There was once a girl who grew up in a very conservative family. One might venture to say she lived a somewhat sheltered life, although to say she was naive would not be quite accurate. She went to college and met all sorts of interesting people. All these different people – from small towns, the East coast and beyond… those who drank and/or smoked pot, those who did not… athletes, scholars, musicians… bookworms and slack-asses, gays and straight – all of these different people and their personalities helped mold and form this girl into a different person than she used to be. She took in the influence of their personalities, habits and passions to make her own decisions, form her own opinions and create a newer version of herself. After four years, she liked the person she’d become. She was more comfortable in her own skin and genuinely enjoyed her own company if no one else was around. She listened to music that spoke to her. She watched indie movies, where the cast members were relatively unknown, yet the story was incredibly powerful. She was creative and wrote from her heart.

And now she’s gone.

Oh, she still comes around now and then… here and there. But she isn’t here like she used to be. By now, the 20-odd years that have passed have been filled with even more people and experiences that have molded and shaped her into yet another version of herself. The younger version of the girl could be best imagined as the rocky face of a cliff – with definite depth, areas that jut out and force themselves against a clear blue sky in an announcement, “Look at this part of me!” As the wind and rain, all the elements can weather and change the rocky surface, she has changed. By now she is perhaps not so brash or bold against a blue sky, but smoothed over. A surface that is still strong, yet softer in its silhouette.

The girl – now a woman – now thinks more before speaking, has been made wiser through experience and never underestimates anyone anymore. She rarely trusts anyone unless they have proven that they can be trusted. She now has a much smaller “inner circle” of friends, where she used to take pride in the many she counted as close friends. Betrayal will make a person do that.

Every now and then, the woman will catch a glimpse of the girl – sparked by a word, a lyric a melody – and she will want to bring parts of that life back. Not to take over and change her life; rather to create a more complete version of who she is now -- to get back to her “roots.” And when she does this, she can share it with those who are important in her life now, so she can once again say, “Look at this part of me!” and hope they appreciate and love that as much as she does.

Hostage Situation

OK. So I took the boys and Kate to pick up a few (SALE!) items for our upcoming vacation. The item of choice in the boys' department was athletic shorts. They each became strangely attached to a pair that they HAD. TO. HAVE. These kids aren't necessarily hurting for shorts, but considering I've started thinning the herd every time I do laundry (because I nix the wearing of stained/ripped clothing. Imagine!) it couldn't hurt to supplement by one more pair each. And, they were on sale. Winner-winner, chicken dinner.

Throughout the remainder of our shopping adventure, the boys seemed to take turns ramping up Bobby and getting him all riled to screeching level. In a good way, though. Still, heads were turning. When we arrived home and the boys were beside themselves to get into those COOL, NEW SHORTS, I said... "No."

They were appalled.

"What?!?! What do you mean we can't have them?!?!"

I told them that their behavior in public had been obnoxious -- borderline atrocious. They would receive the shorts when their behavior changed for the better.

That was Sunday. Today is Tuesday. They're still not wearing the shorts.

Yesterday and today have provided damn-near a smorgasbord of obnoxious behavior. Granted, the weather is making people do crazy things -- because 95-100 degrees in 100 percent humidity does that to people. Still, there are three boys in my house who need to recall how to get... and keep... themselves under control. Period.

I had a fleeting moment of self-doubt this afternoon, and asked Lindy if I had completely lost my mind, holding three pair of shorts hostage. Not only did she champion my cause, she even offered a few good points that will work nicely into my prepared speech the next time one of the boys asks, "When do we get our shorts?"

Does anyone else think I've lost it? Would you (or have you) held back something strange from the kids until they stepped up the behavior?

10... 9... 8...

Lindy just texted "When do u leave for vacation again?"
As I responded with "A week from this coming Sunday," it hit me that Sunday is just three days away. Add the seven days, and with my spectacular math wizardry I realized we leave in 10 days.

Ten days until we jam-pack two cars and drive 24 hours to Key Largo, Florida. It really is a blessing that we are able to swing this trip. Vacations are the last thing on our budget list. So when Jeff found a condo at an oceanside resort for way inexpensive AND the rates don't fluctuate with high-and low-season, well... he snapped up the last week of July, as well as the week prior to Christmas. The thing is, it will not only be Florida in July, but extreme south Florida in July. Damn near Cuba kind of south. If our trip to Florida two spring breaks ago is any indication, all but one kid in our van will be pleasantly pacified with hand-held games and/or iPod entertainment -- providing we have our small power source plugged in for recharging. Bobby is the exception to the rule since, at just 2, he has no use for PS3's or iPods. I am considering hauling out an old LeapPad for him to play with, just so he's got something. (NOTE: Any suggestions on keeping a 2-yr.old happy on a 20+ hour car trip would be welcome. I am desperate at the thought of having an angry boy who has had enough of being strapped into a car seat for hours on end. I will employ almost any idea you can throw at me, just short of hiring a clown to make him laugh and create balloon animals for the entire trip. Because, you know... clowns can be kinda creepy.)

The two oldest kids will be driving the car, because unless we draw straws to see who gets strapped to the roof of the van, we are not all going to fit inside the van. I never in a MILLION YEARS expected to look longingly at 12-passenger vans, thinking "My God we could use one of those."

Since we will be doing beachy kinds of things, I'm guessing everyone will pack lightly. Swimsuits, t-shirts and sunblock will be the staples of our existence that week, so I don't have to drive myself jackass batty doing a bunch of laundry for packing. I plan to dig out our snorkel equipment and beach paddle set, so that's just one trip up into the attic. I may get out of town with minimal stress yet. I expect the REAL stress will hit around mid-week, when one of the kids (God-help-that-child!) is all, "I'm bored." Because, remember? It's going to be hot. And while I don't enjoy hearing complaints in pleasant weather, I will not field boredom complaints in that kind of heat. Not. Happening. I will be all "You know what? Counting grains of sand is a really awesome way to cure boredom," and require a written total by sunset.

Oh, I'm not really all that mean -- I'll let them round up to the nearest tenth.

Ten Random Shots of Summer... So Far

Around this time last summer, I chose 25 random photos and posted a glimpse of how we'd spent our time and fun things that happened. This year, however, since my camera now has not only a non-functional flash and a USB port that fell into the wrong hands (long story) I have been forced to document our summer on my Blackberry. Let's be clear about this: a Blackberry is awesome for making calls and keeping oneself organized. Taking photos? Not so much in the awesome category. But, hey... you make do with what you have. Here goes...

These two photos are from Jack, Charlie and Sam's Academic Achievement night. All three boys earned straight A's every grading period, thus landing them Principal's Honor Roll for the year. Sam is in the top photo, standing to the right of his good (and very tall) friend, Deonte. Jack and Charlie are smack-in-the-middle of their group in the bottom photo. They're the two who look like they are carrying on a casual conversation while, say, waiting for the bus.

In June, I had the opportunity to travel to my company's office in Greensboro, NC. I got to ride in the company jet. Very nice. After a day at the office in a variety of meetings, I checked in at my hotel and set out to explore the open-air mall across the street. I was delighted to find a nail salon that had walk-in appointments. So,... I walked in. And got a pedicure. It was blissful.

Happy, happy feet. :)

Jack, Charlie and Sam started baseball in late April/early May, if memory serves. It is now July, and we're just starting the final tournaments. This is a long, long time to be heading to baseball games -- several times per week. Especially if you are 2 and don't particularly understand the game, other than "swing, batterbatterbatter...SWING!" and "runrunrun...HOMERUN!" It helps to have a big brothers who, when they aren't playing, will sit and play in the dirt with you.

I saw this somewhere on the Internet and it totally cracked me up. It was titled, "Cat Storage." How can you NOT laugh?!?!

June 14, 2011. Jeff and I celebrated three years of wedded bliss and happiness. We shared our celebration with our "honeymoon baby." Seemed appropriate enough.

Bobby and Sam brushing a goat at the zoo. You don't even want to know how much hand gel I made them use afterward.

Jeff and Bobby on a bike ride. This was Bobby's first experience doing so, and you can totally tell by the expression on his face. This may very well be my new favorite picture of them.

Lastly, I took up knitting this year, and have settled into a niche of baby beanies. I love making them, and am tinkering with the idea of selling them online. In the meantime... if you need a baby gift, just let me know!

Today...
Jeff left for his usual 24-hr. shift at 6:30am. I got up, got ready for work, woke Bobby and got him ready to go to daycare. Dropped him off and talked him out of a crying fit because he didn't want me to leave him. Wanted to cry as I left daycare because I had to leave him there. Went to work and tried to shift my focus to two hefty-sized projects that need to keep moving forward. Ran errands at lunchtime, dealing with a temperamental van that only offers air conditioning on a whim -- usually NOT when it's sunny and hell-hot outside... like today. Arrived back at my office (a sweaty mess) and ate lunch at my desk. Happened to catch CNN at 2:12pm, seeing that the Casey Anthony verdict would be read at 2:15pm. Sat stunned in my chair from 2:16pm until, roughly, 3pm. I have wanted to cry since the moment I heard the words "not guilty" spoken from the clerk of the court. And I'm not talking tears of joy, either. Left work, drove to daycare (in my "Chevy Oven") to fetch Bobby. Got home long enough to change clothes, re-pack his backpack and fill water bottles with ice water. Headed to Sam's baseball game where we sweated ourselves into silly puddles in the late afternoon heat. Watched as they lost a close one, simply because they ran out their 1 hr, 50 min time allotment. Packed Sam and Bobby into the (still) hot van and we ran a couple of errands, picked up a modest fast-food dinner and went to the station to visit Jeff. Wolfed down said food as I tried to help Jeff corral Bobby, who was in FULL OUT RUN mode everywhere he went. Piled back into the van and drove Sam to get picked up by his dad. (Jack and Charlie were at a baseball game tonight, otherwise they'd have played into the mix as well.) Made the final drive toward home. On the way -- at precisely 9:21pm -- Bobby completely lost his shit when he realized Jeff still had the two pieces of "I-made-this" (artwork)we brought from school (a.k.a., daycare) today. He wanted those two papers back. Immediately. I tried to tell him in between his screaming sobs that Daddy wanted to put his artwork in his locker so he could think about Bobby while he was away tonight. Ummm... no. This kid was having none of that. So, we rolled into our neighborhood with the windows pretty much up, but not all the way (because it's still HOT in there, remember?). I had to do something to keep the evening walkers/runners from hearing his hysterical screaming fit. We pulled into the driveway and I carried a still-sobbing Bobby into the house, directly upstairs and got him ready for bed. He managed to pull himself together for a brief phone call to Jeff, where we asked him to please bring the drawings home in the morning. Bobby was still doing the staggered-breathing thing that kids usually do following a knock-down, drag-out, holy hell's bells fit. We sat and looked through one book before I put him into bed, gave him a kiss goodnight and told him how much I loved him.

Throughout my day... the entire crazy, busy, run-here, run-there, no time to sit down and relax day... especially with the tail end of said day punctuated by a 2-yr old's hysterical screaming fit over a paper plate on which he sponge-painted... NOT. ONCE. DID. CHLOROFORM. OR. DUCT. TAPE. ENTER. MY. FRAZZLED. MIND.

And when I bent down to kiss Bobby goodnight, I paused -- wondering how anyone, especially a mother, could ever fathom the thought of willfully harming a child. I looked at him laying with his bear and still couldn't wrap my mind around how a mother could not know where her baby is for a month, as she goes out drinking, dancing and getting tattooed. I lose my mind when I don't know where my keys are, or an important piece of paper. I left Bobby's room tonight, listening to the sound of his breathing -- and said a small prayer for Caylee Anthony, wishing her mother could have seen or felt all I was feeling for my own child at that moment.

I find myself with a few minutes before Jeff and I have our "date" on the patio... with a glass of wine each and a fire in the fire pit. The much-expected pops, booms and (minor) explosions are in the air, much to the dismay of Buddy. Hopefully his meds kick in momentarily and he'll be enjoying his high so much, that the fireworks will not bother him in the least. Ah, yes, the fireworks -- telltale signs of the 4th of July, when we celebrate our freedom and remember those who have fought/died (are fighting/dying) for the privilege. This brings me to the ironic realization that while the entire country is whooping it up, eating picnic fare until they are about to pop and setting fire to small explosions... there is at least one person who is faced with having her freedom revoked: Casey Anthony.

Yes, I have become swept up in this soap-opera of trial, often referring to the key players by name, as if I know them personally. I have looked at Caylee's sweet, innocent face in photographs so many times that my heart literally aches each time they air them anymore. And every time the courtroom cameras cut to Casey -- her gaunt face usually screwed into a malicious scowl -- I just want to slap her. Hard. Whether or not she actually did what she is accused of doing is something only she and God knows. Regardless, her negligence on some part is responsible for that precious child's demise. As a parent, I have felt the pressure of being "judged" -- whether by peers, my mother or the public in general. Case in point: dragging two pre-schoolers and a toddler to the grocery store one afternoon, where the three boys worked me down to my very last nerve. And to ice the cake, the two 5-year-olds unbuckled their little brother as I was smack in the middle of loading groceries at the check-out. Tell me there isn't another parent (or even childless adult) out there who wasn't passing judgement on me as I dashed from the check-out lane through the produce department, chasing a laughing toddler, trying to calmly/sweetly call after him... all the while sweating and swearing in my head.

Yes, I have felt judged. However, the microscope of judgement I felt placed under that day is nothing in comparison to what Casey Anthony must be feeling now. And, again... it's ironic that on a day of celebrating freedom in our country, there are 12 individuals who hold her freedom in their hands. Did she do it? Didn't she? Who did? I'm sure the verdict will come soon enough, but it's way too late for Caylee. I don't envy any one of those 12 jury members, because despite the weeks-long trial, all evidence is purely circumstantial. And no matter if the justice system finds her guilty or not, she will have to answer for her actions -- whatever they were or weren't -- later, under God's judgement.

In which I (almost) have no words

When I sat down to write this morning, I allotted enough time to bring me to 6:20am, at which point I need to continue getting ready for work. That left me a good 10-12 minutes -- a do-able amount of time.

However.

As I was leaving my home "news" page, I caught a teaser pertaining to Justin and Selena (presumably Bieber and Gomez) vacationing in Hawaii together. The copy read something about how they'd been "working their butts off" and needed some relaxation. Boy, do I ever understand that. The thing that made me stop reading was their ages: 17 and 18 respectively. I quickly flashed to what I had been doing as a 17-18 year old. It certainly wasn't vacationing in Hawaii with my boyfriend. In fact, I think the only vacation I took during that time period was a spring break trip with my best friend to visit my relatives in Texas. And even that was something we had to really plan, ask/beg for.

And the kicker? The last line of the article referred rather off-handedly to the couple also "hoping to spend some time with their families." So, this little romantic get-away to the islands is unchaperoned for the most part?

And society wonders why young stars end up so messed up (Hello, Lindsay Lohan) and there are reality television shows out there like "16 and Pregnant."

I think I've officially reached "old fart" status between my last post and today. Oy vey.

(P.S. -- End time is 6:27am, but I have to take into consideration the few minutes I sat staring at the computer screen in disbelief after reading that article.)