Christmas Wrap Up

NO STRESS BAKING

I have never done the massive baking that some do for Christmas, because I am not a very good baker.  Oh I have tried even with the aid of many a recipes, but most times my creations end up in the trash.  Unfit for human consumption.  Just ask those that ate my pecan pie only to discover the runny middle.  Not good.  So, since this year I am pregnant and grumpy I decided to go with a fool proof way of baking.  Besides, all the kids wanted was to sprinkle little candies ontop of some dough and eat the ones that got away.  No one has asked about the cookies, since. 

First, we started with anything and everything that could be bought at the local grocery store.

Then the little clumps of dough were laid out for the kids to do with what they will.

There was much care taken with each piece of dough.

You must choose your sprinkles carefully.  Don’t pay any attention to the fact that
there are six different sprinkles to go with 6 clumps of dough. That is just silly logic.

Now, they are all purty and ready for a little heat.

While those other ones baked, we decorated some with icing.

You see he didn’t have to sweat all day to be proud of his cookies.
He just needed a little help from the store and learn to stand up to his pushy older sister.

Santa seem to enjoy them.  And we suspect the dog, too, as these pieces would not
be left for the kids to find the next morning.

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CHRISTMAS EVE

No rest for the weary.  After a night of parties, looking at Christmas lights and meeting Santa, JUST WALKING ON THE STREET,  there was a rush home to make sure we didn’t miss the big guy in red.  Everyone was tucked in by midnight, which ensured a late wake up call.  Well, I guess that is true if some of us weren’t knocked up and had to peed every 5 minutes. 

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care.
You are damn tooting “with care”.  Last year we lost one of our very special silver snowglobes,
because someone wasn’t careful.
Santa went light on the stockings, this year.

The presents were stacked under the tree with anticipation of giddy little kids.

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CHRISTMAS DAY

Can’t you see his excitement and not my bad photography.
This would not be his favorite present, although it would make a good first impression.

We couldn’t catch her excitement, because the little stinker snuck down earlier to
take a peek.
This would not be her favorite gift.  Not really sure which one was her favorite.

The feeding frenzy:

Then tragedy strikes and therapy bills start to mount:

While SoHubby was busy putting this thing together:

(This would be one of Sam’s favorite gifts.)

I was put on the duty of releasing all the toys from their wired, taped, plastic prisons, which resulted in this:

Yes, that’s right folks, I decapitated Hannah Montana, IN FRONT OF Amber.
There was much wailing and rolling around on the floor, because “MOM, KILLED HANNAH MONTANA!”.
Well, someone had to, HA! 
It didn’t matter that not only does Amber have 2 other Hannah Montana dolls plus a Miley Cyrus, but she has
about a bazillion other Barbies that could fill in, while this one made a quick trip to Santa’s doll hospital.

See:

Sorry for the nudity, but when you have this many dolls to clothe, you ran out of time.
Note to toy companies, there is no reason in this world that you need to include a Barbie
in every accessories or new play set. I am drowning in Barbies over here. And Hananh Montanas.

Once I explained that I would contact Santa and ask him to send a new one, things calmed down and we went to church.  Obviously, to pray for Hannah Montana and to release the demon that made Mommy rip her head off.

Later, we would catch the toys just hanging out:

Batman (Sam’s most favorite toy in the world) would hold court while the Star Wars gang
decorated for Christmas (a little late guys) and Ironman pouted, because he wanted to be
in charge.

Hannah Montana and Lily would hang out at Rico’s for much of the day, while Fancy
Nancy looked on, feeling left out.  Later, Hannah and Lily would claim to be too full
from nachos and fruity beverages to eat the holiday meal I prepared.
INGRATES!!!

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THE DAY AFTER CHRISTMAS (OR THE REASON I HAVE THE BIG ‘OL SUV)

I am not big on Black Friday shopping, but I am big on getting those after Christmas sales,
especially on decorations.  We are all set for next year at half the price.  I can’t wait to have fully functioning reindeer
and enough lighted garland to wrap the house.  And along with all the new toys comes a desperate need for more storage.

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Christmas was fun, but I can’t wait to see what the new year brings.  Next year there will be 3 kids and hopefully a fully functioning mother to do all the things that we might have missed this year.  Tops on my list will be to get a picture of all the kids in a Nativity scene.  I have my Mary, Joseph and, finally, a Baby Jesus.  I am all set for the perfect Christmas picture.  I can’t wait!  I can feel the anticipation and dread in the air.  Stick around to find out how it all turns out. 

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!  and may it bring you joy and happiness.

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Gift-Giving Gone Bad

Recently, during one of  my many up way too early moments, I caught a Suze Orman show.  She was explaining that her family had made the decision this year not to exchange gifts, because of finances.  While she could afford to get them all gifts, she didn’t want to get them something to then turn around have them all immediately think they had to run out and get her something and possibly put it on credit card.  This has stuck with me, but I have a problem with it.  When I get a gift for someone I do it because I want to.  Okay, I admit that I have run out and got something for someone because they got something for us.  This mainly happens when kids are involved, like when a couple of Amber’s friends got her a gift, last year, that we didn’t expect and I immediately ran out to get them something.  I just think it is harder for kids to understand and who wants to let down a couple of kids.  Although, at this stage of the game my kids have either not noticed or cared that they got something for someone and they got nothing for them.  I don’t know if it is their age or their dispositions.  I hope it is the latter.  I have tried my best to instill in both kids that it is not what you get that is important but the time, effort and thought that someone put in to it.

Recently, I misunderstood something that was said at the end of one of our gymnastic classes.  The teacher was excited because the next week was going to be a gift exchange.  I had heard nothing about this and we don’t do anything like that at dance class, so I was shocked.  I made a mental note to pick up a little something for the kids in both the kids’ classes.  It wasn’t hard to do, because there are only 2 in Sam’s and 1 in Amber’s class.  I was able to pick up a little something I thought the kids would enjoy at the stock stuffing area at Target.  There was something in my gut that told me that the other parents might not bring gifts, but I didn’t really care.  It wasn’t much money and it was just something nice for the kids.  For the record, I totally spazed on Amber’s dance class.  We missed the class before and I didn’t remember until the moment we parked at the school that this was the last class before Christmas and we should have, at least, brought some candy.  I wasn’t that concerned, because no one has ever made another child feel bad because they didn’t bring anything.  Most of it is just candy that is passed around and do the kids really need more candy?  However, I noticed that tinged of guilt and quick explanation from the mother of one of Sam’s gymnastic classmates as she had nothing for Sam.  I was quick to tell her that it didn’t matter and what we got was just a little something.  There was nothing to worry about, but I wonder if she really understood what I was saying?

Then it happened again, today.  We exchanged gifts with our friends.  At one point, my friend had asked if the adults could not exchange gifts.  I said that was fine, but the truth was I had already had their gift in mind.  It was a picture of the kids.  Nothing big or expensive, just a little something.  Also, it was finally a year where I knew what I could get them.  I understand the gift giving anxiety of buying for adults.  You never know quite what to get, because most adults get what they want for themselves.  Then things that you would really love to get them are out of your price range.  I think I am missing that special gift picking gene, because I never know what to get people, especially adults.  It always sucks to exchange gifts with those people that have that gene and then some.  So, when my friend looked at me today and said, “I thought we agreed not to exchange gifts.”  I, again, said no big deal.  It was something I wanted to get them and I thought it was perfect.  I mean they are godparents to Sam and Amber idolizes her.  And hell, I am pleased as punch to get the angry Santa picture of her little one to which we can pull out in years to come and laugh.

I hate that my gift giving has cause even the smallest ounce of anxiety, because it was not my intention.  I simply wanted to do something nice for someone and there was no need for return of any kind.  I think we have become such a PC society that simple gestures of kindness are immediately met with an anxiety to immediately thought of  how it can be returned.  Quite frankly, I have accepted that as an adult gifts are not the most important thing in the world.  SoHubby and I have often said that we are not going to exchange gifts for birthdays, anniversaries or Christmas.  If I find something for him that I think he will truly like and never get for himself, I am more than happy to pick it up for him.  Matter of fact, I had said that we weren’t going to exchange gifts this Christmas, but then find somethings that I think he would truly like.  I, finally, had to tell him that I got him something, so he didn’t feel like total shit come Christmas morning.  What I hate more than gift giving anxiety is shopping anxiety.  That anxiety you feel as the days close in on you  and  the  million stores walked finding nothing that jumps out at you for that person.  I would much rather give a gift that I have confidence in than worry about getting something in return.

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Recession, What Recession?

I know I have heard about some economic crisis going on in our country.  I think someone might have mentioned that this is the worst since the Great Depression and pretty much the world is going to end.  Did you hear that?  I keep hearing it, but it is getting hard to find it.  First example is that our church can’t find anyone for the Angel tree.  WHAT?!  That tree has been overflowing every other year, but this year the priest has begged for anyone, ANYONE, to come forward and let us know who needs help this Christmas season.  Then there is the shopping.  The malls have been filled, Target has had many scurrying about and it in general people seem to be going about spending as usual.

Why do I bring this up?  Because I am terrified.  Not really terrified that since we have had to take a pay cut or cut some luxuries from our budget, but of buying.  I have never really had this feeling before.  Yesterday, SoHubby and I stood in the middle of the computer area of Best Buy wrenching our hands as our kids run around us in circles trying to decide if it was really necessary to get a new router.  Our current router is slowly dying and it is getting very frustrating to only use my laptop standing on one leg in the middle of our downstairs bathroom.  The question of do we really need to do this race through my head.  The answer should be, of course, this is how SoHubby runs his businesses.  If we don’t have Internet then how do we run the machine that brings in the dough.  BUT, the work computers are hardwired into the current router, and as far as I can tell, it is just the wireless that is having troubles.  So, is it really necessary for us in the house to have wireless Internet?  I do pay bills online and check other accounts, but that takes up about 5% of my Internet time.  The rest of the time I am just reading blogs and Babycenter.  I could tell you that it keeps me sane, because I am a SAHM, afterall, but is that really a good enough excuse?  Then there is the TiVo.  My beloved TiVo.  I am not all that sure how it works, but I am pretty sure that the lifeline to all the kids’ and my shows has to have that wireless connection. 

The biggest problem that I find with a cut in pay is that we are not do it ourselfers.  Before, we either called people in or replaced whatever was broken.  However, when you are trying to save money and being responsible it gets to be a little hard.  Mainly, we stand around scratching our heads and yelling at each other what we think is the problem and how to fix it.  That is not much help when either one of the ones doing the yelling has no idea how these things work in the first place.  Although, SoHubby has a much better idea than me.  I, generally, just plug or turn on items and hope for the best.  It doesn’t help that it seems as if all our belongings seem to have it out for us.  There is the audio reciever, the box under the TV that carries sound from all our watching pleasures, deciding it has worked hard enough for us these pass 7 years and it will only work when it decides.  Which then leads me to say, “Hey, let’s cancel Netflix for awhile, because you know it is a little annoying to get off the sofa every 5 minutes to bang the hell out of a metal box until the sound comes back.”  SoHubby thinks that is crazy talk, because it is “only $20″.  Well, it is $20 bucks that we are basically throwing out the window, because we CAN’T HEAR ANY DAMN MOVIES.  Then there are the Christmas lights that decided, “Hey this half over here?  Yeah, we are taking the year off.  I know we only work about a month each year, but we have decided that is more than enough.”  Then there was the upstairs toilet that decided to just run (Overachiever!) all night, until I woke up and kicked SoHubby and asked him to go jiggle the DAMN HANDLE, ALREADY!  And while there are plumbers here, we might as well get the rocking toilet downstairs fixed, too.  I mean it is only been rocking since we had the floors done about 4 years ago.  Sure, it freaked our guests out whenever we had them over, but we never charged for the ride. 

So you see how heart wrenching it was to stand in the middle of Best Buy with our appointed Geek telling us about the 18 month no interest and giving us a heart stopping Geek Squad estimate.  Because the experience wouldn’t have been so bad if either one of us know how the hell these computer things work.  The price of the router not so bad, the payment of having someone come in and connect it to all our magical devices, mindblowing.  After we decided that we just can’t live without our Internet connection flowing from every corner of our house, SoHubby fills out the paperwork.  Guess what we were only a measly $50 away from 18 months of no interest, BUT we didn’t need anything else and to me buying just to get to Best Buy’s magic number of a year and half of paying $27 a month didn’t seem very logical.  I know I am crazy, but I just said we will take the 6 months no interest, thank you.  Then SoHubby bugged out his eyes and proclaimed that we have been approved for $3000.  I knew at that moment his mind was not full of sugarplums, but large flat screen TVs, Bluray disc players, a new surround system, and HD TiVo.  I being the adult in this situation had to just say, NO.  I mean our TV, surround sound, DVD, and TiVo are only 7 years old.  Back in the old days, you know when you bought things with the expectation of them lasting longer than 5 years, my father would buy equipment and  I seem to remember those items lasting far into my teen years, if not longer.  I mean the TV in our bedroom is older than both our children put together and the length of our marriage.  So is it too much for the expensive items, like TVs, DVD players, surround sound and, even, the damn Christmas lights, which I would like to remind you don’t get used that much, last longer than a nanosecond?  So, excuse me if I don’t go around the house and make sacrficial offerings to all the items in our house and surrounding area.  Anything for the madness to stop and little relief from the constant money suck that has been going on around here, lately.

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Her First Lesson in Money

It appears that when we leave our city for adventures further north in the Great State of Louisiana, we learn many things about ourselves.  Like, when we get together with other Republicans, fish, not kittens, are on the menu.  Or there are time warps that can take place at the local mall.  Or your seemingly sweet, innocent daughter can transform into Paris Hilton in the matter of seconds.  Who knew that a simple trip up North (Alexandria, LA) could teach us so many things?

Amber is no stranger to malls.  With me as her mother, one stop that is a definite is that I will find the local mall, where ever we may be visiting, and go exploring to see what the locals are buying.  Mainly, what I find is that every mall is selling the same thing as my local mall.  Although, sometimes I will find that stores have frozen in time.  This time it was circa 1996.  It is fun to time travel.

As we walked around the lovely little local mall of this small little Northern town, we stumbled upon a Dillard’s.  When there is no Coach store, go for Dillard’s, they will satisfy that Coach craving you have been having, but been ignoring for months.  We weaved our way through the shelves of Dooney and Bourke purses laughing at the hideous patterns, then things took a turn for the worst.  Amber grab some pink thing that I guess is high fashion and jumped up and down screaming that she wanted it.  No, SHE HAD TO HAVE IT.  I calmly placed my hands around hers, which were gripping the designer bag, and explained that there was no way in hell she would be getting a $300 purse at the tender age of 6 years old.  Oh no, there is a lot of pain, suffering and unspeakable things one must do to earn such pretty things and she will have to wait until she was married to discover what they maybe.  Not understanding the strange words falling out of her mother’s mouth, Amber went into full fit mode which was our cue to get the hell out of Dodge.

Lately, Amber has been asking for things whenever we go into stores.  Whenever she points out something that she would like I have told her to put it on her Christmas list.  I figured this would be great, she wouldn’t get everything her little heart desire right at that moment, there was something to look forward to and I would have a blueprint to go by when it was November and I wandered the Toys R us trying to remember everything she has ever asked for.  It was going so well, that Amber started a list for her brother.  AW!  So sweet, until the Envy monster slipped through the window one night and corrupted my baby. 

We have moved on to a new approach, the allowance.  I don’t know much about giving kids an allowance, so this is all new and scary territory for me.  We (and when I say we, I mean I thought about it gathered my information and then over dinner one night I laid it out for my husband who nodded his head, explained how good his pasta was, and uh huh me to death.) decided that Amber would get $6 a week.  That is $1 for every year that she is alive.  What does she do to deserve this, nothing exactly.  I figured in later years when this $1 for every year that you are born is not quite enough, we will put dollar amounts on some of the more unsavory chores around the house, cleaning the cat box jumps into my head, and let her earn more money that way.  Also, she will be required to put 20% into her piggy bank, which when full will be carried to the bank to put in her savings account, and 10% will go to the church.  That will leave her with a windfall of $3 a week to do with what she will.  I know those percentages don’t add up, but instead of carrying out a bag of change everyweek, we rounded up.  Although, she may be able to buy every piece of candy that crosses her path, that doesn’t mean she gets to eat it.  I do still have a say, because until the government says I am no longer legally obligated, I still have control in what goes on around here.

Just as I suspected, my innocent little daughter turned into a fat cat and ran around the house screaming about how rich she was and all the things she was going to buy.  I had explain that $3 doesn’t buy much and that maybe she should put it aside to buy something bigger later.  Pshaw!!  That is just crazy talk, woman.  So as we shopped for groceries at Wal-Mart (Yes, I have been beckoned back for the low prices, once again.  Can’t say I am happy about it.), Amber was a non-stop chatter box asking if she could get this or maybe that, oh no, this, wait maybe that would be better over there.  Finally, at the checkout she settled on a tube of mini M&M’s that she would eat after lunch.  *sigh*  Is school starting, soon?

I thought that it was over and she would forget about her stash of money, bu,t oh no, we still had gymnastic class to go to and there were many pretty things there to buy, too.  “Mom! Mom! Mom!  I am going to buy a leotard when I get to gymnastic class” she screamed as we were getting ready to leave.  “I don’t think you have enough money.  Those leotards cost $30 and you only have $3″ I said trying desperately not to lose my mind.  “Oh no, I have $100.”  she said all knowingly.  I ignored it.  We went through gymnastic class without incident, even when she saw the shiny leotards and asked to buy one.

Later I would find that she had over $7 in her wallet, so I interrogated her on where the money came from.  Of course, without the bright lights and a bad cop to back me up, I got no where.  So, I took the money for savings and church and gave her the rest.  Then I gave the most horrid of threats that ever could have crossed her ears, “I will put this piggy bank in my closet, if I ever catch you taking money out of it.”  “OH NO!  MOMMA, I promise I will never take any money out of it.”  That will teach her to be so greedy that she steals from herself.  Once again, parenting is keeping me on my toes and I am stumbling as usual.  I hope all this hard work and mind games will get me some responsible adults or, at the very least, rich ones that can buy me that big dream house on the beach, I have always wanted.

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You can’t say that even when you are about to DIE!

I have no idea what is going on with the husband type person I am living with, recently.  It seems that I can do no right. His only points of reference: my current and appropriate use of foul language and my fat.  Oh yes, he did.  MY FAT!!  The fat that took up residence on my stomach when, I don’t know, I bore his 2 huge and ungrateful children. 

Putting all that aside, I am really only piss about this whole not cursing in front of the children thing.  I guess I agree on some level that I am not suppose to go around screaming, Fuckkity-Fuck-Fuck while the children quietly play with their Legos, but sometimes it is appropriate and nothing else will do.  Like, when I am driving along minding my business listening to the lovely Hannity and some stupid crackheaded bitch decides she needs to occupy the space that I am currently occupying.  Here is a lesson in Physics for you assface, it can’t be done without one of us dying and today, I choose you.

Yesterday was a dark and stormy day and a few things came to my realization: 1. Swim class was canceled, unless we wanted to see how true it is about pools and lightening and 2. I needed to get a couple of things at the mall.  What did I need?  Well, don’t judge me, because we all know that everyone in America loves the shopping thang, but I NEEDED some more of my extra special, totally burn your eyes out shampoo and Sam NEEDED a Batman t-shirt.  You know, for all those times we are in the park and he needs to kick some 1 yr old ass wearing a Joker t-shirt.  Believe it or not, but Gotham is not the only place where evil for evil sake takes place.  So off to the mall we go in weather that looked more like a hunker down in the basement type time.  Although, we live in the South, don’t have basements and know that any chance of flood is a chance for free stuff, right?

After a lovely day at the mall where I felt all warm and cozy spending all the money my husband was beating the streets to make, I decided we had enough retail therapy and needed to get home before Sam broke out of the stroller to beat that nasty little girl toddler in Pottery Barn kids with a wooden mixer.  I would have agreed with him that she totally deserved it, especially when she screeched at the top of her lungs that the entire kitchen playset was her and ripped a fabric $39 cookie from Sam’s hand.  She is lucky I was there to stop him and he was not, yet, wearing his Batman shirt, because I could have sworn I saw the tell-tale signs of the Joker smile coming across her face.  And maybe if her mother would have paid a little more attention to her heathen in training darling little girl, I wouldn’t had to whisper to my kids about ignoring the spoiled brats of the world and schooling them on the quiet torture of mental abuse. 

We are driving along approaching the Huey P.  when all of sudden out of no where this green old ass minivan swerves into my lane.  So I do what any self respecting Mother Bear would do, I hit the brakes, swerved, laid into my horn for good measure and yelled out a nice FUCK YOU, BITCH!!  In my defense, I thought we were all going to die and Sam was asleep.  It is a proven fact that kids don’t retain anything in their sleep.  As for Amber, she had yelled out in pain when the straps on her carseat dug into her shoulders, which was more reason for me to be pissed the hell off.  Of course, this wonder of sperm and egg junction decides that she does not need to be in my lane, anymore and merges over 2 lanes.  I ask, WHAT THE FUCK?  I decide to take a little gander at this subhuman specimen and she is just laughing and talking on her cell phone.  That pissed me off so much that I was ready to rumble in the middle of the street.  Which, I would agree with my husband would have been inappropriate.  I sat seething in my driver seat wondering what kind of mental fucktard is getting driving licenses these days.  The only thing to soothe me was the thought that if she would have hit me, she would have regretted the verbal assault I would have rain down on her dumbass while my kids quietly sat in the Suburban listening to the sweet sounds of Mr. Hannity.  While I am being honest here, I did envision me kicking her ass.  Not that I am saying that would or could happen, just letting you know what soothes me in a time of crisis.

So you see dear sweet hubsand of mine, it was totally necessary to spew forth a few unsavory words to expell the rage that rose up inside of me.  You know another totally appropriate time for such a tirade? The next time you poke my stomach and hint at my fatness.  And just because you don’t say the word, FAT, doesn’t mean that I don’t know what you are getting at.  A few little points:  that is not anyway to get me in the mood *wink* and that is a good way to find out if there is really water only 3 ft below our ground line. 

Sleep tight.

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Summer Update 7: I Survived

Amber hates our dates night.  So much so, that you would think that when we leave we will never come back and she will have to live the rest of her life with MawMaw.  I haven’t told her, but I think if she just took a minute to thinkabout it, it wouldn’t be such a bad setup.  MawMaw tires easily and is quick to give in.  This pass week, with our visitor, I had decided that it would be better to take her along with us.  This led Amber to more hysterics, because why does Teen get to go and not her.  Well, because I am a horrible mother hell bent on destroying my daughter’s life.  That’s why.  Of course, Daddy rushes in and becomes Amber’s knight in shining armor.  And they say those only appear in fairy tales.  He promised her that they would have a date day, to which Amber excitedly replied, “Wewillgettogotoamovieanddinnerjustlikeyouandmommy!!”  Yes, all in one breath.  It would later evolve into date day with Sam, as well,  where he would be dragged on the big day of fun with Daddy leaving the evil mother (that would be me, if you have lost track) home all by her lonesome.  YIPPEE!!!

Saturday night, after a long day of dropping off Teen and cramming other errands in, I felt a little sickness afoot.  Sunday, I awoke feeling like the living dead, except that wasn’t enough and someone decided to kick my ass, too.  I think I have traced it back to the half eaten brownie that my daughter had gnawed on before rejecting.  It was the last of the brownies and I just had to have it.  Well, I think my little carrier monkey gave me the crud.  Like always, the crud for kids is pretty much nothing, but for adults it leaves you immobile and very cranky.  Oh lucky day, I get to stay home all day feeling like death warmed over while the kids and Dad get to have buckets of fun.

The agenda:
Church
Brunch with friends
Movie
Dinner at Shogun, which has become Amber’s favorite restaurant because all the Asian ladies called her, Princess on her and Daddy’s last date night.  It helped that she had on her very puffy dress and every piece of toy jewelry she could find.
Home

Somehow, George managed to work in some leftover work he needed to get done and a trip down to Da Parish.  Needless to say, I was not happy about it, but decided not to give him too much grief.  I recieved various status reports and while the children were well behaved, George claimed to be tired.  Oh, poor baby is tired.  Welcome to my world, muthasucka!

Me?  I laid around wishing for death and watching a few movies that are inappropriate for wee ones.  On the showing list:
Old School:  You my BOY, Blue!!  And Will Ferrell, you are the master. 
Love Actually:  The best love story that was ever made.  Those British are funny, with all their weird accents and insulting everyone left and right.  Maybe the Revolutionary War was just a misunderstanding of words between us colonists and those squirrelly Brits.  Nah!
My Cousin Vinny:  More funny speaking humans.  Marisa Tomei really deserved that Oscar for that movie.  Favorite line:  It’s called disclosure, DICKHEAD!!  Well, you know it is better if she said it.

The day would conclude with me greeting the kids home with hugs and kisses, because I missed them, then quickly realizing why I needed a day off.  Only next time, God, when you answer one of my prayers make sure I am as not sick as a lab monkey.  Thanks.

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Today, I woke up worse than yesterday.  I had hoped and prayed that it was a 24 hour thing, but sadly God doesn’t answer prayers of those who don’t go to church come hell, high water and massive mucus build up.  Oddly I did have the energy and will power to clean house.  Needless to say, we missed swim class, because hey who wants to be in cold water in the hot humid summer while your head is as filled as a zit ready to pop.  Then there is the fact that no one wants to be near you, your dripping nose and swim in your snot.  I think I made the right decision.  However, I knew that I needed to get out of the house at some point.

I had a hankering for fish.  Not just any fish, but Zea’s Trout Lafitte.  Oh, the creamy sauce with huge lightly fried shrimp swimming over a perfectly grilled fillet of trout.  One thing I didn’t realize was that it was “Be a Huge Asshole Day” at Target.  First, no parking spot to be found.  No big deal, I am willing to walk, even if I am half-dead and craving fish flesh.  A new kind of zombie.  I do not like finding a parking spot in the vicinity of Timbuktu only to have to push 2 carts out of the way and then to the cart corral.  Oh yeah, I am nice like that.  Of course, you know I cursed the sonabitch that left them there.  I thought of just leaving them in the middle of the parking lot, but then I got a glimpse of Karma having someone hitting said carts right smack into my car. So, I walked my sick ass pushing 2 carts and guiding 2 wayward children away from certain death by car.  Our journey wasn’t quite over as we stood at the edge of the parking lot waiting to cross to get to the restaurant.  Not one rude ass muthafucker stopped to let us pass.  There were old men barely able to see driving at top speed, there was the stupid bitch oblivious to the world around her on the phone and just random assholes not willing to stop for a mere 20 seconds so we could cross.  So, if the kids and I wanted to eat we had to make a run for it.  I held onto Sam’s hand tight and instructed Amber to RUN FOR HER LIFE!  I am proud to announce that we made it safely to the restaurant and enjoyed our meal.

While at Target, I got a neti pot .  (Oh wait, how did I just make it to Target?  Well, the restaurant is in a mall that has a Target, duh.  Keep up will ya.)  I get these sinus problems often and my friend has told me many times to get this little marvel of the times gone by and all will be better.  I think I need more practice.  First, I had to ask the Pharmacist for one, which made me wonder if I really wanted this device.  You know anything behind the Pharmacist counter should be handle with care and by a professional.  I am capable of neither. 

Then, I use it.  Holy mother of God.  One must remember to leave one’s mouth open.   I forgot and paid dearly.  This leads to much choking and disorientation.  I didn’t see any mucus removal, but there was much tearing and tasting of salt water.  The kids, of course, gathered around to watch the spectacle that is their mother.  I mean how many times do you see your mother make a little pot of salt water tea and then proceed to shove it up her nose to only watch it drain out the other side.  If this was back in the olden days, I would be proclaimed a witch and burned at the stakes.  Anything for some relief.  Afterwards, I did feel a little bit better, but suddenly I could hear the ocean in my ears. 

Another helpful reliever of my sinus problems is the Coke Icee.  And you don’t need a prescription, just a freakin place that doesn’t have their machine on defrost.  I stopped at 2 Burger Kings, my regular dealer supplierplace to get an Icee.  What the hell is going over there?  At 2pm in the afternoon, both places were packed.  Did someone get the munchies all at the same time?  Oh, but I remembered, hey, I could use some gas and they sell Icees at my local gas station. What I found when I entered was not Icee, but something called Snoee.  What the fuck?  Well, I was desperate and much like the drug addict who will smoke oregano when faced with no hope, I went straight for it.  Wasn’t bad.

Our gas station has recently be taken over by a large group called, Brothers.  They are forgein.  Don’t ask me where they are from, because I don’t care as long as they have some form of my drug beverage of choice.  I asked the guy at the counter if they were still going to sell Shell gas.  He said, “Chicken?”  ”No,” I say “Shell gas.  Are you still going to sell Shell gas?”  Unintelliable, “we will have a kitchen over there,” he replied  I give him the money and wonder if I have gone deaf, like someone else, or if I am just crazy from the sickness.  I chosen  to believe he doesn’t speak the English too well and go about my business. 

Next stop to drop off my directionally challenged daughter at gymnastic class.  I don’t normally just drop Amber off, but I was way past due on my oil change and thought my hour sitting trying to see her class alllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll the way in the back would be better spent getting said oil change.  I told Amber to take off her dress, get out of the car and go into the building.  The first thing my lovely daughter does is go the wrong way.  The gym is in an industrial area and there are many large trucks barreling through the parking lot.  I promptly yelled, as she had already made it about 2 offices down, for her to get her lily white heiney back here .  Then I noticed that her leotard is on backwards.  Good Lord!!  Help this girl make it through her elementary years.

I hopped out of the car giving Amber an earful as I stripped her down in the back of the Sub to right her leotard and get her going in the right direction.  Ah, unseemly, maybe, but sometimes you got to do what’s you got’s to do.  I informed her that she was headed in the wrong direction and maybe she would have more fun, if, you know, she didn’t go into the office furniture store but into the gym.  My completely blonde little girl, without a clue, shrugged her shoulders and, finally, made it to the correct door.

It was a long mucus filled day with many adventures.  One I am happy is over.  Now, onto the next day where I hope we will find ourselves at swim class or have us swimming far into the winter months.  *sigh*  My life, can someone stop it so I can get off?

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Child Style

I know it has been awhile since I posted over there, but I have a new post up, today.  Do you get heart palpatians when you shop for swimsuits for your little girl or girl teenager?  Well, join the club.  Please tell me your position on this heavily debated (and I mean on Mommy boards everywhere) topic.

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The Mother’s Race

I, often, wonder how my children will remember me.  Will they remember the times we dance in the kitchen to my laptop, the times I threaten to eat their feet with the vacuum, the times mom took them to the house that smelled like old people so she could talk to a woman that was not related nor friend to us, or will they remember all the times I went batshit crazy over nothing.

I am very rigid.  I admit it.  You can ask what I will be doing anytime of the day, any day, and I can almost give you the same answer every time.  It is just me.  It is my comfort zone.  But sometimes I want to do something spontaneous and exciting for the kids.  Today, that would be a trip to Party City to see if they had gotten an appropriate Spongebob pinata in stock.  When I told Amber, she seemed unexcited.  You know, because it is only for her big birthday party where all her classmates are invited and she just had to have Spongebob everything.  I pressed on, because I just KNEW it was going to be fun.

We found our pinata after much wrangling of wayward children, requested trips to the stockroom for just another look and the dreaded employee who offers balloons.  Then the one thing that no mother wants to see or hear erupted from Amber, “Mommy, I have to go to the bathroom!”.  We walked around to find a bathroom, but there was none to be found.  So I did what any loving and caring mom would do, I told her to hold it until we get home.  I mean I am sure her pea size bladder is able to hold until we make the 30 minute trip home.  My job here is done.  Nah, not really, just put off until a very inconvenient time.

I struggle to keep the kids from being run over in the parking lot while they are concerned that their balloons will escape.  I know what a tragedy it would be for them to lose their balloons as a Dodge pick up rams them.  *sigh* Then there was the fight to get not only the kids into the car, but the balloons that were so desperate to escape and fly in the wind.  Sam was confused about this balloon thing, but knew he didn’t want his to leave.  Amber knew the deal with balloons and my hatred for them.  She was determined to hold onto her until I, finally, snapped and forced her to release it into the wild. 

Finally in the car, I hear the second thing no mother wants to hear, “Mommy, I have to go REALLY BAD!”.  So now I must play beat the clock.  Of course, I am in the height of the afternoon traffic jam and at a stoplight.  Precious minutes are ticking by and my anxiety level is high.  Amber is quietly sitting in her seat waiting for either a bathroom or her bladder to burst.  The light turns green and we crawl at a snail pace to my U-turn.  Would it be too much to ask for someone to let us in?  I mean it wasn’t like they were going to be any further then we would be.  I find my hole and I gun it, only to find myself behind a car full of OLD PEOPLE.  OH MY GOD, the dreaded car of old people, who don’t care when they get to their destination; they are just happy to be up and out.  I am right there at the Wendy’s.  I just want to turn in, so I can avoid cleaning a urine soaked kid and carseat.  The Car of Death refused to move from their appropriate car link from the car in front of them.  All I needed was a half of inch, so I can get through the driveway.  I thought of running over the curb and through the bushes.  I mean why else do moms have SUVs, if not to get us to a bathroom for our potty challenged kids?  If you guessed I flashed them a smile to get them to move, you have no idea who you are dealing with.  I laid on the horn and yelled some PG language and they moved up.  I think I might have scared them, but don’t mess with a mother faced with a child holding a full bladder/  Finally, we had made it to bathroom where Amber could pee and I could embarrass myself further.

As we are getting out of the car, I am on high alert.  Just because we have made it to the parking lot doesn’t mean the race is over.  I have to get the kids out without the balloons escaping and then have a 5 minute conversation with Amber of why I should take her balloon off her wrist, while making sure Sam isn’t run over.   Then I exclaim at the top of my lungs, “What is wrong with you kids? It is like you lost your brain cells.”  UGH!!!  I really should give classes. 

We make it to the bathroom and my nerves start to calm as I hear the tickle and say to may self that no one died from licking the wall in a public restroom.  Well, I guess we will find out in the morning.  So, what have we learned today, kids?  Never steer off course.  Stay focus.  And don’t gamble with a child who needs to go potty, RIGHT NOW!

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Right Time, Right Place

As I wander through the Valentine display at Target trying to find something that might jump out at me for hubby, an announcement was made.  An announcement so great that many stopped in their tracks.  I rarely pay attention to these announcements, because they are generally about morning huddles or some other Target nonsense, but today would be the day that I would listen and change our lives, FOREVER.  The announcement would pull me away from my mission and pull me toward the nexxus of the universe. I would  try to walk casual over to the counter, but I my insides were urging me to pick up the pace.  I met with the nice boy (when did they start letting 12 year olds work?) to ask him about the message I had just heard.  I asked him to be gentle as he took my hand and gave me the assistance I needed.  There was one last thing to do, call the husband and get his approval.  With excitement in his voice, he gave me the go ahead and I proceeded to the recieve the holy grail of retail items.

I quickly went through the checkout line, before anyone got wind of what I might have that could make a grown woman so giddy.  I carefully put it in the back of the Family Mobile and debated about whether I should take my precious cargo to the grocery store or go straight home.  I told myself I was being silly and went to the grocery store.  I couldn’t stop thinking that everyone knew what I had and was going to find a way to get it. 

I hurried Sammy along in the grocery store, throwing things in our basket, knowing that we would be unable to leave the house for several days.  The whole time I am wondering, did I lock the car, did I hide the valuable item well enough, will it still be there when I get back, how much is that ham, anyway?  I make small talk with the cashier wishing that she would just hurry so I could get home and get my prize possession secure.

As I make the long trek home, I purposely go the speed limit and pass up our weekly trip through the Wendy’s drive thru.  Sam would protest and I couldn’t give him the reason why.  He may not understand and his excitement might give it away to the vehicles that surrounded us at the stop light.  I worry if the cops might stop me only to make up charges so they could bring me in and confiscate the item and have it all to themselves.

I pull into the driveway only to panic at the sight of George, his employee and his employee’s girlfriend.  Would they know what I have?  Would they try to take it from me?  Would I have to fight to the death to bring our prized item home safely?  And why the hell are they blocking my garage, anyway?  I secretly get all my bags in with the prized one concealed among the bags of groceries.  Whew!!  I had gotten home safe and I didn’t have to give up my child or fight to the death to do it.  It is safe and sound, currently sitting comfortably ontop my countertop, waiting for us to talk nice to it and truly make it a memeber of the family:

Wii have joined the revolution.
Viva la Wii!

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This Message Brought to You by an On-going Sinus Infection

I have always been told that life is better if you are all sugar and sweet instead of piss and vinegar.  I am not really into the sweet, but I do it.   I make sure to say, ” Yes Ma’am” (even to people younger than me), “Please and thank you” and I even smile and say “Excuse me”, when I am clearly not at fault.  However, something crawled up the ass of everyone at the grocery store, today, and it pissed me off.  I kept on smiling and accomodating, because if not I would be writing this from the other side of a door made of big steel bars.   

Sam and I were doing our normal grocery shopping when we came across NOLA and Sun.  We met up with them a few times in the store, but NOLA had only a few items to get and I was on a mission to feed my hungry family of wolves on a budget.  I was down the cereal aisle when I heard a scream that I have heard many times before.  I knew it was Sun, but was reassured that her mother could take care of whatever her complaint was at that time.  I moved out of the way of an approaching Cryptkeeper when she muttered something about wishing parents knew how to control their unruly kids.  I was stunned, because my unruly kid was firmly planted in the front of the grocery cart and Sun was far away just crying her little eyes out.  I smiled at  Cryptkeeper and wondered what the hell her problem was.  I mean it must have been hard for something to crawl up that pinched little ass of her.

I never assume that little old ladies are mesmerized by my kids.  I understand the grumpy old lady, because I am fast approaching that era of my life.  I am still at the stage of ranting in the comfort of my own brain or to my husband, who finds these moments extremely funny.  I hope I can keep it contained when I am at the point of buying prune juice and coffee and just happy to be upright.  I don’t expect people to be falling over themselves to accomodate me and my kids, but I expect a little bit of societal politeness.  I just assumed that once you stepped outside your front door and make those crucial steps into society you knew you would have to deal with other people, including kids, and could contain your venom long enough for you to get back to your home.  I don’t believe this is much to ask.

This attitude didn’t stop with the Cryptkeeper, it must have been bring a Grumpass to the grocery store day. 

Trust me, it is hard for me to be out in the world everyday.  Hell, just at the grocery store I considered tearing the head off the bagger girl, because how the hell do you not know how to bag fucking groceries!  It is not rocket science, but I smiled, thanked her, wished her a good day and rearranged my food items in the bag the right way when I reached my car.  Of course, I haven’t been old, although my therapist has diagnosised me with mid-life crisis so maybe it is on it’s way, so I don’t know how hard it might get.  People who continue to think the world should conform to their wishes, should know that I reserve the right to walk pass you and mutter how old crappy women who smell like ass should stay home if they are going to ruin everyone’s day.  If you can’t be nice then, STAY THE HELL HOME.  We are all working real hard not to drive stakes into annoying people’s head and you should do the same.

I found out later that Sun had knocked her head on the grocery cart and that was the reason for her wailing.  I would venture to say that if that old woman cracked her head, because let’s say someone accidentally on purpose tripped her bony ass, she would be wailing, too.

I think the sinus infection has seeped into my brain and is making me more grumpy than usual.  Hopefully, I will be back to my joyful *cough* self, soon.

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