(an oldy but goody...reposted)
shin·gle [shĭng'g*l]n. - a thin oblong piece of material, such as wood or slate, that is laid in overlapping rows to cover the roof or sides of a house or other building.
Our house has them. They protect us from water damage. Our children have a play house that has them. Keeps them dry as they are saving the world (or the cat, depending on the day). If our dog was an outside dog, I am sure my dear hubby would have adorned her dogbox with shingles.
None of these are the kind of shingles I have. And mine are not on my roof....they are closer to my basement if you know where I mean...
Tonight was the night I was looking forward to for 2 months. A while ago I was teasing my husband that HOME DEPOT does not a date make. I hinted that I would like to have a reason to buy some nice clothes and a reason to wear them.
Me: "Ya know, I have never been anywhere that has an actual dress code. Like, NO JEANS."
Him: "Yes, you have!"
Me: "Name one."
Him: I can think of a lot of them. What about the DuPont Mansion?"
Me: "OK, if I had to be in a bride's maids dress, that doesn't count. You get a re-do."
Him: "Um."
Me: "Yep. My point exactly."
Him: "Well, we will have to change that now won't we?"
Two days later I get an email from my usually-to-busy-to-email hubby. The subject said, "get a babysitter." It's an e-invitation to a corporate event at a VERY posh country club. The body of his email said, "NO JEANS! I love you."
The event is tonight. For the last week he has been telling me I am too sick to go. That I will never feel like going.
mar·bles [mahr-buhls]n. - metamorphosed limestones, consisting chiefly of recrystallized calcite or dolomite, capable of taking a high polish, occurring in a wide range of colors and variegations and used in sculpture and architecture.
These were NOT the marbles I told him he had lost. "Honey, I have been chasing a 2-year old all day, done the grocery shopping in torrential down-pours, helped with homework and got all 3 kids to bed single-handedly while you were in Chicago, all while feeling like death was looming. What in the world makes you think sitting and eating with other couples while listening to live dinner music and sipping expensive wine would bring out the CODE paddles?"
When I had him take a look at my "rash" yesterday and told him I thought it was Shingles, he said, once again..."See. We are not going!"
Last night I went to the spa, got my hair done and shopped for a new outfit (shoes and jewelry, too)! Came home and did the fashion show....I get, "Listen to your voice, we are NOT going."
So, why do I need to talk? I am very talkative, as you all know, but I would be thrilled to just sit, look pretty and be waited on without saying a word. The mere possibility of a dinner where no food gets spit, spilled or spewed, no one fights over the last piece of garlic bread or whines about having to eat just two more bites brings a smile to my face.
I head off to the doctor this morning, leaving my toddler with the neighbor (you ask why the need for a babysitter? See my previous post).
Dr: "Yes, my dear. I believe you have Shingles."
Me: "Oh no. We have huge dinner plans tonight. Should I not go?"
Dr: "Well, you can only spread them if someone touches them."
(pertinent information - they are on my backside)
Me: "Oh, no worries. It's not THAT kind of party!"
Nurse: "GAAFFAAAWWWW!" and trips over herself as she leaves the room.
I pick up the baby, get home and call my hubby.
Me: "YEAH! We can go. The doctor said."
Him: "Um. I feel like crap. I finally caught the cold you have."
Me: ((sniffle, sniffle)) "OK, hope you feel better!"
defeated [de*feet*ed]adj. - 1. beaten or overcome; not victorious; 2. disappointingly unsuccessful
Friday, January 7, 2011
When Chaperoning turns U-G-L-Y...
I am a career chaperone! I love it! I have a third- and a fourth-grader and I have been homeroom mom and class trip chaperone every year for one or both of them. I anxiously await my youngest to start school so I can carry on my tradition! The trips are always to somewhere fun, the groups are small and the kids are very well behaved...UNTIL TODAY!
I had no idea what I was in for! I arrived at my son's classroom just in time to be assigned with my group. SIX kids! 4 girls, 2 boys! They are 9 & 10 year olds, shouldn't be too bad, right?! It wasn't until we loaded the bus. My sweet son is in the it's-cool-to-ride-in-the-very-back-seat stage! And also the have-mom-sit-on-the-inside-so-I-can-still-chat-w-my-friends stage. This is all fine with me b/c then I can text friends and just chill.
Apparently, however, the bus drivers got wind of some kind of hold up on the turnpike so we started our trip on back roads. Up and down, around and up again. That danged back seat flings you all over to heck and back! I think I was bleeding internally by the time we got to the Camden Aquarium!
My six kids and I got our bracelets and headed in to a facility that most obviously over-booked the day. I swear it was standing-room-only at most of the exhibits! Kids were cranky, the adults were crankier and my group was starving! Do people no longer feed their kids breakfast anymore? We had a schedule to abide by so I couldn't feed them until my schedule said to head for the Skyline Lunchroom!
By this time I had
I think I would have been OK finishing the trip and heading home on my own. I really think the return trip did me in. No one should even be made to ride 90 minutes on a bus filled with 2-3 kids (apparently who ALL needed Ritalin) to a seat, only a handful of chaperones and enough video game paraphernalia to keep us off the Ben Franklin Bridge due to excessive weight.
There were kids singing to their iPods and I am being kind by saying "singing" - one girl just had her mouth open and all the sounds of hell were coming out of her face...I watched her thinking she was having a stroke or something but apparently the music was so loud that she THOUGHT SHE WAS SINGING!
Then there was a group of boys who had "linked" their Nintendo DS's and were playing some race game that causes you to lose all sense of how loud you are screaming in the nice lady chaperone's ears as you egg on your opponents with your trash talk. One small kid, whose mouth was bigger than he was, screamed, "OH, YOU ARE GOIN' DOWWWWWWN!" so loud in my ear that I saw stars and I honestly imagined myself head-butting him! ME...headbutting a 9-year old! That would be the LAST field trip of my career, I imagine! Maybe not such a bad idea...
The noise on that bus was deafening! COMPLETELY deafening!
When we finally arrived back at the school, I saw a dear friend leaving her bus looking frazzled. She and I have known each other since we were the STUDENTS on the field trip bus! And as I walked past her I said, " I have come to the conclusion that I could never be a bus driver." She looked me square in the eyes and said, "I have come to the conclusion that I will be stopping by the liquor store on the way home!" (thanks "B" - that was the best laugh I have had in a long time!)
Today, while dropping off a forgotten instrument at school , I ran into the gifted teacher who chatted with me for a minute about "my group" for Friday. Yep....just call me GFP, (Glutton For Punishment) - I am off on another field trip as "Queen Chaperone" on Friday, yes, like TOMORROW! I close my eyes, rub my temples and start my mantra, "It's aaaaallllllll blog fodder, it's aaaaalllllll blog fodder..." which quickly starts to sound a little like, "There's no place like home....there's no place like home..."
lost
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