Been absent and I apologize

With the onset of the school year in August came new routines and tasks to incorporate into our daily lives.  Somehow, days turned into weeks, and now we find ourselves at the end of the calendar year.  Where has the time gone? 

I have not abandoned my time in the blogsphere, and I do plan to recap the months since I last wrote.  The antics in our house continue and we've added a few furry members to our clan, temporarily.

I won't leave you hanging, but, wanted to at least acknowledge my absence and say, "I'm alive!".  I plan to soon update this blog to include kindergarten, running, cats and kittens, and three year old "joys".

Stay tuned.

Baby steps...it's the small things...

My big three year old

As a working mom, one has to acknowledge early on that their children may reach certain milestones while not in the presence of their parents. We take this burden with us as we move along in the working world, and try to cast this thought from our minds and only accept said milestones when they occur and we are there to witness them. Things like first steps, first teeth breaking through, first words spoken are all things that won't ever officially happen until Mommy and Daddy actually see it happen. When we, the parents, witness such an event, it's like a new beginning, a new path to explore, and a new story to share at the office.

There have been days when it bothers me to know that another person might hear my child's first word, except when I learn that it's a swear word, then I'm glad they didn't say that to me. When the first tooth breaks, I'm glad I wasn't the first person they bit with that tooth. And when they take their first steps, I'm glad I wasn't there when they walked right into a wall (although I likely would have laughed at that). I like to see the bright side of these events and remind myself of the mantra I adopted when I first placed Ethel in the swing that first day in day care - "It doesn't happen until I see it happen". Come on, as parents, we all know that phrase, don't try to tell me you don't!

So, this is why I hope you'll understand what I'm about to write below. The last few months, it's all been hearsay and rumour, and I don't believe this has ever happened before. I mean, for as little as my efforts have afforded me at home this summer, it's likely they may very well have been lying to me at day care, who knows. So, guess what happened this morning!

-

FRED PEED ON THE POTTY THIS MORNING!!!! AND I SAW IT HAPPEN!!!!

I danced, I yelled, I cheered, I hugged him, I clapped, I celebrated! Ethel laid there on Fred's bed, tired and cold, playing her role as Ms. Crabby Pants in the morning.  She wasn't quite as excited as I was.  Hm.

I just had to share this victory.  Thanks for reading, if you did.

Kindergarten Chronicles, Part 1

OK, I need to chronicle our school year.  It's the night before her first day.  Please excuse this brain dump.

Didn't get the Kleenex, resealable bags, or Lysol wipes from the supply list (but have everything else).  Will have to talk to the teacher about the latter two items b/c I don't want to buy them, and think the school could be more environmentally responsible, and will ask the teacher about that tomorrow.  I'd rather send a bottle of Green Works and rolls of paper towels (compostable, at least), but we'll see what happens.

I tried to talk up tomorrow without upsetting her.  Often when she's tired, even the most fun events can be upsetting to her the night before.  So I stayed excited but not over the top. 

This afternoon I had that vision.  That vision of my tiny daughter with her huge (on her) backpack walking up the sidewalk to her classroom.  The vision of my tiny daughter making friends outside those she has at the day care and in our circle of friends.  The vision of my daughter flourishing, on her own, outside the little world she knows today.  The vision of my little girl growing up.  The vision of myself sobbing as I head back home after dropping her off because this is a new world for both of us, and she will have the upper hand, and an intimate knowledge of that world, moreso than I.  She will master this new world long before I will. 

This is now her world.  This is her chance to explore, enjoy, and thrive.  She will blossom like the delicate flowers we planted this spring from seed, which are vibrant and full of life today, just as she.  I know many can relate to the power of what I'm feeling, I just can't effectively put it into words.  Nor can I believe that this ton of bricks is coming down on me like it is.  I've clearly been in denial for quite a while.

I'm not the weepy type, and I don't like to admit that I will probably cry tomorrow.  I'm not sure why I'm trying to convince myself not to cry tomorrow.  Parents send their kids off to school all the time, this is not the first time it's ever happened.  She'll live.  I'll live.  We'll go through this at different school year milestones.  I feel kind of silly to those who have gone before me and sent their kids off, I feel like I shouldn't cry or be emotional, because those before me have already shed those tears.  I should just suck it up.  Afterall, I know we'll all be fine, and I know everyone gets through it.  So why the tears?

But that's the thing.  The tears are coming.  They just are.  The calendar didn't speed up on the 26th of November 2004, or the 3rd of March 2007.  Time has always passed at the same rate.  So why does it seem like these last nearly six years are such a blur?  Why does it feel like we just brought her home?  Why does it feel like kindergarten just snuck up on me?

I am foreshadowing, anticipating that school will be stressful for her as it was for me.  I don't have my own shit together, how can I be an effective parent and guide for her on this journey through school? 

OK, I need to stop there.  I'm driving myself mad. I will keep my kindergarten chronicle here and document our progress throughout the year.  I really hope to have my shit together enough to keep an accurate journal of our time in kindergarten, and throughout grade school.

Until tomorrow...

The identity of MOM

A friend of mine was sharing her feelings on becoming a mom of a school age kid, as her oldest begins kindergarten this week.  I think we all go through a myriad of emotions as our children reach different milestones, but for some reason the start of kindergarten seems to hit most of us the hardest.  Whether we work outside the home or at home (let's face it, every mom WORKS), seeing our little ones enter the realm of school is a tough pill to swallow. 

Our little babies are swallowed by backpacks (well mine is, she's tiny), meeting new kids, they have a new teacher, they're exposed to all kinds of new things.  Will they make friends?  Will they find the bathroom?  Will they ask questions if they need help?  Will they be able to open their lunch box?  Will they know where to go when they get off the bus, and where to go to get back on at the end of the day? 

Unlike the comfort of the day care, where we walk them to a room, give them hugs and kisses and leave them with a teacher who will give them a hug or rest them in their lap, now we're shoving them out of the car (minivan, perhaps?) at the sidewalk hoping they get to their classroom.  It's almost like airport security for some of us.  You can only go so far before you hit the "no parents zone", defined by an imaginary line, and the kids are effectively on their own.  That's if you're lucky enough that your kid will let you go as far as the imaginary line, and they're not already embarassed to be getting dropped off by their parents and getting a hug and kiss in front of the whole school.  I'm sorry, I digress.

Oh, there are so many worries we have as parents as we send our kids off to school.  My day is coming tomorrow, and I am only hoping I can sleep tonight.  And that I remember to pack her lunch.  But that's another story altogether.

On the flip side of the coin, for me (and many moms) this means that I'm an adult.  I'm one of those people they call 'parents'.  What the hell?  When did that happen?  Seriously?  Only adults do that.  I'm not an adult.  Wait, what?  That's *my* kid going to school?  Come on, you're nuts.  I'm.......wait.....um.....sigh.....

I almost can't finish the sentence.  I'm an adult.  OK, so my first sign might have come when I signed my first apartment lease, or when I started my first job, surpassed 10 years at my second job, or even when I bought my first place.  But.it.didn't.  I have been in denial for many years now.  Reality is slowly coming at me from behind, striking me in the back of the head as if to say, "Hey, Lady!".  And we all know what it means when they start to call you Lady.  Craptastic.

I pull up to a softball game (intercompany beer league) with two huge car seats in my back seat and remember when I used to pull up with beer in the back seat. I look around at all the 20-somethings going out for happy hour after work like I used to, and I'm going to pick up the kids. I see all the skinny girls walking around in cute clothes, and can't remember the last time I bought anything tighter than a garbage bag, let alone the last time I bought something for myself at all.


But then I get home. Home is my world. My family and kids are the focus at home. Nothing else matters. I don't have the same crisis when I'm at home. It's when I'm out, usually without them, that I feel like I'm not the same me that I was 10 years ago. And I went through the Chuck Taylors yesterday when I was at Target, remembering my first pair back in college, hoping that I might get myself another pair really soon. I also recently donated my beloved Doc Marten Mary Janes. And last night at Meijer, when I took Ethel to the "back to school" section, I felt like I should run for the hills. I seriously felt conflicted.

I feel like a huge dork so often, and can't believe that I have become who/what I am right now. I'm conformist in ways I never imagined I could ever be. I work in an office, a corporate office. I own a home, a Saturn, and live in the 'burbs. It doesn't get much worse than that.

But it doesn't get much better, either. I'm really hoping that I can resolve my identity conflict soon because I often feel like I spend more time on that than I do enjoying where I am today, and thriving as the mom my kids should have, and the wife my husband married. Still, I have to say, I wouldn't trade where I'm at today for anything.
 
I think that after dropping my daughter off at school tomorrow, I'll return home and put in my best cassette copy of Upstairs at Eric's {note to self - find cassette player} and dance with Fred.  While I cry.  Then I'll drink more coffee.
 
Updates to follow.

Life on the edge of the mattress

Before you go thinking that this post is something family unfriendly, I tell you now it's not.  I'm not discussing casting couches or date nights, I'm actually talking about slumber, snoozing, getting some zzz's.  Or not getting them.

Humans have spent their entire existence perfecting the art of sleep.  We've developed a myriad of tools to aid us in finding that perfect night's sleep, some of which are fleeting fads, some of which are simply part of the mainstream.  Probably the most common, non-medicinal, tool for sleep is the bed.  Usually a box spring and mattress atop a frame, beds come in different sizes to accommodate the user(s).  Regardless, the bed is supposed to help us get comfortable and keep us contained so that we can enjoy a restful night in peaceful slumber.


Once the right bed has been chosen, we have to figure out whether we should sleep on our back, on our side, on our tummy, the possibilities are endless.  As are the possible outcomes, since many of us move around in our sleep.  If you have a spouse or partner, you then have to decide whether you should be all this generation and sleep in the same bed, or go the Rob and Laura Petrie route and have your own beds.  Once children arrive, parents are faced with whether to drag themselves out of bed to tend to their newborns, or sleep their babies in their rooms or beds with them.

This brings me to the idea of the family bed.  We don't subscribe to this sleeping arrangement, but some families do.  I am much too selfish to share my bed, except with my husband.  Sometimes, even that's a bit much for me.  That's just how it is.  Interestingly, humans are the only species on Earth who don't sleep with their young.  It's true!  Many, like myself, put their babies in another room to sleep, and some sleep them in the same room but in a separate sleeping station such as a crib or other suitable baby sleeper.  Each has its pros and cons based on the needs and wants of the family.  I need, and want, a good night sleep, and prefer not to have sniffly, snoring, sleeping sideways little creatures in my bed with me.  Well, except my husband.

Back to the point.  So, I have come to conclude that families who subscribe to the family bed have developed their own unique tools to help them get that perfect night sleep.  I firmly believe that they must have a good chiropractor, and great meds.  Meds to drug everyone to sleep, and the chiropractor to realign them after being kicked, shoved, contorted, and otherwise mangled during the night while everyone rolls, thrashes, and moves around the bed during the night.

Now, I have a king sized bed.  I have a husband.  I have two small children.  Periodically, they (the children) will be scared by a thunder storm, a noise in their room, or they'll have a bad dream and want to come snuggle with Mommy.  Yes, Mommy, not Daddy.  Other times, they're not feeling well and they wake often in the night and they need comfort to return to sleep. Last night, we experienced all of the above.

Fred was feeling a little under the weather.  He's had a slightly runny nose for a couple of days, but nothing more than a cold.  Last night, after a full weekend of playing inside and outside, and getting eaten alive by mosquitoes, he was tuckered out long before he went to bed.  He fell asleep as soon as his (not so) little head hit the pillow.  Mommy's only worry last night was that he might get another nose bleed.  Silly Mommy.

Ethel was the epitome of exhausted.  There is no word strong enough to explain how tired she was yesterday.  She doesn't nap any longer so her fatigue level builds up until she simply collapses.  Long story short, we're still waiting for the collapse (an afternoon nap one day).  She, too, fell asleep in just about the blink of an eye last night.

I, myself, had to hit the sack early last night after a day of swimming lessons, picking up around the house, and doing some shopping for necessities around the house.  It wasn't a terribly busy day, but, for a Saturday, we had a lot to do.  Regardless, I fell asleep and didn't hear the three times Fred was up before 11PM.  At that hour, I went into his room to find Daddy rocking him as he cried looking for Mommy.  Poor thing was warm, probably still asleep, and making no sense.  I knew in an instant that we (I) would get little sleep if this continued, so I opted to bring him into our bed.  Seriously, I had not had a single drink and yet I still chose to sleep with this child.

Have you ever slept with a hurricane?  With the spin cycle on the washing machine?  With a boxer?  No?  Well, you're missing a night with Fred {sorry to his future significant other(s), but, here's some foreshadowing to think about}.

He's never been one that's easy to sleep with.  He'll smack you in the face before you can enjoy his gentle breath on your face as he rolls over toward you.  He'll swing his leg into your belly while you saw logs.  He'll breathe on you, snore in your face, and wrap his arm around your neck before you realize he's even close enough to you to make contact.  It's a real treat.  Last night he added a shout out to the neighbor's dog, including a request to go pet that dog.  At 3AM.  At 3AM I heard, "I want to go see, Cody"; "Is Cody awake?"; "Can we go pet Cody?".  I wouldn't joke about something like this.  I wouldn't.  Really.

The talking wasn't really what got to me.  Fred is a large child, and is not easy to move, let alone when he's asleep.  He's not that cute, tiny, sleeping infant in the picture at the top of the page.  He's 37 lbs of dead weight.  Seriously.

So, somewhere about 2AM was when Ethel decided she was scared in her room and that she needed to charge to my side of the bed and whine, whimper, whatever that was at that hour, to get into bed next to me.  Well, honey, SURPRISE, your little brother is already in here!  Woo hoo, par-tay!  Not.

Got her settled, rolled over, and realized, that was the edge of the bed I was staring at.  No, really.  I'd seen it several times already, but now I was a little more awake, and it was a little (a lot) more real.  Craptastic.  I had already given up my body pillow, and now was having to deal with sleeping at the edge of my KING SIZE BED!  These two kids are a collective 68 lbs, it's not like I couldn't take 'em, but, when they're sleeping and snoring and their little noses flare in and out, and you hear that little "sigh" after they roll over every once in a while, you realize that it's best to let sleeping does lie.  It really is.

So, figuring I wouldn't be able to fall asleep again, I gazed out the windows at what few stars I could see and before I knew it, it was 20 minutes later.  Fred stirred, and I took advantage of that moment to slide him a little farther toward Daddy's side of the bed.  That's when I heard, "Why do you keep moving me?".  Who has a good answer to anything at around 2AM?  I didn't think so.

It took most of the night to find a comfortable spot, between Fred's arm swinging over into my face when he rolled onto his back, and Ethel's bad dreams causing whining and rolling over and reaching for Mommy.  At one point, I thought it might be best, if I had a Leatherman handy, (where are those when you need 'em?) to sever my arm at the then painful shoulder, because I wasn't sure the shoulder would ever work again with all the pain it was in from sleeping funny on it.  Funny, not ha, ha funny, mind you.

Then there's the story of my neck.  Fred's pillow boundaries are non-existent.  I can't blame him, he never has had to share a pillow, so he doesn't know that when you sleep next to someone else, they are then "sharing" the pillow with you.  Ethel is lacking the same understanding when she's sleeping.

Before I knew it, I had the top of both their heads head in my face.  Fred's from next to me where he was laying, and Ethel's from laying across the pillows when she fell asleep.  The rest of me was seemingly forced to the very outer edges of the bed.  I.kid.you.not.  I woke at one time and found myself with my body getting ready to fall out of the bed!  The KING sized bed!  What the hell is this about?

Despite my best efforts (pre-dawn, pre-coffee) to move Fred, and/or Ethel, thorughout the night proved fruitless against the wills of a five and three year old.  I have now learned my lesson.

Today, I somehow still managed a good run of just under 4 miles, a nice visit with the neighbors, and two kids who were much more rested than I.  I honestly have no idea how they can wake up in the morning well rested (or seemingly so) after a night of kicking, snoring, talking, and rolling over every three minutes.  Regardless, Fred rose from this sleeping dead and I popped out of bed with him, and I think he was very excited to be in Mommy's room, which is a total treat for both our kids when it comes to overnights.  :)

I only had one night sleeping at the edge of my mattress at the hands of my children.  I don't know how anyone does it night after night after night.

That's all for now.

Sometimes, life gets in the way

What a summer this has been.  Unfortunately, that's about all I can get out for now.  So much I want to write about, so little time and energy!  Summer can be so draining when we're on the go-go-go!

Hopefully this bottlneck in my mind will clear up soon and I can get my brain emptied of all the things I've been storing inside it. 

Me time, where have you gone?

With the onset of summer and all the craziness of our schedules, I have let my Sunday morning me time go by the wayside.  I was alright for a while, but I can see today that I need that time back. 

I'm feeling out of my routine, not as well rested, and not as productive as I was earlier this year.  Perhaps unsettled is the word I'm really looking for.

I'm not sure that going out for coffee every week is really what I need.  Every so often that would be great, but I would really like to do something different.  I need to start running again.

I ran quite a bit in college.  I was never a competitive runner, but I ran almost every day while I was away at school.  A friend and I would just up and go, visiting other friends, running to different areas of town, just wherever our feet would take us.  One of our favourite things to do was to run up and down the steps inside the basketball arena, all the way around (the arena was a round facility, perfect for this kind of activity).  Sometimes we'd go two or three times around, and it was probably the best workout I ever had.

Sometimes we'd just do the steps at the football stadium.  Other times we'd try going all the way around campus and up the hill (small mountain to this flat-lander).  It was such a great feeling to just get up and run.

After college, my schedule and life's twists and turns took me off track.  Running wasn't a priority, nor a necessity.  It wasn't until several years later that I started to run again, and when I did, it was a great feeling all over again.

A friend and coworker and I would head down to the city's lake front, near where she lived, and we'd just run for miles along the lake.  Having someone to run with helped keep us both going, kept us both from slowing down, from stopping, from giving up.  Our reward was always waiting for us back at her place, too.  Once we finished up our run, we headed back to grill salmon burgers, and go sailing with The Captain.  Ah, a Captain and Coke never tasted so good. 

Today, with a husband, a house, two kids, a full time job, and little flexibility in my weekly schedule, it's much harder to just get up and go.  I'm at my best in the morning.  No, I'm not necessarily a morning person, but, I prefer exercise and activity in the morning to any other time of day.  I don't mind mid-day, but evenings are definitely not for me.  This eliminates weekdays as an option, as Daddy leaves for work before I do, and I already wake up at the crack of dawn to make sure I'm ready for work before getting the kids up and ready for day care.

Evenings are equally as poor an option because of our schedules.  Daddy gets home shortly before bed time, so I come home with the kids and make and serve dinner, then we have a short window before we herd everyone upstairs for the bed time routine.  Once the kids are down, it's either dark or I'm just too exhausted to even consider any form of exercise.

This leaves weekends.  Saturday and Sunday mornings are just about the only time I have for a good run.

So, Sunday, how about a couple hours to go running?  How 'bout it?  Shall we try?  I say, sure, why not!

Swimming lessons

The kids are doing great in swimming lessons.

Ethel is the oldest in her class (from what we've been able to figure), and is pretty good!  She isn't as hesitant as I expected her to be.  Today I saw her volunteer to be a leader in a game they played.  Very cool.

Fred loves the water.  Wait, that's not exactly right.  He LOVES the water. :)  Today they added little boards to help the kids kick and float.  I think he likes jumping in (into someone's arms, of course) the best, though.

Ethel's graduation

There's our little graduate.  Graduated?  Wait, how old is she?  

Yes, these days kids are getting caps and gowns and pseudo diplomas as young as four years old (perhaps some earlier?).  Ethel graduated from Pre-K last year, and from Accelerated Pre-K (for the misfit kids who miss the first grade cut-off) at the beginning of this month.  She will enter kindergarten this fall, and will probably have a graduation again next spring  She's going to have a collection of square hats and polyester gowns before she hits first grade!

All that aside, this year's pomp and circumstance was really quite cute.  The kids did some song and dance stuff, demonstrating some of what they learned during the school year, and received little diplomas at the end.  Very sweet, to say the least.  Some of them were excited, some nervous, and a couple just enjoyed singing the fun songs and dancing around the room.

Ethel did much better this year than last year, by actually moving, smiling, and I think she even sang this year!  Yes, ours was that kid who stood with a stone face last year, not doing any of the choreographed moves to the songs being sung.  I even had a woman (someone's "dear" grandmother) turn to me last year and say something to the effect of, "Wow, she's going to be a star".  Let me just say that the written word does not convey properly the level of sarcasm and criticism that resonated in this statement from this "dear" woman.  Had we not been surrounded by a room full of families and young children, I would have most certainly let her know exactly what I was thinking.  Instead, I let her continue on in her little world of ignorance and smiled and said, "Oh, for sure".  Again, you can't hear the "kill 'em with kindness" tone that resonated from my response.  But I digress.

I leave you now with one of the last shots of the evening.  Fred was so excited to see his sister at the end of the 'ceremony', and he couldn't wait to just give Ethel a big hug.  And that's just what he did.

Wild Kindgom, bunny talk

So I was telling my neighbor tonight about the bunnies in our back yard.  Trying to explain and describe the little tuft of fur in the grass is easier said than visualized.  So she asked to see where they were, and we all headed in back to look.

No sooner had we come upon their den, they were not only moving, but poking out of the hole!!  Seriously!!  My neighbor said she could see that one of them had its eyes open, if only briefly.  I believe these little creatures are no more than a couple of weeks old. 

Enjoy.

Wild Kingdom, Part 3

See that?  See that fur in there?  Know what's in there?  BUNNIES!

Silly me, I assumed that baby bunny season was over.  I was wrong.  Last weekend we came across this quaint little patch of bunny fur nestled in the grass (and weeds) in the back yard.  I know there are babies in there, very fresh babies, because they spent much of the weekend moving around.  You can see the fur stir as they move in their little hole in the ground.  I check on them each morning before I leave for work, and after the kids go to bed.  The babies are hard to see through the fur, but, they are definitely tiny and new.  Daddy has seen Mama Bunny hopping around the yard, and he said he's sure it's her because she's got loose fur all about her body. 

We're quite hopeful for these little ones.  Should they actually survive and grow into rabbits, we will be that much closer to our petition to rezone and become a nature preserve.

Wish them (and us) luck. 

Thumbs......up?

Fred's Trigger Thumb

Monday was the consultation with the orthopaedic surgeon for Fred's crooked "fumb".  I need to remind myself that appointments during what is usually nap time are really not the best idea, but, that's beside the point.

I got to day care to find Fred on his cot, coughing and looking like death warmed over. Slight fever, hadn't fallen asleep (it was about 2:30), and was generally miserable. His teacher explained that he was wearing borrowed pants b/c he'd peed out his diaper and soaked his shorts, shoes, and socks. So, he was also barefoot. Guess I hadn't stocked his cubbie with extra clothes, gotta get on that.


Anyway, by the time we got to the orthopaedic office, he had a full-blown fever and was fairly hot to the touch. After waiting for a month to get this appointment, I wasn't canceling 15 minutes before the appointment, so we went in. Barefoot, and in borrowed pants. In 90 degree weather. If I'd seen us coming, I'd have thought to myself, "white trash coming through!", but, luckily there were very few people in the waiting room (which is also very large), and he charmed the one lady that was even remotely near us with his million questions (which doesn't charm me at all).

The doctor was awesome, her name is Dr. K. Great bedside manner with Fred. She explained the thumb thing, and the fix is just about as simple as the tubes were for his ears. Out patient, takes about 10 minutes for the actual procedure, and he goes home with a bandage around the hand. They use dissolvable stitches, we'll get some exercises to do after the bandage is off, and that's it. He'll only miss one week of swimming lessons.


Surgery is scheduled for the 6th of July. The "best" part is that the surgery is in the afternoon, and he can't eat after midnight! Craptastic!! I can't wait.


So, we got home from the appointment and he was truly miserable and passed out on the recliner. He slept all of a few hours total that night (thus, so did I), because he was coughing.all.night. If you didn't know better, you'd have thought this was a TB clinic the way he sounded. Ugh.


So, he and I were both "Happy Campers" on Tuesday.  Mommy had lots of coffee. What a fun morning.  Then, Pissy Patty woke up (a.k.a. Ethel). I had no idea Linda Blair entered our home and inhabited my tiny daughter, but, she was in rare form, with all but a spinning head. Wow.

I felt badly for Fred on Tuesday because he really wasn't feeling well and was coughing up a storm. Lack of sleep robs me of my empathy, though.  I couldn't wait for bedtime on Tuesday night.  Fred, luckily, was back to day care on Wednesday and has been doing much better.

104,000 and then some

That's how many miles my car has on it right now. My trusty Saturn, Sally Saturn, has just over 104,000 miles on her, and she's just now starting to show her age.

Sally is my fifth car, but the first which I've ever owned. And I bought her new. Right out of the showroom. My first car wasn't a Saturn, though. My first car was a 1982 Buick Century. I inherited her in 1992 or so, while I was in school. While her purchase and how I ended up with her are of questionable origins (that's for another therapy session), she was mine. I was pretty proud to have my own car, to be honest. I never expected a car, let alone one which I didn't have to sign away my first born to get. Still, I was excited to have my own set of wheels. Being away at school, and in a college town that didn't exactly accommodate the student without a car, it was a sweet deal. Unfortunately, she was in about as much disrepair as the roach infested house I was living in at the time.

See, Betty Buick turned out to be a bitch. Seriously. She was definitely not my father's Oldsmobile. If she had been, she might have run a little better. Let's start with the radio. No, I did not say sound system. There was no system to be found. It was a radio. AM/FM, no cassette, just a radio. That's cool, I wasn't looking for anything Singles style, just something to crank some tunes. Problem was that you couldn't hear the radio over the engine. So, with the car on, you had to turn the volume button up all the way, and even then, you could barely hear the radio. Hm. Off to Radio Shack I went to get an amp for the car, along with a cassette player. Got those puppies installed, and I was rockin'. Sort of. It was on my first trip with her to school in Bowling Green, KY, that I realized she had a rather tough time with hills. Uphill, to be exact, was her biggest challenge. Hm. Poor Betty. This was a bit of an issue, since the area of Kentucky I was in was rather hilly (mountainous, to me, coming from the flatlands). What got us through was the fact that most of the time, I was able to take her downhill and get some speed before heading uphill, and I learned quickly how to draft on the interstate (thank you, long haulers!). I wasn't breaking speed records, but she got me back and forth a few times.


Slowly, throughout that school year, she began to deteriorate. Before I knew it, her electrical was all but hosed, I was best friends with my check engine light, an auto shop bent the hinges on the hood so it popped when I went over curbs, and I had lower deck air conditioning (holes in the floor boards and bottom of the doors). The latter was cool until it rained or got cold outside. But, I could still hear the radio. And the radio doubled as a great disguise for all the fun noises that Betty could make when she was angry. Which was pretty often.

Eventually, the turn signal stalk would honk the horn, the headlights dimmed when the radio was turned on, and the air conditioning dragged the thing down so much it wasn't worth using at all. Finally, one morning, I'd gotten so tired of the problems with Betty that I left her in the road and walked home. I called my father and let him know where Betty was, and also called the police to let them know, and started to save my money to get my own set of wheels. Before you judge me for being spoiled by having been provided with transportation, I remind of my earlier statement, "her purchase and how I ended up with her are of questionable origins". But I took her. And I loved her. For a while. Until I left her in the road.

We got her running enough that I could manage to get to work and back for a few weeks, and then one day the light shone brightly upon me. Before I knew it, Betty had gone to that wholesale heaven of parts, and my next set of wheels was bequeathed to me.

A titanium coloured 1983 Mercury Grand Marquis LS was now mine. V8 power, cruise control, air conditioning, velour seats and "wood grain" interior, AM/FM *with cassette* and factory booster/amp, power windows and seats, baby I was ridin' in style. For an AARP member. But, dude, she ran. My parents had traded Betty in exchange for a newer vehicle for my mom, and I inherited her old ride. Wow.

Now, Grandma Marquis was pretty cool. Despite rear wheel drive, she rode like a dream. She had a squeaky window, bad EGR valves (thank you, Ford), and was the size of an M1 Abrams, but she'd already given us miles and miles of good service. She was the best choice for my senior year in college.

Grandma Marquis and I made multiple trips to and from school. At and above the speed limit, nonetheless. Who'd have thunk I could shave two hours off my commute time? And the radio. Oh, the radio. I would even have called it a sound system. With front and rear (and on the doors!) speakers, the factory booster, and a power antenna, I thought I'd died and gone to heaven! I could listen to my tapes in the car, and even listen to music at night and still use my headlights. Awesomeness. You have no idea.

I did the best I could with Grandma. Her bad valves made for some interesting times on the interstate, at stop signs, while stopped, and lots of other times, but, it just made me a more interesting driver. Poor girl gave it her all. I even saw her 100K milestone. She served me well.

That spring I was looking forward to graduating and heading home. We all know that spring brings rain, and the spring of 1994 was pretty rainy. That's when I started having dizzy spells, headaches, and other anomalies. I got her home, and eventually realized that something in the car was giving me these symptoms. My uncle's keen snout identified freon as the offender. We then found the puddle on the passenger side floor. It made sense, because I'd just started driving with the windows down or cracked, and it eased the symptoms. Still, it wasn't wise to drive this thing much longer. So, the search began.

My mom and I scoured the ads in the paper, watched for local dealership ads on TV, and finally went out to shop. I really wasn't looking forward to used car dealers and the dollar signs they thought they'd see when my mom and I walked in the door. Armed with attitudes, decent knowledge of cars, and solid knowledge of what I could afford, my mom and I entered the first dealership. Let's just say that I wanted to go home after the first test drive. A red, used, two-door used Taurus, with an overweight, very sales-minded sales guy who wanted to "throw in" the trunk-mounted CD player, {insert shudder here}....need I say more?

No way.

We left. We headed down the road. Despite my initial resistance, we decided to go to the local Saturn dealer. They were being marketed as a different kind of dealer, and had the (then) new concept of no-haggle pricing. What a difference. It was like a breath of fresh air, for sure. We walked in and weren't swarmed by over-scented losers. We weren't picked at by vultures. We were greeted by the girl behind the front desk, and allowed to actually look at the cars. That's when we met Tony. Oh Tony.

Tony used to sell Oldsmobiles, you see, and had come to Saturn to wear casual attire and sell cars that basically sold themselves. I learned a lot more than that about Tony that day, but, I won't bore you with stories about his cats. Suffice it to say that Tony made me feel at ease, and he honestly helped me find the car that was right for me. After combing the lot, running numbers, and reviewing the status of Grandma, Tony helped me find my car. My first, very own, all mine, car.

Susie Saturn became mine in July of 2004. I made the promise to keep her for three years, less than 45,000 miles, and to take really good care of her. She was a beautiful medium red, 5-speed, fully loaded four-door. She had zip. She had pep. She had a sun roof. She had less than ten miles on her. Wow. It doesn't happen only in fairy tales or TV ads, I really got my picture taken with her in the delivery bay after the sales staff all sang to me. Yes, they did that. For me. And I got flowers. Wow!!

We had some really good times together. Really good times. About two and a half years into our time together, after a night out with friends, I dragged myself out of bed for my scheduled oil change. I was pretty foggy, at best, but, it was a beautiful, sunny day and I knew the fresh air would do me some good.

The new car showroom is a cruel, unjust place, though. That smell. The new paint. The options. The donuts and coffee. Wait, I digress.

While Susie was in getting her work up, I was in the showroom cheating on her. I sat in several cars, dreamed, and wiped the drool from my chin. New.car.me.please. Tony was busy with a customer, so he asked his fellow Saturn-seller, Steve (the name has been changed because I just drew a blank), to assist me. Steve let me test drive a few models, including their updated two-door coupe. I returned to the showroom and Steve knew that I was in. He knew I wasn't going home with Susie. Poor Susie.

At the end of the day, I drove off the lot in my new, red, two-door, five-speed coupe, Sarah. Thanks, Steve.

I had wanted a red car for years, and I finally had one. And she had a sun roof. She was awesome. She, too, had zip and pep, she had a cassette player, and I promised to keep her for three years, less than 45,000 miles, and keep her in good shape. And I did.

She survived a blizzard, a few Derbys, a trip to Florida, and red lined like a champ. Oh, she was cool. Sure, I'd been spoiled by Grandma's V8, but, honestly, the pep in these little cars was rather impressive, and I think I'd have ended up wrapped around a tree, the way I drive, in anything with much more power. She was awesome.

Another two and a half years later, in February of 2000, Sarah was scheduled for another oil change. Again, I dragged myself out of bed after a night out with friends, and the cold February air tried to snap me back into shape. It mildly succeeded. After a cup of hot coffee in the showroom, that new car smell got me up off my seat and into the front seat of one of the floor models. Tony asked how much longer I had with Sarah, and said it wouldn't be a bad idea to see what I might want when our three years was up. Tony handed me the keys to a brand new, medium red, four door sedan, and told me to take her out for a drive. Holy cow. Cruise, V6, air, power windows, sunroof, air bags, cassette, and a CD player. CD player? Holy crap, you mean I could have a CD player in my car?!?

I hemmed and hawed. For about three minutes. I took the bait. I told Tony I was ready for a longer commitment this time. I told him I was going to drive my next vehicle into the ground, so I needed something that I, and eventually a family, could grown into. I had just driven her.

Sally Saturn became mine in February of 2000. She was all mine (and the bank's). My very first ever all-mine car. I was a homeowner by this point, so it seemed a natural step to commit like this. Heck, I was in for 30 years on my condo, why not a few years for a car, right?

Sally and I have been through a lot. Multiple Derbys, a husband, several cats, two kids, trips to Florida, Michigan, and Wisconsin. She's been wonderful.

I just rolled her over 104,000 miles. Tonight she gave me flashbacks to Betty. I dropped a few dollars on her in the fall, and she was worth it. She turned 100K on Christmas night. She is no Betty, but, there are beginning to be similiarities.

I remember riding in the car with my grandfather, practically swallowed by the bench seat in his Lincoln, listening to that clicky turn signal sound. You know what I'm talking about, don't pretend. There's something about the sound of the turn signal in your grandparent's car that is unlike the sound of the signal in cars the younger set drives. Sally decided to mimic that sound tonight. And she decided to exemplify the sound when the turn signal wasn't actually on. That's right, after coming back to zero with the wheel, Sally continued to click, click, click, click, click, click........

Turning up the radio only did so much to mask the fact that something is starting to go awry. From deep beneath the dash, there's something amiss, and it will most certainly drive me more insane than I already am in no.time.flat.

Still, despite the loud brakes, constantly-on coolant light, blown speakers, and just-started-flickering seat belt light, she's got plenty of life in her. At least I hope she does. No, I know she does. She's all mine, and I don't know what I'd do without her.

Just another reason to turn the music up and enjoy the ride.

Happy Saturday!

Today was the first day of swimming lessons for both the kids.  Well, it was supposed to be.  We got rained out.  Just as everyone was getting in the pool, the skies opened up and everyone was soaked.  Instantly.  With lightning and thunder, we all took cover and they officially called today's lessons off.  The kids were a bit bummed, but, the lifeguards still took time with the kids and went over the basic rules of the pool and talked about all the fun stuff they'd be learning this summer.  Fred wanted nothing to do with getting in the pool, so it was probably for the better that it got rained out.

When I pulled out the pool bag, Ethel dove right in to find her suit.  She found a few other things in the bag, too.

And so I leave you with this lovely image.

Morning Monkey

Makeshift "track" for the cars

Fred has started a pattern of early waking.  This does not sit well with Mommy, who really needs sleep to be an effective (read: nice, happy, good-mom-type) human during the day.  It's taken a few months, but, Fred has finally gotten the hang of waking and staying in his room without waking the birds.  Seriously, he was doing 4:30AM for a while, before the birds even!

So every once in a while I find him playing in his room for a while when he wakes up, and fortunately for all of us, sometimes I don't hear him right away.  He can turn on his light and get out trains and cars and books, and it keeps him busy for a long time.  This morning was no different.  I didn't hear him 'til after 6:30 this morning, which is like a world record.  I even had the chance to run out and get a coffee before he started to stir!  I felt like I'd slept all day by the time I heard him playing with his cars in his room.

And this is what I found.  My monkey in the morning.

It's wonderful when he doesn't want to get dressed and come down for breakfast so he can keep playing.

Morning Monkey

Wild Kindgom, Part 2

Well, we started out finding bunnies and that was pretty exciting.

Our next encounter with the local wildlife wasn't really so warm and fuzzy.

The bunnies were our weekend fun, but one week night that followed brought an encounter with wildlife of a different kind. The flying rodent kind. Yes, I'm referring to a bat. Yes, you read that right. A bat. As I sat on the front porch talking with a neighbor, while our kids played in the back yard, I heard what I thought was a bird. I turned my head, not expecting to not see a bird, and certainly not to see what I did see!

I would not have believed it if I hadn't seen it myself. Where the hell did this thing come from?

OK, so May continued to be quite an exciting month as far as local wildlife finding our home. Fast forward to the morning of May 27th. Fred and I came downstairs to eat breakfast and noticed a Mommy Duck laying in the front lawn. Cool, we have ducks around here, this didn't surprise me at all. By the time we were done with our breakfast, Mommy Duck had gotten up and walked toward the house. Before I knew it, she was laying in the corner right under the dining room window (oddly, right beneath where the bat had perched just a week before - insert shudder here....). I figured she was casing the joint trying to figure where to lay her eggs. OK, that's cool. Wait, she's standing up. Must be getting settled. Wait, what's that? Holy crap, that an EGG!!
Daddy had just laid mulch in this area under the window like three days before, so this is a very fresh egg!! Perhaps she just laid it, perhaps she'd laid it the night before, who knows. Doesn't matter now, the egg is laid. COOL!

Before heading out to day care, the kids and I wanted to go out and and see Mommy Duck, and I snapped a picture.

She's very well blended in there with the mulch, an ingenious disguise. She kind of had that "Back off, humans, don't mess with this!" look on her face, so the kids agreed that it's best to leave Mommy Duck and not get too close.

We saw her and Daddy Duck the following morning, and have seen them one or two times since. I understand that ducks generally wander around, rather than sit on the nest the whole time. I think she's been back each morning very early, before making her rounds doing whatever she and Daddy Duck do all day.

So, maybe it's time for us to petition the Village and rezone our property. Think we should become a wildlife preserve? You make the call.

We'll update the duck situation in another two to three weeks, when the egg(s) should be hatching. I'm really hoping Mommy and Daddy welcome a baby or more, that would be really cool to see!

Wild Kindgom, Part 1

I don't know how we're going to top our May.  May was a great month for us, between warmer temps, getting the yard in order, Daddy's birthday, and Mother's Day, one might think things couldn't get any better.  Ah, Ethel and Fred will tell you - it could.

I spent a good bit of time this spring focusing on spring cleaning inside, while really wanting to get at the outside.  Each time I peered out the windows, or spent time outside with the kids, I cringed at the growing weeds, the rotted wood pile, and the myriad of other things I could tell needed attention.  As it happened, we ended up with an entire free weekend the weekend of the 15th and 16th of May.  Literally no plans outside the house.  Glorious.  Seriously.

I started about 8AM Saturday morning.  Got up with the kids, ate some breakfast, and herded the three of us outside to begin the day's projects.  First on the list, the back yard.  When most people set out to do yard work, they aim to rid garden areas of weeds, plant fresh flowers, cut the grass, etc.  When I set out to do yard work, it generally involves digging out yards of weeds, cutting down sprouting trees, and trying to expose some bit of space that could someday act as a home to vegetables, fruits, and/or flowers.  A girl can dream, right?

So, this lovely (yet slightly chilly) Saturday morning I set out in the back yard and started digging.  While I dug, the kids played in the back yard, playing with the toys and little house which I'd just brought out from their long winter slumber against the fence.  They were so excited to see the house, bikes, and other outside toys for the first time in months.

As I dug, the kids wandered the patio, and suddenly I heard, "Mommy, there's bunnies in that hole!".  Uh huh, sure, kids.  Then they repeated (in unison), "Mommy, in this hole, there's bunnies!".  So, I stopped and turned to see what hole they were referring to, assuming it was out in the grass.  Nope.  They were solidly staring into the window well.  Heads down, smiles on their faces, and fingers stiffly pointed in the window well, I strolled over to see what they were looking at.

Bunnies.  They were right.  Two, tiny bunnies, curled up together in the leaves piled at the bottom of the well.  Swell.  The kids were jumping up and down, Ethel asking a gazillion questions, and Fred gently saying, "Aw, they're so cute!". 

The kids agreed that we'd let the bunnies be for a while, and later in the morning we'd get them out.  I set out to thin out some ground cover when suddenly I heard a rustle, rustle, THUD!  Craptastic.  A quick glance into the other window well revealed that yes, that was a third bunny I'd scared out of the ground cover, and he'd jumped into the other well.  Swell.

With the third bunny scared out of his mind, jumping and doing all that he could to try to escape, I knew it was time to get the bunnies out of the wells.  It happened that we had a dog crate, left by a friend after we'd watched her dogs.  I carefully retrieved the three bunnies with my work gloves on, and placed them gently in the crate, so we could watch and make sure none were hurt.  Not knowing where their den was, we weren't sure where to release them.  So, we let them rest in the crate until we could be sure they were OK.  We went in and had lunch, and when we returned outside, two had escaped.  One left. 
As it turned out, that last bunny didn't really seem to want to take off.  He never went far, and I finally collected him from the lawn so the neighbor could cut the grass without risking getting the little guy.  He was so cute.  He let me hold him, pet him, and didn't so much as squirm.  My inner child was screaming, "Can we keep him??", but the Mommy in me was saying, "What the heck are we going to do with this thing??".

Long story short, we kept him overnight.  I told the kids that we'd keep him overnight, and if he was OK in the morning, we'd talk about what to do with him.  Well, he survived quite well in the shoe box that I suited up for him.  In a bed of grass with mixed greens, he spent the night in Ethel's room.  She surrounded the shoe box with all her stuffed rabbits and bunnies, then read it some books.  About rabbits and bunnies.  Excited doesn't begin to cover how she was feeling about having this bunny in her room.

The next morning, we opened the box to find lots of little bunny poops, the greens having been eaten, and a little bunny quite contented in his little bed of grass in the shoe box.  We tossed a few more greens in there for him, and Ethel prepared a dish of water, too.  She was very mothering, and continued to worry that he might be missing his Mommy and Daddy.  It was really sweet.  Fred, he just kept repeating, "Aw, he's so cute", in that cute little voice with that still-a-toddler-lisp. 

When I set out Sunday morning, Ethel first had to put all her stuffed rabbits and bunnies on the chair in the dining room, facing the front of the house.  She moved the chair, placed the animals, and told me she put them there so they could watch us outside, and so they could see when the bunny left the box and found his parents. 

I opened the shoe box and laid it on the lawn beside where I was working.  Little bunny just sat, chewing on the greens I'd just laid in the box.  He just sat there.  It was a good hour before he left the box.  And even then, he only stayed in the area between the houses, near where I was working.  Oh, he was so cute.  I was really wrestling with snatching him up to keep him, I really was. 
In the end, bunny hopped away.  I saw him the next morning before I left for work, resting in the small rose bush along the neighbor's house.  As the rain began to gently fall that morning, he quickly hopped away to find better shelter.  Ethel was really pleased with the outcome, surprisingly, as I'd figured she'd be a basket case once we told her we were letting him go.  She was more concerned that he missed his parents, and was happy to know that he'd hopped off to find them.  When we didn't find him that Monday evening, she was quite satisfied to know that he was out in the wild, where he belonged.

Today's edition of...

...Out Cold Where?

On the love seat in the living room.

They're so peaceful when they sleep.

Out Cold Where?

When Ethel turned 4, I had been wrestling with keeping her in her bed during nap times.  She'd gradually stopped napping, and by her 4th birthday it had become more of a battle than a quiet time.  I still remember sitting her her room with her when I told her that she no longer had to stay in her bed during quiet time, that she could play quietly in her room instead - as long as she stayed in her room.  I still remember the excitement in her face as I told her.  It was a milestone, of sorts, for both of us.

Since that day, she's been really good about playing in her room and keeping it quiet (for the most part).  Every so often she'll even fall asleep during quiet time.  She's got a wild imagination that can keep her occupied for hours on end.  Sometimes, though, that imagination tires her out and even she gives in, passing out wherever she happens to be.  I find her in some pretty interesting and surprising places.  Under a box.  In a box.  Under the couch pillows.  Behind the pillows on the couch.  In her room.  In another room.

I think I'm going to make this a regular "spot" on this blog, and title it "Out Cold Where?".

Today's isn't quite as quirky as past nap spots, but, she created quite the layout for today's nap spot.  Sleeping on a handmade blanket, she's got lots of her things around her.  I can only imagine what kinds of adventures her stuffed animals and the dinosaur on top of the box were having before she passed out cold.

A tradition unlike any other

It's about time I get my act in gear and share my Oaks/Derby weekend with more than just my inner mind.  I find myself getting so caught up in the act of life, and time just slips by.  So here we go.

I'd started a long post about my first Derby and what got me there, and then a little about my trip down there this year, but, you know what?  That really doesn't matter.  Here are a few facts, though, which explain a little more about my annual trek to Louisville.

I attended college in the Commonwealth of Kentucky at Western Kentucky University.
My first Derby was in 1995.
I attended other Festival events throughout my college years, including Thunder Over Louisville.
I have been to Louisville for Derby weekend 13 times.
I stay with girl friends from college.

I have been to the Oaks at least 6 times, but I'm not keeping track.
I don't usually bet on the horses.
I did not see a horse at the Downs for the first 6 years I attended.
I have LOTS of Derby glasses.
Wait, there are horses there?

Derby is one huge party.  OK, I admit that it's all about a horse race, but if you asked most people who go to the Derby, I think you'd be hard pressed to find any who truly go for the horses.

This year was the first year we didn't go to the infield.  The infield is where the real party is at Churchill Downs.  All I can say is I've never seen anything like it.  You've never been to a party like this.  Here's what you can expect in the infield on Derby Day, and even at Oaks.

Mint Juleps
Beer
Awesome frozen drinks
Mud
Bare feet
Bare other parts
National Guard
Young cadets
Lots of uniformed men and women
Things flying in the air
Beads
More beer
Lots and lots of drunk people

That doesn't even begin to scratch the surface of the feeling you get in the infield when you find yourself amidst thousands of people.  I like crowds, though, so if that's not your cup of tea, you can skip this one on your bucket list.  I have to say, too, that whether you're there on Oaks day or Derby day, you're going to have yourself one hell of a time. 

Anyway, this year we didn't go to the infield, we got tickets for seats instead on Oaks day.  Ah, no, we didn't pay for them, they were given to us by a coworker of one of my girlfriends.  He generously purchased bleacher seat tickets for myself and three girlfriends, and we could not have been more excited.  We would need to dress up, something we'd never done before for Oaks or Derby!  Wow!!

Seriously, the most dressed up I've ever gotten for Oaks or Derby was if I bought a new shirt or shorts because what I had didn't fit.  Derby weekend is usually the first time I have the opportunity to break out warm weather clothing, so often I've found myself needing warm weather appropriate clothing that fits!

Not having a lot of money to spend, I ended up finding a dress and a pair of heels at a really great resale shop near my house.  A week or so later, I stumbled upon a hat at Marshall's for less than the dress.  SCORE!! The dress - blue seersucker, the fabric of Derby.  The shoes - pale pink.  Oaks day is Ladies First, it's all about the gals that day.  Everyone is asked to wear pink that day in honor of the fight against breast cancer.  The shoes touched on that theme, and I knew I'd adorn the hat with some pink, as well.

My friend, D, and I agreed that we'd work on my hat once I got to Louisville, because, let's be honest, the selection of flowers at the craft stores up here is slim to none compared to Louisville (or anywhere south of here), where just about every woman in town will be wearing a hat Derby weekend.

In the end, I created a simple hat with lilies, the flower of the Oaks.  Lilies for the Fillies.  Very fitting.  I was rather pleased with my ensemble.  Simple, just the way I like it.  I'm not a real dress kind of girl, so basic is really my style.

My drive to Louisville was nice and it was a great day for a drive.  Sun, not too hot, and I got out of the city in almost record time.  Then there was the construction on 65 north of Indy.  30 minutes stopped, in park, almost lost in a sea of trucks.  Once we got moving again, though, it was smooth sailing all the way thru Indy and on to my friend, C's, house.  I've met C in person now twice, but this visit was my first time meeting her husband and children, whom I've only heard of over the years that C and I have been friends online, along with many other moms of kids born in the fall of 2004.  I was tickled to be invited to have dinner at C's house, and it was the perfect break in my trip.  After several hours of playing with the kids and talking to C and her husband, I got back on the road headed for my friend Danert's place in Louisville.

It was an amazing feeling to sleep through the night, and then to wake on my own.  I had no deadline, no place to be, nobody needing anything from me.  Glorious.  I almost felt lost for a second, then I snapped out of it and soaked it up.  I cleaned up just in time for Danert's early arrival home after a short day at the office.  We eventually headed out to gather items to glue to my hat, followed by some dinner, followed by conversation and drinks, and a very late (for me) bed time.

Friday.  Oaks.  Exciting.  I wasn't exactly sure if we had a plan, but, since I wasn't driving it didn't matter much to me.  Danert and I got ready while we waited for Binkie and A to come by.  A was the driver of this lovely crew, and we headed out to Churchill Downs all dressed up, four hot ladies on a gorgeous Friday morning.

Once we selected a place to park, not too far but not too close to the Downs, we secured our hats with hat pins to try to combat the predicted 40 mph winds, and began our walk to the track.  We didn't get very far before a young man in a six-seater golf cart pulled up along side us offering us a ride!  BINGO!  We accepted the offer and he delivered us just steps from the gate at Churchill Downs.  It was the best trek from car to track I've ever had.  Seriously.  Especially since this time I was in heels.

The day was beautiful and sunny and windy and relaxing.  Danert and I immediately befriended the young gentleman selling Lilies, the drink of Oaks day.  As he described it, it's similar to a Cosmopolitan.  I needed no sales pitch to convince me to have one, or five, or ten Lilies.  Seriously, this stuff went down like water.  It was warm, sunny, and very windy.  Did I mention it was windy?  Ya, it took four large hat pins to keep my darn hat on!!

The day was wonderful, and we were so thankful for the opportunity to finally sit on the other side of the track.  After 13 Oaks and Derbys in the infield, it was fun to actually dress up and see how "the other half lives", so to speak.  We took a couple walks into the paddock area to visit with friends and some of Danert's family, and to take in a change of scenery.  Other than that, we enjoyed our time in our bleacher seats and the sun that shone all day long.  It was truly a gorgeous day.  And, wow, did the drinks go down easy.

By the time we left, after the Oaks was run, we were ready for more.  The sun was still up, we were happy, and we thought we had plenty left in us.

We didn't.

We got back to Danert's and that was pretty much the end of the line for us.  Rather than go paint the town red, we held the soft, comfy chairs and couches down at Danert's, and her beau and I ordered late night wings from Buffalo Wild Wings.  Nothing like hot wings at 10:30 at night, right?

Saturday, Derby Day, was not as nice a day.  This was the weekend of the fabled floods in Nashville and parts of the south east.  It was serious rain.  This was the weekend I realized that I'm probably growing up.  It hurts to even write that.  It really does.  We dressed up and acted like adults for Oaks, and I opted not to go into the Downs on Derby Day in the rain.

Seriously, it wasn't long ago that I would have LOVED to go into the infield in the rain.  Dude, you've never seen mudslides and general debauchery like what you witness in the infield, rain or shine, but mostly in the rain.  Trust me, you never have.  It's the true definition of "I hope nobody has a camera around here".

This year, I chose the dry, warm environment of Binkie's parents house.  I chose time with good friends that I usually only see once a year, who mean a lot to me and saw me through the good and bad in college.  I chose cheaper drinks, better odds betting with a small group, and the view of the Derby on the wide screen HDTV.  Yes, I did.

In the end, I was about $12 lighter when I walked out the door, but, I was armed with new dance moves (thank you, on demand!) and a tummy full of good food and lots of Bloody Marys.  Yum.

If Oaks and/or Derby is/are on your bucket list, bump it up to the top.  It's an experience you'll never forget.  And one you'll never regret.  I promise.

That's all for now.

"I love my girl"

I always tell my kids I love them when I tuck them into bed. 

I tell Ethel, "I love my baby girl". 

I tell Fred, "I love my baby boy", or "I love my guy". 

Tonight, Fred replied, in a whisper in that cute, soft little toddler-with-a-lisp voice, with:

"I love my girl"

Things you often don't notice

Each day, my kids point things out to me which are totally obvious.  At times, this can get really annoying. 

Mommy, there's a puddle!
They both stop as we're out walking to point out the big airplane in the sky, taking minutes to view it and repeatedly tell me it's there.
A DOG!!  A DOG!!  MOMMY, A DOG!!

Yes, guys, I see.  Lather, rinse, repeat.

This morning, the wonder of the day was the light fog that covered the area.  Seriously, most days I would have just been annoyed that it was foggy and not sunny, or that people had left their "I know how to drive" hats at home due to the light rain and mist in the air.  But this morning was different.

The kids were calm as they looked out their windows on the drive to day care.  They quietly, without yelling over each other, told me where they saw the fog, and what they could barely see in the distance. 

The bright lights on the school bus. 
The stop light. 
The stop sign.
That bird.

This morning it was as if the little things outside were amplified.  The fog seemed to bring forward little things we don't normally notice. 

A bird on the street.  A squirrel in a tree.  A kid waiting for the bus.  A car in the distance.  A pretty flower in someone's yard.

In return, I focused on the kids, their voices, the excitement.  The excitement of the fog. 

It had been quite a long time since I'd contemplated fog, but this morning it was almost mystical.  Through the eyes of the kids, I was able to see things I don't normally notice.  And the fog was almost fun.

Mornings like this help me live more in the moment and remember what's really important, and what's not.  It made the rest of my commute to work way less annoying, as I remembered each little giggle, wow, and whoa from our ride to day care.  The smiles, the bright eyes, and the newness of everything.

Seeing everything through the eyes of the kids gives everything a fresh perspective, and makes my day go a little smoother. 

I'm not hiding, I promise!

After a fabulous weekend in Louisville, I am now back to life as wife and mom back at home.  Trying to catch up on all things work and home for the past couple days has taken quite a bit of my time.  I'm hoping to summarize my weekend soon, so stay tuned. 

That's all for now!

In Louisville, it's Derby time!

For the first time ever, I'll enter Churchill Downs dressed in more than shorts and a t-shirt.  We actually have bleacher seats this year and are dressing up.  This is a picture of the hat I crafted yesterday for the event. 

We're going today to the Kentucky Oaks.  It's lilies for the fillies today, and the day has been named Ladies First.  To raise awareness for breast cancer research, everyone is asked to wear pink today, and so I chose pale pink heels, and pink lilies for my hat.

Pictures of the final ensemble will follow later, but, I needed to put up this pic of the hat to start things off. 

Derby weekend is unlike any other time in any other place.  Louisville is full of electricity, history, and magic this weekend every year.  Derby should be on everyone's bucket list, for sure.

Stay tuned for more pictures and stories.

That's all for now.

Confessions

I love Food Network.
I didn't get much sleep last night.
I'm relaxing and don't really feel too guilty about it.
I am leaving one week from today for Louisville.
I don't yet have a hat for the Oaks.
Lack of sleep caused me to be annoyed more by my kids than anything else today.
I feel badly about that.
I am drinking a beer.
I prefer wine.
I had too much to drink last Friday night.
I loved it.
I paid for it.
I need to drink more water.
I hope to get a shower tomorrow.
I am sick of Blago.
I have spring fever.
I need work clothes.
I could use the money to get them.
I want pets again.
I am dog sitting.
I drank a lot of coffee today.
My kids are beautiful.
I'm comfy.
I'm tired.
Tomorrow is Earth Day.
I have nothing planned.
Does having the kids pick weeds, I mean dandelions, count as an Earth Day activity?
I have a lot to do this weekend.
I need to go to bed.

That's all for now.

Me time, week 13

I'm getting lazy in reporting on my time spent on myself, aren't I?  Perhaps that's a sign that I'm healing from the inside and enjoying what life has brought my way.  OK, that was a deep stretch, but, I tried to make it sound good.

I'm trying to catch up on DVR'd shows (I actually typed the word "taped", but realized there's nothing taped about it any more), and realized I needed to post up.  I have to say that I don't understand why Kate is still on this show pretending to dance.  This chick needs to take her hair extensions and get a new reality job somewhere.  Ugh, she drives me crazy.

I digress.

Had a very nice Sunday, which was preceded by a fun, but, unproductive weekend.  Began Friday night by going out.  We have worked out a deal with another couple to swap babysitting with each other.  The key is that we don't pay each other!  Seriously, every parent should get in on a gig like this.  By switching off and helping each other out, we're each getting more time out than we would otherwise if we had to pay a sitter.  I am so insanely glad we are doing this!!

This was supposed to be an arrangement we'd take each other up on once every month of the year, and this was the first time either of us asked the other to watch our kids.  I broke the ice last week when we got invited to a friend's place.  Honestly, this is the best arrangement we could have made, and I'm sorry I waited 'til April to ask them to help!  They came over after work (Mommy L, Daddy L, L1, and L2) and we all played and talked together, while I showed Mommy L around the house and ran down the bed time routine.  Daddy and I left the house as Daddy L started the kids off on a game of Hide n Seek.  It was a great feeling knowing the kids were having a good time and a friend, mom, and familiar face was staying with the kids.  Daddy L took L1 and L2 home at bed time, and it was the perfect arrangement for all of us.

Until Saturday morning.  While it was nice to get out of the house for a while and not worry about dollar signs piling up at the stroke of every hour, there was no legit reason for us to stay out until 1AM!!!!  Holy hell!  The evening started out nicely with several coworkers, who also happen to be on the same intercompany softball team, all gathered together to enjoy good food, drink, and company.  The wine glasses were big, the appetizers were delicious, and we were all laughing together within minutes.  Did I mention that the wine glasses were big?  They were.  As one of the others said, the only quote from the night that I remember is, "I'd like another glass of wine".  Oh my. 

We started out with some game called Left, Right, Center, and moved on to Catch Phrase.  Well, not back to back, there was plenty of conversation, appetizer eating, and who knows what in between.  I say "who knows what" because I'm sure someone knows, but I am not that someone.  See, the wine glasses were really big.  Oh, I said that already.  Well, I filled mine at least three times.  I'll leave it at that.  There was a moment when one of us ended up being tossed over the back of a couch, WWE style, there were plenty of f-bombs dropping around the room, and the hockey game interrupted us every so often.  Not that I know any of that for fact.  And we didn't leave until 1AM.  1AM, I kid you not.

It was as if we didn't remember we had kids who would be waking before the birds demanding food and other nourishment and to be entertained.  Loudly.  Energetically.  Early.  Very early.  Like 6AM early.  Good Lord.

Let's just say that I did not get much done on Saturday.  I could barely get down a cup of coffee.  There, I said it.  It's been a very long time since I was unable to get down my morning jo.  Holy hell. 

It was almost noon before I could even consider getting anything done.  Saturday was supposed to be the day I shopped for a dress to wear to the Kentucky Oaks.  Yes, I am going.  Again. 

I went to college in Kentucky and met some of the most wonderful people there.  I have been going to the Kentucky Derby almost every year (missed 3) since 1995.  This is the first year that we will be sitting somewhere other than in the infield.  Seriously.  This is all foreign to us. 

I did end up getting myself into the car and took my neighbor with me to a local resale shop in hopes of finding a dress that wouldn't break the budget.  The planets were all aligned, because not only did I find a dress, I found the perfect dress!!  I can't show you until the whole thing is put together, but here are some clues.
1) Pale pink
2) Seersucker
3) I don't have a clue #3, sorry.

The last piece to the puzzle will be a hat, and I have a little time to get that done.  I did find a great hat at a store today, but, and toying with the idea of crafting one of my own.  Nothing like a homemade Derby hat!! 

I had been invited to go out with friends Saturday night for a night of karoke.  I was really looking forward to it originally.  After staying out 'til 1AM, feeling like I might lose lunch all day, and being so tired I could hardly form a sentence, there was little chance I was going to make it.  And I didn't. 

At dinner, Daddy dropped the big reminder on me that the next day, Sunday, was his company's day at Great America (GA), our local Six Flags.  Oh my.  Dude, I'm hungover, exhausted, and you want me to spend the day in an amusement park filled with roller coasters?!  Right.  Oh, and you want to take the kids!?  Sure.

With this in mind, I finally decided to stay in for the night and miss karoke.  I can do that next time they all get together.  I needed one thing, sleep!  So I grilled ribs for dinner, got the kids in bed, then got myself in bed.

I didn't start my Sunday at Panera this week.  No worries, I spent the day with my family.  Walking.  A lot.  We started out by taking the kids to a nice, rare, breakfast out.  They were so excited to get to eat at IHOP, you would have thought they'd won the Lottery.  Following breakfast, we spent the day at GA.  The weather was alright, just kind of windy and chilly, but better than last year when it was pouring rain all day.  I'll take a little chilly over rain any day.

I would not pay to go to GA, especially not with little kids.  Pricey, crowded, and just not fun with little whiny munchkins.  This day, though, was thanks to Daddy's work, and well worth our time and effort.  They have added a Wiggles themed area complete with a small stage show featuring a couple of characters from the popular show.  This turned out to be the most popular part with both Fred and Ethel, and I'm so glad for that.  We were able to spend most of the day in the Wiggles area, aside from our trek to the picnic area for lunch, and the kids had a total blast.  Fred was afraid of the Big Red Plane ride at first, but once he got the guts, he announced to me, "I'm not scared, Mommy".  He flew that plane like a pro.  Ethel had a great time riding in The Big Red Car with Daddy behind me and Fred, and we all had fun on the carousel before we left the park.

As expected, they slept in the car on the way home, and that was the extent of naps for the day.  We got home an they each spent a little time in their rooms playing on their own before we had some dinner, followed by bath time.  Bed time Sunday night was early, and everyone (well, the kids) was asleep by 7:30 PM.  It was really nice.

It was nice to have a day free of spring cleaning, food shopping, and other things that have taken up our last few weekends.  My liver is not the only part of my body crying u.n.c.l.e, though, as now my feet and one arthritic knee are waving the white flag.  It won't be long before my body turns French and goes on strike.

Now it's late and I need to get to bed.  I'm sure none of this has made sense, as I think I killed plenty of brain cells off during the weekend.  Hopefully they'll return.

I will post an update once I figure out my hat situation for the Oaks.  I am really excited to be going back, seeing my friends, and actually sitting in the bleachers.  OK, they're not grandstand seats, but, man, this is going to be a total blast.  I'll see a whole new part of Churchill Downs after all these years.  Very cool.

I'd better get myself to bed.

That's all for now.