Archives for March 2007

The following is a condensed version of a conversation I had with D.’s brother at my parents’ house yesterday, where we were celebrating Alex’s birthday for the second time in four days.

Scott: What are y’all planning to do this week?

Me: Nothing, really – believe it or not.

Scott: You know, our condo at the beach is empty until Saturday if y’all…

Me (interrupting): OKAY!

So D. and I started talking and planning because he has to be out of town on business today, but then we realized wait, whaddya know, it’s actually a pretty easy trip from that business-y place to the beach, and he could meet Alex and me down there tomorrow.

And then I started thinking about the computer, would I be able to use the computer, because I had actually designated this next week as a time to check some items off of my writing to-do list. I really need internet access so that I can email the writing stuff to a few people, and just in case you’re puzzled by my somewhat vague information, then maybe I can offer some clarity by adding that I will be writing about some topics that are related to some things.

I do hope those details were helpful.

Anyway, I asked Scott’s wife Rose if the condo has Wifi, and I really should have known better because of, well, this, and so for about ten seconds after my question she looked at me with a blank stare before she finally replied, “Ummm. Hmmmm. Ummm. What’s that?”

Later on D. remarked that when I asked Rose about Wifi, she looked like I had asked her about some strange, foreign brand of aspirin.

But guess what? D/ called the condo and they have Wifi and praise the Lord for He is good and His mercies endureth forever.

So the next time you hear from me, internets, I’ll be slathering my pasty white legs with SPF 95, donning a wide-brimmed hat, and shielding my eyes from the mirror because OH, THE SWIMSUIT SEASON, IT IS SO HATEFUL.

But I can’t wait to relax and recharge and regroup. And, I don’t know, repent. Or reboot. Or something. It just feels like I need another “re-” word in that series, don’t you think?

I’ll check in when I can, and yes, I will be taunting you with pictures of the beautiful Gulf of Mexico.

However, I can promise you that there will be absolutely no pictures of me in a swimsuit BECAUSE I CARE ABOUT YOU.

I would just like to report that the Wii-tacular is completely out of control at our house.

We haven’t watched television in four nights because D. is trying to set homerun records, I am trying to become a champion target shooter, and Alex is working on being able to pick a set of identical twins out of a moving crowd in less than 30 seconds.

Also: I smoked D. at bowling this afternoon, and even though I didn’t, like, write it down or anything, I believe the score was 265 to 190 and I may or may not have hit six strikes in a row at the end of the game.

I’m just sayin’.

I have to put this type of information in the blog for posterity, you see, because it’s the first time in almost ten years of marriage that I’ve ever beaten D. at, well, anything. It felt good to bring my Streak-O-Defeat to an end.

Even better, Alex has learned this valuable bit of information: three bowling strikes in a row is called a “turkey.” I don’t know about you, but I had no idea, so in addition to being loads of fun, the Wii is totally educational.

To wit: Alex also learned that knocking the cue ball in the pocket during pool is called a scratch, and really I can’t think of a better use of our recreational family time than to teach him sports terminology that he can use for the rest of his life.

Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s time for a bowling match with my boy and my man. And Mama here has to represent for the ladies, you know. I’ll try to make y’all proud.

Edited to add: Alex is feeling so much better. He told us earlier today that his doctor “fixed” his ears. And yes, I thought that was the cutest thing I’d ever heard.

Last night Alex woke up crying around 11:30, and since I am such an unselfish soul I immediately asked my husband to please just go fetch the child and put him in the bed with us because Mama needs her sleep, okay?

But as it turned out the little man was actually a pretty sick little fella, and around 1 AM when he looked at me and said, “I feel so bad, Mama” with nary a hint of a capital letter or exclamation point, I knew that we were in for a mighty long night indeed, bless his sweet little heart.

So instead of heading to Mother’s Day Out today, the little man had to go to the doctor (not by himself or anything – granted, he is a big boy what with recently turning four and all, but D. and I have discussed it and we feel it’s probably wise to wait until he’s at least six before we hand him the keys to the car). He has a red-hot infection in his left year and a smaller one in his right, and so, for only the fourth time in his little life, he has to take antibiotics so he can get all better soon.

And yes, I absolutely paid that extra $2.99 at the pharmacy for them to add the bubble gum flavoring to his amoxicillin, because if you’ve ever tried to give a young’un the straight chalky white stuff, you know what deep and abiding peace it brings into your life, the kind of peace that makes you want to ram a moving vehicle straight into a brick wall.

So as a result of Alex being unexpectedly under-the-weather, we’re going to have a laid-back last night-o-fun with my sister-in-law and nephews. Alex is (finally) resting pretty comfortably, so Janie and I are about to head down the street and pick up some delicious sushi, maybe swing by Target and check out the adorable wedges that my good friend Big Mama spotlighted on her blog today (and while you’re there, please feel free to read the whole post and laugh your head off).

Now that I think about it, though, we should probably check out the shoes before we pick up the sushi since nothing really says “we’re so glad you came for a visit” like feeding your extended family members raw fish after it’s been sitting in a warm car in the Target parking lot. Though it would definitely be a gift-o-hospitality that keeps on giving.

Once we collect our sushi and sandals and come back here, I imagine we’ll have night number three of what has turned into a regular Wii-tacular. GOOD GRIEF the Wii is a fun product, and if not for the Wii we’d have never realized that Janie has a talent for bowling that has heretofore been undiscovered. In fact, D. and I have determined that given the manner with which Janie decimated her bowling opponents last night (specifically: her children), we will be purchasing her a satin jacket, a bowling bag, and sending her out to tour with the Ladies’ Professional Bowling League. Which I assume exisits.

And if not, it totally should.

Dear Alex,

Today is your fourth birthday, although in keeping with how you express yourself these days, I should probably say that TODAY! IS! YOUR! FOURTH! BIRTHDAY! – because there’s not a doubt in my mind that today is going to be a day filled with CAPITAL LETTERS and EXCLAMATION POINTS!!!, and your daddy and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

    
This last year has been my absolute favorite with you so far, mainly because you are such great company. There’s absolutely no place that I could go that wouldn’t be made more fun by having you along for the ride, unless of course that place is the library, in which case I would cry “UNCLE” before we ever stepped in the front doors. You’re not so strong with the quiet at this point in your life, but that’s okay because Mama understands that it’s extraordinarily difficult to convey your near-constant capital-letter excitement for OH LOOK, MAMA! SHELVES! when you’re limited to mere whispers.  

Besides, it’s not like the library is going anywhere, so we’ll head back when you’re about seven and see if we can make it more than fifteen minutes in the Young Readers section without disturbing a majority of the reading patrons. Let’s make it a date, ‘kay?

 

    
Your wide open enthusiasm and love for people is a constant source of wonder for your daddy and me, and sometimes when you’re introducing yourself to the check-out girl at Walmart or the bag boy at Publix or the person who changes our oil at the ExpressLube, your daddy and I will look at each other, grin, and delight in the realization that your extroversion is so innate that there’s no way we could’ve taught it to you. It’s who you are through and through, and even though I’ve winced a time or nine when you’ve said, “Hi, I’m Alex. I’m three. This is my friend Mama” and then ANNOUNCED MY AGE TO A LARGE LINE OF GROCERY SHOPPERS, I wouldn’t dream of correcting you, mainly because I have big plans to teach you that my actual age is twenty six and then let you proclaim it to the masses.  

 

    
Lately at bedtime you’ve decided that you like for your daddy to tuck you in and say prayers with you, and after he leaves your room you call for me to come snuggle with you. You will not go to sleep until you have had “snuggle time” with both of us, and I treasure it like crazy because I know that one day you will be thirteen and prefer that we respect your six-foot radius of Personal Space while you’re busy trying to pretend that we don’t exist.  

(Also: when you are thirteen you will read this post and roll your eyes. And then I will chase you and catch you and give you one hundred kisses. You might as well make your peace with that now.)

 

    
You like to talk when we have our snuggle time, and you often announce, as you smush up next to me and put your head on my shoulder, that it’s time for some questions. For five or ten minutes you’ll ask me about what our plans are for the next day or how far away heaven is or whether or not God made pajamas. Inevitably in those moments I’ll be overcome with emotion, and I’ll look you straight in the eyes and tell you how much I love you, how blessed I am to be your mama. Then, in the quiet of darkness, you’ll look right back at me and say, “AWWWW, SHUCKS, MAMA! I LOVE YOU, TOO!” 

And somehow, it’s just as it should be that your words shock the quiet of our time together every night, because that’s exactly what your arrival four years ago did for your daddy and me. You have caused us to sit up and open our eyes and take in the world from a completely different perspective, one that is infinitely richer and deeper and better simply because you’re here to share life with us.

I will never get over that as long as I live.

I love you so much,
Mama