Totally Taxing Tuesday

Today has been a day for the books, folks.  I typed a Facebook status earlier (it HAS to be Facebook official) that gave a brief overview of my day and left me exhausted.  Here’s a recap of the recap:

5:40 No, I don’t want to get up.

5:45 Push snooze again.

5:50 Fiiiiiiine.  So, I got up and turned on the water in the shower and stared at the grout between the tiles on the floor and contemplated life.  For 10 minutes.

6:20 Stumble out of my room half-dressed saying, “N, why aren’t you in the shower?  Your dad will be here in 20 minutes!  B, get UP!  You need to be eating breakfast right this very second so you will get big and strong.”

6:22 N stumbles blindly into the bathroom and bangs his shin on the cabinet.  I ignore the expletive.  

6:30 B finally stumbles into the kitchen and grabs a bowl, the milk, and a fork.  Clearly this is going to go well.

6:50 N’s out the door for breakfast with his dad.  B is pondering what he will do in his next life.  Know what he’s not doing?  TAKING A SHOWER.

7:00 “I’m leaving in 15 minutes!” -  Me  “No, you’re not.  You’re not wearing a shirt, your hair is messy, and I don’t have a lunch.” - Astute observations from the 9 year-old.    

7:24 Lunch is packed, shirt has been located, hair is sufficiently smoothed, and I even swiped on some lipgloss.  This is a decent morning.

7:30 B is at school, and I’m on my way to Denton…

I even had time to stop at Starbucks for a Skinny Vanilla Latte, and made it to class with tons of time to spare.  The peace should have been a clue…because once my professor got into class, she literally said, “Pop quiz, hot shots…” and passed out a quiz on the reading that nobody has been doing…the reading that I actually did yesterday.  I was proud.  I thought things were going great. Then she dropped the bombshell that my rough draft of my 25 page paper was due in a week.  Y.I.K.E.S.  In my other class on campus, we got into a delightful discussion about savagery and the early colonies in America and other fun stuff.  And then the “fun” began.

After I sat on the highway for 90 minutes trying to get home, I had enough time to dump my backpack at home and make a pulled pork taco for “lunch” before I went to pick N up from school (B went to after school care).  I took him to get a haircut…a haircut I tried to make an appointment for, but since I didn’t have a particular stylist in mind (because I don’t know any of the names!), I didn’t get one.  So we waited…and it would have been fine, except he had a hitting lesson at 4:30.  So at 4:04, Allison got him in her chair.  I explained the situation, we discussed what he wanted to do, and we were out the door 16 minutes later.  I like Allison.  I dropped N at his hitting lesson, and went to get B from after school care.  We stopped at 7-11 (Oh, thank heaven) and got bottled water…but the poor kid pulled the door of the cooler too hard and whacked himself in the side of the head.  Tears came next, and he was pretty waterworks-y for the remainder of the afternoon.  We went back to get N, took him home to start homework, grabbed a snack, and took off for football practice.  I actually got to sit at football practice and read a little of my next homework assignment, but that was the only resting point.  On any other Tuesday, I’d be dropping B at practice, taking N to his practice, then going back to get B, grabbing him some dinner and waiting for another hour for N’s practice to finish.  Tonight, several players had football games, so we were shown serious mercy.  Even still, we had to stop by B’s dad’s on the way home, and that took forever.  And then we still needed dinner, and I’m happy to say that they still managed to get into bed ALMOST on time.

It’s a “last day of summer” miracle, y’all.

It makes me tired just thinking about it, but I’d be lying if I said the chaos made me mad.  I need it to be slightly chaotic so I feel like I have a handle on all.the.things. 

Tomorrow I’m teaching music for half a day at B’s old elementary school…and then I’m working on my research project.  And Friday, a classmate and I get to go to the courthouse to look at records from the 1860s.  I’m still hopeful it burns. 

Kidding! (Mostly)

Even with all of the schoolwork and the kid stress, I’m finding time to giggle at the random smiles that pop up on my face at any given moment.  Why?  I can’t really say.  It’s almost fall. The cooler weather is so close (yet so far away), and we are solidly into football and baseball seasons.  I was able to spend time with family I see less often than I’d like, and I’ve had some great phone conversations with my dad about fantastic changes in his overall health and well-being.  I have some of the best friends a girl could ask for, boys who give me hell but still let me tuck them in at night (and ask me to cuddle with them), and a heavy dose of optimism following me around.  Oh…and someone who could someday be a special someone…when I see a new message from the "adorable idiot" my heart races, I get a cheesy grin on my face, and I remember that I still have a whole lot of life left to live.

Aubs

Not-So-Obscure Clueless Reference (at the end)

Sometimes a topic will come to me in the middle of doing totally non-related, and other times I sit here, staring at the blinking cursor thingy, waiting for...anything...to come into my head.  Clarification: I wait for something...anything (that I can write about) to come into my head.  I try to keep all of my "crazy" in my head, and only let out bits and pieces when they have something to do with a bigger picture kind of topic.

Today, B came home for the first time in a week, and first days are always rough.  They start off well enough with the picking up from school, snack, and homework, but then they take a turn right around bedtime when he wants to call his dad and stepmom.  I have no problem with him calling them to say goodnight, but I do have a problem with wanting to repeat call/text when they don't answer.  He's almost 10, but trying to convince him that it's not my fault they don't answer is like trying to convince a rock wall to grow.

It doesn't work very well.

When both boys are home, my stress level is on high alert.  The dynamic between the two boys is rough, to put it nicely, and it just goes downhill from there.  A counselor at B's old school once told me that kids test their limits when they feel safe and comfortable, and I'd like to think that's true...but I think he mostly just hates being here.  It's unfortunate, because he is such a great kid and he has an amazing heart.  I just wish I knew why we always have such a difficult time together.  He thinks I play favorites, and I really try not to...but it's easy to see why he thinks his brother is the favorite.

N is here all the time.  We have a routine that doesn't change just because B is home.  Our routine as a whole changes because we have another set of activities to figure into the equation, but N's routine is pretty set.  B is the wild card (something I love, but that also drives me crazy sometimes), and how smoothly our days run depend on his attitude, mood, and health levels. 

This week is off to a decent start: clean sheets, empty laundry baskets, a jumpstart on homework, and an optimistic outlook for the remainder of the week.  I have "For Love of the Game" on my dvd player ("Jane, I want you to know that I was so happy to see you my heart leapt." Siiiiigh), and the only other thing that would make tonight perfect would be...

Nevermind.  Not. Going. There.

Once again, we have something every single night this week.  I'm not complaining, I swear...the busier we are, the better it is for us.  But, ya'll?  I miss my friends.  I miss the sweet family that had to leave us to go to South Dakota so badly sometimes that it hurts.  I'm not the only one.  N mentions T on a weekly basis, and other baseball moms and I talk about them whenever we congregate. 

There are few times in life where you meet people who are so amazing, who fit so perfectly into the little cracks you have in your own lives, but these guys?  They were those people. 

It actually has me thinking about others who have been instrumental in my life: The ones who were supportive, the ones who loved me, the one(s) who got away, the one(s) who stuck around...and despite the bad eggs in my life, I know I am blessed.  I wish things would've gone differently sometimes, but I am overwhelmingly blessed...even if I am going through life alllllll byyyyy myselllllllffff.

Aubs

Calendars are my love language

I have a lot of love languages, it seems...but calendars are a huge thing in my life, and I find myself literally giggling and squealing when I find out that something fits into my calendar seamlessly.

Like spring break.

Let's just forget (for a minute) that it's still technically mid-September, okay?  Give me my moment.  As I was getting ready to shutdown my laptop for the night, I was looking at the huge wall calendar that is entirely too full of words and figuring out who B was with when conferences were scheduled in early October.  It doesn't really matter because we all go to every conference, but I still wanted to know.

See, when I went to school in the same district as a moody teenager, we were always given "Fair Day."  Okay, so it was technically Columbus Day, but we were always given a fair ticket, so the name kind of stuck. Last year, the district rocked my world (homework-wise) and gave them Friday AND Monday off for conferences and "Fair Day."  They did it again this year.  And that makes me sound like a hateful parent who doesn't want to spend extra time with her children, but I'm not.  I swear.

We spent all.the.days. together this summer.  We're still sick of each other.  And then we had a 3-day weekend, like, two weeks ago.  It's so much together time, and that's fantastic, BUT we are still pretty full on our quotas of "family time."  Luckily, there will be baseball and football practices and games to keep us occupied, and I'm not going to be disappointed about turning off my alarm for two extra days.

BUT, the part that had me squealing for joy is Spring Break.  Without fail, the boys always have Spring Break one week and I have it the following.  NOT. THIS. YEAR!  For once, the calendars have aligned and given us the same week off.  I realize I'm a grown-up and I shouldn't be excited about Spring Break, but I am.  Deal with it.

The good news about my calendar is that I'm almost to the end of September.  The bad news about my calendar is that I'm almost to the beginning of October, and October is going to kick my butt. 

In other news, my sister, brother-in-law, and mother came over to join N and me for lunch this afternoon.  I made the Pioneer Woman's Spicy Dr. Pepper Pulled Pork, and N was unsure about how delicious it smelled.  In fact, he said it smelled downright awful and walked around the house spraying a continuous stream of Febreeze behind him.  The end result was way worse than the delightful smell of pulled pork. 

In case anyone was wondering, he ate a TON of it.  He deemed it delicious, and although he refused to eat baked beans or spinach salad, he did eat the pork.  And he said it was good.  And then he helped to clear the table and load the dishwasher.  I was worried he might be a pod person.

After lunch, I roped my mom into helping me hang the last of the pictures that were leaning against various walls, and it made a huge difference.  N also decided to hang things in his room...with push pins: two world maps and a couple of flags.  I was sitting on the couch, talking to my sister about Thanksgiving, when he came in and started asking opinions about maps.  I was hateful and mean, and totally wrong.  I hear about maps all the time.  I get sucked into debates and discussions and get shot down for voicing my opinion on the regular, so when he came in and asked opinions, I bit his head off.  My mom and my sister both called me out for being mean, and N went to his room.  I apologized after they left, and he said it was okay.

Then he ate all of the homemade cherry cobbler I'd made for dessert.  Like, literally, an 8x8 pan of cobbler.  GONE.  I guess it was deserved?

I hope it was good...a bite would have been nice.

Sigh.

At least there's almost a whole peach cobbler left.  I did that on purpose...he's not a peach fan.

Mom win.

Aubs

Suprising Aubrey...WHY DO THEY KEEP DOING THIS?!

It seems like each day I woke up this week has been slightly worse than the day before.  Thursday morning was rough, but it was a breeze compared to Friday.

Thursdays are one of our busiest days this fall.  Not only do I have to be on campus on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but I have homework deadlines, and N has doubleheaders several weeks in a row.  This wouldn't be bad if we were still on summer break (Thank sweet baby Jesus we're not), but it makes for some rough mornings on Fridays.  His games are 1:45 minutes long, so when his last game starts at 8:00, once the coach does the wrap-up and we get to the car and load it up and start to head back to Coppell from Euless and inevitably have to grab some sort of food item on the way home to shower and get ready for bed, it's 11:00.  EASY.

This week, N was behind the plate for the majority of the first game.  He hadn't caught since April, so it was a big deal for him to be back behind the plate.  He won't admit it, but he did well.  There was a passed ball he should've stopped and a pop-up he should've gone for, but he did make a couple of beautiful throws to 2nd to catch a runner stealing.  It was a respectable first time behind the plate in a while.  They won the first game, 12-3.  Their opponents were good, but they were better...all around.  They were worn out, though, after the first game, and the second team we played was fully rested.  Their skill level was definitely higher, but they weren't better either...baseball just went their way that night.  N made some great hits, but each time the ball made a beeline for the right fielder's glove.  He was disappointed, but he made some serious contact.  The bases were almost always loaded, but we just couldn't score.  We lost the second game 9-1 (thankfully, it wasn't a shutout, but just barely!), but we're still 3-1 so far.  Next week, we only have one game...but it's the late game.  UGH.  Also, I sneezed for practically 4 hours straight.  Or sniffled.  Or hacked.  It was really classy.

When I woke up on Friday, I was pretty sure that I was a zombie.  N was, too, and it made for a terrible morning.  He got off to school with as little drama as possible, and I went straight back to bed.  No shame in my game...I was feeling worse than I'd felt all week.  Allergies.  Y'all, they're killer.  It turns out I wasn't alone.  B was having a terrible time at his dad's, too.  He missed two days of school (after coming home early another day) and two days of football practice.  He has been miserable.  The allergy shots he's been taking are working, but they leave him feeling pretty crappy these days.

Friday night, N and I decided we were going to bed early so we could get some rest before his practice Saturday morning.  I was in bed early.  N...not so much.  He was a major crankpot this morning again, and I told him "Nope.  Not doing it."  I dropped him at practice and went to run a couple of errands.  When I came back, it was sprinkly outside, and I walked across the field to deliver some drinks/snacks.  On my way back, I noticed two very familiar looking people who weren't supposed to be there: My SEESTER and brother-in-law!  They live in Houston, and I don't see them nearly as often as I'd like. 

I shrieked and took off running across the field!  They came up to Dallas for the weekend to see Garth Brooks (7 concerts, 4 days...crazy man, but awesome entertainer!) for their wedding anniversary, and decided to check out N's practice and B's flag football game during their free time.  We hung out in the rain for a little bit, then they came back to our house when practice was called early.  We grabbed some lunch, and then we found out there was a rain delay on B's game, so they weren't going to be able to make it for the game.  Bummer!

We're going to hang out tomorrow for lunch, though!  I can't wait!

They're getting pretty good at surprising me, and I told her I was going to start being pissy about it (instead of excited) so they'd stop doing it...I'm pretty sure it would only make them want to do it more often.

All part of my plan...

Aubs

Come. On. Fall.

The allergy haze has continued today, and it was so bad that I actually resorted to Benadryl, which resulted in a VERY long morning nap that was entirely unintentional.  It totally messed with my day, and I'm still tired.

So, when I read the article saying that allergy sufferers were mostly screwed all winter thanks to the Noah-like conditions of the spring, I almost cried.  We. Will. Die.  And no matter what, I have to have a real Christmas tree, so we will suffer for our cause.  It has been decided.

Man.  I can't wait to use the fireplace.  I realize it was 97 today, and the days of using a fireplace are in the distant future, but I'm ready.  I was even googling "cords of firewood near me" before class yesterday.  I mean business.

I busted out my Keurig and apple cider/hot chocolate pods for the boys.  I am READY.  Come on, fall!  Sheeeeeesh!  My plaid shirts are crying "wear me!" and all of the hoodies have been freshly washed and placed in the hall closet for easy access.  Let's do this.

But only if allergies can just go away.

I was talking to a friend earlier today about how sometimes relationships just change, about how everyone wants the kind of love they can't live without...not the love they can simply live with.  I knew there was a song with that same premise, and that I had it...somewhere, but I couldn't figure it out.  So, while I sat at N's hitting lesson, I had my phone on shuffle, and BOOM!  There it was.

Good ol' Clint Black.  Man, they just don't make country artists like they used to...I'm not saying all of them are awful now, but what in the world is up with the whole "rapping mid-song" craze that's going on with newer artists.  Luke Bryan, I'm talking to you.  Sometimes you sound like a muppet...but when you rap, there's no question.  If muppets rapped, they would sound like you.  It's too bad, because I can totally get behind "Crash My Party" and Strippin It Down."  Soooooooo behind them.

There's a reason why I skip through songs until I get to the George Straits and the Tim McGraws and the Clint Blacks.  They get it.  They're "classic" to a 34 year-old.  They've stuck it out with the same women for decades...and they still love each other.  Everyone should have love like that at least once in their lives.

Ideally that kind of love will come around when you're ready for it, but sometimes it comes too soon and scares the crap out of you.

Not that I know anything about any of that.

Aubs

Gnarly Allergies

Allergies are in full swing around North Texas, you guys.  I knew it was coming, but I was hoping against all hope that they would bypass at least one of us.  Sadly, we're 0 for 3.

B having issues isn't a shocker because the boy is a walking ad for "allergic to all things."  He gets allergy shots tomorrow, and hopefully that will fix him up in a heartbeat.

N doesn't have issues too often, but when he does, they are easily remedied with an allergy pill.

And then there's me.  I think everyone in class (and anyone I spoke to on the phone) today thought I had the plague.  I didn't feel bad, and I could breathe pretty well...as long as I remained standing.  My professor would be talking and I'd just randomly stand up for 10 seconds, take a deep breath, then sit back down...and hold it.  Luckily, I wasn't alone.  I think I said "Bless you!" at least 65 times in my two on-campus classes alone.

On the way home, I got a call from B's school.  It was B saying he felt like crap and maybe he should come home.  I told him to tough it out...leave school early, no football practice.  He agreed.  And almost an hour later when I finally got back into Coppell, the school nurse called again and said he was just not feeling well and I should probably come get him.

Y'all, he bounced into the car and asked if we could go get Sprite and if he could have about 18 different snacks.  All  of this in the 90 seconds in took to get from the school parking lot to the alley behind our house.  He hopped on the couch and started a movie.

Sick, my butt.  When I told him to get ready to go get N at 3:10, he started the whole, "I'm siiiiiiick" nonsense.  He was less than pleased with my harsh reply: "Dude, you're not sick.  You're not running a fever.  You're not puking.  You're eating all.the.things.  You have allergies.  But guess what?  We all do...and it sucks, but grab another box of tissues and power through it."

Meanest. Mom. Ever.

His stepmom picked him up a couple of hours later and reported that he was throwing passes and having a blast at football practice.  I'm sure glad he enjoyed his afternoon off.  It will never happen again unless he can show me a respectable fever or puke on command.

I rocked my purple glasses today, and I think I like them.  It definitely gave my poor little eyes a break, although they totally messed with my depth perception.  I've always had two recurring fears when I dream at night: One recurring fear is driving a car that only goes in reverse and not having any breaks or way to slow down.  The other recurring fear is having one leg not work right and tripping over everything.

Second. Fear. Came. True. Today.  It wasn't that it wasn't working, but I'm not used to wearing glasses for anything aside from taking the boys to school in the morning or working on my laptop at home.  My depth perception was totally off (maybe it has something to do with the frames...I don't know).  BUT I felt like I was totally trashed and unable to make my feet work.  I felt super low to the ground, and while this might be true anyway since I'm 5'4 (1/2, thank you very much)" I felt like I was matching up with sideview mirrors on the cars in the parking lot.  It freaked me out.

And then I met a curb.  I knew it was coming.  I saw it in front of me.  And I stepped WAAAAAAAY too high.  It was funny (I will admit), and I managed the stairs inside the building just fine...but outside?  Y'all, I think something is wrong with me.  Or my glasses.  Or me.

At least I don't have to worry about them making an impact on me falling out of my bed.  My pillow walls are in full force tonight.  I swear, I'm going to have a really hard time if I ever decide to be in a serious relationship again where I'm expected to share my personal space.

Aubrey is actually Greek for "Does not share well with others."

It's a fact.

From Snapple. (Snapple Fact #63099)

Aubs

Ancestry.com is my archenemy

Listen.  I have a lot of things in my life.  My calendar has all the colors of the rainbow on it, and even some of the originals' sub-colors.  I would get up and count, but that would require effort and I've already done abs and squats and some sort of cardio thing that I quit approximately halfway through because I've already done abs and squats and it's good to have goals, so why do it all in one night?

I'm pretty sure I'm going to wake up tomorrow with some serious definition on my abdomen and long, toned thighs.  It's pretty much guaranteed.

Anyway, I got up and counted and I have 17 different colors on my calendar.  17 different activities or subjects that require my attention. Check that.  I have 18 different colors on my calendar.  Each kid has their own color for school since they're in different schools, and then there's one for the district...plus I have 5 for my school stuff, so that leaves 10 additional colors for a variety of things.  The point I'm making here is that I don't have time to let ancestry.com suck the last bit of life out of my soul searching for someone who seemingly does.not.exist. simply because I have to do ALL.THE.THINGS.

So, this local history class I'm taking is really interesting, but I'm an idiot because I wasn't thinking I really wanted to do a graduate-level paper this semester and the professor clearly had different ideas.  I'm supposed to be compiling information on this person who was hanged in 1862 because he was suspected to be a member of the Peace Party, and Southerners weren't on board with all of that "everybody's free" business.  I may be born and bred in Texas, but it doesn't mean I agree. Okay? Okay.  SO. I looked up this person, and I couldn't find him.  I mean...anywhere...even in the required reading he seems to have two different names, so when my professor asked if anyone had a "dud" for a person, I raised my hand and said I wanted a new one.  She said to email her as a reminder, so I did.  And, ya'll?  She's a hoot, even when she doesn't realize it.  Our email exchange went something like this:

A: Professor, I'm emailing you to remind you I need a new person.  Aubrey (Not Elizabeth)
P: Aubrey (Not Elizabeth), you can expect a new man by supper time.
A: Oh, if only I had a new man around supper time...it would be a vast improvement over the non-existent/invisible one that only appears in my head.
P: I've been married for 28 years - sometimes the man in your imagination is the better option!
A: Haha, I've been single for 6...I have one kid who wants me to get a boyfriend and another who wants me to get a husband who will go grocery shopping first THEN pick him up from school.
P: Oh, I want that, too!  Mine just goes hunting and...your new man is <drum roll here> Jonathan Edmiston.  I do hope he's better than your last one, invisible or otherwise!

Seriously. Dying. The whole Aubrey (Not Elizabeth) thing is because she's determined to call me Elizabeth.  She calls the role "Aubrey (Not Elizabeth) and most of my classmates call me the same thing.  I don't mind...in fact, I think it's hilarious.

Know what's not hilarious?  Ancestry.com.  I don't get it.  I don't get the thrill and excitement of the whole genealogy thing.  I know it really floats some peoples' boats, but it just doesn't get me excited at all.  I managed to come up with a family tree of sorts, but that was after finding the whole "Search public trees" option.

That's something I can totally get behind.

Tomorrow is school picture day for B.  I told him he had to wear something nice on top and he could wear a t-shirt underneath, so as soon as he finished pictures, he could shove it into his backpack and ignore it.  He asked to call his dad, then stepped away as he lobbied for THEM to agree that he should be able to wear basketball shorts.  Nice try, squirt!

Speaking of "Squirt," I picked up my new glasses today.  When I tried them on for him, he said, "Oh, hey, Aunt Katie!" Since he continued to call me "Aunt Katie," I have continued to call him "Squirt."  I don't know which of us is going to break first, but I bet it won't be me!

On the N front, I got an email from a teacher today saying she really enjoyed his sense of humor, but that she was worried about whether it might be impacting his ability to get work done.  I replied, telling her I take his school work very seriously and am happy to be in his hula hoop and nag him to death because it's one of my great joys in life.  She sent a reply saying she laughed as she read my email and said she was dreading trying to get information out of her boys as they got older.  She has no idea!

I think we'll be friends.  I'm not sure if we'll be as close as I am with the ladies that have taught N over the last two years, but we're going to get along just fine!  As an added bonus, it will make N unhappy and miserable, and I feel like that's only fair since living with him is such.a.treat.  He's a treasure.

He's officially on notice: one more email or issue at school and we say goodbye to baseball.  Not only that, but all that money burning holes in his wallet for an Xbox One will go to me to compensate me for a small portion of the baseball shaped drain that has been funneling money out of my bank account at an alarming rate.  I think he finally realized that Mom. Doesn't. Play.  He also made the decision to switch out of Spanish.  When I asked him about it, he said, "Yeah, I'm going to go ahead and say that was one of the top 7 decisions I've ever made in my life."  I'm not sure what the others are, but I bet they're reallllly good.

In other news, I've spent more time than should be allowed watching the first seasons of Scandal.  I'm still not sure I'm fully on the band wagon here, but I do think it's growing on me.  You know who it ISN'T growing on?  My children.  N says, "I don't even know what that show is, but I HATE IT.  What's with all the camera clicks and projector sounds?"  (How does he even know what a projector is?)  B says, "Mom, that sounds like a bad show."  (Kid...you like the stupid shows on the Disney Channel.  Clearly your opinion is warped.)

I use it as a reward system: Watch 3 episodes, read 4 pages.  Watch 2 episodes, read 5 pages.

I don't think it's making me nearly as productive as I should be, but those little blurbs about what's coming next don't really give me a lot of information.  I have to watch to find out if I'm going to miss something important...

Duh.

Aubs