Just When I Could Have Used the Octopus' Talent

While driving down Road Kill Avenue yesterday morning M and I heard some sad news on the radio; Paul the psychic octopus died. Paul lived 2.5 years, the expected life of an octopus.  Being a psychic octopus must have been stressful, cramming in all those predictions in such a short lifespan...and just when I could have used his psychic abilities.


What would I have asked ole' Paul?  If the darn school counselor will ever take care of something simple I requested so I don't have to get nasty.

Excuse me while I dress in my Halloween witch costume, light the seance candle and try to channel Paul for a prediction. Is this the way to shake an octopus from his grave?      

(Honestly, when I heard this on the radio I was more like--WHO THE HELL IS PAUL THE PSYCHIC OCTOPUS?!).

Everything M

Bet there are folks who are thinking, does Keeper have any other kids besides M.  I know, I know my posts these days seem to be focused on M, but that is only because this is her year. Princess A had her blog post year to hog type...that comes with being a high school senior.  D's is coming.

I forgot to take the time to toot President M's horn about her (and the DECA gal pals) first place finish in the mock competitions at the DECA Leadership Convention last week.  I believe the text I received with a photo of the first place medal said "another win for Madison".  Followed by her creative Facebook status that said "Respeca the DECA".  I love it when kids find their passions, find something that connects them to their school, giving them ownership and pride.  DECA is one of those things for M.   If I don't say so myself, a medal is a nice accessories to the business dress.

(aren't these girls all gorgeous?!)

So are you wondering what did M and I did today?  We made a college visit.  By way of road kill avenue.  At least that is what we renamed Highway 44.  There is a certain love that fills when being forced to add to the mutilation of a ground up deer carcass.  Uck!  About 50 carcasses later we made our way to the campus of Missouri State University.  It was perfect weather for a campus stroll.  Our best find was as soon as we stepped foot on the campus... who did who spot, who turned his bike around to chat with us...the one and only (short lived) boyfriend M had.  As he rode off I looked at M and said "I really did like him, I just never trusted him."  Then we laughed.  After the tour we made an impromptu visit to an old color guard friend.  Unplanned is the best way to see how college kids really live in those dorm rooms, eeek! What a mess!  I almost wanted to kick in my mom gene and clean that darn suite.  By the time we got in the car to head home it was decided this university has made its way to the top of the list...we have the Bear wear from the bookstore to prove it. 

Still the Senior Night info card portion of future plans will still read: undecided.

My info card will read: getting poorer!                

SWEET SIXTEEN

Sixteen years ago I stood in line at Target purchasing necessaries for a preschool Halloween party...when ouch I went into labor...a wee bit early.

After the Target checker had her moment of freak that a woman in labor with two small children in tow was in her check-out line; I made it home.  Back in the day of pre-cell phones I paged King Ralph, who then called his mom, who then made it home just in time for me to walk in the doors of the hospital to deliver a sweet five pound plus girlie who was then whisked away by ambulance to the NICU at Children's Hospital.

There you have it in a nut shell how D's life began.  She left me in a panic of difficulty from her start through her toddler years.  Calming about the time Kindergarten came calling.

Once a little tomboy who loved Hot Wheels to Barbies and mud pies to lip gloss.  Who wore the plastic wheels of her Big Wheel burning rubber on the sidewalk...hating anything that had a feminine flare. D has blossomed into a beautiful young lady with polished toe nails and bouncy natural curls molded with product.  All the things that until recently she turned her nose to.

She's smart and talented.  At times aggravating and lazy.  Through all the adjectives I grow more in love with my unplanned baby girl--our gift from above.

She is she.  Never being persuaded to be anything but herself.

And.

So.

We celebrate.

Keep skipping happily through life seeing what is ahead waiting for you (maybe a driver's permit).

Happy Sweet 16 Demi Anne!       

Nearing The End of an Era

For seven years King Ralph and I have sat quiet on the bleachers--sweating and freezing--watching marching band field shows at half time and at competitions. It started with Princess A tooting her flute out there on the field.  Trying to keep our eyes on Princess A in a mass of nearly 200 like looking friends, as if we were playing the shell game on the jumbo tron at the ball park, had its challenge.  Then came M. She joined the club spinning her flags, saber and rifle-- which was so much easier to keep the proud eyes on.

Last night the era of competitions came to its end.  The final competition in which I can take claim to having a kid of my own out there doing it for the team.  I was a bit ferklempted...okay a lot ferklempted.  I was never emotional when Princess A performed her final competition, maybe because I knew it wasn't "the end."  But my M, she drew out from me emotions that I must have been tucking away.  Saving for the end?  Whatever the reason my eyeballs floated in a well of water.  Especially when the rose swing flags separate.

Corny?  Parental pride?  Whatever you call it, call it from the heart.

I present to you for your viewing pleasure a third place finish, with a score of 82.45 at Greater St. Louis Marching Band Festival. The competition was incredible in the Gold Division, third place is taken with pride. The kids had a couple of phasing issues and a dynamic problem in the second tune...there was that one flag drop, but they all brought their game and rocked the house. Heck we are proud!

Thanks Princess A, thanks M for finding where you fit in at your high school, your nitch, giving us something to take up our time on the Fall weekends for the last seven years and watching you shine.


(side note: King Ralph may be issued a VIP (video in possession) for this recording.  So consider yourself watching a top secret video. hehehe)

The Week End

It feels like yesterday I woke up and it was Monday.  How did we get to Friday so fast?  However it is that we got to this point so fast-- I am glad!

The week offered me a chance to get a few things off my chest.  I am, of late, pretty good at biting my tongue.  The older I grow the less I feel like being bothered with airing feelings...sometimes it seems like a waste of energy.  Especially when it is something you know that when it ends you never have to visit again.  But when someone invites the dialogue...how could I refuse!  It was handled calmly and professionally.  Dare I say I felt liberated?  I felt liberated.           

Saturday I will wake to canvass for Prop L.  I am doing it because it is the right thing to do: for the students and for our jobs.  Then I will bun hair for nearly the last time in marching band history as M performs the field show in her final competition.  I think I will have tears in my eyes.  I WILL have tears in my eyes.  For some reason this year I am a band field show crier. 

I look forward to the end of zero hour being a part of this family.  How could anyone not want to celebrate the elimination of packing school lunch at 5am?  The only thing greater than an hour more sleep in the morning would be winning the lottery.  And, one has to purchase a ticket to win the lottery, so extra sleep is a grand scale win for me.

Monday...don't come looking for us till after 6am.  This house is sleeping in!

*****

Best thing I heard on the playground this week: a second grade boy playing soccer (as he cupped his hands over his zone) "protect the jewels guys."

Worst thing I heard at work this week: there is still lice. UGH! 

Best TV this week: Project Runway Finale Part 1.  I have fallen in love with Mondo.  I didn't think I would, but I did!  I did not fall in love with Gretchen.  I didn't think I would, and I didn't! 
Worst TV: Sister Wives.  I am still trying to figure out why Princess A feels compelled to TIVO a show about a man who is so full of himself that he thinks he should have four wives?  Or that I entertained the idea of even watching the bizarre show for ten minutes.  Twisted TV!  

             

You Just Stay In Bed

Hey you all, don't bother getting up when the alarm goes off.  You just keep on sleeping.  I wouldn't dare want to ask any of you to wake with M and I--really 430am is absurd in itself...for marching band no less.

Family in case you are wondering why your laundery isn't folded in your drawers and there isn't a four course meal on the table tonight, it's because I am dragging my weary bones to the bed after a long day of competition.

Don't make finals I'll see you bed at 6pm.  Make finals I'll see you bed at midnight.

I'm toren.

Making finals would be nice.

I suppose a nap on a school bus is a possible thing.  It may turn out to be the method to survival...if the kids make BOA finals. 

Only time will tell.  

What Does Your Refrigerator Say About You

Ever stand and stare at your refrigerator and wonder what it says about you?  I stood looking at mine often this week, occasionally picking up a heavy magnet clip that fell to the ground loaded with important kid information and realized...my refrigerator says a lot.  It says where have we been and where are we going.  It says you did a good job and we are proud of you. It says adventures.  It says I love Jesus.  It says friends.  It says helping someone to learn. Let's bake. Let's watch hockey tonight. Most of all it says I love my family.  We love each other! 

What does your refrigerator say?

Call Me Dr. Dolittle

Me: Uli your home! Where were you?

Uli: I was tired of running laps in the yard all day.  It's no fun when you can't invite the kids from the neighborhood over to race.

Me: You mean the other dogs? 

Uli: Whatever.

Me: So where'd you go?

Uli: Well when King Ralph, as you call him, left the front door open I decided I would sneek out to take a run and live on the wild side.  I came across a nice yard where I made a couple of new friends, pugs named Zues and Braxton.  They invited me to spend the night on the back porch with them.  I couldn't refuse.

Me: Did you have fun?

Uli: Sure we played nice together.  But you know they're boys and they started to not respect my female boundaries.  I suppose my freshly styled hair and my Halloween scarf really turned them on...I can't talk about it anymore it is to disturbing to relive.

Me: Uli, all male species like to get a little frisky with the ladies from time to time.  But why didn't you phone home?  We were worried sick.

Uli: I wanted too, but my tags fell off and I couldn't remember our phone number.  My new friends mom made a great breakfast and took me for a long walk on the leash.  She was really nice.  Sorry to worry you all.

Me: Your tags were there last week! Oh well you are home safe and sound.  I am also glad your new friends were fine hosts. I think D is going to make them an apple pie as a thank you for keeping you safe when you decided to run wild.  NO more leaving the house without permission!  You hear?!!

Uli: Ya.  Really there is no place like home.

Me: So true!   

Uli Phone Home

It all started when King Ralph walked out the front door, leaving it ajar, to look at the minor damage that M's co-worker/band mate's mom caused to her car.  King Ralph had M's car yesterday, I switched car's with him after work so M could have her car to drive to evening band practice.  As I stopped so she could cross the lane to hop in the car, co-worker's mom waited for her to cross and then proceeded to back into the car.  Never met co-worker's mom...but I have now. 

Like I said it all started when King Ralph walked outside at 8pm to survey the damage.

9pm D went looking for her beloved pooch only to find she was no where to be found.  Just like Toto she loves to run.  Given the opportunityty to run wild and free she'll take it!  We all hopped in cars to canvass the area.  M & D calling out Uli's name came upon two boys playing basketball in their driveway who alerted them a woman was walking with our doggy on a leash looking for the owner and said she told them she would send the little black dog to a shelter.  Uli has tags, a tag with her phone number stamped on a heart.  Why not call us?  We rushed home called the local police who directed us to the animal control division-- no luck. 

So we said our prayers last night that Uli finds her way back to us today. 

In the words of ET--ULI PHONE HOME!     

Festive Weekend

Update:  Big toe toenail was not recovered nor found on the sole of that Kindergartner with the heavy foot.  Guess I just have to accept I have a janky looking toe nail.  And. I recovered from that Thursday unexplained night of insomnia.  Cure.  A medium sized caramel frappe from Wired Coffee at 345pm.  There was no way I was going to make it all Friday night without a caffeine boast.  

The week...it was all about Homecoming! The proverbial spirit week had M all in form while D, full of Flyer spirit left the house each day looking like her regular self. M on the other hand was all into.  She did the "Twin Day" with her look alike Marketing teacher, dressed for "Circus Day" as a hippo (are there hippos at a circus?), wore her PJ's on jammie day....

There was Thursday's parade; a senior girl in a convertible and leading the "March of Champions".  Where my sophomore was bouncing around remains a mystery.  All that led to a bon fire.  A fire so big and so hot I am shocked my head is not a skeleton cause I swear my skin was melting off from the intense heat it gave off.

Friday's pre-game band dinner with their eighth grade band guests (selling the product),  football game, halftime show (with the show flags that finally arrived)

  before M made a white spandex mad dash to the other side of the field for a promenade/presentation of a court.


 
Then we slumbered.  Sleeping is a beautiful thing!
 
Only to wake to a crazed day of beauty shop and curling irons. Nail polishes and eye shadows. Sequence and satin. And Friends. Lots of friends.

Sisters.

Sophomores.

Seniors.

Then King Ralph and I crashed the dance; as invited guests. To see this...Homecoming Court.

It is a great day when the kids on the court aren't just the athletes or "popular" kids.  This is a representation of nice kids.  Kids that are liked for who the are: lots of band kids, theater kids, student council kids, smart kids....

M wasn't queen, not even a princess, but she had a great attitude going into this and when it was over she had the same great attitude...just happy her peers liked her enough to put her up there on that stage.   I might be partial but I sure think she had the prettiest dress up there on that stage.

Now it's back to regular weekly scheduled activites.  

BLOG HOLD

This blog is being temporarily interrupted due to:
1. My big toe toenail that resides on the bottom of a Kindergartener's shoe
2. The need to stare at Uli's new doggy do (b/c she wanted to look great for homecoming too)
3.. A severe case of insomnia last night, and I mean severe...last clock read was 3:43am
4. Homecoming weekend--last night's parade/bon fire, tonight's pregame dinner for the band/football game, Saturday's dance
5. Chili Day @work...need time to locate the Beano, or it could get ugly in the school today

Check up on me Sunday and see if I am kicking around again.

Until then...Happy Fall weekend friends!

Wednesday's Oxymoron

I just flipped on the morning news. In one breath they inform me it's National Walk to School Day--promoting physical health.  In the next breath they give me the school bus stop weather report.

Come on now Channel 5!  Do I walk or ride the bus?

Oxymoron.

I figure if I leave the house at 8am I should be to work on time.

But, who's gonna pick me up at 330pm...it is only walk TO school day, not walk home from school day?

So What If My Shoes Hurt My Feet

Yesterday I rummaged through my closest for the proper shoes, shoes to match my black pants and white blouse.  I went with black boots because one, it was cold out and two, the heel height was perfect for my always-to-long-pants.  The curse of being five foot four and one-fourth inches tall.

When I walked in the office it felt like a furnace.  Uhg. You want to complain but you don't realizing the right to complain about the hotness in a building is hardly worthy for the day.  The outside temperature was perfect for my long sleeve blouse.  It felt liberating.  As the day rolled on my feet were fighting the notion of being trapped.  My ten toes wanted to twinkle like Fred Flinstone as he foot peddled his car--free and breathing.  Instead my pinkie toe on my right foot was crying I want to go wee-wee-wee all the way home.  When my day was finished the BWFs and I loaded in the truck and drove to the funeral home.  The reason for the black pants, white blouse and black boots.  When the three of us entered through the doors the pain of rubbing leather on my little toe seemed to vanish; vanish with the notion that my temporary pain was nothing compared to the pain of my co-worker's forever broken heart.  Her family's broken hearts.  Laying to rest a son, a grandson , a brother....

As a staff we constructed a beautiful wreath of small hands in colorful papers.  Each of us in the building wrote words from our hearts of condolence to our friend and co-worker.  I started my message with the words of Psalm 34:18  The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.

I have now sadly watched three friends bury their children.  In no way the natural evolution of life.  It, at no time, has been an easy witness.  As parents we are not to bury our children.  Each of my friend's children left this earth to early, all taken by different cause.  Each mother and father however with the same cry.  Although the cry is different in sound to the ear, the pain of cry is all the same.  Heartwrenching!  A pain I can hardly fathom.

Once I was alone in the truck the boots were unzipped tossed to the side, the pain of the pinch by shoes not welcomed on my feet eased.  The guilt sets in.  The comprehension that my pain had an easy, quick fix can do that.

So next time you put on a pair of shoes that cramp and feel like a confinement...look at your children.  Then thank God that you can stretch your arms out and pull them in close to love them, to kiss them, to hug them, to talk with them, even yell at them.  Realizing never to take their presence in your life for granted.           

Yep, It's Fall

It's Fall.  I know this because the thermometer read 44* when I woke at 430am.  I don't think I am ready for layers of clothes and shoes that hide my toes.  No, please, don't let it be!

Although we had a change in calendar this weekend that caused an elimination of something really fun I thought we'd doing Friday night...it was okay to just sit back and chillax. 

It was a three day weekend for us so the house was bustling with girls galore on Thursday.  The color guard came over to tye-dye their section shirts, eat pizza and ice creams, roast marshmallows and enjoy a backyard fire.  When the color guard cleared house D and her possy took over the fire.  Girls, girls, girls.

Friday was M getting her senior pictures taken. While D and King Ralph went apple picking.  Princess A worked before scurrying off to SEMO for String Day...I think the saying was "we love live birth."  String Day, the day the sorority girls take a "daughter."  Even though Princess A is no longer at SEMO she still loves the AXO sisters. Evident as her dear friend arrived at our house and they hugged, smiled and loaded in the car.  They made me smile.         

Saturday we shopped for D's homecoming dress and took M's to the tailor for a nick and tuck. Then M celebrated friends' 18th birthdays at the apple orchard, D baby-sat and King Ralph and I sat in the leather recliners with nothing to say to each other...we just soaked the calm and silence of a teenagerless house for the evening while starring at the TV.  I liked it.  A weekend of no band. No football games. No competitions.  

Sunday I cooked a meal of comfort foods for a Fall day.  King Ralph and D made the dessert--apple pie, crust from scratch, filling from the apples they picked.  Once we filled our bellies with beef roast, carrots, corn, smashed potatoes smothered in gravy...warm apple pie ala' mode was a perfect Fall finale. 

This week, homecoming week, brings a calendar of obligations that stretch the entire week.  The clock hands will tap M awake early and bring her home late.  The one week I think I may say I HATE marching band. 

Well I suppose I should go dig through the mound of shoes at the bottom of my closest to find closed toe shoes.  UHG!                     

Repeat Pete Has Something to Say to the Color Guard

An early start to the Saturday meant practice before competition. 

Then the ritual guard transformation--hair, make-up, white spandex, rhinestone jewels....

Then to the field--for a prelims finish of 2nd place with caption awards for best music and BEST AUXILIARY.  Again.  And.  Lotsa trophies. Smiles.

Repeat Pete says: Color Guard, Color Guard you did it again! You brought the goods to the field each competition--, your "Seasons" is summer cause you are hot and on fire.  Sweet feeling of success for a section that has worked so hard for so long to gain the respect of not only the instrument sections of the band but the student body as well.  I know their grace and elegance is proving it.

Yep Repeat Pete has a beautiful echo when those eighteen beautiful girls in white spandex take to the field to show their grace and skill.

A Fall day that began with beautiful warm sunshine, that turned to a cold, rainy, gusting wind night did not hinder these 215 kids.  No way.  They finished the finals with a second place finish, a score of 86.65 and a caption of best music.  More smiles.

When the night is all said and done...it's time to "unguard" before heading to bed for a long night's well deserved rest.

Even though M sent me a text from the bus that said "tired of hearing-- 2nd place Lindbergh"...the kids have much to be proud of!

Going For A Repeat

I took Friday evening to the couch.  This gal needed some R&R in order to continue the recoup and let my gazillion drugs work their miracles.  I'm getting there,slowly.

Saturday is a different story.

I'll be doing this...making buns for eighteen girls.

My hope for them, there dream for themselves, is to have this look on their faces again with another trophy in there hands.

Lafayette Contest of Champions prepare for the fierceness of the Spirit of St. Louis Marching Band.  Here they come loaded with Flyers' dedication and determination!

Remembering Those Lovies of Yesterday

Princess A called me to her bedroom to help her with her new bed skirt.  In the dismantling of the mattress to get to the box spring and removing the old bed skirt an old familiar friend flopped to the ground--Peppermint Rose.  For years I use to swear my derelict father mailed it to Princess A in one of guilt packages.  Then one Christmas break we sat around watching old home movies when it revealed itself that Peppermint Rose was actually a gift from one of King Ralph's family members for Princess A's first birthday.

Peppermint Rose was not Princess A's original lovey, no she was a replacement for Baby.  Baby was the comfort pal of her life for more than two years.  Baby with her pink silky body and her plastic face.  She drug her along to the hospital one day when I was having some tests done.  Somewhere between the radiation lab and the parking lot Baby went missing.  I called every phone in the hospital, placed a APB out on her, filed a missing person report all to no avail.  baby was gone--forever!  My mother-in-law surprised Princess A with a replacement Baby and a fib that she found her.  Princess A was no two year old worthy of trickery.  She turned Baby over to reveal the black thread (cause that's what was in the sewing machine at the time and it was a stuffed doll for goodness sake) used to close up a restuff job was not there.  She lifted Baby in the air, slammed her to the ground and in her squeaky two year old little girl voice belted out "that's not my Baby".  For a year she went lovey-less, until one day without warning she pulled this Holly Hobbie like doll from a pile of stuffed animals, named her and feel deeply in love.  Peppermint Rose was born to her soul of comfort.  Ole' Peppermint Rose has been cried on when friends disappointed.  Has been slammed when parents didn't agree with choices made. Soothed through three surgeries-- regardless of Princess A's age (14, 16, 17).  Been an extra plump of pillow for sleeping. Peppermint Rose has traveled the world--from slumber parties down the street to across the country and across the world.  She never made it to college, by that time she was fragile.  Her arms laced to her body with safety pins.  Her guts held in too by yet more safety pins.  Her big round face sunk in from lack of filler...refusing a cotton batting botox injection.

Peppermint Rose has been a loyal lovey--never replaced. 

And yet in her ragged state of being Peppermint Rose still has a place of honor on Princess A's bed.

Not to be out done by Peppermint Rose, M had her years of love for Sugar Monkey.  Sugar Monkey came to us by way of a Build-a-Bear....a Girl Scout field trip.  Sugar Monkey was once soft plush like velvet now a matted rough animal.  She was easy to want to snuggle all day and night.  Sugar Monkey made the same rounds as Peppermint Rose--slumber parties, camping trips, cruises, airplane rides....  The crazy thing about Sugar Monkey is although M always claimed she was a girl the rest of  us claimed her to gender confused. Me mostly because when I would make M's bed in the morning while she was at school, tossing Sugar Monkey on the bed she often landed with her tail between her legs.  A sign of a male.  As M entered her teen years folks often purposely would set Sugar Monkey on the bed in that center fold porn position just to get M all riled up.  Squeals from her room would be heard "Sugar Monkey is a girrrrrlllll!!!!"   Sugar Monkey was constantly under torment, she took many rides on the ceiling fan blades which sent M into hysterics and tears.  Sisters. That is all can say.  One freshman day in high school without warning Sugar Monkey took a permanent vacation to the top self of M's closest.  Sure Sugar Monkey was loved, she offered the same comfort all lovies offer-- heart ache from friends, healing after countless eye surgeries, extra lift to the night's slumber...I guess my M grew up when I blinked one day and didn't need her monkey love anymore.

Today Sugar Monkey popped out for a keepsake photo shoot.

 Oh Sugar Monkey I still believe you to be gender confused. Just look at you, you say male.


Then there was D's lovey, or should I say lovies.  First there was Bob, always Bob.  Bob started out a lush fluffy nursery comforter.  Bob, before named Bob, covered up everyone of my baby girls as they slumbered in their infant state.  Bob is now but a large square of muslin.  Bob was strung between D's legs and nuzzled up under her chin and lulled to my girly to sleep.  Bob has been washed more times than I can count; washed from being drug through mud, held during meals, urinated and puked on and washing was always done on the sneak.  Then came the years of "Land Before Time" obsession.  Every character of that movie series in plush form was gifted to D and lined her bed.  However Chomper was always front and center.  Chomper was drug all around town--grocery stores, play dates, family gathering, where D went Chomper went.  Chomper if accidentally left behind required instant emergency retrieval.  Tears flowed and nights would be sleepless if Chomper didn't join Bob for a night's rest.  Although D never liked the femininity flares of girlhood (till recently)-- Chomper did, he got a red lipstick lip painted above his fierce teeth.  Which stained his fur.  Open his mouth for signs of lesson learned--ability to write "no" and teach a dinosaur that biting is unacceptable is marked in ink inside his mouth.  Another sweet stain on the lovey.  Finally along came Mr.Lion.  Mr. Lion was a gift from the creepy Santa that visited an annual Santa party we attended each year at M's godfather's house.  The Santa, creepy as he was with his over active sweat glands and request of a fan to blow him cool, always arrived with gifts in his sack.  One year it was the softest silkiest stuffed lion.  For a while D was smothered and cramped in bed by not one, two, but three lovies.  A sign she was always a high maintenance child.  In time Chomper was outgrown.  Mr. Lion and Bob stuck.  Mr. Lion was so loved he went from having a full standing mane of fur to looking like Don King.  D loathed when we referred to Mr. Lion as Don King--such disrespect.  Then, just like M, with no warning of ween, Mr. Lion took permanent seat else where.  Bob hung on till eighth grade.  High school started and Bob was folded up and with precious care placed in the storage room for safe keeping.

Memories tucked tenderly in safe keeping. Memories I can imagine emerging for show and tell when the girls are mother's themselves. Makes me think...remember...my baby girls.  I blinked and they grew.  Grew up. Still growing up.  Growing up minus the lovies that were there childhoods yet knowing with all that love these mother's arm still offer love that cannot be replaced or stored away.             

DayQuil Wasn't Gonna Be The Cure

I went to the doctor today.  I got a lecture on heart attacks in asthmatics.  It seems my heart was working awful hard since I was struggling to breathe.  I didn't wait a month before I headed to the doctor-- like last year.  I started to feel bad Saturday night, by Sunday I felt like crap, I drug through the work day on Monday and as soon as I walked out the door I dialed the doctor for an appointment. That did win me a few points after the lecture.

Why do we moms take such great care of our children and our spouses but not ourselves?  Do we tend to believe we are invincible?  Or just to busy caring for everyone else to stop for: me?  

Anyway I took a sick day.

I am all jacked up on albuterol breathing treatments.  Steroids.  Antibiotics. Inhalers. Allergy meds.  I was the pathetic customer at the pharmacy--everyone there was ah poor galling me they said as they filled my gazillion prescriptions that the doctor sent in electronically.  I'll survive, yet again.  I always do.  Maybe I'll have some roid rage...sleepless nights, headaches, irritability... my family just loves a dose of mother's roid rage.

In the mean time this thing is my new best friend...

...at least for the next 24 hours.  Then with any luck I can stuff this noisy beast to the back of the closest for a long-long-long time.  

Monday's Check List

Kleenex. Check.
Nasal spray. Check.
Inhalers. Check, check.
Dayquil. Check.
Nyquil. Check.
Vick's Vapor Rub. Check.
Cough drops. Check.
Chap stick. Check.
Kleenex.  OH CRAP-O-LA THE BOX IS EMPTY.

Somewhere between Farmington and South County this horrible illness grabbed a hold of me and won't let go. The throat aches. The ears are clogged.  I can't breathe out of my nose.  I can't stop blowing my nose.  At times I can't stop my nose from running like a faucet.  Now I can't stop coughing, which has brought on a wheeze and a grab for the inhalers. I considered using some of my banked sick time today until a text came in from my BWF who said she was home sick with a stomach bug.  Then that dedicated employee syndrome kicked in...shot of Dayquil with an orange juice chaser, out the door--in body not in spirit.  My every move was so robotic today it's hard to remember how I got from point A to point B.  Not to mention with Fall on the breast of nature it was a blazing 90* making recess duty feel like a jail sentence.

I came home shed my professional wear for gym shorts and a tee, curled up in bed and vegged.

I made a semi-homemade chicken soup (semi-homemade is when you buy a baked chicken and frozen carrots...anyway Sandra Lee would be proud). Ate. Went back to bed.

I feel no healing powers from the chicken soup.  Who decided this?  That chicken soup heals?  It was tasty with it's fresh spinach, carrots, corn and noodles....but the doctor's office is still awaitin' me!

From the time I walked in the door this afternoon to the time I woke from my sick nap Princess A's bedroom went from Laura Ashley pink and light olive green to a bright lilac and grey.  Off came the flowered spread and on goes the white on white polka dot spread.  Gone are the marks of a childhood and welcomed are the marks of a girl inching towards twenty-one-- womanhood.

In one room M types away an English Lit paper, while D dinosaurs around the house in her PMDD state of being.  King Ralph, God love'm, he tolerates it all.      

Tomorrow.  Well that's a trip to the doctor before deciding if the truck should continue down the road to school...I mean work.

I feel like CRUDD! 

Coming Full Circle

There is a good chance that Farmington, Missouri is really where the equator line sits on the globe...that was one H-O-T Saturday! I have sat a many Saturday's in September on the metal bleachers of Farmington High School, never have I sweated like I sweat yesterday.  When I stood it looked like I had a bladder control problem.  Actually all us moms looked like we needed to invest in a package of Depends.  My hands were sweating and feeling like I dipped them in a pond.  Who's hands sweat?  I guess mine do.  Kids from other bands were passing out.  Even a drum major from one of the schools passed out during awards.  Crazy- humid-sun-beating-down-hot!  Kinda sad though...that was my last first competition of the season.  I've run out of marching band kids.

Guess who was really "hot" on Saturday?

Lindbergh High School's Spirit of St. Louis Marching Band was hot!

Oh ya, they were on fire.  Fired up on the competition field for the Class 6 bands.  For M it was coming full circle.  The first competition of her freshman year color guard won the caption award for best auxillary.  Saturday was the first competition of her senior year and the guard won the caption award for best auxillary.  I must admit I had a lump in my throat as the band performed their show.  Is it because it was hitting me that it was the last time I would be having my own first competition of the season moment?  Maybe.  I had that same lump when they announced the kids won captions for both percussion and guard.  Two sections that have struggled to capture for the last two years.  And dam that lump it was back when I called King Ralph, who is out of town at Bikefest, to tell him the great news.  I know if you would have lifted my sunglasses I looked like Renee Zellweger's character in Jerry McGuire when Tom Cruise's character proposed and he lifted her glasses to expose her eyes.  Yep my eyes were moist under the sunglasses.  Nothing like a marching band to brew emotion.  The band placed second in their class... that's okay, because we know in our hearts they are all first place kids .  Better was when the scores came out it showed our color guard scored the highest of all the guards in all the classes.  They blew'em  away.  So I guess all that hairspray and potential wardrobe malfunction from one shouldered performance uniforms on girls with well endowed chests;  avoided with the use of yards and yards of body tape and safety pins paid off.  And paid off well.  We got the trophy to prove it!   

Even after a much needed shower to wash off the gallons of sweat the feeling of pride for a show well performed...well that feeling can't wash off, it's sticking.

So I Lied

I said I wouldn't be back till Monday...maybe Sunday.  So I lied.  It's Saturday and incase I start losing my mind it is probably because my brain got suffocated somewhere between a can of Aqua Net and a can of Suave 10 mega hold spray-- from bunning all the hair of these crazy chicks dressed in white. 

The white outfits, well that's a story for Monday.  Or Sunday.  All depends.

Princess A is joining me in the chamber of hair spray suffocation and in the spectator section.  D would rather stay home than endure hours of bands while contracting bleacher bootie...kid doesn't get it after all these years.    

So I part for a turf field calling our band and a trophy somewhere out there begging to be in the hands of a Flyer.

TGIF!!!

It has taken a long time to get from Monday to Friday.  I can't explain it, there isn't really a reason.  Just one of those unexplained slow moving weeks.

I am going to spend the weekend away from hallways lined with plastic trash bags suffocating lice (the itch of my scalp is a physiological thing, I promise) with my butt firmly planted on metal bleachers and eyes on the band.  Of course a bit of concession stand delicacies to top it all off.  

It's Friday Night Lights on the muddy grass field and Saturday competition on lush green turf. 

King Ralph is out on the open road having a man motorcycle weekend.  Aaaahhh. Yes.  Absent makes the heart grow fonder.  

I'll be back on Monday...or Sunday.

Hail to the Chief(s)

I forgot to mention last Friday it came to be I live with the President. Well a Co-President.

These two lovely girls won the DECA President election. They're sharing the duties.

By the lack of chores done around this castle the President thinks she has veto powers. I got news Miss Prez...it's not gonna happen!  Sorry, when you enter the castle you become a serf again.     

Turning the Darndest Thing Into Marching Band

Remember this sad news story that the interviewee made into an unfortunate YouTube humor success?


Then some visionary rapper saw a song in it...and got this YouTube


Finally some musical genius turned it into a musical score


Before taking it to the field


This my friends is how you rev up the football crowd.

Hmmmm wonder if the Spirit of St. Louis Marching Band could get away with performing that on the field...or in the stands for a bit of football pep band? Think your band could?  

I'll Gladly Pay You Tuesday For A Hamburger Today

Friday's bring the usual...

Friday Night Lights. Hamburger and bottled water from the concession stand and...marching band.  Except this week's the-Flyers-win-yet-again game was a pink out game-- new fashion all the schools are doing to support Susan G. Komen For a Cure.

The color guard girls decked out in new section t-shirts and pink bows in the hair to wear with warm-ups for the night.  A night of muddy field and mist in the air.

The fans dressed in pink. The teams in pink. The cheerleaders in pink.  The band dressed down for tromping in the mud, sporting pink leis and ribbons while the guard added an extra touch with pink flags. Their little surprise to the band.  

Saturday M headed off to Columbia to check out and hang out with Marching Mizzou.  Decisions. Decisions.

D went to yet another Sweet 16 birthday party.  It's the season!  It's the season my wallet is wishing my kid wasn't so liked by so many.

Which left Princess A, King Ralph and I to hang with my little brother who really needed our good company.  And us his.  We ordered the most delicious pizza and played with his new doggy.

Sunday we skipped church, slept in (sssshhh maybe Jesus didn't miss us as much as we missed him), waited for M to come home and then King Ralph and I hit the highway with our favorite Harley riding cousins.  We took the ferry over to Chester, IL where we checked out the Popeye Festival.  I saw the Popeye Museum was inside the Spinach Can Store and refrained from entering for fear it would be similar to the Oz Museum.  I didn't need anymore family hating on me than my own daughters for visits to strange museums. My favorite was some lame imitation of WWE wrestling in a ring outside the Knights of Columbus hall.  Only at the Popeye Festival!   Now I can say I've been and I'll never need to return. I am certain this little river town is rather quaint and inviting when it isn't full of traveling carnival rides and smells of fried foods sold from makeshift wooden stands.

We skipped out on a Whimpy burger, found our way out of town to a favorite BBQ joint.

I'm now going to ice my buttocks as they are sore from a 170 mile ride on a seat the size of a snack cracker... and wait for Monday to come around.

Friday Forecast

Everything Is Starting to Come Up Roses

Well I am over the fact I didn't have my ticket drawn to win anything last Friday night at "Pasadena Nights"... so I figure what better time than now to reflect on the fun had last weekend.

The weekend started by packing M's lunch extra early so she could head to school for 15-minutes of fame.

Pasadena Nights brought out past parents of band whose kids marched down Colorado Blvd to support this new bunch of band kids.  It even brought out a good handful of those kids who marched down Colorado Blvd back in 2005.  Like Princess A supporting her little sister.  She even did the color guard's make-up that night.

When the band was selected to march in 2005 Tournament of Roses Parade I was on the committee that entertained the president.  We had a wonderful dinner/auction at the Bowling Hall of Fame, geared towards adults, that followed the Cardinal game in which the kids performed the National Anthem.  While the adults where upstairs placing the highest bid on great items and sipping cocktails...the band kids where in the lower level bowling, working out the DDR and some arcade games getting jacked up on Mountain Dew.  The event was a success.  So I feel I have the right to say--Pasadena Nights was a great, even dare I say, a better event.  I say this because it oozed community spirit. 

The local restaurants that came out to serve free food "samples" (I use that word loosely because the portions where full servings) were very generous.  I managed eight of the twenty punches offered on my card before my stomach screamed FULL.  I stuffed it with Dunkin Donut holes, Costco cake, Merbs chocolate, Hwy 61 Roadhouse pulled pork and smoked chicken wings with hot sauce, a Chik-fil-a sandwich, the famous "bandwich", Cafe Manhattan's toasted ravioli and washed it all down with a Diet Coke. Mmmmm good!                

The exciting part of the night was the band didn't have to compete with the football team and pompom squad that night for time on the field.  They performed a field show and more for the TOR president. The kids will say that wasn't there best field performance since so much of the week was devoted to parade music...regardless the quality we parents are always their best cheerleaders, alwasys thinking they are great.

Just as the night ended the morning came with yet more hanging with the TOR president.  This time at Busch Stadium.  First with a lunch of ball park foods--hot dogs, brats, nachos....  Then the kids headed on to Clark Street to perform for the arriving fans. 

   

Of course in any downtown there is always the strange and odd that come out...say like a creepy Barney giving out free hugs.

 

My brother-in-law, niece and I bid M, the band kids and parents farewell-- as they all climbed elevations proportionate to a mountain to those grand seats known as the nosebleeds-- and headed to our great-eighteen-rows-from-the-field-behind-the-Reds-dugout seats.  Tickets compliments of KTRS 550. We got all comfy with the obnoxious Reds fans that surrounded us and waited for the band to play the National Anthem.  Then we licked our wounds as the darn Reds won the game. 

There you have it, a weekend devoted to things "coming up roses".

Does L Stand For Lucky

Look at all the great stuff I won last night.

L may stand for Lindbergh, but it does not stand for lucky...more like loser.

I won't be making a deposit at the bank. I won't be sipping tropical beverages with my feet in the ocean and sand.  I won't be kicking back watching TV on the big screen, and I even marked off the spot to hang it.  Nope. I'm a loser. 

So I'm going to take some time this beautiful long weekend to come to terms with...not winning a darn thing in any of the raffles (this includes the baskets and the 50/50).

I'll be back with pictures and stories of a fun weekend that was pretty much--all about our M and the band.

In the mean time you can listen to this.

  

It's A Party Tonight-- Pasadena Nights

THIS IS THE WINNING TICKET

I feel it!

When King Ralph and I win

 this is how the crowd will celebrate

 

If When we win the grand prize we'll take the

'Cause CASH IS KING!

But if we end up with the second prize 

 

I'll be just as happy with a suitcase of sun tan lotion

and a tropical beverage.

Third place, well that'll do us just fine too...

placed over our fireplace

while we watch our favorite flicks

and eat popcorn.

  

So, basically we plan to win something tonight.

Just like we did last time the band had a raffle.

So feel free to come on out tonight and cheer, I mean congratulate us.

The Friday Night Lights

won't be shining on the football team

 at Flyers Field tonight--

'cause tonight at Flyers Field, 

it's all about the band

It's a little big thing we call

PASADENA NIGHTS.

September

To welcome in September let's all sing and dance together.
 

Just be glad I didn't chose Niel Diamond to say hello September.

Eve Bunting Wrote A Book About It --Nasty, Stinky Sneakers

 If Hell had a bottled smell it would smell like these sneakers-- M's marching band tennies.

I tell you these shoes smell worse than sh@*! I have changed baby diapers that compared to, smell like a rose.  I would almost rather camp out in an outhouse than have those beastly sneakers in my car--the scent lingers, for weeks.  How to expunge the odor is a challenge of maximum proportion!  I have tried letting the fresh outdoor air and sunshine bake it out.  I have washed them in boiling hot water, with every type of detergent, coated in Spray-n-Wash, extra Tide sprinkle in the shoe for the washing and then followed with a sprinkle of baking soda in the shoe.  To no avail the scent sticks. Not an ounce of the pungent smell seems to leave.  It is stuck like feather to tar.  Friday night I had to walk down the band hall to find a teen-- consider it a miracle that I sit here with my fingers clicking on this keyboard-- I was hit with the smell of those sneakers times five-hundred.  

Deadly!

After a morning of zero hour and first hour of marching practice, every kid removes their sneakers coated in morning dew then places them in a dark locker that is sealed till the next day. Ech shoe is breeding a bacteria that I swear no janitorial product known to man can cure (and probably no biologist has scene under a microscope). However, I have vowed to find a cure for the stench allowing the M's shoes to enter my house.  As of now, actually for the last four years, they have been grounded to the garage only.

(The photo shown was taken in my front foyer on the way to the garage)

So what does a mom do? She Googles "how to rid odor from tennis shoes".  Here is what the search options are: wash sneakers, dry them, place them in a large zip lock and place in the freezer overnight.  The article swears cold kills the bacteria created from smelly wet shoes.  And, kitty litter in a knee high nylon then stuffed in the shoe.  The article promising that kitty litter draws the moisture from the shoe plus the odor.  I suppose I will give it a try. What do I have to lose?

So if you happen to open my freezer tomorrow to grab a toaster strudel just shift the sneakers--but do not remove.  If you happen to bring you cat by for a visit don't let him think the sneakers are the litter box. 

If none of these crazy ideas work then the final option is-- burn'em!      

Under the Friday Night Lights

Friday Night Lights mean a few things for me. It means: glam girls, hair spray hands, bleacher bootie and parent pride. Not mention a whole lot of touchdowns!

While a field show is a work in progress; teasing us at the first football game with two movements and practice flags...the second show should be guard girls in the guise of white Lycra and ruffles, sparkling under those lights with glitter and rhinestones, twirling fabulously fantastic flags to the melodic tunes of "Seasons".  Horns will blow, drums will beat, flutes will flutter, flags will spin and the band will bring down the house--under those Friday Night Lights.

Last night's game ended with fireworks, figuratively not literally, wondering if the opponents ever showed for the game; which was good for the band--more audience.  The audience gathered round the marching band as they took to the stadium courtyard to sing.  Yes, I said sing.  A singing marching band, which one would think should be full of tone deaf kids that would send Simon Cowell screaming his insulting blips.  But, no, when those kids opened their mouths they revealed a hidden instrument--their voices, their singing voices in four part harmony.  They sounded like the Mormon Tabernacle Choir.  It was the sound of Joy to the World by tune of the Lindbergh High Alma mater.  It was a chorus of green and gold clad angels.  We live in a community that so many plant there own seeds back in the soil.  You could probably ask a thousand alums in those stands to sing the Alma mater and blank stares would greet.  I am one of those blank stares.  How exciting it is to think these 231 kids will leave the same school I attained my high school tassel from and will know a song that gives them pride and ownership to the ties that are said to offer up "the best years of your life."

So until next Friday when "to Lindbergh High we raise our voices"...and our trumpets, trombones, tubas, clarinets, saxophones, sousaphones....

Wordless Wednesday

My M. I just think she is so darn adorable.

Reflection

Sunday on our way back from Johnson's Shut-Ins we stopped to visit the in-laws.  The girls wanted to swim more, since they live on a lake.  Princess A wanted every last ounce of sunshine her skin could absorb--working in a doctor's office Monday thru Friday in the summer months leaves a 20-year old girl pale--her grandma's house was just the place.

We gathered at their kitchen table, conversation quickly turned to "what we were doing this time last year".  Last year I remember I was exhausted, all the time.  For three months I went from work to the hospital for the night shift of keeping my mother-in-law in company.  When she was transferred to the hospital across the street for rehab King Ralph and I shared the job of "keeping her company"--I went right after work, then he came when he got home from work so I could run the girls to activities.  Her husband left when I arrived so he could rest.  I think keeping her mind going and working helped in her healing process; keeping her lucid and lessened her moments of rambled thoughts...thoughts that were at times very Alice in Wonderlandesque.  Still no matter what we say to her today we cannot convince her that during her two brain surgeries there were no bugs removed from her head. As we all sat around talking about her latest doctor report (no surgery as of now to place a metal plate on the skull area left open and no doctor visit for a year) she looks at the girls and says: "there is something about your grandma you don't know".  King Ralph was prepared to hear some deep dark secret of his mother's past...when she says..."I collected the bugs when I was at the doctor and brought them home and threw them over the balcony."  Her husband rolled his eyes up and shook his head.  What do say to someone who still struggles with the symptoms of brain surgeries.  I'll tell you what I said.  I said "great Mom, then the bugs are in the lake and they are gone, forever, never to return.  You can stop worrying about the bugs."  I am telling you all that must have been one vivid dream she had when she out of it.  She swears the doctor removed bugs that had faces like Jim Carrey.  Why Jim Carrey we'll never know.  But no one, not us, not her husband, not her daughters, not her grandchildren, not even her doctor can convince her she had NO bugs in her head removed. I doubt too that that is the last we'll hear about those bugs. I also think we should hide all the Jim Carrey movies they may own, just in case.

Bugs or not, a year later it is quite the miracle she survived all she did and is back in a darn good place all around.

It sure feels good to start off the school year not completely exhausted physically and mentally!