Cowboy Cutie

Did a Western-themed Spirit Night at Texas Roadhouse last night for Jacob's school and this was my date for the evening. I must say he looks mighty cute as a cowboy!

One Foot In Front of the Other

Life change is hard. Period.

That fact was making its presence known at 5:45 this morning as I struggled to get out of bed to do my morning walk. As I lay there compiling all the reasons I did not need to go, my phone buzzed and my accountability partner in Nashville had issued a FitBit challenge for the day.

Crap.

So, I toss the excuses to the side and peel myself off the mattress and walk, ever so begrudgingly, to the closet to change. With shoes laced up and earbuds in, I took my first steps down the driveway into the darkness. The air felt like October should-- crisp and clean and inviting-- and the sky was a palette of deep blue with a smattering of stars waiting to greet me. I knew this was a good decision.

Often when my mind is amuck (which is all of the time of late) losing myself in music is a welcome distraction. This also proves to be a helpful remedy when I'd rather be snug under the covers (one foot out for good measure, of course) than pounding the pavement in the name of health.

As I made the final stretch back to the house I glanced at my FitBit and it read 3,175 steps rather than the 40 or so with which I started. I gave myself a mental pat on the back and decided that starting off my day with a sky full of stars and my favorite songs isn't so terrible after all. All it took was a little willpower and putting one foot in front of the other.

We'll see if I am this motivated when that alarm sounds tomorrow morning.... :)

One more for today...

I love the harmony of their voices.... a great mash-up of some of my favorites.

Lay Me Down

I'm in a music mood. This song soothes me with its raw emotion.

Also, how the orchestra is situated and the way the graphics billow up behind him... this video is close to perfection. As is the song.

I Won't Let Go

Love this.

Pure Love

On the floor of the animal hospital today. She's back home now and resting. Feeling a little better.

My Sweet Girl

Taking my Cassie girl to the animal hospital.  She's been sick for a couple days and I'm pretty worried about her. As much as my heart is breaking with worry, my son Jacob is sick with concern.  Cassie is lethargic with no appetite so she's definitely not herself.

Praying she'll be ok...

Pardon Me? I Don't Speak Idiot.

In the interest of full disclosure, there are some, well, physiological reasons that I might be a little on EDGE today. But, even if I am not in the perkiest state of mind, I should be able to expect even the most basic form of COMMON SENSE when dealing with others.

I took the boys to lunch today at a local deli. Their soup of the day was potato which is Daniel's favorite. And there, atop the cash register, sat two sizes: Regular and Large (two cups of slighty differing capacities.)

So I ordered:  "I'd like a regular potato soup, an order of nachos, and a large drink. Thanks."

"We're out of the regular soup," the rocket scientist behind the register informed me.

"So, do you have any other soups?" I inquire.

"Oh,we have the potato soup. We just don't have it in regular."

What about unleaded? I'm so confused. The room is starting to spin a little.

I take it a little further. "So, you have the potato soup but I can only buy a large portion?"

"Yes," she replied.

"Is that because you ran out of regular-sized cups?"  This is beginning to entertain me.

"Yes."

My left eye is now twitching.

"Well, do you THINK that we might be able to buy a regular-sized amount of soup but you just use the larger container so that I won't have to buy $5.50 worth of soup that he won't finish?"

"Fine."  SHE is now annoyed with ME.

But it gets better.

She rings up my order and, as she is scanning my credit card, there is a coupon for today's special laying at the counter. FREE NACHOS with purchase of a large drink. (A $3.00 savings).

"Ma'am. Um, if today's special is a free nacho with a large drink and I just bought an order of nachos and large drink, wouldn't my nachos be free?"

She looks at me as if I just landed on the counter in a spaceship. 

"Well, it would but I just charged your card."

"Yes, I SEE that but could you not undo that considering I bought those two things and it's today's special and the nachos should be free?"

"My manager is not here."

At that point, I seriously looked around for a camera crew thinking I was on an episode of Punkd or What Would You Do?

You know, there are times in life when it's just not worth the fight. When the difference between fighting for what is right and curling up in the fetal position underneath the first booth on the left is nothing but a fine little line. There are times when stupid is simply stupid (Yes, Jacob I said the S-word) and you just decide to go on with life.

I'll just consider that $3.00 a small price to pay for a ringside seat at Are You Smarter than a Gnat?

Sigh. Pass the Midol, please.

Building More Than Pirate Ships

I had found my solution to the doldrums--curling up on my bed on a Sunday afternoon and losing myself in my favorite Netflix show. The boys were content watching TV (so I thought) and, as my I slowly drifted off into my own little world, my door opened and there stood my wide-eyed seven-year old child.

"Will you play Legos with me, Mama?"

Nooooooooooo my inside self screamed from a deep, selfish place.

"Um, do you mind if Mama finishes her show and then we'll play?"

"OK, Mommy."

Guilt. That sweet little voice. They're only young once. Trace Adkin's voice blaring from the radio in my head, "You're gonna miss this....you're gonna want this back..."

Oh for Pete's sake I think to myself as I begrudgingly peel myself off the bed and walk upstairs. The show can always wait, I guess.

"Lego time!," I announce in my best faux-enthusiastic voice as I reached the entrance to his bedroom.

Just the look of excitement on his face was enough to make me want to crawl under a rock for being so self-absorbed just a few minutes before.

"Yay! OK, here is the plane I've been working on and I really need some help making it look nice. OK, Mommy? OK?"

That sweet little voice.

I stretched out on my tummy as he poured the box of Legos out in front of me--a cascade of colorful squares, Lego-man body parts and the occasional miniature Lego weapon.

That's when it began. All of the thoughts of what I was "missing out" on by giving up my "me" time dissipated as I carefully constructed gun turrets, outfitted my pilot with the latest in Lego head gear and debated whether or not the sides of my plane were even. I was having a ball.

Pretty soon, my thirteen-year old came in, plopped down and said "You can go if you want to. I'll help him. I'm sure you're not having that much fun." With a sly smile I replied, "There's no place I'd rather be." And that statement couldn't have been truer.

I mean, I'm sure the lead characters of my Netflix drama are somewhere tapping their foot waiting on me to return. But they can wait. Because this afternoon the "me" time I thought I so desperately needed was actually me, my boys and a mixed-up, scattered pile of little colorful pieces of plastic.

And you know what? I couldn't have been happier.

My building partner

Will he do it? We Emmett run down these innocent people just lying there minding their own business???

My version of a forklift driver :)

Don't mess with the one-armed Lego lady! She's one tough cookie!

The captain of our plane, pirate ship-thingy.

The full-sized view of our ever-so-impressive construction.

And, perhaps my favorite pic of all... two brothers playing quietly in the soft sunlight of a Sunday afternoon. Pretty soon, the six years age difference between them will be a chasm. But, for now, Legos unite them and it's a sweet memory indeed.

At what point will this dork learn to slather on the sunscreen?! Lobster city.

Absolutely Beautiful

Sleeping with the Fishes

I thought it was such a safe choice. What did I know?

As we strolled through the Halloween carnival last October, my animal-loving 6-year old spotted the neatly-lined rows of fishbowls containing goldfish and he lost his heart forever. He paid the man at the booth a crisp one dollar bill and proceeded to chunk ping pong balls at the orchard of shiny bowls only to come up empty handed with each toss. So, being the oh-so-gullable Mom that I am, I found myself perusing the aisles of PetsMart the next day helping Jacob find the perfect aquatic pet.

Little did I know at the time how involved and complicated fish ownership can be. Do we want a goldfish or a betta? Then there are the tanks and filters and the food and the chemicals and the rocks and the plants not to mention the education on water temperature, tank size, feeding schedules, pH balances and so on. What I had assumed would be a quick trip to the pet store quickly turned into a crash course/ Masters degree in Aquatic Chemical Engineering. What had I gotten myself into?

Having selected the red and blue betta fish and a tank where we could keep them separated and unable to eat each other (huh?!), we headed home with the new additions to our family-- Spike and Henry. Spike lived up to his name with his feisty swim patterns and bold electric blue color. Henry, on the other hand, was a much more docile fish with a deep red color and a reserved demeanor. Jacob instantly fell in love with his new "fishies" and, surprisingly, kept up with his every other day feeling schedule and took great delight in his new responsibility.

Then things started going downhill for poor little Henry. Somehow, Spike made it through a small gap where the rocks and the tank divider met and he tried his best to take out Henry. He successfully chomped part of Henry's left fin leaving him to list on one side most of the time. Valiantly, Henry still ate and swam around but it was clear his war wounds left a deep psychological scar. (You can't be too dramatic when it comes to the mental wounds caused by your brother trying to eat you.)

That's when we began Death Watch 2015. Poor Henry. That was one month ago. This morning, Jacob awakes me to tell me that Henry is face down in the rocks and looks like he's sleeping. (Oh no. Here we go. The DEATH conversation is here.) I go upstairs to find Henry indeed nose-down in the rock but breathing. "Look, Mommy, his little cheeks are puffing in and out. He's breathing." GREAT. Just great. What am I supposed to do now? I can't go all Finding Nemo on the thing if he's alive. Flushing him into the unknown while he's alive would haunt me forever and my child would think me a monster. So, what's a girl to do? The Manual on Dead Fish Protocol clearly states:

1) Fish is toast if he's floating at the top of the water.

2) Scoop and flush.

3) Alternate: place his tiny little dead fishy body into a matchbox and bury him with a little ceremony that honors his contributions to the family and how he was such a special little fishy, blah blah blah.(Personally, I think option 2 is much better)

But, NOWHERE does the manual say anything about a fish trying to off himself by sticking his little fish face down in some rocks. WHY ME? Why can't I just flush the sucker, sing the theme song from Free Willy 2 and be done? 

Oh well, the Death Watch continues......