Thursday, September 20, 2012

somedays i amaze myself

So.  A few weeks ago, I one-upped my most embarrassing moment ever.

A few days after the girls went back to school, Claire and I took Mr. Sam to his one year well check.  I was, as usual, unprepared and hadn't brought along any snacks or lunch for the kids to eat.  As we waited to see our favorite Dr. Brown, Claire decided that she would like a cheese quesadilla for lunch.  Perfect, I thought!  Cafe Rio!

Well, as soon as Dr. Brown decided that Samuel was perfect (we already knew that, of course), we headed for lunch.  I already knew what to order for the kids- two kids quesadillas, please.  As I looked over the menu for myself, I decided that in fact, I wasn't all that hungry and I would actually like a kids quesadilla too, thank you very much.

Here's where it got a little dicey.  I'll preface this whole saga by stating that in the past, whenever we have ordered kids quesadillas we have also ordered adult entrees also.  So, it makes sense that I hadn't paid much attention to the total amount and had assumed that the price for the kids item was a dollar and some change.  Well. . .we've all heard what happens to a person when they "assume", eh?  They make an ____ out of you and me.

Yip.  I pretty much made one of those out of myself.

This is how it went down.  I marched myself and Claire and Mr. Sam up to the counter and said, "I'd like three kids quesadillas, please."  At which point the little 'ol lady making tortillas counted my kiddos, looked at me with a somewhat disgusted look, and said, "And what can I get for you?" 

"That's it!  Just three kids quesadillas."  I answered cheerfully.  Another disgusted look. 

Hmmmm, maybe she's having a bad day, I think to myself and move on down the line.  At which point the next guy asks, "What did you have?" 

"Three kids quesadillas."  Once again, he counts the kids and shoots me another disgusted look.  "That's it?". . .to which I answer with a smile, "Yip!"

I move on down the line.  Same questions, same checking out my kids, same looks.  And the whole time I'm thinking to myself, "Geez.  What's the big deal if I'm a light eater today?"

Toward the end of the line, we repeat the process.  This time as I repeat my order, he tells me, "I've only got two here."  I'm thinking, what-in-the-heck-is their-problem-today and allow myself to get the tiniest bit sassy.  "Noooo.  I ordered three." I correct him.  This time, he shoots the guy next to him 'the look' and yells down the line for one more kids quesadilla.

Finally, we get to the cash register, where the girl asks you-know-what and I repeat my order.  She looks the whole lot of us over and says, "And what did you order?" 

I feel like yelling, "NOTHING!  JUST THREE FREAKING KIDS QUESADILLAS!"  But I don't.  I was polite.  When she asked me what we would like to drink?  "Water, please." 

At this she rolls her eyes (really, she did) and leans over to the girl at the cash register.  "Just charge her a dollar since she didn't order anything else."

At which point she rings up the register and announces, "A dollar and six cents, please."

And me, being the brainiac that I am, says innocently, "That's all?  I had three of them!"

Another disgusted look.  Another pair of rolling eyes.   "They're FREE."

The worst part?  I was so stunned that I didn't really think through what I had done until the ride home.  After I had sat in there for who-knows-how-long with my two kids and gobbled down our three kids quesadillas.  I mean, I could have explained myself and offered a few more dollars.  If I had any self respect at all, I would have at least hustled out to the car so we could eat in our own private humiliation.  I am sure every worker watched me and rolled their eyes a million times about "that lady".

At least our family has gotten a good laugh.  When I told Courtney and Nate, I couldn't help but mention what a great deal I'd gotten, at least.  I mean, who can beat lunch for three people for a mere $1.06.  To which they laughed like crazy and replied that no, I'd gotten "hosed".  After all, they were supposed to be free and I paid a dollar-oh-six!

(Just so you know, we went to Courtney's sister's house last Saturday evening.  When we told her we were coming, she texted Courtney this message: "Can you ask Kelly to run by Cafe Rio and pick us up twenty-three kids quesadillas?"  Pretty sure I'll never live this one down.)

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

our country life, part two

{Lucky for you, I don't have any pictures for this post.}

Ryenne missed the bus this morning, and as we were driving away in a hurried effort to make it to school in time, this is what I saw:  a dead deer on my front lawn.  Oh, and a big 'ol streak of blood smeared across the grass. 

Mornings like this are awesome.

I'm guessing that Bambi got hit by a car sometime during the night, was seriously wounded, and somehow got herself onto our front lawn where she finally fell.  Not going to give up without a fight, she must of dragged herself another ten feet or so until she couldn't make it anymore.  Eventually, she gave up the ghost right there, practically on my front sidewalk. 

When Ryenne saw it, she was, first of all, sad.  Next she observed, "I bet you're wanting to throw up now."  And finally, she concluded, "So that's what all the kids on the bus were looking at!"

When I called Courtney with my predicament, he laughed (not because he's heartless, but because he is a man).  Then he said "Quick!  Call the butcher!"  (Only kidding, of course).

And when my father-in-law showed up to drag the poor dear away (no pun intended), I stepped out to tell him thank you.  He couldn't resist another comment about calling the meat packer.  And before he left, he just had to come and ask me:  "So, are you gonna want the liver?" 

Hee, Hee. . . Hee.

I tell you what.  It doesn't get any better than this.

Wednesday, September 5, 2012

more happy

Sunday/Monday marked the anniversary of My Big Adventure.  It's something I've thought a quite a bit lately. . .but to be honest, it's something I have thought about every day for the past year.  I've asked Courtney if he thinks I'll always think about it- forever and ever?  Like most things in life, we didn't have an answer for that one. 

Being the sentimental wacky kind of gal that I am, I've wondered about this little anniversary for months.  Twelve,  in fact!  When I was in the hospital Courtney and I thought that maybe we should do a triathlon in a year to celebrate.  As things went on and I didn't get back on my feet (literally) as fast as we'd expected, I worried that I might not be running again at all.  Turns out, I'm not and I'm okay with that.  Maybe someday, but not yet.  So. . .The last few months I'd thought that on the big day I'd like to go on a hot date with my mister.  Something waaaaay romantic. Maybe even a little overnight getaway?  In the end, I had decided that the best thing to do would be to dedicate a whole day to my kiddos.  You know, the kind of day when you let everything else lie- only  making time to play, laugh, and love.  THAT would be the perfect thing, I concluded.  In the end, I guess that in my own weird way, I had thought the "perfect day" was necessary to show Heavenly Father and myself that I was truly thankful and fully remembered the gift I had been given.

As it went, on Monday night I laid in bed and felt a little disappointed with myself.  Not only had I not done anything celebratory, I hadn't done anything at all.  Turns out I was just plain 'ol tired.  So much so that I spent the day sleeping on and off.  (You know, I don't think I've slept as much in my whole life as much as I have in this past year!)  As usual, Courtney noticed that I was thinking pretty hard about something and talked things over with me.  And, as usual, it helped.

As the week has gone on, I have pondered this whole way of thinking.  Sometimes, I think we moms get stuck into thinking that in order to do it right, we have to do it perfectly.  We hear a steady stream of well-meaning "enjoy every minute, it goes by so quickly!" and "they'll be grown before you know it".  While I can understand the thought behind that advice (holy cow, my girls are growing up fast!), I think we trick ourselves into thinking that every moment of every day must be full of happy, healthy, laughter, and smiley-faced memories. 

I'm not sure that is what Heavenly Father intended. 

This morning, I woke up wishing it wasn't morning.  Always tired, it seems.  But, wanting to send the girls off my way, I got myself into the kitchen (filled to the brim with last nights dishes) and made some pancakes.  I couldn't do that last year.  I worked my way down the line, assembling four hair-do's, and played "down by the banks" while we waited for Kate and Emmy's bus.  I hollered my usual "Choose The Right!" as they ran out the door, and read books with Claire while we waited excitedly for Aunt Amy to pick her up for her first day of preschool!  It was two full hours of chaos.  The rest of the morning was spent taking a bath with Mr. Sam, sorting laundry, and tidying up the homestead. 

A good morning.  Not perfect, but really good.  It seems silly, but I could count on two hands the mornings we had like that last year- when I was awake and on my feet.  I know a hot breakfast won't solve the world's problems, but it's just something that I enjoy doing.

While Sam napped, I did the dishes and thought about my life.  How I don't have many (any!) perfect days, but a whole lot of good ones.  Maybe that's a lesson I needed to learn, to enjoy the everyday-ness of my life.  The laundry, sinks full of dishes, the chance to make pancakes for sleepy-eyed girls.  The goodbye wishes and "how was your day?" moments.  Throw in the time-outs, tearful bad moods, and teaching how-we-deal-with a-bad-day moments.   It's all part of the package, and I realize that now more than ever.  I will never, ever claim the last half of that deal to be my favorite, but if that's part of the price to pay to spend my days with the ones I love the most, I'll take it. 

I guess what I'm trying to say is this:  Sometimes I feel guilty that I don't have a fantastic mothering streak every second of every day.  Especially this past year when "I should know better!"  But here is the lesson I gained on my one-year-later day.  I'm not sure that Heavenly Father expects me to build perfect days in order to show him I like this gig.  Rather, I think the best way I can show my gratitude for being here-for being a mom- is to construct days for my family that are more happy than sad.  More laughter than tears, and more kindness than selfishness.  Hopefully one day my kids will look back and see just that.  More happy.

This job of mine?  This is where it's at, I tell ya. 

Happy Anniversary to me.