Spending time in the kitchens

"How was your day dear?" my wife asks me as I walk in the door.

"Great!" I say in a sarcastic tone, "how was yours?"

In the background you can hear the familiar tune of "A, B, C, D...." as our son stands in front of out fridge repeatedly pressing a button that plays the song over and over... yet he never lets it get to any farther than D.

"Oh, it was good..." she continues, talking as she rumages through our pantry, most likely looking for something to cook us dinner for that evening. "Just a few more days until summer starts..."

I am also excited about the idea of summer because this summer will be my first I can actually enjoy without the lingering and painful thought of having to register for another semester of school. I am graduating this May and am so very excited about the accomplishment. Now, I say this in hopes that I pass my three remaining classes and that the party my wife has been planning for a month will not go all to waste.

"Oh, I'm ready for some warm weather..." I say. "We really need a vacation."

A vacation is not in our near future, however, due to the bundle of joy that the stork is dropping off at our door step come the end of June. I see him on the radar getting closer every day whenever I wake up and see that my wife, Laura's, belly is expanding at an alarming rate.

"My back is killing me," says Laura. "I feel like Elle just can't get comfortable for some reason."

We have decided to call our little girl "Elle." You may be a bit confused, but it is pretty simple, it isn't pronounced, "Ellie" it is just like the magazine or letter! Her full name is Estelle Lillian, but we are going to call her "Elle" for short. Sweet, simple, classy... well, atleast we think so.

"Dadadadadada," my son says as he come toddling to me at a quickening pace.

"Boom!" Laura and I say in unison. He gets to going so fast he can't seem to stop so he inevitably falls face down. Then we wait, we wait for the cry or the laugh. Thankfully this time he became distracted by a toy he saw on the floor near by and headed that way over to "his" kitchen area that his Aunt and Grandmother purchased for him at a garage sale. It is a pretty impressive set up he has, however, I will say the lack of food in his kitchen makes it seem like he is in a baby recession. Maybe they sell the food and baby food stamps too!

"Oh that's the correct place for this," Laura says as she opens the little, silver fridge door.

"What is it?" I asked.

"His phone, he put his phone and a blue block in his fridge," Laura said.

"Well, maybe that's where he knew he'd find it!" I said. "If I remember correctly you seem to misplace things a lot nowadays!"

"It's because I'm pregnant," she continued. "I can't help it!"

She reached down to pick up our little boy who was quickly pulling everything out of the cabinets where we keep "his" bowls. The bowls were actually a wedding gift from, well, I actually don't remember, but we still use them to cook with, but due to the multicoloredness they seem to make for fun play items for a 13 month old.

"Da!" Mauldin retorted. His right arm quickly rose and he pointed in the direction of the stairs, no where near where "daddy" was standing.

"Mauldin," I said. "Gimme five."

He quickly patted my right hand and proceeded to clap as if he knew he had done something correct.

"Yay!" We all clapped to show we approved of his accomplishment.

"Okay, Mauldin, are you ready for bath time?" I asked as if I was expecting a competent "why yes father, I would appreciate you taking me upstairs so I can bathe this evening... and afterwards I would prefer a massage while you sing "Itsy Bitsy Spider" and we can end the evening with a rendition of my favorite story, Pat them gently.

Instead all I got was "Da!"

One day at a time.

Trust in a modern world

I have always worried, worried that I would not be able to teach my child important things. You may say “what kind of things?” Well, I am not talking about stuff like riding a bike, casting a fishing line or even running a mile. What I am talking about are life lessons… like “being a honest person,“ “being courteous,” or “going with your gut!” I have always wondered how does one actually teach this trait? It isn’t really learned in school, or the home, but more of a life lesson one learns as they grow up.

You see random acts of kindness here and there, but you go on about your day and never really think about them. For instance, my wife, Laura, and I were out at Old Navy, we had purchased over the amount we had intended to do. We were in line ready to check out and a lady, we will call her the “Coupon fairy” and she handed us a coupon that ended up taking 30% off every thing we bought! It was amazing… but we went on and never really told anyone about it.

I was thinking about it and wondered.. does my little boy truly trust anyone besides his mommy and daddy yet? I mean there are different levels of trust, of course, but what is going through his mind when he is playing at daycare with his BFF Ben?

The idea of trust can get you in trouble sometimes… but there are instances when you have a feeling about someone that allows you to step out of your controlled comfort zone and let someone else do something for you.

I walk into a large brick building in the middle of the KSU campus, I push through the large doors, walk in and stretch my neck around the corner, to the right. I do this every Monday/Wednesday right before my Econ class. I have a huge gap of time between classes so I want to make sure I get my spot at the same table because this is where I hook my computer up. The building doesn’t seem to have ample plug-ins so everyone with a laptop computer or dying cell phone have them monopolized.

As fate would have it someone is sitting at my table on this very day, this very moment and my dreams of getting a blog written are dashed to the wind… At first, I see my nemesis at the, no my table. She is a young, Hispanic chick wearing bejeweled sandals and her toes are painted pale pink. Do I engage in conversation in hopes she will invite me to the table? Do I ask her for the time so she will look over and maybe offer the empty spot across from her so I can boot up my low battery? What am I to do, how am I to proceed? What if this girl is a total bitch and/or thinks I am hitting on her? I must choose my words carefully and stealthfully… my computer’s life depends on this stranger with pink toe nails.

“Hi,” I say “excuse me.”

She looks over, her pony tail swings to the left. “Yes?” she smiles.

“Do you mind if I plug my computer in at your table?” I ask.

Her table? It’s MY table… but I must be kind or I could be sitting at a squatty, little table with no way to connect to the World Wide Web.

“Sure!”

“Great,” I reply. “Thanks so much! I really need to study.”

The false statement just fell out of my mouth. I was intending to study, I wanted to write my blog! I’m such a blog whore.

The trust had been initiated, but my next step whet far beyond my expectation. I was not expecting to strike up a convo with this person... I don’t even want to know her name, but right now, at this very moment I need her. I need her to watch my computer so I can take about 20 paces in the opposite direction to grab a quick snack from the “Einstein Bros Bagel” Shoppe. I don’t like bagels per say I like their overgrown muffins… I should lay off of them because I am starting to get a muffin-top of my own.

“Hi,” I say after a short stint at the table. “How long do you expect to be here?”

As soon as I said this statement I wanted to retract it due to the response it may get. She probably thinks I am being an ass… she lent out her extra seat to a sad, college guy with no battery power and he already wants the whole outlet to himself. What a prick!

“Oh, probably 30 more minutes or so.” She replied with a hint of Spanish-heritage, like the Latin lady from Modern Family. (I love that show!)

“Great!” I continued. “Would you mind watching my computer while I run around the corner to the Bagel Shoppe?”

“No problem,” she responded. “Sure!”

Now remember, I don’t even know this girl’s name? All I know is she has conficasted my favorite waiting table and she may be hurtin’ for money and I will come back and all my stuff will be gone, including my computer which has the hard files with all my research for my Communication Capstone paper... then I don't graduate in May.. NO!

“What was I thinking,” I thought to myself as I stood in line at the Bagel shop.

“What would you like, Sir?”

I stood there thinking to myself, already having my phone in my hand ready to call campus police on the pink toed bandit who was waiting for me to gain my trust and take off with my HP Laptop complete with intel Centrino Duo chip!

“Sir?” the lady behind the counter repeated.

“Oh, a chocolate muffin please.” I said. “Oh and two waters.”

I went ahead and got another water for pink toed, Hispanic chick for watching my things at MY table.

“That will be $5.05”

I hand her my debit card and head back, quickly to the table hoping and praying she was still there and all my things would be there was well.

I felt like a total ass for doubting the kindness of a stranger.

I sat in my seat and reached over with the extra water.

“Thank you for watching my stuff” I said.

“Oh wow!” she replied. “Thank you!”

So, lesson learned, no matter how much life sucks and you feel like you can’t trust people… there are some people out there… some people who are nice, trustworthy people. So, whenever my little boy gets screwed over by a little friend at school I will be sure to tell him the story of the Hispanic chick with the pink toes.

Time! There's never any time!

Sometimes I feel like "Jessie Spano" from Saved By the Bell...

Although, there are many similiarities I am lacking, but the things that stand out the most are how often I say...

"Time, there's never any time!"

Although, I never applied to Stanford... the amount of Starbucks I consume would probably be the amount of pills she was taking... I guess I am addicted to caffine.

I am constantly finding myself having to think three steps ahead because of work, school and family. It is really hard juggling everything and finding time to fit everything in...

Even finding a day to schedule getting my hair cut, having the oil changed in my car or running to pick up the dry cleaning has to be minutly scheduled due to everything going on...

I, thankfully, and hopefully, will be able to mark one off of that list come this May. I will be officially graduating from Kennesaw State University with a Bachelor's degree in Communication. It feels like the day will never get here and tonight my wife decided to be the voice of reason for me when I almost skipped my Economics class...

I sit in my chair in my Statistics class and my professer tells us all he will see us on Wednesday... I reach down to pack up by red, Northface book bag. I put my calculator in the front, zipper pocket and proceed to stuff all the notes I so dilligently took during the class. I then reach over to my gray, Blackberry smartphone and proceed to text my wife, Laura...

"I will see you shortly!"

I almost immediatley recieve a message in return - BUUZZZZZ (my phone is almost always on vibrate.)

"Why?"

I start to wonder, why am I leaving class early? But, then I know it isn't just because my day had been hellishly long, or I was tired or even that I needed to go to the bathroom... I was looking for any really good excuse to leave campus... was I feeling sick, no. Oh! I wanna see my family. I want to tuck my little munchkin into bed and rock him to sleep before he gets to big for us to do that.

I text back, "B/c I said."

"Was class cancelled?" she replied.

I thought, should I lie? Do I tell the truth? The angel and devil were sitting on each side of my Black, Calvin Klein sweater... the devil kept turning my cap backwards and the angel was tryin to fix it back... I thought...I am an honest person and don't want to lie..

"No," I typed

":/"

I went ahead and called her and she played the "voice of reason" or "the bad guy" as she would call it. I wasn't mad at her... I was disappointed. Disappointed because I want to be finished with school... I want to be home.. I am tired of the whole college scene. I am too old for this.

I mean I wake up at 6am... am out of the house by 7am with Mauldin in tow and to work by 8am. My days feel so long during the week, but the weekends just seem to fly by as if they never even happened at all.

The amount of time I am alotted with my family is such a sad amount. I cannot believe how we all do what we do day after day. If you think about it... we all work so hard during our younger years dating... trying to find someone suitable to marry... then you either both work of just one of you, but no matter what you are still apart. The hours just do not justify... however, if we didn't work we wouldn't be able to have a roof over our heads, food, etc... the essentials to survive are no longer good enough. We all must have cars, enough money to buy nice clothes, etc... The vicous cycle goes on and on and all the while you are working to survive you work even harder to maintain the relationships you worked so very hard to find in the first place. A lot of people use their weekends for "girl's nights out" or "guy's weekends" away from their wives... Why? I barely get anytime with my wife and son as it is! I added it up and right now my wife and I actually get to spend, during the five-day work week, a total sum of 22 hours, waking hours to be with each other... even less I get to spend with my child! It's insane.

Now what is my whole point in this seemingly bitter diatribe? None, none at all... but isn't that what blogs are for? Thoughts on a screen...

Well, the only solace I gain from this is I am about to go to my Econ class and learn about the economy system in India. Really? May 5th hurry... please!

Just say mommy!

Just say mommy…

Yesterday morning, upon waking up around 7:00 am (post DST), I strolled into my son’s dimly lit bedroom and saw him standing in his crib, his hair disheveled from burying his head in his bumper.

“Good mornin’ little man, did you sleep well?” I asked, as if I were expecting to receive an honest answer… I pause as I look at my little boy.

“Dada?” he says as he points at the pictures of us on his photo-memory board.

“Yes, there’s da-da…” I say. “And, there’s momma, and there’s Mauldin!”

He smiles a gummy-grin with a hint of two tiny teeth poking out of his bottom gum. "You wanna go see mommy?"

He points out the door, “Da!”

I look down and step over numerous books and colored blocks littering his bedroom floor… with Mauldin wrapped snuggly around my neck I head out the door.

As I round the corner to our room I see a light has been turned on and I hear water running…
I hear a voice and two large white doors open outward… it’s my wife!

“Good morning!” says Laura. She is wrapped in only a towel obviously ready for her morning shower.

“Did my little boy have a good night sleep?”

“Dadadadada,” replies Mauldin.

“Yes, he seems to be in good spirits despite..” I say, I reach over and grab a tissue from the box of Kleenex on our dresser.

“Here,” I say as I reach out to Laura.

“Despite his runny nose?” Laura said finishing my sentence.

“Yes, mommy, we have a runny nose.” I followed as I watched her wipe the nasty concoction of goo from our child’s nostrils.

Mauldin expressed his dislike by his face turning red and his sad pout.

We always try to occupy Mauldin with the art of distraction whenever he is upset…
“Mauldin, say mama!”

He looked at me with his sad eyes, filled with tears… one slowly moved down his cheek and he quickly responded with a coy little smile…

“Dad-de!”

One day at a time...

Ironing out the wrinkles

It is no secret that the economy has hit everyone hard in certain ways… Almost every family I know has cut back in one way or another.

We have done our share to save, for example, my wife fights her way through couponmom.com and the Sunday paper, on the weekends, to locate the different brands we buy. Luckily for us, this is the last month, for a while we will need to purchase any formula! I find it so impressive when we go to the grocery store and after all is said and done we have saved close to if not more than $50 off what our regular bill would have been.
Pinchin’ our pennies led us to forgo the fun movie channels on our Dish Network Satellite. We have since enrolled in Netflix and in doing so saved us about $60 per month.

We have resorted to ironing our dress clothes for work. I have numerous meetings I have to go to each week and so I need to have pressed and starched dress shirts readily available. We really like the cleaners we use. I drive up and they know me by name without even saying a word.
They are an asian couple, as most dry cleaners are and the wife has to be the nicest lady I’ve ever known.

“Oh hello, E-dic, how’s de baby?”

But, I certainly don’t get that type of reception when I drive up and the husband is there. I show up and he immediately goes to the cash register and heads back to get my clothes. He heads out, opens my car door (this is a drive-thru cleaners, by the way) puts the clothes in the back seat and hands me a receipt and tells me the amount I owe all without any type of salutation or greeting. I hand him my credit card, sign and am on my way. I can give “credit” he is pretty efficient without the banter of talking to customers. Maybe that’s just how his egg rolls!

Okay, I cannot take recognition doing our ironing, I have probably pressed three shirts in the two years my wife and I have been married, but I guess to her it is something she wants to do for her man. I wouldn’t want her out mowing the lawn. Don’t get me wrong, we are in no way making each other do certain duties, but this is how our marriage works!

I sit here typing this blog as my wife, so lovingly, sways back and forth in her long, gray pajama pants and blue school polo, hair twisted up in a sexy mess with her white pearl earrings still in her ears that she obviously has forgotten to take out from the work day. She painstakingly slides back and forth with her silver Shark iron in her right hand and a can of Niagara starch in her left. It seems just like yesterday that we received our iron as a gift from our wedding registry, we had no idea how much use it would of gotten.

“I like this shirt honey,” said my wife while holding a blue and white checked J.Crew shirt. “You should wear it more, it looks great on you!”

“Thanks babe,” I said. “You wouldn’t believe how old it is..”

“Well, I like it.” She replied turning and rubbin' her pregnant belly. “The bigger I get the more you should watch for this to end up on my side… Oh – Shhhed$#@!!!”

I turn and see the ironing board rocking back and forth in a swaying motion that of course set our very state-of-the-art iron Shark diving to the floor in a downward dive. Please understand we have hardwood in our bedroom and the end result to something like an iron falling on it cannot be a good one.

“Oh, are you okay?” I say while I look at Laura.

“Yes.” She replied, her face now a bit pink from the panic moment that just occurred.

I know I was hoping she was okay, but a large part of me was worried about our floor. Don’t get me wrong, I was so glad to know my wife hadn’t burnt herself, but I was almost equally curious if she had burnt the floor. The floor in our dining room has already been ruined from our dogs taking the opportunity to skip the outside pee route.

“How is it?” I carefully asked.

Laura is already sensitive from being pregnant, so I wanted to tread lightly and not make her feel any worse than she already felt. Besides, she was ironing MY shirts…

“It just left a little mark,” she said while bending down to feel the mark the Shark had gashed in our hardwood.

“Wait, what is that?” I asked.

“What?” she replied, “Oh…”

She bend down again, but this time her head went under the ironing board itself with the iron resting gingerly waiting to make another nose dive into our floor, but this time it would of gone right on Laura’s neck.

"It's just a white piece of.."

“Laura.” I said quietly and softly with my eye on hers.

“Yes?” she said while standing up and missing the board by the width of an American Express card.

“All I need for you to do is bump that, burn yourself, and we are off to the ER!”

She looked at me smiling that smile she usually gives me when she knows she has done something to irritate me.

We are certainly trying to save money, but my wife better be more careful or she may end up seriously injured from “The Shark!”