Anniversary

Tomorrow is the big day, my 20th wedding annivesary. I wish I could post some pictures of my wedding, but it was before the digital age. I guess I'll just have to reminisce the old-fashioned way.

We had such a beautiful day, back in 1988. It was the perfect April day, sunny and temperatures in the 70s. Our wedding was at 7:30 in the evening, so it was still light when it started, but dark by the time we left the church at 9:00. Looking back on it, that seems incredibly late in the day to have a wedding, but there was a 5:00 mass at our church, and we had to wait until it was over to start our wedding. We wanted to have our pictures taken before the wedding, and suddenly it's 7:30 before we can start.

Anyway, we gathered for pictures at 4:00. Well, most of us gathered. Everybody was there except the groom. Fortunately, we had been dating for six years by that point, so I knew that he was just running late -- as usual -- and I was not going to be stood up at the altar. As always, Paul had a great excuse for his tardiness. He decided to get the car washed before the wedding. He got in the car wash line, which was between two big buildings. Once you commit to the car wash line, you're not getting out. And guess what! The line wasn't moving. So he was stuck in the car wash line while I was enduring ever-more-panicked jokes about "where's Paul?" "Do you think he's coming?" I have one picture in my wedding album which features Paul's brother and myself. He was single at the time, and I said, "I'm getting married tonight, and if Paul doesn't show then it's your lucky night." We got our picture taken together just in case he turned out to be the groom.

But Paul finally showed up, just as I knew he would, and we were married at 7:30 in the evening, on April 30, 1988.

There were two funny snafu's during the wedding itself. The first of which happened during the prayers of the faithful. For those of you who aren't Catholic, the prayers of the faithful happen during the mass when somebody reads special prayer intentions and the congregation responds with "Lord, hear our prayer." So one of the prayers was supposed to be, "For all the young people, looking forward to their vocation." My sister-in-law, reading the prayers, screwed up and said, "For all the young people, looking forward to their vacation." OK, maybe it wasn't that funny, but I was already nervous, and I just about lost it. You can see me in the video, shaking with laughter for a good five minutes. I mean, I'm dying laughing, and I can't stop. Paul, in the meantime, was spacing off and didn't even hear the screw up. So he's just kneeling beside me, staring off into space while I'm about to collapse, which only made it worse.

The second snafu happened when my mother-in-law, (God love her) sent a note to the organist and asked him to play her favorite hymn, "On Eagle's Wings." Prior to the wedding, we had numerous discussions about the music, and Paul and I adamantly refused to have "Eagle's Wings" in the wedding. I love the song, I really do, but I associate it with funerals. But my mother-in-law really wanted the song, and so there I was, at the altar, powerless, when the song I had selected stopped abruptly, and "Eagle's Wings" started up. You should have seen my face on the video. I think my reaction was quite visible. Of course, the video was given to my in-laws while we were on the honeymoon, and I always worried about my mother-in-law and what she thought when she saw my reaction. To this day, we laugh about this...kind of.

Overall, the wedding went off without a hitch, and the reception was fantastic. We had a band, kind of a jazzy-type band, with a fantastic black lady as lead singer. I asked her to play Aretha Franklin's "R-E-S-P-E-C-T" and dedicate it to Paul as a joke, (and because she was just like Aretha in voice anyway.) The funny thing was this: Paul had left the reception and didn't even hear my dedication. Ironic, don't you think? He realized that he had forgotten our camera and went home to get it so we'd have it on our honeymoon. I might be going out on a limb here, but I bet he could have sent someone else to get the camera since he was at his own wedding, but whatever. He gets a giant kick out of remembering this little detail. It was pretty funny, even I admit that.

After the wedding we had a room on the top floor of the downtown Hyatt, where I lost my underwear. TMI? Probably. We had to get up at the crack-o-dawn to catch our flight to Jamaica. Paul was still in a stupor, and he got lost on the way to the airport. We had to run through the airport to catch our plane, which was a fitting preview of my life to come. Running at airports. It happens.

Well, I'm really looking forward to tomorrow. I have some surprises planned for Paul. I'm hoping he has a little suprise in his pocket for me. Get your mind out of the gutter! Last week, I picked out a little something from our jeweler-friend and I think it will look a lot like this:




only BIGGER!

My Dogwood

Isn't it beautiful? This was taken today --April 26, 2008.

Oh yeah. My washing machine is broken. The tub is cracked. A cracked tub. Congratulations is you have no personal experience with a cracked tub. Because when your tub cracks, all the water that should have gone into the tub goes on the floor instead. Translation: Flood. Good times!

The other part of the broken washer equation is this: Laundry panic. Having four kids means that I do two loads a day. Can you imagine how fast that adds up?

So Paul and I spent a rockin' Friday night at Sears and Lowes, looking for a new washer. The good news is that I think I'm going to get one of those nice, new high efficiency, high capacity washing machines. Naturally, I'll need a new dryer to keep up with all that clean laundry. Right now my kitchen is chaos, with laundry equipment and tools everywhere. But I'm hoping to purchase a new "laundry center" this afternoon and maybe my kick-ass, handyman CPA husband can have it installed by next weekend.

Elvira Gulch lives here

What do you do when you walk in to work one day and the boss says, "Jennifer, you're giving a presentation on rape"?

Well, you give a presentation on rape. But not before lots of cursing and whining under your breath.

Today is my presentation. The entire population of the federal building has been invited, approximately 3,000 people, but I'm hoping for an audience of five or less. What do I know about rape? Geez! Not much, but more than I did a week ago.

Oh well.

Yesterday I found out that Elvira Gulch, (aka The Wicked Witch of the West) lives somewhere on our block. My neighbor called and asked me if I knew the really mean lady that walks up our street. Evidently, the mean lady yelled at the little neighbor boy because his dog was out in the yard without a leash. She told the poor kid that she was going to call the police. Then she yelled at the mother. Granted, the dog should have been on a leash. But don't you think a little boy should be allowed to play with his doggie without being yelled at by Wicked Witches and threatened by the police? And if you could see this dog: He's a dead-ringer for Toto. OK, he's white and Toto was beige, but otherwise he's a dead-ringer. I mean, this is not a scary dog. His name is Buddy for godsakes.

People should not be so damn cranky.

FaceBook???

I opened up a FaceBook account. It's official: I have too much time on my hands. Laurita has been on it for a long time now, and claims that it's fun. So far I have no clue how to work it. I know...all you young and savvy people know what to do. I've seen your sites. I know you have cool pictures and all kinds of writing on your walls. Not me. I'm a FaceBook loser!

Actually, I do feel like a FaceBook loser right now. Who will be my FaceBook friend? How pathetic. If you feel sorry for me, then please, invite me to be your friend.

Thanks.

Life's Little Frustrations, (they just keep a-comin')

I know, I know -- anybody who signs up for the motherhood gig can expect a little poop. In reality, there's a lot of poop. Literally: poop. My youngest is eight years old, and I'm still dealing with it.

Twice today I have had to clean poop off the bathroom floor. Once I was lucky enough to see it and avert disaster, no big deal. One Lysol Sanitizing Wipe and it was history. It was just a little poop, the product of zealous wiping combined with inexperience. My son David found the second poop. It was in the kids' bathroom. He stepped in it, and immediately wiped his foot on the brand new, snow white bathroom rug.

And then there's the teenager. She is starting on medication for ADD tomorrow. This is the last straw. If it doesn't help, I give up. This morning, I said, "Anna, here's a written excuse for your doctor's appointment. Don't forget it." She forgot it. We got to the doctor and she was complaining about being hungry. I said, "Anna, why didn't you eat your breakfast? You left half of it on the table." She thought she ate it. Tonight at 7:30 pm, I was driving her to dance. She said, "I need a compass for school tomorrow." I asked her why she waited until the night beforehand to tell me. "I forgot."

And what about the "To-Do" list that is accumulating for Paul? Every year during tax season there is some major home repair that needs to be done, but must wait until he is free. This year it's the wooden fence. I knew it was about to go. I called the fence company and they came out and confirmed that it was toast. They gave me a bid for a new one, but informed me that there's a two-week waiting period once you accept the bid. Earlier this week I walked outside to find a huge section of the fence lying in my driveway. We were unable to dislodge it completely, so it's still hanging down over the retaining wall of my driveway. It is a very public and humiliating repair, which has to wait because Paul won't accept the bid until he calls the company and complains that the fence didn't last long enough, and demand a discount. Of course, he can't get to that little project until after April 15, which only delays the two-week waiting period. I'm anticipating a citation from the Home Owner's Association any day now.

OH MY GOD! I just now found out that it's a four-day weekend off school this week. See? It just keeps happening. Frustration after frustration! Of course I'm working on Friday! Of course my kids will be completely unsupervised on Friday. DAMN, DAMN, DAMN! Can this really be happening?

Big News: My choir is going to Italy next spring! I have been singing with this group for five or six years now, and they are such a fun bunch of people. We are taking a tour which includes Rome, Florence, Assisi, Montepulciano and San Gimignano (pictured). As a group, we decided we wanted to spend most of our time in small towns in the Tuscany region, but we are also making some short visits to the larger cities of Rome and Florence. We'll sing several masses in different churches along the way. It is going to be fun, fun, fun. Paul, my fabulous husband, consented to go on this trip with me even though he doesn't know the group very well. What a guy. I'm so lucky.

The best part -- I think -- is this: Anna has been invited to go along with the group as an au pair. There's another couple in the choir that want to take their children on the tour. Anna has been babysitting for this family for a couple of years and they have offered to take her so she can help out. Wowza! I never landed a babysitting job like that! I'm really happy for her, but I was telling her that she needs to study up on the region and history if she wants to get the most out of the trip. So if anybody knows of some good, entertaining books that include Roman or Italian history, let me know. I'm thinking of books like "In the Company of the Courtesan: A Novel" by Sarah Dunant. It's a work of fiction set in old Rome and Venice. Books like that would keep her entertained, while teaching her something about the country. Suggestions?

I Guess You Had To Be There

This might not be very funny unless you were there, but I will attempt to tell the story anyway.

I worked yesterday, and my office is in the Federal Building. We are on the ground floor. Sometimes after lunch, I hike up to the 18th floor for exercise. It might not sound like much, but 18 stories is enough to get my heart rate up pretty well. Our secretary decided to make the hike with me yesterday for the first time. When we got to the fifth floor, we were breathing hard, and I said, "C'mon, LaDonna, you can't give up now. There's always a really hot guy on the stairwell between the seventh & eighth floor!" So we went up a couple more flights and the door to the stairwell starts to open. We looked at each other expectantly, and into the stairwell comes a middle-aged woman.

"Psych!" I said.

We ascended one more flight, and suddenly, into the stairwell walks Mr. Hottie. He walked in and smiled at us, and I giggled like a school girl. I couldn't help it! It was just so funny that I had predicted that we would see him, and there he was, right on schedule! LaDonna said, "Take your 'psych' back." And I did.

It was awesome!!!

My Life as a Llama

If you've never seen the kid's movie "The Emperor's New Groove" with David Spade, then you're missing out. I don't care how old you are, that movie is hilarious.

Kind of like my life.

There's a scene in which the Emperor Kuzco (who has been transformed into a Llama by an evil magic potion) is floating down a river with his companion, Pacha. They are having a terrible time and things just keep getting worse. The two are floating downstream when they have this little dialogue:

Pacha: Uh-oh.
Kuzco: Don't tell me. We're about to go over a huge waterfall.
Pacha: Yep.
Kuzco: Sharp rocks at the bottom?
Pacha: Most likely.
Kuzco: Bring it on.

And this is exactly how I feel right about now: BRING IT ON.

Little MJ starts puking as I walk out the door this morning? Bring it on. Little MJ is still puking when I get home tonight? Bring it on. Paul can't take off work tomorrow, my mom is busy and I absolutely, positively HAVE to work? Just bring it on.

You get to the point where you have no choice. No matter how crappy things get...BRING IT THE F--- ON! Just bring it on.

If MJ is still sick tomorrow morning, he's coming to work with me. We have a bed and a TV and he can lay there while I take care of the three (bring it on) ATF agents who are scheduled for the morning.

Oh...it's supposed to be raining buckets during rush hour when I have to walk three blocks to our building with a small, sick child? Whatever...bring it on.

Mommy's Little Helper

You know, Bird really likes to help me out around the house. In this picture, we are working on the hot lunch order form. As you can see, she is checking my accuracy. Those forms can be very complicated.

Whodunnit?

The Crime:












The Suspect:

March Madness -- in April.

What a day! Saturdays can be so very long when the first soccer game is at 8:00 AM. The soccer field is a 20-minute drive, so I had to get up at 6:45. On my way out the door to take Michael to his game, I woke Kathleen and said, "Find a ride to your game!" Fortunately, the person who scheduled us for an 8:00 game every stinking Saturday is protected by anonymity. Otherwise his or her life would be in serious danger. I can only look forward to that beautiful, wonderful day, in two short weeks, when my only duty will be to kick my husband in the butt until he gets out of bed to take the wee Michael to yet another crack-o-dawn game.

Anyway, the minute Michael's game was finished, I had to race home to get my other son to his game. Kathleen's game was at the same time on the opposite side of the city. This required me to drop David at his friend's house so they could take him to his game, while I rushed out to Kathleen's field in time to see the last five minutes of her game before shuffling her home.

Bitch, Moan, Whine...

Single Mothers of the World -- HOW DO YOU DO IT?

Kathleen has another game tomorrow, but I had to arrange for her to go with a friend since I will be singing at mass. Crazy times.

Just now Anna got home from her date and offered me a bite of her chicken. Yummy! Buffalo Wild Wings Honey BBQ is quite tasty, I really must say. However, as soon as I took the bite, from a piece that she was already eating, she says, "my stomach hurts, I'm going to bed." WHA...? Your stomach hurts, and you just gave me your cooties! I do not have time to puke.

And in the meantime, two cop cars with lights and sirens just pulled up to a house on my street. Kathleen is babysitting the neighbors who live two doors down from the police action. So I tried to call her, no answer. Great. I pull on my coat, leave my sleeping babies home alone, and walk past the police situation and over to the house where she is babysitting. I walk in the unlocked front door, calling her name. No answer. I go through the downstairs, and notice that the back door is wide open. Still can't find anybody. I walk upstairs. "Kathleen?" No answer. Finally, I hear a TV in the attic and I go up there to find Kathleen and all the kids. They have no idea that anything is happening. I say, "Kathleen! Come here!" And I show her the open doors and I tell her that the police are practically next door, doing God-Knows-What! Oh my. Good times.

Hi. I'm a dork.

This may be the dorkiest thing I've ever admitted, but here it is: I think it would be fun to be a Civil War nurse in one of those reenactments!

Little MJ's Cub Scout meeting tonight was a presentation by a Civil War reenactor. He had all these authentic Civil War medical implements, and he talked at length about how they were used. First of all, I love history, and it would really kick ass to get to wear one of those old nurse costumes! The presenter told me they're looking for nurses and I'm sorely tempted. I think I'll take the kids to one of the reenactments this weekend and check it out. I doubt I really have the time, but you never know. The presenter said the nurses get to assist the surgeons in the battlefield hospitals, and one of the things they get to do is to operate the syringes which squirt stage blood all over everything. Now -- am I crazy, or would that be a ton o' fun?