The Mini Van Soap Box

Moving

2010-11-02T20:28:00.000-04:00

I've been feeling a bit uninspired of late. A little boxed in, as though I had created this persona that I couldn't keep up.

Minivan is shutting down - Or rather - Minivan is moving.

I have a new home - a new face - and new inspiration. I would love if you came over and hung out.

It's still me. Hopefully just better.

Come on over and say hi - and hopefully stick around.

http://www.insanelytogether.com

(just give me a break - I don't have all the tweaks figured out yet)

My New Disease

2010-10-06T10:55:00.000-04:00

The last few years, for the most part, been crap. At least medically. I'm not even going to link back to the numerous post about Doctors, MRI's, deadly migraines and exploding ovaries...so, let's just all agree that over all I've spent more time with Doctors than I have with my best friend. And I'm sure it has nothing to do with the fact that she fell is love and got married and is still in that blissful first year of marriage where pee on the toilet seat is cute.

I'm sure we'll start hanging out again in about a year.

Anyway, I'm a firm believer in being my own advocate. And even though I saw a slew of doctors - the truth was - none of them REALLY knew why my brain was exploding. So, I continued to see different doctors until the pain stopped - or until on of them could give me a logical reason as to why it was happening. Funny thing happens when you see a lot of doctors.

1. You get a lot of different drugs.
2. You get a lot of bills for said drugs. And apparently the health insurance company gets those bills too.

I will start off by saying I AM grateful I have health insurance. Very grateful. Even if I am baffled by the fact that they won't pay for 'alternative treatments' (acupuncture or massage therapy) but they will pay for me to have Botox injected into my neck. But all things being equal - I'm grateful that they are paying a portion of the medical bills.

At least until I started getting what I can only describe as Health Insurance Junk Mail. Apparently they have taken all of my claims for the last TWO years and diagnosed me. With Fibromyalgia. And because they were so smart and diagnosed me all on their own - they put it on my ever so official Health Insurance Chart. This patient has Fibromyalgia.

Health Insurance Nurse: "Hey! I have a great idea! Let's put her on EVERY SINGLE MAILING LIST there is for people with Fibromyalgia. Even though she has no idea what that even is...or even how to pronounce it correctly"

Health Insurance Nurse 2: "Hell Yea!"

Then began six months of going to mail box and going "What the shit is this?" and throwing it away. My health insurance company is partly to blame for the lack of oxygen because of all the paper in my mailbox. I finally caught on to what was going on and called them.

Me: Hi Insurance People. Do you think I have Fibromyalgia?
Insurance: Yes. Yes we do. We pieced it together from all of these claims. We are very smart.
Me: I don't have Fibromyalgia. Has an actual DOCTOR said that I have this?
Insurance: No. Not at all. Like we said. We are very smart. We figured it out ourselves.
Me: Well, I actually find all of this kind of condescending. I don't have Fibromyalgia. And you sending me pamphlets of how better to manage my disease just pisses me off. So stop. Unless you can diagnose the feeling of my brain trying to push it's way through my eye ball. Feel free to send me literature on that.

I did manage to ask before I got off the phone if massage therapy is covered yet. It isn't.

Forgot That Cootie Was A Game

2010-09-17T14:16:00.000-04:00

The first two weeks of school have gone fairly smoothly. No major upsets or disasters - and we've managed to make it to the bus stop on time - two weeks running! Only complaint I have is the cootie that she brought home as a present to me. This particular cootie has crawled up my nose and is firmly lodged in my brain - making me feel as though my head is swimming while the rest of my body feels like it's been hit by a truck.

*****
The other day, while folding and putting away laundry, my daughter came running into my room. She jumped on to my bed and said:

"Hey Mom! Can bugs hear?"
"I'm not entirely sure that EVERY bug can, but yes, I think some bugs can hear."
"K! Thanks!", and ran away

I assumed it was something she learned in school. How cute, I thought, she's still thinking about her studies when she gets home! Yea! School is awesome. She'll be brilliant! Then I started trying to decide how we'll pay for the Ivy League School she's destined to attend.

And then I heard the screaming from down the hall. I found a small child with her body pressed against the wall - screaming at the ceiling.

"HEY BUG! MY MOM SAYS YOU CAN HEAR SO DON'T IGNORE ME! GET OUT OF MY ROOM!

*****

Every so often my husband has to work after hours. He's usually home at a decent enough time, but this particular evening he didn't get home until after I had fallen asleep.

I can only guess that he wasn't as stealthy as usual while trying to change his clothes and set his alarm clock for the next day, because apparently I woke up.

I say 'apparently' because I don't remember much of this.

Turns out I was extremely irritated that he didn't have my sister with him. I shot up in bed and demanded to know where she was. How dare he not have her with him. My sister that lives 5 hours away. The sister that has no plans of coming to visit as far as I know and who was certainly NOT supposed to be in my bedroom at 1:00 in the morning. I can only assume his reaction was something like "Wha? Huh?"

I used to talk in my sleep all the time when I was younger. Interestingly enough, my sister would intentionally talk to me while sleeping - and then write down the crap I said. Something about strawberries, a snow man and a Smurf.

And So It Begins

2010-09-09T13:15:00.000-04:00

It's seems I'm in good company this week. I've read so many stories and posts about sending the kids back to school. Some folks are thrilled - some sent theirs off for the first time, so there have been tears and fears. Mine started 1st grade - and although we aren't new to the idea of school - we are new to public school.

For the last two years we've had her in private school. Not because we're private school people, or that our public schools suck, but because Kindergarten in our area is a half day program. I have NO idea who that's good for. Certainly not for the parents who have jobs. And I can't imagine any five year old can learn anything in the two hours that they are there. It takes me two hours to get her ready in the morning...So, I'm thinking just enough time to get to school, get the coat off, have a snack, pee and then back home again.

One of the things I love most about our private school - aside from the Teachers and staff is the privacy & security of the whole thing. One door to get in. One door to get out. Staff members sitting right at that front door...watching. And it's locked from the outside. You sign your kid in and out. For a mom that has some serious anxiety issues - this was good for me.

However, as time goes by I realize more and more that my anxiety is my own, not hers. I have to let her grow and do the things that she wants to do (within reason, of course!) She wanted to ride the bus - and as much as it killed me - I agreed. Now, that's not to say I didn't have the runs for the four days leading up school starting. And weird dreams. And quite a few sleepless nights. But Tuesday morning found us at the bus stop with all the other kids. Mom's taking the required 1st Day Of School pictures - and me hiding behind my sunglasses - smiling and chatting with the other Mom's - but secretly plotting how I can start home schooling her.

We are now three days into the school year - and aside from a few small mishaps - she loves it. I'm thrilled with her teacher, and from what I've been told from the other Bus Stop Moms, the school we go to is great. I've relaxed a bit more - and pooping a bit more normally, thanks for asking.

But I will never forget that cute little face pressed up against the school bus window blowing kisses and waving.

The Bus Stop Moms have told me that THAT novelty will wear off soon - and I'll be dragging her ass to the bus stop just to make it on time. Enjoy the moment while we can.

Started A Riot Last Saturday

2010-09-03T09:54:00.000-04:00

This last Saturday we went to a party at a friends house. It's always nice when the friends you have, that have kids, have kid friendly gatherings. You let the kids try to kill each other - while all the adult folk sit back, drink beer and make sure there isn't too much carnage. No one likes blood stains on their furniture.

The friends house that we went to is an old friend of mine, I've known her since high school. In the last few years she's been married and had a baby. I couldn't be happier for her - her husband is a riot and her baby is adorable. Perfect little Christmas card family. Her husband is Cuban American and his family is, obviously, as well - and lives in Miami. A few of them even came up for the party.

Hours into the party - kids asleep on the couch - the adults have mostly separated into two groups. The girls are inside talking about girl stuff and most of the guys are outside talking about....whatever it is they talk about.

I spent about a half an hour or so with the girls, and went outside to check on my husband (or to get another beer) and when I opened the door - all I heard was a very agitated Cuban talking about glue sticks. I leaned down to my husband...

"What the hell is going on?"

"I told him what was on the back to school supply list that you got. I think I might have told him how much a glue stick is..." he says

You see, I've spent the last month trying to get all of the supplies on this list - and every day I'm AMAZED at how much I'm supposed to send to school. 25 glue sticks, y'all. 50 pencils. Crayons, markers, colored pencils, highlighters, dry erase markers, scissors, tissues, antibacterial hand stuff, Ziploc bags, and sanitizing wipes. If you don't find the right store - and the right price - a large glue stick can cost up to $3.00. If you aren't willing to put the time to shop around - that's $75 in glue. Just glue.

Now what's totally awesome about getting a Cuban worked up...is half of what they say is in English and the other, well, isn't. And they talk a lot with their hands. And loudly too. Then his parents got into it. I've never heard such outrage! Over Glue! And somehow the conversation turned into how good of parents we are! "¡Increíble! If MY KID needs glue -¡Mierda santa! You call me! I'll bring him some damn glue! ¿Usted me está embromando? Freakin' Glue! ¡Pegamento!

My husband started the Great Glue Cuban Riot of 2010. I don't know if we'll ever be invited back.

1992

2010-08-27T11:02:00.001-04:00

The other day I ran over to 7-11 to get a Big Gulp. Actually I ran over to 7-11 to get a straw for the Big Gulp I already had - but felt weird just stealing a straw, so I bought an entirely new Big Gulp. That's me helping the economy, y'all.

Anyway. The guy behind the counter was trying to figure out how to give me my change and my eyes started to wander.

Ugly guy getting gas outside.

Oh, Look! The Power Ball is up to a gazillion dollars.

Hmmm...Two slices of pizza for three dollars.

Little sign behind the counter...."Patrons must have been born on/before 1992 to buy tobacco products"

Ho-ly! Crap!

Someone BORN the year I graduated from High School is now old enough to buy cigarettes. I don't know why it shocked me so much...But the idea that it's been 18 years since I was in High School just kind of threw me. The year I was barely graduating from hell - a baby was being born. And now that baby is walking, talking, driving, smoking, voting and probably a total asshole - because when your 18 you're an asshole by default. I certainly was.

So convinced at 18 that you know everything - and the world is your playground. Heading off to college and getting that first taste of freedom. It's only a few years from now that you realize you don't know jack - and want to move back in with your parents. Eventually you'll get your shit together. Settle down, get married, buy a house - get a real job. Get divorced, buy a different house, get a better job and marry again.

That's when you realize that you know less now than you did when you were 18. And want to move back in with your parents. With your husband and kids.

I'm at an age now where I should start getting mammograms. I'm not too far away from preparing for menopause and colonoscopies. My back hurts and I need to eat better. Vegetables and eggs give me gas and I have a stash of Tums in my bedside drawer. I hate driving at night and I own a freakin' Minivan.

12 years from now my own daughter will more than likely be an asshole herself. An adult in societies eyes and old enough to go out on her own. Hopefully by then I'll have taught her enough to let her go. And when I do let her go... I'm selling that damn minivan and getting a boob job.

Wonderfully Ugly

2010-08-20T09:56:00.000-04:00

People say that we have four seasons here. Even the calendar on my wall says it. Personally, I don't believe it. What we really have is Summer and Winter - and then Almost Summer and Almost Winter. However, if I had to choose just one season it would be summer.

That's not to say I don't love watching snow fall, or curling up on the couch in a pair of sweats with the fireplace going. I'm even okay with the occasional snow ball fight. Winter brings Thanksgiving, Christmas and even my birthday. What I detest about Winter is wearing a coat. Seeing my breath leave my body in my own car. The 20 extra minutes it takes to get my daughter out of the house because I have to wrap her body in fleece - and THEN she has to pee. I also hate pantyhose.

Summer is flip flops and tank tops. It's rolling her out of bed, brushing her teeth and chucking her butt in the car. Barbecues and fire works. Tomato plants and swimming pools. Summer is just, well, better.

Except when I sleep.

I can't STAND being hot when I sleep, and even though our central air is "fine" - it just doesn't cool the upstairs as much as I would like (without the $500 electricity bill). I toss and turn and sweat and throw covers around. He tosses and turns and sweats. A few months ago I actually asked him if he spilled water on his pillow. He hadn't.

So, apparently tired of hearing me bitch and moan. My folks pulled this out of their attic for me.

Isn't it the ugliest thing you've seen? It's even more horrible when you are looking at the back of it from the backyard.

DON'T CARE! This is now my favorite piece in the house. I show it to people when they come over. "Oh, do you like the paint job I did in here? How about the hardwood floors? Come see my WINDOW UNIT! It's the best!"

We only turn it on at night - and not even that high - but I have slept better the last few weeks than I have in months. I wrap myself in my comforter now and snuggle in. In even makes a nice sound so I can put my noise machines away.

Have NO idea what it's going to do for my electric bill though. I may be writing an entirely different post next month.

Pink!

2010-08-11T20:04:00.000-04:00

For the majority of the summer, the talk of the house has been 1st grade. What a big girl she is....How exciting it's going be....How different the school is going to be compared to where she is now...etc. etc. etc.

So, a few months ago she, quite matter of factly, told me that if she was going to be a big girl in the 1st grade, then she felt as though she deserved a big girl bedroom. Personally I didn't think she had a baby room by any stretch of the imagination. I was a bit perplexed about what part of her bedroom she dubbed as "babyish". So, I asked:

"What exactly is a big girl room sweetie?"

She looked at me...rolled her eyes so hard that they are still currently looking out of the back of her head...and said:

"DUH! Pink!"

After choking back a bit of vomit I thought: Awesome.

We agreed, as adults do, that I got to choose what colors would go in - and what accessories. Mom would do the room - and surprise her.

Because over my dead body was there going to be a pink princess room with a pink canopy and princess decals stuck to the walls. It was one of those foolish things I said out loud when I was pregnant and found out I was having a girl:

"I will never have a pink room in my house"

I am now, officially, eating my words.

It's taken me three days, many trips to Target and my house still has the stench of paint. But it's done. I unveil to the internet: My girls "big girl room".

This was her room before (which I still state for the record wasn't all that "baby")

Here is her room now

I'm actually really pleased with it - and she was THRILLED. I have some canvas boards that I'm going to let her color and decorate to have art for above the bed - which I think will give it a bit more of a child flair. And will also give her a sense that she contributed to her own room - since she basically had no say what so ever.

I'm sure, in the not so distant future, she'll want something different. And I'll tell her to go butt a stump.

Cats & Water

2010-08-05T19:57:00.000-04:00

An alternate title for this post was going to be: Seriously? NO! SERIOUSLY?!?!

And not just because I watch a lot of Grey's Anatomy but because SERIOUSLY!?!

I'm sure some of you remember that it wasn't long ago that we were giving swimming lessons in the basement of the house because the pressure release valve blew. Nothing we could have done about it. The house apparently seems to be at an age where it's bones are staring to creak and break and there's only so much of a preemptive strike you can do.

Not much to do but suck it up and pay the plumber.

We've been in discussion for a while about the possibility of a pet. Our daughter is at an age where she's old enough to appreciate and also possibly be a tad bit responsible enough to have one. Not to mention, I think it's important for children to grow up with a pet. You ever talked to someone as an adult that said "I never had a pet when I was a kid"...and for some reason people instantly feel sorry for them? Like what they were really saying was that their parents locked them in the closet, fed them liver and never let them watch The Great Space Coaster. Yea. It's like that. If you don't get a pet as a kid - you grow up to be THAT guy.

Here's the problem. I'm a dog person. My daughter is a cat person. And my husband doesn't give a shit - as long as he doesn't have to DEAL with the shit.

So, after a heated discussion (that took all of 10 minutes) we decided to get a cat. Here's the rub:

I'm allergic to cats.

I know. I know. Get an iguana. I've heard it before. Not very cuddly.

The truth is, I was raised with cats. I mean....we think she was a cat. Mom says she was...but I'm pretty sure she was part Doberman and part Puma. That cat hated everyone but Mom. She would sit at the bottom of the stairs and wait for me to head upstairs and then attack my ankles. Still have the scars to prove it, y'all.

So, it's all about WHICH cat and what are the rules. Long hair cats are automatically out. There are, apparently, some cats that just shed less - and have a "different" dander then some. So, the search for the perfect kitty was on. Hundreds of internet sites are bookmarked....Tons of emails have been sent out.

And then the water supply line into the house blew.

Plumbers are coming tomorrow to charge me $3400 to rip up my front yard and put new pipe in.

The kitty dream is dead. Thank God we didn't mention any of this to our daughter or else she would grow up to be THAT girl. The parents who dangled a cute little kitty in front of her and then ripped it away for a plumbing job.

Hot With A Side Of Girly

2010-07-27T16:30:00.001-04:00

This last week has mostly been a blur. I had days that I went to work. I had days that I went and worked on the deck again. And days of trying to pick up the slack on everything that wasn't getting done because I was going to work and/or working on a deck.

I suppose the main reason why it's been a blur is because it's 200 DEGREES outside. If I have to hear my mother say one more time "drink some water" or "jump in the pool to cool off"...well, I'll just...probably drink some more water or jump in the pool to cool off. Because it's too hot to argue with her.

We are getting much closer to the half way point on this deck - so we are starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel. However, by the time we're done we are all going to be so sick of hanging out with each other that I'm not going to be able to enjoy it. Not to mention I think they might still be pissed that I screamed bloody murder when he was about to chop through a power line. Which turned out to be an orange colored tree vine. Honest mistake...but everyone had to change their shorts after that.

I did, however, find time to make a gift basket for my best friend. She's recently married and they bought themselves a farm house out in the boonies. They are going to fix it up and mow the back 40 and milk cows...or something. All I know is that a new china place setting wasn't the appropriate gift for someone who's ripping down dry wall and re-plastering walls.

Everything I put in the basket is below. Emergency items for home rebuilding.

And some girly stuff. And squeaky tennis balls for her dogs. And a fire extinguisher.

Probably easier to just get them a Home Depot gift card....But then what would I use all my tulle for?

Piddle

2010-07-16T11:36:00.000-04:00

A few months ago my husband and I started the process of getting new Life Insurance policies. The ones we currently have are fine, I guess, but after talking about it for a while we realized that should anything every happen to him - my daughter and I would have to move in with my Mom. I already used the one "move back" that she gave all of us kids back in my 20's. So, that wouldn't be an option. Not to mention they are always renovating rooms and decks in that house - and I don't want to have to work that hard.

So, we looked into other options and found a better policy for about the same price as what we are paying now. Problem with new life insurance policies is there is a boat load of paperwork to fill out. And mess up. And then fill out correctly. Plus, there is that whole nurse coming to your house and taking your blood and pee and stuff. It's a very bizarre feeling sitting at your own kitchen table and having a stranger stick needles in your arm...The whole while talking about how much she loves the show True Blood. Totally not kidding.

I mentioned to my Mom a couple of weeks ago that I would be late to work one day because said Nurse was coming in the morning, and how much it was going to suck because you have to fast. The only thing I'm allowed to have is either water or black coffee for the 10 hours leading up to her arrival. She told me that many years ago she had to go through the same thing, however HER appointment was at 4:00 in the afternoon. At least mine was in the morning - so technically most of my fasting was while I was sleeping. She had to spend her entire day at home - with nothing but water. Turns out that the weird guy that came to get her pee actually made a COMMENT about how clear it was...."My Word! You are very hydrated aren't you!"

Fast forward to my appointment. I spent the better portion of the morning drinking water - mostly because I ALWAYS have a drink in front of me. Weird True Blood Nurse shows up and gives me my little cup. I fill it up to the little black line, wash my hands, and give her my sample. When I handed it back to her, I actually said, OUT LOUD - "Hey Look! Mine looks just like Mom's!"

Do you have any idea how hard it is to explain to someone that you don't actually spend a lot of time comparing urine sample's with your Mother?

Sunday Potluck

2010-07-12T16:14:00.000-04:00

There is nothing better than a bunch of good Christian women getting together to feed the masses. At my church, we'll eat for a slew of reasons. Someone died, someone was born, someone is leaving or joining. We make food when folks are sick and when they get better. I've been a member of this church for as long as I can remember and one thing is for sure....Those women can cook.

I've gotten to an age now that it's only right that I start doing my share - truth be told - that time past a while ago. So, this last weekend I pulled my weight.

I took a couple recipes from my new favorite cookbook, The Pioneer Woman Cooks - and also nabbed a casserole recipe from my Mama. Three dishes in total and just pray that one turns out okay. Last thing you want to do is bring crappy food to a Sunday Potluck. And trust me, you'll know if it's crappy....It'll be the casserole dish left with only one scoop out. Then you have to make the walk of shame to the big garbage can and dump the leftovers out.

Here's the casserole I took from Mama..It turned out pretty well and pretty easy to make. (full recipe at the bottom)

Here's what you'll need

Saute up the green peppers and onion with 4 tbsp of butter - just until soft

Add the soft bread crumbs, corn and eggs. Mix it all together and then pour into an 8 inch, greased, baking dish

Melt the last tablespoon of butter, mix with the dry bread crumbs and sprinkle on top. Bake, uncovered, for about 30 minutes at 350 degrees.

Take out the casserole

Sit down and enjoy a job well done with a cold beer and read about Cheesecake

Have your husband and daughter do the dishes

Next time I'm going to try without green peppers and double the onion and also see if sweet corn would make a difference. Now I will say that my husband thought it could use more salt...However, he and my daughter aren't happy unless they are licking salt off of crackers...So, if you fall into that category....go for it.

Corn Casserole

1/2 cup chopped green peppers

1/4 cup chopped onion

5 tbsp butter - divided

2 cups soft bread crumbs

2 cans (8 1/2 oz) cream style corn

1 can (11 oz) whole kernel corn - drained

2 eggs

1/4 cup dry bread crumbs

That Actually Makes Me Feel Worse, Thanks!

2010-07-01T15:33:00.000-04:00

It's been an interesting couple weeks here on the home front. School officially ended - and summer camp officially started. To her, it's a big freakin' deal. To me - it just means I don't have homework duty and don't have to worry about school uniforms. Other than that, it's the same routine, same school, same kids and same weekly bill.

Oh, we also bought a shed. That was the other interesting part - but I'm sure y'all don't give a crap about my new shed.

So, we've decided to transition to public school in the Fall and there's all this paperwork I have to fill out. Apparently the lady that takes the paperwork is taking the whole month of July off so I had to get it done quickly. Doctors notes, original birth certificate and the original Deed for the house. Yea. I have no freakin' idea where that is. So in it's place I took our mortgage bill, a water bill and a electric bill - all of them show our address & phone number. I assumed it would be enough.

I was wrong. Apparently she has a "check list" that she goes through for registration and it clearly says ON THE CHECKLIST, "Deed". Therefore I have to have the deed. Think about it, y'all! She breaks the rule for one parent and the next thing you know the whole public school system is down the tubes! Parents signing their children up for school with magazine subscriptions - junk mail - and all those other things that read "Resident" in your mailbox.

I also managed to piss her off. WITHOUT EVEN TRYING. I was raised to say Ma'am and Sir. So, every time she asked me a question I would say "Yes Ma'am". It wasn't until the whole meeting was over that she turned to me and said "By the way, My name is Sally - Not Ma'am". Well shit. I'm making a GREAT first impression. My kid is going to get the teacher that picks his nose or won't actually memorize her name until the school year is almost over.

And lastly, since I figured I had already stuck my foot in my mouth, I mentioned that I'm very nervous about the bus. "What are the procedures? Does she get help finding her classroom? Is there a buddy system or something? I'm just nervous she'll get lost or get on the wrong bus."

"Well, I certainly can't say we've never lost a child. But they always turn up"

This is why I drink.

Farmer I Am Not

2010-06-25T19:32:00.000-04:00

It's a wonder I look forward to summer. I imagine it's more because I detest the cold - but so many things just, well, suck, in the summer - that I almost forget that I hate the cold. And almost all of my problems are centrally located in my backyard.

Let me start of by saying that in a perfect world (and by perfect I mean where I have lots and lots of money) this is not what my backyard would look like. I don't really care for the patio. I can't stand those beams around it. The whole thing has sunk over the years - and during really bad storms the water comes crashing into the basement window wells and we have leaking issues. The whole yard needs to be re-graded, the patio removed, the beams removed.....blahblahblah. It's a lot of work - and a lot of money.

So, I do the best I can with what I have. I move on! I'm glass HALF FULL! I try to move the eye from the ugly to the pretty! Flowers! Bushes! Trees!

However...the ugly is winning the battle. There's only so much I can do.

Exhibit 1: My husband is a dork. And decided to get in a snow ball fight with my daughter...and apparently threw an ice ball instead. See? He still hasn't fixed it - so everytime it rains...or the wind blows...it shreds just a little bit more.

Exhibit 2: My daughter is over the moon for green peppers and tomatoes. I can't buy them fast enough for her. Awesome...I know! But expensive as crap. So, brilliant me decided to grow her OWN freakin' vegetables this year. And now the sun is just killing them! Killing Them! The sun exploded over my backyard and there is nothing I can do except build the vegetables a tent.

A letter from the Home Owners Association will be coming any day now, I'm sure. It will be addressed to "White Trash Neighbors".

Extra Crispy

2010-06-11T13:35:00.000-04:00

The summer between high school and college was a busy one. Saying goodbye to old friends and making sure you get in all the partying you possibly can before everyone leaves. Most of my friends were packing trunks for far away exotic schools. I was unable to go away to college - so I didn't really have to pack, or shop, or really anything. All I needed was a parking pass for the local Community College.....and a tan.

Spent a few days at the beach the week before school started and convinced myself that I could get a fantastic tan - in two days. It sounds logical when your 18. So, what does a dumb ass like me do? I laid out - from about 10 in the morning to almost 6 at night (I also never turned over). At about that time my mom came outside to basically CALL me a dumb ass and to get my lobster body back inside.

By the way, I guess it's important to mention that I wasn't wearing any sunscreen. At all. I know. Dumb Ass.

I won't tell the whole story, because honestly it's kind of gross and depressing - but let's just say after everything was said and done I wept through my first college class, got thrown out because I was scaring people - and ended up in the ER with 2nd degree burns on both my legs and arms.

Thus started the next 20 years of everyone in my life being on sun screen patrol.

This last week my husband and I got to spend a few days in Key West. Parts of the trip were great - some parts not so much. Like Delta losing our luggage. That was awesome. We learned a new acronym for Delta while we were there....Don't Expect Luggage Too Arrive. Funny, huh? Yeah, we were laughing our sweaty, nasty, non-teeth brushed asses off for a whole day.

When the luggage finally arrived, we decided my husband would just go get it...Instead of trusting them to deliver it to us - and I sat by the pool to wait for him. 2....maybe 3 hours total in the sun.

Ever been to Key West? It's fun isn't it? You know what else it is? It's a million miles closer to the sun. It's a special kind of sun down there - with a really special kind of heat. It's hot. We had the air conditioning in the room set to 63. And it wasn't even all that cold.

By Thursday night we knew I was going to have an issue - and by Friday morning I couldn't walk anymore. My right leg and ankle had swollen up so much it was starting to resemble my neck.

A week later - I've seen two different doctors - have about 2000 mg of drugs to take - some sticky white cream that I have to lather on 4 times a day - and a leg that STILL resembles a neck of a WWF wrestler. It's also a really interesting purple/blackish color. Ugly and crusty. Totally gross. I'm going to tell people that I saved people from a burning building....Because no one believes me when I say it came from the sun. So, it still looks gross - but I'll be a hero. And not get that "you fucking idiot" look from everyone.

Oh, and my Mom? She's PISSED. Like UBER pissed. But it's that scary pissed that a mom gets - when it's laced with sweetness and wanting to take care of you....But you know when you start to heal and get better she's going to beat you to death with a bottle of Aloe.

The only good thing that has come out of this is that I have sufficiently scared the shit out of my kid. Now she's afraid to go to the grocery store without sunscreen. She's determined to NEVER be as stupid as her mother.

I'm a walking Public Service Announcement. Except I'm not really walking all that well...more of a limping hobbling PSA.

Ouch

2010-05-26T11:45:00.001-04:00

About a week ago, I said something that hurt my mother's feelings - and as punishment I had to go over to her house and build her a deck.

I'm exaggerating. But only slightly. I did say something that hurt her feelings. And I did go over and help with the deck.

15 years ago, the three of us built the deck on the back of their house. I learned yesterday that it's 1400 square feet of deck. I don't think you really realize how freakin' big 1400 square feet is until you have to build it - or you move into your first apartment. Because yesterday, while demoing our creation from 15 years ago it dawned on me just HOW LARGE their deck is...and how very small my first apartment was - comparatively speaking.

So, it's time for the old to come out and for the new to go in. They got a quote for some new uber cool boards that they are going to use - and then the quote for just delivery of the boards and the quote if someone ELSE would build the deck for them. Let's just say it was an easy choice to build it themselves.

There are muscles in my body right now that are screaming - and these are muscles that I didn't even know I had. My ass hurts. It hurts to sit down. It hurts to get back up. It hurts to bend over. I actually had to ask my daughter to get my shoes on for me this morning. It's times like these where you realize you really need to get into the gym.

But given the way I feel I would rather blow up the nearest gym and then go for ice cream and watch it burn.

While sitting on the couch last night I asked my daughter to please not hurt herself in any way because I just didn't think I could muster the energy to save her life. Or even get up for a band-aid. That's how awesome I am.

I could tell you how awesome my Mom and I are with power tools, or how every single time we accidentally killed an earth worm we would apologize - or how I wasn't allowed to kill any of the 5 million spiders that tried to eat me....But even the tips of my fingers hurt, so this is all you get.

Please send ice packs.

The Apple And The Tree

2010-05-13T20:12:00.000-04:00

It all started with my folks having to go downtown. He had a "thing" at work. She wanted to go see it. I said I wanted to go too. What follows is why my mother and I should not be allowed together, in public, without supervision. Or maybe just not allowed together at all. Or maybe neither one of us should be allowed out of our homes- regardless of if we are together or not.

We don't go downtown all that often. So when it happens it's kind of an experience. We have to figure how we're going to get there, what we're going to wear, what time we're going to leave, when we'll get home, when the sun will rise, what we will be doing every second we are there, and what shape the moon will be in later that evening. It's kind of a big deal. Which to the males in our lives...going downtown is kind of .... "meh". They do it everyday.

We had a few hours to ourselves to just walk around - no problem. Shops, sightseeing, people watching. Turns out this week is the Policy Unity Tour downtown, so there are about 5 gazillion cops downtown. Makes you feel pretty safe actually. They are pretty easy to pick out - turns out cops come from far and wide to unite for fallen brothers & sisters. However, they can get pretty rowdy when the sun goes down. While standing at a street corner waiting to cross...MY mother says:

"You could jaywalk anywhere in town today and no one would care since all the cops are probably already drunk!" and from directly behind we hear...

"Not quite yet"

Turns out we were standing right in front of a cop and his lovely girlfriend.

Score 1 for Mom and I.

Shortly after that we were chased down an alley by some crazy man talking to himself...or us....or his imaginary friend. We really didn't want to stick around and ask him who in the hell he was talking to. Or if the voices spoke back to him.

And after THAT some greasy guy asked me for money, and when I POLITELY shook my head.....Well, let's just say he said things about me that I won't repeat on this blog. And y'all KNOW the language I use on this blog.

When we finally made it into his office, we learned that apparently my mother and I are wanted criminals.....Because it's the kind of office where we have to wear tags with a big red V on it and be escorted every where we go. Including the restroom. So, it was actually all very cool and spy'ish. Except I learned that my mother can't be cool when trying to be stealthy trying to sneak to the bathroom without trying to be noticed. I'm never taking her to break into a bank. She'll totally break my cover.

That was after we were locked in an office for an hour and decided to put lotion on our feet because we had nothing else better to do. And then realized that the lotion was so slippery and gooey that when we put our shoes back on we both fell flat on our faces. So we spent a good 10 minutes trying to wipe the lotion off - only to realize that we were trying to wipe the lotion off with tissues with lotion built in.

You need to understand at this point in the story that we have yet to actually start the reception or meet another living soul. We just do this when we're alone. And frighteningly so, sober.

We managed to get our shit together by party time. We were cool, calm, collected. We met people, we shook hands - we were thrilled to meet all the folks he worked with. It was a great reception. We met people we've only heard stories about - and finally got to put faces to names. And apparently for them as well. People seemed excited to meet us as well.

And I have to say - I think I have "some girls" now. Even if I did say to one of them that the lady bug pendant that she was thinking about buying was, indeed, not cute. And they did ask me a few times if my soda was, in fact, ONLY soda. I'm sure that was said out of love.

We ended the day with a final restroom break and while using the facilities I chatted away at Mom's feet. Only to realize while standing out in the hallway waiting for her - that my Mom was on the other side of the building. I have absolutely no idea who the hell I was talking to in the bathroom. Or what the hell I said.

History To Drink To

2010-05-05T19:55:00.000-04:00

Very few days go by that I don't talk to my best friend. Most of those conversations are nonsense.

I called her the other day to tell her that some lady was walking her dog. In a baby stroller. You can't make this shit up y'all. She was walking. With a dog. In a baby stroller. And she was stopping every so often, and peering inside...petting him...and then would continue to walk. I was stuck at an goose accident. Again, you can't make this crap up. Some asshole hit a goose on a small road behind my house. So, I got to spend a good 10 minutes watching this woman...I don't know...Stroll her dog.

It was one of the weirdest things I had ever seen. So I called her.

That's what I do when I see stupid shit. I call her.
It's also what I do when I DO stupid shit. I call her. And she agrees. "Wow, you're a stupid shit."

We also talk about Lost. A lot. We're scared that come the end of May we won't have anything to talk about anymore and our friendship will end. I feel as though that as long as there are stupid people in the world, our friendship will survive.

Anyway, I was talking to her the other day - and I'm not entirely sure what we were talking about - but somehow we got on the subject of Cinco De Mayo. And me, being the stupid shit said, "When is that?"

I'll wait here......Done? Ok.

We laughed for a while and I explained that on MY calendar at work it doesn't say 'Cinco De Mayo', it says "Battle of Puebla". So, of course we both immediately looked it up. Thanks Wikipedia.

The point of this post is that neither of us knew WHY we drink on Cinco De Mayo.

But we drink none the less.
And decided that I need a new calendar.
And a history class.

Happy Battle of Puebla Day!!

So Many Things Wrong With Me

2010-04-27T15:21:00.000-04:00

So much - and so little - has happened over the last week or so that none of it really will fill a whole post...So it's all here. Just sort of thrown all together like left over's. Consider it Soapbox Stew, if you will. Except no one likes stew when it's 80 degrees outside. So, serve it with a nice frosty beer...That's what I do.

My basement flooded. Again. Asshole basement. My daughter and I were all dressed and ready for church, when my heathen husband was downstairs about to start some laundry. I heard some...grumbling...coming from the lower level and decided to check it out. The carpet squishes now when you walk on it. It's very cool. There was also a large spider on the wall when all of this was going on. Which was ALL the child could fixate on. My husband and I were, obviously, concerned with the two feet of water in the FINISHED portion of our basement and where it had come from and she was all AND LET'S NOT FORGET THE SPIDER! HELLO! PARENTS! RIGHT THERE! BLACK WIDOW! Turns out the pressure release valve blew, or some shit like that. I sent her to church with her Grandparents and spent the next two days moping up water and rolling up very wet carpet. Oh, and yes, I killed the spider. I'm pretty sure all this happened because my husband doesn't go to church with us. He'll learn eventually.

*****

I went to a bachlorette party a few weeks ago. It was all mostly low key and just gals hanging out for dinner and drinks and celebrating an upcoming wedding. I got the chance to meet some nice ladies - and think I might have made some new friends. I spent a good amount of time chatting with this one lady who, like me, felt a little old to be doing "bachlorette" sort of things - but certainly didn't feel too old to sit at the bar and drink and mock those that WERE doing the bachlorette things. We were sharing some of the lamer things about ourselves when I shared that I have this weird thing about copying accents. Even when I don't mean to. (I shared this because the bride is marrying a British guy...and I can't seem to stop blurting out BANGERS & MASH! WANKER! BOLLOCKS!) She laughed a bit, and then asked me if I had Tourette's.

She was dead serious.

"No, sweetie. I'm just a dork who has an I.Q. of a sandwich."

*****

As I'm typing this, I'm making brownies. I mixed 'em up and put them in the oven and set the timer for 40 minutes. But apparently I DIDN'T set the timer, I turned the microwave on. For 40 minutes. I didn't realize for a good 20 minutes. See? I am a dork.

*****

Also, my crotch feels better. Thanks for asking.

Rock Star In The Bathroom

2010-04-12T20:21:00.001-04:00

If there is one thing I do really well, it's pee. Seriously, I'm awesome at it. If there was a category in Pee in the Olympics I would have Gold. Lot's of them. (Mostly because it seems to me that this would not have to be a Winter OR Summer event, which means I could compete every two years)

Not everyone can be as good as me. There are two things that make you an outstanding pee'er. How often you go and how fast you can do it.

I'm the girl you WANT to be standing behind in line of a crowded bar with only one stall. Trust me, I can drop trough, pee, wipe, get back in my clothes, flush and get back out in the time that it take most women just to lock the door and pick a place to put their purse.

I am, however, NOT the girl you want to take long car rides with. 6 hours turns into 7. Every time I stop to pee, I also have to refill my 64 oz. drink. So, yes, I do realize they go hand in hand. There is not a minute in a day that I do not have some form of liquid in front of me. And no, I do not have some disease that requires this...I just really like liquid I suppose.

So, you can only imagine my, er, discomfort, on Thursday night - when I COULD NOT PEE AT ALL and this horrible back pain with it. It honestly felt like all of my internal organs had....fallen down...and were now resting on my bladder. Friday morning came and went - and still not so much in the pee department. For someone who is so damn good at pee'ing, you can only imagine how troubling this whole situation was.

As any women would, I jumped to the logical conclusion of a UTI (sorry, guys!) and called my doctor. They got me in quick enough and a few hours later and I was peeing (or lack there of) in a cup. To every one's surprise, however, it wasn't what we thought. No UTI. No kidney infection. No nothing.

So, now what?

Take the drugs for the UTI and let's see what's what.

Just to be on the safe side, I called my OB and relayed the story back to them.

"Hmmmmm" was what I heard. "Given your family history, did they give you a sonogram?".

DING DING DING DING

Words I dread hearing. I'm plagued with broken twats in my family. I have the only living coochie left on my fathers side that isn't riddled with problems. My Aunt has survived ovarian and uterine cancer. My older sister, younger than I am now, had her uterus and one ovary taken out. We call her the penis sleeve. Her husband prefers penis sock.....Which ever you prefer. Problem is though, I make it a point of making sure I don't hear those words - because I don't go to the damn doctor.

(please don't leave me comments that I'm an idiot - my mother does this on a regular basis. In it's place you can leave me a comment that says "My dog eats his own shit", and I'll know what you mean)

This time I couldn't get away from it - because my lungs are now resting comfortably on top of my bladder.

Today I saw my OB. Apparently my left ovary had a ruptured cyst.

Awesome.

I know it's fine. Really, I do. I know it happens every day to tons of women. It didn't help that I have to go in tomorrow for further testing and that we talked about base lines, and family history, and uterine walls, cysts, CA 125's, and a whole bunch of other stuff that just sounded like white noise.

It did help though that I can could TELL her that my sister is a penis sleeve and she knew what I was talking about, and to better explain the procedure that I have to have tomorrow she used the words "think of a really really small dildo....with a camera on it".

I really like her.

I Don't Get It

2010-03-26T12:27:00.000-04:00

I assumed because she was five that she was too young to care about 'all things cool'. So, at this young age she wouldn't care - or even know about - all those annoying things that kids get sucked into and obsess about. Like Hannah Montana or the Jonas Brothers or whatever else is/was hot. Apparently I was wrong.

She's been freaking out lately about High School Musical. Now, I realize that it's already done, out and old - but in this house - it never happened at all. I'm not sure if she got a whiff of it in school, or maybe on video day someone brought it in, but for whatever reason she's been chomping at the bit for me to get her this movie - and I was not about to go out and actually buy these movies (Did you know there are THREE OF THEM?) just to find out that she hated them. So, I rented them on Netflix. And then I made the mistake of watching them with her.

And now I have a bit of a crush on Zac Efron. Sigh.

So, I figured because I automatically just crapped on High School Musical when it first came out and never gave it fighting chance, I would give some other movies that I had crapped on a chance.

Like Twilight.

Seriously? Did you guys really like this movie? Did I miss something? Or was it one of those "You needed to read the books?" kind of things? Because I really don't see it! Like....At all! Maybe I'm old school Vampire, but I don't want mine sparkling in the sunlight like a cheap stain glass window. Also I didn't think he was cute. At all. Kind of creepy actually. And most of all - I don't get her. Go, find a nice boy that doesn't sparkle, who eats real food and settle down somewhere - where you don't have to worry about him eating your Poodle!

I have New Moon in my queue, and I'll watch it. Because I'm like that. But I'm sure I'll complain about that as well.

Better Butter

2010-03-19T22:46:00.000-04:00

I've been battling this awesome head cold for about a week. The week before my husband had it - and I'm sure next week my daughter had it. It's the sheer joy of being a family. No germ can come home without it making it's way through everyone, and while although it sucks. - I appreciate at least this time it didn't hit my husband and I at the same time. I could pick up the slack last week when he was being a loser - and he can pick up the slack this week when I was CURSING HIS NAME FOR GETTING ME SICK.

Seriously, there is nothing that I have not blamed him for in the last week. Even the zit on my chin. Totally his fault. And you know what? I'm totally justified. He was sick. He came home and, I don't know, breathed on me. He also used the same chap stick as me. So....I'm kind of putting my money on that one.

So, I'm on the upswing now - and while although not 100% better - I'm at least functioning and I got a little feisty tonight with my husband.

We are "keep a stick of butter out of the fridge" kind of people. There's always some butter that's available under cover for toast, or whatever you wish, when hard butter just won't do. Biggest issue is when you use the last of the soft butter and don't pull a new stick out. The next person has no soft butter. My husband CLAIMS he always does this. Tonight I proved he does not. He found it very odd and quite humorous that I would keep track of the butter usage.

He compared this to my inability to turn a light off when I leave a room.

And while YES, I do have a problem with this. The difference is - I ADMIT I HAVE A PROBLEM. I actually TRY to turn the lights off, but for some reason, I just can't do it. He actually believes he ALWAYS replaces the butter!

Do you see the difference?!?! Internet? Do you see?

Ever wanted a waffle but couldn't because all you had was cold hard butter that wouldn't melt on your processed frozen waffle product??

All I'm saying is that I admit my faults.

I can't believe I just wrote a whole post about butter.

Dual Citizenship Makes Me A Bad Blogger

2010-03-09T10:46:00.000-05:00

I'm not sure when it happened, maybe six months to a year ago, but I know it wasn't my fault. I've depended on my iGoogle page for pretty much everything. It's the home page of every computer I look at during the course of the day. It has a box for my emails, my local weather, calendars, to do lists, reminders, and most importantly, my blog subscriptions. So you can imagine how irritated I was when Google went and changed the layout. Again, I don't remember when this happened.

Everything was different. Nothing was where it was supposed to be. All of my emails were now partially open which annoyed me to no end. If I'm not prepared to read an email - I don't want to just read the first sentence. So, I did some searching and apparently there were a group of people out there that were just like me and wanted the old way back. There was a fix. Just click on this and all of your iGoogle problems will go away. So, I did. And it fixed it.

I didn't realize at the time that I was converting my iGoogle page to a base page in Canada. But at the time I didn't care. My emails were where they were supposed to be - and my little boxes were all back in their rightful place.

It has, however, causeed some problems over the last year. Being as my iGoogle page is now firmly planted in Canadian roots - every time I search for something in Google I only get Canadian results.You have any idea how long of a commute it is to get a Tree expert to come and give me an estimate on tree removal from Ontario. And I was equally frustrated to find that a website for a pediatrician that sounded great - was in Alberta.

Watching the Olympics was quite confusing...I didn't know who to root for! Who am I now? Why do I keep cheering for these people in red?!? Google is changing me from the inside out! Why do I care if they get another gold! Stop it Kerrie! Oooh! Look at the pretty red...Listen to your Google!

I tell you all of this because my Canadian iGoogle is broken. My blog subscription list hasn't "listed" anything for about 3 weeks now and I don't know what else to do - because I'm QUITE sure that y'all are still writing stuff. So, I need someone American to fix me. Send me an American patch. I'm cutting my Canadian ties once and for all.

So, in conclusion, if I haven't posted on your blog in close to a month, it's because Canada made me do it.

Just Eat A Cookie Next Time!

2010-03-01T15:52:00.000-05:00

So, my kid has a thing for vegetables. Yes, I know....Poor me. I mean it's not like she WON'T eat a cookie...It's just that she would prefer a big bowl of cherry tomatoes or a green pepper with salt and pepper. Yea, yea...I know....Poor me.

You have any idea how expensive green peppers are though - and how hard it is to find a GOOD pepper in the middle of winter in my area? This is a typical conversation before I run out of the house to pick up a few things at the store:

Me: Honey, I'm running to the market - Do you need anything?
Him: Oh, yea - I ran out of shaving cream. And could you pick up some coffee filters.
Me: Sure. Sweetie! Mommy is running to the store! Want anything special?
Her: Yea! Green Peppers and a rutabaga! But only if the green peppers look good. No squishy peppers! If not green, then red. If not red - get yellow.

So, last summer my folks starting growing a garden in their backyard. It was great when we went over to hang out by the pool because anytime she wanted a snack we could essentially just POINT to the other end of the yard and she could yank a tomato off the vine and eat it, and then jump in the pool to wash off. (just another reason why I hate winter and am counting the days to summer. I have to actually WASH my kid in the winter)

So, with all the picking and the eating and the washing, they were able to get her to try a few different things. One of those things was a Jalapeno pepper. Because that's fun y'all. And honestly - if she's gonna get the shits - it's gonna happen at MY house...So, why not?!?

Well, she loved it. So now every time I go to the store and have to take her with me, it's all, "Mama get me a HOLLOW PEEEENO. And I usually say no. Why? I have no idea. It just seems weird I guess. Buying ONE jalapeno so she can have a zesty snack? Not to mention it's not going to fill her up, so 10 minutes later she's just going to ask for some bok choy anyway!

Well, this last weekend I gave in and got her one pepper. She was so excited to get home and eat it, I couldn't help but be excited as well.

We got home and I sliced it open and got the seeds out. I cut a little piece off for her to try - just to make sure it was what she remembered and not too hot. She plopped it in her mouth like a champ and was all "Hell Yea!". So, off she went with the rest of her jalapeno. I threw the knife in sink walked away to the bathroom to blow my nose.

This is where it all went to shit.

About the time I finished blowing my nose - she came running back into the kitchen spitting and screaming "Wrong Pepper Mama! Wrong Pepper Mama!" and this is right about the time I started thinking what the shit is wrong with my nose-holy crap-is there actual FLAME coming out of my nose-i think i just set the bathroom on fire.

Three hours later we can only assume that the peppers at my local grocer were mislabeled and I did not buy a jalapeno, I bough a habanero and essentially tried to kill myself and my child. We also figured out that I don't know JACK about hot peppers because I've been told BY MANY PEOPLE that it's pretty easy to tell the difference between the two.

My daughter isn't mad. In fact, after the whole thing was over, she looked at me quite casually and said "So....we shouldn't buy peppers anymore. Just eat them at Grand mommy's."

Good idea Kid. Let THEM burn your face off.

Update: I'm not entirely convinced it was a habanero. I've looked at pictures on the internet and they don't look ANYTHING alike. I'm thinking it might have been a Thai Pepper. It still makes me an idiot...but they look much more a like.

Stop Punching Me

2010-02-12T15:29:00.001-05:00

You know that phrase "one-two punch"? We're well past that. We've been punched repeatedly and left bleeding in the ring - except we don't have one of those guys like Rocky did with a glass of water and razor blade to cut our eye open so we can see again.

According to people smarter than me - we've had more snow this winter season than any winter season on record. Apparently they have been keeping records for 126 years...so technically NO ONE ALIVE has ever seen this much snow in this area. Isn't that FASCINATING? Yea, I don't think it is either. Additionally to a 126 year record breaking snow fall - we also have had more snow this winter than places that are supposed to get a lot of snow. Like Chicago. Or Minneapolis. And FARGO NORTH DAKOTA. You know what? That's why I don't live there. I didn't see that movie Fargo...but I know two things. They talk a little funny...and there was snow. A lot of it.

So, two weeks ago it started with a sick kid. And not the kind you can, you know, like FIX with drugs and stuff. It's that stupid word viral. Which in non-doctor terms means "Sucks To Be You Mom". So, she was home for almost the entire week. Then we got five feet of snow dropped on top of us in two serperate installments which essentially shut the entire state down for another week and a half.

We lost power for almost an entire day. That was fun too. I'll tell you what...I could never be Amish. Neither could my kid. I thought her head was going to explode. I had fun explaining to her that back in the OLDEN days...There WAS no Wii. She actually feels sorry for her Grandparents. The horrible lives they must have lived....walking uphill to school both ways, holding a Wii controller in their hand, but nothing to use it on.

So, eventually you make it out of your house - if for nothing else but to restock on beer, frozen dinners and juice boxes and that's when you get thrown in jail for cramming a snow shovel up someones ass. I'm no expert by any means - and when Town Official People tell me to stay off the roads or else I may die, I listen - however I know the general rule of driving in the snow if I have to.

First. Get the snow off your car. I love it when huge shards of ice and crap come flying at my windshield. It's like a video game. jerk wad.

Second. Don't slam on the brakes when you are on an incline...Especially if I'm behind you. douche bag.

Third. Driving like Ms. Daisy is not necessarily making you safer than everyone else...It's actually pissing everyone off because now we can't get any traction. asshole.

The slow process of digging out has begun and I'm sure in a few weeks when the slow thaw begins I'll start bitching about the water damage in the basement. Woot!

***********************************************
Update: Apparently the guy that cuts your eye open is called a Cutman. A bit on the nose don't you think.

Update 2: I thought that the Cutman from Rocky was Burgess Meredith...(that old guy from Grumpy Old Men) but it wasn't. I think that movie would have been much better if Burgess Meredith had slashed his eye open.

Update 3: I have no idea why I'm talking about this - I actually hate that movie. But not Burgess Meredith. He could call me if he wanted to.

Update 4: Shit. Nevermind. He's dead. That phone call would scare the crap out of me.

Pretty Sure My Neighbor Is A Witch

2010-02-04T09:27:00.001-05:00

We have had an uncivilized amount of snow this winter. I mean, truly, I don't think that snow is one of the 10 plagues...(because really, that's kind of a stupid plague) but I'm calling SNOW PLAGUE NUMBER 11. You know WHY? Because you get stuck. In your house. With your family. And there really is only so many times you can play Candy Land until you start bleeding from your eyes. And bleeding from your eyes ranks right up there with frogs and festering boils.

Additionally, snow is wet. It makes everything around it wet. For a long time. And when the snow keeps coming and coming and coming - it never melts. (I know, I'm a freaking genius right?) Now, it's not like anything round these parts is green and pretty around this time of year - but the wet and the moist just makes it worse. The grass and shrubs just aren't brown and dead, they are brown and dead and squishy.

Except for my neighbor. Somehow all of her snow melts. And somehow her grass is green. Like REALLY green. Lush and blooming. It's unnatural. Also, her car never seems to have that constant white film on it from all the salt and crap from the roads. Witch! Dark Magic! I'm positive she's got some serious dark mojo incense burning in her basement - which I BET doesn't have a mildew or musty smell to it!

In completely unrelated news - I got a nasty gram that I haven't' posted in like two weeks. It wasn't really nasty at all really - it was more of a "dude, where are you?" - and I was all "Oh, shit has it really been two weeks!?" You would think by being locked inside my house for the last month with no where to go I would time to sit and write something. But the truth is - when you are locked in your house nothing really funny happens. And I don't think y'all want to hear about my bleeding eyes or endless games of 'Guess Who'.

I did spend a lot of time of Haiti Relief. See?

That's a lot of toothbrushes y'all. Lots of people from my office and my church pitched in and we donated to a missionary group that was setting sail for Haiti at the end of January. Felt good to contribute SOMETHING since I'm broke.

But probably the most exciting news is that LOST is back on. There is much rejoicing in my house. Well, except for the five year old. I try to explain it to her - but alternate time lines seem to leave her cold and she phases out after about five minutes and she just starts mumbling "Candy Land" over and over again.

I wonder if the Witch could explain it to her.

Going Public

2010-01-14T10:22:00.000-05:00

Some of you may remember when I admitted here that I was a little crazy, and probably in some need of therapy or at the very least some prescription medication. Now, while some of you may think it was 'brave' to admit my issue here, the truth is, none of you know me and couldn't pick me out of line up if given the chance. So, it wasn't all that brave. Additionally, outside of my immediate family, most of my friends don't know I'm crazy. So, admitting here was more of a "I have to tell someone or go even more crazy, and I'm sure as shit not going to tell someone that actually comes to my house".

Since then things have been about the same. The night long panic attacks have been less, I'll admit, but the constant worrying over things is still always there. Problem is that the older she gets, the more activities there are and the more she's "out there". The latest and greatest of these activities is Girl Scouts. My girl is a Daisy now. Yes, it's all very cute and sweet and Girl Power - but I was slightly disillusioned about what the whole thing was about. I thought at THIS age, it was mostly just going to be meetings, and coloring and songs and some stupid crap. I didn't think the girls were actually going to GO places. I mean, they are only FIVE for crying out loud.

So, last night was our third meeting. At this point I would say I've only learned about half of the other mom's names and just learned what it means to "iron on" petals - when we got the schedule for the next three months. We spent about 30 seconds discussing each item and quickly moved on to the next...and this is when my heart palpitations kicked in. One of the activities involves dropping our girls off and THEN LEAVING THEM for quite some time. Even as I type these words I realize what a complete and total asshole I sound like for even freaking out about this, but my immediate thought was "over my dead body".

Here's the thing. I don't know these people. I only hired a babysitter after she babysat for a friend of mine for over two years. But I just found it shocking that not one Mom had any questions about this outing. Everyone just nodded their head, and we moved on. So, I think I might have inadvertently gone public last night with my...issues. With my daughters Girl Scout Troop. "Are you going to be responsible for our girls? Who's going to watch them? If I drop off my daughter DO YOU GUARANTEE ON YOUR LIFE THAT SHE WILL BE THERE WHEN I GET BACK?"

I never really got firm answers to my questions, but I did get some funny looks, and a few ladies asked me if I only had one child.

Yea, like I haven't heard THAT before.

Turn To The Dark Side

2010-01-11T13:52:00.000-05:00

It happened again.

Around the beginning of December, most of the TV/Movie/Music magazines I read were doing their usual "Best Of The Year" lists. Entertainment Weekly (online) has some great "Best Of" lists, that for the most part I've usually agreed with it - be it music, television or movies. (Just because I don't actually see movies IN the theater doesn't mean I don't actually SEE the movies. I just see them a year after everyone else does).

However, at the end of this last year not only did we get the "Best Of The Year" lists, we also got a lot of "Best of the Decade" lists. Most of these lists didn't surprise me. I haven't watched all these shows, but I've certainly heard enough water cooler talk about them to know that they were insanely popular - so not surprised to see them on a "Best Of" list of any kind. Like The Sopranos. Or The Office. Or Arrested Development.

I was, however, surprised to see Battlestar Galactica.

Now you guys know how EASILY sucked into something I am. Already in the last year my husband has somehow just merely MENTIONED a show...and the next thing we know I've watched TEN freakin' season of Stargate SG1. TEN SEASONS! That's devotion y'all. And then to further my embarrassment I jumped right into Stargate Atlantis right after I was done with that.

Netflix was created for people like me.

So, I'm reading through this "Best Of" list and I'm slightly surprised to see Battlestar there. Really? Best of? Why did my husband never mention it to me? Actually, as a matter of fact I do believe that he even once said that I wouldn't like it all that much.

Too Late. I'm knee deep in Cylons, and the search for Earth and the Final Five...whatever the shit that means. I keep running into the other room and screaming things like "Holy Crap is Starbuck a Cylon!?! NO! Don't tell me! Go Away!"

And he's all...."I'm in the shower you crazy woman....YOU go away."

The sad thing is...I KNEW going into this that this show ended badly. I mean, I remember when the whole show was over and my husband was upset. It was like that whole Soprano debacle. I never watched it, but I knew people were pissed with how that show ended. And even knowing that....I've invested this time in a show I KNOW is going to end badly.

I'm pretty sure my turn to the dark side is almost complete. I'll be going out this weekend to buy some 12 sided dice so I can start working on my charisma points.

P.S.          If that last sentence makes no sense to you, or if it isn't funny at all...You've never dated/married or MET anyone that's into D&D.
P.P.S.      That's probably a good thing
P.P.P.S.   I find it very funny that the only word in this post that the spellchecker won't give up on is Cylon.

Scam Me? Use Punctuation

2010-01-07T09:46:00.003-05:00

I had this great post put together about parents that will babysit for you, and Avatar and how awesome it is to get out of the house for a few hours because oh-my-gosh-being-stuck-in-the-house-for-two-weeks-with-a-five-year-old-was-making-my-brain-bleed. But I'm going to have to save it for another day because, well, that was pretty much it, and I was going to have to make it stretch.

However, I was thinking the other day about an article that I read a long time ago. I'm not sure who wrote it, or even why, but the basic premise of the article was do's and don't for bloggers. It was years ago that I read it, and I think that some of the rules have changed somewhat. I don't remember a lot of them - probably because I break all of them. They were things like:

Blog on a regular schedule. Try a Monday, Wednesday, Friday routine.
Don't curse too much. Don't alienate your readers.
Try to keep your post topics up to date and current.

See? What jerk wad wrote this?

However, the ONE rule that has stuck with me, and I have no idea why, was way down on the list:

"Don't ever start a blog post with the words, "The thing you don't know about me is....."

I wonder why? I don't think that would bother ME all that much if someone else said that. I mean, what IS a blog if it isn't about YOU? Right? However, I've gone back and realized that I have, in fact, never started a blog with those words. But I am going to use them now.

The thing you don't know about me is that I sell Avon part time. (This is leading somewhere, I swear. And it's not a sales pitch) I've been doing it for a while now, and I enjoy it a great deal. It's a little extra money in our pockets and it keeps me from selling all our stuff on Ebay. It works with my already full time job and I can do as little or as much as I want.

Anyway...for every company that sells something, there are people that are going to try to scam you. You just have to be smart and read between the lines. Chances are if some lady wants some body wash and a tube of lipstick it's legit. But when you get orders for 47 orders of Anew and 37 watches....Raises a red flag, right. How many arms do you have?

Other day I get an email just like this except this time, it's with the sad story. She's a single mother of two who fallen on hard times, but absolutely loves the products. However, she does not deal with credit cards (ding, ding, ding) at all. If I could please order these 38 things for her, she would really appreciate it. If I could please send her my PERSONAL (like hell) contact information, she'll be sure to send me the money (I'm so sure).

Here's the best part of the email. I've cut and paste it so you can see it in it's pure glory:

you dont need to be bothered by the shipment i have a shipper that ships for me and shipper is always busy, but the shipper has been shipping for me for the last 5 years so after you have received no problem about shipping.

What? Who? What shipper? And who's busy? Me or your shipper? And if your shipper has been doing this for five years, than why don't you go ask THEM for the 38 things that you want? I would also like to add that the entire email was like this. One enormous run on sentence with no punctuation or capitalized letters.

It was extraordinary. It was like those emails you get from the President of Bahrain offering to send you millions of dollars if you'll only send him your social security number.

Year End Close Out! Everything Must Go!

2009-12-28T15:08:00.000-05:00

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?

From My House To Yours

2009-12-15T17:15:00.000-05:00

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".

This is what my older sister calls me. She made this for me in college. My sister majored in Drama in college. Apparently after Drama class they had Arts & Crafts class.

This is 2007 White House Christmas ornament. I have, like, every single one of these. Since they were created. So, I have like 47 trees in my house. That's not true...But I do have a lot of them. My folks give me the next one every year....I'm looking forward to having a small "White House" tree one day for just these ornaments.

I have no idea what the hell this is. It's cheap and plastic. This is filler.

This is what happens when you let a 5 year old decorate. Now, I can do what MY mom did and wait until we all go to bed, and change everything back around to my liking. If she notices I'm sure I can make something up on the fly...I'll sleep well knowing that one day when she has kids of her own and they want to put all the filler ornaments on the top, the Christopher Radko's on the bottom and they lump everything so heavy on one side that it's tipping.....She'll call me and say "Oooohhhhhh!"

No true Texan doesn't at least have two or three of these on their tree. I'm not sure if that's the rule if you are still IN Texas....But if you are ripped out of your homeland...You have to declare yourself.

Every year we used to go to the beach - and at the end of the week - my folks would give out "awards" to everyone on the trip. One year I got a "sunburn" award, I think I got a "sandcastle" award once. This was my "Bite Me" Beach Award. Awesome.

This is just so you know who I married. Please send help.

Buy This Woman A Pink Sweater!!

2009-12-14T10:14:00.000-05:00

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.

***********************************************
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 am wearing a black and white printed top—polyester, a black pair of black slacks—polyester, and I am barefoot, as my shoes are the first things to go the minute I walk in that door. Did you notice the POLYESTER? I live by 4 simple rules for my wardrobe:

a) It must be washable and dryable in my world. Hell to the No on dry cleaning, linen, and hand washing!

b) It must be stretchy and comfortable. I joke and say that I have Clothes Autism. If it is too rough or too tight or too confining, I WIG OUT! My Mom has quit buying me clothes because I have so many texture/fit issues.

c) I adhere to the Grannamal/ Johnny Cash School of Fashion: If it fits, buy it in as many colors as you can, especially black. Oooooh, I love me some black clothing. My students get all excited when I opt to wear color. It’s like the scene in Wizard of Oz where Judy Garland sings Somewhere over the Rainbow. It starts out in black and white; then BAM! Kansas goes Technicolor. Yep, it’s that dramatic when I wear some color.

d) Opt for scarves over coats. I might wear a sweater or a cardigan, but I HATE COATS. So to keep warm, I love to wear scarves. I have scarves in so many colors, but at least three of them are BLACK. A girl can never have too much black. I’m just saying.

2. Why did you start blogging? Seems you started in July of this year but have a bit of a following - how's it working for you?

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!

3. Seems we have something in common....Our big boobs. Where do you buy your bras? Do they work for you? Back back? Do you use them to get free shit?

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”.

4. How's your 100 Things To Do Checklist coming? Marked anything off lately? (Am I still not allowed to ask about Number 1?)

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.

5. You seem to have a "thing" for Twilight. I've heard through the grapevine that there's a Vampire in that book/movie. Is it just THAT vampire - or all vampires. Cause I kind of had a crush on Spike in Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

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.

6. I see you are a bit of a world traveler....Best place you've gone? Worst? Why?

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.

7. You say you are a "happily divorced mom"....Finding single parenthood works for you? How long have you been doing it now? How has it changed from when you first started?

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.

8. Publishers Clearinghouse just knocked on your door! They gave you one of those big cardboard checks! It's for 20 Million Dollars! What do you do!?!?!?!

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.

Experiment Gone Right

2009-12-11T09:33:00.000-05:00

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 Found My Big Money Maker

2009-12-07T17:42:00.000-05:00

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.

Devil In The Details

2009-11-27T16:28:00.000-05:00

This is why he loves me. He just doesn't know it. But it's true. You never know when you will have a shampoo emergency while on vacation...and won't everyone say "THANK GOD YOU LABELED MY BOTTLE!"

I also realize that after doing this I could have simply put our real names on each bottle...But this worked out as a brilliant accident. If ever my family drives me so crazy...I can exchange them for a new one, and not have to buy and re-label our travel toiletries.

Always thinking ahead.

These Things I Don't Know

2009-11-20T14:32:00.000-05:00

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?

These Things I Know

2009-11-10T17:46:00.000-05:00

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....

My Period Is A Sign Of Natural Disaster

2009-11-03T09:23:00.000-05:00

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.

This Is Why I Don't Watch The News

2009-10-19T09:11:00.000-04:00

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/)

Get It To Go

2009-10-13T14:02:00.002-04:00

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.

My Mom Broke My Kid

2009-10-08T18:22:00.000-04:00

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.

I Hate It When She's Right

2009-09-30T14:40:00.000-04:00

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.

Goulash

2009-09-25T11:13:00.000-04:00

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!"

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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...."

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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.

First Impression

2009-09-23T11:21:00.000-04:00

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.

Anxiety Is Just Another Word For Crazy In This House

2009-09-21T15:13:00.000-04:00

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?

Why Girls Use More Words Than Boys

2009-09-18T12:47:00.000-04:00

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"

Coming To A Town Near You

2009-09-16T10:00:00.000-04:00

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.

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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?

I'm The Better Spouse

2009-09-14T10:34:00.000-04:00

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?

This Is Where I Piss Off All The Stay Home Moms

2009-09-09T13:55:00.000-04:00

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.

The Talk

2009-09-07T22:36:00.001-04:00

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.

See? Money Can Buy Happiness

2009-09-02T16:27:00.002-04:00

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.

New Year - New List

2009-08-28T13:30:00.008-04:00

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

We're Friends...Right?

2009-08-26T15:21:00.004-04:00

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.

1827 Days

2009-08-24T00:41:00.000-04:00

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.

We Didn't Lose - We Gave Up

2009-08-21T09:42:00.008-04:00

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."

It's Like Leaving Las Vegas - But It Was Palm Springs

2009-08-17T15:28:00.004-04:00

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....

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

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.

I Don't Get The Gosselins

2009-08-14T20:08:00.004-04:00

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.

Wrap Up

2009-08-14T08:59:00.008-04:00

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.

**************************************************************************
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"

**************************************************************************
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"

**************************************************************************
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"

Conan O'Brien Made Me Do It

2009-08-12T14:01:00.009-04:00

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.

No Wire Hangers

2009-08-10T18:37:00.004-04:00

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....

Because At Age 5 - Brilliance and Plagiarism Are Interchangeable

2009-08-07T12:15:00.003-04:00

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.

Do You WANT To See Me Cry

2009-08-05T09:40:00.006-04:00

I would like to think for the most part, I'm a good mom. For all of the jokes that I make here, and all the mistake I've made along the way, at the end of the day I'm pretty proud that I actually grew a person - and that I've managed to keep her in one piece this long. She's well cared for, fed and clean. She knows how to brush her own teeth, put away her toys and wipe her own butt. She's cute as a button, friendly and oddly enough seems to be pretty smart too.

However (you knew one was coming), while I would love to keep writing about all the good that I've done and all the right choices I've made in the last five years - clearly not every choice has been great.

Like that time I sent her to school with a peanut butter sandwich, peanut butter cookies, and celery with peanut butter.....To a non-peanut school. Rookie mistake.

Dinner has always been a questionable time in our house. There were a few things that were discussed when my husband and I got married - and of those things - his laundry and his meals were two things that I made sure he understood would not be automatically be done by me. As long as we are both working full time, these two things would not be dubbed as "pink jobs" and fall on my shoulders. If he wants to wear dirty clothes, that's his business. If he wants to eat steaks and mashed potatoes every night, that's his business as well.

The other 'stuff', I realize falls to me. And not because it has to....but mostly because he doesn't care/or realize it needs to be done. You know...stuff like...dusting and vacuuming and shit. Anyway, I'm getting off topic.....Where was I? Oh, right, dinner time.

So, we had a kid. And for a while they just drink stuff. And then they just eat baby food. And since she had the misfortune of being born into a family that eats dinner at two different times a night, we got into this weird time schedule of eating rotations at the house. She eats around 5:30 or so, my husband would eat after her, and then I eat after everyone goes to bed.

All very strange I know.

So, this last year the 'Mama, this looks funny' and the 'Mama, I don't want anything but pasta' and the 'Mama, NO!!! BROCCOLI WILL KILL ME' has finally reached it's limit, and about a week ago I told my husband that I have had enough. I'm tired of fighting about food, and while although she is partly to blame, we are as well. We've never given her a real idea of what it's like to ALL sit down and eat. What it looks like when we ALL sit down and eat the same thing.

So, Family Dinner was born.

So, that very next night, I run home from work and within a half hour have food splattered all over the walls and have shit in every single pot I own (I'm really hoping I get better at this). She is BESIDE HERSELF with excitement....like this is the coolest thing we've EVER DONE...which of course makes me want to sink into the hardwood floor and die. She wants to be part of it - set the table, fold the napkins, cut the onions (No, I didn't give her a knife...remember I said I'm a GOOD mom). We finally all sit down to our first official dinner and dig in....

She turns and looks at me and says "Mama, It's like we're a FAMILY!"

Kill me. Kill me now.

My VeggieSaurus

2009-08-03T11:44:00.005-04:00

My best friend has a new man in her life, and the relationship has gotten to the point where introductions are being made. I imagine when one is younger, you introduce the new boyfriends and girlfriends to every single person you know, but as we age - this just seems pointless and quite honestly, exhausting. There really is no point in making the rounds unless you actually LIKE the person. So, anyway, my husband and I got our turn to crawl up the new boyfriends butt and get to know him. Something I've been looking forward to for some time now - and something I'm sure she's been nervous about.

Because as you can imagine, if you've been reading here for a while, I can say some really stupid shit.

And she likes him. And the last thing you want to do is introduce your new boyfriend, that you actually like, to your best friend who can't stop talking about her vagina.

So, we laid out some ground rules before hand. No politics, religion or penis/vagina talk. Easy enough. The only other thing is that, like my friend, he's a vegetarian. So while she has always been an extremely polite vegetarian (meaning she doesn't snub her nose at others and fill conversations with slaughter houses and the ridiculous sizes of chickens assholes) she did throw that info out there in case it mattered to me.

And then she said, "Don't Go Overboard!"

The last thing I wanted was a big stuffy formal sit down dinner, so we decided to just do finger food/appetizer stuff. A spinach dip, some deviled eggs, our famous "veggie pizzas" and a homemade carrot cake. In my head it really wasn't overboard at all...Really...It wasn't. I just always forget how labor intensive some things are...and also how MUCH food he and I can make for just 4 people. So, of course by the time they got there it looked like we were feeding an army.

I'm happy to report that I didn't mention my vagina once all night. But, sadly, I do think I talked about pooping for an uncomfortable amount of time. And not cute baby poop. Adult sized crap. So that's unfortunate.

Personally, I think the evening was a great success, and we like him a great deal - and I didn't stay awake all night having panic attacks over all the stupid shit I said, which means I'm growing as a person.

Except for one small thing.

I think vegetarians are evil.

I have never experienced so much gas in my whole life. Next time I'm serving Bean-O and GasX in small candy dishes.

(I totally stole that picture...But mine looks exactly the same so it should count...Please don't throw me in internet jail....I'm admitting it's not mine)

Vindication

2009-07-30T20:17:00.008-04:00

It was probably the summer of '05, and my sister and her tribe had come for a visit. My daughter was probably just about 10 months old - still chunky, babbling, all smiles and chewing on everything in sight. She and I were still currently living in our little bubble of life. Me, paranoid that everything outside the bubble would hurt her. Her, oblivious to everything outside of the bubble. We're hanging at my mom's pool - drinking, laughing and carrying on - passing her around like the trophy she is.

At one point she's sitting in her stroller, chewing on her fist or some such, and "talking" to my sister about the finer points of a Martha Stewart magazine when my sister hands her the magazine...when I simply tell her "please don't give her the magazine...she could get a paper cut...in her eye"

Yes. In Her Eye.

Well, you can only imagine what happened next. For the next four years I've received shit about EYE BALL PAPER CUTS. My entire sisters family has enjoyed tormenting me with steno notebooks and loose leaf paper. "Kerrieeeeee" they'll say from across the room...."Ooooohhh" waving around newspapers and junk mail while sounding like ghosts "Cover Your Eyes!!!"

You know that whole "You could poke your eye out" saying? Well, in our family it's been changed to "you could get a paper cut ON YOUR EYE".

Neurotic? With out a doubt. However, I don't argue that fact, and take the rubbin'. When the jokes roll - I take 'em as they come - because the truth is - for the most part - they are funny and I know I'm over the top. And honestly, how many children have you REALLY heard of losing their eye sight to horrible paper cut accidents? I mean, really, do YOU have an insurance policy covering this horrific freak accident?

How ironic that I'm cruising through Facebook last night and an old friend of mine has an update that he's being "fit for an eye patch because of an PAPER CUT ON HIS EYE BALL"

WELL! Because I am completely incapable of thinking before I act. I clicked...

"Kerrie Likes This"

She's Missing Her "P"

2009-07-29T09:13:00.003-04:00

We're standing outside the dental examination room, shortly my 5 year old has had her first cleaning and has thoroughly impressed the entire staff with her ability to sit still, open her mouth wide and be charming all at the same time. I, of course, can see through her scam. I see the gleam in her eye. I can hear her thoughts...."I do this in public Mama, so everyone can think I'm a princess...and think you're a bitch when you complain about me."

Regardless, she was in fact, a perfect patient. So, while there are no other patients in the office, the entire staff is showering my child with gifts - and by gifts I mean handfuls of floss and about 12 different child size toothbrushes and proper cleaning technique pamplets - it was like she had gone to a Dental Convention. If I hadn't stopped them they would have started giving her office supplies.

While all of this was happening, I was chatting with a few ladies at the front, keeping an eye on her, paying the bill - basic Mom-Multi-Tasking. One of the side conversations turned to my daughters play kitchen in her bedroom and how this last weekend "Mommy and I organized my kitchen".... I laughed out loud and mentioned how pleased I was that I have passed some of my OCD to her. This was when I realized that I really need to know my audience and REALLY needed to actually LOOK UP the phrase OCD...because I don't have it. But this lady clearly does.

It was like I was comparing my hang nail to her brain tumor.

Her eyes sparkled. It was like she had found someone from her mother ship. She literally took a step closer to me. She talked of her pantry and her refrigerator. Apparently at first her pantry was organized by food item, but quickly realized that there are far too many food items IN a pantry - so decided best to do it by shape and size. How is YOUR pantry organized? Her refrigerator, however, has clearly marked index cards to label where each item goes. She found early on that the index cards can deteriorate over time, so she eventually got a laminator. Do you use a laminator or a lable maker?

My response was simply "Oh....I don't think I'm that bad off". She was deeply saddened by that news.

I've since looked up OCD. It seems to me that neither of us have it. What SHE has is OCPD, Obsessive Compulsive Personality Disorder - which apparently is far different than those people that have to like wash their hands 25 times, or lock a door over and over again.

What I am is just really anal.

The Way We Are

2009-07-27T14:50:00.004-04:00

I suppose there comes a point in time in one's life, where you should just be happy with what you have. I don't mean like the shit in your house...because I'm never happy with that stuff...but I mean what you HAVE. Maybe your hair is full and luscious, but so is the hair every where else on your body. You have a great rack - but your ass is flat as a board and looks like a 12 year old boys butt. Or, just maybe, you have given birth to the greatest kid in the world and still five years later you are blaming your gut on her.

Yes, the above is me, ya'll. I have strong, healthy hair - but unfortunatly I have it everywhere. I got me some big ol' boobs which my husband is a big fan of - but my back goes directly into my legs - not giving me much to sit on. And the birth of my child (and consumtion of a few beers) has given me that slight "bump", that has stopped me from tucking anything in for about 5 years now.

You might remember that a while back I mentioned I was looking into laser hair removal. If you do, you've been here for a while, because that was well over a year ago. Which in case you didn't know....it shouldn't take that long.

I'm done with all my appointments - and that would be six that I paid for and three that they gave me for free because I have mutant unkillable hair and they feel bad for me. But I'm still not done....But since I couldn't afford this shit in the first place....I have to stop now. Which is, quite honestly, extremly annoying. It basically feels like I've let a total stranger shoot lasers at my pits and cooter for no more than practice for the last year. And let's not even talk about the numbing cream...and the last appointment went a bit weird and it looks like they used light bulbs to burn my armpits......Sigh.

I could have saved all that money from laser work and taken my hairy self to BlogHer....

Only upside to all of this is that I am WAY more comfortable going to the OB now...At least she has a purpose being down there.

Update: I just read this again...and realize that I've made myself sound like a woolly mammoth. I'm not. I don't want to scare anyone from actually meeting me. But if thinking I'm a furry creature makes this strange post funnier than it really is...go with it.

Intermission

2009-07-20T20:12:00.002-04:00

I got a call tonight from a concerned family member. It was brought to my attention that I was going to "lose my following". I, of course, had to explain that I really don't have a following, but never the less understood the point. I've taken a bit of a break and really have no explanation as to why. It's a mixture of many things really.

Mostly it's my doctor's fault. He told me that I'm no longer allowed to do anything in bed anymore except sleep and have sex. No reading. No tv. No lounging. And no laptop. For some this may not sound like a big deal. But taking my laptop out of my bed...well, let's just say he may as well have told me that I'm only allowed to have sex with my husband on every other Tuesday in the garage. It's proving to be that difficult.

That's where I did all my laptop stuff.

We think that we are narrowing down some of the migraine stuff, and I've started a course of Physical Therapy, which all sounds very physical and therapeutic. But really it's all very S&M and painful and all I want to do in pummel him with the waiting room chair - if I had any strength left in my arms.

In other news, I've spent the last 30 minutes telling everyone in this house that they have no respect for the house that they live in. It escapes me how many times you can walk by something and NOT PICK IT UP and put it away. But apparently the way I yell, is quite amusing, because my husband and daughter have spent the last 30 minutes laughing at me. Clearly I need to work on my communication skills.

I know that the majority of you are preparing to pack up and head out to the BlogHer conference....To you...Travel Safe. Drink Much. And know that you are taking my deep jealousy with you. One of these years I will make it. Have a drink for me.

Clever Swedes

2009-07-01T09:16:00.002-04:00

Three weeks ago was our "take a week off and get shit done around the house" week. Day 1 of that week was removing sod from our front yard and moving it into the backyard. Yea. Removing the front yard, and putting it in the back. It's NOT as easy as it sounds. If you ever get the chance. Don't. Buy the sod and have it delivered.

Long story short is that I have no flower bed to speak of in the front yard...the previous owners either hated flowers or really liked clovers, weeds and some groupings of grass here and there. In addition, there is a huge area in the back yard that has nothing. Just nothing. Dirt. With weeds. So, kill two birds with one stone. Cut the big ass flower bed that I want, but cut the grass so we can keep it, roll it up and sod the back dirt pit.

Day 2 found us asking our 5 year old daughter to wipe our butts for us because we couldn't lift our own arms.

We were no where close to being finished after Day 1, but given that there was no way I was bending down and picking up a shovel, we decided that Day 2 would be errand day. There were some odds and ends that needed to get picked up and one of those things were some inexpensive drapes from Ikea...which is unfortunately about 45 minutes away....and the website wouldn't let me order them online. Clever bastards.

Off we go to Ikea - when about halfway there my husband tells me a story of how, in his youth, he and his friends used to make a day out of going to Ikea. They would all carpool, and drive the hour and spend the day...hanging out at Ikea. I, of course, spent the next 20 minutes making fun of him and explaining how fortunate it was that he married me and that I saved him from such a life. I finished off by explainging that I have never BEEN to Ikea. Ever.

His response was simply: oh crap.

"What? No. It's not a problem. We're just going to run in and get the drapes. I really don't like their stuff anyway. I look at the catelogs, and all their stuff seems kind of plastic and modern....Not really my style. Just the drapes. Then we'll head home and take a nap."

Did you know that Angels sing when you walk into Ikea?

4 hours later.....I got my new drapes...

an entertainment center and new bedroom furniture.

Won't Lie

2009-06-26T13:16:00.002-04:00

I've been listening to "Michael Jackson Radio" since I got to work this morning...and I honestly forgot how much I enjoyed it when I was younger. The "Thriller" album (actual album) was the very first in my collection, along with Tina Turner - Tiny Dancer and Bruce Springsteen - Born in the U.S.A. and played all three on my record player until they were warped.

I remember seeing the video for the first time - back when MTV had actual videos on it - and thinking how freakin' cool it was.

Do you remember how the album cover opened up - and the inside was a big picture of him with like a baby tiger or something? I TOTALLY wanted a baby tiger when I was a kid. And as hard as I tried - I could never master that damn moonwalk thing.

Now, I'll admit I would never have allowed my kid to go to his house....But I do have fond memories of his music....and I really think I'm annoying the crap out of everyone in the office right now.

Lesson In "Girl"

2009-06-23T16:50:00.002-04:00

I bite my nails. Have for about 35 years now. Well, no, I suppose that's exaggerating slightly. I doubt seriously I came out of the womb biting my nails. You want to talk about giving a new mother a complex..."How BAD was it in there!?!?"

Anyway, the good news is, I don't anymore. About five months ago I was driving around in the hot van, and was casually changing the station and was just suddenly appalled at the site of my hand. I screamed out "ARGH, STOP BITING YOUR NAILS"

And shit on a shingle. I did.

I've tried this method in a few other ways since my nail biting break through.

"Stop Eating Donuts!"

"Stop Watching Bad T.V"

"Stop Drinking Beer"

"Stop Fantasizing about Shia LaBeouf"

Apparently this yelling at yourself 1 step program only works once in a lifetime. I'm fine with that really. Personally - bad tv, beer, donuts and Shia go rather well together.

So, now I have nails. Nails I'm rather proud of. But now I'm faced with a whole new set of problems.

Now what do I do?

Apparently just GROWING them isn't all I'm required to do, like that wasn't hard enough. I have to CARE for them too! And I've never experienced this whole "damn, I just broke a nail" thing before....Let me tell you something....It's pretty horrific.

So, I dropped a whopping $36 dollars today and got a pedicure and my very first manicure. Interesting experience all around.

First they made me pick a color. Forgot about that part. Personally, I think they should divide the colors into "Over 30" and "You're Too Fucking Old For This Color", because now I'm sporting this bright pink/orange shade that I swear I just saw another girl wearing in my daughter's kindergarten class.

Then you spend the whole time trying to pretend that you aren't offended that they are probably talking about you and how much you smell, but since you don't understand the language, you just pretend you are watching CNN.

And lastly, I never knew my eyebrows were that bad. But APPARENTLY they are. She must have asked me 4,000 times to wax them. I thought the first few times it was just them trying to make a buck or two - but clearly after that many times - I MUST look like Sylar.

So, now I'm sitting here, pulling my eyebrows out, with color in my hair, because my grays don't match my nail color.

Rude or Respect

2009-06-16T19:32:00.003-04:00

My idea this week was to post our many adventures from working on the house, however, while dropping the kid off at school today, I caught an interesting conversation on the radio that I wanted y'alls take on.

Before I get into it, I need to start off by saying, I was born in Texas. Regardless of how long I've lived in another state, I will always consider myself a Texan - as is the majority of my family. So, I suppose by most standards you would consider us southern. That might be important later.

Apparently at some point in time over the weekend, this woman on the radio, required help of some kind at some store, and at some point someone had the audacity to call her ma'am...or maybe it was madam...I'm not entirely sure. And while I will admit there is a difference between the words ma'am and madam (I'm thinking brothel), this woman was BESIDE herself. She apparently even had a problem when considered a Miss, or a Mrs.

To her, the phrase or word, Ma'am, represents AGE. So, therefore if I was to call someone Ma'am, I am clearly saying that they are OLD.

I STRONGLY disagree with this. I was raised to understand that Ma'am and Sir represent respect. To this day, my parents are STILL Ma'am and Sir. And while that may give off the impression that my family is cold and uptight, let me assure you, that if my Mama calls for me down the hallway and I answer "Yes Ma'am", that's not say my follow up response isn't "Kiss My Ass".

If a woman drops her wallet outside the grocery store, and I see it happen....chances are I'll chase her down in the parking lot and say "Excuse me Ma'am, I think you dropped this."

Not "Yo Lady, This yours?"

This has been something that my sister and I have talked about many times. The countless times we've been asked to NOT call someone by their proper name...(Don't call me Mr. Smith, that's my father's name), only to get our butts kick later by our folks for being so informal with adults.

Obviously I don't know what the divide is. I know back home, it's a non-issue.

What I DO know is that when I holler up the stairs to my daughter and get a "WHAT?" instead of a "Yes Ma'am?".....I silently wish I had cattle in my back yard.

Broken & Bruised

2009-06-10T19:47:00.005-04:00

I realize that's it's been forever since I've posted anything - but the truth is - that today is the first time I've been able to lift my arms in about five days, let alone type. Once a year my husband and I take our annual "take a week off to get shit done around the house", and this last week was that week. We've been in our house for about two years now, and there have been so many projects that are just impossible to get done with a small child running around, that we started this tradition.

They are typically large scale projects. Projects that usually require monster power tools that could cut limbs off. So, I feel better knowing that she's at school and not going to zip around the corner to show me Barbie's naked boobies.

This last week proved to be no different in the hard work and power tool category - expect for the fact that the power tools were our arms and legs. I have many stories to share of our adventures, and many pictures to post of our progress. Far too much for one post.

You may remember that a few weeks ago I posted how my office was actually our formal living room, and that all of my craft and art supplies were housed in one armoire. It was only about 30 minutes after I posted that I thought "Why the hell IS my office in the formal living room??". We have a spare room upstairs, which we had planned to renovate into a guest room, however it dawned on me that we have one guest....ONCE a year. I find it pretty stupid to give an entire room up for once a year.

So, screw the guest. I took the room.

Here's the room before.

The original idea was to have these really rich walls - and all white bedding and furniture, which I thought was going to be a really nice contrast. However once I got all my office and craft stuff in....The dark purple against my stuff turned the room into a room of doom. Almost impossible to be creative. All I wanted to do was take a nap under the desk.

Here's the room now. Here are the details (if you care about that stuff)

The desk and filing cabinet is actually a few years - but it's the Mission Style line from Office Depot (I think)
The wall color is Behr, primer & paint in one, "Mellow Yellow". Took about 5 to 6 coats to cover that deep purple - but I like it a lot more than I thought I would.
All the pictures in the frames are pictures I took in my Mom's backyard - zoomed in, cropped and printed out to 8x10 - crappy frames I was allowed to steal from work.
The drapes on the window, if you can see it in the picture, still needs to be hemmed - but it's yellow & white striped Alvine Smal from Ikea.

That's about it for what you can see. The other side of the room would only be interesting for people who are crafters....

More from this week: My first trip EVER to IKEA. How to sod your backyard without spending a dime - and how to break your ankle while doing it.

Last One Standing

2009-06-05T19:50:00.002-04:00

A few weeks ago I had posted that I was coming down with a horrible case of bronchitis....which ended up being true. What I didn't tell you was that I ended up getting to the peak of the sickness during the weekend, and dragged my ass to the local Urgent Care. The medical professional there told me I just "had a cold" and sent me on my way.

Three days later I went to my regular doctor and was given all sorts of drugs and an earful of the lovely medical professionals that took an oath to do no harm.

I've been off the antibiotic for a week now. And yesterday it came back - with a vengeance.

Now, because I'm nothing if not honest (and my mother will never let me live it down) I will be truthful and tell you that I didn't exactly finish the whole ten days of the antibiotic. However, in my defense (which there is little of) they were really big ass horse pills, and I really was feeling better....and seriously....shouldn't seven days of a big ass horse pill be enough!?!

Anyway, so I called my doctor this morning and basically begged and pleaded to please not make me drive all the way back in. It's exactly what it was before, and clearly we didn't kill it off the first time. I did, however, conveniently leave out the part of not taking all the prescription.

She took pity on me and decided to "bump it up a notch" and "let's make sure we kill it all this time" and prescribed me something new.

I'm curled into bed with my big jug of water, and just read the back panel of this new drug that she gave me.....

....used for treating infections caused by certain bacteria....also used to prevent or slow anthrax after exposure.....

Now THAT is what I'm talking about!!!! An antibiotic that is also used for freakin' anthrax! I'll be sleeping soundly tonight with the knowledge that I'm not only treating my resistant bronchitis, but if there is a biological attack on my small town...I may be the only survivor.

Family Gas

2009-06-03T19:37:00.004-04:00

Today is my brother in law's birthday. I have absolutely no idea how old he is - and truthfully, even if I did, I don't think he would care if I told you. He's bizarre, often makes no sense, makes off the wall jokes that no one understands, and thinks he's far funnier than he really is. And I love him dearly. In honor of his birthday - our beginning together.

15 years ago, in a small town, a young girl was turning 21. With no desire to hit the big city and "go crazy", we made plans to stay local and hit the pool bar. My sister, who was extremely pregnant at the time, was the prefect designated driver, so my brand new brother in law, older sister, best friend (now my husband) and myself hit the local hot spot.

Fun ensued. We had music, the pool tables and each other. Now, as most people know, when you are the ONLY sober person in the group - the fun grows very thin quickly. Needless to say, when you are THAT pregnant and THAT sober....she didn't stay long. It wasn't that big of a deal, since my folks house wasn't too far away - and we were convinced that the three of us could walk back home....And I was SURE that my parents wouldn't mind if the of us crashed in my bedroom.

Everything is SO clear when you're half lit.

She left. We stayed. Everything at this point, I will admit, is a little foggy.

I know we walked home. I know at some point, my brother in law tried to start a fight with some thug in town. I think Michael and I talked him down and ran down the street. When we got back to my house - I'm sure we were VERY quiet walking up three flights of stairs to my room. This is where we tried to figure out what the appropriate sleeping arrangements.

I had a big king size bed.

I couldn't sleep with Michael. He and I weren't even dating at the time. If memory serves I actually had a boyfriend at the time ( come to think of it....why wasn't he there?) So, we decided that my brother-in-law and I would share the bed, and Michael would take the floor.

We all laid around for a while, laughing and giggling about the evening events, slowly wearing down - the booze quickly taking it's effect.

And then I farted on my brand new brother in law.

Happy Birthday Jeff, next time I'll pee on you.

No One To Blame But Him

2009-05-29T22:31:00.003-04:00

I could have married a doctor, or a lawyer. A man who devoted his life to saving the planet. A spokesperson for global warming perhaps. An interest in adopting 27 children. A philanthropist in his own way.

However, I did not. A good man, I did marry. A great man, in fact. We do not have 27 adopted children - and have yet to solve the crisis in the rain forest. He is not a lawyer or a doctor. However, he cares for a great many things. But chances are he'll never be written about in a magazine, or discussed in groups long after he's gone.

However, I sit here tonight and curse the very day he was born.

Because God love him, what he is, is a Sci-Fi Guy.....And I have spent a life time making fun of all the shows he's watched. And apparently God has a hell of a sense of humor.

For tonight, I am sitting at the kitchen table, watching Stargate Atlantis on some very strange free streaming Chinese web site.....and I don't think I'm going to bed anytime soon...because I can't stop!

It's killing him not to tell me what happens next - but I think he's enjoying more that my eyeballs are a mere three inches away from the laptop. He's already lining up what to "suggest" next after I'm done with this. I'll try my hardest to resist, but I'm afraid as long as it's summer, as there's no new programing out there....I'm an easy target.

Battlestar Galactica and Babylon 5 are on his list.....

The Most Bizarre Fight Ever

2009-05-27T15:05:00.002-04:00

Maybe fight is a strong word to use. It was a misunderstanding.

I understand why I did it. She didn't. So, we discussed it.

About a year or so ago, we're flipping through the channels and came across one of those Jon & Kate marathons. One of those 14 hour long marathons, that suck you in for no other reason than you don't have the energy to click the remote button again.

So, you watch. And the kids are cute. And who doesn't like cute kids.

But then SHE started to watch - and was CAPTIVATED. Within hours she knew all the kids names, and had named her baby doll Mady, and wanted to go to Crayola World...and Disney....and have matching outfits with me....and have seven siblings.

It was rather cute, if I say so myself. And for the most part I really didn't see anything wrong with it. Yes, I thought Kate was a bit over the top, but who wouldn't be with eight children. So, I set the DVR to record new episodes and looked forward to a show that I could enjoy WITH my daughter, instead of being forced to watch something animated.

That was a year ago. I deleted the season pass about 3 weeks ago.

I won't get into here the why's - because it's the same reason everyone in the world has right now. It's just not something I choose to support. Those two, and those kids, need a break. And if by turning off my tivo helps those kids, even in my small way, I'll do it.

But WOW did she not understand. She heard on the radio to school yesterday "Jon and Kate Season Premiere...." and almost peed herself. I decided to talk to her about later - hoping she would forget.

She didn't.

I tried every different way to explain to her why we couldn't watch it anymore...She wasn't having it.

I finally had to say "because Mommy says so!!"

I knew it was going to happen sooner or later....I just didn't I was going to finally pull that one out of the bag for a stupid reality show.

Quarantine

2009-05-18T20:38:00.003-04:00

I haven't really had anything interesting to write lately because I've been too busy hacking a lung up through my throat. It's fun. You should try it. Really. I've been doing it for about six days now. After a while it starts to give you a nice red, sandpaper glow all over - and a thick hoarseness to your voice that men can't resist.

It all started with what I just assumed were allergies. You would think at my age I would KNOW if I have allergies or not, but damned if every spring I have to actually THINK about it. "Is this a cold, or do I have allergies?" So, I spend the better part of a week taking allergy medication, only to have the allergy medication not do anything at all - all the while I'm telling people "oh no, don't worry, this is allergies" when they start to back away from me. So, while I'm taking a shit load of allergy medication for no reason what so ever, and also infecting every living soul I come into contact with, I'm still genuinely confused as to WHY the allergy medication isn't working.

Because I'm a complete a total freakin' moron.

So, I nurse a general every day cold with allergy meds, give said cold to every one I know, all the while run myself into the ground because I keep thinking "there's no reason why you can't paint the guest room and clean out the garage....it's just allergies...suck it up you pussy". So, I don't take care of the cold...and inevitably get bronchitis.

So, I finally went to the doctor the other day when my ass brain caught up that I was actually sick, and the doctor wouldn't give me drugs "because it's just viral" and sent me on my way. But with the parting words of "If it's the flu, it's too late to test for it...."

What the hell does THAT mean? Like it's too late....For ME?

By the way....Being this sick with the swine flu running around the country is awesome....Makes people really want to hang out with you.

It All Rolls Around

2009-05-14T20:14:00.002-04:00

There was a time, in my youth, that the time I had to get up in the morning for work was not necessarily as important as how much fun I was having at that particular time.

If a hot guy from across the bar was making googly eyes at me....or a really great song was on the dance floor....or a good conversation was being had.....a friend was in from out of town....

Hell....I think I called in drunk once because I stayed up too late to watch Miss Universe.

My point is...I'm old now.

I've been discussing with my best friend for the last TWO WEEKS how I was going to manage all the two hour season finales that were coming my way. Specifically the LOST season finale....Because 5 years ago this would have been a non-issue.

I actually turned the tv OFF last night at 10:00....went to bed, and watched the other hour this morning while getting ready for work.

Hello. My Name Is Lame.

My Crack Closet

2009-05-11T16:17:00.007-04:00

Not too long ago my husband and I had a home that didn't require the purging of winter items. I didn't have to pull half of my wardrobe out, cram them into those crappy ass plastic bags, suck all the air out, and haul them to the basement. Young and stupid - three luxury levels of closets, upgraded appliances, and what I seem to recall as a "luxury bath".

Then we had a child. And now we're young, stupid and broke - in a house where my husband and I share a bathroom that we both can't fit in at the same time.

Why the move? We didn't have a yard. We didn't have a space for a swing set. We didn't have neighbors. And while although we are cramped and I'm bitchy about my kitchen, bathroom, closets, creaky floors and endless weeds (OH THE WEEDS!!!)..... we couldn't be happier in our small, over priced creaky floor small ass bathroom house.

However, with the move into the house I lost my office. We've moved my desk from room to room about a million times, and we've finally settled on changing the "formal living room" into my office. I can keep my office clean for when people come over, and I've managed to minimize my "stuff" into one armoire. And really - does ANYONE require a "formal living room".

I know no one that's formal. And if I did ... They aren't invited to my house.

I organized my armoire today.

The fruits of my labor.

See all that shit. That was an entire office worth of crafting supplies that has been organized into one armoire. Granted, a huge armoire. Take a good look
at ALL that stuff. I love my stuff - My paper, brads, tape, paint, stickers and stamps. And do you want to know what I MAKE with all that stuff.

This tacky ass butt ugly box for my daughter. She says she wants a box with flowers on it for her rubber bands. I say "Honey, I have four years worth of scrap booking of your life that I have yet to do. Don't you want a scrapbook to look at when YOU have children?" She says no. She NEEDS a box for her rubber bands. I say, "Ok". Because I'm a big marshmallow.

Dogs Barking, Can't Fly Without Umbrella

2009-05-07T19:35:00.006-04:00

I think that in general, most groups of people - be them friends, family or whatever your "group" of people may be - have certain interesting things that you say to each other that only you understand. Little phrases or catch words that mean something to you - but would probably not mean anything to an outsider. Some would consider it an inside joke, or a "you had to be there" kind of thing.

Perfect example: I could say to any number of people in my family
"And then his head blew up"........ and their response would be.........
"And that would be REALLY funny"...........

I honestly have NO idea why we do this. No. Seriously. I have no memory of WHY we started doing this. Or even if I was around when this happened. But I know we do it. And I know it's funny as hell.

My sister and I probably have more of these little things than other members of the family. I could break out into a rendition of "Oh it's fun to be obnoxious..." a catchy little tune that she and I made up when I was about 13 years old - and she would happily sing along.

Anyway!! The point of all of this was that along the way she and I also started having a passion for sign that made no sense. It started with a sign at Disney World that CLEARLY said "No Throwing Confetti". For real. It was a sign with no words, but a picture of person throwing confetti in the air, and a big X through it.

We were unaware that Disney had such a confetti throwing problem.

You are also strongly discouraged from dancing on roller coasters.

She recently returned from a fabulous island tour, which I won't go into much detail about, because I'm jealous as hell. But she found this gem for me.

I have NO idea what this means.

The only thing that we could come up with was that on this particular island it's better to stay in a group because the local midget colony may attack you if you separate. It's a whole safety in numbers thing. It appears from the sign that it's also best to keep the transparent people in the front of the pack. I'm not entirely sure why.

Only If It's Laminated

2009-04-30T15:21:00.003-04:00

My daughter's school has been great about this Swine Flu thing. They've been sending reports home almost every day with the precautions that they've taken and/or will take. They've sent home sheets on what to look for, what to do and who to call.

If I wasn't happy with her school before, I am now.

One of the biggest things they've done is institute some new hand washing rules, and have had some good discussions with the kids on the why's and when's of hand washing.

And I mean 'you shall wash your hands or big meanies will come and take all your barbies and play-doh and throw them in the trash' kind of talks.

It seems to be working.

My daughter is BESIDE HERSELF that I don't have laminated signs in every bathroom in my house with proper hand washing techniques. Throw yourself on the ground tantrum kind of upset.

"How will I know to wash my hands if there IS NOT A SIGN!?!?!?"

A Spring Says What?

2009-04-26T19:00:00.002-04:00

Five days ago it was 45 degrees.

Today it's 93.

Apparently my air conditioning is a bit....pissed.

As I type this my husband is downstairs with a hair dryer trying to thaw out the system, and my daughter and I are laying on my bed with all the windows open, every fan on, and bitching.

We've both taken cool showers and put on very light pj's. The only thing that's making our evening better is that the Blue's Clue's video is on.

Can you hear my joy?

Don't Let The Grandparents Fool You

2009-04-24T10:05:00.005-04:00

As promised, the conclusion to what happens when you blame the Easter Bunny for being a bad mom.

So, I managed to get out of the whole Easter thing scott free. We didn't paint eggs or hide them, or spend hours finding them. I wasn't left with 20 neon pink and yellow eggs to make 4 pounds of egg salad with. Little tin foil wrappers haven't been left all over my house for the last week. But truthfully, I felt pretty guilty. I would have enjoyed taking pictures of her finding the eggs - and having a stash of Easter chocolate in the house benefits me as well.

So, Sunday night after the whole debacle was over the phone rang. My folks had called to give me a general hard time for being a jack ass and to let me know how truly horrible it is to blame the Easter Bunny for my mistakes - when a thought came to him.

"I know how you can make it up to her!" he said
"I don't need to make it up to her...She's over it."
"No, no...I know how you can make it up to her. I'm sure you've scarred her....for life. And since it's Easter...We think you should get her a Bunny. A lop ear rabbit...I know a guy who breeds them!"

I made very clear to him that there was no way in bloody hell I was going to buy this kid a bunny - because my husband and I have a no pet policy in this house - not to mention I have very severe allergies.

"No, no. Bunnies have a totally different dander than cats. You'll be fine."
"Look Mensa Bunny Boy....I don't care if this bunny shoots Pez out his ass. Do. Not. Buy. this kid a bunny"

The conversation went on far longer than it should have - and because clearly I'm easily swayed from an original position - I started having an actual conversation about having a bunny in the house!

I eventually told him I had to hang up on him.

"Why do you have to hang up on me?" he asked
"Because I'm honestly listening to you....So, I have to hang up on you now. Clearly I can't have a thought of my own and you are making my mind up for me. So, I'm hanging up now. Goodbye"

So I hung up. And then did the SECOND worst thing I could do.
(the first thing would have been TELLING the child about the bunny)

The second is to do a google image search of Lop Ear Bunny.......

Damn.

Moral of the story. Grandparents suck. Truly. Think what you will about the all the love they have for their grandchildren - but the truth of it is - they just want to stick it to their own kids. It's payback for all the shit we pulled. And I'm quite sure that they are laughing their asses off right now - knowing full well - that sometime soon - my house is going to be filled with rabbit turds.

The Little Things

2009-04-20T15:11:00.003-04:00

The rain will not stop. We've been discussing going to Home Depot for lumber because I'm sure two of each animal will be showing up at any time now.... Rain makes me crabby. So, here are some things that have made me not crabby lately.

We have a horrible drainage problem in our backyard...so my husband spent about six hours on Saturday pulling out old rotting lumber that had been drilled about six feet into the ground by Andre the Giant. I jumped in to help....Which did not work at all. He did not laugh at me at all. Which was nice. So, I spent the six hours making sure our daughter didn't impale herself on six foot long screws. Seriously...what asshole made this patio.

I'm totally hooked on McDonald's coffee. How cheap can I be? Now that they have that whole McCafe thing going on.....Instead of spending five bucks on a cup of coffee - I can get a large cup of coffee for like a buck and a quarter and don't have to use stupid words when I order. It's just LARGE and COFFEE. I'm nothing if not easy.

I've created a whole fantasy world in my head where I'm going to make money on Etsy. I realize that I'm like five years behind the ball on this. But if/when I get some stuff up there - I expect all of you to buy my ugly crap. No, I insist you buy my ugly crap. If not, I'll spread vicious rumors about all of you.

My secret love for Mommy Wants Vodka is out in the open. I actually told her that if I was a lesbian I would ask her to be my girlfriend. That's how lame I am. But so far she hasn't, like, banned me from her website or rejected my emails.

My husband and I got a "date day" yesterday. We dropped off the kid and got like four hours to ourselves. I imagine when other parents get time off they do adult things. They stimulate their brains with fascinating conversation. They enjoy adult beverages and discuss politics, religion...their hopes and dreams. We spent $40 dollars at the movie theatre. We saw "Monsters vs. Aliens".... a movie we totally could have taken her to see.

Next to the internet, light beer, and bacon....Hulu has got the be one of the greatest inventions. Ever.

What's making you happy?

I Didn't Do It

2009-04-17T10:56:00.003-04:00

I'm quite certain that if the Easter Bunny was real....He would be sitting in his office right now, discussing with his staff how much of a total asshole I am - and how best to take me out.

After church on Sunday, we went to lunch with my folks - hugs and kisses goodbye and then got in the car to drive home. As I pulled out of the parking lot I said to her "So, what do you want to do today sweetie?"

She looked at me like I was a complete idiot...."Um...eggs Mama"

Oh. Shit.

Right. It's Easter. And the Easter Bunny comes on Easter. And hides eggs. And gives baskets full of crap.

So, in a moment of total brilliance, I blamed the LACK of hidden eggs and baskets and goodies ON the Easter Bunny. I'm totally not kidding you. I simply explained that the Easter Bunny probably thought that she was in Texas with me for the funeral and assumed she wouldn't be home for Easter, so skipped our house this year. "But I'll bet you'll get TWO Easter baskets next year!" I said.

And you know what? It worked. Like a charm. She wasn't mad - or even upset at all.

"Really?!?! Two baskets? Cool!"

And that was it. Easiest. Child. Ever. That, or she's brilliant and has learned at an early age how to double her haul.

Is it wrong to blame a childhood idol for my mistakes? Probably. However, the guilt I have over not having this kid in Sunday School - I've never really talked about the Easter Bunny all that much. I want to make sure I have some church stuff in her, before I let Easter become the "chocolate bunny" holiday. Furthermore....I've been a bit flighty this last week. Not to mention, I really think my husband should at least take a little bit of the blame on this one.

All excuses, I'll admit. And I totally draw the line at blaming Santa. That's just cruel. Not to mention, fiscally stupid. There's no WAY I could double up the next year.

P.S. This is just part one of the story. Next week you'll get "Why Grandparents Suck - Blaming the Easter Bunny Part 2" This is what happens when your parents find out you screwed over their grandchild for Easter.

Made For Each Other

2009-04-15T09:02:00.004-04:00

Driving home after buying mayonnaise.

Me: "Hey, this Saturday is our Anniversary isn't it?"
Him: "Oh, yea? Yea - I guess it is."
Me: "How long have we been married?"
Him: "Nine years?"
Me: "Um...no. Dork. Six Years."
Him: "Are you sure?"
Me: "Yes, I'm sure. You take her age, and add two."

5 minutes later

Him: "I don't think that's right"
Me: "Yea, I was just thinking that. But I know nine years isn't right either"
Him: "Cause if you take her age and add two, we've been married for six and a half...and that's a stupid time to celebrate an anniversary"
Me: "Yea. That's like celebrating a month of going out in high school. Who celebrates six and a half years?
Him: "I think its seven years"
Me: "Ok. That sounds good. Let's go with seven"

The Art of the Warehouse

2009-04-11T15:07:00.003-04:00

I am often in awe of the genius of marketing. How someone can package and sell something so effectively, that even though we KNOW we don't need or even want one, we'll buy it anyway, because we honestly think it'll make our lives better.

This has to be the number one motto of the warehouse store. I don't know what it is in your area, but here, it's Costco. And I've yet to meet anyone who can "run in real quick for milk".

Today was that day for us. We haven't been in forever, because quite frankly we can't get back out again with our shirts on. But we needed to stockpile on a few things - and we were heading in that direction anyway.

We actually gave ourselves a pep talk before we left the house. Stay clear of the middle area....that's where they hit you with movies, books and toys. Watch out for the lady on every turn giving away free food. Sharp left at the pastry department. And under no circumstances are we to walk into the electronic section.

But even with the pep talk and the directions - somehow when I come face to face with a 96 pound tub of mayonnaise...I have to have it. I don't need, nor do I WANT that much mayo....but at only $4.97 for 96 pounds it's a steal...and I'll feel as though I'm extremely special for owning this mayonnaise. All my friends will be jealous. They'll come from miles and miles just to see my mayo.

So, instead of just getting diet coke....we had to rearrange the entire garage to make room for our haul.

Wanna come over and see my mayo?

The Rules

2009-04-08T13:52:00.003-04:00

Few years ago when I started this little thing, I gave myself a few rules.

Rule #1. I don't post pictures of my kid. That's not a dig at people that do...It's just I have an extremely over active imagination and I can't control who reads here...and I'm quite certain that there is a crazy stalker out there that is looking for a kid that looks exactly like mine and will be able to tell my exact GPS coordinates from one picture.

Rule #2. I don't talk crap about my family. Well, not like serious crap.

Good rules I think. One gives me piece of mind - and the other keeps my ass out of trouble.

About 16 of us had all flown into San Antonio for my Grandmothers funeral (it was a beautiful service by the way) and we were all sitting around the pool at the hotel, drinking and visiting - and someone (and quite honestly I couldn't even tell you who it was at this point) said something kind of stupid and I said something to the effect of..."Damn it...I always said I wouldn't blog about you people!!!"

Well, my older sister was sitting right next to me.

Apparently, she's the exception to my rule...and pointed it out to me.

So, I've gone back and read a bit over the last year or so.

And she's right. I do talk about her a lot.

I'm SURE it's because she's tougher skinned than all of the rest.

And NOT because she just does weirder stuff than all the rest.

As a side note, my mother explained to me this weekend that I was, in fact, allowed to talk about serious crap on here. As long as it was NICE crap about her, and BAD crap about me.

I don't think I'll be asking them to guest post at any time in the future....You are sure to get stories of the SWAT team knocking on the door....or the time I accidentally took all the water out of the pool.

In Case You Heard

2009-04-02T21:51:00.004-04:00

the very loud pop yesterday coming from the general D.C. Metro area yesterday...

Don't concern yourself.

It was just my brain. Exploding all over the pharmacy counter.

You see, as ya'll already know, my doctors have me medicated on this and that for these migraines. And I'm blessed in at least the fact that my insurance, while although won't pay but $10 dollars towards a dental cleaning, will pay for a good portion of my medications.

So, you can imagine my surprise when trying to pick up my monthly prescription....Only about 12 hours before I need to get on a plane to travel back home to San Antonio to meet family for my Grandmothers funeral...that should the pharmacist tell me that I owe him $400.

Pop.

I would love to tell you that I kept my cool under pressure...that I calmly and rationally explained to the newbie that this simply was not the case, and if he could please go back and recheck the files.

But instead I cried like 4 year old little girl that was denied ice cream at her own birthday party.

Turns out that my insurance WILL cover my migraine medication....It was simply a case of THIS pharmacist trying to give me medications that BELONGED TO SOMEONE ELSE.

Reading Material

2009-03-27T13:58:00.003-04:00

I'm going to make this short and sweet.

I'm stuck in traffic yesterday on the way home from picking up the kid from school. I'm thinking about the stuff I have to get done before the funeral, what I need to pack, do I have to clean the house before I go, blah blah blah....when I notice the license plate of the car in front of me.

i c gay ppl

I shit you not.

I immediately call my sister (because that's what I do when I see weird shit)

I read the letters to her, and ask her if she's understanding it the same way I am.

Yep, she is. Apparently the person in front of me...well..... see's gay people.

Where exactly? Everywhere?? Or just in their car?? Are they ANTI gay or PRO gay? Has the area I live in had a sudden influx of homosexual residents? Or is it like the movie...and this person only see's DEAD gay people? Or is this person like the Gay Whisperer? I have to tell you how THOROUGHLY confused I am by this persons license plate.

And maybe that's the point.

But it seems to me if you want to make a point....It might better serve you if people understand your point.

The Scouts of Spring

2009-03-23T18:41:00.003-04:00

I had a whole post written, and it's been saved in my drafts for about a week. I needed some time to go back and edit, erase and re-arrange - and for one reason or another I just never got around to it. It was a whole post about symbolism, and hating the groundhog ... if I can write my name on my windshield, I don't care what the calendar says.

However, I've spent the last three days sitting bedside with my Grandmother, who will probably pass away in the next couple of days, and writing anything here didn't really feel appropriate. However, NOT writing anything didn't feel right either.

Every afternoon I leave my folks at my Grandmom's, I have some time to think about the "normal" life that I still need to get done that day...and the post that's been sitting here for weeks keeps coming back to me. And the picture that I took that got the whole thing started.

I remember thinking when I took this picture that life finds a way. If it's meant to bloom, if it's time, it will no matter what the conditions.

Always Starts With Being Drunk

2009-03-11T18:07:00.006-04:00

Somewhere between my former life and my current life, I dated a few guys. None of them overly serious - most of them in the category of rebound. Spending some time in my life trying to figure out what I wanted, where I wanted to go...and who I was. Most of those short lived romances were doomed from the beginning, and the truth was I probably new it from the get go. But that's an entirely different post.

So, one of those guys was a total loser. And by loser, I desperately need you to hold your index finger and thumb in the shape of an L and slam in into your forehead about 20 times to accentuate my point. In addition to being a loser, he was also a drunk. Capital D, Capital Beer, Capital Bar, Capital Vomit - Drunk. And not the - tells inappropriate stories grabs your ass but apologizes - kind of drunk, but the - takes a leak in your kitchen sink at 10:30 in the morning - kind of drunk. No love lost on that one.

So, I got a friend request from him the other day. And because I can't walk away from a train wreck...I accepted it.

In my weekly incomprehensible conversation with my sister - I told her about my newly rekindled friendship.

It was discussed that there is a possibility that he is still, in fact, drunk - and maybe does not remember that he urinated in my kitchen sink. Or maybe he realized that he had a problem and joined AA, and he's on whatever step is making amends and is working towards his pin.

Somehow we jumped from that, to the strange friend requests that one occasionally gets from Facebook. There is not one person I've talked to that has not gotten at least one request from someone that they believe hated them in high school, or at the very least fooled around with their boyfriend.

At which I replied, that in high school, if you had dated someone for more than 3 weeks you were doing well....And do you remember back then you would have like a "one month anniversary"... and Holy Shit, I wish I could go back and smack the crap out of myself.

But then we decided that there should be a Monogamous Anonymous . And you should totally get a pin for it, just like AA. And I would totally introduce myself with that information..."Hi, I'm Kerrie...I've been monogamous for 2,556 days"...

And this by no means is making fun of anyone that is actually IN AA, this is making fun of jerk wad boyfriends who pee in sinks.

Starship Stepladder

2009-03-03T09:09:00.002-05:00

Yesterday was a snow day - and from the looks of the weather channel - so was most of my side of the U.S. Interestingly enough, the schools were closed the night before...even before it started to snow. Quite a bit of faith in our weather folks if you ask me. However, the predictions were correct (good thing too....the School Board would have been crucified) and we woke up to a winter wonderland.

Now, since I've not sent in my nomination for Mother of the Year yet - I've managed to get through this entire winter without any snow gear. I mean, I have regular every day mittens and scarves and stuff to keep her warm - but no ski pants and the like to keep her DRY. It really just does not snow all that much here. Not to mention that once I get her out there - she wants to come back in. Once she really shows an interest in the snow - I will absolutely mortgage the house to buy her all that crap.

Anyway, so I needed a project for the day to keep us entertained. The best kind of project would be where I can actually get something DONE and she can help without burning down the house. So, I decided that painting the spare room was the perfect plan. Give her enough drop clothes and last year's outfit - and she probably wouldn't make too much of a mess.

It actually worked out pretty well. It held her attention for about an hour or so, until she realized that painting the spare room is actually quite boring work and the ultimate goal really does not improve her life at all...so really....why do it all?

Honestly, I don't blame her.

So, my step ladder quickly became an airplane. She and her stuffed animals became passengers on her magical plane to far away destinations.

She had electronic maps that would beep at her. She would click on the map and they would zoom off into space. (I tried to explain that airplanes don't go into space....I got an eye roll. Right, sorry...carry on)

Soon - something horrible happened to our 'bleblop' (a technical term for a working part on a plane) and we crash landed on the Planet of Gorillas. Apparently the gorillas have not eaten in a LONG time, so we were going to be their lunch. We had to fix our bleblop, and fast.

"Oh no, what are we going to do?" I asked
"We have to call someone!" She said
"From space? You must have amazing cell service..." I mumbled...
"Mama...Do you know who we have to call!?!?"
"The Ghostbusters?!"
"What?? Who? No! Handy Manny! He can fix anything!!"

Shortly after Handy Manny got there and fixed our airplane, she left her stuffed animals behind and she took off.

I picked up a few things during our little planet hopping adventure.

My daughter has no problem leaving behind her beloved stuffed animals as gorilla food to save her own ass....Clearly my husband does not fix enough stuff in this house because he lost out to cartoon character as the guy who "can fix anything"....and for the rest of my life anytime ANYONE says "who are you gonnna call" ... visions of an enourmous Stay Puft Marshmallow Man is going to pop into my head.

I Know I Am, But What Are You

2009-02-20T19:50:00.002-05:00

You know that scene in Jurassic Park, when the lady Doctor sticks her hands in the Dino poop to figure out why the Dinosaur is sick...and Ian Malcolm says "She's...ah...tenacious".?

How about obsessive.

Yea...well...that's me. Except without the dino poop. But only because I don't have any. I'm sure if I have a huge pile of dino crap in my back yard, and sick triceratops , I would be elbow high in dino droppings to figure out what was wrong with him.

You see, I get things stuck in my head. And like a bad song, I can't get rid of them until I DO something about it. It's why furniture gets moved as often as it does, or a room gets painted so suddenly... it's because I can't just sit on it for a while. Once it's in my head - I have to do something about immediately. I am "instant gratification" girl. I imagine this can be seen as a bad trait, however, I am also the girl that gets shit done. If there's a project to be done, no sense in sitting around and talking about it - let's tackle it. Regardless if I actually no HOW to do it or not.

It's also provides quite a bit of blog fodder.

However, some projects aren't the "home improvement" type. Some of them are the "I should do xyz..." type.

Like the other day when discussing a recent episode of Lost with my husband I said "I really should go back and watch all 5 seasons of Lost over again."

That's where I've been for the last two weeks. Every waking moment that hasn't been spent working, parenting, or being poked by a doctor has been spent in front of this computer (ironically named Charlie by the way) logged onto Hulu.com, watching all five seasons of Lost over again.

I am a Lost God.

Ask me ANYTHING...I am warped. I am twisted around this show. I have twisted others with me. I have a notepad and a pen in my purse for when brilliant ideas occur to me. I have blurted those brilliant ideas at unsuspecting strangers...all I've gotten in return are strange looks and business cards for more doctors. I have read 'hot theories' online and ridiculed others for their lack of creativity.

I only have two people in my life who watch this show...and one of them is starting to avoid my phone calls and I'm pretty sure I'm starting to cause martial discord in the other.

Internet Junkie, M.D.

2009-02-09T15:48:00.005-05:00

It wasn't too long ago that on a day to day basis I learned something new from the internet that could ultimately hurt me and the baby that I was I was trying to grow. Just the possibility that by breathing in the BO of the person next to me was going to change the molecular make up of my child and make her a Cyborg....(wait...A Cyborg or The Cyborg?) It's a wonder that I even got in the car and drove to the hospital to have her ... but living one more day with a 10 pound weight on my bladder, and not being able to tell if my shoes matched was not an option.

Things haven't changed much in the last 4 1/2 years. I imagine it's the same for most of you. Outside of the average sniffle, ache or pain - if anything "odd" happens to us, we generally jump on the internet to self diagnose ourselves. There are millions of websites you can go to, and hundreds of deeply disturbed people out there, more than willing to lend a diagnosing hand.

As I'm sure ya'll are tired of reading - I am knee deep in the self diagnosing stages of what ever is currently happening inside this cranium of mine. Every day I find a new article, new blog or some BRAND NEW INFORMATION that could lead to the CURE OF MIGRAINES. I read every word....I scour every article, hoping to find something that I could use.

I got a glimmer of hope the other day. An article that sounded SERIOUSLY promising. This thing was well written...sounded as though it was written by bright, intelligent people. Maybe not people with medical degrees - because it wasn't dripping with words I couldn't pronounce...but with a medical undertone. The idea behind the article was some simple "re-wiring" of the brain. The in's and out's of migraines, how they work, and some "alternative"treatments that could potentially re-wire the brain and end migraines forever.

With each word, I'm inching closer and closer to my computer screen. Only to get to the end of the end of the article and find that to rewire my brain I need to get my hands on some LSD and mushrooms.

Apparently that's the only "alternative" way to re-wire my brain.

The only mushrooms I know of are the ones growing in my backyard....

It Means Special

2009-02-06T20:42:00.002-05:00

Today my daughter asked me what Eunuch meant. My first reaction was "Um, why?"...because if they are discussing castration in Junior Kindergarten then clearly education is WAY more advanced than it was in my day.

Turns out they were reading The Backyardigans.

See the connection?

Neither did I.

Turns out one of the characters is named Unique.

Not an interesting post I'll grant you - but I really wanted to push down the Vagina Cooking one. I noticed that I'm getting traffic directly from Facebook....and it's a little scary to think that folks that thought I was crazy in high school are sitting there thinking..."Well, yep - She's still bat shit crazy!"

But I'm working on a post where I'm a total moron - and I'm in a room with a bunch of people that don't talk like me, but I talk like them, and one of them is Dr. Phil. And in all honesty, is there really anyone cooler than Dr. Phil?

In other news, I mentioned to my sister I was having a hard time coming up with material lately. Once you write about your private parts...it's really all down hill. So, if you've got any burning questions for me - go for it...it may light my creative fires, so to speak.

Because I'm Really More Of A Baker

2009-01-31T19:57:00.005-05:00

As I'm sure most of us are - I am forever tickled with the Google searches that bring people to my little neck of the woods. The pervs and freaks out there looking for pictures of Bobby Browns penis (I don't have any) and Dancing Poop (mine does not) are endless. We bloggers put down, what we think are rather innocuous statements, only to find through spider searches and other magical internet tools, that to others our statement held an altogether different meaning. Or rather what they HOPED was a different meaning.

In my case it was trying to describe what it feels like to put numbing cream in your pants.

So, let me state for the record. I can not cook with my vagina. I can not teach you how to do this. I can not direct you to who can, or a book that can teach you. I find it deeply disturbing that you would search for this in the first place.

However, the more I type...the more I think that being able to cook with my vagina would be freakin' awesome.

Think how much easier camping and road trips would be!

"Mama, can I have a pop tart?" YOU BET!

"Kerrie, are you pregnant again?" "No. No no. Just got another 4 hours on the turkey!"

When/if I'm finally done with the laser hair removal..I could also consider it a kitchen remodel?

There are so many ideas rolling around in my head right now I could write a book about vagina cooking...but I'm quite certain that I would have to credit half of those ideas to the manufacturers of the medications I'm on right now.

It's Called A Blue Job

2009-01-27T16:09:00.004-05:00

Although I've always considered myself a fairly independent woman, there seem to be a certain number of things that took on a certain "sex" when I married. We've come to call them "blue jobs and pink jobs". The things that lay solely at the others feet. The above is a perfect example of a blue job. I could care less about shoveling the driveway. He commented before he walked outside that this would be the first time he ever shoveled at this house. Which I thought was pretty odd since it did in fact snow last year, and we did, in fact, live here last year.

Turns out that he was out of town for the week it snowed and I just drove over it for an entire week until it froze and then I parked on the street until he got home.

Spring planting, however, would be a perfect example of a pink job. If you were to ask him his feelings on flowers - his response would be that the only reason he doesn't mow over them is out of fear I'll hide his iTouch.

Looks Like You Can Sell Anything

2009-01-20T12:02:00.004-05:00

It's an usual feeling - being afraid to go to sleep. I suppose I remember times as a child, after watching something I shouldn't have watched - and then laying in bed for hours, scared of the monsters under the bed or in the closet.

As an adult, I've certainly had my fair share of sleepless nights. Scared of what was to come before I had my daughter - wondering if I was gong to be able to hack it. There have been some news stories over the years that have kept me awake for days as well. But over the course of the last 32 days I have been afraid to go to sleep because I knew that in a couple of hours I would wake up with a ice pick shoved in my brain.

We're no closer to finding the cause today - then we were 30 days ago. I have my suspicions (without a medical degree), and my doctor has his ideas, backed by his actual degree. We really aren't seeing eye to eye however.

Yesterday I think we had a bit of a break through though - because for the better part of the afternoon I WEPT UNCONTROLLABLY in his office.

He thought it would be a good idea to lower my dosage of the meds I'm on. Apparently they can make you a little "off".

I'm also on a brand new blood pressure medication. Apparently an interesting side effect of lowering ones blood pressure is a decrease in migraines. I'm down with that - even if I don't have high blood pressure.

I know I should be happy that my MRI came back clean - but a small part of me is almost depressed that it wasn't SOMETHING. Something they could see. Something they could fix, or cut out. Something to create a light at the end of the tunnel. (can we say dramatic?!)

Also: In completely unrelated news, my sister sent me an article from USA Today. Looks like my laser people really are trying to kill me. Apparently the FDA has warned numerous times that numbing cream and saran wrap are not good bed fellows. As in, you shouldn't do it. As in, it's going to soak into your blood stream and, I don't know, kill you. And as my sister pointed out - if you want to get something into your blood stream quickly, there's no better place than your cooter. And then we ended up discussing how else to get numbing cream into your blood stream - and we decided that either injecting it directly, or maybe snorting it would be the best way....and that turned into a conversation on how many people sell underwear on Ebay. Then she told me about this girl that is selling her virginity on Ebay, and I'm all "whore", and she's like, "yea, no shit!", so we talked about whores for a while.

Because sometimes you just have to forget about the headaches to talk about snorting lidocaine and whores.

Also again: I told my 4 year old daughter on the way to school today that it was Inauguration Day, and that we were getting a new President. She just finished learning about MLK, and asked if HE was going to be our President.

"No sweetie...His name is Barack Obama."
"Baaarraccckkk. B B Baaarracckkk. Like broccoli?"
"Sure, I guess it sounds like broccoli a little."
"But Mama, I don't LIKE broccoli!"

A Post My Folks Are Sure To Love

2009-01-14T19:55:00.002-05:00

About six months ago, I wrote this. It's a riveting piece about my girl parts. And here I go again.

Even though in July, I wrote the words "my last laser hair removal appointment", that turned out to not be the case. I'm still doing it six months later...with no end in sight. What follows is a description of the very odd day I had on Tuesday.

It all began last Friday when I got a call from the Laser people. They explained to me that the machine that I'm usually treated on is down and they'll need to switch me to a different one. Apparently the reason for the call is that the other machine is stronger, and can hurt more. I basically gave a non-committal harrumph and followed with something to the extent of "won't make a damn bit of difference anyway"... (translation: thieving whores who are just trying to get my money and probably not lasering me at all...") Upon hearing my joy at what will probably be another unsuccessful appointment, they explained that I probably should have been on this "stronger machine" from at least my third appointment.

Now you tell me.

It was then explained, that for this appointment, I would need to use a numbing cream on the treatment areas, since the machine is stronger and not in the "pain free" category. A prescription was called in, and I was to apply the cream to the treatment areas...and then wrap said areas with plastic.

I'm sorry...could you repeat that?

Yep, you got it. I had to lather this crap in my armpits and crotch and then wrap myself in saran wrap. And let me just tell you right now - wrapping your armpits in saran wrap is a physical impossibility. The sole function of saran wrap is to stick to itself...not skin. So, unless I intended to drive 30 minutes with both of my arms sticking out the sun roof, there was no way this stuff was going to stay in place. Sad part was, it took me four attempts with one armpit to figure that out.

Covering my crotch SEEMED easy enough, in theory. Put the stuff on, then a layer of saran wrap, then underwear, then pants. Easy enough. However, just like putting a child in a snowsuit, the second I got all my shit together, I had to pee. And since most women wipe after pee'ing - I needed to do the whole thing over again.

So now I've got 2 applications on my crotch, 4 on one armpit and almost none of the other.

In case you were wondering at this point in the story what it feels like to numb your coochie and then wrap it in saran wrap....it's not enjoyable. Between the goo of the cream, the saran wrap, sitting and the heat of the car - it essentially feels like I've poured a bottle of cooking oil down my pants and am trying to cook it with my vagina.

I finally reach my destination to only be told that because of the medication I'm on for my Angel-verse migraines, I should never have used the cream in the first place, and that I can't have my treatment that day because my meds and the laser apparently don't mesh.

So, if you saw a women at the mall on Tuesday, looking as though she had a log shoved up her ass, hot vegetable oil pooling at her feet, and poking herself repeatedly in the armpit.....That was me.