Friday, September 30, 2011
My husband thinks I'm staging a rebellion.
A coup of sorts.
One that will resort to a state of Anarchism. Total lack of governing bodies. The governing bodies that govern Halloween, Halloween Decor and Halloween Fright.
Real important stuff.
All because I got this FABULOUS idea, to construct this GREAT GIGANTIC THING.
But now this great big enormous Halloween thing, is lonely. And I think it's only right that I make more GREAT BIG HUMONGOUS THINGS to go with it. And this. . . .is the problem. The things that should go with it, he feels do not belong in a Halloween display.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Remember when I started painting my little girls' bathroom? I was all gung ho, excited and happy-like.
That was 2 months ago, and I haven't been able to show you the finished product because somebody named THE MAN WHO WAS SUPPOSED TO MAKE ALL MY DREAMS COME TRUE has been a little lax in hanging up the photograph and installing the door knobs and cabinet pulls.
If your listening Mr. Woo (and I know you are) I love you, I truly do, BUT ENOUGH WITH THE EXCUSES. "I had to go to work. I had to watch the kids. I had to mow the lawn." Whatevs.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Update On My Dad's Heart Transplant Recovery:
Well folks, all your kind words, positive energy and loving prayers seem to be working WELL. My Pops is well on his way to recovery. He's still sick, and in ICU but now he is very alert, moving around a bit, with a brand spanking new 20 YEAR OLD heart. No more fevers, dialysis, breathing tubes, and other crazy horrible wonderful contraptions. The doctors are very optimistic, and and encouraged by his continued progress everyday. Today's prescribed medicine is for him to review pictures on his IPad to help stimulate his brain. So, submitted for his review are some random pictures of his grandkids over the past year for him to enjoy while he's laying around getting better.
Hurry Up and Get Better Papa! We love you and these knuckleheads over here say you promised to take them to Disneyland. And they don't forget a promise.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
What I said:
It has come to our attention that our daughter Soledad Woodard, a kindergartner at XXXXXX
Elementary, is being bullied by a boy named XXXXX(second grader) on the bus ride home.
On numerous occasions, since the beginning of school, he has ostracized
for her hairstyles, calling her names like the “weird girl” and strange. He uses this language as he taunts her in her face, as well as laughing and encouraging others around him to join in. Soledad
Friday, September 16, 2011
I don't know how she does it.
No, seriously. I really don't know how she does it.
I just spent the last 5 minutes sprinting down my street with my hair in a scraggly ponytail (from last night) my husbands too big basketball shorts on, and a holey t-shirt, trying to catch a school bus because my kids left their snacks and the PTA sign up form for the Spaghetti Dinner THAT WAS DUE TODAY on the kitchen counter.
The bus came. The bus went.
Approximately 2 minutes before I ever got there. So there I stood, out of shape, out of breath, on the corner of my busy neighborhood street, with an Oatmeal Raisin Chewy Granola Bar, A Spaghetti Dinner Form, and a $20 check, and approximately 5 onlookers wondering why I was hunched over, breathing strangely, and holding my side.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
I know it's been awhile. But, ummm, I'm sure you forgive me. I'm back in Houston with my children and my husband, and my dad is still sick, but getting better everyday. No more dialysis. No more fever. The heart is ticking away all on its own. The respirator, gone, gone, gone. He's still in ICU and heavily sedated, but yesterday he squeezed his hand, opened his eyes, and moved his neck. . . .all great news.
But. . ..and there is a but. . . .throughout all the craziness. . . .not sleeping. . .flying out to see my father. . .late nights, early mornings, doctors. . .nurses. . . .blah, blah, blah. . . .I've uhhhhh. . .come face to face with some of my deepest fears.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
I walked into the night, opened the car door, sat down and shut the door. I didn't want to go. I didn't want to stay. I had a headache and my eyes were red and heavy from too much crying. I just needed to breathe for a minute. The air in my house had become stale, and the lights too bright.
But I went. What was I going to do at home? Think more about him? Worry about him? Cry for him?
I felt like I'd been crying for years. Ever since he left my mother. He was the perfect father for over 20 years, and then something happened and I felt like he drop kicked me right out of my fairytale land. No. He's not perfect anymore. But I cry just the same. I need him just the same. Maybe, I love him even more.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
As I type this, my dad lays on the operating table in Miami.
Surgery just finished.
Today he received a brand new heart. It was beating fast and furious. Strong, regular beats. But now there are a few problems, and the surgeon hasn't closed him up yet, but I know it's just a matter of time, before they wheel him into the ICU, and we watch as he recovers, grows strong, and begins again.