Things you shouldn’t say at a baseball game

Posted on May 17, 2012 by Penny Print This Post Print This Post

At batCheezy and I showed up at Hot Wheelz baseball game last Saturday.  While the pitcher found his groove and the outfielders found their mitts (lots of walks and dropped balls), Cheezy and I chatted.

“What’s the count?” Cheezy asked as he looked up from our conversation.

“I think he only has one ball,” I said.  It didn’t sound quite right. 

“Mom!”  The spectators in back of us began to snicker.

Just then I heard a thunk as the first baseman grabbed a fast bouncing ball.

“What was that?” I asked.

“The ball hit his cup,” Cheezy said.

“Oh,” I answered.  “It sounded hollow.”

“Mom!”  The crowd chuckled again.

The player at bat missed the ball.  “Airball,” I announced.

“Mom, that’s basketball!”

“So how many points are we ahead by?” I asked.

“Mom, it’s runs!”

I just love baseball.  Especially sitting between my two favorite guys.

P.S. Hot Wheelz, the team calls him Wheels because of his speed in left field, made one of those Web Gem plays.  He raced after the ball, stretched out his glove, rolled twice, popping his arm up, ball in the glove. 

“That’s good enough for ESPN,” I said proudly.

“Nah,” Hot Wheelz said.  “Maybe Sportscenter.”

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Ducks are cocky

Posted on May 16, 2012 by Penny Print This Post Print This Post

V-formation“Hey, Mom, let’s go to the gym,” Cheezy said while I visited in Utah this past weekend, “I’ll train you.”

As we turned the corner, two ducks stepped off the curb in front of the car.  “Ducks are just too cocky for their own good,” announced Cheezy.  “They act like they have the right of way.”

“Did you ever think maybe they’re not cocky?” I surmised.  “Maybe they’re just dumb.”

“What!  They can fly in a V!” exclaimed Cheezy.  “They’re not dumb.  They’re cocky.”

I was headed into the gym with my last born who was going to work me over out.  Was I dumb or cocky thinking I could take what he dished out?

Cheezy worked me out with a passion that Travis the Trainer vied for — a passion fueled by revenge.  Cheezy had me lunge holding a 25-pound weight steady at 90°, then twist to each side, return to center and then lunge with the other foot.  “This is for making me go to bed at eight at night.”  Okay, I didn’t hear him say that, but I saw the look in his eyes.

“I want to quit,” I said, after three sets of lunges across the gym.

“No,” he said.  “One more.” 

Afterwards, he pointed to a workout bench.  I crawled to it and laid on it.  No rest for me.  He placed a 15-pound dumbbell in each hand.  As I pulled my knees up to my chest, I lifted my arms straight up, while holding the weights.  He smiled at me.  “Good job, Mom,” escaped his lips, but I knew what he really wanted to say.  “You deserve this pain for not buying me the transformer I wanted when I was ten years old.” 

He had me step up doing a hammer curl to a military press clutching 10-pound weights standing on one leg, then stepping back down and then changing legs.  “Come on, Mom,” he said.  “You can do it.  You’re stronger than you think.”  But he was really whispering, “This one’s for restricting me.”  I’d show him!  I did two more than he asked for.  I knew this grudge was bogus.  After three older children, I was sure I’d never followed through on a restriction.  One night I’d asked him how come he was home when he could have been with friends, and he’d answered, “You restricted me.”

“What’d you do?” I’d asked.

Today returning home from my weekend in Utah, my boss asked, “Penny, what are you doing?  Everyone in the department is aging but you.”

I grinned, and stuck out my chest a little just like those cocky ducks.  V is for victory.

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Favorite quote of the night

Posted on May 15, 2012 by Penny Print This Post Print This Post

Last night I celebrated another Mother’s Day with my girls.  The grandkids love being with their Aunt Coco.  Her sense of humor is a little lot quirky.  (I have no idea where she gets it from.)

Hottie lines buttonThe Bug found my Hottie Lines button — Couponman’s attempt at romance — and pushed the button, “Are your feet tired because you’ve been running through my dreams all night long?”  He pushed the button once again.  “Is it hot in here?  Or did you just smile.”

“I love these,” the Bug announced.  He knew all the lines by heart.

He loves being the oldest grandchild, teasing the “big” kids on their level.  He thinks he knows more than he really does.  (Don’t we all?)  “Maybe you could give it to your boyfriend,” he said to Aunt Coco, handing her the button.   Then sounding much older than his young eight years, added with a smirk, “If you could get a boyfriend.”

“Oh, I could get a boyfriend,” Aunt Coco quipped back.  “ I could get five!”

“Five at once!?” he exclaimed in disbelief.  He was almost speechless.   “That… that… that…,” he stammered, fighting to find the right word in his limited vocabulary, ”that’s just unsanitary.”

“Best quote of the night,” laughed Coco.

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Mother’s Day goes to the dogs

Posted on May 14, 2012 by Penny Print This Post Print This Post
Two hot dawgs

And I don't mean these two good looking dawgs!

Surrounded by breathtaking mountains, under a blue sky with white fluffy clouds, with a few hours to spare on this perfect spring day before Tux watching fishmy flight home, Hot Wheelz and I gathered up Bruce and his friend, Jack, and headed off to the dog-friendly trail.

I think it was at Tux the cat’s suggestion.  She wanted some alone time, if you get her drift.

Now an empty-nester mom, it’s surprising how fast you fall back into old habits when young ones (Bruce is 7 and Jack is 5) are in your care. 

“Hey, guys,” I instructed, don’t get too close to the edge of the cliff.”Dog park

 

“Bruce, stay out of the mud.”

“Keep up with us, will you.”

“Get out of the water.  You’ve been in long enough.”

Dogs in the water“Don’t shake your wet fur when you’re standing right next to me.”

“Don’t go so far ahead of me that I can’t see you.”

“Don’t make me come find you.”

“Come on, let’s go.”

As the four of us headed back towards the car, I asked, “So did you guys have a good time on the hike?”

Just like olden days, no one said a word.

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Mother’s adventures

Posted on May 13, 2012 by Penny Print This Post Print This Post

You’ve heard the saying, “nothing ever turns out like you plan.” Nothing could be truer than the plans you make as a parent.

I hadn’t planed to raise four young children in a single parent home.  I hadn’t planned to cry as much, sometimes seemingly more, over disappointment as laugh over fun adventures.  In fact, most of the laughter comes years after the near-death adventures.

I hadn’t planned on the added expense of trophies, pictures, pizza parties, snack assignments, and road trips in the price of signing up for baseball or soccer.  I hadn’t planned on sewing costumes and the time to make sure my children had experiences to make them well-rounded.

I hadn’t planned to help write book reports, build California mission replicas out of sugar cubes, empty milk cartons, and macaroni.  I hadn’t planned on sitting through so many open houses, boring back-to-school nights, or amateur productions (in which my kids outshined everyone else).

I hadn’t planned on living in a house where chocolate chips disappeared, where shoes and homework were swallowed up, or where floors could get sticky when NO ONE spilled sugary soda or Kool-Aid.  I hadn’t planned having to calculate what the worst possible trouble my four could get into, and then finding out they had somehow managed to slide in below what I had imagined.

I hadn’t planned on coming up with so many recipes calling for one pound of ground round, a can of mushroom soup, and pasta.  Love those carbs.

I hadn’t planned on ever tiring of Mickey and Minnie, going down the log ride just one too many times at Knott’s Berry Farm, or getting splashed one time too many by Shamu the killer whale at Seaworld.  But one day it happened.

I hadn’t planned on losing so much sleep holding a sick baby, spending another night with an adventuresome and wounded toddler in the emergency room, crying when you feel your child has been neglected or left out by others, or worrying about the decisions they make as a teenager.  I hadn’t planned on being so tired the many nights I’d fall asleep in front of the television after getting my four down to bed.  I hadn’t planned on driving around at midnight to get that fussy baby to fall asleep with the rhythm of the road.

I hadn’t planned on the heartache I would feel when I saw my children fail or get their hearts broken.

I hadn’t planned on loving anyone or anything as much as I love my children (or my grandchildren).  I hadn’t planned on waking up one day and realizing they were grown, and that not only do I love them, but I like them.  I love their senses of humor, their courtesy and generosity to others, their “green” thinking to help the planet, and their hopes for a better future.

I hadn’t planned on not having a life for so long.  It just came with the territory when I made a decision to become a mom.

Happy Mother’s Day!

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Up, up and away

Posted on May 12, 2012 by Penny Print This Post Print This Post

Long hours, too short of days is my life lately.  The upside is that the family vacation to Costa Rica is paid for.  But even with the next goal – a resistance spa – in mind, the seven-day-a-week, twelve hour days are getting old.

So to keep my spirits up, I’ve been listening to Couponman’s deal – a free trial subscription to Sirius Radio.  And not the music – to the comedy channels.  Memories shared by one funny fellow about dressing up as Gooseman, as he called himself – a kitchen towel pinned to his back (obviously with the proverbial fowl) with two giant safety pins on his shoulders by his mom, made me laugh out loud.  I remembered my own capes improvised from tattered bathroom towels. 

Another early-morning comedian shared the tales his dad had shared with him about the fabulous 1939 Packard he had owned as a young man.  “What will I be able to tell my son about my  not-so-fabulous Ford Fiesta?” he had asked.  After the laughter, I saw in my mind’s eye our sparkling 1953 Pontiac that we’d traveled across the county by train all the way to Michigan to claim – costing only a fraction of what the airfare to Costa Rica now costs.

I knew the stories of our beloved Vanagon would be passed down to the next generation.  On our first initial outing, I wasn’t yet used to the shocks, or lack of shocks.  Going over a dip sans seat belts (they were not yet the law) had made Hot Wheelz airborne.  I’d watched him take wings and hit his head on the vertical box car.  “Do it again, Mom,” he exclaimed excitedly.  He told me later he’d take out unsuspecting friends and jump curbs to make them fly while watching in the rearview mirror.  There were the overnight campouts in the driveway, bed and breakfast trips (breakfast included in the small portable refrigerator I’d purchased), and large cargo items like beach equipment, balloon bouquet deliveries, and birthday parties (both kids and favors).  Most of my kids learned to drive in this vehicle.  All except Cheezy, who just couldn’t get the stick shift thing down.

I miss a full car.  So in all this nostalgia, I booked a weekend flight to Utah for Mother’s Day to see my two favorite guys.

Off the plane

Utah in May

What’s your favorite memory of an automobile?

Added note:  I’d forgotten how fun seeing daylight is!

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The sounds of yoga

Posted on May 11, 2012 by Penny Print This Post Print This Post

I’ve come to recognize a few sounds in yoga — not the graceful whoosing from one powerful move to another or the relaxing chants.  More like the ceremonial cracking of my knees or the faint sound of my grateful body collapsing in child’s pose to my purple mat after a strenuous Second Warrior.

I find as our small group performs an arduous pose, faint ughs, maybe a few more than faint grunts, for our efforts can be heard.  Then almost immediately while accomplishing what we set out to do (or as close as we are going to get), a sound of ahhhh fills the room.  Almost like thinking about what we’ve just done and admiring it.

We stand on one leg in tree pose.  For a moment only (a quick moment), the only sound is the chanting on the iPod.  Ann and Michael are rock solid.  I’m just solid — could be the carrot cake.  “Penny, you’re doing so much better,” said Dawn, our instructor.  Travis, my trainer at the gym, told me to stare at something that wasn’t going to move.  I’d picked the heavy set guy sitting at the arm pulley machine.  As far as I could see, he hadn’t made any sudden moves in quite some time.  But during yoga class, there was no one in front of me to stare at as my focal point.  Only the phone.  “Okay, raise your leg locked into your thing, out in front of you,” Dawn instructed, “and turn your head in the opposite direction.”  That’s when the silence ended.  My arms flapped in the breeze like a giant wind coming through the trees.

I’m hoping the flapping hid the other little sound escaping my body as I raised my leg.  Do you think?

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Amnesia meets deja vu

Posted on May 10, 2012 by Penny Print This Post Print This Post

I forgot — again.  As you age you need to develop tricks for remembering.  My mom used to tie a piece of string around her ring finger just above her wedding ring.  She’d look at the string and just know what she was supposed to remember.  Years later she’d look at the string and remember that she’d forgotten something — she had no idea what it was.

I store the number of things I want to remember to do in my brain.  I hold up “x” amount of fingers and lock it in.  I’d go to bed thinking the number three, I awake in the morning and can rattle off the three things I needed to do.   One for each finger as I hold it up.  Now I think of the number two, and make a visit to the bathroom.

It appears I have unselective amnesia.  I can remember my first husband’s social security number, but can’t remember to shut the garage door after I pull the car in.

It’s happening more and more.  Like deja vu all over again.

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The big red caboose

Posted on May 7, 2012 by Penny Print This Post Print This Post

I could be writing about coming in last, but I’m not.  I could be writing about my rear end, but I am not.  Surprise…  I’m writing about a big red caboose.  Saturday was Train Days in Fullerton.  We sat in a little red caboose to take a free train ride in the parking lot

Train rideRetired Disney train cars, miles of model train track under big tents, one model train 62 cars in length (the Bug counted them), even a circus and a whole train village with moving locomotives made out of Legos were on display.  My grandkids were loving it.  They pressed controls to make cows move off the track, make the engines puff from their smoke stacks, and ran from train to train.

Outside train set   Train pulley

It couldn’t be more than fifty years (could it really be that long or longer?) since I’d visited my uncle who had added a room onto the back of his house for his Lionel train sets.  He’d let me push the controls of his fifteen or so locomotives.  I loved the automation, even back then — the dairy delivery, the logging factory, and the gasoline drum loader.  Little houses lit up; locomotives huffed and puffed.  Cousins (there were 25 of us) gathered to watch the trains move past one another in a delicately balanced display.  Maybe the cousins were the best part.

What great memories…  And what a run time sharing them with my grandkids.

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A flood of memories

Posted on May 5, 2012 by Penny Print This Post Print This Post

Daddy Daughter Dance“The Worm is going on a date with her dad tonight,” said the GAP.  “They’re going to a Daddy-Daughter dance.  I even painted her fingernails.”  (Not “hooker red,” I hoped.)

A flood of memories took over.  My dates with my dad were not so prim and proper.  I don’t ever remember polishing my fingernails to go someplace with my dad.  He’d take me to the neighborhood park and buy me a cherry snowcone.  He’d take me to the midget car races.  The fun part was afterwards when he’d take me to the flea market across the way and I’d get to pick out a porcelain statue for my collection.  My favorites were the white poodle twins.  There was the time he took me to the local fair.  I’d wanted a blue stuffed poodle (what can I say? I was in to poodles), and he’d tried one of those chance games to win one for me.  He tried over and over, and at 25¢ a pop, it was getting too rich for our family’s pocketbook.  The carnie guy ended up giving it to him after $25 worth of quarters.

Dad and me on a tobbagonOr the times he’d take me to Big Bear in the mountains and we’d ride town the toboggan together in the snow.  I liked to go fast then, too.  He made me feel safe.  He drove cars fast, too.  As long as you kept your eyes closed, you felt safe then, too. 

He taught me, oh, so many things.  Like to love ice cream, and to love long and hard, especially when it comes to your children.  And mostly to laugh.

I hope the Worm has memories of her dad, Mr. Greenjeans, just like I have of my dad.

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