Don't Wanna

OK-so you call this whining; I call this therapy. Please do not underestimate me. This list will continue to grow. I’m just getting started…

I don’t wanna….

…go on another diet-A-gain.
….hear about how exercise is the only thing that really works.
…think negative thoughts then have to say something nice.
…color my roots every 4 wks.
…share my diet pepsi.
….talk to you when I’m peeing.
…turn off the lights before going to bed.
...play nice.
...bite my tongue.
…give up naps.
…pay the piper.
…pick up clothes off the floor-A-gain.
…hear how inspiring your inservice was.
…hear about your upcoming cruise-paid for by your husband’s business.
…get my eyebrows-and other things-waxed on a regular basis.
…or go to that place that starts with an “s”!

Nowena Polly Boyd

I occasionally tease my youngest son about how much I wanted him to be a girl when I was pregnant with him. So this morning, I decided to twist the knife a little. Here's our conversation:

Mom: "Hey Noah. How 'bout we change you into a girl for 2nd grade this year? No one will ever know. We can grow your hair in pigtails, paint your toenails pink, get you a Hannah Montana backpack, and change your name to Nowena Polly Boyd. Next year for 3rd grade, you can be a boy again. No one will ever know-promise."

Noah: (looking at me with utter disdain & amazement)....."Das bisgusting." And then he walked out of the room.

So I guess that's a no. I won't be walking down the pink aisle in Target anytime soon.

End of an Era

Tonight is my swan song. I will be working my final shift as pool monitor: aka- the pool slut. So I am officially announcing my retirement. To be honest, I haven’t been well suited (pardon the pun) to the job. Opening a gate while idly sitting under the cabana for hours sipping diet Pepsi & gossiping with neighbors has been…well, exhausting. The definition of a slut is one who willingly & enthusiastically gives a service for free. Gladly and frequently faking it is just not my strong suit. I do have to thank Mr. B however for making my pool slut tenure bearable. I was able to manipulate him 79% of the time into taking over my shift by whining, “But it’s sooooooo ho-ot outside!” while also cashing 100% of the paychecks to spend at Target. Now THAT I will miss….

So I’m not gonna say it’s been great…..I’m not even gonna thank all the little people who helped make it possible…and anyone who reminds me of this in the future will be beaten without mercy with a pool noodle.

Footnote: Outsourced my pool duties tonight by promising to pay big kid $10 to open the gate...and anything else I might think of.... Nothing beats 11 year old labor.

Happy Birthday!

This is the card that Ethan made for his dad's 43rd birthday.

How did the 11 year old become become an existentialist?

Next year his card will probably read, "Happy Birthday? Why bother???"

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R's b-day was spent at the Japanese restaurant Wasabi with Ethan, Noah, Honey, Joe, Gini, grandmother, and myself. Great food & company! The boys bought him scratch lottery tickets since all their conversations always lead to the topic of winning big. A stop at the gas station to pick out the winning numbers was our last task before calling it a night!
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Another one down the drain....!

Boxwell 09'

Ethan & Nash: Boxwell Warriors
Ethan's home-away-from-home

Crazed Boxwell Berserkers!!!

Lil' brother takes a turn in the camp sling

The Boxwell Gang

The Three Amigos!!!

C-man, N-man, E-man

Mess Hall Duty-ICKY!!!

After Dinner Formation

Afterward:

Not a single one of these boys was ready to return home after a week away from the comforts of home!!!

Camping

My dear friend Geneva gave me these delightful cocktail napkins as a souvenir from her trip to Oregon. Please keep in mind that I am the mother of a cub scout, a boy scout, and the wife of a den leader (who is an avid collector of all things Coleman). Peeing on poison ivy in the middle of the night is NOT my idea of fun. It is also very important that I am surrounded by perfect temperature control at all times-no sweating or shivering for me, please-else there's hell to pay. Probably the reason I'm not invited on many of these outings.

Here is an excerpt from my 2008 Christmas letter on which I did reflect on my one-and only-scout camping trip:

Camping is a relative experience: for some, consuming weak coffee & cold eggs for breakfast, sleeping (an impossibility when camping) on a half inflated mattress in freezing temps, no showers (unless you are a polar bear), 132 hikes uphill to the latrine in the dark, endless treks through a mud gulley, and smoke & dirt filled tents & clothes can actually be considered FUN to some people. For others, the return to civilization is worth the 29 loads of laundry!

Notable Quotes:

Camping: nature's way of promoting the motel industry. ~Dave Barry,

Some national parks have long waiting lists for camping reservations. When you have to wait a year to sleep next to a tree, something is wrong. ~George Carlin

Underneath Your Clothes

When lil' brother was about three & a half years old, his big brother used a particular taunt that would completely unhinge him with 100% accuracy. The taunt was usually unleashed in the car-a safe place to taunt lil' brother since he was completely lashed & strapped down. It went like this:

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Big bro: "Hey Noah, did you know that underneath your clothes, you're naked !?!"

Lil' brother: (eyes wide & rolling, straining against the seat belt) "Nuh-uh!"

Big bro: (giggling) "Yes, you are! Look inside your shirt! See? NAKED!!!"

Lil' brother: "I'S NOT NAKED UNDERNEAF MY CWOSE!"

Big bro: (gleefully) "UH-HUH!" Just ask mom!"

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...at which point all hell breaks loose in the backseat...unnatural & sickening sounds of groans, thumps, jolts, screams....

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Big bro: (howling in rage) "HE JUST KICKED ME!"

Lil' brother: "Das right! Cuz I NOT NAKED underneaf my cwose."

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Nobody makes fun of lil' brother's nakedness and walks away to laugh about it...ever.

Haters Unite!

I am feelin’ the love from a group of haters.

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Mission Accomplished: I am back to my old hater status. Thanks to intense scrutiny, ruthless tactics, Absolut Vodka, and a group of unmerciless ASSES, I have been saved from myself-or at least warned of the consequences should such error in judgment occur in the future. As one hater warned (completely dead behind the eyes), “You’re still under the microscope...”

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Breaking ranks in a group of haters is dangerous business- they’ll have you bleating like a baby goat in no time. But that’s enough of the true confessions for one year. All I can say is it’s gonna be somebody’s else turn next time!

So here’s to hate’n....whore-as!!

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Bad Habits

Need to work on these:

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Reading all the Jon Gosselin (Jon & Kate PLus 8) articles on People.com and spending a lot of time & thought on how he needs to suffer for being such a selfish @ss hole.

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Counting down the days til Housewives of Atlanta...and feeling excited about watching the ghetto-trash-trainwreck.

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Counting the salt water pool as "bath time" for the summer.

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Starting movies at 9:30 PM and conversations at 11:45 PM.

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Windexing the counter tops counts as "housework" for the day.

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Checking Facebook 9,346 times a day.

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Pretending that I don't have a job that starts in 2 wks.

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Walking past 7 loads of laundry.

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Wearing the bathrobe well after 12 noon.

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<...sigh...>

Voila!

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Capiello's art hangs in my breakfast nook.

This piece really captures the joy of spaghetti night

at the Boyd chateau!

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Bon appetit!!!

Philosophy

Blither Blather Philosophy-101:

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Never leave home without your big panties.

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If you teach people how to treat you, why not be a queen about it???

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Take your medicine straight up. Serve it the same way.

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Getting even is really immature. But it's ve-ry rewarding!

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I’m too old to fake it-and frankly, my dear…

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Suffer in silence? I think not.

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All stories are better when you lie a little.

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A mid-life crisis is only funny when it happens to other people.

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Go ahead-get the last word. Somebody's got to.

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Chinese Wisdom

Have a mouth as sharp as a dagger

but a heart as soft as tofu.

Chinese Proverb

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Recollection:

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As a small child I lived with my family in Taiwan while my dad served in the Air Force. Mama-san Judy was our Chinese housekeeper & pinch-hit babysitter. She was a petite, dour, unpredictable, & unreadable force in our house. As my little brother & I sat at the kitchen table eating our lunch, I vividly remember her slamming open the oven & saying to us, "You be bad-I chop off your head and cook it in oven!"

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And I think we were very, very good that day.

Milestone

Dear Blither Blather readers,

My goal was to have 20 followers by the time school started-and I am overwhelmed to say that goal was accomplished well before then. Thank you so much for your kind patronage! I love to get your comments & feedback-they mean a great deal to me. So as a token of my gratitude, I am going to share with you my favorite joke- and the only one I have ever been able to memorize. Of course, if you have a sensitivity to wordy-dirds-please accept my thanks-and pass on the joke. But for the rest of you, here goes!

Joke:

Two strangers, a man & a woman, had the uncomfortable misfortune of having to share a berth on a trans-continental train ride. Although slightly embarrassed, they agreed that the man would take the top bunk, the woman the lower. At 1 AM the man leans over the bunk and whispers to the woman," Excuse me ma'am. It's cold in here. Could you please hand me the blanket from the closet?"

The woman responds, "How 'bout we pretend we're married for just this one night?"

The man can't believe his good fortune! "That would be great!" he replies.

And the woman sweetly responds, "Get your own f*cking blanket!"

And after a moment of silence...........the man farted.

....for some reason, married people always love this one!!!

Lost

On the way to the drive-in-movies in Water Town, we inadvertantly missed our turn and followed a long and winding road eeriely reminiscent of Ichabod Crane's travels in Washington Irving's The Legend of Sleepy Hollow (may that unfortunate school master rest in peace). Twilight was ebbing into darkness. The road began to crumble and narrow as we cautiously made our way through the dense, overhanging foliage. The abandoned houses stared back at us with blank, watchful eyes. And wisps of mist began to slither along the edges of the decaying road. From the backseat, big brother whispers, " Where do you think this road leads?" And little brother knowingly answers, "Chaos....dus'.....chaos."

...and we made a u-turn...and got the hell out of there!!!

BTW-Ice Age III was a hoot!!! Just gotta love Sid the Sloth!!!

House Cleaning

So this is how I feel about this subject...

It's probably about time to go back to school...

because I am becoming psychotically irritated about cleaning & picking up

the SAME THINGS EVERY DAY.

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"Housework, if you do it right, will kill you."

Erma Bombeck (may she rest in peace)

Picnic Romance

Much to the boys' delight, I packed a picnic supper to take to the pool. They loved opening the different containers and munching & slurping on soup and sandwiches and lemonade-much more exciting than dinner at the boring ol' supper table. Overcome with the novelty of picnicking, Noah says to me, "Dis soup is a piece of art." Not to be outdone by his younger (and more romantic) brother, Ethan chimes in with," Mom, you're the best trophy wife ever!"

The next time I receive such romantic, competitive compliments, I hope to have taken a shower, not worn my hair in ponytail all day, and to have changed from my house cleaning shorts & pink GRITS t-shirt! NOT the attire of a trophy wife!

fyi: GRITS (girls raised in the south)

Wink! Wink!

“A nod is as good as a wink to a blind horse.”
Irish Sayings

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I have been winked at by two men this summer.

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The first wink was from a dad of triplets who was casually strolling through the pool gate in front of his frazzled wife who was herding the triplets who were dragging towels and dropping pool toys. As I patiently held the gate for their brood-it happened. A brief moment of eye contact-and the wink! crooked grin!

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The next wink occured at church. On Holy Communion Sunday. As my hand hovered over the body and blood-the unthinkable happened: wink! crooked grin! And at that moment the line backed up behind me and there was a moment of confused grid lock in the aisle.

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Now I'm not calling harm or foul over these innocent eye twitches. But honestly-it just made me feel-well-old & tired. Use the wink for the 4-11 year old crowd. They love it. But for the jaded 40 and over crowd-a nod, a tilt of the chin, a simple shoulder shrug, or a pained grimace will do nicely. Because the best I can offer in return for

the wink-is the eye roll.

Haunted

It happened a few nights ago. I tried to ignore it. But it keeps haunting me. In my dream I am in a strange, urban city teeming with activity, noise, techno-color, & pulsing energy. My heart rate is up, eyes dilated, nerves tingling. I am surrounded by 2,000 teenagers who are hopping & popping around me like energetic dolphins about to form a school and rush off into the deep.... wait a minute...SCHOOL? OMG!!! WE'RE LATE FOR SCHOOL!!! I am supposed to herd this impossiblly fluid, slippery group TO SCHOOL-across 50 blocks of traffic-and my principal is pacing the school foyer... I jolt awake...look at the time... and realize the grim, hopeless, unavoidable truth that has permeated my brain like slow drip poison: I am going back to school. Summer is almost over. And I punch the pillow and roll into the fetal position.

Reasons to be a Teacher:

June

Most of July

...WTF!...what happened to August?!?!?

Tough Talk

Last night around the fire pit (after lil' bro & I had left) R & Ethan had the "going to middle school-puberty talk." According to Richard, here is a list of the topics they covered in the glow of burning embers: erections, fighting, being popular, drugs, naked ladies, a few technical details on sex, computer pornography, and a WWII question. By the time Richard recited this list my eyebrows had jumped a foot above my head. When I set Richard on this task, I'm not sure I anticipated that they would travel ALL these paths. After my initial shock wore off and my pulse returned to normal, R & I debriefed this conversation-and, yes, even chuckled about it. ("Dad, why would ladies let somebody take a naked picure of them???").
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Our philosophy is this: our son will be exposed to the ways of the world-with or without our knowledge or approval. We intend to be ahead of the world's ways-not chasing after it and our son. We need our son to hear & know our plan for him, and most importantly God's plan for him. I was really proud of the depth of the conversations, the realism of the world that Richard did not ignore, Ethan's ability (right now) to hear his parents' hopes & dreams for him, and the purity and ease in which father & son discussed these critical issues. Now it's my turn. R has given me the follow up job-the easier job by far. I am excited to share the "woman's perspective" with my son (and correct a few of his father's bits of wisdom!)-I just hope I don't have to answer the WWII question!

Multi-what???

Hubby & I were discussing the house & yard chores that needed to be accomplished for the day & how that would be handled. Here is a snippet of that conversation:

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Him: "So what is it called again when you do two things at one time?"

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Me: " ....uh...you mean 'multi-tasking'?"

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Him: "Yeah, that's it. I can never remember that word."

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...I am not going to tell you every little thing that enters my head ...because I am trying to keep this blog PG-13.

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Notable Quotes:

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"Man is made for something more than disturbing dirt."

Oscar Wilde

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"I hate housework! You make the bed, you do the dishes-and six months later you have to start all over again."

Joan Rivers

Band Wagon...C'mon ya'll!!!

I once bought a dress at Target for $3.84-NO LIE!!! It still hangs in my closet, and I still love it. But what I most love about this dress is the braggin’ rights I bought with it. I got at least $10 worth of talk time with this deal. I told EVRYBODY about this dress. Just ask my school friends. So-when I stumble across a good deal or a good thing-I HAVE to share it with you. So let’s move beyond this hook into the real purpose of this entry; if you are reading this-I want you to seriously consider... becoming a BLOGGER! Before you X out of this entry-let me make my case.
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As a novice blogger, I have been searching for other blogs to read & learn from & have found several that really speak to me. But why do I have to search far & wide for the comfort of female voices and experiences when those voices & experiences are right on my doorstep? Yeah-I’m talkin’ about YOU!!! The truth is women need each other, and we connect to authentic experiences. So it’s time for you to share that wisdom, the agony, the frustration, the joys, the-ever-evolving journey that you’re on. And I promise I will save you in my favorites and read your blog with devotion!
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Getting started: blogspot.com is an easy way to use templates to get you up & running quickly. A good friend of mine recommended this site (although she insists on being irritatingly anonymous!). I was a blogging dummy & novice technophile (I just made that word up!) & managed this site fine.

What to blog about? Here’s the Golden Rule of Blogging: if it makes you snort, chuckle, or roll your eyes-it’s worth blogging about. Not into words? Use pics or graphics, quotes, scripture, song lyrics, or brief details about your day. It won’t take long…you’ll be hitting the keyboard often! When in doubt-start with the hubby or kids or pets-they're a mine field of topics.

Voice vs Mechanics: Your VOICE is the reason people will follow your blog-not your grammar skills. Insecure about dangling participles??? Fuh-get-abou- it!!! One of the joys of blogging is its informality. We just want to connect to your daily experiences while hearing it from your own unique viewpoint. So just be truthful-even ugly if necessary. We get it-really.

Audience: OK-this is a tricky one-not gonna lie. How do you honestly blog about your imperfect life when your audience includes: your provencial great aunt; your 16 yr old neighbor who has worshipped you since she was 6; your overly religious, disapproving cousin; your midnight tokin’ high school buddies; your ex-sister-in-law; the minister’s wife; your liberal Bohemian friend from NY who actually takes part in real world events; your sarcastic bff; and your pessimistic co-worker? Put them in a huddle and sweetly tell them to...#$%*! Another blogging rule: you’re gonna horrify SOMEbody. Being truthful has that effect on people. But the real audience member you most need to worry about pleasing? YOURSELF. Period. Care about her for a while…and the others will get over it. Faster than you think!
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Keep me posted!

Tribute

I read in the newspaper today that the Pulitzer Prize winning author Frank McCourt is near death after a long battle with cancer. He is not expected to survive much longer and may have passed by the time you read this entry. This news made me really sad today. I have taught an excerpt from Angela's Ashes for several years now and have always boasted to the sophomores that they were hearing the real voice of a living author-that beautiful, lilting Irish brogue with the long,

wandering sentences.

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One of my most beloved books is his biographical work Teacher Man. EVERY teacher should read this work-no exceptions. It is graphically honest and unromantic, poignantly funny, and endearing. It speaks to the heart of why we continue to work in one of the toughest occupations on the planet.

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Read it-please. You won't regret it.

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from the author:

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Telling why he wrote about his childhood some six decades after he experienced it, Frank McCourt told C-Span Booknotes" host Brian Lamb in 1997: "I always wanted to be a writer, but I
didn't know that I wanted to write about this lane in Limerick,
 this slum. Because anybody that comes from those circumstances 
doesn't want to write about it. You're ashamed of it. You don't
 have any self-esteem. "So it wasn't 'til I somehow began to gain
 some approval or acceptance from my students in New York or from 
friends of mine … I started talking about growing up 
in Limerick and – I suppose some of the stuff I told them was amusing
 and they'd laugh because … poverty is so absurd."

Ancient Voices

My summer reading took on an unintended theme this year. Quite by accident I blindly stumbled onto the historical story of Queen Esther (tile mosaic above). What followed was a search for historical fiction of other renown women of the Bible. Some of the best stories of all time come from the old testament! And these women did not disappoint. Taking a peak into the daily lives of ancient women gave me a renewed respect and admiration for the difficulties and challenges they faced in order to simply survive. And these women did more than survive-they became a life line to others. But most importantly it reminded me of the great power women have always had in the lives of men, children, each other, and the politics of the age. I hope you may be as touched by their hardship, their circumstances, their faith, their sacrifice, and their perseverance as I was.

List:

The Gilded Chamber: a novel of Queen Esther by Rebecca Kohn

Zipporah, wife of Moses by Marek Halter

Sarah by Marek Halter

Salome by Beatrice Gormley

*All Time Favorite: The Red Tent by Anita Diamante

Please pass along other titles for this genre.

Would You Rather...???

The Would You Rather Game is a family favorite pastime for killing time.

Recently while working my piddlin' pool gate summer job, Ethan posed this question to me:

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Question:

OK, Mom-would you rather be a slave to a barbarian for an entire lifetime

OR

be a pool monitor for eternity????

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Answer:

!WTF#$&!

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...a man with a BIG sword...hmmm.....let me think about that...!

Monopoly!!!

When playing Monopoly follow Noah’s philosophy: clutch all your money in one fist; roll the dice with reckless abandon; liberally spend your money free of guilt or fear of the future; be oblivious to the alliances & machinations of others while trusting in the integrity of all; give away half your fortune with no strings attached to your brother when he has been financially ruined beyond all hope; and after 5 hours you rise victorious from the ashes of other’s destruction & bankruptcy you are filled with the eternal optimism that everyone surely had as much fun as you did!

Goin' to Church

Getting ready to go to church results in very un-Christian like behavior at the Boyd house. By the time we get there-we NEED to be there! The fussing and threatening and hollering it requires would make

the holy ghost want to take a vacation.

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Get off the computer...NOW...

Yes, you HAVE to wash your hair!

I said a POLO shirt!

Not those shoes!!!

Get off the computer...NOW...

Don't make me use this brush...!

TUCK it in!

Change that shirt...it has toothpaste on it.

No, you can not take the gameboy.

Get off the computer...NOW...

Get the dog back in!

Stop touching your brother!!!

Straighten out your attitude...!

No...I don't know where the keys are...

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Lord....have mercy!

Cold Case File

I recently found this little black notebook stuffed into the pocket behind the driver's seat. Little did I know that a Boyd family mystery had been secretly recorded ... and solved!

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The detective on the case was Ethan Boyd, circa 3rd grade. The victim, Noah, is 4 years old. The incident occured on a family trip road trip. All spelling errors are phonetic and intentional.

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Please note: one parent is trying to be helpful; the other is not having any of this...
Where is that #$%* hat?!?!?!?

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...more clues...

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Dad is shaping up to be the perp and chief suspect.
Or did we leave the hat in the restaurant???
...now both parents are OVER IT...
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MIRACLE!!!
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NOAH FOUND THE HAT!!!
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...but the mystery still remains-who had the hat???...
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Breaking News:

Ethan Boyd drove his entire family insane for 4 hours and lived to brag about it!!!!
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Fast Ball

Sometimes life pitches you a fast ball that you just didn't expect.

Knowing your brother has your back makes it all better.

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Fraternity and Brotherhood

Summer '09

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The Grammar Nazi

Grammar Nazi

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As the only English teacher living at my house, you might expect me to be the language police-but not so. Mr B is the grammar Nazi at our house-specifically the pronoun Nazi. Mr B has actually caused marital disharmony and social awkwardness over his ruthless desire to insure the correct pronoun gets inserted into the conversation.

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For example, while socializing with friends the harmless question arises. “So what have you guys been up to lately?” And I absently remark, “Oh we’ve been painting the bedroom….” or “We’ve been cleaning out the garage….” or “We’ve been landscaping…” You get the idea. All three sentences share the same pronoun: we. This is when the drama begins and mild mannered Mr Boyd morphs into the pronoun Nazi. “What do you mean WE painted the bedroom?” (…or cleaned out the garage or landscaped, etc.) “Don’t you mean I painted the bedroom?” (…or cleaned out the garage or landscaped, etc.) And the incensed Mr B loudly outlines in graphic detail (with arms gesticulating) all the back breaking labor he has endured over said project to the stunned silence of his audience. Mind you-he is completely sober during this tirade. The difference between the pronouns we and I is not even worth discussing here. What Mr B repeatedly fails to understand is that he abjured the right to use the pronoun I when he became a married man. He became a part of a WE-for better or worse. Although it was I who thought up said project and planned it and put it on the calendar, I am kind enough to include him in the WE. You won't see me waving my arms in the air complaining about my admin or support staff roles, and we all know how exhausting those can be.

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So today when Mr B finished painting the pantry (a lovely celery green, I might add), he called me into the kitchen and said, “So how did we do?” And I am happy to report, “We did great!”

Top 10 Things My Mother Always Tells Me

I ran across one of Ethan's 3rd grade projects in the hall cabinent today.

It's a laminated, yellow bookmark he decorated for Mother's Day '07 and proudly gave to me. Here is his list of the top 10 things his mother always tells him:

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1. Stop fighting.

2. Do your homework.

3. Take a shower.

4. Go to bed.

5. I LOVE YOU!

(the teacher took pity on me...finally!)

6. Put up the dog.

7. Thank you!

(teacher tries again...)

8. Get dressed.

9. Go upstairs.

(...drum roll for grand finale...)

10. I am busy.

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Happy Mother's Day

Love, Ethan

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So there was a moment of horror when I read this. #10 isn't flattering...but it's true...I am busy! Mr Boyd and several of my good friends found it hi-larious! Do I really speak in imperative sentences all the time??? You try raising a boy-barian...and then tell me how you sound on a yellow bookmark. Well-there it is-like an unflattering snapshot of yourself you have to confront. This is our real life condensed by a 3rd grader-and it hangs in a place of honor in my kitchen.

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With no apologies.

Adulthood-101

My good friend Geneva saw this topic in a magazine & suggested I give it a try.

Here is my attempt...a work in progress.

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When is the moment you realized you were an adult?

A Collection of Sentinel Moments:

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Sitting with the loan officer at the bank, I am feebly explaining my bad credit history while in college so they will finance my dream condo. “Well, like, I decided to move and just didn’t, like, tell the post office where to find me….nervous giggle!" And no one is laughing.

And I want to wring my own neck. Like who could be such an idiot???

Welcome to adulthood.

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Finally we are approved to buy our first home, and the idea of purchasing appliances consumes every sleeping & waking thought, and I even find myself internet researching at embarrassing hours of the night to find the right temperature control pattern that I MUST have to live a fully functioning life. The heart pounding thrill of falling in love with an appliance can only happen

...to an adult!!!

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Listening to the air conditioner repair man discuss BTU’s, anti-freeze, pressure, and condensation AS you are writing a check for $1,000....

so THIS is adulthood ….sigh...

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The nurse rolls me down the hallway in a wheelchair so I can take our first baby home. I nervously look over my shoulder to see when the Baby Protection Agents will come bursting through the doors to rescue this little innocent being from the utter ignorance of the people who made him. As we make our getaway without incident, I look into the backseat and realize this little guy is totally depending on me to get it right-the first time. And two tons of adulthood lands

on my head in that instant. And I am officially enrolled in a crash course in

Adulthood-101.

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I am in my bathrobe, my wet hair twisted in a towel, when a police officer rings the doorbell at 5:56 AM. As he cautiously steps into the living room, he surveys the explosion of kid toys, erupted baskets of laundry, the new puppy who has galloped onto the scene who excitedly squeezes out a stinky poo in the middle of the chaos, and the ecstatic four year old in Sponge Bob undies who is bouncing with glee to see a "po-wice man" at his house-and reports that a 911 call has been made from this residence-as the 18-month-old runs into the living room in a sagging pee-filled diaper jabbering and giggling into the telephone, "a-shee-sa-de-ya-DADDY!"

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...AND I still make it to work on time.

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slam-dunk adulthood!

Bliss

Recipe:

homegrown tomates picked up from a dusty-side-of-the-road stand

cheap, no-name brand wheat bread

mayo

fresh ground pepper-be heavy handed

Load this sandwich up and you will not even make it to the table with the plate. You will eat this over the sink, and then lick the juice from your elbow-and go back and make another one.

Think you know the recipe for bliss? I don't believe you...because this is God's little gift of heaven on earth-and how do you beat THAT?

Peace

I went to Kohl's to buy two t-shirts. I was on a mission. Hubby waited in the car because this was NOT A SHOPPING TRIP. I almost made it to the cash register when it happened: a kiosk of silver peace signs in front of the junior's section. I was mesmerized by their jingle-jangly-clinky-grooviness.

Internal monologue: you're too old for this hippie stuff-this is not your style-no one your age would be caught dead wearing this-this is so adolescent- and then I bought one. And wore it immediately on my date with Mr B to the movies.

Why? Why? Why? I have seriously been wondering about this little spontaneous act of inner rebellion. If you even know me a little-you know this: peaceful, I ain't. As a matter of fact, Mr Boyd would tell you I am down right combative. And I don' think he's giving me a compliment either. I nuke first-rebuild later. Problematic? Most always. But there it is. I am owning it. So why am I 40 and wearing around a peace sign larger than a silver dollar around my neck???

Maybe I need an obvious symbol at this stage of the game-as adolescent and childish as it sounds. Peace just sounds...lovely. Some people want to own real estate: I just want to own a few minutes of freakin' peace. Is that too much to ask? And every time I look at this tacky, cheap, gaudy trinket...I just feel the love, man!

Peace Out!