Dick Clark--he will be missed

Wow. Dick Clark died. I know he is one of the people who  made you ask, "Did he die--or was that Walter Matthau?" for the last ten years and who surprised you every year by making an appearance on New Year's Eve, prompting sympathetic words and tones (and head nods) while reminding others, "Oh--he looks so great--I thought he died" and "Oh--poor guy--he looks awful--I can't believe he is still doing this" and even, "Good for him for doing this--Ryan Seacrest and Jennie McCarthy can only take it so far--New Years IS Dick Clark!" And now he really died. Such a sad thing to hear.

Why is it that when we find out that celebrities actually died, we feel sad, yet for years up to the demise of that person we are perfectly comfortable talking about them like they already died? Confused? I don't blame you. Let me TRY to work this out in words--my brain is getting MUCH more difficult to translate these days. So I know that most of you have heard of the Dead Pool, right? People pick celebrities who they think will die and get a certain number of points each time that they are right. So essentially, YOU win if your celebrity loses. The thing about Dick Clark is, I am pretty sure that he was a popular pick given his last few debilitating years. That doesn't make it any less sad. The fact that he lived a long and blessed life--doesn't make it feel better. Death is sad for the living--it is plain and simple--and even though we don't "know" celebrities, we feel as if we do--especially an icon like Dick Clark. I've welcomed in more new years with him than I have with any other friend or family member.

One year, my husband, my college roommate and our friend (we will leave it at that because if I discuss how that other friend was an ex-boyfriend of mine who introduced me to my husband and a few years later started "dating" my college roommate, that would be weird and borderline incestuous, right?) had the hardest time trying to find something to do on New Year's Eve in Manassas, Virginia. All of the restaurants and bars were virtually empty--I guess everyone went to DC or Alexandria or somewhere fun that wasn't Manassas, Virginia for the night...anyway, we found ourselves at the pool hall with about seven others (including the busboy and bartender). There was a television on in the bar area, but no one was paying attention to it (except for me as I whined about the fact that WE should have gone to NYC to spend the new year with Dick Clark). Suddenly, all seven of the patrons started yelling, "Ten, nine, eight..." and we joined in to yell, "HAPPY NEW YEAR!", only when I looked at my watch it was only eleven fifty. Five minutes later, they counted down again. The third time was definitely the charm in this case and we all [finally] counted down to the new year with Dick Clark. I couldn't believe that we could just "call" it a new year much like you call first dibs on the ice cream or "call" shotgun in the car, but I decided that it was evidently a new thing  to randomly call "Happy New Year" whenever we want, and I decided to do it throughout that year. I remember how much FUN it was for everyone in my life when I would yell, "Happy New Year" in the middle of  giving an English test in May or while buying produce at the Farmer's Market in August. The only thing missing during these random periods was Dick Clark. I remember saying, "It's not New Year's without Dick Clark!" to which others replied, "Well, it's NOT New Year's...."

2013 will not be the same without Dick Clark counting us in, but I am pretty sure that he will be counting with us in spirit. The good news is, he will be brought to life every New Year's eve when we count down and think fondly of all the years he gave us.

YOUR side, MY side, and the TRUTH

Yesterday I was "applying" to write for different places and realized that I didn't know which samples of my writing I should send. I know that my blog writing style is in NO WAY appropriate for...well...REAL writing gigs, so it's kind of a trying task, one I usually leave to my husband, but that is only so helpful (until it is not helpful anymore)!

What I discovered is, I LOVE my new blog friends. Really. I read their blogs and think, "Wow--I am so lucky to KNOW these writers!" and "THAT is EXACTLY what I wanted to say! I wish I could write like THAT person!" Sometimes I even regret reading their posts because I am afraid that I WOULD HAVE written something similar and now can't for fear of plagiarizing. It's complicated being in my brain--I suggest you avoid it at all costs!

Anyway, my blog friends Perspective Parenting and I could have been mother of the year if... left such nice comments and REALLY made me feel good about myself (THANK YOU,LADIES!) and my husband...well, my husband left a comment because he thinks he is funny, but I REALLY want to know which ones are better than others. I am NOT fishing for compliments (though I DO love the ones I got!)--I just never know which posts I should choose to give people the impression that I am sometimes funny. Or informative. Or entertaining. Or NOT the crazy person I appear to be. You understand.

Some may find this vain--like I must be vain to even THINK that people would want to read what I have to say. Maybe it is, but I cannot believe that ANYONE would think that I am vain (is THAT vain?!). Of course, my mother indicated that SHE thought I was being vain when we had our first discussion about Words With Friends.

I had just started playing and had won my first fifteen games. I am NOT saying this to brag...I am saying it because it HAPPENED. I was telling my mother about an ongoing "chat" with my friend, Bill who accused me of cheating (and other things), but was HILARIOUS in his responses to me. I would think of a word and laugh before I played it because I knew he would hate me for it and would have some smartalecky (yeah--that's what I said) comment about it. The whole thing made me laugh and I was telling my mother (I KNOW you are probably reading this (ten years after I write it), but I am telling the story as I remember it, MOM!) about Bill and about the fact that I was afraid that people wouldn't want to play with me anymore. My mother could barely contain her eye roll as she told me that I just wasn't playing with the "RIGHT PEOPLE."

WITH THE RIGHT PEOPLE?! Now, I KNOW she meant it because she thought I was all full of myself and not because she thinks I'm a dumbass (I'm actually NOT so sure about THAT), but what does that say about the people I play against? If I'M a dumbass and I'M beating THEM, what does that make THEM? I am SO insulted--for them AND for me!

I of course called her on it and thought she would retract her statement (I'm not sure WHAT in our history made me think THAT), but she only reiterated what she had initially said (still so mean!) and mentioned the people she played with all over the world who have like six hundred point games. (Who is bragging NOW?!) I was DEFINITELY getting defensive at this point because she said this in a voice that indicated that I would NEVER be in such a high scoring game. The problem with this situation (and situations LIKE this one) is that no matter what I said I would sound whiny and juvenile and, yes, like a braggart, even  IF I just wanted to state the facts  (like I had SEVERAL games where we scored OVER EIGHT HUNDRED points) and let her know that I didn't always annihilate my friends...many of them really kept me on my toes with two of us playing over thirty points each play.  At this point it only sounded like I was trying to give credit to "the little people" so that I wouldn't LOOK LIKE a braggart. FRUSTRATING!

This brings me back to nine years ago when we built our second home. We didn't build our SECOND home. Our FIRST home was an adorable little "bungalow" in Warrenton, Virginia (NOW I guess I am bragging by calling it "adorable," but why is it that liking things in your life and stating what you believe to be fact is construed as "bragging"? I don't like it.) and we went all Trading Spaces on it (only no one traded anything and Paige and Ty and Hildy never made it to Sycamore Street in Warrenton, though we constantly planned out who we would trade with IF we got on the show. We even got the application at one point, but anyone who knows us knows that getting the application is about as far as we get on ANYTHING. Luckily we didn't need to go through an application process to have the three maniacs. THEN you would get back the twenty minutes you just lost reading this. Hmmm...), it looked FANTASTIC (yes, I know--BRAGGART)! We only lived there a year and were able to sell it for significantly more than what we paid for it--because of the market at the time and because of what we did to it.

Which brings me to the ONLY house we built, but the SECOND house we owned. Though I don't really like to use the word "owned" considering we paid money to the bank every month that we lived there. OWNING would indicate that we DIDN'T need to pay anyone to live there. Let's say that it was the second house we didn't rent. THAT isn't a mouthful or anything. Rolls RIGHT off the tongue...

So, my husband got this amazing promotion (and worked for these AMAZING people) which brought us to Fredericksburg, Virginia so that he could run an office there. Because of the promotion and the money we made off of our first house, we were able to build our "dream" home and (bragging alert) it was beautiful. Almost TOO beautiful. People treated us differently--assumed we were snobs. Even some of our friends who knew us BEFORE the fancy house treated us differently. Friends from college stayed with us and called it "The MANS" because they joked that it was like a mansion. We filled it with nice things and nice furniture--most of which we got at Marshalls or The Maxx (T.J. Maxx) and Kirklands--stores with discounted decor. We have NEVER gotten along as well as we did when we built and decorated that house, which is weird because you hear all the time about how husbands and wives fight about those things. We had the same idea of everything we wanted and it turned out great. (NOT bragging. I'll post pictures. Yeah right...'cause I am SO GREAT at posting pictures...)

Stay with me--there IS a point to this line of questioning--or answering. Where was I? Oh yeah--so neighbors would come over and introduce themselves, telling us that they had walked through our home as it was being built (which is kind of funny since WE weren't allowed to walk through it as it was being built!) and wondering what the owners would be like. Imagine their disappointment when they met us!

It's funny because so many people tried to make us into the people who they THOUGHT we would be by looking at our home, but we were still...us. Sure, the house was ENORMOUS and OH-SO-MUCH cleaner then, but we moved in when I was pregnant with Brayden. Although the house was huge, it wasn't too hard to keep up with it since it was only the two (and a half--then three) of us. As I had more babies, it became more difficult. Actually, after my first, my husband's "Thank you for giving birth to my baby" gift was to have someone come in to clean. SO. GREAT. Even better than "SO.GREAT," but I am tired and cannot come up with stronger words. Just know that I think longingly of that time every time I step on an old piece of oatmeal or a defrosted blueberry. *sigh*

SO...there is oh-so-much for me to talk about here, but I need to bring it back to my mother (I am QUITE certain she is THRILLED about THAT information!). She was one of the first people to stay with us in the new home and (naturally) I wanted to impress her. It's funny--in college, my friend Jen shared something her mother used to say, "There are THREE sides to every story: YOUR side, MY side, and THE TRUTH."  I never forgot this and lived by it. When I look back on my mother's visit, I am giving you MY side and I realize now that  HER side is probably very different. As I was trying to impress her, SHE was thinking I was bragging, which I find so weird because anyone who knew (or knows) anything about me knows that I am one of the most insecure people you could ever meet (which usually is the reason for bragging, I know, but I am completely ANTIbragging--I swear!). I've DEFINITELY been working on this and think I give the opposite impression now, but that is mostly because I am too tired for the garbage. I try to just say what I think and feel and am unable to sugar coat or think of the consequences anymore. I'm tired.

Okay...so my mother and I are driving around Fredericksburg and there is a cute little rambler for sale. I say, "Oh--that's a cute house!" to which  my mother responds, "Oh, Nika--don't be a snob!"  WHAT?! Don't be a snob?! I sincerely meant that it was a cute house and wasn't even THINKING about MY home at this point, but my mother, after staying in "The MANS" assumed I had become a snob and a braggart and couldn't possible LIKE the house I pointed out to her. So. Sad. For ME because that is most certainly NOT the impression I wanted to give and for HER because how horrifying would it be to actually think that you raised a SNOB?! Slob, okay, but SNOB...? NEVER!

Which brings me to now. I think that most people read my self-deprecating words and know that I simply say what is on my mind and I'm not really too sure about myself and I would THINK that my mother would know that she didn't raise ANY of us to be full of ourselves, but she obviously forgot. Or maybe my attempts at impressing her (my side) made her believe that I was full of myself (her side) when really I was the same person living in a fancier house (the truth).

The thing is, after the first few months living there, we tried to downplay the house and everything in it. People would come in and say things like, "Pshaw (yes--that's a thing!) Must be NICE to have a house like this!" "Must be NICE to have fancy furniture!" and "I wonder why YOU guys get to live in a house like this..." REALLY?! I remember when people would say things like this and I wouldn't say anything--I felt guilty and uncomfortable and kind of agreed with them. Why DO we deserve to have this house? It ISN'T fair to others. Looking back, I feel angry. I would NEVER go into a person's home and question ANYTHING. It wouldn't even OCCUR to me to think that they didn't deserve to be there. I would maybe compliment their stuff and think, "Maybe some day WE could have this" or "Wow--good for THEM!" and never even CONSIDER that it would one day be me. Because it wasn't ABOUT me. Why did others make OUR house about THEM?!

The end of this terribly long post (or Terrible AND long post...) will be posted later. NO ONE should be forced to read much more than what I've written (Your side), even IF it is hilarious (MY SIDE), which I think we all know it's NOT. (the truth.)

"Niceness" is DEFINITELY underrated

I try to be a nice person all the time, but as I get older, I get crankier. I also think there is a direct correlation to how many times I gave birth and how crabby I am. If I were that Duggar woman, you would have to HIDE from me on a daily basis. Seriously--if I am THIS crazy with THREE, IMAGINE what I would be like with THIRTEEN (I shudder to think of it)--or NINETEEN (I honestly have no idea how many children she has--I'm not sure SHE knows, either--and I don't blame or judge her for it AT ALL-- is it twenty? Twenty-five? Who cares, really--after the tenth or eleventh she MUST have lost her mind, right? Because I lost mine and I only have (I know I told you, but it is pertinent to the story) THREE). I only saw parts of the show (I think it IS nineteen--isn't the show CALLED "Nineteen kids AND COUNTING"?!) YEARS ago, but she appeared to be happy enough--certainly not cranky. I feel like that is the dementia that takes over when you have NINETEEN kids and you are STILL counting, so the lack of crankiness doesn't really count in that case, I guess. So maybe I need to have eleven more children to conquer my crabby...


Oh my goodness--I had to step away for a few minutes so that I could LAUGH and then CRY. N-E-V-E-R GONNA HAPPEN! And not just because I am missing my parts. Last night at dinner, Ryan (my middle daughter) looked at me and said, "I really want a brother."  I need you to remember that we were ALL sitting at dinner TOGETHER--Addison (the youngest SISTER) was on her left and BRAYDEN (the oldest--BROTHER) was on her right. I stared at her for a second, looked at Brayden...looked back at her and she said it again. "WHAT? I want a BROTHER!" I slowly looked at Brayden, then looked back at her. We all started to laugh. She then clarified, "NOOOOO--I mean, I want a LITTLE brother," to which the other two vehemently agreed. Interesting...but probably not going to happen. I mean, DEFINITELY not going to happen (even MARY had her parts--not that I'M ANYTHING like Mary--nothing "immaculate" has gone on in MY life for YEARS. Is this sacreligious? If so, can I be forgiven? Please don't answer these questions--I don't want to know.), but maybe one day...probably NOT, but I DO think about adopting or becoming a foster parent. WHEN  (and IF) I get my brain back. You don't need to worry, though. My husband would NEVER go for it--he won't even let me get a PUPPY!


So back to me being nice...I kind of lost my "niceness" these last few years, but I still try to do random acts of kindness every day--things that don't really FEEL like random acts of kindness because I think that everyone who isn't a big jerk would do them. For example, holding the door for the person behind you at school, the store, church, gas station, library...you get it. ANYWHERE there is a door and you are entering or exiting. This seems like it would be a natural thing to do, right? I mean, you are going in--you simply hold out your hand so the door doesn't slam into the face of the unsuspecting soul behind you, OR you step aside and--yes, I'm gonna say it--ALLOW that person to enter FIRST. Crazy, I know, but it CAN BE DONE. I watch my children and their classmates push each other out of the way (sometimes they even STEP on each other!) to get to the door first and I realize that there are TOO MANY "grown ups" who do the same thing. It always makes me laugh--OUT LOUD--when the person in front of me goes out of his or her way to NOT touch the door when they enter a building and does not even LOOK to see if someone is entering after them. REALLY? REALLY, person who cannot be bothered to take one half of a second to glance back and hold the door for another human being--you are okay with that? You are okay with the door slamming in someone's face because you wanted to be ONE HALF of a SECOND earlier?! 


Of course, I always feel guilty when I hold the door for a person who is several feet away and they feel like they have to hurry because I am holding the door for them. I'm always sure to tell them to take their time, though they usually start running. THEN it is no longer a good deed. I feel compelled to tell them about when I was pregnant with my youngest and I had to waddle with the other two maniacs to hurry to get the door and that isn't really "helpful" at all. I am QUITE certain they LOVE that I tell them my story. Maybe THAT'S why I hold doors for people. Not to be nice, but to FORCE them to listen to my stories.  Hmmm....interesting...


The thing is, common courtesy and random acts of kindness are melding into one. I always thought that random acts of kindness needed to be big gestures--things that people wouldn't normally do--perhaps because they hadn't THOUGHT of doing them. Like paying the toll for the car behind you (which I tried to do a few times a month when I lived in Buffalo (I would hit the toll pretty frequently commuting from home, to school, to work, to work...and it was only like fifteen cents..something even I could afford!), though once I moved, I was rarely on toll roads), or bringing a homeless person lunch (though a few years ago when we lived in Virginia, I was driving with my friend's daughter and my oldest two. We came upon a homeless guy and I wanted to give him food, but I thought it wouldn't be appropriate with someone else's child in my car (I wasn't sure how her parents would feel about me pulling up to some strange man with their daughter in my car). I decided to slow down (not stop) and crack my window enough to throw a juice box and a cheese stick AT him. Yes...AT him. So now, instead of thinking, "Wow--it is so nice to give food to those who need it, she is thinking, "Wow--Mrs. Corwin THROWS FOOD at homeless people!" Great.


Bringing your cart back at the grocery store (though when my kids were little, I LIKED to find a parking spot with a cart next to it!) or helping someone to carry something awkward or heavy are just things that EVERYONE does, right?  Or helping someone who is short a dollar at the register (or when we were at the airport last year and this younger (I KNOW--EVERYONE is younger than me--he was about twenty) guy didn't know he would need to pay for his bag (because it was like a half of an inch bigger than the box. STUPID DELTA). He tried to pay with a credit card, but Delta evidently does not accept credit cards for baggage--NICE. I know there were people who were far wealthier than us who simply looked annoyed with this guy instead of feeling compassion for him. I know that the Delta personnell COULD have thought of SOMETHING to do to help this guy so that he could make his flight, but they chose to give that blank "I'm through with you--thereisnothingIcandoforyou...NEEEEXXXT" look that I HATE. At least PRETEND to want to help me, ya know?! We didn't necessarily have an extra twenty to spend, but I have BEEN that guy before, and even if I hadn't--how could I NOT help him?  We paid for his bag, which embarrassed him to the point of discomfort--maybe because everyone was GAWKING at him. He went on about how he would get the money at the first ATM and we both told him not to and not to give it a second thought. When things like that happen, I KNOW I married the right person. I cannot even IMAGINE what some of my ex-boyfriends would have said about THAT behavior--especially if we were hurting financially, but my husband and I were BOTH on the same page and we didn't even have to discuss it); or letting someone go in front of you either A. because you are being nice or 2. because they have ONE thing and YOU have ONE HUNDRED...everyone does THAT, right? WRONG.  This is another case of me thinking that everyone thinks like I do--I know, scary, but some of it is good...


So  on December 13, I decided to officially join this facebook 12 Days of Giving challenge. Although I try to do nice things on a regular basis (I swear I do--I'm not crabby ALL the time), this was going that extra step. Instead of dropping extra money in a toll, I drove through drive-thru simply to buy food for the next car. I bought coffee/cocoa for the construction workers down the road. I bought lunch for a few people at Wawa. The problem is, my "random" acts of kindness are NOT kind to our wallet, which is NOT kind to my husband! It does feel great, though. I always want to be the person who could pay the $200 bill for the person in front of me whose credit card is declined. Even when we HAD money, I don't remember ever doing THAT and it disappoints me. 


Yesterday I volunteered in my son's class. Every time I go to his (or his sister's) class, I try to bring coffee/cocoa and a treat to the teachers (mostly because I remember how excited I got when parents would do nice things for ME when I taught--it would make my whole week (sometimes MONTH) so much brighter! While I was paying for the coffee/cocoa, their Spanish and PE teachers got in line behind me. I said hello to them and chatted for a minute before I decided to pay for their lunches. At first they were surprised, then both couldn't stop thanking me as if I did something far more than pay for their meals--at WAWA. Both gave me a hug and I couldn't help but think, 'This really isn't a "RANDOM" act of kindness because they KNOW me and now feel in debted to me. I told them to NEVER mention it again. The thing is, I was going to pay for the person behind me anyway, so isn't it great that the two people behind me do things to directly help my children every day? Two birds, one stone. So to speak...


ANYWAY...I spilled a little coffee when I was trying to get into my car. THEN the coffee did a triple flip as I pulled out of the parking lot. I almost died (quite literally) pulling over to try to pick it up so it wouldn't spill anymore. When I parked at the school, the cups tipped AGAIN and when I went to catch ONE, the other lost its top and spilled all over the driver's seat. Most people would have given up on the coffee by now, but NOT ME. I'm P-R-E-T-T-Y tenacious when I want to be. I DID NOT go through all of THAT to simply THROW OUT the coffee. I entered the school soaked with coffee/cocoa mixture and proudly delivered (what I can only assume was tossed into the garbage) each coffee with the Reader's Digest version of the previous events. I'm a dropper. I'm a dropper and a spiller. AND a faller (refer to http://anothertiredmommy.blogspot.com/2011/11/soooo-clumsy.html). These are the things I do ALL the time and I've learned to live with it. I don't ACCEPT it--I live with it. But at least I can be a NICE dropper/spiller/faller, right?