By Portia Nelson

Chapter 1:
I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I fall in.
I am lost, I am helpless.
It isn’t my fault.
It takes forever to find the way out.

Chapter 2:
I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend that I don’t see it.
I fall in again.
I can’t believe I am in the same place, but
It isn’t my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.

Chapter 3:
I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I still fall in.
It’s a habit.
Yet my eyes are open.
I know where I am.
It is my fault.
I get out immediately.

Chapter 4:
I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.

Chapter 5:
I walk down a different street.

Andrew was away yesterday and a package came for him. My curiosity was great, but I left it alone. What else could I do? Tamper with the U.S. Mail? Never.

Today, when he got back in town, I had already forgotten about it. So imagine my surprise when he presented me with….

A Julia lunchbox! Just like the one I had in 3rd grade. Wow, he really does listen to me. (Who knew?) I wrote about my old lunchbox here last August. And I suppose I mentioned it a time or two.

After all, I was the only student at Winand Elementary with that particular lunchbox.

And now, I have one again.

Wasn’t it so sweet of him to seek this out and get it for me?

Thanks, Honey. I love it!

Back in the summer of 2000, we took a trip to Montana. My in-laws bought the boys these adorable hats and I took this snapshot. When I sent the photo to my brother, he sent it back to me with several different backgrounds. I love this one with the roaming buffalo in the background.

I was thinking about this trip because it was, perhaps, one of the most challenging travel situations I have ever and will ever face. After Montana, the boys and I were planning to visit my friend in Omaha without Andrew. So he put the four of us on a plane in Bozeman. One double stroller, 2 car seats, 1 toddler, 2 preschoolers, 2 suitcases and 1 extremely unstable mom (that would be me). It started out fine. We settled in. Did I mention it was nighttime? We were supposed to land in Kansas City at 8:30 p.m. Being the account manager that I was, I had called ahead to be sure the there would be red-caps there to help at KCI at that time. There would be. They are there until 9:00 pm.

We got a late start, but I was not alarmed.

The boys all fell asleep on the flight. How peaceful! I drifted and relaxed. What a joy.

And then.

The plane landed. And the boys woke up.

Crying. Well, Max and Reed were crying. And it was after 9:00 pm. Oh no.

So imagine this. I put two crying kids in strollers, put 2 car seats in car seat bags and threw them over my shoulder, grabbed the carry on and Davis’ hand and started moving toward baggage claim.

It wasn’t pretty.

But it got

much

worse.

The bags came. I couldn’t get them off the carousel and take care of the boys at the same time. The crying was so…out of control.

Some very nice man took the bags off for me. And he got me a rolling cart and loaded them.

There were no redcaps left at the airport.

All I had to do was get the rental car and I was all set. So I went to the phones and called Avis. Where do I go to get the car?

“Get on the shuttle bus and you can get the car.”

Sobbing now, I told the young guy on the other end of the phone that it wasn’t possible. I could not get my double stroller, 2 car seats, 2 crying and 1 bleary kids, 2 suitcases and me onto a shuttle. I could not, I wailed.

“We’ll come get you,” the young man said, “how will we find you?”

“I’m the one with short brown hair and a red shirt, standing hysterical by the curb at door 35 with 3 small kids. You can’t miss me.”

When the guy got there, he kindly installed the car seats, put the luggage in the trunk and drove me to the Avis location. Quickly, I was able to leave. Perhaps not with my dignity, but I did get to leave.

All is well. Right?

Well? No.

It’s almost a 3-hour drive from Kansas City to Omaha. I love to drive. It’s an easy ride. No worries.

Except the boys fell right asleep with the vibrations and the sound of the road. And after about 1/2 hour, I had to go to the bathroom very badly. Very badly.

Stop at a rest stop and run in, leaving the kids in the car? I don’t think so! What to do?

Drive through a fast food joint, get a large coke and dump it for the cup. Am I proud? No. But sometimes, the options aren’t so great.

I went from laughing to crying on Route 29. I talked to my friend almost the whole way, which helped a lot.

It’s funny. The boys are getting so big and so independent. I should be relieved. Surely looking back at how hard it was at times when they were little, you’d think I’d be thrilled to be past it.

But look at those little guys?

Who wouldn’t miss that?

This photo of my grandparents was taken at my wedding in 1993. Both of them are gone, now.

May 22, 1912 was her birthday. May 27, 1912 was his. So he married an older woman…

When they turned 75, there was a big 150th birthday celebration.

They would have been 95 this week.

I’m thinking of them today.

Thirteen seems a little overwhelming today and since it’s Tuesday and not Thursday anyway, I thought it might be nice for a change of pace. Hence, Two fer Tuesday.

Two Things I’m Really Excited About Right this Second

1) Gnightgirl might come visit this summer!
2) The pools open this weekend!

(Notice how quick a read my new Two fer Tuesday is? Some call it efficient. Some say lazy. I say to-mate-o, you say tom-at-o)…

Just looking over the last few entries, I notice I’ve been a bit grumpy lately. I’ll start working on an attitude adjustment. I’m really not a negative Nelly. Right Liz? I’m Little Mary Sunshine!

We went to see Shrek the Third. As you can imagine, others had the same idea. We found a row that looked good and it had 1 too few seats together (there were 6 of us). Luckily, after the 5 seats, there was a mom and her daughter and then 2 more empty seats. So Andrew asked her if she’d mind moving down 1 seat so we could fit.

And she said….

No, I’d rather not.

Huh?

We were flabbergasted. Flabbergasted, I say.

Later on (after we found seats, that is), I looked over and noticed that all the seats around this woman and her kid were full. So if she was aiming for some extra space, not going to happen. If she was just too important to move…

Well, I just don’t know what to say.

I was going to call this An Open Letter to Marketers but I felt like such a Jenne’ wannabe. So here we are stuck with that title. Oh, never mind. Here I go.

Dear Marketers of products and services to Adults 40+ or Occupant:

We know you are glad we have become such avid consumers. We treat ourselves well (cha-ching) and we are in constant desire of more. More, more, more. And, lucky for you, we’ve finally attained enough to be able to afford all that. Well, some of it. Okay, a little.

You keep making new ads with younger-looking older people. You try to portray us in commercials as fun and hip, even though you think we’re tired and ratty and old. Fine. We can live with it. We recognize that you are young and naive and you don’t realize what it’s like to be a little older. We have found peace with our (minor) wrinkles and our (extremely minor) cellulite and our (perhaps slightly less minor) waddle and muffin top.

So, when you call us ma’am when we come into your shops and you treat us like we don’t understand technology and you humor us with your strained smiles…remember that it was you, yes you, who told us we are young enough to wear your jeans and that we are young enough to frequent your restaurant or hip enough to use your service.

So don’t go treating us like we are old. Think it. Whatever. But don’t call me ma’am.

Give me a little respect. I still feel young.

You all know I play poker. But you may not know that there is some pretty stiff competition right here in my own house. Yes, folks. It’s true.

So tonight, after a yummy dinner at my parents’ house and a fun ride for the kids up and down the hallways in my dad’s scooter (no, not the Vespa type…) and some Tawny Port… we came home, got in pjs, and…. set up the card table!

You might be surprised to know that my guys are naturals. They kept me on my toes tonight. I did manage to turn the game around, but it was touch and go for a while.

Reed went all in with a bluff hand and I ended up with 4 of a kind. That clinched the deal…

All I know is that nothing is more fun than playing with the boys…