“You may not control all the events that happen to you, but you can decide not to be reduced by them. Try to be a rainbow in someone else’s cloud. Do not complain. Make every effort to change things you do not like. If you cannot make a change, change the way you have been thinking. You might find a new solution.”
Maya Angelou
Category: the girls
Killer
So I emerge into the living room after cleaning the bathroom. I see BethyGirl2 boxing on the Wii. I wonder where BethyGirl1 is, I haven’t seen her in awhile. I go to her bedroom, she’s relaxed on the bed watching videos on her iTouch. I say, “Hey are you going to DO anything today?” – just like a mom. And she says,
“Yeah it’s just…I have these killer hiccups right now, and it makes it hard to….. move.”
Totally understandable.
Okay then…
Wisdom from my Starbucks cup o’tea (Berryblossom White) this evening:
You can learn a lot more from
listening than you can from talking.
Find someone with whom you
don’t agree in the slightest and ask
them to explain themselves at
length. Then take a seat, shut your
mouth, and don’t argue back. It’s
physically impossible to listen with
your mouth open.
-John Moe, Radio host and author of Conservatize Me.
I start my new job tomorrow! More money, weekends off, way more time with my girls, and lovely people to work with. I’m really excited. Oh. and I get to actually sit down. Hope that doesn’t affect the derriere…
Every day is Mother’s Day
So. Today is Mother’s Day.
I couldn’t go home to see my mom this weekend, because of BethyGirl2’s soccer game last night, and a project due on Monday morning. (By the way, she scored her first goal ever. Proud mommy am I.) It was just too hard to squeeze in 8 hours on the road. I know Mom understands, but I was pretty bummed about not seeing her.
In my weird techygeekgirl way, I decided to change up my myspace a little… you know, change my default pic to a “Mom and me” pose… and then realized that as my song, I had Hot in Herre by Jenny Owen Youngs. Not exactly jiving with the mom/daughter theme, if you get my drift. I proceeded to embark on a wild goose chase through myspace music to try and find a song that even remotely had to do with motherhood and its virtues… of course, one with some essence of cool about it. Because that’s how I roll.
But I digress.
I ended up going through my favorites, and found this song by Rosie Thomas. I had always liked how it sounded, but hadn’t really taken the lyrics in. (Which is sort of odd for me, because I’m usually very lyriccentric. yes I just made up a word…)
Gah. too much coffee tonight, I can’t seem to stay on track. Here’s the song, and just in case you’re on your way to a fire and can’t take the time to watch the video, here are the lyrics.
If you had any sort of awkward childhood, I think you’ll be able to relate to this song. Shoot, my own father told me that he thought I had the ‘longest awkward period in the history of awkward periods.’ Nice, huh? 😉 He’s right, by the way. (Love you, Pop.)
So. After watching and listening to the song, I really started thinking about how supportive my mom has been, not just in the past few years, which have been very tough, but throughout all of my strange, timid, geekorama existence.
Thanks mom…
for volunteering in my class,
being my girl scout leader,
teaching my ccd classes,
putting notes in my lunchbox,
giving the evil eye to the horrid popular girls in junior high,
making me list 10 good things about myself when I was 13,
talking to me and making sure that I knew I could talk to you,
paying mucho bucks for cheerleading camp and uniforms,
chaperoning my senior trip and somehow still being cool,
making me want to go to college,
paying for college,
paying for my wedding,
loving my girls,
loving me even when I wrote that awful letter (out of love, but still…),
respecting my choices even when you disagreed,
and supporting me in every single possible manner during the last 3 years, which have easily been the most character building of my 34 years of life.
There is absolutely no way that I could repay what you’ve given me. Having you for a mom is a privilege and a blessing.
Happy Mother’s Day.
Beef jerky, sugar babies, soccer, and Ron Paul
Aah. SugarBabies. Candy of choice for BethyGirl2. BethyGirl1 chose beef jerky. (Don’t ask, it’s junk food Friday, she’s allowed.) After a week of staying up til 3am typing 5th grade research papers, and arguing with hardheaded oldschool educators, today was a much deserved sigh of relief. Junk food Friday was welcomed with open arms fo sho. School’s almost out, and everyone in my house can’t wait til it’s done.
Last soccer game of the season tonight. They haven’t won one yet, and even though that’s not the most important thing, it would be really nice to go out with a win. I’ll be cheering my soccermommy head off. You do that too, k?
And last but not least, on this extremely random and sleepy day, I’ve discovered Ron Paul, one of the Republican nominee hopefuls. I really like this guy, and so, of course, I’d like to share him with you all. Cause I love you so. 🙂
He’s got more subscribers on youtube than any of the other nominees. I’m proud n stuff. Here’s a sampling of him on Bill Maher… I think ol’ Bill expected to make him look stupid, but the audience seemed to like what he had to say. What do you think?
“A bad job is better than no job at all…”??? No, Bill, I don’t think that….
and here he is at the Republican Debate~
Food for thought.
xoxo
venting, sans the Jesus tee.
Hi.
I’m irritated beyond belief, and I’m going to vent.I just got back from a pool party for BethyGirl1’s class at school. Now, keep in mind, she spent last night with BethyEx.I’m at the pool, lots of parents and kids milling around, they’re all getting ready to go swimming. I’m in the middle of a conversation with BethyGirl1’s teacher, and out of the corner of my eye, I see BethyGirl1 on her way to the pool. With a humongous Jesus t-shirt on over her bathing suit. She proceeds to get in the pool with the shirt on.I walk over, and tell her the the wet shirt is probably making her colder, with it sticking to her and all, and she says, “No, mama, I’m being modest.”
This is the same child who, when I pulled a tank top out of the dryer for her to wear one Saturday, cried and refused to wear it.
And her sister pulled the same stunt about a pair of regular (not too short) shorts.
Now.
I’m all in favor of modesty. But I KNOW that this comes from the ex and his ‘group’. And to be completely honest, it looked ridiculous, and called attention to her in the way that a normal bathing suit never would have.
I was seething, and kind of still am. Not necessarily about this one incident (although, yeah it bugs me,) but also for what he has put into her brain about what modesty means.
Am I overreacting? Last time I checked, here’s the definition of modesty:
mod·est 
(mŏd’ĭst) Pronunciation Key
adj.
- Having or showing a moderate estimation of one’s own talents, abilities, and value.
- Having or proceeding from a disinclination to call attention to oneself; retiring or diffident. See Synonyms at shy1.
- Observing conventional proprieties in speech, behavior, or dress.
- Free from showiness or ostentation; unpretentious. See Synonyms at plain.
- Moderate or limited in size, quantity, or range; not extreme: a modest price; a newspaper with a modest circulation.
Tell you what.
Put a virgin in a tight mini and halter, and a slut in an ankle length dress. Observe them for 15 minutes, and I bet you can tell who’s who. Modesty is more about actions and attitude, and much less about the clothes one chooses. Especially when you’re 11.
*sigh.
I’m only home for a few hours, really,
so here’s a video to tide you over. I’ll be at Disney with my parents if you need me. Which I’m sure you do.
And Happy Birthday to my Abby. OH gosh. 11 years ago I was 180 lbs, bent over the bathtub washing my hair, because I was in labor and wanted to look good at the hospital. Funny.
Junk food friday gone awry
So let’s recap a little. It’s been a rough couple of days. I might not have detailed it all.
- Yesterday was Take Your Child to Work Day. So the BethyEx took both girls to the office with him.
- BethyGirl1 started running a fever, so she slept on the floor of BethyEx’s office til I could get there.
- …which kept her from going to school today
- …which in turn, made me postpone BethyGirl1’s 11th birthday party to next Saturday, instead of tomorrow.
yeah, I know, bad luck, huh? I’m not sure I can wait a full week for the hubbub. It’s going to be the most spectacular bowling party evah. You know it.
So, BethyGirl1 is a bit bummed about missing her party, although she understands. We played Mancala all day to make up for it. I love that game, so addictive.
We go to pick BethyGirl2 up from school, pick up Icees and candy bars (junk food Friday), and go home to prep for, yes, you guessed it, soccer! I had gotten an email from the coach that the game was at a different field today, in Winter Park (see map below)… so I, like the fabulous and uber-prepared mother that I am, printed up a map detailing how I was to get there. Easy, right? no.
Look at this map. Really look at it.
See all those roads? I drove on every frickin one of them. Every one. And could not find a huge, several acre tract of land that had 8 year old soccer players on it. I drove around for 45 minutes, searching for a little black and white ball, or even, heck, a solitary ponytail blowing in the wind. I would have been ecstatic. But nothing. Irritated to high heaven, I was. At the coach, for having the game at some weird random not-our-usual field, at myself, for neglecting to put the coach’s phone number in my phone, at the bethyex for being at some church meeting instead of watching his daughter play soccer. So I’m doing the standard inner fuming, when I hear, from the back seat,
“I wish the world wouldn’t always jump on top of us…”
At that point, I stopped. We were 25 minutes late for the game. She might not even get to play.
So I put some Cyndi Lauper in the cd player, turned it up, found I-4, and we went out to dinner. And then came home and played Mancala some more. And we all felt better.
I don’t want to forget, ever, that sometimes my 8 year old girl, whose mommy and daddy just got divorced, and who just moved away from all of her friends, sometimes feels like the world is jumping on top of her.
First runner up
Hi there.
So, I’m lazy today, and have stuff that I want to write about. Mostly concerning Miss Americas who are busy fighting crime. However, I honestly don’t have the energy to whip my brain cells into shape.
You get a slideshow instead.
🙂
Saturdays. yay.
Ok, so I’m off to a Build-a-Bear Birthday Party (say that 5 times fast) and then home to take a nap. I’m preparing for a short but late shift tonight working for The Mouse. It’s Grad Nite, a basically-all-nite party for Florida high school seniors. I get to dress up in my lovely Adventureland costume, (complete with red MC Hammer, aka Agrahammer, pants) listen to music, and police a bunch of 17 & 18 year olds. And believe it or not, I’m pretty excited about it. Shouldn’t be too much traffic where I am, so I anticipate a lot of cast member goof offness. Last night Mickey rode Aladdin’s Magic Carpets. I’m hoping he makes another visit tonight. Fun fun. I’ll be working at least til 2:30am (sigh) and possibly 4:30 if I can convince them to let me stay and get paid for a few more hours.
Then up in the morning to go to mass, because, apparently, the good catholic girl in me is starting to reappear.
…and if I don’t get off the computer right this second, I’m going to be late for bear building. You guys be safe out there on the information superhighway. Smooches to you, and happy shooting.
Sha-pow! 