On the Upside

I Knew

ontheupsideblog@aol.com (Kellan) — Mon, 02 Nov 2009 15:13:00 +0000

When you were born ... my children

I had no idea what sort of mother I would be.

I knew who I was ...

I knew who your father was ...

I knew what I loved about life.
I knew what I believed in.
I knew where I was going.
I knew where I had been.
I knew what I wanted.

I never knew that all the things I desired for myself would be the same things I would want for you but magnified by a thousand fold.

I never knew if my words were always strong enough ...

I never knew if my words were always kind enough ...

I never knew ... if when I had no words ... if my light would be bright enough to still lead you to where you needed to go.

I never knew all the answers.

I never knew ... so many things.

I know who I am ...

I know who your father is ...

I know who you are ... my children.

You are the best of me ...

You are the best of your father ...

One day ...

When you leave me ...

I hope you look back at all the things I never knew with compassion and forgiveness.

I hope you see the best that is in you ... in me.

I never knew so many things.

I hope you realize that ...

The ties I have to you ...

The bond ...

The connection ...

The love ...

Has been the most powerful and important thing in my life.

But ...

As much effort as has gone into the years of creating and sustaining the bonds between you and I ...

It was never a difficult journey ...

It has been a pleasure ...

A joy.

I hope it was enough.

Hell Must Have Frozen Over

ontheupsideblog@aol.com (Kellan) — Wed, 28 Oct 2009 21:45:00 +0000

I am screaming through my house - looking for Little Billy.

He has been home from school for about half an hour and it is time for him to start his homework.

I can not find him anywhere and I am getting annoyed - to say the least - screaming and walking and screaming and walking ...

WHERE IS THAT BOY?!?

And then ... I go into my bathroom and look out the window - into the front yard - and this is what I see ...

Go HERE to read the rest of this post.

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Pucker Up

ontheupsideblog@aol.com (Kellan) — Thu, 22 Oct 2009 16:00:00 +0000

So ... we are going to go out to dinner.

My mother is staying with us - we are at the lake.

Time goes by and it is getting late.

I am sitting in the living room, watching the news on TV.

My mom walks in the room. "Are we going?" she asks.

"I'm just waiting for everyone to get down here," I say. I'm not really in much of a hurry.

"I thought we were going." My mom seems in more of a hurry than me.

I look over at her. She's ready to go. "I'm waiting for Alexis," I say, and turn my attention back to the news.

My mom sits in a nearby chair. "Where is she? What's she doing?'

Go HERE to read the rest of this post.

Can I Take Your Order

ontheupsideblog@aol.com (Kellan) — Wed, 07 Oct 2009 14:37:00 +0000

When I was a kid ...

I don't recall my parents ever allowing us kids to pull a can of whipped cream out of the refrigerator, hold it up to our mouths and then empty a fistful of that whipped cream into our throats - NOPE!

I have a hard time believing that there was no such thing as tubes of refrigerated cookie dough on a shelf in the refrigerator, to be opened, dug into with a spoon - to snack on whenever we needed a cookie dough fix, but ... if there had been such a thing, I know very well ... our mother would never have allowed this sort of grazing.

I find it amazing to realize that - when I was a kid - we only ever ate at a fast food restaurant on the occasional Sunday, after church, or when we were on vacation with my family.

I also ... do not believe there was ever a time that I wandered into my parents' bedroom at 10:30 p.m, stood next to the side of my mother's bed and asked ...

"When are we going to have dinner?"

Go HERE to read the rest of this post.

Her Granna Is Lucky To Have Her

ontheupsideblog@aol.com (Kellan) — Tue, 29 Sep 2009 21:38:00 +0000

Alexis asked me, not too long ago, "How long is Granna gonna live?"

I, of course, tried to make it seem as though she would be around for a long while still.

She then wanted to know, "Who will take care of her?"

I knew what she meant, but still asked, "When?"

"When she's a granny," she said and then giggled.

I said, "Well ... she takes pretty good care of herself, but if she needs help, we will - we'll take care of her," I tried to reassure her ....

Go HERE to read the rest of this post.

TRUE BLOOD or BLUE BLOOD

ontheupsideblog@aol.com (Kellan) — Sat, 12 Sep 2009 13:58:00 +0000

I used to believe that in a previous life I was a Queen.

Not that I truly believe in reincarnation, but it would explain my obsessive love of all things glittery, shiny, sparkly and dangly.

I do love a blouse or purse adorned with crystals, gems or rhinestones.

I do love beads and feathers and chains attached to clothing or around my neck and in my ears.

I do love to imagine I once wore a crown that was full of diamonds and ruby's and emeralds.

Okay ...

So, maybe I wasn't a Queen, but I do love gaudy and frilly and shiny and glittery clothes.

Another thing I love is ...

VAMPIRES!

I'm not sure what this made me in a previous life (maybe a bat), but I am obsessed with VAMPIRES.

Lately, I have been totally consumed with all things TRUE BLOOD:

I mean OBSESSED!

Have you seen this series??

Oh my goodness!!!

I started out reading the books:

There are nine books out in this series by Charlaine Harris and I have - in a matter of just over a couple of weeks - read all nine.

After I read the first eight, I told myself that I would wait for the most recent Dead and Gone to come out in paperback before I read it. But .....................

After I finished From Dead to Worse .................

I could feel myself going into withdrawals at the thought of having to wait for this ninth book to come out in paperback.

So ...

With glazed over eyes, saliva oozing from the side of my mouth and my hands clenched so tightly I drew blood from my palms ...

I immediately headed over to Barnes & Nobel ...

Walked up to the information desk ...

Leaned way over the counter ...

And begged ...

Begged ...

"Please, please, please ... Dead and Gone by Charlaine Harris!"

The girl behind the counter looked at me like I was a vampire searching for blood and simply said, "It's only out in hardcover."

Lowering my head and looking up at her through my eyebrows I moaned, "GIVE IT TO ME! GIVE ME THAT $25.00 HARDCOVER BOOK! I HAVE TO HAVE IT!! I DON'T CARE WHAT IT COSTS!"

She gave it to me.

I read it.

Now I am in a total state of loss and depression as ...

The next installment in this series, A Touch of Dead, will not be out until October ...

WAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!

So ...

I thought the books were FABULOUS!!! Then ... I purchased season one of the HBO series and OMG!!!!

OMG!!!!

For the record ...

I love Bill the vampire, LOVE HIM, but ...

I secretly hope that Sookie ends up with Eric - the viking vampire.

Excuse me now while I slink back to my cave, put my crown on my head and rewatch season one of TRUE BLOOD and start reading the books all over again.

************

*Hey - my friend Sally over at Whispering Hope is having a really great giveaway this week in memory of her grandson. So make sure you stop over and see her.

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Brain Cells - Who Needs 'em?

ontheupsideblog@aol.com (Kellan) — Tue, 08 Sep 2009 19:16:00 +0000

The boy goes to school.

He makes excellent grades and listens to his teachers most of the time.

I was never good in school.

I seldom listened to my teachers - EVER!

The boy came into my room.

He said, "Mom - what's an ordered pair?"

The mom thinks ... *shoes - they come in pairs*

The mom thinks some more ... *eyes - they come in pairs too*

Go HERE to read the rest of this post.

Sweet Dreams

ontheupsideblog@aol.com (Kellan) — Wed, 02 Sep 2009 15:05:00 +0000

I sometimes call Alexis - Betty Boop.

Sometimes I call her - Tweety Bird.

On occasion ... I call her Miss Muffet.

I've always called her - My Tiny Girl.

I call her My Tiny Girl, because she is my baby and she is my youngest girl.

She is, however, not really ... a tiny girl.

There are girls that are tiny - you know - fragile and petite.

She is not one of those girls.

She is short - as most 8 year old girls are.

She is the smallest girl in the house.

But ...

She is not so tiny.

And ... because she is not so tiny, I have tried to make efforts - over time - to keep Alexis away from the sweets - you know - the Little Debbies, the bags of tiny Oreo cookies, the left-over Halloween candy I have stashed in a drawer.

To read the rest of this post go HERE.

Watch Closely Darlin' - You'll See How It's Done

ontheupsideblog@aol.com (Kellan) — Thu, 27 Aug 2009 17:25:00 +0000

I'm not the type to pull strings or call in favors unless I absolutely have too.

Okay ... It's not like I'm this suburban-mafia-mom that has tons of useful connections, meets covertly in dark alleys to make deals with shifty looking hoodlums, keeps a mental tally of favors owed to me or have a list of people that find me favorable by which I could pull some strings with.

I have no connections.

I know no hoodlums (except Little Billy and he's harmless, he's my son and he's only 12).

My mind is far to cluttered and feeble to keep track of what the actual day of the week is, let alone if I've ever accumulated favors owed to me.

And ... most people do not find me favorable.

But ...

I am wise in the ways of the world! I've been around long enough to know the games, watched carefully to try and understand how to play some of these games and, from time to time, have enlisted this aforementioned, accumulated knowledge to PLAY THE DAMN GAME!

I am on the board of the PTA for my twins' high school.

On Monday morning - the first day of school, mind you - I crawled out of my comfortable bed and quiet, kid-free house - the bed with the cozy down comforter and the house that was noiseless - to help at the high school, alphabetizing their AGR (an acronym that I have no clue what it stands for - something to do with registration - something to do with the first day of school) cards

Before I left my house, I began to receive numerous text messages from my Daughter Courtney - HER AND CHLOE'S SCHEDULES ARE SCREWED UP - HELP MOM!!!

I tried to appease my obviously highly-stressed-frantic-freaking-out-of-her-mind daughter by replying casually to her text messages with, "Don't worry about it, Hon - it'll all work out," sort of responses.

That didn't fly.

She continued to text message after message, interrupting me from getting ready to go - she NEEDED me to step in and help figure out this screw-up for her ---- PLEASE MOM! PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE!!

I stopped my primping, walked out of my bathroom and called the counselor's office. I was pretty quickly told they will not be addressing scheduling issues until after Labor Day, the girls will just have to stay in the classes assigned until then. Mind you - these girls spent 5 hours, two weeks ago, up at the school on Prep Days, working out their Senior year schedule and now the school has made an error by changing the schedule. The error is the school's error - not my girls'. This I conclude only too quickly.

I sigh.

I change my outfit (I was wearing something conservative - I change into something less conservative. There is a reason for this well-thought-out wardrobe change. I won't tell you what I changed into because I wouldn't want you to think badly of me. Okay - I'll tell you. The new outfit consisted of a shorter shirt and a tighter, lower cut blouse).

I grab my purse.

I grab my coffee.

I leave my nice quite house and drudge up to the school.

I go by the counselor's office and am told pretty much the same thing - "So sorry your daughter is upset but there's nothing we can do today." So, I ask to speak to the head counselor (I'm going to go up the ladder now) and am told it wouldn't be possible until late afternoon to meet with her - she's far too busy helping register new students. In the meantime, my daughter's are attending classes that will not be their set classes and Courtney is BEYOND hysterical this is all screwed up - she is still texting me constantly. I am informed by the counseling department that nothing can be done for two weeks.

I texted Courtney and told her to meet me near the counselor's office.

"Did they say for me to meet you?" Courtney texted me - I can sense her fear.

"I SAID FOR YOU TO MEET ME." I'm the tax payer and the mom here - what I say goes.

After her first period class ends - Courtney - visually distressed - meets me in the breezeway near the counselor's office.

"Courtney. Now, you have to tell me if this is SO IMPORTANT THAT YOU WANT ME TO MAKE A STINK TO GET THIS FIXED. Because if it is not that big a deal and you can wait until after Labor Day, you have to tell me now." I have no clue from one minute to the next what is REALLY important and what isn't when it comes to teenagers. What I think should be important - isn't. And, what I think is piddly-isn't-worth-the-worry-or-stress-or-making-your-mom-a-nut-case-until-the-issue-is-resolved sort of issue - they think is important. But ... as I am talking to her - trying to decipher the true worry about this scheduling-screw-up issue, I see the trauma and stress all over her face.

Tears began to roll down her cheeks and she is not a crier - she is my tough child.

She NEEDS this issue resolved and I, as her advocate, agree. She is a student and going to school is her one and only job and she is highly successful. It does not seem reasonable to me that she should be forced to remain in the "wrong" classes for two weeks - she needs to be put back in her "right" classes so she can start this school year stress-free and happy. (Happy is really all I'm aiming at here).

"Okay - it's a big deal," I say. "Let's go," and I begin to go toward the counselor's office - set on sitting in there until they do something to fix my daughter's schedule (all the while my anger is riling up and honestly, I intended to "dare" them to make me wait longer than I deemed reasonable. I wasn't sure how long that would be - it would all depend on how long they made me wait). But ... Courtney doesn't want to make a stink in the counselor's office - she had already been in there earlier and they chased her out, telling her they were too busy today to address her scheduling problem. *More tears*

I agree. I got nowhere with them either and was, while I didn't let on to my daughter, a little fearful myself to return to the lion's den. I say, "Okay. But, then we're going to have to go to the Principal." I'm pretty sure this will scare her to death and she will reject this idea.

She is good with this plan.

She knows I know the Principal and that the Principal of this school of 3000 students knows me well and knows her well.

"Where is he - let's find him," she says, her spirits a little higher now. Me - my heart is beating so fast it might just jump from my chest, land on the ground and trip me in the hallway.

We head off to look for the Principal.

We round the corner in the outdoor courtyard and there he is, standing with two other administrators that I also know well. I adjust my blouse, straighten my black and red floral shirt, cover my mouth with my hand and whisper to Courtney, "I'm going to need you to cry."

"What?" she asked, her eyes shifting nervously.

"Tears. Turn on the tears," I instruct, perfectly aware that this is one of the few times my daughter has witnessed me attempting to manipulate a man. Watch closely Dear, you will see how it is done.

We explained Courtney and Chloe's situation to the Principal. Courtney teared up (easily, because she was truly upset). He immediately took care of the situation.

Not ten minutes - TEN MINUTES - later, Courtney and Chloe's schedule was back the way it should be, Courtney gave her mom a big hug and bounced off to class - not a care in the world.

YES - I used everything (while not all that impressive or threatening or at all useful in everyday situations) in my arsenal to help my daughter. And, I didn't even have to scream and yell to get it done.

Courtney, quite impressed with her mother's talents, came home in the afternoon, all smiles. I questioned her about her schedule and she informed me that it was fine - everything was correct - "THANKS MOM, for your help".

Then ...

She went on to tell me that she repeated this story to several people at her school, one a teacher I know well, but in her story she impressed that she'd gotten the schedule changed back ... by crying.

"Did you tell them that I was the one who told you to turn on the tears?" I asked, astonished that she was taking credit for my sneaky plan.

"No," she admitted easily, and then shuffled on out of the room.

For the record - I was the administrator of this well-thought-out covert operation. But, I'm okay with my daughter taking the credit. I know only too well that she's too young to realize that that was part of my plan too - tee hee. (Okay, not really, but it will come in handy if I ever have to deny I played a part of this manipulation). And, for the record - I could have kept on my original outfit. I'm pretty darn sure it didn't have a thing to do with ultimately getting this job done *hangs head pitifully*

Either Speed Up ... Or Shuffle On Out Of My Way

ontheupsideblog@aol.com (Kellan) — Tue, 25 Aug 2009 14:27:00 +0000

I am a fast talker.

I use lots of hand gestures when I talk.

I don't do anything slowly.

Most of all ... I walk really fast - everywhere.

I sit down - and then I stand up quickly, run and do something and then run and do something else. I am a multi-tasker and I have perfected this art.

So ... imagine me - this very busy mother - running up and down the hallway by our bedrooms. In one room and out of the other. In and out of the bathroom, grabbing towels and brushes. Putting away clothes. Wiping off counters. Picking up toys.

And then ... imagine Alexis.

She has just gotten out of the bathtub ...

Go HERE to read the rest of this post.

I've Been Published!

ontheupsideblog@aol.com (Kellan) — Thu, 20 Aug 2009 23:38:00 +0000

My book's been published!

Oh, sorry.

I get stuck in that daydream and sometimes I just can't help but scream those words out loud. One day - ONE DAY - I am going to be able to say those words FOR REAL. (If you're curious as to how it's going with my book - go HERE to read more.)

Anyway ...

Back to reality.

The title is a true statement ... I HAVE BEEN PUBLISHED!

Some of you know that I also write over at mySA (the San Antonio Express Newspaper's website) in their MomsInSA section - this is my BLOG.

Anyway ...

On Tuesday ... they published one of my stories in the SAN ANTONIO EXPRESS NEWSPAPER - WOO HOO!

If you'd like to read this story go HERE.

Little Billy was oh so pleased to see his photo in the newspaper.

I was beyond pleased to see one of my stories in print somewhere other than on my blogs, in rough drafts piled on the edge of my desk and inside my laptops.

It's my first publication EVER!

It's not a novel, but I'm still very excited and pleased and ...

One day I hope it will be.

Today ...

The local newspaper ...

Tomorrow ...

Random House!!

*Clasps hands and prays to God to grant just this one little wish*

That Girl Needs To ... Eat Some Woppers and ... Chill Out!

ontheupsideblog@aol.com (Kellan) — Tue, 18 Aug 2009 13:13:00 +0000

Alexis is a bit theatrical.

She's a bit of a DRAMA QUEEN!

I have never seen a child throw so many fits over the most ridiculous of things.

Sometimes ...

The drama is predictable and sometimes ...

It comes out of the blue.

Things could be going along swimmingly and BOOM! - Alexis is in sudden MELTDOWN - Arms waving - spit flying - tears flowing - squeals squeaking out of her mouth!

Sometimes ...

I KNOW the meltdown is coming - you know - I'm actually the one that caused the combustion - like when she's in the middle of watching a favorite show and I tell her it's time for her bath - MELTDOWN!

There are many meltdowns like this - I see them coming.

Then ...

There are those that SURPRISE me.

The ones that come out of left field - where something is said or done that rubs her funny ... MELTDOWN!

I don't LIKE any of the meltdowns - don't enjoy the tantrums or whining or crying or theatrics - but ... I do find that I am amused more by the spontaneous, unpredictable meltdowns - sometimes they are just funny.

Recently ...

We were at the theatre - sitting in our seats - waiting for the movie - me, Alexis, Little Billy and one of Little Billy's friends.

Little Billy wanted to go get some candy.

I gave him money.

He stood up.

Alexis ----- MELTDOWN MODE - right out of left field!

Her face got all twisted - squeals squeaked loudly from her mouth - she slid almost completely to the floor as her body began to wrench and spasm! It was ridiculously LOUD. Ridiculously painful to watch and hear and ... ridiculously ... NOT FUNNY!

Little Billy's friend turned slowly in his seat to face the DRAMA QUEEN - and just stared in disbelief.

Alexis' mother - turned quietly in her seat so as to have a better view of the spectacle unfolding - and just stared in disbelief.

Little Billy ---

Moves quickly across the aisle ---

Stands very close to his CRAZY sister ---

Gazes down at her calmly ---

He says ...

In his most excellent "mom" tone ---

The one he's practiced ---

The one he's mimicked ---

The one he uses behind his mom's back and thinks she doesn't notice ---

He says ...

"Well ...

That's - An - Ugly - Face.

Just tell me ...

Tell me ...

What kind of candy do you want."

On the upside ... I guess she thought she wasn't gettin' any candy - WHO KNOWS!?! But ... Little Billy has her figured out - she sat right up, straightened her CRAZY SELF back in her seat and --- quietly --- PUT IN HER CANDY ORDER! *Smiles*

Me --- I needed something more intoxicating than Strawberry Twizzlers or a box of Milk Duds! Instead ... I got an hour and a half of WALL-E and the DRAMA QUEEN munching on Woppers and snuggling up under my arm because ... she was soooooo COLD!

Sex - Who Needs It

ontheupsideblog@aol.com (Kellan) — Thu, 13 Aug 2009 12:41:00 +0000

"Where ya goin', Hon?" The Cowboy adjusts his Stetson and moves towards his wife.

"Off to the doctor. It's that time of year again." Kellan rolls her eyes as visions of stirrups send a cold chill from her feet all the way up her spine.

"Oh, good. Maybe ask him about that sex thing again. See if there's something he can give you to make you frisky - like you were when you were younger, you know, before we had all them doggone kids."

Kellan sighs loudly. "Okay, Hon."

*Six hours later*

*Nurse enters waiting room filled with 64 women waiting for their annual exams*

"Kellan - the doctor will see you now. Come this way. Take off all of your clothes. Put on this gown made of Kleenex. Sit here on this stirrup table with your back and ass fully exposed and stare at the huge vagina on the wall for fifty-six more minutes and Dr. I-only-became-a-Gynecologist-so-I-could-brag-to-all-my-college-buddies-that-it-was-true-I-do-get-to-look-at-vaginas-all-day-every-day-I-bet-you-wish-you-were-me ... will come in and see you shortly.

*Fifty-six minutes later Dr. I-only-became-a-Gynecologist-so-I-could-brag-to-all-my-college-buddies-that-it-was-true-I-do-get-to-look-at-vaginas-all-day-every-day-I-bet-you-wish-you-were-me meanders into the tiny room*

"Hi, Lady. How are you.?"

"I'm Kellan. It's me, Kellan. Remember me? I saw you last year. And, the year before that and the year before that. You delivered all of my kids. I've been coming to you for 20 years. Kellan. Remember?"

"Oh, no. I can't possibly remember all of you ladies. I don't remember you. No. You know, this is like a freakin' cattle call around here. We herd ladies in by the dozens each day and I don't have time or the inclination to actually remember any one's name," he says too casually and then straddles the small stainless steel stool across the room.

"Oh."

"So, how have you been?"

"About the same."

"Are you eating?"

"Yeah - I eat. But ... I need to ask you about my sex drive."

"How about sleep? Do you sleep?"

"Yes, I sleep. But ... I have no sex drive. I haven't had a sex drive for over ten years."

"Your legs and arms work?"

"Yes, they work. But ... I could care less about sex."

"How about your fingers. They okay?"

"Yes, my fingers are all fine. But ... I need something for my sex drive. I just don't have any desire to have sex anymore."

"How about your breasts? How are they?"

"They hurt most of the time."

"Too much caffeine," he says, jotting notes in my chart.

"And, your head? How's your head?" he asks, appearing a little bored.

"Hurts most of the time."

"Too much caffeine," he states, jotting more notes in my chart.

"And, how about your mood?" he asks and yawns.

"Cranky. Mean. Bitchy," I say, trying hard not to be cranky or mean or bitchy.

"Too much caffeine," he says, his answer echoing off the walls of the claustrophobic exam room and around the inside of my numb brain.

"But ... Dr. I-only-became-a-Gynecologist-so-I-could-brag-to-all-my-college-buddies-that-it-was-true-I-do-get-to-look-at-vaginas-all-day-every-day-I-bet-you-wish-you-were-me ... what about my sex drive? I never want to have sex. I'm not at all like I was when I was younger. My husband is going to find someone younger to have sex with if I don't get this fixed."

"How many kids do you have?"

"Four."

"Well, there's your problem. Nope. We can't fix that. Nope."

*blink blink*

"Sorry, can't be fixed. We don't' have a clue how to fix it. Honestly, we really don't care. You know, that would take millions of dollars and years of research to figure all that crap out and that just makes no sense to all of us men who are running the country and the research companies and insurance companies and, you know, we run the world and we don't care much about that sort of crap."

"Um - it can't be fixed?"

"Uh, no. It's broken," he says dismissively.

"What's broken?"

"Your rubber band," he raises his eyes along with his voice about three octaves.

"Rub-ber band?"

"Yep, the one in your brain," he says, lowering his eyes to my chart again.

"Maybe I should see a Neurologist - since it's a brain thing?"

"Nope. Can't be fixed. It's not just the brain. It's thyroid, hormones, fatigue, stress, caffeine - too much to fix. It's broken," his tone is nonchalant as he stands to go.

"Um, okay. Thanks, Dr. I-only-became-a-Gynecologist-so-I-could-brag-to-all-my-college-buddies-that-it-was-true-I-do-get-to-look-at-vaginas-all-day-every-day-I-bet-you-wish-you-were-me."

I change back into my street clothes, throw the Kleenex robe into the trash and head back home.

*Later that night in bed with The Cowboy*

"So, how'd it go at the doctor today? Did you get some pills or some juice or some acupuncture to fix that sex thing?" The Cowboy slips off his cowboy boots, jeans and shirt and falls onto the bed - still wearing his Stetson and a big smile.

*sigh*

"It's broken and it's can't be fixed. Sorry, Hon." Kellan reaches for a book on her bedside nightstand and flips it open to read.

"What's broken?" The Cowboy asks curiously.

"My rubber band."

The cowboy gasps loudly. "NO!" His eyes are as wide as a lasso.

"Yep - can't be fixed. How did your appointment go?" Kellan lays the book on her lap and listens.

"It went great." The Cowboy reaches over to the nightstand on his side of the bed and retrieves a freezer-size baggie full of colorful pills. "I didn't even actually have to see the doctor." He smiles real big as he shakes the baggie full of pills in front of Kellan's face. He goes on, "There's like all these pill dispenser machines in the waiting room and they dispense ten pills for a quarter. These are the pills I got." He shakes the bag again enthusiastically.

Kellan sits up in the bed and takes the bag of pills in her hands. "So, what's this red pill do?" She holds a red pill in her palm and stares at it in amazement.

"Oh, that's to make it harder for like 3 hours."

"And, what about this blue pill?" Kellan drops the red pill back in the bag and touches her finger to one of the blue pills.

"Oh, to make it longer," he says snidely as he clasps his hands behind his neck and puffs out his bare chest.

"How about the yellow pills?"

"Oh," he chuckles, "those make it glow in the dark." His grin is wide and exaggerated.

"Case you can't find it?" Kellan giggles.

The Cowboy doesn't laugh.

"What about these rainbow colored ones and sparkly ones?" Kellan pushes the rainbow and sparkly pills around the plastic bag.

"So if you want it to be rainbow colored or ... sparkly," The Cowboy says in a sarcastic tone.

"Ah." Kellan shrugs. "What about the green ones?"

"Oh, those are new!" The cowboy exclaims and sits up excitedly. "Those make it dance." His smile is so big, Kellan thinks it's going to break The Cowboy's face.

"And ... the black ones?" Kellan pinches a black pill between her fingers.

The Cowboy grunts and then rolls his eyes.

Kellan slaps herself on the forehead. "Oh, but of course," she responds, visions of especially large pickles that are grown in Africa popping into her broken brain.

Kellan falls back on her pillow and sighs loudly.

"So, what do you want to do?" The Cowboy asks, adjusting his Stetson on his head and then turning on his side to look into the eyes of his useless wife.

Kellan holds the bag of pills up in front of her face.

She reaches inside and grabs several pills.

She hands them to The Cowboy.

"Here - take these and then turn off the lights," Kellan says, her tone a bit bored.

The Cowboy pops the pills into his mouth, flicks the switch on the clock radio to a country station, tosses his Stetson on the floor, turns off the bedside lamp, pushes the covers aside and ... he and Kellan spend the next 3 hours watching his humongous, rainbow colored, glow-in-the-dark penis dance in the dark while ... yet another rubber band twists and stretches until it breaks inside of Kellan's head.

The End

Note: This is a fictional tale brought on by too many discussions with my women friends about the unbalanced treatment and attention to women's issues compared to men's. The only thing true in this story is my name and the fact that all of my rubber bands are indeed broken. Oh, yes, and I do like when The Cowboy wears his Stetson to bed.

-

The Old Lady Blues

ontheupsideblog@aol.com (Kellan) — Tue, 11 Aug 2009 16:10:00 +0000

I'd had been a pretty busy day.

It was a hard day of cleaning house, sorting through paper-work, cleaning out the refrigerator - you know - a hard day.

I took a shower about 3:00 in the afternoon. If I hadn't had to go out, I wouldn't have done much with my hair, but I knew I was going to have to go pick Little Billy up from a friend's house around 4:00, so ... I blew dry my hair with a round brush and pulled some of it up on the top of my head with a barrette. Let's just say ... it was straight and clean and smooth looking, but ... it was not my usual style (curled up - poofed out - sprayed with tons of hairspray). Nor, was it necessarily attractive.

I didn't care.

It was clean.

So, the afternoon wore on. Into the evening, my twins arrive home from school after softball practice.

My husband and the twins have stopped by Sonic to pick up dinner for the family and Chloe brings my bag of food and my drink up to my room and sits it on my desk.

She looks at my hair.

She says -- "Your hair's different."

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She Is Such A Little Diva

ontheupsideblog@aol.com (Kellan) — Mon, 10 Aug 2009 00:45:00 +0000

It is a morning when my twins are at basketball practice.

Alexis and I are home alone, as Little Billy had gone to work on this day with his Daddy.

I am in a rush, as I have to go pick the girls up at their school and I scream down the stairs, "Alexis - you have to come and get ready to go. I'm going to pull out your clothes and you need to come and get dressed."

She heard what I said and yelled back, "I'll pick out something - I want to pick it out." And she came running up the stairs as fast as she could run - so as to catch me before I picked out her clothes.

I stopped looking in her closet and turned to leave her room. I turned back and said, "Okay, but don't pick out anything WEIRD - just pick out some pants and a shirt."

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Sometimes ... You Should Just Stay Close To Home

ontheupsideblog@aol.com (Kellan) — Sun, 02 Aug 2009 17:22:00 +0000

I have a husband of nearly 25 years.

I have 4 kids for the past 17 years.

I have a house and yard to take care of.

I have meals to make.

Mouths to feed.

Laundry to do.

Bills to pay.

Shopping.

I have 2 dogs.

I have 3 cats.

I have a lot of stuff to do in my world!

So ... the one day ... when our yellow cat - Garfield - came home - CASTRATED ... I could not have been more pleased!

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Never Judge A Teenager By The Clothes They Wear

ontheupsideblog@aol.com (Kellan) — Thu, 30 Jul 2009 15:58:00 +0000

About fifteen years ago, my husband and I sat in the living room of our first home with a realtor. We discussed in depth what sort of new home we were looking to buy, once we sold our house. I pulled out a small real estate book - complete with house photos and descriptions. I flipped through the pages and noticed this one particular home that I really liked. I took my little book and walked over to the realtor and said, "This house. This is what I want."

The realtor looked down at the brochure. And then, he looked down his nose at me, curled his lip and said, "Wouldn't we all."

The photo in that brochure was of a house behind a large brick wall with security gates on the front. I liked the look of the house because of the wall, as I had two small children, a dog and a husband with redneck tendencies (loves working on old cars). While this was a relatively old house, this seemed like exactly the kind of house we were looking for.

We promptly dismissed that realtor and coincidentally went on to buy that house and have lived in that house - the one that realtor presumed we could not afford - the one that realtor assumed was beyond our means - for the past fifteen years.

Never judge a book by its cover or a house by its security gate.

This was not a fancy house. This was not a house beyond our means. But, at the time, the realtor looked at the picture of this house with the large brick wall and security gate and promptly decided that we were too young for such a house - too poor.

This past week I went to north Texas visiting colleges with my twin daughters. These are the same twins that prefer to wear t-shirts to blouses, athletic shorts to skirts and Converse sneakers to ballet flats.

We toured a fine university in the morning and I requested a conference with one of the counselors right after our tour was done. Courtney, Chloe and I went in and made ourselves comfortable in his office. We went through our list of questions about the university and how it might offer academic programs my girls are interested in.

It was pretty clear, early on, that the counselor had his own ideas about my girls - about me. Mind you - he never asked about their qualifications, their test scores, their class ranking or anything else about their resumes. He simply offered answers in a tone - while well desquised behind a well rehearsed smile - that was condescending.

At one point, I inquired about academic scholarships - like some of the other universities offer to high achieving prospective freshman. He quickly responded by throwing out high SAT/ACT scores, high class rankings, blah, blah, blah, that a prospective student would have to meet before even being considered for "such" scholarships. And then, he sort of dismissed the whole academic scholarship discussion.

I kept my eyes on his smug face and my mouth shut. When we left, I never told my girls, but to myself I thought - I guess UT or Texas State or any of the other ten universities we are considering, might just be thrilled to take my - basketball shorts, t-shirt, Converse wearing twins ... and offer them substantial academic scholarships ... when they find out that these two girls are in the top 6% of their class of 600+ and their ACT and SAT scores rank them in the top 98% in the nation.

Never judge a teenager by the clothes they wear! And, seriously, never do it in front of the mother paying for the college tuition because ... she might just scratch your university off the list based on your arrogant attitude alone.

We know when others look down their noses at us and ... they know when they are doing it. We didn't buy that house fifteen years ago just to spite that realtor, it was merely a coincidence. But I kept that real estate brochure. It was my way of reminding myself of what it felt like to be looked down upon and also how it felt to prove somebody wrong.

(The house is the one circled on the lower left)

I don't know yet where my girls will be going to college, but what I do know is this ... they will probably still be wearing Converse sneakers and basketball shorts. Maybe even a tattoo or piercing in their nose or eyebrow. And ... they will likely graduate in the top of the class because that is who they are. They are not the clothes they wear, but they have their own styles, are paving their own paths in this world and are very confident and comfortable with who they are.

Girl ... What Tree Did You Fall From

ontheupsideblog@aol.com (Kellan) — Tue, 28 Jul 2009 15:37:00 +0000

My twins are pretty smart girls.

They have always gotten really good grades in school and have taken challenging courses - always.

I was never that smart in school.

I'm still not all that smart.

Anyways ... once, Chloe got a lower grade than she expected on a math test.

She says that she was very upset when she got the test back and she began to cry. She says that a friend (a boy) that sat near her in the math class asked her why she was so upset and she explained, "I got a C," tears streaming down her face.

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Monkey See - Monkey Do

ontheupsideblog@aol.com (Kellan) — Fri, 24 Jul 2009 16:16:00 +0000

I try to set the best example for my children.

I am not always the one these kids should be looking to for guidance - really - but, I do the best I can.

I keep my house clean.

I keep our clothes clean.

I stand up straight and listen when I am spoken to.

I chew with my mouth shut.

I eat all the food on my plate.

I take off muddy shoes at the door.

I do my best ...

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Tide - Take Me Away

ontheupsideblog@aol.com (Kellan) — Tue, 21 Jul 2009 13:05:00 +0000

I am in my tiny, little laundry room that is right next to the family room.

As much as I detest doing laundry, I do like my cozy, little laundry room as it has a door on it and since the entire On The Upside family believes this is MY room (because no one has a clue how to do laundry, will go near the laundry room for fear I will ask them to do laundry, never takes it upon themselves to sort, load, fold or hang any laundry ever, whatsoever, at any time!), I can normally wander in there - into MY little 8ft. x 6ft. space -close the door and ESCAPE for brief moments of solitude.

I sort clothes.

I load clothes.

I fold clothes.

I hang clothes.

It's mindless work, really, so ... I am content to hang out there for ten minutes or twenty minutes at a time and escape from all human contact and just let my mind wander and be massaged by the swish - swish - swish of my Kenmore washing machine and the drum - drum - drum of my Kenmore dryer.

It is peaceful, in a laundromat sort of way.

It is simple work and I enjoy moments of simple.

It is relatively quiet and, while my hands are normally quite busy, my rattled brain is offered these daily minutes to be cleansed and massaged back to some semblance of sanity because ...

This is MY 6ft. x 8ft. space in our house.

This is MY little oasis (while not at all tropical and lacking a hammock or even a chair and there are no fruity, umbrella drinks or handsome cabana boys).

But ...

It is often MY refuge ...

That is ...

Unless ...

Alexis searches the house ...

Opens the door ...

And invites her seven year old ...

BOUNCY

LOUD

RAMBUNCTIOUS

TALKATIVE

self ...

Into MY 6ft. x 8ft world.

*sigh*

"Hi Hon."

"Knock - knock."

"Who's there?"

"Banana."

"Banana who?"

"Knock - knock."

"Who's there?"

"Banana."

"Banana who?"

"Knock - knock."

"Who's there?"

"Banana."

"Cabana who?"

"NO - banana!"

"Oh, yeah."

"Now I have to start all over again. Knock - knock."

*sigh*

"Who's there?"

"Banana."

"Hey - let's play hide and seek," I interrupt this JOKE! "You go hide."

She runs off happily and searches for the best hiding place ever. I can hear her LOUDNESS still ... even over the swish - swish - swish of my Kenmore washer and the drum - drum - drum of my Kenmore dryer.

*Laundry lady quietly tip-toes over and closes the door to the tiny laundry room and pretends to count, but really ... REALLY ... she escapes back to the islands, where she is lying in a hammack beneath the tallest and shadiest palm trees enjoying the soothing sounds of the ocean waves as they lap playfully against the beach . She opens her eyes only briefly to see her handsome cabana boy walking toward her in his blue and white floral swim trunks, bare, beach-bronzed chest and and sun-bleached hair and ... in his hand is a PINA COLADA with a pink umbrella stickin' out of the top of the frost covered glass and on his gorgeous face is a smile that says, "I am here to serve you - can I get you anything else."*

On the upside ... Yes - yes you can.

Texas Boys Definitely Need To Know How To Use A Rope

ontheupsideblog@aol.com (Kellan) — Wed, 15 Jul 2009 16:10:00 +0000

The phone rings.

I answer it.

The woman - what sounds like a soft, computer generated voice - says, "Do you have a - deer in your pool?"

My mind says, Well that's odd, but my mouth answers, "Why yes we do," in response to this survey question, because ... WE DID HAVE A DEER IN OUR POOL!

I say, "Who is this?" and my friend - we'll call her Fifi - says, "It's me, Fifi." I laugh out loud.

I explain that I found it strange that a survey company would be calling my house - asking this odd question - but, I could have sworn when I heard her voice that it sounded so smooth - so strangely computer-like. I told her I half expected her to continue by asking, "What do you plan on doing about that?" or some other question, in a very survey-like manner.

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The Life Of A Boy Dare-Devil

ontheupsideblog@aol.com (Kellan) — Mon, 13 Jul 2009 14:33:00 +0000

Little Billy is a dare-devil.

He's been a dare-devil his whole life.

He's the sort of boy that has never shown a fear of wandering into the woods alone or racing his bike up a ramp that sends him flying into the air.

He likes fast motorcycles and go-carts.

He likes pellet guns.

He likes bows and arrows.

He likes chasing after animals and hiding in dark, scary places where no one will find him.

People have often commented that "Little Billy isn't scared of anything," and it is very true.

Not long ago, I was in my room working and I heard a noise on the roof.

I went out on the deck just off my second story bedroom.

I glanced up to the roof, held my hand in front of my face to block the direct sun from my eyes. I squinted and searched to see if I could spot one of our cats or squirrels making the noise above me. Suddenly ... between the sun and me ... I saw a small boy's silhouette standing on the peek of the house - two stories off the ground.

"Little Billy," I yelled.

"Yes, Mom," he answered casually.

"GET DOWN OFF THE ROOF!"

"Awwww, Mom," he grumbled, as he made his way back across the shingles and over to the tree he had used to elevate his tiny self to this escapade of danger.

He looked back over at me, "Can I have a hug?" he asked, knowing that maybe this request would soften his mother from beating the crap out of him.

"When you get down," I answered calmly.

On the upside ... I know -- this is not good -- on so many levels. But, this is not an uncommon occurrence for this boy child of mine. Sometimes, my mom will be at my house and she will suddenly announce, "Little Billy's on the roof," or "Little Billy's up in that tree - do you see him?" I know --- this is not good. But, this child is a dare-devil. I warn him to stay down from high places - I do! It scares me to death. But, I have to admit -- I also love the idea that he is a free spirit that follows the whims that entice him to live his life at accelerated speeds and exhilarating heights -- over a boy that is trapped in a life that brings him no joy or adventure.

I hugged the boy when he got down from the roof and I scolded loudly, "YOU'VE GOT TO STOP DOING THAT - YOU SCARE THE LIVING DAY LIGHTS OUT OF ME!"

He flashed his most charming James Bond smile and said, "Okay, Mom," and then went on his way.

Nope - She Never Shuts Up

ontheupsideblog@aol.com (Kellan) — Fri, 10 Jul 2009 03:44:00 +0000

She takes a deep breath.

She puts her tongue to the back of her teeth.

She opens her mouth.

She says ...

"It's warm.

It's warm back here, now.

Did you turn on the heat?

I love those pretzel things.

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There Are Only Just So Many Places To Hide

ontheupsideblog@aol.com (Kellan) — Mon, 06 Jul 2009 14:16:00 +0000

I pride myself on being a patient person.

Uh ... wait, that's not true. I'm the least patient person I know.

But, I do pride myself on being a good mother.

Uh ... wait, that's not true either. I'm basically a mediocre mother at best and I know this.

Okay, I am friendly and like large crowds.

Uh .... wait, that's false. I'm not a fan of large crowds and even search out ways to hide sometimes even from my own family.

Like recently, when I tiptoed like a quiet mouse upstairs to escape into my bathroom for some peace and quite.

Yes - I just went in there and sat at the small bench in front of my antique vanity and stared into the mirror at my frazzled reflection.

I was just looking for a bit of solitude.

I was just taking a minute for myself.

I was HIDING!

It didn't last long.

Suddenly ....

I hear someone enter the bathroom and start the shower in the room on the other side of the wall from me.

I hear some scuffling around and a bit of humming.

It does not take long before I know who is in there when the child begins to ramble incessantly ...

"NO," he says loudly.

"I KNOW," he then says even louder.

"DON'T YOU KNOW ANYTHING?" he's speaking in a voice that is echoing painfully loud off the tile walls of the bathroom.

"NO, I DO NOT KNOW - DO YOU KNOW?" he is talking to himself.

"I KNOW THERE IS NO ONE HERE, DO YOU KNOW WHY NO ONE IS HERE?" He goes on and on using the word NO is too many different and annoying ways.

"I TOLD YOU NO! DON'T YOU KNOW WHAT NO MEANS? NO? WELL, NO MEANS NO! DO YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN?" He is now giggling after each creative sentence.

"NO, NO, NO! I DON'T WANT TO KNOW ANYMORE ABOUT IT. I SAID NO!" His voice fades a bit as he steps into the shower and slams the glass door.

I smiled.

And then ...

I sighed loudly.

And then ...

I got up and went to search for somewhere else to HIDE!

On the upside ... NO, I don't KNOW the next word he repeated over and over again, but I am confident that after I escaped the bathroom that there were likely additional vocabulary words tortured by the small boy.

SORRY!

ontheupsideblog@aol.com (Kellan) — Sat, 04 Jul 2009 14:00:00 +0000

Oh ... there are a lot of DREADED words that a mother hates to hear.

I'm not talking about horrific things - don't want to think about horrific things.

I'm talking about those moments when a little one comes to you and says something that sends a bit of a chill up your spine.

Things like ...

"Mommy, there's something wrong with the toilet."

You know - DREADED words.

I've heard my share of DREADED words over the years and have compiled a mental list of the ones that rub me the most chilly.

I have tried to teach my children - over the years - those words that I am not fond of - those that make me a bit CRAZY. They still use all these words, but have gotten smart enough to know that they should say them really fast - like they are throwing them at me like a dart - and then run as quickly as they can out of the room.

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