One Hot Mama

I love shopping, especially when I have money to spend! I tend to take my time, try things on, find the good deals, and make sure I really want the item before heading over to the checkout counter. Of course, it's almost summer time and the weather is warming up. Well, in our part of the world it warms up one day and rains or snows the next three days. ANYWAY, the weather is looking nicer and the dress code at work is becoming more casual. This means: capris! I never used to like capris because of my pear shaped body, skinny, heavy, skinny, and I always thought, "Why would I want to show off my chicken legs?" Now they've made many varieties of capris so that I, and my chicken legs, can sport them and still look decent. The downfall to all of this? My hubby. Now that I work at a community college he has become more, how you say, paranoid?
His comments while we were shopping were:
*You look fat in those clothes.
*Why are you trying to buy those kinds of clothes for work?
*None of those things look good on you. Just use my clothes.
*Why don't you buy the big sweaters?
After ruining my whole shopping experience and day, we get home and SOMEONE wants to play nice. Needless to say, this put me over the top!
"What is your problem?!" I say in annoyance.
He says, "I don't want you looking amazing so that those college students will be checking you out. I don't want their eyeballs staring at you."
I'm dumbfounded at this point. At a loss for words.
"So, you think that insulting me will change anything?" I stumble on my words.
He says, "You are a beautiful woman with nice curves and I don't want to share that with anyone."
WOW! Great compliments. Great responses. But I'm still annoyed. Because all I hear in my head is, "You're too fat for those clothes." I'm trying to get past the negativity and remind myself that my hubby thinks I'm one hot mama!

Diversity in Education

I attended our Teacher Scholarship banquet tonight where high school students were awarded full scholarships to the college as well as a smooth transition into the university. These scholarships are to promote diversity in education and multicultural teachers. It was great to see many of these students were male because not only do we need ethnic teachers but we're a little short on male teachers as well. Although I was proud to be sitting there representing our Pacific Islander population, I was disappointed to see only one of our students represented. One is good, in fact it's great, don't get me wrong. I just think there could and should be many more of our good students in education continuing the tradition of our forefathers. My own niece's high school counselor recommended this particular scholarship for her when she mentioned she was interested in education. What an amazing opportunity for students but why aren't more of our Pacific Islander students in this program? Right now it's our million dollar question.

Diagnosis: Coach

My dad has always been notorious for forgetting birthdays. He would call a few weeks after the fact and apologize or send one of those belated birthday cards. Now that he's retired, he's completely changed in terms of remembering birthdays, events, etc. In fact, he's better at it than I am! You can imagine my surprise when a postal worker knocks on my door on a Saturday morning with a package. From my dad. I open it up and there's a brown leather work/travel bag. I shrug my shoulders because this is an absolute shocker and I have no idea what's going on. When I inspect the brown bag closer, I see there's another bag inside of it. So I cut that wonderful protective plastic string and pull out... none other than... a Coach purse. Whoa! Those who know me are probably laughing at this point because I am NOT a girlie, girl, I do not slobber watching QVC pointing at the high end purses that should be in MY closet, I don't even own outfits that cost as much as these Coach purses. Of course my husband, in his infinite wisdom, says now I need to dress like the Kardashians in order to qualify to tote that type of baggage around. I am a FOB, no joke. Even in my semi-rage at my husband's comment, internally I was thinking the same thing. What is a FOB like me doing with a purse like this? I proceeded to call my dad to gracefully thank him for the gift and to ask what the occasion was? His reply: It's your early birthday gift. Two months early. Hey, not bad! He felt I needed a nice purse as well as a bag for work. Thoughtful? Yes! Then my dad calls yesterday and says, "Did you check your mail?" I say no and then get yelled at to hurry and check it. I follow orders like a good daughter and find a birthday card in the mail. Perfect timing for my birthday. Wow. I'm amazed at how spoiled I am to have such an amazing dad. With great taste in purses. Well, he had help from the purse queen, my older sister. But that's okay. I now use the purse everyday because I figure it's time to grow up and be a big girl. Maybe dress nicely now and again. But I'll always be a FOB. And never too old. My dad's card said it best. "Aging is inevitable. Maturing is optional." So, slowly, very slowly, I might think about maturing. With my Coach on my shoulder. And my slippers on.

Ode to Mom

Strong. Passionate. Fiesty. Caring. Loving. I could fill this blog with adjectives that refer to my mom but the best description would be generous. She is always making sure all of her children and grandchildren are okay and taken care of. She may not have much, but she gives much more. She's the kind of mom who will go to a grocery store's case sale and buy cases of toilet paper for each household. Or canned spaghetti. Or canned vegetables. She'll call and ask if we have a glass jar to hold our bigger utensils and buy one if the answer is No. When she buys a new crockpot, she'll call and ask who needs one so she can give away her used one that is barely used and still in awesome shape. She remembers birthdays. She calls when she knows someone is sick and checks to see if we need anything. She always complains of being broke but spoils everyone at Christmas. She brags about her family to her friends at church. She sends care packages and cards to family members. She takes TONS of pictures. She is our historian. Our rock. She's MOM in every sense of the word.