"Perfect" Timing

Our youngest has impeccable timing. And by impeccable I mean shitty.

Remember? When J-man broke his nose? Ty-man and I were driving to Savannah for our 15th anniversary trip. Now, I know, I know, I'm the worst mother in the world for implying that when he broke his nose we was trying to screw up our trip rather than all of that being just pure chance, which is not what I'm saying at all. Allow me, though, to point out two more instances of his near-psychic ability to sense when something is about to happen and to slam that fork in the road in order to change our direction.

This past summer, I was packing up the kids for dinner at friend Toni's house. Our close sorority sisters were coming with their kids, as well, and it was shaping up to be an evening of catching up and much revelry. As I called to the kids to put on their shoes and load up in the minivan, J-man tore around the corner of the kitchen counter and caught said corner with the top of his head. I suppose he was trying to disprove that electrons repel and actually go through the counter rather than be stopped by it. It didn't work. And instead of going to Toni's house, J-man and I went to the ER (no stitches necessary but OMFG the blood!) while Bubba and Miss-Miss stayed behind with my mother.

Then, there was just this past Thanksgiving Day when I dressed the kids in matching red and green, told the Ty-man that he would wear red or else, and we all got gussied up for our Christmas card picture. We went to the home of Ty-man's brother for a beautiful family meal and gathering. As the turkey digested and the afternoon quieted, the kids wandered outside to explore. After watching them for 15 minutes and realizing they were in a great mood (read: PICTURE TIME!), I quietly exited stage right to retrieve the Ty-man and his brother (a.k.a. our photographer). As I grasped the door handle, J-man screeched. It wasn't a "he stole my toy" screech, it was an "I'm in pain!" screech.

Yeah. My son decided to get into an argument with a rose bush and guess who won?

This is our Christmas card picture:


And this is the J-man's face enlarged:


My sweet little boy is, I admit, a walking accident and five minutes after the whole ordeal, he was ready for his close-up. He was smiling and laughing like nothing had happened. When we walked by the rose bush my brother-in-law asked him, "Did you get into a fight with that rose bush?" J-man answered "Uh-huh. I lost."

Naw, you didn't lose, sweetie. You won. Because you're smiling and that rose bush? Well, it's just dead and ugly until next summer. So, there!

I wonder what next year's picture will look like?

Giving Thanks

I am thankful that the Ty-man's parents both attended a Georgia Southern Baptist dinner and happened to sit across from one another in 1963.

I am thankful that my mother decided to go on that blind date with that policeman back in 1968 and married him one year later.

I am thankful that Space Academy in Huntsville, Alabama, was full my first two week choices in April, 1988 and that I had to go the week after my high school's spring break.

I am thankful that when I called that cute, tall boy who was in my Space Academy group, that he wasn't dating anyone.

I am thankful that Ty-man's parents showed me (21 years and two days ago today) the place where my boyfriend would be attending college.

I am thankful that I joined a sorority and met my best and lifelong friend Toni.

I am thankful that when I broke off my engagement to Ty-man, then realized my gigantic mistake, that he still loved me, too. And forgave me.

I am thankful that Toni convinced me to attend a sorority alumnae meeting six months after my college graduation, where I met my other best and lifelong friend Jenny.

I am thankful that I married Ty-man 15 years and almost six months ago.

I am thankful that Jenny's mother-in-law gave me the business card of one Dr. Ceana Nezhat when I found out I was infertile.

I am thankful that Dr. Nezhat's family escaped the 1979 Iranian Revolution and came to America where he and his brothers became experts in obstetric, gynecologic, and endocrinologic sciences.

I am thankful that I listened to the Ty-man and Dr. Nezhat and tried one more round of fertility treatments when I was ready to give up.

I am thankful that the NICU nurses and doctors took care of my twin babies for 20 days.

I am thankful that I didn't take birth control the year after the twins' birth and received the best surprise of my life.

I am thankful for my family and for all of the random moments and chances that made us us.

The Kids Have Got It, Part 3

Yep, even J-man got in on the action. Here's the video of our youngest beginning his career as the Stig starting my minivan.



If you can't see the above video, click here to view it on YouTube. If you missed Valley Dude-speaking Bubba then click here, or if you want to see Miss-Miss tell a story check her out here!

The Kids Have Got It, Part 2

So, finally, here is part two of showing off my three hoodlums beautiful children. In this installment, Miss-Miss tells a story. By the way, she had about a three-minute warning that she was doing this and I think she did swimmingly!



If you can't see the above video click here to watch it directly on YouTube. And if you missed part 1, where Bubba teaches us how to talk like a Valley Dude, then click here or here.

The Kids Have Got It, Part 1

It's time to show you guys my kids in action. First up is Bubba!



If you're unable to see the above video, click here to watch it.

My Apologies

If I haven't called you.

If I haven't invited you for coffee.

If I forgot to tell you about the funny sign I saw the other day.

If I didn't read your post.

If I didn't invite you to dinner.

If we haven't spoken in two months.

If I don't remember your favorite color.

If I forget to show you a funny picture of the kids.

Don't take it personally. I had no idea, when lying there pregnant with the twins, that motherhood would take so much of me. I didn't realize that my brain would be occupied with kids, KIDS, KIDS! That I would barely have any room to remember to shower or eat or blink, much less keep up with the world outside our four walls. I'm not ignoring you on purpose. I'm just trying to survive motherhood.

My most humble apologies.

Dear Mom,

I get it. All of it. And I'm sorry.

Allow me to deconstruct this apology.

Remember how you would sometimes drive me to school and you would have nappy, unwashed hair, no make-up, no bra, all covered up in your terry cloth robe? And I was embarrassed? Well, now I'm doing it to my kids. Because I'm too tired to even care what my ass looks like when I take them to school. I've been up since 6 AM (earlier if my brain decides 5 AM is a more awesome wake-up time), I've woken up three cranky kids, dressed them, packed their lunches, made beds, maybe even folded laundry all in the span of 90 minutes. I'm tired. And I still have to exercise, so a shower and make-up is out of the question. I totally understand. I literally don't care if what I look like is causing my children extreme shame. I just want to get them to school and get home and I realize that someday, when they have children of their own, they'll understand. And if they don't, too damned bad.

I also remember how you would humiliate me on purpose. You know, try to sing to Devo or dance to the latest Duran Duran song, all in front of my friends. It's because I caused you labor pains, pooped all over the house, barfed on you, and screamed and cried and threw tantrums in public. I get it. Because every time Bubba doesn't want a kiss and says OOOOOO! YUCK! whenever I get close to his cheek, I just want to lick the entire right side of his face. In front of his school friends. And most of Atlanta. On stage. At the Philips Arena.

I also understand why you threw away my How To Be A Valley Girl book. I was 12 and all my friends had the book and being a Valley Girl was the height of 1983 fashion. I loved that book and then it suddenly disappeared. After I wandered around for a month trying to find it, you fessed up and admitted that you and Dad had chucked it because It wasn't appropriate reading material for a 12 year old girl. I was pissed. Beyond angry. But I get it now. Because every time my kids bring home a Silly Band or demand to watch Spongebob Squarepants, I want to throw away the offending plastic bracelets and the DirecTV dish and look at them with a blank stare and a declaration of I have no idea what happened to them. I get it. After months of listening to me shout Like, gag me with a spoon! Fer Shur! I know you were at the end of your parenting-in-the-face-of-the-latest-fad-rope. Because I'm about at the end of my OMFG-not-another-plastic-bracelet-on-the-floor rope and these kids are only five and three.

There are many more secrets of motherhood and parenting that I will be privy to in the future. As I realize them, I'm sure I'll be offering even more apologies. For now, accept these.

Love, Your Remorseful Daughter

Pounding

Stop callin' stop callin' I don't wanna think anymore!/I left my head and my heart on the dance floor!

I'm running. There's no treadmill, no news channel on mute with closed captioning streaming on the screen. There are no muscle-bound freaks walking in and out of my field of vision, pumping iron for the gratification of the mirror and everyone around them. There's only me, my music, my feet pounding the pavement, multiple hills looming in front of me, and the sound of my labored breathing in the crisp, morning air.

Rise up and take the power back/It's time the fat cats had a heart attack/You know their time's comin' to an end we have to unify and watch our flag ascend!

I have to take down Halloween decorations and this makes me sad. It's my favorite holiday, my favorite month, my favorite season of the year. Maybe I'll leave it all up. It makes me happy and probably pisses off the neighbors, but like I've ever done anything for the gratification of anyone living in this corner of Georgia. I could just leave the skeleton there through Christmas and put a Santa hat on him. Yeah, that's it!

You're so gorgeous, I'll do anything/I'll kiss you from your feet to where your head begins/You're so perfect, you're so right as rain/You make me, make me, make me, make me hungry again!

Can I do this hill? It's so long! I HAVE to do this hill. But it's only my second run through the streets. I need to cut myself some slack. I'm giving myself until April to conquer this route. I have six months. I can do this. I have to do this NOW or I'm a failure. I can do it. I can make it. I see the top. I'm done. I have to walk.

I don't know what's worth fighting for or why I have to scream/I don't know why I instigate and say what I don't mean/I don't know how I got this way I know it's not alright/So I'm breaking the habit, I'm breaking the habit tonight.

The house is a wreck. Am I a hoarder? There are too many toys. We need to give a bunch away. I need to teach my kids about giving and not receiving. That's what it's all about, right? How do I impart that to idea to little kids when I'm not even sure of how to explain it to adults? I just feel like I'm living under stuff and not above it. Time to tidy up.

Take my hand/Tonight/Go ahead/Tonight/Play my game/Tonight/Keep your head/Tonight

I AM A RUNNER! I'M DOING THIS! IN AUGUST I COULDN'T EVEN RUN A MILE! NOW I'M DOING THREE! KICK ASS BABY!

Cause you're hot then you're cold/You're yes then you're no/You're in then you're out/You're up then you're down/You're wrong when it's right/It's black and it's white/We fight we break up/We kiss we make up

Oh, I'm so not a runner. I'm a shuffler. I'm not running. I'm shuffling. This is pitiful. I'm probably going to die, right here on this sidewalk. The crows will pick at my eyeballs until animal control comes and shovels what's left onto the back of the truck. S'ry Mr. Ty-man! We done ground her up inter cattle feed! Here's yer bill.

We can't afford to be innocent/Stand up and face the enemy/It's a do or die situation/We will be invincible!

OK I'm in my neighborhood. Can't let any of these fuckers see me panting or dying. Must. Run. Up. This. Hill. No walking. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. I can do this. There's my house. My house with water. Coffee. Shower. TV. Toys everywhere. Dirty laundry. My house. Run. Run. Run. I ran. I'm done. See you on Wednesday you nasty-ass hills.

Heather's running playlist courtesy of:
Lady Gaga and Beyoncé - Telephone
Muse - Uprising
The Cure - Why Can't I Be You?
Linkin Park - Breaking the Habit
Yuksek - Tonight
Katy Perry - Hot N Cold
Pat Benatar - Invincible

I'm Famous!

Well, OK. Not really. I mean, you're not going to open up the paper this morning and witness my scary mug on the front page. Nay. I should have actually titled this I'm Famous in Ellijay! And Maybe Canton. And Possibly Jasper. Dude, I Rocked Gilmer County's Collective Mind! Actually, none of that happened. What truly went on was over a month ago, my paranormal group headed off for Blue Ridge, Georgia to participate in the Blue Ridge Ghost Tour (which, by the way, is a great tour and if you ever find yourself in Fannin County and need something to do, DO IT!). While there, a producer from ETCTV3 asked if we would mind being included in the Halloween special she was preparing for her channel. We said sure and my team shoved me out of line to the front. It was payback time.

See, last year, we were following during an investigation and were part of a late-night Atlanta news report. I made sure, during said investigation, to be behind somebody whenever the camera was around. I was determined to NOT be on TV. Yeah. This time, my team made sure there was no one for me to hide behind. I love you guys and I'll be stealing the batteries out of your KII meters at the next investigation. Hugs and kisses!

Here, in all my impromptu interview glory, is my attempt at cable access TV. Just shoot me.

(P.S. You may need to crank the volume. And FYI, the lady between my two interview segments is the owner of the Blue Ridge Ghost Tour, Kim.)



If you can't see the video above, click here to view on YouTube.

Election Reflections

After finally recovering from my 15. hour. day. at the Rose Creek precinct, I have a few thoughts about this year's general midterm election.

Ahem.

• The polls open at 7AM. Even if Mr. Hapless Voter was unaware of this time, walking into the polling place at 6:10 AM with eight poll workers scurrying about in utter chaos, with voting machines locked up behind red seals and asking Are ya'll open?, we were justified in giving him eight eat shit and die because we haven't had our coffee yet looks.
• Neither the Ty-man nor myself can stand our Georgia House Representative. I voted for her Democratic opponent. Ty-man couldn't bring himself to vote for a Democrat, so he wrote in my name. Yes, my fellow Americans, a vote for me is a vote for apathy. Vote for Heather!
  
• Dear Oblivious Voter: If you walk in to our polling place and walk past THREE signs asking you to turn off your cell phone before entering the voting area and then your cell phone rings (loudly) while I'm handing you your ballot card and then I ask you nicely to please shut it off and then you smart-assedly reply Oh, fine, and I'll just hang up on them while I'm at it, I am TOTALLY justified in shoving said ballot card up your nose. Sideways.
• Being in a total news-vacuum the entire day was refreshing. I hate that election day has become the "Super Bowl" of network news. I liked not knowing who was ahead of whom.
• Dear little 20-something airhead: Yeah, you deserved "Story Time with Heather." You showed up an hour before closing at my precinct, not yours. Then, you rolled your eyes at me while I directed you to the correct precinct just two streets over (Oh, please. You could totally get there and vote by 7. Yes you could! Don't look at me in that tone of voice!). Like it was my fault that you didn't double-check with the elections office to make sure where you needed to vote. For your lack of planning and being an eye-roller, I hope you enjoyed me telling you the story of Election 2000, an election I voted in while your 10-year-old brain was too busy salivating for N*Sync. Yeah, I drove an hour in order to make it to Cumming, because I hadn't sent in my new address, all so I could vote for the presidential candidate of my choice, with nary an Oh. My. GAWD. Uphill. In the snow. Both ways. Danged whippersnappers.
  
• To the guy who was our precinct's 1,000th voter? And got excited about it? And got even more excited when I gave him a sugar-free grape Lifesaver because of said status as the 1,000th voter? You made my damned day, dude.
  
• To the total asshole who walked into our precinct, verbally abused all eight of us poll workers with your snide and rude comments, scared your fellow voters, VOTED (yes, you voted), and then proceeded to ILLEGALLY take pictures inside the polling place because having the voting machines inside a church violated your civil rights? Fuck. Off. First off, you had a month to drag your ugly butt down to the secular library to participate in early voting. Not only that, but you taking pictures of people actively voting at the machines violated a Georgia state law and yes, I would, if I had to do it all over again, grab your arm again. Except this time I would put you in a headlock and detain you until the police arrived so I could show them the evidence on your phone. But your chickenshit ass squirmed away from my weak elbow death-grip, shouted to everyone within earshot "She touched me!!!!" and ran like the worthless douchebag you were. Next time you come in with that attitude and proceed to break state law? I'll do more than violate your civil rights. Don't cross a cross poll worker. More specifically, don't cross me.
• This election cycle, I voted Libertarian/non-incumbent. It was so danged refreshing that I smiled as I turned in my ballot card. I might have skipped, too.

Thank goodness it's all over. Oh, wait. I guess we'll have people fighting over the Oval Office in 2012. Which means this all starts again in just under six months. Dang...