My Very Own Baby Sally

Rylan has been reading the Dick and Jane books and I noticed that Baby Sally looks exactly like Presley. I wish I could find a better picture to prove it, but look at that blonde curly hair! They could be twins!

Speaking of Presley, several times this evening she would get upset and bang her forehead on the carpet. And then cry because it hurt. What on earth? Issues.

The Geek Made Good

Back in my junior/senior years of high school I had to pick up and drop off this total dork sophomore that was in my youth group. I can't remember why or who made the arrangement. Either my mom made me do it or there was money involved. But it was bad enough that I had to drive around in this 1985 two-toned gray Dodge Omni with the sagging maroon headliner (we're talking it would touch the top of your head!). No one wanted to ride to lunch with me. They all wanted to ride with my fun friend Jennifer, who drove a red LeBaron Convertible. I didn't want to ride with me.

But I digress.

The point is, I didn't need anymore help in feeling un-cool, and now I had to deal with this geek and I think his geek friend. I'm pretty sure I was totally stuck up and rude to them and probably made them get out of the car before we got to the student parking lot. I didn't possess the self-esteem to handle the situation with more grace during this chapter of my life.

Flash-forward 17 years later and I stumble upon this guy's website. He's a musician in Austin, singing and playing the guitar and looking, well, not geekish at all. Pretty darn cute actually. And in some of the pictures he's wearing True Religion jeans. He definitely graduated from Nerdville.

So who's laughing now? (Well, me, actually, because I can't get over the transformation!)

Hair Drama

I've always said that no matter how poor I may be, I will always have good hair and designer jeans. Even if it means selling plasma or something. I refuse to sacrifice in those two areas.

I'm great on jeans - I have built a decent collection over the years and it's what I usually get myself for Christmas. It's not just about the label on the butt pockets...and if you own nice jeans you will understand this...They just fit better. Much better. I can wear them with a $5 top from Old Navy and feel confident.

But hair. Every 7 weeks I get a little stressed about hair. I was not blessed with a shade that can be left alone to its own devices. No, I have to get highlights put in on a regular basis in order to be considered at all attractive. Dishwater blonde is not the stuff dreams are made of. And hair expenses add up.

Well, I thought I had found a way to get my highlights and cut done for $20, keeping both my hair values and budget in tact.

A lady I work with found this guy who was graduating from a renowned hair school and her cut and color looked fabulous. He had done a couple of other friends of hers and they had great results too. He only charges for the color since he is still in training.

I was supposed to have my regularly scheduled hair appointment two weeks ago but canceled it and booked this guy on that same date. Then, what do you know, two days beforehand the appointment got canceled. I can't even remember why. I was moved to the following Thursday. This was supposed to be in some fancy salon he got hired at where he was allowed to do his own hair on certain nights. I hated having to wait a few days, but okay.

Well, that got canceled too. Because, get this, after his Sunday afternoon appointments, he got called in and told (by the salon) that they didn't want him bringing in "those kind of people." They wanted more of the millionaire trophy wives sort of clientele. He couldn't stand the snobbishness of that place so he left, thus leaving him without a place to do my hair.

I was very upset that I had to go through the weekend with 2 inch roots. I had to help throw a baby shower on Sunday and I felt like I might as well be holding a cigarette and a can of beer as white trash as I looked with my two-toned hair. (I'm sure I just offended someone out there with that statement so I will apologize in advance. I didn't mean you.)

My appointment was rescheduled for a third time to today, back at the hair school. It was a for sure thing. I couldn't wait. My husband was taking a half day just so I could make the appointment.

I should mention that I'm a little emotionally fragile today. Not sure why, just feeling a little teary. Don't look at me the wrong way.

My co-worker (who has been doing all the scheduling for this hair guy) comes to my office and says, "What's the worst thing that could happen to you today?"

NOOOOOOOOO!

Yes.

The hair school did not have him scheduled and he will not be able to do my hair. He said he could do it at my house or at his apartment tonight. (Rylan has a soccer game. Husband is not crazy about this plan. I want to get my hair done in a FREAKING SALON!!! Is that so much to ask????)

I started bawling. I felt like such an idiot, it's only hair. But people, you have messed with my hair 3 TIMES now. I have had it!

I called my husband, still sobbing, and he told me to make the appointment with my normal hair stylist and forget this guy. So I did. And I know that when I show up Thursday afternoon that she will be there waiting for me.

I tried. I really did. I was willing to make the ultimate sacrifice. It just wasn't meant to be.

Out With The Old

One of the funny things about being away from a place for 5 years and then coming back is that you start realizing just how old some of your clothes are.


The older I get the longer I have the same clothes hanging in my closet, even though I swear I purge every season.


Today I'm wearing black pants and carrying a Coach purse - both of which I know I wore when I last worked here. I have several cute, still-in-style tops in my closet that I'm afraid to wear because I'm paranoid that someone will remember that I used to wear them over 5 years ago. I mean, I'm sure that everyone at this office makes mental notes about my outfits since they have nothing else to do, right?


One thing I definitely need to replace are both my black and brown boots. I think they are each about 7 years old. I say I'm going to get new ones every year. Instead I end up with some Cole Haan suede loafers that were on sale or some super cute silver flats. But these boots have got to go. I just hate spending money on boots - they are never cheap. But hey, if I'm going to wear them for the next seven years, maybe I can justify it!


The other funny thing about stepping back into my old place in history is seeing how people have aged. Yes, their kids have grown up and that is very weird, but my co-workers have all aged. And do you know what this means? I look old to them as well!


Do you ever catch yourself in the mirror and have to do a double-take because you just can't believe that the old lady in the mirror is really you? There are certain pictures I look at where it's not that I look bad, I just look older than I picture myself being.


I'm pretty sure it's almost time for me to begin researching my options on what the heck to do about these lines on the sides of my mouth. That's the thing that bugs me the most.


Did you see Cougar Town last night with Courtney Cox? I loved the beginning scene where she gets out of the shower and starts picking her body apart, pinching the strange extra skin around her elbow and pushing on her jiggly stomach and lifting her face up back to where it used to be. I love that she wasn't too vain to do that scene herself.


We all age, even beautiful Monica Gellar. And I'm okay with that. But I need to have some clothes/shoes/bags from this season to ease the process, thank you.

Mama Said Knock You Out

I never thought that I, a 5'2 petite southern Christian mother of two, could ever want to punch the snot out of another 5 year old kid.

I learned something new about myself today.

We were at Rylan's soccer game, the first one of the season, and out comes the opposing team. They all had spray painted orange Mohawks (some faux-hawks) and looked like a group to be reckoned with. (Or is the phrase not to be reckoned with? My brain is mushy right now). I'm not sure if they've been running two-a-days since June or what but the score was probably, I kid you not, 40-3.

They had their own bench and everything. Where did these kids come from? We're in the U6 league for crying out loud! A bunch of mini-Beckhams were doing circles around our little guys, some of who didn't even understand which direction to kick the ball.

So here's where things got ugly for me. This little orange haired number 6 (I swear the orange painted hair made him look ten times meaner) was out there talking crap to my kid. He went eye to eye with him and did his hand over the top of their heads to prove a point on how much taller he was. Then he just proceeded to trash talk the rest of the game.

My kid is no pushover. He talked right back. This kid shoved, we told him to shove back. And to shove harder.

Number 6 proceeded to bully every kid on our team while simultaneously kicking the ball up and down the field scoring goal after goal.

I really hated that kid.

I wanted to see who his parents were. Who his mom was. I wanted to give her a dirty look.

And then I realized, "Oh my gosh, what is wrong with me?"

I always heard these stories of parents getting ridiculous on the little league sports fields and I thought for sure I would never succumb to that kind of behavior. I mean, that's just absurd. Only hotheaded idiots do that.

But I really had to bite my tongue here. Okay, I didn't exactly bite it when talking to the other parents on our team about this kid and I sort of didn't mind if the other team happened to overhear, which really doesn't make me all that innocent.

Oh, and did I mention the part about how I do the administrative/behind-the-scenes work for a little league sports ministry at a church where we have all the parents sign a Parent Code of Ethics before each season? Um, yeah. I really should know better.

I'm thinking I'll be needing to read the part in James about "taming the tongue" before each game. Because there's just something about wanting to defend your child, no matter if the opponent has been alive for 5 short years or not.

Do. Not. Mess. With. My. Kid.

Here's a picture of what Number 6 is going to grow up to look like. Scut Farkus from A Christmas Story.

The Popcorn Book

Ahhh, Fall is in the air!

This is my favorite time of year. So nostalgic and melancholy. Pumpkin spice candles and toffee nut lattes. Fall festivals and pumpkin patches. High school football games on Friday nights. Lazy, gray Sunday afternoons, with my husband watching football and me curled up next to him reading a book.

I remembered this book from my childhood and wondered if anyone else had this as a kid. I'm going to order it off the internet - this is the perfect time of year for it. I think the original is out of print but they make mini-paperback version. The original sells on Amazon for as much as $186.00!

Here's the storyline. Sam the bear's parents left him alone on Halloween night to go to a party so he decides to throw a costume party of his own. All of his guests happen to bring the same thing: popcorn. They decide to pop all of the popcorn in one big black kettle, and then the entire house is filled with popcorn. The bears start eating up all the popcorn in order to clean up. Later that night after everyone has gone home, Sam's parents return with a gift for him: you guessed it, popcorn! As a child I thought this was absolutely hysterical.

I really wish that my mom could find our old copy, assuming it wasn't sold in a garage sale or lost in one of the moves. I call dibs on it. And I won't sell it on Amazon.

Overcommitted

A lot of people I know have a hard time saying "no."

I am not one of those people.

I knew going into this fall that our schedule would be busier than ever before. I thought I was prepared for it. I thought wrong.

Back in the old days, we never left the house after nap time or dinner, unless it was to do something fun like go to the park or make an ice cream run. Spur of the moment things that we were not required to do. And I liked it that way.

Now we have entered a new era. An era that I'm afraid will only cause our lives to be more and more spoken for. Rylan has soccer practice one night a week, games on Tuesdays, and games on Saturdays. And marital arts on Fridays.

I signed us up for Wednesday night Bible study because I can't go to Wednesday mornings anymore. I really wanted to be in it because they are doing Beth Moore's Daniel. It's from 6:30-8:00. It started tonight. We didn't go.

My "mom-tuition" spoke pretty strongly to me this afternoon. Seeing as how I do not see my children until I pick them up at 1:00 (I leave for work before they are awake), and then Presley takes a nap most of the afternoon, I just couldn't bring myself to drop her off again for another hour and a half this evening. And it's not just an hour and a half. It's "Here - hurry up and eat this dinner NOW! We don't have all night - EAT! We've got to go!!! Get in the bath - Now get your clothes back on. Speed it up! Get in the car!!!! We're late!!!"

And then we wouldn't get back home until 8:30 and now it's past bedtime.

No, I just didn't see us doing that now that the reality of the situation was upon us. I'll still get my workbook and try to do it on my own (meaning I'll finish it sometime by next summer), and I don't think God will mind one bit.

Oh, and I've already dropped the ball twice, no three times, on school preparation. Having Presley in two different classes is very confusing. She had "homework" due yesterday but I had in my head that it was for her Wednesday class. Then today she came home with the same "homework" for that class. So we have to do two of everything. And speaking of, when it's an All About Me page for a 2 year old and there's a blank face and it says to decorate it with materials you have on hand, what does that really mean? I can't seem to read between the lines. Does it mean, Mom, you draw the face and hair and get out all your craft supplies and do this thing up? Or does it mean give your toddler a crayon and let them go to town? I sort of went with both.

She was supposed to wear yellow for her class and I sent her in the only yellow outfit she has today. Cute little sundress with a yellow bow. Then I looked at the calendar this afternoon and saw that it was for tomorrow. Oops - we have no more yellow clothes. Crap.

I was 10 minutes late picking them up on Tuesday because if you can believe this I got lost on the way there. I tried going a different way from work and I made a wrong turn but didn't realize it until I had been driving for 20 minutes and ended up back where I started. Blond moment. I'm still not totally sure how that happened.

All in all things are good, we are adjusting well, but I'm just having to be more protective of our schedule. I also want to give myself props for leaving the house by 6:45am several days a week when I haven't been out of bed before 7am on most days in years. And even more props to my DH for getting the kids fed, dressed and off to school in one piece. I think we're going to make this crazy train work.

Oh yeah, one more thing I just remembered...On the way home from school today Rylan said, "Mommy, I wish you were in heaven. Then Daddy could take us to school everyday and never go to work." Out of the mouths of babes I tell you. So warm and fuzzy.

The Frustrating Five's

Whenever I found out I was having a boy, I admit that I was a little apprehensive. Boys make me very anxious with their hyper, rowdy ways and smelliness and dumb jokes and all the rest that make boys, boys.

I felt very fortunate that my son was not like this. He was super sweet and not on the aggressive side, as some of his playmates were. He was more interested in learning his letters and watching Super Why. I figured if I was going to have a boy, this was definitely the kind to have.

But then he grew up.

He turned five in July and now he is hyper, rowdy, smelly, tells dumb jokes all the livelong day, burps, constantly annoys his sister, and now begs to watch Sponge Bob and Spiderman instead of educational PBS Kids programming.

Don't get me wrong, he is still super sweet and very sensitive and caring. He tells me he loves me about twenty times a day, no exaggeration. However.

He has gone from being the kid that all the teachers dreamed of having, to being the one who this morning, as I picked him up from Sunday school and was made aware of some "challenges" that he presented by his lack of cooperation, the teacher told me in this kind of ugly tone, "Good luck." As in "Good luck with that brat of yours. You'll need it."

My kid doesn't do well with changes. He's in a new class now that also has a completely different format. He refused to participate in the class activities and I'm sure he was a little stinker (but I was a bit miffed at her choice of words). We had a major heart to heart with our little guy and he spent a good deal of time in his room thinking about his actions and I really think it will have an affect on him.

But oh my gosh, he is requiring so much more patience than I feel God has given me.

And while I'm venting, let me add this to the list. Presley (the two year old) will be perfectly content upstairs watching a show or playing with her toys, and I'll hear him saying (over and over until she reacts)..."Presley, Mommy's downstairs. Presley, don't you want to go find your Mommy? Presley, you're going to be all alone up here. Mommy's downstairs." So then of course she finally understands the urgency of the situation and starts crying for me.

This morning I'm trying to get ready for church and I hear, "Presley, do you want a drink? Do you want a drink? Presley, are you thirsty? Okay, go ask Mommy for a drink. Go ask Mommy. Mommy, Presley wants a drink."

This goes on about fifty times a day and it drives me insane.

One more story...
Last week he was picking on his sister and I got down on his level and told him that he had better quit right now. I said, "I'm going to give you one more shot, and then..." and as I was finishing whatever I was saying he started to completely fall apart, tears streaming down his face, and he says, "I DON'T WANT TO GET ANOTHER SHOT!!!"

Okay, poor choice of words. I'm giving you another chance. Chance, not a shot.

Although if they could come up with a way to make shots another form of discipline...that could maybe work for us...

Another Stranger-In-My-House Story

My Craigslist Stranger Incident from yesterday reminded me of another crazy thing that happened to me about five years ago when my eldest was just a few months old.

It was a weekday morning and I was sitting on the couch watching The View (back in the days when adult programming was actually on my television before 8:30p.m.). Rylan was upstairs taking a nap in the nursery.

All of a sudden this man walks into my house.

I jumped up off the couch and started slowly walking toward him yelling "GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!!! YOU DO NOT BELONG HERE!!! YOU NEED TO LEAVE!!!"

He said, "I'm just here to install the new carpet..."

And I said, "I'm not getting any new carpet, you need to leave NOW!"

So he turned around and left.

Turns out that my neighbor was having new carpet installed and her mom knew the carpet guy. My neighbor was going to be at work so they told him the house would be unlocked and to just walk on in. And he did - just to the wrong house.

I was super pleased with myself on how I handled the situation because you never really know how you'll react until it actually happens. Mama Bear came out and I was not going to let this man anywhere near my cub.

We also started making sure that we kept our doors locked at all times, even at 10am on a Tuesday morning.

Stranger Danger

I just had a very strange experience that could have gone very wrong.

I love Craigslist - I use it a few times a year. As a side note, I just tried eBay this month and totally shot myself in the foot because I way underestimated my shipping charges on both items I sold. So frustrating. And don't even get me started on my children's behavior at the post office. But I digress...

So I usually meet people at a public place like the Chick-fil-A parking lot in order to do the exchange. Once I had to have someone come to the house because the item was too large to fit in the car with kids and I knew my husband would be home anyway.

This morning I got an email for our Laugh n' Learn playhouse and it was from a grandma and her picture was on her email because she's a realtor. She asked if I would be home today and I replied back and said I'd be home between 2-4:30, did that work for her. I mean, it was a grandma so I felt like there wasn't much of a risk factor in having her come here.

I didn't get a response until around 2:00 when she asked if she could come get it. By that time I was desperately trying to get Presley to take a nap (to no avail, third time she's done that this week) and I was crazy tired and I wanted to lay down for a few minutes before responding to her that I was home. I was in the upstairs guest room with the fan on while the kids played in the game room and I did not hear the doorbell ring.

Oh, but my son did and he, despite our MANY conversations about this, answers it and invites the strange lady inside.

Then I hear him calling for me and I walk out and see this lady in my entryway.

It was the Craigslist lady and I'm all "Wha?" and mind you, I'm also half asleep. Very confused at this point.

She said she was sorry, she didn't know I was asleep, she just knew I said I'd be home during this time so she thought she'd swing by and pick up the toy. I was like, "How did you get my address? Because that kind of freaks me out that someone could get that."

She said that my full name popped up on my email and she looked me up on Superpages.com.

Well isn't that handy.

The kids had scattered all the little shapes and accessories that went with the playhouse (which I had planned to gather up BEFORE I met her for the exchange) so she stood there while I rushed around upstairs and down to get them all together.

Super nice lady, but oh my gosh, who does that?

You can imagine the talk I had with my five year old after she left. I honestly don't know what else to tell him. Any thoughts? I told him he's not allowed to answer the door to ANYONE now, even if it's his dad or grandmom. I'm the only one allowed to open the door.

And the other lesson here...In the future I'll be using a hotmail address that does not link to my real name. I'm not all that technically savvy so the thought never occurred to me that this could happen.

Dear Diary Days, Vol. 5

I just really don't have much to say these days. Busy with new (old) job and the kids starting school. So here's another Diary for you.

February 18, 1988
Dear Diary,
Guess What! I'm going with Evan White. We started today. He's in 5th grade, but he is fine. [I was in 6th grade so it was pretty scandalous to "go with" a younger man] He's very shy. I think he'll come out of it tomorrow. I really love him. Basketball is over. Saturday is the cheerleading clinic. Well, guess I better go.



March 15, 1988
D.D. ,
I know I haven't really been keeping you updated. Here's the basics:

1) I'm trying out for cheerleading

2) Growing Pains was moved to Wednesdays.

3) I broke up with Evan, and have a crush on Michael! [Evan's brother who was in my grade]

4) It's Spring Break, and we're going to Corpus Christi on Thursday.

5) Michael likes Amy and I, and doesn't know which to go with.

Kirk Cameron is not my favorite now. Jeremy Licht is fine!!! [Remember him from Hogan Family?]


Now #2 may seem insignificant, but I can assure you this was a huge deal. I had AWANAS (church) on Wednesday nights. Sure, we had a VCR, but things happened and sometimes it didn't record. Not quite as reliable as our DVR's. Maybe this is when I got off the Growing Pains bandwagon - I think that happened when they adopted that redhead girl. Shows always jump the shark when they go and adopt a kid. Remember Oliver on Brady Bunch? I rest my case.

Dear Diary Days, Vol. 4

Today we're coming at you from 1987, so I was about 12 years old in the 7th grade.

December 28, 1987

Dear Diary,
It's almost '88! I'm watching Win, Lose, or Draw. I have the board game also. They're both fun.

You should know that I like Kirk Cameron to the extreme. He's so fine, he's premo to the extremo! (a new phrase).

If I have kids, I will let them read my diary. I want them to know that I was a kid. I really want to see Three Men and a Baby. Mandy and I almost saw it. See, we planned to see Batteries not included at 12:30. Me and Mandy saw that Three Men and a Baby showed at 12:13. We saw that it was 12:10. We went ahead and saw *B.N.I.

I get to spend the night with Lori on New Years Eve and go to Holiday in the Park. The next day we're going to the mall. I can't wait. I'm reading the 7th Babysitters Club book. It's good and sad. Bye!

I really did love me some Kirk Cameron back in the day. Turns out he was actually a good pick - look at him now, total Christian family man! I remember a poster I had on my wall (one of many) where he was wearing a yellow suit with a turquoise shirt. Dreamy!


You know, that reminds me, I never did see Fireproof. Is it way cheesy?

Part-Time Rocks

I'm three days in to my new (old) job and so far I am loving it!

I walked in on Monday to a new office with my name already on the door, and there are still lots of familiar faces from when I was there five years ago. Most of my job responsibilities have stayed the same so there's not too much of a learning curve. But it's funny how things that I did in my sleep five years ago I'm having to really sit and think about how to do it now.

Part time is definitely the way to go for me. I love that I get to be Stephanie, the hard-working employee, in the mornings, and in the afternoons, I'm Rylan and Presley's Mommy.

This week has been interesting because the kids haven't started school yet so Daddy has been the one to stay home with them until about 1:30. Let's just say that when I get home the kids are still in their pj's, the little one is covered in markers/paint/food, and every surface in our house is a bit sticky. I don't ask a lot of questions. They had fun and I'm thankful he could be there.

But to give you a better picture, I came home on Monday and Presley was eating an ice cream bar out of a Tupperware bowl on the coffee table and smearing the melted ice cream all over the table and floor. Lovely. Then as the day went on I found pizza crusts, watermelon rinds, and lots of other fun goodies in every room of the house. Did they have a frat party over here or what?

Oh, and here's what happened to me this morning.

I'm on my way to work - I left at 7:10a.m. and I was so proud of myself for getting an early start. I'm praying out loud in my car, having a grand ole time, and I hit a school zone in kind of an industrial looking area. I was taking a new back route so I wasn't really familiar with it. Anyway, this big construction truck is in front of me so when I turned right at the stop light I kind of sped up to get around him. All of a sudden I see the back side of a school zone sign and I realize oops - the school zone was still in effect when I turned right. Crap. And then the police lights started flashing behind me. Perfect.

I truly thought I would get off with a warning, but no, I got a ticket. And since I completed my last defensive driving course on October 24th because of a stupid speed trap in Copper Canyon (on my way home from a Bible study, no less) I have to pay the whole $326. Now may I just say that the reason I am working is because we really need the money, not just so I can go on a shopping spree at Nordstroms (but a girl can dream). So basically, I am working this week and part of next just to pay for this stupid ticket which I would not have gotten if I wasn't going to work.

After I got the ticket the tears came, a little too late - maybe I should have begged and cried and I could've gotten that warning. But I'm like, Hello God, did you not just hear my prayers? I mean, really? Can't you help a sister out here? Because I'm really not feeling it! I mean, thanks a lot!

So that kind of dampened my day but what can you do. It got better when I ran into the human resources director and she said that just a few days before I had emailed my old co-worker to feel out what was going on around there these days (which is how this whole thing got started), she and my old boss and her boss were sitting around talking about how they wish they could hire me back - that I was the gold standard for that position!

I can't tell you how much that made my day. For the last 5 years I've just been "Mom." It was so great to know that people value me for other things, too. I feel like I've reconnected a little bit with the old, pre-mom me, and it feels pretty good. I would not trade my Mommy status for the entire universe but I think this is very healthy for me.

Oh, another bonus - since I haven't been with the kids all morning, it's not such a drag to play several rounds of Connect Four after I get home and my patience level with them has not been depleted. It's a win for everyone!