The Ironicals!

I Spy (1965 TV series)

I Spy (1965 TV series) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Tonight’s episode of The Ironicals comes courtesy of my family…

**Driving in the dark** “Let’s play ‘I Spy’!!”

It is surprising how long one can play ‘I Spy’ driving down a lonely snowy highway in the dark. Laugh,if you will, but you don’t know until you try.

From the loudest kid in the family who had yelled everything she said even when happy. “EVERYONE NEEDS TO BE QUIET!!”

About the kid who bounced and was hyper for quite some time after a stop at the Golden Arches. Me “What did we feed you, kid?” My husband “A Happy Meal?” Please note that we gave them the healthiest food that they offer kids.

I’m beginning to see where their sense of irony comes from.

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Basketball in Pajamas

Basketball Planet

(Photo credit: J.Gabás Esteban)

I get the kiddos all to myself for a few days **insert Muppet-type laughter**. Yes, the Reverend is gone for a few days while I whittle away the hours with nothing to do but knit **more laughter** Hold me.

I get to turn another year older tomorrow. That’s fun! And while we’re talking about birthdays, let’s talk about the fact that I was keeping myself up at nights for the last week trying to will myself to remember to renew my Driver’s License before this birthday. I don’t like to write notes to myself in bed because in the morning I will either forget that I wrote myself a note, or I will forget where I put the note, or how to decipher the hieroglyphics that I wrote in the dark. Too bad my best memory is while I am trying to sleep. I must have reminded myself often enough the last few nights, because I did it yesterday! Whew. That would have been awkward with the husband gone. Then we’d have to walk everywhere or drive illegally…and I wouldn’t do that. Ever. So we’d be walking. For a day.

You might as well know now, that I get distracted like a dog with a new scent.

Our small town has done major renovations in the hub of the “downtown” this year. I’ve not been downtown for months. I’ve seen it from a block away or edged close to it while walking the kids somewhere, but I’ve not taken a drive through and parked in its whole new street design. I did yesterday. I probably should have been aware that they haven’t finished the last phase of topping the road but that little fact escaped me. Now where DID I put that town newsletter **looking under STACKS of  paperwork** That little piece of information could have been useful to me. While I was exiting the vehicle and telling the girls to wait for me, I got distracted by my phone. The exposed curb came over and kicked me and, instead of rolling into it, I grasped at air as if it were a flailing rope and came up with nothing. SPLAT! Like a messy exclamation mark. The good thing is that we don’t live in a tourist trap where people’s phones are out and ready to record. In fact, I’m not sure there was another living soul on that street to see my fantastic leap of death into the air. Small towns are great like that. I was pretty sure my body would hurt for a few weeks.

Surprisingly, I woke up feeling a tad less like I was an elderly woman and more like I’d been rear-ended in a slow moving car.

Tonight I had the pleasure of taking our crew to Basketball practice. By that time in the day, I usually yearn to be comfy and warm. My body had begun hurting a little more and my PJ’s were calling to me. I didn’t care if I’d become “that mom” who wore PJ pants to public places. It’s a small town and I have little dignity left anymore. I’ve gone to Kid’s Club in slippers. If people are going to talk about my gigantic black slippers and fluffy pink pj’s then they really need some new material for town gossip! When you deal with arthritis and Fibromyalgia this long you start to think about survival in ways that make you happy. When flare-ups happen, Flannel PJ’s make my body all sorts of happy. So, out I went in my bright pink PJ bottoms with hearts all over (and a top, in case you were wondering) and I was ready to go.

After practice, my daughter said “Why did you go to practice in your PJ’s?” and I asked “Why? Did it embarrass you?” **a little dramatic eyebrow waggling** She replied ‘YUP!” I said “Well, I could have danced around like this.” Giving my best rendition of a shaking cha-cha with a little awkward belly dance move. I said “Now that would have been embarrassing.” Piping up calmly. “No mom, your PJ’s were more embarrassing.”

That’s when she offered that I should do the waltz with her in our small livingroom. Like I know how. Waltzing with me is a dangerous venture, as she found out, when we fell over the armchair and onto the floor. Well played, my girl. Well played. Fits of giggles later we had more requests for Mommy’s peculiar style of dance and once again the crowd was cheering.

I think there are definite possibilities for this time without The Reverend, like breaking all the rules. The Rev and I don’t waltz…at least, not yet.

For my birthday tomorrow, I have covert plans to drop consequences and current grounding. I will be nixing any groundings that have been in effect. I take life to seriously sometimes and I think my birthday is a perfect time to let my hair down (I may have fallen on my head). I want them to know how much of a pleasure it is to be their parent. Happy birthday to me! I have a plan to give them candy too. In their lunches. Teachers can thank me later. It’s organic candy.

I may even wear pants…well, not PJ pants. Normal pants. If I can get the laundry done on time.

Summer Vacation story…and I’m sticking to it

Official logo of Winnipeg

Official logo of Winnipeg (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Being in spiritual leadership is extremely taxing in both the spiritual aspect, the social aspect and just feeling the weight of the expectations on you. Every year we try to see family and fit some relaxation time in there with the four kids. Relaxing with four young kids could be considered an oxymoron. Perhaps there are those who think that The Reverend and his very Holy Family *sarcasm* should just go into seclusion and read their Bibles.  Then there are the times we end up in a big city with a lot of mesmerizing lights, go over to a random Italian home and enjoy an authentic Italian meal, drink homemade wine and end up in their basement singing songs from the ’50’s.  My sister is dating a nice guy who is from Italy and maybe they’ve invited us in to “The Family” *say that with a raspy male voice it makes it sound more impressive*It was hard to tell because they showed me the cellar and that worried me a little. I’m kidding. It was favaloso!

Today we had an odd thing happen. We went all the way to the beach and had NO ONE wanting to go swimming. Oh sure, the teenagers went in to dip their toes and the kids wandered around aimlessly but really all we could do was sit there and eat snacks. Sure, not every adventure has to be actually adventurous but it would help if MY kids acted themselves and spend the time in the water…that would have been normal. Some of them just hung around looking out of sorts. Halfway home “Mom, I’m going to barf.” and barf he did. I should have known b/c our older daughter was complaining of a very sore head so she was kind of out of sorts. But mommy says “We are ALL going to have a fun time at the beach because it’s holidays…RIGHT?” Ah so momma’s not always right. We tried though. It was early to bed for barf boy and headache Queen. Then the Queen of Scream showed up and made me rap her a lullaby. Well, I rapped and she screamed. So over tired was she that she did not appreciate my lyrical artistry.

I ran, jogged with my brother around Winnipeg yesterday. Right off my bladder seemed full. Yah. No bathrooms. So my game was a little off with that little middle-aged crisis. Ok, me with my short (and I do mean SHORT) legs can never keep up to a brother like mine so as I moved my legs at lightening speed he sauntered along…and did a very good job of looking like he was getting a good jog in. He’s nice like that. Even though I felt intimidated to run with a long-legged guy like him he jogged easily beside me. Twenty-two minutes of jogging and a day later and he must have been deceptively working me harder than I thought. My thighs are screaming and my calves are begging for jog day not to be tomorrow. But I will. I will let him work harder than me and my short legs will let on. I can be stealthy like that. YA right…

All in all my holiday has entertained and relaxed, kind of. I have more stories but have to ok them with my family yet.

I love being with my fam jam. They are kooky like me only maybe more so. I should go to bed now though. Insomnia does not cure travel weary stress brain.

 

 

The (Almost) Empty Nest

Lettuce

Lettuce (Photo credit: photofarmer)

The Reverend left me.

My kids ran away.

My friends are all gone…

That is not just some sappy country song gone wrong!  It is my life tonight. Before you get all shocked and bothered and spread the word around the small town that the Reverend’s family has done gone and falled apart…

The Reverend left on a day trip to go and visit some church people way down south. He’s coming back, don’t you worry!

Three of my kids went off to camp, leaving my middle daughter to wonder what to do with her somewhat lame mom for the one night where everyone else is gone. We ended up eating pizza, watching a chick flick, painting nails, eating chocolate and beef jerky…typical girl’s stuff that got me labelled “cool mom” for the night.

My friends seem to have all gone on holidays or aren’t answering their phones… The latter is not a good sign.

Truth be told, I am not that lonely or bored. If I were to be completely honest, like any good Reverend’s Wife, then I would have to say that I am CHILLED OUT and loving life just a tad. I admit, I was a little nervous about sending my oldest to camp. Being on the Autism Spectrum, I know just how anxious new situations can make him. And yet, I knew that the right thing to do was to drop him off with a bunch of strangers in a place he’s never been before for five days. I know, I am such a good mom! To keep myself from calling the camp 1000 times, like I want to do, I have been consciously blocking thoughts of what I know he is going through. I did warn the counsellor (named Spike) that my son was known to make strange noises and inappropriate comments, especially when he is nervous or excited. I didn’t tell them that red dye (or any artificial dye) is wicked bad for him…it would be pointless because pretty much everything that is made in mass production has some sort of artificial dye and he would go straight for it because I tell him that he shouldn’t. He would need someone watching him all. the. time. On the first night there, while I was still with him, he had 4 cups of electric blue juice. I am not sure how that all went for everyone. I told him to go for it because I wasn’t putting him to bed that night.

Then there was my littlest tykes. They aren’t so little anymore, but at ages six and seven, I didn’t know if sending them to camp would look like we were being ultra-spiritual with the kids by sending them so young or that I just wanted to have a couple of days without items being stolen from my purse and placed under pillows. Whatever my reasons actually were, my two youngest couldn’t get rid of me fast enough, once they got into their cabins. My daughter waved me out with both hands, shooing me with a “Good-BYE MOM!”  She emphasized her impatience with me with a blunt “Ahhgghha” and a hands-on-hips move. As I left my son’s cabin, he glanced my way as I said “Don’t I get a hug???” He sighed as he clambered down the ladder and gave me a quick sideways hug before climbing back up. “Yah-bye-mom”

Ok, I guess that nixes getting all emotional.

So here I sit, regretting the pizza I ate (supposed to be off of wheat, dairy and tomatoes for health reasons…I love pizza) and wondering which show I should watch. My back aches and I have lettuce to wash, a lot of lettuce. I am going to ignore some of the lettuce.

I’m glad it won’t last long, but I kind of like this (almost) empty nest.

The Waking Half-Dead

English: A photo of a cup of coffee. Esperanto...

English: A photo of a cup of coffee. Esperanto: Taso de kafo. Français : Photo d’une tasse de caffé Español: Taza de café (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Gingerly toes appear from the darkness, finding cold air. Grimacing, a face appears and the covers get tossed aside with a huff. Lurching with the grace of the Half-Dead, I emerge from my slumber and stumble down the hall, hands steadying myself as I find my way toward the life-giving Coffee Machine.

“Hey, Mom!” Shouts one boisterous and wide awake child.

“Awgh-blghdred” I reply.

Suddenly there is a child hanging off my leg. “Good Morning, Mom!!!”

“Gdnblerg” Stumble, lurch, hug hug.

“Good day, My Love! I was just thinking about the idea of this sermon illustration….blah blah blah…I have been thinking all night about it and didn’t sleep a wink…..yada yada.”

“Sounds good…blerg.” I blink a few times, wondering just how long he’s been up, and trying desperately to clear my vision.

Two brain cells rub together long enough to grind the coffee so that my morning beverage can brew. Sniffing at the aroma wafting from the sweet nectar, I pull two kids apart and grumble something that sounds less like making peace and more like “Let me wake up first before you throw punches!”

Ironically, when the odd day arrives that I leap out of bed early with a twinkle in my eye and a spring in my step, the family thinks that the world just may be coming to an end.

Don’t worry, my loves, it only lasts a day and then we go back to normal.

The Day of the Waking Half-Dead.

I may not be a morning person

Flower yellow

Flower yellow (Photo credit: @Doug88888)

I was innocently tucked away in my bed, fast asleep, when I had the vague impression something had shifted.

“HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY!!!” my kids shouted. They had all snuck in and surrounded my bed.

Barely able to keep myself from emptying my full bladder, the first words out of my mouth were “Coffee…”

Suddenly, I found myself covered in Mother’s Day gifts. I pried my eyes open long enough to see the delighted looks on all five pairs of eyes as they eagerly awaited for me to awake and commence the festivities. The Reverend suggested they let me go to the bathroom to “wake up” and take the gifts to the livingroom. They all grabbed their gifts off of my prone body and filed out the door…all except for one of them.

My blonde haired, blue-eyed boy stayed back and thrust his arms out as soon as I sat upright and wrapped them around me tightly. He stood back and looked me in the eyes and said “Happy Mother’s Day, Mom!  I can hardly wait for you to open my gift!”

I may not be a morning person, but even I could recognize the ironic sweetness in my early morning moments. I wish I could say the same for the rest of the day, but we’ll just talk about the good times, ok?

I hope you had beautiful moments today, my friends. Happy Mother’s Day!

I’m still waiting for my coffee though…