okay, i am ultra uber pissed at this day so be patient with me. tonite, i am supposed to be at gay cabarret (yes it's exactly what it sounds like) with dear old friends from college, who might i add are in from houston, but after checking the bank books, i've found that those two extra unplanned trips to o-town at $76 per tank have pretty much bankrupted me. so not only am i missing that, but i missed huny on his way out so i can't hitch a ride to watch him race. AND there's no food in the house so i am reduced to eating a tomato sammich-which normally i would relish and crave, but tonite just seems like poor folks' food. this is my last kid-free nite (the spawn have been with the grandparents for almost a month) and i really expected that i would finish off my mini-vaca with a bit more of a bang. frizzle.
but, this kind of goes with everything that has happened this week. last nite, huny and i went to planet of the apes-great flick, worth theatre money. funny thing is, our town had some little lightening strikes last nite that surged power in the theatre...forcing the movie to stop on five separate occasions. now i'm patient (snicker) so we sat as it took fifteen minutes each time to restart it...especially since they promised us free passes at the end. well worth it as i had no where else to be, because prior to that, our race got rained out...after huny had taken the car out and gotten all prepped up.
right now, i'm debating cleaning the basement and dealing with the laundry because my house is starting to look like an episode of hoarders. i'm sure the kids (and my mom) think that i've spent their entire period of absence cleaning and being a domestic slave. fat chance...i leave this poo til the last minute possible and speed wash the entire house. i'm thinking of covering it all in linoleum so that i can just hose it off five minutes before everyone gets home. as you can tell, that may be necessary, as i've managed to find something else to do instead of the chores at hand. :)
so, i'm desparately trying to be bloggerific and am coming up with some creative reading so i don't bore all of us to death, and so that my kids come home to dirty skivies...
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
birrrrrrrfday caaaaaaake!
i turned the big 4-0 this year! and unbelievably, i am perfectly fine with this. lots of my friends have completely gone of the deep end with the age panic. i, however, think i am better than i've ever been...like wine. no, not fruity and pungent, but better with age!
so, i decided to have this big party. huny at first was trying to plan a surprise party, but since he couldn't get the help he needed from my friends, he let it slip one nite and i took over. it caused a bit of stink in fact, which, to make another long story short, ended in me screaming "I WANT TO WEAR A PINK TUTU AND A TIARA!!!". (i did. want to. and did wear those two things for my party...but that's another story that revolves around my bedroom looking like a glitter faerie puked all over the place, or that we'd had a whole lotta strippers staying with us). we billed it as "beck's fantabulous fortieth pink party!!!". yeah, you guessed it...everything pink, including the guests. and food.
never again.
i thought i would try my hand at red velvet cake balls. heck my kids made them with the nanny and they were fantastic. my friend h. marie knocks them out like nobody's business, so with bakerella instructions, i set off to make three hundred pristine little pink confections. have i mentioned sometimes my ocd is more noticable than others? i'm thinking this would come in handy for an occassion such as this, like when i clean the station at work. everybody at work laughs, but we all know it's the best way to get good results.
i followed the directions and was at the ball dipping stage. the first i did with a spoon and it was a work of art. placed it in the center of the platter and went to balls, two, three and four, making a tight and tidy little circle inside to out. pretty pretty pretty.
ball five slipped off the spoon and got a dent in the side, so i fished it out of the almond bark and set it on a tea cup plate, where my rejects were to go. ball six must not have been rolled quite right, as it left a smal glob of cake in the bark. by this time the bark was hardening so i reheated it in the microwave, like the recipe said to. but forgot to remove the cake particles. and didn't notice...
let me spare you the agony of what ensued and just say this: i had intended to have these perfectly round, pink-tinged, smooth cake balls to drizzle hot pink squiggies on. and my guests would oh and ahh and delight in the perfection that were my cake balls.
not even close to reality.
i had cake wads. cake lugees. i had cake globs that were covered in almond bark AND funky little pink lumps that came from other cake balls, which apparently were attempting to sow their seeds in the melted bark. i would never imagined from the "simple" instructions and "appealing" pictures that i would have cake balls that looked like bloody eyeballs on a platter. this was not a birthday treat...this was a halloween freak show. after 60 cake plops (yes, this is what they were evetually dubbed), i gave up. i hid them in the basement fridge, and went to the store for angel food cake. THAT i know i can make. soon my kitchen was aglow with hot pink angel food (okay, one i bumped and it deflated, causing uproarious giggles from my children, who were immediately shot the stink eye and fled the baking disaster area), and the task was done. the color from the cakes made my kitchen look like a tim burton movie-and i thought it was beautiful. (And my bff jiffer was making a raspberry almond creme cake as part of my gift, so i knew i was safe. that and the 18 bottles of wine i bought for our guests). and i saved the day.
until one of my guests asked about the cake plops. and SOMEONE snuck them out of the fridge and laid them in the middle of the snack table. hideous and looking a bit like melted bird poop, they stuck to the platter...and then were consumed like a hot commodity. ugly as the back end of a cat, but dubbed the most dellicious snack at the party.
oh, and i ROCKED that tutu :)
so, i decided to have this big party. huny at first was trying to plan a surprise party, but since he couldn't get the help he needed from my friends, he let it slip one nite and i took over. it caused a bit of stink in fact, which, to make another long story short, ended in me screaming "I WANT TO WEAR A PINK TUTU AND A TIARA!!!". (i did. want to. and did wear those two things for my party...but that's another story that revolves around my bedroom looking like a glitter faerie puked all over the place, or that we'd had a whole lotta strippers staying with us). we billed it as "beck's fantabulous fortieth pink party!!!". yeah, you guessed it...everything pink, including the guests. and food.
never again.
i thought i would try my hand at red velvet cake balls. heck my kids made them with the nanny and they were fantastic. my friend h. marie knocks them out like nobody's business, so with bakerella instructions, i set off to make three hundred pristine little pink confections. have i mentioned sometimes my ocd is more noticable than others? i'm thinking this would come in handy for an occassion such as this, like when i clean the station at work. everybody at work laughs, but we all know it's the best way to get good results.
i followed the directions and was at the ball dipping stage. the first i did with a spoon and it was a work of art. placed it in the center of the platter and went to balls, two, three and four, making a tight and tidy little circle inside to out. pretty pretty pretty.
ball five slipped off the spoon and got a dent in the side, so i fished it out of the almond bark and set it on a tea cup plate, where my rejects were to go. ball six must not have been rolled quite right, as it left a smal glob of cake in the bark. by this time the bark was hardening so i reheated it in the microwave, like the recipe said to. but forgot to remove the cake particles. and didn't notice...
let me spare you the agony of what ensued and just say this: i had intended to have these perfectly round, pink-tinged, smooth cake balls to drizzle hot pink squiggies on. and my guests would oh and ahh and delight in the perfection that were my cake balls.
not even close to reality.
i had cake wads. cake lugees. i had cake globs that were covered in almond bark AND funky little pink lumps that came from other cake balls, which apparently were attempting to sow their seeds in the melted bark. i would never imagined from the "simple" instructions and "appealing" pictures that i would have cake balls that looked like bloody eyeballs on a platter. this was not a birthday treat...this was a halloween freak show. after 60 cake plops (yes, this is what they were evetually dubbed), i gave up. i hid them in the basement fridge, and went to the store for angel food cake. THAT i know i can make. soon my kitchen was aglow with hot pink angel food (okay, one i bumped and it deflated, causing uproarious giggles from my children, who were immediately shot the stink eye and fled the baking disaster area), and the task was done. the color from the cakes made my kitchen look like a tim burton movie-and i thought it was beautiful. (And my bff jiffer was making a raspberry almond creme cake as part of my gift, so i knew i was safe. that and the 18 bottles of wine i bought for our guests). and i saved the day.
until one of my guests asked about the cake plops. and SOMEONE snuck them out of the fridge and laid them in the middle of the snack table. hideous and looking a bit like melted bird poop, they stuck to the platter...and then were consumed like a hot commodity. ugly as the back end of a cat, but dubbed the most dellicious snack at the party.
oh, and i ROCKED that tutu :)
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
an explanation...not an appology
okay, so i've been beyond lackadaisical in my blogging efforts. i was so gung ho in the beginning, and i have these absolutely hilariously amazing stories, but life has somewhat gotten in the way. bailey is doing better...not great but better. she has gone from critical hyperthyroid to critical hypo, so we've had a meds switch. we're not far enough in to tell a difference yet, blood work in a couple weeks to see what's going on. plus she started a new "hold the bottom up" med, also in the beginning stages.
dom is dom...cruising along being a little loopie (the other day he skippity do da-ed out to the kitchen and said "why does johnny depp always walk like this? it IS fun thou!!!").
i've been sitting here blogging for forty minutes and my stories just aren't flowing. my mind is simply elsewhere. my biggest distraction has been the utterly destructive chaos that huny's exwife brings into our lives. my gawd, i have never met someone who thrives on negative energy as much as she does. now i know you're used to reading about the antics that ensue with a problematic healthed child, and just raising children and LIVING, but i have to vent or i swear to the stars i am going to go completely ballistic on this idiotic brillo toad, which would be good for no one at all.
anyone that knows me is very aware that i have a temper, but that it takes more than a lot to shake me into infuriation (for pete's sake look at the way i deal with my loser exhusband. i haven't even attempted to have him wiped from the face of the earth, so you know i've got it under control), but this woman this excruciatingly lunatic!!! now, i won't say that i haven't completely blown up over this several times, because that would be FIBBING. i have ranted and raved (and just accidentally put a post on facebook that i was putting on here...whoopsie doodles), but overall i have kept it under control, and even burst into laughter over it (the laughter of the insane...the other night, in what was most certainly a drunken stupor, she text to huny "i'm not your bitch, she is"...oh little girl...i'm not his bitch, i'm THE bitch). but here, dear reader, is what has kept me from entertaining you the last month or so, and she will therein be referred to as "it", to keep me from verbal perversions. i'll admit, there's humor in this...it's just of the mean girl variety...so brace up...
1.) about two months ago, i received a letter from the nebraska department of roads. i opened it immediately-i take state matters seriously. now, i'll admit i knew that it worked there, but i never dreamed this contact was from it. the three-paged letter inside rambled (with both inadequate grammar and an atrocity of misspellings) on about derogatorily about what a huge piece of crap huny is, and a bad father who never sees his child (ummmm...who is at our house four days one week and two the alternating, as well as any extra time huny can wrangle) and how it "implored to the mother in me" (you silly bitch, i AM a mother, it's not just a piece of me) to protect myself. now, aside from the fact that i've been next to huny when it's obscene, screaming voice has come through the phone, and been present for the numerous times she's used her child as leverage...or geesh, you get the idea...it wasn't just the content of the letter. for all my fire, for all my brimstone, i am a firm believer in "the system". people who are good and just, follow the rules and play by the book prevail. so, with that in mind, and the fact that i originally majored in psych/prelaw, looked at it from this aspect...this 'woman', who had computer access to the department of motor vehicles information thru her employment, obtained my address and violated my right to privacy, used a state envelope to disguise it's communication, and used the postage meter at it's place of employment to send said letter...which, albeit small, is FRAUD. so, being the law-abiding citizen i am, i reported it to the nebraska state department of roads human resources department. awwwww...you lost your job? and it's my fault? no you daft cow, you violated your place of employment's contract (using those records for personal gain is a felony, so you're lucky you're not in jail). it takes a lot to push me to the brink, but if you do, i will come at you hard, fast and with execution-style deliberation.
2.) about a year and a half ago, in a legal proceeding, huny requested back some personal affects. for those of you that don't know, huny used to work NASCAR-yes, the cars that drive consistently left-and he had amassed many one of a kind artifacts, autographs and whatnot. when he requested these, the ex told a judge that they had been stolen. the judge asked that it produce a police report, which it could not as it said it never filed one. well how unfortunate. sounds much like a story it once told about a ring being stolen, which amazingly, it was wearing in a picture taken last month. shocking! the theives must have suffered a stroke of conscious morality and returned your item of value.
a couple weeks ago it came to our attention that it was having a "huge sale" (yes, it actually text this to huny, also stating that it had his baby albums and he could get them once the HUGE SALE was over, which have never been produced). sure 'nuf, some dumbass posted on craig's list this HUGE SALE..listing that there were "many pit crew memorabilia" and one of a kind items...with it's home address listed. fucking duh. so, i simply sent a dear friend (if you're reading this, bless your heart for the help) over to buy these items. now, i'm completely pissed that huny had to pay to get these items back, and hopefully some of that money will be spent on his child and not totally on cigarettes and pork rinds, but these are back in huny's possession and that means more than anything. the lithographs are now hanging in our house...another victory as they had never been allowed to hang before.
3.) on mother's day, huny's daughter wanted to get something for it. now, the two things above are NOTHING compared to what she's done to him, so understandably, the thought of getting a nicety for her churns his stomach. seeing as NO ONE has ever offered to do this courtesy for my children (and seriously, i'm never going to take them to spend my own money on me), i thought i'd offer to take her and do it. we got it a card and a bouquet of flowers, which the child delivered when we returned her to it. it never said thank you, but did eventually text "i want more than flowers from that bitch for making me lose my job. i want an apology". why you disgusting, uncouth, ingratiated c-word (no matter how i feel, i can't even bring myself to type it)...how DARE you assume i would EVER apologize for the abuse that you have inflicted upon me. i did it for your child, so that she could feel special and important in your eyes and i am sickened by your extremely misguided thought that this was about me. the pleasantries are over and while i will do everything your child requires to avoid the past that mine have, don't make the mistake of thinking that i won't give you you enough rope to watch you hang yourself, and tighten the proverbial noose given the opportunity.
whew. not much, but boy that feels good. back to giggles and glitter and butterflies. oh and look vinnie...i wiped!!!
dom is dom...cruising along being a little loopie (the other day he skippity do da-ed out to the kitchen and said "why does johnny depp always walk like this? it IS fun thou!!!").
i've been sitting here blogging for forty minutes and my stories just aren't flowing. my mind is simply elsewhere. my biggest distraction has been the utterly destructive chaos that huny's exwife brings into our lives. my gawd, i have never met someone who thrives on negative energy as much as she does. now i know you're used to reading about the antics that ensue with a problematic healthed child, and just raising children and LIVING, but i have to vent or i swear to the stars i am going to go completely ballistic on this idiotic brillo toad, which would be good for no one at all.
anyone that knows me is very aware that i have a temper, but that it takes more than a lot to shake me into infuriation (for pete's sake look at the way i deal with my loser exhusband. i haven't even attempted to have him wiped from the face of the earth, so you know i've got it under control), but this woman this excruciatingly lunatic!!! now, i won't say that i haven't completely blown up over this several times, because that would be FIBBING. i have ranted and raved (and just accidentally put a post on facebook that i was putting on here...whoopsie doodles), but overall i have kept it under control, and even burst into laughter over it (the laughter of the insane...the other night, in what was most certainly a drunken stupor, she text to huny "i'm not your bitch, she is"...oh little girl...i'm not his bitch, i'm THE bitch). but here, dear reader, is what has kept me from entertaining you the last month or so, and she will therein be referred to as "it", to keep me from verbal perversions. i'll admit, there's humor in this...it's just of the mean girl variety...so brace up...
1.) about two months ago, i received a letter from the nebraska department of roads. i opened it immediately-i take state matters seriously. now, i'll admit i knew that it worked there, but i never dreamed this contact was from it. the three-paged letter inside rambled (with both inadequate grammar and an atrocity of misspellings) on about derogatorily about what a huge piece of crap huny is, and a bad father who never sees his child (ummmm...who is at our house four days one week and two the alternating, as well as any extra time huny can wrangle) and how it "implored to the mother in me" (you silly bitch, i AM a mother, it's not just a piece of me) to protect myself. now, aside from the fact that i've been next to huny when it's obscene, screaming voice has come through the phone, and been present for the numerous times she's used her child as leverage...or geesh, you get the idea...it wasn't just the content of the letter. for all my fire, for all my brimstone, i am a firm believer in "the system". people who are good and just, follow the rules and play by the book prevail. so, with that in mind, and the fact that i originally majored in psych/prelaw, looked at it from this aspect...this 'woman', who had computer access to the department of motor vehicles information thru her employment, obtained my address and violated my right to privacy, used a state envelope to disguise it's communication, and used the postage meter at it's place of employment to send said letter...which, albeit small, is FRAUD. so, being the law-abiding citizen i am, i reported it to the nebraska state department of roads human resources department. awwwww...you lost your job? and it's my fault? no you daft cow, you violated your place of employment's contract (using those records for personal gain is a felony, so you're lucky you're not in jail). it takes a lot to push me to the brink, but if you do, i will come at you hard, fast and with execution-style deliberation.
2.) about a year and a half ago, in a legal proceeding, huny requested back some personal affects. for those of you that don't know, huny used to work NASCAR-yes, the cars that drive consistently left-and he had amassed many one of a kind artifacts, autographs and whatnot. when he requested these, the ex told a judge that they had been stolen. the judge asked that it produce a police report, which it could not as it said it never filed one. well how unfortunate. sounds much like a story it once told about a ring being stolen, which amazingly, it was wearing in a picture taken last month. shocking! the theives must have suffered a stroke of conscious morality and returned your item of value.
a couple weeks ago it came to our attention that it was having a "huge sale" (yes, it actually text this to huny, also stating that it had his baby albums and he could get them once the HUGE SALE was over, which have never been produced). sure 'nuf, some dumbass posted on craig's list this HUGE SALE..listing that there were "many pit crew memorabilia" and one of a kind items...with it's home address listed. fucking duh. so, i simply sent a dear friend (if you're reading this, bless your heart for the help) over to buy these items. now, i'm completely pissed that huny had to pay to get these items back, and hopefully some of that money will be spent on his child and not totally on cigarettes and pork rinds, but these are back in huny's possession and that means more than anything. the lithographs are now hanging in our house...another victory as they had never been allowed to hang before.
3.) on mother's day, huny's daughter wanted to get something for it. now, the two things above are NOTHING compared to what she's done to him, so understandably, the thought of getting a nicety for her churns his stomach. seeing as NO ONE has ever offered to do this courtesy for my children (and seriously, i'm never going to take them to spend my own money on me), i thought i'd offer to take her and do it. we got it a card and a bouquet of flowers, which the child delivered when we returned her to it. it never said thank you, but did eventually text "i want more than flowers from that bitch for making me lose my job. i want an apology". why you disgusting, uncouth, ingratiated c-word (no matter how i feel, i can't even bring myself to type it)...how DARE you assume i would EVER apologize for the abuse that you have inflicted upon me. i did it for your child, so that she could feel special and important in your eyes and i am sickened by your extremely misguided thought that this was about me. the pleasantries are over and while i will do everything your child requires to avoid the past that mine have, don't make the mistake of thinking that i won't give you you enough rope to watch you hang yourself, and tighten the proverbial noose given the opportunity.
whew. not much, but boy that feels good. back to giggles and glitter and butterflies. oh and look vinnie...i wiped!!!
Thursday, May 19, 2011
the white bill cosby
you wonder where i get it from? i have been surrounded with humor all my life. i have the same quirky, dry wit that my father does, which i inheritted from his father as well (i loved my poppa jack dearly, he was the source of much of my childhood happiness, and a fantastic partner in crime). so really, the stuff that pops out of my mouth most days should not come as any surprise to my family, or those in close contact with me during my raising.
my dad LUVS bill cosby and i swear he was trying to be the man's pasty counterpart. i can not tell you how many times he would quip him, or come up with stuff i swear mister jello pudding pop himself would have been proud to quote. so i grew up with cosby-wisdom...never really expecting a straight answer. for example...
when i took off for college three hours from home, i, of course, still called my dad with every little problem, especially when it had to do with my pony. while i was perfectly capable of basic care, there where still things about her that mistified me.
one weekend i called him about a "funny thing" the steering wheel was doing. the car felt loose and just wasn't right. i spent a good five minutes explaining to him what it had been doing, and then another telling him how genuinely concerned i was about my well-being driving her, as well as her health and well-being as a functioning automobile. my dad listen patiently, inserting the proper "uh-huh" as warranted. i was truly distraught that penny (named for her two-tone copper body) might be failing me, and i was going to explain it thoroughly so that jerry would understand and perhaps even FEEL the steering issue, regardless of our 150 mile gap.
"so whaddaya think?" i questioned when i felt i had spilled out every detail. dad thought deeply, i could tell by the "hmmmmmmm" noise he made before answering. "well beck, it sounds like it's the nut behind the wheel." "oh really?" i said, "well what do we...HEY!!!" :)
my dad LUVS bill cosby and i swear he was trying to be the man's pasty counterpart. i can not tell you how many times he would quip him, or come up with stuff i swear mister jello pudding pop himself would have been proud to quote. so i grew up with cosby-wisdom...never really expecting a straight answer. for example...
when i took off for college three hours from home, i, of course, still called my dad with every little problem, especially when it had to do with my pony. while i was perfectly capable of basic care, there where still things about her that mistified me.
one weekend i called him about a "funny thing" the steering wheel was doing. the car felt loose and just wasn't right. i spent a good five minutes explaining to him what it had been doing, and then another telling him how genuinely concerned i was about my well-being driving her, as well as her health and well-being as a functioning automobile. my dad listen patiently, inserting the proper "uh-huh" as warranted. i was truly distraught that penny (named for her two-tone copper body) might be failing me, and i was going to explain it thoroughly so that jerry would understand and perhaps even FEEL the steering issue, regardless of our 150 mile gap.
"so whaddaya think?" i questioned when i felt i had spilled out every detail. dad thought deeply, i could tell by the "hmmmmmmm" noise he made before answering. "well beck, it sounds like it's the nut behind the wheel." "oh really?" i said, "well what do we...HEY!!!" :)
Monday, May 9, 2011
how was my day?!?
one of my friends on facebook was giving me crap about not blogging in eons (guilty), and then, after obviously reading my numberous statuses (IE: illtemperedandsuperpissedoffsoleavemethefuckalone) asks "how was your day?"...
you're kidding me right?!? now, those who don't know me, wouldn't know that mondays are one of my busiest days. it's a shitstorm to say the least, and that's if nothing goes wrong. but if you do know me, and this fair amgio does, you know that if i say 'go away, i bite", i damn well mean it, especially the biting part.
so, you giant poopstick, i am blogging...and telling you how my day went.
granted, i am crabtastic because nothing, NOTHING, seems to be feng shui lately. both huny and i have been bitten by the can't afford a vacation bug, so we are both pissy and on edge, and being on edge makes both of us more on edge. these days i don't even breathe right, and he is making me bonkers with the insentive crap that rolls out of his mouth. it's like i don't even recognize us. now fortunately, i've been really good at biting my tongue...not so good at keeping the disgusted looks off my face. we're both stubborn as hell so you can see where this is getting us.
aside from that, miss is not getting anywhere with the endocrinologist-we were back two weeks ago and were supposed to have results by the middle of last week. i've called twice and can't seem to get a call back. so we all know who's going to make one more polite call then go completely apeshit. AND she's been more than a bit of a rag with her teenangst, and i'm pretty much tired of that.
finally, the boy hasn't listened worth a crap for almost a month and i'm ready to pummel him...and it's worse cuz he looks more like the demon groom every day, so when he twists his face up in that smirk, i want to put a sack over it. on top of it, he got injured at soccer sunday...full-force toe kick to the neck, and now we're going to run up some more doc bills making sure his head isn't going to fall off.
so when you ask me how may day went, even if you mean it in casual conversation, it's likely your'e going to get an earful. so, let me tell you...
as i sit in my car, the outside temperature ninetyfreakinfive degrees on a soccer field with no damn shade, i have not showered from work. this is relevant because, dear reader, as i went to cram the garbage down in a can so my doc could drop crud into it, a large cloud of dead skin poofed into my face and hair. thank gawd i had my mouth shut or i would have inhaled all that (working wound care has taught me to keep the trap closed during debridements), unfortunately, i had just applied fresh gloss, so about a fifth of that stuck to my lips. ACK ACK ACK!!! as quickly as i could leave the room (read oh fucking hell i was stuck there for another maybe five minutes, tears welling up as i stiffled back the spew), i ran to the station sink and splashed water on my face and towelled off. then turned to the mirror to discover debridement dandruff in my hair, like tiny flesh snowflakes. (can you see me making the bullfrog noise here? cuz it happened. in fact it's happening again right now).
THAT is how my day went...and that's only about ten minutes of it.
you're kidding me right?!? now, those who don't know me, wouldn't know that mondays are one of my busiest days. it's a shitstorm to say the least, and that's if nothing goes wrong. but if you do know me, and this fair amgio does, you know that if i say 'go away, i bite", i damn well mean it, especially the biting part.
so, you giant poopstick, i am blogging...and telling you how my day went.
granted, i am crabtastic because nothing, NOTHING, seems to be feng shui lately. both huny and i have been bitten by the can't afford a vacation bug, so we are both pissy and on edge, and being on edge makes both of us more on edge. these days i don't even breathe right, and he is making me bonkers with the insentive crap that rolls out of his mouth. it's like i don't even recognize us. now fortunately, i've been really good at biting my tongue...not so good at keeping the disgusted looks off my face. we're both stubborn as hell so you can see where this is getting us.
aside from that, miss is not getting anywhere with the endocrinologist-we were back two weeks ago and were supposed to have results by the middle of last week. i've called twice and can't seem to get a call back. so we all know who's going to make one more polite call then go completely apeshit. AND she's been more than a bit of a rag with her teenangst, and i'm pretty much tired of that.
finally, the boy hasn't listened worth a crap for almost a month and i'm ready to pummel him...and it's worse cuz he looks more like the demon groom every day, so when he twists his face up in that smirk, i want to put a sack over it. on top of it, he got injured at soccer sunday...full-force toe kick to the neck, and now we're going to run up some more doc bills making sure his head isn't going to fall off.
so when you ask me how may day went, even if you mean it in casual conversation, it's likely your'e going to get an earful. so, let me tell you...
as i sit in my car, the outside temperature ninetyfreakinfive degrees on a soccer field with no damn shade, i have not showered from work. this is relevant because, dear reader, as i went to cram the garbage down in a can so my doc could drop crud into it, a large cloud of dead skin poofed into my face and hair. thank gawd i had my mouth shut or i would have inhaled all that (working wound care has taught me to keep the trap closed during debridements), unfortunately, i had just applied fresh gloss, so about a fifth of that stuck to my lips. ACK ACK ACK!!! as quickly as i could leave the room (read oh fucking hell i was stuck there for another maybe five minutes, tears welling up as i stiffled back the spew), i ran to the station sink and splashed water on my face and towelled off. then turned to the mirror to discover debridement dandruff in my hair, like tiny flesh snowflakes. (can you see me making the bullfrog noise here? cuz it happened. in fact it's happening again right now).
THAT is how my day went...and that's only about ten minutes of it.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
potty training
needless to say, dominic has had a little different up-bringing than a lot of boys. since before he can actually remember, it's just been his sister and i parenting him. as i've mentioned before, he is a very sweet, sensitve guy, but somehow inherently he is all rough and tumble on the outside. he has tackled his sister at the knees and taken her to the ground and kicks the tar out of kids on the soccer field...and sleeps with a bunny named cotton.
when we decided he was ready to potty train, we started off teaching him to sit when he pees. i actually have taught a bazillion boys to do it this way in the years i directed preschools. first sitting the right way, then sitting backwards for the aiming practice then at some point they just start standing up. so dom was in the sitting forward stage, and being rather resistant on using the potty every time. it was horribly frustrating to me, as at daycare, they had no trouble with him, and at home he was just lazy about it. so i always made him sleep in a diaper or a pull-up, just for saftey's sake.
one morning my three year wonder plods into the bathroom, growly because i made him use the bathroom before he was fully awake. i whip off the diaper and am completely astonished that it is DRY. i turn him around and try to plop him down. "GO" i say. he scowls at me and turns around and states "I PEE STANDING UP." "since when," i say, "now go".
dominic shoots me the hairy eyeball, puts both hands behind his back and firehoses into the toilet. doesn't drip a drop anywhere. then when he's done, smirks at me and shakes his little butt...all still without touching it-keeps his hands behind his back until he goes to flush, and then says in three year old smugness...
"see, I TOLD YOU SO."
when we decided he was ready to potty train, we started off teaching him to sit when he pees. i actually have taught a bazillion boys to do it this way in the years i directed preschools. first sitting the right way, then sitting backwards for the aiming practice then at some point they just start standing up. so dom was in the sitting forward stage, and being rather resistant on using the potty every time. it was horribly frustrating to me, as at daycare, they had no trouble with him, and at home he was just lazy about it. so i always made him sleep in a diaper or a pull-up, just for saftey's sake.
one morning my three year wonder plods into the bathroom, growly because i made him use the bathroom before he was fully awake. i whip off the diaper and am completely astonished that it is DRY. i turn him around and try to plop him down. "GO" i say. he scowls at me and turns around and states "I PEE STANDING UP." "since when," i say, "now go".
dominic shoots me the hairy eyeball, puts both hands behind his back and firehoses into the toilet. doesn't drip a drop anywhere. then when he's done, smirks at me and shakes his little butt...all still without touching it-keeps his hands behind his back until he goes to flush, and then says in three year old smugness...
"see, I TOLD YOU SO."
Thursday, April 7, 2011
hail mary, full of grace...
i was raised catholic. i have been to enough masses to save several souls, even of my calibur.
now, the catholic religion itself has never sat very well with me, and i'll get into that at some point. however, i do believe that all children need to be raised with a good, stable faith base. no matter what faith you choose, there should be somewhere that you can jump off when you reach the age to make your own decision. so, my kids are starting off catholic, regardless of my current positioning on the church. fortunately, my mother is heading up this upbringing, as i really am nowhere fit in this area, and i currently do not havea church i attend. she takes him to our home town an hour and a half away several weekends and a couple weeknites to have him participate in classes.
lil man has been going thru the first communion training process this year, which includes first confession. you learn a prayer for this and then are expected, at eight, to confess your immortal sins. he was to do this last night, and mom was picking him up after school so the morning was the last i'd see him until after he'd poured out his soul, literally. as i helped him dress, i explained that he had church clothes in his backpack, and asked him if he was excited.
"i'm anxious." (i love that he is learning new words and is trying to incorporate them into everyday life, to sound like his sister and me. "Why are you anxious bud? you've been practicing your prayers. you'll do fine."
"i'm nervous that i'll make a mistake and God won't forgive me."
awwwww...poor pickle. "oh huny," i say with a big smile, "all God cares about is that you are truly sorry and will try your hardest to make up for your sins." (see, i got this. i may not practice anymore, but i remember the schpeel.)
"but what if the priest tells everyone and they think i'm bad?"
"oh huny it's like a doctor. it's his job to keep the information you give him private. between you, him and God."
"but what if he thinks i'm bad. then God won't forgive me."
interesting. "ummm huny, what are you going to tell him?" at this point i'm somewhat concerned.
"well sometimes," he said with his chin nearly touching his chest in shame, "when i say 'huh' and you think i don't hear you, i do. i just don't feel like listening."
i had to stiffle my laugh. big sins this one has. "Well huny, i suppose you'll have to say some hail mary's to make it up to God and me."
now, the catholic religion itself has never sat very well with me, and i'll get into that at some point. however, i do believe that all children need to be raised with a good, stable faith base. no matter what faith you choose, there should be somewhere that you can jump off when you reach the age to make your own decision. so, my kids are starting off catholic, regardless of my current positioning on the church. fortunately, my mother is heading up this upbringing, as i really am nowhere fit in this area, and i currently do not havea church i attend. she takes him to our home town an hour and a half away several weekends and a couple weeknites to have him participate in classes.
lil man has been going thru the first communion training process this year, which includes first confession. you learn a prayer for this and then are expected, at eight, to confess your immortal sins. he was to do this last night, and mom was picking him up after school so the morning was the last i'd see him until after he'd poured out his soul, literally. as i helped him dress, i explained that he had church clothes in his backpack, and asked him if he was excited.
"i'm anxious." (i love that he is learning new words and is trying to incorporate them into everyday life, to sound like his sister and me. "Why are you anxious bud? you've been practicing your prayers. you'll do fine."
"i'm nervous that i'll make a mistake and God won't forgive me."
awwwww...poor pickle. "oh huny," i say with a big smile, "all God cares about is that you are truly sorry and will try your hardest to make up for your sins." (see, i got this. i may not practice anymore, but i remember the schpeel.)
"but what if the priest tells everyone and they think i'm bad?"
"oh huny it's like a doctor. it's his job to keep the information you give him private. between you, him and God."
"but what if he thinks i'm bad. then God won't forgive me."
interesting. "ummm huny, what are you going to tell him?" at this point i'm somewhat concerned.
"well sometimes," he said with his chin nearly touching his chest in shame, "when i say 'huh' and you think i don't hear you, i do. i just don't feel like listening."
i had to stiffle my laugh. big sins this one has. "Well huny, i suppose you'll have to say some hail mary's to make it up to God and me."
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
i see london, i see france...
so last nite we went out to dinner with my sistah and her hubs, as they just moved here (woohoo! more escapades more frequently!!!). so we were rushing around mad, trying to get ready after school and work, in less than an hour to meet them. i showered as the kids thundered around in royal disarray. i finally hollered at huny to go "assist" the spawn in preparation. minutes later he trudged downstairs, clutching a pair of black "tightie whities" men's size. "explain?" he demanded. "i don't know. " i said and went back to drying my hair. i honestly didn't . huny continued to stare at me and said "REALLY???", then the giggles began behind him. "What?" he said to bailey, who replied "THOSE ARE POPPAS!!!"
huny squealed like a school girl, made a horrified face and dropped them on the ground. turns out, grannie washes dominic and poppa's clothes together when they stay there and must have sent a wad of skivies home. (this has happened before, only it was my undies returned in a plastic baggie...which makes me question my father's choice in hanes.)
as if any man of mine would be caught in those kind of drawers...
huny squealed like a school girl, made a horrified face and dropped them on the ground. turns out, grannie washes dominic and poppa's clothes together when they stay there and must have sent a wad of skivies home. (this has happened before, only it was my undies returned in a plastic baggie...which makes me question my father's choice in hanes.)
as if any man of mine would be caught in those kind of drawers...
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
lunchtime random rant!
first of all dimbo, it's "sacrifice". two 'c', one 's', two 'i'-learn to spell. next, learn the definition...how about some examples?
sacrifice is buying milk for your child instead of cigarettes. there are just things as a parent that you do when things are financially tight, believe me, i know. also, while i firmly believe life would be better for a plethera of people if your lungs rotted out, that little girl still needs you as her mother. nor does she deserve to develop asthma from your filthy second hand smoke (p.s.-even thou you smoke outside, she still reeks like a gin joint).
sacrifice is giving up your vendettas. you should be thanking your maker every day that this kid has two parents and several other adults that care so deeply about her. suck it up, put your personal feelings aside and let her have a family. your daughter does not deserve to suffer the fallout of the self-loathing you developed from breaking your marital vows, let alone a few laws.
sacrifice is putting your own life on hold to raise a healthy, happy child. guess what, you don't get to go to the bar every nite (this also goes with lesson of sacrifice number one), and you do need to enroll her in activities that will take up your every waking moment. you must have missed it in the parenting handbook where it said "the next 18 years or sometimes more shall be forfeittted for the betterment of your child". get over it.
sacrifice is being the bigger person for the emotional health of your baby. this means not having your current boyfriend call and make threats to your child's father. nor should you personally call and leave threatening messages on her grandparent's voicemail about if their son disappears...although this is excellent material to enforce a protection order. the appropriate course of action is to SUCK IT UP, play nice and have a civil relationship for your daughter's sake. and even better yet, you could actually interact positively with her father have constructive conversations with him with your daughter present! novel concept i know, but believe it or not, this would show her how much you two value her.
lastly, sacrifice is, above all, being the parent. you're not there to be your kids' best friend and share the most intimate details of your life with her, you're there to be an example. keep in mind that your child repeats a lot of what you say and reports on what you do, as well as develops opinions and makes stuff up based on what she's being exposed to. think wisely...you haven't been.
you're not an unintelligent individual, but your common sense is lacking. please make alterations accordingly, and practice better parenting!
sacrifice is buying milk for your child instead of cigarettes. there are just things as a parent that you do when things are financially tight, believe me, i know. also, while i firmly believe life would be better for a plethera of people if your lungs rotted out, that little girl still needs you as her mother. nor does she deserve to develop asthma from your filthy second hand smoke (p.s.-even thou you smoke outside, she still reeks like a gin joint).
sacrifice is giving up your vendettas. you should be thanking your maker every day that this kid has two parents and several other adults that care so deeply about her. suck it up, put your personal feelings aside and let her have a family. your daughter does not deserve to suffer the fallout of the self-loathing you developed from breaking your marital vows, let alone a few laws.
sacrifice is putting your own life on hold to raise a healthy, happy child. guess what, you don't get to go to the bar every nite (this also goes with lesson of sacrifice number one), and you do need to enroll her in activities that will take up your every waking moment. you must have missed it in the parenting handbook where it said "the next 18 years or sometimes more shall be forfeittted for the betterment of your child". get over it.
sacrifice is being the bigger person for the emotional health of your baby. this means not having your current boyfriend call and make threats to your child's father. nor should you personally call and leave threatening messages on her grandparent's voicemail about if their son disappears...although this is excellent material to enforce a protection order. the appropriate course of action is to SUCK IT UP, play nice and have a civil relationship for your daughter's sake. and even better yet, you could actually interact positively with her father have constructive conversations with him with your daughter present! novel concept i know, but believe it or not, this would show her how much you two value her.
lastly, sacrifice is, above all, being the parent. you're not there to be your kids' best friend and share the most intimate details of your life with her, you're there to be an example. keep in mind that your child repeats a lot of what you say and reports on what you do, as well as develops opinions and makes stuff up based on what she's being exposed to. think wisely...you haven't been.
you're not an unintelligent individual, but your common sense is lacking. please make alterations accordingly, and practice better parenting!
Thursday, March 17, 2011
birthday wish
so when i was in college, i nannied for a local family with a boy and a girl, who were about 14 months apart. the girl is now my nanny, although in recent years, she's worked less as the kids are growing up. they are like an extended family and we are all stil very close. cara still does so many things with us, including using the same tactics on my kids as i used on her and her brother, and entertaining them with stories of the escapades she and her brother had.
cara was always a bit of a princess, and was so much fun since she was very articulate and was also very interested in grown up things...like jewelry, cars, and socializing. the family had wonderful dinners and parties-giant bbqs and cookouts with dozens of people. julie (the mom) is an amazing cook and fantastic hostess. kids were always welcome and jules would always make sure that i knew i was invited as a guest, not just the help. half the time i would lug cara around with me, just because she was so cute..she was a very bright and precocious little bit, and really enjoyed adult company. the summer after she turned two, they had a huge end of season party with endless food and drink. first cara tropped around investigating everyone's glasses. she finally announced to me that she "want a 'garita bucky!" so i crushed some ice for her and filled a cactus shaped glass with lime koolaid. she toddled around feeling very special and grown up, talking with the adults about how she was "big and be three soon". she was having conversations with everyone, letting them know she was a big girl, and one guest finally asked her if she knew what she wanted when she had her next birthday. little did everyone know we'd been working on a response..."diamonds and rubies and mercedes". she would chirp this answer to me or the ex and just beam. so she was all ready with her answer, and turned her voice up a few notches to get her wish out. "when i three, i want diamonds and 'cedes and BOOBIES!!!" she quipped to the entire deck. the laughter that ensued was priceless and she skipped off to entertain more guests.
cara now says she had no clue how on that phrase was :)
cara was always a bit of a princess, and was so much fun since she was very articulate and was also very interested in grown up things...like jewelry, cars, and socializing. the family had wonderful dinners and parties-giant bbqs and cookouts with dozens of people. julie (the mom) is an amazing cook and fantastic hostess. kids were always welcome and jules would always make sure that i knew i was invited as a guest, not just the help. half the time i would lug cara around with me, just because she was so cute..she was a very bright and precocious little bit, and really enjoyed adult company. the summer after she turned two, they had a huge end of season party with endless food and drink. first cara tropped around investigating everyone's glasses. she finally announced to me that she "want a 'garita bucky!" so i crushed some ice for her and filled a cactus shaped glass with lime koolaid. she toddled around feeling very special and grown up, talking with the adults about how she was "big and be three soon". she was having conversations with everyone, letting them know she was a big girl, and one guest finally asked her if she knew what she wanted when she had her next birthday. little did everyone know we'd been working on a response..."diamonds and rubies and mercedes". she would chirp this answer to me or the ex and just beam. so she was all ready with her answer, and turned her voice up a few notches to get her wish out. "when i three, i want diamonds and 'cedes and BOOBIES!!!" she quipped to the entire deck. the laughter that ensued was priceless and she skipped off to entertain more guests.
cara now says she had no clue how on that phrase was :)
end of the rainbow
there is a t-rex in my house this week. it is stomping, destroying, chewing up and spitting out everything in it's way. and there is no reasoning with it. and there is no coaxing it to watch "america's next top model" to pacify it's ravings (yes, this does work sometimes). so we've sent it to bed early and given in to it's whims and food cravings. and also just generally avoided communication and contact. tonite was easy as the boy had soccer practice, and i'm his coach. this gives girl a chance to be independent, as well as gives us all a break from aggitating eachother.
on the way home, the lil man was talking about leprechauns and getting a wish if you catch one. when he asked what i would wish for i said i thought i would wish that bailey was healthy. he didn't say anything to this and i assumed our conversation was over, as he began babbling about his first soccer practice.
when we got home, the attitudeasaurus was sleeping, so dom bathed and then joined me for dinner. in between bites of macaroni, he piped up "if i had a wish, i would wish for bailey to be kind and to be around kind people so she wouldn't be angry all the time. maybe if we are kind always she will stop being so unhappy." sigh.
on the way home, the lil man was talking about leprechauns and getting a wish if you catch one. when he asked what i would wish for i said i thought i would wish that bailey was healthy. he didn't say anything to this and i assumed our conversation was over, as he began babbling about his first soccer practice.
when we got home, the attitudeasaurus was sleeping, so dom bathed and then joined me for dinner. in between bites of macaroni, he piped up "if i had a wish, i would wish for bailey to be kind and to be around kind people so she wouldn't be angry all the time. maybe if we are kind always she will stop being so unhappy." sigh.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
derailing the crazy train...
raising a bipolar child is an adventure to say the least. some days it's like living with a badger high on pixie stix. others are more like holding a conversation with a potato. and then there's the rare "normal" periods...boy do i ache for more of those.
bailey is very adept at concealing her disorder from the general population for short periods of time. you can tell she's comfortable around you if she lets the cuckoo show in front of you. she's REEEEEEEALLY comfortable with me. she can be downright abusive and there are days i just want to shake her. then again, i really enjoy her bizzare sense of humor about her disorder. i also abhor the way she attempts to blame some of her thirteen year old attitude and behavior on it..."i can't help that i'm bipolar!" said often with a big heaving sigh. (no dear, you can not. however you can help being a petulant little mouthpiece!) i read other blogs about bipolar children and teens and feel a lot less alone some days, but i rarely see the ones who can laugh about the hillarity that ensues. i truly can not imagine anything more frustrating than what these people who we live with go thru on a daily basis...sometimes more frequently than that. BUT,i am a firm believer that humor can solve 90% of the worlds problems...and sarcasm takes care of the rest.
fortunately, this kid has inherited my sense of humor. now, admittedly, she is not always in the mood to be funny, and there are days when she is so far gone that NOTHING is funny. and on those days, if i laugh, it makes things a million times worse. and you never know which attitude you're going to get. those are the days when i can be found standing outside doors that have just been slammed in my face and silently flipping off the she-devil on the other side. fortunately, she has never opend the door to see this as it is AWFUL. okay, so it somewhat negates my application for parent of the year award, but, it makes me feel better...and she is none the wiser.
however, when it's funny, it's damn funny.
one saturday morning, bailey was plodding about the house. for a kid who bares graces 80lbs, she can make a thundering of noise when she is in a foul mood. this was one of those days where she tumbled out of bed just plain wrong, no reason needed. dominic and i usually try and avoid any conflict with her. so do the fuzzie bitches. animals know these things, and phae in particular has a strong bond with bai, sticks to her like glue, but puffs and runs when the kid is grouchy. so as i said, we were all tip-toeing around the crazy girl that morning-dom watched cartoons, i did mom things, and the fuzzies chased eachother willy-nilly around the entire house. at some point, bailey's absent little brain joined us long enough to feed the cats. as she picked up the food and water troughs, both half full and zombie walked around the table, the kitties tore into the kitchen. in disasterous slow motion i watched as phae catapulted herself on to the table, and mimzy followed suit. seeing bailey, phae attempted to skid toa stop, only to have mimzy hit her from behind with the gale force of a boulder rolling downhill. and both careened into my daughter. in panic, bailey startled and the contents of both bowls flew up into the air...and into the ceiling fan, spattering my entire kitchen with chow and water. then the cats fell to the floor in a heap. utter chaos in less than 8 seconds. and i saw it all.
i stared at bailey, wild-eyed, disoriented and covered in cat schmuck, for a couple seconds, and then the laughter began. fortunately from her as i couldn't hold it in any longer.
when the giggling dissolved i said "Whew! well that could have gone either way...". bailey smiled and said "it did. up and everywhere!"
bailey is very adept at concealing her disorder from the general population for short periods of time. you can tell she's comfortable around you if she lets the cuckoo show in front of you. she's REEEEEEEALLY comfortable with me. she can be downright abusive and there are days i just want to shake her. then again, i really enjoy her bizzare sense of humor about her disorder. i also abhor the way she attempts to blame some of her thirteen year old attitude and behavior on it..."i can't help that i'm bipolar!" said often with a big heaving sigh. (no dear, you can not. however you can help being a petulant little mouthpiece!) i read other blogs about bipolar children and teens and feel a lot less alone some days, but i rarely see the ones who can laugh about the hillarity that ensues. i truly can not imagine anything more frustrating than what these people who we live with go thru on a daily basis...sometimes more frequently than that. BUT,i am a firm believer that humor can solve 90% of the worlds problems...and sarcasm takes care of the rest.
fortunately, this kid has inherited my sense of humor. now, admittedly, she is not always in the mood to be funny, and there are days when she is so far gone that NOTHING is funny. and on those days, if i laugh, it makes things a million times worse. and you never know which attitude you're going to get. those are the days when i can be found standing outside doors that have just been slammed in my face and silently flipping off the she-devil on the other side. fortunately, she has never opend the door to see this as it is AWFUL. okay, so it somewhat negates my application for parent of the year award, but, it makes me feel better...and she is none the wiser.
however, when it's funny, it's damn funny.
one saturday morning, bailey was plodding about the house. for a kid who bares graces 80lbs, she can make a thundering of noise when she is in a foul mood. this was one of those days where she tumbled out of bed just plain wrong, no reason needed. dominic and i usually try and avoid any conflict with her. so do the fuzzie bitches. animals know these things, and phae in particular has a strong bond with bai, sticks to her like glue, but puffs and runs when the kid is grouchy. so as i said, we were all tip-toeing around the crazy girl that morning-dom watched cartoons, i did mom things, and the fuzzies chased eachother willy-nilly around the entire house. at some point, bailey's absent little brain joined us long enough to feed the cats. as she picked up the food and water troughs, both half full and zombie walked around the table, the kitties tore into the kitchen. in disasterous slow motion i watched as phae catapulted herself on to the table, and mimzy followed suit. seeing bailey, phae attempted to skid toa stop, only to have mimzy hit her from behind with the gale force of a boulder rolling downhill. and both careened into my daughter. in panic, bailey startled and the contents of both bowls flew up into the air...and into the ceiling fan, spattering my entire kitchen with chow and water. then the cats fell to the floor in a heap. utter chaos in less than 8 seconds. and i saw it all.
i stared at bailey, wild-eyed, disoriented and covered in cat schmuck, for a couple seconds, and then the laughter began. fortunately from her as i couldn't hold it in any longer.
when the giggling dissolved i said "Whew! well that could have gone either way...". bailey smiled and said "it did. up and everywhere!"
Monday, February 28, 2011
the great switcharoo
now, far be it for me to bash childhood icons, but this year i am pissed at santa. granted, i am the one limping it along for the eight year old, but it seems he has me out witted.
the boy has asked me for an additional pet for months. apparently the fuzzy bitches aren't living up to their snuggle potential. all this time i have empahtically said "NO". so, my sweet lovely child writes his letter to santa this christmas and includes "i have been very good at taking care of the cats. i feed them every day. and even thou my mom says she won't get one, i would like you to bring me a fish". well shit balls. do i tell him santa isn't real or suck it and have an aquatic creepie under the tree christmas morning? yeah, you guessed it.
and he LOVED it. LOVED LOVED LOVED it. named it irvin, which actually means water (he put some thought into this). and when we went away for new year's weekend, he bought him a food disk.
now, irvin was alive when we got home. and the next morning. but that night while my boy is in the tub, the girl brings me the bowl...with a lifeless floater...and hisses "REPLACE HIM" damn it. knowing that this will absolutley destroy the child who spends time reading to the bowl, huny and i quickly run to walmart to replace the corpse.
not a one of those suckers look like irvin. there is one who is the same colors, only his orange, silver and black are on the top instead of on the belly, and this fish, i'm not kidding you here, is maybe only about a third the size. i am in freak out mode by now, not wanting to deal with the breakdown that will occur if he finds out his pet is dead. huny points out, the boy really only saw the fish for about fifteen hours before taking off to gramma's for the week, then going for the new years excursion. oofta. so we buy the not even close to the original irvin 2 and slip him into the bowl before dom can notice he's gone.
amazingly, it works. dominic is so unfamiliar with irvin 1, that irvin 2 flies under the radar for about a week. dom reads to him, spends time sitting and staring at the bowl, and talks to irvin 2.
then, the boy presents this quandary to me...
"mom, do you think irvin is okay?"
"ummm, he looks fine. why do you ask?"
"i don't know mom. i don't think he eats while i'm gone. he looks like he's lost weight."
the boy has asked me for an additional pet for months. apparently the fuzzy bitches aren't living up to their snuggle potential. all this time i have empahtically said "NO". so, my sweet lovely child writes his letter to santa this christmas and includes "i have been very good at taking care of the cats. i feed them every day. and even thou my mom says she won't get one, i would like you to bring me a fish". well shit balls. do i tell him santa isn't real or suck it and have an aquatic creepie under the tree christmas morning? yeah, you guessed it.
and he LOVED it. LOVED LOVED LOVED it. named it irvin, which actually means water (he put some thought into this). and when we went away for new year's weekend, he bought him a food disk.
now, irvin was alive when we got home. and the next morning. but that night while my boy is in the tub, the girl brings me the bowl...with a lifeless floater...and hisses "REPLACE HIM" damn it. knowing that this will absolutley destroy the child who spends time reading to the bowl, huny and i quickly run to walmart to replace the corpse.
not a one of those suckers look like irvin. there is one who is the same colors, only his orange, silver and black are on the top instead of on the belly, and this fish, i'm not kidding you here, is maybe only about a third the size. i am in freak out mode by now, not wanting to deal with the breakdown that will occur if he finds out his pet is dead. huny points out, the boy really only saw the fish for about fifteen hours before taking off to gramma's for the week, then going for the new years excursion. oofta. so we buy the not even close to the original irvin 2 and slip him into the bowl before dom can notice he's gone.
amazingly, it works. dominic is so unfamiliar with irvin 1, that irvin 2 flies under the radar for about a week. dom reads to him, spends time sitting and staring at the bowl, and talks to irvin 2.
then, the boy presents this quandary to me...
"mom, do you think irvin is okay?"
"ummm, he looks fine. why do you ask?"
"i don't know mom. i don't think he eats while i'm gone. he looks like he's lost weight."
Thursday, February 24, 2011
driver's education
monday i pulled my two year old, yet impecable "big blue bitch" out of the garage...and ran smack into the basketball hoop, which apparently had been moved into the driveway by the spawn over the weekend. now since i wasn't expecting this little treat to start off my morning, it startled the hell outa me. so my natural response was to, whoops, jerk the wheel of the car...thus running it into the garage door. being the calm individual i am, i muttered some random explicatives. okay, i think i hollered "FUUUUCK!". i got out of the car, and yup, scraped up the left rear bumper. i didn't have the heart to look at the front, so plopped back door in the car and pushed the garagedoor opener. and nothing. i poked it vigorously several times before giving up and releasing the door mannually and texting sweetie to tell him i'd bunged the car AND the house.
i went to drop the spawn and low and behold, the boy does not have school. is presidents day really a skip-worthy holiday??? bah.
sweetie called at lunch and told me he had fixed the door. i sing his praises as THE MAN and then he says "how bad is the car beck?". i answer that i don't know. honestly, i don't. i was afraid to look. and so i ask why.
"because pumpkin...you ripped the sensor out of the wall and tore the wires free, so i suspect your bumper may be hanging off".
i went to drop the spawn and low and behold, the boy does not have school. is presidents day really a skip-worthy holiday??? bah.
sweetie called at lunch and told me he had fixed the door. i sing his praises as THE MAN and then he says "how bad is the car beck?". i answer that i don't know. honestly, i don't. i was afraid to look. and so i ask why.
"because pumpkin...you ripped the sensor out of the wall and tore the wires free, so i suspect your bumper may be hanging off".
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
gets that from her mamma!
more tests for miss bailey this morning, which means yet ANOTHER pregnancy test. we have become accustomed to this, however, the techs usually aren't.
this morning's phlebotomist couldn't have been more than 21...22..and she asked bai if she knew what we were drawing her blood for, and nervously looked at me after asking. "yeah," my thirteen year old mumbles, after all, it is 6AM, "my fourth pregnancy test in three weeks". and the phlebo goes completely white.
"you know, " i say, "if any of these come back positive, you won't need any more thyroid studies..." and the tech looks up at me, obviously horrified.
bailey notices she looks panicy and says "she means because i'll be DEAD."
this morning's phlebotomist couldn't have been more than 21...22..and she asked bai if she knew what we were drawing her blood for, and nervously looked at me after asking. "yeah," my thirteen year old mumbles, after all, it is 6AM, "my fourth pregnancy test in three weeks". and the phlebo goes completely white.
"you know, " i say, "if any of these come back positive, you won't need any more thyroid studies..." and the tech looks up at me, obviously horrified.
bailey notices she looks panicy and says "she means because i'll be DEAD."
Monday, February 14, 2011
metal detectors
when i got divorced, i think it hit my father as hard as it hit me. he and the ex were best buddies...hunting, fishing trips, vacations. and because i am his little girl. still to this day, at nearly forty, i am "daddy's girl". so i was not the least bit surprised when he offerred to come be my moral support at my divorce proceedings. unfortunately, because of the nature of the last few months of our marriage, i knew there were a lot of things i wasn't prepared for my father to hear, even though i'm sure he already suspected or knew most of them. so i tried to talk him out of it.
we stood together outside the courtroom, and i watched his face fall, then the disgust rise up as the demon groom walked past us. i felt horrible, knowing my father had lost not just his son-in-law, but his trust in a good friend. so i turned to him one last time and said, "dad, you don't have to do this."
my father hugged me tighter than he ever has before and said, "huny, of course i'm going in there. i'm your father and you need me." and then he hugged me even tighter...
...and said "besides, who else is going to smuggle the gun into the courtroom?"
we stood together outside the courtroom, and i watched his face fall, then the disgust rise up as the demon groom walked past us. i felt horrible, knowing my father had lost not just his son-in-law, but his trust in a good friend. so i turned to him one last time and said, "dad, you don't have to do this."
my father hugged me tighter than he ever has before and said, "huny, of course i'm going in there. i'm your father and you need me." and then he hugged me even tighter...
...and said "besides, who else is going to smuggle the gun into the courtroom?"
Friday, February 11, 2011
extortion
a couple years ago, miss bailey took the american red cross babysitting course. she learned a lot, and despite her shortcomings, she's actually very good with children and can be an excellent sitter.
now, the key for me, is if i've asked to watch her brother as a favor, or as an actual sitter. this is directly in proportion with the quality of care i get from her. money equals qualified sitter. no money equals older sister bossing little brother.
one evening, on very short notice, my sitter was unable to make it, and i was forced to ask miss bailey to help. this threw in another dimension, as she sometimes has transition problems. not that nite. she was quite agreeable to it. i asked her how much she wanted for the hour and a half that i would be gone. after a brief pause, she retorted "twenty bucks." to which i immediately replied, "are you kidding me???" without skipping a beat, that child said, "since you said it that way, thirty. i am my mother's daughter you know." and grinned and walked away.
now, the key for me, is if i've asked to watch her brother as a favor, or as an actual sitter. this is directly in proportion with the quality of care i get from her. money equals qualified sitter. no money equals older sister bossing little brother.
one evening, on very short notice, my sitter was unable to make it, and i was forced to ask miss bailey to help. this threw in another dimension, as she sometimes has transition problems. not that nite. she was quite agreeable to it. i asked her how much she wanted for the hour and a half that i would be gone. after a brief pause, she retorted "twenty bucks." to which i immediately replied, "are you kidding me???" without skipping a beat, that child said, "since you said it that way, thirty. i am my mother's daughter you know." and grinned and walked away.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
your sarcasm or mine?
children's hospital went okay today. we got some answers, yet still need a nuc med test next week. turns out miss bailey has hyperthyroidism and a "diffuse toxic goiter", and the doc said something about it being "lumpy" (yes, this is actually the phrase he used) and not being totally comfortable with that.
unfortunately, children's couldn't get us in today as there are diet requirements and it's a two day study, so we decided to schedule in lincoln. scheduler tracy got us all squared away and was giving us our pre-scan instructions. miss bailey has to have another pregnancy test (we find this uproariously funny, and mildly annoying). when they got to the prep, they of course told her no gum or irritants, to which bailey mumbles "Well i guess i won't have a cigarette for breakfast that morning". the scheduler laughed and said, "yeah and you'd better skip that beer before you go too."
i love people with a good sense of humor. i mean come on...working at children's can not be a particularly happy job. i'm sure it's rewarding, but a good chuckle has got to make it less depressing to be around all those poor sugars and their health problems. hooray scheduler tracy! and to my daughter for being a total smartass!
unfortunately, children's couldn't get us in today as there are diet requirements and it's a two day study, so we decided to schedule in lincoln. scheduler tracy got us all squared away and was giving us our pre-scan instructions. miss bailey has to have another pregnancy test (we find this uproariously funny, and mildly annoying). when they got to the prep, they of course told her no gum or irritants, to which bailey mumbles "Well i guess i won't have a cigarette for breakfast that morning". the scheduler laughed and said, "yeah and you'd better skip that beer before you go too."
i love people with a good sense of humor. i mean come on...working at children's can not be a particularly happy job. i'm sure it's rewarding, but a good chuckle has got to make it less depressing to be around all those poor sugars and their health problems. hooray scheduler tracy! and to my daughter for being a total smartass!
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
i'm sure that's not the normal response...
today, i got a phone call to pre-register bailey for her appointment at children's hopsital tomorrow. we got to the point where the gal was verifying insurance, and they had everything right-id number, date of birth-except my ex's name. they had it as nathan...which it isn't. i corrected her and she asked if i was sure about his name. "well," i replied, "unless he lied about THAT for 14 years as well, which is a possiblity, yes. however, if this nathan is a better father than he is, i'll take him."
that poor woman took a good two minutes to stop laughing and regain her composure so she could could the correct information.
that poor woman took a good two minutes to stop laughing and regain her composure so she could could the correct information.
Monday, February 7, 2011
so she named me sarah...
so like i said, i've met my birthmom. and she is a full on whackjob (it's actually where bailey gets it from. my mumsy is bipolar but does NOT take her meds...feels that pot is medicinal enough. awesome.).
when i was getting married i looked for her. not real seriously and only the demon groom and i knew i was doing so. and it didnt' go anywhere and the wedding got in the way.
so a few years later, after we find bailey's pinneal cyst (little tumor-like thing pushing on her pituitray) i go great guns. i had a name, because while my folks where signing the adoption papers, the pen ran out of ink and the lawyer left it all out in front of my parents while he went and got another one. my mom didn't tell anyone she'd seen the name because she was so afraid they'd come and take me away. I've always known i was adopted and my parents were always supportive of the idea of locating her (i have a number of weird medical problems, so info would be great) so she shares this with me and i plugged it into a geneology website. and i wait. and nothing. and i eventually forget i've been looking again.
nearly two years later on st. patrick's day, i come home and find an email from this person named "pat" who says it thinks my mother is it's sister. leaves me a phone number and everything. i call my mom and tell her and she asks what i want to do. "i want to throw up" i say. she tells me to go do it and hurry up and call her back. that makes me laugh and sets me straight (i HATE to puke. HATE IT. so much that i cry while i do it, and if you touch me while i'm puking, i puke more violently. out the tear ducts and everything). listen, she says, technically it's a holiday, and we know your mom was from an irish family. they are probably out erin go bragh and won't even answer the phone. i ask her if she's sure this is what i should do, that it won't offend her. "becky," my mother says, "you are bought and paid for. i am not concerned with losing you". so i make the call...
"huwhoa?" says the voice at the other end. shit. shit shit shit. i have dialed a drunken irishman. "uhhhh this is becky, you sent me a message about maybe your sister being my mom?" please gawd, do not let this lunatic be the dad. do not let me be an inbred leprechaun. "oh!!! uhhhhhh WAIT!!!" and i hear shuffling. the voice comes back and says "you must think i'm some drunk. i am so sorry. i had oral surgery today and my mouth is packed with gauze!" seriously, huge relief. i talk to this guy, my uncle pat, for a long time, discussing what i really want from his sister.
now here's the thing. i am a happy, centered individual. i have an amazing family, and i just don't have that empty space that a lot of adoptees talk about. i love my parents. all i really wanted was medical history and my records, since i can't access them myself. and as far as the babyhouse goes? the most selfless thing she did was to decide to go ahead and carry me so that they could have me. which turns out to be a good thing. pat and i communicate over a couple days and he tells me she-kathy-wants nothing to do with me. i learn all sorts of interesting stuff about her-like that giving me up may have been the last truly sane thing she did-and he promises to send me some pictures of her.
that sunday, my phone rings. it's her. now, i can go on to tell you about this fantastic reunion conversation...but that's not how it went. she's paranoid that i want something other than info. and she's very defensive. and discombobulated...in shock i suppose. but we end it that she'll get me my medical records, and i actually learned a bit from her. she then says that she probably won't call me ever again, but that every year, on my birthday, she wonders if i'm okay, and now she won't have to wonder any more. i'm good with that.
so, in brief, here's what happened over the next couple months. she calls, incessantly, and she is a fruitcake. now my uncle, and my aunt, they are super cool. i actually fostered a relationship with my aunt linda and would have dinner with her a couple times a month. i look like her, have her build and personality...she used to laugh and say i should have been HER kid. unfortunately, while i was pregnant with dominic, she died of rectal cancer. "couldn't get get something glamouous like breast cancer," she said, "died of asshole cancer will be on my death certificate!".
the babyhouse begins contacting me more frequently, even sitting outside my house in my drive waiting for me to come home from work. eventually she sends me a letter saying SHE WENT TO MY HOMETOWN. holy biscuits!!! she says she went "kind of undercover" and didn't tell anyone who she was and tried to locate my folks. GASP!!!
eventually this behavior just got worse and worse. for someone that didn't want anything to do with me, this lady sure was infringing on my territory. it finally came to a point where she showed up on my doorstep one day and, in short, i told her if she didn't back off i would get a restraining order. i get a christmas card now and then, and always a birthday card. i firmly believe that if she would have kept me, i'd be living in a trailer somewhere, strung out with about nine kids of my own...or dead.
so...thanks to her for having the courage to be a pregnant teenager, and giving me the best possible parents i could have. i couldn't be less sarah :)
when i was getting married i looked for her. not real seriously and only the demon groom and i knew i was doing so. and it didnt' go anywhere and the wedding got in the way.
so a few years later, after we find bailey's pinneal cyst (little tumor-like thing pushing on her pituitray) i go great guns. i had a name, because while my folks where signing the adoption papers, the pen ran out of ink and the lawyer left it all out in front of my parents while he went and got another one. my mom didn't tell anyone she'd seen the name because she was so afraid they'd come and take me away. I've always known i was adopted and my parents were always supportive of the idea of locating her (i have a number of weird medical problems, so info would be great) so she shares this with me and i plugged it into a geneology website. and i wait. and nothing. and i eventually forget i've been looking again.
nearly two years later on st. patrick's day, i come home and find an email from this person named "pat" who says it thinks my mother is it's sister. leaves me a phone number and everything. i call my mom and tell her and she asks what i want to do. "i want to throw up" i say. she tells me to go do it and hurry up and call her back. that makes me laugh and sets me straight (i HATE to puke. HATE IT. so much that i cry while i do it, and if you touch me while i'm puking, i puke more violently. out the tear ducts and everything). listen, she says, technically it's a holiday, and we know your mom was from an irish family. they are probably out erin go bragh and won't even answer the phone. i ask her if she's sure this is what i should do, that it won't offend her. "becky," my mother says, "you are bought and paid for. i am not concerned with losing you". so i make the call...
"huwhoa?" says the voice at the other end. shit. shit shit shit. i have dialed a drunken irishman. "uhhhh this is becky, you sent me a message about maybe your sister being my mom?" please gawd, do not let this lunatic be the dad. do not let me be an inbred leprechaun. "oh!!! uhhhhhh WAIT!!!" and i hear shuffling. the voice comes back and says "you must think i'm some drunk. i am so sorry. i had oral surgery today and my mouth is packed with gauze!" seriously, huge relief. i talk to this guy, my uncle pat, for a long time, discussing what i really want from his sister.
now here's the thing. i am a happy, centered individual. i have an amazing family, and i just don't have that empty space that a lot of adoptees talk about. i love my parents. all i really wanted was medical history and my records, since i can't access them myself. and as far as the babyhouse goes? the most selfless thing she did was to decide to go ahead and carry me so that they could have me. which turns out to be a good thing. pat and i communicate over a couple days and he tells me she-kathy-wants nothing to do with me. i learn all sorts of interesting stuff about her-like that giving me up may have been the last truly sane thing she did-and he promises to send me some pictures of her.
that sunday, my phone rings. it's her. now, i can go on to tell you about this fantastic reunion conversation...but that's not how it went. she's paranoid that i want something other than info. and she's very defensive. and discombobulated...in shock i suppose. but we end it that she'll get me my medical records, and i actually learned a bit from her. she then says that she probably won't call me ever again, but that every year, on my birthday, she wonders if i'm okay, and now she won't have to wonder any more. i'm good with that.
so, in brief, here's what happened over the next couple months. she calls, incessantly, and she is a fruitcake. now my uncle, and my aunt, they are super cool. i actually fostered a relationship with my aunt linda and would have dinner with her a couple times a month. i look like her, have her build and personality...she used to laugh and say i should have been HER kid. unfortunately, while i was pregnant with dominic, she died of rectal cancer. "couldn't get get something glamouous like breast cancer," she said, "died of asshole cancer will be on my death certificate!".
the babyhouse begins contacting me more frequently, even sitting outside my house in my drive waiting for me to come home from work. eventually she sends me a letter saying SHE WENT TO MY HOMETOWN. holy biscuits!!! she says she went "kind of undercover" and didn't tell anyone who she was and tried to locate my folks. GASP!!!
eventually this behavior just got worse and worse. for someone that didn't want anything to do with me, this lady sure was infringing on my territory. it finally came to a point where she showed up on my doorstep one day and, in short, i told her if she didn't back off i would get a restraining order. i get a christmas card now and then, and always a birthday card. i firmly believe that if she would have kept me, i'd be living in a trailer somewhere, strung out with about nine kids of my own...or dead.
so...thanks to her for having the courage to be a pregnant teenager, and giving me the best possible parents i could have. i couldn't be less sarah :)
don't eat the red m & m s
i will never deny that i am a bit left of center. pretending to be normal is exhausting. i have my own special brand of crazy and it works for me...mostly. (sometimes it really works against me, but it's part of who i am. i sit and cry on the shower floor and it passes.)
the girls at work laugh their asses of at me-probably more than i even realize. like when we get m & ms. i don't eat the red ones. ever. not even if it was the last m on earth and i hadn't eaten in a week. eons ago, the red dye used to cause cancer. it's why it was taken off the market for a while. and i don't care how you reformulate it, i WILL NOT eat the red ones-you never know. i will shake the bowl (as i find it rude to "pick" thru to avoid the reds...and i might accidentally touch one) until i get the other ms out. i only eat the natural colored ones (so the blue ones are out too. not dangerous, i just can't bring myself to eat them).
in fact i won't eat much of anything with very obvious red dye in it. definitely not frosting-that even tastes wrong. nothing cherry pretty much...the dye just freaks me out. i did accidently ingest a red skittle at work a couple weeks ago. one of the girls saw it go in my mouth and said "chew it!!!" i couldn't...i spit it out while she laughed uproariously. "you might die you know!" she howled. "i might! you may come back and find me slumped on my desk or in convulsions. all from that damn red dye!!!" and then i ate all the green and purple ones just to dilute the red dye left on my tongue.
ramblings of a mad woman? look it up. don't eat the red m & ms...
the girls at work laugh their asses of at me-probably more than i even realize. like when we get m & ms. i don't eat the red ones. ever. not even if it was the last m on earth and i hadn't eaten in a week. eons ago, the red dye used to cause cancer. it's why it was taken off the market for a while. and i don't care how you reformulate it, i WILL NOT eat the red ones-you never know. i will shake the bowl (as i find it rude to "pick" thru to avoid the reds...and i might accidentally touch one) until i get the other ms out. i only eat the natural colored ones (so the blue ones are out too. not dangerous, i just can't bring myself to eat them).
in fact i won't eat much of anything with very obvious red dye in it. definitely not frosting-that even tastes wrong. nothing cherry pretty much...the dye just freaks me out. i did accidently ingest a red skittle at work a couple weeks ago. one of the girls saw it go in my mouth and said "chew it!!!" i couldn't...i spit it out while she laughed uproariously. "you might die you know!" she howled. "i might! you may come back and find me slumped on my desk or in convulsions. all from that damn red dye!!!" and then i ate all the green and purple ones just to dilute the red dye left on my tongue.
ramblings of a mad woman? look it up. don't eat the red m & ms...
equity...
if you ever go through a divorce, know that it's going to get messy. no matter how amicable you intend for it to be, it just doesn't work that way. especially when you've married a soul vaccuum who thinks the world owes him something.
so in the little letter that i found in my house when SOMEONE had taken the day (while i was at work) to empty out our home and bank accounts, among other things, was the line "i just want compensation". now how i missed this the first 18 or so times i read it was beyond me. must have been in shock. but he wasn't kidding. all that matters to this man is money, and his own self-gratification.
when it came down to it, the ex's demands included me selling the house and giving him half the equity. never-you-mind this is where our children had lived their entire lives, nor that the credit card debt he ran up in our name would eventually force me to file bankruptcy (and file him as a debtor:) so that i couldn't get a home loan...he wanted compensation for a sixteen year relationship.
lesson one, dear reader...be savvy. becasue i truly had no choice, i sold the house.
to my father.
for a dollar.
so in the little letter that i found in my house when SOMEONE had taken the day (while i was at work) to empty out our home and bank accounts, among other things, was the line "i just want compensation". now how i missed this the first 18 or so times i read it was beyond me. must have been in shock. but he wasn't kidding. all that matters to this man is money, and his own self-gratification.
when it came down to it, the ex's demands included me selling the house and giving him half the equity. never-you-mind this is where our children had lived their entire lives, nor that the credit card debt he ran up in our name would eventually force me to file bankruptcy (and file him as a debtor:) so that i couldn't get a home loan...he wanted compensation for a sixteen year relationship.
lesson one, dear reader...be savvy. becasue i truly had no choice, i sold the house.
to my father.
for a dollar.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
"mom, there's a poop on the floor"
surely i did not hear that right. i open one eye, only to view a grey furry cat cheek. awesome. i often wake to this view as phae (fuzzy bitch one) sleeps on my pillow. i thank the stars she is not a farter...she is a lady afterall.
"mom? did you hear me???" 7:41am (damnit!!!)
i trudge up the stairs and find the boy, who has shed his footie jammies and is plopped deep in the recliner in a nest of scary bunnies. scary bunny is his life friend. had him since his second easter...it is lime green and the stuffing is centered in only two parts of it's enormous body from being well-loved...and just flat out creepie. two years ago, bailey gave dominic it's sister, strawberry, who was practically brand new and hot pink, so i have years of these freakie stuffies to enjoy. they seemed like a good idea when i bought them. i have to figure out how to put pictures on here so you too can experience the horror.
i look around the living room, and indeed, there is a tootsie roll laying in the middle of my carpet. now, granted, this is the carpet that caught fire a couple weeks ago thanks to a faulty extension cord that is going to be replaced in the next couple weeks, but still. "you can't get a tissue and pick this up?" i ask. the boy just stares at me. so that's a no.
as i go to gingerly pick up the treasure with a tissue, both of the fuzzie bitches are now staring at me. i hate them sometimes. as i kneel down, literally cursing them, i feel a cold sensation in the knee of my jammie pants. ACK! i have kneeled in cat puke!!! ack ack ack!!! no poo is this, but a neatly bound, COLD, barfed up hairball. OOOOOOOOGGGGG!
the dance begins. my wrist snaps and the treasure flips across the living room, with the cats in hot pursuit. the boy begins squealing, first in horror as the vomit package flies by, then in laughter as mom begins convulsing with the willies. as i hop around the living room, peeling off the puke-kneed pants, mimzy (fuzzie bitch number two, and the trouble maker) begins to bat the puke package across the kitchen floor. at this point my gag reflex kicks in and i stiffle what can only be described as the sound a bull frog makes, only with more force. "MIMZY!!!" dominic is yelling and goes to rescue the tissue, which he picks up and tosses in the garbage.
"you couldn't have just done that in the first place?" i ask, sitting on the floor (not in the puke spot), wadding up my soiled fuzzie jammie pants.
"well...yeah," he says sheepishly,"but that sure was funny."
"mom? did you hear me???" 7:41am (damnit!!!)
i trudge up the stairs and find the boy, who has shed his footie jammies and is plopped deep in the recliner in a nest of scary bunnies. scary bunny is his life friend. had him since his second easter...it is lime green and the stuffing is centered in only two parts of it's enormous body from being well-loved...and just flat out creepie. two years ago, bailey gave dominic it's sister, strawberry, who was practically brand new and hot pink, so i have years of these freakie stuffies to enjoy. they seemed like a good idea when i bought them. i have to figure out how to put pictures on here so you too can experience the horror.
i look around the living room, and indeed, there is a tootsie roll laying in the middle of my carpet. now, granted, this is the carpet that caught fire a couple weeks ago thanks to a faulty extension cord that is going to be replaced in the next couple weeks, but still. "you can't get a tissue and pick this up?" i ask. the boy just stares at me. so that's a no.
as i go to gingerly pick up the treasure with a tissue, both of the fuzzie bitches are now staring at me. i hate them sometimes. as i kneel down, literally cursing them, i feel a cold sensation in the knee of my jammie pants. ACK! i have kneeled in cat puke!!! ack ack ack!!! no poo is this, but a neatly bound, COLD, barfed up hairball. OOOOOOOOGGGGG!
the dance begins. my wrist snaps and the treasure flips across the living room, with the cats in hot pursuit. the boy begins squealing, first in horror as the vomit package flies by, then in laughter as mom begins convulsing with the willies. as i hop around the living room, peeling off the puke-kneed pants, mimzy (fuzzie bitch number two, and the trouble maker) begins to bat the puke package across the kitchen floor. at this point my gag reflex kicks in and i stiffle what can only be described as the sound a bull frog makes, only with more force. "MIMZY!!!" dominic is yelling and goes to rescue the tissue, which he picks up and tosses in the garbage.
"you couldn't have just done that in the first place?" i ask, sitting on the floor (not in the puke spot), wadding up my soiled fuzzie jammie pants.
"well...yeah," he says sheepishly,"but that sure was funny."
Saturday, February 5, 2011
short on the ex...
no, asstastic, one birthday card and two christmas cards after four years of no contact does not consitute "non-custodial parenting".
guess what? i don't give a flying pig that you had a baby this year and perhaps your guilty conscious...or more over your new wife (yeah, you know the one...you had an affair with her while i was pregnant?) probably out of fear that the same thing would happen to her...reminded you that you even had these kids. thank you for back tracking YEARS of therapy and feelings of abandonment.
oh whoops, did i mention that while i've gotten past being bitter that I still HATE you??? it's like a deck of cards jerko...you used to be the king of hearts and diamonds...and now i just wish i would have had you spade or clubbed.
ummm hmmmm. there'll be more on this later too...
guess what? i don't give a flying pig that you had a baby this year and perhaps your guilty conscious...or more over your new wife (yeah, you know the one...you had an affair with her while i was pregnant?) probably out of fear that the same thing would happen to her...reminded you that you even had these kids. thank you for back tracking YEARS of therapy and feelings of abandonment.
oh whoops, did i mention that while i've gotten past being bitter that I still HATE you??? it's like a deck of cards jerko...you used to be the king of hearts and diamonds...and now i just wish i would have had you spade or clubbed.
ummm hmmmm. there'll be more on this later too...
another lame saturday nite
it's 10:03pm on saturday and i have just been dubbed "the best mom ever" because i have let dominic watch another movie. in reality i'm hoping that staying up for this will cause him to sleep past the usual wake up time of slightly before 7am ("it's sunnytime mom!"). yet another example of my fine parenting skills. now, in all honesty, i'm a more than decent mom. i'm definitely not the parent i thought i'd be, nor am i the mom i was when i was married. but i haven't killed either of them, and while i completely understand child abuse, i don't condone it. but once, just once, i would like to sleep until after 8am on a weekend!!!
it's a winner of a nite because bailey-the bipolar one (and oh, did i mention she is also 13? do you have any idea what THAT is like??? teenaged, hormonal AND nutty? it's a wonder i don't drink more) is spending the nite at a friend's, and the boy and i had mamma time. he's easy...we could hang out in our footie jammies and he'd think it was the equivalent of taking him to disney. any time he can get with me alone is special and at eight, he still truly appreciates it. tonite, i took him to a pottery paint studio and then to mcspew for "dinner" (no i don't actually eat that crap, but i will sit and drink hi-c). we spent a delightful time painting-he chose a star shaped box, and me a mug. he was a little ditraught with the fact that when he asked if we could all share the mug that i promptly responded "absolutely not!". you see, i am a germaphobe. i have NEVER shared a drink or a snack with my child, i do not nibble off other's food or use people's chapstick. the surest way to get a free drink from me is to touch your lips to my pepsi can or straw. gag!!! i've come a long way in the last couple years-there's a few people that, if i am DYING of thirst, that i will "waterfall" out of their glass, but otherwise i'm kind of a freak about it. i have this saying about what i have no compunction about putting my mouth, but since i'm new to this, i'm not sure if it would get sensored and then this bit of hillarity would be over.
so anyway, my mortified boy says "you wouldn't share your mug? not even with me?". and keep in mind he looks like he's going to well up as he's asking me this. then he adds "i would share my star box with you...". "really," i say. "and what is that box for?" "wishes." says my bright spot. well sheit, don't i feel like an arse now?!? let me tell you, there is nothing more pathetic than your eight year old looking wistfully at you, and seeing in his face that you, mom of the year, would not share your freshly painted strawberry fields pink mug with him if he were parched.
"i would share my star box," he says again and smiles at me. "awww huny, that is so sweet," i say. "but no dice on the mug. it's mine."
i thought the girl behind the counter was going to pee herself.
it's a winner of a nite because bailey-the bipolar one (and oh, did i mention she is also 13? do you have any idea what THAT is like??? teenaged, hormonal AND nutty? it's a wonder i don't drink more) is spending the nite at a friend's, and the boy and i had mamma time. he's easy...we could hang out in our footie jammies and he'd think it was the equivalent of taking him to disney. any time he can get with me alone is special and at eight, he still truly appreciates it. tonite, i took him to a pottery paint studio and then to mcspew for "dinner" (no i don't actually eat that crap, but i will sit and drink hi-c). we spent a delightful time painting-he chose a star shaped box, and me a mug. he was a little ditraught with the fact that when he asked if we could all share the mug that i promptly responded "absolutely not!". you see, i am a germaphobe. i have NEVER shared a drink or a snack with my child, i do not nibble off other's food or use people's chapstick. the surest way to get a free drink from me is to touch your lips to my pepsi can or straw. gag!!! i've come a long way in the last couple years-there's a few people that, if i am DYING of thirst, that i will "waterfall" out of their glass, but otherwise i'm kind of a freak about it. i have this saying about what i have no compunction about putting my mouth, but since i'm new to this, i'm not sure if it would get sensored and then this bit of hillarity would be over.
so anyway, my mortified boy says "you wouldn't share your mug? not even with me?". and keep in mind he looks like he's going to well up as he's asking me this. then he adds "i would share my star box with you...". "really," i say. "and what is that box for?" "wishes." says my bright spot. well sheit, don't i feel like an arse now?!? let me tell you, there is nothing more pathetic than your eight year old looking wistfully at you, and seeing in his face that you, mom of the year, would not share your freshly painted strawberry fields pink mug with him if he were parched.
"i would share my star box," he says again and smiles at me. "awww huny, that is so sweet," i say. "but no dice on the mug. it's mine."
i thought the girl behind the counter was going to pee herself.
the beginning...
so...for years my friends have said "you should write a book" and "i don't know why you don't blog"...and after nearly three years of working on a book that never seems to end, as every time i think i'm done, something else happens in my life, i'm taking the easy way out! hopefully this will catch a following and then who knows what i'll be forced to do :)
first, i don't capitalize. second, i write how i speak, and people seem to like it that way. third, i am super picky about grammar and spelling, but i spell how i want to half the time. fourth, pink. enough said.
there's no real starting point...my entire life is better than cable. but as for background, i'm the oldest of three and the only girl. i suppose i should mention i'm adopted, and i've known since i can remember. i have two children-a product of my union with satan. the older of the two, my daughter, is diagnosed bipolar, ocd and spd. this makes for great comedy as well as absolute frustration, sometimes within five minutes of eachother. the younger, my son, is in that stage where he says the strangest things, and that fits in just fine here. he also chooses to rarely wear clothes, which is becoming a bit of a challenge. there's also two cats in this portable circus, we call them the fuzzy bitches.
be forewarned...i have razor sharp wit and a tongue to match. everything that you'll read here is true without embelishment. in my house, we make fun of mental health...we have to or we'd cry, and we do our share of that too. i've always spoke my mind and it gets me into trouble sometimes. but you'll find i have this ridiculously large heart that gets in the way sometimes. and a touch of crazy to go with it all.
oh, the name "surviving sarah"...? when i met my birth mother (MUCH more on that later), she said she'd named me sarah ('with an 'h') in utero, and as she originally went to a doctor to have me aborted, i always imagined that i survived being sarah. and continue to do so every day.
and so it begins...
first, i don't capitalize. second, i write how i speak, and people seem to like it that way. third, i am super picky about grammar and spelling, but i spell how i want to half the time. fourth, pink. enough said.
there's no real starting point...my entire life is better than cable. but as for background, i'm the oldest of three and the only girl. i suppose i should mention i'm adopted, and i've known since i can remember. i have two children-a product of my union with satan. the older of the two, my daughter, is diagnosed bipolar, ocd and spd. this makes for great comedy as well as absolute frustration, sometimes within five minutes of eachother. the younger, my son, is in that stage where he says the strangest things, and that fits in just fine here. he also chooses to rarely wear clothes, which is becoming a bit of a challenge. there's also two cats in this portable circus, we call them the fuzzy bitches.
be forewarned...i have razor sharp wit and a tongue to match. everything that you'll read here is true without embelishment. in my house, we make fun of mental health...we have to or we'd cry, and we do our share of that too. i've always spoke my mind and it gets me into trouble sometimes. but you'll find i have this ridiculously large heart that gets in the way sometimes. and a touch of crazy to go with it all.
oh, the name "surviving sarah"...? when i met my birth mother (MUCH more on that later), she said she'd named me sarah ('with an 'h') in utero, and as she originally went to a doctor to have me aborted, i always imagined that i survived being sarah. and continue to do so every day.
and so it begins...
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