On a cold snowy Sunday morning, a mother got out of bed and was about to go brush her teeth when she heard the sleepy crackled voice of her young boy saying, “No Mommy.  Come snuggle with me.”   Even though her teeth were screaming to be brushed, Superman himself couldn’t have walked away from the sweet boy and the warm bed.

So in she climbed and snuggled close. 

“Mom, I had some really weird dreams last night.”  The boy said with a far off look.

“Ooh I did too!  You tell me yours first!”

And off the boy went, describing with much seriousness and attention to detail, every aspect of his dream. 

The mother realized that normally there is nothing more boring on this earth to her than listening to another’s dream.  Some one else’s scatological thoughts in the unconscious mind no less, are sure to be painfully dull.

But on this morning, at this time, there was nothing else the mother wanted to do than to hear what happened next in this boy’s caveman dream.

At the end of his monologue, he looked at his mom and said, “OK now what were your dreams about?”  And not only did he hang on to every word of the mother’s nonsensical dream, he even asked follow up questions. 

As the boy and the mother were finally up and brushing their teeth, the mother reflected what a sweet moment that was.  It doesn’t always have to be the big grandiose things. 

The morale of this story is that right now, while we are in the throws of the holiday season, stop and listen to your loved ones.  Go back to bed and just listen. 

I guarantee they will remember that way more than how clean the kitchen floor is, how even the lights on the tree are or how you stayed up until midnight making twelve different types of Christmas cookies.

On this Thanksgiving Day, 2008, I have many things to be thankful for:

• I’m thankful for my health.
• I’m thankful for my wonderful job.  Especially in these scary economic times.
• I’m thankful for baby carrots that aren’t slimy.
• I’m thankful for the health of my family. 
• I am thankful I can still make my kid laugh until he gets the hiccups.
• I’m thankful that our current President only has 54 days left in office and that he can never EVER run for President again.
• I am very thankful for our 44th President.
• I’m thankful for all my friends.
• Especially My Person.
• I’m thankful for matching socks.
• I’m thankful that 2008 is almost over and I never have to repeat this year again.
• I’m thankful for this blog and all the wonderful friends I have “met” this past year.
• I’m thankful for Facebook and the joy that flinging food brings me.
• I’m thankful for my beautiful joyous boy who brings such light into my life.
• And I’m VERY thankful for my parents.  

What are you thankful for Internet?  Today, not only think about all the things to be thankful for, but give that thanks to those you love.

Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!

Wordless Wednesday

Benjamin Franklin once said, “In this world nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes”.  Except Dr. Franklin forgot one other constant of life.  That my son will end up in bed with me at some point during the night.  

This little tradition started, oh, as soon as he was sprung from his bedtime jail, a.k.a. his crib.  And now, 7 years later (yes, I was one of those suckers who thought it would be so cute for him to have his own little bed at the age of 1 1/2.  STUPID STUPID STUPID!  To any new mothers out there, keep them locked up as LONG AS YOU CAN!)  he still loves to sleep with his mama.

Minus the year exemption when I was living with my ex, this has been a nightly occurrence.  He always starts in his bed but at some point, “sleep walks” as he calls it, into mine. 

This was fine, somewhat acceptable even, when he was little and snugly and soft.  But now?  Now it’s like sleeping with a over-sized fish out of water. 

Flip.  Flop.  Flip. 

Make that an over-sized fish with super pointy sharp elbows and knees who loves to act out his dreams and therefore kick.  A lot. 

Make that an over-sized fish out of water, with sharp edges and a deviated septum.  Yes, THAT is what it’s like to sleep with Ben.  Any takers?

See this child?

He started out the night in his bed.  I know because I put him there.  This picture is taken in the morning.  Not in his bed.  In mine. 

I’m sure you are all saying, “Lady!  Get a grip.  Just put him back in his bed.”  Right.  Great.  Thanks.  It’s just not that easy.  We live in a loft where I sleep upstairs and his room is downstairs.   So I do feel a little bad for the guy.  He says it’s scary.  He says he believes in monsters.   I’m a sucker.  I believe him.

The other problem is that since I have a king sized bed, I often don’t notice him creeping in, until the snoring fish starts kicking and flopping.  And by that time it’s either already time for me to get up or I’m too tired to deal.  So instead I just kick him back and roll him over. 

But seriously, the dude is almost 9.  We both have made so many excuses.  “When we get a house, our rooms will be closer to each other.”  “When you are nine.  For sure when you are nine.”  “When a black Democrat with a middle name of Hussein becomes President.”

But now it’s time.  No more excuses.  Because the truth is I’m tired.  And call me crazy but I’m not really a fan of the kidney punch at 3am.

THE TIME HAS COME TO TAKE BACK MY BED!

Because this dude? 

Yeah, he’s still in my bed.

**Since we got our first snow last night that actually left about an inch or two on the ground, and I didn’t write over the weekend due to my West Death Nile Bird Black Flu, I give you this post that I wrote this summer and never got around to publishing.  You’re welcome.

Since it’s not very well known, it’s never crowded.   You can also bring in all your own food and beverages (juice and water of course… jeez what kind of mother do you think I am?  Bringing in chilled wine would be so great inappropriate) unlike the local pools where they want you to just eat THEIR concession food. 

And isn’t there just something about a beach?  Coming home with sand still in between your toes and on the bottom of your beach bag?  Sigh.  Heaven.
Days like these make me 1) want to marry Madison 2) make me so depressed that summer is almost over and 2) almost let me forgive Winter for the nightmare that it put us through this last year.

Key word ALMOST. You’re not off the hook yet Winter…

Coax Mother Nature into more days like this with a very long summer, and we’ll talk.

As Henry James so eloquently said: “Summer afternoon – summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language. ”

Today, I was on my death bed.   Today the West Black Bird Flu Nile Plague almost took me.   I saw the light out of the corner of my eye.  It might have been the nightlight in the bathroom, but regardless, there was a light.

A few short hours ago, there was an elephant who took permanent residence on my face and chest.  There were razor blades that went down my throat every time I swallowed.

Life, as I knew it was soon to be over.

It’s a good thing I’m a normally very healthy person, because as you can see it’s all about the drama when I’m under the weather.  The wimpiest guy has nothing on me.  Not only do I have a flair for the dramatic, but I’m the type that will literally walk around my apartment wrapped in blankets clutching my Kleenex and muttering to myself,  “Oh my god, I’m so sick.”    Really, it’s a wonder I’m single.

Even though breathing through my nose wasn’t my strong suit, my eyes looked like two piss holes in the snow and I could have flown Santa’s sleigh with my big red nose, I still managed the strength to make it to my hair appointment this afternoon.  W.B.B.F.N.P be damned!  Missing a hair appointment is just something that can’t happen.  Was I bleeding?  No.  Was I ejecting bodily fluids?  Nope.  Then I had no excuse.  Hell hath no furry as changing my appointment with my guy.  I might never make it into the rotation again.   Gasp!  The Horror!

It’s truly a fate worse than having the elephant on my chest never find another home.

Gratefully, I am not going to let this disease take my life.  I am rebounding.  Perhaps it’s the fantastic hair (the face still looks like shit) or the sheer excitement in me to watch Edward and Bella on the silver screen tomorrow night, but I’m happy to say I’m on the road to health. 

Let’s just hope I can get the nose to quit its water works performance so tomorrow I’m not known as Bozo instead of Becky.

If there is an Aldi’s grocery store in your area, and you haven’t been yet, please stop reading this and GO! 

Welcome back!  Wasn’t that awesome!?

For those of you that aren’t lucky enough to have an Aldi’s in your area, allow me to explain the bizarreness and fabulousness that is this 8th wonder of the world.  Ever wondered what it would be like to sell groceries at your garage sale?  Well, welcome to Aldi’s. 

First, you can’t just GET a cart.  No sir-ree!  That is reserved for those FANCY stores.  At Aldi’s, even though the ghetto is a good 20 miles away, you have to rent a cart for $.25.  Yes.  For real.

Saldy, since they don’t give you a handbook upon entering for your cherry voyage, I didn’t understand this concept until my son, on our 3rd trip there, figured it out. 
“Mom!  You put a quarter in here, and then the cart comes out.  And when we’re done, you put the cart back and it spits out your quarter.” 
FANTASTIC!

Aside from the carts on rent, the prices at Aldi’s are ridiculous.  They are easily 50% less than a normal grocery store.  They sometimes have brand names but more often than not, it’s some random Aldi’s brand.  Which really doesn’t matter because Ben and I can’t taste the difference in the cereal, chips, milk, yogurt, etc. 

All the food is in a very garage sale like setting.   Actually “setting” is too serious a term for their displays.  It’s more:
“Frank, I gots a new box of Cocoa Rice.” 
“Great Bob, just ah, open it up dere.  The folks can just get it out of dat box.  No need to actually take ‘er out of da big box.  Dat might make our prices go up.”

One of the other rockin’ things about Aldi’s is not only do they NOT bag for you, they don’t even HAVE bags.  You either have to bring your own (so environmentally friendly) or buy one for a nickel.   Ben and I have had many a fit of laughter while we tried to juggle our groceries sans cart or bag.  

When checking out they literally throw all your stuff in an empty cart which you take over to the side to bag up yourself.  You know you have hit Aldi’s royalty if the checker 1) makes eye contact with you and 2) tells you your total.  Otherwise you just have to look and figure it out yourself.  Oh and please don’t even think about using a credit card.  They only take cash and debit.

See?  Cheap prices + laughing + good food = happy people.

So last week over lunch, I stopped tp pick up some staples.   As I was walking in, a woman who was on her way to return her cart said, “Do you need a cart?” 

“Sure.  Thank you!” I said as I tried to hand her a quarter.

“No.  Keep it.”  she said.

“Thanks again!” I said as I happily walked into the store with a little spring in my step, plotting what awesome things I would do with my new twenty five cent fortune.

Once I had all my goodies, I got in line behind a nice woman, who even though she was struggling with her lot of food and her three year old, made room for me and found me one of those separator thingys.  

While I was putting my food on the conveyor belt, I overheard the guy behind me saying to an older gentlemen, “That’s all you have?  By all means, go ahead.” and ushered him forward.  Since such a beautiful lass as myself couldn’t possibly be without a man, this older guy thought we were together and reached over me to put his one box of cornflakes in front of my stuff.    Of course I didn’t say anything because this was a grocery store clearly full of love and magic and I wasn’t about to break that spell. 

Right as I was walking my cart, full of paid groceries, over to the side to pack them all up in my one sad little plastic bag, a woman came in with a ton of paper bags for people to have and use.   Again… FANTASTIC!

While I was about to put my cart away, after feeling the generosity of my fellow Aldi’s shoppers, I began to feel guilty for just taking my $.25 pot of gold.  Until what to my wondrous eyes should appear but a woman walking up towards the carts!

“Do you need a cart?”  I asked eagerly.

“Oh.  Yes.  Thank you!”  she said as she tried to hand me a quarter.

“No.  Keep it.”  I said.  “Some woman gave me this cart to use and now I’m giving it to you.  Maybe when you are done you’ll give it to someone else.  We’ll see how long we can keep this going.”

She laughed and said “Thank you!  I’ll do that…”  And off she walked into the glory that is Aldi’s.

It may not be much, but these strangers and their random acts of kindness in a discount grocery store, threw some sun on my otherwise very rainy, non eventful Wednesday.

Wordless CANNOTWAITFORTHISMOVIE Wednesday

Ben: Mom?

Me: Yeah honey?

Ben: What is the body part that has a circle and then like a little tail coming off of it.

My heart stops and my throat starts to close.  I knew this day would come but I didn’t really expect it on a Tuesday morning as I was getting ready for work.   So I stall.

Me: Um what?   A tail you say?

Ben: Yeah, it’s like a circle and then there’s this little squiggly tail coming off of it.  What is that?

Now I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, ready and physically stable to have The Conversation.  Yet I stall some more.

Me: Where did you see that honey?  

Ben: In The Sims.

Me: The SIMS?!? 

Sims doesn’t have ANYTHING graphic, let alone sperm running around.

Ben: Yeah a doctor in my Sims game pulled out this thing from a patient’s middle and it looked like a big circle with a tail.

Thank you baby Jesus, I’m saved!  I’m SO SAVED!

Me (with perhaps a little TOO much enthusiasm): A STOMACH!!  (arms shooting up in the arm like I just signaled a touchdown)  THAT’S THE STOMACH!!  Gross huh?

And I have never been more excited to talk about intestines and poop in all my life.

Change is a funny thing.  I used to be a firm believer that people didn’t really change.  We were who we were and that was that.   You played with the cards life dealt you. 

That was until it was ME that wanted to change.  Until it was me that WAS changing.  Until a dear friend said “Maybe you weren’t ready before.  Now you are.”

Without going into all the gory details, because god knows that laundry doesn’t need to be aired out for all, let’s just say I’m looking forward to a much simpler, much less stressful, happy life. 

And I realized just the other day, that without my even knowing it, my outsides had begun to match my insides.

Almost a year ago I went from being a very high maintenance blonde:

Back to my natural color:

Minus touch-ups for the gray that pushes it’s insistent self through.  Which to me, ISN’T natural.  How can a 22 year old go gray???

In addition, the other major change as of late is my nails went from these claws:

to these…

Sorry for making those of who have known me for my entire adult life pass out from the shock. 

You see, for the past 14 years (Yes, really. One. Four.) I have gone into the nail salon dutifully every two weeks.  Spending countless hours and countless cash for this upkeep. 

And then one day, a couple weeks ago, I literally couldn’t take it anymore.  It all of the sudden seemed so absurd and such a colossal pain in the ass.  I had this overwhelming feeling that I wanted them off.  That I needed THEM GONE.  NOW!  
And even though someone last Saturday night said, “What happened to your beautiful nails?  Last time I saw you they were so nice.”  I love this new part of me. 

Don’t worry my Minneapolis friends; I promise I haven’t turned into a total Madison Hippie.  I won’t start dating men who don’t shower and I won’t turn in my cotton for hemp.  I also won’t give up my heels for clogs…  Except, oops.  It might be a little too late for that one.

I know it’s not the end of 2008 and perhaps I should have saved all this great self reflection for a New Years Resolution.  But really?  Why wait?  Change is good.  It’s refreshing and hopeful.  And I’m happy.  I’m digging this new Mikkimoto. 

Just like my new weak baby nails that are finally seeing the light after being in the dark for more than a decade, we will both get stronger with time and cherish this new natural life. 

But um, if anyone has some good tips on how to get my rice paper consistency nails into something that resembles anything even remotely strong, PLEASE let me know. 

One day I’ll like to use my nails to scratch my head instead of the nearest utensil.