Hey Little Boy, Ask Me Again Why I'm Tired

There's an area in our kitchen that is separate from the "food prep" area.

(I need a place to dump all assorted items of junk, and I like to use Food Network terms.)

You probably all know or have the type of area that I'm talking about. It's a section of counter covered in:
-school papers
-my calendar/organizer
-to do lists
-grocery lists
-bills to be mailed
-bills to be paid
-assorted pens and pencils
-stacks of stuff to mail to a war zone (well you may not have this)
-my purse
-a dirty coffee cup from ?day
-my camera
-coupons
-chapstick that fell out of my purse
-and whatever else happens to land there... which is where this story is heading...

On Wednesday night, I was turning out the kitchen lights and locking the doors in preparation for going upstairs. ('Cause once I'm up there, I'm not coming back down.)

I glanced over to my calendar (in this junk area) to check the next day's schedule to make sure I wasn't forgetting anything critical... like breakfast with my girlfriends or coffee with Jeanna, or a good sale at Hobby Lobby or saving the world...

And this is what I see.



Yep.
Those are grasshopper legs.

Placed lovingly there on the month of September for my personal enjoyment.

Plucked tenderly from a dead (I asked) bug in my yard.

(I do apologize for the poor photo quality... I was tired and it's hard to zoom in properly on bug legs.)

"Are these grasshopper legs on my planner?" (Stupid question.)

He answers, "Yep! They sure are!"

"Great. Now go upstairs and get in the shower."

I tossed those little legs in the trash and was instantly 135% more tired.

It's Not Really Stealing

There is a Texas girl's blog I enjoy reading. Sometime last week, she posted this "list" thingy, and I found it quite interesting. It's a list that reveals a lot about the blogger... some things trivial, some things not. I liked it, so I am stealing it. Not really. She said we could take the idea.

I received a comment once that suggested I don't blog about myself enough. Really? Brace thy selves.

I suppose I do write more about the boy then anything else. He's just far more entertaining than the rest of us. I can't blog too much about the husband right now...
1. He's not here to entertain us.
2. I might compromise national security and be arrested in the comfort of my own home.
The cats? They are sorry sacks of fur. One keeps me up at night meowing and the other one is trying to drive me to insanity by going poopie in the floor (inches from the litter box) on a regular basis. At least she's regular. But I do love them.

So, here's a glimpse into my world...



I am thinking that I should not have busted into that bag of Halloween candy just yet.

I think too much. Over-thinking is a curse.

I have a sore mouth from my new fangled-y night guard. It's supposed to keep me from grinding my teeth.

I wish I had a billion dollars. Seriously.

I hate picking up cat poopie.

I miss... oh please!

I fear watching people I love suffer. (Wow. That's a deep one. Sorry.)

I hear the fan from the stove still running from Lord only knows when. If that husband were here... he'd have shut that thing up a long time ago.

I smell my semi-cold coffee sitting in front of me. (Dear God, please don't let it fall into the keyboard. Again.)

I crave all things el Mexicano. And Spanish lessons, obviously.

I search for a way to drop 40 pounds without exercising. I hate it.

I wonder what my little boy will look like as a teenager. Hide your little girls.

I regret not doing more with my creativity. Out of laziness, out of fear, out of lack of motivation.

I love my bed. It's cozy. Bedtime is my favorite time of day.

I ache when I work in the flowerbeds. And I worry that my neighbors are looking at my fat behind all stuck up in the air.

I am not a good decision maker... especially the small insignificant ones. Big ones? Much better.

I believe in the ultimate control of God in all things. (Wow. Another deep one.)

I dance when we watch High School Musical. (Is that too much information?)

I sing when I hear anything I know or think I know. At church, in the car, on TV, when watching High School Musical...)

I cry at the drop of a hat. And I quote, "I have a strict policy... No one cries alone in my presence." (Dolly Parton as Truvy in Steel Magnolias)

I fight as little as possible. I hate confrontation.

I won a chili cook-off contest last Fall. Without even really intending to enter. And I'm not bragging... I was truly stunned.

I lose my train of thought. Often. And my cel phone.

I never feel like I have my act together.

I always have a headache when it's gonna rain. My skull is my weatherman.

I confuse myself.

I listen to whatever happens to be on the radio. I'm not really picky about music style as long as no one's singing through their nose.

I can usually be found in flip flops.

I am scared of snakes, big snakes, little snakes, snakes, and worms because they look like tiny snakes.

I need to get off this dang computer and go be productive... it's a half day at school and my time is a-wastin' away.

I am happy to live in this beautiful land we call America. It is a gift. (Cue patriotic music...)

I imagine myself sitting on the beach about 23 times a day.

I tag... no one! I only do that on Facebook.

Feeling overloaded with information about me yet? I know I am.

Have a Blessed Wednesday, folks.

Good Intentions and My 2 Other Children

Is the road to Hell really paved with them? Good intentions? I know I've heard that saying somewhere. I think it may even be a country music song...

Well. I don't know about the road to Heck being paved with good intentions. I do know that the road to frustration is paved with them. And so is the road to tired.

I have all these lovely and ambitious plans... things that would somehow and someway make life a little better for those around me or for myself.

But they just don't seem to get done.

Don't stop reading... this is not another guilt post. (This time.)

Where does the time go?

Where does my energy go?

Now I sound like a granny on the front porch watchin' my grandchillen' run around the yard.

I asked the boy on Saturday afternoon if he was tired. He's battled his allergies all week, he's had loads of homework, bedtimes have been pushed to their limits, and he'd just played a soccer game in 123% humidity.

I said, "I don't know about you, buddy, but I sure am tired."

He says, "What do YOU have to be tired about?"

Well. If I weren't so busy lying on the sofa all day eating bon bons and watching game shows, I would think of something to be tired about. (I didn't say that. But I wanted to.)


There are MANY times I find myself defending the fact that we have only one child. Whenever my good friend is around, she helps me out...
She always says I have one child who might as well be triplets.
He's a great kid, but he's always been a lot of work. Like triplets rolled into one.
(Please... all you parents of multiples, don't send me hate mail. I really don't know how hard your life is... I am only making a lame comparison.)

So... I simply told the boy that I was tired because I have to take care of his busy little behind all the time.

And that I'm tired from thinking up all these good intentions.

Wow. Imagine how tired I'd be if I actually got around to doing them.

It Really Did Feel Like 143,000 Children

Well, well, well. We've been busy. Many things have happened since my "non-laboring-BBQ-eating-dove-shooting" Labor Day weekend. A lot of busy stuff.

- Someone failed to mention to me that 4th Grade is college prep. I mean we are buried in the homework, folks. And the boy could write a book on "Worrying About Your Backpack Being Properly Packed for the Next Day."

- I had a luncheon to attend. For the spouses of deployed chaplains. We had good food and great company.

- The boy had soccer practice.

- The boy had guitar lessons. (And practiced relentlessly... plink, plink, plink.)

- I had a coffee meeting where I enjoyed my first Pumpkin Spice Latte of the season. Yum.

- We had dinner with our friends. Twice. I had BBQ... again.

- I had a day I PLANNED to do some "registration renewal" of the boy at our "Children & Youth Services" center. Let me explain. This happy occasion is a blog-worthy event... all by itself.
I was PREPARED folks. PREPARED. But no.
As I type this... he remains "unregistered."
"Why," you ask?
Here's a bit of insight into Army life:

1. You must fill out 348,999.9 forms for everything you do.
2. You must provide proof of EVERYTHING. I walked in there with a briefcase of information. I'm wondering when they're gonna start asking for stool samples and vials of blood.
3. A physical is required to even think of participating in an event. A separate physical and another form for each event.
4. When you call to get the appointment for this physical, you will be put on hold... and then told you can have an appointment sometime in the year 2025.
5. When all this is said and done, they will invent a new regulation or form. And you get to do it all over again.

But I'm not bitter.

Let's continue...

- The boy had his soccer game.



- We had the Fall Sunday School Kick-Off.

- We had no air-conditioning in our chapel on Sunday morning. I was on the verge of fainting several times, and it had nothing to do with the Holy Spirit.

- We had a chapel lunch picnic. I ate... more BBQ.

- We had the first night of AWANAS. Bible Clubs for boys and girls. It's really a wonderful program, and the kids love it. I was volunteering in the 3rd and 4th grade girls' group. An email from our leader said we had 143 children attending. Honestly, it felt like 143,000. I am so thankful they all came, and they are precious. I'm just not certain that Bible club should cause me to consider using street drugs.

I must go attend to some homework, and I know there's a form I should be filling out.

Oh. And I was just informed that our elderly obese cat went "poopie" in the floor. Again.
That really is another post for another day.


P.S. We are NOT having BBQ for dinner.

No "Laboring" on Labor Day

I am considering not going on any more vacations or family visits or fun trips.

It takes way too long for my brain and body to recover.
To get back into the mode of being "in charge" and responsible and aware of what needs to be done.

I am kidding about the not taking any more vacations and trips part... I am NOT kidding about needing a brain and body boost.

The boy and I spent Labor Day weekend at my parents' house. With my brother and my sis-in-law and my nephew. Baba and Papa had both their cutie patootie grandsons there for the weekend.



If you know anything at all about my family... you know there was a certain event that made the trip home absolutely necessary.

The opening of Dove Season.

Bring on the firearms.




Me? I went shopping.

There's even an annual dove shoot and cook-out held partly in memory of my grand-pa... the boy's great-grandfather.... the one responsible for this hunting gene. The boy and my dad went.


My mom and I went later to enjoy the food and the scenery.


I think I ate BBQ a total of 437,826 times this weekend. I found a few good sales. And I did not "labor" one bit. Good times.

What's the Hidden Meaning?

While driving back onto our post yesterday, I ended up right behind a Krispy Kreme delivery truck.

(For anyone who's wondering... "On Post" means leaving the real world and entering the military one... with guards and gates and lots of camo. And Krispy Kreme? Well... I don't have any idea how to explain that.)

Now back to the real story.

As I sat at the red light, I found myself daydreaming. About jumping into the back of that truck and hijacking myself some doughnuts.

I had a whole elaborate plan worked out. I was even thinking about snatching boxes for friends and how I'd leave my car idling and how I'd be so stealthy that the truck driver would never know I was there. Until he got to his destination with no doughnuts.

Either it was a really long red light or I have serious carb issues.

Or maybe it's from living here.

The light changed, and I turned, and that was the end of that.

Until today.

I was sitting at another red light. On the other side of the base. I was thinking about my silly daydream from the day before. Laughing at myself and wondering if any other human ever has the same bizarre ideas that I seem to have.

Smiling at my insanity, I looked up to drive through the light.

You will never believe who was in front of me.


I've been trying to convince myself that it was purely coincidence.

Or was it?

Happy Anniversary to Me!

Yesterday was the 16th anniversary of the day Dan and I were married.

Holy moley. We are some old people.

It can be a bit difficult to celebrate the occasion when you are half a planet away, but we did our best.

The boy and I went out to dinner with our good friends. And we had a hoot of a good time.

I'm sure Dan celebrated by eating some delicious dinner at an Army dining facility! And he sent me these...



Oh yes, folks... those are chocolate covered strawberries.



Loads of HUGE chocolate covered strawberries skewered into a cute little flowerpot.

I think I'll keep him. 16 years is a long time to train somebody.

After consuming several of these lovelies, I said (out-loud),

"Thanks honey! You sent a great present!" (You know, 'cause he can hear me all the way over there.)

The boy then says (with a little dance),

"Daddy is AWESOME!!"

I'm thinking, "Awwww.... how sweet. He recognizes the love his father has for his mother..." (Should have known better.)

Oh but no.

Because he adds,

"Daddy sent a present with sticks!"