On Saturday I took Chase and his friend to Great Adventure. It was one of the best days I have had in a long time, and I have some great days, so that's saying a lot.
Our day started with a trip to through the safari. We've gone through this before. Many times. Here, in Florida at Disney World, all sorts of animal sightings. For some reason seeing animals right up close is fascinating to us. Zoos I don't do. They upset me. This safari trip was different though. Maybe it was the energy of those two little boys, or that it was just me as the adult this time, or the day, or the pull of the moon. I don't know why I loved it so much. I just did.
The first animals we saw were these big ostriches. Big huge feathered birds that walk around like they own the place. Tapping their big beaks on people's car windows. Poking their necks back and forth. Standing in the middle of the road. They reminded me of the moose at Yellowstone Park. The first one you see is exciting. You stop, admire, take a few pictures. By the third or fourth, you are just zooming by, jaded by the previous sightings. On to more interesting, more elusive animals.
Next animal, the elephant. Big, gorgeous, wrinkled, grey animals.
"I feel sorry for them," Vinnie said.
"Me too...."
This why seeing animals in captivity is hard. I always try to justify my sadness by the fact that my money for the tickets might be helping them somehow.
"What's next, Boys?" I ask.
Chase looks at the map. "I think we've got some zebras coming up," he told me.
The zebras are my absolute favorite. Right? I think they are so gorgeous. We took some pictures.
The whole ride through the safari were various animals with big antlers. I wasn't allowed to stop or pull over for them because apparently they look to much like deers and deers are a dime a dozen and we've got a big day here. No time for boring deer like looking animals.
Jay-ded.
We went through the rest. The lions and tigers made me the saddest. There homes weren't that nice and watching that pacing of a lion in a small area makes me feel claustrophobic. We saw bears that were so cute, big black ones, brown bears, all of them reminded us of dogs. The way their snouts looked and their head movements. I loved them. The baboons were cool too. One baby baboon was apparently upset about something and pouting. An older one, we thought the mother was trying to "talk" to it. She kept putting her arms up with a "I don't know what's wrong with you," gesture. It was so human like. I just don't know where they came up with that whole evolution thing? ;) That's a joke, I know we evolved from Flannery.
So we were nearing the end and Chase says, "Don't you think that the geese just ruin everything?" Now this made me laugh from the moment it came out of his mouth because I knew exactly what he was talking about but I wanted to hear what he had to say. "What do you mean they ruin everything?" I prompted. "You know, they're everywhere. I have to see them all the time," he answered, slightly disgusted. I have been laughing about it ever since.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Locked In Target
"If by accident you got locked in Target, you could live... forever."
That's what Saige said to me on our way in tonight.
Target to me is like cell phones. I know there was a time that it/they weren't around. I just don't really remember it all that clearly. Kind of like my life before marriage. I know it existed. It's all just very unclear how we got from there to here.
So as we walk in to get Chase the freshly made twice baked potatoes that I can only get at Target we continue her thought.
"No, really Mom. They have everything. They have groceries and clothes and tv's!"
"I bet there's a shower around here somewhere too, if not, I guess you could just wash up in the sink." I add.
"Right! They have shampoo and conditioner and even hair straighteners," she says happily.
"Yes, you could live in Target and look good doing it!" I add.
She ignores me.
We are walking down the aisle going for that grocery section at 7.30 on a Thursday night. It's dark outside and rainy and a damp and really we should be home.
"Hey look! That's Aunt Sarah over there!" she says.
Of course it is. It's friggin' Target, why wouldn't we run into someone?
Where did I used to shop for nonsense and twice baked potatoes? I can't even vaguely remember. I think one time when I need a garden hose I went to K-Mart but there was no Wegmans those days so I don't know where those potatoes could have come from. They had to come from somewhere.
Maybe I made them. Maybe I pulled out my big kitchen aid mixer thing (that I got as a wedding present from that foggy but really happened event) and I put it on the counter and I peeled some potatoes while I chatted on the phone with the long curly cord that was attached to the wall and I made some of those twice baked potatoes. Maybe. Unlikely but I can't think of a better explanation.
After we got through our Target get together with Aunt Sarah, Viv and Jude we hurried down the aisle because by this point Chase was calling from his Iphone to Saige's Iphone wondering where we were. Just like I used to do back in 1979 when I was a ten year old kid and my mom was out shopping. Not.
"On our way," Saige lied way to skillfully for my liking.
"Oh my God! Oh no! Oh my God!" I yelled.
"Are there none left?" Saige asked as we stared at the spot where the potatoes should have been.
"Oh man, he's going to be mad. That was all he wanted. What can I get him that he would like as much?" I asked as I scanned the other pre made foods for something he liked.
"Sushi?" Saige said.
"They don't have that here," I said.
" That's the one thing Target doesn't have!" she said, "I guess you couldn't live here long, Mom," she added knowing my great love for the chance of mercury poisoning.
I guess she's right on point cause I don't see a wine list sitting around anywhere either.
Target needs to step it up if they want me squatting there anytime soon.
That's what Saige said to me on our way in tonight.
Target to me is like cell phones. I know there was a time that it/they weren't around. I just don't really remember it all that clearly. Kind of like my life before marriage. I know it existed. It's all just very unclear how we got from there to here.
So as we walk in to get Chase the freshly made twice baked potatoes that I can only get at Target we continue her thought.
"No, really Mom. They have everything. They have groceries and clothes and tv's!"
"I bet there's a shower around here somewhere too, if not, I guess you could just wash up in the sink." I add.
"Right! They have shampoo and conditioner and even hair straighteners," she says happily.
"Yes, you could live in Target and look good doing it!" I add.
She ignores me.
We are walking down the aisle going for that grocery section at 7.30 on a Thursday night. It's dark outside and rainy and a damp and really we should be home.
"Hey look! That's Aunt Sarah over there!" she says.
Of course it is. It's friggin' Target, why wouldn't we run into someone?
Where did I used to shop for nonsense and twice baked potatoes? I can't even vaguely remember. I think one time when I need a garden hose I went to K-Mart but there was no Wegmans those days so I don't know where those potatoes could have come from. They had to come from somewhere.
Maybe I made them. Maybe I pulled out my big kitchen aid mixer thing (that I got as a wedding present from that foggy but really happened event) and I put it on the counter and I peeled some potatoes while I chatted on the phone with the long curly cord that was attached to the wall and I made some of those twice baked potatoes. Maybe. Unlikely but I can't think of a better explanation.
After we got through our Target get together with Aunt Sarah, Viv and Jude we hurried down the aisle because by this point Chase was calling from his Iphone to Saige's Iphone wondering where we were. Just like I used to do back in 1979 when I was a ten year old kid and my mom was out shopping. Not.
"On our way," Saige lied way to skillfully for my liking.
"Oh my God! Oh no! Oh my God!" I yelled.
"Are there none left?" Saige asked as we stared at the spot where the potatoes should have been.
"Oh man, he's going to be mad. That was all he wanted. What can I get him that he would like as much?" I asked as I scanned the other pre made foods for something he liked.
"Sushi?" Saige said.
"They don't have that here," I said.
" That's the one thing Target doesn't have!" she said, "I guess you couldn't live here long, Mom," she added knowing my great love for the chance of mercury poisoning.
I guess she's right on point cause I don't see a wine list sitting around anywhere either.
Target needs to step it up if they want me squatting there anytime soon.
Friday, August 6, 2010
Reason Number Five Hundred And Sixty Three
that I bow down and pray every time my son walks in the room.
Chase is in the art room of my studio. I am out front in the store, about 10 feet away from him. He calls his friend Matt on the phone. They discuss who is going to sleep over at who's house. Chase doesn't even bother asking me because he knows for a fact, like he knows his own hand, that I will say, "Yes," to whatever he asks of me. He knows that I will probably even go so far as to say, "Of course Sweet and Precious Angel." That's just how we roll.
So he's on the phone with Matt and Matt has to ask his mom something. I hear through the phone, "Mooooooooooommmmmmmmmmm. MMMMOOOOooooooooommmmm. MMMMMMMOOOOOOMMMMM."
All of the sudden it starts to get louder... "MMMMMMMOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMM."
I realize I can hear it more because he has put it on speaker and now he's walking towards me with this big grin on his face. He says to me, "Can you hear him?"
I smile and shake my head yes.
"What??" Matt demands.
"Nothing," Chase says as he looks at me again and shakes his head.
It was a thing of great beauty. He totally got why it was so obnoxious and funny at the same time and he wanted to share the love with me.
That was really probably number like one million gazillion but I thought five hundred and sixty three had a nice ring to it.
Chase is in the art room of my studio. I am out front in the store, about 10 feet away from him. He calls his friend Matt on the phone. They discuss who is going to sleep over at who's house. Chase doesn't even bother asking me because he knows for a fact, like he knows his own hand, that I will say, "Yes," to whatever he asks of me. He knows that I will probably even go so far as to say, "Of course Sweet and Precious Angel." That's just how we roll.
So he's on the phone with Matt and Matt has to ask his mom something. I hear through the phone, "Mooooooooooommmmmmmmmmm. MMMMOOOOooooooooommmmm. MMMMMMMOOOOOOMMMMM."
All of the sudden it starts to get louder... "MMMMMMMOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMM."
I realize I can hear it more because he has put it on speaker and now he's walking towards me with this big grin on his face. He says to me, "Can you hear him?"
I smile and shake my head yes.
"What??" Matt demands.
"Nothing," Chase says as he looks at me again and shakes his head.
It was a thing of great beauty. He totally got why it was so obnoxious and funny at the same time and he wanted to share the love with me.
That was really probably number like one million gazillion but I thought five hundred and sixty three had a nice ring to it.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Just Plain Scary
So I'm driving my child to his father's house and on the street corner are the Crazy Pro Lifer Wacknutters. Yup, that's what they are. Crazy. You have to be crazy to hold up a sign of a bloody fetus in the car window directly where a child is sitting. Only a stone cold freak would do that. That's not opinion, that's plain fact. Be pro life all you want. Sing song's about it. Read books. Pray for it. But keep your disgusting posters out of my car window. It's weird and gross. I am wondering when they will start just bringing actual real live dead fetus's to the street corner and parading them around. Maybe they could build them a float. Maybe the float could be a big big pregnant woman on her back with her legs up in the air and a broken hanger by the crotch. They could hang all the dead fetus's from the side and thumb tack pictures of real woman who have had abortions to the side of the pregnant lady. That's a thought.
So I was driving home thinking about this, getting more and more irritated. And I thought, I should get out and talk to them. I totally want to take some pictures for my friend who referenced their existence last night and was the one that actually started me wondering where I could get my hands on some dead fetus's to share with them. So it was odd that they were out there in such full force this morning. I guess all the soup kitchens where they usually volunteer are closed. I was all ready to go when I got a txt from my precious angel of a friend that lives down in Florida. He said, "Good morning Gorgeous. Have a spectacular day." It stopped me from ruining it by bothering with the crazies.
I got home and called him to thank him for pulling me out of that rat trap and we started talking about abortion and a documentary he had seen called 12th and Delaware that was produced by the same women that did "Jesus Camp." I youtubed them both. Scary.
Wait, is youtubed not a word?
"Jesus Camp," is the most disturbing thing I have seen since, well, since that fetus poster. I'm just going to say it. People are nuts. In it the woman that runs the camp actually says, "There are two kinds of people in this world, those who love Jesus and those who don't." Really? Is that all the kinds of people there are? What about those that don't know for sure, or those that just like him, or those that think, "well... he's kinda cute, maybe I love him...," what about Jews for Jesus (do they count for the "for" or "against" side), what about people that love Jesus but are gay, do they fit in? What about those people that like sprinkles on their ice cream? Whose side are they on?
Two kinds of people in the world...
No wonder there are so many wars.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Judge Me
Or not.
Judgement. Judgmental. Mental. Mental case. Case study. Nobody wants to be a case study. Just like no one wants to be in the system. Right? Maybe...
Here's the bottom line. Who are you to judge?
I have a gay brother. A long time ago I started feeling really sorry for people who judge other people. My brother is the most amazing, kind, understanding, loving, person on the face of the earth (cept you). There were certain people, who I will not name now because who really cares who they are, who judged him. Judged him for who he found attractive, for who he loved, for who he chose to spend his time with. It made no sense to me at all. For real. As a very young person I just couldn't wrap my head around why one person would care who another person loved. And who they had sex with? Who cares? What business is it of anyone's?
So I had these kids of my own. I worked my ass for their entire lives for them to see people for who they are. To not discriminate for color or religion (unless they're catholic, cause frankly the catholics scare me) :). Their father and I have all sorts of characters for friends. Some are black, some are white, we've got a few Chinese ones in there, some gay, some straight, a bipolar or two, some tattoos, perhaps a piercing here or there, a couple super rich ones, a few that don't have a penny to their name, some crazies, some straight up Republicans too! We accept all kinds. Not the mean ones though. We try to quietly squeeze them out. I can handle just about anything but cruel.
So this has been my mission in life for the past 12 years. I'm not kidding about that. I have told my kids from the start, "You don't have to be the smartest, you don't have to be the fastest, the richest, the most popular, or the one with the best eyes (although they are), you do have to be the nicest though. Even when the other person is mean. Just be nice. It will take you so far."
I'm almost sorry I have been so insistent about that now. Cause here's the thing. My son has this friend who's parents are going through a divorce. The father in the divorce is one of the most judgmental people I have ever had the misfortune of meeting. He is passing this trait along to his children. They make fun of other people. They disparage gay people. They look down upon people with piercings or tattoos. That just about rules out my entire family. (My son got his cartilage pierced the other day, it's his third piercing, he's twelve). So the kid from the other family says mean things to my son. He makes fun of people, he is basically taking after his father who acts like a complete asshole. My son has listened to his nonsense and carrying on and said repeatedly, "I'm sorry you feel that way. I will always be your friend." That's how he was brought up. On one hand, I am so glad that his heart works that way. His compassion is endless, his friendship forever. On the other hand, I am teetering on the edge of telling him to say, "I'm sorry you feel that way. Go f yourself."
So this is my dilemma. To collapse into my ego and let my child fight a battle that he has no place in or to stick with what I have always believed and tell him to only be kind.
I chose the middle ground. I told him to send out good thoughts to his friend but for the time being they wouldn't be hanging out anymore. There was going to be some space in between.
I love that term.
Space in between.
We were driving in the car yesterday when I told him that. I felt bad cause this kid used to be his best friend. He just looked at me and nodded.
Cause he gets "it."
Three earrings and all.
Judgement. Judgmental. Mental. Mental case. Case study. Nobody wants to be a case study. Just like no one wants to be in the system. Right? Maybe...
Here's the bottom line. Who are you to judge?
I have a gay brother. A long time ago I started feeling really sorry for people who judge other people. My brother is the most amazing, kind, understanding, loving, person on the face of the earth (cept you). There were certain people, who I will not name now because who really cares who they are, who judged him. Judged him for who he found attractive, for who he loved, for who he chose to spend his time with. It made no sense to me at all. For real. As a very young person I just couldn't wrap my head around why one person would care who another person loved. And who they had sex with? Who cares? What business is it of anyone's?
So I had these kids of my own. I worked my ass for their entire lives for them to see people for who they are. To not discriminate for color or religion (unless they're catholic, cause frankly the catholics scare me) :). Their father and I have all sorts of characters for friends. Some are black, some are white, we've got a few Chinese ones in there, some gay, some straight, a bipolar or two, some tattoos, perhaps a piercing here or there, a couple super rich ones, a few that don't have a penny to their name, some crazies, some straight up Republicans too! We accept all kinds. Not the mean ones though. We try to quietly squeeze them out. I can handle just about anything but cruel.
So this has been my mission in life for the past 12 years. I'm not kidding about that. I have told my kids from the start, "You don't have to be the smartest, you don't have to be the fastest, the richest, the most popular, or the one with the best eyes (although they are), you do have to be the nicest though. Even when the other person is mean. Just be nice. It will take you so far."
I'm almost sorry I have been so insistent about that now. Cause here's the thing. My son has this friend who's parents are going through a divorce. The father in the divorce is one of the most judgmental people I have ever had the misfortune of meeting. He is passing this trait along to his children. They make fun of other people. They disparage gay people. They look down upon people with piercings or tattoos. That just about rules out my entire family. (My son got his cartilage pierced the other day, it's his third piercing, he's twelve). So the kid from the other family says mean things to my son. He makes fun of people, he is basically taking after his father who acts like a complete asshole. My son has listened to his nonsense and carrying on and said repeatedly, "I'm sorry you feel that way. I will always be your friend." That's how he was brought up. On one hand, I am so glad that his heart works that way. His compassion is endless, his friendship forever. On the other hand, I am teetering on the edge of telling him to say, "I'm sorry you feel that way. Go f yourself."
So this is my dilemma. To collapse into my ego and let my child fight a battle that he has no place in or to stick with what I have always believed and tell him to only be kind.
I chose the middle ground. I told him to send out good thoughts to his friend but for the time being they wouldn't be hanging out anymore. There was going to be some space in between.
I love that term.
Space in between.
We were driving in the car yesterday when I told him that. I felt bad cause this kid used to be his best friend. He just looked at me and nodded.
Cause he gets "it."
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Ha Ha Omg
The appropriateness of things often eludes me if I find them funny. My kids are the ripe old ages of 11 1/2 and 12 1/2 now. They seem more like friends at times than my children. They are extremely polite and are so aware of other people and what is right and wrong that I have no problem talking to them about anything and sharing things that others might not get. They are my children after all. I get to decide. I have this friend. He's gay. He's my buddy. My kids call him Gaddy as in Gay Daddy. They don't find this the slightest bit odd, or if they do, they like it.
On Sunday I took my kids to the beach for a few days. We spent the car ride down listening to music and talking. They had been at camp for two weeks and so much to say. Unfortunately a lot of it revolved around a very disturbed friend they have whose parents are going through a divorce. My kids are living through this divorce and have more pain than they had from the break down of their own family. The little boy at camp told them how he was planning on buying a gun when he was 18 and shooting his mother. My kids might be mature but they are still kids. In the past year they have lived through the death of their grandfather, the separation of their parents, the death of their dog, and one of their friends mother and her 21 year old boyfriend murdering her father. It's enough already. They don't need to hear about their good friend planning the death of his mother. It's to much. So we talked and talked and talked. The more they talked and shared the more I was so proud of them and frankly so proud of their father and I. Our marriage might not have worked out but we did something right because my kids are so beyond their years in understanding and compassion that we couldn't have screwed them up that bad.
So we got to the beach after this very intense car ride and were welcomed by my kookiest of friends. She was all ready with a new Ludacris song for me called Sexting. It's now Saige's ring tone on her phone. Just the "Ha ha, omg, lol, kit, smiley faces, x and o's, lmfao." It was so unbelievably inappropriate. A song about Tiger Woods but we laughed about it for two days. Whenever there was the slightest bit of quiet someone would start singing those lines to themselves quietly. "Ha ha, o m g, l o l, k i t, smiley faces, x and o's, l m f a o!" Either that or the old favorite, "My Chick Bad." Mother of the Year.
I am insanely in love with them.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
I Just Want Them To Have Purpose
So here's the dealio, friends (if anyone is still listening, which I doubt). I moved. You (Kathy and maybe Twist) know this. I moved into town. There is hustle and bustle, there are work men and early morning joggers, there are the lawyers that are rushing into the courthouse, the men selling newspapers in the middle of traffic, the bus drivers, the kids walking to school and of course the woman next door diligently watering her plants daily.
And then there are the people that stand on the corner of my block holding up posters of bloody fetus's.
It's not a pretty thought but it's the truth. And the thing is... I just don't get it. I mean, of course I get they are not for women choosing what to do with their own bodies. I totally get that. And surprisingly enough, it doesn't bother me. I don't care what they think. I actually don't even care that there are standing there with odd looks on their faces and bizarre posters looking like they belong in the land of the misfit toys from that Christmas special with the heat miser.
The thing I don't quite understand is what there purpose is? Is it to shove their views down others throats at the crack of dawn when people are starting their days? Is it to harass young people who are in want of an abortion? Is it cause they have nothing else to do?
Here's what I think (and we all know that I control all of God's creatures, just ask Crazydave) I think instead of coming to my corner they should go volunteer at a woman's shelter and help people in need, maybe at a soup kitchen? Or, or, or... they could be actually working at a paying job to earn money to help pregnant teens that don't want an abortion to pay for their medical bills. They could help old people run errands, they could help old people across the street, they could clean up our parks, they could pick up recycling.
They could do something other than slow down traffic in rush hour.
Let's all think "greater good."
And then there are the people that stand on the corner of my block holding up posters of bloody fetus's.
It's not a pretty thought but it's the truth. And the thing is... I just don't get it. I mean, of course I get they are not for women choosing what to do with their own bodies. I totally get that. And surprisingly enough, it doesn't bother me. I don't care what they think. I actually don't even care that there are standing there with odd looks on their faces and bizarre posters looking like they belong in the land of the misfit toys from that Christmas special with the heat miser.
The thing I don't quite understand is what there purpose is? Is it to shove their views down others throats at the crack of dawn when people are starting their days? Is it to harass young people who are in want of an abortion? Is it cause they have nothing else to do?
Here's what I think (and we all know that I control all of God's creatures, just ask Crazydave) I think instead of coming to my corner they should go volunteer at a woman's shelter and help people in need, maybe at a soup kitchen? Or, or, or... they could be actually working at a paying job to earn money to help pregnant teens that don't want an abortion to pay for their medical bills. They could help old people run errands, they could help old people across the street, they could clean up our parks, they could pick up recycling.
They could do something other than slow down traffic in rush hour.
Let's all think "greater good."
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Strategy, Cleverness, And Adaptability
Yesterday after my third trip back and forth from my new house with carloads of stuff, I was in my current house. It was raining and kind of yucky outside and I glanced out the window in to my almost ex backyard. I saw the most beautiful fox. Not an Chester County mangy fox either. A big, red, fluffy, gorgeous fox. He or she sauntered on the outside of the fence in my back yard and then took off up through my neighbors yard. It made me really happy.
I think you see these kinds of different animals when your energy is somewhat in sync. Or when you need to learn something from that animal. Like a reminder of sorts.
Many cultures have different view on fox sightings. In China they believe that foxes symbolize afterlife and the sighting of one is a sign from the deceased. I believe that more than I care to elaborate on. One Native American interpretation is that the fox is a wise and noble messenger.
It is said that the color red in the fox is a solar emblem. That represents passion, desire, intensity, and expression. Yes, yes, yes, oh and yes.
Here's my favorite part about the reminders that foxes are meant to give: think outside of the box, use your surrounding to your advantage and be very mindful of it, use all your resources, the resources that are physically apparent and especially the ones that aren't. Remember that at times it takes an usual way to reach your goal. You just have to be creative about it.
I can totally relate to all of that. I'm glad I saw that fox and I'm glad that this information was brought to the forefront of my mind in the particular period of time and circumstance that I am in.
"The fox is a wolf that sends flowers."- Ruth Brown
Yup. Yup. Yup.
I think you see these kinds of different animals when your energy is somewhat in sync. Or when you need to learn something from that animal. Like a reminder of sorts.
Many cultures have different view on fox sightings. In China they believe that foxes symbolize afterlife and the sighting of one is a sign from the deceased. I believe that more than I care to elaborate on. One Native American interpretation is that the fox is a wise and noble messenger.
It is said that the color red in the fox is a solar emblem. That represents passion, desire, intensity, and expression. Yes, yes, yes, oh and yes.
Here's my favorite part about the reminders that foxes are meant to give: think outside of the box, use your surrounding to your advantage and be very mindful of it, use all your resources, the resources that are physically apparent and especially the ones that aren't. Remember that at times it takes an usual way to reach your goal. You just have to be creative about it.
I can totally relate to all of that. I'm glad I saw that fox and I'm glad that this information was brought to the forefront of my mind in the particular period of time and circumstance that I am in.
"The fox is a wolf that sends flowers."- Ruth Brown
Yup. Yup. Yup.
Monday, April 26, 2010
Death, Divorce, And Moving
I've covered all these things in the past year. Some more than once. That's the truth. I have my own divorce (which is seemingly pleasant), my best friends divorce (which is the stuff horror movies are made of), two significant deaths, and now the move. Oh yeah, also, I'm starting a business with every cent of what would have been my life's savings. I am expecting fire works after this whole thing is over.
I'm also going with the super human effort of trying to move absolutely everything I physically can move myself. I'm getting made fun of that by some people (you know who you are) BUT, but, but, my mover's can't come until Friday. The week after is my time to get ready for our studio opening. I need this done now.
My Mommy is helping me. And some of my friends. But mostly it's just me. Me packing up a lifetime's worth of stuff. Me hauling it back and forth. Me, bound and determined to have my new place (which I love) all ready so it is not heaped on me all in one day. I want to be moved in Friday and be actually moved in. I don't know which part of my psyche is making me do it this way. I guess it's the obsessive part. The part that made me have a supply house full of art supplies in the first place.
It makes me think back to when I moved in this house. I was nine months pregnant with another baby 14 months old. Marc had just started a brand new job. I moved us myself that time too. I am feeling this odd sense of deja vu. Kind of.
I kind of cried to a friend last night about it. Just quickly in an e mail. My favorite thing was his advice. It was simple advice but it made me smile because he is a big athlete who refuses to do yoga. And he told me to breathe. That's a yoga term! We made up breathing. It all comes back to yoga.
YoGA. Riggghhhttt... (hi Lisy :) )
I'm also going with the super human effort of trying to move absolutely everything I physically can move myself. I'm getting made fun of that by some people (you know who you are) BUT, but, but, my mover's can't come until Friday. The week after is my time to get ready for our studio opening. I need this done now.
My Mommy is helping me. And some of my friends. But mostly it's just me. Me packing up a lifetime's worth of stuff. Me hauling it back and forth. Me, bound and determined to have my new place (which I love) all ready so it is not heaped on me all in one day. I want to be moved in Friday and be actually moved in. I don't know which part of my psyche is making me do it this way. I guess it's the obsessive part. The part that made me have a supply house full of art supplies in the first place.
It makes me think back to when I moved in this house. I was nine months pregnant with another baby 14 months old. Marc had just started a brand new job. I moved us myself that time too. I am feeling this odd sense of deja vu. Kind of.
I kind of cried to a friend last night about it. Just quickly in an e mail. My favorite thing was his advice. It was simple advice but it made me smile because he is a big athlete who refuses to do yoga. And he told me to breathe. That's a yoga term! We made up breathing. It all comes back to yoga.
YoGA. Riggghhhttt... (hi Lisy :) )
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
What With the Funnel Cake... ( another ramblin' post)
Today I had lunch with two incredibly funny women and a special appearance by my Mommy. It was special cause it was an Asian restaurant and she doesn't do Asian food. She was there because she had been right next door taking pictures of our PLAYroom. Which is so cool...
So as usual we got on the subject of yoga and the benefits of it. This past weekend I was in Colorado climbing a mountain (cause that's what I do). I repelled up and down the whole thing twice, I mean three times. Fine! we just hiked up and once we were there we played yoga at the way top. Cause that's what I really do.
While I was there I asked my Colorado friend (who shall not be named, just like Voldemort) what the obesity situation was in Colorado. I was thinkin', judging from that hike, it had to be better than Philadelphia. Our version of the FlatIrons (named for not anvil looking type things) is the steps of the Philadelphia Art Museum. One time, long long ago in a movie called Rocky, Sylvester Stallone climbed them and since then, judging by the obesity rate in Philly (here's a fun fact friends: Colorado is the only state that hasn't had a 20% increase in obesity over the past 10 years, Pennsylvania... not so much) , it seems to be the exercise of choice. One time, up the steps and you're all good. Fat but damn good!
So as we are discussing this very disturbing issue my Mommy tells us that there are recent studies that say that our military will be weakened by state of obesity in our country. Children are becoming so over weight that will not be able to serve.
I chimed in on the fact that overall Pennsylvania is one of the "over weight" states.
Our very funny friend Marnie said, (please put on a Jewish accent when you say this) "No surprise there! What with the funnel cake."
Don't even get me started on the funnel cake. And the fried oreos and the huge bowls of fries with the cheese covering it. I'm sorry (you know I'm not) that's just gross.
Children are important.
Here's my Top Ten Rules on Kids...
1. Love them
2. Teach by example
3. Set a good example
4. If you're their parent try and remember you are shaping their perception of life
5. Love them
6. Be their advocate cause probably no one else will
7. Love them
8. Teach them the art of kindness and compassion
9. Listen to everything they say.
10. Love them.
P.S. Lay off the funnel cakes. Food is not love. Exercise is love for yourself. Self love is important. Just ask Jerry, George, and Elaine.
So as usual we got on the subject of yoga and the benefits of it. This past weekend I was in Colorado climbing a mountain (cause that's what I do). I repelled up and down the whole thing twice, I mean three times. Fine! we just hiked up and once we were there we played yoga at the way top. Cause that's what I really do.
While I was there I asked my Colorado friend (who shall not be named, just like Voldemort) what the obesity situation was in Colorado. I was thinkin', judging from that hike, it had to be better than Philadelphia. Our version of the FlatIrons (named for not anvil looking type things) is the steps of the Philadelphia Art Museum. One time, long long ago in a movie called Rocky, Sylvester Stallone climbed them and since then, judging by the obesity rate in Philly (here's a fun fact friends: Colorado is the only state that hasn't had a 20% increase in obesity over the past 10 years, Pennsylvania... not so much) , it seems to be the exercise of choice. One time, up the steps and you're all good. Fat but damn good!
So as we are discussing this very disturbing issue my Mommy tells us that there are recent studies that say that our military will be weakened by state of obesity in our country. Children are becoming so over weight that will not be able to serve.
I chimed in on the fact that overall Pennsylvania is one of the "over weight" states.
Our very funny friend Marnie said, (please put on a Jewish accent when you say this) "No surprise there! What with the funnel cake."
Don't even get me started on the funnel cake. And the fried oreos and the huge bowls of fries with the cheese covering it. I'm sorry (you know I'm not) that's just gross.
Children are important.
Here's my Top Ten Rules on Kids...
1. Love them
2. Teach by example
3. Set a good example
4. If you're their parent try and remember you are shaping their perception of life
5. Love them
6. Be their advocate cause probably no one else will
7. Love them
8. Teach them the art of kindness and compassion
9. Listen to everything they say.
10. Love them.
P.S. Lay off the funnel cakes. Food is not love. Exercise is love for yourself. Self love is important. Just ask Jerry, George, and Elaine.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Laughative
"What's a regular Joe?" Chase asked me this morning as he was getting ready to walk out the door to the bus. He had heard someone say it on the news that was on the tv in the kitchen.
"A regular Joe? It's just a normal guy. Just a person like anyone else," I answered.
"I don't think anyone is a regular Joe," he said.
Oh how that makes me smile.
"You don't? I know what you mean. No one is really 'normal', right?" I said.
"Especially not the people we know," he said.
This made me laugh.
"What? Are our people a bunch of kooks? (you know who you are)" I said.
"Yes. Especially your and Saige's friends," he continued, "You guys attract the crazies."
"What? Who? I want names. Name names," I demanded.
Then he rambled off a list as long as his arm.
"Oh. Fine. You got me..." I laughed.
"Well, it's not so much crazy as laughative," he said, backtracking now.
"Laughative?"
"Yes, you guys laugh all the time. Every time Sue or someone comes over all you guys do is laugh. That's why I like hanging out with you," he said.
He shoots! He scores!
I love my baby boy.
"A regular Joe? It's just a normal guy. Just a person like anyone else," I answered.
"I don't think anyone is a regular Joe," he said.
Oh how that makes me smile.
"You don't? I know what you mean. No one is really 'normal', right?" I said.
"Especially not the people we know," he said.
This made me laugh.
"What? Are our people a bunch of kooks? (you know who you are)" I said.
"Yes. Especially your and Saige's friends," he continued, "You guys attract the crazies."
"What? Who? I want names. Name names," I demanded.
Then he rambled off a list as long as his arm.
"Oh. Fine. You got me..." I laughed.
"Well, it's not so much crazy as laughative," he said, backtracking now.
"Laughative?"
"Yes, you guys laugh all the time. Every time Sue or someone comes over all you guys do is laugh. That's why I like hanging out with you," he said.
He shoots! He scores!
I love my baby boy.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Stalking My Own Daughter
I totally stalk my own kid. I stalk her on Facebook. I don't think that's weird. It's the year 2010. Did you know that? Well it is and kids are busy on Facebook. They do all the Facebook "apps." That's probably the wrong word but I'm just the mother, what do I care? They all have a "Lover of the Day." I'm not even kidding. My eleven year old child (I mean twelve year old) has a "Lover of the Day." What in the hell is that? A fantasy love interest? I thought you had to wait until you were married to get a hold of one of those. Apparently these days all you have to do is touch a button and there they are! I've seen other of my daughters friends that are my "facebook friends," with the same thing. Your lover could be a boy or a girl or maybe a fan page. I'm not positive about that one but one time I saw someone's "Lover of the Day," was a dog face. Cause that's not weird.
Besides "Lover of the Day," they all have long lists of "children" and who their "parents" are. I'll tell you what, I'm not listed on her Facebook page as parent. And I know for a fact that I am. That's more than I can say for my ex husband. I'm totally kidding! I'm pretty sure. I'm just kidding Mommy. I'm just entertaining myself now with this rambling bit of nonsense.
Like my old blog, I am going to bind this up and give my children a little taste of who I was to read about when I'm dead and gone. I like to think in my head that they are going to fight over it.
"No I want Mommy's blog!"
Then the other one will say, "But she mentioned me more! She loved me more! She told me all the time that I was her favorite."
And then Thing One will say, "YOU LIAR (All caps Dr. D. style) Mom loved me best! I was her favorite! She told me all the time."
Then at some point they will come to realize that I told them both that every day. Then they'll rip the blog book in half and it will gather dust from then until the end of time. With any luck, Mickey's great great great grandson will refrain from peeing on it.
I forget why I started this but I'm sure it was really important and I'm sorry (Sima and Sue) that I can't remember now.
Besides "Lover of the Day," they all have long lists of "children" and who their "parents" are. I'll tell you what, I'm not listed on her Facebook page as parent. And I know for a fact that I am. That's more than I can say for my ex husband. I'm totally kidding! I'm pretty sure. I'm just kidding Mommy. I'm just entertaining myself now with this rambling bit of nonsense.
Like my old blog, I am going to bind this up and give my children a little taste of who I was to read about when I'm dead and gone. I like to think in my head that they are going to fight over it.
"No I want Mommy's blog!"
Then the other one will say, "But she mentioned me more! She loved me more! She told me all the time that I was her favorite."
And then Thing One will say, "YOU LIAR (All caps Dr. D. style) Mom loved me best! I was her favorite! She told me all the time."
Then at some point they will come to realize that I told them both that every day. Then they'll rip the blog book in half and it will gather dust from then until the end of time. With any luck, Mickey's great great great grandson will refrain from peeing on it.
I forget why I started this but I'm sure it was really important and I'm sorry (Sima and Sue) that I can't remember now.
Friday, April 9, 2010
I Will Miss That Tree
I have spent over eleven years living in my house. I know that because we moved in exactly two weeks before my son was born. He will be eleven on Monday.
Time flies.
I'm getting a divorce. My husband is moving in here with his girlfriend. I really don't care.
I liked my house for the time that I lived in here. I love my neighbor across the street. I love how close we were to the major highway that takes me other places. For a while I loved my new pool. I'm so ready to go now though. It's done. It's over. It's time to leave. I am so fine with it that it's almost weird.
The good thing is that because I am fine with it my children are fine with it too. I found a way to make them excited about divorce. That's not easy, friends. It takes a little work, a lotta smiles, and the fact that you are going to live right across the way from four professional soccer players to get them all revved up.
So much has happened in the past year. Good things. Sad things. Bad things. It's all just life though, right? One big circle. Life and death. In between you gotta be happy. You have to figure out a way to make everything okay, even when it's not. You sure do if you're an adult and you have children. Children need you to smile. They need you to watch out for them. They need to watch you and make sure you're okay so they can be okay too. You need to do your very best job to not fuck them up even when everything else has seemingly gone crazy. I think that is a mother's job and I take it very seriously.
My daughter asked me if I will miss our house. I could look her in the eye and say with complete honesty, "No." I will miss one thing about our house though. This is the truth. I will miss lying in my bed in the Spring time, looking out the window and seeing the pink Dogwood tree bloom. It's a beautiful tree. It makes me happy when I know it's going to start blooming. Chase and Saige love it too. We talk about that tree when it's at it's best. It's so pink and fluffy that the petals look like cotton balls. It has grown so tall over the years that it blocks the whole second story window. It fills it with Spring. I'm glad this is the last thing I will remember missing when I move. It will remind me that trees bloom every year. It doesn't matter what happens to you in between. Just like the tides come in. The earth revolves and children grow older. (I'm getting older too) Life goes on.
I'm so excited.
Time flies.
I'm getting a divorce. My husband is moving in here with his girlfriend. I really don't care.
I liked my house for the time that I lived in here. I love my neighbor across the street. I love how close we were to the major highway that takes me other places. For a while I loved my new pool. I'm so ready to go now though. It's done. It's over. It's time to leave. I am so fine with it that it's almost weird.
The good thing is that because I am fine with it my children are fine with it too. I found a way to make them excited about divorce. That's not easy, friends. It takes a little work, a lotta smiles, and the fact that you are going to live right across the way from four professional soccer players to get them all revved up.
So much has happened in the past year. Good things. Sad things. Bad things. It's all just life though, right? One big circle. Life and death. In between you gotta be happy. You have to figure out a way to make everything okay, even when it's not. You sure do if you're an adult and you have children. Children need you to smile. They need you to watch out for them. They need to watch you and make sure you're okay so they can be okay too. You need to do your very best job to not fuck them up even when everything else has seemingly gone crazy. I think that is a mother's job and I take it very seriously.
My daughter asked me if I will miss our house. I could look her in the eye and say with complete honesty, "No." I will miss one thing about our house though. This is the truth. I will miss lying in my bed in the Spring time, looking out the window and seeing the pink Dogwood tree bloom. It's a beautiful tree. It makes me happy when I know it's going to start blooming. Chase and Saige love it too. We talk about that tree when it's at it's best. It's so pink and fluffy that the petals look like cotton balls. It has grown so tall over the years that it blocks the whole second story window. It fills it with Spring. I'm glad this is the last thing I will remember missing when I move. It will remind me that trees bloom every year. It doesn't matter what happens to you in between. Just like the tides come in. The earth revolves and children grow older. (I'm getting older too) Life goes on.
I'm so excited.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Just Another Easter
We had a very traditional Easter this year. Well, kind of. On Saturday night Chase had a sleepover friend here. After I fell asleep they played the kitchen game and made each other drink raw eggs until apparently Chase threw up. So although technically, if we were using exact words that is, we didn't dye eggs. I think because there was still a non traditional use of them that must count for something.
Then on actual Easter Sunday, I made Chase and his buddy (cause Saige had stayed over Haleigh's house) pancakes. I chopped up little tiny Hershey's bars and put them in there for them. I believe they ate those and some starburst flavored jelly beans for breakfast.
Then my children went with my husband and his girlfriend to his parents house for the afternoon. All very normal.
Clearly with all these other activities we had missed our E portion of our traditional C&E religious happenings. As an alternative, Saige and Chase and I made the group decision to watch the new Twilight. We feel we made a good decision. It gave us the chance to talk about why Bella would choose a vampire over a werewolf which lead into the "you can't help who you love," discussion. Saige was clearly on "Team Edward," while Chase thought that was ridiculous and couldn't figure out why she wouldn't like Jason the very muscular werewolf. It is a toss up, isn't it? Jason's got that whole 8 pack abs, no shirt thing going for him, while Edward is pasty and you can barely hear what he's saying. The thing is, I think he's really the "bad boy." You can't be a teenage girl and not want the bad boy. It's like a rite of passage.
The teenage years are going to be scary. I think next year I'm really going to push the whole dying eggs thing again.
Then on actual Easter Sunday, I made Chase and his buddy (cause Saige had stayed over Haleigh's house) pancakes. I chopped up little tiny Hershey's bars and put them in there for them. I believe they ate those and some starburst flavored jelly beans for breakfast.
Then my children went with my husband and his girlfriend to his parents house for the afternoon. All very normal.
Clearly with all these other activities we had missed our E portion of our traditional C&E religious happenings. As an alternative, Saige and Chase and I made the group decision to watch the new Twilight. We feel we made a good decision. It gave us the chance to talk about why Bella would choose a vampire over a werewolf which lead into the "you can't help who you love," discussion. Saige was clearly on "Team Edward," while Chase thought that was ridiculous and couldn't figure out why she wouldn't like Jason the very muscular werewolf. It is a toss up, isn't it? Jason's got that whole 8 pack abs, no shirt thing going for him, while Edward is pasty and you can barely hear what he's saying. The thing is, I think he's really the "bad boy." You can't be a teenage girl and not want the bad boy. It's like a rite of passage.
The teenage years are going to be scary. I think next year I'm really going to push the whole dying eggs thing again.
Saturday, April 3, 2010
I Love Dogs
I really do. Sometimes my own drive me crazy cause they're messy and can be annoying and boss me around, but I love them so much.
I have had at least two dogs at a time since I was 24 years old. That's a long time in dog years when you consider I am 40 now. And in that time, always, at least one of them, and most of the time more were big huge german shepherd dogs. I love a German Shepherd. I also love Huskies and Golden Retrievers and Beagles and Jack Russells and Bulldogs, oh and Pugs. I love Pugs. And of course whatever kind of dog animal creature that Mickey is. I love him best of all right now. I'm not sure what he really is, but he's cute as a button. I really love all dogs. Except Poodles. I don't quite get the whole Poodle thing. I do like when they are mixed with other dogs so they're not straight Poodle. Like a dash of olive juice. If a Poodle has a little dash of that I can deal with them.
My last big huge German Shepherd dog, Lucy, died about a month ago. It makes me so sad. I am getting ready to move into a town house and I can't get another big huge German Shepherd dog right now. Although it wasn't always easy with her, she was a big furry shedder, and rambunctious, she got in the trash, she had seizures, she also bit a couple people (which is never fun) although that was years ago and I don't think should count anymore.
Even with all that, I loved her so much. I could take her running early in the morning or at night and not worry anything would happen to me (cause she's a biter, remember?). If I was sad I could wrap my arms around her and bury my head in her furry back and she would patiently wait for me to be done, every time I said her name her tail would wag, she understood full sentences of what I was saying to her, and in all the time I owned her I never locked a door to my house. It just wasn't necessary. Honestly to this day, I don't own a front door key. It's a good thing I'm moving.
Years ago I promised myself that when my current dogs/creatures "go," I will never get another one. It's to hard. Seeing them get sick and worrying about them, is so hard. I had one dog, years ago, named Buddy, that I still cry about when I talk about him. That pain doesn't ever seem to go away.
It's just I love them all. Maybe it's the energy that surrounds them. It's so pure. I have a big thing about energy and chemical reactions to people. Does that extend to dogs? I know my friend Lisa's dog "talks" to me. He really does. He doesn't do it to anyone else. He sees me. Right Lisa?
I have started spending a lot of time with my dog creature, Mickey, in the dog park. I love going there. Mickey tolerates it. He doesn't really care either way. It's me that wants to go and see all the dogs. I love to watch them play. I love to see the relationships with their owners, I love to see how they react to one another. I think it's fun. It almost fills that need I have to get another dog.
Almost...
Just kidding Mom. I promise. Kind of.
I have had at least two dogs at a time since I was 24 years old. That's a long time in dog years when you consider I am 40 now. And in that time, always, at least one of them, and most of the time more were big huge german shepherd dogs. I love a German Shepherd. I also love Huskies and Golden Retrievers and Beagles and Jack Russells and Bulldogs, oh and Pugs. I love Pugs. And of course whatever kind of dog animal creature that Mickey is. I love him best of all right now. I'm not sure what he really is, but he's cute as a button. I really love all dogs. Except Poodles. I don't quite get the whole Poodle thing. I do like when they are mixed with other dogs so they're not straight Poodle. Like a dash of olive juice. If a Poodle has a little dash of that I can deal with them.
My last big huge German Shepherd dog, Lucy, died about a month ago. It makes me so sad. I am getting ready to move into a town house and I can't get another big huge German Shepherd dog right now. Although it wasn't always easy with her, she was a big furry shedder, and rambunctious, she got in the trash, she had seizures, she also bit a couple people (which is never fun) although that was years ago and I don't think should count anymore.
Even with all that, I loved her so much. I could take her running early in the morning or at night and not worry anything would happen to me (cause she's a biter, remember?). If I was sad I could wrap my arms around her and bury my head in her furry back and she would patiently wait for me to be done, every time I said her name her tail would wag, she understood full sentences of what I was saying to her, and in all the time I owned her I never locked a door to my house. It just wasn't necessary. Honestly to this day, I don't own a front door key. It's a good thing I'm moving.
Years ago I promised myself that when my current dogs/creatures "go," I will never get another one. It's to hard. Seeing them get sick and worrying about them, is so hard. I had one dog, years ago, named Buddy, that I still cry about when I talk about him. That pain doesn't ever seem to go away.
It's just I love them all. Maybe it's the energy that surrounds them. It's so pure. I have a big thing about energy and chemical reactions to people. Does that extend to dogs? I know my friend Lisa's dog "talks" to me. He really does. He doesn't do it to anyone else. He sees me. Right Lisa?
I have started spending a lot of time with my dog creature, Mickey, in the dog park. I love going there. Mickey tolerates it. He doesn't really care either way. It's me that wants to go and see all the dogs. I love to watch them play. I love to see the relationships with their owners, I love to see how they react to one another. I think it's fun. It almost fills that need I have to get another dog.
Almost...
Just kidding Mom. I promise. Kind of.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
The Long of the Short of It
Chase has been growing his hair out for a year. I hated it. I am all about children expressing themselves. Really, I am. He has pierced ears, he wears those big colorful Nike shoes and skater clothes. That's fine if he could just look neat. His hair is thick and poker straight and the "long do" on him make him look like a little Amish punk.
I have begged him to get it cut. I have promised him he could have a day off from school, a trip to New York City, and I'm pretty sure once Marc offered him five hundred dollars to please look like a child with parents who care.
But no. No cutting of the hair. I really think that his hair became something to hide behind for the past year or so. My husband and I are going through a divorce. And the thing is, no matter how friendly your divorce is, it is still very stressful for everyone involved. I think his hair was a little barrier, a shield if you will, between him and the world. As long as he kept it growing we could concentrate on that and not what was really going on.
We are at the point now that my husband and I are best friends again. My kids see this. It makes all the difference in the world. They see we are happy and they are happy. Of course, like all children, they probably wish their parents were still living together but all they really want is for us to be happy. We are. So in turn, so are they.
Over the weekend while I was away, Chase got a buzz cut. Marc txtd me the pictures of him. He looks so good. I came home from California on Sunday night and walked in my house to my freshly hair cutted son and almost started to cry. For the first time in over a year I could see his very handsome face so clearly. I missed that face. He is so good looking.
Now his girlfriend wants to kiss him over Spring break. Seriously. And he thinks he might do it. I'm going to start looking into vacation plans to get him the hell out of here. Or call that girls mother and tell on her. Or, or, or, ground him for something. God knows he probably deserves it. What else can I do to control his life? I want full control. That won't ruin him at all.
I don't want him to kiss her. I want him to be my baby and watch Desperate Housewives with me, and play cards, and read books, and stop thinking about kissing his dumb girlfriend.
My Mom would tell me to put a brick on his head to stop him from growing.
I need a couple.
I have begged him to get it cut. I have promised him he could have a day off from school, a trip to New York City, and I'm pretty sure once Marc offered him five hundred dollars to please look like a child with parents who care.
But no. No cutting of the hair. I really think that his hair became something to hide behind for the past year or so. My husband and I are going through a divorce. And the thing is, no matter how friendly your divorce is, it is still very stressful for everyone involved. I think his hair was a little barrier, a shield if you will, between him and the world. As long as he kept it growing we could concentrate on that and not what was really going on.
We are at the point now that my husband and I are best friends again. My kids see this. It makes all the difference in the world. They see we are happy and they are happy. Of course, like all children, they probably wish their parents were still living together but all they really want is for us to be happy. We are. So in turn, so are they.
Over the weekend while I was away, Chase got a buzz cut. Marc txtd me the pictures of him. He looks so good. I came home from California on Sunday night and walked in my house to my freshly hair cutted son and almost started to cry. For the first time in over a year I could see his very handsome face so clearly. I missed that face. He is so good looking.
Now his girlfriend wants to kiss him over Spring break. Seriously. And he thinks he might do it. I'm going to start looking into vacation plans to get him the hell out of here. Or call that girls mother and tell on her. Or, or, or, ground him for something. God knows he probably deserves it. What else can I do to control his life? I want full control. That won't ruin him at all.
I don't want him to kiss her. I want him to be my baby and watch Desperate Housewives with me, and play cards, and read books, and stop thinking about kissing his dumb girlfriend.
My Mom would tell me to put a brick on his head to stop him from growing.
I need a couple.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Reasoning or Punching In the Face? Tough Call
My little boy is almost eleven years old. I guess that makes him not quite so little anymore. I don't care though, he's still my baby. He is all boy though. To such a degree that if I wasn't so confident in his ability to share his thoughts and feelings with me, but especially with Marc, I would really worry. Thank God he's got Marc as a dad. I have friends who won't tell their husbands certain things their children do or say in fear that the dad will get mad. Chase and his friends tell Marc a lot. Sometimes more than he probably wants to know.
I was away this weekend so I was hearing the play by play of the goings on's back in Pennsylvania, via txt from three different sources. So I had already heard the edited down version of, "the hat incident," before I got home and Chase told me first hand.
"So what went on this weekend?" I asked him with a little squint to my eyes so he would know what I meant.
"Do you know already?" he asked.
"I do, but I want to hear you tell me exactly what happened," I said.
"We were at the ice skating rink and some 8th graders (Chase and his friends in 5th) stole Jake's hat," he said.
"Yes, continue," I said.
"Well, they wouldn't give it back and we were racing around the rink trying to get it. The big kid pushed Jake down. He got back up and raced after him. He hip checked the older kid. That kid grabbed Jake and pushed him up against the side with his forearm up by his neck (this was demonstrated to me, Chase didn't say forearm). So I went like this... " Chase showed me how he punched the kid in the face.
Oh dear...
God.
Boys.
"What happened then?" I asked
"We just skated off with Jake's hat," he said.
Now see, as the mom of the fifth grader it seems a slippery slope as to how to feel about that. I don't like hitting. I don't think it solves anything. But I'm not a fifth grade boy defending his friend against an 8th grader. I actually love the fact that he stood up for his friend. That part makes me so happy that I can overlook how it went down. I don't know how far reasoning would go at the ice skating rink with a bunch of nasty 8th graders. I know Mike Brady would have wanted to reason with him. Mike also understood when reasoning didn't work anymore. And everyone knows that Mike Brady was a very thoughful man.
Marc was proud of him. I try to leave the boy stuff to him. That's his department. I'll be the one to wrap my little tough boy up in my arms and kiss his freshly cut hair and tell him he's sweet little turtle. He seems happy with both.
I think the moral of the story is that Chase is a good friend. I'm just going to leave it at that.
I was away this weekend so I was hearing the play by play of the goings on's back in Pennsylvania, via txt from three different sources. So I had already heard the edited down version of, "the hat incident," before I got home and Chase told me first hand.
"So what went on this weekend?" I asked him with a little squint to my eyes so he would know what I meant.
"Do you know already?" he asked.
"I do, but I want to hear you tell me exactly what happened," I said.
"We were at the ice skating rink and some 8th graders (Chase and his friends in 5th) stole Jake's hat," he said.
"Yes, continue," I said.
"Well, they wouldn't give it back and we were racing around the rink trying to get it. The big kid pushed Jake down. He got back up and raced after him. He hip checked the older kid. That kid grabbed Jake and pushed him up against the side with his forearm up by his neck (this was demonstrated to me, Chase didn't say forearm). So I went like this... " Chase showed me how he punched the kid in the face.
Oh dear...
God.
Boys.
"What happened then?" I asked
"We just skated off with Jake's hat," he said.
Now see, as the mom of the fifth grader it seems a slippery slope as to how to feel about that. I don't like hitting. I don't think it solves anything. But I'm not a fifth grade boy defending his friend against an 8th grader. I actually love the fact that he stood up for his friend. That part makes me so happy that I can overlook how it went down. I don't know how far reasoning would go at the ice skating rink with a bunch of nasty 8th graders. I know Mike Brady would have wanted to reason with him. Mike also understood when reasoning didn't work anymore. And everyone knows that Mike Brady was a very thoughful man.
Marc was proud of him. I try to leave the boy stuff to him. That's his department. I'll be the one to wrap my little tough boy up in my arms and kiss his freshly cut hair and tell him he's sweet little turtle. He seems happy with both.
I think the moral of the story is that Chase is a good friend. I'm just going to leave it at that.
Friday, March 12, 2010
Breakfast Foods...
My kids generally don't like to eat breakfast on weekdays. They really don't. This is bothersome because breakfast is the one meal that I'm really good at cooking. I can make all the fan favorites, pancakes, french toast, eggs, pop eyed eggs, you name it, well, not really, but I do make breakfast well.
Of course every morning it's pretty much the same conversation...
"What do you want for breakfast, Honey?" I say in my most mother like voice.
"Can I just have a shake?" Thing One or Thing Two says.
By shake, they mean Slimfast shake. That's not weird at all.
So yesterday this is pretty much how it went. Just Saige was here and that was what she said she wanted. Then she was still a little hungry. Today was my grocery store day and pickin's were slim.
"Do you want a banana?" I asked as I eyed up the very black bananas hoping she hadn't noticed them before I could peel it.
"No! They look gross," she said.
"They're fine. They just look bad. I'll show you," I peeled off the skin and found a very smooshy banana. I broke it in half and handed it to her.
"What are you trying to poison me?" she said incredulously.
Silence.
"Can I have a granola bar?" she said.
"We're out of them. You know that. Why are you tormenting me about granola bars?" I asked.
"Well what can I have then?" she said.
"Do you want eggs? I can make you eggs," I said, as I crossed my fingers because this was really the only thing I had to offer up.
"No. I don't want eggs," she said.
Great.
I opened the fridge.
"How 'bout a pickle?" I asked.
"Can I just have some applesauce?" she tried.
"We're out of that too. How 'bout some ice cream?" I was kind of kidding about that but she was starting to make me nervous.
"No, I know, a Hot Pocket!" I said.
"Do we have the breakfast ones?" she asked.
"Kind of. Let's just pretend," I answered looking at the pizza kind.
She rolled her eyes at me.
I went shopping later that day.
Mother of the Year! Right?
Of course every morning it's pretty much the same conversation...
"What do you want for breakfast, Honey?" I say in my most mother like voice.
"Can I just have a shake?" Thing One or Thing Two says.
By shake, they mean Slimfast shake. That's not weird at all.
So yesterday this is pretty much how it went. Just Saige was here and that was what she said she wanted. Then she was still a little hungry. Today was my grocery store day and pickin's were slim.
"Do you want a banana?" I asked as I eyed up the very black bananas hoping she hadn't noticed them before I could peel it.
"No! They look gross," she said.
"They're fine. They just look bad. I'll show you," I peeled off the skin and found a very smooshy banana. I broke it in half and handed it to her.
"What are you trying to poison me?" she said incredulously.
Silence.
"Can I have a granola bar?" she said.
"We're out of them. You know that. Why are you tormenting me about granola bars?" I asked.
"Well what can I have then?" she said.
"Do you want eggs? I can make you eggs," I said, as I crossed my fingers because this was really the only thing I had to offer up.
"No. I don't want eggs," she said.
Great.
I opened the fridge.
"How 'bout a pickle?" I asked.
"Can I just have some applesauce?" she tried.
"We're out of that too. How 'bout some ice cream?" I was kind of kidding about that but she was starting to make me nervous.
"No, I know, a Hot Pocket!" I said.
"Do we have the breakfast ones?" she asked.
"Kind of. Let's just pretend," I answered looking at the pizza kind.
She rolled her eyes at me.
I went shopping later that day.
Mother of the Year! Right?
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Thursday, March 4, 2010
My Little Angel
I take Chase to my trainer. My trainer. The trainer I don't use right now but let my precious son go in my place. The issue is that Chase has this thing about his shoe size. He likes to tell me it's a size 8. Yeah, and I'm 29 and 6 ft tall. I will say that I believe Marc indulges this fantasy shoe size at times in order to avoid Chase's disgruntlement. It's fine. If he wants to walk around in clown shoes, have at it. I just can't bring him to my gym, to my trainer with shoes three sizes to big. Besides it being unsafe to work out like that, it borders on ridiculous and makes me look like a slacker Mother. I like to keep that under wraps.
Yesterday we went to the mall to get him running shoes before his training session. Of course in typical Chase fashion he chose the $150 mens running shoes. I told him when he started running with me everyday I would buy him those in a second, at this time, while I am still begging him to get the hell off the couch after school we are going to have to go with the hundred dollar pair. Mean Mommy.
The shoe guy comes over and measures his feet. Tension is building. Shoe guy has no idea.
"Oh, he's a kids size 5. Those shoes won't work," said shoe guy who coincidentally has the name as my son. Well kinda, in his case Chase is short for Charles he told me, but I guess that's really neither here nor there.
Chase is angry at me because his feet are a size 5. Clearly that is my fault.
"I'll just wear the shoes I have on," he mutters.
"Yeah, no. Dave told me not to bring you in those, Honey, sweet precious angel that I love so much. You have to wear running shoes."
"Let's see what we have in the kids section," says Chase/Charles.
Steam comes out of my Chase's ears.
I've had enough at this point.
We buy a pair of shoes that he hates but that actually fit him. I'm feeling nervous.
When we get to the car he gets in the back seat. This is a power play to let me know how angry he is. I ignore it and txt Marc, "Chase hates that I made him get shoes his size." Marc tells me he will talk to him about it later. I come to find out that at the exact same time as my txt was going through that Chase was txting Marc telling him that I was going to ruin his feet because I was making him wear Ben's (Lisa's youngest son) shoes to work out in.
Little liar.
Precious angel. I love him so much. Kids are fun.
Yesterday we went to the mall to get him running shoes before his training session. Of course in typical Chase fashion he chose the $150 mens running shoes. I told him when he started running with me everyday I would buy him those in a second, at this time, while I am still begging him to get the hell off the couch after school we are going to have to go with the hundred dollar pair. Mean Mommy.
The shoe guy comes over and measures his feet. Tension is building. Shoe guy has no idea.
"Oh, he's a kids size 5. Those shoes won't work," said shoe guy who coincidentally has the name as my son. Well kinda, in his case Chase is short for Charles he told me, but I guess that's really neither here nor there.
Chase is angry at me because his feet are a size 5. Clearly that is my fault.
"I'll just wear the shoes I have on," he mutters.
"Yeah, no. Dave told me not to bring you in those, Honey, sweet precious angel that I love so much. You have to wear running shoes."
"Let's see what we have in the kids section," says Chase/Charles.
Steam comes out of my Chase's ears.
I've had enough at this point.
We buy a pair of shoes that he hates but that actually fit him. I'm feeling nervous.
When we get to the car he gets in the back seat. This is a power play to let me know how angry he is. I ignore it and txt Marc, "Chase hates that I made him get shoes his size." Marc tells me he will talk to him about it later. I come to find out that at the exact same time as my txt was going through that Chase was txting Marc telling him that I was going to ruin his feet because I was making him wear Ben's (Lisa's youngest son) shoes to work out in.
Little liar.
Precious angel. I love him so much. Kids are fun.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Highly Unusual
I am a huge Apple (the computer not the fruit, I'm allergic to them) pusher. I don't understand why everyone doesn't chose a Mac. I love my computer like it's a friend. Sometimes I think it's the only one who really understands me. That's not weird. And I'm worried about children connecting with the outside world? Maybe I should take a lesson from myself. YOU learn something from my brother!
Where was I? Oh yeah, if you buy a Mac you can pay a hundred bucks to the Apple store and get 52 weeks of lessons all about your computer. The Apple store guys have helped Lisa and I set up our whole business. They optimized our web site. They helped with all the aspects of starting to build it. They helped us link our calenders. They taught us Pages and those spread sheet things that Lisa does and all sorts of little tricks. I really don't know what we would have done with out them.
The thing is it supposed to be a ONE to ONE. That would imply one trainer, one customer. Lisa and I come as a pair. We're a little side show for anyone that works with us. Our contractor loves us, our flooring guy likes to talk to us, our printer actually calls us "Overbearing" and "Distracted," in a fond and PLAYful manner, even the township guy loved chatting with us, well, until he didn't give us our way about our sign and Lisa referred to him as "Your Lordship" in an email. Which made me laugh so hard at that Saige walked in my room and asked if I was okay. So far the only one that hasn't taken to us like peanut butter to jelly is our real estate lawyer. I don't like lawyers anymore. I have developed a prejudice against them all now and will hold that grudge for at LEAST 24 hours. After that I'll probably get distracted and forget about it.
Where was I again? Oh yes, so Lisa and I go into our ONE to ONE together. We circle around our question until Lisa finally says to the trainer, "It's like a game. We are going to give you clues as to what we want and you try to guess." It was at that point he said, "Normally people come in alone. This is highly unusual." Which only cracked us up. Of course it is. It's us. So we patted his sweet little Computer geek head and said, "Don't worry, next week we'll get two trainers at the same time, but we're still requesting you."
He was psyched. At least that's what we tell ourselves.
Where was I? Oh yeah, if you buy a Mac you can pay a hundred bucks to the Apple store and get 52 weeks of lessons all about your computer. The Apple store guys have helped Lisa and I set up our whole business. They optimized our web site. They helped with all the aspects of starting to build it. They helped us link our calenders. They taught us Pages and those spread sheet things that Lisa does and all sorts of little tricks. I really don't know what we would have done with out them.
The thing is it supposed to be a ONE to ONE. That would imply one trainer, one customer. Lisa and I come as a pair. We're a little side show for anyone that works with us. Our contractor loves us, our flooring guy likes to talk to us, our printer actually calls us "Overbearing" and "Distracted," in a fond and PLAYful manner, even the township guy loved chatting with us, well, until he didn't give us our way about our sign and Lisa referred to him as "Your Lordship" in an email. Which made me laugh so hard at that Saige walked in my room and asked if I was okay. So far the only one that hasn't taken to us like peanut butter to jelly is our real estate lawyer. I don't like lawyers anymore. I have developed a prejudice against them all now and will hold that grudge for at LEAST 24 hours. After that I'll probably get distracted and forget about it.
Where was I again? Oh yes, so Lisa and I go into our ONE to ONE together. We circle around our question until Lisa finally says to the trainer, "It's like a game. We are going to give you clues as to what we want and you try to guess." It was at that point he said, "Normally people come in alone. This is highly unusual." Which only cracked us up. Of course it is. It's us. So we patted his sweet little Computer geek head and said, "Don't worry, next week we'll get two trainers at the same time, but we're still requesting you."
He was psyched. At least that's what we tell ourselves.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Distracted And Overbearing
Lisa and I continue on our mission of opening up the most innovative Art/Yoga studio there is. We have lots (millions) of plans in the works. All my life one of my most favorite things to say has been, "I've got the best idea," and to see who I could rope into my plan, whether it be trying to get tickets to see Shaggy on New Years Eve in Jamaica or jumping out of an airplane or picking up our entire lives and moving across the country. Sometimes my plans worked, sometimes they didn't. In Lisa I have found the perfect partner. She loves the follow through of one of my plans. All I really have to do is think it sometimes and she's right there with her pen (don't give her a pencil, she'll yell at you) and paper, takin' notes and makin' calls. She doesn't take no for an answer and she will push through until it has gone her way. It's the most fun.
Most of our business is geared towards children. We want to give them a place to go and be creative and stretch their minds and their bodies. We want them to be able to express themselves and feel good about that. We found this line of toys out of San Francisco called Kimochi's. They are really cute stuffed animals all built around feelings with one of the concepts being how to get children to recognize, acknowledge and understand their feelings better. When we first found them Lisa was so happy I think she started clapping. She can't wait to build a whole yoga class around them for... "the cheeellldren."
There are about five different characters right now and they all have different "personalities." There is "Cloud," he is unpredictable, angry on day, happy the next. There is a bumblebee, "Bug," who is thoughtful but cautious. There is "Lovey Dove" ( a dove) who is caring and helpful but worried a lot and "Cat," who is most persuasive and can be bossy and then there is "Huggtopus," a octopus who is all smiles and happy but can be overbearing at times.
Lisa has deemed herself, "Huggtopus," when she is not wearing her skull cap and making you refer to her as her sanskrit name Sarat Shakti (or something like that) I think she wants to be called Huggtopus.
"I'm overbearing!" she says to me.
"Why yes you are," I agree.
"No, like the Kimochi, Huggtopus, that's me, overbearing. Have you seen the way it bounces around all the time?" she asked me a couple days ago.
"Not yet," I answered as this was before I had seen the website.
"Well check it out. I am totally Huggtopus." she said so proudly it made me smile.
"Who am I?" I asked.
"I don't think there is an ADD character yet," she said.
"Well maybe they could make one."
"Yes, then we could be Distracted and Overbearing," she laughed.
"I want t shirts made."
Most of our business is geared towards children. We want to give them a place to go and be creative and stretch their minds and their bodies. We want them to be able to express themselves and feel good about that. We found this line of toys out of San Francisco called Kimochi's. They are really cute stuffed animals all built around feelings with one of the concepts being how to get children to recognize, acknowledge and understand their feelings better. When we first found them Lisa was so happy I think she started clapping. She can't wait to build a whole yoga class around them for... "the cheeellldren."
There are about five different characters right now and they all have different "personalities." There is "Cloud," he is unpredictable, angry on day, happy the next. There is a bumblebee, "Bug," who is thoughtful but cautious. There is "Lovey Dove" ( a dove) who is caring and helpful but worried a lot and "Cat," who is most persuasive and can be bossy and then there is "Huggtopus," a octopus who is all smiles and happy but can be overbearing at times.
Lisa has deemed herself, "Huggtopus," when she is not wearing her skull cap and making you refer to her as her sanskrit name Sarat Shakti (or something like that) I think she wants to be called Huggtopus.
"I'm overbearing!" she says to me.
"Why yes you are," I agree.
"No, like the Kimochi, Huggtopus, that's me, overbearing. Have you seen the way it bounces around all the time?" she asked me a couple days ago.
"Not yet," I answered as this was before I had seen the website.
"Well check it out. I am totally Huggtopus." she said so proudly it made me smile.
"Who am I?" I asked.
"I don't think there is an ADD character yet," she said.
"Well maybe they could make one."
"Yes, then we could be Distracted and Overbearing," she laughed.
"I want t shirts made."
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Be Sick On A Friday!
There is something that absolutely drives me crazy. It's called the "Monday Blues." I think the Monday Blues come from having way to much fun over the weekend. Ice skating, movies, sleepovers, trips to the mall, out for ice cream, staying up to late, etc... Then Monday rolls around and I hear, "I don't feel good." Now wait, you might be asking why I would let them do all that over the weekend? A ha! I didn't! They bullied poor, overly nice, Marc into doing it. Word to the wise, when you are going through a divorce, no matter how amicable, there is still guilt involved. There is still the need to make everyone happy. It's not right. It's all part of the process. At any rate, Sunday night rolls around and he gladly drops off two "sick" children to me.
Saige might have been a tiny bit sick. Chase, huge faker.
Chase isn't even the best faker either, he's all, "Ooooh my throat," then I see him eating potato chips. Or "Aaaaah my head hurts," then he's playing on his computer.
At least Saige can produce a cough and a dry heave here and there. You know, something for the fans. Something to make it believable.
I always tell my kids, "Listen, be sick on Friday all you want. You can stay in all weekend and we'll cuddle and play cards and I'll make you chicken soup. When you're sick on a Monday, I have a small percentage of patience. And I usually spend what I have trying to figure out if you've scammed me or not."
Saige would be furious if she read this. She really doesn't fake. Chase on the other hand would just probably shake his little head with his much to long hair and smile as he petted my hand and said, "I love you Mommy. You're so pretty."
Eddie Haskell.
Now I am going to wake their asses up and send 'em out the door. Buh bye.
Saige might have been a tiny bit sick. Chase, huge faker.
Chase isn't even the best faker either, he's all, "Ooooh my throat," then I see him eating potato chips. Or "Aaaaah my head hurts," then he's playing on his computer.
At least Saige can produce a cough and a dry heave here and there. You know, something for the fans. Something to make it believable.
I always tell my kids, "Listen, be sick on Friday all you want. You can stay in all weekend and we'll cuddle and play cards and I'll make you chicken soup. When you're sick on a Monday, I have a small percentage of patience. And I usually spend what I have trying to figure out if you've scammed me or not."
Saige would be furious if she read this. She really doesn't fake. Chase on the other hand would just probably shake his little head with his much to long hair and smile as he petted my hand and said, "I love you Mommy. You're so pretty."
Eddie Haskell.
Now I am going to wake their asses up and send 'em out the door. Buh bye.
Monday, February 15, 2010
Creeping Up On the Teens
My two children are 15 months apart. They seem to growing a very rapid rate though. It seems like just yesterday they were babies. Today it's a whole other story.
Yesterday Chase and I went to Target so he could get Valentines cards for his class and a special box of chocolate for his girlfriend. Yes, his girlfriend. One night Saige showed me that his little girlfriend had made her "status" on AIM (I don't even know what this means) "Chase is my life A+C <<<<<<<33333.
So that's nice. Not.
And then we have Saige. Saige is twelve. I guess moodiness comes with the territory but some weeks are worse than others. Most times I just try to keep my head down low and implement the "NO EYECONTACT" rule that I learned years ago from a friends mother that let us go to NYC alone for the day. That rule might just have kept us alive. I find it works well with preteens too. The only problem is sometimes these girls won't let up on you no matter how hard you try to camouflage yourselves into your surroundings.
For instance, last week Saige called me on the phone, "Mom, I left my sneakers in my locker. I need them for dance or I will get in trouble. Can you call Nancy and see if Emily has a pair I can borrow?"
"You can call Nancy," I say.
"I don't want to. I want you to," she whines at me.
"Yeah well, the thing is, I didn't leave my sneakers in the locker. You did. Therefore, you call."
This goes back and forth for quite a while. She just won't let up on me. Now she has it in her head that I should call because I am the Mom. I'm feeling like she should figure it out. After she had been on me for about an hour I say, "Listen to me, you have four choices, you can call Nancy, you can wear my sneakers, you can go to dance and get in trouble or don't go to dance at all. No matter what you choose I am not calling Nancy."
So she called.
She rang across the street in a huff, she came home in a bigger huff because she didn't like the sneakers they had loaned her. She stomped up the stairs muttering to herself some nonsense. In as cheery voice as I could muster out I said, "Okay honey, I'm getting in the car, it's time to go." Stomp, slam, stomp, stomp was all I heard.
I got in the car and waited and suddenly she appeared all smiles. "Look!" she said, "I didn't leave my sneakers at school, they were in my room after all."
Kids are fun. Little angels. Love 'em so much.
Yesterday Chase and I went to Target so he could get Valentines cards for his class and a special box of chocolate for his girlfriend. Yes, his girlfriend. One night Saige showed me that his little girlfriend had made her "status" on AIM (I don't even know what this means) "Chase is my life A+C <<<<<<<33333.
So that's nice. Not.
And then we have Saige. Saige is twelve. I guess moodiness comes with the territory but some weeks are worse than others. Most times I just try to keep my head down low and implement the "NO EYECONTACT" rule that I learned years ago from a friends mother that let us go to NYC alone for the day. That rule might just have kept us alive. I find it works well with preteens too. The only problem is sometimes these girls won't let up on you no matter how hard you try to camouflage yourselves into your surroundings.
For instance, last week Saige called me on the phone, "Mom, I left my sneakers in my locker. I need them for dance or I will get in trouble. Can you call Nancy and see if Emily has a pair I can borrow?"
"You can call Nancy," I say.
"I don't want to. I want you to," she whines at me.
"Yeah well, the thing is, I didn't leave my sneakers in the locker. You did. Therefore, you call."
This goes back and forth for quite a while. She just won't let up on me. Now she has it in her head that I should call because I am the Mom. I'm feeling like she should figure it out. After she had been on me for about an hour I say, "Listen to me, you have four choices, you can call Nancy, you can wear my sneakers, you can go to dance and get in trouble or don't go to dance at all. No matter what you choose I am not calling Nancy."
So she called.
She rang across the street in a huff, she came home in a bigger huff because she didn't like the sneakers they had loaned her. She stomped up the stairs muttering to herself some nonsense. In as cheery voice as I could muster out I said, "Okay honey, I'm getting in the car, it's time to go." Stomp, slam, stomp, stomp was all I heard.
I got in the car and waited and suddenly she appeared all smiles. "Look!" she said, "I didn't leave my sneakers at school, they were in my room after all."
Kids are fun. Little angels. Love 'em so much.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Happy New Tiger's Day
As much as I love to make fun of the tiger buddha that Lisa had to have I am now second guessing all my teasing. Well, not so much second guessing it as kind of feeling that perhaps it was meant to be.
You see, Lisa is in a vortex. That's right. A vortex. She is smack at the center of one. Twirling and spreading energy. Somewhat like a whirling Dervish if you will. At least that's what she tells me. And I believe everything she says unless she tells me I look skinny, then I know she's lying. So it's not surprising to me that today is the start of the Chinese New Year. This is the year of the tiger. The very first purchase for our studio was a chinese woman in a tiger suit. Coincidence? I don't think so. But that's just me. I don't believe in coincidence.
According to my moon chart today is also a new moon. I am obsessed with the moon. I love the whole concept of a new moon because it means this is when the moon lies between the earth and the sun. Because of this we see the moon in conjunction with the sun, therefore, we see the unilluminated side of the moon. Other wise known as the dark side of the moon. The side that you can't see. I love this concept with the moon or people. There's a side that don't see, but don't worry, the light comes around again. Just like our tiger buddha. We are pretty sure she comes alive at night and dances around Lisa's kitchen but we have never actually seen it happen.
And to round it out to the lucky number three, it is also Valentines Day. This is nice cause it's a day about love. Peace. LOVE. Art. Yoga. Do you get it?
You see, Lisa is in a vortex. That's right. A vortex. She is smack at the center of one. Twirling and spreading energy. Somewhat like a whirling Dervish if you will. At least that's what she tells me. And I believe everything she says unless she tells me I look skinny, then I know she's lying. So it's not surprising to me that today is the start of the Chinese New Year. This is the year of the tiger. The very first purchase for our studio was a chinese woman in a tiger suit. Coincidence? I don't think so. But that's just me. I don't believe in coincidence.
According to my moon chart today is also a new moon. I am obsessed with the moon. I love the whole concept of a new moon because it means this is when the moon lies between the earth and the sun. Because of this we see the moon in conjunction with the sun, therefore, we see the unilluminated side of the moon. Other wise known as the dark side of the moon. The side that you can't see. I love this concept with the moon or people. There's a side that don't see, but don't worry, the light comes around again. Just like our tiger buddha. We are pretty sure she comes alive at night and dances around Lisa's kitchen but we have never actually seen it happen.
And to round it out to the lucky number three, it is also Valentines Day. This is nice cause it's a day about love. Peace. LOVE. Art. Yoga. Do you get it?
Thursday, February 11, 2010
My Lover
Lisa and I were back in NYC for the gift show a couple weeks ago. The International Gift Show is one of those things that everyone wishes they could go to. We had some requests to go with us but we had to say no because it actually is a lot of work. It's a ton of vendors and a ton of choices and a ton of thinking and walking around. It is fun but it is also very draining.
After the first day we were there we headed over to my brother's apartment. He generously lets us stay there whenever we come to town. Besides partnering with Lisa another thing I would highly suggest is to get yourself with a brother that lives in New York City. It was one of my favorite parts of my life. He didn't even get mad when we got pink eye all over his apartment. Anyway, we all know that Mark is gay. Keep that in mind for later in the story.
So Lisa and I hang out with him for a while. We try to get him to come out to dinner with us but he is sick and needs to get some work done so Lisa and I bundle ourselves up and head up a couple blocks to the very yummy restaurant Barbounia.
We sit at the tall tables by the bar even though our favorite bartender is working. We need to review stuff and plan for the next day and we are tired. Usually we fancy ourselves good entertainment for him but tonight we just want to eat and go home. After we were done eating Fernando the bartender comes over to talk to us. Just so you know, Fernando looks very similar to Johnny Depp except he is about 6'3 and very thin and wears these thick black rimmed Raybans.
"We're going to leave soon Fernando, we're tired," I say.
"Oh don't leave yet. My lover is coming in, I want to introduce you," he replies
Now before I can even open my mouth Lisa exclaims, "Oh, HE is?"
Wait, did she just call him gay? Not that there's anything wrong with that. It's just, he isn't.
Fernando just smiles. "It's a she not a he, but don't worry about it, it's no big deal," he says.
At this point a little chuckle would have been sufficient but this is Lisa we are talking about. A little chuckle is not in her repertoire. She wants to explain herself now. I just lean back and start to enjoy the show.
"Well, oh my goodness. Of course it's not a man. I knew that. It's just, it's just, well see we were just at Amy's brothers apartment and he's gay and we were talking about gay men and boyfriends. Of course I know you're not gay it's just I've got gay on the brain," she sputters out.
Gay on the brain?
Huh.
Good one Lisy.
That explains it.
Do you get it?
After the first day we were there we headed over to my brother's apartment. He generously lets us stay there whenever we come to town. Besides partnering with Lisa another thing I would highly suggest is to get yourself with a brother that lives in New York City. It was one of my favorite parts of my life. He didn't even get mad when we got pink eye all over his apartment. Anyway, we all know that Mark is gay. Keep that in mind for later in the story.
So Lisa and I hang out with him for a while. We try to get him to come out to dinner with us but he is sick and needs to get some work done so Lisa and I bundle ourselves up and head up a couple blocks to the very yummy restaurant Barbounia.
We sit at the tall tables by the bar even though our favorite bartender is working. We need to review stuff and plan for the next day and we are tired. Usually we fancy ourselves good entertainment for him but tonight we just want to eat and go home. After we were done eating Fernando the bartender comes over to talk to us. Just so you know, Fernando looks very similar to Johnny Depp except he is about 6'3 and very thin and wears these thick black rimmed Raybans.
"We're going to leave soon Fernando, we're tired," I say.
"Oh don't leave yet. My lover is coming in, I want to introduce you," he replies
Now before I can even open my mouth Lisa exclaims, "Oh, HE is?"
Wait, did she just call him gay? Not that there's anything wrong with that. It's just, he isn't.
Fernando just smiles. "It's a she not a he, but don't worry about it, it's no big deal," he says.
At this point a little chuckle would have been sufficient but this is Lisa we are talking about. A little chuckle is not in her repertoire. She wants to explain herself now. I just lean back and start to enjoy the show.
"Well, oh my goodness. Of course it's not a man. I knew that. It's just, it's just, well see we were just at Amy's brothers apartment and he's gay and we were talking about gay men and boyfriends. Of course I know you're not gay it's just I've got gay on the brain," she sputters out.
Gay on the brain?
Huh.
Good one Lisy.
That explains it.
Do you get it?
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Crouching Tiger, Hidden Buddha
When you are starting a business there are many things that are imperative to get. For instance, a building to have this business in. Maybe some insurance. Perhaps inventory would be needed. You might want to consider furniture for you establishment.
Those are just my thoughts.
A few weeks ago Lisa and I went to one of my favorite stores called Material Culture to look for some old doors to put in an opening in our studio to close off the yoga room from the retail space. I would consider doors a "needed" item. We looked and found two different sets. Lisa had her heart set on a pair that were stacked behind about a MILLION other pairs. We were going to need ten strong men and some oxen to get them out. I could already tell though that they were going to be to expensive. I said, "They are three thousand dollars. We are not getting them." She said, "You don't know that! I want to see them." I just petted her sweet little head and sighed, "Okay...." So we got the oxen and the men and they moved everything else for us to see. Lo and behold they were the bargain price of $2900! Knowing that ahead of time is one of my special gifts. That and total consciousness when I die. We found other pairs too. More in our price range. She grudgingly agreed to the less expensive doors.
Then she spotted some very cute little stools. They were adorable but they were also three hundred dollars a piece, she wanted four and we haven't started buying furniture yet. I had to physically drag her away from them. It wasn't easy.
Then. Then came the "Tiger Buddha."
"Look! Look!" she exclaimed.
"What?"
"We need this! Look how cute it is! It's a little tiger Buddha," she was gushing.
I looked.
Oh jesus. Really?
Then one of the men who works there came over.
"How much is this tiger buddha?" she practically screamed at him. "We need this! We are opening a CHILDREN'S yoga studio. PLAY. Peace, love, art, yoga. Do you get it? Wouldn't this look so cute for the CHILDREN???"
"It's four hundred dollars," he said, "But I can give it to you for two sixty."
"Amy, please. Look at it! It's so cute. We need this," she said.
"It's scary," I said.
"No! You wouldn't let me get anything else. I'm getting this. Dave wants me to have this today. He wants me to have the tiger buddha," she was set on it.
I need to pick my battles. I had already saved us $4200 that day, so fine, get the freaky little thing if you must.
She was so happy. She practically skipped up to the counter with her odd little chinese woman with boobs in the tiger costume. She did accidentally bang it's head on the door on the way out but I guess that's really neither here nor there.
I sent this picture to my friend to show him what we HAD to have for our studio. His reply was, "Oh my goodness! Yes, every new business needs one of those!" Uh... yeah.
Those are just my thoughts.
A few weeks ago Lisa and I went to one of my favorite stores called Material Culture to look for some old doors to put in an opening in our studio to close off the yoga room from the retail space. I would consider doors a "needed" item. We looked and found two different sets. Lisa had her heart set on a pair that were stacked behind about a MILLION other pairs. We were going to need ten strong men and some oxen to get them out. I could already tell though that they were going to be to expensive. I said, "They are three thousand dollars. We are not getting them." She said, "You don't know that! I want to see them." I just petted her sweet little head and sighed, "Okay...." So we got the oxen and the men and they moved everything else for us to see. Lo and behold they were the bargain price of $2900! Knowing that ahead of time is one of my special gifts. That and total consciousness when I die. We found other pairs too. More in our price range. She grudgingly agreed to the less expensive doors.
Then she spotted some very cute little stools. They were adorable but they were also three hundred dollars a piece, she wanted four and we haven't started buying furniture yet. I had to physically drag her away from them. It wasn't easy.
Then. Then came the "Tiger Buddha."
"Look! Look!" she exclaimed.
"What?"
"We need this! Look how cute it is! It's a little tiger Buddha," she was gushing.
I looked.
Oh jesus. Really?
Then one of the men who works there came over.
"How much is this tiger buddha?" she practically screamed at him. "We need this! We are opening a CHILDREN'S yoga studio. PLAY. Peace, love, art, yoga. Do you get it? Wouldn't this look so cute for the CHILDREN???"
"It's four hundred dollars," he said, "But I can give it to you for two sixty."
"Amy, please. Look at it! It's so cute. We need this," she said.
"It's scary," I said.
"No! You wouldn't let me get anything else. I'm getting this. Dave wants me to have this today. He wants me to have the tiger buddha," she was set on it.
I need to pick my battles. I had already saved us $4200 that day, so fine, get the freaky little thing if you must.
She was so happy. She practically skipped up to the counter with her odd little chinese woman with boobs in the tiger costume. She did accidentally bang it's head on the door on the way out but I guess that's really neither here nor there.
I sent this picture to my friend to show him what we HAD to have for our studio. His reply was, "Oh my goodness! Yes, every new business needs one of those!" Uh... yeah.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Do You Get It?
"PLAY. Peace, love, art, yoga. PLAY. Do you get it? Peace, love, art, yoga. PLAY. Do you get it?"
I have heard that so many times and it delights me every single one of them. It is Lisa telling people the name of the business we are starting. She likes to repeat herself. She likes to make sure people understand. She also likes them to smile and shake their head yes. So be forewarned, if she approaches you, and chances are she will. You better react properly. Don't say I never told you.
This business is why I haven't been writing on here lately. I'm to tired. She is a slave driver. I love every second of it though. I would highly recommend starting a business with her, if I hadn't gotten her first that is. Oh well. Next lifetime.
It is going to be a studio for children and adults, mostly children, where they can take art and yoga classes. It is going to be a beautiful place where they can use their imaginations for a while and be creative with their minds and bodies. We think this is a problem these days. There is to much time spent txting on cell phones and IM'ing and facebooking. There is to much time spent playing video games, watching tv, and surfing the net. There is a lack of face to face communication that is going to hinder their ability to properly connect in the adult working world and in relationships.
So, here we come.
PLAY, peace, love, art, yoga, do you get it?
I have heard that so many times and it delights me every single one of them. It is Lisa telling people the name of the business we are starting. She likes to repeat herself. She likes to make sure people understand. She also likes them to smile and shake their head yes. So be forewarned, if she approaches you, and chances are she will. You better react properly. Don't say I never told you.
This business is why I haven't been writing on here lately. I'm to tired. She is a slave driver. I love every second of it though. I would highly recommend starting a business with her, if I hadn't gotten her first that is. Oh well. Next lifetime.
It is going to be a studio for children and adults, mostly children, where they can take art and yoga classes. It is going to be a beautiful place where they can use their imaginations for a while and be creative with their minds and bodies. We think this is a problem these days. There is to much time spent txting on cell phones and IM'ing and facebooking. There is to much time spent playing video games, watching tv, and surfing the net. There is a lack of face to face communication that is going to hinder their ability to properly connect in the adult working world and in relationships.
So, here we come.
PLAY, peace, love, art, yoga, do you get it?
Friday, January 15, 2010
Pas de Chien
Driving in the car with a whole bunch of kids.
"I want to take ballet."
Did Saige say that?
No, she didn't. She said, "There is no WAY you are taking ballet."
"Oh yes I am," Chase says.
"You want to take ballet, Buddy?" I ask, somewhat confused.
"I do. I want to take ballet and hip hop. Ethan and I want to do it together," he says.
Hmmmm...
"Well..." I stumble stupidly.
"You only want to do that cause the class is filled with all girls," Saige says angrily.
"Yup. Danny takes dance and he is having the best birthday party ever. Boys and girls!" says my little horndog.
"Well Chase honey," I say, "That dance school is really expensive. You can't go there just to get chicks."
"If we take ballet all the other classes are free because they want more boys there," he informs me.
"Well then, have at it," I say.
"I don't want them in my hip hop class!" Saige says.
How do I diffuse this situation?
"Do you really want to do it Chay? I'm not trying to be rude, this is just fact, you're not exactly the ballet type," I say.
"Yeah," says Saige, "Are you going to wear tights? People will tease you."
"We don't care," he says quite confidently. "The girls won't tease us while we are picking them up and twirling them around."
Lord have mercy.
Seriously, right?
A half a brain between them, Chase and Ethan.
I wonder where that comes from.
They'll probably end up ruling the world.
"I want to take ballet."
Did Saige say that?
No, she didn't. She said, "There is no WAY you are taking ballet."
"Oh yes I am," Chase says.
"You want to take ballet, Buddy?" I ask, somewhat confused.
"I do. I want to take ballet and hip hop. Ethan and I want to do it together," he says.
Hmmmm...
"Well..." I stumble stupidly.
"You only want to do that cause the class is filled with all girls," Saige says angrily.
"Yup. Danny takes dance and he is having the best birthday party ever. Boys and girls!" says my little horndog.
"Well Chase honey," I say, "That dance school is really expensive. You can't go there just to get chicks."
"If we take ballet all the other classes are free because they want more boys there," he informs me.
"Well then, have at it," I say.
"I don't want them in my hip hop class!" Saige says.
How do I diffuse this situation?
"Do you really want to do it Chay? I'm not trying to be rude, this is just fact, you're not exactly the ballet type," I say.
"Yeah," says Saige, "Are you going to wear tights? People will tease you."
"We don't care," he says quite confidently. "The girls won't tease us while we are picking them up and twirling them around."
Lord have mercy.
Seriously, right?
A half a brain between them, Chase and Ethan.
I wonder where that comes from.
They'll probably end up ruling the world.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Two Kooks, Some New Friends, And An Angel
Lisy and I went to NYC yesterday for work. Although it's hard to call it work when it's all so much fun. So I think from now on I will say, "We went for PLAY." Cause that is really what we did.
Normally I drive to NY. I'm kind of a bitch about it too. People will say, "Let's take the train," and I narrow my eyes and shake my head and say, "No."
Yesterday we had to leave quite early. I agreed to the train. It seemed like such a good idea. We got up before the crack of dawn and hopped on there with two nice hot cups of coffee from the cute little train station shop. We sat in those four seats where we faced each other and Lisa read to me. Then this man sat down next to me named Carlton and we chatted him up the entire time. He was an investment banker. He must of thought we were two nutcases. Sometimes we tend to give that impression but I believe he really enjoyed his time with us! He learned all sorts of new things! He didn't see that coming at all.
So we do our work PLAY and met more fun people. There was Dream the jewelry designer who we sat and talked to for quite a while and some awesome girls from Orange County that want us to take our show on the road and Kelly, the ex actress who was so engrossed reading the third book in the Twilight series at Barbounia until she just couldn't help herself from talking to us. And Fernando. I just love saying the name Fernando. Fernando is a slack line trickster. It was like plucking the golden ticket meeting him. He's going to come PLAY slack line with us soon. (Twisty, he can jump and do tricks!)
Then it was time to go. Back to Penn Station. It was around six o'clock. Lisa wanted a cocktail. I sat and ate a pretzel while I listened to her talk to more strangers and txted my friend. Then we thought our train was coming. We were wrong. It was canceled due to mechanical errors. I'll tell you what. When I'm at the airport and the plane won't leave because of that reason I get nervous. I could have cared less about that train though. I just wanted them to tape up whatever wheel fell off and get me home.
From here it was another side show. Lisa "took control" and got us two more tickets issued to the same train that wasn't going anywhere. Next we missed the train we could have taken but never figured that out. We asked a not very nice train station worker and she informed us we would just have to wait. That was all we got from her. We were tired and confused. We were standing in the middle of Penn Station looking clueless when all of the sudden this girl appeared. "Are you going to Philadelphia?" she asked us. "Yes," I said. "Follow me," she told us. We did. We just followed right along. Across the train station down to a track on the way other side. Down the stairs and hopped on a train. Never even occurred to us to double check or ask someone else. On the way down I said, "What's your name?" She told us, "Evelyn," then she just disappeared.
I can't wait to do it again.
Normally I drive to NY. I'm kind of a bitch about it too. People will say, "Let's take the train," and I narrow my eyes and shake my head and say, "No."
Yesterday we had to leave quite early. I agreed to the train. It seemed like such a good idea. We got up before the crack of dawn and hopped on there with two nice hot cups of coffee from the cute little train station shop. We sat in those four seats where we faced each other and Lisa read to me. Then this man sat down next to me named Carlton and we chatted him up the entire time. He was an investment banker. He must of thought we were two nutcases. Sometimes we tend to give that impression but I believe he really enjoyed his time with us! He learned all sorts of new things! He didn't see that coming at all.
So we do our work PLAY and met more fun people. There was Dream the jewelry designer who we sat and talked to for quite a while and some awesome girls from Orange County that want us to take our show on the road and Kelly, the ex actress who was so engrossed reading the third book in the Twilight series at Barbounia until she just couldn't help herself from talking to us. And Fernando. I just love saying the name Fernando. Fernando is a slack line trickster. It was like plucking the golden ticket meeting him. He's going to come PLAY slack line with us soon. (Twisty, he can jump and do tricks!)
Then it was time to go. Back to Penn Station. It was around six o'clock. Lisa wanted a cocktail. I sat and ate a pretzel while I listened to her talk to more strangers and txted my friend. Then we thought our train was coming. We were wrong. It was canceled due to mechanical errors. I'll tell you what. When I'm at the airport and the plane won't leave because of that reason I get nervous. I could have cared less about that train though. I just wanted them to tape up whatever wheel fell off and get me home.
From here it was another side show. Lisa "took control" and got us two more tickets issued to the same train that wasn't going anywhere. Next we missed the train we could have taken but never figured that out. We asked a not very nice train station worker and she informed us we would just have to wait. That was all we got from her. We were tired and confused. We were standing in the middle of Penn Station looking clueless when all of the sudden this girl appeared. "Are you going to Philadelphia?" she asked us. "Yes," I said. "Follow me," she told us. We did. We just followed right along. Across the train station down to a track on the way other side. Down the stairs and hopped on a train. Never even occurred to us to double check or ask someone else. On the way down I said, "What's your name?" She told us, "Evelyn," then she just disappeared.
I can't wait to do it again.
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Tulu, Texting, Technology, My Tour, And Some Tofu
Today's letter is T.
I love technology. I love it so much. I love my IPod, I love dvring tv shows, I love my laptop, I love my new Blackberry Tour and I love being able to be walking around Trader Joes in Devon, Pennsylvania and e mailing back and forth with my best friend who lives in Istanbul, Turkey.
Speaking of who, was in the foreign edition of InStyle and her store Tulu and her apartment were featured. To see this totally cool pix...just look HERE.
I remember years ago when cell phones first came out. Well, even before that the Charlie's Angel's girls had a "car phone," and it totally was a phone in a car with a curly cord and all. Anything those angels did was cool too. Except for Bree. I don't know why they always dressed her in the dorky clothes and made her be the school marm type. Why is it called school marm Twisty? You should know. You used to teach at a school before you decided to go all rogue.
Anyway, after that, those phones in bags came out. It was like a briefcase. You thought that all the guys that carried them were probably drug dealers. Come to think of it...
Then the big flipper phones were here. I had one of those. I don't remember using it that much but I liked it. I like the idea of it. It still hadn't become a part of my everyday life though. That was in about 93, 94? Right? Then slowly but surely phones kept getting more popular to have. Now they are so a part of our everyday life I can't imagine what we would do with out them. I got a new one the other day. I'm almost embarrassed of my great love for it. Almost. It has apps. I had no idea what this meant when my kids would talk about them. I just didn't get it. Now I have the coolest DaVinci screen saver and my little buttons are super fun. This is something I like.
So I think the next thing they will have to fix is the whole txting and driving issue. Did you see Seven Pounds? I only cried for a week after that tear jerker. God. So I think someone smart (like you) should invent a phone that you can talk into but spells out the words like txts. And then the person on the recieving end can read it or listen to it in their choice of voices. Just like the navigation system. I like the English guy cause he says "round about." I also like that Boulder guy's voice. He speaks midwestern.
I think I'm done. Oh, except for that Tofu. I went to Trader Joe's and got tofu and cooked it and then played Texas Hold'em with my kids. That's a whole other story though. I've rambled long enough. It's time to go watch Desperate Housewives with my Ten year old son.
I love technology. I love it so much. I love my IPod, I love dvring tv shows, I love my laptop, I love my new Blackberry Tour and I love being able to be walking around Trader Joes in Devon, Pennsylvania and e mailing back and forth with my best friend who lives in Istanbul, Turkey.
Speaking of who, was in the foreign edition of InStyle and her store Tulu and her apartment were featured. To see this totally cool pix...just look HERE.
I remember years ago when cell phones first came out. Well, even before that the Charlie's Angel's girls had a "car phone," and it totally was a phone in a car with a curly cord and all. Anything those angels did was cool too. Except for Bree. I don't know why they always dressed her in the dorky clothes and made her be the school marm type. Why is it called school marm Twisty? You should know. You used to teach at a school before you decided to go all rogue.
Anyway, after that, those phones in bags came out. It was like a briefcase. You thought that all the guys that carried them were probably drug dealers. Come to think of it...
Then the big flipper phones were here. I had one of those. I don't remember using it that much but I liked it. I like the idea of it. It still hadn't become a part of my everyday life though. That was in about 93, 94? Right? Then slowly but surely phones kept getting more popular to have. Now they are so a part of our everyday life I can't imagine what we would do with out them. I got a new one the other day. I'm almost embarrassed of my great love for it. Almost. It has apps. I had no idea what this meant when my kids would talk about them. I just didn't get it. Now I have the coolest DaVinci screen saver and my little buttons are super fun. This is something I like.
So I think the next thing they will have to fix is the whole txting and driving issue. Did you see Seven Pounds? I only cried for a week after that tear jerker. God. So I think someone smart (like you) should invent a phone that you can talk into but spells out the words like txts. And then the person on the recieving end can read it or listen to it in their choice of voices. Just like the navigation system. I like the English guy cause he says "round about." I also like that Boulder guy's voice. He speaks midwestern.
I think I'm done. Oh, except for that Tofu. I went to Trader Joe's and got tofu and cooked it and then played Texas Hold'em with my kids. That's a whole other story though. I've rambled long enough. It's time to go watch Desperate Housewives with my Ten year old son.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
A Year In Pictures
I take a ton of pictures. They help me remember. I usually don't take them in bad times either. Although the thought of it is kind of funny. Your partner and you are arguing about something and you say, "Hold please. Let me get the Canon. Let's record this moment where you sounded like a total jackass!"
My kids pretend to love each other and the girls try to lie out.
It's still on 60 degrees so they play on the laptop. Just like the good old days.
Bye bye summer
Fall is here. Two Gay Guys, Some Boots and Me
October and November
Brother John
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