Archives for July 2006

Despite having told us several months ago that they were considering moving out of state, my in-laws are still here. Still in Michigan, and we haven’t heard any more of their plans to sell everything they own and move out west (if you live in Nevada or Arizona, watch out – they claim to be coming YOUR way!). I am beginning to think it was a cruel joke they were playing to get us excited – and soon they are going to say to us, “Ha ha, you believed that? What a buncha chumps you guys are!”

Yeah, so they’re still here.

Never mind that about a month or so ago, they insisted that they had to start getting rid of stuff, and insisted that Hubby needed to come over to go through their record collection to see if there was anything he wanted. WE DON’T EVEN HAVE A RECORD PLAYER. But, we now have “Like a Virgin”. On vinyl. Whoopee. (Why Hubby picked this, I have no idea – we also have some “Polka Party” record that he swears he picked up for my family — yes, they’re Polish – but… I think the record is still sitting in our basement).

So, they haven’t left yet.

And they called last night.

Of course, they weren’t calling to ask for Hubby’s help loading the UHaul. No. They wanted him to help them shingle their roof two weeks from now. Um… what?! Hubby was pretty up front that he had never shingled before, but they don’t much seem to care. Hubby can do a lot of things – he can add huge sums in his head, he knows random tax facts – all those great accountant-y things. Shingle a roof, though? You’ve gotta be kidding me. Maybe it’s just my anti-DIY side coming out, but… that’s your roof! You don’t just let any schmoe work on your roof. Seems like you would want it done professionally, seeing as how it snows several months a year here. What do I know, right?

Being a good son, though, he agreed to help out, so two weeks from now, he’ll be perched on a roof with his parents and his brother (who we haven’t spoken more than ten words to in the six years since he told us he wasn’t coming to our wedding), and several of his brother’s friends. I can’t imagine this is going to go well. Even if Hubby manages to not fall (or get pushed) off the roof, it’s gonna be an “interesting” time up on the roof.

Today, The Princess received an unvitation to her friend (and our neighbor) J’s birthday shindig that would take place this afternoon. Yes, at 10:30 a.m., J’s mom came over to tell me there would be a gathering at one this afternoon. Turns out to be not quite the “nonvite” I thought it was, as J’s family had been out of town, and basically was trying to get kids together to get rid of leftover cake and ice cream from their family event last night. This was actually a good thing, because last night, when The Princess heard J’s family singing to her (The Princess has bionic hearing – she was on the swingset – J and her family were in their house which, though not far, isn’t exactly right there) she came in the house crying to Hubby that J hadn’t invited her to the birthday party, begging for Hubby to please let her go over for the “party”. So, it was somewhat of a relief to have The Princess invited today.

Anyway, short story long, we ended up hustling to Walmart where every white trash toothless biker-short wearing winner in town was apparently gathering for a leisurely stroll through the store. We were on a tight timeframe – had to get there, purchase a gift, and get home within 45 minutes (which sounds easy enough – ten minutes each way leaves 25 minutes in the store – shoulda been a cakewalk… but it wasn’t). The Princess picked out a Barbie Mermaidia, which J ended up adoring (but not letting anyone else play with).

Upon dropping off The Princess and seeing J’s joy with the gift, I pulled The Princess aside and told her that it was J’s “special day” and her new gift – and letting her know J probably wouldn’t want to share it today because it was brand new, and that she would have to find other things to play with. You know, reasoning with a four year old is fine and dandy in concept, but when I picked up The Princess a few hours later, she was crying about not getting to play with that stupid Barbie. (It’s like I’m psychic, isn’t it?).

I have a feeling I’m going to have a really hard time as The Princess gets older. More and more I find my heart breaking when her feelings get hurt, or if it even appears she’s been slighted by a friend (no matter how innocent or unintentional). As a mom, all I want is for my kids to be happy, and when she’s hurting, it hurts me too. With two daughters, I get this all times two. I guess the three of us will have to grow up in this together.

In 103 days, I’ll be 30.

To some, the prospect of hitting the big 3-0 is some scary, petrifying thing, but to me, well, I’m not scared of it. I have a friend who has been 24 for about seven years now, and every year she tells me, “Oh, I’m 24 again!” I chuckle because really, what’s the big deal about 30?

Despite the fact that I’m starting to get lines near my eyes, and those creases near my nose and mouth (smile lines?), I still feel young. I still refer to myself and friends as “girls” even though most of us have children of our own now, own our own homes, and let’s face it, passed the “girl” stage many moons ago.

But I don’t care, because age is a state of mind.

What does happen lately, when I think of turning 30, is that I get nostalgic for the “old days” (see, I must be getting old, using phrases like “the old days”). My sister is 19, and when I watch her living her life – carefree, social, and all that jazz – it makes me remember when I was her age, and you know, that was TEN YEARS AGO. The stuff she’s doing these days, the life she’s living? Not altogether unlike where I was a decade ago. I was having a fun time when I was her age (ack! “When I was her age”!? That’s another hallmark, getting-old saying!).

High school wasn’t particularly fun, but I loved going away to college, making new friends, meeting new people. I have several great friends I keep in touch with from my high school days, but I think once I left for college, I really got to figure out who I was, what I wanted to do with my life, and I met some wonderful people along the way that are some of my most cherished friends. Back then, 30 seemed eons away. It seemed old.

When I was 19, summers meant no classes. Summers meant spending weekends at the beach. Summers meant a break from the monotony of day to day life. Older now, summers (apart from the weather) aren’t really any different to me in my life than winter, fall or spring. Between work and kids – summer has seemed to lose its magic and that’s sort of sad. Days blur together, and months whiz by. Is it because I’m getting older?

Life is full of change and transition – from high school to college, from college to real world, from real world to real-world-with-husband — and from there, married with children and work. Life moves pretty fast, and it’s hard to embrace all of these moments, feels like there is no time, but I don’t know that I would do it any other way. Here, staring in the face of 30 (just 103 more days), I wouldn’t change a thing – I’m definitely living the life I was meant to.

The Princess’s favorite color is pink. If you’ve seen Steel Magnolias, you might even say that pink is her “signature color”. I just cleaned out her closet and being the obnoxiously weird mother that I am, her closet is organized by color. And the pink section? It takes up HALF HER CLOSET! The girl loves pink. And someday, we’ll be like Shelby and M’lynn having the conversation about her wedding colors where she’ll say her colors are “Blush and bashful” and I’ll say they’re “pink and pink”, and she’ll insist that no, mama, they’re blush and bashful and I’ll make some comment about the sanctuary being hosed down with Pepto Bismol.

Or she’ll stop liking pink.