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After dropping off the cookies at my son's school yesterday I had a little less than two hours to go a buy some baseball pants for tonight's game. In most areas you would say that's not problem but where we live it takes forty five minutes to get to the closest super store, thirty if you speed. And yes, I was speeding like I was in the Indy 500. I got to the store in plenty of time and ran straight for the baseball pants, grabed the ones I needed and checked right out. When I got to the car I realized that me being the idiot that I can be, grabbed the wrong color. So I flew back in and had to wait in the customer service lin for like 20 minutes just to be told that from now on for an exchange, I don't have to stand in line. I wanted to scream "thank you for having me wait behinfd these twenty people just to tell me this," but I didn't.
So I flew back to his school in plenty of time, even enough time to go get my hair cut.
We went home for forty five minutes. I fixed him a diner of low fat refried beans, mozzerella, and baked totilla chips, yum yum. Then we rushed out the door for our busy night of karate and baseball. Little did I know...
I'm IRISH and claim every little drop of it no matter how small the amount is. My St. Paddy's Day has been interesting but what day is not. It started out with us running late for school as usual but today we actually made it on time. On the way to drop my son off at his school he told me that he told his teacher that I make the best green cookies and that he was sure that I would make some. So I rushed home and made 4 dozen four leaf clover cookies from scratch without a cookie cutter. While I did this I also made a handout for a project they are doing next Friday. I finaly got them by the school about noon. He asked how I got them there so quickly, his teacher said I was a super mom and he agreed. More of this adventure tomorrow I'm watching karate.
Out of my group of close net girlfriends I am the only single one yet they all ask me for marriage advice. I have never been married and probably never will and I am also the youngest in our lovely group. I love my girls but at times I want to scream "wake up, you're not perfect and your husband is not perfect. If you didn't know this when you married him then you should not have married him!" No man is perfect but they chose their beds now they have to lie in them preferably with their husbands. We are all screwed up in one way or another. I use to want to get married but hanging out with my girls really makes me question this. Why can't people commit any more?
Once again a busy weekend that was way to short. Friday started with picking up my sweet boy from school and then making a home made bbq pizza (which the boy would not eat). While creating this wonderful dinner for my child, I sliced deep into my finger. Tried to get it to clott with paper towels, but went right through four of them when wrapped around my finger. I tried this process once again but the same thing happened. Finally, I said forget about it and wrapped it wit a few more paper towels and just taped up the dang thing.
Once fed and clothed for baseball, we headed for the field. I had a finger that was twice the size of my others and it just would not fit into my glove. Ended up ripping of the paper towels and finally being able to put a band aid on the thing. We had a great practice and even though we were late we still got about an hour in. We were in a hot sweaty mess when we got home but it sure did feel good.
Saturday, we had to get new shoes. Our old ones are now for the mud race coming up. Called my neighbor on the way to the shoe store and told her we were going to go to the movies. I was onder the impression from my son, that they wanted to meet us at the theater. No, she wanted me to take their daughter. So they met me at the theater and droped her off and we watched the movie. This is my fututre daughter in law, I am so sure of this it scares me. One reason is because I don't want it, so there for it must be. The other reason is because while I sat in that theater I watched her open my son's straw and put it in his drink for him, offer to open up his cand, and whisper in his ear. She was catering to him and he is eight, he can do those things on his own! Saturday night we stayed up late watching t.v. and finally went to bed about ten
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So I will admit it, I am a horder a.k.a a pack rat. I hate cleaning and have poems and drawing that I did in high school. I am very sentimental but if you ask me where my precious keepsakes are I probably could not tell you. I loose things on a daily basis and I alos forget where I put my head half of the time. This being said, yesterday at karate a girlfriend of mine said she was reading her friend's blog about how she is getting rid of forty bags of trash in forty days. Well I am taking on this challenge as well and am hoping to declutter my life a little. I think I am going to dy fifty bag in fifth days though. I just think it sounds better. So today I cleared out one bag of trash from my car and took four bags of clothes to a thrift store. After clearing out five bags already, Icon't believe fifty bags will be that hard for me. So here is to decluttering, now all I have is forty-five bags to go!
Last night I was crowned assistant coach for my son's baseball team. First off I am sore as all get out BUT I've been saying I need to get in shape and since my weightwatchers calculator is no longer broken, it's time I get back on track. But how am I going to get these little girls to be able to throw further than two feet in front of them? Not only are my girls only throwing a few feet but it is usually in the opposite direction. Also half my team is striking out. I know I sound harsh but in my small town, sports are a big deal. I hate to tell the coach, but right now we are going to get killed.
I am studying drills and hints on coaching sites that I didn't even know existed and I might be holding a practice next Thursday all by myself. Yes, I am scared to say the least but I see this as a stepping stone into the world of teaching (which is what I am trying to brake into). It's a challenge for me and don't we all need to be challenged? Well I am going to get back to studying but if you have hints or tips please, please, please let me know.
So yesterday I finished up a four night stretch. Yay. It's hard being a single parent who works twelve hour night shifts. It was the first time I had ever done four in a row and hopefully the last. I saw my son maybe a total of four hours all weekned. The one night I was getting off early so I could get some extra rest, I fell and banged up my knee. I ended up having to go to the E.R. and spending about three hours there. That night ended up not being to short. It was an interesting weekend to say the least. Last night was a good night though. I helped my son's coach out on the field and am now trying to learn how to teach little girls how to aim and throw a baseball, who knew it was so hard. Life is an adventure and I would like to meet whoever said that being a parent is boring.
Lilly was strong in one aspect of our life, she was smart as hell and she would do anything to get out of the situation that we were put in. When Lilly became thirteen, our mother would pimp her out when she was truly hit up for cash. I could always see the tears in our mother's eyes when she would shove a pill in Lilly's mouth or booze down her throat then hand her over to whatever dirty, nasty, scumball had paid for her next fix. Mom would always give herself first in hopes that would be enough but sometimes the buckets of filth would be enticed by the sweet smell of an unexperienced child. I had always taken over for Lilly at the first sign of her blacking out. I would leave my mark on these fools if they tried to do more than was promised to them. There had been quite a few to leave with less than they came with endowment wise.
During high school, Lilly had turned tricks on her own to bring in money for college. She knew that the life our mother chose for her was not one she desired. This life made her sick and although she did turn to alcohol she refused to do anything harder. The boys would line up for Lilly at parties, call her at all hours of the night for random hook ups, and even would pay her for quickies in the boys' bathroom stalls. She had fathers getting her number from thier sons and calling her to see if there was a special deal for father and son. By the time senior year rolled around Lilly had a bank account with 350,000 dollars in it and almost 425,000 by that summer. She had dreams of health science and becoming a person that could help girls just like herself, maybe finding a place in social work or the medical field. She got accepted into Washington University but would never graduate...
In Florida there is being a bill presented about parents recieving report cards on how they are doing as a parent and I believe Georgia is doing the same. The report card grades on things like is your child getting enough sleep, is your child hungary in the morning, does your child have their homework completed on time, and stuff like that. I'm in favor of these report cards because, yes our teachers are teachers for a reason, but we are supposed to be a team. My child is my resposibility first and foremost and I take great pride in that. So I say teachers bring it because the only parents I can see having a problem with this are those that are not truly being a parent.
I didn't know I could lose her. Here she had been a part of me since the first day, since I first saw the light. She was always so weak, I never understood how she stayed in control. Here I am a thousand men stronger and yet the weakling kept me out. I can still not wrap my brain around it. I guess that's in the past now so it doesn't really matter anymore.
I guess I should start in the beginning, yet that seems like such a long time ago and such a waste of my breath, maybe I should just start in the middle...
I am Lanah McGee and what I am, I am not aware of yet. I live in the body of Lilly McGee. I believe she was my twin but when I did not make it out of the womb, my spirit made it out through her body. She use to talk to me as a child, like I was her imaginary friend but I was no where to be found in her imagination because I was real. At night when she would sleep I would live, it was my time to be
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Comment by Anonymous
on Tales of Ireland
Everyday Adventures in Parenting
Alter Ego