I know its been awhile since I've blogged...well, that's inaccurate. I've been blogging but not publishing them. Still, not as often as I should have. I'm not even really sure why. I've been on a crazy rollercoaster this year. And as it comes to a close, I've decided I need to write more in 2012. In fact, I'd say 2011 was probably tied with 2008 for worst year ever.
Recently a young man that I've met once in my lifetime, a friend of a friend if you will, had posted that I should write a book. He said this in reference to the crazy stuff I put on Facebook about my kids. I was flattered because this guy is NOT the typical audience I would expect to have if I ever did in fact write a book. He has, since, read my blog. Crazy how things happen sometimes.
At any rate...wait for it..."Here I sit...." drinking a glass of red wine and contemplating life. Actually, that's what I've done all day..the contemplating life part. I cleaned my house. Well, not clean like I want to clean. I didn't bust out the Pledge and Windex or mops and Fabuloso but it's vacuumed and picked up and laundry is done. Christmas decor has been packed up. As I look around, I think to myself, wow, as shitty as this apartment is to me....it's been good to us. I will be so glad to leave it in 2012 though. So, I had a helluva time with my Christmas tree this year. Some lights worked, some didn't. I never did get it fully lit. As soon as I laced it with strung lights (probably worst grammar ever...my bad) amongst the burnt out pre-lit bullshit, the entire top half of the tree quit working. I gave up.
Let's rewind for a few. I recently kinda dated or was talking to this guy...and he doesn't get his own blog or introduction just yet because he hates that I blog and I told him I wouldn't blog about him and we were hanging out at his house and he said something to me that really pissed me off at the time. We were talking about our divorces. This was back in October. October was the month Kevin got married. October was the month of our anniversary. October is shit to me. I hate October. And so I'm sitting in this guy's living room after one of the most awkward moments two people can have only for him to say to me, "Just let it go." Really, asshole, let it go? Do you know what its like to walk in my shoes? I have 3 kids with a man that left me and married some white trash whore and all you can say is "Let It Go".....can we not have an adult conversation? I mean, I'm not trying to be all sentimental or cry on your fucking shoulder. Jeez.
Ok, pick up where I was a minute ago. I did not share this mental reaction with him. I sat there sweetly and listened to him tell the story of the demise of his marriage and wondered if that had been me, I would've stayed. No one cheated. It seemed to have been a case of miscommunication and stubbornness. And on the long drive home from his house, I thought about what he had said to me. And the way he said it. So rudely. It has since echoed in my head many times. I hung out with this guy last night for a few. We actually had a conversation about his "Let It Go" and I told him how much it offended me. I told him how rude it was. You know what he said to me. He said he had since thought about that night too and realized that. He also told me that he had a family confrontation (for lack of a better word) and they all told him the same thing about his divorce. He said he'd never say it to me again because he realizes he too, needs to just let it go.
I was tearing down my Christmas tree decor today and when it came to deciding to store or not to store a broken shitty Christmas tree, I paused.....and as Misty said to me, "Take a moment"....took my moment and all I could hear was "Let It Go".....so I did. Off to the dumpster went the first Christmas tree I had in my first house with my complete family. Oddly, this is the same Christmas tree that I let Asa borrow one Christmas. Asa...the messenger of all things evil regarding Kevin's extracurricular lifestyle. Yep, to the trash it went. Next year, I will get another tree. Not even going to worry about it now. It will be a perfect tree.
Sometimes you just gotta "Let It Go"....it really is that simple. More brewing in this head of mine but I'm going to sit on the couch and chill out a bit.
Life is good.
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Thursday, February 10, 2011
The Golden Ticket.....Cloud 9!
Ok, so here I am having just gotten home from the Tightrope CD release party of my all time favorite songwriter, Susan Gibson. I am on a high....the shaking has since subdued but I can't sleep. So blog, I go.
When I was around 14, I would sit in the living room of our condo in Amarillo, TX and I would listen to Gary Wayne and Quincy jam out acoustically song after song so many times that I can remember falling asleep many nights. Back then Gary was in a band called the Groobees. Their first CD, Flying Machine, lacked something overall....and then you'd hear it echo in the background....a female vocal....powerful....just every so often in very few songs. THEN BAM, like Emeril, here she is on their 2nd CD and then BAM here she is in the forefront of all of their shows...their chick singer....the power behind the voice and later I learned the mastermind behind a lot of their lyrics...Susan Freakin' Gibson.
She has this natural beauty about her....scuffed up boots, rugged sweater, hair down or thrown up....a beautiful soul. During my struggle with my weight, I became a huge fan searching for the confidence that she carried in conversation and on stage. Of course, my heart still with Gary Wayne and his riffs....whether electric or acoustic.....but the chick on stage that I was beginning to idolize was Susan. She's not a teeny tiny sex machine like a lot of chick singers, no. She's a good ol' homegrown lyrical genius that can play not only the guitar but so many other instruments. If only I could be like Susan.....a woman who is comfortable in her own skin...something I've never been.
I never had an interest in picking up one of my brother's guitars....too hard. But I've always loved to sing. And I would memorize her parts to all the Groobees CDs. When in Amarillo, we'd go hear them play. When in Dallas, we'd go hear them play. In fact, not even 24 hours after being released from the hospital in Dallas for having spent 7 days in the hospital with pnuemonia, I made Kevin (my now ex-husband) take me to Denton to see a show in a smoke filled bar. I had to go.
I wore these snakeskin printed vinyl pants to her show at Sons of Hermann Hall in Dallas once....and she actually asked if she could have them. Perhaps kidding....did she know I would've gladly traded her pants that day? :-)
Insert Comforts of Home off the Groobees Wayside CD....I would run a bath and jam out to this song..on repeat....hello, concert and audience of and for ONE. Me. Little did I know how that song would hit me several years later....as I became a hermit, confined to my own adventure of self destruction. Food. Avoidance. Weight gain. Disconnect. "At times it seems I just can't wait to lock my doors and hibernate...."
At a Poor David's Pub show in Dallas, I was front row with about 7 or 8 coworkers that were all there because of me and my stellar marketing skills.....I was singing at the top of my lungs...Shut This Place Down...and Susan forgot the words....looks at me as I'm mouthing every single lyric, winks, nodded, smiled, laughed...and said, "Hell I don't know the words but SHE sure does...." and I'm still convinced I cued her back on track.
Quincy used to do karaoke at his house with his sound system and all his friends and of course, the only song I would sing was Susan. He'd put on her CD, turn down the vocals and I'd wail....it always had to be Susan though.
She was at the fair in Dallas one year....oh wait, 2005 to be exact. My son, Kyan, was only a few months old and it was hot as hell. We got a picture of me holding Kyan with Susan next to us. It was one of my favorite pics ever. I put it in a baby book of his and labeled it...."Me and Mom with her all time favorite songwriters. She's famous, ya know." Then, last year, Kyan got the privilege of having her sign this book at her show in Austin at Patsy's Cowgirl Cafe....
I got to meet her right hand girl, Jana, and am in just as much awe of her as I am Susan. Jana is also a good soul. You can just tell. Let's not overlook either of their talents...She engaged in conversation with me and actually inquired about the boys and such. That's a definite feel good moment I don't care who you are. I'm not a psycho stalker type fan. I do keep up via facebook, twitter, newsletter, all the happenings of several of my favorite musicians...local or otherwise. But for Susan's shows, I'll pay a babysitter, pay a cover, sit through opening acts, and will even go solo to the gigs....parking several blocks away in the cold and walking.
Her music tells a story for me. While some of the words don't fit just right to the happenings of my life...I can remember getting ready for a date while listening to this song or that song...driving on a road trip here or there, remembering who I was with at a particular show....what I was going through when this CD came out or that one....
My first "real" concert that I ever went to was at American Airlines Center in Dallas, TX. It was the Dixie Chicks. I was in my 20s. And before you think that's lame.....I've only been to 4 concerts in my life, to date....and I just turned 32. Anyway, when they played Wide Open Spaces, I remember crinkling up my nose...it wasn't the version I knew.....or that I sang. It wasn't Susan's version.
I've encountered my fair share of heartaches in my lifetime...and Not My Man is now scratched and skips when I play it.....but you know what, I can sing through the skips. I know exactly where they are on the CD. Anyone that travels in my car will get to witness (in no order) 1) some John Mayer 2) my awesome Shakira impression and 3) they will get to endure music by Susan and/or The Groobees.
I drive to Waco every other Friday and drop the kids to Kevin who lives in Dallas....and I've stopped letting people come with me on these drives because having someone sit in the passenger seat for 120 miles when all you really want to do is sing Susan Gibson all the way home, is well, just annoying. I have finally confessed this tidbit of info to my friends who became offended...."Its' not you, it's me. I just like the solitude and well, I like to sing as if no one is listening....."
My most meaningful show was last year at Patsy's Cowgirl Cafe not only because she signed Kyan's baby book and the boys got to meet the voice behind the CDs we listen to in the car but because I casually made mention of my divorce and she referenced her song "Baby Teeth".....And from that second on, that song took on a whole new meaning for me.....
So, for the past year I've waited for this CD to come out. I had to go tonight. So, I paid a sitter to watch the boys, begged my brother to come so I wouldn't have to go alone, ATM'd my last $100 before my IRS refund deposits at midnight....and as a last minute mention, invited my friend Stephanie to come out. Now Stephanie and I are going to the Broken Spoke this weekend. It was a total surprise that she even listened to country type music....anyway, she agreed to come.
We arrive, I buy a CD and it doesn't contain the golden ticket. I'm a little saddened. A sinking feeling in my gut. Really?!? How could I not win? I may not be her biggest fan but a fan I am, for sure. I mean, if you were to ask my brother, he would put money on it that I was.....I mean, I even sing the guitar riffs....the bow neow, duh, nnn, doo, doos.....c'mon! I still have my Groobees sweatshirt, hat, do-rag.....how could Khaki, of all people, not win?!?! Whatever, I don't, so I go in and find the closest seat I can.
At their first break, Stephanie is toe-tappin, beer drinkin, and singing along....she goes to buy the CD. I go outside with Quincy. I tell her before I go, "If you win, it's mine." We laugh. I come back inside, she comes up to me and says, "Now, Khaki, there's just one thing.....you have to take me with you to the Thai food dinner." It dawns on me (as that's one of the perks the golden keyholder gets)............Steph won!!!!! WHAT?!?!!?! No way!!! I just introduced her to the greatness that is Susan. This is her first Susan experience. But wait, she just gave it to me!!!!!!!!! Holyfuckingshit!!!!!! No way. I don't win anything.....EVER...and while technically I didn't win this, I did.
Stephanie, my newest and closest friend....one of two (out of a total of 22 invited) that came to my birthday party, that didn't bail on me.....that eats sushi with me.....that listens to me rant about my horrid dating stories and the douchebags I continue to meet.....we won!!! Wowzie. I'm stoked.
Jana takes a picture of me, Steph, and Susan. Hello, Awesome. And we talked about Thai food. I can't wait.
Now, I just wish she had done Willin'.............that's one of my favorites that she does. In fact, she's the first person I've ever heard do that song. Quincy had to tell me it was an old Linda Ronstadt song. She did it at Saxon Pub here in Austin not that long ago and I was at that show by myself....except for the new friends I had made at the bar.....but when she belted out that song, I teared up. Love it! I didn't see it coming as it had been YEARS since I had heard her do it.
"Words make you think a thought. Music makes you feel a feeling. A song makes you feel a thought."
E.Y. Harburg
I love to write but I can never express my thoughts like those others have put to song. - Khaki
When I was around 14, I would sit in the living room of our condo in Amarillo, TX and I would listen to Gary Wayne and Quincy jam out acoustically song after song so many times that I can remember falling asleep many nights. Back then Gary was in a band called the Groobees. Their first CD, Flying Machine, lacked something overall....and then you'd hear it echo in the background....a female vocal....powerful....just every so often in very few songs. THEN BAM, like Emeril, here she is on their 2nd CD and then BAM here she is in the forefront of all of their shows...their chick singer....the power behind the voice and later I learned the mastermind behind a lot of their lyrics...Susan Freakin' Gibson.
She has this natural beauty about her....scuffed up boots, rugged sweater, hair down or thrown up....a beautiful soul. During my struggle with my weight, I became a huge fan searching for the confidence that she carried in conversation and on stage. Of course, my heart still with Gary Wayne and his riffs....whether electric or acoustic.....but the chick on stage that I was beginning to idolize was Susan. She's not a teeny tiny sex machine like a lot of chick singers, no. She's a good ol' homegrown lyrical genius that can play not only the guitar but so many other instruments. If only I could be like Susan.....a woman who is comfortable in her own skin...something I've never been.
I never had an interest in picking up one of my brother's guitars....too hard. But I've always loved to sing. And I would memorize her parts to all the Groobees CDs. When in Amarillo, we'd go hear them play. When in Dallas, we'd go hear them play. In fact, not even 24 hours after being released from the hospital in Dallas for having spent 7 days in the hospital with pnuemonia, I made Kevin (my now ex-husband) take me to Denton to see a show in a smoke filled bar. I had to go.
I wore these snakeskin printed vinyl pants to her show at Sons of Hermann Hall in Dallas once....and she actually asked if she could have them. Perhaps kidding....did she know I would've gladly traded her pants that day? :-)
Insert Comforts of Home off the Groobees Wayside CD....I would run a bath and jam out to this song..on repeat....hello, concert and audience of and for ONE. Me. Little did I know how that song would hit me several years later....as I became a hermit, confined to my own adventure of self destruction. Food. Avoidance. Weight gain. Disconnect. "At times it seems I just can't wait to lock my doors and hibernate...."
At a Poor David's Pub show in Dallas, I was front row with about 7 or 8 coworkers that were all there because of me and my stellar marketing skills.....I was singing at the top of my lungs...Shut This Place Down...and Susan forgot the words....looks at me as I'm mouthing every single lyric, winks, nodded, smiled, laughed...and said, "Hell I don't know the words but SHE sure does...." and I'm still convinced I cued her back on track.
Quincy used to do karaoke at his house with his sound system and all his friends and of course, the only song I would sing was Susan. He'd put on her CD, turn down the vocals and I'd wail....it always had to be Susan though.
She was at the fair in Dallas one year....oh wait, 2005 to be exact. My son, Kyan, was only a few months old and it was hot as hell. We got a picture of me holding Kyan with Susan next to us. It was one of my favorite pics ever. I put it in a baby book of his and labeled it...."Me and Mom with her all time favorite songwriters. She's famous, ya know." Then, last year, Kyan got the privilege of having her sign this book at her show in Austin at Patsy's Cowgirl Cafe....
I got to meet her right hand girl, Jana, and am in just as much awe of her as I am Susan. Jana is also a good soul. You can just tell. Let's not overlook either of their talents...She engaged in conversation with me and actually inquired about the boys and such. That's a definite feel good moment I don't care who you are. I'm not a psycho stalker type fan. I do keep up via facebook, twitter, newsletter, all the happenings of several of my favorite musicians...local or otherwise. But for Susan's shows, I'll pay a babysitter, pay a cover, sit through opening acts, and will even go solo to the gigs....parking several blocks away in the cold and walking.
Her music tells a story for me. While some of the words don't fit just right to the happenings of my life...I can remember getting ready for a date while listening to this song or that song...driving on a road trip here or there, remembering who I was with at a particular show....what I was going through when this CD came out or that one....
My first "real" concert that I ever went to was at American Airlines Center in Dallas, TX. It was the Dixie Chicks. I was in my 20s. And before you think that's lame.....I've only been to 4 concerts in my life, to date....and I just turned 32. Anyway, when they played Wide Open Spaces, I remember crinkling up my nose...it wasn't the version I knew.....or that I sang. It wasn't Susan's version.
I've encountered my fair share of heartaches in my lifetime...and Not My Man is now scratched and skips when I play it.....but you know what, I can sing through the skips. I know exactly where they are on the CD. Anyone that travels in my car will get to witness (in no order) 1) some John Mayer 2) my awesome Shakira impression and 3) they will get to endure music by Susan and/or The Groobees.
I drive to Waco every other Friday and drop the kids to Kevin who lives in Dallas....and I've stopped letting people come with me on these drives because having someone sit in the passenger seat for 120 miles when all you really want to do is sing Susan Gibson all the way home, is well, just annoying. I have finally confessed this tidbit of info to my friends who became offended...."Its' not you, it's me. I just like the solitude and well, I like to sing as if no one is listening....."
My most meaningful show was last year at Patsy's Cowgirl Cafe not only because she signed Kyan's baby book and the boys got to meet the voice behind the CDs we listen to in the car but because I casually made mention of my divorce and she referenced her song "Baby Teeth".....And from that second on, that song took on a whole new meaning for me.....
So, for the past year I've waited for this CD to come out. I had to go tonight. So, I paid a sitter to watch the boys, begged my brother to come so I wouldn't have to go alone, ATM'd my last $100 before my IRS refund deposits at midnight....and as a last minute mention, invited my friend Stephanie to come out. Now Stephanie and I are going to the Broken Spoke this weekend. It was a total surprise that she even listened to country type music....anyway, she agreed to come.
We arrive, I buy a CD and it doesn't contain the golden ticket. I'm a little saddened. A sinking feeling in my gut. Really?!? How could I not win? I may not be her biggest fan but a fan I am, for sure. I mean, if you were to ask my brother, he would put money on it that I was.....I mean, I even sing the guitar riffs....the bow neow, duh, nnn, doo, doos.....c'mon! I still have my Groobees sweatshirt, hat, do-rag.....how could Khaki, of all people, not win?!?! Whatever, I don't, so I go in and find the closest seat I can.
At their first break, Stephanie is toe-tappin, beer drinkin, and singing along....she goes to buy the CD. I go outside with Quincy. I tell her before I go, "If you win, it's mine." We laugh. I come back inside, she comes up to me and says, "Now, Khaki, there's just one thing.....you have to take me with you to the Thai food dinner." It dawns on me (as that's one of the perks the golden keyholder gets)............Steph won!!!!! WHAT?!?!!?! No way!!! I just introduced her to the greatness that is Susan. This is her first Susan experience. But wait, she just gave it to me!!!!!!!!! Holyfuckingshit!!!!!! No way. I don't win anything.....EVER...and while technically I didn't win this, I did.
Stephanie, my newest and closest friend....one of two (out of a total of 22 invited) that came to my birthday party, that didn't bail on me.....that eats sushi with me.....that listens to me rant about my horrid dating stories and the douchebags I continue to meet.....we won!!! Wowzie. I'm stoked.
Jana takes a picture of me, Steph, and Susan. Hello, Awesome. And we talked about Thai food. I can't wait.
Now, I just wish she had done Willin'.............that's one of my favorites that she does. In fact, she's the first person I've ever heard do that song. Quincy had to tell me it was an old Linda Ronstadt song. She did it at Saxon Pub here in Austin not that long ago and I was at that show by myself....except for the new friends I had made at the bar.....but when she belted out that song, I teared up. Love it! I didn't see it coming as it had been YEARS since I had heard her do it.
"Words make you think a thought. Music makes you feel a feeling. A song makes you feel a thought."
E.Y. Harburg
I love to write but I can never express my thoughts like those others have put to song. - Khaki
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Sick, Sicker, Sickest
Here I am sick....coughing, sweats, chills, fever, congestion, coughing turned hacking up a lung or two......aches....and have to go to work tomorrow. So, me and the boys were all sick this weekend and it was the worst weekend we've had in a long time. They weren't supposed to be here this weekend but due to weather in Dallas, we did not do the exchange. God, I hope Kevin wasn't bullshitting about not being able to drive to get the boys because its been hell.
Now, if there's anywhere I want my babies to be when they're sick, it's home with me. But have you ever had to care for 3 little ones when YOU feel like shit? It sucks. On top of the living room flooding and these big loud fans everywhere, carpet ripped up, maintenance coming in and out.....blah!!!!
As soon as one kid is up and at 'em, I have 2 down....and vice versa.....I'd turn on the air only for them to want heat....and it just sucked. I didn't even feel like cooking....I just wanted to lay. I took probably 4 or 5 showers each day because laying around just makes me feel nasty. I did keep up w/ most of the laundry....but I'm so ready to feel better.
Now, I cussed Kevin a lot this weekend. While he's in his nice little 3 bedroom home w/ his white trash girlfriend taking care of him.....trust me, he's a pussy when he's sick, I know. I took care of his ass for 12 years when he was sick....at any rate, while he's resting and probably sleeping uninterrupted...I'm not....and neither are his boys....so here we all are sick. When do I get to take a sick day from being a Mom? I was just sick w/ this crud a few weeks ago too when I had the boys 3 weeks straight. Had a steroid shot, meds, and a sick kid then too. I need a break.
Tomorrow Kevin comes to town for court and I've sent him a text that he needs to pick up the boys from my mom's and take them to the doctor. I'm sure he'll say some shit like, "I have to get back so I can get to bed to go to work" and that is going to royally piss me off. He can pull a late night drive to help me with the boys for one fucking day.
Kevin has no clue. NO clue....what life for me is like and I just get pissed off at him when I think about it.
And so cheers to being sick and getting well. Lord, I hope this string of bad is going to leave soon. All in favor of March turning 2011 around say Yay. Yay.
Now, if there's anywhere I want my babies to be when they're sick, it's home with me. But have you ever had to care for 3 little ones when YOU feel like shit? It sucks. On top of the living room flooding and these big loud fans everywhere, carpet ripped up, maintenance coming in and out.....blah!!!!
As soon as one kid is up and at 'em, I have 2 down....and vice versa.....I'd turn on the air only for them to want heat....and it just sucked. I didn't even feel like cooking....I just wanted to lay. I took probably 4 or 5 showers each day because laying around just makes me feel nasty. I did keep up w/ most of the laundry....but I'm so ready to feel better.
Now, I cussed Kevin a lot this weekend. While he's in his nice little 3 bedroom home w/ his white trash girlfriend taking care of him.....trust me, he's a pussy when he's sick, I know. I took care of his ass for 12 years when he was sick....at any rate, while he's resting and probably sleeping uninterrupted...I'm not....and neither are his boys....so here we all are sick. When do I get to take a sick day from being a Mom? I was just sick w/ this crud a few weeks ago too when I had the boys 3 weeks straight. Had a steroid shot, meds, and a sick kid then too. I need a break.
Tomorrow Kevin comes to town for court and I've sent him a text that he needs to pick up the boys from my mom's and take them to the doctor. I'm sure he'll say some shit like, "I have to get back so I can get to bed to go to work" and that is going to royally piss me off. He can pull a late night drive to help me with the boys for one fucking day.
Kevin has no clue. NO clue....what life for me is like and I just get pissed off at him when I think about it.
And so cheers to being sick and getting well. Lord, I hope this string of bad is going to leave soon. All in favor of March turning 2011 around say Yay. Yay.
Younger, I think not.
Ok, so I promised this note a few days ago. I have never dated a younger guy until after my divorce (almost 2 years ago). The youngest guy I had dated up to that point was actually 12 days older than me. Does anyone remember Nick Hilleary? Ok, stop. Let's carry on.
I have gone out with a few guys in the past 6-7 months that were younger than I was. I know I've had some life experiences that have made me smarter and wiser than most but come on, really? These age differences are merely 3-4 years, not 10+. Isn't there a point in adulthood where age really doesn't matter? I know I have several dear girl friends and our age differences don't matter at all.
To save time, because trust me, this one guy in particular isn't worth the time I'm spending on this note/blog...I will paraphrase.
If I travel to Houston to see you, don't assume I'm spending the night. And I have no desire for black satin sheets with gold trim even if I did stay the night. At 28 years old, I just think a guy who is "ready to find the right girl and take life seriously" should know a few things about impressing a lady....first of all, the shot glass collection next to the lava lamp in your room.....they need to go. You don't have to get rid of them but let's save them in a box somewhere and we'll bust them out at a barbeque in the summer or something...or we'll teach the boys how to juggle with them. Yes, I said lava lamp...purple and orange...and I'm all for keeping things "old school" but that's like an old Pac Man game or something...not the ENTIRE collection of VHS ever made....and if you have to take 20 minutes to clear your entire internet history/cache just so I can log into class and post a discussion real quick, there might be issues in our future....I mean really.
If you want to cook for me, fine, fabulous, great, but I'm not worth a lot of effort given my reduced stomach capacity. And furthermore, me + food network = besties. Just know that I'm fine with Whataburger at 11pm if it means you are about to take some chicken leg quarters you got on sale and "have to cook before they go bad" or if you have to ask me, "do these smell okay?" before you put them in a skillet, there are probably better options. Sweetie, don't add the package gravy mix to the raw chicken in the skillet. Oh and this is like date #3-ish (first without mutual friends/family).....we're still in the impress stage!!!! Asking me to help you cook (when, honestly, I can't tell wtf you're doing and am not sure its cooking anyway) and then telling me how to make instant mashed potatoes, isn't making me like you more. Thank God, I brought my own bottle of wine.
Oh and those playlists you have playing in your room, those titled "For the Ladies #1" and "They want more" need some tweeking. I will say , "Sure Thing"..was okay but that's because I have a lame gene and happen to like Kenny G but wouldn't say he's your golden ticket to those satin sheets.
Rewind to earlier in the day when we were shopping, I think it's great that you were trying to help me finish up my shopping for my boys knowing I don't have many kid-free weekends but when we walk into Toys R Us and you have to ask me, "Why are there kids screaming in here?".....we should probably go home....or you should...then 3 times, asking me for Excedrin because its on your nerves, just know that I will never let you around my kids...especially Kasyn.
And for some reason, that thumb ring you wear, really bothers me. But not as much as the drunk text you sent me New Year's Eve that I can't even repeat on here. That has got to be one of the most degrading, disgusting texts I have ever received...and trust me, I receive them often. And when I tell you this, you laugh rather than apologize? When I said, "Perhaps we aren't compatible. I wish you the best." And you come back with, "Whatever, I have time, money, and a career"......uh huh. Is this where I was supposed to engage in the "one-up" game?
And for the record, yes, it was very weird to ask the 10 year old boy to take a picture of us at the ice skating rink and then use it as your fb profile the second I left town. Weird-o
And dating older wasn't all that great either. The older guy I dated was like 8 years older and a complete ass. I'm not saying age defines the general species or gender....I'm saying I haven't had luck with the few that I've dated younger or older.
But yay for entertaining stories to share with my single friends who should be cautious and my married friends who should be grateful they aren't missing out on anything.
I really want to attach the picture from the skating rink but I'm going to have to save that for the blog. I've already had to block this from a few people. :-D
This was originally from an event back in December but posted to fb Jan. 20, 2011.
I have gone out with a few guys in the past 6-7 months that were younger than I was. I know I've had some life experiences that have made me smarter and wiser than most but come on, really? These age differences are merely 3-4 years, not 10+. Isn't there a point in adulthood where age really doesn't matter? I know I have several dear girl friends and our age differences don't matter at all.
To save time, because trust me, this one guy in particular isn't worth the time I'm spending on this note/blog...I will paraphrase.
If I travel to Houston to see you, don't assume I'm spending the night. And I have no desire for black satin sheets with gold trim even if I did stay the night. At 28 years old, I just think a guy who is "ready to find the right girl and take life seriously" should know a few things about impressing a lady....first of all, the shot glass collection next to the lava lamp in your room.....they need to go. You don't have to get rid of them but let's save them in a box somewhere and we'll bust them out at a barbeque in the summer or something...or we'll teach the boys how to juggle with them. Yes, I said lava lamp...purple and orange...and I'm all for keeping things "old school" but that's like an old Pac Man game or something...not the ENTIRE collection of VHS ever made....and if you have to take 20 minutes to clear your entire internet history/cache just so I can log into class and post a discussion real quick, there might be issues in our future....I mean really.
If you want to cook for me, fine, fabulous, great, but I'm not worth a lot of effort given my reduced stomach capacity. And furthermore, me + food network = besties. Just know that I'm fine with Whataburger at 11pm if it means you are about to take some chicken leg quarters you got on sale and "have to cook before they go bad" or if you have to ask me, "do these smell okay?" before you put them in a skillet, there are probably better options. Sweetie, don't add the package gravy mix to the raw chicken in the skillet. Oh and this is like date #3-ish (first without mutual friends/family).....we're still in the impress stage!!!! Asking me to help you cook (when, honestly, I can't tell wtf you're doing and am not sure its cooking anyway) and then telling me how to make instant mashed potatoes, isn't making me like you more. Thank God, I brought my own bottle of wine.
Oh and those playlists you have playing in your room, those titled "For the Ladies #1" and "They want more" need some tweeking. I will say , "Sure Thing"..was okay but that's because I have a lame gene and happen to like Kenny G but wouldn't say he's your golden ticket to those satin sheets.
Rewind to earlier in the day when we were shopping, I think it's great that you were trying to help me finish up my shopping for my boys knowing I don't have many kid-free weekends but when we walk into Toys R Us and you have to ask me, "Why are there kids screaming in here?".....we should probably go home....or you should...then 3 times, asking me for Excedrin because its on your nerves, just know that I will never let you around my kids...especially Kasyn.
And for some reason, that thumb ring you wear, really bothers me. But not as much as the drunk text you sent me New Year's Eve that I can't even repeat on here. That has got to be one of the most degrading, disgusting texts I have ever received...and trust me, I receive them often. And when I tell you this, you laugh rather than apologize? When I said, "Perhaps we aren't compatible. I wish you the best." And you come back with, "Whatever, I have time, money, and a career"......uh huh. Is this where I was supposed to engage in the "one-up" game?
And for the record, yes, it was very weird to ask the 10 year old boy to take a picture of us at the ice skating rink and then use it as your fb profile the second I left town. Weird-o
And dating older wasn't all that great either. The older guy I dated was like 8 years older and a complete ass. I'm not saying age defines the general species or gender....I'm saying I haven't had luck with the few that I've dated younger or older.
But yay for entertaining stories to share with my single friends who should be cautious and my married friends who should be grateful they aren't missing out on anything.
I really want to attach the picture from the skating rink but I'm going to have to save that for the blog. I've already had to block this from a few people. :-D
This was originally from an event back in December but posted to fb Jan. 20, 2011.
The easy years, MY ASS!
So, whoever said that these are the easy years, the toddler/elementary/young years, are full of shit. Tonight I had the joy of driving the 125 miles to Waco and back to pick up my boys from their dad. Things were pleasant. We met at the gas station where the boys were finishing up their Sonic in the car and I joked with Kevin about his choice in attire (red polo and khaki pants) asking him "Since when do you work at Target?" and then playfully asked where my dinner was to which Kyan replied, "We forgot your cheesesticks." (see, he knows) Then we have the wonderful bathroom experience where they often go between using the women's with me and the men's with Kevin....it's hilarious, actually. Whatever works.
Since Kevin wasn't generous this evening in ordering me the cheesesticks from Sonic that I've eaten for the better part of 5 years, me and the boys head to Sonic. Lol. We're waiting for my food and I look back at Kyan who is clinching his fists and squinting his eyes so hard that he looks like a constipated sumo wrestler. I asked, "KYAN, what are you doing, son?" He looks at me shyly, "I wish so bad Mommy this wish that I can't tell you." Me kind of laughing, "Just tell me, Ky." Him adamant, "NO, it won't come true and I'm wishing so hard." Me, "Maybe instead of wishing we can just pray about it...together and God can make it come true." (And really, I was thinking this wish was for the latest and greatest XBox game or something....lego structure....not THIS)
He holds out his hand and says, "Grab my hand and I'll say it." I, with one hand, grab his little hand and he's squints his eyes so tight and clinches his other fist, "Dear God....Mommy, close your eyes!....Dear God, I wish you would sneak into Daddy's heart and make him marry Mommy again. Please, oh, please, make this wish come true. Amen."
Me, insert gulp and speechlessness.
Kyan, "That was a good job, huh? I bet he heard it because I was wishing extra hard and he has these huge ears. Kasyn, did you know God has the biggest ears in the world?" Kasyn shocked, "That's wheely wheely big."
Me, insert tears. I have NO idea what to say and was wishing it was the Harry Potter Lego castle he "wished" for.....Wow. That kid is something else. So, I immediately send a short version text to my brother and sister.
Quincy's reply, "Awe, we've been there too. Hurts. Ky is such a smilemaker. Hang tuff." I remember that. Wishing my parents would get married....also that they'd get divorced. Catch 22. But I was a teenager.
Kyan is only 5 and was only 3 when we divorced. I can't believe his brain sometimes. Then he's drawing zig zags on this pillow in his lap and says, "Guess what I'm drawing, Mommy." Me, "A rollercoaster mountain?" Him, "Nope, it's me going back and forth to Mommy's, Daddy's, Mommy's, Daddy's.....and I'm sooooo tired of it. Do you know where Ms. Georgia lives? Maybe you can get a house next to her's and we can live next to Daddy so it won't be 10 days, 7 days, 12 days, forever days. It will just be everyday." Me, "I can't live next to Ms. Georgia, honey. My whole family is here and I would be sad to leave them."
Then Kamdyn screams so loud you'd think he just got shocked or something. I ask him what's wrong. "I MISS DADDY!!!!!!! I DIDN'T GIVE HIM ANOTHER HUG." He goes on for a long time.....crying for his Dad. I got out and crawled in the back and gave him a hug and wiped his tears and told him over and over that it was okay to be sad and to miss Daddy. But that we were going to have a fun time this weekend. We're going to try to ride horses, etc......he stopped for a second.....only a second. Then SCREAM........
"Hey guys, do you want a milkshake? Let's get milkshakes!!" (ice cream is comfort food for some people, right?) I get the shakes. Kamdyn wants a "Daddy shake." I make a joke about how that would not taste good...it would have eyeballs and guts and toes in it. He didn't think it was funny. Then, thank GOD, Kyan burps so loud everyone started laughing.
So, I ask the boys what songs they want me to play on the ipod. Distract, distract, distract. Ky gets to pick first. "Be OK" by Ingrid Michaelson. No shit? Really, Kyan? The song I listened to every single morning for 3 months straight after my divorce.
And we're off....BE OK it is.....for about 40 miles on repeat until they fall asleep.
The easy years my ass!
This post was originally from Jan 17, 2011.
Since Kevin wasn't generous this evening in ordering me the cheesesticks from Sonic that I've eaten for the better part of 5 years, me and the boys head to Sonic. Lol. We're waiting for my food and I look back at Kyan who is clinching his fists and squinting his eyes so hard that he looks like a constipated sumo wrestler. I asked, "KYAN, what are you doing, son?" He looks at me shyly, "I wish so bad Mommy this wish that I can't tell you." Me kind of laughing, "Just tell me, Ky." Him adamant, "NO, it won't come true and I'm wishing so hard." Me, "Maybe instead of wishing we can just pray about it...together and God can make it come true." (And really, I was thinking this wish was for the latest and greatest XBox game or something....lego structure....not THIS)
He holds out his hand and says, "Grab my hand and I'll say it." I, with one hand, grab his little hand and he's squints his eyes so tight and clinches his other fist, "Dear God....Mommy, close your eyes!....Dear God, I wish you would sneak into Daddy's heart and make him marry Mommy again. Please, oh, please, make this wish come true. Amen."
Me, insert gulp and speechlessness.
Kyan, "That was a good job, huh? I bet he heard it because I was wishing extra hard and he has these huge ears. Kasyn, did you know God has the biggest ears in the world?" Kasyn shocked, "That's wheely wheely big."
Me, insert tears. I have NO idea what to say and was wishing it was the Harry Potter Lego castle he "wished" for.....Wow. That kid is something else. So, I immediately send a short version text to my brother and sister.
Quincy's reply, "Awe, we've been there too. Hurts. Ky is such a smilemaker. Hang tuff." I remember that. Wishing my parents would get married....also that they'd get divorced. Catch 22. But I was a teenager.
Kyan is only 5 and was only 3 when we divorced. I can't believe his brain sometimes. Then he's drawing zig zags on this pillow in his lap and says, "Guess what I'm drawing, Mommy." Me, "A rollercoaster mountain?" Him, "Nope, it's me going back and forth to Mommy's, Daddy's, Mommy's, Daddy's.....and I'm sooooo tired of it. Do you know where Ms. Georgia lives? Maybe you can get a house next to her's and we can live next to Daddy so it won't be 10 days, 7 days, 12 days, forever days. It will just be everyday." Me, "I can't live next to Ms. Georgia, honey. My whole family is here and I would be sad to leave them."
Then Kamdyn screams so loud you'd think he just got shocked or something. I ask him what's wrong. "I MISS DADDY!!!!!!! I DIDN'T GIVE HIM ANOTHER HUG." He goes on for a long time.....crying for his Dad. I got out and crawled in the back and gave him a hug and wiped his tears and told him over and over that it was okay to be sad and to miss Daddy. But that we were going to have a fun time this weekend. We're going to try to ride horses, etc......he stopped for a second.....only a second. Then SCREAM........
"Hey guys, do you want a milkshake? Let's get milkshakes!!" (ice cream is comfort food for some people, right?) I get the shakes. Kamdyn wants a "Daddy shake." I make a joke about how that would not taste good...it would have eyeballs and guts and toes in it. He didn't think it was funny. Then, thank GOD, Kyan burps so loud everyone started laughing.
So, I ask the boys what songs they want me to play on the ipod. Distract, distract, distract. Ky gets to pick first. "Be OK" by Ingrid Michaelson. No shit? Really, Kyan? The song I listened to every single morning for 3 months straight after my divorce.
And we're off....BE OK it is.....for about 40 miles on repeat until they fall asleep.
The easy years my ass!
This post was originally from Jan 17, 2011.
More Moronic Encounters
So, those that follow my blog know I'm overdue for an update. Yes, I've gotten your emails. Those that don't. You don't need to. :-)
I've just been busy. I have a few guy friends that have asked for an update on my dating life (or lack thereof) and while my moronic encounters have been fewer lately, they still exist so please find humor. I actually find humor that more guys like my dating stories than my female friends. So, for you guys, here it is.
I have shared with many that I'm not looking for some guy to fit some mold that I've created in my mind. I'm open but am strongly considering the mental development of a mold. I mean, I do have standards and am learning how to focus in on red flags immediately. So, in the past 2 years, I've definitely gotten smarter. I drive my boys to Waco every other Friday and pick them up every other Sunday. Their dad, my ex-husband, resides in Dallas so this is where we meet for the exchange. Exit 353 and back. Usually, I come home late on Friday nights, case in point, it is almost midnight and I just got home from an exchange. So, not much time for anything other than a hot shower and my DVR. On a rare occasion, I do go out though.
Several weeks back, I got home in time to catch a Spurs game and wanted to have a glass of wine so I went to Little Woodrow's....a bar up the street with decent music, tons of TVs with every sports game on [not to mention my purse full of BOGs to spend there (gift certs, if you will -my sis works for their corporate office)]. I was going to watch the Spurs game (hate the Spurs, love the Mavs, but keep up with stats of most of the teams, esp Mavs rivals). So, there I sit watching the Spurs game enjoying an overdue glass of wine. I don't hang out in bars regularly or anything but when I do, I find a seat near NO ONE. I think bars are the worst places to meet people but do find enjoyment in watching people. I could be entertained at an airport for days, just observing.
I'm sitting there for about 10 minutes and a guy sits next to me. I avoid all eye contact. I made a small outburst in victory when one of Spurs got fouled. So, I guess stranger-now-sitting-too-close took this as an invitation for a lame ice breaker. "I take it you aren't a Spurs fan?" Me, not looking at him, "No, prefer the Mavs." Him, "High five to that one."
Ok, stop. Are you really going to high five me? I didn't say this but thought it. I smiled, fakely, leaving him and his high five hanging. Long story short, he said something that kind of ticked me off.....statistics about basketball in general. I then made a huge mistake. I turned in his direction, made eye contact and engaged in conversation, albeit debate.
He had 3 beers during the time I was there and several times mentioned his girlfriend in Chicago. So, here I go all Dr. Phil on him. "Why are you sad? You chose a long distance relationship. How long have you been together? It's almost Christmas, you should surprise her." Many lines similar to that hinting to invest in the relationship. He went from missing her to "I don't think it's going to work out with us. I should get out of the relationship and start anew."
I used to work for this venues corporate office as their accountant and know some of the people that work there. One of the barbacks always speaks Spanish to me. I am not fluent but can get by with general Espanol conversation. Random-weird-guy-that-I-wish-would-hop-on-a-flight-to-Chicago-NOW starts asking me what I do for a living. I would like to point out that we all know this is really a blatant way to guage how much money one makes.
At any rate, this guy was an Immigration Attorney. "Oh really, specializing in?" His reply, "Immigrants from Mexico." (not the answer I was looking for, Mr. Educated Attorney) I countered, "Ahh, so you speak Spanish?" Him, "Not at all but if I did it would really help my career." Me, "You think?" (duh) For some reason he then felt the need to ask me what I drove. SERIOUSLY? Guys, take note. Lame question to which I will always answer honestly. "A minivan." He laughs. Me, "¿Entonces ahora soy gracioso?" (so now I"m funny?) At this point, I had been trying to flag down the bartender for my check....for the half consumed ONE glass of wine. Amazing how a stranger can be an instant buzzkill. I've got to be better at dissing someone. We talk casually for a bit longer and he's decided that my name is not Khaki, it's "Boo"....and that perhaps I'm a dog because he's pet my hair a few times. WEIRD and I say, "Did you really just pet my hair? I don't like people to touch my hair, or me." Then he tells me he drives a "shiny red 3000GT"....to which I say, "didnt' they stop making those awhile back?" (insert fake laugh to mock him from earlier)
A-ha, check has arrived, thank you Lord. I throw down a couple of those gift certs and as the bartender wisks them away I begin to ponder...how is the one glass of house merlot at this dive bar almost $18? My new friend has gone to the restroom and I'm so ready to bail. I asked the bartender and she says, "Oh are y'all not together, he said to put his drinks on your tab." I said, "It's fine, whatever." Left her a small cash tip and started to walk out the door. The guy shouts, "Boo, Boo, you aren't leaving me, are you?" Stunned. "I have to get home, the game is over and its late. I paid for your drinks and you're welcome." Him, "You don't want to sleep all alone do you? I will come keep you company." Me, "Oh no, no, no, I'm good. I prefer sleeping alone actually.Thanks.Ummm, I'm not THAT girl, sorry." He's now walking with me to my car and I'm thinking to myself, I hope that pepper spray is still in my glovebox. He goes for a hug which I dodge. I see his "red shiny 3000GT" across the parking lot. I get in my car and drive away. I see him get in his car. I think to myself, I can't go home. He'll follow me. So, I drive to my mom's neighborhood and drive around and around and up and down the streets until I don't see any cars. Then I went home and crashed. The next day, I called Time Warner and ordered the NBA Channel so I can watch all the basketball games from my couch. :-)
Why do I attract morons? In a bar, I get it. But even in general encounters with other people...it would seem that only the weirdos are interested. I don't get it, AT ALL. I am not seeking to date anyone right now. I'm far too busy. But just as a security measure to keep those DBs away, I've booked up most of my next kid-free weekends (through about March) with friends and family.
And I have another blog/note for my theory on dating younger guys. Which I succumbed to and have concluded its not my best idea. So, details on that coming soon. For now, my DVR is screaming for some attention. Note to file, do not engage in conversations with ALLEGED Immigration Attorneys, especially if they call you "Boo" and throw their drinks on your tab.....asshole. I'm all about independence (paying for my own stuff) and am pretty much a low maintenance type girl.....but seriously?
More later.
.
I've just been busy. I have a few guy friends that have asked for an update on my dating life (or lack thereof) and while my moronic encounters have been fewer lately, they still exist so please find humor. I actually find humor that more guys like my dating stories than my female friends. So, for you guys, here it is.
I have shared with many that I'm not looking for some guy to fit some mold that I've created in my mind. I'm open but am strongly considering the mental development of a mold. I mean, I do have standards and am learning how to focus in on red flags immediately. So, in the past 2 years, I've definitely gotten smarter. I drive my boys to Waco every other Friday and pick them up every other Sunday. Their dad, my ex-husband, resides in Dallas so this is where we meet for the exchange. Exit 353 and back. Usually, I come home late on Friday nights, case in point, it is almost midnight and I just got home from an exchange. So, not much time for anything other than a hot shower and my DVR. On a rare occasion, I do go out though.
Several weeks back, I got home in time to catch a Spurs game and wanted to have a glass of wine so I went to Little Woodrow's....a bar up the street with decent music, tons of TVs with every sports game on [not to mention my purse full of BOGs to spend there (gift certs, if you will -my sis works for their corporate office)]. I was going to watch the Spurs game (hate the Spurs, love the Mavs, but keep up with stats of most of the teams, esp Mavs rivals). So, there I sit watching the Spurs game enjoying an overdue glass of wine. I don't hang out in bars regularly or anything but when I do, I find a seat near NO ONE. I think bars are the worst places to meet people but do find enjoyment in watching people. I could be entertained at an airport for days, just observing.
I'm sitting there for about 10 minutes and a guy sits next to me. I avoid all eye contact. I made a small outburst in victory when one of Spurs got fouled. So, I guess stranger-now-sitting-too-close took this as an invitation for a lame ice breaker. "I take it you aren't a Spurs fan?" Me, not looking at him, "No, prefer the Mavs." Him, "High five to that one."
Ok, stop. Are you really going to high five me? I didn't say this but thought it. I smiled, fakely, leaving him and his high five hanging. Long story short, he said something that kind of ticked me off.....statistics about basketball in general. I then made a huge mistake. I turned in his direction, made eye contact and engaged in conversation, albeit debate.
He had 3 beers during the time I was there and several times mentioned his girlfriend in Chicago. So, here I go all Dr. Phil on him. "Why are you sad? You chose a long distance relationship. How long have you been together? It's almost Christmas, you should surprise her." Many lines similar to that hinting to invest in the relationship. He went from missing her to "I don't think it's going to work out with us. I should get out of the relationship and start anew."
I used to work for this venues corporate office as their accountant and know some of the people that work there. One of the barbacks always speaks Spanish to me. I am not fluent but can get by with general Espanol conversation. Random-weird-guy-that-I-wish-would-hop-on-a-flight-to-Chicago-NOW starts asking me what I do for a living. I would like to point out that we all know this is really a blatant way to guage how much money one makes.
At any rate, this guy was an Immigration Attorney. "Oh really, specializing in?" His reply, "Immigrants from Mexico." (not the answer I was looking for, Mr. Educated Attorney) I countered, "Ahh, so you speak Spanish?" Him, "Not at all but if I did it would really help my career." Me, "You think?" (duh) For some reason he then felt the need to ask me what I drove. SERIOUSLY? Guys, take note. Lame question to which I will always answer honestly. "A minivan." He laughs. Me, "¿Entonces ahora soy gracioso?" (so now I"m funny?) At this point, I had been trying to flag down the bartender for my check....for the half consumed ONE glass of wine. Amazing how a stranger can be an instant buzzkill. I've got to be better at dissing someone. We talk casually for a bit longer and he's decided that my name is not Khaki, it's "Boo"....and that perhaps I'm a dog because he's pet my hair a few times. WEIRD and I say, "Did you really just pet my hair? I don't like people to touch my hair, or me." Then he tells me he drives a "shiny red 3000GT"....to which I say, "didnt' they stop making those awhile back?" (insert fake laugh to mock him from earlier)
A-ha, check has arrived, thank you Lord. I throw down a couple of those gift certs and as the bartender wisks them away I begin to ponder...how is the one glass of house merlot at this dive bar almost $18? My new friend has gone to the restroom and I'm so ready to bail. I asked the bartender and she says, "Oh are y'all not together, he said to put his drinks on your tab." I said, "It's fine, whatever." Left her a small cash tip and started to walk out the door. The guy shouts, "Boo, Boo, you aren't leaving me, are you?" Stunned. "I have to get home, the game is over and its late. I paid for your drinks and you're welcome." Him, "You don't want to sleep all alone do you? I will come keep you company." Me, "Oh no, no, no, I'm good. I prefer sleeping alone actually.Thanks.Ummm, I'm not THAT girl, sorry." He's now walking with me to my car and I'm thinking to myself, I hope that pepper spray is still in my glovebox. He goes for a hug which I dodge. I see his "red shiny 3000GT" across the parking lot. I get in my car and drive away. I see him get in his car. I think to myself, I can't go home. He'll follow me. So, I drive to my mom's neighborhood and drive around and around and up and down the streets until I don't see any cars. Then I went home and crashed. The next day, I called Time Warner and ordered the NBA Channel so I can watch all the basketball games from my couch. :-)
Why do I attract morons? In a bar, I get it. But even in general encounters with other people...it would seem that only the weirdos are interested. I don't get it, AT ALL. I am not seeking to date anyone right now. I'm far too busy. But just as a security measure to keep those DBs away, I've booked up most of my next kid-free weekends (through about March) with friends and family.
And I have another blog/note for my theory on dating younger guys. Which I succumbed to and have concluded its not my best idea. So, details on that coming soon. For now, my DVR is screaming for some attention. Note to file, do not engage in conversations with ALLEGED Immigration Attorneys, especially if they call you "Boo" and throw their drinks on your tab.....asshole. I'm all about independence (paying for my own stuff) and am pretty much a low maintenance type girl.....but seriously?
More later.
.
Simple Cup O' Joe
This morning I had the joys of getting myself and my three sons ready to be at destination by 7:30 a.m. The destination was Summit Elementary where my 5 year old was performing in his first school play. We had been planning this day for several weeks. Kyan had chosen to be a clown. So, everyday Kyan and I thought of different additions to make his clown costume "the best"...
Alarm goes off at 5:35 a.m. and I begin to suit up my adorable clown. He was going to wear one of my white blouses (don't ever tell him he wore a woman's blouse or he'd die), black vest, pajama pants (to which I had to make sure were the Transformer pants, cleaned and ready), grandpa's tie (which thankfully he tied before giving us), a red nose, face painted clown smile, and a hat....which Kyan picked out at Party City the other night and said he was so happy because it looked like a Michael Jackson hat. Issues I will address post-puberty, I'm sure....the desire to be like MJ.
I asked Kyan what his lines were in this play. He looked at me with disgust, actually, he looked at me with a scrunched up face that I realize I make all too often because it was definitely a "Khaki expression"....and says, 'NO Mommy, I picked a clown so I wouldn't have to talk. I just stand there and pretend to juggle.'
Clown is ready and as I'm getting ready, begging the others to follow suit so we won't be late, Kyan starts dressing Kasyn who is more concerned with where the lego man's legs are. Needless to say, a spanking later, several screams, crying, fit throwing, and me with wet hair, we're as ready as we'll ever be and all boys havemiraculously been fed. My apartment looks like Paris Hilton's closet has thrown up.
I drop off the most adorable looking clown and he's EARLY. Then I take the twins to zip by Grandma's to pick up the iFlip so I can film it for my family who can't make it. Sweet, I still have 20 minutes before the play starts and it's right across the street. I do have time for coffee afterall. Where was the magicaly delicious cup of wake-me-up at 5 a.m.? I should plan better but fell asleep on the couch amidst piles of laundry I was folding...ya win some, ya lose some.
Anyone that knows me, knows I hate being late to anything and sometimes just won't show up if I'm that late. And all too often, Kyan is late to school. Albeit, only by a few minutes. I hate it and someday he can thank his little brother Kasyn for the morning tantrums. Thank God for a minivan w/ automatic doors, a stop, drop, and roll exit in the carpool line, and shoes that 'make you run fast'.....oh and the bribe of a few quarters to get some ice cream in the lunch line if he makes it to the door by the time the van gets up to the Parking Lot Nazi lady. Give a woman an orange vest and a stop sign and she can rule the world....so she thinks.
So, I go to the coffee shop on the way to Ky's school. I prefer Starbucks but this place is pretty good, just slow. But what's this, no line.....just one car already at the window. I order. I pull up to the window and we wait....and wait...and wait. The lady has been handed her coffee and is gabbing at the lady. Hello!!! She must've missed the memo that Kyan Williams has a school play this morning!?!?!?! GO, Lady!!!!! Don't you have to get to work? Geez!!! I'm digging in my purse for my money/debit card (that is filled with normal purse stuff plus legos, action figures, and disgusting bubble gum). I start to panic. I cannot find my wallet. As I'm now, at the window, I tell Tiffany (the drive thru attendant who knows me by name, is that wierd?) and I'm giving her that finger as if to say, "just a second".....reaching with my other hand trying to feel for my wallet that may have fallen in the backseat. She says, "The lady in front of you has paid for your coffee and wanted me to tell you Merry Christmas."
A flood of guilt consumes my body. How thoughtful. I do that all the time BUT have never had anyone do that to/for me. On occasion, the baristas will give me coffee for free but never a patron in line ahead of me. I did find my wallet. Kasyn was holding it for me, pulling out all of the cards and throwing them on the floor.
Tiffany, "Khaki, do you have the boys with you today? Do you want some animal crackers?" Me, "Yes, please. And if she comes through here again, tell her thank you so much. I truly appreciate it." Tiffany, "After she offered to pay and I saw that it was your van, I told her that you were a regular and that you were a single mom of 3 little boys, probably not a more deserving person." Me, "Thank you so much! That's really sweet of both of you."
Then, off to the school where I'm still 13 minutes until showtime.....which means you sit in the very back row. And I would like to inform all the parents at that school (except for Chloe's mom, of course) that their kid's part wasn't that important and that they need to sit down in their seats so I can SEE, HEAR, FILM, and FOCUS on Kyan pretending to be juggling...the cutest of all 5 clowns on stage, might I add. In fact, I don't even know what the play was about....aside from a Christmas Toy Shop....I was too busy playing limbo, and doing my own cirque de soleil, through the sea of filming parents trying to get video and pics of MY CLOWN so Kevin, Gramaw, Granpa, Aunt Nini, Uncle Jojo, and Uncle Bubba could see it. Oh and the school also has an audience control police.....to which I ignored. :-)
I was proud of my clown...and managed to laugh when I got back to my seat in the very back row and saw Kasyn drinking the remainder of my latte....the rest of my morning should be full of adventure. I love my life, however chaotic.
Take time to taste the coffee....and enjoy moments...appreciate life.
Alarm goes off at 5:35 a.m. and I begin to suit up my adorable clown. He was going to wear one of my white blouses (don't ever tell him he wore a woman's blouse or he'd die), black vest, pajama pants (to which I had to make sure were the Transformer pants, cleaned and ready), grandpa's tie (which thankfully he tied before giving us), a red nose, face painted clown smile, and a hat....which Kyan picked out at Party City the other night and said he was so happy because it looked like a Michael Jackson hat. Issues I will address post-puberty, I'm sure....the desire to be like MJ.
I asked Kyan what his lines were in this play. He looked at me with disgust, actually, he looked at me with a scrunched up face that I realize I make all too often because it was definitely a "Khaki expression"....and says, 'NO Mommy, I picked a clown so I wouldn't have to talk. I just stand there and pretend to juggle.'
Clown is ready and as I'm getting ready, begging the others to follow suit so we won't be late, Kyan starts dressing Kasyn who is more concerned with where the lego man's legs are. Needless to say, a spanking later, several screams, crying, fit throwing, and me with wet hair, we're as ready as we'll ever be and all boys havemiraculously been fed. My apartment looks like Paris Hilton's closet has thrown up.
I drop off the most adorable looking clown and he's EARLY. Then I take the twins to zip by Grandma's to pick up the iFlip so I can film it for my family who can't make it. Sweet, I still have 20 minutes before the play starts and it's right across the street. I do have time for coffee afterall. Where was the magicaly delicious cup of wake-me-up at 5 a.m.? I should plan better but fell asleep on the couch amidst piles of laundry I was folding...ya win some, ya lose some.
Anyone that knows me, knows I hate being late to anything and sometimes just won't show up if I'm that late. And all too often, Kyan is late to school. Albeit, only by a few minutes. I hate it and someday he can thank his little brother Kasyn for the morning tantrums. Thank God for a minivan w/ automatic doors, a stop, drop, and roll exit in the carpool line, and shoes that 'make you run fast'.....oh and the bribe of a few quarters to get some ice cream in the lunch line if he makes it to the door by the time the van gets up to the Parking Lot Nazi lady. Give a woman an orange vest and a stop sign and she can rule the world....so she thinks.
So, I go to the coffee shop on the way to Ky's school. I prefer Starbucks but this place is pretty good, just slow. But what's this, no line.....just one car already at the window. I order. I pull up to the window and we wait....and wait...and wait. The lady has been handed her coffee and is gabbing at the lady. Hello!!! She must've missed the memo that Kyan Williams has a school play this morning!?!?!?! GO, Lady!!!!! Don't you have to get to work? Geez!!! I'm digging in my purse for my money/debit card (that is filled with normal purse stuff plus legos, action figures, and disgusting bubble gum). I start to panic. I cannot find my wallet. As I'm now, at the window, I tell Tiffany (the drive thru attendant who knows me by name, is that wierd?) and I'm giving her that finger as if to say, "just a second".....reaching with my other hand trying to feel for my wallet that may have fallen in the backseat. She says, "The lady in front of you has paid for your coffee and wanted me to tell you Merry Christmas."
A flood of guilt consumes my body. How thoughtful. I do that all the time BUT have never had anyone do that to/for me. On occasion, the baristas will give me coffee for free but never a patron in line ahead of me. I did find my wallet. Kasyn was holding it for me, pulling out all of the cards and throwing them on the floor.
Tiffany, "Khaki, do you have the boys with you today? Do you want some animal crackers?" Me, "Yes, please. And if she comes through here again, tell her thank you so much. I truly appreciate it." Tiffany, "After she offered to pay and I saw that it was your van, I told her that you were a regular and that you were a single mom of 3 little boys, probably not a more deserving person." Me, "Thank you so much! That's really sweet of both of you."
Then, off to the school where I'm still 13 minutes until showtime.....which means you sit in the very back row. And I would like to inform all the parents at that school (except for Chloe's mom, of course) that their kid's part wasn't that important and that they need to sit down in their seats so I can SEE, HEAR, FILM, and FOCUS on Kyan pretending to be juggling...the cutest of all 5 clowns on stage, might I add. In fact, I don't even know what the play was about....aside from a Christmas Toy Shop....I was too busy playing limbo, and doing my own cirque de soleil, through the sea of filming parents trying to get video and pics of MY CLOWN so Kevin, Gramaw, Granpa, Aunt Nini, Uncle Jojo, and Uncle Bubba could see it. Oh and the school also has an audience control police.....to which I ignored. :-)
I was proud of my clown...and managed to laugh when I got back to my seat in the very back row and saw Kasyn drinking the remainder of my latte....the rest of my morning should be full of adventure. I love my life, however chaotic.
Take time to taste the coffee....and enjoy moments...appreciate life.
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