Sunday, December 31, 2006
2006- A year in review
1. What did you do in 2006 that you'd never done before?
I graduated from college.
2. Did you keep your new year's resolutions, and will you make more for next year? I call them goals, and yes, some of them I did keep. Others I failed miserably at. I've made more for this year.
Basically, I do daily and weekly goals so I don't always "get" the whole new year's thing. But I do like that Special K bars are on sale really cheap this time of year.
3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
4. Did anyone close to you die?
5. What countries did you visit?
I pretty much stayed close to home. I did go to Nashville, which was fun. Oh, and Eastern NC which is like a different planet. I don't know if that counts though.
6. What would you like to have in 2007 that you lacked in 2006?
A baby. But yeah, that's not going to happen.
7. What dates from 2006 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
December 16th was the day I graduated from college. The rest of the year is a huge blur.
8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
I know I sound like a broken record here, but graduating from college. Seeing an end result to my hard work. It was amazing.
9. What was your biggest failure?
I don't even know if I can define that. I fail in some way every day of my life. I suppose my biggest failure is the failure to love myself.
10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
Nothing new or different. Same old hormone, girl part, PCOS crap.
11. What was the best thing you bought?
I paid $100 to the animal shelter to adopt my puppy Ginger. That was the best money I've ever spent in my life.
12. Whose behavior merited celebration?
My husband's. He tackled his new job with such enthusiasm that he was promoted to management in a shockingly brief period of time. Financially we are in a better place than we ever have been because of this.
13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
Oh my goodness, darn near everyone, myself included. I really expect people to act right and when they don't, I am always shocked and depressed by it. It's a character flaw, I think.
14. Where did most of your money go?
Gosh, I guess our house. I don't know.
15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
My husband's new job. My Girl Scout troop.
16. What song will always remind you of 2006?
That Justin Timberlake song, "My Love". Because I found out my husband likes it TOO and I was so beyond thrilled. I thought Justin Timberlake liking would be grounds for divorce. But no!
17. Compared to this time last year, are you: a) happier or sadder?
I am immeasurably sadder. This has been one of the hardest years of my life emotionally. I've come to realize so many things that I absolutely cannot change and it's been a very, very painful journey for me.
b) thinner or fatter?
Honestly, I have no clue, but I'd say about the same. I haven't stepped on a scale since October.
c) richer or poorer?
18. What do you wish you'd done more of?
19. What do you wish you'd done less of?
Working. For the love of God.
20. How will you be spending Christmas?
I spent it with my husband and children (and puppy).
21. Did you fall in love in 2006?
I try to fall in love with him a little more every day. Or some crap. In reality, some days I could have smothered him in his sleep. But mostly the love thing.
22. How many one-night stands?
Who WROTE this? Maury Povich? None. Sheesh!
23. What was your favorite TV program?
The Office. Or the Biggest Loser. I can't decide so I declare that I get two favorites.
24. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year?
No. My hate for people is usually long-standing.
25. What was the best book you read?
I didn't read any books I considered fabulous. Most of the books I read were for school. I did enjoy "The Devil Wears Prada".
26. What was your greatest musical discovery?
Not a band or anything...my iPod. Sweet Lord. Give a cookie to whoever invented THAT.
27. What did you want and get?
I wanted to have a three year anniversary with my husband and I did on July 12th. My first marriage only lasted about 1 year so with every passing year I have a bit more confidence this one will stick.
28. What did you want and not get?
I really, really longed for a baby. I did not get said baby. Nor will I ever. Maybe for 2007 I will long for acceptance.
29. What was your favorite film of this year?
I know this will sound like I am SUCH A MOM but honest to God, I didn't see anything but cartoons in the theater this year. I adored "Over the Hedge".
30. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
I drove to North Carolina to visit my dad who is sick with bladder cancer. It was a really miserable day (eight hours in the car). I was thirty-one.
31. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
I don't know. I've sat here for five minutes trying to think of one thing that could have made it all better and there just isn't anything. Not one thing.
32. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2006?
Fat girl chic.
33. What kept you sane?
I wouldn't want to mislead anyone into believing I'm sane here.
34. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
Did this just say "fancy"? Good Lord. But, yeah. Harold Ford, Jr. To bad he didn't win.
35. What political issue stirred you the most?
I don't know. I don't get very stirred unless children were involved. I figure the adults can just beat the crap out of each other if they feel like. Leave the innocent people out of it.
Also, is adoption a political issue? Because that's what's got me most stirred these days in general.
36. Who did you miss?
I miss my sister Susie very, very much.
37. Who was the best new person you met?
I have three: Ivy, Sierra, and Kasey. They are the girls in my Girl Scout troop.
38. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2006.
You can't control how other people behave. You can only control how you respond to them.
39. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year.
Step one you say we need to talk
He walks you say sit down it's just a talk
He smiles politely back at you
You stare politely right on through
Some sort of window to your right
As he goes left and you stay right
Between the lines of fear and blame
And you begin to wonder why you came
Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend
Somewhere along in the bitterness
And I would have stayed up with you all night
Had I known how to save a life
"How to Save a Life"- The Fray
Saturday, December 30, 2006
Katie is four, she'll be five next month. She calls me Aunt Unicorn. The way she pronounces it is, "Aunt Uni-my-corn."
"Everyone at my house is sick except me," she told me confidentially.
"Is that right?" I asked her.
"Yes. But don't worry because my mom is only sick because she had a baby in her belly. And I'm going to help her with the baby. The only thing I won't like is to help her change the dirty diapers."
I said, "Um. Are you telling me your mom is having a baby?"
She looked alarmed and then said, "I'm not saying anything else!"
The proverbial cat, however, is about six miles out of that bag.
Thursday, December 28, 2006
Anyway. I've not put a lot of thought into this, honestly, and I might come up with some more, but here's a start.
1) I want to be a better wife.
I don't think I'm a bad wife, mind you. But I think I talk to much, I'm often distracted, and I don't necessarily behave as appropriately as a 31-year old woman should. I'm not out whipping my top off while I dance on the top of the bar or anything, but...okay. Last night? We went on our date and there were these kids there? And you all know I love kids, right? But these kids? Sweet GOD. The mother was drinking pretty heavily and paying absolutely no mind to the fact that the children were behaving much like a pack of wild banshees. The grandfather took them outside for a minute and the youngest, who appeared to be about six and really should have known better, ran out in front of a car. Nice. They came back in. The middle girl didn't want to put on her coat. It was freaking cold outside. She was about seven years old. She threw herself down on the floor of the restaurant and started having a tantrum.
Instead of doing anything appropriate, the mother took the two boys and went outside. She then stood there with the door held wide open. It was COLD. We were sitting BY THE DOOR. Meanwhile, the girl continued laying on the floor, having her tantrum.
I might have something (exactly) like, "Oh! Brilliant! Let's freeze and inconvenience everyone in the restaurant because we can't control our own children! I wish I had such good ideas!"
Well it worked anyway. The mother came back in and dragged the girl out.
But yeah. Probably not appropriate.
2) I want to work on my forgiveness skills.
I am really super awesome at holding grudges. I mean, I am so good that if there were some kind of grudge holding competition? I would totally be the winner. Also, I would likely win if the contest were about pop culture. But I digress.
3) Finish my novel
Did I mention I'm writing a novel? Yeah. I have over 12000 words right now.
Jason asked me last night what I was writing about.
I said, "I dunno. Me? I guess?"
He said, "That's good. You are very interesting."
(I love him)
I said, "Well, I just noticed there isn't a big market for women who were left by their ex-husband's while pregnant and are now battling infertility."
"It does seem like a unique niche," he mused.
Yeah. You think?
The worst part is that there is so much I just can't seem to remember. It's bizarre. I find myself having to look up normal things that any woman who has ever had a child should know. Like, um, what a baby is supposed to weigh and when you go to the doctor and have ultrasounds and all that. Because I had to go to the doctor four times a week and I had like, a billion ultrasounds. And I was crying the whole time and that makes it really freaking hard to remember stuff.
4) Stop working so many jobs
I don't mind to help out, honest I don't. However, I have way, way more work than I do hours in the day. It is literally impossible for me to keep up. I feel a lot of stress being so far behind all the time. I can't even do simple things like filing. I just don't have time.
Additionally? If I'm doing all the work of someone who was paid three times more than me? I should get a little increase in my coin.
5) Walk five hundred miles
I tried this one for 2006 and as you can imagine, failed pretty darn miserably. I think I'm somewhere around 200 miles as of today. Lame!
I really like walking. Honest. Especially outside and if it's a clear day. I don't even mind taking the puppy even though she often acts like we, you know, OWN THE FREAKING TRACK and tries to posture against everyone else walking there. But again, I digress.
That's all I have so far. I'm sure I need a lot more work in a lot more areas so I'll probably come up with some more.
Jason and I had a date last night, just the two of us (the children are visiting my parents in North Carolina).
We went to our favorite little Italian place. Really it's just a hole in the wall, but the guy who owns it makes everything from scratch and Sweet LORD that is some good Italian food!
I ate one bite of my Italian Sausage Parmesan and said, "I wish I was Italian."
Jason said, "Why?"
I said, "The women are pretty and they cook really well. Plus I would get to talk with my hands!"
Jason said, "You are pretty and you do cook well. And you talk with your hands ALL THE TIME."
So guess what? Despite my pale skin, green eyes, and red/brown hair, apparently I'm Italian!
While having dinner on Tuesday night
Me: "Do you think you have any half-brothers or sisters?"
Jason: "Excuse me?"
Me: "Well, you know. Before your dad was killed. Do you think he fathered any other children?"
Jason: "Um, I don't think so."
Me: "But you don't know for sure right? Maybe you have some brothers or sisters somewhere!"
Jason (in an uninterested tone): "Hm. Maybe."
Me: "If you did have brothers and sisters would you want to meet them?"
Me: "Well wouldn't it be cool? We could have them over for dinner! We could have cookouts! It would be great!"
Jason: "We're inviting non-existent people over to dinner now?"
Me: "I'm just sayin'!"
This morning at 6am
Me: "Hey! Guess what?"
Jason: "Zzzz- Oh. Good morning."
Me: "You know why they were taping those trash trucks by the side of the road the other day?"
Jason: "Excuse me?"
Me: "You know! You told me about those trash trucks and the camera crew?"
Jason, looking puzzled: "What?"
Me: "YOU KNOW! The trash trucks?"
Jason: "Oh. Yeah."
Me: "Well! They did this story on the news about how if you put your trash out by the road and there are boxes from expensive gifts, it will make you more likely to get robbed!"
Me: "Isn't that interesting?"
Jason: "Um. Didn't they already take our trash away?"
Jason: "Um. Okay. Have a good day."
Me: "You too!"
I love him. So freakin' much.
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
I got a ton-o-stuff this year. In addition to the plethora of Sweet Pea products detailed and depicted in an earlier post, I also received, from Jason:
-A waffle iron (seriously, my favorite gift)
-A pair of pajamas
-A nightgown (I really love sleeping)
-Season One of The Office on DVD (which, hilariously, I also purchased for him!)
-Season One of American Dad on DVD
-Tweezers (which he wrapped in about two yards of paper and snorted whilst I opened them)
-A really touching, beautiful card in which he wrote how happy he is that I'm his family and how he knows that the four of us will have many beautiful Christmas' together
-Totally 80's Trivial Pursuit (I opened that one and shrieked, "WOO! WOOOOOOO!" It was better than jewelry. I'm a total trivia nerd)
From my parents:
-A $75 gift card to Target. Which is really nice, but I actually asked for a gift card to Old Navy, as I am practically nude and need some new clothes. But whatever. Very nice anyway.
From older sister:
-The Pink Panther on DVD and a some popcorn and candy (for movie snacks)
From younger sister:
-More Bath and Body works stuff (not Sweet pea though. She gave me the ones to help you relax. She knows I'm a bit, um, high strung).
From my brother:
-Framed drawings that he had done of both of my children
From my 95 year old great-grandmother:
-A check for $10 (is that not the sweetest thing you've ever heard of?)
I really made out like a bandit this year.
How about you guys? Everyone, don't be shy! Tell me what you got!
Monday, December 25, 2006
Saturday, December 23, 2006
I'm up to 9000 words already.
I told Jason last night, "Guess what? I'm writing a novel!"
He raised one eyebrow at me.
So I said, "You know. I told you I was going to look for my next big thing? Well, this is it. Plus, it will keep me occupied so I won't think about graduate school."
His eyes brightened. "That's great babe! I'm sure it will be great!"
Clearly. He's my biggest fan ever.
Did I mention I simply adore him?
He's done Christmas shopping (which, I might add, I TOTALLY CALLED IT. I said December 22nd and he called me yesterday and said, "Guess what? I'm closing the office at 3pm! But I won't be home for a while." And I had to cover my eyes when he came in from the car.). Shockingly, he managed to wait until all gifts were wrapped before giving me one last night. Okay, technically the gift he gave me wasn't wrapped. It was an odd shape so he placed a cardbox box over top of it and placed it in front of the Christmas tree. The unwrapping was more of me just dramatically lifting a box rather than actually opening anything.
My gift was awesome though. A huge basket of Sweet pea products: body splash and shower gel and whatnot. The basket is really pretty too.
Jason said, "You can put two clean towels in that and it will be a great bread basket!"
I said, "Thank you, Mr. Metrosexual."
Additionally, he left the price tag on the front of the present. He said, "I did it on purpose so you would be proud of my good shopping! What a bargain!"
This morning he was getting ready for work and he said, "You know, I think we should adopt one of those unfortunate children from South Africa. Like you see on television? Through the Christian Children's fund?"
God help me, I howled in laughter.
He said, "Chick, these unfortunate children are nothing to laugh at."
I said, "DON'T CALL THEM UNFORTUNATE THEN! My ass is unfortunate! These children are poor! Just say they are less fortunate."
"That's what I said!" he insisted. "Unfortunate!"
Really, my ass is unfortunate.
A few months ago I fell down the front stairs off my big old porch. I have a beautiful front porch. The way the sun hits it is kind of funny though, and when it rains the steps don't dry immediately. We have to scrub them or they get a green slimy kind of substance on them. It's no big deal, but we don't always remember to go out there and clean them immediately.
Anyway, I fell down the steps and landed on our concrete slab and well, bruised my butt so badly I could barely walk for a few days. My entire bottom was purple. It was...okay, it was amazing. It was one of the gnarliest things I've ever done, but wow. It was amazing! I propped my butt up on the bathroom sink and took a photograph of it in the mirror (no crack was showing. Gah, I'm not THAT low class. Sheesh!) and sent it to a bunch of my friends so they marvel at the wonder of my entirely purple butt cheek.
Now, several months later, the bruise has gone away, but I have a HUGE DENT IN MY BUTT CHEEK. No, I'm not kidding. It's seriously concave. It's bizarre.
I'm thinking about falling down the stairs and trying to land on my stomach. That would rock.
Did I mention I adore Jason?
I just paused my writing to get a Diet Pepsi from the fridge and as I walked by the Christmas tree I paused and looked at the gifts he wrapped for me yesterday.
To: The one that I love!
From: The one that you love!
Seriously? He rocks.
I have a brand new, just opened copy of Disney's "Mickey's Once Upon a Christmas". The boy child has requested popcorn and the girl child just asked that we all sit together on the couch while we watch it.
My little family is comprised of the best people ever.
Friday, December 22, 2006
(Incidentally, I really wish the school would announce the fact that they are having an AWARDS CEREMONY sometime before, oh, I don't know THE DAY OF THE CEREMONY. I mean, fortunately I had taken the day off to clean the house because otherwise I would not have gotten to come. Ahem.)
I might have mentioned, or maybe not, that I'm a Girl Scout leader. (Don't laugh. Seriously. DON'T LAUGH.)
(Okay, go ahead and laugh. I know the notion of someone as messed up as me molding young minds is at the very least funny and possibly even scary. But I love it and they seem to love me, so it's a mutually beneficial situation.)
I have only a very small troop of girls. Four total, including my own daughter. Being a Girl Scout leader is literally one of the best things in my life. I genuinely care about these girls and sincerely want to see them succeed in their lives.
They all go to the same school. One of the little girls is in my son's class. (I hope he marries her someday, seriously. She's beautiful and wonderful and amazing and I would totally love to be her mother-in-law. Yes, I know he's eight. But seriously. I adore her.) I knew I would see them today and I was excited about it. I really care about these girls. I am honored to be allowed to be a part of their lives.
The note that was sent home from school (YESTERDAY) asked that the children wear their best clothes so everyone will know they are getting an award. My children love to get to dress up for school and were excited to get to wear "church clothes" today. My son wore a nice pair of navy blue cords and a tan, navy blue, and red striped sweater. My daughter wore an adorable plaid skirt, black tights, a white shirt with a black bow, and shiny black patent leather Mary Janes.
I always wanted a pair of Mary Janes when I was a little girl. I probably had them at some point, but I remember being my daughter's age and really wanting them and not having them. I have some now, as a 31 year old woman, and I have literally worn the soles off of them in a year's time because I have worn them every single day. I got my daughter's at either Wal-Mart or (more likely) Target. I think they cost $7.99. Maybe just slightly more than that, but I remember thinking they were a real bargain.
As the children lined up to receive their awards, I saw one of the girls in my troop. I waved vigorously at her and her face lit up in recognition. She grinned at me and waved back wildly.
As she came around the corner, I could see she was wearing a Christmas dress. It was red velvet. She's a beautiful girl with huge brown eyes and perfectly straight brown hair. She is a gorgeous, thoughtful, sweetheart of a child.
On her feet were a pair of white flip flops.
I felt defeated. I felt deflated. I remembered being a little girl and not having appropriate shoes for the season. I remember making due. I remember how she felt.
She reminded me so much of me as a child, I wanted to cry.
When they called her name, she looked down at the floor and didn't even smile. I stood up and clapped as loud for her as I could. She looked up and gave me a very small grin. Her mom wasn't there so I took a photo and I'll give her mom a copy (her mom is single and again, they only told us about the ceremony YESTERDAY which makes it very hard to get time off work, for Heaven's sake).
I want desperately to drive to Wal-Mart and buy her some Mary Janes.
I don't know.
I can't change my life. I can't change the things that have shaped me into the person that I am. I want to be a better person. I want to be a good mother. I want my children to grow up and be a better person than I am. But I want the same things for these little girls too. I want them to grow up and be whatever they want to be, whether it's the President of the United States or a chimney sweep.
I don't even know what I'm trying to say. I guess I just wish these little girls were all mine so I could tell them every day, like I tell my own daughter, that they are amazing and brilliant and beautiful and unique and special. That they can grow up and rule the world. That I care about them and want what's best for them.
I wanted to have someone do that for me.
Is it bad that I still do?
Thursday, December 21, 2006
I found her out where she works. The place she works has a website. The website lists it's employees and has a photo.
I then copied the link and sent it several of my girlfriends in an email asking them, "Is she prettier than me?"
I need to step away from the computer. I'm seriously not a stalker like this.
It's about 60 degrees here. Today as I dropped off my little children at the Elementary School, there was a little boy in the drop-off lane wearing shorts. Granted, he had on a sweatshirt and his mother looked like she was possibly smoking crack while driving, but still. It's not cold.
Ask Jason however and you would be lead to believe that we are living in some form of the artic. Polar bears are likely wandering through our yard! This morning I was sitting on the bed having a nice conversation with him while he brushed his teeth and realized I was sweating.
"Good Lord!" said I. "It must be 80 degrees in here!"
"Nu-uh!" he said, possibly a touch defensively. "It's only seventy-five."
Because that's a lot better, I guess.
Every day of our life goes something like this:
- Jason comes home from work.
- Jason immediately sheds all work clothes other than plain white undershirt, boxer shorts, and socks (which are black. Because he's bringing sexy back.)
- After asking what we are having for dinner, to which I will probably reply, "Chicken", Jason says some version of, "Oh my God! It's freezing in here!"
- I say some version of, "Actually, no. It's not freezing in here. It's 69 degrees."
- Jason makes some comment about my use of the word "sixty-nine". Because we're both really fourteen year old boys and think such things are funny.
- Jason turns up the heat.
- Jason goes to the bathroom.
- I turn down the heat.
- Several hours later, Jason realizes he's "cold" again and turns the heat back up.
- I say some version of, "Put some clothes on and you won't be so cold."
- Lather, rinse, repeat.
I swear, sometimes I think he is a really muscular, hairy woman.
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
He went to one store, which was Wal-Mart, and purchased some Milk-Bone dog biscuits for Ginger. He was very excited about this purchase and several times advised me that it was five-pound box for only, "Five dollars and forty-nine cents!"
He then wrapped it up and put it under the Christmas tree.
Last night, he couldn't wait and let the dog open her gift. No, I'm not kidding.
I don't think I'm getting anything for Christmas. I might have to shoot him.
Sunday, December 17, 2006
Or the story of my life? Maybe.
I dunno. I thought my story about graduation would be...something. I keep waiting to feel something that I just haven't felt. It was funny and hilarious to get a gown that was the size of a tent. It was NOT funny that I felt myself start to trip as I went up the stairs (everyone swears they didn't notice anything, but, woo...I was wishing I had taken Hortense's suggestion to "get me some duct tape"). But that was pretty much a non-issue.
I've been feeling like I should feel smarter, or better. Or relieved. Or just, you know, something.
But I haven't yet. Other than the joy of being at the ceremony and the joy of seeing my daughter in her butterfly boots and taking pictures of my son wearing my mortarboard? Well, nothing really. I woke up at 2am, as usual, in a panic wondering how I was going to get everything done. I don't have any school work to do anymore.
It feels...strange. I thought I would feel free and light and happy and carefree. But I feel kind of hollow today.
Hopefully it will pass. Hey, I graduated!
Thursday, December 14, 2006
This girl right here? Her name is Ginger. She is the best dog alive.
Yesterday was Ginger's birthday. She is one year old. We decided that we would have a party. With hats!
She was thrilled, as you can see.
After a while, she was totally in to it! She was rocking that hat!
I also decided that, since it was her birthday (and okay, that's being generous, I really give her a whole lot of what she wants...all the time), that she could have some cake! Woot!
Ginger says, "Mmm. Hello? What's this?"
(Note the boy child, holding her back so I could take the picture)
Here she is, eating her cake.
And...twenty seconds later...
The plate is completely clean.
She? Is a wonder dog. I didn't know it was possible to love an animal as much as I love that puppy.
To the moron who left this beautiful dog by the side of the road when she was a tiny little baby? Thank you for being an idiot. I paid $100 at the local animal shelter for her and she is worth a million dollars to me.
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
It has been extremely difficult for me to not, you know, step in and TAKE OVER HIS PROJECT. Because I’m maybe just slightly a control freak or something. I don’t know. I do know I looked at his project and thought, “OH MY FROG. THIS LOOKS LIKE AN 8 YEAR OLD DID IT.”
Which is okay. Cause, you know, he’s EIGHT.
Anyway, he’s been very diligent in working on it. He came up with the idea for his design completely on his own. He memorized the planets order from the sun. We went online and looked up their colors and interesting things about them. It’s been super. Some of the other parents in his class went out and bought this diorama “kit” they have at Wal-Mart. So his won’t be nearly that impressive. It won’t even be as impressive as say a Magic Mart project. Or even, a Dollar Tree kit. But whatever. It’s all about the hard work you put into it.
I’ve been trying to let him do the majority of the work himself. I want him to learn to be self-reliant and all that crap, even if his project turns out looking less than art show worthy.
And then, last night, we bought crazy glue.
See, his planets are made out of Play-Doh. (I hope that’s not a copyright infringement, if so, sorry). He calls it Clay-Dough. Which is hilarious. But anyway, we couldn’t figure out how to make them stick onto the shoe box which he had colored black and painted gold glitter stars onto. (Incidentally, I noticed as we were walking out the door this morning that the side of the box said “X-Appeal!” Sorry, third grade students. Didn’t mean to sexually harass you like that.) So I decided that Crazy Glue was the perfect solution! We picked some up last night.
Within about 20 seconds, all of my son’s fingers were glued together in one large lump. He was frantic. He ran to the bathroom and washed fervently, to no avail. Of course, you can get stuff like that off with nail polish remover, but do I have any of that? Of course not. While I’m often quite girly (Hello? The Elle Woods of the EPA here!) I don’t bother with my nails most of the time. I do so many things that require me to get my hands in the dirt, muck, mud, and then there is my son’s underwear to contend with…it’s just not worth it to me.
So he glued all the planets down. Awesome! Now we had to label them. He knew all the names, but I told him, “If you write them down, I’ll glue them on for you.”
He came to Venus.
“Mom,” he says, “Venus? The planet? That sounds like penis!”
“True dat,” I said.
“Mom! Did the person who NAMED Venus mean for it to sound like penis?”
“Not sure,” I replied.
“Well,” he said, “whoever it was that named it? They were pretty sick!”
“Check this out,” I said, helpfully. “Do you know what Uranus means?”
He laughed hysterically and then said, “Um, no.”
I said, “Uranus? Your anus?”
He laughed hysterically and then said, “I don’t get it.”
I said, “Your anus? That’s your BUTTHOLE.”
Hysterical laughter. My son has a very contagious laugh. When he starts laughing I cannot STOP laughing.
He said, “All the people who named the planets? They are totally sick!”
While gluing on Uranus, I totally got glue all over my fingers. I have three white fingers today. I’m hoping no one notices.
This morning as we got in the car to go to school, my son said, “My teacher is going to be all like, ‘I totally love this! This is the best project ever!’”
I said, “I hope so, honey. I really hope so.”
Really. Last night was one of the best nights ever.
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Yeah. That's my life right now.
Seriously, I appreciate people having such high expectations of me. It's very flattering.
It's also really freakin' scary.
Monday, December 11, 2006
Then, you went the hell away. And stayed gone for almost 14 years.
In May, you came back and into my dad's body. You took the light out of my dad's eyes. My sweet little dad who is only 57 years old. You've made him an old man before his time. You've made me cry more times than I count, for this man, my dad. You've made him walk all hunched over and have headaches that last 30 hours. You've taken away my entire Senior year of college and all the special times I should have been able to share with my dad.
And it's not fair.
My parents, both of them, have taken care of their bodies. They've done the right things. They've not been overweight. They've not smoked cigarettes or done drugs or even drank alcohol. They exercise every day. They've done the right things.
And still, you've come.
Today, my mom called me and said you might be back. She has to visit the oncologist tomorrow. She's not feeling well. She sounds scared on the phone.
I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. There are not even words for how much I hate you.
Sunday, December 10, 2006
On Wednesday they had the "special" two-hour Biggest Loser. The first part was dedicated to young people. Last season's winner Matt, who is now a motivational speaker, along with Bob the Trainer went to a high school to help some kids there. The other trainer, the girl one, I can never remember her name. Kim? Let's call her Kim. She went to her hometown high school. They each had five kids and they were going to help them. Because the average school lunch is like, 1000 calories or some crap.
Well, NO. Because they asked the girls, "Why do you want to lose weight?" and they were all like, "I want to get a boyfriend! I don't have a boyfriend now and it might be because I'm heavy."
Okay, so I kept waiting for Kim to be all like, "Well listen here sissy! If a boy doesn't like YOU for YOU then you don't need his sorry butt anyway!"
But did she do that? Oh, of course not! Little Miss Six pack was all, "Yay! Let's do some cardio!"
I mean, I love that we all want to get out the message to exercise. Yay, exercise! Exercise= goodness.
HOWEVER, why in the crap are we allowing the stereotype to be perpetuated that YOU HAVE TO BE THIN AND SKINNY TO GET A BOYFRIEND. Moreover, why are we implying that ANY BOY WHO DOESN'T LOVE YOU IF YOU ARE "CHUNKY" (and I'm sorry, when did size 10 become chunky?) IS WORTH HAVING? Because, THEY ARE NOT.
I would like to tattoo this message on my daughter's forehead.
I know high school is a hard time. But for God's sake, I wish these girls would understand that there are so many good and decent men out there that don't expect women to look a certain way. And the ones that do? Who needs them? Seriously!
My sweet little sister was telling me recently about one of her friends who has a jerk-off for a husband. The girl had gained some weight and the husband was really being a huge idiot to her about it. I said, "Before I met Jason, I had no shortage of men who wanted to date me! And I'm no one's idea of a dreamgirl!" (To which she replied, "You're my dreamgirl!" Because, you know, she's the funniest person alive. As I've mentioned) I just wish all these women could understand that.
I guess you have to be happy with yourself first. Or nothing else works. I don't know. I wish I could figure it out.
Saturday, December 09, 2006
Funniest. Person. Alive.
Who else would send me a card addressed to: Sista-boo. With a sticker on the outside that says, "Hot" (and underneath she wrote, "You know that's right").
If she had a blog you would read it and laugh and laugh and laugh. Then you would laugh some more.
Friday, December 08, 2006
Yesterday, I went to pick them up. I provided my drivers license, as I suppose they've had a huge run on people pretending they are graduating and picking up caps and gowns under false pretenses. I'm not sure, but whatever. They asked me my height and I told them I am five feet, ten inches tall.
The woman working in that office began to rummage through the numerous cartons of caps and gowns, looking for one for me. Meanwhile, a fellow came in and the other lady at the desk collected his drivers license and asked his height. Which was five feet eleven inches.
The second lady (we'll just call her...Phyllis) immediately handed the fellow his cap and gown.
The first lady (whom we shall refer to as...Hortense) was still looking for my size. Or height. Or whatever.
After approximately three minutes of rummaging through boxes, Hortense brings me a cap and gown and says, "Here you go. We don't have any for your height. This is for someone six foot one through six foot three."
"But..." I stammered, "That guy? Who was just in here? He was five foot eleven."
"Yes," Hortense replied.
"And he got a cap and gown for someone five foot eleven! Can't I have one for someone five foot eleven?"
Hortense looked at me in such a way that I was certain I had a booger on my nose.
"He got the last one," she replied in a manner which implied that really, as an almost college graduate, I should really know better.
"But I was here BEFORE HIM," I explained, helpfully.
She looked at me for a moment. Then blinked.
She then said, "Well, get you some duct tape. If it's to long you can just tape it up. No one will ever know!"
No, I'm not kidding.
Thursday, December 07, 2006
Some might say, I'm a teensy bit obsessive about it. (Others might say that I'm a psychotic freak about it, but they need to just shut up.)
For the past ten years or so, I've went from one project to another. Some of the projects are ongoing. For example, those twins I popped out almost nine years ago. That one is going to last a little longer. Others, have an end in sight. The major one, of course, being school. I am graduating in nine days. NINE DAYS!!!! Ahem. Anyway, obviously this has been a huge part of my life for the past four years and I'm not quite sure what I'm going to do with myself once I don't have all this homework and assorted other crap that I have to do.
I mentioned graduate school to Jason and he turned a very unattractive shade of green and told me I wasn't allowed to even think about that for at least a year. Normally he doesn't tell me what to do but I think he has a pretty good point this time so I'll listen. It might be nice and charitable of me to give him the wife experience that doesn't include me weeping and/or gnashing my teeth most of the time. I'm generous like that.
Here are some other ideas I've been kicking around.
1) Auditioning for the NBC gameshow Deal or No Deal.
I said to Jason, "It seems like they only pick really loud, insane crazy people to be on that show."
He said, "You're totally in!"
Coming from someone as generally appropriate as him? That is darn funny.
2) Some kind of excessive cardio.
I totally love going to the gym. I really do.
Okay, that was a huge lie. I hate it. I hate it more than I hate eggs and that's a lot. But I used go quite regularly and I really liked how it made me look and feel. I've given myself a two month break so I could get through all the Senior crap that I had to do. I also gave myself permission to not feel bad about it, so I haven't. It's been awesome.
But seriously, that's one of those things that I'm getting back into. For sure. Promise.
3) Finishing my novel.
I like to write books and then not show them to anyone. My most recent book was, "Why men who carry tote bags scare me." Pulitzer Prize, here I come!
I also wrote a book in 2004 called, "100 Reasons I suck as a mom." Jason read it and said, very cautiously, "This IS supposed to be funny, right?" Thanks for not calling Child Protective Service hon!
4) Take up soap opera writing.
I could totally do it. Seriously. I've had so much drama in the last ten years, I could just write about my life. There would have to be more sex though. I'm less of a whore-bag than the average soap opera star.
5) Work on my forgiveness skills.
I probably need to do this one anyway. I can hold a grudge like nobody's business. One person in particular in my life (not really IN my life...I haven't seen her in a couple of years) really needs my forgiveness. Or to burn in hell. Or whatever.
So...what do you think? Any of these ideas float your boat? Do you have any other suggestions for what to do with these gobs of free time I'm going to have? Do tell!
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
I drove to the South side of town and picked up my kids.
I drove back out West and paid off my couch. Thrilling! (As a side note, why is it that whenever you pay off something large like a couch, the person taking your payment says, "Now you can buy something else!" Um. No. If I wanted to buy something else in your store, I would have already done so. Why also is it that when you want to buy something like, a couch which costs less than $1000 do they approve you at ZERO PERCENT INTEREST! for $12000? That's clever marketing right there. Also, just because I'm a girl doesn't mean I'm always looking for the next thing to buy. Sexist much, oh saleswoman at Haverty's?)
I then went to the market and took my sweet time looking at chicken breasts. Because my life is just that exciting.
I finally got home around 6:30pm and felt like I had been running around for years. I pulled down my street and noticed that Jason's car was in the driveway.
Now, before you ask, yes, this is unusual. Jason is the manager of a finance company and his job is very demanding on his time and taxing on his brain (and patience) so it is unusual that he's home before 7pm on a normal day. On Tuesdays and Thursdays I don't expect him before 8:30pm because he works "late" on those days.
Well, he's home because he is sick. He is clutching his ear in pain and...okay, I'm admitting it...crying.
I've not really said a lot about Jason's physical appearance, but he is a big, muscular burly bald man with a tattoo. Not exactly the type you would think of a a crier.
He has went to the CVS and purchased some homeopathic eardrops, which are doing nothing to alleviate his pain.
So, at some point we make the decision to go to the emergency room.
Now, we do live in a major city and there are probably six or seven hospitals in our town. However, I am stunned that Jason and I have gotten to the ages of 30 and 31 and do not know basic things such as "Which hospital is closest to our house?" I mean, because seriously? We haven't been to the hospital since we've lived here. I don't think I've went to the hospital since...the year 2000. And you know, thank God for that and all, but it doesn't help when your husband is crying in pain and needs to go to the emergency room.
I had a flash of brilliance and remembered a hospital that I had once seen. Jason said, "Isn't there a hospital on Broadway?" (AKA: 15 minutes closer to our house) Well, I had never seen one there, therefore, clearly, there was not one.
Why we didn't think to, you know, pick up the phone book and look at the street addresses, I will never know. Neither one of us were adults last night.
So we get to the emergency room. I'm not familiar with emergency rooms, but I imagine that most scenarios are the same. Some notable items:
1) Apparently every trip to the emergency room requires a large entourage. Approximately 4-6 people seems to be the norm. You need at least 2 people to complain about the cost/quality of snacks in the vending machines and one or two to complain to the nurse about how they need to "see you". As in shouting to the nurse every time her head pops over the divider, "WHAT'S GOING ON WITH BILLY ROOP? WE'VE BEEN WAITIN' TWO HOURS!" Because shouting makes the whole process go much, much faster. The other people? They are just there because nothing was good on t.v.
2) In order to wait in the emergency room, you must have a loud and annoying cell phone ring tone. Similarly, you must call everyone you have ever known, ever, including your third grade teacher (who might also be your cousin, I'm not sure) to let them know that you had to take whomever to the emergency room. You have to tell them all, "Call me back here in a minute" so that everyone in the emergency room can hear your ring tone and/or you can appear very important. One man who appeared to be about 60 years old, wearing camo pants and a John Deere hat had a ringtone that was Beyonce singing something about, "You know you want to get it, I'll just let you hit it." No, I'm not kidding.
3) The emergency room doctor? She's not your friend. She doesn't like you. She's not interested in what you have to say, at all. This was surprising to Jason, but not so much to me. But I hate most people, so I totally see where she is coming from.
4) Emergency room waiting rooms are breeding grounds for pervs. An old man with six teeth was LOOKING at my daughter and said, "Is that your girl? She's purty. I'd like to get me one of them." Ewwwwwwah. I said, "Um, well, you can't have mine!" and clutched her a bit more tightly.
Finally, we are done. It only took two hours, which is probably some kind of record. We drove home a different way (because there are 30 ways to get everywhere) and about 3 miles from our house...is a big hospital. Um. Whoopsie.
So we go to the drive-thru of the Walgreens and I send in everything through the tube. A car pulls up in the lane next to us. This car has not been tuned since approximately 1971 and is making so much noise that I can't hear anything. The salesgirl apparently felt that this was somehow my fault and decided to be as rude to me as possible. Jason was not helping.
Salesgirl: "I can't hear you!"
Me: "I'm sorry, but the car next to me is very loud."
Salesgirl: "Do what now?"
No, I'm not kidding, she seriously said, "Do what now?"
Me: "I SAID HE'S NEVER HAD A PRESCRIPTION FILLED HERE."
Salesgirl: "Do what?"
Jason: "Tell her that you have though!"
Me: "They do not CARE that I've had prescriptions filled here Jason!"
Salesgirl: "I CAN'T HEAR YOU!"
Something inside of me snapped. I turned and gave the salesgirl a look that said, basically, "DON'T MAKE ME BEAT YOU LIKE YOU OWE ME CHILD SUPPORT."
It worked on the guy next to us in the loud car too. He shut his engine off.
The prescriptions weren't ready until 10pm. And thank God for insurance and all because what would have cost us several hundred dollars was only $30.
Get well soon Jason. I can't take another illness. It might kill me.
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
I got tagged by CPA MOM who says she actually reads my blog (for God knows what reason) and, you know, actually reads it! Random!
I will say, upfront, that originally I thought, "Man, there are so many weird things about me that I could fill like, ten days worth of blogs." But alas, it has not been that easy to think these things up.
And so, it begins.
1) I have a serious aversion to eggs.
The thought of eggs? Seriously? Makes me want to gag. My children adore scrambled eggs and I will stand over the stove, pinching my nose as I cook them. I will also say things like, "You better believe I love you! I make EGGS for you!"
2) Similarly, I have the same type of aversion to lunchmeat. And leftovers.
I can't eat a sandwich. Well, I'll eat a hot sandwich, but the bread has to be toasted. I have a weird aversion to that too.
I wonder why I'm so fat? Oh yeah. I don't have an aversion to chocolate. Wish I could develop that.
3) I have a lot of fear of cutting my hair.
Not in the I'm-Sampson-and-I'll-lose-my-power kind of way either. I thought briefly the other day about getting a new hairstyle next year and quickly put the thought out of my mind. It was just plain scary. I don't know why. I think I need therapy to figure that out. Well, okay, I need therapy for a lot of reasons.
4) I obsessively check license plates to see if they are expired.
My dad does this too and it makes my mother insane in the membrane. I cannot tell you how many times she has complained about this to me. She has no idea I do it too. It's our secret shame dad!
The state in which I live has about 500 billion license plate designs to pick from, but the main one (aka: the one you don't have to pay extra for) completely changed this year. So if someone has the old design, either they expire in December or they are riding on an expired tag. I like to point this out to anyone who happens to be in the car with me and will listen. If I'm alone, I chuckle to myself.
Bonus: When I lived in North Carolina I was the same way about state inspection stickers. We don't inspect our cars here. If you can get it into the street, it's good enough for us! Woo!
5) Sometimes, I forget I'm a mom.
Not like I'd forget them in the backseat of a Buick or something. But just sometimes I'm going about my day to day things that don't involve them...like driving to work? And suddenly I'll be hit with this HUGE realization...HOLY CRAP, I'M SOMEONE'S MOTHER! I mean, it's just frightening. Me? This messed up person? I get to have these small people hanging around? What? Who thought THAT would be a good idea? Have you HEARD how many "bad words" I say in a day? Sweet God!
But then I love them. So I guess it makes up for all the other crap I put them through.
6) I have to make myself go to the store.
I understand that people I live with have to eat. Therefore, I force myself to go to the grocery store. Sometimes, when I get there, if there are to many cars in the parking lot I have to leave. Crowds scare the crap out of me. I've had panic attacks about going to my own graduation in ELEVEN FREAKING DAYS(!!!) because there will be a lot of people there and I don't know where I am going to have to park.
It's really unfortunate too. I'm a great shopper.
So, there you have it.
And now I have to tag people. Honestly? I don't know if that many people even like me. I'll tag them and they'll be all like, "Who the crap is this chick?"
But, keeping in the spirit of things, I tag the following:
And I was going to tag SJ but she's totally already taken.
I was tagged kind of late in the game. So forgive me for having not quite the circle of friends that the cellular phone companies would lead me to believe that I need.
Monday, December 04, 2006
Okay, really, he was counting presents.
I guess this is something I did as a child. Honestly, I don't remember much about my childhood. I have a bit of a mental block. But I imagine since I was one of four children and money was, well, we'll say tight, I was in to making sure I got my fair share. Maybe I was all above that or whatever, but I kind of doubt it.
Anyway, at one point he said, in a very depressed way, "Mom! Why are there no presents for you?"
To which I replied, "I've been bad this year."
The real answer is, "Because my husband is responsible for such things. Therefore, it is not even remotely conceivable that they could be done, today, December 3rd. Talk me to on December 22nd. We'll see how things are going then."
That's quite a speech for me to give an 8 year old though. I'll just stick with letting him think I'm bad.
I don't particularly enjoy shopping, but I'm quite good at it. I, for the most part, give very good presents. Even when I've been particularly poor, I've made sure that people get things that make them happy in their hearts.
I do all the shopping except for myself. I just cannot bring myself to purchase gifts and wrap them and put my own name on them. Although, frankly, it would be a heck of a lot easier.
My beloved is not the best gift giver. He's an amazing shopper, primarily because he's such a freaking girl. I've never in my life met a man who tries on the SAME PAIR OF PANTS in four different colors and stands there looking in the mirror for 35 minutes going, "Well how do they look if I lean forward like this?" Okay, because seriously? In what situation, work or casual, would you ever be required to lean in such a manner? I would seriously like to know. Shopping with him is like a slow death. Most women would probably be really happy if their husband said, "Let's go to the outlet malls!" I have to take my medication. Because after about 20 minutes, I want to shoot him. And I really love him and I'm sure shooting him is against the law in this state.
I have also given him an extremely detailed list of gifts that I would like to receive. I also have a long list on Amazon.com which I have referred him to. I don't know how much easier I can make this.
I'm seriously just hoping to not have a repeat of the year that he gave me windshield wiper blades for my birthday (October) and then hubcaps for Christmas. When I said I wanted something sparkly, that's not what I meant.
It's all about being specific.
We'll see how he does.
Sunday, December 03, 2006
Saturday, December 02, 2006
It was also the lowlight. Or whatever.
I love babies. I love my dear friend/boss for whom the shower was being held. I loved seeing all the wonderful gifts she got and yes, every single time she held up footie pajamas or little plastic bowls or bibs or whatever, I went, "Awwwwwwww!" right along with all the other women in the room.
But baby showers, like everything else related to babies, make my heart hurt. They make my heart physically ache.
Because I want a baby more than anything. More. Than. Anything.
I know, I know. I have two beautiful children. I'm lucky. I'm selfish. Blah, blah, blah. I know all the mean, ugly things that anyone could possibly say to me when I dare to feel sad for myself.
Because, honestly? I feel cheated.
Ever since I was a small child, I wanted nothing more than to be a mother. You know how your teacher asks you what you want to be when you grow up and you say, "A nurse!" or "A teacher!" or "A super secret agent man!" or whatever? I would always say, "A mother." Because that's what I wanted to be. That's all I could ever imagine I could be.
As I got older, I realized I wanted a family. I wanted people who would be my people. People who I could come home to. People who would love me unconditionally and not judge me.
So I, being smart and all, married someone who DIDN'T love me. And then got pregnant so I would have someone to love me. Because I'm a genuis.
I don't want to tell the whole story. It's long and tiresome. The upshot was, I had preemie twins. By that time, the husband was long gone.
I dreamed that I would find someone who would love me and love my children and want to have a child with me so I could...be normal. I wanted to be normal. I would go to the doctor's office when I was pregnant with my twins and there would be all these women in the doctor's office with their husbands. The husbands would sit and hold their wives hands or rub their bellies or carry their purses. I had no one.
I went into the hospital right before I had my children and there was another girl who was admitted at the same time as me. She and I were talking a little and I told her I was expecting twins. Her husband showed up. Then her parents. Then her sister and brother-in-law. Finally her inlaws. She had seven people standing around her. We were separated by a curtain. I heard her say, "That girl in there, she's expecting twins." All of her relatives said the usual things like, "Oh wow! Twins!" She then said, "She's all alone."
I was so ashamed. Good Lord. I was so ashamed. I was so completely, utterly, painfully alone.
I swore to myself, much like Scarlett O'Hara or some crap (I am Southern after all), "As God as my witness, I will be normal someday!"
I turned 31 in October.
I don't have a baby.
I'm never going to have a baby.
I'm never going to be normal.
Friday, December 01, 2006
Recently I was at one of my friend's houses for a "home party". You know what I mean. You go to the house of a friend or friend of a friend or someone who wants to make money and someone shows up to sell salad bowls that burp or candles or pizza stones. And you feel like you have to buy something or you look really cheap? You know?
Actually, the party I went to was for Once Upon a Family and I quite willingly spent A Lot Of Money. But I digress.
I went upstairs where a small group of children, including my own, were playing. There was a small boy and girl who looked to be about 4 or 5. I didn't know them.
"Hi!" I said. "I'm That Chick Over There! Who are you?"
The adorable beautiful cherub of a little girl said, "Hi! I'm Eva! This is my brother Nelson and we are twins! We are both five!"
I said, "EVA!"
Then I launched into my own version of the song Viva Las Vegas. Except, I sang, you know, EVA Las Vegas. Because I secretly want to be Weird Al. I'm already white and nerdy and we have the same hair, so I'm like 3/4 of the way there.
If I had burst into song in front of a group of adults they would have all looked at me with a starey-face and then, possibly, politely laughed.
Eva, Nelson and all the other children began to dance around the room and sing along with me.
That is only one of the many, many reasons I love children more than grown-up's.
Now, I'll talk about the weather.
Cause I'm all old now and don't old people like to talk about the weather?
I'd really like to know WHAT is UP with the weather. Because this morning? When I woke up? It was seventy degrees. No kidding. It was balmy! Someone who lives down the street was hanging Christmas lights (yes, at 7am and no, I have no idea why) and wearing SHORTS while performing this activity. It's DECEMBER.
Anyhoo, in an hour it was down to around 40 degrees. I think it's even colder now.
It's probably the sign of the world ending or some crap. I have no idea. I don't care as long as I get to graduate before our Lord and Savior shows back up. As exciting as the notion of eternal joy and delight is, I would be hella pissed if I did all this work and didn't get to graduate.
Also, on an semi-related note, why are all weathermen named Chip Waters or Skip Weathers or something like that? If I have another baby I'm going to name her Rainy Stormwaters. She'd totally have job security, and I'm all about that. Girl Power!
My boss is getting her baby from China!
I am delighted and horrified at the same time.
Delighted because she is one of the most freaking fantastic people currently breathing. Pleased because she's forty-five and has wanted a baby for probably twenty-five years. Estatic because she has been going through the adoption process for two years now. Genuinely thrilled for her because she is dear to me and I love her.
Horrifed because she's going to leave the country in two weeks and then take three months off to be with her baby. And I'll have to take over her job.
I keep telling myself that I can totally fake it. Seriously. If someone asks me something I don't know, I'll be all like, "Good question!" and then not answer. I'm a government subcontractor! People expect me to skirt the issue, right?
It'll be super.
It's beginning to look a lot like...rampant consumption.
Black Friday came and went without so much as a thought from me.
Okay, that's not totally true. I got my newspaper out of the box on Thursday and looked at all the flyers from the different stores to see if anything was such a super-amazing-oh-sweet-lord kind of deal that I would be willing to get up out of my nice warm bed.
Nothing even remotely seemed worthwhile. And I'm the kind of girl who loves a good deal.
I like Christmas, I really, really do. I don't necessarily like shopping, but I do like to give gifts to people that I love and care about. I like setting up my Christmas tree and decorating my little house. I like wrapping up presents and seeing my little son and my little daughter's eyes light up when they see presents under the tree with their names on them. I like to make goodies, I like to buy gifts for those "kids we don't know" as my children call them.
I do not like people fighting in the Best Buy over a $600 video game. I don't like people selling plasma for a Tickle Me Elmo. I don't like people wondering what they are going to do next year to top this year.
It makes me sad.
I'll be making a Birthday cake for Jesus, as usual this year. I think he should get the props he deserves, and that's my little contribution. Yay Jesus! Yay cake!