A Very Lucky Girl

I'm more than halfway through the summer of learning that I probably don't want kids. I love being able to give these children back to their parents at the end of the day. It's my favorite part. Especially since this week was sass city in this household (I'm reluctant to say that I could be the cause of this...I'm pretty free with my sarcastic conversations). Regardless, it pissed me off.  We started off the week with a surprise visit from pest control. I was unsure if he was there for the vermin or the children (they seem to synonymous this week), but either way I had not been informed of his impending arrival. So when a strange looking man showed up on the front porch, I was wary. I felt bad for being so suspicious, but his opening words were, "So how's everything looking inside?" No mention of his occupation. Um, things are great sir, thanks...move along. He saw the terror-stricken look on my face and recognized his blunder. "Oh! I'm

At first glance I thought Ames was back with us from Ashley Hebert’s season during the introduction and I almost rejoiced. But then I realized it was just a really weird camera angle of Chris. Devastating. The gang has arrived in Prague. Before we get to actually see anybody we are treated to several camera angles of the same sun peeking around statues and ancient buildings. And finally, there is Emily dragging that trusty turquoise suitcase to her hotel. We still don't buy this you-have-muscles ploy, Em. And, OHMYGAWD, stop everything! I just realized Emily is not a natural blonde. Her roots are out to play. You are on national television, Maynard, get that fixed while you get your horrible spray tan.  First date card arrives and Sean reads it under the piercing glare of Chris willing Sean to say his name. No such luck. Arie gets to "Czech out Prague" with Emily. Am I jealous? With a pun like that? No. Emily arrives to pick up Arie and hugs ever

I have not been in the mood for immature shenanigans this week. I think lack of sleep is catching up with me and breeding irritability. Unfortunately, the kids are up and at 'em within minutes of my arrival at 7:45 AM every morning. I creep into the house and shut the front door as quickly as possible, removing my shoes, and whispering to talk to their mother, hoping to catch a few more childless seconds. Twice this week she assured me that they had stayed up late and would more than likely sleep in. Both times one or the other kid woke up within 3 minutes of being issued this statement.  On one of these mornings Brother quickly realized that I wasn't going to be engaging in any sort of activity before 9 AM (I cuddle up on their giant bean bag as soon as I arrive and definitely plan on investing in something of the sort when I move out of the dorms) and resigned himself to some Wii time. He tried to play a Hot Wheels racing game and the disc wouldn't read. He brought it

Are we running out of dreamy destination vacations, Chris Harrison? Because Emily's choice of Croatia has me flabbergasted. Next stop...Afghanistan? Emily prances into Croatia with a turquoise suitcase. I already see ABC production at work, there's no way southern princess Emily Maynard carries her own suitcase. Its gotta be empty. Good old home town Travis takes the first date. Emily and Travis are united in their hick town backgrounds and show off their square dancing/jigging skills in a Croatian alley. I burst out laughing when Emily mentioned her disappointment in Travis remaining shirtless throughout the Croatian balancing tradition. Her pouty lip is really just too much. Talk about a first world problem. Tyler predicted Travis' eventual demise, but Emily was a tease, picking up the rose to make her break up speech, but then refusing to part with it. Travis' tears almost broke my heart, but his dramatic umbrella toss on the street saved the day, and my mascara.

So basically, my bestfriend is a model I miss you eating poptarts every morning Moriah is twenty, y'all! Can't believe it. I remember celebrating our Sweet 16 together. And somehow she has made it 4 more years and I am SO glad. I am honored to be her friend, and I hope to be so blessed to get to see her this summer (fingers crossed that August works out for me to visit). She's been there for me, a non judgemental figure, through all of my failures. I can tell her anything and she will listen and give me advice, leaving the better-than-you attitude out of it. I can only hope to be half as good of a person as Moriah Jo is. God has beamed on her for twenty years and I know He will continue to do so for many more. She deserves it. Being her friend is so easy, it just comes naturally. I love you so much MJC! Wish I could see you for your birthday, but I'll just creepily stare at a picture of you to make up for it. One more year til you can legally drink those mimosas

Week three is complete. Only 2 more weeks left until my entire week off. I'm a little bit excited about 7 whole days dedicated to just being 20. Because I've figured out that the trick to making nannying enjoyable for everyone is to act their age--to a point. If I put myself into a 9 year old mindset (the mean of their ages), then I don't mind playing play dough nearly as much.  On Monday I took the kids to Frontier City. This was my first time there. I suggest a motion to rename it Jank City. Every single ride creaked. The very first one was a Splash Mountain wannabe, where you rode in a rickety log flume around a riveting creek until plunging over a drop. I clutched the handle bars  until my knuckles turned white and gritted my teeth as the less-than-stable log made its agonizing ascent to the top of the drop. I used to love roller coasters! And I think I still do...I just have an aversion to the ones that aren't reassuringly, positively safe. I couldn't stop t

I'm relying on my memory of this episode because I just do not have time to rewatch and take notes. Especially if I want this recap debuting before next Monday night.  Ricki is going to be one of the most well-traveled six year olds in Charlotte, NC by the time this show is over. From Bermuda, she and mom jet off to London (probably in a helicopter). Sean receives date card number one and wanders around London with Emily. They are obnoxious tourists, probably even more so with the camera crew following every move, and likely ended up alienating any pro-American sentiment with Sean's impromptu speech on Speaker's Corner. He rambles on for several agonizing minutes about love, which translated to a giant ticking biological clock in Emily's mind for she immediately brings up her love of brats at the dinner table. C'mon Emily, let's be a lady and save that talk for never? You've made your point. Your uterus is apparently starving.  The group date mercifully

My phone is a trooper. I have never fatally destroyed a phone in my career in the cell world and the only reason is because this one must have 9 lives. I'm anxious that it is currently on life 8. I received the iPhone 4 probably July of 2010 before I headed off to TCU. 2 weeks later, before investing in a case, a tragedy occurred at McAlisters. I was throwing my trash away like a diligent patron and somehow my phone slipped out of my fist, crashing into the tile floor. I cringed and gingerly picked it up, relieved to see that the face was unscathed. The back? Not so much. Cracks zigzagged across the back, the splintered glass fragments splitting reflections. I bought a case in the next hour.  Who knows what this phone endured at TCU. I can't imagine I was very gentle with it, but it's adventures remain a mystery. 2011 came around and phone left Jamba Juice and waitressing shifts none the worse for wear. Fast forward to OU and phone's luck started to change. Walking d

The last time I was legitimately angry? A week and a half ago. I was playing Phase 10 with Tyler and the family. We sat around the dining room table, alternately glaring at anyone who tried to sneak a peak at our cards and skipping whoever was in the lead. Typically Oakes or Tyler. It was phase 9. I was trying desperately to obtain a set of 5 and a set of 2. I was one card away and the next turn was slowly circling the table. Megan had put down her phase and was merely waiting to go out. Shari lamented that she wasn't picking up anything that she needed. Megan helpfully piped up, "What card do you need? Maybe I have it!" Shari stared in disbelief, but wasn't above getting illegal help, as she responded, "6 or 8?" Megan casually tossed down an 8, much to my dismay. Shari eagerly picked it up and proceeded to get rid of all of her cards in the next 4 seconds. I slammed my cards down on the table and expressed my rage as calmly as possible. Paul, Oakes, and T

I love holidays that involve presents. Not because of what I could potentially receive but because of what I can give! I love love LOVE to give people presents. It honestly makes me really happy. You could say it's an unselfish trait...but I love the feeling I get when I surprise someone with something that makes them smile. I crave that high. So, in that sense, I give selfishly.  That being said, I most love to give gifts with meaning. I hate Oakes' birthday because he has zero emotions and only wants cash. That's not fun to present. I try to make the card personal, but I'm fairly certain that my words go unread every year. But I thrive on holidays like Christmas and the birthdays of my friends, because they appreciate the thought I put into what I give them. For Christmas last year I gave Megan and my grandparents a memory jar. I compiled 52 specific memories that I have with them, wrote them on little scrolls of paper, tied with a ribbon, and spilled them all into

These kids are so out of my league. I had enough material for an entire post just after Monday of this week. But I saved everything up for a mega post. And I plan to make it a weekly thing. This was the week of the soccer mom. I literally took Brother to soccer practice every morning and watched him from the bleachers with Sister. It is unreal how much more cautious you become with other children in the car. I asked my mom if she still feels like that when me and Oakes are in the car. She said no. I guess Oakes and I's value decreased as we got older... I kept both hands at ten and two. The radio at an acceptable decibel. And constantly checked all the mirrors. Monday. The kids greeted me with a "we missed you over the weekend!" when I arrived on Monday morning. It was adorable. But their constant chatter was not. I brought Advil for the rest of the week. We had our first casualty. It was my own. It's all fun and games until an 8 year old crash lands on your foo

Eric Church points out that it's "funny how a melody sounds like a memory." I couldn't agree more. There are certain songs that just take you back in time. Whether it's kicking and screaming, or willingly. For instance, Sadie Hawkins Dance by Relient k? I'm back in middle school with Sarah, screaming "do you like my sweeeatttterrrrrrr?" at the top of our lungs. Everytime We Touch by Cascada? Transported to carpools to Crabtree Mall with Marianne, Penel, and Astrid. Our Song by Taylor Swift summons images of Moriah and I interpretative dancing at our sweet 16 birthday party. I'm sure there are songs that touch you like that too. Probably in a more meaningful way than the ones I just described. Even just a few music notes can remind me that I'm A Very Lucky Girl. 

Emily kicks off Week Four with a description of Bermuda. Her adjective of choice? "Cute." Tropical islands are just SO adorable. Doug is given the one-on-one date (or real-life date, if you prefer). He makes a great impression by telling her cleavage that it "looks very pretty." Emily takes a lull in the conversation to express her surprise at how she really likes it here! I mean, I was worried she was going to hate it...weren't y'all? Emily makes a giant deal of this wishing arch and confides her wish in all of America (which means it's definitely not coming true), telling us that she wished she wouldn't be single forever. Dream big, Em. Emily sees Doug as "too perfect" but his inner Hannah Montana kicks in and he promises that "nobody's perfect!" She continues to press him for faults and he valiantly tries to think of something to satisfy her. But comes up blank. Because, obviously, he's just too good to be true.

Did you know that guys in the early 1900's were scared to talk to girls? T.S. Eliot even elaborated on this lack of confidence in a poem titled "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock." He drones on and on, self deprecating with every syllable. He is searching for love but is convinced that women don't want him. He is having a middle age crisis. An identity crisis-but instead of focusing on who he is, he focuses on how out of his league these women are. Maybe he needs to adjust his standards? But my main problem with his mental block comes from his negativity, "Do I dare?....so how should I presume?...And how should I begin?..." He seems to be saying, who am I that this girl would say yes to me? Well, who are you that she would say no? You gain nothing by hiding from risky opportunities, but you could miss out on an inexpressible experience. There's no guarantee that life is going to give you roses in exchange for putting yourself out there in an uncomfor

I started my new job on Friday. I'll be spending June and July with two precocious kids. We have big plans of tearing apart Frontier City, White Water Bay, and crafting til Hobby Lobby runs out of glue. This is my first experience with consistent babysitting. It's like a real job; 7:45 am to 4 pm Monday through Friday. But it's got a lovely real paycheck to go along with it. Which is awesome cuz Tyler's birthday is coming up and I have NO idea what he's getting yet... The kids are boy and girl, 8 and 10 years old. They are probably the most well-behaved children I've ever met. Not to mention, SMART! I met them for the first time at the end of Christmas break so that the parents could make sure I wasn't an axe murderer in disguise and the oldest (the boy) casually wove several SAT words into conversation on our way to the park. I stared in awe. They refer to each other as "brother" and "sister." As in, "sister, let's swim!"

I can't tell you how many times I've sat down with a purposeful post in mind, only to veer from my original intent midway through the second sentence of said post. Which leaves me with a long list of things that I still need to blog about. I have a stack of materials next to my bed and short phrases in my Notes App on my phone that I keep meaning to weave into a post, but they never seem to fit. And then when I go back to look at them I forget where I was even going with the point. Where am I going with THIS point?  It stresses me out when I don't have at least 2 posts queued. It's egotistical to assume that you are hanging on my every word, but I don't want to disappoint any avid readers. And neither do I want to crash and burn on this project. I'm notorious for a lot of big talk without much action backing up my words. For quitting projects when I've barely made a dent in the progress. May 26th marked the 3 month birthday of averyluckygirl-taylor.blogsp