Day Two

Day two started out with a bang, quite literally.  I got the kids to bed, tucked myself into my too-big bed and promptly fell asleep to the sound of the wind whipping around my house, whistling through my windows and banging the front porch swing against the house.  Since I am an Olympic-caliber sleeper, it didn't bother me much.  Remember, I slept though a tornado once.
My dear daughter doesn't have the sleep-stamina that I have and woke me up from a dead sleep about 1:00 with terror in her voice.  She wanted to know if I had heard that loud noise.  Um, obviously, "No."
"It was so loud it shook" her bed.
Nope, didn't hear a thing.
But, since I am a single parent for the next ten days, I got up to investigate.  (Note to self, be more grateful for the times that JJ does this.)  I looked out the window and noticed that the garbage can had been blown over.  Obviously that must have been the noise.
As much as I wanted to leave the stupid thing where it was, I put on my sweatshirt and shoes and trudged down the driveway and dragged the garbage can and recycling bin back into the garage.  Did I mention that the wind was gusting to 50 mph, it was after 1:00 am and I was only half-awake?
I got back in the house and Boo was still a little shaken.  She wasn't convinced that the garbage can had made the noise that had shaken her bed.  She asked if I had checked the mailbox. (The reason that our mailbox is on a temporary stand is a long story, but no, I hadn't checked the mailbox.)  And of course, she was right.  The wind had blown the mailbox right over.  The mailbox that is (was) solidly attached to some 4x4 posts.  The heavy heavy mailbox and temporary stand.
I left it where it was.
I didn't need it being blown over and shaking her bed again. 



I got up this morning, stood it up and tied it to the porch railing.  I couldn't find the bungee cords, or I would have used them.  I think that bungee-corded mailboxes that are barely attached to temporary posts just scream "high class" don't you?

My twine looks less solid and more like a spider web, but it didn't fall over again, so we'll call that a victory for Shannon. Yay me!
The rest of the day was pretty uneventful.  And I am grateful for that.

Day One

This crappy rainy weather is doing nothing to improve my mood.  Took Jables to the airport today for the first of 10 flights he has in the next 11 days:  home, Chicago, Tokyo, Manila, Cebu, back to Manila, Beijing, Dalian, Tokyo, Chicago, home.

Yes, I was bummed.  I actually like him.  And I don’t mean the typical, “I love you but I don’t like you.”  I like him and I hate being away from him.  (Gag, barf, puke, I know.)  I was a little weepy as I pulled away, which was super-helpful as I drove through the steady rain.  I was nearly home when I got a call from a strange number.  I decided I had better answer it and it was Jables.  He had left his phone in my car.  I think he just wanted another kiss.  ;)

I got to turn around and drive back to the airport.  Yay!  I gave Jables his phone, got another kiss and drove home where I managed to accomplish these things: 

1.        Made the kids a warm and nutritious breakfast of toaster waffles and Flintstones chewables.

2.       Took a nap.

3.       Dragged the kids to the grocery store and bought them a nutritious meal of Wal-Mart popcorn chicken and potato wedges.  It was a throw-back to the old days when I used to bribe them with that meal.

4.       Put the groceries away.

5.       Took another nap (There was a cat on my lap.  It was mandatory.)

6.       Shuffled the kids to and from their practices.

7.       Spent 30 minutes on the treadmill.

8.       Made a real dinner:  spaghetti, homemade meatballs and salad.  (Actual green food.) 

9.       Watched part of the Grammy’s and had some ice cream with Magic Shell. 

10.   Cleaned up the kitchen and edited some photos.

11.   Bored you with this post.

I think that today was an all-around victory.  Even KJ fell prey to the cat-napping monster. 

Boo was able to resist and get some crocheting done. She wins for most productive day.

 

Eleven

This child, my first-born, eleven years old, lover of sports, speaker of a million words, maker of random noises, is going to be the death of me. I adore him. He is a good boy. He is smart. He has fantastic manners. He is kind-hearted. He is goofy and makes me laugh. He is also competitive. I won't say where that came from. It certainly wasn't from his mother. (Ahem.) Yesterday, we were out in my mom and dad's backyard, playing catch. Now, I'll be honest with you: until a couple of years ago, playing catch was not exactly fun. It consisted of me tossing the ball to KJ and praying that it didn't hit him in the face. And then he would chase it down then throw it back to (nowhere near) me. Lather, rinse, repeat. As he has gotten older, catch has actually become fun. We are able to both throw the ball and catch it. It's a miracle. This year, KJ is playing travel ball for the first time. So, we've ramped up the competitiveness just a bit. Let's go back to the bakyard, where mother and son are enjoying a nice game of catch. I finally feel confident enough in KJ's ability to catch the ball that I don't need to throw nicely with him. So, after we warmed up, I started throwing a little harder. I let loose with one and his eyes got all big and he said, "Mom, I didn't know you could throw the ball hard." What's a mom to do? I started throwing a little harder yet and he kept making these faces at me like he was absolutely amazed. I'll admit, it made me smile. I love the fact that my throwing ability impressed an 11-year-old boy. What more can a mom ask for than to amaze her kids? We kept throwing and it didn't take long for me to get a little wild. KJ thought I was doing it on purpose: throwing risers and curveballs. He kept asking me how I did it. I don't have a clue. I just grab the ball and throw and it does wacky stuff (just ask my sister, who played first base to my shortstop for several years.) But I kept throwing because I was impressing my kid. And that made me happy. And I woke up this morning with a seriously stiff shoulder. All in the name of winning the adulation of my eleven-year-old son. Yes, it was worth it.

Life Lessons

See that purple splotch on the inside of KJ's mouth? That's a bruise.
How in the world does one get a bruise on the inside of one's mouth?

The answer:
Be an eleven-and-a-half-year-old boy and start finding that it is hard to control your temper.
Miss a few shots while playing basketball in the backyard.
Get totally hacked off.
Bounce the ball as hard as you can.

Forget to move your face.

To his credit, he hasn't complained once. He knows it was a bone-head move. I'm just glad it didn't get him in the nose.

Having a moment...

Being a parent it hard.
Where do you draw the line between comforting a broken heart and taking the hard stance of, "Life lesson, honeybunch."
Especially when you know that a little more hard work might have made all the difference.
But, there's that whole idea of natural consequences. I love natural consequences, as long as they don't cause physical harm, or severe emotional damage.
She'll be over it tomorrow, right?
And maybe try a little harder next time.
Or not.
Because in the grand scheme of things, she's eight and this isn't going to affect her ability to become a contributing member of society.
Ugh. Being a parent is hard.

Joy and Pain

Ahhhh, the joys of raising a daughter.
Don't get me wrong here, I love my daughter. She is smart and funny and is a great helper. She loves animals and loves to read and is starting to love volleyball. She is a great student and is perfectly well-behaved at school and for other people.
Our only struggle is that she is unimaginably strong-willed. Our first glimpse of that was when she was about 10 months old and threw up on her cherished "Yellowie" (the blanket) in the car. I changed her clothes and tried to put her back in the carseat without the barf-soaked blanket. 25 minutes later, we were still walking around the parking lot. I could not physically get her into that car seat. And she was under a year old.
Then there was the day we were shoe shopping. She was a little over two and insisted on getting in the car seat by herself. I forgot about that and tried to put her in. Kicking, back arching and screaming ensued. After about 5 minutes, I got her back out and told her in a less-than-kind manner to climb back in herself. She threw her head back, right into the edge of the door and started crying more. That's when I looked across the parking lot and saw a lady watching me, cell phone in hand. I put DD back in the car and then climbed in myself and counted to 10. My sweet little, 4 1/2 year-old son said, "Mommy, you are scaring me." It took another 10 minutes of "Scary Mommy" plus almost all my weight to get her into that car seat.
Fast forward 6 years. She's beautiful and smart and wonderful and every once in a while, that bull headedness comes out. (She's a Taurus. No surpise there.) Today it was over homework, for no good reason other than she didn't want to do it.
My parents tell me my sister was similarly strong willed, and she grew up just fine. In fact, she's quite awesome.
So, I have faith that DD will do the same. There are just those moments when I feel like a failure as a parent. And then she comes over and gives me a hug out of the blue and it's all better.