Bittersweet Relief

Summer is over.
I am going back to work.
Probably it is just the nick of time.

I have run out of time killers.

Remember when back in the 80's tv writers went on strike.  That was about the time I first discovered David Letterman.  It was also about the time my parents, my brother and I took a roundabout driving vacation to visit some family friends in Ohio. 
During the day my brother and I would sleep in the minivan and ignore my parents as they pointed out hand powered corn gins and quilt shop after quilt shop.  Early on in the vacation my idiot brother kept count of how many different state license plates he saw.  Out loud.
By the time we got to the hotel every night Uncle Bachelor and I were wide awake.  We would take a swim in the hotel pool and then get ready for bed and watch Letterman.  By that time I was pretty delerious from the drive and Uncle Bachelor was delirious from the sheer fact that he was still alive after being forced by my dad to be my "victim" so I could practice my life saving skills.  (Hey!  The hair carry is a legitimate life saving technique.  And my dad thought it was funny.) 
Letterman would come on and Uncle Bachelor and I laughed our heads off.  Partly because Letterman was funny and partly because my dad would sit on the bed and say repeatedly, "That guy is NOT funny.  He thinks he is funny, but no one else does.  He's stupid!"
Anyway, during the writer strike they would do Network Time Killers.  Obviously to kill time on the show.  My favorite was What is Hal Gurney Wearing?  Every night he was wearing the same thing - tan chinos, blue oxford and so on.  Hilarious.  My dad thought otherwise.

Back to the summer.
I am out of time killers.
Indoors during the heat of the day we have done markers, play doh, cartoons, cleaning, blocks, wrestling.
Outside we have eaten popsicles, rode bikes, gone to the park, chased squirels, sidewalk chalked, watered plants.
We have walked the mall, shopped at the toy store.  We have blown bubbles, visited Gramma and picked The Coach's vegetables.
Saigie and I even laid in bed one afternoon and ate a whole package of cookies.

I am tapped out.  I am out of entertaining ideas.
I will miss the "lazy" days of heading to the park and cuddling babies after nap, but.........
It is time for me to go back to work.  The babies are headed to day care for the first time in their lives.  (They previously had a sitter.  She moved.)

I am going now to answer a hundred questions a day from different teenagers instead of just Tayte.  I am going to refuse to clean up after them instead of following them around with towels.  I am going to put on heels, make up, and even a bra.

It will be a nice change of pace.   Until about Thanksgiving.  Then I will be ready to be home again.

Any big changes coming your way?

You are My Sunshine

One of Tayte's very favorite songs.  So cute.
I was rewarded by Rory at Mom's Time Out .  
Her blog is a great Canadian blog where you can truly get a time out!!
Thanks Rory.

I am supposed to tell you something about myself and then choose others to receive the award.

I am racking my rain here to think of something to tell you, but unfortunately I have told you everything.
How I would rather my daughter fold clothes than do homework.
I am allergic to everything including latex.  Go ahead make jokes about the number of kids  have.  Everyone else does.
You already know I am my mom's favorite.

Shees. I really should have paced myself.

Oh.  Here I thought of something.
When I was little I thought monsters lived under my bed, but not just any monsters.  Ankle-less monsters.  And since they had none...they wanted mine.  So for two or three years I always got in bed by taking a running start and jumping up into that four poster bed from a as many feet away as I could to save my ankles.  Getting out of bed in the morning was no problem because of course they monsters only come out at night.

So there.  Now you know.  I was a crazy kid.

I am supposed to pick ten blogs to pass this award on to, but ten seems overwhelming so in true Heather fashion I will just do nothing and say that I enjoy all the blogs I read so check some out on my list over yonder!!

Thanks Again Rory!!

Question - Did you have any strange childhood imaginings?

Where it began

When I was in the first grade I had a bike.  It was blue.  It had a white vinyl banana seat.  I was a young first grader so I don't think it was weird that I had training wheels.  It didn't seem to bother ME at the time....

UNTIL....

My stupid little brother who was three got a bike. 

There are two things you need to know here.  It was a tiny little bike.  Also unique about the bike was the fact that a person could by pedalling it propel it in a forward OR BACKWARD direction.  (Have you ever seen a three year ride a bike backwards down the street?  It is pretty funny.)
The other thing you need to know is that my brother was a stupid over achiever.  He was one of those kids who was forever racing into the house on report card day waving it in front of my parents' face while I was eating mine and trying to concoct a story to explain its whereabouts involving rabid wolves and the plague.  He lettered in like seven sports in high school AND BAND.  He was an honor student...blah blah blah.
So of course the second his three year old self plopped down on the seat of this tiny bike he could ride it with no training wheels.    (Ha ha on him.  I still have hair.)

At that point I HAD to have the training wheels taken off of my bike.  So my mom did.  My parents would take turns pushing me down the sidewalk. 

Finally they both tired of this game...it may have been hours, it may have been weeks.  I don't know.  I believe my mom suggested I "practice" alone until she got out there. 
I did.  And I eventually figured it out. 
Jubilant after riding five feet unassisted  (As my turd little brother was making donuts around me in a wheelie.) I ran in to announce my acheivment and invite my parents  to watch the miracle. 
They came out to witness my success.  Whereupon I rode down the sidewalk and straight in to a tree.  I ended up hanging onto the tree for dear life about six inches from the ground while my bike sailed out into the street.

I started writing this story to prove how far I had come as a cyclist.  (Not far.) 
Since that day I have run into the back of a car, forgotten to unclip and fallen over a couple of times.

But now I am ticked off by the whole list of things my little brother mastered before me.
* I vaguely remember him peacefully playing with Hot Wheels cars while my mother unloaded the TRAUMATIC info on me that there is no Santa.  (In later years I asked her why she didn't care that he heard and she nonchalantly replied, "Oh.  He already knew.")
*I also had to call him from college so he could explain to me about an asymptote...or whatever it is.
* When I first got my license I had to take him with me wherever I went.
         a. I never knew how to get anywhere and
         b. I never knew when it was my turn at four way stops.


Shees.  Now the focus of this post is that little brothers are annoying.
I think as parents now we should all keep that in mind.

What is the most annoying thing one of your siblings has done?

It's a Wonder

In honor of my older brother, Guns, 44th birthday my mom posted a couple of pictures of him on Facebook as a little boy.
Here is one of them.

Happy Birthday.

O.K.  I am officially done talking about my brother's birthday. (What?  That brother doesn't read my blog.  He is too busy shooting stuff.)
Now I would like to discuss this picture.

First.  I always thought that Donald Duck ride-on toy belonged to Brother With No Nickname who is two years younger than me.  Obviously at some point in my early childhood Donald was stolen from me and no one stepped in to correct this injustice.  All my life I have felt something was missing...............

Second.  I look like I am wearing a coat made of my brother's Shetland pony who used to bite.  Which is definitely bad fashion and furthermore I would be willing to bet I was allergic to the creature as well.  

Next.  I didn't notice it upon first glance, but my brother, Guns, is carrying a WEAPON very close to my head.  Now I realize this was the good ol' days back in the 70's when car seats didn't exist and no one wore a bike helmet.  Nobody cared back then how much McDonald's a kid ate,  but doesn't toting a shotgun near your baby sister's head seem a little foolhardy...even for Texas.

Hey!  IS that a beer I see in his little red wagon? 
It is a wonder I survived my toddlerhood!!   My kids aren't even allowed to carry a pocket knife.

 I am not even IN this picture.  I was probably at the ER.

PS.  Wasn't "Guns" the perfect nickname for my big brother.  And.......my little brother would like from now on to be referred to as Uncle Bachelor.  What do you think?

Dear Mom

Mom- You were and are a wonderful parent.  The following letter is not trying to insinuate otherwise.

Dear Mom,
Do you remember when I was growing up?  You know, back when you DIDN'T have an entire drawer in your kitchen devoted entirely to little candy bars?
Do you recall those days when letting a speed demon eleven year drive your car was NOT considered acceptable.
Do you remember back when you DIDN'T think ice cream was a suitable breakfast food?

I am just wondering.  I am also wondering if you can think of any reason my daughter is sick so often this year.  She seems fine physically, but she does often claim she needs to stay home from school.  Do you think it is a subtle, but chronic illness?  OR - Do you think it could be the fact that you took her SHOPPING while she was staying with you during her illness?  Hmmmmmm?  Hooky-itis?

Do you happen to remember the rule when we were growing up that if you stayed home sick you couldn't leave the house all day.  Not even if you DID make an amazing recovery in time for gymnastics practice?
And you sure couldn't be taken to lunch.  You had to eat soup and crackers. 

Who are you and what have you done with my mom?

Love,
Your daughter

P.S.  Sincerely thank you for watching Saige while she had a stomach virus, so that I didn't have to miss work.  You are the best.

P.S *2 - I am even more sorry that you now have the stomach virus.

The Shakes - Illustrated Story

 I have been racking my alleged brain trying to think of a new marker story.  I was hoping for one that didn't involve a bloody injury.
Here is was I had.  ( I think calling it an "Illustrated Story" may have been overselling it a bit.)

 Ok.  I may have cried.  Just a little.

 17?  Who lets their kids go off to college at 17?

 Maybe we weren't so adult after all.  (Maybe I am still not.)

Maybe she uses a pillow and shuts her eyes now.  She is probably tired.  She has adorable twins!

I blame the pixie stix for not being able to find my very first college class.  Archery.  I didn't cry as I wandered the campus in the 110 degree heat.  Ok.  I did.  Just a little.

(Preeti is my best friend since the sixth grade.  We met when I borrowed a dime from her.  Since then there has only been a few years where we didn't live within a couple of miles of each other.  I have tried to write about her several times, but there just doesn't seem to be words to express her awesomeness.  Obviously she is a kind hearted soul.....she stuck with me through those glasses!)

What can you never eat again?  Ever.

I am hopping at these blogs today.  You go hop too!

Sippy Cup Mom

Smart and Trendy Moms

Toddler Awesome

I Won't Play Putt Putt. You Can't Make Me.

Here is why.

(In all honestly, I don't think my older brother was really that excited.  I was.  I had a totally cool swimsuit that year.)  (Tayte absconded with my yellow marker which is why my brother and I have orange hair.)

 My mother was afraid I had lost an eye.  We got in the car to head to the nearest ER.  In a move exhibiting quick reflexes I have not seen from my mom before or since she shut the visor before I could see the damage in the mirror.

 They also CUT OFF my super cool swimsuit.  Hello?

I also said many other funny things.  I kept called calling the male doctor "ma'am" and I said he was there to take my "whiskey".  Apparently I am quite humorous when knocked nearly unconscious.

I am lucky the plastic surgeon was good and I still have most of that eyebrow.  I am also lucky the bad perm eventually grew out.  (Hey.  It was the 80's)

I can't feel about an inch of my forehead over the scar and that side of my head is still numbish. 

I cringe at the thought of ever playing miniature golf with my own children.  Who really thought that was a good idea anyway?  Who said, "Let's put these hyper children in close proximity to each other and then give them long hard weapons made of metal?" 

There is my story. 

Let me know if you got a chuckle and I may start doing this regularly. (All the stores don't have to center around injuries.)

(Saigie really enjoyed watching me color.)

Boobies, Babies, and a Blog

Once Upon a Miracle