The Transformation is Complete.

I am now officially my mother.


I hated just about everything that came out of my  mothers mouth once I hit Teen-dom.  Literally every word. She called me Kiddo, I cringed.  “END OF DISCUSSION!!”  Oh mah Gawd.  Make it stop.  The HORROR!!

Now that I have an almost tweener (On the farther side of 11 years old) I found myself in this scenario.

He is about to do the dishes.  During this peaceful moment, I decided to check out the WordPress Reader.  He then tries to attack me with the tongs in a crab like fashion, and I turn and say…

“The longer you take doing the dishes….The longer it is going to take.”


That made absolutely no damned sense. 

He knows it made no sense, I Know it made no sense, hell the cat is still looking at me quizzically.  But she wears plastic bag capes, so she is not to be trusted.


And can I just say, in real life my grout is not that gross looking. 


Anyway, point being, I have evolved completely into the woman between the ages of 15-19 I could not stand.

It is all so very Kafka-esque.  I woke up one day, and was not a roach but my mother.  Wagging my finger, making my jaw go sideways when I am mad, shutting my eyes at my children when I just can not hear anymore…

And I call my kids Kiddo.

I am assuming this must mean I was a complete asshole when I was a teenager.  This is not surprising information. 
Ce La Vie. 

If you need me I will be in the back cataloging my Beatles & Janis Joplin records, and watering the plants in this nifty macrame plant holder.

Are you like your mom or dad?  Did you see it coming or did it just punch  you in the gut one day?


As Always,

Woman on Pause

Play Ball

It is something.  Watching your child work so hard.  Seeing him put the time in.  Seeing him be picked as the best of the best.

We have spent the last 15 out of 18 days at the ball park for little league.  This is on top of already completing the season. This was All Stars. The majors of little league.  The show.

I watched prideful fathers prepare the fields, paint the fences, and work hard with their boys.  Hour after hour.  The boys working hard, running, fielding, pitching, hitting, batting cages, no swimming on game days, hydrating starting 4 hours prior to a game, etc. etc.

Until the big day.  The moment of truth.

Game 1 – Victory!  Our team played beautifully.  Everyone on the team moved like a well oiled machine.  Fielding, hitting, you name it, they nailed it.  My boy hit great and caught the game winning catch.  It was amazing.  I have never been so proud. I have also never jumped up and shouted. Literally, I jumped up and shouted.

I made a itty bitty spectacle of myself, and didn’t care one bit.  That’s MY Boy.


Game 2 – Well……..  Not the best game.  9am 4th of July.  They seemed tired.  I think perhaps they over trained until, well, just over it.  We have been at the ball park FOREVER.

 photo sandlot-forever-o_zps0265233b.gif

And whomever gets the above, gets this post.

We lost game 2. Double elimination, we are still in the game.  There is still a chance they can win the division and go down state to play for the grand title.  State Champions.

Game 3

My boy is starting off pitcher.  It doesn’t go well.  8 runs given up by the 2nd inning.  He is starting to cry.  It hurts my heart so badly, but a part of me knows this type of situation, this disappointment, is good for kids.  As much as it rips apart my  heart to see him hold back tears, to see the frustration.  I know that he is building a set of standards for himself that include hard work, perseverance, and the desire to do well.  He wants something, and it isn’t happening.

Such is life.  Hard lessons are hard learned.

We lose.

Oddly, everyone including the kids seemed relived.

This is something that my son and his father do together.  We, me and his father, haven’t been together for many  many years.  But this is their thing.

Every single one of those kids looked relieved.  Happy that there were no more two hour practices.  Happy they didn’t see their buddy throw up doritos after a 30 minute run after an hour practice. Happy their summer can TRULY begin.

They are 11.


I understand preparation, pride, and wanting to win. Working hard for what you feel your kids deserve.

But I also think, sometimes it is a bit much for kids their age.

But, alas, he wants to do it, and I am thrilled he and his father have this time.

I don’t have anything like this with him.  They have this and no one can take it away.

All I can do is be there, encourage, and take a million pictures.

Give him a big smile, and hugs.

And shoo the gnats from my toes.


At the end of the day, when all is said and done…

All you can do is, Play Ball.


As Always,


Woman on Pause.

Photo/Gif Credits:

Who needs a Bra anyway?

I am now about a month into staying at home, versus working. 

A recap.  I have worked my entire life.  Literally.  Family business = no child labor laws.  I was working a cash register on a step stool at 9.  Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t factory work, but I have just always worked. 

Now I don’t.

And it is weird.


Seriously, I just put on my bra.  10:35am. 

I want to do all the things with the kids.  But I have found this is unrealistic.  I had 1,224,736 things planned for this summer.

We have done two. 

But that being said, we have been quite busy.

I just helped throw a baby shower and I actually made this.


I couldn’t find the letters at the craft store, so I printed out the template, cut it out, and then cut out the letters.

I told her next time she has a kid, It will be named, “Joe.”

I also made 10lbs of those meatballs in grape jelly and bbq sauce, SO GOOD.  I even did fondue. 

This week, I really hope to be able to start the summer.  Not this running around thing that we seem to do every day.  As in preparing to run, running, laying down after running. 

Since I never know what day of the week it is anymore, I am going to hope that the Summer I envisioned starts around July 4th. 

I may need to set my phone to remind me.  And to remind me to put on my bra. 


As Always,


Woman on Pause

Photo Credits
Baby shower – Mine!×250.jpg