Today I became a lesbian

As I lay in my bed last evening, curled in a ball and silently crying I began thinking about what is missing in my life. Since Sunday evening I have been sick as fuck--fevers, congestion, headaches, and severe back and body aches--and in terrible need of some TLC. But when God was handing out compassion, the men in my life must have been in the line to get their black, black hearts. Is there anyone to mother the mother? I have found that there is not as I lay suffering in this house of testosterone and tears. So today I decided that what I am missing is a good woman. A woman who loves me and will take care of me. My mom used to take good care of me but ever since I had kids of my own she hasn't been as sympathetic. Also she is a germaphobe. When I am sick it's never, "Oh poor baby" now it is "Don't give it to me!" Damn, old people are selfish! So I find that to get what I really need I will have to go gay.


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!

A Marked Man

Shepard happily ran up to me and said, "Look, Sage drew on me!!" Along with a yellow star on his forehead, red dots on his eyelids, and various stick figures on his arms, I found that Sage had marked his back too. Shepard seemed so proud and Sage was so pleased with his work. So let's see the close up of that...

The Joan Crawford Motherhood Award goes to...

I locked Shepard in the car yesterday. I blame healthy eating. Here's how it happened.

I pull into my driveway with Shepard asleep in his car seat. I'm on the way to pick Sage up at school and then drop the boys at my parents house before I have to dash off to work and arrive by 3 pm. I had stopped at the house to run in and grab my healthy dinner from the fridge. Since Shepard was asleep I leave him in the air conditioned car with the motor running. However, it wasn't until I shut my car door and hear the click of doom that I remember my car doors automatically lock when the car is running.

I didn't panic because just recently Shepard has learned to unhook himself from the car seat. So I decide to get my dinner and then wake Shepard up so he can unlock the car door for me. I stroll out of the house with my Darth Vadar lunch box tucked under my arm, confidently walk up to the car window and start knocking and calling Shepard's name. The boy doesn't budge.

Knocking louder now, starting to yell, "Shepard, wake up, honey!"

Nothing, not even a twitch.

Screaming now, kicking the door, pounding on the window, "SHEPARD, wake up right now! Mommy wants you to WAKE UP! ICE CREAM--do you want some yummy ice cream? Mmmmmm, I'm going to eat your ice cream! SHEEEEEEPAAAAARD!"

This boy is Rip Van Winkle. I am now in full panic. I call Alan for help--he has a key to my car. He has to explain what happened to his boss and leave work. Then he calls the school to tell them why I will be late picking up Sage. I call work and tell them I will be late because I locked my child in the car--"You locked your WHAT in the car?" Finally, I call my Mother and explain why the boys will be late arriving to her house.

My Mom, "Oh my God, do you think he will asphyxiate?!"

Me, "No Mother, don't be ridiculous, he won't asphyxiate! I've got to go, bye."

Thinking "OH MY GOD, HE'S GOING TO ASPHYXIATE!!" I start frantically banging on the car door again. Some neighborhood kids see my insane plight and come over to help. The four of us start pounding on the window together and calling his name until he finally wakes up. After a minute of groggy fumbling, he unhooks himself and unlocks the car. And the people rejoice.

So here we have another terrible side effect of lean meats and green veggies. In other news, this past weekend I cleaned out my closet and threw away all wire hangers. So that cancels out locking my child in the car, right?

My lap is on FIRE!!

I am driving along today in my ultra cool Oldsmobile station wagon, when I happen to notice wisps of smoke in front of my face. At first I dismissed it as a trick of my mind or maybe another thing that happens when you get old, you know--dry eyes, floating spots in my peripheral vision, and now I am seeing wisps of smoke. But it kept happening more frequently so I decided that either my crotch was on fire or I had some kind of electrical short in my steering column. Now I admit that my crotch is smoking hot--especially since the self-waxing job has grown out--but I am pretty sure it is coming from the car.

I called Alan who called our mechanic, Harvey. Alan then called me back and said that yes, it was probably an electrical short and it is probably fine to drive until tomorrow when they can get to it. However, Alan continues, if flames start shooting out of the steering column, I should pull over and stop driving the car. I am so thankful that I have men to give me such good advice, but they need not worry. If I am going to burn up in a car it is not going to be in an Oldsmobile station wagon going a law-abiding 45 mph, listening to talk radio while I am dropping my son off at art class. If I burn up in a car it will be while I am going 110 mph in a black and silver Lamborghini wearing a thong bikini, listening to Slayer and running from the police. Just saying.

I pity the April Fool!!

I was thinking about my most embarrassing moments today and I realized that all of them have been brought about by my sons. I think it is so funny how people (most who don't have kids) will judge your ability as a parent by how your kids act. You can drill manners and good behaviour into their little pea brains 24/7 but they are still going to act how they want to act. I have always said that having kids is like having Tourette's syndrome. My kids are like an extension of my own body but I have no control over what they do or what they scream out. It's very disconcerting.

Only two incidents come to mind with Shepard. When he was potty training he had a habit of wanting to visit every bathroom in every place we went to, even if he didn't have to go. So one night we were at a restaurant, about to order and Shepard tells me " I have to go potty, Mommy." I told him "Shepard, I will take you as soon as we order our food." So he stands up in the booth, grabs his crotch and starts repeatedly yelling, "OOOOOooooooooo, MY PENIS, MY PENIS!" He did manage to win himself a quick trip to the bathroom.

We were at the pharmacy counter waiting on the pharmacy tech to get our medicine. The man had a Mohawk hairdo, long sideburns, a beard that framed his chin, and an earring or two. Shepard looks up at him and says to me (loud enough for him and the lady behind me to hear), "Mama, he's crazy?" I was stunned for a moment but the guy was standing right in front of me so all I could do is say, "No, honey, he's not crazy." Fortunately, the tech had a very good sense of humor about it and even made a little face and booga-boogad Shepard as we were leaving. Whew!

Now Sage is older and has had over seven years to embarrass his mommy. He started as early as 14 months. He was happily sitting in the cart as I was paying for my purchase at Target. As I finished paying I turned toward the cart to go and found him chewing on a tampon he had pulled from my purse.

Probably the most infamous embarrassment for me was last spring when I was shopping for some pants. First a little background. I am not fond of underwear. It's just never fit me right and goes straight up my butt causing constant pickage. So, a few years back I gave it up and now I am a commando chick, except when I go to work or am shopping for new clothes.

In this instant I was trying to find a pair of pants and had to bring Sage with me in the filled to capacity dressing room. I gave him some books, put him in the corner of my area and started to try on pants. All of a sudden Sage pipes up and exclaims, in an incredulous voice, "Mommy, your wearing underwear?!!" "Yes, Sage" I said in my whisper through my teeth voice which is meant to convey that I want him to be quiet. Yet he proceeds, "I didn't know you HAD any!" My cheeks were burning even though the other shoppers couldn't see me. I quickly made my exit with my head down.

So stay tuned, they are still young, I am sure there will be many more to come.