How to Be an Awesome Mom, Part Eleventy

Last night we went out to eat, a treat from my brother-in-law in honor of Son’s birthday. It had been a long week, so Hubby suggested I have a drink. I was way ahead of him, and ordered a martini sampler: Guavatini, Lemondrop, and Chocolatini. Look, I know those aren’t “real” martinis, ok? But a beer wasn’t going to cut it and I wanted sugar to be my alcohol carrier.

Aren’t they adorable?? And smashing. No, really. You can get smashed on one order alone.

Anyway, Son was interested in trying them. Hilarity ensued.

Son: Mom, what’s the dark one?

Me: That’s the chocolatini.

Son: The what?

Me: (enunciating slowly) Chocolate martini.

Son: May I try it?

Me: Sure. (Don’t y’all wish I was your mom??)

Son: (coughing and gagging) Ugh! It’s like chocolate alcohol!!

Me: That’s the POINT!!

Sometimes, this job is way too easy 😉

In Sadness, Joy

Yesterday was a very long day. We buckled down and cleaned and organized the garage, which meant clearing out trash, donating the useful stuff, putting up shelving, unpacking boxes, and finding long lost memories.

Like baby shoes, and photographs, and cigar butts, and school mementos, pressed flowers, and even old love letters from Hubby-before-he-was-Hubby. There were wood blocks, and old tiaras, and some old children’s books. But among all the papers and photos, there was one item that brought me to tears: my grandmother’s last letter to me.

I stood in the kitchen, reading the once-elegant and now spidery writing, thinking of the woman who wrote it. She was a very proper woman, who never went outside without a parasol to protect her from the Sun. She taught me to read and write before I started school. She loved to have us entertain her with songs. She loved red flowers, and always had cafe au lait at 3 o’clock.

I stood in the kitchen, reading her last words to me, and thinking about how much it hurt her to lose her independence those last few months of her life. She could have been bitter, but instead chose to be thankful for the small acts of kindness shown to her, and for her correspondences with her grandchildren. Knowing how we had blossomed and how we had our own families made her very happy. She told me it would be her last letter to me, since she could no longer hold a pen. As I read that my heart broke again, knowing how much she enjoyed to write. She passed away a couple of months after that, when I was pregnant with Little One. Oddly enough, Little One has the same love of writing that my grandmother had, along with her disposition! She would have been 110 years old last April 27th.

Time to plant geraniums in the garden, and enjoy the day 🙂

Cinderella I’m Not

Nor do I wish to be. But sometimes out of necessity, I have to step out of her shoes.

Last evening Little One came up to me and asked to try on my sneakers. This is highly unusual for two reasons: 1) she does NOT like other people’s shoes, and 2) I have smaller feet. However, I complied and let her try them on. As she walked around, my spidey sense went off (a bit later than usual, because I was still enjoying my sandwich from Subway™). So I asked her why she needed  to try on my shoes.

Turns out she lost her gym shoes.

Monday.

But told me Tuesday evening, 20 minutes before the mall closed.

Not Monday after school, when I had time to take her to get new ones.

So that means I get to dress up to go grocery shopping instead of relying on sweats and sneakers. And by “dress up” I mean wear jeans and boots.

I live in the South, after all 😉

I Don’t Need an Adventure, Since I Shop at Wal-Mart™

Last night after dinner, the girls asked if we could stop at Wal-Mart™ for cotton swabs. I figured it would be a quick trip since we were on that side of the highway already. The first thing I did was check my clothes. I don’t want anyone taking my pic for the “People of Walmart” site. Then I checked my teeth for the same reason.

We went in and suddenly, Eldest had to check Electronics for a CD and Little One had to get cookies for her after school practice. One heads north, the other west, and I head east to the far side of the store to get what we came to get, cotton swabs.

Only I took a slight detour and ended in the floral section, where they had burlap ribbon. In my defense, it was still on the way to the baby section. Oh, and the moss was on clearance, so I got that, too. As I was leaving the aisle, a man turns to me to ask my opinion on candle scents. He was trying to choose between a floral and a spice. I asked him where he was going to burn it, and he said (no joke) his car. I told him to go with the spice. I figured it would make the smouldering heap that will soon be his car smell better.

I spent the next five minutes wandering back to the Electronics, to find that both girls are looking at videogames. “I thought you were looking for a CD?” I inquired. Eldest replied that they didn’t have it, so they were looking for other stuff.

At that point I did exclaim, “GAH!!!”

We make our way to the baby section, and get cotton swabs, when suddenly they both exclaim, “WE NEED SHAMPOO!!!” Fine…shampoo is one aisle over. Then they proceed to look over every single brand to determine which would make their hair look like a Pantene™ commercial. We all know the answer is “none”, but still they want to pick something new. And it can’t be the same brand, either. As I wait, I overhear a lady further down the aisle telling her daughter to hurry up and pick something.

I’m glad to see it wasn’t just me.

Finally, they pick out their miracle formulas, and we head out to pay. And suddenly, AGAIN, they remember razors. Back we go, get razors, and go all the way down to the self-checkout lane, where out of fifteen lanes, only three are in operating order. Sigh…. Finally we get to a lane, and proceed to check out, taking far longer due to the fact that the bags were not co-operating and the guy manning the stations kept having to unlock me out because the scanner was insisting I had an unauthorized item in my bag, which was impossible since the bags were not co-operating.

So, what was supposed to take maybe 15 minutes turned into a 45 minute ordeal and cost $60. All because we needed cotton swabs. And guess what? I get to do it all over again, because I forgot to get Hubby’s razor blades.

It’s not a job. It’s an adventure 😉

The Sniffle Diaries

Well, it seems as though this South Texas winter wants to screw with our heads, not with weather but with pollen and viruses. For the past two weeks, I’ve had sick kids get better, only to fall sick again when someone at school brings something new to share. Today I have Little One at home, laying on the couch watching cartoon after cartoon after cartoon. At first it was Spongebob, then Ponies, then Looney Tunes, now Zim.

My brain is mushy.

Oh, thank goodness! She just turned it to Phineas and Ferb.

Anyway, having a sick kid usually means catering to their every need. Unfortunately, my Little One refuses to take any medications. BUT, she wants me to cure her ills. So for her I rely on providing liquids, heating pad, and ice pack for her headache. And chocolate. That seems to restore her happy mood.

If only I had thought of that. An apple a day has NOTHING on chocolate pills 😉

Flighty

This morning found me in a grey world. Overcast and cooler outside, and slight drizzles, the kind that are light enough to stand in, but hell to drive in. And as usual, the people who freak out over condensed moisture were out and about making a nuisance for everyone. One lady had her hazards on and was driving ten miles under the speed limit. How do I know it was the drizzle and not car trouble that made her slow and cautious? Because she was hunched over the steering wheel, peering through the windshield like it was covered in mud.

We have a few of them around here. Rain is that unusual.

Anyway, as I was waiting at the stop light, I looked up, and saw the migratory grackles, all in rows.

I had to laugh, thinking of a much younger Eldest the first time she noticed them here in winter:

Eldest: Daddy, why are there still so many birds around? Don’t they fly south for the winter?

Hubby: Honey, they did. THIS is the south they fly to!

Eldest: Why not go to Mexico? It’s way warmer.

Me: Because there they are part of the food chain, honey.

Eldest: 😯

No, it’s true. I’ve partaken of pigeon and grackle stew before on my many visits there. Good stuff, too! No sense in being delicate about the Circle of Life™, you know. But really, I just wanted to freak her out.

I’m a mom. It’s my job 😉

How YOU Doin’??

What. A. Weekend.

It all began innocently enough. I had plans to go to a scrapbooking party on Saturday. I planned this MONTHS ago. That was my first mistake. I forgot that school functions get scheduled just a month out. So, we had a UIL meet, and the Military Ball both scheduled for that Saturday. I figured I was still Supermom, and could manage to fit my stuff around that schedule.

Until Son cut his head open on Friday afternoon.

And the train stopped on the main thoroughfare due to malfunction.

And Little One had after school practice.

And of course I panicked.

So, after inching in traffic for what seemed hours, I managed to pick up all the kidlets, dropped off the girls at home, and raced to urgent care, where Hubby was to meet us.

Yes, those are staples. I call him Frohnkenshteen now.

And this was just on Friday. Then Saturday arrived, and decided that plans were for wusses, because the UIL meet went longer than planned, and Son had elected to go to the Ball early to help, and Eldest had a friend come over to get ready, and of course I came down with a cold. And so, my plans were scratched. Again…

But no matter. One day I will learn my lesson. I will make plans only a week ahead of time, and maybe, just maybe they will go off without a hitch.

And one day pigs will fly 😉

Because Sickness is My Schtick, or Something

Today I have a sick teenager at home.  Though it is in my job description to be the resident Florence Nightingale, I am always struck but how the sick patient in question relies on my old wives tale style of nursing rather than on her father’s medical training. It never fails.

Sicko: Mom, I don’t feel so good.

Me: Hm… you better have your father check you.

Sicko: Why?

Me: Seriously, you have to ask??

Sicko: But you’re the mom.

Me: Ok, let me see…

(takes temp, feels for clamminess, etc.)

Me: I can make you a concoction of milk, onion juice, ginger and cinnamon which may help.

Sicko: I guess I’ll have dad check me out…

Works every time. Ironically, so does the concoction. Unfortunately, it was something my grandmother made for pain, and she has no recipe for it. Which when you think about the ingredients, I’m kind of relieved.

Guess I will stick with ibuprofen, then 😉

Why Do I Bother Making Plans??

I found out this week that there was going to be a huge, and I mean HUGE antique shindig today in a town not to far from me. Aside from my junking for crafting dealio, I have also been on a mission to find the perfect chair for my leather-inlaid antique desk. I’ve had this desk since 1996, acquired at a neighbor’s estate sale. The reason the price was so low was due to it missing a chair. Anyway, I have been looking for a matching chair forever, and thought YAY! This is the weekend to go look!

Only to have my plans shrivel up and die like grapes in the Texas sun.

Me: Honey, can we go to the antiques show? PLEEEEEEEEEEEASE???

Hubby: Sure, when?

Me: This Saturday. We can maybe finally get a chair for the des—

Hubby: Sorry, honey, but I have a conference I can’t skip.

Me: Awwww…. well, at least it will be a quiet weekend.

Hubby: Oh, and BIL is staying with us this weekend, too.

Me: Ahhh…well, the kids will stay busy.

Hubby: Oh, and we have an extra kid, since Flower Girl is going to the conference and she couldn’t get a babysitter.

Me: At least she’s a fun kid. How long will it be for?

Hubby: All day.

Me: *mentally counts remaining wine inventory* *sobs*

And I just remembered the play-offs.

And kids have a Skyrim marathon today.

I think I will hide in my room today 🙂

Shopping Day

With the kids.

Pray for me.

This is possibly the shortest post ever.

Maybe.