This morning I took the kids to the library. This morning I completely failed my boy Jake.
See, I was there for a MOMS club get together and I was happily chatting away with a couple other moms (hi Jennifer and Kristen) when I look to the other end of the play area and see Jake sitting at the table where the chess set is. There is a mom there with her two boys who were maybe 4 and 5 years old and Jake is watching. From where I'm sitting I can't tell exactly what Jake is doing but it looks to me like he is just watching so I didn't haul myself down there to investigate as I was enjoying my conversation (I was also holding Reid and trying to keep the Ainsley beast in line). THAT was my first failure.
I looked up a minute later and see the chess table lady saying something to Jake. I didn't think much of it. Then 30 seconds later I see him walking very slowly toward me with a devastated look on his precious little face. His lip was stuck out so far I could see it from across the room. I ran over to him and he began to cry and just looked back at the chess table with the saddest look on his face. I gathered him in my arms and asked what was wrong and could only really gather that something unkind was said to my son. I kissed him and told him it was ok and that some people are just not very nice. But then I had my second failure. I should have gone over to that woman (I'll just call her that instead of all the other words I'd like to call her) and asked her what she said to my son that made him so upset. I should have asked what could have been so crucial about the game of chess they were playing in the children's section of the library that she would hurt a three year old little boys feelings. I should have said a million things but I didn't.
I failed.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
An Ode to the UPS Man
Oh man in brown how my heart does beat faster when I hear the distant rumble of your truck. As you rumble up Cullom Way I do hope and pray that maybe today you will stop at my house again. Our visits are so brief, and yet they define my entire day. If your truck stops there is joy and expectation. If you rumble by my heart sinks and I remind myself that tomorrow is another day and perhaps then will I see you upon my doorstep.
I watch you pull to a stop and then rummage in the back for what is only moments but seems like a lifetime to see what kind of box will be pulled from the cavern of goodness. You jog to my door in your jaunty little shorts. As the doorbell rings I know you hear my squeals of delight even as you are heading back on your way. What is it today? My latest ebay find? The monthly delivery from diapers.com (each box containing over 400 diapers for the littlest bums in the house)? Gymboree? Garnet Hill? Athleta? Or a rare and unexpected gift from someone who knows me too well?
Oh UPS man, my heart does long for your visits. But if you pass me by on your 10:30 a.m. run I know I still have a shot at the 5:00 p.m. run and so I wait. I wait.
P.S. Just an aside that it is SO not cool when you pull up and then run across the street to the neighbors. Its enough to send me for the box of wine.
I watch you pull to a stop and then rummage in the back for what is only moments but seems like a lifetime to see what kind of box will be pulled from the cavern of goodness. You jog to my door in your jaunty little shorts. As the doorbell rings I know you hear my squeals of delight even as you are heading back on your way. What is it today? My latest ebay find? The monthly delivery from diapers.com (each box containing over 400 diapers for the littlest bums in the house)? Gymboree? Garnet Hill? Athleta? Or a rare and unexpected gift from someone who knows me too well?
Oh UPS man, my heart does long for your visits. But if you pass me by on your 10:30 a.m. run I know I still have a shot at the 5:00 p.m. run and so I wait. I wait.
P.S. Just an aside that it is SO not cool when you pull up and then run across the street to the neighbors. Its enough to send me for the box of wine.
Monday, May 12, 2008
Just another day
Sometimes I get stuck with this blog because I think I either have to come up with something hilarious or profound in order to post it. Then I remind myself this is my blog dangit and if I want to write mindless drivel I can. No one out there is being forced to read this (although I'm honored that there are three of you who do).
Ok, I'll get off my soap box now. Today was great. It was great because exactly one week ago today Monday was my day of insanity and just seven days later none of the activities have changed but the addition of the dad back into the household made our Monday downright enjoyable (I know this sentence is a grammatical nightmare - if it bothers you quit reading). From preschool to the gym, a chance to catch up with a friend over coffee, umpteen loads of laundry, finishing up a MOMS club scrapbook project, ordering a cake for a shower I'm hosting this weekend, swinging by the post office, organizing an event at Books-A-Million, being a listening ear to a neighbor in crisis, and finally swim lessons, a hurried shower at the Y, Chick-fil-A in the car and then bed . . . the day never stopped. But with Ryan to help it was great rather then a huge headache (then or than . . . one of my greatest grammatical quandrys). And Ryan even got a chance to hit a couple of buckets of balls while I stayed home and made chocolate chip cookies! What a day. I'm so grateful for my crazy busy life and most of all for each day we are blessed to have Ryan home with us!
Ok, I'll get off my soap box now. Today was great. It was great because exactly one week ago today Monday was my day of insanity and just seven days later none of the activities have changed but the addition of the dad back into the household made our Monday downright enjoyable (I know this sentence is a grammatical nightmare - if it bothers you quit reading). From preschool to the gym, a chance to catch up with a friend over coffee, umpteen loads of laundry, finishing up a MOMS club scrapbook project, ordering a cake for a shower I'm hosting this weekend, swinging by the post office, organizing an event at Books-A-Million, being a listening ear to a neighbor in crisis, and finally swim lessons, a hurried shower at the Y, Chick-fil-A in the car and then bed . . . the day never stopped. But with Ryan to help it was great rather then a huge headache (then or than . . . one of my greatest grammatical quandrys). And Ryan even got a chance to hit a couple of buckets of balls while I stayed home and made chocolate chip cookies! What a day. I'm so grateful for my crazy busy life and most of all for each day we are blessed to have Ryan home with us!
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Overheard at our house . . .
Scene: Jake is in the bathroom and I'm in the playroom
Jake: "1, 2, 3, 3, 4 . . ."
Me: "Jake, watcha doin'?"
Jake: "Counting my poops mom."
Nice.
Jake: "1, 2, 3, 3, 4 . . ."
Me: "Jake, watcha doin'?"
Jake: "Counting my poops mom."
Nice.
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
You have to laugh
So, yesterday was the big day of Ryan's return. Even though its only been a couple months since we'd last seen him (he was home for Reid's birth) it was still a big deal and we could celebrate the first time to really have him home in 8 months. In true Lacey form I wanted everything to be perfect. I wanted the lawn cut, house immaculate, children clean, well-mannered and speaking in three languages and for him to find a beautiful, polished and fit wife who breezed through the whole thing effortlessly. Which is ridiculous and I know it. I know I should show him the "gritty reality" (sorry, this is a favorite phrase in our house and if you want the back story I'll try to post it soon) of life when he is gone so he can feel even more sorry for me but I just don't work like that.
On Sunday night I knew from Ryan that they should be arriving sometime Monday afternoon or evening but not much else. I sent an email to my FRG (Family Readiness Group) leader to ask if she had more info and she replied that she didn't but she'd try to find out. So, Monday dawns and I get a phone call bright and early to tell me that Ryan is definitely on the flight (uh, good, because if not I'm going to have a lot of explaining to do to Jake) and that they should be arriving at 6:45. Now here is where it gets funny. Samarie (the FRG lady) is Puerto Rican. She has a heavy accent. And I don't do well with accents. So I ask her where we are meeting the guys and she tells me at the airfield (this I can understand) but from that point on I only understood every fourth word and had to make her repeat EVERYTHING she said. And she is giving me directions so its just ridiculous. "Go down towards the airfield and when you see the big plane, turn (me: What big plane?) Then you'll see a tank and turn (me: which direction - and is there more then one tank or will it be obvious). And there will be a building and its there (me: ok, if I know anything about Ft. Campbell its that there are approximately 1.73 million buildings and I have a feeling it will NOT be clear which one I'm supposed to go in)".
Right. Come again?!?! If this is the best directions I'm getting then I know I'm screwed.
At that time my friends Garrett and Kimiko call and I ask them for guidance thinking surely there must be an easier way to describe the location to me. Garrett is in the background giving Kimko directions to relay to me and I hear him say "Tell her to turn right at the big plane and then look for the tank with the missile and after that she'll turn left."
At this point I started laughing out loud. Oh, the tank WITH the missile . . . why didn't Samarie just say that in the first place. Now it all makes sense (thick sarcasm here in case you were wondering).
Finally I figure out where I'm going and I go about my day preparing for their arrival at 6:45. At 3 I get a call from Ryan letting me know they are in Fort Bragg. I tell him we'll see him in a few hours and he sounds surprised saying that they are getting ready to get back on the plane to come. I freak out, call our FRG sponsor and ask her if she knows anything. She in turn sets off a chain of calls that go up the ladder and then back down to me. She starts off saying "how fast can you get here" and I say "oh crap". I start running around, throwing kids in the bathtub left and right, trying to curl my hair into place, trying to find pants that fit, sweating profusely, all the while Reid is hanging off me trying to eat. It was insane.
So, now that you are all in suspense I can end this story by letting you know it was a wonderful homecoming, we arrived just in time, anyone else that made it in time was there because Ryan had called me and set things in motion . . . and we are thrilled to be back together.
Gotta love the Army!
On Sunday night I knew from Ryan that they should be arriving sometime Monday afternoon or evening but not much else. I sent an email to my FRG (Family Readiness Group) leader to ask if she had more info and she replied that she didn't but she'd try to find out. So, Monday dawns and I get a phone call bright and early to tell me that Ryan is definitely on the flight (uh, good, because if not I'm going to have a lot of explaining to do to Jake) and that they should be arriving at 6:45. Now here is where it gets funny. Samarie (the FRG lady) is Puerto Rican. She has a heavy accent. And I don't do well with accents. So I ask her where we are meeting the guys and she tells me at the airfield (this I can understand) but from that point on I only understood every fourth word and had to make her repeat EVERYTHING she said. And she is giving me directions so its just ridiculous. "Go down towards the airfield and when you see the big plane, turn (me: What big plane?) Then you'll see a tank and turn (me: which direction - and is there more then one tank or will it be obvious). And there will be a building and its there (me: ok, if I know anything about Ft. Campbell its that there are approximately 1.73 million buildings and I have a feeling it will NOT be clear which one I'm supposed to go in)".
Right. Come again?!?! If this is the best directions I'm getting then I know I'm screwed.
At that time my friends Garrett and Kimiko call and I ask them for guidance thinking surely there must be an easier way to describe the location to me. Garrett is in the background giving Kimko directions to relay to me and I hear him say "Tell her to turn right at the big plane and then look for the tank with the missile and after that she'll turn left."
At this point I started laughing out loud. Oh, the tank WITH the missile . . . why didn't Samarie just say that in the first place. Now it all makes sense (thick sarcasm here in case you were wondering).
Finally I figure out where I'm going and I go about my day preparing for their arrival at 6:45. At 3 I get a call from Ryan letting me know they are in Fort Bragg. I tell him we'll see him in a few hours and he sounds surprised saying that they are getting ready to get back on the plane to come. I freak out, call our FRG sponsor and ask her if she knows anything. She in turn sets off a chain of calls that go up the ladder and then back down to me. She starts off saying "how fast can you get here" and I say "oh crap". I start running around, throwing kids in the bathtub left and right, trying to curl my hair into place, trying to find pants that fit, sweating profusely, all the while Reid is hanging off me trying to eat. It was insane.
So, now that you are all in suspense I can end this story by letting you know it was a wonderful homecoming, we arrived just in time, anyone else that made it in time was there because Ryan had called me and set things in motion . . . and we are thrilled to be back together.
Gotta love the Army!
Friday, May 2, 2008
The mind of Lacey
As I ponder life there are a few things I would change if I could:
- That I could use the term holla without sounding ridiculous
- That my best hair days didn’t always happen when I have nowhere to go.
- That my three year old didn’t have a somewhat alarming obsession with my boobs.
- That Clarksville had a Panera Bread.
- That I didn’t have to give my kids a bath every night while balancing Reid on my knee (or worse yet nursing him).
- Sometimes I wish Jake hadn’t learned to talk but only when I’m being a BAD mommy (but I get tired of hearing “mom I have something to tell you” 500 times a minute).
- That my baby’s growth spurts didn’t always seem to happen near the beginning of a super-mega-enormous box of very expensive diapers.
- That’s it because I’m sleepy.
- That I could use the term holla without sounding ridiculous
- That my best hair days didn’t always happen when I have nowhere to go.
- That my three year old didn’t have a somewhat alarming obsession with my boobs.
- That Clarksville had a Panera Bread.
- That I didn’t have to give my kids a bath every night while balancing Reid on my knee (or worse yet nursing him).
- Sometimes I wish Jake hadn’t learned to talk but only when I’m being a BAD mommy (but I get tired of hearing “mom I have something to tell you” 500 times a minute).
- That my baby’s growth spurts didn’t always seem to happen near the beginning of a super-mega-enormous box of very expensive diapers.
- That’s it because I’m sleepy.
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Three Tags
Today I was at the Y running on the treadmill. I pulled on the sleeve of my shirt to wipe off my sweat and as I did I glanced down at my t-shirt. Sticking to my shirt were the three tags I was given when I dropped each of my children off at child care. One for each kid. Once again I was overwhelmed with how blessed I am to have been given these three precious kids. Its in the most inane things that I find myself speechless that God has trusted me with so much. I don't know what it is about the number three but it blows me away in every sense of the word.
As I continued my run I would occasionally glance up and a woman on the elliptical in front of me caught my eye. She had on an adorable outfit, her ponytail was perfect and she had a cute figure with no sign of varicose veins to be seen. I could have been jealous but the only thought that popped into my head was "I bet she doesn't have three tags." And as she finished up her leisurely workout and turned around I could see she didn't have any tags at all. And I thought to myself that I would take my poorly put together outfit, bag under my eyes, hair swept into a clippy look any day if that meant I got to have these three tags on my shirt. One for each precious blessing I've been given.
As I continued my run I would occasionally glance up and a woman on the elliptical in front of me caught my eye. She had on an adorable outfit, her ponytail was perfect and she had a cute figure with no sign of varicose veins to be seen. I could have been jealous but the only thought that popped into my head was "I bet she doesn't have three tags." And as she finished up her leisurely workout and turned around I could see she didn't have any tags at all. And I thought to myself that I would take my poorly put together outfit, bag under my eyes, hair swept into a clippy look any day if that meant I got to have these three tags on my shirt. One for each precious blessing I've been given.
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