Why I care about the royal wedding

I've seen a couple of articles recently proclaiming that the authors don't care about the royal wedding.  Their opinions range from the "monarchy is out-dated" to "it's un-American" (yeah, seriously, someone wrote that). 

Who cares?

It's fun.  It's something to watch.  It's something to get involved in.  I'm personally excited about it.  Why?

History.

Not the history of the monarchy itself, but my history.  My mom got up at 3 am the morning of Charles and Diana's wedding to watch it.  She and Diana were the same age.  William and I were born just a couple of weeks apart.  She and I always followed the news of the royal family (well, whatever news was reported in People magazine).  When Diana died, we woke up at 3 am to watch her funeral.  So yeah, I'm going to watch the wedding.  Not at 4 am (CST), because I value my sleep too much, but later, with my friends at a play date.  I've also watched some of the shows that have been on, such as Kate's bio, the story of their relationship, and the Lifetime movie "William and Kate" (awesome, highly recommended- the actor playing William is adorable!)  Because it's fun.  And it's something I can tell my daughter about years from now-- maybe when she's watching the wedding of William and Kate's child.

This city is too damn small.

I am a non-confrontational person.  I avoid uncomfortable situations.  I refrain from debate.  I would rather walk away than fight (I'm a lover, not a fighter, baby). 

So why is it that I continue to run into the one person I don't want to run into?

Very brief backstory: A couple of months ago a woman I had recently met made some disparaging remarks about me.  My feelings were hurt, and ties were cut with this person. 

I have since seen this woman twice.  The first time wasn't even in San Antonio- I ran into her at the children's museum in another town.  It took me a second to recognize her, and before I could usher Ty away and avoid any awkwardness he had already run over into the play area where her and her daughter were.  We did not speak directly to one another, but rather through our kids ("Ty, can you hand [insert daughter's name, which I don't remember] the fish?" and so on).  Luckily, we were meeting some friends there for lunch, and by the time we went back into the museum, she had left.

There is a local park that this woman goes to, as it is in her neighborhood.  I haven't been there in a while (subconsciously avoiding it) but ventured over there today, as the library park I usually frequent did not have parking available.  "Surely she won't be there," I wrongly thought.  After all, I've been there quite a few times, and have only seen her there once.

Yep, in the midst of about 50 field-tripping elementary school kids, I saw her.  Damn it.

I pretended like I didn't see her (juvenile move, I know) and proceeded to feed Lily while Ty played.  She ended up leaving about 5 minutes after we got there.

Man, I know people always compare San Antonio to living in a small town, but I totally get it now.

You know, boys wear flip flops, too.

I went to Babies R Us yesterday, totally excited because they had a 2 for $5 sale on flip flops.  I wanted to get Ty a couple of pairs to wear this summer.  Yes, he already has his generic Crocs (aka his "guitar shoes") and his slip on shoes to wear.  But it's hot here!  And, to be honest, the afore mentioned Crocs and slip ons are black and gray, and don't match any of his brown clothing.

So Lily and I walked around BRU, looking for Easter basket gear and flip flops.  And looking.  And looking.  I checked the tiny shoe department at least 3 times.  There were no flip flops.

No, I'm sorry, there were.  For girls.  Rows and rows of cute little pink, gold, silver, blue, purple, glittery sandals and flip flops.  The boys section?  A shelf of tennis shoes and some tiny baby flip flops.  That's it.

I remember shopping for Ty when he was a baby.  I was so disappointed in the selections.  TONS of cute little girl clothes; one rack of cute boy clothes.  And let's not start with the so-called "gender neutral" clothing.  That stuff is crap.

It got me thinking about the whole "girl = pink, boy = blue."  I remember learning about this in women's studies 101 (practically a requirement- as well it should be- at my all women's college).  The color pink actually used to be ascribed for boys, and blue for girls, back in ye olde days of the early 20th century.  It reversed sometime in the 1950s. 

There was a controversy a couple of weeks ago about a J Crew advertisement.  There was a picture of a woman painting her son's toenails hot pink.  It was a beautiful, bonding, playful moment between a mother and her child.  However, people immediately became up in arms, claiming the boy was now going to be gay, confused about his gender, etc, because he had his nails painted.

...So what? 

First off, if he's gay, he was born that way, so it ain't gonna change, whether he has his toenails painted or not.  Secondly, if he does feel more like a girl trapped in a boy's body, how in the hell does that affect you ("you" being the people who are so appalled by this)? 

You don't want a kid's toenails painted?  Don't paint them.  But don't bring the hammer down on those who do.

This was my 5 minute Stream of Consciousness Sunday post, hosted by allthingsfadra.com. It’s five minutes of your time and a brain dump. Want to try it? Here are the rules…

• Set a timer and write for 5 minutes only.
• Write an intro to the post if you want but don’t edit the post. No proofreading or spellchecking. This is writing in the raw.
• Publish it somewhere. Anywhere.

It was a good day.

I was a good mom today.

Yesterday, I wasn't.

I yelled.  I threw things (not while the kids were around, of course).  I was stressed.  I was mean.  I wasn't proud of myself.

I've been stressing about so many things.  The ongoing, unending renovations to the house that Steve is single-handedly undertaking, which has left our backyard a mess- or at least a bigger mess than it already was.  Trying to keep the house (somewhat) clean, without leaving Lily's sight-- she tends to cry if she can't see me, which sets Ty off, and we all know that a 6 month old and 2 year old tandem crying fit is super awesome.  Lily is also still waking up at night, though she is more than capable of sleeping completely through it (as she has done before).  So last night I started the process of weaning her from her overnight bottle.  She's not hungry, it's just habitual.  Therefore, I was awake from 3:30 until about 6:15, calming her when she would wake up. 

Surprisingly, I do pretty well on 4-5 hours of very broken sleep.  Of course, a venti white chocolate mocha from Starbucks helped tremendously.

Aside from a trip to the Forum (local shopping area) with Lily for Easter basket gifts while Ty was hanging out and riding around with Steve, we just stayed at home and relaxed.  Ty skipped his nap, so he watched a little "sticky that-way" (his way of saying dinosaurs...not sure where he got that from) on "Dino Dan," then we played outside while Lily napped.  He hopped like a frog, played with "baby rocks," "flew" (me holding him up in the air-- my arms will feel that tomorrow), and laid down and stared up at the sky through the green branches.  It was fantastic.  We had nowhere to be.  The house was somewhat clean, laundry was going, baby was sleeping.  Nice and peaceful.  Then for a little "me" time, I hit up the gym and started week 2 of the Couch to 5K program.  Now, the kids are asleep and I'm enjoying a nice glass of wine, loving the peace and quiet.

Well, it's somewhat quiet.  Steve keeps yelling at the TV while he watches the Spurs playoff game.

Disclaimer

This is not a family blog.

This is a place where I can share my thoughts, opinions, or funny stories.  It is not an update on what is going on in my kids' lives.  It is not a place where I will regularly post pictures of the kids. 

There will be cursing.  There will be political talk.  I will post my liberal beliefs, that may or may not mesh with yours, and I will not apologize for it.  I may talk about things that are disturbing to you.  But I will not change it.  I will not censor myself.

This is not a blog that I want certain family members to read-- namely, my grandfather.  I do not curse in front of my grandfather.  I do not talk politics.  I do not rail against the system, or flaunt my beliefs, which may or may not mesh with his.  Please, if you are a family member, do not send this blog to my grandfather, or any other family members who will not appreciate it.  I have a separate family blog that I send out, and I will be glad to add anyone to the mailing list for that one.  On that blog, I send out updates and pictures of the kids.  It is only about the kids.  It is family-friendly.

This blog is not.

Thank you for your time.

I resisted as long as I could.

This weekend I took a break from nagging Steve about finishing the deck to nagging him to finally get a van.  We've been talking about getting one for over a year.  We've tried twice to get one, and each time failed.  But finally we buckled down, called CarMax, drove to Austin, and came home with this beauty.

It's new to us!  2008 Honda Odyssey

Ty loves to crawl in and play.

We are totally in love.  We even got up Sunday, packed ourselves and the kids in (pajamas and all!), and drove to pick up coffee and doughnuts. 

It's such a relief to have a vehicle that isn't crammed with car seats, reusable bags, sippy cups, toys, books, receipts and various other odds and ends.  Now there's a place for everything.  And we're ready for some road tripping!

Texas oak, I bow down to you.

After years of denial, it's time that I finally admitted something.  Something I've been running away from for quite some time.  Something that affects me yearly, though I'm loathe to admit it.

Hi, my name is Lindsay...and I have allergies.

I really don't understand how this happened.  I mean, I grew up in Georgia.  Where everything is yellow-green from the pollen for the entire months of March and April.  24 years of dealing with Southern pollen and I was always fine.  Nary a cold!

I moved to south Texas in the summer of 2006.  I was fine.  Then, in the spring of 2007, I got a cold.  Then another in 2008.  And 2009.  And 2010.  And this year.  My friend Cathy has always insisted that it was allergies, but no, I was adamant.  "Pshaw!  You call this pollen?  The pollen in Georgia would laugh at this pollen, then throw it down and kick it's ass!" 

Then last Wednesday I woke up with a very sexy, raspy voice.  Ooh la la.  By that evening it was accompanied by it's good friend, the mucus-y cough.  It got worse on Thursday.  By Friday, I was coughing and sneezing.  My eyes were itchy and my nose was running.  It's still here, a week later.  And now, I'm ready to admit defeat.

I'm sorry, Georgia pollen.  I was immune to you.  But the south Texas oak has claimed another victim.

My friend Angie recommended that I take 1 tablespoon of local honey each day, which helps build an immunity to the local allergens.  Makes sense to me!  So my next course of action is a trip to the farmers market on Saturday for a nice size bottle of local honey.  If I survive until then...