Transitions.

I was enjoying a wonderful breakfast this morning with my best friend, and in the course of conversation I noticed how many things have one meaning when we are young, and totally another when we get older. A few examples:

Minipads: Great in your 20's for when you see that hot, sexy guy you'd like to see in the morning. Great in your 40's for when you sneeze and cough....

Coffee: Great in your 20's for when you are trying to get through for that final exam in the morning. Great in your 40's so you can have a reason to get out of bed.

Cell phones: Great in your 20's (and yes, I had one of those big, bulky Motorola phones thanks to my dad) to show off to your friends and look cool while you do it. Great in your 40's so you can conveniently keep your MD on speed dial as body parts start breaking down.

I'm sure there are other items that morph their uses as we get older...but as I eye one of those shopping carts with the motor, I just can't think of any more right now. I'm too busy using my cell phone as a reminder pad because my memory is horrible at my age...

There's food for thought....

Missing again.

This morning, over breakfast, my dear best friend reminded me that I did not keep my promise to blog at least once a month. I have no excuses. I just somehow lost October. Don't know where, when or how it went. I remember Halloween, and the big trick or treat drama there is whenever you have a child with severe food allergies, but I think I forgot about the whole month.

Oh well, que sera sera. (Really dating myself there...) I am actually looking forward to getting into my holiday baking schedule, and I know all my friends are looking forward to all my baking too! I've already started buying all the fun goodies to make all the fudge, cakes and cookies. It seems weird, but I find such joy in baking and it is a great stress reliever. Nothing like beating the shit out of something to get a sweet result!

Keep you all up to date on how it goes...misadvantures in baking is the funnest part of the process!

The Queen has arrived!

I have a little visitor at my house right now. She is very demanding of my time, actually telling me to do other things rather than the things I need to do. You see, we just closed on our new house this past Friday, and I am supposed to get the house packed and moved, all on my own, over the next three weeks. The Queen insists that I see to her needs, and she is a lazy one. So I am torn between her needs and my own. So far, I am three days behind on laundry, two days on dishes, and I haven't washed my own hair for a couple of days.

Like most visitors, I wish she would leave shortly after she arrives. She makes it difficult to cook meals, spend time with my friends and family, and generally makes a "royal pain" of herself. I guess it is all up to me to kick her to the curb and get on with my life, but I just don't have the heart. It's not in my nature. Damn it though, she needs to go!

Out, out to the Queen of Procrastination! Go back to your own kingdom....

(Gotcha!)

I really am trying to get the move done.....

Promises kept.

Back when I started this blog, I promised myself that I would remember to blog at least once a month. I never thought it would be a difficult promise, but it turns out it is. I'm beginning to feel a bit flaky, not like a biscuit, but like the kind of person that makes promises that forgets to follow through on. I've spent all my life trying to meet other's expectations of me, whether it was my mother who demanded straight A's to my husband's idea of the perfect wife. Most of my friends understand when I have difficulty following through on something (yes, Misty, I haven't forgotten those gift cards!) because they are also going through something similar in one way or another.

Most of my problems stem from an innate ability to take on more than I can handle. My guess is I just don't know how to say no. Trust me, I've practiced this on more than one occasion. Each time I try, I fail miserably. Some would call this a major character flaw. I call it selective ignorance. When I commit to something, I conveniently "forget" everything else that I have commitments to and go do whatever it is I am being asked to do. The only problem with this system is it leaves me in a position of constantly playing catch-up with the other items. At the present time it would take me about three months to catch-up with everything I have on my plate.

My life is starting to look like I need something like a "system restore", where I can just hit a restart button and all my unfinished work will vanish. Sounds like a winner to me. Now if I can just find the damn button.....

At least I posted in August!

Post-Vacation Psychosis.

This weekend we returned from a week-long family vacation. In the car. With our 6 year old. With no DVD player to quiet him on the long trip. Needless to say, I'm stressed. If any of my friends asks what it is like to drive 1000 miles with a young child in the car, I'd say pack sleeping pills. Not for the little one, but for you. Here's how our vacation went.

Day 1: We left for the big push to get to our destination in Oklahoma. We wanted to get there before dark, so we drove three hour stretches before taking a break. Since it was early in our vacation, we all had the energy for the long stretches of road. Not 80 miles out of Austin came the "Are we there yet" for the next 100 miles. Then came, "Are we still in Texas?". By then I was ready to stop at the first Walmart and buy that damned DVD player. We arrived at our destination right before sunset, and checked into our hotel.

Day 2: After a painful night of having little 6 year old feet poke me every 30 minutes into wakefulness, I approached our second day of vacation a little more weary. Our original plan of visiting a submarine memorial was delayed since my dear husband forgot to tell me that the museum was only open Wednesday through Saturday. So our schedule had to shift a little. We spent the whole day at the lake enjoying the waves and sun.

Day 3: Submarine museum time!!! Actually just for the guys; I'm horribly claustrophobic and the idea of stuffing myself into a big metal tube is just not my idea of fun. I collected pinecones instead and sat in the shade of some huge trees. Not a bad way to spend a few hours of my day.

Day 4: Back to the road...our stops were more frequent since none of us had the endurance to stay in the car for more than a few minutes. For some reason we stopped at every gas station and pigged out on junk food. Maybe it was just our way of dealing with stress. We arrived back in Dallas and spent some time with my sister, who just happened to be there on that day.

Day 5: Back at home, finally. That is if you call an early-morning arrival an extra day of vacation. I'm so short on sleep since the little one had to sleep with me, that I asked Daddy to give me a little extra time to sleep. It is hard to sleep with the sounds of Spongebob coming through the wall.

I thought I caught up on some lost sleep...right. That theory blew sky high today when I met my best friend and her son at McD's for lunch. The phrase I wanted to say all week finally popped out of my otherwise motherly mouth aimed straight for my 6 year old..."Shut your mouth, now!" I spent the rest of my Sunday trying to undo the awful thing I said. I did realize one thing, though.

We are all human. One more for the "yes, I really lost it." column.

Perspective

Sometimes I feel as if the world is challenging me to retain my sanity. I've been "under the weather" for a few days now, and with that comes the feeling that the world is in black and white. Not in a depressed kind of way, but a "I'm sick and I don't want to care about anyone else" kind of way. Even the sounds around me feel muted. (Yes, even with a child screaming in my ear!)

So I went back and read my past postings. I had forgotten the one about "Men are like.." and re-read it. Poof, there were the colors again. At least for a little while I can forget about how miserable I feel and just have a good laugh at a man's expense. I think most of my problems start with men...

MENstruation
MENopause
preMENstrual syndrome
abandonMENt (can't get him to go get milk for nothing!)
ailMENts
arguMENts
deMENtia

Well, you get my idea....I know there's some I'm missing. I'll enjoy the colors while they last.

Happy Father's Day, Daddy!

Today is the 14th Father's Day without you. Everyone keeps telling me it gets easier, but once again I am alone with my memories instead of celebrating it with you. The family is celebrating once again with my father-in-law, but I just can't bring myself to go. I want to be with you instead. Luckily everyone understands (well almost) and I don't feel guilty for not going; I sent a gift and card to my "other Dad". But he is never going to be you. I wonder if my heart is ever going to heal. I miss you so much Daddy, and so does the rest of the family. I'm so jealous of my husband and that he gets to spend the day with his beloved Dad. I still feel so young to be without you.

All in all, I'm still surviving. I have your namesake to look at and see your smile. I'm so happy he was sent to me, but what a surprise. The angels look after us, and Charlie tells me that his Grandpa says he loves us both. I can't believe he has never met you, and yet he can pick you out of a picture anywhere.

I miss you, and I remember you today and always.

Love,
Daddy's little girl.

Missing in action

I was out at lunch with my dearest best friend today and she mentioned I had been missed on my blog. Understandably she noted how busy I have been as I vowed to not let the posts go unposted past today. In 8 days, I hit 44 years old. It seems as if I get close to my birthday at the same time I become the queen of over-scheduling. Since March I have managed to get myself elected as VP of my son's school PTA, been working my tail off as a substitute teacher, and had tax season for my company all at the same time. There was also the Kindergarten graduation, my 7th wedding anniversary, eight PTA meetings, nine trips to the dealer with brake problems, and a freakin' partridge in a pear tree.

Now it's summer vacation, and I need to be full-time Mommy again. I'm hoping I find the ability to slow down from the mania that has been the past couple of months. Time to stop and smell the roses...

Friendship

For all my friends...

A friend is someone we turn to,
When our spirits need a lift.
A friend is someone we treasure,
For true friendship is a gift.

A friend is someone we laugh with,
Over little personal things.
A friend is someone we're serious with,
In facing whatever life brings.

A friend is someone who fills our lives,
With beauty and joy and grace.
And makes the world that we live in
A better and happier place!

Teaching 101

The funny thing about being a substitute teacher in Texas is that you don't really need any qualifications beyond a high school diploma to be successful. Your chosen school district sits you down for an orientation and then puts you in a classroom without another thought. You basically are meant to be a babysitter for a group of children and attempt to follow the teacher's lesson plan, even if had been 20 years since your last science class.

I have been a substitute teacher for a few months now, and today was the first time I was actually afraid of starting my day in the classroom. You see, today I was the teacher for my son's Kindergarten class. I've been the homeroom parent all year, and I'm very familiar to all the kids in the class. The kids know me for my cupcakes for each child's birthday. They know me at every field trip and special event. Today they got to know me as their teacher. I don't think they were at all happy about it.

The morning started off okay, but as the morning wore on, I began to notice the more rambunctious side of the children coming out. So I began to stress the importance of keeping to our learning and not to be talking to our classmates. As I began to use more control over the class, the kids began to realize that I was not going to be the "fun mom" they have all come to know. Even my own son was calling me "Mrs. White" all day.

The day was successful and everyone had fun, although a few of the kids came up to me before the end of my day and said they like me, but they want me to stay the "cupcake mom" more.

My little one wouldn't let me kiss him until we were at home because he didn't want to kiss the teacher at school.

Good boy. Remember that one for next time.

What a day!

For the giggles...

MEN ARE LIKE...

Men are like ... newborn babies

They're cute at first, but you get tired of picking up their crap.

Men are like ... coffee

The best ones are rich, hot, and can keep you up all night.

Men are like ... computers.

Hard to figure out and never enough memory.

Men are like ... coolers.

Load them with beer and you can take them anywhere.

Men are like ... chocolate bars.

Sweet, smooth and they usually head right for your hips.

Men are like ... power tools

They make a lot of noise, but it's hard to get them to work.

Men are like ... remote controls

Simple. Easy to use. And usually lying around a TV.

Men are like ... shag carpets.

Soft, fuzzy and extremely easy to walk on.

Men are like ... vacuum cleaners

They're not much fun, but at least you get to push them around.

Men are like ... road kill

They usually just lie around until they start to smell.

Men are like ... soap operas

They're fun to watch, but don't believe everything you hear.

Men are like ... pillows

Eventually, even the best ones get soft and lumpy.

Men are like ... old car tires

Balding, full of hot air, and it never hurts to have a spare.

Men are like ... plastic wrap

Cheap. Clingy. and very easy to see through.

Men are like ... department stores

Their clothes should always be half off.

Men are like ... horoscopes.

They always tell you what to do and are usually wrong.

Men are like ... plungers.

They spend most of their lives in a hardware store or the bathroom.

...and yet we still love them!

Long absences.

When I started as a substitute teacher in January, I dreamed about the extra cash, and the revitalization of a career that had been DOA for six years. I gleefully looked forward to every day in the classroom, since it meant I would not be stuck at home alone while my only child is in school.

Six weeks after the fact, I've come to realize that others expectations have not changed since I resumed working.

Old friends still call for "happy hour" after work, thinking as long as it is at a kid-friendly place I have all the time & energy in the world to attend. They don't seem to understand that I just spent all day on my feet with elementary schoolchildren, and the last thing I want is to be social. I want to try to reconnect with MYSELF first, my family second, and then I become the social creature everyone loves. I love my family, friends & the kiddos in the classroom, but I need a little recovery time where I reclaim myself after giving so much to others.

The other expectation is what I have heard working women everywhere saying but I never thought it would apply to me. My mother-in-law asked how am I keeping up with housework now that I'm working. Personally I wanted to tell her to jump off a cliff, but in the interest of keeping the peace I said, "I manage." Honestly, the housework has gone to shit. Dishes get washed when I have time to load the machine, and a small third-world country could eat for a week off the crumbs on the floors. Laundry is piling up and I can't find the balance to get it all done.

I have a good husband, but like most men I've known he is oblivious to the mess until he needs to explain it to a visitor. He tries, bless his heart, but the small contributions he makes just aren't enough to keep ahead of the clutter. His idea of unloading the dishwasher is to put all the clean dishes on the kitchen counter.

So I am finding out that after six years as a stay-at-home mom, housewife, chauffeur and maid...I still have those jobs and put elementary school teacher on top of it all. No wonder working moms need to be excellent organizers. Or else they have to have a raging case of denial about it all.

I choose denial for now.

Mama's hands

I took a really good hard look at my hands today. Not to admire a great manicure, or my rings, but to be surprised that I have my mom's hands. Not size-wise mind you, she was 5'5'' and I'm 6' even, but the age showing on the backs of my hands. The hands now have age spots & lines...the skin looks like the backside of an old elephant. All these years I've taken care of my face and been pretty blessed with a lack of serious wrinkles and lines, only to find out EVERY wrinkle and line is on the backs of my hands! I was wondering where the face lines would go.

I never had a problem aging, as a matter of fact I had wondered when getting older would bother me. Now it is a few months before number 44, and it finally hits me. I'm approaching my next birthday like most men handle their mid-life crisis. (Ok, no affair...I only have the stomach for ONE man at a time!) I've bought all new makeup, younger looking clothes, I'd go for the convertible if I hadn't just recently got a new car. Mind you, I've never been a fashionista, for the past 5 years I've lived in sweat pants and t-shirts.

All this time I thought I was aging with grace...instead I'm aging into my mother. I'm going to hit the face cream and put it on my hands. That, and a good drink for my soul.

Sick day.

I made the awful mistake of eating something I shouldn't...and paid the price yesterday. I spent the day sick in bed with all the horrible side effects of food poisoning. I had to force myself up long enough to pick up my son from school and wait for the husband to come home. My butt prints are still on the couch.

Once my husband arrived I immediately went back to bed. Within 30 seconds of my head hitting the pillow, in came my son. He informed me that he was my doctor and he was going to take care of me. He ran off, I presumed to get his doctor's kit, but he came back carrying his tool box. I asked him if he was going to use those on Mommy and he grinned from ear to ear. He grabbed the little plastic saw and began "cutting" on my leg. Actually it tickled like hell, but I was too sick to complain. My little doctor told me he would cut off my head and I would feel better. I fell asleep out of exhaustion while my little doctor kept working on me with his play tools.

I woke up this morning feeling much better. Hurray for the little doctor with the tool box!

I am still trying to find my head though.

Crazy drivers...aren't we all?

WARNING...the following is a rant of the highest caliber!

Ugh. I hate taking my son to school. Okay, I hate taking my son to school in a CAR. The parking lot at his school is the most dangerous place I have ever seen. This morning I decided to park in the front parking lot instead of the teacher's parking lot where I usually park. Because I have been ill lately, I really needed to have my obligatory walking-my-child-to-his-classroom time as short as possible. He's in kindergarten, so dumping him off at the curb is not an option until he is in second grade, at least.

Pulling into the parking lot, I see the normal line of traffic waiting their turn to drop their kids off at the curb. I pull to the left to go to the parking areas just as three cars couldn't wait any longer and pulled out from that line. The only problem was I was occupying the space they wanted to occupy. After horns honked and fingers pointed, I continued on to find a parking spot. I found an empty spot just as another car's doors flung open and five kids jumped out of the car right in front of me as I was already entering the parking space. I sighed, remembering why I know what I'm doing is a bad idea, I should have parked in the teacher's parking area. After that car pulled out, another truck pulled in next to me, parking his front bumper so close I could not get out of my car. Damn, I was really losing my patience now. I rolled down my window and asked, no yelled at the idiot to back up and let me out of my car. I get another finger pointed at me. I still have my son in the back seat, so I let it go and wait. Except the fool in his truck refuses to move. I rearrange things in my car so I can crawl out the passenger side and take my child to class. I walked around to the front of my car when the jerk pulls out of his spot laughing and giving me the finger again. Yes, I caved and flipped him off right back and it wasn't as satisfying as I thought.

After dropping my son off at his classroom and getting back to my car, I was literally shaking when I got back to my car. Still, after the first bell rings, cars are still speeding around the parking lot so I decide to wait to move my car. I decided the way was clear enough to try to pull out and head home. I started backing up and I will be damned if every car kept speeding by, even when I thought I had the clear someone would fill the space. Finally I managed to extricate my car from the school parking lot and head home.

Whatever happened to driving carefully in a school zone? Why must adults speed through a school parking lot like it is the Indy 500? Whatever happened to good old-fashioned manners and looking out for each other? In this kiss-my-a** society we have developed, we've lost something along the way. I think we lost ourselves and our civility. What a sad day for us all.

I won't hold a grudge about anything this mornng. As a matter of fact, I'm going to do the opposite...make my negative experience into a positive one. I'll do something nice for someone today. I challenge you all to do the same.

'Nuff said.

New Kia Sedona?

Back in August 2008 I needed to go buy a new car after being in a rather serious collision and having my other car totalled by the insurance company. After much deciding what features I needed the most, I found a Kia Sedona, nearly new, for a great deal. I have been really happy with the performance of the new car until the past few weeks. It seems that Kia only intends their braking system to last about 14,000 miles. No, I am not kidding, I just had my brakes and rotors replaced at just 14,000 miles! The pads were well worn and the rotors were badly warped. Now, before you say I ride the brakes too much, I tend the exact opposite. I hate braking. Okay, now get off the floor from all the laughing, but I really do hate it. I tend to be that jerk in front of you who decides that coasting to the red light ahead is better than screaming up to said red light and then slamming on the brakes. It also keeps the guy in front of me from getting pissed off by my rapid arrival.

Anyway, while at the dealership, I decided that I needed to lighten up a little since my days have been kind of intense. So after flirting with my service advisor at the dealership (it's okay, he was about 400 lbs on a good day, not my type!) I settled into the waiting room and watched a rather harried mom with 2 kids ages 3 & 4 try to get them to settle down. Being a harried mom myself at times, I grabbed my son's toy basket out of my car just as they were about to take my car for a test drive and brought it back in the lounge. The mom's face said it all; sometimes we all need someone to just give us a little break! As her kids played with my son's toy cast-offs, we struck up a good conversation about our cars. Turns out we both have the exact same model with the exact same problem! I don't think the service advisor liked that we were comparing notes!

I started talking about my other problem with the car. It turns out there is a naughty little guy that lives under the passenger side seat. This guys only job is to find out how much the person weighs in that seat and then decide if that person qualifies for airbag protection or not. I found out that I can make his day a living hell if I throw my heavy bag on the seat. The airbag system goes wonky and refuses to operate at all unless I get my damn bag off the seat! What I want to know is will this little guy one day decides to ask me when I sit in the passenger seat "What the hell happened to your diet?"

I figure I just won't ride in the passenger seat. At least not until I lose another 100 pounds. I'll show that little tattletail under the seat. I'll cover his butt in McDonald's wrappers.

'Nuff said.

A sad day.

I received an email from one of my friends in my "allergic kids" group. I usually open those emails with glee, knowing that the person writing is one of the few people who really understand what raising a child with severe food allergies is like. Never mind the constant "it's all in your head" approach, or the "let your damn kids get dirty and develop an immune system" approach. The group of women and men I correspond with online have all developed close friendships based on the one thing: raising our children in a world where even the smallest morsel of the wrong food could make our child very ill, or worse.

I sat staring at the computer screen for at least a half hour. The "or worse" scenario was playing out right in front of my eyes. My friend sent me an email that her eight year old son with a severe nut allergy had come in skin contact with peanut oil, stopped breathing, went into a coma, and died right before Thanksgiving. My heart ached as I watched my own son playing on the floor.

Moments like these make me wonder why I chose to enroll my child in a public school. No matter how hard I try to protect him, short of placing him into a bubble I can not. It is not society's problem that my child has food allergies, the burden is mine to carry. My son is has severe food allergies to peanuts, tree nuts, soy, citrus, pineapple, onion, nightshades (eggplant), and to a lesser degree, milk, cinnamon and egg. I face constant battles to find "safe" foods that he can tolerate.

The thought that a small amount of peanut oil on his skin could kill my son makes my blood run cold. The blood test that my son has every year placed him at a "level VI" for peanut. Just a small amount could cause his airway to swell and fluid to fill his lungs in seconds. Yes, I can be a paraniod parent when my child is in public. I believe I am as cautious as I can be and still allow him to have as normal of a life as possible.

I can only hope that the ones that think food allergies are trivial will find this blog and say a prayer for the little boy who died because he touched peanut oil.

'Nuff said.

The start of my journey.

I decided I need to blog to vent out my frustrations. Whether it is raising my son, dealing with my in-laws, or just life in general....I figure that putting it all out for the world to see is better than keeping it all inside. I'm discovering that repressed anger can make you sicker than the most virulent of viruses, so here goes my best attempt.

I don't plan to be a regular blogger...what you see is what you get, or like my son's kindergarten class chants, "You get what you get and you don't throw a fit!"

A life lesson from a bunch of 5 year olds.

'Nuff said.