The Mini Van Soap Box

I usually avoid the end of the year retrospective posts. I'm not entirely sure why, probably because I don't DO anything, or accomplish anything - so a "year of the end post" for me would mostly be "Hey, another year of doing jack shit! Yea ME!" But 2009 has been....well, interesting.  To say the least.

Actually, it's kind of sucked to tell you the truth.

I mean we've certainly had some good times, and there are some fond memories that I have that I can look back on - but for the most part.....2009 can suck my ass.

I got out of work early today, drove home and spent some time going through the last year of posts.  I think it's kind of interesting to go back and see where you were 12, 10, 6 months ago....

I've spent a LOT of time worrying about my brain exploding with these damn migraines...I don't even want to think about how much money we've spent this year on doctors, drugs and tests. It makes you really pissed off at the end of the year that you didn't get signed up with the Flexible Spending Account on your health insurance....

I lost my Grandmother - which was hard when it happened - but now it seems to be hitting my daughter.  Out of no where she'll start to cry about never being about to see her Great Grandmother again - and it's so difficult to explain the idea of forever and heaven to a small child...especially when their deepest concern is "But Grandma will never drink juice again!".

Not all was bad however - I blamed the Easter bunny for not coming to our house - which in my book makes me a freakin' ROCK STAR.

I saw a license plate that said "I C GAY PPL" I have looked for this person EVERY DAY since then - and I haven't found him yet. I'm dying to know if he only see's Gay People in his car...Or if he see's them everywhere! Or if they are, like the movie, and only dead gay people? You can't put something like that on your car and not explain it.

I, like many others, deleted the Gosselins from our lives forever - and apparently not a moment too soon.  What sucked was that I actually had to have a sit down chat with my daughter about why she wasn't allowed to watch it anymore....But I'll still let her watch Survivor and Lost.  Because THAT'S quality programming, kid!

I admitted to the world that I MAY have a slight anxiety issue, went to one therapy session - decided that I hated that women - and haven't gone back since. Since then I have met so many people with anxiety worse than mine that I think I may actually be the only normal person around.

And, of course, I talked about my vagina.  A lot.  My parents really love that.  It's why we don't talk about my blog "in public".

So, we look forward to the close of 2009 with no party or big celebration planned. Chances are we won't even stay up past midnight. We'll go to bed and pray that 2010 won't suck as much ass as 2009.

How was your year?

I meant to do this last year, but for one reason or another I didn't. I'm sure it was an important reason....I'm sure if I tried really hard I could come up with one - but let's just chalk it up to drinking too much around the holidays and I just plum forgot about it.

As much as I despise the damn thing - we have a fake tree.  It does have it's advantages, I'll give you that.  We don't have to go out in the 10 degree weather, fight over a tree, haul the freakin' thing home and then pray we don't kill it - or worse - burn the house down because I won't turn the lights off.

Because, really, what's the point of having the tree if I can't have the lights on all the time.

So, we have a good size fake tree - that takes about two weeks to fluff to the appropriate level each year.  Pretty much by the time it's fluffed to my satisfaction, we getting ready to celebrate my birthday in January and we have to put the thing away.

Every year my husband brings it out, puts it together and puts the lights on.  Then I take them all off and do it again, because he sucks at it.  No, really he does.  I'm sure he does it on purpose because ONE DAY I'll eventually give in and not make him do it - but that will never happen.  I would much rather be a martyr about it.

And now that she's old enough, my daughter helps me decorate. Most of our ornaments all "mean" something. Bought on a vacation, given to us by friends and family.  And that is what I would like to share with you today - some of our "treasures".

Meet Lisa.

Lisa is Here.

Lisa hates coats and owns many scarves. 

Lisa has a T-Shirt that says Team Jacob. I just learned what the means in the last three days. And I don't actually know if she has that t-shirt. But she should. If she doesn't, I'll send one to her.

Lisa says one of the worst places she's been to is D.C. I live there. I'm going to forgive that because I don't particularly WANT to live here.

Lisa is different from me because with 20 million dollars she would, like, do nice things.  I would take all that money and wall paper my office. I would also take pictures of that money and post it here...just because I could.  But apparently Lisa is nicer than I am.

You should read about Lisa.  Right Now. Then say nice things about her. Because just between you and me, I think Lisa has some issues.

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Let's start easy...Ease you in a bit....Where are you right now? What are you wearing? I like to get an idea in my head of who I'm talking to. Office? Couch? Kitchen Table?

Right now, I am sitting at my desk, a desk my father made by hand.  When my parents were moving into a smaller house he was going to give it to Goodwill.  It about tore my heart out of my chest.  I took this monstrosity and put it in my tiny living room and love the hell out of it.  This is where the Blogoddess’ (that’s me!) Magic takes place.

I refer to my brain as my ADHD playground.  I have millions and millions of ideas that run through my head like a toddler on a sugary-caffeine high right before naptime.  Writing things down is the only way I catch one of the good ones to follow through.  Also, I am a single mom and teacher.  95% of my life is meeting the needs of others.  All day, every day, it seems like all I hear is “Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Ms. B, Ms. B, Ms. B”  and then followed with some request or dire need that must be met like five minutes ago.  I needed a creative outlet for me, the woman, the person with a brain and dreams.  And, let’s be honest, with my smart-assery sarcasm brilliant wit, I needed an audience to bitch to about all the random bullshit I have to deal with with whom to share my enlightenment and sheer brilliance.

Yeah, can you believe that in 5 months I already have 65 followers?  Man, my Bleeps (Blog Peeps), also known as my Lil’ Lovelies, have been good to me.  I am still dizzy with the giddy that I can fool that many people for this long into thinking I have something worthwhile or entertaining to say!

Yea the girls, My Sweet “Little” DD’s, have been there (maybe not always as gianormous as they are now) since I was about ten.  The best damn bra ever is Lane Bryant’s Cacique bra…all smoke and mirrors, baby!  Makes the girls go from mid thigh to out and high!  Nah, I don’t get free shit because I am an independent woman who don’t need no stinkin’ man to get me anything.  I can do that myself.  But, if men want to look at ‘em, go right ahead.  I mean they are HUGE (as my sister likes to remind me).  The joke among my family and friends is that at one point at any given social function someone is going to talk about my boobs.  They are practically members of my “social circle”.

Well, the 100 Things To Do Checklist…#1 MIGHT be a possibility during this Christmas Break.  So, mum’s the word.  But damn, if it doesn’t happen I am gonna be one sad “cougar”.  As for the other 99 plans, I have explored my own city as a tourist with the Macs (my sons); we went to the Laguna Art Museum and a military museum on Camp Mabry this summer.  Also, I was told by a few of my former students just a couple of weeks ago that I had made a difference in their lives.  WOW!  I ate that shit right up.  Oh, yeah, I started dating again and that was a TOTAL DISASTER. Looooooong story short: he was a self-absorbed, 45 year-old confirmed bachelor who had no clue about single mothers, which I found out on only the second date.  Never trust a man who starts a conversation about single moms and their kids with the phrase, “This ain’t my first rodeo.”  DUMB. ASS.

After seeing my students read this book for about two years I wanted to see what all the Hoo Ha was about.  Twilight sucked me in after reading the first chapter.   I read the series TWICE in less than three weeks.  Yes, there are vampires, but blah, blah, blah.  I am into the wereboys  werewolves, all russet skinned and ripped.  Sighhhh.  Vampires are ice cold like stone.  Wereboys, um, I mean werewolves are hot-blooded and, oh, so lovely.  Just tell your readers I am TEAM JACOB.  They will know what I mean.

Best place ever?  Chicago.  I went this summer with my childhood BFF and we had a blast.  It appealed to me as a world traveler, a teacher, a mom, a single woman on the prowl…well, as much as I prowl. 

Worst place ever?  I am not a huge fan of New Orleans or Washington DC.  They are not horrible, but they just did not get under my skin.  Some cool places and nice people, just not my cup of tea.

I will celebrate MY VERY HAPPY DIVORCE 10^th ANNIVERSARY in April of 2010.  Yep, I have been single for 9 ½ years.  Single parenthood had to work for me because my “X” is practically non-existent in the boys’ lives.  I have my shining moments and then there have been times I am glad there are no cameras in my house.  I had to repeat to myself “You are the adult.  You are the adult.”  Know what I mean?  I just have meltdowns and become human, instead of Super Mom.  Nothing has really changed since I was first divorced because I am still the Boss of Me and I get to make all of the decisions.  Perhaps the thing that has changed is the Macs can pee, poop, get a bowl of cereal, clean up a mess, and dress themselves.  I might have to ask like a gazillion times, but they can do it without my having to do it, much to their chagrin.

I keep it a secret because I want to keep my job as a teacher.  I don’t want to open myself up for lawsuit happy people.  I buy my sister, my close friends, and myself each a house.  I take several trips over the next few years with my family and friends.  I pay off my minivan.  I donate a shitload of it to various charities, many of them having to do with children and Africa, but most of my money goes into savings with my dad being my business manager.  My Dad is the shit when it comes to money and he really is the only man I trust with my life and my money.   I don’t want my life to change drastically.  I love my life the way it is.  Don’t get me wrong.  I won’t turn down the money, but I don’t want to be featured on The Lifestyles of the Rich and Worthless.  I want to make a difference.  I want to make the world a better place.  Aw, dammit.  JOTB is gonna read this and rag on me that Ms. America wants her crown and sash back. But I really do feel this way.  Shhhhh, don’t tell anybody that the Blogoddess has a heart.  I have to protect my cyber creds. 

It's not every day you get interviewed by someone....It's hard not to feel a bit special about the whole thing.  Yes, yes...it's an "experiment" set up by Neil over at Citizen of the Month where hundreds of people are participating...but it's still pretty damn cool when someone takes the time to read your blog, put together questions and then tell THEIR readers about you.  And from the looks of it - he and I have very different readers.

This was even more exciting for me since last year, during the same experiment, I got the opportunity to interview Carmen from Mom to the Screaming Masses...(which despite forgetting about one of her children, worked out pretty well)...But the person that was supposed to interview me never followed through.  SO.....this really made up for that.

He's already a favorite of mine...But that's because he said I made him laugh....Oh, he's also from Texas. All he has to do now is show up at my front door with a six pack and I'll leave my husband.

underOvr posted his interview with me today.  Go check it out


I'll be posting my interview with Lisa early next week...So, make sure you come back for that as well.

I have to take something I've said back. While although I have no intention of ever writing a book - a brilliant idea came to me while vacationing this last week that is going to force me to go back on that.

We vacation at Disney probably every year....Even before we had a kid.  We are big Disney fans. Myself more than my husband, but over the years he's become more and more of a "believer". In fact, we were even married there...as was my sister before me.

Sidenote: If you get the chance, and aren't married - I HIGHLY recommend it. I didn't lift. A. FINGER. I planned my entire wedding over email. Hell, if you've got the money - you can close the freakin' Magic Kingdom down and have fireworks just for you.

So, we are what you would call Disney experts.  There have been people in the past that have asked "I'm going to Disney in a few weeks, got any advice?" My response is always "Are you sure you want me to answer that?" Because...I have advice. Strange thing it - no one ever takes it. They always end up coming home with war stories, bunions, blisters, pissed off kids and parents that are seriously considering divorce. 

Two biggest pieces of advice I can give you.

1.  Chill the hell out.
2.  Buy some good shoes.

This is where my brilliant idea comes in.  I can not TELL YOU how many 3 inch heels my mom and I saw this last week.  She and I even have this look that we give each other that means, "Holy Shit Mom, look at that crazy woman in the leopard print heels".  So, I've decided I'm going to start taking my GOOD camera with me from now on - and I'm going to take pictures of peoples feet.

It'll be a coffee table book.  "The Feet of Disney" .... "Shoes of Epcot" .... "These Fools Are Going To Regret This Tomorrow" ... I don't know, I haven't worked the title out yet.  But I gaurantee people will buy it.  Especially if THEIR feet are so colorfully illustrated.

I'm the girl in layers....and ugly shoes.  Jeans, T-Shirt, Sweatshirt and a good ol' pair of walking shoes.  Next time you're there - Say Hi!  I also wear a butt-pack.  I'm SUPER hot.  You'll find us in Epcot, doing the beer crawl through the countries and getting henna art in Morocco.

P.S. My brush with fame.  That's totally the back of a Jonas Brother. I have no idea which one. I didn't realize that there were three until a drove of screaming 12 year olds were pissed that he wasn't there.

P.P.S.  I just asked my husband about the number of Jonas's...Jonasss....Joni....Hell, how many of those kids there are.  He said he heard one left, so there are only two. So, maybe that's why there are only two. We had a five minute discussion about if the actually LEFT, or is just doing a solo album.  We then realized that neither of us give a crap.

P.P.P.S.  It's upsetting that I'm going to get traffic here now because of the word Jonas.

While I would love to give the impression that I know everything...because, honestly, who wouldn't. I believe it's only fair that I point out the list of things I don't know in contrast to my last list of things that I do know.  I would like to point out though that it took me a long time to come up with this list - and it required a great deal of help.

As a side note, I had to go outside of regular parenting, because I couldn't come up with enough entertaining things. Not that I'm a rock star Mom or anything, but my kid is only 5....And I've pretty much mastered wiping her butt, cooking frozen pizza and picking out lice.  So...there is that.

*  I can not sew. Like anything.  I got these awesome drapes at Ikea about a million years ago - and the whole point of driving all the way to Ikea was because they were UBER long and cheap. But they came with this special sticky iron on crap. Simple enough. Cut the hem, iron the tape. Instant drapes. I couldn't even do that. My drapes look like I let my kid do it. Which is what I tell people.  However, I can scrapbook you around the block.

*  I can not tell you where North Dakota is. Well, I mean I know that North Dakota is above South Dakota...But that's about it.  If I had to actually pinpoint it on a map it would be "somewhere in the middle".  That's why I have a GPS.  And the internet.  Well, and planes.  And also, I really don't give a shit where North Dakota is.  I'm from Texas - it's pretty much the only state we care about.

*  My husband says I don't know anything about computers.  But he's full of crap.

*  I can not keeps plants alive. As hard as I try, and as much money as I spend, everything I plant in the ground dies a horrible, tragic, burnt to a crisp death.  I'm pretty sure that there is some sort of lava running under my flower bed.  Or toxic waste.  Or maybe an old cemetery and the dead souls are eating my plants.  Either way - everything dies. 

*  I can not paint my toes. I haven't paid for a manicure in forever - but God help me paint my toes.  I'm sure if I lost 30 pounds it would help. Being able to bend over at the waist would probably help with this task.

*  I. Can. Not. Shut. Up.  True Story Y'all.

You?

If you've had a baby, then chances are you've had a baby shower.  I had a lovely baby shower.  My mother threw it for me at her house.  We had it outside by the pool - and even though it was early August in Northern Virginia - the breeze was blowing, and the booze was flowing.

Sidenote:  Don't have a baby shower without booze.  The pregnant lady may not be able to drink, but if you are going to force other people to sit in 100 degree heat and Oooh and Ahhhh about little pink outfits for two hours...Make sure their half lite while they are doing it.

My sister gave me a scrapbook at the end of the day, with pictures that she took throughout the day of all the guests that had come - with little "words of advice" that each had written for me - tucked near their picture.  All of them were really nice...really they were.  And at the time, I'm sure I read each every one of them and tried to burn them into memory.  Most of the women that were there were already mothers, so I just KNEW that they knew something that I didn't.

However, five years later, I still haven't been able to take most of that advice.  For example:

Someone said..."Sleep when the baby sleeps".  Yea, I never did that.  I watched the baby sleep. Amazed that I had a baby.  And terrified that if I fell asleep she wouldn't wake up.  That just isn't advice I could take.

Someone else said...."You aren't your mother. Your house WILL be a mess"  Yea, that didn't work either. I still clean as much as I can, and I have an obsession with wicker baskets to keep all the crap hidden away.

My kid sister is currently growing a person - ready to blow any minute - so I've decided to give her some REAL advice.  None of this ooey gooey crap. Real sage advice that she can take to the bank.

*  Don't have a couch that has back cushions that can come off.  That shit is going to drive you crazy. Actually, if you can manage it - find a couch that goes ALL the way to the floor.  The amount of shit under my couch is disgusting.  Regardless of the amount of wicker baskets in my house.

*  Find a pediatrician that admits directly to the hospital and actually has PRIVILEGES at the hospital.  This will save you a lot of trouble if, God forbid, you ever end up there with double pneumonia.  Waiting 30 hours to see a doctor will give you an ulcer.  Trust me on this one.

*  You may sound like a bitch, but limit the amount of stuffed animals in your house.  What other people find cute, your child will probably find revolting and give him nightmares. I have trash bags full of teddy bears.  I will never end up as the crazy cat lady...but I run the risk of dying in my basement surrounded by 3000 teddy bears that I didn't know what to do with.  This rule also applies to legos and play doh.

*  I actually DO own a leash.  I don't CARE what people say. I have a child that runs. One day she and I will get past it, and some how I'm sure the 37th technique I try will work.  But for now - when we go to Disney, we use it. I sleep fine at night. The advice is:  If it works for you, go with it. Screw everyone else. 


*  If you have a funny feeling about your daycare. Trust it. Even if you are wrong - you lose nothing.

*  Right now you probably argue about money, or sex, or maybe who cleans the toilet.  Hell, maybe you don't argue about anything.  In a little while you are adding a person to the family. You WILL argue about that at some point in time.  Either diapers, or who gets up at 2:00 am, or just BECAUSE YOU FEEL LIKE IT. It's fine. It'll pass.

*  Don't watch Oprah. Or 60 Minutes. Under any circumstances Law & Order:SVU.  Or any show that involves children in bad situations. Basically just stick with the Food Network and Discovery Channel.

Any body else got anything? We want the good stuff y'all....

So you remember last month - my husband and I were going to take our first trip just the two of us? Three days of booze and sex and cuss words? And of course, 12 hours before we left I started my period.

What followed that was also bronchitis for both of us and my kid got her teeth knocked out.  In addition, a week later she came home with lice.

It's been AWESOME.

Well! This last Wednesday I started my period and because I am my best competition. I decided to check my daughter into the local hospital with double pnemonia.

About a week and a half ago - I think, honestly I've lost all track of time - she came down with a slight fever and was complaining of headaches.  The following Sunday it was the same - and because I am the very model of Paranoid Mother, I took her to the Urgent Care to be tested for the Flu.  Both H1N1 and Seasonal Flu came back as negative, so they sent us on our way.

Monday and Tuesday were more of the same. She just wasn't great - but not awful. She's pissed that she can't go to school. Pissed that she can't play outside. Pissed because the sky is blue.  Pissed because Elmo is red.  You know the drill.

Wednesday I decided to take just ONE MORE DAY to be sure whatever it was had past, and we were sitting on the couch...and something...I don't know...Just didn't seem "right".  I asked her if anything hurt. No. I asked her if it hurt to breath.  No. No temperature. No signs of struggle really.  Just this weird fast breathing thing.

I called the pediatrician, again PARANOID MOTHER, and got her in.  The next hour played like one of my anxiety attack nightmares.  We were at the Pediatrician office for all of 20 minutes because apparently my kid was on the verge of having NO OXYGEN!  AMBULANCE! EMS GUYS! LOTS OF MACHINES!

Needless to say, we were the hit of the Ped office that day.  In fact, I think the nurse we had that day was right out of nursing school - because I think he was about to have a stroke. The doctor had to kick him out of the room because he was starting to freak ME out. And I don't need anyone to freak me out.  I do that just fine on my own.

So, now I'm in an ambulance. With my kid. And she's freaking out. And I'm trying to make small talk, but she can't talk because she's got all this shit wrapped around her head trying to give her air and the EMS guy is talking into his walkie talkie in their weird EMS code - like the stuff you see on ER.

We get wheeled into the ER. LOTS of blood was taken. THAT was fun. Snot was stolen. Swabs and X-Rays.

Oh, did I forget to mention that my husband is TWO HOURS away and can't get to me.  So, he's currently trying to break the speed of light.  And because of the Swine Flu shit - the whole hospital is on lock down and no one is allowed in the ER but parents. So, MY parents are sitting in the waiting room with their thumbs up their ass.  If there ever was a time that I needed MY Mommy...It would have been then. Asshole Swine Flu.

So, finally she's admitted. We were there for about three days.  And it sucked ass.

That's where I've been. Sitting on a plastic couch, with a crappy Wi-Fi connection watching endless hours of Sponge Bob Square Pants and listening to the hissing sounds of a breathing machine.

She's back home now. No longer pissed about the color of Elmo's skin - and happily playing at school today. I, however, have finally found some alone time to sit and write here and have my nervous break down in private.

I will give every one fair warning before I start my period in November...Because I'm sure the Eastern seaboard will fall into the ocean.

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Before I close, a couple of things.  I know I haven't been around a lot lately, I think I have a pretty good reason...Please forgive for the lack of comments on YOUR blogs. I currently have 172 posts to read in my reader. I doubt I will be able to get through all of them....

Also, a quick shout out to "J" and her Mom. We've got a couple of new readers here. Hi Ladies.

So I sat down tonight to watch The Amazing Race, and as usual it's running late because 60 minutes is running late, because some football ran into overtime. I'm very used to this. Any 8:00 primetime slot on a Sunday always runs the risk of getting pushed back a little because of football.  I typically don't have a problem with this because it's usually only about 15 to 20 minutes that I have to wait.

Tonight it was an hour and 15 minutes.  And it wasn't even a football game I gave a crap about.

Here is the problem.  I'm not allowed to watch the news.  But it's hard to set the tivo up for "whenever 60 minutes MIGHT end", so I ended up just watching it so I would be there when my show started.  And of course they ended up doing a whole thing on H1N1.  Like I wasn't already convinced that this damn Swine Flu was going to kill us already - now I have to watch the experts tell me it's going to kill us.

It was a fairly fatalistic segment - Sweet 16 year old boy, perfectly healthy, now on a ventilator in ICU - bottom line was GET THE H1N1 VACCINE.  No need to tell me twice! I hear you! I've recently been told by my doctor that I have a compromised immune system because of asthma - so I even fall into the category of the folks that REALLY should get this vaccine! They even provided this handy website to go to find out where and when the vaccines will be!

Awesome!  While waiting for my guilty pleasure show - I'll go check it out! The POWERS of the internet! My health right at my fingertips!


Easy enough...Click on your state...Click H1N1...and it'll tell you where to go and when.

Click on MY state...."PAGE NOT FOUND"

Assholes.


So, what about y'all? Are you going to get the vaccine WHEN it becomes available? Or are you going to take your chances?

(if you are interested - go here - it's actually a well put together site - http://www.flu.gov/)

My husband is from Pennsylvania.  I actually wouldn't say he's from Pennsylvania - but he was born there. In a small town.

Like SMALL. Like - take a left at the big stump, pass the burnt down outhouse, drive down the gravel road until you see the green tractor - kind of small.  Throw a rock in this town, and you'll hit another rock.

He moved around a lot, but spent the majority of his life where we are now. Lucky for him, I say.  But a good portion of his family stayed there.  The part of the family we don't see all that often to tell you the truth.  Nothing against them really - but traveling the Pennsylvania Turnpike is a lot like playing Russian Roulette.

However, about a year before we were married his Grandmother was gettin' on, and the end was getting near - and she decided she wanted to meet me before she died.  Strange death bed request to make - I KNOW - but it was certainly a request we were willing to fulfill.

We took off in the snow and headed out to my Husbands No Name Small Birth Town to see his Grandmother.  We eventually landed at the Ramada Inn, Formerly The Holiday Inn, Formerly The Route 14 Hotel.  We know it was all these things because the remnants of the last three owners were still all over the hotel.  The sign said Ramada, the keys said Holiday Inn, but all the linens were prison stamped with Route 14.  It was an interesting hotel to say the least.

We open the door to our room which I can only describe as 90 feet long - but only 11 feet wide. The only things IN the room were a bed, the tv and a FULL SIZE refrigerator.  I'm not even kidding you.  This seemed to us like something you would want to highlight in your brochure - but this dual personality hotel didn't have a brochure.  So, it was like a neat surprise for unsuspecting guests.  "Hey! If I knew I could have brought everything from the kitchen I would have!!"

Perplexed by the size of the fridge - but determined to use the fridge - we set out for some dinner, and maybe a 7-11 to grab some beers for the room.

We grab some dinner at a local pub and as we were paying the check, I asked the waitress where I could pick up some beer. She responded "I'll get one for ya"

I explained to her that I didn't want another beer HERE, but we wanted them back at our room.
She kept telling me she understood and that SHE WOULD GET IT.
It took me a good 10 minutes to figure out that in PA, you don't GO to 7-11 to buy beer. You go to a BAR to buy beer.  And GET IT TO GO.  Seriously y'all - she gave me a six pack in a To-Go bag.

The idea still boggles my mind to tell you the truth.  The whole time we were there I did not see one 7-11.

I appreciate the fact that my daughter is being raised in a town with 24 hour Slurpee access.

We had the rare opportunity to drop our daughter off this last weekend, and get out of town for a few days.  I say it's a rare opportunity because we've never done it before.

Never.

In five years.

I've gone away for a few days, and my husband does travel quite a bit - but we've never gone somewhere....at the same time. He had this business trip planned for a while - and on a whim I asked if I could drop the kid off and tag along with him.  All the stars aligned and everything worked out.  SO....plans for SEX and DEBAUCHERY were planned. Capital SEX. Capital DEBAUCHERY. After he finished work of course - he's very devoted.

14 hours before we left I started my period.

This is just the beginning folks.  Grab a cup of coffee.

We're a few hours away from home, fighting the semi's and the motorcycles on the highway, and I realize that just by habit we are keeping the car at the appropriate "we have a child" level.  I immediately turn up the tunes and call every curse word I can think of in quick succession.  My husband, of course, just looks at me oddly and asks "Why do you know all the words to EVERY Bee Gee song?"

Then he starts sniffing and coughing.  12 hours later he's in full on "cold working on bronchitis" mode.

This is where it gets REALLY good.

We've settled into the hotel, me sitting as far away from him as possible, when I notice I have a message on my cell phone.  It's my daughter "Call Me Mama!", with my mom in the background, "Ok, hang up now." The voices were calm, so I wasn't worried.  I assumed she wanted to tell me about all the fun they were having - without me.  How much cooler it was to be with her Grandparents.

Turns out there has been a bit of an "accident".  She was walking up some steps...and I don't know...FORGOT HOW TO WALK and landed on her face.  She's now missing an entire tooth. Craziness ensued.  My mother almost had a stroke. Trust me....For the first time I've ever dropped her off for a trip out of town and within six hours the FIRST ACCIDENT EVER happens ON HER WATCH...(I love you Mama)....

So, at this point I really don't even feel bad for the kid anymore, I feel bad for my Mom and worried that she's going to run out of blood pressure medication before I get home. I offer to come home, which of course, she refuses, but we're still waiting for the dentist to call to tell us what's what.

In the end, everything worked out fine. Well, I mean everything with her TOOTH turned out fine. Meaning...we'll just wait for her big girl tooth to grow in.  She just may have a hole longer than usual.

Oh, I almost forgot.  My mom also told me on my return that when she was tucking her in at night, they were saying prayers and my daughter said she wanted to die so she could meet Jesus. 

So, my Mother is returning my child missing parts AND suicidal.

My husband also gave me his cold.  Asshole.

We're going back to traveling separately.  I'll just take my vibrator.

There's probably nothing that irritates me more than being wrong. That's not to say I can't be wrong - it's been known to happen from time to time. However, when you are so convinced that you are RIGHT, to only be proven that you are very very wrong...well, that just sucks.

It makes it worse when it was your mother that kept telling you were wrong - and you didn't believe her.

Obviously this has happened quite a few times in my life.

Like that boy that she told me I shouldn't date. I, of course, told her that he was misunderstood and really a fine upstanding gentlemen....Until the cops showed up at my folks house looking for him.

Or the time she told me to stop reading the internet while pregnant. Yea, I didn't listen to that advice either...and I'm pretty sure that's why I'm in therapy now.

And for the last few years she's been telling me that I may as well just drink a bottle of rat poisen for all the Diet Coke I consume on a daily basis.

Yea, I didn't listen to that either. 

Some of you may know Aunt Becky.  Over the last few months she's been having these really bad migraines - and her doctors put her on some of the same medications that I'm on for my migraines.  Turns out when she started taking it - She totally lost her taste for Diet Coke.  To people like us, this is devastating.  So I'm reading through her comments and got a pretty good impression that there are A LOT of people out there that feel the same as my Mom.  Aspartame is Poison!  Diet Coke was sent from the Devil! 

Since physical therapy doesn't seem to be working as effectively as I would like, and seeing as I'm running out of doctors AND ideas....I thought "what the hell!"

I'm day five Diet Coke Free....and damnit if I don't actually feel a little better.

Let me stress a little.

I'm not ready to throw my meds out the door - or change my blog name to Soda is for Sissies.....but still.

I told my mom yesterday about my progress....You know what she said?

"You mean what I'VE been telling you for 2 years didn't convince you...but comments from people you've never met on a blog did?"

Well...................yea.

Enough about the inner workings of my brain.....

*************************

I dropped my daughter off earlier this week for school, and the plan for that day was a field trip to the local farm.  Hugs and kisses goodbye - and before I left I asked her ...

"Ok, now remember, you've got a field trip today.  What's the NUMBER 1 rule?"
"Stay with the teacher!!"
"That's right baby. Good job.  Always stay with the group. Don't wander off."
"And don't give candy to strangers!"

*************************

For the better part of 9 years, the living room is mine on Thursday nights.  I've never missed a season of Survivor, and there's usually always something right after it that I watch as well.  This year, the Thursday line up is murder and I've got almost every DVR in the house set to MY specifications.  My husband, loving me as he does, left me alone and went upstairs to watch tv in the bedroom and left me to scream at the tv in private. He came back down about 30 minutes later.

"I'm going to bed"
"Honey, it's like 8:45...You okay?"
"Um, yea. But I can't watch ANYTHING ANYWHERE because every Tivo is recording your crap"
"You could sit with me and watch Survivor..."
"I would rather sit in the dark and wait until I'm tired...."

*************************

I was tossing and turning last night and hanging out with my brain for a while - when the MOST BRILLIANT IDEA came to me.  We should have GPS for kids! Like the ones we have for dogs...But, you know, for kids.  I worked the whole thing out in my head.  Not only is it a brilliant idea, and going to make me FEEL better...but I'm going to be a freakin' MILLIONAIRE. And as a bajillionaire I can afford a troop of therapists!  So, I googled it this morning.  Shit already exists.  This is what happens when you aren't allowed to watch the news.  What else has been invented that I haven't heard of?  Are you people jet packing to work and not telling me?

*************************

Spiders are attacking our house.  They are everywhere.  I'm trying to give my daughter a healthy outlook on bugs....But I'm finding it difficult when every morning I have to swing my purse in front of me to make sure I'm not walking through a human sized web. My husband went out to kill some the other day and I asked him if he killed the one with the 'yellow back'.  Apparently he didn't examine each one before murdering them.  I've asked him to take notes next time.  I would like confirmation that THAT one is dead.  He's got his eyes on me.

I've been told that I should not make a quick decision about this therapy thing.  However, after one session, I can tell you without a doubt....That I'm not so sure it's for me.  Or rather THIS therapist isn't for me.

First of all, the waiting rooms are weird.  I mean it was kind of what I expected...weird spa music piped into the room and these taupe walls.  I hear taupe is supposed to be soothing.  I suppose it is. But I kind of felt like I was waiting to be called for a massage. Which I suppose I would have preferred to tell you the truth.  But everyone is trying really hard to NOT look at each other, and figure out what THEIR issue is.  But it's not like you're going to slide up to someone and be all "So, what's your malfunction?"  So, you sit.  In the REALLY smooshy couch.  Which I looked like a total asshole trying to get back out of later.

2nd.  This therapist is very attractive.  Like if I was lesbian I might be interested attractive.  But she would be SO out of my league.  This is where the alpha-female thing comes into play.  Yes, neurotic. I'll admit it.  But I don't know if I can warm up, and eventually spill my guts out, to a woman THIS good looking.  She makes me feel like a shlub.  A fat, neurotic crazy shlub.  And there's really no worse shlub than that.

3rd.  There was A LOT of silence.  I mean, I suppose I was supposed to be talking during those moments, but I kind of felt like my sentence was finished.  I had answered her question pretty well. Really no reason to keep talking. So we stared at each other. Uncomfortable.  I told my sister that we should start taking like they do on telegrams.  ".....so that's when the panic attacks started. STOP."

4th.  Her office smells weird.

5th.  I'm pretty sure at one point in time, she gave me PARENTING advice.  Hell, I can get that for free.  On the street.

6th.  Apparently they are not allowed to have a sense of humor.  News flash: I make inappropriate jokes when I'm uncomfortable.  Therapy = Uncomfortable.  It's like when I go to the OB and ask her if she can hear the ocean.  But apparently this woman isn't allowed to laugh.  Kind of hurts the mojo if you ask me.


Ok, ok.  I know, I know.  No, I'm not quitting.  Yes, I will continue to do this, and I know I'm just being whiny about the whole thing.  I just need to decide if I will pursue someone else (like an older frumpy man with mis-matched socks).

But her office DID smell funny.

Two weeks ago I had no intention of writing any of this. Two weeks ago this was something that was just mine and those that I've told. A silent thing that I'm going through, and really no one else's business.

However, just a couple minutes ago something dawned on me. I'm not really all that embarrassed by what's going on, and maybe someone else is going through it as well, and has some advice or a different perspective.

I've always been a bit of a worrier. Worried to get somewhere on time, worried that my boyfriend might break up with me, worried that I would have money to pay a bill. Normal things that normal people worry about. However, once my daughter was born, I started experiencing some very SPECIFIC worries. I can't imagine that any mother doesn't really. Is she breathing? Is she choking? Is she eating enough? Is she happy?

NORMAL worries.

However, as time has gone by, my worries have turned into what I can only call, anxieties. Again, I don't think that any parent at one point in time hasn't had the thought cross there mind of "what if?"...What if she doesn't get off the bus? What if someone grabs her? What if she runs away? What if? What if? What if?

But in MY head those "what if's" stay there...for hours. Often times at 2:00 in the morning when I've woken up to use the restroom...I will lay awake for at least an hour or so contemplating the boogie man. Or the medicine cabinet. Or getting hit by a car. Or choking on those stupid legos she refuses to keep away from her mouth.

I'm already freaking out about her riding the bus....and even the possibility of that is a year away. How will she know where to go? Is there a teacher right there to show her to class? What if she walks out of the school? Will she know what bus to get back on? What if the bus has an accident? Do they have seat belts? What if she doesn't get off the bus? What if I don't get to the bus stop in time? Will she cross the street without looking both ways?

See what I mean?

The problem is...while this is happening I KNOW it's irrational. I KNOW it's silly....but I can't stop it. Let me assure you that being in MY brain is exhausting.

My husband and I have talked about it a lot, and I finally got the nerve to call the doctor. We talked for a while and it was mentioned that I may have some form of General Anxiety Disorder -or GAD. (as a side note: I told my sister that there isn't anything GENERAL about this anxiety. It's very specific. So, technically I have SAD. Which really isn't a thing...But we thought that was funny as hell) I blurted out almost immediately that I did not want to be on medication - which almost immediately made me feel like an asshole. Not because I WANT to be on meds, but because I know people that are, and I felt like I was saying that there is something wrong it. Which there isn't. My problem is, I'm already on a string of meds for the migraines....So, you know.

Anyway. So. He's sending me to a shrink. My appointment is tomorrow. I'm a little nervous about the whole thing actually. As of right now, this is pretty much only going on inside my head....But my biggest fear is that one day it's going to overflow onto her. No, she can't go on that sleep over because it's supposed to rain that night, and what if their house floods and they don't have a flood escape plan in place?

Sigh. I'm tired.

So, are any of y'all crazy?

The other day we were all sitting on the couch and my daughter pulled out her little doctor set. She's going through this phase where everyone's foot is sick. And has to be cut off. Yea, she's darling. So, in the middle of amputating his foot she told him to say something very specifically. Apparently when getting your foot cut off there are EXACT words you would use. Well, he kept teasing her and wouldn't use the EXACT words, and she was getting extremely frustrated.

Which delights my husband to no end.

She started using this high pitch squeal that only dogs could hear - three states over - so when my ears started to bleed - I simply explained to my husband that if she starts to develop a habit of repeating the same word three or four times each time she's frustrated...It's proof that it's HIM that makes us the way we are.

You see, much to his delight, I have this bizarre habit of repeating a word three or four times when he's being a horses ass.

"Why, Why, Why, Why would you do that"

Even after all these years it STILL makes him laugh hysterically. Which, of course, ONLY PISSES ME OFF MORE, which makes me repeat more words. It's a vicious cycle that he has created for his own amusement.

My daughter and I are currently planning ways to glue his butt checks together. We were thinking that we would saran wrap the toilet...but I would just get stuck cleaning it up.

In somewhat related news.

I was discussing with the man that I'm married to all these freakin' neck problems I'm having and that we've pretty much established that if I could just quit my job and not sit in front of a computer all day - I would be cured.

"You should get a better chair at work."
"No, my boss already got me one of those really expensive ergonomic chairs. Doesn't help. I think I'm going to take my home office crappy chair to work and switch them out."
"Wait. You're going to take the shitty chair from down the hall to work and bring the good chair home...To the office you never use."
"Yea, I'm thinking maybe I'm backwards. And that good chairs don't work on me. Only crappy ones."

After a long pause I said...

"These are the reasons you love me, right?"
"No dear - I love you despite these reasons"

Couple weeks ago someone sent me a link to "The People of Walmart". It's a site that's basically made up of pictures to make you feel better about yourself.

MUCH better about yourself.

If you are ever sitting around feeling a little low...Maybe you've put on a few pounds - or maybe you just got a bad haircut. Go hang out there for a little while. You'll feel better. Unless, of course, you're pictured there. Then I guess you'll just be embarrassed that someone took a picture of you with your mullet, 5 foot tail, transparent pants and allowing your child to put a plastic bag over her head.

Anyway, my husband has a twisted sense of humor, so I was showing it to him last night...and while he was wiping the tears from his eyes we came across this listing. People of Walmart

Over a year ago I did a post about this thing...So, I'm bringing it back up front for all to see.


***************************************
February 2008

I've seen this van driving around town for some time now, however this was the first time that I was able to grab my camera fast enough to get proof of it's existence.

Obviously, many things come to mind when I see this vehicle. The first and foremost is, what in THE hell is that? With the follow up of WHY would someone do this?

The picture is not all that clear, and I apologize. The idea of getting too close to it and the driver has me concerned on many levels though. While logically I would have to think that this guy is used to people snapping pictures and asking questions, part of me still thinks that if you get too close you might anger him and become hot glued to his bumper.

There is no writing or lettering of any sort on any part of the van, so I would surmise that he isn't promoting his plastic dinosaur store. So, clearly this man just likes dinosaurs. REALLY likes them.

There has to be some sort of support group for this sort of problem.

Interestingly enough, I've done some research on Virginia Vehicle & Driving State law, and apparently attaching thousands of dinosaurs (and one King Kong) to your ugly GMC purple van is not illegal.

Who knew?

Every two years my husband gets a new phone. I guess, it's one of those deals with the cell phone people...keeps you sucked into their service and their service plan. Trade in your barely used cell phone, get a flashy new one, this one has DIFFERENT BUTTONS! this one is SMALLER! This one will annoy your wife MORE THAN THE LAST ONE! Oh, and sign this two year service plan before you take it home!

So, his two years is up, and he ordered his new phone. Which is fine. But in all honesty, he's talking to me about it like I actually care. Honey! The BUTTONS! The RINGTONES! This one will make coffee for me! While he's going on and on about his new phone that's coming, my only question was, "You didn't spend any money did you?"

"No"
"Good"

He continues to talk about his new buttons. I casually mentioned that I wanted an iPhone. It was at this point in the conversation that he became dead to me.

First I got an eye roll so fierce that I'm surprised his corneas didn't come out his butt. Then I got an explanation of service plans and data plans and fiscal responsibility. Then he asked WHY I wanted an iPhone.

"Simple. I can't TwitPic with my phone."
"You can't WHAT?"
"Sigh. And you say you understand computers. I can't TWITPIC. I can't take a picture with my phone and upload directly to Twitter. I have to take the picture, EMAIL to myself, then go to my email, THEN upload, THEN go to Twitpic. At that point, it's not funny anymore. But I can't do any of that because I don't have a data plan on my phone. So technically technology is holding me back. I would be a lot funnier with less steps."
"You mean funnier to all of the 15 people that are following you on Twitter"


Shortly after that I twittered that he was an asshole and that I was going to kill him with all of the headless lego people that are in the house...and then I realized that out of the 15 people that are, in fact, following me on Twitter....He isn't one of them. So, I ended up just looking like a crazy woman, threatening to kill her husband with headless lego people.

Just for the record. He's still alive. But he still isn't following me on Twitter. A good husband would follow her wife on Twitter...and support her cell phone choices. Right?

So Tuesday was the first day of school. She's actually been going to the same school for quite some time, but she transitioned from "Junior Kindergarten" to REAL kindergarten...Which essentially meant she moved from one floor to the next. And now she has to wear a uniform. She thinks it's cool...for now. I imagine when the novelty wears off she'll be annoyed. I think it's awesome...Because now my husband can dress her for school without making her look like a boob.

I think one of the draw backs of being a working mom is that my kid is pretty much in school year round - so waking up for her first day of Kindergarten, while although exciting, wasn't THAT exciting. She hasn't missed any of her friends, she isn't experiencing anything TOO new, because she just saw it all last Friday. So, at dinner last night when I'm asking her about ALL THE EXCITING THINGS THAT HAPPENED! OH THE WONDERS OF KINDERGARTEN...She was all, yea, I saw all these kids last week Mom.

Here's the other thing. My daughter is in private school. It's a decision we made for a multitude of reasons - one of them being that the public schools in our area are not full day programs. So, I was still going to have pay for child care before/after school...or quit my job. We decided to keep her in private school for another year, and then evaluate again next year and see where we are. Private kindergarten is a hell of a lot more expensive than private Pre-K, and this next year is going to be really tight for us (nice timing with paying the car off, huh?)

This is where I'm going to piss some people off.

Out of ALL the kids in her class, I am one of TWO working moms. Some of them have two kids in this school....and they still had them come during the summer. I didn't think stay home mom's/dad's did that? I mean, if you don't work outside the home (and don't get me wrong I KNOW you work..I was a SAHM for the first two years) but don't the kids get the summer off, and then when you finally get them out you get that big sigh of relief when it's quiet again?

Look, don't get me wrong, it's just plain jealously - and I know that. But where do these folks get this money to pay for private school year round and not work? When I drop off, I'm always in my work slacks, etc...and they are in their yoga pants with a Starbucks in hand. All the moms stand outside the room and chit chat for a while - which I can't do - because I have to haul ass to get to work on time.

I know....I'm a big whiny baby today. They don't take naps in Kindergarten....and she's taking it out on me...So I'm taking it out on you.

Tomorrow I'm going to yell at all of you because of all the traffic. And the rain.

Me: You know we have to sit down and talk about this soon, right?
Him: sigh.......Yea, I know.
Me: We're running out of time. If you keep avoiding me, I'm just going to do what want to do.
Him: You can't make those decisions unilaterally dear. This is a family decision.
Me: I understand that. But we are running out of time. I've provided you with all of the information.....
Him: I just need more time....
Me: THERE IS NO MORE TIME ASSHOLE

It's the TIVO talk.Fall Season is almost upon us.I've printed out the Fall Lineup and we have to decide what shows are going to make the cut and which shows aren't.May sound easy to you....Especially in those weird ass houses that don't have TV's....But in OUR house.....

It's a big deal.

Next to my child and my laptop....being able to pause TV and fast forward through commercials ranks up there with orgasms.

What are y'all watching this fall?  I've got a few slots open this year. I'm open for suggestions.

Tuesday is my regular bill paying day. A good portion of those bills are automatically deducted - as I imagine a lot of people do these days - so I just double check on line to make sure every thing is as it should be. The other portion of bills are written out and mailed off. I gathered all my stuff together yesterday to settle down and start the process, and thought to check the mail box before I got started. Serious pain in the ass to get all the stuff done and put away, just to have a random bill come floating in a few hours later.

98% of the mail is total crap. A flyer here, a coupon for a retractable awning...Oh, flank steak is on sale. I'm about to throw everything away when a totally random blue envelope catches my eye - and even though I'm positive that it's crap - I open it up.

So, here is where you need to understand that I am ON TOP of my game, okay? I mean, I know when bills are deducted, how much, where they go and who they go to. I look over the credit card statement every month, even though it's not like THAT does me any good. I know down to the day when the cars will be paid off...Both of them next year (oh joyous year!)

So, the blue envelope. It's the title for my husbands car. Huh? What? I check I re-check. What the hell. I have another YEAR on this thing!! How could I be this off? Turns out I WAS that off. By a whole freakin' year. It was like finding a 20 dollar bill in my jeans...But having 10 pairs of jeans!!!

My husband comes home and kisses me and says "So, Happy Day! We own a piece of shit now!"

I'm quite certain just because of that statement all the wheels will fall off on his way home today.

Few months ago my husband and I were at the Town Festival, sitting with some friends, discussing the merits of the new Transformer movie. None of us had seen it yet, but he and I had plans to see it the next day, and were both looking forward to it. Apparently we had our own reasons of wanting to see it. I wanted to see it for the graphic details, fine acting, and non-stop action. He wanted to see it because of some hot chick that's in it.

And I'm totally kidding. Oh, not about the hot chick - about the fine acting. However, I did say that I would totally put Shia "on my list".

I hadn't really given it much thought until last night while watching Top Chef - a commercial for Diet Coke, featuring Tom Colicchio came on. I told my husband two things (after I rewound the commercial a few times).

1. It's about damn time someone put that man in a commercial
2. It's time I re-did my list.

March of '08 my list consisted of: The entire male cast of Lost, Oded Fehr, Viggo Mortensen, Matthew Perry and Johnny Virgil*.

I'm afraid some cuts are going to have to be made. It's tough, I know, and I'm sure that these guys will be crushed to not be included again...but maybe if they work hard, they can be included next year. It's a tough business boys - women worldwide are at the ready with their Sharpie Pens and laminating machines.

Shall we? In no particular order...

1. Shia LaBeouf - Thought this kid was adorable when the movie "Holes" came out...But I'm pretty sure it would have been illegal to put him on my list back then

2. Colin Ferguson - The actor from Eurkea...Not the Mass Murderer.

3. Hugh Jackman - I know, I know - Cliche. And I prefer mine a little less "Wolverine" and more "Australia".

4. Tom Colicchio - I've got a thing for bald men. Especially bald men that can cook.

5. Having a hard time filling my last slot. I could take the easy way and give it back to the cast of Lost - but that's probably cheating. So, this year it will go to Joshua Jackson - and I never even watched Dawson's Creek. Was his name really Pacey in that show??

Ok. Your turn.

*I need a separate list for blog writers....but I don't think my husband is going to go for another set of 5

Sometimes I think it's hard to wrap your head around this blogging thing...especially when trying to explain to people who either don't do it, don't read them, or don't even know what they are. There is an entirely separate community I'm a part of, that most of my friends and family are not a part of that I sometimes have difficulty describing certain aspects of it.

Perfect example. I was talking to a friend the other day and she and her husband were considering doing some major house work. Maybe an add on, like a sun-room. Or maybe a new deck. They were throwing some possibilities around, the finances, how long it would take. I responded that a friend of mine was in the middle of building a new garage. I didn't really think that it had to be clarified before hand that the friend was Carolyn, who I've never met, have never spoken to on the phone, and have no idea who her general contractor is. However, that was exactly what my friend asked for...."Oh, can she give me the number of her..." Well hell. I just simply said she's out of state, and left it at that.

I don't WANT to have to clarify the difference between these friends and those friends. But the truth is, they are different. I don't send y'all Christmas cards. I don't have your phone numbers. And what's worse...Sometimes you're just gone. With no explanation.

I know people blog for different reasons. Some would like to potentially make money. Some do as a "live journal", some do it just for the outlet that it provides. Additionally, there are a lot of reasons why people quit. Maybe it's just not something you can keep up with, maybe the sense of anonymity that you wanted is gone, or maybe something truly horrible happened where you feel you can no longer keep doing it.

Just in the last few months I've lost 4 blogs in my reader. Just gone. It was actually six, but one person sent me a personal email and the other kind of had a quick "last" post before shutting down.

It's weird to be on the other end of that. Not really close enough to call them and ask "What the hell?", but at the same time you've been reading about their lives for years, you almost feel like you, I don't know, deserve an explanation. Strong word I know, and not really how I feel.

But it can feel like you lost a friend in a way. Even if only a cyber-one.

Hey Booger....

I'm not entirely sure why 5 years seems like such a benchmark age; maybe it's because it's the age you have to be before starting kindergarten - which is about to open an a whole new world to you, or maybe it's just a nice neat number that fits all on one hand. But either way, today you are five years old, and let me be the first to say that I am amazed that we haven't totally and completely screwed you up.

There are some things that you know about me already - things that you have decided all on your own. I'm sure you think that I'm funny and silly - but also firm and strict. I imagine that's confusing to you. You probably think that I say no too much - and have weird rules about bedtime, holding my hand, Sponge Bob Square Pants and those little Bratz girls. I further confuse you when I let you stay up late for no good reason, give you pancakes for dinner or let you play in the sprinkler with your clothes on. All in all, 5 years old can be a very confusing age.

But let me tell you some things about your ol' mom that you don't know yet, but I'm sure will find out soon enough. I am a big freak of paranoid nature. I'm scared of everything, and there has not been a moment in the last 1,827 days that I have not been in a constant state of fear. I'm perfectly aware that you are going to fall and scrap your knee, fall off your bike, get your finger caught in a car door and get your heart broken....those are the things that I know will happen, and while although I wish they wouldn't - they will. Just know that I will always be behind you to pick you back up and put you back on the bike, or get your finger out of the door - or to break the legs of the boy that screwed you over.

However, these are not the things that scare me the most - it's everything that I can't put a band aid on that is the scariest. Everything outside the walls of our house...everything I can't see. All of those horrible things that seem to happen to "everyone else". Basically all the reasons why your father won't let me watch the news anymore.

I know you won't understand any of this right now - part of me is glad you don't understand. But when I'm getting in on you because you run away from me at the grocery store - or because you still haven't nailed the whole "look both ways" before you cross the street....Just know that there is a reason. There is a reason for everything. I don't say no to be mean, and I don't yell because I like the sound of my voice.

I do these things because I love you. Too much.

Now go eat your broccoli.

Over the 4th of July weekend we drove to North Carolina to see some family. They had just moved into a new house - and still in the process of having boxes in both old and new - but had manged to get all the furniture into the new house so we had someplace to put our lazy butts for the three days we were there.

We eventually ventured outside to check out the yard, and all the plants that she inherited, when my husband and I looked down and both saw the same thing.

"Oh No" we both said

"What? What is it?"

For the next 20 minutes my husband and I gave a full detailed description of the Cicada Wasp. Where they live, how they burrow. What they eat. Wingspan. Color. Shape. Size. Migratory Patterns. Sexual Preferences. Favorite Color and TV Show. And of course the most important bit of information, is that they are truly minions of the devil himself. We've been battling these monsters of evil for the last two years, we are experts.

"Well...okay. What did you do about it? How do we get rid of them?"

"Oh. Well. You could use a really big broom"

"We just stay inside for the entire month of August and use Vitamin D supplements. That's really your best bet."

I was cleaning out some stuff under the kitchen sink and came across an old bottle of Drano and started laughing immediately. I imagine to most people Drano isn't funny....

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Many years ago I took a week to visit my gypsy sister (they move so much you would think they were in Witness Protection) and her family in Palm Springs. My husband and I knew that we just a few months from trying to start a family - and that I would inevitable turn into a basket case - so I took some "me" time and took the trip by myself. I spent a few days by myself just laying around the pool, and then spent the remainder of the week playing and drinking with them.

The first day we spent together, she told me that there probably wasn't any beer in the house, but that there was a Quick Stop sort of store right next to the house, so I could stop if I wanted on the way over. Being the kind and considerate sister that I am, I asked if there was anything else they needed, since I was stopping anyway.

"Oh, yea, actually. The bathroom sink is stopped up. Grab some Drano!" she said.
"No problem. If they have it, I'll get it."

Following the handy directions she gave me, I found the Quick Mart and ran in for my supplies.

A 24 pack of Coors Light, and a big ol' bottle of Drano.

Now, I'm not entirely sure if I looked tired, or sad. But apparently the sight of me buying large quantities of alcohol and a big bottle of poison set off her radar.

When she handed back my change, she made sure she put her hand on mine and said VERY slowly "It's a BEAUTIFUL day. ISN'T IT?!?!?!"

That's why Drano makes me a laugh. I still feel bad that I never went back to Quick Stop for the rest of the trip - but my brother in law made all the beer runs for the rest of the week.

Before I even start, I realize that everything that I'm about to say is basically supporting what I'm 'soapboxing'...But I'm hoping someone can explain the behavior.

I had posted a while ago that we took Jon & Kate off our Tivo. It was a pretty quick post, nothing mean about either of them - I didn't really think there was a need. I think I said something to the effect of "I won't say anything here that hasn't been said somewhere else already". But at the time I wrote it, it was a "topic" of my day, our house, my life - so I blogged about it. Which I think is what a lot of bloggers do.

Unrelated to that, I spend a unhealthy amount of time perusing trashy celebrity websites; People, US, Radar Online, and TMZ to name a few. And not so trashy - EW and TWOP. I like my television shows, and I like movies - although I don't get to see as many as I like.

What I'm confused about is this. If everyone is SO pissed off at these two, and are essentially demanding that this show be taken off the air; spouting that they are exploiting their children, they are horrible people and they are only doing this for the spot light and their 15 minutes...

Why do they continue to give them their 15 minutes?

The posts about this family on the trashy websites have hundreds of comments. Hundreds if not MORE. Is it really so hard to understand that if you want the celebrity to die around someone - then maybe you should stop paying attention?

There's also this really popular website that is dedicated to them - but not in a good way (which I'm not going to name because I fear hate mail). I'll admit, I've looked at it quite a bit. And for the most part, they do make good points, and it isn't filled with just a bunch of crazy people screaming I HATE KATE...But what kills me is that the biggest thing they stand behind is boycotting the show - but they run detailed SHOW RECAPS on the website!

Maybe its just clearer to me than some. If I don't like something on t.v., I turn the channel. I don't buy billboard space and make a stink. I have enough shit going on in my life that I don't have enough to time to take on a "cause" as silly** as some reality show. Not to mention that they are only feeding into the one thing that keeps them on the air.

I guess I don't get it.

**Heading off the hate mail. REALITY SHOWS are silly. Not, I repeat, NOT eight small children. Those children are darling and precious of what I've seen and do not deserve any of this. Kids are resiliant and I hope that one day they all write tell-all books and make millions and live plush lives.

None of the following is enough for a whole post - but I jotted them down during the week and stuck them in the my purse.

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My husband has been out of town all week, so I've been managing the double duty again. I was putting her down for bed the other night, after a particularly long day at work and a rather brutal round of "what the hell did you make for dinner" and she asked me to tell her a story instead of reading her one. Considering how tired I was, and that I would probably just steal someone else's work anyway - I told her to tell me one. She seemed excited at the prospect. The following was her story. Word for word.

"Once there was a dog.
He ran into the street....
and then he got crush by a car.
The end"

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About a week or so ago we took my car in for a routine oil change and tire rotation - yesterday my car was in the shop because the $60 routine stuff ended up costing me $587 at the auto shop. Apparently they screwed the rotation up severely, and unrelated to that, my rotors are shot. I feel better knowing that the car is safer to drive, but the cost of safe driving is going to force me to not eat or drink for the next three weeks.

I offered the guy at the auto shop my ovary as payment, since I have no intention of using them anymore, and I have two...so, technically I suppose I could live with one.

He told me that he really wasn't in the market for an ovary, but if I had a liver to offer, we could talk.

I said "Well no, I HAVE a kid - I need that liver"

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I dropped her off at school this morning and spent a couple minutes talking to some of her friends while saying goodbye. This was the basic conversation...All said at breakneck speed.

"I like Dinosaurs!" said boy
"I had Apple Jacks for Breakfast!" said other boy
"Look At Me! Look At Me" said girl
"Today Is Pizza Day!" said girl again
"I like Pizza Day!" said girl again
"My Mom Thinks My Dad Is A Jerk" said other little girl

My daughter turned and looked and me and said, "She's new"

I prefer things to be on a schedule - and by being on my "I'm a tight ass" schedule, I can't stay up late and watch any late night programming. Like Conan or Letterman, or Cinemax. However, since the creation of Hulu, the hour I take in the morning to get ready is now filled with Late Night laughter and merriment - just two days later than the rest of the world has seen it.

Every morning I tune into Conan O'Brien on The Tonight Show - and have it in the background on my laptop. I've enjoyed him taking over The Tonight Show - and especially at 6:15 in the morning it really doesn't take much brain power to follow what's going on. Stand Up, Guest, Guest, Silly Prank, Music Guest.

However, since he's taken over ,my favorite bit that he does is TWITTER TRACKER... Have y'all seen this? Maybe it's the fact that they keep blowing up little animated birds, but I think it's a riot. I've always kind of thought twitter was a bit strange - and will admit that I don't really get it. I mean...Why do I give a crap what Ashton Kutcher had for lunch, right? But the bit that they do - about the IMPORTANT updates that these celebrities throw out there, well, I just think it's funny.

Totally unrelated to Conan O'Brien...Dad Gone Mad/Danny Evans mentioned on his blog that he was on Twitter. And I love Dad Gone Mad. So, off I go to Twitter to sign up - just so I can follow him. I didn't really realize that I would have to create an account with them to 'follow someone', but I did, because I like him, and with his book coming out soon - I imagined he was going to have some interesting things to say - but maybe not as much time to have daily posts. So, I joined for Danny. (I'm sounding a bit stalkerish, aren't I?)

So, I follow Danny. And that's it.

This is where it gets weird. I logged into Twitter this morning to see if Conan twitted - because I just think THAT would be funny as hell.....And I see that three people are following ME. Why are they following me?

So now I feel like an asshole. Because I don't twit. Or...I haven't twated? No, that's not right.
Now there's pressure. Pressure to write something that's more funny that what I had for lunch. Because it's really not interesting....at all....as a matter of fact....I didn't have lunch.

So....follow me on twitter...because today I told three people that I was an asshole and it's only down hill from here.

Apparently in the time it took to sleep a normal amount of hours last night, the sun came about 50 million miles closer to earth...because when we woke up this morning it was already pushing 200 degrees.

I exaggerate. But only slightly. It's one of those days in D.C, where you can feel your air conditioning cursing you, the tires on the car are actually melting into the pavement, and the radio has to stop every five minutes for public service announcements because it's not safe for old people or dogs outside. Apparently it's also too hot for 5 years old to play outside at school.

So, I kicked off work early and picked her up, knowing with out having something to excite her she was going to be a basket case when we got home. I have been putting off a certain task for quite some time - something I was thinking I would do right before the "official" school year started...it being KINDERGARTEN and all....But I'm afraid I can't put it off any longer....

I picked her up to get her hair cut.

I walked into her room, and casually mentioned to her teachers "Hey Ya'll - Say Goodbye to her long hair, we're off to get it cut!"

But apparently what I really said was "Hello Evil Child Educators! Release My Child From Your Dirty Grasps So I May Take Her Home And Set Her ON FIRE!" For the reaction to me cutting her hair was, well, severe - to put it mildly.

I'm a little afraid to take her to school tomorrow....Ransom notes on my windshield...Made of hair clippings....

Since we're on the subject of me being an awesome mom...

Every night after bath, I tuck the little one in - and she decides if she wants a book read or if she just wants to talk. Did you read that internet? I read to my daughter! I talk to my daughter! I may not feed her dinner - but I communicate with her! That should satisfy all you "talk to the children like they are real people" people.

So, anyway. Last night she decides that she does not want a book OR to talk. She would like me to make UP a story for her. Entertain me mother! And since I am a mother who COOKS DINNER now, I see no reason why I can't make up some interesting bedtime stories.

Not but 10 minutes before I walked into her room, I had been thinking of my 3 hour trek to Costco that I have planned for this Saturday to research meats and produce (don't judge), so my story begins with Talking Vegetables.

It was actually quite a captivating story...and the more I talked....the more interested she got. We had talking Asparagus, Tomato, Carrots and little baby radishes! These vegetables had adventures! These vegetables could talk! These vegetables were funny! And in this particular gruesome scene, they fought off the big bad Pork Roast - with a squad of Army Peas!

So, here's the problem. The more I talked....The more captivated I became. I actually started thinking what a fucking BRILLIANT idea I had had. I have never ONCE even considered writing a book - which is saying a lot considering I'm a blogger - but a Children's Book! About Talking Vegetables! It's Brilliant!

Kiss Kiss - Hug Hug. She's off to bed.

I'm downstairs doing dishes or some such, and planning out my 10 part Children's book - each book having the story line focus on one of the Major Vegetable Characters. I'll need a illustrator...Oh, I'll call my brother-in-law-law! But there's this small voice in the back of my mind that keeps knocking....

"something isn't right. something just isn't right"

Yea. It's called Veggie Tales you idiot.