Princess Bettina

Princess Bettina, that’s what we call our 9 year old daughter when she is acting a little naughty but we think it’s cute and so we do nothing. Friday, I was never so glad to see her sweet face and I vowed to cherish her all weekend. I said I would be perfect mommy, but on Saturday when she lost her coat at dance recital, I did yell a bit and told her that she needed to be responsible, and then she said, “Mom but how about my dance, did you see it? Was it good?” And I was crushed and heartbroken and sorry that I didn’t say that to her first.

After, I went to Wal-Mart for a few last minute items. She usually asks if she can ride in the cart like she did as a baby and toddler and I say, “No, please, you are a big girl now.” But on Saturday, I said “Of course!!” And my husband hoisted her lanky frame into the buggy where she sat in the large basket, delighted to have achieved such a victory. K and I pushed her around the store putting whatever she asked for (Juicy Fruit gum and a soda) into the cart without question.  We made googly eyes at each other and said, “Oh look at our daughter, Princess Bettina, isn’t she beautiful? How can we serve you Princess Bettina?” She laughed it up and as we left the store me, the original Safety Scissors ran, pushing the cart as fast as I could, then let go screaming, “hahaha, no hands no hands.” She replied with more grins and the appropriate squeals of faux terror.

Laters.  

SCrAbBLe

Just shared the story with a friend of the first year that the husband came home with me for the holidays, after which, I realized that we probably sound similar to a TLC show like "Honey Boo Boo" or some such. We are big Scrabble players, we all play somewhere along the way when we are together, maybe the night before Thanksgiving  or Christmas Day, sitting around; undoing the top button to let the turkey have a little more room. This was a Christmas Day if I remember correctly and two of my brothers had just gotten into it over the validity of a played word. Dad went for more pie and Mom said, “Take it outside.”

Mom was a big fan of “take it outside.” We fought each other like wild cats and as long as we took it outside, Mom didn’t have much to say either way. I still bear the scars from some of our glorious battles, especially the knee and elbow ones from the time I ran over Jon when he refused to move out of the gravel road until I gave him back his bike. I refused to give him the bike and so we were at an impasse and I had to run him over on principle. Wise? I think not, but at least we were outside. And who can forget the time that I hit David on a sneak attack with a half watermelon, lobbed perfectly from the porch right into his face as he rounded the corner of the house. Perhaps my finest hour in sibling rivalry.

The close proximity to family during the holiday, often brings out the 4 year old in me and I revert to preschool tactics like biting, scratching and eating someone’s cookie while they aren't looking. Once, to my shame, my son caught me in the middle of a slap fight with one of my brothers after a particularly long post-Thanksgiving afternoon.

 In a complete shift in paradigm, K grew up in a household where “stink” was a bad word and you never, ever said poop or anything of the sort. Any you most certainly were not allowed to “take it outside.” So he didn't know what to say or do that Christmas as my brothers rolled around in the yard punching and kicking over the validity of tile placement. He worriedly said, “Should I do something?” I said, “yeah,” and so we had some more pie too. Laters.

Installation

In order to um… “save money” (aka-getting NFL Sunday ticket) the hubs switched our cable and internet. He took the afternoon off to meet the technicians at the appointed time, except they never showed. Finally, about 3 hours late, the internet provider tech showed. He was not excited about the idea of running cable through our upstairs office, but I was firm with him and so he got to work. After some loud, screechy drilling, he was done and I sent him on his way with a piece of cake to thank him for not hassling me too much and to get in his good graces should I ever need him to come back.

In the midst of the drilling , Kev missed the phone call from the cable tech saying that he was severely overbooked and that he wouldn’t make it and we’d need to call to reschedule. As you can imagine, K was very happy with this news and not at all irritated when he called customer service. Haha. 

When he made the call, we were told that we would receive a call in less than 20 minutes to rebook our appointment time. Soon, it was after 9pm and we had not received the “20 minute guaranteed call back” so we gave up for the night and K settled in to watch some baseball while I read a magazine on the couch. About 9:15 the doorbell rang and K opened the door to a very agitated service tech from the cable company. He stated loudly that his boss had told him he had to come by and that he had worked 13 hours straight with no food and the more he talked the louder he got. So of course the hubs invited him inside.

Yes, I said he invited an agitated, hungry, stranger straight into the house. He continued to gesticulate wildly, saying how hungry he was, how his supervisors had overbooked him, how he was from Long Island, far from home, and how he hadn’t had a break all day. Having no other foods in the house as my kids were away and having given my last piece of cake to the internet tech, I had to think quickly as I was afraid we might be murdered or something. I called on my Southern hospitality training from my dear, sweet mama, and offered him a cold glass of iced tea. He drank it down in a few gulps, I refilled it and he calmed down. I filled it again and he was as calm as a lamb. He lingered around for a few more minutes as the hubs and I made commiserating comments about his horrible day and finally we were able to walk him out the door. As the door shut, I gave the hubs “the look” and said “Really, you invited him in?!?” The hubs said, “Babe, he’s tired and lonely.” 

Thinking back on it, I hope that glass of tea made his day a little better than it was. Kindness, I suppose, is never out of style. Laters. 

It All Happened So Fast

My mother and I were at forever at loggerheads in the weeks before my wedding, arguing over trivial details. After one particularly hot fight, as she hand glued hundreds of seed pearls to my wedding dress train she said, “It just doesn't seem long enough. You shouldn’t be old enough to get married.” I probably wasn't but I  harrumphed in my mind thinking that I had lived forever and seen and done all there was, and that just waiting the few weeks until the wedding would seem like an eternity. But I see now exactly what she meant, time truly flies and those baby cheeks turn into bristly razor stubble and the feet I used to kiss are now smelly and I wouldn't touch them with a ten foot pole.

 Last night, when she was supposed to be getting ready for bed, brushing her teeth and that sort of thing, my daughter took my bra from the bathroom counter, fastened it up over her shirt and came out humming a burlesque type tune and doing the shoulder shimmy. K immediately said, “Take it off, that’s not funny!” To which she hummed and shook all the more. Then his face got red and he said more emphatically, “Take it off!” She isn’t scared much of him and I was laughing and Son A was laughing so she hammed it up until her daddy’s face got really worried/mad/scared and then she dashed into the bathroom to take the bra off leaving her father with this parting shot, “I know how to take this off and on!”  It seems that someone isn’t ready to see his baby girl in a bra. Not that I am, I think I just tend to handle that kind of thing a little better.

Speaking of Son A, he, a freshman was invited to the prom by a junior. The prom, oh my word… I immediately said, “No way!” and he laughed at me and his father said, “Of course, you the man!” with a fist pump. Am I the only one who sees a paradox? My son, who is now a full head taller than me, chased by a girl and an older woman at that; I don’t feel comfortable with this. It seems like someone isn't ready to see their son in a tux holding a corsage. Stop it, stop growing up! That's not funny! Laters.

**Cricket, Cricket**

If there is one thing my husband and I are great at- it’s communication. We discuss our kids, jobs, social events, world happenings, thoughts and feelings. We hit all topics and over the years, we’ve worked out some pretty big issues like parenting, staying together, goals and dreams by always honestly communicating. Most Saturdays we can be found, running errands, spending time together and the conversations flow like water, we text, tweet and IM each other throughout the day; discussing the trivial and the important. We have family dinners and talk with the kids about the world, grades, and the upcoming zombie apocalypse. (The boys are convinced it’s gonna happen) And when we’re alone, I never run out of interesting topics like whether I should try laser hair removal and he always listens and adds some convo of his own like how I should jump on the Knicks Jeremy Lin bandwagon.

Then this happens, the awkward Valentine Day lunch, the night away at the bed and breakfast, the weekend dinner out alone and we look at each other like a spinster and a bachelor, desperate for love, who met online and really don’t have anything in common. We have NOTHING to say. It’s like the pressure to be romantic overwhelms us and we are frozen into two crash test dummies. Does this happen to anyone else?

Stilted conversation, long pauses, out of our element and I scramble my brain looking for a topic, any topic to talk about, some common ground but it’s like we are two strangers. Our V-Day lunch was brilliant, discussing how good the food was, I mean it was good, but I think saying it once or twice was enough. We both tried to foster conversation and it went smoother than other times, but it was still rough, and I consider us both excellent conversationalists.

Last night, back at home, we had a delightful evening. (except for the part where he watched basketball, but that’s a story for another time) We danced, had wine, ate cupcakes, shared chocolates with the kids, and it all felt right. I felt like me and he seemed like him and conversation was good.  

Is it the pressure to be romantic and sexy that makes it not? If so, I propose no more “planned” nights or buying into forced romantic holidays, just "off the cuff" weekends away, no pressure dinners, and long walks on the beach… but let’s say we won’t call them dates. Laters.

The Thin Line

Yesterday morning, I came downstairs to have some coffee and on the kitchen counter, I found a syringe and a rubbery tube with a cap. Curious, I unscrewed the cap and inside the tube were small crystals. Naturally, I freaked out. My first thought was, “OH MY GOSH, one of my kids is a drug addict!!” I grilled son B when he came downstairs, but by his blank stare I could tell he had no idea what I was talking about. I let my daughter off the hook because she is only 9, so that left Number 1 son to take the blame. K was not home at the time so I fretted and worried and only just barely stopped myself from going to the school to pick him up and confront him.

When I talked with K, I worriedly told him of my suspicions and he jumped on the band wagon with me, casually asking the cop who patrols his work parking lot what kind of drug it was. The cop fortunately didn’t arrest K for drug paraphernalia and said that he didn’t think it was drug related as the syringe was too large.

On the tube in small letters was the word Oasis which I was sure must be the new recreational party drug amongst teenagers and I googled it numerous ways, looking for any information and came up with zilch. K also did the google routine and came up with nothing as well.

When Son A came home from school, we pounced on him like tigers, asking him about it, demanding that he tell us what it was.

He was puzzled why we were so concerned about his GUITAR DEHUMIDFDIER!!!!

http://www.google.com/products/catalog?client=browser-rockmelt&channel=omnibox&q=oasis+guitar+humidifier&um=1&ie=UTF-8&tbm=shop&cid=14455280251702486017&sa=X&ei=xvEqT8HFNozWiAL04J3CCg&ved=0CKABEPICMAc

Ah, well….better safe than sorry, or perhaps more apropos better to be embarrassed than sorry. Laters.