Dream a Little Dream

Did I ever tell you that I knew my dad was going to die way before it happened?  I dreamed it.  Only, it wasn't like any other dream I'd ever had.  It was so REAL.  Not so much the dream itself.  I only remember flashes of it.  But I woke up with, I don't know - I can't even describe it - it was like the feelings I experienced in the dream were REAL, real-er than a normal dream. 

That was 2 weeks before he died.  I told my husband, my friends, my mother.  I told them about this dream I'd had.  All I could remember was him lying there and I knew he was dead.  And his skin was weird.  Sort of purplish-red.  That was the image that flashed through my mind when I thought of the dream.  His skin.  Him just laying there.  In a coffin? I think so.  But now, so many years later, I'm not even sure of that part.

So then he died.  He was 55 years old.  Super healthy.  Active.  But he had a brain aneurysm and died.  Well, that's not technically true.  My step-mom performed CPR until the ambulance got there.  He was rushed to the hospital and put on life-support.  After many tests, it was determined that his brain was so badly damaged that there was no hope of recovery. 

As we said our goodbyes, I held his hand and stroked his hair and then I noticed his skin.  It was the most peculiar reddish-purple color. I'd seen it before.  Exactly.  EXACTLY like my dream.  The nurses explained that his brain was having trouble regulating his blood pressure.  That the inflated blood pressure was causing his skin to flush and discolor.

There were other odd events that day.  Things that happened that just defy explanation.  But the dream is what I go back to.  How did that happen? WHY did it happen?  I think I know - I think I believe that I needed a taste of the devastation so that the real devastation wouldn't do me in.  That there must be SOMETHING out there greater than me that shielded me.  The one dream is the thing I lean on when my faith in God becomes shaky. 

Someone whispered a warning to me.  Something's out there.  And whatever you call "it" (God, The Universe) sent me a love note - one that I re-read when I need reminding.

I'm Still Here

do you miss me as much as I miss you?

Oh you guys! Hi!  I'm here!  I miss you! You're going to have to bear with me for a little while.  I love writing.  I love this blog.  I love YOU.  But I'm struggling to find balance with my new job.  I thought I could easily find 3 hours per day to work.  Three measly hours!  How hard could that be?

OHMYGAHSOHARD.

It's not that I didn't HAVE the three hours to spare.  It's that those three hours are sprinkled throughout my day.  You see, I thought (INSANELY) that I could carve out three CONSECUTIVE hours each day.  Oh HAHAHAHA! What the heck, me? Turns out, it's an hour here, 15 minutes there, 30 minutes over here.  Which means every moment I even CONSIDER sitting down to write on my blog, I start feeling guilty that those are minutes I could be working.

Or volunteering.

I also didn't realize how committed I was.  I'm so OVER-COMMITTED you guys!  How did this happen? I'm on the board of directors for my neighborhood homeowners association.  I have volunteered to run the monthly parent's luncheon at William's school.  I provide (creative! thoughtful!) gifts to the teachers at each of their staff meetings.  Speaking of which, lookie here at what I did for a gift on Monday:

you cannot believe how hard it was for me to come up with a "mint" pun.

I KNOW! So cute!  And also completely stolen from Pinterest.  I am such a good plagiarizer!

This week and last I've been setting my alarm for 6am so that I can have 30 uninterrupted minutes alone with my hot cup of coffee and my iPad.  I do things like read blogs and peruse Twitter. Such frivolity!  Then I spend the rest of the day Doing Only Productive Things. 

Oh POOR ME! Only productive things!  HOW WILL I SURVIVE IN THIS ENVIRONMENT?

Ok, the truth is that I already feel like I'm getting into a groove.  And it's only been 3 weeks, right?  Learning an entire new job (especially after NOT working for a zillion years) is supposed hard, and when I know things a little better I'm certain I will be back to blogging more regularly.

Yes! I will survive to blog another day!

In the mean time, tell me you missed me as much as I've missed you.

Obligatory Easter

Look, I know we all think OUR kids are the cutest ones at Easter. And I want you to go on believing your kids are the cutest.

Meanwhile I'll be over here confident in the knowledge that my kids are so very dang cute. I mean, would you please look at the hat? And don't even get me started on the fact that my 7 year old is wearing a necktie. A TIE. I die!

(The one in the middle is my niece. She has a hat AND pink braces. Top THAT, people!)

Danger to Society (and Aquatic Life)

I've decided to provide you with a scintillating pile of photos from my iPhone. I know! You are so thrilled! This is like a riveting tale of "A Week in the Life of Rita". Fascinating.

Chief among these photos are images of children displaying nearly dead fish.

Allow me to explain: you see, Dave has been taking the children to our tiny neighborhood pond to fish. They situate themselves directly below the very large, very clearly illustrated "No Fishing" sign and cast their lines into the water. Such an example of law-abiding citizenry! I am so proud.

Please don't report them to the authorities.

The Shoe's on the Other Foot

Today was crazy you guys! First of all, I had to dress myself IN BUSINESS ATTIRE. What IS that? I've totally forgotten. Does it involve a blazer? Do they even call it a "blazer"? Either way, I don't own a blazer-type outfit. Well, that's actually not true. I do have two basic pantsuits from way back when. And they're not even that dated looking! However, it turns out that a pantsuit from 2003 doesn't really fit my 2012 thighs. Hmph.

I was able to cobble together an outfit consisting of a pencil skirt, a button-down shirt and a cardigan. And I had the PERFECT leopard print heels to pull it all together. I tried on the outfit and stared at myself in the mirror. Y'all, I'm not going to lie: I looked pretty good.

But here's the problem: my feet aren't accustomed to heels. For 8 years I have worn shoes that are flat. And cushy. And soft. In the short time that I stood there adoring my gorgeous leopard heels in the mirror my feet were already in protest and threatening full rebellion.

The Old Rita (the younger, more vain one) would have ignored those protests, tucked some band aids in her purse and left the house looking cute. The New Rita (the older one with no shame or fashion sense) ripped those heels off and put on her most comfortable ballet flats.

I looked frumpy, unfashionable, and a tiny bit fat. But dang, my feet felt gooood.

As I stood there people-watching (I was at a women's business conference) I noticed a very distinct line of demarcation - the *ahem* mature women ALL had flats on their feet. And they all looked a little frumpy. The younger women, on the other hand, looked amazing. Long beautiful legs ending in perfect, stylish heels. And I could almost feel them scoffing at all of us oldies in our frump shoes.

But I have learned that one cannot be pretty (no matter your wardrobe choices) if you are limping and grimacing in pain. So there.

Plagues = Comic Gold!

mommy's little pharaoh - in the back wearing the red crown

I had what might be my greatest parenting surprise today. A watershed moment where everything I *thought* I knew about my kid was redefined. Replaced by a whole new image.

It was out-of-body weird.

And I'm not sure I'm a good enough writer to properly convey exactly what happened. I suppose the best way to say it is that I woke up thinking I had a sort of wallflower boy. The kind who who has stood - all of his life - on the back row during school musicals and soundlessly mouthed the words to the songs while half-heartedly performing the accompanying hand motions a few beats late.

I thought I had a wallflower boy because this was the way he'd performed at every school function up to today.

I should have known something had changed when another mother commented recently that her children "just think William is so funny". I remember coming home and discussing this with Susan. I wondered if perhaps the other students were laughing AT William. Because OBVIOUSLY he wasn't being funny on purpose. I mean, this is William we're talking about. William. My serious boy. My steady, quiet, serious boy. He's SO not the class clown type. Not even close.

And I should know, right? I'm his mother! I spend a LOT of time with this kid. More than most moms- what with the partial homeschooling and all.

Which is why is was KNOCKED OFF MY FEET today when I attended a little play put on by the first grade students.

William was slated to play the part of the pharaoh during the Biblical plagues. His classmates acted out various kinds of pestilence while begging William to "let his people go". I arrived expecting to quietly cringe while William refused to sing with the class. Instead, my kid had the crowd ROARING with laughter while he hammed it up on the stage. His part was the MAIN part. Lots of speaking. LOTS. There were many MANY improvisations, all of which were perfectly timed and executed.

I am so stunned at this turn of events. Who IS this child? This goofball who is perfectly comfortable in front of an audience? Certainly not the one I've known for nearly 8 years. No way.

And as I think about it, I realize that I am often told I am funny. And my husband is extremely quick-witted. Not to mention, he was voted class clown ALL FOUR YEARS of high school.

Maybe the fact that my kid is funny shouldn't surprise me. But you guys, this is WILLIAM we're talking about. William!

After the play, when we were climbing into the car, I told Will I thought he'd done a nice job. He replied while fastening his seat belt in the most deadpan voice, "Mom, I wasn't nice, I was hilarious."

Clearly it's the dawn of a new era.

ps. What's that you say? You want to see a video of Mommy's Little Ham?  No need to beg! Here you go:

Misc.

1. I went on a date with my husband on Friday night. We ate all of the carbs. On planet earth. There cannot possible be any left. I'm sorry.

2. In addition to consuming Earth-sized portions if pasta, we also discussed religion. Dave just finished reading the entire Bible in 90 days. It made for good dinner conversation. No really! It did!

3. I cleaned and organized my house on Saturday in order to feel more prepared to work on Monday. The house stayed clean until Saturday afternoon. It is now Sunday evening and the house looks the same if not worse than it did on Friday. *sigh*

4. I bought myself a bright Easter dress at the Ross Dress For Less. I spent $22.99. I am so fancy.

5. I am making William wear navy and white seersucker pants AND a tie for Easter. I'm taking bets on whether he will punch me on the nose.

6. I am going to do everything in my power to get a photo of me with my children next weekend. One where everyone is: a) not wiggling and therefore blurry, b) looking at the camera, c) smiling, d) NOT sticking out his or her tongue. I will achieve this with a carefully planned strategy of threats followed by bribery.