Joy

There are so many ways and reasons to get aggravated with this world and everything in it. I have identified a great many of those ways and reasons. Joyful events are a welcome diversion, and I try not to take them for granted.

My son provides me with nearly all of my joyful events. He doesn't even have to make an effort, because his existence is really all it takes. There are some highlights, though, that I think about when I'm having a really bad day.

I love his laugh. That sweet, infectious laugh that's often accompanied by a high-pitched squeal. It's so pure and happy. Watching him laugh is even better, because he's got these great dimples and his eyes sparkle. I fall in love with him all over again.

One of my favorite joys happened just this past weekend. We were putting him to bed, and we've been trying hard to get him to tell us goodnight. Sometimes he'll do it, and sometimes he just refuses. Saturday night, he looked up at us as he snuggled under the covers and said, "Goodnight, Mommy. Goodnight, Daddy. I love you." My heart melted. You never want to admit it to your kids, but it's times like these that they could ask for the moon and you wouldn't say no for anything. His speech was delayed due to his heart surgery and frequent ear infections that prevented him from hearing speech normally. It's slow progress, but we work with him, and he's doing better every day. I keep hearing him say those words, and it's better than chocolate. Now, anybody that knows me knows this is monumental. Because I would have sworn that such a thing wasn't possible. My husband has certainly never achieved this status, bless his heart!

The other great joy that Brock gives me is when I come in the door from work. Now, everybody talks about that unconditional love a dog gives you. How they can meet you at the door with tail wagging and just be so happy to see you, even if you only left 5 minutes ago. Well, that doesn't hold a candle to what I get from him. It doesn't matter what he's doing or holding, when he sees me, it's dropped and forgotten. He goes into a full-on run, exclaiming, "Mommy! Mommy!" over and over again until he actually reaches me. At that point, he throws himself against me and holds on for dear life. If I pick him up, he squeezes me and kisses me. I swear, heaven must feel something like this. The only thing better than that is that it happens again the very next time I walk in.

I also love it when he takes my hand. He will do this when he wants me to come play with him, or when he wants me to go into another room. The feel of his hand in mine is just the best.

I've done something from the time he was born. I like to stroke his cheek. At first, it was with just one finger, but now he's big enough that I can use my hand. The coolest part about it...he does it back to me. Just the same way. He looks into my eyes and is just so gentle. I think to myself that he clearly feels the same way I do about this gesture. He gives back all the love that I give him every time I do it.

I guess you can tell that I really love my son. It's impossible to describe it to anyone that doesn't have children. It's like when the Grinch's heart grew. Mine just expanded the day I found out I was going to have him, and it hasn't stopped growing since. I love him unconditionally and completely. And everyone keeps telling me to remember these moments when he is a teenager. Which is one of the reasons that I'm writing it now. Because I don't ever want to forget this kind of joy.

A Married Couple's Guide to Shopping

This is not your typical discourse on shopping. Because my husband and I are exactly the opposite of the stereotype. Which is what makes it interesting blog material, right?

So, my husband likes to shop. I hate it. That's putting it mildly. It would be better to say that I loathe it. I'm not sure why. I hate trying on things, especially when they don't fit because I feel like I wasted my time and messed up my hair for nothing. I have never been really trendy, so the styles in the windows really don't get my attention. It just doesn't appeal to me. Same thing with grocery shopping. I hate that because you have to load up the cart, then you have to unload it at checkout. Then you have to haul it all home and put it away. Then...you have to cook it. And then you have to do it all over again.

I have a friend that has great taste in clothes. When I need to go shopping, I call her up. I tell her what I need and how much I want to spend. We go out, and she starts handing me things. She knows what size I wear, and she has a really great eye and knows what looks good on me. She's also good at mixing and matching, and wardrobe building. I love her. I don't even have to think about it. It doesn't take much time. She likes doing it. What more could you ask for?

They built Lowe's and The Home Depot for my husband. Trust me on this. Now, where we live, both of these stores happen to be right across the street from each other. The man could spend days in one store or the other, but having them in such close proximity creates a whole other dilemma. Because now he has to compare prices. So, he goes to one store and shops for whatever he's interested in. Then, he leaves and goes across the street to see if they might have it cheaper. If they don't, and if they won't beat the price of the other store, then he gets back in the car to go to the first place and buy the item. Add in the time it takes to browse the aisles of both stores, and you pretty much waste an entire day. Often, he will ask me to accompany him on such adventures. This is a huge mistake. I don't have the patience for such excursions. Remember my previous post about when momma ain't happy ain't nobody happy? Exactly.

He likes to chat with the salespeople. He does learn a lot from them. From time to time, he'll get extra discounts by being friendly with them. That's very shrewd. What I have learned, though, is that any project he attempts to do will take at least twice as long as he estimates it will take for reasons just such as this. So, my business-oriented mind generates that you lose any savings you gain at the store in the time that you spend. It's about efficiency and productivity.

So, you see, we are not your typical married couple. He doesn't drive me to the mall and wait in the car while I browse for hours on end. I can't trust him to go out to buy a couple of items and be back before the sun sets. Which begs the question...why in the world do opposites attract? It leads to a lot of aggravation!

Pardon me

I have a cold. It is damn near impossible to remain lady-like when your nose is constantly running. I think about Scarlett O'Hara, and how glad I am that I don't have to carry around the hanky AND the parasol!

So, missing work is not an option. Yeah, I know I'm sharing the germs, but I've already got it, so what do I care? Yeah, I know I'm a nurse and that last sentence was just wrong, but hey, I don't feel good and it's the truth. So there. I'm not taking care of patients, and I'm not at the hospital. No public health crisis will result from me going to work with the sniffles. Besides, I use gallons of that hand sanitizer...I wash my hands all the time as if I'm scrubbing in to surgery. I won't touch bathroom door handles or elevator buttons with my fingertips, and I never drink from a public water fountain. I think it's completely fair that I should be ticked off that after taking all those precautions, I still get sick!

Last night, I went home from work and I just felt miserable. I do not like to take medications of any kind, because I don't like experiencing side effects. And for some reason, I seem to be hypersensitive to nearly everything. So, whenever I need an anesthetic, everybody refuses to believe me when I tell them it doesn't take much to put me under. But, really, how many people out there would even tell you that? Last night, I had nothing in the house except NyQuil, my husband's cold medicine. I could've sent him out for something else, but I didn't feel good enough to supervise my son while he went shopping. Because the man can't just go and pick up something and come right back. Nope. A trip like that would take him at least an hour. He likes to look around. I know...most men aren't like that. And most women aren't like me...I hate to shop! But that's another blog...

So, I take the NyQuil at his urging. Because he feels sorry for me. I think there must've been something on tv he wanted to watch. I took it right before dinner. By 8:15, I was sound asleep in an upright position on the sofa! With my son running around like a little maniac. I kept trying to open my eyes, and they felt like lead. So, my loving husband helped me up the stairs and put me to bed. I can imagine him on the other side of the bedroom door, dancing a jig. He put our son to bed. He walked our dogs. He cleaned up the dinner dishes. Maybe I'll start taking NyQuil every night....

I woke up this morning, and it was like peering through dense fog. I couldn't focus my eyes and I felt light-headed. Great. A hangover from the medicine. It is afternoon as I sit here and type this, and it's only the last hour or so that I've finally started to feel lucid again. My nose, however, has been active all day. Lucky me. So the challenge is to stay all sweet and polite while feeling like I've been hit by a truck. I catch myself saying "pardon me" constantly during times like this. Pardon me that I look like a mess and feel even worse than that. Pardon me that I can't seem to control this thing on my face. Pardon me that you can't understand much of what I'm saying. Pardon me that my throat feels really sore and scratchy and my voice sounds like a teenage boy's.

Pardon me that in only a matter of days, my son, my husband, or both of them will be stricken with this and then I will have to take care of them whether I'm feeling better by then or not. Yes, I'm bitter about that. When I'm sick, I just want to be left alone. They need loads of attention. I don't get that. Oh, but pardon me....

A Woman's Power

You know that saying "If Momma ain't happy, ain't nobody happy?" Well, I think about that one a lot. There really is so much truth to that statement. Traditionally, Southern women have been brought up to be the backbone of their family. The rock. The moral compass. The glue. They (or should I say we?) do not take this responsibility lightly.

My grandma had it. She was the matriarch. Everything truly revolved around her, and not in a bad way. Everyone just gravitated toward her. She took our big, noisy family and managed to keep us all together for every single holiday, and all getting along with each other. But let her get disappointed or angry, and well, it was worse than a hellfire-and-brimstone sermon at a tent revival! And everybody in the line of fire could do nothing but hang their heads and wait for it to pass. At the other end of the spectrum, if you made her proud or happy you were in high cotton. Because it was hugs, love, and kisses for you, along with plenty of bragging to everyone around her until your pendulum swung the other way! Rarely was there any middle ground with her. She did not view life in shades of gray.

I love that women have this kind of power. Our men want to please us. They do not want to incur our wrath. Our children don't want to hear that "momma" voice or see the disappointment in our faces. Why? Is it because we're so evil they're afraid of us? Sweet, soft, gentle ladies that we are? Why, how in the world could anybody think that? ;-)

Not every woman has it, but a lot of us do. The people we love are drawn to us like gnats to a porch light. We shine brightly as the center of our universe. And if that light goes out, it gets missed. Sorely. I think it's because we love others with everything we've got. We take care of them and nurture them. It means more to them than we even realize. I truly think that's why they're so affected by our happiness or, particularly, our lack of it.

Of course, there are some that might realize this power and use it to their advantage to get what they want. However, a real southern lady would never admit to doing so. That just goes against the code. No matter how cunning you might be, it's treason to let on. Because that would jeopardize the position of the sisterhood. And who wants to incur the wrath of the group as a whole?!

Send in the Clown

Before I get into this....it was 106 degrees here today! And still 100 degrees at 9pm. This is beyond ridiculous. Our county fair started today...and one person has already died out there from the heat. Why they want to have a county fair in August is beyond me, anyhow, but this year? I think it's safe to say I'm not going! Somebody send some rain....please!!

So, I went to pick up my son at school. He always is so excited when I walk in and comes running screeching "Mommy!" I love hearing that. It's so much fun to hear him talking with his sweet little boy voice. His vocabulary seems to grow by leaps and bounds every day.

Today, I heard the words that I've been dreading. After I hugged him, Brock looks up at me and says, "I want McDonald's." I was just astounded. Where did that come from? It didn't come from me or his dad. Because we've got this thing about not giving him fast food. And my husband hates McDonald's. Refuses to eat there. I love their fries. They gave me my first job. I have to say that either fast food isn't as good as it used to be, or my tastes have changed. Because I remember all of it tasting much better than it does now.

So how is it that a kid that isn't accustomed to eating at the golden arches could ask to go there? I have a theory. This kid loves tv. And McDonald's does a lot of advertising. With music...which he also loves. And they've had happy meal day a couple of times at his school, which he participated in. I think he's the only kid in the world that doesn't like chicken nuggets. But he loves fries of all kinds. His school is close to Burger King, so I hit their drive-thru and got him a kid's meal. He devoured all the fries, and then nibbled at the cheeseburger, eating mostly cheese and bread. I dealt with the guilt of being a bad mom for caving in to him, depriving him of a really nutritious meal. One of those things that we'll keep just between us, and not tell his dad.

Yes, I'm a sucker when it comes to my son, and he's a momma's boy. And if a clown with big red hair gets his attention, then it's alright with me.

Hot! Hot! Hot!

It was 104 degrees here today. It's been 99 or higher here for the last week and a half. No rain in sight. It was 85 degrees at 7am this morning. Get the picture? It's freakin' hot around here! It hasn't been like this in a long time. And I hope it's a really long time before it does it again.

This is why we like iced tea and lemonade in the south. I love ice. Lots of ice in everything I drink. In Europe, they rarely use ice in their drinks. What's up with that? Just holding an ice cold drink in your hand will help you cool off a bit. Even better, you burn off a couple of extra calories as your body works to bring that drink's temperature up to your body temperature. That's my kind of workout!

Come to think of it, those same Europeans think it's okay for a woman not to shave under her arms; and they don't all bathe every day, either. Ewww!

I should stop. That is just the antithesis of genteel. You'll think I'm not a lady if I keep this up. And that would simply be a tragedy. It's the running joke that in the south we justify gossiping about other people by blessing their hearts. As if it's going to wipe that slate clean and make every ugly thing you just said sweet as honey. An example...."That is such a pretty sundress she's wearing. It's too bad she has armpit hair that's long enough to braid! Bless her heart."

Alright, so let me see if I can salvage any vestige of class here. I was talking about the heat before I got off on that tangent. I think whoever invented air conditioning should be granted sainthood. Because people get really cranky when they're hot and uncomfortable. And I sleep so good when it's nice and cool. And my new office is cool...and there is no thermostat, but it's okay. Because it's just the way I like it. I stay more alert when the air is cooler, which usually leads me to be more productive.

Heat is bad for so many reasons. It zaps your energy. You get dehydrated. Your hair just lays down and dies...or frizzes up with no hope of regaining control. Makeup winds up somewhere on your neck instead of where you applied it. And then you either look like you just got out of the shower, or like you need to go take one. Bad either way. Your clothes stick to you. You are acutely aware of the sweat rolling off of you, and how pathetic you will look in no time flat, if you haven't gotten there already. We've got enough to worry about without adding this to the day!

Just give me a mint julep and an air conditioner. Before I come down with the vapors!

Who is Fiona?

Of course Fiona isn't my real name. I chose it because of the character in Shrek. I identify with her. The girl that wanted to be a beautiful princess but turned out to be an ogre.

So here are a few tidbits about me in case you're wondering...not sure why I'm doing this because no one is visiting this blog. Maybe that's why....

I'm so completely insecure. But I'm very adept at hiding it.

I love my work...and I know I'm good at it. I can't honestly say that about any other aspect of my life.

I'm lonely most of the time.

I love to make other people smile...and a good laugh is even better.

I like taking care of other people a lot.

My son is the most precious thing in my life. Hands down. I look at him and just can't believe I had any part in creating him. He's amazing.

I hate mirrors. Go out of my way not to look into them.

I like to make others feel special.

I secretly crave for someone to make me feel special.

I think everyone is beautiful when they smile.

I'm an emotional eater. Every excuse ever created to eat...I'm all about it.

I wish just once I could put something on...and feel and look sensational in it.

I've got really thick hair...but I can't seem to find a great cut to save my life.

I can count on one hand the number of times I've ever really felt sexy in my life. And I want to giggle at the thought right now. It seems like such an oxymoron to put me and sexy in the same sentence.

I love chocolate. Love doesn't begin to describe it, but they haven't come up with the proper word yet.

I adore music. All kinds. I can just feel the notes in my soul.

I regret not travelling when I had an opportunity. There's so much I'd love to see. Which helps explain my insane fascination with the travel channel.

I can't just hear a little bit about something that interests me and let it go. No. I have to Google it and find out every minute detail until I have exhausted myself, and only then am I satisfied. Whoever invented the news channels should be shot for what they did to me. Same for Al Gore, inventor of the internet. Yeah, right.

Okay, so that's some kind of personal disclosure record. I've never talked so much about myself in one place. If you read it to the end....well, you're either really bored or you're looking for blackmail material.

Because I'm just the goofy ogre. No princess here.