She Works Hard For Her Money

Worked my butt off this weekend. Oh, never mind, I just looked and it's all still there - dimples and all.

But I did work hard.  Husband originally wanted to go camping but I needed a weekend at home. An entire weekend, not just a Sunday afternoon. We've been running crazy the last month and haven't had any weekend home time.  I thought we might do something low-key, like a movie but I woke up Saturday in cleaning mode and spent the day doing some deep, intense cleaning. Ceiling fans, air vents, baseboards - all the areas that get neglected in the regular cleaning rotation.  I seriously sat down for maybe a few hours the entire day.  I even skipped lunch with the fam so I could finish cleaning the inside of the oven.  It was awesome. 

And that's not a sarcastic awesome. It really was awesome. Not the actually cleaning part, because I'm lazy and generally that kind of stuff just sucks.  But it felt good to be productive and to get stuff done and to move that much and to just get after it like a machine. I felt like such a badass. A badass cleaning goddess.

Don't make fun of me - I don't do sports so this is all I got...

 I thought my couch might begin suffering from separation anxiety so I remedied that with a slow and lazy Sunday.  Church and laundry and that was about it. And trying something new with lunch. Grilled tomatoes. The family was not a fan. I thought they were good but not if you expected it to taste like a tomato. Does that make sense?  You just had to base it on the merit of it's taste alone,  not the expectation of what you think it should taste like. I'm going through a tomato kick lately anyway so not sure about that...

Need to begin finding some good dip recipes. Two more weekends and we'll be gathered around the tv to celebrate the return of college football and maybe its just me, but I'm thinking no one wants to munch on some tomatoes while watching the game...

Green Thumb

Well, I'm not in jail. But I can't really say I'm "free" either.  After all, I'm still imprisoned by the responsibilities of living as a domestic servant goddess.

I've just decided that "goddess" makes everything sound better. I think I'll begin to use it more often-cooking goddess, laundry goddess, toilet bowl cleaning goddess.  Okay, so maybe not everything.

So we have new neighbors.  They're pretty good neighbors, although I get annoyed that they park in front of our house.  Every. Single. Day.

I get that it's a public street and I understand that I shouldn't really be annoyed. And yet I am. I think part of it is that we don't really know them at all but were super friendly with the guy that lived there before. The other part is that he never parked in front of our house.

They went on vacation the other day and asked us to get their mail and asked if M would water the plants they have on their porch.  They have a lot of plants. A lot. I'm not sure how they keep them all alive but I'm impressed. Of course, I'm not sure how much weight that holds coming from a person that once killed a cactus.

So when they asked the hubby they said they would pay M for the watering.  He took that as an opportunity to teach her the value of work and asked her if she wanted to water and told her she might get paid.

She was very responsible and had a blast taking care of the plants. Seriously, she wanted to do it like ten times a day.  Of course, her fascination doesn't really surprise me - the child has never lived in a house with a live plant until about 6 months ago. And it's alive because it belongs to my husband.

The neighbors returned from vacation today. I knew because they were parked in front of our house. 

The husband met us in the driveway and came over a minute later to get the mail.  He brought us some maple syrup (they went to Canada) and tried to hand me a wad of cash for the plants. I refused, telling him it's just what neighbors do. 

After he left my husband came around the corner acting confused.  He disagreed with my refusal of the money because he felt like M worked for it. And yes, she did.

His perspective is that it's important for her to learn to work hard and she should understand there's a reward for hard work. And I can see that point.

My point is that it is equally important to teach her that we do nice things without expectations of reward, simply because it's the right thing to do.

It's amazing how our perspectives are shaped by our backgrounds and how that translates into our values.  My husband values taking initiative and a good work ethic and I value helping others and making a difference. But I think it's good - my hope is that our kids will have a healthy dose of both. I want them to work extra hard. At making the world a better place.

And just in case you're worried that the little gardener got cheated - she didn't. Her Daddy is going to pay her. I might encourage her to buy her own plant. And I'll even promise not to touch it.

Jailbird

So I arrive at the office bright and early and notice there's a voicemail on the office phone. That happens pretty frequently as a lot of our students call during the evening hours.  So I grab my pen and a piece of paper and I'm ready to go.

The first thing that caught my attention was the introduction "This is Sergeant X, with the Midwest City police department." Okaaaay.

But then he said "I'm looking for Amber Mitchell."  WHAAAT?!  I seriously had to reply the message to make sure he really said my name.

And he did. Along with a number to call him back. But it isn't 8 yet so I think it's too early to call...isn't it? Or maybe I'm just pretty sure I don't want to take that call. Because it's never really a good thing when the police department calls, right?

Well, this is definitely going to be an interesting day...

If you don't hear from me in the next day or two - send bail money!

Randomness

I’ve been putting off blogging because I fully intended to sit down and spend some time catching you up and sharing about some of the events from the last few weeks. But now that I’m actually doing it, it all seems a little irrelevant. Kinda like telling a friend you have something really funny to tell them but having to wait so that by the time you can actually tell them, you realize it really isn’t that funny anymore. 

Instead I’ll do some picture highlights. I've been told that good bloggers have lots of pictures.  This is a problem for me because most my pictures have my kids in them and I have a husband that isn't crazy about me sharing any of that stuff on the web. So what you get is just a bunch of pictures of...me. Sorry, it's the best I've got.

And just to make it up to you, I'll throw in some random thoughts. And I do mean random…these are just some things floating around in my head.  

First up, the last few weeks in pictures:
Got a house ready for rental.  This is actually one of my favorite houses - it doesn't look that cute in the picture but it's just a sweet little place. And yes, that's our former tenants furniture and tv. And yes, the tv worked. Yeah, I don't know why they would leave it either.

 

  

Got to have my kid with me for a week. Enrolled her in a summer program at work and got to spend some time with her between her classes. She got to learn, spend some extra time with her Mommy and make super fun crafts.

 

Spent some time on the lake. These are different lake trips but I seem to be wearing the same swimsuit/coverup in all of them. So much for variety...

Had a birthday party. And an encounter with a baker.

Got my hair did by the best beauticians in the world.

 

Spent some fun time with some people I care about.

Had small people use me as a pillow while we laid in our hotel room watching tv.

Random commentary about nothing of importance:
Do you know who your kid is with?
We finally got another kid in the neighborhood. This is the only other kid in our area, so the girls were especially excited to have someone to play with. I’m really glad that they have a new friend and I’m excited that their new friend likes to come over every night and play. Not as thrilled with the realization that this means I can no longer take my bra off the minute I get home. Yep folks, looks like the days of spending my evenings half-dressed are officially over.

And I think it’s kinda odd that her parents let her come over so much. I don’t know, I’m sure I’m overprotective but they don’t really know anything about us…My husband introduced himself to her Dad but that was it.  The Mom was sitting on the porch when we got home the other day and I was going to go over and say hello but she went in the house when we pulled up. And I kinda think she went in because we pulled up.  I mean, we have kids of our own but that doesn’t mean we’re good people. We are, but they don’t know that. I don’t know, I’m just jaded when it comes to other people and my kids.

Short or tall, I liked them all.
Had a conversation with an acquaintance, who played college basketball, about his theory on the attraction between tall guys and short girls. I don’t think there necessarily is one – I think attraction just happens and height becomes irrelevant. At least it is for me – I never tried to date guys of a specific height. Although, I’m generally not enormously attracted to short men. Ironic, I know.

He cracked up when I told him I dated a college ball player.  He was really, really tall. But we didn’t date very long. He didn’t really seem that into me so I just let it fade. Then one day he called out of the blue and when I told him I was dating someone else, he acted hurt and even asked if the guy was more attractive than him.  It was so lame. 

Are you ready?
It’s almost back to school time! Hard to believe the summer is almost over – it went by way too quickly. I’m not sure I’m ready – at work or at home. But I am excited for fall – it’s my absolute favorite time of the year. I love the weather, the energy but most of all, college football! There are 31 days until kickoff and I’m gonna do my best to score some tickets! BOOMER!

You Should Know

The other day I had the opportunity to spend some quality time with an old friend. Of course, it wasn’t enough time but it was enough to make me miss him terribly. 

We became friends towards the end of our senior year of high school. Looking at us, you probably wouldn’t have matched us up. I was the shy nerdy girl that no one knew and he was the crazy stoner dude that knew everyone. But somehow our paths crossed and the summer after graduation we became very close.

He was my favorite running buddy – if I was going somewhere or doing something I invited him. He was always happy and loved life and that attitude seemed to make every experience better.

We would spend hours on the phone but would rarely talk – most that time was spent watching episodes of Cops and then making snide, judgey comments during the commercials.  Most people would find that boring but it was kinda our thing.  He got my sense of humor and liked to make me laugh.

And he always, always looked out for me.  That summer during a small party, someone slipped something in my Dr. Pepper.  When the drugs hit my system I knew something was wrong but had no clue what was going on. Never in a million years would I have imagined something like that happening to me.  I ran to him and told him to get me help because I had been poisoned by the “bad” fish I had eaten for lunch.  He pieced together what had happened, called my Mom to come over and then spent the rest of the night talking me through the terrifying moments and making sure I was okay.

Then, I did something very hurtful. Like most hurtful things, that wasn’t my intention. It had nothing to do with him and everything to do with me. I was self-centered and selfish and focused on my own desires.  I don’t think I ever even really thought how my actions might impact him or make him feel.

Now that I’m older and maybe a little bit wiser, I think that was probably what hurt him the most – my utter and complete disregard for his feelings and for him – as my best friend and someone who cared for me. I ignored my responsibility to consider his feelings and treated him carelessly.

Our friendship was never the same. But I was all wrapped up in a new guy and school and life and so the friendship seemed to fade naturally. I missed him and thought of him but never gave consideration to what had really happened.

Until several years later. Then I got it. I understood with clarity what I had done and how horrible it had been. By then, we rarely talked.  I wanted to say something, to offer an apology but I convinced myself it was irrelevant – we had moved on, we each had our own separate lives and it seemed awkward to bring it back up.

But after seeing him the other day I am certain of one thing: it is never too late or too awkward to apologize.

So here it goes:

BFB, you need to know I am sorry. I’m sorry that I was insensitive and hurtful. I’m sorry I disregarded your feelings and was careless with your heart.  I’m sorry I was a bad friend.  I’m sorry for all it.  And I’m especially sorry it’s taken me this long to tell you how sorry I am.

Fight or Flight

I’m the first to get up every morning.  The husband used to come down while I was still in the shower and start his bathroom routine. A routine that begins with a lengthy stay on the toilet.  I have to tell you, that was a horrible way to start my day – horrible! Nobody deserves to be subjected to the smells I had to endure. Nobody.  I feel like I should get some kind of award for remaining conscious. And not throwing up. Very often.

Now he says in bed and I wake him up when I’m done.  I don’t know if this was a deliberate decision on his part – I didn’t complain but I’m sure my feelings were clear by my constant shouts of “SPRAY!” – or if it’s just general sleepiness on his part. Either way, this has improved my life exponentially. 

So I wake up, leave my sleeping husband and stumble across our bedroom and make my way downstairs.  As I round the corner to go down the hall to the bathroom a man suddenly steps out of the darkness and says something.  I’ve never encountered a home invader before but I’ve watched enough Criminal Minds to know that it could happen.

I’ve always pictured myself as a fighter. Don’t get me wrong, I totally understand that I’m at a physical disadvantage but in my mind, I was going to fight as hard as I could for as long as I could. And somehow that translated into me having the advantage. So I’ve always been confident that if something happened, I could instinctively take the other person down.

But I’m so struck with terror that attacking this guy doesn’t even register with me. Instead, my hands fly up to protect my face and I jump about three feet. But not three feet up. I’m pretty sure my feet didn’t make it more than two inches off the ground. No, I jumped backwards. And I screamed. But I didn’t scream for help or shout out my husband’s name – nope. I screamed, in my most frightened voice, “What?”

And as soon as I get that out of my mouth I hear laughing. And my husband’s voice asking “Why would you yell ‘What’? You think somebody’s in the house and you yell ‘What’?”

I responded by smacking him really hard.

So now we know when the adrenaline rushes though I’ll be in total flight mode. No ninja moves for this chick. Now I need to work to make sure my flight is a little more than a baby jump backwards because if I really was being attacked, that totally wouldn't have saved me...

MIA

Heeeeelllllloooooo?

Anybody out there?

If you can hear me, I just want you to know I haven’t forgotten about you! I’ve been a horrible blogger lately.  I know, I know – the total of two people who ever read this thing are so severely disappointed. And in case you’ve never met me – that’s dripping in sarcasm.

But I’ve been super busy. This gives me a lot to blog about, but not enough time to actually blog. Such a cruel paradox…

I will get you caught up, I promise.

For now I will leave you with something humorous.

I DO have a neck - I was just suffering from awkward fitting lifevest syndrome.

Okay, the picture itself isn’t actually funny.  Unless you find me and a girlfriend on a tube hilarious – and in that case I would suggest you reevaluate your sense of humor.

The funny part of this picture is what happened after it was taken.  I was messing around and decided to spice up the tube riding by putting up my hands and not taking them down, no matter what…which lasted for mayyybbee 5 minutes.  Because the instant my husband figured out what I was doing he ramped it up and hit every wave possible.

So immediately after that picture was snapped we hit a bump, my feet went up over my head, I went airborne and flew out of the tube backwards.  I’ve been dumped out of a tube before, but never with the aerobics that occurred that day. It would have made the USA gymnastics team proud…