Olga Nordstrom

Once upon a time I broke my leg.  Right leg to be exact.  I was in 4th grade.  And at that point I became a cripple. 

Okay.  I'm exaggerating.  Due to the break of both my tibia and fibula through the growth plate I was told that it was possible that my right leg may grow faster or slower than the left.  I might end up with one leg longer than the other.  If I remember right I put on a brave face and hid my nightmarish dreams from my parents.  Heaven forbid they know that I was anticipating the following.

Olga Nordstrom.  For any of you that love Little House on the Prairie like I do you would be fully aware of the episode about Olga.  She is the local cripple girl who has one leg longer than the other.  She limps when she walks and can't run.  But don't you worry.  Charles Ingles saves the day with his brilliant carpentry and fashions her a shoe with a thick wooden sole making her short leg the appropriate length.  And then the unthinkable happens.

Yep.  Olga finally gets invited to play baseball.  And she can even run the bases!  It's a Little House miracle!

I know.  I sound crazy.  And crazy I might actually be.  But as a 10-year-old growing into a teenager and playing competitive soccer, these were the things I use to worry about.  Would my legs be uneven like Olga's?  Would I be able to run?  And with one short leg would running result in running in circles?  (Think about it!!!) 

Years later in my adult life I found a group of friends unlike any I had ever had.  I call them my Cakies.  They knew the good, bad and ugly about me, including my own 1989 Olga story.  When I found out that I would be moving 6 hours away from my Cakies they surprised me with a Going Away party where they showered me with gifts.  One of those gifts was a pair of navy blue boots with a 2x4 screwed to the bottom of the right shoe.  I would never limp again!  I would never run in circles!  I had finally found my modern day Charles Ingles! 

Truth be told I had three surgeries following the initial break of my right ankle to fix the cripple potential.  And I'm happy to say that although today my ankle is scarred and somewhat crooked, it is not distinctively shorter or longer than the other.  Little House miracles still happen today. 

Thanks to my Cakies for making me laugh at myself, and thanks to Olga for putting on a brave face and wearing a wooden shoe.  I'm pretty sure she's to thank for the idea of a wedge heel.  And for that I am also grateful.

(This post is dedicated specifically to my one and only AF.  Why you, you ask?  You know why.)

My Girls

This week has been a monumental one for me.  It marked the 10th birthday of my little Hall Monitor and also the 10th anniversary to my being inducted into parenthood.  Wow!  I don't know what is more shocking, the fact that I was entrusted with children to watch over, teach, care for, and mold into adults, or that all four of my children have actually survived this long with no broken bones.  I guess the lack of broken bones seems irrelevant with the years of therapy my babies will need in the future.

When I found out I was expecting our first child I was 20 years old and Mr. Handsome and I had only been married for about 6 months.  I came home from work to tell Handsome to which he replied, "Oh Shi..!"  Yup.  That was it.  Not the Hollywood tears and laughter and jumping around.  Not Charles Ingles spinning Caroline in his arms.  Just the big S.  I laughed and said, "Well, you'd better hurry and say something else so I can write something in the baby book."  I didn't want page 3 of baby's journal to say, Dad's first reaction when he heard the news of me was "Oh Shi..!".  To be truthful, I was thinking what Handsome so painlessly exclaimed, so I couldn't be too hard on him.  Six months into our marriage we were more worried about college and the broken dishwasher in our scummy apartment.  Children were a part of our 5 year plan not our 12 month plan.
About 9 months after the birth of our beautiful Hall Monitor we found out we were expecting another baby.  Surprise!  I know.  Don't judge.  And yes, I'm very aware of birth control.  Baby #2 was also a little girl, but with a much different personality than Ms. Hall Monitor.  Let the following illustrations explain.

On the left is how I would best describe my eldest daughter, hence the name Hall Monitor.  She is studious, organized, always carrying a bag, artistic, smart, structured, responsible, in charge, and donning a tiara whenever possible.  To the right is an illustration describing my second daugher, Lil G.  She is sassy, spunky, easy going, funny, edgy, free spirited, carefree, clever, argumentative, stubborn, and always walking the line.  Could my girls be any different? 

I can't say that every minute of everyday with these two little women is easy or drama free or even fun.  But I can honestly say that I love these little people so much and I would be lost without them.  Hall Monitor keeps me organized and on time.  Lil G keeps me on my toes and always laughing.  I love my little ladies and cherish our girl's days shopping together.  They don't happen often, but our "girl time" makes up for all the drama & hormones we endure year round and is definitely not something my boys would appreciate.  Yup.  I love my girls. 

As I've walked down memory lane this week and made my decade mark in the world of parenthood, it's safe to say that the past 10 years have been the best of my life.  Simply terrifyingly frustratingly amazing!  It's the next 10 that really scare me, and "Oh Shi.." doesn't even begin to express my feelings about teenagers.  Yes, Mom and Dad, it is payback.

How To Get Fat Faster

Mmmmmmmm.....crisp wafers....chocolate....1-2-3-4....King Size....5-6-7-8....break me off a piece of that little piece of heaven.  Or break me off 8 pieces.  Whatevs.  Four just doesn't cut it for a hormonal chocolate driven woman.  Just sayin'.  And look what I discovered when I went to open my Kit-to-the-Kat crispy wafers.

TO OPEN

Lift Flap and Tear at End

What the?  Instructions as to how I can get into my chocolate treat even faster?  Genius!

Or is it?

The way I initially took this message was, "Look, morons who are without a brain, this is how civilized people open their candy bars."  I was dumbfounded.  Really?  Do we need instructions to open our food?  I mean, true, a bag of chips can often be a little sketchy.  Do you pop it like a balloon, rip the end, or pull the two sides?  Same for the inner bag of a box of cereal.  Those suckers are compressed and glued to keep out varmints and people alike.  I usually end up reaching for scissors and cutting the bag open.  But really?  Are we that dumb that we can't at least be creative and resourceful if we can't seem to break through the Kit Kat fortress?  The way I look at it is it's a natural instinct to rip from the end.  Duh!  Thanks for stating the obvious.  And if that doesn't work, try prying the sides apart.  What?  Still no success?  Well then, use your teeth.  And if still, you find yourself hungry and without chocolate exposed, try a knife, scissors, toothpick, nail file, shark, chainsaw, hand grenade, or perhaps your brain!!! 

Because I love Kit Kat I will admit that the thoughtful instructions do contribute to a fast and flawless attack of getting fatter as quickly as possible.  There is absolutely no wasting time getting those 420 calories from the store shelf and into my thighs when I know how to do the job right.

Thank you Kit Kat.  I will never wonder or hesitate while infiltrating your beautiful red wrapper again.  You have enlightened me.