Curse #54 - Unexpected Milestones

As a mother, there are those milestones in our children's lives that we know are coming; their first steps, their first day of school, their first car.  As tough as these milestones can be on a mother's heart, we know these milestones are coming, and we can properly prepare.

 However, there are some milestones that a mother can't see coming, and can't prepare. Next thing she knows, she feels like a mack truck ran over her heart smushing it into a million tiny little pieces and she still has to keep going on like nothing has happened.

What?

Is my analogy a little strong?

Well, I had one of those unexpected milestones last week, and that's exactly how it felt.

Last week, we celebrated B's eighth birthday with his traditional birthday week.  (Yes, every person in our family gets an entire birthday week.  Yes, my future daughters-in-laws are going to hate me.)

For the past six years, B and I have a tradition of going to the Choo Choo Barn on B's actual birthday. (You can read about how that started here.)

The night before the big event, I asked Brandon, "Guess where we are going tomorrow and dad gets to go with us this year too!?!"

He replied, "uhhh, where Mom?"

What? That was odd! We've been to the Choo Choo Barn every year since he was three and suddenly he, who has an excellent memory, forgets that fact! And you know what else was odd! B hadn't even reminded me we were going all week. In fact, he hadn't said a word about the Choo Choo Barn, and he always drives me crazy reminding me about it every year.

Oblivious to his subtle hints, I told him, "C'mon crazy! Where you and I go every year together. We are going to the Choo Choo Barn!!!" (You have to say the last three words in your best Oprah voice because that's how I said it.)

Not sharing in my excitement, he looked at me and said in the same tone of voice that my parents used when they told me my cat Frisky had been eaten by the neighbor's dog, "Awww Mom. I don't like trains anymore. I've grown up."

Honk! Hooooooooonk! Splat.

B tried to let me down easy, but his words hit like a mack truck to my heart.  I squeaked out, "Okay Baby...I mean Big Guy. We will think of something else to do."

With a big smile on his face, he said, "Thanks Mom," and he went back to watching tv like this monumental milestone didn't just happen.

Spontaneous tears erupted from my eyes.  I just couldn't control it.  Shad, who saw the whole thing, held my hand and chuckled as he said, "Poor Momma's heart."

Fortunately, B was still distracted by the tv and didn't see my whole meltdown. Even in my sadness, I was glad that he felt comfortable enough to tell me the truth, and I didn't want to make him feel bad for growing up.

Grateful for the tv distraction, I took the opportunity to slip out of the room, and started squallin' as soon as I made it to the kitchen.

If you are not familiar with southern vocabulary crying is a couple of tears, but squallin' is ugly crying.

Why did this bother me so much?

I just kept hearing his words over and over in my head, "Awww Mom. I don't like trains anymore. I've grown up."

Suddenly, I was in a spiral of sorrow that sounded a little like this...

Since when is he too grown up for anything besides drinking from a bottle and needing me to change his diaper?

As they approach manhood, boys to pull away from their moms in normal psychological development. Is this the beginning of that?

We had the best time last year. If only I had known it was our last!!!

Eight years old is only one year away from nine which is half way to eighteen.

Half way to adulthood!!!!!

When my squallin' had calmed down to a controllable sob, I decided I only had a few options to handle the situation.

 I could just force him to go. It is a tradition after all! However, the only thing more miserable than not going to the Choo Choo Barn would be going with a grumpy little...I mean grown up....boy.

 I could rebrand the trip. Choo Choo does sound a little babyish. The same trip to the Choo Choo Barn followed by the Petting Zoo and Candy Store with a different, more mature sound may win him over.

"Hey Brandon, do you want to go to the Model Train Agricultural Community? Afterwards, we can go observe some billy goats and get some coffee."

That plan almost worked, but I knew he wouldn't agree to the traditional "sit in the big train and act like a conductor" picture, and then we would be back to the same he's grown up problem again.

The last option was that we just didn't go to the Choo Choo Barn this year.

As much as it stung, this was really my only option.

After processing the milestone for a few days, I realized why this hurt so much.  The Choo Choo Barn was my last bit of "four year old Brandon." The Brandon obsessed with tractors, trains, dirt, and the pair of rain boots that he wore every day for six months.  Four year old Brandon was sweet and fun, but I had to mourn him, let him go, and move on with Brandon today.



As B grows, I don't want to be a mom that freezes in her relationship with her child. I don't want him to grow up, and our only conversations are from years past and never in the present.  I want to know him as he is today. The eight year old who's still sweet and fun, but is now obsessed with books and Star Wars.

So that's just what I did.  Friday, we didn't go to the Choo Choo Barn, but we took a family day and still had lots of fun.

On Saturday, we were all supposed to go to Star Wars Day at a local children's museum for Brandon's Birthday Adventure.  The night before the adventure, Shad said, "Colli hates people in costumes.  Why don't you just take Brandon by yourself."

This was not a man trying to weasle his way out of an activity.  This was a man that knew his wife well and knew exactly what she needed, and that's one of the many reasons I love that man so.

Shad was very right. Star Wars Day with Brandon was so good for my hurt heart.

Although there wasn't a single train in sight, Star Wars Day felt an awful lot like the Choo Choo Barn.

There was still a little...I mean grown up... birthday boy obsessed with his favorite thing.

And there was still a mom that loves that grown up boy so much she loves his favorite thing too.

And that mom occasionally embarrassed that grown up boy.

Someday I'm sure B will tell me, "Awww Mom. I don't like Star Wars anymore. I've grown up," and I will probably squall all over again as that mack truck barrels straight into my heart.

Next time though, I will know that although his interests and hobbies may change as he grows, our connection and love must stay the same. That knowledge really is what got me out of the spiral of sorrow.

Wellllllll, that knowledge and one more thing....

Guess who's going to the Choo Choo Barn on his birthday this year!!!

I figure I can get four more years of trips out of him.

Curse #53 - Sometimes a Mother Can't Win

Ever since Brandon started first grade, he has said every morning, "I don't want to go to school.  I want to stay with you." His behavior really alarmed me because he loved school last year.

Every morning after his complaining, I would ask him, "Is someone being mean to you? Isn't your teacher great?" He told me he liked his teacher and everyone was nice to him, "but Mommy, I just want to be with you!!!"

At first, I didn't believe him.  I even asked his teacher about it. Surely, the problem was more complex than just missing me, but then I remembered our summer.  This summer, I had a different activity for us every day.

It was busy and tiring, but we really had a great summer.  We enjoyed the time we had together and tried to make the most of it.

However, as great as our summer was, I realized as the case is often in motherhood, YOU CAN'T WIN!

We had such a great summer, but now, B thinks I do that kind of stuff every day and he doesn't want to go to school! No matter how many times I tell him that was just for the summer, he just doesn't believe me. I've always been careful when he asks me what I am doing while he is at school. The answer is always the most boring activity in the world to Brandon, "Cleaning the house." Unfortunately, he sees the house when he comes home so he's not believing me.

Yesterday morning, B was particularly upset on the way to school. I had had enough mornings of this and lectured him on choosing his focus, but the lecture didn't work. When we got to school, he was even more upset. "I just don't want to leave you!"

After many tears and theatrics, the truth finally came out as B cried, "I saw pictures of you and Collin on the ipad that you took without me!!!"

What?

Yes, the iPad sold me out.

Here are the pictures he found...

I tried to console him, "B we weren't anywhere fun. We were just in the kitchen. I was 'cleaning' and Collin walked in and asked to take a picture." But it was no use because B continued to cry, "But you took the pictures without ME!"

Stunned, I look at him and said, "Well, then that's an easy solution. When you get home from school today, you and I will take some pictures together."

AND THAT WAS IT! THAT WORKED!

He dried up his tears and walked into school happy that we would take some pictures after school.

As soon as he got home, we took our silly selfies with our best funny faces.

My Level 1 Funny Face - It's funny, but still manages to make my face look slim.

 Level 2 Funny Face - It still looks cute, but not as flattering

Level 3 Funny Face - When the neck wrinkles start to show up, it's getting serious

Level 4 Funny Face - Buck Teeth and neck wrinkles....almost there.

Level 5 Funny Face - You lose all sense of looking good, and just go for it. I'm going for the squinty chipmunk look while B is going for the exorcism look.

I really hope this "I don't want to go to school" thing is just a phase because I feel like I have run an emotional marathon before 9:00 am every day. If it doesn't next summer we are just sitting in the house all day every day, and he will be so happy to go back to school.

Sometimes I wish motherhood came with an instruction manual, but in real life I just have to know my child, do my best, and delete all incriminating pictures off the iPad.

And just to be fair....

After B and I  finished our silly pictures, Collin got in on the fun and tried B's signature exorcist face.

But just when it started getting sweet, Colli tried to push B out of the way with his head. (Those are my "the boys are driving me crazy" eyes)

Then B had to fight back.

Ahh motherhood! Sometimes you just can't win.

Curse #52 - Girlfriends

Remember yesterday's sweet and touching post that I wrote through tears.  If you missed it, you can read it here.  I am so pleased to inform you that B had a wonderful first day of school.

In fact, when I picked B up, he excitedly ran to me and said, "Mom, I saw my girlfriend, Haley, and I asked her if she still wanted to marry me and she still does!"

Now, I need to stop and give a little background information.  Last year, shortly after B started kindergarten, he came home and informed me that he had a girlfriend, Haley. (Let's just call her Haley for the purpose of this post even though her name is not Haley.)

Anyway, when he told me he had a girlfriend, I had to choose how to react.  Would I condemn or encourage his new relationship? Ultimately, I decided to be neutral.  I was Switzerland when it came to Haley.  I wanted him to feel comfortable talking to me about girls, and these childhood "boyfriend" and "girlfriend" deals pass quickly.

Last year, Haley was in a different class than B and I never met her. I forgot to buy a yearbook so I never saw a picture of her. Even though he spoke of her often, I honestly suspected that she was imaginary.

Last year, he did bring home this picture that he said she gave him. In fact, his exact words were, "Mom, my girlfriend gave me this and it has gone way too far for me."

My interpretation of this picture is that she is either kissing him under a table or burning him with her x-ray vision and both are equally disturbing to me.  Obviously, she is the aggressor in the picture.  Doesn't that seem a little forward to give a picture of kissing to a boy? That kindergarten Jezebel!!!!

Wait. I realize that it's not appropriate to call a six year old Jezebel. My apologies.

Switzerland.  I am Switzerland.

In the end, I decided there was no need to get upset because these things don't last over the summer.

Well yesterday, I learned how wrong I was.  The ride home from school sounded like this...

"Haley, said she would still marry me......even if I was a hunter!!!"

"Haley, sat beside me in music!"

"Haley, used to like two other boys and me, but at recess she said she only liked me now and not them!"

Really!!! She had three boys on the line at one time!!! That little elementary school hussy!!!

Wait.  As soon as I typed that, I realized how that sounded. It is not appropriate to use the word "hussy" when referring to a small child. I am deeply sorry.

Switzerland.  I am Switzerland.

If I am Switzerland, Shad would have to be France because he is like the guillotine. Once when B mentioned Haley, Shad shot it down with, "No girlfriends yet.  If you marry her you will have to move far FARRRRR away from Mommy and Daddy." B thought for a while and then said, "Oh! Then we will just move in with you."

Way to go France! That didn't go how we planned!

I don't know where this is headed, but with two boys in the house, I do know we have to get used to the girlfriend subject.  In the end, I want B to feel comfortable talking with me about his heart. I don't know if I'll be able to keep my neutrality forever, but for now, when it comes to Haley, I am Switzerland.

Which is good for her because if she ever hurts my little angel's heart she could not imagine the southern hissy fit I will rain down on her.

Wait. Not appropriate.

Switzerland. I am Switzerland.

Curse #51 - Falling Off the Wagon

For four weeks, I repeat four weeks I did not watch the Bachelor.  That may not seem like a big deal to you, but for me four weeks Bachelor free is a big accomplishment.  In the past, I've blogged about my problem. I know it's not high quality television and I still believe it's degrading to women, but so help me I love it.

However, as much as I love the show after the last round of the Bachelorette, I took it a little too far, and decided to quit the Bachelor.  Let me explain....

After the final rose last season, I searched Instagram, and followed Jeff Holmes on Instagram.  Even after the show was over, thanks to Instagram, I could still watch the fairy tale unfold as Jeff posted pictures of trips to the amusement park and Emily's daughter's first day of school.

Then one day, as I was checking out of Rite Aid, I saw a headline on the cover of a magazine sharing rumors of Jeff and Emily's break up.  Immediately, I looked at Shad and said, "Oh! That's not true! Jeff just posted a picture of them this weekend hand in hand." The statement didn't sound crazy in my head, but based on how the cashier stared at me, I'd say I was boarding the train to crazy town.

Weeks before Jeff and Emily's official break up announcement, I told Shad of my concerns. "I really think Jeff and Emily broke up.  He hasn't posted many pictures of them lately." Choo-choo! Last stop Crazy Town.

Obviously, I had taken my love of all things Bachelor too far.  That's why when the new "most dramatic season ever" rolled around, I decided not to watch and I didn't watch for four whole weeks.  Four glorious weeks when I could carry on a normal conversation about mature topics like global warming, the fiscal cliff, and  other high quality shows like Real Housewives of Where ever.  However, all that changed on Monday night.

I really didn't sit down to watch the show, it was just on in the room where I was working.  However, in just ten minutes I was sucked in all thanks to Tiara.  She makes that show worth watching.  There's a Tiara in every season, that girl that just can't get along with all the other girls.  You know the one that all the other girls say is not there "for the right reasons." That statement has always bugged me because what exactly is "the right reason" to be on the Bachelor? Would the other girls honestly say that the only reason they are on the show is love and not the fabulous travel, fame, and potential money.

So here I am again, deciding who is there "for the right reasons," seeing who has chemistry with Sean, and analyzing whether or not Tiara faked hypothermia just to get a rose.  Choo choo! I hear that train to Crazy Town rolling down the tracks.  

Curse #50 - ADDD

I know of ADD, but I think I have ADDD.  What you've never heard of that? ADDD is Attention Deficit Decorating Disorder.

Let me explain.

My ADDD really showed itself on Cyber Monday.  For their Cyber Monday special, Kirkland's had free shipping on all orders, and since I do not have a Kirkland's near me I had to check it out.

For over a year, I had been looking for the right shower curtain for our bathroom.  Because our bathtub is only connected at two walls, I needed two shower curtains.

On Cyber Monday, I found the perfect shower curtain on sale at Kirkland's $12.  I found a 10% off coupon code that would cover sales tax, and with free shipping my total came to $24 for both shower curtains!

Shad was sitting across from me, and I told him, "I want to get this shower curtain.  It's a great deal, but then again I really don't want to buy this shower curtain." Shad asked me why and I went on to explain.

If I buy the curtain, I will have to put it up as soon as I get it.

If I put the curtain up, I will notice that the green paint from the previous tenants is absolutely unbearable.

If I paint the walls, I will have to fix up the light fixture.

If I fix up the light fixture I will have to fix the medicine cabinet.

Me getting a shower curtain is just like giving a mouse a cookie.  It's starts a domino effect that I didn't know if I wanted to start.  However, I couldn't resist the deal and bought the shower curtain, and just as I suspected I was ripping down wall border the very same day.  Who cares if the living room and dining room still need curtains, my ADDD kicked in and the bathroom was all I could think about.

Over the next few days, I'll be sharing a few projects from the room.....if my ADDD doesn't kick in.

Curse #49 - It Could Be Worse

Christmas was rough.  When life gets rough, I always say the same phrase, "It could be worse!"

Monday (the week before Christmas) Shad found out some news at work about changes next year and end of the year bonuses that wasn't great news for us. When Shad told me, I said, "It could be worse!"

Tuesday my throat started hurting.  Wednesday I had a fever.  Thursday the doctor said, it's the flu.  Immediately, I thought, "It could be worse.  At least we caught it quick and it's not in my lungs."  

Friday, I woke up, and struggled to breath.  It had moved to my lungs.  Weakly, I though, "It could be worse (cough cough cough)." 

Saturday, Collin started with a fever, and we knew he had the flu.  I don't think I said, "It could be worse," at this point. 

Sunday, after three phone calls and some begging, I was so excited to get Collin some tamiflu, but my excitement was short lived when the pharmacist told me they were all out of tamiflu.  (Fortunately for me, this Rite Aid pharmacist called six other pharmacies until she found one that had tamiflu for me.)

Sunday night, I wanted to get out.  After dragging myself to the car, I was so excited to drive around and see some Christmas lights with Shad and the boys.  Then as we were in a drive thru, our car started smoking.  At this point, I couldn't be positive anymore. This was the last straw. Shad looked at me and said,  "I'm calling it," and we both said together, "Worst Christmas Ever!"
 
 I want to keep things in perspective, and I don't want to have a bad attitude. I realize having the flu on Christmas is not the end of the world.  I realize we are very blessed with food on the table,  presents under the tree, and boys beside me but why is it that when I say the phrase, "It could be worse," it actually gets worse!

A few years ago, I retired the phrase, "I will never," because I realized God has a sense of humor with me. Now, I will no longer be saying, "It could be worse," because it will always get worse.  

The week before Christmas was rough, but after Sunday though, we really had a sweet Christmas, a completely different Christmas, but a sweet Christmas. We were even able to get out on Christmas day for our Waffle House tradition.  Our Christmas changed when we all decided to make the best of what we had because we have a lot.  Now, instead of saying, "It could be worse," I think I'll just take Bing's advice and calculate my blessings.  

Curse #48 - The Christmas Shoes

Last week, Collin had a double ear infection.  Today, I woke up weasy and struggling with my asthma.  Right now, as I type, I am taking a breathing treatment which I hate because it is going to make me shake. Oh! And the cherry on top is yesterday, Georgia lost. Add that all together and shake it into one week and you've got the perfect recipe for a cranky Stephanie.

Rather than take out my crankiness on my family, I decided to focus my energy and sarcasm into writing a curse post.

I love Christmas music.  In fact, I have been listening to Christmas music since Halloween.  What can I say? I'm a Christmas nut.

Shad's doesn't like Christmas music, and knowing that fact only makes me sing Christmas songs louder in the car. The other day, The Christmas Shoes came on the radio, and for some reason, I didn't immediately turn the station.  I can't stand that song.  It is the worst Christmas song ever made.  About a minute after the song came on (about the time the man laid the money down), I realized Shad was quietly humming along.  Are you kidding me? The man doesn't like the great classics like "Grandma Got Ran Over By a Reindeer" or "Simply Having a Wonderful Christmas Time" but this, this terrible song he's humming along to!?!

I almost stopped the car.  I almost yelled, "Ten years of marriage, two kids, but do I even know you?" I almost had that reaction, but then I quickly realized I could not judge.  Those that live in glass houses should not throw stones.  See, here are a few of my Pandora stations right now.

Yes, you read that right. It's a Justin Beiber Holiday.

Let me explain.  If you've never used Pandora, it's a magical radio app that is personalized just for you based on your music tastes.  You thumbs up songs you like and thumbs down songs you don't like, and then Pandora magically picks just the right songs for you.

One day while I was listening to one of my Christmas stations, a great song started playing.  It was catchy and I really liked it.  I pulled my phone out to thumbs up the song, and was shocked to see that it was a Justin Beiber song.  This did not just happen once. It happened three or four times!

 Eventually, I just gave in and made a Justin Beiber Christmas station.  Apparently, I'm a Beiber fan and didn't even know it! So if Shad wants to hum along with that terrible song I guess he can, but I still think it's a little disturbing to hear anyone in my family sing the line, "If Momma meets Jesus tonight."
 

Curse #47 - Mistaken Identity

This weekend, I went to a Women of Faith event with a group of women from my church. On Friday afternoon, I met my friends at a Wawa (a gas station) to carpool to the event. They were running about thirty minutes late, and it was almost time for B to get out of school so I told Shad, “You can just leave me here. I'm a big girl. I'll be okay.”

After Shad left, I went into the gas station to get some snacks for the road. As I walked around the gas station with my overnight bag, everyone looked at me like I was a kleptomaniac even though my overnight bag was a Thirty One bag, and everyone knows Thirty One is based on Proverbs 31 the virtuous woman passage. It's impossible to use a Thirty One bag to steal!

Tired of looking like a klepto, I went outside hoping to find a bench. With no benches in sight, I just stood outside the gas station holding my overnight bag. I thought, “Great. Now I look like a hooker.” I tried to think of a funny facebook status about it, but I couldn't get my words right so I just took a picture of my cute bag.

Content with the quiet, I checked my favorite blogs on my phone as I waited for my ride. Then I heard it.

*snap*

*snap snap snap*

*snap snap*

At first, I just thought, “Hmm. That's annoying. Someone is not snapping on beat at all.” Then after a minute, I realized, the snapping was at me. I debated if I should look or not, but eventually I looked towards the snapping. Halfway across the parking lot, but close enough to clearly see his face, a man in a locksmith's truck was looking right at me. Apparently, he thought I looked like a hooker too.  As soon as we made eye contact, he slapped the side of his truck. He was silent, but his eyes clearly spoke what he wanted.  

Creeped out, I wanted to yell at him, “Mr. Locksmith, you will never pick this lock. I'm happily married and on my way to the Women of FAITH not Women of the Night conference, and who would turn tricks while carrying a Thirty One bag!?!” However, I didn't yell at him. Instead, I looked right at him with the meanest face I had, turned around, and walked back into the Wawa. I figured I was safer in there, and besides, I would rather look like a klepto than a hooker.

I didn't believe he would follow me into the gas station, but I determined that if he came near me the headline would read....

WOMAN BEATS MAN WITH THIRTY ONE BAG
man in critical condition, but bag is fine due to its wipe able exterior

Honestly, I was never scared because I never felt like I was in danger. I was just very....VERY creeped out and stunned.

Now to recap because it's a lot to take in: I, Stephanie Lankford, was accosted in a Wawa parking lot while I waited for my ride to a Christian women's conference.

Who does this happen to !?!

You may be wondering what I was wearing to make this happen.  Well, I just so happen to have a pic of the outfit.

See! A completely respectable outfit, not fish nets and platform boots. Afterwards, I texted my mom (because that is what I do after every major life event) and told her it must have been the giant black flower pin. Mom thought the pin may have been a signal, like turning on the red light, and told me to take it off.

Other than that incident, I really enjoyed my weekend at Women of Faith.  I just had a really interesting (and long) answer when somone asked, "How was your ride up here?"

 

Curse #46 - What Happens When I Try to Get Out of the House

When Brandon started school, I'm not going to lie, one of the things I was looking forward to was getting out more.  With just one child it should be easy for me to meet with friends and such....or so I thought.

Yesterday, for my first post-school outing, I met a friend at Chickfila to brainstorm for a project.  A simple trip, but this is what happens when I try to get out of the house.

1. As I was walking out the door I grabbed a pair of shoes for Collin.  When we got to Chickfila, I went to put on Colli's shoes, but the shoes were not there. I have no idea how they did not make it to the car. Something must have distracted me somewhere in the 30 steps from his room to the van.  So my Collin ran into Chickfila barefooted.  Yes, we brought the country back to Chickfila.  "You'd better redneckognize!" (Sorry, I know that was kind of random, but I've been looking for any chance to throw in a Honey Boo Boo reference on the blog.)

2. As the boys played, my friend and I brainstormed and took copious notes.  In a truly brilliant moment,  I knocked over my drink, and the straw poked a hole in the bottom of the fragile styrofoam cup. Diet Dr. Pepper spewed everywhere ruining my copious notes.

Now, I am not known for my fast reflexes, but I actually thought fast and dumped the bag out that I had with me.  Knowing that the inside of the bag was wipe-able, I threw in the cup and ran it to the trash can.  I threw the cup in the trash, shook out the Diet Dr. Pepper in the bag, and wiped out the bag. Easy peasy.  How smart was I?

Apparently, not too smart because I missed this sign outside of the play place.

3. As my friend and I were leaving, I went to grab my keys...only I could not find them.  I retraced my steps, and soon realized that my keys were in the trash.  When I shook the Diet Dr. Pepper out of my bag, I also shook my keys out that were in the outside pockets.  Not so easy peasy.  I tried to see if my keys were on top,  but the lunch rush had started and the trash can was full.

Another one of my friends just happened to be in Chickfila,  and just happened to be sitting right next to the trash can.  When I explained why I was hovering around the trash can, being a good friend, she said, "It happens to the best of us." And I quickly replied, "But it seems to happen to me a lot!"

Absolutely embarrassed, I told one of the Chickfila workers, "I think my keys are in your trash can."  I just wanted to find a place where I could discretely look through the trash can.  I really didn't think any of the people in the Chickfila wanted to see me digging through the trash as they ate their nuggets.

The very nice Chickfila workers told me, "Miss, you go sit down and we'll look and bring your keys to you." I felt terrible, "No, you can't do that! I messed up, and I will fix it," but they were persistent and had me sit down.  A few minutes later, one of the great Chickfila employees brought my keys to me. She even sanitized them for me!

Chickfila just got itself an even more loyal customer.

Yes, that is what I get for trying to get out of the house! A simple trip to Chickfila turns into a chaotic event.....chaotic and memorable.  Thankfully, my friend was very patient and my new Chickfila friends were very kind.

P.S. My new Chickfila friends are trying to get to 900 likes on Facebook.  They would love it if you went over and liked them.  
  

Curse #45 - "It's just kindergarten" and other lies

This morning, I will be taking my Brandon to his first day of kindergarten.....his first day of school.  I'm sorry I just had to let that sink into my mind.  I can't believe this day has finally come. 

Oh! There have been some days when I wished this day would come.  The day when he broke almost a dozen eggs in the living room.  The day when he decided to stop taking a nap.  The day when he got into all my makeup and smeared it on the wall.  Yes, all those days, I wished for the day when he would be in school. 

Does that make me a bad mom? Yes, there is part of me that is excited about this day.  Part of me is already planning a giant to do list of all the projects I'm going to do now with all my free time. 

Over the past few weeks, I haven't really thought about how big this day is.  I've told myself, "It's not a big deal.  It's just kindergarten."  However, last night, as I was getting the boys ready for bed this song came on Pandora.  By the time the song was over, you could stick a fork in me because I was done.  I was just a big weepy mess. That song has always been my song for my boys.

Suddenly, I realized, IT'S NOT JUST KINDERGARTEN.  It's just another step of letting go. 

Motherhood is a cruel joke.  God gives us these amazing gifts, but from the very second we get them, we are supposed to be preparing them to leave us.  They are simply on loan.

B and I are entering a new chapter, uncharted territory, so today I just have to take some time to cry for the chapter that we are closing.  The chapter of just he and I together, barely keeping our sanity.

As for Brandon, he is just fine.  He can't wait for school. Last night, he told me, "Mom, if somebody tries to bully me, I'm going to say, 'Hey go pick on someone else.' Mom, I'm more excited than a tick on a june bug." (Sometimes he gets his southern sayings confused.)

This morning, as I drop him off, I will be all smiles, but when I get in the car I'll have a little moment of crying.  No, it's much more than just kindergarten, it's a great reminder of the gift I have in that sweet (often times naughty) little boy. 

Curse #44 - The Pinecones

Sometime in April, I decided to help Shad by mowing the yard.  Much to my surprise, I loved it! Now, I don't have the greatest history with lawn mowers.  I ran into my parents house once, when I was trying to "help" mow the yard.  When I was twelve, I ran my friends mower off into her grandfather's garden.  Eighteen years later, and I still haven't lived that one down.  However, Shad doesn't mind so much how the yard looks as long as it gets done. 

Each week, I love the two and a half hours I get all to myself while I mow the yard, and Shad thinks I'm awesome for doing it.  Everyone wins!

 For the past several weeks though, I have made an enemy while I cut the grass, the pine cone.

Every week, I make the turn around a particular tree only to be whacked smack dab in the forehead by these pine cones.  I know that doesn't sound too painful, but these pine cones are filled with lead.  Seriously! My forehead still hurts where I got whacked last time I cut the grass. 

I realize the simplest solution would be just to pull the pine cones down, but I have never been one for the simple solutions.  Every week I have the same inner dialogue....

ow! Dumb pine cones hit me again!

I'm going to pull them off of the tree.  Problem solved.

Wait! I should see if I remember these pine cones are here next week.  I'll remember and I won't get hit. 

Yes, it's a weird twisted game that I play against myself.  Will I remember the lead filled pine cones?  So far the score is......

Pine cones - 7
Stephanie - 0

Every stinkin' single week, I forget, and every week I come around that corner and whack my forehead.  Maybe since, I am writing this post I will remember next week. 

I don't know why I am doing this strange competition with myself?  Maybe it's because I have become so forgetful since I have had kids and I want to prove I still have a brain.  Maybe it's just that I am super competitive.  All I know is that next week, I will win, but if you see me with a bruise in the middle of my forehead....don't ask. 

Curse #43 - The DMS Shirt

Generally, Shad is a good dresser.  He can put an outfit together, and bring in unexpected elements.  Sometimes he evens breaks out his blue suede shoes. 

Notice though, I said he "generally" is a good dresser.  There is one item he wears that I cannot stand.  In fact, I cringe every time he wears his DMS shirt.

Over 15 years ago, Shad got the t-shirt when he worked for DMS moving company.  Early on, the DMS shirt lost its sleeves.  It's slightly faded, but the shirt has held up unbelievably well for how much it has been worn.  (just my luck)

On his day off, somehow Shad will find his way to the DMS shirt.  On one day, he wore the cut off DMS shirt and cut off shorts.  Now, I'm not a fashion expert, but I think only one item in an ensemble should be classified as "cut off."

Most Saturdays, he wears the shirt with jeans that have the knees blown out. he is convinced that the rugged outfit gets him better deals at yard sales.  I say, "Yes, he get's better deals, but that's because people think he's homeless!"

Shad packed a suitcase full of clothes for our vacation, but somehow he ended up wearing the DMS shirt almost every day.  On the trip, I would do laundry at night, and magically that dumb shirt would end up in every load of laundry even though I didn't put it there!

The DMS shirt, for whatever reason, is his security item.  Linus has his blanket, Brandon has his monkey, Collin has his alligator, and Shad has his DMS shirt.   I don't know at what point he got attached to the shirt, but I have a feeling it was the first time I said, "I really don't like that shirt."

Often, I imagine the DMS shirt suffering a terrible washing machine accident, or I have considered hiding the shirt.........in the trash can.  However, no matter how strongly I dislike the shirt, it stays because Shad loves it so much. 

Besides, Shad is really good at Clue. He would figure it out.  "It was Stephanie, in the washing machine, with the bleach!"

Curse # 42 - The Dreaded Question

Warning: Before you read this please note that I am sharing a very embarrassing moment.  I almost didn't blog about it.  In fact, I didn't even tell Shad about it until earlier today.  It's very embarrassing, but it is also equally funny.  Funny won out and I decided to share it with you.  I figure we are good enough friends by now that you won't make fun of me too bad.

There is one question every woman dreads hearing...

What is your age? --- nope

Would you please step on the scale? --- worse than that

Can I please see you license and registration? --- even worse

Saturday, I was in Home Depot getting some supplies for a project.  As I checked out, I started a casual conversation with the checkout girl.  Nothing big, just casual, "It sure is hot today," etc. Then all of the sudden, she says, "This may be rude...but...."

Now, right there was my first hint.  I should have know right there to stop her.  When someone you just met starts a sentence with, "This may be rude," I can assure you, it's not going to end well.  After the ominous introduction, she dropped a nuclear bomb on the conversation and said....

"Are you pregnant?"

I'll pause for a minute so you can gasp and say, "Oh no, she didn't!"

I'll wait......

Oh yes she did!

"ARE YOU PREGNANT?!!"

Who asks a stranger that?  Now I've mentioned before that my mind has a fifteen minute delay, and I'm not fast on my feet.  On further reflection, I have decided that if anyone ever asks me that question again I am going to try and make them feel as awkward as they make me feel (the golden rule of awkwardness).  I came up with two answers to this question that will do just that. 

1. shhhhhhh! The father doesn't know yet, but we are leaving for the Maury show on Saturday.  Fingers Crossed!

2. No, I'm just really bloated because I'm PMSing like a beast.  My husband calls it Psychotic Menstrual Syndrome because of my violent outbursts. BOO!.....Just kidding! I wouldn't REALLY hurt you...{whisper}....not really. 

Those answers would have been awesome, but because of my fifteen minute delay brain, I didn't think of them right then.  No, my answer was even more awkward than the question.

Checkout Girl: I don't meant to be rude, but....Are you pregnant?

me: No, it's the pants.

Seriously! What kind of an answer is that?  "No, it's the pants."  The checkout girl just looked at me and repeated back my answer, "It's the pants." Except, she didn't say it as a statement.  She said it more like a question with a giggle and an upward inflection at the end, "It's the pants?" At that point, I had to resist the urge to smack her.

How does she ask me that question, and I end up being the one looking like a moron?

I almost started to explain to her how I forgot to wear a belt that morning and my pants had been falling down giving me a bit of a muffin top...okay....a lot of a muffin top.  Then I realized that I really didn't want to discuss my muffin top with a stranger so I just let it go. 

However, I did carry the conversation on...

me: No, it's the pants. Besides, I'm buying spray paint.  I don't think that's the smartest thing to get when you are pregnant. 

Checkout Girl: Well, I wouldn't know.  I smoked when I was pregnant. 

I'll pause just so you can let that soak in. 

In a matter of seconds, this complete stranger asked me if I was pregnant and then told me that she smoked when she was pregnant.  This girl had a black belt in awkwardness.

How did her suprise confession make me feel?  Appalled? No, not really.  I drank caffeine when I was pregnant, and those that live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones. 

Strangely, her confession made me feel relieved.  It made me realize this lady had no filter.  That little switch inside her head that says, "You shouldn't say this," was obviously not flipped. 

Yes, she insulted me, but consider the source.  She was sweet, but she didn't have a  filter. 

So let this be a lesson, if you see a woman that looks like she swallowed a watermelon buying a onesie in the baby section at Walmart wearing a tshirt that has "Got Milk" across the chest and she is lamaze breathing because she is in the middle of a contraction....even then....For your own safety, do not ask, "This may be rude, but are you pregnant?"