Happy Birthday

At this moment seventeen years ago placed in my arms was the being that transformed me from "me" to "mom". My sweet Princess A Happy 17th Birthday.

...And although this birthday may be, probably will be, reflected on as one of your lesser (considering all you have and are going through right now) it still gives reason for my heart to fill, to celebrate just them same.

Happy Birthday!

Thanks for making me a mom !!

God is Good

Despite the week's happening all I have to do is walk outside (sneeze) and be thankful...for the streets are lined with blooming pear and dogwood trees, the grass is green (begging to be mowed), Uli sleeps in puddles of warm spring sunshine, my neighbors giving there usual credence to the turning of season by sitting on there front porch in Adirondack chairs sipping Manhattans, neighborhood kids ride (there once hibernating bicycles) up and down the streets...

Despite the week's happening when I am inside I realize I am thankful ...for M's quick witted comments that make me giggle, singing Meatloaf songs with my girls, eating M's culinary creations, watching D break a sweat while practicing her new DDR Xbox game moves, for my chocolate box jigsaw puzzle (we all know I was insane to think I could put that together before spring breaks end) and mostly for Princess A's friends visiting beckoning her smile-- through her pain and discomfort, even with the set back, was screaming in her soul to be freed...

So I say God is good.

Total Exhaustion

I am so exhausted that I have a muscle in my abdomen that is twitching so that I envision Sigourney Weaver to appear in my living room to deliver an alien that must be itching to free itself.

Pure Exhaustion

Princess A: Mom are you tired of rubbing me?

J: No Baby Girl if I would be tired of rubbing you and taking care of my babies when one is sick I wouldn't have become a mom.

...And so Princess A continues to lay in the land of Precocet --per doctors orders-- on the couch for yet another day...and I continue to honor her (in recovery and pure exhaustion) by taking fetal position on the love seat, getting minimal sleep-- hour here, hour there armed with Percocet, eye drops and ointment.

The only difference between Princess A and a naked mole rat is...Princess A has clothes on, but both tunnel through there homes with closed eyes in total darkness.

All the while I softly sing to her I am 16 going on 17...if she isn't upright with her surgically repaired eye by Saturday, her 17th birthday, I will go down in history as the meanest mom for having her "repaired" this week.

Two kids with surgically repaired eyes in 8 months is a test from God of my mothering, nursing, back rubbing, chicken noodle soup serving, medicating on the clock skills.

I just might be passing this test with an A-.

Top Of The Day To You

I have been informed, by my grandmother, that we are to wear ORANGE not green for St. Patty's Day...you see we are of northern Irish heritage, and northern Irish wear orange...so orange it is for Princess A. I however heard on CNN that we should all be wearing white on St. Patty's Day, why I can't remember ( I was having one of those half asleep Saturday mornings on the couch)...so white it is for me.

In a strange turn of weather--snow--we chose to skip the downtown parade. Instead we are in the warmth of our house feasting on cocktail reubens, shamrock sugar cookies and Bailey's. If we get drunk enough we may allow the kids to dye the puppy's hair green...although the odds of us getting drunk is pretty slim.

******

My grandma was funny today when we talked on the phone...she told me Princess A was very pretty, that all my girls were pretty, especially in there Christmas card photo. I thanked her for the compliment (to which I always sum up to recessive genes). I said "grandma you would say that even if they weren't pretty" and she says "oh no I wouldn't"...to which I ask "what would you say" and she replies (while she laughs) "I wouldn't say anything at all".

*****

I should have gone out today I am having a fantastic hair day. I think I am at the grow out point were the hair looks good for about two weeks before it returns to that "are you sure you don't want a hair cut" look.

Now the hubby and I will play Scrabble. Isn't that what you should do after an entire afternoon of AMC's westerns marathon?

Not what you want with your morning coffee

I woke this morning at 5am, due to a combination of PMS insomnia and the King's alarm clock. So I strutted out to the kitchen sat at my computer and decided I would read the Post-Dispatch--my morning ritual.



However I found reading, or even looking at the computer screen disturbing--this is what I came face to face with...

CREEPY MUMMY!

Going To The Wilds

Today I spent a great deal of time making summer vacations plans. This family is headed West-- a good ole' fashion family camping vacation.

I have been reading my "Hiking Yellowstone National Park" book with fever.

Okay, let me make it clear I can camp without an electric box to power the camper--flash lights and lanterns are perfectly acceptable. I can even do the out house-- in Yellowstone language a "pit". But, I need a shower! I am not bathing in a lake, this isn't Survivor, there is no million dollars at stake for sacrifice. So the challenge was to find not only a campground in the park with showers (which from my book informs me I will have to pay for the luxury, it didn't note hot water so that remains the mystery) but also one that opened in early June.

I found it! Canyon Campground. Noted activities-- trails, waterfalls, photography, etc...all things that are important to us on this rugged trip.

Then I read the list of suggested items for day hikes--read like a typical scout list: day pack, water bottle, first-aid kit, survival kit (which basically means granola bars), compass, maps, toilet trowel...I stopped. Read again. T-O-I-L-E-T--T-R-O-W-E-L. Mary Mother of God I am not digging a hole to make a poo deposit!

Later when King Ralph returned from work I read him the list, stating quite emphatically NO TOILET TROWEL. Really come on I told him I can handle a lot of male Neanderthal qualities but digging a shit hole is where I draw the line. Then I think I saw a slight glimmer in his eye as I said the words toilet trowel once more. A glimmer like a dog should always leave his mark everywhere he goes.

So I guess what I have to wonder now is, how exactly will I know if he purchased a "toilet trowel"...what will it look like? Like a garden spade? Like a large serving spoon? Will I accidentally, unaware, pick it up to plant flower bulbs. Or will I unknowingly serve mashed potatoes with it? Will it come engraved with the word "toilet trowel" on the body of the tool?

You know what I think some good ole fashion female "hold-it-in-till-you-get-home" lessons are in order for the King. Don't you agree? It is never to soon to start planning ahead! Should I say planning bottom?

Burrrrrrp!

So there we are eating a family dinner of take out Steak-n-Shake--chili and fries and double steak burgers and Coca~Cola...when all of a sudden M rips out a belch of mammoth proportion...we all turned our heads. Of course being a mom, I said "e-x-c-u-s-e m-e"! To which M replies "I couldn't help it, you know, coke. It does that to me". To which the dad says, "would you do that in front of a boy you were on a date with"? Now M being the quick wit she is says,"how long have I known this boy"?

We tried to hold straight faces but that response made it difficult, laughter rolled across the dinner table.

We then ran through a myriad of options--long time, "you bet I would"...first date, "probably not, unless he was a horrible date and I was looking for a way to rid myself of the guy"......

So there you have it, a real lady--she's my offspring.

It's All In The Dreams

First let me say, weekends seem to be getting shorter as the school year nears end. The last 2 months of the school year always feel like an eternity.

Then I know you are all dying to know, and I am sure you will hear on the radio today (550am or you can listen on-line at FrankOPinion.com) as told by Dan and Ian, that our trivia team was marginally successful Saturday night--marginal means this team did not walk away with the box of Ding Dongs as did the week before team. But, Dan did manage to divulge a correct answer to the entire room while we ourselves scribed the totally WRONG answer on our round sheet.

Now to it's all in the dream...I have been dreaming for a week now strange things, things that don't really seem like they pattern what happened in my day. Last night I dreamt about keys, lots of keys...every other person in my dream willingly gave there keys up but I refused to give my keys up once I found them. I truly believe my strange dreams stem from my uneasiness about A having surgery in two weeks. You would think I would be calm about this stuff-- M having had eye surgery three times and Princess A already once--but I am not! I guess deep inside me there is a certain measure of guilt that A has this visual birth defect, that she has to have surgery over her spring break which includes her 17th birthday. I have to remind myself that in my dream I found my keys, held onto my keys...I can do it in my real life too!

Confession

I made a chocolate cake today--while the girls were at school. I made it while they were at school so I could lick the beaters and bowl without having to share the gooey goodness. Mmmmmm!

Does that make me selfish?

I am letting them eat the finished product.

Dreams

I am not much of a superstitious person, but I do believe on occasion there is something deep rooted in us that comes out through dreams.

So this morning I decided after having two very unusual dreams that I would consult an on-line dream dictionary--dam if those dream definitions didn't pretty much sum it up perfectly; and the two dreams connected (by definition, interpretation).

Superstition? Maybe. A sign? Probably. Telling me to relax. Most definitely!

____________________________

I just walked past the back door--there Uli sleeps on the grass in a puddle of sunshine...she is having a puppy dream...stretched out and deep in sleep her ear flinched, her tail flinched, she relaxes. I doubt she is dreaming of needles and thread but rather of a diamond studded collar and a Waterford drinking bowl.

Kind of, Somewhat, Totally Productive?

Empty dishwasher... CHECK
Load dishwasher...CHECK
Dust (inner and outer) curio cabinet... CHECK
Dust (inner and outer) china cabinet... CHECK
Take trash to curb...CHECK..I remembered
Wash kitchen floor...CHECK
Dust mop wood floors...CHECK
Make bed...CHECK
Launder King Ralph's uniform...CHECK
Clean microwave...CHECK...it's sanitary once again
Force self to run/walk on treadmill...CHECK
Windex back door windows...CHECK...wow that's what the backyard looks like
Clean off desk...DO I HAVE TOO?
De-limb the front and back yard...I'M GETTING TO IT, SOON, DEFINITELY BEFORE THE DESK!

...And I can almost bet someone will ask me, "what did you do today".

Aston Martin Optional

We are attending the high school's Class of 2007 trivia night...which got me thinking...Class of 2007... James Bond...Agent 007. Could it be a category?

I am so NOT a lover of Bond. So here I sit surfing the net filling my mind with useless facts--everything Bond, James Bond.

Here goes...

Did you know there has been 6 different actors to portray Bond? Did you know in the first Bond film "Dr. No" (which was released in 1962) Bond did not drive an Aston Martin, but rather a Sunbeam Alpine? There has been a total of 21 Bond films.

However I do know this, we both--myself and Agent 007--like our martinis shaken not stirred.

I must be losing my mind, I am cramming for trivia night for a category I can only assume will be. And if it isn't...well, I will be a walking book of Bond facts. How impressive is that!

Cook the fruit please...

March and the Midwest mean tornado sirens. So it was no surprise as I left out the door at 830am to retrieve M from school --as sirens blared in the background--for a doctor appointment that I headed out hoping I wouldn't be swept away to Oz.

Swept to Oz we were not; instead swept away in a most unusual timely doctor office fashion to an examination closest. After a chat with the doc, a nurse entered the room with her science kit of mixtures. Before long M's skin was welting up till she almost morphed into a toad like figure.

I believe as the doc recommended M do a science fair project on her newly diagnosed condition she roared in a laughter that resembled a sound only Dr. Frankenstein could produce--we knew then it as time to escape the laboratory and return to middle school.

The condition you ask, what is it, well...Oral Allergy Syndrome. Which means Maddi isn't allergic to the fruits that cause her to stop breathing instead she is having a reaction to cross-reactivity between plant proteins from pollen and fruits.

I am told M can eat, and in fact she has and does, these fruits (that are her enemy) in a cooked form without reaction... strawberry picking season means learning to make jam, apple and peach picking season means baking pies and cobblers, churning out apple sauce. I may have to think about taking up State Fair visits with my creations.

Wow, I may really become "Little Suzy Homemaker" after all.