Update on Lost Cause

She called me a lost cause when it comes to getting me to move on her block. But she still has hope for you, Grapefruit!

Lost Cause

Yup, that's me. My sister confirmed it today when she said she'd totally given up hope for me and called me a lost cause, but not Bex. Well, that about sums it up; I couldn't agree more!

***I'm kidding, I know what you meant. But seriously, as if I didn't know! LOL! I enjoyed that one.***

Also, today was downright depressing. I yanked a wiley hair from the bottom of my chin. What am I, a witch?

Now, all I need is a mole...

Economic Love

This economy. I don't know anyone who hasn't been affected by it. Just got off the phone with my sister who told me they've been cutting back and she's grateful for the opportunity to teach her kid's a thing or two. Note: Or a 1,000...those kids are no dummies! Anyway, we're in the same boat as everyone else, and we've passed along that information to our kids.

This is a picture of my sweet, grown up Mallory. I went to Back to School night the other night to learn more about what she has in store for this year. And boy, they have more to manage than I ever did in high school. When I went to sit down for her Theatre spiel, I noticed on the white board that there was a $22 fee due for her elective extras that we needed to pay for. Well, at this point, high school has cost me $35 for a student body card, $40 for her culinary elective, around $40 for her PE mandatory uniform, $60 something for the yearbook. Had to buy a swim cap also for PE. And all those spiral notebooks I purchased...out the window. They have to use composition books instead along with 5,000 other supplies. But still, I wondered why Mallory hadn't asked me to write the check for that one. I mean, I had signed a million pieces of paper, written a ton of checks, and now attended 8 classes worth of back to school night.

But this stuck with me. This $22 fee. So today, when I remembered, I asked her to remind me that we needed to write the check for this class, it was due soon. But she said we didn't need to. But why? Then how? Because she'd already paid for it. With her own money. Because that's what loving someone is. Just lightening their load and not even telling them about it. Just doing it and not expecting anything in return.

That's Mallory in a nutshell. And while many of us are feeling the pinch of a tighter budget, I'm guessing there are lots of blessings that get squeezed out of it as well, so we should be grateful. Hard times can bring out the best in us, even, or especially, our children.

Love you, Mal.

Musings

Okay, here we go. I haven't had anything special to write about. I tend to steer clear of the deeply personal on this said blog. Nothing personal on your end, just the way I am.

My brain dances from one subject to another all day long, and I guess, when they build up, I blog about them in a very patchwork way. Mostly cuz I'm getting grief from a said sister who is a beautifully, prolific blogger and her fans would be sadly disappointed did she not. I'm included in that group.

So, I noticed my dog on a walk this morning, avoiding any surfaces by which made her nervous. The covers in the street, the yellow bumpy stuff on the bike curbs at the end of the sidewalk, even the sprinkler water in the way. I'm like that. I don't like to step on grates in the sidewalk cuz you NEVER know what's going to happen. It's like falling down a mine shaft. Scary! You wonder when you see that on the news, how'd they get there? Well, darn it, they just weren't careful like me.

And again, it's hard to be me. Just deciding what to have for lunch is major. Because, you know, I'm a picky eater. I'm picky in the sense that I want it to be GOOD. Not just lunch, but life-changing lunch. Something I want to pick up the phone and talk about! That's some serious pressure every 24 hours. Now, dinner doesn't concern me so much. Something about lunch. Lunch should be fun. I'm more European (okay, that's a stretch). I want my bigger meal to be mid day. Something light and easy for dinner. In fact, I'm starting to think about my siesta right now! (spelling anyone...I don't speak Spanish...see post below).

So I was at a soccer tournament this past weekend, and I went to use one of many public restrooms I am forced to use in the many soccer events of my life. This one wasn't a port-o-potty, which excites me to no end. If it flushes,everyone's happier. But a pre-req is a toilet seat cover, yes? So I reach out for one (sometimes two, depends, can't be too careful) and the brand name on the seat cover box says: Life Guard. Life Guard??! I'm just going to the bathroom. Might I die in making the choice to relieve my bladder? Would I if I didn't use this toilet seat cover. Now I've had bad thoughts about snakes coming up outta the pipes in the middle of the night while you are going to the bathroom in the dark, but I don't see how a Life Guard Toilet Seat Cover might save me, or even protect me in the least in that situation. Why not: Better Safe than Sorry covers? Or You are gross and lazy if you don't use me covers? Or You Just NEVER know? Or Did you SEE that last person cover? Well, anyway. That was a little over the top and it made me think or not want to think about why this cover was going to save my life. (PS. I'm in the restroom a lot. I just am. It's a curse. Lots of time to think about these VERY important things).

And I'm ALWAYS trying to right some wrong. I mean, someone has to! We can't let Obama try and do it all by himself. Or Nazi Kindergarten teachers. Or real estate agents. (But I'm NOT bitter). We have this Dad on our soccer team who makes it his personal manifest destiny to yell and publicly destroy his daughter in every game we watch. It's something of a spectacle. His daughter is an amazing soccer player and her work rate is much higher than your average player. She has passion for the sport. Or she has passion about not making her dad angry. Not sure which. But apparently, I heard from another parent & friend, "It's a good thing you weren't there this morning. He was outta hand. Just eating her up (verbally). You wouldn't have been able to contain yourself." She's probably right. She obviously knows me well. I'm KNOWN for saying what others want to but fear being publicly tarred and feathered. But no, not me. I love having people despise me. But I will have righted a wrong. So here we go. I couldn't contain myself. It was one story too many. Me to the coach in the afternoon: "So, I wasn't here this morning, but I hear we have a new assistant coach!: Coach to me: "Huh?" Totally dumbfounded and confused. "You know, __________. I hear he held nothing back in coaching his daughter the ENTIRE game." Coach: "Yah. He's outta control." Other moms start gaining some courage after I say: "Yes, it's all I can do to stop myself from calling CPS. This isn't bordering on abuse, it's bordering on him getting abused if it continues." Then the other mom's pipe up. "Yah, Coach. It's bad. He needs to stop." Breathe. And so it goes. And there's no stopping it. Cuz if Dave could, he would. It's quite the burden being married to me. You never know who you're gonna get.

So when I lay my very tired head down to sleep at night, it's no wonder that I often can't. Because I am my father's daughter. I have very strong opinions. And sometimes don't know when not to share them. I've gotten better and truly try to show some discretion. On the other hand, whatever I can do to help.

Do you think I'm having a brain anuerism? I'd check the spelling but my brain has moved on way past that.

Happy Monday.

Before, Beginning, and...

This is our back yard. Not much to look at. The dirt is a combination of powdery dust like cement powder, clay and sand. It barely qualifies as "soil". It's like the desert back there. Hot, dirty, dusty. A few die-hard weeds. As a gardener at heart, this has been heart-wrenching for me to endure: WAITING.

But the call I was waiting for finally came. The permit had been approved. 4 weeks at least we waited. Last house, 3 days. Anyone who knows me knows I'm not very patient. Especially with shady salespeople. (By it's very nature, if you look up shady in the dictionary it says "see sales". Sorry if I offended anyone here...)

A tractor showed up.

But it was a nail-biter. The access is tight. My smart hubby made a steel frame box to "protect" our air conditioning units. I thought he was a goober. Turns out we were both right...he's a smart goober! Being a nerd has it's advantages. You probably can't tell in the picture...but let's just nicely say, Dave was stressed. I'm pretty sure he still is. Just today (as every other day since we started this project) my dear husband called to find out how many workers are working on the project, if the tractor was still in the yard, had they moved anything, etc. What he is actually asking is "Have they destroyed anything? Did they take out a corner of the house driving the backhoe 40 MPS through the tight spot?" Good reasons to worry, but at some point, you just gotta let them do the job. I can't question them...I don't speak spanish! He's sort of a micro-manager with this stuff. High, high blood pressure, this guy. Totally self-inflicted. I used to feel sorry for him. I just try to stay calm otherwise he tends to increase my very low blood pressure!

But after three days we got this. We have this to give us hope. A pit. A pit that today is being filled with pipe and rebar. A pit that will someday be a pool. A pit that no doubt will bring endless hours of pleasure and relief. The idea that in a couple months time, this project might come to an end. There will be no more workers in my yard. So that this gardener might begin another project: Beautifying the desert. I'm up to the challenge. Although, this is the 3rd (and HOPEFULLY LAST) new back yard from scratch we will ever put in. I've asked to be buried in that pit. Cuz if we ever have to move or do this again, surely it will kill me.

Think happy thoughts. And don't, don't answer the phone!

Last Hurrah

It's finally here. The last Friday before school starts. I'm melancholy. And I only have a few minutes.

Life is hectic and full. I long for lazy afternoons filled with Polly Pockets and Thomas the Tank Engine. Those days are long gone. I long for them even more as I read my sister's blogs being reminded of days filled with glue, craft projects, and time to fill.

Today I dropped my daughter of at school. High School. For orientation. She was beautiful. Grown up. Confident. Shiney. She had straightened hair, sparkly lip gloss, and a very put together outfit, gratefully, in less than 30 minutes. Those skills will come in handy come 5:45 am on Monday morning.

I asked, no, begged my husband: "Can't we squeeze in one more afternoon on the boat?" I'm not sure he even hesitated. Somehow there is time for that. He will have to work this weekend to make this come to pass. But it will be worth it. Even he knows that.

Coolers are packed, towels are folded. The water is waiting. Precious laughter, relaxed bodies floating in the warm water. Calm. Before the storm, which is the school year.

I love the change of seasons and various paces of life. But this summer didn't creep by the way it usually has. My children are slipping away. In a good way. A necessary way. An "I'm so proud of them" way. Nonetheless, it's hard. Hard to say good-bye to yet another summer. Free time. Leisure. Life...the way I wish it could be all the time.

Back to School

My feet hurt. From shopping. 3 hours. At the outlets. With a reminder every 30 minutes from Hayden: "After this store, can we go home?" "Is this the last pwace, Mom?" Ice cream bribery was a given to get us through this marathon of shopping.

It's upon us. Back to school shopping. This year, since my kids are buying most of their own clothes, it's been a whole new ball game, endless walking to find just the right bargain. We're choosing much more carefully. It has to be just the perfect thing. Each girl definitely has their own style.

Yesterday, I hollared up the stairs, wondering, after I hadn't heard much racket from the kids:

"Girls...what are you doing up there?"

(And yes, I am too lazy to climb the stairs to find out without yelling. That's why I was blessed with such strong vocal cords).

"We're laying out all our different outfits for school and mixing up all the different options we can come up with!"

Duh, as if!

Remember that? How excited you felt about looking SO cute on the first day of school. The excitement over, say, even a new binder, so pristine and new? Now I'm excited when I put on something without food on it...some stain-free shirt I can find! How the winds of time change perspective. I can see past the first day of school to the 2nd week of school...homework. But I'm not one to burst a bubble. They'll figure it out soon enough.

Shopping, now, is like describing the personalities of each child. Lindsay found an argile sweater that she told me she was going to wear for picture day...(whenever that is?!). Linds is so much more dressed down than Mal. Mal is more feminine and girly. She likes jewelry and long necklaces. Lindsay wants 10 pairs of sneakers, all different kinds, from Converse, to Vans, to PUMA soccer shoes, to ASICS running shoes. Mal can't wait to be able to wear flip flops...shoes with no backing. Lindsay will have to wait for high school for that. Hayden, it's all about warm fleece jackets and camo back packs. (ie camoflauge). You'd think we lived in Alaska for how often Hayden wants to wear a jacket. He definitely doesn't tolerate the heat too well!

It was a fun day. 2 weeks and counting. Summer gets shorter every year and the school days get longer. We're embracing it all. Let's hope the teacher lists are as exciting as all our finds, today. Either way, we'll shine up those apples for the first day of school.