Conversations With Shaggy

My office Christmas party was Friday afternoon and everyone was in a fantabulous mood after the juicy Christmas bonuses. We had a blast and since Hubby was out of town, I took Shaggy with me. I think by 9 AM at my office he was starting to regret the decision to spend the day with Momma after he got to hear some of these gems:

After eating CrapDonald's last night I have a lubed anus.

Holy crap, I think I just pooped an anaconda.

Then, while bowling, there was this little pearl:

Me: Boy, you better behave before I have to beat you.

Shaggy: You can't hurt me. I'm bigger than you.

Me: Yeah, well you came out of my vagina.

Shaggy: Speechless Disgust

Then, there is this classic exchange between me and one of the guys I work with:

Me: J whatcha doin'?

Him: Nuttin

Both: collapse into heaps of juvenile giggles

As we were driving home, Shaggy said to me, "Boy, I knew you guys were bad at work but I had no idea." To which, I gave him a knowing look and replied, "You still have no idea - that was us behaving."

If that child ever leaves me alone with his children (please, Lord, wait about 20 years), it will be a minor miracle and I can imagine that prior to coming to Grandma's house he will warn them not to listen to a thing I say.

As a side note, I contributed a small chunk of my Christmas bonus contributing to Ashley's preschool fund in an attempt to bring the groove back. Stay tuned for updates!!!

We Wish You....

a very Merry Christmas. From the nuthouse to you and all of yours. In light of the Holiday Season, here are some things I've learned:

1. Me and serious posts do not mix. I can talk about an inability to poo, sex, masturbation, and my coffee cake ad nauseum and get some decent comments. However, the times I attempt to post something serious, I think it scares people. I think they attempt to find the humor in it (since apparently that's what I'm best known for - and a rather juvenile humor at that) and when they can't, its like they didn't get the joke so its better to say nothing.

2. The 40 Year Old Virgin is - THE. BEST. MOVIE. E.V.E.R.! I laughed hysterically at it but is that really any surprise? Dude, you look like a man-o-latern. I totally want to wax Hubby now just so I can use that line.

3. I'm both dreading and anticipating tomorrow. I LOOOOOVE Christmas. To me, there is nothing like seeing your children's eyes light up as they open their gifts. However, I'll be short a child (and a Hubby)tomorrow since Abbado and her father are currently in Pennsylvania. So far, I've managed to hold it together and shed no tears but I'm missing them both terribly.

4. Me and Cosmopolitans - not a good combo. I'm a total lightweight when it comes to booze and after one Cosmo, I'm feeling FIIIIINE - after 2, my lips are as numb as a trip to dentist. Not to mention the fact that I'm sleepy. Yeah, Santa's coming early this year Kiddos, how does an 8:00 bedtime sound?

5. My husband is a brave brave man to leave me the check book when he travels. I've managed to drop almost $300 at Tarjay the last few days and ummm yeah, all our shopping was done.

6. Little ole 5'1.5" me has to wrangle a weight bench that weighs approximately 500 lbs from my bed room to the living room tonight and attempt to wrap it. Since I've also imbibed 2 (and counting) Cosmos this evening - it may end up unwrapped and halfway down the hallway. Did I also mention the 100 lb weight set??? What the fuck was I thinking????

7. Hubby and I didn't write any letters and I can't be mad at him because I sure as shit didn't do mine....so as I sit here slightly buzzed I'm thinking of shopping at an adult website for some more "personal" items. (Don't worry, Ashley, I'm planning on contributing to the preschool fund. I just hope I can find that body butter shit...you know, the stuff that tastes like frosting??) However, I do need to remember that the check book balance is dwindling and not to buy everything I see.

8. Did I mention the numb lips and its only 7:49? Its going to be a long night....these little bastards darlings better not think they are getting up at dark o'fucking clock tomorrow. They are too old for that shit.

So, from my family to yours - warmest wishes for a safe, joyous, and happy Holiday season!

Pay It Forward

This time of year often leads to a lot of self reflection for me. The time to reflect on what I can/did do to make a difference in the world. Have I touched someone's life and made it a little bit better for doing so? Will there be people that remember one random act of kindness I did and will it inspire them to do the same?

I am a blessed person. I have a wonderful family and a wonderful life. Sure, money's tight but in non monetary ways, my life is so rich. I have such special and treasured memories of my childhood. Memories that have sustained me through the rough times. Memories that I have in my mind and heart that I can take out and view whenever the going gets rough. I have a life filled with love. I feel it all around me in all the people I interact with.

There was one Christmas that always sticks out in my mind as my first instance of paying it forward. We had driven from New Hampshire to Rhode Island to celebrate Christmas with my huge family. As we were preparing to head home, we stopped at a small diner to have some desert. While we sat at our table, drinking our mugs of hot chocolate, and basking in the glow of a wonderful Christmas filled with love, family, and of course, presents, a grizzled old man came in. Heads turned to stare at him as he made his way to a table and sat down alone. I don't remember if he appeared homeless but he definitely appeared dejected and lonely on what should be a day filled with joy and happiness. He was unkempt and had a strange rash on his face. Patrons were staring at him as he slowly gripped his lone mug of coffee in both hands and kept his head down. I was staring too but not in disgust but in sadness. I remember thinking that noone would acknowledge this man because he was dirty. He was sullying up their Christmas night. As my family finished up and my parents were paying the bill, I walked over to this man and when he looked up at me, I told him I just wanted to wish him a Merry Christmas. His eyes shimmered with tears and his face lit up in a huge smile. Other patrons looked ashamed. He grabbed my hand and held it in both of his and wished me a Merry Christmas back. In his grip, I felt all the gratitude his face was showing that someone would acknowledge him, that someone would take the time to brighten his holidays. As we left, my mom turned to me and with tears in her eyes told me she was proud of me.

That is the Christmas memory I examine most often. Taking the joy I have in my heart at this time of year and passing it along. So, every year as the holidays approach, I ask myself, have I lived up to that memory this year? Sadly, the answer is often no as life becomes busy. This year, I'm asking any of you who read, take the time the next time you see the person on the street that makes you want to cross and think in your head, "I'm so lucky I'm not them" and acknowledge them. Don't let the minutiae of life stop you from making a difference to someone who appears to be out of hope.

You see, this morning there was a press conference with one of the critically injured surviving victims of our mall shooting. He talked about wanting to be a better person going forward. He talked with eloquence about the victims. It made me think of that memory. It made me wonder how people would remember me if I was gone. It made me want to be a better person.

I've been debating on writing this post for the last couple of weeks. The words wouldn't come out the way I wanted them until after that press conference so, even though its early - I send all of you who read the warmest and joyous Holiday wishes from our family to yours. Hopefully, through these writings, I've managed to touch your lives in the ways that those who's blogs I read, touch mine and inspire me. I promise to now step off my soap box and return back to your regularly scheduled juvenile humor.

For the Love of God

You'd think with my total lack of posting that I'd been busy or something. I have been busy but not so busy that I couldn't take a few minutes to sit down and post. Yep, you guessed it - a total combination of sheer laziness and lack of material. I just can't seem to convince the older midgies to stay home and do something blog worthy. What good are they if I can't get some material out of them??? They're not even good slaves these days and I just can't convince the baby that the dishes belong in the cabinets and not all over the floor. Damn lazy little shit. She needs baby boot camp or something to whip her into shape.

So, I know you are all dying with curiousity as to what I've been doing. Right? Just nod yes....you're going to get a post about it whether you want to know or not so don't fight the power.

We finished our Christmas shopping. The gifts for the stepkidlets are on their way to PA as we speak where they might actually beat Hubby and the baby there. That's right - for yet another year, Hubby and I aren't spending Christmas together. That makes 3 out of 4 Christmases in case I'm keeping track. This time, he's taking my baby. It sucks hairy monkey balls but what can I do? I'm sure a few tears will be shed between now and Christmas. Of course, with 5 kids to buy presents for, I came up with this totally brilliant idea for Hubby and I. Since baby came along, we've lost some of our mojo and in an effort to recapture the magic of the early days, I suggested we write each other letters to read Christmas morning. Now, I suggested this a month ago and I have yet to start mine. For any Friends fans out there, this will definitely be along the lines of the Monica and Chandler homemade Valentine gifts. Hubby leaves at dark o'clock on Friday morning which doesn't leave me much time. I'm thinking I should just order him some "toys" suggested on Ashley's blog which would totally make him forget that I didn't write the damn letter I suggested and would probably go a long way to bringing back the mojo. What does everyone else do to keep the romance alive when you have little kids???

Two weekends ago, we got to spend 4 hours in the Emergency Room with the baby. Turns out she has pneumonia (I have no clue if I spelled it right and since the spell check works for shit on the Safari browser, its staying that way). That was a lovely scare since they almost admitted her but she's all better now and back to being a total pain in the ass. I tell you what, I know my older kids are way older but this is one little verbal demon spawn. She's 15 months old and can say quite a few things - nana (banana), daddy, no, stop, bye, hi, gank gu (thank you), pee (please), keddy (kelly), nini (night night) etc but she will NOT say Mom, Momma, Mommy. Little snot.

I have not mailed out ONE Christmas card. I'm totally on board for Ashley's idea of moving Christmas back.

However, I did manage to find a dress for my sister's wedding. I will post pictures from the big day so you can see it. Now, I just need a new purse, shoes, hairdo, and manicure and I'm set! I don't know what the hell possessed my sister to plan her wedding for January 5th but she's crazy. We have Christmas, a family get together on the 31st and one on the 4th. I'm so excited for her and honored that she asked me to be her witness. This wedding is a totally non traditional shindig. My sister is anti-religious so no church wedding and she's having her best friend from Junior High marry her. So, we have an Irish bride, a Chilean groom, a lesbian minister, a jailbird brother (yep, he's out and free in time for the hols), the trailer trash sister (that'd be me with all the kids and baby daddy :D), a lesbian sister in law and her partner who are crazy (groom's sister), a multitude of other people - it ought to be one Hell of a party!

Just to prove I am in the holiday spirit - here is a picture of our "angel" with Santa.

Isn't she cute!!!!! Gotta say I sure do bake some cute kidlets.

Braces and Harvard

I don't know if I've mentioned but Kell needs braces. We, in the Casa de Crazy, like to employ the procrastination method of dealing with large expenses. We basically put it off until we have no choice to spend the money and then panic about how we are going to pay for it. So, I need to get her in for a consultation to find out if selling the baby will suffice to pay for this or if I should start whoring myself out as well. I'm guesstimating about $2500 to fix her mouth.

We know there is no rush to get the metal mouth outfitted so I was trying to plan for a time that would be a school vacation since I've been told she's gonna be hurting. And with it being Kelly, I'm sure the pain is going to be on a nuclear level instead of some mild discomfort since she's been known to blow things out of proportion (Have I mentioned these 2 words: Drama and Queen). I was thinking Spring Break and was then informed that it interfered with her 13th birthday. So, it was finally decided that we'd do it this summer - probably after our Hellcation (yeah, you drive 20 hrs in a car with at least 3 kids and try telling me its not Hellcation). Good. Settled.

So, the other night she mentioned something about college. To which I fell into hysterics. I then gently informed said child that there was no way in hell we were paying for college. I told her that when we have to pay out a large sum of money to fix her teeth that she was on her own. Her response: "Awww but Harvard's expensive". There might have been more but I was simultaneously curled in the fetal position and laughing like a hyena! Harvard my ass!

Once the hysterics subsided, I advised her that she better graduate valedictorian then to earn herself a scholarship otherwise I was going to start teaching her the University of Nebraska at Omaha's fight song!

The Outlaw In Me

Since I've been asked by a couple of people to share this story I will. The last few days have been a bad time to be a Nebraskan with the mall tragedy so I will do my best to lighten things up with a story of my antics told in my normal juvenille fashion.

I may have mentioned that I settled into some dark times after my divorce. Dark Emotionally. Dark Financially. You see, the Ex left to move back to England in Nov of 2000 once our divorce was final. Not only did he skip out on his financial obligations to his kids, I got to be the one to tell them that Daddy moved. Yeah, that was a happy happy day. So, here I was, 28 years old with 2 kids and NO child support. Zip. Nada. Nil. To say that my paycheck was having difficulties stretching to cover all the bills and feed us is an understatement. I was juggling my finances and something was sure to fall.

However, during all that, it was important to me that the kids weren't totally aware of what kind of financial mess we were in. Keeping their schedule and trying to add in some treats once in a while was very important to me. So, one warm summer night, I decide that Shaggy and I need Blizzards. Off we go. On the way back, I was driving slightly over the speed limit. Ok so it was more than slightly but in my defense, I didn't realize that the speed limit had dropped from 45 to 35mph (not even 20' down the road) and I was going 53. So our asshole friendly neighborhood policeman gave me a whopping $100 ticket.

Now, here is where the story gets interesting and I get ashamed. I didn't have the money to pay the ticket but instead of going to court and pleading my case, I ignored it thinking I'll pay it as soon as I have some extra money. Months passed. Still no extra money (ie: child support) and I get a letter in the mail saying if I didn't pay it, my license would be suspended. Again, I chose the ostrich method of dealing with this.

Then, I'm on my way home after picking up the girl child from daycare. She had had a field trip that day to someplace and had a wonderful new toy - a Whoopee Cushion - and was driving me crazy. I turn down my street and see a Sheriff's car in my driveway. Thinking to myself - oh shit, now what? I decide I'll drive past the house, turn around and come back and he'll be gone. One. Small. Problem. Shaggy is out front talking to him and as I start to drive by, shaking my head vigorously so he won't say anything, I see his little arm go up and then a finger come out. Pointing right at me. I see his mouth moving. I see the Sheriff's head swivel. What do I do? I keep driving. Desperate to get to a street where I can turn and hide. The whole time, Kelly's happily farting away with her Whoopee Cushion. I turn the corner, glance in the rearview, and see the Sheriff's car in hot pursuit. I see the lights go on and I know I'm busted.

So, the end result of the story is, the Sheriff was at my house to confiscate my license which had been suspended for non payment. If I had pulled in the driveway, he would have taken it and not busted me for driving on a suspended license. My $100 speeding ticket turned into:

$100 speeding ticket
$100 tow and impound charges
$50 license reinstatement fee
$50 driving on a suspended license charge
Humiliation of Explaining to the Sheriff of why I ran while daughter farts away on Whoopee Cushion - PRICELESS!

No Words

Tonight, there are no words to describe how it feels to have a tragedy in your world. Before 2 pm today, a suicidal teenager entered a mall in Omaha and opened fire. Current reports are 9 dead (including the teen) and 5 injured (2 critically). Complete coverage on CNN and MSNBC.

My thoughts and prayers to all affected by this horrific act.

Why Some People Shouldn't Breed...

I was watching a documentary on MSNBC last night about runaways. Yeah, I'm a dork like that - its one of my favorite channels. Anyway, back to runaways. While watching it, I heard the saddest and yet, funniest line ever!

There was a kid featured named Josh who is 17. He was thrown in jail for carrying around homemade num chucks that his Mom made. Ok, stop there and ponder these thoughts:

1. What kind of mother gives their child a lethal weapon?
2. What kind of mother thinks to make said lethal weapon?

Back with me now? The story gets better....

So, the num chuck makin' momma calls street boy's girlfriend to say she's coming down to see her son because she feels bad that he got arrested for carrying around her "gift". After num chuck makin' momma and street boy are reunited, they have this conversation:

Son: Do you want to see our tent?

Num Chuck Makin' Momma: Sure but first we stop for alcohol and cigarettes.

Now, that was disturbing enough. Perhaps she's forgotten that her son is, I don't know, 17 and not of legal age to drink. Then she says this beauty:

"Today, I think I'm going to hang out with my son and see what life on the streets is like. You know, be involved."

I swear to God and all things holy, I was howling with laughter at that line. Yes, you read it right, that was her idea of being involved in her son's life.

For the record, I have absolutely no idea how to spell Num Chuck - is it like that or is it Numbchuck? Two words? One Word?

Name Game

Since I whined and bitched asked so nicely, Sasha tagged me for the latest MeMe:

1. Witness Protection Name (mother's and father's middle names): X Joseph - no my mom's middle name isn't X, she doesn't have one. Besides, how cool would the name X be???

2. NASCAR Name (first name of your mother's dad and father's dad): Edwin James - that just totally doesn't sound neck enough to me.

3. Star Wars Name (first three letters of your last name, two of your first): JarKa

4. Detective Name (favorite color, favorite animal): Green Gorrilla

5. Soap Opera Name (middle name, city where you were born): Marie Pawtucket

6. Superhero Name (2nd favorite color, favorite drink, add "the" to the beginning): The Purple Wine - didn't Prince have a song like that?? Oh wait, that was Purple Rain.

7. Fly Girl/Guy Name (1st two letters of your first name, last two of your last): Cael - now that totally sounds like it should be my Neck name....

8. Gangsta Name (favorite ice cream flavor, favorite cookie): Coffee Oatmeal Scotchie - yeah, I'm gonna sound real Gansta with that name. Watch out before I sweeten you to death.

9. Rock Star Name (first pet's name, childhood street name): Valentine Central - rock star name??? Not so much - how about porn name?

10. Stripper Name (favorite perfume/cologne, favorite candy): Beautiful Almond Joy

Now, I tag anyone who wants to do this. Just, if you do it, drop me a comment and let me know so I can laugh at your names too! (No that wasn't another shameless plug for comments....yeah, ok it was!)

Mai Tai's, Sake Bombs, and Beer - Oh My

Due to the nasty ice storm we were expecting here in the midwest this Saturday, the trip to Kansas City was cancelled. In lieu of KC, we decided have our dignified girl get together here in town.

You see, my sister is one of those horribly accomplished people you just hate. It appears that everything she touches turns to gold. She has a bachelor's degree and two master's. I'm lucky I have my high school diploma. She is a true intellectual who writes well and teaches college English. To date, I still have not told her I have a blog because (A) I know that my writing is no where near her level and (B) there are just some things sister's shouldn't know about each other! So, I was expecting a quiet night with the girls. I figured it would consist of dinner with some nice wine that I couldn't pronounce nor afford and some dignified conversation. To be honest, I was dreading it. I kept picturing the episode of Friends where Joey bought the "V" encyclopedia so he could converse with the group.

Except - it wasn't. It wasn't dignified. It wasn't filled with wine. It wasn't intellectual. It was a true gutter girls party and I LOVED it.

We met at a Sushi place which was great except I don't eat fish but whatever. I got there before anyone and settled at the bar for some harmless flirting conversation with the very cute bartender. I was nursing my Mai Tai (the drink special of the night) figuring I'd switch to Coke or water at dinner since I had to drive. All of a sudden, this loud, noisy, obnoxious group of girls walked in. You guessed it - my party! They were all a bit toasty after spending the whole afternoon at the bar. I do believe the first words my sister whispered to me were, "I'm wasted". Ahhhh, people on my level.

After much discussion, it was determined that I was joining this party and leaving my car (read: Hubby's car) at the restaurant and I was their captive for the night. We settled at the table were rounds of Sake Bombs were passed (like a Boilermaker except with beer and Sake). Every time I turned around, there was a new Mai Tai in front of me. Although, I have sneaking suspicions that my beloved sister was drinking them. Many a toast were made and a few tears were shed (mostly mine). Did you know that they don't have silverware at these places? You are expected to eat with chopsticks. Yeah, so not happening, especially when one fell on the floor. Like the Mai Tai's, I think my sister ate most of my nicely cooked beef (no fish for me, thankyouverymuch, raw or otherwise).

We left the restaurant much poorer, way drunker, and a lot rowdier than we entered. Then it was time to go back to the bar. We all piled into one car. There was the driver and the bride up front and four of us (yes, FOUR) and one blow up doll in the back. How we didn't get pulled over going down the interstate I'll never know. We spent a lot of time in the back of that car molesting the poor blow up doll and making cracks about her anatonomy.

Finally we arrived at our destination. A lovely little bar called Chicks. Did I mention it was a gay bar? No? An oversight, I swear. I don't know whether to be relieved or insulted that NOT ONE lesbian hit on me. Not one. I must exude that "straight" vibe.

So, the night was a huge success and my sister's friends were all great. One offered to be my girlfriend for the night and I gotta say she was pretty freaking hot. They were all very concerned about whether or not I was having a good time and made sure my glass stayed full. Now, we are all ready for the wedding and I couldn't be happier for my baby sister. She's an amazing person who has been there for me through the good times and the really dark days. She deserves every happiness in the world and her fiance is a great guy. However, I did warn him that if he hurts her I will have to make a eunuch out of him.

I'm Screwed

Apparently whomever was reading from "The Pentagon" must have referred my blog over to the US Department of Justice. According to my trusty sitemeter, someone from there has been reading. Was it the stealing? Is it because strange people find my blog through weird google searches? Either way, I'm toast. Dark brown, burnt and crispy.

Therefore, I must say the following things to some strange folks out there:

1. To the person who did a google search with these search words "butthole itches and can't poo": I feel your pain. I really and truly do. There is NOTHING worse than an itchy starfish. I recommend a laxative. Once you poo, it usually takes care of the itchy starfish.

2. To the person who did a google search with these search words "mama and boy sex": OH. MY. FUCKING. GOD. How in the name of all things holy did that search lead you to me? You are perverted and sick and perverted and just wrong. Did I mention perverted? Stay. AWAY!

Now, moving on:

Dear Dept of Justice reader,

I promise you that I will make every effort to stop with the kleptomania. It is a sickness and Hubby is trying to stop me. I will attend 12 steps. I will manacle my hands. Whatever it takes. Please do not arrest me.

I promise that I have returned my summons to Federal Jury Duty. I plan on calling next week to check my juror status. If called apon, I will serve. I promise to not blog about it until after the case. Please do not arrest me.

I promise that I have never EVER written anything about child porn. The only references to sex and my children have been in how to scar my oldest to prevent him from having sex. I'm trying to do my part to keep down teenage pregnancy. I'm preaching abstinence (even if I'm not practicing it). Please please do not arrest me.

Sincerely,

Kate


Disclaimer: this post is intended to be very tongue in cheek. It is in no way an admission of guilt on my part for any past or future actions. Except for the part of the pervo that is suffering Oedipus Complex. He really needs to stay away. If the DOJ reader was just cruising by, I hope they like what they read!

Today Is NOT My Day

Ever had one of those days? Of course you have. One of those days where you almost hope you can be like Bill Murray in Groundhog Day and go back and start over. That's me - Today.

I'm off to Kansas City this weekend for a girls night out. Its more of a quasi bachelorette party for my sister but without the male strippers. Hopefully, there will be wine. All week the weather people have been predicting ugly weather. When does it start? Friday night. When do I leave? Saturday afternoon. Good times.

I'm also supposed to go to the dentist on Saturday. Have I mentioned that I have a deathly fear of the dentist? No? Yeah - its that bad. White face, cold sweat, swirly stomach, the whole nine yards. On the bright side (for the dentist anyway) my mouth is probably going to cost enough to send one of his kids through college. I wonder if dentures are cheaper?

How on earth does all that above tie into having one of those days? Well, let me tell you. I would normally decorate my tree this weekend. Since I'm not going to be there, I've been scrambling to get it done the last couple of days. However, every year, I have a tree disaster. There was the year I checked all my lights and they all worked so I put them on the tree. Only to find out the middle third of the tree wouldn't light up. Then the next year I got all prepared to do the tree to open the box and discover I was out of lights since I had thrown out the bastarding things the year before when they didn't work. I always seem to run one strand short too. Something that is always discovered when I'm at the bottom of the tree. Which usually involves an emergency trip to Target. At which time I always end up buying 2 sets *just to be safe* to discover I've bought a set with white wire. Getting the picture?

So, this year, in anticipation, I prepurchased 2 extra sets of lights. I double checked to make sure they were green wire. Check and Check. I was in good shape. I put all 10 strands (Yes - 10) on the tree and everything was great. Until I told Shaggy to get the garland. Ahhhhh Christmas disaster strikes. I had thrown out the garland. So, tonight on the way home, I make another emergency trip to Target to get the garland. 4 things of it. Check and Check. I get hope and start putting the garland on the tree. Yep - not enough! I restrung that damn garland 4 times hoping I could make it stretch before realizing that 4 strings of it wasn't going to cover this tree all the way round. Next plan of attack? Pushing the tree back and just doing the front, ghetto fabulous style. I get under the tree preparing to push it back and realize I've wound the extra bit of lights around the tree so tighly, I cut the cord. Dammit - Christmas disaster!

After yet ANOTHER emergency trip to Target, to purchase and extra set of lights and more garland, that part of the tree is done and I now feel like the Grinch. Fucking Christmas Tree.

However, earlier in the day, I pulled a stunt that totally demonstrates my lack of common sense. I was attempting to call Hubby (who's cell ends with 53 and mine ends with 51). As the phone was ringing, I hear my cell phone start buzzing. I manage to grab it and see that it says work. Now, you might ask - why would work be calling if I was there? Well, its kind of a running joke since our resident Sybil likes to call from our shop because, and I quote, "I'm too lazy to get up and walk over to the office". So, we do it to each other because we all find ourselves incredibily amusing. I answer my cell phone and I get nothing. I double check, yep it says work and it was definitely a call. So, there I am standing there with a phone at each ear. I also realize I never heard Hubby answer so I hang up the land line phone and I'm still trying to figure out who the heck was calling me. Slowly, it dawns on me. You dumbass, you called yourself. Yeah - I'm the blondest redhead you'll ever meet. Of course, I started laughing like a hyena which brought Satan and our secretary running to find out what was so funny. So, now everyone knows what I did and I'm pretty sure its only a matter of time before they start calling me Corky again.

Like I said, Good times, Good times!

8 Random/Interesting Things About Moi

The goooooorgeous Sasha tagged me for this since I bitched whined so much about being left out of her last MeMe. So, she tags me and what do I do? Put it off for the last week. Yeah, I know, slacker. As a matter of fact, if I can stop slacking, I have a whole post about me slacking. Stay tuned. (You're on the edge of your seat right now, aren't you?)

I don't know if these will be interesting but they are certainly random:

1. I lived in England from 1984 to 1993. I attended Jr High and High School over there. I totally loved my time there and spent from 1991 to 1993 living as a Brit with my Brit husband (who is not my husband anymore and is more commonly referred to as that Ass or Sperm Donor or Stoopid Ugly DooDoo Head). While I lived there, I gave birth in a British hospital - not recommended and not a horror story I will share unless asked for. I don't want to scare any childless people.

2. My mom signed me up for ballet when I was 4 in the hopes I would gain some coordination and grace. It didn't help. I still walk into door frames and I sprained my ankle at work about 2 years ago by tripping on a handicap ramp. Yes, a handicap ramp.

3. Only 1 of my 3 children were conceived in wedlock and only 2 were born in wedlock. I have 3 children and 2 daddies. I love to shock people with this. I love to see them stutter for the appropriate response.

4. I have been called grandma twice while out shopping with Abby. Now, I know I'm not 20 but HELLOOOOO I don't think I look 50. The second time was by some wrinkled old raisin of a cashier at Target who could easily have been twice my age.

5. When we moved to England, I was 12 and I only had 1 book to read - 'Salems Lot by Stephen King. After reading this, I wouldn't sleep with a window open for 5 years and I used to check my sister's teeth at night to make sure she hadn't morphed into a vampire.

6. I once ran from the police. NOT. ONE. OF. MY. PROUDER. MOMENTS. BUT, I will say this, it is a damn funny story that again, I will share if asked.

7. I am terrible with money. If I have a dime in my pocket, I will find a way to spend it 100 times over. One of these days, Hubby's going to take away my debit card. I can't leave the house to pick up one thing and not spend $30 to $50. Often times, I do this even when we don't have $20 in the checking account. Its a disease.

8. I'm really intelligent but I have ZERO common sense. I can learn anything put in front of me but watching mystery shows on TV or reading a mystery novel, I'm ALWAYS surprised at the ending. I'm so not mechanically inclined either. I don't even know how to set my alarm clock. I have to have Hubby set it for me before he goes to Pennsylvania every time and then remind me how to turn it on. If the TV isn't work, I have to call Shaggy to the rescue. (Hey, have you SEEN those digital remotes??? You have to have a mechanical engineering degree to figure it out).

Now, I tag Tina and Deb and Mrs Whogas because they are the only people who's blogs I read regularly that haven't been tagged for this. Tina - because she's sweet and always does them. Deb - because she's just flat out interesting and I want to be her when I grow up. Mrs. Whogas - because she's like me.

PS - again, with the mechanically not inclined, I can't figure out how to do the link thingy on a Mac since I don't have one of those little buttons up there so I'll add the links when I get home.

PSS - I was just reading Tina's and she got tagged with one to list 7 things so she's off the hook but owes me ONE MORE!

Randomness

I've had a couple of comments asking about my previous post. I'm going to assume you really want to know if it will be over soon and break down the year according to our sports life at work:

August: NCAA order arrives and mad scramble ensues to get everything ordered, printed and packed for the shipping deadline. Also, preseason NBA (hello....we shipped all over Europe and China this year) and postseason WNBA (yes, apparently some people do care).

September: All colleges and conferences are back in session and with their bright and shiny new budgets with necessitate the need for press conference backdrops (the large banners you see, if your paying attention, behind the coaches and players and many many chairbacks (like a slipcover for the back of a folding chair)

October: Begin shipping the start of all the NCAA fall shipments and mad dashes to correct all their fuck ups - you'd think after 100 years they'd have some clue of what they need. Regular season NBA begins...more chairbacks and American flags and whatever else they can conjure up. This usually involves many teams contacting us for various items.

November: Preseason college basketball tournaments. You've already read enough about this but now hopefully if you watch any of it on TV, you'll have a new appreciation for what goes into it.

December: a mini lull due to the holidays...just enough to convince us that the past months really haven't been that bad. Printing begins on all the winter items for the NCAA

January: Repeat of NCAA for October plus they add in DI Basketball which is so huge it isn't considered part of their normal order. Order for NBA All Star (yes, I can get tickets)

February: Conference basketball tournaments. 'Nuff said.

March: Well, March Madness - again 'nuff said. Add to that the NIT and having to pull an all nighter, Madness accurately describes this month

April: NBA Playoffs. This usually involves having to airfreight something somewhere.

May: NBA Finals and start of WNBA season. Men's and Women's College World Series - yes, I do get to go to at least one CWS game.

June: small lull in which to catch your breath and feel like the day is dragging since you aren't running around like your ass is on fire.

July: WNBA All Star

So, as you can see, it doesn't really end - its just worse at times. Add into the sports mix all our regular customers and it makes life interesting. Have I mentioned that we've done some movies??? Blue Chips, Like Mike, After the Sunset, Eddie, Love and Basketball, etc.

At any rate, its been so busy I've lost my funny. I have it at work but by the time I have a chance to sit at the computer, my fingers just won't work. The only strength they have is to pick up the glass of wine I must drink to relax. Yes, MUST.

I do need some help though. I believe I've mentioned that I have a wedding coming up. My baby sister is getting married on January 5th and I'm her witness/best lady/matron of honor so I need a really nice outfit. I may have also mentioned that I've grown a coffee cake in my abdomen area and that my upper arms resemble turkey drumsticks (you know all round and fat at the top and skinny at the bottom???). So, my dilemma is, what the hell to wear? I want something nice that I can also wear again for when we have recovered enough from paycheck shortitis to go out. Sleeveless is out of the question. I don't want any wedding guests mistaking me for dinner. Oh yeah, forgot to throw into the mix that I'm 5'1.5" - so fat, short, and flabbyness abounds, and really big boobs - what a joy to shop for. All the suits I look at look too businessy (yes, that is a real word) and all the dresses are too long. Anyone have any suggestions??? Anyone? Bueller? Bueller?

My Life In Numbers....

The last month has been hell....H.E.L.L. I tell you. I know I've mentioned work is nuts (the people I work with) and we are busy as, well, H.E.L.L. Here are some numbers for you:

Number of Tournaments worked on: 13 (I think) they include the following
NIT
College Hoops Classic
ACC/Big Ten Challenge
CBE Classic
Maggie Dixon Classic
Aeropostale Holiday Festival
Aeropostale Holiday Classic
Legends Classic
Blue Ribbon Challenge
Pape Jam
Pape Slam
Men's Jimmy V
Women's Jimmy V

Yes, these are all college basketball tournaments. No, they have not all been played yet. Yes, they are all televised. Yes, half of them are played at Madison Square Garden. (Told ya I had a cool job)

Number of hours worked per week on average: 45

Number of mornings started at 6 am: 4 or 5

Number of evenings ended after 5 pm: see above

Number of dinners eaten with the family: 2

Number of times I've fallen asleep with a book on my face out of sheer exhaustion: 2

Number of bottles of Coke consumed for the quick caffeine rush: I think I just gave Ashley 34 Coke points

Number of days I haven't seen Abby at all: 2

Number of times all of us working together have snapped at each other: at least 3 times a day

Number of times we've all professed a huge hatred of college basketball: one kajillion

Number of times I've whined that my feet, legs, back, arms, and hair hurt: one kajillion plus one

Number of jury summons received to Federal Court: one

Number of times I've wondered if said summons is just a ploy to get me in a courthouse so I can be dutifully arrested for uncontrolled stealing: every 5.4 seconds

Number of times stolen bunny has been thrown to the end of the bed and broken ass bunny has been cuddled close: every night

Number of report cards with straight A's: 1 - way to go Kell

Number of weekends I've only had the baby in the house: easier to count the ones that all kids were in the house - ZERO

Number of nights I've stayed awake past 10:30: ZERO

The Shame of It All

I have topped myself. My kleptomania has reached new and extreme heights. I'm now hiding out in my house just waiting for the knock on the door from the coppers. I'm sure it will be any minute now....

It all started about 18 months ago when I was pregnant. I got this really cool bedding set from E-bay but alas, I couldn't find a mobile that would go with it. At our friendly neighborhood Target store, I found a bunny. A bunny that when you pulled the string coming out of his ass, played a sweet lullaby. After a few sleepless weeks months, I may have pulled bunny's ass too hard and ended his music playing days for good! I was very traumatized and I think on the verge of tears at the fact that I killed Bunny but it didn't seem to faze Abby. She still loved Bunny and wouldn't go to bed without it.


(yes, that is a glass of wine on the edge of the picture....after today, I deserve it!)

These days, Bunny is looking worse for wear. His nose is coming unsewn and he's had his fair share of spit up, smashed food, and snot rubbed into his fur. (Yes, I'm well aware that Bunny is pink and that I still refer to him as a he...maybe its a gay Bunny). Despite repeated washings, Bunny is showing his age. We've tried bribing Bunny away with other stuffed animals, like a Pooh and an Eyore, but to no avail. Until today....


Bunny's broken Ass.

While at The Hell on Earth Known as Wal-Mart, we found Bunny's little brother. A little more pink with a working ass. Abby saw it and started clapping and wouldn't relinquish New Bunny. Only one problem, she was eating the tag. I turned to Hubby and asked him if we were, in fact, buying New Bunny and he looked at those big blue eyes (Abby's not New Bunny's) and said he didn't think we'd get it away from her. So, I pulled off the tag in the name of child safety and store cleanliness (we were leaving a trail of chewed paper behind us). In my new efforts to stop stealing, I put the tag in my jacket pocket and told Hubby not to let me forget it was there. You see, I was afraid it would fall out of the cart.


New Bunny!


Complete with working Ass!


I'm sure you see where this is going. Yes, I totally forgot that the tag was in my pocket. Its all the fault of Hunts tomatoes. I had a dented can and Hubby knows what a freak I am about dented cans so like the wonderful husband he is, he ran back to exchange the can. That left me to watch Abby, put up the groceries, make sure I got my price matches, and forget all about the tag.


The dirty evidence.

As we are leaving the store, Hubby asks me if we paid for New Bunny. He starts to laugh as I turn ghost white and get a total look of panic in my eyes. As we are walking to the car, I'm lamenting over the fact that I, ONCE AGAIN, forgot to pay while Hubby's delighting in the fact that I saved us $10.94. I said something along the lines that he'd probably turn me in if the Wally Police came after me and he said that he'd be sure to tell them it wasn't the first thing. Then, laughingly, asked if I managed to pay for the Frappucino. Bastard.

Big Brother Is Reading???

You may or may not have guessed but I have severe issues. I feel the need to daily check my blog in anticipation of any comments that might have been left. I think it's a Freudian thing that goes back to a lack of love from my parents (at least that sounds better than I'm a desperate loser who needs online people to tell me I'm funny to feel fufilled, doesn't it?). I like to view that handy dandy little thing known as Sitemeter. Perhaps, I should stay in the dark.

Today when I looked, I saw a visitor from the Pentagon. Yes, THAT Pentagon. I just hope that they are reading for amusement and not because I've made some terror watch list with all the crap I spew (except from my ass, that's still not going well).

So, Dear Pentagon Reader -

I love the US. I'm not a terrorist. I don't beat my children often. I really do only steal by accident.

Please don't come get me.

Smooches -

Kate

PS - if it helps, I know the words to most of the military anthems.....

Inappropriateness Returns!

Let me preface this post by saying I have Stage Fright when attempting to poo. I can't go if I'm not home or if anyone is around. Seriously. Total stage fright. Seems weird, doesn't it? Someone who can talk about it, make jokes about it, can't do it! Unless I really gotta go...

So, this afternoon, I was suffering with an itchy starfish (translated: itchy butthole) and I thought maybe attempting to poo would help. So, I'm on the throne, concentrating, willing myself not to make any noise if I go because I didn't want anyone to hear it when I look at the wall and see a HUGE spider. I think it was a tarantula. Ok, maybe I'm exaggerating but it was big and ugly. Its just sitting there staring at me. Planning its strike. And I'm vulnerable. I come up with this brilliant idea to blow at it hoping it will go away from me. No...the little fucker starts coming at me. So, I start screaming. I grabbed some tissues and swiped it off the wall before it could drop into my undies. Then I couldn't find where the little bastard went. Picture this: I'm on the pot, pants and undies around ankles, kleenex littering the floor, me screaming, while attempting to find the spider.

SCORE!

He starts crawling toward me. Me, still screaming, stomped the fuck out of the little bastard. That will show him who is the Alpha Dog.

At the end of it all, I still had an itchy starfish and couldn't poo.

All You Need Is Love

A thought occurred to me today as we were out running errands. Ok, you got me, it was several thoughts. Shocker, right?

We took Shaggy out to purchase his class ring. It dawned on me then that he will graduate in 2009 and I graduated in 1990. Get it? 90 vs 09? Pretty sweet, huh? Yeah, yeah, I know you're still doing the math in your head...let me help you out. I was 19 when Shaggy was born. As a matter of fact, I spent my 19th birthday in HELL labor. Shaggy was born at 12:40 am on April 12th. That's right, he missed my birthday by 40 minutes. That's not exactly where I was going with this but a little useless background for you.

As I was helping him design his class ring I started thinking back. Remembering the young girl who thought the world was paved with gold streets and she'd be living the fairy tale. The girl who knew the world was at her feet. The girl who had her pick of colleges and chose motherhood instead.

Lest this sounds bitter and regretful, let me explain. Its neither. If I could go back and do it all again, there isn't much I'd change. But, it made me think. I've pretty much raised the older midgies on my own. Their father left when Shaggy was 9. There I was, 28 years old with 2 kids. How the holy hell was I going to manage. Financially, emotionally, physically. How? Why was I being punished? To say I was pissed off and more than slightly depressed is putting it mildly. I entered the black hole. There were many tears shed - theirs and mine. There was pressure, worrying, stress. There were definitely days I thought I can't do it anymore. Days I thought they'd be better off if I didn't do it anymore. These are days that are still difficult to talk about. I wasn't a good mother...I wasn't a good role model...I wasn't even a good person at times. Yet....they stuck with me. They showed me that my life was worth living.

Now, I'm definitely in a different place. I have a wonderful husband. I have myself back. More importantly, I still have the midgies. When I look at Shaggy, I just can't comprehend that my main role in his life is almost over. It is truly heartbreaking but also very rewarding. I've watched this young boy grow, evolve, mature into a wonderful man. As I watched him make his careful choices for his class ring - choices that were meant to tell others what he was about - I came to realize something. Yeah folks, no humor here, just some soul searching.

What I came to realize is that while we suffer from the same disease most of America does - paycheck shortitis, we are not poor. We are some of the richest people in the world. Our riches cannot be measured in dollars, cents, stocks, bonds, or belongings. They are only measured in the way that there is love and laughter throughout our house. They are measured in the ways that the midgies have healed and grown in spite of all the adversity. They are measured in our families. They are measure in the way that my husband still holds my hand. They are measured by the smiles on Abby's face when she sees any of us. They are measured by family, love, and a sense of peace and rightness in our world.

So, while we will never have the latest possessions, live in the nicest house, drive the best cars, I wouldn't trade a minute of it. I'll take my riches in love, thank you. When the times seem tough, when life is stressing you out, when you are wondering how to pay the bills or eat, look at those you love and remember what is important.

My Apologies....

I have to confess that I won't have much time to post the next couple of weeks. This is affectionately known as our busy time at work thanks to all the preseason basketball. Have I mentioned I hate basketball? No? What a lapse on my part.

I have the coolest job on the planet. I work for a small screen print company in Corn Land, Nebraska (wait, before you consult your google map, I made that name up due to the fact that most people think Nebraska = Corn and nothing else) Ok, back from google? Good. Where was I? Oh yes, my job.

I don't actually have a job title so for lack of nothing better to call myself, I'm like a quasi office manager (now, Satan, I know you're reading, don't freak out...I know that I'm really a Bitch of All Things). So anyway, I do all the sales, graphics, and generally whatever else needs to be done. Why is this job so cool?? Well, in case I've neglected to mention - we do all the work for the NCAA and NBA. That's right - I actually have contacts with the NBA and a lot of the teams. I've been offered tours, tickets, swag, etc. One customer at the Nets actually offered me tickets to a game when the Nets were playing the Celtics. How freaking cool is that?

I've had all my sports teams call - I've done work for the Celtics and the Sox and also had some conversations with the Pats. My hubby is in 2nd Heaven because one of my customers is the Philadelphia Eagles - they offered me a grand tour of the place knowing Hubby is a fan. That's right, it pays to be married to me!

We also do all the basketball tournament - conference and otherwise. All. Of. Them. So, consequently from now until April, I'll be working my ass off. Unfortunatley, I do this every year but my damn ass insists on coming back and fiding me and bringing family.

The point? I've been crazy busy and have neglected to post. So, to those of you who read and are wondering if I've dropped off the face of the earth, the answer is no but I've been so freaking busy at work I'm like a one armed Irish man with 2 beers.

I do have things to talk about - report cards, parents night at dance, pictures of Halloween, and some crazy name game courtesy of Deb that I feel compelled to do and pass the enjoyment along to others. If I can make it through next week without talking gibberish and drooling, I promise to update you all.

Love and Kisses!!!

PS - forgive the lack of comments from the original Comment Whore but I have been reading and commenting in my brain...

Crapplebees

Dear Waitress At Crapplebees,

When I tell you there is a hair in my dip, please do not EVER ask if I want you to take the plate away. I don't know what you do in your house, but when I'm paying for a meal, I don't want the "added" flavor of an unknown hair of unknown origin.

Secondly, when we walk in carrying a baby, shouldn't it go without saying that we need a high chair? What exactly did you think we were going to do with her?

Thirdly, when the said baby is sitting in the high chair at the end of the table, you don't put hot plates 2" from her. Babies grab everything. Unless you are the Scarecrow from the Wizard of Oz, use your brain. Especially don't put a damn steak knife in her reach unless you like to be stabbed with it.

Thank you very much.

Sincerely,

The Kate Family

More Rambling

I was just looking back over my sitemeter results and saw a few things worth mentioning:

To the visitor from LA - more specifically Fox.com - yes, I would be interested in selling you my material for a small premium! :D

To the visitor from Coke - yes, I would love a lifetime supply of your product. I truly do only drink Coke and I would be willing to mention Coke at least once in every post. Have a Coke and a Smile!

To the visitor from Miller Brewing Company - sure send it along with the Coke. I can mention a Miller Lite at least once in every post. Miller - its the cure for what the kids do to you!

To the visitor who googled "Big Turd" and found me - I don't even want to know why on God's green earth you were googling that but thanks for reading!

Disclaimer - these are all very tongue in cheek but yet, still my offer stands to accept your products! Happy reading!

Yeahhhhh Baby!

In what I promise to be my last Red Sox post (at least until Spring Training in March), I want to stand on my roof and shout, "The Red Sox are my Daddies" (using Pedro Martinez's famous line - except his had the Yankees in place of the Sox because he couldn't figure out how to beat them). I want to run around my yard until the men in little white coats come for me. I want to do Pap's jig with him. More than anything, I wish I could be in Boston tomorrow for the parade. So, Huge Congrats to my beloved Sox. You've made a die hard fan very very happy. For you Rockie fans - take heart. Your team is good - damn good. And young. They will be back in the World Series!

On another note, I want to say that I'm really sick and tired of the sour grapes I'm hearing about New England sports teams. The Pats are running up the scores...The Sox are just like the Yankees. What a crock of shit. First off, if the Pats are running up the scores, shouldn't it be the OTHER teams responsibility to stop them? Wow, there's a novel idea. I guess when they're up by 3 TD's they should just roll over and play dead. Where's the sportsmanship in that? As far as the Sox being like the Yankees - this comment almost makes my head explode. C'mon sports fans, the Sox have won 2 World Series since 2004. Before that - 86 fucking years. There was a segment on Sports Center last night that showed the Yankers have 19 Series. The Sox - a measely 7. Five of those seven were prior to 1918. We Sox fans certainly can't help that, in spite of attempts, the Yankers haven't been able to buy a Championship since 2000.

Ok - that felt good.

I have also been debating over the tone of my posts. You see, I know there are people reading but my comments don't reflect this (yes, I'm a comment whore). I've wondered if I "scare" people off. Then I realized that I am my blog. This is exactly how I talk and think. I am an oversharer. I am crude. I am blunt. So, I've decided that I started this blog for me and I shouldn't change who I am. For those of you who do read and laugh - great...I'm glad you "get" me. Please keep reading. For those of you who read and comment (I can always count on my Sasha for a comment!!), thanks for letting me know you "get" me. Like most bloggers, I do love the comments. Hey, I'm even open to suggestions on what you'd like to read. I'm one of those people who knows a little about a lot of things and has an opinion on all of them!

Now, if I could just get all the kids to stay home, I might actually have a chance at some material. Damn little midgies keep running away on the weekends and all I'm left with is Abby. She's cute and all but she just doesn't say much to entertain me yet! If work would just slow down, I'd have more time for posting. Geeze these people actually expect me to earn my paycheck!

Dreams

I have two dream vacations. I want to go to Disneyland and Fenway Park. (And here you thought you were going to get a post without mention of the Sox!!)


Disneyland. Its been a place I've wanted to for years. Without kids. Yes, I am an evil mother. I want to go with just Hubby and I. I want to skip down Main Street. I want to wear Mickey ears. I want to have my picture taken with Mickey, Minnie, Goofy, and Pluto. I want to have a Princess breakfast and wear a tiara with Cinderella. I want to ride "Its a Small World" and sing through the whole ride. Basically, I want to do all the kids things even though I'm an adult. I don't care if I'm 50 years old (which at the rate we are going, I will be) by the time I go.


My second dream will come as no shock. Fenway Park. Hallowed and Sacred ground. While it would be like going to Heaven to see a game there too, I'd actually be happy to just tour the park pahk. The sense of anticipation walking down Yawkey Way and seeing all the Championship banners. Entering the concourse. Walking into those stands. To see the red seat in the right field - which marks the longest home run ever hit there. By Ted Williams. To see Pesky's Pole. To enter the infamous Green Monster Monstah. To look at the dugouts. To sing "Sweet Caroline" or "Dirty Water", albeit badly. I can almost smell the stale beer and peanuts as I type this. Of course, I'd probably end up in a Boston Bahstahn jail cell because I'd probably be overcome and want to touch the field. Or chain myself in the dugout. Or attempt to stuff myself in Jason Varitek's locker.

Dreams.....

Disclaimer: I am actually from New England so while my attempts to translate the Boston accent may seem amature, I'm familiar with the accent and still used "Wicked" in the course of my daily conversation.

PS: As I type this, the Sox are up 6-0 in the third and Dice-K's looking smooth. Fingers crossed!

Thank You Jacoby

All of America should thank one of the newest BoSox, Jacoby Ellsbury. He stole a base during the game and won all of America a free taco from Taco Bell. So, visit your local Taco Bell on October 30th from 2 to 5 pm for your free taco. And remember, Go BoSox!

Disclaimer: I, personally, think Taco Bell taco's taste like ground up Alpo but I'm willing to do whatever necessary to garner fans over to the Sox Side. So, come on, root for the Sox, you know you wanna!

World Series BABBBBBBBY

Apparently, I need to amend my earlier post about what it means to be a Red Sox Fan. This is what it now means....seeing this video and wishing and hoping you were there to see it in person



GO SOX!!!!! You make a good Irish girl proud with that jig, Pap. Although, I'm thinking the goggles kind of ruin the look!

PSA: Parenthood = Control

As the mother of a 16 year old, I've learned several things:

1. No matter how much you profess that you will never be the type of parent your parents were, you will be. Its inevitable.
2. Kids are cute and entertaining, but from the moment of conception the battle of wills begins. Look at labor, you have to wait til the demon spawn in ready. You have to be miserable and look like something dragged out a zombie movie before your doctor will consider an induction.
3. You will make mistakes....and laugh at them.
4. You will find yourself thinking, "I can't wait until you have children of your own so you understand what you are doing to me"
5. You will cry....OFTEN. When they are babies, you will cry at the mistakes you make and just when you begin to think that those tears were shed over hormones, you will cry as they enter school, you will cry the first time they look at you as if you are the uncoolest person in the world, you will cry when they test your patience (which is a daily event from about 10 onwards), and you will cry as they pull away from you and want to begin their own lives. Letting go SUCKS.

As I've read many great blogs that detail conversations with their children, I think to myself, "Enjoy it now because these days won't last". Yes, I have the smugness of KNOWING what is coming next. Sure, your heart melts when they tell you that they love you or when they say you are pretty or when they think your kiss and hug can heal every hurt. Just as easily as your heart melts at those moments, it can shatter into millions of pieces at the moments to come. Let me say it again, letting go SUCKS.

I am the oldest of 3 children. Older than my sister by 7 years and older than my brother by 9 years. Our mom was strict. She ruled the roost and we all knew it. My brother and I were the type of kids who pretty much toed the line (my brother now, that's a post for another day). My sister, well she was the type of child that made you believe that some child abuse is justified! She could make our mom lose it. She knew how to push her buttons, with ease. We called these moments "Break Your Arm" moments. We laugh at it now but I wish for my sister a child just like her (hey, Karma's a bitch). She would get our mother so riled up that she would totally lose her temper. The result of one of these temper losses was her saying the BYA comment out of sheer frustration. We knew our mother would never physically abuse us, but I gotta say with my sister it was close!

I had my own BYA moment a few years back with Shaggy. He was about 10 or 11 so Drama Queen would have been 6 or 7. They were at the age where their main goal in life was irritating the living shit out of each other. This particular night, I'd had it. The conversation went something like this:

Me: If I have to tell you two to stop one more time, I'm going to get up and spank both of you!

Them: whispered pissy comments to each other because if we whisper them, she can't hear.

Me: Storms into kitchen and manages to find DQ first and smacks her.

DQ: Instantly collapses into a paroxysms of tears as if she was just beaten within an inch of her life

I make my way over to Shaggy who is standing by the fridge. This is the first point I now realize he is taller than me....NOT GOOD. I go to smack him and he puts his hand up. I realize I might have a problem here...also NOT GOOD. I then proceed to say the stupidest comment I have ever made as a parent:

Me: PUT YOUR HAND DOWN SO I CAN SMACK YOU

Shaggy: glares

Me: grabs arm and attempts to pull it down, finds out I am having difficulty budging it and once again thinks...NOT GOOD...I'm losing control here. I then make every effort to find a place to smack him (keep in mind his back is against the wall and right side against the fridge, this leaves very limited smacking space) I manage to get a wallop in against his hip which just pisses me off for 2 reasons:

1. It hurt my hand
2. He gave me a look that was so plain it was like I heard the words, "Is that all you got?"

I totally admit to losing control at that point. I'm pretty sure my head was spinning in 360s and a demon voice was being projected. I desperately searched for something to hit him with and found....

A PLASTIC SPOON

Yes, you read that correctly, I so lost control that I attempted to beat my child with a plastic serving spoon. Not one of my prouder parenting moments!

So, my advice to you all is this: enjoy your little kids now when their whole world is you. Call your parents now before it is too late and apologize for all and everything you might ever have done. Seriously think about boarding school for your puberty aged children.

The Times They Are A-Changing

Ok, first off, it took me four times to spell changing...I think my brain is turning to mush.

Fall is definitely upon us here in the Midwest, well, more specifically in my neck of the Midwest. I wouldn't want to speak out of turn for the rest of the region. Even though we don't get the signs of Fall that the East experiences, we do still have some cues that let you know a long winter is peeking out just around the corner:

1. The top news story here is about the firing of Steve Pedersen (AD for University of Nebraska, Lincoln) and the hiring (on an interim basis) of Tom Osbourne to fill his roll. Joking, why no I'm not. This is our news. From September to December, our local news focuses exclusively on the Huskers. Since I'm not from here, and the people in this area are rapid about their football team, college football at that, I chose to be a Husker Hater. I like watching the people here have their faces turn as red as their requisite Husker T-shirt or sweatshirt and their eyes bug out of their heads when I say the Huskers suck. Its good times for me. (For the record, I don't have a college affliation but *IF* I had to chose one, I'd say Penn State since Hubby's from there and BIL & SIL graduated from there. Disclaimer: this is not saying I'm a Penn State fan)

2. The temperature here goes from Hot as the Pits of Hell to Turn on the Furnace OVERNIGHT. During the course of a day, people in this state have been known to be running air conditioning to heat in the span of 12 hours. During the next 12, the cycle can easily be reversed. There are 4 seasons in Nebraska, however, they are: Wear a Sweatshirt (Fall), Wear the heaviest winter jacket you have with gloves, thermal underwear, scarf, hat and remembering to start your car AT LEAST 30 minutes before you want to leave (Winter), Wear a sweatshirt, T-shirt, and shorts because its chilly in the morning and hot enough to make you sweat in the afternoon (Spring), Wear the minimal amount of clothing you can to avoid an indecent exposure charge and avoid any public place that does not have air conditioning (Summer)

3. Rain. And lots of it. Fall rain is different from spring rain. Spring rain brings about violent crashing storms. You know you've lived here too long if instead of taking safe shelter during the blaring tornado sirens, you stand outside to see if you can catch site of it and comment on how the sky is looking green. Spring storms rarely last long before the rain lets up and you are subjected to crushing humidity. Fall rain is dreary. Its been raining for 3 days here. Its gray and miserable looking outside. Its damp and chilly. To me, there is nothing fun about fall rain because in a flash it could turn to (a) snow or (b) freezing drizzle causing car wrecks at every intersection on the way home.

4. Its dark when you get up and dark when you leave work. Talk about depressing! Nothing like only existing on flourescent lighting for 6 months of the year.

I am an oddity (yeah, like you haven't guessed that from my other posts) in that I really don't like fall. It only signals to me that winter is coming. I don't walk around saying things like, "Isn't the snap in the air great?" "Don't the trees look so cool and spooky for Halloween with no leaves?" "Isn't it nice to not have to deal with it being 97 degrees and a heat index of 125?" To me, the perfect conditions would be spring all year round, only slightly warmer. Say a nice 80 to 85 degrees with a breeze. I think I get a little down in the dumps during the changes (God help my husband when I hit menopause then!) so I figured I'd compile my list to God:

If you're listening God (which you probably aren't due to the Weepin' Jesus and all) grant me this:
1. Perfect Weather all year. You can even leave those wicked thunderstorms in. I like to sit outside with a glass of wine soda and watch the lightning. I like the smell of warm rain. Ok, good on that?
2. Make my jeans fit again without me doing any work. Ok so I know that's a pipe dream so we'll just move on...
3. Send my Sox to the Series again. I know you have the power to do this, you did it in 2004.
4. Since I'm asking and all...would it be too much to ask that there is magically either less bills or more money?
5. Can you work on the prices of gas and milk, both of which I use in large quantities. And on the milk thing, if you could just fix that for Ashley in her neck of the woods, it would be appreciated. I owe her one since she listed me on her blog roll and all.
6. Can you make sure that Shaggy stays smart and safe as he enters the dangerous woods known as Almost Grown? I've done my part and now its time for me to let go. Yeah, I need some help with that part too!
7. Can you speed up the puberty process in the Dancer so that she makes it through the teenage years without me killing her and/or becoming an alcoholic?
8. We appreciate Baby and all but can you remind the little Satan Spawn darling who rules the roost? And while we're at it, can you make sure she talks soon so that I won't run out of material for this blog?
9. Can you just eliminate Nascar? It sure would make me a happier woman.
10. Can you eliminate Hubby's craptastic (sorry Sash stealing your word here) taste in music? I know he'd say I have craptastic (that really is a fabulous word) taste but I don't. I don't own every hair band album known to man. As a matter of fact, can you just eliminate the categories of Arena Rock and Hair Bands altogether??? (I know I'm probably offending some but dammit these cd's are just taking up valuable space in our CD player for ones I like....like, Duran Duran and Prince and maybe some George Michael - just to show I too have some craptastic taste but the difference is, I like these. I do not like Warrant, Poison, Dio, Dokken, Winger, Kix, etc)

What It Means To Be a Red Sox Fan

I've been a Red Sox fan my whole life. I grew up listening to my dad grumble about Bill "Fucking" Buckner. For a long time, I actually thought that was his name. We lived in England during the '86 Series. My dad religiously watched every game. I grew up knowing the meaning of being a Sox fan. It meant having dreams crushed. It meant losing hope. It meant worshipping a team that could hand a win away.

My son, Shaggy, knew about Aaron "Fucking" Boone. He, like me, also thought that was his name. I remember watching his walkoff homerun in like the 11th inning against Tim Wakefield. I remember shutting off the TV in disgust and just going to bed. That epitomized what it felt like to be a Sox fan. The loss of hope. Knowing you were this close just to see it disappear. Hope...its a word most Sox fans know well. Loss of Hope...well thats a phrase Sox fans know better.

Something miraculous occurred in 2004. I think its because I didn't have the Weeping Jesus in a drawer. Maybe its because I was abstaining from sex at that point. Maybe its because I was only casually watching the games because they were UGLY and I was feeling that familiar loss of hope. Whatever it was, the miracle occurred. The Sox were down 0-3 games in the ALDS against, who else, the Yankees. It looked assured that yes, it would be the Yankees again in the World Series.

Game 4: I stayed up....late...somehow, someway, the game was tied. After a few extra innings, I finally had to go to bed. I think it was midnight. I woke up like a kid on Christmas morning and turned on the TV. Could it be? Was I seeing this right? The Sox pulled it out?

Game 5: See game 4 above except I stayed up later and the game went even long.

Hope....I had Hope. Could it be? Was it possible? A tiny glimmer of something so small I barely recognized it began to grow in my heart.

Somehow, the Sox managed to do the impossible. They pulled out the biggest upset in MLB history! Against the Yankees. Whom I hate. With a Passion.

Now, I find myself in a similar position this year. Trying to maintain that smallest glimmer of hope in my heart while the Sox are down 2 games to 1 agains the Indians. The current score...7-3. Hope...I feel it growing. If I had the Weeping Jesus, I'd pull him out of the drawer and light it. Hope....

Mama's Little Boy Goes To Homecoming

As you can see, my son no longer resembles Shaggy. However, even with his much improved haircut and pube beard trip, he's still an ass. He gets some kind of perverse pleasure from making me more nuts. I offered to adopt his girlfriend tonight and/or have her parents take him. For some strange reason, they seem to like him. I don't get it. He eats, he's smelly, and well, he's a boy. I truly can't imagine where he got such a smartass attitude from. He certainly doesn't take after me!

For the record, his mother is attempting to raise him right since she kindly reminded him he needed a corsage...well, you can see his response below. Then he asks me to order it and informs me girlfriend's dress is light pink and black. I know I'm old and shit, but I don't see ANY light pink in that dress.

Digital Cable 101

There was a night when Hubby and I were home alone. Both the older kids were off where ever it is they go (probably drinking and doing drugs) and the baby was with her grandparents being fed foods that were easily identifiable the next day (Thanks a freaking bunch, Mom and Dad!!!) What did we do? Go out all night and party? NO...but there were excuses reasons for that:

1. We have a severage shortage of funds in Casa de Momma Rules
2. We're old and the party scene just isn't our thing
3. My feet hurt and I wanted to get out of my girdle capris

So, off to home we went. At approximately 9pm at night. On a Saturday. On the night we were celebrating our Anniversary. Sad, yes, yes we are! At this point, you're point you're probably wondering:

1. How is this funny?
2. Is all the other shit she writes totally fictitious because they sound worse than my grandparents?
3. What the hell is the point to this rambling story?

I'll get to the point. We decided to watch a movie. Alas, (yes I really used the word Alas) there weren't any good movies on pay-per-view. Which led to us feeling old, dried up, and boring. So, Hubby thought it would be funny to scroll through the Naughty channels. Actually, I think he was testing to see if I'd say lets order one. We tried watching the previews but no dice. They don't show them on the Naughty Channels. We tried reading the overview but again, they were more boring than Hubby's Nascar book. We thought about ordering one but Holy Hell, $12.00 is a lot of money. You see, we thought we were getting a 90 minute movie. For $12. Not cool.

Then we started laughing at the channels. Did you know there are Spanish Naughty channels? A Sci-Fi Naughty? If you've got a freaky fetish (ummm yeah, I do), there is a channel for you. We started wondering what might be shown on these. In the course of this, Hubby accidentally ordered a channel. At least that's his story and he's sticking to it. I tend to believe him since we aren't Sci-Fi buffs and there is NOTHING sexy about Mr. Spock, complete with pointy ears, in a porno. We spent 10 minutes trying to cancel it. No dice there either. We laughed and then laughed some more. Especially at Mr. Spock's climax when he shot what appeared to be green pudding from his wanger. Then something miraculous occurred. The story changed. It was good, old fashioned porn.

So, you see, all's well that end's well and all ended VERY well that night! And for those of you who may have considered this purchase and been put off by the price, apparently you get it for like 12 hours.

Secrets to NOT Pissing Me Off

I'm pretty easy going. For the most part. I only lose my temper when I'm irritated. Therefore, here are some things that just irritate piss me off:

1. When I'm anticipating something and its not there. I was thinking all day today about eating the leftover Pork Vindaloo I made as part of my Indian Feast. I get ready to make dinner and *POOF* it's gone. Thanks, Shaggy, thanks a bunch.

2. When there is crap clutter everywhere. Apparently, I'm the only one this bothers. And since I'm the only one this bothers, I end up picking it up. Anal? Why yes, yes I am.

3. When I have 5 thousand hours of taped shows and without discussion, it becomes sports night. Have I mentioned I married a neck? Have I mentioned I hate racing? Have I mentioned that racing is on like 5 nights of the week? Add in baseball, college football, and football....I'm turning into a real woman who hates sports.

4. When I have to repeat myself. I love hate nothing more than telling a whole story to get to the last 2 words and have Hubby go, "What???". Way to make me feel valued! I hate calling the kids to do things and then calling them again and then again. By the 3rd time, the curse words are flying. I truly believe that in our house, the frequency of my voice is only heard by dogs...cuz there sure as hell ain't noone else hearing me!

5. When I buy a new coffee cup to get home and find out it has a huge crack in it. Way to go dumbass....nothing says competence like not looking it over before you spend an insane amount of money for a thermal coffee cup.

6. When I procrastinate so much about this dieting thing and now my jeans feel like a fucking girdle. I refuse to buy a larger size so my only choice is to squeeze into them and spend the whole day attempting to pick half my underwear out of my ass. Yes, half.


Yeah, so I've been a tad agitated the last couple of days. I feel better now.

ETA: I got control of the 'mote so the evening was much happier....I think the heavy sighing and snapping at people did the trick!!!

Supply And Demand My Friend

Last night, as I had both the older kids crammed into the clown mobile car, driving middle to dance and Shaggy to exchange his knee brace, I had a conversation with Shaggy:

Me: Ok when we get to dance and you let Kelly out, you have to get out the car backwards and dance around while singing circus music

Shaggy: gives the look that says my mother is a retard and giggles

We drop Kell at dance. By drop I mean we used to shoe horn to wiggle her out of the backseat of my little tiny clown mobile Mitsubishi Eclipse.

Then we have this conversation:

Me: What time will you be home Saturday from homecoming?

Shaggy: I'm not sure what time the dance ends but I think girlfriend has to be home by midnight.

His current curfew is 11. Yes, I realize he's 16. Yes, I realize he's a good kid. Even good kids need limits and well honestly, I feel the need to still show I have the power.

Me: You going to call Aunt about your haircut and beard trim?

Shaggy: I don't know. **pauses** I think I might just shave.

Me: Why??? Aunt said she'd pay for a haircut, style and beard trim. Let them do it.

Shaggy: I don't think I'm going to get my haircut.

Me: Shaggy, you know I don't care about long hair. If you want to grow yours that's fine. BUT, you need a trim. And you should let them neaten up your beard because, well, it looks like pubes growing on your chin.

Shaggy: Gives me "Did my mom just really say pubes and how freaking gross" look rolled into one

Shaggy: I don't want to cut my hair.

Me: You don't have to get 5" cut off but you need a trim.

Shaggy: I don't even have 5" of hair

Me: Stop being literal you know what the hell I mean.

Shaggy: But, girlfriend likes my hair

Me: You want a later curfew? Its all about supply and demand my friend!

Shaggy: WHAT?? Its NOTHING like supply and demand..I did take economics you know.

Me: I'll supply you a later curfew but I demand a haircut and beard trim, call your Aunt! See, supply and demand.

Shaggy: UGHHHHHH!

Me: You don't seem to understand that this isn't an option....When I say supply and demand, its all on my end. Otherwise, I'll be at homecoming in my nightgown at 11 to pick you up. I will stand outside the car and yell, "Shaggy....Mommy's here. How was the dance???"

Shaggy: **glare of death and dead silence**

Score 1 for Mom, 0 for Shaggy

PS: I pledge my undying love for Tina for showing me a new toy in the strike out thing!!! You rock, Tina!

Thanks and Update to Man Tag

Ok thanks so much to Jamie and Sasha for the help with the link thingy and obviously on my man tag post, I need to change my answer to the question: Who is better with the computer? My new answer should obviously be Sasha and Jamie

Link Thingy

Someone HEEEEEEEEEEEELP!!! How the holy hell do you put a link in your blog and make it say what you want?????

Man Tag

Man Tag from Sasha

1. Who is your man? The Hubby aka Don

2. How long have you been married? Since July 25th, 2006 - we had a shotgun wedding before baby was born!!!

3. How long dated? did the long distance thing from 2004 to 2005 - yes it CAN work!

4. How old is your man? 38 - a whopping 3 years older than me and definitely on the slippery slope to 40!

5. Who eats more? I'd say him....but only because I'm a damn good cook! (right, Don????)

6. Who said "I love you" first? I think it was him

7. Who is taller? Hubby is taller but by how much depends on who you ask! I'm 5'1.5" and he's 5'7.5" but claims 5'8" - yeah we're both shorties

8. Who sings better? I sound great in the shower but I'm pretty sure neither of us would win American Idol

9. Who is smarter? ok, I asked Hubby and he agreed and said me....that's right...he knows who's the boss!

10. Whose temper is worse? Well, if you asked Hubby, me....If you asked me, ummmm me. I have the hothead Irish redhead temper. I don't think I've ever scared him but a few waitresses have scurried away from our table with their tails between their legs.

11. Who does the laundry? Hubby because well, because I don't want to

12. Who takes out the garbage? Sean, our 16 yo son does. Unless he's not around, which is often. Then we try to pawn it off on Kelly.

13. Who sleeps on the right side of the bed? If you are standing at the bottom looking at it, I do. I have this thing about sleeping near the door. That way when the crazy axe murderer sneaks in I will know because he'll get Hubby first. BUT, when he gets out of bed, I usually curl up on his side.

14. Who pays the bills? Both I'd say...whoever remembers that there's a bill due when we get paid. Lately its been more me because I pay them at work when I get paid.

15. Who is better with the computer? Depends on the computer....Hubby's probably a little better with a PC than I am but I rock a Mac.

16. Who mows the lawn? Again, Sean. I used to mow when I was single. We are trying to figure out how to get Sean to do it when he's at college....

17. Who cooks dinner? Me...although Hubby is good about throwing something together during the week and he usually does Friday's since that's my night off.

18. Who drives when you are together? Usually Hubby

19. Who pays when you go out? Whichever one can get the check card out first....

20. Who is most stubborn? Again, I asked Hubby and he said we're even. He admits to being stuck in his ways (ie: when he's right, he's right and when he's wrong, he's right!)

21. Who is the first to admit when they are wrong? see #20

22. Whose parents do you see the most? Probably mine since they live here and his live in PA but we really don't see my parents that often either....

23. Who kissed who first? I think he kissed me first

24. Who asked who out? Neither, we did the ole internet hook up, met and he couldn't resist me and the rest is history!

25. Who proposed? Hubby did but he made me help pick out my engagement ring (and I had to negotiate the price on it but I did get one hell of a deal!)

26. Who is more sensitive? Ummmm the one with the uterus...that'd be me

27. Who has more friends? Neither, we're pretty pathetic on the friend front and truly like hanging out with each other!

28. Who has more siblings? Exactly the same number and we are both the oldest.

29. Who wears the pants in the family? Literally, we both do since I hate dresses but figuratively, me...he says both but he'd be wrong. He's arguing with me but since this is MY blog, I get to write what I want, you don't like it Don, get your own!!!)


And now I TAG: Tina and Mrs. Whogas

They're HEEEEEEEEEEERE

So, the Hubby and Abby returned from their grand adventure in Pennsylvania last night. I was all excited to see them and then it happened...

1. Abby was more excited to see her big sister than me. I was like a can of chopped ham, nobody wants it but it will do in a pinch. I'd say it sucks, and it kinda does, but she knows where her bread is buttered and which one of us is the easier mark.

2. Hubby's got some kind of nasty cough. It was close last night, I almost smothered him with a pillow. I never sleep well when he's not here so I was exceptionally tired. He fell asleep right away, which is a problem because he snores. He claims that I do but until I hear the audio evidence of this I do not believe it! Then, once I FINALLY fell asleep, he woke me up coughing...then again...then again. I feel bad for him but I was totally tempted to use my pillow for something other than my head last night. Lets just say that I like my sleep and I might be a tad bitchy when its interrupted.

He did bring back this picture which I thought was perfect for blogland (you might have to click to enlarge it so you can see):



There are a few options I came up with for what this store might be:

1. The place to return damaged merchandise
2. The largest Viagra warehouse in America
3. Some strange sex shop

Wonder what kind of weirdo's they breed in PA with this kind of store! :D

You Know You're Getting Old When....

You think he is one of the hottest guys on TV. I think he's really the reason I started loving "Without A Trace". Wonder how I could convince him and Jill Hennessey to pay me a visit????

Do You Know Me???

Of course you don't...you're only reading the parts of me I choose to share (or over share as the case may be). Since I keep getting this as a freaking annoying email, I thought I'd use it as a blog entry so then you can say you do know me (lucky lucky you!)

My is my full name: Caitlin Marie J. Only call me Caitlin if I'm in trouble or you want me to punch your lights out. I hate my first name. If you aren't family, don't even try the Katie thing. I haven't been Katie since I was 5 and when I hear it in relation to me, I feel like I should have overalls on and pigtails with ribbon.

The love of my life: My husband, Don. And food. And music. But mostly my husband. In spite of his fart fetish, I adore the holy hell outta him and thank my lucky stars everyday that he came into my life (unless I'm mad at him, that is).

Where we met: We haven't "met" but I would say most of you cyber met me through
Ashley's blog

Take a stab at my middle name: Duh...I typed it above...Marie

How long you've known me: probably not long enough to "get" me but long enough to find me totally fascinating!

The last time that we saw each other: when you looked at my blog, you probably saw me. Although its a purposely small picture...helps make ME appear smaller!

Do I drink: Is the pope Catholic?? What kind of good Catholic, Irish girl would I be otherwise???

Your first impression of upon meeting me/seeing me: you tell me. I'm sure it would be nicer than what I could write about myself.

One of my favorite things to do: read, write, listen to music...I'm pretty boring actually

Am I funny: I totally think so but again, you tell me.

My favorite type of music: Rock Rock and well, Rock

Can I sing: only if you want your ears to bleed

The best feature about me: I think I have amazing green eyes but since I purposely put a small picture (see above) I guess I will have to go with a non-physical feature and say I'm honest and trustworthy. If you are my friend, you are my friend for life. Also, I'm absolutely brilliant but lack the self control to follow through and finish my college degree!

Am I shy or outgoing: outgoing I'd say..who else would write about themselves on the web if they weren't?

Am I a rebel or do I follow the rules: hmmm, both I guess...

Do I have any special talents? If so, what are they: no talent whatsoever but I am a damn good cook

Have you ever hugged me: if you have, I certainly didn't know although I'd certainly like to cop a feel...I mean, hug a few of you!

My favorite food: Indian and Italian...I know I know, I'm Irish but what can I say, I have the whole United Nations for taste buds

Have you ever had a crush on me: probably not but I certainly seem to be crushing on a few of you!

If there was one good nickname for me, it would be: again, tell me though most at work refer to me as that bitch...not sure if that's a nickname or not

If you and I were stranded on a desert island, I would bring: music and books and wine

Are we friends: sure why not

Do I believe in God: absolutely but not so much organized religion. I call myself a cafeteria Catholic - I take what I like and leave the rest

Who is my best friend: my husband without a doubt

What are my political affiliations: Dem to the core..again what kind of good Catholic Irish girl would I be otherwise?

Have I ever been in the military: came close since I turned down an appointment to West Point but not me personally. I followed my dad around during his military career

What are my past jobs: hooker, stripper, and drug dealer..now I'm just a thief