My water therapy is getting better by the minute. Now, my Mom and I are going together. She had her knee replaced a month ago, so now we are side-by-side swimming stars.
On our first day, I let Mom lead the way into the locker room. I knew what to expect, however, I failed to give her proper warning. As we were heading out to the pool she commented "What, is that some sort of nudist colony in there?"
"Well, Mom, you aint seen nothin' yet. When we get back you'll get to meet Hairy-ette and Muffy. They always put on a show for the new kids."
She giggled, as she thought I was kidding. However, on the car ride home, she had a lot to say. "Did you see that woman standing naked blow-drying her hair? Can you believe she didn't put some clothes on? She was bent over and her ladies were practically touching the floor!"
"Oh, that was Hairy-ette. She likes to put on a show. I think she's a nudist. I'm not quite sure yet. "
"And did you see that really big lady with the tatoo of the butterfly on her rear?"
"That was a rose tatoo."
"No, it was a butterfly, I'm sure."
"Mom, I swear, it is a rose. When she bends over, the skin straightens out, and it is definately a rose. I had a close-up view."
"Oh. . . is it always like that?"
"No. Muffy wasn't there today. Usually it's worse."
(Long pause) "I hope your brother get's his pool open soon."
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
The Start of Summer
Woo hoo. Summer is here. Yippy skippy. That means that my three crazy children are now with me 100% of the time. It's super. Really. Really, REALLY SUPER.
We had a very exciting last week of school. My middle child, Deuce graduated from Kindergarten, and had a wonderful moving up ceremony at school. The morning of his ceremony I had him dressed and ready to head out the door and he informs me that he has a solo in the concert. Naturally, I had to hobble back inside the house and grab a shirt that didn't have milk spilled down the front so he could be somewhat presentable.
I had no idea that he had a solo (or that he could sing for that matter) so I sat anxiously on the bleachers waiting for my proud mom moment. Before the concert they handed out perfect attendance awards and lo and behold Deuce recieved an award for perfect attendance. Yes, I know, I sent my sick child to school. I am guilty. I don't think I ever did it on purpose. Honestly, Deuce is such a spontaneous sick person. There is no advance warning when he is going to be sick. I get a "Mom, I think I'm going to be -VOMIT- sick." (My Girlfriend was sitting next to me and ironically, her daughter had perfect attendance too. And, I can remember running into her at 9:30 one morning as we were both picking up puking kids. So, thankfully, I am not alone.) He was so proud of his award that he wouldn't set it down.
Well, Deuce's song finally came up and he took his place in front of the microphone. (Still clutching his Perfect Attendance Award for dear life.) His class began singing the words to "Old Man Tucker." He stood in front of the microphone, dead still, not blinking, not breathing, not moving. Just had his had on the microphone like he was a rockstar. I was beginning to think that he had choked when apparantly his solo came up. And with all his heart he belted out "Get out the way." "Get out the way." "Get out the way." I cried. He even had his knee tapping he was so in to it. (Deuce is my shy child. Well, the shyest of the three. But, they are spawn of Paco, so I guess it is in their blood. Nonetheless, I was completely blown away.)
I cried on and off all afternoon after that. I don't know if it was the overwhelming pride for my child or the realization that in a days time that all three would be home with me for the next 77 days. . .
We had a very exciting last week of school. My middle child, Deuce graduated from Kindergarten, and had a wonderful moving up ceremony at school. The morning of his ceremony I had him dressed and ready to head out the door and he informs me that he has a solo in the concert. Naturally, I had to hobble back inside the house and grab a shirt that didn't have milk spilled down the front so he could be somewhat presentable.
I had no idea that he had a solo (or that he could sing for that matter) so I sat anxiously on the bleachers waiting for my proud mom moment. Before the concert they handed out perfect attendance awards and lo and behold Deuce recieved an award for perfect attendance. Yes, I know, I sent my sick child to school. I am guilty. I don't think I ever did it on purpose. Honestly, Deuce is such a spontaneous sick person. There is no advance warning when he is going to be sick. I get a "Mom, I think I'm going to be -VOMIT- sick." (My Girlfriend was sitting next to me and ironically, her daughter had perfect attendance too. And, I can remember running into her at 9:30 one morning as we were both picking up puking kids. So, thankfully, I am not alone.) He was so proud of his award that he wouldn't set it down.
Well, Deuce's song finally came up and he took his place in front of the microphone. (Still clutching his Perfect Attendance Award for dear life.) His class began singing the words to "Old Man Tucker." He stood in front of the microphone, dead still, not blinking, not breathing, not moving. Just had his had on the microphone like he was a rockstar. I was beginning to think that he had choked when apparantly his solo came up. And with all his heart he belted out "Get out the way." "Get out the way." "Get out the way." I cried. He even had his knee tapping he was so in to it. (Deuce is my shy child. Well, the shyest of the three. But, they are spawn of Paco, so I guess it is in their blood. Nonetheless, I was completely blown away.)
I cried on and off all afternoon after that. I don't know if it was the overwhelming pride for my child or the realization that in a days time that all three would be home with me for the next 77 days. . .
Thursday, June 25, 2009
The End of A Miracle
People who assume water therapy is calm and serene have never attended one of my sessions. I have an amazing ability to stir things up and create a small amount of havoc.
Naturally, my last session was not without some drama.
Part of my therapy involves holding a small beachball between my knees and pedalling like I am riding a bike. I have to do this for 5 minutes. Naturally, I am completely bored after a minute or two. So, to spice things up a bit, I started doing some fancy Synchronized Swimming arm movements while I biked.
Just as I was starting to think that I was of Olympic caliber, my ball escaped from between my knees and rocketed up and out of the water. And, um, just happened to hit the lady next to me on the side of her head and knock her glasses off. (But seriously, WHO wears glasses in the pool??? Isn't that weird?) So, that quickly ended my water dancing.
However, as I was waving my arms in the air, Jed happened to notice that the underwire popped through the fabric on my Miraclesuit. I kinda freaked and screamed "WHAT THE FFFFFF??" to Jed. "This is the most money I've ever spent on a swimsuit and I've only had it 2 months!!!!"
I could see the look of relief on Jed's face as he realized that I wasn't yelling at him for gawking at my girlies. (My girls look FABULOUS in the pool by the way. They float ever so perfectly and look better than any 20 year-olds. Sadly, the effect is lost the minute I leave the water.)
Naturally, I spent the next 5 minutes trying to fix my suit and get the wire tucked back into the fabric. This process involved me rubbing my hand under my girl to move the wire over, as well as me lifting and tucking my girlie so that I could see what I was doing. (I was completely covered at all times. Promise)
I was so intent on fixing my suit that I failed to notice that Jed, Ed, and Fred were all watching me with great interest. I happened to glance up and Fred was in a near catatonic state, while Ed looked like he just won the Lotto.
Ooops, perhaps I should have waited until I got back to the Locker Room. Then I could've put on my show for Hairy-ette and Muffy.
I had no idea of the er, "effect" that my little girlie show could possibly have until it was time for the class to end, and um, Jed couldn't get out of the water. He needed a "few more minutes to relax in the water."
Sorry 'bout that pal. It's good to know that not every male needs the little blue pills in the golden years.
Naturally I am DEVASTATED at the loss of my beloved Miraclesuit. However, after 14 frantic phone calls to Travelsmith, I will now be the owner of a NEW Miraclesuit.
And I will do my best to avoid anymore Girly shows in the future.
Naturally, my last session was not without some drama.
Part of my therapy involves holding a small beachball between my knees and pedalling like I am riding a bike. I have to do this for 5 minutes. Naturally, I am completely bored after a minute or two. So, to spice things up a bit, I started doing some fancy Synchronized Swimming arm movements while I biked.
Just as I was starting to think that I was of Olympic caliber, my ball escaped from between my knees and rocketed up and out of the water. And, um, just happened to hit the lady next to me on the side of her head and knock her glasses off. (But seriously, WHO wears glasses in the pool??? Isn't that weird?) So, that quickly ended my water dancing.
However, as I was waving my arms in the air, Jed happened to notice that the underwire popped through the fabric on my Miraclesuit. I kinda freaked and screamed "WHAT THE FFFFFF??" to Jed. "This is the most money I've ever spent on a swimsuit and I've only had it 2 months!!!!"
I could see the look of relief on Jed's face as he realized that I wasn't yelling at him for gawking at my girlies. (My girls look FABULOUS in the pool by the way. They float ever so perfectly and look better than any 20 year-olds. Sadly, the effect is lost the minute I leave the water.)
Naturally, I spent the next 5 minutes trying to fix my suit and get the wire tucked back into the fabric. This process involved me rubbing my hand under my girl to move the wire over, as well as me lifting and tucking my girlie so that I could see what I was doing. (I was completely covered at all times. Promise)
I was so intent on fixing my suit that I failed to notice that Jed, Ed, and Fred were all watching me with great interest. I happened to glance up and Fred was in a near catatonic state, while Ed looked like he just won the Lotto.
Ooops, perhaps I should have waited until I got back to the Locker Room. Then I could've put on my show for Hairy-ette and Muffy.
I had no idea of the er, "effect" that my little girlie show could possibly have until it was time for the class to end, and um, Jed couldn't get out of the water. He needed a "few more minutes to relax in the water."
Sorry 'bout that pal. It's good to know that not every male needs the little blue pills in the golden years.
Naturally I am DEVASTATED at the loss of my beloved Miraclesuit. However, after 14 frantic phone calls to Travelsmith, I will now be the owner of a NEW Miraclesuit.
And I will do my best to avoid anymore Girly shows in the future.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
More tales from Water World
Major drama in the pool. Serious drama.
Someone is trying to steal my thunder and replace me as the cutest girl in the pool. WTF?????? Can you believe that?????? I'm devastated.
Betty not only wears her fancy beaded necklace that perfectly matches her insanely bright floral bathing suit, but she also comes to therapy completely drunk. And I friggen LOOOOOOOOOOOOVE her. Seriously, she is the "batshit crazy lady who is missing her tinfoil hat" that now adds a wonderful touch of unpredictability to my aquatic therapy. And she is cute as a button.
If I had to guess, I'd say she is in her late 80's. But she says she's "50 and holding."
On our first day of therapy together, I was going through the normal motions of my routine, and Betty sashayed up beside me. I soon realized that she wanted to talk, and I was the lucky listener.
"Do you think this shit even works? I started this God-damned therapy shit last week, and now every damn part of me hurts instead of my back."
(Did I mention that I LA-HOVE her?)
Our trainer quickly caught on to our chat and decided to separate us and attempt to make us work a bit harder.
As I did my fancy cross-country swim across the pool, I heard Betty yell "you rotten bastard, how in the hell is that gonna help my damn back?"
I was laughing so hard I almost drowned.
Seriously, I am beginning to think that the only thing that could make my therapy any better is if they served wine.
Perhaps Betty is on to something. . .
Someone is trying to steal my thunder and replace me as the cutest girl in the pool. WTF?????? Can you believe that?????? I'm devastated.
Betty not only wears her fancy beaded necklace that perfectly matches her insanely bright floral bathing suit, but she also comes to therapy completely drunk. And I friggen LOOOOOOOOOOOOVE her. Seriously, she is the "batshit crazy lady who is missing her tinfoil hat" that now adds a wonderful touch of unpredictability to my aquatic therapy. And she is cute as a button.
If I had to guess, I'd say she is in her late 80's. But she says she's "50 and holding."
On our first day of therapy together, I was going through the normal motions of my routine, and Betty sashayed up beside me. I soon realized that she wanted to talk, and I was the lucky listener.
"Do you think this shit even works? I started this God-damned therapy shit last week, and now every damn part of me hurts instead of my back."
(Did I mention that I LA-HOVE her?)
Our trainer quickly caught on to our chat and decided to separate us and attempt to make us work a bit harder.
As I did my fancy cross-country swim across the pool, I heard Betty yell "you rotten bastard, how in the hell is that gonna help my damn back?"
I was laughing so hard I almost drowned.
Seriously, I am beginning to think that the only thing that could make my therapy any better is if they served wine.
Perhaps Betty is on to something. . .
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Potty Talk
Hello friends. Sorry I haven't written much lately. But honestly, there is very little to tell. I have spent my recent days sorting through bins and bins of boys clothes in an attempt to rid myself of massive amounts of "stuff." So, I dare not bore you with the details of label checking, folding, and bin stacking.
Anywhooooo, I do want to offer major thanks to all of you Girlfriends for coming through with my Lia Sophia book show. Not only was it the biggest catalogue show the hostess has ever had (can I get a whoot whoot!) BUT, I am now sitting here wearing $1400 worth of FABULOUS baubles!!!!!!! (Yes, I am currently wearing EVERY SINGLE piece because I just couldn't decide on one. They are all so magnificent!) So, thanks to you all!!!! (Um, all of you that ordered, that is!:-))
But, I do have the transcripts of a conversation I had with Trey yesterday that is quite amusing. This conversation takes place with Trey on the potty, and me standing outside the door.
Trey: "Mom, I don't want you to see my long poop. It's like a snake."
Me: "That's nice dear."
Trey: "Did you ever see my poop that looked like a donut? That was cool, right?"
Me: "Um, unfortunately I did."
Trey: "I'm not a good wiper. I get skid marks."
Me: choking on the laughter that I am holding in, and rolling on the floor. (I may have peed myself.)
Until next time . . .
Anywhooooo, I do want to offer major thanks to all of you Girlfriends for coming through with my Lia Sophia book show. Not only was it the biggest catalogue show the hostess has ever had (can I get a whoot whoot!) BUT, I am now sitting here wearing $1400 worth of FABULOUS baubles!!!!!!! (Yes, I am currently wearing EVERY SINGLE piece because I just couldn't decide on one. They are all so magnificent!) So, thanks to you all!!!! (Um, all of you that ordered, that is!:-))
But, I do have the transcripts of a conversation I had with Trey yesterday that is quite amusing. This conversation takes place with Trey on the potty, and me standing outside the door.
Trey: "Mom, I don't want you to see my long poop. It's like a snake."
Me: "That's nice dear."
Trey: "Did you ever see my poop that looked like a donut? That was cool, right?"
Me: "Um, unfortunately I did."
Trey: "I'm not a good wiper. I get skid marks."
Me: choking on the laughter that I am holding in, and rolling on the floor. (I may have peed myself.)
Until next time . . .
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