R E S P E C T

Sometimes I don't know when to keep My. Big. Mouth. Shut.

This is a reoccurring thing for me. It has nothing to do with keeping confidences. That I can do just fine.

I guess, what I mean is not saying anything when I'm mad.

You know how they say count to ten. Well, I have no time for that.

Before I tell you what I did today, I'll paint a bigger picture of myself with an example of this behavior a few years ago.

My husband and I were driving to Sam's. It was your typical Sunday and Mr. Yardbird had been pushing me to get on his Sam's membership.  A membership I didn't end up using for two more years.

He was adamant about it. It just couldn't wait. So off to Sam's we went. I was driving my car and Mr. Yardbird was relaxing in the passenger seat, flipping through my radio stations, which drives me nuts. He finally landed on Aretha Franklin's Respect and I told him to leave it.

And I don't know what came over me but I was singing it and I kind of sat up a little straighter in my seat. I was getting kind of sassy I guess. I don't know, that song will do that to you.

Mr. Yardbird just looked out the window trying his best to ignore me.

I pulled to a four way stop. It was mine turn and just as I was crossing over I noticed that the car to my left didn't look like it was going to stop. And before I could stop myself I pointed my finger, real sassy -like and with the song to back me up I mouthed the words, "You need to stop." But I didn't really just say it plainly, I said it like Aretha would if someone didn't stop at her four way stop.

Oh man.

And just as I finished telling that car it needed to stop. I saw something I had never seen before. The woman, who was driving, leaned forward and........started beating her chest and screaming.

Beating. Her. Chest.

I gulped. My eyes were huge as saucers.

I slowly turned to face forward and I put my weak foot on the accelerator.

What did she do?

She whipped her car around and she started following us. Screaming and yelling....and pointing. Oh, it was very scary.

"What do I do?" I whispered. "What do I do?"

"Oh, had you thought about that?" Mr. Yardbird said flatly. "Did you think that through before you POINTED at her and said stop your car.

I shook my head, "But what now, what do I do now?!" I pleaded.

"You are going to have to get out and fight her." Mr Yardbird said with amusement.

I was not amused.

I couldn't fight her. I couldn't fight anyone. She could have knocked  me to the moon with her pinky. Beat her chest? Who does that?

Instead, I did the only thing I could think of. I circled the parking lot twenty times, until she gave up trying to chase me down. And when I parked, I found a spot a million miles away. And I made Mr. Yardbird wait a good twenty minutes before we ventured out of our parked car.

My Sam's membership? Well I don't think I've ever taken a more terrified picture, which I have to look at every time I hand my membership card to the Sam's door person.

I haven't pointed that pointing finger while driving at anyone since, or any other finger for that matter.

So did I learn my lesson? Almost, but not quite.

I'll post that story tomorrow.

One more to go

A few days ago, Ham and I made the trek over to my school so that I could fill out papers for graduation. Basically, I just needed to sign a few papers to say I had one class left and I was eligible to student teach in the fall. After all of that I could put the old cap and gown on and walk across the stage like I've done twice before.

I never thought that hearing the words graduate and signing a paper would sound so great to me, but it did. This whole process has been anything but an easy one.
Ham should know, he has been right there with me the whole time.

He was in my belly when I sat on the tiny children's chairs while I observed an elementary school the day I went into labor and he was rocking in my mom's arms the week we got home from the hospital when I wrote a fifteen page midterm.

He was in my arms at 2am, at 4am, and at 6am while I fed him, with my Transitions and Students w/Learning Disabilities book propped behind his head and he was cooing in the boppy next to me as I typed up my reflections to articles on children's literacy.

He was learning how to crawl, to stand and to sit back down while I poured all of my energy into a math class from hell and he was crying it out while I sat in his room reading my teaching mathematics text with ear plugs on.

He patiently listened to articles about eduation and paper after paper on theories, methods and best practices. He had little choice in the matter, but he was a good sport about it.

And here we were signing the papers to say just one more round, just one more class.

Yes it was anything but easy, but it was worth it. We made it and survived.

But we would never have made it this far without a husband and a dad who  sacrificed so much to make it a million times easier for us, a family who has pulled through and helped out in every way that they could and God for putting the idea in my head and making it possible by sending the right people along at the just the right time.

Welcome Spring!

I'm going to interrupt my current Mr. Yardbird story to talk about how excited I am about the springtime and plants. All over our neighborhood, flowers are in full bloom. For the first time, I have succeeded at keeping several of my potted plants alive and some in the backyard garden and I think that I might just have my mums totally figured out.

This spring my flowers are going strong. And my ever faithful discount hydrangea plant that I got for a remarkable $5.99 is starting to come back, after it nearly died this winter. Or maybe it was just resting, I don't know. At any rate, fresh new leaves are starting to take form at the base of it and I'm hopeful that maybe, just maybe, this three-year old plant will have it's first flower. It's been through a lot.

Bless this poor plant's heart. I just love it so much. Even if it won't give me flowers.

Here's a glimpse of what spring has brought us.

Our Mums!

Here's what I've gathered about mums:

• You shouldn't over water them---- maybe a few times a week in the fall, winter and spring, maybe every day in the hot summer scorching heat.
• Definitely don't over water them when they are in full bloom in the fall.
• After the flowers die, prune the dead flowers.
• They really like to bloom in the fall, but sometimes sporadically throughout the year.
• Cut them back after the spring time, let the new leaves grow in over the summer and you should get some gorgeous mums just in time for the fall.
• When your mums' flowers die and it's time to put spring plants in the pots, move the mums to a garden, even if your husband tells you, you are crazy for planting dead flowers. You will prove him wrong. Mums always come back.

Our Wisteria that just won't die and a plant I found on the side of the house. No clue what it is.

"Enough with the Flowers, Mom."



How I Met Mr. Yardbird - Part 6

Dear 18+ year old Hammy,

It would have been the worst time for your dad to show up. I was a mess, running around, taking orders, trying to keep my cool with this very demanding table of a million obnoxious people.

My hair was now in a pony tail, my makeup was not what it should have been and the only thing I had going for me was that I didn't look half bad in my work polo, pink pleated skirt and pink kangeroo tennis shoes.

I know what you are thinking, sheesh mom, really? Did I need to know that? Well Ham that outfit is something your dad still talks about to this very day. And if you don't think outfits are important, just ask your Pops what Maw Maw was wearing on thier first blind-date.

My friend who was working with me that night was kind enough to take all of the other tables in my section. And that was really nice of her because I was so busy with the big table that I couldn't tell you who came in or was sitting where in my section.

I was so busy I didn't even notice your dad walked in with his friends and sat right smack dab at one of my tables which was of course next to the chaotic mess of a table I was dealing with.

As the night went on, I finally caught a break from my table. Even though my friend was waiting on my tables, I still felt like I should go around and see how everyone was doing. Like I should explain myself for not waiting on them, even though I'm sure they had no idea or wouldn't have cared either way.

I ran over to one table, smiled and chit-chatted about how busy it was that night and were they doing all right, yada yada yada...

And then I bounced over to the next table of four guys. They were sitting at one of the tables near the windows and I seemed to feel like I had interrupted some sort of debate about something. They all glanced up at me in my nervous state and I quickly started asking them how they were doing, could I get them anything, and I smiled as I made eye contact with each one.

And just as I was about to leave the table, because they all said they were doing fine, didn't need anything, I made eye contact with the last person at the table, sitting right next to me on my left.

It was your dad, Ham.

He smiled at me and I said......"Oh my Gosh!?! HEY!"

It was so embarrassing. It was over the top, it was full of excitement, it was too revealing.

I said 'oh my gosh, hey' like I was seeing my long lost friend. Like I knew this person my whole life and fancy seeing them here.

Oh, brother.

My face turned beet red. And Mr. Yardbird and his friends sort of chuckled a little bit.

And I fled the scene, without saying anything more.

I went back to work and thought, thank God, my friend is waiting on them, because I can't afford to embarrass myself again.

But you know what, Ham, I changed my mind about that.

How I Met Mr. Yardbird - Part 5

To get caught up: 
Part 1 - Click Here
Part 2 - Click Here
Part 3 - Click Here
Part 4 - Click Here

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Dear 18+ year old Hammy,

So after your dad confirmed he was single, he got down on his knee and asked me to marry him, right?

No.

He jumped up from his stool and pointed his finger in my direction and said "Ah ha! You are the girl of my dreams!"

Nope, not even that.

The truth it after he left that night, I didn't see your dad very much after that.

I mean, I didn't see your dad for a few days. But for me, that was light years.

I was the giddy girl waiting for him to pop in with his friends, but he never showed up. I picked up shifts, I worked doubles. I offered to sweep all the floors in the bar so I would look fit, so he would think, man, she works out - the next time he saw me. And that was exhausting.

Where was he??

Well, one weekend night I was stuck in the middle section of the inside of the house. I hated this section of the house and I can't remember why.

It was before the mad rush and I was flipping through my notebook to find the next empty page to write on, when it looked like some people were starting to sit in my section.

4 people, not a bad start. But then, I saw one of the guys in the group hop on over to a table nearby and before I knew he was dragging tables together. He was dragging every table he could get his hands on except for the ones near the windows.

And just about five minutes after that, 19 people walked in and the table dragger waved them over as if they had to look far for the never-ending table.

Ham, I felt like I was the barmaid in a medieval mead hall serving 23 warriors before they slayed the big dragon.

23 beer drinking warriors with separate checks.

Everyone was talking at once, shouting really, I could barely understand them and by the time I had served one person and made my way completely around the table they were slamming their empty glass on the table. It was time for another. In fact, it was time for another twenty minutes ago.

I was mad. I was flustered. Beads of sweat were popping up on my forehead and I'm sure, though I never had time to check, my hair was doing the curl thing on the sides like does when it's damp outside.

If your dad was going to show up this would be the worst possible time, right?

Right.

Tangled

This week I'm getting really sentimental. I'm sorry.

As I sit here cutting out felt triangles for Ham's Tangled-themed party, I feel a little sad thinking about what this movie has meant to us this year.

I hadn't even really heard of it until I was watching my friends's little girl when Ham was only three months old. We had just finished washing my car outside with Ham on the porch in his swing. It was the only exciting thing I could think to do with my friend's then three year old. Three year olds are unchartered territory for me. She was not as interested as I thought.

We went inside and I flipped through the movies on Instant Netflix. "Tangled!" she screamed. "I want to watch Tangled!" I shrugged my shoulders and I let her watch tangled while I loaded the dishwasher. Every now and then I peeked at the screen and thought that Disney movies just weren't what they used to be when I was growing up. I didn't even give it a chance.

When Ham was 7 months old he was just beginning to stand up. I was flipping through our Netflix Instant Que trying to find something that had music that Henry could listen to while he played. I was trying to find something that didn't involve a purple dinosoar or highschool kids singing in hall ways. Yes, I went there. Poor Ham.

Then I remembered that Tangled had music to it, so I turned it on.

And the minute that little Mickey Mouse startled whistling in the intro, it was over.

Hammy who was grasping onto the coffee table was now nails dug into my legs grasping onto me. He was smiling his big toothless smile and he was swaying to Rapunzel's intro song.

And as time went on different parts of the movie fascinated him. Sometimes he would laugh out loud at Pascal or he would be enthralled with Flynn Ryder's battle with Maximus the horse.

Sometimes he wanted a better view of the movie. He would crawl on over to me, tug on my pajama pants and I'd scoop him up into my arms and I would lean back into the sofa wrapping my arms tight around him. I would take a big deep breath of his lavender scented baby hair and hope that smell never goes away. But I know one day it will.

As I know one day he will be too big for me to scoop up in my arms. His little fat fingers won't just barely wrap around one of mine. And one day Tangled won't be his favorite movie anymore. He'll like Star Wars or Indiana Jones. He'll be too cool for mom.

But for right now he still likes it. For now, it's still our thing.

Goodbye Bottles

I have to postpone the "How I Met Mr. Yardbird" story for a moment, but I'll finish it as soon as I can get back on that train of thought. I hate doing that, but I've been so busy with school and first birthdays, with transitions that I may have to come back to that one after a few other posts.

Today I was busy getting the house together for Ham's first birthday. I rushed over to Wal-Mart because it was the one place I knew I could get everything I needed in one place otherwise I would need to go to Lowe's and Petco and I had a feeling that too many stops might test Ham's normally pleasant disposition.

At Wal-Mart I rushed through isle after isle. Ham is at a point where he can see toys and he wants toys. With a pointer finger that's always pointing, he can be very clear about which toy it is that he wants. I kicked the gorcery cart in high gear and stayed focused on the mission. Poor Ham's eyes could barely adjust on any one thing on the shelves.

Just as I was leaving I grabbed some Febreze Air Apple Spice Delight because I thought it would be nice to get the house smelling more like delight and less like a diaper geanie and dried green beans stuck to the floor and we headed home with all items checked off of my list.

After I watched one of the top five most depressing, but truthfully good movie "One Day", I wiped my tears away and went back to cleaning the house. I decided it was time to put Ham's bottles away. Now was a better time than any other with the mood "One Day" had left me in. I had been putting off putting away Ham's bottles because the truth is I didn't want to admit he didn't need them anymore, because that's the same thing as saying he's too big for them. And if I was going to put them away I might as well put up the bottle warmer and oh yes, the bottle stand where you hang the bottles to dry. I tried to cheer myself up by reminding myself of all the new counter space I would have now.

As I was putting them up I caught the smell of the Febreze Air Apple Spice Delight wafting down the hall. That combined with me putting bottles in a bag made me have a strange sense of deja vu.

And then I realized it. The last time I bought that particular fabreze scent was right before I had Ham and with that aroma filling up our house I was busy unloading and boilings bottles and setting up bottle warmers and stands on my counters. I was saying goodbye to the counter space and wondering if I would ever get it back.

And now here I was getting my counter space back and thinking counter space isn't all it's cracked up to be without a bottle warmer and bottle stand anyway.