A Musing Mother 6

I reconnected with an old friend from Facebook. He'd recently seen "Fiddler on the Roof" and remembered fondly the year I was in the high school play and played a character named Brusilla. Earlier this week, another old friend registered his son at the school where I work as a counselor. He announced to the office staff that I cried at our five year class reunion because he was drinking a beer. I invited my parents to a graduation a few years ago so they could see what a marvelous school I work for and be impressed by the quality of students we graduate. My dad still rants and raves about the articulate and stirring commencement address I gave that year. The aforementioned sentences all have one thing in common. I didn't do any of this stuff. I've been in a couple of Road Shows but never with much, if any, speaking parts. I'll sing, dance, swing from the rafters for a show, but I'd never take a role in which I had much, if anything, to say. I am very aw

Ready to tackle some paperwork, I sat on a stool at the counter when the telephone rang. Glancing at the clock, I realized it was a few minutes after the 14 year old normally walks through the door after school. She'd missed her carpool, obviously. I readied my "Mom" voice and answered with a tinge of irritation. I was going to tell her to start walking. There are consequences, you know. "Hello." Polite but clearly not happy about having to go to the school on a day I'm not scheduled. "Hi," she said brightly, "Did you forget something?" Long pause while the question sank in. Ah, crap. I had carpool.

This is Gina. She's Irish but she lives in Australia. She juggles her three children, one husband, and nursing job with humor (or humour, if you're from Australia) and sunshine. She also tends to have a knack for cooking/baking along with her penchant for taking fantastic photos (or fotos, if you're from Australia and can't spell, which she can). Recently Gina had an all day excursion to meet a friend (bloke) from Ireland. A female friend (Sheila bloke, if you're from Ireland but living in Australia). Peripherally, she discussed chicken coconut cream curry. It sounded divine. I asked her for the recipe. Get out those pencils and papers, girls, Gina is sharing a secret of her many talents. Ready? Gina and I speak the same language. *For more Gina - http://thebaynhamfamily.blogspot.com/

I wonder what they are thinking about. My guess - Little boy - I love this. Dad feels so warm. I like hiking but I sure get tired. Squirrel! Dad - I want a truck.

"Mom, can I have that nut?" "We don't eat those, sweetie." "But can I have it if I don't eat it?" "Why do you want it?" "So I can keep it and name it Bob."

A conversation between my 4 year old boy and my mother: Grandma, why do you have those cracks on your face? What cracks? These cracks right here (he traces one with his finger). Those are called wrinkles. Do they hurt? No, they don't hurt. *********************************** I made an attempt at organizing my photos. I never really know what to do with them these days. Do I make them into prints? Do I make a CD with all of them? What will I do with a CD? Where can I store all of the albums? The pictures evoked so many emotions from years past. The wonder and sheer exhaustion of new motherhood, the excitement of moving, the warm breeze at a park, the comfort of familiar. I also found that I could spot the times of my life when I was under extra stress. I have a tendency to stop eating when I'm anxious. From the pictures, I surmised that I must have had about ten really good years. Besides the weight loss, my face looks different. I found a picture of myself and my daught

It started on Thursday night with my 12 year old daughter. She threw up all over her bed. I quickly punched my hands into the roll dough (I suddenly needed rolls), pulled out my sticky fists and looked helplessly busy to my husband. He grunted and cleaned it up. During the next 3 hours, she threw up 14 times. She had a bucket after the first time. Monday morning I felt a little out of sorts. I took a day off and spent most of it in the bathroom. Without revealing too much, I sat a lot. That evening I tried very hard to rest. Picture me resting with a 4 year old on the bed. "Mom, are you sick? Did you stop having birthdays? How much is cold? When Caleb comes over am I going to sleep on the floor or will I get to jump on the furniture and can Caleb play Legos with me all the time and eat corndogs but I'll hold Ginger so Caleb won't hurt her and she won't be scared and what is this?. . . " The monologue continued as the 9 year old boy climbed up on the bed and

I wish someone would have stopped me from going out in public.

Heidi and I have been friends since college. We tell each other things we don't tell anybody else. We know each others quirks, fears, and preferences. We're best friends. For her birthday this year we hit Red Lobster. It's one of our favorite haunts for birthdays. This year we decided to celebrate the first year we are willing to admit that we look our age. The hostess seated us and handed us the menu. It's the same drill every time. We look it over and order the same thing; lobster and crab. Heidi ordered first. "What do I usually order?" she asked me. "Ultimate feast with fries," I replied. "Do I order the Caesar salad or house?" "Caesar." Then I turned to the server, "She'll also have a Diet Coke with a twist of lemon. And bring extra napkins. She mangles them." My turn. "What kind of salad do I order?" "Caesar and I eat your croutons." "Caesar without croutons," our server

Erin and I share some commonalities. We have the same birthday. We are both hilariously funny and beautiful. Our first husbands are both named Scott. Neither of us like her first husband. We have both had incredibly strange experiences in our dating years. But my stories always topped hers. I was single longer and I was a creep-magnet. I'm not proud of it but I'll take ownership. In her late twenties, Erin re-entered the dating world but with two small children in tow. Besides the initial few months, Erin lacked the creep-magnetism and settled into dating some pretty high quality guys. But in those initial few months, she managed to top my strangest dating story which is no small feat. Erin's new single friends tried to ease her in slowly. They took her to a dance joint where she met a guy that seemed pretty decent. He was also in his late 20s, divorced, and had small children. They met often at the dance place. They hung out. He met her children at her place. She

The summer I was 20, my mother took my 12 year old sister and I on the road to see her sister in British Columbia, Canada. My aunt was married to a has-been football star who was a sports commentator at a local radio station. They had two children who were roughly my age. I hadn't seen them since I was very young so it was a good opportunity to reacquaint myself with them. Everybody liked Uncle Tom. He's the kind of dad that everybody wishes they had. When I say "everybody," I exclude my mother and grandmother who couldn't stand him. There were reasons, I have later discovered, but at the time, he had the house to have a party. My cousin, Bobby, had planned a party for Sunday. He invited me multiple times so I was sure I'd be going. On that Sunday, my mom, sister and I got up, dressed, and left the house to find a Mormon church for services. I noticed that there were already a scant handful of young adults lounging by the pool. Uncle Tom had set out

Once a week I exchange my usual uniform - t-shirt and jeans/khakis - for t-shirt, jeans/khakis with an extra large tan shirt emblazoned with "Boy Scouts of America" in red thread. I wear it well. Last den meeting, another leader had planned to do a physical fitness component but got a little green around the gills. In order to pass this requirement, the boys were to perform a bunch of specific stretches before engaging in combat activities. I grabbed Liz's manual and looked at the stretches. I had all the boys line up in front of me and demonstrated each stretch. They looked at me with concentration and followed me exactly. Just for fun, I tried the "warrior" yoga pose. They followed me. Could they do ballet? I put my feet and hands in second position. I went through plié, relevé, grand plié. Each boy followed me without question. I pushed it a little further with rond de jambe , tendu , and finally demi-plién transitioning into glissade . I stopped myself

I have a love/hate relationship with the internet. This media mode has trickled into every aspect of my life. I want to pay bills,I go to the computer. I want to know the weather for next Tuesday, I check the computer. I want to look at skirts at Dillards, I check the computer. I want to find out the definition of ubiquitous simply because the sound of the word as it rolls off my tongue is complicated yet fascinating, I'm back on the computer. But that's what the internet is, you see. Ubiquitous. I can open a window and find a recipe, carry this little netbook into the kitchen, start cooking and I'm opening other windows to shop for shoes or skirts while sautéing mushrooms. This completely changes the definition of multitasking. Think about it. Back in the day, multitasking meant taking a copy of the Reader's Digest with you to the bathroom. I hold Google personally responsible for my attention deficit disorder. I demand instant gratification. If the words don&#

My laundry basket died on Saturday. Without a ceremony, I bid it farewell by jamming it as far as I could into the already overflowing garbage container in the open garage. I was greeted by an overfed black lab and four children. Let me clarify: Our lab, Sunday, is skinny and yellow and none of the children in the garage belonged to me. Upon further investigation, it was discovered that this black dog, who was now eating our dog's food from the bag, was lost. The children had magnanimously adopted him and named him "Saturday." Cute. I still chased them all out of the garage and went back into the house. Thirty minutes later, "Saturday" still hadn't gone home, and he had been joined by three more children that DID belong to me. "Stop giving him dog food," I advised, "And get him off that leash." By 6:00, all children had returned home but the new dog had taken up residence on our lawn. Scott and I had a date. We left instructions tha