Mom Fun

HELLO MOMS!!!

I found this questionnaire on FB and it sent me down memory lane.
Take the trip with me and answer the questions about your FIRST born.
Actually, I'm not picky . . . if one of your other pregnancies is more memorable, think of that one.
Feel Free to steal the questionnaire and repost. I certainly did.

1. Epidural? Yes

2. Father in the room? Yes, although what he was supposed to do remains a mystery to both of us.

3. Induced? Yes

4. Delivered in OR/Delivery Room? Or All-in-One-Labor Room? OR: and honestly, I'm so grateful that I was totally focused on 'getting that kid out' during those moments of rolling into OR. These places are scary-looking.

5. Know the sex before hand? Nope, opted for the surprise.

6. Did you deliver close to the due date? Yes, actually only a few days early. I think the DOC induced out of self-defense. I'd threatened to slid down the banister to speed things along.

7. Morning sickness? Oh, you betcha! Six weeks of the flu-like systems.

8. Cravings? Mexican food - anything spicy -- chocolate covered cherries. Yes, and sometimes together. That's why they're called cravings.

9. Pounds gained? 25 (It was those chocolate covered cherries.)

10. Sex of the baby? Girl

11. Place you gave birth? Ft Worth. I managed to deliver all (3) of my babies in the same hospital, with the same DOC, no less.

12. Hours in labor? 12 hours

13. Weight: 7lbs 13oz

14. Name: For those who know me well, you know my oldest daughter's name. For those who don't -- honestly, you don't need to.

15. Age now: 29

And I added a couple of my own:

16. First thing my husband said to the baby? 'This is your daddy speaking.' Of course, considering that he'd said those exact words to my tummy for 9 months, it's no shock that my daughter turned her head and blinked at him. He swears it was a 'wink' of acknowledgement. Maybe it was. Those two have always been thick as thieves.

17. Sweetest memory? The first moment I held her in recovery. Almost 8pm on a surreal quiet Friday evening, still the old fashioned recovery area (the open concept) except for the bleached white separating curtains. Lights low, some soothing tune on a radio at the nurse's station, and then the squeak of metal wheels across tile as a nurse wheeled over the bassinet. From the blanketed depths, she lifted this tiny mummified creature and laid her in my arms. I was no wide-eyed youngster, but I knew a moment of sheer terror. I didn't have the first clue how to peel my baby free of all the swaddling. Watching my confusion, that I'm sure mirrored hundreds before & after me, the nurse lifted edge-after-edge until there was my baby girl. In an instant, there was this perfect being, stretching out baby ivory hands with sudden freedom, yawning and blinking open light-blue eyes to owlishly stare at me. How could something so perfect be mine? I marveled. Because God is good, and blessings do happen.

*Come on Mamas! Let's hear your story! Copy and paste. Change my answers to yours.

Enjoy the trip down memory lane!

Summer Memories

Special shout-out to my writing friend,

Marsha R. West.

She put on my thinking cap for summer end.
What are you favorite/not so favorite summer time ends?

Marsha mentioned her first summer job and memories flooded back.

1st summer a bit over 16 and I went to work for Leonard’s (now Dillards) in the cosmetic department.

Three strong memories:

1) All women department – even in the men’s cologne.

2) Old-styled cash registers – counting change a requirement (loads of folks used cash for purchases. At least once a shift, I’d get some lady who dumped all her change on the glass counter-top and counted pennies/nickels/dimes until she made up the odd amount.)

OLD fashioned CC machines: remember the card swipers? No, not where you ran your card through the side of the POS machine. Nope, OLD-SCHOOL. Hand over your credit card, the sales person placed it on a ‘flatbed’ card swipe, loaded a 3-ply form on top, physically swipe flatbed arm over the card to make an imprint on the form, then fed the form fed through a slot in the old-styled cash register, price was entered, last four on card were entered, click amount, click credit, click VISA, MasterCard, AMX, click total, then if the stars lined up right it all went through. What could go wrong with this system? Everything. However, the good news? We weren’t inter-linked to the internet so as long as the store had power we could conduct those sales.

3) I came home smelling wonderful EVERY day. Always some new fragrance to try. Because the senior sales reps knew that young women wearing their fragrances were more likely to reel in men looking for a last-minute wife or girlfriend gift. I had loads of samples.

Heat – hours and hours of it.
Texas girl, remember.

Asphalt so hot that the tar bubbled in street cracks. (When we were little and constantly barefoot, my feet were tougher than the odd ‘tennie shoes’ my mom made me wear.) I wore Sunday shoes – white patent leather – that my dad had to buff out every Sunday morning because I couldn’t walk without scuffing my shoes, sandals for the beach and occasional trip to the discount store, tennis shoes (Ked’s) for the sticker fields that were the cut-through to the local 7-11. On the street, in the yard, even biking, we went barefoot. When they say shoe-leather tough, we really had the feet for it.

We really did fry an egg on the sidewalk.

Slip-N-Slides. It took until mid-October before the Slip-N-Slide rut in my parents’ front yard finally disappeared. Again, Texas girl – grass stays green a long time here.

Oh, but ours didn't come with a built-in bumper cushion. You stopped when you slid on the grass. Many a swimsuit turned permanently green.


Skateboards. Not high dollar durable fiberglass with titanium wheels. Not quite so elaborate. My dad cut out an oval from dated, stained plywood, sanded it down, drilled holes and connected a metal skate to the bottom, attached a rope through a hole in the front and off I went. From the ages of seven until . . . the ten-speed took precedence, I constantly rode the skateboard. Skinned knees, banged-up toes (no shoes, remember), tan lines from shorts and tanktops, freckles and life was wonderful.

Is it any wonder that we never wanted summer to end?

Did 100° heat keep us inside?

Absolutely not. There were sno-cones to eat; Slip-n-Slide contests; paths to explore; lemonade stands to build and man; dogs to walk and occasionally chase; hide-n-go-seek after dark, and fireflies to capture.

Be inside?

Not on a double-dog-dare.

Feeling Friday Fabulous

Been to the Chiropractor and he successfully put everything back where it went, and now it’s a lovely Friday morning.

We're headed for hot

But then it’s almost July 4th and in Texas . . . that means scorcher.

IT ALSO MEANS: MEMORIES

WATERMELONS

My dad grew up on a farm and told of working the fields in the summer. They’d pull a watermelon, put it in the ‘crick’ to cool, then by lunch, when they were more sweaty then dry, he and his brothers would pull the cooled melon and split it open on a rock. They ate the meaty center – best part and the rest wasn’t worth the effort. He'd call today’s watermelons ‘whimpy’. In his day a 30 to 40 melon was standard. Hence, why they could eat the center only. He always smiled when he told the story. Hot days, hard work and brotherhood. Yea, that’s worth smiling about.

BERRIES AND SUMMER FRUITS

Have you picked your own? Canned or made jam?

I remember standing in my mom’s kitchen – oh, so early for the summer rise (probably 8am) and stirring a boiling pot of fruit and sugar. The smell alone was close to Heaven, but then on a cold winter morning, with hot buttered toast and a smothering of that homemade jelly (Plum has always been my favorite) . . . that was truly Heaven times 2.

FIREWORKS

Always a favorite top to the 4th of July. Years ago, I purchased my kids (almost grown) those silly battery-operated toys that spun with light. You can only find them in stores a couple of times of year, but 4th is always a great time. Last year, my youngest decided I needed my own. Now, I can make light as well.

FAMILY

BBQs, way too much to eat, too many mosquitoes, lots of OFF, and such sweet memories.

I hope this Friday – whether you’re slaving over the typewriter or the BBQ pit – finds you fabulous, and ready to make new memories.

Texas Roller Derby

Lots of friends were enjoying a class reunion this weekend. Me? I tried something a bit new. Texas Roller Derby.


Never been? This event was at Blue Line Center in N. Richland Hills. 4 teams -- leagues -- skated. Two separate matches. This was at the beginning of the match and the National Anthem. Doesn't appear to matter what the sport in the good ole'USA. Before a match, everyone hits their feet for the National Anthem. The singer -- sorry, I didn't catch his name, but he's opened for a couple of local bands -- did a great job.





And then the crowds, friends, family and I'm assuming spectators simply lined the skating surface to hoot and holler for the upcoming matches. It's a feisty crowd, so if you plan to attend make sure to bring your loudest voice.





A bit hard to tell, but these aren't kids. Well, they're all kids to someone my age. But many of these are women with a little meat on their bones and a bit of true maturity in their smiles. Several of the skaters from the first match, merged into the crowd seated on the risers, and mingled with friends and families. Quite a few had their kids with them. It was awesome to watch these women skate all out, jamming through (there is a Jammer, a skater who must push through the block of bodies, and actually score the points), skidding onto the floor, bouncing hard against each other and still going after the win.





Want to see a match? Visit: Dallas Derby Devils for the next team times. Generally, once a month and on a Saturday night. Tickets were $13.00 in advance, $15.00 at the door, or you can buy a ticket directly from one of the skaters.



Programs were free with the purchase of a ticket. This warning tidbit was inside the front cover. It explains the mood and the general fun enjoyed by most at the Derby.

And most of all . . . welcome back to my porch. I've been on a long sabbatical. It's great to be back in land of Texas and Romance With a Texas Twist.

New York, New York

I'm sure there will be just short of a gazillion pics floating on blogs as the RWAers get back from conference and upload or download their cameras.

I didn't visit the Big Apple this year with the writing world, but instead toured it in March -- a bit damp -- with a group of HS students. Choir HS students. Let me start by saying, 'It's never quiet when you're with 16, 17 and 18 year-old singers. That old 'burst into spontaneous song' really does happen. Anywhere. Anytime. That aside, they were quite amazing. Unbelievably careful with each other considering how little sleep was really to be gained during the whirl-wind trip. Four days, three nights and no, we didn't stop. The first day started at 4am (time to meet the bus for departure to the airport) and ended around 11pm. Many of the little darlings hadn't slept in front of the 4am bus departure. We, supervising parents, had, however been to bed to fortify ourselves for the upcoming marathon. The choir directors were nothing short of miraculous. They not only kept going, like Energizer Bunnies, but managed to herd 39 teenagers all in the same direction. I marveled at the Herculean effort and again was reminded why my stint at substitute teaching lasted only a scant two years. It's simply exhausting.

This was my first trip alone with my youngest child, who was just short of her 17th BD at the time of our excursion. It was a wonderful adventure.

Best day . . .

Definitely the day we had 5 hours to ourselves. For those familiar with the streets of NY, we started our walk-about at the Donald Trump Tower, around 54th or 55th and came down 5th Avenue, window shopped at ridiculously expensive jewelry stores, stopped in a chic clothing store or two, enjoyed the dog-walkers and their broods and nannies a-plenty with more broods, past the NY Library, onto Macy's and it's wonderful wooden escalator, past the most decadent cheesecake known to a woman's hips and finally hit 32nd. A good stretch of the legs and we found Madison Square Garden. BTY: we were in town during March Madness, and with our lovely luck there was a game that night. Spawning Salmon have nothing on my attempt to head back uptown and to Time's Square against the surge of New Yorkers and out of towners that evening. With the subway rumbling beneath the streets and the stamp of New Yorkers by the tens of thousands, my daughter and I swam in the ambience that is New York.

Go again? You bet.

For those who enjoyed the fun of New York during the writer's conference, here's hoping your time amongst the skyscrapers was every bit as poignant as mine.

Kowboys for Kids . . . in Fort Worth, Texas

Christmas in November? Yep, it could happen. Especially, if you're a Cowboy.

Upcoming this Sunday, November 29th, 2009, Kowboys for Kids will host their 20th Annual Christmas bash to raise toys and donations for the quickly-approaching holiday season.

Kowboys For Kids

This year the event will be held at Pearl's Dance Hall & Saloon, located at 302 West Exchange Street, in the Stockyards area of Fort Worth, Texas.

The Live Music event will feature:
Carl Vaughn & Texas Country
Hill City Band
Durwood Strube
Landon Dodd
Kelly Spinks
Country Night Live
The Coachmen
Randy Brown
Riverwood Band
Jim Snider
Bob Prichard
Kristi Kaylin
Danny Edwards
Jerry Webb
And, many other great entertainers!
Quite a list of extraordinary musicians who are donating their time and talent for a great event for children.

Also, included at this event will be a Raffle for a 32" flat screen TV, a Silent Auction, a Live Auction, with loads of goodies.

Update on Pegus News

So, if you're looking for a way to kick up your heels and two-step into the holiday season, consider stopping by Pearl's between 2pm and 10pm on Sunday the 29th.

What to bring?
A $10.00 donation
or
An unwrapped gift or gift of clothing - equal to $10.00.

AND
A zest for a good time with Kowboys.

It's lovely on the backporch this time of year. I can barely get my fierce guard dog to come inside for a bite of boiled chicken. Okay, so it doesn't sound too good to you, but to my dog -- it's heaven in a bowl. Day-time temps hover in the low 70s and the night-time is cooling off into the 50s. So that means perfect Texas weather. We may even get rid of the mosquitoes before long.
Do drop by again.
Until then,
~Sandra

Helpful tips for October . . .

Some are short . . . some are lengthy, but all have a little merit to a lot or a lot of merit to a few. Enjoy the tips and stop by again. More will be posted.

Financial learning starts early:

*The road to fiscal grooming begins by setting the household standard. If certain chores must be completed by the child, or certain grades are expected on report cards, then be specific. Communicate those expectations. The choice to pay an allowance for these household requirements is every family’s personal decision. But it is important for parents to contemplate ‘bonus’ payments. Surpassing normal expectations may feel wonderful, but getting rewarded for those outstanding successes is doubly sweet. Consider payment for honor roll acceptance, dean’s list recognition, district band or choir accolades, completing merit badges or serving the community. Parents should take this idea and individualize it to the child. The actual size of the monetary bonus is of less importance than the parental recognition of the accomplishment. Striving for personal excellence is a life’s goal. Getting paid for it is simply the bonus.

Great Shoe shopping deals:

Go to: Zappos for some of the best shoes deals on-line. Affordable prices for trendy shoes . . . and best bit of news – this on-line store has a great return policy. Always be sure to check the fine print before buying, but loads have bought several pairs, made their final selections, and then returned the unworn – still brand-new – pairs.

For athletic shoes, try:

Go to Eastbay. Loads of friends have used this site to buy athletic footwear at a true discount price. They carry hard to find sizes at the same price. A total bonus if you’re fitting a large foot.

Looking for Shoes at The Mall:

Check your local mall to see if they boasts The Shoe Department. This particular chain buys the overstocks from major retailers then lines their shelves with the great buys. They carry up to a men’s size 15 in dress and athletic style shoes – and there’s quite a selection as well.

Need a fast Halloween costume: (Beware – sitting is tough in this outfit)

Two boxes one large (3 foot square) and one small (1 ½ feet to 2 feet square), aluminum foil, construction paper, a gray long sleeve shirt and solid pants – that’s it, the total remedy for an emergency Halloween costume. Seal one end of each of the boxes. Leave the other end open, and cut away the excess flaps. Cover both boxes solidly in aluminum foil. On the smaller box, pick a front side then cut two openings for eyes. On the larger box (opposite sides) cut two openings for arms to fit through. Then in that sealed end of the larger box, cut a hole large enough for the head to fit through easily. Use construction paper circles, squares or rectangles to decorate the outside of ‘Robot Man’ or ‘Robot Woman’. Slide the box body of the robot in place, followed by the head box and that’s it. Recommendation: wear a turtle neck shirt (or sweater depending on how cold it is in your piece of the world) so the box opening won’t rub against the wearer’s neck. Also, to keep the head in place, consider stapling elastic or even ribbon that can be tightened under the chin once the head piece is on. This tip will allow the wearer to turn their head without fear of the costume rotating off.

Excess wine remedy:

*Martha Stewart says if there’s excess wine left, fill ice trays and freeze for adding to soups and stews at a later time.
*My favorite Maxine, says, ‘What’s excess wine?’
*While I’m totally on board with Maxine’s take, it is always possible to have little too much wine left over.
*My remedy: Pour that wine in the ice tray, but stick a Popsicle stick in there as well. I’ve discovered sweating through kid’s soccer games and that long walk home from ‘fun in the park’ is always more enjoyable with a little something on a stick.

Alright, so there’s one for the kids . . . one for shopping and one for . . . well, the good stuff in life. Being a writer, there must be one to appease the grammarian in me.
Grammar:

*Beside – means next to (Jane walked beside Jack up the hill.)
*Besides – means in addition to (Besides Jack, who could have fallen down the hill so quickly?)

Re-gifting:

*My last tip is important with the holidays looming around the corner, and that’s the subject of re-gifting. Everyone does it. Okay, some folks just bury those elephants in the back of the closet and hope they never get a wild hair to clean, but for the rest of us, re-gifting is a way of life.
*Make sure to keep attached the birthday/anniversary/Christmas card or tag to the particular gift that you can’t wait to re-gift. Why? Because when names are drawn out of the hat for the Christmas exchange, it’s just plain tacky (however much of poetic justice it would be) to give back the re-gift to the original gifter. If for no other reason than to avoid why you hated the gift in the first place, make sure the re-gift finds a new home.

Thanks for stopping by my back porch. Weather's cool . . . if the rain ever stops. Here in Texas we complain if it rains and we complain if it doesn't. However, if you hear hammering in my front yard, you'll know I've gone back to work on my ark. Hey, I was a Girl Scout, after all, and we take that 'Be Prepared' motto seriously.
Do drop by again.
Until then,
~Sandra

Texas A & M Ring Day . . . .

Texas A & M is a school known for tradition . . . lots and lots of them. My daughter, a current Ag, loves this aspect of her school. This weekend, her father and I experienced another of these traditions with her. As she is entering the final stretch towards graduation, she qualifies for her Aggie ring. Understand, this isn't just any ring. Only one manufacturer; all rings are alike (there are a few variations, but anyone who wears the ring will recognize a fellow ring-wearer); before any student can purchase a ring, the university completes a 'Ring Audit', meaning the student must qualify; rings are only presented at specific ceremonies; and there is a lot of 'Whoop' hoop-la that goes with the presentation.

My daughter wears an Aggie T-shirt that says, "From the outside looking in, it's impossible to understand. From the inside looking out, it's impossible to explain."

More than one alumni from other schools, have mocked the Aggie tradition. (My Alma Marta isn't A & M, but our house has learned to bleed Maroon over the past several years.) Gotta tell you, the T-shirt really does say it all. If you're not an Aggie, or living with one, it's impossible to understand the intense pride and dedication to tradition. However, if you are one, it's a beacon which illuminates tenacity, and determination, and celebrates accomplishments.

So to my daughter, who is all things brilliant and beautiful, I say, 'You make my heart sing. I'm so proud that you've never quit. When it has been the most difficult thing you've attempted, you've 'ponied' up and followed through. You will be successful. Those in life, gifted with your tenacity and sense of determination, always are.

Happy Ring Day, sweetheart. May this be a moment you will always remember.

Procrastination is an art form . . .

How do I know? Watch a kid. They're professional stallers.

As a mom, an older mom whose kids show know better (there's the disclaimer), I've decided I shouldn't be required to answer stupid questions. After all, I got them to this age, successfully -- which means they still have all their appendages, can talk in full sentences, read full sentences, fuss with their siblings, and are intelligent enough to want a job that requires saying more than, 'Paper or plastic?'.

Stop! Don't send me hate email about how many of you worked in a supermarket. Face it. That's not a job any of US would want to repeat, nor would we want our kids stuck there.

All that said, stupid questions have been banned in my house.

Image my surprise the other day, when I was the guilty culprit of Stupid 101 and asked my kiddo why she'd procrastinated over a summer reading project until the very END of summer. She muttered around a half of dozen answers when I was suddenly hit by the figurative V8 hand and heard 'Duh!' rattle around my brain. She'd put it off because IT WAS EASIER. (Now, you understand the V8 thunk.)

Procrastination is an ART FORM because it's simply easier to put things off than do them immediately.

Does this revolutionary theory apply to kids only? If you answered, 'yes', V8 thunk yourself.

Who wants to rush into the kitchen after dinner and wash that sinkful of soaking pots and pans? Certainly not me. I've left pans soaking so long even the metal has pruned. ART FORM.

Who wants to swing into high gear and become the dusting fairy? Oh, please, if you do, email me straight away and I'll give you directions to my house. I've waited long enough to dust that my kids could use my coffee table as a chalk board (no chalk needed, just write in the dust) to figure their math problems. Not too depressing when it was simple math, but when there's enough dust for Calculus then procrastination has become an ART FORM.

If finally hit me squarely the other day when I tried to deposit a few royalty checks I'd been nesting on. My justification for bank-delay was that the checks weren't huge in monetary amount so no rush. Here's a banking tip: they really mean that whole we won't deposit a check that's more than 6 months old. And they're totally fussy about checks that were written in past years. Who knew? Oh wait, the bank said they'd supplied the answers in a pamphlet marked, 'Welcome to our bank. How to avoid extra fees, use the ATM and generally avoid doing anything stupid.' Yeah, I know I have that little treasure tucked away somewhere. I was about to read it. Really. I've only banked at this institution for twenty years -- give or take. Oops, ART FORM.

Tiny tip: the banks procrastinate, too. Deposit a check and try to get all your money at once. Ooooh no, they're waiting for funds to clear or the planets to align, whichever happens last by the way, before they'll dole out your own money. ART FORM!

All of this revelation has lead me to the conclusion that stupid questions can't be banned in my house. Inevitably, as projects follow summer, and kids procrasinate until the last minute, I'll be asking, 'Why did you wait so long?'

Psst, my kids don't know about the whole check issue. Let's just keep that on the DL (down low). It's not good for kids to know too much about their parents. It confuses them. That's my story and I sticking to it.

Happy writing every one. And if you're not writing today, 'Why did you wait so long?'

Drop by the porch again.
Until then,
~Sandra

School daze

And so the learning begins . . . again!

Time to tuck the kids back in school and move forward with the intent and determination to finish Trickle of Lies. I might love these characters, but at this point I hate the book -- just hung around too long and now it's time to cut it loose.

All that said, there was NO writing work this weekend as the fam and I spent a frantic time getting the oldest moved back to her university, up to the fourth floor and stuffed way too much stuff into way too tiny of a room.

Okay, maybe not that far up, but when I was carrying the 20th or 25th or 55th (it all blurs together) load, it certainly felt like we were bound for the heavens.

My oldest is blessed with the ability to pack -- a task she takes seriously, very seriously. As a result, nothing could be left behind. Believe me, there was nothing left to leave behind. Hubby dearest headed out to rent a trailer, absolutely certain, even she couldn't fill an enclosed trailer since she's moving away for just 9 months. My hubby dearest should never say never. 40 square feet of packed trailer followed us down the road. And believe me, my truck-driving hubby knows how to 'cube' a trailer -- that means to stuff stuff in every square inch. Of course, what goes in, must come out and in oldest daughter's case, then it must go up. Who wants to live on the bottom floor with all that high traffic noise? Um, wait a minute, I want her to live there so I don't need a chiropractor and traction to recover. If it weren't for her exceptional strong siblings, my oldest child would need professional movers because dear ole mom and dad were too tuckered out to go the distance. As I hung the two hundredth hanger (yep, clothes included) I wondered where did all this stuff come from? Why does she have two to one in the shoe department over me? I happen to love shoes, but I look like a pauper compared to her closet. My strapping son didn't need to go to the gym for a work-out -- his oldest sister was nice enough to supply that task. And my baby, who by the way stands 5'10" and truly towers over her mom, didn't need her cycling regiment for the day, either. 45 stairs X a zillion will get any body's heart a-pumping.

All said and moved in, however, we all felt her loss as we drove away from the university.

We've had a fabulous summer, hence, why my writing time has sucked. I'll be posting the cruise pics to prove it. Loads of family time does equal a crimp in the writing schedule.

So as my kids head off to school -- the boy is starting community college -- can't wait to blog about that experience, I'll be plopping my backside into the writing chair and getting busy.

Here's to surviving the 'daze' that surrounds the beginning of school and cheers to the normalcy of more writing.

Drop by the porch again. Naw, it's too hot to sit outside, still, but my A/C works great.

Until then
~ Sandra

Potato peeling tip

4th of July is on it's way, and as my family loves a great potato salad this video was just the ticket.

Here's to being an expert at potato salad:

Oxymorons

"We are a people who spend money we don't have on things we don't want to impress people we don't like."

Okay, that is a seriously great line . . . especially with the ring of truism in it.

I'd like to take credit, goodness knows, I like good writing; however, this piece of wisdom belongs to the man who wrote Why is God laughing?. Sorry, folks didn't catch his name in his interview on Good Morning, America. The gentleman who did remind me quite a bit of Mahatma Gandhi, sans the big nose, spoke eloquently about the oxymorons in our lives.

My husband, smart guy that he is, related another just a few days after I'd been turned on to this thought. While walking our dog -- sometimes it's more the dog walks us than we walk the dog -- but they were getting along down the bike trail when my hubby dearest noted a guy out tilling his garden for spring planting. The oxymoron was the hacking and coughing up one lung this old boy was doing while puffing away on a ciggy for the other lung. Even more of an oxymoron is that this guy will be planting a garden, fruits and veggies one must assume -- as in the healthy stuff -- yet he's poluting his lungs at a rate far faster than the fruits and veggies can save. Yep, Gardener Man was definitely an oxymoron.

Okay, don't get on the collective soap boxes and lecture me about smoking and the rights of smokers everywhere. I'm a reformed smoker so I get to point and laugh. However, the point is the oxymoron.

But there's more . . .

What about the folks who crave children, and then leave them to be raised by daycare and nannies? Okay, I get that sometimes both parents have to work to make all the ends meet and right now the ends might not be meeting at all. But if honesty won out, many folks could live in a smaller house, drive less expensive cars, take less grand vacations and make the budget balance on one salary.

Watch that soap box . . . I'm simply pointing out the oxymoron. If raising kids was the the most important thing, why would it be left to strangers?

That same tangent could certainly be pushed to the educational system. How can we, collectively, claim that education is the most important thing when we, collectively, don't lobby -- forget lobbying, how about storming the capitol -- and demand that teachers' salaries match the job we lay on them? Our oxymoron, collectively, is that we'll pay exorbitant prices to go watch athletes run around a field, high-powered cars drive in circles, etc. Point should be made.

So perhaps Oxymorons are a way of life.

What are some you've noticed?

Drop by the porch again
~Until later,
Sandra

Teaching and stuff

YES, I've been MIA . . . for several months now.

Long story, and perhaps at some point I'll share it.

However, I'm back.

As I'm teaching (no this is not a story that one of my students wrote), I decided this should be a warning to all parents about taking serious interest in your kiddo's homework before it leaves the house.

Schedules are busy, time is tight, but read this lovely 3rd graders story and you'll see that as a parent, we simply can't be too busy for a little proofread.

Hope this makes you smile.
Stop by the porch again. I'm waiting for the ice to melt and a bit warmer breeze.
Until later
~Sandra

Two days deep into school and what's happened?

My three not-so-munchkin-sized kids started to school this week. Everyone hit the academic buildings on Monday morning -- okay, the college student doesn't start until noon on Mondays. That seems so wrong in the real world, but makes perfect sense in the college environment. So this year it was two high schoolers and one collegiate preppy.

What changes when the kids hit that higher level of learning?

Did I buy fewer supplies?
The requirement is for fewer boxes of crayons, but more map pencils. The glue in the bottle stage has passed, as it's on to the all important glue stick mania. School note: there is no such thing as too many glue sticks in the house. Fewer spirals, the cheap 100 page ones are obsolete, but more of the 3 to 5 subject variety. Of course, those are never on sale -- ANY WHERE! No construction paper or Manila paper, but colored pens are a must and some must be fine point, while others are medium point and just for good measure, please throw in a Sharpie or two. Still need book covers, dividers, scads of 3 X 5 and 4 X 6 cards. Oh, and never mistake that buying only one size of note cards will suffice. Ah contra, if 3 X 5 cards are purchased, then the demand will be for 4 X 6. Same with three-ring binders and the color choice. If last year every band and choir student for the entire region was required to purchase a navy 3-ring binder, then rest assured the entire stack secreted away for a smooth school start will not be this year's color choice. The note will say black or red or fuchsia, but guaranteed it won't be the stocked color.

Did I spend less money? Are you nuts? I said two high schoolers and one college student. There is never enough money set aside! NEVER. Did I point out never?

Was the first day less stressful? No, but at this point of fifteen odd school years, we've grown so accustomed to the controlled chaos of morning insanity that it almost seems natural.

Is the school drop easier?
For the first time in many years, actually for the first time ever, I need only see my dumplings to one school building. The college student would take serious umbrage if I tried to walk her to class. So, it's one drop at the high school then I'm home again, home again, like pinky pig.

Did the house seem empty, lonely even, after they'd left? Absolutely. Some things, such as missing a child, is a constant in a parent's life. The minute my oldest moves back to college, even knowing that she loves her university and is geared for learning, I miss her. When the high schoolers were safely ensconced in their home away from home for seven daily hours for the next 178 school days, the house seemed too large, strangely silently, and definitely lonely.

As for the first two days of school . . . well, we're all still standing and that's something important. No one absolutely HATES a teacher, YET! Everyone has someone to eat lunch with, to walk the halls (campus) with, and the work load looks overwhelming as it always does at the beginning.

The best part is that they always come home at day's end -- I do need to wait for 'non-football' weekends to get my college student home, but they're here for dinner and conversation, sharing parts of their day and more importantly, parts of themselves.

My 6'5" son has dubbed me 'Mini-Mom. I'm not exactly sure when I became the smallest in my house, but short I am compared to the gentle giants that I raise. Short or not, I feel a thousand feet tall when they rush in the house to tell some terrific tidbit about their day. Some things don't change at all.

Summer Movies

Ooh, I just love summer for the laziness that comes embedded in the forever days. While some of you are sweating and working away -- whether under the blast of overworked A/C units or in the blaze of Texas sun -- a few of us find a certain moment each day when 'Summer Time' shows up. It's more a state of mind than an actual tick on the clock. It could show up first thing in the morning, when I'm trotting my dog around the block before the sun becomes ferocious. It could be late evening, when I'm swatting away mosquitoes and cussing the latest device I've purchased that guarantees 'nary a skitter for a mile' (apparently the ad companies idea of a mile and mine are a mite different). It could be mid-day when I'm headed to the water park to bake my feet on so much concrete and boil in the pretense of sun-block. But at least once a week or so, I find 'Summer Time' rolled into a movie.

The massive Hollywood producers swear their studios save the best films for when kids are loose from school and driving 'Miss Daisys' or alias their moms around the bend. Perhaps summer films are really better. Perhaps, we, Miss Daisys, are plain-and-simple more desperate to shoo the rugrats out of the house for awhile. And perhaps, sliding into the coolness of A/C that someone else is supplying and paying for, sucking in the tantalizing scent of buttered popcorn, and experiencing the thrill of low lights, loud sounds, and larger than life heroes and heroines makes summer movies so attractive. Whatever the combination, I'll admit to being drawn into the advertising scheme of those Hollywood producers.

This past week, my youngest daughter and I went to see IRONMAN. Robert Downy Jr. still has great eyes and does a decent job in this film and Gwyneth Paltrow has always been one of my favorites. The plot is predictable, but works fine. Actually, it does have a bit of that anti-war sentiment if one considers where part of the film takes place, but I liked the 'whole' higher-learning, we-can-become-more-than- what-we've-always-been angle. And the film wasn't preachy, if that's a concern. Robert Downy has a great character arc in this movie. Overall, it's just one of those fun summer films and the exact anti-dote for a hot Texas afternoon.

As it's Sunday afternoon, and the heat is still baking the ground, we're headed out to lite up the grill. Nothing fancy, nothing automated about our grill -- still done with a serious dose of lighter fluid and a box of kitchen matches at our house. Don't stand to close now, you hear.

But do come by the porch again soon. I'll be sipping something cool and chasing mosquitoes. They just love fresh meat.
~Until later,
Sandra

Spring Break

Oh, I so wanted to bask in the sun this week . . . hey, I live in Texas, I should get to bask in March if I want. HOWEVER, mother nature had other plans and it rained, yep, we're talking real cats and dogs type of rain. Everyone from the middle of the nation on east has seen the effects I'm talking about.

Instead of sun basking, I've been cleaning. What drudgery, but after two sick kids there wasn't much choice. Do these kiddos not realize they're wasting my valuable sun basking time? Nope, probably not. But I did draw the limit after 12 loads of laundry. If ain't clean by now, too bad.

My other task this week has been writing -- and frankly, when my head is stuffed in the computer because I'm creating, it doesn't matter if it's raining, the kids are sick, or the timer is ringing on the dryer . . . it's all good. So, I'm pushing through hard and fast on Trickle of Lies, trying to get these characters to talk nicely to one another. It may just work. But it has to be finished. Two of my beta readers are asking almost every week when they'll get to see the finished draft. Time for stalling is over.

What did you do on your spring break?

Feel free to share.
Until then
~Sandra

More mom musings

After parenting for almost two decades, I’ve washed/dried/folded more loads of laundry than I care to remember; survived a tantrum or two; mended broken arms, bumped heads, and battered hearts; enjoyed a passel of got-to-squeeze-you-so-tight hugs, sloppy good-night kisses, and ‘Mom, you’re the best’ declarations. After culling through mounds of brought-into-the-house dirt, banging against the rock-hard determination of my kids, and traversing the shifting sands of children’s needs, I’ve managed to mine a few tidbits of gold.

Enjoy, and may they add a little extra wisdom to your parenting arsenal.

Don’t skimp. Buy the ‘64’ pack of crayons for school. Oh, and get one for home, too. There is no such thing as too-many crayons.

Don’t believe marketing labels – pencils boxes (or pouches), backpacks, and lunchboxes have a limited lifespan. Rule of thumb – the younger the child, the shorter that span.

Do expect your daughters to raid your closet, especially for school ‘old-fashion’ or ‘dress-up’ day.

Do buy cool lunch snacks.

Do buy good fluffy pillows – they really do sleep better.

Do supply your child with a reading ‘book’ light. Even a spare flashlight will encourage reading in a child.

Do let kids build an indoor tent no matter how many sheets and blankets you need to refold.

Back to don’t believe marketing labels. Washable markers – aren’t.

Do buy stain stick in the JUMBO size.

One more time for marketing labels: Don’t believe those expensive athletics shoes will survive ‘inexpensive’ mud puddles.

Care to share? Add yours in the comments section.

Mom Musings

After visiting several recent ‘mom’ blogs, it suddenly occurred to me that I have a vast amount of "occasionally" useful information.

That’s simply because I’ve survived all the parenthood years . . . nothing more complex than that.

Here are a few of my mom musings:

1) Be prepared to be blamed for everything: lost socks, missing homework pages, runaway gym clothes, and my favorite . . . the absentee shoes that it’s simply not possible for you, as a mom, to wear.

2) That, of course, leads to the second mom musing . . . be expected to know where everything is:
the mayo jar stuffed behind the pickles, the jam, and month-old lettuce;
the bike lock key no one has needed for the past three years;
the final and single remaining school project portfolio that was purchased six months ago and stuffed in a drawer, some drawer, some where in the house.

3) Have the right answer. This one gets a bit tricky as moms can be asked to explain anything and EVERYTHING from:
a complicated, undecipherable algebra formula;
to why that kid in school started the vicious rumor;
or even why the boy who your daughter is simply crazy about . . . isn't simply crazy about her.

4) Have a ready and endless supply of: various-sized Styrofoam balls, colored pipe cleaners, and balloons/sponges/markers/poster board for last minute science projects; old pantyhose (fishnet preferable) for the next, latest, greatest art-drama-Halloween costume, and; of course, an over-the-top-better-than-anyone-else’s birthday gift for the invitation received just today.

5) Final mom musing . . . be calm. When all those around you are whining, flaring dramatic, fighting with siblings, or simply sighing loud and long because life is unfair and no one understands them.

They say it takes a community to raise a child. I suppose that should mean everyone pitches in with really terrific, unfailing advice.

Me, personally, I’d rather the community just take the kid off my hands for a day or so. Keep the advice and give moms a break.

I say, moms need to stick together like three-day-old peanut butter, so share your great Mom advice.