Silly Girls...

Everyone is asking how the girls are faring, and I'm happy to report that they're doing very well. In fact, in many ways, they haven't missed a beat. It's taken me a lot longer to adjust to having them gone more than it has them...and they are right back to being their formerly feisty, funny selves.

Last week, I caught Sara singing "It's Raining Men" to herself while she was doing her homework...and she knows every word. This afternoon when she got home from school, she came in, dropped her bag, and announced, "I'm feeling a little stressed out this afternoon. I think I'm just going to spend the next hour relaxing on the couch." Roger that...second grade can be very stressful, indeed.

Emily is VERY caught up in the state of being known as Middle School Girl. For those of you who are unfamiliar with this phenomenon, let me fill you in on exactly what it entails:

1) They are only 11, but they want to be 17.
2) They make an attempt to act like they're 17, but they're really 11- and 12-year-olds...and it's obvious.
3) If you give them a cell phone, they may be inclined to TEXT you from across the table at a restaurant instead of speaking to you in public.
4) Justin Bieber.

That sweet little girl you raised? She's gone on a very long hiatus. You can hope that she will visit from time to time, but in the meantime, in her place you may find a very tall, slightly awkward person with boobs who resembles her. This girl knows everything there is to know about the universe, so there is no need to offer her your opinion about anything. (If you do, she will find it ridiculous and will immediately begin texting her friends about your childish notions.) On the occasions when she actually ASKS for your opinion, use caution, as it may take on the following form:

Emily:  Mom, the guy with the locker next to mine won't stop hitting on me, and I'm not into him. What do I do?"

Me: Ummmmmmmm......errrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.....what???

In this situation, when you are rendered ridiculous, it is actually true...let the exasperated texting begin...

Lost and Found

I haven't been writing, because I am not particularly funny, and I'm guessing those of you that come here are looking for funny. Funny girls don't get left behind...not them, or the pretty ones, either, right? Wrong! Sometimes they do...and suddenly life is unrecognizable. Don't get me wrong, it's going to be okay. I'm not exactly afraid to be on my own...I know I'm capable of it, and I know I'm strong enough for it, especially with my beautiful girls to keep me on my toes and my amazing friends loving on me...but it's intimidating. Not only was my last first date in 1995, but neither Mad Men nor True Blood returns until 2012!! What am I going to do with all that time, nearly half of which I'll be spending alone?!  Probably NOT being very funny for awhile...maybe this would be a good time to take a stab at technical writing...

So bear with me, folks, while I try to find my smile again...I promise it'll come. In the meantime, if I could borrow yours, that will help me get by...

Thursday Night Sorrow (Ode to Lee)

I don't know how many people out there are still reading me...judging from the recent lack of commentary, I'm guessing not very many...but to whomever IS out there, bear with me today, because I'm feeling a little bit broken-hearted and sentimental.

For the past couple of years, Thursday nights have been Girls' Night Out with some of my close friends. Not every week...but every other Thursday or so, a handful of us thirtysomethings (and sometimes Krystal) would line up at the bar at Othello's around 8:30 or 9 and close the place down with our trusted and much-beloved bartender, Lee. We drink wine and share appetizers and catch up with each other, often discussing our kids and relationships and what's happening in the world. Sometimes there are just 2 or 3 of us, usually 5 or 6, though we've had as many as a dozen. However many we numbered, Lee was always waiting for us with a smile, and he knew to put our water in cognac glasses to make it pretty. He always put extra cherries in my club special and knew how I liked my pizza. When our wine glasses approached empty, he would quietly appear in front of us, raising an eyebrow in question. With a nod or a shake of the head, he would refill the glass or bring coffee, without making us so much as pause in our conversation. We flirted shamelessly with him, both individually and en masse, and he would smile and blush, which made us laugh...but he always took our teasing in stride. Sometimes he flirted back, but he was always careful to toe the line and remain appropriate--at least reasonably so. He didn't talk much, and what little we knew about him, we had to drag out of him, but every once in awhile he would open up and throw his two cents into our chatter. Best of all, when our husbands or boyfriends would show up at our sides, he would treat them like old friends, but never uttered a word about our sometimes personal Thursday Girl talk. I can honestly say, he understood what was sacred.

Today, I found out our Lee is moving on, and I know I'm not alone in my sadness. He tended to us well, and will be sorely missed by us all. Thursday nights won't ever be quite the same!

Texts From Last Night...

Okay, so it was actually only this afternoon. I received the following text (which came across as 11 texts) from a disgruntled, fed-up, single but beautiful girlfriend of 26:

I need you to tell me that I am not going to die a dog lady...and that one day, a wonderful man will come along who doesn't bug the shit out of me, isn't jealous or insecure, doesn't overuse the phrase "check it out," has a real career, doesn't have to regurgitate movie lines just to have something to say, can go out without getting obliterated, wouldn't even dream of going tanning, doesn't comment on how much everything costs (especially when he takes me out), will pick the f*cking restaurant once in awhile, because if you don't we are going to Mahogany, doesn't feel the need to flex his arm if I brush up against it, doesn't wear size schmedium shirts that he constantly has to tug at the sleeves on, understands that "babe" is not to be used until a minimum 6 months of steady dating and maybe not even then or EVER, understands that my house is not an all-you-can-eat diner, knows the brand of his shirt need not be emblazoned across his chest in 4 inch letters, will not put his GD shoes on my furniture, knows that half-dead roses are lame, especially when I made it easy and said I like TULIPS (but wait, they don't sell those at Homeland), realizes that yes, my dog is cuter than your leg-humping laborador, and knows that the beer I buy is expensive, so don't drink it all every time you come over and not offer to replace it. While we're at it, jackass, who the hell taught you grammar? "Your" is not the same thing as "you're!" No one cares that your favorite movie is Dumb and Dumber--in fact, keep that to yourself when you're around my friends. It wouldn't kill you to make plans in advance, and it would be nice to get picked up and not always have to drive. Oh, and hey, guess what? BICEP is not the only muscle group, so my calves shouldn't be bigger than yours. Why the hell are you still sleeping on a futon and having your mother do your laundry? Sorry, that got a little more direct there at the end, but it felt great...I think I need to quit dating. The water is getting stale. Maybe it's that green algae.

Oh, honey...I may be older, but that doesn't mean I'm wiser...nevertheless, I offered the following:

You will NOT die alone. You will not be a crazy dog lady. That man exists, I just don't know where to tell you to find him...but it probably isn't at a bar. He likely needs to be at LEAST your age, or close to it. He might need to have learned a few things the hard way. You don't need to swear off men entirely, just those that are underemployed, undereducated, those with roommates--especially if the roommates are his parents--and those who get drunk more than once a week. He has to be at least as witty as me, and text with punctuation and without excessively abbreviating. Hang in there. I love you and would snap you up myself if I had the proper anatomy.

Good luck to you, K. I'll keep my eyes peeled...

Sara's Christmas Luau

Sara has more imagination in her pinky toe than most people could ever even wish for. Since we got back from Colorado, she's been complaining incessantly about the heat. Granted, it IS miserable...but as I pointed out to her this afternoon, there's nothing I can do about it, and complaining doesn't seem to be helping matters...a little later, I ran out to the store and returned to find she had put up signs all over the house. Christmas Festival Tonight! Join us for a Christmas Luau! Emily had applied reindeer makeup and dressed her up, and I was selected to introduce her as our master of ceremonies.We sang carols and played games, and Sara kept us giggling nonstop. She decided to simply THINK cold...and I, for one, think it helped! :)

Mommy, Can We Talk For a Minute?

This phrase, when uttered by my elder daughter, now has the power to still my heart...but when I hear it from my sweet, happy second-grader, I typically don't worry that much...until now. Sara's somber appeal early this morning led us to the living room love seat while the house was still quiet, where she explained that she had a crush on a boy from her first-grade class. "How do I get him to notice me when school starts if we're in different classes?"

As if he could help it, I think with a smile. But I do my job and keep a straight face throughout this discussion. I explain that there's still a chance she could wind up in the same class as Hank again, but if she didn't, the best strategy at her age was to simply talk to him and become his friend.

"But what do I say?" she asks.

I tell her she can't really script their conversations, but a good starting point would be to go up to him on the playground and ask him how his summer was. I suggest she ask questions about his family and what he liked to do to get to know him better.

At this, her brow furrows slightly, and she looks up at me, clearly puzzled.

"Wait...do I have to actually listen to his answers or can I just ask the questions?"

Good luck, Hank...

Heat Wave...

It's 105 degrees today. Yesterday, it was 107. No kidding, that's actually the temperature, not the heat index. The heat index is somewhere north of 115, making sitting still indoors the only suitable activity for any reasonable family. I'm making two pitchers of lemonade per day and cooking as little as possible...and as a result of the heat wave, I've been watching a lot of movies with the girls. Last night, Sara announced that she'd "always wanted to see Gone With the Wind." Always. As in all 7 years of her existence....sure...okay. And so, after a brief warning regarding the violence that took place during the Civil War, I downloaded the epic on Netflix and we began watching. Both of them were immediately enthralled. Sara was very concerned about the slavery issue--rightly so--and a history lesson ensued. But she instantly took a shine to Scarlett, telling me she was "one cool chick."

Emily was interested on a more mature level, of course, asking whether the book would be appropriate for her to read at this age and marveling at what a feat it must have been to make such a film in 1939. At the end, she announced, "That was actually excellent!" Grandma is going to be pleased...

Today, it was Father of the Bride, the 90s version with Steve Martin. Again, the girls dove right in, laughing hysterically at Frank the wedding coordinator and dad's exaggerated reactions to spending money on the wedding. Following one such scene, Sara turned to me and pointedly asked: "So exactly how much are you willing to spend on my wedding? I'd like to have an idea of the budget going in."

I laughed, and suggested with a wink that maybe she won't get married, and will stay with me forever instead. She looked pityingly at me, and put her hand on my shoulder. "Don't worry, Mommy. I'll wait until I'm at least 20."

Something tells me I'll be offering her money to elope...

The Referee

It's been awhile since I wrote anything...I would like to say that's because things have been smooth sailing...but that would be a bit of a fabrication. With the long-anticipated advent of summer vacation comes a new title dreaded by moms worldwide: Referee.

Tonight, as I was chopping onions, Sara trudged into the kitchen and sadly announced, "Mommy, I could use a little advice. Emily is getting meaner by the day, and she just isn't the sister I've grown up loving anymore."

Now what mother in the universe could ignore this kind of appeal from her seven-year-old? Only one without a soul, I tell you. Plus, I had been listening to their bickering for days, and thought it best to seize the opportunity and consider it a teaching moment. So I encouraged her to tell her sister how she felt, and called Emily into the kitchen, where I had them both sit down at the table. Sara repeated her concerns to her sister, who angrily responded, "well, you've been Little Miss Sassy-pants yourself lately!" I reminded them to watch their tone and be respectful. Emily then calmly told her sister that it hurt her feelings when Sara refused to let her play with her Zoobles, even though she wasn't using them, and that's what made her mad. I agreed that it seemed like an inconsiderate thing for Sara to do. Sara's response? "You know, I think we're getting a little off-subject here..."

Although I was able to briefly negotiate a truce, within a half hour they were screaming at each other again. After a couple of warnings, both girls were sent to bed without dinner, which is actually a first for me. At present, Little Bit is fast asleep. Emily is crying quietly, lamenting her general lot in life and the horrible, evil mother she was cursed with...and I am still in the kitchen, drinking a glass of wine while I pack up leftovers.

Blah blah blah...

School's out for summer. I have a freshly minted middle schooler (with the attitude to match, at least most days) and a sweet-but-strangely-cynical second grader...and not a hell of a lot else going on. We have reached the time of year that, historically, it takes everything I have just to endure, for a number of reasons. First, I find the heat and humidity of an Oklahoma summer to be extremely oppressive. Second, although it seems the opposite would be true, I hear less from my favorite people during this stretch...my amazing friends are scattered about traveling, and texts and phone calls drop off sharply...which I know means that they're probably having a great time, but still feels remarkably like abandonment at times. Third, my job tends to become e-x-c-r-u-c-i-a-t-i-n-g-l-y slow during the summer months. And finally, although this is exclusive to this summer, neither Tina Fey nor Lorne Michaels have come calling, and hits to this blog have dropped from 40-50 per day to--oh, about 6. I'm guessing none of you are scouting for either one of those people, but who the hell really knows?

What, then, is a girl such as myself supposed to do? I ask you--all six of you. How can I make this part go faster? How do I get past the unsettled feeling of having nothing to do and no one who's looking for me?

Bragging rights!

Yeah, yeah, I know...no one likes the parents who shove their kids' every accomplishment in the face of their friends...but forgive me this time, I had to do it! So stinking proud of her! (Plus, I missed the live version, as Sara's dance recital began a scant 30 minutes later and was 20 miles away...clearly I'm dealing with some residual guilt.) Love my girls! :)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zCf0Jn5iJYU

Sara Logic 101

This afternoon, I attended Emily's fifth-grade graduation, which, I admit, was a little surreal. The program was sweet, and Emily was recognized for several accomplishments over the past year. After the program, the Northern Hills Elementary senior class made its way to UCO for the Fifth Grade Field Games. It was still 25 minutes early, but I went ahead and checked Sara out and took her home for a little one-on-one time. Lately, Emily is involved in so much, I feel like Sara has been lost in the shuffle sometimes.

I fixed her some popcorn and poured her an apple juice. We played Sorry and Connect Four and had the house to ourselves for a couple of hours, and it was fabulous. At one point, I caught her wiping her hands off on her shirt, and I reminded her to go get a napkin for the umpteenth time. At this, she raised an eyebrow. "You know, I'd rather have dirty clothes than be responsible for death," she said matter-of-factly, shrugging her shoulders.

I stared. "I beg your pardon?"

She sighed, clearly exasperated. "Well, I think it's much better to get my clothes messy than to waste a paper napkin. A tree had to die to make that napkin, and trees produce oxygen. By using a paper napkin, I'm not only killing the tree, I'm taking someone's oxygen," she explained patiently. I could see the wheels turning. That Mommy, she can be awfully slow on the uptake sometimes...

I opened my mouth to say something, and realized I couldn't exactly argue with her logic...partly because I was speechless. Score: Fifteen-love, advantage Sara.

True Colors...

Sometimes, in spite of your best intentions, your carefully assembled existence will go careening off the rails in the wrong direction, and a detour to Shitsville is inevitable. If this has never happened to you, I offer my congratulations...and I sincerely hope you never have to go. However, I recently spent over a year there, and I can say without hesitation that it blows. And while I don't ever care to return, there are some blessings that have come of it. I have learned who my real friends are, and a few people surprised me by showing their love and support in ways that I had never seen, and in some cases didn't know that I had. Of course, the flip side of that is that I had to discover that one or two people that I really believed in didn't have my back at the end of the day.

To those of you that hung in there with me (and you know who you are), I can never begin to express my gratitude. Even though you may not have understood, you stood by me and loved me without question or judgement. That kindness will stay with me always, and while I suppose it would be nice to be able to repay it one day, I hope you never have to go through what I did in order for me to do so. I hope you know I will always consider you family.

To the ones who didn't, it's your loss. I'm in a far better place than I've ever been, and you're missing out on the best of me!

Love my people! Thank you all! :)