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The Dane Story

Here are the Danes.  The one on the left, that’s the Dark one…the one that runs around this place.  The one on the right, the Light one…he belongs to my friend The Teacher and runs around on the other side of the tracks.  The guys have been best buds since they were in diapers.  One of my favorite pictures is of the Light one sitting in a Little Tykes car while the Dark one pumped his gas. 

It just makes me laugh.

The are the night and day of Danes…the head and tails…the polar opposites…as far as looks go anyway.

The way our families met is just so crazy that we love to tell it.

See back when I was baking the Dark one, it was tantamount to me to find a name unique and perfectly fitting what was sure to be a gorgeous child.  Rob and I poured over baby name books and while I leaned toward names like Riley and Colin (to this day he tells the boy I wanted to name him after a body part) he would throw out bizarro names like Galahad (joking of course, but still). 

The middle name was all but chosen, just a boyed up version of the girl name I was going to name him when I thought he was a girl…which happened to be until I was 7 months pregnant. 

Anyway, one day Rob calls up and says “What about Dane.”

Dane.

I ran down the checklist in my mind.

Interesting.  Not overly used.  Not spelled weird.  Sounded good with the middle and last.  Didn’t make his initials spell something stupid.

We loved it.  It was decided.  Dane Alexander he would be.

So, fast forward.  Time to go to the hospital.  Beautiful baby boy is born looking worried from the second he hit the atmosphere…presumably about when dinner was going to be.  When the nurses asked what his name was and we told them, one of them said, “Well, isn’t that funny.  The girl down the hall, her baby’s middle name is Dane, but I think spelled DAYNE.”

I looked at her like, you have got to be shitting me.

She wasn’t.

Fast forward.

When he was about a week old I ran into HEB to pick up some pictures and ran into a friend of mine.  When she asked what we named him and I went through the whole spiel about how we’d labored over picking a name that no one else was going to have blah blah the chick down the hall named her girl kid something Dayne blah blah..

She got this look.  Then she said…

The guy who works in produce and his wife just had a baby yesterday and named him Dane.

I looked at her like, you have got to be shitting me.

Two Danes.  Two Danes with ‘A’ middle names.  Two Danes with older siblings in the same grade.  Two Danes with mothers who found themselves at 37 happily surprised when there was two lines.  Two Danes with mothers who were…seasoned.  Two Danes born exactly one week apart.

And lest there be a question, the Dark one never lets the Light one forget that he is a week older than he is.

For the longest time we knew of the other but never met.  Then one day at an early morning award ceremony that the girls hadn’t told me about so i was sitting there with ganky hair and yesterday’s mascara schmeared around, the not yet 1-year-old Danes met and their mothers became fast friends.

It’s been such fun watching these two grow up and challenge the other.  The Dark one has always been the more cautious of the two, but when the Light one showed up one evening with a bike sans training wheels, it took about 1.57 seconds before the Dark one demanded his be off too, and then about 5 minutes before it was like a BMX rally in the backyard. 

When I look at this picture it hits me.

The Danes aren’t little boys anymore.

Damn, where does the time go?

 

 

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as reported through me.

I don’t think I’ve mentioned it here, but The Longhorn and 2 of her friends have been plannning for nearly a year this collosal trip to New York City over spring break this year.  Well, after all that planning and waiting, they are finally there! 

They wouldn’t know when this was happening that they would be delayed in Michigan and agan in Minneapolis, arrive in NYC at 12:30 Sunday morning and be separated from their luggage for nearly 2 days.  The Longhorn, though, kept it zen and didn’t get all WHERE THE HELL IS MY LUGGAGE I NEED TO CHANGE CLOTHES.  She just bought some.

In every picture she looks all SQUEEEEE I’M IN TIMES SQUARE!!!

They’ve seen John Lennon’s memorial and Young Frankenstein, Ground Zero, Central Park…all the regular places.  For me, they went to the Hello Deli, next door to Dave Letterman’s place, and ordered refreshing drinks from Rupert G.  Tomorrow, hopefully, they will attend a taping of Letterman and get pictures for me 🙂  Tonight, it’s off to see Lady Liberty.  I can’t wait to see the pictures of that.  These girls are amazing photographers.  Looking at the Longhorn’s pictures makes you feel like you’re just right there with them looking up at the buildings

But my favorite pictures are the ones where she is all SQUEEEEEEE  I’M IN CENTRAL PARK 

or

 SQUEEEE I’M LOOKING AT THE NEW YORK SKYLINE.

While this might just look like a spring trip to some, I know what it really is.  This was really a one-week tryout for the Longhorn.  This was getting a peak at where she aspires to be ASAP upon graduation. 

She’ll probably cry when she has to leave.  That’s how much she loves this NYC place

I can understand, though, this love of a place you’ve just met.  I felt the same way when I went to South Padre Island the first time.  I immediately felt at home. 

And that’s how she says it feels there.

I think it shows.

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I realized something today.  I put myself in a box.  I realized that tonight when I took The Boy to a children’s party at church.  We’ve been going to our church since The Boy was about 4.  I went to a Sunday School class that I absolutely loved.  But only because of the teacher.  She was the wife of the pastor and her name was Margaret.  I adored her and every single lesson she taught.

My fellow classmates…not so much.  To me, I never really measured up to the other perfectly coifed, perfectly made up moms in their perfect outfits with the perfect shoes.  To me, I was way out of my league.  I put myself in a box where I was the overweight, older mom with a not so great hairdo and not so great makeup and not so great shoes…

and because of my own insecurities, I closed myself off to this perfectly coifed, perfectly dressed, perfectly made up group.  I decided that no matter what, I was never going to ‘fit in.’  When Margaret and the Pastor were relocated, I stopped going to Sunday School.

On the upnote, we did start going to church proper.  I finally started feeling like a part of the church, which meant that I make a point of taking The Boy to every kids’ function there was.

Thing is that because I never made any connection with the perfectly coifed, perfectly dressed other moms, I wind up sitting at a table by myself while The Boy goes and visits and has fun with his church friends. 

And…really…I was sort of okay with it. 

But tonight, I was sitting at a table alone, eating really, really bad pizza, while The Boy was off having pizza dinner with his friend, Autumn, one of the perfectly coifed, perfectly made up moms came and sat with me.  Her name is Julie and she was a classmate in my old Sunday School class.  As it turns out, she was very sweet and we had a very nice chat.

The thing is that she went out of HER way to come to ME and sit by ME to have her bad, bad pizza.  After she came to my formerly solo table, another nice lady came and joined us.  Then another sweet little mom came over to share her sweet baby and A.J. and Addison with me. 

As I sat there, I realized that maybe the perfectly coifed, perfectly made up types weren’t the ones who were putting me in ‘the box.’  It was me. 

I realized that it was my insecurity that was putting me in ‘the box.’  I realized that I was closing the door to any interaction with the perfectly coifed, perfectly made up set.

I realized tonight that it isn’t them, it’s me.

Tonight I realized that rather than putting myself in my solitary box because I am not perfectly coifed or perfectly dressed, I should maybe just put myself out there…meet the perfectly coifed and perfectly made up.  I thought, perhaps, the perfectly coifed would enjoy a chat with the un-perfectly coifed and un-perfectly made up…and I think she did.

So, basically, what I’m saying is that sometimes (and for me, all the time), we tend to put ourselves in boxes…we put ourselves in the box that doesn’t fit in with the ‘pretty people.’ 

And then, if we allow ourselves, we realize it is not a ‘them’ and ‘us’ thing…it is just an us putting ourselves in a box thing.

Yeah, I had an ‘aha’ moment tonight.

The ‘pretty people’ can like you…they can come sit at your table because you are sitting alone.  They can come to you, instead of waiting for you to come to them…

and then you can kind of feel like crap because you’ve (read that me) closed your box…not the pretty people. 

I think I may be coming out of my box.

*** okay, so I just read this and must say that apparently, after a few beers and while trying to carry on a conversation with the Mr. while I type, I use the word ‘realized’ wayyyy too much, along with ‘box’ and ‘perfectly coifed.’ Bear with me through this one.  LOL ***

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Tomorrow…

sometime between 9 and 1, some nice folks from Home Depot will come to my place of residence and deliver to the Casa my shiny, brand new Maytag Tall Tub 24-inch dishwasher with not one, not two, but THREE wash arms.  Also in the magical Home Depot package will be a shiny new Ventahood.  I just ask you send prayers to the Mr. when he tries to figure out how the Man Who Lived Here Before who Fancied himself an Electrician wired all this stuff up. 

Trust me when I tell y’all that the electrical system in this house is…challenging to say the least.  Let’s just put it this way…every important thing…every microwave and computer and washer and dryer and refrigerator…basically every damn thing plugged into an outside wall…well, it’s on ONE BREAKER. 

Yes, folks, I can blow THE breaker if I decide to toast something and make coffee and microwave something at the same time.  It’s a challenge living here in the Casa, but once I trained everyone to check if the dryer or washer was running before they microwaved tasty leftovers, things got better.  Now, we’ll just have to factor in the shiny new dishwasher. 

One cool feature the new dishwasher has is a delayed start thingie, which means we can program that muthah to kick on when none of the other electrical appliances are doing their things.  Let’s just hope that that 300 sound package is for real or we’ll all be listening to the thing bump and grind for an hour in the middle of the night. 

In other news, am I the only one who just doesn’t get what’s so fantastic about the Foo Fighters.  I watch the lead singer guy sing and all I want to do is get his damn hair out of his face.  Perhaps, Michael Buble’ is the way for me to go at this juncture. 

In yet other tomorrow news, my Longhorn down in Austin will be shlepping for CNN while they cover the Democratic Debate.  She will be one of four with a high level of clearance to go about her duties.  Theoretically, if Senator Obama needs himself a cool drink, she may be the one to deliver it.  She is, to say the least, a little excited. 

 She just finally “came out” to her dad. 

Yep, she told the dad she may be a Democrat.

Oddly enough, she says the Dad didn’t drop the phone and go into convulsions…he just said “I’m praying for you.”

Yes, let’s pray for the kid who has taken the risk of being banished at Dad’s house because she has chosen hope, shall we?

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Okay, I was wrong

The Room Mother Lady and her germie sammies and germie kid were not responsible for The Boy’s illness.  As it turned out, he has a sinus infection that led to an ear infection.  And not just your garden variety ear infection.  Seems The Boy has ‘a weird film and even bubbles’ layering his left tympanic membrane. 

So, I apologize for wanting to punch your face for bring your sick self and your sick boy to the Valentine’s Day party.  However, I can’t speak for Amanda’s mother or Tristan’s mother.  I will say, though, as a general rule, if your kid has been out sick all week and you are running a fever yourself…well, maybe it would be a great idea to delegate your room mother duties and keep you and your sick kid home.  Just in case…since it is flu season and all. 

I was tickled to see how Tanya, our PA, was so tickled to see The Boy.  Last year she saw him enough that ear tubes and what not were talked about.  This winter, he has been amazingly well.  Until now.  But really, we’ll take one ear/sinus infection as opposed to the 5 he had last winter. 

However, when we went to the pharmacy to pick up his meds, and me without my insurance card, I about had a heart attack when the pharmacy tech came to the window and said that one Rx was 149.00 and the other 120 and change.  After I was through with my myocardial infarction, I suggest maybe they do a little computer search to see if maybe they missed The Boy in the system.  After searching his sister and Dad, they did indeed find that he was covered on our Tricare insurance.  Total bill with insurance…12 bucks.

Breathe, I did, after the tech came to the window after she did some looking and said “okay, this is better,” when she said 12 bucks as opposed to 260 and change. 

That ‘come to Jesus moment’ in the drive through just reminded me how lucky we are that we happen to have this amazing insurance thanks to the US Army and Rob’s 23 years of service.  Thanks to his service, we won’t ever have to worry about getting the medicine The Boy needs.  Yet, it always makes me think of the folks who don’t have insurance…and it makes me feel bad for them.  What the hell do you do when your kid is sick and needs medicine and rent is due and you need gas and lunch money.  How hopeless you would feel in the drive-through at CVS.

And that, is why I am voting for hope.

Hope.  It’s a good thing.

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What I Did Today

Meez 3D avatar avatars games

 Yes, today I made a Meez.  For the record, that is exactly what the kitchen at Casa de Yub might look like on any given Sunday.  Because…I’m on strike.  When the new dishwasher comes on Thursday, I think some of those dishes might be taken care of.  Not sure, but maybe…okay, hopefully.

But, that’s not all I did.  Noooooo.  Today I also made the hall bathroom usable.  See, Max the Big Ass Cat Photobucket

well, besides taking up 95% of the work space on my desk at any given point in time, he also eats and takes care of his bathroom things in the hall bathroom.  I have oft referred to Max’s amazing invisible poop, in that I am the only one who can see it, which must also mean that I have super powers.  I must be PooperWoman.  I must admit that I am not the most attentive litter box keeper, especially since I avoid that place like the plague. 

It doesn’t help that the same bathroom happens to be the one where The Boy does his bidness.  Let’s just say that, never having a boy child before this one, boys’ bathrooms are gross.  Well, let’s just say that the Boy’s future wife has a long row to hoe when it comes to bathroom issues.  So, mostly, I venture in on the occasion to gather The Boy’s dirty clothes and to sometimes deal with the litter box.  If you’re getting the picture that it isn’t pretty in there, you are very correct.  The gross 10,000-year-old pink tile and 10,000-year-old linoleum doesn’t really help the aesthetics of the room…forget the cat shit and boy pee that ensconces every bit of the toilet area. 

So, simply put, if you ever come to the Casa, please, please go to the bathroom at the EZ Mart before you get here.  And if I give you sweetea to drink while you are here, feel free to run down to the EZ Mart to go potty rather than venturing into the hall bathroom and shaming me endlessly.

Which leads me to why today I decided that maybe it was time to tackle the Boy/Cat bathroom and just get that shit cleaned the hell up…

Because last night Not the Boyfriend had to potty and The Sub did indeed direct him to the EZ Mart on the corner.

Mortified much?

Yes I was.

So, today, armed with many different cleansers and scrubbers and new litter box liners where you load up 11 liners with holes in them so that you basically don’t have to scoop and get all hands on, you just lift out the first liner and sift the crap out, I got in there and cleaned that muthah.  So now, the grossness has been replaced with the fresh scent of Mr. Clean and Ajax and Bam and Lime-Away (works great for lyme stains in the toilet).  It’s now a bathroom I would be proud for you to come and potty in, just in case you are in the neighborhood and feel the need. 

The thing is…no one ever, EVER comes over when it is potty worthy.  Go figure.

Before donning my HAZMAT suit and taking care of that little job, I managed to get some laundry done and making a totally awesome chicken spaghetti for Not the Boyfriend and The Sub…well, we ate it, too, so it wasn’t just for them.  We have Not the Boyfriend for a few weeks before he goes to Japan for 730 days, so I plan on feeding him as many times as possible all the yummy food he likes in the meantime.  He is, after all, the potential father to my future jarhead babies, so it’s the least I can do for the cause.

So, it was a full day and I’m a tired gal.  I’ll catch you folks on the flipside…OH…thanks to the Room Mother Lady, I will be hauling The Boy to the doctor’s office tomorrow in this height of flu season.  If you see some crazy bitch with Lysol wipes and Lysol spray sitting in the waiting room tomorrow (just in case we are dealing with a simple sinus infection and NOT the flu), well, that will be me. 

I need to order some face masks…OVERNIGHT delivery please.

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 Yesterday was the Boy’s Valentine’s Day Party at school.  To prove that I am not the oldest, laziest mother on the planet, of course I jumped at the chance to provide cupcakes for said party.

*note to self – they are happier, apparently, with those tiny, nasty little cupcakes from Walmart.  Next time, grab a bag of some nasty premade treat instead of toiling over your homemade and carefully decorated ones, k?*

Anyway, so when I get there, the Room Mother Lady was there, just beginning to set up the table.  She looked sick.  Her Boy was sequestered over in that chair over there, instructed to ‘stay away from people.’  

It turns out that Her Boy had been home alllllllll week with THE FLU *real flu or bad cold, people just call it the flu around here’ but she ‘hated for him to miss his party,’ so she opted to bring him up to participate in the festivities.  Oh, and she tells me she has a fever and the air coming out of her nostrils when she breathes is firey hot.

Super.  

So, the kids are served their sandwiches and chips and soft drinks and cheese-flavored popcorn that tastes weirdly like dish soap, greasy cookies, waxy frosted cupcakes, and proceeded to completely ignore the homemade tasty treats.  

Weirdos.

Her Boy sat at the front of the classroom, facing the classroom, and for the better part of an hour coughed and spewed germs out of his head holes.  About 10 minutes before party over time and AFTER the delivery of about 8 Valentine-Daygrams she’d bought for him (reckon that’s why she hauled the germ festival up there to share?), well, THEN she decided that Her Boy felt soo bad she better take him on to the house.

So me and the Girl Scout Cookie Mom cleaned up.  

OH.  Know what else?  Room Mother Lady, the one who was sick and running fever…well, she is the one who put all the sandwiches together and lovingly cut them into heart shapes.

Let’s just read that ‘she made 24 little petri dishes of germiness to feed to the class…with mayonnaise.’

I’m sure some of you have already figured out where I’m going with this.

and you’re right.

At about 12 today my phone rang.  Seems My Boy is in the office complaining of a headache and chills.  My Boy who I have managed to this point to keep well and out of the doctor’s office all year has a headache and chills.  

Super.

So, the Mr. ran up the street to retrieve the poor thing and he promptly changed into PJ pants and his sheik robe and has been asleep on the couch with Belle the rest of the afternoon.

Would the fact that Room Mother Lady and I had at least a 10-minute conversation about how inconsiderate it is for people with sick kids to go ahead and send them to school?  How it is a pain in the ass to us when their kids make our kids sick…would that be irony?

Well, Room Mother Lady, I just want to say thank you.  Thank you for sharing your germs with the Boy.  He really needed a long weekend of beng sick anyway.  I hope Your Boy enjoys his red carnaton and white carnation and pencil and keyring and paper heart and stuffed cat and stuffed penguin from his “secret admirer.”  I really hope it was totally worth potentially infecting the other 25 people in the classroom yesterday. 

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