Mama Bear at the Movies

This holiday season has been one of shopping, eating, and movie seeing. We took the kids to a couple of movies and I really enjoyed adoring Robert Downey, Jr.'s hair, quirky personality, and wit. I also admired Tom Cruise's Ray Banned face, stunts, and smarts. Studs, I tell ya. Both of them, pure studs.

Our family enjoys a good movie complete with stadium seating, gifted movie tickets, and crowds galore.

What I don't enjoy is the occasional doofus who sits in front of one of my children and turns around to tell my child to quit kicking his chair.

Doofus: (Turning around) "Quit kicking my chair."

Me: (leaning over to Payton who is 3 seats away) "Did you kick his chair?"

Payton: Shaking his head "no".

Me: Settling back in to enjoy Tom and his chiseledness - is that a word?

Ten minutes later...

Doofus: (Turning around) "Quit kicking my chair!"

Me: (Leaning over to Payton who is three seats away) "Payton, are you kicking this guy's chair?"

Payton: Looking shocked and shaking his head "no".

Me: (to the doofus in a loud whisper) "He's not kicking your chair. His legs aren't long enough to reach your chair. Leave him alone and turn around and watch the movie!"

Doofus: Turned around and watched the movie for the rest of the evening.

Me: (Heart pounding out of my chest leaning over to Kourtni): "Keep your legs very still, I don't want to pick another fight!"

Yeah, I'm a grizzly mama bear when it comes to defending my children. Don't mess with me, especially in a dark movie theater cuz I will. take. you. on.

Tom Cruise has definitely worn off on me. Sheesh.

"Don't you be messin' wit our momma."

Houston, we have a concussion...

A couple of weeks ago, I picked Payton and a couple of his buddies up from a jumpy-bouncy-flippy-how-can-insurance-companies-let-this-happen-place. He and I made eye contact when I walked in the door and I could tell something was wrong with his face. As I got closer to him, I realized his nose was the shape of a 'J' and his eyes were red from tears. Um, what the &*$# happened, only son with a perfect nose of mine??? Long story short, he had done a double flip (it was a double flip, Mom.) and his knee made contact with his little perky nose. I'm not one to remain calm when it comes to accidents happening to my kids. Nope. I scurried him to the car, got on the phone with Bill who told me to call Jeff - our brother/brother-in-law Physician Assistant. I was prepared and ready to hyperventilate as I drove toward the hospital to have his little sniffer checked out when Jeff told me not to. He would check him the next day at Thanksgiving dinner. Needless to say, I was a mess the rest of the night and kept telling Payton to come look at me. Yeah, I know, I'm a little obsessive about this only boy child of mine. He couldn't breathe very well for the next week but the swelling went down and now his little schnoz is the shape of a mild lower case 'j'... Pretty sure he didn't break it after all, but it sure got me worked up and I still ask him to come and look at me so I can determine if there is any "movement".

Fast forward 3 weeks, new situation, new sport, different child:

Bill, Pate, and I walked in to the gym to see Kourtni's basketball game, but she wasn't on the court. She had gotten a head to her nose within the first 13 seconds of the varsity game and was on the sideline with an ice pack ON HER NOSE. Sheesh. What is it with these kids of mine and their noses??

Engage freak out mode for this momma. Great, just great. Another possible broken nose in the Ball household. But it was worse. Much worse than a broken nose. Poor Kourt had to be escorted out of the gym by the trainer because there was evidence that she had suffered a concussion from the rock hard noggin of the player who head butted my daughter. I waited for her to come back to the gym. I waited and waited and asked Bill if I should go to her rescue...he said no. Wait, just wait. Pretty soon the Athletic Director climbed the bleachers to where we were sitting and told us I needed to come with him because our daughter had suffered a concussion. Serious stuff. Especially in the state of Idaho. Within the past couple of years there have been major steps taken to protect young athletes who have had concussions. Kourtni was put through a battery of cognitive tests while she was laying on the training table. Her pupils were tracked, questions about months of the year and scores of previous games were asked along with a myriad of other questions to test her cognition. Two weeks minimum away from playing her favorite sport. No running allowed, no "thinking" recommended, no driving, no sports watching on TV, no high school basketball game attending. All in all - a mellow weekend was prescribed for our Kourt. This was all very concerning and I was a little afraid for her well being until I heard Kourtni say, "I just want to punch the girl who did this in the face." That's my girl. I knew she was ok.

She still isn't practicing with the team; instead doing 30 minutes of monotonous stationary bike riding until she gets the clear from our local hospital. It's been a pain for Kourtni. She wants to play. Her team has been plagued with injuries, and she wants to get in some "ballin' time"!

Better safe than sorry though. Even though she really likes the black eye she's sporting, we want Kourtni to leave high school with as many brain cells as she had when she entered! Oh, and her nose is just as button-like as ever, by the way.

My Yearly Addiction

It happens once a year. I make my nemesis.
My "crack".
My addiction for a day.
My buttery, corn syrupy, brown sugary, molassesy (is that a word?) confection.

Ah, yes, it is my love. It is what makes my legs squish out more when I sit down. It is what makes my belly hang over my belt with more abandon. It is what makes my face look like Alvin the Chipmunk. It is what makes the butt part of my jeans fit a little bit tighter. It is...

the dreaded

C A R M E L C O R N!

I look forward to this treat all year. I throw all my health food crazed notions to the wind on this day, and I indulge with a capital "I". Yes, people, I am an addict of crunchy carmel crazed goodness.

I have a great recipe and I'm not afraid to use it. At any other time of the year I would laugh hysterically if you asked me to consume even a fourth of what I ate today. I would scoff at the notion that corn syrup - alas, even the high fructose variety - would enter my body. And the butter, oh, the butter. I am not afraid of the vast amounts of butter on carmel corn day. I laugh at it in the face as I unpeel four cubes of the greasy stuff to put on the stove to melt into oblivion in my delicious concoction.

The fifth, sixth, and seventh batch. I've eaten almost the whole pan with the green spoon in it...
I'm good like that - er, actually BAD like that.

I'll pay for it tomorrow, and the next day, and when I want to wear my skinny jeans, and especially when I get the courage to step on to the bathroom scales. BUT...I'll run harder, longer, I'll work out with more gusto, and I'll have amazing memories knowing that I had a day full of bliss with my beloved carmel corn confection.

Payton was in his happy place while I was in mine.

I did share some of it.

Awwwww...

Bill on the phone to Payton: "It's time to come home, Payton, we're going to the Christmas party."

Payton: "I really don't want to go."

Friends in the background: "Don't go, we're not going, don't go!"

Payton: "Do I have to go?"

Bill: "Well, we're eating dinner there, what will you eat if you don't go?"

Payton: "I don't know, I'll find something."

Bill: "OK, you don't have to, you can stay home."

Payton: "Does Mom want me to go?"

Bill: "She'd like you to come with us."

Payton: "OK, I'll be right there then. I'll go. Be right home."

Isn't that the cutest, sweetest thing you've ever heard a son say to/about his mother? I'm so glad I have a boy - a great kid who still kisses me good-bye when I drop him off at school, in front of the jr. high, where 7th, 8th, and 9th graders are walking into the building acting all cool and whatnot. Yep, that's my Patey and I'll take as many loves as this boy is willing to shell out to his mother!