Maybe All This Explains The Pain In My Head And The Ache In My Side And The Hope That Just Won't Die

A random selection of this year's posts makes me laugh, wonder, and shake my head in disbelief. What was I thinking? Click on the big and bold words if you have nothing better to do... just don't hold it against me.

My husband thought I was ugly in the beginning of the year.
My brother was in the beginning stages of his weight loss journey.
And my big boy freely admitted he loved me.

I was searching for hope

While re-emphasizing we had no need for Cialis 

And pondering the possibility of mail-order husbands.

Strawberry Daiquiri's.
Lessons From A Clothesline.
Making Teenagers Groan.

I became my alter ego.
Watched my other half drown his sorrows in lights.
And became entirely self-absorbed.

Wonder what the next year will bring?
Thanks for reading along with me.
Happy New Year.  =)



Priorities

Things that make me laugh:
My husband. My kids.
And thirty-some hits within three minutes of posting a blog entry entitled Hot Booties?

Things that make me cry:
My husband. My kids.
And reading what my dad writes in the cards that he sends.

Things that make me thankful for the life I've been given:
All of the above. All of the below.
And everything else that comes in between.



The last time this group sat together.

My mom. My daughter. My grandma and me.

My present, future, and past... in that particular order.



Hot Booties?

That was the first thing I heard when I turned the television on this morning. Have you seen that infomercial? They're slippers that you heat in the microwave... not an actual booty that is considered hot. Yeah. I think I'll move on, too.

The middle had me up early on this chilly morning to drive him over to a friend's house to do his new favorite thing: longboarding. Ever since the FedEx man dropped his Christmas present off early last Saturday, the boy has turned into a faithful weather watcher and a man with a mission. He's also had his first run-in with the law. While out Monday on his board, he crossed over the street to get out of the way of the only car on the road. The local po-po were hanging out on a street corner when one decided to holler out, Hey you with the long hair. Get over here.

And if you've read this blog long enough or know me at all, then you know the husband has law enforcement experience and the highest respect for the men- and women- who stand in those shoes. This particular instance, however, just had us both wondering if the man had nothing better to do.

Anyway, the middle looks around, discerns that he is the only person around (long hair or not), and makes his way over to the officer.  The guy asks him who he is, where he is going, and why he is out in the first place (at this point the husband interjected Probable Cause?). So the middle answers with his name, where he is headed, and why he is out. A car pulls up with a girl behind the wheel which momentarily distracts the officer. Thinking he is free to go, the middle starts to take off.

Not so fast.

The officer yells at him to come back, lectures him on the rules of the road, writes him a citation (which basically boiled down to a warning), and sends him on his way. The middle, wondering if he would still like to pursue a career in criminal justice, continues on his journey to visit a friend's house. We just happened to be standing outside later when he came whizzing back down the road and into the driveway. The first thing he did was pull out a folded blue paper from his pocket, tell us his story, and ask Can I hang it on my wall?

The things that make a kid proud.
The things that make a husband grumble.
The things I get to write about. =)

The Year Of Me

Say what you will, but this year brought a strange twist to the traditional passing out of the presents. After Santa, aka the youngest, handed out the last gift, a strange hush fell over the room. Mom! Look at all your presents! I looked down, then looked around. Indeed, I was surrounded by gifts galore (at least by my standards). The others had some, too, but mine outnumbered them all.

I like to call it

The Year Of Mom,

And it's about time.



Random Note: If you look past me to the oldest, you'll see him gazing in wonder at that crazy black cat of ours.





And the fact that most of the presents were from the husband and included such practical things like new glasses for the kitchen, fuzzy socks to keep my feet warm, and a gift box full of silky underwear (seriously) did not diminish the excitement of my bigger-than-the-rest pile.

Besides, he also got me perfume called Rebel Chic and Luv-A-Licious.

To quote a friend of mine, Stand back, girls. He's all mine.

The Year Of Mom. The Year of The Wife.

It's all good in my book.

FedEx Brings Christmas Early

The barbecue is going in the slow cooker and I've got yeast rolls ready to set out. One kid is happily doing dangerous tricks and twists and turns on some steep hill (near a lake, no less) on his pre-Christmas gift of a custom made longboard (It's a longboard, Mom. Not a skateboard). The cheery FedEx man delivered the box just hours ago and the husband and I just looked at each other and at the big, obvious looking box sitting in the middle of the living room floor. Let him have it, the man of the house said. It's suppose to rain tomorrow. Pocket knife in hand, the boy took in a deep breath and commenced to opening the sealed package with great care. Father and son admired the handiwork together and out the door the boy went, long hair and all. Life is be pretty sweet when you're fifteen.

The girl came in, looked at the box, and sighed heavily. Again, the husband and I looked at each other. What the heck, I said. I picked up my phone and called a number that I have been saving. In the next room, we heard a phone ringing. I asked her to get her dad's phone and she gave me the look that says a million impatient things in one glaring glance. She did what she was told, though, and emerged from the room holding her dad's (old) phone and a smile on her face. She's a sharp one, that girl. I shut my phone in mock frustration and told her she really needed to get her voicemail set up. She's roaming the house now singing a Travis Tritt tune of "It's A Great Day To Be Alive." Life is pretty sweet when you're thirteen.

As for the other child, he is still sound asleep. There are no big surprises for him this year, but at this point in his life, he's pretty clear about his Christmas wishes. He would prefer no gifts at all (seriously), but he'll take the cash if you offer it. Gas. Insurance. Oil changes. His own phone bill. Dates with his girl. For the first time this year, he went out and bought a few gifts for other people. It's amazing to watch his attitude and outlook on life change now that he's a working man. He's on that threshold of breaking completely free and yet still having us hold the reins on him. One day he mentioned that the whole grown-up thing is a little bit scary. Yes, it is, Son. Nonetheless, life is still pretty sweet when you're eighteen.

So here we all sit on this beautiful day of Christmas Eve.

The still-singing youngest is filling up her contact list.
The wind-blown middle just walked in to affirm the wonders of his new board.
And the sleeping oldest has just been told by his off-and-on napping dad to get up.

It is indeed a great day to be alive.

Merry Christmas!

Where Does The Time Go?



Kindergarten



12th Grade

 

Santa Claus And Me



age 4




age 5




age 6




age 7




age 8




And that's the last picture I have. Maybe it was the year after this one that my older brother told me that dirty little lie that Santa wasn't real. Sheesh. I would've liked to have seen more stylish outfits from the 70s (and I do believe each one was handmade by my mom). Cool bowl haircut, huh?