I'm a Survivor

I survived the iBook Riot of Richmond!! If you don't know what I am talking about, here is the link...

Times Dispatch article

Our county was selling off iBooks because they are switching to Dell for the school kids. Anyway, they had 1,000 to sell for $50. Alan and I thought we might as well try and get one since it was such a good deal. Would have been cool for Sage and I to use around the house. So we arrived at 5:30 and got in a long line. Turns out there was no need for a line because the idiots running the sale just opened the gate up at 7 and let people run in like crazy freaks. It was ridiculous. People were trampled, thank goodness there were only minor injuries. Alan and I were not at the front and not involved in the trampling. Although I told my mom (just for fun) that I was the one who ran over the old man with the walker. :)

Anyway, Alan and I didn't get one. Mainly because we are not aggressive people and are not willing to trample, push, or cut in front of people. We are too civilized, I guess. I was disappointed but I figure that those people must have needed it a lot more than I did. What really made us angry was the way the whole thing was handled. I think they should have let people in gradually instead of in a huge stampede. They could have also passed out numbers or tickets guaranteeing you a computer instead of letting 10,000 people stand out in the hot sun wondering if they would get one. Alan and I stayed a good while hoping that we might have a shot. Also because rumors were running rampant that they had more than 1,000 iBooks. Why else would they let all those people just stay there waiting? We found out later it was because they were idiots. It was really unnecessary for people to get hurt over this. I talked with two high school students who had been trampled. The girl had scrapes on her elbow, knees, shoulder and hip. The guy had a footprint mark on the back of his shirt and told me "I thought I was going to die." That really upset me. They only had 5 off duty cops there at the beginning of the sale and by the end had 70 cops there, some in riot gear. Alan said that was like closing the barn door after the horse had already run out.

The guy who was in charge of running the sale made some very ignorant comments in the news after the sale such as "people came out for the excitement or entertainment value." And they (the county) would not have done anything any differently. That really pissed me off and I wrote him a scathing email. I also wrote the Board of Supervisors to complain about him. I am such a rebel. ;)

Well, though we came away empty handed (except for a sunburn) it wasn't all bad. Just mostly. I did meet some nice people and had a few laughs. They liked it when I played Bob Marley's "Get up, Stand up" for them from my iPod. Alan and I had some alone time--we bonded. And I can always tell my grandchildren how I was there at the iBook Riot of 2005. :) I had a great idea for a t-shirt "I stood in line for an iBook and all I got was this lousy t-shirt." Someone beat me to the punch though. Check it out
http://www.tuaw.com/2005/08/16/henrico-ibook-chaos-makes-good-t-shirt-fodder/
Very funny.

Pussy Problem

Or is it a kitty conumdrum? My cat is sooooo fat. How fat is she? She is sooooo fat that she cannot clean her own ass. As you can imagine, there is a crappy, smelly buildup. And just to add an exclamation point to the fact that she has a nasty ass, our little darling has recently started the practice of dragging her large bottom around and leaving track marks on the carpet. It's her own little breadcrumb trail, but with shit. So we tried to handle it like this...

But the size 4 diaper didn't really fit and did not stay on long. As you can tell she is not amused.

So now we have to take her to the vet every six weeks for her booty shave. We also have to wash the area on a regular basis. And Daddy Alan gets the pleasure of being the resident cat ass washer. I am on the side of the tub yelling, "Clean that kitty! Polish that Pussy!" As you can tell he is not amused.

Meow!

11? Feels like 107

Today Alan and I are celebrating our 11th anniversary. We always joke that it feels like so much longer. And for me it does, but not in a bad way. I feel like my life began when I met him. It is just hard for me to think about the years that I did not know him--well, except for the college years which were kick ass--woooooo!! Anyway, we met in second semester of our 4th year at UVA which was perfect timing. We had both sown our wild oats apart and now were ready to sow some together. Boy, that sounded so 'Corn'y! Ha, I crack myself up. We started dating on March 27th, 1992 and he asked me to marry him on December 23rd, 1993. That was a formality really because from very early on I knew I would marry him. Alan claims that he knew he would marry me after our first meeting. On the one hand that is so cool, but on the other hand it's a little creepy. Is he my soulmate or my stalker?

So you may ask, after 11 years are you still in love with him? Yes, yes and again yes. Of course it is a very different love than it was 11 years ago--then it was all "this is so romantic being able to finally live with you and have sex and be all cutesy." Now I would describe it as a "you are my partner in all things and the father of my children and if you ever left me alone with them I would take a Henkel and cut out your still beating heart" kind of love. Yes, love means
never having to tell your mate that you don't want any more children because he feels the same way.

On that note, for his anniversary present, Alan will receive a pack of Trojans and a gift certificate for a few sessions of couple's therapy. Alright, I am just kidding about the therepy, but the Trojans, mabye not so much. My kids are the best gift Alan has ever given me, but if I want to stay married another 11 years or more, we have to stop at 2. And ever since Shepard has grown out of the infant stage we have been able to get out on our own a little more and recapture some of the passionate 1994 love. Yes, I have a thong and I am prepared to use it!! Now I am exciting myself. Gotta go and shave the pits for my romantic night. Holla!

The Fives

The five best days of my life...

1. The day I walked onto the grounds of UVA and realized that I was leaving all the high school shit behind and I could be a cool kid now
2. The day I married my husband (which was also the day that I started having sex.)
3. The day that I was sliced open like a fish and Sage was pulled out into my world.
4. The day that I became a birth warrior and without drugs pushed Shepard out into my world defying the odds and the crappy medical community that continues to discourage birthing families
5. The day that McDonalds started taking debit cards--Ba da ba ba bah--I'm lovin' it!!

Going Down? Too Scared

Sage and I were walking side by side around the mall yesterday. We were not holding hands because apparently age 5 is when one starts to become embarrassed to hold his mother's hand in public. Or it may be that he wanted to be free to wander to all the places he finds interesting since wherever I want to go is always too "boring." So we approach the escalator side by side, step on the metal platform side by side, and step onto the escalator side by...oops, wait a minute, where is Sage? I glance down and realize he is not by my side. I turn around to discover that he is still standing on the metal platform. For a moment I stand there shocked and descending while Sage looks at me with his eyebrows raised. I snap out of my shock and I whisper yell, "Sage, come on!!" He replies, "I can't, Mommy, I'm afraid to step on." (Sidenote: Sage has been on escalators before and he is not afraid of escalators. He was just freaked out about the taking the first step and I can totally understand that for who among us hasn't given pause as we stare down at that moving step, then another, then another, then another, then..sorry, back to topic) So I whisper yell again, "Just do it!!" Great advice, huh? Sage, "No, I am too scared."

Usually I would just ride down and then ride right back up to collect my child. But the problem is that the up escalator is not right beside the down escalator, it is a little further down the mall. Not very far, but far enough that Sage would be out of my eyesight for about one minute. This thought raises my anxiety level to orange. So I start stepping, trying to walk up the down escalator. After about 10 seconds I realize that I am not moving. What I mean is that my legs were moving, but I was making no progress in my climb. I increase the pace or so I thought and I am still going nowhere fast. Damn, this escalator is flying! So, I start to run up the stairs, trying my best to reach my baby. Finally I reach within 3 steps of the metal platform only to realize that I cannot traverse the moving flat part of the escalator without most likely having an incident. I call out to him, "Ok, step on." Sage "No." At that moment, I see a nice man walking by who is looking over at Sage in a concerned manner. He says something to him like "you ok, buddy?" then he sees me doing my mall stairmaster workout. I managed to say, "He's afraid to step on." So what does this nice man do? He smiles and keeps walking. Well, fuck you very much, kind sir.

At that point I just give up and just let the escalator take me. I yell up to Sage, "Stay right there. Do not move!! I am coming to get you!!" So my workout changes from stairmaster to speed walking down the mall to the up escalator, and then back to stairmaster as I run up. I finally have my beloved child in sight. He is standing on the metal platform tapping his toe on first moving step. I am almost to him when I hear an older lady remark to her friend, "Is anyone with that child?" I promptly claim him, "I am. He's with me." I take his hand and we step on the down escalator. As we are decending I look back to see the lady watching me and giving me a look that seems to say 'How could you leave your child alone playing near an escalator?' So I give her my own look back that says 'Lady, don't judge me 'cause I'll kick your ass. I work out!"

A Sage Moment X4

When you have children, people often give the advise "You should write that down." But sadly, I never have...until now. 'A Sage Moment' will be a running feature on my blog. It's my chance to write down the things that Sage does or says that I would like to remember. Here are the latest gems from my Sage...

I had to take him to get his 5 year old immunizations last week. He was understandably very upset about the whole process and I don't blame him. Getting one shot is hard enough for a little guy, but he had to get three. Anyway, I ended up having to wrap my legs and arms around him in order for him to be still enough to receive the shots (my pediatric nurse experience always comes in handy.) So that night when Alan got home he said to Sage, "I heard you had to get shots today, poor thing. But I heard you were very brave." Sage looked at Alan with a puzzled face and said, "No, I wasn't. I was a scardy cat."

During a tender moment with Sage I was trying to express to him how much I love him. I said, "You know what you are like? It's like someone took a knife, cut off part of my heart, stuck legs arms and hair on it and now you are walking around." He looked at me and said, "Awww, shucks." :)

This morning I told Sage that he couldn't play until he picked up the one thousand and two Lego pieces off the floor of his room. He was very outdone that I would not help him. After about 5 minutes alone in his room he walked into the office and said, "Mama, my pinkie toe really hurts and so I can't clean."

Sage, Shepard and I were all fascinated by the garbage truck this morning. We watched as a mechanical arm emerged from the side of the truck to pick up and empty our trash can. Sage described it well; he said, "It's like an evil grasp."

A Shepard's Tale

I have discovered that Shepard is starting to learn his body parts--well, actually just one, his penis. I told Alan that though I had been working on 'Where's your nose?' for a week, Shepard only seemed to know his penis. So we decided to test him in the bath. I asked Shepard, "Where's your penis?" He smiled and grabbed his penis. Then, "Where's your nose?" Blank stare. "Where's your penis?" He grabbed his penis, squealed "Eeeeeee", then clapped. "Where's your nose?" Blank stare, again.

Oh the penis, isn't that truly a man's best friend?

No, Norman, your teeth will rot

We have tried to teach Shepard baby signs as we did with Sage. Shepard does a few signs but has seemed to go straight to talking. At this point in his little life (14 months old) he has quite a vocabulary--hi, bye bye, ball, kitty, bird, side (for outside), Daddy, Mama, and Ga (for Sage.) Of course his all time favorite word is cookie which he says in a high pitched little squeal that sounds more like "Cu-keeeee!!" The little bugger was saying 'cookie' before he even said 'Mama'--the nerve!! He asks for a cookie no less than 37 times a day--even after breakfast. He recognizes the cookies bags and boxes and even knows that I keep a few cookies in a purple snack cup in his diaper bag. The boy knows his cookies.

So what was I thinking on my recent trip to the grocery store? Things were fine at first; Shepard was sitting in the cart calmly smiling up at me as if he understood my stream of consciousness chatter about the items on our shopping list. Somewhere between the juice and the frozen food is when it happened--I turned down the cookie aisle. I was strolling along unaware when I heard the first sounds emanate from Shepard. A soft and delighted, "Cu-kee." As we rolled on the volume started to slowly escalate and the "kees" became longer and shriller. Before I knew it I was the Janet Leigh in Baby Psycho. Standing in the cookie aisle, the camera rushes to a tight shot of my horrified face. Instead of the staccato shrieks of the violin during the shower scene, it's the escalating sounds of "Cu-kee! Cu-keee! Cu-keeee! Cu-keeeee!" I frantically searched for a way out, but everywhere I turned were Oreos, NutterButters, a menagerie of Animal Crackers and the damn Keebler elf, his jolly grin, mocking me. I glanced back, but then decided to make a run for it straight ahead. All the while "Cu-keee! Cu-keee!" ringing in my ears. I raced to the end turned the corner and came to rest in the coffee section, out of breath, heart pounding, ears ringing. With eyes closed I tried to calm myself. Shepard was finally quiet. My heartbeat slowed to normal. I opened my eyes and looked down at Shepard. He reached out for me, grinned angelically and said, "Cu-kee!" (add staccato violins sounds here)

Frogger Fantastic

Went out browsing today with the boys 'cause there was nothing else to do and I did not want to go home and sit in the house. On a whim, and because it was on sale, I bought a plug and play Frogger game. I freakin' love those plug and play games. I still get to enjoy playing a video game or two without the commitment of an X-Box. The graphics are pretty good on these plug and plays though I suspect the X-Box games are better. But, hell, what do I care? I grew up with Atari. I could be content to just move a line around the screen to keep the dot from going away. I do not mind little tanks made out of 4 squares. It's all good! Plus I was an Atari goddess. I could tear it up on Atari. I was schweeeet.

But sadly now, I have turned into one of those adults that I used to laugh at--the ones that have very little coordination and the reaction time of a frozen snail. But back in the day, I was the Frogger Queen. My frogs were just a green blur--I was magic! I think my mad frog skills started to decline around the time that the Mario Brothers hit. Then it was college, marriage, kids--lots of stuff came along and kept me and the frog apart. But now the Queen is back, biatches!! Eat my froggy dust!

The Fives

Five things that really creep me out...

1. Argyle
2. A single hair--you know like the single hair you find in your food or on the bar of soap or the hair sticking out of a mole
3. Verne Troyer
4. Men with hairy necks--cause if their neck is that hairy, what is their back like?
5. Civil War Reenactors

Another Sage Moment

We went to dinner with Alan's family tonight. I took Sage to the bathroom and turned my back in the stall while he pooped. He likes his privacy, you know. So I am standing there waiting and I hear him say, "Hmmm, my poop is black today." The way he said it seemed to indicate that he checks this each day. I wonder what the color of his poop means to him. I should have asked.

A Sage Moment

Sage was playing with some of his 5 year old toys when Shepard walked up and started grabbing them. Sage exclaimed, "Aaaaw, Shepard, go pick on somebody your own size!"

The Fives

The five things I appreciate more after having children...

1. Alone time--to shop, eat, drive, poop, blog, etc.
2. Cranking music with explicit lyrics in the car
3. Urinary sphincter control
4. Silence
5. My parents

The Cowboy Mouth Experience

Last Friday night Alan and I went to see Cowboy Mouth in concert here in Richmond. We had fallen in love with this band after seeing them at Jazz Fest in New Orleans in April. Our good friends had been telling us how great they were for years, but you really cannot appreciate them until you see them live and they will blow you away!! Anyway, we were very excited to see them in our own hometown and especially since it was free!! Free is always good for me!!

We had Alan's parents keep the kids for the night so we could let loose and Hakuna Matata it. And I should say we did! I was very proud of us. We arrived early and snagged a great front row center spot--standing, of course. Cowboy Mouth did not disappoint. They are like a lightening bolt through your soul and you have no choice but to move with their song.

About half way through the show, Fred (the drummer/lead singer) threw a cracked drumstick into the audience. I turned around to discover that it had fallen behind me and I noticed a blond-haired girl begin to stoop to pick it up. But with my catlike reflexes, I snatched it up before she knew what had happened. I do not feel guilty about this at all. After all, I am a stay at home mother of 2 boys. I need a little excitement of my own creation at times; excitement that has nothing to do with pee, poop, or spilled Cheerios. Little did I know that the adventure was not over.

During the fianle of the show, the band had launched into "Jenny Says." Fred was telling people to get up on stage and dance. Suddenly I realized that he was staring into my eyes over the drumset, pointing his drumstick at me and saying, "YOU! Come on up here." It was as if God himself looked down on me from on high and declared "Yes, come on up, you made the cut!" OK, I am being a bit dramatic here, but just remember, I don't get out much. Alan and some other guys in the crowd hoisted my big ass over the four foot barrier and I managed to jump up on the stage. Then I preceded to let it all go. I danced, pranced and had a ball with Alan looking up at me and cheering me on.

Since I have become a parent I tend to dissect events and analyze them, searching for the meaning, the lesson, the why and what have I learned of it all. So, what can I take away from this night? What did I learn while dancing wildly on stage? I learned that Alan and I do not go out alone enough. I learned that we really do need to let go, have fun, and recharge. We need to continue to make memories that just involve the two of us. I think this is one of those memories--The Cowboy Mouth Experience.

Hey Alan, to us! Cheers!!

If anyone orders Merlot...Wha? Huh?

This all started in May when Alan's parents went on the Sideways
wine tour near L.A. So Alan's dad comes home as the Sideways expert. This is not the type of movie he would usually enjoy. The last movie I saw him excited about was Saving Private Ryan. If not for the predominace of wine in the movie, I am quite sure he would not even give this movie a second haughty sniff. So even though we got our copy of the movie from Netflix a month before, Tom insisted that we couldn't watch it until he came over and watched it with us. Then the elaborate scheme started. He decided that while we watched the movie we would taste the same wine that they were tasting in the movie (he had bought a lot of the wines on his tour.) And then he declared that Alan had to cook a nice dinner to complement the wines. So Alan and I finally decided to do the dinner on Father's Day evening. On Thursday while on the phone with his dad I heard Alan say, "So, we can have dinner and then watch the movie." Pause "Oh, we are watching the movie first? OK." To which I whispered to him, "No, not ok. We have to watch the movie after dinner so the kids will be in bed." Alan tried to explain this to his dad but they decided that would interrupt the "natural progression" of wine, food, etc.

I was not happy about this turn of events because I knew it would mean certain disaster. Dinner time is not only starts one of the busiest times of the day, it is also fussy time for Shepard. I knew I would not be able to enjoy the movie if I had to worry about kid issues. Though I thought I was just being logical, Alan said I was not being open-minded. Since I got painted with the bad guy brush, I tried to suck it up and go with the flow.

Summary of the evening...They arrived at 5:00. We didn't get the movie started until about 6 due to kid issues. Alan's mom was supposed to take care of the kids while we watched the movie, but she is just not familiar with the evening routine. So, I still had to make Shepard's dinner, get Sage a snack, start the bath, get PJs out, and nurse Shepard. While we are watching the movie Shepard is fussing in the background and Sage was running around poking us with his light saber and yelling, "I am the evil Sith Lord!!" We had to keep shuffling Sage off to another room since the movie was rated R and they kept dropping the F-bomb and having sex. We had to pause the movie every 5 or 10 minutes to take care of kids or so Alan's dad could get the next wine ready.

Then Tom kept talking throughout the movie---"Oh, we were at that winery. We stood right there." "Do you taste the hints of asparagus in this wine?" "We ate there! We sat at that table. They didn't have tables along that wall." "We stayed in that hotel!" "This next line is funny. He is saying if anyone orders Merlot, he is leaving." "She is getting ready to give a great speech about wine." "This is the funniest part of the movie coming up." "Remember she told him the hotel was to the right and see how she is turning to the left."---It went on and on. Alan finally spoke up and said, "Ok, thanks for the commentary, John Madden." But his dad didn't get it. We finally ate dinner at 9 (even though Alan had assured me that we would eat by no later than 7:30) and Sage was not in bed until 10. Then we had to watch the rest of the movie. So we started the movie at 6 and didn't finish it until 11!! I had let go of my anger by then--drinking 5 different kinds of wine in one evening helps. :)

I could see it in Alan's face that he knew I had been right. Trying to watch the movie first was a big mess. Of course in all of his manliness he couldn't come out and admit it and just apologize. But I think he knows deep down that Mommy knows best.

Got Milk?

I had lunch with my friend Karen. Her son Sammy is the same age as Sage (born in 2000.) We met at Burger King with the boys. We had not seen them in a while so Sage and Sammy were very excited to see each other and immediately ran to the play area. We sat and watched them play and chatted. Then Karen went off to the bathroom. While she was gone Sammy came back over near the table and he spit up a small amount on the floor. The lady at the next table brought it to my attention so I grabbed a baby wipe and went over to wipe his mouth. I told Sammy to sit down and rest and he says, "I'm fine." He then proceeds to vomit what I think was a gallon of milk all over the floor. I am standing there holding a baby wipe watching the horror with milk vomit splattered all over my cutest shoes. The people at the adjacent tables were scattering in all directions. Sage is standing there holding his mouth like he is going to lose it next. So I yelled, "Sage, back away, just get away!!" Karen is still in the bathroom. I am standing there stunned and cannot leave the kids to get Karen or to get the Burger King mop brigade. So one of the other moms offers to go get Karen. And Sammy says, "I feel better now!"

Karen says he does this every so often when he drinks too much milk and runs around. So the Burger King mop man comes over to clean it up and Karen tells me "Oh, go ahead and get your food." That is really the last thing I wanted to do at that moment. While we were eating Sammy started coughing and Sage said to him, "Sammy, don' t throw up again!"

Oh and don't worry, my shoes are fine. They cleaned up nicely.

Penis Envy?

Why is it that I have just as much fun with my 5 year old son's birthday presents as he does? Am I reliving my childhood or am I living my first childhood as a boy? Of course as a young girl I played with young girl toys. And at 34 I finally discover that Barbie does not compare with an electronic light saber to battle your neighborhood foes or building your own TIE fighter with Legos. I love the boy toys--I love them all!! Sometimes I have a nasty urge to rip the toys out of his precious little hands and scream "MINE!"

So was I deprived as a child? Is my current discontent due to playing with the wrong toys? No, I believe I get the best of both worlds--growing up doing girly things and now experiencing the magic of a little boys life.

So the other day while wearing huge The Thing hands, Sage punched me right in the groin. I yelled, "Ow, that hurt!" Sage replies, "Sorry, mommy, for hitting you in your penis." I said, "I don't have a penis." He laughed and said, "Oh, I forgot. Sorry for hitting you where your penis should be."

Episode IV

I have been staring at this blog for a week wondering how to start. So I decided to start in the middle or actually start in the present--the here and now.

My first baby boy, Sage, just turned 5 on Thursday. We had his kid party in the backyard yesterday. We had four of his friends over for a Sponge Bob party. The kids had lots of water fun in the backyard with a big blow up pool and a Slip and Slide. They had a ball. We also had a Sponge Bob piñata which would not die. We let each kid have a couple of whacks at it with the bat. Nothing happened. So we did round two and let them all have another turn. Still not even a tiny rip. At this point the kids became candy crazed. They proceeded to surround Sponge Bob and ripped him limb from limb. After all of his appendages were gone they tore open his square pants and the candy was released. It was a little scary. And one arm and one leg are still unaccounted for.


Sponge Bob dismembered