Monday, October 18, 2010
Homecoming 2010
I'm thinking the homecoming party was a hit... hoards of soda and chips, intense foosball matches, movies, xbox, 1:00 a.m. runs to McDonalds, 3:00 a.m. street football, 5:00 a.m. walks to Safeway for more food! It was a successful all nighter topped off with some extreme flipping at Sky High Sports in the morning only to find kids passed out in the office that afternoon - they were sitting in chairs, heads bent over desks or slumped in their seats while attempting to do homework! If nothing else we successfully wore them out.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
What Goes on at Your House at Night?
Be sure to turn up the volume so you can get a little Justin Beiber stuck in your head... only then will you have the full appreciation of what goes on at our house each and every evening!
This Little Lady...
Has wormed her way into the hearts of a group of 6 year old boys! In the midst of Hope’s hourly nightly story where she recounts every minute detail of her day (she is SO different from Riley) she announced that one of her best boy friends wants to marry her… and her other boy friends gathered her to tell her… and I’ll spare you the remaining scene of events because I lost track of the story when it went on for 30+ minutes. However, the mention of marriage brought my focus back into the long story Hope was conveying and Riley and I chuckled at the thought of 6 year olds betrothing themselves.
Later that evening I received a phone call from a mother of one of these boys. My insecurities kicked in and of course I was sure she was about the “discuss” the marriage proposal. Instead I was pleasantly surprised to hear this Mom had a special request from this group of boys to extend a very late invitation to a birthday party – the boys insisted Hope be part of these festivities.
We arrived at the party unaware that Hope would in fact be the only girl among this tight knit group of boys. This group of boys (and Hope) were in kindergarten together and although they are now split between four different classes their friendship remains strong. They eat together, they play together at recess and they apparently weren’t willing to let Hope miss out on this extracurricular activity.
Hope was in her element… batting her eyes, flattering the boys with balloons, leading a game of chase and delighting even parents who marveled at her lack of consciousness that she was the only girl in the room leading the way in a close group of rambunctious boys.
It’s cute… I’m proud of her confidence… I admire her choice of friends… all when she is 6!!!
It’s cute… I’m proud of her confidence… I admire her choice of friends… all when she is 6!!!
Will I think it’s cute when she’s 16??
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
The Proudest Mama...
What started out with a less than endearing night in the ER and resulted in mid-week doctor visits, ultimately produced two of the proudest moments a Mama can ask for. I would be amiss if I didn’t admit that my perpetual tardiness played a here say role in these infamous moments but nonetheless it’s all part of this memory that will always induce horripilation (my new favorite word discovered in an intense bout of Cranium).
I work, I have three kids, a husband, a dog and a household to maintain (where cleanliness and organization that will inevitably never live up to my standards) but regardless, those are all just lame excuses that don’t hide the predictable fact that I am inherently behind schedule… always. I obviously inherited this gene from my grandfather where stories prevail of him running down runways to catch a flight in the midst of a departure in motion. My mother was scarred by those memories to the point of showing up twelve hours prior to a flight to this very day but I tend to lean more toward my grandfather’s laissez faire attitude of arriving with seconds to spare or even occasionally just moments too late and I do not restrict this behavior to only include airline flights. I am fashionably late for everything!
So, it should come as no surprise when I arrived at Riley’s football game three weeks ago, predictably missing the first few minutes of the game, to find his hand bandaged. I questioned my vision and retraced the previous day - had I forgotten about an nagging injury (yes, there are always football injuries and you learn to ignore them unless they demand immediate medical attention). Sure enough, I watched Riley sit on the sidelines for the remainder of the game only to find out he hurt his thumb in the first few minutes of the game. The pain was enough to warrant a trip to the ER upon completion of the game, where a bad sprain was diagnosed, a split was secured and rest was prescribed, including a week or two of NO football. It should be noted here that should you ever have to sit in a 4 by 4 room with an adolescent boy who just completed a football game you should be given an honor for not violently throwing up from the stench! Riley cleared the waiting room and had nurses checking MY vitals declaring they could smell the “football” on him a mile away – yet they locked me in a room with him while they took their sweet time attending to people with heart attacks and strokes all while I was experiencing of my own life threatening condition of aspirating on my own vomit which I suppressed to avoid embarrassment by all. Eventually we were released with strict orders to “baby his hand” and take a long, hot shower. I took my long, hot shower in the form of a big glass of cabernet.
Come Monday Riley has had enough of sitting out of practice and insists on securing a release to once again play football. I set up an appointment with the nurse practitioner erroneously believing she will be naïve enough to grant us a release simply based on our request. She lectures, she offers physical therapy options, she stressed the potential impact of a reinjury, she tried on 20 different splits, for nearly an hour which causes me to be late once again (this time I don’t assume the blame for my tardiness – I wholeheartedly threw this office under the bus) but in the end we secured Riley’s release to play by promising that his trainer would tape up his thumb forever and always. I’ll admit, her lecture did make me reconsider my decision to abide by a teenage whim depicting when to “back-burner” an injury but my questioning was short-lived.
I arrived at the game on Thursday (yes, a few minutes late – seriously, Riley got hurt one time when I was a few minutes late, that’s a once in a lifetime event, right?) only to have another father approach me, pointing at me saying “can you believe your son”? Oh great, he hurt his thumb again I immediately wonder… I knew I shouldn’t have let him play! This dad obviously saw the look of confusion on my face and said “Oh no! You did NOT just miss his touchdown??” His TOUCHDOWN – are you flipping kidding me? He plays defense – he can’t get a touchdown!! He proceeds to describe to me the “greatest touchdown ever” where Riley was so determined, he picked up a fumble, immediately had three guys hanging off him and he drove for 6 or 7 feet before he went down reaching the football over the end zone to secure the 6 points. The most amazing touchdown ever and I missed it! I didn’t care – I could see it all happen in my mind. I probably would have cried had I actually seen it – how embarrassing that would have been for all. Riley got his five minutes of fame and he didn’t disappoint. Parents were commenting, kids were all over it on facebook. I emailed everyone I knew. Uncle Warren even called his Mom. Riley got a touchdown!!!
Riley can recall very little about his famous touchdown despite my repeated requests to have him replay the scene again and again. Many defensive linemen never see (or seize) an opportunity like this but Riley saw the loose ball and wasn’t letting anything or anyone get in the way. He was going to make these five minutes of fame worth the memory. What Riley remembers most is the surreal feeling. In that mellow manner so befitting of Riley he nonchalantly tells me “I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t believe it. I wondered if it really happened. I was like… did I really just get a touchdown?” I have to hide my tears of pride every time I torture him with a replay. The novelty of this famous touchdown may have worn off with Riley (which just proves that I take more pride in this accomplishment than he does) but don’t you think every lineman dreams about this exact same scenario where of course, they themselves play the leading role? Riley owns his own version of this story now, one where he is the star – although it’s a story I will probably retell way more times than he ever will.
For those of you who are hoping that the moral of this story is that I have learned to be punctual I’m afraid to admit you’ll be most disappointed. Riley got a safety the very next game – two more points, again during the first few moments before I had yet to make my fashionably late appearance. He’s racking up the points so I don’t want to mess with a good thing? He’s on a roll, why jinx it? So, I’ll keep showing up late, you know, just in case… (not that I could consistently be punctual if I tried – remember, this is an inherited gene – it’s something I was born with!)
I’m the Proudest Mama… even if I’m rarely on time to catch all the action.
I work, I have three kids, a husband, a dog and a household to maintain (where cleanliness and organization that will inevitably never live up to my standards) but regardless, those are all just lame excuses that don’t hide the predictable fact that I am inherently behind schedule… always. I obviously inherited this gene from my grandfather where stories prevail of him running down runways to catch a flight in the midst of a departure in motion. My mother was scarred by those memories to the point of showing up twelve hours prior to a flight to this very day but I tend to lean more toward my grandfather’s laissez faire attitude of arriving with seconds to spare or even occasionally just moments too late and I do not restrict this behavior to only include airline flights. I am fashionably late for everything!
So, it should come as no surprise when I arrived at Riley’s football game three weeks ago, predictably missing the first few minutes of the game, to find his hand bandaged. I questioned my vision and retraced the previous day - had I forgotten about an nagging injury (yes, there are always football injuries and you learn to ignore them unless they demand immediate medical attention). Sure enough, I watched Riley sit on the sidelines for the remainder of the game only to find out he hurt his thumb in the first few minutes of the game. The pain was enough to warrant a trip to the ER upon completion of the game, where a bad sprain was diagnosed, a split was secured and rest was prescribed, including a week or two of NO football. It should be noted here that should you ever have to sit in a 4 by 4 room with an adolescent boy who just completed a football game you should be given an honor for not violently throwing up from the stench! Riley cleared the waiting room and had nurses checking MY vitals declaring they could smell the “football” on him a mile away – yet they locked me in a room with him while they took their sweet time attending to people with heart attacks and strokes all while I was experiencing of my own life threatening condition of aspirating on my own vomit which I suppressed to avoid embarrassment by all. Eventually we were released with strict orders to “baby his hand” and take a long, hot shower. I took my long, hot shower in the form of a big glass of cabernet.
Come Monday Riley has had enough of sitting out of practice and insists on securing a release to once again play football. I set up an appointment with the nurse practitioner erroneously believing she will be naïve enough to grant us a release simply based on our request. She lectures, she offers physical therapy options, she stressed the potential impact of a reinjury, she tried on 20 different splits, for nearly an hour which causes me to be late once again (this time I don’t assume the blame for my tardiness – I wholeheartedly threw this office under the bus) but in the end we secured Riley’s release to play by promising that his trainer would tape up his thumb forever and always. I’ll admit, her lecture did make me reconsider my decision to abide by a teenage whim depicting when to “back-burner” an injury but my questioning was short-lived.
I arrived at the game on Thursday (yes, a few minutes late – seriously, Riley got hurt one time when I was a few minutes late, that’s a once in a lifetime event, right?) only to have another father approach me, pointing at me saying “can you believe your son”? Oh great, he hurt his thumb again I immediately wonder… I knew I shouldn’t have let him play! This dad obviously saw the look of confusion on my face and said “Oh no! You did NOT just miss his touchdown??” His TOUCHDOWN – are you flipping kidding me? He plays defense – he can’t get a touchdown!! He proceeds to describe to me the “greatest touchdown ever” where Riley was so determined, he picked up a fumble, immediately had three guys hanging off him and he drove for 6 or 7 feet before he went down reaching the football over the end zone to secure the 6 points. The most amazing touchdown ever and I missed it! I didn’t care – I could see it all happen in my mind. I probably would have cried had I actually seen it – how embarrassing that would have been for all. Riley got his five minutes of fame and he didn’t disappoint. Parents were commenting, kids were all over it on facebook. I emailed everyone I knew. Uncle Warren even called his Mom. Riley got a touchdown!!!
Riley can recall very little about his famous touchdown despite my repeated requests to have him replay the scene again and again. Many defensive linemen never see (or seize) an opportunity like this but Riley saw the loose ball and wasn’t letting anything or anyone get in the way. He was going to make these five minutes of fame worth the memory. What Riley remembers most is the surreal feeling. In that mellow manner so befitting of Riley he nonchalantly tells me “I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t believe it. I wondered if it really happened. I was like… did I really just get a touchdown?” I have to hide my tears of pride every time I torture him with a replay. The novelty of this famous touchdown may have worn off with Riley (which just proves that I take more pride in this accomplishment than he does) but don’t you think every lineman dreams about this exact same scenario where of course, they themselves play the leading role? Riley owns his own version of this story now, one where he is the star – although it’s a story I will probably retell way more times than he ever will.
For those of you who are hoping that the moral of this story is that I have learned to be punctual I’m afraid to admit you’ll be most disappointed. Riley got a safety the very next game – two more points, again during the first few moments before I had yet to make my fashionably late appearance. He’s racking up the points so I don’t want to mess with a good thing? He’s on a roll, why jinx it? So, I’ll keep showing up late, you know, just in case… (not that I could consistently be punctual if I tried – remember, this is an inherited gene – it’s something I was born with!)
I’m the Proudest Mama… even if I’m rarely on time to catch all the action.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
My Life as a Rock Star
This rock star retired??? Never!!! I haven’t retired from super stardom nor have I retired from blogging; although I will admit my rock star lifestyle took precedence over my blogging while I took a much deserved break from reality… but my super star weeks were lived in style and allotted me a million amazing memories that I deeply desire to document so they can forever remain in my heart and be periodically revisited so that I may vicariously relive these magical moments. From parties to beaches, adult only vacations, kids occasionally along for the ride and girls weekends… way too much for one really long blog! So I will meander through these weeks in a series - one story to tell at a time in hopes of softening my reentry into reality as I reminisce. Soon I shall contemplate my life as a rock star for you all… here is a sneak preview:
Lots and lots of delectable wine...
Good friends...
Good friends...
Dance parties...
A lot of kids all in one place...
even the occasional beer
Sunday, June 27, 2010
The Life of a Super Star
One year of practice, three dress rehearsals and finally three chances to shine... all in one week we watched (with genuine pride) Hope tip toe her way through ballet:
... show off her jazzy side:
... and shine in her world of hip hop:
From princess to bad ass - one year in the making was well worth the memories!
Back on a High Note
Quite recently I sat around in the quiet of each evening just wondering and waiting. Life seemed to be on hold. Laundry was only washed out of dire necessity. Meals were prepared only when the troops refused leftovers or take out. My mind was overwhelmed with the unknown, hindering my ability to produce a publishable blog entry. Boxes sat stacked in my garage as a constant reminder of my interim state of mind. I couldn’t quite live life in a house that was perfectly prepped to sale but I also couldn’t allow myself to prep for a potential move out of genuine fear of setting false expectations. I was protecting myself from disappointment by refusing to live in the present and inadequately preparing for the future. The highs and lows of life somehow seemed to sidestep me while I secluded myself in the waiting game.
But life has resumed and we’re making up for lost time. The highs and lows that often resemble chaos in my life are abundant once more. I was spurred back into action only when every last “I” was dotted and every last “T” was crossed on the sale of our first home and on the purchase of our new house.
With only a few days to pack our overabundant belongings were thrown into boxes (without using one shred of newspaper, mind you). Through the help of my gracious family and my dear friend Elizabeth we made the move from one garage to another.
My generous Mother made the trek to Portland and with the help of my recently relocated sister Barb they kept watch on my children and scrubbed and organized my new kitchen while I immediately departed for an East Coast training tour. (Truth be told, we briefly lost our youngest babe for a few moments but he was safely returned without a scratch, although our hearts will forever be scarred by the memory of his momentary escape). While my Mom trailed my kids constantly to ensure their safety in my absence she still managed to disinfect and arrange my new kitchen. Dad left me with the nicest surprise as they left town – a freshly vacuumed house upon my arrival home after a busy day at work. Vacuuming my home is no small feat – there’s a lot of carpet in this new house! I will forever be grateful to my family for their unwavering support when I needed them most.
My last surviving Grandfather passed away only hours before I left for Boston leaving me with unattended emotions as I boarded a plane in the wee hours of the morning. My busy career and my chaotic life that so abruptly resumed averted my necessary grieving and hindered my ability to support my Father as he so gracefully accepted the passing of the first of his parents. I may forever feel guilty for losing my focus on family.
One truly talented and amazing little girl turned six years old and lost her first tooth shortly after my return from the East Coast. And my incredibly supportive family stepped up to the plate when I was preoccupied with life and arranged a fabulous birthday party for Hope, complete with diet friendly food for all, gifts of plenty to cover up my lack thereof, a delicious princess birthday cake from a delectable bakery and party favors overflowing in gift bags to entertain and occupy our rambunctious children. Maybe someday I’ll be able to repay your generosity.
I unpacked the last of the boxes in my new home just in time to watch Barb and Daryl move into their new residence, a mere mile down the road from me. The idea of having a sister close enough to arrive unannounced has already proved its worthiness. On the verge of unforeseen tragedy I called on my sister Barb who dropped everything to make a late night trip to the 24 hour emergency veterinary clinic to hold my hand and offer support as I made that final call to put our ornery Ariel to sleep. Despite the fact that Ariel was 17 years old and drove us all crazy I suddenly experienced some seriously unanticipated sorrow when Ariel came home injured. My heart was in pieces when I saw her in pain and I was simply not prepared to say my final goodbyes. Barb held me and up and wiped away my tears on that late night as we felt Ariel purr one last time. We recounted our many memories of Ariel along with all our pets that left this world long before this fateful day.
How thankful I am for all of my family. It seems as though I’ve been closing a few chapters in my life lately but I’m writing many, many more – as the old saying goes, “when one door closes another one opens” and I’m just happy to back living life one again – even if it full of highs as well as lows.
But life has resumed and we’re making up for lost time. The highs and lows that often resemble chaos in my life are abundant once more. I was spurred back into action only when every last “I” was dotted and every last “T” was crossed on the sale of our first home and on the purchase of our new house.
With only a few days to pack our overabundant belongings were thrown into boxes (without using one shred of newspaper, mind you). Through the help of my gracious family and my dear friend Elizabeth we made the move from one garage to another.
My generous Mother made the trek to Portland and with the help of my recently relocated sister Barb they kept watch on my children and scrubbed and organized my new kitchen while I immediately departed for an East Coast training tour. (Truth be told, we briefly lost our youngest babe for a few moments but he was safely returned without a scratch, although our hearts will forever be scarred by the memory of his momentary escape). While my Mom trailed my kids constantly to ensure their safety in my absence she still managed to disinfect and arrange my new kitchen. Dad left me with the nicest surprise as they left town – a freshly vacuumed house upon my arrival home after a busy day at work. Vacuuming my home is no small feat – there’s a lot of carpet in this new house! I will forever be grateful to my family for their unwavering support when I needed them most.
My last surviving Grandfather passed away only hours before I left for Boston leaving me with unattended emotions as I boarded a plane in the wee hours of the morning. My busy career and my chaotic life that so abruptly resumed averted my necessary grieving and hindered my ability to support my Father as he so gracefully accepted the passing of the first of his parents. I may forever feel guilty for losing my focus on family.
One truly talented and amazing little girl turned six years old and lost her first tooth shortly after my return from the East Coast. And my incredibly supportive family stepped up to the plate when I was preoccupied with life and arranged a fabulous birthday party for Hope, complete with diet friendly food for all, gifts of plenty to cover up my lack thereof, a delicious princess birthday cake from a delectable bakery and party favors overflowing in gift bags to entertain and occupy our rambunctious children. Maybe someday I’ll be able to repay your generosity.
I unpacked the last of the boxes in my new home just in time to watch Barb and Daryl move into their new residence, a mere mile down the road from me. The idea of having a sister close enough to arrive unannounced has already proved its worthiness. On the verge of unforeseen tragedy I called on my sister Barb who dropped everything to make a late night trip to the 24 hour emergency veterinary clinic to hold my hand and offer support as I made that final call to put our ornery Ariel to sleep. Despite the fact that Ariel was 17 years old and drove us all crazy I suddenly experienced some seriously unanticipated sorrow when Ariel came home injured. My heart was in pieces when I saw her in pain and I was simply not prepared to say my final goodbyes. Barb held me and up and wiped away my tears on that late night as we felt Ariel purr one last time. We recounted our many memories of Ariel along with all our pets that left this world long before this fateful day.
How thankful I am for all of my family. It seems as though I’ve been closing a few chapters in my life lately but I’m writing many, many more – as the old saying goes, “when one door closes another one opens” and I’m just happy to back living life one again – even if it full of highs as well as lows.
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