I got a late start this morning. When I came downstairs, Bill was already gone. Now I had heard him moving around in the kitchen while I was getting ready and assumed he was making lunches. I went downstairs and there were no lunches.
Me: Did daddy make your lunch?
Will: No.
Me: What was he doing down here?
Will: He was getting ready for work. Like watching TV. You know, the stuff you do to get ready.
He is so his father's son.
Dear Jack Bill,
Today you are one year older than you were yesterday. We both know that it's my fault you have a bit of an aging complex. You have come a long way in a year. Last year at this time, whenever you would find a gray hair on your head, you would make me pull it. Now you just accept that pulling them out is not going to stop. It's my wifely duty to remind you that it could be worse. You could be bald like your brother.
We've been together for what seems like freaking forever ten years. During those years, we've grown up together. We've grown together as individuals, as a couple, and as parents. There are so many things we've weathered together. From gray hair to moving out of state, we've done it.
I don't want to make you cry, but I have two things for you to think about. I will always be younger than you. I'm sorry about that. Really, I am not. The other thing is that I most likely will never get gray hair, so you'll have to get enough for the both of us. With a devil daughter like Kelsey, that should be no problem.
I want to thank you for not liking cake. At this moment, that is one of the top five things I love about you. Having two birthdays in our family within ten days wreaks hell when I'm trying to watch what I eat.
I hope that you've had the best day today. Will, Kelsey, and I started your day out by singing Happy Birthday this morning at 6:55. I will put you to sleep tonight singing the National Anthem. Consider it my birthday gift to you.
I love you.
Love,
Casee
Dear Will,
You are nine years old today. Nine. I can't believe that you are one year away from double digits.
You are the quietest member of our family and would let yourself fade into the background if we let you. You also have the kindest heart of any kid I have ever met. I know that I'm biased b/c I'm your mom, but you really do. There is nothing that you wouldn't do for someone you love. While I usually shudder to think of what kind of chaos your sister will bring to the world as an adult, I look forward to seeing what you accomplish. I wouldn't be surprised if you found a cure for cancer. Right now, you want to work at Roaring Springs when you grow up, but I know that won't last forever.
I went into labor with you at 4am on September 21st. That was your polite way of warning me that it was coming. I didn't go to the hospital until later that afternoon. You were born at 9:20pm at a whopping 8lbs. 11oz. We really didn't expect you to be that big. From that moment on, you've constantly done the unexpected. You say things like "Dinner smells delightful!" to "Pardon me, I just keep getting the words wrong today (while reading)". Hearing big words come out of your small little mouth is really one of the greatest joys. You never fail to make us smile.
Only a person like you could be such a great brother to Kelsey. She has no idea how lucky she is, but we will be sure to remind her.
Happy Birthday, Sweet William.
Love,
Mom
I believe in being prepared. When we go camping for four days, I pack Kelsey ten pairs of underwear. So it wasn't a surprise to me when I stepped out the door to go on my first run in over three months that I looked like a contestant on a hiking reality show gone wrong.
My sister recently came out for a visit. On her way out of town, she picked me up a bunch of Nike running gear for cheap. So I was armed with new shit all over the place. Since I'm generally allergic to the heat, I decided to run in the morning. I got dressed, put my new dri-fit tank on (along with my shorts) and was ready to roll.
Except I wasn't. It took me, like, 10 more minutes to get out the damn door. First I had to figure out how to get this on comfortably:
Then I had to go get my iPod out of the car. I was wondering where my Garmin was and knew I had let Kelsey use it on her bike (I don't know what I was thinking). Luckily, I found it (by complete accident of course), but the battery beeped and read "You have 0 hours of battery life remaining". Ah well, I wasn't planning to go far. It would last.
The hydration pack has two compartments, so I was saved from having to look for my arm band. After that, I had to adjust the pack and figure out exactly how it was supposed to rest. On your hip? On your waist? I filled it up with water, grabbed my sunglasses and was out the door.
Except I forgot my hat. So I came back in, went upstairs and got my hat. Went back outside. Forgot my sunglasses on the counter. Went back outside. I contemplated taking my phone (for safety purposes), but it's a freaking Blackberry. It weighs like 3 pounds.
By the time I turned the Garmin on so it could pick up the GPS, I already felt like I weighed an extra 20 pounds. In addition to the hydration back and water bottle, I had my watch on one wrist and my Garmin on another. Unfortunately for me, my Garmin is an old model. It doesn't look like a normal watch. And I forgot to take the damn battery charger clip off. I haven't decided on a good pair of running ear buds, so I had dangling cords. Even with all that, I set off in relatively good spirits, happy that I was finally able to do something.
The damn Garmin died at 0.75 miles.
I count on the Garmin not only to tell me how far I'm going, but what my pace is. If I don't have it, I don't run a steady pace. So I had to guess how far it was until I hit a mile. Which is really pathetic b/c I've run the route before. After running an errand, I eyed the odometer and realized I didn't even go the full two miles.
After all that shit, I didn't even go 2 miles. Mother-f-er.
Right now I'm reading Blaze of Memory by Nalini Singh. It's damn good. Therefore, I have to place the blame for what happened yesterday squarely on her shoulders. Sorry, Nalini. You shouldn't be such a good writer.
When Kelsey was about two years old, I decided to do away with the bangs. At that age, she actually let me clip her hair out of her eyes or put it in baby pigtails. Those days soon passed; as well as my willingness to let her hair grow long. When she was four or five, I got her hair cut. Short. I was sick of her hair being a nest to food, paint, gum, and various other things that young kids get into at that age. Having her hair cut short served two purposes. She didn't look like a homeless child and I didn't have to deal with her hair in the morning. Double bonus.
It started about eighteen months ago. The inevitable fight about her hair. She insisted that she wanted to grow it long. I was just as adamant that it wasn't.going.to.happen. Whenever we went to get haircuts, I did what most parents would have done. I lied right to her face and got her hair cut the way I wanted it. Not b/c I wanted her hair cut that way. On the contrary, I just didn't want to deal with her hair issues.
Which brings me to yesterday.
Kelsey has been asking for side bangs for about a month now. I kept putting her off, trying to figure out how to convince her she has side bangs without actually giving them to her. At this point, I had already agreed to let her grow her hair out with the understanding that if she doesn't take care of it, that I will get it cut off.
"My side bangs don't feel right."
Is health care right or a privilege?
That is not a question that is black and white. There are many shades of gray.
Children definitely have a right to health care. You can't help who you are born to. If a baby is born to a drug addict mother, why should s/he not even get a chance at being healthy?
Illegal immigrants do not have a right to health care. They are in this country illegally. Why should Americans have to pay for their health care? And make no mistake, someone has to pay for the supposed "free" health care that is being proposed. Nothing is free. If you think it is, you need a serious reality check.
My family is a family of four. My two kids have been insured without a break in coverage since the day of their birth. Is it private insurance? Yes. Did it have to be? No. When I had my kids, my husband and I were making a paltry $20/hr (combined) salary. We could have chosen to have more money in our pocket, put our kids on Healthy Families and gone without insurance ourselves. Or we could suck it up and pay the cost of insurance for the kids we chose to have. We went with the latter.
I am all for health insurance reform. I don't think the insurance companies should have as much power as they do. I don't believe the government should have that power either. The federal government was not created to be the ruling power of the people.
A smart person I know says this:
The Constitution was created to limit the powers of the federal government. The Founding Fathers knew that the country needed some form of federal government to take care of some basic needs, i.e. defense of the country, infrastructure, etc. The Constitution is very specific about what powers the federal government has. It says in essence that anything that is not listed in the Constitution is reserved to the States or the people.
Will and Kelsey are camping with my parents. They left on Monday and will come back on Saturday. What I have asked myself since I got home on Monday night is wtf is wrong with me? I have no kids. I should be doing things that people that have no kids do. (What do people that have no kids do?) Instead, I find myself a little out of sorts.
Next Monday, I am going in for foot surgery. What this means it that I'm basically useless for two weeks. The first few days, I can't even go to the bathroom without help. It's srsly fun, ppl. So without the kids here to drive me fraking crazy entertain me with their cute children antics, I'm slowly driving myself crazy. Eight weeks of being laid up is not my idea of a good time. And although I'm not the biggest exercise advocate, that doesn't mean that I don't want to do it once in awhile. Instead I'll be sitting on my butt eating kettle chips and drinking gatorade, watching re-runs of Buffy while being doped up on pain pills.
Good times.
In addition to worry to the point of making myself physically ill, I've also decided to worry about whether Jack will actually stick around after my surgery when I'm as loopy as, well, a fruit loop. Even though he hung around two years ago when I had the same surgery, I keep flashing back to when I had my wisdom teeth pulled. He settled me on the couch with the doctor's warnings (don't leave the patient alone, she might walk out into traffic and get hit by a car) ringing in his ears, gave me the remote and went to play 18 holes of golf. After that, I decided to plan a spa day when I brought him home from getting his wisdom teeth pulled.
To top it all off, Jack got me at a weak point (read: drinking point) on Friday night when I was in Newport Beach. He asked me if I wanted to play softball b/c they needed an extra girl. He cajoled me with the fact that it will be the last time I'll be able to do anything for eight weeks. Being the happy person I am when I was drinking, I enthusiastically agreed that it would be great. I wouldn't even have to worry about the kids b/c they weren't home. Now I can only hope that when the forecasted thunderstorm hits, I'm not up to bat with a piece of metal in my hand while lightning strikes.
Just a little warning...any posts up over the next two weeks will be done while under the influence of pain medication. If it doesn't make sense, at least it will be entertaining.