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Wednesday, December 17, 2008

Snip, Snip

My oldest daughter has beautiful, long blonde hair. It is that gorgeous light blonde that people pay serious money for. I love it. She loves it.

Yesterday, though, she cut it.

I picked her up from school, and as I was loading her into the car, I see this big cut across her hair. I start to look, and there are two sections, one on either side of her face, cut!!

Now, she had already accidentally cut a small piece of hair on Sunday. We were doing homework, cutting out pictures from a newspaper, and she wasn't paying attention. She let her hair get under the paper, and her safety scissors just snipped right through all of it. I'm sure that was still floating around in her mind.

What I saw while loading her, though, was about 3 times the amount of the accidental cut.
I ask her who cut it.
"Someone."

Who is someone?

"I don't remember."

That was when i gave her the "You have one chance to tell me the absolute truth, and if you don't the punishment for lying in addition." speech.

She fessed up.

"Ok, ok. I did it. We didn't have a sniping project today, and I wanted my hair shorter so I snipped it."

Just like that.

So, now it is shorter, at least in sections. Part of her punishment is that I am not fixing what she did right away. She cut it. So, she can walk around with some funky hair for a couple of days.

Then, on Saturday, the most traumatic thing of all, she is getting a hair cut. See, she doesn't really want short hair. She cried, and cried when I told her I was going to cut her hair. My husband threatened to Sinead O'Connor if it ever happened again. Now, I'm not down with that, and I promptly have him the look when he said it. However, I am going to have to take off about 2 to 3 inches to even out what she did. Maybe more. I hope not. Either way, I know she is going to be really, really upset to see her hair go. I hope she really learns her lesson with just this one cut.

Tuesday, December 16, 2008

Papa the Sub

My daughter had a substitute in school again Monday. This time, they couldn't get even the sub that thinks my daughter has "quite the personality". Instead, Lilly comes home telling us all about Papa. You see, that's what he told the kids to call him, because he is a grandfather. No really. He did.

Let me back up for a minute and tell you that first off, they didn't even have a sub for a few hours. In the morning, they split the entire class up and distributed them to other Kindergarten classes. Thankfully, Lilly got into on of the other rooms that I like.

When they finally got someone to sub, they brought all the kids back to their own class, with Papa. Now, I'm not ok with the name. I am glad he has grand kids, but my child isn't one of them. She has no reason be calling her teacher Papa. In fact, I told her that if she was ever in that situation again, she needed to tell the sub that she would like to call him by a more respectful name, ask his (or her) last name, then call them Mr. or Ms. Whatever. I mean, what was wrong with this guy? This isn't story time at the local library, here. This is school.

So, then I ask her, what did you do after you got back to your class.
"Nothing."

Nothing?? Really? Now, I don't know about you, but it has been my experience that if you don't give 5 and 6 year old kids something to do, they will find something, and it won't be what you want. Usually, that means they find and create chaos. Utter chaos. In this case, that is exactly what happened. Their real teacher was back today, even though she is still ill, and she was shocked at the state of the room. She said that there are markers and glue pens everywhere, all with caps off. There is trash, and stuff just thrown all over the room. I feel bad for her. Here she is sick, and this is what she comes back to. A room full of chaos created by 20 5 or 6 year olds, and the 5 or 6 year olds that did it. Man.

After a lot of questions, Lilly did tell us that they sang some songs, and he told them all about how he used to be a Captain in the U.S. Navy. He said he was really worried about who was going to take over his ship when he retired.

Ok.

He didn't end the day well, either. First, there was some nonsense at the end of the day about all the kids being "guilty". I couldn't really understand exactly what seemed to have happened, but I think some of the kids told him that they got out of school earlier than they did. Now, whether they were confused or trying to trick him, I don't know, but he told the kids they were all guilty, even if they were not involved with the trickery.

His final poor judgement call was telling the kids that he wasn't ever going to come back because they were mean to him. According to my daughter, he then proceeded to fake cry.

Actually she said "Then he started to cry, but I think he was faking it because I looked and looked at his eyes, and I didn't see one tear."

You call out that big weird faker, Pook.

I talked to some other parents, and there were other stories. I feel that there is enough to warrant talking to the principal about it. I don't think Papa needs to come back to the class. Maybe he should stick to ships. The ships won't care if he fake cries.

You know, were not doing well with subs this year. So far, 2 out of 3 have had issues, or I have issues with them. Either way, not a good average for San Diego schools, or our kids.

Friday, December 12, 2008

Kiddie Formals

My daughter's elementary school had a formal dance tonight. You read that correctly. I did use the words elementary, school, formal, and dance in the same sentence on purpose. Not only did the school have a formal, but it was for all grades, K-5 together.

Now, please, someone tell me if I am the only parent out there that thinks this is a little on the wrong side. If the dance were a father/daughter type deal for the little ones, I could see that. However, a dance? A formal dance for 5 year olds? Some of those kids may have even just barely turned 5. I just don't get it.

I find the whole thing a bit absurd and even a little vulgar. I know that some of the 5th graders are going as couples, and I think it is totally in appropriate for the school to expose the little ones to that in a dance setting as well. Don't we already over sexualize our children these days, and over expose them to those kinds of things? Why should the school encourage that behaviour?

In fact, when it was planned by the PTO, they intended to have it be a full on chaperoned dance that you could drop your child off at.

The kids bought tickets for the dance. They were to get their pictures taken when they got in, and then they had refreshments. Well, they served the kids hot chocolate and nachos. Again, you read that correctly. They served kids in formal clothes nachos.

I told a friend of mine about it, and that they sold tickets. She pro ceded to ask how much the hotel rooms for after were also. See, she was making the point of how I feel; Five year old children do not need to be at a dance where other kids are going as a couple.

The worst part, though, is that my daughter is the one who gets the raw deal out of it. A lot of her little friends are going. She isn't. All day Friday, she and I kept getting ask if she were going during the pick up and drop off at school. I told her we would do something else special, but of course, she feels left out. I can't tell you how much that upsets me as a parent, to be the one who makes a choice that causes my child to feel left out.

I know that as her parent, I will make decisions that won't be popular with her, and apparently some times even other parents. I have to stick to my gut, though, and my gut says this isn't a good thing. If it starts now, where will it go, and where will it end? I choose to keep her on the straight and narrow path. It may be more difficult, but it leads to a better place. At least, I hope it does.

Thursday, December 11, 2008

Quite the Personality

My daughter had a substitute today. This is the second time that this particular sub has been with them. The first time was a little chaotic, but it ended up ok. Not the sub's fault. It was the school. The kids really like her, and that is what counts, I guess.

Well, my husband goes to pick her up today. With a sub, you have to go to the door, tell them who you are there for, and sign them out. So he tells Ms. Sub that he is there for The Big One.

She looks at him, and says "Lilly has quite the personality".

Seriously? What does that mean? My husband didn't ask what she meant and now I don't know. Was that supposed to be a compliment, or a criticism saying that she is difficult? Her regular teacher doesn't have discipline problems out of her, and she is a pretty good kid in general.

Now, don't get me wrong, I know my daughter can be a ham. She can also be bossy, but is hilarious, caring, incredibly intelligent, strong willed, and loyal. She likes to show random people her "dance moves". She will make up a song about anything, any where. Really I think she is about everything I would want in my own child, and maybe a little more.

So, yes, I suppose she does have quite the personality. No matter what that womyn thinks, I'm going to call it a good thing, and roll with it.

Sunday, December 7, 2008

How Much Up Can One Kid Chuck?

Sometimes, you have to wonder how so much of anything fits in those little bodies. Whether it be food going in, or coming out in any form, sometimes it amazes me.

Tonight, my oldest daughter got sick. I mean sick. The poor thing was asleep on the couch, by 7:30 no less which is a serious indicator in my child, she suddenly rolled over and starting ralphing her guts up.

Now, I will spare you most of the details, and trust me it was bad. However, I have to tell you that I am amazed by the volume that came out. I just don't see where that all came from. The space that kids are able to cover when they vomit is just mind blowing sometimes. Where does it all come from? Well, I know where it comes from, but I still can't understand how so much volume comes from such a little person!!

She isn't big. In fact, bearing no body shape resemblance to her mother at all, she is actually pretty skinny. So, how does someone so skinny nearly destroy one couch pillow, my entire living room floor, the bathroom floor mats, and cause me to need to clean the toilet?? I just don't get that.

I happened to snap a shot of her not long before the incident. There she is, showing off the offending tummy. She had told us it hurt before she went to sleep.



Bless her heart, she went straight back to sleep, and I hope she feels better when she wakes up. I think she has to. There can't be anything left in there to make her feel bad. = ( Feel better, Pook.

Saturday, December 6, 2008

Next Bathroom, Please

The sign reads:
This restroom is currently closed to maintain the cleanliness level until our guests arrive. Please use any of the other bathrooms in the house until after our guests are gone. Anyone caught using this bathroom until the allotted time will be directed to speak with Momma.

Ok. I don't really have that sign, but I want one.

Why is it that right after you clean the bathroom guests use, someone slips by you, uses the bathroom, and instantly makes it unrepresentable?? I swear to you all that I bleached my bathroom down, late, late last night after everyone went to bed. In fact, it was around midnight when I was done. At lunch time today, I went into the bathroom to change the trash, the last thing I needed to do, and low and behold, I find a big chunk of poop in my rug. You read that right. Poop. There is poop on the wall. There is poop everywhere. I can't believe it. I seriously can't believe it. I just cleaned that thing!!

So, from here on out, let it be known that any person who lives in my house, may no longer use the guest restroom on any day that guests are expected until the time after they leave. The proclamation shall stand forever more, or until we move into a house that has no guest rest room, which ever comes first.

Friday, December 5, 2008

Ever have a touched by an angel moment?

You know those moment where something happens, and by some struck of luck, or whatever, you are spared some terrible woe in the nick of time?

Something like this:

Thanksgiving evening, I was helping to male supper at my brother's house. I was going to make potato casserole. I ask him to get me a large baking dish out before I started. He gets out one of his,probably my moms really, Pyrex dishes, and sits it on the stove since we are out of counter space. No one else is in the kitchen but me, nor have they been for a while.

I start working on the casserole. I get to the point that I need pepper. I look on the counters and in the cabinets, and can't find it. I just turned around to yell into the family room for him to tell me where the pepper is. Just as I turn around, BOOM! The Pyrex dish explodes into my back. I don't mean it cracked or broke into pieces, I mean it exploded into a million tiny shards and was completely unrecognizable. It was everywhere. We had to move the stove, and throw tons of things away.

This isn't my video, but it does look like my brother's kitchen after the explosion and will give you an idea of how scary it was.



I felt a ton of it hit me in the back. Thankfully, I was wearing 2 shirts and jeans. It only hit my back and some of the backs of my legs. I was so incredibly lucky. Had I not turned at just the right moment, it would have shattered in my face.

We later realized that my little sister, who hadn't been cooking for at least 20 minutes, had left the stove eye on, and neither of us saw it. We were all petty lucky not one of the kids was burned, either.

I have had a few of those moments in my life, where I know that someone was looking out for me. It makes me think that there really is a purpose for my life, and I need to be here for something special.

Those moments are gifts in so many ways. They make you appreciate your life, family, and the fact that you are who you are with a chance to be in this world and hopefully do some good.

So, to whomever is watching over me, Thank you. I appreciate you being there when the dish broke, I took the wrong subway train, I flipped the car, and every other moment I am not mentioning here. I promise to do my best to find and fullfill what ever it is that I still need to do here. I hope you are always there looking after me, and my family too. Thank you again.

Shaving Moratorium Part 2

In case anyone was concerned, more for my husband than me, of course, I just wanted to let you know that the shaving moratorium ended as promised, once we returned. I no longer need that extra warmth, and in fact remember that I really prefer to have nice smooth legs year round.

Ahhh..the benefits of living in gloriously expensive So Cal.

Saturday, November 29, 2008

No Personal Space For You!

There is something every person thinking about having children needs to know. Well, there are lots of things that people thinking about having children need to know, but I don't have time to talk about them all right now. Right now, I want to let you know that once you have children, your body is no longer your own, and it belongs to your child to use and abuse as they see fit.

Of course, women find that out right away. Well before the birth of the child, they start changing your body drastically. You might think that their hold on your body would change after they are born, but this isn't so.

Breast feeding extends the child's possession of your body, certainly. However, even that isn't the last strong hold a child has.

You see, kids think you belong to them. You are their play place, their pillow, and often their entire bed. Anything they need, you become.

Tonight, for example, I was putting my daughter to sleep, or at least trying. She was laying between my husband and I (I'm not here for a discussion on co-sleeping, either. I just wanted her to go to sleep.). My daughter flops and flips, rolls and returns for I don't know how long.

She sort of reminds me of a dog. I know that sounds mean, but stay with me. You know how a dog has to circle it's bed over and over again until it finds just the right place to lay? Well, my little one does that too. She has to move all over and around the bed again and again until she finds "her spot" as my husband calls it.

Now, in this process, she flops all over us. She lays her head on our stomachs, our legs, and of course, my chest. My big soft, squishy boobs apparently make fantastic pillows. So, she lays there for a while. It doesn't matter that they are part of me, or that I would like her to lay on real pillows, she thinks it is comfy. That is where she wants to lay. She doesn't understand personal space.

This is only one example. It happens all the time, in may ways.

Often, my girls want to snuggle up as close as possible. They even want to get up under my clothes with me, and think it is hilarious. Now, while I do draw the line at sharing clothes, I have to so that in all honestly, I don't mind the lack of personal space most of the time.

I think it is neat that my little one doesn't just want me to hold her, but that she likes to sort of smoosh her cheek against mine while we walk around, and be as close as possible. I love that they love us so much, they want to be close to us, and it is rarely really a bad thing.

Though, it would have been nice, had someone told me before hand that I would never have personal space, not when dressing, or showering, even, again, and that my body would for quite some time, belong to this little bitty person who would be attached to me in some very funny places.

So, for those of you getting ready to have kids, please don't worry, just know that your boobs will become cuddly pillows, or that your penis might be stepped on the way to climb up your body to hang on your neck. Know that your kids will absolutely want to sleep on top of you, and sometimes you have to let them. Most importantly, know that they will love you, and all this lack of personal space, modesty, and what not just brings your closer together. I swear they are worth it. = )

Monday, November 24, 2008

Shaving Moratorium

Last night, I decided that to place a temporary moratorium on shaving.

First, let me stress that this is temporary.

Second, I should add that this is not a full ban on all shaving, but only on shaving my legs.

You see, I am currently in Tennessee visiting family. It is cold here. It has gotten down into the teens. I actually mean that we have temperatures reaching into the teens, as in it was 13 degrees the other night!! That is far, far too cold for me. That is far, far too cold for most people who live in Southern California.

So, in an effort to keep myself from freezing to death, I have decided that I must immediately cease shaving my legs, and allow whatever hair that can grow in the short amount of time we will be here to try and help keep me warm.

Now I realize that this is both a little wimpy and gross, but it is all about survival here, people. I will do what I have must in order to survive until we return to the nice warm climate of California.

And, while I know that I could also use my reasoning to stop shaving my underarms, that is just plain old gross, and I won't stoop to that.

I plan on promptly ending the moratorium the moment we get back to California. Until then, I will be in pants, praying to survive this freezing weather that would bring any one acclimated to the So Cal weather to their cleanly shaven knees.

Saturday, November 15, 2008

I Love My Husband

I may not say it enough to other people, or sometimes even to him, but make no mistake, I love my husband, and appreciate what a wonderful man he is. I am lucky to have such a caring and committed partner in my life.

I can't tell you the number of times he has come to my rescue, and been willing to go way beyond any call of duty to help me out.

Today, he volunteered to drive for my daughter's Girl Scout Troop. I was short driver's for tomorrow's trip. I got really stressed out today trying to beg and plead with parents to take their own kids on a field trip. We won't get into how sad it is that I can't get any parents to participate, but let me say that it absolutely upsets me. So, my husband stepped up and said that if it would make things better for me, he would drive our other car, and take a load of girls by himself. I can't imagine how horrifying the thought of driving a group of young girls by himself would be to a man like my husband, but he would do it for me if I needed him.

I tell you he is incredible. In so many ways. I won't go into it all tonight, but rest assured, I appreciate him.

I was able to finagle a way to get him out of driving girls. I still need him to help out, but this time he only has to go pickup the goods that we sold as a fundraiser and hold onto them until we get back from our other field trip. All the same, we wouldn't be able to get it all done tomorrow if it weren't for my hero.

Thank you. From the bottom of my heart. I love you, always.

Friday, November 14, 2008

Inglés, Por Favor.

I got a great phone call that I need to share.

Someone from my daughter's school called me yesterday.

Once he had established who he was, of course I can't remember his name now, and that he was from the school, he said that he needed to ask me a few questions.

"Does Lilly speak Spanish in your home."

"No." I wasn't sure what kind of test this was and if I should tell him that she still watched Dora, and has occasionally called her grandmother her abuela. So, I just opted for the no on that one.

"Was Spanish her first language?"

"No." I knew that one for sure.

"Well, we have in our records that she speaks primarily Spanish at home and so I have printed her report card for the parent teacher conference next week in Spanish."

"......." There was silence. I had no idea what I was supposed to say to that. I hadn't seen that one coming at all.

Finally, he started to speak again.
"I'll just reprint it in English."

"Yeah. That would be a good idea."

And we got off the phone.

Now, I don't know about you, but I found this both hilarious and very disturbing.

First, In conversation that I left out, he had actually indicated that we marked that she spoke Spanish when we enrolled her. I'm not about to say we absolutely didn't, because we can make mistakes, but I think I would be pretty clear on the fact that my daughter isn't an ESL learner.

Second, I'm not really sure what the long silence was for. Was he actually waiting for me to tell him that it would be fine to just leave it in Spanish? Were we supposed to say we could just muddle though? Was the school going to leave the report card and provide the teacher and I a translator just to go over the report card? Or, was I suddenly supposed to fess up and admit that I really did speak Spanish. No matter, it didn't happen.

This school has issues, and while most of them I find upsetting, at least finally they gave me one that made me laugh.

My husband says that from now on, every time the school calls, I should answer the phone in Spanish, which I could do. I might just try it one day. If I do, I will let you know.

Wednesday, November 12, 2008

I Helped with Homework.

Actually, I help with homework almost every day that there is homework. It is part of my job. Yesterday, however, I didn't so much as actively help with homework, as become part of the homework.

My daughter is just starting to learn math. Her class started to work with the concepts of more and less this week. We have all kinds of worksheets featuring more and less. Some add one more. Some have one less. This is all building the foundation of math, addition and subtraction.

Lilly and I were hanging out, playing on the computer last night. She started to look at my earrings again. Suddenly, she noted something that has always been there, but only now could she grasp it.

"Mom, you have one more hole in this ear, than you do in that one."

She said this with some sort of surprise and with conviction that I must not have known I was unevenly holed.

"I know."

"Why?"

"I wanted it that way."

"But you have one more in this ear than you do in that ear."

"I know."

"You need to get your ears pierced again."

"Well, if I get my ears pierced again, I would have 4 in this ear, and 3 in that one, and I still wouldn't have the same number."

Her face twisted into a grimace. She hadn't been expecting that.

"You should only get this ear pierced."

"Why? Do my ears need to have the same number of holes?"

"Yes!"

"Why?

"You just have to."

"No, I don't. See, I like it this way, Lilly, and I can have my own ears pierced any way I like. I don't have to make them even if I don't want to."

"Oh. Ok."

I don't think she was completely convinced, but she accepted it.

Math an Individuality. I would say it is rare that you get to teach the two together, but this time it worked nicely.

Now I just have to hope that the line about piercing my own ears any way I want to doesn't come back to bite me on the but later on.

My House Smells like Garlic.

My house smells like garlic.

I am normally a freak about house smells. I have scented things everywhere. Before I have people come over, I turn on my special hand made tart warmer to make the whole house smell like fresh apple pie, orange blossom, or whatever my current scent is. I have reed diffusers in my bathrooms. I actually do place dryer sheets under my couch cushions to make the house smell cleaner.

It isn't that my house doesn't smell good, its just a thing. Ya know. I want you to walk in and feel welcome by the scent.

Right now, you wouldn't so much walk in and be welcome by the scent as much as knocked over by the stench.

My oldest daughter has developed a fear of Dracula since Halloween. Its a big time fear that is giving her nightmares and really hindering her. She doesn't even want to go up to her bedroom without me out of fear.

Now, she isn't usually like this. We have talked to her, and tried to comfort her. We tried about every rational, normal thing we could think of.

I had a few friends suggest monster spray. You know, special scented water in a bottle that she could keep by her bed. I thought she would be a little old to buy into that whole thing.

Then, tonight when I was cooking, it hit me. I was about out of garlic powder. I used most of it in her special favorite soup that I made for the girls tonight. Setting down the empty bottle was an "Ah HA!" moment. You know, one of those where you feel like you should have a light bulb in a bubble over your head. General monster spray might not work, but everyone knows garlic keeps vampires away.

I called my daughter over to the kitchen counter, and showed her the garlic. We talked about what it does to vampires.

"Vampires are allergic to garlic, right?"
Since she has an allergy, she put it in terms that she could understand.

"Sure. It is something like an allergy, and they can't be anywhere near it." I confirmed.

So, we filled the nearly empty bottle of garlic powder with water. I told her to we would take it up to her room, and sprinkle some around. Then, we would sit the bottle on her bed. Nothing could come near it, I assured her again.

From that moment on, the bottle was like a life line. She started carrying it up and down the stairs. Now, normally, I wouldn't encourage these things, but when my 5 year old has refused to sleep alone for a over a week, at some point, we have to start working on this from one angle or another.

After bath time, we went to the girls' room. I took the lid off, and tried to pretend to sprinkle water around the room. Let me also say that while the bottle was nearly empty, it wasn't empty enough. That bottle reeked of garlic. That water was saturated with it. Ugg. Lilly was watching me closely. In the closet, I could pretend. When I moved into her bedroom, though, she started watching too closely. If she didn't see the water coming out, it wasn't enough. Needless to say, I had to really sprinkle her whole room with garlic water.

Just to put the whole thing over the top, I reminded her that I had fed her the rest of the garlic. So, it was all inside her too.

"Oh! So no vampire can even come near me now!" She said triumphantly. I would suppose no one had ever been so glad for garlic body oder, but hey, if that was what it took, so be it.

Well, all that garlic took its toll on my wonderfully smell;y house. My house is still smelly, just not the same way. You can smell the garlic the moment you hit the second floor. It is a little rough up there.

I warned my husband before he even came home not to question the garlic bottle. Let it stay with her until she has a little time to get over this. We can shampoo her carpets in a few weeks.
Until then, I just have to remind everyone that that I know to simply ignore any garlic smell from either my home,or my child. Just consider it a reminder that we are still vampire free.

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

Bad Boys, Bad Boys...

Have I mentioned that I live in the hood part of my neighborhood?

Actually, I live in military housing, and not to the credit of the military, the police are here all the time. I swear there isn't a day that goes by without at least some form of vehicle with lights and a siren are rolling through my subdivision.

My husband just did a loud "Oh! Hey!"

"What?"

"Cops!"

I look toward the front of the house, and you can see red and blue lights coming in from outside though the small windows above our door. They are really close. In fact, after opening the door (him, not me. I'm less brazen and I look through the blinds) we see that they are right in front of the house.

Surprisingly enough, they aren't here on a domestic call, or a noise complaint, which is generally the case. They actually pulled someone over right in front of my house!!

Not sure who the driver is. I couldn't look long enough to tell without the police being able to see me. I did notice the police all up in the driver's window. My guess, on this national holiday night, is that someone just got pulled over for DUI. I wouldn't be surprised. Which makes me sad.

As long as it isn't one of the neighbors that I have come to really like here. Though, I like them because they wouldn't do that kind of crap.

You know, if it is a DUI thing, that would really piss me off. Especially right in front of my house! There are way too many kids around here for anyone to be pulling crap like that. We may not have an official neighborhood watch, but believe me, we have a neighborhood watch. (Of which, you might have guessed by the blinds thing that I would be considered a member.) I'll have to speak to the other members, aka moms on my street, at school drop of tomorrow am and see if anyone knows the deal.

Should there be someone who was dumb enough to drive drunk down our street who lives on this street, there will be words. We don't play like that in this part of the hood.

Monday, November 10, 2008

Poor Bleeding Heart Baby

My daughter got her emotional side from me. I know she did. She had to come to me a few minutes ago for some comforting. Daddy just wouldn't do. Apparently Air Bud, the Disney movie, was just too sad for her. She couldn't even hang out through the end to see if things worked out ok. I had to reassure her, and basically force her to watch it through to make sure she knew it came out well.

I feel for her. It is tough being an emotional person. I cry at everything. Little things, big things, meaningless things, and certainly the meaningful things.

Its ok, baby, Mom will always be here with a shirt that you can wipe your tears on, and a some arms to wrap around you. Just use a tissue for the snot, if you will, please.

Love you Pook.

Just Stirring the Chili!

When I get up, I am just stirring the chili. This by no means indicates that I am done on the computer or that I won't be getting directly back on. This does not mean that you should run from the living room, jump into the big comfy seat where I left it, and slid/roll it over to the computer in some sort of maneuver that for whatever reason makes me think of Tom Cruise in Risky Business. It may just be because you are in your underwear. I'm not sure.

None the less, please don't do this repeatedly. I am trying to multitask. No. M-U-L-T-I-T-A-S-K. I know this is a foreign concept for many out there. It means that i am doing more than one thing at a time. Currently, I am trying to make your dinner and work from our only home computer at the same time.

As an aside, this is my second computer post in 2 days. There seems to be a reoccurring problem here that needs to be addressed. Hmmm.....

Anyway, I will give you time to play on the computer. I know you tell me that your aren't playing, but honestly, checking Slickdeals really isn't honest work. Not for you anyway. If Slickdeals sold military issue helicopter parts, that might be a different story.

So, please, I don't want to nag and ask repeatedly if I can get back to my work. I will tell you when it is time to eat, and I am going to take a break for a while so that you can see if your 1,000 piece Sears Tool kit, or whatever it may be that you are looking for, is on sale at the moment. I promise. Until then, please note that I am just stirring the chili. That siring will will be done before you finish your some what cute slide move and get in position leaning back in the chair.

Sunday, November 9, 2008

Computers are meant to torment me.

I moderate a message board. It is a job. An unpaid job. Sometimes I love it. Sometimes I loathe it. The election has made me often have feelings of the later.

Well, the election is over, but still the discussions go on.

We have an Election thread going on. I have stepped in twice to remind our members that the debate is not to get personal, yada yada.

Well, low and behold, someone posted that post. You know. The one that had me looking at my screen yelling "No. No. No!! Do you all hate me? Do you want to give me a heart attack at a tender young age?"

Okay. Maybe the tender young age part was a bit of an over or under statement, but non the less, I have to wonder why people post these things, and if they never consider what the moderators must go through by ways of gnashing teeth and blood pressure issues when they do so.

Well, I knew I had to jump into action immediately. I went to delete the post, and in another window, email the poster about why I had to remove it. As I clicked delete, my computer froze momentarily. I panicked. It took about 20 seconds, and the computer came back. Twenty seconds is more than enough to cause a riot, and i know that. I hit delete. It deleted.

So, I replied to the thread, in order to let everyone know that we will no longer be discussing this particular issue. The computer froze. My panic doubled. It took another 20 seconds to get the computer back.

I started my email to the member who had posted the item meant to cause me harm. The computer decided at that time that each key stroke would take a few second to appear. Each time I hit enter to move to another line, it was another 20 seconds.

I couldn't even check the board to see if the rioting had begun. It would have caused the computer to checkout completely. I had to be nice to it. I had to beg and plead with it. The computer knew it had me over a barrel.

It took nearly 9 minutes to get the entire thing sorted out, and have everyone involved in the process email, explained to, and all the other loose ends, hopefully tied up. Those nine minutes probably took 5 years off my life. Of course, had it gone to 10 minutes, I would have would up in a full panic attack on my way to the E.R. with not only 5 years of my life but a bill for at least $1,000 for the less than 2 mile ride to the hospital.

I think computers are smarter than we give them credit for. Some artificial intelligence is certainly to be found with in mine. How else could it have know to have problems at just the moment I was the most vulnerable?

So, I could certainly forgo all computers, and move back to the much safer pen and paper age. I could also go shopping for a new family computer and hope for one that hasn't developed such an intelligence yet.

However, I think I will try to work my way into a new laptop for myself as a Christmas gift this year, give my husband and kids the current possessed computer, and form a new, loving relationship with the new computer. I will promise to dust it often, and never eat or drink while I am using it, if only it will promise never to fail me at such a scary time again. Ok. I will also promise to give it anything it wants, because I'm sure that it, too, will soon realize that it really has me over a barrel, and can do anything it wants. The computer will just be waiting for the moment that someone else posts something that is bound to cause some sort of all out online war, and the moment it does, even my new love will freeze on me, as a reminder that it always has the power, and it would like a little appreciation for all of its work, and maybe some new memory while I am at it.

Friday, November 7, 2008

First Look

My husband just saw my blog for the first time.

His only comment was "Well, the title fits."

Love you too, hon.

I lost my authority this morning.

Well, I lost my voice. When you have 2 small children, verbal commands are essential, and losing your voice, seems to take away all of your authority as well.

My oldest is already quite advance in her "I can't hear you" non-listening skills. So, adding into that mix a weak and nearly non existent voice only furthers her amazing abilities.

My youngest is taking after her sibling quite well, and is doing an excellent job realizing that if my voice sounds different, she can really pretend that I just haven't said anything.

The word no doesn't mean much when you sound like some sort of animated character as you say it, I suppose.

Also, my youngest has actually taken it a step further today. She perceives my voice as a sign of weakness. She is correct, but her intelligence is shocking. Not only does she realize that I am weaker, and not as willing to fight, but I think she even realizes that if I am actually showing a sign of weakness, I must be even weaker because she is testing my limits.

I had thought that because she is feeling a little under the weather, too, that she would want to lay around with me, and veg all day. Not that I would want her to feel worse, and mope around, but I had thought there would be snuggling today, not struggling today.

Ahh...it is just all kinds of crappy.

At the very least, I was able to make my husband happy and give him what he really wanted for Christmas this year already: Me to love my voice. That would be one less person to shop for, making me happy.

Monday, November 3, 2008

I admit it. I am the meany.

It is true. I am a mean person. Yet again, I blame this election cycle. It has really taken a toll on my ability to be nice.

The other day, I called someone ignorant. And I meant it. My thought process is this:
If you don't have a well informed opinion, don't interject into a conversation that requires one with nothing more than a sophomoric attempt to slander the other side. Your opinion won't be welcome. Furthermore, if you choose to call someone who does have a well thought out opinion foolish, you should be prepared to be called out, and perhaps, or even certainly, called ignorant.

Now, that doesn't mean that you are stupid. Nor does it mean that you are in general ignorant, but it does mean that when it comes to the political realm, you have not taken the time to truly educate yourself on what has and is happening in the world around you.

What's even worse is that I have to keep telling people I called someone ignorant. It's like I have to offend people before the conversation even starts. Why you all need to know, I don't know. What I do know is that this has really affected my ability to speak to people.

So, please, before I end up getting kicked off some of my favorite message boards, I urge everyone out there to take the time to educate yourself. Don't just do it for me and my Internet addiction, though. Do it for yourself, so that you can really participate in being a part of this great process.

Our Little Paddict

My husband and I did a bad thing today, but we couldn't help ourselves.

We fed an addiction.

A pa addiction to be more precise.

Pa is what my youngest, and everyone else in the house, calls her pacifier. She is an addict. She is in the throes of a real, and hard core addiction. It is scary.

Today, she lost the last pa we had. She lost it on the way home from picking up our oldest daughter from school. We walk everyday. So, somewhere out there, between our home and the school, lies a little green pa with tons of teeth marks, and probably tons more germs.

We should have let hat be that, and ended it there and now cold turkey. We aren't strong enough, though.

She is 19 months old, and it is high time that she gave that thing up. The problem is, though, that we aren't committed to working through the addiction at this point. There would be several withdrawal symptoms. Those would lead to a sever withdrawal of the amount of sleep that my husband and I get, and we just aren't completely committed to that.

We are also stuck in a very difficult position. My husband is preparing to deploy for an extended period of time. We can either force her to give up the pa now, when she really isn't ready, and deal with the long hard struggle in the short amount of time that he has left, or we can allow her to have it, and wait it out until her gets back. The second option would leave her with the pa until she was 2 and 1/2 at least. That isn't really something we believe in, but as of right now, it is the choice we are making. The lesser of the two situations, and the one we feel we can deal with better.

I know, I know. We should just do it, but we just can't. On top of all the stress it would bring right now, she is probably our last baby. It hurts my heart to force her to grow up faster than she is ready to do.

So, for now, we feed the addiction. My husband ran frantically to the store to get a new pack of pas for us. As soon as she saw them, she squealed with delight. "Blue Pa!" She said. So, now, she walks around with a fresh new and much less germy blue pa hanging from her mouth. I know it isn't great, but at least it is quiet around here.

Sunday, November 2, 2008

When is scary too much?

My daughter and I were walking with a group of friends on Halloween around the hood. We somehow ended up on the other side of our subdivision (I think that somehow was the kids following the blinking lights from one shiny house to another with out slowing enough for us to catch or stop them).

As we were walking across one street, I heard this crazy noise. It sounded like metal being drug behind a car. Like, maybe a piece of a car was dragging. It got louder and louder.

Then, I saw him.

There was some guy dressed up as what had to be the best/scariest Michael Myers ever outside of a movie house. The man looked scary. To me. A grown woman who likes vampires and used to be goth. He was scary. Anyway, he was dragging a shovel behind him. He walked down the road, not the sidewalk, dragging it, looking straight ahead, like he didn't even notice the people going by. Then, when he got close enough to a group, he would suddenly jump and scream at them. I am telling you that man was freaky.

When he did that to our group, one of the moms jumped about 3 feet backwards and nearly peed on herself. Three of the girls started crying. One got over it. One had to stay with her dad after that. One couldn't stop crying. Scary. He jumped at another group and a little girl literally threw her bucket of candy at him and ran. (As an aside, I was proud of her. If this had been a horror movie, she would have made it because she actually did the right thing!) She didn't get far before an adult made her stop. The man in the mask did take it off, and go over and help her pick it all up. He waited until he got a little further away before from that girl before he put the shovel back down, and started all over again.

As my daughter and I walked toward our house, I heard people start screaming behind us, before I heard the shovel. She heard it and took off. She wanted to get home before he could get near us again. Now, She knew he was fake. She knew it was a man. I think she enjoyed the drama more than she was really scared when she ran home.

In hindsight, some of what was transpiring around him was funny. The mom that nearly peed on herself. That was funny. The little girl who threw her candy, could have been funny, if she hadn't been so scared. Though, she probably would laugh if anyone had caught that on camera and they had won 10,000, but I digress.

The thing is, he was genuinely scaring people. Is that wrong, though? Isn't that what Halloween is about? At what point in time do you cross the line from being an enthusiast to an asshole?

I'm not sure if this guy crossed the line. I think he walked it. If he hadn't helped the little girl pick up her candy, he would have been way over it. Provided there are no nightmares, for me or my daughter, that arise from his escapade, I will forgive him.

I think this may be one of those things that live with her, in a good, memorable way. I hope she never forgets what an exciting night she spent with friends, getting candy, running, screaming like crazy and running from a madman in a mask, with a shovel. I hope that in years to come, she tells her own kids the story, and that they won't get nightmares from it either.

Dr. Seuss' Political Side



Did anyone else know that Dr Seuss wrote very political children's books?

I just finished reading The Butter Battle Book to my oldest. Silly me, I just assumed that if it was Dr Seuss, I didn't need to pre-read it. We took it home before I ever opened the cover. Low and behold, we get into it, and boom; big political themes that are far too complicated for a children's book.

This one seems to be all about the cold war, with the book ending in both sides hold a nuclear bomb over their wall, wondering who would drop it first. No happy ending. The book was written in 1984, and the cold war hadn't ended yet. Wow. Talk about a discussion to have right before bed time.

"That wasn't very nice, was it, Lilly?"

"No, that was mean. They want to blow each other up."

At least we can discuss it, but still, I need to learn my lesson for sure this time, and always check everything we bring home.

Wednesday, October 29, 2008

I have to ban myself.

I have to officially ban myself from any political discussions for at least the next 6 days. That number may be extended depending on the results of the election. I just can't take it anymore. Any thing that starts as a discussion, seems to be ending as a "discussion" around me.

I nearly got into it with my daughter's Girl Scout Troupe leader today. That wouldn't be smart. That womyn could whoop my butt in a heart beat.

This election has taken a huge toll on me, and has completely worn the filter that goes from my brain to my mouth out. I called in to order a replacement, but apparently, this has been such a bad election that they are on back order now. I just can't hold back, and I don't want to offend anyone. Well, I do want to offend lots and lots of people. That seems to be the problem.

So, please, I implore you, don't look at me and try to say Obama, McCain, Palin, Biden. Don't even say Ron Paul or rEVOLution. Don't mouth the words. Don't throw some sort of sneaky Obama or McCain gang signs. No Palin ninja arts moves. Nothing. Really.

And if you do make some sort of Obama Hope sign around me, just remember that I warned you, and you deserve what ever you unleash.

Friday, October 24, 2008

School is not Babysitting

School is not the place where you send your child just to get away from them. It isn't a free baby sitting service. After school activities are not more free sitting services.

Do not drop Jr off and then run to your me time. Stay there. Wait at school with them every now and then until the bell rings. You might just learn something.

Take some time. Get involved. Be a part of making your child's educational experience a great one both at home and at school. Care about your child and their future. Care about the future of every child at that school. Be a parent.

I wish more parents would take me up on this.

Thanks to all of those parents that do care and are involved. You should be proud of yourselves.


That is all. You may now go on your way.

Monday, October 20, 2008

The Tragic Tale of a Cupcake


That's right. This is tragic. Anytime a good looking sweet goes to waste, or meets a terrible demise, it must be called a tragedy.

Yesterday, we went to the store, and then stop at a gas station. Next to us an older lady pulls up. She goes to the kiosk to show her id, and then starts pumping gas. While pumping gas, apparently, she looses her glasses. I know this because instead of walking back over to the kiosk, she starts yelling to the attendant so that she, and everyone else near by, can hear that she has lost her glasses, and can check to see if anyone at all sees them. The person she was with found them in the car. So, all was fine.

Until, that is, we all started to leave. She pulled out just before us. As soon as we got behind her, I saw it. A cupcake. Sitting on the roof of her car. Just hanging out. All by it's lonesome. We had to stop at a light and I thought about getting out to let her know there was a cupcake on top of her car, but unfortunately, the light changed too quickly.

I was rather impressed by the cupcake. I held on through the intersection, and even when she pulled on the the on ramp to the freeway. Alas, once she actually started to accelerate, I knew what was going to happen. Sure enough, the sweet delight fell from its perch, and crashed onto the street. It was obliterated. There was cupcake carnage everywhere. We may even have some of its remnants in our tire tread.

Ahh, the poor lady will probably never know what befell her cupcake. Unlike the glasses that she lost immediately upon putting down, there won't be anyone there to find the cupcake for her. I wonder how long she will search for it. Bless her heart.

Let this tale be a warning to you. Don't ever be the cupcake lady. Every time you leave a party, be sure that you have everything you are supposed to, your glasses, cupcakes, children, and what have you all inside the car where they are safe and secure.


The cupcake is on the left side of the Volvo.


I tried to snap a picture of the carnage as well, but couldn't get it fast enough. I'm sure you can picture it, though.

Thursday, September 11, 2008

Show some respect!

What do you wear to take your child to school? Clothes right? Real clothes. Not clothes meant to be slept in exclusively, right? Unfortunately, not everyone can honestly agree here.

Wearing pajamas to take your child to school has now become one of my all time pet peeves. If it were once, and you were desperate to get your child to school on time, I might be able to deal. However, when it is an everyday occurrence, one of two things is going on.

1) You have poor time management skills, and are unable to get your self ready to be out the door at an appropriate time.
2)You think your cute wearing your jammies before the world.

Now, If it happens to be one, then you need to work on it. I have. I have always been late to everything, but this is important. So, I plan it out. This isn't to say that we won't ever be late. Quite the contrary. However, with effort, you can be on time. You just have to be willing to make that effort.

If it is two, then we have a problem. It isn't cute. It is disrespectful. You are not at the corner market or even Wal-Mart. This is a school. A place of learning. An institution that is trying to instill in your child all kinds of positive values, including respect, in order for them to grow up to be who we as parents want them to be. The thing is, you can't expect them to learn respect, if you don't show it yourself. Who are you disrespecting? For starters, how about the teachers. To not even be willing to get dressed and put on real clothes before you walk out the door shows that you have no respect for what they do. How about the entire school population? Well, again, children learn by example, and every child there will see disrespect when it is put before them, in one way or another, and take that into their sponge like minds. Finally, and most importantly, how about your own child? you child should take pride in their school work. They should be excited to go, and to come home and tell you all about it. They shouldn't have any parent diminish what they do because the parent can't even be presentable to take them there.

Why do I care? Because I don't want my child to ever think it is ok to disrespect her school in that manner.

So, like I said. Show some respect. Even if you don't have it for yourself, have it for those around you. Tomorrow, get up, put real clothes and shoes on, and then walk your child to school like a normal, respectable person.

If nothing else, at least start sleeping in street clothes so that when you roll out of bed, hit the ground and start walking, we will at least be able to pretend you have some respect going on.

Thanks.

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

$500 a mile.

That is what the little ambulance ride to the hospital cost us. We just got a bill in the mail from the day my daughter busted her head open. To be specific, the bill is $948.09 and this was for a 2 mile ride. Now, they didn't need anything for my daughter. I had a towel on her head and an ice pack when they got here. So, there weren't any supplies used. Well, the firemen did use a couple of pairs of gloves, but that isn't the ambulance service. With no other supplies or fees, we are talking about a rate of almost $500 a mile! That is insane! I can't believe that is even legal!!

Furthermore, the bill says it is do in full upon receipt. Yeah. That isn't going to happen. It also says that it can try to bill our insurance, but we still have to pay.

I just do not understand this. Why is this $1000 again? Do they use jet fuel in those things??? Is it running on alcohol, and I don't mean pure grain, I mean like Cristal or something?

You think they can put the girl to work to pay this off? She was the one who needed to go, maybe she can wash their dishes until she turns 18 to pay for it.

Seriously. This is nuts. I guess we will be making some phone calls tomorrow to try to figure this out. Great. More dept! Yeah!

Friday, August 29, 2008

Listen to Your Mother



If only my daughter had, today. I tell her over and over again, not to run in the house, but she just doesn't listen.

Lilly was running through the house today, tripped on something and fell, head first, into the edge of a wall. She busted her head open pretty badly. It looked like the corner of a wall was taken right out of her head.

It was really terrifying as a parent, to see something like that happen right in front of you. You expect kids to get hurt, but this so out of the blue, in our own home, a place you feel safe, that it was even more mortifying.

We had to call 911, something I had never worried about before. In fact, when we moved here, we selected Vonnage as our phone company, not even considering that 911 was different, and it does take just a little longer. Something we will always consider from here on out.

The first responders and an ambulance came. We had kept a towel and ice on the wound the entire time. So, it wasn't bleeding profusely anymore by the time they got here. The crazy thing is that I knew the fire fighter who seemed to take the lead! His wife has been in my moms group for a while. I had no idea that he worked right by our house. Made that a little more comforting.

A friend of ours and her son were at the house with us when this all happened. Thankfully, my friend volunteered to stay with Ava while we went to the hospital. They took us to the ER by ambulance. Lilly was pretty cool the during the ride. She was even trying to impress the EMTs by doing math for them on the way. I guess math is impressive to a five year old.

She had to get 6 staples in her head. They couldn't numb her before hand, because she wouldn't' let them. It was pretty horrible, but she was a tough little trooper all in all.

As petty as it may sound, I am really glad they didn't have to shave her head with school starting next week. Bless her little heart.

Now, I keep telling her, this is why you should listen to me when I tell you not to bounce on the couch, run in the house, etc. Let this be a lesson to all kids everywhere. We as parents try to look out for you, not try to keep you from having fun. We don't want things like that to happen to anyone. Read them this post, and show them the picture. Tell them that they should always listen to you. Hopefully she learned a lesson from it all.

Lilly will be fine, and no one will ever see her scar unless she shows them. She will have a gnarly one to show off when she wants, for sure, though.

Sunday, August 24, 2008

What are you doing?

This election has seriously had me in turmoil. I don't like any of the candidates. I don't. It seems like they are getting father and farther away from mainstream America and representing the extreme fringe elements on both sides more and more.

How did we let this happen? How has our nation moved so far away from what it really wants?

I don't know. I wish I did. The whole process has had me a bit down in the dumps. I feel like I have somehow been left out of the process before it is even over. I feel ineffective. It seems like all I can do is bitch and moan about how all the candidates suck this time. It has really left me feeling lost.

I don't like the candidate that I know I am going to vote for, but I vehemently oppose the other guy.

So, what's a girl to do? How do you get over feeling lost in this terrible storm of an election cycle?

Well, this girl has decided to take action in the only way she can. I can't in all honesty campaign for my candidate, but I can campaign against the other guy. That's what I am going to do.

I know that sounds crazy, a group that isn't designed to support anyone, but to campaign against someone instead. However, I feel like this is something that is really needed. I finally feel like part of the process again.

What are you doing to feel like part of this process?

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

Some Days....

Some days, I am not a good mother. I lose my temper with my kids, and I yell. I am bad mother. At least, it feels that way. Today is one of those days.

Some days, you wake up well before the crack of dawn to a child who simply refuses to go back to sleep. That child refuses to take naps, and demands all of your attention, in a tired stressed out continual melt down way. Today is one of those days.

Some days, you find your self going to to toe with a 5 year old over absolutely everything under the sun. Neither one of you is willing to back down, and though you are the parental authority, you seem to forget, in the heat of the moment, that fighting is for naught and you could simply send them to their room, instead, continuing the inane process of the fight. Today is one of those days.

Some days, when you are at your wits end, you realize that Mommy needs a time out, as much as the kids do. Sometimes more. Today is one of those days.

Some days, you just have to know in your heart that all the tears, the hurt, the pain, all of that is temporary, but that the love is forever. You have to muddle through knowing that there will be better days. That this is all just a phase, and that eventually, they grow up, and you will long for the days when they were 5 years old, and brave enough to go toe to toe with you. Today is one of those days.

Some days, you just need a hug. Today is one of those days.

Saturday, August 16, 2008

Please, Please, Be Offended

It seems like just about every day I get into a discussion either about something that has offended someone, someone who wouldn't act out of fear of offending, or just the way that everybody and everything seems to be offensive these days.

Well, I personally, am not offended, but it seems like the rest of the world is constantly in the state of being offended or another. The act of being offended has gone well beyond ridiculous, and straight to asinine. More over, we aren't just offended anymore. The things people say and do are not simple offensive, but hateful. The term "Hate Speech" raises my ire more that most things right now. Everything is hate speech. If you disagree with someone, you are a hater. You know nothing, and you are nothing, because you cease to exist, one you are found to be a hater, who only uses hate speech.

Seriously, people, give it a rest. If you don't like something, don't support it, but then get over it. Were a nation of ridiculous people who are terrified to open their mouth for fear over offending someone.

Our current presidential election is a great example. If I hear one more person or candidate apologize for an attack add, or talk about how they oppose of any attacks on their opponent, etc, I think I am going to upchuck. If you can't take the heat, get out of the kitchen If you can't take the political shots, don't run for office. These men are supposed to lead our nation, and they can't even stand up for themselves. Man up, fellas. I am terrified of the next 4 years no matter who wins.

The next time some one tells me I am fat, I am going to tell them that I don't appreciate their hate speech, that they should know better then to be so offensive, and since they are now a hater, I won't be talking to them anymore. Now, I just have to hope it isn't my Dr, because I really like her, and don't want to find another one.

Ugg. All of screaming people do about hate filled, offensive speech from haters is on my last nerve. Actually, I find it all rather offensive. Harumph.

Friday, August 15, 2008

Friendly, Not Overlyfriendly, Please.

I really prefer my service industry personnel to be friendly, but not over friendly. I mean that. I have issues with people that are just needlessly over friendly.

I was out shopping with a friend today, and she convinced me that I should go into Macy's with her to shop.

Let me stop here to say that I am not a Macy's shopper. It is not in my price range. Not even in my price hemisphere on a general basis. However, my friend has been telling me for years, and I mean years, that they have great clearance sales on kid's clothes. My usual reply is, "MmmmHmmmm" and then I keep walking. However, I decided to go today. Low and behold she was right! I found some kick butt deals, and this is coming from someone who would admit to buying kids clothes at KMart, if we still had one.

So, anyway, I bought a top of crap. When it is $3.99 a piece, and your daughter needs school clothes, it is ok to buy a ton. I go to check out, and wait what seemed like forever for just 2 other people to pay.

Now, it wasn't that the people has a lot of stuff, or that I was just so impatient that it seemed like forever. This time, it was the cashier. She was overly, and I mean overly, friendly. In fact, I would say that she hoped right over the line from friendly to annoying an kind of bothersome. No one could just pay and leave because she kept wanting to have a real conversation with people. She wanted to actually tell you about her family, her friends, who she buys clothes for her self, that cousin Sue called her today and told her that she bought and outfit for JR, so now she has to pick something out for cousin Sue's kid after work, and on, and on, and on. It took forever, I tell you. And all of us in line were uncomfortable, and irritated.

Its ok to tell me that you have kids too, but don't tell me that you can't wait for school to start, because your kids have been driving you crazy. I'm sorry that your grandmomma wouldn't let you play video games, and that has affected the way you raise your own children, but in all honestly, that has no bearing on our business situation. That is what this is; a business transaction. Plain, quick, and simple. Business.

For whatever reason, I get people like this all the time. I don't know if it is because I smile, and try to be polite to everyone, but that doesn't mean that I want to hear your life's story.

So, overly friendly people, take note. If I do not know you personally, I do not want to know when your lunch break is, what you are having for lunch, what your children do that drives you crazy, how badly you want to quit your job, how many other jobs you have had, how many times a day you talk to your mother, how many days it has been since your boyfriend went to jail, what he did to get put in jail, (seriously had someone at a retail establishment lay those on me), if you actually believe in dragons (that is a real one too), or anything else as such!

What I want you to do, is be courteous. Say hello. You can make small talk, but I mean small talk. One comment about my children will suffice. When I ask how you are doing in response to your courteous efforts, give me a one sentence answer that is either positive or apathetic if you are having a bad day, but don't be negative. Lie if you must. That should suffice for all non essential conversation, except, of course, for the obligatory, "Thanks you"s, and "Have a good rest of the day"s. Really, nothing else is needed, warranted, or wanted.

I would much appreciate that.

Then, when I reply with a "You have a good day, too", I will actually mean it.

Thank you for your co-operation, from here on out.

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

Lychee - Good for dishpan hands


My husband is a little odd when it comes to food. While he won't eat a tomato to save his life, he loves some of the oddest tasting foods ever, including Lychee. He brought home a big bag of them yesterday from the grocery store, pleased as punch with himself for getting them.

He and the little one ate about half the bag as soon as they got them home. My baby is going to have an iron stomach, I swear.

So, last night, he forces me to taste this thing. Now, first of all, I am completely grossed out by just the sight. They look like big eyeballs. Really. They do. After that image hit me, and I shared it, he made it worse by pretending they were big eyeballs. Have a mentioned that he is really just a big kid before? After he pesters me to eat the eyeball for a while longer, I realize that there is no way he is going to let up, until I try.

I give in, and get the smallest taste I can manage. They taste about as good as they look, in my opinion. I do not understand why so many people love these things. It has to be an acquired taste. To me, they tasted like dish soap. Yup, go take a big whiff of the bottle of dawn sitting on your sink, and that's exactly what they tasted like to me. My husband vehemently disagrees. I finally looked them up online. Guess what. Lychee are members of the soapberry family. I don't make this stuff up. Couldn't if I tried. So, I am right, and I have proof.
Lychee - good for dishpan hands, and takes the grease right off. Or, at least they taste that way.

Good Teeth or a Car

I feel like my husband and I need to ask our oldest daughter, Lilly, if she wants to have pretty teeth, or a car when she turns 16, because after the visit we had with the dentist, that looks like what it is going to come down to.

Why is dental care so frigin expensive?? More importantly, why is dental insurance worth crap???

Already, were talking serious money, and this is just her baby teeth. Once her real ones start to come in, the kid is going to have some seriously sucky issues with over crowding. He pretty much laid out our path, and I am not kidding that I fully expect to end up paying as much on her teeth as I would have a cheap car for her.
I just do not get it. Why is it that we, as a society, just accept that dental insurance is crap, and either go into the poor house to keep a pretty smile, or don't take care of our teeth because we know we can't afford it. I know I avoid the dentist like the plague because I live in fear of that bill they will send me.

Speaking of sending a bill, Dental offices don't even tell you up front how much they will pay. The receptionist told me that she would send me a written estimate of how much it would cost. Seriously? Now I really do feel more like the car and the teeth are similar, because I feel like I am dealing with a car salesman. Can I slide that paper back to them with a smaller number on it? Think that would work?

I'm sure it wouldn't. Now I need to go out and find a second insurance plan, so that hopefully, having two insurance plans pay together toward her teeth will take us from paying for a sedan to a Yugo. Hopefully.

Friday, June 20, 2008

Great Stories from the Past

My mom and I were talking about some things that my grandfather had gotten into when he was younger, and it became one of those moments in life where you recount great stories of those who have passed on. I got pretty teary eyed. I love it when you get to learn new things about loved ones like that.
Today, I learned of quite a heroic effort he made, in World War II. The story is a little loose on details. He is gone, after all, and we can't ask questions anymore, but it goes something like this:

My Grandfather, Earnest, was part of a unit in the Army that was under General Patton. At some point, his unit came under heavy fire, and was pinned down for days. They were out of food, and they were literally starving. So, once He realized that they were to going to be able to get food anytime soon, he told some of the guys in his unit to cover him the best he could. He remembered a bicycle that they had passed on the way in to where ever it was they had been hold up. Hi jumped up, ran, telling no one what he was going to do. He made it to the bike and out of the line of fire. He rode to the nearest town he could find. After some time, he did actually return to his unit with some eggs, and a chicken to eat, the only things he could get.

Yes, he was quite the hero. There are other stories, some that we know are verified and true from the medals that he won, about the things he endured over there. SO many of them would make you cry.

Telling stories about my family, talking to my mom, it is quite clean where she got her senses of justice, right and wrong, and compassion from. It also shows me where I hope I got mine from.

One more try

You know, I keep thinking of things that I need to blog, but life gets in the way, and this is the first thing to get left out. It isn't that I don't like to write things down, I love too, but that often, there are too many things to write. That, or I just can't find the time to take away from something else. Either way, there are so many stories that I want to share, opinions that I should voice, and so on, that I thought maybe I would try again. Again, no promises that I will keep it up, but I can say that I will try harder. Even if no one is reading, I really enjoy hitting the publish button. = )

Tuesday, February 19, 2008

McDonald's New Coffee

McDonalds now has new "premium" iced coffee drinks. You can get them in vanilla, hazelnut, or regular coffee at my local Mc'Ds.

If you haven't tried them yet....don't!

I had one today and it was terrible!! I may as well have been licking a sugar cube. In fact, that might have been better. I don't know if it is the kind of syrup they are using, or just if the womyn who made mine didn't know what she was doing and used too much, but the drink was not good. Now, don't get me wrong, I did drink it. After all, I hadn't gotten my morning coffee yet, and I had just paid for it. So, I managed to get it all down, but I would have been happier if I had stuck with the plain old coffee there.

Sunday, February 17, 2008

Telling my Friends

So, I told a couple of my good friends here that I am moving. This is the beginning of what I know if going to be one of the hardest years of my life. I am not looking forward to all the stress and time away from my husband. Ahhh...whats a military wife to do?

Saturday, February 16, 2008

Danny Bonaduce's junk

Oh no!


I just saw Danny Bonaduce's junk.


No, not his trash, I mean, his JUNK. You know, his franks and beans, bits and pieces, his testicles and penis, people!! Seriously. They are on the internet!! Apparently, he let it all hang out a big adulty convention sometime recently, and some quick person got the shot of a lifetime.

I guess he was a little mad about it, but, please. If you are a celeb, and you take your clothes off, you have to expect someone out there to get a pic and it end up on the internet. Wow, though, I have to say it was not pleasing. This has to have been one of the most unpleasant pics I have ever happened upon on the internet. Much like the pic of Brit's va jay jay, I could have lived life and been quite happy never having seen it.


Why? Why, Danny, why did you do this to us? I can never watch the Partidge Family on Nick at night again.

Thursday, February 14, 2008

Coming of Age

Ok. I am going to admit something publicly that I really don't care to. I am going to turn 30 soon. I know, I know. It may seem petty to many that I am fretting over turning 30. It isn't a big deal to many people, but it is to me.

For whatever reason, my mind simply can not wrap itself around the fact that I am hitting up another decade. I don't feel what I think 30 is. I don't feel like I should be in the 30 something category. True that I am married with 2 kids, but I just don't feel ready to be 30. Now, before I get snarky comments about 30 not being old; I know it isn't. considering the potential life span of an average female in the US, it is far from old. It is though, that age where you are supposed to be somewhere. There is a place that you should be in within in your own life when you hit 30. It is sort of a settled place. I am not any where near that place. I haven't yet to finish school. I am far from buying a home. We just haven't done all of the 30 year old things that we should have done yet. I suppose it is not the numerical age that is the problem, but the fact that I am simply not where I thought I would be at this age.

So, I have decided not to celebrate this year. Not yet. Perhaps if I come to terms with the age, I will. For now, though, I have instructed my husband not to do anything for my birthday. I don't want a presents or a party. I don't want cake and ice cream....well. Ok, I want cake and ice cream, but not birthday cake and birthday ice cream. = )

Wednesday, February 13, 2008

The Story of a Husband Not in Trouble

I found some humor in all of this, and thought you all might too.

My husband had a major test yesterday at work. The night before, He brought some things home on his little USB portable drive to put on the computer and study with. He puts the drive into the computer, and has me help him open everything up.

Much later in the evening, I get back on the computer to do a "quick check". I noticed that Photoshop had opened up and was trying to load some new images it found. I start to scroll though the images, and when I get to the top of the list, what do my wandering eyes find? Porn!! Not just any porn, but what looked like about 15 mini clips from movies!!! I was shocked! And pissed!! Now, we aren't prudes, but hiding porn on a portable drive crosses my lines. Not only that, but the stuff was loading with Lilly in the room!!

So, I immediately send Lilly out, minimize the porn, and call Chad into the room. He walks in, and I ask, "What have you been doing with your thumb drive?" He stares at me with a blank look. I respond with a look that says "confess your sins now." I ask again "What have you been doing with your thumb drive?" This time, his look changes from blank to what I can tell is a brain frantically searching for anything that he might possible have done wrong. My look only intensifies. I utter the question once final time with a tone that demands he utter something, anything.
"I have my study stuff on there. You know what I use it for. You help me put it on there." Why?" He is more than a little concerned, apparently not being able to figure out what it might possible be that he has done.

"Do you know what is on your drive?" I ask him.
"Just tell me what it is." He is probably panicking about this time.

I put my hand on the mouse, and bring the porn back onto the screen while looking at him.
His reaction was priceless. Instantly, it was a "WTF?" look that quickly and only for a second changed into a.."hubba hubba, that's porn on my computer" and went away with the immediate realization that he should not have been happy about this.

"I didn't do it." He insisted that he had no idea it was on there.

I just stared at him. It was on his thumb drive. His.

Then, my husband responds with what has to be the best response possible in this situation for him.
"Honey, you know I couldn't have done that. I don't know how to do that. I can't even put my word docs on there with out help."
Believe it or not, he was telling the truth. Now, you and I may know that it isn't really any different than using any other drive on your computer, but he doesn't realize that. He has no idea how to put things on there, and other people really do have to help him out.

Well, somebody else seemed to think they were REALLY helping him out. We narrowed it down to a couple of people. If I ever find out which one it was, you can believe we will be having a little chat.

He is not in trouble, though. He had no idea. In fact, I feel a little bad for him. He was duped a bit, and had even been using that at work. He could have gotten in serious trouble for having that at work.

So, all in all, just a funny story about me finding porn he didn't even know he had. Unless of course I find out who did it. In that case, it will goes from funny to head snapping a heart beat.
; )

Tuesday, February 5, 2008

If men had a vajayjay..

If men had a vajayjay:

  • They would all get an extra week of paid sick leave every month.
  • You would immediately be given a real honest to god medal after giving birth.
  • The vibrator industry would be the largest industry in the world.


I will add more as I think of them. Any others that need to make this list?

Thursday, January 31, 2008

Edwards drops out

Edwards dropped out of the race. No! Not Edwards! The race will forever be aesthetically changed now with out his $700 hair cuts. Oh. Wait. I don't care. That’s right. It made no difference to me at all. He hasn't been that much of a factor for a while. Of course, he could always come back as Obama's VP.

I was reading this article about him dropping out of the race. I found part of it particularly disturbing.

Edwards said Clinton and Obama had both pledged that "they will make ending poverty central to their campaign for the presidency."

"This is the cause of my life and I now have their commitment to engage in this cause," he said before a small group of supporters.
Seriously? This is your life's cause? He goes on to say that he actually stopped to talk to a couple of homeless people under an overpass on his way there.
Hang on. Let me get this straight. You stop. Get out of your limo. Adjust you perfect hair. Tell people you are sorry they are in this predicament, and you will do you best to help them. Promise that you will not forget them. Then, get back in your limo, and drive off. Now, call me crazy, but wasn't that an opportunity to help people. I know he can't put everyone he meets into a house personally, but how about taking them to a shelter. Giving them a good meal. Making sure that they get in tough with the right groups who will find them housing, and get them job training, or whatever they need. Those organizations exist. I used to work for one. I mean, come on!! Get real. How full of yourself can you actually be?

How about this. Start going to Supercuts. You can get a good hair cut for $20, with tip, and donate an extra $680 to the cause of your life every few weeks. Don't tell me that won't add up. You could put an entire family in a house in some area for that much every month.
No. You go on. Just pretend to care when the cameras are on. (That is the only time it counts, you know.) Take your comfy ride and your perfect hair back to your own mans now that you are all done campaigning. Again.

Saturday, January 26, 2008

A house is not a home....

Sometimes, in time of distress, you forget about the good, and only see the bad.

Yesterday, my oldest daughter started crying again because we are moving. She just brought it up on her own. Came over to me, told me she didn't want to move, and started crying. I feel so badly for her. Unfortunately, I know that she will have to move a few more times in her life. Such is the life that her father and I chose for her being a military child. She was very upset.

I started to console her, told her that we were taking everything that made this house our home with us. I explained that a house is just a building. It is walls, carpet, and a roof, but it is not a home. It isn't a home until someone moves in, and makes it a home. Home will always be where ever we are together, and of course, I had to use the line that home is where her heart is. She got it, and it did make her feel better, but it really made me start thinking about our home right now.

Right now, it is putting me through so much stress. With all the problems it has had, and the owner trying to force us to move out early, totally interrupting our plans, it makes me feel like this place is nothing but trouble. It also makes me think of the first house my daughter lived in. It was much smaller than this one. When we lived in it, I remember thinking that it had so many issues. Sometimes, I would talk a lot of trash about that little place. Now that I remember back though, it really served us well. We made it a great little home for the time that we had it, and I have a lot of fond memories of it. Now, thinking back, I recall that it wasn't the house that was the problem, it was the maintenance staff that took care of the housing development that we lived in. I remember their incompetence. I remember their not being able to complete a job well or timely, but that was them, and not so much the house. I also remember that I could look out my back windows and see the gulf of Mexico. I remember that little bougainvillea that was growing up the side of the house. I remember the mole that started to live there beside our walkway just before we moved. We tell my daughter now that was her first pet. = ) Yes, that house served us very well.


Now, I am still very stressed out here, and all I see are the problems and issues, but I expect that I will look back some years from now and remember that this house served us very well. Of course, by then, this will just be another building, and we will have moved on to make somewhere else, maybe even two somewhere elses, a home.

My poor daughter will undoubtedly get upset again about the whole move, but she is really very lucky. She has something that many people are never lucky enough to have; a real home. A house can fall down. It can burn to the ground. It is just a fallible building. A home, though, is something that you carry with you. It is an emotional state that a family makes no matter where they are. A home is much more valuable than a house, and she has what I think is a priceless one.

Friday, January 18, 2008

Starbucks - So good it has it's own language.

Chad, the husband, often goes on about how ordering coffee is a different language. I mean, I know it can be confusing and it is a big ordeal for him when he has to order for me. There have been many times that i wanted a vanilla frap only for him to return with a vanilla bean creme. = (
Lilly confirmed how different that coffee language is for me today. We were sitting at the dining table, eating breakfast and going over words in Spanish. I want her to at least have a basic introduction to the language, and we often just go over words. She asks me what something is in Spanish, and then repeats it. Well, as were going over words this morning, she suddenly pipes up "Mom, I know something in Spanish!" "Great!", I reply. "What is it?"

"Caramel Macchiato". Apparently, she was sure that I was speaking a different language every time I ordered coffee. Its ok. That is exactly how her dad feels. = )

Thursday, January 17, 2008

One more thing

I forgot to ad that we received a letter from the owner of our house formally asking us to move 2 months early. He ask us to give him special consideration as he did for us last year when we renewed our lease. I don't remember any special consideration last year. What I remember was us asking if he was going to sale it then, or renew for another year. He told us that if his mother was well, we would renew. Well, he did renew..and raise our rent $100 a month. I don't know what kind of special consideration that is, but it doesn't sound like that much of a favor to me. Of course, moving early for him would cost of thousands of dollars (We plan on staying with family for a couple of months before moving to a new home, and saving money from having no house bills in that time. If we move, though, we will be in a lease, and unable to stay with family and save that money.) That is some SERIOUS consideration and not something that we are likely to do just to be nice. I'm really not that nice. Really.

Crappy Day

You may have seen this on the news, but there was a helicopter crash in Texas late last night. My husband called me about it early this morning. That was his last squadron, and where he is considering taking orders back to. So, he, or we, may know the crew. They haven't released the names yet, and Chad hasn't been able to find out by himself either. So, we wait to find out if any of them were friends of his. Even if they weren't, it is still hard on them when they lose members of their community. Really hard. We have just spent the last hour talking about it, looking at pictures in the local Corpus Christi paper, etc. Very sad right now.

My thoughts and prayers are with the families of the crew members aboard that flight. I am truly sorry for your loss.


Then, not that it was nearly that bad, but a good friend of mine called. Her husband who recently got out of the military just found a job....in AZ! [:(] They are moving at the end of the month, and she needed me to watch their kids so that he could get some things taken care of. So, he brought all 3 of their kids over. That meant I had 5 kids for a good part of the day. It was very sad to know that this may be the last time our girls get together and play. They have been friends since we moved here basically, and were some of the first people that I really met in San Diego. It was totally bitter sweet to have them over for a play date today. I took pictures of our oldest together, and it was funny to see them doing some of the same things that they did the first time we had them together about 3 years ago.

My husband is also up for orders right now. It means it is time for him to select his next duty station. There are only a few places and things that he can select from this time. One of them is something called Individual Augmentation. That means he leaves his squadron alone, and goes over to a combat zone to basically take the slot of someone in another command or even branch of the military. Usually, it means that they get 3 months of training, and then go fill in for someone in the Army. (He is Navy.) Of course, he comes home today and tells me that is what he is leaning toward. I knew that, but I didn't want to know that. KWIM? I have really felt like that is what he was going to pick for a few months now, but now that he says it outloud....well....it just sucks. It would mean he would leave and go to Iraq for a year. He has already been to the middle east twice in all this mess. This time, though, he would be combat forward with an Army unit. Man. I just can't wrap my head around how scary that is. There are a lot of benefits for him to go, but nothing is worth the worse case scenario. All I can do is hope and pray....

Monday, January 14, 2008

House Difficulties

Well, our property management company came by today to do a full inspection at the request of the home owner. Actually, let me add that they were supposed to come by Friday, but just neglected to do so. They called us Saturday morning and ask if they could come over then. We had plans. So, we let them come over this morning. Seems that everything is going to be difficult right now.

Why a major home inspection you might ask. I know I ask why. Apparently, the Real Estate Agent told the owner that he couldn't even show the house in the condition that it was in. So, they came by for a full list of everything that needs to be repaired. What a load of crap. The house isn't in great shape, that part is true. The house is 30 years old, and everything, and I mean everything, is original. That doesn't keep the house from being shown. They just yields a lower price. However, what the agent really means is that we have too much crap in the house, and it looks too lived in. I know that we make it difficult for him to sell. I know he wants us out. That is just tough cookies, though. We live here. We have a lease. I hate the fact that this real estate agent seems to want to play dirty with us. I know this is how he makes a living, but this is where we live. This is our lives. For Pete's sake, we only have 6 months left in the house anyway. Why not just wait to list the thing?!?

So, the property mgmt guy makes a list. I know I named off about a thousand things that were wrong with the house, and I was sure to point out that basically 99% of it was not our fault. Of course, having lived here for almost 3 years with a child, we were bound to alter the property to the negative some. It needs to be repainted. White walls can only bear so many grimy hand prints, even after repeated scrubbing, before they need repainted. We put baby gates in at both the top and bottom of the stairs. We accidentally made an extra hold for the bottom that needs to be filled. Of course, then there are some nail holes from pictures and art being moved around. You know, its all the little things. However, the major things, like the need ofr new water heater, all new plumbing fixtures, the entire electrical that needs to fixed, that we have no part of and the owner is going to have to pony up for.

We try to fix things our selves. We let things go if they are a nuisance, and don't really need to be fixed. We are fantastic tenants. That all makes it even more aggravating that we are being treated this way. I don't look forward to the next few months of dealing with this nonsense.

I know that I am obligated to allow them to show the house with 24hours notice, but I wouldn't recommend it. I don't think that 2 kids running wild will really help their chances to sell, and I am not about to let strangers walk through my house with out me in it. More tough cookies.
For now, we wait to see what obscene list is given to use with things we need to fix. Though, if I were them, I wouldn't play that either. Otherwise we will request that everything we have lived with, as a nuisance, will be fixed. Harrumph.

Monday, January 7, 2008

Poor Unfitney

Sometimes, when no one else is looking, I LOVE To check out all the celeb gossip rags online. Truth be told, I have been sort of mesmerized by the whole Brit Brit saga as it has unfolded. While I was never a fan of hers, her story has just been....well....enthralling.
Now, however, the whole thing is starting to piss me off a bit. I really feel for the girl. She needs some serious help. If she has a mental disorder, which I believe she could, then the girl needs to get help before she ends up like many other celebs who couldn't take the life given to them.
What is really pissing me off, though, would be the people around her. Come on. We, the viewing public, all saw this coming. We have been watching it for months. We knew (I did, didn't you?) that she was spiraling out of control. So, why didn't anyone around her take charge and take care of her? She is more of an asset to them than a loved one. I think Lynn Spears, and the whole clan surrounding her need to be cut off completely. Now, don't get me wrong, you have to want help to be able to get it, but maybe if it hadn't been allowed to get so far out of control, they might have been able to talk her into getting help if they had got an early jump on it. I also remember that she pretended to go to rehab twice. Maybe that was even too late. I mean, there had to be signs that we couldn't recognize, perhaps when she got married in Vegas, that her family would have instantly recognized as being troubled. I really hope that she gets help, whatever that help is. If she needs meds, therapy, rehab, what ever it may be, I hope she is able to get it, and use it in time. I feel for those kids and wish them all the best of luck right now. They need it, and so does mommy.