Posts tagged ‘the daily grind’

a net

Last year my now fourth grader listened intently as one of her classmates’ mother was reading to the class. Apparently she was reading from a joke book, right? So, the volunteer-reader-mom lady says to the class, “What do you call a girl who is really good at fishing?”

Maggie, who is ever-eager to have the right answer FIRST belts out: ” A HOOKER!”

Peals of laughter errupted, interspersed with an occasional, “Woooo! Maaaagieeeeeee!” from her peers. Maggie’s friend said, “Maggie! You said a bad word!”

To which Maggie replied, “I DID NOT say a bad WORD! It’s a bad thing. But that’s NOT a bad word!”

That afternoon after school, Maggie recounted the entire experience to me with many giggles over her accidentally innappropriate outburst. Then she said, “The ACTUAL answer to the joke was “Annette”. (a- NET). Get it? I think my answer was much funnier!”

…Admittedly, I do, too!

September 26, 2012 at 12:16 pm Leave a comment

yeah, i’m kind of a party pooper…what’s it to ya?

The very idea of crowds sets off alarms in my psyche. Retreat! Retreat!! Sounding in my head in conjunction with the concept of close quarters with lots of people are the type of alarms that sounded in the movie, SILKWOOD, when Meryl Streep was exposed to radiation and they had to strip her down and shower her right there at the workplace.

But why? idk y’all. But, it’s clearly an inherited trait. I got it from my mother. She got it from her mother. I don’t know who Mama Margie got it from. It’s not fun to be the one who doesn’t wanna go to whatever THING the kids wanna go to. But, that’s me. Now, nine times outa ten, if I’ll push through it and go on…Face up to it and focus on other people having fun and me trying not to look like how I really feel…Well, I do fine. Typically.

All that said: We’ve got a harvest festival with games and candy and face painting and all that mess coming up at church.

Sheeeeeesh. I’d rather be horse-whipped.

October 27, 2010 at 10:26 am Leave a comment

willow weep for me

I figure when Terry and I die, the girls will probably strike a match and run from the house.

This morning I said to Jessye that she and I needed to get back on that laundry situation, explaining that if she and I would get back into doing our one load a day EACH every day, that we could grab hold of this situation in pretty short order.

“Ya know, the laundry pile’s really not THAT bad right now.” I reassured my sixteen year old daughter. At which point, Jessye turned to me and said, in utter disbelief and confusion, “Uhhhh, WHAT pile are YOUUUUUU lookin’ at?”

At that point then she and I both just fell out laughin’!

Now get this: TONIGHT? (And I TOTALLY FORGOT)…TONIGHT is our family’s appointment for the church directory pictures. Ohhhhhhh me! As if our being in an apathy-driven laundry crisis already isn’t enough, I have absolutely NO CLUE as to what we’ll all wear that might SORTA coordinate? Yikes! That’s at 7:10pm. Now THIS is gonna be a challenge in and of itself, mind you. BUT, on top of the whole “what will we all wear”  issue is the fact that MY HAIR is in serious need of color. If somebody asked me what color my hair is, I could only answer, “Mixed” with any honesty. So, when I get home tonight I’ve got to lock myself in the bathroom for a minimum of a half hour (if I work at break-neck speed) so I can color my hair before this photo that everyone in the church will be staring at for the next FIVE YEARS!

Willow, weep for me!

I remember VIVIDLY the last time it was church pictorial directory time. It was October 2004. Maggie was about to turn three. Jessye was thirteen. We were relatively new members at our church. Most people still didn’t know my name. They just referred to me as “Terry’s Wife”. (Some still do, I might add.) Anyhoo, I remember frantically getting dressed at Mama and Daddy’s house…where (God bless ‘em) we lived for the six months we were waiting for our house in Nashville to sell. Five years later, it will be an equally frantic night tonight. Once we finally arrived for our picture-taking appt, we sat with that photographer for THIRTY minutes. All the while a lengthy line was forming outside the door. And whyyyy? Why, you ask?? Because every time the photographer would be ready to take the picture, Maggie would spring forward with her hands in the air, giggling. It was cute the first seventeen times she did it, of course. But, by the time we left that room, everybody in the church was glaring in reproach as we filed past them into the viewing room to make our digital preview selections. Or, it sure felt like they were. I DEFINITELY would’ve snarled at us had myyyyyy family been the ones waiting an eternity in the wings.

And it was in that selection time that I realized that the HUGE bruise that I had sooooo carefully hidden on Maggie’s forehead with her fine little side-swept bangs? That bruise was displayed proudly on our toddler’s noggin in each and every pose our family had.

I have no idea why my babies always picked the week before pictures to swan dive off the couch or run into another child on the playground. But, you could set your clock by it. Picture appointments=kids that appear to have been clubbed.

September 17, 2009 at 12:16 pm 1 comment


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