Worst. First/ Last. Date. Ever.

Its been a zillion years or so since I was in the dating scene. But sometimes I like to reminisce, just to remind myself how awesome my hubby is. 

The guy. He was the older brother of a guy I went to school with. Like his little brother was hawt (totally would have settled for him), so obviously HIS older brother was the bees knees, right? Genes, DNA all that jazz. Plus, older brother was a huge football star in high school.

But this wasn’t high school. It was 8 years after. His glory days were 8 years ago and he had conceded to that fact. So he took up a hobby in his free time and decided to share that hobby with me, on our first date.

Metal detecting. Give it a try “Her et al.” this could be romantic out in nature, just me and him. I was like 92% sure he wasn’t going to kill me, I knew his family! What on earth could go wrong? 

Everything. Every. Damn. Thing. First off, he was convinced he would strike it rich, hit the big one with his mad metal detecting skillz. Meaning I, the amature, could quite possibly ruin his chance at fame and fortune! Therefore I was not allowed to hold the detector. Nor was I allowed to do the digging. Nor was I allowed to make recommendations. Nor was I allowed to break his concentration. 

So I sat my skinny butt (I just wanted to highlight the fact that I was skinny at this time in my life) in the grass in the shade and waited. He found .07¢.

I didn’t drive. That was my ultimate mistake. I had no way to bail on this date. If I had, I would have just gone to my car and left after an hour. But because I didn’t, I sat there for FOUR HOURS!!

Man, “Her et al.” that really was a crappy date….but wait, there’s more. He took me home, went in for the kiss to which I informed him I never kissed on the first date (big ol lie there, I love making out,) and I ran. Ran like someone was changing me!

Turns out, that nice shady spot under the tree that I found? Was home to poison ivy. Can you top me? I’ll mail you a sympathy card if you can top that horror story!

 Edited to include full picture of my artwork. Clearly the highlight of my story!

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My Child is “Gifted” and Other Oxymorons

I despise the eyerolls I get for talking about my struggles with a gifted child. But there are days I wish I’d kept the recipt for her “gifts”. I could walk into the hospital she was born in and say, “I’d like to return her ‘gifts’ and just get her with a normal brain, please.”

Today was a day I wish she wasn’t so smart. I found out today that she essentially had no math class at the end of the year. At her elementary school the children are given a pretest for the chapter they are about to learn (math pre-test). If they get a 100%, they sit at their desk and do “independent learning”. Well, she got the Harry Potter series last summer and she decided to only wanted to get the math chapters wrong that she thought looked like fun…charts, graphs, and so on. And the rest of the time she read. The 7 books of the Harry Potter series two times during school year.

Gifted is not always a gift. She is starting to have more anxiety about things she cannot control like other drivers on the road or people who are sick. And she has “ticks” that are showing up more often. She doesn’t feel like girls her age like the same things. She was embarrassed in kindergarten because she was the only kid reading chapter books. She gets in trouble 3-4 times a week for getting bored and then doing pirouettes or reading her books when she’s not suppose to be reading or talking to someone.  

And schools. Public schools where we are simply do not care about children who are ahead. She brings in 99’s in every standardized test she’s ever had and that makes them happy. But challenging her is not something they want to worry about. No charter schools here and the private religious based schools operated the same way as the public schools. I asked to advance her a year and was told that they don’t do that. Now here’s where shared parenting sucks. I would love to home school and her dad is too concerned about her becoming a weirdo. 

So there she sat. At the back of the classroom in her own little world with her Harry Potter books. All year long. What a waste. 

 

I Worked Out Today. It’s Called Kegals. 

I had influenza B pretty much all of April. No, the flu does not involve vomiting or other GI concerns. I’m talking the cough from hell! Fever, bodyaches, congestion. The real influenza. 

As the mother of two vaginally delivered daughters, I learned during April that I do not kegal nearly enough. Yes, I peed my pants. Everyday. No, every time I had a coughing episode. Super sexy, let me tell you. 

Went from panty liners to pads and then the pads got bigger because there was NO way I was buying Depends. Strengthen those pelvic floors ladies! Kegal till the cows come home. Because once you have a cough, it’s too late to realize you’ve not kegalled enough!

Don’t get to the point where you’re considering Depends. Because Depends are for when you’re so old, you’re cute again.

“I stuck”-Occupational Hazards of Being a Toddler 

 In honor of my 2 year olds birthday today,  I’m releasing a collection of photographs over the last year. These pictures are from actual events in which she has been stuck or has claimed to have been stuck. The first picture is my favorite because of the irony written on her onesie. She was “stuck” in her toy basket. 
Stuck trying to rip her clothes off. 
Stuck in her dolls stroller. 
Stuck backwards in her dolls stroller 
Stuck in the chair getting a haircut. 
Somehow stuck in this position against the wall. 
That pesky toy basket has a hold of her again. 
Stuck while climbing on the table she’s not suppose to be climbing on. 
And finally…legitimately stuck in her jumper. One leg in, one leg out. God, thank you for writing her into our world!