our crazy little world. read on if you dare. i promise you'll giggle.

We Three

We Three

Wednesday, May 30, 2012

The Orange Dress

Settling Eileen into bed this evening...


E: I love you Mommy. 
(in my head thinking how much I love the un-prompted phrase my child just uttered..)
Me: I love you too Monkey.
E: You're just such a good helper. 


Well. I'll take what I can get, right?!  


With each passing day, her sense of humor gets better and better. We have an almost six year old cynic. Is that bad? I certainly have not a clue where she'd have picked that up.... 


She's been at Summer Camp for two days now. She LOVES it. Which is not to say she didn't love all her years at MStar.. this is just different and new and they are outside almost all day. Not to mention swimming twice a day, every day, all summer. I want to suggest to the camp director that they stick the kids in a classroom and start a Summer Camp for the Mommies and Daddies. Who's with me? 


Summer. 
Watermelon. Swimming. Ice Cream Trucks. Daylight until 9pm. Fireflies. Blazing hot days and warm evenings. Flip Flops. Dresses. Lemonade (with or without additional enhancements) and lemonade stands. Sangria. Flowers. Fresh Cut Grass. Tan faces and tanned legs. Eating on patios. Beer Market afternoons. Boats and Lakes. Lazy nights after work letting the kids play. Windows open with radio playing that one song that comes along every Summer to make you always remember that Summer. Bocce ball or Cornhole .. beer in one hand and sporting apparatus in the other. I could go on and on...


There is also..The Orange Dress. 
I am fairly certain I shall never part with this dress. 
I bought it years ago, on sale at jcrew.com. I know it was before Eileen was born, quite possibly when we still lived in our apartment. 


It's a super casual bright orange dress. Sleeveless. Just above the knee. Shift Dress. These days more of a potato sack. It has pockets and is certainly faded. And there is no more comfortable article of clothing I have owned. Ever. 


And each year when I put it on for the first time, Summer has Officially Arrived. There was a time I could have worn it to work, or to a laid back dinner or afternoon cocktails. Now it is more of a running errands dress or hanging out after the pool dress. 


Today was the first day of Orange Dress 2012. 
Josh and Bill were heading to the storage place to get a couple of things out. So we decided to get takeout and eat together at the Loebners, then let the men go move heavy things while Sarah and I did bath time and played with the girls. 


So after a day at work and a somewhat warm evening, coupled with a grumbly tummy that wanted nothing to do with any sort of actual waist band... I stood staring blankly at my closet trying to decide what to throw on that wasn't pajamas. 


And the Orange Dress flung itself from its hanger and slapped me upside the head. Putting it on literally makes me giddy. 


I ran into the den to announce Summer's Arrival to Bill. Somehow instead I managed to scare the shit out of him as he chilled on the couch, which somewhat ruined the moment. Eh. Who cares?


It is SUMMER TIME PEOPLE. 
Don't let it pass you by. 

Tuesday, May 29, 2012

Stream of Consciousness.. or something of that nature...

Yeah, it's one of those picture-less posts.  There are times when I have blog ideas running rampant through my head and they don't always coincide with when I've gotten around to uploading and editing recent photos. 


but i figure you're not actually here to see pictures of Mini Me right?! you're here because of my ever-entertaining writing style!


"Do you ALWAYS carry an extra pair of shoes in your purse?!"... that was asked of me by one of my good friends mom's. at Pre-K graduation. And the answer is yes, yes I do. At least in the summer! My love of flip-flops is no secret. I also happen to work in Corporate America, where flip-flops aren't always a good fit. So, especially on a day I wear heels.. YEP.. I have flip-flops on hand. And at graduation, I'd had on heels... and promptly switched into flip flops (cute ones of course), therefore my silver heels were stashed in my purse. 


(for the record, said friend's mom agreed with my brilliant idea). 


"Yeah man. The water is definitely more salty today than it was yesterday..."  overheard last week at the beach. Ok. wait. what?  I realize I am not eligible for MENSA, but is that possible? I mean can the ocean be more salty one day than another? To the level that a human (one who has consumed a good deal of Miller Lite) can actually tell?


Speaking of the beach. The general population - nothing short of terrifying. 


At the condo we rented, there are rentable chairs/umbrellas. Set up for you each morning along the water's edge. The guys who run the outfit generally place you in the same spot, next to the same people, for the week. In most cases this makes sense. Unless you are placed next to the Grumpiest Parents on Earth. To review: we're at THE BEACH. No rain, temps in low 80s, no humidity. Insanely white soft sand, turquoise water with waves big enough to play in yet small enough to not rip you in half. There were two boys- roughly 7-9 years old, and a daughter around 14 or 15.  The boys were pretty normal - lots of energy, short attention spans, and a little sibling bickering..certainly not overly obnoxious bratty kids. The girl was pleasant and helpful and nice. These parents did nothing but snipe at their kids. Loudly and with super nasal-y whiney voices. I think the life had been just sucked out of Dad. I felt bad for the kids, but not so bad that we didn't ask to please not be seated next to them anymore. Maybe the kids don't notice it because they are used to it. Maybe I only have one (and a half) kids and I have less reason to be a Professional Nagger. For more fun,  the parents are unfamiliar with headphones. Happy Mom was new to her iPhone, but she'd figured out how to make it play music. And decided she wanted to go to the water. Hands it to Lifeless Dad. Sitting about 18 inches from me. Lifeless Dad proceeds to hold the phone to his ear and listen to the music.  Are you kidding?! I mean, sure, maybe the iPhone is new to you. But headphones? Those came out about 100 years ago along with Sony Walkmans. and they come with the iPhone!  I exercised massive self control in that instance. And rewarded myself with another cocktail. 


Then there was Mature Couple in Black Sneakers.  K, I have serious issues with Black Sneakers anyway. They bother me to no end.  Especially when worn by a woman pushing 80, walking the beach in a bikini, and black sneakers!  Don't get me wrong, a woman pushing 80 who can still pull off a bikini AND walk up and down the beach at a quick pace - awesome. BUT can we at least consider WHITE sneakers?! 


Rebellious Sun Bather. We're not entirely sure he was 21; his cocktail of choice was in a glass bottle. Beach Cop in jeep-wheely thingy pulls up and tells him "this is a glass-free beach."  So. Most of us who may or may not have a cocktail on the beach would have beer in a CAN or have a thermos of a fruity concoction poured over ice in a plastic cup. And if for some reason any of us with cocktails on the beach in a glass container were visited by a cop, we'd apologize profusely, dump the liquid and run at full speed to the nearest trash can, receive a stern look from Beach Cop and go on with the day. Not Rebellious Sun Bather. He opted to argue with the Cop! He didn't appear inebriated. Stupid yes, but he hadn't had enough of the Glass Bottle to make him drunk. Yet he still chose to argue. and of course 20 minutes later had no Glass Bottle and One Beach Cop Ticket.. I'd say he was lucky to have escaped handcuffs? We were baffled. I mean WHAT sort of argument could he have had for the cop!?


And lastly. Green Goggle Mom. This mom, well. Bless her. She'd walk down to the beach, wearing the goggles. Not like propped up on her forehead - actually wearing them over her eyes. She'd set up their towels and chairs and kiddo, wearing the green goggles. Then play in the sand, wearing the green goggles. You know, I have no idea if she actually went in the water or wore them in the water. Because I started to get so spooked by the Green Goggles that I gave up watching her. 


So we're home. There's more stories from the weekend and from Camp Monkey. And from yours truly. lets just say I face planted in my OWN kitchen on Monday morning (while carrying tomato stakes and a watering can). And that several hours later, in true Mini Me Fashion.. Eileen face planted in her own room while cleaning it after tripping over a toy on the floor she'd yet to put away. Today in the span of 30 minutes there were three major space cadet moments (one may or may not have been that my contacts were in the wrong eyes, AGAIN). Clearly life has returned to it's normal state of "seriously erin you had to have made that up it just doesn't actually happen to people!"  yes. yes it does. 

Tuesday, May 15, 2012

The Ones You Never Forget...


(editor’s note: I wrote this piece weeks ago, with the intent of publishing it today…)


Today, I’m writing about teachers. 


I’m writing about teachers because Eileen graduates Pre-K in a in an hour or so. And in her almost six years she has been blessed with some absolutely amazing teachers. So this is for them, and it is also for MY teachers- and I am not sure I truly appreciated all they did for me until now- now that I have a child and can see so plainly what these Heroes have brought to our lives.  


Growing up, my mom told me that I would like certain teachers, and not like others. She also said there would be those I would never ever forget.  And of course, she was right. 


Second Grade = Mrs. Peterson- my first year at St. Ann Bartlett. I vividly remember wanting to wear my uniform to Mass on Sunday that summer before school started (thank GOD my mother didn’t let me).  That was also the year my parents separated. And I am fairly certain Mrs. Peterson was one of the first to know, so that she could look out for me or let my parents know if I acted out or whatever else. I don’t remember loads of stuff from being that young, but I do remember that she didn’t let me slide, or get away with things, or give me any special attention. And yet, somehow in the middle of all of that change in my life, she managed to make me feel safe and normal and OK. I kept in touch with her for a long time, and still hear bits and pieces of what she’s up to these days from other friends or from her sons. And I always smile ear to ear when I think of her. 


Fourth Grade= Ms. Davis – she was FASCINTING. She was married and ‘older’ but didn’t have kids. I was roughly nine/ten years old at the time -  I have NO IDEA how old she was - she was probably only 40!!  She was the only ‘old’ person I knew who didn’t have kids (not counting Sister Connie and Sister Marie). Her nails were always bright red, and her hair was big and blond and styled and gorgeous makeup. I swear that woman never ever wore the same outfit twice. She was like this cool city woman working with ten year olds in Bartlett. I don’t remember which subjects she taught us, I just remember the Big Persona and how fun she seemed. 


Junior High… it consisted of one hallway with four classrooms shared between all the 7th and 8th graders. We were the ‘cool kids’ because we were the oldest, oh- and we changed classes when the bell rang.  And we had lockers that we shared - only we couldn’t go to them between classes. One morning we walked into 7th Grade Home Room and had a substitute teacher – it may or may not have been Mrs. Croxdale, I can’t remember those very first days. There was another sub, and another, most of the time, it was Mrs. Croxdale.  Mrs. Self never came back. She had lung cancer, and that May, it was Mrs. Croxdale who told us one morning before a school Mass that Mrs. Self had passed away. Losing a teacher at age 13 is overwhelming. We never got to say bye. We sent cards and letters. Some went to see her in the hospital. We all went to the funeral, in our uniforms.


Let me tell you about Mrs. Croxdale. As many amazing teachers as I had, it was and is her who will forever be my most remembered teacher. She has three sons, the oldest is one Shannon’s age.  And, SHE IS SASSY. (and if she’s reading this she’s laughing her arse off at me). And, well, you all KNOW I am Sassy. I was a TOTAL brat to Mrs. Croxdale when she started subbing for Mrs. Self.  I don’t know why. I remember she’d talk to the class and I’d mouth off. Or whisper. Or whatever else a 13 year old girl is prone to do. And then one day she called me on it. We were in line in the hallway, probably lined up to go to the cafeteria. I don’t know what she said to the class, but I mouthed off. And she walked right up to me and got in my face. And said, very calmly, but in a tone that I will never forget, something along the lines of you better watch yourself young lady, because you may THINK you can out-sass me, but you are very very wrong. And if you keep this up, you will find yourself in a very unpleasant place and living a very unpleasant existance.   I remember all the kids in line just going silent. I mean CRICKETS. And then she straightened herself up, and marched back to the front of our line. 


And from that day on, she just became The Coolest Teacher Ever. She taught us Tennessee and American History and Social Studies Probably other stuff too. She started the Student Council at St. Ann (not that a group of 7th and 8th graders have all that much power – but it was still fun.  I was Vice President).  I babysat her kids. When I graduated 8th grade, she gave me a brooch/locket that I’m pretty sure I still have. She was my teacher, but became my friend too. I can’t really put a finger on it, why she was such a force in my life. But I can certainly say I am glad for it, consider myself lucky to have been one of her students. For years I made her cookies every year for her birthday. She came to me and Josh’s wedding. She was just that teacher. I like to think my Expert Sass Mouth is a credit to all her hard work. 


Certainly there were others. There was Coach Daleke – our grade school gym teacher, also my softball coach. She took me to and from virtually every practice and game we ever had- mainly because Mom was a fu;ll time student and had a job - so rides were tough to get! There was Miss Guth in High School. The English teacher, without whom I would never have read Great Expectations (to this day my favorite book). It was also Miss Guth who passed on her pet peeve of ending sentences with a preposition. And she was Yearbook Moderator – I was ultimately the co-editor of the yearbook because it was such fun. There was Senora Hopper, who taught me Spanish for four years. She was also my Senior Home Room teacher, and I distinctly remember she and I having full on conversations totally in Spanish. During Homeroom. Which tended to drive the girls who took French up the wall because they had no idea what we were saying. Oh AND she took us to Mexico. What sane woman takes twenty 16 & 17 year old girls to three cities in Mexico? That was Senora Hopper. There was Mrs. Wilkins, an absolute caricature of herself, who somehow made Trig fun. There was Mr. Savage, who taught us Latin, and on the very first day of our Freshman year, he laid on the desk and pretended to be Roman Royalty being fed grapes. I can’t even make that up. There was Mrs. Davis, who taught us Religion and History and Drama. And maybe Chorus? The woman LIVED for her European History Class. I think if she could have had it her way, we would have spent our entire high school careers studying the Dark Ages and Renaissance. But her love of that period was contagious and to this day I still like it. 


So today, as Eileen gets ready to graduate, I think of the teachers she’s had. Miss Margaret and Miss NaeNae, who made it OK for me to leave my baby girl with them every morning. I didn’t doubt for a minute they took as good a care of her as I ever could. There is Miss Denae. She was Eileen’s teacher and babysitter for a couple of years. Eileen adores her. Drawings still hang on my kitchen door that Eileen and Miss Denae did together. Miss Tina- who for some unknown reason Eileen did NOT like at first- and soon enough it was Eileen pitching a fit when she had to leave Miss Tina’s class. Miss Kelley was Eileen’s teacher when Josh and I separated; Miss Kelley’s girls had been the same age as Eileen when SHE and her husband had separated. Miss Kelley took as much care of me as she did Eileen. She knew what to expect and had words and advice for how to make it OK. It was Miss Kelley who texted me “we need brownies!” when Eileen FINALLY FINALLY decided to use the potty at age FOUR. There is Miss Amber and Miss Megan and Mr. Gio and Mr. Sean and Miss Rachel. There is Miss Janet and Miss Tara who run the school, and know every child by name.


And. There is Miss Carrie. I don’t know where to begin with doing Miss Carrie justice. I’m not sure my words can make it clear to you what a powerful woman she is.  I would be willing to bet that Miss Carrie will be for Eileen what Mrs. Croxdale became for me. Miss Carrie is a Saint, she is a Force. I have never seen someone so amazing with Children. She is firm and stern. She runs her classroom like a drill sergeant. There are rules and when she speaks, the kids LISTEN. She speaks to the children like adults, and expects – and gets - good behavior and respect. And. The kids love her


See, we got lucky. A variety of circumstances led to Eileen having Miss Carrie as a teacher from September 2010 until now… almost a full two years with Miss Carrie.  She has taught Eileen to read and write. My little Mini is starting Kindergarten already knowing addition and subtraction.  She has taught Eileen how to be brave and be a big girl and make smart choices. She’s also taught Eileen how to have fun and be silly. I can’t tell you how many times I have walked into that classroom to find the music blaring and Miss Carrie smack in the middle of a pack of kids dancing her heart out, while somehow tricking them into cleaning up the classroom. How can you not just grin when reading that? Imagine seeing that on a daily basis, and loving this woman who so loves your kid? 


Miss Carrie schooled us too. In Pre-K1, Eileen had homework. Easy worksheets, three a week, with due dates. Most people would react with WHY DOES A 4 YEAR OLD HAVE HOMEWORK? My answer – DUH people. It is not for the child. It’s for the parent. To get US ready for ‘real school.’ To get US ready for homework assignments and helping our children and not turning it in late. In Miss Carrie’s class, if it was late, no one got in trouble. But in ‘real school’ if homework is late, it won’t be the same. 


Miss Carrie is that teacher who makes learning fun. Miss Carrie is that teacher who loves every minute of what she does, and probably remembers just about every student she’s ever had. Miss Carrie is one with whom I very much hope I am able to stay in touch with for years and years to come. And I hope that Eileen will be able to do the same. 


I am sure Eileen will have many other teachers in her life who she’ll remember as I have remembered so many of mine. I’m not sure any of the teachers in her future will have the impact and influence that those from MStar have had, but then again none of her future teachers will have been with her from 15weeks old to almost six years old. Those are some pretty major years. I’m not sure how many of her MStar teachers Eileen will remember. But I will, and I’ll make sure she reads this post in years to come. 
Eileen graduates tonight. 


All I have left to say to Miss Carrie, to Mrs. Croxdale, and all of the other teachers mentioned here, is 
THANK YOU.  

Monday, May 14, 2012

Say Cheese.

My mom always took loads of pictures, and she still does. 


There's no doubt that trait was passed on to me. And I'm so very glad. 


Tomorrow, Eileen will graduate from MStar... the school she has attended since she was 15 weeks old. Her entire life so far has been spent there. Her teachers not only taught her  - they taught me as well. 




I will never forget within her FIRST week there, Miss Margaret telling me that Eileen was teething. And I was floored. I seriously would have never figured that out. (ok, well i guess eventually the little white things in her gums would have clued me in...). And then around the time she was six months old, Miss NaeNae telling us that we could have her 'practice' sitting up by propping her against things (OK - wait - IS it six months when they start to sit? I honestly don't remember). Again, I was floored.  Who knew one could be in training, for SITTING?!


So, speaking of forgetting things.. that is another reason I am so very glad to have endless photographs. I honestly do not remember the baby in these photos. I mean, I don't remember Eileen looking like this. This roly poly baby who has endless hilarious expressions just for the lens. If it weren't for these pictures I'm not sure what I would and would not remember. 


And it's no wonder that these days, I can hardly get her to actually smile a good smile - because the kid has been smiling at the camera in her face since Day One. Literally. 


(yeah - someday she'll want to throttle me for this potty shot...)


The first photo in this post.. that was Eileen at roughly 24hours old. Smiling - literally smiling - at the camera. 
I logged into Shutterfly to track down some of these - and I have well over 500 albums there. FIVE HUNDRED. Some of which were pre-Eileen, but most certainly the bulk of which ARE Eileen. 


(hey now. don't anyone go telling the folks at shutterfly about me. they'll suspend my account or something for breaking the internet).


So. Tomorrow she graduates. And maybe it hasn't hit me. Maybe it's because now that Edie is around, there's still many more years at MStar, and many more milestones to get to see again. And maybe its because of all the fun I know awaits Eileen - and me- as she starts 'real school.'


(of course anyone who knows anything about MStar doesn't doubt for one minute that it is nothing short of a 'real school....')


Funny tho.. because as I sit here and mention the part about so many fun things to come.. I realize how very fast the past (almost) six years have flown by. 


And I think of Court, who will graduate HighSchool in five days. And I think of how when I met Court three years ago, she  was this little girl not yet fifteen. Braces and figuring out high school. And how her Mom (who happens to be one of my best friends) would always talk about how very much Eileen reminded her of Court at 'that age.'  


And I think of Court, and the recent pictures of late of her at football games, and winter formals, heading to prom and Senior Functions. She's gorgeous and happy and smiling, surrounded by her friends. 


<--  And then I look at this photo. Of Eileen and her buddies last week. And it shocks me, strikes me- look at them. They're five going on seventeen. Posing and smiling and hugging and hamming it up for the camera. Gorgeous and happy and smiling, surrounded by friends. Just like Court. 


And that part, 'just like Court' - that really drives it home. At least for me. Just how much Eileen does have ahead of her, and how insanely fast it will go. 


I like to think that for the most part, I do live in the moment. Events like having lived in NYC before, during and after 9/11. Josh and I (and Sarah and Bill) sharing custody of Eileen - which in the end has me so much more 'there' with her when she's home. Having people like Sarah in my life who have survived unfathomable loss keeps perspective in the front of my mind (well, most days anyway). 


Whatever the reasons are that I manage to remember to live in the moment, while they brought pain, in the end they've brought lessons.  And while down the road I may FORGET the moments in which I lived, I will have pictures. I will have endless pictures to remind me of this insane little girl who I love beyond words. And for that I will always be thankful. 


Nana Janet may have driven us batty with the camera when we were kids, as I am sure I do now with Eileen.. but if Nana Janet taught us nothing else (HAHAHAHA.. riiight).. she taught us to smile and say cheese.  Not sure there's any better lesson than that. 


So, tomorrow we'll have PreK Graduation. The kids will sing off key and march across the stage in mini caps and gowns. The parents will take endless pictures and sit in mini-people chairs with our knees in our noses. And we'll laugh and smile and try to pretend we're not crying. And we'll try to pretend we're not scared to death about how to handle KINDERGARTEN. And we'll have our smartphones and we'll take loads of photos and bombard you all on facebook as we post like mad. 


And someone will probably tease me about my paparazzi tendencies. And I will say "Thank You!"


(Scroll down for a few more photos.. )