Monday, September 20, 2010

Wasn't it just yesterday? Or maybe two lifetimes ago...

I ask you… who goes to their 20 year high school reunion and practically pees in their pants?

I’ll give you one guess.

But it really wasn’t my fault. Stupid cannon.

A better question would be… what kind of insane restaurant randomly fires a cannon off of a deck overlooking the lake? Well, the restaurant that the graduating class of 1990 chose for our 20 year shindig. I really think they should give more warning when they let loose with that thing. Or at least state on the invitation to the reunion that packing an extra pair of skivvies in your handbag might be a good idea.

So yes… we all survived the aptly named, “OMIGOD, it’s our 20 year reunion!” reunion. I’ll admit… I had a great time.

I will *also* admit, I was nervous. Isn’t everyone a touch apprehensive to see people they haven’t seen for two decades? Doesn’t everyone think about what it will be like to go to their reunion, ‘all grown up’? Having filled out in the places where they once were not so… um… full? Having discovered what tweezers can do for that pesky unibrow? Wanting to show up and show off, and trot out pictures of their houses and boats and over-gesticulate with their left hand to emphasize the shiny, enormous, diamond engagement ring?

Maybe. But if you ask me, (and it’s my blog, so let’s pretend you did), that’s how I picture it going at the 10 year reunion. (But I can’t say for sure because I didn’t *actually* go). At 10 years, you’re still a little ‘close’ to the trials and tribulations of high school. Still rather fresh from college, and intent on building your career. Maybe feeling like you have to prove yourself just the tiniest bit. Possibly newly married or starting a family, you’re an up-and-comer… a mover and a shaker, and a stop-off at the 10 year reunion is just what’s in order to boost a potentially battered post-grad ego. An “I’ve made it!” of sorts.

I don’t think that’s the case with the 20 year reunion. At 20 years, we’re all a little mellower. We have a little more ‘been there, done that’ under our belts, and the edges of those cliques have finally blurred. Grayed out just a bit more. The laughter is not so tight, and imagined slights have long since become the proverbial water under the bridge. We are bemused with our old selves as we pass around pictures. And we remember.

And so it goes with this group of people that I knew in a lifetime that seems a lifetime ago… the ones I knew before they grew up… the ones who knew me before I ‘grew up’… the ones that knew me before my dad died... some who knew my secrets… some whose secrets I knew… long before I was a wife and a mother and a volunteer junkie. Some I loved, and still do, of course… and others? Well, everyone knows how that is. I am not na├»ve or so nostalgic as to think that the passage of time would erase the gravitational pull we all feel to certain friendships. But I can honestly say that I was genuinely pleased to see every single person that made it to the reunion dinner.

Remember the detention assignment letter at the end of the movie, ‘The Breakfast Club’? How we all have just a little bit of each personality in us? How we are all a ‘brain... and an athlete.....and a basket case... a princess... ...and a criminal...’ How poignant that seemed, and how much we wanted to believe?

Well, I believe it to be true. We are old enough to be genuinely who we are, without taking anything away from anyone else, and also realizing that no one does (or ever has) fit into a nice, neat, little box with a label. We are all so much who we are now, as a result of who we once were. And who we were together.

So, 20 years have passed since we donned those red graduation caps and gowns, and it feels even truer now than it ever did. We are more the same than we were ever different, and perhaps there is a drama queen, a band geek, a brainiac, a football star, a homecoming diva...

and yes… even a pants-wetter… in all of us. ;)

Let’s not wait another 20 years, friends.

Sunday, September 19, 2010

What I would like to know-

What I would like to know…

Is *WHY*…even after giving your child cough medicine for their nagging allergy cough…

even after putting a trash can next to their bed in case they get the ‘allergy gags’ in the middle of the night…

even AFTER you have told said child that "here is a trash can… RIGHT NEXT to you in case you feel a little sick to your stomach from the coughing… and the running around, playing football… and, um… the churro you ate…”


Do children insist on coming directly to your bedside in the middle of the night to say, “I don’t think I feel so-“

Great. Juuuuust great.

Nothing like the unfortunately all-too-familiar splattering sound right next to your bed.

I’m sorry, folks. Disgusting visual, I know, but not nearly as disgusting as cleaning up churro-laced vomit with a Shop-Vac at 1:00 a.m. (I’m guessing… since Phil is the one on puke duty around here.)

When asked why he didn’t just use the trash can that was right next to his bed? (and no, it wasn’t that mesh one that I bought at IKEA, either)… his answer?

“It wasn’t big enough.”

Clearly the just-recently-cleaned carpet next to Momma and Daddy’s bed was the better choice.


Thursday, September 16, 2010

Radishes? Redundant!

Today I earned the ‘Mother of the Year’ award!

Oh, yes. But if you look closely at the engraving, you’ll notice that there is the little addition of the word “CRAPPIEST” scratched into the nameplate.

Which is what they give you when you FORGET TO PACK YOUR CHILD’S WHOLE LUNCH! Oh, and when you do it for three children, the award is extra magnificent.

Evidently, for lunch today, each of my kids had

1. a Capri-Sun
2. Grapes
3. Fritos

And that’s it. Because I forgot to pack the rest of their lunches for some reason.

Sandwiches? Superfluous!
Napkins? Needless!
Dessert? A distraction!

Speaking of distraction… I guess that’s what happened yesterday afternoon. Go figure… between helping with homework, answering the door, trying to figure out what we were going to have for dinner, heading to the dentist for the kids’ cleanings (to then receive a referral for an orthodontist for Davis… ugh)... I guess I thought they were finished.

It’s not like I thought the ‘Lunch Fairy’ was going to come and visit or anything. (Wouldn’t that be awesome if there was actually a Lunch Fairy?? Wings of bologna, a string cheese magic wand, and little pitted olives for shoes? Awwww…sweet. Or savory ;)

Nope, I just got sidetracked, thought I’d finished the lunches, and stuck the re-usable containers in the refrigerator (RE-USABLE because I love Mother Earth, bee-yotches.)

This morning, the kids actually took them out of the fridge and put them in their backpacks without being reminded (or without me having to do it), so I didn’t notice that their lunch boxes seemed unusually… er…light. The *one* morning they do what they’re supposed to do. Naturally.

What made it worse was that after school, they didn’t throw themselves into the van, wailing about how they were starving. I know… crazy, but it would have made me feel a little better. No… after picking them up, and heading off on an errand, it was a full TEN minutes before Josie mentioned in kind of an off-hand manner…“Oh yeah…Momma, I didn’t have a sandwich today.”

Me: "Yes, you did!"

Josie: "No! No, I didn’t!"

Davis: "I didn’t either!"

Libby: "I’m soooooo hungry!" *sob

Me (backtracking the previous afternoon in my head, sinking feeling setting in): "What *did* you have??"

So how did I redeem myself?

I’d *like* to say that I took them home immediately after school, and whipped up something healthy. You know, something all full of bran and antioxidants and multi-vitamins. Some kale/ banana/ wheat germ monstrosity to give my children the nutrition I so neglectfully denied them today.

But Mommy-guilt is a pretty big motivator to drive to Sonic for slushies and cheeseburgers.

Guess I'm keeping that trophy for awhile.

Monday, September 13, 2010


I am ready for cooler weather. Which I know makes me exactly like every other person in our great state, but I simply cannot take it anymore.

A short list of things that I am sick of: (yeah, yeah... I know that's not proper English, but I'm too hot to care.)

1. Swimsuits and beach towels. Or to be more precise, WASHING swimsuits and beach towels.

2. An electric bill the likes of which is approximately the GNP of a small Latin American country.

3.The latch to open the back of my van. It likes to melt in temps over 95 degrees, and when it melts, it is sticky and I get black goo all over my fingers when I try to open it. And the idiot service people at Toyota don’t really think its an issue, and that it’s certainly not covered by warranty, and that I should pay for it out-of-pocket. Damn bloodsuckers.

4. Oh, and I’m sick to death of mosquitoes. And how much they resemble Toyota service managers.

5. That it is too hot to snuggle up with my boyfriend. And that I end up shoving him over to the middle of the bed during the night. Which makes my husband much less amenable to sharing the bed with my boyfriend*. (Try to wrap your head around that one, why doncha’?)

6. Sunscreen. The smell of it… the mess it makes in my swim bag because everyone was way too eager to just jump in the water, and a little inconvenience like CLOSING THE CAP was clearly negotiable.

7. Boob sweat. Now don’t go acting all surprised or offended, girls. We’ve all had that same little trickly feeling. And I *know* we Southern girls are supposed to GLOW… but if you’re glowing, instead of full-on sweating, then clearly you haven’t spent an August day at Sea World in San Antonio.

8. It’s too hot outside to want to do anything other than watch television or play video games. Which we did more than our fair share of this summer. So much so that I suspect the kids believe that ‘WE’ is actually spelled ‘Wii’… know, as in “Wii went to the Toyota service department again today. And Mommy went all ‘Are you Smarter than a 5th Grader?’ on those stupid mosquitoes.

*'boyfriend'= body pillow (just thought I'd clear that up ;)

Friday, September 10, 2010

Things I learned or remembered this week:

1. Sometimes a 4 day week feels waaaaay longer than a regular week. Can anyone explain this phenomenon to me?

2. It feels good to just let things go sometimes. And I don’t mean the laundry, either, because that just stresses me the hell out. I’m talking about the resentment and the grudge and the need to feel righteously indignant.

3. Remember back when I just wasn’t sure how I would get through the day with my sweet little baby in kindergarten? No worries. I’ve discovered that 2:45 gets here very quickly.

4. Packing for a ‘secret vacation’ is tricky. Oh, and keeping your mouth shut about a ‘secret vacation’ is super hard, too. Especially for me.

5. A group of 10 year old girls can squeal VERY loudly. And often.

6. It is a good idea to have a stockpile of ibuprofen when planning a sleepover. I'm just sayin'.

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

I think you should.

Go to my profile. Right now.

Jeeeeez... bossy, aren't I?

See that? I have a new blog.

It's called 'Packing for Planet Linson'. Go check it out ;)

Tuesday, September 7, 2010

An ocean view

Libby made this picture for me...

Oooh, scary! Right?

She then pointed to the big shark with the bloody teeth, and the mean eye, that looks as though it is trying to chase someone up a mountain as they drip blood back down into the water (what can I say? Maybe we shouldn't have let her watch 'Shark Week' on the Discovery Channel.)... and anyone want to guess what she said?

"That's you, Mommy!"

The shark.

Oh dear. My heart broke just a little bit, and as I looked at her picture, I wondered why on earth my little girl would draw a picture of me as an angry, man-eating shark?

Maybe I shouldn't have yelled at her to pick her shoes up off the stairs before somebody 'trips and kills themself, and has to go to the hospital!' (Trust me... I know that doesn't make any sense.)

Maybe I shouldn't have threatened to take her for an immediate haircut if she didn't stop squirming and whining while I was trying to brush it out.

Maybe I should try to have more patience.

Libby: "And that? (pointing to the man, trying to escape up the mountainside) That is someone that was going to hurt your little shark babies."

Me : "He was?"

Libby: "Yep. So you bit him."

What relief I felt. My kid didn't think I was some mean monster (at least not today ;), and she felt secure that I would bite the heck out of anyone that would ever try to harm my own little shark babies. Damn skippy!

Libby: "And that's me. (pointing to the little green triangle inside/ next to the mama shark.)..... And that right there? That's your pretty pearl necklace."

But of course. A girl's gotta look stylish, even when protecting her own. ;)

Thursday, September 2, 2010

Oh, I've missed you little Blogosphere buddies!

Oh. My. Goodness!

I have missed all of my snookums (um... yeah. That's you, people.), and I hope that you will consider forgiving me for abandoning you for over a week!

What can I say? I know that being all, like, "I've been busy!" is such a cop-out. But, really...

Need proof?

That zebra was hard to catch.