Dream Big Baby

The other day on the way to school, Drew noticed a restaurant with a 'For Sale' sign. He screamed "Mom, go back! There's a restaurant for sale!!"


This kid is DYING to have his own restaurant. 


And it literally melted my heart to hear his excitement about this building for sale.... because that excitement means he really and truly believes it's THAT simple.


Have mom stop the car, go into the building, hand over that magic plastic card she hides in her wallet, and TA DA... He becomes a 7 year old restaurant owner. 


Oh my baby, I sure wish it was that easy. If I could make it happen.. just like that.. I'd do it in a heart beat. 


We continued our ride to school and I explained to him a few of the reasons why it's just not possible RIGHT NOW. 


    -Mom is poor. Sorry.
    -I don't think 7 meets the legal working age requirement in California.
    -School. Running a business would take A LOT of work... and I need him focused on school      for the next 10 years at least. 


But one day.... Someday... 


And if I have any suggestion at all towards his future establishments location... I suggest the beach... 

Emotional Control Freak

Being a single parent means you're pretty much in full control all the time. I am the decision maker for EVERYTHING in my house (Drew would probably disagree, but then again.. he's 7). I make all decisions concerning myself and my son. I control who comes and goes... what is worn and when it's worn.. I control the temperature of the house and the contents of the refrigerator.


I am in control. Like it or not, this is just the way it is (and for the record.. I LOVE it this way).


I was reminded today that there is one area of my life where I lack control. Not completely... but in a small way and on occasion.. I lack control of my emotions. 


For at least the past 6 months I have received a phone call every Wednesday afternoon. This person is calling in hopes that I have left work early and can see him for a bit before he picks up his son. For the last 6 months, my answer has always been no (not because I didn't want to, but because I'm not taking time off work for anyone other than Drew.. Ever). But he still calls. Week after week... consistently... Like clock work. I look forward to these calls.. with pure anticipation. 


Today he called. I said no, as always.. we talked for a couple minutes and that was it. When I hung up I was smiling. Glad to have received the call. Glad that after 13 years he still "get's to me". Glad that today he thought of me. 


Then I kind of got to thinking.. I started wondering"what if" and "why not"... I miss him. He makes me smile. 


Then he called back about 5 minutes later. He wanted to buy me something (very very inexpensive ($1) and random..) and was calling to see if it was something WE would use. WE.. Drew and I. It wasn't, but I thanked him and said it's the thought that counts. When I hung up I almost cried. It was the weirdest thing... crying over a purchase that didn't even happen.. Crying because he was thinking of US.. Drew and I. 


Then 2 minutes later I was irritated. Not with him, but with myself. I HATE getting emotional about ANYTHING (other than Drew). I hate that I let anyone have that type of effect on me. I like being in control. I like predictability in my life and structure. Random moments of emotion (not related to Drew) just have no place in my life. 


I need to gain control back. I need to remain focused on Drew.. and OUR life. 


The last time I lost emotional control like this was 3 months ago when WE took OUR son to the hospital. . . . He still gets to me... 

Doggy Dad

Drew refers to the dogs as his "sons" or his "boys".
He says he's their dad and I'm their mom... but some times he tells me I'm their grandma. 


I like to remind him that one dog is his, one is mine, and the other is OURS. 


The first chihuahua we got was because he wanted one. So Brady, our tan itty bitty, is all his (except he LOVES to cuddle with Mama).

Then there's my Franklin Joseph Jackson III (or Frankie J.. for short). I found him outside my office one day and fell in love. 

And a few months ago we acquired Rocky (AKA Monster Dog) from an animal shelter. Rocky is OUR dog and is in need of constant attention.....

Drew does great with "his boys" and takes very good care of them. Feeding them is completely his responsibility (unless he's at his dad's) and he rarely has to be reminded to do it. The first thing he does when he gets home from school (or anywhere) is let the dogs in the house. He really does love his "sons".

Last night Drew noticed that Frankie was only walking on 3 legs, and kept one of the back ones lifted. Drew came right in the kitchen and demanded that we take Frankie to the vet NOW. I told Drew he probably just hurt it while playing with the other dogs, and went to take a look at it. Frankie let me touch his leg, foot and hip and never made a sound or tried to move a way. I told Drew he'd be fine, we'd just make sure he took it easy for the night. Mr. Stubborn Doggy Daddy was not satisfied with my diagnoses. He said Tylenol was in order at least for the pain, but not the yucky cherry flavor (the kid does have standards). I agreed he was probably right and gave Frankie some doggy pain reliever (it's red, and I'm pretty sure I smelled cherry....). 

But Drew was still not happy..... shocker, I know.

So he went to his room and got HIS blanket. His baby blanket... that he NEVER shares with anyone (or any dog). 

It appears my son has inherited his mother's over-protectiveness. He took great care of Frankie last night, even making him sleep in HIS bed with him all night. 

I am happy to report that Frankie survived the night and was running around with the other two monsters on all 4 legs this morning. 

Who Needs Sleep Anyway?

When my son was born, MY bed became OUR bed. This was completely my choice and I've LOVED having him there. 


When we got dogs, OUR bed became THEIR bed. They're chihuahuas and I felt they were too little to be outside at night. (I know, they're dogs.. but they're itty bitty dogs...) Besides, how much more space could they really take up on our king sized bed?


When we got another dog... he joined in on the co-sleeping / family bed thing too. He's not a chihuahua.. but he's not a german shepard either. 


So for the past 7 and a half years I've been sharing my bed. With a growing boy (ok, barely growing.. but still), and three little dogs. But lately (honestly it's probably forever... ) I just haven't been sleeping right. 


The kid is a wiggle worm. He kicks and moves and flips and ends up it the weirdest positions that look so uncomfortable. This in itself wasn't a huge problem, annoying, but tolerable. It's his tiny size 12 feet that end up in my face that drive me insane! It is beyond impossible to sleep while being kicked in the face.. sorry kid, I tried.. but I'm over it!


Then there's the issue of the newest dog. Rocky is a little wild. When it's time for bed, he is the first to jump up there.. but the LAST to settle down. And he is a licker.. oh this dog and his tongue!! Then there's the fact that when he does finally settle down, he chooses to sleep ON my feet. As if that's even remotely comfortable for ME.. and heaven forbid I have the desire to switch positions while I sleep. And Rocky likes to get down from the bed and roam around the house in the middle of night. This wakes me up because his little nails are so loud on the wood floors.. and I have to jump up and try to stop him before he goes marking his territory all over the place. 


Last week I started by finally putting the dogs outside to sleep. It's been warmer, and they do have a dog house so it's really no big deal. Except my itty bittys now hate me. 


Then I decided it was time to get Mini-Me out of there. This kid is sworn against sleeping in his room for ANY reason. He's done it.. about 5 times in 7 years.. but it has been done. I admit he's gotten better about fighting me on this... but he's not going to go down easily. Last night's attempt at stalling was a good one. He says "Mom, every time I blink my stomach hurts." I couldn't help but laugh a little. Seriously kid?? Nice try... I said "So stop blinking. CLOSE your eyes completely and your stomach will be fine."  *One point for Mom. 


So the dogs were outside.. and Drew was in his OWN bed.... 


And I only got up 4 times through out the night to check on them. 


How does that saying go?... "I'll sleep when I'm dead"

Severe Lack of Motivation

I've never been a cleaner. Ever. 
Cleaning is just not my thing. I don't like to do it and I'm honestly not very good at it.


Our house is not filthy. But it's also no where near immaculate. While I do have a bit of "Hoarder" in me.... I do manage to keep our home semi-decent. 


I will avoid cleaning at all costs. When there is absolutely nothing going on at home, I will either make an excuse to go out (shopping, lunch) or just go to bed... anything to avoid cleaning.


For example: Last night I was home alone. Got home from work at 4:30. Changed right into my comfy sweats and laid on the couch, remote in hand. Left to grab dinner at 5:30. Came home and climbed right back on to the couch. In bed at 8:00. 


There were dishes and dusting to be done. The floors are ALWAYS in need of a good sweeping and mopping. Seen a few cobwebs around lately. That stack of random papers on the kitchen counter is ever-growing. 


But I didn't do a single thing. I had ZERO desire. None. 


I would absolutely LOVE to have a clean house 24/7. That would just be freaking fantastic!! I just refuse to be the person who gets it clean. 


Cleaning is SOOOOOO boring. There isn't one single thing about cleaning that I find enjoyable. 


How does everyone else motivate themselves to clean??


And then there's the exercise dilemma. 


This is probably the only thing I dread more than cleaning. (Yes, basically I am the laziest person EVER. Feel free to mail me my trophy.)


I've never been a health conscious person. Chocolate and ice cream have their own food groups in my house. 


I've also never been concerned with my weight. Ever since giving birth I've been over weight. But not morbidly obese or anything, so it's never been a concern. Could I afford to lose 30 pounds? Absolutely. Do I have the slightest desire to do the work it would take to even lose 5 pounds? Not a chance. 


Playing football or basketball with my son is the ONLY form of exercise my body gets. And that's because it's simply me playing with my kid... not running on a treadmill or doing push ups. 


But lately I've noticed my jeans getting tighter.. again. Normally this isn't a big deal, just go buy bigger jeans. But this time it's different... not sure why, it just feels different. 


So the desire to lose a few pounds.. maybe 10... is there. But the motivation is non-existent. All those hours I spent laying on the couch last night could have been better spent. I just couldn't do it. 


What motivates the rest of the exercise-crazed world to get off their lazy butts and do something?


So until I'm able to find some motivation, I'll be sitting on the couch... eating ice cream.