Thursday, June 26, 2014

We ARE the have's...

My daughter just ran down the sidewalk to find apartment #106 to have a friend over for a playdate.  She did the same thing yesterday and had a great time... playing sidewalk chalk on the 3 foot by 3 foot walkway in front of our new digs.  The girls ran around our mess of an apartment, played with American girl dolls that are sandwiched into a corner in the loft that she shares with her brother for her makeshift bedroom that still has an unpacked box of Mommy's clothes in the middle because there is simply no room for it to go.  We walked to the park, and Addie knew no different than her life in a 5,000 square foot house in the burbs.  And that makes me smile.

This morning she asked if she could have her friend over again and I suggested that they could play play-doh while Mommy got a shower...  Ya know- the same play-doh that God forbid she played with and messed up my granite counters in my old house.  Addie then looked at me and sweet as can be said, "Or we could play in the basement."  Ha- I asked back, "Ummm, where is our basement?(since we are clearly in a two level townhome apartment)", and she said right here, it's the bottom level.  She knows no difference.  And that makes me smile.

Chris was dropped off from baseball camp and proudly invited his friends in "to see his new room."  He doesn't care that it's not painted, doesn't have a comforter and he's sleeping with his Virginia Tech fleece blanket in the summer with navy blue sheets and that his sister's Dora blanket hung down from the top bunk.  In our old house, Mommy didn't allow anything with "characters" except on your jammies and underpanties....  and yet Chris couldn't have been happier to show off his pad... And that makes me smile,.

Ya see, I live in the land of Nova.  The land of the have's and the have not's and eventhough we are blessed and have more than we'll ever need, we feel like we're somewhere in between.  I have conversations with my girlfriends where we talk about a neighbor that got new furniture and instead of being happy for her, we wonder what the hell we are doing wrong or sometimes just make up a story in our head that's make believe... like "they must have family money" to make ourselves feel better. We live in the land of Nova where you feel like your kid isn't going to go to the World Series if they miss out on a private lesson or might miss out if they don't have a phone by the fifth grade to text with their friends (not my kid... but then again, I've learned you NEVER say never... I can see it coming).  I  live in the land of Nova where Bunco games are catered and I freak out on my hubby if the faucet is out of line when I'm about to host a party.  I live in the land of Nova where I know that we want to get away from it all, but yet we love it at the same time.  It's the land of Nova.

You spend all of your hours trying to raise a caring, loving child.  You want them to care more.  Care more about the little things... You bicker with them to untie their shoes before they put them on, hang up their swimsuits when they get home from practice, to love thy neighbor- to simply care.

But this summer is teaching me something so much more.  People love you for who you are- not for what you have- and that's how it should be.  What matters is the love between your four walls, not how they are decorated.  What matters is that I'm getting to spend my days learning from the very own creatures I care so much about- and they are teaching me that's okay to care a little less. 

Care a little less, and love a little more.  That makes me smile.

Thursday, June 12, 2014


This Saturday night, the hubz and I had a hot date planned to the Tim McGraw concert with our besties.  I had even bought a cute new countrified outfit and was fit to tailgate.  Tuesday morning, we got emails about game schedules this weekend and don't ya know our little softball player has a game at 4:30 and our baseballer has one at 4.  So instead of rockin' the night away thinking I'm an Indian Outlaw, I'll be drinking a little lemonade and not as many beers, raising my little family, and heading to bed wiped out after a day at the ballfields with my hubz because

Love changes.

Back in the day, love was holding my husband's hand so tight and getting  jealous if another girl talked to him.  Now, it's smiling when in the chaos of our life his hand grazes mine or holds it for a hot second before we let go to chase after our one year old.  And when I see another woman talking to him, I laugh, give him a hard time, and tell him not to leave me because I'm damaged goods because

Love changes.

Life is so different from what I pictured.  I'm a reality junkie, and a Bachelor fan, and I now look at the show so different.  Yes, it's amazing to see a date flying over the coast of Bora Bora, wining and dining in a hot tub, and being dressed to the nine's in fancy schmancy dresses, but I'm realizing it's also amazing to have a hubz listen to your dreams while pining over the Costco Bora Bora brochure knowing it's not gonna happen anytime soon, hanging out at the pool and greasing up three miracles (remind me I said this this summer when I complain about it), and chilling in your hubby's old baseball t-shirts because sadly they fit you like a glove- and he even finds it a little sexy...  Bless his heart... because

Love changes.

In the beginning, love is a high, you feel giddy with excitement, and butterflies are like endorphins that take over your body... but there comes a time when there will be lows and flatlines, and you might feel bipolar because one minute you want to kill your hubby and the next you want to jump his bones because he decides to tackle homework with your children so you can wash the dinner dishes and not be on double duty because

Love changes.

There will come a time when love doesn't revolve around getting lucky.  That's not to say it doesn't happen a fair bit... But your hubby might learn that when you say you have a headache that is your code for "don't cop a feel under the sheets because I'm not doing it tonight,"...  and before you turn into a freak in the bed instead of fumbling for protection, you might stop your antics, bicker about who is going to make sure the door is locked so a kid doesn't wander in to see a full moon... and afterwards in your state of bliss, you may look at each other and say, "Damn, that was good- we should do this more often,"  because

Love changes.

There will come a day when you will find love through being proud of your accomplishments, your family, and the road you have travelled... and you'll miss out on a night out totally by choice... and your friends will totally understand that kids come first because

Love changes.

Can't wait to see what happens in our next thirty years... because I like it, I love it, I want some more of it. <3

Tuesday, June 10, 2014

Poor Me

We've all seen it happen. That kid that fouls a little too much on the basketball court, that kid that gets up to bat and the bat is bigger than he is, that little girl that gets up for her piano recital and the performance sounds like a screeching cat.  It happens- and looking back, I'm not sure that my reaction was always right.  I might have giggled to my husband, let out an awwww, or made a comment- but never, did I ever,  mean to be hurtful. But the thing is, we all must remember that we all have eyes and ears... and feelings and hearts.

Monday nights have been my girl's night out for some time now.  I play in a women's soccer league and have a Blast... Literally- we're the Vintage Blast.  We started indoor for the very first time last fall and never won a game our first season.  Fast forward to last night, and we showed up to play for the championship.  Okay, let me be real- to play in the championship for the "West" division- because after a few sessions of getting our asses kicked we begged the front desk guy to separate the women's league into two divisions- The great teams making up the East, and the not so great teams making up the West... and we've enjoyed playing so much more ever since.  We've gotten a lot better too- and I'd like to think it's not JUST because of the early twenty-something au-pairs that just happened to join our team (although I'm pretty sure it is).:)

I'm a rough player.  Always have been, always will be.  I grab, elbow, pull, yank, kick...  that's just what I do.  I like to call it aggressive, some others might call it mean.  After three kids and with the addition of fifty pounds to my high school frame, my "roughness" might be kicked up a notch to a whole different level.  I struggle, and I really mean struggle with my weight issue to the point that I could blog forever about it- oh wait, I used to do that...  It's something I battle but I'm not gonna boo-hoo over that right now- This is my summer, and I do plan on starting to bring sexy back- just y'all wait.:) But my point is, I'm never trying to be a dirty, unsportsmanlike player- It's just that I'm an out of shape Mama that can't move like she used to, so sometimes I resort to fouling.  I'm human.  It happens.

What also happened last night is the fans of our opposing team started off as "cheering"... and ended up crushing me.  I heard the opposite team's player back off from the ball and yell up to the fans in the stands, "I'm not going after it, I'm scared of her."  I heard the women from the stands yell back, "She's so big she needs to play football or rugby, she's way too rough to be out there."  "Get her!"  "Look at her, she's huge." And that was just what I remember before I tried my best to block them out and hold back tears.  These were grown women- I believe even some mom's of the younger players on the field.

I was humiliated and hurt.  And it made me really think about what my actions will be in the future and about how we should all behave.  Because last night, when I finally got home, called my mom, and cried, I realized... It happens.  I was someone's little girl out there on the field last night.  And people of all ages can bully and be bullied.  Remember that- I know I will.

Words sting like a knife, they really do.  Luckily, I had girlfriends to pick me up.  One lady even posted our picture on Facebook and said we were champions.  The harsh reality is- we lost- a good ole' ass whoopin' where the other team was classy enough to score and put the nail in the coffin in the last thirty seconds to win by at least seven.  But guess what- We are champions.  Sticks and Stones Bitches, Sticks and Stones.  This brute will see ya on the field in a few weeks. Play on, play on.

Tuesday, June 3, 2014

Young Love

Today is my anniversary.  Yep, 14 years. Some days it seems like it has been forever. Some days I wonder how we've made it this long without killing each other. And some days- on days like today, I have a whole new appreciation of love.

Ya see, love these days doesn't look the same as it did fourteen years ago.  Back in the day, I remember celebrating every month, knowing exactly how many months we had been together- sometimes to the day. Tonight, the hubz headed his way to softball with one kid, while I headed the opposite way to baseball with another.  We got home, nuked some chicken nuggets and some canned peas because my Mama says ya have to have something green at every meal, and ate on our best plastic plates.  We threw the kids in the tub, finally got them down and felt like we were really on our A game because three sets of teeth all got brushed.  He wrote out lunch money checks on his couch, and I checked Facebook on mine.  He retired to bed, and I'm up blogging to chill out after a long day. He didn't ditch me because he didn't get lucky, and I didn't even attempt it because I had to take an Imodium earlier today and I know that he knows I pooped on a public toilet at the ball field and that would just be gross to him.  And that is our life.  Romance at its best. Love it or leave it... and every day we make that choice to love it. 

And tonight, as I sit back and reflect on years past, I feel sorry for my children.  With social media, technology, and Lord knows what else they'll have in the years to come, I wonder if my kids will ever know what it means to long for someone.  Like really long for someone- someone who is away at camp with no cell phone, and you can't talk to them for days- and your heart aches. I wonder if my kids will ever know what it feels like to have real life butterflies in their stomach and to get up enough nerve to "ask" someone out or if they will just shoot a text. I wonder if my kids will ever have to really take the time to get to know someone or if they'll know everything from their prospects address to favorite color by internet stalking them beforehand.  I wonder if they'll ever know the anticipation of waiting for a phone call to come through- and to stress for ten minutes about what number ring you should pick it up on. I wonder if they'll ever truly "get" the feeling of excitement like I did when I logged in and heard the words, "you've got mail." I wonder if my kids will ever be far enough from a laptop and spend hours on end writing and doodling on a piece of paper what their "married" name would be and perfecting that signature.  I wonder if they will ever get the effort it takes to write a note, fold it in the most perfect way, and pass it off to a friend so it gets to that special someone.  I wonder what they will make that shows their love instead of a mix tape that took hours on end to track down the perfect songs and recording just right.  Hell, I wonder if they'll stress about if it's actually going to happen on a date- ya know- getting to second base... or if they'll have been sent pictures of boobies and butts on snapchat like it's nothing. I wonder if they'll ever play MASH to predict their husband, ever have to worry if their parents are listening in on a phone call, or even if they'll have to wait weeks to get their Homecoming pictures printed or if it will be snapped on a phone. 

I wonder.

And then I realize, that I'm pretty sure it's all gonna work out just fine. If you had told my twenty year old engaged self that I would be sitting here dead tired spending my anniversary worrying for my children, looking a hot mess, and not living an all out fairy tale, I would have never believed it.  And yet, through it all, this crazy thing called love is pretty freakin' wonderful.

So maybe the best thing to do is just pray we all never lose our sense of wonder so we live to experience the wonderful.