Sitting here, working, minding my own business… Kate is napping next to me on the bed.
“Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!” she says. “Mommy? Mommy?”
I lean over, “Yes, Kate?”
She mumbles incoherently, yet with conviction.
Soft snoring resumes.
Holy shit. She was talking in her sleep. That was priceless.
Kate came home from school Wednesday a little tired. Her “report card” from school noted an interrupted nap and that she was “tired, but cooperative.”
Huh? My kid? The energizer bunny rarely loses steam during the day and when she does, she does not become “cooperative.”
Suspicions were realized at 4:00 am when she wandered into our bedroom with a belly ache. And burning up. 103.something. Lovely.
Back to bed with hot feet up against my back and the prospect of a day of lounging around the house. (not a bad idea, really, considering the lack of enthusiasm I’d been feeling at the work shed. now I had a legit excuse.)
Five movies and 4 doses of Tylenol later, she’s back to bed. Still sick. She wasn’t even interested in trying the homemade ice cream we had made earlier in the day. (disturbing? yep, “no” to ice cream and MRA, in a fit of uncontrolled spending had come home from shopping with an ice cream maker. have you seen my ass lately? do you really think this was a reasonable purchase?!?)
“My tummy hurts” failed to materialize into anything gross or disgusting. (although she tooted on me more in one day than her dad has in our life together. and that’s saying A LOT) Just a little whining here and there.
Back to bed, this time with me. And the dog. In the guest room. Back up at 4:00 for more Tylenol. Didn’t need the thermometer to tell me how she felt – the rocket-hot hand on my face moments earlier said it all.
Interestingly enough, after I called her off school today and notified my office that groundhog day had arrived, she took off. No, not down the street, but outside. She’d gone downstairs for something (man, I can’t remember crap these days) and had slipped on her boots and slipped outside. I came downstairs to find Kate and Paddi hunting bugs. Squealing with delight at her new find – a baby praying mantis and a lady bug.
Energy is back. She is fine. The bugs, however, should worry…
P.S. Yesterday – movie day – it rained all day. Perfect for lounging. Today? Now that she’s feeling better? I still can’t take her to school – 24-hour-fever-rule – sunny, not a cloud in the sky. High of 80. Hm… may not be such a bad sick day after all.
It’s 4:45 and I’m done. Ready to wrap up the day, but feel the need to stay until 5:00 (damn German work ethic). So, piddling around, search my computer, I find a gem. GAMES! Usually banned on our office machines, our IT department had clearly overlooked their removal as I stood in the doorway to their workspace, tapping my foot, waiting for my new laptop. (did I mention that one of the guys was actually asleep at his workstation while I was waiting on my new computer? hm… I’d say my tapping was justified.)
So, I sneak in a little Spider Solitaire. Damn addictive game, but it’s a good time killer.
Speeding through round after round, bound to win ONE game before quitting time, I hear footsteps outside my door. Minimizing the screen and pulling up something IMPORTANT, I turn to find… the Talker. The partner who can’t shut up. Crap. If only I had left when the opportunity had presented.
30 minutes later, I’m free.
Geesh. No more games at work. Bad things happen.
Game:
Location:
Players:
Goal:
Overheard:
Each summer, Mike’s siblings gather for a weekend together. No gifts, no agendas. Just time together with the sibs, their spouses and kids.
This year’s adventure destination: Woodward, Oklahoma. Hometown for all and still home to the senior sibling and her family. I know, I know… it’s no Enid, but we managed to find fun, nevertheless.
The weather was spectacular (while STL alternated between hellacious heat and downpours).
The food was plentiful (enough so that I found myself sincerely contemplating a P90X commercial yesterday).
The boys got in some golf. Shocking.
Everyone enjoyed the company.
Kate and her closest-in-age cousin were a riot. Six months apart, yet similarly assertive and stubborn. I thoroughly expected an explosion as they butted heads. Nothing. Hm. Didn’t know what to make of that…
We broke out the sprinkler at one point. Takes you back, doesn’t it?
(You can’t help but notice the huge gap in the suit bottoms. I hadn’t anticipated water fun this weekend – it is Oklahoma afterall – so we grabbed the only non-princess gear at the Wal-Mart Superstore, and she was set. Apparently, she’s not yet a 4-5…)
While MRA and I were off to NY last weekend, we flew his mom up to stay with Kate. She stayed the weekend and through this week as we’re ALL off to Oklahoma this weekend.
“Ugh!” you think. “Not the mother-in-law! For a week!”
Au contraire mon fraire! This one’s a gem. (Believe me, I know. M-I-L #1 was a royal… well… she was a bit problematic.)
“Gammi.” Thus dubbed by her first grandchild, she has worn the mantle now for 16 years. She has and is still nurturing granddaughters without a grandson in sight.
She has a huge soft spot for her own and those they love.
She gives the best hugs. To everyone.
She’s firm to the point where you know she’ll keep Kate’s caterpillars out of the house, keep the kid on schedule, and remind the dog to sit before stealing food.
She’ll make sure your house is well run while you run off to work.
She’ll spoil you with dinner on the table and a freshly washed kid.
She’ll sit and drink a beer with you.
She’ll watch baseball.
She’ll make fun of her son with you and remind you that there is a crown for you in heaven for all of the BS you put up with. Mostly due to her son.
She’ll remind you that YOU chose this family (so buck up!) and laugh with you at its wackiness.
As a former school principal, she’s a bit of a take-no-prisoners gal, but once you’ve felt the glow from Gammi’s love, you know you’re “in”. For good.
She’s one of the good ones.
God bless Gammi.
(Mark, Kirk, Rick & Mike) They clean up pretty well…
Last weekend, MRA and I traveled to the Hudson River Valley for a wedding. A dear friend of us both and golfing pal of Mike’s was marrying a woman from that part of the country. All of the golf guys and spouses were attending and actually serving as groomsmen. Accordingly, golf was scheduled. Twice.
We flew into NYC and drove north. Let me just state for the record that I was blown away.
1. I had no idea the drive would only take an hour.
2. That said, just an hour out of the city, you can easily find yourself in an amazing slice, no swath, of nature.
Who knew?
So, the boys were off to golf Friday morning and I was left, amazingly, alone. Dear god, what to do?!? No one calling me for marketing materials. No husband hounding me to pick up the dry cleaning. No child shouting “Mommy” every other minute. Whoa…
The bride had circulated a list of things to do/see while in the area and the Storm King Art Center sounded sufficiently intriguing. A recent article in the NY Times about Maya Lin’s “Wavefield” sealed the deal.
The hour drive even further north was lovely. Woods, streams, bluffs, and West Point along the way. Radio choices to shame STL. GPS to insure I wouldn’t get lost. (although the NeverLost gal did seem to get a little peeved when I tried to detour to Bear Mountain… after the 7th suggestion to make a “legal u-turn,” I quietly cursed the be-otch in the box and turned around – back on path to Storm King – i thanked her later).
Just as I arrived, friends from the wedding called to invite me to lunch at the Culinary Institute of America. Some of the best food in the country. Hm… no. Thanks, but no. I’ve found God’s country and I’m off to trek.
Parked, left cell in car, grabbed camera. Off. Hm… camera is not responding. WTF. First time traveling with it. Maybe it got bumped. Broken. ARGH!!! With directions into Cornwall and the nearest CVS, I found a new battery and success. (whew)
While I’m not a huge fan of sculpture – it’s usually pretty modern and stark for my liking – the juxtaposition of some of the pieces in this environment was pretty damn breath-taking.
While there was a tram that toured groups around the 500 acres, I had eaten enough crap for b’fast that the walk would do me good. Crossing fields, walking along streams, I felt like a kid again. Back to the “free range kid” notion – I was one and this brought it all back. (Man, I hope Kate can get a taste of this some day.) I saw wildflowers, geese with goslings, turtles, frogs, and the random group of school kids on field trips trying so hard to be cool that they totally missed this stuff. Mostly, I was alone. ALONE. I suppose I am an “I” on the old Meyer-Briggs scale after all.
I chatted with a volunteer at the wall, waiting for one of the school groups to pass. She was probably 70+ and very sweet. Funny. Asked if I knew anything about snakes. “Enough to stay away,” I said. In retrospect, her job would be a pretty nice gig for a couple of days a week.
In addition to the tram, there were paths through the fields. In addition to the paths, there were trails through the woods that surrounded the property. It was awesome. I heard water and followed one of the paths through the woods, down a hill. Although there was a little part of my brain screaming “BAD IDEA” it was easily ignored. Surely there aren’t too many mass murderers hiding in the woods at a sculpture park. (need to stop watching “Law & Order” and put James Patterson down for a while)
Here was the reward.
Wow. Cool water, warm sun, and not another person around.
In my view, art is only as enjoyable as the effect it has on the viewer. I like art that makes me smile – whether that is due to a laugh or a sweet sentiment it inspires. I found an ear in the woods. No, not a fresh-off-the-murdered-human ear, but a 4 foot tall silver sculpture. It made me smile as it reminded me to listen to the woods. The birds singing. The crunch of the leaves and branches on the path. Coming out of the woods, I saw this on the hill.
Tell me that wouldn’t make you laugh! It’s like Pac Man on a hill.
Here’s my own humble photo of the installation that brought me to Storm Center. My pic doesn’t do it justice, and, quite frankly, the Times photo was a bit better than the real thing. But it was cool.
That’s it. The rest of the weekend was full of fun, friends and laughs – the kind of laughs that cause you to check your make-up b/c you laughed so hard you cried. At one point during the rehearsal dinner, MRA was on the edge of making a speech. We wanted to keep Kirk a friend, so we held him back. I don’t remember the progression, but someone likened my husband to a hemorrhoid at one point. “Kelly is the PreparationH.” I’m the salve for my husband the hemorrhoid. You gotta know Mike.
MRA has been traveling A LOT lately.
For the past 6 or 7 weeks he’s been off to Virginia or Maryland for a couple of days each week. Generally, we’ve managed just fine. Some nights, I watch a little too much tv. Some mornings, Kate ends up in bed with me. Mostly, though, daily routines continue until he comes back home.
I wonder, does Kate really think she can pack herself up and go with him?
You’re all aware of Kate’s annual caterpillar fascination… Yesterday we discovered a simple truth:
One caterpillar = interesting, perhaps even a little cute & charming
20 caterpillars in a bug-catcher = the stuff of nightmares and Edgar Allen Poe stories
Yick.