QPM #4,692: Pulling yesterday's dry pull-up out of the trash and letting little girl re-wear it because I forgot to go to the grocery store to buy a new pack.
Why on earth is my portrait not hanging in the Parental Hall of Fame?
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Friday, October 7, 2011
A Love Song, Definitely
I've beaten the musical horse with my ramblings of how music plays into my life -- sending me back lost into memories or stirring my desire for a spring time road trip in a car with the top down. This morning as I am a mere 48 hrs from leaving for the project I work all year for I show up to work before the crick crack of dawn to wrap up all of my teeny tiny details and find that the network drives are not accessible. F*** me!!! to quote Stu. Really...
I am worn thin by long hours, lack of sleep, way too much caffenine, no time, and stress oozing out my pores. My radio station is irriating me to the point of being irrational - my iTunes is not satisfying me yet some how a song finds me...
The first time I hear this song I am saddened...it feels sad. But is that my mood determining the music?
I looked up the lyrics. Its a beautiful love song. Seems to be the only thing I am interested in hearing today.
So I get to choose -- sad music or love song? For me a metaphor for my state of mind.
For Chad --- it is Matthew's Song....
Eric's Song by Vienna Teng on YouTube
Lyrics:
Strange how you know inside me
I measure the time and I stand amazed
Strange how I know inside you
My hand is outstretched toward the damp of the haze
And of course I forgive
I've seen how you live
Like a phoenix you rise from the ashes
You pick up the pieces
And the ghosts in the attic
They never quite leave
And of course I forgive
You've seen how I live
I've got darkness and fears to appease
My voices and analogies
Ambitions like ribbons
Worn bright on my sleeve
Strange how we know each other
Strange how I fit into you
There's a distance erased with the greatest of ease
Strange how you fit into me
A gentle warmth filling the deepest of needs
And with each passing day
The stories we say
Draw us tighter into our addiction
Confirm our conviction
That some kind of miracle
Passed on our heads
And how I am sure
Like never before
Of my reasons for defying reason
Embracing the seasons
We dance through the colors
Both followed and led
Strange how we fit each other
Strange how certain the journey
Time unfolds the petals
For our eyes to see
Strange how this journey's hurting
In ways we accept as part of fate's decree
So we just hold on fast
Acknowledge the past
As lessons exquisitely crafted
Painstakingly drafted
To carve us as instruments
That play the music of life
For we don't realize
Our faith in the prize
Unless it's been somehow elusive
How swiftly we choose it
The sacred simplicity
Of you at my side
I am worn thin by long hours, lack of sleep, way too much caffenine, no time, and stress oozing out my pores. My radio station is irriating me to the point of being irrational - my iTunes is not satisfying me yet some how a song finds me...
The first time I hear this song I am saddened...it feels sad. But is that my mood determining the music?
I looked up the lyrics. Its a beautiful love song. Seems to be the only thing I am interested in hearing today.
So I get to choose -- sad music or love song? For me a metaphor for my state of mind.
For Chad --- it is Matthew's Song....
Eric's Song by Vienna Teng on YouTube
Lyrics:
Strange how you know inside me
I measure the time and I stand amazed
Strange how I know inside you
My hand is outstretched toward the damp of the haze
And of course I forgive
I've seen how you live
Like a phoenix you rise from the ashes
You pick up the pieces
And the ghosts in the attic
They never quite leave
And of course I forgive
You've seen how I live
I've got darkness and fears to appease
My voices and analogies
Ambitions like ribbons
Worn bright on my sleeve
Strange how we know each other
Strange how I fit into you
There's a distance erased with the greatest of ease
Strange how you fit into me
A gentle warmth filling the deepest of needs
And with each passing day
The stories we say
Draw us tighter into our addiction
Confirm our conviction
That some kind of miracle
Passed on our heads
And how I am sure
Like never before
Of my reasons for defying reason
Embracing the seasons
We dance through the colors
Both followed and led
Strange how we fit each other
Strange how certain the journey
Time unfolds the petals
For our eyes to see
Strange how this journey's hurting
In ways we accept as part of fate's decree
So we just hold on fast
Acknowledge the past
As lessons exquisitely crafted
Painstakingly drafted
To carve us as instruments
That play the music of life
For we don't realize
Our faith in the prize
Unless it's been somehow elusive
How swiftly we choose it
The sacred simplicity
Of you at my side
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
A Children's Story
One of the twists of having children is the unexpected moments they bring to our lives -- those times where I really don't think my brain can churn an answer fast enough or accurate enough or parental enough. These moments always occur when my guard is down.
Zachary had checked out a book from the library -- it was a Star Wars book - yes he is the definition of obsessed. It was divided into three stories in one book so we were reading a story a night at bedtime. On this particular night, the story was about a battle between the Jedi and Clones versus the Battle Droids and how the Battle Droids thought their ambush would destroy the Jedi but the Jedi outsmarted them, etc etc.
A very tiny little subplot -- not even two pages worth of story - was about the Jedi trying to evacuate the civilians to a safe location. There were lines of people waiting to get on the transport however all of these people had all of their possessions with them. The Jedi then had to make a tough call and told all the civilians that only people were getting on the transport and they would have to leave all of their things behind.
There were protests -- "my mother's china - my grandpa's picture -- they have to come --I will NOT leave them." One guy hid all his stuff under a coat trying to smuggle it on board. But the Jedi drew the line -- people only. Then one farmer tried to bring his elephant dog thing on the transport but the Jedi said no. The farmer said that this elephant dog thing was like family and he could not leave it behind. The Jedi said to the farmer then you pick three of your neighbors to stay behind so that your elephant dog can get on the transport. The farmer looks at the people and then kisses his elephant dog thing and says to it -- Run to the desert and when the battle is over I will come find you and bring you home. The elephant dog cried and then ran away.
Again I must state this whole scene was two pages out of 30.
After Z's story, Rylee picked hers - Llama Llama series or Go Dog Go -- something of that nature. We then followed our usual bed time process. Lights out - prayers - kisses - take Rylee to bed then come back to tickle Z's back for a few minutes and then night night.
When I returned to Z's room to tickle his back, he rolled over and had those giant-only-a-kid-can-make tears rolling down his eyes. I was so startled. He wasn't sobbing -- just eyes full of tears and they were leaving shiny streaks on his cheeks. I asked him what was wrong and he said that he was so sad for the farmer to leave his pet. He said he just didn't understand why the elephant dog had to stay because it might die in the battle.
The value of Human life versus Animal Life actually Pet Life - Oh my. I am so over my head -- I try to pause to form my words correctly but I don't even know what words to try.
I attempt to explain that while pets are very important and very loved in this situation we have to save the people before the pets. Trying to put it in a little perspective I pose the example if we had to pick between the elephant dog and Rylee we would pick Rylee - right? Silence. I restate - we can't leave your sister and take the pet - right? More silence. It is kind of funny from a sibling rivalry point of view but at the time I was grasping at anything to help my son understand and say “Zachary - we can’t leave Rylee!”
I try the distraction technique -- "Don't worry Zachary when the battle was over the farmer came back and found his elephant dog and they lived together on the farm. It was a hard choice for the farmer but it worked out fine."
Z responds - "but Mom what if the battle droids had won and the pet had died because the farmer chose to leave him."
Now I have giant tears. I am so full of love for my sensitive caring loving boy but I am frustrated that I cannot adequately explain the situation.
So I just push forward with the truth. I tell him that if the pet had died the farmer would have been so very sad. That it would have been so hard for the farmer and he would miss his elephant dog. That the farmer may have even gotten angry with the Jedi for making him leave that family pet behind. But after time, the farmer would know that while his beloved pet died, a family was able to keep three of their loved people.
He still had the tears streaming and he kind of nodded and rolled over. He sniffed and said “You’re right. We can’t leave Rylee but I am still sad.”
I lay down next to him and tickled his back and said “I know you are baby.”
From Star Wars bed time story to a discussion on the value of life…I am a seriously underprepared parent of a beautifully compassionate boy.
Zachary had checked out a book from the library -- it was a Star Wars book - yes he is the definition of obsessed. It was divided into three stories in one book so we were reading a story a night at bedtime. On this particular night, the story was about a battle between the Jedi and Clones versus the Battle Droids and how the Battle Droids thought their ambush would destroy the Jedi but the Jedi outsmarted them, etc etc.
A very tiny little subplot -- not even two pages worth of story - was about the Jedi trying to evacuate the civilians to a safe location. There were lines of people waiting to get on the transport however all of these people had all of their possessions with them. The Jedi then had to make a tough call and told all the civilians that only people were getting on the transport and they would have to leave all of their things behind.
There were protests -- "my mother's china - my grandpa's picture -- they have to come --I will NOT leave them." One guy hid all his stuff under a coat trying to smuggle it on board. But the Jedi drew the line -- people only. Then one farmer tried to bring his elephant dog thing on the transport but the Jedi said no. The farmer said that this elephant dog thing was like family and he could not leave it behind. The Jedi said to the farmer then you pick three of your neighbors to stay behind so that your elephant dog can get on the transport. The farmer looks at the people and then kisses his elephant dog thing and says to it -- Run to the desert and when the battle is over I will come find you and bring you home. The elephant dog cried and then ran away.
Again I must state this whole scene was two pages out of 30.
After Z's story, Rylee picked hers - Llama Llama series or Go Dog Go -- something of that nature. We then followed our usual bed time process. Lights out - prayers - kisses - take Rylee to bed then come back to tickle Z's back for a few minutes and then night night.
When I returned to Z's room to tickle his back, he rolled over and had those giant-only-a-kid-can-make tears rolling down his eyes. I was so startled. He wasn't sobbing -- just eyes full of tears and they were leaving shiny streaks on his cheeks. I asked him what was wrong and he said that he was so sad for the farmer to leave his pet. He said he just didn't understand why the elephant dog had to stay because it might die in the battle.
The value of Human life versus Animal Life actually Pet Life - Oh my. I am so over my head -- I try to pause to form my words correctly but I don't even know what words to try.
I attempt to explain that while pets are very important and very loved in this situation we have to save the people before the pets. Trying to put it in a little perspective I pose the example if we had to pick between the elephant dog and Rylee we would pick Rylee - right? Silence. I restate - we can't leave your sister and take the pet - right? More silence. It is kind of funny from a sibling rivalry point of view but at the time I was grasping at anything to help my son understand and say “Zachary - we can’t leave Rylee!”
I try the distraction technique -- "Don't worry Zachary when the battle was over the farmer came back and found his elephant dog and they lived together on the farm. It was a hard choice for the farmer but it worked out fine."
Z responds - "but Mom what if the battle droids had won and the pet had died because the farmer chose to leave him."
Now I have giant tears. I am so full of love for my sensitive caring loving boy but I am frustrated that I cannot adequately explain the situation.
So I just push forward with the truth. I tell him that if the pet had died the farmer would have been so very sad. That it would have been so hard for the farmer and he would miss his elephant dog. That the farmer may have even gotten angry with the Jedi for making him leave that family pet behind. But after time, the farmer would know that while his beloved pet died, a family was able to keep three of their loved people.
He still had the tears streaming and he kind of nodded and rolled over. He sniffed and said “You’re right. We can’t leave Rylee but I am still sad.”
I lay down next to him and tickled his back and said “I know you are baby.”
From Star Wars bed time story to a discussion on the value of life…I am a seriously underprepared parent of a beautifully compassionate boy.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
A video? Like one??? Try THREE!
Day 23: A video
Can't pick just one so....
Video 1: Z calls 911
This video is Zachary at his Safety Town field trip that I was able to chaperone. He was "volunteered" to show what it is like to make a 911 call. I wish I had video taped the screen he was looking at - it was a picture of a frying pan in huge flames. I also wish the audio was better so you could hear his answers. I was very proud of him -- he seems to have a bit of dramatic flair (say what???) and was quite a natural up there despite never having called 911 in real life. However, what makes me smile the most is the end where his classmates make room for him on the steps and he high fives his friend Cristian -- it's a goofy mom thing I guess -- proud to see your child interacting with his friends.
Can't pick just one so....
Video 1: Z calls 911
This video is Zachary at his Safety Town field trip that I was able to chaperone. He was "volunteered" to show what it is like to make a 911 call. I wish I had video taped the screen he was looking at - it was a picture of a frying pan in huge flames. I also wish the audio was better so you could hear his answers. I was very proud of him -- he seems to have a bit of dramatic flair (say what???) and was quite a natural up there despite never having called 911 in real life. However, what makes me smile the most is the end where his classmates make room for him on the steps and he high fives his friend Cristian -- it's a goofy mom thing I guess -- proud to see your child interacting with his friends.
Video 2: Ry does yardwork
Rylee is all about "I do it!" "I try" and all the stereotypical independent phrases a 2 year can say. I picked this video of her because: 1. She had to do it (but Chad wouldn't let her do it on her own for obvious reasons) and 2. She is wearing a tutu. She does everything in a tutu -- a PINK tutu. Getting her ready for school in the morning is a battle because I don't let her wear her tutus to school -- she would sleep, shower, and play in a tutu if we would let her. While annoying at times - I have to admit this pink girly tutu phase makes me smile -- she looks so darn cute!!
Video 3: Super the Batman
My favorite video of my absolutely favorite three people. I think this showcases another reason I am completely in love with Chad - he is a down in the ditches Dad. He is not afraid to get on the floor and play and be involved. Not every dad has wicked light saber battles or defends himself from two little Power Rangers wielding Nerf swords or gives horse back rides or plays freeze blanket. Z and Ry -- we are a very lucky and incredibly blessed family to have the Daddy we do!!
Thursday, June 2, 2011
A Tale of Two Kids and a Retirement Party
Tale A: My beautiful Rylee Girl
My MILs retirement party was from 2 – 4pm last Friday at her bank. We drove in that morning, got to SA in time to change and head to the bank. Knowing that 2 hrs in a bank after a long car ride and no nap have potential for total kid meltdown, Chad smartly packed books and coloring materials for entertainment.
Because the bank was still open and there were customers trying to do business, we set boundaries of where the children could and could not go. About an hour into it, Rylee decides to see if I really meant it about the no-go zone. She took off running to another part of the bank. I must also offer this piece of trivia – the majority of the bank clientele that was walking around the lobby that day averaged the age of 75. There were lots of people with walkers and canes and not prepared to have a nearly 3 year old come whizzing by.
I chased her at a fast walk and trying to use my inside voice said “Rylee you are not supposed to be on this side of the bank – please go back to MiMi’s party.” She smiled and kept running. In a little bit louder of a voice I say “Rylee – enough! Now! WALK back to the party.” My child then crossed her arms in front of her chest, leaned on her hip, and very sternly with plenty of attitude (and I swear she bobbed her head too!) said “No.”
I have no idea what look I gave her – honestly I was so stunned at her defiance I may have blacked out – but what ever look it was made her eyes get really big and she ran faster than I have ever seen her back over to MiMi’s party and straight to MiMi.
My MIL who was in the middle of everything was so happy that her little granddaughter who had been so very shy up to this point had come over to see her. She scooped up Ry and started introducing her around.
I am sure my face was crunched up into something very ugly and I walked up to my husband and BIL and said “Unbelievable!” I told the story, thrust out my hip in the same way she did to put more emphasis on her shocking behavior and then pointed at my daughter that had been granted asylum in her MiMi’s arms. Both Chad and Todd cracked up – they thought it was hilarious. Todd said that Kendall probably taught her that and Chad said he thought it was a smart move by our daughter to head straight to MiMi – she knew what she was doing.
We all turn to look at the little angel who smiles at the three of us , sweetly touches MiMi’s cheek, and then lays her head down on MiMi’s shoulder to nuzzle in.
Tale B: My sweet Z
Dinner after the bank retirement party is at a small west Texas town’s dive famous for its amazing chicken fried steak – Lowake’s – and it is about 25 mins from my in-laws house. We have essentially gone from the bank to the house to regroup and then out to dinner. No rest for the weary or the children.
Not to shockingly my kids are bored and want to run around the restaurant. I hate that. I don’t like them running around because they may run into a server or disturb someone eating. I get why parents allow their kids to do that and I know that Lowake’s is not known for its linen table clothes and china plates but even those eating chicken fried steak do not need to listen to and watch my kids run.
I finally breakdown and tell Zachary they can go into the bar (I know!) and “play” the video games. There is a Ms. Pac Man, a hunting game with two pistols, and a “you’ll never get anything from here” claw game. Ry could care less if she is really playing the game or it is on its looped demo. She plays with the guns, presses buttons, and watches the screen. Z wanted to play but I honestly hadn’t brought my wallet with me (guess I presumed I wasn’t paying for dinner!) so I told him he would have to pretend.
One of other kids there, he is four, had been dumping dollar after dollar in that stupid claw machine. He had his heart set on the Nemo fish – it was purple by the way – not orange and white – not judging here just observing.
During this time my BIL gave Zachary a dollar and Kendall a dollar saying that PaPa Martin gave them money. So Zachary wanted to do the claw game. UGH. Oh well, his money and his decision. He just watched Gage lose at least five dollars total trying for a stupid fish. I told Z he would have to wait his turn and that he could do what he wanted.
Gage’s mom got him 8 more quarters and I watch each quarter go in and the claw just miss the Nemo eight more times. Gage was not a happy boy especially when his mom said that it was Zachary’s turn.
Z put his first quarter in the game and went for the Nemo. And holy crap – he got the freakin Nemo. First try. I couldn’t believe it.
Zachary then takes the fake purple Nemo fish and hands it to Gage. He told Gage that he knew Gage really wanted it.
Z proceeded to give the claw machine his last three quarters with no prize for him.
The pride I felt at that moment – I just reached down and kept squeezing him over and over. Telling him what a sweet and giving boy he is and he got very bashful. I was – AM – so very proud of him.
What of these tales?
There is no real lesson here other than I think they stories highlight what stage of life my children are in. Rylee is testing her boundaries and Zachary is becoming aware of other’s feelings. And I definitely need to chill out.
My MILs retirement party was from 2 – 4pm last Friday at her bank. We drove in that morning, got to SA in time to change and head to the bank. Knowing that 2 hrs in a bank after a long car ride and no nap have potential for total kid meltdown, Chad smartly packed books and coloring materials for entertainment.
Because the bank was still open and there were customers trying to do business, we set boundaries of where the children could and could not go. About an hour into it, Rylee decides to see if I really meant it about the no-go zone. She took off running to another part of the bank. I must also offer this piece of trivia – the majority of the bank clientele that was walking around the lobby that day averaged the age of 75. There were lots of people with walkers and canes and not prepared to have a nearly 3 year old come whizzing by.
I chased her at a fast walk and trying to use my inside voice said “Rylee you are not supposed to be on this side of the bank – please go back to MiMi’s party.” She smiled and kept running. In a little bit louder of a voice I say “Rylee – enough! Now! WALK back to the party.” My child then crossed her arms in front of her chest, leaned on her hip, and very sternly with plenty of attitude (and I swear she bobbed her head too!) said “No.”
I have no idea what look I gave her – honestly I was so stunned at her defiance I may have blacked out – but what ever look it was made her eyes get really big and she ran faster than I have ever seen her back over to MiMi’s party and straight to MiMi.
My MIL who was in the middle of everything was so happy that her little granddaughter who had been so very shy up to this point had come over to see her. She scooped up Ry and started introducing her around.
I am sure my face was crunched up into something very ugly and I walked up to my husband and BIL and said “Unbelievable!” I told the story, thrust out my hip in the same way she did to put more emphasis on her shocking behavior and then pointed at my daughter that had been granted asylum in her MiMi’s arms. Both Chad and Todd cracked up – they thought it was hilarious. Todd said that Kendall probably taught her that and Chad said he thought it was a smart move by our daughter to head straight to MiMi – she knew what she was doing.
We all turn to look at the little angel who smiles at the three of us , sweetly touches MiMi’s cheek, and then lays her head down on MiMi’s shoulder to nuzzle in.
Tale B: My sweet Z
Dinner after the bank retirement party is at a small west Texas town’s dive famous for its amazing chicken fried steak – Lowake’s – and it is about 25 mins from my in-laws house. We have essentially gone from the bank to the house to regroup and then out to dinner. No rest for the weary or the children.
Not to shockingly my kids are bored and want to run around the restaurant. I hate that. I don’t like them running around because they may run into a server or disturb someone eating. I get why parents allow their kids to do that and I know that Lowake’s is not known for its linen table clothes and china plates but even those eating chicken fried steak do not need to listen to and watch my kids run.
I finally breakdown and tell Zachary they can go into the bar (I know!) and “play” the video games. There is a Ms. Pac Man, a hunting game with two pistols, and a “you’ll never get anything from here” claw game. Ry could care less if she is really playing the game or it is on its looped demo. She plays with the guns, presses buttons, and watches the screen. Z wanted to play but I honestly hadn’t brought my wallet with me (guess I presumed I wasn’t paying for dinner!) so I told him he would have to pretend.
One of other kids there, he is four, had been dumping dollar after dollar in that stupid claw machine. He had his heart set on the Nemo fish – it was purple by the way – not orange and white – not judging here just observing.
During this time my BIL gave Zachary a dollar and Kendall a dollar saying that PaPa Martin gave them money. So Zachary wanted to do the claw game. UGH. Oh well, his money and his decision. He just watched Gage lose at least five dollars total trying for a stupid fish. I told Z he would have to wait his turn and that he could do what he wanted.
Gage’s mom got him 8 more quarters and I watch each quarter go in and the claw just miss the Nemo eight more times. Gage was not a happy boy especially when his mom said that it was Zachary’s turn.
Z put his first quarter in the game and went for the Nemo. And holy crap – he got the freakin Nemo. First try. I couldn’t believe it.
Zachary then takes the fake purple Nemo fish and hands it to Gage. He told Gage that he knew Gage really wanted it.
Z proceeded to give the claw machine his last three quarters with no prize for him.
The pride I felt at that moment – I just reached down and kept squeezing him over and over. Telling him what a sweet and giving boy he is and he got very bashful. I was – AM – so very proud of him.
What of these tales?
There is no real lesson here other than I think they stories highlight what stage of life my children are in. Rylee is testing her boundaries and Zachary is becoming aware of other’s feelings. And I definitely need to chill out.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
I'm Just a Girl in the World
This blog post actually started a little while ago in my head when Chad and I loaded up the kids to go on a road trip to South Arlington (hey it is far for us!) and I got in the passenger side and he on the driver’s side. There was no talk of who was going to drive, no compromise of you drive now and I’ll drive home, we both assumed Chad would drive.
The entry further formed last night as the kids and I were in the closet under the stairs and Chad was standing about two feet outside the closet watching the TV radar. Chad had been pacing back and forth – going outside to look at clouds – getting the weather radio out – pulling out the vacuum and extra folding chairs we keep in the closet to make room for his family. He had the computer radar going, the TV on, and his iPhone radar. I on the other hand was sitting on the couch looking at a book with Z and Ry. Looking up at the weather occasionally and asking Chad if he wanted us to go in the closet. I waited for his signal and then shepherded the kids into the closet. In the closet, the kids watched a TV episode on the computer and I pondered our situation.
It seemed funny to me that I was so passive in this situation. I am not one to keep my mouth shut about my opinions or suggestions with Chad. However at this time I relied solely on his guidance – he’ll tell us when to go in and he’ll tell us when we can get out of the closet. While Chad does have a fascination with weather, I assure you his meteorological skills are not really that much more advanced than my own. So why did I rely on him to be the decision maker in this situation? I tried to let the idea of traditional sex roles pass with no stopping in my brain but it did stop and fester.
I feel the need to back track a little here to address my personal take on traditional sex roles. My parents tried to be as neutral as possible when raising me – I had my own set of Tonka Trucks and Jamey had a Mikey doll – and no dream or want was off limits based on the fact that I was female. Sports were very encouraged and college was expected as was being a self sufficient adult.
In the PC world of higher education, I was more active and vocal about my opinions on equal rights for everyone regardless of sex, origin, sexual orientation, color, or favorite ice cream flavor. I was passionate and belonged to every college diversity committee possible – Human Rights Month committee, Black History Month Committee, Women’s History Month Committee, etc. I had a different ribbon on every month.
Moving to Lubbock was a shock to my system in the sense that I found a lot more women that were more passive about their abilities and plans. Sexism seemed to be more rampant in Lubbock than Columbia. Which stunned me at the time…I was a tad self righteous but isn’t that the job of a college student? To be so sure that you are right and you can change the world into realizing that your way is the absolute best way?
My graduate thesis was born out of my love for sports and my love for equality. I was horrified that soccer was not a legitimate sport or opportunity for girls past the age of ten in the eyes of the community. That led to a year long study to find that people in Lubbock believe boys should play football and girls should not. Surprised? I didn’t think so. It is funny to me now being nearly 15 years older and how black and white I viewed things.
TANGENT ALERT: I did want to educate those of you that read this blog. Sex is objective (insert joke here!) - either/or - male or female. Gender is subjective and falls on a continuum of masculine and feminine. Your sex can be male but your gender feminine. Drives me crazy with every form I fill out that asks what gender I am when they really want to know what sex I am. OK OK – maybe in Webster’s they’ll tell you that gender and sex are interchangeable words but with a year of researching the topic I stand by my definitions and differentiations.
Fast forward to present time. I am still a firm believer in avoiding sex roles. That will not change with my son or daughter. I don’t want them to find limits in what they do or where they go based on sex. But as I ponder how I have left Chad with the decisions on what to do in this weather situation, I begin to think that I have let down my college self. I do not feel like an independent woman – I feel like I have left the safety and security of my family completely in the hands of Chad. Not that he can’t handle it – he can – but shouldn’t that be the responsibility of both of us. Not me passively waiting on instructions. Why is it Chad’s role? Is it because he is the man of the house?
What do I rely on Chad for?
- Fixing broken things – toasters, chairs, fence
- Smoke detector maintenance
- Building – IKEA stuff, kids’ swing set
- Changing high light bulbs
- Taking charge in emergency or tense situations
What does Chad rely on me for?
- What to do when the kids are sick – how much medicine, which medicine, when to go to the doctor
- Taking care of birthday cards, parties, gifts
- Calendar maintenance – appointments, school functions, social gatherings
- Kid wardrobe – purchasing new items, outfit choices
I am intrigued as to what lines these tasks were subconsciously split. What is important to know when comparing these lists that they were not discussed. Chad and I have assumed these responsibilities without even having a conversation about it. I mean there are things that I do – laundry – and that he does – pay bills, lawn care – but these are tasks we divided up over ten years ago. We actually made a list of chores and responsibilities and divvied them up. The items outlined above? It just happened.
I believe some of this task assignments are based on skill – Chad is incredibly handy and is a natural problem solver and I have a weird memory that lets dates and people stick forever in my brain (I can tell you the birthdays of my 8th grade class – very bizarre I know) and the duty simply fell to the person that handles it best.
But what about the others? I have no training in the medical field. Chad did not take one class in high risk management. Those fall suspiciously close to sex roles.
And the driving thing. That bugs me – not that I have any high need to drive because I am AOK being the passenger but the fact that I assume I am the passenger is annoying. Is it because we always take Chad’s car?
In the end does it matter? Are we setting some sort of example for my kids about sex roles? I am thinking I am setting a bad example for my kids on far worse things and I do not have the time or energy to worry about these. Or is this how it gets passed down to the next generation? Being passive.
The college idealistic egotistical savior of the world woman in me is screaming in my brain to switch it up – don’t fall into a sexist pattern – don’t teach your kids that it’s ok. But her scream is no longer a roar – more of a faint call drowned out by the mature (hee hee) happy woman’s song that found compromise to make her marriage work and her life flow. While I may have been kicked out of Gloria Steinem’s club, I still have hope for equality and fully supportive of freedom for all regardless of sex or gender.
All of this said by the woman who’s son says you can’t have a pink light saber because it is too girly and Star Wars isn’t for girls and a daughter who won’t go anywhere without a pink tutu and a hair bow. College MK never stood a chance.
The entry further formed last night as the kids and I were in the closet under the stairs and Chad was standing about two feet outside the closet watching the TV radar. Chad had been pacing back and forth – going outside to look at clouds – getting the weather radio out – pulling out the vacuum and extra folding chairs we keep in the closet to make room for his family. He had the computer radar going, the TV on, and his iPhone radar. I on the other hand was sitting on the couch looking at a book with Z and Ry. Looking up at the weather occasionally and asking Chad if he wanted us to go in the closet. I waited for his signal and then shepherded the kids into the closet. In the closet, the kids watched a TV episode on the computer and I pondered our situation.
It seemed funny to me that I was so passive in this situation. I am not one to keep my mouth shut about my opinions or suggestions with Chad. However at this time I relied solely on his guidance – he’ll tell us when to go in and he’ll tell us when we can get out of the closet. While Chad does have a fascination with weather, I assure you his meteorological skills are not really that much more advanced than my own. So why did I rely on him to be the decision maker in this situation? I tried to let the idea of traditional sex roles pass with no stopping in my brain but it did stop and fester.
I feel the need to back track a little here to address my personal take on traditional sex roles. My parents tried to be as neutral as possible when raising me – I had my own set of Tonka Trucks and Jamey had a Mikey doll – and no dream or want was off limits based on the fact that I was female. Sports were very encouraged and college was expected as was being a self sufficient adult.
In the PC world of higher education, I was more active and vocal about my opinions on equal rights for everyone regardless of sex, origin, sexual orientation, color, or favorite ice cream flavor. I was passionate and belonged to every college diversity committee possible – Human Rights Month committee, Black History Month Committee, Women’s History Month Committee, etc. I had a different ribbon on every month.
Moving to Lubbock was a shock to my system in the sense that I found a lot more women that were more passive about their abilities and plans. Sexism seemed to be more rampant in Lubbock than Columbia. Which stunned me at the time…I was a tad self righteous but isn’t that the job of a college student? To be so sure that you are right and you can change the world into realizing that your way is the absolute best way?
My graduate thesis was born out of my love for sports and my love for equality. I was horrified that soccer was not a legitimate sport or opportunity for girls past the age of ten in the eyes of the community. That led to a year long study to find that people in Lubbock believe boys should play football and girls should not. Surprised? I didn’t think so. It is funny to me now being nearly 15 years older and how black and white I viewed things.
TANGENT ALERT: I did want to educate those of you that read this blog. Sex is objective (insert joke here!) - either/or - male or female. Gender is subjective and falls on a continuum of masculine and feminine. Your sex can be male but your gender feminine. Drives me crazy with every form I fill out that asks what gender I am when they really want to know what sex I am. OK OK – maybe in Webster’s they’ll tell you that gender and sex are interchangeable words but with a year of researching the topic I stand by my definitions and differentiations.
Fast forward to present time. I am still a firm believer in avoiding sex roles. That will not change with my son or daughter. I don’t want them to find limits in what they do or where they go based on sex. But as I ponder how I have left Chad with the decisions on what to do in this weather situation, I begin to think that I have let down my college self. I do not feel like an independent woman – I feel like I have left the safety and security of my family completely in the hands of Chad. Not that he can’t handle it – he can – but shouldn’t that be the responsibility of both of us. Not me passively waiting on instructions. Why is it Chad’s role? Is it because he is the man of the house?
What do I rely on Chad for?
- Fixing broken things – toasters, chairs, fence
- Smoke detector maintenance
- Building – IKEA stuff, kids’ swing set
- Changing high light bulbs
- Taking charge in emergency or tense situations
What does Chad rely on me for?
- What to do when the kids are sick – how much medicine, which medicine, when to go to the doctor
- Taking care of birthday cards, parties, gifts
- Calendar maintenance – appointments, school functions, social gatherings
- Kid wardrobe – purchasing new items, outfit choices
I am intrigued as to what lines these tasks were subconsciously split. What is important to know when comparing these lists that they were not discussed. Chad and I have assumed these responsibilities without even having a conversation about it. I mean there are things that I do – laundry – and that he does – pay bills, lawn care – but these are tasks we divided up over ten years ago. We actually made a list of chores and responsibilities and divvied them up. The items outlined above? It just happened.
I believe some of this task assignments are based on skill – Chad is incredibly handy and is a natural problem solver and I have a weird memory that lets dates and people stick forever in my brain (I can tell you the birthdays of my 8th grade class – very bizarre I know) and the duty simply fell to the person that handles it best.
But what about the others? I have no training in the medical field. Chad did not take one class in high risk management. Those fall suspiciously close to sex roles.
And the driving thing. That bugs me – not that I have any high need to drive because I am AOK being the passenger but the fact that I assume I am the passenger is annoying. Is it because we always take Chad’s car?
In the end does it matter? Are we setting some sort of example for my kids about sex roles? I am thinking I am setting a bad example for my kids on far worse things and I do not have the time or energy to worry about these. Or is this how it gets passed down to the next generation? Being passive.
The college idealistic egotistical savior of the world woman in me is screaming in my brain to switch it up – don’t fall into a sexist pattern – don’t teach your kids that it’s ok. But her scream is no longer a roar – more of a faint call drowned out by the mature (hee hee) happy woman’s song that found compromise to make her marriage work and her life flow. While I may have been kicked out of Gloria Steinem’s club, I still have hope for equality and fully supportive of freedom for all regardless of sex or gender.
All of this said by the woman who’s son says you can’t have a pink light saber because it is too girly and Star Wars isn’t for girls and a daughter who won’t go anywhere without a pink tutu and a hair bow. College MK never stood a chance.
Monday, May 23, 2011
Maybe Not a Guffaw but Definitely a Snicker
Day 22: A favorite joke
Clean? Dirty? NSFW?? Choices choices. I spent some time on this one trying to do a creative spin -- a practical joke I have played or been victim to? Nah - I am not a fan of practical jokes because I am more of a "can dish it but can't take it" kind of person. Not proud of it but it's true.
Perhaps naming a political figure. But then I would have to have a political conversation and I am not really a politics kind of gal.
Or something from a movie. Not in the mood to translate a perfectly good comedic scene into a blog.
My kids are very into Knock Knock jokes right now. Truthfully, Zachary is into them and Rylee is trying to be like Zachary. Z's favorite knock knock joke:
Z: Knock, Knock
MK: Who's there?
Z: Boo
MK: Boo who?
Z: (cracking up so hard he can barely get out the punch line) Well you don't have to cry about it!!
Then there is Rylee's version:
Ry: Knock, Knock
MK: Who's there?
Ry: Crying
MK: Crying who?
Ry: Umm no mommy. Don't cry.
Knock knock jokes get really old to me pretty quickly. Especially when they devolve into the ones that don't make sense:
Z: Knock, Knock
MK: Who's there?
Z: Toilet
MK: Toilet who?
Z: The toilet is green. hahahahahaahhahahahahahahahahahaha
When that happens -- the QPMs kick in. In Z's mind the joke has to be done properly -- no deviations so he throws a nonsensical few my way, I throw a few deviations his way:
Z: Knock, Knock
MK: Who is there?
Z: Mom - that isn't right - it's who's there not who is there?
MK: Oh OK.
Z: Knock, Knock
MK: Who's here?
Z: No Mom -- there not here - say there not here
MK: Oh OK
Z: Knock, Knock
MK: There not here
Z: MOMMMMMYYYYYYY
MK: chuckle chuckle
He HATES the banana & orange one - the one you say banana three times and then conclude with orange and "orange you glad I didn't say banana?" Chad usually whips that one out on him. We get the high pitch screechy "You're doing it wrong!"
The ultimate knock knock QPM is blowing his punch line.
Z: Knock, Knock
MK: Who's there?
Z: Boo
MK: Who is Boo?
Z: Mom you're not doing it right. Knock, Knock
MK: Who's there?
Z: Boo
MK: Are you going to tell me not to cry?
Z: Mom!! Knock, Knock
MK: Who's there?
Z: BOO!
MK: Are you trying to scare me?
Z: That is not nice.
MK: I don't think it is nice you are trying to scare me.
End of Knock Knock jokes. Tee hee. Well, I am now sufficiently amused.
And while not my "favorite" a clean, sfw joke just to make sure your funny bone is tickled too:
Little Red Riding Hood is skipping down the road when she sees a big bad wolf crouched down behind a log. 'My, what big eyes you have, Mr. Wolf.'
The wolf jumps up and runs away. Further down the road Little Red Riding Hood sees the wolf again and this time he is crouched behind a bush. 'My what big ears you have, Mr. Wolf.'
Again the wolf jumps up and runs away. About two miles down the road Little Red Riding Hood sees the wolf again and this time he is crouched down behind a rock. 'My what big teeth you have Mr. Wolf.'
With that the wolf jumps up and screams, 'Will you knock it off, I'm trying to poop!'
Clean? Dirty? NSFW?? Choices choices. I spent some time on this one trying to do a creative spin -- a practical joke I have played or been victim to? Nah - I am not a fan of practical jokes because I am more of a "can dish it but can't take it" kind of person. Not proud of it but it's true.
Perhaps naming a political figure. But then I would have to have a political conversation and I am not really a politics kind of gal.
Or something from a movie. Not in the mood to translate a perfectly good comedic scene into a blog.
My kids are very into Knock Knock jokes right now. Truthfully, Zachary is into them and Rylee is trying to be like Zachary. Z's favorite knock knock joke:
Z: Knock, Knock
MK: Who's there?
Z: Boo
MK: Boo who?
Z: (cracking up so hard he can barely get out the punch line) Well you don't have to cry about it!!
Then there is Rylee's version:
Ry: Knock, Knock
MK: Who's there?
Ry: Crying
MK: Crying who?
Ry: Umm no mommy. Don't cry.
Knock knock jokes get really old to me pretty quickly. Especially when they devolve into the ones that don't make sense:
Z: Knock, Knock
MK: Who's there?
Z: Toilet
MK: Toilet who?
Z: The toilet is green. hahahahahaahhahahahahahahahahahaha
When that happens -- the QPMs kick in. In Z's mind the joke has to be done properly -- no deviations so he throws a nonsensical few my way, I throw a few deviations his way:
Z: Knock, Knock
MK: Who is there?
Z: Mom - that isn't right - it's who's there not who is there?
MK: Oh OK.
Z: Knock, Knock
MK: Who's here?
Z: No Mom -- there not here - say there not here
MK: Oh OK
Z: Knock, Knock
MK: There not here
Z: MOMMMMMYYYYYYY
MK: chuckle chuckle
He HATES the banana & orange one - the one you say banana three times and then conclude with orange and "orange you glad I didn't say banana?" Chad usually whips that one out on him. We get the high pitch screechy "You're doing it wrong!"
The ultimate knock knock QPM is blowing his punch line.
Z: Knock, Knock
MK: Who's there?
Z: Boo
MK: Who is Boo?
Z: Mom you're not doing it right. Knock, Knock
MK: Who's there?
Z: Boo
MK: Are you going to tell me not to cry?
Z: Mom!! Knock, Knock
MK: Who's there?
Z: BOO!
MK: Are you trying to scare me?
Z: That is not nice.
MK: I don't think it is nice you are trying to scare me.
End of Knock Knock jokes. Tee hee. Well, I am now sufficiently amused.
And while not my "favorite" a clean, sfw joke just to make sure your funny bone is tickled too:
Little Red Riding Hood is skipping down the road when she sees a big bad wolf crouched down behind a log. 'My, what big eyes you have, Mr. Wolf.'
The wolf jumps up and runs away. Further down the road Little Red Riding Hood sees the wolf again and this time he is crouched behind a bush. 'My what big ears you have, Mr. Wolf.'
Again the wolf jumps up and runs away. About two miles down the road Little Red Riding Hood sees the wolf again and this time he is crouched down behind a rock. 'My what big teeth you have Mr. Wolf.'
With that the wolf jumps up and screams, 'Will you knock it off, I'm trying to poop!'
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Freudian Stew
Day 21: A favorite recipe
My ability to turn the most innocent task into something that is life examining heart aching and head spinning is one for the crazy doctors. I started this post forever ago and then stopped because I made it into something it need not be.
I think I am extra sensitive with the whole cooking thing. I constantly tell anyone who will listen that I don't cook - I microwave. I am famous (well to my kids) for my fast easy kid friendly meals. And it really bothers me. I only have myself to blame - I am the one that started the rumor and I perpetuate it with my comments and actions. When favorite recipe turned up in the post challenge rotation, I froze.
I began running through recipes in my head which not shockingly was blank. There are certain meals I associate with my mom and what she cooked for us when I was little. I already described that drama in a previous post but at least I remember her cooking and having meals - even if they involved vegetables and whole wheat. That led to me questioning what will my kids associate with me and "cooking" - mac n cheese w/ hot dogs? Chicken dinos? (translation chicken nuggets in the shape of dinosaurs) Turkey lunch meat, Kraft cheese slice rolled up in a tortilla with a side of Cheetos and mandarin oranges???
Sad truth is that I don’t cook. But the flip side of it is not that I can’t cook – because I can – it is that I am not a natural cook. I am a rule following cook. If the recipe calls for 1 cup – by golly I put in exactly one cup – no more no less. My mother in law teases me about my measuring. She thinks it is hilarious that I will use a knife blade to make sure that I scrape off any extra ingredient from my measuring cup so that only the required amount goes into the recipe. I do not deviate from what is written – doesn’t call for salt? Then I do not add salt. Chad would.
Chad is a freestyler in the kitchen. It is quite a show and usually an amazing result. He doesn’t crack open a recipe book or have a plan – he just starts pulling stuff out of the fridge and pantry and figures it out as he goes. He’ll throw in spices and oil and this and that and majority of the time dinner is really good. We call these meals his Concoctos. When we first started dating through when Z was young, we had Concocto for dinner often.
Kids and job has kept Chad out of the kitchen most days so it is left to me to heat up dinner. He did give me a four ingredient recipe cookbook for Christmas and it’s great and I have used it but nothing that is a signature dish. One I want the kids to remember I made for them.
I also use the working mom-no time excuse for their fast easy meals. While there really is truth to it, there are also work arounds to make sure my family gets a real meal – I just don’t use those options. I try to leave work everyday by 4:30 (usually ends up around 5pm) to go pick up Ry. Assuming no traffic issues, I get to her about 5:40ish. Then I go and pick up Z – get him about 6ish and we are home by 6:15 pm. Kids are starving and now I need to make dinner. When I cook, we usually do not eat until 7pm or later. If I microwave chicken dinos, dump canned green beans in a bowl, and cut up an apple – walah! Dinner is served in 15 mins.
My boss doesn’t understand. Her family has a home made meal every night of the week. The catch is she spends her entire Sunday cooking – she makes five meals for the week all on Sunday and freezes and refrigerates the food so she only has to heat it up that night. I really REALLY do not want to spending hours creating meals all day on Sunday – so many other fun things to do!
I did go through a phase where I would cook the next day’s dinner after the kids had gone to bed using my boss’ philosophy of just having to heating it up at dinner time. But then I was up late cooking, doing dishes (sort of!), and not having any time to do other things.
Today’s topic was probably intended to be just a random interesting fun non-stressful thing and I let it get in and twist into a self esteem buster. I really think I have a talent for that. I am not the cooking mom I want to be for my kids. I think it sucks that I never will be. I don’t want my grandkids to hear stories of cereal for dinner – I want them to ask for that fun meal their dad used to eat. My mother in law comes in and cooks her famous meatloaf and my kids eat it!! My picky kids eat it!
I am not the domestic crafty mom that can whip up a home made meal with all food groups represented while setting the table with hand crafted napkin rings and fresh bouquet of flowers as a center piece.
Ok now I am just being snarky and bitter. It is just easier some days to find all the ways I wish I was a better mom and person than it is to see what is going well. I just love my family so much and want them to have the best. Some sort of Donna Reed, Claire Huxtable, Elise Keaton, Mrs. C combo. Dear God even Roseanne cooked for her family!! Course Lorelei Gilmore was all about Chinese take out and I think she is kind of cool! And Rory seemed to turn out ok…
Digress, digress, digress.
After that Debbie Downer of an entry do you still want a recipe?? My standby go to recipe for a party is from my Mother in Law – Spinach Dip – super easy and goes with veggies, chips, or even a bread bowl.
1 cup of Mayo
1 cup of Sour Cream
1 pkg frozen spinach
1 can sliced water chestnuts
1 bunch green onions
1 TBSP Lemon Juice
1 TBSP Season Salt
Cook the spinach and mix with all of the other ingredients and you have a dip ready to go. I personally slice the water chestnuts even more so there are more to go around. It will also taste better is you make it and let it sit in the fridge for awhile before serving. Chad usually comes in after it has been in the fridge awhile and adds more lemon juice or season salt to get it just right...freestyling it.
My ability to turn the most innocent task into something that is life examining heart aching and head spinning is one for the crazy doctors. I started this post forever ago and then stopped because I made it into something it need not be.
I think I am extra sensitive with the whole cooking thing. I constantly tell anyone who will listen that I don't cook - I microwave. I am famous (well to my kids) for my fast easy kid friendly meals. And it really bothers me. I only have myself to blame - I am the one that started the rumor and I perpetuate it with my comments and actions. When favorite recipe turned up in the post challenge rotation, I froze.
I began running through recipes in my head which not shockingly was blank. There are certain meals I associate with my mom and what she cooked for us when I was little. I already described that drama in a previous post but at least I remember her cooking and having meals - even if they involved vegetables and whole wheat. That led to me questioning what will my kids associate with me and "cooking" - mac n cheese w/ hot dogs? Chicken dinos? (translation chicken nuggets in the shape of dinosaurs) Turkey lunch meat, Kraft cheese slice rolled up in a tortilla with a side of Cheetos and mandarin oranges???
Sad truth is that I don’t cook. But the flip side of it is not that I can’t cook – because I can – it is that I am not a natural cook. I am a rule following cook. If the recipe calls for 1 cup – by golly I put in exactly one cup – no more no less. My mother in law teases me about my measuring. She thinks it is hilarious that I will use a knife blade to make sure that I scrape off any extra ingredient from my measuring cup so that only the required amount goes into the recipe. I do not deviate from what is written – doesn’t call for salt? Then I do not add salt. Chad would.
Chad is a freestyler in the kitchen. It is quite a show and usually an amazing result. He doesn’t crack open a recipe book or have a plan – he just starts pulling stuff out of the fridge and pantry and figures it out as he goes. He’ll throw in spices and oil and this and that and majority of the time dinner is really good. We call these meals his Concoctos. When we first started dating through when Z was young, we had Concocto for dinner often.
Kids and job has kept Chad out of the kitchen most days so it is left to me to heat up dinner. He did give me a four ingredient recipe cookbook for Christmas and it’s great and I have used it but nothing that is a signature dish. One I want the kids to remember I made for them.
I also use the working mom-no time excuse for their fast easy meals. While there really is truth to it, there are also work arounds to make sure my family gets a real meal – I just don’t use those options. I try to leave work everyday by 4:30 (usually ends up around 5pm) to go pick up Ry. Assuming no traffic issues, I get to her about 5:40ish. Then I go and pick up Z – get him about 6ish and we are home by 6:15 pm. Kids are starving and now I need to make dinner. When I cook, we usually do not eat until 7pm or later. If I microwave chicken dinos, dump canned green beans in a bowl, and cut up an apple – walah! Dinner is served in 15 mins.
My boss doesn’t understand. Her family has a home made meal every night of the week. The catch is she spends her entire Sunday cooking – she makes five meals for the week all on Sunday and freezes and refrigerates the food so she only has to heat it up that night. I really REALLY do not want to spending hours creating meals all day on Sunday – so many other fun things to do!
I did go through a phase where I would cook the next day’s dinner after the kids had gone to bed using my boss’ philosophy of just having to heating it up at dinner time. But then I was up late cooking, doing dishes (sort of!), and not having any time to do other things.
Today’s topic was probably intended to be just a random interesting fun non-stressful thing and I let it get in and twist into a self esteem buster. I really think I have a talent for that. I am not the cooking mom I want to be for my kids. I think it sucks that I never will be. I don’t want my grandkids to hear stories of cereal for dinner – I want them to ask for that fun meal their dad used to eat. My mother in law comes in and cooks her famous meatloaf and my kids eat it!! My picky kids eat it!
I am not the domestic crafty mom that can whip up a home made meal with all food groups represented while setting the table with hand crafted napkin rings and fresh bouquet of flowers as a center piece.
Ok now I am just being snarky and bitter. It is just easier some days to find all the ways I wish I was a better mom and person than it is to see what is going well. I just love my family so much and want them to have the best. Some sort of Donna Reed, Claire Huxtable, Elise Keaton, Mrs. C combo. Dear God even Roseanne cooked for her family!! Course Lorelei Gilmore was all about Chinese take out and I think she is kind of cool! And Rory seemed to turn out ok…
Digress, digress, digress.
After that Debbie Downer of an entry do you still want a recipe?? My standby go to recipe for a party is from my Mother in Law – Spinach Dip – super easy and goes with veggies, chips, or even a bread bowl.
1 cup of Mayo
1 cup of Sour Cream
1 pkg frozen spinach
1 can sliced water chestnuts
1 bunch green onions
1 TBSP Lemon Juice
1 TBSP Season Salt
Cook the spinach and mix with all of the other ingredients and you have a dip ready to go. I personally slice the water chestnuts even more so there are more to go around. It will also taste better is you make it and let it sit in the fridge for awhile before serving. Chad usually comes in after it has been in the fridge awhile and adds more lemon juice or season salt to get it just right...freestyling it.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Thank You, Britney Spears
CMM Day 1: a favorite song
I guess I can’t put it off any longer- it is time that I, Chad, take part in this fantastical journey down memory lane. I hope that it is at least half as beneficial as those that have started before me. Y’all have been an inspiration… Let’s begin!
What first came to mind when I read this topic was “what, favorite song today? Last week?” How limiting… I can’t boil my life’s love of music down to one. I guess I could cheat and look at the play count in the iPod; but I think it is too biased to the present. I think I will ramble a bit; and then insert the influential bands and songs in brackets as I go. Songs with an Asterisk* are ‘finalists’. Z and R- this is not comprehensive; check whatever our current music collection database is. So here goes a scattershot answer:
STARTING OUT
My earliest popular music memory was ‘Elvira” by the Oak Ridge Boys and “Lucille” by Kenny Rogers. Not necessarily of my choosing; but they were played so much around me that I couldn’t help but sing along. Living in a small town put a limit on what I was exposed to. I know my parents had cooler stuff (In-a-gadda-da-vida, baby!) but it didn’t trickle down to me just yet.
Somehow, we all talked our parents into buying ‘Thriller’ by Michael Jackson; and then we all promptly held MJ cassette destructions when the popular train ran out. Being resourceful, I just recorded over mine…
MTV was just being born. When we went into town, I would find ways to take advantage of people that had cable. We would stay up and watch Friday Night Videos [Mr. Mister, Pet Shop Boys, Genesis, Bon Jovi, The Lost Boys Soundtrack, Peter Gabriel, INXS]; that was our only source out in the sticks. I still don’t know how I convinced Mom to buy Van Halen’s Jump; it was pretty racy for elementary school. One that didn’t survive was Wang Chung. Mom made me take it back to Target because the last tract contained every bad word and phrase in the Mom manual. Too bad for her I was already using most of them.
And then there was Dad. His musical influence was very subtle; very sneaky. From forcing us to listen to Evita* and “In the Hall of the Mountain King” on road trips to making Marty Robbins mix tapes [gunfighter ballads era] on the newfangled stereo, he laid a broad foundation that would help me appreciate a wider breadth of music. My favorite contribution of his is Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture* as performed by the London Philharmonic. If we ever got to our destination early, we would sit in the car to let it finish. It didn’t matter if we got weird looks. It was worth it.
Growing up on the edge of the desert had a way of limiting what we were exposed to. County music was ever present; I’d be lying if I said I ignored it. In fact, my first CD was Garth Brooks Ropin the Wind. I spent many a wedding dance in St. Ambrose Hall two-stepping to George, Garth, Randy, and Brooks and Dunn. Out of all of this rose one of my all time favorites: Garth Brook’s "The Dance"*. I’d like for it to be played at my funeral as it expresses my life’s philosophy. Sometimes it is better to leave it up to chance- to allow yourself to get lost, to risk a little… you’ll never know what was around that corner if you don’t. Almost always, it is well worth it. Someday that risk may bring my end; but I bet it was doing something worthwhile.
There was one (count it: 1) radio station in town that didn’t play country. Turns out that KIXY strictly filtered what they played to only the Top Pop. Really? Is that all there is? Time for rebellion! Thanks to Thomas Davis and his mix tapes, I discovered there was a lot more out there [Depeche Mode, New Order, Front 242]. A few occasionally made it through KIXY’s censors: bands such as Information Society, The Farm ["Altogether Now"], Crowded House, “Back to Life” by SoulIISoul, and a little song called "Edelweiss".
Even though Mrs. Ratliff over used him in theater class, the new age music of Ray Lynch stuck with me. His music creates worlds to explore…
I can’t finish the High school years without mentioning "Stand by Me"* by B.B. King. It bound our group of misfits together at the Shake Hands with Your Future camp at TTU. May Bud and the Smokers puff forever more… or just as long as the recording studios remain in malls. Oh. Wait-
COLLEGE
Finally in college, I DID discover that the hometown radio station was limiting. What everyone called old school retro was brand new to me. I could finally dump the mainstream for something interesting. My first roommate was heavily into random music, so that helped whet my appetite. [Toad the Wet Sprocket, The Church, Live (pre-stardom), Wire Train, Romeo+Juliet soundtrack, ] Being in college for the birth of grunge was awesome timing. It felt like we owned it! [NIN, Pearl Jam, Filter, Smashing Pumpkins, Soundgarden, misc Grunge] I luckily plugged into KTXT, Tech’s college radio, just before they pulled the plug on its soul. Back then, the DJ’s went out of their way to find the obscure and inventive so that they could blast it from the bell towers.
It seems each of my college friends had their own musical influence on me. My biggest debt is to Jeromy; he brought so much ‘out there’ stuff to me [Ten Hands, The Juliet Letters, Tank Girl Soundtrack, respect for Talking Heads, beginnings of ska and rockabilly]. Steve gave his Electronica, the beat line of Madonna’s “Justify My love”, and Bjork. Jett brought homespun do-it-yourself heavily influenced by Live and Radiohead. Somehow I stumbled into Cake and Dave Matthews Band from the frat boy trio; as much as I hate to admit it, they did benefit me after all.
Les Miserables came to Lubbock; I was instantly hooked. The movement and the spirit still haunt me to this day. If any of my friends happen to check out early, I think I would play “Empty Chairs at Empty Tables” at the wake. Morbid? Perhaps. But with feeling…
Toward the end of college around 1996, Wheez, Dave, Greg, and I decided to hang out on the deck at the river-front bar in San Angelo. There was this new band playing that was fresh back from Nashville for a new start. The lead man was a bit annoying, but you could tell he was proud of what his boys could do. He finally stepped out of the way and let them shine. As we listened, we were amazed at the depth of talent. When Henry started his instrumental of “Little Wing”, I knew we had stumbled onto something great. Los Lonely Boys was born.
GRADUATION INTO THE WORKING WORLD
After College, I could finally afford the CD’s and concerts that I wanted. I spent a lot of time and money going to Dave Matthews Band concerts. Too bad DMB eventually sold out… Lucky for MK and me, it wasn’t before they released ‘Crush.’ Music was one of the initial binders of MK and I; we need to re-discover that as it brought so much joy to our dating.
I can’t say that I fell into any musical movement during this time, except maybe to resist the mainstreaming of Alternative. So I set out to find something different. [Neil Finn/Finn Brothers, Keane, Nada Surf, Thriftstore Cowboys: "Dirtied Your Knees", "Beneath the Shoes"; Matisyahu: "King Without a Crown" Live, Linkin Park (guilty pleasure), Postal Service, Blue October, Israel Kamakawiwo’ole: "Somewhere Over the Rainbow/What a Wonderful World"]. I think J.Lo had a career around then, I’m not certain.
I got the chance to see Rent- it was an incredible experience for me. It’s expression of pure emotion and commentary on the times resonated deeply with me. Well done.
While I was desperately trying to avoid the mainstream, too often it came to me. MK and I are fans of Josh Groban. “The Prayer” in particular always stirs me. It was a revelation for what I was looking for- it is okay to like something in the mainstream IF the performer has bona fide talent. Lest I forget: The Dixie Chicks… another guilty pleasure that I gained from MK. Thank you, dear…
KIDS
Being a parent, my kids are just a big of an influence on me as I to them. Out of all of their kids shows, I find myself humming "Miss Spider’s Sunny Patch theme", the weekly Phineas and Ferb tune, and anything from Sandra Boynton’s Philadelphia Chickens. The rest are the spawn of the devil. I shall not give them or their purple dinosaur any air time!
RELIGIOUS
Lately- I have come to admit the place that religious music has always played in my life. I am much better for having some in the mix. It has a way of centering me; getting me back on my path.
My fondest memories from Wall include how the St. Ambrose Men’s choir sang “Behold the Lamb of God” on Easter Sundays in the early ‘90’s [arr. Father Bob Dufford, S.J., Univ. of Dayton]. They also introduced me to“Lord, When you Came to the Seashore” and “On Eagles Wings”. I pause for both whenever and wherever they are played.
The Narayan family kept me in church during my early college years with how they sang “One Bread, One Body” in the small church at St. Elizabeth’s in the mid ‘90’s. [Michelle and Britta- is that right?!] I was so sad to see them go…
Raider Awakening brought me Jars of Clay ["World’s Apart"*] , "Love Remains" by Collin Raye, and “Just Wait*” by Blues Traveller. I rediscovered "Pie Jesu"* from Requiem. The CRHP community gave me Casting Crowns ["Lifesong"*, "And now my Lifesong Sings"*, "East to West"] and Third Day ["Revelation"*, "Born Again"]. I can’t think of a better tune for Lent than “Carry my Cross” by Third Day for cleansing and understanding what my Lord went through for me.
Singing O Holy Night. Yep- vanity moment here. Christmas is more special to me when I can perform this song. I love to sing; but I don’t have a consistent voice in order to do it often. Somehow, I rise to the challenge for this song. My favorite memory of this song is from Christmas 2003. MK had miscarried just a day before; so that put us in a funk as we drove to Kansas City. There was a cloud over Christmas that year… until we gathered around Carol and her piano Christmas night to sing carols. There was something healing about singing O Holy Night that night. It didn’t matter if I was out of tune; it was the best it ever sounded to me.
So- my favorite song is every one that ever moved me… the ones that touched my soul and told it to pause and listen… the ones that stood out as a work of art… the ones that were not processed for mass consumption. This brings me to Britney. To Britney Spears and all of the other crappy Pop princes and princesses: thank you for Pop music. Your work made me rebel to find something worth listening to.
I guess I can’t put it off any longer- it is time that I, Chad, take part in this fantastical journey down memory lane. I hope that it is at least half as beneficial as those that have started before me. Y’all have been an inspiration… Let’s begin!
What first came to mind when I read this topic was “what, favorite song today? Last week?” How limiting… I can’t boil my life’s love of music down to one. I guess I could cheat and look at the play count in the iPod; but I think it is too biased to the present. I think I will ramble a bit; and then insert the influential bands and songs in brackets as I go. Songs with an Asterisk* are ‘finalists’. Z and R- this is not comprehensive; check whatever our current music collection database is. So here goes a scattershot answer:
STARTING OUT
My earliest popular music memory was ‘Elvira” by the Oak Ridge Boys and “Lucille” by Kenny Rogers. Not necessarily of my choosing; but they were played so much around me that I couldn’t help but sing along. Living in a small town put a limit on what I was exposed to. I know my parents had cooler stuff (In-a-gadda-da-vida, baby!) but it didn’t trickle down to me just yet.
Somehow, we all talked our parents into buying ‘Thriller’ by Michael Jackson; and then we all promptly held MJ cassette destructions when the popular train ran out. Being resourceful, I just recorded over mine…
MTV was just being born. When we went into town, I would find ways to take advantage of people that had cable. We would stay up and watch Friday Night Videos [Mr. Mister, Pet Shop Boys, Genesis, Bon Jovi, The Lost Boys Soundtrack, Peter Gabriel, INXS]; that was our only source out in the sticks. I still don’t know how I convinced Mom to buy Van Halen’s Jump; it was pretty racy for elementary school. One that didn’t survive was Wang Chung. Mom made me take it back to Target because the last tract contained every bad word and phrase in the Mom manual. Too bad for her I was already using most of them.
And then there was Dad. His musical influence was very subtle; very sneaky. From forcing us to listen to Evita* and “In the Hall of the Mountain King” on road trips to making Marty Robbins mix tapes [gunfighter ballads era] on the newfangled stereo, he laid a broad foundation that would help me appreciate a wider breadth of music. My favorite contribution of his is Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture* as performed by the London Philharmonic. If we ever got to our destination early, we would sit in the car to let it finish. It didn’t matter if we got weird looks. It was worth it.
Growing up on the edge of the desert had a way of limiting what we were exposed to. County music was ever present; I’d be lying if I said I ignored it. In fact, my first CD was Garth Brooks Ropin the Wind. I spent many a wedding dance in St. Ambrose Hall two-stepping to George, Garth, Randy, and Brooks and Dunn. Out of all of this rose one of my all time favorites: Garth Brook’s "The Dance"*. I’d like for it to be played at my funeral as it expresses my life’s philosophy. Sometimes it is better to leave it up to chance- to allow yourself to get lost, to risk a little… you’ll never know what was around that corner if you don’t. Almost always, it is well worth it. Someday that risk may bring my end; but I bet it was doing something worthwhile.
There was one (count it: 1) radio station in town that didn’t play country. Turns out that KIXY strictly filtered what they played to only the Top Pop. Really? Is that all there is? Time for rebellion! Thanks to Thomas Davis and his mix tapes, I discovered there was a lot more out there [Depeche Mode, New Order, Front 242]. A few occasionally made it through KIXY’s censors: bands such as Information Society, The Farm ["Altogether Now"], Crowded House, “Back to Life” by SoulIISoul, and a little song called "Edelweiss".
Even though Mrs. Ratliff over used him in theater class, the new age music of Ray Lynch stuck with me. His music creates worlds to explore…
I can’t finish the High school years without mentioning "Stand by Me"* by B.B. King. It bound our group of misfits together at the Shake Hands with Your Future camp at TTU. May Bud and the Smokers puff forever more… or just as long as the recording studios remain in malls. Oh. Wait-
COLLEGE
Finally in college, I DID discover that the hometown radio station was limiting. What everyone called old school retro was brand new to me. I could finally dump the mainstream for something interesting. My first roommate was heavily into random music, so that helped whet my appetite. [Toad the Wet Sprocket, The Church, Live (pre-stardom), Wire Train, Romeo+Juliet soundtrack, ] Being in college for the birth of grunge was awesome timing. It felt like we owned it! [NIN, Pearl Jam, Filter, Smashing Pumpkins, Soundgarden, misc Grunge] I luckily plugged into KTXT, Tech’s college radio, just before they pulled the plug on its soul. Back then, the DJ’s went out of their way to find the obscure and inventive so that they could blast it from the bell towers.
It seems each of my college friends had their own musical influence on me. My biggest debt is to Jeromy; he brought so much ‘out there’ stuff to me [Ten Hands, The Juliet Letters, Tank Girl Soundtrack, respect for Talking Heads, beginnings of ska and rockabilly]. Steve gave his Electronica, the beat line of Madonna’s “Justify My love”, and Bjork. Jett brought homespun do-it-yourself heavily influenced by Live and Radiohead. Somehow I stumbled into Cake and Dave Matthews Band from the frat boy trio; as much as I hate to admit it, they did benefit me after all.
Les Miserables came to Lubbock; I was instantly hooked. The movement and the spirit still haunt me to this day. If any of my friends happen to check out early, I think I would play “Empty Chairs at Empty Tables” at the wake. Morbid? Perhaps. But with feeling…
Toward the end of college around 1996, Wheez, Dave, Greg, and I decided to hang out on the deck at the river-front bar in San Angelo. There was this new band playing that was fresh back from Nashville for a new start. The lead man was a bit annoying, but you could tell he was proud of what his boys could do. He finally stepped out of the way and let them shine. As we listened, we were amazed at the depth of talent. When Henry started his instrumental of “Little Wing”, I knew we had stumbled onto something great. Los Lonely Boys was born.
GRADUATION INTO THE WORKING WORLD
After College, I could finally afford the CD’s and concerts that I wanted. I spent a lot of time and money going to Dave Matthews Band concerts. Too bad DMB eventually sold out… Lucky for MK and me, it wasn’t before they released ‘Crush.’ Music was one of the initial binders of MK and I; we need to re-discover that as it brought so much joy to our dating.
I can’t say that I fell into any musical movement during this time, except maybe to resist the mainstreaming of Alternative. So I set out to find something different. [Neil Finn/Finn Brothers, Keane, Nada Surf, Thriftstore Cowboys: "Dirtied Your Knees", "Beneath the Shoes"; Matisyahu: "King Without a Crown" Live, Linkin Park (guilty pleasure), Postal Service, Blue October, Israel Kamakawiwo’ole: "Somewhere Over the Rainbow/What a Wonderful World"]. I think J.Lo had a career around then, I’m not certain.
I got the chance to see Rent- it was an incredible experience for me. It’s expression of pure emotion and commentary on the times resonated deeply with me. Well done.
While I was desperately trying to avoid the mainstream, too often it came to me. MK and I are fans of Josh Groban. “The Prayer” in particular always stirs me. It was a revelation for what I was looking for- it is okay to like something in the mainstream IF the performer has bona fide talent. Lest I forget: The Dixie Chicks… another guilty pleasure that I gained from MK. Thank you, dear…
KIDS
Being a parent, my kids are just a big of an influence on me as I to them. Out of all of their kids shows, I find myself humming "Miss Spider’s Sunny Patch theme", the weekly Phineas and Ferb tune, and anything from Sandra Boynton’s Philadelphia Chickens. The rest are the spawn of the devil. I shall not give them or their purple dinosaur any air time!
RELIGIOUS
Lately- I have come to admit the place that religious music has always played in my life. I am much better for having some in the mix. It has a way of centering me; getting me back on my path.
My fondest memories from Wall include how the St. Ambrose Men’s choir sang “Behold the Lamb of God” on Easter Sundays in the early ‘90’s [arr. Father Bob Dufford, S.J., Univ. of Dayton]. They also introduced me to“Lord, When you Came to the Seashore” and “On Eagles Wings”. I pause for both whenever and wherever they are played.
The Narayan family kept me in church during my early college years with how they sang “One Bread, One Body” in the small church at St. Elizabeth’s in the mid ‘90’s. [Michelle and Britta- is that right?!] I was so sad to see them go…
Raider Awakening brought me Jars of Clay ["World’s Apart"*] , "Love Remains" by Collin Raye, and “Just Wait*” by Blues Traveller. I rediscovered "Pie Jesu"* from Requiem. The CRHP community gave me Casting Crowns ["Lifesong"*, "And now my Lifesong Sings"*, "East to West"] and Third Day ["Revelation"*, "Born Again"]. I can’t think of a better tune for Lent than “Carry my Cross” by Third Day for cleansing and understanding what my Lord went through for me.
Singing O Holy Night. Yep- vanity moment here. Christmas is more special to me when I can perform this song. I love to sing; but I don’t have a consistent voice in order to do it often. Somehow, I rise to the challenge for this song. My favorite memory of this song is from Christmas 2003. MK had miscarried just a day before; so that put us in a funk as we drove to Kansas City. There was a cloud over Christmas that year… until we gathered around Carol and her piano Christmas night to sing carols. There was something healing about singing O Holy Night that night. It didn’t matter if I was out of tune; it was the best it ever sounded to me.
So- my favorite song is every one that ever moved me… the ones that touched my soul and told it to pause and listen… the ones that stood out as a work of art… the ones that were not processed for mass consumption. This brings me to Britney. To Britney Spears and all of the other crappy Pop princes and princesses: thank you for Pop music. Your work made me rebel to find something worth listening to.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Catherine Lavin Collins Leonard
My Grandmother Leonard was the oldest of 8 children and came from a 100% Irish Catholic family we affectionately call the Collins Clan. She married James Leonard and had my dad in 1940 and another son Brian in 1946. My grandfather Leonard passed away from complications of pneumonia in 1948. Grandma went to work in the city to support her family. She sent my Uncle Brian to live with her parents in Wilkes Barre, PA and lived in the Oranges in NJ with my dad. She commuted every day into NYC and worked as a secretary. She never remarried -- dad implies that he would scare of any suitors (issues for therapist I am sure) and she found her solice at the Jersey Shore.
In 2004, my Grandmother Leonard (I called her Grandma-ma)turned 90. My dad arranged for a party to celebrate and also created a book for her full of memories and pictures he collected from the family. Yesterday he sent me a copy of what he wrote for the book. I love it - every word. Not just for the memories and stories but for the words with which he concludes the entry. My Grandma-ma passed away February 2007 and my father has not been the same. I think the following explains why:
Memories of Mom
I remember a little boy in a sailor suit with this beautiful woman. The little boy thought the necklace was real jewels.
I remember going to Brooklyn Navy Yard Hospital to see my new cousin. They would not let in the room so I left the waiting area and snuck outside. I then found my way to the window to Aunt Gloria’s room much to their surprise.
I remember Mom trying to console me when I cut through my brand new confirmation suit while trying to remove the tags. Of course, it was the night before the ceremony and no way to repair it properly.
I remember the night I put my wrist through a door window trying to get in the laundry room. It was time to add the bleach to the wash. I walked back to the apartment streaming blood with the jar of Clorox in the other hand. Uncle Bob yelled “Get to the kitchen sink - you are tracking blood on the rug.” We went down the street to the doctor’s. While the doctor was cleaning up the wound, Mom had me practice my Latin. I just become an altar boy. The doctor hit something and it hurt. I then cussed in Italian and Mom said that’s not altar boy Latin.
I remember my friend’s wolf whistling at Mom from the park when I was walking her to confession. They didn’t believe it was my Mother until she verified it. They thought it was some hot babe I had met.
I remember when Mom found a cigarette in my scout uniform after returning from a camping trip. She said something like, “what is this?” I gave a smart ass answer and she hit me on the shoulder. I laughed at her since it did not hurt. She then said, “stand here.” She went and got a wooden hanger and hit me on the collar bone which drove me to the floor. I never laughed at her hitting me after that.
I remember some of the guy’s whistling at my eagle ceremony because Mom’s skirt kept climbing up and showing her slip as she walked up on stage. She was not aware of it until later.
I remember meeting her when she got back from Rome and we all went to early Mass at St. Pat’s with the bottles of wine clinking all the way down the aisle.
I often wondered how she weathered some of the ill winds fate has directed her way. I now know it is because of her faith and her family. I can remember when she used to say her prayers in the bathroom because she could have a light on to read her novenas. That way the light would not disturb Brian and me. The was no door on the bedroom.
I can remember her being so sick she could not get out of bed but she did get up and go to Sunday Mass. The only time I remember her not making it to Mass was after major dental surgery. Her face was so swollen she could not open her eyes. Uncle Bob called the doctor.
As for the Collins family, I am sure one bathroom and eight children help the “bonding”. The Big Depression and World War II had to bring the family closer. There was less to share but enough to go around. I remember Pop saying how lucky he was in that he had a job that paid $8.00 a week. Gram baking pies and bread, making relish and canning vegetables. As for the war, the “boys” were in it and that meant lots of prayers everyday.
I remember in later years at 326, the family praying the rosary after dinner. It seemed such a natural thing to do.
My memories are many but most of all was Mom’s love ever present and enfolding. It warded off the monsters under the bed, guided during the growing years and sustained me during the years in Vietnam.
It is one of life’s drawbacks that you can never give love back in the same quantity as a Mother gives her child. I will be eternally grateful that God was so good to me by letting her be my Mom.
In 2004, my Grandmother Leonard (I called her Grandma-ma)turned 90. My dad arranged for a party to celebrate and also created a book for her full of memories and pictures he collected from the family. Yesterday he sent me a copy of what he wrote for the book. I love it - every word. Not just for the memories and stories but for the words with which he concludes the entry. My Grandma-ma passed away February 2007 and my father has not been the same. I think the following explains why:
Memories of Mom
I remember a little boy in a sailor suit with this beautiful woman. The little boy thought the necklace was real jewels.
I remember going to Brooklyn Navy Yard Hospital to see my new cousin. They would not let in the room so I left the waiting area and snuck outside. I then found my way to the window to Aunt Gloria’s room much to their surprise.
I remember Mom trying to console me when I cut through my brand new confirmation suit while trying to remove the tags. Of course, it was the night before the ceremony and no way to repair it properly.
I remember the night I put my wrist through a door window trying to get in the laundry room. It was time to add the bleach to the wash. I walked back to the apartment streaming blood with the jar of Clorox in the other hand. Uncle Bob yelled “Get to the kitchen sink - you are tracking blood on the rug.” We went down the street to the doctor’s. While the doctor was cleaning up the wound, Mom had me practice my Latin. I just become an altar boy. The doctor hit something and it hurt. I then cussed in Italian and Mom said that’s not altar boy Latin.
I remember my friend’s wolf whistling at Mom from the park when I was walking her to confession. They didn’t believe it was my Mother until she verified it. They thought it was some hot babe I had met.
I remember when Mom found a cigarette in my scout uniform after returning from a camping trip. She said something like, “what is this?” I gave a smart ass answer and she hit me on the shoulder. I laughed at her since it did not hurt. She then said, “stand here.” She went and got a wooden hanger and hit me on the collar bone which drove me to the floor. I never laughed at her hitting me after that.
I remember some of the guy’s whistling at my eagle ceremony because Mom’s skirt kept climbing up and showing her slip as she walked up on stage. She was not aware of it until later.
I remember meeting her when she got back from Rome and we all went to early Mass at St. Pat’s with the bottles of wine clinking all the way down the aisle.
I often wondered how she weathered some of the ill winds fate has directed her way. I now know it is because of her faith and her family. I can remember when she used to say her prayers in the bathroom because she could have a light on to read her novenas. That way the light would not disturb Brian and me. The was no door on the bedroom.
I can remember her being so sick she could not get out of bed but she did get up and go to Sunday Mass. The only time I remember her not making it to Mass was after major dental surgery. Her face was so swollen she could not open her eyes. Uncle Bob called the doctor.
As for the Collins family, I am sure one bathroom and eight children help the “bonding”. The Big Depression and World War II had to bring the family closer. There was less to share but enough to go around. I remember Pop saying how lucky he was in that he had a job that paid $8.00 a week. Gram baking pies and bread, making relish and canning vegetables. As for the war, the “boys” were in it and that meant lots of prayers everyday.
I remember in later years at 326, the family praying the rosary after dinner. It seemed such a natural thing to do.
My memories are many but most of all was Mom’s love ever present and enfolding. It warded off the monsters under the bed, guided during the growing years and sustained me during the years in Vietnam.
It is one of life’s drawbacks that you can never give love back in the same quantity as a Mother gives her child. I will be eternally grateful that God was so good to me by letting her be my Mom.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Elementary Watson
Day 20: A hobby of mine
For some reason the word hobby congers up images of stamp collecting or model making -- both of which are very legitimate hobbies but of absolutely no interest to me. I briefly considered soccer as a hobby but to me soccer is more than a hobby (or at least it used to be). I think I am just hung up on the word hobby. Say it over and over and it is kind of annoying - hobby hobby hobby hobby. I don't collect anything nor have any interest in much that is artsy crafty. I actually looked up the definition to see if I was inspired and found this: an activity or interest pursued for pleasure or relaxation and not as a main occupation.
What does this trash magazine reading (love US Weekly and Glamour), Rom Com Sandra Bullock loving, TV watching, Harry Potter reading girl like to do with her spare time for pleasure? My mind went all sorts of ways with this question but keeping in mind this is for my children I went with the nerdy route.
I do puzzle games. Not the jigsaw kind but the electronic kind - Sudokus, Free Cell, and I am currently addicted to Sherlock. I play to the point of annoying my husband. Sadly the Sherlock game on my phone actually tabulates the total amount of time spent playing the game since I got it and I have played over 25 hours worth of Sherlock on my phone. I got the game in March.
I find it very odd about myself that I am such a non-cerebral person that I get such a kick out of the brainiac challenges. I actually do all the mensa puzzles in the back of the American Way magazine when I fly.
This will shock the heck out of all of you -- On the GRE my strongest score where I only missed a few questions was actually the logic section. I scored frighteningly higher on it than on the other two sections. CRAZY right??!
Please do not mistake that I think I am some genius or have delusions of secretly being a rocket scientist in disguise. I just laugh at the irony of me being such a fan of the fluffy and yet choosing to spend my time working my brain on puzzles.
For some reason the word hobby congers up images of stamp collecting or model making -- both of which are very legitimate hobbies but of absolutely no interest to me. I briefly considered soccer as a hobby but to me soccer is more than a hobby (or at least it used to be). I think I am just hung up on the word hobby. Say it over and over and it is kind of annoying - hobby hobby hobby hobby. I don't collect anything nor have any interest in much that is artsy crafty. I actually looked up the definition to see if I was inspired and found this: an activity or interest pursued for pleasure or relaxation and not as a main occupation.
What does this trash magazine reading (love US Weekly and Glamour), Rom Com Sandra Bullock loving, TV watching, Harry Potter reading girl like to do with her spare time for pleasure? My mind went all sorts of ways with this question but keeping in mind this is for my children I went with the nerdy route.
I do puzzle games. Not the jigsaw kind but the electronic kind - Sudokus, Free Cell, and I am currently addicted to Sherlock. I play to the point of annoying my husband. Sadly the Sherlock game on my phone actually tabulates the total amount of time spent playing the game since I got it and I have played over 25 hours worth of Sherlock on my phone. I got the game in March.
I find it very odd about myself that I am such a non-cerebral person that I get such a kick out of the brainiac challenges. I actually do all the mensa puzzles in the back of the American Way magazine when I fly.
This will shock the heck out of all of you -- On the GRE my strongest score where I only missed a few questions was actually the logic section. I scored frighteningly higher on it than on the other two sections. CRAZY right??!
Please do not mistake that I think I am some genius or have delusions of secretly being a rocket scientist in disguise. I just laugh at the irony of me being such a fan of the fluffy and yet choosing to spend my time working my brain on puzzles.
Monday, April 25, 2011
I Don't Think I Really Answered the Question
Day 19: A fun memory
Truth be told I have been procrastinating on this one. I just can't come up with one. Not that I don't have fun memories -- I do -- lots actually but trying to translate them into a blog AND make them interesting is quite a challenge for me. I am also dreading the true funny story -- REALLY don't know what to do there. OK...lets deal with today's post.
Hmmm...I'll try the random rambling approach that seems to suit me...
My first memory -- riding in the back seat of my Uncle Brian's car with my cousin Becky. He pulled over to pick up a hitch hiker. The hitch hiker was an African American guy with a humongous afro. I remember the afro actually touching the roof of the car. Later in life when I told my uncle and dad this story - they guess I was about 3.
Humilitating childhood memory -- toss up between two:
1. Got up in the middle of my first communion (front row joe) to go to the bathroom which was in the back of the parish hall. The whole congregation thought I was sick.
2. In middle school I had a soccer game on Halloween and at practice before my team decided that we should come made up in Halloween make up. Sadly, I was the only one that showed up in a painted made up face. No one else did.
Memories that make me smile:
- My bi-level haircut in jr high -- really thought I was the stuff
- Fish Fry's during Lent at St. Annes
- My baby pink Jessica McClintock dress and Julia Roberts big hair for Junior Prom -- the prettiest I had felt to that point in my life -- the pictures are hilarious! God bless the 80's
- Working summers at Worlds of Fun
- My 21st birthday...well what little I remember of it...21 shots for a 21 year old girl. No Taco Bell for me that night.
- Float trips down the Buffalo River in AR with my WOF friends
- Raider Awakening...16, 17, 18, & 19...
Not to be to mushy and disgusting but most of the trips I have taken with Chad have been wonderfully fun memories:
- Arizona and Canyon DeChelly - our first out of state trip I think
- Banff, Alberta and eating dinner at 10 pm when the sun is still up
- Waco and the Cotton Palace - Happy Anniversary! :)
- Italy!! Oh and the rest of Europe. Chad got to show me where he lived and show me "his" Italy.
- All our trips to NJ and PA - Espinoza's and Sizzle Pi
- McDonald Observatory - Chad showed me the stars like I have never seen them before
- St. Johns...one of my favorites for more reasons I can list
Soooo back to a fun memory. Really not sure what to put - our family vacation to Sea World and South Padre in 2010, our wedding, going to Silver Dollar City in 1982, going to my Grandma Lee's house, going to college -- I guess it boils down to I am very blessed and have too many to pick from. For that I am grateful.
Truth be told I have been procrastinating on this one. I just can't come up with one. Not that I don't have fun memories -- I do -- lots actually but trying to translate them into a blog AND make them interesting is quite a challenge for me. I am also dreading the true funny story -- REALLY don't know what to do there. OK...lets deal with today's post.
Hmmm...I'll try the random rambling approach that seems to suit me...
My first memory -- riding in the back seat of my Uncle Brian's car with my cousin Becky. He pulled over to pick up a hitch hiker. The hitch hiker was an African American guy with a humongous afro. I remember the afro actually touching the roof of the car. Later in life when I told my uncle and dad this story - they guess I was about 3.
Humilitating childhood memory -- toss up between two:
1. Got up in the middle of my first communion (front row joe) to go to the bathroom which was in the back of the parish hall. The whole congregation thought I was sick.
2. In middle school I had a soccer game on Halloween and at practice before my team decided that we should come made up in Halloween make up. Sadly, I was the only one that showed up in a painted made up face. No one else did.
Memories that make me smile:
- My bi-level haircut in jr high -- really thought I was the stuff
- Fish Fry's during Lent at St. Annes
- My baby pink Jessica McClintock dress and Julia Roberts big hair for Junior Prom -- the prettiest I had felt to that point in my life -- the pictures are hilarious! God bless the 80's
- Working summers at Worlds of Fun
- My 21st birthday...well what little I remember of it...21 shots for a 21 year old girl. No Taco Bell for me that night.
- Float trips down the Buffalo River in AR with my WOF friends
- Raider Awakening...16, 17, 18, & 19...
Not to be to mushy and disgusting but most of the trips I have taken with Chad have been wonderfully fun memories:
- Arizona and Canyon DeChelly - our first out of state trip I think
- Banff, Alberta and eating dinner at 10 pm when the sun is still up
- Waco and the Cotton Palace - Happy Anniversary! :)
- Italy!! Oh and the rest of Europe. Chad got to show me where he lived and show me "his" Italy.
- All our trips to NJ and PA - Espinoza's and Sizzle Pi
- McDonald Observatory - Chad showed me the stars like I have never seen them before
- St. Johns...one of my favorites for more reasons I can list
Soooo back to a fun memory. Really not sure what to put - our family vacation to Sea World and South Padre in 2010, our wedding, going to Silver Dollar City in 1982, going to my Grandma Lee's house, going to college -- I guess it boils down to I am very blessed and have too many to pick from. For that I am grateful.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Aliens vs Midgets
Little bit of drama in the Martin household the week of April 10th. It started like this:
Sunday the 10th:
I have a little earache. Very curious – I don’t recall ever having an earache ever in my life.
Monday the 11th:
I wake up and my ear still hurts but it’s an ear ache – I can handle it. Midday my boss is annoyed telling me it is an ear infection and to go to the doctor. By 3:30 I can’t handle it and go to the doctor. He says – “yes it is an ear infection caused by a viral upper respiratory infection. Nothing to do but manage the pain since it is a virus.” He prescribes some hydrocodone and sends me on my way.
Tuesday the 12th:
Not great. I am chaperoning Z’s field trip to Safety Town (way cool place by the way!!). The hydrocodone doesn’t seem to work so I take ibuprofen on top of it. I some how survive the 2 hr field trip and head home instead of work. The pain has intensified to something I can’t even explain. All I keep thinking is – don’t babies get ear infections all the time? Am I such a wimp that I can’t handle what a baby can??? Get home take more hydrocodone and within 20 mins I start vomiting. YAY. So Tuesday afternoon is more than hell for me – my ear hurts so bad nothing will help – not laying down, not standing up, not sitting down, not being still, not moving around and I am still throwing up. I believe I actually got delirious from the pain.
I throw in the towel about 7pm and make Chad take me to the ER. He packs up the kids and me and off we go – if being at home hurt – the car ride was the hell express – every bump, turn, sound – agonizing. We get to the hospital and I am so close to relief that it feels like hours before they see me. At some point LuLu and Damon pick the kids up (in all seriousness – Leigh Anne I have no words to truly express how grateful I am that you came without a pause. THANK YOU – I love you!!)
The PA comes in asks what the problem is and then looks in my ear – he then tugs and says does this hurt and pokes and says does this hurt – is he kidding????? I am in my freakin pajamas, smelling like vomit, weeping from the pain – YES it hurts – quit touching my ear! He then asks “when did the fever start?” I can only imagine the look I gave him at that point. I say “I have a fever?” He said it was 101 and when did it start. I don’t think I cussed at him out loud but in mind I screamed “My head is going to explode – I have spent the last 8 hours vomiting – you really think I stopped to take my F’n temperature??????”
Blah blah blah…so the nurse gives me an IV (after only two attempts which is impressive since I was so dehydrated) and gives me some Demerol. OOoooohh I like me some Demerol. Seriously within seconds my ear pain was gone and I just wanted to sleep. So I got an IV of antibiotics because the ER doc says I have swimmer’s ear (really???) and a middle ear infection and it is bacterial not viral and about an hour later another shot of the Demerol. I am sent home.
Wednesday the 13th:
We get home about 1:30 am with new drugs and my ear is now leaking fluid. Yes gross. I take the medicine and do not awake (other than for potty and medication breaks) until 4:00 pm Thursday.
Thursday the 14th:
My ear is still literally dripping yellow grossness but I feel so much better that I tell God I will walk around for the rest of my life with a cotton ball in my ear to catch the goo if I do not ever have to feel like that again.
Friday the 15th:
Go to work – still dripping but feeling OK. Go to the ENT for a follow up and he looks in and says oh you busted your ear drum – that is why you are leaking. He said that it would close up soon and all will be sunshine and rainbows. And the leaking did stop on Monday the 18th.
So I tell you this VERRRRRY long story for two reasons:
1. To justify why I haven’t blogged in a while
2.Because the IV left an almost perfectly 2” x 2” square bruise on the middle of my forearm which is the REAL introduction to this blog.
The WEIRDEST stuff happens to aboynamedstu. I refer to Stuart a lot in this blog for many reasons, one of which is I admire his style and blog, and another is because the craziest things happen in his life. He recently had a post that involved a cashier calling his friend a very inappropriate name and the situation that followed still makes me shake my head. (please read it if you get the chance Boyz in the Hood ) If I didn’t know better, I would say he makes it up but the best part of it all is that he doesn’t!!!!
Anyway, the post lead me to comment to Stuart that he really has the funniest/bizarre/craziest stuff happen in his world. He responded saying that crazy stuff happens to all of us but he just knows how to mine it and retell it. Which I will agree with him but only to a point.
I questioned myself - do I keep my head down and miss the funniest/bizarre/craziest that happens around me? Do I just need to pay attention more to my surroundings and I’ll see how it happens to me too? Do I just need to shop in Richardson?
So I did a little experiment. This bruise on my arm really is odd. It is seriously almost a perfect square. I start creating stories in my head of what weird event could have caused this bruise. I want to make it completely outlandish. I started going down the alien route – I had been abducted by aliens and I fought against them so much they had to use a weird restraint and it left a bruise. But I couldn’t get the story to flow.
Friday morning at work, I was refilling my water bottle when CoWorker A came in, saw the bruise, and asked what happened. I was so excited here was my chance – I looked down at the bruise and started “Well, as you know on Wed nights I referee midget wrestling…” when CoWorker B (who knew the truth) came in, saw me pointing to my bruise, and said “isn’t that the weirdest bruise – maybe it was the IV tape? You could be allergic” and blew my story. CoWorker A was briefly confused and then said oh the ear thing, etc.
I was disappointed. For the rest of the weekend, I was as obvious about the bruise as I could be. I made sure every cashier saw it and every parent at the soccer game saw it and no one asked about it.
I received opportunity number 2 on Monday. We were having issues with our ID cards and the security system so I was stuck briefly on an elevator with CoWorker C. She said “OMG – what on earth happened to your arm??” With a straight face I said, “I was refereeing midget wrestling this weekend, I do it to make some extra cash, and one of the midgets got out of control and accidentally took me down and stepped on me with his boot heel. It was wild.”
She did nothing. Not a smile or laugh, not a “are you crazy?” look, not even a “you don’t have to be a rude because I asked bitch!” look. The elevators opened and she started with “this is so weird that our cards don’t work – should we go to security?”
I told Chad about it that night. He thought it was funny that I actually told the story and even more hilarious that I would use the un-pc word midget rather than little person (little person wrestling doesn’t sound right) and he figures CoWorker C thinks I am rude.
My point is this:
I truly believe that had this scenario been played out in Stuart’s life that he would have gotten some reaction out of someone. I realize that it can even be awkward to ask someone about a random bruise especially if you don’t know them but I bet if Stuart had it – 30 people would have asked him “WTH?”
I am saddened that my little non-scientific experiment didn’t yield the results I had hoped to. Oh well. I will just keep reading Stuart’s blog and enjoying the entertainment that is his life.
You know though, my bruise is still kind of visible – maybe I just need to head to Richardson and do a little shopping with my arm up!
Thursday, April 7, 2011
I Don't Remember Z This Tiny
Day 18: A baby photo
I have spent the last hour going through all of our 2005 and 2006 photos searching for just the right one of Z. While I didn't know what photo I would post, I did know I wanted it to be of Zachary. Chad said I should post one of me but I really don't have anything to say about the picture other than the date. If I post one of Z, I have lots to say. I got completely sucked in to the pictures (Chad sat with me for awhile) and we laughed and got sentimental. After an hour I just decided since I make up the rules for this challenge, I will post more than one.
Over six years ago, this beautiful amazing little soul was given as a gift to our family:
MK meeting Z for the first time
No books, no classes, no advice can prepare you for that moment - becoming a parent. Cliche but true. I was overwhelmed with love, worry, adoration, fear, responsibility, and awe. Truth be told while these emotions do ebb and flow - I still have each of them when I look at my kids.
I was such a mess with Z. It is ALMOST funny thinking back on it and of course seeing the pictures tonight brought it all back:
* The car ride home from the hospital - I sat in the back seat in case he might need something during the brief ride home and Chad didn't drive one mile over the speed limit.
* His bassinet was in the "far" corner of our bedroom. I was worried I wouldn't hear him if there was a problem or if he stopped breathing. So after his first night at home, I moved his bassinet to be flush against my side of the bed. My head could pop up and seem him as often as I wanted.
* His first bath - OMG -- how did he survive?! Chad - don't get the embilical cord wet! Chad - he's cold cover him up! Chad - you didn't wash his neck rolls! Chad - did you get all the soap rinsed? Zachary screamed the entire time which freaked me out. The pictures are only funny now then I was horrified.
* My mom stayed with us the first week he was born and was sweet enough to make us dinner so we could have date night in our kitchen while she babysat in the living room. I actually made my mother put the monitor base next to Zachary while I had the receiver in the kitchen. Our house was 1800 sq ft and the living room was right off the kitchen -- I am sure I insulted my mom with that request.
* Nursing. Ugh. What a production. I made my husband shell over lots of money for a lactation consultant. My mom even paid for one visit. Z didn't latch properly so I was trying to nurse for about ten minutes a feeding, then when he didn't latch I would give him a bottle, burp him, put him down, and then pump for 20 mins. It was emotionally exhausting. I was hysterical about it. I even poured water into unused diapers, heated them in the microwave, and put them on my breasts to encourage milk production. Seriously. By the way not my idea -- it was from the lacation consultant. Finally at 5 1/2 weeks, he got it. And my life grew a heck of a lot easier.
* When my mat leave was over, I told Chad I didn't think I could go back to work. How could I let someone else raise my child? What kind of mother would I be if I put this life in the care of another? I told Chad we had to come up with a plan. He talked me off the ledge and said that why don't we plan for me to go back now and when kiddo #2 came along, I could stay at home with both of them. The distraction worked. I would have been the suckiest of all sucky stay at home moms. I applaud SAHMs - I think they are wonderful but I am not one of them.
The difference between Zachary's birth and coming home and Rylee's is quite amusing:
* Rode in the front seat home
* OK she did sleep next to my bed still
* While she did cry too during her first bath, I am actually smiling and laughing in the pictures. No looks of horror on my face
* We actually LEFT the house for a date - See ya' MiMi! Good luck with those kids!
* She latched first thing in the recovery room at the hospital
* Never even crossed my mind once that I wanted to stay at home -- suckiest of sucky remember?
This post didn't exactly go as I thought. I really wanted to tell the story of Z's birth but it really should come from Chad's perspective. I had too many drugs -- everything was la-la and fuzzy for me.
Rather than A Baby Photo here are Some Baby Photos:
Those are stork bites on his eye lids. They faded but you could still see them until he was about four when he would get hot or cry or mad.
Chad took a series of photos in rapid succession so if you flip through them really fast it looks like they are moving. This photo is one in the series.
Adore this photo -- which it hadn't turned out so dark and grainy. My sweet Martin men taking a nap. LOVE IT.
This photo was my stock photo for awhile sending to anyone I knew whether they wanted to see it or not. I even sent it to the hospital (yes I was little coo-coo)with a thank you note to the nursing staff.
Here is the baby photo - Introducing Zachary James Martin, born at 9:32 am on Thursday, February 17, 2005. Weighing 7lbs 10oz and 20" long. Healthy boy and proud parents.
We still are.
I have spent the last hour going through all of our 2005 and 2006 photos searching for just the right one of Z. While I didn't know what photo I would post, I did know I wanted it to be of Zachary. Chad said I should post one of me but I really don't have anything to say about the picture other than the date. If I post one of Z, I have lots to say. I got completely sucked in to the pictures (Chad sat with me for awhile) and we laughed and got sentimental. After an hour I just decided since I make up the rules for this challenge, I will post more than one.
Over six years ago, this beautiful amazing little soul was given as a gift to our family:
MK meeting Z for the first time
No books, no classes, no advice can prepare you for that moment - becoming a parent. Cliche but true. I was overwhelmed with love, worry, adoration, fear, responsibility, and awe. Truth be told while these emotions do ebb and flow - I still have each of them when I look at my kids.
I was such a mess with Z. It is ALMOST funny thinking back on it and of course seeing the pictures tonight brought it all back:
* The car ride home from the hospital - I sat in the back seat in case he might need something during the brief ride home and Chad didn't drive one mile over the speed limit.
* His bassinet was in the "far" corner of our bedroom. I was worried I wouldn't hear him if there was a problem or if he stopped breathing. So after his first night at home, I moved his bassinet to be flush against my side of the bed. My head could pop up and seem him as often as I wanted.
* His first bath - OMG -- how did he survive?! Chad - don't get the embilical cord wet! Chad - he's cold cover him up! Chad - you didn't wash his neck rolls! Chad - did you get all the soap rinsed? Zachary screamed the entire time which freaked me out. The pictures are only funny now then I was horrified.
* My mom stayed with us the first week he was born and was sweet enough to make us dinner so we could have date night in our kitchen while she babysat in the living room. I actually made my mother put the monitor base next to Zachary while I had the receiver in the kitchen. Our house was 1800 sq ft and the living room was right off the kitchen -- I am sure I insulted my mom with that request.
* Nursing. Ugh. What a production. I made my husband shell over lots of money for a lactation consultant. My mom even paid for one visit. Z didn't latch properly so I was trying to nurse for about ten minutes a feeding, then when he didn't latch I would give him a bottle, burp him, put him down, and then pump for 20 mins. It was emotionally exhausting. I was hysterical about it. I even poured water into unused diapers, heated them in the microwave, and put them on my breasts to encourage milk production. Seriously. By the way not my idea -- it was from the lacation consultant. Finally at 5 1/2 weeks, he got it. And my life grew a heck of a lot easier.
* When my mat leave was over, I told Chad I didn't think I could go back to work. How could I let someone else raise my child? What kind of mother would I be if I put this life in the care of another? I told Chad we had to come up with a plan. He talked me off the ledge and said that why don't we plan for me to go back now and when kiddo #2 came along, I could stay at home with both of them. The distraction worked. I would have been the suckiest of all sucky stay at home moms. I applaud SAHMs - I think they are wonderful but I am not one of them.
The difference between Zachary's birth and coming home and Rylee's is quite amusing:
* Rode in the front seat home
* OK she did sleep next to my bed still
* While she did cry too during her first bath, I am actually smiling and laughing in the pictures. No looks of horror on my face
* We actually LEFT the house for a date - See ya' MiMi! Good luck with those kids!
* She latched first thing in the recovery room at the hospital
* Never even crossed my mind once that I wanted to stay at home -- suckiest of sucky remember?
This post didn't exactly go as I thought. I really wanted to tell the story of Z's birth but it really should come from Chad's perspective. I had too many drugs -- everything was la-la and fuzzy for me.
Rather than A Baby Photo here are Some Baby Photos:
Those are stork bites on his eye lids. They faded but you could still see them until he was about four when he would get hot or cry or mad.
Chad took a series of photos in rapid succession so if you flip through them really fast it looks like they are moving. This photo is one in the series.
Adore this photo -- which it hadn't turned out so dark and grainy. My sweet Martin men taking a nap. LOVE IT.
This photo was my stock photo for awhile sending to anyone I knew whether they wanted to see it or not. I even sent it to the hospital (yes I was little coo-coo)with a thank you note to the nursing staff.
Here is the baby photo - Introducing Zachary James Martin, born at 9:32 am on Thursday, February 17, 2005. Weighing 7lbs 10oz and 20" long. Healthy boy and proud parents.
We still are.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
MK's Fam - aren't we cute?!
Day 17: A photo of my family
This picture is a RIOT! I am thinking I am six or seven -- that makes Jamey two or three which means the year is about 1978 or 1979. In turn my mom is 28/29 (10 years younger than I am now) and my dad is 38/39 - my age right now. It is kind of weird for me in that Marty McFly kind of way. Realizing my dad in my current age in the photo and trying to imagine what was going on in his brain. He certainly seemed to the 1st grader me much more mature and responsible then than I feel right now. And my mom?? She hadn't even turned 30 yet - I was living a very different life than hers when I was 28!
And here we are at another example of why this blog is important. Someday when the kids are older (like out of the house older not teenagers older) they will read this blog and hopefully have a better understanding of their parents. They can see us more than rule makers, disciplinarians, and dream killers -- they will know we have fears, doubts, and want them to be happy. They will know that we loved them with a passion and intensity that comes from parents. They will also see we are very human. It is a shocking discovery when that happens but I am hoping their aha moment brings them understanding.
So dearest Rylee and Zachary -- here is our sweet little family:
This is from Father's Day 2010 in the traditional Father's Day pose at Prince of Peace except I am actually in this photo - usually I am not. I am 37, Daddy is 36, Z is 5 and Rylee is not quite 2. I love our family.
The juxtaposition of the two photos is mind blowing for me -- I realize not for anyone else but the girl in photo 1 and the woman in photo 2 can not possibly be the same person. It is wild how I became the parent in the photo. At least the clothes in the Martin family photo look good.
This picture is a RIOT! I am thinking I am six or seven -- that makes Jamey two or three which means the year is about 1978 or 1979. In turn my mom is 28/29 (10 years younger than I am now) and my dad is 38/39 - my age right now. It is kind of weird for me in that Marty McFly kind of way. Realizing my dad in my current age in the photo and trying to imagine what was going on in his brain. He certainly seemed to the 1st grader me much more mature and responsible then than I feel right now. And my mom?? She hadn't even turned 30 yet - I was living a very different life than hers when I was 28!
And here we are at another example of why this blog is important. Someday when the kids are older (like out of the house older not teenagers older) they will read this blog and hopefully have a better understanding of their parents. They can see us more than rule makers, disciplinarians, and dream killers -- they will know we have fears, doubts, and want them to be happy. They will know that we loved them with a passion and intensity that comes from parents. They will also see we are very human. It is a shocking discovery when that happens but I am hoping their aha moment brings them understanding.
So dearest Rylee and Zachary -- here is our sweet little family:
This is from Father's Day 2010 in the traditional Father's Day pose at Prince of Peace except I am actually in this photo - usually I am not. I am 37, Daddy is 36, Z is 5 and Rylee is not quite 2. I love our family.
The juxtaposition of the two photos is mind blowing for me -- I realize not for anyone else but the girl in photo 1 and the woman in photo 2 can not possibly be the same person. It is wild how I became the parent in the photo. At least the clothes in the Martin family photo look good.
MK's Food Ramblings
Day 16: A favorite food
I have been procrastinating on this entry. Favorite food??? I realize that the point of the exercise is creativity and there really is no right or wrong way to answer the challenge but favorite food? Can there be an interesting favorite food blog post? OK yes there can be -- just not written by me.
I even discussed this with Chad ahead of time which I haven't done with any other challenge posts (I let him be as surprised as you!) because I was annoyed. Food is very situational and to pick one of my favorites seems kind of boring and impossible. Whether picking a very specific item Sizzle Pi T-Rex pizza or deciding between Mexican and Indian - my tastes change based on the day and the moment.
I looked at Chad and scrunched my face and used a weird voice and said "one of my favorite foods is buttercream icing and vanilla cake. Now let the oooing and ahhing over the interesting blog post begin." I sensed he was not amused and I said "I can't think of a funny post related to a favorite food." He said it didn't have to be funny. I said but it should be interesting.
He suggested trying nostalgia. OK...memories of food...hhhmmm...Peach Nehi comes to mind. Loved Peach Nehi. Makes me think of summers with my aunt in Claremore, OK. My mom made whole wheat pizza most every Friday growing up -- I liked that. My mom also made fried spaghetti that was definitely a favorite.
But my childhood is tainted by the heath food kick my mom went on when I was little. I do not remember when it actually started or when it stopped but it feels like my whole childhood was about no sugar, no salt, no white flour, and did I say no sugar??? We ate NutriGrain cereal for breakfast i.e. bran flakes, had GNC peanut butter on whole wheat bread for lunch, carob covered bananas for snack, and salad with radishes for dinner. If you don't know what GNC peanut butter is let me enlighten you. It is smashed peanuts and that is about it. When you open the container there is about an inch of oil at the top and you have to stir it before you use it. And you don't know what carob is? Fake chocolate. Fake not sweet chocolate. Gross fake not sweet chocolate.
Our Christmas stockings had oranges and apples. Every kid's Christmas dream.
When I would stay the night with my friend Kat, I would use any excuse to eat cereal there -- she had ALL the good ones - Lucky Charms, Fruit Loops, Cookie Crisp. Even more pathetic, I would give my little brother money and he would go to the store near our house and buy sugar cereals. We would hide it under my bed so my mom wouldn't find it.
I remember only two trips to McDonalds from my childhood - once in the summer before first grade for my party and once in 5th grade for a field trip. However, eating out was very important to my dad. He felt it forced Jamey and me to learn how to behave in public. We went to nicer places like this restaurant called Plums down the road or another restaurant on a hill - I thought it was called Shadow Mountain but I think that is actually a rehab facility -- where I have a vivid memory of Jamey just tilting his head back and going to sleep - mouth open and all. I dreaded these nights. They took forever and the adults never talked to the kids. I would get so excited when the coffee arrived because I knew it meant dinner was almost over and we could go home.
My mom also packed green bell peppers in my lunch. Come on Mom! What on earth were you thinking??? They made my locker stink so badly every day and they were warm and wilty by lunch time -- do you really think I ate them?? You would have thought I would have learned to pull them out before school and throw them away instead I just moved all my other stuff in to another locker and kept my lunch in the original.
When I was on my own after college, I actually started buying jars of creamy peanut butter and having a REAL PB&J as often as possible. Not because I was poor but because Jif creamy peanut butter tasted like heaven. One of my roommates was put off by my peanut butter habit but she drank pickle juice with salt so I feel like there was no room for judging.
I am not a big seafood gal either. What sealed the deal is when we were in Italy the summer of 2004 we stopped in the Cinque Terre area and had dinner in a beautiful Italian coast town. Being on the coast, the dishes were all seafood. I must also mention I was about 8 weeks pregnant and nauseous hit randomly but hard. So we order our meals and they waiter sets them in front of us -- Chad's fish and my prawns were not just whole but had the eyeballs and antenna still attached. Oh my gosh I am gagging just writing about this. UGH UGH UGH -- Chad is lucky I did not vomit on his shoes. I just haven't been able to really do seafood since. I also don't eat Subway -- not because of fish but because of the same trip and morning sickness -- ick!
It seems I have turned this into Day 16: MK's Least Favorite Food. Let me see if I can salvage this post. Other than seafood, there isn't a particular type of food I stay away from other than maybe exotic -- I haven't eaten bugs or brains or cow's liver and have no need to. I craved cookies and cream shakes when pregnant with Zachary and store bought in the gallon jug chocolate milk with Rylee. Still can do the shakes but I don't care for chocolate milk. OK OK OK -- trying to stay with the positive:
I could go with the cheesy answer - one of my favorite foods is anything I eat with my family or anything Chad cooks but that really isn't the mood I am in tonight.
Let's try this - I love food and despite my long list of dislikes, I really am flexible. I have a humongous sweet tooth and love breakfast for dinner. Spinach dip and chips and queso are my favorite snacks. I love food from the east coast (talking to you Espinozas) everything bagel w/ egg and cheese, taylor ham, jersey subs, Texas wieners, Sizzle Pi, and disco fries. But can you beat TexMex?? That is a tough call. Tell you what, the next time you want to grab dinner together, I would love to go but you have to pick the place.
I have been procrastinating on this entry. Favorite food??? I realize that the point of the exercise is creativity and there really is no right or wrong way to answer the challenge but favorite food? Can there be an interesting favorite food blog post? OK yes there can be -- just not written by me.
I even discussed this with Chad ahead of time which I haven't done with any other challenge posts (I let him be as surprised as you!) because I was annoyed. Food is very situational and to pick one of my favorites seems kind of boring and impossible. Whether picking a very specific item Sizzle Pi T-Rex pizza or deciding between Mexican and Indian - my tastes change based on the day and the moment.
I looked at Chad and scrunched my face and used a weird voice and said "one of my favorite foods is buttercream icing and vanilla cake. Now let the oooing and ahhing over the interesting blog post begin." I sensed he was not amused and I said "I can't think of a funny post related to a favorite food." He said it didn't have to be funny. I said but it should be interesting.
He suggested trying nostalgia. OK...memories of food...hhhmmm...Peach Nehi comes to mind. Loved Peach Nehi. Makes me think of summers with my aunt in Claremore, OK. My mom made whole wheat pizza most every Friday growing up -- I liked that. My mom also made fried spaghetti that was definitely a favorite.
But my childhood is tainted by the heath food kick my mom went on when I was little. I do not remember when it actually started or when it stopped but it feels like my whole childhood was about no sugar, no salt, no white flour, and did I say no sugar??? We ate NutriGrain cereal for breakfast i.e. bran flakes, had GNC peanut butter on whole wheat bread for lunch, carob covered bananas for snack, and salad with radishes for dinner. If you don't know what GNC peanut butter is let me enlighten you. It is smashed peanuts and that is about it. When you open the container there is about an inch of oil at the top and you have to stir it before you use it. And you don't know what carob is? Fake chocolate. Fake not sweet chocolate. Gross fake not sweet chocolate.
Our Christmas stockings had oranges and apples. Every kid's Christmas dream.
When I would stay the night with my friend Kat, I would use any excuse to eat cereal there -- she had ALL the good ones - Lucky Charms, Fruit Loops, Cookie Crisp. Even more pathetic, I would give my little brother money and he would go to the store near our house and buy sugar cereals. We would hide it under my bed so my mom wouldn't find it.
I remember only two trips to McDonalds from my childhood - once in the summer before first grade for my party and once in 5th grade for a field trip. However, eating out was very important to my dad. He felt it forced Jamey and me to learn how to behave in public. We went to nicer places like this restaurant called Plums down the road or another restaurant on a hill - I thought it was called Shadow Mountain but I think that is actually a rehab facility -- where I have a vivid memory of Jamey just tilting his head back and going to sleep - mouth open and all. I dreaded these nights. They took forever and the adults never talked to the kids. I would get so excited when the coffee arrived because I knew it meant dinner was almost over and we could go home.
My mom also packed green bell peppers in my lunch. Come on Mom! What on earth were you thinking??? They made my locker stink so badly every day and they were warm and wilty by lunch time -- do you really think I ate them?? You would have thought I would have learned to pull them out before school and throw them away instead I just moved all my other stuff in to another locker and kept my lunch in the original.
When I was on my own after college, I actually started buying jars of creamy peanut butter and having a REAL PB&J as often as possible. Not because I was poor but because Jif creamy peanut butter tasted like heaven. One of my roommates was put off by my peanut butter habit but she drank pickle juice with salt so I feel like there was no room for judging.
I am not a big seafood gal either. What sealed the deal is when we were in Italy the summer of 2004 we stopped in the Cinque Terre area and had dinner in a beautiful Italian coast town. Being on the coast, the dishes were all seafood. I must also mention I was about 8 weeks pregnant and nauseous hit randomly but hard. So we order our meals and they waiter sets them in front of us -- Chad's fish and my prawns were not just whole but had the eyeballs and antenna still attached. Oh my gosh I am gagging just writing about this. UGH UGH UGH -- Chad is lucky I did not vomit on his shoes. I just haven't been able to really do seafood since. I also don't eat Subway -- not because of fish but because of the same trip and morning sickness -- ick!
It seems I have turned this into Day 16: MK's Least Favorite Food. Let me see if I can salvage this post. Other than seafood, there isn't a particular type of food I stay away from other than maybe exotic -- I haven't eaten bugs or brains or cow's liver and have no need to. I craved cookies and cream shakes when pregnant with Zachary and store bought in the gallon jug chocolate milk with Rylee. Still can do the shakes but I don't care for chocolate milk. OK OK OK -- trying to stay with the positive:
I could go with the cheesy answer - one of my favorite foods is anything I eat with my family or anything Chad cooks but that really isn't the mood I am in tonight.
Let's try this - I love food and despite my long list of dislikes, I really am flexible. I have a humongous sweet tooth and love breakfast for dinner. Spinach dip and chips and queso are my favorite snacks. I love food from the east coast (talking to you Espinozas) everything bagel w/ egg and cheese, taylor ham, jersey subs, Texas wieners, Sizzle Pi, and disco fries. But can you beat TexMex?? That is a tough call. Tell you what, the next time you want to grab dinner together, I would love to go but you have to pick the place.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
It is my song...
And hide the rule book throw it in the waste
Look strong
Like you belong cause you do belong
Whether right or wrong you belong
I'm on your side if you fail at least you tried
To keep your aching celebrating wonder making heart alive
Yeah and pride don't keep it all inside
Don't keep your aching celebrating wonder making heart alone
Write you own song
So here's a preview shove it under old-new
Or call it rock or pop or Bach or fuck
Goddamn where did we go wrong
Now there's a catergory for every song
Yeah we only want to sing when we want to
Yeah we only want a dream we can flaunt to
Yeah we only want to fly by the side making love to the rhythm be a Jekyll and a Hyde
Yeah we only want a field we can run through
Yeah we only want a beat we can drum to
Yeah we only want to fly by the side making love to the rhythm be a Jekyll and a Hyde
Gonna wake up strong ya we're all gonna wake up strong...
Justin Furstenfeld
CMM - thanks for doing this with me...life - all of it...never was a luckier girl
Look strong
Like you belong cause you do belong
Whether right or wrong you belong
I'm on your side if you fail at least you tried
To keep your aching celebrating wonder making heart alive
Yeah and pride don't keep it all inside
Don't keep your aching celebrating wonder making heart alone
Write you own song
So here's a preview shove it under old-new
Or call it rock or pop or Bach or fuck
Goddamn where did we go wrong
Now there's a catergory for every song
Yeah we only want to sing when we want to
Yeah we only want a dream we can flaunt to
Yeah we only want to fly by the side making love to the rhythm be a Jekyll and a Hyde
Yeah we only want a field we can run through
Yeah we only want a beat we can drum to
Yeah we only want to fly by the side making love to the rhythm be a Jekyll and a Hyde
Gonna wake up strong ya we're all gonna wake up strong...
Justin Furstenfeld
CMM - thanks for doing this with me...life - all of it...never was a luckier girl
Monday, April 4, 2011
But Angelina Jolie Could Turn Me into a Lesbian
Day 15: My celebrity crush
I already answered this one in the beginning of the challenge. My celebrity crush is Sandra Bullock. I would love to hang out with her for the weekend - sit on her porch in Austin - drink a beer and chill the whole time.
Seeing that I have an aversion to short blogs, I will continue with: I am a legitimate four degrees away from Sandra Bullock. In October of 2009, I met and became friends with someone whose son is good friends with one of Sandra's long time friends. I was so giddy when I figured that out -- I call my friend LK and she can call her son and then he makes a call and then one more call and there is my crush.
I would NEVER EVER EVER in a million years even jokingly say anything to LK. I have been overly sensitive (shocking) about her very publicly known son. I try to avoid talking about him in fact which is stupid because I ask my other friends about their kids but this just seems different.
However at one girl's night gathering, after a couple of glasses of prosecco, mention to LK that I heard on the radio she was going to be a grandma again. She laughed and said she was excited but please don't ask the other question. I had no clue what she was talking about and she said the "marriage" question - she didn't know if he was going to get married. I told I didn't care but that it felt weird to hear this news on the radio and then see her son on People magazine or US weekly. She was so gracious and said she was used to it. I felt like a total stupid dork.
Since that evening, I have never brought it up again. I ask about her grandkids and her other "bonus" kids (her words) but not him. Ridiculous I know -- over analyzing I know but I won't do it. I felt cheezy and trashy while I am sure she didn't give it another thought.
Unless there is more prosecco involved then I may mention Sandra.
I already answered this one in the beginning of the challenge. My celebrity crush is Sandra Bullock. I would love to hang out with her for the weekend - sit on her porch in Austin - drink a beer and chill the whole time.
Seeing that I have an aversion to short blogs, I will continue with: I am a legitimate four degrees away from Sandra Bullock. In October of 2009, I met and became friends with someone whose son is good friends with one of Sandra's long time friends. I was so giddy when I figured that out -- I call my friend LK and she can call her son and then he makes a call and then one more call and there is my crush.
I would NEVER EVER EVER in a million years even jokingly say anything to LK. I have been overly sensitive (shocking) about her very publicly known son. I try to avoid talking about him in fact which is stupid because I ask my other friends about their kids but this just seems different.
However at one girl's night gathering, after a couple of glasses of prosecco, mention to LK that I heard on the radio she was going to be a grandma again. She laughed and said she was excited but please don't ask the other question. I had no clue what she was talking about and she said the "marriage" question - she didn't know if he was going to get married. I told I didn't care but that it felt weird to hear this news on the radio and then see her son on People magazine or US weekly. She was so gracious and said she was used to it. I felt like a total stupid dork.
Since that evening, I have never brought it up again. I ask about her grandkids and her other "bonus" kids (her words) but not him. Ridiculous I know -- over analyzing I know but I won't do it. I felt cheezy and trashy while I am sure she didn't give it another thought.
Unless there is more prosecco involved then I may mention Sandra.
MK's "Old" In-Laws
Day 14: An old photo
So my in-laws would NOT be pleased that I classified this as an "old" photo. I thought about googling something from way back when but it didn't have any meaning. I did find a high school photo of my great Aunt Alice (from the early 1930's) on the internet (WILD!!!). I did contemplate putting my mom's parents wedding photo or I have this picture of my Grandma Leonard and she is STUNNING!
However I decided on this one. I would LOVE LOVE LOVE to frame this picture and put it out but my MIL would KILL me...really she would:
Such greatness is this photo!! Kind of Bonnie and Clyde-ish if you will. It is probably 1967 or 1968 before they were married. I am blessed with fantastic in-laws and this picture makes me laugh out loud everytime. Can't you just picture yourself hanging out with them?! Can't you just see this framed on my wall next to the Olan Mills photos?? LOVE IT!
So my in-laws would NOT be pleased that I classified this as an "old" photo. I thought about googling something from way back when but it didn't have any meaning. I did find a high school photo of my great Aunt Alice (from the early 1930's) on the internet (WILD!!!). I did contemplate putting my mom's parents wedding photo or I have this picture of my Grandma Leonard and she is STUNNING!
However I decided on this one. I would LOVE LOVE LOVE to frame this picture and put it out but my MIL would KILL me...really she would:
Such greatness is this photo!! Kind of Bonnie and Clyde-ish if you will. It is probably 1967 or 1968 before they were married. I am blessed with fantastic in-laws and this picture makes me laugh out loud everytime. Can't you just picture yourself hanging out with them?! Can't you just see this framed on my wall next to the Olan Mills photos?? LOVE IT!
Friday, April 1, 2011
MK Wants a lot of Things...and a Pony
Day 13: Something I want to buy
New chairs for the dining room
Skydiving lessons
A convertible car for playing
An African safari
A size six dress
A new bedroom suite
A six week Spanish immersion class
A pool that is 100% safety guaranteed -- no little kid worries
Housekeeping service (I'll throw in lawn service for Chad)
Stylish AND comfortable show shoes
Brazilian Blowouts every eight weeks
Airplane flying lessons
Vacation in Australia
But currently saving for college tuition and retirement suck up my extra cash so the above items will just stay on my Christmas list for now.
New chairs for the dining room
Skydiving lessons
A convertible car for playing
An African safari
A size six dress
A new bedroom suite
A six week Spanish immersion class
A pool that is 100% safety guaranteed -- no little kid worries
Housekeeping service (I'll throw in lawn service for Chad)
Stylish AND comfortable show shoes
Brazilian Blowouts every eight weeks
Airplane flying lessons
Vacation in Australia
But currently saving for college tuition and retirement suck up my extra cash so the above items will just stay on my Christmas list for now.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
MK Doesn't Buy Exciting Things
Day 12: Something I Bought Recently
I have to say this entry is so far my least favorite of the challenge. Thinking over my latest purchase is not an exciting task...groceries, gas, Pizza Hut, etc. Even if I expand my "recently" to be as broad as the time frame of the photo from Day 11, I am not sure that anyone will enjoy a blog about it.
We did buy a new house in Dec 2009 - that is big and causes a blip on the interesting scale.
Got an iPhone last fall -- I have to say that it's pretty cool. Love to video chat with the kiddos (and Chad of course) while I am on the road.
I have been introduced to this drink called Spark. I bought a big old tub of it and I really like it. It has a CRAZY TON of vitamin B but the real reason I got it -- caffeine. Yep -- one serving has 120 mg of caffeine and for those of you that don't know -- one coke has 30 mg -- a cup of coffee has 60 mg. So I just pour this miracle powder into my bottle of water in the morning and I am set for the day. Couldn't tell you the last time I bought a DDP at work! Caffeinated water -- why couldn't I have invented it?
We bought our plane tickets to St Maarten's to celebrate our 10 year wedding anniversary -- let the count down begin. Actually aside from the fact that it is a beach vacation (my favorite!), I am proud to say that this will probably be the cheapest thing we do for awhile. We used airline miles for the tickets and only had to pay a processing fee. We are going with the Espinozas (who will also be celebrating 10 years while we are actually there) and Jess' aunt has a house in St. Maarten so we don't have to pay for lodging.
And that is the glorified version of rifling through my wallet staring at my receipts.
I think tomorrow's entry will be just as riveting.
I have to say this entry is so far my least favorite of the challenge. Thinking over my latest purchase is not an exciting task...groceries, gas, Pizza Hut, etc. Even if I expand my "recently" to be as broad as the time frame of the photo from Day 11, I am not sure that anyone will enjoy a blog about it.
We did buy a new house in Dec 2009 - that is big and causes a blip on the interesting scale.
Got an iPhone last fall -- I have to say that it's pretty cool. Love to video chat with the kiddos (and Chad of course) while I am on the road.
I have been introduced to this drink called Spark. I bought a big old tub of it and I really like it. It has a CRAZY TON of vitamin B but the real reason I got it -- caffeine. Yep -- one serving has 120 mg of caffeine and for those of you that don't know -- one coke has 30 mg -- a cup of coffee has 60 mg. So I just pour this miracle powder into my bottle of water in the morning and I am set for the day. Couldn't tell you the last time I bought a DDP at work! Caffeinated water -- why couldn't I have invented it?
We bought our plane tickets to St Maarten's to celebrate our 10 year wedding anniversary -- let the count down begin. Actually aside from the fact that it is a beach vacation (my favorite!), I am proud to say that this will probably be the cheapest thing we do for awhile. We used airline miles for the tickets and only had to pay a processing fee. We are going with the Espinozas (who will also be celebrating 10 years while we are actually there) and Jess' aunt has a house in St. Maarten so we don't have to pay for lodging.
And that is the glorified version of rifling through my wallet staring at my receipts.
I think tomorrow's entry will be just as riveting.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Current Picture of MK
Day 11: A Photo of Me Taken Recently
What is your definition of recently? I fudged on the 10 years ago photo so I guess I will fudge on the "recently" photo.
Chad captured this moment when I obviously didn't know. I have on no make up, my hair is a mess, and I am wearing an ugly shirt. Rylee (who is about four months in this picture) is not in a super cute outfit and she has the paci in her mouth. If I had known Chad was going to take a picture, I would have put a stop to it. I am so glad I didn't know.
I love this picture. I was exhausted and apparently so was she. I was back at work but still nursing in the middle of the night so me dozing when she did was common.
Poor Z, the first born, was not allowed many opportunities like these little naps. "If you rock them to sleep or let them fall asleep in your arms, they will never learn to sleep on their own!" Oh sweet boy I am sorry for both of us that I felt compelled to listen to that advice and put you in your crib at the first sign you were tired. We both missed out my little love. (As a side note - Z does sleep a heck of a lot better than Rylee -- personality or early formed sleep habits? Hmmmm)
When I look at this picture, I can still feel the warmth of her head against my cheek. I feel the soft almost velvetness of her hair on my skin. I feel her little back rising and falling with each breath. I hear the little sighs and binkie noises that come with babies sleeping. Beautiful little one.
What is your definition of recently? I fudged on the 10 years ago photo so I guess I will fudge on the "recently" photo.
Chad captured this moment when I obviously didn't know. I have on no make up, my hair is a mess, and I am wearing an ugly shirt. Rylee (who is about four months in this picture) is not in a super cute outfit and she has the paci in her mouth. If I had known Chad was going to take a picture, I would have put a stop to it. I am so glad I didn't know.
I love this picture. I was exhausted and apparently so was she. I was back at work but still nursing in the middle of the night so me dozing when she did was common.
Poor Z, the first born, was not allowed many opportunities like these little naps. "If you rock them to sleep or let them fall asleep in your arms, they will never learn to sleep on their own!" Oh sweet boy I am sorry for both of us that I felt compelled to listen to that advice and put you in your crib at the first sign you were tired. We both missed out my little love. (As a side note - Z does sleep a heck of a lot better than Rylee -- personality or early formed sleep habits? Hmmmm)
When I look at this picture, I can still feel the warmth of her head against my cheek. I feel the soft almost velvetness of her hair on my skin. I feel her little back rising and falling with each breath. I hear the little sighs and binkie noises that come with babies sleeping. Beautiful little one.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
MK Ten Years Ago
Day 10: A Photo of Me Taken Over Ten Years Ago 
I am cheating just a hair on this one. Technically this photo is 9 years, 7 months, and four days old but I am saying it is close enough - it will be 10 years August 25, 2011.
This picture captures one of the most amazing days of my life. I smiled like that ALL day long. It was more than “I was a bride” or “I felt like a princess” or the most annoying phrase “It’s MY day” (really? Is there not someone else involved????) I was so excited, overjoyed, thrilled, and stunned that I was lucky enough to marry Chad. I still have days where I wake up with the same feeling – how is it that God picked me out of everyone else to get to be married to Chad???!
God was there too. It was practically tangible – like I could reach out and touch Him or feel His embrace. He was present at our wedding. I remember standing by myself while my parents went to light the unity candle and waiting for my grand entrance, listening to Ave Maria and staring out at the fountain. My heart beating out of my chest – not from nerves but from utter happiness. It was in this moment I first felt Him. He was so close filling me with peace and hope and I could feel Him smiling as if He were just as excited as I was.
Be skeptical or say I am crazy – I frankly don’t care. He was there for Chad and me. He walked with me – He joined us together – He was there.
I work with some people that are not particularly fond of their spouses most days. I get teased quite a bit for having a fairy tale husband. It really grates on my nerves. I do think I may lose it one day and tell them “sorry their lives suck and yes I have a fantastic husband so neener neener neener – I am not going to feel bad about it.”
My husband is loving, thoughtful, creative, generous, sensitive, and smart. He also can be terse, moody, smug, and impatient. As a whole person he is beautiful and amazing – I love the whole entire package. I see the good and not as good in him and love him even more. Is he perfect – HELL NO – but he is most certainly without a doubt perfect for me.
Ten years ago, I would say we were the yin and yang – fitting snugly together like puzzle pieces with our strengths and weaknesses complimenting each other. As we have grown and changed over the last decade, the division lines have changed in our little yin/yang circle and it is slowly changing to gray. Not meaning we are one person – not at all but that we have learned to support and help each other more seamlessly. We are also more flexible and fluid in our relationship and have learned from our experiences.
I can not believe it has been 10 years. A decade. A wonderful, fascinating, and enlightening decade. Crazy how it feels tonight. Crazy how you make it alright love. With each moment the more I love you.
I am cheating just a hair on this one. Technically this photo is 9 years, 7 months, and four days old but I am saying it is close enough - it will be 10 years August 25, 2011.
This picture captures one of the most amazing days of my life. I smiled like that ALL day long. It was more than “I was a bride” or “I felt like a princess” or the most annoying phrase “It’s MY day” (really? Is there not someone else involved????) I was so excited, overjoyed, thrilled, and stunned that I was lucky enough to marry Chad. I still have days where I wake up with the same feeling – how is it that God picked me out of everyone else to get to be married to Chad???!
God was there too. It was practically tangible – like I could reach out and touch Him or feel His embrace. He was present at our wedding. I remember standing by myself while my parents went to light the unity candle and waiting for my grand entrance, listening to Ave Maria and staring out at the fountain. My heart beating out of my chest – not from nerves but from utter happiness. It was in this moment I first felt Him. He was so close filling me with peace and hope and I could feel Him smiling as if He were just as excited as I was.
Be skeptical or say I am crazy – I frankly don’t care. He was there for Chad and me. He walked with me – He joined us together – He was there.
I work with some people that are not particularly fond of their spouses most days. I get teased quite a bit for having a fairy tale husband. It really grates on my nerves. I do think I may lose it one day and tell them “sorry their lives suck and yes I have a fantastic husband so neener neener neener – I am not going to feel bad about it.”
My husband is loving, thoughtful, creative, generous, sensitive, and smart. He also can be terse, moody, smug, and impatient. As a whole person he is beautiful and amazing – I love the whole entire package. I see the good and not as good in him and love him even more. Is he perfect – HELL NO – but he is most certainly without a doubt perfect for me.
Ten years ago, I would say we were the yin and yang – fitting snugly together like puzzle pieces with our strengths and weaknesses complimenting each other. As we have grown and changed over the last decade, the division lines have changed in our little yin/yang circle and it is slowly changing to gray. Not meaning we are one person – not at all but that we have learned to support and help each other more seamlessly. We are also more flexible and fluid in our relationship and have learned from our experiences.
I can not believe it has been 10 years. A decade. A wonderful, fascinating, and enlightening decade. Crazy how it feels tonight. Crazy how you make it alright love. With each moment the more I love you.
Monday, March 28, 2011
A Shiner Sounds Good Right About Now
I travel for work. I am gone usually about five weeks of the year split across the twelve months. It really isn’t too bad – other than the self-induced guilt I feel for leaving my ultra supportive husband and two sweet innocent children.
Life before this job was worse – I traveled probably 50% of the time. I could be on the road five weeks at a time only coming home on weekends to do laundry and fly out again. One time in what can only be described as utter absurdity, I was planning a show in Vegas and another client asked me to manage their show which was just a few days later in the same venue. I had already booked my travel for the first show so I investigated changing my hotel and flight for the second. It turned out it was cheaper to actually fly home and book a second ticket. So I flew home from the first show on Tuesday and turned around on Wednesday and flew back to Vegas and checked into the same hotel I checked out of the day before. Almost comical.
WOW – that was quite a tangent. Now back to our story. Being in the trade show business there is this phrase tossed around – “Code of the Road.” Essentially meaning “What happens in Vegas, Stays in Vegas.” I hate it. I know I am uptight but this goes beyond my uptightness. The way some of my colleagues behave on the road is embarrassing and disgusting. Am I judging? Absolutely. Just because you are on a trip for business without your spouse doesn’t mean your marriage vows don’t count. Just because the company is picking up the tab doesn’t mean you have to drink yourself to oblivion and be unable to function the next day at your JOB! I bring this up because it seems to be an expectation that we (those in the trade show business) go out and party while at a show.
I have just returned from 8 days on the road. Most of the staff went out on Friday to celebrate getting our show open but I chose not too. Chad asked me if I was the only fuddy duddy on the trip – for the record I was not. I didn’t go because I was spent. The week before I left, I worked long days and then at the show my days were generally 10 to 12 hrs long. At dinner (which was at 8pm after starting work at 7am), trying to psych myself up for going out so I wouldn’t be a killjoy, I found myself on the verge of tears. I wasn’t fighting back tears because something was wrong or my feelings were hurt. I was just tired. I could not dig deep enough to find the energy to go to the bar with the staff. I hated it but I just couldn’t.
One of our vendors confronted me. “Why don’t you drink? You never drink. Why don’t you ever drink?” I have to say I was stunned, pissed, and unsure of how to respond. I mumbled “I drink but I am just tired.” I sounded like some high school student trying to deflect peer pressure instead of replying with something like “what a crappy intrusive inaccurate ignorant question to ask jackass!” I was seething after that – what if I was an alcoholic? What if I had a medical issue? It wasn’t any of his freaking business.
But my beloved husband always helps me process. He pointed out that perhaps my over reaction to the question was because maybe the vendor hit too close to home. Chad said that while saying I never drink is not true – saying I rarely drink is completely accurate.
My first thought in my head after Chad’s statement was defensive – recalling a situation that happened in January at my last show where I did drink at the staff dinner and although I did not get drunk I still ended up throwing up in the sink (classy right?!) in my hotel room the next morning while trying to pack to head to the airport. Then as if I am being punished for my poor choice the evening before, I have to sit next to our director of HR on the flight home. She looked at me and said that I didn’t look well and maybe I was catching something. I tried to eat a bagel to keep my stomach in check but could only take one bite for fear of getting sick again. I passed out as soon as the flight took off – apparently another concerning fact for our HR director. It took me until nearly dinner time for my headache to go away.
I let this swirl and swish in my brain – rarely drinking – what is my deal? I am not against drinking (heck I am an Irish Catholic – I don’t know life without it!) and we have alcohol in the house. I have more than enough stupid drunk MK stories and if you slip Leigh Anne a $20 she will share them. But Chad is right – rarely do I have a beer with dinner or drink a cocktail. I have my business social drink – cranberry and vodka – that I will nurse all through the event/dinner/party. It is not very often that I will drink to a buzz and even rarer that I will get drunk.
I have been self analyzing and come up with this – 15% of my issue is functioning the next day and 85% of my issue is control.
The Next Day: On the road, I think this is completely understandable. I usually have to be on the floor by 7am the next day and being hung over is not fun. Even when I drink just a little, I usually drag and have a dull headache the next day so put that on top of tired makes for a crabby MK. Even at home, the idea of my children waking me up early keeps me sober.
Control: I think I have a need to be in completely control. I don’t know when this happened. Early in my career I would drink on the road – I even was one of those that showed up to work still buzzing from the night before (not proud of that mind you!) and now the thought of that horrifies me. Is it years in this industry that have jaded me? Is it watching people I respect make total idiots of themselves in front of employees and customers? Is it seeing a married person make out with someone they are not married to? Is it that I am too old? Do I not trust myself to keep from looking like a moron? While I can’t identify exactly what it is (I am sure Chad has an interesting take on this) I do know it is about control.
And those that say peer pressure to drink only happens in high school are full of crap. The pressure to drink while on a trip for me is unrelenting. Except now I think I have said no so often I may have actually beaten them down. That is until I get the question – Why don’t you drink? There is that moment where I want to show them I know how to do a shot or slam a beer. And then I think about what time I have to get up the next morning and politely decline.
Life before this job was worse – I traveled probably 50% of the time. I could be on the road five weeks at a time only coming home on weekends to do laundry and fly out again. One time in what can only be described as utter absurdity, I was planning a show in Vegas and another client asked me to manage their show which was just a few days later in the same venue. I had already booked my travel for the first show so I investigated changing my hotel and flight for the second. It turned out it was cheaper to actually fly home and book a second ticket. So I flew home from the first show on Tuesday and turned around on Wednesday and flew back to Vegas and checked into the same hotel I checked out of the day before. Almost comical.
WOW – that was quite a tangent. Now back to our story. Being in the trade show business there is this phrase tossed around – “Code of the Road.” Essentially meaning “What happens in Vegas, Stays in Vegas.” I hate it. I know I am uptight but this goes beyond my uptightness. The way some of my colleagues behave on the road is embarrassing and disgusting. Am I judging? Absolutely. Just because you are on a trip for business without your spouse doesn’t mean your marriage vows don’t count. Just because the company is picking up the tab doesn’t mean you have to drink yourself to oblivion and be unable to function the next day at your JOB! I bring this up because it seems to be an expectation that we (those in the trade show business) go out and party while at a show.
I have just returned from 8 days on the road. Most of the staff went out on Friday to celebrate getting our show open but I chose not too. Chad asked me if I was the only fuddy duddy on the trip – for the record I was not. I didn’t go because I was spent. The week before I left, I worked long days and then at the show my days were generally 10 to 12 hrs long. At dinner (which was at 8pm after starting work at 7am), trying to psych myself up for going out so I wouldn’t be a killjoy, I found myself on the verge of tears. I wasn’t fighting back tears because something was wrong or my feelings were hurt. I was just tired. I could not dig deep enough to find the energy to go to the bar with the staff. I hated it but I just couldn’t.
One of our vendors confronted me. “Why don’t you drink? You never drink. Why don’t you ever drink?” I have to say I was stunned, pissed, and unsure of how to respond. I mumbled “I drink but I am just tired.” I sounded like some high school student trying to deflect peer pressure instead of replying with something like “what a crappy intrusive inaccurate ignorant question to ask jackass!” I was seething after that – what if I was an alcoholic? What if I had a medical issue? It wasn’t any of his freaking business.
But my beloved husband always helps me process. He pointed out that perhaps my over reaction to the question was because maybe the vendor hit too close to home. Chad said that while saying I never drink is not true – saying I rarely drink is completely accurate.
My first thought in my head after Chad’s statement was defensive – recalling a situation that happened in January at my last show where I did drink at the staff dinner and although I did not get drunk I still ended up throwing up in the sink (classy right?!) in my hotel room the next morning while trying to pack to head to the airport. Then as if I am being punished for my poor choice the evening before, I have to sit next to our director of HR on the flight home. She looked at me and said that I didn’t look well and maybe I was catching something. I tried to eat a bagel to keep my stomach in check but could only take one bite for fear of getting sick again. I passed out as soon as the flight took off – apparently another concerning fact for our HR director. It took me until nearly dinner time for my headache to go away.
I let this swirl and swish in my brain – rarely drinking – what is my deal? I am not against drinking (heck I am an Irish Catholic – I don’t know life without it!) and we have alcohol in the house. I have more than enough stupid drunk MK stories and if you slip Leigh Anne a $20 she will share them. But Chad is right – rarely do I have a beer with dinner or drink a cocktail. I have my business social drink – cranberry and vodka – that I will nurse all through the event/dinner/party. It is not very often that I will drink to a buzz and even rarer that I will get drunk.
I have been self analyzing and come up with this – 15% of my issue is functioning the next day and 85% of my issue is control.
The Next Day: On the road, I think this is completely understandable. I usually have to be on the floor by 7am the next day and being hung over is not fun. Even when I drink just a little, I usually drag and have a dull headache the next day so put that on top of tired makes for a crabby MK. Even at home, the idea of my children waking me up early keeps me sober.
Control: I think I have a need to be in completely control. I don’t know when this happened. Early in my career I would drink on the road – I even was one of those that showed up to work still buzzing from the night before (not proud of that mind you!) and now the thought of that horrifies me. Is it years in this industry that have jaded me? Is it watching people I respect make total idiots of themselves in front of employees and customers? Is it seeing a married person make out with someone they are not married to? Is it that I am too old? Do I not trust myself to keep from looking like a moron? While I can’t identify exactly what it is (I am sure Chad has an interesting take on this) I do know it is about control.
And those that say peer pressure to drink only happens in high school are full of crap. The pressure to drink while on a trip for me is unrelenting. Except now I think I have said no so often I may have actually beaten them down. That is until I get the question – Why don’t you drink? There is that moment where I want to show them I know how to do a shot or slam a beer. And then I think about what time I have to get up the next morning and politely decline.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)