My eldest son turned 10 a bit ago. My mother sent him some birthday money and he wanted. . . POKEMON CARDS. I said we'd go out on a date so we did. We were at one store, the one that I went to on Christmas Eve and they had only what I'd bought him and his brothers. We started to leave and someone came up to me in outside the store and told me of another place to get them where they were $11 instead of $14. I don't mind spending a little extra as the place we were at was nice and Pokemon was a side thing for her to keep the kids away from her antiques! Still, we went to the other place and it was a mecca of collectibles. My son looked at EVERYTHING and stuck to his Pokemon cards. Still, he said, "I wonder what I will collect when I am 15." That was cute-- he knows he will get older and move on to other things.
We went for coffee and they also serve ice cream. I ordered sorbet (I am still sick and a fruit sorbet feels good on my throat) and tea, and he got ice cream. He decided that he wanted hot chocolate, too. He paused as we were talking and said, "You know, there is really no other way to eat ice cream. You have to have it with something hot to drink, even in the summer."
My husband thinks I am strange for eating ice cream with a hot cup of tea, even in the summer and so did Guy Smiley. My husband says that son is artistic and dances to the beat of his own drummer, so the ice cream and hot beverage much be part of the artistic gene. As we ate my son complained about everyone and everything. I used to be put off by this with the kids but I think it's a stage & age thing. I am beginning to get better at listening. How do the first few kids come out OK when we have to learn with the older ones? Why aren't the younger ones perfect?
We went to my favorite clothing store and he actually shopped with me. One of my friends owns the place and she wanted me to try of some new things and I was happy to oblige her. Guy got there and found a "secret stair case." It's not really secret-- she just curtains it off and it's behind something. He would go up there and perch and look into the mall and not be seen and then come down when she told him to see my outfit. We called him Owl Guy.
The clothes were great but I am gaining weight big time. A pooch on my abdomen, pouching hips. Susan saw me start to obsess, "It's nothing that control top pantyhose can't fix and I'd better not hear you complain. You've had nine children and you earned those imperfections!"
I said I was starting a dance class to fix them and she was adamant. "Do not dance to loose weight. Dance because you love to dance and ignore the pounds coming off and they will stay off." Oh-- I have hated women who obsess over their weight and she said I was starting to turn into one of them. I won't do that twice with her-- she is very nice but she was blunt about her disdain for my comments about myself! "Your sparkling conversation and wit will be crushed by obsessing over your weight and discussing your diet. Don't be a woman who does that."
My own birthdays mean little to me-- 20 was hard for some reason. My children getting older? THAT makes me feel old. When Tiger turned 18 last year I was blue. Guy turned 10-- I was pregnant with him when I married my husband and moved into our house. He was born a few months later. He is a marker. Ten years old! The time has flown. In a few days I will be 39. Right after that another son will turn eight, then right after that, the eight year old will turn 9. They like to discuss their ages all the time.
The cold is still here. This stuff in my throat-- ugh, I thought I would drown last night. I hope we are all over it before school resumes.