HAPPY BIRTHDAY AND A WOMBAFU

The actually lyrics after looking them up are...
HAPPY, HAPPY BIRTHDAY IN A WARM BATH OH FEELS NICE NICE NICE.

I like mine better.

Ourleen is the best, I agree with Tar. While (weeping and) looking through pics tonight I found this one.
One of my faves. Mostly because it has some of my faves, but really because Dec's sideburns are sweating.
And he is sitting.
Watching TV.


I love that kid.
And I love the baby. The orignal baby.
XOXO

On her day.

To my sister. You really just might be everyone's favorite Auntie.

Which might be why your nephew DW told me that we should buy you a car for your birthday.

"Like a real car?"

"Yeah mom. A. Real. Car."

Duh.

***

Thanks for spicing up our world.

We love you lots. Happy Day.

P.S. Your present will arrive at some point. And, though you really are the best.
It ain't a car....

Dia duit ar maidin

L is for Liberating

Dear Parent X,

Let me go on the record as saying, I made a terrible mistake.

I cared.
I cared how your son was doing.
When you did not.
I pushed.
I pushed him to dig deeper, think harder, read faster.
When you did not.
I begged.
I begged him not to resort to "I don't know" when asked a question.
When you did not.
I expected.
I expected him to grow, improve, complete, succeed.
When you did not.

He told you I yelled.
And now I am.
About you.
In the privacy of my home.
(Bleep! Bleep!)

And tomorrow will be a new day.
For me and him.
Because tomorrow is the day I stop
caring,
pushing,
begging,
expecting.

Tomorrow our time will pass and I will assume he is capable of nothing.
Just as you do.

It must be liberating,
this path that you have chosen.
The one you hope I follow.

I am hoping so.


Admiringly yours.
And all that jazz.

Yes I did, thanks for asking

Yes I did find the perfect place to begin my tacky beach house accessory collection.




Yes I did pack a brownie and a book to keep myself entertained at the River while Eric fished.




Yes I did watch him give the fish a root canal and then heard it bark (or burp, hard to tell as I'd never heard a fish make noise before).




Yes I did ride the merry-go-round in a dress. Not even side saddle. Some lady!




Yes I did meet the dog I want to bring home.



Thanks for asking.

Making It

Time. I need to make more of it, make it last longer, make it go faster, make it slow down, make it worth while, make it productive, make it relaxing, make it...

In the mornings my time is eaten up quickly. And I know I could make it less rushed if I got up a little earlier, but that would make my sleep time less and that is never a good idea. So mornings are quick, making lunch, coffee, dishes, getting me dressed, getting Xave dressed packing lunch and lugging 3 bags out the door. (4 on Mondays when we wash the NAPPER over the weekend).

But being that Xave enjoys NOTHING more then playing ball, our mornings are not complete without playing a little catch. The other day I found myself flat ironing my hair with one hand while pitching him balls to swing at with the other.

And I need to try to remember that it's not hard. I can make the time to throw the ball, read the book, color the paper. That is the fun time. The play time. The QUALITY time that can easily be missed when life gets in the way of LIFE.

Just remind me of that tomorrow morning (MONDAY=NAPPER) when I am running around, getting organized, hair HALFWAY straightened, looking for keys (khees mommy? khees?), shouting and singing how SCHOOL IS FUN and WORK IS FUN and trying to tell Xavy, we can PLAY when we get home. I will take a deep breath and make it the time NOW...all the time.

Oh look, I match my lilacs

If I could spend my days,

with a lilac mustache,

I would.

FOUND IT!

Let me preface this with: my cell phone being lost seems somewhat insignificant amongst the other things going on around this blog. But I type anyway so you will all sleep more soundly tonight.

I found my missing phone.

But I kinda wish I hadn't. It still smells like poops.

Last resort after tearing the house apart (twice) was to head to the curb and "inspect" the trash.

With watering eyes from the stench, I lifted a loaded diaper off my pink phone.

Guess it ain't time for an iphone after all.

***Picture is Nonie @ Dec's soccer with her "uniform on". Shirt says "when I grow up I want to play for Ireland". Obviously.

Time Out

I guess I am in Time Out. I am not sure what I have done (sure I could dust off some less than complimentary acts, or words that I might have done or said), but I am being punished by the God(s). Or my glass half full side of me would like to say being 'tested' cuz I'm tuff and I can take it.

So this week the Gods played hardball with me:

• two surgeries,
• racing to the hosptital, of course the pres was in town to add to the chaos
• the endless updates of text messages
• shake hands at a wedding
• racing to rehab, yes we hit traffic
• racing back to work,
• losing Patti for not two days, but ten (so we'll pay her for all ten, just to make sure she comes back on day eleven)
• the daycare center that just last week dropped its back up childcare program (They said if only I called last week, ARGH)
• beg, borrow and plea with everyone to spend time with the most adorable face on the Upper West Side (thank you all) and then...
• my babysitter oversleeps making me later than ever (and just for good measure Annie tinkled through her diaper, pjs and sheets so bath and laundry was an added bonus
• work could not be busier
• work out with a new trainer 2X = bad idea - I ache from my nose to my toes

And then tonight with the end in sight, just 24 more hours until I can collapse on my couch, we see water. Not in the sink, but under it . All I can do is look up at the ceiling as if I see those magical Gods and say really, REALLY???

Was that just the icing on the cake or will the next 24 hrs bring a grand finale? I say to those Gods is that way you want to play? I am just putting it in writing for all to see that I CAN TAKE IT so BRING IT ON!

I laugh at you.. you will not beat me. Not this week.

Show me the way.

I pray for signs.
Clear ones.

So when I turned on my phone last Monday and had two messages,
one text from Erin asking for my address,
and one from the principal of St. Francis Xavier School.
I knew I had received one.

I thought...
Erin's son's name is Francis Xavier
and the principal is calling from Francis Xavier.
And my middle name is Frances and that relates to Carmel somehow (although I am too young to know how)
and I was craving a caramel which is spelled like Carmel.
... and I knew.
I just had this feeling.
Something could maybe possibly come of this if I think real hard about it.

And it did.

So on August 25th with 25 first graders walk into their classroom at SFX,
they'll find me.




MUWAHAHAHAHA.

Boot Makeovers & Cell Phone Sightings?

These are my big ugly "man-boots" that I bought for $9 in northern Maine so SO many years ago (after they spent a rainy afternoon with Declan).

My cute yellow-polka-dot-hand-painted (by 4-year-old Dec)-boots.

These are my boots.

My super cute yellow-polka-dot-with bright yellow grosgrain ribbon bows woven into the tops that used to be big ugly "man-boots". Thanks Dec, any time I need someone to paint my boots in the future - you're the one I'll beeline for.

Today was the first day I wore my super cute boots since the "boot makeover" which took place at Gran's house while she was in Florida and Nonie was asleep in the car in the driveway and Dec and I needed and searched (ransacked the entire house - more like it) for a rainy day project.

Anyway. I prolly got about 14 comments about these kicks today. I mean, wouldn't you comment if you saw them coming at you? Apparently, people think I'm creative.

Apparently, I need to go into business.

And I would be way more excited about this idea (have I created the "next big thing"???), except for the fact that all day long I couldn't find my cell phone.

Just typing it gives me angst.

Still can't find it. I've called it and the ringer is off. Why do I own a phone anyway?

So, I can't really focus on making millions by having Dec spend the rest of his life using Gran's circular sponges to paint big yellow polka-dots on $9 boots.

'Cause I can't find my phone.

Has anyone seen my phone?

It is pink.

Plain Pink with no Polka Dots.



Anyone?

Hello 911? Nonie here...

Hello 911?

(Wow, that was easy.)

Nonie here. Just calling to say that Mama is weeding and Dec is on his bike.

*

Hi. Hi. 911. That you?

Nonie again.

Dec fell and Mama just told him to slow down and that he is NOT ALLOWED to cycle through the swings.

*

Beep Beep Beep.

Me again. Hey, thanks for listening.

I'm thirsty.

Do you think I should climb the back stairs all by myself?

Or try to take a sip from Mama's seltzer bottle? I got a few steps up and the bottle caught my eye.

Just not sure I can unscrew this ca...

Mama is telling me not to climb stairs with things in my hands... gotta jump.

*

(What were those numbers again? 912? No wait, 911... Here they are.)

Hi. So, here's the update:

Dec is now digging in the sandbox. Mama is gathering sticks and throwing them into the forest.

This phone stuff is really great, huh?

What is this button for?

(Click.)

**********

4 times.

911.

4 times in 10 minutes.

I just thought she was being cute playing with the seltzer bottle and the phone.

Until...

***********

Hello? This is the Police calling to make sure everything is okay. YOUR CHILD has been calling 911 repeatedly and we need to make sure everything is okay. Can you verify your name, address.....

***********

Hi is Nonie there?

Oh Nonie. You are SOOOOO SO naughty.

And so advanced!

I love you.

Mama.

Click.

***********

Love is in the air

Dec forgoes the bouncy house for a pile of mulch. Gettin' dirty love.




Connor doesn't whip the water balloon at Gracie to soak her. Big cousin love.



Trip takes off dad's man-dals. Son love.




Nonie watches Xave tackle Annie from behind. Baby love.




Connor knees Chris in the back. Nephew love.




Maddy gets a pick-me-up squeeze. Granny love.



Kara is very long. Bouncy house love.

cough, cough

"I cannot go to school today,"
Said little Peggy Ann McKay.
"I have the measles and the mumps,
A gash, a rash and purple bumps.
My mouth is wet, my throat is dry,
I'm going blind in my right eye.
My tonsils are as big as rocks,
I've counted sixteen chicken pox
And there's one more--that's seventeen,
And don't you think my face looks green?
My leg is cut--my eyes are blue--
It might be instamatic flu.
I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke,
I'm sure that my left leg is broke--
My hip hurts when I move my chin,
My belly button's caving in,
My back is wrenched, my ankle's sprained,
My 'pendix pains each time it rains.
My nose is cold, my toes are numb.
I have a sliver in my thumb.
My neck is stiff, my voice is weak,
I hardly whisper when I speak.
My tongue is filling up my mouth,
I think my hair is falling out.
My elbow's bent, my spine ain't straight,
My temperature is one-o-eight.
My brain is shrunk, I cannot hear,
There is a hole inside my ear. (S.S.)



My mental health is much improved after this day.
As in, my head does not feel, anymore, that it will burst right off my shoulders.
I went for a good run in preparation for the 13.1 that is in 16 days but who's counting.
Inspired by Emah, I went and had my pigs painted pink. ELAPHANTASTIC!
And now, I shall watch Oprah and contemplate the toppings I would like to sprinkle my pizza with.
Because it is Friday.
Or is it Saturday?

teddies

"Mama, MAMA, I know the difference between even and odd numbers"

"really, bugs? wow- what is it??"

"well, it's all about teddy bears. "

"what? it is?"

"yeah. if there are three teddy bears, then someone doesn't have a partner. so that's odd. but if there are four teddies, then everyone has a partner. that's even.

see. it's all about teddy bears".

This little piggy....

I do a lot of things for my work that are pretty gross.

I am used to it and it doesn't bother me anymore, but for most people it is gross.

And I feel for the ladies and men at the nail salons, because they work with one of the grossest part of the body, and they get no break from it.

ALL DAY LONG.....toes, feet, calluses... a monontonous amount of peds.

And I know I don't have the nicest batch in the bunch. But I was validated the other day when I looked down the line and noticed that I did not have the WORST looking toes in the line. But maybe the BEST??

HUH?

There was a couple younger ladies who had some bunion, callus, crooked toe issues way worse then mine.

Then there HE was.

An older gentlemen.

And before I got a look at his feet I two things that let me know he was a special case:

1) The lady had on a mask to give the pedicure.

2) They were pulling tools the likes of which I haven't seen at the nail salon out of places they have never dug into before.

For the 15 minutes I waited to get my pedicure and the entire 30 minutes it took to get my (GORGEOUS?) nails done this gentlemen was still getting soaked and scrubbed...ON ONE FOOT.

Wow. That's a job for a specialist.

Poor little nail lady.

I walked out of there with my piggies shining and bright and for the first time I was PROUD of them.

Because I know I am not the worst.

The Big Dish Dance.

When there are big, dirty items in my sink - I find it really hard to do the dishes.

I can't seem to get past them.

Big bowls filled with greasy buttery popcorn residue.

Big pans lined with remnants from Pizza Friday.

What to do?

Avoid the sink.

Even though the easier to clean items are peeking from underneath it all.

I avoid the sink.

Avoid.

The.

Sink.

Until I think to myself:

look how big those items are.....

two of them cleaned and I'm more than 1/2 way there....

And suddenly, not-even-reluctantly- I find my dance card is filled.

With a shove of the sleeves and a snag of the suds.

I'm doing the Big Dish Dance.

Happy Mother's Day

There is but one and only one,
Whose love will fail you never.
One who lives from sun to sun,
With constant fond endeavor.

There is but one and only one
On earth there is no other.
In heaven a noble work was done
When God gave us a Mother.
-Irish Blessing




As a non-mother I don't know all of the feelings that a mother might have.
When you have a child, do you expect that after the years of teaching, coaching, playing, watching, helping, supporting, and cheering, the job will never be done?
And I mean never.
I know this become I am on the receiving end of these gifts.
I am the taker.
I am the one in need.
And she,
she is always the one giving.



She is calm and has the wisdom of someone,
that you can't help but turn to.
So I do.
Over and over again.



Always one to surround herself with lots of her own peeps,
she still can make you feel like you are the only one who matters.
In that moment, you are hers.
And she,
she will always be mine.

"Carry Your Boy"

The answer came faster and clearer than I wanted.

Moments within walking in the door of kindergarten today - it was clear - vividly clear - that:

He was ready.

And:

I was not.

His instant and firm grasp on "George's" tiny outstretched hand made it true and oh, so real.

He is ready.

George, Dec's kindergarten pal for the afternoon visit, led him to the rug. He introduced him to the other kids. One even reached out for a formal hand shake. Dec shook hands. My heart melted. Dec's smile grew bigger. He is ready. He is so happy and so ready.

And, I'd love to say that Dec looked back at his teary eyed mom and dad standing helplessly in the corner of the classroom near the hallway door.

But he didn't.

He didn't look back.

****

The other day, for some reason unknown to me (even after reflecting on it for a few days now), I scooped Dec into my arms and carried him through the parking lot on our way in to a store.

I think it surprised him (and me). He didn't argue. Rather, he placed his arms around my neck. It was comfortable. So I carried him.

It felt good.

I don't carry Dec often any more. My arms are usually filled with Nonie.

Just as we got to the door of the store, we passed an older gentleman who gave us nary a smile in passing. As we reached the door the man turned and said sharply, "Carry Your Boy."

I turned around to face him - not sure if he was speaking to me.

Our eyes met and I knew he was.

"Carry your boy," he said. "Carry him for as long as you can. My boy is 39 and I still have moments when I wish I could scoop him into my arms just as you're doing now with your son."

"I will," I promised the man. My words were spoken in a voice I hardly recognized. Tears stung my eyes as the man walked toward his car.

****

And so, I will carry my boy. My boy who is ready for kindergarten.

For as long as I can I will carry my boy.

And when I can't carry my boy any longer - I have a feeling he just might be ready...

to carry me.

Little Person spotlight #2

Another rainy, windy, gloomy, slumpy, frumpy, bumpy night.
Another cute little kid.



He's no ordinary boy, he is a wild bundle of fun. You might know him as Javier, or Chooch, or even fOx, I know him as the coolest pink helmet wearing kid in Sanibel. Though I suspect he's pretty cute in other places too.



Never one to miss a party, he is a guy who loves a good theme and prop. A munchkin after my own heart.



I won't hold it against him that it only took him 18 months to become a better skier than I am. It's just a part of the cycle.

Final verdict on the fOx: Pretty dern cute.
Best thing he gave me, and gave me, and gave me: Green flav-or-ice.
Things he likes that I don't like: Wearing a t-shirt, and nothing on bottom.
His favorite accessory from the FL house: Sweet cheeks rug.
As he put HIS sweet cheeks right on it.

Well done Emah!

are we ready?

i guess tomorrow is a good thing. it will prepare me for what is to come this september.

all i want to know right now is how did he grow so quickly. how could he possibly be ready.

is he ready?

we've focused so much on nonie visiting his school and getting acquainted with being there - that tomorrow has caught me off guard.

kindergarten.

kindergarten?

is he ready?

am i ready?

Ramblings from the post-road.

Here is how I shall remember each state:

Florida = I need a map. How is Orlando only in the middle?
Georgia = 75% of you is under construction and I never did see Paula Deen.
South Carolina = Florence. And I think there was this place called Pedro's but they should have advertised more.
North Carolina = Best radio stations to which Erin liked to sing along.
Virginia = Never get off at the Bank St. exit unless you are packing heat.
Washington, DC = There were some big buildings but you're not really a state so...
Maryland = No sign of Ace of Cakes from the highway so we drove on through.
Delaware = Thankfully short so Erin didn't have to curse the 55mph speed limit for too long. Curse curse.
NJ = Borders Delaware? Who knew!
NY = Good morning Annie Shea!
CT = Almost home.
NY again = THE GATE WAS CLOSED.

PHEW now that I have that off my chest I can get onto some more important matters.

Apparently of all the tchotchke's that I subconsciously wanted to steal from the Sanibel House, only one made its way into my bag. What are you picturing? A "Beach House Rules" sign? The parrot from the porch? Net webbing filled with booty above the sliding door?

Better.



A night light.

In other news, the horse from the backyard did not, in fact, die at the end of the fall. He's the brown dot in the center of this picture and he's alive!

Another surprise was to come home to green grass instead of white snow. It was the opposite of a Christmas miracle which was exactly what I was hoping for.



There were flowering trees and tuliping tulips!

All is right with the yard.

road blogging.