A Day To Remember

My grandfather turned 96 yesterday. Actually, I think when you are that age, it should be "MY GRANDFATHER TURNED 96 YESTERDAY!!!" That's a big number, and the proper amount of enthusiasm is necessary. As a special present, he got to watch the Steelers win! (singing) "Pittsburgh's going to the Superbowl!"






See that smile? Can you feel the enthusiasm? Can you hear the laughter? Someday, when my grandfather is no longer with us, I think that is what I will remember most about him - his laugh. He loves to laugh, and he laughs often. Yesterday, he laughed A LOT. The cause of the laughter? My crazy kid, that my grandfather adores. I think seeing Dylan might have been his favorite part, even topping the Steeler game! When he was opening his gifts, Dylan had to help. Dylan opens gifts with gusto - RRRIIPP! Watching the two of them - my heart was full. It definitely topped the game for me.

...As I threw my own wardrobe into the trash...

If you've ever watched "What Not to Wear", on TLC, you know the drill. Friends, family, and co-workers gather with the hosts, Stacey and Clinton, to bombard some poor, fashionably challenged nominee who has no idea what is about to hit them. They are almost always shocked and embarassed, and some are even angry and mortified. Then, they are told that they have been secretly filmed for 2 weeks, and that they are going to be forced to view the proof of their fashion faux pas right then and there, along with their loved ones and millions of TV viewers.

If that isn't bad enough, then they have to travel to New York with their entire pathetic wardrobe, so that Stacey and Clinton can mock them and their clothes, while they try awkwardly to defend themselves. Then comes what has to be the cruelest part - 360 degree mirrors - the horror!

I don't paint a pretty picture, do I? All that being said, I was wondering if you could all nominate me? Please?! I'm serious. It would be good TV, I'm telling you. I would be the only person in the history of the show to run towards them, hugging them with such force that I actually knock them over, and then kissing Clinton on the mouth. Or maybe both of them. Who knows? I'm a loose cannon. I would also be the only person in history to laugh maniacally as I threw my own wardrobe into the trash can with glee.

I'm not gonna lie. The 360 degree mirrors would traumatize me. Maybe I would be the first person to fall down on the floor in a heap, begging for it to be over? But it would be worth it for the $5000 to buy clothes that fit! That look good, and that fit. Imagine!

Some of you don't understand. When you need new clothes, you go to a store, look for your size in a color you like, try it on, pay for it, bring it home - WAH-LA! For me it is not that simple. If I buy jeans or pants, I'm in between two sizes. So, either I choose the smaller size and walk around uncomfortable, or the bigger size and wear a belt. (Or, you know, exercise and lose weight, heh). Then, I have to search for a store that has "long" or "tall" sizes to get the length I need. (I'm 5'11").

Then, we have my monkey arms. If I buy a shirt off the rack and put it in the dryer once or twice, the arms will be too short.

Then, there is the sheer joy of shoe shopping with size 11 narrow feet. As far as I know, there are 2 stores in my area that carry my size - Naturalizer and Littles. (Littles!! the irony) I went to Naturalizer a few weeks ago. Apparently they feel if you wear a size 11 narrow, you are an old lady with bad eyesight, because WOW, those were some ugly, old lady shoes! On to Littles, where I still didn't have a lot of choices, but those I did have were actually stylish. I found tennis shoes that fit - $134! I found black dress shoes that fit - $175! I found a pair of brown shoes that fit that almost made me cry. They were so cute that I might even get compliments on my shoes for the first time in my adult life! - $175! Is it just me, or is that crazy? Do people really pay that for shoes? Stacey and Clinton would say "it's an investment". Stacey and Clinton make more money than I do.

Jenn at Juggling Life met up with some other bloggers a while back, and posted this picture of their shoes on her blog.




I almost fell on the floor laughing/crying because if it were my shoes the picture would look like this...

Sad, and yet oddly hilarious, isn't it? Maybe it's just me - insanity breeds hilarity, I'm thinking.

So, anyway, back to my request..Could you all just go nominate me now? If they need convinced I'm sure the picture of my shoes will seal the deal. Look out Clinton.

If My Books Could Talk

Sometimes I almost think that inanimate objects can talk. I know they can't, but if they could, this is what my books have been saying lately...


A Book's Plea

Look at me,
on a shelf I sit.

I've been sitting here
for quite a bit.

Inside of me
wild adventure looms.

But I just sit
in dusty rooms.

I tell a tale
of love so sweet.

Star-crossed souls
destined to meet.

Or a story
of great suspense,

With twists and turns
that are quite intense.

I hold passion,
horror, and mystery.

Poems written
with subtlety.

Turn off your computer.
Turn off your TV.

Put down your cell,
and spend time with me.

Grab a drink,
climb into bed.

It's time your
love of words was fed.

Kindermusik Redeemed

I took Dylan to a Kindermusik class a few weeks ago. Those of you that read this post will be shocked. The nanny job I had that required me to take "A" to Kindermusik class once a week has been over since December 1st. So, why? Why would I voluntarily subject myself to that kind of torture? One word - LOVE. The love a mother has for her child that makes her capable of doing anything.

You see, ever since Dylan became a social butterfly, craving other kids to play with, I've been looking for activities. The Together With Twos preschool class was a bust. It started with three kids, and by December was down to one - Dylan. He really enjoyed it, but with no social interaction, there really was no point. So once again, I am on the hunt.

Yes, there are preschools I could drop him off at, but with my new job, I'll be spending two very long days away from him already. I want something we can do together. I just had a (nagging) feeling that he would enjoy Kindermusik. Plus, they let you attend one class for free, so what did I have to lose (besides my sanity)?

We were going to attend the very last class in that 15 week session, so I was a bit concerned that all the other kids would be pros and Dylan would be dazed and confused. HA! Not quite. He tried to take over the class!

We got there early, and when the instructor put out the instruments for the kids to try, while everyone was arriving, I just had to laugh. When I went with "A", I would have to hand her an instrument from the bin, and try to get her engaged. Dylan, on the other hand, went right over the second she put the bin on the floor, and proceeded to dump out the contents. The other kids seemed a bit confused by this strange kid who felt the need to try out each and every instrument with great enthusiasm.

When it came time to clean up, my kid was the one telling the others where to put the instruments - "In dere!! In dere!!" Dylan bounced on my legs, pounded the carpet with his imaginary hammer, marched, sang, and danced, all with a big, goofy grin on his face. When we were to stand up and march in place, Dylan marched around and around everyone in the circle, while beckoning, "Come, Mommy!"

When we got to the part where you swing the kids up in the air, he let out a laugh from deep down in his belly. "Finally!", I thought. Jim said that I took Dylan because I needed closure. He said my life just wouldn't be complete until someone danced with me at a Kindermusik class. That could be true, but whether we go back or not, it was totally worth it, for that laugh alone.

Time

Why am I such an emotional being? Why is it that a child's gentle, hesitant voice, singing a song, can stir such strong feelings in me? Why is it that a photograph of two sisters hugging can bring a tear to my eye? Why is it that an older couple, walking hand in hand always puts a smile on my lips?

Maybe I was emotional before, but it is not the same. I am not the same.

The first big change in me came after Doug died. Before someone dear to you dies, you don't give death much thought. You know it happens, but it is out there, way in the future. But, once death barges into your life, like an unwanted houseguest, it is impossible to ignore. It finds its way into all the crevices of your home, and even when it leaves, your home is never the same. You remember what it was like having it barge through your door, and the memories linger like faint traces of perfume.

After Doug died, I realized the value of time. Before, time was like a never ending dixie cup dispenser. If I had a bad day, tomorrow would be better. If I said something I wished I could take back, I would apologize the next time I saw the person. Things could always wait.

After he died, and the fragility of time became clear to me, time took on new meaning. There is an urgency now - a need to spend my time wisely. It is difficult for me to stay at a job that makes me unhappy. It is difficult for me to spend time with negative people. It is difficult for me to put things off.

When I leave someone I love, even for a short time, I often think, "Did I hug them? Did I say I Love You? Do they know how much they mean to me?" I start to go down that scary "what if" road more often than I probably should. I usually shake my head forcefully to rid the thoughts from my mind. It's not something that I want to focus on, but at the same time, there is a gift that comes in the understanding that life is uncertain. Appreciation. For little things, like sunsets, butterflies, and the smell in the air after it rains. For big things, like watching Jim and Dylan play, and spending time with my family. An appreciation for people - the ones who are always there for me when I need them.

The second big change in me came the day I looked into my son's eyes for the first time. It was as if I had been wearing sunglasses with the wrong prescription up until that point. The world immediately became clear to me, clear and bright and beautiful, and full of love. Time took on new meaning once again. Talk about an urgency! I had even less time in my days!

I did make one New Years resolution for 2009. I resolve to have pictures of our family hung on the walls of our new home this year. This might not seem like a big deal, but for me it is. Other than that, I would just like to spend more time doing the things that I love, and less time doing the things that I don't. In 2009, I wish that for all of us.

Small Towns

I grew up in the suburbs, about one hour from the city, 20 minutes from the nearest mall or movie theater. My first and second years of college, I attended a school that was smack dab in the middle of no where. It was a bit unnerving.

I really don't think that I am a country girl. I think living on a big stretch of land, with no nearby neighbors, would make me a bit crazy. I need people, noise, and a bit of hustle and bustle. The traffic, and not being able to eat at a restaurant without waiting, I could do without, but still.

Every time that Jim and I drive through the boonies, I become perplexed. (It amuses Jim). Then come the questions. "Where do these people buy groceries? Get a haircut? Buy gas? Where is the nearest hospital? What if there is an emergency? Who do the kids play with - those cows in the field? How can they stand it?"

I would consider our old house city living, to an extent. So, yes, there were plenty of people around, but I didn't know any of them. Even at our new house, although the neighbors have mostly all been friendly, I don't know them yet. I'm not sure I would feel comfortable going over to ask for a cup of sugar, (you know, if I baked).

I never thought I would like living in a small town, where everyone knew my business, and I couldn't walk down the street without someone stopping me to gossip about so and so. But, today I got a taste of small town living, and I must say, it was pretty delicious.

I started my new nanny job the week of Christmas. I work with two girls, one 6 and one 3, two days a week. Today was the first day I took the younger one to preschool. The preschool is in a very small town. I had 2 1/2 hours to kill, and very few options in this tiny place, so I stopped in the coffee shop first. Not a Starbucks, mind you, but a little, cozy, ma & pa coffee shop with tablecloths on the tables. The owner worked behind the counter. I know she is the owner because she introduced herself to me! She came over, after I sat down, asking me, "Is this your first time in town?" Her smile was warm and welcoming, and she shook my hand while introducing herself. When I left, I heard her say, "Hope we see you again, Jen!" I get the feeling she'll call me by name next Tuesday, if I return, which of course I will. She knew the names of all the other customers, and I could hear her greeting them. "Hi Bill! How's your wife? Mary! So good to see you! How was your Christmas?"

When I walked into the tiny library next, I was convinced I had stepped into a Norman Rockwell painting. The librarian smiled at me as I entered, saying "Hello! How are you today?" I even got the feeling I could say more than "Fine" or "Good", and she would listen. We discussed the cold weather briefly, then she told me, "Let me know if you need anything".

There is a connection in small towns that is rare. It might be nice to walk down the street and have everyone know my name. It might be nice to feel connected to my neighbors. I might even enjoy hearing that gossip, especially if it's juicy.

***Thought you might like to know what happened after I wrote this. When it was time to pick up the little girl from preschool, I gathered my things and reached in my coat for my keys - no keys. I reached into my pant pockets - no keys. I looked in my purse - no keys. PANIC!! I went back to search the bathroom - no keys. I asked the librarian if anyone had turned keys in - no keys. She asked the other two employees - no keys.

Then, she talked me through where I had been. "Could they be in your car?" I ran out there and the car was locked. I had to lock it when I got out. At that moment the librarian, and two other people, (who I don't even think worked at the library), came out to look around my car to see if I dropped it. That is when the freezing rain started. We all rushed back inside and I searched again. I suddenly thought, "OMG, I'm gonna have to walk in the freezing rain to the school to pick her up, then call someone! I have FIVE MINUTES!!" Then, I had another thought - St. Anthony! (If you don't know about St. Anthony I will be telling that story another day). Honestly, one minute after praying to St. Anthony I took off my coat and checked the pocket in my sweatshirt - KEYS!!!

If I hadn't just moved all our crap into a new house, I'd probably be looking for a house in that town.

Christmas Confusion and Christmas Clarity

Forgive me for talking about Christmas in January, but time really got away from me. Remember that I said that Dylan wanted milk and a donkey for Christmas? Well, I might have been confused. I mean, I was confused. Oh, who am I kidding? I'm still confused. Talking to a toddler does that to you.

After Jim informed me that he thought Dylan was saying "cookie", we had this conversation...


I think he was saying "milk and cookies", but I'm not sure if that's what he wanted, or if that's what he wanted to give Santa?!

Last year at Christmas time, Dylan had no idea what was going on. He didn't know about Santa, and he wasn't interested in unwrapping presents. He was much more interested in showing off his new skill - walking - and seeing how many things he could now reach and pull down on top of himself.

This year, he took it all in. He soaked it up like a very absorbent sponge. He learned about Santa, and Rudolph, and the presents they would be bringing - if he was good. He listened, wide eyed, as he heard the story of Mary riding the donkey and giving birth to Jesus in the stable. He learned to sing "Jingle Bells", and "Rudolph". He "helped" his daddy put up the big tree, and he counted the snowmen that I put up on the mantle. He chose ornaments to put on his little tree, and he reminded me to turn it on. He marveled at the Christmas train display that we took him to, and I thought we would have to drag him out kicking and screaming. He opened presents with much pizazz, even ones that didn't belong to him (mine, Jim's, the ones on the wall at Kings, whatever). He made cards (with his daddy's help) for me, and his grandparents, saying "Merry Christmas". He opened a gift that was bigger than him...




and a very special present from Santa...



He got art supplies, puzzles, a doctor kit, and loads of new books, and as he opened his gifts, my obsessive compulsive kid put each one in a neat, orderly line.

Yes, he got all of us into the Christmas spirit this year. But my favorite part of all was during Christmas dinner, when my sweet, smart boy reminded us all of the true meaning of Christmas. In the midst of all the chomping and chatter, he started to sing, "Habby Berfday to you. Habby Berfday to you. Habby Berfday, Baby Jesus, Habby Berfday to you".