Thursday, October 21, 2010
Took Emmerson to school yesterday. Stopped at Spangles because Iabsolutetlyneeded an egg and cheese bagel. It was HOT and I was so excited to eat it. Got home. Unloaded the boys. Walk to the front door only to realize I don’t have my house key. It, along with my mail box key, is on a little ring that clips off. It’s really handy when it’s hot, or cold, so I can leave the car running while I grab the mail. Or when I want to send my son to grab the mail for me. Anyhow, after I got the mail the night before I apparently didn’t clip the keys back on. Awesome.
Open the garage door only to find that the screen is latched because I keep this bitch locked up like Fort Knox, whether or not I’m home. Sit the boys down in the garage and walk around the house to find an open window that I can hopefully pop the screen out of and climb in. Unsuccessful.
Head back the garage pissed because my bagel is getting cold. Seriously? This has to happen the one time in six months I decide to treat myself to such a delicious, unhealthy breakfast?
I realize I have two options: wait until my husband gets home Friday from his elk hunt or find the power drill. Since sitting a garage for 2 and a half days isn’t logical I get the power drill and completely remove hinges from screen door and unlatch it. (Unlatching the door while holding it proved trickier than I figured it would be but I have mad skills, yo.) Get inside to not-really-enjoy my now cold bagel and discover they forgot the hot sauce I requested.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Yesterday, while I ran a quick errand, I came home and my husband told me the doctor’s office called to remind me of Ryder’s appointment at 10:40am, today. Because I am “Super Mom” of course I remembered. Duh.
So this morning I drop off Emmerson and Cortland at my mother-in-law’s house so I can actually make it through the appointment with minimal issues, other than the one I had with me. Ryder and I arrive, on time because I’m that awesome, and he heads straight to the aquarium while I get him checked in.
Me: “Hi, I have Ryder for his check-up.”
The girl reaches for his file and comes up with a blank look.
Me: “Yes. We have a 10:40 appointment.”
Girl: “Hmmm. Hold on a minute.”
She goes to the back, I assume to get his file. I’m wondering why they didn’t have it pulled. She comes back.
Girl: “Are you sure his appointment is today?”
Me: “Yes, someone called yesterday to confirm.”
Girl: “Hang on a minute.”
She comes back with the office manager. This can’t be good.
Office manager: “We don’t have anything down for him today. I see that he has an appointment next week though.”
Me: “That’s strange. Someone called yesterday to confirm.”
OM: “I don’t see anything that shows someone called. But we can get him in with the PA right now, since you’re already here.”
Me: “That’s fine with me. Thanks.”
They get us right in and I don’t even think twice about the fact they called to confirm but somehow we aren’t on the schedule now. Someone else might have begun to wonder but not “Super Mom.” I just go with the flow, people.
We get through the appointment and I pick up the kids. We’re headed to grab lunch when my husband calls to see what I’m doing. I tell him we just left Ryder’s three year check-up.
Zach: “Oh, he had two appointments today?”
Me: “What? No, just his three year check-up.”
Zach: “You didn’t take him to the dentist? What happened?”
Me: “Dentist? What in the hell are you talking about?”
Zach: “I told you Dr. Moore’s office called to confirm his appointment yesterday.”
Me: “What??? I didn’t hear that. I only heard doctor. You’re telling me he was supposed to be at the dentist???”
Zach: “Pretty much.”
I think this story illustrates something of importance here: My husband obviously needs to work on speaking more clearly.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Happy birthday, Ryder Grey. I don’t know how it’s possible that you are already three years old because it seems like just yesterday you were camped out in my belly. You are such a mess but I wouldn’t have you any other way - you know how to make me smile when I want to scream, laugh when I want to cry.
Much to my dismay, you have me completely wrapped around your finger and there is absolutely nothing I can do about it. Even when you tell me you don’t “wuve me in your wor-eld” I can’t help but laugh.
You love bugs and spiders, Scooby-Doo, dance parties, waffles for breakfast, mac-n-cheese for lunch, having your back tickled, books, going to the park, dragons and dinosaurs. You like to swim and take baths, look for deer, go fishing, making your sister scream and anything that belongs to Aidan.
You are sweet and loving, messy and wild. Kind and considerate, rowdy and rough. You are so full of life and your spirit is contagious. You are a gift from God and I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you but I am grateful that He deemed me worthy of you. I don’t remember life before you and I can’t imagine my life without you.
You have completely captured my heart and I love you more than I ever imagined I could possibly love. So happy birthday sweet boy. Thank you for making my life sweeter than I could hope for. You are my light.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
There are many a reasons that I love my husband but this is definitely at the top of the list. Oh, husband of mine. Thank you so very much for the laugh.
Let me preface this story by telling you that I think men should keep their ear hair trimmed. With that said, I make sure my husbands are so he’s not on the other end of this story. Clearly I’ve done my job because he is now aware of men with unruly ear hair as well.
Zach was flying home last week, after being out town for business, when he noticed the man in front of him looked as though he had, in his words, beavers in his ears. The amount of ear hair this man had was something he had never seen and because of this, he felt it was a very good idea to document it with a picture.
He quietly got the camera on his phone ready to go and placed it as close as he could get it to the man’s ear, without being obvious. All would have gone as planned had the 90 year old woman behind him shouted, “Look at his camera!”
The man quickly turned around and found Zach in position to get a picture. Did I mention the man was not Caucasian?
Ear hair man: “Why are you taking my picture?”
Zach: “I’m not.”
90 year old lady: “Yes you are!”
EHM: “Tell me why you’re taking my picture!!”
Zach: “I’m not taking your picture.”
90 year old lady: “Yes, you are. I saw you.”
EHM: “You’re taking my picture because you think I’m a terrorist. Don’t you?”
Zach: “NO! I don’t think you’re a terrorist.”
90 year old lady: “Why are you taking his picture?”
EHM: “You think I’m a terrorist!”
Zach: “I don’t think you’re a terrorist.”
Zach starts to panic as the man is getting louder and louder. He begins to worry he’ll be thrown off the plane.
EHM: “Tell me why you’re taking my picture!!!”
Zach: “You wanna know the truth?”
Zach: “It’s your ear hair.”
Zach: “I’ve never seen anything like it. I was trying to take a picture of it.”
EHM: Turns around. Confused. Probably pissed.
Guy sitting beside Zach: Laughs until he cries.
Zach: Has decided his days of snapping pictures of ear hair for his wife to see are over.
Me: Can’t believe I wasn’t there to witness one of the most hilarious things that has ever happened to my husband. Laughed until I cried. Will keep encouraging him to keep documenting ear hair bandits, if only for my own selfish reasons.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
When I told my husband about the most mortifying moment of my life to date he immediately pointed his finger at me and said that I am the one who taught him that word.
I asked for proof.
Now I’d like to share with you one of the ways I keep my children entertained.
Yes, two water bottles is all it took and these two were content for 3 hours. If you are interested in more information regarding parenting techniques that work, let me know. Clearly, I’ve got this thing down.
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Yesterday was Emmerson’s preschool field trip to the pumpkin patch, which is always a hit because, really, who doesn’t love picking out pumpkins? What was even more fun is one of her friends from class got to ride with us, as well as her teacher.
It was also made very clear that Ryder will be the death of me, probably before he’s 6.
I’ll miss you all.
Emmerson and her friend are in the back giggling about everything and it seems Ryder was just looking for some peace and quiet. Miss Kathy and I are talking when I hear the following from my not-quite three year old little boy, “you fucka’s.” In the rearview mirror I see Channing look absolutely mortified. I stiffen. And because I guess I wanted to make a really good impression on Miss Kathy I ask him what he said. I should have known better.
“I called them fucka’s because they won’t stop.”
Looks like I won’t be driving other children on field trips anymore.
Thanks Ryder. I appreciate all you do for me and my reputation as a parent.
Your mortified mother
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Do you ever look at your kids and wonder, where in the hell did they get that? I pretty much do that about 13 times a day. Then, I just blame it on Zach because that’s the most logical explanation I can come up with.
Sometimes I think I’m pretty quick when it comes to good ideas. For instance, after Ryder was born I was certain that one more child was exactly what we needed. That proved true, regardless of the looks I get from people when I’m out in public, by myself, with all four of them and three of them are crying.
Other times it takes me time to come up with the perfect idea. Such is the case regarding Ryder’s birthday parties. For the last two years they’ve just been simple parties at home with the family. They’ve been fun. The cake has always been delicious because I think you should always make sure you have a great cake. It can make or break your birthday, really. The only thing lacking has been pizzazz.
And let me tell you, I love pizzazz. I do. I think it’s important. Much like jazz hands. They can really make a situation. I’d like to encourage you to give it a try sometime. After that, have your kids give them a good shake. That’s even better.
This year, I’ve finally come up with the perfect idea for my little dude’s birthday. Now, this is something I really should have come up with two years ago, but sometimes a girl needs time (After all, it did take me well into adulthood before I found out about Alaska but that’s neither here, nor there). With that said, this years birthday theme is….wait for it….Halloween. I know, brilliant, right?
I’m so excited to have a birthday/Halloween party that I can hardly stand it. Costumes for EVERYONE! I’ll be sure to post pictures but you’ll have to wait – it’s not for another week and a half. But know this – it’s going to rock.
In other news, my children really like to screw with me. We put them to bed two hours ago and guess what? Two of them are still awake because they hate me. It’s not enough that I am with them from the break of dawn until bedtime, and when they are up in the middle of the night. They just want me to snuggle them and tickle their backs. Oh, it’s nice to be loved but seriously. Mama just wants to drink some wine and facebook in peace.
Doesn’t anyone want to bug dad? Buhler? Buhler? Anyone?
Friday, October 1, 2010
Tomorrow would be my parents 34th wedding anniversary. It’s hard to believe my mom died before they got to celebrate their 26th. I’ve been thinking about this anniversary for quite some time, more so than previous years, probably because my relationship with my dad has changed so much over the last year.
You know what I remember most about growing up? Laughing. And my brother getting grounded all the time because he could never shut his trap. It’s true. One of my dad’s favorite phrases was, “If you think I’m kidding, try me.” So my brother always did. Certainly he needed to know if our dad was kidding or not. Unfortunately for my brother, dad was never kidding and he was always grounded.
My parents loved to have fun and my dad loved to pester my mom. It was one of my favorite things about their marriage and I can’t count the number of times I was in tears because my dad was being such a pain in the ass. I’m pretty sure that’s why I pester Zach so much now. It’s what you do to those you love.
My mom and dad were River Festival Volunteers of the Year. They were a force to be reckoned. Give them a goal to sell 500,000 River Festival buttons and they’d sell 503,000, damn it. Okay, maybe not that many but they sold a lot. In fact, they loved selling buttons so much that every year on Mother’s Day they’d make us sell them too. Yippee!
My parents were popular too. Everyone loved to hang out with them and there were always friends at our house. They were so much fun to be around and everyone loved them. My friends included. It never ceased to amaze me when I’d get home and my friends would be there – hanging with my parents. And for the record, it rocks to have parents that everyone loves.
My parents are also who taught me about politics, even if my dad was so far to the right it hurt. In fact, after I spent my freshman year at KU (ROCK CHALK. Never mind that was the only year I spent there…) he told me I was too liberal for him. The irony of it now!!!! While my dad and I debated such topics as welfare, my mom would roll her eyes and tell my dad to quiet down since he could never discuss them in a normal decibel range.
KU sports, mom’s chili, everyone decorating the Christmas tree while dad supervised, their love of the lake and how proud they were to build their cabin from the ground up, deck parties, their willingness to support us kids in whatever we chose to do, the way mom and dad absolutely perfected the fine art of having a hot meal prepared all at once. Mom cooked inside, dad on the grill. Perfection. Every time. These are things I remember about my parents. Our family. Their friends. The beautiful life they created.
Some of the best parts of my marriage come from what I learned from my parents.
So happy #34 mom and dad. I celebrate your marriage, your life together, your love. Thank you for giving me the best upbringing a girl could wish for.
Mom, I miss you more than I ever dreamed possible. Dad, I love you more than you will ever know.