Catching Up

I found this draft sitting, unfinished, on my Blogger dashboard today.  Let's give it a whirl, shall we?
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November 7, 2009


As I blow the dust off my blog and reacquaint myself with my Blogger dashboard, I reflect on my life as of late. It would be very easy for me to rant and whine here...but that is not what I want my blog to become. So, I've been silent. I've been mothering my babies, problem-solving, and working my tail off. I've been turning over new leaves and looking into the future with fear-tinged hope. I've been reflecting on what is important in life, much like my fellow blogger and Tweep, Jenn.

Like many families recently, Jenn's family has been making changes. So has mine. Sometimes, life blows up in your face, you know? So, what do you do about it? The way I see it, like anything in life, you have two things to do: (1) deal with it, and (2) move on. I try not to get mad in life. I'm learning as I age that anger really doesn't do much for me....or you....or anyone. This is not to say, though, that if you hurt my baby or my doggie that I won't go all raging maniacal mother hen on you. Because I will. Hide and watch. But,what anger does do is waste energy and bring pain and suffering, mostly to the bearer. But that' s another post...

So, while FireDaddy and I try to catch up financially, and I try to get caught up mentally, and my girls try to get caught up physically (they've both been sick), and we as a family try to get caught up with our priorities, we're making changes. We're eating at home. We're playing in our yard and our park. We're using Netflix every week. And, I'm avoiding Target like the plague.

The holidays are quickly approaching, though. And the money just isn't going to be there. So, we're getting creative.

Yesterday, my girls and I spent the entire morning making Christmas cards. And, quite frankly, I think they're the best ever. They aren't finished yet (typical Mommy - I forgot some supplies at school), but I love them. No two are alike and many were made by the innocent hands of my babies. Even many of the ones from my hands alone, though, have a special meaning.

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Since that weekend, I've been busy stitching and gluing and clipping Joann's and Michael's coupons like a mad woman.  As with most things in my life, it's become a bit of an obsession.  Etsy is an evil, evil place. ;) Its creativity haunts my mind and compels me to do, make, sew, create.  

Have you ever realized that you - who you are - is really a lot of people rolled into one?  There's the Main You - the one you take to work and the grocery store on a day-to-day basis, but there's also the Little You from your childhood that wants your mama when you're sick and misses home at the holidays.  Inside ourselves, though, we all carry a rainbow of other "selves".  I, for instance, have the Fashion Designer - a former fashion major who cringes at wearing the same outfit twice.  The Interior Decorator who aspires to possess and wield my grandmother's flare for bold, courageous design, tempered by my mother's eye for designing with function, practicality and mass appeal in mind.  The Starlette, who dreams still of soaking up the hot lights of the stage "when I grow up".  The Girlie Girl, who looks forward to playing dress-up and turning cartwheels in the backyard with my girls.  I love sharing my inner Auntie Mame each year as I dawn my glorious, glamorous black and white large-brimmed hat to watch the derbies in my den.  And, of course, you know there's more...the Writer, the Artist, the Activist and Advocate.  I am a Southern Belle, a Baby Mommy, and a Clutz.

The bottom line is, I guess my Blogger has taken a step to the side to allow my other selves a chance to see the light of day for a while.  And it's been kind of nice.  But, she's still here...and so am I.

One of My Newest Faves

I remember being a child and going with my grandmother to this really eclectic little store in town where you could get things like white restaurant dishes and papazan chairs and cheap glassware and floor pillows and neat little oriental boxes. You may have heard of the store, I think it was called "Pier 1".

Yeppers...the cheap Pier 1 of my childhood is now extinct. R.I.P., baby. Don't get me wrong, Pier 1 still has great stuff to drool over; over the years, they've expanded their merchandise to include upholstered pieces and extremely overpriced...well, everything. I love to window shop there - but rarely ever make a purchase anymore.

However, this summer I've fallen in love with, what I consider to be, today's version of yesterday's Pier One -- WORLD MARKET. That's not to say that they don't have some hijacked prices from time to time, but they still have an awful lot of sweet deals that I just LOVE to snatch up!

For instance, I just love my new pot holders. (Oh my goodness, I've resorted to blogging about pot holders...what does this say about me?) They're cute and, as I described them to Big Girl, happy.

I also have become addicted to my pumice sponge. It's just like the ones the girls at the nail salon use when I get a pedicure! Now I can give myself a not-nearly-as-relaxing-or-graceful shower pedicure!

World Market also sells one of my favorite wines. This is the only place I've seen this label...but that doesn't really mean THAT much, considering I don't shop for wine in very many places. (If it isn't on my beaten path, chances are I won't get there.) The first bottle of this wine I bought was a very thoughtful decision, like all that I make. I liked the bottle. It was purty. And it comes

in a variety of different designs! Fortunately, the wine inside has lived up to the bottle's reputation.

I also adore the refreshing lemon and sage kitchen soap and lotion set I scored. (Really, Jenny? This post might be an all-time low -- adoring soap?) Its light, fresh scent is a perfect match for the clean, soft feel it leaves on my hands after I wash my hands 500 times (a little compulsively, I admit) throughout the course of preparing a meal for my family. I've also, at times, found myself walking past the sink in the guest bathroom to wash my hands in the kitchen because I prefer this soap! (Which really is not as unsanitary as it seems, folks. I leave the door open when there's no company at home, don't you?)

And, I have to be honest, I'm not the only one who loves World Market in this house. Big Girl has developed a passion for this shopping wonderland, also. Her favorite item? Fruit Stripe gum. Which I find especially amusing since this was one of my childhood favorites, too.

I could go on to tell you lots of other reasons for my newest love affair - like the great tote bag I got for FREE (no purchase necessary) to celebrate the start of "Discovery Days", or the FREE Fandango movie ticket I got with my purchase this week...but I think I've said enough.

This is getting embarrassing.

And so it begins...

As the mother of two daughters, a mother who was (admittedly) guilty of putting her parents through a lot of stress (to put it in such a way that preserves a little of my integrity) between the ages of 12 and 20, I am not looking forward to my own daughters' entrance into their teenage years.  Heck.  I'm not even looking forward to their entrance into their tweens.  Or even 3rd grade.    

This weekend, an innocent trip to shop for Easter basket stuffings (in stealth mode, since Fire Daddy was working and it was just me and the girls) was corrupted.  My darling Big Girl made her first attempt at...shoplifting.  

It pains me to even say that.  I am still in shock and depressed over the entire event.

It all went down like this.  

We had just enjoyed a lovely hour at the park amidst groves of Easter shoppers and families leisuring in the beautiful sunshiny, breezy spring air.  The green grass made an excellent stage on which my little ballerinas danced as smooth music seeped from Bose speakers concealed in the landscaping.  Childhood innocence oozed from their pores.  

A mama duck kindly allowed us to gaze adoringly at her nine little babies swimming in the man-made brook.  Dozens of koi swam lazily as parents reminded their little ones not to get too close to the edge.  Turtles basked on their nature-made Adirondacks.  They took turns enjoying the time-honored front position on the jaguar statue before sweetly hugging and kissing it good-bye.

Once the time came to begin our journey back to the car, I decided to make one last side trip into Claire's to check out the glittery, girly odds-n-ends.  The Easter bunny is trying to diet this year; he tried to avoid the candy aisles.  My girls were in heaven!  Every little trinket, necklace, zippered-pack of lip gloss, piece of fake hair, and pair of sunglasses was inspected carefully.  While they were engrossed in their own exploration of the store, Mommy forged an alliance with the sales girl and set up Operation Stuff the Bunny Basket.  

As I meandered with my girls, oooohing and aaaahing at all their gorgeous findings, carefully prying the makeup and breakables from the Littlest Princess's eager fingers, I occasionally stashed a few basket-worthy items in the designated holding place near the register, where it would await covert payment at a later time.  

There was a moment when a particular cutsie key chain seemed to take Big Girl's fancy.  I paid it the appropriate amount of attention and gently reminded her that we were only looking, no buying.  She seemed disappointed, but dutifully returned it to the display.

Or so I thought.

After settling the tab with my accomplice at the register, I crammed the tell-tale Claire's bag into my Bath & Body Works shopping bag as low as possible, I began to round up my little darlings for our departure.  Little did I know that separating the twin poodles in their purple carrying purse from Little Girl would NOT be the hard part.  

We were headed towards the exit.  As I glanced over my shoulder to be sure Big Girl was with me, I noticed how curiously she was holding her hand in her shorts pocket.  I also could not miss the guilty look on her face.  

"What's in your pocket?"  

She froze.  Eyes quickly averted all contact with mine; aimed, instead, for the floor.  I could see her tiny fingers clinch inside her khaki pocket.  

Crap.  Now what?

Holding Little Girl and my own bag of goods that, ironically, I too was sneaking - though COMPLETELY LEGALLY, I knelt to talk to my girl.  

"Baby, what do you have in your pocket.  I need to know.  I won't get mad, just show me."

I can actually interject here and tell you I kept my word and I never got mad.  Even today, I'm not mad.  I do, however, completely understand the meaning of "disappointment".

After she regained control of her limbs (apparently she experienced a mild, yet temporary, case of paralysis), her hand revealed a slightly used pencil-top eraser.  

"Well, baby, that's just an eraser from home.  That's nothing to hide."

Uh-oh.  She's still not looking at me.  There's more.

"What else is in your pocket?  Show me."

At this time, she reluctantly produced that oh-so cutsie key chain that she had pointed out earlier.

So...you're wondering what I did?  

I still don't know if it was right or wrong, but I calmly and patiently told her it was wrong, we cannot do that, returned the item to its place in the store and left.  

Once we arrived at the car, THE TALK commenced.  

As I left it with her, this was her ONCE IN A LIFETIME FREEBIE.  We discussed it.  She knows it was wrong.  I tried to scare her with the police stuff.  It's over.  I'm expecting that she will NEVER EVER try it again, right?

...Oh, and I immediately texted Fire Daddy.  Who, in turn, immediately phoned me back - frantic I think that someone was arrested.  (His first words were, "Who caught her?  Them or you?")

Fire Daddy talked to her more today about The Incident....without me around.  TO HIM she admitted to knowing it was wrong before doing it.  TO HIM she admitted to wanting it really badly.  TO HIM she admitted that "Mommy said we weren't going to get it." 

And, so, the ending changes.  Now, there's a new angle to this crime.  Now, there are different consequences.

So, we're in the midst of our first RESTRICTION.  (She said something about being "grounded" if there was ever a next time.  When we explained that being grounded, for someone her age, meant NOTHING because, "You don't go anywhere."  She replied, "Yes, I do!  I go to school!"  HA!  I'm not fallin' for THAT one, Little Missy!)

As my mother said, I'm sure she won't become a hardened criminal anytime soon...or even in the distant future.  However, right now, this is a very hard thing for me to swallow.  

Now, I'm REALLY not looking forward to their teenage years...and my own payback.  

Welcome to parenthood, Jenny.  Ain't life grand?

Love-Hate Relationships

I have learned that my life is filled with love-hate relationships. Dang it! There is nothing more frustrating!

For instance, I HATE to go to the gym. Yet, I love it. When I haven't been in a while, I dread it like a trip to the OB/GYN. However, when I'm in a groove, it can be invigorating and uplifting. WHY THE HEE-HAW CAN'T I GET THROUGH THESE SLUMPS, THEN??? Am I really that short-sighted? Do I have memory issues that prevent me from remembering the high of endorphins flooding my bloodstream?

Perhaps that memory condition is the same memory condition that makes me consider, one day, having a third child. As I watch friends and relatives blossom with child, planning for their own blessed events that will soon change their lives forever, I reflect on my own pregnancies and start to daydream about another baby. WHAT AM I THINKING??? I guess my memory must be failing me again. Don't I remember how my body felt as it buckled under the pressure of my little miracle? Have I forgotten my own post-partum insanity so quickly?

On that note, I recall my shopping trip to Target yesterday. OH. MY. GOD. Have you ever wanted to be Elizabeth Montgomery and wiggle your nose to make something, or someone (perhaps yourself) disappear? I love my children. They are, I promise, the light of my life...and all that stuff. Yesterday, though? I was ready to be rid of (at least) one of them!

I was in a completely LAZY mood. (I attribute this to my recent avoidance of exercise. Currently, I'm completely submerged in "fat and lazy" mode.) I didn't even want to get dressed. However, my darling Baby had run out of diapers. Poop! (Pun intended.)

After approximately 30 minutes of necessary preparations required for any dash away from home on a cold day (sweaters, jackets, sippy cups, emergency snacks, blankies, pacie and books), we were finally off. We made it to Target and the trip went downhill from the moment we were in the door.

Any normal folk can just saunter into a store, grab a cart or basket and they're off. Not us. My girlies have to have a "train". (This is their pet name for the Big-Mama-Daddy-People-Pusher/shopping cart. You know, the one with the enormous red plastic two-seater platform attached behind the cart? The one that is next to impossible to push when its empty, much less loaded down with kids and goods?) Fine. We'll get a train, I reluctantly agreed, hoping this would buy me some peace and quiet.

Uh-oh. No trains on side number one. "No problem. Mommy has to return something, so we'll check at the other door." After making my returns, I was disappointed (yet, not surprised) to find that there were no "trains" at this entrance, either.

Fortunately, my eldest was perfectly content to ride in a regular cart. She's really getting too big for this, so she rides in the bottom of the basket. I am aware this is not the safest option, but, as the oldest, she is generally a very obedient child and not at risk of bailing out unexpectedly. My youngest, however, is a completely different story.

"No! I no want to ride! I want free ride!"

"Free ride" is an old family term for being carried by Mommy or Daddy. No slings or carriers will do, either. It is ONLY the real deal.

"Baby, you're too heavy! Mommy can't carry you! You can walk or ride." My attempts to persuade her to conform were in vain. She's freakin' stubborn. So, I tried to be sly. I carried her in front of me, resting her bottom on the top of the basket. This did not go unnoticed. She would scream, tightening her death grip around my neck and straightening her body so she slid off the cart.

I, calmly and lovingly, would explain to her (again) that this was not safe. She is too heavy to be carried throughout the store. I'd present the options over and over again, wasting my breath.

Now, fast forward to about...oh...6 minutes later. I'm breaking down and beginning to resort to threats. I've learned that time out may work at home, but in public it is nearly impossible to enforce. However, Daddy had some luck (relatively speaking) with spanking lately...dare I threaten this? What the heck! It can't get any worse, right?

So, I put it on the table and she -- why was I surprised? -- CHOSE THE SPANKING!!! She called my bluff!!! I quickly realize that there is NO WAY I am going to haul off and pop her a good one right in the middle of Target. Not wanting to back down (yet), I start to make my way to the family restroom. I could get her in there and issue the punishment.

I chickened out. I circled around and decided to go home. Through the checkout I would go and this nightmare would be over.

Enter Princess Number One. I had promised her a treat for being so good. (She really was being remarkably good. Not only was she minding me, but she was attempting to help persuade her sister to mind, too!) Crap. On to the cereal aisle for a little snack-sized bowl of Fruit Loops. On the way, I decided to crack open a can of teacher talk.

"Thank you SO MUCH for being such a good little girl today. Mommy is SO proud of you. I LOVE the way you're SITTING ON YOUR BOTTOM and riding so nicely! You deserve a special treat for your behavior!!! What would you like, honey? Some Fruit Loops?" Of course, IMMEDIATELY, Little Sister pipes up.

"Mommy? I want Fuit Woops. I want wide in de caht."

I felt low. I felt like a sucker and a doof...but I took what I could get. Into the cart she went and I zipped around the store, quickly gathering the items on my list.

Crisis averted, right? WRONG.

The tasty diversion worked for a while, until Baby decided she was finished. Fortunately, she remained content to ride...but she was now charged with sugar. Lord, have mercy. There were Fruit Loops flying all over that store! Squeals and screams, of joy, mind you, filled the store! I spent my shopping time scooping cereal from the floor each time she accidentally tipped the bowl. Sorry, Target, for the ones crushed under the wheels of the Cart O'Giggles. I left my broom and dustpan at home.

I love my daughters dearly, especially my Baby. But, I HATE shopping with them, especially my Baby.