Thursday morning...

Corbin - Mom, they told us yesterday that we don't have school today because it is too cold.
Me - Well, its really not that cold outside, remember?
Corbin - They said it was too cloudy to have school.
Me - I don't really think they cancel school because its too cloudy.
Corbin - Really. We have to stay home today. No one else will be there.
Me - (not wanting to fight the battle) We'll see.
Corbin - Mom. For real. It is too cloudy for school.

I guess he was more eager to go after he ate his breakfast, because I didn't hear anything more about it. But when we got home last night, he got the pen that goes with our dry erase calendar and wrote "NO SCHOOL" really big over today's date.

I think he is ready for a break. Good thing Easter break comes next week. 51/2 days off.

My life this week

While at the grocery store...

Corbin: Mom, can I get a toy?
Me: No, I just bought you new movies and gave you those toys from my trip.

(later at the checkout counter)

Corbin: Well, if I can't get a toy then I am getting some gum. (He has taken to experimenting with different methods to get his way - right now it's being authoritative.)
Me: No, you haven't behaved while we were at the store, so you don't get any gum.
Corbin: You are a SINNER!
Me: Um, what? (silently cursing the Catholic school decision)
Corbin: You are a sinner and that means you are a lier!
Me: (silence)

*****

This morning on the way to school:

Corbin: Mom, only 174 more days and I will be in first grade!!
Me: (exaggerated excitement) Yea! You're so big!
Corbin: (rolling eyes - also a new habit) I didn't want you to be excited about it.
Me: Uh, okay.

Fixing to leave

Above is a pic from the wedding Corbin and I were in this past November. What a handsome man.

So I'm am headed to sunny Orlando tomorrow on a business trip. While the trip will be a fun one - one where I get to basically walk around theme parks, my excitement is muted by the many mental notes I am making on what I need to do both at work and home before I leave. What I need to pack. What needs to get cleaned up and what can wait until the weekend (I wish I had thought ahead like that before I left dishes from tacos in the sink all weekend while I went to the lake - oh the smell). And of course, preparing Corbin for 2 1/2 days without me. While I know he will have a blast being spoiled by his grandparents, I also know that he is very routine oriented (as I have become as well). And I know that he tends to get a little anxious when he has to be without me during the school week. He could care less on the weekends as long as he gets to play the whole time. I know that many people talk about the challenges and joys of parenting, but the part that pains me the most, is never feeling complete when I am not around my little one. He truly is a part of me, almost an extension of my own body. I don't know if all parents feel that way, or if my feeling is more intense because its just the two of us and he literally is my life. So I am anxious preparing for this break. I know that once I am gone the days will go by quickly, but anticipating that time pains me. I can remember the last time I left for this amount of time - I had to take deep breaths and quickly refocus my attention after getting off the phone with him to avoid crying. Of course, he was much younger then. Anyway, perhaps its just that I remember well the feeling of missing my parents when they would leave town and I hate to think that he might feel that way.

Anyway, I know that everything will be fine, he will have fun and we will have the weekend to spend together. But all of this makes me wonder. If I feel like I am missing my right arm when I am without him now, how the hell will I make it through college?! Yep, I am already fearing the fact that someday he will grow up and have his own life. While that is exactly what you want for your children, its terrifying.

Ok, so this was a rambling mess of thought, so I will end it with the statement that can legitimize anything you ever say - "I'm just saying."

Spring on Delmar

So, it could be a sign of adult onset of ADD, but I seem to be unable to ignore the sounds from outside lately. It's especially bad now that I've had the windows open at work lately. In the past two weeks, I've witnessed:

• A man peeing on a building across the street in clear view of everyone driving by. When he was done, he got in his minivan and left. I was shocked. I really didn't pick him as a minivan man.
• A couple getting in a screaming match. Through the windows it was hard to make out what the fight was about, but at the end, as she was walking across the street "giving him the hand", I swear he asked her if she wanted some chicken. (There's a Churches next door.) So my conclusion is that she was mad at him because he never does nice things for her, and he offered her some chicken. She did not take him up on the offer.
• Just now, I witnessed a couple getting kicked out of Pin Up Bowl across the street. Judging from the words exchanged, there was some disorderly conduct. Not only did a police car show up, but a paddy wagon as well. Too bad the offenders walked down the street and out of sight about 10 minutes ago. Not so impressed with the response time.

Stay tunes for updates on what's goin' down on Delmar.

Sounds like the men who try to woo me. When men try to woo me.

PERHAPSMY PICKUP LINESNEED WORK.
BY FRANK FERRI
- - - -
If I were a saccharimeter, and a lab technician in the research-and-development department of a major candy manufacturer's headquarters were to place me in you (but not in a dirty way, for you are simply the syrupy base for a potential new candy product, and I am just an instrument that can help determine your level of sweetness), the reading would be so far off the Brix scale that the technician would not, in good conscience, be able to recommend that the company proceed with manufacturing you on a large scale, for you would be much too cloying and, as further analysis would prove, quite dangerous to the target demographic of children ages of 8 to 14 (but I, on the other hand, would find you perfectly sweet).
- - - -
If I were diabetic—and, judging by my family history, my eating habits, and my elevated fasting glucose levels, chances are good that I am well on my way—and I were to eat you (again, not in an improper way but in an honest-to-goodness-my-blood-sugar-is-dropping-and-I-really-need-to-eat-something-fast way), there would be a good chance that after just one nibble of you, my pancreas would experience such a shock and my sugar levels would soar to such astronomical levels that I would enter a state of hyperglycemia and would suffer the related horrible effects, culminating in a hyperosmolar nonketotic coma, which means that I would be in severe trouble should you not take me to the emergency room immediately—but it would all be worth it, as long as I came out of it relatively unharmed—and I would have a second nibble, for your sweetness is an elixir that I could not live without, no matter the risks.
- - - -
If I were again to eat you and again out of hunger and nothing more, but this time my pancreas was a perfectly functioning one that secreted the proper amount of insulin, and I had a pretty standard health-insurance plan with average dental coverage, the snack of you would have repercussions for months to come, for I would visit my dentist and he would diagnose me with a heretofore unseen aggressive form of advanced tooth decay, and he would be alarmed at the rate at which my teeth had rotted since eating you, and he wouldn't believe that I brush my teeth three times a day and floss twice daily (admittedly, the flossing is a lie), and my teeth would be so pitted and hole-ridden and gruesome that he wouldn't believe I've never done crystal meth, and I would fall deeper into credit-card debt to pay for the enormous amounts of dental work required because of how sweet you are.
- - - -
If you were a new breed of chili pepper, you would be shiny and exotic and have nice smooth skin, and I would slice you in half and remove your stem but keep the inner ribbing and seeds (where the heat of the pepper is concentrated), which would prove to be a huge mistake, for I would mince you and add you to the ground turkey mixture that I'd be cooking and using as the filling for my low-fat baked empanadas, and I'd take one taste and immediately regret not researching the Scoville rating of you-as-a-pepper (which would somehow rank higher than pure capsaicin), and I'd begin to sweat and tear because you are so damn hot, and you'd think I was gross and had some sort of glandular problem, and I'd take the knife I used to slice you in your chili form and I'd plunge that knife into my heart because I couldn't bear it if you found me repulsive.
- - - -

I'm comin' back