Pure Romance = Pure Fun

A couple of days ago I hosted the most entertaining party I have ever had at my house. Ever! There were five of us- all ladies around 30 years old- and a Pure Romance consultant. I signed up to host a party after visiting the Women's Expo back in April. The consultant, Nancy, told me that her presentation would last about an hour and would be educational. She also insisted there be no men or children in the house during said presentation. My friends and I were pretty excited- one of us had been to a Passion Party, and another had been to a Pure Romance party a while back- and VERY curious about the education we would experience (we are all teachers, after all). Besides getting to sample lotions/oils that actually tasted good (I was skeptical until the party), one friend picked up a book about 101 different positions- amazing, since between the five of us, we could only think of five or six without the book's help. Wow! There was a lot of laughing, but also a lot of educational information! So much that I still haven't yet shared it all with George, who was amused by the fact that I was having what he called a "porn party." I think I surprised myself too...but so glad I did! Though my girlfriends and I can be quite fun, I think Nancy is the reason the party was such a success. Anyone interested should take a look at her website: www.nancywharton.pureromance.com.

P-O-T-T-Y!

My son, Alexander, is 42 months old. For the last two weeks or so, he has been POTTY TRAINED (during the day- at night we are still using Pull-Ups because my son sleeps like me, and that means that the house could burn down and he probably wouldn’t notice. The house alarm went off once and my dear son didn’t even move!). I have had pretty much NO life, as I have been focused on making this potty business happen.Now I am trying to figure out how to transition from this little potty to the big, “grown up” potty. Needless to say, Alex will NOT use the potty if we are out in public. He didn’t start refusing until George took him to the restroom in Home Depot and the automatic toilet flushed while he was on it, scaring Alex to death. He has only used the “grown up” potty once, at his doctor’s office, and that’s only because I dragged him to the bathroom three times and held him up in front of the toilet. His doctor (I just love her!) did share with me that most of the kiddos she sees who are Alex’s age are not potty trained. I was surprised. That means that a lot of people lie about whether their kids are or not and/or I have only run into the mothers of overachievers!

I have purchased a portable potty that I will make Alex start using all the time, and maybe I’ll be able to go somewhere for more than an hour because he’ll actually use the porta-potty. I’m not getting my hopes up, though. After all, we’ve been working on potty training since Alex was two...so based on that timeline, he should be using the “grown up” potty by the time he starts kindergarten!

For those who are anxiously waiting for this magical potty use to begin (really, I can’t think of anything more exciting that he’s done since he started walking!), check out http://www.3daypottytraining.com. At first I balked at the idea of paying for the guide, but it turned out to be the straw that broke the camel’s back!

Since the last time I wrote....

I've been sick. Not the whole time, but significantly most of the time. In fact, I'm not at work right now because I have strep throat AGAIN! (I'm reconsidering my career as an educator due to the health risks.)

 

I ended up not going to my eleventh high school reunion for totally unbelievable and random reasons. As I was getting dressed (I'd purchased a new skirt to wear a week before), I twirled around in front of the mirror and something caught my eye: the round ink tag was still on the bottom of the skirt! George laughed at me and offered to take it (the tag, naturally) off, but seeing as how that could have ruined my skirt (and hurt him, of course), I declined his offer. I frantically searched for the receipt, but of course, it was gone. Luckily, I still had the price tag with the "must be present for return" sticker on it. I called Macy's (not a very helpful customer service line, by the way) and was told that if I brought in the skirt, its price tag, and the credit card on which I made the purchase, they could take off the ink tag for me. Well, at this point it was 6:50 (and the reunion was supposed to start at 7 pm).

 

My husband, still laughing, tried to calm me down (at this point I was pretty riled up), and convinced me that the aforementioned skirt could be replaced by another skirt, or even a pair of pants. I reluctantly changed to a pair of slacks.  By the time we made it outside to get into our truck, Alex decided that he wanted to stay at home. So we had to coax him back outside. It took a lot of promises to go to the train park and a couple chocolate chip cookies (he's obsessed with trains and chocolate, or pretty much anything sweet).

 

That's when I spotted two baby birds, huddled in the rock, right next to our driveway. It had been windy, so we figured they'd been blown out of their nest, which likely was in the tree right next to our driveway. George, who grew up on a farm and is known as the "Animal Whisperer" at work, was adamant about helping them to survive. In the past, we've taken found birds to the Wildlife Rescue, but seeing as how it was a Saturday night, I doubted they'd be open. So as I was seriously considering letting the poor birds fend for themselves (something I'm sorry to admit), my husband got gloves and a shoebox out of the garage, scooped them up and ordered me to call 411 for the number of the Wildlife Rescue. We sat in the truck for about 15 minutes as I waited for the 411 operator to tell me that she couldn't find a listing, and then George decided to put the box back up in the tree to protect the birds from coyotes and cats (I've never seen a cat in our neighborhood, and haven't seen a coyote since they started building houses in the desert that used to be across the street a year ago- but this was not the time to engage in a debate with George).

 

By then, it was almost 7:30 pm. My husband, satisfied that he'd done all he could for the birds, smiled over at me and asked if I still want to go to the reunion. I'm one of those who believes in signs from God, and at this point I was not sure what God was trying to tell me, but I said okay, and we headed off to my parents' house to drop off Alex. When we got there, my parents were watching a not-appropriate-for-a-three-year-old movie, and when I asked that they put in a Dora the Explorer DVD instead, my father and mother got into an argument and I was tempted to take my son and run.

 

Finally, at about 7:50 pm, everyone calmed down and my son settled in to watch his much-loved Dora. George and I left my parents' house and got in the truck to go to the reunion. We were almost there when we saw a DPS officer who'd pulled over two cars. At that point, I turned to my husband and suggested we just go to dinner somewhere nice, since we were both dressed up. He obliged, and we had a nice, quiet dinner, after which we picked up my son and went home.

 

A week later, the baby birds grew up (their parents came each day and fed them) and looked like adult birds, and then they flew away.

 

So I don't really know how the reunion went. But I guess I'm thrilled that we saved the lives of two birds who otherwise wouldn't have survived because of high winds, coyotes, and/or cats.

 

J

Yikes!

My 11th high school reunion is on April 26th. The fact that it's the 11th year and not the 10th speaks volumes about what type of event it may very well be and what sort of group is hosting it (at least, in my opinion). The Class of '97 never was good about this sort of thing- we were probably the only Senior Class in the history of Greenway High School Homecomings to lose the Homecoming Float competition four years in a row....to the class behind us, which also happens to be my overachieving sister's Class.

I have until this Wednesday to decide if I want to go to the aforementioned celebration. George has already ageed to go with me as my "trophy husband" (thoughtful, isn't he?) and I have an idea what I might wear. But I have mixed feelings about going. First, I have kept in touch with everyone I care about from my high school days (for the most part). If I go to the reunion, my luck dictates that I will run into people who I have been grateful to be away from for the past 11 years. Like my stalker (whose name escapes me), to whom Brent Simmons unwittingly gave my phone number during Senior year (though it's possible that he'll be unable to attend because he may or may not be incarcerated). Second, those I haven't kept in touch with happen to have MySpace pages, so I can at least talk to them a little. And there's nothing wrong with a little distance to keep things friendly. Third, I weigh about 80 lbs. more than I did when I graduated from high school, which doesn't matter to me as much as I thought it would, but I know I will notice if someone appears to be 80 lbs. heavier. I won't judge them for being heavier, but I do know that I will notice (and comment to George) if they don't look good or happy. I'm not so sure that I look so good, and these days I don't look too happy. And I'm certainly not as cute and young as I was (though my homeopathic doctor told me last week that I'm looking radiant- George thought he was hitting on me, which makes his compliment questionable and slightly less valid). Finally, I was such a go-getter in high school (though it was at the expense of my sanity, well-being, and sense of calm...NO ONE knew about my home life or my depression). I was the prom queen my senior year (that year we were the Duke and Duchess) and was nominated for homecoming queen. I sang the National Anthem at my graduation. I was the Rotary Student of the Year. I could go on and on to point out everything I used to be that I am not any longer. I was amazing and competitive, and I don't feel like much of either any more. These days, my grandest achievements are my son, but I can no longer attribute my body size to baby weight, plus his being adorable is really none of my doing, as I have no control over my genetics; my 8 year marriage that has, quite frankly, seen better days; and my ability to not hide under the covers or in my closet on a bad day. I actually avoid the types of things on which I thrived in high school (and even college). My life is sooooooo different from what it was, and thankfully so. Where it was once frenzied and complex, it is now simple and blessedly uneventful. If I was sure that the reunion won't be a "who's done the most amazing things?" contest, I would go in a heartbeat.

In my mind, a little voice is pointing out that all of what I've mentioned above could be true for other reunion attendees. But unless I can convince myself that 11 years has mellowed everyone out, I likely won't be going. Then again, no one is so on top of it that this happened last year, like it should have, so maybe there's hope!