Sunday, June 28, 2009
Friday, my sister brought me a white chocolate mocha, a thank you for taking over her babysitting shift at Jazzercise this weekend. She pulled into the driveway, blaring Jackson Five's, ABC, a local radio station doing an all day tribute. We stayed in the driveway, with our mocha's, until the song was over.
Yesterday, I went over to my parents' house, and friends of theirs stopped by. Within minutes we were reminiscing about hanging Michael Jackson album covers on our walls as kids, and sitting in front of MTV counting down the hour until they showed his video again.
I've been watching a lot of Michael Jackson's videos with my girls. They've heard his music via dance class and Guitar Hero, but I guess they had never seen him before. They were amazed, shocked, and confused all at once when they saw him--That's Michael Jackson? I don't know what they were expecting, but I'm pretty sure it was closer to a Jonas Brothers video. It was even more mind boggling to them comparing earlier Michael Jackson videos to later. How do you explain that? I just kept turning the conversation back to his dancing--Look girls, he's on his toes!
I don't know what my point is on the blog today, except to talk about what we're all talking about anyway. What else is there? Don't answer that. This time last week, I would have never guessed this is what I would be doing, near-consumed with today. It's quite the event. I'm really surprised where the last few days have taken me. I'm sad. I don't even have a CD of his. I guess I'm not really that surprised. It's what you do when someone you admire in some way dies.
If Michael Jackson could see us now, right?
**Little warning...the link below is from the movie, Clerks II, which is hilarious, but maybe not the most appropriate for the kiddos. Not bad, but you know...It's Clerks.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Thriller was the first album I ever owned. I was around ten, and I can remember holding the album cover in my hand for days, not wanting to put it down, let alone stop listening to it. I just couldn't get enough. None of us could. His music is a connection to my childhood. And I do believe the music from that time is my favorite of his--Billie Jean, Beat It, Wanna Be Startin' Somethin', P.Y.T. (Pretty Young Thing). It is just so good. I remember being specifically drawn to his dancing though. Of course, the dancing. He was so smooth. I remember thinking he could float.
There is just no denying the influence his music has, the timelessness of it. I heard Man In the Mirror today for the first time in years, and remember slow dancing to it in high school. It still moves me. I forgot how much I love that song. Just the other day, my 20-month-old nephew was dancing to Thriller, throwing his little arms up in the air all tiny zombie-like, finishing the song in a creepy little laugh. My kids know who Michael Jackson is, they belt out the words to his songs right along with me.
As bizarre as his life seemed outside the music, I imagine it is the music that will continue to be the gift years and years from now.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Right away, I knew we were leaving and going to get her looked at. She was hurting and wouldn't move her arms. On the drive down, I kept thinking that I should just take her to Urgent Care, but I hate, hate, hate going to Urgent Care. So much. So much, that it's blogworthy (another day). I was trying the doctor first. Plus the Urgent Care was just across the street.
I knew it wasn't life threatening, as A-girl ripped up and down and this way and that the very idea of monkey bars everywhere, from the backseat. Blast them! If she were allowed to say the bad words (like "stupid"), she would. She never wanted to see another monkey bar as long as she liiiiived! And as long as I carried her, and walked slow, and didn't breathe on her, she managed not to scream bloody murder.
Somehow, the planets aligned, and we got right in at the doctor's office. It probably looked very dramatic when I carried her in, covered in bark dust, and snotty tears. She didn't look so good either.
Thank goodness, it was only a sprain on one of her arms. It did manage to take all the live long day anyway though. Because I took her to the doctor instead of the Urgent Care, there was only one person that could wrap a splint. We actually had to leave and come back when that person was available. So we left, got the comfort food from Wendy's, the Motrin and teeny bop magazines from Walgreen's and camped out on my mom's couch for two hours. 100% better than Urgent Care.
This was our first time really getting hurt like this--something beyond a band-aid. So it was scary for her. Despite my tedious explanation of what would happen, she had no idea what to expect, ignoring me and going to worst-case-scenario mode--Are they going to rip my skin open?
Thankfully, everything--the exam, the X-ray, the splint wasn't anything she imagined. She was a brave girl. She even used please and thank you--Please move my arm slowly. In it all, she was most afraid of the sling. The sling! She cried for five hours, not about the pain shooting up her arm, but about getting a sling! On and on and on about the sling! Then of course, when we finally got it, it was the coolest thing ever. So much better than a band-aid.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Today at Jazzercise, my beautiful girlfriend (we will call her Chery), told me she had seen my hubbs post, and that when she saw the pic he posted of him and I, she thought I looked like Ashley Judd, you know, with the short hair and everything. I really want to see it, but try as I might, I just don't see it. It did occur to me that that isn't the first time I've heard someone say that.
(I had a hard time finding one that I thought I might look like, cuz she is Ashley Judd. So I went for one that looked "normal"--well, normal for Ashley Judd.)
Now I tend to get the, "Is your name?" a lot. I usually remind people of someone they know--their kiddo's teacher, their cousin, the girl working the McDonald's counter...that sort of thing. I think I have a very "average" look about me. I blend in.
My hubbs is another story. We once had someone ask if he was this minor league baseball player who we had never heard of, but they totally thought it was him. They were thisclose to asking for an autograph. I've heard he looks like Anthony Wiggle and then there's the whole Robert Downey Jr. bit. He gets that a lot, which I totally agree with. He looks like Robert Downey Jr. on a good day. A good day for Robert. Plus, those eyelashes of his, draw people--women--in. So yeah, he doesn't blend so much.
Back to Ashley Judd though. When we still lived in Texas, I got in a minor car accident backing out of a parking spot at a movie theater (not my fault, I swear), and the cop that came to assist, took my license and gave me the whole double-take. A few times. He kept looking at my license and then back at me. I was thisclose to getting nervous on top of my already nervous, when he said, "I thought you were Ashley Judd. You really look like Ashley Judd." Don't you just love the "really"? Really. He must've been a fan. How nice it was to leave there without a ticket and a story to blog about five years later. Thank you, Ashely Judd.
(If I were to really look like her, this is probably what I would look like. I think she was recovering from surgery in this pic. But the texting is pretty accurate. Mmmmhmmmm...)
(And this is what I would want to look like if I were to look like her. True.)
Monday, June 22, 2009
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Okay, five lines.
Happy Father's Day to all of you dads out there! And I know some good ones. Especially, my babies' daddy!
It's funny looking back at the pre-kiddos era with the hubbs. The second we got married, I wanted babies. Well, to be honest, probably since I was about fourteen, I've wanted the babies. Four boys to be exact. But since MY dad was such a good daddy, I managed not to do that.
The hubbs was totally not ready for the babies when we first got married. He managed to make me wait--for five years. He had a plan for us to enjoy just the "him and me" and be more financially secure (yada, yada, yada...). Looking back, it was a smart move, but man did I ever want the babies. He did get me a puppy though.
Don't tell him, but I think the hubbs was scared of the whole kiddo thing. He couldn't imagine how good he'd be at it. I knew though. I had a glimpse into that even before we were married.
I have a brother twenty years younger than me--Caleb. He was and is a wonderful surprise. The hubbs and I were dating when my parents announced they were pregnant--he was sitting at the dinner table, shocked with the rest of us. Caleb was supposed to be born on my birthday. He came two months early. Caleb had to stay in the hospital quite a while and all of us would take shifts and go be with him, hold him. It was important that Caleb be held a lot at the hospital. He thrived on the interaction, the touch. Well, on more than a few occasions, the hubbs (when he was still a non-hubbs), would go to the hospital, all by himself and hold Caleb.
Let me just take this up a few notches too and give you a little more info--I wasn't even dating my hubbs when Caleb was born. We were "on a break", just starting to be friends again (which is a miracle and a blog in itself). What does that say? I know, right? Break over.
So, you see, I knew he'd be a great dad. He's the dad that as soon as he walks in the door (after an endless day at work, or traveling from D.C. to Portland, or just a trip to the Home Depot), the volume goes up ten notches and the girls are hanging off of him like monkeys. And he's good with that. Since day one, he has been right there, in it with me. The good and the challenging. The nights of negative sleep. The diapers. The all night ER visits. The Chuck E. Cheese. The dress up. The shrilling. The discipline. The Wiggle concerts. The Candyland. The dance recitals. The whining. The coloring. The princess movies. The bedtimes. The pancakes. The list goes on for miles. For years. Forever.
What was I thinking? Five lines? Totally not enough.
Friday, June 19, 2009
Ooooh, typing with my new french tipped finger nails is so. much. better.
Anyway...I have been waiting for this weekend for weeks. Not because it's Father's Day weekend, not because it's my anniversary coming up, but because it's community garage sale weekend. I know. It's been on my calendar, written in purple, circled and underlined three times, since April. So, what am I doing blogging at 7:54 a.m.? Let me tell you...
My kids are still sleeping. Remember I blogged about this yesterday? Yeah. Shhhh...do not wake those kids up. BUT the big thing is Jazzercise. I'm okay with skipping once in a while (even though I feel like I instantly gain five pounds in the backside region), but yesterday, my 8-year-old jazzercised with me. If you know the girl at all, this is no small thing--it's blog worthy.
She's usually in school when I'm jazzercising, but it's summer and she is officially too big to be in the "baby room". She usually just sits and watches, which is soooo entertaining to an 8-year-old. I've been given the dagger eyes enough to know. So I've been trying to convince her to jazzercise with me (notice I keep spelling out "jazzercise" instead of "exercise"). I encourage, It's just like dance class. You know the grapevine AND kick-ball-chain. But she's my serious, observant child. She has to get comfortable, understand the in's and out's and the what's. And it totally has to be her idea.
She finally watched long enough and decided to give it a go. Her only stipulation was that we had to be in the back row. Which I understood. So I gave a little wave to my sister up in the front, and we headed to the back.
My girl looooved it. She kept up the entire time--well over an hour of it. Cardio. Little weights. Tubes. Exercise ball. Stretching. Everything. She broke out in a little sweat. I loved jazzercising with my girl! It made The Momma proud. We bonded over the water bottle, as she informed me that she couldn't wait to do it again, but next time she wanted to be up front, so she could see better (that's my girl). High fives everywhere.
She talked about it all day yesterday, skillfully drawing just about every conversation back to jazzercising and how much she loved it and couldn't wait to go back. She wants to go twice a day! She wants work out clothes. I'm on this.
The garage sales will just have to wait for me until after class. My girl is busy growing up.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
So far, so good with the summer vacation. We've been enjoying ourselves. I've only heard, "I'm bored," three times. I'd say we've been making good use of the free time--we've been to the park, had the horrible birthday cake (I could blog about the bday cake alone), the hot tub, father's day shopping, Zac Efron movie, and today we all got manicures and pedicures. Though, I really wish my kiddos would learn the value in sleeping in. It's not really vacation until you can really embrace the sleeping in.
Did you see me mention my boyfriend up there? Let me say how much the hubbs just loves me saying "boyfriend" over and over. It's his favorite.
So, yesterday my sisters and my girls and I went to the $2.50 movie and saw 17 Again. We loves the high school movies. Afterwards, I just wanted to go straight from the movie theater to the store and buy it. It was one of those for me. And not just for my boyfriend--it was a really cute movie, with good morals and *everything*. Okay...it was totally for my boyfriend. Not really(why don't you believe me?). Why does that boy have to be so flipping adorable? And what does it say that I didn't get all crazy for Matthew Perry? It says a lot. But it really was a cute movie (I swear). And it had the good laughs. The DVD comes out August 11th You know, in case you were wondering.
And lemme just say, I am all over a $2.50 movie--in an actual theater! Kid tix were $2.00--all day, every day. The movie was shown in a very old school theater, that surprisingly didn't smell 100 years old and my feet managed not to stick on the floor. I still have my flip flops. I do like all the new and sparkly theaters, with the cush seats that rock and the screen that goes for miles, but there is something sweet about the old stuff. As long as it doesn't smell. And you get to keep your flip flops. And you know...not $10 a ticket. I kind of liked the fact that you had to buy your movie candy out of a vending machine too. I mean, that's just unique. The theater had an arcade attached to it--5 cent games. Seriously. How did it take me this long to find this place?!
This just in: As I was typing this out my brother, Josh, texted to tell me that he made tech sergeant select! So I had to share it with the world, cuz this is no small thang! He's been in the air force for under seven years! And the sistah is proud, proud, proud! So I had to brag! And check out the awesome pic of him below too.
Okay, that is all. For now. In a minute. One more thing. It feels so good to be back in blogland. I saw a journal the other day that gave me a good idea. Each page on the journal had only five lines. So each day, you just write five lines of thoughts. It just sounded inspiring to me and I thought...wouldn't that be good for the blog? If I just put it in my head to write five lines of something, I could probably do this every day. Which is my goal--to write every day. So on days that I feel...I got nothin'...I'll just try to write five lines. Well, you'll see how that goes, but it's a nice idea.
All right then, as you were.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Ever wonder about my music selection on my music player? Cuz sometimes I lay in bed at night and wonder if you wonder about that.
I feel like I need to explain, cuz it is ever-changing over here and you might be confused, repulsed, and wanting to understand the WHY IN THE WORLD of why I would choose the songs I do. Granted, I do think I pick some crowd pleasing ones from time to time. But I KNOW some of you are like WOAH, lately. You've gotta be. I understand. Don't worry though, I'll move on to something else before you know it (though it tends to go full circle). It's a complicated thing, the music. I'm a complicated girl (or very, very not complicated). But let me try to explain...
I like to dance. There. I could really just stop right there. But I won't. Do you know me at all? I've got the music in me. It's a gift. I started young with the dance--the ballet, jazz, tap. There might have been some breakin'. And I can clog (but don't you dare tell a soul). I dabbled. It's very rare, that I hear a song and don't have to move a part of my body at some point...even if it's just a slight toe tap. In my head, I'm usually choreographing.
Did I ever tell you that I once had dreams of being a Fly Girl? Remember that show In Living Color? Yeah. For reals. I had big dreams. For a minute I was on dance team, in school too. Though we might've just been called POMS. We had very large pom poms. Dancing was a huge extra-curricular, until I was like 23. It's also why I could live on Snickers bars back in the day and not look like I lived on Snickers bars (true story). And I am jealous--today--that my 26-year-old sister is trying out to be a Blazer dancer next month. I'm her biggest fan, but I'm a little green with the envy. Little bit.
I get a lot of songs from Jazzercise too. I actually pretend I'm a Blazer dancer there. It's totally not exercise, don't even try to tell me, cuz then I wouldn't go.
Does that explain all the hip hop? The bass? There has been a lot of that lately (though that is what Blazer dancers dance to). No? Well, I did my best. Please don't remind me that I am 36. Don't do it.
The rest of it, the songs (the ones without Lil' John screaming in the background)...well, it just has to do with where I am at the moment. I get some good stuff up there. But don't be surprised (you've been warned) if you come over and I have an entire John Denver set list going. Van Halen could totally make the cut. Hey--it could be Wiggles. I'm not even lying, that is so possible. Oooh, oooh, oooh-- church hymns...yes, it could happen. There will, however, be no Garth Brooks. I love country music though, just not that guy.
Just don't let the music keep you from coming. I know it doesn't seem like maybe the music matches the blog at times, but if you get to reading, you'll see that my posts are a lot like the music--ever-changing. You just never know what you're gonna get. And, you can always turn the music player off. But where's the fun in that? (smile)
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
We had about 45 minutes to fill while we waited to hear from him. He had to wait until they were actually boarding the plane, to find out. So the girls and I drove down to a very nearby shopping center and found stuff to do.
This is what you do--you go to Home Goods, a store I've never had the opportunity to visit before, and do really, really good just looking, until you find the ONE aisle that is literally full of things you love. It's amazing how much damage (the spending of the money) you can do in such a short amount of time. I'm really good at it.
Then you go to Best Buy, even though it closed one minute before, but they let you in anyway, and look for a Kevin James (I love that guy!), Sweat the Small Stuff DVD, that you know you won't find, cuz it's impossible to find and for some reason costs a huge chunk of change (huge)--even on Amazon.
Then you leave, empty handed, girls in tow, and move the car so it is facing the right way so you can watch the planes land.
Then you give the camera to your newly six-year-old.
The crossing of the fingers worked...the hubbs got to stay.
Monday, June 15, 2009
I'm not that girly-girl, but once in a while...I am. For instance, I don't wear a lot of perfume, but occasionally, the mood strikes. It struck at Josephine's. I found this brand of perfume, called Tokyo Milk. Wonderful flavors like, I Want Candy, Dead Sexy, Let Them Have Cake, Honey and the Moon, and the one I am especially fond of--Paper & Cotton.
The bottles themselves are like little treats themselves, and how can you not love those names (this should be my job in real life--naming perfume)? But it is the "...fresh sexy blend of coriander, white sage, birch wood and tundra moss" of Paper & Cotton that is the real prize for me. Good things come in little square, glass bottles.
The gentleman (true story) working the store, could see from across the room that I was enjoying myself and in a French accent (which is very strange, but wonderful all at once to hear at the Oregon coast), came over and paused to (sell) share the many delights of Tokyo Milk. Well, the many delights of perfume, really. He gave me a lesson, right then and there. In a French accent. You totally know I bought the perfume in the end, right?
But it was more than the accent. It was more than the fact of how I now know that perfume stays on your body longer versus cologne, because the oils are not diluted with water (thus cologne is less expensive). It was more than what he said about how it makes all the difference in the world where you wear the perfume on your body, given that the scent (vapor) goes up, so you want to wear the perfume say, on your (ahem) inner thighs, your belly, or your chest. Not so much your neck, or even your wrists (as you will surely wash it off in no time). You want it to linger.
I found all of that interesting (when said with a French accent). But what was really fascinating is that when you purchase a perfume, every time you wear it, the scent will take you back to what mood you were in when you purchased it. If you feel depressed or down when you buy it, when you wear it, you'll probably feel exactly that. Even though he could see that I was obviously going to buy perfume from him that day, he advised me not to buy it if I was feeling sad or mad (who me?). On the flip side, if you are feeling silly, happy, sexy, or in love, it will take you right back to that feeling. Kind of like a song. How interesting is that?! Let's just say when I wear it, it will most definitely take me back to a good place.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
The last week has been full, so very full, of things: the end of a school year, a very much practiced for and anticipated dance recital, and a little girl's birthday party. It's been tiring. My kitchen cupboards have been wall papered with Post-It notes for days, directing me where to go. It's been quite fulfilling pulling each note down as I accomplish the penciled in tasks, one by one. Within the chaos, I have been reflecting on the fact that I now have a first and a third grader.
I swear it was only the other day that I was tracing the circumference my swollen belly, feeling for toes and elbows, anticipating labor pains. Watching the endless stream of infomercials while nursing and comforting a restless 3 month old. Feeling like the sun was shining only for me when I heard my daughters say their first sentence, sing their first song. Losing sleep over choosing preschools and how to get my child to eat their vegetables. Knowing I am responsible for this.
It's not that I don't know they still need me. I'm still the mom, after all. The Momma. They are still little--just don't tell them. They are just not really little anymore. That's what getting me right now. The watching of my i-pod wearing, flip flop flopping, sleepover wanting, little "I can DO it!"s become people--real little people, with their own little personalities, opinions, problems, questions, answers, sorrows and joys. Sometimes they teach me stuff. Once in a while, I can see that they have actually been listening to me all along too. That stuff is sinking in. For all of us. I am finding it a wonder and comfort that each stage is most definitely preparing us for the next.