20: The perfect day ...

Just before 10 this morning, I jumped in my car and made a mad dash to see my 9-year-old niece's track meet. I kind of wanted to bum around the house this morning and not have to put on my bra. But, I thought about how my sister would give anything to be able to see her daughter run, and so I just knew I had to be there.

We got there just after they began, and we -- my son and daughter and I -- got to cheer her on throughout the whole thing. When she crossed the finish line, we were there, cheering and taking pictures. Ofcourse, all she wanted was a cold swig of that life-saving liquid Gatorade.


After she finished her race, she wanted to go home and rest. My son wanted to go along with her to grandma's house, and my daughter wanted to stick by my side.

"You want to go hang out with mommy today? I have a $20 bill for us to spend!"

Her eyes widened with delight.

And we were off. We decided to go to Grandy's and hit the breakfast buffet. Just before we walked inside, she said "Can we go to Yelena's grave today? It's been a long time." Ofcourse! I told her.

Our original plan was to go yard-saling. Although, she had a much better idea. "Let's find something for Yelena at a yard sale and then take it to her." And then she talked about how we should find an angel, because angels always remind her of "Auntie Yelena."

Over pancakes, cheese grits and fresh honeydew, we made our plan. The plan was to go to one yard sale -- to the first one we see -- and find something, anything for my sister. "No matter what we find," I said. "It will be special."

I thought it would be fun to make it an adventure and for some reason, I was feeling like my sister was in on the plan herself when that song came on the speaker just over my head. It is that Celine Dion song "Because you loved me." That is my song to her -- we played it at her funeral.

With stuffed bellies, my daughter and I headed in the direction of the grave yard. We stopped at the first yard sale sign we saw in a quiet neighborhood around the corner. I was looking through the girls' clothing on one table when I heard my daughter: "Mommy! Mommy! Look what I found."

And she held in her hands, a ziplock bag with an angel ornament inside. The back contained a little, tiny book that read "An angel gets her wings."

"Oh my gosh!" I squealed. "I can't believe we found it! We found our angel!"

We made the trip to the grave yard and placed the angel on her headstone. Underneath my jet-black sunglasses, I was crying quietly. "Look what we brought you," I said to my sister. "An angel. We found our angel."


After we left, we stopped at ColdStone and shared an icecream. We came home to daddy and two, little screaming babies just before we painted our nails together.

Today was the perfect day with my daughter ... and my sister.

19 I am going to ...

stay up really, really late and watch TV until I can no longer keep my eyes open. Yep, that's what I am going to spend the next few hours of my life doing. For a few hours, I just don't want to think -- at all. This week has been mentally demanding, and I am demanding that I ... relax.

I can't believe it, but I am actually going to leave it at that for this moment. I will be back after I watch my show.

18: Chocolate cake, ice-cold milk.

Physical pain seems to be a theme in my life recently, although hmmm. you think it has anything to do with me having my fourth child recently, just 20 months after my third?

So, I've been walking three times a week (three miles each time,) and I knew it ... I knew it was too good to be true. I knew that my beloved faithful Crocs would one day betray me -- I got blisters today.

And, yes, I know I am a complete idiot for even thinking that Crocs -- just because they feel like heaven on my feet -- would work for that type of walking. Well, I knew I should have listened to my hubby, because I now have blisters on the soles of my feet. I am trying to make my body recover, but it is not all cake.

Speaking of cake ...

I talked to a good friend, Melissa in Ohio, today. I was standing there -- sweaty after a hot, muggy walk -- when my phone rings, and it is Melissa, who I haven't been able to get in contact with recently. In fact, her phone and cable are out because of a storm, I believe. So, we start talking. I'm still sweaty and gross, now there is a kid knocking at my door every few minutes.

... when I had this fabulous idea. "Let me call you back after 9 -- the call will be free and the house will be quiet. And that will give me time to take a nice shower."

What a perfect plan. It's like that piece of chocolate cake that you want to save for the perfect moment -- like when you have an ice-cold glass of milk. Yeah, good friends are like that -- like chocolate cake; and the long, drawn-out, dramatized, deep (and sometimes shallow) conversations after a long week ... is like, well, the ice-cold milk.

You know what I mean?

PS--
So, I am meeting up with my business partner, R, on Sunday after church. We are going to meet somewhere for a nice Sunday lunch after church -- sans the children, hers and mine. We are going to finish writing up the contract and looking over our Web designer's contract and hopefully, we will pay the deposit Monday and the site will actually be ... being developed.

I love it!

17: I hurt.

"How is it that my legs and back are this sore after just a three-mile walk?!" I asked my husband over a piping hot plate of lasagna he had just served up. Yum. There is nothing better than a hot plate of lasagna -- when you haven't had to slave over it and cook it yourself. (Hubby gets brownie points today.)

So, my friend, J, and I have been walking three times a week. Yesterday, we pushed ourselves and did three miles. I know it doesn't sound like much, but in this stuffy, Florida heat, it is a lot. I am just so sore.

And then I remembered that *other* little workout I had last night. "Oh yeah," I said to hubby. "Maybe it wasn't the walk after all. Maybe, it was that uh... other workout ... the, uh, jog we went on."

He just smiled. And the kids had no clue what we were really talking about.

How long will that last, though? I feel like --any day now -- I am going to wake up and have teenagers. And, that makes me sad. Well, I'm torn. On one hand, I cannot wait for them to all be out of diapers. On the other, can't I just freeze them at a perfect age?

Last night, hubby and I were chatting. "We're done, right?"

"Oh yes!"

Um, we were talking about kids, okay?

"You don't want just one more?" I asked.

"No," he said quickly. "I miss sleeping."

He seemed fine, but I was torn and sad.

And then, when he saw me looking sad, he sad "If you want another one in eight years, we can do it."

"Really?!" And I smiled. And then I said, "No. We are really done."

I just know that we are. I knew I was going to have four children a long time ago. It makes me want to cry and smile at the same time.

16: Sticky syrup and the little things in life.

I have spent the last fews days becoming addicted to facebook. I have found about 40 people I know well and have reconnected. I love facebook for that.

So, today was a wonderful day of off work for me. I used one of my "free" holidays from work and took the day off so that hubby could take care of some business. That business was bright and early -- 7 a.m. So, he took off before the sun came up, and I bravely prepared all of the kids for all of their days -- if you are a mom, then you know what I mean when I say: what work!

I managed to lie back down for a brief moment as both 2-year-old E and 6-month-old R slept. It was indeed a brief moment, and then my phone rang. An in-law. "No, he's not home. Yes, you did wake me up."

And with that, baby R was wide awake. But, my hubby was just around the corner. We had delicious plans to go to have a date -- with both children in tow -- at Cracker Barrel. Yum. I wanted the French toast, cheese grits and an ice-cold Coke. The waitress was ... brand-new, I think. We were confused, but she was more confused.

I was trying not to spend too much money -- you know, because if the ridiculous amount of money I just spent on gas. And so she helped me work out some kind of plan. I ordered everything separately -- but in smaller portions.

The food was hot, and the Coke was freezing Cold. I loved the caffeine at that moment. But, I loved my hubby's company even more. We had a wonderful two hours -- chatting about his full morning; about kids; about homes; about money; about how long we have been together. I say 12 years; but he swears 11. Unfortunately, I lost the argument, and he was right. It has been 11 years.

When the waitress handed my hubby the check, I asked to see it the way I always do. I like to know how the money is being spent.

Me:
• "How much for cheese?"
• "Uh, I don't think so. She said just .50, not $1."
• "How much did I just pay for half the amount of food I usually get ... like double?!"

Yes, with my waitress' help, I had just managed to pay almost $10 for a meal I usually pay just about $6 for ... because we had rang up smaller portions, but separately."

Please, tell me how that makes any sense. Well, the manager took care of the issue right away. I still don't like the idea of paying $1 for cheese that I am going to put into a $2 bowl of grits. No way. Okay, whatever. I was just glad that I was paying attention.

Speaking of paying attention, on my way out the door, I was carrying a baby carrier with my very heavy 6-month-old in it. Honestly, I didn't realize how heavy this child was because my hubby always does all of the carrying. I was struggling so hard, with the baby in one hand and my to-go Coke in the other.

I get to the front door when a group of women are just standing there, smiling at my baby. Okay, I am thinking, these nice ladies are going to open this really heavy door for struggling me. Nope. They just smiled and watched as I pulled that heavy door open, and as I did, my Coke slipped from my hand and it was down the front of my shirt.

I was a hot, sticky mess. But the worst part: we had to go to Wal Mart to pick up some baby formula. We were out, like right now. So, yuck, I had to sit in that sticky mess for about another hour until after we picked the kids up from school.

I guess some people don't pay attention, I don't know. But, I think you should always go out of your way to help another human being who is struggling. Always. We need to give to each other in every way we can -- even in the small ways. That small thing could make the difference of a woman having to spend the next hour of her life covered in sticky syrup -- but, you know, just in that area. (I know, really nice!)

I don't care; thats' how I feel. And in my opinion, that's just the way it should be.

Good night, and enjoy your day tomorrow! Let me know how it goes, okay?

Marjorie...
What's going on with Melissa? Can you e-mail me her cell number? I lost it awhile back when I changed phones. I want to call and check on her:-) You can e-mail it to suzyarichardson@gmail.com. Thanks so much!!

Oh, and this is not my daily post, everyone:-)

15: Two words you NEVER want to hear...

...in a grocery store line.

So, I'm baffled. Why do people -- employees -- say the craziest things in front of customers? I wonder if it's because they become numb to us. There are so many of us, that they just don't realize that we are standing there.

So, I was standing with my daughter as the cashier was scanning the few items I picked up for dinner -- some chicken and pasta salad -- when the bagger said this thing. I swear, my eyes must have bulged out of my head.

But, I have an intrinsic mom quality about me. Yes, that happens when you have four children. "Oh, honey. It will be okay. Just close your eyes and imagine you are somewhere else. Believe me, I have four kids."

"Really?" she asked.

"Yes." And before I knew it, my groceries were in my green Publix bag (yay! for me, remembering my bag!) and we were walking away.

"Good luck with that," I said. "You know, the baby."

You are dying to know the two words right? Brace yourselves:

Vaginal probe! (She was talking about her upcoming first ultrasound.)

Wow! I don't think I've ever heard that one before. I've had one before, but I've never really talked about it -- so openly. She was young -- a first-time mom. So, I felt for her. I don't know, maybe she just felt overly comfortable with me. Or maybe she forgot that she was bagging a strange woman's groceries who did not really need to hear those two words right before dinner.

I'm not the only one, am I? You have a grocery-story story yourself, don't you? I mean, I can't be the only one.