Those Summer Moments

Spending seven hours stranded in my house while waiting for the air conditioner repairman AND scraping something sticky off the wall using my Pampered Chef stone bar pan scraper to avoid paint damage AND spilling Hawaiian Punch all over the counter AND accidentally painting a spot on my wall the wrong color AND going outside to hide from my children so that I could please, for the love of all that is sacred, try to read for two minutes, was not exactly how I imagined that my first official day of summer break would go.
But as someone smart and intuitive once said, I think a Beatle?, life is what happens when you are busy making other plans.
Every time I make grand statements like, "This is going to be the best summer EVAHHHH," I am surely setting myself up. That may be the exact moment that someone starts vomiting.
That is when I must remind myself that there are no perfect summers, and there are no totally perfect days, but there ARE perfect moments. And some days have LOTS of perfect moments.
Take today for instance. Watching my oldest sit on the floor of the bookstore with my youngest and helping him find a book he liked- perfect moment. Listening to my youngest sing Bruno Mars in the backseat with the most earnest expression , "I hope he buys you flowers..." Another perfect moment.
My oldest wanting me to sit with him after a day of fun and watch a Braves game he recorded- awesome.
My youngest trying to shoot ground beef out of his nose at Lime, the Mexican restaurant where we had lunch. Ummm, no.
So no, the summer will not be perfect. A whole day will not even be completely perfect.
And for those days when there are hardly ANY perfect moments, there ARE fruity summer umbrella drinks.
But here's to hoping we all have a summer of many, many perfect MOMENTS:)

Popping Tags

The other day I popped some tags.

Not Macklemore's kind, but rather the bathing suit kind.

I don't mean I bought a bunch of bathing suits. I mean, I literally, popped tags.

I tried on a size 6, and apparently the force was too great and the tags shot off across the dressing room like a cannon- almost shooting into the next stall.

They didn't fall off- they fired off.

Remember those optical illusions where you stare at all the lines and your eyes play tricks on you. Well, why in the heck can't they make an optical illusion suit? And after seriously Googling it, I am clearly not the only one who has thought of it. People are trying this. We need a suit with lines going everywhere and if you look at it, it either creates the illusion of a tiny person or even perhaps just makes your eyes blur so much that you can't see anything.

I kind of want to do the Medusa route. I need to know that if people look at my suit they turn to stone. That way I don't have to spend my entire Birmingham summer in a suffocating coverup.

They've already tried the miracle suit. FAIL!!! It's like those little rubber monster toys you squeeze and the eyeballs pop out. The bathing suit squeezes you so tight that suddenly- whoops!!! Well...there you go. It's all got to be re-routed somewhere. Didn't even know I had armpit fat.

At one point I decided I would just wear a loose, airy dress, a floppy hat, and shades. If anyone wants me to swim I can just pretend I'm channeling Garbo and beg to be left alone. I also figure if people are drowning, I can still save them in a T-shirt and a tennis skirt as well as I could a bikini.

At one point in the dressing room I just sat down pouting like a 5-year-old.

But all good pity parties must come to an end. I finally bucked up and found a suit I could tolerate. Because there is no suit that evokes a stronger emotion than that. When I found this tolerable suit, I bought it in two different colors. Because, you see, it may not happen again until the next solar eclipse.

So when you are out popping tags like I was, it will make it more fun if you
sing a little Thrift Shop.

But one lyric I will leave out?

"This is...awesome."

Summa...Summa...Summa...tiiiime.

Summer.

Summer always brings so many emotions for me. I am always excited for the lazy days and unplanned bursts of fun.

"Sure, we would love to come over and grill out and let the kids swim. Plans? No!!! Give us an hour and we will be there."

Trips to the lake. Trips to the beach. Days at the pool. All of us pilled up on the floor after a day of swimming, a slight chill to our skin from the sun as we cover ourselves with blankets and watch a movie- me usually drifting off to sleep as someone's hands are tangled in my chlorine-dampened hair. BLTs. Corn on the cob. Eating ice cream outside. Family bike rides. Gatherings with friends. Reading in the sun.

These are the parts of summer that I love.

But there are other parts. Boy, are there other parts. The screams from another room while I try to do laundry. Accusations of broken Legos, screaming, a noise, a retaliation noise, louder screaming. The result of too much togetherness and of shared space. Day after day. Sun up to sundown.

Remembering that these not-so-great moments are also a part of the summer almost makes me break in a cold sweat and want to look up that Pinterest pineapple martini recipe from a few weeks back.

There is something to be said for lack of schedule, but schedules do have their perks. Expectations are met. There is no, "I'm huuuuuuungry (whoops, is it already two o'clock?) whined through the foggy glass as I try to take my first shower in two days (doesn't chlorine count?)
And if I thought getting everyone to the bus on time was a feat, it pales in comparison to the "getting everyone out the door and to the pool with all the paraphernalia, SPF ready, without me screaming or someone having a meltdown of some sort."

And there isn't a whole lot of relaxing at the pool if you are outnumbered by your children. However, there are some pool rules that would help for sure. First of all there needs to be two pools. One for people who want to engage in water gun fire. Another pool for those who want to float on a raft and/or play with Barbies. There also needs to be a division in the pool of water gun fire for those who will cry when they are squirted in the face, even though they have been engaging in a full frontal attack of everyone in striking distance, and those who will not. In other words, what I'm trying to say here is simply this...there ain't a whole lot of relaxing for Mama at the pool.

I know the men picture us in our bathing suits and sunglasses and floppy hats slathering sunscreen on our kids while we eat grapes and talk about our next Bunco meeting.

But nobody's got time for that.

As summer approaches and I'm filled with both excitement and apprehension, I realize that somewhere in the midst of all of this end- of-the -year May craziness, I need a plan.

Not a laid out schedule or anything like that. After all, summer is summer! But maybe a summer- ish plan. A backup plan for when the Lego building hits the hardwood. A plan so that maybe I can go to the grocery store by myself once in a while. (Just step over me if you see me reading a People by the frozen food.) A plan for when we have all been a bit too "together." A plan for when someone takes issue with another simply looking at him. I need a backup plan for those times. What I really need is a Mary Poppins in my back pocket. But for now, I must develop a system. A summer generator for when the summer fun electricity goes out.

Everyone goes to his own room
and reads? A hidden movie they don't know about? A car ride to Sonic for a milk shake where everyone is strapped in and can't touch each other and the only way you get a ticket for the milkshake is if you don't speak the whole way there??? Who knows.

I am simply going to get hard at work developing a plan so that there are more "piled up on the floor watching a movie after a day of swimming" moments than there are "HE WON'T STOP COPYING MEEEEEEEE!" moments.

Please, other moms, or even people who are not moms but who happen to have brilliant ideas about this, share in the comments or on my Facebook page.

Moms need help!

Meanwhile, I will be working on my summer plan.

T minus 16 days and counting.

Or maybe I should just read outside in a floppy hat. It may be my only chance.

**********
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Don't Blink...indeed.

Today I walked the halls of my local high school. I was there to help a friend with something, and when my job was complete, my mother, who is here visiting, and I roamed the halls looking at the new, fascinating technology that we never had in school and the seemingly college-like gym. But as I roamed the halls, something much deeper and unexpected was taking place. As I looked at the kids, I saw the faces of those I graduated with in a small town in Kentucky in 1990. I noticed the ones who are probably cheerleaders. I noticed the jocks. I also noticed the ones who are probably less popular, and I wish I could have pulled them aside and told them not to worry, that popularity means nothing once you graduate and down the road you will realize it didn't really matter in high school either. Bill Gates wasn't popular.. enough said.
But while roaming around the high school, I have never been more aware that I am a 40-ish-year-old grown woman with two boys who are growing so fast that it literally made my heart ache. I could see my sons' faces on the faces of these giant high school boys. And they were seriously giants. There were moments I couldn't tell which were students and which might be young teachers.
Aren't the moms of these big students just sobbing thinking about how just yesterday these giants were throwing tantrums in their strollers at Target? Do they realize that soon these kids will be away at college and there will be nights they have no idea what their children are doing or even where they are?!?! Do they worry that they will move far away and that their arms will ache to hold that child for just a moment? I don't know exactly what happened to me in those halls today, but it was significant. The feeling stayed with me throughout the day.
Have you ever looked at your child and for just a moment you think you know what he or she will look like as a high school senior and it's beautiful and gut-wrenching all at the same time?
Not long after being at the high school, I watched my 3rd-grader participate in a fundraiser at his school. When I heard their precious voices sing the National Anthem, tears came to my eyes yet again.
That time...the time from when they are running laps in elementary school to when they are those giants roaming the wide halls of high school...how fast do they go? There isn't one parent who won't say it's in the blink of an eye. Of course it is. Because it seems like now is just a blink from when the doctor first handed them to me.
After today, I think if I were mysteriously summoned by the White House to write a super important document to promote world peace, I would toss it aside if my child wanted to eat ice cream and just talk.
Today was big. Today was REAL.
Some days life is just too raw. But if those days serve as a wake up call, forcing us to focus on all the things we should be focused on, then we should surely welcome them and absorb them whenever they may come. And be very thankful for them.

Disillusionment? Find a spark.

Disillusionment.

To me, this is one of the hardest parts of being a grown up. This horrible week has been full of disillusionment. Our souls are crushed with questions like: What is this world coming to? Has the whole world gone mad? How could people be so evil? Why is everyone so angry?

The questions are endless.

There are also smaller scales of disillusionment which add up and take their toll over time. And the results can be significant.

So many questions and realizations can weigh on us. Many of us can find ourselves asking things like: How could a place of worship be filled with so much politics? How could that seemingly sweet mom have done something so cruel to another mother out of spite? Why are friends turning on each other because of political differences? How can that friendship that I once cherished now have become so one-sided and distant? Why are other mothers crucifying each other rather than sticking together?

On and on the weight gets heavier. Sometimes it makes us want to isolate and avoid. But this is one case where our natural instincts are wrong. Following our instincts is the worst thing we can do. Though we may not feel like it, this is the time when we need most to connect with people, no matter how small that connection might be. This is the time when those small acts of kindness mean even more. A smile to a stranger, a shared laugh, a phone call, an invitation to lunch, paying for someone's coffee in the Starbuck's line. These are the times when these small acts become big acts.They can become the sparks that ignite something bigger. Kindness begets kindness, which can become an epidemic. A kindness epidemic would be pretty awesome. Right now things seem pretty dark, but a lot of little sparks make a bright light.

This may seem ridiculous and insignificant, but I still reflect on an incident many years ago at a gas station. There was a man, much older than I, who was clearly taking a break from a tough blue collar job that required getting dirty. He was pumping gas and I pulled up to the gas station, dressed for a full day of reporting, my radio blasting. The song was Lady Marmalade. And people, I had it playing LOUD. My window was down, and I have no earthly idea why I did this, other than the fact that I tend to be a little nutty. But for some inexplicable reason, I leaned out my window and ordered this man to dance. There are no words I can use to express how he suddenly, unabashedly, without reservation, began cutting a rug and freely and furiously dancing like nothing I have ever seen. Nor can I express how much delight or laughter this brought me. Just a random, shared moment between two strangers.

Just a tiny spark.

But I still think about it often, and smile.

Twelve years later.

Slow. It. Down.

     *I've been on hiatus, but now that is over. It is time to get back in the saddle. I will be posting on my blog once a week from this point forward, and working on getting that book published and likely decorating my computer area with rejection letters. If I'm not working on a book, writing in a blog, writing in a journal-or whatever- I'm not fully happy. So that's just that. Hiatus over now.


     Okay, so here is the deal...

     People, we need to slow down. Slow. It. Down.

     What in the flipping world are we doing to ourselves? I know back in the day people had worries too. Big worries. The crops. Illness.
     But for the love. Are we TRYING to do ourselves in these days? I am not preaching. And if I am, I am preaching to the choir-and I am the choir.
     Let me just share this texting stream between me and my friend. And I promise you, with God as my witness, this is real. Only the slightly inappropriate has been changed or left out.
     A little background info for you. I am a co-room mom for my son's kindergarten class, and I was decorating a door for Boosterthon- a race the kids run and get people to sponsor them to raise money for the school. My son's class has a puppy theme.
     Here ya go...my friend's name has been changed to protect her in case she doesn't want her name associated with my crazy. Here it is...

Me: I've taken Claire (from the show Modern Family) to a whole new level and I need you to talk me down.

Vivian (I know, just go with it): What in the world are you doing?

Me: We have to decorate a door for each K class for Boosterthon. It's a competition-need I say more? I'm making 20 dogs but now I've decided they must all be different breeds and wearing Nike's!!!

Vivian: For the love.

Me: I know. I'm sick.

Vivian: I think they need designer collars too. With quotes. Different ones. And jewels. I think they should also have on little wind suits.

Me: One- I kid you not-has a collar with a jewel. What about sweatbands?

Vivian: I was going to say sweatbands instead of windsuits but I was afraid you would think I was serious.

Me: Well, I know you are kinda making fun of me but I am for realzzz.

Vivian: I know you are for realzzz for realzzz, but I just cannot take a Boosterthon door with 20 dogs of different breeds in Nike's all that seriously.

Me: I'm laughing so hard right now that my son is confused.

Vivian: He's going to have many moments of confusion while his mom is butt-deep in construction paper and glue, I'm afraid. He needs to learn to deal with his reality and just stand back.

Me: I can't stop giggling. You do realize I'm freestyle drawing these pups too...
They are also having a finish line between two hydrants...kid you not.

Vivian: Draw one &^% dog, stack the paper up, cut them out and color them different colors. But that would be too easy. <sigh> Oh, I have no doubt it will be amazing. People may line up to look at it. Like Bellingrath. You could even integrate smells.

Me: In a second I will attempting an Airedale.

Vivian: When they ask me when I knew for sure you had lost your mind, I feel certain I'm going to go back to this conversation.

Me: But I think part of you understands this.

Vivian: Of course I understand it, but it doesn't make it normal.

Me: I'm not sure how to make shoes small enough for the dachshund and poodle.

Vivian: Now that's something you don't hear everyday. And you sure can't Google it.

Me: I need therapy. I'm attempting a Norwegian Elkhound.

Vivian: Then you can do a Rhodesian Ridgeback. That's a normal thing to do on a Wednesday night in April.

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

I think you get the point.

So now that the fact that my insanity has been established, I will add that I think many of us do this to some degree. At least I hope. We place pressure where there should be none. The sick part is that I had an absolute blast doing it. But that is not always the case. I saw on Pinterest the other day..."Twenty five things to say to your child other than 'Good Job.' "   Seriously? SERIOUSLY??? Are we analyzing things THIS much?

It all began with Elf on a Shelf. I'm telling you it did.

Birthday parties are out of control. Soon Justin Bieber will be rented for some of these girl parties. School valentines are now better than goody bags at a birthday party. And don't get me started on goody bags. Yes, I give them. But I also hate myself a little for it.

Thanks to Pinterest, which I unnaturally love, not only do our kids wear a new, cute outfit on the first day of school, but we must take pictures, post them, and compare them to last year's picture, and have them hold a rustic sign with perfectly placed chalk letters saying what they want to be when they grow up.

Oh, and while we are at it, we need to take a picture of them every month so when they are 18 we can put together a montage to a popular song to show the progression of how fast their noses and other features changed every 30 days.

Slow it down people. Slow. It. Down.

YES, I should be looking in the mirror as I say this.

But when I originally wrote this, I had to hurry because there was dog athletic wear to cut out.

I know. I will start tomorrow.


    

Heeeeeere's Johnny!

     I threatened to go Gangnam Style at the bus stop.
    
     Let's just say not a whole lot has improved about our mornings since the first day of the 2012 school year.

     Everyone was listening to me, yet no one was hearing me. So I did what every good mother does. I threatened them. Not only would I have gone all Gangnam, but I'm pretty sure I would have worn sunglasses. Nothing like the threat of public humiliation to get you in gear.

     Of course this was after I sang the most annoying song in the history of the world to get them out of bed just a tad quicker. In the most annoying voice I could muster, I sang this little hand-clapping ditty that our girl scout troop used to sing...

     Say, say little playmate.
     Come out and play with me.
     And bring your dollies three.
     Climb up my apple tree.

     Slide down my rainbow,
     Into my cellar door.
     And we'll be jolly friends,
     forevermore, forevermore, forever more...more...more.

     (Say this like Chandler Bing) Ummm, could there be a more annoying song to wake up to in the morning?

     For two boys? I think not.

     In all fairness, they actually get up pretty well. It's after that when chaos ensues. Or actually, it seems to be whenever we have time constraints or pretty much have to be anywhere. It can be summed up in four words.

     No. Sense. Of. Urgency.

     My youngest could have one leg in his pants while getting dressed and decide to do something like play a board game. This hasn't happened yet, but will any day now.

     One day my youngest even came home from school with a polo shirt on backwards. Like, the kind with three buttons in the front...on BACKWARDS. I tell myself that this somehow occurred on the bus on the way home and that surely all of us couldn't have been that nuts that morning. However, this is the child who wore cleats to preschool two days in a row because we couldn't find his shoes.

     My oldest could be wearing a Velcro suit with everything he needs stuck to it, and we still wouldn't be able to find something.

     And I truly, TRULY would like to make it until 7 a.m., without feeling a tiny bit like Mommy Dearest.

     And it's not just school. Whenever we are on a deadline, things happen. Someone will have to poop as we are walking out the door, or on the way to baseball practice a hummingbird will fly in the house (true story.)

     One day I was so befuddled by the time we left, I drove to the wrong sport.

     The other morning before school I was particularly stressed out. I decided to go with the saying "fake it until you make it." I plastered a huge smile onto my face and hoped that if I smiled long enough maybe I would feel peace and happiness.

     My husband took one look at me and cracked up, because I'm pretty sure I looked a lot like Jack Nicholson right after he pops his head through the splintered door with a billowing, "Heeeeeeeere's Johnny!"   

     I'm sure I'm a lot to blame. I'm not a great morning person, and I'm sure I could wake up earlier so things would go smoother. They would have time to wake up and unwind more before they have to get going. Blah. Blah. Blah.

     On the flipside, our nights rock! We might all watch a family friendly show together, or pile up in a big "snuggle patch" as my littlest one calls them. Heck, just the other night, in true Bill Cosby style, we even had a trial to see if my husband had, in fact, killed the moth we found dead in the trash that I wanted to peacefully capture and set free. I was serious about it. My oldest was the attorney, and I was even trying to find the meat tenderizer to use for a gavel.

     So our evenings are fun, even sometimes downright spectacular. But those mornings...

     And I do take a lot of the blame for this. I'm not organized. I need to implement a better system. If I came up with something, I'm sure they would follow it. Who is the parent here? I'm sure the chaos in the morning is possibly them just getting caught up in the whirlwind that is otherwise known as their mother.

     But the good news is that I did not have to dance at the bus stop. Whew, that was close. The most embarrassing bus stop event was probably from last year when I wore kelly green heels with pajama pants while waiting on the bus.

     I probably couldn't find my shoes.

    Yeah, no idea where they get it...


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