Foot-Long Hot Dogs

I realized this morning that I haven’t blogged much about my coworkers.  I decided that it is a MUST because the stories will certainly keep you entertained.  Most of my interaction at the office centers on my good friend Bill, my coworker Mary (you learned about her in this post), and Bill’s coworker Nancy. 

Just a bit of history to start off.  Nancy is a man and of course “Nancy” is not his real name.  Bill and I have decided that “Nancy” is the perfect nickname for him (behind his back, of course).  I won’t say too much more, as I’ll let you form your own opinions of Nancy when you read stories in this and future posts.  Nancy is a 44-year-old married man with 2 children.  He is college educated and works in the finance industry.  That’s all I’m going to say. 

Here goes…

One day last week, Bill, Nancy and I were having lunch in the cafeteria as we normally do.  On that particular day, the cafeteria was having a cookout and offered various items for lunch that they prepared on the grill out on the deck.  The three of us gathered at the lunch table.  I packed my lunch that day.  Our conversation went something like this:

Nothing Fancy:  Did anyone check out the cookout menu?

Bill:  Yes.  They have burgers, ribs and foot-long hot dogs.

Nancy:  The hot dogs were really long.

Nothing Fancy:  A FOOT long?

Nancy:  At least!

Silence at the table as Bill and I bit our tongues, looked away and tried to keep from either bursting out laughing or making a snide remark.

Okay…so maybe if this was a one-time case of someone making a stupid comment without thinking, then it wouldn’t be soo bad.  Sadly, it’s not.  It’s Every.  Single.  Day.

Keep posted.  I’ve got a million of ‘em!

Changes

The Boy enters 6th grade and his first year at middle school in just two weeks.  That means lots of changes not only for The Boy, but for me too. 

Last night, Hubby and I discussed these changes and I expressed to him my sadness and worry about The Boy entering middle school. 

The Boy will need to get himself up, dressed, make breakfast, lock-up the house and catch the bus every morning.  This is a first for him.  In years past, we have taken him to a before/after school facility that transported him to and from school each day.  Now, Hubby and I leave the house at 6:30 am for work and The Boy won’t have to catch the bus until after 8:00 am.  That leaves a large margin for error (i.e.: oversleeping, dawdling and therefore missing the bus, catching the house on fire, etc.)

While at school, The Boy will experience lots of changes.  He will manage changing classes at the bell ring, figuring out that darn locker combination, changing clothes for gym class, showering after gym class and a host of other fun stuff.  He is also enrolled in several Honors courses that will be a challenge.

After school, he will attend the After School Program right on his school campus.  I was thrilled to find this opportunity and immediately enrolled him.  My thought was that he would be well supervised, have interaction with other children, an opportunity to complete homework and I wouldn’t need to worry about picking him up timely, if he chose to attend an after school club - he could go to the Program when club ended.  As luck would have it, the After School Program advised me yesterday that they would only provide the service on Monday, Wednesday and Friday.  Great.  So the new plan is that The Boy will attend the program on those days and ride the bus home on Tuesday and Thursday. 

Great again.  That leaves me with a host of new worries.  He’ll have to remember what day it is to know what to do, catch the bus home, let himself in the house and stay out of trouble until we get home.  I’m not worried about him getting into trouble, but am worried about him sitting around like a lump until we get home.  Needless to say, we’ll have some ground rules.  And there’s also the snow days/school closed situation to worry about.  Those days will leave The Boy home ALL day by himself.  Yikes!

Again, I expressed to Hubby my sadness, nervousness and worry about The Boy entering middle school.  Hubby just smiled at me and said, “You were sad and worried when The Boy entered Kindergarten.  You were sad and worried when he entered 1st grade.  You were sad and worried when he entered 2nd grade.  You were sad and worried when he entered 3rd grade.  You were sad and worried when he entered 4th grade.  And you were sad and worried when he entered 5th grade.  It all worked out fine.”

He’s right.  He usually is.  I worry too much. 

But that’s who I am. 

Such are the trials and tribulations of a working mom and all around worry wart.

Woulda, Shoulda, Coulda

Last week I had TWO days (6:30 am til 4:00 pm) all to myself.  That’s right.  Just me.  Alone.  By myself.  All day. 

Following is the list of things I should have accomplished.  In fact, I would have accomplished them if I just could have found some UMPH within myself.

1. Clean the bathrooms.
2. Vacuum the house.
3. Dust the house.
4. Clean the oven and refrigerator.
5. Pull weeds in the garden.
6. Update H’s and The Boy’s scrapbooks (I’m only 18 months behind).
7. Finish the laundry.
8. Do the grocery shopping.
9. Mop the floors.
10. Clean the porch and deck.

Now, here are the things I actually did accomplish.

1. Stayed in pajamas until 9:00 am both days and watched Mike and Mike in the Morning while sipping coffee and surfing the net. 
2. Took a long hot bath and leafed through magazines as I soaked in the tub.
3. Sat on screened porch and read Double Cross by James Patterson.
4. Slammed pictures together for 3 pages in H’s scrapbook (have I mentioned that I HATE scrap-booking?).
5. Laundry.
6. Spent a couple hours strolling around the outlet mall.  I pretended it was for exercise, but I was really making a wish list.
7. Bought a new pocketbook.
8. Blogged.
9. Talked to my sister, my husband and emailed friends.
10. Played Poppit on-line.

At first I felt like I had wasted my time to myself, but now as I read back over the list of things I accomplished, I can see that it is not true. 

I’m already craving my next day to myself.  Our screened porch and James Patterson’s 7th Heaven are calling my name!

More Stuff About Me

Midlife Slices did this on her blog, so I figured I’d give it a try as well.

I am: a wife, mother, daughter, sister, sister-in-law, aunt, niece, friend, colleague and risk analyst.  I am also shy, overly sensitive and sometimes stubborn.  I am easy on others and too hard on myself.

I think: way too much and way too hard, so that ‘think’ turns into ‘worry.’

I know: that my marriage is strong and fulfilling and I am very lucky to be able to say that.

I have: many acquaintances and few close friends.

I wish: everyone could just get along and be happy, I weren’t so shy, oh yeah…and that I would win the lottery.

I hate: scrap-booking, making phone calls, selfish people, and liars.

I miss: my mother and my brother (the brother I knew growing up).

I fear: dying and leaving my sons while they are young.

I hear: Golic and Greenie (of “Mike and Mike In The Morning”.  I’m a huge sports fanatic!)

I smell: coffee brewing.

I search: for things H has hidden.

I wonder: where my children will go to college, who they will marry and what their lives will be like as adults.

I regret: not wearing sunscreen on my face every single day from the time I was 2 years old.

I love: my family, friends, watching football, reading mystery novels, working jigsaw puzzles and shopping.

I ache: to have one more conversation with my mother.

I am not: very outgoing.

I believe: in the Golden Rule.

I dance: the Hokey Pokey with my son.  But I used to be a terrific two-stepper back in the day!

I sing: rarely.

I cry: too much.

I fight: the aging process, those nagging extra pounds and the urge to give up.

I win: every day in life, but rarely in contests.

I lose: composure when my feelings are hurt.

I never: go a day without telling my husband that I love him.

I always: am on time.

I confuse: birdie, bogey and all the rules of golf.

I listen: to learn.  My father always told me that I can learn alot more by listening than by talking.  He’s right.

I can usually be found: at home or at work.

I am scared: of losing my loved ones.

I am happy about: my work-life balance as I’ve finally found a job I enjoy.

I imagine: life without stress.

I tag: YOU!

Mother Of The Year?

My husband and I decided to forgo the family beach vacation plans this year.  H doesn’t travel well and doesn’t sleep well in new surroundings.  Hubby and I determined that a family beach vacation would be simply exhausting.  Instead, last week and this week I took leave from work in order to spend quality time at home with my sons.  Hubby’s work hours are crazy right now, so I thought it the perfect opportunity for me and the boys to really do some fun things together.

In one week I took both boys to the park, zoo, and county fair.  We also went to the pool 3 times and the entire family travelled out of town to an open house/pool party.  By Sunday, I was worn out.

How a family vacation to the beach could be more exhausting than this week at home, I’ll never know.  I’ll also never know how stay at home moms do this day in and day out.  They are a better woman than me, that’s for sure!

On Monday morning, this mother of the year sent H to daycare and informed The Boy that today’s activity would be a visit to the library and an afternoon of reading.  Thankfully, The Boy LOVES to read, so he was pleased with the game plan.  I was physically and mentally worn out from last week and couldn’t imagine another action packed day filled with H whining and The Boy hovering - in 95 degree heat.

I must admit that although I am exhausted and the thought of going back to work is starting to look pretty darn appealing, I have had fun.  The look on H’s face as we took the wagon ride at the petting zoo was simply priceless.  Both boys were amazed by the thrill show at the county fair, not to mention the magic show and of course the animals.  The pool is always a hit and seeing the joy in H’s face almost makes me forget about the giant fit he pitches when it’s time to leave.  All in all, the memories are priceless and totally worth the exhaustion.

The agenda for this week is much less aggressive.  The Boy and I will spend the day at the water park today (can you imagine me on a water slide?  ugh!), but will kick back with a movie tomorrow.  And as luck would have it, my dad called last night and has made some fun plans for he and The Boy for Thursday and Friday.  So…if I can shake off the guilt factor and take H to daycare on Thursday and/or Friday, I can actually have some time to myself.  I just hope and pray that I don’t spend that time cleaning or something silly like that. 

I’ll close this post with a hats off to all the stay-at-home moms out there.  You ladies are the ones who are mothers of the year.  I’m just treading water and hoping to create a fun memory or two for my boys.

Old Classmates and Skinny Necks

Several months ago I ran into a woman that I grew up with.  We grew up in the same small town and graduated from high school together.  I ran into her at the outlet mall near where I live.  Our conversation went something like this:

• Nothing Fancy:  Hi! It’s great to see you.  How’ve you been?
• High School Class Mate:  I’m good.  How are you?
• NF:  I’m doing well.  Are you still living in Hometown?
• HSCM:  Yes, I purchased my parents home.
• NF:  That sounds great.

After a little more chit-chat about work (she was out of work) and family (she was out of that too) we came to the close of our conversation, which went something like this:

• NF:  Well, it sure was nice to run into you.  You look great!
• HSCM:  Thanks.  Your neck is really skinny.

Silence.  Save for the distinct sound of crickets chirping.

Finally, I mustered up some sort of self-deprecating joke and we parted.

And for the record…It’s not like I just acquired my skinny neck.  It’s been skinny my entire life.  But this was most definitely the first time in 40 some odd years that someone has pointed it out to me…out of the blue.

People never cease to amaze me.

Yet Another Fashion Dilemma

My good friend, Kelly and her family have invited my family and me to an open house/cookout/poolside party at her mom’s house next weekend. 

I should start off with a little history for you.  Kelly and I met on line via a parenting forum.  We clicked and have become great friends.  We actually met live and in person last summer for the first time, which was really neat.  Since then, we’ve continued our on-line / email friendship.  She’s in England.  I’m in the States.  Not much opportunity to get together! 

Anyway, Kelly and her family will be in the States visiting family and friends for the next several weeks.  Kelly’s mom is hosting the above noted party.

Here’s my dilemma.

What the bleepity bleep do I wear to an Open House/Cookout/Poolside party?

Did I mention that Kelly is 29?  And gorgeous?  And nice?  And talented?  And 29?

Did I mention that I’m not?

Did I mention that I’m closer in age to Kelly’s mom than I am to Kelly?

Again with the question…What in the bleepity bleep do I wear to the party?

1. There is no way in this world that I will be wearing a bathing suit in front of Kelly and her 29-year old friends.  No way.
2. I need to wear something kid-friendly (is that really a fashion term?), as I will have my sons with me.
3. I need to wear something classy, as Kelly’s family is classy.
4. I need to wear something that will make me look youthful without looking like I’m trying to look youthful.
5. I need to wear something cool, as it will be hot.
6. I need to wear something that makes me look nice and sophisticated, as that is the facade image I try to create. 

See the dilemma?  This outfit does not exist.  Well, it exists for someone who is 29.  And gorgeous.  But not for a 40-something year old mother. 

I decided that I should purchase a nice pair of shorts and a blouse, so I went to Ann Taylor during my lunch break today.  I’m always pleased with how Ann Taylor’s clothes look on me and figured that might be my best shot of finding my classy, kid-friendly, effortlessly youthful, cool and sophisticated outfit. 

I was wrong.

Shorts are not the answer.  Too much cottage cheese.  I tried on several pair from the limited selection remaining and was not pleased (that’s putting it nicely). 

When I returned to the office, my husband called and asked if I purchased anything.  I told him that I did not and also told him my dilemma.  He laughed at me.  Can you believe it?  He doesn’t understand why I don’t want to take my swimsuit.  Hello?  I really don’t want to be standing around the pool in my granny swimsuit with my stuff sagging and jiggling everywhere while petite Kelly and her equally petite and gorgeous friends are running around in their taut 20-something bodies in bikinis.  Nope.  No way.  No thanks.

Sigh.

So I suppose I’ll scrounge up something from my closet.  My only hope is that no one brings a camera.

I so wish I could be like those women who just don’t care what they look like for any given occasion.

No.  I don’t really wish that.

So if any of you fashion experts are reading…post some ideas for me!

The Boy Is Perfect!

Okay…I’m exaggerating.  He’s not perfect.  BUT he did receive perfect scores on 3 out of 4 of his Standardized Tests.  Woo-Hoo!  Hip-Hip-Hooray!

We received The Boy’s test scores this week.  He passed the Science Standardized Test and received perfect scores on the Math, Reading and Writing tests.  Who does that?  What in the world?  I mean, really…who gets a perfect score on ANY standardized test, much less on THREE of them!!

I’m so proud.  And quite frankly, amazed.  I never see him study.  And if you check out this post, you’ll see that he’s quite forgetful.  And he’s most definitely the typical tween knucklehead.  How in the world does he do it? 

I did fairly well in school and I’m pretty darn good at Math, but perfect?  NO WAY. 

Needless to say, I’m very proud of him.  He worked hard in school this year and apparently is doing something right.  He really is a good kid.  A mother couldn’t ask for a nicer, sweeter kid than The Boy.

And just think…if he keeps this up, he could be looking at a full college scholarship!  In that case, I will be able to look forward to spending his college fund on Ann Taylor, Coach, Lexus, Kate Spade, Vera Bradley…

And then when he becomes a best selling author…ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…the good life!

A mother can dream, can’t she?

Way to go, sweet Boy.  I’m very proud of you…but then again, I always am and always will be.

The Worst Kind Of Shopping

Ladybeams recently blogged about the misery of shopping for a swimsuit.  I agree.  Shopping for and trying on swimsuits is easily one of the worst experiences a woman can endure.  I love to shop…for shoes…for pocketbooks…for clothes…for makeup…for jewelry…you name it.  Just don’t make me shop for a swimsuit.

However, there is one thing that is more painful, more frustrating and more difficult to shop for than a swimsuit.  All of you ladies know what I’m talking about.  It’s the elusive comfortable, proper-fitting, supportive, attractive and reasonably priced bra.  I am suspicious that it does not actually exist.  I know I’ve been searching long and hard for it since I was 12 years old, to no avail.

I’ve postponed shopping for a new bra long enough.  It’s not that my current bras are worn and out of shape.  It’s that they don’t fit.  Every single one of them is either too big or too small.  Shockingly they are all the same size.  Go figure.  Okay…I have one that fits nicely and pretty much gets the job done.  It’s purple.  And it’s lacy.  Not exactly a prime candidate for wearing to work under my white blouses. 

Now that I’m older, I need bras that can get the job done.  Long gone are the days of buying the pretty lacy things off the discount rack.  Sad day.

Yesterday I hit the lingerie department and fortunately, I had my little 20-month old helper with me.  I rummaged through the racks and grabbed anything I thought might do the trick in my size (and just to be sure…I grabbed various sizes over and under ‘my size.’).  I was pushing H’s stroller with one hand and grabbing bras with the other.  Meanwhile, H took off both his shoes and socks and threw his sippy cup somewhere.  Naturally, I spent the next 10 minutes retracing my steps to find said shoes, socks, and sippy cup.  Mission accomplished…so I jammed the shoes and socks in my pocketbook, balanced the sippy cup in the crook of my arm and continued grabbing bras.  At one point, I glanced down at H.  He was being so quiet and the perfect angel.  Well of course, he was.  He was smiling and having a ball playing with at least 5 pairs of the largest granny panties I’ve ever seen. 

Sigh.

Decision time.  Do I attempt to take the GIGANTIC granny panties away from him and risk the crying fit that might follow?  Or do I let him keep playing with them and risk my embarrassment should we run into someone we know or worse yet…risk him damaging them and then I’d have to buy them?  ARGH!  I opted for taking them away from him.  He was pretty cool about it, fortunately. 

I continued examining the bras and adding to my collection of ones I wanted to try on.  H continued grabbing panties.  It was a fun game.  Really, it was.  Yeah right.

Finally, when I could hold no more, H and I entered the fitting room.  For those of you who haven’t had the pleasure, just know that there is nothing more fun than trying on bras and doing so in front of your son.  As I tried on ill-fitting and torturous bras, H giggled and said “gootchy, gootchy, goo” over and over again.  Nothing beats having someone laugh at you while you’re trying on bras.  It’s simply the best.

So…after trying on no less than 20 bras, I left the store.  Empty-handed.

I’m going to try again today.  Without the helper.  Wish me luck.

Nicole Kidman And Keith Urban Welcome Sunday Rose

If you’re like me, you have read this headline or one similar to it at least a dozen times since Monday.  And if you’re like me, you couldn’t resist reading the entire article or announcement.

Most of the articles I read noted that Sunday Rose is the first child for Nicole Kidman and Keith Urban.  Yes, Sunday Rose is Keith Urban’s first child.  No, she is NOT Nicole Kidman’s first child.  Honestly?  I’m sick and tired of reading that Sunday Rose is Nicole Kidman’s first child.  And then as an afterthought, the media notes that Ms. Kidman has 2 adopted children with Tom Cruise.  NO…this is Nicole Kidman’s THIRD child.  Period. 

Seriously.  This infuriates me.  I have 2 children.  I don’t have one child and one adopted child.  I have 2 children.  Period.  To qualify Nicole’s 2 older children by consistently referring to them as her “adopted” children, is just wrong and insensitive.

Perhaps the media is merely following Nicole’s lead.  Prior to Sunday Rose’s birth on Monday, I read several interviews with Nicole in which she talked about her pregnancy.  In each interview, Nicole went on and on about her pregnancy, the magic of it all,  how wonderful it is to be pregnant, etc.  Is it just me or don’t you think she should have chosen to downplay it a little bit, considering the fact that she did not carry her two older children?   Then again, I suppose Connor and Isabella are used to it after their father’s excitement over his ‘first born’, Suri.

And while I’m on a roll…Sunday Rose?  The poor kid was born on a Monday, for crying out loud.  Not that Monday Rose would have been any better.