Excessive Nature

I just drove 3 hours roundtrip to buy ... placemats. Round. Blue. Ruffled. Adorable. Perfect shade. Excellent price.

Shipping was not an option. Even after begging. Pleading. Even after six phone calls to six different sales' associates. Claiming pregnancy, with TWINS, on 90% bedrest. NOT an OPTION.

Regular price would have cost me $80. Yes, that's right. Yikes. How would I explain that charge?

So, I found them on sale. $15. And some change. Total cost for ten.

Gas, miles driven, gallons depleted, vehicle wear and tear... haven't figured those numbers out yet. Probably won't. Probably doesn't even add up to the $65 I saved. Probably still saved. Besides, who cares? And, the bottom line is: I have my beautiful placemats.

I gushed with enthusiasm at my find. The sales' associate remained politely aloof, yet, she wondered ALOUD when my TWINS were due!? [Oops, I would have to get that sales' associate!]

Well, I am currently using my 10% non-bedrest time to buy THESE placemats. The TWINS are due in four weeks (week 36) because the Doctor will induce. AND, I am not showing much since I haven't gained any weight because I have been vomiting for 32 weeks thus far, plus, I just started FAT.

Sales' associate had no further comments as she bid me farewell.

I must buy now because my project date will be beginning soon and I don't want to have to 'ruin' my yearlong experiment by having to splurge on placemats. Which are neither depletable or disposable.

... in stitches (literally)

13:00 Petra goes down for an afternoon nap

14:00 Victoria takes a shower/shampoo after an afternoon of swimming and sunscreen

15:00 Mom (guess that would be me) irons a school uniform

15:30 Victoria cleans up the playroom before getting ready to go "Meet the Teacher"

15:45 Petra awakes from blissful rest

16:10 Victoria brushes her teeth and combs her hair

16:15 Petra plays quietly in playroom (too quietly, probably)

16:20 Victoria begins to get dressed with new uniform, school shoes, and school hair ribbon

16:30 Screams come from the playroom... the non-whiny kind... the blood-curdling kind

16:31 More screams - this time from Victoria and Mom

16:33 Mopping up blood and icing down one and one-half inch forehead gash; a result of climbing

16:35 Call Dad ... politely give him a choice: (1.) Take Victoria to school or (2.) Go to hospital

16:38 Petra calms down, gash stops gushing blood, and enjoys chomping on crushed ice

16:39 Cat 1 vomits

16:41 Cat 2 forgets to use the litter box

16:45 Victoria needs to be at school very soon; so she gets anxious

16:46 Mom wonders why she didn't hydrate more throughout the day?

16:47 Dad arrives not very thrilled with the two choices he was given 12 minutes ago

16:49 Dad goes to hospital because really there is no other choice

16:50 Victoria and Mom go to school ... in a nervous frenzy

16:59 Victoria and Mom arrive at school; Dad and Petra arrive at ER. Luckily our house is equidistant from hospital district and school district

17:04 Petra receives sutures

17:06 Victoria receives school supplies

19:36 Everyone in bed to put this horrible, no good, very bad day behind us!

A Movie Reference

My movie of the week is "Made of Honor" with Patrick Dempsey. I apologize because I am not sure what other actors are in it because I never get beyond the name "Patrick Dempsey".

I chauffeur my daughter every morning at 7:45 for soccer camp. She is finding the camp a bit boring due to the fact that it is all "Drills" and not so much "Soccer". I bring my chair, jug of water, book, sunscreen (because, yes, at 7:45 am it is already 95 degrees!), camera, cellphone and ipod.

Why do we stay to watch "camp"? I am not really sure. But all the other moms, dads, nannies, or grandparents are staying. So I stay, too.

I find the silver lining in soccer camp. I take photos. I take more photos. I wait for my daughter. I tell her to hurry and get in the car because I have some private news to share.

In the voice of an adult and all it's maturity, I gush, "Did you see TINY SHORTS?"

"MOM, shhhh!"

"I know, I know, but did you see TINY SHORTS?"

"It's just like our new favorite movie, 'Made of Honor', and TINY SHORTS playing basketball!"

I have captured TINY SHORTS in approximately twenty-six photos. We do not know TINY SHORTS therefore I will not add insult by posting his photo.

TINY SHORTS wears teeny shorts and knots his long t-shirt in the front (like Farrah Fawcett in the seventies!)

I laugh all the way home. I have more enthusiasm for soccer tomorrow. My daughter is gaining a bit more enthusiasm too. Too bad it is not for the 'right' reason.

One Cow Please!

We’re building a home (some day, like in 2019) on a two-acre lot in a small city, thirteen miles southwest of Fort Worth’s city limit.

I’m not even sure it is really considered a city. Perhaps, a town? A village? A municipal? Colony? Commune? Hamlet?

Population 726.

When my family moves there (upon completion of said home), we will increase the population (that is, if nobody happens to move out). I never dreamed I would reside in a town equivalent in size to Victoria’s Elementary School (student population is 720).

There is one stop light. Two major roads. One gas station (which, thankfully, has a supply of diet coke and an available restroom). And four gated neighborhoods. That is it!

The neighborhood covenant is written in drivel (much more boring than mine!). Minimum home square footage, blah blah, maximum number of buildings on property (only one shed or barn, ya’ll, not four), mailbox placement, garage placement, masonry façade, blah blah blah… And yet in small print – one farm animal, per acre, permitted.

I vote for a pot-bellied pig.
Victoria’s hoping for a horse.
Petra moos for a cow.
And husband – of course, just prefers the deer, wild turkey and scorpions that are pre-existing.

What about a goat? That would solve the mowing situation. I might trade my pot-bellied pig for a goat. OR, perhaps, I will just teach Petra how to bleat! [I should have bought that pig in Ho Chi Minh City for ten dollars. How I would have gotten the pig to Texas is another blog for another time.]

After perusing the fine print, I discover that we can own two farm animals (remember, one per acre)! I vote for the goat and pot-bellied pig! Maybe I'll win, after all, it is Mother's Day Weekend!

We visit our land each month. We blow bubbles, we run around, we receive cacti pokes, we inherit chiggers, we host bug bites, we swat bugs, we step in fire ant hills, we smuggle scorpions into Fort Worth, and we admire the Texas bluebonnets.

The bluebonnet sight in spring is worth all the other mishaps!

God Bless Texas and its Bluebonnets!

Swallowed up by Sir Meanness

Victoria's school principal is retiring next week after a bazillion years of duty. And for ninety-five percent of those years, principal has been a Crank.

Victoria's classroom was instructed to make a Retirement card for said principal. The teacher wrote the exact wording on the chalkboard so that each student would copy the words verbatim yet add their own personalization in the form of "art work".

After school, Victoria told me all about the card and what she had to write (she still hasn't told me about the threat Crank recently issued).

God Bless You, Ms. Z, as you retire. I hope you have a nice time. From, Victoria

"But, Mom, I didn't really want to make that card for Ms. Z. I don't hope she has a nice time."

"I know, Victoria, but thank you for following the teacher's directions. And let's try and say nice things for the rest of the day because I think we're running out of daily allotted good luck. We might get in a car accident for saying those things. Or we might trip and fall and get a bruise the size of Montana. Or we might..."

Victoria interrupted, "Well, (I shudder) I also made another card. You know how we're always making up pretend stories?"

She continued on. "My other card was a funny."

I didn't know if there were humorous retirement cards available for purchase. I could only recall kind, considerate, or the best wishes type.

God Bless You, Ms. Crank d'Z. Thank you for being the grump of the school. I am going to miss your meanie face. Have fun at home and don't forget to smile at your pets or you might scare them and then they will run away. From, nobody

"Oooh," was all I could mutter. I think I have a migraine. I want to laugh. But that is not appropriate. I cannot condone meanness. Although it is tempting.

"Remember that funny card that Miechelle sent you for your birthday? It was a funny with the word I am not suppose to use, ya' know, the b-word. I didn't show my funny card to my teacher. I just slipped it in the pile for a surprise. I think Ms. Z needs a laugh!" Surprise, indeed!

I drove the speed limit or less all the way home. I didn't want to get stopped by a police officer for any type of incident. I didn't want to get into a car accident, either. Our daily allotment of good luck has officially been depleted, our niceness had been swallowed up by Sir Meanness.

Three houses to go -- until we are safely in our garage.

Then I looked to my right and saw a terrible teenager sight,

as three moons greeted us with delight,

It's wine straight from the bottle for dinner tonight.

Crank gets the Look!

Victoria reached a milestone today...

She has officially mastered the "go to hell" glare and she used it in an appropriate situation.

Victoria is a good student. She is diligent. She is serious. She is responsible. She is well-behaved. (Or so I think in my own delusional state-of-being.) Children always act differently when they are away from their parents. I know this from experience. And since she is a problem-child at home, then she must be perfect at school.

The principal is an old bitter woman who never married and never raised children. And not that you need to be married or have children to be an effective principal, I do believe it would have helped this woman. On the golden egg scale, she registers as a 'bad egg' (remember Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory?). Cranky principal has one positive characteristic - she takes education very seriously. However, she is not a pedestal role model for children.

The "Crank" visited my daughter's Kindergarten classroom. Victoria's class was participating in a writing lesson. At that exact moment, the "Crank" selected my child to approach. The quietest, the most shy, the most sensitive, and the best handwriting.

In a coarse and unfriendly voice, Crank announced, "Victoria, if you keep holding your pencil like that, you won't be passing to first grade. How would you like to repeat Kindergarten?"

Victoria kept on writing. Pretending that this woman couldn't possibly be talking to her (another mastered action, perhaps, learned from me). Victoria's head is screaming at the Crank (I can hear it)!

Crank insisted, "Victoria, I want you to hold your pencil this way" (as she removed Victoria's pencil and placed it into her hand in a different position). It was so awkward that Victoria could not legibly write her name.

And this is where the "LOOK" was coming to fruition.

She glared at this woman (who remained quite oblivious), squinted up her big blue eyes, clenched her teeth, and drained her face of color. If actions could speak, "GO TO HELL" would have been screamed from the depths of her gut!

The school photographer had been following the principal for candid interaction photographs. Ironically, school photographer took a photo at the exact same moment that the "LOOK" was produced.

Crank demanded, "Victoria, are you paying attention? I told you to do it the correct way!" (Victoria had resumed her own successful pencil position, disregarding Crank's authority.)

Victoria looked up and shouted, "I heard you. AND YOU are hurting my Mother's feelings."

Crank was clearly confused. Victoria continued, "MY MOTHER LOST TWO FINGERS FROM SICK BACTERIA AND SHE CAN'T WRITE THAT WAY EITHER!"

Crank is retiring in seven days. We are looking forward to a joyful year in first grade.

Too bad school photographer deleted the photo! She is the one who informed me of the situation. For now, Victoria is keeping her secret about the scary principal encounter! And, me, I am trying to find a way to successfully model the balance between rebellion and independence!

The Price of Bananas in Fort Worth

A little market background: recently, I am trying to be cost-conscious during my trips to the grocery stores. I have been [self] accused of not understanding the concept of money. I take time to peruse the flyers. I take time to clip coupons. I don't buy many pre-packaged items. Most of my grocery money is spent on fruits, vegetables, beef, chicken and seafood. Frankly, there aren't many coupons for those particular food items. So, I do rely on the weekly flyers for an attempt at saving.

I venture out to Grocery Store A to purchase my weekly fruits and vegetables.

I wonder aloud, "Is there a world banana shortage going on that I missed?" Luckily, shopper A and shopper B chose to ignore me. I continued on...

"Bananas have steadily increased in price. A year ago, I paid twenty-five cents per pound. And then the price jumped to thirty-four cents per pound. And since January, bananas are consistently at fifty-six cents per pound." Still being ignored here...

Just then, I had an epiphany!

I pushed my cart to the front and proceeded with my checkout. Unfortunately, all of the self-checkout lanes were closed this morning. I had to queue in the midst of shoppers A and B, and a new one, C.

I placed my items on the conveyor belt. Friendly Cashier began to scan my purchases.

"You can't do this!" Friendly Cashier announced.

"What?" I innocently asked.

"THIS!!" Unhappy Cashier yelled.

"But I only EAT that PART!!" I insisted.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Angry Cashier stated.

"Look, nobody eats the peels. This way I get more banana at fifty-six cents per pound!!" I intelligently informed said cashier.

"You cannot stand in the produce section at Grocery Store A and peel the fruit. You cannot buy unpeeled bananas or oranges. OR ANY other fruit that you may intend to buy in the future," retorted Obstinate Cashier.

"BUT," I tried to continue ... the Manager was summoned. Perhaps, Manager will see my point. [I was able to get fifteen peeled bananas for two pounds instead of the typical nine bananas. How great was that! Six more bananas! What a Savings!]

"Where are the peels and rinds?" demanded Annoyed Manager.

"Here, under the cart, I was looking for a trash can," I explained.

Irritated Manager grabbed my full bag of peels, placed them on the scale. To cure your curiosity, fifteen peels weighed 1.25 pounds. That is seventy cents! I saved seventy cents! Wait! Grocery Store A is going to charge me seventy cents for PEELS! That's ridiculous! You cannot even eat PEELS!

I huffed. "I am not paying for PEELS!" "Besides your welcome sign says that the customer is always RIGHT!"

"Fine," said Defeated Manager. "However, YOU are no longer welcome to shop at Grocery Store A. Please do not ever come back or try to come back -- we will be watching for you!"

I triumphantly gathered my PEEL-LESS bananas, RIND-LESS oranges, and other food items. I strutted past Shoppers A, B, and C who stood with agape mouths. I smiled. They scowled.

Immediately I called my husband at work, "HEY, I believe our family has been banned from Grocery Store A, if you shop there don't forget to use CASH. They won't recognize you with CASH." I would inform him of the situation later. OR maybe I wouldn't. Because I think Grocery Store A really does not want to see me again.

Moral of the story: DON'T PEEL YOUR BANANAS!
[We had to eat all fifteen bananas within two hours -- before they turned to brown mush.]

Mommy's Day

"Happy Mommy Day"
(sung to the tune of "Mary Had A Little Lamb")

Mommy had a little wine,

a little beer,

with a lime,

a margarita

and more tequila,

some jello shots

and for lunch - sangria,

a lotta rum,

gin and crap.

And that's why mommy

takes a nap!


written by melissa (for melissa)