Difficult Week

We have reached that part of the school year where the weeks feel like years. The closer we get to summer, the more difficult the work days become. Everyone can feel the warmth of summer beating down upon us, and school becomes long and gruesome. Students believe that teachers enjoy making this part of the year hard on them, but it is just as hard for us to gaze at the sun kissed window panes thinking of lazy days and farmers markets and swimming pools and cold watermelons and days at the lake and trips to the gulf and afternoon cookouts and late night yahtzee games and porch nights and all things summer.
And it gets even more difficult when we actually have to work really hard. And this week, I have had to work REALLY hard.
There was one day that I had to leave work promptly, get on the interstate to drive to Montgomery, then sit through a planning meeting followed by a work dinner. Now, I know there are people who run this kind of a schedule every day. Driving up and down the highway, late afternoon meetings, business dinners, getting home after dark, wearing sensible shoes in the morning so you can last all day.....and I have to say that I salute you! I'm not made for that! It was long and it was hard and by the time they fed me I was about to gnaw off my own arm, and I missed my kids and my husband and my TIVO and my bathroom.
Then there was another day that I had to make hard decisions with an intern. For the sake of confidentiality, I won't get into the specifics of this situation, but it was HARD. I know there are plenty of people who spend their days having meetings and giving feedback and providing constructive criticism and looking people dead in the eye and telling them difficult things.....and I salute you, too. I don't know how to have confrontations and deliver hard to hear news and be the meanie pants all the time. It's hard.
Then there was the whole Nealy's sick again thing. This time we're not totally sure what's going on, but we're pretty sure it's ears even though the fluid in them has not reached the infection level just yet. She's just mildly feverish and fussy and upset and not smiling all the time. And my baby honestly smiles ALL the time. So when she doesn't, you know little one feels icky. Joe has been super dad, and he has stayed home with her for 2 days. All we're doing now is trying to hang on until our ENT appointment next week.
I spent most of Thursday thoroughly convinced that it was Friday. I'm sure you can imagine my disappointment.
Not that Friday really means that much lately, because I've had so much planned on my weekends that I've had to program things into my phone calendar. I mean, I can't just remember what I have to do, I have to set an alarm to remind me to do it.
Ok - on to the good things that are happening for me. Because although this work week has been hard and long and tiring, there are plenty of bright spots in my fog. First of all, I won a pair of sandals from Dillards. Yes! I entered a contest and I WON! Y'all know my affection for shoes. Of course, they gave me blisters today, but they're totally cute and I will surely work them in soon.
Then there was this tortellini salad that I made that I wanted to marry because it was so good. That was a good thing.
Jacks told me that he loved me and he's glad I came home the other night after I had to work late. That was nice.
Oh yeah, then there's this....
Okay, so she's not totally walking just yet. But she's been taking a few steps here and there, and we know it's just a matter of days before she takes off. This is HUGE news, but it's bittersweet. It means my sweet baby girl is getting older, which is hard to take. I want to keep her little and small and my wee bebe. When she starts walking, she'll just walk away from me. And I still want her to stay in my arms all the time.
And yes, I've just posted pictures of myself as my unshowered, pajamaed self from first thing in the morning. Don't judge. You're not pretty first thing in the morning, either.

And of course, we are mere weeks away from leaving for camp. I can't remember how much I have talked about Camp Beckwith on this blog, but it is one of my all time favorite places on the planet. I attended Camp Beckwith as a camper and worked there as a counselor for a combined 11 years. It is a little piece of heaven located on Weeks Bay in Fairhope, AL. Although I have been away from Beckwith for many years, I have been graciously hired to serve as Associate Camp Director this summer, which means the Dyers are headed to camp!
I seriously don't know how I'm going to make it though the next four weeks before we leave. There is so much to do, and all I want to do is day dream of long, hot summer days at camp on the bay.
(I'm trying to NOT think about the effects of the oil spill on my beloved Gulf Coast waters. I've not spoken about it very much because that is a situation that I'm still trying to get my head around.)
As I sit here, late on a Sunday night, I am trying to get my second wind to dive into another busy, busy week full of boot camp classes, doctor's appointments, a field trip, a visit from my big sister (YAY!!!), and a mini trip next weekend to camp to do a little preliminary work and deliver some large items we'll need for the summer. Oh yeah, and I have that little thing called work going on all week. I need to dig around in my drawer and find my big girl panties. I'm going to need them this week. And caffeine. And ibuprofin. And wine.

Handsome Boy

There was never a child so lovely but his mother was glad to get him to sleep.

~Ralph Waldo Emerson

The Old 280 Boogie

Saturday was jam packed with activities, and we had to pick and choose what we were going to do. I had to spend the morning at boot camp and running errands, but the afternoon would either belong to me or to my family. I had a shower to attend, but I opted out in order to spend a couple of hours with the kids in the sunshine before everyone crashed at nap time.

No, it wasn't the most well mannered choice. When invited to a party, if you are able to attend you should. But sometimes there aren't enough hours in the week to properly enjoy your kids, so I had to make the selfish choice.

There were lots of activities going on at Auburn - the Vet school open house, A-day, BBQ cook off at the Ag Heritage Park, sneak peek of the new sports arena - but Joe and I decided that we would head to the country. The Old 280 Boogie was going on in Waverly, and I think we made the better choice.

Several years ago, Highway 280 went straight through the middle of Waverly, AL. Although being along this thoroughfare made Waverly a little more than a blip on the map, it made life there kind of hard. The traffic was bad and it moved fast. The slow pace of this tiny town was seriously hindered by the speeding cars. So when 280 was rebuilt and widened, the state was kind enough to move it just outside of town, once again making Waverly the slow paced, off-the-beaten path town that they always wanted to be. In honor of losing this highway, Waverly began the Old 280 Boogie 10 years ago. It is primarily a music festival and crafts fair with a few food vendors thrown in. It is a VERY relaxed atmosphere. Folks come in droves with blankets, lawn chairs, and coolers ready to enjoy some great tunes in good company.
We had a blast. The kids rode to town in the new wagon, which was the epitome of riding in style. We all enjoyed some great food, good music, and a big bowl of ice cream. We saw several friends and made a few new ones. It was a great day. As we were packing up to leave, I told a couple that was sitting behind us that we would be getting out of their way. The woman said, "Honey, please, y'all are fine. If you've got problems with anyone here, you're in the wrong place!" So true, so true. I will never miss an Old 280 Boogie again. Those are the types of folks that I enjoy being around.
Notice in the picture above Jacks is showing off his new Waverly tee shirt. He got chocolate ice cream all over his shirt, so I promised him I'd buy him a new one. All this, plus he got to sit in yet another fire truck! That boy's been in more fire trucks than anyone I know.

Nealy turned 1!!!

April 2nd was Nealy's first birthday. It was a Friday, and we celebrated quietly at home with McDonald's for supper and cupcakes for dessert. The weekend that followed was Easter weekend, so we opted to wait a week to have Nealy's big party. And on the next Sunday, we had a big party. It was actually a fete, you see the theme was French. I found Nealy the perfect dress with Eiffel Towers and a French marketplace scene on it, so the theme for the party was born from the perfect dress.Immediately, a major search for the perfect poodle cake began, and the rest of the French party went from there. Croissant sandwiches, fruit and cheese, sparkling cider and French sodas, face painting and sidewalk chalk, French bistro music from the 50s and 60s, a feather boa on the front door, Eiffel towers throughout the house, handmade tissue paper decorations - it was my attempt to have a perfectly French fete. And it was perfect, from the amazingly beautiful weather to the perfectly pink yard flower arrangements, a tres chic time was had by all. Oui, oui!

Here is the birthday girl modeling her fancy new dress. The pearls didn't last long - they were on an elastic cord, and she kept stretching them out and whapping herself in the face. Posing with mama before the guests arrived. The piece de resistance: the poodle cake. If you're on facebook, you need to look up Cakeapotomous, which is my friend Mandi's cake page. Her cakes are works of art - and she has a whole photo album of Nealy bug enjoying her cakes! I will never trust my cakes to anyone else. The invitation..... The chalkboard in the foyer...... The smash cake..... The dining table centerpiece...... I even made tissue paper balls to make the house a little more festive (thanks to Shealy for the instructions). They were placed throughout the house and the yard. And, since I don't know what to do with them post-party, and I can't bring myself to throw them out, they remain throughout the house and yard one week later..... The birthday girl as she is about to attack her smash cake..... Post smashing......
She was willing to share a little with her grandfather..... My cousin Heather loving on the little girl of the hour...... Nealy having a ball with her daddy (notice Joe's French look for the day)....... Jacks with his cousin Morgan....... My friend Anna and I with her baby Ellis (who is exactly 6 weeks older than Nealy Bug)...... Nealy trying to attack Morgan. One of Nealy's favorite teachers and our newest family member, Heather, is holding Nealy Bug. She was amazingly helpful at the party.
And I want to point out how much Morgan took advantage of the face painting activity. She was extremely proud of her new tattoos. Jacks and Harper (Ellis's big brother - he is exactly 6 weeks older than Jacks) taking Nealy's present out for a spin.... Cara drawing a picture on the outdoor chalkboard.... Nealy and Ellis. Ellis is walking now, so this picture was hard to catch.... Jacks loving on his sister.... Isn't she a clever little girl? Overall, the party was a great success. We had several family members and friends in attendance, and some drove from great distances to be here. We are so lucky to have so many people who love our children so much.

Thank you to everyone who helped make this day so special - and a special thanks to Mandi for her amazing cakes, to Kellie for taking so many great photos, to Ashley who painted faces and took even more wonderful photos, and to Heather Lloyd who was my right hand for the entire party. And I can't thank people without mentioning my parents, who came to Auburn 2 days early to help me out with getting the house and yard ready for this soiree. They do so much for all of us.

I highly recommend enlisting the help of as many people as you can to help with your children's parties. I could not have had done it all without the help, and we hope they had a good time, too. We feel like we have some new members of our family.

I could not have asked for more for our little French princess. She is getting so big and smart and pretty and perfect. Walking should be coming soon, but I hope she holds off just a little while longer. I love that she's still my little bebe.

I'm running a little behind

I'll catch up soon. The pictures were taken at 10 and 11 months, but you know I haven't posted them, yet. Soon, friend, soon.....

Stop and smell the roses

Last week I got knocked down. Big time. I found that it is possible to break under pressure.

Nealy has been sick with an ear infection for weeks now. After a few sleepless nights last weekend, Joe stayed home with her on Monday and took her to the doctor. I was preparing for a discussion about tubes, and I was concentrating on scheduling that during spring break. But no, her ears were clear as a bell. Yay! But she had RSV. Boo. The good news on that was no fever, not contagious anymore, already on the way out. The bad news was more sleepless nights with no relief for little Nealy Bug other than Tylenol, Ibuprofin, and a hope and a prayer. Joe generally takes the brunt of midnight wakings because he's such a light sleeper and such a wonderful husband. But this week, we were both on Nealy duty.

And with a screaming infant in the night comes a waking boy, who wakes up with nightmares and nonsense and he doesn't know why.

One night when I was trying to console Nealy, who was screaming and sweating and screaming and screaming, Joe fussed at me, "Just put her down and roll over and go to sleep!" Then we both immediately started laughing at his ridiculous demand. Sleep? With this racket going on? With our little one in misery? That's high-larious. So, awake we both remained. And frustrated and upset.

Although Joe and I had been reduced to walking zombies, life tends to go on. Work days come and go, with all the excitement and agony and joy and pain that teaching school can bring all at the same time. There was a light at the end of our tunnel: Spring Break.

Well, long story short, I didn't make it. After having a series of near break downs throughout the day on Thursday in the most embarrassing and hurtful way (by unloading on my teaching team), I discovered that I was getting sick. Like really sick. And when I didn't sleep through the night on Thursday night, not because anyone was screaming or upset, but because my throat was rapidly closing, I knew I had to take action.

I was up on Friday morning before 5 am carefully crafting my morning plan. After taking care of the kids and getting myself dressed, I would be waiting at the doc in the box 10 minutes before they opened to insure that I would be the first patient of the morning. I would get in there and demand a throat culture, because I knew that I had strep throat, and when they verified what I already knew, I would tell the doctor to NOT mess with a prescription and to promptly give me a penicillin shot in my butt. After which I would be on my way, and hopefully no later than 3o minutes late to work. It was a good plan. A solid plan. A very easily screwed with plan.

And it got screwed with immediately upon Jacks waking up demanding to be taken to the doughnut store, loudly and repeatedly. I managed to ignore him for a while, but when he refused to get out of bed and get dressed because he was so singularly focused on his doughnut demand, I swore. Straight to his face. I pointed my famous finger at him and said, "Nobody is going to the DAMN doughnut store if you don't get out of that bed and put on your stinking clothes. So GET UP!" Man, did that kid start moving.

Somehow getting myself put together that morning took no time at all. I think it had something to do with the fact that I didn't look in the mirror. Not once. And it was jeans day at work. Jeans, tee shirt, cardigan, blow dry, lip gloss, let's go to the doughnut store. It was about 6:45 when Jacks and I left the house. Joe and Nealy were on their own to get themselves to school and work as long as Joe made sure Jacks's backpack got to day care, we'd be solid.

Doughnut store. In, out, no problem. With every passing moment, I wondered how I was going to manage my next voluntary swallow with a closed throat, and I kept thinking the smell of the doughnuts was going to make me puke. Which I didn't know how that was going to happen with a closed throat. Would it just stop mid-gullet? Would I choke to death in the Daylight Donuts in front of my son who was picking the icing off of his vanilla doughnut? I wasn't sure. At this point, if you know me, you know I was sick, sick, sick. That would be the ONLY explanation for me passing on a doughnut.

I got Jacks to school with a few minutes to spare, so I talked to his teacher for a minute. He had come home the day before without underwear on, and there was a really great story there. Here's the part where I digress.....

Jacks came home totally commando, and he announced proudly, "I took off my underwear all by myself, and I throw them away!" Big smile. Hmmmmmm.....after much probing, I was still no closer to any answers. I was starting to think that he had an accident and was hoping to hide the evidence from those of us who might be upset about said accident. Well, here's what really happened. He very carefully and methodically unraveled the entire waistband of his underwear during movie time at school (it was a rainy day). His teacher noticed him fidgeting, and she kept telling him to sit still during the movie. This happened several times until she went over to him to see what the heck, upon which she discovered he had a handful of green string. He claimed he didn't know where it came from, but that his underwear would NOT stay up. She yanked off his drawers and stuck him back in front of the movie, and putting on another pair was soon forgotten. It really is a pretty good story. I don't think I did it justice.

Back to topic.....the doc in the box. During my sleepless night, I had checked their web site for their hours. Open at 7:30. Cool, I'd totally be there. I was running a little later than I wanted, but I got to the parking lot at 7:27. There was another girl waiting outside, so I would be the second patient of the day. Not good, but still not bad. I also noticed that the office was completely dark - no office staff getting ready for the day, no custodian flipping on lights and wiping down windows, no nothing. It was then that I started to read the hours printed on the door. Only one location of this particular doc in the box opens at 7:30, and I was not at that office. Here are my options....go on to work and continue to pretend that I'm not sick, then freak out on someone else like I did the day before? Wait at this office until they opened at 8, then be seen promptly? Or race across town to the other office and get in line? I chose the last choice. There were 8 people in front of me, and I wasn't seen until 8:20. In the painfully passing minutes prior to being called back I was tearing up my Blackberry. I texted my team, my boss, my husband, called the substitute placement service, frantically making sure everyone was okay in my absence and assuring everyone I was going as fast as I could. I could still do this, right? I'd be okay.

So, my turn. Finally. The nurse weighs me (I've lost 3 pounds - yay - no time to celebrate), then asks why I'm there. I respond, "Because I have strep throat. Give me a culture, please." Her eyebrows raise, but she complies. I wasn't mean about it, just mildly demanding. I was sent back to the waiting room to wait on an empty exam room. I'm honestly wishing we could stop with the formalities, here. Check the test, give me a shot, I'm outta here. Why do I have to see a doctor? Good grief. In the meantime, my assistant principal texts me that I cannot come to work with strep throat and to give it up now. Wow. Talk about taking the wind out of my sails. Don't come? At all? It was the last day before Spring Break - celebration day - I had things to do, plans to follow through on - I couldn't be out. That be crazy talk.

No, I could. not. come. Stay away, they don't want my super gross germs.

The doctor came in and I was in tears. I don't even know why I was crying at this point. I was pissed that my plan didn't come to fruition, but I also felt TERRIBLE. Like, really bad. It hadn't occurred to me to actually realize how sick I felt, just to come to terms with the fact that I was sick and to get it treated. The doctor gladly complied with my demand for a shot of penicillin, then told me to get a new toothbrush in a few days and to stop kissing my babies for a while.

I can feel my story deteriorating, because this was the point in my very short day that I deteriorated. I did, indeed, give it up. I went home with my tail between my legs, and I called my mother on the way to cry and fuss. She made her standard threat, "Do I need to come up there?" I made it home in the pouring rain - oh, I didn't mention that it was raining buckets? Well, it was. It seemed to add insult to injury.

I dragged myself through the door and tore open the Netflix movie that had been sitting on the kitchen table for over a week. Up in the Air - you know, that George Cloony movie? I made it through about 20 minutes of it - while laying in bed, in all my clothes - before it occurred to me that I was A. starving and B. needed to put on pajamas to fully commit to the sick day. As I stood in the kitchen dissolving orange jello in boiling water I found myself staring out the kitchen window. It was at that moment that I noticed that my 20 foot tall, amazingly gorgeous camellia bush in my front yard was literally covered in beautiful, deep scarlet blooms. They couldn't have just appeared there overnight. They had to have had an opportunity to bud and bloom, but I hadn't noticed. There was my one tiny glimmer of hope for my hopeless day - I had stopped to notice my flowers. I hadn't realized that I was that stressed/sick/crazy/exhausted/running on fumes. But I guess I was. Thank you strep throat for stopping me dead in my tracks. Thank you Spring Break for giving me the time I need to enjoy my family and my house and my yard and my life. I think I needed that.

Oh, and since I'm sure you're irritated that you had to do all that reading without enjoying a single picture, here's one just for kicks.
Jacks took it with his dad's SLR camera. Yes, we let our 3 year old operate a really expensive camera. It's the little things, you know?

I'll try to blog more soon. I'm really busy watching Joe paint the trim in our house, plus we're keeping out Netflix streaming pretty busy since we've discovered Dexter. You know - important stuff.

Sunday afternoon at the airport

When you think about spending time at the airport, I doubt anything comes to mind like the afternoon we had today. There were no restaurants, bars, or duty free shops. No security, no metal detectors, no Hare Krishnas. This is a small, one trick operation, which also proved to be a fantastic way to spend a Sunday afternoon.

It all started this morning when Jacks started saying that he wanted to go to the airport. What? The airport? Where did he get this idea? He claimed that all of his friends (he managed to list 3 of them) had been to the airport, and, "Everyone goes to the airport, Mommy." This last comment was complete with an obligatory eye roll.

Ok, you all know that we live in Auburn. If we want to go anywhere by air, we have to drive to Atlanta. Our airport is simply a formality. A series of tiny airplane hangars and a few landing strips to accommodate private and courier planes. Any jets that might go in and out of our airport are very small, like fit in a two car garage small. So, the thought of spending time at our airport never once crossed my mind. We have only been there once - for a birthday party in a hangar.

I quickly sent a text to a dear friend of mine whose husband has a plane at that airport (this plane is so small it has its own parachute - not like a parachute for the passengers, a parachute for the whole plane). She said it is fine to go on over there and hang out - have fun! Ok....here we go.

Remember that old TV show "Wings"? That airport is HUGE compared to the Robert G. Pitts Airport. We walked in to a sitting area that reminded me of the DMV, only with better snack machines. We walked past a receptionist who was very busy on her cell phone, and she waved us off when we asked if it would be okay if we just....... Apparently, she wasn't worried. So we walked right out on to the nearest air strip, where there was a small group of college aged boys playing football.

There was a small fleet of little planes, all of which were emblazoned with an orange and blue AU on the tail. I am thinking that those might be the learning planes - surely you can take flying lessons there. There isn't much else going on. In the distance we watched a little plane circling the area, then it would touch down on a far off runway, only to take off again - we guessed it was someone getting in their flying hours.
While we were there, a few of the private planes took off or were about to. One couple was loading up their plane while it was carefully inspected by someone who looked very important with a clipboard. Their send off crew was apparently the football players on the runway. Another couple climbed right into their tiny, single engine propeller plane, and after 3 or 4 attempts to get it cranked, they taxied off into the distance before taking off. At that point, I commented to Joe that I would get in one of those planes over my dead, cold body, and the hissy fit I would pitch prior to being forced into one would be epic and unforgettable by all.

A nice girl who was about to get on a teeny, tiny plane (and she didn't appear to be medicated) was nice enough to take a family picture of us.

My airport story isn't all that interesting, and there doesn't seem to be a point to it, but it was a great day. We had so much fun, and there was lots of room for a little guy to run and run and run and scream. I will also add that they are currently building a much larger (but still not large) and modern facility on the other side of the property which will accommodate a lot more air travel. I anticipate many more trips to the airport in our future.