I think they played baseball that night, too

Tuesday was an extremely stressful day. I haven’t even mentioned my (mis)adventures on getting to the actual baseball stadium (unintentionally visited some reallllly interesting areas of downtown Atlanta).

All of that disappeared when these kids took the field to sing the Canadian and USA National Anthems.

How cute are they? Mack is the one in the middle, hair in a ponytail. (loose skirt)

Here she is again, singing her little heart out. (middle left)

Close-up of the jumbo-tron image.

How cool was that? I’m sure it’s something she’s going to remember forever. I asked her what it was like to walk out on that field and sing in front of thousands of people. She said “scary.”

They sounded terrific and looked amazing! All the parents were super-proud. We gave the kids a standing ovation when we met them after the performance. They were so great! I can freely admit I got a bit teary-eyed hearing them sing. (then again, I get teary-eyed at just about every one of my kids’ performances)

After they sang, I became the crazy Mom yelling MACKENZIE! MACKENZIE! MAH-KEN-ZIEEEEE!!

I’m sure Mack was just as proud of me at that moment.

Tip for Bloggers: SpongeBob

To get more visitors to your blog, try this tip:

Mention SpongeBob somewhere in your blog title or blog subject matter & the people will come a’calling.

For example, the following search terms were typed into a computer:

spongebob without water, spongebob fancy, spongebob at sandy’s house

and were probably surprised and/or disgusted to come upon my little bloggity-blog. Some time ago I composed a piece of rambling nonsense on this-here blog about me and my similarity to the square sponge. Who knew that it would reap such rewards!?

Hello SpongeBob Fans! Welcome! I, too, am a fan of SpongeBob and his misadventures under the sea.

I’m thinking that with as many times as I’ve mentioned SpongeBob in THIS post, I should get at approximately, oh, I don’t know,  two or three more visitors. At least. Dontcha think?

Dear Single Moms: I am not worthy.

I’m having one of those days. You know, those days… the kind of day that makes you wish you could go back to bed and start over. And maybe you wouldn’t necessarily choose the bed in your own house… but a bed far, far away where it’s quiet and peaceful and it’s a place where children don’t wake you up in the middle of the night when they can’t sleep. (I am perfectly capable of sleeping through the night… why wake me up when you can’t sleep? So both of us can’t sleep??)

So my sweet, angelic daughter is requesting a khaki skirt two days before she has to wear it as part of her chorus uniform. A khaki skirt? No problem, I say, I can find one of those anywhere. I have also been given specific instructions on what to pick up for their Dad’s birthday present. Okay, fine.

Birthday present: done and check

Khaki skirt: Gap? Nope, not in season. Justice? Only online. Target? Nowhere to be found in the childrens section.

I get home at 8:30pm, limping in my high heels that I’ve been running around in at work all day, with the smallest adult sized khaki skirt Target had available, and all I want to do is put on pajamas and lay down. But I can’t… the dog needs to go out, the kids are about to get home, and I have a mattress being delivered tomorrow.

The skirt is too big on her. Naturally. I anticipated this, because I am the epitome of SuperMom, so I bought two belts. The belts, however, are too small, because I SUCK at being SuperMom. Safety pins are called in & clothes are set out for the next morning with the ticket for the event on the top.

I begin vacuuming the carpet in the bedroom to prepare for the mattress arrival & furniture is moved around to accomodate my bigger & more plush bed. (Yay!) Kids are getting ready for bed & I am online trying to figure out how to pay bills. 

Then I treat myself to a video chat with a bestie because I totally deserve it. (Hi Jen!) We stay up way too late gabbing about everything and nothing & then it’s time for sleep.

The next morning I wake up (video chat hangover) groggy and get the girl up too. She’s going to her friends house where she will be spending the day & traveling with her to the chorus event. (I’ll be meeting her there later)

This is the time she chooses to tell me that she needs to wear dark shoes and the dark shoes she has do not fit her. (I’ll have to write a separate post on the size of that girl’s feet & how fast they are growing another time)

**Insert Mom-who-is-about-to-lose-her-already-frail-mind here.**

I am getting myself ready, making sure she is dressed and ready & that she has her chorus clothes (and safety pin) ready to go, move the mattress I’ve been sleeping on out of the way for the new one, take the dog out (freakin’ dog), and not forget the change of clothes *I* need so I’m not sitting outside in the heat of summer wearing a cardigan sweater set. And my camera because I must over-document this moment for scrapbooking and blogging purposes.

We find two pairs of shoes that may or may not be considered dark enough and/or dress code appropriate (sandals?) and I wake up the boy to take out the dog.  Whew. Okay… moving right along.

I remind Mack to get a hairbrush to take with her along with her uniform & the two pairs of shoes so she can decide later which ones she will wear. I gather my own stuff to leave. I see her with a bag and ask her what she did with the uniform (because it was on hangers). She tells me she (stuffed) put them in the bag. I tell her to takethemoutofthebagrightnow because I didn’t want them to wrinkle. ohmygosh.

We are walking out the door (late) and she asks me about the tickets. I gasp in panic. Tickets?! Her ticket was on the floor in her room from where it fell after I took the clothes off her dresser and put on her hanger. My ticket was on the floor (behind my mattress) from where it fell when I grabbed my purse.

Bless that child.

We finally leave the house. I drop her off at her friends house & ask her Mom to offer her opinion on the shoes & would you please pin her too big skirt. She’s gracious and sweet and says, of course she will. Thank you so much to Moms who are gracious and sweet and kind.

Then I high-tail it to work. (only 12 minutes late – not too bad)

So yes, I really would like to go to bed… not my old bed… no, no, my new bed, which is being delivered between 3:00pm and 7:00pm this evening, which is perfect because everyone who lives in that house will be at the CHORUS EVENT for my daughter and not home waiting for a mattress.

Naturally.

What’s new with you?

Kids are great distractions. Mackenzie has always known how to make me smile or take my mind off of the tough stuff. On this particular-very-tough-day, she asked me if I wanted to take pictures of her. A willing model? Why yes, thankyouverymuch.

Here are a few of them:

This one is my all-time favorite of the bunch…

They may not be technically perfect… but I’m still learning.

And thankfully, some days my model has the patience to let me try different things until I think I get it right. (“some days” being the key phrase in that sentence)

The one above is our “music video” picture… thanks to the air handler blowing up at her face.

I wish I knew how to use Photoshop – I think I could play with the colors a little more and make it look more stylish. Her eyes were so amazing in this light – I didn’t want to change too much. (oh, and besides, I don’t have photoshop)

She’s pretty cute. Even if she’s playing the soundtrack to “Lemonade Mouth” overandoverandoverandover again these days. Like, a lot. Seriously. It’s on constant replay.

The whole camera adjustment stuff is still baffling me… I’m so confused with f/stops and ISO. I’m trying to figure it all out. I believe the problem is that they both have to do with NUMBERS and I am definitely NOT a numbers girl.

These pictures were taken in Historic Roswell. One plus for this part of Georgia – lots of cool places with beautiful scenery and textures for pictures.

Maybe I’ll go and play with these photos some more… and maybe I’ll look into some more photography classes. In the meantime, I’m still looking for willing models to take my mind off the changes in my life right now. Any takers?

It’s not their fault; they come by it naturally.

I tend to be a bit on the competitive side. You would know this if you’ve ever played a board game or card game with me. If you ask me a random question, I will find out the answer… and if it has to do with pop culture, WATCH OUT! I LOVE pop culture questions! And if, heaven-forbid we are doing some sort of team-building exercise, I will make sure that my. team. wins. 

When it comes to competitiveness, I identify with Monica from “Friends”: “My team ALWAYS wins!”

(Side note: do you italicize or put quotes around television show titles? I get all that grammar stuff confused.)

The kids and I have always enjoyed our fair share of games. It started with Candy Land, Chutes and Ladders, you know… simple child games. Unfortunately for them, I would usually forget that I was playing with a toddler or pre-schooler. The competitiveness would take over and I would (of course) win the game… probably do some sort of victory cheer or dance… and then look over at the disappointed, pouty face of my child.

Oops.

So… my darling children have been raised with a strong competitive spirit. Ahem.

Lately, that strong competitive spirit has combined with sibling rivalry and mixed with a dash of pre-teen attitude. That being said, I was not surprised to find something like this in the hallway:

This isn’t the first time I’ve seen this sort of thing. Afterall, we also had our own Presidential elections.  

Didn’t you?

I think this vote was much more vital to my everyday life than that presidential one. Research was conducted, ballots were printed, and the only lobbyist I had was a blue-eyed girl who wanted me to vote her way.

I told her that I needed to vote with my heart, especially over something this important.

My team won.

SILVER ONE.

Mamas, don’t let your baby grow up to be cowboys!

Skylar, who has reached the tender age of 13,  turned country. I was afraid when we moved to Georgia this could happen. I should have seen the warning signs:

• Increased use of the word “ya’ll” in regular vocabulary
• Enjoying the vocal stylings of people who wear belt buckles and boots
• Eye rolls and groans when pop music plays in the car or his sister’s room
• Heated debates over the quality of lyrics in the aforementioned pop music
• Turning his safari-type hat into a make-shift cowboy-type hat

But, tell me, how could I possibly be mad at the kid when he looks this cute in a *real* cowboy hat??

I mean, seriously… how cute is he, ya’ll?

(who else, other than me, remembers that song?)

They have medication for this.

Here’s what I’m wondering…

How were they able to identify through DNA that it was positively Osama’s body that was shot yesterday? Has he submitted some of his DNA prior to yesterday’s raid that we conveniently had on file?

Does this mean that before they tossed his wretched body into the ocean that they snipped some of his gray locks or took a blood sample in order to do so? Ew… I guess that’s what they did.

Imagine the soldier whose job it was to do that?

*shiver*

I am just as relieved and elated as everyone else that the dirtbag no longer walks on this Earth. However,  I’m not entirely sure that standing in front of the White House or in Times Square cheering and waving flags was the best use of our time.

Frankly, it made me very nervous.

This isn’t over just because he’s gone. I’m not going to all of a sudden be able to bring all the hair products (that I desperately need) in my carry-on luggage or be able to walk through airport security without removing my shoes. And have you seen the floors in the airport? GROSS.

I felt a bit like we were flaunting our joy to the world and acting a bit too enthusiastic. I think we should all be really proud of the service people who made it happen, we’re still being watched. Someone who is really pissed off may be watching us cheer and climb trees in front of the White House and want to take OBL’s place.

Or not.

But, I prefer to be cautious.

By the way – how did all those people get there so quickly? Are they all just ready for a party? I am never that prepared to celebrate *anything*.

I still think that the celebrating can wait a while… like, when the day comes where we can say this way is over! Let’s celebrate then, okay? No reason to get anyone else mad at us.

Then again, I am afraid of quicksand, gangrene, hurricanes, tornadoes, tsunamis, spiders, snakes, parking garages, flying, chupacabra, the dark, terrorism and anesthesia.

Could I be a bit neurotic about this? Perhaps.

“Baby Jesus is not a car.”

(photo taken 10/18/2010 – Michael Jackson pose by Mackenzie)

Me while blow-drying Mackenzie’s hair one morning – which I don’t do very often & she hates it: “You know, one day you’ll pay lots of money to have someone do this for you?”

Mackie: “Why?”

Me: “Because you’ll go to a salon and get a haircut and they’ll dry your hair for you.”

Mackie: “Well, I can just come to see you and you can blow dry it for me.”

Me: “But I won’t be home.”

Mackie: “Why? Where will you be?”

Me: “I’ll be busy traveling the world.”

Mackie: “Please don’t do that like Amelia Earhart!”

Me:“Mackenzie, I don’t even know how to fly a plane.”

Totally Random Memory

I was vacuuming the guest room (aka my scrap room) the other night (because company was coming and I had to) and a memory from when I was a kid popped into my head.

While growing up, I remember having a vacuum that you couldn’t leave in one place on the carpet for too long. Why? Because it would burn the carpet.

I kid you not.

Like, you’d smell burning carpet.

I wonder if either of my sisters remember this. I don’t think they read my blog so I suppose I would have to ask them.

That’s not a normal thing, right? Vacuums aren’t supposed to burn the carpet if you leave them running in one place?

I wouldn’t know - I don’t use them often enough to know if this is a common occurrence. 

Oh – and thank goodness for spellcheck because not only do I not use a vacuum, I also don’t know how to spell it.

Except when my anti-frizz conditioner gets confiscated by the TSA

When I travel by myself, it makes me feel like a grown up. Not the mortgage, not the business cards, not the two small people who insist on calling me “Mommy”… no, none of those things.

What makes me feel like an adult is walking through an airline terminal with my purse and a carry-on bag with a ticket in my hand.

A few years ago I felt like I was playing Russian Roulette with my life when booking a flight. What if I choose the wrong flight? The wrong time? The wrong airpline? I remember breaking out in a sweat and having a panic attack while on a website for airline tickets. A website. Weeks away from the trip. Weeks. But the thought of clicking my mouse on the wrong flight made me want to throw up. Or pass out. Or both. Which would be gross.

The irony is that I love to travel… I mean, once I get there all in one piece, that is. I love exploring a new city and seeing sights I’ve only heard about. It’s such a thrill for me!

I saw a doctor who gave me a prescription for some anti-anxiety medicine for when I fly. That schtuff made me wayyyy-groggy. I mean like sleep-for-two-days-kind-of-groggy.  That’s no fun when you go away for a quick weekend trip. So the medicine was short-lived and I had to learn to deal. Which sucks.

Turns out, that even though I don’t take the anti-anxiety medicine anymore, airplanes make me naturally sleepy. Maybe it’s the engines? It’s kinda my own personal ambien. Too bad it costs a couple of hundred dollars a dose.

This weekend I got to feel like a grown-up again. I went here:

Philadelphia. Cool. Never been there before. I was so excited to see this:

Also this, which is now a favorite:

(fountain was pink for breast cancer awareness)

The Betsy Ross House reminded me that I dressed up as her in the 1976 July 4th Parade when I was three years old. (no, there aren’t any pictures of that)

 

So the whole time I’m traveling I’m feeling like such the adult, having a great time with awesome friends, exploring a beautiful city… and then we visit a Haunted House at an old historic prison, and immediately I feel like a kid again…

… who was seriously in need of some strong anti-anxiety medicine.