It’s Triple T day – Ten Things Thursday!! We have permission to list 10 “randompants” things that have no rhyme or reason in honor of Miss Laura Belle. Me love you long time LB!
Ima only gonna do 5 because they are a bit long and that’s annoying for you guys to have to read!
1. Every day on my way to work I see an older man jogging. He HAS to be in his 70s…though he still has a pretty good head of hair. He is the oddest looking fellow. He wears a bright white 80s headband around his head. He tucks his swish pants INTO his white socks. (I’m guessing he doesn’t have a wife who tells him this is unacceptable) And he runs. At a pretty fast pace. So much that he has a “OMG – this hurts like a sonofabitch” look on his face the entire time he runs.
Every day I seriously want to stop my car, pull over, get out and jump up and down and yell, “YOU GO OLD MAN!!! You ROCK that run!!!” because I’m so awed and proud of him – but I don’t do it because I’m afraid I’d startle him and he’d trip and fall and break a hip and I’d be the reason his running career ended. Instead I just give him a big thumbs up as I drive by – which he never sees.
2. I might go see a movie with Rambo this weekend. I really want to see the movie “What to expect when you’re expecting”. Have you seen the previews? There is one part where a woman is in labor and she asks for an epidural and her husband says, “Honey – you said that if you asked for an epidural that it would only be the pain talking and you really don’t want one and I shouldn’t let you get one no matter what.”
She then slaps him hard and says, “GARY – GET ME THE JUICE!”
That was me 11 years ago. Before I had Watermelon – I told Rambo that no matter what I said and did or how much I yelled or cried or swore obscenities – that under no circumstances did I want an epidural and he had the final say so as to whether or not the doctor would give me one.
About halfway through my TWENTIETH hour of non-medicated one minute apart contractions – I said the hell with it and began BEGGING for an epidural.
I didn’t even get the words out of my mouth and Rambo looked at the doctor and said, “Give her the epidural.”
Nice backbone, huh? Thinking he could bear to see me in pain on purpose was dumb on my part.
Not so for my mom – she took the doctor aside and said, “Don’t give her one. She doesn’t really want it.”
Then I shanked my mom. And screamed for another 4 hours – without an epidural.
3. Me, Rambo and Watermelon watched a show last night. It was the season finale and therefore, it was a HUGE tear jerker. A baby died. A mother had to face it. Her colleagues had to face it with her.
I had tears rolling. Watermelon looked at me and said, “Mom – this is too sad.” – as tears rolled down her cheeks too.
Hours later, Watermelon said to me, “Mom…that show was awful. I had to cry.”
I said, “I know. It’s okay – so did I. Some shows can do that to you.”
She whispered, “Never tell Daddy, but I saw big tears inside his eyes too. They didn’t fall but I saw them there. Can you believe that?”
Yes. I can. I saw them too.
When Rambo was 17 and his Dad left for war and he had to take care of a farm on his own – he never cried.
When Rambo’s best friend took his own life and I had to be the one to tell him – he never cried.
When Rambo’s favorite person in his whole life, his Grandpa, was in a tragic tractor accident right in front of Rambo and fire prevented Rambo from successfully rescuing him so he had to stand there and watch his Grandpa die – he never cried.
In 22 years – he hasn’t cried. Except for twice.
And he didn’t cry then. He actually wept and sobbed and held on to me with a tightness I’d never felt before.
The moment Watermelon was born. And the moment Banana was born.
So when a show comes on that has to do with babies and mothers and parenting and it’s painful….then no…the unfallen tears in his eyes don’t surprise me and I have no problem believing it.
4. I suck at being a housewife AND a career woman. I can do one or the other really well – but both – um…not so much. The proof is in the condition of my toilet. Shrek would refuse to live there it’s so nasty. I cannot deal.
5. I think I have a shoe problem. I’m like the people on that show “Hoarders” except it’s only in shoes. I know I have a problem because this whole week I have been EARLY or right on time to leave my house - UNTIL the part of the morning comes where I have to find my shoes. Today after 10 minutes of digging in the shoe piles I told Watermelon and Banana that I had to finish doing my hair and it was now their job to find my other shoe. I walked away a little worried I may never see them again but I had to take that risk.
5 minutes later Banana came in and said, “I can’t find it Mom.”
Another 5 minutes later, Watermelon came in and said, “I can’t find it either Mom.”
Soooo once again – as has been every morning this week – I literally have gotten down on all fours and sorted through mounds of shoes trying to find the right ones.
This is a problem. The two 10 foot shelves made for keeping shoes organized are full – stacked 3 pair deep each. Is it wrong that I want to build a shoe “house”? I’d like to employ shoe smurfs also. Like I go to my shoe house in the morning and tell the Smurfs which pair I want and their cute little blue butts go in and find the right shoes for me. How could anyone ever have a bad day if the last thing you saw before leaving your house before work was a cute little blue Smurf handing you your shoes for the day?
Sigh. Seriously. It’s becoming a real time issue in the mornings. I’ve got to find a solution because as far as I know there aren’t any unemployed Smurfs hanging out in Podunk.
And no – I cannot pick them out the night before. Tried that. I always end up changing my outfit come that morning based on how I “feel”. I’m a woman. It’s my right. And duty.
That's all I got. Can't wait to read your TTTs!