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21
May

The 10 Plagues

posted by rachel, May 21, 2012

I’m growing more and more convinced every day that the apocalypse is swiftly approaching.

That, or possibly a Red Sea redux. And I’m thinking that this fortune cookie (which isn’t EVEN a fortune – more like an omen) just might have been right!

Case in point: there was that epic hail storm, death of the firstborn when our dog died a few years back, then the most recent plague of pestilence which hath destroyed our grass. And now, in the past week, it seems we have encountered boils and bugs. I can only imagine what is coming next. Blood in our faucets?

Really, the so-called boils were not that big of a deal. Jude has such sweetly sensitive skin like me. He got heat rash that looked less-than-appealing which got him promptly sent home from school.

But the bugs? Oh guys. I about died. So here’s what happened -

Sunday, we were sitting in the church service. The pastor came up onto the stage, and being a note-taker, I reached into my purse to grab a pen. I couldn’t feel it, so I finally looked over into my purse and started digging around. As I finally found the pen, I notice something wiggling and I tell you, Internet, it was all I could do to keep from screaming right as the pastor launched into his sermon. There, inside my beautiful bag, was a new friend! A cockroach! Happily ensconced in the fanciest house it has surely ever known! I carefully pushed the purse as far away from me as I could without seeming too obvious. And then the next 30 minutes passed painfully slowly as I thought about the dozen times I had blindly reached into my purse all morning long to grab a pen, or apply some lipstick. I kept furtively looking at the bag, expecting to see the “new friend” creep its way out of the bag and horrify all the other people sitting around us. It was like that time in the 9th grade when I burned my hair in charred clumps with my curling iron before school, and as it molted off my head all day long, all I could think during 3rd-period Algebra was, “Dear Lord, please don’t let my dead hair fall off my head onto Lee Hand’s lap behind me. My life will be OVERRRRR.”

As the sermon ended and the music began, I whispered into Simon’s ear, “I have to go to the bathroom!” And then looking ridiculously prim, I shimmied outta there holding the bag away from me. Again, without seeming too obvious. I went into the bathroom and promptly freaked out and dumped the entire contents of the bag. But there was no cockroach. Did I dream it? I shook the bag again. And there, in slow motion, flew out the bug. I’m sure it was sad to leave its leathery happy home.

Are you horrified yet? Because I am still cringing from the entire experience. Spiders? Sure. Wasps? Hate ‘em, but I can deal with ‘em. But cockroaches?!?!?!?! That’s gotta be my kryptonite.

As we walked to Jude’s class to pick him up, I casually said to Simon, “Sooo, you know how I had to go to the bathroom during church?”

“Uhhh… where is this going?”

“Oh, well, it’s because I opened my purse and, oh, you know, FOUND A COCKROACH.”

“WHAT!”

Now listen. I don’t blame you if you don’t want to sit by me in church now. I don’t know that I want to sit by me now!

Now excuse me while I call every exterminator on the planet. And prepare for the coming apocalypse.

Let's Chit-Chat { 7 }

3
May

Balloon Animal

posted by rachel, May 3, 2012

Internet, prepare to become a fool if you ever have babies. A fool for LOVE. And as we all know, love makes us do some pretty silly things. We won’t mention that time when I created an entire website to ask Simon to attend my sorority prom/dance/whatever you call it back in college. Nope. Not gonna talk about how cringe-inducing THAT was.

So you do crazy things for love because you’re head over heels in love with that man. But then you go and have his babies and WHOAH NELLIE. A whole new level of humiliation ensues. You begin making crazy faces to make that baby smile. You hop up and down on one foot to make them laugh. You read Green Eggs & Ham at ungodly hours of the morning because they are just so darn precious with their little boy morning breath and you cannot help yourself. No. No, you cannot. You sing “Little Bunny Foo Foo”. IN PUBLIC.

And then there was tonight. We were driving home from having supper, which, naturally, included having a balloon animal made by the local clown. (No, I’m not being mean, he really was a clown.) Can I be frank? Our track record with balloon animals is deplorable. Goldfish from Walmart have better hopes of living a high quality of life with us than balloon animals. (Which leads us to a whole other discussion about why I excel at keeping myself, my child, and my husband alive, but NOTHING ELSE. Not even grass.) Anytime the balloon animals meet their untimely but expected demise, Jude erupts into unintelligible sobs. So as we headed out into the windy evening, I made sure to hold steady to the balloon poodle, named Comet Nutcracker Santa Claus. Then, as we drove, ambling through the neighborhood, I decided to roll the windows down in the car.

What happened next was nothing short of fate. It was like an invisible hand reached into the car – I kid you not – and snatched up poor doomed Comet Nutcracker Santa Claus. And I found myself literally gasping as I watched the balloon animal get sucked out of the car. Simon saw it and he too felt what was unsaid between us: “What do we tell Jude?!”

I know. Dramatic for a balloon animal.

So what did we do? After a couple of minutes, Simon turned that car around and I began searching the horizon for Comet. Simon spotted him (her? it?), and slowed the car down. Jude is still clueless as to what we are doing. Simon rolls the car to a stop and I leap from the car across the street and grab the sopping wet balloon animal out of the gutter where it is now covered in crap just as a pair of too-cool-for-school guys are jogging by. I spring back to the car in my skirt and hand the balloon animal back to Jude.

“Smooth move there! Hehehehe Nice save har har har” chortle the joggers.

Excusez-moi?

HARDY HAR HAR HAR. See how funny YOU are, Mr. Fancy Pants Jogger Man in the face of a sad & crying boy missing his beloved balloon animal! Hrmph.

And when we get home? Yup. There lies Comet Nurcracker Santa Claus forgotten. On the floor. So glad I bothered springing across the street in my short skirt, facing humiliating hipster joggers.

Fool for love, I tell ya.

Let's Chit-Chat { 1 }

3
May

Thirty-One

posted by rachel, May 3, 2012

Yesterday was my 31st birthday. I’m happy to say that the day passed in superb fashion thanks to my darling little family. Jude in particular was in high form as he referred to me as “Your Highness” all day long. No, really – he did! My mother spoiled us rotten earlier in the week by having 2 dozen cupcakes delivered to our house, which we promptly devoured and then split the remainder of the spoils with friends & family in the neighborhood, including Susan, Rita, and my sister.

Thirty was a great year to me, despite my initial freakout over the number. Professionally, I had the best year of my career yet. And while there was illness & struggles in our family, we weren’t defeated by it. I was telling Simon just the other day that while I am still sad that we suffered the loss of miscarriage, I wouldn’t have been able to do as much professionally this year. I looked at him and asked, “Is that a weird thing to say?” He looked at me with eyebrows raised and said, “No, that’s called making lemonade when life gives you lemons.”

Or something to that effect.

Regardless, I thank God for another amazing year and look forward to the next one.

And hoping also that Jude continues to refer to me as Your Highness. My rightful title.

Also, Future Wife of Jude? You’re welcome.

Let's Chit-Chat { 5 }

19
Apr

Growing up

posted by rachel, April 19, 2012

This morning we were getting ready for the day. Jude bopped into the bathroom when I called him into brush his teeth and get his hair in some semblance of order.

“MOM! Can you fix my hair to make it stand straight up?”

“Like a mohawk? Like we do in the bathtub sometimes?”

“YEAH!”

Seeing as how we are no strangers to big hair around here (ahem. Referencing photo below), I thought, sure. Let’s mohawk it up. Why not?

This sense of boundless enthusiasm and one-of-a-kind personality is what I adore about Jude. I love that he’s his own man and I see an individuality in him that I’m sure every mother sees in her own child. And I love that he’s fearless. Simply put, he’s just Jude.

So we faux-hawked him in the bathroom and I giggled as I applied all kinds of special hair creams to make it stand up. I told him to run into his Daddy and show him. Proudly he scurried off and I could hear him exuberantly telling Simon about fixing his hair.

But then, about 15 minutes later, he comes crying to me as I wrapped up fixing my (big) hair. “Mommy, I want you to put my hair down,” he sobs.

“What? Why?” I ask, confused at the sudden turn of events.

“I don’t want the kids to laugh at me at school today.”

Guys, at this point my heart pretty much shattered into about a billion pieces. And I struggled with words as I thought about all the different things I wanted to say. Of course I don’t want kids to laugh at him, but at the same time, I wonder, “Why are kids so mean?” And then, “They were mean when I was a kid, too, come to think of it.” So I stood there and softly brushed out the fauxhawk and we had a little talk about things. I walked away from the conversation feeling unsettled. It’s just hair, and I’m sure that now, hours later, he’s completely forgotten all about it.

I remember my mother distinctly and specifically telling me through the years, “Rachel, you have got to be yourself. That’s all there is to it.” And, as mothers tend to be, she was right. The few times in my life when I’ve sunk into sadness have been when I haven’t been true to myself, when I’ve let others’ perceptions become more important than who I am and what I know to be true. Being true to yourself is tough. It often means going against the grain, and being totally different than anyone else. It’s fraught with periods of loneliness because, well, sometimes being your own person means going against everybody else. And frankly, They don’t always like that, do They?

I look at Jude and I want to say the same thing. “Baby, you’ve got to be yourself. That’s all there is to it.”

Let's Chit-Chat { 11 }

21
Mar

Remember when Simon had long hair?

posted by rachel, March 21, 2012

Last night I was perusing my 360+ pages of photos on Flickr when I stumbled on these pics of us from circa 2001. It was right after Christmas, and my family had gone on vacation to San Diego. We were BABIES. Absolute babies. Apparently I was in a brunette era (I went through a brief phase of dyeing my hair a variety of shades – red, brown, blonde).

And Simon? He was YANNI. I mean, c’mon. Check out that glossy man-Pantene hair! It was fabulous!