Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Now I am responsible for the Christmas happiness of my children and I don't think I am as good at it as my mom was. It's very stressful. We have only half of our decorations up, the tree still needs to be trimmed, and I still have presents to buy. I always procrastinate on shopping since I hate shopping (well, for other people anyway.) I am baking today because I am in two cookie exchanges. The kitchen looks like a bag of cocaine exploded in it--I am a messy baker. I think I have inhaled more powdered sugar than went on the cookies. Sage's holiday party is Thursday and I have to send in a bottle of olive oil for that. It is an international holiday party--how festive. Then we have Shepard's party on Friday, teachers' gifts to buy, Christmas cards to send, and more baking for gifts--then there's wrapping presents, seeing family, and visiting Santa. Sorry have to go breathe in a bag now.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Tuesday, December 02, 2008
At the beginning of our four days off I was full of hope and fancy ideas. I imagined quality time with our happy children and a peaceful Thanksgiving with our loving family. Why do I have these silly ideas? Am I high? It started well enough. Wednesday evening Alan and I took the kids to a movie and then spent the rest of the evening cuddling and watching TV in front of the fire. We were in such a good mood we even ended the evening with some boot knockin' and drifted off to sleep with smiles on our faces.
But I awoke at 1:30 am with severe nausea. At first I thought it might have been the popcorn. I have this disorder that causes me to continue eating popcorn until I make myself sick. However, along with the nausea, I also had chills and a headache and surmised that I was suffering from a virus. I was on the border of Vomitland but I fought it. I did not want to revisit that movie popcorn or my taco dinner. I did manage to make it through the night without losing it and was finally able to keep down a nausea pill and a sip of water. The nausea pill had the lovely side effect of making me sleep the whole day. So Alan was left to straighten the house and make the turkey for Thanksgiving.
I woke up about an hour before dinner. Alan was frantic since the turkey had gone into the oven an hour later than he planned and the cleaning had not been completed. I was a bit miffed and left to wonder what he had been doing for the past 8 hours. I also was perplexed as to why our children (or as I call them 'the help') were outside playing when there was work to be done. Do you think I went through 18 months of pregnancy, a C-section and a natural birth so they could have fun when my house needs cleaning?! And Geez Alan, if you can't multitask because you are retarded than at least use your resources! That left weak me to vacuum and dust. So the kids were running wild and Alan and were involved in a snippy snip fest when our 22 guests started to arrive.
The dinner was great and, since everyone brings their signature dish, the food was incredible. We only had two small incidents. There were two family members (one on his side and one on mine) who got mad and went out to sit in their car like silly whiny babies. They did return eventually and the evening was a success. Even Alan and I had made up by the end of the night. However, I told him that I would not be able to have sex with him for a while since the last time we did it I awoke a few hours later with severe nausea. I needed time to work through the trauma.
So this brings me to hiccups. Sunday evening I had a bad case of the hiccups and Alan managed to convince me that having sex would cure them. He made a very good case and I had to know if it was true. I had no sooner agreed to the sex when I realized the hiccups were gone. Just saying yes cured me completely!! I didn't even have to go through with the sex! I thanked Alan for curing me and then turned over and went to sleep. Don't worry, Alan got his the next morning. I am powerless to resist him for long. No, I am serious, I was powerless to resist him. It was really early and I was half asleep.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
The year was 1996...I think. Hey what do I know? I was drunk a lot too. Come on, we were young, newlyweds and childless. What else did we have to do? Well yeah, we did that a lot too. Ok, back to the story. Stop distracting me!! Since I was working at the hospital for an evening shift (3pm to 11pm) Alan decided to meet one of his high school buddies for "happy hour" after work. When I called him at home at 9pm there was no answer. I tried again at 10pm and no answer. I was starting to get really worried at that point and doing the woman thing of imaging the worst possible scenario. I also did the woman thing of calling every 10 to 15 minutes thinking that would make a difference. Near the end of my shift at about 11pm, I called again and this time he answered the phone with what sounded like "Aaaah Oooooo." I said, "Did you just get home?" And he answered, "aaa-wh-ga." My intense worried feelings switched to anger as I said, "Fine, I'm on my way home" and slammed the phone down.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
The next morning I got a call from Barbie who confessed to the act. She was mortified and very apologetic. She explained that after she did it she left the bathroom to go downstairs to get some paper towels for clean up. However, by the time her foot hit the last step, she had forgotten. She woke in the middle of the night with the horrible realization that yes, it happened and yes, I left it in their sink! Sometimes I worry that I spend too much time with friends reminiscing instead of making new memories. But I think we just made a new memory. And I will cherish it.
****I love drunk stories so feel free to share some of your own. And coming soon...one of my favorite drunk Alan stories. Which one will it be? So many choices.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Friday, November 07, 2008
My other problem is that I have a phobia associated with working out. I can't work out without listening to my iPod but I love to sing loudly when I listen to my iPod. Though when I am singing at the top of my lungs I am always inside my house or cutting the grass where no one can here me. So as I am walking the treadmill yesterday morning I am scared to death that I am going to start screaming out, in a Tourette's like fashion, song lyrics. Can you imagine? I'm rolling along on the treadmill and all of a sudden I belt out "All my flavors are guaranteed to satisfy!" Or I'm stepping along on the cross trainer when I throw my arms up and rapping "Now just throw your hands in the motherfucking air and wave the motherfuckers like you just don't care. What's my motherfucking name? Snoop Doggy Dooooooooog. Bow wow wow, yipee oh yippe a, Bow wow wow yippee O Shit!" (I just opened my eyes to see all the gym people starting at me with shocked faces.) So you see the problem, it's just too risky.
Today I decided to change it up and take a Zumba class. It's a dance/exercise class to jaunty Latin tunes. I haven't taken an exercise class in years so at first I was quite rigid and self-conscious. The instructor was Woooo Hooooing and people were shouting out "Ya-Ha!" and "Arriba!" I'm serious, they were. Cynical me was thinking 'What the hell am I doing here?!' There was a lot of shaking body parts involved and a lot of fancy shamancy steps and then the instructor called out "Are you ready to party, ladies?! Do the Merengue step!" Oh Patrick Swayze! Help me, where ever you are!! Then the jumping started and I think I peed myself--yeah, a little bit. (Curse you Shepard and your big head!) Now she's screaming "Don't forget to breathe!" Fuck, I forgot to breathe! By the end of class I had loosened up a bit and was getting my Shakira on. I even threw out a little 'Wooooo.' I couldn't commit to the 'Hooooo' though. Maybe next class. After class, I found myself wandering in the parking lot like a freaking retard because I couldn't remember where my car was. My brain must have been oxygen deprived. I wish I had remembered to breathe!
Thursday, November 06, 2008
I love personalized ringers. It is my greatest joy of cell phone ownership--to decide what ringer I would like for each of my family members and friends. I recently got a cool new phone and have to start from scratch with my ringers. I have already downloaded Alan's ringer--it's always been 'Sexual Healing' by Marvin Gaye. It's perfect for him but has caused some uncomfortable moments like when I was standing with the car mechanic and Alan called. I couldn't get to the phone fast enough and it kept singing "When I get that feeling, I want sexual healing..." The guy glared at me with a creepy smile and I could just read his thoughts, "Heh heh, you ain't a virgin, is ya?"
What I am stressing over now is what I am going to download as my all-purpose ringer. My most recent one was the theme song from "Halloween." But now that Halloween is over I am going to use that ringer for work. The two ringers I am considering are "Stronger" by Kanye West or "So What" by Pink. What do you think?
So after I make this most momentous decision I will move on to individuals--my mom, dad, and two sisters (they will be called JaJa and JuJu.) For my mom I was thinking 'Tara's theme' from Gone with the Wind 'cause she's a strong little southern belle. My dad will definitely have to be 'The Imperial March' from Star Wars.
I have two older sisters and they are more problematic. I used to have the theme from 'Cops' for my oldest sister JaJa because she is the grand dame of the Jerry Springer faction of my family. She has three daughters and, when they all lived together, they were very fond of calling the police on each other. When my middle sister JuJu heard my ringer for JaJa she thought it was hysterical. Good thing she didn't know that my ringer for her was 'Crazy Train.'
Decisions, decisions...I'll think about it tomorrow. After all, tomorrow is another day.
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
I took the boys with me and voted. I said to Sage, "Wasn't that exciting?" and he said, "No, it was kind of boring." I had no trouble voting--no long lines or riots in the street--yet. The worst part is that, like an idiot, I scheduled myself to work this evening. I called and told them I couldn't come in bcause I would be busy burying my guns in the backyard. They didn't buy it. I don't want to go to work, I would much rather sit in front of the TV all evening torturing myself.
Whoever wins I am not going to be happy. I don't like change, any kind of change. I like my life the way it is and I don't want either guy skulking around and telling me how much I have to sacrifice. However I did find this little clip. Wow, that sounds pretty good to me too. Can't wait!
***Hey Joe Biden, stop calling my house! The campaign is over, you freaking psycho!
Monday, November 03, 2008
Friday, October 31, 2008
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
The car is an interesting place for a parent. Mostly it is a giant torture chamber. Forget water boarding, just try putting a terrorist in a car with my 2 boys. Here's how it would go--the terrorist, let's call him Bob, is driving along, practicing safe defensive driving when all of a sudden he hears a scream from Shepard. Sage just took his toy. Bob yells at Sage to give the toy back and Sage is saying, "Huh? I can't hear you. Shepard is screaming." So the screaming continues until Bob threatens to "Pull this car over!" Bob never thought he would say that in his life, but he was wrong. Then Sage starts to whine that Shepard is not sharing the snack. The whining continues until he yanks the snack from Shepard's hand and Shepard begins to cry again. Then Sage asks to go to the library. Bob says no because we have to go to the bank. Both kids whine because they don't want to go to the bank. Bob arrives at the bank drive thru and is in line when he hears a sneeze. He looks back in the rear view mirror to see two snot stalactites hanging from Sage's nose AND he does not have a tissue. He finds a piece of paper under the seat and hands it back to Sage who has already used his sleeve anyway. He leaves the bank and turns up the radio to hear the news when both boys ask to hear the Miley Cyrus CD. He says no and the loud protests and shouting start "Why can't we hear Miley, Terrorist Bob?! Why do you hate Miley?! I want to hear some music!!!" They are so loud that he misses the news and so he gives in and puts on Miley. So here is Bob--stuck in traffic, listening to Miley Cyrus when from the back he hears "I have to pee right now!!" Terrorist Bob will break, I guarantee it.
However, there are some quiet moments in the car. I have discovered that it can be a great environment to talk to your kids about life issues. For some reason they tend to open up more in the car. It may have something to do with the fact that I am not looking directly at them trying to invade their brains with my mother vision. I guess the back of my head is less threatening. So we have some good conversations.
Yesterday, Sage said, "Mommy, remember that time you ran over that Christmas tree? How old was I, three?" (I was driving 65 on the interstate when the car in front of me veered off suddenly to the other lane. I found myself confronted with a Christmas tree someone had dropped off of their car. With no time to avoid it, I thought I was going to wreck but my Oldsmobile ran right over it and I kept going. I wonder if that had anything to do with all that oil leakage.)
"Yes, you were three?"
Shepard asked, "How old was I?"
"Shepard, you were still in my tummy. You weren't born yet."
Sage said, "Mommy ate you." Shepard's eyes went wide.
"No, I didn't eat you! You were a little baby and you were growing safe in my tummy until you were ready to come out."
Shepard, "How did I get in your tummy?"
"God put you there."
Shepard, "How did God put me there?"
Flashback: One summer day when I was a young teen, I was watching 'The Young and the Restless' with my mom. Teenage Tracy had just found out she was pregnant. My mom turned to me and said, "You should never have sex before you are married." And that was the extent of my sexual education from my parents. That is why I vowed that I would always be open with my children about sex and sensitive subjects. Education helps make better choices. BUT, Shepard is four and he is looking at the back of my head so I did not think this was the right time to explain to my children where babies come from.
So with the question still lingering in the air I said, "Well Shepard, God was in heaven and he decided that you should be a part of our family, so he...OH LOOK, COWS!!!!"
And he turned to look and started mooing and that was the end of that.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Sage strikes again. Let me remind you of the first time Sage wrote on his brother. Will Shepard ever learn not to trust the devil that is his older brother? I think not.
This happened while they were serving punishment time in their room. Sage claims Shepard wanted him to do it which I tend to believe since, among other things, he had a pirate drawn on his chest and a volcano on his forehead. But I don't think Shepard asked for this little gem on his lower back.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
You might wonder if I feel guilty for strong-arming my husband into commenting on my blog. And to that I say--Hellz no! If you have been reading long enough, you know I am shameless and not above whining, threats and mental torture. I learned it from my kids. Anyway, with his comment I achieved half of my personal comment best for my last post. Ha! Ok, well one of the comments was my own. So maybe a third of my personal best. I do have a dream that one day I might achieve ten comments on one post. If Jesus can reveal himself in a grilled cheese sandwich, if Britney Spears can get her driver's license back, if my husband can take time out from working (or as I like to call it, gallivanting) to comment on my blog, then I know miracles can happen. And someday, it could happen to me. Or not. It's up to you people. So will you do the right thing or will you burn in eternal hellfire? Let me know by going to my comment section. tee hee
One more thing--Hey Alan, wifely duties are suspended until you cut the grass!! ;)
Monday, October 20, 2008
**I'm coming after you next, sister-in-law!!!
Friday, October 17, 2008
Thursday, October 09, 2008
Thursday, October 02, 2008
"LOOK AT THEM!"
"OK OK, I'm looking."
"Are they dropping?"
"No, they look fine."
"You heard me. Get the ruler."
"Your labia are fine. They have not dropped."
"Thank God, safe for another year."
So here are some things that were great about my birthday...
1. Bacon--2, count them, 2 slices of bacon, bitches
2. Naked nap
3. Birthday money and guilt free shopping with MY birthday money
4. Sage played "Happy Birthday" on his guitar for me
5. My mom made me a blackberry cobbler even though she had to hunt around town for blackberries
6. When my 20 year old niece said, "You look really good for 38!!" hee hee
7. All of my email, blog and Facebook birthday wishes (Awwwwwww)
8. Tame family party with little to no drama
There weren't many, but here are a few things that disappointed me about my birthday...
1. Not enough time to shop with MY birthday money
2. I still had to do dishes, laundry and scoop cat litter
3. No half-naked men to carry me around on a royal birthday litter so my feet wouldn't have to touch the ground
4. Tame family party with little to no drama
So here is my birthday rap...
I'm 38, I'm a bad ass ho
My labia ain't swinging low
At an all night party I'm known as Speed Racer
Drinking liquor and beer with a Maalox chaser
Rollin' down hard with my birthday wishes
Fuck you all, I'm 38 bitches!
**Just so you know the last two lines were written by Alan because I was stuck. Yes, I am appalled too. I didn't know he was so gangsta.
Friday, September 26, 2008
I replied, "No, never. Never have I wished that I had a girl."
"Because I love my dirty, smelly, crazy boys."
"Don't forget disgusting" Sage said.
"Oh yeah, disgusting too."
Then I added, "I love everything about you, just the way you are....... although you could talk back less."
And with a devilish grin, Sage said, "In your dreams."
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
You definitely don't want hear about how my eyes had an allergic reaction to my contacts and how they were all bloodshot and drunk looking. And how I had to wear my nerdy glasses for a week straight and I hated it. But my friends at work thought I looked sexy and called me "The Naughty Librarian."
I do not want to bore you with stories about Alan's ring rash--it's on his wedding band finger so he cannot wear his wedding band for the week while it heals. And how I'm totally fine with that even though I will be having him followed while he is not wearing it. (I'm watching you, Alan!) We are considering tattooing a ring on his ring finger so this won't be an issue in the future. And when I say we, I mean me.
And I am absolutely not going to blog about how at a recent neighborhood party I ended the evening looking like this...
'Cause that would just be embarrassing.
There are too many things in my life that just aren't worth mentioning--like how my bathtub was filled up with water, sand, and dirty Legos for a week before Sage cleaned it OR how I cannot afford any home improvement right now so I just move furniture and pictures around to pretend that I have new stuff OR how I know I will never be thin because my gym is right next to a Mexican restaurant and while I am working out I smell the food and fantasize about Chimichangas OR how I secretly practice talking like Heidi Klum because she sounds so fricking cool Or how I think pumpkins are sexy.
I refuse to blog about these nothings. I only want to blog about somethings. So I am stuck waiting and waiting for those somethings--those interesting somethings--to happen. You will know when they happen becaue then I will blog. But until that time I will just have to remain silent. I'm out!
Tuesday, September 09, 2008
As Hanna raged outside (or whimpered really--I've seen thunderstorms worse than you, Hanna!) the mood inside was serene and sexy UNTIL...Knock, knock, knock.
Sage calls, "Mommy, Daddy!"
Alan said, "Yes, Sage. What do you need?"
Sage, "Shepard said God!"
Alan, "Well, please tell him to say Gosh or Goodness."
Dang, foiled by the Ten Commandments! Didn't see that one coming.
Monday, September 08, 2008
Tuesday, September 02, 2008
So here is my little man who asked me if he could walk to the bus stop by himself this year. When I said no that one of his parents would be walking with him, he whined, "But it is so embarrassing!!"
Isn't he handsome with his new Clone Wars lunchbox?
When all the kids were kissed and loaded and the bus pulled away the parents let out whoops of delight. Well it was really the moms, the dads just looked clueless. But don't they always?!
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Pandora also does not like her brother, Diablo, very much. We took Diablo in when Pandora was two. We thought she would like the company but we were wrong. She was PISSED and wouldn't have anything to do with us for about 6 months. Even after nine years of having him around she still growls at him and smacks him a good one whenever he gets too close to her majesty. She has never taken to the kids much either. When Sage was little and she hissed at him he would cry. It really hurt his feelings. Shepard, however, just hisses back and laughs at her.
One of our favorite things to do is tease the kids with her. If they keep jumping in our bed at night instead of staying in their bed, Alan will pick her up and tell the kids, "Here comes Pandora to cuddle up with you." And the kids run screaming. Or if they are bugging the crap out of me about wanting a cookie, I will say, "Sure you can have a cookie, but you have to kiss Pandora first." Hee hee, I love that one. Hey, what good are kids if you can't amuse yourself by tormenting them? Shepard actually did kiss her once and he didn't even lose an eye. He must have really wanted that cookie.
Yes, there are advantages to having Pandora around. BUT, and when I say 'but' I mean BUTT, here's the biggest drawback to our portly pussy. She leaves track marks on carpet. I have written about this before in one of my old posts entitled Pussy Problems. Check it out because that post has one of my favorite and most hilarious pictures of Alan in it. The gist of it is this--she is too large to clean herself properly and so she drags her butt along the carpet and leaves us the evidence.
Can you see them? It's kind of hard with our carpet, but try,ok? Squint, close one eye, cross your eyes, drink a beer, whatever. Just look closely--any vertical lines you see should not be there. I can count at least 6. That's Pandora's butt trail--aka shit. They're more impressive in person.
We try to manage this problem by washing and shaving the kitty booty. Then the vet tells me that we also need to bring her in regularly to have her anal glands expressed. Ex-Queef-Me?! Why the hell do cats have anal glands and are they really necessary? Do they serve any purpose than just to make me retch? Can't they be removed? I had all these questions and nowhere to turn until I found The Anal Sac web page. Thank God for it because it answered all my questions. Yes, they can be removed--an anal sacculectomy--but I probably cannot afford that. I also cannot afford to take her to the vet every couple of weeks for this procedure. So I informed Alan that it would be up to him to learn how to express Pandora's anal glands. He scowled at me and said, "You just want to watch me do it so you can point and cheer." Oh, that man knows me so well.
What do you think...separated at birth???
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Sage came up with his own bounty hunter costume and he would roam the neighborhood in search of people to capture. And whatever Sage does, Shepard does too. Apparently bounty hunters wear masks that only show their eyes and Sage did not have such a mask. So he improvised.
Yep, that's underwear on their heads. Although I applaud his creativity I did wonder what the neighbors thought of me with my boys running around peeking out the hole of their undies. "Son, you got a panty on your head." Quick, do you know what movie that's from? First one who names it will be the winner of the day. And no Google cheating!
Fortunately, none of the neighbors really noticed except for the 10 year old girl who lives two doors down. I overheard her say, "Sage, you left your underwear in my yard again." Ha, I might not hear that again until he's 16.
Shepard felt quite a bond with Sage during this time. He said to me, "When Sage wears underwear on his head, he's my best friend."
It's been many months since Sage has donned his bounty hunter apparel. But recently, while I was on underwear patrol (I have to monitor the boys to make sure they are wearing underwear because they often forget and since they also forget to zip up their fly, it's an important job) I handed Sage some underwear to put on. He said, "Mommy, these are the underwear I wear on my head!" I said, "I thought you didn't do that anymore." He said, "Oh, I do that in the winter. It's too hot now." So wearing your drawers on your head is seasonal. I did not know that!
Wednesday, August 06, 2008
It's not just the constant requests that have sapped my creative spark, it's the whining--I'm hungry, I'm tired, I'm bored, I'm hot, I'm cold, my feet hurt, my head hurts, my butt itches, he hit me, he's looking at me, he's copying me, he touched my legos, he's annoying me, I don't want to go there, I don't want to walk, why can't you buy it for me, YOU'RE MEAN!!
And finally there's the housework. I feel like I do nothing but pick up after them, do dishes, do laundry, and clean up the yard. I try and enlist their help but sometimes I just cannot stand any more whining. So I do it myself while plotting ways I will get back at them when they are teenagers.
After weeks of this, my summer funk turned in to an all out depression. I was convinced my children were the spawns of Satan, my life was the suckiest suckfest that ever sucked from the teat of the Queen of Suckdom AND it was all Alan's fault. Alan recognized that I was about to go all Oprah on his ass--the weeping, the constant need to talk about my feelings, and the never ending and fruitless search for my spirit. So he said, "Let's go away together--alone."
So we just returned from a lovely and relaxing long weekend in Charleston, SC. We slept late, we shopped, we ate amazing food, we drank great wine, we walked hand in hand, and we took naps. It was wonderful and just what I needed--a little separation from the kids does wonders for my attitude. I am feeling better and more patient now and am hoping this little venture will sustain me until school starts again.
That's right, I'm back!! Are you scared? I will now bust out a little rhyme to celebrate. (Lyrics borrowed from a great poet and my personal Red Neck Fantasy, Kid Rock)
J.Hi is back in original form
The legible, credible, inevitable storm
Way past the norm still misbehavin'
Finger in the air and the flag still wavin'
Happy Anniversary, Alan! Thanks for your love, friendship, support, and 14 years worth of amazing Os. Kisses!
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Actually, I didn't scream at all because she was so good. I did whimper once or twice but she couldn't hear those either! She gave me exactly what I wanted and didn't annoy me by asking if I wanted a lightning bolt or a heart waxed on the front. Honestly, who does that? At the end she gave me a thumbs up which I took to mean that my special area was one of the best she had ever seen.
I wrote a Haiku about her and here it is:
This crotch is happy
You are gentle and silent
My Anna Paula
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Well, since I am in handcuffs and spreading them, I won't be able to post that picture. Oh well, sucks to be you. Got to go, I think I am about to be tazed. Be gentle, officer!
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
I think it is true that women just don't get hungry as often as men. Or maybe it's just because we cannot compartmentalize our life like men do. We get so caught up in the tasks at hand or what's coming up that we often don't think about food. I admit that at times I feel like eating is just a burden, just another thing I have to do. Sometimes I don't feel like I have the time to build up a good appetite because Alan always gets hungry first. When Alan gets hungry I usually feel one of two ways. Either "I am NOT hungry at all so stop waving your food in my face and leave me alone so I can watch 'Top Chef' in peace" or I agree to eat even though I don't feel that hungry. The funny part is that once I start nibbling, I realize "Wow, I really was hungry" and I enjoy the meal.
Some women are all about the appetizers, but not me. When I start eating I just want to go right to the main course because that's my favorite part. Alan seems to enjoy the appetizers because he likes a long, relaxed meal. I tend to favor the quick and dirty meals.
Now don't think I never get hungry, because I do. Every so often when the planets are aligned I get completely ravenous, I'm talking a fierce hunger. These are the times that I can empathize with Alan. But that's the great thing about men--they can eat most anytime and most anywhere. So Alan is always willing to serve up a great meal for me and he is an amazing chef.
Writing this post has made me hungry. I called Alan at work and asked "What time are you coming home?" He said, "I'll leave in an hour or an hour and a half. Why?" I said, "Because I am hungry." Alan, "I'm leaving right now."
Monday, June 16, 2008
I have never felt the need to be one with nature. Growing up I was not really exposed to to the outdoors. I've never been camping in my life. My parents were beach people, not campers. I was a Girl Scout but all I remember from that time is learning how to make a Betty Crocker box cake or fashioning lovely Christmas ornaments out of Popsicle sticks and glitter. I am not opposed to the outdoors. I love looking out of the window at it. And I love sitting on my deck sipping a frosty beverage, smelling the flowers, and watching the fireflies light up the night. But experiencing it up close and personal just doesn't come natural for me.
However, I have two boys. And because I have boys I feel a responsibility to give them an appreciation of the outdoors. I would love for them to hike and fish and explore like boys should do. So I am trying my best for them but, like I said, it doesn't come naturally. I am working my way up to full blown camping so I thought a weekend in a cabin would be a good start, to ease me into it.
It's true we did not have Internet, cell phone service or a dishwasher, but our cabin wasn't totally barbaric. We had beds, a kitchen, and a small TV with a DVD player. We cooked most of our food on the grill outside and had S'mores over the campfire. It's still not my favortie thing but it was quite peaceful and wonderful at times. And I will share what I observed...
--Maybe it's just me, or because I am an 80's child, but when I am in a secluded spot in the woods, I always look around to plot my escape route in case an insane killer wearing a freakish mask comes to kill me.
--Marshmallows are disgusting in any form.
--As a girl, if I were to explore a creek, I would hop from rock to rock, being ever so careful not to get my shoes wet or fall in. Boys are not like that. Note to self, bring more clothes next time.
--I hate bugs and they know it. I am outside trying to enjoy myself and they keeping touching me and forcing me to run screaming while flapping my arms "Leave me alone! Stop touching me! I'll kill you, you fuckers!! I will. Where's the Raid?! Some Bugger Fuckers are going to die tonight!"
--I don't know what the hell a chigger is or what it looks like, but I am absolutely sure one has taken over the 3rd toe on my left foot. It freaking itches a lot! And I think my toe is even moving by itself. There, it just twitched. I am so screwed.
--If you allow your boys to run around naked in a rainstorm, that will be the first thing they tell their grandparents about the trip. And, if they were running naked in a rainstorm because they were copying one of their parents (who was not me,) that will be the second thing they tell their grandparents.
**Interesting side note about the rainstorm...After the running naked episode, we all decided to watch the movie "Sky High." This lead to an interesting discussion about what our preferred super power would be if we could choose. Shepard chose super speed and throwing fire bombs, Sage picked shape shifting, I picked flying and getting people to do what I ask them the first time I ask them, and Alan picked X-ray vision (probably because of the boobies) and super strength. Though Sage decided that Alan's power should be super fart. HA!!
I think the most important thing I learned is when you are roughing it make sure you bring alcohol, and plenty of it!
Here I am enjoying nature and a beer. As you can see, I am not straying far from the citronella candle.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Why is it that they made the kids go to school half way into June yet this whole week all they have done is watch movies? Why do the teachers think "Oh, standardized tests are done, I'm just a baby sitter now!" Isn't there something they could teach them this week? How about some important life skills like safety while cutting your parents lawn? or folding clothes and putting them in drawers? or killing, gutting, cleaning, and cooking a deer? or giving your mom a facial? or sewing your own damn button on your own damn pants?
And when was it that I became such a fuddy-duddy adult who thinks life should be about learning lessons and not playing games or watching Bill Nye the science guy for a week?
Who the hell says fuddy-duddy anymore?
Why is it that I think Sage being tardy yesterday is funny? I guess it's Van Halen's fault. It's just fun to dance around, point at him and sing, "Sage is tardy! Sage is tardy!" "Do you feel tardy? Because you are TA-A-A-Ardy!!" Sage did try and defend himself, "I was tardy because of you, mommy." Oh just because I made him carry a six pound bag of pretzels into class with him for the end of year party! What a whiner!
Why is it that bulk foods excite me so? I go to Costco and I just can't control myself. I want to buy like 3 months worth of food and then hole up in the house for the summer clinging to my guns and my religion. And a six pound bag of pretzels for five bucks seems like a great idea at the time until they make my 8 year old tardy.
Why is it that my cat takes about 5 minutes to heave up that hairball? I mean it's like huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack...and it disgusts me but I can't look away until he's done. And why is it that even though we have hardwood everywhere downstairs he always has to go to the rug to throw up?
And finally, why is it that I can't get that Soulja Boy song out of my head. I don't even know the words but I keep singing it anyway. Aaaaaaaaaah, Soulja boy da da da oh, wha wa ba ba wha wa rooooooolllll, wha wa crank that Soulja boy, Superman, la la la Ooooooohhhhhhhhh. And how many times will I have to watch it on You Tube to purge it from my brain forever...or to memorize it and learn the dance--whichever. Crank that thang.
Monday, June 09, 2008
How did we get from here.......................................to here?
June 9th, 2000--Sage was born. He was breech so they slit me open like a fish and pulled him into this world. Knowing Sage, I am pretty sure this was his plan all along--to make a dramatic entrance, butt first.
He was such an adorable and easy going baby, he lulled me into thinking it was going to be a piece of cake.
I should have known he was different when at 3 years old he told his preschool class that for Halloween he was going to be a Minotaur. The teacher said, "Well, Sage, can you tell us what a Minotaur is?" "Half man, half bull, " he explained. I am more of a 'buy the costume' type than 'make the costume' type, however Minotaur costumes are nonexistent so I had to figure it out. I was starting to wonder if I could keep up with this boy.
When he was 3 years and 11 months Shepard was born. I will never forget the smile on his face when he met and held him for the first time. Now Sage acts the part of the typical older brother--telling him the thunder is going to get him, telling him the dentist is going to hurt him, standing behind him and whispering "The darkness" over and over again until Shepard runs away crying. But there are times when I see him look at Shepard with that same glowing smile and I can feel the love.
Age 5 and off to school he went without a look back at Mom and Dad. That's when most of our troubles began. I have had to share him with the world and I am not happy about it. In three years we have already had to deal with bullying, unacceptable friends, forgery and his aversion to education. I tried to tell him "Education is the best gift you can ever receive." To which he replied, "NO, a motor bike is the best gift you can ever receive!" He is stubborn, moody, and likes to get a rise out of me. In a moment of unexpected honesty, he once admitted that he will say things just to see me yell. Sometimes I feel like I am always two steps behind him. The day he was born my heart became an open wound that will never heal. He'll never know how much I think about him and struggle with every decision I make. I hope I am doing right by him.
Though he is challenging at times I still love his wide open spirit. He is not afraid to show his enthusiasm, to shake what his mama gave him, to laugh and be laughed at, and to show who he is without apology. Never dull, he can always surprise me and most of the time make me smile.
Raising Sage is like reading a great novel--I cannot put it down and look forward to turning each page because I can't wait to see what happens next.
Happy 8th Birthday, Sage!!
Friday, June 06, 2008
The weatherman predicted hot as your brain on drugs yesterday so Shepard and I went to Chick-Fil-A for lunch and fun on the indoor play set. In the middle of his glee he abruptly stops and in a pained voice declares he has to go to the bathroom. Then he runs. By the time I caught up with him he was already in the stall with the door locked. I can see him through the crack in the stall and he is sitting--uh oh. And then, "Mommy, I'm pooping!" That is usually my cue to come and do the wiping. But this time I say, "Sorry, Bud, you locked the door and I can't get in. Can you unlock the door?" He yells, "I can't! There's poop in my butt!!" Snickers from the other bathroom occupants. I tell him, "Well, you will just have to wipe yourself this time." Shepard says, "No, I can't! You need to crawl under." "No, Shepard, I am not crawling under." He tries again and through the crack I see him pointing to show me the way, "Just crawl under there." "No Shepard, I cannot crawl under."
I see him hop off of the toilet, do the 'pants around your ankles and poop in your butt' shuffle up to the door. He unlocks and I enter the stall and lean over to see the damage. I silently apologize to Sheryl Crow 'cause I am going to need a lot more than one square for this job. So while I'm bent over wiping my son's ass the tsunami-loud automatic flushing toilet keeps going off and spraying me in the face with toilet water. Aw hell, was my mouth open?! Shepard says, "Are you done?" Toilet flushes again. Alan might be right about this one. This baby is going to Daddy's butt wiping boot camp ASAP.
Tuesday, June 03, 2008
So here's a diet update--It's slow but there has been progress. I have lost a good solid 8 pounds. I was hoping for more by this point but I have to face the fact that I am older and have no air brushing at my disposal. On the bright side, I am down to one chin and inches have been lost. I have not been able to drop to the lower size in pants yet; however, the size I wear is very loose on me. Let's just say that my butt crack will definitely be needing some SPF 30 soon.
I have also been exercising, Ack! I am allergic to exercise but the drinking helps me through it. I go to a ladies' gym with my mom. The weight machines are set up in a circle and we cycle through them twice and then we're done. I hate to brag but I am probably the strongest and most energetic of anyone at the gym. Of course most of the women at the gym are about 20 to 30 years older than me. But hey, I'm kicking their ass!!
So here I was feeling good about myself until yesterday.
Sage "Can we go to the pool today?"
Me "No, I'm not ready to get into a bathing suit just yet."
Sage "Because you're fat?"
Actually, I was thinking more of the body hair situation than the fat situation.
Shepard chimed in, "Why are you fat, Mommy?"
Sage "Shepard, Mommy's not fat. She's not!"
Yeah, whatever, he just wanted to go to the pool, the little liar.
Countdown...25 days until my 20th high school reunion. Will I drop a size? Will my butt crack peel? Will the ladies at my gym make it to the end of the month? Will my boys ever develop any tact? Will I throw my scale from a tall building, beat it with a bat, scream at it, spit on it and then try to weigh again? Is the suspense killing you? Stay tuned.
Friday, May 23, 2008
I have tried to do my part by using compact fluorescent bulbs, giving up the hair spray, and cutting back on my beer, Benadryl, and bikini wax runs. But my efforts seem trite. I've searched my soul on what else I could do to make a larger impact. What could a person like me--a wife, a mother and a nurse--do to give her life meaning? Today I am starting a campaign that I think will really make a difference in reducing the greenhouse gases in our atmosphere and I hope you will all join me in this effort.
SAVE OUR PLANET, EAT MORE STEAK
That's right, the cows must die to save us all. Do you realize that methane is more potent than CO2 in contributing to greenhouse gasses? Cattle in the U.S. alone emit 5.5 million metric tons of methane per year into the atmosphere. Cow emissions are far more dangerous than all the U.S. SUV emissions combined. I cannot stand idly by while these belching bovines of destruction are polluting our planet. I say we slaughter them and dine upon their flesh.
I am willing to make the sacrifice of eating steak every night (with some fava beans and a nice Chianti) if it means saving Mother Earth. If I have to raid the weapons cache I am amassing under the floor boards of my bed and put a bullet in each cow's brain personally, I will do it. I'll take my message to my family, friends and anyone who can hear me shout from my lawn chair in the front yard. And when I see Al Gore riding by in his limousine or flying overhead in his Lear Jet, I will raise my fists in the air and proudly shout, "We did it, Al!!! We made a difference today!"
After I have taken care of the cows, I will turn my attention to the polar bears. Whose bright idea was it to make them an endangered species?! Has anyone tested their emissions? The polar ice caps are melting at an increased rate and who are the owners of the fat, white butts sitting directly on them? Coincidence?! I don't think so. The polar bears are NOT your friends, people!!
Friday, May 16, 2008
Me, "OK, I arrived home with groceries in the trunk. Shepard was with me and I told him to get out of the car and run like a freak to the door because it was pouring rain. I opened the trunk and started to get the bags. Shepard was ringing the doorbell but you didn't open the door for him."
Alan, "I was in the bathroom."
Me, "I don't care. Your child was freezing in the rain."
Alan, "He wasn't freezing, it was 70 degrees."
Me, "That's not the point. You didn't let us in even though I called ahead to let you know I was coming."
Alan, "I had to go to the bathroom."
Me, "You are a grown man. You should have held it."
Alan, "It wouldn't be held. OK, I think we need to do an actual reenactment of the events."
Me, "Are you kidding me?"
Alan, "No, it will help, really. Go out to your car."
So I went out to the car and pretended to get groceries out of the trunk in the rain. I came to the front door and Alan and I reenacted our argument,
Me, "I called you to let you know we were coming! Why didn't you let us in?"
Alan, "I was in the bathroom!"
Me, "So what! Your poor child was standing in the rain and you were just sitting there!!!"
Alan, "WITCH!" Then he said, "Oh, I only thought that at the time."
Me, "ASS! I think I actually said that."
So the reenactment continues. I came in the house loaded with groceries, sniped at Alan and then I remembered something important. As I was passing him in the foyer, Alan said, "So is there anything else in the car?"
Me, "Yeah, the cat litter but I already closed the trunk. Here take my keys and open it."
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa HA!!!!! I looked at Alan and he has that 'Oh whoops' look on his face because now I know I didn't lose the keys, but he did! So he went outside to started reenacting his own actions. I just walked straight to the closet and fished my key out of his rain jacket. So as I was beating Alan about the head and neck for making me think I had lost my keys forever, he was laughing. He grabbed me, held me close and said, "You see, that's what our marriage needs--a little role play. It will spice things up. "
Monday, May 12, 2008
FLASHBACK: about a week and a half ago I am lying in my bed, sick as crap and receiving little to no sympathy from my husband (See my April 30th post--you know, the day I became a lesbian.) In one of my feverish rantings I seem to recall screeching something at Alan to the effect of "I HOPE YOU GET JUST AS SICK AS I AM ONE DAY AND I WILL BE SURE TO TREAT YOU THE EXACT SAME WAY YOU HAVE TREATED ME!!!!"
My lips curled up in a dreamy half smile. My curse actually worked! I couldn't help but feel a bit satisfied as I said, "Oh honey, sorry you're sick. Good luck with that and I hope the kids aren't too wild. I will see you tonight at about 8pm."
We were not busy at work so it was a very peaceful day. I was able to do some reading and enjoy some girl talk with my co-workers. I also received regular progress reports from Alan--how he had to fix the boys lunch even though he felt like he was going to throw up, how he had to figure out how to keep the boys occupied inside while he took a nap, how they kept coming in his room when he was trying to sleep (saying things like 'Daddy, I'm thirsty', 'Daddy, Sage is annoying me', and 'Daddy, Shepard hit me in my wrong spot!'), how he had to search the neighborhood when Shepard ran off to a neighbor's yard, and how he had to deal with Sage who was misbehaving outside. And I'm still smiling.
So that night, I stood beside our bed looking down at a pale and sickly Alan. I am a vengeful bitch and I am not sorry, so I said it. "Alan, before I go and take over with the kids, I just want you to know that what you experienced today is exactly what I experienced for three days when I was sick and had no help or sympathy. I hope you remember this." He whimpered, "Yes, I will, I am sorry, I will do better next time." Hey, I'm not proud but I can't help it--revenge is fricking SWEET!
Sunday could not have been better. I had to work a half day but when I arrived home Sage and Shepard presented me with a Mother's day sign that they had made. I then climbed into bed wearing one of Alan's shirts and took and long nap curled up next to my poor sick man. The evening was perfect. We all ate pizza and ice cream while watching "Raiders of the Lost Ark." Did I mention I didn't wear a bra the whole night? It was like heaven--truly the best Mother's Day ever.
Wednesday, May 07, 2008
Monday, May 05, 2008
I really enjoyed it. I don't go to many concerts anymore but when I do I realize how much I love to go to concerts. It is so incredibly energizing. It also brings back some good memories.
Since this post was so entirely lame and in honor of one of my favorite Van Halen songs, I have decided to give an encore to one of my favorite posts of all time.
I hope you lick it!! I'm a screamer for ice cream
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
REALITY--I lay in my dark room for hours with no one coming to check on me. I muster up the energy to yell out for help, again and again, but no one comes. I finally have to use my cell phone to call Alan, who is downstairs, to come check on me and bring me a drink.
FANTASY--My dream woman would be checking on me frequently and anticipating my every need--food, medicine, a cold beverage or my pillow turned so it's always on the cool side.
REALITY--Me, "I am so cold, I am shivering. Do we have any warm blankets." Alan, "No, we don't" and walks away.
FANTASY--Dream woman enters the room, feels my head and says,"Oh, you have a fever you poor thing. Let me get you some warm blankets and tuck them right around you. Later I will draw you a warm bath."
REALITY--My mom comes over to drive me to the doctor while my dad watches the kids. The doctor is an ass and tells me I have an unresolved sinus infection with probable asthma. I think I have the flu but he won't test me. Also I never had asthma until I started seeing you, Dr. Prick with Nice Hair. When I come home both kids are running wild outside and my dad is mad at Sage for not minding and Sage says it's because Papa called his bike a "midget bike." And Sage and Shepard cry as I ground them and send them both to their room. I'm not really that mad at them but I ground them just so I can get some rest.
FANTASY--Dream woman goes to the pharmacy and fills my prescription. She gets me back in bed and puts the kids to work cleaning their room as she sings a happy tune to make it fun for them.
REALITY--The kids are fighting and not letting me rest. I think I snapped because next thing I know I am shrieking like a hell beast on the phone with Alan. I am pretty sure I threatened his life and the life of his boss if he doesn't work from home tomorrow. And I might have said something about shoving things up their assess or down their throats--I can't remember. Alan does agree to come home but then he says, "What are we doing for dinner?" I hear the shrieking again and realize it is coming from me as I reach through the phone and tear him a new one. That's what got me to the curled up in ball, crying stage.
FANTASY--Dream woman arranges child care so I can rest. She makes me a lovely bowl of soup and gives me medicine that tastes like rum punch.
So you can see why I really need me a good woman. Now you men don't get all worked up because the one thing I will not need her for is sex. And there are two reasons for that:
Number 1: That would be gross.
Number 2: I am a woman and I don't need sex that often. Like a camel storing water I can store up one sexual encounter in my hump (my lovely lady lump) and live off of that for weeks, nay months if I have to. And that's not a threat. It's not even a promise. That's a fact, Jack!