Monday.
Wow. Whoever thought of giving kids a break in the middle of February, when rain is on the forecast? Oh, the things I could do to YOU. I really think I heard the Heavens open and sing out this morning when the last one gave me a kiss and hopped out the door....

We're all back to normal now - no foreigners at our house, all in our own beds (well, except for Jordin who insists on being my personal bedtime bodyguard... ) and all back to school this morning. Sarah Beth is debuting her new hairstyle today to all the little snots in her class, and - Jordin, who cut off a chunk of her hair in a moment of complete boredom in the bathroom, would also be debuting a new style.

Oh - and, please pardon this random insertion... want to know my absolutley positively favorite thing about being tall? When people look at you, the first place they go is your feet - to check and see if you're wearing heels. No baby, this is just unadulterated height. No artificial preservatives. I want a shirt that says, 6'0"... that way people don't have to wonder. They could just read the shirt.... what a concept. Of course, then under the number, I would want the word, "no," as in - "No, I don't play or ever plan to play basketball. I actually detest basketball and everyone who stereotypes tall women as basketball players." Think they would get all that just from the "No"?

Want to read a great blog? Go and check out my new "friend" Dave's blog... Blogdaddy. It's a great one - I pull it up to read during my planning period at school, and a big red screen comes up flashing "PROHIBITED VIEWING MATERIAL." So, you know it's a good one. :-) I do love the controversy. You know, controversy like wearing pink fishnet tights to church on Sunday... that's my kind of Sunday.

Rachael

Rachael

New pictures for ya'll
(The Divas and their wedding)

Family traditions...  

Jordin 

The Divas do a wedding...  

My girls have not been in bed before 10 or 11 every night this week.... because of said company in the house, they've been "camping out" rather than sleeping in their beds.... so, could someone please, please explain to me what in the hell they are doing up at 7AM on the first morning that everyone is gone? Anyone?

We have to make three trips (count em, three) to the airport today. The girls and I are only volunteering for one of those - take my "friend" back to his plane home. More about my weekend later.

Rachael

Relationship Therapy 101
too much family time is a bad, bad thing

Let me just explain something to everyone... maybe this will stop further conversations with my mother, my Japanese sister and mother, her husband, my DAD (for goodness sakes) and my own sister and her boyfriend.....

Everyone listening?

Ok.

While you all think I am a fabulous girl (and damn, I do appreciate it) there are few things that actually make members of the opposite sex feel differently. I know it's a shocker, but - here they are in order......

1. I am twenty six years old, and divorced. (this is not average. what in the hell is she divorced at age 26 for? What did she do to the poor guy?)
2. I have two... count them, TWO children... GIRLS. (not that girls make it any worse... but you know, I COULD be one of those scary, psychopathic single women who is desperatley seeking a father for her children... Hello, Amber Frey... "I know we just went out once and all, but you don't mind picking the girls up from school and then taking them to dance and feeding them ... DO you?" I think the average single man my age is terrified of a woman with children... WAY, WAY too much pressure there.)
3. I am six feet tall. (and, while this alone wouldn't usually be a problem, the first two factors certainly limit the dating pool when you put all three together.... a tall, divorced mother of two... scary! However, a tall single redhead in a bar.... that might be a different story)

So. I understand that my friends and family think I am a great girl... supermom... and as cool as humanly possible. THAT makes me the happiest person in the world. It keeps my Superwoman cape tied securely around my neck, and makes those cute blue (or were they red) knee high boots fit EVERYTIME I try them on. Thank God. Those thoughts keep my going. And honestly, I am flattered that everyone thinks these things of me, and that we CAN have hour long torturous, agonizing, make-me-feel-like-you-are-pulling-my-toenails-out discussions about who I should date and who I shouldn't. But, mom and sisters, here is the bottom line..... (I can only say it here cause they will never, ever read it... lol)

1. I am not settling again. (did it once, I'll pass on round 2 and just wait it out)
2. Yes, I am picky. For a reason. (been married to the guy that was shorter than me for three or four years... I am over that novelty.)

I brought this entire thing on myself, by the way. I invited the man I know everyone loves to Atlanta this weekend, even though I am already ready to take him BACK to the airport before he's even here. So, a huge philosophical discussion of my dating life ensued. Yikes. It's a scary, scary topic.

And just for the record - if Mr.Right is reading.....

1. Yep, 26 and OH-SO-VERY-HAPPILY-DIVORCED. (I DO carry a DIVORCE card... lol) I really need one of those tags for my car, like the ones that say, "let me tell you about my grandchildren," that says, "let me tell you about my divorce." Summing it up in as few words as possible... we got married way, way too young when we thought we knew everything. One day, we realized we didn't. Ok?
2. I do have two girls... the sweetest, most cool, amazing little divas ever known to the south. We live in feather boas, high heeled plastic shoes, and glitter hairspray. We ride horses, ATV's, fish, camp, skate, color, play soccer, dance, and everything else under the sun. We exist to change Barbie's clothes, watch Princess Diaries, and read Junie B. Jones. They don't need another daddy - but you're more than welcome to hang out with us. ;-)
3. That's right... six feet tall. If you can handle it, and you're shorter than me... let me know. If not, be able to look me in the eye and tell me you love me... cause I learned early on that I really can't dance with someone shorter than me. :-) Thanks.
   
   Just be patient girls. Someone will think my Superwoman getup is cute eventually.
   
   XXOOX
   Rachael
   
   
   
   
   
   

Wedding Week Update
International Week continues...


Wheeeewwww... I am feeling soooo much LIGHTER after my post yesterday... like I am floating...

The big wedding is now two days away. Might I mention that I love weddings? Not really. I spent a year of my life planning them for other people, and soon realized that I really AM a bitter divorced woman, as well as hopeless romantic all at the same time. It's like having split personalities.

Today, we are meeting with the church wedding coordinator to "run through" the order of service. I am going along.

You know me and my small town redneck radar.... it's been ON all week. First, the stupid people at Regions bank wouldn't accept my "sister's" (hey, it's just easier calling her my sister than explaining away the whole exchange student story) traveler's checks... because, "they are in Japanese...." and they "don't accept Japanese traveler's checks." Well, sweetie - I could understand that ... however, just because they have Japanese characters on them, doesn't mean that US DOLLAR phrase written in plain English, or that HUGE MASTERCARD logo (again, plain English) don't mean a thang.

Hence, I made the teller feel really, really dumb, and the branch manager accepted the checks. This of course, was after a phone call on my cell phone while in the bank to Mastercard Traveler Services, in which I spoke to a sweet British lady who thought my accent was "charming." She spoke with the branch manager(on my minutes, I might add), explained the MASTERCARD UNIVERSAL logo, and the branch manager accepted the checks. No apology to my sister, by the way, after the teller handed them back to her as if covered in disease.

And then ... there's WalMart. I don't think people in WalMart have ever seen or heard of Japanese people before. Did we all have third arms? Oh, no - wait - that's just the stupid people staring and listening to a foreign language besides spanish... I mean, is there such a thing?

And have you ever noticed how LOUD people talk when they think you don't understand them? Two people that we knew stopped to speak to Nats (that's short for Natsuki)... they got really loud and really slow all of a sudden. Natsuki's eyes got real big. Hooowwwww aaarrrreee yooouuuu ddoooooiinnnnggggg????? Connnnngggggrrraaaattttuuuullllaaaaatiiiioooonnnnss.
Natsuki replied.... "thanks - we're totally excited to be here," in her perfect English. "Amazing," she said... "do they think if they are louder my mom will understand them?" No, Emiko just smiles and says, Thank you to everything. No matter how slow you speak, English doesn't get any easier. Get it?

Way to rooollll out the red carpet, Paulding. I am once again PROUD.

Playing my "KID" card
ooohhh, you shouldn't have gone there, honey...


Let me just say something.

There is one thing, more than anything, that I hate to hear come out of someone's mouth. I hear it often... and everytime I hear it, my skin crawls and I feel my eyes start to twitch.

"Oh, you're just playing your kid card."

You mommies know what I am talking about.
You make plans to go out with friends....
You buy a special outfit from the quarters you have stolen out of the piggy bank for such occasion....
You arrange a sitter and somehow skimp on gas money to pay said sitter....
You prearrange emergency phone numbers, hospital information, and etcetera.....
You get your nails AND toes done... cause any night out is worth at least good looking nails....
You buy that cute pair of shoes to go with the piggy bank outfit... hell, you already blew money on the outfit and nails... go for the feet too, honey
You have guilt for at least three days prior to going out because one or more of your children cries when they find out that, no, you won't be home for bedtime.....

And the night of, or - let's just say - the night or two before comes... and your children start throwing up - or, get a fever, or - come down with some sort of wild, rare once in a lifetime disease, that only children get. Or, maybe - God forbid, you have moment of realization about the expenses upcoming for raising said children... pictures, diapers, medicine, new shoes, birthday parties.... It always happens.

You call your friends, with complete nausea over the fact that yes indeed, you WILL forego another night out with the gang to play mommy. You will, once again, be responsible and balance the checkbook rather than live in sweet, margarita or martini denial... You will stay home and clean up throw-up or administer Motrin every two to three hours all night long... you will take care of sick husband.... and, yet...you hope for understanding, and want to cry because all you want is a few hours of freedom.... who cares what it costs?

And, on the other end of the phone... or, right to your face... some childless person (said friend) says to you....

"oh, so you're going to play the kid card......"

and after the feeling of complete abandonment leaves your heart, and you get over thinking that you are nothing but a mommy now, with no friends besides the ones that meet you at the park to chat while your kids run screaming at your feet... you think....

Let me just tell you something.
YOU GOT IT, SISTER.

I am playing my kid card. Let me get it out of my completely unorganized purse, buried under the miscellaneous McDonalds toys, the crumpled tissues, the broken crayons and the empty perscription bottles... ah yes, here it is.

My KID CARD.

And, sweetie - while we're talking about me playing my kid card, let's turn it over and read the back....

You see, DEAR, I have wiped so many behinds, snotty faces, tears, dirty hands and crumb ridden little mouths that I got this special membership. It didn't cost anything - not a dime... unless of course, you count the endless nights mothers spend trying to figure out how to make it all work, how to afford the school pictures, the cool tennis shoes, the best bookbag, and the most fun birthday party ever.... or, unless the countless tears mothers shed while watching their baby leave on the first day of school, walk for the first time, or just open their sweet eyes really add up to much. It gets me into special PTA meetings, parent-teacher conferences, preschool parties, and the skating rink on school nights... however, there are no spa memberships, frequent flier miles, or Jeffery Dollars awarded for using it at certain stores. I don't get a statement each month, unless that is, you count the reciepts I save from buying groceries, paying the pharmacy, or buying Circus tickets. Minimum payment is next to nothing, unless you really sit down and add up the cost of raising children... school, movies, clothes, food, toys, etc. . And, the only requirements of membership are my unconditional love... even when I really want to be somewhere ANYWHERE else on the planet. No matter how many snotty noses, dirty diapers, accidents, booboos, or tears... I just have to love them the same.

What? You're right... having this card doesn't get you much... unless you count....

• the first time you get to hold your newborn in your arms
• watching all those milestones, first smile, first word, first steps
• sending them off to Kindergarten for the first time, despite shedding mass amounts of tears
• having a best friend(s) that are smaller than you, constantly want to be with you, and think you are the greatest at everything
• watching them write their name for the first time (or, in Jordin's case, just not writing it backwards for the first time... God bless her)
• getting excited about buying Christmas toys
• throwing the first... and then numerous fabulous parties surrounded by your child's friends
• watching them tap across the stage at the first recital
• play their first notes on the piano
• bring home their first "art" project
• go to the first school function
• tell the first bedtime story
• going to see Santa for the first time
• having someone with you who thinks you look great in everything
• helping with the first math problem
• seeing the first "A"
• driving carpool everyday
• buying your first size three soccer ball
• tying the first tap shoes
• introducing them to the ocean
• building your first sandcastle
• neverending mini supplier of endless hugs
• having the same person crawl into your bed at 4AM every morning
• realizing you can't sleep without hearing them breathe three doors down the hall
• buying their first matching outfits
• loosing the first tooth
• forgetting to have the tooth fairy visit
• 
  the list could go on and on, honey. And, really - I guess those don't add up to very much... unless you think EVERYTHING is very much at all.

And, to the friends who have always understood, and loved me and my girls even more... I CANNOT WAIT till you have your sweet ones to share with me.... until then, PLEASE - feel free to borrow mine anytime.

Rachael

Carrying the "KID" card...
a rant on membership into the elite society...

This post will have to be a work in progress. Go and read my friend MALIA'S blog, and find out what I am going to rant about for at least the next few paragraphs. I absolutley love despise people who say things like this .... more later. Right now, I have to go wipe snotty noses and learn more Japanese..... just using my special "kid" card again.

Rachael

International Week
At least at our house, anyway.

So, so far this week we have three Japanese people, and by the end of the week we'll have four at our house - all for the big wedding. I've taught the girls how to say "thank you" in Japanese... A-R-I-G-A-T-O.... now, they've also learned "goodnight," "let's eat," and "Good Morning," as well. We're on a roll for most International Family Award, I'm sure... at least, by the number of stares our mixed family got in Kroger this morning, we're at least on the way.

Rachael

Winter Break
or, every parent's worst nightmare

Here we are again. Or, um - here we are for the first time, enjoying the freakin miserable ever-so-lovely concept of Winter Break. I must hand it to the Paulding County School System... once again - making us parents proud.

Who came up with this monstrosity of an idea? Did that person order miserable crappy weather at the same time? I'm just curious, that's all. I am pretty sure the person who planned this either, a. has a house in Aspen we don't know about... or, b. has no children of their own at home.

Productive? Oh yes. Let me just tell you. So far, the snotty nose girls and I have slept in until 10 AM, stayed in our PJ's until I basically forced them to dress, watched a movie (Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen) in the completely dark living room, and now - are preparing to have lunch at approximately 2:30 PM or so, give or take my blogging minutes.

So far - the day has been promising. Sarah Beth has marked her territory downstairs, claiming her entire bedroom area as "off limits" to Jordin. This of course involves much shouting and pushing. Then, Jordin has brought her entire toy collection it seems, upstairs to the spotlessly clean living room, and proceeded to turn said area into her own "Diva Dressing Room," complete with plastic Barbie hairdryer.... which I have no batteries for.

This all comes after a weekend debacle with Jim, Jordin and the ballet.... as well as my personal experience with Sarah Beth in Limited Too. Cursed is the person who owns that chain of stores. My wallet started screaming in agony when we went in. Call me a Target girl, but I just don't understand why my eight year old needs blue jeans that cost more than her six foot tall mommy's? Do you?

(more later. must do lunch before DFCS shows up)


Rachael

Oh Atlanta... I hear you callin'....
This came to me by email... so true it's scary.

This is for anyone who lives in Atlanta, who has ever lived in Atlanta, has visited Atlanta, ever plans to visit Atlanta, knows anyone who lives in Atlanta, knows anyone who has ever visited Atlanta or anyone who has ever heard of Atlanta, Georgia.

Atlanta is composed mostly of one way streets. The only way to get out of
downtown Atlanta is to turn around and start over when you reach Greenville, South Carolina. All directions start with, "Go down Peachtree" and include the phrase, "When you see the Waffle House." Except that in Cobb County, all directions begin with, "Go to the Big Chicken and..." Peachtree Street has no beginning and no end and is not to be confused with Peachtree Circle, Peachtree Place, Peachtree Lane, > Peachtree Road, Peachtree Parkway, Peachtree Run, Peachtree Trace, Peachtree Avenue, Peachtree Commons, Peachtree Battle, Peachtree Corners, New Peachtree, Old Peachtree, West Peachtree, Peachtree-Dunwoody, Peachtree-Chamblee, or Peachtree Industrial Boulevard. Atlantans only know their way to work and their way home. If you ask anyone for directions they will always send you down Peachtree. Atlanta is the home of Coca-Cola. That's all we drink here, so don't ask for any other soft drink unless it's made by Coca-Cola. And even then it's still "Coke." A carbonated soft drink isn't a soda, cola, or pop...it's a Coke, regardless of brand or flavor.

Example: "What kinda coke you want?"

Gate One at Atlanta's Hartsfield International Airport is 32 miles away from the Main Concourse, so wear sneakers and pack a lunch. It's impossible to go around a block and wind up on the street you started on. The Chamber of Commerce calls it a "scenic drive" and has posted signs to that effect, so that out-of-towners don't feel lost...they're just on a scenic drive."

The 8:00 AM rush hour is from 6:30 to 10:30 AM. The 5:00 PM rush
hour is from 3:00 to 7:30 PM. Friday's rush hour starts Thursday afternoon, and lasts through 2:00 AM Saturday.

"Sir" and "Ma'am" are used by the person speaking to you if there's
a remote possibility that you're at least 30 minutes older than they are.

A native can only pronounce Ponce De Leon Avenue one way, so do not
attempt the Spanish pronunciation. People will simply tilt their heads to the right and stare at you. The Atlanta pronunciation "pahnss duh LEE-on"

The fall of a raindrop makes everyone forget all traffic rules. If a single
snowflake falls, the city is paralyzed for three days, and it's on all the
TV channels and radio stations as a news flash every 15 minutes for a month. All the grocery stores will be sold out of milk, bread, bottled water, toilet paper, and beer. If there is a remote chance of snow, and if it does snow, people will be on the corner selling "I survived the blizzard" tee-shirts, not to mention the fact that all schools will close at the slightest possible chance of snow.

The pollen count is off the national scale for unhealthy, which
starts at 120. Atlanta is usually in the 2,000 to 4,000 range. All roads, vehicles, houses - everything - is yellow from March 28th to July 15th. If you have any allergies, you will die. But other than that, it's a great place to live!

There are 5,000 types of snakes and 4,998 live in Georgia.

There are 10,000 types of spiders. All 10,000 live in Georgia, plus a couple
no one's ever seen before.

"Onced" and "Twiced" are actual words.

It is not a shopping cart, it's a buggy.

There ain't no such thing as "lunch." There's only dinner - and, then, there
is supper.

'Jeetyet?' is actually a phrase meaning "Did you eat yet?"

You install security lights on your house and garage - and then leave both
unlocked.

The Atlanta Journal Constitution covers national and international news on one page, but need 6 pages for local gossip and sports.

You know whether another Georgian is from north Georgia, south Georgia or middle Georgia as soon as they open their mouth (Albany = All benny)

Going to Wal-Mart is a favorite past time known as "goin wal-martin" or "off to Wally World"

Sweet Tea is appropriate for all meals and you start drinking it when you're
2.

I found this to be oh so very true about we Atlantans. I really do say "Wally World." For the longest time, SB thought it was an amusement park.

Not so bad after all.
So. I was going to post old romantic stories for you... but I got a little distracted.
Distracted because I came home and found flowers and candy... just for me... and from a member of the opposite sex who is not Jim or my dad. Yay.
More later. Must deal with the ailing SB. Fever, headache. Fun.

The incredibly happy
Rachael

valentines day hell....
I hate today. Check back later and I will post some fun stories about Valentines Day... you can cut and paste the little topics into your own blog and answer the questions with your own stories! :-) Hve fun... :-) Anyone want to send me flowers or anything? Well, just in case - I am working all day today at Dobbins Middle School.... I can always make time for a Valentine delivery! Just kidding everyone - have a great day!

Rachael

conversation
(my phone rings at 7:20 PM on Saturday night, a call from Jim, who is keeping the girls....)

Me: Hello? Is everything ok?
(I alwaaaaays ask this.)
Jim: Well, (sniffle) I was just calling because (sniffle) I am not really feeling too well....
Me: Are you ok?
Jim: Yes, I think I just ate something bad (sniffle,cough)
Me: So, why are you calling? Do you need me to pick up the girls?
Jim: Well, (sniffle) I mean, I don't want to take away from your weekend or anything... (sniffle,cough) I was just thinking I might bring them home early.
Me: Jim?
Jim: Yeah?
Me: Who do you think keeps them when I am sick? Tough it out.

Valentine Sweetness
Jordin: "Mommy, did daddy marry you because you were the prettiest girl?"

Mommy: "Of course."



Rachael

Sarah Beth goes to Washington
Buckle up, DC

It appears SB will be making her first political journey at the ripe old age of eight. That's right.... on March 5th, she'll board a plane with my dad and take Washington DC by storm. My dad travels there about once a year to do his political council thing... and this year, SB is joining him. Having a republican conservative daughter, I guess he thought he should go ahead and start the democratic brainwashing early.

So - Washington - put on your seatbelts... nail everything down. Sarah Beth has a list of places she wants to see, and people she'd like to meet. While her aspirations are a little on the lofty side, I still think you all should prepare yourselves... "why?" reamins her favorite question.

Shell get to have dinner with Ted Kennedy and friends... I am reserving comment.

Rachael

What a life, baby... what a life
notes on my exciting lifestyle

Well. It's 10:23 PM. I am busy being me. This involves:

• waiting on washing machine to finish so I can dry clothes (especially Jordin's PJ's for tomorrow... it's PJ Day)
• making long mental to do list that will never be accomplished before bedtime
• researching the Underground Railroad for a bulletin board project at SB's school (yep, that's me Miss Multicultural Mommy)

Actually, in hindsight, my normal life involves none of the above. No. None of it.

• I would never really be that concerned about laundry
• denial is a beautiful thing - and I often prefer NOT to think about all the things I can't get done in even an unreasonable amount of time
• I must've lost my mind when I volunteered to do the bulletin board. I despise all those PTA mommies, and after all, I am not exactly a multicultural expert.... besides, if I were GOING to do a project, I would typically procrastinate until the absolute last minute.

Hmmm. Something must be amiss. Is there a full moon soon or something?

Sarah Beth's school has brillantly decided to have Vday festivities on Friday instead of on Monday. This sucks because now, I cannot possibly procrastinate going out and letting the girls choose their own special 2.99 box of flimsy Valentines. I used to make SB's... I mean, what child would not love to have awesome handmade Valentine cards to hand out to all their friends? Well, I'll tell you who... my kid. The anal one. Last year, in our private school prissiness... I handmade twenty little sticker books, and included stickers for each. SB was a little less than enthused... she just wanted Spongebob or Lizzie McGuire or something like that. I vowed never again. So, they are elated that they get to pick out their own this year. Whatever.

Jordin is celebrating Vday NEXT Friday, the 18th. What the @#@(#* is up with not just having a Valentines party on Valentines day? What? Anyway, feeling VERY VERY dillusional, I signed up to bring cupcakes and goody bag treats. I am a cupcake freak. THIS is the cupcake I really want to do for the party. I can promise you it will involve me cussing like a sailor. I also love THIS cupcake, but - I think the vulgar language would defeat the "love" theme. I'll keep you posted on how it actually goes.

Anyway. If you want to see more precious Vday ideas... check out Family Fun's website, a magazine we love at our house. :-)

File under: organized mommy
um, at least today anyway


So. In keeping with my new, fabulous organized lifestyle.... this morning the girls and I left ON SCHEDULE at 7:30. I mean - we left together - breakfast in our tummies, both shoes on our feet, hair looking good, mommy not totally ready to go off the deep end ... TOGETHER.

Last night, I washed the rock star hair (dear God, someone please talk me into cutting my hair... I really, really think I am too old for long hair and sadly enough I think I should keep it long because Jim and Sarah Beth think it's pretty) and even decided what I would wear today. Wow. That's a concept.

This morning, I didn't make it up at the desired hour of 6AM - slept "in" till 6:30 - made hot breakfast for the girls (toast, bacon, eggs) and then got them up and fed. Anyway, to make a long and horrifyingly boring story SHORT - we were ready to go on time. YAY us.

For tomorrow - I think I will attempt 6:00 wake up call again - God knows that won't happen - and then go for leaving five minutes early.

If this becomes a trend, you all are in trouble.

(oh, and did I mention we cleaned out the car and reclaimed control of the automobile??? The PopTart crumbs were taking over.....)

Rachael

I have now officially Blogged for 1.5 hours. Enjoy. :-)

things I absolutley despise LOVE about being a single mom
oh yes, it's Rachael ranting again ... file under the single fabulous life


I realized the other day while updating my Classmates.com profile that there is a category I just don't see... you see, currently, my "relationship status" is "single and loving it." I hate that. I am certainly NOT single and loving it. I am actually, single and ready to tear my hair out hating it... does anyone know how hard it is to date and be a single mom? Balancing the two are like balancing crystal plates on your head - and baby, I ain't graceful.
I have decided that there are things that make my skin crawl... and sadly enough, most all of them relate to being single... in order, here they are.

"Oh Rachael, don't worry... the right man will come along...."
Um... okay. But, are you sure? Does that mean I must put up with all the other "wrong" men until I am insane enough to just let my guard down and trust the right one???? And besides, I am tired -TIRED I tell you - of waiting on the "right" man. Maybe... just maybe I will lay my head down to rest for five minutes from waiting on the right one and he will stop by while my eyes are closed... hmm?? What if??

"But Rachael, Jim is so handsome...."
Yeah, let me just tell you - I thought so too... trust me. I know this is the first time you're meeting him and all, but you know, you get over the boyish good looks at about 1.5 years into the marriage. The other stuff, you know -the less boyishly good looking stuff takes over, and your vision becomes clouded. I just don't know what I was thinking... how could I not want to be with someone who is so handsome. Yack.

"when you least expect it, that's when you'll meet the perfect man...."
Oh, dear. What if I have food in my teeth or a bad hair day or a run in my tights or the wrong color mascara? I can't even describe the pressure. It's tremendous.

Of course, truth be told - I actually DO appreciate the things people say to me to encourage me. I am however, worried that I might miss Mr. Right in the crowd..... until then, even though I might say I hate it, please keep laying it on thick - because, I often need to be told that there is a small, tiny, microscopic light at the end of the proverbial tunnel - and telling me that Jim is oh so handsome might keep me from complete insanity. Seriously.

I mean that part about Jim. SOMEONE needs to tell me he has one small redeeming quality.

organization and stuff
(stuff being the operative term here)

So.

I am not very organized.

I know, I know... surprise, surprise, you must be thinking.

Let me just tell you. IF for some grotesque and unGodly reason - my head wasn't screwed on straight - that might be lost too.

I can't find ANYTHING. EVER. I am always missing a shoe, a sock, a pair of jeans, my purse, my carkeys, my wallet, my checkbook.... missing some appointment, arriving late to church.... it seems that, for me at least, being disorganized has been transformed into a fine art that somehow defines me to others.

I buy calendars... really I do. I have a GREAT planner - it's awesome... I have had it for two years now, and I realized the other day (see post about the FairyTale Day debacle) that I should actually start using the damn thing. I mean, I have carried it around PRETENDING to be organized or quite some time. Amazing concept, really... writing down dates and times of where you need to be when. I can even keep up with when I am working in there... isn't that the coolest? So, I am mentally exhausted. Not because I wrangle middle schoolers all day - but honestly because I have been carrying around my planner, with complete knowledge of what's going on this week with me at all times. For example, let me just tell you that:

• Tomorrow, February 8th, Jordin has Spring portraits made at school. (this involves a lot of brown background and a live bunny... I think we'll pass on this one)
• Tomorrow, February 8th, Sarah Beth has a Language Arts test. (I know this because on her last test, she made a 40.... got to retake it and make a 70.... I felt exactly how "Mother of the Year" must feel everyday )
• Thursday, February 10th, Jordin has "P" Day at school... PJ's, Pizza and Pepsi (you know, writing it in the calendar is all you can ask... I didn't sign up to bring anything)
• Friday, February 11th, I am substitute teaching for Mr. Schmidt. (ewww... is this getting scary YET?)

As a small preview for next week, I can tell you that Jordin has a Valentines Day party on the 18th (don't ask me why), and a Field Trip to the Library. Also, the girls are scheduled to go to Jim that weekend.

I am tired of just feeling frantic all the time. Frantic, I tell you, frantic. I hear from people all the time... "oh...." (use lamenting, sad tone here) ".... it must be so hard to be a single mom... trying to keep up with everything....." No, I think - it's no different than keeping up with everything as a married woman - only less man to deal with while keeping up with said amounts of information.... however, as a token of courtesy to all adoring fans of poor divorced Rachael Club, I decided to start at least LOOKING like I have it all pulled together. Hence the actual USE of my planner.

I also cleaned OFF my desk this week. CLEANED IT OFF. I threw away the million and a half papers, coupons, business cards, and etcetera that were overtaking my desk domain. I save things forever... for ridiculous amounts of forever. No, I do not need the Bath and Body Works coupon that expired in October, even though I do want to ask them if they still carry the scent pictured on the coupon... I don't need an expired coupon... hey - I could write it in my planner. These three million letters from the girls schools.... why don't I write the one sentence down I need to know on the appropriate date in my planner???? There is hope yet.

So. This is Me. Rachael Elizabeth Thackston - with a vow to become (ok, sooner or later) the Organization Diva. Get ready girls, cause here I come.

Rachael

Isn't this cute? 

Sarah Beth's Valentines Drawing... hope you can see how adorable it is.... :-)  

Cool? Not so much.
sort of dorky story but I thought it was funny

I had a major revelation today. Incredible. It made me shudder.
I worked today at the new local high school... Hiram High School, to be exact - making me feel as though I was "cheating" on my usual middle school. I filled in for a parapro who works with the physically handicapped children - which was awesome. I laughed the entire day with them... it didn't feel like work at all. I think that is a wonderful feeling.

But let me just tell you. Your normal, everyday high schoolers are just damned intimidating. BIG kids ... HUGE... all dressed completely perfectly and all have highlighted hair and some sort of piercing.... everyone has a cell phone, a car - designer shoes... what happened??

I am standing in the student/teacher basketball game this afternoon - and my friend (well, sort of my friend - we're friends now, I guess) Bo Southerland (that's Mr. Southerland now, to all you laypeople) walks over and stands next to me. Funny, I remember him being shorter... but anyway.

He says, "God, Rachael, we used to be the cool kids in school.... "

I say... "We were cool, weren't we, Bo? I mean, do we think we were cool, or - were we really cool?"

"No," he says - "we were cool. We used to be these kids... funny how I don't feel so cool right now."

" I know," I say, "Me either."

I know ya'll wished I would post something new... don't worry, I am trying. I am pooped... started this week "walking" in preparation for the Atlanta 3-Day Walk for Breast Cancer in September... 3 miles every day ... that's THREE miles, people. Damn, I am out of shape. This should help... RIGHT? RIGHT?

I will have an updated blog later tonight.

:-)
Rachael

The Tuesday Hustle....
(begin humming lyrics and music to... "Do the Hustle..." NOW)

Tuesdays suck.

That's right... for our family, Mondays are always awesome. We get up, have a little breakfast, do a little teeth brushing ... and we're off... and usually on time, too! Drop em' off at school, go to said school of choice for the day - work - come home - chill.

Tuesdays, however.... whoa Tuesdays.

The tension starts as soon as the last bell at Dobbins Middle School rings. I can feel my nerves fray almost automatically (I guess for my nerves, this is a defense mechanism at this point in my life), I get hungry, thirsty, and rush out to my car. Off to pick up the tired and cranky Jordin from daycare.... and find her with the 30+ other "afterschoolers", who range in age from preschool to fourth grade.... I gather her as quickly as possible from the monkey pit that is their classroom, and rush her into the bathroom... begging her to go potty NOW rather than later, I resort to a shameful parenting tactic... bargaining....

"If you go potty now, (and not pee in your pants or otherswise later) then you'll be all ready for dance... and mommy will just have to find you a treat."

Shameful, I tell you. Downright shameful.

The ever so cooperative (imaginge that) Jordin puts a three gallon size bladder's contents into the potty - and we change from school wear to dance wear. After asking Jordin three times to take off her shoes and socks, and reassuring her that it's really ok to wear panties under your leaotard, we bundle up and rush out the door.

I am breaking some sort of speed limit, I am sure - but we make it to dance by 4:35, and I am really not sure how.... Jordin skips back to rehersal room, and I chat it up with the other mommies for ten or so minutes... get comfortable in my chair....

OH MY... I FORGOT SARAH BETH.

She usually gets gathered up pre-arrival at the dance school.... in between daycare and dance. However, today - thinking I would save myself some time and skip some traffic - we went the back way.... no traffic - but hey, no eight year old daughter, either! OOPS!

Rush back to McGarity and pick up SB... the wild, Ihavehadwaywaywaytoomuchfun during ASP kind of SB. She comes to me with her shoes off, her hair in a complete mess, and unable to make silence for any length of time. (sigh... the day gets longer and longer, I think)

Throw SB in the car and threaten her life - her tv priviledges ... you know - the odl, getyourshoesbackonandputyourhairbackrightnoworelse routine... run over to Target, return too small pants of Jordin's that have been screaming my name for almost a month now... get the whiny SB a snack of any edible substance.... and go back to Dance School.

Play "hide and seek" game involuntarily with Jordin for almost half an hour - pull her out of costume closet, missing one shoe and drag her to the car. Ever cheerful, elated Jordin talks nonstop the entire way home (all ten minutes of it), starting each sentence with "Guess what Mommy," and sometimes breaking the rule of using a "guess what" within a "guess what."

Peeling my nerves off the windshield, I tow both children home - pull in the driveway and ask both girls to gather THEIR things from the car. You would think I have asked Jordin to catch the moon with a fishing pole - she suddenly becomes very insulted that one might ask a princess to carry so much her two bags in the house. This starts a downward spiral into the wails of "I want my daddy," a usual cry for help amongst children of divorced parents complete copout.

After situating children with grandparents, I grab my bible study stuff and fly out the door to make the twenty minute + drive into almost Rockmart to bible study. And you KNOW I am so relaxed when I get there....

Anyone wanna trade?


Rachael