Twinkies

I volunteered at my son's school, today, to discuss the book "Bridge to Terabithia"
     (specifically, the topic of "bullying") with a group of sixth graders. 
To add to the experience, I brought along a snack, directly related to the book.

EVERY kid likes TWINKIES, I thought.  

To my surprise, three out of the six students in my group had
     NEVER TRIED A TWINKIE!

Suddenly, as I passed around the
"sugary sweet, cream filled, loaded with preservatives, sponge cakes" to the group,
     I felt a little bit guilty.

This could be the beginning of a life-long relationship with Twinkies, I thought.   

SO, the OPPOSITE of what First Lady, Michelle Obama would do.  

IT WAS TOO LATE, THOUGH.

They peeled the wrappers off, and dove right in; sinking their teeth into the soft, Twinkie goodness.

      "So, what do you think of Twinkies?  Good?"  I asked the group.

With mouths full, eyes rolling backwards, and heads nodding up and down,
     it was a definite, non-verbal, unanimous,

     "YES!"

Maybe they won't tell their parents, I thought.

After handing out three more, I had one, lone Twinkie left.

I eyed the Twinkie, thinking to myself,

     I haven't had one of those in YEARS.  One little Twinkie won't hurt.

I peeled back the wrapper, and sank my teeth into the soft, Twinkie goodness.

     "Yum," I said.

Just as good as I remembered.

I TOTALLY understand why the character in "Bridge to Terabithea"
     was so upset when that bully took her Twinkie!



 












 

   




 

Happy Mommy

Sitting in traffic yesterday,
     I noticed the license plate in the lane next to me read, 

HPY MOMY.  

I have had the "license plate discussion" before.  

I choose not to have a personalized plate for a number of reasons.

One, is that I choose to remain anonymous.

Should I happen to make some idiot move in traffic
     (not that I ever do - I am an EXCELLENT driver),
I do not want to be easily identified, later on.  

"Look, there's that *#^! that cut me off in traffic yesterday!"  

Another reason is that, a license plate can make a statement that holds you accountable.  

For example, the license plate that I mentioned - 

HPY MOMY.

I am going with the assumption that it means "Happy Mommy".  

While I am no longer a "mommy", and have moved onto "mom-hood",

     I have had many a mommy day (as well as "mom" days) when I was NOT happy.  

ESPECIALLY, in the car - 

dropped toys or pacifiers that are out of reach, diaper blow-outs, car seat temper tantrums,

"I'm hungry!", sibling fights, "Are we there YET?", not enough logged in hours of sleep,  

spilled juice, spilled fishy crackers,

And, WORST of all ( I think most of you will agree) -  CAR SICKNESS.    

That being said, I have had many happy mommy and mom days, as well,

     and I would not trade the job for anything in the world.      

But, I would imagine that, if someone were to pull up next to my car
     (during one of my typical mommy days),
they would have been just as likely to have seen me with one of my
"Calgon, please take me away!" faces,
as they would have been to have seen me singing happily along to one of the
     "Barney, the Purple Dinosaur" songs.

Curious, I pulled up next to the HPY MOMY to see if she looked . . . . . . HAPPY. 

She wasn't smiling, however, she looked pretty peaceful,
     with her Starbucks coffee cup in her hands. 

It was difficult to tell with her tinted windows, but 

     I don't think there were any children in the car with her. 

It was around mid-day, and they were probably all at school or daycare.      

That explains it.  

  

Of course, I could be wrong.

Maybe the license plate meant "Hippie Mommy".

In which case, she probably was "Happy".  

Though, she was driving a Ford Expedition,
     which is not what I would imagine a "hippie mommy" to be driving.  

I think I will stick to my "Happy Mommy" assumption,
     and continue to drive as "anonymous".

I wouldn't want to falsely advertise my mood. 

Happy Thursday To You

The words just aren't coming to me this week,
     so I will take this opportunity to share words that were written by someone else.   

This is from one of my favorite characters, from one of my favorite series of childrens books.

As an adult, looking back on her character,
     I can understand why I loved Frances so much.  

Pet Peeves

Pet Peeves.

 Everyone has them.  

Something that annoys you to the point of throwing something, 
          breaking something, or throwing something at someone ELSE.

I was reminded of one of my "pet peeves" last night.

It woke me up, somewhere around the 4:00 hour.

That LICKING sound that is barely audible, but enough so, to drive me INSANE!

I am, of course, referring to my dog, Charlie (speaking of pets).

He likes to lick.   

He licks himself, he licks his blanket, he licks the carpet, he licks his people.

This very second, in fact, he is licking my purse, that is lying on the floor next to me.   

Lick, lick, lick, lick, LICK!

STOP IT, CHARLIE!!!

He is giving me that same look that my children give me when they think I am being unreasonable.

Another one of my pet peeves, that has nothing to do with pets
   
     . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . is TEXTING.  

It is not so much the ACT of texting, as it is the LOCATION OF THE EXERCISE.  

This morning, after I was already feeling irritable
     (due to my lack of sleep), 
I treated myself to a trip to Starbucks.

The "licking dog" was with me, so I opted for the drive-thru.

The line was fairly long, and I was in no hurry,
     but the lady in front of me was not paying attention,
leaving large  G     A     P     S   between her and the car in front of her.

SHE WAS TOO BUSY TEXTING.  

After not moving up the first time, I mumbled to myself.

The second time, I mumbled to my dog.

The third time, I envisioned myself shouting out my window,

     " STOP TEXTING AND MOVE UP! "  

                                        . . . . . . . or something like that.  

Instead, I tapped on the horn.

Just a little "wake-up and pay attention" tap.

Not the "LAYING ON THE HORN BECAUSE YOU ARE DRIVING ME INSANE" tap.

She slowly moved up, then went back to her texting.

    THAT was effective, I thought.

The line moved up again.

And, AGAIN  . . . . . . . . . .she stayed put. 

TOO BUSY TEXTING.    

Right when I had my hand on the door handle, ready to walk up and confront her
...............................she moved up to the pick-up window.

While I will admit, I was slightly relieved ( the thought of a confrontation
     made me less than comfortable ),
 I was also disappointed, because I wanted her to know what an annoyance she had been.

 Instead, I settled for an imaginary conversation, inside my head.



She moved on, unphased, and it was my turn at the window.

I picked up my grande, skim latte, and placed it in the cup holder of my car.
 


As I turned my head to thank the Starbucks employee,      

        the "dog who likes to lick"

                . . . . . . . licked the lid to my coffee.

CHAR - LIE  ! ! ! 

Oh well.

He's a dog.

At least HE has an excuse. 

Elbows

I would be SO HAPPY
     if I could just have ONE DAY . . . . . . . . . . .

when my elbows would not get in the way.

They are constantly BANGING into things -

     the soap holder in the shower, the frame of a doorway. . . . . . .

the WALL!

. . . . . . . leaving me with bruises, and shouting all kinds of expletives.

( Damn!  Shit!  F#^*  !!! )

 

I'm a bit attached to my elbows and,
     even though they ARE funny looking -

pointy, and knobby, and wrinkly,

I would not wish them away.

I DO recognize their value.

My arms would not bend as well, without them.  


I just wish they wouldn't get in the way!

Free Will?

Over the weekend, I saw the movie, The Adjustment Bureau, which brings up the age old question - 

 Do we have free will, or are our lives predetermined? 

The message that I walked away with,

     is that our lives are, indeed, predetermined, 

HOWEVER, 

we DO have free will to change our paths,

     if we believe strongly enough in something to do so. 

The question is - 

     How hard are you willing to fight for it?

     How much courage do you have? 

And,  ultimately - 

     How strongly do you believe in whatever it is 

          that could change your path..........................forever?   

     Are you willing to lose those things that,
          while they may not have brought you any of the answers
     or the happiness that you have been searching for,
     have been a constant in your life - reliable, and "always there"?

It is easy to continue following the same path,
     taking very little risk, in the process,
but the reality is that, very often, those "constants" in your life . . . . .  are just an illusion. 

The bigger question is -

     Are you leading an AUTHENTIC life?

          A life that you believe in?

               A life where you feel like you "fit" into the picture?

     A life where you are surrounded by people with whom you believe in,
          and they, in turn, believe in you?    

Something to think about . . . . . . . . on a Tuesday afternoon. 









 

 

Soccer Mom

Last night,
as I sat down with 3 awesome ladies to discuss the logistics of getting our sons

from points A, B,C, D, E, and F, to points G, H, and J, 3 DAYS A WEEK, 

while, somehow, managing time for them to do homework, eat dinner,and sleep 

I realized: 

I AM A SOCCER MOM.  

My kids have been playing soccer for YEARS, so technically,
I have been a soccer mom (in denial) for YEARS.

And, when I say "in denial", it is not because I have anything against soccer.

On the contrary, it has been a very positive influence in the lives of my children,
especially, my youngest son, who is quite passionate about the sport.
I thoroughly enjoy watching him and his teammates play.

It is just that the term "Soccer Mom" seems to diminish the "Mom" definition down to just one job duty. It would be like calling an Office Manager a Pencil Provider,
or a Day Care Provider a Babysitter, or a . . . well, you get the point.  

After realizing, however, that it takes a 3 hour meeting (and a few alcoholic beverages),
and 4 people to figure out and organize 3 nights of soccer practices to drive 6 boys to and from practice,for a total of 6 hours a week, NOT TO MENTION the weekend soccer games and tournaments,WHILE ALSO managing the activities of the other children in the household,
managing "the household", and maintaining the general sanity of the family unit . . .

< DEEP BREATH >

I have officially become . . .

A SOCCER MOM.