look onto the gym floor and there's Jax up on the low beam, shit-grinnin' and jumping away.
I, naturally, start to laugh, but when I notice the looks on the other mom's faces, I decide that may not be the wisest option, and I run out to retrieve him. Not such a big deal. Until he starts fighting me, screaming, kicking and throwing a Classic Jax Attack. In the middle of the gym floor. With everyone watching.
(Later, Ryan told Shawn she was embarrassed about it. I rest my case.)
I breathe, put him in a choke-hold and carry him off the floor, to the sanctity of ...THE WAITING ROOM.
God, that place is a nightmare.
You know the "Perfect Moms" right away -- theye were there 10 minutes early, their kid has been here 2 years already (her radar clued into the place much sooner than mine, YMCA-loving freak that I am), she looks awesome in short brown hair, a REAL tan, no makeup, polo tee, j crew shorts and is happily bouncing her new baby on her knee. Did I mention she's already lost any baby weight she may (doubtful) have put on?
Then there are the "Ex-Cheerleader From A Small Town Moms", who I relate to only because they remind me of friends of mine who actually were small town High School cheerleaders, so I know they're not all that bad. But still...they sure have a lot of "pep". And they love to say things like "No WAY!" and "Good Deal!" and "SO AWESOME" a lot. It's just funny is all.
And then there are all the "Older Moms", who look like you imagine your mom might look now if she was your age: a little frumpy, but still attractive, just in kinda bad clothes. (No offense, mom.)
And then there was me. The mom who is always late, usually frantic, kid's hair is rarely brushed, with the funny-little-screaming-toddler-who's- really- not- that- funny- at- all- but- you- people- keep- laughing- at- him- so- he- thinks- he- is kid and the inability to control him whatsoever. Plus, I looked really weird yesterday, what with my "Green is Good" Tee, my silver ballet flats, and the turquoise necklace Ry put around my neck as we were getting out of the car. For good luck.
So we opt (are forced, whatever) to sit in the back corner away from everyone else, but that doesn't help, because right next to us is the other entrance onto the gym floor, which does nothing but tempt the devil a little bit further out of Jaxson.
This is new for me, kids. Normally, if this were church or something, we would all just suffer a little longer than necessary (as penance for what were were about to do) and then leave, but seeing as how Ry was in the middle of class, and I still wasn't clear on what the rules were in regards to leaving the premises, I was stuck. At her other gym class he was always in the nursery, and I could go work out if I wanted. I never HAD to sit through the whole thing and I never HAD to do it with Jax in tow. My days of running were over. I had to think quick.
I dug in my purse for change and was able to extract fifty cents, buying Jax a bag of cookies, and me some quiet time. Sure enough, 5 minutes later he finished the bag of cookies and had started banging on the plaxiglass-window, so I suggested we go look for toys in the car. We did. But all found was Ryan's stuffed pink poodle, FiFi, who had a metal-studded black leather belt tied around her neck like a leash. (I'll explain another time.)
Hey, if it makes the kid happy, I'm not about to argue.
(But boy, did he get a lot of compliments on that pretty pink dog of his.)
So anyway, we made it through the class, with a couple more escape attempts thrown in for fun, Ry did her thing and all ended well.
By Amy terms, anyway. I still managed to make an ass of myself on her first day at a new place, which may or may not hinder her ability to make friends with any of her class mates, but there's still kindergarten, which reminds me...Orientation is tonight, maybe I should just send Shawn solo??
I've got schedules and charts and calenders, OH MY, and still, still I manage to screw up 2 monumental landmarks in my child's lives.
First, Jax has begun going poo on the potty. As happy as I am about this milestone, it's one I've been not-so-secretly dreading for a while now. I've mentioned the carpet, yes?
So there we were, straining and squeezing in order to get some little toothpaste squirt out of his butt (that just got way nastier than I'd intended. Sorry.), and then "Woohoo", applause, applause, applause, he crawls down to look into the potty and finishes his crap on my bathroom floor.
Why was I not prepared for this? IT WASN'T ON THE SCHEDULE. Sheesh.
I have it clearly marked that he starts potty training once Ryan starts Kindergarten. Not 6 days sooner.
And then.
Then.
Do you remember that weird sister that Shelly Long had in "Hello Again", that kind of lady like the record store owner Annie Potts played in Pretty in Pink? Weren't they great and weird and funky and endearing? Yeah, to the moms at Ry's new gymnastics, I'm that lady. But not nearly as endearing and nowhere in the vacinity of great..
We started at a new, slightly more prestigious gymnastics academy than the YMCA today (Can you hear me gagging? Can ya?), and Ryan totally rocked the crowd. Not that I'm proud or anything, but she totally charmed those teachers into thinking it was cute that she hadn't listened and needed them to repeat themselves over and over. (We'll have to work on that.) Still, she did great, especially on the bars. I don't know what it is about her -- some physical anomaly from Shawn's side of the family I'm sure that gives her crazy strength in her upper body, but the kid has it. Seriously, it's sick.
I'd been anxious about making a good impression at this place, knowing that Ry may want to continue there for a while and all. Naturally, I failed miserably.
Great! Just point us where you want us. We herd ourselves into the tiny watching/waiting area, hearing teachers calling names while we try to figure out where sit. When I finally manage to get her shoes off, a line of little girls starts walking onto the mats. "I think that's your class," I say to her. "Go on out and ask the teacher if she called your name."
"Okay." She timidly goes off to talk to the teacher while I try to wrangle Jax when another gym lady stops her and asks her who she is and where's she supposed to be. Ryan turns and looks at me with such fear and utter shyness that I quickly jump to her aid, calling out to the instructor that she was supposed to go with Coach A, and that she was thinking maybe that was her on the floor. She was going to ask her if she'd called her name, I informed her.
"We haven't called names, yet," she said flatly, bending down to Ry and asking her name. She checks her list and - lo and behold - she is supposed to be out there on that mat with those kids, Smirking, I turn around to grab Jaxson, when I suddenly hear, "Whose little boy is that?" I look onto the gym floor and there's Jax up on the low beam, shit-grinnin' and jumping away.
I, naturally, start to laugh, but when I notice the looks on the other mom's faces, I decide that may not be the wisest option, and I run out to retrieve him. Not such a big deal. Until he starts fighting me, screaming, kicking and throwing a Classic Jax Attack. In the middle of the gym floor. With everyone watching.
(Later, Ryan told Shawn she was embarrassed about it. I rest my case.)
I breathe, put him in a choke-hold and carry him off the floor, to the sanctity of ...THE WAITING ROOM.
God, that place is a nightmare.
You know the "Perfect Moms" right away -- theye were there 10 minutes early, their kid has been here 2 years already (her radar clued into the place much sooner than mine, YMCA-loving freak that I am), she looks awesome in short brown hair, a REAL tan, no makeup, polo tee, j crew shorts and is happily bouncing her new baby on her knee. Did I mention she's already lost any baby weight she may (doubtful) have put on?
Then there are the "Ex-Cheerleader From A Small Town Moms", who I relate to only because they remind me of friends of mine who actually were small town High School cheerleaders, so I know they're not all that bad. But still...they sure have a lot of "pep". And they love to say things like "No WAY!" and "Good Deal!" and "SO AWESOME" a lot. It's just funny is all.
And then there are all the "Older Moms", who look like you imagine your mom might look now if she was your age: a little frumpy, but still attractive, just in kinda bad clothes. (No offense, mom.)
And then there was me. The mom who is always late, usually frantic, kid's hair is rarely brushed, with the funny-little-screaming-toddler-who's- really- not- that- funny- at- all- but- you- people- keep- laughing- at- him- so- he- thinks- he- is kid and the inability to control him whatsoever. Plus, I looked really weird yesterday, what with my "Green is Good" Tee, my silver ballet flats, and the turquoise necklace Ry put around my neck as we were getting out of the car. For good luck.
So we opt (are forced, whatever) to sit in the back corner away from everyone else, but that doesn't help, because right next to us is the other entrance onto the gym floor, which does nothing but tempt the devil a little bit further out of Jaxson.
This is new for me, kids. Normally, if this were church or something, we would all just suffer a little longer than necessary (as penance for what were were about to do) and then leave, but seeing as how Ry was in the middle of class, and I still wasn't clear on what the rules were in regards to leaving the premises, I was stuck. At her other gym class he was always in the nursery, and I could go work out if I wanted. I never HAD to sit through the whole thing and I never HAD to do it with Jax in tow. My days of running were over. I had to think quick.
I dug in my purse for change and was able to extract fifty cents, buying Jax a bag of cookies, and me some quiet time. Sure enough, 5 minutes later he finished the bag of cookies and had started banging on the plaxiglass-window, so I suggested we go look for toys in the car. We did. But all found was Ryan's stuffed pink poodle, FiFi, who had a metal-studded black leather belt tied around her neck like a leash. (I'll explain another time.)
Hey, if it makes the kid happy, I'm not about to argue.
(But boy, did he get a lot of compliments on that pretty pink dog of his.)
So anyway, we made it through the class, with a couple more escape attempts thrown in for fun, Ry did her thing and all ended well.
By Amy terms, anyway. I still managed to make an ass of myself on her first day at a new place, which may or may not hinder her ability to make friends with any of her class mates, but there's still kindergarten, which reminds me...Orientation is tonight, maybe I should just send Shawn solo??
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