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Grade 7 was a wonderful year, but, also the beginning of the worst years of my life if that makes any sense.
I had a wonderful teacher who I think about often.
Ms. Woodrow was a spunky red head with a raspy voice and terrific sense of humour.
I had a best friend.
She was always prettier and smarter and had nicer clothes.
But she was my friend and I loved her.
She is still my friend.
And I still love her.
I was discovering boys.
Blech.
And I was skinny.
Memories from Grade 7 that might not have been from grade seven, but it is what I remember, so lets stick with that.
* I sang 'O Tannenbaum' at the Christmas concert with my BFF and another gal who was also pretty and smart and is probably a doctor or lawyer now.
* My nickname was "Vikaroni". I hated it.
* I got my period for the first time ever on the morning of our year end trip to an outdoor education centre.
The next little bitty might be TMI but it happened...and I like to share traumatic experiences.
So I woke up, excited to go away for a few days with my besties, cute boys and fun teachers. I noticed some ...umm....stuff in my undies and was convinced I was dying. I didn't care though because I was going away and nothing was going to stop me.
If I was dying, hopefully it would happen slowly so I could enjoy the next few days.
So I packed more undies and crossed my fingers that the "stuff" would magically disappear.
Luckily, my mom noticed and gave me the quick talk and stocked me up on pads.
Can you imagine if she didn't notice?
OMG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Dear Mom.
Thank you.
Love Me
Did I just share that story?
Next time you see me, pretend you never read it, OK?
It has been 6 months since my Daddy went to Heaven.
It has not gotten any easier.
In fact, I think it has gotten harder because it is sinking in that he is really gone.....and not coming back.
Totally shitty.
Like runny, poop soup shitty.
I am not sure why his entire family was taken so young, but I am sure there is some deep meaning to it.
One that I will never be OK with though, because I miss him.
My kids miss him.
Everyone that knew him misses him.
There is now a framed photo of my Daddy hanging on our wall, right at our entrance way.
It is located beside the framed photo of my father in law who passed away in 2006....of the same, exact awful disease.
Told ya.
Runny, poop soup shitty, right?
There is also a tree outside our home.
I call it "Daddy's tree"
"Dad's tree"
"Memorial tree"
"The nicest damn tree I have ever seen"
I just know that this tree is going to grow up to be the most beautiful tree in the history of trees.
And I just know that while my hubby was planting the 30 foot tall, 2000 pound beauty, my Daddy was looking down shaking his head at all the trouble he was going through...for him.
Because my Dad did not enjoy any sort of "fuss".
But what he never really understood was that he was totally worth all of the fuss.
Just wait until we add the memorial plaque.
He will be shaking his head and rolling his eyes.
Have you ever watched the show American Pickers?
I am convinced that my husband should be a "Picker" because he just has a talent at finding treasures that every other human being overlooks.
The problem is that he would keep it all rather than sell it.
I will tell you a secret. My big, burly husband is the biggest sentimental, mushy, old-fashioned dork in the world, so I just know that we would have to build a museum to store everything.
He would dust everything.
Keep everything shiny.
Have a gazillion stories to tell about each piece, when the rest of us would just think the stuff looks "neat".
So, when hubby recently cleaned out my Grandpa's {may he be resting in peace with my Daddy} old, rickety driving shed, the finds were almost more than his mushy heart could take.
For me it was the perfect photo opportunity and provided a few moments to get teary-eyed over the family members who used to use the treasures we found.
Apparently I am a sentimental mush pot too.
My Great Grandfather was a Harness Maker. The harness we found all ripped, rusty and almost ruined was almost enough to bring my horse-obsessed husband to do the ugly cry.
But he held it in and gently moved everything away from the elements.
Even though they have been laying around for 40+ years.
*sniff*
The heart on this bridle might have made me so excited, I asked hubby to pose with it.
Just because.
I never met my Great Grandfather but know I would have loved him madly.
But if my hubby had ever met him, I am pretty sure that my Great Grandfather would love him more than me because of the "horse stuff".
Whatever.
I am so mad at myself for not being more interested in our family history when I was younger. When my Grandfather ran a huge dairy farm, I was more interested in swinging on a tire swing than the actual cows and farming process.
Now he is gone. The cows are gone. And all that is left are the places he walked. Full of stuff he used.
Full of stuff left behind.
Thank goodness my hubby found it all.
6 years of preschool.
I thought that I would NOT be overly emotional on the day of the year-end field trip to a small local zoo.
I mean, I have taken the same trip for six years with each one of my children.
I knew exactly what would happen.
The schedule.
The lunch menu provided by the school.
6 years.
I thought I was ready for it to be done.
But this year was different because it was the last year ever that I will be hopping on a school bus holding my little ones hand as they climb up the big steps.
The last year that I will have them sleeping on my legs for the ride home.
I was a complete mess people.
Like, when you want to hold in the ugly cry but end up looking even uglier because you are trying to hold it in.
Like, when you get emotional just watching your baby run away from the goats because her two older brothers did the same thing.
She didn't quite understand the sentimental mood Mommy was in and informed me many many times that she had no interest in the animals.
"The animals are full of crappy crap" she told me over and over again.
"Just stand next to the sleepy tiger hunny bunny, so Mommy can get a picture".
Because that is what I did with both of her brothers in the years earlier.
"No"
"Please"
"I dont wike duh aminals"
"Stand beside them and I will buy you an ice cream"
"OK"
Parenting tip #89205485
When all else fails, bribe them with treats.
None of my children had any interest in the animals. Have you ever heard of something so ridiculous in your life?
So we wandered the small zoo even though it was the last thing she wanted to do.
I was reminiscing about all of the memories made with all three of my little children. I remembered exactly how they reacted when a giraffe licked their hand or how they jumped when the bird said hello as we walked by.
I remembered how the boys hated posing for pictures...
...but how my girl was taking it to a whole new level.
But mostly I remembered that it is the little things that they have loved the most about the zoo.
The bus ride.
See Saw rides with their friends
Pushes on the swings
And the ice cream.
I was remembering a time I was at a house party thrown by someone I had never met, but he knew who I was there with, so it was totally ok. I think. Anyways, I was remembering a bunch of us went out for a fancy dinner before going to the party and I had a baked potato with sour cream.
Except I think the sour cream had been sitting in a warm room for approximately 6 months before they served it to well paying stupid people like me.
Fast forward a few hours later as we sat at this party.
The rumbly in my tumbly began and I just ignored it hoping that it would just go away.
It didnt.
I waddled my way to the bathroom hoping I didnt poop my pants on the way and found about 7 people waiting in line.
CHATUGSVXHJVHNVHYDFYUFDGUJBJ!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Have you ever pooped your pants as an adult?
I wasthisclose until I completely ran in as soon as the door opened and before anyone could stop me.
It was kinda like this scene.
Except the toilet flushed {Thank goodness}.
And there were 7 very angry people standing there when I opened the door.
True story.
It was horrifying at the time.
Now.....frickin hilarious.
Watching this clip is what brought me to a full on belly laugh after 3 weeks of sadness.
Thank you Dumb and Dumber.
Lets discuss.
Share your poop soup stories so I can laugh some more.
Please.
And thank you.
*Psst...tomorrow I am doing a Random Tuesday post. Get yours together and you can link up with me here.
