My mother in law's "to do" list for last weekend.
'nuff said.
Showing posts with label grandparents. Show all posts
Showing posts with label grandparents. Show all posts
Tuesday, June 18, 2013
Saturday, December 12, 2009
I Am NOT His Secretary
As we all know, the Gator is obsessed with the Toad. And she holds the belief that I do not love him. Please remember that the Toad will be 21 next month. Old enough to vote, buy cigarettes, be drafted, drive a vehicle, and drink himself into a stupor.
He is NOT, however, rich enough or important enough to have a secretary. Or an aide, or an assisant.
And, even if he were, he could not afford ME to be his secretary. I do not make appointments, take messages, keep track of him...and the Gator is now, officially, 28 days before the Toad is legally legal, being put on notice:
If you want to know his schedule, call HIM.
If you want to know where he is, where he plans to be, what he was doing, or whether he plans to show up for any given event or activity, call HIM.
Leave me the F* out the loop and talk to HIM directly. I am not his secretary.
He is NOT, however, rich enough or important enough to have a secretary. Or an aide, or an assisant.
And, even if he were, he could not afford ME to be his secretary. I do not make appointments, take messages, keep track of him...and the Gator is now, officially, 28 days before the Toad is legally legal, being put on notice:
If you want to know his schedule, call HIM.
If you want to know where he is, where he plans to be, what he was doing, or whether he plans to show up for any given event or activity, call HIM.
Leave me the F* out the loop and talk to HIM directly. I am not his secretary.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Lost & Found
One of the cordless handsets for my phone has been missing for two days.
Have I told you about the Howler's funny little habit of calling people who are programmed into the phone book?
Well, we're looking for the handset. We hit the "locate handset" button four times (it bleeps and tweets for about 4 minutes, unless you find it and hit the connect button) and stuff the one we can find under a pillow. We get nothin'. Can't find it.
We're actually each taking a floor (yes, Toad is helping, believe-it-or-not) and the Howler is sitting in the recliner, watching the show.
After the 4th time we hit the "locate" button, she says, "I have an idea!" and runs upstairs.
Here she comes, telling us, "I think the battery is dead." Yes, ma'am, the battery is dead.
Later this evening (as in right this minute) My Sweetie is talking to his mom, and she apparently has been getting PLENTY of calls from her precious granddaughter...even at 10pm when the Howler is supposed to be asleep--and her parents think she's asleep.
I had left the phone in her room, so she quietly got up and called her Grandma.
I thank God every day for the "call anywhere in the continental US for one low monthly rate" plan that Verizon has.
Have I told you about the Howler's funny little habit of calling people who are programmed into the phone book?
Well, we're looking for the handset. We hit the "locate handset" button four times (it bleeps and tweets for about 4 minutes, unless you find it and hit the connect button) and stuff the one we can find under a pillow. We get nothin'. Can't find it.
We're actually each taking a floor (yes, Toad is helping, believe-it-or-not) and the Howler is sitting in the recliner, watching the show.
After the 4th time we hit the "locate" button, she says, "I have an idea!" and runs upstairs.
Here she comes, telling us, "I think the battery is dead." Yes, ma'am, the battery is dead.
Later this evening (as in right this minute) My Sweetie is talking to his mom, and she apparently has been getting PLENTY of calls from her precious granddaughter...even at 10pm when the Howler is supposed to be asleep--and her parents think she's asleep.
I had left the phone in her room, so she quietly got up and called her Grandma.
I thank God every day for the "call anywhere in the continental US for one low monthly rate" plan that Verizon has.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Two Weeks
The Howler is home from Grandma's.
Tuesday night, Grandma called because my Howler was beside herself in emotional agony. She wanted to "not have to stay two weeks."
Now, for the last month, whenever the Howler said, "Two Weeks," her grumpy parental units said, "OK." That's all we said--OK--and she was the one repeating "Two weeks." Even as the car drove away, she's waving to us, saying, "See you in TWO WEEKS!"
So, last Tuesday night, she calls. She refused to speak to the horrid thing that is her mother--you know, the mean thing that would MAKE her stay TWO WEEKS OR LONGER. She cries to her soft-hearted, loving parent, Daaaaaadddddddddddeeeeeeeeee, and he tells her, "No, baby girl, you don't have to stay two weeks. I can't come get you until Saturday, though."
Apparently her response was that she didn't want to leave until Saturday, as long as she didn't HAVE TO stay TWO WEEKS.
She refused to speak to her horrid, make-her-stay-two-weeks-no-matter-what mother--the woman who spawned her, defends her against obnoxious opk, loves her unconditionally, the woman who NEVER uttered the words STAY TWO WEEKS--until Wednesday night.
But she's home--and she was happy to see me, too.
Tuesday night, Grandma called because my Howler was beside herself in emotional agony. She wanted to "not have to stay two weeks."
Now, for the last month, whenever the Howler said, "Two Weeks," her grumpy parental units said, "OK." That's all we said--OK--and she was the one repeating "Two weeks." Even as the car drove away, she's waving to us, saying, "See you in TWO WEEKS!"
So, last Tuesday night, she calls. She refused to speak to the horrid thing that is her mother--you know, the mean thing that would MAKE her stay TWO WEEKS OR LONGER. She cries to her soft-hearted, loving parent, Daaaaaadddddddddddeeeeeeeeee, and he tells her, "No, baby girl, you don't have to stay two weeks. I can't come get you until Saturday, though."
Apparently her response was that she didn't want to leave until Saturday, as long as she didn't HAVE TO stay TWO WEEKS.
She refused to speak to her horrid, make-her-stay-two-weeks-no-matter-what mother--the woman who spawned her, defends her against obnoxious opk, loves her unconditionally, the woman who NEVER uttered the words STAY TWO WEEKS--until Wednesday night.
But she's home--and she was happy to see me, too.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
She Said What?!
So, a nice visit with the fam. Or rather, with Sweetie's fam.
My mother in law was in the chicken enclosure breaking up a fight (cock fightin' is still illegal in their neck o' de woods.)
The Howler watches Grandma whack both roosters with a broom handle, then walks up to the gazebo, where Grandpa is sitting by the fire, watching a rousing game of Ladderball.
Grandpa asks, "So where's she at?"
And the Howler responds, "She's beatin the hell outta the chickens."
Luckily, Grandpa is deaf as a doornail.
My mother in law was in the chicken enclosure breaking up a fight (cock fightin' is still illegal in their neck o' de woods.)
The Howler watches Grandma whack both roosters with a broom handle, then walks up to the gazebo, where Grandpa is sitting by the fire, watching a rousing game of Ladderball.
Grandpa asks, "So where's she at?"
And the Howler responds, "She's beatin the hell outta the chickens."
Luckily, Grandpa is deaf as a doornail.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Oops! I Did It Again
The Howler left today for Grandma & Grandpa's. We met them slightly better than 1/2 way, as they were at a retreat over the weekend. (Remarkably enough, I've been at that castle in 1996. Didn't realize it until we'd actually gotten there.)
Anyway, she was happily going. Of course, with a double draw of Vacation Bible School and Tommy Too, what's not to love? And she'll only be there four days until we arrive.
To celebrate Grandpa's 80th birthday, there's a party. And of course, she's gotta be in on that action. It's probably not going to be what she expected, though.
She should sleep well tonight, as she was swimming at the neighbors from 10am until just-after-9pm. She came home several times throughout the day, and stayed just long enough to whine about something (not sure what as we quit listening as soon as the whine-tone starts!)
So, in four days, I'm off....but in the meantime, I get to torture a Toad. The Howler is not home (and therefore won't be traumatized by his screams for mercy.) Guess why? Here's a hint: instead of it costing us boo-coo bucks for cable, he's surfing it for free--with the potential to gum up the new computer.
OoOOOOooooOOOOOOooo. I can't wait to burn him with this.
Anyway, she was happily going. Of course, with a double draw of Vacation Bible School and Tommy Too, what's not to love? And she'll only be there four days until we arrive.
To celebrate Grandpa's 80th birthday, there's a party. And of course, she's gotta be in on that action. It's probably not going to be what she expected, though.
She should sleep well tonight, as she was swimming at the neighbors from 10am until just-after-9pm. She came home several times throughout the day, and stayed just long enough to whine about something (not sure what as we quit listening as soon as the whine-tone starts!)
So, in four days, I'm off....but in the meantime, I get to torture a Toad. The Howler is not home (and therefore won't be traumatized by his screams for mercy.) Guess why? Here's a hint: instead of it costing us boo-coo bucks for cable, he's surfing it for free--with the potential to gum up the new computer.
OoOOOOooooOOOOOOooo. I can't wait to burn him with this.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Home
This month, Scribbit's Write Away contest is about "Going Home"
The problem I have with "going" home is that I'm already there--I live in the house I grew up in. It's changed some, mostly in paint colors and the patio in the back, but it's still effectively where I grew up, and when I sit on the front porch with my Sweetie, I feel like I've become my parents.
This house is also full of tiny little crevices of memory--memories mostly of Dad, since he's been gone 19 years this month. Every so often, we clean out a cupboard or a drawer or even the entire garage and find things my dad left there. Things from my childhood, things that cause him to just fill my brain...and my eyes with tears.
Mostly, though, I'm struck with the not-so-Disneyesque circle of life. My son was 3 months old when my dad died, yet, he looks so very much like my father that he's recognized by people who, for all intents and purposes, have never slapped eyes on him. He's usually dumb-struck over this, disbelieving in their eyesight, I imagine.
I can remember when the Toad was about 2 years old, in bib overalls, toddling about the yard, and I sat on my porch steps and cried because, even then, I knew what my grandmother had seen in her son (my father) as he toddled about her yard, all those years before.
It's a powerful thing to feel that connected to a woman who died when you were 6--someone who is hazy memory flashing behind your eyes like so many fireworks on a July weekend.
Then I see my daughter--the irrepressible Howler. She is all snap and fire and motion, and I know my father would laugh himself breathless to see her (and me with her.) I feel that, as truth, most often in the months we're outside. This hurricane of motion and feeling and noise would amuse him to no end.
I've read that smell is our strongest link to memory--and that we can remember the feelings associated with infancy if those memories are linked to a scent or an odor.
This is what I remember about my dad. How he smelled. How he smelled clean, and how he smelled after work. How his clothes smelled and how his hair smelled. The aftershave he used (Old Spice), after 19 years, will still send me reeling into a memory binge.
I remember being little--as young as the Howler is now, and cuddling up with him as he lay on the living room floor to watch TV (read: nap) after supper. I remember how, unless it was very warm and humid, he didn't mind me--except for my being "all elbows and bony knees" digging into him and stealing his rest. I suppose this is where and when those smells burrowed into my brain, waiting decades to resurface and bring me home.
Both my children, when clean, at the end of the day, smell like my dad. That particular showered-in-the-AM-but-been-up-and-alive-all-day smell. Not sweaty, or dirty, just a sweet, barely there smell that was just him. And they've both got it--some part of him that passed down through years and my DNA.
It's cliche to say, "you can never go home again" and in some ways this is true--even if you live in the same building or town where you grew up and first knew "home." It changes and you change until neither is recognizable to the other on a superficial level.
But sometimes, under that exterior, you find a crinkle of memory strong enough to allow you to see it and know it as it was. Sometimes you get moments where its as though childhood magic fills you again with belief and love for this world you grew up in. You experience it again and realize that "home" is where you are--as long as you can remember you.
The problem I have with "going" home is that I'm already there--I live in the house I grew up in. It's changed some, mostly in paint colors and the patio in the back, but it's still effectively where I grew up, and when I sit on the front porch with my Sweetie, I feel like I've become my parents.
This house is also full of tiny little crevices of memory--memories mostly of Dad, since he's been gone 19 years this month. Every so often, we clean out a cupboard or a drawer or even the entire garage and find things my dad left there. Things from my childhood, things that cause him to just fill my brain...and my eyes with tears.
Mostly, though, I'm struck with the not-so-Disneyesque circle of life. My son was 3 months old when my dad died, yet, he looks so very much like my father that he's recognized by people who, for all intents and purposes, have never slapped eyes on him. He's usually dumb-struck over this, disbelieving in their eyesight, I imagine.
I can remember when the Toad was about 2 years old, in bib overalls, toddling about the yard, and I sat on my porch steps and cried because, even then, I knew what my grandmother had seen in her son (my father) as he toddled about her yard, all those years before.
It's a powerful thing to feel that connected to a woman who died when you were 6--someone who is hazy memory flashing behind your eyes like so many fireworks on a July weekend.
Then I see my daughter--the irrepressible Howler. She is all snap and fire and motion, and I know my father would laugh himself breathless to see her (and me with her.) I feel that, as truth, most often in the months we're outside. This hurricane of motion and feeling and noise would amuse him to no end.
I've read that smell is our strongest link to memory--and that we can remember the feelings associated with infancy if those memories are linked to a scent or an odor.
This is what I remember about my dad. How he smelled. How he smelled clean, and how he smelled after work. How his clothes smelled and how his hair smelled. The aftershave he used (Old Spice), after 19 years, will still send me reeling into a memory binge.
I remember being little--as young as the Howler is now, and cuddling up with him as he lay on the living room floor to watch TV (read: nap) after supper. I remember how, unless it was very warm and humid, he didn't mind me--except for my being "all elbows and bony knees" digging into him and stealing his rest. I suppose this is where and when those smells burrowed into my brain, waiting decades to resurface and bring me home.
Both my children, when clean, at the end of the day, smell like my dad. That particular showered-in-the-AM-but-been-up-and-alive-all-day smell. Not sweaty, or dirty, just a sweet, barely there smell that was just him. And they've both got it--some part of him that passed down through years and my DNA.
It's cliche to say, "you can never go home again" and in some ways this is true--even if you live in the same building or town where you grew up and first knew "home." It changes and you change until neither is recognizable to the other on a superficial level.
But sometimes, under that exterior, you find a crinkle of memory strong enough to allow you to see it and know it as it was. Sometimes you get moments where its as though childhood magic fills you again with belief and love for this world you grew up in. You experience it again and realize that "home" is where you are--as long as you can remember you.
Thursday, August 2, 2007
My Name is NOT Mud
The Howler has been visiting her grandparents and aunts for a week now--7 full days.
Kevin has been very good about not calling her every night. When he has called, however, the Howler will ONLY talk to him. She has nothing to tell me, and does not wish to speak to me.
Last night, however, they called us.
And the Howler wanted to speak to "her Mother."
lol. It's a first. I'm so pleased that she finally acknowledges my existance! Although, to be honest, she was more worried about whether or not the cat missed her, she did ask to speak to me, and did not spend the entire time telling me that she "needs to tell Daddy sumping."
My name, after all, is NOT Mud, and she misses me (yes, ME) too.
Kevin has been very good about not calling her every night. When he has called, however, the Howler will ONLY talk to him. She has nothing to tell me, and does not wish to speak to me.
Last night, however, they called us.
And the Howler wanted to speak to "her Mother."
lol. It's a first. I'm so pleased that she finally acknowledges my existance! Although, to be honest, she was more worried about whether or not the cat missed her, she did ask to speak to me, and did not spend the entire time telling me that she "needs to tell Daddy sumping."
My name, after all, is NOT Mud, and she misses me (yes, ME) too.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
The Things Missed
My ILs usually miss all the big, fun, exciting things that happen in the Howler's life. They get to see video, or get phone calls, or see pictures, but they don't always have the opportunity to experience them first hand. Front row seats, if you will.
With the Howler's growing up comes the advantage of having her, parent-free, and for them to truly get the full effects of the Howler. It's a wonderful adventure for them.
This week, the Howler is visiting, and of course, in just the few short days she's been there, they've gotten the full Howler. The good, the bad, and the smelly. We're enjoying her vacation, and missing her terribly.
Anyway, we talked with the Howler Monday night, and after we got off the phone, my sister-in-law called back almost immediately and said, "Oh! The Howler has something to tell you that's very very important and couldn't wait."
The Howler gets on the phone and says, "Mommy, I have a loose tooth!" I, of course, ask if she's sure. Sure she's sure.
I get Kevin on the phone, and she tells him, more excited than when she told me. He, of course, asks if she's sure. Sure she's sure.
I don't know if the tooth will wait until we get her home. I am missing my baby's first loose tooth. But, I'm happy that my ILs are getting to experience at least one of my baby's firsts.
The Howler is very lucky to have such a family to love her. And so am I.
With the Howler's growing up comes the advantage of having her, parent-free, and for them to truly get the full effects of the Howler. It's a wonderful adventure for them.
This week, the Howler is visiting, and of course, in just the few short days she's been there, they've gotten the full Howler. The good, the bad, and the smelly. We're enjoying her vacation, and missing her terribly.
Anyway, we talked with the Howler Monday night, and after we got off the phone, my sister-in-law called back almost immediately and said, "Oh! The Howler has something to tell you that's very very important and couldn't wait."
The Howler gets on the phone and says, "Mommy, I have a loose tooth!" I, of course, ask if she's sure. Sure she's sure.
I get Kevin on the phone, and she tells him, more excited than when she told me. He, of course, asks if she's sure. Sure she's sure.
I don't know if the tooth will wait until we get her home. I am missing my baby's first loose tooth. But, I'm happy that my ILs are getting to experience at least one of my baby's firsts.
The Howler is very lucky to have such a family to love her. And so am I.
Sunday, July 8, 2007
Howler-Less
We are Howler-less for the week.
She's been packed off to Grandma M's house for a week of Bible school, lovin' and huggin', and, I suspect, a kinder, gentler lifestyle.
I love these people. I love what they do for my daughter. Relentless as she is (think Tsunami in Princess sneaks), she is always just a bit sweeter, gentler and quieter after spending time there without her meddling parents.
She didn't want to go last night. She announced, very matter-of-factly, that she would not go. Period. No-way, No-how! Not even if it meant she couldn't see Tommy Too. (Actually, she said she didn't want to go because Tommy won't let her kiss him).
Never underestimate the Power of Your Mother--I simply bided my time (an hour or so) and then let her know that I *wa-as gonna* come to pick her up Friday night, sleep over and then come home, with her, on Saturday morning.
Suddenly, it was imperitive that she go. Aunt Joy was wanting to see her sooooooooooo very much. And Grandma, Grandma would cry.
I snookered a 5 year old into visiting her grandparents, aunts and cousins who adore her, and whom she adores.
She's not usually so easily persuaded.
I worry, now that she's there, and I (and my Power) are here, that she has some agenda we've yet to discover.
She's been packed off to Grandma M's house for a week of Bible school, lovin' and huggin', and, I suspect, a kinder, gentler lifestyle.
I love these people. I love what they do for my daughter. Relentless as she is (think Tsunami in Princess sneaks), she is always just a bit sweeter, gentler and quieter after spending time there without her meddling parents.
She didn't want to go last night. She announced, very matter-of-factly, that she would not go. Period. No-way, No-how! Not even if it meant she couldn't see Tommy Too. (Actually, she said she didn't want to go because Tommy won't let her kiss him).
Never underestimate the Power of Your Mother--I simply bided my time (an hour or so) and then let her know that I *wa-as gonna* come to pick her up Friday night, sleep over and then come home, with her, on Saturday morning.
Suddenly, it was imperitive that she go. Aunt Joy was wanting to see her sooooooooooo very much. And Grandma, Grandma would cry.
I snookered a 5 year old into visiting her grandparents, aunts and cousins who adore her, and whom she adores.
She's not usually so easily persuaded.
I worry, now that she's there, and I (and my Power) are here, that she has some agenda we've yet to discover.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)