Year: 2010

  • The unfairness of it all

    I feel like this week has been a big blur of school and alarm clocks and packing lunches and heating up Eggo waffles. It’s hard to get back in a routine and I am just a little bit exhausted. So I’m going to share a few quick things and call it a day. Or a blog post. Or whatever.

    1. I came home yesterday afternoon to discover that P had finished the bag of pretzel M&M’s. I went through the seven stages of grief and ultimately decided it was probably for the best. He can afford to eat an entire bag of M&M’s in one sitting because he can drop fifteen pounds in a week if he just mentions he might eat some baked fish for dinner.

    It’s not fair.

    2. I mentioned this on Twitter yesterday because I couldn’t contain my excitement. Gulley and I ran in Gap just to check things out and they had their yoga pants on sale for $9.99. I would have bought a pair for every day of the week but they only had one pair left in my size.

    It’s not fair.

    3. I’ve recently become addicted to Angry Bird on my iPhone. I’d played it a few times before but became frustrated when I got to level 10 and couldn’t get past it. But while we were at the beach, W told me that you can tap on the screen and the little gray birds turn into three separate birds. I’m not sure why I didn’t know that. Needless to say, that piece of information has revolutionized my Angry Bird abilities. However, I’m currently stuck on a new level and all the screen-tapping in the world doesn’t seem to be helping.

    It’s not fair.

    4. I’m leaving on Friday morning for Richmond, VA for a Living Proof Live Event with Beth Moore. I just realized that sentence makes it sound like I’m leaving for Virginia with Beth Moore. We’re not actually flying there together or anything. I’ll just hear her speak once I get there. Anyway, I’m excited about it.

    And the forecast shows that the high temps will only be in the low 80’s on Saturday. I’m planning to pack a sweater to ward off the chill. How come they get that kind of weather and it’s still 100 degrees here?

    It’s not fair.

    Although the cold front that blew violently into town on Tuesday afternoon dropped the temps from 106 to the high 90’s. I never knew 97 degrees could feel so refreshing.

    5. Caroline has decided she’d like me to curl her hair every morning. I’m thrilled by her new hair aspirations and I don’t mind curling it, except for the fact that she never stops moving the entire time. It’s like trying to curl the hair of a Persian cat on amphetamines. And it doesn’t help that I’m still a little groggy at 7:15 a.m.

    The good news is it appears her hair can hold a curl all day long in spite of the massive humidity.

    I’d like to say it’s not fair, but, honestly, I’m thrilled for her hair success. Even if she won’t really appreciate it for many years to come.

    I’ll be back tomorrow and there’s a 64% chance I’m going to take the plunge and discuss fall trends.

  • Some days at the beach

    I can sum up my day in two words:

    Pretzel M&M’s.

    Sophie mentioned them a few days ago and I’d just seen them that morning at Office Max. They seemed to be the culmination of every PMS dream I’ve ever had and I finally bought a bag at HEB. I never knew heaven had a taste.

    The unfortunate thing is that I’ve spent most of the summer vowing my workout and eating healthy regimen would begin again as soon as school started. So I’m going to have to eat the pretzel M&M’s in moderation.

    Right.

    It reminds me of a story my family used to tell about my oldest cousin. When she was a little girl and got in trouble for doing something wrong she immediately began to wail, “But just yesterday I gave my heart to Jesus.”

    That’s kind of how I feel about the pretzel M&M’s. Just yesterday I gave my heart to pursuing some physical fitness goals.

    It’s going to take some willpower.

    Mainly because we spent most of last week at the beach. The beach experience isn’t complete for me unless it includes Fritos and bean dip. And apparently a variety pack of Corn Nuts. I didn’t even realize that was an odd thing to haul down to the beach until my friend E looked in the pantry and asked, “Who in your family can’t live without Corn Nuts for four days?”

    That would be me. Not on normal days, just beach days.

    That makes it better.

    Anyway, early in the summer, our friends W and E invited us to come stay at the beach house they’d rented for a week. They also invited our friends Cat and Dave and we were all excited to get to spend a few days together with our kids.

    So last Thursday we loaded up P’s truck, along with the Polaris and everything else we own, and headed to Port Aransas for a long weekend. I’m not kidding when I say we looked like the Clampetts, but not as refined.

    When I went to HEB on Wednesday to buy groceries for the trip, my cart was so full that the bag boy asked if I had a lot of kids. Yes. Yes I do. Kids who eat a lot of Corn Nuts. The back seat of the truck was piled so high with groceries that every time P made a right turn I was concerned Caroline might get knocked out by a rogue can of bean dip.

    As soon as we got down there, we hit the beach. And look! We upgraded our accommodations this year!

    Granted, it still looked a little like a refugee camp, but it was an improvement over last year’s tarp held up with rusted rebar. What I really wish I could show you is the moment the brown canopy caught a big gust of wind and began flying down the beach. We watched with a mix of horror and wonder, yet no one thought to grab their camera.

    The fun thing about the trip, other than the canopy flying with reckless abandon down the beach, was that we’ve known W and Dave since they were fifteen years old and began attending a weekly Bible study that P led after he came back to San Antonio from College Station. And we’ve known Cat since she was about ten. We first met E six years ago when she visited the ranch with some friends who thought she might be a good match for W. Is any of this making sense?

    The bottom line is that we’ve watched them all grow up, become real people, fall in love, get married and have babies. And now we’re just all friends that take vacations together.

    And watch our kids dig big holes in the sand.

    So that they can make a baby pool for one of the littlest ones.

    Shortly after, they crashed her pool party and she decided to make a getaway.

    To go in search of bigger and better things.

    There were water fights.

    And trucks.

    And running down the beach.

    And much borrowing of Caroline’s fancy goggles to make a fashion statement.

    The majority of the time I looked up from my lounge chair and magazine, I saw Caroline attached like a little sea monkey to her daddy.

    The fish we caught weren’t quite as impressive as the sharks we caught last year.

    And by we, I mean P. I don’t really believe in putting bait on a hook and heading out to become part of the oceanic food chain.

    It was the perfect way to end the summer. Friends, laughter, sun, Fritos, bean dip, Corn Nuts, sun and seaweed.

    And jumping because we were just so happy to be there.

    (This is how I’ll always remember Caroline at age 7. All arms and legs. All energy. All the time.)

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    There is a new Kellogg’s post up on my giveaway page. Click over there to leave a comment for a chance to win $100 gift card.

  • Second grade

    Well the first thing I need to tell you is that I found my power cord after an exhaustive search. And it wasn’t in the trash which I’m going to claim as a victory. Instead, it was safely tucked away in an outside pocket of my suitcase. A pocket I didn’t even know existed except for apparently I did because I decided it was a good place to put my power cord when we left for the beach last Thursday. Honestly, I don’t even know why I checked my suitcase one last time, but I think it was related to the sheer agony I felt every time I thought about doling out $80 for something I already owned.

    But, now! Just think of all the cute stuff I can buy with the $80 I saved by finding my power cord in my suitcase. It’s like I just found free money.

    (I’m not sure why my version of economics frustrates P so much. Clearly, it’s very sound and logical)

    In other news, Caroline had her first day of school yesterday and it turns out she was totally ready for second grade.

    And it turns out that I wasn’t.

    I truly thought I was ready. We got home from the beach on Sunday afternoon, packed and labeled all the school supplies we bought a month ago, and discussed what she wanted in her lunch the next day. We’d even gone through her closet trying to find an appropriate first day of school outfit that we both deemed acceptable. The whole wardrobe issue was filled with drama and tension and “WHY DON’T I HAVE MORE CLOTHES WITH SEQUINS?!”, but we ultimately reached a compromise. However, in the end, I should have just dressed her in sackcloth and ashes to match her pathetic mama who spent the rest of the day after drop-off in a state of mourning and wailing and hand-wringing.

    P woke us up about 6:45 and I staggered into the kitchen to fry an egg and heat up a frozen waffle. Caroline ran in her room to get dressed and brush her teeth, then came back out holding her hairbrush and asked if I’d curl her hair with a curling iron. So I meticulously curled her hair only to have her decide it was too poufy and request that I pull it back in a ponytail even though P tried to convince her that the humidity would cause it to fall after about two minutes outside. (How much do I love P and his ability to be in touch with the issues that face women?)

    By the time I finally got her dressed and ready, I had approximately twenty-eight seconds to pull my hair back and throw on the first thing I found. We walked to her new classroom, met her teacher, kissed Caroline goodbye and headed back home. As soon as we walked in the back door, P took one look at me and said, “You’ll feel better after a good cry”. And then I just fell apart like a big old sentimental sap that I would have totally made fun of less than ten years ago because PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER, NANCY. IT’S SECOND GRADE, NOT VIETNAM.

    I’m not sure why second grade hit me so hard. I have theories that involve things like getting a teacher that we don’t really know anything about, only knowing one other child in the class, and the way Caroline seemed so apprehensive when she kissed P and me goodbye, but I think the ultimate cause may be more related to the perfect storm of getting home from a fabulous trip to the beach, my ever present hormonal fluctuations, and OH MY WORD MY BABY IS A SECOND GRADER AND I’M NOT SURE HOW THIS HAPPENED AND I AM GOING TO NEED TIME TO STOP IT.

    Because when I picked her up yesterday afternoon, she could not have been happier. She hugged her old friend and a new friend goodbye and strolled to the car while announcing it had been a great day. Although she did tell me that during reading time she traded books with one of the other kids in the class because the teacher didn’t say they couldn’t trade books. But then her teacher said they couldn’t trade books with each other and Caroline told me, “I wanted to tell her, ‘Then you should have told us that in the first place, GIRL’.” Which probably would have been an opportune time to explain why you shouldn’t refer to your teacher as “GIRL”, but I didn’t want to kill her first day of school buzz.

    And so it begins. Tomorrow I’ll drop her off again and we’ll wash, rinse and repeat for the next I-don’t-really-want-to-think-about-how-many days.

    Here’s hoping I can get through the rest of them without crying every five minutes.

  • I’m powerless

    I’m going to have to make this brief. Not because I don’t have much to say. On the contrary, I have volumes and volumes of things I’d love to share.

    But the short version is that we’ve spent the last four days at the beach and got home yesterday afternoon and I have misplaced the power cord for my computer. It’s tragic really.

    The worst part is I can’t guarantee that I didn’t accidentally throw it away in the midst of my pre-vacation cleaning frenzy. In fact, P believes there is a better than 82% chance of that scenario.

    I brought my laptop to the beach, but never ended up actually using it because they didn’t have wireless access at the beach house and I couldn’t bring myself to plug into the router like some sort of twentieth century savage. So I can’t even remember if I had my power cord there or not.

    And then I let Caroline watch Barbie: The Princess and The Pauper on the computer on the way home and, thus, I have about three seconds of power left.

    IT’S ALL BARBIE’S FAULT.

    So after I do the whole first day of school drop off thing, I’m headed to the Apple store to buy a new power cord to replace the one I may or may not have thrown in the trash.

    And I’m trying not to think of all the other things I could spend that money on.

    Like perhaps some herbal supplements that help with memory loss.

  • It’s like a long weekend or something

    Well, if you count today then we officially have two days of summer left at our house. And then we have the weekend. And then we have the first day of second grade.

    On the one hand, I’m going to miss sleeping in until 9:30 a.m. and watching a little Phineas and Ferb to start the day.

    But, on the other hand, I’m kind of ready to be back in some sort of routine.

    I know.

    It’s like I’ve gone crazy from the heat.

    Anyway, I want to soak up the next few days. I want to sleep late. I want to go to the pool and wonder how the snack bar manages to run out of bread. I want to hug my girl several million times before I send her off to the dog eat dog world of second grade.

    So I’m taking the next few days off.

    Although, technically, that means I shouldn’t have posted anything today. But then five people and my dad might have been worried that something was wrong and emailed me to see why I didn’t post something.

    And that’s why I just wrote this overly long explanation.

    Just try to remember that my OCD is part of my charm.

    I’ll see you on Monday.

  • The injury list includes my pride

    I just fell over the dog.

    I don’t know why I feel compelled to let you know that, but it just happened and it’s the most significant thing that’s going on in my life. Mainly because I landed on my wrist and now I’m typing funny.

    I’d just tucked Caroline into bed when I heard P knocking on the back door. He had gone outside to test the new headlights he installed on his Polaris and I’d accidentally locked him out.

    Sidenote: He told me about ten minutes earlier that the only thing he didn’t understand was why ATV manufacturers don’t install better factory headlights on their vehicles. That makes two of us. It’s an issue that’s caused me to lose sleep for years.

    Anyway, I’d locked him out because he has trained me to immediately lock the doors as soon as I close them and I hurried to let him back in the house. Then just as I was stepping over Scout, who never feels that his presence in the center of a doorway is an inconvenience, he decided to stand up and I fell flat on the floor into a position reminiscent of the way all the breakdancers end their solos in Breakin’ 2: Electric Boogaloo.

    I looked up in time to see P watching the whole thing through the glass back door with a look of pity and awe on his face. Welcome to thirteen years of marriage.

    The irony is that Gulley and I took the kids rollerskating on Friday because someone got new white skates with pink wheels and pink pom-poms for her birthday and needed to try them out.

    No, it wasn’t me.

    I WISH.

    It was the other birthday girl.

    Gulley and I were stuck with the exact same beige skates with orange wheels that have been available for rental since 1976. And the entire experience brought Gulley back to a dark place in her childhood when she got sneaker skates for Christmas instead of white ones with pom-poms.

    My long forgotten point is that if you’d told me I was going to fall and injure myself at some point in the week, I would have placed my bet on a rollerskating injury. But, oh no, that would have been way to glamorous. Instead, I tripped over the dog.

    However, Caroline got a little too excited at the roller rink when she heard Party in the USA come on and, in her rush to get out on the floor, had an unfortunate encounter with a foosball table that caused her to fall right on her behind.

    And she insisted she needed a bag of ice to make it feel better.

    See? An injury that requires you to sit on a ziploc filled with ice has some flair.

    Tripping over your dog just makes people, who may or may not be your husband, laugh at you through the back door.

    He’s lucky I let him in.