Wednesday, October 31, 2012

Zombies, Tigers and Cinderella... yea. I'd go see that movie.

Hey folks. Had a minor medical procedure recently so I took another break. The doctor says I will stop repeating myself in a few weeks!   I’m good.  I’m back and feeling better (sassy), so I thought I would do some bloggin’.  Did ya miss me?  Anyone? Anyone?  (crickets chirping).  Well, ok then, haters…. 
I had a post written up about my pet peeves with Facebook. Consisting of 10 – 20 A LOT of different ways people annoy me on Facebook.  Which really just boils down to I’m not patient and kinda hateful.  So I won’t go there.  Between the hateful and the repeated mumblings, I’m a few cats shy of crazy cat lady status.  However I will say something.  People…Those of us who are working don’t want to know that you are off work relaxing.  We want to Facebook stalk people from high school from the comfort of our offices.  Under the assumption that everyone else had to get up super early, spill coffee on their lap on the way in, and were late because of a train.  NO ONE wants to know that you are home, doing your Facebook stalking in your jammies.  Makes me stabby. 
That being said…. Please go like my Facebook page!!!!!!!
The Dr. says I’ll stop repeating myself in a few weeks. I think I want a cat.
Then I thought about writing a post on the elections.  But honestly, that’s so cliché right now.  Bottom line, all the ads make me feel stabby.  I really want them to stop talking.  Here’s a thought.  Vote Gladiator style.  Make the candidates fight for office.  Throw them some weapons like those big swords and harpoon things.  Oh… I love those metal nets… gotta have those.  Add in some hungry lions and tigers.  Maybe a puma.  I would so totally watch a debate between the candidates and a couple of hungry jungle cats. 

Friday, October 5, 2012

Why we can't have nice things....

Me: Can we get a comforter with skulls on it?
Hubs: No
Me: Just look at it.  They are arranged very nicely. Almost a flower pattern.
Hubs: No
Me: Oh, come on.  Don’t be racist… just because they don’t have flesh!
Hubs: (cricket chirping silence….)
Me: We should set a good example for the kids.

Thursday, September 27, 2012

Let me explain to you why Pinterest is dangerous...

(I had a recent discussion with a friend as to whether it was pronounced PINterest or P-interest.  Yea, I don’t know but P-interest sounds too Snoop Dogg for me, so I’m going with the first one. I’m simply not cool enough for Snoop).
I have a pretty strong creative side (read ADD), and in my current job, creativity isn’t really a requirement.  You simply cannot make contracts cute.  I have found that I need extracurricular activities to keep myself focused (again with the ADD) And I don’t mean extracurricular activities like High School FHA … shut up, it was fun!   The dog hates wearing clothing and the Hub said I can’t repaint the house anymore so enter Pinterest.

Thursday, September 20, 2012

And now for a new episode of Texting with Mom.....

It should be noted that this text conversation was not altered in any way a TON completely. 
Daughter #2:  When a guy has an extremely long pinky nail, is that a crack nail?
Me: It could be.  Or he wants you to think that. I think that “style” was over in the early 90’s so it may be bad hygiene.
Daughter #2: It’s his only long fingernail.
Me: No one can account for bad taste dear.  Don’t be so judgey!
Daughter #2: Ewwwwww!!!
Me: And I don’t even know if you use a fingernail for crack.  I think you smoke crack… or inject it.  Long pinky nails were used for cocaine.  Maybe he’s confused. (See Mom, that Criminology degree is definitely coming in handy now!)
Daughter #2: I didn’t ask him.
Me: Did he have a hairless cat and small cloned twin?
Daughter #2: Um…, NO MOM!
Me: Yea. Don’t talk to him. Either he’s an old school druggy pimp, a really dumb drug user, an evil Dr. trying to take over the world with sharks and laser beams or he's hygienically challenged. In any case, he’s not datable.  EVER!!! (This is great advice, by the way - write that down!)
Daughter #2: Definitely! He’s creepy!!!!
Me: Well do you feel like you have had your quota of useless illegal drug trivia for today?
Daughter #2: Yeah, oddly enough I do.
Me: That’s what I’m here for baby.  Also, I’m totally blogging this.
Daughter #2: Great. I’m glad I can help. (this was over text, but I assume this was typed while rolling eyes – possibly muttering)
I can only assume the dude looks similar to this......
It's Dr. Evil, I didn't spend six years in Evil Medical School to be called "mister," thank you very much
On a totally unrelated note, I’m driving to the PEPPER SPRAY store now.

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy!

photo from here

Much like Jack Nicholson in The Shinning… “Here’s Johnny!” Except my name is Missy. And no one is writing “REDRUM” on mirrors or chopping down doors with axes.  And I don’t believe I have been possessed by evil poltergeists but that’s always up for debate I suppose. And let’s face it.  I’m not gonna clean that big ol’ hotel for the entire winter.  Let’s be realistic people!
What I have been possessed with is a bout of depression.  Mine isn’t totally obvious or drastic but it’s slowly taken away much of my energy and ability to do the things I enjoy.  There have been lots of major changes in my life in the last several months and while those were great changes (they really are good), I’ve felt very consumed by them.  To be honest, I haven’t had the desire or the energy for anything more. Dealing with the changes and normal life stresses has made me just emotionally, mentally and physically exhausted.   I have many friends who suffer much greater /deeper depression, and I don’t want to minimize their situation in ANY way, but even in small doses depression is debilitating.  And while I’m not an expert on the subject (though I have read about it on WebMD, so I’m almost an expert), I can only attest to what I feel and how I deal with things.
The thing about depression for me is that I can still function fairly normal.  However I’m just going through the motions.  And it creeps up so quietly that you don’t realize you have been in a fog until you finally start to come out of it.  I’m not sure my family even realized, but I can see now that I was struggling.  But that’s what us moms do, right?  We make sure everyone else is happy and content before we worry about ourselves. It’s a mom thing.
But the good news is I am feeling more like myself.  So that pile of little extra things that-aren’t-vital-to-survival need to be done.  Since I’m a type-A person, I do love me some To Do Lists.  I’ve decided that there are 33 things I want to get done before 2013.  (20+13 = 33 – it’s like I’m Archimedes – He’s the father of mathematics. I looked it up.  Anyone else wish he’d have used protection?  Haha.  Oh come on. That’s funny, yo!) Anyway, I won’t tell you the whole list (don’t be so nosey!) but I will give regular updates.  Just cuz it’s my blog and I can.  And I won’t even make one of the items “make a list”.  Shut up… I’ve done that before.  It’s a process people!
So.  One item is to be more consistent with my blog.  But as is tradition with my hiatus’ (hiati? hiatuses?) I’ve come up with a fake list of why I didn’t blog this summer:
·         I accidently stumbled upon Honey Boo Boo and lost about 50 IQ points.
·         Pitched a show called “Softball Moms” it’s like Dance Moms except less whining and over involved parent’s pushing their kids to the limit … oh.. wait. Nope. Pretty much the same thing.
·         Took my mad farmin’ skillz from Farmville and bought a farm.  Raising goats.
·         Adopted a gorgeous metal parrot named Ricky from a horrendous living situation in Mississippi.  Ok, it was from a nice, clean antique mall… but that doesn’t sound as admirable or less creepy.
·         Attempted to make “couch potato” an Olympic sport.  Failed.
·         Two words…. shark tank.
·         Spent the summer admiring all the wonderfully honest and kind political ads. 
·         Stalked Justin Bieber. Not as a fan…. To prove he’s an alien robot.
·         Spent an amazing summer with three of the most awesome daughters anyone could ask for.  Fact.
If you suffer from depression or think you may be depressed…. Please don’t listen to me.  I’m an idiot.  However your Dr. isn’t.  Definitely talk to someone who has a “real” medical degree… and not one that they created in Publisher.

Sunday, June 3, 2012

It's a good thing I'm here.

Here is a discussion that the Hub and I had this morning. This is confirmation that he is not dedicated to protecting our family.

 Me: Hey, you know what we need for the backyard? 

 Hub: No 

Me: We need to build a little pond and put a bridge over it. 

Hub: No 

Me: Then we can get a troll to live under it. 

Hub: No

Me: Wait... hear me out! Trolls keep away goats. 

Hub: No 

Me: Well just what exactly are we gonna do if there's a goat invasion? 

Hub: silence... accompanied by a seething glare.

Me: Fine. But someone has to think about the children! 

About 10 minutes later when the Hub left the house... I texted him this message:

Well I hope you're happy. I think I just saw a goat in our yard. Now can we have a troll? 

He didn't answer. I assume this means a green light for the troll. I'm googling little wooden bridges right now.

oh sure... they're cute now.  But how can you trust anything with those weird eyes? just sayin'

Friday, May 25, 2012

True Values......

Sometimes in dire situations, the true value of a person comes out and surprises us.  The following text messages prove this:
Me: I’m in the world’s most boring meeting.  Help!
Hub: I’m sorry.
Me: Don’t be sorry.  Help me!
Hub: What can I do?
Me: Pull a fire alarm?
Hub: No. That’s illegal.  Not gonna go to jail.
Me: pfft! Well how about a bomb threat?
Hub: Again, illegal.
Me: ugh!  Ok.  So that means you are opposed to starting a small fire?
Hub: Yes. 
Me: I said a small one!
Hub: Stop.
Me: How do you feel about getting naked and streaking? Or perhaps a strippergram?
Hub: No.  You would get fired.
Me: Oh, I’d pretend I didn’t know you.
Hub: Wow.  How quick you turn your back on me.
Me: yea, yea.  So…. how soon can you get here?
Hub: I’m not even in town!
Me: tease.
About 20 minutes later….
Me: Crisis averted.  I’ve managed to escape. No thanks to you!  Put your pants back on.
Hub: How did you know my pants were off?
Me: I’m psychic or psychotic… either way Dion Warwick says hi.
Hub: No comment. 
What I learned from this story is that the Hub is not willing to do anything illegal for me, but getting naked is a possibility.  This will NOT be handy during the Zombie Apocalypse.  Just sayin.

Sunday, May 20, 2012

Creepy parking garages always ruin everything. Write that down.

Last year for Christmas, I bought the Hub tickets to see his favorite comedian. I won't tell you the comedian's name, but he goes by "fluffy". The tickets were for this weekend, and the concert was held at a gorgeous old theater in the downtown area of our small city.

City may be a bit of an exaggeration, but its not a tiny town either. Our downtown area has undergone a lot of revitalization and has become neat and modern in places. However its a work in progress and there are nice areas and literally a block away are older, less nice areas. Its really rather "hit and miss".

So last night we traveled downtown. Given the rare opportunity to dress up, I wore my rarely worn, but absolutely fantastic high heels. (Go girl!) So I asked that the Hub park as close as possible to save my toes. He found a parking garage just a street over from the theater. Awesome.

Now. I hate parking garages. They are dark, creepy, and I feel like the walls and ceiling are closing in on me. Kinda like a tanning bed or as I call it.. a bright, warm, sunburn giving coffin. Anyway, this was an older parking garage, and it felt much "shorter" than normal. By the time we got to the first floor, I had inched down in my seat in order to distance myself from the impending ceiling collapse. Awesome.

The Hub parks, and we walk down to the street. As we walk down, I decide that the old, decrepit parking garage looks rather spooky. Like a zombie attack location or a future crime scene. While I didn't see body outlines there, I decided that perhaps they had been washed off. I mention this to the Hubs and inform him that if we get attacked by zombies or werewolves, I wasn't above disabling him and making a run for it. Its always good to be completely honest in a relationship. Write that down.

We get to the street and walking down the sidewalk we notice two guys. Both were dressed in normal jeans and t-shirt and one had his face painted like he was a groupie for Insane Clown Posse or wanted to be. And. He was barking. Which was odd because he was painted like a bat or a pterodactyl. I didn't stare, lest I encourage him to fly over and chew my neck off. Never stare down potential prehistoric birds. Flying mammals. Pretty much anything prehistoric. Write that down.

We head toward the theater via a disgusting alley. While in the alley we may or may not have witnessed a drug transaction. The alley was also filled with several restaurant workers sitting on milk crates. They all appeared to loathe life and were drowning their sorrows in Mountain Dew and bad tattoos. Definitely looked like a rapey kinda alley. Or at least a mugging kinda alley. I made note of at least three places where Freddy, Michael or Jason could hide. Also, I had decided that I could, if necessary use my high heels as a weapon. Though I really love those heels, so it would have to be a dire emergency. I'm like the McGyver of surviving unrealistic, impossible fantasy attacks. I restated my plan of leaving the Hub behind if necessary. See? Honesty. Awesome.

The best part of the night? Walking back thru the area at 11:30 at night. Yep. Like a boss.

This is an example of the scary parking garage at 11:30 pm.  Except there are less lights.  Broken concrete.  Cracks in the pavement.  Shattered windows.  Ok. This is nothing like the parking garage at 11:30 pm.

So. Here are the takeaways from this story.
One: The Hub really knows how to be romantic.
Two: I now know what its like to be in a b-rated horror movie.
Three: Fluffy was great despite the impending assault or zombie attack awaiting us in the parking garage.
Four: Always be honest with your relationships. Especially facing fictional, unrealistic danger.
Five: There are always weapons to be found if you are creative.
Six: I'm trying out new power words/phrases. This week phrase is "awesome" and "write that down". It's a work in progress.

Write that down.

Thursday, May 10, 2012

The clever exclamation mark....

I have a confession.  I have an addiction. Yes!  It’s true.  I tried to hide it from you guys but as it turns out…. It’s rather public already.  So to defeat this obsession and to try to make a go of my life I’m going to try some self-examination and therapy (as you recall, I am ALMOST a doctor…. Just missing the 8 years of education and stuff…Lame!!!!)   Publically on my blog.  Here goes:
I am an abuser of the exclamation mark.  (see above paragraph) Yes.  I love them.  I use them in all kinds of situations.  To over stress the obvious.  To show extreme happiness.  To extreme sadness.  To display my anger at something or someone.  These are often accompanied by a smiley face or a frowny face.  Or my personal favorite… angry face:  >:O! Yes.  I also abuse emoticons.  (Man I have problems). 
I use exclamation points for emails, texts, quirky abbreviations, posts, tweets, air quotes… you name it… I use ‘em.  If we were in the dark ages when typewriters were the only available writing tool, I would have worn out that button… then the number one would be an innocent bystander to the undeserved violent end of said exclamation point.  Oh. The humanity!!!!!
And worse, most of the time, one isn’t enough.  I have to add two, three or fifty-seven.  Sometimes the poor question mark is thrown into the mix.  Yet another inadvertent victim of the abuse.  Apparently I hurt everything around me!  See?!? I just did it again.
I wonder if there is a twelve step program to help with this?  But who would I make amends to? The number 1? The question mark? And what of the ampersand?  Does it need an apology?  I mean, I rarely use it.  And sometimes I use it incorrectly.  Just like all the other punctuation marks. 
Don’t even get me started on the … .  This is used to insinuate a pause in my sentence.  For example:  Uh, Yea……. I did take upper level English in college!…..duh!?!? See? See what I did there…. Both obsessions in one.
For those keeping score:  16 exclamation points.  11 question marks. 42 mostly unnecessary periods.  One angry face. >:O  woops, make that two. 
Hello. My name is Missy, and I have punctuation problems. And sadly, I have hypocritically been guilty of lol-ing.

Friday, April 27, 2012

How to make Charles grumpy....

I know that lately, all of my blogs start out like this:  “Sorry I haven’t blogged for a while but….[insert feeble excuse here]”  Well, this one is no different.  I’ve found consistency to be very relaxing. 
Sorry I haven’t blogged for a while but I’ve been pretty stressed out.  Daughter number one is changing jobs and has requested my mad resume skillz, clothes and shoes.  Daughter number two is graduating high school and apparently needs all of my attention, money and shoes. Daughter number three (who is too small yet to borrow clothes or shoes) … I think is secretly plotting to kill the first two girls so she can have all my attention.  And don’t go thinking I’m all cool and stuff.  No.  They want my attention because they don’t want me to have any peace WHATSOEVER!  
Then there’s the hub.  He’s always pestering me with annoying questions like “Did you pay the gas bill” or “have you balanced the checkbook” or “why do you sit in the corner and cry all the time”.  Ugh! So demanding! 
So this morning the following events may or may not have occurred. 
The hubs and I have decided to ride together so that when daughter number two comes into town, we only have one car to deal with.  The hubs isn’t fond of being my chauffer.   Something about me being a diva or hating being called Charles… whatever.  Anyway, he finished getting dressed and was waiting very patiently for me to finish.
Hubs: You about ready?
Me: Yea.  Just a few minutes.
Ten minutes later
Hubs:  How much longer?
Me: Um… almost done
Five minutes later
Hubs: Really?  How much longer?
Me: Dude… it takes time to make all this awesome happen (gesturing from my head to my toes – which still did not have shoes on them).
Hubs: You know I hate to be late.
Me: I’m almost done.  Chill!!
Much huffing and puffing on the Hubs part, and we are out the door.  I only ran back in twice for things I forgot.  Apparently being chauffeured around brings on forgetfulness… who knew?
So we get in the car and as we back out of the driveway, I look at the clock on the dashboard.
Me: Oh, we should hurry… I’m running late.
That’s when that vein in his neck started throbbing.  So out of respect for him I did not call him Charles.  Much.

Sunday, April 15, 2012

yea. I got nuthin'.....

It was late at night. The thunderstorm was in full swing. Lightning and thunder alternated creating a chaotic symphony of light and sound. The rain pelted the windows as the wind whipped east then west then east again. The lightning illuminated the room becoming almost blinding each time it hit.

She sat on her bed. Ipad poised. Keypad and blue tooth synchronized - blue light verified that both were working. A blank page was open and her hand hovered over the key board. Her glasses poised on her nose, diet coke beside the table.

Smartphone beside her, open to Evernotes with numerous ideas, both complete and partial listed on her "writing" notes section. Words misspelled, evidence of a hastily written thoughts; most likely quickly typed during the morning drive to work.

She was ready - in every sense to begin writing. Yet. Every idea was a dead end. Nothing seemed to work. She started several sentences only to delete them shortly thereafter. Her thoughts jumbled and oddly blank.

All she could think of was the movie Mean Girls. Why were buses running over people? Was there no speed limit? Doesn't the driver understand the school zone? And why doesn't the driver see this girl? Seriously... what is wrong with me????

Saturday, April 7, 2012

Little known facts about Easter preparations at the padded room....

Here are some little known facts about Easter preparations at the padded room... enjoy:

Pre-made sugar cookies with the cute little imprints of colorful bunnies and chicks do NOT taste as good as the package promises. I suspect a bait and switch, but cannot confirm this as of yet. There's a conspiracy here. I'm quite certain.

Regardless of having a list, I will most certainly forget at least two items necessary to make food for Easter lunch. Guaranteed.

Despite my uncontrollable pregnancy cravings some 18 years ago, I still love me some chocolate covered marshmellow bunnies. And i still eat the heads off first.

The glitter egg dye that daughter number 3 insisted I purchase promises to make a monstrous mess in my kitchen. Further I predict I will most likely still be finding said glitter by the time Halloween pumpkin carving rolls around. This years pumpkins will be FANCY!

Daughter number 2, the one who keeps leaving her shoes ALL OVER THE HOUSE - where some people continually trip over them, cannot be trusted to fill plastic Easter eggs when Kit Kats are involved.

Walmart at 5:00 on the Saturday before Easter Sunday is apparently the meeting location for every insane and last minute person in my town, the candy isle is more chaotic than Black Friday, and the frantic crowd makes some cashiers entirely too friendly wherein they insist on calling you honey and sweetheart. Conclusion: Only an insane person would go there at that time. At least that's what I hear. AND having a hot flash in the three person deep line was the icing on the cake. Also, the pouring rain than threatens to drown me in the parking lot was really a cherry topper on that cake.

No matter how old my girls get, I LOVE that they still color Easter eggs, get excited about their Easter gifts, still get dressed up for Easter Sunday and sit with us at church. My girls are awesome.

Happy Easter everyone!

Sunday, April 1, 2012

More parenting advice....

On a long car ride this weekend, daughter number 3 (she's 10) is chatting about a confrontation between her and another little girl at school. From what I gather ("gather" not because I wasn't listening to her and playing with my ipod or anything) there was an incident during a kickball game wherein the little girl hit daughter number 3 not once but twice in the face (note: good moms don't laugh)... so when I quit laughing, we determine it may or may not have been on purpose. Here's where the tale picks up:

Daughter 3 - So then she hit me again in the same spot! (Sounding dramatic and over-reactive.... and I have NO idea where she gets that....Shut up!)

Daughter 2 (She's 18, and spreading hate and discontent) - So did you hit her back?

Daughter 3 - No, I just turned and walked away.

Daughter 2 - Why you gotta be the bigger person?

And that, my friends, is how to raise loving and caring children. There goes my mom of the year award.

Sunday, March 25, 2012

Even zombie millipedes find Laurie from Walking Dead annoying!

Less than a week after the vampire spider incident, I had another near death experience at the scene of the crime.  As I was getting ready the other morning, a millipede crawled up from the drain in the Hubs sink.  The little bugger had crawled up from somewhere and it was staring at me at 6 am.  To read of my other 6 am antics, read here.
So I promptly poured a cup of water down the sink to drown him.  A few minutes later, he was watching me put on my make-up.  Not knowing how many lives these millipedes have (cats have like nine and apparently the Kardashians have an unending supply - kinda makes you wonder doesn't it?) anyway I dumped another cup of water down the sink.  He came back moments later.
About that time, the Hubs comes in and I tell him to watch out, as clearly we have a situation brewing.  He says, “yea right” and dumps a third glass of water on Theodore. Anything that comes back from the dead that many times needs a name, right? The Hubs doesn’t have much respect for undead bugs. **sigh** I'm working on it people. 
So we don’t see Theodore for a quite a while and I assume that means he was just really good at holding his breath.  We continue to get ready and a good fifteen minutes later, he reappears.  And he looks ticked.  I mean, we have tried to kill him three times that would anger anyone.  His little antenna was flicking in a very threatening manner. Also, I swore I heard him complain about Laurie from the Walking Dead being a whiner.  Which is kinda true. 
Here's my artistic rendition:  Also as a side note, finding a picture of a millipede kinda grossed me out.  Those things are freaky.  Even before being all dead and bitey!

Then it dawns on me.  Clearly he’s a zombie.  It’s so obvious. And once again, I had to save humanity and cut his head off.  I’m like the Van Helsing of modern times – with better hair. I totally should get paid for this stuff.
I also came to another conclusion. My house is some sort of vortex for undead bugs.  I suppose that means that I should sharpen the swords, polish the leather boots and make me some wooden daggers.  All I’m saying, is this better not cut into my Hunger Games reading time.  You know, those games would have been really crazy if there were some undead bug roaming around.  Just sayin’.

Sunday, March 18, 2012

Busy saving humanity....

Sorry I haven’t blogged in a while.  I’ve been busy battling undead things.  Yea.  Like in the movies.  Except less bad acting and no leather thigh high boots.
I was in the shower the other morning and I saw a spider.  I hate them almost as much as millipedes.  This was the biggest spider ever.  Like big from that really bad syfy movie with all the pretty people and bad acting where they fight alien bugs.  You know the one - Neil Patrick Harris is like a General or something and Denise Richards almost gets eaten by a huge brain sucking grub-worm looking bug (I think there could be a Charlie Sheen joke in here... but I can't do everything for your people!). Can’t remember it, but this spider made those look like babies. *****UPDATE***** Ok. Maybe it wasn’t quite that big, but it was ginormous.  It looked something like this…..

So with my cat-like reflexes and nerves of steel, I drowned the spider and watched as his lifeless body slowly slid behind one of the thousand shampoo bottles in my shower.  I finish the shower. Yea. It’s how I roll…  I’m like a robotic, professional hitman that way… bug death doesn’t affect me. 
But as I’m shaving my legs, I accidentally knick my ankle. (Definitely a typical day).  And as I’m checking out my injury, a little bit of blood drips to the shower floor.  At that VERY moment, the dead spider (or so I though) washes down to the drop of blood.
Life preserving measures took effect and I immediately recognized it as a vampire spider.  I didn’t take a photo because… well I was in the shower and that’s just weird… but it looked something like this….
FYI: Those would be bloody fangs.  Cuz, you know... the whole vampire thing.

At not even 6 am!  Yea! I know.  I’m sure there is some reasonable explanation about the transformation.  I mean.  I thought I understood the whole vampire rules thing, but now they are shimmering, mixing with werewolves and walkin’ in the sun… I just don’t know anymore. 
So to save myself and all humanity, I beheaded it and finished my shower.  As you know... beheading is the end all be all of killing the undead - everybody knows that - beheading... always go with beheading.  But, yea. I got mad vampire spider slayin’ skillz yo!
So friends, that’s why I’ve been lapse in blogging THIS week.  Someone has to keep you people safe.
***Starship Troopers!  That’s the movie!  Thanks bad syfy movie lovin friend!

Saturday, March 10, 2012

It started in Kindergarten!

Here’s more confirmation that my insanity started at a young age.
When I was five years old.  I wanted a new bike for my birthday.  I had it picked out.  It was a “big girl” bike complete with gears, a basket and those tassel things for the handle bars.  It may or may not have had a big flag.  I’ll never tell. It was blue and green and was completely and totally awesome.
So my mom, knowing me by that point (shut up… I was adorable), said that if I went to my first day of kindergarten without crying that she would get me THE bike.
Now what you have to understand, and I learned this over the next several years (and this does explain a lot), while I was an only child, I was… brace yourself… a summer birthday.  Yes.  It’s true.  While all the other kids got to celebrate their birthdays with cupcakes and treats in the classroom, I had to do a “group” party with all the other summer birthdays.  It totally sucked.  Totally.
So it just so happened that the first day of school was right after my birthday.  Therefore my mom… thinking it wise… used bribery to get me to behave.
For weeks heading into my first day of kindergarten, I got new school supplies, new clothes and new tennis shoes. This was gonna be great.  It’s totally all about me! My mom and grandma spent weeks building up this “kindergarten gig”.  So when the time came I was like pretty psyched. 
So dressed in my new clothes and shoes, I walked into this room with lots of other kids.  They were running amok.  I am an only child who hung out with only adults.  These other kids were loud.  And running around.  I instantly didn’t like it.
The teacher greeted me and my mom and showed me my cubby.  And where the carpeted kitchen/reading area was.  And while this was all fine and dandy.  I couldn’t imagine where my mom was planning on sitting.  I mean.  All the tables were small and there were only a few adults still in the room.
Then the realization hit me.  She was planning on leaving me with these kids.  Seriously? These kids were loud.  And rowdy.  And probably germy (yes.  that started early too... shut up!).  I already knew how to tie my shoe, my alphabet and to count to 40.  I certainly didn’t need to learn anything else. 
Then the first sniffling cry fell on the room.  A mom was sneaking out, leaving her wailing snotty kid behind.  Then another, then another. What would possess my mom to leave me here?  I couldn’t see a benefit at all.  I mean… now, I’m terrified.
Then, she looked at me and said.  Don’t forget, no crying or you won’t get your bike.  Well, if I had no other reason to cry, then that was it.  I bawled like a baby. Along with every other kid in the room.  Except that one kid that ate glue.  Anyway. Now that I have children of my own, I can feel for the teacher.  Although my kids all ran into the room and never looked back at me.  What the heck!!?
But for me at age five.  It was terrifying and horrible.  I don’t remember much else from the day.  Clearly I lived and somehow managed to make it through grade school, high school and college.  So apparently I “like” education.  Yet oddly enough... not a fan of loud kids and germs ... still. 
By the way.  I totally rocked that bike.  Which I got despite crying.  It’s no wonder I’m totally spoiled!

Tuesday, February 28, 2012

Such a loser!!!!

I know, I know.  I’ve been a total loser and haven’t blogged in like forever.  I could tell you that I started a new exercise program which has left me completely drained.  I could tell you that we have had a computer malfunction (not to be confused with a wardrobe malfunction…. Totally not the same thing) or I could tell you that I’ve had bloggers block.  All would be true, but it basically boils down to I’ve been lazy.  You wanna know the best part about having your own blog… yea… you can blog when you want.  So there you have it.  I’ll quit being so losery and do better.  Promise.  Now… on with the wonderful crap written word.
When my alarm went off this morning at the dreadful hour of 6:00 am, the first thought that ran through my mind was “you have got to be kiddin me!”.  Followed immediately by… “is there anyway I could be sick?”.  A quick self-evaluation proved that not the case.  So then I thought “If I don’t put in my contacts, I could stay in bed like three more minutes” and “I wonder how important promptness is to my job”.  Then I decided to quit being a jerk and get up.  But…. I didn’t like it. 
Despite my first thoughts of lying to stay in my warm bed, I got ready in record time and was on the road like five whole minutes early.  See … that whole no contact thing works.  I can’t see the clock, but I’m sure I’m early.
Anyway, my mornings are always rushed.  And the 25 minute drive in to work usually consists of me making sure I’ve done all the necessary things in preparation for work.  The important things like… have my phone.  Put on lipstick.  My shoes match… well, you get the idea.  This morning was no different.  And as I’m sitting at a traffic light, I realize with horror, that I’ve forgotten deodorant.  Well… that stinks. Literally…. (hahah! Get it… stinks.  Ok.  moving on with less 3rd grade humor.)
No need to panic, my second daughter (who refuses to carry a purse), leaves all kinds of things in my car and I’m positive I’d seen deodorant floating around.  Along with two gloves (neither match and their mate is missing), window scrapers, Tylenol, straw wrappers and a container of grapes (don’t ask).  I know, I know… my car may have the appearance of hotness… but simmer down.  Its all mine!
So the next light I’m digging for the deodorant and not finding it when the guy behind me honks.  Yes.  Honks because he/she has had to wait three nanoseconds at a green light.  Its not like we were three cars back and the car in front of me just started moving and really…how is gaining that second gonna get you there quicker? Whatev!!!!  So I politely wave at them.  No.. not the middle birdy wave, but a “yea. I see you, you impatient  tool … I’m moving… chill out” wave.
About two miles down the road she passes me and slows down to glare before zipping in front of me.  Wow. Mature! So I wave again.  Cuz that’s the polite thing to do, right? 
Just a bit later I catch her at the stoplight. ((it should be pointed out that she made up NO time with her impatience... just saying) She’s in the lane beside me… her anger of my irresponsibility is long gone, because she’s searching for her lighter in her purse.  At the green light.  Four cars behind her… none are happy. And one honked Yea. 
So that’s my story for today. I made it to work early.  And have deodorant in my desk – at least I hope it was deodorant… cuz I can’t see anything. 

Saturday, February 4, 2012

Why I'm always tired... -or- Why I should not be left alone to care for the children

Until now, most of my blogs have been about my current crazy life.  However in looking back, it appears Ive always been a tad crazy unique whatever.

So I thought you would like to hear a story from several years ago.  And its not so much that you would like it as much as its my blog. So ha!

My little one was about two years old at the time.  She was in a front facing car seat.  And by "in" I mean when she chose to stay "in" it.  She had become quite the escape artist. No joke, I had to pull the car over numerous times to wrangle her back into the seat. 

So one morning I had to take her to the babysitter and the dog had an appointment at the groomer.  So I put the dog in the car.  The Scottish terrier did not like anyone or anything, but he did appreciate a good car ride.  He would jump between the front and back seats and the side windows checking out the view.  Leaving nose prints on the windows.  Yea...Thats how I roll.

I get Stinker buckled into her car seat and it looks like we are good to go.  Then I realize I had forgotten something in the house.  I am quite certain I growled, but jumped out to retrieve said item, and yes... you guessed it. I somehow locked the keys in the car.  With baby and dog in the car.

Now the weather was not cold or hot, and we were in the garage.  The car was not running, so there was no imminent danger. As a matter of fact Stinker was thrilled to be in the car with the dog... she was smiling and pointing to him, laughing. Not unhappy or scared. The dog was happy... he was going for a ride. Front of the car, back of the car. Front of the car, back of the car. Left, right, left, right... he was thrilled.  Apparently I was the only unhappy person. 

So the Hub was about twenty or so minutes away, and once I had him headed to the rescue, I decided that perhaps the dogs hypernes could help me. Im like a domestic MacGyver that way.  So I tried to persuade him to jump to my window thinking he would step on the unlock button.  Yea.  He didn't understand why I wasn't in the car with him.  After two minutes of me calling him, clapping my hands and tapping the window he decided this was not gonna work for him and he curled up in the back seat to pout.  So now he was ticked at me. Great!  Hub was not happy and now the dog is ticked.  Oh and Im not happy!  GREAT morning!

Well, Houdini junior was in the back seat, still smiling and waving at antics with the dog had been super entertaining for her. In another MacGyver moment of genius, I think that maybe I could get her to wiggle out of her car seat and unlock a door.  The child had escaped almost daily for a week... this should be no problem. Yea.  Sure nothing wrong with this theory.

So Im talking calmly to her telling her to get out of her seat. Im using my baby voice and wiggling my shoulders as a demonstration to mimicking her escape. She finds this hilarious.  I'm pointing to the button saying "push the button, push the button, honey" and she shows me her belly button.  Ok, cute but ineffective. She's giggling and laughing but NOT getting out of the car seat. Sure.  Going 70 down the highway she can worm out and hug my neck, but no... When I need her to help me out she's behaved.

At one point a neighbor drove by to stare at me hopping around in the garage, talking to a seemingly empty car. Move along, nothing to see here. Its no wonder our neighbors don't talk to us.

The end of the story is that the Hub came and unlocked the door. The dog was happy on the car ride, but very disappointed to find himself at the groomer. Turns out he's a wall hugger.  And Stinker wormed her way out of the car seat before we got out of the neighborhood.  Its no wonder Im exhausted.

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Fail to plan or plan to fail... or some crap

So a really good friend and I went to the opening night of the new Underworld movie. For weeks, we have looked forward to this movie.  Having seen the pervious movies several times, believing that we too could be ultimate vampire hunters, and wishfully thinking we can fit into all that black leather, the day could not have come quick enough.  My friend picked the theater with the big screen.  After having experienced this theater, during a recent Twilight fiasco that left us sitting on the front row. Where I got motion sick. Twice.  I was understandably cautious. So, I knew we needed a strategy. 
See, I am a bit, somewhat, a lot OCD, and like to go into a situation with a plan. Much like Selene, (and the boy scouts) I am always prepared.
I like having the who, what, when, where and how lined out so that there are no surprises (like sitting on the front row with the 20 year old girl talking NONSTOP during the movie, and crying when Bella “dies” Seriously, there’s another movie!  Did you NOT read the book??)  Ok.  So. I wanted to see Selena on my terms. Which was NOT the front row with the slobbering chick.
So, convinced that we needed to get to the theater early and wait in line for seats, the drive to the theater consisted of me planning our seating strategy.  When you fail to plan, you plan to fail.  I was ready.  I shared the Twilight puke fest with my friend, and rolled up my sleeves.
We get there and I ask the attendant how many tickets had been sold for our movie.  She looks and says.  “I’ve sold 7”.  What?!?! NO WAY!  Well, clearly the people seeing this movie on opening night are superior and have gotten their tickets online or at the kiosk.  OR used a different attendant.  Or perhaps this attendant is lying, not knowing about the Twilight craziness. 
I was deterred but not fooled.  I continued the original plan.  My friend wanted to go eat.  A hurdle…Ok.  Well if we hurry, we can do that, but we gotta hurry.  Of course we were running later than I wanted, so I had to reassess the insanity plan of action.
On the drive back to the theater, I am in strategy mode.  If I were five, I would have ran into the theater, knocking people down and grabbed the first available seat then demanded popcorn. But people frown upon an adult woman running around like a five year old, so I had to be mature.  Dang it!  So being a great planner (read: OCD)  I mapped out the best route:  We would go get our seats then take turns getting snacks. 
By the time we got to the theater, my friend was feeling my anxiety and was agreeing to my crazy plan.  Apparently crazy is contagious.  Or it’s a lot like Stockholm syndrome without the whole kidnap and torture thing.  She was all jittery and ready to knock out (in a Selene like fashion) anyone who got in our way.
I distinctly remember thinking and possibly saying over and over “I can’t sit up front… I just can’t” as we literally raced to the theater, opened the door, rushed down the aisle.  Totally prepared to threaten teenagers to give up their seats or fake an Lycan emergency, we looked up and found….
A theater filled with twenty people.  Yea.  Turns out, all the Underworld fans went to another theater.
So, we’ll chalk this one up to the egocentric, obsessive compulsive!  Yea.  My poor friend will never go to another movie opening with me again.

Monday, January 9, 2012

And so it begins.....

So. I hope you all had a great holiday. I took some time off and enjoyed it with my friends and family. I literally did nothing for like a week. It. was. wonderful.

However. Something interesting happens when you spend extended "together" time with your family. Yea. The professionals call it insanity. So in order to spend a week and a half with the fam (three girls, two of which are teenagers and the youngest is ten going on 14.... yea... I KNOW!!!) I have become adaptive to the situation... I invoke unique coping techniques... lest I loose my ever-lovin' mind.

The hubs takes the "watch sports 24/7 technique", which results in said teenagers rolling their eyes and leaving. Me, well I tried napping, but teenagers don't appreciate the sheer beauty of the afternoon nap. I tried hiding... but turns out teenagers are resourceful and smart. SO this past holiday, I found a great, new coping technique. I call it.... obnoxious mom. Yea... I'm like a pro already!

The beauty of obnoxious mom is the said teenager will eventually roll their eyes and walk away. Singing loudly in the car, trying to be "hip and happening" with their friends, writing sweet memories of their childhood on their Facebook page, and threatening to make them join me at Walmart are a few examples.

However effective, one has to use this new power with caution, as a the teens can turn the tables. I call it... obnoxious teen. Here's an example... the following conversation took place with my oldest daughter.

Bugz: Can I borrow a headband? (Understand that this is how teens show love... I buy hair stuff... they use it, then lose it before I can. You know.... love.)

Me: It will cost you five bucks. And you have to let me name your first born. I like Penelope Swifferton.

Bugz: Ha. Ok. (wow... way TOO easy, I should have tried hiding again).

Me: How about Smoochy McGiggletart?

Bugz: Tart. Fart. One mistake and the kid is picked on for life. (yea... that's the biggest concern here).

Me: Yea. I see your point. Ok. How bout Sparkly Kenzington?

Bugz: Maybe. How about Frederick McBeddington?

Me: Ok??? (what's wrong with Sparkly?) Hmm.....kinda rhymie isn't it?

Bugz: Uh. No. It sounds like an upper east side New York journalist.

Me: Ok. I can get behind that. But what if he’s a doctor. Dr. McBeddington sounds like a bad sitcom on ABC Family. Or a muppet. Or worse... a 70's adult movie star... yuck. You cannot name your kid after a muppet.

Bugz: Ok. We’ll find another snooty name.

Me: Yea. That one's pretty much ruined now. Darn my ingenuity!

So I suppose we can only hope that her future husband is more influential that I am.... secret plan... I'll totally give that kid a rockin' nickname. Plus one can only hope that her child will also invoke obnoxious teen to counteract her shenanigans. Its the circle of life.