These Hands

All of my life, I have watched my momma work like a dog. She is getting close to 70, and still mows her 3 acres all by herself. When I was a kid, my brother and I would watch her work on our car if it was busted, tend to the animals, fix the things that were broken around the house, bust her hump in my grandparents garden and still manage to get dressed and ready for church/work on time. I have never heard my momma say that she cannot do something. Now that I think about it, it must be a Lockhart woman gene because my granny and my aunts are the very same way. If there is work to be done, they make it happen.

This morning, I took Sam to the bus stop around 6:20am and I noticed that the car seemed funny. Then I took Ella to her bus stop at 7:15am and something still didn't seem right. Jena and Miles normally walk to school with our neighbors, but since it was raining, I decided I would drive them all this morning. We loaded into the car, and something was still not right. So I had Jena get out and check for me, and sure enough, I had a flat front tire. Now I know that you are wondering how in the world I didn't notice it before. It was dark. And raining. And I was in a big fat rush. So I called our super duper good friend Ruth and she came and drove the younger kids so I could figure out what to do.

I found the air pump and decided that I would try to put air in the tire and take it to get it fixed. Well, naturally, when I tried to attached the compressor hose, the stem fell off. (geez.)

So I got out the big jack and pumped up the car. I started to take off the lug nuts when I remembered that you have to untighten them when the car isn't jacked up. So I had to let the car back down. (grrr...)

While I am working on the car, Wyatt is busy in the garage getting all of the tools out of the toolbox for me. It was about time for him to go to school, so I called our good friend Angee (Happy Birthday Angee) and asked her if Wyatt could ride with her. I am so thankful that she was able to come and take him for me. (whew)

After about 45 minutes, some tears and a small fit, I was finally able to get all of the lug nuts loose and the car jacked back up. Thank God Ruth and Angee were here to lift me up and cheer me through it. And that they don't judge me for acting so darn childish. (are tear streaks through grease on the face sexy?)

I was having a very difficult time getting the spare tire on. It seems that our jack doesn't go high enough. I called my Jeff who is working in Colorado this week, and he was pretty worried. I think he wanted me to stop messing with it. Luckily, after being married 19 years and 8 mos., he knows better than to tell me to stop doing something once I've got my mind set on it. (i think he is pretty darn hot.)

After trying and trying and not knowing how in the world I was going to get that darn tire on, I called Franklin. He is like a brother to me. And he is smart about these kinds of things. He told me to put the old tire back on. Let the jack down. And get some wood to put under the jack. (so thankful for my brutha from another mutha.)

So I did. And sure enough, I was able to get the old tire off, and the spare tire on. (woo hoo)

Waa laa! The new tire is on. It only took me about 2 hours. No blood. Some tears. And lots and lots of grunting. (wow)

Then I had to air the spare up because I let all of the air out of it when I was trying to figure out how to get it on because the jack wasn't high enough. (silly me.)

I can't wait to call my momma and tell her what I did. She is going to be so proud of me. (i love her)

And I am really really proud of my very dirty hands. Maybe I'll keep the grease under my fingernails for the weekend so that I'll have a little reminder that I can accomplish anything. ANYTHING. (feeling strong)

And I am just posting this picture for Jeff. See, I was even being safe and I put blocks in front of the other tires to keep the car from rolling off the driveway. (YAYE ME!!)


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Oh, and how 'bout that I finally figured out how to work the timer on the camera too!! YIPPEE!!

Perfect Timing

I've been pretty frazzled lately. JC has been traveling a lot. We have been going non-stop. I've been trying not to be grumpy. I've been trying not to be short tempered. I've been trying not to sweat the small stuff. (stoopid dishes.)

And then today, on a blog that I love, came a most timely post that included this passage from Erma Bombeck. Oh Erma, you've hit the nail on the head again.

I needed this today.

No More Oatmeal Kisses — January 29, 1969
Erma Bombeck

A young mother writes: "I know you've written before about the empty-nest syndrome -- that lonely period after the children are grown and gone. Right now, I'm up to my eyeballs in laundry and muddy boots. The baby is teething; the boys are fighting. My husband just called and said to eat without him, and I fell off my diet. Lay it on me again, will you?"

OK.

One of these days, you'll shout, "Why don't you kids grow up and act your age!" And they will.

Or, "You guys get outside and find yourselves something to do ... and don't slam the door!" And they won't.

You'll straighten up the boys' bedroom neat and tidy -- bumper stickers discarded, bedspread tucked and smooth, toys displayed on the shelves. Hangers in the closet. Animals caged. And you'll say out loud, "Now I want it to stay this way." And it will.

You'll prepare a perfect dinner with a salad that hasn't been picked to death and a cake with no finger traces in the icing, and you'll say, "Now, there's a meal for company." And you'll eat it alone.

You'll say: "I want complete privacy on the phone. No dancing around. No demolition crews. Silence! Do you hear?" And you'll have it.

No more plastic tablecloths stained with spaghetti. No more bedspreads to protect the sofa from damp bottoms. No more gates to stumble over at the top of the basement steps. No more clothespins under the sofa. No more playpens to arrange a room around.

No more anxious nights under a vaporizer tent. No more sand on the sheets or Popeye movies in the bathrooms. No more iron-on patches, wet, knotted shoestrings, tight boots, or rubber bands for ponytails.

Imagine. A lipstick with a point on it. No baby sitter for New Year's Eve. Washing only once a week. Seeing a steak that isn't ground. Having your teeth cleaned without a baby on your lap.

No PTA meetings. No car pools. No blaring radios. No one washing her hair at 11 o'clock at night. Having your own roll of Scotch tape.

Think about it. No more Christmas presents out of toothpicks and library paste. No more sloppy oatmeal kisses. No more tooth fairy. No giggles in the dark. No knees to heal, no responsibility.

Only a voice crying, "Why don't you grow up?" and the silence echoing, "I did."

What makes me so LUCKY?

A friend asked me on Monday, WHAT MAKES YOU LUCKY?

I've been thinking about this. A lot.
There are the standard responses. My husband. My kids. My home. My health.
blah blah blah
I feel like people answer that question without gusto. Without full understanding. Without heart.
(cause you know, i know everything and i'm so perfect)
For me, this really is a loaded question.
I know that things could have turned out so so so differently.
I know that the love that I have is nothing short of a miracle.

I AM LUCKY.
I say it everyday.
EVERY.SINGLE.DAY.

LUCKY ME!!

I am lucky because I know to make sure our kids know they are loved.

I am lucky because I really appreciate my person, my soul mate, life partner, lover and friend. And I am always thankful - even when i'm not.

I am lucky because I am trying hard to remind myself not to take people for granted.

I am lucky because I KNOW that the dishes don't come before the people.

I am lucky because I try hard to know the value of my friends and to let them know on a regular basis that I APPRECIATE THEM.

I am lucky, because if my life didn't start out the way that it did, I would never never know how lucky I am.

I know it in my heart.

I feel it oozing out of my pores.

I AM LUCKY.

ns4fbs

My not suitable for facebook status for today: Just caught the sweet baby licking the plunger. Took it away from him and fussed at him. He is still crying for it 10 minutes later.

Makes a momma proud.

(Orginally sent to friends via text in mid-September.)

It's The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Yes ladies and gentlemen, it is that time!

The Austin City Limits Music Festival is upon us and I am so dang excited.

Our city is decorated with ACL billboards like ornaments on the Christmas tree.

And it makes me feel like at kid at Christmas.

I was out working on a school project with a few lady friends Monday night and all the ladies were talking about the festival this year. One of the gals mentioned this article that was in the newspaper.

I was laughing at myself this morning, because when I read the article yesterday, it kind of irritated me.

And then I had to remind myself that as long as their are women having babies and families raising children, there will be someone waiting to criticize them and offer a better way to do things.

I know lots of people roll their perfect eyes at the fact that we mostly take our kids to the festival all three days. Our general rule for all things during this time of our life is that we all roll together. We've got some common sense though. Last year when it was pouring, we let the Sweet Baby and Miles stay with our dear and trusted friend.

And the year before last, Wyatt was only a few weeks old and he was having a rocking good time at the festival.

And can you even imagine that when he was hungry, I fed him?

And you know, babies and kids need naps and those naps can only be taken at home.

And gosh, everyone knows it is just too loud for babies to attend a music festival. It is very very dangerous for their young ears.

And and there is NO WAY that a baby could actually have fun at one of these things.

We make a point to make sure that our kids are OUR responsibility and that they have great festival manners.

So for all of you out there that wanna poo-poo us for having an incredible time with our kids at one of the most outstanding festivals in the country, try thinking about your own festival manners.

I have seen way more adults act like idiots than kids. (And yes, I know that is a grown up choice.) But being drunk is never an excuse for having bad manners. NEVER. So when you are drunk and falling on me, I'll turn to my kids and remind them that YOU (not them) are the perfect example of bad manners.

And when you are SOBER and walking right across our blanket and knocking my $27 coke over, I'll turn to our kids and remind them that only assholes do idiot things like that without saying sorry.

So maybe the article should have said something along the lines of 'bring your kids and make them behave.' (What a concept.) And if you don't have control of your spoiled freak kid, then leave, or get a babysitter, or call grandma or whatever you need to do to keep the other 59,999 folks from being bothered by YOU. (And please notice that I put being bothered by YOU. Yes YOU. It is YOUR reponsibility to make sure that your kid does the right thing. NOT your child's responsibility.)

And if you are a grown-up acting a fool, you will be used as an example of how not to act when you are grown. See...ACL is actually a learning opportunity!!

And oh, I am still so so so excited!!! :)

Okay, I'll step off my box now.

NSFFBS #1

(Correctly guess which one of these country folk sent me the message and you might win a prize!)

I often send my real life friends text messages with 'Not Suitable For FaceBook Status' updates. They are usually pretty funny, sometimes disgusting and always MY VIEW of the world around me.

Most of the time, I don't think these thoughts and observations are suitable for Facebook because I don't want to get involved in opinionated conversations with people I barely know that I have to be friends with on Facebook. And I certainly don't want my crazy Republican friends to have to cross paths with my crazy Democrat friends. Geez, it'd be like keeping the crazy drunk uncle away from the Bible thumping aunt.

So here is my NSFFBS for today:
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I love old friends. Got a message from one today and it said:

'I hope you have registered to vote. And I hope I don't have to tell you who to vote for.'

Ah, I love my home people.

A Sunday Kind of Love

I have spent the better part of the last coupla days complaining. Complaining because I am tired of waiting until payday. Complaining because I want the house to be cleaned. And complaining because stoopid sports has splooged into our Sunday and as a result, we have three games today. THREE GAMES. ON OUR SUNDAY. Say what? Say what say what?

I don't want to go to games on Sunday.

I don't want to eat the crappy groceries in the pantry.

I don't want to wash clothes.

Boy, am I am complainer, or what?

And then this morning, I realized it isn't all that bad.

Less than 24 hours til payday! WOO HOO!!

(Jeff working from home again. I guess things could be worse!)

I watched one of my favorite movies (The Family Stone) with the girls this morning. We had the windows open and were all laying on the couch just having the most perfect morning!

(Jena is a bathroom pro.)

Everyone has helped to do the house work and all of our primary living area are clean! Yippee!!

(It makes me so happy when Ella dusts for me.)

It is perfect weather to have all of the windows open!

(And this is how Ella picks up the toys behind the couch.)

The boys have been having a great morning playing together.

(Sam and Miles playing chest, while Wyatt looks on.)

And maybe this Sunday isn't so bad afterall.

(Another perfect day to enjoy a good book outside.)

I think I might actually enjoy sitting on the field in the perfect weather watching our kids have fun with their friends.

I just hope I have time to get a coke on the way.