NSV

NSV? What pray tell is NSV?

That is what I experienced today. NSV is a "Non Scale Victory" in WW speak.

Today dear peeps, I dragged my lax tushie back to WW to face the music And just to make it more fun, I dragged the boys, who are STILL not back in school. god help me.

I haven't been all summer. Why? Why is a very good question and I have a million reasons, but the long and short of it is I am just too dang social during the summer and don't want to be bothered with counting points or staying on Core or....or....or.

So there. pppppppppflllppttt!

But with the school year starting, I knew I ALSO had to "go back to school" so to speak. So there I stood with my little weigh in book in hand and Bambam and Thumper chattering in my ear. Hand over my debit card, step tentatively on the scale

AND

I hadn't gained a single ounce!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Not one, nada, zip, zilch!!!!

After 3 months of enjoying life and taking it easy with the regimen, I was stunned. Which leads me to two pretty earth shattering realizations for me.

1) I think after 10 plus years of WW and losing and maintenance and gaining and losing and maintenance, I have FINALLY internalized some core behavior modification. Which is

2) Only eat until satisfied And I have the CORE plan this spring to thank for THAT little wonder nugget!

Funny, I counted points until the cows came home and I was ALWAYS hungry, probably because I was obsessing over every bite that went in my mouth and not paying attention to my body instead.

3) Exercise every day. Even if it's only 15 or 20 minutes. My body loved me for it. 15 minutes of called adult swim gave me 15 minutes of uniterrupted stroke work. 30 minutes 3 times a week at my firm's gym gave me time on the treadmill to clear my head during lunch and watch BBC's "Changing Rooms" ...woot...bonus.....LOVE them!

Summer may be over, but dang skippy this momma actually learned something over the break!

Go to the head of the class....why yes I will thank you vedddy much!

Peace like a river

So, I did this 20 question "quiz" on who I am and where I am right this very moment and one of the questions was, "What is your facorite song right now?"

My answer?

see the title above and the lyrics below

I got peace like a river
Peace, like a river
Peace, like a river
Down in my soul

I got love like the ocean
Love, like the ocean
Love, like the ocean
Down in my soul

I got joy, like a fountain
Joy, like a fountain
Joy, like a fountain
Down in my soul

Peace. I am at peace and reconciled.

Peace, peace, peace. Like a river. Ever flowing. Intrinsic.

Happy Sunday.....Peace out my friends.

A girl's best friend

So I wake up at 2am.

Not so unusual. I do that alot.

What was different this time?

I had sleep walked into my closet.

No lie.

I have never sleep walked in my ENTIRE life.

And I have to say it scared the crap out of me.

And then I realized I had a headache.

A really badfreakinscarymakeyouwanttothrowup kind of headache.

The kind where you want to remove your head from the shoulders up and cast it into the fiery pits of hell because anything would be better than feeling the stabbing of thousands of needles in your eyes and your neck and your ears.

So I stumbled downstairs with Motrin and my lavendar rice pillow thingy in hand. Threw it in the microwave, swilled the Motrin, felt nauseous even BEFORE the pillow heated up and collapsed on the living room sofa in a fetal whimpering heap.

And then he appeared.

My big,furry savior

He sniffed my feet, my face and gave me a quick "kiss" of solace on my cheek and promptly plopped down by my head and didn't move the whole night, except to follow me to the kitchen (FIVE times) when I had to nuke my lavendar pillow to press on my eyelids and neck.

At daybreak, he heard something that he didn't like. And I saw him do something I had never seen him do before.

He launched himself up against the side windows of the front door and gave a very low guttural "gggggggggrrrrrrrrrrrrrr"

Paced...came back to me on the sofa. Turned and laid down by my head and gave one more snort at the door.

Have I mentioned lately that I love this dog?

The BEST DOG EVER.

Double Duty

Tonight I take the boys to football practice. Daddy is on the road to Raleigh. More on that later.

Words can not express how much I HATE hot weather. I hate heat. I hate to sweat. I hate those blood sucking freaks of nature that look like birds, but in fact are mosquitos. And to be forced to sit out in it for two hours. I need a book, a good book. And a big cold drink. And surface to air missles for the freaks of nature.

Crap

But at least I'm not driving 6 hours to Raleigh.

Which is the alternative to waiting in 6 hour lines at the airport.

Which is the REALLY serious alternative to getting your ass blown out of the sky by terrorists weilding saline solution and Ipods, leaving a stunned and devastated family behind.

Rock on Scotland Yard and I mean that in all heartfelt sincerity.

Perspective...it's a GOOD thing.

Post VayCay Blaaaaaaaaaaahhhhs

So I'm back from HHI.

The sun, the beach, the pool, the food..... OMG the FOOD, the cousin bonding time, the late evening bike rides, the evening gameboard marathons, the aborted schooner cruise (sad, so sad) the cocktails, the cocktails, the cocktails.

Yes, it has come and gone and I have photos. Two discs worth. My SIL burned all of our cards and now I am left with trying to pix the TOP 50 or so.

I went to put our suitcases away today.

There was still sand in every one of them.

Sometimes you don't need words or pictures to remember

Clean Sweep

So there we sat. Saturday morning. On the sofa. Together.

No agenda, no plans, no kids for the past or future week.

No kids? No Kids? What, in the what what is THAT???

Oh yeah. The kids?

They are whiling away their days at my folks in South Florida doing lovely things such as swimming in the pool off their bedroom and going to the water park and the museums and the library and baking cookies and riding bikes and playing with friends that they have made in all the years we have been traveling to that house and that neighborhood.

I get a daily report from General GiGi. They do, ever so earnestly, try to con their GiGi into not doing their hour of down time reading every day. Or eating their vegetables. Or brushing their teeth. Or...or...or.

But Gigi, being MY mother, is all too familiar with the tactics of the enlisted. Which is to say MY apples don't fall far from the mommy tree and she has comebacks in HER arsenal that I have not touched (or remembered) yet.

My kids? They are fine. We talk to them every day and they tell us they miss us and love us, but they are having a GRAND adventure. Thank you very much.

So back to the sofa.

He and me....we had a cup of coffee, and then another. And snuggled. Watched a movie. And after the excitement of THAT wore off (or the caffeine kicked in) I looked at him. He looked at me and we........

(OH you SO know where this is going? Read the title of the post. Right? Right.)

Said in unison...."Let's do it"

"IT" being cleaning out our room and the kids rooms and closets and drawers and under the bed (very, very scary) of all the accumulated crap that piles up when you aren't vigilant, despite your best efforts.

I think the dust bunnies had their very own chain of command. And I know for a fact the gum wrappers had organized their own union.

So after we got all hot and dirty and nasty and sweaty doing our cleaning thang, we took a shower, went out to eat, rented a movie (are you seeing a repeating theme here?) and snuggled on the sofa feeling all smug and self satisfied.

Was the day romantic? Hell yes. Why? Because I got to spend the entire day with my husband, side by side. We laughed, we bickered over what to keep and what to toss, we sorted through all of our and our kids accumulated "memories" (Crap or treasure...heads or tails....rock, paper, scissors, shoot. Yes it got that silly) and reminisced along the way.

That day and the past 10 days have reminded me why I married this man in the first place. Because no matter how hot and dirty and nasty and sweaty life gets, he still makes me feel funny and smart and beautiful and safe.

And he makes me laugh. Hard. And roll my eyes and laugh some more. And then snort and say "Are you kidding me? It's just a piece of construction paper with ten times the glue"

And he says, "Look closer" and I look and it says "you're the best mommy cause you snuggle me"

Yep, it's official. He's a keeper.

Happy Happy Friday

They are home safe! I just talked to the Dad. Connor's friend, her sister and mom got out of Lebanon and are back in the States!

I am so beyond happy and relieved!

Thanks to everyone for all their good thoughts and prayers.

It meant a lot to me and to the family.

Happy week-end, happy day!

Day One

10 years ago today, Atlanta hosted the Centennial Olympic Games. Big stuff for a little phoenix of a city that got burned to the ground 130 years earlier. Athens probably wanted to recreate that historic moment, if not for stealing the event out from under their favored noses, at least for the horror that was the mascot, IZZY. Izzy was scary, very scary. And BLUE, that would be the collective chokehold of a mortified city. And stars dancing around his head, again see collective choke hold. I'm not even going to touch the imagery of oversized feet.

I was hugely pregnant with BamBam and saw only one event, women's (and I use the term women loosely) gymnastic trials.

I rode the MARTA down to the venue and was 6 steps behind OJ Simpson going up the escalator to the venue. Creepy. (The same stop and escalator Co & Nancy took with me for CHA)

It was exciting and boring all at the same time.

DH worked security at the VIP section at the Aquatic venue every night and for his volunteer work amassed quite a collection of pins from the different reps of countries attending the events. Oh and he still has the uniform, which originally included long green polyester pants that met with a well organized revolt by all those working outside venues,resulting in the pants becoming shorts overnight. Can you say magic tape? I don't sew. Oh and the pith helmet. People would walk up to him everyday and offer him a couple hundred dollars for it. He never did cave and it sits on a shelf in his closet now.

If he wears it to the Atlanta History Museum, he gets in free to the new wing they've opened dedicated to the Olpympics. (woohoo....I knew there as a reason for holding on to that uniform) They wanted him to be a docent once every couple of months, but week-ends are the only option and those are a precious commodity in our house.

Still no word on my son's friend and her mom and little sister. Telephone numbers have been exchanged between the Congressman and the father.

If you're sending positive thoughts and prayers, I really appreciate it. Hopefully we'll hear some good news soon.

Cast your cares

All this past week, I have been on birthday party lock down compounded with two weeks of separation from kids looming over my head and under my radar is this uglier, scarier thing.

And I can only talk about it now because I have some news.

We have some friends, C's 'girlfriend" of 5 years from school and her parents. They are so cute, more like brother and sister. They are tight and close in the best innocent, unspoiled male/female friendship sort of way.

I just saw her and her mom two weeks ago at our last swim meet of the season. C and I got huge hugs and grins and promises of see you in August. Because she, her little sister and mom...they headed back, two weeks ago to visit family in Lebanon for 2 months.

I've left messages. Their cell phone mail boxes are full. They haven't called back. I've tried to reach them by email. No word.

Until today.

I got an email. The dad is in America. He was only there for a week. He's back in the States and is trying frantically to get his wife and two girls out. The wife is also Lebanese. The kids, being born in America, have dual citizenship. It's just surreal and it SUCKS.

One minute I'm hugging an enchanting, spunky, smart, beautiful little girl with crystalline blue eyes....one who has stolen my son's heart.

And the next, I'm wondering how the hell things go to a handbasket so quickly.

Birthday Redux

I came, I saw, I about passed out from the heat. Luckily I was wearing my hot pink tankini and jumped in the pool in between my "Julie, the Cruise Director" moments.

Here's the picture.... me with clipboard in hand greeting guests at the "lido" deck.

"Hi! I'm so glad you are here (insert child's name)! What would you like for lunch? Hamburger, Cheeseburger or Hot Dog? Great! The drop off table for presents is under the tent and you can put your pool bag on the benches"

Turning to parents (smiles/hugs/kisses as determinined by level of acquaintance, friendship and/or length of time seeing me be a complete goofball...kisses for the latter)

1) Can I have a number where you can be reached?

2) I've got your number on my cell, see you at 1PM and have fun!

3) You are staying??? Great! Adult beverages are in the blue cooler and what would you like for lunch? Hamburger, cheeseburger or hot dog? No.....there is no steak or grilled fish. Try Houlihan's.... funny...haha"

The party in short was fantastic. The kids had a blast and so did the adults, especially when Mr. Kyle did his amazing pyro act with the grill. It was freakin hot, but I stayed cool (see above).

I scored major mommy points for organization and execution of a party for 30 boys. And the treasure chest cake that I lifted from Family Fun...awesome!!! This is good, because first off no one wandered off or was hurt, therefore avoiding a call to search and rescue. And other than one child's cherry toe, that was easily mended by DH, we were accident free. But it also means I may need to go undercover next year at the PTA meetings. Oh hell, who am I kidding. I've been with these parents for 6 years now. They know my weaknesses.

This morning, I was up bright and early, getting bagels for the road prepared and we did the trade off with my parents at high noon at Cracker Barrel, halfway between points of destination.

Lots and lots of good quality conversation between me and DH on the way back. Funny, this is how it will be for two weeks, a return to the land before time, ie BK, before kids.

I'm going to make the most of this time, for me and my marriage. But I do confess, I miss the little stinkers already and so does Jake the wonder dog!

T Minus...........

20.5 hours and counting until (30) 7-8 year olds invade my neighborhood pool for a birthday party.

Pirate themed of course. "It's Captain. Captain Jack Sparrow" for a joint birthday party with my youngest son and his good friend.

Am I insane? Why yes!!! Thank you for asking...have a mint on your way out.

At this point I am in full party lock down mode. I have vague urges prompting me to crawl into some cool, dark place and rock myself to sleep. And I'm going to wrap myself in my nice cozy Excel Spreadsheet that has all the attendees names, cell phones and lunch orders.

I would zone out, but the treasure chest cake still needs to be iced.

Why? Why am I doing this???

Because last time this year, only 2 of my son's friends came and his co host buddy?? 15 of his friends showed up.

C was crushed. Not about the presents, but about the friends.
"Why didn't they come?"

And I explained the whole "It's summer and everyone is on vacation and you really do have LOTS of friends" (which he does....he has a more active social schedule in a month than I do in a year)

So I invited ALL his friends this year. Scouts, class, baseball, outside class friends.

Just EVER SO slightly more than last year and almost EVERYONE is coming.

This year, NO ONE is out of town.

NO ONE

help

I've already told him that he can't keep all those presents. It's just insane and not right. He suggested the community action center. Good boy, good choice.

And the morning after the party, I pack my two boys in Big Red, drive to a half way point in FL, give them to my rents for two weeks and drive back.

And?

WHAT?

You think I have a plan for what follows?

I have no plans other than return, collapse, wake up, go to work and for the first time in almost 10 years, NOT have a plan for the rest of the day.

I may sink, I may swim, my bets are on floundering, lots of floundering.

I'll report back sometime next week.

If you don't hear from me in a week...send out an advance party and bring a stretcher.

YoHoHo...where's the bottle of rum???

******************************************

Disclaimer, lest you all think I ENJOY inflicting pain on myself.

I ENJOY throwing a good party more. I love seeing folks of all ages smiling and hanging and laughing and getting outside themselves.

At the end of the day? I will be wiped, cause it is FREAKIN hot here in GA and the blanket is not a spreadsheet but humidity.

BUT, I will also have had a rockin good time with all the other adults at the party and my kids and their friends will have a memory of a time when life was good and simple and sweet.

Cause really in the end...it's just burgers and cake and friends swimming in the pool

And THAT is good stuff

Adventures in Dermatology

or why having to choose an HMO doctor sucks.

So I go to my little group insurance website to find a dermatologist because..................

Warning...if you are squeamish and don't have a sense of humor??? Stop reading now and go blog elsewhere.

A) I've got this itchy white rash on my neck, that rears it's ugly head every few years, having first blessed me with it's "presence' at the tender age of 12.

and

B) Acne. WTF?????? I'm freakin 45 years old. At some point between the grey hair and emerging wrinkles....acne should NOT be on the list of beauty maintenance concerns.

CRAP

So I go like a good little doobie to my HMO approved dermatologist,(who lives within walking proximity) and am told in the course of a 10 minute consult that

A) Adult onset acne is more common than puberty acne.

Oh realllllly??? Since when? Cause I'm looking at photos of my ancestors at my age and they didn't have acne and they didn't have makeup or photoshop, so WHAT gives???

and

B)That itcy white rash on my neck. Uhhmmm...yeah, there's no getting rid of it permanently. The stuff that causes it? Is everywhere. It just happens to like my skin. A lot. Oh great...THIS is what wins me a freakin popularity award???

oh and to cap it off

C) I have a flippin printout with (6), yes that is SIX prescriptions to cure my ails. Okay doing the math, 6 scrips times a $30 co-pay and the $25 office visit fee and I'm over $200 with no guarantee that any of this will work.

Can you say hosed?

Can you say homey don't play this game?

yeah...that's what I said.

Six scrips my a#$

Child of My Heart

She is coming.

This week-end.

There are two young ladies in my life who are like my own children.

Child(ren) of my heart, but not of my womb. Although I don't really think the womb makes that much difference. They are still mine. I will share. Read on.

The oldest, she is so much like her father, both in appearance and oh so under the radar snarky humor. She is quietly, charmingly witty And beautiful, classic, very old world beauty. She looks like a Dutch master painting. And when she feels comfortable with you, the full measure of her intelligence and her charm astound you.

The youngest, she is an artist. A dreamer. A writer. She is also a beauty.... like her mother. And if her beauty was only at the surface, it would merely stop you in your tracks. But it is what lies beneath that takes your breath away.

These two are going to make the world a better place. They are the daughters I did not have.

I always knew I wanted children. Even at the age of 12, I knew I wanted to be a mom. And I always, always wanted boys. And I got my heart's desire with BamBam and Thumper.

But before that, I was given what I needed.

Girls.

These girls? These children of my heart?

They were given to me by their mother, my dear friend of 20 years.

They arrived on the scene years before my raucous posse of boy-men invaded my realm.

I was there, waiting for them to come home, when they were born.

I held their tiny newborn heads in my hands and marvelled at the elegant length of their fingers and their rosy red lips and the sheer perfection of their newborn skin.

With the youngest, DH and other friends made a mad dash to finish up her nursery 24 hours before she was due home.

We called it "Operation Laying the Floors while They're at the Doors"

We've had a lot of fun with that one through the years. Especially since her daddy is a minister at a growing Presbyterian church and her mom is in her last year of seminary. These two, this couple, are and will always be a rockin team. Two for one never had so much meaning.

But I digress, back to "my" girls.

I held their fingers as they toddled. I swayed and rocked with them when they were fretful and their parents were tired. I played endless make believe games and cuddled with them in the pews of church while they drew me works of art that still hang in my office.

My long hair has been styled more ways than J-Lo's.

I have watched their fingers dance across a piano and their bodies skip across a stage.

I've listened to their voices soar in children's choir. And I still try to listen, really listen as they share with me, their fears and dreams.

It is such an awesome responsibility and privilege to share this journey with them. These children of my heart.

And now my "baby" girl is coming for the week-end, from a distance of only 1.5 hours away. Because she needs to be reminded that she is still special and unique and precious, despite being supplanted as the "baby", by a BOY, no less!!!!

So we shall go and get a pedicure, and have tea, window shop, make art and just be girls.

And we will also...............

talk about the day she came home from the hospital
and the day she first sang in the choir
and the art that still hangs in my office
and the place she has in my life.

And I'm sure someone's hair is not going to look like it did on Friday!

And she will always, and forever be....a child of my heart.

Who needs lead time

for a birthday party when your mom can create invites like this?



(Maybe I SHOULD make a layout of all their summer birthday invites. If I could just find them!)

and the layout? It's already done (in my head at least). Invite on the right, photo on left, very CZ.

I bow to the wonderfulness that is my graphic designer friend!

The "Bug"

I've got it. I don't know quite what to do with it. But I tell you it has hit me hard and fast.

That would be THE decorating bug, or redecorating bug.

No piece of furniture or blank wall is safe in this house.

And my kids are willing enablers.

"Mommy? Can I paint my room next week-end?"

"Mom, I want to move my furniture. Look, I drew it all out. Will it fit?"

Next week-end....Benjamin Moore's Soft Pumpkin is slated to hit mine and DH's bedroom walls. We are going for a simple Zen like Asian feel.

The boy's bathroom is going to get a coat of Marine Blue.

God only knows what will hit the walls the week-end after that.

Change....color....it is a GOOD thing!

Father's Day Recap

(as told by the wife)

Sleep in.

Sleep in some more.

Sniff, sniff. UUUUHHHMMMM, that's DW makes cinnamon chocolate chip waffles. Yawn, stretch, stumble downstairs. First bite....sigh....yummy.

Drink coffee. Uhhhmmmm, sigh. Blink, blink. ( Jake did what??? He ate your Tevas???? Sigh)

Open gifts. Get teary over handmade accordion fold card made by DW and sons.

Go to TarJay with family. Buy new vacuum. WEEHOO, DW loves new vacuum (and secretly so do I. It does everything except balance the check book. And with a couple of modifications could probably do basic algorithms)

Go grocery shopping with family. Steak, potatoes, corn, asparagus all to be roasted to nutty perfection by DW.

Come home. Assemble and help DW test drive new vacuum through out house. (I'm the heavy lifter, ie mover of furniture)

DUHHHHHAYYYYYYM, there's enough dog hair in that dump filter to knit a sweater.

Rearrange furniture in master bedroom at behest of DW. Why? You have to ask why???? Oh hey, sweeeeeeeeeet, bonus!! Can get into bed without banging shin on bureau.

But wait! It's change and change is not good, unless DW tells you it is good. Then you pretend it is good, until you forget that it wasn't always good. And then...wait...what was the question anyway???

Watch US Open while snuggling on sofa with sons. Tiger didn't make the cut, first Father's Day without his dad. Too much pressure this year. He'll come back. He's a dad now too.

Eat roasted to perfection dinner in front of TV, watching US Open and snuggling sons on sofa. SWWWWEEEEEETTT!

Go see my Dad with gifts and really cool handmade card made by DW. Does your DW make handmade Father's Day cards for you to give to your Dad? Bonus points for me!

And the night is still young.

It's good to be a dad.

(or at least that's MY interpretation of his day)

True Blue

True blue

What does that mean to you?

from dictionary.com it means

Loyal, faithful, as in You can count on her support; she's true blue. This expression alludes to the idea of blue being the color of constancy, but the exact allusion is disputed. One theory holds it alludes to the unchanging blue sky, another to the fastness of a blue dye that will not run. Blue has been the identifying color of various factions in history. In the mid-1600s the Scottish Covenanters, who pledged to uphold Presbyterianism, were called true blue (as opposed to red, the color of the royalists). In the 1800s the same term came to mean "staunchly Tory," and in America, "politically sound."

I'm a word geek. I love words. I love the nuances. I love how, with just the right word, you can say so much, with so little.

Which brings me to the word or should I say phrase of the day.

True Blue.

First of all I LOVE the Scottish connection. WOOT...shoutout to my daddy's side of the family.

So why this phrase?

Because my boys brought home the hardware or software in the form of ribbons, from last night's swim meet. My boys? They placed first in every single event in which they were entered. 4 blue ribbons each.

And because my boys showed me once again how much heart, how true blue, they are at their core.

I can't take too much credit here, or can I?

I really think most of what they are...it is innate and I should be used to this by now. Yes Lisa, you have fish for children. They come by it honestly. Yes Lisa, your boys seem to have some internal moral compass that you support.

Okay so that's the nature.

And then there's the nurture, which I and their daddy and extended family and caregivers and so on and so forth can totally take credit for collectively as a whole.

Nature vs Nurture. Why is this an either or? It's not. It's a delicate dance between the two.

A delicate dance that takes my breath away.

Swim team. It's just summer league folks, I know that. But there are some seriously powerful life lessons bubbling to the surface, along the rough and wet decks of any neighborhood pool, on any given evening on swim meet nights.

Watching my boys? It's how I think I would feel if I could swim with dolphins. (strangely enough that's our team mascot)

They are so sure of their strength and their ability, my boys.

The leap off the block, the arch as they parallel the surface, the slice through the water, the smooth, powerful stroke of their little boys arms. It is pure bliss to behold.

Bliss I tell you. Bliss and awe. THAT was formed in my womb? THAT carries my DNA? THAT is it's OWN complete and totally unique being? ROCK ON!

Mommy induced hormone seque over, we return to present day.

It is what happens after the race that inspires this blogging moment(s)

When my little boys drape their arms around their team mates who didn't win and say "You ALMOST beat me and I bet you might beat me next time."

When one of my boys hears another team mate start a little "trash" talkin about the other team (we're undefeated)and steps in and says,"It's not nice to say mean things. I have friends on that team"

Followed by, just so you know my kids, like their momma are NOT perfect "Did I say you could play with my Gameboy? NO! GIVE it to me MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!"

When through sheer will, your boys swim up an age level in a relay, and win some critical points for the team. "Sure Coach Celeste. I'll swim. What stroke am I doing? Am I only going 25 yards? Okay cool. Can I throw you in the pool if we win??"

That's heart.

That's strength.

THAT'S true blue.

Evite

Evite.com......what in the world did I do before you came into my life??!!

I LOVE evite!!

You would think for a girl that loves all things paper that an electronic email invitation would be the last thing that would tickle my fancy.

But tickle it does! Honestly, when you are inviting LARGE numbers of people to parties and you have LOTS of parties, the amount you save in postage and cards alone is enough to buy a keg of beer or case of wine for every party or mucho primo cheese!

And then there's the whole instant gratification thing of knowing when people have VIEWED your invite and then all the glorious email responses!!

Oh....and no more, lost in the mail, hurt feelings, etc.

If I see someone hasn't viewed it within a week of it going out, I call them and say "Hey, girlfriend, check your dang email every once in awhile" HEH

Right now in my rotation, I have Connor's "Pieces O' Eight" Pirate Birthday party, a Wednesday night cook-out and a Meet & Greet at the pool for our House of Representatives rep.

Full email inbox....makes me happy!

Football?

So here in this region known as the Deep South of the good ole U S of A, we have this thang called Football.

Which involves lots of big boys/men smashing into each other, whilst legions of hardcore fans engage in professional drinking contests, high priced haggling over tickets and debates over who has the most kick ass tailgate spread.

Then we have the rest of the world.

As in World Cup....soccer as we like to call it across the pond.

And lest you think that we, in the land of Dixie, are completely ignorant bafoons, "football" south of the Mason Dixon line is hotter than a wool coat on a July day.

Case in point.

Hubby goes to play church league softball today at a big sports complex that is usually also teeming with similarily age specific soccer players.

Today? Nadda. They are all at home, coozie in hand (one would presume) watching the World Cup.

At least according to the folks who run said primo sports facility.

HEH

Today.... US of A vs the Czech Republic 12PM EST ABC

Play on!

Ticket to Ride

So I'm sitting here rifling through this PILE of invites my kiddos have received for summer birthday parties, class get togethers, scouting soirees and I start thinking to myself (which is kind of a dangerous thing)

Self? When did your offspring start having a more active social life than you have?

And then I remembered, it all started with "play dates" And that was SEVEN years ago for my oldest son.

Which started me on two random yet completely related stream of consciousness meanderings.

Play dates. Can I tell you how ridiculous that whole phrase sounds?

Play dates??? When I was gowing up, we didn't have play dates. We met in the cul de sac every morning in the summer or during the school year after 3pm and planned our own "play dates".

Reality check. I know that it's a scary world. Always has been. And I know things have changed, but not as much as lots of folks seem to think. Long conversations with my parents and inlaws have given me insight on that one.

So I made a decision this summer....to let go.

And what does that mean?

It means my kids can walk down the street to the cul de sac (after telling me where they are going) and play, coming back when they are ready.

It means they can ride their bikes on our street without me sitting at the top of the driveway watching.

It means they can head off to the pool on foot, scooter or bike (with me 5 minutes behind)

I'm letting go, which means............

Change

My oldest will be 10 in a few short months.

How did that happen?

Of course I KNOW how it happened. I just can't seem to remember when. All I have are the lyrics from Aerosmith's "Don't want to miss a thing" playing on some kind of cosmic mommy loop in my head.

What I do know for sure... from this point on, the ride is accelerating into a fast and furious looping spiral and if I blink my eyes, I will miss it.

And I don't want to miss it.

I want to soak up every scary, hairy, wonderful, sublime, wacky, wild, challenging, tender, lovely moment of it.

Ten years from now, they will be gone. Flown the coop. And I will have (statistically speaking) another 40 years to be me. (Another scary thought. I really must stop spending so much time online)

In the meantime, they are in MY park and I have a ticket to ride. And I am going to let go, with my eyes wide open, hands in the air and screaming with equal parts fear and delight.

Because at the end of my life, I want to know and I want my boys to know that I lived my life facing my fears and also without fears.

Let it ride