"Stay Classy San Diego"

After much probing over the weekend (man, I'm sore!), j/k, it was revealed that Keith's idea of a birthday celebration would include being wined and dined. I immediately thought of a bumper sticker we saw years and years ago...which made me think of a another bumper sticker on the same car:

Let's just say that the owners of that car were classy. So, the karaoke idea was scrapped. It's no longer a surprise, either. We are now having a nice dinner and then drinks at a bar. A bar at a hotel. A hotel that we have a room booked at. Need I say more? We will be closing that bar down. His Mom got the room reserved and my Mom is staying the night with the kids. It's the best idea. Ever.

I presented Keith with his gift of collected entries yesterday morning. Did I cry? You betcha. Maybe it was because he's such a wonderful person and that every wonderful person should know how much they mean to others. Maybe it was because he's made me so proud and so happy all these years that I can't imagine him not knowing how priceless he is. Or, maybe it was because I went to the mall last week to pick out a cologne, but couldn't smell a turd in a diaper, therefore I had to leave empty-handed. I can't pick out something I can't smell and I wasn't about to buy one that the sweet Grandma type sales lady considered to be "popular with the young kids", just to bring it back the next week.

We spent his birthday quietly. Kale and I baked him a cake, we ordered from his favorite pizza pie place and looked at custom homes on the way home. We can dream, can't we? It's how Keith stays hungry.

***

Denise Richards has a show. Really? Yes. And it's 100% garbage. I don't watch it, but I've seen a tidbit here and there. Must go to Hollywood where they hand out reality shows like teriyaki chicken samples in the mall food court. I wouldn't do one, but if I did, yesterday's show would've been called "It's Shitty". Day one of feeling remotely back to normal, I bust out the slip-n-slide and baby pool in backyard. Gratuitously lather kids and myself with SPF 2,350 sunblock. Change into bathing suits and swim diaper for Mack. Bring Ipod and speakers, cell phone, home phone, towels, blanket, bath toys and extra sunblock out back. Kids are in pool playing. Slip-n-slide is up and running and looks inviting. The new Weezer is blaring and I've just laid down to take in some sun and relax. Child #2 stands and lets out loud stamp of disapproval and motions to escape from pool. After several attempts of coaxing from the sidelines, I grumpily get up to see what's the matter. As I approach the pool I see cloudy water with chunks of poo and corn floating about. OH MY GOD! ABORT! ABORT! I rip Kale from infested water and immediately flip pool. Rinse out pool, rinse off toys (let them bake in 1000 degree sun), rip off crapped diaper and hose off child. Start over.

'Snot' to be taken lightly

I have been so lazy lately with posting. Bah. I've had a cold and the amount of snot that has been produced on this block has to be monumental. Seriously. How much snot can one person have? I'm slowly starting to feel some relief and drainage. Please give me back my life. These boogers have consumed two of my weekends...interpretation...Ms. No Fun to be Around. :-)

We were invited to a huge graduation party, but since my sinuses started draining my face felt like I'd been hit with an airbag, like 2o times. My face hurt. My jaw hurt. My teeth hurt. Lastly, my head hurt. That's how much snot was in my sinuses. I don't get sick very often, but when I do, my body likes to do it right. By slamming my head up against a brick wall until I collapse. Thank you. Thank you. That'll be enough.

We relaxed this weekend after the tasking week we'd had by buying a Slip-n-slide and taking Kale to see Kung Fu Panda (great movie). This was Kale's first movie in a theatre. A little nervy situation b/c attention spans and activity level is pretty low. But, all in all, he stayed in his seat all the while tossing and turning, eating, drinking and yes, farting. I think that made his experience complete.

***

Onto more exciting things, Obama finally won the democratic nomination. I didn't think Hillary was ever going to concede. Bless her heart. I can't wait to see how many people cannot vote for a black man. And the fact that he's even labeled as a 'black' man frustrates me as well. As a parent of mixed race children, I don't want either of my sons to be identified by one race more than the other. Obama is half black and half white. He has as much white blood as he does black blood running through his body. Yet, he's a 'black' man. I realize we need labels in order to classify things. So, he has to be called a 'black' man. He can't be labeled 'other', unless on paper. Still, the fact that he looks 'black' rubs a lot of people the wrong way. I've actually met people who think that if he gets voted into office that it'll be a free ride for all the black people and that he'll pass a law in order to pay all blacks reparations. HA HA HA. Whoever gets into that office is guided and lured from day one, but no one makes all the decisions. Uh... ever heard of checks and balances? The Constitution? All rational logic goes out the window, though, because hey, he's 'black'.

Happy Monday!

One day at a time

Phew! Today was a doozie. I'm still recovering from a minor head cold from this weekend and wasn't in the mood for what my boys were bringing. And it got brought. Mack is teething and I wish that effing tooth would just show up already and stop making my life difficult. Kale, well, he's just a sweetheart, thank you God! And, now that he's 3 (I've said it before...) he's a lot more verbal. So, I do A LOT more explaining and repeating myself. Because...HELLO MOM! Do you not know that everything is frickin' hilarious and up for debate?!?! And I laugh. But, that doesn't help for when I've reached my limit. I get louder. and louder. AND LOUDER---until it gets to him. I don't want to be a yeller.

Linda Lee's post today hit home. Especially this part:

"this job is mission-critical, this is not a job where you fuck around, this is the job of caring for the people I love more than anything on this earth and if I am a screwup at this then there is no hope for me at all. On the one hand, I think that this job can be hard as hell, and if I sometimes feel resentful and selfish and impatient, maybe that just means I’m human. On the other, I think it’s shameful to admit that, because this is what I signed up for —

and my god, this life is so good."

And it is. So. fucking. good. With that, I breathe a little deeper and relish in the fact that I get to do it all over again tomorrow. It's a new day. Another chance. With my own new expectations. I may not be a complete success, but I'll do better. And the next day a little better than the day before. That's all I can hope for. But, I wouldn't trade this time for any other.

As Keith was carting Mack off to bed, he kept calling out to me "Ma-ma" "Ma-ma". My heart swelled. I heard my little boy say my name in his own voice for the first time. It had meaning behind it. It wasn't jibberish. It's the first of many times he'll call for me, but the first time is always special. I'll remember it forever.

Powering up

We had an adventurous Memorial Day weekend. We gave the big finger to the gas lords and told'em to suck it. Our fun travels took us to Austin, Comfort, Boerne and Victoria, TX and all the places in between, meeting up with old friends and some new friends. Kale and Mack hung out with 2 sets of beautiful girl twins. One pair invited them for a swim and a BBQ and the other pair took Kale for a ride in their hot pink Barbie Power Wheel around the neighborhood while a tejano station blared from within it. Definitely a sight to see. Us grown-ups partook in some wine drinking, ball hitting, fishing and all sorts of tomfoolery. I've posted new pictures...take a gander.

***

**I cannot get this to post with correct spacing. Sorry for the run-on paragraphs.

We visited a couple in Boerne, TX. The husband is a friend of Keith's through work. A lovely couple with twin, four year old, daughters. We brought them a plant (they just moved into their new house) and a nice card for her because she is recovering from a major surgery that removed a large hemangioma from her liver two weeks ago. I believe they're our age or maybe a couple of years older. The kids and our husbands were outside on the patio playing and we sat inside to drink the rest of our coffee and talk.

We spoke of our husbands line of work and kid stuff. Side note: I've been doing a lot of worry-warting about life, my mortality and such. The chances of dying by being diagnosed with a disease and what that would mean to me has been weighing heavily on me lately. I'm not sure why. I suppose it has a lot to do with my Grandfather's death. And, also being a mother and the responsibilities I have as a result of that. Not only the responsibilities, but the wants. The want to see my children grow and flourish. Who doesn't want that? And, why do I feel like that it is inevitable that all this will be taken from me, too soon? It's so fragile and I feel like it's slowly slipping out of my grip. Not that I ever held it. Not that any of us do. I don't usually dwell on these uncertainties. But, lately, it's been different. I feel vulnerable and lost.

As we sat and talked about her surgery, she told me that when the large mass had been identified on her liver by an MRI initially, she was told that it was most likely lymphoma. For 48 hours she and her husband thought she had cancer. After several specialists, they came to a surprising conclusion that it was not cancer and was instead, a rare hemangioma. A miracle. After several months of delaying the surgery, she finally had it removed a couple of weeks ago and the Dr. barely had to remove 3% of her liver.

I looked at her with such admiration because what I fear the most she faced and seemed unfaltered. How'd you do it?, I asked. I have faith, she said. Simple. What a wonderful way to live...to have faith and not crumble. At a time when I could've really used my Grandfather's wisdom and faith based expertise, I had no one to turn to. No one to tell me show me why I believed and why I shouldn't give that up. Sure, we have family and friends that explain the obvious to you, but you and I know that doesn't always hold it together for you. A favorite blogger recently posted about the same thing...

Suddenly I'm facing some very confusing feelings. I'm not going to get too much into that here, only to say that where once I had the Mormon religion to inform me, I'm here now without that safety net trying to piece some things together. Which I guess is a way of saying that I'm still trying to figure out what I believe. And I know that admitting that is going to open me up to all sorts of judgment, but I don't think this makes me much different from a lot of people out there who are also trying to figure it all out. I don't think I'm alone in saying, yeah, I don't know, and I'm mostly okay with that. Sometimes, like right now, I'm not okay with that

She owns up to it and doesn't cop out. Because hell, we don't know. And when you do find out--you're dead. It was a visit that my soul needed. A message was sent and I got it...loud and clear. I felt spiritually strong and invincible again. Faith restored.

Where are my no-crazy pills? Gawd. I need 'em.

The days leading up to my monthly "visitor" are...uh...let's see...how do I say...HELLISH? Oh yeah they are. And every month when I get to this point, I don't realize what it is I'm actually dealing with until the crazy hormones are about to leave the building. Why? Why can't I just recognize it immediately and come to terms with it. Nope. It'd be too easy.

I went to Target today and probably complained about 13 things to Keith while I was driving there. Luckily, Keith humors me and lightens my mood. But, that's not so easy to do in person. I told him I was definitely buying a bottle of wine to crack open after the kids went to bed tonight. He told me to not open it in the store because he could picture me asking a Target Team Member for a plastic cup. I'd like to see them try and stop me.

"A man may be a fool and not know it, but not if he is married" --H.L. Mencken

Yesterday was our dating anniversary of 13 years. And, coupled with life and all of its' daily requirements, that was too much pressure to put on a regular mid-week day. So, the day exploded and showered us with all of its' blood and guts. We were a mess and it took all day to clean that crap up. Luckily, only us adults had to do the cleaning. Both of us were right and both of us were wrong, we just couldn't make the other see the other's perspective. So be it. I think when you go to apply for your marriage license, you should also be assigned a marital referee. Someone who is readily available to step in, listen to both sides and then mediate. (To the man) What she is saying is ... and what you are failing to realize is... Okay, so that may be a biased referee, but you get the idea.

I think we are all aware that there are major differences between man and woman. The fact that men and women find each other cute and easy to get along with so much so that they decide to take vows in front of their families and friends promising to hold them for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, and to love and to cherish them forever is wonderful and crazy at the same time. But, we are in fact crazy in love.

Thirteen years ago, we were in San Antonio with our friends after attending our Senior Prom. (*a trip that I WOULD NEVER ALLOW Kale or Mack to take!!!!!!!!! Funny how those ideas seem ludricous to me as a parent now. Are you crazy? Driving to another city in a van with your crazy friends while y'all laugh and talk loudly which will undoubtedly distract the driver?!?! And exit the freeway so fast that your friend almost flips the car and splatters you and your new boyfriend's (insert girlfriend, or not) brain on the feeder road?!?! Sorry, Mom, and thanks for letting me go. And on Mother's Day weekend, no less.) Anyway, we were kids in...er...love, oh, I don't know what you'd call it. We certainly called it love, but looking back...can 17/18 year olds be in love? Maybe. We knew we liked each other and took it from there.

We grew up together, studied and paid bills together. We fought and we laughed and we were happy. Happy to have found each other. Throughout these years, we've held on tightly for whatever the tide would bring. Sometimes the water is calm and serene and you float on through enjoying the scenery and what this life together has brought you. And other times, the waves are forceful and crashing, but you both continue to hold on making sure the other person is safe and isn't letting go. We're not racking up years. We're traveling...and its' been a vacation.

Oh, Momma!

My Mother's Day weekend started Saturday morning when my Mother whisked me away for a $$$ haircut and pedicure. Wowza. It felt good. My hair was begging for attention. And my feet? Well, they had started forming the letters S.O.S on my heels. My Mom always knows what I need and she never fails to deliver. Coupled with the waxing and threading I had gotten on Friday I'd had a complete overhaul by noon on Saturday. I felt like a million bucks. I felt like the car that got the $8 car wash. Thanks Mom, you just added 1.5 years to my shelf life!

After that, we hit the road to Grandma's. And any trip worth taking to Victoria should not be without Hinze's BBQ in Wharton, TX and don't forget the big disc of peanut brittle to snack on for the rest of the drive. Perfect lunch in the country.

Our Sunday morning started bright and early with church, brunch and sno-cones to take back to Grandma's house. Kale made my Mother's Day the best one yet because soon after arriving to the restaurant he asked to "go potty"! That was the first time he's ever pee'd in a public restroom. (We just started seriously potty training last week). I was so impressed and excited. Buying diapers for only one child???? That may give me enough $ to get a haircut more than once a year, but I won't count on it.

On our way home we stopped by my Grandfather's grave. I thanked him for being such a great Grandfather and for teaching me how to be a parent. He taught me so much about patience and selflessness...the 2 things you need the most in order to be a mother.

:::

Sunday evening was spent with Keith's Mother and sister. We were there to celebrate Mother's Day, but also to offer our condolences for the loss of H & R's beloved pet, Mocha, a tan cocker spaniel. It was unexpected, but a peaceful departure. H & R got Mocha around the same time Keith and I started dating in 1995. I remember going to visit in Bryan, TX and playing around with this cute little puppy. Keith was cute, but she was cuter. Mocha was a spit-fire and not much phased her when she was determined. She will be greatly missed.