yesterday was round two at the dentist.
i don’t know why exactly, but the oral sedative completely knocked me out this time.
i took it early and found myself unable to walk a straight line at home before i even left.
i don’t remember the hubby dropping me off, just snippets.
i remember thinking the wheel chair ride out to the car was the way to travel at all times.
i ate a hamburger but don’t remember tasting it, finishing it, or throwing anything away.
the hubby registered the car while i was in it.
i was like a little fluffy cloud lookin’ for a place to land.
some congratulations are in order:
1) keats finished 7th/8th/and 9th grade on honor roll all three years.
2) while receiving her award for making people laugh, queen stopped long enough on her trek up to collect her bootie to rub the head of a bald father in the front row, pat it, smile at him and continue on her way. the next time up, she had a nerf ball under her shirt.
3)bear, for heading to academic class next year instead of behavioral!!!
4)chicka for throwing 72ft 5 inches in her softball throw last night.
5) bird finishing the year reading above grade level.
this message is brought to you by one proud mama and hubby.
i was in the shower yesterday morning thinking about a little poem i read on facebook by an old high school classmate of mine.
that made me think of high school.
then that made me think how fast time goes by.
then that made me think that i still don’t feel older and it is sometimes still surreal that i have a husband, house, and 5 kids.
then a knock on the door.
“mom, does this look ok?” child number 1 asked.
i peeked my head around the shower curtain and said yes.
“mom, how does this look?” child number 2 asked.
same peeking, same affirmative answer.
“mom, if i raise my hand this high my shirt does this.” child number 1 said while raising hand.
same peeking around shower curtain with suggestion of changing shirt.
“mom, what about these shoes?” child number 2 asked.
same peeking told her they were cute.
“mom, my shoes are sticky on the inside, what should i do?” child number 1 asked.
did not even bother peeking and told her i would clean them when i was done.
“how about i use some clorox wipes on them?” this clone of a child who keeps knocking on my shower door again.
i say clone, because no single child could actually revolve through a door that much.
by this time i was out of the shower when more knocks and requests to look at this, and see this, and what are we having for lunch that is when i made it to my bedroom.
child number 3 comes up the stairs.
“don’t go in mom is getting dressed.” child number 2 said who was already waiting outside my bedroom door.
“ok.” said child number 3 who sat next to child number 2 to wait.
“mom? are you almost done?” child number 1 asked, who was also sitting next to children 2 and 3.
later that day, thinking the kids were all relaxing in different parts of the house the hubby decided to give me some smooching.
that is until we heard a little “hi mommy” behind us.
nothing kills a make-out session like a ‘hi mommy.’
and that is when all surrealism stopped.
as you know we coach chicka’s team.
as you know i am still not sure why they do fast pitch for the 3/4th grades.
as you may not know, we somehow got lucky enough to have the best pitcher in the league on our team.
as you may not know, i am secretly VERY happy about this.
yes, that is the stitching of the softball you see in the bruise.
i have promised the girls on our team that i will purchase extra padding to ensure protection as it is hard to find anyone who will catch for our pitcher.
did i mention we also have the 2nd best pitcher in the league.
dear mr. basketball coach who beat up my girls with your hyper-competitive, badly coached girls last basketball season,
can’t wait to see you this softball season.
don’t worry gentle readers, i am not going crazy on you, all the girls will get a chance to pitch, we will only use our powers for good.
it helped chicka that her team won 12-0.
last night bear had his very first choir concert.
he is a proud member of the 8th grade boy’s choir.
last night i found myself very weepy watching him up on stage with his buddy (peer tutor) who has faithfully taken bear to choir every day.
at this school, bear and queen are greeted by name by so many kids.
queen got valentine-grams from kids at her school, i would find them in her backpack when she came home.
when i dropped bear off to sit with his choir, the boys greeted him excitedly and with fist-bumps and high-fives.
bear settled down amongst them with his hands clasped in happiness that only he does.
i am getting weepy just typing this remembering it.
you see, bear and queen are generally invisible to the public.
not out of unkindness, simply because the public generally does not know the correct reaction.
not at their school.
they are known, looked at in the eye and greeted.
and you know what?
bear and queen know it, recognize it, and respond to it.
so does this mother’s very grateful heart.
keats’ last band concert of his career was last night too.
as i watched him, i again got weepy.
he has 3 years left of school and decided his trumpet playing days have come to an end.
i realized today i have lived away from the home i grew up in longer than i lived there.
it goes too fast.
i have been so weepy since last night, i would buy a pregnancy test if i knew there was no possible way for me to be preggers.
why you ask?
i get emotional.
in fact, when i did not know i was preggers with queen, i went to my brother’s cross-country meet and cried every time someone crossed the finish line.
i cried a lot.
it was an invitational.
thankfully, chicka saved the day, she informed me that she would not be in the spelling bee as she was not the best speller.
“but,” she ended “i can eat faster than anyone and that is my talent. yep, food is my talent.”
mine too chicka-lita-rosarita-counna-be-sweeta, mine too.
i am asked at times what the hardest part is about raising a bear and queen.
most times nothing comes to mind.
last night it came to mind in a projectile force.
i noticed queen did not look like she was feeling well and sat by her bed until she pushed me out.
i had made it upstairs when i heard her bedroom door swing open and came down to check on her.
i met my hubby on the stairs coming up.
queen had spewed.
the thing with queen is that she still thinks the floor is the best place for vomit.
ours is white, not black, and using approximately 77 of the 78 clorox clean up wipes in the container, resolve carpet cleaner and baking soda, i realized that this was the hardest part of raising a queen.
she obviously had an upset stomach for a while from the stench.
she still ate dinner, tickled, went for bike ride, rickshaw ride and we made her take a bath,
all with an upset stomach.
i wish she could tell us that she is ill.
i wish she would want, just once, to have me snuggle her and make things better.
i wish my food scraper did not gross me out thinking of all the vomit it scraped off the carpet last night.
second thing i have an answer to: what toothpicks are really used for.
i walked into the kitchen to see chicka sitting on the floor cleaning her toe nails with toothpicks.
they are remarkably clean.
what makes the hubby a terrible driver:
“i have a confession.” the hubby told me while driving us home on the freeway.
“look on the concrete barriers and you should see some tire marks on them where i drove up onto it.”
i suddenly wished i was behind the wheel.
further confession went as follows:
” i was reading and talking on the phone at the same time through the construction zone when suddenly my two tires were up on the cement barrier going 50 mph.”
what could i say except wish again i was behind the wheel.
“i finally agree, i am a terrible driver.” he said.
then we turned down our street to see his car parked pointed toward our fence with the back-end in the road.
yes, my stomach and all its smooth skin has gone the way of the stretch-marked grave yard.
my sleep has been marred since 1995.
time to myself has not been had without guilt since, surprisingly enough, the same time my sleep began being marred…1995.
but this, this is the biggest sacrifice yet.
keats, through the lovely hubby and his work connections, got an almost brand new serta, firm, comfy, beautiful, queen size mattress.
and let’s be honest……
had i known it was so comfy, perfectly firm, and cushy, it would have gone straight up to my room and he would have gotten our 10 yr old mattress to rest his weary, non-sleep-deprived head on.
but alas, he snuggles in at nights stating “i will not be out of my room until the next millennium.”
yet, that is not what really made me feel the age and sacrifice of motherhood.
yesterday, as i was picking up queen and bear, i was sitting outside in the sun, in shorts, with both classrooms, teachers and aides visiting and laughing when i felt something tickling my leg.
let us just say, it kept him occupied with his new found etch-a-sketch and me thinking my youth is finally lost.