I was catching up with a wonderful mom of one of the University baseball boys. What the devil, I'm telling a true story and she's precious, so I'll use her name - Shoko. She resides in Tokyo, Japan. Yes, as amazing as it sounds, there is a young man who traveled from Tokyo, Japan to play baseball and attend school at Rockhurst University, smack dab in the middle of the great US of A. I got acquainted with Shoko about this same time last year. Her son is her only child and her pride and joy. He got the baseball bug at a young age and he contaminated his mother with his baseball infection. Shoko loves everything baseball.
She said she was so excited that our second son started the sports media for the university. Instead of only being able to watch game stats on the computer, she has been able to listen to play-by-play and color commentary. And as a bonus, depending on where they are playing, sometimes they have a video feed of the game in realtime too.
Sadly, I was out of town when Shoko arrived to Kansas City. And as Murphy's Law would have it, nothing worked out as she had planned. She learned the night before she was leaving Tokyo that her son (a sophomore) was finally asked by Coach to travel with team on an out of towner. This trip was to Kenosha, WI. She found out it was about an hour plus from Chicago. After unsuccessfully attempting to change her flight to arrive in Chicago instead of KC, she looked into renting a car and driving to Kansas City. When she found out the distance was 8+ hours she decided against that as well. She confided that she was worried that she would take a wrong turn and there was no telling where she might end up.
She is one of the most positive people I've ever had the pleasure to meet. She was sad not to be able to change her plans but was excited that she was soon to depart for her week in KC. She said that she was going to see all the exciting things KC had to offer while her son was gone on the baseball trip.
She had prepaid and planned to stay at a "very nice" hotel for the beginning of her trip and then later in the week she was moving to a very cut rate, clean but no extras hotel. Thinking that as she was arriving right before the weekend, her son could come and stay at the hotel with her and they could enjoy the indoor pool and all the incredible amenities. But baseball changed those plans too. Shoko was determined to make the most of her time alone.
I wish I had video so you could see the excitement on her face when she told me of her weekends adventures. She visited: 1) the P & L District, 2) Aquarium, 3) Union Station, 4) The Kauffman Center, 5) The Nelson-Adkins Museum, 6) The Kansas City Zoo, and 7) the shopping mecca of KC - The Plaza. She said she really didn't feel like shopping while she walked through the Plaza. I would think that living in Tokyo, you would have lots of opportunities to shop Louis Vuitton, Gucci, and their rest of their expensive hoity-toity cousins.
She said that the greatest place she visited, and the one she spent the most time at was - (the anticipation should be building right now) - TARGET! She said, "Oh Michelle, it is amazing. You wouldn't believe all the things they have and the prices are incredible!" She said that the shampoo she spends $19 dollars on in Japan for a tiny bottle they sell at Target for $2.49 for a HUGE bottle. She was in awe that you could buy cans of olive oil that sprayed. She was so enthralled she bought three cans to take back with her. She said she spent hours walking up and down every isle, mesmerized by every product and price.
I couldn't help it, I laughed my behind off right there in front of her. She was so very sincere and serious about how incredible Target was. Of all the incredible sights she had visited, Target was the MOST favorite of her KC destinations.
She said her son took her out for a regular American breakfast. I'm thinking something along the lines of: IHOP, Corner Cafe, or one of the little dives down in the hood. But once again, you could have knocked me over with a feather. She said, "Michelle, he took me for a wonderful meal at Quick Trip". (For readers outside the Midwest area, Quick Trip would be along the lines of 7-Eleven.) She said she had the most wonderful hotdog. She couldn't believe all the vegetables they had available to go on the hotdogs too. She giggled and said, "I have to admit the jalapeno and cheese hotdog was my favorite".
I am now falling out of my stadium seat laughing. I made her promise that next year she'll 1) stay at our house instead of a hotel; 2) let me to take her out for a REAL authentic American breakfast; and 3) allow me to take her to SUPER TARGET. I'm figuring it could be an all day affair. It's a good thing that they have a little "cafe" there, we'll probably be there for a meal too!
Target......... Who would have thought?
Tuesday, March 31, 2015
Monday, March 30, 2015
I thought I was the giver, not the recipient.
A few years ago, I loose track of time - it could have been ten years, Donna, Kim, and I went to lunch at one of my favorite places in Kansas City ~ The Webster House. I've been going there for well over 17 years. It has morphed over the years from a mostly antique and home accent mecca that served a fabulous "Ladies Lunch" to The place to go before or after a performance at the Kauffman Center. When we went, it was still the fabulous Ladies Lunch place. (Any southern woman knows exactly what I mean be that definition too.)
We were there to celebrate one of our birthdays. While we were sitting there chatting and laughing, I noticed three little old ladies sitting a couple of tables away. They were almost a duplicate of our table. They were chatting and laughing and having a wonderful time. I couldn't keep my eyes off of them. I had already mentally determined which one was the older version of each of us. I finally had to share with my friends what was going on. Now we were ALL mesmerized by the trio of "old us".
We continued to enjoy our birthday luncheon, but every so often we caught each other sneaking a quick glance at the other table. When our waiter arrived with the bill, I requested the bill for the other "girls" as well. After all they had truly added to our birthday celebration and I alway get a warm feeling whenever I can do a random act of kindness. I requested that he not tell them who had bought their lunch until after we had left. Well, leave it to a man to NOT do as requested. He spilled the beans. On our way out, the "girls" stopped us and thanked us profusely for treating them. They then admitted that throughout their lunch, they were enjoying watching us. We reminded them of themselves years earlier.
When we asked if they were there was a special occasion, they shared that in fact they were celebrating a birthday. The six of us erupted in laughter. We then stood there for about twenty minutes chatting like we had just met up with cousins we hadn't seen in years and years. Not a single one of us worried about what the other diners might think of our raucous discussion (my grandmother would have fainted in embarrassment of our behavior). The leader of their group requested that I give her my name and address, and of course I complied. It was about a week later that I received my first letter. She filled me in with deeper detail of the "girls". The youngest was 79 and the oldest was the one celebrating her birthday at the tender age of 90. She thanked us profusely for our kindness and requested I drop her a note now and then.
All three of them have now gone on to a better place, but I shall keep all their memories with me.
Remember, you never know what side of the observation table you're sitting.
We were there to celebrate one of our birthdays. While we were sitting there chatting and laughing, I noticed three little old ladies sitting a couple of tables away. They were almost a duplicate of our table. They were chatting and laughing and having a wonderful time. I couldn't keep my eyes off of them. I had already mentally determined which one was the older version of each of us. I finally had to share with my friends what was going on. Now we were ALL mesmerized by the trio of "old us".
We continued to enjoy our birthday luncheon, but every so often we caught each other sneaking a quick glance at the other table. When our waiter arrived with the bill, I requested the bill for the other "girls" as well. After all they had truly added to our birthday celebration and I alway get a warm feeling whenever I can do a random act of kindness. I requested that he not tell them who had bought their lunch until after we had left. Well, leave it to a man to NOT do as requested. He spilled the beans. On our way out, the "girls" stopped us and thanked us profusely for treating them. They then admitted that throughout their lunch, they were enjoying watching us. We reminded them of themselves years earlier.
When we asked if they were there was a special occasion, they shared that in fact they were celebrating a birthday. The six of us erupted in laughter. We then stood there for about twenty minutes chatting like we had just met up with cousins we hadn't seen in years and years. Not a single one of us worried about what the other diners might think of our raucous discussion (my grandmother would have fainted in embarrassment of our behavior). The leader of their group requested that I give her my name and address, and of course I complied. It was about a week later that I received my first letter. She filled me in with deeper detail of the "girls". The youngest was 79 and the oldest was the one celebrating her birthday at the tender age of 90. She thanked us profusely for our kindness and requested I drop her a note now and then.
All three of them have now gone on to a better place, but I shall keep all their memories with me.
Remember, you never know what side of the observation table you're sitting.
Friday, March 27, 2015
San Diego Anyone?
No, I didn't fall off the face of the planet. I just landed in San Diego. I was invited to go on a "Girls Trip". Not to be confused with a "Bama Babes" trip. How great was this going to be? Five wonderful days in sunny California. In 51 years, the only times I'd been there before were for brief periods during layovers on my way to the even sunnier Hawaii. This had the earmark of super cool.
The trip participants consisted of me, my friend Ria and her daughter, the beautiful JennaBanenna, and her delightful friend Molly McButter - whose superpower I found is talking - nonstop, from morning throughout the entire day and night - yes, she even talks in her sleep! (The names might have been changed to protect the innocent or they could have just been altered because anyone who knows me knows that when I really like someone I tend to give them altered names.)
The only plans we made before arriving were 1) the hotel - Ria's loving hubby decided the one that we needed to stay. I have to admit the Loews Coronado was an incredible location. Coronado Island is definitely highly recommended - by me, now. 2) I rented us a beautiful brand new Mustang convertible. Now you have to remember that I have a family that consists of myself, my hubby and my fabulous four sons. I really didn't think the whole convertible thing out well. All I was thinking was soon to be teenaged girls would love the car, beautiful weather, and a great view to sightsee. What I wasn't thinking was: wind through soon to be teenaged girls hair, sunburned shoulders, and most of all WHERE ARE WE PUTTING ALL THE FLIPPING LUGGAGE????? (More about that in a bit.) And finally 3) I got online and signed us up for tickets to attend the taping of American's Funniest Home Video's. Granted it was in LA but what is a measly two hour and fifteen minute drive when you are already so close. Besides, it was supposed to be a beautiful drive up the coast and there was so much potential for sightseeing to be done there too.
We arrived safely in San Diego. We all managed to get our suitcases without issue. How I ended up with the most is still beyond me. I usually pride myself on my ability to pack light. (Okay, Colleen, I know I packed a little heavy for France, but my God, it was France!) I think my over indulging had something to do with the fact that when traveling with MY family I'm lucky if I get to pack three different pairs of shoes - tennis shoes, dress shoes, and flip flops. And then I have to justify the reason for bringing so many. So, I figured, girls trip - I'm going to splurge. I brought two and one suitcase consisted of nothing but shoes and makeup. In actuality I only ended up wearing three pairs - tennis shoes, dress shoes, and flip flops. And I don't know why I even bothered to bring a makeup case. I'm really not sure why I even have a makeup case. I used what I normally do: mascara, under eye concealer, and lip gloss. I guess I could have left that suitcase at home. Oh well, lesson learned.
It was on the car rental shuttle bus that I heard the first of many "girl screams". I think I levitated six inches straight out of my seat. But when I glanced fervently towards Ria - she was calmly looking out the window - Another little scream, I was expecting to see great volumes of blood spurting from a huge gash in one of the girls. But there was none. Just the sight of two almost teens with their heads bowed together, sharing something they had seen on Instagram. I have to admit, there might have been a slight spike in my blood pressure. But Ria's calmness was almost zen-like. I'm not sure how she is able to tune it out, but she does. I was able to witness it first hand a couple more times over the five day period. I think my neck tick was a give away, Ria sweetly requested the girls tame the screams because Momma Baker wasn't used to it. (Another reason I love that woman!)
The shuttle arrived safe and relatively sound (all previously mentioned sound bytes considered) at the car rental agency. After filling out and initialing twenty-five additional pieces of paper - I'm really glad I pre-rented and pre-paid for the car before we arrived. When we finally finished, he handed me the keys and bid me a safe and fun adventure. At this point in time the whole luggage issue still hadn't hit me. It wasn't until I pulled the car forward in order to reach the trunk that the naughty words started forming in my head. It was also about that time that the theme song for the Beverly Hillbillies started playing in my head as well. Needless to say there was quite a jumble going on it my head about then. But with jigsaw'esk ninja powers and a couple of well placed suitcases under feet and stuffed between people, we were able to head to the hotel.
I did learn an interesting fact. How badly someone snores is truly subjectively decided by whomever is actually hearing the snoring. Example: my hubby says I sound like a bear, however, my dear friend Ria said it wasn't bad at all. (Now I not going to point fingers, but I am a little dubious in trusting the man who has been known to wake himself up snoring and blames it on me - the person who is sitting up in bed wide awake reading a book.)
To wrap up this long winded, rambling, often off point post, let me say: "It was a fabulous trip and hope to have another in the future."
And I am completely and totally blessed to have my fabulous, wonderful, loving SONS!
The trip participants consisted of me, my friend Ria and her daughter, the beautiful JennaBanenna, and her delightful friend Molly McButter - whose superpower I found is talking - nonstop, from morning throughout the entire day and night - yes, she even talks in her sleep! (The names might have been changed to protect the innocent or they could have just been altered because anyone who knows me knows that when I really like someone I tend to give them altered names.)
The only plans we made before arriving were 1) the hotel - Ria's loving hubby decided the one that we needed to stay. I have to admit the Loews Coronado was an incredible location. Coronado Island is definitely highly recommended - by me, now. 2) I rented us a beautiful brand new Mustang convertible. Now you have to remember that I have a family that consists of myself, my hubby and my fabulous four sons. I really didn't think the whole convertible thing out well. All I was thinking was soon to be teenaged girls would love the car, beautiful weather, and a great view to sightsee. What I wasn't thinking was: wind through soon to be teenaged girls hair, sunburned shoulders, and most of all WHERE ARE WE PUTTING ALL THE FLIPPING LUGGAGE????? (More about that in a bit.) And finally 3) I got online and signed us up for tickets to attend the taping of American's Funniest Home Video's. Granted it was in LA but what is a measly two hour and fifteen minute drive when you are already so close. Besides, it was supposed to be a beautiful drive up the coast and there was so much potential for sightseeing to be done there too.
We arrived safely in San Diego. We all managed to get our suitcases without issue. How I ended up with the most is still beyond me. I usually pride myself on my ability to pack light. (Okay, Colleen, I know I packed a little heavy for France, but my God, it was France!) I think my over indulging had something to do with the fact that when traveling with MY family I'm lucky if I get to pack three different pairs of shoes - tennis shoes, dress shoes, and flip flops. And then I have to justify the reason for bringing so many. So, I figured, girls trip - I'm going to splurge. I brought two and one suitcase consisted of nothing but shoes and makeup. In actuality I only ended up wearing three pairs - tennis shoes, dress shoes, and flip flops. And I don't know why I even bothered to bring a makeup case. I'm really not sure why I even have a makeup case. I used what I normally do: mascara, under eye concealer, and lip gloss. I guess I could have left that suitcase at home. Oh well, lesson learned.
It was on the car rental shuttle bus that I heard the first of many "girl screams". I think I levitated six inches straight out of my seat. But when I glanced fervently towards Ria - she was calmly looking out the window - Another little scream, I was expecting to see great volumes of blood spurting from a huge gash in one of the girls. But there was none. Just the sight of two almost teens with their heads bowed together, sharing something they had seen on Instagram. I have to admit, there might have been a slight spike in my blood pressure. But Ria's calmness was almost zen-like. I'm not sure how she is able to tune it out, but she does. I was able to witness it first hand a couple more times over the five day period. I think my neck tick was a give away, Ria sweetly requested the girls tame the screams because Momma Baker wasn't used to it. (Another reason I love that woman!)
The shuttle arrived safe and relatively sound (all previously mentioned sound bytes considered) at the car rental agency. After filling out and initialing twenty-five additional pieces of paper - I'm really glad I pre-rented and pre-paid for the car before we arrived. When we finally finished, he handed me the keys and bid me a safe and fun adventure. At this point in time the whole luggage issue still hadn't hit me. It wasn't until I pulled the car forward in order to reach the trunk that the naughty words started forming in my head. It was also about that time that the theme song for the Beverly Hillbillies started playing in my head as well. Needless to say there was quite a jumble going on it my head about then. But with jigsaw'esk ninja powers and a couple of well placed suitcases under feet and stuffed between people, we were able to head to the hotel.
I did learn an interesting fact. How badly someone snores is truly subjectively decided by whomever is actually hearing the snoring. Example: my hubby says I sound like a bear, however, my dear friend Ria said it wasn't bad at all. (Now I not going to point fingers, but I am a little dubious in trusting the man who has been known to wake himself up snoring and blames it on me - the person who is sitting up in bed wide awake reading a book.)
To wrap up this long winded, rambling, often off point post, let me say: "It was a fabulous trip and hope to have another in the future."
And I am completely and totally blessed to have my fabulous, wonderful, loving SONS!
Thursday, March 5, 2015
Piss Off or Smile
Do you like to play games? I'm not talking about the ones that we grew up on - Monopoly, Life, Scrabble... I'm talking about games that you make up. Games that you play with yourself. No, I don't mean "play with yourself". I mean play alone, with just yourself.
I try to pick a day during the week to accomplish all my running around errands. Yes, it does mean that I'm out the door as early at 7:30 am some mornings (Yes, I have my business Sam's Wholesale Club card just so I can beat the crazies there!) and don't get home until some time between 3:30 and 4:30. It's an exhausting day, but it accomplishes everything so I can blow off the remainder of the week. You know, since I'm officially a "stay at home mom" I do nothing. Sit around eating Bon Bon's and watching soap operas.
Okay, sorry, I have to segway here. Early marriage with a 23 month and a brand new baby, my husband used to joke and ask me why I was ready to go to bed by 8pm. After all, all I did during the day was play with the boys and eat bon bon's and watch soap operas. I would nod and laugh half heartedly while I repeated the phrase, "Yeah, right" over and over. And I would again stifle the impulse to put a pillow over his snoring head and hold it there while I was up at either the midnight or 2am feedings.
There was one defining moment in our marriage, okay I'm sure there have been several defining moments in our marriage but this is the only one that comes to mind right now. On one exceptionally rough day, I finally had a quiet moment to myself when both boys were asleep. The kitchen was cleaned up from both breakfast and lunch for the boys (I had not had an opportunity to eat yet), laundry done, and most of the toys picked up. It was at that moment I grabbed a ice pop from the freezer, pulled up a stool and placed my swollen ankles up and turned on Oprah. It was at that very second, when the "ahhhhhhh" was coming out of my mouth that ..... My HUSBAND walked in the room. (This was not his normal arrival time, it was only 3 in the afternoon.)
His reaction was priceless! From the way that he hollered, you would have thought he walked in the bedroom and found me in bed with two other men. "Ahhh hahhhh!!!!" He exclaimed. "I was wrong. It isn't bon bon's and soap operas, it's ice cream and Oprah!!" I tried diligently to explain that in no part of any country could you compare an ice cream and a freezer pop. Come on MAN, after all a freezer pop is basically frozen kool-aid. He wouldn't believe me when I said it was the first time I had sat down all day. So for 27 years of marriage, it's known that all I do is watch Oprah and eat ice cream. Yeah, okay.....
Back to my made up games. Here is the one of my favorites. It's called Piss Off or Smile. You keep a running count throughout the entire day of people you either Piss Off or make Smile. Here's how it works. You basically have to make people make eye contact with you. That's right, look them straight in the eye as you approach. Then just after direct eye contact is engaged, you SMILE. I'm not taking about a meager little no teeth showing grin. I mean a show those pearlies, ear to ear smile. Then to seal the deal, you say either "hello" or "how are you today". The reactions are priceless. I'm not going to tell you yet what the reactions are yet. But there is usually one of three reactions.
It's lots of fun. There's no cost involved, it's gluten free, and it won't impede your dieting. So go ahead, give it a try tomorrow then come back here and post what your experience was.
I try to pick a day during the week to accomplish all my running around errands. Yes, it does mean that I'm out the door as early at 7:30 am some mornings (Yes, I have my business Sam's Wholesale Club card just so I can beat the crazies there!) and don't get home until some time between 3:30 and 4:30. It's an exhausting day, but it accomplishes everything so I can blow off the remainder of the week. You know, since I'm officially a "stay at home mom" I do nothing. Sit around eating Bon Bon's and watching soap operas.
Okay, sorry, I have to segway here. Early marriage with a 23 month and a brand new baby, my husband used to joke and ask me why I was ready to go to bed by 8pm. After all, all I did during the day was play with the boys and eat bon bon's and watch soap operas. I would nod and laugh half heartedly while I repeated the phrase, "Yeah, right" over and over. And I would again stifle the impulse to put a pillow over his snoring head and hold it there while I was up at either the midnight or 2am feedings.
There was one defining moment in our marriage, okay I'm sure there have been several defining moments in our marriage but this is the only one that comes to mind right now. On one exceptionally rough day, I finally had a quiet moment to myself when both boys were asleep. The kitchen was cleaned up from both breakfast and lunch for the boys (I had not had an opportunity to eat yet), laundry done, and most of the toys picked up. It was at that moment I grabbed a ice pop from the freezer, pulled up a stool and placed my swollen ankles up and turned on Oprah. It was at that very second, when the "ahhhhhhh" was coming out of my mouth that ..... My HUSBAND walked in the room. (This was not his normal arrival time, it was only 3 in the afternoon.)
His reaction was priceless! From the way that he hollered, you would have thought he walked in the bedroom and found me in bed with two other men. "Ahhh hahhhh!!!!" He exclaimed. "I was wrong. It isn't bon bon's and soap operas, it's ice cream and Oprah!!" I tried diligently to explain that in no part of any country could you compare an ice cream and a freezer pop. Come on MAN, after all a freezer pop is basically frozen kool-aid. He wouldn't believe me when I said it was the first time I had sat down all day. So for 27 years of marriage, it's known that all I do is watch Oprah and eat ice cream. Yeah, okay.....
Back to my made up games. Here is the one of my favorites. It's called Piss Off or Smile. You keep a running count throughout the entire day of people you either Piss Off or make Smile. Here's how it works. You basically have to make people make eye contact with you. That's right, look them straight in the eye as you approach. Then just after direct eye contact is engaged, you SMILE. I'm not taking about a meager little no teeth showing grin. I mean a show those pearlies, ear to ear smile. Then to seal the deal, you say either "hello" or "how are you today". The reactions are priceless. I'm not going to tell you yet what the reactions are yet. But there is usually one of three reactions.
It's lots of fun. There's no cost involved, it's gluten free, and it won't impede your dieting. So go ahead, give it a try tomorrow then come back here and post what your experience was.
Erma Where Are You????
Monday, March 2, 2015
My Teeth Hurt
I'm so sick....and all my family is out of town.
Come on folks, I'm allowed a pity-party now and then.
Come on folks, I'm allowed a pity-party now and then.
- My teeth HURT - Yes, Libby, I've flossed. Yes, Libby. I've brushed my teeth - daily (See below) I'm guessing right about now that those of you who don't know Libby have determined she is an ever vigilant dental hygienist.
- My nose is so stuffed, I can't smell how bad I smell (and only realized this when the dogs wouldn't lie down by me). And exactly how can one's nose be stuffed up but still drip at the same time?
- My hair hurts
- Coughing threw my back out
- Did I mention my teeth hurt?
- I'm considering cough syrup a "juice" category
- I tell time by the medications I have to take
- I jump at the offer by a friend to grab dinner for me (and then I request Taco Bell (???))
- Walking to the bathroom is a planned event
- Really, 50 years, and this is the first time my teeth hurt
- A hand-drill to the middle of the forehead might reduce the pressure (still holding out on this one)
- Brushing teeth is an event requiring a new way to breath (nose stuffed)
- I didn't mind answering the phone for telemarketers - as long as I was in the middle of a coughing fit.
- I've morphed into my dad, I check my snot each time I blow my nose (OMG this is gross!)
- ......and finally..... I consider my gummy vitamin to be dessert!
I shall be calling the doctor again tomorrow morning. It's been a week since our last rendezvous.
In the meantime, from the annals of sympathetic wisdoms bestowed upon me from my dad's first wife:
"Suck It Up Sally"
Saturday, February 28, 2015
My Daughter's Mother's Name is Deb
Deb, my dear friend, my co-parent, my fire pit buddy, my always has a glass of wine ready for me should I need one. It seems as though we've been friends for a lifetime but in actuality it's only been a rather short period of time. Junior year of high school - 2005. (No, not our junior year - our first born children's.) We came into each other lives when I realized that she had given birth to the daughter that I was supposed to have. So we decided to share. It helped that her daughter was dating my #1 son's best friend. When I needed "girl time" Jesse was the one I called upon. And Deb sweetly handed her over. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement for both Deb and I. Jessica was (is) a beautiful girl. She can be model beautiful, then go in and change cloths, head out to the woods. Shoot, kill, field dress, haul it back to the truck, load it up, bring it home, and finally skin the deer. Then bop back into the kitchen with the tenderloin in hand ready to help cook dinner.
Jesse was always a low drama / no drama girl. (Well, except for the one very short time in her life that we just refuse to remember - and EVERYONE has a one of those times in their life. Her's could have been much, much, much worse. But when you consider it was Jessica it was bad enough!) She can cut through BS swifter than a hot knife through butter in July. She is very academic. A self starter, truly faith filled with a servants heart. (No, that doesn't mean she cater's to people Martin! LOLLOL) And always succeeds in whatever venture or adventure she begins. Nothing phased this young women. Which was a good thing because God chose her to be the oldest of four in her family. She is followed in birth order by three younger brothers. Then when you add in our four sons, she is the girl with seven brothers. It's a touch job, but she has always handled it well.
Here's a for example for you. The place, baseball field in the heat of summer. Jesse and our #4 were there with me watching the game. #4 had just gotten back from the concession stand, his purchase, a giant king size, fresh from the refrigerator Snickers candy bar. Jesse watched as he carefully unwrapped it, ever so carefully. After he took his first bite, she leaned in closer and requested a little bite. Without even a hint of a delay, #4 said, "Sure". He started to hand it over to her, paused, brought it back to his mouth and proceeded to lick the entire candy bar from bottom to top. Then handed it back to her. She said, "Thanks" and took an enormous bite. If only you could have been there to see the look on his face. She burst out laughing and said, "Before you were a giant butt and licked the candy, I was only going to take a little bite, but when you decided to lick it, I was going to make it worth it. You can tell you've never had a sister before, nothing gets between a girl and chocolate!" That sealed their relationship......
Jesse integrated very well. Tennis, dodge ball, basketball - okay here's a good one about basketball. So all the boys, and Jesse, are heading out to play a pick up game of basketball. I hear them call captains, then I hear one of the Baker Boys call "Shirts". Followed by Jesse's boyfriend, Ryan, hollering "Yeah, right! She will not be playing SKINS!!" Once, during a game of two hand touch football, one of the boys (NOT a Baker!!) got a little handsie with Jessee. She proceeded to drop him to the ground like a bag of cement. When Deb and I questioned our sons about why none of them stepped forward to help Jesse, they all laughed and said they would have helped if she needed it but she didn't, she had in all in control!
Jessica found the love of her life. As fate would have it, she recycled. Yep, she found that the love of her life was actually the first love of her life. Poor Jake! The boys got gumption. When you can look into the faces of nine men and profess your love for a girl, well, it's gotta be real. I'm not sure he'll willingly go hiking with his brothers-in-law again, but you can't ever tell. Over time his memory might diminish. But that's fodder for a future post. Suffice to say, Jake is a wonderful, talented, smart, hardworking, good looking young man. (Who know's how to eat!)
My husband is not a very showy or emotional man. (Okay, that's probably one of the biggest understatements I could ever make.) He did however, make my heart grow three sizes larger when I heard what he told Jessica on her wedding day. He told her that she looked beautiful and the only thing that could have made it better was if "she had married a Baker Boy". (Not that that was ever an option - siblings for LIFE!) Deb and I boo-hoo'ed over that one.
As for me, I was bursting with joy watching that girl, my daughter, on her wedding day. She and Deb made sure that there was a 2nd Momma of the Bride corsage - just for me. Jessica wore the silver and blue cross (her something borrowed, something blue), Deb lovingly sewed it onto her wedding dress. I bought the cross earlier in the summer in Paris at Notre Dame Cathedral. I wasn't sure why at the time, but I was definitely drawn to it. I'd like to think that all my future daughters-in-law would like to borrow my blue cross to use as their borrowed or blue. Jessica loves that she was the FIRST.
Jesse was always a low drama / no drama girl. (Well, except for the one very short time in her life that we just refuse to remember - and EVERYONE has a one of those times in their life. Her's could have been much, much, much worse. But when you consider it was Jessica it was bad enough!) She can cut through BS swifter than a hot knife through butter in July. She is very academic. A self starter, truly faith filled with a servants heart. (No, that doesn't mean she cater's to people Martin! LOLLOL) And always succeeds in whatever venture or adventure she begins. Nothing phased this young women. Which was a good thing because God chose her to be the oldest of four in her family. She is followed in birth order by three younger brothers. Then when you add in our four sons, she is the girl with seven brothers. It's a touch job, but she has always handled it well.
Here's a for example for you. The place, baseball field in the heat of summer. Jesse and our #4 were there with me watching the game. #4 had just gotten back from the concession stand, his purchase, a giant king size, fresh from the refrigerator Snickers candy bar. Jesse watched as he carefully unwrapped it, ever so carefully. After he took his first bite, she leaned in closer and requested a little bite. Without even a hint of a delay, #4 said, "Sure". He started to hand it over to her, paused, brought it back to his mouth and proceeded to lick the entire candy bar from bottom to top. Then handed it back to her. She said, "Thanks" and took an enormous bite. If only you could have been there to see the look on his face. She burst out laughing and said, "Before you were a giant butt and licked the candy, I was only going to take a little bite, but when you decided to lick it, I was going to make it worth it. You can tell you've never had a sister before, nothing gets between a girl and chocolate!" That sealed their relationship......
Jesse integrated very well. Tennis, dodge ball, basketball - okay here's a good one about basketball. So all the boys, and Jesse, are heading out to play a pick up game of basketball. I hear them call captains, then I hear one of the Baker Boys call "Shirts". Followed by Jesse's boyfriend, Ryan, hollering "Yeah, right! She will not be playing SKINS!!" Once, during a game of two hand touch football, one of the boys (NOT a Baker!!) got a little handsie with Jessee. She proceeded to drop him to the ground like a bag of cement. When Deb and I questioned our sons about why none of them stepped forward to help Jesse, they all laughed and said they would have helped if she needed it but she didn't, she had in all in control!
Jessica found the love of her life. As fate would have it, she recycled. Yep, she found that the love of her life was actually the first love of her life. Poor Jake! The boys got gumption. When you can look into the faces of nine men and profess your love for a girl, well, it's gotta be real. I'm not sure he'll willingly go hiking with his brothers-in-law again, but you can't ever tell. Over time his memory might diminish. But that's fodder for a future post. Suffice to say, Jake is a wonderful, talented, smart, hardworking, good looking young man. (Who know's how to eat!)
My husband is not a very showy or emotional man. (Okay, that's probably one of the biggest understatements I could ever make.) He did however, make my heart grow three sizes larger when I heard what he told Jessica on her wedding day. He told her that she looked beautiful and the only thing that could have made it better was if "she had married a Baker Boy". (Not that that was ever an option - siblings for LIFE!) Deb and I boo-hoo'ed over that one.
As for me, I was bursting with joy watching that girl, my daughter, on her wedding day. She and Deb made sure that there was a 2nd Momma of the Bride corsage - just for me. Jessica wore the silver and blue cross (her something borrowed, something blue), Deb lovingly sewed it onto her wedding dress. I bought the cross earlier in the summer in Paris at Notre Dame Cathedral. I wasn't sure why at the time, but I was definitely drawn to it. I'd like to think that all my future daughters-in-law would like to borrow my blue cross to use as their borrowed or blue. Jessica loves that she was the FIRST.
I've so enjoyed the path we've walked so far.
Plus, look at all the many options I have to become a Glam-ma.
In the meantime, I'll continue to enjoy journey....
Friday, February 27, 2015
An Un-Normally Normal Day
Have you ever had one of those days?
This was the day of our once a month bunco Wednesday (we've been meeting for the past 17 years). I decided to shower and do my hair and makeup first thing. I had a pretty clear day - nothing scheduled but some light housework planned. Just a little puttering about. It seems like no matter how hard I tried, I always tend to run late and show up to bunco with either my hair tied back or a baseball cap on, not a speck of makeup on and wearing the ever unfashionable yoga pant and tee-shirt ensemble. Really, do that many people actually do yoga, or do they just want to wear the hold-it-in-place, never-binding britches. I indulged and took a long hot shower, complete with conditioner, and a leg shave (both of em).
Then the day from hell started. I mean REALLY started. You know the kind of day I'm talking about. You open the pantry door and as you're reaching for the box of cereal, you knock over a jar of sauce..... which you watch in slow motion as it plummets end over end before shattering on the floor. Not a simple glass breaking episode. But a powerful mini-nuclear-esq feat. It takes three turns to arrive from our kitchen to the front door. That jar hit the floor with such force that there were pieces of that stinking jar in my foyer!!!
A mere hour and a half later, I was finally able to make it back to the pantry to grab that box of cereal. You remember that cereal, the box that caused the cataclysmic issue above. Well, that STINKING box of cereal was EMPTY!!! Okay, I embellish, it had five pieces of golden grahams left in the bottom of the otherwise big, empty box! Another item to put on my grocery list. So much for my breakfast. I'll just grab lunch a little early.
I start the dishwasher. Not a major event. I'm piddling around the kitchen, wiping down counters, which somehow turns into a refrigerator clean out. Halfway through the dishwasher cycle, a toxic smell starts emanating from within. I open the door, yep, there is a gush of water that runs out. After all the dishwasher WAS running before I opened it. Stop, clean up water on the floor. Reopen door, with a little more care this time. Find that someone had accidentally put a throw away fork in the dishwasher, where it managed to work its way out of the utensil holder and down onto the heating element. However it managed to do it, it did. About 35-45 minutes to clean the inside of the dishwasher, and all the moving parts that ended up with bitty pieces of melted plastic on them.
When I finally closed the washer door for the final time, I looked down at the floor and realized how incredible the floor looked where I had just mopped up water, compared to the rest of the floor that just looked blah - at best. Another two and a half hours later, the floor in the kitchen, breakfast room, hallway, guest bath and foyer were all sparkling.
The dogs were clamoring to go out. Without a second thought on the matter, (dumb a$$, dumb a$$, dumb a$$) I let them out. I then headed to the laundry room. How does that poem go? "For Whom the Bell Tolls", ummm, yeah, right... completely out of context. There WAS a bell tolling, however, it was just the dryer bell telling me the towels were dry and fluffy. After folding an extra large load of towels. Switching from washer to dryer and reloading the washer, I was in and out of the laundry room in a mere 20 minutes.
That's when I heard the dogs at the back door requesting readmission. I wish my eyes would have communicated to my brain a second and a half before my brain had my arm opening the door for those mangey mongrels. (They're actually pedigreed but at this point I could care less - they were lucky to be breathing!) What should have been communicated quicker was STOP, the sprinkler had come on when they were outside playing and they turned it into a wet water find dirt game. And they BOTH won. In they ran. On my beautiful freshly washed floors. All of them! They slipped, they slid, they skidded. It was a doggie fest. I finally got them corralled in their kennel and ran to the laundry room where I grabbed the closest things I could find to clean up their wet gooey muddy mess, my freshly washed and fluffed towels.
Figure another three hours to wash, dry, and comb out: one still living and breathing Chesapeake Bay Retriever and one still living and breathing German Shepherd (Yes, I quantified that description. I don't want to hear any negative feedback from PETA people questioning.....) Another 30 minutes to wash down and defur the bathroom shower I used to shampoo those hairballs. Throw in another hour to rewash the entire first floor. Yes, it took me two and 1/2 hours the first time but really, by now I really didn't give a damn. The big chucks were gone. If there was some smearing, squint and don't look close!
Forget about lunch of any kind. School had already let out. My entire day was a complete waste of time. I had nothing to show for it. Now there was no time to prepare dinner for my herd. Plus, I still had to get ready for bunco. (My earlier shower, hair and makeup session was but a distant memory by now.) I was creatureisq. There's truly no better description that comes to mind.
Back in the shower I go, forget about conditioner this time. I'm lucky to get all the dog hair and mud off me in one sudsy maneuver. Well, so much for preplanning. I have enough time to either put on make and do my hair or run by the grocery and pick up dessert for my herd (yep, I'm feeling guilty for calling hubby and having him pick up something for dinner on the way home). My Bunco Babes are used to seeing me in a ball cap, yoga pants, and tee shirt. Why should today be any different.
In I walked to bunco, fifteen minutes late, starving, and ready for a very, very cold margarita or three...... I'm not sure if it was my imagination or did one of the bunco babes murmur - really, Baker's at home all day, you'd think she'd take a little time to make herself more presentable..... I decided to let my imagination take that one. Grandmother always taught me a young/old lady never throws a punch.
This was the day of our once a month bunco Wednesday (we've been meeting for the past 17 years). I decided to shower and do my hair and makeup first thing. I had a pretty clear day - nothing scheduled but some light housework planned. Just a little puttering about. It seems like no matter how hard I tried, I always tend to run late and show up to bunco with either my hair tied back or a baseball cap on, not a speck of makeup on and wearing the ever unfashionable yoga pant and tee-shirt ensemble. Really, do that many people actually do yoga, or do they just want to wear the hold-it-in-place, never-binding britches. I indulged and took a long hot shower, complete with conditioner, and a leg shave (both of em).
Then the day from hell started. I mean REALLY started. You know the kind of day I'm talking about. You open the pantry door and as you're reaching for the box of cereal, you knock over a jar of sauce..... which you watch in slow motion as it plummets end over end before shattering on the floor. Not a simple glass breaking episode. But a powerful mini-nuclear-esq feat. It takes three turns to arrive from our kitchen to the front door. That jar hit the floor with such force that there were pieces of that stinking jar in my foyer!!!
A mere hour and a half later, I was finally able to make it back to the pantry to grab that box of cereal. You remember that cereal, the box that caused the cataclysmic issue above. Well, that STINKING box of cereal was EMPTY!!! Okay, I embellish, it had five pieces of golden grahams left in the bottom of the otherwise big, empty box! Another item to put on my grocery list. So much for my breakfast. I'll just grab lunch a little early.
I start the dishwasher. Not a major event. I'm piddling around the kitchen, wiping down counters, which somehow turns into a refrigerator clean out. Halfway through the dishwasher cycle, a toxic smell starts emanating from within. I open the door, yep, there is a gush of water that runs out. After all the dishwasher WAS running before I opened it. Stop, clean up water on the floor. Reopen door, with a little more care this time. Find that someone had accidentally put a throw away fork in the dishwasher, where it managed to work its way out of the utensil holder and down onto the heating element. However it managed to do it, it did. About 35-45 minutes to clean the inside of the dishwasher, and all the moving parts that ended up with bitty pieces of melted plastic on them.
When I finally closed the washer door for the final time, I looked down at the floor and realized how incredible the floor looked where I had just mopped up water, compared to the rest of the floor that just looked blah - at best. Another two and a half hours later, the floor in the kitchen, breakfast room, hallway, guest bath and foyer were all sparkling.
The dogs were clamoring to go out. Without a second thought on the matter, (dumb a$$, dumb a$$, dumb a$$) I let them out. I then headed to the laundry room. How does that poem go? "For Whom the Bell Tolls", ummm, yeah, right... completely out of context. There WAS a bell tolling, however, it was just the dryer bell telling me the towels were dry and fluffy. After folding an extra large load of towels. Switching from washer to dryer and reloading the washer, I was in and out of the laundry room in a mere 20 minutes.
That's when I heard the dogs at the back door requesting readmission. I wish my eyes would have communicated to my brain a second and a half before my brain had my arm opening the door for those mangey mongrels. (They're actually pedigreed but at this point I could care less - they were lucky to be breathing!) What should have been communicated quicker was STOP, the sprinkler had come on when they were outside playing and they turned it into a wet water find dirt game. And they BOTH won. In they ran. On my beautiful freshly washed floors. All of them! They slipped, they slid, they skidded. It was a doggie fest. I finally got them corralled in their kennel and ran to the laundry room where I grabbed the closest things I could find to clean up their wet gooey muddy mess, my freshly washed and fluffed towels.
Figure another three hours to wash, dry, and comb out: one still living and breathing Chesapeake Bay Retriever and one still living and breathing German Shepherd (Yes, I quantified that description. I don't want to hear any negative feedback from PETA people questioning.....) Another 30 minutes to wash down and defur the bathroom shower I used to shampoo those hairballs. Throw in another hour to rewash the entire first floor. Yes, it took me two and 1/2 hours the first time but really, by now I really didn't give a damn. The big chucks were gone. If there was some smearing, squint and don't look close!
Forget about lunch of any kind. School had already let out. My entire day was a complete waste of time. I had nothing to show for it. Now there was no time to prepare dinner for my herd. Plus, I still had to get ready for bunco. (My earlier shower, hair and makeup session was but a distant memory by now.) I was creatureisq. There's truly no better description that comes to mind.
Back in the shower I go, forget about conditioner this time. I'm lucky to get all the dog hair and mud off me in one sudsy maneuver. Well, so much for preplanning. I have enough time to either put on make and do my hair or run by the grocery and pick up dessert for my herd (yep, I'm feeling guilty for calling hubby and having him pick up something for dinner on the way home). My Bunco Babes are used to seeing me in a ball cap, yoga pants, and tee shirt. Why should today be any different.
In I walked to bunco, fifteen minutes late, starving, and ready for a very, very cold margarita or three...... I'm not sure if it was my imagination or did one of the bunco babes murmur - really, Baker's at home all day, you'd think she'd take a little time to make herself more presentable..... I decided to let my imagination take that one. Grandmother always taught me a young/old lady never throws a punch.
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