Well, almost a month after she turned 9, we finally got to have her "party." We had thought about having it here at the house, but being in the middle of a constant remodel, it just wasn't gonna happen. So I decided to book a room at one of the local hotels and let her pick a few friends to invite. Since I'm always a fly by the seat of my pants kinda girl (the doctor calls it ADD) I talked to the moms of the girls between Tuesday and Thursday, and got the room booked and the party plans finished as I worked Friday.
So, friends invited, suite at the hotel paid for, plans to get the pizza and cake and meet the other girls at the Howard Johnson at 6 for a night of swimming, golf, shuffleboard, and girly giggles!
I had warned one of the moms that has recently moved to AC that even when I planned to be extra early, I was always running behind. Well to say the least, I exceeded my expectations!
I was working that day, so I brought one of her girlfriends home with us. Since she had a basketball game the next morning, I had to run by the house to grab her uniform and our suitcase. We got all of that done in plenty of time to run by Walmart, grab a cake, then run by Papa Johns to pick up the pizza. I called it in as I was checking out at Walmart, in order to give them plenty of time to have our pizzas ready and get to the hotel by 6.
YEAH RIGHT!! So I get to Papa Johns to pick up the pizzas, only to be told, "Your pizzas are being delivered."
Me: "Ummm, excuse me? My pizzas are what? I DON'T EVEN LIVE HERE!!"
Guy: "Oh, really? You don't live at 1215 20th Street?"
Me: "No, I live 20 minutes out of town, and you wouldn't delivered if I wanted you to!"
Guy: "Well I don't know why they are being delivered, I'll call the delivery guy."
I stayed very calm, laughing this entire time. Because remember, if you don't laugh, you'll go crazy. ;) I called Keith to have him go to the hotel to meet the other girls while me, Ariel, Drew and Ally waited for the delivery guy to get back with my pizzas. Turns out they can't get in touch with him, so the manager decided to remake my order, for free. Sounds great, that's 50 bucks I don't have to spend. I called the other moms to let them know what was happening, and that we would be there once we got the pizzas, which we finally did almost an hour after promised. As I was getting the fresh pizzas my phone rings. The delivery guy had just walked past me and was calling to tell me he couldn't find my house. Really? NO WAY!?!? Ya think that's maybe because the address doesn't really exist? Again, we just laughed. The lady ahead of me that came to pick up her pizzas that were also being delivered wasn't so friendly.
So we got to the hotel, put everything in the room, and let the girls eat pizza. I commented to the other moms that I really thought I'd paid for a much nicer room, but didn't question it, since it wasn't going to be used for more than sleeping. The girls had a WONDERFUL time and Ariel declared it her best party ever.
So we go to check out the next morning so I can take the girls to breakfast at IHOP with the money I didn't have to use on pizza. The boys had gone home with mema. The lady at the hotel's desk was on the phone with her manager telling about how unhappy many of the guests were. I almost hated to mention the fact that I had to take a cold shower, but...she asked! Then she mentioned that I had paid for a family suite, but that was definitely NOT the room they put me in. Whew! I wasn't going crazy. Thankfully, I was able to call Hotels.com and they refunded a good portion of the room charges.
So we get to IHOP and are eating breakfast when Keith calls. Mema was planning on bringing Drew, Isaac and our nephew Ethan to him while she took her car in for an oil change. One problem! They had just called him to come to work. So instead, she brings the three boys to me at IHOP. The to say the least, looks and comments I got from the people in IHOP when I walked out the door with 7 kids BY MYSELF were priceless!
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Monday, February 1, 2010
My granny...
I must say I love this lady with all my heart. She is no longer the woman I grew up living beside, because this horrible disease called Alzheimers has taken hold of her brain, but I love her as much today as I did on the fishing bank as a little girl. So I'm going to share her with you all. Granny was my daddy's mother, and to say the least he was a momma's boy until the day he died.
For as long as I can remember, my granny lived next door to us. In Amarillo when I was just a very young child, I remember her rescuing me from a horrible neighbor, who very likely would have done terrible things had she not noticed.
I don't remember walking to the beauty shop with her every week, but she always told of the time I hopped up in the chair and told the lady to "cut it all off!" Heck, that's what I want to tell them every time I get in the chair. Thankfully she stopped them just in time, because just like my husband, my daddy thought girls should have long hair.
Before I turned 5 and started school, we moved to a house in Graham. Granny lived just up the road, as did my Uncle and his family. Who needs friends when your cousins are just a short walk away? We all stayed with Granny while our parents worked. I'll never forget walking down to the river to fish with her. Even though it was a very steep decent, she could always make it down for countless hours of fishing.
We might as well have lived with her, we were all there so much. I remember one day she was cooking livers. How gross! But of course one of us wanted to "try" them, so the rest of us took the dare. OMG, that was the best thing we'd ever eaten! It wasn't until I was grown that she told me what we had really eaten was a pork chop. She didn't have enough liver, so she cooked a pork chop and shared that will all of us.
I'll also never forget making fun of Granny for farting. OMG, how gross! I promise I think of that day EVERY TIME I start farting with every step I take.
My aunt also lived with her for many years. If I learned anything from there relationship it is that no matter how old they are, siblings will ALWAYS fight! Those two ladies could go at it like my kids do today. But man could they cook. My poor husband was sure hoping I would inherit that part at least. Nope, he got the farting! When we first started dating, Sundays were family dinner days. One taste of Granny's deer meat and Aunt Belle's homemade biscuits, and it was a VERY long time before he had a Sunday lunch at his mom's house.
Even after we married, we always made time to go to Granny's house. Of course, she always had her famous fried chicken, Mexican food, or something else wonderful to eat. She is remembered in Amarillo to this day for being the Mexican food cook at the bowling alley.
Two years ago, things changed. After my dad passed away close to 6 years ago, she told us that she didn't have a reason to live. My dad worshiped the ground she walked on, and my mom was always there to care for her as well. Well around Thanksgiving of 2007, she started having some confusion, as well as some pain. Just before going into the hospital for gallbladder surgery, she lost most of her motor skills. Her daughters determined at that time that she would have to go to the nursing home. Even after being told for years that these were her wishes, when the time came, it was hard on EVERYONE. There were many tears shed, and still are. Dementia is a horrible disease to watch, but I must say through it we have stories to share. Up until recently, she's had phases where she was still very coherent. But during her confused phases, we have to laugh to keep from crying.
Not long after she was put in, my Aunt Ruby and I were in checking on her. She was still pretty weak, so we were helping her go to the bathroom. One of the aides walked past the door just enough for her to see. Of course, my aunt and I had to leave the room when she screams, "I think he raped me!" Nothing like that had ever come from her mouth, and the way it came out was so shocking and hilarious that it took us a bit to gather our composure. She has had more lesbian room mates that want to marry her than we can count. They are always hiding bodies in the nursing home, and there are gun battles nightly. One of the ladies is so very rich that she has diamonds stashed behind a picture in the wall. She also has a lady that she literally HATES. Mrs. Hoffman can't speak, and really does follow her around. Granny has on more than one occasion been not so kind to Mrs. H.
Of course one of the symptoms of Alzheimers is the paranoia. Someone is always taking things from them. For her, it's her snuff. Now this one Keith's thankful that I didn't choose to follow. She has always dipped Honest snuff. Before giving Granny a kiss, you must make sure her face is clean. Again, this has been the case for as far back as I can remember. I can't even begin to tell you how many different places we've found her snuff. During her last hospital visit, I asked a little too loudly for her liking if she needed a dip of snuff. To say the least, she cussed me, and told me that she hoped I was happy, because now they knew and would come steal it from her.
Dh and I took the kids to visit this weekend. Of course, for them, this isn't the Great Granny they knew just a short time ago. During this visit, we again played hide and seek with the snuff. Since she hides it from herself, it's always a challenge to figure out where she hid it last. She kept digging through her dresser, but it wasn't there. We checked the fridge, under the mattress, under the pillow, then I finally checked in the closet. There in the very corner, under a pile of dirty laundry was her small can of snuff. So of course, she needed a spoon and cup to get the stuff in her mouth, and then to spit in. In the few seconds it took me to get those, she had shoved the snuff down the front of her pants. She didn't have pockets, so of course Isaac cracked up when it came flying down her pants leg.
We got her a dip, then I put it back in her dresser. Nope, not there, they'll find it. So I put it back in her closet. Nope, not good enough. Back in the dresser, nope let's try the top of the closet. Nope, can't reach it there. Dresser. Closet Floor. Pillow. You get the idea! Finally she looked back in the dresser. When it wasn't there, she cussed the "church people."
During this, the lady across the hall came back with her son.
"You see that man over there?"
"Yes Granny, he's taking care of his mom."
"Nope, he's the one that's sexually assaulting all of us!"
"O.k. Granny! It's time for us to go, we love you."
Everyone got their snuff hugs and kisses and we headed back home. Is it wrong to laugh? Probably. Good Lord knows I'll probably be there one day. Does it help to laugh. You bet. I know that lady isn't my Granny. And boy do I miss the lady that helped raise me.
For as long as I can remember, my granny lived next door to us. In Amarillo when I was just a very young child, I remember her rescuing me from a horrible neighbor, who very likely would have done terrible things had she not noticed.
I don't remember walking to the beauty shop with her every week, but she always told of the time I hopped up in the chair and told the lady to "cut it all off!" Heck, that's what I want to tell them every time I get in the chair. Thankfully she stopped them just in time, because just like my husband, my daddy thought girls should have long hair.
Before I turned 5 and started school, we moved to a house in Graham. Granny lived just up the road, as did my Uncle and his family. Who needs friends when your cousins are just a short walk away? We all stayed with Granny while our parents worked. I'll never forget walking down to the river to fish with her. Even though it was a very steep decent, she could always make it down for countless hours of fishing.
We might as well have lived with her, we were all there so much. I remember one day she was cooking livers. How gross! But of course one of us wanted to "try" them, so the rest of us took the dare. OMG, that was the best thing we'd ever eaten! It wasn't until I was grown that she told me what we had really eaten was a pork chop. She didn't have enough liver, so she cooked a pork chop and shared that will all of us.
I'll also never forget making fun of Granny for farting. OMG, how gross! I promise I think of that day EVERY TIME I start farting with every step I take.
My aunt also lived with her for many years. If I learned anything from there relationship it is that no matter how old they are, siblings will ALWAYS fight! Those two ladies could go at it like my kids do today. But man could they cook. My poor husband was sure hoping I would inherit that part at least. Nope, he got the farting! When we first started dating, Sundays were family dinner days. One taste of Granny's deer meat and Aunt Belle's homemade biscuits, and it was a VERY long time before he had a Sunday lunch at his mom's house.
Even after we married, we always made time to go to Granny's house. Of course, she always had her famous fried chicken, Mexican food, or something else wonderful to eat. She is remembered in Amarillo to this day for being the Mexican food cook at the bowling alley.
Two years ago, things changed. After my dad passed away close to 6 years ago, she told us that she didn't have a reason to live. My dad worshiped the ground she walked on, and my mom was always there to care for her as well. Well around Thanksgiving of 2007, she started having some confusion, as well as some pain. Just before going into the hospital for gallbladder surgery, she lost most of her motor skills. Her daughters determined at that time that she would have to go to the nursing home. Even after being told for years that these were her wishes, when the time came, it was hard on EVERYONE. There were many tears shed, and still are. Dementia is a horrible disease to watch, but I must say through it we have stories to share. Up until recently, she's had phases where she was still very coherent. But during her confused phases, we have to laugh to keep from crying.
Not long after she was put in, my Aunt Ruby and I were in checking on her. She was still pretty weak, so we were helping her go to the bathroom. One of the aides walked past the door just enough for her to see. Of course, my aunt and I had to leave the room when she screams, "I think he raped me!" Nothing like that had ever come from her mouth, and the way it came out was so shocking and hilarious that it took us a bit to gather our composure. She has had more lesbian room mates that want to marry her than we can count. They are always hiding bodies in the nursing home, and there are gun battles nightly. One of the ladies is so very rich that she has diamonds stashed behind a picture in the wall. She also has a lady that she literally HATES. Mrs. Hoffman can't speak, and really does follow her around. Granny has on more than one occasion been not so kind to Mrs. H.
Of course one of the symptoms of Alzheimers is the paranoia. Someone is always taking things from them. For her, it's her snuff. Now this one Keith's thankful that I didn't choose to follow. She has always dipped Honest snuff. Before giving Granny a kiss, you must make sure her face is clean. Again, this has been the case for as far back as I can remember. I can't even begin to tell you how many different places we've found her snuff. During her last hospital visit, I asked a little too loudly for her liking if she needed a dip of snuff. To say the least, she cussed me, and told me that she hoped I was happy, because now they knew and would come steal it from her.
Dh and I took the kids to visit this weekend. Of course, for them, this isn't the Great Granny they knew just a short time ago. During this visit, we again played hide and seek with the snuff. Since she hides it from herself, it's always a challenge to figure out where she hid it last. She kept digging through her dresser, but it wasn't there. We checked the fridge, under the mattress, under the pillow, then I finally checked in the closet. There in the very corner, under a pile of dirty laundry was her small can of snuff. So of course, she needed a spoon and cup to get the stuff in her mouth, and then to spit in. In the few seconds it took me to get those, she had shoved the snuff down the front of her pants. She didn't have pockets, so of course Isaac cracked up when it came flying down her pants leg.
We got her a dip, then I put it back in her dresser. Nope, not there, they'll find it. So I put it back in her closet. Nope, not good enough. Back in the dresser, nope let's try the top of the closet. Nope, can't reach it there. Dresser. Closet Floor. Pillow. You get the idea! Finally she looked back in the dresser. When it wasn't there, she cussed the "church people."
During this, the lady across the hall came back with her son.
"You see that man over there?"
"Yes Granny, he's taking care of his mom."
"Nope, he's the one that's sexually assaulting all of us!"
"O.k. Granny! It's time for us to go, we love you."
Everyone got their snuff hugs and kisses and we headed back home. Is it wrong to laugh? Probably. Good Lord knows I'll probably be there one day. Does it help to laugh. You bet. I know that lady isn't my Granny. And boy do I miss the lady that helped raise me.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
That was scary!
I think this one ranks right up there with Ariel tumping Drew over in the swimming pool when he was a baby, because the panic is one you never will forget.
We were at Ariel's basketball game on Saturday and Isaac decided putting his quarter and nickle down mommy's turtleneck sweater would be a fun game. So I'm watching (read yelling) the girls play and trying to keep him from putting his hands down my shirt to retrieve said coins when all of a sudden, Isaac gets this look of terror on his face and starts pointing to his mouth. It took a few seconds it to hit me what was happening, and I kept asking him if he'd put one of the coins in his mouth. He shook his head no, but was obviously choking on something. My only reaction was to jerk him up, and run towards my mom (a nurse) at the other end of the court. I ran with him face to the ground bent over my arm in a sort of Heimlich maneuver. Of course as soon as I stood up, the infamous coins fell to the ground from my shirt and bra, so the people sitting around us thought he had choked on the coins also. I got to the door, and all I could do was yell at my mom that "HE'S CHOKING!" Of course she grabbed him and did a full Heimlich on him, and he started gagging. I picked him back up, and ran with him towards the bathroom all the while asking him if he was going to be sick. He gagged a few more times, and finally started breathing. By this time Keith was right beside me. He saw the wide eyed look and panicked right along with me. I asked him if he got choked on his gum, but he kept telling me he "licked" my fuzzy sweater. All he cared about was that "Granny hurt his tongue, when she squeezed his tummy!" I finally got calmed down and we went back across the gym to watch the game. To say the least I hope I never have a scare like that again. I'll be grey before I'm 35!
We were at Ariel's basketball game on Saturday and Isaac decided putting his quarter and nickle down mommy's turtleneck sweater would be a fun game. So I'm watching (read yelling) the girls play and trying to keep him from putting his hands down my shirt to retrieve said coins when all of a sudden, Isaac gets this look of terror on his face and starts pointing to his mouth. It took a few seconds it to hit me what was happening, and I kept asking him if he'd put one of the coins in his mouth. He shook his head no, but was obviously choking on something. My only reaction was to jerk him up, and run towards my mom (a nurse) at the other end of the court. I ran with him face to the ground bent over my arm in a sort of Heimlich maneuver. Of course as soon as I stood up, the infamous coins fell to the ground from my shirt and bra, so the people sitting around us thought he had choked on the coins also. I got to the door, and all I could do was yell at my mom that "HE'S CHOKING!" Of course she grabbed him and did a full Heimlich on him, and he started gagging. I picked him back up, and ran with him towards the bathroom all the while asking him if he was going to be sick. He gagged a few more times, and finally started breathing. By this time Keith was right beside me. He saw the wide eyed look and panicked right along with me. I asked him if he got choked on his gum, but he kept telling me he "licked" my fuzzy sweater. All he cared about was that "Granny hurt his tongue, when she squeezed his tummy!" I finally got calmed down and we went back across the gym to watch the game. To say the least I hope I never have a scare like that again. I'll be grey before I'm 35!
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Mi vida loca...
Wow! I'd ask if it was Friday yet, but lately the weekends are as busy as the week, so they all run together. I have had very little down time since my last post. Right now I only have two with ball practice/games and I feel like we are constantly on the go. I'm not sure what I'll do when Isaac is old enough to start. Basketball isn't even over yet, and we are already getting our softball and baseball meetings set up. But Ariel and Drew are both LOVING basketball, and they both scored points in their games this weekend.
So the other things from my crazy life you might like to laugh with me about. Drew is six. He lost his first tooth last week! Who pulled it? How did he pull it? Yeah, those are the questions you typically ask after a tooth is gone. But really, I prefer that you didn't, because then the whole world would know that my child was in the car with his sister alone, GASP! while I ran into the store. O.k. we're talking Archer City here, and it's not really a "store," to get the kids breakfast. AKA a blueberry muffin and some powdered sugar donuts since that is what we do on the days mommy has to work. I get back to the car and Drew is freaking out. "I was biting this and my tooth is about to come out!" So I calmly got a tissue and pulled straight up popping the tooth right out. Of course I told him just to tell people that his mom pulled his tooth, and not to mention the fact that he was biting BUBBLE WRAP when his sister jerked it out of his mouth. So I let him go to the nurse to get a treasure box so he wouldn't lose the tooth. Yeah right! There's a tooth under the seat of my car, but the tooth fairy was kind and put the money under his pillow anyways.
Did I mention that he's six? Which I THOUGHT meant he wouldn't do dumb things like "accidentally" cutting the knee out of his new jeans with scissors at school. Or better yet, playing barber on his own head with his sister's scissors. Could he have done it at the back of his head? Nope, he cut pretty close to the scalp RIGHT IN THE FREAKIN' MIDDLE OF HIS FOREHEAD! I discovered it when brushing his hair on Sunday morning for church. When I asked him about it, he tried telling me that "a kid at school did it!" I mean seriously, do I have something stamped on my head that would make him think I was that dumb? So now I've told him that he's not allowed to use scissors until he's 16.
So there's just a sneak peak at a week of mi vida loca...
So the other things from my crazy life you might like to laugh with me about. Drew is six. He lost his first tooth last week! Who pulled it? How did he pull it? Yeah, those are the questions you typically ask after a tooth is gone. But really, I prefer that you didn't, because then the whole world would know that my child was in the car with his sister alone, GASP! while I ran into the store. O.k. we're talking Archer City here, and it's not really a "store," to get the kids breakfast. AKA a blueberry muffin and some powdered sugar donuts since that is what we do on the days mommy has to work. I get back to the car and Drew is freaking out. "I was biting this and my tooth is about to come out!" So I calmly got a tissue and pulled straight up popping the tooth right out. Of course I told him just to tell people that his mom pulled his tooth, and not to mention the fact that he was biting BUBBLE WRAP when his sister jerked it out of his mouth. So I let him go to the nurse to get a treasure box so he wouldn't lose the tooth. Yeah right! There's a tooth under the seat of my car, but the tooth fairy was kind and put the money under his pillow anyways.
Did I mention that he's six? Which I THOUGHT meant he wouldn't do dumb things like "accidentally" cutting the knee out of his new jeans with scissors at school. Or better yet, playing barber on his own head with his sister's scissors. Could he have done it at the back of his head? Nope, he cut pretty close to the scalp RIGHT IN THE FREAKIN' MIDDLE OF HIS FOREHEAD! I discovered it when brushing his hair on Sunday morning for church. When I asked him about it, he tried telling me that "a kid at school did it!" I mean seriously, do I have something stamped on my head that would make him think I was that dumb? So now I've told him that he's not allowed to use scissors until he's 16.
So there's just a sneak peak at a week of mi vida loca...
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Nine years ago...
I was hooked up to a pitocin drip wondering when I would finally become mommy for the first time and if the baby who was so happy inside there would be a boy or a girl. After two years of trying to conceive (damn depo provera) we had finally come to the end of forty one weeks of pregnancy.
It all began much earlier in the day. I had laid down to take a nap with Keith, since he had to go to work at 8 that night. I could never get comfortable, so I got up to go to the bathroom when my water broke. I stepped out and very calmly told Keith that my water had broke to which he replied, "No it didn't!" It took a bit of convincing, but we got a shower and got things together to head to the hospital. My parents were living in Amarillo at the time with my dad's best friend. I called to let them know what was going on. "Uncle Jim" answered and I told him that my water had broke and that they needed to be on their way, to which he replied, "What the hell are you doing on the phone with me then? Why aren't you at the hospital?"
I tied a jacket around my waist so people wouldn't think the pregnant lady had peed on herself and we headed off to the hospital. We finally got to L&D and they immediately knew what was going on. They said the jacket gave me away. The nurse used the litmus paper to confirm that I hadn't indeed peed on myself and they checked me into a room and hooked up the monitors. The only problem was I never started having contractions on my own. I got my epidural fairly early, and have always wondered if that was why. Finally around 8 p.m. the doctor came and we decided to start pitocin. My parents had made it a few hours earlier, and my brother and granny were also at the hospital. My dad and Keith had a great time watching the monitor and telling me how much I should be hurting with each contraction. Unfortunately, the epidural had worked TOO good, and I couldn't feel anything below my belly button. I will never forget thinking how horrible it would be to be paralyzed, since I couldn't even move my legs on my own.
The good thing was that once the pitocin was started, it wasn't long before I was ready to have a baby. Keith and the nurses held my legs, and with just a few pushes, Dr. Hanes let daddy cut the umbilical cord, announced that, "It's a girl!" So at 12:35 a.m. on January 18, Ariel Michelle was born. I'm still not sure who was more proud, the daddy or the papa. My dad had bet mom $5 that she would be a girl. They laughed up until the day he passed away that mom never paid up.
It all began much earlier in the day. I had laid down to take a nap with Keith, since he had to go to work at 8 that night. I could never get comfortable, so I got up to go to the bathroom when my water broke. I stepped out and very calmly told Keith that my water had broke to which he replied, "No it didn't!" It took a bit of convincing, but we got a shower and got things together to head to the hospital. My parents were living in Amarillo at the time with my dad's best friend. I called to let them know what was going on. "Uncle Jim" answered and I told him that my water had broke and that they needed to be on their way, to which he replied, "What the hell are you doing on the phone with me then? Why aren't you at the hospital?"
I tied a jacket around my waist so people wouldn't think the pregnant lady had peed on herself and we headed off to the hospital. We finally got to L&D and they immediately knew what was going on. They said the jacket gave me away. The nurse used the litmus paper to confirm that I hadn't indeed peed on myself and they checked me into a room and hooked up the monitors. The only problem was I never started having contractions on my own. I got my epidural fairly early, and have always wondered if that was why. Finally around 8 p.m. the doctor came and we decided to start pitocin. My parents had made it a few hours earlier, and my brother and granny were also at the hospital. My dad and Keith had a great time watching the monitor and telling me how much I should be hurting with each contraction. Unfortunately, the epidural had worked TOO good, and I couldn't feel anything below my belly button. I will never forget thinking how horrible it would be to be paralyzed, since I couldn't even move my legs on my own.
The good thing was that once the pitocin was started, it wasn't long before I was ready to have a baby. Keith and the nurses held my legs, and with just a few pushes, Dr. Hanes let daddy cut the umbilical cord, announced that, "It's a girl!" So at 12:35 a.m. on January 18, Ariel Michelle was born. I'm still not sure who was more proud, the daddy or the papa. My dad had bet mom $5 that she would be a girl. They laughed up until the day he passed away that mom never paid up.
Friday, January 15, 2010
On a lighter note...
I warned you about Isaac and the highlight reels! So today I grabbed a still sleeping Isaac out of his bed and put him in the carseat. We make it onto the road and of course he realized he's awake and has to pee. So we pull over...wayyyy over since it's so foggy, and I remind him not to pee on me or the door. Ha, yeah right!
So we do the morning thing, reading AR tests to the kindergarteners and come back home to climb in bed. Mommy feels like crud, and I'm honestly not sure when he came and got in bed with me last night, since I went to bed while he was watching Power Rangers. To say the least, we slept until almost noon.
Well, I'm now up, gathering clothes for laundry, since you know that's all we Stay at Home Moms do. Isaac is on the couch watching Power Rangers (see a trend?) when I come back through. Or, maybe he wasn't exactly watching Power Rangers, since his pjs are unzipped, and his hands are...YOU GUESSED IT! Playing with his best friend. I'm so tired of saying "Put your wiener back in your underwear!" that I just kept walking! Yes, I knew that the love affair started young, BUT HE'S THREE YEARS OLD for crying out loud!
And aren't you all glad I haven't figured out how to post pictures yet?!?!
So we do the morning thing, reading AR tests to the kindergarteners and come back home to climb in bed. Mommy feels like crud, and I'm honestly not sure when he came and got in bed with me last night, since I went to bed while he was watching Power Rangers. To say the least, we slept until almost noon.
Well, I'm now up, gathering clothes for laundry, since you know that's all we Stay at Home Moms do. Isaac is on the couch watching Power Rangers (see a trend?) when I come back through. Or, maybe he wasn't exactly watching Power Rangers, since his pjs are unzipped, and his hands are...YOU GUESSED IT! Playing with his best friend. I'm so tired of saying "Put your wiener back in your underwear!" that I just kept walking! Yes, I knew that the love affair started young, BUT HE'S THREE YEARS OLD for crying out loud!
And aren't you all glad I haven't figured out how to post pictures yet?!?!
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Shaken by the Haiti Earthquake.
We have taken Ariel to several different Christian concerts with us. Each group typically has it's own charity preference, and concert goers are given the opportunity to give to that particular group. So Ariel has had the opportunity to hear about The Blood Water Mission, World Vision, and Compassion International to name a few. For weeks following a Casting Crowns concert we heard about how many of these children had nothing but dirt formed into "cookies" and dried in the sun to eat. It really had an impact on her. It wasn't much later that we went to another concert at FBC in Wichita Falls. During this concert, Compassion was the charity that we were given the opportunity to support. Again, after hearing the stories, Ariel was very touched, and insisted that we sponsor a child. So we looked through the cards with all of these little faces, names, and birthdays looking for one close to Ariel's age. She chose the girl with "the pretty pink dress." Her name is Mischma Dimanche, and her birthday is February 28, 2001. The closest we could find to Ariel's DOB January 18, 2001. Ariel and Mischma have written several letters back and forth, and honestly have SO very much in common.
When Ariel first heard of the earthquake in Haiti, she asked if "that's where her little girl lives." I told her yes it was, but we would have to come home to see exactly what part of Haiti it was. Mommy has ADD and doesn't remember these things for longer than a day. Well, tonight I was finally able to pull out a letter and look up Mischma's information. Unfortunately, her village is located very near the epicenter of where the earthquake hit. I have recieved several emails from Compassion reassuring me that they will let us know when they have information about Mischma. The things I've read online do not look very promising. So now, this tragedy that first seemed so many miles away seems to have hit so very close to home. Please keep the Dimanche family in your prayers, as well as the rest of the country. It's times like this when I remember my mom returning from her mission trip to the Ukraine with pictures of the orphanage. Ariel kept asking my mom, "how much does it cost to buy those children?" Oh if there was enough money to "buy those children."
When Ariel first heard of the earthquake in Haiti, she asked if "that's where her little girl lives." I told her yes it was, but we would have to come home to see exactly what part of Haiti it was. Mommy has ADD and doesn't remember these things for longer than a day. Well, tonight I was finally able to pull out a letter and look up Mischma's information. Unfortunately, her village is located very near the epicenter of where the earthquake hit. I have recieved several emails from Compassion reassuring me that they will let us know when they have information about Mischma. The things I've read online do not look very promising. So now, this tragedy that first seemed so many miles away seems to have hit so very close to home. Please keep the Dimanche family in your prayers, as well as the rest of the country. It's times like this when I remember my mom returning from her mission trip to the Ukraine with pictures of the orphanage. Ariel kept asking my mom, "how much does it cost to buy those children?" Oh if there was enough money to "buy those children."
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
So we went to the Eagles vs. Cowboys Game...
And of course it was an AWESOME experience. The very first playoff in Cowboy's Stadium, and we were part of the 92,951 record setting crowd. Along for the ride were Former President Bush, Laura Bush, and Emmit Smith, just to drop a few names. We had amazing seats in the lower level end zone, so I had the opportunity to declare my love for Miles Austin as he warmed up before the game.
A few things I learned and a few I still question...
How long does it take to clean up all of the pink puke? They serve 15 dollar mixed drinks in a very nice Dallas Cowboys glass. But everywhere you walk you see splatterings of where the chic in stilettos had one too many. Which leads me to my next pondering.
Why on earth would you wear stilettos to a football game? Really? Do you think Miles is gonna see your toes and come running? There are stairs EVERYWHERE, not to mention the walk up to the stadium. But I suppose if you've had enough of the pink stuff or the $8.50 Miller Lites the feet feel no pain.
I also learned through the guys sitting a row ahead of us that if you tip the beer guy 2 bucks with every beer you buy, he's sure to stick close by. Because you know of course that box of beer loaded with that ice gets heavy. So taking a break right behind the big tipping drunks only makes sense. Said drunks were extremely close to having an escort of their own for harassing the Eagles fan. And of course the typical question, "What did I do?"
Now as a Cowboys fan, there is NO WAY I would go into hostile territory all decked out in my Cowboys gear. At least if I did, I don't think I would expect anything less than harassment. And if I choose to get stupid and mouthy with the home teams fans, I would expect no less than 5 security guards and the local police department to escort my butt out, right along with the other 4 friends who were causing trouble with me. I would also curse the fans the entire time we are being escorted out.
Of course, I found out by experience that if you happen to take your ticket with you to the bathroom, and leave it sitting on the toilet paper holder, then by all means the chic in stilettos who's been drinking too many pink drinks will choose that exact stall to die in. Okay, so she didn't die, but I'm guessing she wished she had from the pink puke. Thankfully for her (really me) her girlfriends came to her rescue, and I was able to get my ticket back. Is it wrong that I laughed a little that her girlfriends were in the bathroom with the camera? :o
So all in all, it was one of the most awesome experiences as a Cowboys fan. We had been at the last playoff win against the Eagles in '96, so it was only fitting we went this time.
$284 for two seats in section 122.
$27.80 for parking with a shuttle to and from the stadium.
Seeing the Cowboys beat the Eagles, and getting to sing "Hey, hey, hey...Goodbye" with close to 100,000 other fans. PRICELESS!
A few things I learned and a few I still question...
How long does it take to clean up all of the pink puke? They serve 15 dollar mixed drinks in a very nice Dallas Cowboys glass. But everywhere you walk you see splatterings of where the chic in stilettos had one too many. Which leads me to my next pondering.
Why on earth would you wear stilettos to a football game? Really? Do you think Miles is gonna see your toes and come running? There are stairs EVERYWHERE, not to mention the walk up to the stadium. But I suppose if you've had enough of the pink stuff or the $8.50 Miller Lites the feet feel no pain.
I also learned through the guys sitting a row ahead of us that if you tip the beer guy 2 bucks with every beer you buy, he's sure to stick close by. Because you know of course that box of beer loaded with that ice gets heavy. So taking a break right behind the big tipping drunks only makes sense. Said drunks were extremely close to having an escort of their own for harassing the Eagles fan. And of course the typical question, "What did I do?"
Now as a Cowboys fan, there is NO WAY I would go into hostile territory all decked out in my Cowboys gear. At least if I did, I don't think I would expect anything less than harassment. And if I choose to get stupid and mouthy with the home teams fans, I would expect no less than 5 security guards and the local police department to escort my butt out, right along with the other 4 friends who were causing trouble with me. I would also curse the fans the entire time we are being escorted out.
Of course, I found out by experience that if you happen to take your ticket with you to the bathroom, and leave it sitting on the toilet paper holder, then by all means the chic in stilettos who's been drinking too many pink drinks will choose that exact stall to die in. Okay, so she didn't die, but I'm guessing she wished she had from the pink puke. Thankfully for her (really me) her girlfriends came to her rescue, and I was able to get my ticket back. Is it wrong that I laughed a little that her girlfriends were in the bathroom with the camera? :o
So all in all, it was one of the most awesome experiences as a Cowboys fan. We had been at the last playoff win against the Eagles in '96, so it was only fitting we went this time.
$284 for two seats in section 122.
$27.80 for parking with a shuttle to and from the stadium.
Seeing the Cowboys beat the Eagles, and getting to sing "Hey, hey, hey...Goodbye" with close to 100,000 other fans. PRICELESS!
Monday, January 11, 2010
The SN ladies have talked me into it...
So here goes! If you're here, then you probably already know, but I'll bore ya anyways. I'm Melinda. I've been married to my wonderful husband Keith since June 11, 1994. Yes, 15 1/2 years. He loves to remind me that if we had children when we first got married, they would almost be out of the house. But, we lived a little before Ariel came along in January of 2001. O.k. so we lived A LOT! Thirty two months later, in October of 2003, Drew came along and all those things we did with just one kid in tow came to an end. Then Isaac, or "laughter," came along in May of 2006. And to say he lives up to his name would be an understatement. I'm sure he'll make the highlight reels quite often. And since I'm just a little bit obsessed with football, being referee to 3 is only fitting! Now let the flag throwing begin!
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