The Numbers Add Up

Last Monday morning Emily asked me to dig their old soccer jerseys out so that she and Anna could wear them to school.

Baby A was not down with that plan.

I know this because I am completely in tune with my children's dreams and desires.

Also, Anna came screeching out of the bedroom sobbing about something something Emily something something PINCHED ME something something BUT I DON'T WANT TO.

Something.

See? Totally in the tune.

Thankfully, I have an eight year old who is nosy in the know. She declared that Emily did indeed pinch Anna on the arm because she really wanted her to wear her soccer jersey to school.

EMILY.

COME HERE.

Did you pinch your sister?

No.

Are you telling the truth?

No.

(Sigh.)

Darlin, you know that you need to use words when you want something. You aren't the boss of Anna and if she doesn't want to match you, she doesn't have to.  Also, you always need to tell mommy the truth, even when you think it's bad news. You're going to lose your tv privileges for two days for lying. And for the love, STOP PINCHING PEOPLE. 

I felt pretty good about my parenting prowess until she turned and proceeded to try to talk Anna into wearing the jersey.

Again.

Right in front of me.

After she lost her television.

(Which is pretty serious around here. Being cable free, she had just lost American Idol.)

(No DVR y'all.)

(I heart Harry.)

(That has zero to do with this story.)

And this time, she's in tears and has entered the land of indistinguishable words.

Something, something, why won't she help me, something, something, I just want to win the prize for my class....

Again, Lainey the Informed steps in to clarify things for me. They were encouraged to wear numbered sports jerseys all week. Each class would add up the digits and the class with the largest total number would win a little prize. A little community fun with sneaky math.

Nice move, teachers.

And my Emily just wanted to win.

She gets that from her Dad.

So I pulled my girl in for a hug and blessed her with my awesome wisdom.

Baby, if you had simply used your words from the beginning and explained why this was such a big deal to you, maybe Anna would have complied. And maybe she wouldn't have, but at least you wouldn't have lashed out at her and gotten in trouble as a result. I understand you're trying to help your class, but you have all week to do it.  Let's please remember to use our words, it's so important, okay?

Okay, mom. I'm sorry.

And then she turned and walked away.

In her obnoxiously yellow soccer jersey.

Big number zero.

ZERO.

I just let her teacher deal with that one.

For All the Dragon Slaying Mamas

You're gonna need a tissue. Or seven(teen).



Happy Mother's Day.



You are all doing an amazing job.

The Eye Has It

I've heard it said that bad things happen in threes. And although I've never met the originator of this statement, I've found it's usually true.

Saturday afternoon when I leaned over to toss something into a waste basket I received a small puncture wound to the forehead (and my pride) from a wire shelf in the doorless bathroom. It holds ducks.

Thing #1.

Late that night I was filling baskets and plastic eggs while listening to The West Wing on Netflix and keeping an eye on Andy's game on the laptop. By 12:30 I had nearly finished, the boys had won in extra innings with an inside the park grand slam, and Jed Bartlett was my hero once more. That's when I noticed I seemed to have something stuck in my bottom tooth. Which turned out to be a piece of my slightly chipped chomper. DANG CADBURY MINIS, YOU ARE DEAD TO ME.

Thing #2.

Easter morning arrived and we woke up thankful for the risen Saviour. And also for fresh crayons, fairy wands and flashing toothbrushes. I hopped in the shower after breakfast where I dropped the shaving cream on my foot. It still hurts.

Thing #3.

Right after the shower injury I had the fleeting thought of

Well, at least that's done.

Not so fast there, sister.

Because after getting everyone else bathed and raring to go, I casually strolled into the kitchen to get Easter lunch started. I had a solid two hours to make au gratin potatoes, green beans and get the ham on a platter. The other baseball gals that were coming were bringing the rest. No problemo.

And then I opened the ham.

Y'all, it was staring at me. At least I think it was. I wasn't really sure what was happening with this particular piece of pork so I took a picture and texted to some of my crew back home with the words

You all, my ham has an eye ball. This is not okay. At all. Send help.

At first there was banter about what the creepy object in the meat was. My friend Brandie's husband thought it might be an ovary. So that was good news. Seeing as I had touched it.  But I really just needed a consensus as to whether or not I could serve the ham. To my company. That was arriving in two hours.

The meat looks fine. It smells fine. It's just staring at me. Or ovulating. It could go either way at this point. Ain't nobody got time for this!

I knew when four different suggestions of four other things to eat (KFC, Papa John's, Walmart fried chicken and White Castle) came flying over the group text, that was a big fat no in regards to my 10 pound porker.

So I rounded up the children, told them we had a meat emergency and they calmly loaded themselves into the van. Without even flinching.

Either I'm more dramatic than I realized or they are shocked by nothing when it comes to my kitchen capers.

Don't answer that.

Thanks to the fine southern people here in Alabama, nothing was open. Because they were all in the house of the Lord. Or home eating blind hams. Which is what I was in desperate need of.

Stat.

On my third try I found something that was open (thank you, Walmart Neighborhood Market) and purchased a replacement.

With no time to spare.

Now I am back home, not yet dressed, having never dried my hair and nothing is cooked.

To be clear, I had clothes on.

But I think you knew that.

Anyway, chopping potatoes, grating cheese and all manner of kitchen stuff was going down in a flurry when Lainey reminded me I hadn't hidden the eggs for the hunt yet.

I considered this issue for about 4 seconds and said

Guess what? YOU GET TO HIDE THEM THIS YEAR!

My whole parenting philosophy is to ensure that each precious child gets to live in a magic bubble full of whimsy and mystery for as long as possible.

Hey Lainey! Time's up, sister!

Turns out, my number is four, because the day was lovely. The girls were THRILLED to hide the eggs (Lainey recruited her sisters, she has serious leadership skills) and we had a great afternoon with some baseball friends.

After we finish some school work, the girls and I are headed back to Super Target to return my Easter ham.

I need to go anyway. 

You know, to get Neosporin, some Sensodyne and a pair of crutches. 


__________________________________________________________________

Okay, you had to know this was coming. I'm going to post a picture now. 

You've been warned.

It's almost too late to look back.....

Here it comes........

Heaven help me. It's just as disturbing now as it was yesterday.

Because Reading is Better Than Cleaning

 In early January Buzzfeed posted an article titled 16 Books To Read Before They Hit Theaters This Year. I glanced through the list and thought

well now, here's something I need to do. You know to stay up to date with things. Because I am all about being trendy and keeping up with the young people.

And also, what with all the reading I have to do, I simply don't have much spare time for household chores.

I mean, I feed the kids and make sure they're bathed.

At least once a week.

(The bathing. Not the feeding. That happens more often. Slightly.)

Sacrifices have to be made in order to strive for greatness.

I think Einstein said that.

So far I have read six of the sixteen books. I said a big no thanks to one of them and I've got one on the maybe list. Which leaves me with eight. I know because I had to count counted twice.

And now a little breakdown:

(Not to be confused with break dancing)

(Because, no)

The NO list:
  The Vampire Diaries.
  Mama doesn't do vampires. I just don't. So don't come at me with all your but twilight is a love story nonsense. I will close my eyes, cover my ears and sing Mmmmbop until you stop. And nobody wants that. Not even the Hanson brothers.

The MAYBE list:
 Winter's Tale by Mark Helprin

I had this in my possession from the library a few months back and my first thought was

whoa, that's heavy.

Not like heavy, deep but like I could potentially develop carpal tunnel.  Many pages of tiny words. Then I heard some not great things about the movie (it had just come out) and I thought about our health insurance deductible which led me to return it to the library without reading the first word.

I pride myself on my thoroughness.

But I may revisit it later.

After I do some push ups.

The already read list:

1) Gone Girl: A Novel by Gillian Flynn
     You all, this story just doesn't stop. It opens with the swoony love story of Nick and Amy Dunne. Real life drama kicks in (wedding, lost jobs, sick parents) and things aren't so grand. Then Amy disappears on the day of their fifth wedding anniversary. The questions just don't stop. Did Nick kill Amy? Did Amy kill Amy? Is Amy even dead? WHERE IS AMY? The book rotates between each of the main characters perspectives and my loyalties switched with every turn of the page. This one will make you crazy and could make you swear*. A little. (What the what?!?!?).  I have heard that the author wrote a new ending for the movie, and that has me very curious.
       The movie stars Ben Affleck and Rosamund Pike. It is scheduled to hit theaters this October.

2)Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail (Vintage) by Cheryl Strayed
  Wild is a memoir of a young woman who's world has completely crumbled. She decides she needs to do something to find meaning in her life. So logically, having never backpacked before, Cheryl sets off to hike the Pacific Crest Trail (over 1000 miles) alone. This was a pretty amazing story about a girl who became a fearless survivor because she decided she would. It is a well written book full of grit and determination but I kept wanting to help her find what she was missing. And so I shouted some things about love, grace and Jesus.  But she didn't hear me. Something about the time space continuum, seeing as this all went down in 1996.
  The movie stars Reese Witherspoon.

3) This Is Where I Leave You: A Novel by Jonathan Tropper
  This is the story of a grieving family who comes together to sit Shiva for the father they just lost, and barely knew. No one in the family is practicing really any kind of faith at this point, they ALL put the fun(ky) in dysfunctional and haven't spent this much time together since they were kids. There are some hilarious moments, but I just kept thinking to myself, surely there are not THAT many screwed up people in one family. Is it possible for so many grown-ups to make so many bad decisions in the course of one week? Apparently, if you're in the Foxman family the answer is yes.
   The movie stars Jason Bateman and Tina Fey (which helps!) and will be coming to a theater near you in September. Which is my birth month. Send gifts.

4) The Giver (Readers Circle (Laurel-Leaf))     by Lois Lowry
   It took me a minute to locate this book in the library. Turns out it's a children's book. It follows twelve year old Jonas who lives a pain free perfect society. There are many rules in order to maintain peace, order, serenity and sheer numb sameness. Everyone is polite to the point of annoyance and no one ruffles any feathers. Because they don't know how. Things get real for Jonas when he is selected to be the "receiver of memory", meaning he's going to be the only one who knows what's really going on. How he deals with such crushing information is the crux of this story. It may be that I am right on level with junior department writing, but I really enjoyed this one. It was a quick read, but made me think. And I was cheering Jonas on to find the truth, even if the truth led to heartache. Because real life is full of emotion, good and bad.
 This movie stars Brenton Thwaites, Meryl Streep, Jeff Bridges and Taylor Swift. August 15th is it's release date.

5) The Fault in Our Stars by John Green
 Two teenagers meet in a cancer support group and fall in love. Sounds like a real pick me up, huh? You all need. to. read. this. book. I am not even going to describe it because I would never do it justice. But I couldn't put it down. It's beautiful and snarky and sad and funny. All at the same time.
Hazel and Gus will forever be real people to me. And I'm not even going to try to pretend that's not weird.
The movie stars Shailene Woodley and Ansel Elgort. It will grace us with it's presence in June. I will be standing in line for tickets in May.

6) Divergent by Veronica Roth
   This is the first of a series of three books telling the tale of Tris. She lives a post war Chicago sometime in the future. Right at the beginning we follow her as she chooses which faction (a life group, there are five to choose from) she will identify with. Everyone takes an aptitude test of sorts to help determine which group would be the best fit for them. Tris is shocked to find out she thinks differently than most, would do well in several of the factions and is therefore divergent. Might as well slap the kid with a death sentence. No one in leadership wants someone who can think for themselves. Much danger ensues.  And I ate it all up. I loved it so much that I went out and bought the next two because we were in the middle of leaving for the season and I knew I wouldn't be able to get it from the library during all the craziness.
  The movie is in theaters now. It also stars the aforementioned Shailene Woodley and Ansel Elgort. This time as brother and sister. I cannot tell you how much that messes with my mind. Clearly the movie people should have checked with me on that one.  Theo James and the lovely Ashley Judd are also in this flick.

So there's the list.

Now you tell me,

what are you reading?



______________________________________________________________

*Mom, no actual swearing was involved in the reading of these books. By me. Really.

Disclaimer: This post is chock full of affiliate links. If you follow said links and make a purchase, this mama gets compensated. A very little amount. Your price does not increase. And now you know.

Disclaimer number dos: All opinions of above mentioned books are mine. Nobody paid me or swayed me in any direction. All information about the above mentioned movies came from IMBD or Wikipedia.

Because research is my thing.

the end

The Unpacking Post

 Most seasons when you come rolling into town, you're in for a few surprises. It can't really be helped when you've rented something by looking at a few pictures and a google map to check the proximity to the nearest Krispy Kreme field. And there are always going to be a few little hiccups while getting settled. For instance, last spring when we got to our summer rental we realized there was no microwave.

This was a serious hindrance to my culinary capabilities.

We weren't really expecting any shockers when we arrived this year because we were actually able to rent the same house.

We call it the Grandma house.

There are so many reasons this house works well for us: it's furnished, it has a garage, it has a great washer and dryer ( baseball life GOLD, I tell you), it's on a cul-de-sac (which the girls rule with their bikes and scooters) and the owners don't mind our old, weak bladdered dog.

But your friendly neighborhood realtor may take a look and say

it needs some TLC or

it's ripe with potential.

This is code for

bring your sledgehammer and goggles.

So the only major differences we noticed when we walked in the first night was that the back room was completely empty. Last year it was full of brown wicker furniture and Asian decor. This year it's where we throw our shoes and dry our laundry. And also, there used to be about 38 lamps in this house. Now there might be 3.

This is unfortunate because I did all my light bulb shopping from those lamps. Didn't have to buy one last summer. Just kept moving them from one hula girl lamp to another.

When we walked further into the house we realized that half the lights were out (dang bulb shortage) and we were not alone.

You know that smell? The one that tells you something has died a possibly horrible death in the walls or the attic?

If you don't, it's just as lovely as you would imagine.

Only not.

My brave husband checked the attic and didn't find anything. Shortly after that I attempted to put a light bulb in the girls bathroom fixture so they stood less of a chance of falling in.

I failed.

I mean, the light came on, but I didn't secure the heavy glass globe well enough and it came crashing down into about 70 million pieces.

I forgot the can opener but I did remember the little scoop broom and garbage bags.

 Steel trap and clairvoyant.

At that point, it was late. We hadn't unpacked anything of consequence. The hallway smelled like something that missed it's own funeral and now it was booby trapped with glass shards.

Welcome to baseball 2014! Go Baybears!

So we did what anyone would do. We went to bed. Pajamas and toothbrushes be slammed.

And do you know what? When we woke the next day  our allergies had kicked in so strongly we couldn't smell Bigfoot's dead cousin anymore the smell was gone.

Hallelujah!

And in the morning light, I could see that we didn't need to get a fresh round of tetanus shots.

Things were looking up.

And now, a tour:

His and her chairs. Be jealous.

The aforementioned bathroom. Minus one globe. Allegedly.

Why yes, that is a half bath with a door that won't close. Privacy schmivacy.

Anybody need a throw pillow? I'm your gal.

This is where we keep Lainey.

This is where we keep the Littles.

This is where we keep 1979.

This is where I would use a sledgehammer..... (also allegedly)

There it is. In all it's forty year old glory.

I have to go now,  to get things going for dinner before the double header tonight.

My new fancy hand-held can opener can't crank itself you know.



______________________________________________________________________

The Mobile BayBears are 6-4.

The Packing Post

I love our weird life. The traveling, the new experiences for our girls, the kettle corn, the people we meet along the way, the ball games, the kettle corn, the tight baseball pants...all of it. I am just as excited about the start of this season as I have been for the past fourteen before it.

But.

There are two things I hate about being a baseball wife:

packing and unpacking.

As fate would have it we get to move about every 6 months.

Bully for me.

I distinctly remember the night before Andy's AA season in El Paso was ending..okay I can't remember what year is was so maybe distinctly is pushing it, but we were laying in bed discussing travel plans and I rolled over and said

Just so you know, I'm going to be mad at you tomorrow.

Now, I'm sure you're wondering why I would say such a thing to such a great fella.

I'm glad you asked.

My reasons were twofold:

A) I believe in clear communication and

B)  packing sucks stinks.

If I could go back in time, anytime really, I would pick this moment. And I would say to myself

HEY YOU BIG NINNY! You think packing for two whole people is hard? See ya in eight years with your car top carrier covered mini-van complete with little pink potty. For your three children. And your dog.

(Not that the dog has ever used the little pink potty.)

(Despite my best efforts.)

(Back to the yelling at myself.)

I'm looking at you sassafras. Sleep pretty because these are the easy years!

End scene.

Anyway, packing, it's a real gas. And this year was no different. I did manage to hoist the car top carrier on the night before we left. (Which was huge because it was pouring rain the next day.)

But then I forgot such actions and very nearly crashed into the garage a few hours later.

{Insert silent cursing here}

Our friends, the Myers, were in town that afternoon and while the kids were playing Caitlin watched me flit around the kitchen like a drunk hummingbird trying to remember what all I needed to put into my "kitchen stuff" bin. At one point she said

Um, don't you have a list or something?

List? I don't need no stinking list! It's all in my head. Steel trap, baby.

Plus, if I make a list, I have to keep track of said piece of scrap paper and we all know

that's just not gonna happen.

So I just stand in each room with a suitcase, debating what needs to come with us and what we can do without (which is most everything- you'd be amazed). Then I determine if what I've collected will fit into the vehicle and if I can actually lift it. From there, the items that make the cut get stacked in an orderly manner the front hall, where they sit until it's time to load the van. 

It's all very scientific.

But not fool-proof.

Last year I forgot underwear.

My underwear.

Who does that?!?

Someone who refuses to make a check list, that's who.

Turns Out I Don't Control the Weather

Listen, I was pretty sure that I had done all of central Kentucky a favor because when we landed in Phoenix that Saturday afternoon, it was pouring down rain. POURING. This was a welcome sight for most of the locals because they had gone 70 days without any precipitation.

Seventy.

Seven. Zero.

Then the Greens show up and BAM, record rainfall.

You're welcome.

But the next day Arizona did it's thing and turned toasty and gorgeous while back home it snowed so much they had three more snow days.

My apologies to parents all along the east coast.

Mama tried.

Once the flash flooding got under control out in Scottsdale our days fell into a comfortable pattern. Andy left early each morning for the field while we girls would later straggle out of bed and head to the hotel breakfast. Some of us wearing our pajamas. The girls thought the fancy beeping waffle maker was the best. I wondered why all the eggs tasted like they came out of plastic chickens.

Then we would have the mornings to play at a park, go visit some old baseball buddies who call AZ home or hang out at the pool.

It was really rough.

And speaking of friends we got to visit, shout out to my friend Stacy who drove nearly two hours to meet us at a park she had scoped out online. Unfortunately, the inter webs had failed to mention to my dear pal that this park was hosting the Ostrich festival that very weekend.

(Side note: plural for ostrich is ostriches, but plural for cactus is not cactuses. My children are outraged by this, as well they should be.)

So we tried to hoist the children over the giant barricades rolled with the punches and went to another (lamer) park. The kids had a great time and we got to laugh a lot. Which is usually what we do whenever we're together.

Then after all the morning fun was had we got to spend the afternoons with Andy, which was the point of the whole trip. We went to a ballgame, went to the pool and one afternoon the girls painted pottery. It's here I'd like to confess that I may have issues.

I realize this is not new information.

I am not what anyone would call a neat freak, heck you wouldn't even call me neat, but something about gobs of paint being plopped around all willy-nilly nearly had me in the fetal position. I finally looked at Andy and said,

Well, at least we will have a great memory of what our girls were capable of at the ages of 5 and 7.

Which prompted Emily to paint an "E" on one wing of her fairy and a "5" on the other.


                                      

Just what I had envisioned.


As our trip was winding down, the minor league spring games were just starting. We made it out one morning for some baseball action, which was completely ignored by my children once they realized their good buddies Joe and Leila were there. It was like old times for Alysa and I as we have been on this baseball journey together since before there were little baby Bajenarus and Greens. Our hubbies have played against each other, with each other and started out on the coaching journey together.

photo credit: Alysa Bajenaru Photography

                                                 

So at the end of the day, I am just so thankful we made this trip. Spring training was unusually long this year, and being without Daddy for those eight weeks would have tested our limits for sure. Our goodbyes were easier this time as we flew back to the frozen tundra of Kentucky because we knew we were just weeks away from the start of the real season in Mobile.
                         

                             
                                                                    

On the flight home, I was reflecting on just how gosh darn lovely the trip was. The girls traveled well, the time difference wasn't a huge factor, the only drama we had was when Lainey got stung by a bee and that mostly came from me (We were at the big league field. There were news cameras. She's too tall to carry away quickly. NOTHING TO SEE HERE.)

Even the trek to and from the airport in Kentucky was made easier thanks to Andy's uncle who dropped us off and picked us up in our own minivan so we could just hit the road.

Life was grand.

Or at least it was until I pulled into our garage, fresh off the unicorns and daisies day dream, and noticed that our van was smoking from the engine. A lot.


That, my friends, is when life became a country song........

(too be continued)