chickenfickle

I have been giving this some thought and I would like to be your friend. Not your “We haven’t talked in 20 years but I saw your name on a popular social media site” friend, but a friend. There’s one catch, though-I’m “as is.” Yep, you have to take me like this.

And what is “this” you ask? Well, it’s everything you want in a friend and everything you don’t. It’s all my baggage and then some. But, here’s the great thing about being a friend. You can ignore a whole big bunch of that stuff. Yes, that’s right. Why? ‘Cuz we’re friends.

When you are friends with someone, and they act nuts, you have a choice. You can say, you are being nuts and move on. Or you can get all in a snit and not be able to move on. I’d like you to stay on as a friend but move on from the nuttiness. We’ve got lots more in our future but we’ll never get there if you stay stuck in the past. Why? ‘Cuz we’re friends.

Now, let’s talk time commitment. I’m going to be honest here and tell you that I don’t have much time to give you. But, as my friend, you understand that and probably don’t mind because you are busy, too. So when I put my kids and husband before you and we don’t talk for a month, don’t be pissy. When I get two minutes, you’ll be the one I call. And when I get your voicemail and you don’t call me back for two weeks, that’s cool, too. Why? ‘Cuz we’re friends.

Also, we aren’t going to agree on everything. But the great thing about being a friend is that we don’t have to. You can have your opinions (and they can be dumb) and I can have mine (which are completely right in every way) and we can choose to disagree but defend each other’s right to have them. Why? ‘Cuz we’re friends, you moron.

So, I guess what I’m trying to say here is that being my friend is going to be hard, but I hope you consider it. I have a lot to offer. I’m funny. No, really, I am. I can cook, too. And, I know everything. That’s how I know you should be my friend.

#2, when he has a good time or likes something a lot, will say it’s the best X ever. And he puts an emphasis on the ever, which is hard to hear when you are reading so I used italics. You have to use your imagination to understand my Best Bride, Ever.

A friend of ours from college is getting married. He’s been dating his fiancee for a few years and we’ve met her a number of times. But, they are single (at least for another month) and we have kids so we don’t see them a lot. She’s always been nice and friendly and politely listened to our stories about kids and poop and things that she has totally no interest in and I appreciate it.

Now that their wedding is getting close, she’s been having bridal showers and parties. I saw her earlier this summer at a party and she mentioned that she didn’t invite any of her fiancé’s college friends’ wives to her showers because while she likes us, she felt it was inappropriate. While we all get along, she said she thought it was just a “get me a gift” invite because we don’t hang out. I thought that was very classy. How many times have you been invited to something and you know it’s just because someone wants a gift? You haven’t talked to this person in six years or you’ve never met them and you get an invite? Just tell me what to buy (actually someone did that once but that’s a topic for another rant.) Anyway, I still wanted to be part of the celebration so I planned a little get-together with the other wives and her.

I wanted to do something nice and elegant but not a bridal shower. Tea seems to be the big thing now so that’s what I planned. I got all dressed up. I never get dressed up so this was a big deal for me. I picked up one of the other wives and away we went.

We got there a bit early and the table was ready so the two of us sat down. We had a glass of champagne and chatted. Then another guest arrived and we chatted with her. Two more came along. Finally, the Bride arrived and the tea began. And it couldn’t have been more lovely. From the room, to the food, to the conversation, I personally had a really nice time. All because she was the Best Bride, Ever.

Again, she politely listened to our stories about kids and crap and that was nice. But when she talked about her wedding, well, it was so charming and sweet. I remember she said that no one had told her how much fun it would be, how nice people would be to her, and how grateful she was. And she got all teary (and so did we) and I just thought to myself, this is the Best Bride, Ever. She’s having a great time and is truly, genuinely thankful for what everyone is doing for her. I had always thought she was a nice person, smart, good personality, but the couple hours I spent with her on Sunday reaffirmed my faith in humanity. I know that sounds nuts but lately it seems like a lot of people just suck. The news is depressing, people are mean, the world is a bad place. But sitting with her, drinking tea and listening to her be happy was so uplifting. Usually, you hear about Bridezilla but not her. She’s more like Mother Theresa Bride (that’s all I could think of, it’s late, cut me some slack.)

So, I would just like to say, Congratulations on your upcoming nuptials and thank you for letting me be a part of it. You are the Best Bride, Ever.

A friend of mine sent me an article about what it’s like when your kids get their drivers licenses. My kids are too young for that but I can still relate. The Girl no longer has training wheels.

It started out with one of those little plastic push around things. She’d get it and stand behind it and walk. Then she got a little tricycle and then her first bike with training wheels. She’d put her little helmet on and I’d walk next to her. Such a big girl, riding her bike. How cute. But then, she grew too tall for the princess bike and we had to get her a bigger one and those don’t have training wheels. Either she learned to ride or she was going to have to walk everywhere.

We started out in the grass. I would take her to the field down the block and stand next to her. I would balance the bike and run next to her and let go. She’d ride until she fell down. We did this over and over. I cheered her on until she was ready for the sidewalk. It’s easier to ride on the sidewalk but scarier. And stopping and starting is tough, too, but now, well, she puts her helmet on and away she goes. We did the same thing with her rollerblades. We practiced in the basement on the carpet until she was confident enough to go outside. Last night she was blading up and down the block, a seasoned pro. And now, she’s no longer happy to just go to the corner. Oh no, Big Girl wants to go around the block. Without me.

So, what’s the big deal? Don’t all kids learn to ride a bike? Yes, I suppose they do, but, well, it sucks, frankly. She used to need me for everything. Now, that stupid bike is just one more step closer to her moving out into her own apartment. I’m not interested in this growing up thing. No.

Yet, she’s still my baby. I took her to her first concert last week, Taylor Swift. We had dinner together and then went to the show. She stood there, nervous at first, then started to dance a little and sing along to the songs she knew. I looked at her at one point with her arms in the air and, I tell you, it’s a good thing it was dark so no one could see me cry. And I know I wasn’t the only one. There was a mom in front of me with two girls around The Girl’s age and she kept looking at them and touching their hair or shoulders and I know that the girls she saw were two or three years old. Next to us, there was a dad with a little girl who really was only about three and she sat on his lap the whole time. She had a seat, but he didn’t put her down once. He was holding his newborn daughter.

About half-way through, The Girl sat down. She told me was a little tired and wanted to rest. I asked if she wanted to leave but she said, no, just take a little break. We ended up sitting for the rest of the concert, with her head on my shoulder, drifting in and out of sleep. She was too tired to stand up but still refused to leave. When it was over we found our car and she was asleep before we even made it out of the parking lot. We got home and Daddy carried her up to bed.

Monday, she starts second grade. And my middle son starts kindergarten. When did they grow up? I look at them and I see the babies I brought home from the hospital seven and five years ago. I see the babies I potty trained. I see the babies that I taught to ride bikes. I don’t think I won’t ever see them as babies no matter how big they get. They’ll be walking down the aisle at their weddings and I’ll see babies crawling.

I read somewhere that your kids are still babies if they sleep with their butts in the air. THAT BABY still sleeps like that. I go to check on everyone before I go to sleep and he’s like that, tushy in the air. Eventually, he’ll be in a toddler bed, then a regular bed and he won’t sleep like that anymore. Once in a while, the other two sleep like that, more curled up than usual, and I have a little flashback to when they really were babies.

The Girl and I went shopping for clothes a few weeks back. I can’t bring myself to buy her some of what is out there but we were able to find some stuff. When it came time for shoes, she picked out a pair of ballet flats with jewels on the toe. Then she surprised me by picking out a pair of Maryjanes, black with criss-cross straps, just like what she wore when she was younger. I had seen them and didn’t bother to show her because I thought for sure she wouldn’t like them. But she found them on her own. As we walked out of the shoe department, she held my hand and skipped and I carried her bag of training wheels.

Summer has ended. How do I know? We cleaned out the garage.

Yesterday, I took THAT BABY out to run a few errands. Upon our return, I see Husband’s car parked at the curb and everything that was in our garage on the lawn. For a second, I actually thought to myself, Who would have a garage sale on a Sunday? then I realized it was us. Only it wasn’t a sale, it was a clean. Where was the camera crew from Hoarders?

Husband had recruited the other two to help him and thought TB and I would be gone longer. Unfortunately, we came home early. TB was excited and jumped right in. Me, not so much. Yes, the garage needed to be cleaned but that was not how I had planned to spend my Sunday. Not to worry, it won’t take more than an hour Husband assured me. An hour? In dog year time maybe. An hour. Right.

So I joined the cleaning party. I got rid of chalk, old kites, wood, empty bubble containers. I found parts of the bike I gave to my neighbor and put them on her patio. I gave away a fog machine and a stroller cup holder and an infant sled. Husband hosed the floor and #2 soaked himself silly. The Girl played with random toys and TB ran around screaming. Good times.

But, it signals an end to summer. Why? Well, we had to make room for both cars-because it will be cold before we know it. We had to put the jumpy in the back so the snow blower could come out-because it will be cold before we know it. The chalk and bubbles had to be packed up and the snowman-shaped can of snowman parts moved to the front of the storage shelf-because it will be cold before we know it. It took forever for summer to show up, it was cold and gross for so long and now, school starts in two weeks and poof! It’s going to be fall and then it will be too cold to clean the garage.

Am I sad? Well, I have mixed feelings. I know what’s coming. My kids are going to school and it’s one more summer gone away. We did a lot this summer and I have a lot to look forward to this fall. #2 is going to kindergarten and we are taking bets on how long before we get “the call” from his teacher. Um, Mrs. #2, this is #2’s teacher….. I say September. She’ll tolerate him until then. The Girl will be fine, I’m not worried about her and TB and I will have a lot of quality time to spend together. He gets the shaft a lot because he’s the little one. This will be a great opportunity for us to hang together. I may even clean the house with all my newfound free time.

I complain about the kids all the time. But when they aren’t here, I miss them. And now, school is starting and they’ll be gone all day. And I know when they come home, they are going to be crabby, hungry maniacs and I’ll wonder why they can’t be in school longer and on weekends. But today, I wish summer would last forever.

We took the kids to Great America yesterday. Mostly it was what I expected-bad food, long lines, inappropriate clothing. We did some rides, ate, went to the waterpark, more rides. As we were getting ready to leave, the kids wanted to do one last ride. We had passed it earlier and at first, I said no because it was an additional fee. I was mad that some of the attractions weren’t included in the cost of our tickets (hadn’t we spent enough?) but I gave in. I forked over $20 for The Girl, #2 and Husband to do the Ropes Course.

They lined up and waited. When it was their turn, the attendant strapped them into the harnesses and they climbed the stairs. From there, they walked the beams, the ropes, the wiggly steps. Husband went along because he thought #2 would need help. But Mr. 5 year-old didn’t. He left his dad behind and went after his sister. Who left him behind. Occasionally, they would stop to wave at me on the ground below or to make sure Daddy was still alive but otherwise, they were fine on their own.

I couldn’t believe how good they were. How sure of themselves. I would have been scared to be so high up, walking on a beam. I watched my daughter run across one without any ropes. She didn’t even blink but when she made it to the other side, I could see the look of satisfaction on her face. She had done it. All by herself.

A few times, #2 had a little trouble with his rope. I watched as he pulled and pulled and it was stuck. Just when I thought he might need help, he’d give one last yank it would be free and so would he. He’d be off to the next obstacle on the course, much like he and his sister (and eventually little brother) will be off to face the obstacles in their lives. Without us to help them. Sure, we’ll be here and when they look around, we’ll wave and offer assistance but they’ll be on their own.

As I stood holding THAT BABY and watching my two oldest making their way around the course, I was filled with joy that they were able to do it. And, I admit, a little sad, too. They are growing up and don’t need us as much (although #2 still can’t take off his socks and turn them the right way, makes me nuts when I have to do laundry.) He’ll be in kindergarten this year and The Girl goes off to second grade. I’ve still got the little one at home but in two weeks, the house will be so quiet.

But I’m not worried. It’s good to know that they know the ropes.

Ever hear someone say they are having “one of those days”? What kind of day would that be? A day that starts when you wake up and ends when you go to bed? Or a day when THAT BABY barfs in your car, has diarrhea on your lap, then barfs again in his bed and you are forced to do emergency laundry? Is that the kind of day you mean?

TB woke up fine. Happy, ate a waffle, drank some juice, watched a cartoon. I was out for a bit with The Girl and came home for lunch. TB ate a sandwich, had some chips, was just fine. Well, then let’s go do some errands. Off to Target. Fine. Let’s keep going-Costco. Still fine. One more stop, little man? Ok, return some shoes, get some soap. I notice he’s falling asleep in the stroller so we go to the car. I strap him in and I hear a little burp. Then I see his beautiful blue eyes are watery and I notice the barf on his shirt. And shorts. And all over the car seat. The Girl and #2 are holding their noses and telling me TB is stinky.

So I call Husband to warn him. He meets us in the garage and helps to get TB out of the car. We hose him down in the bathtub, give him some Motrin and he takes a nap. All appears to be well. Gets up for dinner, has a bowl of chicken noodle soup and some 7Up. Not hot anymore, chatty, appears to be fine. Well, appearances can be deceiving.

THAT BABY sees the other two outside with our neighbor and wants to play. I agree. He seems fine, maybe some air will do him good. I put his shoes on and we go in the yard. He waves hello, he’s laughing, playing, having a great time. I think, ok, must have been a freak bug. He’s fine.

Now it’s dark out so I make everyone come in and it starts. He cries a little and waves his foot at me to take off his shoes. I do and he goes straight to his little chair, sits down and puts his head on the arm. Uh oh. That’s not a good sign. I holler to Husband to come see. He takes TB’s temp and it’s 102. Rats! Husband gives him more Motrin and I take him upstairs. We have a diaper change (ugly) and then we sit and rock. He falls asleep pretty fast and I think, ok, he’s fine. I put him in his crib and he barfs all over. His poor little body is shaking and he’s crying. I call for some some help and Husband and I get him in the tub and hose him down again. I change his sheets and Husband sits with him this time and so far, he’s been ok.

I think it’s going to be one of those nights….