7 years ago
Monday, June 29, 2009
T-Ball
Dave coached the boys t-ball team again this summer. It was about the same as last summer. The kids were only interested for the first two innings and then they were all whining about how hot it was, or who got to bat last, or what. Very entertaining from the side line, although I doubt Dave would call it that. He is very good with the kids, and has kids spot him in the store or around town and say, "Hi, Coach." He is a great dad!
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Whatta Man, Whatta Man, Whatta Mighty Good Man
I worked two loonnnnggg shifts this weekend. When I got home tonight, this was in the fridge.
'For My Hot Mexican Lover'Dave is a one of a kind dude. He gets me. He loves me. He does so many thoughtful things for me. I love him so much more now, than I could have ever imagined was possible, 10 years ago when we got hitched. Actually, now that I think about it, My Hot Mexican Lover.........Maybe I just came home earlier than he was expecting me. I better double check with him, before I sing too many of his praises.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Hihowareya! Hihowareya!
This is the face I had to look at whilst trying to convince Dave he wanted to go to the Pow Wow.
Then I got this one, when I whipped out my secret weapon.
Three little words for you, Nava........HO........Tacos.
Unfortunately, Dave is not as excitable about tacos as I am, but with a little bartering, I was able to lure him to the Pow Wow. The Boys were very excited about going. We have had some extensive conversations about Native Americans, and how they are not extinct, and live just like we do. I thought, what better way, to show how regular they are, then to take them to the Pow Wow, and let the Boyz see the them just chillin' in their regular ole' Eagle feathers, war paint, head dresses and loin cloths............ Plus, I had an argument to win.
Dawson and I, have been bickering over the ethnic background of one of his classmates for the last several months. He insisted that she was Indian, because she knew a lot about Indians, and basically, because she told him that she was an Indian. Knowing everything about everything, as I usually do, I told him that she was Hispanic. I have seen and talked with this cute girl at the school parties, and besides her name being very similar to "Maria Martinez", and having darker skin, I just knew she was Hispanic.
The Pow Wow was great. I bawled during the Grand Entry, which felt a little lame, especially with Dave rolling his eyes at me, but I am totally moved by seeing people who have so much history, pay so much respect to their ancestors. We watched several dances and then made our way down to the taco stands. Our dinner was great. I got a titch nervous watching the chitlins put down so much chili, but only half as nervous as Dave got, watching me scarf the beans. We walked around the booths and the Boyz got some ideas for next year's birthdays, and Christmases. I hope they aren't too disappointed when they don't open up arrowhead spears, roach clips, or hand-carved hunting daggers.
As we were leaving, I remembered that the only pictures I had taken were of the tacos. Oh, the shame. Anyway, I persuaded Daveskins and Daws, to run back and snap a token picture of an actual Native American. I loaded up Emma and Dyl, and drove the truck up to the entrance where Dave and Dawson were waiting. They were just beaming and couldn't wait to get in the truck. When Dave got in, I asked him what he was grinning about. He said he was just laughing about Dawson running into a friend when they went back to get pictures. Dawson jumped in the truck and got right in my face to let me know that he saw his little "Hispanic" friend all dudded up and dancing around the circle with the rest of her Native American family. The little punk made me apologize to him about 50 times on the way home.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Apparently, Tourettes Is Hereditary.
Dawson: Mom, you know how you go to work with disease?
Me: What do you mean, and you should not say that to anyone else.
Dawson: I have three diseases, and I want you to tell me what they are.
Me: Okey doke. (Desperately hoping this is not another case where I just shake my head, and tell him, that's what it's SUPPOSED to look like.)
Dawson: My first disease is when I have to say stuff three times. My second disease is when I clap really loud 5 times, and the worst disease is when I have those naughty words in my head and I have to spit them out, even if you say you don't want to hear them.
Oh, that's great. I went to Salt Lake with a with my normal quirky kid, and figured I might have a post about Costco, but NOOOOOOO. On the way home, he decides he has "diseases", and diagnoses himself with OCD and Tourettes. Holla!
Me: What do you mean, and you should not say that to anyone else.
Dawson: I have three diseases, and I want you to tell me what they are.
Me: Okey doke. (Desperately hoping this is not another case where I just shake my head, and tell him, that's what it's SUPPOSED to look like.)
Dawson: My first disease is when I have to say stuff three times. My second disease is when I clap really loud 5 times, and the worst disease is when I have those naughty words in my head and I have to spit them out, even if you say you don't want to hear them.
Oh, that's great. I went to Salt Lake with a with my normal quirky kid, and figured I might have a post about Costco, but NOOOOOOO. On the way home, he decides he has "diseases", and diagnoses himself with OCD and Tourettes. Holla!
Friday, June 19, 2009
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Top 3 Things You Don't Want Your Kids To Holler At You While Playing Softball
#1-"MOM, DYLAN IS PEEING BEHIND THE TREE INSTEAD OF THE BATHROOM!"
#2-"MOM, EMMA KEEPS LICKING THIS BIG ROCK!"
#3-"MOM, DYLAN IS DONE PEEING AND WON'T PULL HIS PANTS UP!"
Seriously, there are only a few things that remind me of my youthful carefree kid days, and playing softball on summer nights is one of them. Unless of course, the Hoodlums tag along.
Dave went to a wedding tonight, so Emma and the Boyz came along to my softball game. Being the super paranoid Mutha that I am, I gave them strict parameters of where they could play. I stationed them right behind Home Base where I could see them and know what they were doing. I soon realized, they were way to close. The first time I got up to bat, the Boyz went nuts heckling me. "Hey Batta, Batta!" and some stuff about my legs that I believe is reserved for pitchers, but they thought it applied to me as well.
I had to relax the parameters a bit so that I wasn't tempted to holler threats about the ripping of limbs and the like. I allowed them to wander in the fields next to first base so that I could still see their heads running around. Emma opted to stay in the bleachers with some enormous rock that she had found, and licked it straight through the game. Maybe I need to increase something in her diet. The Boyz quickly united with their friends and I would like to say, 'who knows what went down', but I have Dawson to holler updates to me throughout the game, as noted above.
Dave was home by the time we played our second game, but by then my attention span was shot. My first ups,I struck out, swinging hard enough to pull something in my shoulder, dropped the F-bomb, and then watched a nine-months pregnant chick hit a home run, and make it around the bases in the same time it takes me to get to first. There is just something about those farm girls.
At last the umpire ended our misery and called the game on the 10 run rule. I went home, snuggled Dave and told him how sucktacular I was. He knows just how to cheer me up, we ended the night with some Double Stuff Oreos, Crystal Light and an episode of Reno 911!
#2-"MOM, EMMA KEEPS LICKING THIS BIG ROCK!"
#3-"MOM, DYLAN IS DONE PEEING AND WON'T PULL HIS PANTS UP!"
Seriously, there are only a few things that remind me of my youthful carefree kid days, and playing softball on summer nights is one of them. Unless of course, the Hoodlums tag along.
Dave went to a wedding tonight, so Emma and the Boyz came along to my softball game. Being the super paranoid Mutha that I am, I gave them strict parameters of where they could play. I stationed them right behind Home Base where I could see them and know what they were doing. I soon realized, they were way to close. The first time I got up to bat, the Boyz went nuts heckling me. "Hey Batta, Batta!" and some stuff about my legs that I believe is reserved for pitchers, but they thought it applied to me as well.
I had to relax the parameters a bit so that I wasn't tempted to holler threats about the ripping of limbs and the like. I allowed them to wander in the fields next to first base so that I could still see their heads running around. Emma opted to stay in the bleachers with some enormous rock that she had found, and licked it straight through the game. Maybe I need to increase something in her diet. The Boyz quickly united with their friends and I would like to say, 'who knows what went down', but I have Dawson to holler updates to me throughout the game, as noted above.
Dave was home by the time we played our second game, but by then my attention span was shot. My first ups,I struck out, swinging hard enough to pull something in my shoulder, dropped the F-bomb, and then watched a nine-months pregnant chick hit a home run, and make it around the bases in the same time it takes me to get to first. There is just something about those farm girls.
At last the umpire ended our misery and called the game on the 10 run rule. I went home, snuggled Dave and told him how sucktacular I was. He knows just how to cheer me up, we ended the night with some Double Stuff Oreos, Crystal Light and an episode of Reno 911!
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Mama Is Off the Sauce
It is official. I am off the sauce. Much like the my patients who "quit smoking, " although their last cigarette was 2 hours ago, I have stopped doing Coke, with my last hit being almost 12 hours behind me. I went out with a bang, and had a 44 ouncer made to my usual specifications, 68% ice, followed by a 4" to 1" ratio of Diet to Cherry Coke layered and swirled, to mix the flavors just so. It was delicious, and it burned so good. I am not sure how something that feels so right could be so wrong, but it is for me.
My new found sobriety is not based on health concerns, which will not shock anyone that knows me, (I haven't given up frosting, for hell's sakes.) It stems from an ugly incident at work that has caused me much shame.
A couple of day's ago, I commuted to work with my g.f. Amberly. She was running late, as she does everyday and in our hurry to be on time I bypassed my morning Chevron stop. I worked straight through lunch, and 11 and a half hours later, I was slumped over my stool, staring at the clock and mumbling every naughty swear I could think of. Unfortunately for him, I was approached by a Resident with a simple request.
*Names have been changed to protect the innocent. This is how it went down.
*Tijay(haha, rhymes with his real name.) "The lady in 8 just needs a juice."
Me: *%$#^, &*& *(^$%$$%^$%###!!! And, &^^%&*@!#@! Then &*^%$#!!
*Tijay: Uhhh......just juice
Me: What about THIS girl's needs, *Tijay? Why doesn't anyone ever think about what THIS girl needs? Maybe THIS girl needs a juice, maybe she needs a juice real bad, one with carbonation, caffiene, and Carmel #5.
*Tijay:Uhhh....
Me: *sniff*sniff*sniff* "You don't know me." Then, there were actual tears.
The lady in room 8 didn't get her juice, and I finished out the last 15 minutes of my shift watching the clock through my tears and avoiding eye contact with anyone. I think it qualifies as "rock bottom" when you start referring to yourself in third person. Poor Elmo was banished from my house indefinitely for the same offense, so I figure it is time to take control of the situation.
My plan is to replace the same amount of Diet Coke with water. I hate water. I was lamenting my distaste of the nasty stuff to my co-worker, when she suggested that I add Crystal Light. Blech! That is like when you spritz perfume over a fart. It still smells like fart, with a hint of something you used to like. No bueno. I am not drinking fart water. She also suggested juice, but I can't afford to drink my calories. I need to save them for nachos. It might be ugly for a couple of days, especially for a girl who was weaned from the teet to the 2 liter,(not blaming, just saying) but I know I can do it.
My new found sobriety is not based on health concerns, which will not shock anyone that knows me, (I haven't given up frosting, for hell's sakes.) It stems from an ugly incident at work that has caused me much shame.
A couple of day's ago, I commuted to work with my g.f. Amberly. She was running late, as she does everyday and in our hurry to be on time I bypassed my morning Chevron stop. I worked straight through lunch, and 11 and a half hours later, I was slumped over my stool, staring at the clock and mumbling every naughty swear I could think of. Unfortunately for him, I was approached by a Resident with a simple request.
*Names have been changed to protect the innocent. This is how it went down.
*Tijay(haha, rhymes with his real name.) "The lady in 8 just needs a juice."
Me: *%$#^, &*& *(^$%$$%^$%###!!! And, &^^%&*@!#@! Then &*^%$#!!
*Tijay: Uhhh......just juice
Me: What about THIS girl's needs, *Tijay? Why doesn't anyone ever think about what THIS girl needs? Maybe THIS girl needs a juice, maybe she needs a juice real bad, one with carbonation, caffiene, and Carmel #5.
*Tijay:Uhhh....
Me: *sniff*sniff*sniff* "You don't know me." Then, there were actual tears.
The lady in room 8 didn't get her juice, and I finished out the last 15 minutes of my shift watching the clock through my tears and avoiding eye contact with anyone. I think it qualifies as "rock bottom" when you start referring to yourself in third person. Poor Elmo was banished from my house indefinitely for the same offense, so I figure it is time to take control of the situation.
My plan is to replace the same amount of Diet Coke with water. I hate water. I was lamenting my distaste of the nasty stuff to my co-worker, when she suggested that I add Crystal Light. Blech! That is like when you spritz perfume over a fart. It still smells like fart, with a hint of something you used to like. No bueno. I am not drinking fart water. She also suggested juice, but I can't afford to drink my calories. I need to save them for nachos. It might be ugly for a couple of days, especially for a girl who was weaned from the teet to the 2 liter,(not blaming, just saying) but I know I can do it.
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