Rhoades Trip

There is an inherent design flaw in the whole man-woman relationship. 

It starts with the whole peeing standing up thing.  Men can pee anywhere, anytime.  Women? We require a toilet, preferably toilet paper.

Which leads right into the toilet seat debate that is older than time, I believe.  The damn thing should be down.  All the time.  Does that extra inch around the bowl really help your aim any?  I think not.

Then there's the hair.  Generally, men spend 12 to 18 seconds on their hair.  Ten minutes if they're getting a haircut.  Women spend untold hours of our lives on hair; the cutting, dying, styling, curling, straightening.  It's exhausting. 

And that's just the hair on our respective heads.  Don't forget body hair.  Men may have to shave their faces every morning, but we're talking about twenty inches of face.  We have acres of leg to shave every day, in the summer at least. 

We get the pleasure of periods, cramps, labor, delivery.  They get?  Viagra.

The kicker, though, remains the temperature.  Last night, I was laying in bed snuggled up under the sheet and the quilt plus a nightgown.  My beloved is laying, flung out over the bed, in his shorts.  No sheet, no blanket. 

A fan on him, even!

What the hell?!  It's 50 degrees!  Put on a blanket.  You're making me cold just looking at you!

I can't believe I've promised to spend the rest of my life with someone who isn't cold when the mercury dips below 60. 

At least that means more blankets for me.

The difference is amazing, really.  Annie is a mostly quiet, serious, four-year-old girl.  Grace is the exact oppsite.  Outspoken, clown, insane. 
Annie looks at things from all angles, judges her competence at a given task, asks for help.

Grace looks at things from one angle - how do i do that? Decides she can do it, no problem.  Gets stuck.  Possibly asks for help, probably decides that she'll do it herself, thankyouverymuch. 

The kids had Vacation Bible School last week, at the same church where I went to VBS when I was a child.  With the same teachers I had, even.  There's something to be said for small-town continuity. 

Anyway, the first night Grace went off to her "itty bitty fishie" class with a backward wave and a laugh.  She was the only "Itty Bitty Fishie" that night and had two adults to do nothing but pay attention to her.  She was in heaven.

Annie, on the other hand, spent the opening eyeing the other kids and the teachers.  She refused to go to her Starfish class unless I was with her.  Once she was in with the other kids and the lovely Miss Susie, she confirmed the spelling of her name, denied having a bible with her, all that good stuff, she was fine.  I snuck out the door and was gone. 

The theme of VBS this year was Ocean Motion.  Every evening started with a disbursal of leis and "aloha."  Annie flipped with every application of the leis, and is now spending every waking moment giving us all a lei and saying "Aloha to you." 

I'm gonna go with VBS was a hit.

You know how everyone always says that the first kid is the divining rod for the following kids?  (Which is why I'm an only child, I guess.)  Turns out - not so freakin much.

As proof, I offer the following.  First, let me set the scene for you:

Imagine this in the booming "Let's get ready to ruuuuuuuuuumble" voice of Jack Reynolds of WWF fame.  Works better.

In this corner, weighing in at 21 pounds, the two-year-old from Mayberry RFD, Graaaaaaaaaaaaace Mae.

In this corner, weighing in at 41 pounds, the four-year-old from Mayberry RFD, Aaaaaaaaaaaaaana Liz.

Anna took something off Grace.

Grace wanted it back.  She expressed this desire by shrieking "Mine, Siddy! Mine!"

Long, hard look from hazel eyes (Anna) to blue ones (Grace). Blink, blink.

"No, doody, mine.  You play with that!"

"MINE, SISSY, NO NO NO NO!!!"

"Doody, I play with this, you play with that."

"NONONONONONONONONO!!!"

And the bantamweight scrapper pulled her bigger; older; and, theoretically, stronger sister down to the floor by her ponytail.

Maybe kickboxing lessons?

I was sauteing vegetables for dinner in the kitchen. I thought my first-born was upstairs with my mother.

Turns out that while she was, indeed, upstairs; she was not with my mother. This is what I think happened, as best I can tell from recreating the event.

Annie decided it was time to brush her teeth. An admirable pursuit, I'm sure.

Then she decided that she needed some make-up to conceal the early morning wake-up time today.

And then her teeth were apparently not quite clean enough, so she needed more toothpaste.

More makeup...more toothpaste...more mascara...wash hands...shave her beard...more toothpaste...more lipstick...more shaving...you get the idea.

So it was that I spent twenty minutes cleaning toothpaste, shaving cream, soap, mascara, lipstick, and eye shadow off the bathroom counter and sink.

The white sink with seventy thousand grooves in the bowl that I thought was so nifty when I wasn't the one cleaning it.

While I was cleaning, guess what Annie was doing?

 

...Think long and hard.  Use your imagination...



Laughing her ass off while jumping on Grammy's bed.

First, have you ever SEEN Yo Gabba Gabba?  That DJ guy?  Creeps me right the hell out.  I don't know why, I'm sure he's a perfectly lovely human being (not all that sure, actually) but he just makes me think that he's driving that van with no windows that was stealing kids in town every summer of my life.

Which brings up how am I supposed to raise friendly, empathetic daughters and also instill some kind of wierdo radar?  Another post for another day.

As you may know, I'm a full-time student.  Which means that I'm juggling school, kids, parents, and husband.  And everything that goes with each one: homework, chat times (online classes, you know), potty training, playtime, snacks, feeding of the livestock, er family, budget, fnancial aid, and the whole husband wife thing.

Last semester, my first time in school in almost fourteen years, I handled four classes and all the crap that went with it.  And I got a 3.5 GPA. 
WooHoo!

Apparently, that was a fluke, because I'm two days in and I'm already freaked right the frick out.  I have two assignments due today - today! Two days into the damn class! - and 374 pages to read in a week foe English, and a whole hell of a lot of typing, with a keyboard that is being contrary.  Like I'm not caressing the keys with the proper amount of love and devotion or something. 

And I'm medicated.  Imagine if I wasn't.  "Holy sheep shit," to quote the Sweetest Husband Ever (until he  annoys me again...or I annoy him...or I fall asleep in a toddler's bed...or, well, you get the idea.)  Love you sweetie!

Did I tell you what Annie gave me for Mother's Day?  No?  Picture it: the porch, saturday afternoon.  We're coming in from the yard for lunch which does not seem to meet with her approval.  I get her convinced that as soon as they're done eating lunch and we get Grace down for her nap, we will go back to the yard, pinky-swear. 

"Mommy, you're super.  I love you.  Super Mommy!"

Which is totally prompted by Nai-Ho, Kai-lan, but I'm taking it. 

Do you have ay gibberish to spout?  Feel free! 

Here at the homestead, we tend to fall into the 1950's gender stereotype; I usually do the cooking and most of the cleaning while Gary goes off to work every day and my dad takes out the trash.  Every year since I became a mother, Gary asks me what I want for Mother's Day.  It's always the same thing: to have to do nothing.  No cooking, no cleaning up, none of that.  Just a day to simply be. 

Some women want diamonds, pearls, cruises, Manolo's, what have you.  Not me.  Give me a book, a cup of coffee and the girls screeching at my side and I'm set.

This weekend, however, Gary went above and beyond.  Well, Gary and everyone else in the house.

Yesterday, I volunteered to take my mother shopping without my dad breathing down her neck to "get in, get what you need, and get out," and also to get the girls' pictures taken.  While we were at Target, my mother's day gift from the people I made grandparents was revealed: some new clothes for church. 

After six months of listening to me bitch complain emphatically state that I have nothing to wear to church, and I don't want to go shopping, and let's just skip this week, they sort of forced the issue.  They were going to get me gift cards, until someone I married pointed out that I would just spend it on the kids.  I can honestly say that I have not purchased more than one ensemble at a time in about ten years.  

The last new pair of dress shoes I bought was purchased in 1998 for a Christmas party.  Other than my wedding dress, the last new outfit I bought that didn't involve pants was in 2004, I think.  Clothes shopping has four major drawbacks to me: first, I hate spending money on myself - "where do I go?"; second, I hate trying clothes on; third, I can always find other stuff for other people and that's just more fun; and fourth, most of the general public belongs in a rubber room, not a store.

After what felt like hours prowling the aisles, I ended up with three new dresses and shoes to match.  Cute shoes, too.  Which is not something that I normally spend time worrying about, honestly.  I wear the same green flip-floppy sandal things all summer - when I bother to wear shoes at all. 

And then, when we got home from the shopping adventure, Gary ordered me (not his usual method of communication) to park my butt and not do anything.  He and my dad made supper yesterday and they cleaned it all up, too.  After we got the girls to bed last night, Gary asked for my assisstance as he wanted to make a cheesecake for today.  So I did supervise that endeavor, but that's it.

Today, my day started with breakfast in bed, a homemade card from Husband of the Year, two little girls sleeping in until almost nine, an uninterrupted shower, and a new dress to wear to church.  When I walked in to the sanctuary and Aunt Peg told me I looked "really sharp" in my new dress, it was all totally worth the actual shopping. 

Not to mention how hot I know my legs looked in those heels. 

After church, I did more of nothing but play with the kids and sit on my butt while Gary and dad again did supper detail. 

I finagled my mother into the trampoline with the girls - I wish I'd had the camera for that, next time I promise. 

Now, the girls are in bed and judging from the monitor silence they're asleep.  Gary is snoring in front of me and I'm actually ready to go to bed. 

Doing nothing is exhausting, y'all.

Yesterday after Gary was done hunting turkeys, we went up to see his dad and that crew.  That's always a good time.  Even though we haven't been there in about a year - which means we haven't seen them in about a year - they just opened their doors and hearts to us and, more importantly, our kids again.  That's nice.

For the first ten or fifteen minutes, Annie was buried in my neck and Grace was hiding in Daddy's lap.  Then, Gramma produced some cookies and Annie was off my lap and onto hers in a flash.  Grace took about four seconds longer, then she was gone, too. 

We hung out and ate and talked and watched the girls drag "Aun Wiz" around by her heart.  Very cute to see a 42-year-old woman at the mercy of a 4-year-old and a 2-year-old. 



Then we ladies went to get dinner - pizza and wings - while the Garys stayed behind and chased chipmunks off the porch. 

I took some pictures of my nephew for graduation and then Annie and I were at Liz's to edit and store them on their computer.  When I was ready to go back to the parents-in-law, this is the conversation that happened:

Me: Annie, I'm gonna go find Daddy.  Wanna come?
Her: No.
Me: Huh.  Well, are you going to stay with Aunt Liz forever?
Her: Yes.
Me: Without me?
Her: Yes.
Me: Okay.  Is Aunt Liz going to put you through college?
Her: Yes. Bye, Mommy.

It's nice to be loved.

We finally got on the road to come home around 9.  Grace was asleep about fifteen minutes into the drive while Annie held out for a good thirty minutes.  When we got home, after driving through a torrential rainstorm almost the whole way, we tucked them into bed and about ten minutes later, Mama and Daddy were out, too.

This morning, they slept until 9 am. 

Score!

Seems like an odd date to make resolutions, doesn't it?  Yeah, I thought so too.  I only have one, so I think I'll just slip in under the wire.  My big resolution is to get back to doing something that I loved.  Namely, writing.  Every day. 

In DaMomma's book, she had a Q&A in the back.  One of them was something like, how do you keep going?  Or something to that effect.  The answer was to write every day.  Some days, you'll suck.  Embrace the suckage, because other days you will rock.  Embrace the rockage, too.  Or words to that effect.

Oh, and I'm not going to go through the people and events in my life.  I'm just going to assume that any wayward readers know what the heck is going on.  If you don't, and you really want to know, leave a comment or email me and I'll do my best to answer it.  However, if it's nunya, then you'll get nada.  Fair warning.

For the last few days, it's been raining on and off and just being generally miserable.  Yuck.  The only good thing is that we did get the garden in on Sunday and we already have little radish leaves sticking up out of the dirt.  So, yay!

The girls are going absolutely nuts being stuck inside after the fake summer we had last weekend.  They are currently sitting in their beds eating cheerios. 

I tried to play it off into something majorly exciting.  "Rainy day treat!  Cereal in bed!"  They just looked at me like, "Whatever Mom, just hand over the food and no one gets hurt." 

It's really sad to see a grown woman try to cajole two pint-size humans into being excited about cheerios in bed. 

I'm done with school until the middle of May and of the four classes I took in the spring, I have two A's and two B's.  Woohoo!  I'll take it.  This time next year, I'll be done.  I'll officially be a college graduate.  It only took 14 years.  I'm nothing if not speedy.

That's all for today.  I have to work on the flow of these things, I know.  Bear with me.

New blog, new host, new vision.  I swear that I'm going to find a blog home that's comfortable.  I promise.