Overgrown

September 6, 2008

I got a D+ in BYU’s Physical Science the first time I took it and flunked it the second time. I learned two things from this experience: First, all right-brained students at BYU should pay the gas money and take their science classes at the Salt Lake Extension Center. There is nothing like getting credit from a class like “Appreciation of Nature”. Our assignments revolved around spending one half hour out in nature each week, where we were then invited to record and share our thoughts. My kind of class.

The second thing I learned from Physical Science is some law about all things being in a state of decomposition. When we got home from our six week vacation, I remembered this stupid law.

My yard plan for the summer revolved around leaving my house and pretending the weeds wouldn’t take over in my absence. Upon our return home I’ve realized that we have become “those” neighbors. You know the ones. Brown lawn, thistle growing along the path to the front door, dandelions the flower of choice. We’ve been spreading the love this summer by reseeding the neighborhood with the fluffy white down from our yard.

The worst part about it is our brown grass. Apparently, despite forking a nice sum over to a lawn fertilizer company and having sprinklers that work, our grass is the only brown grass on the entire street. Our lawn company is trying to tell us that our lawn is in “shock”. That’s funny. We seem to have the only surprised lawn in town. Perhaps the company’s name should be something more along the lines of, Beautiful Green Lawns But Sometimes Brown If We Burn Them.

And so on Monday I went out and tackled the foliage. I didn’t plan to weed. In my attempt to be occupied that morning I had baked and delivered bread to our neighbors who took care of the house for us (it is necessary when baking bread to immediately confiscate it so I am not tempted to deter from my salami safe-haven).

After three or four passes in front of my house with said goods, I couldn’t resist reaching down and tugging out a weed on my way inside. One weed led to another, and before I knew it, I’d been out there an hour and had done a thorough weeding of the entire front area, despite the many critter holes which FREAK ME OUT. I kept sending telepathic messages to the snakes/rodents who live in them to just stay put.

And I gotta admit, it felt good. Kind of like repentance. It’s so much better to dig in and confront those sins. Passing in front of them every day only brings anxiety. Clean feels so good.

Filed Under: Uncategorized

The Animal Fair

September 5, 2008

Thursday. Three days on my own with the kids and I’m nearly finished with my list of projects designed to keep me occupied until December. In light of my current Too Much Time To Fill state, I developed a plan B: field trips.

Tonight I decided to take the kids to a local farmer’s market. How hard could it be? Three kids, one stroller, a few tents. Cake.

More like Cake Fight, actually.

We parked alongside the road and unloaded the burdens into the stroller. Have you ever tried to push a stroller through sage brush? A double wide stroller? Yeah. Not made for sage brush. We nearly lost Harrison a.k.a. Indiana Jones on the way to the gravel road where the tents were set up (he was hiding from the bad guys). Did you catch the gravel part? Ever tried to push a double stroller through gravel?

Aside from the 60 pounds of childhood flesh and the gravel, it was a nice night. Saw a few cute booths, sampled some great tomatoes, all in all that first four minutes went really well. Then Rex wanted out of the stroller. Why not? He’s being so good. Lies, all lies. Oh how quickly the storm clouds billowed in.

I decided to be the nice fun mom my own mother and Jason would never approve of and get the kids each a little souvenir. Junie got a new bracelet because at nine months (today) she just loves jewelry, and Rex picked out a hideous stuffed dragon at some cheap-o stand. Harry? He wanted his face painted. Sure!

As soon as Harrison sat down Rex started messing with the paints. As soon as I told him no he started to melt down. Picture a banana popsicle in the middle of the asphalt on a hot August day. That’s about how fast Rexy unraveled. As soon as Harrison was finished (Tiger Harrison, he informed me) Rex wanted to be a mouse. A yellow mouse. Since Rex and his loud little voice (yes, it carries just like mine) were about ten notches above adamant, I decided to practice survival parenting and gave in.

She only managed a pink nose and whiskers before he really lost it. “I want to be a frog!” Weeping, wailing, throwing the dragon. We were like a tiger/mouse/dragon circus with a miniature fat lady perched in the stroller chewing on her bracelet.

Somehow we made it through the sagebrush wilderness and back to the car, despite our mouse’s smudged whiskers and the tiger that stalked us through the bush. The June Bug? Perfect. Never made a single peep. Hey, we put on a good show, who wouldn’t be entertained?

I think our next outing will be a little closer to home. Like the backyard. I think we could handle that.

Filed Under: Harrison, June, parenting, Rex, stroller

Annie for Sarah!

September 4, 2008

All right, let’s face it. I HATE politics.

Anyone who’s been on the inside track in journalism knows that everything we read and hear is nothing but Jo Blow’s big fat opinion. Heck, all you have to do is read/listen to the evening news to key in on that piece of soft evidence. Spun, twisted, tweaked, you name it. I never watch the news and I find myself so instantly hot about politics when they do come up, I can’t even stand to think about them. I listen to Rush. I never speak of it.

But tonight, TONIGHT! Glorious day, glorious hour. After listening to Sarah Palin speak to America, I have no doubt that every single man who’s ever made a run for the white house is wishing he would have been smart enough to snag a PTA mom as his running mate. To heck with McCain, who’s he? I’m voting for Sarah Palin.

When you think about it, it’s like a good marriage. In My Big Fat Greek Wedding the mother tells her daughter something important: The man is the head, but the woman is the neck. I have the feeling Old Johnny Boy didn’t realize what happens when you sign on with Hockey/Soccer/Bossy Boss Boss mom. There’s nothing like a fresh, blunt, feminine approach in the long fight of fixing this country. She is very possibly the best thing that’s happened to politics since Lincoln.

I’ll tell you what else. Her life is so not perfect. Daughter knocked up, late pregnancy and a lifetime of challenges for her family, and guess what? She’s still going strong. She is proof that good people can come through hard times and still be good people. She is proof that average women who run households and “organizations” like scouting, car pools, Halloween parties and food drives, can, do and will make a difference.

The best part? She’s actually got me thinking of branching out of my own little fog and dabbling in something more than my blog. In fact, I am pleased to announce that this year in Harrison’s kindergarten class, I am the Room Mother. That’s right, I’ve stepped into a serious leadership role. Who knows? In four years when she runs for president, I could be her VP!

I think I found my new best friend. Too bad she doesn’t blog.

Filed Under: politics, Sarah Palin

His First Day

September 2, 2008

Today was Harrison’s first day of school.

I remember the first day of kindergarten. I sat by Teresa Greene and thought she was the coolest girl ever. She had hair that went almost to her behind, it was so long. I was heavily impressed. We stayed friends for the next 13 years and sat together at graduation. Sometimes we underestimate the importance of “first days”. She and I still keep in touch and get together with our children.

I remember a lot of things from Kindergarten. Carleen Stewart throwing up in her pink dress, Sheri Ulgray wetting her pants periodically throughout the year. The smell of the Hot Lunch cart, Mr. M and his Munchy Mouth. I remember being worried about my broken arm and sad that I couldn’t wear all my new school clothes. I remember my blue button up blouse with the red bow tie.

My teacher died half-way through the school year. She got sick and passed away at 44. I remember my mom getting the phone call. She was standing in the kitchen by the Boot Room and I knew what was happening. But when you’re five, death is not a big deal, at least it wasn’t to me. I could see my mother was emotional and so I decided I had better be emotional too. So I cried. It was fake, but I remember thinking about people in the movies and trying to be like them.

Our substitute was Mr. Schneider. He’s still there, in that same classroom. Back in Elma I bump into him on occasion. Later in the year a little boy in my class was killed in a car accident. Mr Schneider always talks to me about it. He says that I was adamant that they were both up in Heaven together and that we didn’t need to be sad because they were with Jesus.

And so, as I send my son off today, part of me knows that he’s beginning the rest of his life. Part of me understands that new people and places are going to impact him, and his memories and influences are now out of my control.

When I took him to the bus stop with all those big kids, he hugged me and let me kiss him, then quickly wiped his cheek off in embarrassment. I had to smile, he’s so old and so cool. I didn’t hover, I turned around and walked away, leaving my son at the hands of the world. Will he remember Jesus today? Will he be kind to kids who have no friends? Will he be honest and happy and safe? Have I done enough? I wonder. I will always wonder.

Let me say, it was a long and lonely walk up that hill without him.

Filed Under: Harrison, kindergarten

Rainy Days and Mondays

September 1, 2008

He’s gone and guess what? I’m not down. In fact, I’m way way up. Sure, my husband just deserted I mean left us for another stint at Spy Camp, sure my baby starts kindergarten tomorrow and is leaving me and my impressive influence forever. And if I am not mistaken, I should be throwing myself a major pity party today, or at least having a good cry.

I’m not. I’m fine. In fact, I am GREAT.

So here is my top ten reasons why I’m glad Jason is gone.

1. Kitchen closed. If it doesn’t come frozen, we don’t eat it.
2. Make-up and hair are optional (actually, that one hasn’t changed).
3. No more Cafe Rio guilt. I can eat an entire burrito in one sitting without any raised eyebrows.
4. Let the toys be heard. Why pick them up? He’s not coming home to trip over them.
5. I don’t have to worry about getting/not getting pregnant. I think.
6. I don’t have to confiscate the McDonalds/Wendy’s/Burger King/Taco Bell wrappers before he gets in the car in order to keep our fast food addiction under wraps.
7. BYU football? WHO CARES.
8. Making the bed? WHO CARES.
9. Going to sleep before 3 am? Not necessary.
10. And I no longer have to smuggle clothes/housewares/non-essential items into the house where I quickly confiscate all tags and receipts before he gets home and asks why my grocery budget is already gone.

In short, I can do whatever I want. Okay, I’ve always done whatever I wanted, but now I don’t have to worry that someone is sighing and rolling his eyes because I am doing whatever I want.

And so my friends, I declare tonight official pizza night. If you don’t have plans, don’t worry. Little Caesar’s is a good friend of mine. They’ll hook you up.

Filed Under: Jason gone
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