Hairy Situations with a Side of Streaking

I don’t know if this is normal for everyone else, but I have to completely prepare myself the night before for outings the next day.  Going out into public with my three (O is 5, M is 3 and C is 20 months) is insane.  I often feel like I’m preparing for battle.  Coffee maker is ready. I have the clothes laid out, ready to go.  The shoes are by the door.  The diaper bag is fully stocked with the essentials and snacks of course, to help the hangry melt downs.  Water bottles are ready to be filled and I have in mind what breakfast is going to be.   I have them covered, but I can’t tell you how many times I’ve left myself uncovered.  Bra, what bra?? Damn it! But come on this is motherhood.  No matter how prepared we try to be things are always chaotic.  Or is that just me? 

I called my mother today on my way home from the girl’s haircuts and had the discussion of, is this normal or just my circus?  When we get to the salon I find a parking space right by the front door!  Score, one it is a 100 degrees out and two I don’t have to dodge other cars with the kids.  I get the kids inside and run into my first obstacle, the giant glass bowl of mints.  O runs right up and dives her hand in. 

“One! Just one!” I yelp as I’m hanging onto M by the armpit, as she decides to go limp and dump out her Daniel Tiger backpack full of ABC blocks in the elegant entryway.  On the other side I have my hand tight around C’s leash.  Okay, time out, don’t get high and mighty with me.  C is wearing a super cute bright pink butterfly back pack, that she loves, and it just so happens to have a little leash attached on the back of it.  She gets the feeling of freedom running around and I get the feeling of reassurance she won’t get hit by a car. Win win.

O gives me a furrowed brow and grabs a couple mints.  “One is for M!” she justified.  A nice older gentleman sees my peril and helps M put her blocks back in her bag.  I sincerely thank him and make my way back outside to the court yard to my stylist suite.  The one thing I have going for me, is that it’s a small courtyard with no other exits.  It has a beautiful water fountain in the middle and lots of pretty plants.  The other suites have big windows looking out into the yard.  When we get there, the girls excitedly move into her suite.  Shoes are taken off, The Grinch is starting on the IPad and snacks are being distributed.  O quickly unwraps her mint and shoves it in her mouth and climbs up into the chair.  Everyone is engaged and being good.  So I stupidly take a relaxed breath.  You know what that means. 

As I’m watching O get three inches of her hair cut off, I hear a big gush of water followed by a startled tiny scream. My stylist and I both jumped and turned around to see M standing at the shampoo bowl on the chair, being pummeled with water by the hose.  The stylist quickly turned off the water and I assessed the damage.  M looked like she just took a causal stroll through a car wash.  So I stripped her down to her pull-up and cowgirl boots, and mopped up the mess.  In the meantime as I’m wiping up the floor, I notice C isn’t watching The Grinch.  In fact she isn’t in the suite at all.  Shit! My heart starts to race once again and before I can completely panic I see the end of the pink leash stuck in the door.  I run over to the door and look out.  She is leaning forward like she is flying, being supported by the entrapped leash.  I grab the end and open the door.  She is quite pleased with herself for escaping, well kind of, during the chaos.  Sometimes I wonder if these two plan these moments. 

I pick up C and set her back by the movie. Then I turn around to see a naked toddler in a pull-up and cowgirl boots run by, giggling uncontrollably. Wait, NO!!! That’s my naked cowgirl giggling toddler! I run out into the courtyard to get her and of course she thinks this is the best game ever.  As I’m chasing her I can see people coming to the windows laughing really hard at this spectacle.  I finally catch her and M says “Yay mommy you did it! I’m so proud of you!”  Thanks M.  We finally make it through the haircuts.  Did I mention my stylist is a saint for putting up with us?  As I’m trying to pay, C is rearranging all the product on the shelves.  M is trying to climb the chair to get a cup of coffee and O is just staring in the mirror, posing with her fabulous new hair style. 

We make it all the way to the entrance with no more incidents and I think we are in the home stretch, I mean I can see the car out front, when M takes off for the stairs.  Did I forget to mention that M is still only wearing a pull-up and cowgirl boots during all of this? O see’s the giant glass bowl of mints and heads over to grab some more. I start after M, as I’m yelling “No more mints O!” However I forget that I have a small little person attached to me by a leash and starting dragging her along with me.  The receptionist jumps up to help me out and grabs M, as I’m trying to help up poor little confused C. 

“Please let me help you out to your car.  I see you have your hands full.” the receptionist said kindly. 

“Thank you so much and you have no idea.”  I replied. 

Ice Cream and Deadbolts

Ya’ll this afternoon was hot. Like you better inhale that Bomb Pop now before your face looks like a scary ass clown kind of hot. Luckily O was at camp this afternoon, so I just had M and C to cart around. It’s amazing how being one kid down feels like a mini vaca! Target was kind of a breeze.  I could’ve spent an entire day and salary just looking around, but I could tell I was on a very limited time frame with the girls and we still had to go pick up the dog at the groomers.  I love it when Georgia, our dog, gets groomed. One she smells way better and two she looks like a very cute shaved Ewok. When we got home from all our errands, the girls were begging to go outside and play in their ridiculously awesome playhouse.  Thanks again mom and dad. By this time of day it’s in the shade so I said go ahead. I needed to get some things ready for dinner anyway and it would be nice to do so without toddlers ridding on my legs like a couple of koalas. Although my calf muscle are looking tight lately.  

After a few minutes I realized that things were too quite. You know what I mean? Kind of like when all the birds stop chirping when a big storm is near.  So naturally I dropped everything and sprinted outside to see what they were doing. Well M decided that the house needed a little face lift or she thought she was the next Van Goh.  She colored the entire side of our brown house, including the door, with bright blue chalk. I have to admit for the time she had unsupervised she covered a lot of ground.

“Why did you color the house?” I asked.

“What?” she looked at me with giant innocent eyes and a bright blue hand. 

“Chalk stays on the ground only!” I said raising my voice and trying to keep my cool.

I told her to go into the house, which she was not pleased about at all. She started to melt down and asked for her binky, for like the billionth time and of course I said no, yet again. Side note, this is day 2 of no binky.  (Prayers and gin are welcomed.) She glared at me with those mischievous beautiful brown eyes and slammed the door. I drug the water hose out and sprayed the blue Smurf massacre off the house. C found all this quite amusing and cheered for me. When I was done I picked her up and smelled a very ripe diaper. Great it’s all over my arm. I go to walk into the house and run into the door, smack! It’s locked….

I knock on the door and loudly call for M, “Unlock the door please!”

So our back door is in a small hallway between our bedroom and the living room.  I can see most of each room. She comes strolling casually around the corner of the living room, smiles almost as if she’s surprised to see me and shakes her head no.

“Open. The. Door. Now.” I repeat sternly.

She considers my request and tries to unlock it. After a few failed attempts she successfully unlocks the bottom lock, but to my surprise she had somehow managed to lock the dead bolt above as well. Well Crap.  I finally gave up trying to point out and describe the dead bolt to her. Well mostly because she got tired and walked away from me. 

So I ran over to the next door neighbors house hoping they still had a key to our house. Not home.  Ran across the street to our other neighbors’ house.  Not home. Shit. No literally, C had gone again.  I was reaching desperation.  It was 102 degrees out, I’m barefoot and this diaper can’t hold much more. Third times a charm right? Luckily it was.  Our other neighbor was thankfully home and let us in to use her phone.  Thank goodness I knew my husband’s phone number. Ah voicemail. Well I expected that I guess.  I don’t pick up when I don’t know the number either.  Now I was just praying that he listens to the voicemail and doesn’t decided to go run errands after he picks up O. 

I thanked my neighbor and ran back over to the house.  Out of all my kids I knew M would be the least panicked about being alone.  And I was totally right.

I got back into the backyard with C and went up to the door.  I looked in and didn’t see or hear M anywhere.  So I knocked… and knocked again.  Then I see her.  She is sitting on the floor with a fist full of ice cream, in front of the door. A half-gallon bucket of mint chocolate chip ice cream is sitting securely between her legs.

“M!” I yelled. “Put that away now!” I like how I thought I had any control in this situation what so ever.  I’m cute like that. 

“No.” she retorted calmly.  Then she got up calmly with the ice cream and walked into my bedroom. Then back into my bathroom, turns and faces me with a chocolaty smile and oh so sticky hands and slams the French doors to the bathroom shut. 

I stand there for a moment full of rage and then I start laughing.  Well at least I know she is eating the ice cream on the tile now.  I embrace the moment.  I know M is safe, I mean there is at least half of that container left.  That will take her awhile.  I strip down C to nothing and wash her off with the hose.  She thinks this is all hilarious and wonderful.  My kind neighbor stops by with a cold bottle of water and encouragement. 

“This is a hard time in motherhood! You’re fine!” she said kindly.

Damn. She is right! So I sit myself down, crack open a nice cold water (in my head it was beer) and sat there spraying my naked baby with a hose until my husband came home. 

Shenanigans & Hoarding

How many of you have jumped on board with the whole de-hoarding of your home train?  Right here!  Yup that’s me, now throw your hands in the air, wave em’ like you jus’ don’t care.  C’mon, I know you were singing along with me in your best Run D.M.C. impersonation.  Now put your hands back down before you knock something over.  I just vacuumed for the 2nd time today.  Marie Kondo has an excellent system of de-cluttering.  I just need to figure out how to keep little “helpful” hands, from moving things out of my piles.  I have so many piles in my home right now ya’ll.  There is the trash pile, give away to a friend pile, donate pile and I’m not sure what to do with this globe I like that sports countries that don’t even exist anymore pile.  Hello U.S.S.R.! This chaos all started when I discovered that I owned 5 9×13 pans.  Does that make me an excellent Methodist or what? I’m ready for that pot luck in a moment’s notice.  But I had to ask myself, does having 5 9×13 pans bring me joy?  No, it’s stressed me the hell out. 

So basically my home has looked like a state of emergency, as I go through every cabinet, closet, etc.., for a couple weeks now.  It reached it maximum messy point this past Friday night.  After getting home from an awesome dinner with friends and surviving a nighty night battle, worthy of an Oscar nomination from our children, we were just done. My house can be messy, but my kitchen is always immaculate. I CANNOT stand a dirty kitchen.  Well Friday night I sure did.  I had a dishwasher waiting to be unloaded.  Dirty dishes galore on my island.  Shoes, socks, jackets, toys, diaper bags, purse….. Screw it, we made a cocktail and watched Jurassic World. The next morning I awake to my four year old gasping at my side with delight.  “Mommy! You won’t believe this!” squealed O.  Feeling completely disoriented I reach for my glasses.  “What’s going on?” I ask in a yawn.  “Someone was in our house!”  O shrieked.  “WHAT?” I ask in a more alert state.  “Come let me show you!” O said as she handed me my robe and pulled me by the hand. 

I speed walk out into the living room ready to drop kick the asshole who broke in, ya know, because I’m getting so strong from Jazzercise and all.  There were toys, pillows, blankets galore.  Okay looks the same.  Kitchen … disaster, okay.  Dining room table is under there somewhere, okay.  My piles looked undisturbed, okay.  Yup looks how I left it.  Front, back and garage door all locked.  “This place is a pit mom!” yelled Olive as she spun in circle. “Gee thanks.” I say sarcastically and defensively at the same time.  You try to keep a house clean with three Gremlins hopped up on popsicles, I think to myself.  “I know who did this!” O exclaimed.  “You?” I ask.  “No silly, it was the leprechaun! He must have come early!  He is very mischievous and wrecked our house.  I can’t believe it!  Can we call my teachers at school and tell them?” asked O with wide sparkling brown eyes.

I love how O thinks that her teachers are always at school.  Like they live there and just wait for her to show back up.  Come to think of it, before spring break, her teachers had a naughty leprechaun come into their class room and wreak havoc making a huge mess while they were away at recess.  Of course this made sense to her. “Yeah, you’re right.  I bet it was that naughty leprechaun!” I said.   “I guess we better clean this up.”   “Na, I’m going to go look for him.  Good luck with that mom!” she said as she skipped away.  I didn’t have the energy to argue with her at that moment.  Oh don’t you worry I made her help later.  That is after she found lose change on the floor and was certain the leprechaun left her treasure.   And after, she had to call my in-laws and parents and tell them how she is living in filth and squalor that was certainly created by this tiny green man. Insert face palm.  I swear your grandchildren are safe! Well the tiny green trouble maker has left us alone, for now anyways.  I got the first floor of my home done.  Now onto the second.  I’m gonna need more coffee.. or Guinness.

Lent Me Ask You a Question

I don’t know about you, but I feel like Ash Wednesday always creeps up on us.  I mean, I seriously just watched my neighbors take down their Christmas tree a couple days ago.  Now in their defense I think they may be snow birds to somewhere like, I don’t know.. Florida.  I guess our harsh Texas winters can be too much.. (Insert Scarlett O’Hara eyebrow raise). No judgement here.  I love Christmas just as much as the next person, but it is March.  They were past that awkward point of you still haven’t taken it down? To wow, aren’t you a little early? 

Wednesday morning as I was making my bed with O “helping” me, my mom FaceTimed.  O answered the phone excitedly, “Hi Nana!”

“Good morning O!” Nana said. 

“Nana, what happened to your head? Are you alright?” asked O concerned. 

“Oh yes honey, I’m fine I just went to church early this morning.  I’m sure you’ll go tonight.” said Nana.

O looked at me with big eyes. Now mind you, she has an overactive imagination like her mama.  I could just see all the questions formulating in her little mind getting ready to cascade out of her mouth.  Sometimes I wish I was a day drinker.  Do you know the average toddler asks 288 questions a day?  That means I probably tell about 200 lies a day. 

I took the phone from O so my poor mother wouldn’t pass out from motion sickness trying to talk to my daughter.  Most of the time when you try and FaceTime my children, it looks like you are watching the Blair Witch Project.  You get great shots of their noses, sometimes with a lovely booger dangling around. You will see my ceiling or their feet as they run off with you.  You may even hear a toilet flush as they try to go potty and talk to you, talk about multitasking! And if you are super lucky they will spin around in a circle with you so you can feel like you are at an amusement park for free!

I love my morning check in’s with my mom.  I’m almost 40 and I think I talk to her about 9 times a day.  After we hung up, O turned to me and began the interrogation.

“Her head is dirty mom!  Why isn’t she washing her face? Why did church do that to her? Does she know?” asked O sternly.

“Yes love she knows, I’m not just letting Nana walk around with dirt on her face.” I said.  “On Ash Wednesday Christians put ashes on our heads to help us remember that we are dust and to dust we shall return.”  By the horrified look on her face I realized that was way too deep. Before we could start a theological debate I continued.  “Ash Wednesday is the first day of Lent, which is when we practice self-restraint and abstention until Easter.” 

She just stared at me with confused eyes.  “Okay sister, basically you pick out something you want to give up.  Food, a bad habit, or you can do something kind.  Basically you’re doing something intentional for Jesus.  What would you like to do?”

She sat thoughtful for a moment and said “How about cookies and candy?!”

Cookies and candy, huh?  Well at this moment I can come clean and explain to her what she is doing or I could do to her what my father did to me at her age, which I still hold a grudge dad. I could let her think that we are having a party a church.  I loved parties and one for Jesus had to be super special, so naturally I suggested cookies, cupcakes, candy, juice and pop! When we got home that evening I asked for a cookie, but instead I had a harsh “come to Jesus” moment with my dad.  So do I come clean or not?  To avoid long periods of screaming and crying later, because that’s frowned upon for a 37 year old, I tell her the truth. 

“That’s fine, but you do realize that you are giving these things up? Meaning, no more cookies and candy until Easter.” I said.

She sat thoughtfully for a moment and had a look of regret.  This look totally reminded me of the time we had lunch with my mother at Applebee’s.  O loves vegetables and one particular day she decided that she wanted a side of broccoli with her meal.  I had a proud mama moment, so I let her go ahead and order it.  When the food came out, O looked from her plate to my mothers.  My mother had a nice side of fries that caused O great remorse.  O hung her head and whispered, “What have I done??!” I think I spit out my Diet Coke.

“What?  Wait!! Okay..  then you can take all the fruit. I don’t want it.” Said O.

“Such a sacrifice O.” I said sarcastically

O’s smile widened and she ran out of the room.  You remember that moment when your mom told you she hoped you’d have one just like you someday?  Well that day is here for me, times three.  I guess I can stop buying fruit and throwing it away now. 

Black Diamonds & Asthma Attacks

I have to admit I completely related to Bella Swan when she said that she doesn’t like anything cold and wet. Oh come on, don’t act like you don’t know who Bella is. We all lived through the Twilight era 11 years ago.  I’m sure you still passionately remember whose team you’re on. (Coughs into hand EDWARD).  Okay let’s get back to the cold thing. I hate the cold, that’s one of the major reasons I live in the south now. My freshman year of college however, I chose to go to school in northern Iowa. Why you ask? I have no idea, but I’m thankful I did. I met some of my dearest friends there. Freshmen year was one of the most fun years of my life. The majority of us left after that year, but we stayed in touch.  About 6 years later we all got together for a little mini reunion in Colorado at a ski resort. A few hours of that trip will forever be etched in my mind.

I don’t know whose bright idea it was to go skiing, but that’s what we decided to do.  I have to admit, I wish I was the girl who looked good in cute fitting ski gear and big sunglasses. I would have sailed down the mountain effortlessly with my hair in place and slightly flushed cheeks.  Saying things like “Wow Brad that was a really good run.  That fresh powder is the best!  Let’s go have a cocktail and talk about something relatively interesting.”  However being a bigger girl, I pulled off more of the homeless man look from the 80’s.  I had the frumpy bright multicolored jacket with parachute looking pants, clunky ski goggles and my hair was reminiscent of sideshow Bob.  And I was saying things more like (insert screaming) “I’m gonna die!!” and “Shit!! My ski! My ski! Someone grab it before it ends up in lobby having drinks with Brad!”

When we got to the lodge we decided to break up into different groups to ski in.  E and I being the least experienced out of the group, decided we would venture out on our own.  Plus I wanted to talk shit about my ex and have some quality alone time with her.  You know, fun girlfriend things.  We put on our 40 layers of ski equipment and headed out the door.  As we were approaching the ski lift area we saw that there were two lines. One line was for people who didn’t wish to pursue death (the green and some blue runs) and the other for people who laughed in the face of it (black runs).  That being said, it was green all the way for us.  We saw some younger kids waiting in line so we made our way over by them.  The closer we got to the lift the more nervous I got.  I mean ski lifts are kind of terrifying.  There is really nothing but a tiny bar holding you into a rocking metal swing set 20 feet up in the air. 

The kids in front of us were next to get on the lift.  Suddenly I heard our friends hollering at us from the other line.  I turned to them, smiled and waved, but I was a bit confused by their concerned expressions and animated body language.  Unfortunately I didn’t understand what was happening until E and I were seated on the rocking swing set from hell being hoisted 80 feet up into the air towards our awaiting doom.  That’s right we had got on the wrong lift and were headed to the Black Diamond runs.  I then realized two things.  1. I was going to die.  2. We followed tiny demons to our deaths.

I thought to myself, “well at least my last view of the mountain will be beautiful”.  After what felt like an eternity we made it to the top.  I can feel my palms start sweating as the tiny demons jump off the lift in front of us and zoom out of site.  Then I realized, I didn’t remember how to get off this damn thing!  It had been about seven years since I’d last done this.  E and I stared at each other in horror and screamed as the lift paused for a moment and dumped us out.  We slid down the ramp and found our way to a stop.  At least I still remembered how to wedge. 

“What the hell are we going to do?” I said shakily. 

“Will they let us just ride it down again?” E asked.

Unfortunately there was nobody attending the top of the lift. And the thought of trying to jump on while people were jumping off wasn’t the brightest idea. “Let’s just get the hell off this mountain and go have drinks.” I said.  “I’m in.” said E.  So off we went on our little adventure.  We get to the top of the run and look down.  “Well, here we go!” I said.  And with my awesome skiing moves I began to do the slow wedge from side to side of the slope, trying not to run into anyone. The best way to picture this is to visualize someone trying to drive a motorized cart in Target on Black Friday.  Trying to go from one side of the store to the next, with a speed of approximately 2 miles an hour while making a high pitched EEEEEEEEeeeee sound.  After about 20 minutes of this E and I find ourselves trying not to cry sitting in a snow bank on the side of the run.  We look off to the side and see a group of four Hispanic guys looking as out of place and frantic as we felt.  We make our way over to them and ask if they know a way off this death trap.  “Naw man, we are lost too! We took the wrong lift and ended up here!” “Ya we know the feeling buddy.” I said solemnly. 

Then I see it.  A tiny little ray of hope that is!  There was a flat trail for cross country skiers off to the side a little ways down.  Yessss!! I felt like Dorothy when she found the yellow brick road.  I can walk my ass off this mountain, you betcha!  So E and I and our new friends clicked off our skis and walked for at least a mile on the crunchy flat surface.  I was really enjoying our little walk until we reached the end and saw a new sign bragging this slope was a blue/black.  Well at least it’s getting a little better.  We parted ways with our new friends, clicked back on our skis and I began to do my signature Black Friday move when I see E wipe out and just lay sprawled out on the side of the slope. “I’m coming E!” I yell. 

EEEEEEEEeeeeee……  EEEEEEEeeeeee……… EEee…..  I slowly made my way over to her and threw myself down by her side.  We both lay there with dazed looks and are breathing heavily.  Geeze nobody really warns you about how physically intense skiing is.  Well maybe someone did, but it was probably on a Taco Tuesday. 

“I can’t do this, I have to get down.” E said with a wild look.  “We got to hold it together, because we can’t both freak out!” I say.  Next thing I know she clicks her ski’s off, places them tightly in her arms, balls up and starts sliding down the slope on her ass.  What did I do next you ask?  I joined my BFF of course.  I held on for dear life to my ski’s, balled up and slid down after her.  I really don’t know how long we did this because time really didn’t matter to me at that moment.  My butt was so cold, I was afraid that it had fallen off somewhere.  We made it to the bottom of the run and again just laid there.  We sat up and looked at each other.  “This is ridiculous.” I said.  Then out of the corner of my eye I see someone sitting in what looked like a little outhouse.  It was a tiny lift for one of the runs.  Just then I came up with the most brilliant plan ever.  This plan was going to get us off this damn mountain.  “Hey you’re an asthmatic right?” I asked E.  “Yeeessss.” E said cautiously.  “How are you feeling?” I asked.  “Fine.” E said with a look of what are you up to.  “I think you are about to have a bad asthma attack and that guy is going to help us get off the mountain.” I said with a semi crazed grin. Imagine when the Grinch who stole Christmas just thought of how he was going to ruin everything for the Whos who live in Whoville. That’s what I looked like.

E was on board so we hashed out our plan right then and there.  E was going to start “having an asthma attack” and I was going to go get him to call the ski patrol so they could come get us and take us down to get her inhaler. Flawless plan right?  Not so much. 

E started rocking back and forth making wheezing noises. I clicked my skis off and ran over to the lift operator.  “Hey I need your help! My friend is having an asthma attack and we need to get down to her locker to get her inhaler!” Well there was no turning back now.  Next thing I know he grabs his radio alerts the ski patrol 911 and runs out of his little outhouse over to E.  Not seconds later we are surrounded by 5 ski patrol guys.  Where the hell did they all come from so quickly??

“You’re going to be okay.” said an attractive ski man #1 as he crouched down beside her and placed his hand on her shoulder.  E nodded and a kept wheezing.  I have to admit, I was damn impressed with her performance. “Can you tell me your name?” asked #1. E’s eyes got big and I jumped in and answered his questions.  Just then another snowmobile pulled up with what looked like a stretcher/surfboard attached behind.  Attractive ski men #2 & #3 lifted her up and placed her on the surfboard.  E looked at me with a look of shit what’s happening and relief.   They then began securing her down so she wouldn’t fly off. 

I’m starting to panic.  I then realized there really isn’t anywhere for me to sit.  “Excuse me?” I say, “Yes, where am I to sit?” The ski patrol guys start to laugh until they realized I’m serious.  “Sorry we don’t have any more room, but we will take good care of your friend. I promise.” said attractive ski man #1.  “Don’t worry, I’ll ski with you down the rest of the way!” said an overly excited not quite as attractive ski man #5.  He kind of reminded me of Steve Urkel from Family Matters with cool ski gear. “Are you kidding me?!” I shrieked.  E looked up at me and smiled as they drove off.  Bitch! I say that with the most love by the way.  I was just jealous.  She was amazing. 

“All right, get me off this mountain.” I said. He chuckled and said “Don’t worry I’ll get you down!” Well I think he was either extremely impressed or completely confused as I started doing yet again my Black Friday move down the Blue/Black slope, I really couldn’t tell.  Bless his heart, he was very encouraging and kind. After what felt like hours of face plants, snow down my pants and snot dripping into my mouth, we made it to the last run.  By this time I was done.  I wanted off the stupid mountain.  My last run was yet again, another damn Blue. Something just snapped inside of me as I looked down and I just went for it.  No more wedging side to side. I crouched down, skis facing forward and I took off.  It was exhilarating and terrifying.  More so terrifying, because a moment after I had taken off, the clasp on my ski boot popped off and my right foot was wobbly with absolutely no control of my ski.  So many many naughty words came spilling out of my mouth you would’ve thought I was from the cast of Entourage.  As I was flying down I noticed there was a slight incline with a small drop coming up.  Frozen with fear I just screamed as it came closer… closer… closer and then I was airborne. Not in the cool way you see Olympians, but more like Goofy. “I’m gonna dieeeeeee!” I whaled, as I flew through the beautiful blue sky. But I didn’t.  My ski’s hit the ground. I remained upright and I was almost to the bottom of the hill.  I could see the lodge and the crazy lift lines. I was almost there! Then I realized, no really I’m almost there, I need to stop.  Like now! I don’t know how I did it, but I turned just right and skidded into a perfect stop.  Spraying a beautiful rainbow of powder up into the air.  I just stood there in shock.  My hands were gripping my poles so tight I had no blood flow in my fingers. My legs were shaking something fierce and my mouth was completely dry from all my deranged screaming.  Moments later Urkel came to an equally fancy stop next to me.

“Wow!” he exclaimed. “I didn’t know you had it in ya!”

“I really didn’t either.” I said, still in a state of shock.  We took off our ski’s and headed into the lodge.  He took me down a bright, oh so warm hallway to a cheerful room where I found my warm, dry and happy friend E holding a nice warm cup of Coco.  “Hi.” she said with a smile trying to repress a giggle.  Which I don’t blame her.  I looked like I was just drug a few miles behind a snow plow.  “Feeling better? I’m so so glad you are okay!” I said with a smile and a shot of sarcasm.  Again all love here. We had made it safely off the mountain.  With an awesome story to boot.  I haven’t been skiing since, but I think I’m okay with that. 

Snakes Don’t Die Until the Sun Goes Down

Working in the world of customer service never disappoints. There is an endless supply of crazy people. I have been fortunate over the years to be an observer and instigator of this lot. Most of my interactions in customer service were limited to, yet not to be underestimated, the world of retail. This time around I was working at a bank. I thought I would make more money there than at a store. That’s a myth by the way. Even though I got to touch hundreds of thousands of dollars a day, I still took home minimum wage. If I wasn’t an honest person, I would’ve made a heck of a lot more.
I would spend my down time at the bank counting my money and arranging it in perfect order. I don’t think I’m OCD, but it made me insane if my bills weren’t facing the same way. As for the change facing the same the direction? Well I wouldn’t go that far. Its change for heaven’s sake! That’s a whole other disorder.
I had just gotten engaged over Christmas. I would spend a lot of time staring at my ring. It is super sparkly and I would be obvious with my hand gestures to customers, so they would notice and compliment it. I would day dream a lot too. Yes, I would day dream about my wedding. What it would look like. How I would be the prettiest girl in the whole room. How people would swoon over how happy my fiancé and I would be. Excuse me I know, I vomited a little in my mouth too. Okay what was I saying, daydreams, but mostly I would day dream about my bank being robbed. We would get notices every day from the corporate office with fuzzy pictures of the bank robbers. Detailing where they hit and what they took. They would also provide a list of signs for potential bank robbers and what to do if you are being robbed.
Anytime someone would walk in with a baseball cap, my heart would race. I was so excited I knew this was it! Even better, was when people came in with sunglasses. I would be primping my hair because I wanted to look good for the footage on the nightly news. Who knows maybe they would even interview me. I would look right in the camera, face flushed and wide eyed, “He came in the bank wearing a baseball hat and sunglasses, I knew we were in for trouble!”.
Now what would I do if we were really robbed? I like to think I would be heroic. The robber would come up to my window and slip me a note that says “Be quite and give me all your money gorgeous.” Gorgeous? Hey it’s my day dream stay with me here. I would take the note and slip it into my pocket for evidence and lean forward. I would whisper to him a nobly, “Are you sure you want to do this, you can walk away now?” He would glare and say “No.” By this time I have hit the alarm and back flipped over the counter and have him pinned to the floor. The other bankers have run to my side and are helping me hold him down until the police arrive.
Did you know a teller can get fired if a bank robber takes more than a certain amount from their drawer? Sometimes when I would be over my limit I would look at people coming in with
their baseball caps and think to myself. Now how do I feel about losing my job, to be a hero today?
Well the day I’m going to tell you about didn’t involve any baseball caps, sunglasses or robbers even. Just a very crazy woman from a homestead in the middle of the Dallas/Fort Worth area.
It was a rainy Monday. We had just gotten through with our afternoon rush and I was at my desk arranging my money. A lady entered, wearing nothing but a long thin night dress with no bra. She had no shoes on, her giant bag of purse was thrown carelessly over her broad shoulders and her hair was disheveled falling around her pale face. Did I mention the hospital bands around her wrist? She was gazing around mumbling to herself. Jackpot, I had to help this customer, for pure self-gratification.
“Ma’am I can help you over here!” I didn’t want anyone else to get her. Curiosity was killing me, what was with this woman? I wanted to hear her story! None of the other tellers noticed her as she came shuffling up to my window. How they didn’t notice I have no idea. She looked as out of place as a trash heap in a flower bed.
“I have no idea what’s going on.” She said. Well that was obvious I thought. “How can I help you?” I asked. She really didn’t respond. “Ma’am are you alright?” I inquired.
Her glazed eyes finally met mine and she exclaimed, “I just got out of the hospital!” And cue the crazy. I couldn’t help myself. “You did? Are you okay? What happened?”
Her eyes grew wide as she, not so quietly said, “I was bitten by a snake!”
“Ohh no! That’s horrible!” I said. She considered me for a moment then leaned in closer. “You wanna see?” Oh Lord here it comes I thought to myself. “Yes.” I said. C’mon when someone as crazy as this wants to show you something you always say yes.
She started to lift her night dress and as she got up almost to her knee, I started regretting my answer. She abruptly dropped her night dress and said “Oh never mind, it’s all bandaged up.” I have to admit a wave of relief flooded over me. I still however wanted to know how she was bitten. This had to be a good story.
“So ma’am how did you get bitten by this snake?” I asked. Her eyes perked up a bit and she started to smile. Wow those teeth.
“Well I live out on a homestead…” she said. In my mind I’m thinking, homestead? We live in one of the largest metroplexes in the country. We are right in-between Dallas and Fort Worth, where on earth would a homestead be? And how on earth did you drive here in this condition?
“You see, I was outside roasting goat heads and I needed my wheel’bara to put them in so they wouldn’t burn. My wheel’bara was in my garage, next to one of them hitchin posts ya know? And I had one of em baby pools, ya know ones like you git at the Walmart, caught on top.”
I think my mouth was hanging open during this. This was a lot to process. In my head I’m like, hold the phone. Wait you were roasting goat heads? She said it as casually as I would say, “So I was in my backyard grilling hamburgers.” I maintained my composure with a smile as she continued.
“Well that there baby pool was caught on top and I’m pullin an tuggin and all of a sudden I felt this bite on my leg! I dropped the baby pool and looked down. At first I thought I got stung by a hornet. I’m a tough farm girl, I kin take it, but I saw two gashes with blood streamin down!” she cried. “An that’s when I knew!”
I found myself completely taken in with this story. I’m sure the visuals in my head were more dramatic, but I found myself leaning toward her. “You knew what?” I asked.
“I was bitten by a snake!!” She yelled. I’m fighting back fits of laughter that are building up in my chest and working its way to my shoulders. “Oh no!” I replied. “Then what happened?”
“Well I started yelling for my husband! I said hunny, hunny I got bitten by a snake!” she exclaimed, as she waived her arms in the air with crazy eyes. “Well he came runnin out with his shot gun and found that there snake and shot em. Then cut his head off…” she leans in even closer, not blinking holding my gaze and says, “Cause snakes don’t die until the sun goes down.”
I am completely captivated. This woman is completely nuts. Snakes don’t die until the sun goes down? Is this some weird Texas myth that I have never heard about. I’m speechless for the moment. I don’t want to ask her about snakes and derail the wild ride I’m on, so I just agree with her. “Yes, that’s true, they don’t.” I lie.
“So what happened next?” I ask. I can’t help it this is too fun.
“Well my husband rushed me to the hospital, and I almost died!!” she yelled.
“How did you know that you almost died?” I asked.
“I shit myself!” she exclaimed.
How I maintained a straight face at that moment I will never know. I looked around to see if anyone was witnessing this conversation. Everyone was going about their daily business. How on earth are people missing this?!
All I could muster up without laughing was “Oh my!”
“Yeah and when I git to that hospital, they had to give me all them anti-serums in the whole hospital!” she said. Her eyes are wide and she is breathing heavy at this point. Both of her hands are gripping my desk. She looked completely coo coo for coco puffs.
She is still staring at me dead pan in the face. “You wanna see it?”
Oh my goodness. No way! Please God, tell me she doesn’t have that dead snake in her purse. That is just crazy. I will scream. Probably not the best thing to do in a bank. But curiosity crept over me again. “Yeah.” I said hesitantly.
She picks her giant purse off the floor and places it on the desk. My heart is racing as she slowly unzips the top. She then reaches inside and pulls out a bunch of photocopies. Holy crap, they totally photocopied a dead snake. That is amazing.
She then begins to arrange the copies on my desk into the snake. I have to admit, it was a pretty big and scary looking.
“Wow.” I said, “That’s a big one.”
She gathered up all her papers and asked for her balance. I handed her the balance. As she reads it she says, “Oh good I gots money, good fir me.” Her eyes become unfocused again and looks off into space as she pats her own back.
“Well I’m glad you’re okay now.” I calmly said. “Did you just get out of the hospital today?”
“No.” she said “I got out a couple weeks ago.” She then grabs her purse tosses it back over her shoulder and continues to shuffle away. Murmuring again, “I have no idea what’s going on.”
I never saw that lady again. I wonder if she made it back to her homestead alright? I wonder if she ever figured out “what was going on”? But I will always remember that snakes don’t die until the sun goes down.

Two Deaths & a Bar Tab

Sitting in the waiting room of my Dermatologists office one day, I noticed a funeral happening across the street in the cemetery.  As I’m watching, I notice an ambulance lights and siren a blaze, come zooming down the street from the hospital.  Which is also next to the cemetery.  A little unnerving I know, but it an excellent hospital.  As it gets closer, I think to myself, “Man you’re a little late, were already holding a funeral here.” Then I feel like the world’s biggest ass when the ambulance turns into the cemetery and I see them assisting someone, living, into the back of it. 

The whole thing got me thinking about funerals though. Like most everyone I know, I’ve never been a big fan of funerals.  I always feel awkward, like is it okay to smile?  Am I smiling too much?  What on earth do you say to the family? How long should you hang around? It’s just a hard thing to get through. 

Back in college my bestie from high school lost her grandfather.  We’ll call her A.  A gave me a call and told me she was coming back to our home town for the funeral and asked if I would meet up with her and come to the visitation.  Of course I would, I would do anything for her.  I loved her family and really liked her grandfather.  So I got the day off from work and drove back home.  Now I’m from a small town and there are only three funeral homes.  I had failed to ask my friend which one her grandfather was at. This was also in a faraway time before cell phones were commonplace.  Hard to remember right?  If only I could’ve sent a quick text, the following would have never happened. 

It was a cold February afternoon, but I remember the sun shining cheerfully.  I had made it to my parents’ house in record time and had enough time to change and freshen up before I needed to leave for the visitation.  My oldest sister was home visiting from Seattle and hanging out with my parents that day.  “Mom, what funeral home is grandpa S at?  I forgot to ask A.”

“I’m not sure, let me check the paper.” Mom said. 

“There are only three in town, just drive by until you recognize someone.” said my sister.  As logical as this sounded, I didn’t want to waste time doing that. 

“I can’t find it, but I’m pretty sure it’s at the funeral home by the middle school.” said my mom. 

So off I went.  I found a parking spot somewhat close, which was a miracle because this funeral home was packed. As I’m making my way up the cracked and uneven sidewalk, there are a bunch people standing outside in circles chatting, by the glass front doors.  I recognized a few people, but was a little confused as to how they knew this man. As I mentioned, this is a town of 7k people, so the chances of recognizing someone is pretty good.  Oddly enough they were giving me the same confused look as I walked on by.  Whatever, I thought to myself, I needed to find my friend.  I made my way into the giant pea green waiting room and looked around.  It was your typical funeral home.  Nicely decorated with peaceful looking paintings, lots of Kleenex boxes and candles.  I scanned the room, but I couldn’t quite locate anyone from her family.  I’m getting a little apprehensive but I start walking towards the chapel.  There are people crying and hugging all around me. Again, looking at me strangely and then I completely understand why they are. 

I made it up to the doors of the chapel and there was a giant poster sized picture of the dearly departed.  I had no idea who this man was.  I instantly broke out into a cold sweat and felt my cheeks flush.  Holy shit, I’m at the wrong visitation. I caught my breath and slowly turned around to walk out as casually as I could when I felt someone gently touch my hand.  I turned back to see who it was and yet again I don’t have any clue who this person is. 

“Thank you so much for coming today.  It’s so nice of you to be here.” said a lady in a sweet and defeated voice. She was a small older lady with kind eyes and to my embarrassment, she was none other than the widow.  This I deciphered from the pictures of his family on the table next to us.  I was frozen, absolutely still, with no idea what to do or say.  Do I tell the truth? “Whoops, wrong place sorry for your loss!” and then run like hell?  Or do I just play this out? Well, I went with the little white angel on my shoulder and played it out as best as I could even though I wanted to bolt.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.” I said.  “He was a great man.” Now I have no idea why I said that.  The less I say, the safer I am.  Who knows, this guy could’ve been a total ass.  “Have you had a chance to see him yet?” she looked up at me with her big brown eyes that bore into my soul.  “Sorry, no I have not. I’ll let family go in first.” My last feeble desperate attempt to get out of there had failed.  She gave me a small smile and then placed her arm lovingly around my shoulders and we were moving.  Moving down the aisle in the chapel.  Moving down the aisle in the chapel towards the casket.  We were almost down to the casket when she stopped and gave me a squeeze then turned and sat with someone in the pew.  So here I’m standing a few feet from the casket.  I numbly walk forward to look in and there he laid peacefully. “Hi, so I’m Traci.  We haven’t officially met, but it looks like there are a lot of people here that love you, so that’s good.  Your wife is very nice, so good job on that I guess, okay then. Take care!” I whispered to him.  I wait a few seconds to make it look a little more meaningful and pretended to wipe my eyes.   I turn around and overt my gaze from everyone and walk back out the way I came in.  When that cool burst of air hit my face from the outside, I couldn’t have been more grateful. 

When I got back to my parents’ house I was livid.

“You sent me to the wrong funeral home!” I yelled as I entered the house. My parents and sister were standing in the kitchen with the funniest look on their faces.  A mix of horror and is it okay to laugh?  Well laugh they did.  So much so that they were crying and doubling over.  I’m standing there completely pissed and then I can’t help but smile and next thing I know I’m laughing with them at the absurdity of it all.  I wasn’t about to go funeral crashing again so we searched for the newspaper and finally found the correct information. 

I found the right place and joined my friend and her family.  After the visitation I took my friend down to the bar for a beer.  I love small town bars, a beer for $2 dollars? Yes please! After I told A of my adventures earlier in the day, we had a good laugh and decided to call it a day and go home.  The waitress handed over a $4 tab and I gave her my debit card. “I got this round.” I playful bantered. 

“Yeah, we don’t take cards.  Just cash.” said our expressionless waitress.  A and I bust out laughing and then stopped when we realized no one else thought this was funny but us.  “Okay we can walk over to the bank, they have to have an ATM. It’s just across the street. We’ll be right back.” I said.

“Sorry we can’t let you leave without paying your tab…” she said without blinking.

“We don’t have cash..” said A angrily.

“May I at least, use your phone to call someone?” I said.  See how many times a cell phone would have saved the day back then? They let me use their phone and I called my mom to bail me out. She has never let me live that one down.  It’s not every day you call your mother to settle your bar tabs.  And if you do, I’m pretty sure you have a whole other set of problems. 

Let this be a cautionary tale to you my friends.  Always make sure you have the right info and carry cash. 

Up a Tree Without a Cheesecake

I love that I have three daughters.  It always throws me for a loop when people act disappointed for me. Like having three girls is a bad thing.  They usually follow up with, well you can keep trying for that boy! I know they mean well, but oh hell no, that shop is closed. It’s like, “I’m sorry Sally,” the checkout lady at Walmart, “I didn’t realize that we were close enough to have these conversations about my family planning.”  Anyhow, I’m raising smart, strong women that may one day choose to marry your sons.  I bet a mother of all boys can relate too.  My husband and I are happy and so thankful that we’ve been entrusted with three healthy kids.  I would be lying however, if I said that I don’t get cold sweats thinking about them all being in high school at the same time shopping for prom dresses, all going to college, and the weddings… my goodness the weddings!!!  I should start selling plasma now. 

Funny enough, I grew up with two older sisters. I won’t lie to you and say we never fought or got along all the time.  The main difference between my children and my childhood is my sisters are eight & ten years older than me and I played the role of the incredibly annoying little sister very well. Years later and after many fights and tears we have grown up and are the best of friends.  I love watching my girls play together and seeing their sisterly bonds form.  Like my sisters have shown me through the years, I have a feeling that if anyone messes with my girls, that poor sucker has a whole lot of trouble coming their way. On the other hand, hanging out with your sisters can create a whole other kind of trouble. This, my friends, is what I’m here to tell you about today.   

It was the summer of 1992.  I had just turned 10 years old and I was super excited to be spending three whole weeks alone with my big sister.  My father had a work trip in Australia and my mother got to accompany him this time, so we were officially on our own.  Under the close eyes of our parents’ friends of course.  For anonymity’s sake, we’ll call my sister JF. JF had just graduated high school and had the coolest job ever working that summer at our local radio station, before heading off to university.  I felt incredibly cool hanging out with her.  For the most part, things were going smoothly.  Our biggest fight was over me not putting the milk away when I was finished with my cereal.  Which now, as an adult, I get how incredibly annoying that is. 

One lazy afternoon my sister had made this beautiful cheesecake.  She wanted it to set fast, so we thought putting it in the freezer in the garage would do the trick. How has no one ever mentioned this before? We were brilliant. Unfortunately dad’s car was parked to close to the door so we couldn’t open it up. 

Now mind you, this wasn’t just any car.  This was my dad’s “baby”.  It was a blue Mustang convertible.  It had a 5.0 engine and the wide tires.  This car was gorgeous and built for speed.  He would spend hours detailing it on the weekends and we were forbidden to eat and drink in it.  We moved a lot growing up and every time he would move us, he would promise to get a house with a pool.  Well the house we ended up with in Nebraska did not have this pool.  So the Mustang was kind of a peace offering to my teenage sisters, but let’s be honest it was more for him. 

As my sister stood holding the cheese cake in the garage she yelled for me to come see her.  I was in the basement “not playing Barbie’s with my friend M”, because we were way too old and cool for that at our ripe old age of 10.  “Hey can you hold this, I need to back the car out.” she asked.  “I can do it,” I replied which was a total lie.  I was just trying to look cool in front of my friend.  I mean I already knew how to drive boats.  This couldn’t be much harder.  Well my sister totally called my bluff.  “Fine back it out, I dare you!”  “Okay then, I will.” I said as I held her gaze.  I knew I was being stupid, but the ball had already been set into motion, there was no turning back. 

Ugh! Getting a dare from your older sibling is literally the worst!  Now I couldn’t back down.  I refused to be labeled a wuss, if I could do anything about it.  I ran inside and grabbed the keys from the kitchen. When I came back out and got into the driver’s seat, my hands were extremely shaky as I inserted the key into the ignition.  “Traci are you sure…” my sister said something else, but I couldn’t hear her.  The roar of that giant engine was reverberating through the entire garage.  My friend M looked scared as hell and ran out of the garage up onto the front porch.  “Trace, I’ll just be out here!” M said.  JF furrowed her eyebrows with a mixed look of don’t you dare and I wonder if she can really do it.  At this point I’m full of adrenaline.  I was kinda scared and kinda excited.  Now this car is so powerful, you actually have to apply the brake right away when backing out.  There is no need for the gas pedal in this situation, I only need to move the car 3 feet. Now remember, I had never driven a car. I mean, if you count “Cruis’n USA” at the arcade in our local pizza joint a car, then I’m an absolute pro. And if there’s one thing I learned from that, you press that gas pedal all the way down to the floor… all the way down. 

Well that’s just what I did.  I put that baby in reverse and pressed that pedal ALL the way down to the floor.  Now the car didn’t just start going backwards it kicked up and leapt like a horse trying to buck off its rider.  I was absolutely scared shitless.  Shitless!! As I’m flying backwards through time and space I see my friend staring with disbelief, mouth agape and then I lock eyes with my wide eyed screaming sister.  “NOOOO!!!” JF screamed.  I backed right into our full size van.  You remember those, right?  The third row folds down into a bed, captain chairs in the middle with the optional folding table.  It was a tank.  And thank God it was right there. It probably saved my life.  But even the tank couldn’t stop me. The mustang continued to push our full size van down the drive way and across the street. I’m watching my sister running at me in slow motion. I feel my hands sear with pain from gripping the stirring wheel and all of a sudden I felt myself rising up. 

Now I’m not rising up like Jesus had finally came and taken the wheel.  I was rising up because after I had crossed the street, still pushing that van, I was about half way up a 40 foot pine tree… okay it probably wasn’t 40 feet tall, but it was taller than my neighbors one story pink house that I had just smashed the corner of.  Finally everything had stopped.  I sat frozen holding on to the stirring wheel listening to the strangest buzzing sound.  My heart was pounding in my throat.  My mouth was dry from screaming. I had tears pouring out of my eyes, but I didn’t feel like I was crying.  All of a sudden my sister was there, turning off the car.  The sound had magically stopped.  I guess I was still pushing down on the gas and the tires were still spinning like crazy.  As she’s lifting me down from the car I can barely feel my jelly filled legs.  We both stand there, looking at the monstrosity I had just created.  “Are you okay??” she asked me anxiously looking me over.  I don’t even remember answering her.  I think I mumbled something unintelligible.  “Shit.” JF said.  That about summed it all up.  There was the Mustang supporting the front of the van as half of it lazily bobbed up and down in the tree, like it was taking a nice siesta and the other half was peacefully resting in the corner of my neighbor’s bedroom.  The tree on the other hand looked like it just wanted to die or yell get the F off!!

“I gotta go home now!” my friend M yelped and ran down the street.  As we are numbly standing there JF had an excellent suggestion, “Maybe nobody saw it and we can clean it up!”  That was extremely wishful thinking, but I was down.  JF jumped in the mustang and drove it back over into our driveway.  She sprinted back over and somehow climb back up into the bobbing van.  The van however, wasn’t down with our idea. It wouldn’t budge. “Damn it! I can’t get it to move!” yelled JF.  Yeah we were so screwed. 

Next thing I knew our next door neighbor, whom I can count on my hand the number of times I’ve had contact with, comes outside with his ancient camera from 1945 and started snapping pictures like crazy.  Of course he would be there, that was just our luck.  He was a heavy set man that always wore overalls and ball caps.  He never smiled, well at least at us.  This man hated us.  No really.  I never understood why my mother always made a point to be nice to him.  He would complain that we always had wild parties and were loud.  Which if you knew my family, you would understand just how laughable and far from the truth this was.  I guess those FCA meetings on Wednesday nights, got the Holy Spirit really moving. 

“I called the police! I don’t want you kids to lie about this!” grumpy neighbor man barked.  “How the hell would we lie about this sir?” said JF.  “The van is hanging out of a tree! We’re not that good!”  Man I love my sister.  Following this, the timing couldn’t have been more perfect, the cop had turned the corner of our street.  He paused and then parked.  The officer got out of his cruiser scratched the top of his head and just started laughing.  “Is everyone alright?” he asked. “Yes.” my sister and I replied.

“Well this is definitely the most interesting thing I’ve seen today” he said.  Really? I thought to myself.  “Officer, look what these kids did!” said grumpy neighbor man.  “I can see, you can go home now.  We can handle it from here.” said the officer.  I really liked that cop.  Grumpy neighbor man huffed and walked back to his house.  You could see him watching everything not so secretly from his living room window.  The rest of that day was a blur.  A tow truck came to haul away the van, which the van doors were dented in with bits of pine tree sticking out.  It kind of looked like I tried to kill Christmas.  The neighbors, whose house I’d hit, were gone on vacation. I couldn’t imagine getting that phone call.  They were extremely gracious about the incident and were happy no one was hurt. The local newspaper turned up to take pictures and of course I made the front page of the Newspress.  Some kids make the paper for getting good grades, community service or MIP’s.  My appearance was a little more legendary.  My story also made our local radio station where my sister worked.  That had to have been fun for her. 

After everything was over I ran into my room and hid under my blankets. I was in shock and didn’t emerge or really eat anything for three days.  Which if you know me, not eating is incredibly serious.  I was terrified that my dad was going to kill me.  Probably not as terrified as my sister though.  Lucky for us, my dad’s friends that were keeping an eye on us were none other than a lawyer, insurance agent and a judge.  They took great care of us and helped get everything sorted out before she had to call our parents.  Luckily JF got to speak with our mother first.  My mother is a saint.  She is the best one to tell bad news too first.  She took it very well and broke the news to our father for us.  He wanted to send our mother home right away, but she refused.  “Honey, they have everything handled, we will go home when we were planning to go home.” said my mother.  She was extremely smart and knew that he needed that time to cool off a continent away, before coming home.  When they returned home I greeted my dad with my Cabbage Patch Doll piggy bank.  He took it and to this day I have yet to get it back.  When I was older he explained to me that he wasn’t as angry about the car as he was that I could’ve been hurt.  Now as a parent I totally get it.  Weeks later, the state of Nebraska wrote my mother informing her to send them my driver’s license.  She wrote back, give her one first, she’s ten…

I’ve never lived this story down.  It haunted me through adolescence.  Five years later my Driver’s Ed instructor was even afraid of me. Which I don’t really blame him, I was a pretty awful driver.  When I got my license, we still had the Mustang.  We had already been through so much together it just felt right that it was mine.  And I was always reminded of that fateful day every time it rained.  You see when I crashed the car, I bent the entire frame and the top didn’t latch down correctly.  Man when it rained, I got real wet. 

My father didn’t laugh about this story for about 24 years.  I will never forget my wedding day, I mean who does, but as my father and I were standing at the back of the church getting ready to walk down, I looked at him and his eyes were getting red.  Crap, he can’t cry or I’ll just lose it.  I have seen him maybe form a tear one other time in my life. As we start walking down the aisle, I lean over and say, “Hey remember that time I crashed your cars into our neighbors house?”  He looked at me confused for a moment. “Well, I’m sorry about that.” I whispered. We instantly burst into laughter and it was one of my favorite memories of the day.  It’s nice when you can turn something so awful into something so funny. 

And how did the cheesecake turn out you ask?  My sister said she got me to eat some, but I honestly can’t even recall.  But it cost us a hell of a lot of money.  I don’t think my sister has made one since.

The Dehydrated Philosopher

I initially wrote this story for my four-year-old a while back.  After her sisters have arrived, I’ve found the content to remain just as true today. These past four years have been hard, sticky and amazing.  As other people would say, I’m in the thick of it.  Even though they give me anxiety attacks, I wouldn’t have done anything differently. 

Personally, I’m grateful I had my kids in my 30’s.  My 20’s were so fun living with my girlfriends, dating the wrong guys and traveling all over the place.  However, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t envious of a younger mama’s energy level and stamina. 

I had my children close together, almost two years between the oldest and middle and less than a year and a half between the latter. This can be extremely challenging at times, but again I wouldn’t have it any other way. I always find it odd when people react to the closeness.  “Are they twins?”  “No they are not actually!” Then comes the judgmental facial expressions saying you know what causes this right… In my head I kindly respond “Sorry Linda let me go back in time and ensure there’s more of a gap to please you.”  Anyway, they play and fight so well together it warms my heart. 

So for any of you in similar situations, feeling the stresses of motherhood pounding you into the ground.  Here is to you mama!  I see you! You are doing a great job!  Hang in there!  This isn’t easy.  Whether you are young or of “advanced maternal age”, have 1 kid or 6, we are all in this together. It takes a village, patience, a little wine and a lot of prayer. We are in the thick of it but we will power through! 

To My Dearest Toddler with Love,

My beautiful daughter, I have decided today was a day worth reliving with you.  I am very excited about this.  We are going to have the most exciting adventure. In 30 years, I’m going to come stay with you.  Exciting, I know.  I haven’t decided if I will bring your father with me on this adventure. I may take this one solo, however it would be a blast to do this with him. 

I will promptly arrive for dinner via Uber or whatever a popular shuttling service for the elderly we have then.  I will greet you with a great big hug and then ignore you completely and sit in your living room watching TV.  You will tell me multiple times that dinner is ready.  I will continue to ignore you until you have to come in and turn off the TV. Then I will be shocked and excited that dinner is ready.  I will find my seat and not like it.  I will make you switch places with me and take your fork and give you mine because I know yours has to be better.  After a fun game of musical chairs, you will find that I am grossly disgusted at what you’ve cooked, refuse to eat it and beg you for cheese.  Then I will proceed to give the cheese to your dog and ask for a cookie.  What’s that, you don’t have any cookies?   Whip some up NOW! This tantrum isn’t going anywhere any time fast so you may as well cave and make it happen. 

When you are only half way through dinner, I will inform you that I have to use the potty.  However, I need you to sit by me on the floor and read books while I try to poop.  You will likely lose your appetite, but I don’t mind, dinner was gross anyway. No reason to worry, I will enjoy your company.  

As you try to clean the kitchen I will demand that it’s time to take a bubble bath.  As you kindly draw my bubble bath, I harass you from behind declaring you will not turn off the faucet.  I require the water up to the top of the tub. I will splash around like a deranged sea otter for about a half hour until my water is ice cold.  I will attempt to convince you that I’m fine and it’s warm whilst realizing that I have to use the potty yet again and leave your toilet seat soaking wet as well as your toilet paper roll. This will be an incredibly fun surprise for you in the middle of the night.  The walls and floor will be covered in water as well.  I will do everything in my power to miss all the towels that you have carefully placed all over the floor. 

After a bath I would like to squirt out half a tube of toothpaste and argue with you that it’s not enough. Once I have my desired amount, I will turn on the faucet and rinse it off completely because your toothpaste is too spicy. I will then decide I don’t want to brush my teeth at all.  Next I will proceed to run around naked through your house while you try to put pajamas on me. This will be quite a show for your neighbors.  Fair warning, you may want to shut the curtains beforehand.  Good luck! Once dressed and ready for bed I will be hungry again.  Do you have any more of that cheese?  Or cookies would be okay. 

Once you’ve explained why we eat all our food at dinner and shouldn’t eat at bed time, I will firmly hand you a stack of 25 books I’ve carefully picked out for you to read me. Don’t you dare skip pages! I will know. 

Tuck me in, say my prayers and turn off the light.  Then I will call for you because I have turned into a dehydrated philosopher.  I need water and as you arrive with my refreshment, I will ask you all sorts of questions to delay my actual bedtime and preventing you from accomplishing anything for the evening. Oh and by the way, I need a new pillow, this one is weird.  The one you have on your bed will do just fine. And can you please take that picture off the wall, they are looking at me.

About 2 a.m. I will crawl in bed with you, but you should know I like to sleep sideways with my feet in your face.  It makes me feel closer to you.  At about 6 a.m. (if you are lucky) I will wake you up demanding more cheese and the use of your phone so I can watch the Wiggles and blast their charming music in your ear until you get up to get me that cheese we talked about earlier.  After my breakfast, you will likely look like someone the government interrogated for 72 hours straight and will be ready for me to go back to my house.  So I will happily sit in the back seat of your car singing at the top of my lungs and kicking your seat as hard as I can. As you try to keep your cool and ask me repeatedly to stop.  I may scream and cry for no reason at all, from time to time.  When we get to my house I will give you with the biggest smile, warmest hug and sweetest kiss and you will forget all the misery I put you through.  Because that is what we do. 

I know that I will miss these moments someday, but I find comfort knowing you will have to go through this as well. I’m reminded of this when I call my Mom, tell her the adventures of the day and on the other end of the phone all I hear is laughter. “That sounds about right!”

So dear daughter of mine, please remember I will always love you and be here for you.  Love you kiddo!