Never Underestimate the Power of Stupid

In the name of love (or pride, or a desire to not lose, or any other number of things), people can do some pretty stupid stuff. 

Case in point:  Yesterday, my family and I were spending some quality time at Martinak State Park, a lovely wooded area resting on the Choptank River, where Rashieme and I plan on getting married this summer.  This quiet state park features trees and shade and sunshine and trails and, to my daughter's delight, several playgrounds.  We were checking out each one as we had spent the day with Shieme's mom and were now just a few hours away from a meeting with a local restaurant owner, whose establishment we were checking out as a possible venue for a reception location.  Knowing we were having this meeting, I had opted to wear a sundress and cloth slip-on flats.

Being that I was dressed up, I opted out of Rashieme and Kaliah's game of tag at the first playground, which began with hysterical laughter and blissful joy and then eventually ended in tears because, much like her mommy, Kaliah does not like to lose.  We ventured on to the second playground which featured a tall spiral slide that looked promising, but unfortunately was not all that slippery, and Kaliah slid down with a dismal look on her face that made it clear that she'd rather be practicing fractions.  So off we went to the third location, where we discovered a completely in-tact piece of playground equipment that featured several different entrances/exits:  slides, monkey-bar style extensions, a rock climbing wall, etc.

Kaliah immediately came up with the idea of an obstacle course.  She explained that we would have to each take a turn using each of the "exits" and whoever could successful exit all avenues of the equipment the fastest would be declared the winner.  I certainly wasn't dressed for it, but what can I say?  One should never underestimate the power of stupid.  I'd like to claim that I did it out of my love for my child and desire to bond with her and spend quality time making memories.

But the truth is, I probably just wanted to win.

For those of you who don't know me, I am stupid competitive.

So her daddy yelled go, and off we went.  On the very first small slide, I struggled to keep my skirt covering everything it should cover, then scrambled back to the steps of the main entrance to navigate the next exit.  Despite my shaky start, Kaliah and I were neck and neck.  My long legs worked to my advantage, as did my height, when it came to jumping from certain points instead of climbing down.

We were maybe two minutes in, both running out of breath, both laughing and scampering about, and I was down to one remaining obstacle.  But first I had to re-enter the equipment.  Seeing that my daughter was already on the main entrance, (the steps), and deciding to go around her and cut in front of her, I opted to climb a short slide instead of race around, putting myself behind her.  As I jumped on the slide and began striding upwards, I immediately realized the error of my ways, as my cloth shoes had absolutely no traction and I began slipping back down, like a surfer skimming a wave.  I tried to stop the momentum, but somehow my legs got tangled up and I went sailing over backwards, falling with a resounding thud, as I crashed down on my legs, back, and shoulder, head clunking down into the stupid wood shavings that always line these kinds of play ground.

"Alright, you're done," Daddy the referee announced, shaking his head as he strode over to help me up.  Meanwhile Kaliah was shrieking in amazement and I was laughing so hard I was almost crying.  Rashieme pulled me to my feet, and both of them went to work brushing the wood chips from my sweater, dress, and hair.

"We've got a meeting in an hour.  'What happened to her?' 'Playground accident?'" Rashieme demanded, rolling his eyes.

"But I was doing so good," I protested.  "I think I was winning."

Clearly, I wasn't.  Not after the Cloth-Shoe-Sliding-Board-Fall.

Lesson Learned:  When you're trying to beat the pants off your kid at some outdoor activity, wear sneakers.

And maybe a helmet.

And something other than a dress with granny panties underneath.

For the record, Rashieme and Kaliah went next.  With the aid of sneakers and pants (as opposed to a skirt), Rashieme beat her by a landslide.  He didn't even need the helmet.

Some Kaliahisms to Get You Over the Hump...

Well, Hump Day is upon us, as are several inches of snow here in Slower Lower Delaware.  Again.

I have no flip or humorous comments to offer concerning the weather.  I have decided, though, that Old Man Winter is much more to blame for this than is Mother Nature.  Men are much more stubborn, and this is The Winter That Never Ends, apparently.

So, what to do when you are snowed in for the four BILLIONTH time with your child or your children?

Treasure them for the joy that they are, of course.

It's either that, or, you know, allow them to slowly but surely drive you insane.

Just kidding.

Mostly.

I am blessed to have an amazing daughter.  Still, sometimes the things that come out of her innocent mouth are quite ridiculous. So on a snowy spring day with not much else to do, I present, for your entertainment:

Kaliahisms.

Actual sayings by our eight-going-on-nine-year-old daughter, Kaliah.

1.  My favorite so far this year:  "It only takes one person to mind the business."  I can't remember the exact context of this quote, but she said it shortly after New Year's and Rashieme and I bring it up frequently.  And true:  if the whole world had Kaliah's attitude, how much more peaceful would planet Earth be?

2.  While cooking breakfast for Rashieme:  "These are going to be the best eggs Dad's ever tasted.  Except for the ones he makes.  They're way better."  Hash tag, Chef Problems.  At least we tried.

3.  After Kaliah finally admitted to forgetting about a cup of apple juice that the cat consequently knocked over:
     Me:  "All you had to do was say, I'm sorry, Mom.  I forgot."
     Rashieme:  "Yeah.  Instead of making a bunch of excuses."  Looks my way. (Guilty as charged, 
     by the way and FYI).  "Wonder who she  gets that from?"
     Kaliah:  "From you, Dad.  You just gave an excuse."
     Rashieme:  "No, I didn't.  Kaliah, do you even know what an excuse is?  Or are you just talking?"
     Me:  "Wonder who she gets that from."

4.  "That dumb cat is so smart!"

5.  Accompanied by the picture below and followed by evil laughter:  "This is the perfect snowball.  It's glorious!"

 

Happy Hump Day, Er'rybody! Don't worry, warmer days are coming!  (Aren't they?  I mean, like, don't they have to be?)

I am From...

A good one for #ThrowbackThursday...

My "I Am From" Poem.

Composed on my last birthday.

Originally shared as a note on Facebook, 8/30/13.


Inspired by readings from Ms. Kim Patrick's Young Writers' Open Mic, and dedicated to all the people who have made me into who I am...

I am from golden days spent wiggling toes in sun baked sand, and the taste of salt that lingers after reluctantly saying farewell to the sparkling waves, dragging boogie boards and plastic buckets the half mile trek away from the beckoning Atlantic.
I am from Daddy's big laugh as he thrust me high above his head to do Super Girl, flashes of pine trees whirling by above us.
I am from "If I wanted to build my house in a field, I would have built it in a field!" accompanied by a satisfied nod when Mommom complained to him about those pines.
I am from the comfort of cherry flavored tobacco, snuggled up in my Poppop's generous lap--the warmest, safest place to lay one's head at Mommom's house.
I am from "Welcome to the Family of the People Who Love the Lord" sung by warbling, honest voices in the tiny Baptist church on Rt. 54, and the tears that stung as a teenager as I tried to form those words, not understanding why I cried.
I am from "If you want to be baptized, you have to be nicer to your brother."
I am from elaborate hand-stitched Halloween costumes and my mother's smiles, crispy bacon and hot scrapple on a Saturday morning, cartoons blaring in the background from one of the three lonely channels the satellite provided.
I am from Friday nights under the lights and round-off, toe touch, cheer!  Green and Gold and the swelling victorious instruments blasting out "Da-da-da-da-da, hey!" beneath starry October skies.
I am from the love of my life staring at me in a high school chorus class, tossing my music on the floor or playfully touching my side, my shoulder.... tingles that brought back smiles hours and years later.
I am from dreams of getting off the Eastern Shore, palm trees of North Florida swaying under cloudless blue skies and college life with my best friend, who went 800 miles away with me after forming a playground friendship by the sliding boards in second grade.  I am from going back to where you came from, and so is she.
I am from a bustling, vibrant, welcoming church, filled with thousands of people who love Jesus and each other.  A church that grows and changes and laughs, while staying true to the scriptures.
I am from "Thank You," as my love's beautiful brown eyes fall on me in the hospital bed, our little Rose cradled contently in his arms.
I am from "She won't look like this when we see her again," and his hand on my shoulder as we hold our youngest in the oh-so-soft blanket--the only thing I will ever buy for her.
I am from never look back, or they'll see you as weak, and the thudding of sneakers on pavement as my eyes search for the finish line.
I am from rejection after rejection, sprinkled with glimmers of hope from agents who praise my writing ability, gently admitting my novel is not quite right for them.
I am from all eyes on me at open mics, and laughter and tears and comments that urge me to sit down and begin typing again.
I am from Dr. Puma's barely legible "I expect to see your name in print some day" scrawled across the bottom of my final memoir turned in for Non-fiction class.
I am from believing.

You Know You'e From Slower Lower If...

It's a Winter Wonderland out there today!

I sort of called it.  Well, I guess we all did.  The weather people got it right this time.  Which I'm impressed with.  I get that there's a lot of uncertainty in forecasting, and that it's not an exact science, but sometimes, I get downright irate with the local weather guys.  I feel like if they were held accountable like teachers are, there might be some more accurate weather predictions going on.  Can you imagine?  A state test for weathermen?  I say, go for it.  I mean, why not?  We spend billions of dollars testing the crap out of our children.  Maybe we could share the love by testing the competency of a grown up or two.  My vote is to start with the people who are telling us what to expect every day.  When they're wrong (which, sorry, weather people, is pretty often), everybody who cared enough to turn on the TVs or check their smartphones to dress for the occasion ends up feeling stupid. (And sometimes, too cold.  Or hot.)

If your kid gets a math problem wrong, at least, in general, she's only impacting herself.

Anyway, I digress.  One weather service I'm particularly fond of was started by a former student of mine, a Delmarva local who ALWAYS passed his state tests.  Delmar Weather tends to be more reliable than any other weather source I know of... and during intense weather events, they provide frequent, helpful updates.

So as my students were discussing the impending storm yesterday, I smiled, and told them that I was sure we would be off tomorrow.  I had checked Delmar Weather, had great faith in their predictions, and, as I know that Sussex County is incapable of dealing with even half an inch of snow on the ground, I figured we'd shut down for the duration.

"That's not what Ms. ***** says," commented one student.

"Ms. ***** isn't from here," I smiled.  "I've lived here longer than you guys have been alive.  I'm telling you, we're not going to have school tomorrow.  I'll see you next week."

So, I'd brag about getting it right--I already told my students they could say I told them so when they finally saw me again, which, for all we know, might be February--but really, it's not surprising.  I'm not picking on Sussex County here.  I LOVE that we have no idea what to do when it snows.  It's kind of our thing.  Dusting on the ground, two hour delay.  Stuff on the road?  Stay home until further notice.  It's quite awesome.

So this thought had me thinking about other things I love about Sussex County.  Things that separate the true locals from the transplants.  No offense is intended to either locals or tourists or new residents... just the musings of a born-and-bred country girl (which, Rashieme confirmed to me the other day, I most certainly am, no matter how I try to avoid it) from good ole Slower Lower Delaware.

And so, I present...

You Know You're From Slower Lower If...

• You are completely aware of the origins of scrapple, and you continue to eat it for breakfast on a regular basis.
• You drank Dogfish Head beer before they went nationwide.
• Your education or that of your children was impacted by thousands of hours of lost instruction due to fog delays.
• Beach fries (either D.B.'s or Thrashers) are considered their own food group.
• The smell of chicken manure in the spring and summer time doesn't offend you.  You've grown so used to it you barely notice.
• You knew what Punkin Chunkin was before they put it on TV.
• You've ever had someone from another area of the country ask you what state Delaware is in.
• 30-50% of the male student body population missed school for the first day of hunting season in any given year.
• You've ever worked in the retail or restaurant industry at the beach in the summer time, only to have a tourist ask you where you go for the rest of the year.
• You inadvertently killed upwards of ten pet hermit crabs throughout the course of your childhood.
• You don't drive on Rt. 26 in the summer time, because the commuting time from one end of the road to the other goes from 8 minutes in the off season to a minimum of 38 minutes (and often longer) when the tourists are in town.

Can you think of any others?  Comment below!

#ProudToBeFromDelaware