Balloons to Heaven

Yesterday’s fundraiser went better than expected given the fact that we woke to a most nasty wind. We were worried that the weather would keep people away from the fifth and sixth grade boys’ football game where we intended to hold a hamburger fry and bake sale but the people in our community are a hardier lot than I would have imagined and they showed up en masse.

Following the game, the principal of the elementary school gave a fabulously warm speech about Brandon and his teammates then presented his mother with his jersey and a plaque explaining that the jersey was being officially retired from the school program.

The committee who planned the fundraiser had asked The Girl if she would then present Brandon’s mom with a scrapbook that the kids have been working on in their grief class and The Girl was honored to do so. She got through it a lot better than I thought she would, too.

After the presentations, we launched over a hundred balloons and, for just that brief amount of time, the wind settled down.

The parents, grandparents, teachers and friends of the football boys made for a decent lunch crowd and, as luck would have it, two high school teams from communities on opposite ends of our side of the state met on our field for their league game. This brought even more parents, etc. and we grilled burgers for three hours, making enough money to fund this year’s scholarship in Brandon’s name.

I’m so proud to be part of this community.

I’m proud of my daughter.

I’m proud of my husband who stood in winds up to thirty-miles per hour, cooking hamburgers with a smile on his face (he has a lot less hair on his arms, from being singed by the flames but, he never much cared for hairy arms, anyway).

It was a good day.

Things at Random

-While the Man-Cub practiced football last night, I ran a mile around the high school track. And, no, nothing was chasing me; I simply felt the urge to run. In the future, when I feel that urge, I will instead beat my legs with a baseball bat; swinging the bat will require less energy and the resulting soreness will pale in comparison to that which I am feeling today.

-Each of the children has a friend spending the night, tonight. This is not an infrequent occurrence in our home and I actually enjoy wrangling four children at a time. In fact, when Hugh and I were planning our family; I initially wanted four children. Hugh did not and, our finances at the time supported his position so, we stopped at two. Now, Hugh likes to point out that, had we actually had four children, we would most likely spend the majority of our time entertaining eight children, total. Even I must concede that that would be more than I could handle. Plus, I would have to get a mini-van which, no.

-While the kids enjoy the companionship of their friends, I will be in the kitchen; baking twelve dozen cookies for a bake-sale that we are having tomorrow to raise funds for a memorial scholarship in Brandon’s name.

-The chance of me not eating at least one dozen of those cookies is equal to that of me running a mile again anytime soon. That would be zero.

-I am craving bagels with cream-cheese. I do not know why. I am also craving pomegranates but refuse to pay almost three bucks for one fruit.

-It has been ten weeks since my last haircut. I tell everyone that I am growing it out but in reality, I have been too lazy to make an appointment for a cut. I’m pretty sure that’s how Cousin It was born.

-Speaking of Cousin It, I’m getting excited for Halloween. The kids already know what they want to be and I’m toying with the idea of making costumes for Hugh and myself-Gomez and Morticia Adams costumes, to be exact. I'll be Morticia, in case you were confused.

-Hugh already started planning his Halloween decorations for the front porch; he purchased an animatronic man who lifts his own head off at the neck. It’s really hard to describe but totally cool.

-Back in the days when Hugh and I were first married; the aquatics facility that I worked for hosted a haunted house each Halloween as a scholarship fundraiser for the City’s different athletic programs. I was responsible for the design of the house as well as for purchasing the materials, props and costumes and over-seeing the two-day event. My staff, made up mostly of teenagers, provided its skill as “horror thespians” and, the kids were most talented. One year they were so successful in their mad Scare Skilz, they made a teenage girl pee her pants. That is the epitome of haunted house success right there.

-There is a pink frosted donut in the break room and it is calling my name. I’m going to answer that call and make that donut wish it had kept its hole shut. I ran a mile last night, I earned that donut.

Another Sure Sign of the Season

If the aspen tree in my front yard turning bright yellow over the past several days wasn’t enough to signal the return of autumn; this week’s return of prime time television programming certainly sealed the deal.

I actually think I might stick with a few of the new shows, Kid Nation, for example. Once you get past the initial premise of the show which is basically the abandonment of forty kids in the New Mexico dessert, it’s really quite enjoyable. Plus, I can watch it with my kids and I get a huge kick out of comparing notes on the cast with The Girl. For the record, Greg, the fifteen year old who can both kill chickens and lay out a perfect water-line, reminds us both of my nephew, The Rebel Without a Pause which, gives us the Warm Fuzzies.

Note to Greg, you better not turn into a surly ass over that stupid gold star; do not throw away the Warm Fuzzies for $20,000, man!

Ahem.

Then, last night, I watched the series premiere of Bionic Woman. Not THE Bionic Woman, since she isn’t the only bionic woman on the show (Spoiler! Sorry!), but, whatever. It was meh. I might try to stick with it or I might not. I guess it all depends on whether or not they bring back Max, the bionic dog. Now that show, I would watch.

I’m pretty sure I will continue watching Journeyman, however. I will admit, at first, I thought it was going to be a big rip-off of The Time Traveler's Wife, which I loved, loved, loved and; I wasn’t interested in seeing it. But! At work this morning, I got bored so I watched the premiere online and, I like it. I really like it. Of course, it will take a while for me to get over seeing Lucius Vorenus without his toga but, I’ll get there.

I am planning to watch the premiere of Moonlight tomorrow night. I typically enjoy vampire shows and, since there is nothing else to watch on Friday nights, I hope I’ll like it.

Of course, I’m also anticipating the return of my favorite old shows; Grey’s Anatomy, CSI (The Girl is dying to find out if Sara Sidle kicks the bucket tonight. I’m secretly hoping she does), Desperate Housewives and Battlestar Galactica (which, why the wait? Where for art thou, Battlestar Galactica? Oh! You’re waiting for Jamie Summers to kick Starbuck’s ass, well, let’s get with it Bionic Woman!).

While I’m at it; I should probably admit that I also plan to watch this season of Survivor solely for the purpose of seeing which happens first; the chick from the WWE getting voted off or her bottom lip falling off due to her lip rings getting infected. Either of which would be perfectly acceptable.

All of which means that; I may need a hobby other than television.

Nah!

Also, if I'm missing anything terrific, do please feel free to share.

I’m Listening…Wait, What?

I met a very nice woman at the Man-Cub’s football practice yesterday. Her family is new to town and she hasn’t met very many people yet so; I’m thinking of inviting her and her son to join Jana, the kids and me when we start our annual fall activities. That way, we can corrupt her before the Mean Mom clique gets a hold of her.

Yes, we have a Mean Mom clique, doesn’t every small town?

Speaking of cliques; I have been a terrible member of my woman’s club lately. I have missed more meetings than I have attended and I’m feeling a bit guilty about it. Not guilty enough to volunteer for the annual highway clean-up project next weekend, but guilty enough to attend today’s meeting. Although, looking at the agenda; it appears the District Governor will be speaking so; maybe I would rather clean up trash along the highway, after all.

Nothing against the Governor (doesn't that word just cry out to be said in an English accent? 'allo govnah! No? Just me then?), it’s just that, lately, I have been restless and I seem to be having trouble sitting still and focusing on an activity for any length of time. Also, I have noticed that I’m not pulling my weight in conversations, tending instead to zone out and go shopping for lipstick in my head (did you know that orange is one of the season's hottest colors? What is up with that?). I probably have Adult Attention Deficit Disorder. Or, you know; I’m preoccupied with other thoughts. Either way, it’s annoying.

You know, to the people around me.

I’m not annoyed by it at all; plus, I’m certain that it will prove to be a temporary condition. And, if not; that’s ok, too. I have no problem embracing my inner ditz. She's purty, she would never wear orange lipstick. Why would anyone buy orange lipstick? I mean, does that color look good on anyone?

Wait, what was I saying?

A Cub Is Born

Sooo…what was I doing on this day nine years ago? Well, right now I would have been wrestling the Girl (Baby Girl, at the time) into her car seat for the trip to my gynecologist’s office for my weekly check-up. I was a week away from my due date but had been dilated to five cm. at my appointment the previous week so; I was hoping for a report of additional progress.

And, as hoped, there had been progress; I was dilated to a six and was instructed by my doctor to head to the hospital where my water would be broken in an effort to get things moving.
My friend, Jules, came to watch the Girl for us while Hugh, my mother and I made the three-block trip to the hospital.

I was admitted and shown to one of the newly remodeled birthing suites where I drooled with envy over the beautiful hardwood floors; floors that would not be quite so beautiful once I got finished with them.

Spoiler!

Hugh called Emily, who promised to drop what she was doing to make the two and a half hour trip at which point I grabbed a nurse who was passing by and begged her make haste with the crochet hook; time was of the essence!

I wanted to get that ball rolling, if you get my drift.

My doctor arrived about an hour later, the crochet hook was duly inserted I felt a distinctive pop and….

I proceeded to drench the doctor, the bed, the assisting nurse, a wall seven feet away and, to my horror, the beautiful hardwood floors, in about two gallons of amniotic fluid. My doctor eyed me and deadpanned “Did I forget to mention that I already HAD a shower, today?” Completely horrifying.

Well, almost.

Two or so hours later, after the bed had been changed, the floors mopped and the doctor dressed in dry scrubs; I shifted on the bed during a routing cervical check and another huge gush of water came bursting forth, soaking the bed, the doctor, the nurse and, of course, the hardwood floors. At the precise moment, that Emily walked in.

Horror. Complete.

Cue the contractions. Considering the horrible epidural experience that I had with the Girl; I had chosen to forgo pain medication so, the contractions were, well, painful. But, ultimately productive and, in no time at all I was due for another cervical check, before which; my doctor inquired as to whether or not she should try to find a snorkel before “going in”.

Hugh swears, to this day, that I actually gave the thought some consideration. I don’t remember that, though because, in the next minute, she was “in” and she said something that made my heart stop.

“What the?!....”

I don’t know about you but, when a professional goes into a place that is supposed to be her area of expertise and says “what the?!...”, I tend to lose a little confidence in her skills. And, you know, panic.

In fact, if I recall correctly; I sat bolt upright and said something like “What the WHAT?!!! What?! What IS it?! Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod!”

Or, something like that.

“Whew! Nothing to worry about! It’s just a hand!”

Right. Because everyone knows that babies CRAWL out of the womb (and it’s a damn good thing that movie, The Ring, had not yet come out because that freaky kid creeping out of the TV would have been the FIRST thing to enter my mind, fucking Japanese film makers and their freaky long haired crawling kids) .

Anyyywaaay…nothing to worry about, la dee da, de, da.

And, of course, she was right, everything came out just fine (pardon the pun). The Man-Cub was born hand-first despite some righteously aggressive “intra-uterine manipulation” by the doctor- a procedure, I might add- that I had seen performed once before, by my brother-in-law.

Granted, that time it was done on a cow and, I do distinctly remember hoping that the doctor had paid close attention to her elbows when she scrubbed up, earlier.

Good times.

And, good outcome. The Man-Cub was a dream come true. I had secretly hoped for a boy and I have thanked God everyday since that we got the boy that we did. He lights up my life on a daily basis and I am enjoying every moment of watching him grow up.

I just wish he wasn’t doing it quite so fast*.

Happy Birthday, Man-Cub!

*Seriously, where did my baby go? Where are the chubby cheeks , the screw-on hands and the rollly-polly thighs? He's like, all angles and long legs and shit. That just ain't right.

If Pictures of Kids' Birthday Parties Annoy You, Move Along

Day Two of Birthday Footballapalooza was a giant success. I can tell because, I am exhausted.

Pictures with a minimum of exposition will have to take the place of my usual witty repartee, see above; exhausted.

The cake. Fashioned to look like a football stadium filled to the brim with spectators; Bronco fans, according to the Man-Cub. Gah. Also, football shaped ice cream. Becasue I am insane, obviously.

Hugh preparing the field for the touch-football game. Say what you will about him but; how many dads do you know who will spray-paint their lawn for their child’s enjoyment? Without huffing the fumes.

The football hero sandwich. Just because I am so freaking proud of the fact that I baked a loaf of bread shaped like a football. And I don’t even like football.

Requisite photos of the actual football game, because it just wouldn't be a football party without a football game, donchaknow.

And, the throw-the-ball-through-the-hoop contest. First Prize, a poster of the Denver Broncos, thank god the Man-Cub lost that particular contest.


Presents! It’s.….a Bronco jersey and the Cub could not be happier (the irony, it burns! It burns!)

Blowing out the candles on the cake. It was the perfect ending to the perfect party. Of course, I was the perfect hostess as usual; never losing my patience or feeling the stress (it's a gift, really) as I enjoyed the company of ten adorable little boys.....

Wait a minute, how did that get in there?

Sometimes, We Must Embrace That Which We Despise

I took today off from work to allow myself adequate time to decorate the cupcakes that I am taking to the Man-Cub’s classroom later today. In doing so, I got a little taste of what it will be like once I quit my job and start working for Hugh at the store.

I think I like it.

For one thing, I got an extra twenty minutes of sleep.

Then, I exercised for an hour and therefore will not have to do it this evening.

Plus, I got my grocery shopping done at the Hellmouth and I did not have to fight crowds. While at the Hellmouth, I ran into the Cub’s Scout leader and I got to have a friendly conversation without rushing.

Then, at the checkout line, three genuinely cheerful employees, who had no problems bagging my groceries in my canvas bags, assisted me. They didn’t even look at me funny.

Once I got home, I decorated the cupcakes while watching Martha Stewart.

Moreover, I did all of that before 11:00, which is the time that I will be starting my workday at the store. If this is what it will be like, I do believe it will be perfect.

And, won’t you all please remind me of that when, after working together for a while, I confess an overwhelming desire to choke the living shit out of my husband?

Thank you, in advance for your cooperation.

Now, back to the topic at hand. The Man-Cub has been very much looking forward to his classroom party. As luck would have it, today is the last day of the High School’s Homecoming week so; the elementary school will be dismissed to watch the Homecoming parade shortly after the cupcakes are served. Convincing the Cub that the parade was not actually in honor of his birthday posed more of a challenge than you might imagine.

Since we are doing a football themed party anyway, this turn of events has proven quite fortuitous; I decorated the cupcakes in the school colors and Hugh plans to take both children to watch the football game at the High School tonight, freeing me to decorate the football-shaped birthday cake for the party tomorrow.

Sunday afternoon, there will be a Bronco game on television and, since Sunday is his actual birthday, I’m sure the Cub will want to watch it while eating leftover cake and yelling obscenities at the television (he gets that from his grandfather).

All of which means that, by bedtime Sunday night; the child will have celebrated three solid days of football-themed birthday bliss.

People who know me in real life will appreciate the irony in this. In fact, certain people will be wondering how many cupcakes I will have to consume in order to kill the bitter, bitter taste of irony in my mouth and, to those people I say, apparently more than two.

But I shall keep you posted.