Coming Out

Since this is apparently confession week for me, I am debating on showing my real self to my 'flesh and blood' friends. For years they have seen me as a busy, kind of dingy mommy who dotes on her kids and loves her husband. But last December, something happened and I have changed. 

I started a blog.

My original and current intent of blogging is to work out emotions, creativity and have a a record of my days as a mom with young children--I know there are things I have already forgotten with my kids, I don't want to forget anymore. I made a very conscience to decision to keep the people I hung out with, conversed with and prayed with out of my new world. I continued life as usual but always thinking in the back of my head, I am so blogging about this heehee.

I did not expect to meet people on my bog. To be honest, I didn't even get the whole commenting thing until I started getting comments from people I never met and then, then I would read these new blogs and I felt a peculiar closeness and bond with the words and the author. The blogging community became more than text and photos but 'flesh and blood'.

A few months ago, I even met some bloggers in our area and it was fun. They were real breathing women, not lonely ax murders looking for their next victim. I liked them and I hope they liked me. The line of bloggy friends and 'face' friends was permanently blurred.

Now I cannot imagine going more than couple days with reaching out to the blogging world. It has become a part of my life. A much bigger part than I ever expected. I feel your joy and sadness, your laughter and tears with every bit of my heart--just like friends I see on a daily basis.

I have opened my heart and shared with my new friends almost as much as my 'face' friends. And now I feel like I am betraying my face friends. How can I tell the whole world via posts about how I  but can't talk to my friends and family? it just doesn't feel right. It feels like I am hiding a part of myself to some of the greatest people out there--my friends and family.

So I want to share my blog with my 'real' world. I know in my heart they will always accept me. I guess my biggest fear is that I worry what they might think of certain things and I might begin to edit my blog to make myself look good always, no matter what. And that is not my blog.

But I do want to share with my 'face' friends. I will never forget a conversation I had with a friend and we discovered with both felt the same about a political topic (politics are not something I will discuss on this blog as I have bloggy friends from both sides of the aisle, and well I am not writing a political blog). In a weird way, this issue brought us closer. So maybe my writing can open and share some issues with both my bloggy friends and my 'face' friends.

And now I'd like to ask bloggy friends--do you share your blog with friends? How did you tell them? Has your writing changed since the 'real world' found out? This inquiring blogger wants to know.

Thank you!!!

Is this karma?

Note: If you see me as a confident, caring, sweet, mom and want to continue to see me this way--skip this post and read one of my older ones. This post shows what a true nutcase I can be.

Our sermon yesterday was about lying--and this includes false flattery, gossip and just not being completely honest. I have to confess. I hold occasional grudges against some moms. Moms who bring snotty kids out in public. I even left a play group because of one mom who managed to bring a constant snotty son to our group every week. I was sick of being rude and snatching my daughter away from her son and I was not comfortable with the smugness I felt as I got a desperate call from the mom whose child played with the boy asking what natural things helped a horrible cough. I do not like that side of me and as a past post explains, I am trying hard to fight this.

So late last week, Spanky had his first major illness after joining the gym. He was throwing up, everywhere. I reeked, our bed sheets reeked, the house. reeked. badly. I did the 'right' thing; the thing I expect every mom to do. I stayed home. I say I do it because 1. I don't want to get other kids sick and 2. When a child is sick, they catch just about anything they come into contact with because immunity is busy fighting their current virus (see how much thought I put into this). But wait--let's be honest, there is a reason number 3. I do not want other moms to judge me the  way I have judged them. I don't want to be that mommy with the sick kids. I'd rather be the mommy who was once a Hooters girl and poised for Playboy (hey, at least we'd have a solid savings account). 

Fast forward to this morning--Miley has ballet workshop--her very pricey $45 a day ballet intensive workshop. She has a sore throat. She is tired. I have already skipped the gym--don't want her to catch something else or share it with the other kids--right?! But I am sitting her thinking, she needs to go to workshop. It is not every day--just a few days a week for three weeks. I also need to get out of this house. If I spend one more moment on this slightly reeking couch watching Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew (and pausing every other minute for a 'funny' pose), I am may very well stat pulling out my toenails. 

Overall Miley seems OK--she is eating, talking, laughing. She just isn't moving around as much. She gives me sad looks and tells me she can barely talk. No fever, no snot, no cough. Just a sore throat. I am telling myself, she will be fine. But what if she has the nasty sore throat I had a few weeks back. It was terrible and I would be terrible to send her out. And then there's the whole karma thing--what if she catches something even worse or gets all her friends ill? 

It's my sanity versus my illness fears. I don't know what I am going to do at this point. 

Sunday Story--Beyond the Velvet Rope

Martin Miller greeted us at the door. Inside, we saw a small yet tastefully decorated hall. A young girl appeared out of of nowhere and offered to get our bags. 

"Welcome," began the girl. "I'm afraid our suites are taken so you will need to stay at the Byron room.  It's right on the second level."

I was holding tight to Mike's hand. The out of the way bed and breakfast without a sign was small and looked more like a humble home than a place that provided accommedations for strangers.

Martin broke in, "We have cocktails in the main room tonight at seven."

We glanced to out left and saw the main room and pretty much gasped. I am not sure how I would describe this room. It was like looking at a well preserved room from the seventeenth century in a museum but without the velvet rope to keep you out. It turned out Martin Miller was involved in the world of beautiful antiques. My fear of being robbed or kidnapped was quickly replaced with the fear of breaking a hundred year old vase.

Martin quickly disappeared as the young girl checked us and filled us with the details of the bed and breakfast. She also asked how we found the bed and breakfast--we mentioned Captain Bucko, and we climbed the tiny stairs to our room.

The Byron room was yellow and blue and once again, tiny. The difference, just about every item in the room was a lovely antique. Even the giant quilt on the bed looked different. The one weird thing--the bathtub was also antique. Clawfooted and stand-alone, the tub was beautiful  but I was more concerned as to how I was going to shower--dragging bags through the Tube is a workout, trust me.

When the girl left the room, we began to unload our bags.

"See, "Mike grinned. "I told you."

"Yeah, yeah," I smiled and gave him a kiss.

After finding a way to clean up in the tub, we got dressed and decided to check out the cocktails downstairs. We were expecting one or two people, but let me tell you the place was packed. And these folks were dressed. We walked in and were handed wine. Really, really really, good French wine. 

My ever social new husband began to introduce himself to the various guests, almost all good friends of Martin stopping by before hitting the town. In about 20 minutes, we met a publisher, author, artist, professor and other incredibly interesting people. At moments I felt like we were in a different world, sitting on a chair more than likely 200 years old, drinking some awesome wine and speaking with truly successful Londoners. We were beyond the infamous velvet rope. There was no other place we wanted to be but then we were hungry.

We ended up bidding farewell to the guests as checked out the Brazillian Meat restaurant next to the b and b. When we arrived, we were a bit nervous. The place was fairly empty and it was 7:30 pm. Our fears were reduced when we saw the food. Maybe Britain wasn't into the big stick of meat. But by nine, the place was standing room only with a line out the door. Again, we noticed the lingering diners that were engrossed in their conversations-not their plates. We decided to do as they did and lingered at our table soaking in the atmosphere and our own conversation.

Back at the b and b, cocktail hour was still going strong with new guests. After our long trk through London and knowing we wanted to hit lots of sights the following day, we opted to head to our room. 

By midnight, I am pretty sure every actor and actress who performed on London's West Side was in the main room. There was singing (incredible singing even if I was tired), laughing and crashing of empty bottles dumped in the trash. We both fell asleep to the sounds, almost like a lullaby.

In the morning, we saw empty bottles everywhere as I young boy was setting up for breakfast. The breakfast room was sadly nothing special but they had some quick meals and we were pleased. (Side note--the website shows a breakfast room now--we did not have this; guess we need to go back). Our breakfast companion was a younger man from Colorado. He was on business regarding an internet start up he was working on.

"Can you believe you found this place?" he began as he took a swig of his coffee (the coffee was in beautiful tea cups).

"No, "Mike laughed. "how did you hear about it?"

"My boss has a friend who knows the guy. And you?"

So we told our new friend the tale of Captain Bucko. He listened and then stood up, grinning.

"That's so cool," he shook our hands and left. He was in a hurry to get to a flight.

I looked over at Mike and noticed he had yellow streaks in his hair. Apparently, antique pillows should not be laid on after a shower. 

After cleaning off some fabric bleeds, we headed off for a day of site seeing. We had to see as much as possible--we would be joining our tour in Zurich tomorrow. And who knows who else we might meet?

10 Years?! Are you sure?

It was ten years ago, my life changed forever. Everything that happened before those ten years is a blur, seriously. It was ten years ago my first child, the beat of my heart, Miley was born.

I honestly am in shock even writing these words. Can my little baby, the result of the shocking two lines, be ten? Was it really ten years ago when we were faced with an emergency caesarean? Ten years ago that we learned what colic really was? Ten years ago I learned I could love someone as much as my soul mate? Ten years that I truly learned what it was like to feel the unconditional love of something so small yet so powerful?

Yes, the smiling face next to me nods, TEN YEARS.

Here's your letter butternut!

Miley,

You are growing so fast now. I have to admit the days have passed more quickly than when you were a very loud baby but I'm sure not quick enough for you! You have been counting down to this day for months. Two digits--wow--you've graced the world with your sunshine for ten years. Our world has never been brighter :)

You still have an earnest desire to be a fashion designer. Your sketch book is overflowing with dresses, swatches and various designs. You have your sights set on going to the Savannah School of Art and Design. You want to live in Italy and design the world's greatest fashions. And I know if this is what you really want, nothing will stop you.

Your second passion is reading. You are hooked on your Nancy Drew books (the theme of your slumber party) and love watching Nancy Drew shows with your sister. You love a good mystery!

Ever the social butterfly, you are almost always with a friend, talking on the phone to a friend or on your way to see a friend. And you are a good friend. You always think of their happiness when making plans--you are a joy to all you meet! Currently your favorite friends are Claire, Hope, Paige and Hannah. 

You are still in dance. You love jazz and are sick of ballet. You don't care for math but love your literature. School can be a challenge but when you try and do your best, you always succeed.

And of course, you are a great sister! The boys adore you and Sarah wants to be just like you. Dino calls you his 'best friend'. You are blessed to have three great siblings and they are pretty darn lucky to have you as their big sister :)

I am so happy to be your mom. I love watching you grow and I cannot wait to see what this new decade of life will bring to you. The next time your age ends in a zero, you will be in college. I am continually amazed in all you do and I am forever crazy about you :)

Love,

Mommy

PS- I love that you still call me mommy and cuddle with me some nights--try not to grow up too fast :)

A Ten Year Old Girl's Slumber Party

9 pm

The Mystery has been solved, the pizza devoured and the decorations ripped down.

The delicate, sweet angels discover you can make little holes in the balloons and make 'tooting' noises. Next hour is spent with very obnoxious sounds, giggles, sreams and yep, the smell of the real thing added in the mix with everyone swearing they didn't make the stink bomb. I am betting they ALL did it ;)

10 pm

Time to relax with some '70s TV featuring the theme of the party, Nancy Drew mixed in with some Hardy Boys.

"Does she kiss Frank?"

"I want to see her kiss Frank."

"Did I miss them kissing?"

"I thought they kissed in this one."

"Is there any more cake left?"

"We all want more cake. Please."

After finishing off the rest of the cake......

"Can I fix your hair?"

"Only if I can fix yours."

"Can you do mine too?"

"Who tooted now?"

"Shhhhh...I think they are going to kiss."

11 pm

The only light is coming from the TV. The hair accessories are put away. Mommy and daddy are t-i-r-e-d.

"I don't want to watch any more Nancy Drew. I am getting scared."

"My four year old brother watches this show and he's scared of Dragon Tales."

"I don't know how to take out my contacts."

"Can I call my mom to wish her a good night?"

"Could I too?"

"And me?"

"I need to too."

"Can I use your iPhone Mrs.verybusymomwith4?"

"How do we get it to play music?"

"Can I send my friend an email?"

"How do I buy songs?"

More tooting noises as the rest of the balloons are discovered complete with screams.

Midnight

The TV is playing 'Camp Rock'--if it puts mommy to sleep, just maybe it work with the kids.

"If there are any more words or giggles, the TV is off," the very tired daddy warns.

Giggles, whispers, nothing. Giggles, whispers, nothing. Laughter, talking, nothing. Screams, shouting, nothing. Daddy is asleep.

1 am

Balloon races begin by letting air out (to make that great noise) and letting them fly across the floor.

"Girls, you need to get into your sleeping bags. It is late," the sweet but tired mommy enters the room.

"Mrs. Verybusy, I lost my contact. Can you help me?"

"I'm thirsty."

"Is there any more cake left?"

Mommy helps and goes back to bed unaware of the giggles and races in the other room.

2 am

Mommy and daddy are roused out of bed by louder laughter and the cries of a no longer sleeping baby (a baby that can sleep through a hurricane). 

"My record is 3 am."

"My record is 4:30."

"My record is all night."

"All right", the daddy is back in the room. "Lights out no discussion of records, no more races, no more giggling, no more smiling. Eyes shut, TV off and GO TO SLEEP."

Soft laughter as mommy and daddy drift back to sleep.

7:00 am

Knock on the door. Phone ringing. Girls destroying home.

Mommy and daddy "Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz........"

The rest is, obviously, a haze.

Sunday Story--How Could You Tell We Were Americans?

After being formally introduced to the entire hotel lobby, we were ushered up to our 'suite' by not one or two but three clerks. The room was the size of most small motel rooms, absolutely not the dream suite we envisioned. With five people in the room, it was a little too cozy for my big Texas taste.

The first clerk began to put up our bags on the respected stands while the 'lead' clerk began to describe the features of the room. The third clerk, a young gentleman was a male British version of a 'Price is Right' model as he would display and demonstrate the different items in the room. 

"This is your tele, "she said as clerk #3 opened the cabinet and displayed a remote. "You can see it comes with a remote control. The ON button is here and you will find a guide here."

We watched clerk #3 move seamlessly pointing out each thing she mentioned. They had to have done the routine at least 50 times a week. They had a freaky twin connection going. It was plain spooky.

Once they slowly left (unlike Americans who are fairly blunt about the tip, they just moved slower until you stopped them), I plopped on the bed wanting to catch some zzzzs since I had very little sleep on the flight.

"You can't do that, "Mike said pulling me out and grabbing my coat. "Remember we have to stay up to get out bodies used to the time change."

"A couple of hours wouldn't hurt anyone."

Mike shook his head and opened the curtains to reveal a lovely British Park.

"Look, it's London, Across that park is Buckingham Palace and the Queen of England. We can't sleep now. If we're paying this much for this room--we should at least enjoy it."

I sighed, "Well I am hungry."

He grabbed his coat and we made our way via the smallest elevator ever made to the lobby.

Our doorman, who still remembered us, suggested pub down the street for a proper British lunch.

We got there; Mike had fish and chips; I had a leek soup. We felt British until we ended our meal and made our very first discovery about Europeans.

Europeans it appeared went to restaurants to talk and be social; to enjoy people. We Americans on the other hand are more like pigs at a trough-- food, bill, pay,  home. Mike and I wolfed down the meal and waited patiently for our bill. We waited and we waited. Finally we flagged down our waiter and asked for the bill. He looked dumbfounded for a minute and then quickly brought the check. Apparently he had not waited on many Americans in his day.

Then we decided to make the quick skip across the park and see Buckingham Palace. I was worried it would a somber occasion as Princess Diana had been killed three weeks before our visit but beside a few handfuls of bouquets propped up by the gates (and a few tears from me), all was well and cheery at the palace.

We glanced around looking for where to get to tickets when we spotted the ticket counter to our left. We were amazed no one was in line. We scurried right up to the counter and asked for two tickets to the palace.

"Americans?" the lady at the counter asked.

Mike smiled, "Yes, how could you tell?"

"Line jumping for one," someone shouted behind us.

We turned and so a line of at least fifty people a good twenty feet from  the counter. We had done it again.

Mike and I looked at each, not sure what to do. It was too late to go in line, we had  our tickets and we didn't want the world to think the 'colonists' were social morons. It was too late--they did, So we grabbed the tickets and looked down at our feet as we went inside.

*************************

Back at the hotel, the conversation came back to Captain Bucko and the bed and breakfast.

"We can't afford this Lisa, "Mike pleaded.

I sighed looking out at the park from our window. We were living across from one of the most known women in the world. It was true--we could not afford it.

Mike continued, "If we stay, we can forget about doing anything outside the tour later on and the tour only includes two meals a day. I don't want to be broke on our honeymoon."

"I'm just scared it's all a big set-up. I mean who is that nice."

"People are nice for the most part. I really trust him (Captain Bucko)."

I pulled out the number he gave us and handed it to Mike.

He spoke for a good 15 mintues and then hung up.

"He sounded great Lisa and they have a nice room we can have. He gave us directions. They are right off the tube."

The tube is the British subway system and believe it or not, very nice, as compared to ours in the States at least.

"Well let's at least enjoy this night here,"I mumbled, not too pleased with what we were about to do.

Mike smiled and then proceeded to make arrangements to leave in the morning.

*********

After a quick goodbye to our ever helpful doorman who still called us by name, we journeyed to a whole different part of London through the Tube carrying a multitude of bags to Notting Hill. I do not recommend it. At one stop, a young lad tapped Mike on his shoulder and told him he should hide his designer watch in his pocket. I did not feel good about this.

We got to our stop and proceeded down a small street behind a Brazillian Meat Restaurant. Across from what looked like a Thai type 'dive' (trashy restaurant), was the bed and breakfast. Small and assuming, I was wishing we had one of .45s everyone seems to think Texans always carry.

Mike walked up the steps and told me, we could always leave if things did not feel right. I was ready to walk, no, sprint even before the door opened.

He knocked on the door and a middle age, well dressed but stylishly unkept man opened the door revealing a very tiny hall. Mike shock his hands and introduced himself and mentioned Captain Bucko. I bit my lip and stood beside him.

What is in the Miller's  Bed and Breakfast? Will we join our tour  later on or does danger lie ahead? Also, can we prove to Europe Americans aren't really that rude? Find out next week :)

Feel Good Friday on a Saturday

I'm joining the party at Elizabeth's a little late but it's all good, I hope ;)

This week, I am thankful and feel good because:

I have a roof over my head. Recently I have been dealing with the green eyed monster as I watch friends move up and up while we stay in our same home but ya know, we have a house and this is a blessing :)

My kids are wonderful and loving even if they do have their moments. If they did not have some bad moments, I would never truly appreciate the times they are beyond incredible--does that make any sense?

I finally got my car inspected and its well check complete. They found a few issues covered by the warranty that is about to expire so thank goodness I didn't hold off! Also, I got their wagon as a loaner and I loved it. This SUV mama who never wants a mini-van may be considering that wagon in her future. 

I am staying in a very good shopping budget. I still shop organic and Whole Foods but I am being more and more careful. I have found some great tips here (my tip is on  here if you can find it!) and here. (I am also so happy to have found another Whole Foods fan.)

My husband has offered to get me the 3G iPhone; my iPhone still works but the ringer only works when plugged into our sound system. I am going to hold off as long as possible but it's still nice to know he would do that for me :)

Dino is thriving in the 4 year old summer 'camp' :)

I got to go back to my spinning class after a crappy virus!

And now I hope everyone reading has an incredible, awesome, perfect week ahead!!! The blog world is filled with some of the nicest people I know--and that is something to feel good about :)