Thursday, May 28, 2009

Beep Beep, Beep Beep, His Horn Went Beep Beep Beep.

I just wanted to throw in another two cents about an article I read today:
(By the way, if I really did contribute two cents every time something popped in my head, I would be a millionaire by now...)

On, there is an article about this dumbass (in my humble opinion) teenager who posted a video on Youtube of him going over 160 mph in Verona on highway 151. Yes, you read that correctly, over 1 6 0 miles per hour. Do you know how fast that is?? My dad does the quarter mile at 190, in a souped up Chevy truck.

And not only that, right after the video was filmed, he wrecked the car.


Can you believe that?? The worst thing that happened to this kid was that he lost his license and got a $1000 fine. A FINE people! He's damn lucky he didn't lose his head in that accident.

Which begs the question: Where were the cops on this busy frequented highway when this was happening?

I called my husband to tell him about it, and the only question I got from him was:

"Wow. What kind of car was it?"

And it never ceases to amaze me that the male mind always picks out those REALLY pressing questions.

A Bird in the Bush

I heard a good piece of advice I thought I would pass along today...

Don't compare your life to others. You have no idea what their journey is all about.

I know a lot of people (okay, myself included) that constantly go about wishing they had this or that, or wanting to "fix" people. Sometimes you need to take a step back and realize that A. your kids don't really care if you don't have a ton of money as long as you go to the park once in a while, and B. you are NOT God's gift to the human race. I guess its probably something I am trying to change about myself- the fact that I cannot change other people.

Nothing horrible is going to happen to me if I just choose to focus on my own family instead of the mess that is some others lives.

And I'm not going to spend anymore sleepless nights worrying about it.

And in line with mentioning sleepless nights, we have started the combat over bed time with the Bean. She confronted dad about it last night.

"I wish I were a grown up so I could stay up later."

Oh? That's why you want to be a grown up? Girl, slow down. Being grown up comes with its own set of responsibilities. Hello bills, jobs, kids, cars. Just be a child for a while, kay?

Or, at the very least, if you want to be more "grown up", why don't you get more familiar with the laundry?

I'm pretty sure that would set you straight.

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

The End of an Era?

Mary had her baby yesterday. And my husband says, "Good. At least we don't have to hear about how she is pregnant anymore."

"Yeah, now we have to hear about a baby constantly."

"Nope. Cause' we aren't going to be around her."

I knew I loved him.
Charlotte is figuring out she has a voice, and she was using it last night.

She was propped up on my side, with her head straight in the air and that unfaultering gaze of hers never leaving my face. And then she would let loose with a loud OOooOOo that surprised even her. And then it delighted her. Her whole face would light up when she realized she could make that much noise. It is quite a contrast to the nasily sounds she was making before.

Seems like this child is going to give Bekah a run for her money.

And also, it would seem I cursed myself yesterday by bringing up my mom hitting a bird.

Because on my way home from picking Bekah up, I totally flattened a baby bird in the road. I KNEW I hit it, but I STILL turned around hoping I was wrong.

It made me feel bad the rest of the night.

Curse you, Goodyear.

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

Life is...Droll?

My mom hit a bird in the car once.

I know how morbid this is going to sound, but it was strangely beautiful. The way all the feathers scattered behind the car much like the way dandelion seeds fan out when you blow on them.

My life feels sort of like that right now. Jumbled, and blown apart on the wind. Maybe its the sleep deprivation- the baby is sick. Or maybe its the way all of the days are sort of flowing together. I hate monotonous living. Get up, work, eat, play with kids, sleep, repeat. Pretty soon the litter box needs to be changed and you are another year older. Its strange to think that a year ago I was excited about our wedding, and now I am changing diapers. Did it all happen that fast?

Kevin got a job offer today that he is looking into on Thursday. Its the second time THEY have contacted HIM, and it's kind of flattering in a way, being married to someone who is sort of "semi-famous"- granted it IS a town with a population under 3000, but still something to be proud of.

I am sitting her with my super mega jumbo iced vanilla coffee trying desperately to keep my eyes open, and going over what bills need to be paid in my head. Too bad the actual bills AREN'T all in my head.

This weekend went by in its predictable blur. Had to work Saturday, then home to see my girls. Sunday? Graduation party. Then to a beer tent where the one beer my husband promised me turned into a community beer that I got four sips out of at the most. Monday? Memorial day. Went to the lake with my husband and his parents and went for a boat ride. Fell asleep on the way home.

And Tuesday? Well, I'm here.

What more do you want from me?

Friday, May 22, 2009

Quick Glances...

Tend to get you in trouble. Here is a spot on example:

I went to NBC's website , and the headline was "Take Your Brat To School Day".

And my first thought was, Wow. They just come right out with it don't they?? I didn't realize it had changed from take your CHILD to work day to take your BRAT to work day.

And then I saw this:

And slapped my self on the forehead.

Well, DUH. Of course they were talking about BRATWURSTS. This day in age you can't even look at a child sideways without getting smacked on the wrist by the school district, why did I even think that they would be referring to actual kids when they said BRAT.

And then I realized why I thought that.

I mean, I WAS the one that put my youngest in a onesie that says I am the good one, my sister is the brat.

It was bound to happen.


Life has slowed down a tad.

Charlotte has a cold, but she is smiling through it. Bekah is finishing up her last few weeks in kindergarten. Kevin is drumming up construction business. And me? I am working hard as ever, and starting to learn the loan processing side of the business.

So today there is actually zero drama. Zilch. Zippo. Nada.

Which ultimately begs the question:

Why the hell isn't anyone posting blogs lately??

Did I miss the part where they put all the dramatic people together on one ship and sent them off to a deserted island?

Because I so totally would have Christened that ship...

Friends...Like a Benign Growth You Grow Accusmtomed to...

I know I can be a little harsh, and I usually tell it like it is. As most of my friends can attest to (no way).
So EVEN THOUGH I have my period for the first time in oh, say, seven years, and I got to see how broke my transmission was (think philips screw stripped completely so that when you try to turn it the screwdriver just twists freely in your hand) AND a six year old who has a nervous breakdown when grandpa eats the last pork chop she was promised, I am going to write about something fun today.

Probably the most overlooked people in my life at the moment:

My friends.

Today's blog is brought to you by one of my closest friend's, by special request. This is a friend who can talk to you about everything from shoes, to boyfriends, to family, to the color and regularity of your doo (a perfect 10 today, in case you were wondering).

Hi Whitney. Bet you thought you would never see yourself mentioned on here.

And I want to take just a second to say how proud I am of her for finally making the turn on her life, and getting her *doo* straightened out. It's about damn time.

She wanted me to blog yesterday about a memory of the two of us together, however, I run into a brick wall when I try to think of one specific thing that stands out.

There was the time we took over Junior High against all odds (we were never the popular pretty girls) to become Student Council, and put a budget together that included a rocking sound system, and threw one of the BEST school dances there ever was. Even to this day I remember that dance, and feel proud to have been a part of it.

Or, there was the time we filmed a movie about mummification for one of our classes, and used her little sister as the mummy, and taped in all in night vision (which I will have you know was a HUGE thing back then... unfortunately, it didn't stop you from tripping over stuff in the dark. Come to think of it... I wonder what happened to that movie?)

Speaking of movies, we made several of them one year including one where she spit soda all over me.

The memories are priceless and many, including the Josh Thomas and Steven Barnett summers spent at some guy's lake (I still have no idea who he was, but he never objected to us being there), to attempting to kill a daddy long leg spider in the basement with a step stool that went awry, to doing a tequila prom in a limo (don't ask...).


If I HAVE to pick one, one of my favorite ones to tell is this: (WARNING: CHEESY MOMENT AHEAD)

Everyone knows by now if you have followed my blog that I had my daughter when I was seventeen. I went through so much, and lost a lot of people I thought were my friends, but Whitney was always there to help me be excited about the life inside of me. And the day my daughter Rebekah was born, there she was, hopping up and down on one foot and then the other outside the delivery room door NOT so patiently awaiting her chance to come in. Of course, had I known she had been standing there for an hour, I would have let her come in, but the nurse didn't even tell me until after I was cleaned up. You should have seen the look on her face, she just stood over me beaming like SHE was the mom! And of course, Whitney's mom Terri worked in the hospital still so she was downstairs in a flash to give Bekah her first bath.

If any of you readers ever gets the chance to be a mom, you will know as well as I do that its what happens when your child comes in the world that matters the most, and whoever is there will leave the longest lasting impression, whether it is good or bad. There are always horror stories, and sad stories, and stories about what you would have done differently.

But I can honestly say that as far as my friends go, you are on the top.

So break out your gold polish, Whit, because I think your halo is starting to tarnish.

Thursday, May 21, 2009

A Matter of Medical Opinion

How far is too far for the government to reach?

In the case of a 13 year old boy with cancer, the mother has been placed in contemt of court and a warrant issued for her arrest because she is refusing medical treatment for her sons lymphoma that is supposedly highly treatable. She is plastered all over the news right now for fleeing her state (they suspect she could be headed for Mexico) because she doesn't want her son to go through chemotherapy. He went through it once, and his parent's considered it torturous, and wanted to seek holistic medicine instead. Now the doctors have come after them saying she can't do that, and her son NEEDS to be treated NOW because of the condition worsening. So she picked up her son and fled.
Or, how about the parents under scrutiny right here in Wisconsin for praying for God to heal their daughter who ended up ultimately dying from diabetes that went untreated. They are going to jail. Is that right?
How far can you go with your beliefs before someone steps in and overrules your decision as a parent?
Isn't it our responsibility as parents to make sure our children are as healthy and cared for as possible?
Are we violating that responsibility if we decide to forgo modern medicine in place of prayer healing?
Is it right that the aforementioned parents are being punished by our government for doing what they think is best for their children?
I mean, its not one of those cases you hear about where the mom stuffed a kid in the microwave, or a baby was left in a dumpster, so why are they comparing it to that?
I would love to hear your opinions on this readers- which side of the fence are you on? Should they be punished, or praised?
Are you one who believes the government should stay out of our family lives?
Or are you on who believes faith can only be an excuse for so much?
I will tell you this:
I believe that when it comes to my own children, no one can screw them up like their mother.
Now where was my doctors pager number again....

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

Summer Tearjerker

There are two books that I am really excited about right now.

For those of you that know me well, Jodi Picoult has easily been my paperback love interest in the last year. I have read every book she has written, and haven't met a story I haven't liked.

But another author has captured my attention- Lisa See. If you haven't read anything by her, NOW is your chance.

You have to pick up Snow Flower and the Secret Fan, which is one of my all time favorites. It is about life through the eyes of a young girl in China during the footbinding ages, who becomes sames (sister-like best friends) with another young girl. The book chronicles their lives from childhood to adulthood, through marriage, children, and ultimately, death.

One of her other books that I like is called Peony in Love. That book is a story about how love conquers all, even death.

Now, on May 26th, she has a new book coming out called Shanghai Girls. It takes place in a more modern China than the China she has previously written about. Can't wait!

Also, for anyone affected by the war in Iraq (or any war, for that matter) you NEED to pick up A Journal For Jordan by Dana Canedy. I haven't read it yet, but the reviews and the excerpt are amazing.

This is a story about a father to be who leaves for Iraq, and who's fiance makes him keep a journal for his son while he is away on active duty. The journal becomes his way of speaking to his son when he can't be there with him. He is eventually killed in a road side bombing, but sends the journal back to his fiance, who turned it into a beautiful memoir for their son.

Those are the books on my list for this summer, and while I might not have a Kindle *cough* Rachel *cough* you can bet I will do just fine reading them the old fashioned way.

They found Francie's ex-husband last night in Hoyt Park (west side of Madison, by West High School).
However, a lot cheaper for the taxpayers such as myself.
My co-worker told me she saw the comment I left on NBC 15's website.
It was something along the lines of I hope they find him and take him out one limb at a time.
Although I settled for hoping he felt absolutely terrified in his last minutes knowing he was surrounded by the SWAT team, helicopters, and every canine unit Madison had.
Sometimes life isn't what you expect, but you can expect to be surprised.
Point in case:
I have two beautiful children that I would do anything for, and a husband who loves me unconditionally.
Did I think this is how my life would turn out?
Not really.
Do I regret that?
Am I happy and fullfilled?

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

Shoes Buyer's Annonymous

Grab a pen and paper and take note:

Life is fragile.

On Saturday, a woman by the name of Francine Weber was murdered right outside her apartment building in Fitchburg. This is someone who was a receptionist at the clinic in my hometown that I used to see on a monthly basis, and always looked forward to seeing my girls. Random murder? No. Apparently it was her ex-husband, who had been telling the bartender at Wildcat Lanes in Verona that he was going to go on a rampage and shoot his wife, and that he had plenty of guns to boot.

Steven Weber. Look this guy up on CCAP, he has a nasty record including choking/strangulation of his wife, child abuse (he punched and kicked his 17 year old daughter until she threw up), and disarming a peace officer. AND- this is really the kicker here- he was out on $500 bail.

WELL! THANK YOU VERYFUCKINGMUCH WISCONSIN. I guess that I can go home and kick the living crap outta my husband (as tempting as that gets sometimes, lets face it, I am not a violent person) and as long as I have $500 in my pocket I am a-okay.

I really feel like I can sleep safe at night knowing you public defenders are doing all you can to keep this gutter trash off of the streets.

The funeral is still pending, but I won't be surprised when hundreds of people show up. She was really well liked in the community. RIP Francie. You will be missed.

And when they find your ex, lets hope they take him out- one sorry damn limb at a time.


Captiol punishment has sat idle for far too long.

And me?

The most exciting thing to happen to me lately is I bought a super cute pair of shoes at Kohls the other day. And decided NOT to wear them today because they are slightly uncomfortable.

So there sits another new pair of shoes I will probably wear once and then have my husband whine to me because I let them take up space in the closet.

If you read my blog tomorrow and I am complaining about my feet, please use this entry as a reference.

My feet hate me.

Monday, May 18, 2009

Fried, Baked, or Broiled?

I told my mom I absolutely wasn't going to the party Saturday. No way. Not going to be there, no how.

So, I'm at the party Saturday, and it went pretty much as I expected it to. And Chad? He is outta his flippin' gourd.

He felt it necessary to explain to me that the reason he didn't want to do my "Get To Know The Couple" survery was because he thought my questions were stupid. Maybe he didn't use that exact word, but it would have saved him a lot of mindless talking if he would have just said that and left it at that. But no. He had to tell me that he didn't think anyone would get the questions right. Sort of the point, no? Well, when he started saying that he didn't appreciate that I left it until the last minute, I interrupted him immediately to give my view on the subject.

"Well, sorry, but your PARTY wasn't even ON until the last minute."

Big mistake. Because THEN it became about how my sister wasn't looking for a job, and how he wasn't going to cancel the wedding- because that was "his girl"- but he WOULD push the date back until she grew up a little. And how she can't live at his apartment for free, blah blah.

That's about when I stopped listening and decided this guy was completely bananashit.

And I did illicit an eye roll from my mother when I blatantly asked my sister if I was going to need Chad's approval for anything bride related- i.e. the shower or bacherlorette party.

Because maybe SHE likes to be controlled, but anyone that knows me knows I come out swinging when you try to put me "in my place".

My husband sure didn't marry me for my ability to roll over and take it.

Speaking of my husband, you should have seen his face last night.

Charlotte has a cold. And last night she was hacking and coughing. It was rough. Dad was up, mom was up, Charlotte was miserable. Dad propped up the mattress, and rocked her to sleep only for her to wake up again a few hours later. Dad refused to put her in bed with us, citing that he didn't want her to think she could sleep there every night.

Mom was finally fed up- and when Dad fell asleep, she scooped up the Charlie girl and plopped her in bed with her.

Charlie slept like- well, like a log I guess.
It was worth it.

And mom is telling dad how to make Charlie feel better.

"So, if she is still really stuffy in the morning, I want you to put her in her bouncy seat in the bathroom, turn the shower on as hot as it goes, and let the bathroom fog up."

Kevin was horrified. And I was mystified.

"You want me to what???"

I re-explained myself, and he visibly relaxed.

"Good God, I thought you were telling me to put HER in the shower and turn it on as hot as it goes."

Okay, so for a few seconds my husband thought I went off the deep end and told him to boil our baby.

This week is off to a most excellent start.

Friday, May 15, 2009


Kristi is a little *confused* right now.
Scratch that. Kristi is a lot *confused* right now.
See, Kristi offered her sister a truce yesterday. And Kristi has been going out of her way the last 24 hours to put something together for Carla's engagement party tomorrow. So Kristi called Carla tonight with her idea, which was a get to know the bride and groom questionnaire, and Carla thought it was cool. But Chad. Chad thought it was NOT so cool. And Chad got mad. And Carla told me that he was upset with me because I didn't ask permission to do this at their party.

And Kristi said (a little bit hurt, but it's okay) No Big Deal. Really. Don't Make It Into A Whole Thing.

And suddenly Chad tried to call her phone. And her husbands phone. Both of which are too dead to talk on.
So Kristi sent Carla a text asking her what was up, and Carla doesn't answer.

It's been 45 minutes, and still no answer.

And Kristi has this very uneasy feeling in her gut...

Its that feeling Kristi usually gets before something really bad happens.

So Kristi is hoping she is wrong for once. Please.

The Markism Way of Life

Markism: A phrase or word coined by the Man Himself, Mark Christen. Sometimes used to describe an action, other times used for no reason at all. Often does not make sense to the unsuspecting victim, and can cause the victim to attempt to correct said user of the Markism. Use cautiously, but never seriously.

So my dad rigged up the racing trailer to pick my car up last night, and I stood in the driveway and watched him leave. I am now for the next 10 hours or so a proud Pontiac owner. And she is a sexy car! You have to press the brakes extra hard because she just doesn't want to slow down.

I slogged my way home, and crapped out upstairs on my bed watching Erin Brockovich until I was sure that an hour had passed. Then I called my mom.

"Hey mom. Did you guys get the car in the trailer okay?"

"Yep. Dad drove it in. Well, sort of."

"Did he say whats wrong with it?"

Now, dear listeners, this is when the Markism comes into play. If any of you have ever been lucky enough to be in the presence of a Markism, you will know that under the right circumstance you can laugh for the next five days or so. He is just that witty. This time, however, I didn't laugh.

"Sure. Your dad said your transmission is hamburger."

OH. Well HELL. No wonder it won't run. Thanks for clearing that all up for me.

And thanks. Because now I can't go to McDonalds for lunch without crying about my car.

Pity party at my place, 7 o'clock, BYOK.

(That's bring your own kleenex. Call it a Kristism. Or maybe a Pissedoffism would be more appropriate.)

Thursday, May 14, 2009

Back On?

Here is the transcript:


OK so i finally talked with Chad. N yes the party is going on... Just not sure if its at moms


No party.


What? Yes there is a party


Are you insane?


No. We talked. He realized he over reacted. Things happen


You can't do that to people carla. Marriage is not a joke.


I know it isnt


Doesn't seem like it


Well then fine. Whatever. U know i was being glad that him n i were actually able to talk about things n get it straightened out...


Thats a start for sure. I really suggest you rethink the counseling


We are actually


Good. And I think you should just postpone the party.

No response.

Me again:

I know your pissed at me but think about the message you are sending people. You want them to be happy for you right? Everyone is pretty upset right now.

Still no response. My twenty-one year old sister is giving me the cold shoulder.

Pretty sure I am soon to be retired from my matron of honor title...

Stay tuned.

Kristi's Epic Fail

epic fail: eh-pik fay-il

Similar to fail, but at an even larger, more pitiful scale. Sometimes so pitiful or pathetic, some will either sympathize that person or will not say anything, due to the fail being so large that words cannot describe it.

Say hello to my tin can. Yesterday I turned it on and it was making this weird clunking noise. My co-workers immediately got involved.

Jason rolled up his sleeves and moved the car forward and back with the hood up.

Patrick stood back and observed. Not before throwing in his two cents however.

"I know what's wrong with it. It's a Buick."

Don't worry, I whacked him one.

Well I made it home fine, and the noise stopped. Fast forward to me on my way to work this morning. It was stuttering at stop lights, and I am praying to the Buick God to please-PLEASE let me make it through this intersection... Lady luck is on my side, and I made it to work without a problem.

Then I get in it twenty minutes ago, and it is making that noise again...and stops. I sit in silence for a moment, and determine the car is still running... (I thought it had stopped, but no, the noise just stopped). So I shift into reverse. And the car rolls forward. I step on the gas (still in reverse) and the car revs up...and moves forward.


There was a phone call involved then. To my dad, the most brilliant mechanic on the planet.

I describe the whole problem, and I just KNEW his genius would work for me. It is quiet for a minute, and then...

"Hmmm. That's not good."

I can always count on him.

So I am moving into the bank. If you need me, you can find me here, huddled in the bathroom, feeling sorry for myself and this day full of epic fail.

Leave a message after the beep.


Beverly Hills

There is this scenario that plays out in my mind.

I am walking through the grocery store when I run into Rob Patterson. After much ignoring on my part, he approaches me and says, "Don't you know who I am?".

And me, being the witty person I am, says, "Oh, I'm sorry, was I supposed to be star stuck?"

And he instantly falls madly in love with me. EVEN THOUGH I have a cart full of diapers and formula, and wrinkly flabby new mom skin.


I can dream, can't I?

So I am burping Charlotte last night, and Beeps comes over, and asks Charlotte if she is going to puke on me.

Charlotte picks just then to let out a hellacious burp.

"No," I say. "She is just going to burp. Like a lady. No spitting up going on here."

And I go back to watching my show, but Bekah is still intently fixed on her sister. And then I hear her whispering.

"Puke on mom, Charlie. Puke on mom."

Everyone is against me!

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

And....It's Off!

So as of this minute it's official- my sisters engagement is off.

She told me that he broke up with her because apparently going out and partying was more important than looking for a job.

Uh...yeah? And?

I'm sorry, but some part of me agrees with Chad. Actually...a rather large part of me. Should I say that? I'm her sister, right? I'm just getting tired of the poor me issue.

So, without further ado, and for your viewing pleasure, I bring you the virtual eye roll...wait for it....

Now, wasn't that worth waiting for?


I am letting it go.

Someone else can worry about it. It isn't my burden to carry any longer.

And from now on, wherever she is, I won't be.


So put that in your Playtex Nurser and drink it!

Kristi Rufener

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Nifty 50!

This is my 50th post!

Lets make it a good one...

Today is not my day.

My panty hose has a run in it. Although, I made it through three wearings before the inevitable happend. Which, I shall have you know, is a new record for me!

In other news, I have been sabotaged.

I was supposed to have lunch with my higher ups today. The big boys as I affectionately refer to them. We were scheduled at noon, but they changed the time to 11 and no one bothered to tell me. Of course Patrick is gone, so there was no one to fill in for me, and here I sit blogging about it.

AND THEN Steve is playing golf tonight so I have to cover for him and now have to work until close. Super.

Kevin talked to his dad about our Bekah vs. Haley situation, so I feel a little better about that.

What do you do when you're having a bad day? Well, I just turn to my personal cheering section:

Yay MOM!

Monday, May 11, 2009


This is how I spent my Mother's Day, by the way:

My mom, Sheila, and I went out to the farm in the black forest and uncovered four bags full of Morels.

If you don't know what a Morel is, you aren't from Wisconsin. And you don't know me very well either!!

Here is what the rage is all about:

That's right! It's NOT a googled image!! That's the largest patch I have ever found in one area. There were 15 mushrooms in that one space!


That's my battle cry.

And boy, does it echo in the woods!!

The Mommy In Me - Your Inner Ohm

SO- I am going to start out by saying a happy belated Mother's Day to the following people:

To Julie in AL- Thanks for being there throughout my pregnancy, and giving me bitching space. You may be 700 miles away, but I cherish our momship and can't wait to finally meet you in person.

To Kari in my complex- Because sometimes you need someone that sees how crazy your in-laws can be... and your OWN family too!

To my grandma Shirley- I can't imagine life without the farm.

To my grandma Sylvia- No one will ever love you like your grandchildren will.

To my aunt Donna- Because being a stepmom requires more patience and understanding than a biological mother. Because you are family. You know you can relate when people tell stories about their children, so keep fighting the good fight!

To my best friend Rachel- Because you are already a mom to so many that it is just going to be second nature to you!

To Momofonefornow- Because at the end of the day, it's all about the Bean.

And to all the other mothers out there- Because no one will ever mean more to you than the one you tuck in (or USED to tuck in) who face you used to clean with spit, who's butt you used to wipe, and who used to want to kiss you the most after an ice cream cone that seemed to cover an impossible amount of face.

And lastly, to my own mother, here is a tribute to you:

So last weekend was Mother's Day, and in honor of that here is the gift I gave my mom...

It’s eight o’clock. I have read every mothers day card on the shelf.

There are the funny ones, the charming ones, the ones with long heart-felt poems, even scratch and sniff. There aren’t any, however, that say what I am looking for.

What can you really say to a woman who is not only my mother, but a mother to 300 kids every day?

My mom is not a typical mom. I don’t have memories of the PTA mother; the one who helps with all the fundraisers, wear’s the cable knit sweaters, and is a svelte size 4.

Before you judge her on that, let me tell you what I DO remember-

I remember my mom making me laugh. I remember her teaching me how to ride a motorcycle, how to stand up for what I believe in, and how to drink Jack Daniel’s out of the bottle. She also patiently adopted every animal Carla and I brought into the house. But most of all, I remember her always being on my side when someone broke my heart, and asking me who she needed to go beat up. And who wants to hug a size 4 anyway? I would take my mom over that any day.

I can’t even tell you how many people buzzed into that Wal-mart while I was browsing, selected their card, and left. While that might be enough for most people, there wasn’t anything that said what I needed to say. There was no card to say Thank You for her most important job.

It wasn’t Thank You for being my mom. It wasn’t I Love You for being my mom. And there was no way in hell she would fall for some two page poem about how leaves change colors in the fall, but you’ll never stop being my mom blah blah blah, you get it.

What I needed to say was Thank You for being there to support me on the most important day of my life. The day I became a mom.

Being 16 and pregnant is not every mom’s dream. I am sure I can almost conjure up how she felt the day I crushed her dreams of me going to college and doing everything she didn’t get to do.

And rather than giving up on me, she was right there to hold my hand when my own daughter came into this world with her huge blue eyes. And, let’s face it; it was love at first sight.
Life is a funny, fickle thing, and ours is much like a roller coaster. Once you get on, you realize you can’t get off half way up that insanely intimidating hill. So you hang on for dear life, and if you get lucky like I did, you come to find out that you love the ride and you jump back in line at the end to do it all over again.

So for lack of words in the English language, thank you for teaching me to be the mom I am today. Thanks for all those nights you sat up with me at three in the morning to calm a cranky baby. Thanks for teaching me the best way to burp her, the best way to talk to her, and the best way to handle an owie. Which, by the way, is most definitely NOT screaming and running to pick her up, and trying to remember the number for the on call nurse.

When I look at her I am starting to understand how my being a mother is not just a product of myself; it is more of a group effort. Every moment I have been proud of her thus far can most certainly be attributed to you. Although there are times she talks back to me and I think, my my, you sound an awful lot like your Grandma Pam.

There will be days when it will be hard and I will want to give up. When that does happen, all I have to remember is that you never gave up on me. And while saying Thanks doesn’t have the meaning I really intend it to, I hope that by being the best mom I know how to will show you what I mean.

Lastly, I want you to know the immense relief and comfort I feel knowing that no matter what happens in this life, you will be there for every other important day. The day I get married, the day Bekah graduates, the day I see my own daughter become a mother. And how many people do you know actually get to say that?

So I walk out of that Wal-mart, cardless, but determined none-the-less to give you just what you deserve. And then I think, well, maybe I already have.

I love you.

Kristi Rufener

Wednesday, May 6, 2009

Speaking of dreams....

I bring you Sleepy Baby vs. 2.00:


I have been having these God awful horrible dreams lately...

In one of them, a customer of mine has breast cancer and is dying. She tells me she has ninety days to live. This is really bizarre because after I had this dream, she came to the bank and told me she had found a lump, but they were just cysts that she had drained.

In the other one, my grandma Shirley got really sick and decided to drive to the hospital. She had just said goodbye and left, and then died in a car accident on the way to the hospital. Luckily, she hasn't mentioned being sick to me, so this one didn't creep me out as much as the first one.

So- my question, faithful readers, is this:

Have you EVER had a dream or a moment when you thought something was going to happen and it did?

And I'm not talking about thinking about the phone ringing and it magically does- we have ALL had that happen...

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

For The Woman Who Has Everything...

I bring you this:

No need to thank me. Just consider it a word among friends.

If I could make one suggestion though- where is the compartment for the bio-friendly extra tiny tampon?

The Bare Breast of It

I need to openly admit a deep dark secret of mine:

Ever since Kevin and I got married, I have been subtly trying to upstage my mother in law. Before I go any further, I would like to assure my readers that I love this woman to death like she is my own mother. It's definitely NOT a personal attack; however, I think it is something that every daughter in law thinks about... Picture Everybody Loves Raymond. Sometimes I feel like everything she does is better than me, but she has been doing it longer than I have...

We house sat for them over the weekend, and during that time grilled out every day. I bought some chicken breasts and opened the spice cupboard and there were four spices staring at me. Pepper, salt, chicken buillion (what the hell??), oregano, and a sea salt grinder.


I made my first homemade lasagna two weeks ago (it was awesome), and when I knew they would be coming home last night made a pan of brownies. And not just any brownies- double fudge with chocolate pieces baked in and topped with rich fudge frosting.

Kevin and his dad both had two pieces and kept telling me how good they were. And I have to admit I was glowing a little- revelling in my one-upness...

Until she made chicken tettrazinni two days later, and totally blew me out of the water yet again.

I'm sorry if you were expecting me to say I had a secret lover or something more glamorous along those lines, but I still feel a bit guilty about this confession anyway.

We had to put Charlotte on formula this weekend as well- I can't keep up anymore. Point in case- we made her a huge bottle and she gulped it down- and rewarded me yesterday with her first giggle.

And who has time for a secret lover or second identity when your three month old lets out the loudest burp you have ever heard any being on Earth make, and coats you with an entire bottles worth of puke anyway?

I mean, who would trade that kind of living for the rush you get with five ounces of regurgatated formula squishing around between your boobs- a feeling that never entirely leaves you the rest of the day?

Certainly not I.