Mean Joe Green Would Be Proud

Little Man and Daddy went to a local Bull Blast recently. Similar to a full on rodeo, a bull blast is just that; Bulls. All bull riding all the time. Cheap entertainment at its finest. One of the great thing about living in this part of the country is events like this are super family friendly. Hubs and Little man arrive at the event and head straight to the concession to stock up on junk food. As they are waiting in line; Little Man spots a penny on the ground. Hubs tells Little Man he should pick it up for good luck. The two find seats directly behind the shoots and proceed to mingle with the other audience members. Little Man quickly befriends an elderly bearded man, and begins to share the man’s popcorn with him.

The first rider enters looking like he has already been ridden hard and put away wet. Full mouth of chew and a goatee that would make Ted Nugent jealous, the cowboy give the crowd a nod. Little Man leans over to hubs and explains that he thinks hubs should give the lucky penny to that cowboy. Hubs coaxes Little Man into doing it himself if he feels that strongly about it. Little Man slowly rises and walks over to the surly looking rider. Without a word, Little Man reaches up over the gate with penny in hand. Although you would think the sound coming out of the man would be gruff and stern it was the opposite. "What is this for son", he asks Little Man. "It is a lucky penny; I think you need it more than I do". The man smiled, nodded, and was out the shoot.

As the cowboy walked by Little Man after being bucked off the bull, he tossed the penny back and said "thank buddy, I think that penny helped me ride longer". Little Man was so thrilled and beamed with delight the rest of the night. I am not sure which one I was more proud of, the cowboy or Little Man.

Absence Makes My Kids Annoying

My parents divorced when I was about eight years old.  Dad moved out but still lived in the city until a job transfer took him to St Louis and then Japan.  It seemed the farther away he was, the more I missed him. I try to remember that longing for my father when I see my boys missing someone they love.  Recently Little Man has been missing my parents more than usual.  Hub's parents live in town so we see them more often than we see mine. I regularly hear Little Man tell me he wants to go to Washington DC to visit Nana and Papa or drive to see Grand-daddy and Phi Phi.  I hear the two of them playing and pulling their suitcases behind them saying they are going to the airport to visit one set of grandparents or the other.

The other day Hub's brother came in from Kansas City for the day.  The trip is usually a three hour drive, but it took Uncle Adam about an hour to take his first solo flight at that distance.  The boys were so excited to not only see the airplane that their very own uncle flew, but even more to see Uncle Adam.  The boys have always had a fondness for Adam but his recent move to KC has strengthened their admiration.

We met Adam at the airport before he took off and the boys loved on him and looked at the plane.  Little Man helped Adam prepare for flight and then we all watched him take off.  The boys had a great time and I was so happy they got to see him but the aftermath of the visit lasted until they went to bed.

Before we even got in the truck to leave the airport:

The Babe: "Mommy, where is Uncle Adam?"

Me: "He is up in the air on his way home"

Little Man: "Mommy, where is Uncle Adam going"

Me: "He is going back home to see Amy"

The Babe: "I WANT TO SEE UNCLE ADAM!"

Little Man: "Where is Amy"

The Babe: "I WANT TO SEE AMY"

The Babe: "Does Amy have a puppy Mommy?"

Little Man: "Can we drive to KC to see Uncle Adam Mommy?"

Me: “Well, KC is kind of far honey"

Little Man: “You don’t know how to get there do you Mommy?”

The Babe: "Where is Uncle Adam Mommy?"

The Babe: "I WANT TO SEE UNLCE ADAM MOMMY"

Rinse, Lather Repeat.

I just stopped answering after a while.

We all miss you Uncle Adam.

I May Be Crazy After All!

While living in North Carolina about ten years ago, I acquired what I considered allergies.  I constantly had a running nose; or "post nasal drip" and what I considered a "lump in my throat".  When I went to the doctor for advice, he politely explained I had what was once called "crazy lady syndrome".  Although my husband got a kick out of my diagnosis, I was not all that amused.  The doctor gave me some allergy meds that did not really work so I stopped taking them and just dealt with it.  When I moved to Florida, the lump in my throat miraculously disappeared; I was convinced that the Sunshine state was my heaven on earth and I would never leave.  For those of you that know me personally, you know that type of long term living arrangement is absolutely absurd.  Three years after making my eternal commitment to my newly beloved, hubs and I pack up with Little Man and head north again.  To my dismay, the lump is back.  I am certain I am crazy now.

So I started doing a little research on Google University to see what I could find that would suit my liking.  What I found was startling.  Could it be that I have Globus Hystericus after all?  If so, this explains so much!  I was particularly taken by the line "classic sign of hysterical neurosis"  I should really stay off the internet.

You Never Get a Second Chance...

I have been thinking about something someone said recently.  I normally don’t really listen to him ( ☺ ) but this little tid bit got me thinking.  He was doing some research for something (see how much I pay attention) related to first impressions.  I don’t remember the specifics, but he said something about how when you meet someone for the first time we are worried that our new acquaintance focuses on our less flattering characteristics.  I considered this idea and was really less worried about what the other person was thinking about me and thought more of how I feel about myself.  When I meet someone new, I tend to focus on characteristics about them that I either like or that I wish I had.  These characteristics could be mental or physical.  I am drawn to positive people with upbeat personalities.  I am a firm believer that you need to be around others that lift you up and make you want to be better.  With that said, I tend to recognize pretty quickly when I meet someone new whether I am going to have to put it all the effort to do the lifting. When it comes to physical characteristics it varies with gender.  When meeting a man for the first time I notice his handshake and his eyes.  I cannot stand it, let me repeat, cannot stand it when I shake a man's hand and he either over compensates for something by squeezing my hand like the hulk, or shakes my hand like a fish because he is either a wuss or is afraid of "intimidating" me.  The next thing I notice about my new man friend is his eyes.  They say the eyes are the window to the soul and I truly believe this.  Does my new friend look me in the eye or look away?  We could argue the reasons for this but it is something to which I pay attention.  Of course I notice things like color and size but I pay particular attention to the quality of the eye.  Are his eyes dull or do they have a hint of a mischievous sparkle?  I must say I tend to gravitate towards those with a little mystery; after all, he sparkle and the firm handshake could indicate a long term friendship.  A guy with dull eyes and a floppy fish handshake that won't look at me when speaking may require too much effort on my part.

Meeting woman is a completely different game.  This is where my insecurities come in; rather than wonder what they think of me, I think about how I don’t measure up to them.  If they possess something I wish I have I tend to focus on that; particularly physically.  Two children have had their way with my body and as I age I tend to compare myself to others.  I know, I know.  I should not do this, but who doesn't?  For example; I am a boob girl.  Since having my second child I am not satisfied with that part of my body and am I seriously considering plastic surgery. When I meet a woman that looks like she may have made this choice also, I want to ask her about it.  To my husband's delight, I am in constant research mode and talk to him about the size of other woman's breast regularly.  Funny thing about meeting women is I know pretty quickly if we will get along.  Most of you out there will agree.  You either click or you do not.  I will admit though, I have met woman I thought I would not like to later realize they were having a bad day, etc. and we became friends later.  There are always exceptions to the rule.

So what do you think? Do you worry about what others think of you or are you too worried about your own insecurities to think about them? What do you think they focus on and what do you focus on when meeting someone new?

Inside Scoop

Some people are born to do something, while others may follow in the footsteps of their parents.  Some people are fortunate enough to have some sort of talent that provides them a catalyst to their future.  Then there are the lucky ones that have a passion for something that drives them from birth.  You know the ones I am talking about, the one in kindergarten that knew he wanted to be a doctor; or like a classmate I had, a male stripper.  I did not fit any of these molds.  Sure, I had some musical talent, but not without too much effort as far as I was concerned.  My parents did not really have profession to pass on to me, and I am still looking for my one true passion.

When I was a kid though, I loved to snoop.  Not only did I love trying to read my sister's diary; I loved to interview people.  I had a little tape recorder that I carried with me everywhere.  I would imitate Howard Cosell and berate my family and friends with questions.  Don't get me wrong, I am still nosey; but I wonder what would have happened if that had been nurtured as a child?

Anyway, in my attempt to get some scoop; I asked my four year old some questions about his mommy.  This is what I found out:

1. What is something mommy always says to you? I love you


2. What makes mommy happy? Hugs


3. What makes mommy sad? Kicking


4. How does your mom make you laugh? She smiles


5. What was your mom like as a child? She played with toys


6. How old is your mom? 15


7. How tall is your mom? 40 feet tall


8. What is her favorite thing to do? Play with toys


9. What does your mom do when you're not around? Go outside


10. If your mom becomes famous, what will it be for? A Rock star


11. What is your mom really good at? Going to work and bring me food


12. What is your mom not very good at? Remembering her wallet (not sure what this is about)


13. What does your mom do for her job? Play with toys (gadgets maybe)


14. What's your mom's favorite food? Pizza (that is his favorite food)


15. What makes you proud of your mom? How she hangs pictures (we just hung some new pictures before the interview)


16. If your mom were a cartoon character, who would she be? Wonder Woman (no kidding!)

Jesus, Sex, The Easter Bunny and Other Bedtime Stories

It started innocently enough. Little Man and I had just returned from the store and he was getting ready to go to sleep. He brushed his teeth and hopped into bed. I laid down next to him to talk about his day and the conversation naturally turned to Easter since we just saw all the Easter crap on the shelves at the store. I started to remind Little Man about the meaning of Easter; you know how on the third day He rose again in accordance with scripture and all. This is where things got a little tricky. You see, Little Man is learning about death and reminds me regularly that my Nana Peggy is dead and that he misses all the Papa’s he never met because they are dead. You can imagine me trying to back pedal and explain that not everyone gets to just come back after they die. I had to explain that dead is forever. Little Man was curious and asked some questions about Jesus and God and what they did. I explained to him what I was taught, and what our family believes. Little Man, being ever the detail oriented first born asks “what if you slam your hand in a door and break it off; can He put it back on?”. I would have rather been in the midst of the most descriptive birds and bees talk with my four year old than where I was at that point. I think sex would have been a much easier topic. It helps that I know more about sex than religion; after all, I did have sex twice. At least that is what I tell my father; two times, two kids, that’s it Daddy.