Name that tune

Our family is pretty muscial. Both the kids are in band and choir, Hillary plays piano, I occasionally sing in church...even my husband likes to listen to music. But as much as we love it, we sometimes get a song wrong.
The other day Parker was telling us about having to watch "The Sound of Music" at school. He couldn't think of the name of his favorite song on the show. He sang a few lines of it and Hillary and I said, "Oh, that's Edelweiss." And we were all trying to sing it. I couldn't understand why my husband looked so put out. I asked, "What's wrong, don't you like that song?" To which he replied huffily, "Why the heck are they singing those kinds of songs at school?" What? Then he went on, "Any song about an anal vice can't be good. What is an anal vice anyway? It sounds painful." We all cracked up, and now, sometimes out of the blue, one of us will just start singing, "Aaaanal Viiiiiiice..."
But I can't laugh too hard. It took me years to figure out that the song Secret Agent Man wasn't trying to make some kind of racial slur. I thought they were singing, "Secret Asian Man." I couldn't figure out why the man would want to keep his ethnicity a secret.
Anybody up for some karoke?

Just for fun

What girls do for fun...














What boys do for fun...

Old School

My kids are fascinated by stories from our younger days. When Hillary was little, she would say, "Tell me a stowy about when you were a kid." (She sucked her thumb so she had a buck-tooth lisp!) I've always been hesitant...not wanting to put my kids through the dreaded "back when I was young.." stories that make most people roll their eyes and turn off their ears. But my husband LOVES talking about the past. Especially his athletic prowess. When the Time Train leaves for memory lane, he's the first one on it. I usually start singing "Glory Days" and leave the room, but the kids just eat it up. Parker has really gotten interested as he's come into adolescence. When he plays basketball, he wants to know if Dad played the same position...what his number was...if he did this drill or that drill in practice. And when he found Yancy's high school letterman jacket in the basement closet, he wore it to school every day. Even though it wasn't Parker's school colors and the sleeves hung down a little too far.

I've been promising Parker for a couple of weeks now that we would dig out the old yearbooks and he could look through them. So last night, my husband pulled out the storage tub in the back of the basement, under a whole stack of other things and the two of them pored over the year books. Yancy told stories about this boy and that girl, this teacher and that coach. Parker sat rapt with attention. They were in their own little world. After reliving 1989-91, I'd had enough. I went to bed. Leaving my boys to make their own memories by sharing memories.

Happy Anniversary to Us!

Two kids and one dog

Thirteen years of college between us

Six houses

Two towns

Making love and making war

Marriage counseling

Eight family vacations

One anniversary trip to Mexico

Six "our songs"

Job changes and church changes

Laughs, tears, bouts of depression

Good times

Bad decisions

A million photographs

Fifteen years

So far, so good....

Food for thought

These were my thoughts while I was cleaning out the fridge...a job long overdue.

Top shelf...moldy cheese and spilled hummingbird food..."Why do we have so much cheese?"

"Those hummingbirds eat better than we do. It's funny how my husband can't tell when the trash can is overflowing, but let the hummingbird feeder get below half full and he's in the kitchen, cooking up his special recipe. He even told me the other day that my store bought red water wasn't good enough and the birds didn't even like it. Oh well, at least my family won't starve if anything ever happens to me. They'll get by on taco salad and hummingbird nectar."

Second shelf...a motley crew of bowls full of leftovers in various stages of decomposition..."Why do I bother? Every night I carefully save what's left of dinner, just so it can sit in my fridge and spoil. Then I wash out the stinky bowl and start all over again."

Bottom drawer...3rd bag of half used, wilted, slimy salad stuff...and 27 little packets of ketchup, mustard, and sweet and sour sauce from fast food restaurants. Apparently I'm afraid we may run out of ketchup at some crucial time, and at least I'll have enough packets for us all to get one dot of condoment each. Although, it's an irrational fear considering the two half full and one unopened bottles of ketchup in the door.

"Four packs of cream cheese?"

"When did this happen? This is so nasty. I turn my back for 9 measly months and the whole place goes to...Oh...my...gosh...this dressing expired in November of '07."

Perfect! Now I just need to go shopping!

Parker

Parker is so like his dad sometimes. That's so great for me...and maybe not so great for him? I've been told I can be a little high-maintenence in the emotion department (Yancey calls me "Kate" from Jon and Kate plus 8). And I guess I do get bossy occasionally and tend to smack those I love when I get a burst of affection for them. Kate calls them 'love taps'.
Anyway, today was one of those days where I was just down. No particular reason...I just was. Parker and I tried to get our hair cut this morning, but the hair lady had an emergency and ran out of her shop. So I told the secretary I'd reschedule and we left. Then Hillary and I went to my friend Angie's house to have lunch with her and her two girls. That cheered me up somewhat. The girls made me laugh, and Angie sent me home with flowers to plant and strawberries to eat.
But I couldn't shake the melancholy. So I tried to cleaning something. I re-organized my already organized laundry room, and cleaned out my cookbook shelf. My sensitive son knew right away what was happening and jumped right in to help by spot-cleaning the carpet. I looked in the living room to find him playing with legos and listening to America (the 60's band) in the middle of up-ended bar stools. He has an unconventional method of spraying the stain, applying paper towels, then weighing them down with a stool for 30 min. Apparently he has tried varying the time, because he picked up one stool and said, "30 min...perfect." And I have to admit, the stain was gone. Then he did a little cha-cha dance which made me laugh.
By this point my cleaning urge was petering out and I wanted to go to the store for more storage bins and some ice cream. He left his legos in a pile and went with me. He never complained, even when I was on the phone through Wal-Mart and Dollar General, griping about how this town never has anything I need. He followed me through the grocery store while I took 10 min choosing which vanilla ice cream to buy.
After we got home, I started thinking about supper. I had meat ready for the grill...but no husband. I grumblingly grabbed the charcoal, but Parker said, "Here, I know how to do it" and took over. He knew where all Yancy's things were kept. He doused the stuff in lighter fluid and tossed in a match. I was impressed. He was nonchalant.
This easy calmness...this being in the moment...this "I can handle it" attitude is what I love about my husband. And I love seeing it in my son. I know I'm lucky to have them both. And someday, Parker is going to make some high-strung, bossy, overachiever an awesome husband.

Sharing Shoes

Hillary and I went shopping a few days ago. We both ended up with new dresses. Hers is green and short and SO cute. Mine is black and more mature looking. (Actually, Hillary tried it on first and discarded it. I got it on the rebound!) Being the avid "What Not to Wear" watcher that I am, I decided to try something different and get a pair of cute red shoes to wear with it. I know...black and red...not exactly a stretch, but it is for me.

Anyway, as I was getting ready for church this morning (planning to wear my new dress and shoes), Hillary breezed into my room and said, "So, are you wearing the red shoes today, or am I?" I informed her I was planning on it. She headed for my closet.

"These would look good with your dress."

Too old lady looking.

She went to her room and came back with these. She held them up with a hopeful raising of the eyebrows.

I reminded her I'm 32 not 23.

After she brought me a pair of flip-flops, I gave up. She obviously wanted the red shoes more than I did. I found a pair of plain black heels in her closet and she happily put my red shoes on her feet.

She may not follow in my footsteps...but she'll always wear my shoes!