Happy Birthday to my Little Dude

It was fourteen years ago today that I gave birth to my little guy.  He was born at home and proudly displayed to trick-or-treaters that very night.  Every minute since then has been filled with adventure, surprise, fun, panic (8 trips to the E.R. and as of yesterday, six broken bones), and lots and lots of love.  I've never met anyone as comfortable in their own skin as this guy is.  His core belief is, "Of course you're gonna like me, I'm pretty darn awesome."  And he's right!  It's the most fun job ever and such an incredible privilege to be his mom.  Thanks for picking me, little dude!!!  I love you, I love you, I love you!

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To Break or Not to Break...That is the Question

And now...the much anticipated conclusion to yesterday's blog. 

I picked the little guy up from school early today.  He managed to talk me into some pity fast food, of course...you know, what with the painful pinky and all.  We drove to the bone-ologist's office, a place he hadn't been to in years, but back then he frequented the joint (Ooh, catch that awesome bone joke?  Thank you very much...I'll be here all night.).  Anyway, as we neared the place, my little guy started giving me directions to the right building.  Yup, he still knew exactly where to go.  We walked in, let them know we were there, and sat down to wait our turn.  Soon enough we were heading to the back.  The man who had done the last six or so of my little guy's casts said, "Hey, welcome back!"

Hmmmmm...is it a good sign when the cast guy recognizes you as a frequent flier?  Seriously, though, we should have a filled up punch card by now.

The doc came in, looked at the x-rays, and declared that darn pinky "fractured".  Yup, this is officially the 6th broken bone for that crazy little dude of mine.  As he already has casts of every color (except pink and purple...whassup with that?!?!), he went for two tone.  And since his birthday is on Halloween, why not celebrate with a fabulous orange and black cast?  Awesome!

So, hope you enjoy your birthday present cast, kiddo...you weren't expecting anything else, were ya?

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Why stop at just five broken bones?

I figure that's surely what my little guy is thinking.  I mean eight emergency room visits, five broken bones, and a life full of clumsy adventure...so, yeah, why stop at just five?  The little dude has been sporting a tape/splint/etc. since Friday when he tripped over air (this has happened a lot) and fell, injuring his pinky.


Little guy on the phone on Friday:  "Mom, can you pick me up from the bus stop?  I hurt my pinky."

Me:  "Why?  You don't need your pinky to walk home, use your legs and feet."

Little guy:  "Pleeeeeease, mom.  It's five times the normal size!!!"

Me:  "OK, but it better look bad."


So how did it look?  Well, maybe "twice its normal size" would have been a more accurate representation of the digit.  And painful, without a doubt.


Me:  "So, I suppose no karate then tonight, eh?"

Little guy:  "No, I'm fine for karate."


OK, so I'm sure you're seeing the not-making-sense part of this as well, right?  Anyway, one karate class, at least five or six hard-core football scrimmages in the front yard, and several wrestling matches later, we're heading to the bone-ologist tomorrow to have it x-rayed and diagnosed.

Tune in tomorrow to hear the latest!

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Tip of the Hat

I did a little grocery shopping yesterday in a store that I'd never been to. I mean I've been to that store, just not that location.  I was wandering down the aisles (why, oh why, do they not design all the same-named stores the same way?), totally lost, looking up at the signs overhead hoping to find the word for what I was looking for, when I turned into an aisle, and almost ran into a gentleman.  He smiled really big, tipped his cowboy hat at me, and insisted that I go first.  Let me just say that even though I'm a strong-willed, independent woman, I seriously love chivalry. 

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Advice...the Good, the Bad, and the Odd

Words of wisdom given to my little guy when we were at a yard sale this morning.


Yard sale guy:  "I've got some advice for you, young man."

Little guy:  "What?"

Yard sale guy:  "When you start dating a young lady, be sure to look at her mom, because that's what she'll end up looking like."

Little guy:  "Um, OK."

Yard sale guy:  "Better yet, only date orphans."

Little guy:  "Oh."


So, the advice was rather odd and uninvited, but on the other hand, he told me my mom must be lovely.  So, I suppose he might be on to something.  Hee hee.

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Cleanliness is next to...well, it might be overrated...maybe

Dave got us new electric toothbrushes today.  This was particularly fabulous because I lost mine several weeks ago and have been sharing with my little guy.  Not the head of it, mind you, bleck!  Just the power part that made the top part shake, rattle, and roll.  Anyway, as I was throwing away the old chargers (as they do not fit the new toothbrushes, of course), Dave commented that I never cleaned mine off.  Really "never" is such a HUGE exaggeration..."very seldom" would be more accurate.  But, gee, it worked fine whether or not I cleaned it, right?  Just like my bed would be just as wonderful to sleep in if I "very seldom" made it...which I'd do if left to my own.  Instead, it gets made very single day.  And, yes, it does look better.  And, yes, the cat hair stays only on the top layer.  And, yes, it makes for a much better surface to fold laundry on.  And, yes, okay, maybe Dave is right about the bed and the toothbrush charger...maybe.

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Officially out of the Clot Zone

I've reached the six month mark since my blood clot was officially deemed "gone".  Six months means that I'm now considered "just fine and dandy" and not to have clots on my worry list any more.  So, yay!!!  Course, with a clot history, I'll have to go through menopause (bring it, already!!!) without the support of any hormone replacement.  I figure that would've been my choice anyway, now I have a life/death reason to back up my choice.

So, yay about being alive...and sorry, Dave, about the emotional roller coaster ride you'll be taking along with me in the coming years (not that I don't already lead you on one daily as it is).

Some of my previous clotty posts...just if you're interested....

Danger, Danger, Will Robinson

Blood is Thicker than Water

Veggies Make Me Feel Naughty

Sup, Bloods?

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Just because you snooze, doesn't mean you lose.

Hit the "snooze" on my alarm this morning.  It's been forever since I've done that.  I was having way too good of a time sleeping.  But, when it went off again, I gave in to the waking part of my day.  I grogged through my morning routine, already dreaming of when I'd get to go back to sleep tonight.

When it was time to start waking up the rest of the clan, I went into my little guy's room and put on my best cheerful, and likely annoying, "I'm so happy to be awake" voice.


Me:  "Time to get up, kiddo."

Little guy:  "No, no, no!!!  This can't be happening!!!"

Me:  "I hear ya."


A few hugs and kisses later he was grossed out enough to get up and get moving, and I was love-filled enough to get my own act in gear.

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Ignorance is Sort of Bliss

As I'm driving my kiddo home from his last football game of the season tonight, I am washed with a bit of relief that one, he's survived without injury (yay!), and two, I have almost a year till I have to be the obvious clueless-about-anything-related-to-football ding-a-ling that I am.  I smiled to myself as we drove along and he talked on and on about specifics of the game that had just occurred and I nodded and piped up with a "you were awesome" at what seemed the right time.

I made it almost home when I realized that soccer season is soon to be upon us.  And, thus, my clueless-about-ball-sports reign was sadly going to continue.  And then track will quickly follow that.  No ball, but I'm still ignorant about all the events...after all, when I did track and field in elementary school, I was the hippety-hoppety champion (I still have the blue ribbon, thank you very much).  Now, if they brought that fabulous sport to middle school, you'd all have a true authority on your hands.

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Twinkle, Twinkle

Driving in the car with the teen crowd.  Hip hop on the radio, questionable lyrics vibrating my car.


Teenager #1:  "Oh, my gosh...I think 'Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star' is the same tune as 'ABCs'."

Teenager #2:  "What?  No way!"

Teenager #1 and #2:  "Twinkle, Twinkle...." singing the whole song, ever so sweetly, quite slowly, all the while doing the ABCs in their heads.  At least that's what I think they were doing.


We drove in silence for a bit.


Me:  "You guys really didn't know that, eh?"

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My Thrifty Little Guy

So, how'd the visit to Lance Armstrong's house go?  Well, not exactly as I'd predicted.

(If you're wondering what the heck I'm talking about, read this first:  Home is Where the Heart is.)


Me:  "So, what did you think of Lance Armstrong's house?"

Little guy:  "It was awesome!!!!"

Me:  "Would you rather live there or here?"

Little guy:  "THERE...obviously!"

Me:  "Really?"

Little guy:  "Well, only if I didn't have to pay the expenses."


Points for being thrifty, little guy!

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Home is Where the Heart is

So, the little guy had the opportunity to go to Lance Armstrong's house this morning.  I had his return all planned out in my mind.


Me:  "What did you think?"

Little guy:  "It was awesome!!!"

Me:  "Do you wish you lived in a house like that?"

Little guy:  "No way, mom.  I love living here in this house filled with love."


So, how did it really go?  Well...he got up this morning, and a little later he made the choice to go back to bed and sleep instead of going.  That's pretty much the same as the scenario I came up with, right?


P.S. He does get a second chance to go there tonight.  I'll let you know tomorrow how it goes.

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Flattery at Any Age

I'm gliding into "older than middle aged" fairly gracefully.  At least I'd like to think I am.  I'm not bothering with covering anything with dye, make-up, or something to suck myself in.  And, I don't complain about the effects of time and gravity...much (Please don't ask Dave to confirm my statement.).

But...I felt downright giddy yesterday when a gentleman asked me if I happened to be married.  "Yup," I said, "for twenty years!"

He paused for a moment and said, "Well, that's good."

Did it bug me that he was in his mid-seventies?  Not in the least!!!  I rather dug it!

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Somehow he Knows

The kids have radar that senses when I get home.  It has nothing to do with the family GPS thing we all have going on...basically just like that awesome clock thing at the Weasley house.  No, they just know.


Little guy:  "Mom, I'm hungry."  He managed to say this, mid air, as he leaped over the arm of the couch to land beside me.

Me:  "Tell me something that you love about me."  I'm all about the awkward question games, after all.

Little guy:  "I don't know."

Me:  "Guess you're not hungry."

Little guy:  "I love when you cook for me."

Me:  "OK, that doesn't count, that just takes us back to the beginning."

Little guy:  "I love you, mom."  He says very sweetly as he puts me in a gentle headlock.  I pause for a moment to be thankful to the shower gods as lucky for me, he partook right after school.

Me:  "All right, give me a kiss and I'll make you a pizza."


And he did...right on my cheek...swoon....

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Mum's the Word

I so very clearly remember homecoming in ninth grade.  I knew what was coming.  I'd seen homecoming in both seventh and eighth grade.  I knew lotsa girls would be proudly wearing HUGE mums, ribbons down to their knees, all kinds of gold footballs, helmets, and bells jingling in the hallways, glitter pretty much everywhere.

So, in ninth grade my mom took me to a craft store so I could make one of my own.  We got enough stuff to make one for me and for some of my fellow dorkette friends (it's not like anyone was going to give one to us).  I worked for days gluing things just so and, I must say, they were quite fabulous!  I wore mine with great pride and happily left sparkly evidence wherever I went.

Now, somewhere between ninth and eleventh grade, I declared those mums ridiculous.  I no longer held them in high regard...there was no place left in my heart for them.  Phooey!

Well, tonight was the homecoming game for my little guy's football team.  One of the team moms had made mums for all of the player's moms.  What did this girl do?  I ran right over to that sweet pile of sparkly stuff and picked mine right out...it said "PARSONS" really big on one of the ribbons. 

Yup, you're darn tootin' I loved it!

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Keep Calm and Drive On

Had to drive in the rain today.  Yes, I'm one of those drivers who thinks, "RAIN!  Danger, danger, everybody slow down to a crawl, already!"  I mean, really, you should see me when there's ice...I hunker down and plan for a long winter's stay stuck in my house.  My wonderful, and ever so brave husband?  Well, he's completely unfazed by any of it and out he goes.

Today as I headed home from a professional development thingie, navigating one of those wacky traffic calming circles in the rain, I was reminded of something my precious (and often cranky) now-deceased next door neighbor said once at a neighborhood meeting.

"What is it with all these damn supposed traffic calming devices?!?!"

They may calm traffic, but they leave me a wreck.  My curled lip relaxed into a smile, though, each time I repeated his brilliant words...through all three of those darn supposed things. 

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Birds of a Feather

I can hardly pass up a feather when I see one on the ground.  I absolutely love them!  I regularly have to purge my collection as they end up falling off my desk and on to the floor quite often.  I like the "plain" black ones just as much as the ones brimming with color.  My absolute favorite ones are the ones that are imperfect...that tell the story of its owner's life. 

I thank you, lovely birds.

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Cookies have Super Powers

I sat outside tonight with my little guy as he neared the end of his annual ACL sale.  It's funny what comes up sometimes.


Little guy:  "I got paid with a two dollar bill today."

Me:  "Oh, cool!  I still have some left over for Tooth Fairy money."

Little guy:  "About that...you still owe me money for the last two teeth I lost."

Me:  "No, I don't.  When you stopped believing, the money stopped appearing."

Little guy:  "Well, what about that tooth you left under my pillow for so long that it actually broke in half it got so old."


Meanwhile...a lovely fellow came by and bought one of the chocolate chip cookies I'd made and donated to the sale.


Little guy:  "So, you owe me money, mom."

Me:  "Remember that guy who just came up and gave you a dollar for the cookie I made?  And the other hundred (seriously, I made at least one hundred cookies!) or so people that also bought cookies?"

Little guy:  "Oh, yeah.  OK, mom, we're even."


Even...hmmmmmm....

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There's Power in Choice

My big guy and I were looking at the one and only scrapbook I made during my kids' childhood.  It's pretty awesome, so if there had to be just one, they lucked out.

Anyway, he was looking at photos of himself when he was about seven or so.  He went through a really cute phase when he grew his hair down almost to his shoulders, slicked it with gel every day, and wore a pressed button down shirt.  He was quite the dapper little hippie.  Sidenote:  the year before he insisted on wearing a tie dye shirt every day.  That year meant a lot of tie dying and laundry.


Big guy:  "Mom, why did you make me look like that?"

Me:  "Me?  I never made you do any of that.  You've always gotten to choose your hairstyle and clothing style."

Big guy:  "That was mean, mom."


Gee...I guess I can't win.  Not yet at least.  But I think I can feel the easing in of appreciation.  I will very happily wait.

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Another ACL...Another Dollar

...for the little guy, anyway.

He's had a lemonade stand in our front yard every year since he was four.  (Our neighborhood becomes a literal parking lot for ACL goers each year, so there's a lot of potential customers.)  He used to team up with his big brother, but the big guy has since found "better" ways to make money.  So, the little guy has been on his own for several years and has made more money than the previous year every time.  This, I must say, takes a lot of work on his part.  When he started he was a curly-haired, angelic-looking, cherub.  Now he's a rather handsome, slightly pimply, could-wash-his-hair a little more often, amazing and wonderful teenager.  Lucky for him he more than makes up for the lack of "cute" with his delightful personality and deep sea-blue eyes.

You go, little dude!

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New Math feels a lot like Old Math

I've got quite a headache.  Helped the big guy with math tonight.  Feel like I got hit with a two-by-four and linear equations fell out.  How'd we do it?  Well, we accessed all that was available on the computer and finally found our way to the solution...again...and again...and again.  It was good stuff and, miraculously, a pretty darn good time.  Reminded me of when I was a kid doing nightly math at the table with my dad.  Only we didn't have computers to help us, just my dad's amazing mega-brain.  He kept (and still keeps) things categorized in there like the finest filing cabinet ever.  His super power?  Pulling formulas out of his head at a moment's notice and totally remembering how and why to use each and every one of them.  Me?  Well, I know how to access the computer and follow through with what's shown.  Maybe my big guy will someday remember me having that as my super power.

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I'm just glad it wasn't the AVON lady.

So I've been wearing the exact same two black workout outfits for several years now.  The gym where I work out is so not the "dress sexy to work out" kind of place...thankfully!  While my tops are hanging in there still, the pants are a different story.  One has faded to that ugly gray/black that all cottons tend to get to.  The other is going the route all lycra outfits go...getting thin, thin, thin.  Actually I have no evidence of such thinness.  I can't tell if it's gone all see-through and stuff.  I just assume it has.  And I've found myself behind enough people in classes who do have thinning lycra (and yes, even if you're toned you don't want to be basically handing out x-ray vision glasses to everyone).

I decided it was time to order more pants...you know, as a public service and all.  So I did.

I had no idea when they'd come and I hadn't even bothered to open my confirmation email from Amazon.  My solution in the meantime?


1. Offer one of my kids $5 to go with me to the gym and stand behind me in the fluorescent lighted gym and check out my "coverage".

2. Wear my kid's outgrown soccer shorts till my new pants arrive.


I went with #2, so my kids dodged a bullet there avoiding #1 and all.  I put on the baggy boy shorts, said a few rude things to them, and started doing the dishes before I headed out to the gym.

"Ding-Dong!!"

I go to the door...and there, sitting on my porch, was the most beautiful brown box ever!  I ripped it open, got out one of my new pants, tried them on, perfect!  (Mail order is so risky!)

Thirty minutes later I was at the gym...fully covered...whew!

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Hearsay

Gotta love it when you hear reports of your kid's away-from-home conversations.  The kid was bragging about me, of course...not!


Little guy:  "My mom comes to all of my football games but she has no idea what's going on."

Little guy's friend's mom:  "Well, I was sitting by your mom at the last game and she said something every time your shirt came untucked...so I know she's watching you."


So there, kid.  I get tons of points just for showing up to a game and knowing the status of your uniform.  Besides, I think he rather likes having a clueless (and funny) mom.

P.S. It sure is good when other moms back you up!!

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Let the Battles Begin...and End...and Begin Again

You know the coolest thing about brothers?  They have funk, duke it out, and then they're buds.  Know what's not cool?  The duking out can seem very scary to their wee little mum (who does her darndest to stay out of the way).  While they move on right away after the brief battle, inspite of the rug burns and other small injuries they've inflicted upon one another, their mom...me...takes about thirty minutes per incident to calm down.  I'm starting to think it's all part of their evil plan.

Goobers!

P.S.  I have to admit that my little guy is the amazing "balls to the walls" kind of football player that he is because, in large part, of all the battles he's waged at home.  All right boys, go for it!

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Baby Got Bloom

With the cold weather creeping in, I realized that I only have two pairs of pants that aren't jeans and I'll seriously need leg covering soon.  So, off to the thrift store I went first thing this morning.  I dug and dug hoping to find some cords, but settled on a pair of gray khakis.  As I walked to the dressing room I spied a fabulous dress.  It was beautiful!  All covered in the most amazing flowers (and I'm sure you know by now I'm partial to those lovely blooming things).  I tried it on.  Looked great!  Turned to each side.  Awesome!  Did the "check out the hind quarters" move and...oh, my gosh...there was a GIGANTIC sunflower right on my booty!  Now, I ask you, who on earth designs such things?

Yup, that the dress that was three quarters perfect did not make the cut. 

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Ah, Romance...

Saw a mural on the side of a building tonight.  It said, "You're my butter half."  Complete with a big heart and a few pats of butter.


Me:  "We should paint that on the side of our house."

Dave:  "And I was just starting to like you."

Me:  "I was trying to be romantic."

Dave:  "You were being high cholesterol."


Sigh....while butter may be the way to a man's heart, apparently large paintings are not.

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The Scoop

I picked my little dude up from school today.  It's my Friday treat for him...you know, so he doesn't have to ride the bus.  I'm always curious about how his day went, and I got the whole scoop today!


Me:  "How was your day?"

Little guy:  "Fine."

Me:  "Did anything amazing happen today?"

Little guy:  "No."

Me:  "Did anything terrible happen today?"

Little guy:  "No."

Me:  "Did anything plain and normal happen today?"

Little guy:  "Yes."  (Now I'm getting somewhere!!!)

Me:  "What?"

Little guy:  "I don't remember."


So there you have it...the scoop, the whole scoop, and nothing but the scoop.

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Stop, Go, Slow Down!

I came up with a new word the other day.  A good one.  One so good that Dave says I should copyright it.  So, this is me, right here, copyrighting the darn thing...but you should feel free to use it at no cost, of course.

Drivenger (© Kali Parsons):  Rather like a back seat driver, but someone who sits in the passenger seat and dictates every move the driver should make and criticizes every move the driver did make.

I won't say which one of us is a drivenger...

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Lots o Tots

My big guy...I am so full of appreciation for that kid of mine!!!  The gift of doing the grocery shopping since he got his driver license has been amazing!  You're jealous, right?

Well, it's been amazing except for one small thing.  His eyes are bigger than my freezer.  No biggie...I can be creative...I can get rid of all packaging...I can cram tons of stuff in there, slam the door, and pray that it doesn't pop back open.  I can do all that.  What I'm having trouble doing is figuring out how to build tater tots and french fries into every meal.  Yes, he bought bulk size bags of each!  And yes, just for a little bit longer, tots, fries, and ketchup will be considered a healthy snack. 

The kids are not complaining.

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Falling Back

I've been thinking about the upcoming time change.  While I'm super excited that it'll be light when I walk to work and I'll be able to tell if I'm about to step on a delightfully crunchy pecan or a disgustingly mushy dog poo, I'm also mourning the possible loss of my daily encounter with the crowing rooster.  I love it so much!  Hoping roosters get wind of the time change and fall back with the rest of us.

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Let's Get Physical

Yesterday I shaved the poodle.  Real clipping, real poodle.  Scout had turned into Rasta Poodle, covered in the loveliest dreads, but sadly it was too hard to keep her clean.

So, out came the clippers.  I started with her snout, clipping almost to her skin, leaving a delightful poof atop her head, and lovely locks of white cascading down her ears.  Awesome.  Next her back...and oh, mercy, that girl has the same age spots on her back skin that I do on my hands!

Old Ladies Unite!!!

Next her tail, then tummy.  The girl was looking gooooooood.  All that was left were her legs.


Me:  "I hate clipping your legs!"

Scout:  "Woof!"  Translation:  "I hate when you clip my legs!"


Enter brilliant idea.  Halloween is upon us and Scout will definitely need a costume, right?  Wallah!  I'd like to introduce you to Olivia Newton John, c. 1981, "Let's Get Physical".  Seriously awesome!

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