To my Mama,
Who loved me through broken eggs, silly pranks, mischief and mistakes.
Who loved me when I pulled away and needed to be alone.
Who loved me when I was a scary teenage “polar bear” making her cry.
To my mama, who loved me through all these things,
who loves me now and always.
I am glad to be your “dear one”.
Becky
Just got back from celebrating Tuffy's birthday. Mom, Dad, Tuffy and I had a good time.
I remember riding a carousel at Como Zoo when we were little. I always ended up feeling queazy. Even looking at this picture makes me a little carsick. Gulp.
Happy birthday to YOU!!!
Happy birthday to YOOOUUU!!!
Happy Birthday dear BIRTHDAY PRINCESS OF THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD!!!!!
Happy BIRTHday TO YOU!!!!!
My sister loves her birthday - and she loves to have people sing the Happy Birthday song to her.
And so I just did. In case you couldn't tell.
We are going to the Como Zoo Conservatory today and she will pretend that all the flowers are for her.
But that's okay - because I was born so close to the 4th of July that I always pretend the fireworks are for me.
I want us to recreate this photo today.
Don't we look like we are having a wonderful time.
Poor mom. It looks to me like it had been a long day at the zoo.
So again, Happy Birthday Tuffy!
Oh, and at lunch today I don't care if you have the last french fry.
And the other french fry - the one from Hardees in St. Peter that you've probably still got hidden in a napkin in your coat pocket.
You can eat it anytime now I am so NOT going to be jealous.
My mother in law is arriving at noon today. I am trying SO hard to eliminate the dirt, dust and dog hair from my home. She isn’t allergic, and she isn’t the type to love me less if she ends up going home with furry clothes. However, I still care. I want her to think I’m taking good care of her son and grandkids. (The only one’s she’s got.) Somewhere in my twisted anxiety prone brain there is a soundtrack that sounds like this:
“It’s not clean enough … You forgot to … What about … You’re not the best … etc”
The good news --- my MIL is arriving today so that The Man and I can go to Florida for a week! Yay!
So today I will be attempting to vanquish the dust demons and dog hair monsters that reside in my VERY lived in home. Two dogs, two cats, two kids and lots of their friends are a lot for one woman to keep up with. Especially one woman who tends to read a book (or blog) when housework overwhelms her.
*Deep sigh* – gotta go - I’ve got a date with a mop.
I woke up and found that The Recliner had been on a midnight safari. He roamed the kitchen in search of the elusive "perfect snack". From the archeological evidence I would say he settled on green jello. Another interesting morning in the wilderness that is my home.
I also found this.
It said this:
Mom, how 'bout you make me a huge stack of delicious pancakes? The Recliner
"Please and Thank You?"
So I did this.
I called his cell from the kitchen and said:
“Room service here – your order of one huge stack of delicious pancakes is ready. Unfortunately, as we are short staffed this morning we will be unable to deliver your order to your room. Please report to the main dining area to be served. We will of course offer your breakfast at no charge for your inconvenience.”
His reply:
“That will be reflected in my online review”.
I ate a plate full myself - once again, no charge.
(note: I'm still not a photographer - but I'm having fun!)
Next year when The Recliner goes away to college I will miss his friends too. They are a great bunch of guys.
This show - "Big Bang Theory" - is my favorite. It's funny, smart, and sweet all at the same time.
I was terribly unpopular as a child. Either I went to a school full of very mean children, or I was massively annoying – perhaps a little of both. I was small, hyper active, young for my grade, smart, and a miserable athlete (except for gymnastics at which I excelled). Not a good combination when seeking social standing. Nobody wants to be friends with the little squirt who can’t shut up and always drops the softball.
Unless you were hoping to kick my butt at tetherball or looking for an assured victory at four square you wouldn’t have played with me at recess.
Red Rover? – I might as well have been wearing a bull’s eye on my shirt. Look up “weak link” in the Red Rover Handbook and you will find my picture.
Dodge ball anyone? “Blast the geeky girl!!!” “Get Her!!!” “She’s not crying ‘cause she’s bruised – she’s just a big baby!”
Not many kids are so athletically pathetic that they fail grade school gym class. But I managed. I actually had to go to summer school physical education.
So – now that you have a grasp for my place in Jr. High School society I will tell you the story about mean boys who throw rocks, and the mother who had finally turned her last cheek.
Is there anything worse that being in seventh grade? I think not. The bus is taking me home. John and Mike sat down in the seat behind me and are making fun of me. They have given me stupid nicknames that infuriate me. I’m trying SO hard to ignore them. They just won’t quit. No one, not one single person, on this bus has the guts to tell them to shut up. Mercifully we arrive at my stop. Leanne and I get off the bus. Unfortunately John and Mike do too. I guess they aren’t finished with me. I hug my books close to my chest and trudge down the hill. I’m exhausted. It’s been a painful day. Leanne, John, and Mike walk on one side of the road. I walk on the other. Nobody walks with me. Nobody even wants to share the same side of the street with me.
Zip!
Something breezes past my ear.
Zing! Zip!
It’s rocks.
Mike and John are yucking it up. They are having the time of their lives whipping rocks at me.
The rocks keep coming. Two or three hit me in the back. One gets me in the calf. Several more miss.
BANG! I see stars. Wow, they got me good. I’ve been smacked hard in the back of the head. Leanne finally decides she can’t watch this go on anymore. She crosses the road and says
“I’ll walk next to you and maybe they will quit”.
Oh thank you Lord!
Leanne stops me. She looks very concerned.
“You’re bleeding,” she says “A lot!”
That’s when I look down and see the bright red spot on my shoulder. It’s expanding rather quickly – My scalp is cut and dripping blood. All over my brand new yellow t-shirt. A LOT of blood!
Great! Just Super! I turn the corner, and see my mom’s car in our driveway. I am so relieved! She’s usually not home before me. I run up the hill and burst through the front door.
“MOM!!!! I’ve been hit by rocks and I’m BLEEDING!!!”
She’s upstairs. She comes running. “What? – what happened"!
I finally start to cry. “John and Mike were throwing rocks at me while I walked home from the bus stop. They hit my head Mom. My shirt is ruined!”
“That’s IT! I have had it! Get in the car!”
“Let me change my shirt.”
“NO! You get in the car just like that. I know where those boys live and I want their mothers to see just exactly what they’ve done”.
We climb into Mom’s Chevy Vega and speed through the neighborhood. Tires squealing, engine racing, holy heck Mom has learned to double clutch. Dale Earnhardt would have been eating our dust. Talk about "The Fast and the Furious"! Mom pulls into John’s driveway and storms up to the door. She gives John’s mom a run down of his extra curricular activities. Gesturing wildly, eyes sparking.
We drive to Mike’s house and the scene is repeated. Mom climbs back into the car. She's breathing hard.
I remember thinking “Wow! She’s really mad. I’ve never seen her like this.”
Various items had been thrown at me many times before. Spit balls, food, pencil erasers, etc. Everyday before 5th hour Vicky waits outside Mr. D’s Science classroom to kick me in the shins. Sometimes so hard that I fall down. Mr. D stands, arms folded over his chest, back against the wall and pretends not to see this happen. EVERYDAY! I guess I just figured that’s life. Grown ups know who’s cool and who’s not. It’s just the way things are. So what upset me the most today wasn’t the viciousness of the other kids, I was used to that, it was the blood. I was just upset about the blood. But mom, she was IRATE. She was offended by the cruelty and was teaching me that it wasn’t ok. It wasn’t normal, and it wasn’t going to stand.
She calls it going into Mother Grizzly Bear Mode. No one messes with a mama grizzly bear’s cub – and no one was gonna mess with her little girl. Not today anyway.
I get it now. I’m a mama too. I’d have done the same, or worse. No one is gonna mess with my babies either.
Photo from google images - Smarter Outdoors Blog - Thank You! It is SO perfect for this story!
...is still my best friend - and one of my favorite people in the whole world to have a tea party with.
When I was little I got ear infections and strep throat in endless succession. I remember trying to act like I wasn't sick so that I wouldn't have to go to the doctor. I always ended up getting penicillin shots in my butt and then I wouldn't be able to walk for days. My whole rear end and leg would stiffen up. There were times I was so sore that the little chick in this picture had to set up chairs for me to use as "crutches" so we could make our way to the television to watch Saturday morning cartoons. The first time she did this for me she was only two and a half years old. What a pal, and loving little sister. Thanks Tuffy!
Love ya Sis!
I'm working 5 days this week instead of my typical 1 or 2. It's the beginning of spring break season and that means that all the college aged boys and girls who are still sporting third molars are coming to our office only to leave with big balls of gauze where their wisdom teeth used to be. Yes, I am up to my elbows in blood and saliva. It's cool actually.
That and ... Banshee Girl is behind in her homeschool science labs. The blogging has to give way - darn anyhow. Here's what we're doing instead.
Gotta love those crayfish guts! Nummy, nummy!
I LOVE this commercial.
It makes me think of someone very dear to me.
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Mustard at the Beach
