On The Shelf

A Rare Find

Breakfast this morning found us discussing rare items - Ty Cobb's rookie card, a first edition of The Hobbit.

"Just think," Tim imagined, "if you found an original copy of the Gospel of Mark."

I started talking about the shepherd boys who threw stones into a cave outside of Jersualem. When a rock made a clinking sound, they went into explore and found the Dead Sea Scrolls, manuscripts dating back to 150 B.C.. The story has always fascinated me.

We moved on to King Tut's tomb, discovered only a hundred years ago. I was going on and on, but couldn't remember the archeologist's first name.

"You know, Johnson, the English guy who discovered King Tut's tomb."

"Johnson?" Kolbe jumped in with a tone of utter incredulity, a tone that screamed "Has my mother the former history teacher done lost her mind?"

"Johnson! Don't you mean Howard Carter?" my little know-it-all continued. "Howard Carter discovered King Tut's tomb."

Suddenly the cobwebs cleared, and I remembered that Howard Carter was in fact the very fellow. And then I laughed until I cried.

"Mom, you're not even smarter than a second grader," Tim rejoined ever-so-kindly.

The mind, what a terrible thing to lose.

In Focus

I came across a packing list I jotted down a few days before Ainsley's birth. It brought back the awesome anticipation of late pregnancy. I remember lying on the couch watching episode after episode of Monk and timing my contractions. I have a small notebook full of jottings like this: 7:42 7:56 8:01 8:05 8:17. I'd have a four minute interval ... and then a ten minute one.

At the top of the packing list is an item that has become indispensable for this forty-something mother: reading glasses.

I was 43 when our precious John arrived. I looked down as the nurse handed me our 8 pound, 10 ounce bundle of John, and I saw ... a blurry, indistinct mass. Glasses were located and suddenly those gorgeous brown eyes came into sharp focus.

My friend and I were laughing about growing older. Generally speaking I don't lament the passing years. Sleepless nights and stomach bugs aside, I love my life. I wouldn't turn back the clock, and I wouldn't press fast forward either. If John's third birthday brings a gradual change to some of his more challenging behavior, well, great, but having two older sons has taught me to smell the roses of today because they are fleeting.

Turning forty was liberating. I found that I was much more accepting of myself, flaws and all. I have always been very critical of my figure, but when I turned forty, I found myself thinking, "Well, so you're a little flabby, and a little wrinkly, and a little gray. You're forty! You're supposed to be all those things."

Then my eyes started to go. Now, I freely admit that I am spoiled in this area. I have had perfect vision all my life. It seemed that overnight I adopted my Mother's T.V. Guide viewing stance - stretch your arms as far as they'll go and then squint!

Now my arms are too darn short and the squint just isn't cutting it. I have glasses - readers to use the correct term - all over the house.

The humbling part comes when I leave the house thinking I look great only to glance in the rear view mirror under the unforgiving Georgia sun and discover the lipstick I thought was wine is actually pink and that my eyebrows are a veritable hundred acre wood. I told my friend that I want that filter ABC puts on Diane Sawyer. Soft and hazy - that's the ticket!

I confess that I once passed judgment on women who had their eyebrows done. Suffice it to say I have met my Waterloo in this regard. A week or two ago I missed an appointment to have a friend wax the old brows and was forced to attempt the job myself. This procedure required a magnifying mirror, a flashlight, tweezers and, of course, my readers. This is a juggling feat I doubt the Barnum and Bailey Circus could match. Well worth shelling out $10 to have someone else do it right.

Readers - they are now at the top of every packing list.

Wee Hours?

My friend Patti wondered about the 3:00 a.m. time stamps on my posts. Am I up writing this blog in the middle of the night? Don't be silly! I'm way too busy cleaning up vomit and soothing my teething baby.

While John has a lingering symptom or two, the worst of the stomach bug has passed (literally and figuratively). Everyone is back at school and work.

Small Successes

Danielle Bean encourages mothers to encourage each other. I would love to hear about your small successes. Here's a report from our home:

1. The hubster eradicated a tenacious computer virus. Hours and hours and hours of work.

2. Meanwhile John is the latest to battle a virus of the stomach variety. It began with Kolbe and an eventful ride in the van. My small success has been shampooing and febreezing ad nauseum (I couldn't resist!). Hours and hours and hours of work.

3. On the couponing front, I have had one great success getting about $80 worth of products for $30. The glitch, however, is that I feel I can't buy anything that isn't an amazing deal. Reality tells me that if we need bread, I had best not delay.

Ami asked for pointers. I would suggest staring out by learning the rewards program at one pharmacy. For the whole concept, check out Southernsavers.com. Warning: It's a bit overwhelming!

We So Totally Rock

John is sitting at the table and happy to have his big brothers back.

"Tim rock!" John begins. "Kolbe rock! Ainsey rock! The pizza rock! Mama rock!"

Our subjects may not agree with our verbs, but we rock!

Jedi Mind Tricks

Tim, waving his hand in an Obi-like fashion: You do not need the dishes done. These are not the kids you are looking for.