so we're all on the same page

dog that just turned a year old is still not house trained. apparently this is my fault since i am home with her all day every day. regardless of the fact that i have never house trained a dog in my life. please do not offer advice on this - i get way more than enough of that from my husband.



not only have i not successfully house trained a dog, i have three kids and have not successfully potty trained any of them. don't get me wrong - the older two go on the potty. still wear pull-ups at night, but go through the motions during the days. but i didn't teach them this. i just said to them, "here's the potty. what you have been depositing in your diaper, put it here instead." and i left them alone. eventually, they got it. drove my poor mother in law batty. and i do mean OffTheWall batty.



but the boy child - the one that turns three next month. diapers - 24/7. the only use he has for the toilet is to wash his hands in. thanks, no, i don't want advice on this either. eventually it will make my mother in law batty and she will do something about it. that or he will go to first grade in diapers and we all know that ain't gonna happen.



still no baby sitter. my father has once again come to texas to rescue me. i love that man. he cooks, cleans and runs kids around. PLUS he works for free. he bought a one way ticket to fly out here. and while i like to think this means he can and will stay as long as i need him - the reality is that he can grab his bag and leave whenever he has had enough. so far, i am on my really good behaviour. cannot say the same for my offspring. luckily they are his grandchildren and he tends to cut them a bit of slack.



read this article about breastfeeding in public. Americans - as a whole - are so freaked out about women's breasts. i do not get it. i breastfed all my babies. till they started biting me - then i put them out in the back yard and let them scavenge for themselves. (ever been bit on the nipple? you'd do the same!)



and while i was as discrete as possible - i nursed in private. i nursed in public. i nursed in front my dad, my brothers, my brothers in law, my pa in law, my girlfriends, their husbands. no wait - i nursed when AND WHERE my babies were hungry. OH YEAH! THAT'S WHY WE PULL OUR BOOBS OUT - to feed our babies. "no, I will not go feed my infant child sitting on a toilet in a nasty public bathroom. Why? You go eat your lunch in there??? be my guest."



no, i do not judge women who can not or do not breast feed their babies. i am not a lactation nazi. but holy crapping cow people - shut up and let the mothers feed their babies - however, whenever and where ever that baby needs nourishment!



BTW - KUDO's to Nordstroms for having the absolute best nursing rooms for mothers.



my son got a hair cut the other day. a real hack job. poor kid. i kept my calm through out the whole ordeal by telling myself over and over, "it's just hair. it'll grow back. it'll grow back"



speaking of hair, my mom was here right after Christmas. we had loaded up the kids and were on our way to town for some shopping. mom casually points out that i did not brush my kids hair before we left home. without pause i tell her, "school and church, mom. school and church." otherwise, if they want their hair done, they have to ask. and they won't ask. you know how they say "pick your battles." this ain't one of them.



okay. i think that's it for today.
i feel better now.

so i had this dream last night

Jimmy and Rosalyn Carter were guest speakers. (I love them)

I must have been some sort of college graduation - as we were in a very large auditorium.

I saw Ronald Regan leaving as I was getting there. Apparently my subconscious is not aware of his death.

The big news is that Oprah was there. In my dream. She has made appearances in my dream world several times in the past. And each time, she knows who I am. Not like we are best buds or anything - but she recognizes me and always calls me by name. Same thing last night. In the middle of the speechs and stuff she approaches me and wants me to help her unpackage and assemble a baby stroller for a doll. So I do. Go figure?!

Then I go back to the Green Room with her and Tom and Katy (Cruise) are there. I proceed to tell him very politely (okay, not so politely) what an idiot he is and if he does not believe in better mental living through pharmaceuticals he should come spend a month at my house with just me and my daughter. That would certainly convert his way of thinking or KILL him. My daughter and i in the same house for a month with neither of our meds - he would bash his own head in with pots and pans.

But back to Oprah. I just love her. I never watch her show any more. No time. But I do splurge and read her magazine when possible. I love that she is from Kosciusko, Mississippi. a home girl. I love that she is made person - successful because her own merits and hard work. and rich beyond my wildest dreams. and a HUGE philanthropist. Whenever I have caught her show, I almost ALWAYS agree with her opinions - and when not - I have very good food for thought. She battles her weigh and self image. i relate to that.

I have not developed an opinion on the girls school she just opened in Africa. i know there is controversy surrounding it. i just have not had the time to do adequate reading and research to form my own thoughts on the matter.

regardless, i love Oprah and what she stands for. i just know that if i ever meet her in real life - i will be crushed when she does not recognize me and call me by name...

This Is A Test

It is only a Test.
This test is brought to you by the Emergency Mother Association (EMA)

There is no need to panic or head for the hills.
Your oldest daughter is running a low grade fever
She must abstain from attending school today.
Your son refuses to watch another DVD
His eyes are square
Aforementioned offspring get along like the Hatfield's and McCoy's
You still cannot locate a full time baby sitter
It is too cold and wet for them to play outside
Nor can you lock them out of the house
You have voluntarily chosen to give up sugar
in an attempt to lose the stress fat gained last year.
Dixie Dog is one big furry muddy mess
Husband person gets to go to work (creep)
Away from the house (i hate him)
He did offer to bring home dinner
We may forgive him.

This has just been a test.

If this had been an actual emergency, the EMA would have done an immediate air drop of Calgon, red wine, dark chocolate, a masseuse, Nanny McPhee, and a five- course home cooked meal.

This concludes this test of the Emergency Mother Network.

on an upswing...

blame the meds or the mania.
i don't care.

it ain't over - the funk, that is.
but it's better

and since i am on an upswing - and i'd like to encourage that, thought i'd share a funny that recently occurred.

back in december when i found out i had polyps in my uterus that would have to be removed, i was mortified. and for the record, 'mortified' is WAY too weak a word to describe how i felt.

i could look at my kids and start crying. i researched the condition. this type of thing is not uncommon and is RARELY cancerous. but when it is your body. your uterus. your polyps. reason and sanity evaporate quickly.

so i was emotionally fragile. another gross understatement.

one night in bed, hubby asks "what's wrong."
me - starting to tear up, voice quivering ever so slightly, "i'm scared!"
him - "scared of what?"
me - "that it is going to be cancer." tears flowing freely now. nose starting to run.
him - "CANCER????"
me - "Yeah, CANCER! And I am scared that it can't be cured and i am scared I will die and leave these kids before I get them raised." throat closing up, nose and eyes flowing freely now. wipe both with back of PJ sleeve.
him - "YOU'RE SCARED! I'M THE ONE THAT SHOULD BE SCARED!"

and i know immediately he is thinking about having to raise our three precious little darlings all on his own.

and I start laughing. till it hurts. then crying again. till the sobs start again. i am a tear-stained, snotty mess.

I tell him when i finally can speak, "If i live - that's going to be the title of my book."

Guess I better get to writing, huh?

poor, poor, poor me, poor, poor, pitiful me

what is that song? It's been playing my head since i published my last entry. Linda Ronstadt maybe? too lazy to google it... anyway, it is my self proclaimed theme song this week.

a dear friend called me yesterday just to check in. we spoke a few minutes and i asked her if she had read my blog - as i figured that's why she was checking on me.
nope. she just knew i had been in a funk and was being a good friend. thank heavens for good friends!

my personal philosophy has always been that everyone is entitled to a really good pity party every now and again. wallow in it. pour the pitifuls all over you. moan and wail. beat your chest. and then get your butt up and get on with it.

the irony in my current situation is that i have been getting on with it. everything is getting done. the kids fed, clothed, brushed, homework done (most days). groceries bought. house work kept up. job work maintained. on-time for all Dr appointments and with the exception of an occasional temper tantrum/blow-up (by me) when my kids are ignoring me deliberately - externally - things look okay.

i have had episodes in the past where i have sat, stared at my hands and cried for three days straight. last year i left home for 24 hours and sat in a local hotel room and cried, wrote, read and stared at the walls. this is not that.

i just feel like my spirit is spent. all used up.

i am planning the Valentine treats my kids will take to school for their classmates. gotta make 40 something of them. Easter treats are in the planning stages as well.
I have three kids birthday parties between now and the end of March to plan and execute. am working on a special gift for my father's 70th birthday this month.

my theory is that if i keep going through the motions. if i keep doing the things that have to be done. should be done. must be done. that somehow my spirit will replenish itself. and if i am wrong - and my insides remain stale - then at least i have taken care of my family and they will be better for it.

and you know - i know i am not special. that everyone has their own demons. their own battles. but what i really want to know - the question that has been rolling around in my mind is this - Are there people out there - with average to above average intelligence - that are happy? not necessarily living in bliss all the time. but let's say 80% of the time they are content with their life situation.

do average people exist that are content with their lives the vast majority of the time? and i do believe contentment is a process - not a place - it is something that must continually be fed and watered. so are there folks out there that nurture themselves enough to maintain a relatively high level of contentment and happiness in their lives?

and if the answer is Yes - then what on God's Green Earth do they know/do/take that i don't???!!!

okay, who thinks t_cole thinks too much - raise your hand.
yeah, that's what i thought...

thanks for your comments and for caring. ignore me if you must till i get back to where i should be. and please remember - i know i am not special in the fact that i am depressed. i am one in a billion. this is just my little corner where i choose to voice it.
join me if you like. you are always welcome in my little world. the people are crazy here - but very hospitable.

my son needs a haircut

i think i am losing my mind
and then i think i have found it
and i try desperately to hold on to it - my sanity, that is.
it's like trying to store pudding in a colander

this and other meaningless banter
all rolling around in my head

i suffer from depression. and suffer is actually the appropriate word.
i started a new anti-depressant January 2005 and as it 'kicked-in' and did it's job, i felt less and less need to blog for therapy.
oh, i wrote tons of blog entries since then - all in my head. for my own purposes. they just never made it here.

at thanksgiving 2005 i released my babysitter from her employment with our family.
i have yet to hire a replacement.
which means I went through the entire holiday season without help. was the first time in four years i wrapped all my Christmas presents and put up all the decorations by myself.

about the same time i let her go, i found out i had polyps in my uterus.
in my head - for weeks - i kept repeating

i have polyps in my uterus
but i don't think it's very humorous

i was sure there was a song in there somewhere but that's as far as I ever got.

scared the living shit out out me.

on the 8th of december, i had out patient surgery. the polyps were benign and were removed.

clean bill of health - as far as female organs go...

money was tight for the holidays so i decided to make a lot of my presents. I knew getting decorations up, making, buying and wrapping gifts would be a huge ordeal as the holidays always are so early on, i just made up my mind that i would work my butt off and plow through it all. if for no other reason - for the kids.

Christmas was the last thing i wanted to do. but i kept hoping that if i faked it. if i pretended. if i went through the motions. if i did everything right that a mom of three is supposed to do - then, THEN i would have the Christmas spirit too.

and it worked briefly. the highlight of the season for me was our pageant at church. i felt 'it' there. which i guess is where you are supposed to feel the Christmas spirit so that worked out nicely.

then back to the rush rush rush. Drive 10 hours to Mississippi with two sick kids, one ILL kid, one large dog and a grumpy, exhausted hubby.

shortly after arriving my daughter accidentally broke one of the gifts i had made. it was completely an accident. it could EASILY be repaired (and was) but I lost it. i mean i COMPLETELY lost it. i screamed, cried and wailed so hard for so long i busted blood vessels under my eyes. no joke. permanent reminders of this episode.

the rest of the trip and holiday at home are somewhat of a blur. i was utterly exhausted but determined to do what i could to 'create memories' for the kids. and there were some really nice moments for the kids. we pulled that off at least.

my parents were great. my mom came back to texas with us and spent 10 days or so at my home. just having her here was a balm for my soul. (explain that b/c we have never spent such a long stretch together without one of us trying to kill the other one)

i continued to push myself. i had work to do, a house guest i wanted to take care of and three kids at home for the rest of the holidays. one kid still quite sick.

did go to a fabulous new year's eve party and mom baby sat. bonus.

but then my Mom left. kids went back to school. still no baby sitter for two (almost three) year old son at home. job work to do. house to clean. bills to pay. dishes to wash. baby sitter to hire. laundry to do. carpool to run. normal everyday stuff that normal every day people do.

and i dissolve into a puddle of worthless human flesh. all i want to do is sleep. and eat. did i mention i gained 20 pounds last year. lovely, huh?

and sleep.
and eat.

and eat.
and sleep.

so i am in a funk - not full out - as the meds prevent be from falling into the abyss. but i can tell if the meds were not in my system, i would be non-functioning. i despise this cloud in my soul feeling.

i tell my hubby. he has all but quit trying to understand me and my illness.

i tell my dad. he listens. and relates as best he can. and finally he tells me that sometimes you have to just 'dig deep' and 'push through it.' and he is right.

i talk to my mom about it. sometimes i think she understands better than anyone as i remember her (when I was a child) sometimes acting out then the way I feel on the inside now. and she does understand. and empathise. and finally she tells me that i am made of stronger stuff than this. that she and my paternal grandmother were both survivors and lived through their own hells at times - without the benefit of pharmaceuticals, i imagine.

so finally i talk to my shrink. he ups my dose of one med and writes me a new script. i am now up to three meds to help me feel 'normal.'

Shrink tells me i need to go to counseling. I start laughing at him - and then start crying. tell me something i don't know.
and when exactly, pray tell, would you like for me to go to counseling?? before or after carpool? should i schedule it after i drop my 7 (almost 8) year old daughter off with her counselor? or perhaps I can squeeze it in b/t laundry and the dishes. and do ya think they'd mind if i bring my two year old son with me since i can't seem to find a baby sitter to hire?

speaking of which,
my son really needs a haircut.

this is me - and I don't even smoke...

did i just completely miss september???

seems like a blur. it IS a blur.

i spent three weeks on the road traveling for work.
three delicious weeks of room service, valet parking, having the remote all to myself, dinners out, dressing up, talking to adults all day, happy hour at the hotel bar...

tell me again why i came home?
ah yes, the three little rugrats i call mine.
(they're fine by the way)

what a mess they are. and what a rude awakening it was for me when i finished my trips and had to start staying home again. how did i do this? apparently i did. as i am doing it now.

yes, hubby, mother in law and baby sitter are all saints. They pulled the long shifts with the kids so i could get some work done away from home.

here's the funny thing - after the first few days gone, my mother in law (MIL) tells me how hubby is going to have to do this, that and the other different b/c he allows the kids to really get to him. "Yes 'Mam" i say.

After three weeks gone, MIL calls me to tell me that the in-laws (three different families) have agreed to take our kids - one per family - one weekend a month so hubby and I can catch a break. Yep, three weeks with my kids and she understands why the kids get to him.

I wanted to cry - almost did. Told her i felt like i had won the lottery.

This weekend is our first weekend. perhaps the last. but i am going to sleep late on Saturday. God help the person that calls and wakes me up Saturday morning. somebody better be dead or my house had better be burning down around me.


I have a picture for you. This is a Katrina Cross. Yes, as in Hurricane Katrina. Made by Sherri Anderson from china, glass and other debris from a Long Beach, MS neighborhood. My mom bought it for me. Part of the proceeds from the sale of these crosses is given to a mission in South Mississippi.

Please know - the rebuilding has barely begun in most coastal areas. The suffering and loss are still very raw.
and these are my people.

I HATE SATURDAYS!

and how.
you know why, right - there's no SCHOOL!

and hubby has new job that requires him to work on Saturdays.
so it's me against the three.

and today i had to run errands. Mall - new school shoes for both girls - at lunch time - had to eat where they could watch the ice skating rink. brother strapped into stroller. do NOT let him out since i lost him that time at Nordstrom's Rack. He doesn't like it but seems to understand and accept his fate.

and then WalMart. I effing HATE WalMart. but with the kids - i could make ONE stop and get everything i needed. which is immensely better than three or four stops. trust me on this.

and i have IBS (look it up). and it hit me about 7 minutes b/f we got to walmart. so here i am. having to find a parking place - in a 10 acre lot, get three small kids unbuckled, shepherded and not run over into the store without arguing or forgetting anyone and me to the bathroom before my guts erupted all over... well... everything. Thankfully we made it. to the bathroom. My kids wallered around on the floor in the bathroom at walmart waiting for my spell to pass. Yes, i hosed them off and sprayed them with Lysol when i got them home.

and then the shopping adventure began. before it was over, i had brother strapped into the buggy and both girls assigned to their own side of the cart. they were not to look at each other, talk to each other, think about each other or so much as utter a sound that the other one could hear. I don't think there are two creatures on this earth that can annoy and antagonize each other more effectively and completely than my two daughters. in fact, i think they enjoy watching my eyes roll all the way back in my head, steam come out my ears and the HUGE self restraint I must exhibit in public when i don't beat the living S.H.I.T out of them for fear some do-gooder will call CPS on my arse.

I tell ya what, there are days when i'd PAY CPS to take these precious little darlings off my hands. they'd bring them right back in less than 12 hours. i am certain.

and you know - i was thinking today - if you hadn't always read my blog and didn't have a clue as to the type of Mom I really am and how i bend over backwards for my kids and this is just a phase - whereby they are driving me batty - one might wonder why i even had kids to be begin with...

So i thought I should come up with a list of why i had kids to begin with.

1. to prove i could do it. yep, wanted to make sure the female body was in working order as explained to me in BIO 101. it is. of course this does NOT explain why i had to prove it THREE times.

2. to have someone to take care of me in my old age. and i now know there's no chance in hell that any of these little rug rats will do that.

3. to appease my mother

4. to please my father

5. because i have always ALWAYS been the 'Mother Hen' of all my friends and it felt like a natural progression to have my own baby chicks.

6. i LOVE Pottery Barn Kids

7. because i LOVED weighing 700 pounds and not being able to sleep for 3 months straight. no. wait. that's why i didn't want to have kids. scratch that.

8. so i could dress them in all those cutesy little pink and blue outfits with the matching hats, bibs, socks and blankets. OMG are those little sets darling. Have a baby - invite me to your shower - you will get a matching set guaranteed.

9. to have someone to boss around. we all know what a control freak i am. how much more fun could you have - as a CF - than to be in control of three little lives.

and the top 10 reason why I had kids....

10. to produce and endless supply of wonder, excitement, love, challenge, sloppy kisses, neck hugs, squeezes (with grunts), mud pies, weed flower bouquets, boo boos to doctor, eyes to wipe, hearts to mend, lessons to teach, lesson to be learned, shoes to tie, clothes to wash, diapers to change, books to read, nights to worry and more joy than i even knew was possible in one person's heart. mine.

my girls are at the stage where they ask me if i love them. i tell them i love them more than i ever knew i could love a living creature.

my son is at the stage where he walks up to me unannounced and says "i wuv you."

i respond by asking him - "oh son, would you like the sun, the moon or the stars? oh here, darling - just have them all ."

i got two words for ya

B O A R D I N G S C H O O L

this week has been so utterly delicious with my girls back in school - 'cept for the part where they come home in the afternoons - oh, and the part where i have to get up at 5:45AM to get the little darlings dressed, fed, brushed and lunches packed - it has been so wonderful and my sanity is so close to returning - i am thinking boarding school might be the answer to all that ails me.

did you know that kindergarten has HOMEWORK? oh yes they do! OMG!

i'm only kidding about the boarding school. okay, i'm only half way kidding. alright, alright, i googled "boarding school austria" earlier today. they are not accepting precocious five year olds at the moment but i put her on the waiting list. oh, yes i did.

on a serious note, i met with sam's principal and teacher today. she is doing "fine" and i have been instructed to "quit worrying." okay. i'll try. but you'd make more progress converting billy graham to catholicism than to stop me from worrying. WHAT?! it's the truth. i am a mother. i worry. it's what we do.

and about my son. my perfect, precious son - the one who walks aroung 24/7 with his hand down the front of his diaper...
Yesterday i get him up from his nap. he is soaking wet. too much output for the diaper device.

so i say to him jokingly "SON! SOMEONE peed in your diaper!" he grins.
"Who peed in your diaper?!?" i ask.

His response - "Someone."

he's two - did i mention that? and perfect.

See for yourself ====>>>>>>

i guess i am back. school is in. life is good. i hate homework as much now as i did when i was the student. at least NOW i can threaten to write the teacher a note and tell her that daughter would not willingly participate in the homework process. THAT gets their attention.

for now...

schoool days...

i figured out why the past three months of my life have been utter, complete and total HELL.
My girls were out of SCHOOL. Duh, t_cole...

So now they are back in school. Life is good...
Really good!
GREAT!
Fabulous even!

for those of you who are more 'visual' - the following kinda sums up my life for the past three months...

The Woman Formally Known As Moma

Official Announcement.......

I shall no long be known by or answer to the name of Moma.

You may call me any dang thing you wish.

but not Moma. I will not hear you.

we clear?

good.

put down the gun and clean your room

During my first pregnancy, I had every expectation that the child growing inside my body would be perfect. When I held that baby girl in my arms for the first time, I again divined perfection. Ok, so maybe not perfection, but perhaps normalcy. I suspect very few mothers give birth to a beautiful, healthy baby and anticipate the worst. I certainly didn’t.

I have spent much of the past 6 years mourning the loss of my anticipated perfection. MY loss and HER loss of normalcy. And we are so far away from worst case scenario with our daughter. Nowhere near worst case possibilities. But still, there is that acute awareness of loss and grief that sometimes sneaks up on me. When I am washing dishes. Putting her to bed. Folding clothes. I wonder – “what would my life – my family - be like if all three of my kids were ‘typical’ kids”

Sam is 7. we knew at two years of age there was a speech delay - apraxia. At about 5 years, we learned there was ADHD and Dyslexia. And we knew, still yet, there was something else. Something yet to be determined. And in April of this year, we learned that the unknown does have a name. Thy name is bipolar disorder. Once called manic depressive. I am not getting into the nitty gritty of the disease. If you read blogs – you know how to Google.

We have friends, some family even, that think the diagnosis is bunk. That she is just a high maintenance child. These people have not witnessed one of her rages – which are typical of bipolar children. We had one this past weekend that rocked our world. It took me and hubby to physically restrain her. My dear friend from Miss. was here visiting – she’s an ER nurse. She says to me in the middle of this rage – “tcole, she is psychotic”
Ever had a medical professional say that to you about your child? No, I didn’t think so.

Long miserable story short – we now have her in intensive outpatient treatment. We have changed her meds – for the second time since April. she is being tested - psychological testing stuff.

me. (it's always about me, remember) i am exhausted. mentally, physically, spiritually. i can't say i am defeated, because I AM NOT. but i do feel like i have been beat with a baseball bat about the head for a week or two. prolly look like it too and DO NOT even care.

for those of you requesting i return to blogging - you may wish you had kept your mouths shut. i don't have a lot of fun stuff to share right now.

my life has been an emotional battleground for the past four months with my family as the casualties.

but on the upside, about the title of this post - which does make me smile, btw...

last night, i overheard my hubby say this to out middle daughter. "Honey, put down the gun and clean your room." I stopped in my tracks. did not breath. what an absurd thing to say to a five year old, i thought to myself. and then i remembered, she was playing with her brother's water pistol.

AUDIBLE EXHALE...

26 years later

NOTE: i wrote the vast majority of this post weeks ago - right after i returned from vacation. due to circumstance and emotion, i am just now finding the wherewithal to publish it. your patience is greatly appreciated.

26 years later....
and the little girl in me remembers telling him good bye in my parents' kitchen and wondering when or if i would ever see him again. thinking then, even as child, that i likely would not.

and last week - there we stood in the exact same kitchen - with our spouses, my children and it was so overwhelming emotionally i thought i might suffocate. yes, the little girl in me still has a great deal of puppy love for the little boy in him.

and now - as a grown woman relating to a grown man, i adore him. i respect him. i admire the hell out of him. i love him as one life-long friend loves another. (and i find it very hard right at this moment in time to write about this without tearing up.)

it was an amazing reunion on so many levels.

when we pulled up to my parents house last week, he and his wife were already there. my childhood sweetheart (CS) was in the front yard with my daddy. i could see his face. tense. taunt. nervous. anxious.

i did not assume this was about seeing me - but from being back in the place where the abuse of his childhood began. of breathing the same air. standing on the same soil, again. i hugged his lovely wife. my mom and dad and then worked over to him. he was so serious. "hi t_cole" and then BAM - the biggest, bestest bear hug i've had in a long, long time.

i knew he wanted to be there. i knew he had been so HUGELY excited about making the trip. but i also knew how hard it would be for him. i just wanted to be there for him as he made this emotional journey. to support and buoy him. it was a vacation but it was also therapy - for ALL of us. i was really anxious myself - about how to accomplish this - be there for CS - while at the same time not allowing an environment that would make my hubby or his wife (CSW) uncomfortable.

i did not wish to distance myself from my hubby nor did i wish to impose myself between CS and CSW. i expected a challenge in accomplishing this goal. no such challenge ever surfaced. the relationship that evolved between the two couples was nothing less than wonderful.

at the end of the week, my hubby paid CSW the highest compliment ever. i asked him if he had enjoyed spending time with them. i got a quick 'yes' answer. he said "i really liked CSW - she's like a Canadian t_cole." not a nicer thing could have been spoken...

his wife and i hit it off HUGELY. the more we talked and laughed and got to know each other, the more we found we had in common. the more i loved her. and appreciated her. if she's like me - then i LOVE being like her!

by the end of the week, when it was time for them to leave - i could hardly speak. i couldn't even say good bye when we hugged. but a noticeable transformation had taken place in CS. he was no longer tense and anxious. he was relaxed. calm. peaceful, even.

it was a good trip. a good week. a once in a life time experience.

KC told me recently that i appear to have led a charmed life. i have reflected on her comment a great deal over several weeks. and while there have been times i would contradict her assertion, the evidence is just too overwhelming.

me. my life. charmed, indeed.

post note - i have tried three different times today to add pictures to this post with no success...

dear diary

i've been something of a bad girl. i have not been keeping up with my blog. as a result, i have lost touch with some folks i have come to know, love and adore!

that and i have gotten some emails from friends and family wanting to know if i am okay and where the #(*&$@^! are the pictures i promised in my last entry.

so diary, i just want you to know that i am okay. not great. not bad. but pretty okay. i think the post-vacation-let-down from my phenom trip with my friends from canada was greater than i expected. i think having the kids home all summer has about pushed me over the brink into the abyss of insanity from whence there is no return.

we have worked with sam's meds all summer and still have not got them right.

my journey in life continues. i WILL get pictures out here this week. i swear on what's left of my right mind.

i do have stories to tell. incidents to share. for example - my two year old son said just this week - for the first time ever - "I WUV YOU MOMMY!" talk about melt. oh my.

the kids go back to school soon. praise the lord.

and i will be back.

i miss you too
t

home, bittersweet home

my week of vacation is drawing to a close. it has been simply amazing.

i must say thank you to nowhere girl for suggesting i send my blog entry to my childhood sweetheart. we (him, his wife, my hubby and our family) have just spent the most wonderful week together.

i have so much to write about. so much to tell you. but i want to run it all through my mind again. to savor it. digest it.

so stay tuned. stories and pictures to follow....

once a band geek - always a band geek

i got an email this week. from my high school band director's wife.

her husband, my band director, is retiring next week.

and for the record - so that everyone gets this straight - i was his favorite. not only was i a band geek and damn proud of it - i was the teacher's (band director's) pet. oh yes i was. he's reading this shaking his head back and forth - and to that i say - WAS TOO!

i wanted to be in band in the worst way from the time i was in elementary school and i watched them march into the football stadium before the friday night games. eyes straight ahead, no smiles, all serious - the cadence pounding in my head. i wanted to be a part of that. wanted it something awful.

and i got it. and more. i got the bestest, coolest, funniest, most talented band director i could have ever imagined. i LOVED this man. i would say i worshipped him but don't want it to go to his head. and his ego is such that it does not need inflating. now or then. he is/was so talented. we seldom had 'bought' music - he wrote all our stuff. he'd hear a song he liked (cool stuff like Styx and David Lee Roth) and write the parts for every instrument in the band. seriously. if you don't know anything about music - that's kinda a big deal. and drill - good gawd - one of his band buddies would write our drill - i was told he used to write for Drum Corp International (DCI) and i believe it. we NEVER stood still - not during the entire show. he had our butts marching up, down and around that dad gum field.

and we never once lost a half time show. in the four years i marched for him - we outplayed and out marched every single band we came up against. if you think the only competition at a football game is between the football players - you are sadly mistaken. we took our half-time competition very seriously.

he was a task master - and we were devoted to him. he worked us harder and longer than we thought possible. and we wanted to. he was so good at getting the very best out of us. and we wanted to give it our best. for him. we'd rather break a leg than disappoint him.

he was/is a horrible prankster. each year, he'd select two freshman - on an average school day - 5th period - band and take them aside and send them off on a task. separately. when they were gone - he'd explain to us that they had gone in search of the paper stretcher.

do what?!

that the paper he had received from the vendor was not long enough and that he needed to stretch it. the rest of the staff on campus was in on the gig too. so these two students went for class to office and teacher to teacher throughout the period looking for the paper stretcher. each teacher had to sign their hall pass. the student who came back with the most signatures was the 'winner.'

i knew he loved me most when i came home at the end of one summer for band camp. i spent the summers working in atlanta at six flags over georgia and would come home for band camp.
so one time, at band camp ...
actually before camp started - i was driving home - in my neighborhood - did i mention that he lived two houses up from my folks? so driving home and there is this hand painted sign tied to two huge trees - had to be 20 feet above the road - and it read
"GO BACK t_COLE!"
i laughed till i cried. i knew he loved me best then.

to this day, i still have dreams about being out there on that field and marching to a stadium full of hometown fans. of course in my dreams i am usually nekkid or have forgotten my drill - some nightmare like that.

but here's my point - being in band - being a band geek - learning all i did from HIM all those many years ago is STILL and will ALWAYS be a huge part of me and who i am.

i asked his wife once if he had any idea of what an impact he had on young lives? did he know what a difference he has made to hundreds - thousands - of kids over the years. i don't recall her exact response word for word but the basic answer was "No."

so here's my retirement note to Mr. Sprinkell -
being in band - in YOUR band - was one of the absolute very best experiences of my entire life. beyond learning there are 8 steps to 5 yards, how to play an instrument and march in 105 degree heat, that sweating and sunburns will not kill me, that i cannot chew gum and walk in your presence and even though i am your favorite - you will yell at me and give me the hairy eyeball to keep me in line - beyond all that - you taught me - you taught all of us - about determination, PRIDE, discipline, hardwork as well as to value talent and how to develop skill.

you pushed us harder than most of us had ever been pushed before in our tender young lives. your expectations for us were beyond our own and constantly drove us to excel. we played difficult music, marched the most intricate drills, practiced longer and harder than most of us had ever worked on ANYTHING - EVER.

and we wanted to - for YOU! sometimes we loved you. sometimes we hated you. but we always respected you and strove to give it (you) our very best when between the end zones.

and when we marched off the field at the end of a show - you always had your poker face on. you didn't want the crowd - or us even - to know your reaction to our performance. but over the years i came to recognize this sparkle in the corner of your eye when we had done good. don't know if everyone else picked up on - they likely did - but even you couldn't completely contain it when your band had pulled off a stellar performance.

and i know you well enough to know that you are wearing your poker face now. marching off the field for the last time. into retirement. and you should know - i can see that sparkle in the corner of your eye - all the way out here.

i love worship and adore you.
i am grateful to you.
i am thankful for you.
i wish you all the very best in the next chapter of your life.

love and hugs,
your favorite - Me

high as a kite

been a red letter week.

have worked like a dog at work - but no demos and no travel - so not too stressful.

hubby had a birthday. cooked birthday dinner.

but I GOT THE PRESENT.

hubby works for a luxury auto dealership in a burb of Dallas. his dealership is in the process of renovating the service drive. it is huge. they had laid PAVESTONE on the entire drive. didn't meet standards of some sort. told them to RIP IT UP. t_cole got two extended bed pickup truck loads of pavestones this week. FREE! can you say NEW PATIO??? patio, landscaping, fountain, arbor - i am just about to die happy.

i am feeling the love, people.

ok, so he got a oklahoma joe's smoker for Father's Day and a new mountain bike for his birthday - he didn't rate too poorly either.

oh, and he got me a reversible lined Lexus windbreaker with his points from work. It is this gorgeous charcoal brown on the outside and Pissy - get this - PINK on the inside. too bad it's like 125 degrees here - cause i rock in that jacket.

finally - why am i high as a kite???? as if that's not enuf...

two weeks from right now i will be sitting in Mississippi with my childhood boyfriend and his wife. i spent like an hour on the phone with HER tonight. OMIGAWD - i like her so much. I cannot wait till they get here. i promise stories - at least the ones that are fit to print and pictures - but not the ones of me in a swimsuit - are you mad?

but i feel like a kid in a candy store. the anticipation. the excitement. the sugar overload - yep that's me.

high as a stink'n KITE i tell ya...

stranger than fiction

i spent seven of the longest, most miserable months of my life in 1992-93 in baltimore, maryland.
and before i start getting hate mail from baltimore supporters, let me say this - i am sure baltimore is a perfectly nice city. it simply was not the right place for me between October 1992 and April 1993.

and it was mutual.
i did not like baltimore.
baltimore did not like me.

i got to baltimore because of a man.
a man i had met in vail.
a man I thought i was in love with and could not live without.
apparently i was wrong.

he lived in NY.
the company i worked for was transferring me and i had a choice of destinations - so i picked the east coast to be closer to him.
huge life altering mistake.
in the seven months i suffered in baltimore, i saw him once.
nice.

while in baltimore, i held two jobs. one with the company that transferred me cross country and another waiting tables at an olive garden in columbia, md. the second job, i enjoyed. the first, not so much.

anyway, on Easter Sunday of 1993, i put my back to that city on the Chesapeake Bay and drove away.
never, ever to return.
good riddance.

but return i did. this week. for my current work.
and it weren't so bad. a few brief stomach turning moments, but i survived...
work was great. demo went beautifully.
had some FABULOUS seafood. soft shell crab, lump crabmeat et al.

so wednesday morning we (my coworker and i) show up at the customer site. meet their team. as usual - very nice, capable, talented people. the young woman in charge of the team is familiar to me. that's pretty common - as i have met so many customers over the years. so i try to place her. ask if she went to our conference in vegas last month. no. has she ever been in any of my classes? no.
hmmm. i am imagining things. oh well.

back to business. we dial up the office in the UK and start the presentation. goes well. really well. so we invite their team out to lunch afterwards. we decided to head down to the Inner harbor for some seafood.

in the car on the way down, their team leader asks if this is our first visit to baltimore. i wasn't really going to volunteer that i had spent 7 hellish months in their lovely city but before i could compose my response, my coworker volunteered that i had actually lived in baltimore once.

i said yes, i lived here, briefly. before moving back home to mississippi.

and this is where it gets good...

so this young woman i had been working with all day - the lead on their team - says to me, "i knew a t_cole once that moved to mississippi. we waited tables together."

BINGO!

"at the olive garden" i almost screamed.

"YES!!!" in unison!

Holy Crap! of all the people in all the buildings in all of downtown baltimore my customer's team lead ends up being someone i waited tables and partied with 13 years earlier?

WHAT ARE THE CHANCES PEOPLE?????!!!!!!!

i am a complete failure

as a mother
i have proof...

exhibit 1

saturday. shopping at Nordstrom's Rack. (the mother ship calls me home when i get too close)

leaving dressing room. have Sam and Smith with me. Smith expresses that he'd like to make his own path and not go with me. i say "fine - you stay here. but momma is leaving."

sam thinks i am really leaving him and proceeds to start tantrum. and lest you have forgotten - she is a professional tantrum thrower. like nothing most people have ever seen with their own eyes.

i turn to her and make an attempt to divert tantrum - usually a lost cause. i keep one eye on smith - still moving away from me.

i look at her. i turn to smith. i see him run the other way. i tell her to freeze - i am going to get brother. when i get to the aisle he went down - six steps away - he is nowhere to be seen.
GONE.

so i start calling his name. nothing
i call a bit louder. still nothing.
sam is melting. i cannot tend her till i find smith.

the store is jam packed crowded with saturday shoppers. looking at me.

my heart is pounding in my ears. i am suddenly high on pure un-cut adrenaline. i am sweating.

i glance to the front door. i have full view of the back door. the thought goes through my mind that someone could be leaving right now with my precious son.

stay calm. do not panic. i tell myself.

i turn up the search a notch. i start saying loudly - though not yelling - "I AM LOOKING FOR A LITTLE BOY. HE IS TWO. HAS CURLY HAIR AND IS WEARING A GRAY T-SHIRT"

i love being the center of attention - always have. until this exact moment in time.

so i plant sam - with her hand on the buggy - in the exact spot i saw him last and i tell her NOT TO MOVE - that brother might come back here. i start to the far side of the store - where we went first when we came in. i am repeating myself, louder still.

"I AM LOOKING FOR A LITTLE BOY. HE IS TWO. HAS CURLY HAIR AND IS WEARING A GRAY T-SHIRT"

people are looking under racks. staring at me. giving me the "Bad Mother" look.

as i turn the corner to the FAR SIDE of the store i see him. a woman is walking toward me - holding his hand. his tear-filled, red-rimmed eyes match mine exactly. he runs into my arms. i inhale him and smother him with kisses as i thank the woman profusely and start running back to sam.

sam, of course, has moved. but not far. she sees me and runs to me. into me. nearly knocks me over. clings on for dear life - to me and brother. we are all trembling. sweating.

i pay for my items and leave as fast as humanly possible.


exhibit #2
this morning.
i am in my room - working.
sam is in the den watching tv.
we are at opposite ends of the house.
she comes to my room and tells me there is someone here.
i take my time getting up and going to the door. i expect to find the AC guy outside still getting his equipment out of his truck.
but when i get to the den, the front door is WIDE open and there is a young man standing on my front porch. selling some sort of summer eductional material for kids.
i tell him i am not interested.
he is undeterred.
my southern upbringing does not allow me to shut the door in his face.
i tell him my daughter's tuition for the fall is $15K and that leaves nothing in our budget for summer materials (much less food).
i finally get rid of him.
i shut the door.

turn to sam
and proceed with
DO NOT EVER OPEN THE DOOR TO THIS HOUSE WHEN SOMEONE KNOCKS ON IT UNLESS I AM STANDING RIGHT HERE! WHAT IF HE HAD GRABBED YOU AND TAKEN YOU AWAY???

i continued with horror stories about how mommy would not even have known she was gone. that i would have thought she ran away. i ranted until i could not breathe.

and then i realize - i am a complete failure as a mom when it comes to keeping my kids safe.

told you i had proof...