Playing Catch Up

Forgive me friends for I have let you down. It was my intent to attempt to blog regularly this summer. You can see how smoothly it’s gone, huh?

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Well, summer just screams “be lazy”….or at least to me. In fact, I rarely know the day of the week unless I check the calendar.

What? You don’t hear that same voice? Hmmm. You need to ask for a conscience refund.

We have had daily trips to the pool





which has made the girls quite brown and mommy quite pink. I was not blessed with “tanning” skin like some others in my family.

Girls have played, argued, fussed, whined, and carried on all while I politely ignored them and read a book. Well, I tried anyhow.

Hey, I’m entitled to some “me” time too, right? Even if it means ignoring my kids?

Big kids have been busy too. Alex has been enjoying his newly found freedom that a license offers…unless he makes mom mad. Then the license goes.

He has spent time hanging with friends, girlfriend, babysitting, and mowing grass.

But he’s still that typical lazy teen. Check out how he ate ice cream the other night.



As usual, there is no picture of him. Maybe one day…..

Katie had grand plans to escape the madness of work (summer camp with 36 kids aged 4-6) and head to Alaska to see her boyfriend play baseball. But as you all know, nothing ever seems to go as planned. A few days before her scheduled departure, Catlan was diagnosed with a broken thumb on his pitching hand which would require surgery. So, he headed home…..




No Alaska trip…maybe one day.

We are now down to two weeks left of summer. I can’t believe it’s passed so quickly. It must be the old age setting in….days didn’t use to fly by so fast.

Right?

C’mon, I don’t hear you. You should be agreeing with me.

We are not old; we just can’t read a calendar. Therefore, days pass much faster than we expect.

That’s my theory and I’m sticking to it.

Me and My Kitchen

Cooking, baking, candlestick making….

I don’t like any of the above. Although I admit that I have never tried candlestick making. So I guess I really can’t judge, can I?

I am no Julia Child. Or Martha Stewart. Or Rachael Ray. Or anyone else who can actually create something in the kitchen.

I love my kitchen. It is beautiful, big, and has a large island perfect for entertaining. But cook in it? Bake something?

You lookin’ at me? (as I turn my head and look around)

Excuse me? Do you have me confused with someone else?

I did not inherit the family gene that states “I love to create dishes in the kitchen.” I inherited the gene that says, “The easier the better.” Except that no one in my family has that gene. Hmm…

But tonight, I did make dinner. We had chicken fettuccine alfredo and spaghetti (for the contingent that does not like alfredo).

See, I can be a good mom. I don’t force food down their throats if they don’t like it. Well, sometimes I do. But tonight was a left over night. They lucked out.

We sat down, said grace, and got ready to eat when I noticed it. It being Anna Grace sniffing her food.

Already a bit afraid of the answer, I asked, “What are you doing?”

“Sniffing to make sure it is not poisonous.”

Good grief.

I know I am not the best cook but…..REALLY??

The Taco that Wasn't

After a fine morning and lovely adult lunch with a friend, I found myself wondering about dinner.

Surely I am not the only one who doesn’t wake up knowing what is for dinner, right?

But I got wrapped up in school work and neglected to think much further than…..food.

Decision made at 4pm…..tacos and rice. Always a hit with the crowd.

However, by the time I made this decision, both big kids were gone….Katie still at work and Alex at the movies/girlfriend's for the evening.

Rats.

You know how much I love taking my girls to the grocery store by myself, right?

Alas, I had no choice. So into the car we went.

As I buckled up Anna Grace, she said, “I know why you are taking us to the store when you usually don’t. It’s because no one is home to watch us.”

Keep on feeding that mommy guilt-o-meter, kid!

Off to Kroger we ventured…or as Abby says, Krogert.

Short list in hand, no problem.

Except for the side trips.

No Anna Grace, we don’t need that. Abby, where are you going? Get over here! Girls, let’s go. Stop pushing the cart. Stay beside me. Where are you going?

And it continued on and on and on.....lovely fun.

My list consisted of toothpaste, shampoo, nacho chips, trash bags, and taco stuff.

I am so smart to use little codes like “taco stuff”. I knew exactly what I meant.

Got the tomatoes, taco seasoning, already had cheese, sour cream, lettuce, and shells.

All set.

Checked out….another kid ordeal or twelve later, we reached the car and I said…..

I forgot the ground beef.

Yay me.

Back into the store we ventured with my double trouble in hand…..and came out with the required items.

Whew.

Got home, unpacked, and could not find the seasoning mixes. No idea where they went. Either still in the cart or still at the checkout….even though it was on my receipt.

Well crud.

Texted Katie at work and asked her to get some seasoning on the way home.

Then Dave called and said he was going to be late and would miss dinner.

Called Katie back and said….

Never mind.

Just get pizza.

We’ll try tacos another night. Too much trouble.

Geesh.

Put Me in Coach....

I’m no stranger to being second string.

I spent my life always in the shadows. I was never as smart, talented, or outgoing as my siblings. Toss in the extended family, I might as well have been in the locker room.

Why I thought that would change as an adult, I do not know.

I’m still second string. The coach rarely moves me up to start.

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It was decision time on the playing field of Life. I stood there waiting as the coach scanned the possible player choices.

Pick me, pick me, I silently pled.

I have the ability. I have the resources. I have the space.

But I was bypassed.

Game after game, I have the empty couch, the silent tv, and the worry of waiting until midnight when teens are safely back home.

You see, someone else always gets chosen to play. Someone else gets the full couch, the movies playing, the stories shared, the memories made, and the security of knowing no one is due home late.

Why can’t I be like “someone else”?

There’s always a reason given as to why I continue to be second string.

But coach, all the time?

I concede that a few games have been played where I was given a crack at the start.

More often than not, I was pulled out at the end of the first quarter and someone else brought into play.

Why?

What is wrong with me?

I thought I had a sure winner a few weeks ago when family came to town. Surely I’d be picked to play.

I was wrong. Someone else’s family came to town too and won the coin toss.

Well, you know what?

I am tired of being hurt. I am tired of feeling second rate. I am tired of not being good enough. I am tired of being made to feel guilty about my opinion.

But most of all,I am tired of crying.

So guess what, coach?

I quit.

I’ll try out again a few years when the teams change.

Barbie and the Bathroom

Whoever built Barbie’s house needs to rethink the design.

One bathroom? With Barbie and all her friends??

That is just SO not possible.

After all, we are talking about lots of pretentious girls. Ones who require lots of care. Ones who think the world revolves around them.

Today, I banished my girls to play in the playroom while I parked myself on the couch with a James Patterson book.

Don't judge....I needed some ME time!

My afternoon was spent listening to this dialogue….

Abby: “She’s been in the bathroom too long. Isn’t she done yet?”

Anna Grace: “No, she’s washing her hands.”

Abby: “She should be done by now. I need a turn.”

Anna Grace: “Oh wait, she has to go to the bathroom.”

Abby: insert whine…”it’s taking too long. Get done. It’s my turn.”

Long pause….

“Mom? Her Barbie is taking too long in the bathroom.”

Seriously?

Arguing over time in a fake bathroom?

Guess this is setting me up for the real thing in a few years.

Better make sure we have more than one bathroom.

My Top Ten List

Hmmm. Top ten. Top ten of what? Ten best books? Ten best drinks? Ten best places to visit? Ten worst veggies?

Nope.

My top ten mom pet peeves list.

We all have them. Things others in the household do that make you crazy. Or push your buttons a little. And send you just a tiny bit further over the edge….

Here is my top ten list of things that irritate me (think David Letterman):

10. Phone calls coming in and messages being passed along two hours later.

9. A nameless teen driving one of the three vehicles we own and leaving trash behind in the vehicle.

8. Arms seemingly unable to remove items from the dryer unless the items in the dryer belong to the aforementioned arms.

7. Someone using up all the bread and not removing more from the freezer. A frozen sandwich is not tasty.

6. Not replacing the toilet paper when empty or replacing it incorrectly. Toilet paper should always roll from the top (over not under).

5. A clean dishwasher that causes eyes to look elsewhere. Evidently, it cannot be unloaded without explicit directions from an elder…..although, to be quite honest, I have had a few exceptions to this rule.

4. The forgetfulness of others….oh, I forgot to tell you we are out of milk. Or cheese. Or bread. You get the picture.

3. Texts or phone calls not being answered when mom beckons. Ahem. The phone is there for a reason. Ignoring is bad, very, very, bad.

2. Questions being asked by mom, info being relayed and ignored all due to…..TV. Gonna pull the plug on that thing.

And my number one mom pet peeve is……..

1. The inability to rinse out the kitchen sink after washing the dishes. Very thankful to have the help to clean up but…..run the garbage disposal too!

I’m sure you can add to my list…..

Happy complaining. =)

Burn, Baby, Burn!

The Fourth of July weekend. What does that mean to you?

To us it means celebrating the nation’s birth with family, friends, food, and fireworks!

The girls were psyched for a party day. So, envisioning a late night, mommy tried to invoke a nap time courtesy of Benadryl. It failed.



My parents opted to brave the craziness and join us from Virginia for the festivities. Brave souls.





Dinner was grilled even with the interruptions from Grandpa….



firework loot was examined,



and food consumed.

Burnmaster Brian



was ready and waiting when we witnessed fire outside…

What?

Alex and our neighbor started the redneck firework version and burned steel wool on a coat hanger.

Yep. Seriously.

After the fast redneck show, we headed to pre-selected neighborhood spot to shoot our illegal, out of state, Alabama fireworks.

But our spot was not spray painted with our name in case the cops showed up.

We were not there. We were not there. Got it?

Abby’s job, assigned by the big kids, was to watch for the cops. Abby as a lookout? Lovely. She can’t even see dust on the ground before the trips over it.

Anna Grace was pretty freaked by the concept of the police showing up. She was worried about being arrested and tossed in the joint. At one point a car approached us….and she yelled, “Is that the cops??”

Poor kid. We’ve scarred her for life.

Regardless of the fear of the po-po, we pressed forward with our fireworks display.

Teens were taught the skill of how to light roman candles and other fun, dangerous things.




The small group



grew to over 50 neighbors before the show ended.

Illegal fireworks are amazing.

Of course, if we didn’t live in Georgia, they wouldn’t be illegal, but I digress.

The Fourth of July wouldn’t be the same without food, friends, family, fireworks, and fun drinks.

And, the time to remember how our country began.