Well, if you came by at the end of last week, you would know that my husband spent the weekend taking an introductory sailboating lesson, and his reaction to sailing for the first time? He loved it! I definitely have some misgivings-I mean, I wanted him to have fun, but now there is talk of a boat purchase in the near future (um, we are way past due on a house renovation so this "near future" needs to get in line), and the possibility that all of us will become sailors with him.
Hmm...I am not too crazy about boats. You know there's all that wind and water and rocking back and forth stuff that gets in the way of a really cool ride. We've been on boats before-motor boats, and we had fun, but a sailboat needs to be controlled, and even my husband said it's a ton of work. The kids are also iffy about the sailing talk, especially after they heard the word work, so I don't know if we land lubbers will ever take to the sea.
I do know one thing for sure-I told my husband that I need to stay in a hotel all alone next time. The rosy colored weekend that I pictured with my kids was not a happy one. I spent almost the entire time at odds with both my children. My daughter's pre-teen attitude and mouth were working over time so much that she was asked to leave the kitchen until my son and I were finished with our dinner. (I just wanted to eat in peace! She had been arguing with me all day about everything.) She got the last word though-she and I were to bunk together Saturday night because I can't sleep too well when my husband isn't there, but when she returned to the kitchen, she promptly told me that she would be sleeping in her room that night. I was cool and collected, telling her that was fine, and reminding her that you can never take back words and actions, but inside I was heartbroken. Where did my sweet little girl go?
And my son? He talked almost non-stop the entire weekend, more so since my daughter and I were not talking much after Saturday. I love him dearly, and I know that soon he won't want to talk to me, but I could honestly feel my brain stop functioning at one point, and semi-paralysis of the thought processes setting in... After that weekend and a very full day with my kids at school, I'm mentally exhausted.
So thankfully it's time for Succinctly Yours, another writing meme that piggy backs on the idea of Susan of the Stony River Blog.
Grandma Goulash posts a picture and you are to write a 140 character or word story about it. You can also use the word of the day in your post if you wish. This week's word is beneficial. Here this week's picture and my take this week:
"This shopping's wiped me out," thought Evan. "I need an excuse...I know, I'll tell her I have a headache. Works every time for her." (135 characters)
I hope you chuckled a bit at this-I am desperately in need of both chocolate and some humor therapy. I hope you all saw something amusing in today's picture too.
I also wanted to say that even though I have reduced my posting to only twice a week, I may be stepping away from my blog for a little while. I'm trying to finish a very lengthy project I started in April, and now that the summer is over and I'm back in the classroom, I don't have as much time in the evening for family, school work, blog, and my other writing. You know as well as I do, that posting and reading other posts takes time-lots of time, and I have been on my blog for over an hour tonight. Now I used the word may for a reason-I don't know if I can stay away, but I'm a natural born procrastinator, and this blog and the Internet are just too tempting. So, you will either see me or...
I am a not feeling very well, and the heat made everything worse. I put off doing laundry until today because of spotty rain showers the past couple days, and I wanted to hang the clothes outside to be a little more power conscious. But while I saved electrical consumption, I put out a great deal of physical energy consumption, and each trip oustide left me drenched in sweat. What was I thinking? I was going to review some movies in this post, but I needed to whine more...
Thank goodness for Succinctly Yours, another writing meme that piggy backs on the idea of Susan of the Stony River Blog.
Grandma Goulash posts a picture and you are to write a 140 character or word story about it. You can also use the word of the day in your post if you wish. This week's word is arbitrary. Here is the picture and two takes this week (one poetry and one prose):
Dad went for a Coke and I glanced at all the old tools. He was like his tools in a way-a bit worn, but still a force to be reckoned with. (138 characters)
I ran my hand along the bench,
Wood shavings cascade to the floor,
This room's a silent tribute,
To the man who is no more. (132 characters)
I sort of fell into the poem while trying to cut down another piece, but I still didn't get everything I wanted out of it so I tried again and it took me longer than it should have to do two. I will come around soon!
Most of you probably don't need to be told how hot it is where I am, and that's probably because it is just as hot where you are, but I'm going to tell you any way. Today it was 93 at 11:00 AM, and 100 by 1:30 PM, and that was in the shade and on grass! (Do you feel hotter already? My mother always said that she grew hotter if she knew the actual temperature, and I think she's right!)
So, even though I detest the whole process (lathering the kids down with sunscreen, packing all the necessities for the pool, piling in the car, arriving at the pool, getting abused by kids in said pool, coming back home, then dealing with all the wet necessities and showers), this is exactly what we have been doing almost five days straight. We took only one day off to do grocery shopping and errands... Are things as hot your way?
Oh well-summer goes by quickly so I better not complain. I'm just glad it's
Book Blurb Friday! This is where Lisa Ricard Claro, from Writing in the Buff, posts a picture meant to serve as a fictional book cover. It's your job to write a blurb about the book in 150 words or less to entice a prospective reader. Are you up to the challenge? Here is this week's picture and my story:
What the Statue Told Her
Aubrey began working on her family tree when she was in grade school, but after her parent’s sudden disappearance when she was 12, her once passing interest became a serious pursuit. Some thought it a bit strange for a young girl to be digging about in the past, trying to locate estranged family members. Authorities believed her parents were dead, but Aubrey believed differently, thinking that somebody knew something.
The largest piece of the puzzle came to Aubrey in the form of a note that read, “The girl will tell you,” and it lead straight to Shady Oaks Cemetery. Friends warned it was a cruel joke, but Aubrey went looking for the “girl” anyway.
She now stood facing a statue resembling her in every way, and as she stared, a tear slowly rolled down the marble face, and a voice in Aubrey's head started to speak… (146 words)
As usual, I don't like my title very much. Do the rest of you struggle with your titles too? I can't wait to see what everyone wrote!
I’m getting an education in how to deal with my "tween" daughter, but it’s happening at a snails pace, one day at a time-isn’t that a song title? And as the countdown is slowing to just a few weeks before my daughter turns the ripe old age of 12, and the battles of "who's the boss" continue, I can’t help but remember some of the battles I had with my own mother at this age, and I hope time won’t repeat itself.
Do all mothers and daughters disagree when the teen years start, or are my control issues driving a wedge between us? I‘m coming off a real low point right now, in part because of an argument I had with my daughter before school on Friday. It had been a trying week for me, mainly because I hadn’t been feeling too well, and I hadn’t been getting much sleep at night-my body was dead tired, but I just couldn’t shut my brain down.
Anyway, I was off on Friday, but my kids still had school, so I was the one who would have get them on the bus (my husband usually drives the kids to school because the bus gets to our house pretty late.) Things weren’t going too well with my daughter, and speed was the issue-there seems to be one speed for getting things done anymore, "slow!" I was watching the clock and trying to get her to finish getting ready, but she was still in front of the mirror fooling with her outfit-no shoes on, and hair and teeth not brushed, so I was a basket case! They had a teachers vs. students basketball game that day, and all of her friends had decided that they would dress a certain way…
The bus would be here in ten minutes so I shouted my last warning, and headed outside with my son. With five minutes left to spare, she meanders outside carrying her winter coat, and decides that she needs her light coat instead. Back in the house she goes, and comes out with a very thin hoodie-now I know the temperatures were to get into the 60’s later in the day, but it was still in the 30’s, and with the wind blowing it felt like 20’s!
So I headed back in the house in search of a light but a bit heavier jacket, but when I came out I knew by my daughter’s face that I was in for an argument. You see the shirt she was wearing was pretty long, and it didn’t look right hanging out from under her jacket. Back into the house I went in search of another jacket, coming out with one that I bought her last spring. She refused to try it on to see if it would fit. I had my doubts too, but I mean she actually flat out refused and that brought out the control freak in me-I gave her an ultimatum-either try on the jacket, or lose her iPod for a week! She tried on the jacket but even though it still fit her in the sleeves, it was now much too short, so back into the house I went for the winter jacket again!
That’s three trips into the house and back, and I was livid-my daughter wanted to go back into the house to retrieve her jacket, but like I said before, the only speed she knows is slow, and the bus was due any minute.
Now a smarter person would have just let the matter drop with only two minutes before the bus, but since my education in tween isn’t complete, I did not stop. My daughter’s hair (or more like the lack of a hairstyle) has been a point of contention between her, her father, and me for some time now-I had wanted her to browse the web until she found a style she liked, and then we would go the beauty shop this weekend. She hadn’t done this yet; I told her that I was taking her this weekend and the style I wanted her to have would be the one she would come home with. This didn’t go over very well, and there were some tears and some angry retorts-apparently I have ruined her life, and she was going to make sure I never saw her grandchildren.
Okay, I was so hurt by the "ruining her life" comment that I didn’t laugh at the grandchild comment (um, I would be dead so I wouldn’t see her grandchildren)-she must mean "children" but I didn’t correct her. And I got no wave or acknowledgment (although I rarely do anymore) when she walked on the bus.
I called my husband up when I got back inside, and he promptly welcomed me to his world-he has daily altercations with my daughter about the speed issue (I believe the "I hate you!" is uttered by her to him quite frequently), but he says he tries to back off before things get too intense, sort of signifying that once again I had a lot to learn about tweendom.
Things are better between my daughter and I since Friday morning-we talked, and I listened, and I started to remember how hard school and life is at this age. Everything is changing for her-more responsibilities at home, harder work at school, and friends and their opinions taking a bigger role. I’m not saying that we’re not going to have any more battles (she lost her iPod today after I asked her three times to get into the shower), but I’m going to work on listening a little more and talking a little less, that and looking for a book on this stuff-I hate being the slowest kid in the class!
This post was supposed to be a review of Virginia Beach, but I decided to break things up a bit and tell you what happened July 16, the day before we were scheduled to leave. My husband was officially off that day to help pack up our van, but he needed to attend a last minute meeting. The kids wanted to get some spending money for our trip so my husband decided they could go with him and I could finish packing the suitcases. And as they were filing out the door, my husband turned to me and said, "This way you can be all alone," and my reply seems somewhat prophetic now-I remember saying that I didn’t want to be alone, and I still wonder why I said that. Now I am convinced that it was a premonition of what would soon follow…
I knew I didn’t have a lot of time, so I was foolishly doing several things at once-packing, laundry, and looking for a receipt (not sure why I was doing this one)-and things were okay until I heard the washing machine shut off. I quickly headed down our basement steps only to charge back up to get a laundry basket. (I usually keep an empty one down there, hmm...) I wanted to hang a few things outside that I wanted to take on our trip, and since it was such a hot day I knew they would dry quickly. Back down the stairs I went carrying the empty laundry basket, but when I mistakenly reached what I thought was the floor, I took a step out in mid air-I went up over the last step of the staircase and down on my left ankle and I eventually ended up on my hands and knees straddling the laundry basket.
Hot pain shot through my foot but since I didn’t hear a crack I didn’t think it was broken. I dumbly sat there on the basement floor trying to rub the pain away, and then reality started to set in-how was I going to get back upstairs? I couldn’t put any weight on my foot and my right knee was missing a teensy bit of skin, so I went up backwards, butt first, then crawled, hopped, and dragged my way around the house in search of my cell phone. I couldn’t get through to my husband’s meeting, so when I finally reached one of the secretaries, I broke down. I’m surprised she could understand me through all my crying and I don’t exactly recall what I did say to her, but she promised to get a message to my husband, and I was still crying when he finally called.
I made myself calm down so I could think about where I last saw my old crutches (um, I had broken this same ankle about 14 years ago on the same staircase, but I was trying to shoo the cat down the stairs when I fell-I hate stairs!) I remembered seeing them in the garage, so I crawled, dragged, then hopped again(there was no way I was going to crawl on that garage floor if I could help it!) until I found the crutches. With these I was at least able to get ready to meet my husband when he got home.
I ended up going to the OSS (Orthopedic and Spine Specialists) because a co-worker of my husband said it would be much faster than the ER at the hospital. Heck, I was checked in, examined, x-rayed, and fitted with a new pair of crutches in exactly an hour-fast service! I saw the emergency care physician and unfortunately she was only looking at my ankle and not my foot. She said it wasn’t broken, just a really bad sprain, and that it would be about four or five days before I could put weight on it. Well, a week and a half later my foot was still swollen and I couldn’t put weight on it. More x-rays Monday revealed a small bone in my foot was broken off when my ligaments in my ankle put pressure there during my fall, so now I'm in a space aged boot for the next four weeks-isn’t it pretty?
My husband wanted to cancel our trip, but I was determined to get to the beach this summer (plus we would lose a pretty hefty deposit!) We decided to rent a wheel chair when we were down there, and since it’s past my bedtime and my foot is throbbing, you will have to wait for that story in a couple days…
Update 7/28: I am trying to catch up on everyone's blogs a little at a time. See, I can't sit for very long and my smart phone makes me feel stupid! Can't wait to catch up!
Ok, I’ve been suffering since Saturday with some sort of strange cold/allergy thing that makes me talk like a toad, cough up a lung, and, according to my husband, snore like a train, but I am not convinced it’s my snoring he’s hearing. I do not snore-I think he is hearing his own snoring self because I've been hearing him… So let’s recap-I got this crud of a virus thing and 4 days of no sleep (and did I mention a fresh batch of hormones to make me really feel special?), and that equals a cranky me.
The kids at school are approaching me very cautiously, and although some of them are acting inappropriately (hmm, now why would I possibly get upset when you blatantly refuse to take a seat, or when you lie to a sub when I am out sick?) little things are irritating me more than they should. And things aren’t much better at home with the kids and my husband. I just about bit my son’s head off when I thought he lied to me about completing his homework tonight-as it turns out, the couple incomplete worksheets he had in his folder are the result of working at different stations in the class today. They move on to the next station regardless of whether they finish an activity or not-man that better be right!
I do believe my husband has had his fill of my off-the-cuff commenting and snarling too-at the beginning of the week he was sending me “cheer up” e-mails to make me smile, but the last one I got yesterday just said, “I hope you are in a good mood when you come home.” And although I was trying to get things on the table tonight and he just plunked himself down and started to put food on the kids plates, I could have asked for help a tad bit nicer than, “I don’t know why you are sitting when I need some cheese grated.” I also said this with the customary hands-on-the-hips and roll of the eyes-just for effect. And let’s just say that it didn’t go over very well.
Just how am I going to change my terrible attitude? Well I thought that if I just dump everything that has ticked me off over the last few days in this post (lucky you!), I might be able to start fresh tomorrow. So, without further ado, here’s a rundown of conversations and observances for my Thursday rendition of Sunday Sage’ ness-I hope you can relate.
· Yes, your room looks better, but now I can’t see under your bed.
· Now if what you said is true and you brushed your teeth, then why is your toothbrush dry?
· You can only go to the commons area if you have an honors pass. I’m not going to give you a pass to the library so you can turn around and join your buddies in the commons area.
· If I am going to drag my butt into school on a Sunday evening to make sure you will be ok without me Monday morning, you had better do what the substitute says or else expect to face the angry women formally known as your teacher.
· Ok, it’s simple-you brush your teeth, rinse out your mouth, then throw your cup in the trash. Every time I walk into the bathroom, a horde of paper cups is waiting for me.
· If I am not allowed to get mad after asking you five times to take out the dog, then give me the number of times I can ask before I get mad, so I know when to get mad the next time.
· If I am not sitting at the table but you are, maybe you can help so that I can sit down too.
· How many people are going to walk past that pencil before someone picks it up? (The answer-two kids and a husband-I picked it up)
· Why doesn’t anyone else besides me see that the dog is not chewing one of his toys, but one of yours?
· Am I the only one who can use a phone-I could be alive or dead, but you wouldn't know. And the longer it takes, the more upset it makes-me-so don’t expect a pleasant conversation when you do call.
· I dropped a hint about seeing some dog hair on the carpet-I better finish this post so that the hinter can take care of it.
Well, I don’t know if I feel any better, but as promised, tomorrow is a new day (and it’s Friday and payday!) so I will check my sarcasm at the door before going into school or back home. (And not everything went wrong today-my daughter let me hug her so that I could feel better!) So I am going to follow Louis Armstrong's lead when he said this in a song, “When you're smiling, the whole world smiles with you.” (If that doesn't work, there's always cheesecake...)
Why is it that dating my husband is so much harder and involves much more mishap than it was during our pre-marriage days? I’m not saying that our pre-marriage dates were always fantastic because many times they just involved dinner and a movie, but dating my husband takes an extreme amount of effort. You have to decide on the day, arrange for a sitter, plan the outing so that you are not completely exhausted the next day, and the date never seems to live up to all the hype-although it does make for a good blog post…
When my kids were smaller, we didn’t try to go out-with both of us working, the guilt of not being near our kids during our off time was just too much too bear, and we did everything together as a family. Then as our family grew and the kids got older, the stresses of family life and the workday naturally increased so my husband and I tried to incorporate little “breaks” from the kids a few times a year. Yes, you read that right-we still had trouble leaving the kids. We are more relaxed about things now, but both kids are in school so it makes things much easier. Besides, they both cheer when they hear we are leaving them with a sitter.
But while we overcame the leaving part, the actual dating part has, well, been interesting. At first, I chalked up our dating experience as just a case of bad luck-I mean, sometimes things go wrong no matter how much you plan. But then I started noticing a pattern and realized that we must be the ill fated victims of some type of tribal curse that affects only married couples, and we are destined, like in the movie Ground Hog Day, to suffer continued dating disasters.
For instance, let’s look back at when the dates started going sour-my husband and I decided to get a nice dinner and finish our Christmas shopping. I was so looking forward to this but as the date grew closer, and money spent on Christmas gifts started flying through our fingertips, we decided on a sandwich joint instead-we used the fact that we would have more time to shop as a way of softening the disappointment. Things started off well because we were able to get most of what was on our list, but then it was time to eat. We stopped off at a favorite hang out of ours-one we have been to a thousand times-and we ordered our usual choices. But things took a bad turn after I had finished my last bite-I had a peculiar feeling in my stomach. I had eaten more than I usually do so I just thought I was overly full, but oh how wrong I was!
I remember that we were in the car and my husband was relating some story involving something at work, but all my concentration was on the sick feeling in my stomach. I mentioned that I wasn’t feeling very well and may have to use a bathroom, so my husband nonchalantly said I could go at the sitters. That seemed plausible enough until my hands and feet started to itch, and we're not talking a little itch here-I’m saying that if I could have scratched my skin off, I would have done so that night!
I turned the dash light on-I had monster hands and feet, all red and swollen and I had blotches on my face. I remember my husband uttering “whoa” when he snuck a peek at me-I was that hideous. Then the nausea increased and I begged my husband to get me to the nearest bathroom. One of the county parks was nearby so he pulled up close to the public bathrooms, but it was getting dark and the bathroom had no electric lights, so my husband kept his headlights on so that I could find my way to a stall. Let me tell you that these facilities were only one step up from a porta-potty, and the stench alone could have made me wretch, and wretch I did do, several times in a scope of about 20 minutes. By this time my husband’s headlights went out and I had to endure my miserable state in pitch black, but then I heard voices. The parks close and lock their gates at dark, so a park ranger had come by to see what was up, and to make matters worse, we both knew the guy!
After completely emptying my stomach of all of its contents, I tried to feel my way out the door and walk nonchalantly to the car, but the ranger shined his light (he shouldn’t have) before I could crawl back in. We made it to the sitters but my husband went in alone to get the kids. We figured that the restaurant had added something new to the dish and that I had a nasty allergic reaction to whatever it was. A little Benadryl and a good nights rest set everything right again, but like I said before, that one date was the start of a trend!
Now I would be lying if I said that every outing where I was alone with my husband ended badly, because there were a few times this year when both of us were off but the kids had school, and those couple days were wonderful. But these were spontaneous outings, with no planning involved, so they ended much better than anything we ever planned. So I decided to compile a list of all the bad luck that has happened on our dates of late to prove my curse theory:
·At a recent outing, we were forced to entertain a co-worker’s drunken husband.
·We attended an evening wedding that left us wiped out that night and for the rest of the weekend, and I became the designated driver...
·We decided on a new restaurant but had to wait 45 minutes for a table, 30 minutes for our food, and 20 minutes for the check. There were no happy thoughts on the way home.
·I was so excited about meeting my husband at a nearby restaurant-of course traffic was terrible and I was running late. I glanced at a nearby eatery but didn’t see the car in front of me slam on their breaks-I totaled our 6 month old van and got a ticket! My husband met me at the crash site instead and dinner was, um, canceled.
·Before another date my husband and I got into an argument about whether we were going to a movie or just out to eat. Well, we had a bad meal, no movie, and we barely talked the entire time.
So you see, we are cursed and it seems the only sure way to have a good date is to make sure that the date isn’t planned. But with two kids, sports practices, and work, this is next to impossible-were talking the earth-moon-sun angle needs to be 180 degrees with a full moon at midnight… But tell me, has this same blight affected you, or have you mastered “date night” at your house? I sure hope this malady isn’t contagious…
It all started with the snow. The weather forecasters predicted 8-12 inches by Saturday, but since weathermen have the only profession known to man that allows them to be wrong, (since most of us don’t know our jet stream from a stationary front a weatherman can blame anything for the missed prediction) and because the computer generated Super Doppler Radar is still just a machine, I didn’t believe them-I was wrong. It snowed continuously from midnight Friday until late into the evening Saturday (we got 20 inches), so no runs to the mall for a couple last minute gifts, or runs to the grocery store for things I needed to do our holiday baking…
Now you might ask how I know that the snow started at midnight Friday night, and I will tell you. I finished watching 3 Weddings and a Funeral for probably the 30th time (still worth it to me, but not my hubby), and was heading to the bathroom for some hand cream. I glanced out the window in the kitchen and saw a few flakes start their decent. When I got to the bathroom, I couldn’t find my new hand cream tube, so I tried to squeeze what I could from my old tube and my hand slipped. The cap made a ¼ inch gap in my left pointer finger (typing is real fun tonight!) and blood was dripping down my hand and onto the sink. I started weaving back and forth and I kept thinking would anyone hear me hit the floor? My inner voice finally piped up and I put pressure on the cut and raised my hand over my head. I did manage to finally get a bandage around my finger-not an easy thing to do while you are rocking back and forth I can tell you-and me and my throbbing finger finally made it to bed.
Later that morning I rolled over and winced because of a kink in my left shoulder-I just figured I laid on it wrong and tried to go about the day. The snow kept falling, and my finger kept bleeding, and with my shoulder now hurting, I parked it on the couch while the kids and hubby braved the wind chill and played in the snow. I tried to make it up to everyone by attacking a new cookie recipe that was supposed to be foolproof, and although it was, I burned my hand getting the tray out of the oven, and the mess I made making the cookies was more than a little disheartening. The bandage kept coming off my finger while I washed up, so I asked if hubby could finish. I know he had been Mr. Entertainment for the kids outside, but I did manage to put something on the table for dinner and get it cleaned up, and although he obliged, he didn’t do so without making a comment or two...
Fast forward to today-I can’t lift my left arm to the side or even lift it up waist high, but since I took it easy yesterday, the laundry for the week (I usually start washing clothes Friday night and end Sunday so I don’t have to do it during the work week), wasn’t done and I wrestled four loads in and out of the washer and dryer all day today. And since Sunday school was canceled, my activities today consisted of computer, laundry, lunch duty, laundry, computer, laundry, and then couch. No one is taking my wincing seriously, and when it was nearing the time for dinner (I was reading the paper on the couch) my husband walks in and asks, “What’s for dinner?”
I wanted to say something, but it’s nearing that “most wonderful time of the year,” so up I went to the kitchen to quickly get something together using my one good arm. I sat at the dinner table in a rather sour state and I braced myself for the stress that eating with children always brings, but then something happened that is really quite miraculous, and no, it has nothing to do with my aches and pains. As I sat there, I watched my son pretend to throw super hero punches at his dad sitting next to him instead of eating his vegetables. My husband was doing his best to eat his dinner and ignore my son, but I could tell by the look on his face that his patience was dwindling and his annoyance was growing, and all at once everything-my finger, my arm, the snow, and even my annoyance-was hysterically funny. Even though I tried my best to hold my laughter in, it spilled out then, and sporadically throughout the rest of the evening.
You know it really is how you look at things-I mean my shoulder still hurts and I have a date later with the heating pad (I still don't know what I did to it!), I am typing without the use of my left pointer finger, and I have a load of laundry in the dryer, but I am sitting here smiling, my soul is content, and like a line in A Christmas Story, "everything is right with the world!" Goodnight everyone and Merry Christmas!
My daughter was such a bubbly baby-always giggling and gurgling, having conversations with her hands, the dog, the carpet, and her dad and I, and she was very affectionate well into toddler hood. She was my partner in games against daddy, and she would laugh her head off when I made smooching sounds as I got close to kiss her goodnight. Dressing her was a snap because she liked everything that I liked and her outfits would often consist of matching hats and tights-she was a diva in the making! And the part of my day that I looked forward to the most, was rocking this little angel until she fell asleep on my shoulder-sometimes I would continue to rock because I just couldn’t part with her.
She graciously took on the role of big sister, and though we all hung on for dear life as she rocketed through the terrible threes and into her fours, generally by the end of the night we would get our loving daughter back. But time changes things-sometimes good and sometimes bad-and somewhere along the way my daughter turned into Miss Opposite.
Now this change didn’t happen over night-I noticed little alterations in her actions at first, like when she stopped giving me her wet, sloppy kisses. My husband and I would brace ourselves as she came near because she never puckered up, she just opened her mouth and planted it against our cheek-I hated it then but I wouldn't mind it now. Granted, I still rub her back and head every night just as I did when she was smaller, and I still manage to sneak a kiss in before I leave her room, but I have to sneak a kiss in because Miss Opposite doesn’t like kisses anymore, and she never returns them.
Clothing choices have become a nightmare-the days of picking an outfit for her are gone because Miss Opposite doesn’t always agree with what I think is attractive anymore, and now there are certain items of clothing that she refuses to wear like turtlenecks (they choke her), socks (she can’t stand the seams against her toes, so when I make her wear them with tennis shoes, she turns them inside out, but at least they’re on!), and over-the-head sweaters (they’re too hot). Naturally all of these particular clothing items were worn previously by Miss Opposite, but then, just like that, they are shoved to the back of her closet. Nowadays when Miss Opposite needs something new, I drag her along to the store and keep my mouth shut because if I say I like something, Miss Opposite decides she doesn’t-I make a suggestion only when asked and this assures that the item will be bought and worn.
And don’t get me started on her hair! She used to have wispy bangs and I pulled her hair back away from her face with fancy bows and ribbons, or curled it into bouncy spirals, and because it was fine and prone to knots, I kept it shorter. That shorter “do” is now down past her shoulders, and Miss Opposite tries to take care of it herself. Gone are the bangs and her hair either falls flat against the sides of her head (Miss Opposite cries if I make it too fluffy because she says I’m making her ugly), or she pulls it back into a ponytail using her customary scrunchy.
Then there is her new means of communicating, or more like the lack thereof of any real form of communication. Gone are our meaningful talks before bed, and the endless tales of the goings-on at school, and in its place are Miss Opposite’s overreactions, snide comments, and conversations like the following: “How was school today?”
“Ok.”
“What did you do?”
“Stuff.”
“You know you have to wear black and white to your concert tomorrow, and…”
“I already know.”
“How about wearing those black gauchos, and that white turtleneck, and…”
“I’m not wearing that turtleneck, you know I don’t like turtlenecks.”
“It’s only for one hour one night, can’t you stand it for one night?”
“NO!!! I can’t wear that!”
This particular scene was played out Monday evening, and after much haggling back and forth, and all the “my mother is ruining my life” theatrics, she agreed to try the turtleneck on. I really don’t know if it fit or not-she was holding her arms out straight to show that the sleeves were too short, but by this point I was too tired to fight her anymore, and agreed to run to the mall after dinner. I must have still looked upset when my husband walked in the door, because when he found out all Miss Opposite needed was a white blouse, he agreed to take her shopping-I am still in shock over this, and even though he sent me six pictures of possible blouses on my cell, they arrived back home with a purchase.
Preparations for Tuesday night's concert were just as bad-I told Miss Opposite to go shower and wash her hair while I was getting dinner ready, but it took her three “reminders” to get moving. Miss Opposite was still sitting at the dinner table even after I told her more than once to go get dressed, and then when I wanted to dry her hair so that it looked nice instead of her usual no-style look, once again I was making her look ugly. And everything else Miss Oppositez said about this event was, well, opposite-
“Is this a combined concert for the band and chorus? We might want to leave early if that’s the case.”
“No, there will only be about 20 students involved.”
There were 90 chorus students, 70 band students, and 25 jazz band students, so multiply those numbers by at least two parents (not including siblings or grandma) and you guessed it-the place was packed, but we are used to everything being the opposite so thankfully we got to the school early.
“Where are you going to be so we can sit close?” “I will be in the front on the right.” We got 2nd row seats in the middle right, but when Miss Opposite filed in, she was in the front on the far left and we couldn’t see her. My husband went scouting around to get some good shots while my son and I tried to catch a glimpse of her between the bodies in front of us. I looked over the other girls and something struck me-they all looked the same, flat hair, no bangs, hmm... And when the principal ended the show, instead of waiting for us to meet her, Miss Opposite headed back to the music room and my husband had to fight the crowds and go look for her.
It was a nice concert, but Miss Opposite was still upset about her hair so I don’t recall any smiling during the event, but I’m going to watch the tape later and hope for the best. This see-saw back and forth betwen loving me(she admitted to her principal recently that I am her role model) and hating me (she snapped at me tonight saying I was going to make everyone late ), is pretty hard to take, and I am now snapping back after her comments. It also seems that the tighter I try to hold on to what once was, the more my daughter tries to pull away. When my husband asked if she had fun after the concert, Miss Opposite grunted at first, but then laughed, and for a split second I caught a glimpse of the daughter from years past, the one I know and love-Sigh...boy do I miss her.
I didn't do a couple Tuesday tunes so I thought I would add an appropriate song (or two) here. I hope you enjoy The Beatles with Yesterday , and I am reminded about how the relationship between my daughter and I used to be like, and hopefully will be again, with Martina McBride's tearjerker, In My Daugher's Eyes.
I don’t remember when we first started cutting down our own Christmas tree-I know we bought a tree off the lot the first year we were married and my husband could barely get it into our rented townhouse (we were not good at height estimations), and we settled on having just a fake tree afterwards because we went “home” for the holidays and we were tired of coming back and cleaning up the pine-less stick that was left. Our vacuum didn’t pick up all the needles embedded in the carpet, so we were still getting the occasional prick for months afterwards.
My family never chopped a Christmas tree down either-we lived in the suburbs and were strictly “lot tree people” as far as I can remember, but my husband’s childhood was different. He grew up a few hours North of me where the snows are deeper and more frequent, and where residents are primarily “tree cutters.” So I guess things were going to have to change one-way-or-another when this “lot tree” person married a “tree cutter,”and things went my way until we had our first child.
As all of you know, when kids arrive everything changes, and what was once acceptable is no longer. My husband wanted to follow his family traditions at Christmas, and since I really didn’t have any traditions of my own, I embraced most of his. (Notice how I said most…) He relayed story upon story of his families’ treks in the woods to find the perfect Christmas tree, and he really had me convinced that if I didn’t go along with this, I would be shortchanging my daughter’s Christmas experience. Unfortunately, the area chosen as the “perfect” spot for this trek was about a 300-yard walk up a steep hill that is about 200 feet high! Now remember that I mentioned I was a suburbanite, and trudging up any hill during the cold is not something I wanted to do, but I was a new mother, so I caved. We also had a year old dog that our families affectionately referred to as our “firstborn,” and my husband decided he should go along on the trip too.
I remember standing at the foot of this mountain-hill and not being able to see the top-I had the dog and my husband carried our daughter in her car seat. We passed very nice trees towards the bottom end of the mountain-hill, but my husband, being the experienced “tree cutter” convinced me that the perfect tree could only be found at the top, so on we went. The dog, who was not yet obedience trained, pulled mercilessly forward, and about half way up I nearly fell over him as he dove in and out of the trees. I was losing my Christmas spirit very fast, and I soon muttered obscenities to the dog and to my husband under my breath. And then I started to whine-I was cold, I was tired, I would wait in the car-and my kind hearted husband ended up with both the dog and the baby as we slowly reached the summit. I did relax a little when we found a gorgeous tree (although by then all the trees looked alike), and I slowly dragged the car seat with my daughter down the hill, while my husband had hold of the tree and the dog.
Today marks our tenth trip up that blasted hill, but we are now a family of four and these days I’m an old pro. I know how to dress for the cold so I don’t whine as much (my husband says I still do more than necessary, but the reform process takes time), I know how to best negotiate the steep incline without falling, and I know to leave the dog at home!
