My life is a collection of polar opposites, struggling to co-exist.
Take this past Saturday, for instance. I spent a few hours on the roof, putting on shingles. Yeah, I’m a chick that knows how to swing a hammer. And I only hit my thumb twice.
Before you go hiring me to re-roof your house, though, you should know that I got demoted for awhile after Jeremy found a crooked shingle. Luckily, he found it pretty quickly so we could fix it before it screwed up the alignment of all the rows that would come above it. And by “we” I mean “he”.
As punishment I schlepped shingles for a bit, and then finally got my hammer back with a stern warning. Sorry ’bout that crooked shingle, babe. I’ll make it up to you later, *wink wink*. But I do think I did a pretty good job.
“My” section of the roof
Before I had a chance to bash my thumb again, I climbed down from the roof and got ready to go to the Ballet. That’s right, I swung a hammer all day, rinsed off the dirt and sweat, put on some heels and went to see Alice in Wonderland with my mom and daughter. What a day.
A blurry Alice & White Rabbit
We got to see a ‘preview’, where the dancers perform the entire Ballet in their studio in front of an audience, as a warm up for opening night. It was very intimate, and allowed us to see things that we normally can’t see in a large theater.
For instance, dancers are very sweaty. I suppose that’s pretty obvious, being that they dance for two full hours without much of a break, but I never really noticed from the balcony. Also? The male ballet dancers performed in just tights and T-shirts. It left me wondering if they have some sort of jock under there. Because, hello, I’ve worn tights. They’re not exactly supportive, if you know what I mean, even for a girl.
Alison enjoyed the studio Ballet performance beyond my wildest expectations. I couldn’t be happier, seeing as the whole reason I went this route instead of the full-on theater experience is because it’s $5 per person, as opposed to $50.
Just call me Mrs. Penny Pincher, squeezing dollars out of dimes. But, hey, don’t be surprised if I don’t turn around.
Category: Life in general
Categories
The Dirty Spot
Today is Blog Action Day, and the topic is Poverty. I’m always late to the party, because I’m completely clueless most of the time – but I showed up, right? Right? If you’d like to read some amazing posts on poverty, head on over to the site and follow the links!
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I’m not one to obsess about the cleanliness of my car. With two kids and two big dogs, it’s pretty much a lost cause.
Oh, every now and then I’ll get a hair up my butt and go wash, vacuum and Armor All the interior. But there’s a streak of dirt right inside the passenger door that I don’t clean. If, on the off chance I get my car professionally washed, I point to the dirty spot and ask them to leave it alone. I’m the crazy dirt lady, I know – but I hold that title with pride.
One day last winter, I had just dropped Alison off at my mom’s and was making my way home through a downpour. As I came over a set of rail road tracks, I was shocked to see a woman carrying a small child along the side of the road.
We live in a rural area and there aren’t any sidewalks, instead there are ditches. I screeched to a halt and asked the woman if she’d like a ride. She buckled her 3-year-old daughter into Alison’s car seat and jumped into the front, trying to get out of the rain as quickly as possible.
I asked if her car had broken down, and she replied that she didn’t have a car. Every day, she walked her daughter three miles to pre-school, walked home, then walked back and carried her another three miles home. The little girl tried her best to walk, but six miles is a very long way for a three-year-old, especially in the rain.
I drilled her with exasperated questions: Where was the school bus? Why isn’t there a transit bus in our area? Why wasn’t the school doing something about this? All she could say was that she wanted her daughter to get an education, and to have a head start. Whatever it took, she was willing to do it to see that her little girl had every opportunity to succeed in life.
I followed the woman’s directions and pulled up in front of their modest home.
“I’m so sorry, I got mud on your car,” she said as she climbed out of the car. “If you wait here a minute, I’ll go get something to clean it off.” Of course I declined, telling her it would only take me a moment to clean it at home.
“You two just get warm and dry, and maybe I’ll see you again,” I told her. I waved as I drove away, and managed to keep the tears from falling down my face until she was out of sight.
I may complain that it takes $65 to fill up my car these days – but I have a car. I may complain that I wash too many clothes, dishes, and floors – but that means we have clothes to keep us warm, food to eat, and a home to run around in. I may get frustrated that my husband works long hours, but he has a job – a good one, and a business that is thriving despite a sagging economy.
That little streak of dirt represents the sacrifices a poor mother makes for her child to have a better life, to have a future better than her own. So I keep that dirty spot, and it reminds me every day not only of how fortunate we are, but also that we need to have compassion for those who are not.
Categories
Rude or Reasonable?
Alison goes to gymnastics on Monday evenings, and we all love everything about it. Except that (you knew there had to be something, right?) I have to keep Blythe occupied in a very small waiting area for an hour, dangerously close to her bedtime.
There are usually a few other siblings in the waiting area as well, and two in particular usually catch my eye. They are both around 3 years of age, and their moms are very obviously friends. Typically, the moms sit at the dividing wall, facing the gym, and the kids play, behind them. All very well and good, right? I’d be chatting with my friend too, if there was one around.
However. I had to draw the line on Monday and I tried to do it in the absolute best manner possible. What I got in return was out and out hostility.
Here’s the scene:
Blythe and I are playing on the little 4×4 rug that designates the “play area” of the waiting room. I see one of the moms open a huge tub of something for the two girls to share. Oh, crap! It’s popcorn. No matter, I’ll just make sure Blythe stays on this side of the very small waiting area.
The two girls play and eat, play and eat – and if you’ve ever seen little kids eat popcorn, every third or fourth kernel falls to the floor, where it gets ground up by their shoes. Oh well, right? I’ll really keep Blythe over here by me. But I do hope they’ll help the kids pick up that mess, for the gym’s sake.
Oh good! One of the moms told her daughter she needed to clean up the popcorn mess. So she runs past us, into the gym to get some paper towels. And then she runs back, forth, back, forth across the little rug at least ten times. Because: a three year old thinks that getting paper towels wet and then wiping down the bench IS cleaning up. Still, the two women don’t notice.
Sh*t, now the other little girl is in on the action. Back and forth, little shoes covered in popcorn are running across the little rug. I place Blythe on my lap, and hope she won’t squirm too much. Only 15 minutes to go.
Now the girls have noticed I got out goldfish crackers for Blythe, and they stand in front of us. They ask if they can share Blythe’s snack. I only brought a few, so I tell them that next time I’ll bring enough for everybody. They are cool with that, but now they want to sit with us and touch Blythe’s toys. Touch Blythe’s hands and legs and arms and face and head with their popcorn-covered hands, leaving bits of popcorn in their wake.
I start to panic. I get out Blythe’s bottle and tell the girls that Blythe is done playing. We leave the rug to sit on the only available bench, directly behind the two women, with Blythe on my lap. The little girls go tell their mommies that Blythe has only a small amount of snack (so nice of them, really). One mommy turns around to face me and smiles.
I say, “Are you the one who brought the popcorn?” in the nicest, friendliest way possible.
“No,” she replies, pointing to her friend, “would you like some?” again, so nice!
“Thank you so much, but no… my daughter is allergic.”
By this time, the other mom has turned to face me, as well.
“Do you think you could do me a favor?” I ask, in my sweetest, kindest voice, “Would you mind not bringing popcorn on Mondays? She’s allergic and now she can’t play, because there’s popcorn on the floor. I’m really sorry, I know it’s a pain, but it’s so tough to keep her occupied on my lap!”
Eye roll. Scowl. Huff and puff as she slams the lid closed on the popcorn container and barks at her kid to start picking up the popcorn.
“No, no! It’s OK, she’s already on my lap for the rest of today, don’t worry about it! I’m just asking for next time.”
Eye roll. Scowl. Huff and puff as she picks up handfuls of popcorn off the ground. No answer.
Then they have their girls sit next to them at the half wall, the bottoms of their little shoes pointing at me, revealing little bits of popcorn. I sort of smile.
The two women lean toward each other, whispering. Before, I could hear every word of their conversations, because they were talking over the noise of the gym. One of them turns completely toward her friend, her profile toward me.
Good thing I can read lips, huh? She said, “I know, what a bitch.”
So tell me, was I rude or reasonable?
I’ve never liked coffee. I don’t like the smell, or the bitter taste, or the way it sometimes gives me the trots. So whenever I’ve needed a little pick-me-up, I’ve relied on Pepsi or Tea.
Only, these days Pepsi tastes like crap and upsets my stomach. And Tea – well, Tea is fine when you’ve had 8 hours of sleep and need a little boost to get going. But if you’re like me, and haven’t had a decent night of sleep in over 16 months, drinking Tea is like throwing a thimble of water on a roaring fire. It doesn’t do a damn thing but piss off the fire, where fire = me.
Over the past few months I’ve tried experimenting with other energy drinks, but they either make me so jittery that I fit right in with the crank heads at Wal-Mart, or they have so many calories that I can’t eat for the rest of the day.
Enter Starbucks with their non-trot inducing, non-stinky, non-bitter, fairly low-calorie Vanilla Frappuccino, available at every store in the country (and elsewhere in the world, I’m sure).
Oh, Starbucks Vanilla Frappuccino. I cover you in lipstick-laden kisses, if only so that no one else will try to drink you and face my wrath.
Since I’ve “discovered” coffee, I’ve been more productive, more patient, more attentive, more loving and, well, more awake, obviously. In short, coffee makes me happy. I’m sorry if I’ve ever rolled my eyes at you for saying that. Forgive me, for I knew not what I was missing.
The best part, I think, about my new best friend is that I can buy a case or a carton when I shop and then I don’t have to wait until I leave the house to have my pick-me-up. I can drink it right at 4:30 am, when Blythe typically wakes up for the day, or I can drink it at 7:30 am, when my husband earns bonus points by letting me sleep in. Sure, I’m still dead tired by 8 o’clock in the evening. But I don’t have to fight the urge to rip my loved one’s heads off all day.
And that, my friends, is as close to perfection as I can get at the moment.
Categories
A Glimpse
As Kia so lovingly pointed out, I said posting would be light, not non-existent. I do apologize; it’s much harder to be a part-time blogger than I thought. It’s a way of life: either you’re in, or you’re out! At least, that’s the way it is for me – if I’m going to write, I want to read and comment as well! Time with one of my very best friends? Check.
Last Friday, I celebrated my 31st birthday. Jeremy was already out of town, so the girls and I were on our own. We baked some delicious oatmeal chocolate chip cookies (egg and corn free, of course).
Blythe enjoyed her very first cookie, ever. She liked it, but didn’t ask for more.
Quite the celebration, huh? Much, much different than my 21st birthday, one whole decade ago, when Jeremy took me to a bar and I got drunk on tequila shots until 2 am.
The next morning I took the plunge and left the kids for two whole days while I went down to San Bernardino to meet up with Jeremy, Rick and Natasha at the X Arm Premier Event.
(Sorry it’s blurry – those lights made my camera take fuzzy pictures for some reason. Also? Natasha gave me posing lessons! But I forgot to suck in my tummy. You can’t win them all.)
I’m working on my X Arm post, but it’s taking me a little while because there are eleventy-billion links, and apparently Quick Blogcast doesn’t like those, so it keeps freezing up on me. Gah!
After a weekend away with nothing but adult company and an adult agenda, I’m feeling a little nostalgic for my pre-kid days.
Much needed time with husband? Check.
Laughter, food and booze? Check, check and check.
A kick ass time? Check.
Any questions?