THANKS!

I know someone named Hazel

She’s really into Basil

She thinks she is so awesome

With eyes just like a possum

I’m not sure if she’s sane

I’m not inside her brain

But she is so fun

And I’m her number one

We like to drink and text

What will she tell me next

She gives me much relief

From all my recent grief

Her husband’s not a banker

I wrote this poem to thank her

EXHAUSTION....

Last night I reached a new level of exhaustion that I was amazed to have achieved – until this morning.  It all started a couple of weeks ago when I volunteered to cook for 150 people that participate in the Ryle Marching Band.  My daughter is on the color guard team and I’ve been so impressed with all their hard work I just wanted to help in some way.   So after careful planning and estimation – I started cooking on Thursday for Saturdays dinner.  I literally finished cooking 1 hour before the food was to be delivered at the school for transport to the competition.  Crazy.  I then proceeded to volunteer to be a bus chaperone.  Go ahead and say it – I agree with you – I’m a dumb ass.  Excellent observation.  So I hop on the bus already tired and sporting an awesome headache that will not leave for the remainder of the day.  After the 45 minute obnoxious and loud ride to the competition my headache is far superior than any recent one I remember.  I help organize the food area with plenty of time left over before dinner service.  Terrific!  I get a chance to go to the field – sit in the bleachers – and watch Kennedy and her awesome color guard team win BEST color guard out of 20 schools.  The entire band’s performance was so incredible I was once again brought to tears.  Hip Hip Hooray!!!  Hurry – it’s time to serve the food before finals.  My beloved hubby and I head over to Ryle’s area and finish setting up food just in time to begin service.  150 people later we realize that as usual – I’ve made way too much.  Not a problem!  There’s a family in need so the food will not go to waste – yeah!  We help clean up feeling sooo drained.  Then of course we find out about the trophies received and I love seeing my daughter so incredibly psyched out and happy!  It’s time to go back to the field and watch the bands perform at finals.  It’s apparent that not only are the parents fatigued but so are the teenagers in the band.  I immediately know the performance is not as good as the one in the preliminary portion of the competition.  The color guard has a rifle drop and a flag drop.  The marching band has a few uneven lines.  I keep my fingers crossed because I see other teams are dropping also and not marching as well.  What can they expect when the day started at 8:30am and it’s 10pm???  All in all we still did terrific.  Ryle came in 3^rd – congratulations to them.  It’s over – it’s almost 11pm.  I’m completely whacked.  We all stumble back to the buses and I literally have to wake myself up on the way home.  I’m supposed to be chaperoning – so I do a quick look around – HAND CHECK!!!!  We get back to school, unload the buses – reload up our car.  The entire day is summed up in one moment for me.  We’re walking back to the band room and my daughter is talking with friends.  Suddenly I hear:  “Hey everyone – it’s my mom and dad!  I LOVE YOU MOM AND DAD!!!”  Unexpectedly there are 20 or so teenagers shouting out their love for us and I know without a doubt that, though I feel done-in, I would do it all again in a heartbeat just to hear my child exclaim her appreciation in such a manner.  This is what it’s all about.  I cry a little and grin a lot.

Reader – did you think I forgot to finish my story about my exhaustion?  Not at all.  We collapsed at home in bed and woke up early-“ish” the next day.  By Noon I was wide awake, showered, and out doing my normal weekend errands such as grocery shopping etc.  At 3:00 I realize the exhaustion of the past three days has not left me.  Being the smart assertive girl that I am, I listened to my husband suggest an energy drink and immediately agreed.  Zip fizz is the best – so we partook.  At 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5am this morning I was cursing this company for their excellent product and positive that contacting an attorney with intent to sue would be the best path of revenge to seek. 

I sit here now, sharing these events with you, and wondering if there’s any fix good enough to keep my eyes from doing the “I’m so tired I wiggle” dance that they’ve been participating in all morning.  Seriously – exhaustion – it’s not underrated.  It’s not anything but pure agony.  Of course it’s also Monday morning.  The combination is almost too much to bear.  But of course I will be fine.  I will run my “after work errands” and then go home and throw the trout I set out this morning in the oven.  After dinner I will kiss everyone goodnight and collapse for sure.  Tomorrow’s another day!!!!!!

My Angel...

Your Joy and your Laughter
Happiness for ever after
Ohhhh - that's just you

The sunshine in your eyes
Never comes as a surprise
oh no - that's what you do.

And though for a season I won't see you friend
I know it's a short time 'til I see you again
For now when I need you I'll just close my eyes
And see you dancing in the skies.....

The joy that overflows your cup
The way your whole face always lights up
Oh - the smiles you've made...

My friend and a mother -
Daughter, Sister and a lover
oh - the joy you gave....

And though for a season I won't see you friend
I know it's a short time 'til I see you again
For now when I need you I'll just close my eyes
And see you dancing in the skies.....

So Angel please guide us
Always staying right beside us
oh - we need you still

Your spirit surrounds us
Heaven's wings will wrap around us
oh - let our hearts heal

And though for a season I won't see you friend
I know it's a short time 'til I see you again
For now when I need you I'll just close my eyes
And see you dancing in the skies.....
And see you dancing in the skies..................

STRESS

I love to cook.  Although some of my friends are quite frank about how awesome and terrific they can cook (Hazel), I choose to take a more humble approach and just hope it turns out for the best.  I am not amazing.  I am not terrific.  But I do enjoy it and absolutely love it when others enjoy my creations too.  GAWD – I’m so full of shit today!!!!!  I love to cook and think I’m pretty good most of the time.  I admit however to undertaking projects that eventually drive me insane and to creating recipes that we’ll call “undesirable” to say the least!  This week just happens to be one of those weeks. 

While I don’t intend to go on and on and on about the situation in my blog today, I did want you, Reader, to know that I am under added stress and pressure therefore reacting a bit oddly to otherwise normal situations.  This is what leads up to a moment I call “Stomping Stalker”. 

So today I am walking back to work from a somewhat tense lunch.  Immediately after I hug my friends goodbye I turn and start walking towards my office.  I am just a few steps away when I begin hearing a rather loud stomping fall in behind me.  Odd, I think.  What an annoying walk this person has.  I continue walking, picking up my pace a bit to see if I can leave “stomper” behind.  Oh no – stomper decides that he/she will pick up her pace also.  Weird – I think stomper wants to follow me.  Quickly I think about my options.  I stop short and cross the street before it’s necessary just to get away from the mystery stomper behind me.  I smile as I cannot hear stomping behind me.  RELIEF!  Ha!  Whatever!  Suddenly there is a “trotting stomp” behind me.  CRAP!  I continue walking – imagining that this stomping person has to be 7 feet tall – is probably very scary looking, and not someone I particularly want to walk down the street with.  WHY is stomping person following me?  I stop when I could have crossed the street at the corner thinking Stomping Person will go around me and cross – mind you, no traffic is coming.  Oh No…not at all.  Stomping person stops behind me.  I try to look out of the corner of my eye to see if I can catch a glimpse but see nothing.  This is the moment that I decide to call this being “Stomping Stalker”.  The “Walk” sign changes and I begin walking again.  So does SS.  Clunk Clunk Clunk Clunk Clunk – good grief!  My heart starts beating a little fast because I’m positive that SS is following me for a reason.  I’m about to be mugged in broad daylight..  I tighten my grip on my purse.  Do I know this person?  Is it someone that I passed on the street earlier and gave a dirty look too?  I promise Reader my dirty looks aren’t on purpose – they’re actual involuntary responses that come across my face when the thoughts in my head are not nice. --- totally unavoidable.   

Just as panic is about to seize me I see my building up ahead.  Relief replaces the panic and I make a beeline for the door.   Ahhhhhhh – I grab the handle and push – I’m SAFE!!!!  Wait….WTH????  I’m heading towards the elevator and SS is in my lobby!!!!!   Calmly I reach the elevators and there are other people there.  I cross to the far side and slowly turn around to face my stalker.  DO WHAT??????????  The only thing I see is this petite woman with ridiculously large RED clunky high heel booties on that look absolutely out of place on her and totally clash with the outfit she’s wearing!  This is SS?  The elevator door opens and I, along with two others and SS get in.  Sure enough – she clunked right on.  I press 12 and so does she – SERIOUSLY?  The others get off on 7.  I’m alone with the SS.  She is completely involved with her blackberry the way I am completely involved with her ugly red shoes.  We reach the 12^th floor – she walks to the left and clunks into the law office and I walk quietly to Advent wondering how in the world I was near hysteria over a skinny bitch with ugly shoes. 

Ahhhhh – maybe I am feeling a little stressed over project I have decided to undertake for the weekend!!!

My children's dictionary....

Many times throughout the last 20 years of raising my children I have realized that we often do not share the same opinion with regards to the meaning of words. 

For instance - who would have thought that 10 years ago murdering my son would have been an option, but when he walked in the room and said "That's Fat!" I saw red.  Right as I was about to swing the fatal blow Ben explains to me that he doesn't mean F-A-T, but rather P-H-A-T and it means:  Cool. 
“Do what?” I say!!!
Fast forward a couple years and suddenly I'm worried about the need for speech therapy.  Me:  Hey Ben can you bring me the phone?  Ben:  Aiight.  Me:  What?  Ben:  Aiight.  Me:  WHAT are you saying?  Ben:  Alllll-Riiigghhtt.  Me:  Do you need speech therapy??  Ben:  Mom - it's just the new way of saying it.  Me:  How about we pronounce our words.  I know it's odd to think of - but that's the way I like it. 
Over the years I've learned that while I think "bounce" refers to movement, the kids think "let's bounce" means "let's leave".  Imagine the quizzical look I gave my daughter the first time she said:  Let's Bounce, Mama!  Seriously?  You want to suddenly jump up and down???
 Of course the first time I heard my son talk about a guy and say:  He's blazed....I literally had a moment of shock where I thought my son was talking about how hot this dude was.  Immediately I was saying to myself that I could love my son no matter what and I would be supportive and tell him it was okay to come "out".  Very calmly I ask him:  So you think he's really cute?  He about busts a gut as he screams NOOOOO!!!!  Then he tries to be calm and explain that "blazed" means "high" or "strung out".  Ahhhhhhhh.......  Silently I said a prayer of thanks that my son did not have to go through a life of homosexual prejudice and struggle.

Other times I just want throw my hands up in the air and exclaim "COULD WE PLEASE SPEAK ENGLISH IN THIS HOUSE!"  When my daughter said:  "I need to collect some dead presidents" truly dear Reader, truly I absolutely knew that she meant she had a history assignment to write about our past presidents.  My answer:  I'll help you with that later tonight.  Much to my surprise Kennedy was delighted.  Wow - I thought.  It's so neat that she wants my help with homework and she’s a teenager!  I'm glad we're so close.  After dinner and dishes are over I look at Kennedy and say:  Let’s get on that report kiddo!  Kennedy looks at me like I’m from outer space.  “What are you talking about, Mom?”  I say:  “Duh!  You’re history assignment.”  She says:  “I don’t have a history assignment.”  I say:  “Don’t try to pull that on me young lady.  You told me about it earlier and said you had to collect dead presidents!”  Kennedy immediately plops down on the floor and starts laughing so hard she cannot breathe.  “What?  Whaaaat?” I yell.  I’m irritated to say the least.  This punk is NOT going to get away with not doing her homework.  She catches her breath – “MOM!  When I say collect dead presidents I mean I need MONEY!!!  I thought you were going to give me some money tonight for the movies this weekend.”  Obviously, I am disappointed.  Not only are we not “as close” as I thought we were; but there was no homework and no asking for help…..just a bratty teenager wanting more money.  UGH!!!

Obviously, I now just stay in a solid state of confusion while in conversation with my children.  I simply do not assume to have a clue what they are talking about.  I have come to realize that when Ben says:  “That’s clean!”  He means “That’s nice”.  When Nick says:  “Whoa – that’s off the Heasy” He really means:  Off the hook which means cool.  When someone’s a “shooter” it means they’re showing off.  “Sup!” mean’s What’s up.  “Wicked hot” means “Very hot”.

But I have, nevertheless, learned that when I speak to someone who is less than 30 years old I must practice a well-known technique called Repetitive Listening.  When one of the boys says:  She’s such a scrub.  I now say:  Honey do you mean the girl’s a maid or that she’s ugly and you don’t like her?  This has lessoned the amount of times I am ridiculed and has helped me gain a certain level of “cool” with the friends.  Guests arrive to me saying:  Yo!  You Straight?  And when I’m dropping the kids off at the movies I can say (in front of everyone) Yo Kennedy – you need some coin?”  and I can shout to the rest of the girls “What’s Doin?”

The kids absolutely enjoy my “wicked” vocabulary…….. I'm so gangsta!

Water....

Right now I 'm focusing on the consumption of water.  Why?  Because I want to be healthier.  It's not just water that I'm focusing on, I'm also doing things like eating small 200 calorie meals 6 times a day and walking, which surprisingly enough is not hard to accomplish at all.  It's this damn water that is driving me crazy.  Understand that for a living, I sit at my desk in front of a computer talking on the telephone.  That's it.  I call literally hundreds of people a week and then a fraction of them will actually call me back. A smaller fraction will listen to me tell them why they need to appear in Good Housekeeping Magazine and then an even smaller fraction will agree with me.  For this to take place though, I actually have to be sitting at my desk.  Makes sense, right?  Now back to the water.  When you drink 125 ounces of water before 5pm every day, does it really leave you with any time to do much else besides drink and pee?  Forgive my vulgarity reader, but seriously - I don't remember a time that I went to the bathroom 4 times in just 3 1/2 hours!!!  Now let's be clear - there's none of this "tinkle tinkle" shit happening.  No.  Not when  you have 64 ounces of water in you before Noon.  It sounds like the maintenance man is in the bathroom using a power washer to clean the toilet.  This leads to the next subject - public bathrooms.  Granted the bathroom I use is only shared by approximately 15 women on my floor, but I'm guessing that hearing a power washer person in the bathroom is not a pleasant experience for them to endure.  Could you imagine taking your bathroom break at work, walking into the bathroom, and being assaulted with the sounds of a raging waterfall?  I'm sure everyone who has had to encounter this disgusting event has stopped for a second to make sure there wasn't water spraying anywhere - a toilet leak - a busted pipe - certainly those aren't the sounds of a normal human being?

Water - obviously it's necessary - even the 125 ounces before 5pm if I'm trying to get my body back into healthy condition.  All I can offer is an apology to those who have to hear me complain and have the rotten luck of entering the bathroom at the same time as I do.  I'm sorry. 

Water - love to hate it.

Jolly Green Giant....

This weekend I spent time working for my daughter and her "causes."  My friday night "relaxation" time at Barleycorn's became a 6-10 shift at Ryle High School selling Hot Dogs, Burgers, Popcorn, Soft Pretzels, Pop, Candy and whatever a Nerd Rope is.  From the first sale forward I never stopped.  No breaks.  Nothing to drink but 2 swigs of a diet pepsi.  However, when the 4th person jumped in to start helping and managed to knock me with his elbow 10 times within 20 minutes I decided it was time to bail.  Therefore I left my shift 15 mins early.  I'm terrible I know. 

Let's examine this situation a little closer.  Imagine a 20 X 10 space in which you are to cook, refrigerate, heat and sell food.  Now add in 6 people working in this enclosed space.  Then add in a 6'5" 350lb man who is obviously a little depleted in the brain cell area.  With all of his huh? what? and other significant questions he is truly a helpful addition.  Now add in the fact that he feels like sharing MY cash register would be the most convenient spot for him to be helpful.  Nevermind that my process has been running seamlessly up until this point.  I have sweated, called orders, jumped other's when they tried to steal my customer's hot pretzel and handled the performance of this job perfectly.  Suddenly the Jolly Green Giant is jabbing me in the boobs, stepping on my feet and then - reader this is no lie - as I reach under the counter to get change for my customer JGG actually leans forward and has the balls to rub his BALLS against my hand.  UGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!  For all of this loving physical affection he has shown there hasn't been ONE freaking apology.  Are You Kidding?  I'm not sure he knows how to do anything but mutter one syllable words like "Huh?"  After this final act of grotesque ball feeling I muttered a few distinct cusswords under my breath - grabbed my diet pepsi and walked away.  15 minutes later when my shift officially ended, Brian came looking for me. 

Brian:  "What happened?"
Me:  That @#$%^&*(*@#$%^&*(@#$%^&* made me touch his BALLLLLLZZZZZZZZZ!!!

Brian cannot speak because he finds the situation hilarious and is laughing.  Of course when he realizes that my face is beet red and I am not finding the same humor as he, he is suddenly able to find his calm. 

Brian:  "I'm so sorry honey"
Me:  !@#$%^&*()@#$%^&*!@#$%^&*

Ahhhhhh - now I feel better......     He rubs my back as we walk away.   When we get home he offers to fix me an adult beverage and serves it to me on the strong side.  After I've washed the skin off of my hands and checked myself for large bruises I am able to relax. 

I am certain that the next time I see JGG I will thank him for the feel he so graciously allowed me to cop at Friday's game and then I'll whisper in his ear - work on growing them a bit more because I couldn't actually feel a damn thing.   Asshole.