When a child procrastinates...

Last week, N brought home an assignment that required him to make paper dolls of his family.  He picked our family (the three of us), and I was touched...until I realized that his alternative was his dad's family, and there are simply more people in that one.  I can't say I blame him.  Anyway, they're doing an Oregon Trail unit right now, so he had to make paper dolls of us in late 1800s apparel.  I saw the assignment, and told him he needed to work on it a little bit at a time, because next Thursday would be here before he knew it.

Hey, guess what!  Next Thursday?  It's tomorrow.  And until 3:15 this afternoon, he hadn't made one bit of progress.  "Where are all of the pieces of fabric and stuff so I can make these dolls?" he asked me, accusingly.  "Um, what are you even talking about?  You know I'm not the LEAST bit crafty.  I don't have junk like that." I said, glaring at him.

Needless to say, it was not a pleasant afternoon.  The dolls had to be made using three different mediums, so N's is made of construction paper, mine is made of part of a cloth napkin, and a sharpie colored shirt, and B is made of a fabric sample that I intend to use for throw pillows, printer paper, and crayons.  N put a hat on his, so the other two needed hair.  While I contemplated yanking some of my own hair out, (you know, to make it realistic), I ended up giving a forgotten stuffed animal a haircut.

I am going to kick BUTT on my 5th grade project.  No, really, I didn't do much.  He did the majority of it...I just helped with some of the cutting while he wandered around the apartment, looking for materials.  B got really upset because he just had hair that was colored on, so I cut some more off the dumb porcupine and gave him hair.  Then, he wanted a hat, and can I just say?  He was getting really upset over this project, and the fact that his doll did NOT look like him.  I reminded him it was N's project, and that when he was in 5th grade, he could make his family however he wanted.

So, when B's in 5th grade (and N's a 9th grader...YIKES!), he intends to give N a pink shirt, make him fat, and write, "I AM FAT" on the shirt.

Sounds pretty 1880s to me.

After he finished, B had a few meltdowns.  We're still in the whole "Oh yeah, I'm at my mom's now..." deprogramming stage, so it's been rough.  Both boys won the privilege of an early bedtime, and I'm pretty sure it was very necessary.  While I made dinner though, I sent them outside to play.  One came running in for a football...then a few minutes later, the other ran in to get another football...and then they both ran in for more balls.  When I stopped them, I learned that both footballs were stuck up in a tree, and they planned to throw MORE balls at the footballs in hopes of getting them down.

What happened instead?  They ate dinner, then hit the showers while I went outside and looked up at the tree.  They were in bed by 7:30, but fought until 8:05, so it'll be early bedtime tomorrow, too!  I like that.

Tomorrow's my last day of round two of the squat challenge.  I'm super excited, but I think I'll miss it if I stop.  I'm open to ideas and suggestions. 

Anybody?

Aubs

No, seriously...I can't make this stuff up.

It has been a day...a day I wouldn't believe if it hadn't happened to me personally.  Also, in the true fashi...SQUIRREL!...fashion of random tidbits, I reorganized my pantry.  Yes, I realize this is entirely fascinating, and I'm taking bets on how long it will last.

This morning, B was dragging while we were getting ready for school, and I was headed to babysit my two favorite littles, so I was leaving the same time they were.

Except B decided to go sooooooo S.L.O.W. that they missed the bus.  When I yelled, "GREAT, you missed the freakin' bus!" I'm not going to lie.  I channeled Kris Kross in my head, along with a little of my dad, and started in on "I missed the bus.  I missed the bus.  I missed the bus...and I'm never ever ever gonna do it again."

But not out loud.  I was mad on the outside while jamming on the inside.  It's how I maintain control...except for the part where I chucked my keys across the apartment and made one of the dumb vertical blinds fall down.  Note to self: Put in maintenance request to repair blind.

After I dropped them off at school, I realized I had left my laptop on the counter, so I had to go back home anyway.  And THEN, after I'd just turned onto the one way access road, I realized I left queso on the counter that was supposed to be with me, so I went back again.  (Sherry, if you're reading this, you're welcome!)

As I'm headed over to babysit, I'm singing along with The Script at the top of my lungs, and putting on Baby Lips (Thanks for getting me hooked, Sherry!) when I looked over and saw...dun dun dun: the cop car.  Facing me.  Stopped.  And speed trapping.  I slowed down, realizing I was going almost 20 over the speed limit (in the flow of traffic, of course) and flashed him a smile as I drove by.  He smiled, shook his head, and let me go.  I'm leaning more towards believing the fact that my hair (which had dried naturally and was threatening to take over all breathable airspace in my car) was terrifying is the reason I avoided a ticket, and not because I was a girl who smiled at him.  Then again, if smiling were the reason, that would totally give me a slight ego boost.  I think I should stick with the hair theory.

So, I'm hanging out with these two little sweeties, and my favorite little girl just isn't herself.  Her eyes are red and watery and she looks like she's on the verge of tears.  She says her head hurts, so I ask her if she wants to curl up on the couch and watch a movie while I wash the breakfast dishes.  She agrees, so she and her little brother (who was watching for my car to pull up before he ran to tell his mom I was there) get all cozy and start watching a movie.  I went over to give her a kleenex, and brushed her hair back and realized she was running a fever.  Poor girl...and did I mention that her birthday is tomorrow?!

I text her mom, gave her some motrin, and we spent the rest of the morning reading stories and watching the Disney channel.  All of sudden she looked at me and said, "Aubrey, I feel much better!" and I could tell she did.  Still, it stinks to be feeling yuck right before your birthday.  I hope she's able to enjoy her day...you don't turn 5 everyday, you know.

After that, I was right around the corner from a bridal store, so I went to try on some dresses my bride friend and I had agreed were worth a second look.  I had the greatest helper EVER, and when I showed her a picture of an "online order only" dress, she ran off and came back with one that was almost exactly the same.  I put it on, took a picture, sent Amy the picture and the color choices, and BAM!  Bridal party dress?  Done and DONE.  I know it's a relief on all counts...AND it has pockets.  Seriously, when I saw the pockets, I was totally good with it...and since it was almost exactly like the one Amy had sent me, I knew it was going to be the right choice.  I mailed her a color swatch, and am so thrilled to have that marked off our list.

This morning, I looked at my watch, and it read 1:30.  Since it was 6:42, I took this to be a sign that my watch had stopped.  My watch with the battery I had replaced 9 months ago...had stopped.  I took it back to the same store, where they opened it up and saw that I had a 5 year warranty.  YAY!  Extended warranties save the day once again.  I realize a watch battery is a minor thing, but I still count it as a win.

I rushed home, got in a pilates workout, and the boys rushed in just as I was in the middle of scissor kicking.  I almost took B out.  Hilarious!  I hurried to put "normal" clothes back on, and off we went to the chiropractor.  Seriously, this day went on forever... 

On the way, we were stopped at a red light, and I had the windows down, when "Love the Way You Lie Part II" by Rihanna came on my iPod.  For the record, I'm not a Rihanna fan, but I do like that song...and I hadn't heard it in forever, so I turned it up.  I didn't even notice that there was a panhandler 5 feet away from us, until I looked over, mid-belt, and saw him rockin' to the beat.  About that time, the song goes, "So maybe I'm a masochist" and B always sings, "Maybe I'm a Mexican..." and he didn't disappoint today.  I'm dying laughing, and apparently, he sang loud enough for the panhandler to hear because he's just staring.  Or maybe it was the white girl with the two boys in the backseat and Rihanna blaring that threw him off.  I guess we'll never know...  We finished at the chiropractor, and as we were leaving, I called my sister.  See, today's her birthday: the last year of her twenties started today, so the boys and I sang "Happy Birthday" on speakerphone to her voicemail, and then I talked over them as they sang all of the random "and many more on channel four" type things they could come up with, including some arguing over which channels went with what.  Totally typical and entirely hilarious.

When she called back later, she said she would actually listen to it, instead of deleting it like normal. Hahaha, I love my sister.  When we finally got home, I went to grab the mail, and I had a postcard!

"Dear Aubrey, CONGRATULATIONS on your engagement!"

Say, what?  Does somebody know something I don't?

Only me, folks...only me.

Have I ever mentioned that I can't make this stuff up?  'Cause honestly, I can't.

Aubs

Coconut Milk Pancakes

Yeah, I know.  It sounds weird, but coconut milk is actually pretty tasty...and since it's dairy/lactose free, B can have it.  This experience is proving to be a challenge, but y'all know me.  I do love a challenge.

Speaking of challenges, I have 3 days left in round two of my squats challenge, and it's still awesome.  This weekend, I was reminded how important it is to activate my glutes.  I'm all about lessening the jiggle.  Too much jiggle is NOT a good thing.

Anyway, pancakes...  I looked at recipes using coconut milk online, and was not impressed with the reviews, so I just made my normal pancake recipe: (eggs, oil, flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, salt) and then made "sour" coconut milk instead of "sour" regular milk.  The batter was super-duper lumpy, but it smelled right, so the boys became my guinea pigs.  They took way longer to cook than what I'm used to, but they ate all but three pancakes.

I'd call that success, if I do say so myself!

Today starts my week with both boys, and the de-programming is always hardest on the first day.  He wanted to play a game, but melted down when we picked one.  Then he wanted to cuddle on my bed and watch the Disney channel with me, so we crawled up into my bed, and I read a book while he flopped all over me, totally messing up my covers (which he knows I hate), and digging his bony little elbows into my thighs.

Meanwhile, N was in the living room, working on his homework (which I haven't checked since I'm mom of the year and all) and playing that dang recorder.  Bless his heart, he has to play "Amazing Grace" on the recorder for a grade tomorrow, and as of Sunday, only had 3-4 notes down.  I asked if he had music, and he said, "Yeah...but I can't read it anyway."

Right, but I can.   You should've seen his eyes light up.  I googled the position of the notes and started telling him to try notes, as I totally pulled notes out of thin air.  When he brought home his music today, I went through and wrote the correct notes on there (he had them all wrong, poor thing) and then explained quarter and half notes.

Y'all, it's a small victory, but before he went to bed tonight, he could play the entire song.  Yes, his recorder tends to shriek notes from time to time, even though his fingers are in the right places, but I'm sure his teacher knows they aren't the most accurate instruments in the world.  B kept running (and thumping) around the apartment, yelling, "Sing 'Amazing Grace,' Mom!"  So, I did.  And he said it took forever, then ran off into his room to entertain himself since he's grounded from video games at least until Friday.

Two Fridays ago, he told his seatmate how to spell "Shit" because she asked him to.  Last week, he and two other boys were caught playing in the bathroom by a Kindergarten teacher.  They were so loud that this teacher could hear them through the wall in his classroom.  He went into the bathroom, and delivered them to their classrooms.  It was bad. 

And so, he's grounded.  And he's being really crappy about it.  He keeps trying to wear me down, and has already been warned (in the first 90 minutes he was home) that if he continues to pester me, he won't play them for 2 MORE weeks.

Mom plays hardball.  He should know this by now, but I guess he forgets.  Now, I'm trying to figure out what to do for Spring Break, since we're staying local.  I'm hoping we can fill the week with friends and fun, and good enough weather to where we can spend the majority of the time outside.

We'll see how that pans out...

Aubs

The moment you know you're doing something right

On Friday, N asked me to take him to buy a new hoodie...with his own money.  I agreed, so we went to look for this hoodie that he had imagined in his head.  The poor kid.  He's definitely mine.  He couldn't find what he was looking for, and after two stores, he was becoming more and more frustrated.  I told him that we were on the tail end of hoodie season, so the likelihood of finding exactly what he was looking for was pretty small.

His dad called as I was frantically searching for my keys at Academy (they were on a folding table next to the Rangers t-shirts...SUPER cute, by the way), and I agreed to watch Baby E for 45 minutes in exchange for Justin picking up BOTH Baby E and N and taking N to Grapevine Mills to the Nike Outlet.  Well over 45 minutes later, he finally came to pick them up, and I told N I'd see him the next morning.

Around 10:00, I get a tearful phone call from my boy.  He said he grabbed a hoodie at the Under Armour Outlet (a brand he had specifically told me he didn't want since all the other kids wear UA), and was really unhappy with his choice.  I told him that he needed to get some rest, that we could talk about it in the morning, and reinforced what I'd told him earlier: just because you want something and you're prepared to buy it does not mean that you just have to go get it that second.

Impulse is NOT the best idea ever.  People always laugh when I say that...probably because I've always been the queen of impulse.  Look at my life.  Exactly.  Nothing further.

Anyway, I'm different now.  I'm a real grown-up.  Shut it.  It's true.

N came home, brought the hoodie, and I told him we'd take care of it sometime this weekend (which we did not).  Then, as I was drying my hair, I realized I didn't see a tag.  I asked him where the tag was, and he said he took it off.  I explained that, if you take the tag off of a clothing item, most places won't accept the return.  Long story short, his dad had the tag in his truck and brought it over this afternoon.  The tag was for a girls' hoodie, something I pointed out to N, who got super pissed in a hurry.

I told him it was because his hair was too long.  I'm shamelessly lobbying for a haircut, and I don't even care if I'm playing dirty.

He went to the batting cages with his dad this afternoon, and when I got him back, he said the words I never expected to hear from him...

"Mom, I'm so glad I live with you...'cause it would really suck to live at my dad's. And, yes, I know I'm not supposed to say 'suck,' but I just wanted you to know how much I really mean it."

Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus...and yes, Aubrey, you ARE doing something right.  He went on to tell me how he's not a huge fan of his stepmom, partially because she doesn't like me, and partially because she doesn't seem to care about him.  (Both of these I know or have noticed, but haven't said a word...maybe I should now that he notices, too.)  He asked why she doesn't like me, and I said, "Well, honey, maybe it has something to do with the fact that your dad and I get along so well.  We're friends, and even though we don't always agree, we can usually work things out."

Disclaimer: This was not always the case, otherwise things in our lives would be different and probably joint.  This is a recent development in the last few years.

He told me that his dad and I get along way more often that his dad and stepmom do.  He said it seems like all she wants to do is fight.  I probably found more joy in that statement than I should have.  I don't want anyone to be unhappy...but when you're talking to your ex (me) and tell her, "Well, I guess I better marry her or cut her loose." it's hard to get a sense of overwhelming excitement about wanting to spend the rest of your life with someone...right?

Or maybe it's just me.

Aubs

I'm the best Wii golfer ever

No, really, I'm not.  In fact, I do better when I golf left handed...and to be honest, I almost typed "I do better when I bat left handed" because that's pretty much what it looks like. 

N came home early but not as early as last time.  We hung out, and I finished compiling food for our night at the Aimee & Wes' house while N played around on my laptop.  When I finished making Aimee's "no bake" coconut cream pie, we took off to run a few errands.

On the way out to Aimee's, we met some other friends in Rockwall to drop off two doorstops, I mean, loaves of banana bread.  I've been bugged to make it for weeks and each time I make it we don't end up getting together so it gets trashed or given away.  Today, though, we made it happen.

On the way, I get a message saying something to the effect of, "I told my kids who I was meeting, and they both came running."  It's in writing.  I'm the most awesome.  Other people and their children come running when there's a chance to see me.  I wish my kids would take a page out of that book sometimes.

Really, they're pretty great.  They mostly love to have me around.  Mostly.  Anyway, we got to Aimee's and her littlest, the one who normally runs, screaming, was friends with me!  He played with me!  And we watched Peter Pan about a jillion times.  I think he has a new favorite!

We ate dinner and pie and snacks and then Wes told us about some butt exercises that he learned on his oil rig (go ahead and laugh...I did), but I knew most of them...so I taught him some abdominal stuff he can do, and then we did squats.  Everyone else wussed out, but I did my 90.  I have 5 days and I'm done with round two of the squats challenge.

My thighs appreciate my efforts.  My abdomen says I need to get back on the pilates bandwagon.

After all what's the use of staying single for life if you can't look good while doing so?

Duh.

Aubs

Baking day

Since I've had a fairly boring week, I decided I would get some baking done.  This decision was made based on the fact that I had a bunch of mushy bananas and a bag of apples in the bottom of my refrigerator that I felt needed to be used.  We're apparently "anti" apple at the moment...B has a few loose teeth, so he's steering clear of apples.  N can take or leave apples, but likes applesauce, and I'm not that thrilled with the idea of making my own applesauce when it comes in handy little pouches.

But, I digress.

I told N that I wanted to make a cherry pie today since it was Washington's birthday, and I thought it made sense.  He picked up on my train of thought, and said, "Oh, yeah...'cause he chopped down the cherry tree and was honest about it."  If only my kids could take a page from his book, but they always seem to fib, even when they KNOW (and repeat on a regular basis) the following statement by heart:

"It's better to be honest about doing something bad and get in a little bit of trouble than to lie, get caught ('cause Mom always knows) and then get in trouble for lying AND doing something bad."

They added the "'cause Mom always knows" on their own.  I had absolutely nothing to do with it.

After the cherry pie, I started making banana bread, but the making process was halted several times by a fussy Baby E who came over to play for 45 minutes (which ended up being over 2 hours) between when his mom had to go to work and when his dad was supposed to be done working.  He was cranky, I was frustrated, and N was flat out pissed.

Justin came to get both of them, and when he walked in the door, I deposited E in his hands and went to finish my banana bread.  As it was baking, I began to compile my very first apple pie.  I wasn't sure how it would turn out; I didn't use Granny Smith apples (because I would've if I'd had them: they're my favorite), but it smelled pretty good while it was baking.

I have one more pie to make tomorrow, and a couple of snacky items, and then I'm headed to my friends' house.  Aimee & GPWes are two of my best pals, and we don't see each other often enough.  Aimee and I have been friends since before her oldest was born (he's 12) and she and N share a birthday!  Her younger son fears me, and has been known to cry upon seeing me...usually because when I show up, it means mom & dad are leaving.

At least someone's afraid of me...

Anyway, N will be home first thing in the morning, although I thought he was going to come home tonight after a tearful phone call...and then we'll have some relaxation time before we head off for an afternoon/evening of fun.

I'm so grateful for low key weeks like this.  I realize they are usually few and far between, and while there are tons of other things I should have been doing, I'm glad I took the time to just "be" this week.

Goodness knows, I needed it...

Aubs

Some days are just not that interesting

I feel like this week has been full of not so interesting days.  It's really been quite boring, but not quite peaceful...as weeks with one boy instead of two sometimes are.  Actually, the weeks where it's just N and me are often more crazy because I'm trying to get everything done so I'll have less to stress about the following week when it's back to the three musketeers.

This week has mostly involved changing my appointment to get some warranty work done, literally, every single day.  Each morning, here's how it happens: Wake up, wake N up, turn on my laptop, change my appointment date to the next morning at the exact same time, make breakfast, pack N's lunch, and off to the bus we go.

In fact, I might break the cycle and change it tonight instead of in the morning.  Why?  Because I don't feel like going.  Plus, I really can't stand the service manager.  I thought he was gone...service managers/sales people don't tend to stick around...there's a fairly high turnover rate.  When I went in to schedule the appointment, though, he was back, and it took me a day or two to remember why I couldn't stand him.

Mostly, he tells me I don't know anything about cars.  He's right, to a certain extent...but I'm also not stupid.  I know that he can't force me into anything, even if he does speak in a condescending tone when telling me I'm going to ruin my car if I don't ___________.  Hey, dude...save it for someone who actually has a gullible bone in their body, okay?

All of my gullible bones were removed.  It didn't even hurt!  Imagine that!

I'm still pretty bummed about not being able to go see my dad this weekend, but N and I are going to go hang out with my homie, Aaaaaaa-Ohhhhhh! and her husband, GPWes.  She and N are actually birthday buddies, and she and her older son were with me when my water broke.  Special!

Now that I've moved my appointment to Monday, my class is not meeting tomorrow, and I've done most of my homework for the week, I guess I get to take a nap tomorrow!

Who am I kidding?  I was totally going to do that anyway...

Aubs

Gray, rainy days are nice...until they aren't.

Look, I love a good, cozy, rainy day just as much as the next person, but it's a real pain when I actually have things to do.  Needless to say, I got very little accomplished today, but I didn't have anything pressing to cross off my "to do" list today, so I didn't worry about it.

My dad called me on Monday and told me his hospital was being featured on "Good Morning, America" on Tuesday.  He works at a women's hospital, and a woman had given birth to two sets of twins in the same day...the odds of that happening are, like, 1 in 70 million.  So, GMA came to interview th parents and the older brother about their family that went from a family of three to a family of seven practically overnight.  Her husband said they still wanted to try for a girl.

She might've looked at him like he was crazy, but can you blame her?

Anyway, my dad called me this morning and told me that my trip to Houston was off.  I kind of had a feeling in my gut, even when I made these plans last week, that they would end up being changed.  I'm pretty bummed.  I haven't seen my dad in about 2 months, and that's a really hard pill to swallow after seeing him every few weeks since he moved to Houston, and almost daily before that. 

After N got home from school (sans B since he's at his dad's this week), I ran a couple of errands, and then came home to time him on his iPod.  Yes, it has come to that.  I have put a stop to video gaming in my house.  I'm tired of it.  I don't like how it's the only thing they want to do, and I hate that they get so obsessed with it that they freak out when something goes wrong.  The Xbox hasn't been on since Sunday, and it's been blessedly quiet.  N has used his iPod sparingly, as in he hadn't used it since Sunday until this afternoon...when I gave him 45 minutes.

That proved to be his downfall, because when I tucked him into bed tonight, he sat up almost immediately and (in a voice that was almost staged) said, "Oh crap!  I forgot to do my assignment for my literature circle tomorrow."  Enter the dragon mom who is furious because he had no problem reading for fun, playing his iPod, or watching "The Regular Show" (don't get me started...that show is 500 degrees of stupid)...but he couldn't do his homework?

The claws came out, and the punishments flowed freely from my mouth.  He'll be going to bed an hour early for a week.  He'll be without his iPod for three days.  The Xbox is still off the table, so I'm not worried about that.  But most importantly, if he has any late assignments or his grades drop, he's going to lose some baseball privileges.

This mom doesn't play.  And yes, it does sound harsh...but I have to do something that will make an impact.  He doesn't really care about the other stuff.  He'll gripe and complain I'm the meanest mom on the planet, and I might even get my third (or subsequent) "I hate you!" from him...but baseball?  That's hitting him where it counts. 

So, once again, I'm playing the bad guy.  It seems it's all I ever do, and I'm really hoping that someday both boys will realize that I wasn't "mean" to them because I enjoyed it, but because I was trying to help them grow into men who understand responsibility, respect, and how to treat people instead of how to excel at being a douchebag.

'Cause let's face it...there are far too many of those in this world and not nearly enough of the good guys.

They have to be good guys...they just have to.

Aubs

I'm a pitcher AND a belly itcher

No, really...I am.  Today, the boys and I met Angela and her boys for some baseball practice.  I'm pretty sure the kid who was getting private lessons in the batting cage next to us absolutely hated us.  Why?  Because my kids (namely B) are not quiet.  Ever.  Everything they do is loud.  Always.

We got there first, so the boys set up shop in one of the batting cages, and I set up shop, I mean my chair, in the sun so I wouldn't get cold.  When Angela and her boys got there, they all started playing/practicing in the batting cages while Angela and I marveled at our sheer awesomeness.  Who says you need to be good at baseball to make your kids practice?

Living proof...right here.

Well, until N hit B in the chest with his glove because B threw a ball at him when he wasn't paying attention.  Or something.  The true version of that story will never be known.  After making "baskets" with the baseballs into their bucket "home," we set up the rubber bases (brought to us by an extremely generous Aunt Katie & Uncle David) and the boys started playing a mini-game of baseball.  Angela and I took turns stopping balls from rolling into the parking lot and/or into the gutter.

Poor B...he's still pretty new at this whole "baseball" thing, so he was not having a lot of success with batting or catching.  Grounders?  All day long...but anything else made him frustrated and whiny.  Oh, was the child whiny.  Angela's oldest boy was super good with B, shouting encouragement and taking him back into the batting cages so they could practice alone while N flopped, bleeding on the sidewalk.

Oh, that.  The older boys were jumping over the bucket of balls as they "shot" them into said bucket, and N caught the back of his knee on the bucket and tore some skin off.  It looked a lot worse that it really was, but when I told him to "apply pressure," he didn't seem to realize that you have to apply enough pressure to stop the bleeding, and the pressure might hurt a little bit.  Luckily, Angela had a band aid that she claimed was 17 years old, and after the bleeding stopped, the "mature" band aid was a really helpful tool.

Our afternoon ended with some hilarity.  Angela was taking pictures, and she might've gotten video.  I was playing catch with the younger boys.  I use that term, "playing catch," rather loosely because I'm known to be like a lot of 7 year-olds and duck from time to time. 

B's all about batting; he'd rather bat than catch anyday.  He asked if he could just bat for both teams, and I swear...it took all I had in me to not burst out laughing.  I might've snorted and disguised it as a cough, which actually ended up being a cough because I choked.  I'm classy.  I know.  And modest.  Anyway, B wanted to bat, so I decided I'd pitch and his pal decided he would catch.  The older boys saw us, so they ran over to butt in, I mean play.  I refused to relinquish my pitching position.  I just traded gloves with whomever was up to bat, and eventually, I turned all hardcore and started playing without a glove.

Yeah, I'm totally that much of a badass.  We all had fun; there was a lot of laughing, and a lot of, "Just a word of warning...if you hit me with the ball when you're batting, I'm going to have an issue."  There was also a lot of ducking on the pitcher's part, and head covering when the bat and ball connected.

What?  I'm human.  And I'm playing without a glove or anything.  Plus, my headband kept falling off.  My head's too small.  It was so much fun, much needed exercise, and I'm pretty sure if anyone had been recording us, we would've ended up on somebody's blooper reel for sure. 

On the way home, N told me that Angela was "mom"ing him, and I laughed and said, "Look, kid...Angela has every right to "mom" you.  I "mom" her kids when we go to the park sometimes.  It's what friends do, and she probably does it better than I do."  He said, "No, I wasn't complaining...she's nicer than you are."  Yes, well...thank you.  And thank you, Angela, for nice "mom"ing my kids.  Apparently, they need it every now and then!

Next time we get together, I told Angela we need to bring extra gloves (and band aids and maybe vodka, hmmm...) so we can play too...'cause she was freezing as a spectator, while the rest of us were sweaty and out of breath.

Or maybe that was just me...after I sped through my squats tonight, that is.

Aubs

(Side note: The belly itcher part?  I got a mosquito bite next to my belly button this afternoon.  They seem to be year round around here...the Mayflies show up earlier and earlier.  I just wanted to be clear.  Pitcher.  Belly itcher.  I like to be thorough.)

The day without devices

This morning, I was forced from dreamland entirely too early by N, who wanted to know if he could watch videos on his iPod.  Apparently, a conversation took place, and I gave him the go ahead to rot his brain with Captain Sparkles videos about Minecraft.  I'm not even sure if that's accurate, but go with it.  A couple of hours later, at approximately 9:30, B came crawling into my bed...smooshing his ice cold piggies up against my toasty warm leg.  Nothing says, "Good Morning, Mom!" like ice-cold appendages. 

Simultaneously, my phone started buzzing.  Angela had messaged me to see if I had both boys.  I called her, since she refuses to put numbers into her phone until she upgrades, and we agreed that technology sucked the life out of our children and they needed to be outside.  We both removed video games and electronic devices from our children for the day, mostly because we're cruel and we deal in all forms of unusual punishment.  We made plans to meet at Kid Kountry, and I rolled myself out of bed.  My Keurig had just finished brewing whatever ridiculously bold blend it was that I'd blindly shoved in there when the power went out.

I absolutely HAD to take a shower, so I opened the blinds in my room and took a shower with the door wide open so I could see.  Unfortunately, I hadn't stopped to consider what I'd do to dry my hair, so the end result was basically what would happen if I stuck my finger into a live electrical outlet.  Needless to say, it wasn't attractive.  I loaded up a bag of snacks and water, since Angela is always prepared and I never bring stuff, and off we went.

Do you ever wonder for a split second if your power went off because you forgot to pay your electric bill?  The boys asked me if I forgot to pay it, but I told them the power was out all over our complex, and hoped that we'd be able to get out of the gates.  Luckily, they were open, so we made it to the park without major incident.

After well over two hours of glorious girl time and minimal child complaints, we parted ways with the intention of getting together again tomorrow, but for baseball instead.  I'm so glad I have Angela...can I just say that right now?  We are so like-minded, and I desperately hope our younger boys end up on the same team this spring.  I'm not holding my breath, but there are a lot of kids, so it's always possible.

We went to get an oil change (I'm supposed to get one at the dealership tomorrow when I get my visor replaced, but I hate listening to them try to sell me all the stuff I "need" so I paid a little more for one so I wouldn't have to listen, but I'm pretty sure I'll get stuck listening to them attempt to up sell me on something else instead.) and then went home so I could knock out four discussion boards before my 6pm deadline. 

We hadn't had enough of the great outdoors yet, so we went to the playground at our apartment complex instead, and the boys played some game that N made up with a bunch of the other boys, and I read "Sparkly Green Earrings" by Melanie Shankle who writes Big Mama blog.  I highly suggest reading her trials and tribulations of motherhood.  You'll laugh, you'll cry, and you might even do them both while reading the same sentence.  But, most of all, you'll probably say, "Thank God, I thought I was the only one who _____________."

I loved it.  And I genuinely hope there's more from her.  Plus, she lives in San Antonio, so we're practically family.  She obviously got all the skinny genes...which reminds me, I still need to do squats.

And while we're on the subject, I'd like to announce that I'm a mere 10 days away from finishing round 2 of the squat challenge.  I feel like I've sufficiently recovered from my gymnastics-related injury, so it might be time to reincorporate abs into my routine.

You know, if I can find them underneath all the flab.

Aubs

The day I realize my youngest son is deprived

Today was a gorgeous day, and the boys were in and out all day while I tried to find motivation to take them grocery shopping since our cupboards were getting pretty bare.  Plus, with B not able to eat about half of the stuff he could previously, our cupboards where B was concerned were covered in cobwebs.  Poor kid...I hope he can introduce dairy back into his diet in a month or two.

I finally mustered up the courage to drag them to the store, and, for the most part, it went really well...until I realized (after we were two stoplights from our apartment) that I had neglected to purchase toilet paper and eggs.  It was also a reminder as to why I always shop with a list, instead of just winging it.  There are tons of things I should wing.  Grocery shopping with two children in tow is NOT one of them. 

So, in a last minute scramble, I told the boys we were making a stop at Market Street to get toilet paper, eggs, and the stuff for B's nasal rinse thingy that is disgusting but wildly entertaining all at the same time.  B complained, but then wanted to take bets on how long we would be in there.  N told him to stop trying to gamble all the time, and I suggested the winner got to pick the movies for movie night tonight.

I won.

Disclaimer: I did NOT (despite what my boys will tell you) wander around Market Street for an extra 7 minutes so my time would be closer than their chosen times.  I really did "need" tortilla chips to go with the avocado that I had bought earlier.  Try eating avocado without chips.  I mean, yeah, your finger works too, but it isn't salty (I hope), and it hurts if you accidentally bite it...not that I would know from experience or anything.

I chose Ratatouille and Peter Pan, but discovered that Ratatouille was NOT in the case, so I'm hoping it's in Houston.  Logical, right?  Anyway, as we sat down to watch Peter Pan, B was puzzled, and started asking questions about the movie before it had even started.

And that's when I realized my baby boy had never seen Peter Pan.  Oh, he's seen "Hook" with Dustin Hoffman a dozen times or more, but the classic Disney version?  Never.  That poor child.  He laughed and laughed and laughed.  And it did my heart good.  And N thought it was hilarious, too.  Added bonus.

Since Ratatouille was MIA, I opted for another Disney classic: Dumbo.  We moved to the boys' room for this one, and B & I cuddled up while N half-watched and read his book for school so he'd be caught up for class on Tuesday.  You can read that sentence as many times as you want, but N chose to read his book for school over movie night.  I'm proud.  So proud.

B asked a ton of questions on Dumbo, too...and N looked at me in amazement as we both realized that he had never seen Dumbo either.  Where has my son been hiding?!  Under a rock?  Sheesh!  Neither boy knew The Little Mermaid, but DO YOU KNOW THAT IT'S COMING OUT IN 3D THIS FALL?!

I might have been entirely too excited when I saw that preview.  Also, there's a Monsters, Inc. sequel coming out...or maybe it's a prequel?  All I know is Mike Wazowski looks like a disco ball, and it cracked me up.  I'm so glad I have children so I have excuses to see Disney movies.  I'd probably go anyway, but it just makes life easier when you can look at other parents, shrug, roll your eyes, and give them the whole, "the things we do for our kids" look...when, on the inside, you know you're the one who dragged them to see _____________, and you KNOW you're more excited than they are.

Ahem, Tangled.

But then, after Dumbo, my littlest little broke my heart.  He started crying, saying he didn't get to spend any time with me this week.  He said he felt left out because I mess with his brother, but I don't mess with him.  I explained that N doesn't like to get cuddles or hugs; he likes when we joke around instead because he thinks he's too old.  I told B that one of the things I love about him the most is that he DOES love cuddles and hugs and being sweet...and I want to spend time with him loving on him instead of messing around and picking at each other while he still wants cuddle time with his mom.

He seemed doubtful, but agreed that he liked to cuddle, too.  And when I kissed him goodnight and gave him a hug and told him, "Goodnight, sweet dreams, I love you." he sighed and said, "This is my favorite part of the day...when I get a kiss and a hug from you."

How could that NOT melt you into a huge puddle?  I really hope my littlest little (and my biggest little, for that matter) know how much I love them, and love spending time with them...even if we're just all piled on the couch, watching a movie.  I literally recounted each evening this week, and how it was spent for B, just to prove that we DID, in fact, spend some time cuddling each day.

I'm not sure where this is coming from, and I'm not sure whether to be concerned or if it's normal, but I DO know if he wants cuddle time, he's going to get so much cuddle time, he'll beg me to stop.

Although...I don't think I'll ever see the day where he'll turn down a cuddle.  He's just that way...

And I love him for it.

Aubs

Baseball tryouts

This afternoon, I helped B get into all of his baseball gear for the first time.  N got dressed quietly, with an excitement that I only see when it's baseball season, and before we knew it, we were ready to head to the ball fields!

When we got there, we met up with Nana & Aunt Katie, who was in town for the weekend, and went to get numbers and field assignments.  Thankfully, they were on the fields next to each other, so it was easy to go back and forth.  There were a crazy number of 7 year-olds...B's number was 71, but the highest number I heard was 82.  N was 25, and I did see a few of his friends from last season on the list, but only 4 boys showed up for the later tryout.  N's really hopeful that at least one of the his old teammates will end up on his team this season.  That would be awesome!  His mom and I have a great time together, too! 

N did really well with everything they threw his way.  He even opted to pitch when the coaches asked if anyone wanted to pitch.  On a few of his pitches, a couple of coaches told him he was doing well, and when he was hitting, he was really connecting.  I was going between our fields, but I ran over to see how my friend Natalie's son was doing, and I ran into the coach who had been pitching.  He told me my son had done a great job, and I thanked him.  Later, as we were leaving, he walked by again and told N he had done really well.  I'm pretty sure N was grinning from ear to ear.

B was really nervous at first, but when he saw other boys ducking when the ball was being thrown to them, I think he felt better.  He was throwing hard and far, and was really good at fielding the grounders.  My sister got video of him when he was up to bat, and it was priceless.  He did really well...especially for this being his first time in gear and out on the field as a player.

He just hates his cup.  I'm pretty sure that's universal.

After tryouts were over, the five of us came back to my apartment to regroup, then headed to see cousin Joey at Joe's Crab Shack for dinner.  B got some playground time, N played his ipod, and the three grown-ups got a little time to talk.  It was nice...and delicious!

We wrapped up our night with Bahama Buck's for dessert, much to B's surprise!  After we got home, Nana & Aunt Katie left, and the boys played while I worked on school stuff and caught up on my dvr.

I just finished the last load of laundry, so now we're all set to relax for the next couple of days....except for when we go get my oil changed and go grocery shopping.

They're going to LOVE me when I tell them that's on our agenda.

Maybe I'll bribe them with another trip to the batting cages, or maybe a trip to Bonkers!

Aubs

Batting cages & The Princess Bride

After a night that was entirely too short, my day seemed entirely too long.  In fact, when B came in the front door, crying, after school because he got in trouble for telling the girl who sits next to him how to spell the "S" word (Side note: Why was she asking?), I sent him to his room, and joined him shortly afterwards.  We both cuddled up on his bed, and I told him we both needed to start over, so maybe we should just go to sleep and wake up on Saturday.

He was not interested, and I have no idea why.  Maybe it was because it was only 3:47...and OU still sucks.  (That never gets old.)

Instead, he opted to ground himself from the Xbox for 4 days, because I told him a month was too harsh of a punishment.  He was less concerned about video games and more concerned about whether or not he'd be allowed to go bat later that evening.

Long story short, I fell asleep on the couch for two hours.  I woke up to BOTH of them playing the Xbox, and I woke up really cranky.  Oh, and it was cold.  And N was fighting me, just like he did the other morning, on wearing pants and long sleeves to the batting cages that he claimed he didn't want to go to in the first place.  B was crying because he said he didn't want to go to the mechanical cages (he's never actually been, just watched his brother), and would rather have someone pitch to him.  I was the "someone" that was around, so that was a big negative.

N not only fought with me, but with his dad via telephone over his clothing choices.  Yes, I let him wear shorts to school if it's in the 50s, but only because he's inside for a vast majority of the day.  The sun isn't going down, the wind isn't blowing, the temperature isn't dropping...you know, all the stuff that leads to sniffles, snot, and coughs.

When we got to the cages in Colleyville, all the while keeping our eyes peeled for the "extremely dangerous escaped convict from Florida," they both started complaining about how cold it was.  Score one for Mom.  I got them going in the cages, and went in with B, showing him how to stand and swing, turning his body with the bat...and he did really well, especially for his first time.

I'm totally a baseball coach now.  I'm not.  Really, I'm not.  That would be a nightmare.  Or hilarious.

After literally 2 hours of batting cages, hands were numb, noses were running, and everyone was starving.  N lost his baseball gloves (he thinks they're at his dad's house) so we went to Academy to grab some more.  Just in case anyone ever needs me to play baseball: I have a helmet that fits, shoes that fit, and batting gloves that fit.  I'm pretty much professional now.

I'm happy to give autographs anytime.  It's no trouble.

We headed home, and when we got there, B thought we should cuddle on the couch and watch a movie.  I thought that sounded pretty great, so we all piled onto the couch, and I found "The Princess Bride."  They've never seen it, and I figured they'd like it.  N is in that stage where he claims he doesn't like something at all, but he's totally full of it.  He was giggling and smiling, but he absolutely hated it.  Naturally.  B kept asking who farted, claiming it smelled like pineapple, and then collapsing in giggles that are contagious.  The boy laughs like Chip & Dale.  You can't NOT laugh when you hear him getting started.

It was so much fun, even with the inevitable bumps, bruises, and injuries that occur when you have two boys who have no control over their limbs.

They get their "spaz" genes from their mother.  I own it.

Just call us the next "Three Stooges."  I think N's battling me for the one with the most hair.

Aubs

Call me old-fashioned, but...

I've never understood why Valentine's Day is such a big deal.  If you're in a committed relationship of any kind, shouldn't you be showing your significant other how much you care each day, and not just one day out of the year?  Maybe it's just me, but I think being open and affectionate with your significant other "just because" is way more romantic than a commercialized holiday.

But, hey, what do I know?  Some people probably think this is coming from someone who is bitter, cynical, and single...and they'd be right about the single part.  Everything else is just ridiculous.  I've never put a lot of stock into Valentine's Day, and I never will.  I give my kids gifts, but that's where I draw the line.

Unless I make heart-shaped muffins, but that's out right now as B can't have dairy for the next 2-3 months.  Why?  Because life isn't enough of a challenge, that's why.

Today has been crazy busy, as most Thursdays are.  I tend to leave writing assignments until the last minute, not because I procrastinate, but because I do my best work when I know a deadline is on the horizon.  For one of my classes, the deadline is a random 1:30 p.m. on Friday afternoons, which wouldn't be a big deal except I'm in class until 12:10 on Fridays.  By the time I get home, I have maybe 10 minutes to proofread an assignment and make my deadline.  SO, I make Thursdays my deadline instead, obviously because I'm an over-achiever who likes to turn in work ahead of schedule.

Or not.  Anyway, this morning, I made a list, and scribbled across items as I finished them.  Between the hours of 7:00 and 9:30 this morning, I took a test, wrote a discussion board, responded to three discussion boards, wrote 4 mini-papers, and then did another round of discussion boards for another class.  I feel that it was an entirely productive morning.

I have to admit, however, that the day kind of snuck up on me this year, and I was not prepared to give my two little Valentines anything this morning.  They didn't ask, even though they're used to coming to the table in the morning (on any holiday) and having something waiting for them, and for that, I am grateful.  After I finished my schoolwork and showered, I took off to make it right.  I'm phasing out the plastic cups in our house.  When the youngest member of the household is 7, I feel like glasses are good for everyday use.  Yeah, every now and then, one will break, but that's why you have extras.  Long story short, we need to use real cups.

Obviously, this is why my boys got super-cute, striped Tervis tumblers with lids for Valentine's Day.  I tend to steer clear of candy in general, but especially on "candy" holidays, so they got cups...and N got a new pair of Nike Elites, while B got new batting gloves.  And, let me just tell you, they were thrilled!  I don't even know (or care, really) if they said, "Thank you!" because N was too busy figuring out if he had any clothes to match his socks (He really IS mine, y'all!) and B was calling himself "Penguin hands" as he ran around in his batting gloves.  I don't have any insight into that one, aside from the fact that they're studying penguins in his class.  This morning he told me there were 17 different species of penguins, named 5, and then said, "That's enough, Mom.  I want you to be able to have something to Google later."

My boys.  They're so giving.

After I set up their surprises, it was time to go to B's party.  He invited me, while N told me I didn't have to come, which basically means he would rather die than have me show up.  While I was at B's party, the room mom set them up playing the most confusing game of BINGO I've ever seen.  It was awful.  I'm pretty sure that one of the moms (or maybe it was B's teacher) walked past me, mumbling about how it was a disaster.  After she left to go to her other child's classroom, B's teacher had me read a story to the kids with their names in it.  Each time I said a name, the kid had to read what was on the conversation heart on their desk.  It was super cute, and totally hilarious!  After it was over, B's teacher approached me and said, "Will you please be my room mom?"

So, I am.  For the rest of the year, I am 1B's room mom.  When the current room mom sent out an email saying she was moving at the end of February and asked if anyone would be willing to take over her duties, I'm not really sure why she just didn't send it to me.  I'm a pretty permanent fixture around there.  All the kids know me, and yet, they still ask my name each time I visit, then how to spell it, and when I spell out my name and then spell out "it," they groan and ask how I knew.

Because doing it at least once a week since the beginning of the school year doesn't establish a pattern or anything, right?

We went to the ball fields today to practice for tryouts on Saturday.  I think we're hitting the batting cages tomorrow, and then Saturday afternoon are tryouts.  My sister's coming into town, so I'm hoping to be able to snag some time with her...

And next weekend?  Well...next weekend, I'm headed to Houston to see my dad.  I haven't seen him since December, and that's the longest I've gone without seeing him in a year...easily.  I can't wait.

I also can't wait to get to class tomorrow to talk about current events, because I'm still irritated...

Who thought that kind of sentence would ever come from me?

Yeah, me either...

Aubs

I have a stalker...her name is Erin.

So, last night, I caught the end of the State of the Union Address, and I didn't want to "taint" last night's post with my thoughts, simply because I feel that Chris Kyle deserved his own post...he deserved that kind of recognition because he was, and is, a true American hero.

It should be said, now, before anyone gets all pissy, that I have always voted Republican.  It is not to say that I wouldn't vote for a Democrat if I felt he/she was a better candidate for the job, but I have not been of voting age to vote for a Democrat that I felt was a better candidate for the job...if that tells you anything.

To be fair, I didn't watch the entire thing.  I don't know if you know this about me, but I do have children, and to be able to watch anything without interruption only occurs when they're asleep or gone for the weekend.  Read: It does NOT happen during prime time television hours.  I turned it on right around the time that Obama started talking about gun control.  Besides, spending and budget cuts are all pretty much a foreign language to me.  All I know is Obama's genius plan ended up cutting my grant money for school, and I'm pretty sure we'll be in ridiculous amounts of debt until the end of the world...I just haven't checked in with the Mayans to see when the new "end date" is.

I knew, from watching the news and reading articles, that there were supposed to be several special guests at the State of the Union Address last night, specifically those who were victims of gun violence.  It had been reported that a child from Newtown was supposed to be attending with her mother, but that they wouldn't be in the chamber for the address, and, instead, would watch it from an alternate location.  To me, that kind of negates the whole point of being there, but at the same time, having a younger child sit through a State of the Union Address?  I'm a grown-up, and I can't deal with watching the whole thing...  I knew that the Pendleton's would be there; their daughter died a week or so after singing at the President's second inauguration, and there they were, front and center next to Michelle Obama. 

Here's where I got a little annoyed, and maybe it was just me and my emotions, but I know it wasn't.  Obama started talking about gun control, and he briefly mentioned Newtown, Connecticut.  THEN, he started talking about the Pendleton family, and went into detail after detail...including how the girl was shot in a park near his home in Chicago.  He briefly mentioned Gabby Giffords, and several cities throughout the nation that have had large numbers of victims due gun violence.  Never did he even mention Chris Kyle.  Not one word.  He didn't mention that the man who saved countless others with his sharpshooting skills was killed in a heinous act of gun violence at a shooting range where he was trying to help someone.  He didn't mention that the man, who was a hero, father, husband, son, friend, brother, soldier, and probably a dozen other things, was buried that day.  On the same day as the State of the Union.

He just kept repeating, "They deserve a vote." sounding like a damn myna bird.  It really pissed me off...not just because he didn't mention Chris Kyle, but because he only mentioned the Pendleton family by name, and gave details...about the Pendleton family.  For this "great" leader who constantly claims the race card (I find it to despicable when people play the race card) is being played against him to ONLY mention an African American victim by name, while the cameras were trained on her parents and Michelle Obama (smiling away), is the true definition of a hypocrite.  I'm pretty sure there's a whole "rainbow" of victims out there; (I'd like to think, ideally speaking) gone are the times where only one certain race, creed, or religion is targeted...gone are the days of racial profiling...or at least, I'd like to think so.  Gunmen simply don't seem to care what color their victims are or what gender or religion...It's all about the body count.

If it were only that, that would be one thing...but then he started talking about voter participation, too.  Enter the 102 year old black woman, sitting in the chamber, while Obama talks about how she waited for hours in Florida to vote, because she wanted her vote to be counted.  She got a standing ovation.  Granted, she's extremely old, and the fact that she has her wits about her enough to vote is truly awesome, but what about the other people who waited for hours on end, here in north Texas, long after the polls closed, waiting to make their voices heard?  I highly doubt that it only happened here...where was the acknowledgement for the rest of the nation who did show up to vote?  Do we not count because we're not that old, or is it the whole race card at work again?  I don't know, but what I do know is this:  I am not appreciative of a leader who claims that bigotry is one of the biggest obstacles a black man/woman can face, but is quick to use the race card if it benefits him.  I am not appreciative of him singling out one particular victim of gun violence when there are so many recent victims.

Another thing...did you see those green ribbons for Newton?  Remember how the nation, maybe even the world, donned green to show our support to the residents of Newtown?  Wasn't it awesome that the gesture continued at the State of the Union?  Oh, that's right...it didn't.  Green ribbons are apparently not for Newtown anymore.  They're the "blanket" ribbon color for gun violence.

I was appreciative of Marco Rubio's passion as he talked about what he thinks we need to do as a nation.  I think it's dumb that people immediately started dismissing any of the ideas he was suggesting when he reached for a bottle of water, looking a little crazed.  I do, however, give him serious credit for making light of it, calling it his own "Watergate" scandal.  Ba dum bum.  He and his party have good ideas.  Obama should listen.  Although I'm not really into politics, I will be interested to see who becomes the front runners for each party as the next election gets closer.  I realize I still have quite a while before that happens, but I like to look forward to positive change instead of the craphole I feel like we're stuck in for another 4 years.

Okay, I'm stepping off my soapbox now.  I've always been a bit of leader, and very rarely a follower.  It is something I hope my kids learn from me.  In fact, on the way home from the doctor's office today, I was telling N, "I hope, as you grow up, you take some valuable lessons from my choices in life.  I hope you grow to be a strong, independent man, but I hope with all of my heart that you don't become prideful, and that you're always able to swallow your pride and ask for help if you  need it.  Don't be stubborn and try to do it all yourself, like I do.  Real men, real women?  They know how to ask for help, so they don't drown.  If you learn nothing else from me, I hope you learn that lesson."  His response?  "Can I play my iPod?"  Sigh...

Speaking of followers, I was talking to my friend Erin today, and I mentioned something about being "Aubrey, party of one!" for the rest of my life, and she might've paid me the best compliment ever.  She said, "Yes I creepily feel like I stalk your life because I added your blog to my google reader, lol."  She's my stalker.  I have a stalker...and since I actually know her, that doesn't creep me out in the slightest.

So, now I know...I for sure have at least one follower!  (She also gave me permission to quote her, hahaha!)  She also asked me to document me wearing N's baseball cleats, since I'm trying to help him break them in, so look for that...maybe tomorrow.

You know, because my 10 year old and I wear the same size shoe...

Oh!  I got another variety pack of K-cups today.  Out of 35, 11 of them are the supa-dark, gajillion-bold, gag-inducing blends that I hate.  I also got a fair number of decaf.  The variety packs from Amazon are so fun!

It's like Forrest Gump says about chocolates...

You never know what you're gonna get!

Aubs

I've never been prouder to be a Texan

Last summer, right around the 4th of July, the pastor of the church I attend had a weekend dedicated to fallen heroes in our armed forces, and had a true blue American hero as his guest speaker.  His name was Chris Kyle.  Ever heard of him?  This man fought for the right to fight for his country, and once he started, he served four tours in hostile territory.  He is considered to be the most lethal sniper in American history, with at least 160 confirmed kills, and potentially hundreds more.  I was able to find his interview with Ed Young on youtube (Chris Kyle & Ed Young), and if you have an extra 40 minutes lying around (or even if you don't), I really think it's worth it to watch.  Both of my boys went to "big church" for this sermon, and for weeks, N talked about how cool it was to be in the same room as a real hero.  He is extremely candid with his life experiences in this interview, and I even downloaded his book on my Kindle, but have yet to read it. I will now. The deadliest sniper in American history...think about how many lives he saved. Think about how much evil he has removed from this world.

He not only removed evil, but he tried to help those who were suffering from PTSD, and that's exactly what he and a friend were trying to do when they both lost their lives.  They were at a gun range with a fellow former soldier, and were shot to death before the killer fled in Chris Kyle's pickup truck.  The shooter's sister called 911 and turned him in.  What another brave individual.

His funeral was yesterday, held at Cowboys stadium due to the number of people who wanted to come show their respect for this fallen hero.  The coverage of his wife's touching eulogy: her words of comfort to her children, her words to her husband that she never got to say while he was here on this earth, had me in tears.  The eulogies given by two of his best friends growing up were equally touching, while giving those listening a glimpse of their friend's mischievous side.  The number of his brothers and sisters who showed up to honor their fallen brother...well, military funerals (anything military, really) move me to tears in no time.

But what really got me was the amazing outpouring of love and support of all the people in our great state.  Kyle and his family live in Midlothian, just south of the DFW metroplex, and he was buried in Austin at the Texas State Cemetery.  Dozens of police officers, members of the patriot guard, and friends and family of this fallen hero became part of what might be the longest funeral procession in American history, as friends and family boarded charter buses to take them the 200 miles to his final resting place in Austin.  That, in and of itself, is touching...

When I turned on the television this morning, I (like so many others, I'm sure) became glued to the screen as tears poured down my face.  From Midlothian all the way to Austin, there were people...people lined up on the sides of the highway in the rain, hands over hearts, holding signs, and crying as this massive funeral procession passed.  Overpasses were seas of people, holding flags, saluting, and showing their respect for a real hero.  I have never seen anything like this in my life.  Even now, I'm tearing up...because hundreds and hundreds of people are lined up to honor this man who was killed for what?  God, this man is a hero! Not only did he serve our country proudly, without regard of his own life, but he died trying to help someone else through the aftermath of serving our great country in hostile territory...PTSD is real.  There is entirely too much of this happening in our country.

I freaking hate it..

Several of the reporters who were standing alongside the road as the funeral procession passed were unable to speak without their voices wavering, breaking, or even sobs slipping out as they tried to explain how emotional it was out there.  The vast majority of these supporters are just like me.  They don't know Chris Kyle personally or his family.  In fact, a lot of people have never heard of him...and some may not care.  That's their prerogative.

But so many people do care.  And it's obvious...you can tell when they take the time to go stand on the side of the road in the cold and rain, when they bring their children to honor a man they don't know because he's what a real hero is, and when they show up in droves like they did today, how can you not feel a sense of pride in our country?  His wife, riding in the passenger seat of the hearse carrying her husband's body, so she could spend as much time with him as possible before he was laid to rest, rolled down the window in the rain and saluted her family's supporters...over and over and over again during the 200 mile trip.  How can you not be proud and amazed at the strength this woman has?

I don't understand why people have to start badmouthing the dead.  Regardless of your personal opinions of the man or of his profession,  he died.  Unnecessarily.  He was trying to help, to help a man get some resemblance of his former life back.  Yes, he was a killer for a living, but by being a killer, he saved hundreds of innocent lives.  Hundreds of soldiers' lives.  But he wasn't just a killer.  He was an advocate for those who needed a voice, a voice they couldn't come up with on their own.  He helped families of fallen soldiers.  He loved God.  He loved his family.  He wasn't shy about admitting either of those.  And he was a hero.  A real hero.  Gun violence has to stop.

I've always been proud to be a Texan, but today, I was a little bit prouder.  Yes, I've been an emotional mess all day long, but you know what?  I live in the greatest state in our nation: the state that stops in its tracks to honor someone who served our country with honor and pride.  I'm proud of where I live, and I would never live anywhere else.  Everything is bigger and better in Texas.

That goes for heart, honor, and pride, too.

Aubs

I'm expensive...

That can be taken so many different ways, but I'd like to say (for the record) that I don't try to be expensive on purpose.

I have kids.  They need stuff...a lot of stuff.  They play sports.  They need stuff for sports.  They grow...too fast.  And then they need more stuff when they outgrow the stuff they just got.  Last week sometimes. 

Baseball "tryouts" are on Saturday, and neither kid had cleats that fit, so when they got home from school today, we went off in search of a good deal on cleats. 

We found some, and grabbed them super speedy quick: Having N's size in youth is typically unheard of, so I wasn't about to let those slip away.  Side note: If you ever need me to play baseball or softball, I can wear N's cleats.  Easily.  We're the same size.  We're fancy.  Also, I'd never wear his shoes...unless they were new or didn't require my feet being fully enclosed.  He has stinky boy feet.  Ew.  Gross.

After that, we went to Sports Authority.  See, I'm typically a glutton for comparison shopping AFTER I've made a purchase, so we had to go to two other stores, just so I could be sure that I spent a fair amount.  While at Sports Authority, I realized B would need a cup, and just as I was thinking it in my head, N noticed the rack of sliders/cups, and said, "Mom, I'm pretty sure my sliders are too small.  They cut off my circulation."

So, sliders and cups for all.  Well, for two because, thankfully, I'm not a part of that club.

My friend Angela messaged me saying she has a pair of cleats that might fit B, so that would be super helpful.  As far as I know, I'm flying solo on gear for B, and it doesn't come cheap, but he is so excited about being able to play...it's so adorable to hear him chatter excitedly to his brother in the backseat:

B: Will you still play with me?  I mean, like, will you help me on my drills and stuff before your practice or before mine or on days where neither of us have practice?
N: I guess so...
Me: B, you have to work really hard not to embarrass your brother.  No hanging all over him and saying stuff that you know embarrasses him....
N: YEAH!
Me: And you, big brother, need to chill out a little bit.  He's your brother, and he's going to embarrass you on accident sometimes, and you need to be able to just let it go.  If he does it constantly, that's one thing, but sometimes people forget...
B: YEAH!
Me: And you BOTH need to stop driving me crazy.  Okay, then.

The first store was mostly fine...the second made me wish I had vodka in my purse instead of water, and the third made me wish I had a hat with a straw.

Not that I'm, by any means, an alcoholic.  I rarely drink.  Most of the time, I say it would be a great idea, and then I get sidetracked or redirected until I'm past the point of thinking it's vital to my daily life.  Aside from a glass of sangria or something similar on occasion, I really don't drink.

I know.  The girl behind the mask isn't nearly as interesting...and yet, she's still expensive.

Or maybe it's just her kids.

Aubs

If I lived in Neverland...

I wouldn't even mind being called a pirate, since that's the only kind of grown-ups that are allowed in Neverland. 

I wouldn't have to send my kids back and forth.  We could follow the leader through the woods, and splash in Mermaid Lagoon, and explore the caves, looking for buried treasure.

All.  The.  Time.  Without interruption.

I would have a truly excellent tan...without any worry of skin cancer, because who get melanomas in Neverland?  Nobody, that's who.  Along those same lines, I would be totally, perfectly fit...because, again, who's imperfect in Neverland?

I'd have my very own Tinkerbell at my disposal, just in case I wanted to fly around and sparkle more than I already do...

N and I watched Peter Pan today, in case you hadn't picked up on that.  It was one of his favorites when he was little, third in a list that includes both Finding Nemo and Robin Hood.  His stepmom dropped him off without warning before 9 am, which was a little bizarre, but, lucky for him (and for me), I heard him knock.

We piled on the couch, curled up with some blankets, and went off to Neverland.  I love Peter Pan.  In fact, my dad IS the Pan.  Hook is another one of my favorites.  I've been known to yell, "Bangarang!" when excited on occasion.  Hook is the reason why I still refer to birthdays as "berfdays," and that's a special memory I have with my cousins, Clif & Colton.

We used to watch Hook and True Lies en route to Garner every single summer...until we got within 15 minutes of Garner, and then we'd start chanting "42" in hopes that we'd score our favorite campsite each year.  Those are the memories that transport me to my very own Neverland.  I swear, at Garner, time just kind of stops.  It's a magical place.

Know what else is magical?  This second round of squats.  I'm starting to add variations to my reps each day, simply for something else to do.  It doesn't take long to breeze through them when they're 50 or less.  I did them (most days) last week while N was eating his breakfast before school.  At this rate, my bottom half will be ready for summer in no time.  It's the top half I should probably focus on a little more seriously.

Since B comes home tomorrow, N is kind of excited...looking forward to being able to play with his brother.  I predict that this will last approximately one day.  I think, for sure, by Thursday, N will be saying he hates life and wishes B would go elsewhere, and B will be saying he wishes he was an only child.  Then they'll both ask me for a puppy and a backyard, and  B will tack on a request for a stepdad, however, I think that will probably be mentioned prior to Thursday.

We all have a fairly busy week this week.  I'm hoping to get them outside to throw and practice for their upcoming tryouts of sorts.  I'm also hoping both my dad and sister will be able to be a part of at least some portion of our weekend.  That's right, I'm hoping my dad will make his first trip back to Dallas this weekend since he moved nearly 2 years ago.  I really want him to come visit.  We always go to see him, and I love going down to Houston...but I'd love for him to come see us in our environment, too, where the boys have their own space with their own stuff to entertain themselves.

But right now, all I want to do is sleep.  And dream of Neverland.

Things seem like they would be much easier there...

Aubs

Basketball Season: Complete

Y'all, I wish I had recorded today's game.  It was something that can only be described as hilarious.  I'm pretty sure everyone was just happy to have the season come to a close.  While we were waiting for our turn, I looked up to see B's teacher passing out trophies to a team of older boys.  Her son is a middle schooler, and her husband coaches the team.  I just love her.  I really do.  She's so sweet and friendly, and she just loves B.  She actually emailed me the other day in response to an email I sent her, telling her I hoped B was a little less distracting since we're getting his nose blowing/cold issues out of the way, and she sent a reply saying, "I have noticed this week he has been much less of a distraction and even sits better during instruction.  I know it can be hard.  He is a sweet little boy, and it seems to me that he truly wants to do the right thing."  She's such a great teacher for him.

Anyway, when we got into the gym, I was sitting there, talking to N's dad, and he kept leaning over to tell me that the guy on the other side of him had horrible breath and wouldn't stop talking to him.

What did I do?  I kept up the conversation with the guy.  I know.  I'm so sweet, but we'd been talking prior to the game, so it would be rude to just start ignoring him.  They left after the first quarter anyway...and then Justin was like, "Man...I think I'm the one who stinks."

He was right.  He'd been cleaning a pool filter or something, and gotten something totally smelly on his pants.  Throughout the game, he kept saying, "I want to get away from myself!" and I kept agreeing.  I'm supportive.  Plus, he did smell.

The game actually started off really well.  All of the players who were there (2 boys stopped showing up in the last week, and frankly, I don't blame them) were trying really hard to end their season on a high note.  There was a lot of confusion during this game: the officials, the scorers, the coaches...nobody seemed to be on the same page.  We were the home team, but wearing "away" jerseys, and somewhere in the middle of the game, they switched us to "away."  It was massively confusing.  There were a ton of fouls and jump balls and hopeful money shots from half court that never had a prayer, but the kids kept insisting, "This is my best shot!  Give me the ball, I'll score."

N got in there and made a few shots (Read: people actually passed him the ball), got fouled, and even fouled a couple of times.  There was a lot more teamwork during today's game; I'd even venture to say there was more today than there has been all season...probably because the season is over.  N is a good player, but he doesn't get a lot of ball handling time because he doesn't get in there and play defense, he just runs around the outside, passing and shooting.  Since he's hesitant to get in there and try to steal the ball, I was super proud.

I was NOT so proud when the ref told him to turn around so he could see his number, and N just stared at him.  When the ref asked again, still no response.  When he did a third time, and motioned for him to turn around, N copped an attitude.  We probably need to work on that.  I know we need to work on that.

I was super proud when he made a basket down on my end of the court, and I got to see the huge smile of satisfaction on his face as he saw it go in.  He didn't even care that Justin and I were cheering him on using assorted nicknames.  He just rolled his eyes. 

The other team was a team they had played before, but I wasn't there for that game.  They have a couple of really good players, including a smaller kid who has an incredible three-point money shot, and this other smallish player who's fantastic at blocking and hustling up and down the court.  There's another player...that poor kid got beat to hell during this game, mostly his own doing.  He reminds me of a puppy who hasn't really grown into his paws yet.  Every single time I looked up, he was banging some part of his body on the court: his head, elbow, back, knee, face...you name it.  It got to be almost funny because I couldn't see how he could possibly hurt himself again.  He never disappointed.

Also, on the other team, there was this kid who was hysterical.  He was number 6, and I was thoroughly entertained by him.  He and N were matched up for the majority of the game, and one of the other kids on N's team (the one his coach apparently called a huge pain in practice on Monday) is a total ball hog AND thinks he's the boss.  He's bossing N around on the court, and he's wrong, and N's arguing with him, and I'm slapping my forehead, and N's trying to stay on 6, but the other kid keeps getting in the way. 

So what happens next?  Only the funniest thing I've ever seen.  It could've been part of a Three Stooges skit.  N's teammate is standing still, arguing with N.  N's trying to match up with 6...only he can't, 'cause 6 is actively skipping in circles (with a look of pure glee on his face) around N's teammate while they argue.   Even now, 12 hours later, I'm laughing hysterically at the mental image of this kid.  N looks up when he hears me laughing, and I can tell he's trying so hard not to get pissed (which he already is...at his teammate, not me...yet) and not to laugh.  Later he told me he knew I was laughing at the other kid, but it seemed like I laughed a lot this game.  I didn't laugh much more than normal...it's just the sidelines were a whole lot closer in this gym.

They lost, but for at least 60% of the game, they were winning.  Also, their coach was the ONLY coach I saw today who didn't have trophies for the players after their last game.  Instead, we're supposed to meet on Monday, during our normal practice time, to get our trophies and hang out as a team.  I bet we skip it...or go, grab the trophy and go.  CiCi's Pizza?  Not so much.  As we left, it started drizzling...so what's the best thing to do when it's cold and rainy outside?

Go bridesmaid dress shopping at David's Bridal, of course.  I enlisted my mom's help, after scaring her off initially (she still remembers the whole shopping for the Christmas party dress incident all too well), and off we went.  We found a few decent styles, but a couple were literally 10-12 sizes too big, so it was hard to tell how they would actually look if they fit.  She said she wouldn't be opposed to going to a different location, as long as we ate lunch first.

So, off to Olive Garden we went, for salad and Chicken & Shrimp Carbonara.  Oh, it was delicious.  It was just perfect for a rainy Saturday afternoon, and after we had full tummies, we went to try the dresses in a size that was a little closer to the size I wear.  It was still hard to tell, but we were both done for the day, so I emailed the group of them to the bride, and awaited her reply.

Of the six styles I sent, we both disliked two, so now it's down to four...but I think there are really two or three that are available in her colors.  I'd go look somewhere other than a bridal store, but with prom quickly approaching, anything I could find that would be coral would be entirely too sparkly, fluffy, or (if I went the cocktail dress angle) not entirely appropriate for a smallish outdoor ceremony in Arizona in June.

So, if you need me tomorrow, I'll be making calls and writing some papers 'cause it's what I do...

I actually got an email from one of my professors saying, "Why are you taking this class?  I'm pretty sure you've already mastered the techniques I'm teaching."
Who doesn't love to hear that?

Aubs

Little Ricky Retardo

Disclaimer: Today has been a really weird day.

This morning, after I made sure N got on the bus, and I finished getting ready for class, I prepared my huge Starbucks cup with two cups of coffee, and off I went.  As I was making my way to school, in a zigzag pattern (in hopes of avoiding traffic), I saw multiple people get pulled over for talking on their phones...even using bluetooth devices...and I was always in front of the cops who were trying to pull them over.  They'd wave me out of the way, and I'd gladly comply.  No tickets for this girl!  Yes, I just knocked on the coffee table...No worries.  I'm covered.

As I pulled up to a light to turn left, and proceeded to start turning, I caught a glimpse of a familiar face to the right of me, also turning.  I had to look to make sure, but it was a guy I went to high school with; I'd just seen him for the first time in a while around Christmas time with his wife and kids.  I pulled up next to him, and he looked over, but didn't recognize me (sunglasses), but as he pulled forward, he looked into his sideview mirror, seemingly puzzled.  I waved, and he seemed even more puzzled.  We drove on for a while, and then ended up next to each other at a light.  I looked over and waved, he looked at me like "What the?" so I took off my sunglasses, recognition dawned, and he rolled down his window.

I reluctantly turned down my XM and rolled my window down, too.  He said, "I was like, 'Who is this crazy lady waving at me?!'  I guess I accidentally cut a lady off yesterday and she waved at me, too, but not so friendly."  I was cracking up by this point, and said, "Nope, not a crazy lady...Just me!" and then we both laughed.  I wished him a good day, and he did as well, and we were off.  It kind of made my morning.

When my class got out 20 minutes early, I hit the liquor store for some cake vodka, Sam's for some water and chex mix, the library to return my library books, Bath & Body Works to get a couple of candles (2 for $22, and one of them smells like suntan lotion!), and then home in time to get the boys.  Once they got home, we took off for snowcones and Bahama Buck's.  N got orange & strawberry, B got blue bubble gum & strawberry, and y'all?  I got Big Red & Juicy Fruit!  SO good!  They have a ton of different flavors, and healthier/sugar free options, too.  They also have a ton of board games readily available for patrons to play while they're hanging out, eating their snowcones.

We've always liked Bahama Buck's, but I think we'll make inside trips a little more regularly now...especially since I found one close to my apartment.

After that, we ran by Starbucks to get some caramel syrup, so I can be my own barista, and then I dropped N at his friend's house to play.  B and I went home, he ate the remainder of his snowcone AND his brother's, and then his stepmom came to get him, and I got peace & quiet.  N didn't come home until well after 8:00, and he was being a turd.

He was also acting like a spaz, so when I called him "Little Ricky Retardo," I don't think he saw it coming, and he burst out laughing...which caused me to laugh until tears were rolling down my face.  He got indignant (without taking the fall OR acting hurt), and it didn't help.  I kept calling him "Little Ricky Retardo." and my laughter got a little louder and harder each time.  (I might still be on a caffeine high).  He finally said, "If I'm Little Ricky Retardo, that makes you Lucy Retardo!"  We looked at each other, and dissolved into laughter all over again.

His dad called a short time later, and after we worked out basketball details for the last game tomorrow, N was just about to hang up when I yelled, "Tell dad what I call you now!" so he did.  And y'all?  I could hear his dad laughing all the way through the phone and across the room...and if you know his dad, you know he's not typically that loud.

Oh, it was so funny...I'm still laughing now, and N's sitting next to me (playing Xbox), griping about how his brother messed up the game when he played earlier, and complaining that I laugh entirely too much..

And, you know what?  I'd rather laugh than be a crankpot...

And I haven't even opened the vodka yet!

Aubs

For once in my life, I took my own advice

I decided today should be a "recharge" day, so it was.  I opted to take a nap this morning, worked on a little homework in the afternoon, and took another nap while N played Xbox.

All in all, it was an incredibly fascinating day. 

N started a new literary circle today, and they Skype with one of the other schools in the district to work on it together.  That's pretty much all I've got.

I'm really struggling to come up with interesting tidbits today.

Baby E came over tonight for an hour or so.  He was less than happy, so it made entertaining him rather difficult.

Tomorrow, B is riding the bus home with N, and we're going to go to Bahama Bucks for some snow cone fun before he goes back to his dad's for the weekend.

N's last basketball game is tomorrow at noon.

I have to go dress shopping for the wedding sometime this weekend.

I miss my dad and my sister.  I wish I could go visit them soon.  On the upside, Katie will be up here next weekend, and there's a chance we'll get to see each other.  I'm holding onto that chance.

I've never really enjoyed Valentine's Day.  I realize it's this Thursday, and that's kind of lame.  Parties at school, Valentine gifts for the boys, entirely too much chocolate roaming the planet...yes, I'm one of the "weird ones" who doesn't like chocolate pretty much ever. 

There should be a holiday that celebrates the greatness of chips.

That's one I could really get into celebrating...

Aubs

I really should start sleeping more.

Maybe in some cultures, huge dark circles under the eyes are considered attractive, but I'm pretty sure that's not true in my case.  My skin, especially under my eyes is super translucent, so my circles seem more prominent even on a good day.  I had been in the habit of getting a lot more sleep; there was nobody turning into a pumpkin around here!

But then, N got sick right after school started again...and his temperature was so high, he was sleeping fitfully and waking up multiple times at night, causing me to also be awake at "dark o'clock" at any given time.  I never seemed to get back to my normal routine.  Even with him getting better and school starting again for me, it didn't seem to make a difference.

And now, I'm potentially starting a new adventure, where I'll be working during the day sometimes, and occasionally overnight.  I can't help but worry how that will impact my life at home as well as the cranky factor.  As much as I'd love this opportunity, I also don't want to impact the quality of life in my house in a negative manner.  Single parents should definitely work during the day for a reason.

I speak the truth.

After so many late nights in a row and no naps (I love naps), I literally fell asleep in a dress and heels, sitting up on the couch this afternoon.  That never happens.  Ever.  I woke up long enough to change, and was mostly asleep when N walked in the door after school.  The next thing I knew, it was 5:17, OU still sucked, and we needed to go to the store for bread and yogurt and juice boxes and uncrustables.

Because, y'all?  My 10 year old has been eating nonstop.  Yay, growth spurt!  He consumed almost half a loaf of bread, slathered with peanut butter, after basketball practice on Monday.  And, if that's not enough, B's middle name has been "Hungry" for the last three years or so.  I swear, those kids can always eat.  Always. 

Luckily, they like fruits and vegetables and yogurt and things that are considerably more healthy than not.  B's current favorite?  Nutri-grain bars.  He'd eat them all day long, if I'd let him.  He tries to sneak extras in his backpack for his "friends" but he slips up and essentially tattles on himself.

Gotta love kids.

And I have to start loving a little more sleep.  I finally watched "Pitch Perfect" this afternoon, and I wasn't really feeling it until the "No Diggity" scene.  It was definitely the turning point, and it ended up being a super cute movie.

I'm very (VERY) slowly working my way through my list of movies I want to see.  This weekend, while I'm kid-free, I might just take a day (or night) and get completely caught up on my DVR. 

I have to say...it kind of sounds a little on the "dream come true" side...

Aubs