Tuesday, March 31, 2009

I Am Often Left Out Of The Loop

I am often the last person to find out stuff.


Like ...


When we are down to the last roll of toilet paper in the house.


Like ...


When we are out of vanilla ice cream and the bottle of Hershey's syrup is merely an empty bottle taking up space on the top shelf in the refrigerator.


Like ...


When I head across town to shop at a favorite store and I pull up to an OUT OF BUSINESS sign pasted inside the front window.


Recently ... I had to make a trip to Walgreens.


I grabbed my purse, slipped on my sandals and headed for the front door.


"Alexis - come get your shoes on - go with me to Walgreens," I yell down into the family room.


"I don't want to go."


"Do I have to go?"


"Why do I have to go?"


"Why are you going?"


"What are you going for?"


"Isn't it dinner time?"



She did not want to go.



"I've just gotta go pick up something real quick. Come on - go get on your shoes," I begin to beg.



"I don't want to go."

"Do I have to go?"


"Why do I have to go?"


"Why are you going?

"What are you going for?"


"Isn't is dinner time?"



She is stalling!



"A-LEX-IS! COME ON - it won't take that long." I go over to the back door and pick up her flip-flops and hand them too her.


"Why can't Little Billy watch me?


And ... Chandler? Chandler is downstairs playing with Little Billy.


They can watch me," she squeals - while - NOT - putting on her shoes.


I am becoming frustrated. "They can't watch you - just get your shoes and let's go!"


She puts her hands on her hips - walks over real close to me - bends her head way back and says ... "Why can't they watch me ... the two of them together make one grown-up."

On the upside ... Okay, okay okay .... this is something I would have loved to have known about A. LONG. TIME. AGO! I can't tell you the number of times over the years that I would have been ... stacking me some kids ... to make me SOME GROWN-UPS!



-

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Monday, March 30, 2009

Hey, Little Girl ... Don't Get Me Started

Come on over and visit me today at mySA. I've got a new post up about my daughter Chloe called, Don't Get Me Started Little Girl.


Hope you have a great day!
-

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Friday, March 27, 2009

Happy Birthday Little Billy



Hosted by Cecily and Mama Geek



Little Billy IS ... his daddy's boy.

When he was small, he followed after me everywhere, just like his sisters. He clung to my leg when he was confronted by strangers. He was on my lap and in my arms for the beginning days of his life and seldom wanted to leave my side.

But ...

Somewhere along the way, he found himself a pair of child-sized scissors and ... he cut those apron strings and off he went to find his daddy. And, the only time he really looks for me now, is to help with homework or ... late in the evening when he wanders into my bedroom, crawls up on my bed and begs me to rub his back. I am always happy to oblige.

Following, for so many years, in his father's footsteps, has led Little Billy to many places he would not have experienced if he had stayed home, close by my side.

It has offered him a life filled with exciting adventures and manly errands. Of fast cars and dirty finger nails. Of time spent under the hoods of cars, in the aisle ways of Ace Hardware and Auto Zone, searching for parts and tools. Of time at the end of a pier with fishing lines strung into murky waters. Of peering through slits of deer blinds in the coldest part of the morning. Of sharing the front seat of a truck with his dad and engaging in manly conversations.

Little Billy's daddy grew up in rural Texas. He was a country boy. He learned to hunt and fish and aim a sling shot at glass bottles lined up on the railroad tracks. He learned to work on cars and trucks and did not worry that he smelt of grease and oil. He was not coddled by his parents and was allowed a childhood that encouraged roaming and wandering and adventure.


Little Billy's daddy does not coddle his son. He allows the boy to climb trees and is content to stand below the branches and smile up in amazement and pride. He hands his boy the largest rock he can find and encourages his son to toss the rock into rivers and streams and sometimes at the broad side of a barn. He stands over the boy's shoulder and steadies a man-sized rifle.

I often worry about Little Billy. "Keep him away from the alligators," I will insist, when I hear there are Texas gators in a nearby tank. "Make sure he watches for snakes - I am not going to be happy if you don't bring him home alive!" My fears and worries are never ending. "Make sure you quiz him on his spelling words," I will scream as they climb into the truck. "He's got a spelling test tomorrow." I think they laugh at me as they drive away.

Not too long ago, the phone rang in the early morning - I was still in bed. It was Little Billy calling from school.

"Hi, Mom," his voice was quiet, almost a whisper.

"Hi, Sweetie. What's up? What's the matter?"

"Nothing's wrong," he says, "Guess what I got on my math test?" He sounded very calm.

I sat up in my bed, "What? What did you get?" I hoped for good news.

"I got a 100," he said proudly.

I went on and on about how proud I was and then asked where he was calling from. He informed me that he stopped by the office to make the call, on the way to his next class.

"And ..." he went on quietly, "Dad wrecked the Corvette this morning," he offered nonchalantly. "But, you didn't hear it from me. I gotta go, Mom - see you after school."

On this morning, his dad had driven him to school early to complete a math test he had failed to finish the prior afternoon. On his way out of the driveway, he ran the rear end of the Corvette into the corner of a trailer - the damage was minimal.


I smiled a big smile when I hung up the phone that morning. While I was a bit worried about my husband's Corvette, the worry was replaced quickly with pride and smiles. Proud of a boy that took time out of his morning to call his mom. Proud of a boy that felt pride of the work he had accomplished. Proud of a boy that even though he would prefer spending his time in the woods or in the bed of a pickup truck on a back country road, he finds time to be aware that his future is dependent possibly on the worth of an A on a math test. A lesson his mother had been trying desperately to teach him. A lesson she was not certain he was grasping or embracing.

I also found it interesting that he switched sides - if for only a moment - to rat out his dad about the Corvette.

I think there might still be a bit of a bond between Little Billy and his mom. I might not know how to load a shot gun or clean a catfish, or be comfortable when I see my son on the top of the roof or slinging razor blades at a bull's eye painted on a sheet of plywood, but ... I do believe he might just be looking to me to help guide his little butt through school. He might just believe he will do good to achieve scholastic honors along with ... antlers he can mount on his wall.

HAPPY 12th BIRTHDAY, LITTLE BILLY!


May your life always be filled with adventure.

May you always realize how lucky you were to have such a wonderful father.

May you never forget that the part of my heart that is yours ... is overflowing with love and pride for my precious son.





-

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Thursday, March 26, 2009

I Don't Know No Hip-Hop

I have a new post up over at mySA called I Don't Know No Hip-Hop (a story about Alexis). I'd love to see you over there.

I also have a new post up On The Flipside if you'd like to come over there and visit me today.

Thanks for stopping by. Have a really good day.


-

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Wednesday, March 25, 2009

Guns, Pythons & Giggling Sisters

I am standing at the stove making dinner.


After a while, Alexis and Little Billy wander into the kitchen and make their way over to where I am. They each pull up a bar stool and begin to watch me cook.


They start to talk.


A bit of gibberish about this.


A bit of gibberish about that.


I am listening, but I am not joining in on their conversation.


The talk comes to a lull and Little Billy suddenly holds up his right arm, flexes his bicep muscle and encourages Alexis to feel how hard it is - his manly muscle.


She does.


She giggles.


Then, he looks over at his mother - who, by the way, is smiling a big ol' smile at her sweet boy's adorableness - he says, "Hey Mom ..."


"Yes," she answers.


Again ... he flexes his muscle real big and he says something peculiar - he says, "You got any mice or rats?" and gives a little smirk.


Turning the chicken in the skillet with a fork the mom looks up into her funny boy's face and she says, "Well ... of course I don't have any mice or rats. Yuck!" And she laughs.


He's so cute.


He smiles big and holds up his arms and flexes his big muscles again - he says, "Well then ... what will my great big Py-thons eat?" referring to his meaty arms.


Oh ... Alexis nearly falls off of her stool laughing so hard.


The mom giggles.


The mom says, "Maybe they can eat some ... chick-en," she lifts a drum-stick from the skillet with the fork.


On the upside ... The small boy did not think his mother was all that funny. The boy's small sister, however - did! She let out a long string of giggles and then squealed, "PY-THON?" *giggle, giggle, giggle*

The small boy - having his feelings a bit hurt - having his masculine ego bruised - threw out another story - one sure to protect his dignity.

"Mom - I got arrested yesterday at the mall," he raises his arms, flexes his muscles and continues, "For bringin' in ... these big GUNS."

He is very serious.

He is flexing very seriously.

The mom smiles.

She lets him have his moment.

Again ... the small sister giggles like crazy.
-

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Monday, March 23, 2009

She Cracks Me Up

Alexis has a head of hair.


Every single time Alexis comes from her bath, she retrieves her bottle of No More Tangles and her brush and comes to find me to brush her hair.


Well ... that's not exactly true.


Actually - she will get the spray and the brush, but she will seldom search me out to brush her tangled hair.


She hates - hates - hates - to have me brush her hair and will do anything to avoid having ME do it.


But ... eventually I will track her down, pull her out from beneath her bed (tee hee) and stand her beside me ... to smooth the tangles out of her ratty locks.


She is never - ever - happy!


She is never - ever - cooperative!


It is never - ever - fun - for either of us!


On this one night when I had finished up the CHORE of running the brush through her hair, she turned herself around and looked at her image in the mirror with a grumpy frown on her face and said loudly, "What's the matter with this?" pointing to the top of her head. "It needs a crack in it!" She pointed again at the slicked-backed hair and pooched out her lower lip ever so dramatically.


I giggled. "Uh ... you mean a ... part?" I said.


It was funny, but she refused to CRACK a smile.


On the upside ... I wanted to put a CRACK in it - from the get-go. No problemo - I'll give you a CRACK! And I did. And then ... she grabbed her No More Tangles spray and her brush, flipped her shiny, smooth hair over her seven-year-old shoulder ... and stomped on out of my room ... just like she has done every single other time I have ever helped her brush her hair *sigh*.

*Self portrait by Alexis - see that beautiful head of hair.*



-

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Friday, March 20, 2009

When ...



Hosted by Cecily and Mama Geek





When you search for me ...


With longing eyes ...





Please know I see you




When you speak to me ...


With gentle words ...




Please know I hear you





When you reach for me ...


To touch my hand ...





Please know I feel you



When you call for me ...


Above all others ...



Please know it thrills me




When you talk to me ...


About your troubles ...





Please know I'm listening




When you smile at me ...


With joy filled eyes ...





Please know I'm happy



When you are near me ...




My heart ...




Feels you



Hears you



Touches you



Sees you



Reaches out



For
You


-

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