Leaving tomorrow after school for the beach. Still have not packed. So, I will not be blogging until I manage that situation.
March 29, 2011
Tangentially, I will absolutely still call myself a girl, despite my 36 years. I will also refer to Coach as a boy and you will not roll your eyes or talk about me behind my pink cardi-clad back. Is that clear? Actually here's a secret. I don't much care if you talk about me. I'm not that interested in dissention, and there's no real cream filling in my Oreo of bitchiness. heehee
Posted by clemsongirlandthecoach at Tuesday, March 29, 2011
March 27, 2011
When I was younger, my mother would lie in bed at night and ask my father...did you lock the doors? He would dutifully reply "Yes." Then she would tell him to go downstairs and unlock them, in hopes that the gypsies would come and steal me away in the night. That was how much of a pain the arse I was. But the gypsies never came. (Tangentially, when I was a little girl people used to ask me where I got my “pretty blue eyes” and I replied earnestly, “At the liquor store.” I thought they were asking me about the “blue ice” in bags my parents bought there.)
Posted by clemsongirlandthecoach at Sunday, March 27, 2011
Red Bull. Rock Star. Monster. Sugar free of course. Energy drinks are my friend. Since I gave up Diet Whateversonsale and Starbucks for Lent, I have been dragging arse. However these magic drinks are getting me through. Look, I gave up processed foods and high fructose corn syrup 15 months ago, I don't want to know if there's something horrid in those drinks. So keep that little knowledge nugget to yourself. K? Thanks.
All I know is that they sort of burn my tongue in a good way and allow me to make it through the day. So, in caveman terms, me likey.
In other news, the minis now own every single solitary Nerf gun that exists. We had most of them until they scored Target cards at their birthday party last week and sure enough...now we have the full arsenal. Needless to say, I have declared the kitchen a "bullet-free" zone in order to preserve some sense of order in this freaking fraternity house. Of course, it's much more entertaining to have the Nerf war in their underwear. 8 and 10 year old's in boxer briefs, safety goggles and Nerf guns. I feel like it's a preview of their futures in college.
I'm off to prepare for the week, Heaven knows this girl loves a Monday...and that makes Sunday all the better. xo
Posted by clemsongirlandthecoach at Sunday, March 27, 2011
March 25, 2011
Bleh. I Hate Friday. But you already knew that.
This weekend Coach is out of town (shocking, I realize) and the minis have baseball tonight and tomorrow. So I spent the morning today getting all my errands and whatnots crossed off my list. Mailed the thank you notes from the birthday party (collage photo prints with "8 is Great!" and "10 is Terrific," printed on them) sent a box of treats to my amazing friend ClemsonLocal for her birthday next week, renewed my minivan tags ... it's all very exciting. Living the minivan dream.
In order to renew my Georgia plates, I had to have my emissions tested. The man running the testing center was schooling me on the effects of emissions on the environment. He launched into a long diatribe about the air quality and how important it is to protect our environment and so on and so forth.
I listened and nodded and smiled and agreed.
While he chain smoked Marlboros.
Posted by clemsongirlandthecoach at Friday, March 25, 2011
March 24, 2011
This morning I am mildly hungover. Not in the traditional sense, but in a "day after the party" "cupcakes and confetti" hungover kind of way.
Woke up, got the minis breakfasted (yes, that's a verb in our house) and Coach took them to school. I started a load (brag? the only load!) of dirty clothes and poured and enormous cup of coffee. I sat down at the kitchen table with the laptop and started my morning.
Feeling rather smug, I flipped through the pictures from the minis' party. (See post below, duh) They had a great time and everything went off without a hitch. I think it might have been their favorite party yet. The day ahead seemed full of possibility. House is clean. Thanks to a late night visit from my neighbors/clients, my work schedule is open for the day. No baseball tonight and Coach is actually in town. Dinner is in the fridge and I actually have a plan for it, thank God for Publix Apron Meal recipes and all the awesomeness that is associated with said meals.
Hmmm, how to spend the day? I know! I will workout, then head up to the outlets to get a few things for the upcoming beach/Disney trip! That will be perfect.
And then the phone rang.
Coach was dropping minis off at school and realized that Ryan didn't have his PE uniform. Our school is very strict and you are only allowed to drop off lunches and coats, so luckily Ryan hadn't gotten out of the car yet. No problem, I told them I would jump in the minivan and run it over. (It was clean, in the PE bag, hanging on the backpack rack. We just forgot.)
Oh frick. I'm still in my pajamas. Modest, clean pajamas, but pajamas nonetheless. No time to get dressed. I have always rolled my eyes at those moms driving carpool in pjs. I have always firmly insisted I would never do that. Never say never, and I'm not talking about Bieber. I grab my keys and PE uniform and drive to school. I get a glimpse of myself in the mirror at a red light. Lawd. My hair is super long and is piled on top of my head in what was a ponytail and is now, well, not. I have yesterday's makeup on, including delicious black mascara under my eyes. Gross. I have a smidge of lip gloss...on my chin from last night. Gack.
I wipe the errant lip gloss off and brace myself. This is not a big deal. I'm not getting out of the car, no one is going to see me. I pull up next to Coach's and sheepishly wave at Sister. I hand them the uniform, he kisses me (God Bless You Coach) and I head back home.
And then I realize.
I have no gas. Literally the light came on yesterday as I was driving home from school but I couldn't stop and fill up because the party was starting. I know Dad, fill up when you're at half a tank like you taught me. But I was super busy making glittered centerpieces! As a result of the glittering now I have NO gas. Fumes maybe. I check the magic DTE setting and see that I have zero miles to empty. Son of a biscuit.
I pull into the gas station and step out of the minivan. My intention is to swipe the debit, stick the pump in and sit in horror in my car. Of course, the dang pump's clip device that allows you to pump and let go is busted. D'oh! This is not good. I have to STAND OUT HERE AND GET GAS. Right next to the busy road where everyone can see me.
My mind is racing. I'm mortified. What are people going to think? They are going to think I'm a meth addict. Yep, that's clearly the message I'm sending. Meth addict mother of 2 pumping gas in her freaking pajamas. Looking like a street walker with yesterday's makeup and some crazy hair. My heart starts to race and I feel like I am going to throw up.
But then I realize, no one is going to think I'm a meth addict.
Because meth addicts don't wear lavender Nick and Nora bride/groom pajamas and gold jeweled flip flops.
Posted by clemsongirlandthecoach at Thursday, March 24, 2011
March 23, 2011
I made the centerpieces from gift bags, foam bricks, dowels and pipe cleaners. The numbers were brown cardboard from Hobby Lobby and I painted and glittered the hell out of them. The table runner is actually wrapping paper, and totally genius if I do say so myself.
Even though the boys shared the party, I made sure that they felt separate. We divided the children into 2 groups and while the 2nd graders were in the truck, the 4th graders ate pizza, popcorn and cupcakes. Then they swapped. I set separate tables for them too.
The favors were silicone Wii remote covers that I found for $1 and filled with candy. The tags say "Wii are so glad you came to our party!" Cuteness!
I'm sleepy. But the party was a huge success.
Wii are going to bed!
Posted by clemsongirlandthecoach at Wednesday, March 23, 2011
March 22, 2011
I'm getting ready for the minis' joint birthday party tomorrow after school, and I've been exploring parts of stores I have never been in.
I promise to post lots of pictures afterwards, but some of the things I have been buying are:
monofilament (this is a fancy word for fishing line, which BFF had to point out would be sold in the fishing section of the store, duh)
green glitter/silver paint
36 mini water bottles
5 pizzas and 8 boxes of popcorn
9 wooden dowels in various sizes
silicone wii remote covers
lime green, black and silver balloons
2 dozen orange hazard cones
Toradol shot for impending migraine
Posted by clemsongirlandthecoach at Tuesday, March 22, 2011
March 20, 2011
10 years later, and every single morning, I am grateful and thrilled to have been given this gift. A gift and an enormous responsibility of essentially working myself out of a job. In essence, in becoming a Mother, your challenge is to make your children no longer need you. At least not in the same ways they do as small children.
This morning Ryan celebrated his 10th birthday over a farmer's breakfast and stacks of gifts. He hugged Coach and I and headed off to school.
Posted by clemsongirlandthecoach at Sunday, March 20, 2011
March 19, 2011
The efficacy of sunscreen is greatly diminished if you neglect to reapply it after hour 4. After 3 baseball games today (Jack, Ryan and Coach's teams all won, if you care), I am sweaty and mildly sunburned. Oops. The minis got plenty of shade and sunscreen and they survived unscathed.
Quite the weekend already. Last night we went to the Fish Fry at church. The recent arrival of General Krotendorfer rendered me both bloated and unable to make simple decisions. There was a brief (read: 30 minute panic-stricken) stretch where I was fairly certain I had thrown my car keys in the enormous trash can. Alas, a darling altar server found them in the ladies room. After I consumed a healthy portion of baked tilapia and green beans (or fried pollock and coleslaw, you decide) we headed to Coach's game.
Tonight I am preparing to finalize my To Do list for the week, the bulk of which are items for the minis' birthday party which I am throwing on Wednesday, finishing my continuing ed classes to renew my Real Estate license and scrubbing this frat house.
What's on your agenda?
Posted by clemsongirlandthecoach at Saturday, March 19, 2011
March 18, 2011
March 16, 2011
Southern Irish...mixing a Gail Pittman pottery piece with a Dollar Tree centerpiece.
I green puffy heart it.
The key to Magic Milk is to put the green food coloring UNDERNEATH the end of the straw, so the minis don't see it. Then when you pour the milk, it magically turns the color. No fun pre-mixing it, nothing magic about that!
Posted by clemsongirlandthecoach at Wednesday, March 16, 2011
March 15, 2011
This face, and subsequent cuteness won Coach over and as we all know, I can talk that man into anything. Sweet Bowman, named by me, for the famous field at Clemson.
When Bowman was 5 months old, we almost had to kick his puppy arse to the curb. He was cray-cray and cut Jack's ear with his stupid milk tooth. Whatever that is. Twice. I called the BFFs and sobbed. I called the vet's wife and sobbed. Then I did exactly what you'd expect. I read 84,000 dog training books and boot camped the pup into submission. Just like I did with the children. Duh.
We had very few other instances of puppy shenanigans, accidents or chewing. Amen.
We had a short stint of considering adopting a female from Bowman's litter. She is yellow and her name is 10 Minutes. We had her for 10 Minutes before I shipped her misbehaving sassy self back to the foster lady. She was a buffet of bullshank.
Today this big old dog is turning 2. He needs a buddy, but I just don't have it in me to deal with another dog right now. So instead, for his birthday he's getting a new Clemson collar and the world's longest walk. Right, Coach?
Happy Birthday Bowman.
Posted by clemsongirlandthecoach at Tuesday, March 15, 2011
March 14, 2011
Posted by clemsongirlandthecoach at Monday, March 14, 2011
March 13, 2011
Today the Homily at Mass was based on Genesis. (The minis find it hilarious that the Lector was very Southern and said "they realized they were naked." Except he said "nekkid" and they have been cracking up about that all day.)
In any case, the Homily talked about why Adam and Eve chose to eat the forbidden fruit, even though God told them not to. God didn't put up a fence, or a wall or an alarm system. He simply said, don't eat it. Sort of the Holy version of when a Mama says "Because I said so." But they ate the fruit because they (thought) they knew better than God. Thus a rousing 10 minutes on how we are tempted every day and sometimes choose that temptation thinking we know better than God.
It was actually quite relevant and the minis garnered a lot from it. Lately we have been having some real issues with rule breaking. Ryan especially has taken to making his own decisions regardless of the rules because he thinks he knows better than I do. Case in point we have a fairly large fenced backyard and the children are allowed to play baseball back there, with whiffle balls or tennis balls. Last week they were home with a sitter and decided to use a real baseball...fast forward...broken 2nd story window. Duh.
Don't misunderstand me, I have 2 boys. I expect rough housing and occasional broken whatnots. What I do not expect, or tolerate, is blatant disobedience. They know they aren't allowed to use a real baseball for that very reason, but they knew better than to honor my rules.
We have had some other instances lately where my reaction has been, "Seriously?! I made that rule to prevent this from happening. Why do you think you know better than me?" I can't seem to make him understand that I make rules for for legitimate reasons. Truth be told, he's had me in secretly in tears more than once in the last few weeks.
After Mass, Ryan approached the Deacon who had given the Homily. "I really liked your Homily" he said, shaking his hand. "But I wish you'd given it sooner. I broke a window with a baseball I wasn't supposed to use, because I thought I knew better."
Posted by clemsongirlandthecoach at Sunday, March 13, 2011
March 12, 2011
This week's posts will be brought to you by the letters P, M, and S.
I think. I'm not totally sure, despite being 35 and having experienced PMS for the last 24 years, (Yes, that's a hot mess, I know) it appears that I am incapable to charting said situation. Whatever.
It's either PMS, and I think you remember this post on what ,my PMS is really like, or it's the lack of espresso-based drinks from Starbucks. Tangentially, not having espresso makes me really hungry. Turns out that whole "caffeine is an appetite suppressant" thing? Spot on. Which also is the excuse I'm using for why I felt compelled to eat potstickers at 9am yesterday.
This morning I woke up at 6am, on a Saturday to take the minis to back-to-back baseball games. Ryan, as per usual, had misplaced something. As in freaking lost it forever. But no biggie, not a hugely important item, JUST HIS STINKING BASEBALL GLOVE. Lawd, that child is cute as heck, but would lose his head if it wasn't connected to his neck.
We were "snack family", which is total lamesauce because it's 9am and the children don't need Gatorade and fruit snacks. (PS? I brought pretzels and water. Duh.) I had the monogrammed cooler all loaded up with a Thermos of coffee and my Greek yogurt. I was all settled in and minding my own business.
Then Ryan comes to the side of the fence, "Hey Mama? Coach says I can't use my bat. He said it's too small."
Oh. No. You. Didn't.
His Daddy? Oh, yeah...IS A DIVISION I COLLEGE BASEBALL COACH! I am fairly certain (read: absolutely dead positive) that HE HAS THE CORRECT SIZE BAT, you Jackleg.
But I didn't say that. I walked calmly to the dugout with gritted teeth. "Um, excuse me? I'm Ryan's mom. He has a bat. It's orange. He will be using it. Are we clear on that?"
"It's too small. See?" He holds up Ryan's appropriately sized bat next to another player's bat. Said other player is at least a head taller than Ryan and practically has armpit hair. Ryan is 9. I think the other player drove to practice. He's huge. (I'm not judging, but I may have seen other player chugging a Mountain Dew before the game. G-ross.)
"See? He won't get any power with this tiny bat."
I blink very slowly. I wipe the corners of my lip gloss with my index finger and thumb.
"Ryan has a bat. It is orange. He will be using it. Are we clear on that?"
He rolls his eyes at me and hands Ryan his orange, appropriately sized bat. I walk back to my cooler.
Bigger isn't always better.
Except when it comes to Mama's attitude.
Posted by clemsongirlandthecoach at Saturday, March 12, 2011
March 11, 2011
Coach is in charge of the minis on school mornings. He gets up, grabs his coffee and a shower whilst I lie in bed, blissfully dreaming of the off-season. Then at 6:30 he gets the minis up, gets them in showers and they dress in our room while Coach shaves and dresses.
Me? Still lying in the bed. Semi-conscious in my pajamas.
Shortly before he fixes their hair (Ryan says we make him have Lego hair, heehee), I head downstairs, to pour my coffee/diet whateversonsale. I plate breakfast (which I baked the night before; muffins biscuits, etc) and open yogurts. I make Coach's protein shake and pour his coffee into his travel mug.
He loads his work stuff (which is oddly a shiot-ton of stuff, including the radar gun), the minis backpacks and the minis into the car and he drives them to school.
They leave. I collapse into my chair at the kitchen table and have 15 minutes of total silence before I begin my day.
Works for us!
Except this week, Coach is out of town, so I'm handling the mornings.
Today went super smoothly, no issues, except that I am basically defunct in the morning. My entire body aches and my head is all cob-webby. I remembered to give them money for the raffle. I was sweet to the minis and we managed to get in the minivan by the appointed time to drive to school.
Mid-drive my eyes start itching and burning from dryness. I start rubbing them (and admittedly yesterday's makeup) as I continue toward school. Frick. My right contact pops out and lands on my shirt. Lie, that's a total lie. Lands on the cardi I threw over my pajama tank. I didn't say I got dressed, I said I was sweet. Big difference.
I pull over into the closest parking lot which is happily empty. Which is helpful because my vision is 20/400 and I can't see a blessed thing without corrective lenses. Not a blessed thing I assure you.
I spit shine the contact (Hello?? It's crack thirty and I'm barely awake, I am currently blind.) Spit in my contact is the least of my concerns, and put it back in my eye. Gross, but I will throw it out when I get home and put in a new one. Desperate times call for, well spit. Tears are streaming down my cheeks from my eye watering.
As I am pulling out of the parking lot, several moms from school pass me. They give me half waves and odd looks. Hmmm, perhaps they aren't used to seeing my bring the children to school? Perhaps they are befuddled by my hair, piled into a ponytail on the top of my head? (Sorry, Mom! I know you hate that!) Oh, maybe they are wondering why I'm not wearing lip gloss. In any case, I am sure getting some odd looks.
I make it to school, and successfully drop the minis at the front door. Another mom rolls down her window and says, "Hey Clemsongirl? If you need anything, anything at all? Call me. I'm here for you."
WHAT THE? I buckle my seat belt and head towards home. I don't look that bad! I mean to be clear? I'm not ugly and by design I am one of the youngest moms at school. Amen for having my first at 25. Sheesh. Harsh.
As I round the corner I meet a red light. I look around and realize WHY I was getting all the strange looks.
I had pulled over to amend my contact issue...in the Crisis Pregnancy Center parking lot. Where the moms saw me pulled over, seemingly sobbing.
"Eye" Caramba. That explains a lot.
Posted by clemsongirlandthecoach at Friday, March 11, 2011
March 9, 2011
Coach is so stressed during baseball season. He takes his job to heart and is always the first one at The University and the last one to leave. He loves those players like they are his sons and cares deeply about their performance, on and off the field.
That said, win or lose, Coach is all in. But March, April and May he's jumpy and exhausted and overwhelmed. So I TRY to take on a little more for him during those times. (read: 365, duh)
After a loss last night, he was beyond frustrated. He's extremely quiet and was trying to pack and prep for a road trip just before midnight. Washing uniforms, packing bags, charging the radar gun, measuring protein powder, he was a flurry of activity.
This morning he headed out in the 6 o'clock hour for Ash Wednesday Mass, then got directly on the team bus. His head was spinning.
I called him just after he left Mass. I gave him a super sweet pep talk. I told him I loved him and how proud I was of him. I empathized with his exhaustion and told him things would be great. I would hold down the fort (double duh) and manage everything at home. I repeated that I loved him and said we would see him on Monday.
We hung up and I jumped in the shower.
Whilst in the shower I congratulated myself on being such a kick arse wife. I felt so pleased about the encouraging words I had shared with him. I felt absolutely certain that he was getting on that bus feeling empowered and confident. He must be thinking about his sweet wife and how much he loves me.
I got out of the shower and had a text from Coach. I smiled, and opened it.
"Thanks." Short and sweet. Awwww, he really listened to my words.
I pretended to be coy and texted back,
"Thanks for what baby?"
He immediately responded.
"Oh, sorry. That was for DJ. He made copies for me."
Fricking boys. Idiots.
Posted by clemsongirlandthecoach at Wednesday, March 09, 2011
March 8, 2011
As an aside, I have given up Starbucks (gasp!) and diet whateversonsale (double gasp!). It promises to be a long 40 days, and that's the point of self-sacrifice. The minis have given up TV and candy. Wowser.
In any case, it's not news that I went to Clemson. If you didn't already know that, stop reading and go jump in a lake. Preferably Lake Hartwell. heehee
Clemson has a tiny Catholic church called St. Andrew's on the corner of Edgewood and Sloan Streets. You can imagine that being Catholic in Clemson was well, unique. There weren't many of us, but those of us who were Catholic dragged our (sometimes hungover) selves to Mass at 10am on Sundays. I often walked in about 2.2 seconds before Father began Mass. But, I was there. In cute dresses. Pinky swear.
My Senior year (I was on a 5 year plan, due to internships and my general awesomeness) I met Coach at Mass. It's a long, hilarious and endearing story which I am saving for another post, but fast forward to this: I met Coach at Mass. My parents were convinced that "church" was a name of a bar, but I assure you, it was St. Andrew's.
Needless to say, the fact that Coach was Catholic was a game changer (no pun intended) for me. I don't know that I actually thought a lot about that before then, but as it turned out, in that moment, I realized that religious commonality was extremely important to me. I mean, just think, if I had married a Methodist, he never would have understood my overwhelming Catholic guilt. Or me giving up Starbucks as my personal hairshirt.
We got married and have been members of several parishes throughout our moves on the Coaching Tour. In Tennessee, our parish was a huge part of my life. My mom's group, playgroup, Supper Club, meal group...all through our church. I was the President of the Ladies Guild and I co-chaired Vacation Bible School. I met some of the most amazing friends and raised my babies with the help and advice of those fellow Catholic women.
Now the minis attend Catholic school. We were honored to have their efforts highlighted at this year's Catholic Charities Atlanta Gala (thus the picture of me with Hair Cycle: Day 1 and grown up clothes), and here is what was shared about them, which I have edited for privacy.
In order to better set the stage for this family’s unique gift, we share with you Ryan’s impact while still very tiny.
When Clemsongirl was pregnant with Ryan, she & Coach were informed that the baby had serious health issues...they turned to prayer, their strong faith, and staying in good health. Clemsongirl had always been very close to her parents, and as her complicated pregnancy progressed, she saw the two transform very dramatically from her doting parents to grandparents who had their priorities set on being there for their grandchildren under any circumstances. Overnight, they became Papa Jack and Granny Diane!
Ryan was born ... after tense days in the hospital ... he was pronounced perfectly healthy and continues to be very much so! Two years later, they were blessed with Ryan’s little brother Jackson.
When the two brothers were old enough, Granny Diane and Papa Jack established a great summer tradition – Granny Camp! The two would travel up with Jennifer to the Chicago area to spend longer and longer times with their grandparents. Granny Camp has developed into a several week stay that they now get to make solo.
Granny Diane makes elaborate plans of fun activities to do with the Jackson and Ryan, and Papa Jack makes sure that plenty of sports and outings are in the mix. For the past several years, in order to make sure they have a little extra spending money for their big trip, a special savings jar has been established – one in Atlanta and one in Chicago. The minis will put in extra change or money the boys earn from chores, and Papa and Granny are doing the same thing – tossing in money here & there to save up for splurges at Granny Camp.
Granny Camp jars turned into the Giving jars!
Now I have to give credit to a fellow parishoner because it was his Christmas talk this past December at St. Catherine’s that caused the boys to part with their Giving jar proceeds for the benefit of Catholic Charities and its clients – and these funds were matched by their grandfather Papa Jack. The boys were paying special attention when he got up to speak because they associated them with the Elijah Cup, and the family had been praying for vocations with the cup program for many years. After hearing from him about the work of Catholic Charities and how they helped, especially other children, they were moved to donate it all and forego some goodies this summer at Granny Camp.
Thank you, Clemsongirl and Coach, for sharing your story and for raising such truly compassionate and amazing boys!"
Posted by clemsongirlandthecoach at Tuesday, March 08, 2011
Construction paper runner (I said I was Fun Mommy, I didn't say I was spendy!) and lots of beads.
Purple hard straws in footed tea glasses. A litte secret ingredient in the bottom of the glass...
When you pour the milk, Voila! Magic Mardi Gras green milk. The minis still think this is amazing and Jack is completely befuddled by this. Of course 9yo Ryan rolls his eyes, but inside thinks it's the bomb. They love it.
Posted by clemsongirlandthecoach at Tuesday, March 08, 2011
March 5, 2011
Posted by clemsongirlandthecoach at Saturday, March 05, 2011