Another year has come and gone and it is time again to reflect on all the fortune that fills our lives. For me, I was hoping for that granite counter top, maybe an extra coupla thousand square feet..an ass like Shakira, but I guess I will have to settle for a beautiful, healthy and vibrant family who just happen to be in the living room right now with their Chinese fans doing an impression of Mama having a hot flash. Aw..good times. It's nice that the matriarch of the Mags garners such respect.
The yummy smell of cinnamon fills the casa this morning and my dear friend is on his way south to gobble with us over the weekend. I love the jump start my battery gets from the anticipation of the holidays. It is fuel for the exciting New Year ahead and it humbles me at the rejuvenating power of love and laughter and how golden my life truly is....If this big ole world is a stage and I am a player, then I guess I'm covered head to toe in Armani and just won that Oscar I've always wanted. Not quite two years ago at this time, my husband was fighting to live and live he did. He came back to the children and wife who love him and I will never ever forget that profound experience, those who shared it with me and the shroud of protection that wrapped me and mine up like a warm Snuggie. Life is an amazing gift and I am thankful for its beautiful song. Here goes-
I am thankful for my mother and father who at almost 90 still grace us with their presence and love. They've served to inspire me with their commitment to each other, to their children, and I am who I am because of them. For my sister, who is walking a difficult journey with me right now..at my side..giving me courage when I need it, a soft shoulder to cry on and a glass of wine when I'm just looking for an excuse to self-medicate. I could not do it without you. To my niece and great-niece, I wish you all the love and sunshine your lives can hold. To my in-laws, I wish you joy always.
I am thankful for my friends. You are the jewels in my crown, the sparkle in my gold lame Samba costume if I had one..you're a light, a gift to me. We've noshed, drank, cried, prayed & laughed together and I'm grateful for every darn bit of it. You've encouraged & inspired me and told me to grow up and get a grip when I needed to hear it. If one is defined by the company they keep, then I got it goin' on 'cuz my posse rocks, ya'll!
I pray for the military men and women who are not at the dinner table today with the people who love them. I pray for their safety and their hearts to stay strong, their bodies upright and for their faith to lift them wherever they may go.
And most of all..I am thankful for my two little girls who show me how to laugh with abandon and love deeply. You are the light within me and with your love there is nothing I can not do. To my husband who busts his hump..bigtime..so that I may spend every minute I can with them, and for that teensy-weensy dose of Zoloft that keeps me from killing an innocent bystander.
I am lifting my glass to all of you readers and pray wholeheartedly that peace and happiness surround you during this holiday season. May all of the photos that will be taken of you today, occur when you're sober and have no spinach in your teeth.
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Monday, November 9, 2009
Monday, November 2, 2009
night of the living mags
Another one has come and gone. Hallow's Eve 2009 didn't disappoint. We had mummies, we had ghosts and we even had a hot-footed devil. Yep, horn adorned Mama decided it was high time to lay down her pitchfork and raid the liquor cabinet after a two month long gym craze detox and found out rather quickly that Yellowtail and fire just don't mix. Would being organized and stocking matches in the utility drawer be so wrong? Apparently so. After having killed off a few more brain cells with the sis and niece over a nice dry pinot, I decided to spookify the joint with some candlelight. Who needs a Zippo when ya got a gas stove and a piece of scrunched up junk mail? As my digit began to burn, the vino suggested I could safely drop the homemade lighter on my tiled floor which in turn led to even more combustion which then resulted in a rather feisty riverdance by yours truly which in the end left a melted plastic boot which..oh, hell..you get the idea. Next thing I knew, I channeled Ann Miller and had my blazing tootsie in the kitchen sink. With very good extension might I add. I think the five day a week workouts I've been panting through have really paid off. That and the wise choice to wear my mom slacks with the mega pleats and nine inch zipper. It is pretty ironic after all the years I've spent with flamers, that I would end up being one myself.
The spooky weekend started off with a bang as the sis and I took the tykes to a school costume carnival. There were fangs and jack-o-lanterns galore and even an old fashioned cakewalk. We bowled, we skee-balled and screamed up a storm in a haunted house. We were the guinea pigs at the beginning of the line. And, unfortunately, with that advantage always comes a few little kinks that need to be worked out...and we Mags were just the peeps to do it. Freddy Kreuger missed his cue and me and my brood were left in pitch black darkness..literally..for about a minute and a half. As I was about to lose all effects from the Zoloft and the use of both of my rotator cuffs, a zombie came along with a flashlight just in the nick of time and saved the day...or should I say the night. The blackest of one. My four year old did sustain some permanent psychological damage but ended up deciding to go through a second time.
As if the two pounds of Reese's pieces weren't enough, we were at it again the next night. This time for our annual Mag Haunt party complete with cemetery cake and ghoul hand punch. Leave it Walmart to supply me some dud eyeballs that floated iris side down. Good grief. Am I ever gonna be able to buy anything from that store that works? Oy. The kids loved it though. Even the bloody mac-n-cheese that turned into a nauseating fuchsia glop had 'em smilin'. Kids are so easy to please. And thank God, because when ya have Mama Mags creating things...well, let's just say that I'm not the super-mom-arts-and-crafts-June Cleaver type. Nope, with me, it's more like just the Cleaver and not any of the June part. Which leads me to the girls costumes.
Yeah, just when you thought it couldn't get any more frightening, right? Much to the chagrin of seamstresses everywhere, I glued, sliced and diced my way through a mummy get-up and a ghost. Poor W.'s oxygen stats were pretty low most of the weekend due to her homemade mask and there was a wee bit o' redneck trouble regarding the back side of her wrapping. 'Just say no to crack' I would mumble to myself as she bent over to play all the carnival games. Then there was my little curly-top who kept tripping on what I like to call her 'ghost flippers' all night until she finally begged me through the tears to take it off of her. It was just like last years mermaid outfits...due to my ineptitude with the needle and thread, I always seem to have a leftover hunk of fabric at the bottom of whatever I'm making. By that point, I'm several bottles of wine in and too exhausted to care, so I just wad up the excess, tie it with a ribbon and invent a reason for why it should be there. Hey, I ain't no Edith Head, folks. Just an Ozark mama tryin' to do the best she can.
The universe was definitely on our side this Halloween, as our trip through the neighborhood was very pleasant- gorgeous, full moon..the weather, simply devine. We lost Big Daddy to work after a few minutes of trick-or-treating but he was able to see his little munchkins amble their way down the lane a time or two before he took off. After a brisk stroll of about an hour or so, the ghost had to pee, so we all began to work our way back to the casa. My bone tired sis' feet were ice cold, so I headed to the sock drawer while my O.C.D.'d niece turned on the 500 watt overhead light and went through the candy, sifting out all of the potential razor blades and rat poison. We then filled our bellies with homemade pumpkin soup and more booze, rinsed the chocolate off the kiddos and tucked them in. We big girls finished our evening on the sofa watching the old 1976 classic, "Carrie". Traci and I laughed at William Katt's lion mane and the fact that none of the prom attendees had any cell phones. Bleary-eyed and buzzed and right in the middle of the pig blood, telekinetic breakdown, I looked over at my snoring sis, all decked out in her Winnie the Pooh blanket and psychedelic toe socks. Now that's darn scary, ladies and gents.
Happy Halloween to all! And remember, any excuse to embrace our inner child and overdose on chocolate is always a good one.
The spooky weekend started off with a bang as the sis and I took the tykes to a school costume carnival. There were fangs and jack-o-lanterns galore and even an old fashioned cakewalk. We bowled, we skee-balled and screamed up a storm in a haunted house. We were the guinea pigs at the beginning of the line. And, unfortunately, with that advantage always comes a few little kinks that need to be worked out...and we Mags were just the peeps to do it. Freddy Kreuger missed his cue and me and my brood were left in pitch black darkness..literally..for about a minute and a half. As I was about to lose all effects from the Zoloft and the use of both of my rotator cuffs, a zombie came along with a flashlight just in the nick of time and saved the day...or should I say the night. The blackest of one. My four year old did sustain some permanent psychological damage but ended up deciding to go through a second time.
As if the two pounds of Reese's pieces weren't enough, we were at it again the next night. This time for our annual Mag Haunt party complete with cemetery cake and ghoul hand punch. Leave it Walmart to supply me some dud eyeballs that floated iris side down. Good grief. Am I ever gonna be able to buy anything from that store that works? Oy. The kids loved it though. Even the bloody mac-n-cheese that turned into a nauseating fuchsia glop had 'em smilin'. Kids are so easy to please. And thank God, because when ya have Mama Mags creating things...well, let's just say that I'm not the super-mom-arts-and-crafts-June Cleaver type. Nope, with me, it's more like just the Cleaver and not any of the June part. Which leads me to the girls costumes.
Yeah, just when you thought it couldn't get any more frightening, right? Much to the chagrin of seamstresses everywhere, I glued, sliced and diced my way through a mummy get-up and a ghost. Poor W.'s oxygen stats were pretty low most of the weekend due to her homemade mask and there was a wee bit o' redneck trouble regarding the back side of her wrapping. 'Just say no to crack' I would mumble to myself as she bent over to play all the carnival games. Then there was my little curly-top who kept tripping on what I like to call her 'ghost flippers' all night until she finally begged me through the tears to take it off of her. It was just like last years mermaid outfits...due to my ineptitude with the needle and thread, I always seem to have a leftover hunk of fabric at the bottom of whatever I'm making. By that point, I'm several bottles of wine in and too exhausted to care, so I just wad up the excess, tie it with a ribbon and invent a reason for why it should be there. Hey, I ain't no Edith Head, folks. Just an Ozark mama tryin' to do the best she can.
The universe was definitely on our side this Halloween, as our trip through the neighborhood was very pleasant- gorgeous, full moon..the weather, simply devine. We lost Big Daddy to work after a few minutes of trick-or-treating but he was able to see his little munchkins amble their way down the lane a time or two before he took off. After a brisk stroll of about an hour or so, the ghost had to pee, so we all began to work our way back to the casa. My bone tired sis' feet were ice cold, so I headed to the sock drawer while my O.C.D.'d niece turned on the 500 watt overhead light and went through the candy, sifting out all of the potential razor blades and rat poison. We then filled our bellies with homemade pumpkin soup and more booze, rinsed the chocolate off the kiddos and tucked them in. We big girls finished our evening on the sofa watching the old 1976 classic, "Carrie". Traci and I laughed at William Katt's lion mane and the fact that none of the prom attendees had any cell phones. Bleary-eyed and buzzed and right in the middle of the pig blood, telekinetic breakdown, I looked over at my snoring sis, all decked out in her Winnie the Pooh blanket and psychedelic toe socks. Now that's darn scary, ladies and gents.
Happy Halloween to all! And remember, any excuse to embrace our inner child and overdose on chocolate is always a good one.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Friday, October 16, 2009
free fallin'
It is my favorite time of year. Mums, jackets and pumpkins in every shape and size. The Patch delivered again and we had a great time yesterday. The weather was absolutely gorgeous and the hay was as itchy as ever. We rolled 'em, we thumped 'em and we bought 'em. Now all Daddy has to do is perform his Edward Scissorhand magic and give his girls a Cinderella and a Dracula. With bats, of course. There were barrel rides, gourd rolling and this claustrophobe's nightmare- a hay tunnel. We even made our way through a corn maze of dead-ends and giggles. Thank goodness Big Daddy was along because I have no sense of direction and may have still been in there this morning.
The sunlight on those red maple leaves and that crisp breath of autumn air made a tiny moment- magnificent, for me. Whenever I question my place in this world, it is within these times, I find my rhythm. And with it, my way.
I forget sometimes through all the bill wrangling and tussling with the daily drag, just how lucky I've been to savor all the simple joy my kids have brought to my life. This gift has been a rebirth of sorts and in the years to come, I will look back on these times as the dearest, the deepest....fuel for what I pray will be many golden years of reflection. We all know our truest happiness aren't things, but perhaps it's secret lies simply in a whiff of wood smoke, the veins of a leaf or sitting on a hay bale with Dad.
The sunlight on those red maple leaves and that crisp breath of autumn air made a tiny moment- magnificent, for me. Whenever I question my place in this world, it is within these times, I find my rhythm. And with it, my way.
I forget sometimes through all the bill wrangling and tussling with the daily drag, just how lucky I've been to savor all the simple joy my kids have brought to my life. This gift has been a rebirth of sorts and in the years to come, I will look back on these times as the dearest, the deepest....fuel for what I pray will be many golden years of reflection. We all know our truest happiness aren't things, but perhaps it's secret lies simply in a whiff of wood smoke, the veins of a leaf or sitting on a hay bale with Dad.
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Thursday, October 1, 2009
then to now
Happy 64 years together, Mom and Dad! Your love and commitment have been a testament to me and all who know you...
Friday, September 25, 2009
september grass
By John Sheldon
Vocals- James Taylor
Well, the sun's not so hot in the sky today
And I can see summertime slipping on away
A few more geese gone, a few more leaves turning red
But the grass is as soft as a feather in a featherbed, oh darlin'..
So I'll be king and you'll be queen
Our kingdom's gonna be this little patch of green
Won't you lie down with me right now
In this september grass
Won't you lie down with me now
September grass
Oh, the memory is like the sweetest pain
Yeah, I kissed the girl at a football game
I can still smell the sweat and the grass stain
We walked home together. I was never the same.
But that was a long time ago
And where is she now? ..Oh, I don't know
Won't you lie down here right now
In this september grass
Won't you lie down with me now
September grass
Oh, september grass is the sweetest kind
It goes down easy like apple wine
Hope you don't mind if I pour you some
Made that much sweeter by the winter to come
Do you see those ants dancing on a blade of grass?
Do you know what I know?..thats you and me, baby, yes it is..
We're so small and the worlds so vast
We found each other down in the grass
Won't you lie down with me right here
September grass
Won't you lie down with me now
In this september grass
Lie down
Lie down
Lie down
Lie down
Won't you lie down here right now
In this september grass
Won't you lie down here now
In this september grass
Vocals- James Taylor
Well, the sun's not so hot in the sky today
And I can see summertime slipping on away
A few more geese gone, a few more leaves turning red
But the grass is as soft as a feather in a featherbed, oh darlin'..
So I'll be king and you'll be queen
Our kingdom's gonna be this little patch of green
Won't you lie down with me right now
In this september grass
Won't you lie down with me now
September grass
Oh, the memory is like the sweetest pain
Yeah, I kissed the girl at a football game
I can still smell the sweat and the grass stain
We walked home together. I was never the same.
But that was a long time ago
And where is she now? ..Oh, I don't know
Won't you lie down here right now
In this september grass
Won't you lie down with me now
September grass
Oh, september grass is the sweetest kind
It goes down easy like apple wine
Hope you don't mind if I pour you some
Made that much sweeter by the winter to come
Do you see those ants dancing on a blade of grass?
Do you know what I know?..thats you and me, baby, yes it is..
We're so small and the worlds so vast
We found each other down in the grass
Won't you lie down with me right here
September grass
Won't you lie down with me now
In this september grass
Lie down
Lie down
Lie down
Lie down
Won't you lie down here right now
In this september grass
Won't you lie down here now
In this september grass
Saturday, September 19, 2009
drama mama
Well, I guess it's time to edit the ole blog header- it looks like I'm gonna need to add yet another "m" to my ongoing Mag Mama madness. Not only is yours truly bravely going beyond motherhood and mid-life, but now this poor gal has got a big sloppy helping of menopause on her saggy Dixie plate. Yep, it is official, friends. As if my granny underwear and Icy Hot patches weren't bad enough, I have been diagnosed with "the change". Lovely. And ya know..only a man would call it that. Change is somethin' you get back when you buy a candy bar, gentlemen. Nah...this is more like the bloody jowls of Cerberus gnashing at my heels with O Fortuna on the soundtrack. In high def, blu-ray and Dolby.
Yes, Mama has paid a little visit to Six Flags Over Manic Mountain and it has nothin' to do with funnel cake and good times. I've boarded a scary estrogenic roller coaster that's leaving me holding on to the t-bar for dear life, refusing to John Hancock my husband's divorce papers and hoping like hell no one will call DHS. And it could not have happened at a worse time. I am fully booked with school fundraisers, flash cards and play dates. That's what I get for for being so cocky with Mommy Nature, I guess. I thought I was sooo slick..pullin' the ole reproductive switcheroo, high fivin' it and doing the "dusty old eggs still got it white girls overbite" dance. Yeah, right. Little did I know. Many of my pals have wisely already been there and done that in the rug rat dept., and are now getting to reward themselves with things like the Sunday paper, mani-pedis..the Bravo channel. Or at least are able to clamor their way through the hormone hell by themselves in a peaceful empty nest. Meanwhile, I'm wiping noses, crying over Campbells commercials and having hot flashes at the Jump Zone.
Along with snarfing black cohosh and locking the liquor cabinet, I am doing everything I can to ride this elevated luteinizing wave without going postal on somebody's ass. I joined a local gym, only to have my worst nightmare realized- Fox News and ESPN on the monitors. I just can't seem to win these days. It is here I spend Monday through Friday a.m., flat on my back, puffing away, doing crunchy after crunchy with the American flag waving above me and Metallica shakin' it on the speakers. This morning, my gut was so friggin' full of lactic acid, I almost had to grab Old Glory to pull myself up. But I refrained and 15 minutes later I was back up on my feet doing a set of excruciating reps on what appeared to be a love swing, but realized after watching some really hunky guy who could have been my son, that it was just for abs.
The good news is that my pig-tailed babies are both ensconced in school now, acclimating well and are as happy as clams. It's a shame that Mama's three hour stretch of time to herself has turned out to be on the painful, achy side. It sure would be nice to maybe sit back..sip a latte, have uninhibited sex with my husband or even amble around a mall. Well, now, now....I guess I can and will be able to do all the above..eventually, but first things first- I have to open up a can of whoop ass on the Pillbury Doughboy who has has seemingly stolen my identity.
Yes, Mama has paid a little visit to Six Flags Over Manic Mountain and it has nothin' to do with funnel cake and good times. I've boarded a scary estrogenic roller coaster that's leaving me holding on to the t-bar for dear life, refusing to John Hancock my husband's divorce papers and hoping like hell no one will call DHS. And it could not have happened at a worse time. I am fully booked with school fundraisers, flash cards and play dates. That's what I get for for being so cocky with Mommy Nature, I guess. I thought I was sooo slick..pullin' the ole reproductive switcheroo, high fivin' it and doing the "dusty old eggs still got it white girls overbite" dance. Yeah, right. Little did I know. Many of my pals have wisely already been there and done that in the rug rat dept., and are now getting to reward themselves with things like the Sunday paper, mani-pedis..the Bravo channel. Or at least are able to clamor their way through the hormone hell by themselves in a peaceful empty nest. Meanwhile, I'm wiping noses, crying over Campbells commercials and having hot flashes at the Jump Zone.
Along with snarfing black cohosh and locking the liquor cabinet, I am doing everything I can to ride this elevated luteinizing wave without going postal on somebody's ass. I joined a local gym, only to have my worst nightmare realized- Fox News and ESPN on the monitors. I just can't seem to win these days. It is here I spend Monday through Friday a.m., flat on my back, puffing away, doing crunchy after crunchy with the American flag waving above me and Metallica shakin' it on the speakers. This morning, my gut was so friggin' full of lactic acid, I almost had to grab Old Glory to pull myself up. But I refrained and 15 minutes later I was back up on my feet doing a set of excruciating reps on what appeared to be a love swing, but realized after watching some really hunky guy who could have been my son, that it was just for abs.
The good news is that my pig-tailed babies are both ensconced in school now, acclimating well and are as happy as clams. It's a shame that Mama's three hour stretch of time to herself has turned out to be on the painful, achy side. It sure would be nice to maybe sit back..sip a latte, have uninhibited sex with my husband or even amble around a mall. Well, now, now....I guess I can and will be able to do all the above..eventually, but first things first- I have to open up a can of whoop ass on the Pillbury Doughboy who has has seemingly stolen my identity.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Friday, September 11, 2009
first day
Happy school beginnings, my sweet. Your radiance and laughter fill me....now my mornings go quiet. As I watch you spread your wings, even if it's just a bit, it makes me so proud and eager to see how your blossom will unfold. Love you oodles. Now, I think I'll fix myself a little martini.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Saturday, August 29, 2009
We are burying a good man today. Sleep well, Mr. Kennedy. White roses, Placido, Yo-Yo Ma and songs of love & admiration from your children...an exquisite send off.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Edward Kennedy's speech at the 2004
Democratic National Convention
To my fellow delegates and my fellow Democrats...
Democratic National Convention
To my fellow delegates and my fellow Democrats...
Thursday, August 20, 2009
napalm in the morning
I made it out in one piece, lades and germs. The sun is setting on another summer. Well, almost..anyway. My oldest, poised with a number two in hand, is settling into Grade One ever so nicely, 
and my youngest whipper snapper has just 21 days and nine hours until she Montessori’s herself up for half day. Can ya tell, I'm just a wee bit excited to have three whole hours completely to myself after six long years? Ahhh..numbers. Sweet numbers. It is the little things in life, folks. Well, no, not really, I guess. Ultimately, it would be a million dollar lotto win and a villa on Lake Como that would make it all complete, but I'll just have to settle for my five blissful mornings. All alone. At the gym..at Target..at a bar..hey, wait a minute..at wherever the frick I want to be! Yeehaw and Hallelujah. It's been a long time comin'. Calgon is finally showing me a little love and takin' me away.
Overall, the dog days of 2009 were well spent and I think my babies had a good one. We did some dollar movies, princess ballet camp, a nice Gulf Shores va-cay, some Jon and Kate reruns until they split up and turned into white trash...even had some Chinese acrobatic Branson glitz (that place may get seven million visitors a year but I still say it needs a little less Jim Stafford and a little more hooch and gambling before I'd be motivated to visit again) and quite a few sweaty, warm cheese sandwich days spent at the park. My fave season of the orange leaves is just around the corner, and I think this year-around school schedule is going to suit Mama just fine. For all us, boozy, worn out, middle-aged mommies who just can't keep up the razzle dazzle river dance of entertaining two short spastic ferret people for three long stretching months, it seems a good fit and the only way to go. Of course, it will take a while to find our rhythm, but between all the screaming, caffeine, bickering over fashion and the haulage of two rug rats, to two different schools, seven miles apart with two 8am call times....we'll find our way through the smoke, eventually. Just stay low to the floor and cover your mouth, kids.
Yes, we've laughed a little, we've cried a little and then we broke our arm. That was about the biggest ta-doo of our solstice siesta. My T. just got her cast off after an "awful long, long time of days with no swimming, Mama!"
I had promised the little tyke, I'd let her dunk in the pool right after its said removal, and that's just what we did. I'd never seen a poor kid so liberated. That newly healed summer sausage limb was flapping and splashing like a hooked eel. At the end of the day, she practically had a Sybil breakdown when I told her it was time to wrap up shop and head home. After a half bottle of Dawn, I still can't get the smell off of her arm though. Oy. The nurse asked me if I wanted to keep the cast. Uh..right. That's just what my memory box needs..a purple, lady bugged, moldy, stank machine that's gonna cost me a five hundred dollar co-pay. Good times. I realize now that the choice I made to let her play Pocahontas with her sissy in the dirt pile down the street was not a wise one.
On a more fragrant note though, my W. got her first bike this glorious ete and could not have looked cuter- all Pink Derbied up in her tutu, helmet and pads. As my old pal, Kim, says, "Precious and able to kick your ass".
A coupla good attributes for all us gals, right? And a big no thank you goes out to my clearance special, five dollar training wheels as my darling managed to careen over the sidewalk, ricochet off of the neighbor's mailbox and end up in a Barbie glam heap on the street..all within the first five minutes of mounting the thing, mind you. Okay, so maybe I won't have a sporty Lance Armstrong in my motherly future. As long as she racks up a PhD in neuro-science, that will suit me just fine.
Our wild and crazy summer is coming to a nice close on a twelve year anniversary overnighter with the hub to see my beloved Kathy Griffin. Nothing like an open air venue, foul language and Olsen twin jokes to get you chuckling just in time for Fall. This is only the second 'sleepover' for Dad and I and we couldn't be jollier about it. Of course, it is coinciding with Mama's dry-out...so that part of it's not so fun. Yes, you read it right. I am five sober weeks in and counting through my Big Cleanse. Yep, I have chosen to take the high road, friends. Not as in drunk but as in ridding my precious temple of a body of all sulphites and impurities. Only the gym, Soy Joys and Perrier for me. This old gal is tee-totally determined to get rid of the end table she's had on her backside for the last year...re-energizing both body and carb-stuffing soul. And while I'm at it, I even plan on picking myself up a Pointer Sis-ta new attitude. Oh, yeah, it's high time for some me time. This manic mama is all about re-focusing, de-stressing and armoring herself up for battle because between my hormones and the Walmart greeters, life can be pretty damn hairy. Yesiree, boys and girls, flash forward in a couple of months...the only muffin top I'm gonna have is the one I eat for breakfast.
and my youngest whipper snapper has just 21 days and nine hours until she Montessori’s herself up for half day. Can ya tell, I'm just a wee bit excited to have three whole hours completely to myself after six long years? Ahhh..numbers. Sweet numbers. It is the little things in life, folks. Well, no, not really, I guess. Ultimately, it would be a million dollar lotto win and a villa on Lake Como that would make it all complete, but I'll just have to settle for my five blissful mornings. All alone. At the gym..at Target..at a bar..hey, wait a minute..at wherever the frick I want to be! Yeehaw and Hallelujah. It's been a long time comin'. Calgon is finally showing me a little love and takin' me away. Overall, the dog days of 2009 were well spent and I think my babies had a good one. We did some dollar movies, princess ballet camp, a nice Gulf Shores va-cay, some Jon and Kate reruns until they split up and turned into white trash...even had some Chinese acrobatic Branson glitz (that place may get seven million visitors a year but I still say it needs a little less Jim Stafford and a little more hooch and gambling before I'd be motivated to visit again) and quite a few sweaty, warm cheese sandwich days spent at the park. My fave season of the orange leaves is just around the corner, and I think this year-around school schedule is going to suit Mama just fine. For all us, boozy, worn out, middle-aged mommies who just can't keep up the razzle dazzle river dance of entertaining two short spastic ferret people for three long stretching months, it seems a good fit and the only way to go. Of course, it will take a while to find our rhythm, but between all the screaming, caffeine, bickering over fashion and the haulage of two rug rats, to two different schools, seven miles apart with two 8am call times....we'll find our way through the smoke, eventually. Just stay low to the floor and cover your mouth, kids.
Yes, we've laughed a little, we've cried a little and then we broke our arm. That was about the biggest ta-doo of our solstice siesta. My T. just got her cast off after an "awful long, long time of days with no swimming, Mama!"
I had promised the little tyke, I'd let her dunk in the pool right after its said removal, and that's just what we did. I'd never seen a poor kid so liberated. That newly healed summer sausage limb was flapping and splashing like a hooked eel. At the end of the day, she practically had a Sybil breakdown when I told her it was time to wrap up shop and head home. After a half bottle of Dawn, I still can't get the smell off of her arm though. Oy. The nurse asked me if I wanted to keep the cast. Uh..right. That's just what my memory box needs..a purple, lady bugged, moldy, stank machine that's gonna cost me a five hundred dollar co-pay. Good times. I realize now that the choice I made to let her play Pocahontas with her sissy in the dirt pile down the street was not a wise one. On a more fragrant note though, my W. got her first bike this glorious ete and could not have looked cuter- all Pink Derbied up in her tutu, helmet and pads. As my old pal, Kim, says, "Precious and able to kick your ass".
A coupla good attributes for all us gals, right? And a big no thank you goes out to my clearance special, five dollar training wheels as my darling managed to careen over the sidewalk, ricochet off of the neighbor's mailbox and end up in a Barbie glam heap on the street..all within the first five minutes of mounting the thing, mind you. Okay, so maybe I won't have a sporty Lance Armstrong in my motherly future. As long as she racks up a PhD in neuro-science, that will suit me just fine. Our wild and crazy summer is coming to a nice close on a twelve year anniversary overnighter with the hub to see my beloved Kathy Griffin. Nothing like an open air venue, foul language and Olsen twin jokes to get you chuckling just in time for Fall. This is only the second 'sleepover' for Dad and I and we couldn't be jollier about it. Of course, it is coinciding with Mama's dry-out...so that part of it's not so fun. Yes, you read it right. I am five sober weeks in and counting through my Big Cleanse. Yep, I have chosen to take the high road, friends. Not as in drunk but as in ridding my precious temple of a body of all sulphites and impurities. Only the gym, Soy Joys and Perrier for me. This old gal is tee-totally determined to get rid of the end table she's had on her backside for the last year...re-energizing both body and carb-stuffing soul. And while I'm at it, I even plan on picking myself up a Pointer Sis-ta new attitude. Oh, yeah, it's high time for some me time. This manic mama is all about re-focusing, de-stressing and armoring herself up for battle because between my hormones and the Walmart greeters, life can be pretty damn hairy. Yesiree, boys and girls, flash forward in a couple of months...the only muffin top I'm gonna have is the one I eat for breakfast.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
a friend in faith
As you travel through into another life time, I am confident that the lantern of faith will serve to guide you safely and surely. Thank you for your wisdom, guidance and opening your home to me when I needed it most. When my little girl came into the world six years ago, she was given so many beautiful things. I would often wonder which one of them would end up being the dearest..comforting her through the tears and sharing in all her smiles. That pal became your Lady. Her ears are worn now and her collar gone..from all the love and pats. Last night after hearing of your passing, I held you in my prayers and then tucked in my sleepy child. I went to look for her favorite 'stuffie' and found it resting quietly on my pillow. It was a wink, a wave, a smile...a small part of you signing off to me. Rest well and come back with spirited boundless joy, Sandy! We will miss you.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
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