Friday, April 3, 2009
Friday, April 17, 2009
$$ REWARD $$
LOST COW
IF FOUND PLEASE CALL DISTRAUGHT PARENTS
Monday, March 17, 2008
Mooty Mishap of March 2008
I thought I had already experienced plenty "being a parent" moments, but I was mistaken. It was a breezy Thursday evening when John, Rylee, and I went to the mall to run some errands. Since it was dinner time when we got there we decided to grab a bite to eat. We stopped in at the Ghangis Grill, but it didn’t appeal to John by the smell of things. So we headed over to R.J. Gators, a place we have been many times before. I love their Gorgonzola Bacon Cheeseburger, delish! We ate our meals and headed off to accomplish the previously mentioned needed errands. The trip around the mall took about two hours including dinner. We got back to the car and I started loading Rylee into her car seat. I looked on the floor in front of Rylee’s dangling feet. I looked in the dark hole next to the car seat that manages to be a vacuum for goldfish crackers. I looked in the front seat. I looked under the front seat. I tried to be calm but the alarm in my voice was apparent, "Where's Mooty?" I said. (For those of you who don’t know, or haven’t noticed Mooty in multiple Rylee pictures, Mooty is a black and white stuffed cow. John brought him back from a trip to Wisconsin for Rylee and she has been attached to him ever since. Her first birthday party was themed around Mooty.) So a plan of action was put into motion without even having to discuss logistics. I made sure I had my cell phone and I almost started sprinting back to the mall to retrace my steps. John got in the car with Rylee in tow; she was completely unaware at the looming crisis her parents were now facing. Yes, we have a back up Mooty sealed in an airtight plastic bag. So what if we can go online to purchase another Mooty, not the point.
I lost a doll when I was kid, and according to my mom, dad, and grandmother I was inconsolable. I was young enough that they were able to buy the same doll and let me believe they had found my lost doll. The point is that I would know the back up Mooty was a fraud, an impostor, a lie. What kind of mother would I be if I committed such an atrocity? I had visions of being compared to Britney Spears and that made me sweat. But I digress…
I passed the Ghangis Grill since we didn’t eat there and headed straight for R.J. Gators. The hostess was nice enough to look all the way in the kitchen for Mooty. (Did she think they were running out of meat?) No luck there so I headed back to the car since I didn’t recall seeing Rylee actually holding Mooty the entire time we were walking around the mall. On a whim I stopped in the Ghangis Grill thinking maybe, just maybe, Mooty might be hanging out telling stories to the waitresses of being dragged on the ground by Rylee as she crawled after our cats. He’d laugh as he was reminiscing about all the boogers and snot he had accumulated from Rylee’s kisses. He might turn a little green as he relived his near death experience in the washing machine.
As I entered the restaurant the hostess was about to seat me when I stopped her and started to ask, "Has anyone turned in a little…MOOTY! Oh thank God!" I shrieked with delight as I turned my head and saw Mooty sitting on the hostess podium smiling at me as though he was oblivious to the heart attack he had just given me. He knew what he had done. The hostess did not question my ownership of Mooty as I left her, she could tell by my reaction that Mooty was coming with me.
I didn’t cry until I got back into the car. John handed Rylee her precious Mooty and at that moment we were grateful she could not tell time or scold us for putting Mooty through such a traumatic experience.
I told John I had visions of some obnoxious child finding Mooty and taking him home. John said, "What parent would let their kid have that dingy cow?" He made an excellent point. I fought off tears the whole way home, I’m not sure why; maybe memories of my own lost doll came to mind. Mooty, the dingy cow, has become a part of our family. I think even the possibility of my daughter being sad over losing her favorite stuffed animal was too much to handle. I know I better get some thicker skin because pain and hurt are inevitable for Rylee, but that doesn’t mean I won’t do everything I can to shield her from as much pain and hurt as possible, even if it meant putting up Missing Posters for Mooty.
LOST COW
IF FOUND PLEASE CALL DISTRAUGHT PARENTS
Monday, March 17, 2008
Mooty Mishap of March 2008
I thought I had already experienced plenty "being a parent" moments, but I was mistaken. It was a breezy Thursday evening when John, Rylee, and I went to the mall to run some errands. Since it was dinner time when we got there we decided to grab a bite to eat. We stopped in at the Ghangis Grill, but it didn’t appeal to John by the smell of things. So we headed over to R.J. Gators, a place we have been many times before. I love their Gorgonzola Bacon Cheeseburger, delish! We ate our meals and headed off to accomplish the previously mentioned needed errands. The trip around the mall took about two hours including dinner. We got back to the car and I started loading Rylee into her car seat. I looked on the floor in front of Rylee’s dangling feet. I looked in the dark hole next to the car seat that manages to be a vacuum for goldfish crackers. I looked in the front seat. I looked under the front seat. I tried to be calm but the alarm in my voice was apparent, "Where's Mooty?" I said. (For those of you who don’t know, or haven’t noticed Mooty in multiple Rylee pictures, Mooty is a black and white stuffed cow. John brought him back from a trip to Wisconsin for Rylee and she has been attached to him ever since. Her first birthday party was themed around Mooty.) So a plan of action was put into motion without even having to discuss logistics. I made sure I had my cell phone and I almost started sprinting back to the mall to retrace my steps. John got in the car with Rylee in tow; she was completely unaware at the looming crisis her parents were now facing. Yes, we have a back up Mooty sealed in an airtight plastic bag. So what if we can go online to purchase another Mooty, not the point.
I lost a doll when I was kid, and according to my mom, dad, and grandmother I was inconsolable. I was young enough that they were able to buy the same doll and let me believe they had found my lost doll. The point is that I would know the back up Mooty was a fraud, an impostor, a lie. What kind of mother would I be if I committed such an atrocity? I had visions of being compared to Britney Spears and that made me sweat. But I digress…
I passed the Ghangis Grill since we didn’t eat there and headed straight for R.J. Gators. The hostess was nice enough to look all the way in the kitchen for Mooty. (Did she think they were running out of meat?) No luck there so I headed back to the car since I didn’t recall seeing Rylee actually holding Mooty the entire time we were walking around the mall. On a whim I stopped in the Ghangis Grill thinking maybe, just maybe, Mooty might be hanging out telling stories to the waitresses of being dragged on the ground by Rylee as she crawled after our cats. He’d laugh as he was reminiscing about all the boogers and snot he had accumulated from Rylee’s kisses. He might turn a little green as he relived his near death experience in the washing machine.
As I entered the restaurant the hostess was about to seat me when I stopped her and started to ask, "Has anyone turned in a little…MOOTY! Oh thank God!" I shrieked with delight as I turned my head and saw Mooty sitting on the hostess podium smiling at me as though he was oblivious to the heart attack he had just given me. He knew what he had done. The hostess did not question my ownership of Mooty as I left her, she could tell by my reaction that Mooty was coming with me.
I didn’t cry until I got back into the car. John handed Rylee her precious Mooty and at that moment we were grateful she could not tell time or scold us for putting Mooty through such a traumatic experience.
I told John I had visions of some obnoxious child finding Mooty and taking him home. John said, "What parent would let their kid have that dingy cow?" He made an excellent point. I fought off tears the whole way home, I’m not sure why; maybe memories of my own lost doll came to mind. Mooty, the dingy cow, has become a part of our family. I think even the possibility of my daughter being sad over losing her favorite stuffed animal was too much to handle. I know I better get some thicker skin because pain and hurt are inevitable for Rylee, but that doesn’t mean I won’t do everything I can to shield her from as much pain and hurt as possible, even if it meant putting up Missing Posters for Mooty.
Sunday, December 02, 2007
With a flip of the switch!
It's a Christmas miracle I tell you! You know that commercial with the guy asking his wife to help him figure out the function of the mysterious switch in their garage? He flips it back and forth saying, "On, off, on, off...," the wife never looks up and just says, "Nope nothing honey." Meanwhile two doors down from the couple a lady is halfway in her garage with her car and her garage door just keeps slamming down on her hood. John and I were quite amused by this commercial since we too have a mysterious switch in our garage. We've lived in our house over two years and have never figured out what the switch was for. That is until today...duh duh duh.
Apparently it goes to an outlet on the outside of our house near our roof. We actually asked for that to be installed so when we hung Christmas lights we'd have somewhere closer to plug the lights in. Somehow we haven't used it until today. John plugged brand new lights into the outlet and they wouldn't work. Don't ask me what made me think to check that mysterious switch, but I did, and now we shall kick some yule tide butt in the house lighting competition in our neighborhood! Even if we don't win the evil homeowner's association stupid contest, John and I had our own victory today, complete with high five and embarrassing victory dance. Of course John got off the ladder for the dance. God bless us everyone.
With a flip of the switch!
It's a Christmas miracle I tell you! You know that commercial with the guy asking his wife to help him figure out the function of the mysterious switch in their garage? He flips it back and forth saying, "On, off, on, off...," the wife never looks up and just says, "Nope nothing honey." Meanwhile two doors down from the couple a lady is halfway in her garage with her car and her garage door just keeps slamming down on her hood. John and I were quite amused by this commercial since we too have a mysterious switch in our garage. We've lived in our house over two years and have never figured out what the switch was for. That is until today...duh duh duh.
Apparently it goes to an outlet on the outside of our house near our roof. We actually asked for that to be installed so when we hung Christmas lights we'd have somewhere closer to plug the lights in. Somehow we haven't used it until today. John plugged brand new lights into the outlet and they wouldn't work. Don't ask me what made me think to check that mysterious switch, but I did, and now we shall kick some yule tide butt in the house lighting competition in our neighborhood! Even if we don't win the evil homeowner's association stupid contest, John and I had our own victory today, complete with high five and embarrassing victory dance. Of course John got off the ladder for the dance. God bless us everyone.
Sunday, November 04, 2007
That’s what Purell is for.
(This goes out to all my friends who are expecting their first baby.)
If you have to go to the grocery store because you're out of milk, see if you can have a neighbor or someone watch your baby for like ten minutes. My husband is out of town so I went by myself, which I have done many times with Rylee tagging along. The problem is that this time I had to use the restroom the second I walked into Target. Again, no big deal, but you can not bring a cart, which your child can sit in, into the restroom. I didn't have her carrier with me because she's just too big for it in a shopping cart. She loves to sit up and look at all the happenings. So, what do you do when you HAVE to go to the bathroom and you HAVE to carry your baby? Why you just hold her in your lap while you go, you say. Oh no no no, my friend, not when they have freakish leg and arm strength and are oh so squirmy. You can't hang the baby on the hook by there onesie, c'mon, I'm not trying to out do Brittney Spears here. Setting the baby on the floor is really the only option. Do you lay down one of those paper toilet seat covers? Nope, baby will tear and put in mouth. Lay down a bunch of toilet paper for baby to sit on? Nope, baby will tear and put in mouth. You hopefully have brought your diaper bag with you. In that diaper bag you hopefully have a travel diaper changer pad thingy and a toy. Set baby on thingy and give toy to occupy baby. Refer to nights out drinking with friends and pee like you were about to miss your night in shining armor if you were in the bathroom a second longer. Proceed to pick baby up, do not leave on floor to wash hands, this is what Purell is for. Scurry out of bathroom with minimal shame and hope no one saw your baby on the floor. Shop quickly, leave, and give baby a bath when you get home. Chances of anything actually happening to baby in those 10 seconds are minimal, but the bath helps you regain your dignity. Tell friends story as cautionary tale.
That’s what Purell is for.
(This goes out to all my friends who are expecting their first baby.)
If you have to go to the grocery store because you're out of milk, see if you can have a neighbor or someone watch your baby for like ten minutes. My husband is out of town so I went by myself, which I have done many times with Rylee tagging along. The problem is that this time I had to use the restroom the second I walked into Target. Again, no big deal, but you can not bring a cart, which your child can sit in, into the restroom. I didn't have her carrier with me because she's just too big for it in a shopping cart. She loves to sit up and look at all the happenings. So, what do you do when you HAVE to go to the bathroom and you HAVE to carry your baby? Why you just hold her in your lap while you go, you say. Oh no no no, my friend, not when they have freakish leg and arm strength and are oh so squirmy. You can't hang the baby on the hook by there onesie, c'mon, I'm not trying to out do Brittney Spears here. Setting the baby on the floor is really the only option. Do you lay down one of those paper toilet seat covers? Nope, baby will tear and put in mouth. Lay down a bunch of toilet paper for baby to sit on? Nope, baby will tear and put in mouth. You hopefully have brought your diaper bag with you. In that diaper bag you hopefully have a travel diaper changer pad thingy and a toy. Set baby on thingy and give toy to occupy baby. Refer to nights out drinking with friends and pee like you were about to miss your night in shining armor if you were in the bathroom a second longer. Proceed to pick baby up, do not leave on floor to wash hands, this is what Purell is for. Scurry out of bathroom with minimal shame and hope no one saw your baby on the floor. Shop quickly, leave, and give baby a bath when you get home. Chances of anything actually happening to baby in those 10 seconds are minimal, but the bath helps you regain your dignity. Tell friends story as cautionary tale.
Two for One
So I needed to get my new (new to me that is) VW Jetta inspected so I could register it. I went to the Kwik Kar and handed over my keys. As I waited in the "lounge" a little old lady came in and sat down across from me. She immediately struck up a conversation about the hours of operation. We agreed they needed to be open earlier. She then proceeded to offer me a "sandwich" from Jack in the Box. It was a sausage and egg biscuit and they were two for one that morning. I was hungry and I was taking my lunch break to get the car taken care of. I knew I'd be pressed for time to grab lunch so I happily accepted her generous offer. I couldn't believe how nice this stranger was being to me. She said her name was Barbara. Then another little old lady walked in, no, actually she shuffled in. She was dressed to the nines as little old ladies often do no matter where they are going. She had a wee bit o' red lipstick on her front teeth. I was going to let her know this but she was talking up a storm with the other little old lady right away and I just didn't want to interrupt. They were carrying on a conversation about two different subjects, I'm not sure how, but they were. I found out how many grandchildren they each had, whose husband had passed away, how long they had lived in the area, what they used to do for a living, and their views on the senior citizen discount. All this information came at me within a matter of five minutes. I finished my biscuit while delighting in the ping-pong of history that passed back and forth in front of me. My car was finished and I had to return to the drab gray world of cubicles. I thanked Barbara for my biscuit and wished them both a lovely day. It's anecdotes like this that need to be shared to remind us the world isn't as awful as the news can make it out to be.
Waiting for Justin.
Friends keep asking me if I like being a mom. I don't know how to answer that sometimes. With some people I just say yes and get it over with. With people that know me well, I have to be honest and say, well, it's no picnic. It's so much responsibility. A little helpless person always needs you. They literally would die if you didn't take care of them. It can be overwhelming. This last week my little person has had a cold. Talk about exhausting. She cries so much more because she's uncomfortable. She doesn't know how to blow her nose and she can't say pass the Nyquil. How would you like it if someone keep sticking a funny piece of blue rubber up your nose and sucking boogies out? When you don't have words to say, "Hey crazy lady, stop doing that!" you'd be crying a lot too. So if being a mom means having to torture someone's nose, no, I don't like being a mom. Now if it means you are the only one who can comfort those miserable moments away, then yes, I love being a mom. I have never felt more like a mom than this last week while Rylee has been sick. When you're sick you just want your mommy. Now I'm the mommy and I can feel that she wants my attention and love. I know I'm in love with my daughter now because when I'm leaving work and on my way to pick her up I can't wait to see her, boogies and all. In the midst of having a cold she smiles after I've put away the scary blue rubber thing and calmed her down. It's kind of like opening that present you were really hoping to get Christmas morning but didn't think you'd get. It's awesome. The smile part, not the boogies.
Now, I will say after having a baby your body is just not normal. I want women (and men) out there to know the truth about having a baby. I'll say it again; it's not all sunshine and lollipops. There is so much gas involved in this process. It's coming from you, it's coming from the baby, it's costing a fortune to put it in your car, and you wish you could take it from you and your baby to put in your car. At some point you stop and realize that no one says anything to you when you hold your baby up and stick your nose right next to their butt to see if you smell a poo-filled diaper. You're doing this in public and it's socially acceptable. The saddest moment I've had was last Saturday when I found myself clipping coupons and getting really excited about the deals I was finding. I had to laugh because if I didn't I would have cried. Gone are the days of going to a movie at nine o'clock at night. The drinks and bad decisions until the wee hours of the morning stopped long ago. Now I look forward to grocery shopping alone at Wal-Mart because it's the only moment I get to myself sometimes. Today I'm sick, Rylee gave me her cold, and even though my body aches and swallowing is an all around bad idea, it's nice to be alone in the house. I am just trying to avoid a mirror because I'm scary and starting to wonder when or if my sexy will come back. Justin Timberlake says he's brought it back, but he hasn't shown up at my door yet.
Friday, April 27, 2007
(This was written in response to my mom, Elizabeth (Betsy), worrying over how she was going to handle being a good grandma when she lived so far away.
How to cut it as a grandma:
1. Own funny-smelling face cream.
2. Keep stale butterscotch candy and the bottom of your purse, the more lint covered the better.
3. Ask, "What kind of music is that?"
4. Shake nervously when asked to operate any technology.
5. Refer to the good old days frequently. Sometimes this might be referencing the previous week.
6. Don't let a conversation go by without mentioning a body part that aches.
7. Don't let a conversation go by without mentioning how cold you are, even if you are visiting Texas in July.
8. Serve ice cream or brownies for breakfast.
9. Improperly mix Kool-Aid by leaving out the sugar.
10. Have perfume tray on dresser.
11. Own one perfume that is not in production anymore.
12. Your favorite shows have to be "Murder She Wrote" and "Matlock." Angela Lansbury is your hero.
13. You better know how to knit.
14. Your clothes can't match when you are in public.
15. Your sunglasses have to be bigger than your head.
16. When saying hello or goodbye to your grandchild you have to hug them until they are embarrassed.
17. You must own and display at least one creepy painting in a prominent place in your home. This must achieve the proper level of creepy so as to burn the image on your grandchild's brain for life.
18. All birthday cards and or presents must arrive on time no matter how tacky they are. A five dollar check may be sent to your grandchild for their birthday until the day you can't remember your name, or you write the check to the local grocery store.
19. You are not required to pinch cheeks when you see your grandchild.
20. You are required to love them the best way you know how.
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