I'm Sorry, Mom.

I'm sorry I didn't send a card for Mother's Day. I know all you ever wanted was a simple card but it was the symbolism that you were always needing something more from me that kept me from mailing it. It was the stamp. I'm sorry, but it was the fact that hand-delivery wasn't as special.

I'm sorry for all the times I ignored your pleas for attention. Each time you would call with a 'I just need one thing' it would make me crazy. It was always 'just one thing' with you, but you never considered that each 'one thing' would add up to an entire afternoon of work for me. It wasn't that I didn't have time for you, it was that you didn't respect my time for me. You never understood why I just couldn't answer the phone sometimes. It wasn't that I was always that busy, it was that you made me crazy with your 'just one things'... I wish I had them back now. No matter how insignificant it seemed at the time, I would do it now in a heart beat.

I'm sorry I didn't take you places with me. It wasn't that you were too much trouble. It was that I was defeated every time I watched you self-destruct. It was like watching sands through and hour glass. Each moment was a fleeting chance that you would change your ways...but then it slipped away. Listening to you yell each time we went over a bump because you hurt would make me cringe. It wasn't that I wasn't sympathetic, it was quite the contrary. I felt helpless. I had done my best to be by your side through it all and yet it was all in vain.

I'm sorry I didn't answer the phone when you called. It wasn't that I didn't want to talk to you, it was that when you would call and were in good spirits, I was uplifted and defeated at the same time. I knew that it was only a matter of time before your next episode and I would find you in the floor again. It was the knowing that hurt.

And now, I am so sorry that I couldn't save you. Every time you had an episode, I had found you. I had saved you. You had laid there, in and out of consciousness, until I found you. The doctors would say, "She's not going to pull out of this one." But I knew you would. Because you had the same spirit I do. Telling us no has always been our driving force to press on. Insisting that we couldn't do something was like a dare. But now here I am. Helpless. You always said I was your angel...but now what?!

The past few years has been rough on us both. Once I gave birth, I realized what a gift it truly was and how you had squashed it. You didn't capitalize on the opportunity to be my mother. You tried, but failed due in part to your vices. You always had to have something to depend on and I guess ultimately, I'm mad that I wasn't enough.

So I am sorry. I am sorry for all the missed opportunities for me to show you grace. But ultimately, I am sorry that you missed me.

I love you now as much as I always have. You will be missed more than you would have imagined. This is hard, and it will hurt. But one day it won't be so bad. One day I will forget the bad times and focus on the good. I will remember you fondly as I tell the boys stories about 'crazy nana' and they will giggle. They will remember you well.

I miss you terribly and love you deeply.

Rest in Peace.

Crotchety Old People Suck...

Steve had finally found the perfect house. It was all brick, with an open living room, dining room and kitchen and the enormous bonus upstairs! Absolutely perfect...except for the neighborhood.

He's adamant that I come to NC immediately to see this house. "It's a gem! It won't last long!"

"Sweetie, why are the HOA dues $110 per month if there's no pool, playground, or anything?"

"They say it's for yard maintenance. I don't know. It doesn't matter. The house is perfect!"

So I go. Well, WE go.

It's a damn retirment community. No joke. Nothing but crotchety people waiting to die. That's it. I point this out to him and his first response is, "Great! We'll have plenty of babysitters that are missing their grandkids!"

So I start my fact-finding mission...talking to neighbors. The first nice couple told me that their grandson would have someone to play with. The second old man yelled at Beaux for touching the mirror in the house that was for sale. The third old woman said that they don't allow play equiptment in the yards and that there was a wonderful house two doors down that we should check out. Every one of them kindly offered that there was a lovely neighborhood next door with plenty of kids.

Nice.

I hate crotchety old people. If you're going to be crabby, go be crabby in your own 'villa' and leave the rest of us alone.

Jesus and Santa

We always have the best conversations on the way home from church.

Me: "So, did you guys talk about Jesus in Sunday school today?"
Beaux: "Yeah."
Me: "Did you know Jesus was once a little boy just like you?"
Beaux: "Wealwy?"
Me: "Yes. He was a baby and grew up to be a man. He saved all of us."
Beaux: "So he and Santa were like me?"
Me: "Sure. Buddy."

I give up.

Kudos to Daddy

So the 'tropical storm' is officially here. Not much to report aside from a lot of rain and even more wind. In my opinion, it was nothing more than a good reason to have a spongebob marathon.

Steve saw it much differently. He got their swim suits on, grabbed the umbrellas and hit the puddles. They ran and played in the rain until the wind almost blew them down.

I took it as a perfect opportunity to have a cup of coffee in silence...

with spongebob on, of course.

Much Improved

No tickets, no chips, no brown trout. Yes, today has been much better.

Now we're just waiting on a hurricane to move inland. Good times. :)

Quite the day...

I knew it would be rough. I knew I would be rushing around last minute to get it all together. But I certainly didn't deserve the day that I am now trying to forget...

I get the boys up, dressed, fed and out the door at a reasonable hour and attempt to fight the current to get back home to clean and pack. (At that time of the day, it doesn't matter where you're going around Knoxville, it's always swimming upstream.)

On the way home, I realize that I am almost past due for an oil change. Ordinarily I would shrug that one off and hopefully remember it before Steve realized it. Immediately a memory pops in my mind that convinces me to take the time. -Steve went to get the oil changed in my Mazda and it was waaaay over due. Yes, I knew it. Not only did I know and had put it off, I took the little sticker out of the window so he wouldn't know... I know, baaaaad Amy. Anyway, he takes it in and then comes home to inform me that the oil wasn't that dirty. He sounded a little proud. I, unfortunately, was only half-way listening and piped up with, "Oh, yeah. That's because I put more in. Apparently, if you let it run out, you can just add more and skip the whole oil change thingy all together!" Truly it was one of those internal thoughts that you didn't realize had been verbalized until it was much too late. The glare was almost unbearable...

So, I stop. I stop at the slowest place on earth with the glimmer of hope that it would only take 30 minutes as they had promised over the phone. No such luck. An hour and a half later I am now twitching from the thought of this precious time that is slipping between my fingers...or some dirty mechanic's. Ug. It's killing me....

I finally make it home. Not only did I not bother to empty the suitcase from the last trip, I am throwing clothes from across the room and hoping the land inside! Honestly, I am a bit worried as I look back on it because I can't remember a single thing I packed. But it got done. I packed for 3 people, got a 2,663 square foot house show-ready, and made it out the door just in time to pick them up before nap time. All was looking good...

Then comes the trip...

The boys actually napped, not long enough, but it did give me some quiet time and saved me from "What's in that truck, momma? What about that one? And that one?" "Momma, what happens if that one gauge gets in the red?" "The car blows up." "Really momma? Are you kiddin'? You're kiddin' aren't you, momma?" "No son, the engine would explode." "Weeeaaawwwyyyy????" "I don't know. Ask your father."

The the movie started. Half way into the second round of Tom and Jerry, I see blue lights... You have to be kidding me. We've made it 4 hours and haven't stopped. They boys are happy and we're making great time. (Which is why the blue lights are here...)

Me: "Beaux, you know how you wanted to see a State Trooper? Well, here's your chance."
Beaux: "Why? Are you getting pulled over? What'd you do?"
Me: "I was speeding, son."
Beaux: "Ohhhhh. You're in trouble. Bet he gives you a ticket. Will he take you to jail?"

Cop: "License and registration, mam. So, what's the hurry?"
Beaux: "Hi, Mr. Officer! I'm Beaux!"
Me: "Um, officer, I was just keeping with the traffic. Didn't even realize I was speeding."
Beaux: "Mr. Officer. Mommy was peeding. Is she getting a ticket?"


So I get the ticket and a very stern "You have a MANDATORY court appearance in Greensboro on October 8th at 8:30 a.m. Do you have any questions?" Yeah, at this point I'm reeling. Does mandatory really mean mandatory or can I just pay a huge fine. I mean really, how in the hell am I going to report to court on a Wednesday morning in some county that is 4 hours from home?! But before I could ask any questions, my precious little boy says, "Mr. Officer. Would you like some goldfish? We have apple juice too!" "Um, no officer. I don't have any questions."

Nice. 85 in a 65?! Was I really going that fast?! And how in the hell did he catch me in the middle of all that traffic...hmmm...

...

So we get to Steve's apartment. At least it is all up hill from here. I've got help now! Steve always has the best chips and salsa so I run in the kitchen and dig in. That was one thing I had forgotten today...to eat. Before I could enjoy my first bite, I get a chip wedged between my tooth and gum behind my tooth. How does that happen, you ask...I have no damn clue. But I can verify that not only does it hurt like hell, it doesn't just slide back out. In fact, it has now been wedged in there for almost 4 hours now. The pain has subsided and I am just hoping it will figure it out on it's own.

But then comes the last straw. You might think that the previous events would have been it, but no. It is an "Amy Day". Oh yes... The boys decide after swimming that we will all get in the bath together. Fine. I could use a bath even if it does come with two little splashers. Or so I thought. Beaux gets out and Spruce starts turning red. Not the usual 'water's too hot' or 'I'm getting ready to scream'. Oh no. This was the 'pinching one off' red face. "STEVE!!! COME GET HIM! HE'S POOPING!!!" Did he make it in time??? Of course not. If he had, it would have ruined the roll we were on. The kid filled the tub. Brown trout everywhere. Sure, some sank, but most floated...yay. Good times.

Tomorrow will be better. I will bathe alone.

My Two Favorite B's

Okay, shocking as it may sound, I have only had to go upstairs to re tuck a certain someone once so far. It's kinda freaking me out.

First of all, granddaddy came over. This is always a special treat for the boys. Not just because they love him, but because he brings toys. Yes, loud ones. Thanks Granddaddy! However, I did manage to wear them out and then get them bathed before he came. It was a monumental task, but I achieved it. All we had left was the opening of the 'loudest toys in the world' and then a quick story and bedtime. (I had even pre-drugged them with Tylenol Cold to ensure we didn't suffer through another night of coughing...)

It was no use. The toys were the cars that you shake and they yell "Hey, show some respect Holmes!" and then peel off. Great... I've already hidden two of those that the Easter bunny brought... None the less, they graciously accepted his gift and Beaux didn't bother to tell him that he already had one of those. (Could he have possibly forgotten the long-lost Easter gift?!)

By the time the newness had worn off and they played 15 minutes of "Slinky Britches," which from what I can gather is a game where they run past Granddaddy and he tries to catch them, the reading of books commenced. This is almost always a guaranteed half hour event. But we survived that one too. All was looking in my favor. They even wanted him to tuck them in, so I was getting away without the traditional "lets stand in the driveway and wave to Granddaddy while he flashes his headlights at us" game. I was elated. I could taste that honey brown ale already!

But, alas, just as I sat down here to type, I heard the 'thump', which was quickly followed by the shuffle of bare feet on freize carpet. As anticipated, the sniffling of a stuffy head sleeping at the top of the staircase ensued. I had a feeling it was all going too well.

Just moments after resolving myself that I would just ignore it and put him back in bed when I was ready to go, I hear "momma"... Ug. Here we go. "Yes, son." "Mommma, I left my baby glubs down stairs and I really, really, really need him." "Okay, son. Come down and get him." "Momma, I got boogers." "So go blow your nose." "But momma, nuttin will come out!" "Um, okay. I'm not sure what else I can do for you." "Momma, I need you to pick them for me." (Good grief. Is it not enough that I carried the child for 9 months, nursed him for 12 months and allowed him to survive for 4 1/2 years?!) "Alright. Go upstairs."

Ah, the joys of motherhood. Boogers and warm Beer...mmmm.