Hello, Winter, It’s….Nice to See You?

Woke up to a light skiff of snow this morning which was a slightly more pleasant discovery than the pile of dog puke that awaited me on the throw rug by the back door but, only slightly.

I’m just not ready for freezing temperatures, shoveling snow and arguing with my son over whether or not he should wear a hat when shooting baskets outdoors (he should). I am, however, ready to break out my cute snow boots but, only because they are really, really cute and because they go so nicely with my wool pea coat and the jaunty little beret that I purchased on clearance at Old Navy last spring, otherwise, yeah; not ready to dance with Old Man Winter.

Something else I’m not quite ready for? Cooking dinner for The Teenager’s boyfriend “special friend”, AKA, The Crush but, that’s exactly what I’m doing tonight. On the one hand, it will be a nice chance for us all to get to know each other better. On the other hand, Hugh will have to fight the temptation to practice his intimidation skills and I’m expecting a conversation peppered with vague threats featuring the words shotgun and shovel to feature on the menu.

Oh, and spaghetti, one of the few foods The Teenager has deemed non-embarrassing to eat in front of company.

So, yes, I’m hosting winter and The Crush this evening; fingers crossed that the dog doesn’t feel the need to do a repeat performance of the exorcist on my carpets because; a girl can only take so much and, The Teenager would be mortified.

Well, It Was Nice While It Lasted

Last night The Teenager and I attended an informational meeting for an elite traveling volleyball club that she is interested in trying out for; I have no reason to believe that she won’t make the team.

Today, I registered the Man-Cub for basketball, a sport that he has never played competitively but that he has decided to try his hand at; I have no reason to believe that he won’t be great at it.

I'm grateful for my kids' athletic ability and for having the means to support them as they strive to reach their goals.

Both kids will start practicing in December with weekly tournaments to follow right up until The Teenager starts spring track and the Cub starts wrestling so; I’m also really grateful that Hugh and I invested in the good stadium seats from the Booster Club as bleacher butt is sooo unattractive.

So, we are going to be getting really busy, again. That's ok, I didn’t need all this free time, anyway. Really, relaxation is so overrated.

Le sigh.

Earlier and Earlier and Earlier

Remember when you were a kid and it seemed like the time between Halloween and Thanksgiving lasted forever? And, then, the time between Thanksgiving and Christmas seemed to just drag on and on and on? Yeah. I miss those days.

As it stands, now, there is no downtime between Halloween and Christmas, we simply blow the candle out in the last jack-o-lantern and start hanging the holly and the ivy. This is especially true when one is involved in the retail trade as I have learned since joining Hugh at the hardware store.

For example, I put the finishing touches on our holiday window display today and, while I’m quite proud of the work I did and I really love the finished product, I am concerned about running into Holiday Burn-Out. My parents are joining us for Christmas this year and I really don’t want to be completely jaded and Scrooge-like by the time they arrive, rather; I want to be jolly and relaxed and to provide everyone with a picture-perfect holiday.

To that end, I have informed my store manager that we will, no matter what it takes; finish decking the store halls by the beginning of next week. That way, I can take a break from decorating until Thanksgiving when I will start on my home decorations. This seems like a reasonable plan and the best possible way to avoid having my head spin right off my body.

In theory.

In actuality, my head will spin off right around this time next week, anyway.

There’s No Going Back Now

I just reserved my fresh Thanksgiving turkey from a local turkey farmer, an actual turkey farmer! Rancher? Grower? I have no idea. I also have no idea what form a fresh turkey arrives in from the turkey farmer/rancher/grower but, am really hoping it doesn’t involve the need for me to chop off any vital body parts, such as a head. I never would have imagined such a possibility had it not been suggested by the Man-Cub who, on a totally unrelated topic, has his very first pimple.

This latest development seems to have left him, in equal parts, proud and embarrassed and is obviously quite a big deal to the Cub. In fact, he seemed genuinely nonplussed when he asked me when I had gotten my first pimple and I could not recall; the offhand comment I made about my mother neglecting to note the date in my baby book being far less well-received than one might hope. Pre-teens, so prickly.

Also prickly? Turkey feathers. Which I just pictured arriving, intact, on my Thanksgiving bird. That doesn’t happen, right? Farm-fresh turkeys still arrive at your home naked, headless and with their innards in a nice little baggie, right?

Please, someone, tell me I’m right. All this stressing is likely to cause me to break out in pimples of my own and, should that happen, I would be decidedly less proud than the Cub, I assure you.

TGIF

If there was ever a thing to be grateful for, it is the fact that today is Friday. I have had an exhausting week which makes no sense to me whatsoever considering the fact that my children no longer require my presence at sporting events; where does my time go?

Speaking of my children, I am proud to report that they both made the school honor roll. Bumper stickers are on order although, The Teenager has threatened to disavow any knowledge of a relationship between us should I actually display said bumper sticker on my car.

She may change her mind as I have assured her that the alternative involves me displaying said bumper sticker on poster board while walking a circuit in front of her school, picket-line fashion, while wearing a t-shirt bearing her photo and the words PROUD MAMA OF THE TEENAGER!

On a totally unrelated topic, I think I heard her weeping in her sleep last night; can’t imagine what could have given her nightmares. Huh.

Anyway, it’s Friday. Tomorrow I get to sleep in and, while getting a mere additional hour of sleep constitutes sleeping in for me; I am really looking forward to it.

Then, I am attending a brunch hosted by one of the women in my woman’s club; we will be working on holiday decorations for our upcoming fundraiser and, experience has taught us that it is always more productive to work on these things in a group as we seem to be more creative, the work gets done faster and, we brainstorm ideas for the next event.

Bloody Marys and Mimosas may be to blame. Or, to credit, either way.

Sunday, I am planning to clean the house from top to bottom. It is my month to host Book Club and I don’t really want my guests to leave my home wearing cat and dog hair on their asses which, is bound to happen if I don’t vacuum my couches. Thank goodness for my new vacuum cleaner; it sucks like a two dollar whore.

As an aside, how well does a two dollar whore really suck? Would a four dollar whore suck twice as hard? I really don’t understand that analogy at all.

Oh well! TGIF!

Gratitude

November is the month in which we express our gratitude for the blessings bestowed upon us and I have decided to spend the month naming at least one thing for which I am grateful each day. Today, I am grateful for the gorgeous weather we are having. I cannot remember another autumn this warm or colorful and I am especially grateful for it given the crappy spring weather we had earlier in the year and the windy summer to which we were subjected.

Granted, the nice weather can’t last and winter is bound to rear its’ frigid head sooner rather than later but, for now; I shall enjoy the warmth of the sun on my face as I stroll amongst the brittle leaves as they fall gently from the trees, grateful for each step.

How to Put a Major Cramp in Your Daughter’s Lovelife

So, The Teenager has a new crush. I say crush because, while the object of her affection appears to return her feelings of adoration , I am loathe to call him her boyfriend considering the fact that he is sixteen and a junior in High School.

What's that you say? She’s almost fifteen and she’s a freshman in High School, so what’s the big deal? Well, I’ll tell you what the big deal is; two years age difference, a driver’s license, and he’s a boy, that’s what.

Excuse me while I breath into a paper bag for just a minute....

So, yeah; The Teenager is crushing on a junior whom we will not allow her to date until such time as: she, herself, is sixteen, also has a driver’s license (although, no car), has successfully completed her father’s course on self defense and has been fitted for a regulation chastity belt.

That’s really not asking so much, now, is it?

In the meantime, because we recognize her need for some semblance of a social life, The Teenager will be allowed to spend time in the company of The Crush under very controlled circumstances. Namely, her brother will accompany her.

This worked out really well for us on Halloween; The Teenager was allowed to wander about town with The Crush and a group of their mutual friends as long as the Man-Cub was with her. This was win-win for all of us; The Teenager got to spend time with The Crush, the Cub got to trick-or-treat, I got to stay home to hand out candy to the various ghosts, ghouls and goblins who visited our front porch and Hugh got to cruise around in the squad car, shining the spotlight on The Teenager’s group at random intervals throughout the evening.

Who could ask for a better compromise?

If you just said The Teenager, you win a cookie.

Apparently, having one’s younger brother along on a faux-date constitutes a major buzz-kill; probably because said younger brother spent a large portion of the evening walking between the teenagers, reminding the teenagers of his parent’s strict hands-off policy and saying snip, snip to The Crush while making scissor motions with his fingers all of which killed whatever mood The Teenager was hoping for.

Who would have guessed that would happen?

Oh, that’s right, we did, see above: title of this post.

But, seriously, can you blame us?