On the eve of Mother's Day I feel the need to share what beautiful children I have - again. I didn't always think I could enjoy Mother's Day. After all, wasn't it dad who always gave the most beautiful gift? The flowers, the jewelry. Wasn't it dad who coordinated breakfast in bed? I think I was always afraid that my boys wouldn't grow an appreciation for me without an example, however I underestimated them. This year I am anxiously awaiting the little gifts they have made me in school. Whether it be a clay handprint or a jar covered in colored eggshells and macarroni, I can now fully appreciate them. I do have a preference though. I like things made with fingerpaint or clay. Why? Because they leave their fingerprints in them, and the proof of my children working so diligently to make something that will make mommy happy rocks me to tears every time. Please bear with me while I tell one of my favorite kiddo stories.
When my oldest was in kindergarten I asked what he had done in school that day. "I made your Mother's Day present," he answered proudly. In fake shock I answered, "Awww, that's supposed to be a surprise!" He looked at me with a little bit of fear and so I quickly answered, "That's ok. I don't know what it is." "It's a picture," he quickly answered.
The next Friday he jumped in the car proudly bearing his present with hand-drawn wrapping picture. "Here's your picture Mom!" he exclaimed. Once again I feigned surprise, "Ooops, that's a secret," quickly checked his seatbelt and started driving. We got to the store and I turned around in my seat only to find my little boy quietly sobbing alone in the back seat. The cute little game vanished as I pulled him into my lap and let him sob for a few minutes. Finding out what is wrong with 5 year olds is not always an easy task. "What's wrong babe?" was only answered with more tears. "Are you hurt?" "Are you mad?" "Are you sad?" A little nod. "Did I make you sad?" Another little nod. "Do you think I'm mad?" Yet another little nod followed by another heart rending sob. And then it struck me. "Do you think you messed up Mother's Day?" A cry of anguish from my little boy.
Try as I did to make him understand that he couldn't possibly mess up Mother's Day there didn't seem to be any way to console him. Luckily the gift had a card on it that wasn't wrapped. "Look, the card isn't wrapped. Can I read it?" A little nod. Inside was a fill in the blank form.
My mom is beautiful. She is as pretty as the ......sun.
My mom is so smart. She even knows......math.
On and on it went. By the time we were done I finally understood what I had done. That I hadn't realized my very grown up little boy was still a little boy who just wanted to show his mommy how much he loved her. So to hell with the day. "Can I open the present?" A more vigorous nod. Inside was a handmade cardboard frame. It had sticks and leaves and rocks glued all over it, and in the center was a picture of the most beautiful little boy. Of course I still have it. And now I understand why my mother still has the goofy things I made her. I no longer feel goofy wearing the clay necklaces I get on holidays. Instead I wear them to work with pride, hoping someone will ask me about the strand of beads on a string I wear.

 
So for all of you that have been disturbed by my comments section....I introduce REAL COMMENTS. Bear in mind. My initial hesitation is the fear that I will see (0) comments every day. So - use 'em or lose 'em folks. I have a very fragile ego.

 
There was a time in my life that I couldn't go to the movies. The boys were young and if they started to cry or fuss I had to take them out. This somehow ended up being a constant in the theater. A few years later they stopped crying and the problem was that they were an endless ball of energy. I was able to tame this problem with a giant tub of popcorn and a refillable soda. Then there was the magical point where they really just wanted to go to the movies. They have the attention span to sit through a full length feature and sit quietly in tune with the screen. They've gotten over that. They anticipate the movies. Mom, it's coming out on May 12th, can we go? They've read the books. They've watched the previews. They are primed. So we go into the theater and they are all a twitter. Mom, why is this happening? Oh yeah, he left the school in the last movie. I think it's hilarious, but I'm constantly shushing them. After all, people don't pay $12/seat to hear my boys' theory on the X-Men. However, they are intelligent conversations, and at least they aren't answering their cell phones during the movies or fighting in restaurants.

 
WEHEW!!!! I got a job! I got a job! I got a job!
Even better. I'm moving to Long Beach where I can have a social life.
Even better. I didn't have to take a paycut.
They love me and I like them.
Wehew! Do the party dance!

 
Have you ever tried to explain something to someone who doesn't know the basics? Like explaining to a six month old how to tie their shoe. It's fuckin' pointless. And why would a company hire someone with the comprehension level of a six month old to screen candidates for software capabilities. If you're not going to understand the answers, why even ask????? Kid, you're getting in my way. I want that job. So just SHUT UP and send the boss my resume. Fool.

 
I startled a skunk today. I guess it must have startled me more because I managed to get away, but I wasn't sure. Can a skunk smell himself or is it more like us laying a stinky one and then sneaking away? So I had to wonder, if I got sprayed would I smell it or would just the people around me be able to smell it?

 
I bought a card for my mom since it is going to be Mother's Day. My son wanted to sign it for me, so I told him to make something up. After lots of hmmming and hahing he wrote something and then wandered away. Nosy me has to read what he wrote. "#1 Grandma, thanks for making my mom so special."

 
I am an intelligent life form. I am! I am!
Recruiter: So have you submitted your resume anywhere else?
M: Yes.
R: Where?
M: Blank dumbfounded look caused by 4 days straight at the computer submitting resumes EVERYWHERE ON GOD'S GREEN EARTH

 
I've lost weight! Yes, I know, not too long ago I was complaining about having to wear my "fat clothes" but this is so not what I meant. Can what ever god is in charge of the way I look (because over here in the Evans household we believe in the greek mythology system) please give me my body mass back? My form fitting tank tops are too big - well except the XS ones that were mistakenly tagged as M's. My pants are too big. My shoes are too big! Ok, that's a slight exageration, but still. I just meant I needed to get in better shape. The fat needed to turn into muscle, not just disappear.

 
STANDARDS
I realize it's a hard concept to grasp. If you are married I don't want to date you. If you have a girlfriend I don't want to date you. If you recently broke up with said girlfriend or wife I don't want to date you. If you need drugs to remain mentally stable I don't want to date you. If - when I say I want a man who is stronger than me - you think I mean how much he can bench press, I don't want to date you. If "I have to get a babysiter" somehow translates to "Who should we invite to the wedding?" I don't want to date you. I realize I'm a complex girl, but really, shouldn't this be the easy part?
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