Way to go Buc's!!
We knew you way back when.
I will wear my gas station shirt w/ pride!
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Friday, October 30, 2009
October 30, 2009
It's here.And I'm forty.
The Day, and the 30 leading up to it, have been beautiful.
But, especially The Day.
Greetings have come from the most unexpected places.
Thoughtful gifts and cards abound.
I am spoiled.
And lucky.
And loved.
I'll check back in and share some photo highlights.
Because there are some things, you're not gonna believe!
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Tomorrow.
I started the day w/ my first-ever pedicure.
I'm almost 40.
It was time.
I'll end the day at a table for eight at eight.
It's been perfect.
I'm almost 40.
It was time.
I'll end the day at a table for eight at eight.
It's been perfect.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Two more days.
She came to town today in her fancy hat and boot cut denims and she brought me a pink brownie cake with Who-ville candles.
In "Gras-ti-tude" for the first person who has EVER baked me a PINK brownie cake w/ Who-ville candles.And boot cut denims.
Her Grandmommy will be here tomorrow and I can hardly STAND myself!
I'll be FORTY in two days!!
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Three. More. Days. (Juuuust under the wire.)
I have a memory of The Short One as a two-year-old that still makes me weepy. You see, his big brother had already completed three years of pre-school at the sweetest parents-morning-out program at our church, with the sweetest families, and the SWEETEST teachers, when The Short One started "school" as a Heavenly Shape. (The Big One had been the yellow square. His teacher offered to let The Short One share the color and shape his older brother had used, but we declined. "We're gonna be DIFFERENT," we declared, and BOY! were we ever on to something with that concept! The Short One became the red triangle. )
I've said this before, but The Short One was My Young One. Just barely old enough to enter each approaching grade. Heading off to "school" in diapers and baby fat.
So, in the months leading up to the First Day of School, The Short One was just barely two and I started recounting to him some of the excitement of his brother's school days. Carrying a new lunch box. Toting a backpack. Having his very own "cubby." Sweet Miss Marilyn and "Shapey," the class mascot. His friends in class. The playground. And THEN to further familiarize him w/ the classroom routine, thinking I would make the transition from Mommy to School easier, I started singing the only song I really ever remember The Big One singing during each of his pre-school days. I started singing "The Weather Song."
Each afternoon, while The Big One was away playing or busying himself in front of "Blue's Clues," I would rock The Short One before his nap and sing, "The Weather Song."
The Short One started pre-school the same day his big brother started kindergarten. The Big One was bravely cautious. But, blended comfortably into his perfect kindergarten classroom. There were days he looked back and asked to come home. But, he was nurtured and he thrived.
The Short One parted from me MUCH more slowly, to say the least. And to save his Grandmommy from enduring the ugly retelling, I'll just say that come Halloween of that first school year, we were still trying to acclimate him to his Heavenly Shapes classroom. Oh, the pitiful crying.
One day, when I was simply SURE Miss Marilyn would throw up her hands and say "That's it. I can do no more to comfort The Short One," (tho' I knew better than to think that would EVER be the case) we sat down to discuss, again, how to love that baby boy into a comfortable morning or two away from me.
She shook her head and said, "I just don't get it. He's fine when you drop him off. He's fine thru Morning Stations. Group Play. But, when we sit down for Circle Time, he starts to get weepy. Seems the worst when we sing 'The Weather Song.'"
"WHAT did you just say?" I asked.
"The WEATHER SONG?" I queried loudly.
I thought back over ALLLLL those many rocking, nap time afternoons of "The Weather Song."
And now. "The Weather Song" reminded him of me. And made him cry.
(He is SO much like his mother!!)
Sweet Miss Marilyn SURELY wondered why the WEATHER proved so sad for The Short One.
But, she loved him anyway.
She loved him right into loving school.
She loved him into potty-training.
And chapel.
And sitting in an actual CHAIR to eat his lunch.
To all the firsts of school.
She held his hand and dried his tears and fetched his blanket and loved that baby.
And I know now that his tenderness has moved on from "The Weather Song," but it's still there in so many ways.
That tenderness is there for his brother, too. When he's feeling uneasy. When something is just too new. Tho' he's more reluctant to show it.
But, I know that their teachers, all the way back to Miss Marilyn, have hugged them and held their hands and dried their eyes.
In Circle Time. And in changing WEATHER.
In "Gras-ti-tude" for the teachers who care for my children as much of the day as I do. For not just teaching them, but helping them. For not just enduring the days w/ them, but enriching every minute. For understanding the quirks. And smoothing the rough patches.
There's no way I could do the job they do.
I tried to teach The Short One "The Weather Song."
And just LOOK where that got ME!!!
(I am STILL mad at that damn song!!)
I've said this before, but The Short One was My Young One. Just barely old enough to enter each approaching grade. Heading off to "school" in diapers and baby fat.
So, in the months leading up to the First Day of School, The Short One was just barely two and I started recounting to him some of the excitement of his brother's school days. Carrying a new lunch box. Toting a backpack. Having his very own "cubby." Sweet Miss Marilyn and "Shapey," the class mascot. His friends in class. The playground. And THEN to further familiarize him w/ the classroom routine, thinking I would make the transition from Mommy to School easier, I started singing the only song I really ever remember The Big One singing during each of his pre-school days. I started singing "The Weather Song."
Each afternoon, while The Big One was away playing or busying himself in front of "Blue's Clues," I would rock The Short One before his nap and sing, "The Weather Song."
The Short One started pre-school the same day his big brother started kindergarten. The Big One was bravely cautious. But, blended comfortably into his perfect kindergarten classroom. There were days he looked back and asked to come home. But, he was nurtured and he thrived.
The Short One parted from me MUCH more slowly, to say the least. And to save his Grandmommy from enduring the ugly retelling, I'll just say that come Halloween of that first school year, we were still trying to acclimate him to his Heavenly Shapes classroom. Oh, the pitiful crying.
One day, when I was simply SURE Miss Marilyn would throw up her hands and say "That's it. I can do no more to comfort The Short One," (tho' I knew better than to think that would EVER be the case) we sat down to discuss, again, how to love that baby boy into a comfortable morning or two away from me.
She shook her head and said, "I just don't get it. He's fine when you drop him off. He's fine thru Morning Stations. Group Play. But, when we sit down for Circle Time, he starts to get weepy. Seems the worst when we sing 'The Weather Song.'"
"WHAT did you just say?" I asked.
"The WEATHER SONG?" I queried loudly.
I thought back over ALLLLL those many rocking, nap time afternoons of "The Weather Song."
And now. "The Weather Song" reminded him of me. And made him cry.
(He is SO much like his mother!!)
Sweet Miss Marilyn SURELY wondered why the WEATHER proved so sad for The Short One.
But, she loved him anyway.
She loved him right into loving school.
She loved him into potty-training.
And chapel.
And sitting in an actual CHAIR to eat his lunch.
To all the firsts of school.
She held his hand and dried his tears and fetched his blanket and loved that baby.
And I know now that his tenderness has moved on from "The Weather Song," but it's still there in so many ways.
That tenderness is there for his brother, too. When he's feeling uneasy. When something is just too new. Tho' he's more reluctant to show it.
But, I know that their teachers, all the way back to Miss Marilyn, have hugged them and held their hands and dried their eyes.
In Circle Time. And in changing WEATHER.
In "Gras-ti-tude" for the teachers who care for my children as much of the day as I do. For not just teaching them, but helping them. For not just enduring the days w/ them, but enriching every minute. For understanding the quirks. And smoothing the rough patches.
There's no way I could do the job they do.
I tried to teach The Short One "The Weather Song."
And just LOOK where that got ME!!!
(I am STILL mad at that damn song!!)
Monday, October 26, 2009
WOW! Only 4 more days!
My brave Army friend sent me an email yesterday. A horribly, horribly sad and poignant email. I hope Mama didn't read it. It was very timely considering the cancer awareness involvement of the past and coming weekend. But, did I mention The SAD?? Good GRIEF!
Once I got thru the heartbreaking pictures of this beautiful, young woman suffering from cancer ... actually, she's NOT suffering in the pictures, she's getting married (SEEE!!!?!? I told YOU!! THE SAD!) ... once I got thru those pictures there's the "message" at the end urging us to live each day to its fullest. (You've all seen messages like this before.) And urging us to lead "an uncomplicated life."
Uncomplicated.
My life is no more complicated than the next mommy.
I've no more complications than the next wife or daughter or sister.
In fact, I've no REAL complications.
None at all.
Dirty house. Cluttered desk. Messy piles of things. The Dog who refuses to go outside when it rains. Unless there's a squirrel she can chase. And become muddy. And, "Oh look, a pile of something dead in which to roll!!"
Those aren't complications.
Really.
They're not.
My father-in-law and I shared a birthday lunch today in honor of his 82nd year.
And a glass of wine.
And he took a sip, set down his glass and said, "Phew. It sure is a long way 'til 83."
But, we agreed we would NOT want to go back.
To 18.
Or 21.
Or 16.
Those were tough years, he said.
"It was complicated. All the figuring out where you wanted to go."
I agree.
Forty (and 82) is surprisingly UNcomplicated.
In "Gras-ti-tude" for "complications" with which I'm able to so easily deal.
For pictures that open my eyes to real struggles. (Cancer. And bombs in Baghdad ... jeeessh!)
For the ease of my life.
And of course ... for wine w/ lunch.
Once I got thru the heartbreaking pictures of this beautiful, young woman suffering from cancer ... actually, she's NOT suffering in the pictures, she's getting married (SEEE!!!?!? I told YOU!! THE SAD!) ... once I got thru those pictures there's the "message" at the end urging us to live each day to its fullest. (You've all seen messages like this before.) And urging us to lead "an uncomplicated life."
Uncomplicated.
My life is no more complicated than the next mommy.
I've no more complications than the next wife or daughter or sister.
In fact, I've no REAL complications.
None at all.
Dirty house. Cluttered desk. Messy piles of things. The Dog who refuses to go outside when it rains. Unless there's a squirrel she can chase. And become muddy. And, "Oh look, a pile of something dead in which to roll!!"
Those aren't complications.
Really.
They're not.
My father-in-law and I shared a birthday lunch today in honor of his 82nd year.
And a glass of wine.
And he took a sip, set down his glass and said, "Phew. It sure is a long way 'til 83."
But, we agreed we would NOT want to go back.
To 18.
Or 21.
Or 16.
Those were tough years, he said.
"It was complicated. All the figuring out where you wanted to go."
I agree.
Forty (and 82) is surprisingly UNcomplicated.
In "Gras-ti-tude" for "complications" with which I'm able to so easily deal.
For pictures that open my eyes to real struggles. (Cancer. And bombs in Baghdad ... jeeessh!)
For the ease of my life.
And of course ... for wine w/ lunch.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
T Minus 5 days.
In "Gras-ti-tude" for Date Night w/ The Ones Big and Tall.
Food.
And Fun.
The Short One isn't much for stand-up comedy and elected to have a sleepover instead.
Anybody want him?
He's cute.
And doesn't snore much.
Food.
And Fun.
The Short One isn't much for stand-up comedy and elected to have a sleepover instead.
Anybody want him?
He's cute.
And doesn't snore much.
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