more crazy stuff i found my myself saying..... Me to boy #2 before a doctor's appt:
"I want you to go upstairs and clean your butt. I mean, your butt hole, specifically. Because if the doctor asks to see your butt hole, I want you to have the cleanest shiniest butt hole he's ever seen."
The garden is in full bloom -- I need to harvest, weed and put up the bounty. Last year I tried canning for the first time, but got too scared of things like, oh botulism and death.... and ended up putting everything in the freezer anyway.
Tonight I will make more freezer jams. I've made strawberry and peach so far this year.....and I can't make it fast enough. Tonight I will make more peach (98 cents a pound at Walmart), mango and blueberry preserves.
I think I have enough tomatoes and peppers to make salsa - but may end up making a nice garlic, tomato, basil, shrimp pasta dish. The kids may not like it -- but that is OK since I've got two new margarita glasses....that are begging to be put to use.
I stood in line tonight with my Very Fairy Princess book by Julie Andrews, waiting for her to sign it. None of the males in my family wanted to come with me. Whatever. I realize my dream cannot be forced upon my children as fathers sometimes do: ala Tiger Woods', or the Venus - Serena Williams' papas. As a preschooler, I played my parents' album of "The Sound of Music" over and over and over on an aqua blue record player. You remember those things, the needle hand had a penny taped to the top of it to keep it from skipping....Hours and days on end I spent in my room, singing and dancing and imagining the scenes and lives behind the music.
And then when I was about 5 years old, someone took me to my first movie...The Sound of Music. I stood a bit taller than the back of the seat in front of me and sang at the top of my lungs every song. I heard that I embarrassed and annoyed others, but not for one minute, myself. The scenes in the real movie weren't as magical as they were in my head of course because they didn't star me, of course...in all of my 5 year old fabulousness. And then in a one-two punch came -- Mary Poppins. Julie Andrews was pure English-spoon-full-of-sugar magic. I needed her to be my nanny.
Tonight, I waited in line about an hour and a half, and when my turn came to meet her, so did the tears. I truly hate that about myself. The crying thing. ugh so annoying. If there was one thing I could change about myself it would be that. Ok nevermind, make that the second thing I would change about myself, the first of course would be my hips, but I digress....
She said I was the second one in the line-up to cry, which didn't really make me feel any different. She said that she appreciates my emotions because she is usually the one doing the crying.
She was as beautiful and gracious as I've imagined her.
I thanked her for bringing me so much joy as a child and over the years. for filling my lonely girl head with music, dance and wonder.
She spent a few minutes asking me questions, if the book was for me or another princess in my life. I gushed a bit about my boys and attempts to bring them over to Julie Andrews Land. She seemed to understand that perhaps all would not like to join me. She asked me about my boys and intuitively knew that I was was aiming for a princess somewhere along the way, and I wished my mom could lived long enough to have seen this.
I normally am not a star-struck kind of gal, but I was tonight. I walked away from the curtained off room and some employees saw me as I dabbed away the rest of my tears. "Awww," one said, "that was pretty emotional, huh?"
I stopped for a minute still not sure who or what just happened and said, "I either had to cry, or pee my pants." She thanked me for not making it the second.