Most Talented? Not Here.

If I were to ask any of you, "What's my talent?" I guarantee that 99% of you will answer that I sing. Y'all, I don't just sing. I SING. It's what I do to feed my soul. It's always been how I serve and how I worship. I do it even when I don't realize I'm doing it. I've sung for so long, it's part of who I am. I feel most comfortable in my own skin when I'm singing.

Clay. Hates. It.

Yeah, you heard me. Clay hates when I sing.  He loves music and he listens to all kinds of songs on his ipad.  Anyone elses's singing is just fine. My singing is torture for him. If I sing one note or even talk in a sing-song manner, he loses his shit. I'm not allowed to sing in the car. I get yelled at from the back seat. If I sing in the shower, he will come in the bathroom, screaming and crying real tears, open the shower door, and beg me to stop.  When I sang at my grandfather's funeral, and then three years later at my grandmother's funeral, he buried his head in my husband's lap and squeezed his hands over his years. Whenever I was asked to sing at church, he refused to go. I haven't been asked to sing in over a year, and he has let it be known that he is so glad Mommy isn't singing on the microphone. He was playing soccer in the backyard this afternoon and I took that time to sing some Etta James. He burst through the door screaming at me, demanding I stop. Before you start suggesting I just do it anyway, you have no idea. We have tried to work through this since he was 14 months old. We have worked with his speech therapist. We have worked with his occupational therapist. We have worked with his ABA therapist. We clearly haven't been successful. The only time it's remotely allowed is when it's bedtime. But even then I have to sing the same 5 songs, in the same order, in the same key. He has perfect pitch. Really, bro?

My sweet boy has overcome so many obstacles and has far surpassed my initial expectations. He's smart. He's sweet. He's funny. He. Is. So. Pure. Autism may hide in the shadows most of the time, but it really does rip a stinky fart now and then just to remind you it's there. We spent last week in San Antonio with my best friend and her family. Clay was on cloud 9. We played. We swam. We ate junk food. We stayed up late. It was a wonderful week. We came home and he's terrified to sleep in his own bed. Wanna know why? He's afraid of Adolf Hitler. Adolf. Freaking. Hitler. How in the world does he even know about Adolf Hitler? Because he heard about him on an episode of his favorite tv show, "The Office" and wanted to know more. Hubby gave him the most appropriate description, but the kid knows how to google. Thanks a lot, Michael Scott. Thanks a lot.

Six. More. Days.

So, my last post was way-too-freaking-long-ago, but it's because I've basically been working three full-time jobs. Being a mama to my two, plus being an active realtor, kept me busy enough. Adding the school job on top of it was great, in theory, but...my last day is next week. I love these kiddos, but let me tell you, my ADD game is STRONG right now. It's bad. y'all. I had to get a special pill organizer! It's a sad, sad, day when you're reading Amazon reviews and you pick the right pill organizer based on the fact that "you can remove just the days that you need if you're going on a spontaneous vacay." 

Uh, I have so little spare time that I have to set reminder alarms for alarms

Let's be clear, I can multi-task like a BOSS, but the last week of school has brought out an inner kindergartner in me that I didn't know existed. People are talking at full volume all around me and I'm all "SHUT UP YOU JERKS!!! I AM TRYING TO COUNT PAPERCLIPS!!!" Yeah. It's serious. I'm so grouchy, it feels like I haven't taken my meds in weeks. Or ever. I told my bff today, "If I had a uterus, I guarantee Aunt Flo would show up tomorrow with her doilies and fruit cake." The struggle is REAL.

****I just looked at my post, and saw all the capitalized words. This is a serious situation and I need you to know the depths of my angst.*****

We need to talk about being a 41 1/2 year old mom in May. So many advance notices about things coming up "next year" accompanied by physical exam forms and "end-of-the-year-announcements". So many, "We need you to see if your child lost a retainer in the lost and found." So many, "Hey! It's Sno-cone day tomorrow, so send $75 with your kid!" I. Just. Can't. I'm tapped out. I'm done.

Oh, and did I mention my a/c went out last night? FIX IT JESUS!!!!! The repair guy called at 3:00 to say, "Hey, I'm at your house and nobody is answering the door." Well, yeah, you dumbass!!! Nobody called to tell me you were coming! Who knew? All through April we had freeze warnings and cancelled soccer games for wind chills and temps below freezing. (For the little one. Not for the big one. He plays competitive soccer and they don't give two shits. Ice on the roads and snow on the ground but "7:30 am start time" still sticks.)

That white stuff is for real snow. In Arkansas. In April. 

And then the sweetest, most darling kindergartner walked in at 3:39 with diarrhea running down BOTH legs, I had to go to my happy place. At 4:19. 

Oh, and I love JJ Watt!!!

One job is never enough.

I absolutely love selling houses. I'm good at it, and I get to work with people during one of their most significant life changes. I've had friends become clients as well as clients become friends. I have to say that it's my favorite job I've ever had, My second most favorite job was being the office manager at a pre-school. School is so much fun to me! I knew I was going to be a teacher. I have some of the best memories of my 6th, 7th, and 8th graders and I am proud to still be in touch with so many of them. Growing up, I always played "school" or "secretary", but I was a very specific kind of secretary. I was either a receptionist or the Principal's secretary. 

Now that I really have a handle on how I like to work my real estate career, I thought I'd peruse the local district's job openings to see if there were any clerical positions. It's really a win-win. I'm on my kids' schedule AND I'm busy enough that I don't sit on the couch eating Cheetos all day. Oh, and a bi-weekly paycheck in addition to my Rodan+Fields income would mean I can get the cleaning fairies to come back. 

You know what's coming....

I'm the newest employee at one of the elementary schools in Edmond. I asked Clay if he wanted to come with me to my new school and his response was, "No thank you." Well, alrighty then. Before you ask if I'm teaching again, please know that the answer to that question is "HELL TO THE NAW!!" I have an even better job. I'm the front desk secretary! It's been a long time since I've had to be up, dressed, hair and make-up done, and ready to "people" at 7:30 a.m. Monday changed that. I was so tired on Monday that I was asleep by 7:30. Tuesday, I almost made it to 9:00. Wednesday and Thursday weren't any better. Today, I had a coffee at 2:30 because my sentences weren't making any sense. Here's hoping I make it to 10:00. HA! Aside from the sleepy struggles, it's great, y'all! I get all the benefits of playing with my school co-workers and being around kids, but I don't have to worry about all that teaching stuff getting in the way.

Kids are HAH-LARRY-US, but kids with Autism hold a special place on the hilarity scale. One in particular felt it necessary to tell the principal he yelled at another kid because that other kid was "PISSIN' HIM OFF!!" Autism doesn't have a filter, kids. You wanna know if that dress makes you look fat? Ask a kid on the Spectrum. 

I feel like I'm a bit of an expert now, and I want to share what I've learned after a year-and-a-half as PTO President (had to resign when I took the job) and one week as the "new lady in the office". Here are a few tips for those of you with kiddos in the school system. 

1) If any employee asks to see your ID, even though you have had 18 kids go through that school, please don't give them any shit. IT MIGHT BE HER FIRST DAY, MAN! 

2) Eat lunch with your kids as much as you can and give them lots and lots of kisses, even in front of their friends. I've watched 5th grade boys wipe off their mamas' kisses, but turn to walk back to class with a genuine smile on their faces.

3) Nobody, and I mean NO. BAH. DEE. is judging you for coming up to school in your sweatpants, no bra, messy bun, and no makeup. We're too busy being jealous.

4) If soup is on the menu and your kid is buying lunch, make sure that there are some extra clothes available for when the soup explodes.

5) I guarantee you'd be a bajillionaire if you could invent a mister that only sprayed kid-friendly Lysol as kids walked in and out of the door.

6) Respect the carpool! That's right. Hell hath no fury like a mom still on her first cup of coffee in a minivan. You breaking the rules and jacking the system only makes it harder for you in the end. Moms AND dads will join in solidarity to keep your cheating ass stuck in the parking lot and unable to get out. Oh, and for the love of all things good and holy, the moment your kids get out of the car is not the appropriate time to engage in a long conversation. Discuss whether or not Kesha has lost her edge since dropping the $ around the dinner table, not the car line.

Oh, how I've missed you!!

Oh my goodness gracious on a stick!!!! I have missed sharing my innermost thoughts with you all so much! Between Thanksgiving and Christmas I start planning my goals for the following year and getting back to blogging was at the top of my list of goals for 2018!! Somewhere between dog surgeries, selling houses, and trying to keep the foul stank (yes, I meant to type stank) of soccer cleats and shin guards out of my car, I dropped blogging. Well, fear not, my pretties. Mama's back!

We have so much to catch up on, but I'll just give a quick little run down of things on my mind lately.

1) I have the coolest kids ever. I never hid the fact that there was a good chunk of time that I worried about my relationship with my oldest. He was not my favorite person. I always loved him, but I didn't like him. At all. He was kind of a jerk, y'all. To everyone else he was wonderful, polite, and helpful. To me? Not so much. To me he was a total jackass. I can now say without hesitation that he's pretty much my favorite person in the history of the world. He's a lot like me which can be awesome and awful at the same time. Luckily for both of us, 90% of the time, it's the former. As much as he's like me, he's like his dad. He doesn't like to draw attention to himself or put himself out there in social situations. He really likes to hang back and watch it all happen. He's a fantastic athlete. Runs like a gazelle and still loves soccer. At 12 years old he's 5' 5 1/2" and weighs in at a whopping 97 lbs. I don't know how. He eats constantly. Con. Stant. Ly. Both of the boys do. My baby boy isn't such a baby anymore, but he's still MY baby. He still says things that are so innocent. For example, "Mommy, I really want to see one of those 4 times 4 trucks. I bet a 16 year old drives it because 4 times 4 is 16." (Thinking.....) "Oh, buddy, you mean a 4 'by' 4?" "Yeah, see, look. It says '4x4' on the back." I love his little mind. When I think about how far he's come and all the people that have helped him get there, I seriously want to go full Oprah on them and give them all a car. I couldn't have ever gotten here without them.

2) I really and truly thought Nick Saban's head was going to explode during the National Championship game. Like, for real. I was sad to see Georgia lose, but even more sad that Alabama won. 

3) My body is quitting on me. I ran my last race in October 2016. After that race, my doctor told me I needed to take some time off. I said, "Oh, like a few weeks?" She said, "No, like a year." (cue the sound of the record needle being ripped off) So, I took a year off and then started abusing my feet in other ways and after a year of pounding, they have said, "Look-a here, Sister. We ain't playin'. WE SAID NO MORE!!!" What is this fresh hell I've stepped into? My feet hurt all the time. I've succumbed to Birkenstocks. My hair is almost 100% gray without my hair magician, Janae. (But, hey, I can wear it curly if I want to!) Most disturbing of all, is that I can't identify 90% of the songs on the radio or pick the singers out of a line-up. The music scene is pretty terrible lately. I find myself listening to more 80's and 90's music on Pandora or classic hymns if I listen to anything at all. Does all of this officially mean I'm old now? Shit.

 

4) I miss my Lola Jane. We had to help her cross the Rainbow Bridge in September. We don't know how old the poor girl was, but Sister Saggy Tits sure had a great 4 years with us. She ruled this house like a queen. We should all strive to be a little like Lola.

Go against the norm.

"Oh, that laundry is clean? Here, let me lay on it.That way you don't have to worry about folding it." 

Live with determination.

"Yeah, I know my legs are short, but if you leave that loaf of Kings Hawaiian Bread on the counter, I'll show you how high I can jump!"

Protect those you love.

"It's a hard job to sit and stare out this window between 3 hour naps. What if a cat tries to come in and kill us all!!"

5) Peach, pink, tan, and all flesh colored leggings should be BANNED!!! I can't tell you how many wrecks I've almost had taking my son to school because some poor gal didn't have me in her life to tell her, "No, girl! Just, NO!!"

I'm back, y'all.

Tis the Season...

Y'all. I love Christmas. 

I LOVE Christmas. 

I. LOVE. CHRISTMAS. 

I love the weeks leading up to it. I had a Christmas wedding because I love Christmas so much. My house is usually decorated for Christmas the night before we leave for Thanksgiving just so we can come home to Christmas decorations. I love singing Christmas music. I love everything about it. I love shopping for other people and choosing special gifts for them. I love planning what Santa's 3 gifts will be for each kid...Jesus got 3 gifts so they get 3 gifts. I love watching Christmas movies. I love celebrating my youngest's birthday the week before. I love addressing and receiving cards. I love baking. I love ALL of the Christmas things! But this year, y'all, someone is trying to jack my joy.

It all started right before we left for Thanksgiving. I noticed my giant lab, Boris, had a big, puffy pocket inside his ear. That would be an aural hematoma. Shit. My dog has chronic ear infections due to allergies. We started on allergy shots this summer....yes, you read that correctly. Allergy shots for the DOG...but it hasn't been a long enough period of time for them to work their magic, so homeboy got an ear infection mid-November. With the ear infection comes a lot of flapping and scratching which ultimately caused the hematoma. If you want to be grossed out, watch this hematoma surgery being performed. I shouldn't have, but I did, and now I'm traumatized. Anywho, I knew that we would need to have surgery when we got back because the longer the hematoma stays, the more Boris would scratch it, the bigger it would get, and the more chance for rupture. Ew. So, I took big 'un to the vet the day after we got home and sure enough, surgery was scheduled for the very next day. Side note - we closed all of our credit cards the week before Thanksgiving because we (translation: I) want (translation: need) to be forced to stop using them. Yes, I had to give myself some tough love. It was ugly and there were tears and gnashing of teeth but I pulled up my big girl panties and got over it. Needless to say, the first week in December wasn't exactly optimal time to have a doggy surgery, but it was necessary, so you gotta do what you gotta do. Long story short, the vet got in there and while the hematoma was pretty straight-forward, apparently he had a lot of funk in the ear that had to be removed and the surgery ended up costing $800. For real. 

We get Big Boris and his drunk, drugged up self home and it was so pitiful. He laid around for 2 days. And then the meds and anesthesia wore off and he went full-on crazy. I let him out and he started dragging his $800 ear in the grass and then scratching it. Oh hell no! You scratch the $800 ear, you get the cone. That dog was slamming into walls and door frames and ripped half of the ornaments off the tree with that thing. It was broken in half in a day! This is why we can't have nice things y'all. So, cone number two came into our lives. What you also need to know is that he is on his second head wrap. Yes, second. We had to go back to the vet this morning because he pulled the damn thing off. In the middle of the night last night, he wacked into a wall (on purpose I'm sure) which was the final demise of cone number 2

It make it 2 days. We are now on cone number 3. 

This bitch is indestructible.

Please note the look of "Mom, I'm so going to pee in your closet."

The vet and I were talking about him and the fact that he's so agitated even when he's on his max dose of pain/anxiety meds. So, she did what any good doc would do. SHE PRESCRIBED XANAX. Oh, for the love.

The other thing that happened this week is that I got a speeding ticket. In a school zone. Right by my house. That's right. The PTO president was speeding. In the freaking school zone. Mr Motorcycle Cop asked me why I was speeding in said school zone. I stopped myself before telling him "It's been a stressful few days with my dog and I need to get to the liquor store before my kids get home" Something tells me he wouldn't have cared.

So, I've made it to Wednesday. The vet adventure this morning was quite interesting and the pharmacy called to verify that yes, indeed, the Xanax was for the DOG. I had a wonderful lunch with a great girlfriend and then I thought I'd stop by the store for a nice bottle of wine for tonight's dinner. The universe said, "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!" This was in the form of a very sad phone call from my youngest crying at school because he didn't feel good and needed to come home.

I know. I should count my blessings. I have a warm house. My dog is totally zoned out. Both boys are doing well in school. I can shop online next week. I have a great job that I love. I have amazing friends. Hubby and I have just celebrated our 16th anniversary. The cold front is here. I'm staring at my gorgeous Christmas tree, sitting by the fire. The only thing that could make it more perfect is a glass of wine....but I'm out.

The BIG 4-0!!

Y'all, I'm more excited about turning 40 than I was about turning 16 or 21. August 1, 2016 will be the best day ever! I remember being 16 and my mom turning 40. I thought she was such a grown-up. At that time, and even up until recently, I thought all Forty year olds had their shit together. I mean, seriously. Forty year olds are supposed to be debt free, with 6 months worth of savings in the bank, and their kids' college educations fully funded. Forty year olds are supposed to behave themselves and take vitamins every day. Forty year olds are supposed to live every moment with and for their children.

Um....This girl? Not so much. But, who cares?

I am at an age where I can honestly say, with absolute certainty and sincerity, that I no longer give a damn what anyone thinks of me. I may not be debt free with 6 months savings and fully-funded college educations, but I will one day. (In the meantime, know anyone who wants to buy or sell a house?) I have learned that I have to take time for myself and I absolutely have to have time with my girlfriends. Know what else I've learned? Taking family vacations with just my husband and my kids is the best thing ever. We just spent the week in Colorado and it was so fun to get away from reality and just be together. Just me and my perfect little family. And a hailstorm, but whatever. Yay for being an adult and having great insurance!

I am more comfortable in my body now than ever. Sure, parts of my body are lower than they used to be and I've got tiger stripes. (That sounds so much better than stretch-marks, don't you think?) I have pains in new places everyday and make noises that only my grandma used to make, but y'all, I've been through so much! And I am STRONG! In 40 years, I lost my mother and became a mother myself. I graduated from the best university in the world. WHOOP! I have not just navigated roads people fear, but made the path wide enough to support others on their journey. I am in better physical shape now than I was 20 years ago. I trained for 3 marathons and in the process, completed 6 half marathons and 2 full marathons in the past 3 years, and it's all because I wanted to complete a 5K before I turned 40. I grew, inside my body, the two most gorgeous boys on the planet. I don't hesitate to jump on stage and sing with the band. I can do the splits and the worm...but not at the same time. That would be dangerous. 

So, everyone go grab a glass of wine and let's celebrate....all month long!!

Glory Days

Kids these days just don't have the great products that we, the children of the 80's, had. My kid said to me a few weeks ago on a 3 hour car trip, "I really wish I had data on my iPad so that I could just watch Netflix." I nearly ran the car off the road as I explained how fortunate he is. When I was a kid, I was stuck in the back of my parents' Toyota Corolla hatchback with my Speak 'n Spell, books, and music. He says "Oh, did you just have an old Mp3 player or something?" Bless his heart. I said, "No, dude! I had a cassette player!" He goes, "What's a cassette?" A little piece of my heart died. Then, my friend, Amy, posted a picture from May 1989 on Facebook. (My mom used to call her "Pretty Amy" and I am quite certain it has something to do with my low self esteem and constant need for approval and reassurance but I'm not at all bitter about it.)

See what I mean? She's gorgeous. And that hair! I tried so hard to achieve hair greatness like that, but it just never quite got there. A few years ago Amy caught her hair on fire during the Christmas Eve candlelight service. Let's all thank the good Lord it didn't happen in the days of Aquanet and Rave, or she'd be a gonner.

 Look at this magnificent chronicle of 80's grandeur. There's a Le Clic camera on the floor, y'all. And do you notice that wooden peg thing over her left shoulder? That's a bandana with a ceramic heart. That necklace was proudly worn with the denim jumper, white shirt with the large ruffled collar, and red Keds. That turntable was the bomb. Zoom in. Relive your youth. 

I so remember the days of big hair, matching my bow to my socks, and singing along with Milli Vanilli at the top of my lungs. Watching my kid enter this stage of life is quite amusing. I am taking great pleasure in continuing to be as obnoxious as I've always been, much to his dismay, but to the complete and utter delight of his friends. Hey, at least they think I'm cool, even though I never had a Le Clic camera or a hair crimper.

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Greatest Hits? Who knew?

I spent the weekend with him and his soccer team in Wichita, Kansas. (To all of my Texas friends that think Oklahoma sucks, you ain't been to Wichita.) Let me just say this. It became very clear to me this weekend that I was really destined to be a boy mom, but daaaaang do they stink. I couldn't decide what the dead, rotten, decaying, corpse-ass smell was coming from the back of my car until I got a good whiff of my kids backpack that held his cleats. You know in cartoons when they show a green hazy flow coming off of something? It was exactly like that. I swear. Cleaning and/or burning those items was the first thing on my to-do list when we got home. But, aside from the stench, the boys were hilarious. One of my favorite moments was when one of my kid's buddies asked me, "Ms. Amy, have you ever heard the song 'The Cars That Go Boom'?" Oh, bless your heart, young one. That was my 7th grade jam! I did what any good mom would do. I pulled that bad boy up on iTunes, turned the volume up, rolled down the windows and threw a little dance party for the 5 people in my car. I sang. I gyrated. I impressed the snot out of them. Oh yes, I did. 

I've lost my ever-lovin' mind. Y'all, I am the president-elect for the middle school PTO. I don't even have a kid in middle school yet, but I've just gone balls to the wall with my volunteerism and level of parental involvement. What was I thinking? I'll tell you what I was thinking. I was thinking that the middle school people are my tribe. I get them. They get me. I taught 6th, 7th, and 8th graders for 9 years before I "retired" to stay home with my kiddos. I know that these teachers want food and booze. I haven't told my incoming middle schooler yet. We'll see how well that goes over. 

cue maniacle laugh