Losing my mind, one text message at a time.

Hey Peeps!  Hope all is well and you aren’t freezing your tookus off!   I know I keep saying that I’ll do better with blogging, but let’s be honest…. I’m lazy. And I’ve been busy working on a ton of projects.  But mostly I’m lazy.  And forgetful.  I may have an acute case of amnesia for “to do” lists.  Seriously.  Sometimes when I’m sitting down watching Netflix, I think… there is something I should be doing, I just know it.  Then I think, well, if it were so important you’d remember it…. and I go back to helping Sherlock solve London’s problems, one OCD issue at a time.

But because I’m a “fixer” and stuff I’ve decided to quit being so lazy.  To help me remember to do stuff, I started sending myself text message reminders.  Unfortunately the majority of my amazing ideas occur at very inopportune times.  Such as bathroom time.  No need to get detailed, you get the idea. 

Driving.  I have amazing ideas when driving, but texting and driving is so last year.  And the ancient art of finding a piece of crumpled receipt/napkin in the back seat and a working pen from the front passenger door and scribbling notes while driving with your knee is more dangerous than texting.  And the results are so hideous that even hand writing analysis experts would deem them serial killerish. 

But the best ideas I get are, are by far, right before I fall asleep.  Here is where the tricky part comes in. If I get up to write something down, I’ve ruined that extremely brief moment where sleep is either right there or hours away. And if I don’t write it down then two things happen.  My mind races about all the things that have absolutely nothing to do with the original idea or I forget it within a few minutes.  But, if I gently reach my phone, type a text….. problem solved.  By the way, I don’t text and drive much ever, but I do use the voice recognition thing.  So sometimes when I say “New pic” it comes out “Newton’s pig”.  Then I have to decide why Newton had a pig and why I care enough to text it and it is all very headachy. 

Anyway, so these text messages are mostly a great idea.  Until the next day.  I give you this fine example.  The conversation balloons are what’s going on in my head.  Consider this your one and only warning. You can’t unsee this stuff man!

MOTB or Get LifeAlert you old Bat!

I have always tried to keep personal things about my children out of this blog.  It’s my choice to share my crazy life, not theirs.  I try to allow them as much privacy as I can and keep them anonymous –or as anonymous as they can be with me as their mom.  So with that in mind, let me give you a basic rundown of my girls.

Daughter #1 is 22, very laid back and easy going.  Exactly opposite of me.

Daughter #2 is 20, very outgoing, extroverted with just a pinch of OCD loudness.  Exactly like me.  Like we actually have the same thoughts sometimes.  It’s like having a prettier, younger evil twin.

Daughter #3 is 12, going on like 17, is also laid back and is really just a sweet little girl.  Exactly polar opposite of me.  Like dogs and grass different.

So there you have it.  I have the most awesome kids ever.  (take that Brad and Angelina).

But here’s the thing.  Raising daughters is not a walk in the park.  It’s more like a walk on a creaky, old, narrow, swinging rope bridge with fraying rope and lots of cobwebs of emotion, that can go either way at any given moment, and you are constantly waving your arms like a flight attendant and standing on tippy toes trying to maintain some type balance.  And just when you think you have this whole parent thing balanced out, you are thrown a Molotov cocktail. All of a sudden there are giant anacondas, alligators, and sharknadoes trying knock you off that teeny tiny bridge into the ice cold water of death.  Or a nervous breakdown… basically the same thing.

The most recent large, bitey-alligator I’ve been Swamp Men wrestling is Daughter #1 has announced she is getting married.  And in all truth this is great news.  The Hubs and I are very proud and happy for both of them.   But here’s the big bite-off-your-leg- with-inverted- alligator-teeth-all-while-trying-to- drown-you-by-this-confusing-spin-move, worthy of a WWE superstar. (I gotta quit watching Animal Planet and apparently wrestling).  It hit me like a ton of bricks.  This is going to make me a “mother of the bride”. Me.  I’ve been to a White Snake concert! I’m what’s known as a “cool mom”.  I just got done having to drive a MINI VAN!  I had an Alley McBeal moment where my dead, lifeless body sat in a lazyboy chair with the remote in my had and my 20 cats starting to eat my toes.

Now, as you can imagine.  We have known this would happen eventually.  One does not have three beautiful daughters and get out of the marriage Gladiator Arena (I watched A LOT of TV this weekend).  It did not come as a shock when Boy #1 asked Daughter #1, as they had been dating a long time.  So the event was not really new.  But me.  Old enough to be a “mother of the bride”.  That… that is preposterous, insane, and terrible vicious lie.  The cat lady thoughts ran through my mind as I sat in the garage, eating ice cream from the carton (mint chocolate chip for those curious types).  How can I be the “mother of the bride”?  So.  I pondered. I thought. I grieved for my long lost youth.  I ate some more ice cream in the hot garage.  Then, I got up and went to bed.  After all, “mother of the bride” or MOTB needs her rest (it was almost 9:00 pm), lest she gets rowdy and breaks a hip.  “MOTB down, I repeat MOTB is down!  Call for backup ASAP. Get that old lady a LifeAlert jiminy crickets Myrtle!”.

However, upon waking the next day, it occurred to me that I… we would get to take over help plan a wedding, so the MOTB horror was momentarily forgotten. We talked colors, locations, why the dog could not walk the rings downthe aisle, and how doves can poo a lot thus not a good option as a finale.  Things were looking up.  Until we started looking at wedding dresses.  Then Bridesmaid dresses.  Then Mother dresses. 

Who? Who designs these things? Martha Washington? Seriously? And who decided peach or tan were good colors for anything, let alone a dress?  NO ONE looks good in peach or tan.  And what is “organza”?  And why would I wear something that sounds vaguely naughty though I’m not sure why.

I researched further. It seems that MOTB dresses come in two styles. 

Option #1 - Conservative Queen Elizabeth peach/tan variation probably in organza or a smart polyester blend, three- piece business suit type dress to be worn with “sensible” shoes and a large floppy hat.  I felt as though I would need to stomp down divots at the Kentucky derby during the reception.

OR

Option #2 - I am reliving my teenage years via my poor daughter, because I’m in the middle of my midlife crisis thank you very much. Do not call me mommy dearest, why is it so flippin hot in here and I’ll be darned if that bride will get all the attention, because I look so hot in this low-cut, inappropriately see thru lacy thing to be worn with six inch hooker heels because by golly I may be old, but I’m stylish (If I were Sher doing a music video aboard a navel ship) dress.  

And I can’t do either because, let’s face it, I look frumpy in peachy, business suit dresses, I look horrible in a hat and I certainly can’t pull off that outfit Sher has on let alone figure out my way into or out of it, and it would be a REAL pain when I had to potty like five times.  And there’s no way I could wear those thigh high boots.  Plus I was told I couldn’t wear black to the wedding (or butt-less leather thong suits).  Or white.  Or dance down the aisle as I was walking in.

So at least now I have a mission.  To find the happy middle ground.  I can now focus my attention on this task at hand, rather than making out my last will and testament and scoping out grave plots.  And I have another year to get used to the MOTB title.  Yea. That’s likely to happen. 

Murder on the Orient Express? Kill Bill? These are indeed trying times in the kingdom? eh... you pick one.

I have a story for you – and it is long…. But hopefully worth your time. 

This is a cautionary tale.  In the spirit of the season, we will call it a Horror Story.  One made of nightmares and bad English.  Yes.  Internet purchasing. 

Once upon a time, there was this awesome, beautiful, thin, cool, smart, young-looking princess (shut up, this is MY story).  We’ll call her Missy (cuz it’s me), and in an effort to get her Christmas shopping started early decided to place a few orders on-line at the beginning of October.  Because as it turns out, Missy is organized, prompt, and ready for the season.  Ok, Missy is just plain lazy.

So several orders placed, several gifts purchased, Missy is feeling very proud of herself for getting a good start on the Holiday Season.  Items start being delivered and Missy is feeling very ahead of the game.  Almost smug.  She may have even boasted to friends…. Perhaps with an air of arrogance.  Ok.  I taunted the crap out of them.  All was good in Missy Princessland.  At least until one item had not been delivered three weeks later.  The Princess was concerned, but not overly worried.

One day last week, being the responsible, organized person she is (shut up, it’s still my story), Missy decides to clean her email box.  And located in the SPAM folder is an email from the store where the missing item was purchased.  Clicking on that email, she found a photo of the item, price, specific details that were unique to the purchase and her address.  She also notices a link that says “to complete your order, click here”.  Thinking she had erroneously neglected to complete the process, she quickly follows the link and reorders the item.  Remember this item hadn’t arrived yet, so it made perfect sense that the original order was incomplete.

At home that very same evening, a package had been delivered.  Missing item, no longer missing.  The email, a fraud.  The item, adorable.  The Princess, ticked.  So immediately Missy sends an email to “bill” of the fraudulent spam email bills asking to cancel the second order – this was sent the SAME day. 

I won’t give you all the gory details, but we will cap this with: it was a pain in the rump, and “bill” was completely ridiculous and “fraud” isn’t a term that’s recognized in China.  So I contacted my bank and filed out fraud paperwork.  After “bill” reminded me that he had my card number and address, I also cancelled my card.  Lesson for all you kiddies…. Don’t put thinly disguised threats in writing.  That’s called evidence.

But much like Lord of the Rings trilogy, where you think the movie is over a dozen times, but it really has two more hours, this was just the beginning.

Yesterday, I attempted to use another card from the same bank (different account) only to find it declined.  Upon researching the issue, I find that an order for software had been placed with my card, a fairly large amount, leaving a zero balance (interesting, huh?  The odd amount was for exactly what was in my account). 

Now.  Hear me say this:  Not every company from oversees is bad – not every Chinese company is bad.  This post is NOT intended to be a stereotype or a country-bashing session.  I’m simply relaying my saga, and it happens to be from China.  This isn’t meant to discourage you from ordering from China, rather to advise you to use caution when ordering online period.  I should also note that I have no proof that the two incidents are related, other than the fact that I don’t believe in coincidence.

So.  The moral of this story is this:

·         Don’t trust “bill” – also, “bill” doesn’t understand sarcasm so it’s a complete waste of time….

·         If you purchase on line, be sure to monitor your accounts.

·         Your bank will not loan you money to hire an overseas hit man. 

·         Websites change their “skins” so you often do NOT know who or where you are buying from.

·         After I cut up the two cards, I immediately had a most uncontrollable urge to buy something.  I think I may need professional help.

·         I am renting the movies Kill Bill 1 and 2 this weekend.  Just for the irony of it. Again, maybe some help is necessary.

·         And lastly, my bank has been absolutely wonderful (AGCU).  I received advice and assistance immediately and they were very knowledgeable about what to do.  So hats off to Tiffany and Juanita.  You are da bomb! Thank you!

I hope someone reads this and learns from my errors.  And “bill”…  watch your back my friend.  

Happy shopping!