funny stuff that happens | Page 20

The Campout

August 17, 2009 by Kelli

On Friday, Lee bought a tent. For some time now, we’ve talked about wanting to campout with the kids. I have great memories growing up of camping with my family and I wanted to create similar memories for my children.

So, with a little help from some very excited kiddos, Lee pitched a tent in our backyard. We figured that was the best place to try a first campout in case we needed to bail in the night. But we did not need to worry! The kids did fantastic. They had a ball. We ate S’mores, put a movie on the garage, let them play until well into the darkness with the neighbor girl, then hosed them off and tucked them into their sleeping bags.

They fell asleep around 10:30 and slept all night! I was very proud of them. Lee, of course, slept in the tent with them. I did not…

Not because I didn’t want to, ahem, but I wasn’t comfortable with Landon asleep in the house by himself and we don’t own a monitor anymore so I worried he might wake up. I can’t say I was overly diappointed, though, when Lee stumbled in the house Saturday morning with a sore back and circles under his eyes.

It went so well that this Friday, weather permitting, we’ll do it again. Only this time we have scheduled Sloan’s very first sleepover so he and two friends will sleep in the tent. Because we’re gluttons for punishment, I guess. Lee will sleep with them, of course – only this time, I think he’s using an air mattress!

Enjoy…

Daddy pitching the tent.

So excited...

It's up!

Much fun was had by all

S'Mores

Tia thoroughly enjoyed hers. Who's surprised?

Time for bed

Landon and Mommy slept well in the house...

Pancake breakfast in the tent

It was a fun way to “end” our summer vacation. Today is school orientation and tomorrow is the first day. Stay tuned for a weepy mom post sometime tomorrow. I know…you can hardly wait.

Filed Under: Family, funny stuff that happens, Kids, Life, summer fun Tagged With: camping with children

He-ey Wait a Minute Mr. Postman!

August 13, 2009 by Kelli

Several times a week for the last month or so, when Sloan is home, he’s run out the door as the mailman came by to collect the mail. I haven’t paid much attention to this – I’ve just assumed he likes having this little responsibility and I’ve been grateful to him for it.

Yesterday afternoon, however, I got a further glimpse into this amazing little boy I get to call my son. Sloan and I were enjoying a rare moment of quiet together on the front porch when the mailman drove up. Sloan leapt to his feet and said, “Oh, Herman!”

As he raced down the driveway, I wondered what on earth he meant by “Herman.” Then I heard him call out, “Hey Mr. Herman!” as the mail truck came to a stop.

Our kind old mailman leaned out the window and replied, “Well hey there Mr. Sloan!” He handed Sloan our bundle of mail, then he and Sloan proceeded to talk for several minutes. I just sat on the porch and marveled at my son’s ability to engage this man in conversation. I’m a grown woman and I’m not even that good at talking to strangers. And here is my 6-year-old, sharing life with the mailman.

It was so sweet and tender to watch Sloan talk with Herman and to see the delight in Herman’s eyes. And I felt convicted as I realized that my kindegartner is better at showing the love of Jesus than his stodgy old mom.

After about 5 minutes, Sloan waved good-bye to Herman saying, “Have a great day delivering mail, Mr. Herman!”

“Okay, Mr. Sloan,” Herman replied. “I’ll see you again soon.”

As he walked up and handed me the mail, Sloan said, “That’s Herman. He lives in Afton, Missouri. I like him.”

I’m proud to be Sloan’s mom. Some days are really, really difficult. He is a passionate child, which can lend itself to passionate responses, both negatively and positively.

But Sloan is a lover of people. He genuinely loves to be with others and he has an uncanny ability to make others feel loved. He’s so much like his daddy in that regard.

Needless to say, I was very proud of him yesterday. It’s amazing what we can learn from our children when we take the time to observe the positive qualities they possess. Because days can be difficult with Sloan, I sometimes forget to stop and recognize all the goodness and sweetness that God has instilled in him. He’s a neat kid and I’m so excited to see how God is going to use Sloan’s passion to impact the world.

I also resolved that I need to walk down to the mailbox with Sloan and meet Herman myself. Because I am not ashamed to follow the example of my child.

Filed Under: Family, funny stuff that happens, Kids, Motherhood, Sloan

Those Little Pink Bags

August 10, 2009 by Kelli

It was tax-free weekend here. Which means the masses were out, ignoring the weak economy and indulging in some good old fashioned retail therapy. Even Lee got into the groove and so we packed up our adorable brood Saturday morning and headed out to buy a few things we needed and a bunch of stuff we didn’t.

After filling little stomachs at Bob Evans (where Sloan specifically requested chocolate chip pancakes, which they didn’t have on the menu so they grabbed a bag of M & M’s from the store and tossed those in and even gave him a smiley face in whipped cream – that, folks, is how you keep your customers coming back!), we headed to the Promised Land.

That’s right – we went to Target. Because Target makes me happy. It’s like a drug; a beautiful, glorious good-deal drug. Forget that other mega store (the one that rhymes with Smallcart) – Target is the place that brings sweet joy to my soul…

After stocking up on Sloan’s school supplies (12 glue sticks??? Really? Why again? Do they eat it? (thanks Melissa for the great line:) ), we decided to brave the mall for some new school clothes. Us and the whole of West County.

But you see, we were smart because we hit the stores as soon as they opened. And we spent all of our money as fast as we possibly could. Which is pretty fast when the first two stores you go to are Old Navy and White House Black Market. Oh yeah, and when you don’t have any money to begin with – that helps too…(And yes, I took advantage of the no tax weekend for myself as well and I got the rockin’ red shoes at the top of this page – aren’t they awesome?)

After all the retail loveliness, Lee and the kids went to unwind in the vortex of automated rides meant to suck the life out of anyone over the age of twelve and I headed to the store with the hidden Secret. Because I was in need of some unmentionables…because I tend to buy those about as often as I buy a new car…which is about as much information as I’m sure any of you are going to want…

I’ll confess, shopping for underwear is not my favorite thing. I find it horribly intrusive to have sales people hanging around me as I purchase my intimates, asking me whether I prefer a thong or full coverage, lace or cotton and would I like this specially made bra? It’s on sale for only 30 dollars!

And can we talk about the prices? I can buy a kickin’ pair of shoes for as much as two undergarments (or one in some cases). Really? Reeeaaallly?

So it was with a bit of reluctance that I entered the store Saturday. And I made my plan to find what I wanted and get out of there in record time. It’s not that I’m not seduced by all the pretty, girliness of the store – I just feel a little weird about everyone knowing what I’m buying. Especially since it is apparently a stipulation for hire that you must be just out of puberty and as bubbly, if not more so, than the Starbucks baristas. Maybe they all train at the same school.

So imagine my surprise/horror when I was approached by a DUDE the other day, asking me if I needed help finding anything. If I hadn’t been trying so hard not to make eye contact with him, I would have studied him more closely to try and figure out what this guy was doing selling underwear in the store with a Secret and OMG no I don’t need your help AND CAN WE PLEASE SAY UNDERWEAR INSTEAD OF PANTIES! GAH!

Then there was the woman who dragged her poor son in the store. Bless his heart – he was around 12 and his face was all shades of red as his mom dug through the stacks of silky underwear. He looked like he would gladly crawl through the floor and die a thousand horrible deaths simply by being amidst all the negligee.

Then I remembered the one time I brought Sloan in the store about a year and a half ago and caught him oohing and aahing as he stroked the leg of one of the manniquins and I giggled. But then the DUDE approached me again to tell me about the sales, and I got all uncomfortable and jumpy again and JUST WANTED OUT OF THE STORE WITH THE SECRET!

So I quickly went about my business, found what I needed, checked out with the DUDE (DUDE!) and left the store with the Secret. And as I walked through the mall, I felt conspicuous with my little pink bag swinging by my side. It’s as if everyone knew my secret. Only I don’t know my secret.

All I know is that I really, really hate underwear shopping.

Filed Under: funny stuff that happens, Life, Random Tagged With: Target, Victoria's Secret, White House Black Market

The screaming – Oh my the screaming…

August 4, 2009 by Kelli

Yesterday was Tia’s long-anticipated visit to the ENT. Well, long-anticipated for me. She didn’t know we were going until about an hour before the appointment.

Because I believe in the element of surprise. And because I believe in not listening to the fearful cries of my daughter for any longer than necessary.

Actually, she handled the news very well. Surprisingly well, in fact. She didn’t freak out or ask repeatedly why. She took it like a champ. And I actually convinced myself that the appointment was going to go smoothly. I entered into a fairy land where I suddenly believed that she would shed a few silent tears, but otherwise sit like a charm as the Dr. dug the hard, compacted wax out of her ears.

Further adding to my delusion was the fact that she was very excited about the ice cream treat that awaited her after the appointment as long as she promised not to scream.

Yes. I bribed my child. Shamelessly, I might add. And I worded the bribe carefully in an effort to set her up for success. All she had to do was not scream. Crying was permitted. Because I’m generous and a realist. Well, almost a realist anyway…

As we waited for the nurse to call her name, Tia was as chipper as could be. She actually seemed exctied. Until, that is, they took us into the examining room. That’s when she began to crumble.

First, her chin started quivering uncontrollably. Then, her eyes got so big they threatend to overtake her tiny little face. After that, she crawled into my lap, her lovey bear clutched in her white knuckled fists. Finally, she looked up at me and with a quavering voice said, “We go now and has ice team?”

I reminded her of our little deal – no screaming and we’ll go get ice cream. She nodded her head and turned as the door opened and the nurse came in with a thermometer. The kind that measures the temperature in the ear. And that, my friends, was the moment her desire for ice cream went out the window.

She screamed. She screamed really, really loud. And she arched her back and fell off my lap onto the floor. It took me and the nurse by surprise. Then it made me laugh.

After the nurse left (without getting her temperature), I reminded Tia of our little deal once more (I was willing to dole out grace at this point) and she nodded again. Then the doctor came in and she immediately clamped her hands over her ears.

After I pinned her arms down and wrapped my leg around her legs, the doctor cautiously approached. I think we scared him. And just as he got the very tip of his othoscope in her ear, she let loose.

“I DON’T WANT ICE CREAM!” she screeched. And the wailing commenced.

At that point, we all started laughing. I tried to hold her down, but there was no containing her. My daughter is freakishly strong. The doctor got a quick peek in one ear. Enough to determine that she does indeed have a lot of wax, but not enough to tell whether or not it might be impeding her hearing.

And the screaming – oh my, the screaming…

It wasn’t worth it for anyone to go on. He sent us to audiology where they determined that she is hearing fine, then gave me my options.

1.) Ignore it and try again in a couple of years when she’s older. The down side to this option is that the wax will continue to build and will eventually affect her ability to hear sounds.

2.) Put drops in her ears for a couple of weeks to soften the wax, then bring her back and try again. The down side to this is that somehow we will still have to contain her long enough to let them get the wax out.

3.) Put her under general anesthesia for about 10 minutes and let them clean her ears out completely. As far as Lee and I can tell there is no down side to this. So I’ve got an appointment to go back in a couple of week.

All that to say…we did not get ice cream yesterday.

Filed Under: funny stuff that happens, Kids, Motherhood, things I don't need to hear

Re-Post: Literal Art and the Worst Toy Ever Created

August 3, 2009 by Kelli

I’m exhausted today and I have mountains of laundry chasing me through the house like a really, really bad horror film. So I’m not going to even try to be original this morning. I’m just going to repost one of my favorites. The reason I pulled this one out is because my kids are marching through the house with that d*@# bird right now intent on driving their poor mama crazy.

Good times. Do enjoy, for a second time…

So Sloan came home from school with this masterpiece the other day. He was very proud of it. I placed it in the window in our kitchen. When Lee came home he looked at it told Sloan how cool it was. “What is it? What does it represent?” he asked.

“It’s just bread and goldfish,” Sloan responded, looking up at Lee as if he had just sprouted a second head.

Riiiight. So, it’s clearly not abstract art.

In other Lee stories (I post these with his permission), the other night Sloan and Tia were running around the house after their bath. They like to run “in their nakeds” as Sloan says. Apparently Sloan tripped and twisted his foot. He cried pretty hard and it was his “I’m really hurt” cry as opposed to the “I’m just making noise” cry. So Lee spent some time putting pressure on the foot and turning it to make sure there wasn’t any real damage.

Then, in what was an apparent attempt to be funny gone terribly awry, Lee told Sloan to stand on his feet, then reach down and touch his toes. When Sloan reached down, Lee pushed him. He was hoping to make Sloan laugh and forget about his pain. Instead, Sloan fell on his face and twisted his wrist underneath him. So now the concern was not whether he had broken his foot, but his wrist.

Sheesh. Boys (eyeroll).

Then, yesterday Lee came home for work all bright eyed and excited.

“Where are the kids?” he asked. “I’ve got a surprise for them.”

I was in the nursery trying to clean out the closets and drawers of all the clothes that no longer fit. I heard Lee tell the kids to sit down on the couch and close their eyes.

“Now, this is something for you guys to share.”
At this point, my heart fell slightly because my kids and sharing do not mix well. Then, I heard a bag crinkling and Lee told the kids to open their eyes. This is what I hear.

“Oh boy! Thanks dad! It’s a talking parrot!”

At this point I almost cried and let me tell you why. When we go to my parents condo, there is a man that lives down there that is precious and he loves kids. Every time we come, he brings this fake, talking parrot that repeats everything you say to Sloan to play with. After about ten minutes of Sloan screaming at the parrot and it screaming back at him, I generally feel a migraine coming on. That bird always mysteriously ends up on the very highest shelf, where he stays until we leave and have to give it back to Mr. Neal. This is the exact bird toy that Lee bought for the kids. It’s like a cruel joke. When he came in the bedroom he was all smiles. “They love it!” he said.

“Are you mad at me?” I asked. “Have I done something to offend you in any way?”

It was at this point that he realized what he had done. He started laughing, and God love me, I tried to laugh with him, I really did. Then he offered a mild apology. “It’s just so fun to shop at Cracker Barrell,” he said.

So now, as I post this, Sloan and Tia are in the basement screaming at the top of their lungs at the parrot and laughing hysterically as it screams back at them. And I am secretly plotting revenge on my husband.

Filed Under: blast from the past, Family, funny stuff that happens, Kids, Random

Is It Bad? Part Four

July 3, 2009 by Kelli

It’s time for another installment of Is It Bad? The series where I attempt to make myself feel better for the fallicies in my parenting and my life. It doesn’t really work, but it does make me laugh at myself and laughter keeps the world goin’ ’round, right? Or is it love?

Whatever it is – I hope you enjoy.

-Is it bad that I enjoyed every single moment of my trip alone last week? I mean, I missed my kids, but I reeeaaally enjoyed waking up on my own, going to the bathroom alone and eating sitting down for seven whole days. Is that bad?

-Is it bad that I was over the news about Michael Jackson’s death about ten minutes after I heard it? Is it bad that I have no interest in watching one more documentary about his life? In my opinion, Michael Jackson died a long time ago. All that’s been left for many years was the broken shell of a hurting man. But Michael Jackson the brilliant performer? He died sometime in the early ’90’s.

-Is it bad that yesterday, when I took a Core strengthening class at the gym, I contemplated all the ways that I could bring harm to the instructor who I’m sure was trying to kill us all? Is it bad that this morning, when I tried to sit up and realized that my abdomen has gone on strike in protest to the bajillion and one crunches I did yesterday, I revisited those hateful thoughts? I’ve since repented so that makes it better, right?

-Is it bad that by 9:00 am on Wednesday morning, I was already frustrated with my children besides that fact that I came home full of ambition to be more patient with them?

-Is it bad that I always splash a tiny bit of apple juice into Landon’s sippy cup because he refuses to drink water? Is it bad that when I’m out of apple juice, I put a little water into the apple juice container and attempt to trick him into thinking there’s juice in his cup so he’ll drink water? It worked for awhile, but I think he’s on to me.

-Is it bad that I posted a status update on Facebook yesterday that was grammatically incorrect? (I misused the comma, and, you know, I likes me some commas. Yikes, that last sentence was gramatically incorrent – slang, cliche – oh the horror! And now this paranthetical pause is getting way too long, a personal pet peeve (ooh, I do love alliteration though). Someone stop me!) Is it bad that the knowledge of my comma misuse bothered me so much that I actually laid awake in bed last night thinking about it? Say it with me – obsessive.

-Is it bad that my house is in a sad state (we could be pushing health hazard) but instead of cleaning it I’m thinking of taking the kids to the pool today and then taking a nap?

-Is it bad that I refuse to walk out my back door right now because there is a spider hanging in the air about two feet from the door and I don’t want it to swing over and attack me while I attempt to leave? Is it bad that I sent the dog out first in the hopes that she will eat the spider for me? Is it bad that I’m such a pansy?

-Speaking of the dog, is it bad that we are seriously considering getting rid of her? She’s such a good dog and it really does break my heart to think about giving her away, but we travel so much and are so busy that I feel like we don’t give her the love she needs. Is it that so bad?

-Is it bad that I stuck my kids in front of the TV where I can almost see there brains turning to mush and the eyes turning into liquid pools just so I could sit down at the computer and write this post? Is it bad that I used the television as my babysitter? Is it?

-Is it bad that I want to tear down our swingset because my daughter scares the ever lovin’ bejeebus out of me on it. She’s a crazy little monkey and I fear that she will lead me to an early grave as she dangles precariously from the moneky bars. Is it bad that I would rather just remove the death contraption than to teach her safety?

Okay, now it’s your turn. Write your own Is It Bad? post and leave me a comment with the link – or just post your own Is It Bad? statements in the comments.

So is it bad that I just shamelessly begged you all to leave me a comment?

Filed Under: funny stuff that happens, Is IT Bad?, Kids, Landon, Motherhood, Random, shameless self-promotion

Sloan-isms

July 2, 2009 by Kelli

My boy (who’s almost SIX) has had a few great one liners lately. Enjoy the deep thoughts of Sloan Stuart:

Sloan: “Hey mom – you know what I’m the awesomest at?”
Me: “What?”
Sloan: “Oh, just about everything.”
Me: “You’re modest too.”
Sloan: “Yeah…Mom, what’s modest?”

One morning, after he crawled in bed with us at the crack of dawn, he started rubbing my face.
Sloan: “Mom, do you have sunscream on?”
Me: “No.”
Sloan: “Why is your skin so lotiony then?”
Me: “I put lotion on my face before I went to sleep.”
Sloan: “Oh. Is that to help you not look so old.”
I had no comment…

When I called about 5 days into my trip, I spoke with Sloan who is the only child who apparently missed me while I was gone…
Sloan: “Mom, where are you?”
Me: “I’m in South Caicos.”
Sloan: “What are you doing in South Caicos?”
Me: “I’m just looking around.”
Sloan: “Okay, um…this is getting a little weird. When are you coming home?”

After I returned home, I enjoyed some sweet snuggles with my oldest. As we cuddled up he gave me a kiss on the cheek.
Sloan: “Mom, I missed you so much.”
Me: “I missed you too, buddy.”
Sloan: “You know mom – I always loved you. Like, always…”

And finally – A couple of weeks ago as I was folding laundry, Sloan pulled out one of my bras and held it up.
Sloan: “Mom – when I grow up and turn into a girl, will I wear a nest holder like this?” (he still calls the female chest a nest – at what age do you think I should correct him? Never? Oh good, that’s what I was thinking...)
Me: “Honey, you’ll always be a boy – you will never be a girl.
Sloan: dropping my bra and clapping his hands together as though they were dirty – “Oh good, because that does not look comfortable.”

I seriously don’t know where he comes up with some of this stuff…

Filed Under: funny stuff that happens, Kids, Sloan Tagged With: kids say the darndest things, Sloan

He’s Not Always This Cool

June 19, 2009 by Kelli

Last night Lee and I went to the Grand Opening of Shock City Studios, an amazing, state of the art recording and film editing studio owned and operated by Chris Loesch and parters. Chris is married to Dana, my blogging guru and co-board member of the St. Louis Blogger’s Guild.

Lee and I were beyond impressed at the set up they have going on at Shock City. I’ve been there several times due to the fact that Chris graciously donates us free space to conduct guild meetings in their building, but I had never seen the recording booths, sound room and editing room. I was seriously in awe.

Recently, Shock City was named one of the top 16 new studios in the world by Mix Magazine, and after last night, I can see why. It is a mighty impressive place and all involved in bringing that dream to fruition have every right to be very proud.

Because we were so close to downtown and I was wearing a kicky little dress that’s a wee bit short, which means I don’t get to wear it often, we decided to head toward the Arch and get a bite to eat. Only neither of us were hungry so we drove around for a bit and finally settled on Lumiere Place, a huge Casino and hotel.

We tried our hand at the slots and after losing 10 bucks decided that gambling just isn’t for us and headed to a snappy little bar for a nightcap. But we still weren’t hungry nor did we really feel like spending another 10 dollars per drink on cocktails so we finally just decided to head home.

As we stood up, Lee caught his foot on the edge of the table and started to fall. Do you know what happens to a 6 foot 2 inch man who starts to fall and can’t get his footing? Yeah, he just keeps going.

He finally managed to get his feet underneath him, but his head was pitched so far forward that he stumbled to the right, slammed into a table and steadied himself on all fours for a moment before popping back up, all the while splaying menus this way and that.

And what does a sweet wife do when her husband falls on his face in public? Does she: A) Lovingly pick him up, brush him off and tend to his wounded pride? B) Continue walking at a brisk pace in the hopes that people don’t know she is with him? C) Ask him if he’s okay, then burst into hearty laughter?

Okay, the answer is C (isn’t that always the answer?). Though options A and B did cross my mind. I did make sure he wasn’t hurt before I cracked up. As he handed the now destroyed menus to the waitress, who I’m pretty sure thought he was hammered, he said, “Don’t worry – I’m not always this cool.”

I love that man…

Head over to 5 Minutes for Giveaways to read the review I wrote up and enter to win a wooden pirate ship!

And stay tuned. Even though I’ll be gone next week, I am planning on having a few posts scheduled ahead of time for your reading enjoyment.

You’re welcome…

Filed Under: Blogging, funny stuff that happens, Marriage Tagged With: lumiere place, mix magazine, shock city

The Day We Became Heretics

June 11, 2009 by Kelli

*This story has been edited slightly to add the facts that my friend Sveta left in the comments. Thanks Sveta!

So, I promised to tell you the story of Lee kissing the cross in a Ukrainian Orthodox church. And here it is:

When I was pregnant with Sloan I spent a month in Ukraine researching a book that I was working on. While there, I spoke with a handful of World War II veterans, but I didn’t get all the information that I wanted or needed. At this point I already had a publisher lined up for the book so I felt a lot of pressure to complete it before the baby came.

So I began contacting people here in St. Louis who might be able to connect me with more veterans that I could speak with. One of those people was a Ukrainian-American man who was a parishoner at a local Ukrainian Orthodox church. He invited Lee and I to visit the church and told us that after it was over we could speak with some of the older people in attendance.

So Lee and I scheduled a visit to the Ukrainian Orthodox church of St. Louis. At this point I was great with child. And I had reached the status of beached whale.

Whenever I mention my enormity in my first pregnancy, people so sweetly roll their eyes and say “Whatever, I bet you were adorable,” and other really nice things.

I’m here to tell you that I’m not exaggerating. Sloan was 9 lbs. 3 oz. and I carried him all out front. I was humongous. And here is a picture to prove it…

random-001 See? G-R-E-A-T with child…

So one Sunday morning, I waddled myself into a small church building with my very crazy supportive husband at my side. Determined not to make an enormous spectacle of ourselves, we sat in the little cry room in the back. It was dark in the room and there was a large window that looked into the sanctuary where we watched the service with fascination.

The entire service was conducted in Ukrainian and if you didn’t know, Ukrainian and Russian are not the same. So we had no idea what was going on and I’m pretty sure we both fought hard not to doze off. There was another woman in the room with us and she actually had a baby so we tried to look attentive so as not to offend.

It was a very surreal experience. In all my visits to Ukraine, I had only ever been to one Orthodox service and I only stayed for a few minutes, then left because I felt extremely out of place. Seeing all the pomp and circumstance that went into the service was very interesting. I really wished I understood what they were saying.

At the end of the service, the priest (are they called priest’s? I’m not sure) batyushka – the guy in the robe and headdress – walked through the church with a large cross held out in front of him. He stopped at the end of each pew and let everyone offer a simple prayer, after which they leaned forward and kissed the cross. They also kissed his hand, which is a part of this story I had forgotten until Sveta reminded me.

As I watched this, I prayed silently that he would not come to the cry room because I had no intention of kissing that cross. Not only did I not understand why I would be kissing it, but there were a lot of strange lips that were landing on that cross and I really didn’t want to swap germs with all of them…

Much to my dismay, however, the batyushka made it to the cry room where my heart was now beating very quickly. What to do? The woman with the baby murmured a few words in Ukrainian, then leaned forward and kissed the wooden cross and the batyushka’s hand. Then he turned to us.

Lee, the consumate Baptist, stood up and reached his hand out to try and shake the priest’s batyushka’s hand. Instead, the small man furrowed his brow and thrust the cross in Lee’s face. Lee bobbed his head for a few seconds like a drunk hummingbird, trying to avoid the inevitable. But he finally took a deep breath, puckered up and kissed the cross.

And then I kissed it. Because I didn’t know how to avoid it and my husband had already paved the way for me. As soon as the priest batyuska left, Lee and I lost it. We could not stop laughing – the whole situation was just so comical. And as I belly laughed, my gigantic midsection bounced up and down, which made us laugh harder. The woman in the room glared at us and left abruptly.

And thus ended our experience in the Ukrainian Orthodox church. Incidentally, I ended up not really getting any good contacts out of them after all. When we attended the banquet after church, no one seemed interested in talking, so it was a wash.

Well, except for the memory, which is now one of my favorites.

And now you know the story of Lee kissing a cross.

The end.

Filed Under: blast from the past, funny stuff that happens, Marriage Tagged With: Ukrainian Orthodox church

The Lotus in a Field of Mud

June 9, 2009 by Kelli

I took a yoga/pilates class at the gym last week. Why? Hard to say…I think I’m a glutton for punishment. Actually, the yoga/pilates class wasn’t nearly as difficult as the yoga class I took on Saturday, which kicked my butt.

Seriously, my butt was sore for days…

At the end of the class, after we’d taken our short nap and aligned our breathing with our heart center (huh?) we sat up, hands clasped at our hearts and the instructor, in a vibrating alto of a voice, said, “May we all shine like the lotus in a field of mud. Namaste.” At which point she bowed low. While everyone else bowed back, I stifled a giggle because really? What does that even mean?

And I had an immediate flashback to my honeymoon when my brand new husband and I decided to try our very first yoga class together. We were at an amazing spa and resort off the coast of Seattle. It was very earthy and granola. Yoga just seemed like the thing to do there.

So we arrived promptly at 9:00am on the second day of our honeymoon and we met our instructor, whose name I don’t remember but in my imagination I call her Celeste, because it seems to fit the picture I have.

She was probably in her early fifties and had long, matted hair – very hippie. She didn’t wear a lick of makeup and looked as if she had sworn off bra’s around 1965.

To put it mildly, she was…an odd bird.

We got inside the small yoga room where she lit incense and turned on warbling music that immediately made me feel like Dorothy in the field of poppys. It suddenly dawned on Lee and I that we were the only two people in the room with Celeste. We looked at each other and giggled.

Then we began the workout. “Take in deep breaths,” Celeste stage-whispered over the drowsy music, “And align your spirit with the stars of the universe.”

At this point I opened one eye and looked over at Lee who had his hands at his side and a look of horror on his face. “What is this?” he mouthed to me. I shrugged and stifled another giggle, then went about trying to align my spirit with the stars. I’m pretty sure I never accomplished that task.

Fifteen minutes into our private yoga class, Celeste finally pushed Lee too far. Mind you, this was our first experiece with Up-Dogs and Down-Dogs. We’d never heard the words “Shatacharasana” or “Chutitutunga.”

I’m pretty sure those aren’t actually yoga terms, but it’s what I hear when the instructors speak. It’s all very confusing…

Aaaanyhoo, Celeste was leading us in our first Cobra. A pose which requires you to keep your lower abs on the floor and push your shoulders up and back. As we scooped forward, Celeste, who up until this moment had been whispering all her instructions with great reverenece, burst out in a deep voice, “BEEEE THE COBRAAAAA.” And she thrust herself upward.

After I swallowed my heart, which had leapt into my throat, I laughed out loud. I couldn’t stifle it. But Celeste was so well aligned with the stars that she didn’t even hear me.

I looked at Lee who was standing up and rolling up his mat. “I’m leaving,” he whispered. “This is weird.”

“You can’t,” I mouthed. “We’re the only ones in here.”

He shrugged, then walked out. My husband of 48 hours abandoned me in a room with Celeste the yoga nazi.

I didn’t want to leave because I was afraid that we would bump into her somewhere on the grounds of the resort and she would know that we were the people that bailed on her class and place some kind of star-powered yoga hex on us. So I stuck it out. I did the tree with Celeste. I balanced on my elbows with Celeste. I did a shoulder stand with Celeste. I became one with the cobra with Celeste. And all the while I cursed my darling husband for leaving me to suffer alone.

That was only the start of the many, many bizarre situations that Lee and I have managed to get ourselves into in our nearly nine years of marriage. We have definately seized the day in our married lives. I’m so glad I married someone who isn’t afraid to try new things. And I’m pleased to say that he hasn’t abandoned me in an awkward situation ever again. Thankyouverymuch.

(Soon, I’ll tell you about the time we visited a Ukrainian Orthodox church here in St. Louis and Lee kissed a cross. Classic…)

And now, every once in awhile when we’re sitting quietly, one of us will burst out with “BEEEE THE COBRAAAA!”

Now if I could only figure out how on earth to be a lotus…

Filed Under: blast from the past, funny stuff that happens, Marriage Tagged With: rosario resort, yoga, yoga/pilates