by Mary Anne on September 1, 2010
I can’t believe we are two weeks into school already. I can’t believe I have a son in Junior High. Most of all, I can’t believe we’ve made it this far without completely falling apart before school even started.
Of course there were some near misses, the first of which happened on “Meet Your Locker” night which very nearly gave me a heart attack.
Let me preface all this by saying we have never had a child in Junior High so I wasn’t sure what to expect. Also, I’d like to add that back in the Dark Ages when I went to school, a locker was just that, a locker. Apparently in the brave new world a locker is no longer a utilitarian device meant solely for holding books. No, now it is more of a fashion statement.
I couldn’t be there that night so The Man was in charge of “introducing” Mr. C to his locker. About an hour after it started, I texted him to see how it was going, I mean really…how long can it take? It was then that I realized I had totally discounted how important this locker thing really is:
“We are going to be here FOREVER waiting for the locker above his to get decorated.”
WHOA…. Decorated? I frantically texted back asking for details on what we had missed. I asked if Mr. C thought we were the worst parents in the history of the world for not knowing this important fact. I was finally reassured that we hadn’t missed out on much, we just needed to add a few sports stickers, shelves, a white board and a pencil holder…and that this incident would not be one of the many he will undoubtedly share with his psychiatrist years from now.
It turns out the boys lockers aren’t that big of a deal. It’s the girls lockers that are causing me to break out in hives. Don’t believe me? Take a look at this:
Thank God I’m only dealing with a boy this year because I am not crafty enough to come up with anything remotely that cute. That blue stuff on the bottom? Is shag carpet….I kid you not. There are even rumors circulating about a locker that not only has pink shag carpet but a chandelier as well. Totally serious.
So for next year, I’ll know that prior to school I need to get some very basic things for Mr. C’s locker which will allow him to be organized and able to access everything he needs. And I’ll also be spying on all the girls locker themes knowing that in a mere three years, I’ll be the one shopping for shag carpet and chandeliers.
::sigh::
This post was sponsored by the good people at Target!
by Mary Anne on August 30, 2010
This weekend was my birthday. Well actually, it was on Sunday but for me that means celebrating Saturday and Sunday….and possibly most of this week with friends over lunch so really it’s really more like a Birthweek. Or something like that.
I’m not going to say how old I am, mainly because it makes me cry to do so, but I will tell you I am at an age where things start to come out of my mouth that I just have no idea where they came from. More on this fun fact in a bit.
Let’s first talk about how spoiled I am.
On Saturday, Chef Man cooked this up for me:
I know it’s sort of fuzzy, I took it with my iPhone. At my advanced age, walking to get the camera is no longer an option if you can avoid it. Plus, walking would have allowed me to burn off at least 2 of the 2,000 calories that I took in at dinner….what’s the point? Regardless, dinner was delish and The Man even did all the dishes.
But wait! It gets better! I was also spoiled rotten with gifts this year thanks to that handy dandy contract job he’s been working on. First of all, The Man gave me Miss G an iPad.
And then, because I totally cannot stand the book feature on the iPad, The Man also got me Mr. C a Kindle….
Why on earth would any woman need two such fancy electronic devices? Because I have two children and if they had to fight over one fancy electronic devise, it wouldn’t be nearly as much fun, that’s why.
Moving on…
So remember a few paragraphs of drivel ago I mentioned to you that I am at an age where things come out of my mouth that I just have no idea where they came from? Yeah, about that. My sweet friend Lauren took me for a pedicure Sunday morning. Getting a pedicure might be one of my most favorite activities because it involves zero effort on my part, I get to catch up with friend and when it’s all done my toes are well, lovely. Which is the exact word I used after asking the barely English speaking girl who had worked on my feet what her name was. Confusing right? Here’s a brief recap:
TSM: That was such a nice pedicure! What’s your name so I can ask for you when I come back?
Her: Nina.
TSM: Nina?
Nina: Yes.
TSM: Well thank you Nina, lovely!
Nina: ::very confused look on her face while scurrying away::
TSM: ::also trying to figure out how situation turned awkward so quickly::
Nina: “Love you too!”
Wait. What just happened here?
TSM: ::sits up with sudden realization of what just happened::
“Oh. My. God. Nina thinks I just told her I love her!!!!!”
See? I have never in my life used the word lovely before when talking about my toes or a name or anything else for that matter… and yet here it was, in all it’s glory. I’d used an old person word and now this very small, sweet Asian woman was now hiding in the back afraid of coming out again and having me declare my love for her again.
So there you have it, for my birthday I was totally spoiled with wine, food and electronics….and apparently also managed to come out of the closet to the girl who did my toes.
Who said getting old was boring?
by Mary Anne on August 25, 2010
Okay everyone listen up….I am going to apologize right now for what I am about to do to your eyes with the most horribly written email ever that I have copied below. To give you a little back story, this was sent to the husband of one of my best friends. Understandably, my friend is very upset by this as her husband is truly one of the nicest and most well intentioned people you will ever meet. Also, he is a giant. No really, he’s like 6’5″ or something. Sadly, she made the mistake of asking me to help compose a response. ::snort:: So without further adieu, allow me to share with you how the combination of bad grammar and stereotypical fanaticism over Texas football are never a good idea. (Names have been changed to protect the asshole innocent.)
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Coach David. My Name is Tom Tulcote (Devin’s Father) and I never thought I would ever be sending a message like this to a coach. I have coached Devin’s soccer teams for the last 4 years and have been very excited to get him in tackle football. Every day over the past two years after school I have had him go to the school track and run 4 laps before walking home. He is the fastest runner on your team. I have watched several practices including last night and I can no longer bite my tongue over what I am seeing out there. The only kids I see you coaching out there is your own and the other coaches out there seem to be coaching the rest of them. Not once did you walk away from your own son to see what the other kids at the other stations were doing. You have my son playing Tackle(really). He can run faster than anyone out there including Seth who is not even old enough to be on the team. Devin practiced hard yesterday and like always was on time. Seth didn’t even get there till scrimmage time and you pulled Devin out to let Seth go in. Devin EARNED the right to get to play last night and you made him sit out twice. He wants JUST A CHANCE to get to work in the backfield but you seem to have already filed those spots and there back ups. You had the smallest two kids on our team playing guards during scrimmage and were facing kids on the other team twice their size. That is why we were getting creamed at the line of scrimmage. On one play one of them got the crap knocked out of him but you didn’t see it because you were as usual coaching your own son. You didn’t even try to help them when they were getting creamed by the defensive line, but your son and a couple of the others that you blatantly seem to only have time for where getting plenty of advice. You told the kids to be ready to jump in at any position but you are only giving your favorites the chance to show what they can do. I hoped all the kids would get a chance at all positions but that has not AT ALL been the case. This has become the David and Carson Vander show instead of the Falcons 8 year olds. If your son and UNDERAGED Seth (how did he even get on the team? He is only 7) are getting better, It’s because they are the only ones getting a chance and getting some instructions.
I have never seen any dad show favor to their own son as much as I have seen you do. You have not even shared the plays to any of the kids other than your favorites. How are they going to learn or get a chance? If you want to discuss this with me, I can be reached @ 555-363-8000 anytime. If not I will forward this to the Commissioner in hopes that he will listen.
Tom Tulcote
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Okay, so you get the picture right? This guy is full of THE CRAZY. The team is three practices in…”David” is still trying to figure out the team and they haven’t played a single game yet. It drove me crazy because “David” is one of my very favorite people and is amazing with kids. He’s like a gentle giant, encouraging and amazingly wonderful with kids. Having known him for 15 years, there is no way he is discriminating against anyone’s kids…let alone in favor of his own.
Also, this business of “my kid is the BEST so deal with it” makes me nuts. It’s a team sport, learn to take turns and give everyone a chance to grow. It sure as hell isn’t the Superbowl just yet.
After taking a stab at writing something serious which he could actually use, I decided that we needed to inject some humor into this situation STAT. For your reading pleasure (and also with paragraphs and punctuation!):
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Tom;
Thank you for your email which has caused me to go blind from your apparent inability to separate sentences into paragraphs. Additionally, I’d like to compliment you on your spelling (it’s “filled” not “filed”, etc etc) AS WELL AS YOUR OVER USE OF THE CAPS LOCK KEY.
I am so glad that someone has finally seen through my evil plan to achieve world domination by coaching small boys in football. I choose to work only with the smallest as well as my son because they are the ones who I can scare the most and fear is an important part of building an army of short, heavily padded minions to do my bidding. The fact that your son Devin can run faster than ANYONE only means one thing….I have to run faster than I care to in order to hunt him down, force him supplicate himself and surrender to the David and Carson Vander show. Quite frankly Tom, I’m too busy staring in the mirror at my own glorious reflection or extolling the virtues of my obviously perfect son to undertake such an endeavor.
My best advice to you is to come over here and kiss my ass, given my height vs. yours, I doubt you’d even have to bend over.
Best,
David
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Sadly, I think he sent a far more politically correct version in response. But tell me, do you think I got the point across?
by Mary Anne on August 24, 2010
I’ll bet you think I’m about to tell you some sad story here about how I sent my oldest off to middle school yesterday or how I hated to see my daughter get on the bus to head off to third grade.
I’m not.
Maybe you think I’ll tell you that in the silence of my house, I felt raw and stinging emotions at the thought that my children are growing up far too fast.
Nope.
If I were to add on to this that The Man has a contract job for the next several weeks and will also be out of the house, you might think that I’d share with you how much I would miss seeing him during the day and how his very presence gives me comfort.
HA!
I’m sorry but if you thought that you should just stop reading my blog right now because obviously you don’t know me at all. The only thing I was thinking yesterday morning was “Hell to the yes….ALONE AT LAST!!!!”
I thought getting back into the routine would be tough when the alarm went off at 6:00 am. Instead, I sprung to my feet, shook The Man a little (okay…a lot) and reminded him he needed to get up and get the hell out.
The children received a similar treatment. Rather than waking them with a gentle kiss and a pat on the head, I stirred them to life by turning the lights on suddenly and reminding them that they needed to eat breakfast, brush their teeth, and get dressed all within :30 minutes so they could also get the hell out.
Both went off safely on the bus. Miss G in her sassy new outfit, clinging to me until she saw her friends at which point I was promptly and uncerimoniously dumped. And then there was Mr. C who waved good-bye at the front door because I am no longer allowed anywhere near the bus…or his friends.
::sigh::
Around 9:30 The Man had not left yet and I began giving him the side eye. At 9:45, I resorted to growling. Somewhere around 10:00, he took the hint and I managed to divest myself of him as well at which point the celebrations really began.
Did I sun myself out by the pool? No. Did I go for a martini lunch with girlfriends? Uh uh. What I did was so much more exciting, you ready for it?
I turned all the TV’s off, caught up from my staycation last week at work and….wait for it….DID LAUNDRY. Yes, my friends, I am just that exciting. Nothing makes me happier than a fresh towel out of the dryer that I get to fold. Some people would take a quick walk to the water cooler or chat with co-workers to break up the day. Unless I want to have a conversation with a fat pug or an angsty cat, I don’t really have anyone to talk to on days when I don’t have appointments. Instead, I get my jollies in the form of a warm towel that if folded JUST SO will appear uniform with all the other towels even if it’s a different size.
Don’t even try to compete, the awesome I dish out around here is beyond reproach.
The day was amazingly quiet and productive, and I’m seriously excited about the month ahead and the blissful peace that I will be enjoying while I work, not to mention my neatly folded towels.
Honestly, it takes so little to amuse me.
PS: I realize this would have been a better post if I actually had first day pictures to share with you but I can’t find the little card thingy that goes in the camera. I suspect it is buried somewhere in my neatly folded towels but I’m not going to disturb them, I’ll just let it be a little suprise when it falls out one morning. Again…I am so easily amused.
by Mary Anne on August 19, 2010
First of all, thanks to everyone who weighed in on that all important shoe decision earlier this week. I know I can count on you people to help out in crisis situations such as foot wear.
I’m on “staycation” this week meaning I’ve taken most of the week off in order to “spend quality time” with my children.
Stop laughing.
Yesterdays outing involved going to a water park, getting burnt to a crisp, and forgetting to “hold my butt up” on one of the slides which left my backside as bruised and beat up looking as Tila Tequillas face after being mobbed by a fanatical group of Juggalos. For real.
That last sentence may or may not have sounded wrong…onward…
The fighting started almost immediately and continued the entire ride to the water park. The really good news is they like totally separate rides so for the most part, we were able to keep Mr. C and Miss G far enough away from each other that the park authorities didn’t need to get involved. And then there was this…
You call it a mushroom, I call it the “Cone of Silence” because it was the only time their arguing couldn’t be heard due to the splashing water. I am seriously considering purchasing one of these for my home.
Today, we are off to The Science Place to allow our children to spread their particular type of uncontrolled mayhem in a place designed to be “fun and educational for the entire family”. You say I’m going into this with the wrong attitude? I say I know this to be a fact based not only on previous performance but from the looks on their faces when they got up this morning.
Wish me luck. And if you don’t hear from me for a while, chances are you’ll hear about it on the evening news eventually.
