Wordless Wednesday

Things have changed...

Things have changed a lot since our last visit. DD1 and DD2 are now a college student and a high school upperclassman...and I’m in a place you never really think about being in when your kids are little - I’m almost done as a mom of “kids.”  As I transition to a mom of young adults I am actually very happy I made this blog when the girls were younger. It contains snippets of their lives I would have long forgotten, and  it’s nice to go through these things every few years. They are changing just as rapidly now as when they were younger, but they don’t so much like to be posted about. Which I get. Husband and I are older now, thinking about a future that has our kids edging more toward the periphery than taking main stage. It’s frightening, I’m having a hard time defining who I am as my role of “mom” changes. Proud that our kids feel strong enough to fly away, and at the same time wanting to reach out and grab their foot as they start to go with a “no, not yet” catch in my throat.

So maybe I will come back from time to time and talk about that? I don’t know how to be this newer version of myself - I didn’t prepare for it. You don’t have time or mental bandwidth to think too much about this next phase while the “kid” stage is happening. But maybe...

The dedication of our botvac

Do you have one? You NEED one. 

Our “botvac” (Neato B something-or-other) is practically chivalrous. I mean, he does a great job with helping pick up the dog hair from our husky (who has been “blowing his coat” continuously non-stop without missing a single hour of the day for 3 1/2 years now)...but it’s really more the little niceties that Bot does for us. 

Today, when I noticed him leaving a big tuft of fur behind in the family room when he went to recharge? I was kind of annoyed. Why leave that 3 square inch piece of floor untouched? The rest of the room was done. (Did I go pick up the tuft of fur left behind? No. Because I got distracted by something shiny.) But suddenly...an hour later...Bot turned on, drove out to the family room, turned the vacuum function on, headed for the tuft, got it, turned the vacuum off, and headed back to his charging station. 

Honestly, I hope someday my daughters find a bot as considerate and giving as mine. 😂

(No put down to Nancy, our old Neato, but we had no idea what we were missing until her motherboard glitched out and we adopted Bot a couple of months ago. May she Rest In Peace. In the basement. Because it seems cruel to throw her out.)

Well, this IS my lucky day!

I was fortunate enough to be the recipient of a remarkable letter. I've posted it here, with my initial thoughts noted in red.

*****

Urgent Reply Needed!

From: DR.ANTHONY EMMANUEL.

Central Bank Of Burkina-Faso (BCEAO)

Ouagadougou-Burkina Faso

Attn: Please, (Been thinking about changing my name to something easier…"Please” has a nice ring to it.)

This Message Might Meet You In Utmost Surprise. (And How!) However, It's Just My Urgent Need For Foreign Partner That Made Me To Contact You For This Transaction. I Got Your Contact From Burkina Faso Chambers Of Commerce While I Was Searching For A Foreign Partner. (I can’t tell you how many contacts I've had since joining the Burkina Faso Chamber of Commerce – what a great networking tool that has been!)  I Assured Of Your Capability And Reliability To Champion This Business Opportunity When I Prayed To God Or Allah About You. (You prayed to God Or Allah? Maybe both? About me specifically? How nice. I didn't get you anything.)

I Am A Banker By Profession (thank you for clarifying this, so many banking hobbyists out there) From Burkina Faso In West Africa (West Africa? Can I catch ebola through email?), And Currently Holding the Post Of Manager Of Bill And Exchange At The Foreign Remittance Department; Central Bank Of Burkina-Faso (BCEAO)(Your business card must be huge). I Have The Opportunity Of Transferring The Left Over Sum Of $10.5 Million Dollars That Belongs To Late Mr Rudi Hermanto From Indonesia Who Died Along With His Entire Family In The Tsunami Disaster In Indonesia And India 2004 And Since Then The Fund Has Been In A Suspense Account. (At least Rudi and his family didn’t live till 2014, and  die painfully in the ebola epidemic. AmIRight?)

After My Further Investigation, I Discovered That Mr Rudi Hermanto Died With His Next Of Kin. (Well, After MY further investigation, it seems that Mr. Rudi Hermanto from Indonesia was perhaps less than faithful to the Central Bank of Burkina-Fasso. Apparently he had USD$500K in the African Development Bank. Can we get that too?) And According To The Laws And Constitution Guiding This Banking Institution Stated That After The Expiration Of (6) Six  Years, If No Body Or Person (Body OR Person? Does it have any stipulations about the Undead?) Comes For The Claim As The Next Of Kin, The Fund Will Be Channel Into National Treasury As Unclaimed Fund. Because Of The Static Of This Transaction I Want You To Stand As The Next Of Kin So That Our Bank Will Accord You Their Recognition And Have The Fund Transfer To Your Account.  (You want me – a middle aged white woman who has no Indonesian ancestry or connection whatsoever – to stand as the next of kin? Yes, that probably won’t trigger any alarms or throw things into probate.)

Hence, I Am Inviting You For A Business Deal Where This Money Can Be Shared Between Us In The Ratio Of 60% For Me And 40% For You. (How did we arrive at this? I’m worth way more than 40%. Have you SEEN me?) And Any Expenses Incidentally Occurred During The Transfer Will Be Incur By Both Of Us. The Transfer Is Risk Free On Both Sides (Of course it is. Why would I even question that?) Hence You Are Going To Follow My Instruction  Till The Fund Transfer To Your Account. (Are you ordering me around? Hey, I don’t know what those bitches at the Burkina Faso Chambers Of Commerce told you, but I am NOT a pushover.)

Further Details Of The Transfer And Text Of Application Form Will Be Forwarded To You As Soon As I Receive Your Return Mail And You Should Contact Me Immediately As Soon As You Receive This Letter. (Yes. I’ll do that. Because this is a miraculous opportunity!)

Your Full Name.... (the one I tell people, or the one the govt. uses to track me?)

Your Sex..... (I’m married, so… it could be more often if I made the effort.)

Your Age.... (On file with the Burkina Faso Chambers Of Commerce.)

Your Country…. (is #1!!)

Passport / Driving License…. (I’m afraid I don’t photograph well. Will a selfie do?)

Marital Status… (see above sex question.)

Your Occupation…. (On file with the Burkina Faso Chambers Of Commerce. But, you can be assured of my “Capability And Reliability To Champion This Business Opportunity.” Since God, or Allah, assured you of this. Who are we to question?)

Your Personal Mobile Number….. (Would this be my license plate number, or the bib number from Run for The Cure in 2010?)

Your Personal Fax Number…. (Oh honey, nobody faxes anymore.)

Trusting To Hear From You Immediately (Wouldn't it be nice if everyone in the world was more trusting?)

Kindly Contact Me Back through Email dr.anthony_emmanuel@yahoo.fr 

Regards,

DR.ANTHONY EMMANUEL. 

When it hits me...

DD2 completed elementary school recently. In our district they finish in 5^th grade – and go on to middle school for grades 6 thru 8.

About a month before DD2 finished, a thought hit me…

“She missed it. She missed all of it.”

In the Spring of 2008 my mom died. April 27^th.  Her funeral was that Wednesday. And that Friday, May 2^nd, was Kindergarten Orientation.

My baby’s entire elementary school experience happened without her here. From not being able to discuss her first day of school hair bows, to not laughing about school performances, to phone calls from DD2 to her Ammie about incredible happenings, to my needing to ask her advice about teachers… all of it. Without her.

An entire chapter in my daughter’s life has passed since my mom had to go away. Every chapter after will occur without her Ammie here to share…so much has happened within our family during DD2’s elementary school years. It simply doesn’t seem possible that so much has taken place since she has been gone.

My friend, Mrs. Nielson, was so right when she told me, “It never hurts less. It does hurt less often.” Even though our lives did return to normal after she died - and we don't perhaps feel her missing so constantly -  sometimes? “It” hits me like a truck. 

5th grade Science Fair: The Parent Project

Ahhh, the Sunday Panic before this week's science fair. It never gets old.

I hypothesize that the real question is...

by which number child (ie; first, second, third, etc.) do the parents 

realize that TWO WEEKS would be a better time frame for getting 

the child to do a less stress filled, better quality science fair project?

Child #1 (DD1):
Weekend before = Chaos 
Not too stressful, as an entire weekend to run the experiments proved sufficient for child #1's project. Child had time to complete write up, print, and glue information / pictures / graphs to board by themselves, but only just. Glue MAY have been wet on display board as Science Fair was beginning.

Child #2 (DD2):
Sunday before = Greater Chaos (because the parents forgot how involved this actually was... and had plans all day on Saturday).
Mother to spend time during Monday or Tuesday typing and printing up the information which child is busily compiling with Father on Sunday evening. Some frustrated yelling in the kitchen has ensued. Glue will for sure still be wet on Thursday for Science Fair. Consider variable of using quick dry glue stick.

Child #3: this variable is lacking in our household. Suspect two possible outcomes:
Outcome #1: Start experiments two weekends ahead so there was no last minute rush = Happiness
or
Outcome #2: Night before Science Fair would be dubbed "sufficient time necessary" = Child in tears at 10pm when experiments not yet complete, parents sitting in living room Googling "results." Presentation board simply drawn on old Christmas boxes taped together by mom while child sleeps (using the only two markers she can find in the house), and spelling mistakes go uncorrected. (Let's face it, spelling mistakes go unnoticed until board arrives at school.)

Therefore, I conclude that - no matter how many children the parents have - this never gets easier.

A significant new metaphor for the mommy generation...

I had my hair cut today.  I have needed a haircut since approx. mid January... but kept having to reschedule.  This time I just didn't even bother with  my regular salon.  I have a friend who cuts hair, she's awesome, and the only reason she isn't my regular stylist is because she's my friend and when I get the itch to switch I would feel bad about leaving her.  I love her. You shouldn't love your stylist like that - it's just bad manners to do the bitch-switch to a good friend.

Anyway, I was explaining to her what my normal stylist does, and how she gave me a few more layers last time after she saw that when I came in to the salon I had left my hair wavy because I was in a hurry that day. I'm explaining how I like the extra layers because it makes it easier if I'm in a hurry or don't have to look so great I can just throw some aveda curling product in it and run. 

Her interpretation?
"Like yoga pants for hair."

By far the most brilliant and perfect metaphor I have ever heard.
Ever.
She's like the Aristotle of hair.  I love her.

Homework's little helper...

(DD2 missed math today because of doctor appointment.  Tonight she had the classwork as catch up work, plus tonight's homework.  Six pages of math, between 5 and 10 problems per page.  I'm bleary eyed after a long day, and then I have to teach her the days lesson. My thought is, 'She's bright. She can probably do most of it herself.  A few quick words from me and she will sail through this.'

WRONG.

DD2: "Mom, how do you write 2784 in expanded notation as the sum of multiplication expressions using powers of 10?" 

Me: (crickets)
              :
        (What....the....)
              :
      "I have no idea what that means." 


Seriously? Was that even in English?  She didn't read that right....she couldn't have read that right...
...Oh my god, she did read that right.

And then it hits me, I don't have to die a slow, painful death while my brain melts over the way the questions is worded.  I have a SECRET WEAPON. How did our parents every manage to help us with homework when they didn't have the Secret Weapon?  The Secret Weapon of Maths Mass Destruction... the Secret Weapon that lets us know, "OH! They're talking about expanded notation with exponents of 10! Why didn't they say so?*"

THE Secret Weapon:

Google

Interpreting Ridiculous Homework Instructions for Parents Since Sometime Around the Year 2000.

 

 

*Honestly, was the person writing the math book being paid by the word or something?

My drama queen

DD1 likes to be on stage.  When she was little she'd go through an entire year of ballet and tap just to get to the recital.  While I believe it started out as a love for the costumes, stage make-up and flowers, it has ended up with her liking to perform on stage.  Which, as a mom, is fun to watch. 

Her school does two plays each year.  A 'regular' play in the Fall, a musical in the Spring.  She doesn't sing, so she didn't want to do the musical. She does realize she has a flair for the dramatic, however, so she likes to do the drama/comedy/non-musical play in the Fall.  When she tried out this year, since she made it last year, I figured they would give her at least a small part. On the day parts were announced I was excited for her - even though it was going to be rough going on her time-wise for a few months.  I was also a bit worried that maybe she didn't make the play.

Our conversation at school pick-up went something like this:

Me: "So, did you get a part?"
DD1: (almost in tears) "Yes."
Me: "What part did you get?"
DD1: (humiliated) "I'm a 19 year old pregnant girl."
Me: (knowing this was a play that had something or other to do with the Titanic, and now I'm feeling bad because she is crushed at the part) "You mean like a maid or something? Do you die? Don't be sad."
DD1: "I don't know if she was a maid.  I live, I'm Molly Brown's best friend."
Me: (I started smiling, because I've seen James Cameron's version of Titanic maybe 25 times. I know from that clue who she has been cast to play.) "Honey, what is your characters name?"
DD1: "Madeleine."
Me: (and I know what I'm about to tell her because there are a couple of snarky remarks made about this 19 year old woman in the movie and they stuck with me) "Would your name be Madeleine ASTOR?"
DD1: (looks amazed) "How do you know that???"
Me: "Madeleine Astor was the scandalous 2nd wife of a very famous man, John Jacob Astor."
DD1: "So?"
Me: "You play a woman who is married to like the richest man in the entire world at that time. You play a society woman, and she was in all the papers after the Titanic sank.  Her husband died on the Titanic. One of the richest men in the world from one of the most well known families in the country at that time."
DD1: (Perks up) "Really?"
Me: "Yep."
DD1: (Beaming) "Well, that's a pretty good part!"

Sure.  Pregnant widow at 19... a pretty good part!  So there you go.  Smiles from the tragedy of the Titanic... I wonder if James Cameron would have ever guessed his aside remarks from characters in a movie he directed would make my daughter so happy?  Also, my gift for trivia seems to come in handy somewhere other than a board game... we're all winners here!

What's in a name?

So DD2 turns 10 tomorrow.  My kids always like to hear stories about when they were little, or have you tell them thing about themselves - even more so around birthday time when they are particularly self involved (as only the young can so innocently be).  Today over oatmeal we had a fun conversation.

DD2: Did you like when dad picked out my name?
Me: Yes.  It was on our agreed upon list.  When we met you it seemed to fit.
DD2: What does {her name} mean?
Me:  'Cruel.' It means 'Cruel and bad mannered.'
DD2: No it doesn't.
Me: Yes, It does.
(and then I giggled over my bowl of oatmeal, which blew my cover.)
DD2: (huge smile) You're not funny.  What does it really mean?

I blanked.  I have no idea what her name means.
Because the second child gets the shaft.
I know that my first daughters name is Hebrew and means, "Grace" or "He (God) has favored me".  We were careful with her first and middle names that they were strong, sounded good with our last name, and that they looked good on a resume. I had always loved her name and since I was young I had wanted a little girl with that name.  Husband and I discussed this name and boy names at length with our first pregnancy. Naming our child was a responsibility we took very seriously.

DD2 was named over email correspondence.
What?? We were busy.

I emailed a list of names to Husband. He edited, added, and return emailed. Back and forth over several weeks when we had time. Seriously, I wish I had kept the thread, because there were comments from Husband like, "the girl that cuts my hair likes {name}" (so that name would go on the list) I would send things like, "My sister (the kindergarten teacher) said we shouldn't use {name} because there was a girl in her class one year called {name} and she always bit people and smelled bad" (and remove another name from the list).

Oh yes, such depth of meaning and careful consideration went in to picking her name. Looking back I'm surprised "Afterthought" never made it on to the list.

But when we went to the hospital to have her we had four name combinations that we really liked:
Catherine Grace (who we would call 'Cate')
Grace Elizabeth (Because DD1's name means "Grace", and so they would match)
Julia Catherine (thank you to girl who cuts Husband's hair, she liked this one)
Eleri Grace (yes, Eleri is NOT a common name - and no way was Husband ACTUALLY leaving the hospital with a daughter named Eleri... but it was so cute when said out loud with our first daughter's name that I wasn't removing it from the list.)

Also? It was Husband's turn to name the baby. I was the one who named our first daughter - I had picked out her first name and we went from there.  Husband got final decision on this baby.  I was totally OK with that, and liked the idea of meeting her first.  About 15 minutes after she was born he said, "I like the name {name} for her."  Which surprised me, because I thought he was favoring a different name on the list.  But I had to agree - the name he chose fit her.

Even if we had ZERO idea of what it meant.

That's right - we never stopped to look it up.  Which I didn't realize until this morning. 

So I grabbed my phone, found a baby name site on the internet, and looked up her name. She has a very pretty name, so I'm expecting to find something about beauty or strong moral character.

Me: (after reading the meaning) Uhhh... its Latin and..... well? I have good news and bad news.
DD2: Huh?
Me: According to the name finder it means, "Down-bearded youth."
DD2: What is that?
Me: I think it means that you may get your Italian great-great-grandmother's moustache, but if you do at least it will be very soft.
DD2: (blankly looking at me)
Me: Oh wait - right here it says, "Youthful."
DD2: Youthful?
Me: that means "young".
DD2: I know. 
Me: So, you got that going for you. Finish your breakfast.

What's in a name, then? 
I'm not sure. 
But when you look at my second daughter?  The one with the dark hair, fair skin that never tans, blue eyes, high cheekbones, and freckles?  The one with the sparkle of mischief in her eye that could only be because her 11th Great Grandfather on my mother's side was half Leprechaun?  Perhaps we should have listened more closely to DD1 when I asked her all those years ago...
Me: What should we name the new baby?
DD1: (then 2 years old) "Fionna." 
To which I replied: "No. That is WAAAYYY too Irish!"

Turns out?  Not so much. I just checked and Fionna means, "Fair, white, beautiful." 
Go figure.

REMOVED FROM SITE!!! Party "GAME" sold by Urban Outfitters

UPDATE:  As printed on the Urban Outfitters Website... "We're sorry. This product is no longer available."  YAY!!  And a huge THANK YOU to Urban Outfitters!!!!!

And Thank You 9News for following up on a tip from a concerned viewer!!  You guys rock!

Please note: The party game mentioned in this blog entry and the one linked from Facebook is not manufactured by Urban Outfitters.  They sell this game.  My issues is that they have marketed this game to their demographic in such a way that  I feel it may encourage violence and reckless use of guns, and I would like to see it removed from their product offerings.  The maker of this game is Can You Imagine, inc. (www.cyi.net) - and I'm not suggesting you boycott their products either.  In fact, they make some pretty cool stuff it looks like.  I'm contacting Can You Imagine, inc. regarding this product also.  They may not have any idea that members of the general public find this offensive and disturbing.
**********

I find this so highly offensive that I am at a loss for words.  (Well, not exactly - I just don't know how else to get my point across.)  THIS is a "GAME" being marketed by Urban Outfitters right now:

A "GAME" called "Party Roulette" that retails for $16.00.

I am not an anti-gun advocate.  My husband owns several guns, and I do not want anyone to think what I am saying here has anything to do with the 2nd amendment.  What I happen to be disgusted with is that Urban Outfitters is selling a game of Russian roulette to young people.  How is that in any way responsible marketing?  Of course this isn't a real gun - but this is just so outrageous I can't sit back and not say anything.  I have kids; I appreciate when consumer advocacy groups create a backlash when inappropriate clothing is marketed to underage kids.  I don't agree with sexualizing our youth, I also don't agree with making a party game out of Russian roulette. 

LOOK AT THAT PICTURE!

I'm not conservative. At all. I'm understanding that retailers make mistakes. A bit of the response Urban Outfitters has received in the past has been nonsense in my opinion. I like the idea of a shirt proclaiming the support same sex marriage, and I don't at all mind that they showed two girls kissing in their catalog any more than I would mind them showing a guy and girl kissing in their catalog. Kissing pictures can be done in good taste. Most of the adverse reaction, however, has been pretty well earned. The pro-booze shirts and "USA Drinking Team" shirts marketed to consumers under 21 were in bad taste.  Color options listed as, "White/Charcoal, Obama/Black" can only be thought of as disrespectful. And they do show an anti-Semetic bent at times which is absolutely unacceptable (if you click the following link it will take you to the article outlining the ways they have crossed the line on this):  ' "If Urban Outfitters is good at something, it is getting publicity," says Ami Cohen, an American Apparel employee in Tel Aviv. "This company has a history of coming into conflict with Jews." '  (This link is a list of "11 Urban Outfitters controversies" posted by The Week in August of 2012.)

But this isn't a t-shirt.  This is a party game.  So will people be as outraged? This isn't something that our kids will be wearing - it's a game that may end up at parties they attend. Out of pure curiosity, I searched Russian roulette, and this popped up, "Teenager dies in game of Russian Roulette - the THIRD death in U.S. in four months."  This was published two days ago. This isn't fun. This is tragic - and there is a game that is basically selling it as a joke to our teenagers and young adults.

It is my feeling that this needs to stop. I don't know how to organize a recoil in response to offensive product marketing - but I'm ready to learn. I'm so offended that I'm taking this to the "court of public opinion" as my nephew phrased it. In the same way it is not OK to mock racism, offensive to mock abuse of any group, and outrageous to promote the sexualization of young people... it is barbaric to mock the senseless violence that is reckless abuse of guns and violence. The game, the picture, the mocking... it is distasteful, insulting, and ghastly. From what I can find on the internet, they have stopped selling products in the past which the public has let them know to be controversial or offensive.  I would like to see that happen here.

You may not agree with me. I respect that. Please respect my feelings too. I would be happy to expound on why I think this is so very reprehensible if someone needs more clarification.

In 1964 Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart, when making a clarification on how to tell when something (pornography) is an obscenity, "I know it when I see it."

How do I know when something is profoundly offensive? I know it when I see it. This goes way past good natured fun - I don't expect to see Waterboarding become a party game, I wouldn't support blackmail being featured on a late night infomercial... and I think that turning the idea of Russian roulette in to something frivolous is not only reckless, but dangerous. And for me the fun stops here.

What I suggest certainly isn't a boycott of Urban Outfitters - but perhaps an email to their Chairman, CEO, President Richard Hayne.   richard.hayne@urbanout.com   If Mr. Hayne doesn't know of the consumer displeasure with a product, he can do nothing to correct the problem.  Certainly I wish he would pay closer attention to what his company is selling - and look at it from a more conscionable point of view - but since this slipped by him? I think letting him know would be a good first step towards getting things like this off of popular websites that teens and young adults frequent and where they are influenced. I like a lot of the fashions they have on their site - I can see why my daughter would like being an Urban Outfitters customer (with mostly her parents money).  But I'd feel a whole lot better about her shopping there if I didn't see such huge examples of bad judgement and gross disregard for the danger that is gun mis-use being displayed where she shops.  To make Russian roulette in to a fun game?  Is sick. 

So, please spread the word - join me - contact Mr. Hayne.
 Or tweet. #urbanoutfittersaction
Blog.
Talk.
We can make a difference!

Dodi
Twitter: @dodim
Gmail: mail4dodi@gmail.com
Or, leave me a message in the comment section. 

THANK YOU

Shock and Awe...

OK, I'm aghast.

Shocked.

Appalled.

(What I'm not, however, is speechless...)

Found on the site hostessbrands.com:

Hostess Brands is Closed.
We are sorry to announce that Hostess Brands, Inc. has been forced by a Bakers Union strike to shut down all operations and sell all company assets. For more information, go to hostessbrands.info. Thank you for all of your loyalty and support over the years.

If you have eyes and ears you heard the news yesterday.  It's unbelievable.  Hostess?  Gone?  How can that be?  How will life as we know it play on?  To you it might just be snack food - an unhealthy harbinger of obesity and childhood cavities.  But I was a child of the 70's.  I hit the age of 5 in 1970, and never looked back.  Twinkies?  Yes please!  Hostess Ding Dongs?  Those yummy chocolate cream filled treats that were individually wrapped in aluminum foil?  Don't mind if I do!  Sno Balls!  Come on - SNO BALLS?  Those pink, furry looking marshmallow covered snack cakes?  Say it isn't so!  Childhood without tasting a bright pink Sno Ball?  (And spitting it back out, because ewww!)

Really?

One simply does not "grow up" without Hostess. 

Think about it.  Fruit pies?  What was a slumber party in the late 1970's without hostess fruit pies? For goodness sake, I think I ate Hostess Cinnamon Rolls three times a week in high school for lunch. (They were sold in the cafeteria line. Heck, in the winter time they'd even warm them up for you.  YUM!)  And how does a large family even BEGIN a long road trip without packages of Donettes flying around the car?  (I preferred the waxy chocolate, but there were also powdered sugar and plain if you liked.)

Possibly the worst tragedy of this entire event?  The crippling fact that may bring this country to it's knees?

Next week is Thanksgiving. 

And what do you do the day after Thanksgiving??

You eat a turkey sandwich for lunch!  Leftover white meat, mayo or Miracle Whip (depending on where you grew up and how insane your parents were for thinking that Miracle Whip wasn't the ONLY choice to be made here), maybe you slap on some of the leftover cranberry sauce... and you make the sandwich on WONDER BREAD.  It is the only time of year we buy the soft white bread that reminds us so very much of our childhood.  Wonder Bread is the bread that pops in to your mind when someone references "White Bread", right?  Soft, squishy, bland, perfect white bread.  And I cannot fathom a day after Thanksgiving turkey sandwich without it. 

Guess what Hostess owned?  That's right kids... Wonder Bread.

This?  Combine this with the fact that war is encompassing our world, global warming, natural disasters at every turn, erotica (lady porn) ended up on our National Best Seller list, the Kardashians are more successful than ever, and Gangnam Style has been unleashed.

People, how do we trust our future to people who will never have been exposed to Twinkies? Never tasted a Ho-Ho? Won't recognize the iconic loops of white frosting on a Hostess Cup Cake?

The only conclusion we can reach from all of this?
The Mayans may have known what they were talking about.
 I expect Zombies any day now.
Zombies who would rather eat brains than day-after-Thanksgiving-turkey-sandwich on wheat bread.

Word.

DD2: Fashionophile

DD2 just gave me a 3 minute dissertation on how wearing the right boots can cover up a fashion faux pas.  Like wearing pants that are too short.  (Specifically about pants that are too short, in fact.) She was well prepared, I'm surprised she didn't have note cards.  Instead of an expected power point presentation?  My darling daughter had thought outside the box.  She had dressed the part, thus providing me with real life visual aids. 

Now I wonder two things:
1) how long has she been planning this little "intervention"? 
and
2) which outfit of mine prompted the need for her fashion wisdom?

When things are not right with the world...

I make wishes on falling stars, on birthday candles, and on soft, white, puffy dandelions.

And I wish for extraordinary things.

I'm forgetting what that felt like...

August 10.
That morning... the last time I was happy. 
Really happy, without a cloud waiting in the wings.  Not that I could see anyway.

It seems like a really long time ago. 

It wasn't.

NOT helping my Karma situation any...

I have a feeling lately that Karma is on my tail.  And not in a good way.  If this is the case?  I didn't do myself any favors today.

Today I decided to stop the store on the way home from school drop off.  Grocery shopping, pick up a prescription... aren't I on the ball? 

Well, yes.  Until I get back out to the parking lot with a cart full of purchases and not one clue where I'm parked.  I drive a grey Acura MDX - the most generic car of the last 10 or so years... there are seriously thousands of twins to my car out there.  At least 5 in every parking lot.  Today, after walking straight to the second of the matching cars I'd decided enough was enough.  I've been under a LOT of stress lately.  I had no patience for a lost car - especially when I was the one that lost it.

So, what's a person to do when looking for a car in a parking lot during the daylight hours? 

Hit the Panic Button. 

Ummm, yeah.  Not my best idea. 
Because my car was about 12 feet from me, in full view. 
Also in full view?  A toddler and her mom. 
A toddler that was passing directly behind my car as the horn started to go off.
A toddler that was so freaked out by the happenstance that she shrieked as her body lifted from the ground.
A toddler who landed FACE FIRST on the pavement right behind my car.  As she looked up?  Her face was a little scraped and she was sobbing. As I walked past them, exchanging a look with the mom that said "why is the horn going off?", I saw her hands were scraped too.

I?  Did not stop.  No WAY right now do I have it in me to deal with that mom.  Because that mom would have GONE OFF on me (rightly so), and I did not feel like being yelled at in a parking lot.

I walked on by, turning in between a couple of cars, where I stayed crouched and hidden until she loaded her toddler up in her car and left. 

I am a coward.
OH MY GOD. 
It's like I just invited Bad Karma to the prom, and offered to pay for the entire evening. 

Damn.

I look at her...

Right now I am constantly looking at DD1.  Because when I saw her performing on stage - confident, beautiful, graceful, fun, serious - I can see a glimpse of who she will be when she is older.  Not what she will be doing, but snippets of what she will be like.

I will start by saying that when my daughter is in her stage makeup?  She is gorgeous.  Which I know is a weird thing to think when she is 12 and I don't want her to grow up so quickly and I totally mock the Toddler and Tiaras crowd. I always think she's a pretty girl, I'm her mom.  Realistically I know (read: hope) that she won't wear as much makeup in real life as she does on stage, but I can see what it does for her eyes and how it shows off the fullness of her lips (which I would love to have, alas - she did not get them from me) and I know she'll wear makeup when she's older like we all do... and having a glimpse of that is kind of cool. It's probably cool to me because it is temporary.  I'm sure later I'll wish I could see her fresh faced again and wish she didn't always wear makeup.  It seems there is no pleasing a mom!

There is a "look" my daughter does... she's been doing it since she was tiny tiny tiny, and to me it is so very "her".  When I remember her being little, this is one of those "looks" that I see.  She looks up through the tops of her eyes, but it isn't an eye roll.  It's one of her thinking looks - she used to do it a lot when she was talking or telling a story, now I only see it occasionally when she's talking about friends or school. She does it when she dances, and I'm so glad she does. Because for a fraction of a split second she is my little girl again. She has no idea she does it, it is one of those completely unconscious moves that one does that makes them unique. It makes me smile.

When I watch her dance I see that she isn't always in the right place at the right time, but she makes adjustments quickly.

When I watch her dance I see her being in front of people doing something very personal that could be judged, and she is comfortable there.

When I watch her dance I see that she is willing to work hard and doing so brings her joy.

When I watch her dance I can see that she is growing up, but still retains things that make her "DD1".  Things that are a part of who she will always be no matter what.

I look at her...
My daughter.
My amazing daughter.
I love you more than you will ever know.

Whisper

Hold your breath
Make a wish
Count to three.

Anywhere but here
Anytime but now
Anyone but me.

One of those magical mornings of childhood...

Sometimes "special" breaks out without even a moments notice. 

"Mom, can we have a tea party outside?"
Sure...  so I sent out cups, saucers, small plates, cookies (freshly baked yesterday, thank goodness that today I'm the mom with good snacks), and the neighbor kids set up the picnic blanket. A 1/2 gallon of pink lemonade later and an impromptu tea party has broken out on my front lawn.

I love that.

I love that we have neighbors that my kids will have such special memories of, that are a huge part of their childhood.  They run back and forth all the time, but sometimes for just a short while it's extra special. Something that they will share with their kids when they talk about being kids themselves.

My next door neighbor kids lost their grandfather last night.  I'd like to think that for a moment he and my mom were next to each other and looking down at their grandchildren having such a wonderful, innocent, honest moment of being sweet kids... one of those unplanned moments in life that is just so happy.  And they will smile at each other.  Because is there anything grandparents love more than their grand kids?

I truly believe that this moment of special was brought to us today by the Universe.  Because sometimes as a mom the most special moments don't happen to you directly.  They happen when something blossoms in your children and you get to watch.  From the shadows, but you get to watch. 

And then it's over. 

I'm guessing that moment of peace and quiet and friendship and sharing will shortly be replaced by a water fight.  Because that? Is what Summer Break is all about.

(In Memory of Jerry Warren Gilman: September 24, 1941-July 17, 2012. Thank you, Mr. Gilman, for giving me my friend Jen.  She and her family are such a blessing in our lives.  You have earned your rest, enjoy eternity with your Heavenly Father. Give my mom a hug for me, and thank you for sharing your stories with me. I love that you remembered so much detail about meeting your wife! One of life's great romances.)

You'd think by now I'd know...

Why, in the middle of the night, when I am suddenly woken up by someone standing over my bed does it never (ever) occur to me that it might be one of my children?

Why on EARTH would it be an intruder? 
It's never been an intruder.
Are there many intruders who are under 4' 10" who run around in nightshirts and messy hair?

And yet, my first thought is never "Oh, just one of the kids".  It's always "(GASP) WHAT? WHO ARE YOU?"  Sure that the waking poke was from a knife (which might not be the case if I made them cut their nails more often), I'm certain with every fiber of my being, for that split second in which I first notice that someone is standing over me trying to wake me up, that I am in mortal danger. 

And then I'm cranky, because really?  Being woken up by an intruder is scary.  Trumping any nightmare they might have just had, which is probably why they are standing ominously over me, poking me, trying to wake me up.

You'd think I'd learn.  But no. 
Tiny little intruders with teddy bears, calling me mom. 
Clearly you can see why I'm terrified.