Life in VA

Why We Should ALL Drink the Kool-Aid

2009-07-02T15:14:00.002-04:00

Last night, I got a very disturbing phone call. I know when I look at my phone and it says, "Mama's Cell", I better answer (my parents are of the generation that cell phones are only for 'mergencees). My Dad is in the hospital with chest pains. Now, normally, it wouldn't be a big deal, but this summer marks the 10-year anniversary of his first heart attack.

As little girls, we think our Daddies can do anything. They are the strongest, smartest, and most idyllic figures in our little pink fluffy worlds. So, when you see your Daddy lying on a hospital bed connected to wires and monitors, there tends to be a paradigm shift in your mind. Big Time.

The years have gone by and he, for a long time, watched what he ate and paid more attention to exercise. Big Wayne retired, moved to a river, and bought a bigger boat. Now, here we are again, without stress to blame. In a few words, he let himself go. And my heart is broken.

What does this have to do with the Woodstock reference??? Well, I recently returned from a week long stay with one of my best, dearest friends in San Francisco. I fell in love with the city. I had visited years ago, but had only done the tourist things. I hadn't really seen the city. Everywhere we went, the food tasted better, the air was crisp and clean, and you actually wanted to walk everywhere. You were cheating Mother Nature somehow if you were in a car or sitting on a couch re watching the latest episode of Charm School.

I came home and told my lovely husband that we were going green. No more processed foods (his favorite, yech). We were going organic, a decision I had been mulling over for a few months anyway. I had officially drank the California granola-flavored Kool-Aid. Thank you, Dr. Leary. I want to leave the world a better place for Rylee and our future children and I don't ever want them to see me in a hospital bed before my time.

Which brings me back to Big Wayne. Had he heeded the advice of my mom and his doctors, he would still be on his John Deere, making sure each blade of emerald green grass is totally even. However, his Southern Pride gets in the way and he always has to have the "Pork Plate with a Jumbo Sweet Tea" or douse everything in gravy and ketchup (sometimes at the same time). He knows it's bad for him, but as a society, we tend to think if it's healthy, it's weird, strange, new-fangled or not right.

Why do we, as a collective American culture, tend to laugh at people who "Go Green"? Aren't we saving ourselves from ending up gone to soon? I want to know my children as adults, their children and their children's children. I want to make sure everything is a little bit better for them than it was for me. I want to live a long life with my husband.

So, if that makes me a nerd, a dork, whatever. I will lift a great big glass of organic Chardonnay (from Sonoma, of course) and toast your Budweiser. At least when I'm 65, I'll only look 50.

P.S.-Please pray for Big Wayne.

Am I Nuts????

2009-05-28T18:25:00.003-04:00

All year long I have complained. I have moaned, groaned and begged Jesus to let me stay in bed for five more minutes. I have gone in early, stayed late, and stood, agape, at the front of my classroom taking in the desks. All 28 of them.

I had almost 30 children in my 4th grade class this year. And we ain't talkin' the suburbs. We have stood toe-to-toe on issues like commas in a series, weekly multiplication tests, and who gets to use the new pencil sharpener.

We have gone round and round on who's turn it is to feed the fish (only 1 out of 4, that's 25%, made it through the year unscathed), who gets to be the energy saver and turn out the light, and whether or not they can be trusted to go run an errand for me by themselves.

I have graded placement tests, mountains of narrative and expository essays, middle of the year diagnostics, science projects, and end of the year exams.

I have waited for parents on parent- teacher conference night that never showed up.

I have prayed that some parents on parent-teacher conference night didn't show up.

I have given out Laffy Taffy for right answers, green "X's" for wrong ones, and crazy looks for strange ones (No, Bobby. Eight times six is not blue).

We have survived field trips, holiday parties, and charter busses (No, Bobby. We don't use the potty on the charter bus. Because I said so. Trust me.).

We learned about Ponce deLeon, adding and subtracting fractions with unlike denominators, and wondered if Desperaux would ever rescue the Princess Pea from the dungeon.

We dotted our "i's", crossed our "t's", played in refrigerator boxes at field day (Bobby, we don't try to implode the boxes. It is dangerous. Because I said so.), and sat through endless assemblies.

We complained when Ms. B. made us write forever...but hugged her tight when we all passed the FCAT Writes.

I have come home ragged, tired, and grouchy. I have said that I can not wait for Summer. 28 kids. I have said I felt like I ran a marathon.

So, why, when the last bus pulled out of the drive, and the last of Bobby's pencil shavings were swept, did I sit at my empty desk, look around at all the boxes packed, and treasures tucked away, and cry like a baby? Relief???? Or will I really miss the little buggers? I had decided on relief.

Fifteen minutes later, one of my students was knocking furiously at my door. I could see her smiling face through the little sliver of a window. I opened the door, and she shoved an envelope in my hand.

"Miss Beardsley!!! I ran all the way home to get your present! I forgot it!"

I opened it up, and inside was a handmade pink bracelet. She put it on my wrist and said, "Thank you, Miss B. I learned a lot this year. I will miss you."

She left and I decided, I am nuts. Because I will miss them, too.

Just Because I Love Them...

2009-05-15T20:52:00.002-04:00

My friend, Hollie, does a thing on her blog on Wendesdays, I have noticed, called Wordless Wednesdays. I love it. She just posts a picture. Well, I am always late. So here are mine. For those of you who know me, the first one is Lewis. He is 15!!!!!!!!!

Rookie Mistake

2009-05-11T21:24:00.003-04:00

After months of debate, my husband and I finally sat down yesterday and bit the bullet. We planned our summer vacation to Disney World. Let me rephrase that...I planned our summer vacation to Disney World.

Everything turned out so well. We are staying at a fabulous resort...we are there for the perfect amount of time. It all seemed to work out so well. We are even planning on giving the princess her very own princess make-over. Everything was working out, so, well, magically.

That is, until, she heard us discussing the trip. Cue scary horror flick music.

"Disney World? I see Mickey Mouse? Mommy, you come too? Please, Daddy? Mickey Mouse?"

Being the hip, current parents that we are, we wanted to be truthful. Honest. Keep our daughter, how do the kids say? In the know.

Well, ever since she heard our admission of, "Yes, darling. We ARE going to see Mickey. But, it isn't for awhile. You have sixty sleeps until we get there. Let us count to sixty," life turned out to be a little less Tinkerbell and a lot more Captain Hook.

We proceeded to count all of Mommy's fingers, Daddy's fingers, and Rylee's fingers. THEN, we counted Mommy's toes, Daddy's toes, and Rylee's toes. You would think the big picture would sink in. Toes plus fingers equal sixty. Girl, we aren't gracing Disney's doorsteps for quite awhile.

But alas, it didn't. Waking her up this morning was greeted with, "Mommmmmy....where is Mickey??? Mommmmmmmmyyyyyyyyy....I want my Mickey Mouse."

Moral of my blog...keep the magic a secret. Especially when they are three and a half (two at the ticket counter, wink, wink, nudge, nudge).

By the way...here is Rylee and Daddy making use of a Pottery Barn box...coincidentally the one our first wedding gift came in. We reduce, recycle, and REUSE. Take that for imagination, Mr. Toad's Wild Ride.

A Girl's Gotta Vent

2009-05-10T21:21:00.003-04:00

So, here we go. It's time to "get ugly" as my little mother would say. In honor of Mother's Day, for all of those absolutely fabulous mother's out there (my friend Hollie included) I have to get some things off of my chest...

I know that a true lady is not supposed to say anything ugly. We are supposed to smile and later on, "God Bless her heart! I can't believe she went out in that outfit!!" But, today, I am out and out saying it. I have had ENOUGH.

My precious darling, Rylee, is not my biological daughter. I even hate to type that, it just sounds cheap. However, it is the truth. She lives with my husband and I full time and we are her parents. She calls me Mommy. However, another lady and I use the term extremely loosely gave birth to her LONG before I was in the picture. She has had her issues and I have prayed for her and have walked the good walk. I have done everything in my power to remain on that higher road. I can't anymore.

Today, while on a social networking site that shall remain unnamed, she popped up as someone I "may know." Being the person I am, I clicked on her picture, and she had recently updated her status as "Can not give up, a piece of my heart is missing." Her mood was "disappointed." WELL...LA TI DA.

This woman, again, I use the term loosely, has not attempted to call or see her child in TWO WEEKS. She has only seen her daughter THREE times since September. She only calls when she knows my husband is at work. She has no car, no place to live, and a week ago I saw her walking down the road with an undesirable, LAUGHING. Ladies, I know I am supposed to be the classy one. I am thirty, ahem, years old. BUT, I need to get it out. She pays for no doctor's bills, day care bills, food, clothes, toys, etc. She is living it up. Free as a bird. If she was so "disappointed" she would be banging our door down and calling. But, she isn't. I could never imagine not having my girl. I would walk to the ends of the earth to get her back. Another demon has taken hold and the biological revels in the land of no job, no responsibility.

Don't get me wrong. I love this little girl coloring in front of me with all of my heart. She is so wonderful and I could never imagine loving and caring for any little precious thing more than I do for her. She is my sun, moon, and I have never been prouder of anyone. I call everyone in my contacts when she learns a new vocabulary word. So, today, on Mother's Day, let's give credit where credit is due. Not to the people hosting pity parties for themselves because they feel guilty. But to the true, strong women who are in the trenches, doing it on the daily. Time outs, baths, "NO MOMMY's", accidents, messy rooms, baked beans down the front of their new Lilly Pulitzer dresses, and spilled glasses of apple juice. Those are the ladies that deserve it...my own Mama is at the top of the list for putting up with a brat like me all of these years. Especially during college, when I thought I was Paris Hilton.

Happy Mother's Day Ladies...you are beautiful.

PS-Here is an image that I love...she learned to love her Louis from the master...

My Life is Officially A Julia Roberts Movie or...My Signature Colors are Blush and Bashful

2009-03-23T21:06:00.002-04:00

Well, it's here. My wedding is officially 12 days away and I have been ENGROSSED in preparations. I think that I have an ulcer. However, an ulcer might aid me in not having to wear Spanx under my dress. I'm just sayin'. Girdles aren't attractive on anyone. But I digress.

I knew the preparations would be hectic. However, it just seems so surreal. All of these rites of passage are passing me by and I feel like I am watching from a movie theater audience. Sittin' there munching on popcorn.

Let's see...wedding dress fittings, check. Complete with red face and all because I didn't have time to make-up. PS-I didn't know people took pictures of that. My halter dress was so big it looked like I had wings.

First Spray Tan Experience, check. I really thought it was eerie that a lady from the heavens was espousing directions to me while I stood in a spaceship, making poses like the family on the "School Crossing" sign. AND I STILL ended up with a line down my side. I was told to, "just, um, like, put make-up on it." Yes, dear. Make-up. If I had make-up that color, I wouldn't have needed a melted Crayola shower to begin with. I am also a firm believer that there are some areas that God didn't mean to be tan.

Bridal shower, check. Who invented this anyway? It sounds so great...mimosas, presents, women only, Ya-Ya! However, tipsy from the mimosas, trying to introduce your mother to your friends with similar names and occupations makes for some awkward silences. Also, while it was beautiful, fabulous, and completely generous, sitting in front of everyone opening presents...well, my teacher side wanted to tell everyone to stop talking, sit up straight, and put there eyes on me. It took everything I had not to snap at my bridesmaids when they got too giggly. Holding up hot pink lingere in front of your mother? Not so much fun, I discovered.

Bachelorette Party, check. Definitely fun, but have you all ever noticed that organized fun that involves head gear usually doesn't turn out that way? I'm just sayin'....

Waiting on passports to come in with baited breath...lets just not go there.

Don't get me wrong. I have THE BEST friends in the world. Who else would throw you the bridal shower of your dreams or wander around downtown Orlando with you for 30 minutes at 2AM completely lost? My little bridesmaid soldiers, that's who. But through all of these experiences, I've felt like I'm watching them happen to someone else. Except for the presents that come every day and are waiting in my car port when I get home. Those definitley feel like they are happening to me. Haha.

Anyway, I love my fiance' so much and I can't wait to be his wife, but no matter how much I thought I would love this, wedding planning is totally for the birds. Maybe that is a good sign. Maybe that means I'm in love with the person, not the wedding. Which will be Key West fabulous. After all, my signature colors are blush and lime green, darling.

I Am Officially a Big Girl.

2008-10-21T20:31:00.006-04:00

I traded my Mercedes for an SUV this week. I did it. I hate to sound shallow, but it tugged at me a little bit. But I put the safety of my family before looking cool while crawling through the line at Starbucks. As heart-wrenching as it was, it made me think of all the things that define you as an adult. Is it the music you listen to? But I still crank my Jay-Z and Rhi-Rhi and sing at strangers on I-95...do mature people do that? Is it the political and current events journals you subscribe to? Cuz I still get hypnotized in the grocery line by a glossy US Weekly cover...who doesn't? Is it the conversations you have with your adult friends? Because my friends and I straight up talk about Britney's weight fluctuations. Is it the books you read? Are you there Vodka? It's Me...Chelsea is currently on my nightstand. Discuss. Is it the furniture you have? Brian soooo has a foosball table where our formal dining area should be.

So, how do you know? Do you wake up one day and have it all click? I think that it's in the choices you make. No, work friend, I will not go have margaritas after school, Day Care closes at 6.

All kidding aside, I think when I realized I had become an adult was when I realized myself and Brian were currently all she had. We were the ones making the decisions. We were the ones shaping how her life would be. Scary, yes. But, so much fun.

We went pumpkin hunting last Sunday; ironically, just like my friend Hollie did recently. I looked at her pictures and there is one of her beautiful girl that looks almost identical to one we took of Rylee. It made me think back to the silly girls Hollie and I were in college. We ran around without a care in the world, I'm sure, praying to never get old. Now, looking at those girls, it actually feels good. We have come a long way from calling HSN late into the night, demanding diamondique bracelets. We are now ahem...mature.

So, in that vain, here is my most recent favorite picture of the precious doll that is Rylee. We almost needed pull-ups ourselves when she walked too close to the TV. Much better than a C-Class...but still one day...

She's phoning back to the mother ship.

Ugh. I am SO over pumpkins.

This is Why I Love Them...

2008-10-15T19:38:00.004-04:00

Where's Rylee?
Love how Daddy is oblivious
to Rylee's lack of air supply......

Lindsay, Paris, Miley...move

over, there is a new fashionista in town...

her flair for the dramatic is overwhelming...

Brian on a bicycle built for two...........

You've still got it, honey

There's a Monkey in Time-Out

2008-10-15T19:14:00.004-04:00

Ummm...how hilarious is this? Last Sunday, Brian and I decided to make a day of it and go get Rylee's Halloween costume. We had planned to go and try them on at a few places and then go to Coldstone Creamery for a nice little night cap. Well, we hit up Old Navy and found the most rib-splitting costumes. I mean, how can you resist a two-year-old dressed like a skunk? Kind of ironic...considering what they already produce down there. We proceeded to pick out a few and all three of us on Team Neener went to the dressing room, generating looks from every Community College student with a headset who was doing "dressing room recovery."

Well, Brian and I could not stop laughing and you could probably hear our giggles ringing from the exposed warehouse rafters. The bellies on the costumes poked waaaaaay out and she looked like a Hershey's Kiss in every single outfit and the princess decided on the monkey ensemble complete with banana in her pocket. Yes, by the way, she is happy to see you. Well, she was as happy as a clam with her new purchase and, as promised, we had ice cream and sprinkles and went on to our home.

Of course, when we got home, Daddy and I whipped out our cameras and forced the little darling into her outfit for a fashion photoshoot. Rylee was not happy with us. It was all well and good until she tried to kick her Daddy, so then, we had to march right into time-out. People, you haven't lived until you have seen your two-year-old sitting in a red crayon themed time-out chair, kicking her bed, mitts folded, bottom-lip out, in a straight up monkey get up. I kept having to leave the room and laugh into a pillow. Imagine those big paw/feet trying to kick her bed and those little hands/mittens crossed over her chest in a huff.

Costume complete with fake banana from Old Navy: $15

Ice Cream for the Fam at Coldstone: $17

Trying to discipline a primate without peeing your pants: Priceless.

What Ever Happened?

2008-10-05T01:45:00.005-04:00

OK girls, tonight I could not sleep and was blessed with my dear Carrie Bradshaw and friends on my television set. My absolute favorite all time show...need I mention it? Is it trite at this point? But, in my early, mid, even late twenties, my girlfriends and I embodied this. They were my end all be all. Now, with families, boyfriends in law school, and jobs that take us here and there, I feel like I have lost it. Is this normal? I will not stand for it. No matter what "real life" is supposed to be.

Don't get me wrong. Brian is my best friend. We have a wonderful time together. But, girls need girls. No, not in the Girls Gone Wild way. Last weekend I cried while Brian was at a bachelor party. Real tears. Not because I was worried about strippers on his lap. Because I missed MY friends and wanted to be with them.

As women, I think we need to take a stand. So many of us watched this show, went to the movie, drank the ubiquitous Cosmos, and vowed to always be BFF's. Now, let's put our money where our mouth is. Our sanity depends on laughter, memories, and most importantly, friendship.

PS-This is coming from a true Charlotte, who also thinks carnations are the filler flowers.

Just When...

2008-10-01T20:41:00.004-04:00

Just when I thought I was having a yucky day, little things like this make me laugh. Don't hate, she is just trying to be like her Mo. Life has a funny way of not letting things stay too serious for too long. It's like when my principal called us in to tell us we were losing a fourth grade teacher and her class would be dispersed among all of ours. Oh, I freaked. I cried. I complained. I got angry. For all of you teachers out there...I was irate, irritable, morose AND melancholy. But, I had to make a decision. I realized that I had the choice. I could choose to be angry, irate, blah, blah, blah. OR, I could choose to put on my big girl panties and realize that now, I would have 6 really awesome kids to welcome into the fold. Not only would I have six more faces peeking through my window waaaaaaay to early in the a.m., but I would also have six more voices to hear laugh when crazy Ms. B. is acting silly again. Yes, it is a bit rank on PE days, it takes us forever to take a bathroom break (I am so mean, I race the boys vs. the girls now), and our check out line in the Media Center wraps around the first grade fiction section, but hey, we are a family.

I came to realize that sometimes I can focus on what I think I can't do rather than jumping in and just getting my toes wet. Take Rylee up there for example. I thought I would never be a mother. No way, no how. I wasn't birthin' no babies. And now, she is here, in my life and I smile from ear to ear when I see her Daddy pulling into the driveway with her in the backseat, waving packets of crackers (I never knew they were baby crack) and her Dora the Explorer blanket.

I think this epiphany (Ooohhh if I do say so myself) hit me the other day when I was telling my new friend Jody my life story of late. She looked at me, I think a little with disbelief, and was shocked with how well adjusted I am (ahem, she is only 23...gag). I was a little impressed with myself, but I thought, hmmm...I made the choice. I could have wallowed in it, but I moved on and looked for greener pastures. And here they are. Both with goofy grins, but only one with oversized sunglasses on her face. Payless by the way. I KNOW! I couldn't believe it either.

Wedding Dress Blues...

2008-09-30T20:01:00.001-04:00

This is my wedding dress. This, of course, is not me in it. My eyes are not that cat-like and I don't have those sweet boxes to hold me up all day. This has been a source of contention with me lately. I began my search one afternoon when Brian was working. I had cleaned all I could, watched everything on my DVR, and everything at my place of worship, Target, had been picked through. I decided it was time to begin my quest for my wedding dress. Now, I know what you are thinking. "Girl, where was your mother? Where was your sister, best friend, and all of your closest cousins?" Well, this is me. I have to do everything the moment I think of it, much like my future step-daughter. She gets a fee pass, though. She is two. I, on the other hand, get stiffed. How you ask? Just wait. This is straight up out of People's Court.

After being ignored at one shop, and crying in the car to my Mama, I almost gave up the fight. In a fit of tears (and in the Super Target's parking lot...makes me feel safe) I Googled wedding dress shops in the area. Fighting back the ugly cry, I dialed up the first one on the list. The lady's voice on the other end was like honey. "Sweetie, are you crying? You get here right now." Like one of my fourth graders after being caught running in the bus loop, I tucked my tail and obeyed. Within minutes my car was parking in front of this quaint boutique. It was the epitome of precious. Wood floors, crystal chandeleir. You could even make appointments and you and all your besties could shut the store down and have yourselves a little sip and try on dresses. To put it bluntly, dears, I was in love. VA heaven. I gazed at the perfect, white wedding dresses all lined up on the wall, and like a jilted ex-boyfriend at a bar, I advised the shop girl to "Keep 'em coming." I eventually met up with this little number above. The other wedding shop was a distant memory. I fell in love... it was perfect for my beach wedding. I called my mother, vowed to send her pictures, and paid the deposit, which was half of the dress.

Now, I never have pretended to be stereotypical. Yes, I was in a sorority. Yes, dears, I wore ribbons in my hair. Ahem, gag, not my best fashion moment. BUT, I never laid awake at night with stars in my eyes and dreamt of my wedding. I was too busy chasing after my friend's earrings and lost black olives (wink, wink, nudge, Hollie). So, you must understand that when I ordered the dress in February, I got lost in teaching, my family, and just life. However, whenever I had the chance I would show off my dress. Not to mention the beAUtiful shoes and earrings I also purchased while in my "I love this boutique can I move in?" haze.

Well, imagine my surprise the weekend after Labor Day when my friend, Marissa called to tell me that the boutique had CLOSED DOWN! Yes. You heard it. As in, snuck-out-in-the-middle-of-the-night-so-we-don't-get-evicted closed down. As in, never-ordered-my-dress-and-took-off-with-my-deposit closed down. I almost vomited all over my darling little Blackberry that had led me there. Fortuneately, my super-hero friend, Amanda, had an aunt who owns a dress shop around the corner and she hooked me up in no time...veil and a free week of tanning to boot.

Now, she was the sweetest lady. I mean, she gave me the low-down on everyone in the wedding biz. I felt so important and "in-the-know". I thought she would ask me to be her partner and we would start our own reality wedding show on Lifetime. Of course, I would be front and center, and tearily, I would relay of how we met...all because of the dress. Well, sometime during this little love fest, she put the contract down on the counter in front of me. Wha? Contract? Signing over the TV rights so soon? Then, she lays it on. "Now this here says in order to get the size you want, you're going to have to lose three inches from your waist. It shouldn't be too hard." Crash. That was me falling back down to Humble Town.

Now, I ask you, shouldn't this be the sweetest, most momentous purchase in your life? It's things like this that let me know that my life will never be normal. Oh well...I should have known something was up in that first shop. As soon as we walked in, Rylee said, "Eww, Mo. Stinky." Out of the mouths of babes.

PS-Here are my earrings and shoes. If you are like me, you stopped reading at that point and just wanted to know what they looked like.

Under the Influence...

2008-09-29T19:16:00.000-04:00

So, I have been persuaded, at the urging of my friend Hollie, to start this blog. After relaying to her my many adventures lately, she told me that this might be a good idea. So thank you, Hollie. I was also told, in the same day, that I should write a book chronicling all of my ups and downs. But, a memoir at 29 seemed a little pretentious, so here I am. I am currently planning my wedding to a fetching man who has a two-almost-three year old. I never thought I wanted to have children, but here I am, as happy as can be. The little Rylee-boogie is a laugh a minute and she lights up my day, especially when she is picking her nose and screaming at our cat, Daisy, who she refuses to call anything but, "Kitty-Cat". Her Daddy is pretty cute, too.

I am a fourth-grade teacher with 26 students (is that legal?) and each day, if we get through Reading, Writing, Math, and Lunch without blood, tears, or any other bodily fluid, we are pretty alright. They are my family away from home and no one can tell a knock-knock joke with such feeling like a ten-year old.

The Florida Gators and I are continuing our tumultuous relationship. They tend to lead me on and get me all excited with a promising future, and then, just like that, they break my heart. I tend to think I will keep going back, though. They are sure snazzy dressers.

I am just a small-town girl trying to be an adult. I have come to the conclusion that I can no longer spend my paychecks on Louis purses and Gucci shoes. Target, Old Navy, and Forever 21 have replaced my Sak's, Nordstrom's, and Neiman's. Tear. However, the rewards that I get from building my home, new family, and life are far greater than the ooohs and aaahhs I recieved for my latest Nanette LePore ensemble. Ohhh welll...there is still the chance to become independently wealthy....someone did tell Brian that he had the bone-structure of an actor. Hmmmm...I wonder if William Morris is hiring....