East Coast Girl In The Midwest

2010 Can Suck It

2010-07-13T09:32:00.000-07:00

Every January 31st, I anxiously await the clock to near midnight. I sit there filled with hope that this NEW year will be better than the last. That might sound selfish to some, I call it honest. No matter what blessings you have in your life, they are countered balanced by trials. We all have them and we all hope to put on a happy face and pretend our life is perfect. Mine - not so much! Yes, I have a wonderful husband, a home, a good job, great kids (for the most part), etc etc etc BUT at the same time, I have heartache, pain, defeat, burdens, etc etc etc. While I realize that other people have burdens far worse than my own, the burdens I carry are oh so heavy because they are mine. I empathize with others but at the back of my mind - the small dark hateful corner of your mind that no one likes to acknowledge - I am still thinking about what I am going through.

I've been through some very dark times as an adult. Divorce is no picnic. Especially when you are left with the burden of two children - raising them, supporting them (financially and emotionally), loving them. Its a hell of a lot of balls to juggle and inevitably, you drop some. All you can do is hope that the shiny balls that lay shattered on the ground aren't ones that will have an impact in the long run but only time tells. As you stare into the shards that represent pieces of your life, you just hope that you can put it back together enough that the cracks can be hidden on the backside, like a antique Christmas ball.

How as a parent can you come out and honestly say that you have failed your child? To admit those words - its like ripping your heart out through your asshole....both painful and embarrassing. Unfortunately, as parent's we WILL fail our children. That is the one lesson that I have learned. It WILL happen. You just have to hope that its not something that will have long reaching consequences.

I sit and look at pictures of my oldest child. The baby boy I had when I wasn't much more than a baby myself. I had dreams of being someone in life but I allowed "love" to take over and sacrificed everything I had ever hoped for. I'm still someone in life but that reality is far different one than I imagined at 16, 17 or even 18. I'm a mother - for better or worse. And let's face it - there is a lot of worse involved in raising children. No one can make you question your intelligence, sanity, confidence, and common sense more than a child.

My "baby" moved out of the house back in April. It was for the best as he grew to the point where he didn't believe that a single rule applied to him. Somehow the balance of power shifted. No longer was I the one making the rules and enforcing them - he was the one telling me how it was. He forgot that it was MY house. That I paid the bills. It was miserable. I was ready to hand him his walking papers when he left on his own accord. Naturally, there was no planning on his part. He met a girl in another town (about 2 hours away) and would go visit on weekends. I knew the writing was on the wall and I was secretly counting down the days until he was gone, all the while feeling a huge load of guilt because I didn't think it was OK to feel this way. He eventually ended up staying there. Why? Simply because he didn't have gas money to come home. Does he love this girl? I don't know. Not the most auspicious way to start a relationship.

I got the news most parents have nightmares about last week - the girl is pregnant. Pregnant at 18. A life of dreams shattered. A young adulthood filled with fun over. My son is 19 and has absolutely NO concept of what he is for. His lifelong mentality of somehow, someway it will all work out isn't going to happen in this case. I'm angry, hurt, sad for them, and so very disappointed. Worse of it, he doesn't understand why I feel ANY of this. He thinks (and yes this is what he actually said to me) that since this happened, they must be ready for it. I wanted to reach through the phone and choke him. I don't know this child. This isn't my baby so filled with dreams and ambitions. This person is a complete stranger to me - one that is heading on a one way path to a life filled shattered balls and broken dreams. One that is doomed never go anywhere in life.

Now, before anyone starts telling me that this doesn't mean his life is over - let me tell you, I know this child, you do not. This is the child that I didn't think could hurt me any worse than when he didn't get his shit together to graduate. This is the child that over a year later still doesn't have a diploma or a GED. This is the child that gives up when things get tough. I wanted him out of the house to have a strong dose of reality but this wasn't what I bargained for.

So, at the end of the day, I failed my child somewhere down the line. I wish that I could pinpoint the exact moment. Was it divorcing his dad? Was it giving him too much freedom because he'd always been responsible? Was it ending therapy too soon because I couldn't afford it? Was it removing him from Catholic school? Truth is, it could be all of those things or it could be none of them. Children must forge their own paths. As I've told him, you bought this big boy bed, now you figure out how to make it.

What am I looking for with this post? Nothing - just simply a way to articulate the sadness and anger I've been experiencing. 2010 has not shaped up to the year I'd hoped it to be, not just because of this, there have been other issues. I've struggled to find my voice to talk about them. They have been stowed in my emotional backpack for me to take out and stare at in the dark and question myself. So, 5 more months of 2010 - I say lets start the countdown now and raise a glass to hoping 2011 is a better year.

Isn't It Ironic

2009-09-28T07:29:00.000-07:00

As I was driving to work this morning, I had the tunes blasting on my Pod. Nothing makes a Monday drive to work a little less sucky like good music and since this is MY pod, I get to listen to MY music without all of the craptastic (thank you Sasha!) garbage my husband likes. (hello - Bon Jovi??? Are you a 15 year old girl in 1987???)

First up - Kashmir. One of the best sex songs ever! No, not for the lyrics but the beat and the wailing???? Hello, Orgasm! Sorry, I lost myself there for a minute. Then, one of my guilty pleasures. A Motley Crue song. Yes, they are totally a hair band from the 80's and yes, I totally just made fun of my husband for this same type of music. Shut up, you know you listen to them too.

I'm driving down the street attempting to sing along to Shout at the Devil. Anyone who knows that song knows all you can sing is Shout, Shout, Shout, Shout at the devil. The rest is like listening to Mick Jagger singing Jumpin Jack Flash. Unintelligible. Unless, you are a total dweeb who looks up the lyrics so that you can sing along (Hi, Honey! I love you!). I stopped at a traffic signal and looked out the window as the chorus was playing and I was singing. What was I stopped next to? A Catholic Church.

So, yeah, a lapsed Catholic badly belting out the chorus to Shout at the Devil while stopped next to a Catholic Church. The irony of it all. I started laughing uncontrollably. Needless to say, I couldn't be sure if the funny looks I was getting were from the music choice, my caterwauling, or maniacal laughter.

All I can say is, its a good thing Closer played while I was on the road and nowhere near the house of God. Although, you gotta think that God has a sense of humor.

Farrah vs Mike

2009-06-26T07:29:00.000-07:00

Obviously, the world lost two icons yesterday. There is no disputing the greatness that was Michael Jackson. However, I feel that a great disservice is being done by only honoring him and only reporting the sensational details of his death. Lets face it, a peaceful, quiet, and dignified death just isn't going to grab the headlines.

Farrah was an icon in her own right. I read that her poster from the 70's is still the biggest selling poster of all time. There is no denying that she was gorgeous and could easily have been typecast into your stereotypical blonde bombshell roles but Farrah had some acting chops. She took on some real gritty roles. Playing Diane Downs in Small Sacrifices - a role so repugnant due to the nature of her crime - and playing her well. I've read the book by Ann Rule and seeing Farrah act out the character is so true to life to the book its just as you imagined Diane Downs as you read it.

Farrah seemed to live a quiet and dignified life. She didn't create a ton of tabloid headlines and was only recently in the news again due to her documentary. A documentary so gritty and real that it was almost the antithesis of a Hollywood star. She used her illness to educate the world. She used her illness to shine the light on huge inequities in our health care system. She refused to gloss over the gory, sad, and horrific side effects of her devastating illness and through it all kept her dignity and class in place.

On the other hand, Michael's passing surpassed and tributes to Farrah and even preempted network television. You couldn't change a channel on the TV without hearing a song of his playing or hearing the details of his death. I cannot deny that the music world has lost an indisputable legend and tremendous talent but his death shouldn't be reported as more important than Farrah's. I've heard the media say that his death is more tragic because it was unexpected but let's be real - his death is garnering more media because of his scandalous life. The strange marriages, the molestation accusations, the childlike way that he lived, and now drug abuse.

I think that this is the very epitome of what is wrong with the media. We, as a culture, thrive on salacious details. Who's dating whom, who's marrying whom, who's divorcing whom, etc. I am not excluding myself from that group by any stretch. I enjoy reading a good bit of celebrity gossip as much as the next person. However, the more I watched the media coverage last night, the more perturbed I became. I heard newscasters saying they had tributes planned for Farrah that were now cancelled due to Michael's death. How is that right? Our culture lost TWO great icons yesterday but only one of them is getting recognized.

I personally was not a huge fan of Michael's. I don't mind his music (as a music lover, you have to appreciate how revolutionary he was) but as a person, I think he was a nut. Whether or not he actually did sexually molest those boys, I am not sure but I do believe there was something "off" about a person who gets comfort from surrounding himself with young children - especially boys. I also believe that there is nothing right about sharing your bed with children who are not your own or any type of relation. He lived his life in the spotlight - partly because of his tyrannical father but lately because of his bizarre actions. I feel for the child he was but I cannot respect, or even like, the adult he became.

He will definitely leave a lasting effect on the music world. Everyone in the 80's knew someone with the Beat It jacket, glove, and huge mirrored aviator shades. People today still emulate his dances, especially the moonwalk. And a new generation is becoming familiar with his music. That should be his legacy. His legacy shouldn't be drugs, cosmetic surgery, bankruptcy, and legal issues.

Farrah is the Charlie's Angel we all remember. It doesn't matter that she was only on the show for one season. I remember my cousins and I would play Charlie's Angels and invariably there was a huge fight over who was Farrah. Most teenage boys in the 80's had a crush on her and most teenage girls wanted to be her or at least have her hair. Be at peace, Ms. Fawcett!

WTF Wednesday

2009-05-27T06:19:00.000-07:00

I need to vent and what better way to do it then to wrap it up in a cute little package with a title filled with alliteration? (Gee, can you tell that I've been helping the boy wonder with his English homework?)

Lately, I've been on daycare duty. This isn't something I normally do as the daycare is close to Hubby's work. Its been about a year since I've been in and out of there with any regularity. Needless to say, there is new staff and when I walked in a couple of weeks back to pick up the Demon, I realized that I no longer knew which room she was in. As I was looking around, one of the girls asked me who I was looking for. When I told her, she stared at me a minute longer and then asked if I was grandma. WTF? Seriously, if you have any doubt, don't you err on the side of caution and say Mom? That way, you won't insult anyone and if I was in fact, grandma, you would have flattered me. Of course, since I'm so polite and all, I told her I was mom and then informed her that I didn't like her.

Crapplebee's again. After this, you would think that I would know better but apparently I'm a slow learner. Also, read the comments on this post - someone out there really loves Crapplebees! We waited ages to go back and what happens when we do? There is rotten (and I do mean ROTTEN) celery in our starter. Normally, I wouldn't eat the celery but I just happened to be munching away on the rotten stalk. When I called the manager over and showed him the rotten celery, he asked what the problem was. Are you FUCKING kidding me???? WTF? He took the starter off our bill but it went downhill from there. I've never left a restaurant without leaving a tip but I did that night. I even wrote a note on the receipt explaining why I wasn't leaving a tip and told the manager I wasn't leaving one and why. We had to ask for our child's drink and our waitress couldn't be bothered to come back to our table. We weren't offered refills - EVER - and after sitting and waiting 10 minutes with a rambunctious toddler, I finally took the bill to the bar and bitched out a different manager. Yeah, I'm sure this get a slew of anonymous comments telling me to stay home and eat meatloaf but whatevs.

Hubby and the Demon left for a short vacation to PA this morning. I miss them already but seriously, Hubby, can't you book a flight that doesn't leave at the ass crack of dawn??? WTF? You know I'm not a morning person and it makes me want to remove your testicle (singular on purpose :D) to get up that early especially when you are off to have fun and I have to go to work. You're lucky I love you the way I do.

Hormones + teenage girl = mother ready to drink for fear of killing teenage daughter. This one doesn't even get a WTF - it gets a full Fucking Kill Me Now! Bad part is, she's only 14 so there is no end in sight. I think teenage girls are a mother's punishment for torturing their mother. I've tried apologizing but my momma only laughs. I spend days trying to decide which is less painful, repeatedly smashing myself in the head with a hammer or throwing myself down the stairs or dealing with her.

Join me in the bitch fest, won't you?

What Today Should Be

2009-05-18T06:54:00.001-07:00

Today should be the day I stand by my oldest child with my heart swelled with pride. Watching as he carefully dons the mortar board and cocks it at a jaunty angle and gives me the grin I've been seeing my whole life. The grin that says, I know this isn't right but you know you can't help smiling with me. This should be the day I reach out and straighten the hat and help him carefully place the tassel. The tassel that will eventually hang from his rear view mirror in a rite of passage. This should be the day I jam my purse full of tissues and watch my baby - the baby whose first faltering steps I witnessed - make that trek across the stage and receive the diploma that signifies his transition from childhood to adulthood. This should be the day that I watch each year of his life flash by me with each step he takes toward that diploma, from the cute little baby to the gangly preteen to the man he is today. This is all what today should be about.

Instead, today is about dreams dashed and hopes dimmed. Today is instead the day I listen to my other coworkers talk about their children's graduations that occurred over the weekend. Today is the day I listen to their stories and realize that I won't have one to share. Today is about failure, shame, and embarrasment - his and mine.

Sean needs one - let me repeat that - ONE freaking credit for his diploma. Instead of buckling down and getting the work done, he's been putting it off. Oh, he'll get a diploma but he will never have that walk, dressed in a dark green cap and gown, to receive it. I'll never have the moment of my heart swelling with love and pride, watching him take that walk. I'll never get cheesy pictures with a diploma in one hand and a thumbs up with the other hand with his buddies.

I've spent the last few weeks trying to convince myself that its ok. That as long as he eventually receives that piece of paper, the ceremony doesn't matter. I was wrong. It does matter. I sit here typing this with a lump in my throat, knowing I've failed. I've failed because I let him fail. I kept telling myself that he is 18 and it has to be his responsibility to get the work done. However, reaching high school graduation is my last official job as a parent and I didn't make it happen so the failure is mine. Now, he has 3 assignments to finish and he'll receive his diploma without any fanfare, without any announcements, without any revelry, without any ceremony. And my heart aches.

Not So Good Times

2009-03-30T17:49:00.000-07:00

Yep. I've totally neglected this blog and the blogs of all those I read. I have still been reading, but I haven't been commenting. Mea Culpas!

At any rate, between our usual busy time at work, I've also been dealing with some personal stuff. About a week ago, my parents house caught fire. Thankfully, everyone is ok and that is truly the main thing! Unfortunately, the back side of their house is trashed! Once we got over the shock, we realized that our family truly does deal with things with humor as there have been many jokes.

I've never had a childhood home. With my father being in the Air Force, I spent most of my years in base housing. I was very lucky though, in the fact that no matter where we lived or what kind of house it was, it was always home. My parent's weren't (and still aren't) wealthy but every place we lived in had a home filled with love and memories. Most of our memories can be conjured by looking at certain items in the house. No matter where we lived, I always knew home by the things around me - a house decorated for tradition, family, and comfort and not for show.

My mother was one of 10 children. Obviously, my grandparents didn't have any money and most of our "family heirlooms" were probably purchased using Green Stamps at the grocery store. I remember it being my job to lick the stamps and put them in the books.

One such purchase was our famous Turkey platter. Yes, this is just what it sounds like - a platter with a picture of a turkey on it. It graced many of my childhood Thanksgiving dinners back East until it eventually came to reside with my mother a few years prior to my beloved Nana's death. We used that platter faithfully every Thanksgiving and it was well known amongst my siblings and I that the platter would eventually pass on to me as the oldest child and the only one with children.

Once, my mother, sister and I were at an indoor flea market. I was marvelling over the booths filled with junk that was so similar to many items we had in our house. Things that others would easily view as junk but to the right person would hold precious memories. I turned a corner and busted out laughing - calling my mother over at the same time. My mother came over, thinking, I'm sure that her oldest had finally lost her mind, and stopped dead and joined my giggling. There, sitting in pride of place in this booth was the exact same turkey platter. Selling for a whopping $2.50. Once the giggling subsided, I thanked my mother for my fantastic inheritance.

We don't know what items will be salvaged from the kitchen (the worst of the damage) and the fear is that turkey platter will be lost forever. However, it is good to know that my parents will be able to claim their $2.50 loss back from insurance!

That lovely plastic covered hole you see is the kitchen

The view from the other side of the plastic

On the upside, my mother finally gets to remodel!

Yes We Can

2009-01-20T13:05:00.001-08:00

Today, I sat at a computer completely transfixed while watching history be made. I've struggled to find the reason why this inaugaration is different and the only thing I can come up with is Change. Ushering in Obama as our 44th President signifies youth, hope, unification, and change.

As I lay in bed last night, a thought struck me. There is a fundamental difference between my generation and my children's generation. As a teenager (same age as the Drama Queen), I couldn't fathom the idea of a black man and a woman competing for a presidental nomination. I saw the carnage that a female vice president wreaked on Walter Mondale. I have to admit that it was beyond my comprehension that this day would arrive. As I sat in awe seeing all the "old school" candidates drop out (ie: white males) and watched it come down to the wire between Hillary and Barrack, I knew I was witnessing history. To me, it was akin to what those in the 60's must have felt watching the civil rights movements and see the integration of the blacks. To my children, it was just the way it was. It wasn't a question for them of if could happen but why couldn't it happen. That is the moment I realized just how important this election was.

I watched on election night as polls closed and votes came in to see Barrack take state after state, I realized how much our country and our people needed this. This became not an issue of a black president, but of a young, new leader who had the power to energize a nation with his words. The power to remind us that it is not an issue of black or white, woman or man but an issue of American people stepping up to the plate to do what we can to affect change. I sat and watched my 13 year old daughter intently watching the television, so excited about an election, not because of the barriers that have been broken but because she too felt inspired by Obama and realized his message is meant and understood by all ages, race, sexes, and religions.

I, for one, am excited by all the barriers that have been broken throughout this election. Woman or man, black or white, old or young no longer matters. Having the power to unite and compel a people through your words, having the skill to speak convincingly and inspire a nation, giving us all hope for a better and brighter tomorrow is what it should be about.

PSA Number 2

2009-01-19T12:05:00.001-08:00

Alternately entitled, why birth control is a GOOD GOOD thing.

How long does puberty last in girls? Oh that's right, it starts and birth and ends sometime around the time they birth their first ~~demon spawn~~ girl child. Then, they start calling their mother's and apologizing for every shitty thing they've ever done to them. At that point, their mother laughs and tells them they deserve it. Not that I speak from experience or anything.

I always wanted a boy first and now I know why. I used to think it had to do with wanting an older brother who would be so cool and look after me, now I know its because if I'd had a girl first, I would have ripped out my own reproductive organs to prevent any further births.

The Drama Queen might not make it to 14 at the rate she's going and her birthday is in April. Hell, I might not make it to 37 at the rate she's going and MY birthday's in April too.

Apparently, at age 13, these things become your right:

1. Unlimited phone use
2. Unlimited computer use
3. Ability to ignore chores
4. Ability to roll eyes at anything parent's say
5. Ability to not only talk back to your mother but yell at her
6. Ability to act like a total snotbag
7. Ability to ignore any and all rules that you do not like

I missed this section of my parenting handbook, I think the parent's before me removed the chapter as some kind of karmic joke. Well, I'm not laughing. I'm thinking that Prozac is good - not for me, but for her. She gets me so mad to the point that I want to strangle her like those stress dolls until her eyes pop out. Some of you out there might be nodding along in agreement and some of you (either still with young girls or better yet, no girls at all) might be shaking your head in horror. I say, if you think you can do better, leave me a comment with your mailing address and I'll send her along!

I try to have sympathy - oh how I try since I remember those days myself. The days of knowing you are being a rag yet being unable to change it. The days of tears being just a eye blink away. I remember. Yet, when I get the monkey wailing at a pitch loud enough that only the neighborhood dogs can hear it, I lose any sense of sympathy.

So, help me! I need advice on how to survive raising a teenage daughter and surviving. I know it can be done - after all I'm here and my mom made it through. I'm scared to ask her in case there isn't a magic formula. The only good thing about this is I'm a redhead and they don't tend to go gray as early! :D

Supahstah

2009-01-06T07:38:00.000-08:00

I love Mary Catherine Gallagher. So, even though the show is really called Superstars of Dance, I always pronounce it as Supahstah in my best Mary Catherine Gallagher voice and then sniff my armpit fingers.

Moving on....

The Dancing Drama Queen and I have been watching this show and there is one itty bitty tiny thing about it that bothers the living fuck out of me:

Dear Michael Flattely -

You are NOT Irish. You were born in and raised in Chicago. Yes, I realize that there are a lot of Irish Americans in Chicago. Yes, I realize you are one of the best Irish step dancers there is. However, that does NOT give you the right to be the host of this show and talk throughout the whole show with an Irish accent. It bothers me and I must insist you stop. If you don't, I might be forced to come and pull a Tonya Harding on your Nancy Kerrigan ass. Don't fuck with me, fake Irish boy, as I'm a Irish American from New England area (ehhh, close enough to Boston for arguements sake) and we all know that the Boston Irish can and will kick ass.

Erin Go Bragh, motherfucker!

Shaggy's Library Trip

2009-01-05T16:50:00.000-08:00

What happens when you send your 17 year old son to the library to pick up books for you? Books that you wrote the titles and author down for. Books that you made all by one author to make it easy for him?

You are seeing that correctly, those are LARGE print books.

When I asked him why he got me large print, his response was, "Those were the first set of shelves."

Thanks, Shaggy, thanks a bunch! As if having a high school senior didn't make me feel old enough!

2009 And I Still Suck

2009-01-02T11:29:00.000-08:00

All of you readers (**knock knock - there are readers out there, right? I know Sasha still pops in and Anonymous is STILL commenting on the Crapabees post so here must be at least 2**) may have noticed that my usual lack of posts has become much longer lately. So, yeah, I suck.

I suck at commenting lately. I suck at posting lately. I just suck.

I've had stuff to say but it just hasn't seemed to want to travel to my fingers. I lay in bed at night and think back through the day and think, I should have posted about that. Then, when I wake up in the morning, its gone. Whatevs, I'm getting old.

I had this brilliant idea that I'd start off 2009 by posting something each day. Hell, this is more of way to document what a shitty parent I am and something that proves that happens at least once a day. But, here it is, already January 2nd and I've screwed that up.

I could have posted how I fell asleep Christmas Eve and almos forgot to have Santa visit. I could have posted how our front yard has become a deer graveyard. I could have posted about stealing a case of Coke from Wal-Mart. I haven't done any of those things. So, yeah, I suck.

I could have taken pictures of how the Demon Spawn decided to decorate herself with a pen and liquid eyeliner but I didn't. I could have posted pictures of how she has decided clothing is optional and is perpetually naked.

Instead, I've spent the last few weeks (months??) lounging in front of the TV. I've been comtemplating what makes a good blog as I've been reading my usuals and wondering what my voice is. What's my hook? What's my angle?

Apparently, its just to suck. And I'm succeeding!

Happy Eating Til You Wanna Puke Day

2008-11-26T12:56:00.000-08:00

from me and mine to you and yours!

Since Thanksgiving technically kicks off the holiday season, I figured I'd take five minutes and reflect on what I am thankful for:

My Husband - even when he aggravates the holy hell out of me, he is still the best thing to come into my life. He loves me unconditionally, thinks I'm pretty, tolerates all my moods and quirks. I need to spend more time telling him how great he is instead of getting dwelling on what he does to piss me off. I love you more today than yesterday, Don. Thanks for healing all the holes in my heart.

My Shaggy - the child that made me a mother, the child that makes me proud. I can't believe it is almost time to drop kick you out the front door. You will always be my baby and I will always love you. You make me laugh and your sisters should thank you for raising a mother so they had the easy road! :D

My Dancing Drama Queen - the only expected (not to mention conceived in welock child since I'm a sinner and all) child and my first beautiful baby girl. You were everything I hoped for when I was pregnant and have grown into so much more as the time has flown by. Even though I'm seriously giving thought to deporting you until puberty is over, you always hold a special place in my heart as my first and most precious baby girl. Keep pirouetting through life and living up to all your dreams!

My Demon Spawn - you were the most unexpected gift I never thought I wanted. You have completed our families in a way that we didn't even realize they needed until you came along. Even though you will always be Daddy's girl, you have definitely taught me that motherhood isn't something that happens at birth but more so something that you have to earn. I love you, my pumpkin pie!

My Mom and Dad - you both showed me what family means and also what marriage means. You are the greatest parents any child could want. Thank you both for all the joy, the memories, the love, and most of all for being my parents for the last 36 years. (Remember when I was a teenager and thought you both sucked and you told me when I was a parent I'd think you were cool again? Yeah, you were right!)

My sister - thanks for always showing me up by being the "good child". Erin - what can I say to you...I'm thankful for you and all that it entails. I love you more than I ever tell you Owen.

Friends - there aren't many but for those that I am close to (yes, in case you are reading, this includes you Devil Boss) thanks for letting me be me and always being there if I needed an ear.

I've come to realize that as I get older, I get (A) sappier, (B) wiser, (C) introspective. A good friend just lost her mother and another found out his father has cancer and yet another is struggling watching her paren't age and it has made me realize, there isn't always a tomorrow and we must take the time to let those who matter know how important they are to us. So, thank you to all of you in the internetz/bloggerville who have touched my life.

Have a wonderful, safe, and satisfying Thanksgiving!

Abby and the Potty

2008-11-19T17:20:00.000-08:00

Abby turned 2 in September. Right around that time, she decided that shit in her diaper wasn't pleasant. AT. ALL. We had to start watching her like a hawk because...well because toddler shit doesn't like to stay put in a diaper. It likes to roll onto the carpet and then get smashed in by toddler Flintstone feet. Quite frankly, Momma is sick of cleaning carpets.

We dragged the trusty potty into the living room and bought some schweeeeeeeet undies (or sandies in Abbyese) and decided this would be a good time to start potty training.

Lo and behold, she had some instant success as demonstrated in the picture. If you look real close, you can see the brown shark in the potty. Wow, I thought, this is going to be easy. Yeah, she fooled me. The potty eventually got retired for a couple of months and we started putting the diapers on backwards and gave a permanent place of residence to the steam vac. I started calling it Stan and it was like he was a part of our family he got used so much. (I'll be damned if the Demon Spawn didn't figure out pretty freaking quick how to remove those backwards diapers).

Fast forward to the last couple of weeks and we have been having renewed potty success. We still have to watch the Demon Spawn like a hawk because she loves to empty the potty and with those toddler Flintstone feet, she falls alot. That is something I totally don't get - I swear her feet are as wide as they are long..you'd think that would give her added stability. At any rate, the other night she peed in the potty, grabbed the cup out and started her mad dash to the bathroom to wish her tinkle good-bye.

I managed to stop her and asked her what she had...her response has me really worried about what she's doing with that potty when we aren't watching. She said it was juice. Hmmmm...thats a new kind of juice but I guess whatever floats her boat!

As an aside, potty training her reminds me of Shaggy way back in the day. When he finally shit on the toilet, he wouldn't let me flush it because his dad wasn't there. He sat in his bedroom window and waited for his dad to get back. When he saw him walking up the steps (we lived in a townhouse complex), he screamed out the window, "Dad, come watch my poop dance." Apparently my kids also have a bathroom fetish....

Into The Rabbit Hole

2008-10-27T19:47:00.000-07:00

Since Hubby has been watching the World Series - a World Series I am totally boycotting in spite of my love of baseball, a World Series we aren't talking about since the Sox C-H-O-K-E-D - I've been forced into the bedroom to find whatever I can on television. Let me tell you, its been slim pickings. The good side, I've been catching up with my reading.

At any rate, I was flipping channels last night and happened to catch another Duggar show. Thinking it was another of their specials, I started watching and quickly - oh so quickly - got sucked into the newest Duggar Vortex. 17 Kids and Counting.

Now, I think these people are freaking certifiable. I have enough trouble with 3 kids. I'm also a little (ok more than a little) freaked out by their lifestyle. There is just something so....so....cultish about their family. The girls all dressed in skirts and long long hair. The boys in khakis and polos. The constant religious aspect. The homeschooling. I know there are people who read this who homeschool *cough*Tina*cough* and I truly do say to each their own but, when you add homeschooling to this family. At any rate, I think you get the point that I think they are strange.

OK - I'll say it. They flat out piss me off. They have all these kids and say that its "God's Will" but as far as I can see from watching any of the shows, they don't raise all these kids. Each little kid is assigned a buddy - an older sibling - to help care for them. To me, you are forcing these kids to become parents. If you want to have 100 kids, GREAT! Have them! BUT, I think you have to be prepared to raise them yourself. Your children didn't have these kids - you did!

Now, I feel better getting that off my chest. I'm sure there are those who will not agree with me and that's ok. That's what makes this country great - we can all have our own ~~asshole~~ opinion.

However, in watching one of the episodes last night, I was left totally speechless. And for anyone who doesn't know me, that doesn't happen often. The Duggar's oldest son has a girlfriend. One he wants to start dating seriously. What does he do? He calls the girl's parents and asks if he can have her hand in marriage so that they can date seriously. OK - strange but I get all that. He flies to Florida and proposes and then...he hugs her. He later explains that they will not kiss until their wedding. What the HELL??? I get the no sex thing. I can even respect that. I couldn't do it but I do get it. I even understand the engagement thing. What I don't understand is, you are 20 years old, you've asked this woman to marry you and all you can do with her is hug her and hold her hand? That, I do NOT get.

You will notice that I tend to shy away from 2 things on this blog - politics (I'm a democrat) and religion (I'm a Catholic) since both are pretty personal things and both are things that you generally will not change someones mind on. The Duggars fall into my no religion rule but I just had to blog about this. I give them a lot of credit in that they seem a very happy ~~cult~~ family but, I do also believe in all things in moderation. I'm pretty sure God wouldn't keep them out of Heaven for kissing.

**stepping down from my soapbox with the promise to return to regularly scheduled programming**

SHHHHHH

2008-10-20T06:03:00.001-07:00

We are NOT going to discuss the Red Sox.

Law and Order: SVU

2008-10-09T14:00:00.000-07:00

In the criminal justice system, sexually based offenses are considered especially heinous. In New York City, the dedicated detectives who investigate these vicious felonies are members of an elite squad known as the Special Victims Unit. These are their stories.

Kelly and I were watching an old episode of SVU last night. During the opening credits (as above) she turned to me and said, "Isn't heinous a bad word?"

I said no, it means horrible. She paused for a moment digesting this information. Then she said, "Well isn't the word like heinous a bad word?"

I'm sitting there trying to puzzle out a synonymn for heinous that could be a bad word and getting no where so I ask her what word she means.

She says, "Like heinous but without the h".

I'll give you a minute to sound it out in my head like I did last night.

**cue the Jepoardy music**

Did you come up with anus? Did you laugh?

Apparently Frank, who's really smart, told Kelly that anus was a bad word. I disagree with Frank's level of smartness since he thought anus was a bad word. Once I explained to Kelly that anus was the anatomically correct way to say poop chute, I think she wishes she'd stayed in the dark and never asked....

Abby the Explorer

2008-10-08T17:39:00.001-07:00

Abby is addicted to a few shows - Onder Pets, Ongebob, Ora, Boos Clues to name a few (Let me know if anyone needs the translations to those titles as they are in Abbaese). As a matter of fact, she's behind me now, buck ass naked, singing about Eam Ork (Teamwork) as she watches the Wonder Pets.

This weekend, I found out just how much she's addicted to these shows. She was sitting on her potty (don't ask how that's going...she'll sit on it until she has to go then gets up and shits or pees on the floor) and I was talking to Kelly. I was listening to Abby with half an ear when I though I heard uno. Thinking that she babbles a lot and I wasn't paying total attention to her, I just assumed I misunderstood.

Then, I heard tres, cinqo, ocho. After I picked my jaw up from the shock, I shushed Kelly and told her to listen. I'll be damned if she didn't count to 8 in Spanish. All of the numbers correct. My favorite is ocho because of the way she says it, OOOOOOOCHO.

On a side note, anyone have any tips on potty training? She won't keep a diaper on (especially if she poops in it) yet, short of superglueing her ass to the potty, she won't stay on that either. What's worse is, she makes sure to tell us as soon as she goes on the floor. I'm thinking she'll be in diapers til she's 21 at this rate....

Houston....We Have a Problem

2008-10-06T12:24:00.001-07:00

Hubby and I have been tossing around when would be the right time to convert Abby's crib into a toddler bed. We've been in no rush to do it since the crib has kept her nice and contained. As a matter of fact, I threw her in there about 11 am on Saturday because she was being real whiney and difficult. I figured it was close enough to nap time. Somehow, when I left the room, I shut the door all the way. After about 5 minutes of her screaming, I told Kelly to go and get her up as she obviously wasn't ready to nap.

Kelly opens her door and I hear, "How did you get out?". I knew it was trouble right then and there. I go down to the Demon's room and sure enough, she is free from her cage. I put her back in and told her to show Mommy how she got out and she sure did!

Please excuse the Wal-Martz look of a diaper and a t-shirt, we are also working on potty training.

Almost over....Just a bit further

"Ha Ha! Thought you could keep me in here did you???"

I imagine that we'll be on the news shortly about some wild looking child wearing only a diaper and a t-shirt found wandering up and down our street.

Deep Thoughts

2008-09-29T18:44:00.000-07:00

I know I've mentioned that I'm an Air Force Brat and that I attended High School in England. For the record, I have no idea why brat and high school are capitalized. Moving on....

Children of parents in the Armed Services have a unique bond. Perhaps its because we know our time together is limited until our parent receives their next assignment. Perhaps its because we all understand what the life if like. I'm not sure exactly why but I do know that I can recall names, faces, memories of the friends I made at every base we were stationed at. I may not have kept in touch but each of those friends left their imprint on my life. However, being stationed overseas changed that bond. It made the bond you had with others more concrete. We had the added bond of knowing we were strangers in a foreign country. This caused us to cling to each other even more so.

When we moved to England in 1984, the base my dad was stationed at was in the process of building a new school. It was a lovely $20 million dollar project that would house all of us Air Force kids grades K-12. In the meantime, grades K-3 attended one school that was an old firestation and grades 4-9 attended school in these building that we guess were old offices. After 9th grade, we were bussed off to attend school on another base just outside of London.

At this school, there were day students (student's who's parents were stationed at that base), 5 day dormies (me - kids who's parents were stationed close enough to make it financially feasible to send us home on weekends), and 7 day dormies (kids who were too far away to spend weekends at home). This type of existence created a huge bond between all of us. I attended this school for 10th grade only before our new school opened. In spite of the fact that I was only there for one year, if a name is mentioned to me, it usually will conjur up a face to go with it. We were tight.

Both of these schools are now closed. Both bases have fallen victim to the Ballistic Missles Treaty between the US and Russia in the early 90's. Our brand new school graduated only three classes - class of 1989, class of 1990 (that was me) and class of 1991. These were small classes, there were only 45 kids in my graduating class. Perhaps a total of 50 in the class of 1989 and less than 40 for the class of 1991.

I had been living over there since 7th grade. I was a long timer, with my parents signing on for an extra tour of duty so that I could complete high school in one location. Even though our school was small, I felt that I was pretty well known by most people simply by the fact that I had been there forever.

In about the last 4 years, there have been some attempts to locate all the alumni. Most of us scattered all over the globe at graduation, breaking the promises that were penned in numerous yearbooks about keeping in touch. It was different for us, we didn't all live in the same town - we weren't likely to run into each other. We all began to live our lives and while the memories we had of those years faded, they were never completely erased.

With the advent of MySpace and Facebook, the reconnection effort has exploded. We are all finding each other again after 20 odd years. The odd thing is, the faces I hold in my memories, the faces that are conjured up to match a name, are the faces I saw last in the early 90's. I've forgotten that all of us have aged - most with families of our own and some of us with children the same ages we all were when meeting. Its such a shock to the system to see these adults. I guess in some corner of my mind, I was still expecting the pegged jeans, the Iron Maiden t-shirts, the flannel overshirts, the big hair, the blue eyeshadow, and the many other compenents that made up the fashion disasters of the 80's and early 90's.

I've discovered that a few people actually live in cornland with me. One of them was a girl I wasn't particularly close to in high school who has continually offered to meet up for lunches, dinners, etc. I keep blowing her off. Why? I don't really know. I guess some of the other people I've come in contact with over the years seem to be stuck in high school. They seem to want to live in the past. I know I'm not the same person I was 20 years ago. I guess the other part is being afraid. My life after high school didn't quite turn out as I expected and I know I was perceived as one of those who was going to "go places". I'm sure as hell not the skinny kid I was 20 years ago. Fear of being a disappointment - fear of being judged - fear of finding out those you were closest too 20 years ago are no longer people you'd chose to associate with. That's what's holding me back.

So, next June is the 20th reunion of the class of 1989 being celebrated with a reunion in Kansas City. I've been toying with it in my mind trying to decide if I want to go. Do I have the balls to face all these people and say, "This is me now - no college degree, a shitload of kids, a mouth like a sailor, and an ass the size of Australia". If I don't go, will I be missing a great opportunity to relive some crazy and outlandish moments with those I shared them with (bottles of Mad Dog 20/20 and Nightrain were probably involved with most of those memories)? Will I be missing the opportunity to discover people I wasn't close to? Will I be missing the opportunity to discover that most of us attending have the same extra pounds? Will these people "get me"?

Is it really fear holding me back or am I as judgmental as I'm afraid these people will be of me. All of the people sharing cornland with me aren't people I hung with. There might have even been a couple I really didn't like. Am I holding back because I didn't like someone 20 years ago? What if they've changed just as I've changed? Am I missing the opportunity make some new lifelong friends - friends who happen to share an experience with me?

I guess the important question to ask is: Will there be booze there?

Happy Birthday, Crabigail!!

2008-09-15T11:44:00.000-07:00

Today marks the day, 2 years ago, that you came into our lives. While unexpected, I feel that you have enriched our lives beyond measure. You are the cement that binds our blended family together.

I'll be honest with you, little one, I wasn't all that excited about the prospect of another child. I was happy with the way things were, your dad and I finally had a little bit of financial freedom. We were both comfortable with the idea that I had my children and he had his children and we wouldn't have our child. Apparently, someone had bigger and definitely better ideas. You beat the odds - the odds of birth control pills and a low sperm count due to testicular cancer - to be conceived. Somebody much smarter than daddy and I obviously saw that there was something missing from our lives.

I started getting a little more excited once we found out that you were a girl. You see, daddy already had two boys and truly believed that he didn't have the girl gene. His voice cracked with emotion on the way home from the ultrasound. It's the closest to crying I've ever seen your daddy come. Even then, I was really more happy for him than I was about this whole baby thing.

You were born in a flurry of activity early on a Friday morning. My water broke in true dramatic fashion about 4 am on the 15th. I was still more excited at the prospect of getting my body back than your birth. Well, especially after since Mommy was really sick after the c-section.

We brought you home, we fed you and cuddled you, we marvelled over you. Yet, still a dark cloud persisted. You see, you had a bent up ear, a hemangioma birthmark, and a mild form of spina bifida (a sacral dimple, or what mommy likes to call - your extra butthole). Each new issue brought a new wave of guilt over mommy. It was all mommy's fault that you had these issues because of how I felt. Mommy distanced herself even more.

There were even issues with mommy and daddy's marriage. Mommy was pretty resentful over all the changes going on. Daddy was so in love with you that sometimes it didn't seem like he had any love left over for mommy. You and daddy just didn't seem to need mommy around.

Then one day, it happened. Mommy went and fell head over heels in love with you. It wasn't the same instantaneous reaction mommy had with Sean and Kelly, but somehow, someway, you snuck in and grabbed hold. It wasn't that mommy didn't love you before, because she did. It was just different. You never seemed to need me the way that Sean or Kelly did. You often seemed to prefer daddy over me. Oh that stung. But again, mommy figured it must be her fault in some way.

Now, no matter how difficult it can be at times, I wouldn't change it. When you run through the front door and wrap yourself around me and say "mommmmmmmy" like you haven't seen me in a month, my heart melts. When you look up at me and say, "I wanna biss (kiss)" I would give you the moon. When you sit and have conversations with me, even when I can't understand it all, I want to freeze time and treasure every syllable. When you cuddle up to me and want me to read to you, I will put aside anything I'm doing so as to enjoy the feel of your baby fat body in my arms. When you want to sit and sing songs with me, you have my undivided attention - and totally off key voice - for as long as you want it.

You, my perfect little surprise, have taught me not to take anything for granted. Motherhood is a gift, one to be valued, treasured, and protected. It is not my right simply because you grew in my body. So, with more love today than 2 years ago, mommy wishes you a happy birthday and asks you not to grow up too fast!

PS - reading this back, mommy suspects she might have had some PPD that she wasn't willing to admit to before, hiding and burying it all under a smile.

PPS - This was one of the hardest things I've ever written...talk about stripping yourself raw!

I Wanna Be An Airborne Ranger...

2008-08-22T07:11:00.000-07:00

March along, sing our song, with the Army of the free
Count the brave, count the true, who have fought to victory
We're the Army and proud of our name
We're the Army and proudly proclaim......

Oy Vey! I came home last night to find an Army recruiter sitting in my house talking to my son. Apparently, my son neglected to inform me that he was coming over to discuss the Reserves.

My Son....

In

The

Army?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

We aren't Army people in our house...my dad was Air Force and Hubby was Navy...there is no Army.

My Son.....

A

Grunt?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

So, of course, the recruiter gave us the happy song and dance about how wonderful the reserves are. How happy he would be. What a great opportunity to pay for his education. It was all sunshine and roses. It was all love and kisses. It was all...

A load of smoke being blown up my ass.

I flat out asked him what his chances were at getting deployed to Iraq. He danced around the issue. He tried to tell me that the jobs Shaggy professed interest in were safe. I told him he was full of shit. This is MY baby we are talking about and I know military life. Jackass.

I promptly called my dad after the recruiter left fully expecting him to tell me to hide Shaggy in a closet and not to ever ever ever let the Evil Empire (aka the Army) get their hooks into him.

Did I get that? Of course......NOT. My dad's only response was that Shaggy should look into it as active duty (heehee I said doody) instead of the reserves.

I guess on the plus side, I do love a man in uniform.....but ewwwwww Army green is not attractive on anyone. The recruiter did have one of those cute little beret hats though.....NO NO NO Army. Not my baby!

Has anyone had any experiences with the Army reserves (good, bad, otherwise) that they'd like to share with me? It sure would help me be able to steer my baby in the right direction!

Shaggy Gets No More Red Sox Gear - EVER!

2008-08-18T08:49:00.000-07:00

I've determined that Shaggy is bad luck to my Red Sox. Everytime we get him any Red Sox gear with names on it, the player leaves. With that being said, he no longer gets any player specific gear unless it is a player we wanted traded!!!

Case in point 1: My sister lovingly orders Shaggy a Johnny Damon T-shirt for Christmas. She does this ohhh in about October. By the time December rolls around, Johnny Damon has been traded to the Yankees. The t-shirt is now a rag shirt.

Case in point 2: In April, Shaggy begs for a Manny Ramirez jersey. (Actually he's been begging for one for a few years but they are ridiculously expensive and Manny always seems to want to be traded). I managed to find a jersey on e-bay for $40.00. Cha and Ching, Shaggy's birthday done! Fast forward to now, and who's no longer with the team? That's right, Manny. That great bargain jersey? Now sitting in the closet collecting dust, never to be worn.

So, now we have one size XL Manny Ramirez Red Sox road jersey for sale.....anybody? Bueller?

Holy Vicodin Batman

2008-08-16T07:32:00.001-07:00

Did you know that dentist prescribe Vicodin? No? Neither did I - until yesterday that is.

Let me set the scene -

3:30 pm: Grown woman who looks like she is about to cry and beg for her mama is sitting in the waiting room of the oral surgeon's office.

3:45 pm: Grown woman is contemplating making a break for it but seems to notice the receptionist eyeing her and sending the message that if she moves she will be taken down WWE style.

4:00 pm: Grown woman finally called back. Takes the long walk and imagines the dental assistant shouting, "Dead Woman Walking" as they make their way back to the office. Palms are now sweating and face is dead white.

4:05 pm: Grown woman sits in the chair...imagines this is what the electric chair feels like.

4:10 pm: Injections begin. Injections hurt. A tear or two might slip from grown woman's eye. Dentist discusses also using a long lasting local anesthic. Grown woman heartily agrees.

4:20 pm: Dentist injects the long lasting local. Injections still hurt. Grown woman begins to worry even more. Current blood pressure reading at 165/105 (Her normal is 112/67)

4:30 pm: Dentist begins. Grown woman winces and makes ouchie noises. Dentist asks what she feels. After debating kicking him in the crotch, grown woman answers, PAIN. More local anesthetic is applied. Whole bottom of woman's face is now numb.

4:40 pm: Mild discomfort as left bottom wisdom tooth is removed. Deep breaths.

4:50 pm: Definite pain and more tears as bottom right wisdom tooth is removed. Just as grown woman is ready to start yelling like a bitch, dentist announces tooth is out. Grown woman is very happy.

5:00 pm: Stiches and gauze applied. Teeth are examined. YUCK. Dentist asks grown woman if she wants her teeth to which grown woman replies that she might be a little old for the tooth fairy.

6:00 pm: Quick trip to Wal-Mart for soft food and soup and Vicodin.

7:00 pm: Back home. Grown woman gets into pajamas and makes soup. Discovers that it hurts to eat. Decides to take a Vicodin as pain is getting pretty bad.

8:00 pm: Woman out cold in bed. Does not see the light of day again until this morning.

Now, I feel like a chipmunk and my whole lower jaw hurts. I did wake up to find that my wonderful Hubby had cleaned the bathroom and kitchen so he's kinda my favorite person right now.

Crapplebees Part Deux

2008-07-07T18:28:00.000-07:00

Awhile back, I made this post about a family visit to Crapplebees. For some reason this post has recently attracted some "interesting" comments.

The first one was received on 5/28 (and this is a direct copy and past from the comment - those are NOT my misspellings):

then stop feeding your kids processed junk and stop bothering people by eating out by leaving yoru crying children home. something tells me none of you have owrked in miserable casual dining.

I read it and thought, well that's interesting. I debated responding to it and then thought, what's the point? Due to the tone and grammatical errors, not to mention the misspellings, I thought it might well be hard to respond on that level.

Then, on 7/5, I received this comment (and this is a direct copy and past from the comment - those are NOT my misspellings):

don't go out stay home and eat meatloaf and complain about it you stupid cow
Now piss off

Once I was done laughing that a post about Applebees would inspire this kind of ire, I figured I'd respond to both comments. Then I started wondering would I sound angry? Even if I tried to be funny, would it still come across as angry? I figured that I was more than likely going to come off bitchy, which wouldn't take rocket science to figure that's exactly what the infamous Anonymous commenter wanted.

To me, the purpose of blogging is a place to share with people who usually don't know you a chance to view your life through whatever window you choose to open. You are putting yourself out there. Opening yourself up to whatever comments - supportive and otherwise - are left for you. I choose to share pretty much whatever is on my mind. I have a don't hold back mentality and enjoy hearing that the ups and downs of my life amuse people. Its a creative outlet for me to vent, bitch, or share whatever I feel is worth writing about.

So, to the infamous Anonymous, let me respond to your comments:

1. I don't feed my children processed junk BUT if I did, what difference does it make to you? Do you get a sense of superiority by telling me not to feed them processed junk? If so, you're welcome for the cheap thrill! Now, I must go open a can of spaghetti-o's for the baby.

2. I can assure you that we do often leave our children, crying and otherwise, at home and go out. I can also assure you that I have taken children, crying and otherwise, out. My children are not perfect - they sometimes act up when out in public - but unless something in our civil rights have changed, I'm pretty sure I have the right to go where ever I chose with or without crying children. I'm also pretty sure that I have the right to say whatever the fuck I want about it, just as your have the right to leave an unintelligible and poorly written comment about it. Next time - continue your education past the 7th grade!

3. I have never worked in any food service business. However, I do know what my philosophy is when out: If I get good service, I compensate accordingly. Good service isn't about me not liking the meal or having a problem with the meal. Good service is about not being a moron and putting a steak knife in front of a baby. Good service is not about being a moron and asking if I want my dinner, that contained a hair, boxed up to go. Take these tips with you when you go to work tomorrow - wait, you don't get tips at McDonald's do you?

4. If I were to stay home and eat meatloaf, I guarandamntee you I wouldn't be complaining about it since I would have made it.

5. Stupid cow? You could have made a better insult if you just said fat cow. I've blogged publicly about having a fat ass. I've also made mention of the fact that I'm pretty fucking smart.

I've often said that I'll take whatever comments I get and be glad for them. Do not mistake this post - I'm taking the comments, and I'm glad for them since it gave me some blog material. If you are going to leave uneducated anonymous comments, be prepared to be called out for them! Also, next time I go through the Mickey D's drive thru - I don't want that supersized, mmmmm'kay?

For Sale

2008-06-26T13:07:00.001-07:00

One slightly used child.

You can pick out the newest model as seen here:

AKA Demon Spawn, Devil's Child, Seed of Satan
Pros: She's really cute and smart
Cons: She's bad.

You can go with the middle model as seen here:

AKA Drama Queen, Monkey Wailer, Tiny Dancer
Pros: She's beautiful - just look at that picture!! She's a lot of help (with the right incentive)
Cons: Everything's a battle, the tears are copious.

You can go with the oldest model as seen here:

AKA Shaggy, You Smell, You're Gross
Pros: He's a hardworker, good with yard work, pretty funny
Cons: He likes to be dirty....really really dirty

Why am I selling off one or all of my kids? I have several reasons:

1. The economy freaking sucks and I just can't freaking afford them anymore.
2. They sometimes get on my nerves.
3. Momma needs to get some more dental love.

That's right folks, the women who hates/loathes/fears the dentist is smack in the middle of a major reconstructive project on my mouth and its fucking expensive.

The tally to date includes 1 crack ho extraction, 1 full mouth debridement (yeahh to year's of tartar build up), 1 filling done on the front of a tooth extending below the gumline, 1 crown.

Still to be completed?? Extraction of two lower wisdom teeth, 3 more crowns on the lower molars, and 1 more filling. That will just take care of the lower jaw.

Total cost to me - $960 give or take a couple of bucks. Oh God, I'm pretty sure I just puked a little. Bottom jaw only. Fuck me!

Now I'm scared to death of the top jaw because due to a couple of accidents, I have some nice chipped teeth right in the front. My dentist muttered something about the top teeth to his assistant. I couldn't hear it real clearly but I'm pretty sure it was something along the lines of a new BMW thanks to my mouth. We're talking about some more crowns and some veneers and probably an implant to fill my crack ho spot.

I told Kelly that braces were off the table for her until....well until she can pay for them herself.

The only good news out of this is, with all the restorative (nice use of a dental term!) work to be done, I won't have any need for bleaching since they will all be white anyway.

Along these same lines, what's everyone doing to stay afloat with the economy what its like. Damn we were barely scraping along before now with all the rising costs, we are starting to sink.

Maybe I should leave that crack ho hole alone and start earning money the old fashioned way......

Conversations With Abby

2008-06-18T06:39:00.001-07:00

As parents, we think our little ~~demon spawn~~ princess is pretty darn smart. Of course, we are supposed to think this. However, I have had others mention her verbosity to me so I know its not all in my head!

She loves for me to read her books. She sits intently on my lap and studies each page as I read it. She gazes up at me in wonder when I change my voice for different characters. It truly is a special time (especially since The Night Before Christmas magically disappeared since we all knew it by heart after each reading it every night). Her favorite book these days is a color book. She loves to bring it to me and have me ask her the colors. Damned if she can't tell me.

M: Abby what color is this?

A: Wed!

M: That's right, Red!!!

We go through each color, mean (green), wellow (yellow), mink (pink), mown (brown), etc, until we get to black. Black is my favorite color:

M: Abby what color is this?

A: Cock!

M: Wild giggles

H: Buh buh buh Black

A: Cock!

I love it....yes, that makes me sick and twisted mother but its just too damn funny.

The other day she was running around naked (yes, this is our lame ass attempt to potty train). When I came in to yell at her for the millionth time to sit her hiney down on the potty chair, I found her sitting on the floor with her legs spread wide. She had a wad of stuffing from the couch which she was oh so carefully attempting to place on her girly area. Yes, like hair....hair down there.....I lost it in a fit of giggles. I was laughing so hard I was crying.

Also, don't ask her to say talk, it sounds an awful lot like black!

I Iz A Crack Ho

2008-06-04T13:05:00.000-07:00

Have I mentioned my insane fear of the dentist? The fear that is so bad that my hands start sweating just at the mention of dentist? The fear that is so overwhelming I must feel like my tooth is going to explode and take along half my jawbone with it before I will go in?

When I was little - about 3 or so - I had a family dentist who didn't believe in using novacaine for some of the pesky "little" cavities. Yep, thats right, he'd drill my teeth sans anesthesia all while singing "Ki-Ki-Ki-Katy". Naturally, the dentist became equated with pain to me.

Then, at the tender age of 13, I performed a spectacular circus stunt over the front handlebars of my bike. This spectacular stunt involved my face taking the full impact into the concrete. Oh the joy of braces to hold my teeth in and a summer filled with dental appointments.

Needless to say, those two events started as a nasty little seed of fear that has since grown into the size of oh I don't know, the planet Venus. I have to be HURTING and hurting badly to go to the dentist. Then, it had been so long, that the fear combined with embarassment to prevent me from crossing the threshhold of a dental office!

About 6 months ago, a filling fell out. Since it didn't hurt, I didn't go to the dentist. The small opening became larger but still didn't hurt. The logical, not insane part of me knew I needed to go in but the absolutely whacked out nutjob part kept insisting it was fine. Then the damn thing started hurting - on a weekend of course - so I dealt with the pain because "it wasn't that bad" and sure enough, it eventually stopped hurting but then this large tender lump started to appear on my gumline above this tooth.

Anyone guess absess? You win the prize! Still, I did not go to the dentist. I did not go in until I read that an untreated absess can cause bone deterioration and could lead to jaw surgery. HELLO! That got my attention!

So, I made the appointment - explained what a wuss I am and perhaps even shed a few tears - and went in to find out that I needed the tooth pulled. Today was the big day. Since it was one of my first molars, I now look like a toothless crack whore.

On the plus side, I did make an appointment for a check up and they actually put in the computer that I cannot call to cancel (because that is how I roll) and once I get the lowdown on all the work (ie: cost) involved in my mouth, I'll go back and do the cosmetic part of getting my crack ho hole filled. I'm thinking I'll pimp out the mouth with a nice gold molar.......

Mama's Little Boy Has A Broken Heart

2008-05-20T08:48:00.000-07:00

Dear Shaggy's Ex-Girlfriend,

You and Shaggy dated for over a year. While I truly didn't expect the relationship to last past high school, I was happy to see him so happy. I truly understand that teenagers date and teenagers break up - the breaking up wasn't really an issue for me.

However, what was an issue for me was the way you handled it. You handled it like a real bitch. I'm sure in the course of the year you dated, Shaggy told you all about his father. Yes, that would be the one who left him when he was 9. The one he hasn't seen since then. The one that abandoned him so cruelly, Shaggy felt it was his fault and wondered what he did wrong. Now, you aren't responsible for any of that and believe me when I say that I was there. I helped him through it and hopefully helped heal his heart just as he healed mine.

So, what is this shit that you told him when you broke up. That you were breaking up with him because, "he didn't seem that into you". I was pretty sure that was a bullshit excuse at the time but remembering what it was like to be a teenage girl, I gave you the benefit of the doubt. I remember that in high school, it is better to be the dumper than the dumpee. I remember breaking up with boys before they had a chance to do it to me. So, I kinda understood. We (his father of his heart and I) stood behind him and talked to him and tried to help him heal. We advised him to not call you and seem desperate but to give you room. We told him that perhaps you were having a bad day/week/whatever and if it was meant to be that it would work out but not to hold out hope.

We see him moping around the house, desperately trying to rekindle old friendships that he let languish because he devoted every spare minute to you. We watched as he struggled to find things to do on his weekends - weekends he used to spend with you. We understood, believe me we did and didn't blame you for any of that.

Until yesterday - when I find out that you have a new boyfriend. Let me tell you how much that pissed me off. Not that you had a new boyfriend but in the way you ended things. That was a totally chickenshit way to do it - putting the blame on him knowing what he's been through and knowing that he would be making every effort to try and fix what couldn't be fixed. You owed him the truth. The truth that it was YOU who was no longer into HIM.

Again, I don't blame you for the fact that you no longer wanted to date my son. I blame you for the bullshit way you handled this. Also, if your new relationship doesn't work out, I hope like hell that you don't think Shaggy will be there to be your rebound boy. He deserves better than that.

Sincerely -

Shaggy's Mom who loves him very much!

Lyrics Quiz Missing Answers

2008-05-20T08:32:00.000-07:00

1. There's a shadow just behind me, shrouding every breath I take, making every promise empty, pointing every finger at me.
Tool - Sober - there's something about a chorus of a song that says, "I just want to drink forever" that resonates with me....anyone else????

2. I'm not the one who's so far away when I feel the snakebite enter my veins.
Godsmack - Voodoo I'm half in love with the lead singer...I have a real thing for bad boys!!

3. She gave me her mind then she gave me her body but it seems to be that she gave it to anybody.
AC/DC - The Jack

5. Long before your rusted chains busted walls and barbed wire cage tried to hold me down.
Kenny Wayne Shepherd - Last Goodbye - Have I mentioned my love of the blues? KWS is one of my favorites and this is one of my favorite songs of his.

6. Take me to heart, and I'll always love you. (Several accepted artist for this song!)
Aretha Queen of Soul Franklin - Do Right Woman, Do Right Man - also would have accepted Commitments Soundtrack and Willie Nelson although I truly believe Willie Nelson's singing is an instrument of the Debil! (yes I purposely misspelled that!)

7. I made a promise to myself, locked it away deep down inside my heart.
Dixie Chicks - I Believe In Love - the only country you will find on my Ipod

8. So this ain't the end, I saw you again today.
Heart - Barracuda

9. She keeps her Moet et Chandon in a pretty cabinet.
Queen - Killer Queen

10. Asked sweet mama, let me be her kid.
Led Zep - Travellin Riverside Blues - although Robert Johnson and Eric Clapton would have worked!

11. I'm ever upper class high society, God's gift to ballroom notoriety.
AC/DC - Big Balls - this song ALWAYS makes me giggle....its that whole junior high sense of humor

12. Well I used to wake the morning, before the rooster crowed, searching for soda bottles, get myself some dough.
Lynyrd Skynyrd - Ballad of Curtis Lowe - hands down my favorite Skynyrd tune

13. I look at you and my blood boils hot, I feel my temperature rise.
Kiss - Heaven's On Fire - an homage to Hubby since this is his favorite band

15. I, I'm driving black on black, just got my license back.
Nickelback - Animals - who doesn't love a song about sex in a car?

21. Leaves are falling all around, its time I was on my way. Thanks to you I'm much obliged for such a pleasant stay.
Led Zep - Ramble On

Thanks to all for playing - I will definitely do it again!!!!

Lyrics Quiz

2008-05-14T09:21:00.000-07:00

I saw this (and competed as if it was a gold medal Olympic event) over on Tina's blog and thought, "What a great idea". Then , I feverishly went to work deciphering lyrics so I could win. What? No one wins? Its just for fun? Uh Huh...you just keep believing that. This idea started festering in my head. Wouldn't this make a great weekly feature on my blog? I have enough music to have this run for over a year with no repeats.

Then, the seeds of doubt starting creeping in. What if nobody played? What if my beloved song lyrics sat out there alone and unidentified. I would feel, once again, like the fat kid during a kick ball game. Then, I cried.

Next thing I know, Ms. ~~Reese Witherspoon~~ Sasha did the same quiz. And, she got LOTS of comments. After I picked myself up from the floor and dried the tears that were part of my full fledged tantrum (tantrum because she stole my idea and I was too late to play along and dammit, I MUST WIN!), I decided I was going to play along too. And, if its successful, I want to do it frequently because - well because I love music and it saves me from finding blog material.

So, here are the rules:
1. Put your MP3, IPOD, or other musical device on random.
2. Take the first 25 songs and list the first lyric.
3. Cross out the lyric when identified and be sure to list the correct commenter who got it right.
4. You have to list the first 25 NO MATTER HOW EMBARRASSING and folks, I have some embarrassing shit on my IPOD.

Everybody comfy and ready to play??? Good - lets rock:

1. There's a shadow just behind me, shrouding every breath I take, making every promise empty, pointing every finger at me.
2. I'm not the one who's so far away when I feel the snakebite enter my veins.
3. She gave me her mind then she gave me her body but it seems to be that she gave it to anybody.
4. ~~What would you do if I sang out of tune would you stand up and walk out on me?~~ (Two accepted artist for this song!)Sasha got it! - would have also accepted the Beatles for this one but the version I was listening to was Joe Cocker!!
5. Long before your rusted chains busted walls and barbed wire cage tried to hold me down.
6. Take me to heart, and I'll always love you. (Several accepted artist for this song!)
7. I made a promise to myself, locked it away deep down inside my heart.
8. So this ain't the end, I saw you again today.
9. She keeps her Moet et Chandon in a pretty cabinet.
10. Asked sweet mama, let me be her kid.
11. I'm ever upper class high society, God's gift to ballroom notoriety.
12. Well I used to wake the morning, before the rooster crowed, searching for soda bottles, get myself some dough.
13. I look at you and my blood boils hot, I feel my temperature rise.
14. ~~Desmond has a barrow in the market place, Molly is the singer in a band.~~ Sasha got this one too!
15. I, I'm driving black on black, just got my license back.
16. ~~You got a fast car, I want a ticket to anywhere.~~ The Renee!! Don't you just love Tracy Chapman???
17. ~~Now here's a little story, I've got to tell, about 3 bad brothers you know so well.~~ Sasha AGAIN! I, too, know all the words!!!
18. ~~Working from seven to eleven every night, it really makes life a drag, I don't think that's right.~~ Sasha you are a woman after my own heart since you could identify Since I've Been Lovin You - it is not only my favorite Zepp song but also my yahoo ID!!!
19. ~~You know I'm a dreamer, but my hearts of gold, I had to run away high so I wouldn't come home low.~~ Sasha yep, again! And I do hate hair bands but Hubby's crap is mixed in with mine!!!
20. ~~I took my love and I took it down I climbed a mountain and I turned around.~~ Sasha once more! One of my all time favorite songs.
21. Leaves are falling all around, its time I was on my way. Thanks to you I'm much obliged for such a pleasant stay.
22. ~~There are places I remember all my life, though some have changed. Some forever not for better, some have gone and some remain.~~ Sasha - close enough for me but the actual song title is "In My Life"
23. ~~Dig if you will a picture of you and I engaged in a kiss. The sweat of your body covers me.~~ Sasha again
24. ~~Busted flat in Baton Rouge, waiting for a train. I's feeling near as faded as my jeans.~~ Sasha knows her Janis - I can sing every word to this - which I do, at full volume, and VERY badly!
25. ~~Well I guess it would be nice, if I could touch your body. I know not everybody has a body like yours.~~ Sasha knows her embarrassing George Michael songs! (even though I was listening to the GM version, I would also have accepted Limp Bizkit!

For a lot of these songs, there are multiple artist but the versions I have are probably my the best known artist for the song. Happy Singing!!

PS: lurkers unite and defeat the music Goddess also known as Sasha!!!!

Lost

2008-05-06T12:19:00.001-07:00

One Adult Size Sense of Humor
Owner is very sad and missing this sense of humor.
If found, please return it along with my brain as I know they are hanging out together, probably on a street corner drinking beer and smoking crack

Small Reward Might Be Offered

Shaggy Oh Shaggy

2008-05-06T12:10:00.000-07:00

As previously mentioned, Shaggy has his lisence (and a new used truck sitting in our driveway waiting to be fixed but thats a story for another day). Since then, he's been taking my car. I use the term car loosely here since its a 1993 Mitsubushi Eclipse with a lovely previously salvaged title but hey, the thing runs and it was free. He's been oh so careful to obey the rules of the road - no cell phone usage, home before midnight, no speeding, etc. - that he was SHOCKED when he got pulled over Friday night.

Apparently, the car had a headlight out. Whew...easy fix and only a fix it ticket. Slid right outta that one! So, on Saturday after work, he dutifully goes and buys a bulb and replaces it. Comes home to inform me that the bulb didn't fix the problem. He thinks its a fuse (it was really a relay but in the effort to explain all this to mechanically disinclined mother, he said fuse). Sunday, we head out to our friendly Napa store to get the relay. Find out that:

1. Its a special order part

2. Its over $30

During talking to the guys at Napa, we come up with a few things it might be since they do not think its a relay since the hazards work. Leaving the store, my husband gets the brilliant idea to see if the high beams work (they do). My fix to the whole problem is, just drive with the highs on, they aren't that bright. Hubby's fix? Shhhh don't tell him but it was much smarter than mine - switch out the bulb and see if it was a bad bulb he bought.

We pull out both bulbs and what do we find???? Shaggy bought a high beam bulb and replaced that - not a headlight bulb. Got a new bulb, popped it in, lights work great. And this kid wants to be a mechanic!!!

Why I Suck As a Mother

2008-05-01T10:38:00.000-07:00

Kelly's birthday was Monday - that's right, Monday and here it is, almost a week later and I'm finally doing a birthday post for her. Yeah, I suck! I could pretend that its because she wasn't due until May and therefore I'm early but it really just boils down to I suck. I could say its because I couldn't find a good picture of her but its really because I suck. I could say its because we've been really busy but no, its because I suck.

My little Kelly Jelly Beans turned 13 on Monday. My mind just locks up at the idea of my baby being 13. Its such a milestone for a girl. Officially, no longer a little kid but now a teenager. Whew.

When I was pregnant with Kelly, I hoped and prayed for a little girl. I hoped and prayed for a red headed little girl with chubby cheeks. When she was born, I cried. I would sit for hours and stroke those puffy cheeks of hers. I would stare into her face while she gazed back at me. She was the daughter of my dreams. She still is.

So many memories of Kelly are wrapped around dance. She started dancing at 3 and threw her whole self into it - literally. Once that music started, her little hiney would start shaking just waiting for her cue. She would stand in front of the mirror, the TV, anything reflective to watch herself boogey. She would dance down the hallways. Twirl her way into the kitchen. Tap dance her way to the table for dinner. She was and is my Tiny Dancer who is now turning into the Dancing Queen. I can't hear either of those songs without thinking of my Kelly.

The first year she took real ballet, she stole the show. She was 4. All the little girls in her class were in a line to do their dance, most of them doing whatever step they could remember, not necessarily in the correct place and many of them looking to Kelly for guidance. At the end of the dance, she stood there on the stage looking so proud of herself and basking in the glow of the applause, as if they were all for her. Finally, one of the older dancers had to come out and lead her off the stage because she was holding up not only the next dance but also the rest of the kiddies in her class who were in line after her. To this day, I can still close my eyes and remember the look of sheer pride on her face. I can still remember the tears that I shed during that recital because my baby loved the limelight.

She still dances today. And has every year in between. Hanging in my basement are costumes covered with bags that get progressively larger. I cannot bear to part with them and the memories each costume holds. Now, she is turning into the one of the older girls, the girls she used to watch with wide eyes not being able to wait to reach their level. She is...a dancer, a ballerina.

I remember one year when she danced in the Nutcracker. They had a professional dancer who danced the role of the Sugar Plum Fairy. I saw Kelly speaking to her backstage (she would have been about 5 or 6). I asked her later what she had said to the dancer and her reply was, "I told her she did a good job". That's my Kelly - all the confidence in the world, thinking that her words to a professional dancer would make the dancer's day. I love that about her.

I've sat through every recital, getting choked up at most because of her beauty on stage but also because I know that she didn't have a father there to heap praise on her. I hated that I was the one to give her flowers when it should have been her father.

There is so much more to my Kelly than dance. She's so smart - she is currently applying to join the National Junior Honor Society and she's only in 7th Grade. She's won so many awards in school and I've come to find out she has art talent. She is so many things I'm not and if I could give her the world so that she didn't have to suffer for another day, I would. My little Kelly is going to go far in life (I'm counting on it, she has to take care of me when I'm old :D) and I'll be sure that I'm there for every little milestone she achieves - there have already been many and there are many more to come.

There isn't a day that my heart doesn't swell with pride for her - the daughter of my dreams. She has never done a single thing to make me ashamed of her. She has taught me to receive and give affection freely. She has taught me there is always enough love. She has taught me that softness isn't a weakness.

I love you my Kelly Jelly Beans. You will ALWAYS be my baby no matter what anyone says!

Discipline - Third Child Style

2008-04-23T06:41:00.000-07:00

Our littlest little ~~demon~~ princess is almost 20 months old and we've already determined the following:

1. I was correct on the puberty theory in girls (you can read the theory under the post of Fuck You Hormones)
2. Your third child definitely gets away with more
3. Little kids are funny

We've really been trying to work on discipline with her because....well because she's bad! She's stubborn and determined and like most toddlers, no is her favorite word. Except she really means no. We've already been having some major battle of the wills.

We've been employing the time out method of discipline with her. I've even gone all Nanny Jo on her and give her a warning (If you don't do X, then you will go to time out) and an explaination after the time out. Sure she's sorry when she gets out, but she usually goes right back to doing whatever it was that earned her the time out in the first place.

Saturday took the cake though. There were some boxes of Kleenex on our recliner that Hubby hadn't quite gotten around to putting away. She thought it would be a really fun game to throw them around. I told her no and to pick them up. She looked at me and laughed. Yes, you read that right - laughed. So, I told her that if she didn't pick them up by the time I counted to 3, she was going in time out. She laughed again.

At this point, I was feeling my hairs turning gray.

In an effort to stay consistent, I gritted my teeth and said, "One". Abby's response??? "Two, Free" followed by wild giggling. After I picked my jaw up from the shock that my 19 month old baby knows how to count (to five no less!) I couldn't help but laugh. What are you supposed to do with a child that does their own count down?

She did finally pick up the tissues.

The Streets Are NOT Safe

2008-04-18T07:06:00.000-07:00

If you live in Nebraska or ever intend to be in the vicinity of Nebraska (and come on, who doesn't plan that as the road trip of a life time!?) stay away from our house. The streets of Bellevue, Nebraska are officially no longer safe as my son is the proud new owner of an official driver's license. God Help Us All!

The Curse of the BamGino

2008-04-14T07:18:00.000-07:00

Have I mentioned that I'm a die hard Sox fan? Have I mentioned my hatred of the Yankees? Have I mentioned how much the news story this weekend made me laugh so hard I almost peed my pants?

The Yankees/Red Sox rivalry is one of the oldest and best rivalries in Sports. It is certainly one of the most rabid. The Yankees got to revel in the Curse of the Bambino for 86 years. You know those Yankee fans were cheering and taunting every single time those farking Yankees beat the Sox. Apparently, they cannot take a dose of their own medicine.

In the latest chapter of the rivalry, The Curse of the Jersey (doesn't that sound like a Nancy Drew mystery?), or what I like to call the Curse of the BamGino, a loyal Sox fan got his chance to work some Red Sox Voodoo on those hated Yankees. Mr. Gino Castignoli was working on the new Yankees Stadium and apparently managed to slip a jersey into the building which then got buried in concrete.

This is when things then got interesting and the Yankees became bigger Ass Hats. According to the article, Yankees President Robert Levine had this to say:

"The first thought was, you know, it's never a good thing to be buried in cement when you're in New York," Levine said. "But then we decided, why reward somebody who had really bad motives and was trying to do a really bad thing?"

Are you fucking kidding me? A bad thing? Are these people for real? Now, most people I talked to are not Sox or Yankee fans and they all thought it was extremely funny. And in my defense, I will say that if the shoe was on the other foot, and it was a Yankee jersey buried at Fenway, I'd laugh at that too. Gino's plan was brilliant and totally in line with the whole Sox/Yankees rivalry.

So, Sunday after ~~Ass Hats~~ the Yankees spent 5 hours and God knows how much money to retrieve this "curse", they are now debating whether or not criminal charges will be filed? Do they not realize what morons they are making themselves look like? Do they not realize that they have made our little Sox fan Gino incredibly famous because of all this? If they didn't want to reward his actions, they sure went about it the wrong way.

Tell me, what do you think? Did you find this funny or disrespectful? Do you think the Yankees are right? Are the Yankees taking this too far? Should the shirt have been left (like Hoffa in Giants Stadium)?

For anyone who hasn't read the story and wants to, here is the link you will have to copy and paste since I am too lazy to download the right internet browser for my Mac: http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/2008/baseball/mlb/04/13/curse.foiled.ap/index.html

My Birthday Boy

2008-04-12T15:35:00.000-07:00

Dearest Shaggy -

I cannot believe how quickly the last 17 years have gone. It seems like only yesterday you were still my baby, holding tight to my hand as we walked. Sometimes, I forget that you don't look like this anymore -

and that instead, you are almost a grown man with your whole life ahead of you.

I cannot begin to tell you how proud I am of you. You have overcome much adversity in your life to be a fantastic young man and a wonderful son.

You and I have certainly weathered some "interesting" times.

There was the time you cut the main phone line in an attempt to splice a phone into it since there wasn't a phone jack.

There was the time you got a metal detector and my backyard resembled a mine field with all the holes.

There was the time you got a cordless drill and decided to find what exactly your drill bit would penetrate.

There are the times you brought home lawnmowers and weed eaters because you were sure you could fix them.

There was also a chain saw one time.

There was the time I came home to find a pile of junk in the garage that you had scavenged out of the creek and were determined they were antiques and worth a fortune.

There have been times I've dried your tears because you didn't understand what you did to drive your father away.

There have also been times you've healed my heart just when I didn't think I could go on.

There have been the countless dance recitals that you've been at without complaint because you knew it was important to your sister.

There are the times when I see you hug Abby and realize your heart is soft.

There is the physically disabilities you've overcome with your partial blindness, determined not to let it stop you from fulfilling your dreams.

There are the times that I know I can trust you to be out safe because, in truth, you've never given me a moments doubt.

There are the times you've hustled for odd jobs to get money for whatever it was you wanted because you didn't want to stress me by asking. Somehow, someway, you knew how dire the situation was without any support from your father without me ever saying a word.

From your first faltering steps as a baby to your more secure and confident ones as you turn into a man, I've been there. While my heart breaks that I didn't take the time to enjoy the wonderful amazing gift I was given, it also swells with pride at the adult you are becoming.

You taught me what it means to be a mother, and to some degree, also a father. You taught me what unconditional love it. You taught me unselfishness. You taught me the true meaning of beauty the first time I gazed into your face. You taught me hope. You taught me bravery. You have definitely given more to me than I could ever hope to give to you.

You will always be my firstborn baby - no matter how old or big you get. I love you more today then I did seventeen years ago. I'm proud and honored to be your mother. God was certainly good to me the day he chose me to be your mother.

I love you then, now and always!

Mom

They Say Its Your Birthday....

2008-04-11T05:59:00.000-07:00

Got that Beatles song in your head yet? At any rate, in honor of today being my *gulp* 36th Birthday, I figured I'd try to find 36 things about me that I haven't shared yet.....(bear with me because this could be hard, I'm a sharer after all and I lay out all my weird quirks and embarassing stories just for you my dear readers!)

1. I don't have any tattoos but if I were to get one, I know exactly what I want. I'm too afraid of pain and how it would look when I'm older to get one!

2. I have 5 piercings in my ears.

3. I have oldest child syndrome.

4. I've never broken a bone in my whole life.

5. I hate beans - kidney, lima, and baked. My mom would make homemade baked beans and make me eat them and then get mad when I smothered them with ketchup to drown out the taste.

6. When I was little, I used to run and walk on my tiptoes. My mother was convinced this was going to make me a wonderful ballerina - until she witnessed dance class.

7. As a child, I had the nicknames Radio Lips and Speedy Gonzales - Radio Lips because well, I talked a lot and Speed Gonzales because I ran everywhere.

8. I once almost drowned in a swimming pool. My cousin saved me.

9. I'm a zit picker. I can't help it.

10. I love my son to pieces and at this point in time, he's my favorite. I'm sure this will change but he is the most like me and I think he's wonderful. (Stay tuned for the Shaggy birthday post tomorrow)

11. My feelings get hurt easily and I've been known to cry at the drop of a hat.

12. I don't like to sweat. It makes me feel dirty.

13. I forget just how large my ass is until I catch sight of it in the mirror. I think I'm still the skinny 99 lb girl I was at 18.

14. I want to get plastic surgery on my upper arms because they are nasty but I can't justify the cost and I'm scared of the pain.

15. I'm afraid to die.

16. I'm afraid of wasps - deathly afraid. I will run screaming like all the devils of hell are after me.

17. I can quote just about any line from Raw and Delirious and Friends and somehow fit it into my daily conversations. I then laugh like a lunatic.

18. I love to cook but I cannot bake to save my life.

19. I like my house clean and clutter really makes my butthole pucker. I think I have a small amount of OCD.

20. I can read the same books over and over and still love the story. All of my over 200 books I owe have been read at LEAST twice.

21. I bawl like a baby at the movies: Notting Hill, Pretty Woman, Steel Magnolias, Braveheart, and Mr. Holland's Opus.

22. I'm a sucker for romance. Unfortunately, I didn't marry the most romantic guy on the planet so therefore, I'm often disappointed.

23. Tulips are my favorites flowers and my husband will always send them for Valentine's Day. Sometimes I wish he'd send them for no reason but hey, at least he knows what my favorite flowers are.

24. I love wine. I wish the non alcoholic versions tasted as good because I'm a total lightweight and after a glass or two, I'm feeling it. I don't drink it for the alcohol value but for the taste.

25. I don't really like my brother. I dread when he calls because I don't know how to relate to him or what to say. I'll often let the voicemail pick it up.

26. My favorite thing is to make people laugh. I definitely have class clown syndrome.

27. I'm fairly intelligent but have no degrees to back that up.

28. I've very competitive. I don't like to lose and I get mad when I can't do things well.

29. I was dreading turning 30 but my 30's have been some of my best and worst years - however, they are definitely the years where I managed to find myself again.

30. I'm catholic but I haven't been to church in about 7 years. I really felt let down by God when my life turned to shit but we've since made up and I have daily talks with him. I sometimes miss Church but not the religion aspect.

31. If someone asks me a question, I will search until I find the answer. I can't stand not knowing something.

32. I turned down an appointment to West Point Academy. I still don't regret it.

33. I was top student in Chemisty with a 98% average in High School. I'm a total science geek and I wanted to be a biomedical engineer.

34. I don't regret not getting a college degree - I have my children and that is a bigger accomplishment than any college degree.

35. 7th Grade was a hell year for me - I often had suicial thoughts.

36. I cannot pass a collection box without dropping something in - even if its the last dollar I have til payday. I had a lot of help when I was single and I believe in paying it forward and trying to make a difference because I know what its like.

There you are - 36 totally random facts. These are my birthday present to anyone who reads!

PS - as mentioned above, Shaggy's birthday is tomorrow. He'll be 17. I am not old enough to have a 17 year old!!!

The Best Weekend EVER

2008-04-07T17:44:00.000-07:00

So, in my previous depressing post, I mentioned that Hubby and Baby are out of town. What I didn't mention is, The Queen of All Drama and Shaggy were also out of the house this WHOLE weekend. Yes, folks, you read that right - I had the house to myself for a whole weekend. It was blissful. It was fantastic. It was wonderful. It was so good, I almost don't want them all to come back!

I got to spend 3 nights and 2 days doing whatever I wanted. The freedom. The joy. I could fart at will. I could talk to myself. I could sing loudly and badly. I could dance like Carlton and think I looked great.

About 9 pm on Friday, when I realized I had a whole weekend ahead of just myself, I stood in the middle of the living room and threw my hands in the air and yelled, "FREEEEEEEEEEEEEDOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM". Yep, just like Mel from Braveheart but without all the torture. I spent hours doing what I wanted. They consisted of:

1. Steam Cleaning my carpet in the living room. This was great because I could do it my way without all the ~~hinderance~~ help. I moved furniture (including the entertainment center which almost caused me to poop my pants....that fucker is heavy).

2. Descuzzified my kitchen - including scrubbing down all the cabinets. What's more amazing, the kitchen floor stayed clean ALL weekend. It was amazing. It was a thing of beauty.

3. Removed the drain plug from the bathroom sink and cleaned off accumulated goop (that was the single most disgusting thing ever) and snaked out the drain. Even the pipe sparkles now.

4. Watched approximately 1000 hours of Chick Flicks including: Field of Dreams (is it just me or does that whisper freak anyone else out?), Notting Hill (I'm also just a girl standing in front of a boy asking him to love her....I'm almost crying again now), Dirty Dancing (complete with manic dancing and terrible singing to accompany the movie and cheering loudly at "Nobody puts Baby in the corner") and the General's Daughter (have I mentioned my crush on John Travolta?? OHHHH BABY)

5. Caught up on the 50000000000 hours of CSI Miami I had on the DVR. I've recently discovered this show and love it. I can't watch it with Hubby because he has to mimic Horatio's voice and it makes me giggle.

6. Watched ZERO hours of ESPN, College Basketball, Racing, and Monday Night Raw. Yes, I married a redneck - I'm over it now. Good thing he's cute or he might not have made the cut with his terrible taste in TV. I swear if they made a sport of ants racing up a popsicle stick, he'd watch it.

7. Made Indian food (which in turn gave me gas so this worked out perfectly since Hubby hates Indian and I can't fart in front of him).

8. Lit approximately 3 billion candles over the weekend and had no lights on. So Chicky of me and I loved every second of it.

9. Soaked in the tub with candles, wine and a book with NO ONE standing outside the door to just tell me something or ask if I was almost done.

10. Ok, I can't think of a 10 but the list looked weird ending at 9.

Only 2 more days until chaos returns and brings its buddies, clutter and mess with him.

On a side note, thanks to everyone (all 3 of you) who have commented with your best wishes and also thanks to those of you who read but didn't comment and telecommuted your best wishes for hubby. They truly mean a lot to me and it is great to know there are those out there pulling for us. I'll be sure to keep you all updated on the Great Nut Exam once Hubby returns.

UGH

2008-04-04T11:41:00.000-07:00

How does one begin a post which could change the whole fabric of your being? How does one begin to express the fears, doubts, and worries that have been running rampant in my mind?

My husband uttered five words to me the other day that have the capabilities to shatter my world and heart - "I think the cancer's back". You see, when he was 26, he had testicular cancer. He lost one of his testicles and went through radiation. We've often joked that the radiation created "Super Sperm" since he went on to have two more children. 12 years of being cancer free and now he thinks its come back.

Before I dwell too deeply on my thoughts, we have not had any diagnosis confirmed or denied yet. He left for PA this morning and only discovered the lumps on his other testicle on Thursday. He is going to be heading in to see a urologist when he returns and with a bit of luck, this post will all be for nothing. Keep your fingers crossed, say prayers if you say them, light voodoo candles if that's your thing, whatever your mojo is, please send a little our way until we know for sure.

I wasn't with Don the first time he went through cancer. You see, we are both Second Timers. In spite of how much he annoys me at times, everytime I think of this horrible black cloud looming over us, tears just start welling up in my eyes. I want to throw myself on the floor with all the strength of our baby and beat my fists and scream. I try to bury the idea of cancer in the back of my head, thinking worrying about it isn't going to do any good until we know, but its always right there. Like that annoying tickle in your throat or the feel of a hair on your tongue. You just can't quite get rid of it.

On a more normal Kate note, when he told me about his testicle, I did respond with:

Sure, you mean I got my tubes tied for nothing??!?

Nothing like a little humor to lighten the day.....

Confession Time

2008-03-20T07:30:00.001-07:00

Anyone who has read this (or who actually knows me) will realize that my humor runs along the gutter level. I still giggle widly at the Friends episode where Joey and Rachel laugh through Ross' speech when he says "Homo" and "Erectus". When we package things here at work and talk about putting the tube in the box - I'm the first one to start laughing. When we had a virus on our shop computer and someone said it was a Trojan - fits of giggles. I can talk about sex, pooping, farting, etc. but what I can't do? Fart in front of my husband. The longer I go without doing it, the harder it is becoming. My ass just clenches up.

My husband wouldn't care if I farted. As a matter of fact, after he stopped giggling, he'd probably cheer and grade it. I. JUST. CAN'T. DO. IT. There have bene times I've had to fart and I've attempted to do the Butt Clench Waddle to a different area of the house to release the pressure and he'll follow me. Now, that's not to say I've never farted and here are 3 instances of when I have farted that I fessed up to last night:

1. When Satan Spawn was first born, she came to work with me. One morning as Hubby was driving us down there, a silent one slipped out. To my horror, it stunk. Badly. Hubby looked over at me and asked if I smelled that. Knowing what it was, I had to devise a plan quickly. I innocently sniffed the air and proclaimed that it must have been Satan Spawn with a little gas.

2. One night when we were having ummm....sex.....one slipped out. I was totally thrown off the prize because I was worrying that he'd heard it (it was NOT the silent variety). Luckily, he was a bit too interested in other things and missed that one entirely!

3. Yesterday at work, I had some stinky silent gas. I was working in another area with most of the people I work with and one of those pesky fuckers worked their way past the clenched ass cheeks. Immediately, I was engulfed in a foul odor. I looked over at my boss (aka Satan) and asked her if she smelled that. She sniffed the air and said what does it smell like? I said, Ass. She totally blamed one of the guys working with us.

Of course, as I finished my confession, Hubby was laughing so hard he farted.

Who Needs Drivers Ed?

2008-03-16T12:05:00.000-07:00

I'm sure I've mentioned approximately 1 billion times, that Shaggy is almost 17 (less than one month as he informed me this morning...mental note to self: Easter gifts, Shaggy's Birthday and Drama Queen's 13th Birthday all in the next 4 weeks!) Well, unlike most almost 17 year olds, he does NOT have his driver's lisence. You see, Shaggy is a tad on the disorganized side and it tends to affect his grades at school. In a desperate effort to make him more responsible, I told him that he couldn't get a learner's permit until he kept his grades at a minimum of a C. Therefore, he didn't get a permit until AFTER his 16th birthday. Then, in order to get a driver's lisence, the same provisions applied. So, here we are, less than 4 weeks til his birthday and we are just starting to learn to drive.

Before anyone thinks that I am the most evil mother in the world, let me explain. The kid has 4 classes. That's right, F.O.U.R. They do block scheduling at his school and he has 4 classes each quarter. Each year, only 4 of the 8 classes he takes are academic. For instance, this quarter he is taking: Physics, English, Algebra and career center (auto mechanics). But, last semester, he had: History, career center, ROTC, and CAD. Therefore, maintaining a C average, NOT DIFFICULT!

At any rate, driver's ed is fucking expensive....over $300. Ok, some people may not find that expensive but, hell - I can teach him to drive for free! So, that's what I've been doing. And its been going well. Except.....

Last Sunday we were driving down to my work to stop in to change out some printers. I let him drive. He almost drives like the little old man...you know the one, the one who putters along at exactly 19 miles per hour. We were heading up a large hill that has a stop light at the top. We needed to turn left at the light so, most people know you go up the hill, stop at the light, check for traffic then proceed with your left turn with caution. Unless you are Shaggy that is....

Me: Shaggy, you need to go faster or we won't make it up the hill. Going 9 miles per hour is approximately 16 miles under the speed limit.

Slight jump in speed - up to like 11 miles per hour

Me: Shaggy, go!!!

More significant jump in speed - up to like 20 miles per hour

Me: Shaggy, GO GO GO! The light is green so step on it!

Then, Shaggy stomps on the gas peddle and performs a move I think I saw the General Lee do in the Dukes of Hazards. We get to the top of the hill and he yanks the wheel to the left and takes the turn on 2 wheels leaving a trail of rubber behind us. I was simultaneously trying not to shit my pants and vomit while attempting to scream:

DON'T EVER DO THAT AGAIN!!!

His response???

You said, GO so I went!

Here I Am!

2008-03-05T11:11:00.000-08:00

scene: picture a short red head with huge boobs and enough padding to help qualify her to play the Michelin Man or Stay Puff Marshmallow Man jumping wildly up and down waving her hands

Ewwww - that's quite a visual isn't it???

First off, thanks so much to Sasha and ClemsonGirl for looking for me. They found me buried under a mountain of basketball stuff. Yep, that's right, it's college basketball time and between the NCAA and all the college conferences, we've been buried at work. What stuff do we do, you might be wondering? (Or not wondering but I'm going to tell you anyway so you might as well pretend that you care!) If you've seen a college basketball tournament on TV, we've probably done the decals (stickers for those of you who aren't familiar) for the court. So, next time you are watching your favorite team play in their conference tournament - remember me! Just a couple of more weeks before the flurry settles to a more managable level of craziness and then we get into NBA Playoffs.

So, Phantom. Blah. I was disappointed. As I mentioned, I saw it on the stage in London originally. That was not a touring production so the props, effects, scenery, etc were much better BUT, Kelly loved it and that really was the point of going. The music was great and I left there with the songs buzzing in my head which was great. It was a fun night out so all in all, totally worth it to see the play through Kell's eyes.

My weekend was filled with shit - and yes, I mean that literally! Apparently, we had a city sewer line get blocked and it backed up into MY BASEMENT. There was 6" of, well, to be nice we'll call it water. My house smells like a sewer line. To top it off, my renter's insurance doesn't cover this. On a good note, I called the city and asked who was going to pay for the damages (Shaggy made himself a little living space down there) and they said if we submit a detailed list of damages, they'll submit it to their insurance company. Keep your fingers crossed because he pretty much lost everything!

On a side note, I really need some comments on an issue I've been wrestling with. I've debated about posting this and then decided all the smart and wonderful blog people out there might have some great advice for me. I have a issue I'm really struggling with. My husband pays more attention to the baby than to me. God, that sounds petty even typing it but if anyone has gone through this, they'll understand. Where he used to give me all his attention, now he gives it all to her. She is truly a Daddy's girl and I appreciate that I have a husband who is good with her and willing to do all kinds of things to help but I can't help resenting the fact that I feel like second best. After all, she is going to grow up and leave and then it will be just him and I.

Now that I feel like a complete loser for that.....back to basketball world!

Love Is In The Air

2008-02-14T09:03:00.001-08:00

In light of today being Valentine's Day, its a good reason as any to share my story about my dad that I promised.

First, the background so it all makes sense. My dad married my mom when I was 5. He is not my biological father but he is the father of my heart. He adopted me when I was 7 and made it official. He couldn't get rid of me anymore! He's so wonderful and I am lucky that he loved/loves my mother enough to take the whole package back in 1979. A package that included a VERY spoiled and VERY bratty 5 year old.

My dad joined the military right before he and my mother married. His first duty station was in Abilene, Texas - Dyess AFB for those in the know! He and my mother packed up a U-Haul and started the trek across the country leaving behind all their families and me. I stayed back for a month or so before I had to fly out to join them. It was the first time my mother and I had been seperated but I got to stay with my Nana so I didn't mind so much. I am pretty sure it was harder on her. Apparently, I made many many friends on the flight (hey - I didn't have the nickname of Radio Lips for nothing) and as I got off the plane many of the people were telling me to have fun in Texas. Apparently, as the story goes according to my mom, she was dying to see me and couldn't wait but I was too busy telling all my new friends Good-bye. Once I was done with that, I flew right past her into my dad's arms. My poor mother was broken hearted but I'd already had her for 5 years, I knew she was there to stay!

So, the point of the back story is, my father is awesome to me and this story just illustrates one more way. He adores all his children and grandchildren but he still loves my mom completely. Awwwww...

In 2004, they celebrated their 25th wedding anniversary. They finally had all the kids grown and out of the house. They had some extra money and time in which to finally enjoy themselves. They took a week long trip to NYC. I made them a cool sign to take to the Today show and they made the outside shots several times with their wicked sign but Al never talked to them. During this trip, they had tickets to see Cabaret at the old Studio 54. During this time, John Stamos was acting as the Emcee for the show. I don't know how familiar anyone is with the show Cabaret but its pretty racy. I guess my parents had seats on the floor as if they were actually in the saloon watching the a real Cabaret. Waitresses came around and took drink orders - the whole nine yards. During the course of the show, John Stamos comes down to these tables and goes up to a woman. She had a bottle of wine on the table which he grabs and starts to drink out of and then he takes her on the stage and dances with her. Then, he brings her back to her table, keeps her bottle of wine, then starts prowling through the crowd.

John is standing with his back to my father debating whom to dance with next. He is looking around the table musing aloud whether he should dance with another woman......and then he turns toward my father....and wonders if he should dance with a man. He grabs my father and takes him on stage. They are slow dancing and then John Stamos grabs his butt so my Dad gives him an ass squeeze back. They keep dancing and then my father does the thing that makes this story great - he looks right at John Stamos, says into his microphone, "This is for my wife, Rosemary", grabs John Stamos and kisses him full on the lips! The crowd went wild and to say my father stole the show is an understatement!

They waited outside the theater to get autographs. John signed my father's playbook - Pat, Great Kisses, John Stamos. Then my mother said she couldn't leave without a kiss so she kissed him as well.

The story in itself is great but something happened a few weeks later to make it just that little bit better. John Stamos was being interviewed on Late Night with Carson Daly about his role in Cabaret and he was telling Carson about how racy the show is. Carson had asked him if anything weird had ever happened and John said no BUT he said he did have a guy kiss him. So, he did get indirectly mentioned on Carson and he made out with Uncle Jesse!

Music Of The Night.....

2008-02-08T14:12:00.000-08:00

Have I mentioned my profound love for musicals? No? What a slacker I am!

I caught the Broadway Bug on London's West End when I was 12. We had a school field trip to see "42nd Street". I didn't know what it was but a day out of school in London sounded a bit of ok. It was like one hit of crack - I was hooked. I was fortunate to live in England for 11 years and during that time, I got to see quite a few musicals on the West End. I saw the aforementioned 42nd Street, West Side Story, Cats, and best of all - Phantom of the Opera.

My dad came over to visit (they left England in 1991 and I stayed until 1993) in April of 1993. He informs me that my mom told him he must get tickets to see Phantom since this would be his last chance to see it over in England. I have to admit to some ~~raving~~ mild jealousy until he informed me that I was going along for the show. A. M. A. Z. I. N. G. I got to spend a fabulous day with my father capped off by an amazing performance.

Since returning to the States, my momma has taken me along to see some musicals here. Les Miserable, Fame, Ms. Saigon, and Mama Mia. We took Kelly along to Mama Mia and she caught the bug. To watch a musical through someone else's eyes the first time is like the first Christmas your kids realize what Christmas is about (Presents, duh!) and their eyes light up and their feet dance when they see the loot under the tree. Priceless. Turns out, Phantom is touring here is Omaha and I just proudly purchased 2 tickets to go see it with Kelly.

Can you tell I'm a bit excited? I'm going to be singing like a fool for the next few weeks. It sure helps take the sting out of the Super~~Bowl~~Suck! Fucking Patriots! Also, it reminds me of a great story that I promise to share - it has to do with my parents, New York, and my dad making out with a guy on stage. Stay tuned....

Where The Big Brown Shark Came From

2008-02-01T11:18:00.000-08:00

And Then A Big Brown Shark Came....

2008-01-29T18:06:00.000-08:00

Abby was in the bath the other day and we were having a grand old time. She has these foam bath letters and I was playing the Stick The L On The Baby's Forehead And Laugh Hysterically game. Then it dawned on me. This would make a great blog photo and might finally convince the people from CPS to come and take all the midgies. Score. Two goals accomplished. Have fun at my child's expense - check. Get rid of all these kids so I can live the life of luxury - check.

I managed to pry myself up from the bathroom floor intending to get the camera to perserve this moment of mother daughter bonding. As I stood, Abby stood. I was telling her to sit down. She squatted. I cocked my head to the side and thought, that's different. Then it hit me.

Squatting.

Baby.

No Good.

I asked her what she was doing and as she stood up, I heard it - PLOP PLOP. That's right folks, two turds fell into the bathwater. I started laughing and had to do the cross legged hysteria dance. Then she plopped into the bathwater. Then the turds started floating toward her. Then I called for her father because, ewwwwwwwww - turds with corn in them! Then she started freaking. It was great.

PS: Bonus love to whoever can guess what movie the line's from.

PSS: Yes, 1980 something did call and ask me to stop quoting old ass movie lines.

My Little Rembrandt

2008-01-25T09:49:00.001-08:00

Let me preface this by saying I come from a highly artistic family. My mom is an amazing artist. My dad and brother both sing and play guitar. My sister is an excellent writer. Then there is me. ZERO talent. It somehow skipped right over me. I played clarinet in Jr. High and I'm so tone deaf others had to tune their instruments to mine. I got a D in art class. Total suckage!

Apparently, my little Kelly managed to avoid the I suck at all things art gene and inherited some artistic talent. Now, white girl has NO rhythmn but she can do ballet beautifully. She totally looks like Carlton during Jazz or Tap class (you know, because it requires the rhythmn gene). However, I recently found out that she can draw. Here is her self portrait that was posted on her school website:

If I had to draw this in art class it would have looked like a Picasso picture - lopsided features, weird shapes, etc.

Finally - For Sasha

2008-01-22T17:36:00.000-08:00

Since sweet Sasha has been asking, I finally got a picture of what I wore to the wedding:

L to R: my brother, MOI, the groom, the beautiful bride, and the parentals

I like this shot because it helps hide the extra asses I seem to have!

Answers Updated

2008-01-21T08:05:00.000-08:00

Yayyyyy - I got another question from the lovely and inspiring Deb over at missivefromsuburbia.blogspot.com (yeah, so much easier to type in the url instead of the link thing! I promise that I'll get Firefox one of these days because my posts look like they have multiple personality disorder with some being all type and some having the pretty effects! Just call my blog Britney, bitch)

Deb asked me what it was like being a stepmother and if I was worried about it before we got married?

I'll answer the easy part first. I wasn't worried about it before we got married because I'd already had a taste of it prior to that time. Hubby and I tied the knot on 7.25.06. I knew going in that I was marrying him and all his baggage...there were no blinders, there were no rose tinted glasses. I already knew the ugly naked truth.

Now, that being said, being a stepmother is like shoving toothpicks into your veins. Painful and something you realize quickly you don't want to do! Now, before anyone freaks out, I know there are some stepfamilies that get along just fine and everything is hunky dory (ie: Hubby and my kids) but Deb asked ME what it was like so I'm answering from my perspective.

Hubby's oldest son lived with us from August of 06 to July of 07. Every single day was pure hell. Hubby and I were at each other's throats and the house had a general air of noone wanting to be there. This year is how I knew my marriage would last - if we can make it through that year, we are good to go!

You see, Hubby's children - particularly his oldest - weren't happy with the parent's split. Oldest wanted his parent's back together and asked several times why this couldn't happen, even while Hubby and I were living together, engaged, and pregnant. His general attitude toward me was - you are nothing more than my dad's girlfriend and I will not listen to a thing you say. He broke/bucked every rule we had in place. He wanted to go home to his mother (who lives in PA - hence all the references to Hubby's trips there) by Christmas but Hubby made him finish out the year. Stepson decided that he would do everything in his power to make us regret that decision.

Both of his children live in an environment without a lot of discipline or follow through. They aren't used to rules and regulations. They don't like my house. They don't like me.

So, after our year of hell, I had to figure out how to make things enjoyable when they come to visit. Afterall, they are Hubby's flesh and blood and I want their time with us to be spent as pleasantly as possible. Last summer when they flew out, I had a long talk with Hubby and explained to him the things that make me crazy - mostly coming home to find my house trashed and every rule we have in place ignored. I made sure that he was the first one home. I found errands to run and people to see. I would get home around 6 or 7 each night which gave Hubby time to get things returned to normal and spend more quality time with the boys.

You know what? The visit was actually pleasant. I found that since I was able to nag less, Hubby was more willing to step up to the plate and make sure rules were enforced. Because I could see him taking care of issues, I became less bitchy and more willing to be home.

The short answer is: being a step parent is just that. If there are two parents who are involved (involved being the key word), your place will never be anything more than as dad's wife or mom's husband. Once you can accept that and let go, being a step parent is not to terrible.

Disclaimer: this is written purely from my own perspective of what I have dealt with. It is not meant to be construed as expert advice or a definite of example of what having step kids is like. My own husband's perspective on this would be much different than mine. Obviously, specific examples of issues have not been disclosed since I don't want Hubby thinking all I do is bash his kids or his ex-wife. As far as the ex wife goes, I could fill a post but since she's not my ex, I will refrain for Hubby's sake. That doesn't mean its not open season on my ex! Also, if anyone has any great tips on dealing with steppies, I would love to hear them!!!

Fuck You Hormones

2008-01-17T08:57:00.000-08:00

Anyone who has seen the movie, "Knocked Up", will totally get the title. Oh wait, that makes it sound like I'm leading in to tell everyone I'm pregnant, doesn't it? Am I? Holy Shit.

Nah, I had the plumbing welded closed when the baby was born. I don't want any more surprise, thankyouverymuch! Especially after the last few days with the Queen of Hormones. Is that me, you ask? No, it sure as hell isn't. My daughter, Kelly, can make my PMS look like a day at the park. Now, I totally understand why children don't come with instruction manuals. Its for people like me who would immediately start flipping through until something caught their eye. I'm telling you, if I read the chapter in the imaginary Childrearing for Dummies book on puberty, I would have taken Kelly back for a full refund before the 30 days expired. Or traded her in for the male model.

Those of you with daughters under the age of 3, AVERT YOUR EYES NOW. Do it quickly. This top secret classified information is guaranteed to scar you and scare you.

I have a theory. Puberty in girls begins at birth. Its not really noticable until they begin to speak coherently. Its like a preface of what is to come. However, at that age, they are still so cute that you are lulled by a false sense of security. The mini tantrums, the stubborness, the testing of authority, they are usually attributed to Terrible Twos. That lets us mom's believe there is an end in site. YOU ARE BEING FOOLED! There is no end in site. It is not Terrible Twos, Threes, Ferocious Fours or any other cute name you can come up with. It's puberty. And it only gets worse. Horribly, terribly, scarily worse.

I remember a cute day when my little angel was about 2.5 or 3. I had just finished getting her dressed and fixing her hair when she started wailing. Mildly disturbed, I asked her what was wrong. Her answer? Her hair things didn't match her outfit. I should have run like hell at that point. Run and never looked back. Instead, I found the story mildly amusing. "Awww, isn't it cute that she likes to match?" NO, the correct answer is NO, it isn't cute...its scarey and its your first dose of things to come. If your precious little daughter has done something along these lines - this is your warning. GET OUT.

Now, my cute and darling little girl is almost 13. The last year has been hell. The tears shed for no reason. The attitude dished out. The blatant disregard for rules. The tone of voice when speaking to me. The looks of "Don't close your eyes to go to sleep tonight, Bitch" (ok, that might be on both our sides!) H. E. L. L. Nothing in life can prepare you for this. NOTHING. I don't care if you labored without drugs for 36 hours and delivered a 10 lb baby with a 3rd degree tear up to your poop chute. That's a breeze compared to what's coming.

I know some of you are reading and thinking I'm exaggerating. Let me give you some recent examples:

1. Copious amounts of tears shed because her plate fell on the floor and then full blown sobbing because when she was picking up the destroyed dinner, the knife fell and knocked her glass over. Gotta admit, I laughed which didn't help things.

2. Copious tears shed because her brother laughed when she fell off her chair.

3. Copious tears shed because her hair won't go the way she wants.

4. Copious tears shed because her brother told her she wouldn't be the baby anymore while I was pregnant.

5. Copious tears shed because she got yelled at for spilling hot chocolate in the living room because she didn't think it was her fault even though there aren't supposed to be drinks taken outside the kitchen for just this reason. Apparently, it was Sean's fault because he was throwing Abby's Pooh at her...although when she was telling the story I thought she literally meant Sean was throwing POO at her.

Its a wonder the child doesn't suffer from dehydration.

When she's not crying or wailing or moaning, she's not speaking to me. Literally. I will ask her questions and she will not answer. She won't look at me. She won't even twitch to show she heard me. It makes me want to put her over my knee and paddle her ass.

I know mothers and daughters make it through this. I survived. However, I'm thinking it's only by a thin margin that mothers don't kill their daughters. Maybe that's what materal instinct really is. Lucky Lucky Me, I get to do it all over again. Damn pregnancy hormones that had me longing for another little girl!

For any mothers that have made it through, how did you do it? Did you lock her in her room? Gag her? Drink a lot to get through?

Answers

2008-01-15T06:33:00.000-08:00

So, after a dismal showing on my brilliant brain flash of ask me any questions - here are the answers for 2 of my favorite girls who asked:

Tina* asked - how did I meet my hubby and was it love at first site:

Funny story here Tina. After my divorce in 2000, I started going back to school. As part of my great financial aid package, I qualified for student loans so I decided to purchase my first my first computer complete with internet. At the time, I found this great game for a complete ~~dork~~ music buff like me - Rock N Roll Jeopardy (yes, a computerized version of the TV show from VH-1). Fast forward a year or so. I had to discontinue with school because it was too much while raising the kidlets and working full time and the kidlets needed me around. Viola - I still had this shiny new computer and access to this game. THEN a miracle occurred. I found out it had a chat room. For a bored, lonely, single women who no longer had any real adult interaction - this was a gold mine. I actually met Hubby's then wife first. I spent a lot of time listening to her bitch about what a shitty guy he was, how she was leaving him, etc all while watching her make several online connections. I knew who her/my hubby was but I never really talked to him. I wasn't into messing with married men and I wasn't really looking for an online connection - just friendship. Fast forward again about a year or so and Hubby finally found out what was going on with the ex. He also knew who I was and what I had been through and we started talking about coping with divorce and life after divorce, etc. One thing led to another and one night I was pretty upset about the fact that I wasn't ever going to find anyone who was interested in me and he said, "There is someone". I replied, "Who?". He replied, "Me." After I was able to pick my jaw up from the desk, I was totally flattered (he was the type online to only let people in so far and kept everyone at arm's length). One thing led to another and we spent every spare minute at home talking through IM or on the phone (this started in October) and we finally met in January.

So to answer your question, I met my Hubby online and yes, it was love at first sight since we had a few months to develop our relationship before ever meeting. Now, neither of us hardly ever get online and it's still love at first sight every day when I see him!

Sasha* asked:

1. What did I wear to the wedding: I can't find a decent picture on our camera's that show me - lots of me looking very drunk and goofy but no good ones of my dress. I'll try to take a picture of the dress tonight and also post some of me dancing so you can see how it looks like I stuffed two fighting cats into the ass end of my pantyhose while I dance!

2. All time favorite cocktail: I don't really have one as I rarely drink hard liquor but when I do, I like a good margarita or a good cosmo. I usually just drink wine.

3. All time favorite song: Whiter Shade of Pale by Procul Harum. Hands Down my favorite. In close running is: Just The Way You Are by Billy Joel, Wonderful World by Satchmo (Louis Armstrong), How Great Thou Art (thanks, Nana!! that ones for you), Since I've Been Loving You by Led Zeppelin, Ballad of Curtis Lowe by Skynard....this list could get really long so I'll leave it there.

4. Book? Holy cow, that's a toughie since I own over 200 books but I'd have to say its not just one book, its a series. The Dark Tower series by Stephen King. I can lose myself in Roland's world and everytime I read them, I fall a little more in love with Roland. Guess I like the bad boys! My favorite book as a child was, Grover's Book of Everything or something like that - its Grover going through a museum and each room is full of objects that are the same. That and the Richard Scary books.

5. Do I like Reality TV? Hmmmm, lets see if I can answer this - my TV schedule revolves around these shows at the moment: Amazing Race, Biggest Loser, Celebrity Rehab, LA Ink, Intervention. So, yes, I do like reality TV but not all of it. I'm also addicted to documentaries - like on Court TV, A&E, Discovery Health, TLC, and MSNBC. I'm not a huge fan of things like Survivor (although I used to be, I'm just a tad bit tired of it), Scott Baio shows, Flavor Flav shows. I have to admit to watching a Very Brady Wedding though (or whatever that was called).

*Safari won't let me do links and I'm too lazy to download Firefox at work so if you want to see these ladies great blogs, check out the blog roll.

On the strange off chance that anyone else asks any questions, I will add them here! Thanks again for playing ladies!

Ask Me....I Dare You

2008-01-14T06:48:00.001-08:00

For the last 60 posts or so, I have been telling the cyber world all I want them to know about me. Apparently, I'm really boring because I've had a sad lack of material lately and I can't even say its because I was busy at work. This should make me reevaluate my life and determine that I should do more for mankind. So, along those lines, I'm turning this over to you guys. This is your chance. We've all done the thousands of MeMe's but you know when you read someone's blog for so long, you have questions you want answered. In short, its like you are reading someone's diary but since its their diary, they already know the details and you feel like you're missing part of the story.

This little exercise has several advantages:

1. Blog Material
2. (Hopefully) more comments
3. Ummm....ok, there are only 2 advantages but hey, they are good ones!

Now is your chance....ask away. I promise no question will be off limits (hell, has anything been off limits here???) I promise to answer them all. Those of you who are reading and not commenting, this is your chance. Come to the dark side and join me!

Disclaimer: it will really hurt my feelings if noone asks me any questions so, don't make me get my multiple personalities out and sign them up to blogger just so it makes it look like I have readers...that strategy didn't work for me in school and I doubt it will work for me here. I really don't want to look ~~more~~ pathetic!

Where Have I Been?

2008-01-08T06:39:00.000-08:00

Couple of updates for those who have been anxiously waiting (all...ummm... zero of you). It has been a crazy crazy week!

The big wedding was Saturday. I looked ~~really nice~~ freaking hot if I say so myself! The wedding was beautiful. I promise to post pictures as soon as I can find some that I don't totally look freaking bombed in since I wouldn't want to shatter my well developed illusion of being a nice, sweet, wholesome girl. Oh yeah, did I mention? I got completely hammered...falling down, throwing up, wishing I would die drunk. NOT. PRETTY. I haven't been like that in years. I'm a total lightweight and usually one glass of wine is more than sufficient. I'm pretty sure I drank the equivalent of at least a bottle over the course of the night. A great time was had however - at least until the next day.

I'm sure I mentioned this but my sister's best friend for the last 15 years or so married them. She wrote the whole ceremony and it was moving, touching, emotional, and downright beautiful. My sister looked gorgeous - as I expected. It was a great but intimate party and just perfect for her. I couldn't be happier.

What I'm not sure I mentioned is, my baby sister is my hero. She is beautiful, smart, and so accomplished. She has a man who adores the ground she walks on and we all love him. My heart was just filled with joy for her - for this wonderful person who has been in my life for 28 years and left her footprints on every inch of my soul. (Dammit, I'm getting all teary eyed just typing this!). She has held my hand at my darkest times. She has dried my tears. She has been the shoulder I've leaned on. She has been the first one I tell my news to, both the good and the bad. She has the ears that have listened, the words that have healed, and a heart that has broken with mine. She has never asked anything in return, instead, just being there when I've needed her. My sister has the rare combination of both inner and outer beauty and to see her just glow with happiness has been the best gift I could receive. Ok, moving on before I dissolve into a complete puddle of mush!

Some of my dad's family came in from RI and it was great to have them there. His brother got married in 1986 and his sister got married in 1978 and to this day, they are still so in love with their spouses. It was so awesome to see. They still kiss and hold hands and hug each other. It was just a great weekend for love!

On the total other hand, my items I ordered for the boudoir came in but I can't test them until the Red Sea departs! I will be sure to give you my take on them - I ordered a couple of the things that Ashley suggested (the heart massager, the candle) and a few things she didn't!

Me Birthday MEME

2008-01-02T12:34:00.000-08:00

The Birth Month Meme lists a bunch of traits for each birth month and you are supposed to see which ones are so you. The rules for this meme are…copy and paste the 12 months and their characteristics, highlight the traits that are yours and, make some snide comment about it, or you can be serious too, whatever flips your skirt. Then tag 12 of your closest and dearest friends…or, just randomly pick 12 blogs. Or, if you are me, you will just leave it open for whomever wants to do it...

Now, back to me:

I'm an April baby so lets see how I measure up to my month -

Active: Yeah, I don't think I'd look like I stuff a Goodyear down my pants if I was active

Decisive and hasty but tends to regret: Hellooooo I'm on my second marriage...that should say it all

Attractive and affectionate to oneself: If you've been reading, you'll know that I'm VERY affectionate to myself!

Loves attention: Again...I'm the original comment whore. 'Nuff Said.

Diplomatic: Not so much - if I had a trace of diplomacy, I sure as hell wouldn't share things about itchy buttholes or tendency to fall asleep using toys.

Brave and fearless: see above

Yeah, the rest of these are so much NOT me that I think I'm just going to read each month and pick out the traits I like....I mean, really, for April it says sexy in a way only their lover can see? That's just wrong.

So, here is my new list of traits. Since I'm taking them from each month of the year, I wonder if that makes me a Calendar Girl....

January: Sensitive and has deep thoughts - just call me Jack Handy

February: Intelligent and Clever. Attractive. Sexy.

March: Attractive personality. Sexy. Affectionate.

May: Attracts others and loves attention. Deep feelings. Beautiful physically and mentally.

June: Funny and humorous. Loves to joke. Good debating skills. Talkative. Daydreamer. Friendly. Knows how to make friends.

July: Fun to be with. Witty and sparkly.

August: Loves to joke. Attractive. Suave and caring. Brave and fearless. Firm and has leadership qualities.

September: Good Lord, September's a more sucky month than April.

October: Loves to chat. Loves those who loves them. Loves to take things at the center. Inner and physical beauty.

November: Yeah, add November to the month of sucky qualities!

December: Loyal and generous. Sexy

There you have it - the qualities of me by the months of the year! Damn I'm awesome!!!!

JANUARY: Stubborn and hard-hearted. Ambitious and serious. Loves to teach and be taught. Always looking at people’s flaws and weaknesses. Likes to criticize. Hardworking and productive. Smart, neat and organized. Sensitive and has deep thoughts. Knows how to make others happy. Quiet unless excited or tensed. Rather reserved. Highly attentive. Resistant to illnesses but prone to colds. Romantic but has difficulties expressing love. Loves children. Loyal. Has great social abilities yet easily jealous. Very stubborn and money cautious.

FEBRUARY: Abstract thoughts. Loves reality and abstract. Intelligent and clever. Changing personality. Attractive. Sexy. Temperamental. Quiet, shy and humble. Honest and loyal. Determined to reach goals. Loves freedom. Rebellious when restricted. Loves aggressiveness. Too sensitive and easily hurt. Gets angry really easily but does not show it. Dislikes unnecessary things. Loves making friends but rarely shows it. Daring and stubborn. Ambitious. Realizes dreams and hopes. Sharp. Loves entertainment and leisure. Romantic on the inside not outside. Superstitious and ludicrous. Spendthrift. Tries to learn to show emotions.

MARCH: Attractive personality. Sexy. Affectionate. Shy and reserved. Secretive. Naturally honest, generous and sympathetic. Loves peace and serenity. Sensitive to others. Loves to serve others. Easily angered. Trustworthy. Appreciative and returns kindness. Observant and assesses others. Revengeful. Loves to dream and fantasize. Loves traveling. Loves attention. Hasty decisions in choosing partners. Loves home decors. Musically talented. Loves special things. Moody.

APRIL: Active and dynamic. Decisive and hasty but tends to regret. Attractive and affectionate to oneself. Strong mentality. Loves attention. Diplomatic. Consoling, friendly and solves people’s problems. Brave and fearless. Adventurous. Loving and caring. Suave and generous. Emotional. Aggressive. Hasty. Good memory. Moving. Motivates oneself and others. Sickness usually of the head and chest. Sexy in a way that only their lover can see.

MAY: Stubborn and hard-hearted. Strong-willed and highly motivated. Sharp thoughts. Easily angered. Attracts others and loves attention. Deep feelings. Beautiful physically and mentally. Firm Standpoint. Needs no motivation. Easily consoled. Systematic (left brain). Loves to dream. Strong clairvoyance. Understanding. Sickness usually in the ear and neck. Good imagination. Good physical. Weak breathing. Loves literature and the arts. Loves traveling. Dislike being at home. Restless. Not having many children. Hardworking. High spirited. Spendthrift.

JUNE: Thinks far with vision. Easily influenced by kindness. Polite and soft-spoken. Having ideas. Sensitive. Active mind. Hesitating, tends to delay. Choosy and always wants the best. Temperamental. Funny and humorous. Loves to joke. Good debating skills. Talkative. Daydreamer. Friendly. Knows how to make friends. Able to show character. Easily hurt. Prone to getting colds. Loves to dress up. Easily bored. Fussy. Seldom shows emotions. Takes time to recover when hurt. Brand conscious. Executive. Stubborn.

JULY: Fun to be with. Secretive. Difficult to fathom and to be understood. Quiet unless excited or tensed. Takes pride in oneself. Has reputation. Easily consoled. Honest. Concerned about people’s feelings. Tactful. Friendly. Approachable. Emotional temperamental and unpredictable. Moody and easily hurt. Witty and sparkly. Not revengeful. Forgiving but never forgets. Dislikes nonsensical and unnecessary things. Guides others physically and mentally. Sensitive and forms impressions carefully. Caring and loving. Treats others equally. Strong sense of sympathy. Wary and sharp. Judges people through observations. Hardworking. No difficulties in studying. Loves to be alone. Always broods about the past and the old friends. Likes to be quiet. Homely person. Waits for friends. Never looks for friends. Not aggressive unless provoked. Prone to having stomach and dieting problems. Loves to be loved. Easily hurt but takes long to recover.

AUGUST: Loves to joke. Attractive. Suave and caring. Brave and fearless. Firm and has leadership qualities. Knows how to console others. Too generous and egoistic. Takes high pride in oneself. Thirsty for praises. Extraordinary spirit. Easily angered. Angry when provoked. Easily jealous. Observant. Careful and cautious. Thinks quickly. Independent thoughts. Loves to lead and to be led. Loves to dream. Talented in the arts, music and defense. Sensitive but not petty. Poor resistance against illnesses. Learns to relax. Hasty and trusty. Romantic. Loving and caring. Loves to make friends.

SEPTEMBER: Suave and compromising. Careful, cautious and organized. Likes to point out people’s mistakes. Likes to criticize. Stubborn. Quiet but able to talk well. Calm and cool. Kind and sympathetic. Concerned and detailed. Loyal but not always honest. Does work well. Very confident. Sensitive. Good memory. Clever and knowledgeable. Loves to look for information. Must control oneself when criticizing. Able to motivate oneself. Understanding. Fun to be around. Secretive. Loves leisure and traveling. Hardly shows emotions. Tends to bottle up feelings. Very choosy, especially in relationships. Systematic.

OCTOBER: Loves to chat. Loves those who loves them. Loves to take things at the center. Inner and physical beauty. Lies but doesn’t pretend. Gets angry often. Treats friends importantly. Always making friends. Easily hurt but recovers easily. Daydreamer. Opinionated. Does not care of what others think. Emotional. Decisive. Strong clairvoyance. Loves to travel, the arts and literature. Touchy and easily jealous. Concerned. Loves outdoors. Just and fair. Spendthrift. Easily influenced. Easily loses confidence. Loves children.

NOVEMBER: Has a lot of ideas. Difficult to fathom. Thinks forward. Unique and brilliant. Extraordinary ideas. Sharp thinking. Fine and strong clairvoyance. Can become good doctors. Dynamic in personality. Secretive. Inquisitive. Knows how to dig secrets. Always thinking. Less talkative but amiable. Brave and generous. Patient. Stubborn and hard-hearted. If there is a will, there is a way. Determined. Never give up. Hardly becomes angry unless provoked. Loves to be alone. Thinks differently from others. Sharp-minded. Motivates oneself. Does not appreciate praises. High-spirited. Well-built and tough. Deep love and emotions. Romantic. Uncertain in relationships. Homely. Hardworking. High abilities. Trustworthy. Honest and keeps secrets. Not able to control emotions. Unpredictable.

DECEMBER: Loyal and generous. Sexy. Patriotic. Active in games and interactions. Impatient and hasty. Ambitious. Influential in organizations. Fun to be with. Loves to socialize. Loves praises. Loves attention. Loves to be loved. Honest and trustworthy. Not pretending. Short tempered. Changing personality. Not egotistic. Take high pride in oneself. Hates restrictions. Loves to joke. Good sense of humor. Logical.

Conversations With Shaggy

2007-12-26T17:46:00.000-08:00

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....

2007-12-24T17:38:00.000-08:00

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

2007-12-19T08:58:00.000-08:00

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

2007-12-19T06:49:00.000-08:00

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

2007-12-13T06:54:00.000-08:00

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

2007-12-07T09:08:00.000-08:00

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

2007-12-05T17:28:00.001-08:00

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...

2007-12-05T10:04:00.001-08:00

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

2007-12-05T09:56:00.000-08:00

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

2007-12-03T13:23:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-30T18:29:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-29T17:53:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-27T08:45:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-18T19:16:00.000-08:00

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....

2007-11-15T19:45:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-10T21:48:00.000-08:00

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???

2007-11-07T14:00:00.001-08:00

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!

2007-11-05T15:44:00.001-08:00

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

2007-11-03T20:25:00.000-07:00

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....

2007-11-02T20:52:00.000-07:00

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

2007-10-30T17:56:00.000-07:00

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

2007-10-29T15:53:00.000-07:00

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!

2007-10-29T15:16:00.000-07:00

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

2007-10-27T18:24:00.000-07:00

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

2007-10-25T18:51:00.000-07:00

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

2007-10-22T08:20:00.000-07:00

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

2007-10-21T11:41:00.000-07:00

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

2007-10-18T11:12:00.000-07:00

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

2007-10-16T19:28:00.000-07:00

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

2007-10-13T19:20:00.000-07:00

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

2007-10-12T13:37:00.000-07:00

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

2007-10-11T17:28:00.000-07:00

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

2007-10-11T06:23:00.000-07:00

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

2007-10-09T20:05:00.000-07:00

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

2007-10-09T16:14:00.001-07:00

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

Man Tag

2007-10-09T09:29:00.001-07:00

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

2007-10-08T16:27:00.000-07:00

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....

2007-10-08T11:49:00.000-07:00

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???

2007-10-06T18:15:00.000-07:00

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

Mama's Little Boy (Part 2)

2007-10-05T20:48:00.001-07:00

I love my son to pieces...he is truly a wonderful person and a great kid. I'm gonna have to have a talk with him about how it is more normal for teenagers to get in trouble, not be all good and shit (just kidding!!!) This is how my Seany Boy looks now. Homecoming's next weekend and he's getting a true metrosexual makeover for the big event. Which is a good thing seeing as he truly resembles Shaggy. For posterity's sake, I'm posting this as the "before". I'm sure I'll have loads of "after" to post after next Saturday. Seriously, how did my genes manage to create such a cutie pie????

By the way, these were both taking by him, he has a strange fetish for self portraits.

Why I Am The Way I Am

2007-10-05T14:01:00.000-07:00

Lately I've become a bit concerned over the tone of my posts...wondering if they were too much. After some soul searching, I came to realize that my posts perfectly reflect who I am. However, I forget that people who read this don't know me. They don't know my inability to control my mouth. They don't know that I tend to say exactly what is on my mind when it is on my mind. They don't know that I giggle like a little kid at words like box, balls, shaft, etc. What they see on here is a freak (which I am) with little to no social graces (guilty as charged). In short, what you see, or read, is what you get. I make no apologies for my crassness or inappropriatenss. These are my thoughts, exactly as they come into my mind.

However, it has led to some reflection on how exactly I became the way I am. Sarcasm was a way of life in my family. You better know how to come up with a good come back or you will be eaten alive by the sharks in my family. We show our love in zingers and put downs. Practical jokes and an ability to push each other to the limit are every day ways of life.

One memorable occassion occurred when I was about 13. They were painting the base gym and had spent days peeling off the old paint...the old BROWN paint. It was that style of paint that is like plastic. They GI's thought it would be hysterical to shape this paint like a giant turd and leave it in the shower of the gym. Juvenille humor at its best. My dad thought this was the best thing ever and quickly appropriated the fake turd for his own personal use.

At the time, my brother (3) and sister (5) were sick with chicken pox and were often given cornstarch baths together. On this particular night, my father carefully placed the fake turd in the tub, knowing I was getting ready for my shower, and took up position in his bedroom to watch the show. I unsuspectedly enter the bathroom, pull back the shower curtain and prepare for my shower. My father is anxiously waiting for me to discover the turd. Finally, I turn and look into the shower. At the sound of my loud screech, my father comes running. I indignantly point into the tub and make sounds of disgust. I should have known what was up when my father could barely get out the words, maybe E or P had an accident. He's choking on his own laughter. I'm so grossed out I don't pick up on this. My father instructs me that I need to remove the turd from the tub. Of course, my response is an emphatic NO. Remember, I'm 13..sullen and owly but still prone to obeying. After much back and forth, and a flood of tears from me, I stomp over and get about 10 faceclothes, grab the paint turd and with a large PLOP deposit it in the toilet. I'm bawling by the fact that I was forced to perform this disgusting task. Again, I should have known that (A) my mother would never have left a large turd in the tub and (B) no turd is so perfectly shaped. At this point, my dad is crying just as hard as I am, but his are tears of laughter since I've now dropped the turd into the toilet. All I can say is, he's fucking lucky I didn't try to flush!

So, now perhaps you understand why I am the way I am...the blame belongs squarely with my parents. Freaks that they are. My only hope is, I can be just like them!

What A Freakin Day

2007-10-03T18:24:00.000-07:00

Today was officially the day from HELL. Its almost 8:30 and I'm FINALLY home.

It started this morning when the alarm started blaring at 5:30 am. I normally ignore it for at least a half hour but I had to get up and take Hubby and Abby to the airport. Yes, you read that correctly, airport and ass crack of dawn. I managed to stumble out of bed, pull on some sweats and a Boston hat, brush my teeth and get in the car. Then some bald weeble wobble freak at the airport, who was also missing approximately 75% of his teeth, decided that it would be good to stutter out some conversation as I was leaving. I was tired, bummed to not be going, and facing a day at work....I'm sure my glare of death translated into "Fuck Off Weeble" because he quickly turned and scurried off. Good deed 1 for the day accomplished.

I got home in time to shower and turn around and leave for work. That whole getting dressed thing didn't work out so sweet for me this morning. I must be bloated because my jeans fit like my lower body was sausage meat and they were the casing. By the time I got to work, I felt like my belly button was being forced out my ass - and not in a good way. I'm sure its bloating because it couldn't be that I now qualify for a contestant on The Biggest Loser.

Work was a bitch. We are busy as an Irishman at a bar during Happy Hour (and yes, I'm fecking ethnically qualified to make Irish jokes). I barely had time to fart all day which wasn't helping with this whole bloat thing. Before I knew it, it was 4:30 and time to go...

Which normally is a good thing. Except for the fact that Hubby is now all comfy at his folks house in Philly which left me to do the running. (ok, so he's probably not real comfy as he had to fly from Omaha to Philly with Abby ON HIS LAP. He hasn't called yet and I'm scared to call him in case he's sitting in a pile of his own drool). At any rate, moving back to more important things (ME), I get home pick up the dancer and the scruffy one. Drop the dancer at dance and have freedom to run until 7:45.

Scruffy One and I make a run to our local Indian grocery store for all my supplies. With Hubby out of town, I get to indulge myself in an Indian Feast (remind me to kick my own ass later because it would have been easier, cheaper, and a lot less work to just go to our local Indian restaurant and buy the beforementioned fucking feast. I think I'm a glutton....for punishment that is). Then to the grocery store and gas station before circling back to where I started to pick up the dancer.

I did get home to find out my Sox kicked the shit out of the Angels so that helps. I now have until Sunday to enjoy some time without Abby but I'm running all the fuck over the next few days. I think by the time I pick them up on Sunday night, I'll be sitting in a pile of my own drool.

ETA: Ok, I came back to edit this because I forgot something but I think I have dementia because I can't freaking remember what it was....

Are You Ready For Some Baseball???

2007-10-02T11:19:00.001-07:00

It's October. The time of change. Kids are settled back into school, the weather is turning, time to drag out all the clothes that probably no longer fit (don't even ask how the diet is going because, well, its NOT). Its also time for postseason baseball. Since my beloved BoSox are in, I'm a happy girl. Til I remembered, shit, the husband.

My husband is a sports freak. Well, he's also just a freak but for the sake of this, we'll leave it at sports freak. He would probably watch log throwing if there weren't any other sports on ESPN. Its like his drug. He gets all comfy on the couch and holds the remote in a death grip. Believe me when I say death grip, I've tried to pry it out of his hand. Its a sad sight to watch.

Back to baseball...yayyy the Sox. Now, I'd be content to just watch them play. I don't have to watch every game and then the highlights on ESPN. I don't care. I just want to see my Sox. But, the hubby? He will have to watch EVERY game, especially now that the Phillies are in. Yeah, he's a Philly sports fan....my only small satisfaction that comes out of this is that my Pats beat his Eagles in the Superbowl. When the games are on during the weekend, I'll be anxiously watching to see if his head explodes trying to decide between baseball, football, racing, etc. If he only drank, I'd send him to a sports bar.

The watching sports thing doesn't really bother me because if I really want to watch TV, he'll go watch his crap, I mean sports, in the bedroom. However, his sports obsession does lead to some quirks:

*He gets claw hand from gripping the remote so tightly. I think there is an imprint on his palm that has the serial number from the remote
*He talks to the game. No matter how often I remind him that no matter how LOUDLY he talks, they can't hear him, he still feels the need to chime in his 2 cents on whatever the issue is. He's a couch referee, couch coach, and couch player all rolled into one.
*He gets selective hearing. He has this often but it is especially bad when sports are on. I could stand in front of him buck ass naked and say lets get busy and he'd just lean around me to get a better view of the TV. Now, the selective hearing thing is a big irritant (you reading this my darlin????) When I ask you a question, don't ignore me. When I'm talking to you, don't pretend you are listening until some key point catches your attention and then say, "Now, what was that?". Furthermore, don't get all pissy that you aren't told anything when very often, you are told but you don't listen. You know its true!

As much as his sports obsession irritates the living piss out of me, he's a great guy. With a few exceptions. I might be crass in my writing but in some instances, he totally lacks social graces. For example:

*When you have to sit on the floor in the living room to eat over the coffee table like its a giant tv tray, it is NOT funny to fart and see how loudly you can make the wood floors rumble. Yes, I'm sure Sean can hear it in the basement. Do not laugh like you are 3 at this antic.
*When you fart and it stinks, it is NOT funny to wait til someone smells it and then laugh when they are gagging (usually me).
*When we are in the Wal Mart parking lot, it is NOT funny to go into a mini plie and let one rip as people are walking unsuspectingly to their car (ok that one was funny but only because you didn't realize they were walking to the car and the looks they gave you)
*When we are in Wal Mart, it is not funny to fart near me and walk away so the other shoppers think I can't control MY bodily functions.

Lest this sounds like he's a rude and disgusting jerk, let me tell you about his good.
*He's hot (at least to me). After all our time together, I still find him sexy and I love it when he shows affection.
*He's awesome with Abby. He gets up with her in the mornings and gets her ready so that I can sleep in for an extra half hour and I gotta say, he usually gets up with her on the weekends too.
*He will do whatever I ask. One thing I've learned is, don't drop hints. Most men, won't pick up a hint BUT if you ask them to do something, they will. He knows I hate to mop so he will do that most every weekend and he does the laundry. He even cooks during the week. I forget to tell him often how much I appreciate all that he does.
*He thinks I'm beautiful no matter what. Although he doesn't tell me that as much as he used to, I know he still thinks it.
*I can tell him anything. And, I do mean ANYTHING. We had a great conversation last night about who we think is hot. He knows my "Toy Story". We talk about sex, masturbation, fantasies, and all the other normal stuff.
*My kids love him to pieces. He is their dad. He is just a out and out great father to all the kids.
*On the important things, he does listen (yes, even when it seems he's not). From different things, I can tell he thinks about what I've said and tries to improve.

There isn't much I'd change about him at all. I know he's not perfect but I don't want him to be. He accepts me for all my postives and negatives and loves me in spite of the many negatives. Every day life gets in our way sometimes and we both take each other for granted but at the end of the day, all is not right with my world unless he's in it. He knows about this blog, knows he's going get bitched about (I told him) and doesn't mind. Now, thats love!

So, to my beloved husband....thank you for coming into my life. Thank you for loving me for me. Thank you for healing my broken heart and making me whole again. Thank you for being my best friend in the whole world. For our yesterdays, our todays and for all our tomorrows I love you. (Just remember this the next time you want to be irritated with me! :D)

Needy?? Why Yes, Yes I Am

2007-10-02T09:22:00.000-07:00

I love to read comments people leave. If you visit, and like it, or don't like, drop a comment and say so. I'm sorta like the old miser counting his money at the end of the day....today I had 2 comments. I love all the comments, the good, the bad, and the ugly - since all those traits somewhat represent me. Don't be afraid to drop me a line telling me what you think. If you hate it and think I'm a crass Piece of Shit, say so. I'll thank you with a smile!

PS - in case this post comes across as a needy cry for recognition, that's EXACTLY what it is!

PSS - I warned Hubby that today's post is about him and some random thoughts. I think Hubby's great (except for when I'm annoyed at him) but he will probably come across as crass and as lacking in social skills as I am - which is probably why we are together.

Bowling For Dummines

2007-10-01T18:07:00.000-07:00

My parents got married when I was 5. My dad had just joined the Air Force and they packed up a U-Haul and moved from Rhode Island to Texas (their 1st duty station). They didn't have much money so for their weekly "date" night, I got to tag along to the base bowling alley while they bowled on a league. I didn't mind at all. You see, I was totally enchanted by the fact that I now had a daddy since my mom had been a single mom til that point. My dad rocked! Ok Ok, so did my mom but I was used to her...she was "old news". At any rate, back to bowling....

Going to the bowling alley was great. All the adults used to slip me quarters to play video games (which to us "old timers" translates to pinball) and I was allowed to get a soda. That was a big deal. Then on Sunday's, that was family day to go bowling (which actually meant my dad went to practice for league and would let me tag along and throw a few balls). My dad originally taught me the between the legs throw, the stand at the line and swing 3 times and drop throw, and finally a real, live bowling approach. My point? I've been bowling since I was 5.

Fast forward to 35. My parents have recently gotten back into league bowling on a mixed double league. They asked my sister and her fiancee to bowl with them. I have to admit to being a bit peeved. Why wasn't I asked? HMMMPF! My nose was definitely out of joint (I conveniently forgot the fact that we have 3 kids at home, one of which is only 1). Then it happened. I was asked. It was a happy day.

My dad picked me up from work so we could take a little trip to his bowling store and I got all fixed up...ball, bag, and shoes. I was ready. Strike city here I come. I was syked to bowl my first Friday...ready to remember my old glory days of bowling. I was cocky, I was arrogant. This league had better watch out!

FIRST GAME
Frame 1 - 1 pin, gutter ball
Conversation in my head - its ok, you're just getting used to the ball

Frame 2 - gutter ball, gutter ball
Conversation in my head - Shake it off, you're just rusty

Frame 3 - gutter ball, gutter ball
Conversation in my head - Good Lord, I've lost my mojo

Frame 4 - gutter ball, gutter ball
Conversation in my head - You suck, you jackass!

Frame 5 - gutter ball, gutter ball
Conversation in my head - Why the holy fuck did I want to subject myself to this torture???

Suffice it to say, I did do a bit better. I ended up with a 76 average over 3 games and a WHOPPING 120 handicap - the HIGHEST in the league. As a matter of fact, I was the ONLY person with a 3 digit handicap.

When I got to work Monday, I was asked how bowling went:
ME: I had 1 by the 5th frame.
RESPONSE: One strike?
ME: No, no. ONE PIN.
RESPONSE: It took you 5 frames to knock down one pin???
ME: No, I'm pretty sure I knocked that down with my first ball
RESPONSE: **total silence**

The up side??? I have a pretty new ball that glitters.

PS - There are so many more things you can do with blogger on a PC and when you aren't using Safari and a Mac