A Case of Mistaken Identity

Over the weekend, we started decorating the house for Christmas. Pumpkin and Cookie are still young and Christmas holds magic, wonder and pretty lights everywhere. Driving anywhere around this time of the year elicits all sorts of oohs and ahhs from the backseat as they see lights on houses and other holiday décor. It’s so much fun to see them get excited.

In the midst of all this decorating, I began setting up the nativity scene. Cookie was watching me very intently as I carefully arranged the three kings, the shepherd and the animals, and Mary and Joseph surrounding Baby Jesus. Then, I placed the Angel at the back and Cookie gasps! She is so excited and shouts out, “It’s Tinkerbell!”

Really? No such reaction about the tree and all the ornaments, the lights on the house that Daddy and Weasel put up, or even the Santa Claus stuff everywhere? Cookie goes bonkers over the “fairy” in the nativity scene.

Somehow, Hark! The Herald Tinkerbell Sings just doesn’t have the same feeling.

Happy Thanksgiving from the Lily Pad!

Girl-Card

When I was a little girl, I was the boy my father never had. I was always the one helping him work on the cars, fetching tools and holding the flashlight. Somewhere along the way, I developed the notion that I could do anything. If Daddy could do it, surely I could. I’m much smarter and much prettier than that man. :)

No really…

Yesterday, Hubs noticed my tire was flat before he left for work. He kindly aired it up and promised to look at it that evening. I made it to work just fine, but when I got out of the car I realized the tire was making a strong hissing sound. Not a good sign. Seems I had run over a bolt at some point.

So I asked one of the strapping young heterosexual men at my office to change the tire. And I figured out the strangest thing… not everyone knows the most basic car tasks.

This young man couldn’t figure out how the jack worked. I just kept watching him fumble with it while I played my I’m-only-a-girl-and-I-don’t-know-how-to-do-this-stuff routine. After a while, I kindly suggested how he might do it.

Then, he was putting the jack in the wrong place. Really? I was stuck between still wanting to play my Girl-Card and being terrified that he was going to damage my car! So, I got out the book to look for suggestions… because I don’t know anything, remember?

Well, he fumbled with several other aspects of changing this tire. It was almost comical. I was sorry I asked him.

So, thanks Daddy, for letting me help you all those years. This young man apparently did not have the same experience. But it’s nice to know that if I had to, I could change a tire... and could probably figure out how to fix the transmission.

Of course, being a girl, I choose not to do these things. That’s one of the reasons I married Hubs, he can do these things just fine. Besides, if I started doing them now, I’d always be expected to do them. I don’t think so. I’ll hold onto my Girl-Card for a little longer.

Defining Points

I belong to this group of wonderful ladies. We get together at least once per month to drink, eat, drink, get some much needed socialization, and drink. The group can be lots of fun and there are many different personalities represented. We all have a great time together. We have been doing this regularly for about three years!

Well, in this group, I’m known as the BITCH! I have been given a sign to reflect this, and even a sash to commemorate my status (thanks, Dawn). I’m voted Bitch-of-the-Month nearly every month! But now I will use this forum to get the record straight!

So, let’s look at the definition:

bitch \ˈbich\: noun

1: the female of the dog or some other carnivorous mammals – okay, now I’m clearly not this type of bitch!

2a: a lewd or immoral woman – so, now I have to look up the definition of lewd to make sure I have it straight (evil, wicked, sexually unchaste, licentious). Nope… not me.

2b: a malicious, spiteful, or overbearing woman —sometimes used as a generalized term of abuse – now I guess this is the one they are thinking of when they use it to describe me. But I am not malicious, spiteful, although I can be overbearing… but always with a smile!

3 : something that is extremely difficult, objectionable, or unpleasant – like coming up with things to write about in a blog – again not me.

4: Complaint – Okay, this is what I’m doing right now.

I am not a BITCH as much as I am a SMARTASS. I have a quick wit and can usually come up with some remark to interject into a conversation. Some of these remarks are apparently not appreciated, but most at least find me humorous.

smart-ass \ˈsmärt-ˌas\, also smart aleck: adjective

a self-assertive person with pretensions to smartness or cleverness

Yea… now THAT’s me! Let’s keep it straight, people!

Please Excuse This Interruption

I have really enjoyed having this blog. It’s fun to vent about certain things, to laugh about certain things, or even to bitch about certain things. It’s just fun to share. And I think that some of the people that read it enjoy reading it. So, really, it’s a win-win situation.

 

EXCEPT, I get little to no feedback in the way of comments. So, I start to convince myself that no one is reading it. I might as well keep all of these observations in my head.

 

Then I stop posting for a few days, and I get lots of comments (on the telephone or in email) that I need to post again. And yesterday, Boog posted a comment that she was tired of not seeing a new post.

 

Well, here’s the deal, Readers. If you like what you read, you must post something. You can post a “ha” or “I read this one” or “you are an idiot” or anything. Otherwise, I have no way of knowing that anyone is reading anything.

 

Whew. Got that off my chest.

 

We now return you to your regular scheduled blog.

Confirm Your Confirmation

Over the weekend, we celebrated Pumpkin’s 5^th birthday with a little party at My Gym, a children’s fitness center. It was such fun. They do a great job at entertaining the kids and making the birthday girl feel special.

Everything was fine until I realized that the pizza I had ordered the previous day online had not been delivered. I quickly called the store, which had no record of the order. WHAT? I couldn’t believe it. I must have called the wrong store. But no… the guy assured me they would have delivered to our location.

I was so upset. I immediately boycotted that pizza chain and vowed never to return. I KNEW I placed the order. I KNEW I gave them my credit card and everything. I KNEW I didn’t make a mistake.

Hubs had to leave the party to run to the store to grab some food. He missed much of the festivities, including Pumpkin blowing out her candles. We were all upset. And someone was going to pay for this!

Well, upon my arrival at home, I went to the computer to pull my confirmation so that I could lodge a serious complaint. I figured we would have free pizza for a month! But, I found something else instead. I found the “submit” screen with an error message on top that our credit card information was not accepted. It seems I omitted a number when I entered the credit card information and my order was not processed. Um… oops.

All of this was my fault? I was the one that was going to pay? I did this? I should have known better. Clicking submit is not sufficient. You must get the confirmation!

And for all you reading this, Hubs is finding out that I was to blame as he reads my blog today. It was my fault that you missed so much of the party. And I’m so, so sorry. Please remember that For-Better-or-For-Worse vow you made.

In summation, always confirm your confirmation!

Secrets Told and Prayers Answered

Over the past weekend, the family and I spent the gorgeous autumn day at Gamma’s land in Lockhart, Texas. She was doing some improvements on her property and we didn’t want to miss the day outside.

Weasel and I were busy clearing some brush around some trees. I have some great pictures of my seemingly miserable and stoic son actually enjoying himself. Yes, he does still have a smile under that façade. It was a great, great day!

Well, in the midst of this wonderful outdoor day, I apparently lost my diamond pendant and necklace, which I wear 24/7. I freaked out! It was a very sentimental to me. Hubs had given it to me several years ago. I spent the next few hours walking around with my eyes glued to the ground. Surely, it has to be here somewhere. I kept visualizing myself finding it, but no such luck. I was so sad.

I had basically given up as it seemed just too daunting of a task to find a little gold trinket in all of the leaves and grass. We decided to borrow a metal detector the next day in the hopes that our luck would change. I was so scared that I would never see it again. But what else could I do? I just prayed to St. Anthony, the Patron Saint of Lost Things.

Well, when I got home and stripped to get into the shower, something falls out of my bra to the floor! I ran out of the bathroom (with my robe on, I might add) screaming for Hubs. He only hears me holler like that when I found a bug. And when he saw me with something clutched in my hand, he knew it was no bug. It was my pendant!

I still can’t believe that it was there all the time… in my bra! I guess I’m not the full C-cup that I thought I was. There seems to be a little more room in there for hiding! That seems to be the Secret that Victoria has been keeping from us all these years!

Thank you, St. Anthony. And thank you, Victoria.

Everything Changes Today

Today, I need to change my profile. I am no longer the mom of a four-year-old girl. Today, Pumpkin is FIVE! And we will be having a busy day this evening when we get home from work. According to her, everything changes today:

Now that she is five, she will ride her bicycle without training wheels. This is something she could do before, but felt more confident when Daddy put them back on her bike. She will do it all by herself tonight. Today, she is brave.

Now that she is five, she will not argue with her little sister anymore. She will be a grown-up and use her grown-up voice. She will not whine or pick on Cookie. Today, she is mature.

Now that she is five, she will help cook dinner every day. She wants to cook a whole meal for the family all by herself. Disregard the fact that she cannot quite read a recipe and hasn’t quite gotten the hang of fractions of a cup. Today, she is capable.

It seems even though she is now five, she hasn’t realized how much farther she has to go. There is plenty of time for her to be brave… to be mature… to be capable. (Although, between you and me, I would LOVE for those two girls to stop arguing).

Luckily, her mother is wise enough to know that she is only one day older than she was yesterday. But if she wants to think that everything changes today, go right ahead. I would love to be proven wrong.

Happy birthday, Pumpkin! Everything changed for me five years ago when you came into my life!

Would Have Loved to See Their Faces!

My older two kids haven’t much been into trick-or-treating for a few years. So, they hand out candy while Daddy and I take the little ones out in the neighborhood. This year, it was just Weasel handing out candy since Boog is busy doing the college thing. It was actually part of a punishment for Weasel, but I won’t go into the details of that here. Weasel handing out candy reminded us of some “tricks” he played a couple of years ago.

When Cookie was about one-year-old and eating solid foods, we attempted to feed her Vienna sausages. She would not eat them. Well, I had bought a case of them from Costco and had several cans left over. None of us would eat them, so they just collected dust in the pantry.

Weasel thought it would be funny to throw a can of Vienna sausages into the trick-or-treaters bags from time to time. He tried very hard to do it without them noticing. I think most of them went home without any suspicions.

We all had the image of these excited little kids still in their costumes dumping out their bag of loot on the living room floor. They are hoping that they got their favorites. When all of a sudden… what the heck? Is that a can of meat? Who in their right mind would hand out Vienna sausages to little kids?

Bwah-ha-ha!