Bicycle, Bicycle...

"You're jumping back into the work force after staying home for 20 years with your kids? No problem, it's..."

"You're getting back into the dating scene?  No worries, it's..."

"Seriously? No mojo for 3 years?  *giggles* well it's just..."

LIKE RIDING A BIKE.

I'm convinced that these people have never ridden a bike.  Because if they had actually sat their 182 pound butt on one of those thong style seats after 20 long years of being a non-cyclist, they'd know better than to say that.  None the less, when I found myself with an unexpected day off, 61 degree weather in November, and no children, I decided it was time to try out my new best-est birthday gift ever.  

As with all great journeys, the first step is always the hardest.

Removing the tags.

Really?  It's a bike people.  Do I really need four bags full of tags, instructions, and warranty information?  Oh, and lest not forget the one in the wheel, on the front tire, and the little "L" and "R" stickers on the pedals. 

Mkay, moving on.

I cram the bike into the back of my station wagon, catching my finger, and cussing under my breath pack up my pretty new bike into the car, and head for our local bike trail...

Fourteen miles of nothing but smooth paved road.  Yip, there's an occasional jogger and other cyclists, but this time of year it's pretty much open road along the ocean.  Which is good, because as I may have mentioned, it's been twenty years, and my sole purpose was to avoid anyone seeing me fall on my well padded butt.  Upon parking I did notice that EMS were standing by in case of any unforeseen, unmentionable event....

So here I go, steadily walking the new bike down to the path, taking care to note my surroundings.  You know, things like, there's no guardrails, so it may be best to avoid the rocks...

And avoid the puddles from last night's rain, so as to not get that lovely splash effect going up my backside.  Then of course there's the highly distracting view....

Cell phone to call for help, check.

Ear buds for music, check. 

Car keys, check. 

And... we're off. 

Pedal 16 feet. 

Get off the bike to adjust the seat. 

Pedal another 20 feet.  Adjust the seat again. 

Do this 3 more times.

Then start messing with the gear shifters.  Why in God's name do I need 21 speeds anyway?  This is not the Tour De France, and I so do not look good in yellow. 

And I'm off again...

wind in my hair, hair in my mouth, Whoa... that's a bug.  Gross.

I get about a mile down the path and realize that the wind is coming directly at me.  The 20mph wind.  No wonder I'm having such a hard time getting anywhere. 

So I turn around.

Much better.

Moving along... wind at my back, angry birds at my front. 

It was like a stand off with the seagulls.  At one point, there was a narrowly avoided air attack, dive bombs included.  Unfazed, I continue on to the end of the path. If you look really close, off in the distance you can see the light house at the point.

And then it hits me, I have to pedal back into the wind.

Did I mention it's a 20 mph wind.  Yes? 

Whipping off the water? Mm mm, good times.

It took a while, but I made it back to the car.  I managed to avoid all the yucky crustaceans along the path (The seagulls drop them to split them open of the pavement), getting hit by the park ranger truck, and falling down, rendering myself unconscious on the rocks.  Upon arrival, I notified EMS that while their services were appreciated, they would not be necessary today.  Because after all, I am now a professional cyclist.  They smiled back at me, but I think they were really just hoping the crazy lady would leave them alone. All and all, my only complaint was the permanent bruises I will have on my butt bones from the seat. Note to self: look into a seat for fat people, preferably will gel inserts.

7 miles.

And you know what?

It was just like riding a bike.

This Little Tree Of Ours...

When I was a kid I dreamed of having an 8 foot Christmas tree, donned with ribbon, lights, and hand strung popcorn and cranberry garland.  A tree so large that I'd need a ladder to reach the top for the angel.  When I moved into my first apartment, the Boston brownstone, we had 10 foot ceilings, but no floor space.  In Florida, I had tons of floor space, but normal ceilings.  Back in Massachusetts, we had little children who would inevitably pull down the tree and break every ornament on it, and then try and eat the pieces.

Needless to say, I've had every tree, live and fake, in every size, shape, and color imaginable.

I've even had a felt wall hanging of a tree, with Velcro garland, and felt ornaments that the kids could stick on and off as many times as they'd like.

Last year, I settled on this tree...

It's not so much short, as it is skinny. 
It fits perfectly in the corner by the mantle and the TV.  It doesn't block the heating vents, I don't have to water it, and even better, the cat doesn't climb it. 

Every year we bust out the decorations, and every year I am too lazy to make the popcorn and cranberry garland.  Some years, we put the angel on top.  Some years we've opted for the standard "Eat At Joe's" blinking star.  This year, we opted for a ribbon bow and streamers.  The actual setting up of the tree in years past was quite simply, that.  Setting up the tree for the kids, secretly counting the days when it would come down and I could regain my precious floor space once again.

But this year it was different. 

Youngest and I picked through the ornaments, a collection of photos of Christmas's gone by and places we've been, and discovered the stories behind each one.

Like the one I bought in a vintage store my first year away in college.  It's porcelain, and I'm amazed it's survived the past 19 years, 14 moves, 1200 miles away and back again.

Or, the one my mom bought me when I bought my first house.  It plugs in and lights up through the windows.

Youngest at two days old.  He was so small I could fit him in an Easter basket.

Then there was the year I had the brilliant idea to get professional photos done of Oldest.  This is the only one that came out.  It was free because the girl forgot to set up the camera  properly for the session and NONE of the pictures came out. The entire two hours spent was wasted, except fro the fact that this is still one of my favorite pictures of him.

The ornaments from our travels all seem to mix together on the tree.  The ball is from the Bureau of Imprinting in Washington DC.  It has actual shredded money in it.  The gnome is from the Spy museum, the sand dollar from Martha's Vineyard, and somewhere hidden is a NYC cabbie and Santa on the Empire State building.  The only trip we have no memento from is Disney, and try as I might on EBay, I just can't find that perfect set of Mickey ears ornament from 2007.

This is one of the only pictures I have of the boys on Santa's lap.  Normally they wanted no part of it, EVER.  Can you blame them?  Come here little boy, sit on my lap and whisper in my ear... really the whole thing's just creepy.  Just behind them is a hand painted snow baby.  My grandmother made me a set of 12 before she died.  I have many hand made ornaments on the tree.  Many have fallen apart or met an untimely demise via the cat.  Others have been deemed too flammable and get set aside for the refrigerator or windows.  But these guys....

Are still some of my favorites.  The boys made them a few years back at their grandmother's house.  Some have long necks, some short. Some have no neck at all. But they are all adorable.

So many memories, one at a time put in just the right spot according to Youngest and his stellar decorating techniques.  Tony added his touches so there would be some ornaments on the top as well. As I sat back and looked at it, I realized that all these years I thought my kids had missed out on something.  My working all the time, our limited finances, my excessive tiredness, I felt as though I hadn't given them enough memories.

But in fact, that just what I had done.

And I have the tree to prove it.

Weekend Review...

For much of the country this is a Holiday weekend.  Five blissful days of stress free, work less days, devoted solely to being happy for what you have, and indulging in countless sinful selections of pies and desserts all while doped up on large amounts of turkey induced tryptophan.

And for me, Thursday was spent doing just this.  But as the mail must go through regardless of how good Mom's turkey soup may be, I was off to work.  Some years the day after Thanksgiving is really bad, other's not so much.  It is after all, the day after a holiday so the mail is inevitably double.  However, this is usually offset by the lack of employees necessary to get it to us, therefore resulting in a semi normal day.  This year, however, the Postal powers that be determined there was tons of over time to be had and slammed us with mail volume.

I worked a ten hour day. That would be a ten hours, straight through with no lunch, no pee breaks, fueled only by a two day past expiration yogurt that I had eaten at 6 am. I did actually make it off the road by 4pm, only to have my supervisor send me back out.... in the dark... to help another carrier that wasn't going to make it back before the truck went out that night.  My issue with this?  She had said she needed help before she left the office, and they said NO.  Did I mention the best part?  I had to pay a sitter for the day.  So after taxes, and blah blah blah, I made like $10.

Today, I  went to work thinking it could not possibly get any worse than yesterday.  Wrong.  I had to carry all the same mail that I had carried before because the person who ran that route on Friday didn't realize that the mail he left behind was 2nd class.  Really?  You've only been in the PO for 3 years... save it buddy, I'm not buying.  Off I go, this time fueled by a cheese stick and a wild berry smoothie, with yesterday's mail, today's newspapers, coupons, and a flier dated for Monday.  Why?  Because I'm awesome... and a bit sadistic,  but mostly, because it's my job.  Nine hours later, I was too tired to complain or even be angry.

I came home to my new back door which looks beautiful, and settled in for a nice quiet night.  Around 7pm Youngest said he had a migraine and went to bed.  Bonus, right?  Nope.  About an hour later he was calling me, all upset, from his bed.

Nothing challenges a mother's love like Tuna puke.

It's something special let me tell you.

Needless to say, tomorrow will be spent inhaling large amounts of movie popcorn.

Swedish style.......



So, how was your weekend?

Truth Is Thursday...

Truth is... I've been in quite a mess lately.

Truth is... The roofer came on Monday, ripped off and replaced the roof, ran out, and had to come back on Tuesday.  Tuesday night it poured... and none of it was in my kitchen, or in my walls.

Truth is... Basketball season has started for both of the boys which means we'll be busier than ever after 6pm weeknights.  Tony has decided to be the assistant coach of Youngest's team.  This means that I'll see him even less and that every conversation around the kitchen table will involve lay ups, hypothetical plays, muscle memory, and strategy.  It also means that he's taking an interest in the boys activities, supporting them, being a positive role model for them, and giving me a much needed 1.5 hours of time at night to get other things done.

Truth is... the back door of my house is 75 years old, custom sized, and wood.  It has duct tape over the cracks to keep the bugs out.  Saturday my Dad and Tony are re-framing and installing a new larger fiberglass door with keypad entry.

Truth is... work has been crazy.  Really crazy.  I am sore.  I am tired.  I am employed. My paycheck will pay the mortgage, put food in our bellies, and heat our home.

Truth is... We've been running back and forth to the mechanics all week with both cars.  Both were minor fixes, and despite the inconvenience, we still have two functioning cars.

Truth is... today is Thanksgiving,

....and I've never been so happy to be in the beautiful mess that I'm in.

(No linky thing this week, but feel free to participate and include your link in the comments)

Beauty And The Beast....

Behold the fair maiden...

She looks happy now, but in her castle lurks a deep dark secret.  There is a beast living down there, feeding off her wallet good will and treacherously guarding some precious secretive square footage territory.  But, never fear, this maiden has a plan. 

First, she must locate a handsome knight, minus the amour...

Next, she must convince him that defeating the beast will guarantee him rule of the new territory, bat her eyelashes, and promise to leave him in forvever indebted to her graces for years to come.  Once she has conned him into he has agreed to his quest, he must locate the beast, deep in the bowels of the fortress...

Then, whilst the Beast lays sleeping and unsuspecting it's demise, he donns his crappiest best sweats amour he wields his mighty saws-all sword. He frees it's claws from the walls it was feeding off for over 75 years.  With a mighty shove from his bulging biceps and thankfully not throwing out his back he banishes it to the deepest darkest part of her dungeon, for months on end hoping Beauty forgets all about it.   Broken from weeks of solitary confinement, the beast surrenders and Beauty is left to drain it's blood, drip by drip.  She let the blood steep, releasing all it's poisons and hazardous aromas into the air, until she can convince her neighbor she needs 45 gallons of heating oil, prepare the body.  There the Beast sits, an empty carcass of what it once was.

Working in pairs, the ancient ritual begins.  Similar to cow tipping Beauty pushes the body over and her Knight breaks off it's legs with one swift turn of the wrench move....

Now smaller and able to fit through the basement dungeon door, they argue over work together to determine the quickest way to vacate him from the premises.  He They decide on brute force, and push and shove the broken carcass out into the fresh air.  The sunlight and weather exposure start decaying the body almost immediately.  Left sitting in the lesser traveled parts of the forest, it is time to disembowel the Beast and see what's left inside. Already dead and no longer a threat to explode into flames her, Beauty wields the saws-all sword and with three additional backup swords, the Beast is cut....

Leaving it's insides exposed...

The dismembering process screeches to a halt as the sword begins to smoke from the heat of the still not quite dead Beast.  Two days pass as she waits for it's oil sludge guts to settle.  Just before dark, she finises the cut, removes the top and reveals the entrails of the Beast that robbed her of so much money every winter.  She begins to scrape out it's insides, packaging it neatly for disposal.  She tucks it away for the hazardous waste day special transit out of her kingdom. She knows, there is only one thing left to do.

They get the sticks...

They get the matches...

Weenie anyone?

Seriously Fragmented...

What time is it? 

It's time to fragment my brain. 

Click the button to visit Mrs. 4444, and fragment yourself as well. 

Really, you'll feel better.

~~~~~~

Both kids are supposed to be going to their father's this weekend for their visit.  That gives me exactly 3.5 hours to squeeze in the new Twilight movie.  And, a whole bucket of popcorn.  Fingers crossed!

~~~~~~

I am so tired of Sarah Palin.  Doesn't she have something to do, like look at out her kitchen window or something? Really, she needs a full time job.

~~~~~

I just discovered Thundercats is still on TV.  It's a bit pathetic that I was so excited about this.  Even more so when Oldest decided he'd rather watch the Disney channel.  Evidently around here, it's now "Thundercats...NO!"

~~~~~

The chore chips are working out so well I'm thinking about bonus "Dealer Chips" for extra big tasks.  Yip.  I'm totally riding this wave.  I haven't touched the litter box in a week.

~~~~~

Youngest's blog writing experiment has blossomed into a blog for his entire class.  He thinks it's pretty cool, but wants to retain his original blog since he picked it all out himself.  He also likes the privacy of it, and I must admit, so do I.  Writing is an insecurity for him, and I know he'd rather not have everyone in class reading and commenting on it.

~~~~~~

So, provided the weather holds out, the roof's going on on Monday.  The backdoor will go in on Saturday.  At some point, we will start ripping out the walls of the sun room, removing the insulation, and  re-drywalling the walls.

I am so glad I decided against having Thanksgiving here.

~~~~~~

We're borrowing people from other offices this week to get us through the rough patch at work.  The other senior substitute carrier is out until December 1st.  I'm going in at 7 tomorrow.  Yeah.  It's gonna be a fun week.

~~~~~~

The outdoor Christmas decorations go up this weekend.  I'm actually feeling like I may need some new ones as well, so a trip to Target may be in order.  One thing is for sure, if it doesn't go up this weekend, it's not happening.  'Cuz baby, it's cold outside.

~~~~~~

OK.

 That seems to be all I have at the moment. 

Subject to change, at a seconds notice.

Thundercats....HOoooooo!

Coping With Loss ~ Blogfest For The Golden Sky

I agreed to participate in the blog fest over at Elisa's place to support her in her book launch,  The Golden Sky.   Click the button to learn more about Elisa, Cade and their family, their amazing son Zeke, and her struggle to continue on after he was taken from this Earth way too soon.



 The idea is simple.  Write a post about how you've coped with loss.  Simple right?  Not for me.  You see, I lost my paternal grandmother 7 years ago, then my grandfather 2 years ago.  Both lived in Florida, and while I loved them very much, they weren't part of my everyday.  I think of them often, but the loss I felt was not crippling.  Both were sick, and had lived well into their 80's.  They had had good, long, full lives.

Shortly after, I lost my maternal grandmother, and then suddenly, five months later lost my maternal grandfather.  The loss of my grandfather was difficult, but I felt the loss of my grandmother more, as she was very much a part of who I am.  Her passing was the catalyst for starting a blog, recording my everyday thoughts and experiences, so that one day when my time came, my children would really know who their mother was. 

Aside from that, I have had very few experiences with death.  In high school, the boy who sat in front of me in homeroom came to school drunk.  The administration was unable to be confine him to the school and when confronted, he left.  He proceeded to split his car in half via a telephone pole.  The line for the funeral service wrapped around the church and spilled out into the parking lot.  It was horribly sad, but aside for the empty seat in front of me in home room, my life went on as normal. 

About a month later, the boy who sat behind me was in a dirt bike accident. (It was a bad year for the "Fl..." through "Fo..." crowd.) He was paralyzed from the waist down.  I remember a lot of his friends being understandably upset, but what I remember most is one of the teachers saying, "I don't know why every one's so devastated.  It's not like he died."

But in fact, he did die. The person that he was before the accident no longer existed.  He had to redefine himself and adapt to no longer having the use of his legs.  He dealt with his loss, by selling his dirt bikes and buying an adapted Porsche.  He learned to depend on his friends, and his circle became very tight.  With his family vehemently behind him, failure was not an option.  His dreams of racing professional motor cross gave way to a BA at Northeastern College, and his determination and perseverance allowed for him to make a great new life for himself. Were there moments when he wanted to give up and drown himself in his loss?  Of course.  But he pushed through, knowing that he would be stronger on the other side.  And in some ways, doing so may have been harder than if the accident had killed him.

In many ways, we have all gone through this.  We have all felt great loss of one kind or another.  While I love my children more than life, it would be untruthful for me to say that I didn't mourn the loss, however briefly, of having easy children. Children with ASD do not conform to society or learn the conventional way.  And while that's my reality, I became a better, stronger person when I learned to redefine my ideas and see things through their eyes. Today, I have experienced so much more of an enriched and fulfilled experience as a  mother than I ever thought possible, because of the challenges that came from my absolutely perfect unperfect children.

In fact, I would say that in the last ten years, I have experienced more loss than in the rest of my lifetime.  When I married at 20, it was for forever.  Divorce was simply not an option. Then, the children came.  The pressures of real life changed my husband at the time into someone unrecognizable. Divorce quickly became the only option.  And with that, came the death of my hopes of having a traditional family, my ideas of all that could be, and all that never was.  I mourned my marriage as if it had died.  I went through all the seven stages of grief, each in my own way, and in my own time. It was as if everything I knew and wholeheartedly believed in ceased to exist, yet the ghost (of him) still walked the earth haunting me everyday.

I chose to focus on my children and my health. I thought that if I could be their everything, it could begin to compensate them for the burden of being part of a broken family. I got healthy, both in my body and in my mind.  I reinvented myself, and surrounded myself with only those people who would foster this new, stronger me. I journaled everyday often two and three times a day.  I found those journals a few years later, and I no longer recognized the woman who wrote them.  She was so sad, lonely, and undefined.  Shortly after, I threw them away, along with all the anger, disappointment, and loss held within the pages. 

I do remember that there was a  common phrase written within each entry.

"It will be better tomorrow."

And one day, it was.

Truth Is...

I know it's Tuesday.  I'm participating in a blog fest on Thursday for Elisa's release of her book The Golden Sky.  Click her name to go check out the details.

Truth is...  The chore chips are working well, but the kids are now fighting over who gets to do what.  Oldest even resorted to cleaning the litter box. :)

Truth is...  The roofer's coming on Thursday. 

Truth is... I'm just hoping the above statement isn't a lie.

Truth is... We are now in full swing of Christmas at the PO and it's making all of us cranky.  It's like this every year, but not usually this early.  I expect Tony and I won't be speaking by Thanksgiving.

Truth is... My yard looks like I've moved away.  Leaves and sticks everywhere, and don't even think about opening the garage.  I'm thinking a good clean up is in order.

Truth is... Goal for the week is to finish painting one more wall in the boy's room, finish my post on slaying the beast (I know you all are just dying of anticipation) and to get to the dump.

Truth is... the only free time I have to do this is from 9am to 12pm tomorrow. *sigh*

Truth is... it's your turn!  Feel free to link up now or on Thursday, or not at all.  Just post something damn it, so I won't think you've gone and fallen off the Earth.  It's happening to more and more of 'ya lately, and it's making me quite nervous.

Poker Anyone?

Lately I have had several genius moments. 

You know, those moments when you just stop and say, "Holy (insert favorite word here), that's GENIUS!"

Like the other day, when my friend was complaining that she hated having the litter box in the kitchen and she needed to get a kitty door for downstairs.  Wait. Whoa? Yes. A kitty door. So the cat could get into the unfinished area of the basement, do his business in his box, and return to patrolling the house.  No odor, no mess, and no gross out factor in the kitchen or bathroom.

I know....GENIUS!

Now, most of my genius moments happen as all genius moments do, in times of supreme irritation.  As was this next idea... chore chips.

I have said many times before that I don't believe in allowance.  I think there are just some things the kids should do because they are part of the family.  However, we do have other small jobs around the house that they can do for set amounts of money that make my life easier and give them the opportunity to make some extra cash.  Problem is, they always want to cash in when I am broke.  Or, they tell me they've done things and then I find out they didn't do them, or do them as often as they remembered.  

So, I took Tony's poker chips Shh, don't tell....

And then printed out some chores on return address labels...

Then I put the labels on the chips, with different colors representing the different values.  I took a razor and traced around the inner circle.  If you're super crafty and have a circle punch you could use that.  But I didn't have one, and really didn't care how perfect they came out...

Then I whipped out the hot glue gun and stuck a magnet on the back of each one.  If you're super organized you can pre-heat your glue gun while you're doing the label part.  But again, I'm not, so I threw in a load of laundry while I was waiting for it to heat up.  Then, I used two old frosting containers for each of the kids to collect their chips.  I cut holes in the top and labeled each one with their names.

Then I stuck all the chips on the side of the fridge....

....and explained the rules. When they do a chore, they tell us, and we put the chip in the container.  When I have money, I will replace the chip with the allotted amount of cash.  Then the chip goes back on the fridge for the next time.  There are an equal amount of chores for each, and all chores are up for grabs.

So there ya have it.

Chore chips.

Hopefully things will get done a bit easier around here.

Or, my boys will be well on their way to becoming professional gamblers.

Friday and Saturday....

Five years ago, on 11/11 Tony and I decided to see if we could turn our solid friendship, into a full on relationship for the third time.  As it turned out, clearly, the third time was the charm and here we are five years later, married.  One of the key pieces in our third attempt was our once a month date night.  Something that we have lost sight of over the last 6 months. 

Fully involved in the blur that is October, November, December season, honestly a date night was the last thing on my mind lately.

Me: "So I bought raffle tickets to the school's casino night since we're not going."
Tony: 'Why aren't we going?"
Me: "Because it costs $50."
Tony: "Use the money in the dresser."
Me: *one eyebrow up* "We have money in the dresser??"
Tony: "Yeah.  There's a $100 in there."
Me: "Well, we still have no sitter."
*dials phone*
Tony: "We do now.  We're going."


~can't argue with that~

So, with sitter in place, we left two hours early to knock out the Christmas shopping as well.  And knock it out we did.  8 kids down and only 3 adults to go!  We arrived tragically early for the event, bought our event tickets and distributed our raffle tickets strategically over the 40 plus gift baskets up for grabs.    Tony made a bee line for the poker table and I gravitated towards blackjack. 

It was 7pm.  I felt confident that we'd be home by nine.

I. Was. So. Wrong.

Before I knew it, I was doubling down on 11, splitting Aces, and praying the dealer busts with a six showing.  I was calculating the 40% odds of a ten showing, in direct ratio to the number of face cards already showing, and learning the hand signals for getting a "hit" and staying.  Please, no one get me a book on how to count cards, it could be very, very, bad for me.

I even became a "woo girl"

Gambling is so much fun when it's not real money. 

I made $500 in one hand.

Then I gave it to Tony for the poker table, and we both lost our imaginary shirts and pants.

We left around 11pm.  We both had a great time, and although we were playing at different tables, had a great time together.

Being the day after a holiday, work on Saturday was brutal.  Getting out at 3pm to get Youngest to his rescheduled visit with his father was even more difficult.  So as I sat in the parking lot, waiting for the exchange, I was a bit more than irritated when I learned he was not coming.  Shortly after this I found out that Oldest was not going out with his Aunt as was also planned.

*sigh*

So, in an effort to reduce the boy's disappointment factor, I suggested that we all go to a favorite restaurant for dinner.  Now, as most of you know, the time between sitting down and actually getting your food can be brutal.  Over the years we have done many things to pass the time while waiting for the food to arrive.  Build houses out of sugar packets. Tic Tac Toe.  Color.  Poke each other under the table.  Tonight's favorite activity, hangman.

"MOM    I S   _ _ A _ T I _ _ _."

Tony: "Come on, you know this, I say it all the time."
Youngest: "Mom is IRRITATED!"


~giggles~


Bring on Sunday.

Truth Is Thursday...

Truth is... it just occurred to me that today is Thursday.

Truth is...  the Wednesday newspapers came for us to deliver on Tuesday.  The Thursday grocery fliers came for us to deliver on Wednesday. So in my head, today is Friday.

Truth is... the tree guy still has not scheduled the day to take down the tree in the front yard.  The roofer has not given me the day that the back roof will be fixed.  My dad hasn't told me the day that the back door will be replaced.  What do you want to bet that all three of these things will happen on the same day?

Truth is... Youngest just found about $90 worth of DS games in the couch. Good to see they were money well spent.

Truth is... I bought my first Christmas gift last week.  It arrived yesterday... broken.

Truth is... that's all I got.  Your turn!

Eleven

At 3:23 today, I was frantically trying to get back to the office so that I could get home to get your brother off the bus, pick you up, and frost the cake.  There were balloons to buy and pizza to order, phone calls to return, and the rest of the everyday stuff that happens on a Wednesday night.

Eleven years ago, this was not the case.  While the entire country was waiting on hanging chads and all the emphasis was on "every vote mattering", I was waiting for something else entirely. In fact, I had been waiting for 32 hours.  For the last 32 hours I had gone without food, without sleep, and for 22 of those hours, without medication.  And then, at 3:23, my wait was over.

7 pounds 6 ounces of wait, perfectly embodied in a rosy pink and purplish baby boy, with wrinkly feet and the sharpest of teeny tiny fingernails.  The bruise on your head from your epic battle with my pelvic bone lasted about as long as your slate blue eyes.  Over the month, the bruise faded to a perfect complexion, as did your eyes to the deepest shade of chocolate brown.

I was not ready to be a mother. 

Yes, I planned you. 

Yes, I had every thing covered.

But I had no idea what I was in for. 

I have watched you go from learning your letters to writing letters.  From typing with one finger to surfing the web with ease. YOU taught me how to cut and paste. You are growing and changing every day right in front of me, weather I like it or not.

You have your own thinking, your own reasoning, your own understanding. Your love of sports amazes me.  You can not remember your homework on the kitchen table, but can recall the stats of everyone on your fantasy football team. And how you can focus on not just the football game, but the pre-game and after show is beyond comprehension.  But, it works for you and that's what matters.

You dance to your own beat, often the one that is heard only in your own head.  You have your own curiosity, and while at times it drives me crazy, please don't ever lose that.  It's our curiosity that keeps us growing, learning, and getting better as people every day.

In two short years you will be an official teenager.  A cranky, hormonal, whiny teenager.  And the older you get, undoubtedly the stupider I will become to you.  I know this, and will love you anyway.

You have 7 years left before you are an adult. Seven more years to be a child.  Seven years to explore new things, think big thoughts, and make many, many mistakes.  Do this as much as you can, because later on all those freedoms you have as a child come with adult responsibilities. 

You do not need to worry, I promise to catch you when you fall.  I will wrap you in my hugs and always give you a safe place to land, because seriously, I have lots of cushion.  But most important, I promise that no matter where you go, or what you do, you can always come home for a snuggle.

I love you buddy.

HaPpY BiRtHdAy!

Tuesday....

No body died today.

No one was injured.

So already we're off to a better start.

The squirrel seems to have lived, and is most likely planning his revenge.

I have stopped attempting to wrap my head around the events that unfolded yesterday.  I can not change it. So, I am focusing on my son who turns 11 tomorrow.  The house smells of confectionery delights, there is frosting everywhere, and I am pleased to say I actually made something I saw on Pinterest.

Rainbow cupcakes! (click here for recipe and directions)  But we're calling them Tye dye cupcakes, because that's cooler and not as girly.

Whatever.  It's still way easier than the Birthday Bugs that he originally wanted....

(picture from here)

Speaking of pinterest, can some one explain this to me?  Why do I need an invitation?  What am I getting "invited" to?  Is this another one of those parties where they invite the dorky girl as the entertainment? 

Damn.  It's like high school all over again.

Life & Death Monday...

In my normal routine of scurrying the kids out the door and on to school, I drive slow through the neighborhood, even stopping at the intersections where I don't have a stop sign, to ensure no one comes barrelling out of the side streets as they are known to do, especially pre-coffee.  I know this, so I look for it.  I was not looking for the squirrel, however. 

The poor guy didn't stand a chance.

Zig.

Zag.

Bump.

I felt horrible.  I even attempted going back later tonight to retrieve the lifeless body and give it a proper burial, but alas, it seems as nature has set it's own course for our little friend.  Be free my squirrely adventurer, and do consider coming back as a different animal in your next life.  Preferably one less prone to becoming road kill.

I arrive at work to find the day has been all rearranged for me.  A finding I am so happy about, I can't even begin to explain it to you. Then, I hear the reason.

One of the girls at work had a brain aneurysm last night.

Wait.  Whoa?

Details were fuzzy this morning, but as the day went on we found she had been out with friends and got a headache.  After passing out, they rushed her to the emergency room, where she was then med-flighted to Boston.  She had emergency surgery, and is under observation for the next ten days, but God willing, she'll be fine.  Had she gone home and gone to bed last night instead of going out, I'd be telling a much different story.

Then they tell me the other part of today's rescheduling.  One of my other co-worker's son was murdered.  He was involved in a fight, and was stabbed in the heart.  He was 23.  His mother (my co-worker) is being heavily sedated.  No one knows the specifics of what happened, speculation has of course occurred. Rumor is, he and his friends were defending some girls from some other guys, and it went south.

And in the end, it doesn't matter.

Regardless of weather it is death by stupidity, honor, or accident, the loss is the same.

So that's my Monday so far. 

I'm making boneless barbecued ribs, potatoes and veggies for dinner.  Then, most likely snuggling down with some good TV and a bit of ice cream later, hugging my own boys just a little tighter than normal.

Friday Fragments...

So I'm linking up with Mrs.4444 over at Half Past Kissing Time with Friday Fragments.  But honestly, I'm not sure how fragmented this will be, because I'm a bit anal retentive and have a bit of CDO (it's OCD, but all the letters are in the right order, mkay?) 

Anyhoo.... Here we go!

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Well, it seems that after I had Sunday off, was out sick on Monday, due to a schedule conflict didn't work on Wednesday, and didn't work on Friday, my shoulder is about back to normal.  Since it also seems that I hold all my stress in my shoulders,  combining this with continual rotate cuff strain, it's a wonder I had any use of my arm at all.  The doctor prescribed more muscle relaxers and a weekly massage for 8 weeks.  But we're calling it physical therapy, shhhh.

She also allowed me to add some refined sugar back into the diet to avoid my stabbing someone and winding up on the news total breakdown binging.  I can have one Rollo, just not the whole bag. One cup of ice cream, not the entire bowl.  Yeah, you get the picture.  Even with the binging, I am down another pound (Yeah!) and combined with the metaphormin, I will be ready for swimsuit season healthier in no time.

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I had perhaps the best IEP meeting for Youngest this morning.  His teacher is no seeing any evidence of the child depicted in the previous year's evaluation, as well as seeing great strides in his classroom temperament.  Not to worry, I loudly mentioned that all last year I said that the bulk of the issue was the classroom placement, and that I was told, "No.  It has to be something going on at home" 

Score : Mom 1, Not-the-Moms 0. 

In working on his writing, we are entertaining the use of a blog.  A private blog, accessible only to his teacher and myself, where he could write his stories for class and also access them in the classroom for all his assignments.  If it goes well, he could use it for his long composition for MCAS (The state mandated testing).  Needless to say, he is a bit interested especially since this "computer time" will replace his homework time.  It's up and running, we'll see how it goes.

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Still haven't heard from the roofer, but I have been eyeing all the things we can do to the sun room when the money comes in.  Funny, as I was looking at the wall, I noticed more water stains on the baseboards.  After telling Tony about the money and then pointing out the new water damage, he replied "I don't see it, all I see is Disney World."

*sigh*

I must say it is a bit frustrating because it will be unseasonably warm this week and I'd like to get the insulation done.  But, if the roof's still leaking, there's no point.  I'd also like to rip out the wet drywall, but again no point. 

*double sigh*

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We're all still fighting the germs here, winter's definitely setting in and I'll be dragging out the winter coats.

Just in time for the 70 degree weather we're promised this week.

Goals for the weekend include finishing sealing the driveway, and successful execution of the beast.

No worries, there's a blog post in there somewhere.

Truth Is Thursday...

Truth is... I'm really excited about the Muppet invasion.  Shuddup. You know you love them too.

Truth is...  My monster cookies are hugely deceiving.  All you need is a few vampire teeth from the party store, cut in half.  Frost the underside of two store bought two inch cookies (mine were from the bakery, but chips ahoy work just fine) with red frosting and sandwich the fangs between the cookies.  Then stick two of the same color M&Ms on the top for eyes with icing, and use black icing for the pupils.  Lastly, mix up green frosting in a zip lock bag, cut off the corner, and dab and pull the frosting on the back half of the cookie for hair.  Easy peesy.

Truth is... simple or not, the kids in Oldest's classroom think I'm the "Mom bomb"

Truth is... the kids in his class thought it was so sad he'd miss out on trick or treat, they brought in candy for him on Tuesday.

Truth is... I got this "financial angel" chain email the other day....

I felt really sad that I had did not have six friends to forward it to that wouldn't hate me for life,  pathetic I know, but I forwarded it anyway.  Later that day, I checked the status of DOR and child support and turns out he deposited $750.  I'll wait while you all pick your jaws up off the floor.  Then I found out the roof and sun room water damage was covered under the homeowners insurance without skyrocketing our premiums.  The check will be some where to the tune of $3500.

Truth is... I'm  now second guessing all those chain emails.

Truth is... I will make more money this week having three days off than if I had gone into work all six days.  It's government math, simpler than the "new math" and more confusing than the 9-9-9 plan.

Truth is... It's your turn!  Feel free to just link back, or just steal the image as the button's been causing chaos lately. If any one knows how to fix this, please let me know...