She is back.
There is always a noticeable shift in my husband’s demeanor when he begins seeing her again.
She is back.
There is always a noticeable shift in my husband’s demeanor when he begins seeing her again.
Trying my hand at a Daily Prompt: Third Rate Romance
My college friends love this story so I figured, why not share the embarrassment with the rest of you…again!
Here goes nothing…I re-present to you, “California Love”
At the beginning of my Junior Year, I started dating a guy from one of my classes. Let’s call him Detroit Red (DR). Nothing serious but, we had fun and there was no drama until…
One Saturday night, I was hanging out with my fiery friend, Butterfly :-). At the end of the night, I asked her if we could make a quick stop at Detroit Red’s apartment. He had recently moved closer to campus versus the country estate he previously shared with his roommate so, made sense to drop by, right? I went to college in the early 90’s, no one I knew had a cell phone so, there was no calling ahead. Butterfly agreed to stop. The plan was for me to run up to say hello, since I was in the area and my apartment was on the opposite side of town. Harmless enough, right?
Let me set the scene for you…
Detroit Red’s apartment complex was a converted motel. He and his roommate lived in the middle apartment on the second floor but, the steps to the second level were on the side of the building. I got out of the car, walked to the side of the building, headed up the stairs and continued around the corner to DR’s place. I knocked on the door and his roommate peeked out of the window and opened the door so I could only see his face. Hmmmm.
Me (a little confused): Hey, Roommate. Is Detroit Red home?
Roommate: Hey, Slim (back in my off campus living days, I actually WAS slim and in shape! I was also on the Broke College Student Walk Everywhere Diet). Naw. He isn’t.
Me: What’s up with you? You alright?
Roommate: Yeah, I’m good.
Me: Okay. Just tell DR I stopped by.
Roommate: Alright girl.
He closed the door and I headed to the stairs (again they were located around the corner). I walked down the stairs to find Butterfly trying to get my attention and yelling at me from the car. I hurried toward her to find out what was happening. Butterfly told me that while I was coming down the steps, A GIRL opened the Detroit Red’s door and looked to see where I went. Now, I didn’t see the girl and for all Butterfly knew she was Roommate’s girlfriend. However, that never crossed my mind. I only reacted.
Without a second thought and my adrenaline pumping (mixed with the daiquiri I had earlier), I dashed back up the stairs taking two at a time (I was slim and in shape, remember?) and ran to Detroit Red’s door. I banged on the door hard with my fist like I owned the place and they had been late with the rent. Roommate (who at this point I’m sure was thinking, really? I’m trying to play this video game!) opened the door to a crack AGAIN but, this time I KICKED THE DOOR OPEN.
No one saw that coming…not even me!
I stormed into the room as Detroit Red (clothed) jumped to his feet. He walked toward me and started to tell me to calm down. The Girl, let’s call her California immediately started screaming at Detroit Red, shouting all the questions you ask when you find out you aren’t the only girl your guy is dating. But instead of letting him respond, I loudly hijacked the conversation. I headed to his dresser and started grabbing all the things I bought DR (which obviously wasn’t that much, I was a Broke College Student).
I was so focused on yelling and running around like a lunatic grabbing things that I hadn’t really looked at California. When I actually got a chance to see what this girl looked like I felt like I had been punched in the gut. Lord! Wait a minute? Is this really happening?
I turned to DR and said, “C’mon, really? Ugh”. And slammed the door as I left.
Monday rolled around and I headed to my 9 AM class. In this particular class, we had to sit in alphabetical order of your last name. Guess who had been sitting behind me the ENTIRE semester? California! I think I threw up in my mouth when I saw her in the daylight. Never noticed her before but, I couldn’t ignore her now. The entire class I could feel her saucer like eyes on the back of my head as I tried my best to concentrate. After 50 agonizing minutes, the class was finally over. Only 45 more actual classes to go… I gathered my backpack, applied a fresh coat of Carmex and lip gloss, and got up to leave. Of course, California was waiting for me outside the classroom. Fun times.
California: We need to talk.
Me (my attitude was SO off the charts at this time): About what? I said all I needed to Saturday night.
California: How long have you been seeing him? Have you talked to him?
Me: Since the beginning of last semester. He called me a bunch of times yesterday. He never mentioned you…ever.
California: He called me too. But he lies so much. What did he say?
Me: That he was sorry and it was a mistake.
California (cutting her gigantic eyes at me): Well, he told me he wanted to be with me.
Me: That’s nice. I have another class.
I walked away. Later that night, Detroit Red called. I wasn’t about to LOSE to this girl. At this point, it was ALL about my ego. In my mind, I was the better choice. Plain and simple.
Me: Listen, California and I talked today. Did you know we are in the same 9 AM? Now, I have to see her every Monday, Wednesday, AND Friday. I’m not dating you if you are seeing her, so choose. Me or her?
Detroit Red: I choose her.
Huh? Dazed, I asked again.
Me: Did you hear me? I said me or her?
Detroit Red: I heard you. I PICK HER!
The room started spinning, I thought I was going to pass out. My heart was beating out of my chest. Did he just say he picked her over me? Seriously? This time I felt like I had been KICKED in the gut. I hung up the phone. Defeated and embarrassed.
What I learned from that experience:
I was the side chick and didn’t know it.
Make your own decisions, don’t allow someone else to control your destiny.
Obviously, I survived. Sure, every time I saw Roommate he reminded me of the time I slammed their door so hard I shook the entire second floor and sure one of California’s Friends tried to run me over with her car… but, it could have been worse.
Good thing I ran track. 🙂
When I was pregnant with GeorgiaPeach (GP), the Coach and I decided that we aka I would breastfeed our Little Peach. I made him promise me that if I wanted to quit he would remind me of the commitment I made to our family and to stay with it. Sounded simple enough to us. What could possibly go wrong?
We took a breastfeeding class. I read books and asked my Circle of Moms who had breastfed successfully and (not so successfully) what I could expect. I was as prepared as I could be. One emergency C-Section later, I was in the breastfeeding business or…so I thought.
It was a rough start for me. I was nursing GP on demand as you should but, I didn’t realize she didn’t need to nurse for an unlimited amount of time! My precious baby was channeling Clubber Lang, kinda like this scene from Rocky III.
After going to my corner and spending 3 days feeling like a human pacifier, unlike Rocky, I was ready to throw in the towel. Can I order some formula, please? And that was when all of my ‘I Just Had A Baby And She Depends On Me To Eat’ emotions came to the surface and I broke down.
Me (crying): I quit! I’m not breastfeeding anymore. I don’t know what I’m doing. And IT HURTS! Did I miss someone telling me that part?
The Coach (very concerned and looking for the slightest symptoms of Postpartum Depression): What happened?
Me (still crying): I don’t think GP is getting enough to eat, I am still waiting for my milk “to come in” and I miss my Mom! Listen, before you even start with me, I don’t have PPD so stop looking at me like that, this is normal, I JUST HAD A BABY! And no, I do NOT want to harm myself or our child, okay? I know there are other symptoms but trust me I’m fine, exhausted but, fine.
The Coach: Okay. But Babe, you don’t want to quit. You and I both know it. You are doing great, GP is definitely filling up these diapers so she is getting fed. I don’t know what you are feeling but, I will do everything I can to help and support you. Should we call someone?
The Coach: Wait. It hurts?
Me (exhausted): I don’t know who else to call! I’ve called Jesus, my Friends, the Lactation Consultant from the hospital AND I emailed the instructor from the class. I have one more day left in me and that is it!
So…I didn’t quit, my milk ‘came in’ the next morning (the way I found out was pretty hilarious but, I will spare everyone the details) and I successfully breastfed GP for the next 11 months. 🙂 But the point of this entire post is that the I felt slightly bamboozled by the masses.
Breastfeeding hurts…in the beginning.
Now, before you go all Lactation Consultant on me, hear me out.
As a first time natural “provider” of nourishment to a newborn, I had never (ahem) used my lady parts in such a capacity or as much in a short time span. Know what I mean? Even when you are doing it correctly you will be sore, in the beginning. And I had cooling pads, creams, a nursing pillow, a comfy chair, etc! The whole process took some getting used to and I was reminded that we were both learning what to do. Obviously, a number of women are not able to breastfeed for various reasons so, I get it. You have to do what works for you and YOUR family. Period.
So…I said all of that to say…if you are thinking about breastfeeding or if you just started, the truth is you will be sore and there will likely be some pain but, the experience was one I would never trade. Once I relaxed and settled in, GP and I started to work together. The pain DID go away and the experience transformed into what I envisioned all along, our first collaborative effort. 😉
Breastfeeding, in the words of Rocky Balboa, “You ain’t so bad”.
Happy Flashback Friday! 🙂
This year marked my first Valentine’s Day…with a Preschooler. A week before the big day, GeoriaPeach’s Teacher sent the Parents an email with some details for the celebration:
The party would be small and just for the kids (the last few parties families attended)
Send Valentine’s Day cards with your Child’s name in the from column only and,
Respond via email if you would be sending a treat for the class.
Perfect! Sounds easy enough.
I responded to GP’s teacher indicating that I would send some brownies bites (my contribution in ensuring the kids went home with the right amount of sugar). Now, before you judge me…I have been VERY good with sending wholesome snacks for celebrations and parties. I thought, a couple of brownies won’t hurt, right? I pulled out some old Valentine’s Day cards I had lying around the house, signed them with GP’s government name and put them in her bag for school. Simple enough for a class of 7 two year-olds, right?
Oh, Clueless Mommy, when will you learn??
When I walked into GP’s classroom to pick her up I was horrified to see ALL the cute gifts (she even got a book) and treats she had gotten from her classmates! They wouldn’t even all fit in her book bag.
All I sent were cheesy Sports Themed cards, which aren’t exactly a reflection of her current interests or activities. Boo! She loves ballet, Doc McStuffins and Bubble Guppies.
But the absolute best part of the day was this conversation with GP’s Teacher.
Teacher: You guys must not give GP donuts?
Me: No, it is a pretty rare occasion if she has one. Why? What happened?
Teacher: Well, one of the Parents brought in some Munchkins for our party. She ate 3 of them right away so, we had to cut her off. We cleaned her face and clothes, she had powdered sugar all over.
Me (laughing): Oh, Lord!
I turned to look at GP, she and the other girls were running around in a circle out of control. I guess the other Mom thought, a couple of donuts won’t hurt, right?
I felt like Ricky Bobby.
When I became a Mommy, there were many things I looked forward to experiencing as a parent. But, there was one thing the Coach and I decided on up front that he would take the lead on when the time was right.
Watching animated movies with Georgia Peach(GP).
Couple of little known facts about me…
I accept your judgement. 😉
The latter truly baffles The Coach. From time to time, he will see a title to one of these “amazing” movies and ask me with the tiniest bit of hope the SAME question only to be disappointed with my response, “No, I haven’t seen that movie, either.”
Sure, I have seen a couple since becoming an Adult but, I can count the ones I have watched from start to finish on one hand.
As a side note, we are aware that in a game night situation if the category of Disney or Animated movies comes up, I can offer limited assistance. The problem is that we are pretty competitive and have been known to randomly practice different trivia categories so we are ready to win when we get the call. So, I’m not sure what is more disturbing, the fact that we practice or that we haven’t actually been invited to a game night as a couple. We obviously need some friends here otherwise we will have to keep traveling to FL and IL to play with our family. 🙂
Back to these movies…so, my thought was that when Georgia Peach was old enough to see one of these movies, I would buy the tickets for them. Their first Daddy/Daughter Movie Date, cute right?
Obviously, I am too slow for them. Check out one of the gifts GP got for Christmas from her Daddy, a DVD. I suppose it doesn’t matter that she hasn’t seen the first movie of the series?
At any rate, I guess she was old enough on Wednesday. And so, it begins…
This year, I decided to celebrate my Mother’s birthday by doing something to honor her memory! My Cousin Unfiltered (she has this name for obvious reasons) pointed out to me on our beloved Grandma’s birthday this year, “Birthdays are to be celebrated.” And with that simple yet, poignant statement a fresh perspective and new tradition was born. On my Grandma’s birthday this September, I did a little something in honor of her and I thought on my Mom’s birthday (December 2) it would be cool if I learned how to make a cake from scratch. 🙂
My Mom made some things from scratch + she was a great Mother = I will instantly become a great Mother upon making this cake. 😉
Baking is not a bad skill to have, right?
I will be able to teach Georgia Peach (GP) how to bake from scratch too!
All good reasons in my book so, I set out to make it happen.
First, I looked through the cookbooks and recipes my Mom and Uncle gave me to see if I could find a simple white cake recipe. Couldn’t find one. So, I took to the internet and came across a recipe. Red Velvet Cake. Yes! I thought, ‘if I can make this cake, my baking status in the family would most definitely elevate PLUS it requires fancy red food coloring…sweet!’
Now, I’m excited! I printed off my list for the grocery store and headed out to gather my ingredients. Since I am known to glance over recipe instructions when I should be paying attention to the details this time I actually noticed that I needed to sift the flour. Umm excuse me, sift you say? I don’t have a sifter, maybe I should have registered for one of those when we got married? Looks like I am getting one of those as well. Vamonos!
While at the store with GP, we weaved in and out of the 3 aisles dedicated to baking, like we are braiding hair. First the aisle with flour, then the aisle with the baking tins and next the one with the cocoa then back to the flour aisle…mainly because I was obsessed with getting the exact ingredients, I am not ready nor equipped to substitute things yet. We paid for the groceries and headed back home…without a sifter.
Now, I’m not sure who occupied my body earlier in the day but, I had dinner ready for The Coach (with two options) by the time he hit the door at 5 p.m. This allowed me to dedicate the majority of my evening to my cake project so, I was able to run to another store solely to locate and purchase a sifter. After feeding, bathing and putting GP to bed I began to prepare my work space for my latest masterpiece. I pulled all of my ingredients out and placed them on the counter. When I reached for the vegetable oil, I discovered we didn’t have enough for the recipe.
Focused and determined…I headed back to the store!
I returned home and jumped in, only to realize the eggs needed to be room temperature! I took 2 eggs out and laid them on the stove that had been pre-heating for about an hour now to help speed up the process. In the meantime, I decided to start measuring out my dry ingredients. I packed them ALL at once into the sifter measuring cup and tried to sift it. This was my first time using a sifter aka the devil’s kitchen instrument, I had no clue what I was doing outside of making a mess! Finally, I figured it out and saw why it was needed, those dry ingredients combined were as smooth as box cake mix. Nice!
Now, we are getting somewhere or so I thought.
As I moved to the wet ingredients, the recipe as clear as day, said the buttermilk should be at room temperature too! SERIOUSLY? I took it out of the refrigerator and put it in a warm bowl of water when my phone rang. It was my sweet Aunt J, checking on my progress and reassuring me that the cake would turn out fine. 🙂 I gave up on the room temperature buttermilk, the eggs were the appropriate temperature now, so in my mind it would all balance out. Ha! I combined the wet and dry ingredients with my mixer and poured the batter into 2 round tins and put them in the oven.
26 minutes later…my first cakes from scratch were finished! Once the cakes were cool, I flipped, frosted and presented my masterpiece to my Husband who at this point had been asleep for nearly 2.5 hours. It was now midnight. The only way to determine if it was all worth it was to get Mikey er the Coach to “try it”.
The Coach: This is good. Can I get a glass of water?
Me: I thought you said it was good and moist, why do you need something to drink?
The Coach: Because you just woke me up to eat cake, I’m thirsty.
I tried it for myself and it was pretty decent for the first go around. For a project that had a targeted total (prep and bake) time of 1 hour, I finished in about 4. Whaaatttt?
There is definitely room for improvement. 🙂
What have you done or do to celebrate/honor the memory of your loved ones?
The Coach is a pretty funny guy. Early in our relationship, we had the following conversation about funerals…
The Coach: I’ve been thinking about the type of funeral service I want to have when the time comes.
Me: What do you mean? Why are you telling me this? Is there something I should know?
The Coach: First of all I’m not dying and I’m telling you because you will plan it. I want my funeral to reflect me.
Me: Okay, but don’t most funerals reflect the deceased?
The Coach: Well, I haven’t been to many funerals but, the one that sticks out to me involved a terrible singer. The good thing about this guy was that his singing was so bad, he made us laugh. So, I decided that I wanted to do something a little different for mine. Let’s be honest, I’m a fun guy so why not put the ‘fun’ back in funeral. Most importantly, I want us to put together a cd of songs for our guests to experience. You know something they can play whenever they are thinking about me.
Me (laughing pretty hard): Wait, time out. The ‘fun in funeral’? And you want funeral favors to be handed out?? Since when are you an ‘experience’ guy? This is beyond crazy. Are you kidding me?
The Coach: I am serious! I would like people to have a little something to take home to remember me on the ride home or whenever. I was thinking a 2 disc cd set.
Me (still laughing): Where will this epic funeral take place? You know some of your favorite songs are not appropriate for a church.
The Coach: At church of course but, the cd wouldn’t be played during the service, it would be debuted at the wake/visitation. It will be a gift for coming to the funeral.
Now, I am laughing so hard tears are streaming down my face. A funeral cd? I am unable to speak. Finally, when I am able to collect myself, we continue the conversation.
Me: So, to be clear you want those attending your funeral to get some sort of party favor at the end? And you want that to be a cd?
The Coach: Exactly! And I want the liner of the cd to be a copy of the obituary.
Me: This keeps getting better. I’m not doing that, you are outrageous.
The Coach: But isn’t the funeral suppose to be about me? I’m telling you this is what I want, isn’t it a great idea?
Me: Maybe we could do A cd, 2 is a bit much.
The Coach: You know I love for people to have a good time especially if we are hosting something, shouldn’t my funeral be the same?
Me: I agree, funerals are a celebration of life. But you my friend, can go a little overboard. We will have to work on the details a little on this one. Can we table this conversation for say 100 years? 😉
The Coach: Yes, but you have to do it for me!
So, naturally I did a little research on the subject and as I should have known, memorial or funeral favors exist. Just not to the extent of what The Coach would like to do.
Seriously, what have I gotten myself into here? 🙂
A couple of years ago I was out with two of my favorite cousins. We were planning to meet up with one of my close friends (she was the person responsible for the Coach and I meeting!) to celebrate with her while I was in Atlanta. In the car on the way to the restaurant, we were catching up and somehow started sharing personal celebrity look-alike stories. One of my cousins told us how someone told him he looked like Ludacris, which if he wears shades he KINDA does. We were cracking up so, I decided to share my story.
Now, to be clear, these were other people’s thoughts of who we looked like. We think we all look like a combo of our parents but, who cares about our opinion right?
Me: “I’m not exactly sure where I was but, I do remember it was right after I graduated from college.”
Cousin Ludacris Look Alike: (Snickering) “How many years ago was that, again?”
Me: “Shut it! Anyway, this man comes up to me and says, ‘Has anybody ever told you look JUST like Whoopi Goldberg??’ Umm, thank you?
I don’t remember what happened after that honestly I think I blacked out.
Cousin Ludacris Look Alike who was driving and my Other Cousin go into hysterics! Laughing like I am Kevin Hart (who is HILARIOUS by the way), in between asking if I was serious.
Fast forward to about two weeks ago…on our (the Coach, Georgia Peach, and I) way to the beach we stop at a gas station. While the Coach is filling up the truck, Georgia Peach and I head into the convenience store to grab some waters. When we get to the counter to pay, the store clerk says, “Aww she is so cute (referring to GP).”
Me: “Thank you.”
Store Clerk: “Is she your child?”
Me: (Slightly confused) “Yes.”
Store Clerk: “Oh.”
In April, I went to NJ/NY to celebrate my Fabulous Friend’s birthday. Man, traveling alone has it’s perks. I sailed through the airport with just my pre-Mommy purse with no Cheerios, diapers or food pouches in sight! I felt light as a feather and slightly guilty for being away during such a busy weekend for The Coach…but, that subsided once I got on the plane and took a nap. Sweet joy in the morning! 🙂
It was great to relive the old days of 9 p.m. dinner reservations, cab rides, subways and city shopping! I love Savannah but, a shopping hub…it is not.
On the morning of my flight home, I realized that during our day of shopping, I neglected to pick up a little something for The Coach. Probably wouldn’t have been a problem if I hadn’t made a point to tell him, “don’t worry, I’ll pick up something for you too” when he asked me what it was like to shop in NYC.
My husband can be a little tricky to shop for so, I may have backed myself into a corner here. Luckily, I had a layover in Atlanta and they have some decent shops in the airport so, maybe I could pull off something nice for my guy.
Hold on, am I really planning a shopping trip to an airport? I am indeed…my choices were limited.
When I got to Atlanta, I jumped on the train to my terminal and headed to my gate. Surprisingly on the way, I found a shop that had some items I thought he would like and wear. I picked up a nice button down shirt and mentioned to the clerk that I was lucky I found the store since I didn’t buy anything for my husband while in NYC. The sales clerk said to me, “Make sure you take the shirt out of the bag so he doesn’t see the airport sales receipt”.
My response, “My game is tight, kid. I got this.”
I landed in Savannah after a LONG delay on the runway in Atlanta. I kissed The Coach and saw my precious girl in the backseat happily eating Cheerios and sporting her Father’s attempt at hair styling. Let’s just say I had some work to do before we sat down for dinner at the restaurant. But he tried, bless his heart. 🙂
Once we got home, I gave Georgia Peach her gift (she is almost 2 so, a mini I LOVE NY stuffed animal FROM THE AIRPORT is cool). I did not put The Coach’s gift in my luggage, I kept it in the bag from the store, exactly what the sales clerk warned against. So, when The Coach brought in my luggage from the truck he asked what was in the bag. I told him it was his gift.
He liked it and thanked me. THEN…
He started asking me about the store. I must have forgotten who I married.
The Coach: I have never heard of this store before, is it in NY? I really like the shirt, I wonder if they have a store close to us?
Me: (Getting GP ready for her bath). I’m not sure of all of the locations (besides the one at Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport, Terminal C!).
The Coach: Did you buy this shirt at the airport in Atlanta?
Me: (Cracking up). Huh? What? Wait? What? How did you find that out?
I walked back into the living room to I see him on the laptop, pointing to the name of the store and it’s location…the only one, Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport. Come ON!
Me: (Still laughing). I mean, who are you?? Honestly, I ran out of time and had to make it happen. Do you like the shirt any less? And what makes you jump online and look up the store, anyway, who does that?
The Coach: I liked the shirt so, I wanted to see if there were other things I might like but, I’m guessing the store is not big, since it was probably a kiosk.
Funny. 🙂 It was an actual store, big shot.
Many a great find are attributed to a kiosk. Here are a few…
Designer (knock offs) Sunglasses
Your Name on a Grain of Sand
Whatever the people who always ask if THEY can ask you a question sell. Lotion? Timeshares? Nail Buffing systems? I don’t know.
A great DJ Mix CD
In the end, The Coach liked his shirt and will have to go to the designer’s website for more shirts with a similar style or he can just take a trip to Hartsfield-Jackson.
And, I, on the other hand, realized that ‘my game’ is no longer tight. 😉
This may sound pretty creepy but, I am a bit of a stan. Most people know that I am slightly obsessed with our daughter-in-a-good-and-well-meaning-Mommy-kind-of-way. I am always looking for ways for her to positively interact with other kids around her age. Since my attempt to join a Mommy Group was an epic fail. Mommy’s gotta keep it moving. So, recently, I have been aggressively looking into different play environments outside of storytime at the library for Georgia Peach (GP). Big thanks to Junk Food Nanny (who has been eating salads lately) for taking our Southern Belle every week!
First, we tried one of the Plantation playgrounds (you read it correctly, check it out here).
Each time we went, we were the only 2 people there. Kinda defeats the purpose but, I like hanging with my little Mama so, always time well spent. Besides its easier to ‘catch’ GP when she attempts to walk down the slide instead of actually sliding down it. 😉
Next, we tried one of the mall playgrounds. It went a little like this…
Upon arrival we parked the stroller in the designated area, read the rules, loaded up on antibacterial, removed her tiny shoes, secured our belongings (we don’t know these people), and entered the playground. We both observed the scene. There were about 15 kids ranging from 12 months to 8 years old. But as with any social setting/event there are a couple of standouts in the crowd. The same goes with the little ones.
We immediately noticed two boys terrorizing another boy. They were chasing, tackling, dragging him by one leg and one arm, pouncing on him then stopping when his whining and crying started to attract too much attention. As soon as they released the little boy, they would ‘find’ him again. Problem with this was he kept running to the same place…his Mother. Learn little boy, learn! Turns out all of these boys were brothers. After a few concerned looks from other Parents, the Mother asked the brothers to play nicely. Clearly she doesn’t care if the Menendez Brothers take the little one out. Better watch your back, Momma. You and Dad could be next.
Before we had a chance to recover, the next Lindsay Lohan runs up to GP grabs her shoulders and screams in her face. Stunned, we both looked at her like Little Lindsay was cray cray. I bent down to politely tell little Miss Congeniality to take her hands off my kid while GP just looked at her like she was missing a few marbles. Around this time, ‘Lindsay’s’ Dad comes over to redirect her energy elsewhere. Thanks for the help, Dr. Huxtable.
Despite the rocky start, GP had a good time.
Fast forward to a couple of months ago…
I was working in my home office (my desk faces the window overlooking our street) when I saw a woman I hadn’t seen before walking with her two children. One was driving a little car and the other was in a Moby. The little boy driving his car seemed to be close to GP’s age and was actually listening to his Mother’s directions. Where has this family been hiding? How can I meet these people? After about a week of seeing them every day around the same time walking past our house, I took matters into my own hands.
The next time I saw the Neighborhood Mom and her little ones walk past our house I would have to stop them. But how? I would probably freak out if this happened to GP and I, but this is what I did to this well-meaning family….
When I saw them coming, I threw on my jacket and hat, put on my shoes, ran downstairs and out into our garage, whipped the garage door open, started running down the driveway and across the street toward this innocent family all while waving my arms and yelling, “Excuse me, excuse me!”
The Neighborhood Mom stopped and asked her son to stop driving his car as well (very cute kid by the way). He did and politely chilled as I began my ridiculous rant. I started explaining how we have been looking for well-behaved age appropriate kids in our area for GP to play with and how I would love to get to know her and see if GP and her son would enjoy playing together. She was very gracious and agreed to let me know when they planned to take their early evening walk so the kids could meet and we could get to know each other.
The introduction went as well as it can go for a nearly 2 and 3-year-old and I enjoyed meeting the Neighborhood Mom too! Everything was going great until she says, “I wish we would have met sooner, WE ARE MOVING in about a month.” Come. ON!
Turns out, it is only a 20 minute drive to their new neighborhood so, we can manage it.
But, who knew the lengths I would go through to ensure we had a socially balanced well-adjusted mini genius?
The adventures continue… 🙂