We Interrupt This Memorial Service...

Yeah, Yeah, I know. The world watched while Michael Jackson was laid to rest today.

Big deal.

In my world, we buried a different person today. My Grandma Alice.

Grandma Alice never once did the moonwalk. She did, however, use a walk-er. But that's not really the same. And Grandma Alice, on occasion, wore TWO white gloves. But neither of them was ever sparkly. Michael and Grandma both had very white skin. But Grandma Alice was born that way.

Yet, for the rest of my life, when I see or hear anything about Micheal Jackson I will immediately think of my Grandma. I'm not sure how she'd feel about this. Now that I think about it, she DID own a jacket with quite a lot of zippers. Hmmmm.

Today was a tough day all the way around. On top of a very sad funeral, I also took baby Paige for her 1 year checkup. The checkup included shots. Three of them. She was an excellent patient. But still. Three shots. Bummer.

After the baby's appointment, I (1) fed boy and self, (2) showered self, (3) bopped cranky baby on hip. 67 times, (4) met new babysitter and gave tour of house, gave overview of baby schedule, and gave subtle warning to not kill baby, (5) drove boy to friends house to swim while mommy buried/mourned. All of this occurred in 1 hour and 15 minutes. Yes it did. I know. I amaze even myself. I even showed up to the funeral with matching shoes. AND I was wearing both earrings. Folks, "Motherhood" should be an Olympic sport.

This evening, Dave came home from work to find me curled up in the chair with a sleeping baby in my arms. He suggested we go out to eat dinner. Probably because the kitchen was suspiciously empty of anything resembling food. That, and I think I looked like I could use a margarita.

So, we loaded the kids up in the stroller and walked to a nearby Mexican food restaurant. Dinner was awesome.

First, William COLORED. Let me say it again: HE COLORED.
This might be the first time in his life he's decided to color on his own. No bribing or begging. He just colored. This is serious. I've said it before: aliens have taken my boy and left a cyborg in his place. And mommy loves her new cyborg.

Next, Paige thought it would be excellent to play Peek A Boo with herself.

This would have been mildly cute, except that every time she did it, THIS was her reaction:

Hysterical hyena-type laughter. Which then made us laugh. Which made her do it all over again.

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This went on for quite some time.

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Which was fine with me. Because, mommy had a hard day saying goodbye to Michael Jackson *damn!* No! I mean Grandma Alice. See?! I'll be doing this the rest of my life.

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Sorry Grandma. You know I loved you. If you see Michael up there, tell him he stole your thunder. And tell him that was just rude.

Scouts Honor

A Boyscout is:

• Trustworthy
• Loyal
• Helpful
• Friendly
• Courteous
• Kind
• Obedient
• Cheerful
• Thrifty
• Brave
• Clean
• Reverent

This is the Scout Oath. It also happens to be the perfect description of my husband.

He is the personification of the Boyscout Oath. I'm serious. He is everything you read there, and more.

He has lots of tools and can fix anything. I mean anything. Anything at all. He even has a small toolbox in his car - lest he be away from home when something breaks.

He takes the trash out. Without being asked. And he cannot walk past a burned-out light bulb without immediately replacing it. Need bugs killed? He's your man. Vehicle maintenance? No problem.

And no, you cannot have him. He's mine. I have the legal documentation to prove it.

Have I mentioned he's a good daddy? No? Well, he's that too.

These kids are crazy about him. When he arrives home at the end of the day, they squeal and run to the door to greet him.

And tomorrow my Boyscout will be a pallbearer at my grandmother's funeral.

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Do they make a Good Husband merit badge?

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No? Well, they should.

10 Things I Learned Today

1. Weed eating is dang hard. Also, weed eating is a skill. One I do not possess. My poor grass. If it were a person, it would be wearing a bag over its head. And it would be weeping.

2. Little boys love cookies with sprinkles. Mommies love little boys with freckles.
3. An infant can de-skirt her momma in an instant. Multiple times per day. Sometimes in public. Also, mommy should buy prettier underwear.

4. When given a brand new pair of goggles, a five-year-old will swim anytime, anywhere. And I mean anywhere. Like the bathtub.

5. Goggles, for William, are like some sort of super power booster. Enabling him to overcome all fear of water and trying new things. "Hello diving board - here I come!"

6. The real Mrs. Robinson lives! And so does Mr. Robinson! And all 4 of their babies! They were sighted Wednesday morning enjoying the birdbath. And Wikipedia said only 25% of baby robins survive. Ridiculous! Clearly, they didn't take into account the fabulously nurturing environment of Brush Creek Road.

6. Tiny baby newborn kittens are the cutest thing on the planet. Period. These particular kittens - born 6 weeks ago at my mother's house - make me want to weep. And lactate. Seriously.

7. Having a mother who will make Thanksgiving dinner in July "because that's your favorite meal, and it's your Birthday" is beyond a blessing. Also, can someone say 'spoiled'? Oh, and she does this for all of the children. And the husbands/wives of the children. I know. Can you believe? I know you want her for your own mommy, but you can't have her, she's mine.

8. Writing an obituary for someone you care about is much much harder than rambling on and on about stupid stuff on a blog.

9. When Blogger has a quirk and does not allow me to upload a single picture from today, it makes me very angry. So angry, in fact, that I will utter a curse word, or two, or seventy.

***Update: Some pictures were uploaded today, Monday. I no longer have a hit out on Blogger.com and his mother***

10. Blogs are very boring without pictures. And honestly, you would've DIED over the kittens. Seriously.

Independence Day

This is my grandmother. Alice is her name.
And that chubby kid there in her lap? That's me. 34 years ago.

My Grandma Alice died today. She was 85 years old.

She lived some kind of life. Her mother was deaf, so grandma was removed from the home and placed in an orphanage. Her mother, in order to be near her, got a job at the orphanage. And that's how she grew up. Institutionalized, but still near her mother. Some story, huh?

She met my grandfather during WWII. They became pen pals, fell in love in their letters, and when he returned from war, they got married. Can you imagine? She moved with him from Washington DC to Oklahoma. Together, they had FIVE CHILDREN in FIVE YEARS. Now, I'm not going to lie to you, grandma was a little nuts. But, wouldn't you be if you had 5 children under the age of five in your house? Yes you would. Admit it. In fact, you would've sold at least two of them on eBay. She would've too... but they hadn't invented the Internet yet.

Grandma raised up those kids, divorced her husband at the age of 50, and remained single for twenty five years. Then, at the age of 75, she re-married. They had a church wedding. Bouquet toss. The whole deal. And you know what? They met at THE GYM. I would not kid about such a thing. She and Jerry were happy for 5 years, until cancer took him. She was never really the same after he died. I always thought it was sad that the best years of her life were at both at the end, and so brief.

Eventually, she moved to an assisted living center. Her health deteriorated some. Her memory wasn't as good as it used to be. She relied on people to help her get around. Even help her with the bathroom. This once independent, single gal had become very very dependent on others. She hated it.

So, today, in some ways, is good. I say 'Happy Independence Day, Grandma'. I hope you're taking good care of yourself now.

Great Day Except for the Vomiting

Has anyone seen my child? No, not the squishy baby one. The other one. You know, skinny arms, skinny legs. Sweet-as-all-get-out. The one who's afraid of trying new things.

Here's a picture in case you forgot what he looks like:
Here's the deal: an alien has taken over this skinny-armed, skinny-legged body and left a brave, adventurous 5-year-old in his place. If you see the ninny that used to live here, tell him we don't want him. We like this alien version much better.

You see, today our sweet neighbors invited us to our neighborhood country club pool. We've been looking forward to it. A fun time with friends, plus, Will needed to practice swimming. He just learned to swim without floaties on his birthday - just 2 weeks ago.

Soon after jumping in, William informed Dave that he now knew how to swim underwater.
Before, he was strictly a doggie-paddle-type swimmer. Today: underwater. Just like that. No prompting, begging, threatening. He simply decided he could do it. And he did.

I wish you could see Dave's face better in this picture. His mouth is wide open as he watches The Alien just swim away. With his face under the water.

Oh, but it gets better.

Next, Will decided that he really needed some goggles. My God. Miracle. We've only been trying to convince this child to try goggles for, oh, like 3 years. Why today? Again, Alien Abduction is our only working theory.

Here they are looking at each other under water. I know if I hadn't taken pictures you wouldn't believe me.

Now, William did have a little trouble we he came up for air. Several times he managed to breathe in a big bunch of pool water. Which resulted in loud coughing and sputtering. But, small price to pay right?

Oh dear, but then he got a bit too much water in his mouth and he vomited in the country club pool. Oh yes he did. He did. And lots of people saw it happen. People we know.

And speaking of vomiting... (I am so proud of this very lame segue), my friend Hayley brought her new fancy Chef Boyfriend over for lunch. Where said Chef Boyfriend cooked for me. In my very own kitchen. It was excellent.

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Absolutely no one vomited during this portion of the day. Although I did consider bulimia after the second helping of homemade chicken pot pie.

All's Well That Ends Well

Today started off bad. Really bad.

We visited a specialist about Paige's breathing problems. Turns out the only way to diagnose what's going on is to put her under anesthesia and scope her airway. Anesthesia makes this mommy nervous. I don't like it at all. Not at all. Did I mention I don't like it? Well, I don't. Not at all. However, I also do not like waking up 2 or 3 times each night with a gasping baby. I suppose this is a way to solve that.

So, on August 4th we'll go to Children's Hospital and they'll take my sweet girl back and "investigate". Her airway. While she's anesthetized. And has an IV. She's 13 months old. She's tiny. She's my baby. I'm nauseated even as I type.

I came home from the doctor's appointment, put the baby down for a nap, then crawled in my bed and slept for almost 2 hours. Yes I did. In the middle of the day. Do you think I was a touch overwhelmed? What was your first clue?

Next, I woke up from the nap and cleaned. Everything. I mean Ev. Reee. THING. The floors, the laundry, my car, my purse. Even THE DOG. Thank God Will was at a friends house, or I would've scrubbed his hiney too.

In the end, I felt better and had some perspective. Reeealllllly bad things happen every day... and in the grand scheme, a half-hour procedure in the hospital wasn't such a bad thing. Remind me I said this on August 4th, will you?

Our plans today also included going to the country club (read this with a slight British accent... it sounds fancier that way). The swanky Oklahoma City Golf and Country Club. The country club where all the women have had "work done". Where even the mothers show up with full makeup. Including false eyelashes. TO SWIM. Seriously. I would not make this up. Please note, I do not even OWN false eye lashes. Also, it is very evident that I have had no work done. At all.

Now, I've never been to this particular country club. You can imagine how intimidated I was. I felt like blacking out one of my front teeth and saying things like "You use towels? Oh, at our house we just roll around in the grass to dry off". But I thought I might not be invited back. You see, we were invited as guests of some of our friends. And as they are some of our favorite people, I really did NOT want to embarrass them.

You know what? It was awesome! Those folks at the country club (again - British accent, please) really know how to swim! And I did not see a single false eyelash. Not one! I had 2 margaritas. An excellent plate of food. And the most fun I've had in a really long time. And today, of all days, I needed some fun. I am so so so grateful for this evening.

Here are Dave and Paige enjoying the luscious towels and cushy lounge chairs:
Here's William and his very best school buddy, Everett (they are absolutely beaming!):

Aw, and here's Ron and his precious baby girl Avery. You can't really tell from the picture, but this child has white, curly hair that makes you want to weep it's so sweet.

Oh my goodness, and here's big-brother Teddy contemplating the high dive:

I don't blame him. I climbed up there, took one peek, and almost climbed right back down again. But a girl has her pride, you know.

Dave was undaunted: Or perhaps just showing off for the 7 year old.

Did you notice there are no pictures of Everett's mommy? No, it's not because I didn't take any. In fact, I have an excellent one of her doing an impressive cannon ball off the diving board.

I'll just be holding that picture here. Lisa, if you're listening, please know that I'll be happy to delete said picture as long as I get a guaranteed future invite.

I could really get used to country club living.

It's All Amy's Fault

Today was an amazing day. Just how birthday's should be.

Well, that's not entirely true. The day started with a big trash truck backing up right outside my bedroom window. You know, with that obnoxious backing-up-beeping-noise. It was 6:30. That was a bummer.

Oh, and then I got in the shower and there was no hot water. None! Dave investigated and came back to report that the doohickey was not whooping with the schplink-schplonk (I wasn't really listening). All I know is, I had to shower upstairs. I would like to apologize to anyone who might have inadvertently seen me nekkid this morning. I was already nekkid downstairs and didn't really feel like getting dressed before parading past the front door on my way upstairs. Oh! Hey! I'm just realizing that someone may have actually seen me in my birthday suit ON my birthday. What are the odds? Also, sorry to this person. Truly. My bottom is so white, it's almost blue. Like looking at the sun. Heh, or the moon.

But I digress. Today was great. Everyone called or left messages or emails. I got some cards in the mail. Even a package. I love getting mail. Love it. Remind me to tell you sometime about the time I became stranded at the bottom of my driveway because I just HAD to check the mail during an ice storm. My driveway, as it turns out, is very steep. And did you know that tennis shoes have no traction at all? Let's just say my neighbors are still laughing. But this is how much I love mail. So birthdays are a real treat, because: extra mail. Jackpot!

Tonight Dave arranged a sitter and we went to dinner. Dinner at my favorite restaurant - Cheevers. Love it. If you live within 500 miles of Oklahoma City and haven't eaten at Cheevers, please remedy the situation immediately. Thank you.

After wine and salad and fabulous entrees, the waiter asked if we were interested in seeing a dessert menu. Know what I said? NO. No, I did not want the Nine Layer Chocolate Cake. I did not want the Chili-Crusted Ice Cream Ball. I did not look twice at the Huckleberry Pot de Creme.
No, THIS is what I wanted:

I wanted Birthday Cake Ice Cream from Braums. It looks totally disgusting. It's blue. But, man, it's goooooood. I blame all this on Amy, my sister-in-law. Last time I was in Madill, she held me down, pried my jaws open, and forced me to try a bite. I swear that's how it happened. No! I swear! Ok. Really I made her give me a bite. But still. It's HER fault.

Here's a glimpse into to what it's like to be married to me: Dave drove me to not one, not two, but THREE Braums this evening. THREE! Why? Because they were out of the ice cream that the princess wanted. And he was determined to make all my birthday dreams come true(that, and he didn't want to hear the whining).

The man is a saint. Seriously.

We arrived home in time to say prayers with William. He prayed for the usual: daddy, momma, star wars, lava, rockets, bullets. But as I was leaving his room, he said "You're such a good momma. I sure do love you".

Wow. That really beats blue ice cream. But don't tell Dave.