The Villiage Idiot

"It takes a village to raise a child"

I have always hated that motto.  It's so trite.  Hackneyed.  Leftist.  And wrong.

It doesn't take a village.  It takes loving parents to raise a child. 

Loving parents who have really, really good friends.

Like my friend Herb who went to pick up #3 son at 6:30 one evening because Greg thought I was picking him up and I thought Greg was picking him up and neither one of us could be reached by cell phone.

A few months ago, Herb's wife Sarah picked up the same kid for the same reason.

Heh. 

Or my friend Laura who called me in Austin last week to ensure that #1 son had a ride to scouts.  Because she knew that his dad was overwhelmed with being on his own, and felt that if he could manage to keep the kids alive while I was out of town, then he succeeded.  Scouts was just a little TOO much on the plate.

Saturday, in addition to the usual routine, I had to return rental cars and close out books for the conference.  Laura had a kid in the doctor's office.  Both of our #1 sons had to be in the track meet.  Both of our husbands had to work. 

We solved the problem by having her husband drop off and my husband pick up. 

Then there was the horrible night almost 5 years ago when I was pregnant with #3 and bleeding copiously in the middle of the night.  Greg took #1 & #2 to our friends Terry & Mary's house to sleep over so we could go to the ER. 

As you know, everything turned out OK.  Our precious # 3 is a miracle and we thank God every day for him.  We don't always pick him up from daycare on time, be we do thank God for him.

We also thank God for our friends.  Our village.  Thanks to them, we'll be able to raise these boys, despite the fact that Greg & I are truly the Village Idiots.

Eva's Final Gifts

This was the saddest week I've had in like. . . .ever.

The funeral is over, the family is trying to get back to a routine, and Facebook is still ringing with "Eva" memories.

I wasn't going to blog about it anymore.  You've all been with me, and I know it makes you sad too.  It's time for me to be funny again.

But I just had to do ONE MORE.

As you know, "Eva" and I have been friends since 2000. 

She's given me many gifts -- a Diaper Genie (that we used for 2 children), a decent maternity skirt, a Christmas ornament, and some pretty stationary.  Mostly, she's given me the gift of honesty, which I wrote about here and here.  (In the second one, I used "Eva's" real name.  Because it was years ago.  Her real name is Erika. I think she's OK that I tell you that now)

As she fought her illness, she gave us all the gift of perspective, because every post she put on Facebook was an affirming post.  EVERY ONE. 

And, in the end, she gave me something I will cherish forever.

New friends.

The thing about Erika is that she has a million friends.  Maybe a million and 10.  Everybody loves her.  I'm not just saying that because she's gone. . . everyone does love her.  The Corpus Christi Cathedral was PACKED for 2 days to honor this woman and her family. 

Of all the people she loves, it's always been obvious who she loves the most:  Todd, her husband, and her kiddos.  OK - that's a given.  And to see Todd so strong and tall (and handsome -- seriously.  Erika married a hottie) -- my heart swelled in gratitude that such a great man was by her side.

But she also loves -- and LIKES -- her family.  Her sister and her Mom were her very best friends.  She loved and admired her Dad and was so proud to work in the family business.  I always felt like I knew Leslie because even though she lives in another city, Erika was always talking about Leslie this and Leslie that.  She was so proud of her little sister. 

I do know her mom and her dad, and I can totally understand why they are so close. 

I am already friends with her cousin Roland.  He and I were in leadership together and he is one of those wonderful guys that you put on your Men-I-Would-Marry-If-I-Weren't-Already-Married list.  (What?  Don't you have one of those lists??)

Roland kept me abreast of everything that was going on, and I took it upon myself to tell everyone else.

Erika and I have some friends in common, and keeping the prayer vigil made us closer.  Sonja, Carmen, Lisa, Robbie -- I love you guys!  I'm sorry it took THIS to reconnect.  I appreciate that we were together in our grief.

Through the dark days, I realized that Erika and I had some other friends in common.  Amy, Linda, Emily. . . now we're closer because we connected through Erika.

And at the end, we came together with some other wonderful people.  Leslie -- the sister Erika adored.  Even though her grief was incredible, she made sure to comfort me.  I am inspired by how selfless this family is.  Melissa, Rene, and all the cousins who allowed me to enter in the circle of their grief.  To cry with them, the laugh with them -- it's a blessing I won't forget.  I've even made "Facebook Friends" with some people I haven't yet met, but because we both loved Erika, we connected. 

In the end, Erika -- "Eva" -- gave me new friends.

Thanks Erika.  I love you!

See how beautiful???? 

My Intervention

After a killer-owie Leadership Workout on Saturday, a couple of fellow sufferers joined me for breakfast.

We spent much of the time gloating about how well we did on our stats that morning.  Victor did a mid-challenge weigh in.  As a group we lost over 50 lbs!  That's as much as last year's group did FOR THE WHOLE CHALLENGE! 

We're a little excited about it.

Excited enough to go to breakfast.

Not excited enough to get french toast though.  My breakfast had spinach in it.  Yeah.  I still wanna win.

One of my companions complimented me on my journey.  She also gave to to me straight.

"You have to get rid of the skort". 

The other girls nodded silently in agreement. 

"But I love my skort!  I can exercise without looking as if I've peed my pants!"

"I know", she said gently.  "I know you like it.  But it doesn't look good on you.  It's time to let it go."

I wanted to scream and cry and tell her she was wrong! wrong! wrong! wrong!  There is nothing wrong with the skort!  I can put it away anytime I want to.

But in my heart, I knew she was right.

The skort was a crutch.

How can I criticise other people's unfortunate fashion choices if I am going to continue to wear the skort? 

I would be living a lie.

Thanks to my good friends Mary, Rachel & Megan, I got the courage I needed to put the skorts -- all three of them -- in the Goodwill bag.

Goodbye dear friend!  *Sniff!*

And thank you!

The skort saw me through tire tosses



Suicides.  And burpees.



70's day

I'll never forget the day we danced

A Week With My Boys

Since school started this week, I decided to take last week off and just spend it with my kids. 

It didn't hurt that keeping them home saved us $250 in camp fees.

We went to the Aquarium, the water park, the arcade, the beach and got raspas almost every day.  (Raspa is Tex-Mex for Snow-Cone).  We went to the movies, and hosted a small dinner party where the guest of honor was one of our beloved priests. 

We also got haircuts, bought school shoes, and had the pre-school physical.

Two observations:

1.  SAHMs are rock-stars.  I haven't been so tired in I don't know when. 

2.  The mundane was as fun -- or more fun -- than the "events". 

There is just something cool about watching a 6 year old put on a new pair of tennies.  (Sneakers, gym shoes, I don't know whachacallem.  Tennies.)   Remember when new tennies made you jump higher, run faster and stop on a dime? 

I had to giggle when the 3 year old looked at his new haircut and exclaimed "I'm handsome! Right, Mama?"

I was proud of my 10 year old for helping his brothers navigate public restrooms, crowded aquariums and kept them entertained while I did my (almost) daily workouts. 

All in all, it was a great week.

God, I need a nap.

The boys with our guests -- Father Pat, Declan & John.

Another year of AWESOME!

Today we began the SECOND ANNUAL LEADERSHIP FITNESS CHALLENGE!

The Leadership Fitness Challenge is where it all started for me.  One of my biggest pet peeves is people who say "This changed my life!".  So I am not going to say that.

I will say that this enriched my life.  With fitness, yes, but also with friends, challenges and new kinds of fun. 

This time, I am the leader for my College because our president has one of those schedules that makes you tired just to look at it.  He would do it, but I decided that I would be the leader this year because I KNOW I can make all the workouts and I really want to beat Spohn Hospital.  Not that I am competitive or anything.

I was looking at some shots from the very first LEADERSHIP FITNESS CHALLENGE.

This was after I fell off this damn thing but had to get up and pretend it didn't hurt.  Becasue I was embarassed.

Let's just say that I've come a long way.

Here's to a new year of awesome!  And to beating Spohn Hospital!

I Cry at Weddings

Yesterday, Greg & I went to a wedding of a dear friend of mine.

I remember when she met her husband.  I remember how happy he made (makes) her.

It made me cry.

I cried at the homily.  I cried at the Ave Maria.  I cried at the vows.  I cried at the final blessing. 

Then I went to the reception.

I cried at the toast.  I cried at the father-daughter dance.  I cried at the mother-son dance.  

I can't help it.  It was beautiful.

I haven't been to a wedding in a very long time.  This wedding was really, really great.

The pianist at the mass was world renowned musician Lee Gwodz.  This is the guy that the Pope has over to perform at Christmas.  And he lives in my town.  And he also works out with me.  So he usually sees me sweating in a skort.  I didn't wear a skort to the wedding.

When I went over to say hello, he told me I looked gorgeous.  He meant it.  Kinda made the day that much better for me.

Between the wedding and the reception, Greg & I went for a drink.  We were all dressed up, in a restaurant with no kids.  It was a date.  A fun, flirty, fantastic date.  We reminisced about our wedding and talked of our future.  He did the little things that make me swoon -- held my hand in the street, opened my door, helped me into the truck. . ."boyfriend" stuff.  Only we've been married for almost 19 years. 

At the reception, we spent time with awesome people.  You know how you go someplace like church or the grocery store or someplace and you see people there who you know by sight but you've never actually met?  There was a couple there who goes to our church.  Their kids are older than our kids, so we aren't in the same circles.  We finally introduced ourselves and you know what?  We like them.  We like them a lot.  We are definitely going to be friends with them.

We also saw friends that we just don't get to see enough.  They are "our" friends, but in all actuality, they are "my" friends because I am the one who really knows them.  They were in my leadership class -- that is how I know the bride -- and they know Greg, but they don't really know Greg.  Greg is polite and pleasant but he is not naturally outgoing.  Everybody likes him, but not everybody "gets" him.

And that was the best part of the evening.  As we talked and joked and laughed, they got to know my Greg. 

Then we started dancing.  No one is surprised when I dance crazy, but Greg doesn't come across like a party animal.

He totally is.

And the more we danced, and laughed, and danced some more, the more my friends were falling in love with Greg.  They got to see him the way I know him -- fun and silly and up for anything.  It was so awesome to see that realization on their faces. 

I love weddings.  They make me cry.

Here's wishing Beth and Bert the same happiness that we've had for 19 years!

 


 

Dear Annabel Manners. . . .

One of my favorite bloggers is Annabel Manners.  She's awesome.

I have an etiquette problem that may be a problem for some of you as well, so I am writing my Dear Annabel letter here.

Dear Annabel:

I love Facebook and tend to be somewhat of a . .. . you know.  Rhymes with "door". 

This week I noticed that I had over 450 Facebook friends. 

They are my friends.  Really.  Each of them.

The thing is, some of them are people who are never on facebook, so we rarely connect.  Some of them are people I see ALL THE TIME, so we over connect. 

So I un-facebooked a few.  I un-facebooked 142 to be exact.  I didn't say I un-FRIENDED them.  They are all still my friends -- I hope, anyway.  I meant them to still be friends.  Some people are better friends in person than on line.  In fact, I sent an e-mail to the 142 people explaining that I was limiting my Facebook connections, but I still value their friendship.

Of the 142 people, 140 didn't care.  Hell, they might not have even noticed.  But 2 got offended. 

Both of the 2 who were offended were people I see ALL THE TIME.  It's not like I severed contact.  I didn't disown them.  I didn't delete their e-mails.  I just didn't feel like Facebook added anything to our friendship.

Please, Miss Annabel, tell me what I should do to remedy the situation?  I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings. 

Sincerely,

Mary A


I'll let you know what Miss Annabel says!

The Stylish Blogger

I got another FUN award!

Mommy A from Being Veruca gave me this award:

You know I love getting awards.  I love it!  Look for Being Veruca on my blog roll!

I now have to tell you 7 things about myself. I blog pretty much everything, so you may know some of this already, but. . . .


1.  I have lived in Illinois twice, Texas twice, Colorado, Oklahoma, Wisconsin, California and Arizona.

2. I have never been outside of the country.  That's embarrassing.  I like to think of myself as uber-cosmopolitan, but I am about as cosmopolitan as a screwdriver.  (Get it?  Get it? HAHAHHA)

3. If I write a post I think is funny, I read it over and over hoping for new commenters to tell me how hysterical I am.  Insecure much?

4. I gave up booze with no trouble.  Giving up diet pop and desserts seem to be completely beyond me.

5.  I think Tony Danza has aged really really well and if I hadn't married Greg, I would seriously consider Tony.  Even though he's kinda too old for me. 

6.  I was in the Junior League.   I got dishonorably discharged.  But not for something cool like telling all the snobby beeches to get a life.  Most of the women in the League are really, really cool.  (At least in Corpus Christi).  I got dishonorably discharged because I missed my meeting quota and was too lazy to make them up. 

7.  I cry every time I hear a patriotic song.  Proud to be an American makes me blubber like a tired toddler.

So there are my seven. Now I get to bestow upon 5 fellow bloggers this same honor.

1. Kathryn at Livin' Life the Smart Way!  She my friend IRL, and my running buddy. 

2. Miss Sweet Tea at Sweet Tea Diaries.  She's just ADORABLE!

3. Fuck My Table.    Do I really need to say anymore?

4. Nicki from The Loaded Handbag.  Smart, funny and takes incredible photos.  I have a major girl-crush on her.

5. Rae at Rae's Randomness.  Rae is my cousin-in-law and an incredible person.  Love her!

Thank you Mommy A!

Just so you know. . . .

They were sold out of trees.

In other news, I got to go to a cookie exchange today.  I baked 7 dozen shortbread cookies and took them to a girlfriend's house.  Several other of her friends baked 7 dozen yummy cookies and we traded. 

It was the Christmas I dreamed about -- complete with beautiful little girls in red plaid dresses and stylish women chatting, laughing and sipping coffee.  The home was tastefully and seasonally decorated, the hostess charming, and the company engaging. 

Yes, Virginia, there is a Perfect Christmas Party. It exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy.

O Christmas Tree

Today is the day we are going to get our tree.

Every year we drive to tree lots all over town to pick the biggest, most fragrant tree.  Every year that perfect tree costs somewhere upwards of $80.  So then we go to the grocery store, and buy a $35 tree.

This year?  I'm just going to buy it when I get my groceries.  While I am there, I am sure to leaf through several home magazines.  I will linger wistfully on the perfectly festooned trees in their pages.  There will be an "all-white" tree, a gold themed tree, and maybe even an Indian themed tree.  India is very "in" this year, in case you haven't noticed.  (For the record, I was into India wayyyyy before it got cool. Because Kal Pen is dreamy.  He's not actually from India, but his parents are, I think.  Anyway -- Sigh.)   

I will dream of the day when my home is decorated perfectly for Christmas.  Elegantly dressed family and friends will come from near and far to enjoy home made goodies and hot chocolate.  We will laugh loudly at witty banter, showing our perfect teeth. 

Last year, my friend Kathy made me a very pretty monogrammed ornament.  It would have gone perfectly on my fragrant, monochromatic tree of the future.  It was broken within 3 minutes of getting on the tree. 

Until that Christmas, I will wax sentimental when we pull our shabby ornaments out of storage and place them on the grocery store tree.  I have ornaments from my own childhood, ornaments my kids made, ornaments I bought when we lived in other states, ornaments from friends.  (Except for Kathy, of course.)  For some reason, I have a lot of western themed Santas.  I like 'em. I used to have a beautiful adobe church ornament.  It got broken when our fake tree fell on my then 3 year old.  Damn fake tree.

And in 2020-something, when my boys are strapping young men, my home is perfect and we all wear sweaters despite the South Texas heat, I will miss my shabby tree.

Girls & Girlfriends

No this is not about lesbians. 

Sorry, guys.  (I mean the men guys)

One of the best gifts of fat is that being fat has allowed me to have so many girlfriends.  Weight issues are one of the many things that bond women to each other.  And since I didn't spend my high school years being sired around town by cute guys, I spent lots of Saturday nights with my girlfriends.  Who I totally dumped whenever I DID get a date.  (Karen, Fran, Kristen, Nanci, Leslie, Liz: I'm so sorry!)

There is a type of girl that I pretty much can't stand tho. 

No, it is not the "Skinny Girl". 

In fact, I think it is mean spirited to say "She's so gorgeous, I hate her".  We all say it.  And we think we are being flattering.  But really, we're being mean.  So let's stop it, 'kay?

The girl I can't stand is the girl-hater.

The girl who doesn't have any close girlfriends, just close guy friends.

The girl who would watch football even if she were by herself AND there was a Sex in the City marathon on TV.

The girl whose best Friend is a guy who is madly in love with her but she just doesn't like him like that.

I hate that girl.  Wait.  I don't hate her.  She just bugs me.

Not because I care if her friends are guys.  I don't care if she likes football.  That's not why she bugs me.

She bugs me because she uses men to annoy other girls.

She bugs me because she says things like:  "I prefer guy friends because girls are just so catty"

Really?  Because that was pretty much the cattiest thing I have ever heard anyone say.  Ever.

The funniest thing about girl-haters is that guys can't understand why the rest of us are so annoyed by her.

My husband went to graduate school with one of the worst offenders I have ever met. 

She never said two words to him in school.  When the class got together socially (i.e with significant others),  suddenly she found him fascinating.  She laughed at all his jokes.  Even the really dumb ones.  He wore a crew cut back then & she made a point to run her hands through his hair.  She sat next to him whenever she could.

Don't misunderstand me.  I was not jealous. 

I was not jealous for two reasons.

1.  Greg had no idea she was flirting with him.  If she had given him a lap dance he still wouldn't get it.  Bless him, he just has no idea when someone flirts with him.  Even me.  If I can't be subtly romantic with him.  I have to say "kiss me now" if I want a kiss. 

2.  I knew she didn't like him.

Frankly, I was a little annoyed that she didn't like him because he really was one of the hottest guys in their class.  She really should have liked him.

I thought maybe I was feeling a little jealous, until I happened to chat with a few of the other wives.  She did the exact same thing to their men.  None of us can stand her. 

Fortunately, most girls are girlfriends.  Not girl-haters.

But they are out there.  And we girlfriends are on to them.