He LOVES it! He cries on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays that he can't go to school.
Is that not the cutest Thomas shaped lunch box ever?
It is a little hard on Mom to see this view each time!
Sunday, September 23, 2007
The munchkin goes to school!
Is that not the cutest Thomas shaped lunch box ever?
Football Time
Unfortunately, it may be football time, but there is sure as heck no football weather! Seriously, football was meant to be watched under a big team-colored blanket shivering with your friends and drinking hot chocolate. We had a fabulous time tailgating and cheering on the Horned Frogs, but it was H-O-T. Apparently, my 12 year old thought something was hot besides the weather. Here is a picture I found while downloading my pictures today...
I gave Rich a hard time about it until Jamie chimed in that, actually, he had taken it. Heaven help me, here we go. Thank God he didn't notice the girls several rows up from us whose shirt backs read, "TCU - where the beer is cold, the girls are hot, and everyone is horny."
Seriously, though, a great was had by all and we plan to be back again and again. We will be tailgating even if we don't have tickets. If this is going to be our home, we might as well cheer for the home team. (Especially since they keep winning) And, it is the first time Rich or the boys have willingly worn purple.
Go Frogs!
Thursday, September 20, 2007
AAARRRGH!
How do you know when you are over your head and drowning in Fall Festival planning?
When you order quiche, strawberries romanoff, and pinot gris for lunch while still in your workout clothes.
As I brought my tray back to our table, my friend, Heidi, took one look at the carafe and glass on the tray and said, "Dear God! What have they done to you?"
She is fully aware that I barely even drink alcohol at night with dinner anymore, much less at lunch. Not even a fancy-schmancy girls' lunch - just lunch after the gym! She followed up with, "Did Rich leave you or something? OMG, its that damn Fall Festival isn't it?"
I stared at her blankly and silently, and then poured a glass from the lovely carafe.
Festivals should be banned! Or, if someone is your freaking co-chair, then they should at least check their email or call you once in a while! OR just tell me I don't have a co-chair so that I can just accept the fact that I am on my own.
The best advice I have gotten so far is to make sure I do a really crappy job so that noone ever asks me to do it ever again.
When you order quiche, strawberries romanoff, and pinot gris for lunch while still in your workout clothes.
As I brought my tray back to our table, my friend, Heidi, took one look at the carafe and glass on the tray and said, "Dear God! What have they done to you?"
She is fully aware that I barely even drink alcohol at night with dinner anymore, much less at lunch. Not even a fancy-schmancy girls' lunch - just lunch after the gym! She followed up with, "Did Rich leave you or something? OMG, its that damn Fall Festival isn't it?"
I stared at her blankly and silently, and then poured a glass from the lovely carafe.
Festivals should be banned! Or, if someone is your freaking co-chair, then they should at least check their email or call you once in a while! OR just tell me I don't have a co-chair so that I can just accept the fact that I am on my own.
The best advice I have gotten so far is to make sure I do a really crappy job so that noone ever asks me to do it ever again.
Monday, September 10, 2007
Lost in translation...
that is unless you have me to help you out.
My dear, dear friend SusannaBanana very recently moved to the tiny town of Enid, OK. She has never lived in the region I now call home. She called me this afternoon to tell me about an invitation she found to be strange.
A very nice lady invited Susan and her husband to join a supper club she is starting. They exchanged some pleasantries about being thankful to be asked and how it is nice to make "native" friends in addition to military friends, blah, blah, blah....It was during this exchange that the supper club lady quietly mentioned, "and, by the way, we are all Catholic. Not that it matters, of course."
Susan was a bit taken aback by this somewhat odd comment and wondered if this was some kind of cultish, we-only-associate-with-other-Catholics discrimination. I had to explain to her that she now lives in Texas/Oklahoma land. I had to translate for her:
"we're all Catholic..."
translates to...
"We all drink. There will be wine with dinner, and all of our kids are allowed to read Harry Potter."
My dear, dear friend SusannaBanana very recently moved to the tiny town of Enid, OK. She has never lived in the region I now call home. She called me this afternoon to tell me about an invitation she found to be strange.
A very nice lady invited Susan and her husband to join a supper club she is starting. They exchanged some pleasantries about being thankful to be asked and how it is nice to make "native" friends in addition to military friends, blah, blah, blah....It was during this exchange that the supper club lady quietly mentioned, "and, by the way, we are all Catholic. Not that it matters, of course."
Susan was a bit taken aback by this somewhat odd comment and wondered if this was some kind of cultish, we-only-associate-with-other-Catholics discrimination. I had to explain to her that she now lives in Texas/Oklahoma land. I had to translate for her:
"we're all Catholic..."
translates to...
"We all drink. There will be wine with dinner, and all of our kids are allowed to read Harry Potter."
Laughter is the Best Medicine
This funny gal has managed to condense an entire day of my life into one minute!
You may have to listen 2 or 3 times to catch all the words as it goes by very quickly!
If you are a mom to children over the age of 2 and you do not laugh when you see this, we probably do not have much in common.
And, I assure you that it is most certainly their father's DNA. I am simply perfect and always have been. Just ask my mother. She never said any such things to moi' !
You may have to listen 2 or 3 times to catch all the words as it goes by very quickly!
If you are a mom to children over the age of 2 and you do not laugh when you see this, we probably do not have much in common.
And, I assure you that it is most certainly their father's DNA. I am simply perfect and always have been. Just ask my mother. She never said any such things to moi' !
Sunday, September 2, 2007
But, on the upside...
I did make these for my 12-year old tennis fanatic to take to school for his birthday.
In Which She Rambles...
I know I complained a few days ago about the homework goings-on around here. I guess we are all trying to make that transition back to the world of schedules, practices, alarm clocks, and yes, homework. It is a far cry from the lazy hazy days of summer. Especially this year. Connor is in the 4th grade and has the same teacher that Jamie had 2 years ago (well, of course he does there is only one class of each grade at their school!). Well, she is the queen of homework. Luckily, she also happens to be one of those teachers that every child deserves to have at least once in their lives. She is FABULOUS, but it is a huge adjustment to be in her class. Then, in her talk to the 4th grade parents she explains to them what a huge transition this is for 4th graders and how it is a transition second only (in this school) to the one made in 6th grade. At which point she looked back at me and mouthed a pitiful "sorry" because she knows Jamie just started 6th grade.
So, what does this all mean? Well, obviously everyone around here has been a bit overwhelmed and cranky. It also means, though, that they are really blessed to be in a fabulous school with teachers who genuinely care deeply about them as people and as students. They are learning, thriving, and growing mentally, physically, and spiritually. So, why one earth would a mother be melancholy? Simply put it would be because they are growing up. It is however, more complicated than that.
This reality of a new school year is always a glaring reality check that they are growing up. And, the return of the hectic schedules is a time ripe with regrets. Why didn't I take better advantage of their, our, free time in the summer? Are there a million moments that I could have made special that I let slip away so that I could have a cleaner bathroom or more organized refrigerator? Did I leave them with any memories? Did I ask them to quiet down when I should have been laughing with, or at, them instead? Will they only remember how I was forever nagging them and their friends to not just drop the water bottles/cups wherever they finished them? At the close of every summer I pledge to to do better next year. But, when do the "next years" run out? For heaven's sake, Paige was posting high school graduation pictures of her son that I remember (not that long ago) as a charming boy younger than Jamie is now! I suppose that all parents have these doubts and quandaries, but when I am the one having them I can't help thinking that everyone else is constantly making these "postcards of the heart" moments while I am busy making beds and trudging through the inevitable day-to-day.
So, once again I promise myself, and all else who have read this far, that I will make more of an effort. I will work harder to make my own "postcards of the heart" before the innocence of childhood has given way to the demands of adolescence and adulthood.
So, what does this all mean? Well, obviously everyone around here has been a bit overwhelmed and cranky. It also means, though, that they are really blessed to be in a fabulous school with teachers who genuinely care deeply about them as people and as students. They are learning, thriving, and growing mentally, physically, and spiritually. So, why one earth would a mother be melancholy? Simply put it would be because they are growing up. It is however, more complicated than that.
This reality of a new school year is always a glaring reality check that they are growing up. And, the return of the hectic schedules is a time ripe with regrets. Why didn't I take better advantage of their, our, free time in the summer? Are there a million moments that I could have made special that I let slip away so that I could have a cleaner bathroom or more organized refrigerator? Did I leave them with any memories? Did I ask them to quiet down when I should have been laughing with, or at, them instead? Will they only remember how I was forever nagging them and their friends to not just drop the water bottles/cups wherever they finished them? At the close of every summer I pledge to to do better next year. But, when do the "next years" run out? For heaven's sake, Paige was posting high school graduation pictures of her son that I remember (not that long ago) as a charming boy younger than Jamie is now! I suppose that all parents have these doubts and quandaries, but when I am the one having them I can't help thinking that everyone else is constantly making these "postcards of the heart" moments while I am busy making beds and trudging through the inevitable day-to-day.
So, once again I promise myself, and all else who have read this far, that I will make more of an effort. I will work harder to make my own "postcards of the heart" before the innocence of childhood has given way to the demands of adolescence and adulthood.
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