You Can't Get Married Without My Children

I'm in a grumpy mood tonight? Why?

I just came back from a beautiful wedding. It was an outdoor venue set in a beautiful garden.

The service was lovely. The bride was exquisite. The food was scrumptious.

So, what's the problem?

Well, all of the invitations contained the specific request by the bride and groom that no children would attend. Hubby and I made the effort to find child care for our kids and went to the wedding.

When we got there, we were more than a little shocked to find that apparently we were the only ones who respected the couple's wishes. They had all brought their children- of all ages- anyway.

How rude!

I guess they decided that if, as a guest, they had decided to honor the bride and groom with their presence, and bring a gift for them, that they had the right to ignore their specific instructions.

I am completely over people and their sense of entitlement! (That belief that the world must revolve around them, and that whatever they deem to be acceptable to float around in their universe was okay. All else must shuttle off to some other dimension.)

It's not just at weddings, either. It's the man who cuts people off in traffic because he feels like his business is more important than anyone else's, so he has every right to cut in front of everyone else. Or the woman who believes her home, food, car, schooling, health insurance and everything else should be paid for by the government- indefinitely- just because she had a baby.

They go hand-in-hand with the people who believe that nothing could ever be their fault. "I killed my friend because my dad beat me." Oh, well, okay. That makes total sense, and I think you should totally be excused. NOT!

Some years ago, a woman spilled hot coffee in her lap and sued McDonald's. It created a landslide of stupid people who continue to blame the world for their stupidity. And now it's filtered down to the fact that nothing is anyone's fault anymore, and everyone is entitled to whatever they desire just because they breathe air.

When I got home after the wedding I gave my kids a couple of hugs each. I told them how much I appreciated them allowing mommy and daddy to go to the wedding and how sorry I was they didn't get to go.

They shrugged it off and said it was no big deal. They were actually happy they didn't have to go.

You know what? I bet all the kids at that wedding probably felt that same way. But their moms and dads taught them that the world owed them this wedding because they were cute, or funny, or just because they were the son or daughter of their parents.

Maybe the bride and groom should have invited the kids and asked the parents to stay at home.

Everything else aside, I wish blessings and happiness to the bride and groom. I offer my apologies on behalf of all your rude guests who decided they were more important than you today. I pray you will be blessed with friends and family who will learn to put aside themselves for you. And that you will continue to teach your children the value of respect and accountability.

Blessings,
MommyBarbie

With a Bow on Top

We are officially in the thick of what I call, "Gift Season." It starts at about Mother's Day and doesn't stop until school starts back. We are buying gifts for moms, then grads, then weddings and babies. And none of these gifts are cheap.

Actually, though, with having kids, our "Gift Season" is pretty much year-round. We have birthday parties upon birthday parties. And each one of them require a gift. We should buy stock in Justice. And Target. And, now, with the older kids, I-Tunes.

Every once in a while we have someone who insists they don't want gifts. Instead, they want donations for a charity. I think this is so wonderful and commendable.

My own Emma has done this, asking for money to go to the Ronald McDonald's House, for families of children who are having serious medical problems, and have been displaced for medical treatment. I was particularly happy to not have all the extra toys and do-dad's. But I also could not have been more proud.

In the "Official Parenting Brochure," they should mention the gift thing in the "Expenses" portion. Figure $20 - $25 per gift. Then figure at least one birthday party every other week. Multiply that by the number of children you have. Then figure in some weddings, Mother's Day, Father's Day, baby showers and other miscellaneous gifts.

Oh, and don't forget that your children will need Christmas and Birthday gifts. And those aren't $20 - $25 a piece. And, generally speaking, they do not appreciate donations being made in their honor in lieu of gifts.

I hope you are all having a good "Gift Season." My your obligation and generosity not exceed your wallet.

The Green, Green Grass at Home

I went to a friend's house today and fell in lust with her beautiful, open floor plan. I was ready to go home and stick a sale sign in my yard and sell the whole house- contents and all- and buy hers.

Not only was the floor plan fantabulous, it was about 1,000 square feet larger than ours. I had visions of the children being able to spread out, and Keith having a room bigger than a coat closet. She has four bathrooms. I don't even know how to tell you how excited I would be to have that many bathrooms available at any given time. Granted, we have three. But four? That's beyond awesome!

Her kitchen had an island in the middle. The stove top was flat so no little crumbs or pasta or sauce of some kind go under the burners where they turn into stinky, charred ash. And they had a three car garage- a three car garage!!!! We could actually park our cars in our own garage AND have storage room, instead of having to choose one over the other.

I got misty-eyed thinking of it all. Especially when I considered her hard wood floors and the new carpet in the front family room (not to be confused with the family room off the kitchen or the den upstairs). I was in love.

Then, my Achilles' Heel reared his ugly head... cleaning.

I am not a cleaner by nature. It's not that I don't like things to be clean. As a matter of fact, I enjoy organizing and putting things into a neat, clean, orderly fashion. 

My beef is with the fact that cleaning is a routine- an endless, mind-numbing, time-sucking, repetitive, thankless routine. No sooner is the laundry done, folded and put away than there's another load waiting to be washed. When opening the dishwasher reveals a cavernous, empty square, dirty dishes are sure to be piled in the sink awaiting their transfer. It never, ever ends.

As I looked at my friend's home with fresh eyes, I winced. All of those bathrooms would have to be scrubbed. That extra toilet, bathtub, floor and sink would require extra elbow grease. The island would be sure to be turned into a storage facility for everything that didn't already have a home- and even some stuff that did have a home, but that people were just too lazy to find.

Three family rooms? Really? Isn't that really just two extra places to have to vacuum, dust and pick up. And a three car garage... Meh... Just another place to store hubby's over-priced, professional-grade sports equipment he never uses. 

By the time I was done looking around, I was ready to put up a sign in my front yard all right. But I wanted to down-size just so I wouldn't have to clean as much!

Honestly, we could get by with one and a half bathrooms, don't you think? And really, can't the girls share a room? Keith is lucky. He only has enough room to keep the stuff he really needs. So he doesn't get bogged down by a bunch of unnecessary clutter.

After I had a chance to drive home (and start yet another load of laundry), I had come back to center: that place where I am incredibly grateful for exactly what I have. 

There will always be greener grass in the pasture on the other side of the fence. Fortunately, life has taught me that many times that beautiful, lush, green, carpet-like grass I'm eyeing is concealing a nasty smelling septic tank.

So I will keep my beautiful home in which I currently reside. We have lovely memories here. And its size, floor plan and location fit our life. Besides that, I have already priced out maids for this location. And someday, I'll be able to afford to pay one to come clean for me!

Gone to the Dogs

My dog's groomer charges $38 to get her looking (and smelling) beautiful. I just bought some professional-grade trimmers to help Keith keep his hair buzzed for football, and I thought, "What the heck? I could save some money in this area of my life, too."

So, I (foolishly) fired up the trimmers and tried valiantly to groom Dixie (my 6 lb maltese/shih tzu mix).

An hour and a half later, I decided my groomer was not asking nearly enough. I was covered from head to toe with her soft, fine hair, itching like a camel with chiggers. I didn't even get to giving the little beastie a bath. Nor had I come anywhere close to doing whatever they say they do to the doggies' "glands". (Don't ask.)

However, I did get my "Jane Fonda" work out. My timid little puppy became a wriggling, yipping, fur-flying, mess of a greased pig, while I tried to calm her by saying, "Good puppy," over and over again in a soothing voice.

Oh, yeah, my groomer needs to charge a million dollars a dog.

The kids kept telling me I was being mean to Dixie, and that she was mad at me. They tried to rescue her. But once I was half way through the cut, I couldn't very well let her be six inches in the front and three inches in the back. Besides, I wasn't hurting her. She was just being difficult and grouchy. I know I wasn't hurting her because I kept accidentally running the trimmers over my fingers/hands/arms/legs, and it didn't hurt; it just made a lot of noise.

I think (as my professional position as family Dog Whisperer) she was embarrassed that I was exposing her tummy, and she is ticklish on her underarms. And I think she didn't like having to sit still while I kept running the trimmers over and over the same place, going different directions so that all the fur was the same length.

Either way, she's as groomed as she's going to get by me. She may get a bath tomorrow. I'm not touching her "glands."

Maybe next time it will be easier... Or maybe I'll just fork out the $38 and call it a day...

When You Grow Up

If a person could grow by pure will, Keith would be six feet tall. You've never seen a person focus with such precision and intensity on something they have absolutely no control over.

It's funny how we equate certain things with happiness and/or success. With Keith, it's his physical height. With someone else, it may be whether or not they have a certain professional position or a certain status in a group. With many people it's about money.

There are some things over which we do have control. How we behave at work or in a group can determine our success. How we perform can effect how much money we earn.

But there are some things we can't control at all. For example, someone who wants to be an international singer, has to have some natural talent. We have no control over what kind of talent we're born with. We can try to hone our skill. But ultimately, we can only work with what we've been given.

If I could, I would stretch Keith out to make him tall, and then some. But unfortunately, all I can do is try to help him accept who he is, and love who he can become.

I guess that's the way it is with all of us. We all have our limitations. I'll never be Mrs. America, with the figure of a barbie doll. I'll never be Stephenie Meyer, with her mega multi-media hit series, "Twilight." I'll never lead bible studies for millions and millions of people, like Beth Moore.

But I am the mom of children whose very breath makes my heart beat with love. And I am the wife of my best friend. And I get to write in various forums, such as this blog. And I get to share my theological beliefs with some great kids in our church's confirmation class.

Keith may never be six feet in height. But he will always be huge in character. And he is and will continue to be a great role model to younger kids. I hope and pray he will see that, too- no matter how tall he ever stands.