Friday, March 31, 2006
pre-softball
At five o'clock I pulled up to the concession stand in between the four baseball fields to pick up Amanda and Emilee's softball uniforms. The place is consumed with a sort of chaos that can only be matched by the day that all of the Girl Scout cookies arrive and need to be sorted by troop and then by girl.
*shudder*
I thanked my lucky stars that I didn't have to do anything more than grab my girls uniforms and leave. Standing next to a stack of about thirty giant cardboard boxes labeled with various team names, I watched the short redhead that is the coach's wife scurry around madly trying to move this here and that there.
She walked over to another woman and got five square boxes from her and then carried them over to a shelf and set three down, bringing me the other two. The organizational freak in me got very excited at this cute little cardboard box that seemed to have a presorted and complete uniform in it.
Until she handed the two boxes to me and they were curiously heavy for clothing. I looked down and read Premium Chocolate Bars.
"Uhhh, we didn't order any chocolate bars."
"Oh, I know. Each girl is to sell one box."
That can't be too bad. The box wasn't really that big.
"Oh, ok... how many are in each box?"
"Fifty."
Fifty plus fifty is one hundred.
One hundred chocolate bars.
I laughed and said, "I should just write you a check for a hundred bucks and stick both boxes in my freezer."
She did not look amused.
When I put the two boxes of chocolate into my trunk, after promising to take them out immediately so they wouldn't melt (it's eighty degrees here), she climbed into the bed of her pick up truck and handed me two bags. Each was labeled with my daughters names and number on their jersey.
Amanda is eleven and Emilee is two. Which I though was kind of cool since when you add the ones in eleven together you get two.
Don't feel bad, everyone else thought I was nuts too.
Then again, everyone else didn't suffer through the insanity of living with my mom. Who adds all numbers together all the time until they match up in some way that she deems cool enough to tell us about.
Mrs. Coach's Wife then proceeded to run over the entire schedule for Saturday, which is long and sucks in case you were wondering, before waving goodbye and running off to help some absolutely adorable and most likely underage dude.
So, I get in the car and the girls start pulling out the different peices of their new uniforms. They loved the hats and questioned whether the shirts would be too big and then Emilee pulled out a pair of pants and held them up. I asked her if they were too big and she said she didn't know. So, I asked her to check the tag and see what size they were and Amanda said, "they're size tacky, that's what size they are."
Thursday, March 30, 2006
nanny nanny boo boo
I am playing hooky today.
No work, just staying home and listening to the lovely sounds of nothing... and The Killers and my sixth Italian lesson.
My daughters will be in school and daycare and I will be home. Alone.
Hate me, don't ya?
Yeah, I see you Jiffinner and you are so totally giving me the evil eye. Just remember that I bought the kick ass brownies yesterday.
Yeah, I thought so.
Anyway, the real reason I am staying home is because I have a lot of stuff to do (I typed "stiff" the first time and trust me, I don't have any "stiff" to do. If I did, I so wouldn't be on here blogging). I have needed to run into San Antonio for about five days now and haven't been able to schedule it in with work and my daughters increasingly crazy schedules. So, I am going to do some housework and then take a shower sans kids running in and out asking me questions and/or tattletaling on their sisters and then I am off to San Antonio. I am not telling you why because I don't want to jinx it!
In the meantime, I have to blog a couple of things that the girls have done that cracked me up this week.
The first: Amanda stayed home from school on Tuesday morning because she had a stomach ache. Ruthie had to pick Emilee up at eleven so I just told her to take Amanda in at eleven since I knew she would be fine by then.
Amanda gets bored pretty easily though and she continuously called me through out the morning to ask me things. The nine hundredth call went like this:
ring ring ring
me: Yes, Amanda?
Amanda: Mommy, I can't watch TV.
me: Why not Amanda?
Amanda: Because you are recording something. Why are you guys always recording eeeerrr?
me: Recording what?
Amanda: Errrrr, eeeerrrr Mommy. Why are you guys always recording eeerrrrr? You record it like three times every day.
For those of you as slow as I am, she was asking why we are always recording ER.
Yesterday morning, I woke up and heard Trin crying in the other room. It was about 4:30 and I knew she had probably had a bad dream. I got up and came into her room and asked her if she was ok. She was still crying so I picked her up and asked her if she wanted to go get in bed with Mamma. She shook her head yes so I carried her into my room. I asked her if she had a bad dream and she again shook her head yes. I got into bed with her and snuggled up and then asked her what had happened in her bad dream and she said "Amanda threw off my groove."
For those of you without children, she is referring to The Emperors New Groove.
[Kuzko collides with an old man while dancing] Kuzco: Aargh. You threw off my groove! Guard: I'm sorry, but you've thrown off the Emperor's groove.
[the old man is thrown out of the palace window]
Old Man: Sorry.
Ok, now I am off to clean. Have a fun day at work bloggers!
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
Acrophobic Humpday: The New Name Edition
Ok, well thanks to those of you who posted last week. Each and every one of you who posted a song got fifty points. This put Jiffinner on the scoreboard finally.
This is going to be a short post people, I have daughters with homework and a messy house. This week is going to be a little harder than usual so get ready.
First of all, we need a new name for Acrophobia! Email me or post your name idea. I have had a few of you send me some already and they have been great. But I want to put it to a vote, so we need MORE submissions!
Ok, this week we are stepping it up a little.
When you leave your letters this week, you preface them.
What the hell is she talking about?
Ok, I will leave the first 'theme' and set of letters and the person who does those letters leaves the prefaced theme and the next set of letters.
person 1. I hate always HTEM
person 2. I hate always Having To Eat Mushrooms.
I never have enough TFRM
person 3. I never have enough Time For Running Marathons.
You smell like HBVR
OK, got it?
Don't know what Acrophobia is? Well, click that button and find out.
Then you can play with us.
You know you want to. Everyone's doing it.
Monday, March 27, 2006
Stoned...
A few weeks ago (I can't remember if I blogged it or not), I started having these pains in my sides. Kind of like when you used to run around the gym a million times in middle school and you would get a stitch and the stupid fucktard of a gym teacher would say you shouldn't have stopped to drink some water and that you weren't breathing right. How many times do they expect you to run around the goddamn gym with out anything to drink? Like you were just supposed to be in this excellent fucking shape at thirteen years old and running around the gym for nofuckinggoodreason should be fun...
Ehhhh, anyway...
I started having these pains in my side. I had NO idea what they were and when I told The Cake Lady about them, she said that it sounded like a kidney stone. Apparently The Cake Lady had a bunch of kidney stones growing up, which made her, by default, The Kidney Stone Specialist in our building.
What baffled me though is that I felt immune to kidney stones because I drink such an insane amount of water. In my uneducated opinion, I always felt like the ten to twenty biiiig glasses of water I ingest every day kept my system so flushed out that something like a kidney stone couldn't happen to me. Apparently, I was wrong.
The pain sucked but wasn't unbearable, so I went home that Friday and got comfy on the couch and dubbed myself useless for the remainder of that weekend and by Monday, I was painfree. No major incident of passing the stone which is supposed to be like this god awful experience. The pain just went away. And since I am not fond of pain and The Cake Lady actually compared it to childbirth, I didn't question it.
Then, yesterday, my sister came in and told me that she was having pain in her side. I looked around the room and saw that between the two if us I was The Kidney Stone Specialist in the house.
me: You know, I was having pain a few weeks ago that was like that and TCL said that it sounded like a kidney stone. How much water have you been drinking?
Why would I ask her that? I mean, I am the Water Drinking Queen and I still got The Kidney Stone pain.
She thought about this for a moment.
Ruthie: I have been drinking a lot of soda since I started working at [new job]...
me: Well there you go.
Again, why? Why would I let her think that was why?
It's a very good thing I am not a doctor. I would all be talking to the cancer stricken patient...
me: You are very sick, this cancer is not curable.
patient: Oh no doctor, do you mean I am going to die?
me: I'm afraid so.... you know, you should have drank more water.
When Ruthie came home last night, I asked her how she was feeling and she said better. She said one of the chics she works with has parents that are doctors and that she hooked Ruthie up with some decent pain killers.
Oh, and she said she had cut out the soda and drank nothing but water.
Obviously she and I share the same logic.
Saturday, March 25, 2006
guessing game
Ok, so I got an email from the wonderful, adorable, lovable and absolutely yummy Hot Toddy a few days ago which read... ok, well it read a bunch of stuff that I am not going to copy paste since I can't give away all of our secrets in one post, but here is what the relevant part read:
I was just about to write and ask you for your mailing address - I have a treat I wanna send you!
Toddy
I wrote him back and gave him my address and then was sitting there and thought... What the fuck could it be?
So, I went and talked to The Cake Lady. I told her what had happened and asked her what in the world she thought Hot Toddy could be sending me. Besides a man, we were clueless.
Later that afternoon, I asked Jiffinner the same question and she just sat there, kind of staring off into Thinking Hard land. A few minutes later, she returned and said you know what? I have no idea.
So we decided to run it this weekend.
Guess people.
What do you think Hot Toddy has mailed me...
snoring
Friday, March 24, 2006
killin time
I want to blog, but I can't seem to wrap my head around a single thought for more than a few seconds.
It's Friday.
I am sitting at my desk, ignoring the stack of papers, eating Blue Bell's Great Divide and frequently letting my mind wander back to this morning when I caught a glimpse of Teacher Boy leaving for work.
No, I was not stalking him.
It just so happens that we both go to work the same way.
And I didn't even know that until this morning.
So there.
But he looked really good.
Ok, rephrase: he looked as "really good" as one can through a windshield when the looker is checking him out at a speed of 55-65mph and said looker (notice: "looker" not "stalker") hasn't been laid in three plus months.
Yeah, that kind of really good.
You knew what I meant.
And as if that wasn't enough excitement for one day, I ran into Mr.I in the parking lot. That was an interesting few minutes of both of us trying not to make eye contact with each other and still look all cool.
Oh and for those of you holding your breath since... this post... god, I hope you weren't holding your breath for that long... anyway, we ended up choosing door #1. It wasn't anything personal towards door #2 whom I still consider very yummy. It's just that Snakeman and The Cake Lady's husband (TCL'sH) happen to be best friends so TCL'sH will have more fun if he is there and I have fun (notice: fun not fun) with him too, so win-win.
I would still, very much so, like to meet up with Teacher Boy again but I haven't heard from him...
Wow.
You read all of that and it almost seems like I have a social life. Don't be fooled. I assure you, I still sit around at home in my PJ's watching reruns of Friends and Sex and the City more than I go out. Because I am just cool like that.
Thursday, March 23, 2006
an aside
The reason I am not commenting on your blogs is because of this:
Apparently the word verification feature is stuck. Every blog I have been on today that used WV on their comments has had the same verification word and when you enter it, it says the blog doesn't allow anonymous comments.
Just so you know.
Ya'll may want to turn off WV for today :)
This friendly service announcement has been brought to you by katehopeeden.
this one time, at...
So, I've told this story to a few friends and all that have heard it have asked the same question:
WHY IS THIS NOT ON YOUR BLOG?
Well, at first it was because this was quite possibly the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to me. With the obvious exception, yet omitted because it had to be done, of a dozen or so people watching me give birth.
Let's see if I can set the scene here.
After Triniti was born and but a wee lass (think: 5 months oldish) I had made the awful mistake of starting to have sex with her father again. Now before I go any further, I have explain the layout of my house. You'll understand in a few minutes. It was originally a two bedroom house but the owners had added another, very large, room onto it. They probably intended for it to be used as a larger living room, but I used it as my bedroom since there was more than enough room for all of my things and all of the things associated with having an infant. This room was set off to the side of the kitchen and accessible through a doorway and three stairs.
Anyway, I was having a party or something... I am trying to remember what the occasion was but I can't seem to. Anyway, there were people at my house. I know that The Cake Lady and her kids were there as well as some of the girls' friend's mothers but the exact attendees are escaping me. Possibly because I had completely blocked this out. I just know I was trying to look the Upstanding and Responsible Citizen part so that these moms would let their daughters play with mine. We had only moved here about six months before and this was the girls first year of school. I couldn't be that mom.
You know the one.
The one that the other moms think smokes dope and snorts coke off of half naked men while their pigtail clad angel is playing with my razor blades in the other room with my daughter.
So, let's say a half a dozen grownups were there and probably twice that many kids. Trin's dad was not one of them. In fact, I don't think I had even told anyone that he and I were sleeping together again yet. It wasn't exactly something I was proud of and these moms knew nothing of my personal life because let's face it, it wasn't brag worthy at the time. Well, Triniti had pooped and so I had taken her into the other room to change her diaper and left the other adults to entertain themselves. When I was finished, I picked Trin up out of her crib and walked up the three steps leading to the kitchen. I could hear Emilee saying something and then she started making moaning noises. When I walked into the dining area, the grownups that had been listening to her story were all pale-faced. But Emilee kept right on going, "and then she said 'OoooOOohhhh, oh yeah, oh god, oooohhhhhhhh' and I...."
OH. MY. FUCKING. GOD.
"Emilee, what are you talking about?"
"I was telling them about the noises you were making when I got up to get some water last night."
Not ONLY had she been telling them about the noises, but while I was changing Trin's diaper, she had also told everyone what she had seen when she had snuck out to get a drink the night before and wandered over to my doorway to see what was going on in my room. She and Amanda had sat there for several minutes before running back to their room.
My, then four year old, daughter had just acted out my part of a sex act in front of my friends and the parents of my daughter's friends.
For. Ten. Minutes.
editted to add that I just realized this is my 500th post... It would be this wouldn't it?
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
game time, yo
Good morning acro-players.
I have some good news and some bad news and since I love to have bad news first, let's start with that.
Bad News: No Acro today.
Why? you ask... Well, that would be because the Evil Blogger Beast decided to munch on my post last night as a late night snack.
I could have rewritten it, yes I know. However, I loathe rewriting things so I instead went to bed and decided this morning when driving to work that it was a sign. A sign that we need to skip Acroing this week. You see, I have been having MAJOR issues getting on to all of your blogs and my own. I keep getting error messages and forbidden access and just plain white pages after waiting fifteen minutes for the page to load. On a T1 line. And that is just crap. Several of you emailed me yesterday asking why you can't get on my blog and I am just as in the dark as you are. So, for those of us experiencing technical difficulties, I don't want you missing out on a round of acro.
Good News: Substitute game. Well, duh, of course I would have a back up plan. Oh ye of little faith.
Ok, now pay attention.
Substitute game is... well it doesn't have a name, but here's the gist of it.
Go find the lyrics to a song. When you do, copy the web address into the beloved Gizoogle. Then, copy a verse or two into the comments. The person who guesses posts the next set of lyrics.
So, person (A) posts and then person (B) guesses and posts lyrics of their own.
Got it?
Good.
I will post the first set of lyrics in the comments.
There could be points for this.
AND while I have you here, we are looking for new names for Acrophobia. Some of you have emailed them to me, but we need more so we can vote. SEND THEM TO ME. There is an email link on the sidebar OR you can post them in the comments.
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
Quandary much?
Ok, so let's say you had a little function coming up that warranted bringing a date. Mostly because it says on the invite "you and a guest" which really mostly blows for those of us who don't have a regular "guest" to bring.
You start skimming through the last few chapters of your life filed in The Brain and come to the conclusion that there are two possible "guests" you could bring.
The first of which is obviously open to these types of functions since he has accompanied you to one before. He is fun to hang out with and can keep up with you in conversation (let's face it, with me, that is no small feat) and the best friend of The Cake Lady's husband who will also be there. He can hold his own with no problemo at these types of things and even make them more fun than they would have been.
However, you haven't spoken to or seen him since Christmas when he put his arm around you and walked you back into the house.
No calls, no accidental bumping-in-to's --nadda.
(on a scale of 1-10)
Level of possible awkwardness: 7
Chance of complete recovery: 9
Possibility of fun: 8
Possibility of fun: 4
The second is a guy you fooled around with back in December and who then called you sporadically and unexpectedly. He is dreamy-cute and fun to talk to.
However, he hasn't been test driven at this type of function and isn't a 'sure thing'. And you haven't seen him in two months since a night of pool, alcohol and a long phone call where you surprisingly didn't make an ass out of yourself.
(on a scale of 1-10)
Level of possible awkwardness: 7
Chance of complete recovery: 7
Possibility of fun: 7
Possibility of fun: 7
So to recap the Options:
1. Invite Snakeman and hope you can both ignore the inevitable awkwardness that two people share after not having spoken for three months...
2. Invite Teacher Boy and ignore the inevitable awkwardness that two people share after not having spoken for two months...
3. Go stag, ride with a DD and get really drunk.
Keep in mind that option (3) will involve the drunk dialing of anyone whose number I can dial with one eye closed.
Suggestions welcomed.
Monday, March 20, 2006
weekend: over
I believe it is possible to find complete serenity as long as you are wearing comfy pajamas and it is raining outside.
That was my Sunday... but I am getting ahead of myself.
Friday night, I went to bed around midnight after watching WAY too many episodes of Little People, Big World and Trading Spaces and What Not To Wear. Apparently The Learning Channel is like crack. Who knew?
So, Saturday morning, I am snuggled up with my Trin who for some reason like to get in bed with me veeeeery early on Saturday mornings.
And only on Saturday mornings.
Weird.
She is great to sleep with though because she is a true snuggler. She isn't a flailer like her sisters. They start off by snuggling but as soon as you are asleep, they have their elbow jammed into your ear and legs across your neck. You can try and move them back over to the other side of the bed, which is like making similar ends of a magnet physically touch, but as soon you nod back off, they throw their legs right back over your neck. But, not Trin. Trin is a true snuggler. She just spoons right up next to you and stays there. She's like a jumbo teddy bear. I like it when she gets in bed with me. That is, until about 7:30 when she wakes up and sits on my chest and kisses me and pries my eyelids open saying "Momma?? Lake up Momma." Because she says "lake" not "wake" which is cute at any other time of day that isn't 7:30am.
But, this Saturday, Trin didn't get to wake me up because my cell phone rang at like 7:18. At first I thought it was my own fault since I have my backup alarms set through my cell but when I saw the clock I knew it was an actual call since the alarms aren't set until like 8:20.
It was The Cake Lady, who happens to be one of like seven people I won't physically maim for calling me before 8:00am on a Saturday. She had something come up and needed me to keep her two older kids while she worked. I told her no problem and got up. You see, dear readers, there are certain people in your life who you will get out of bed on a Saturday before 7:30 in the morning for. Why? Because they are true friends, the kind you who would do anything they asked of you to do in return without question. The Cake Lady is one of those people.
So, I stumble, pajama clad, to the kitchen where I wash out the coffee pot and fill the reservoir with water, all twelve cups worth. Then, over to my coffee area where I have all the teas and coffees and mugs and anything else even slightly coffee related to find *gasp* that I am out of coffee! How the fuck did that happen?
I almost cried.
One cannot be up at seven anything on a Saturday without coffee! It's against the law. Isn't it? Well, it should be.
So, I am standing there in my pajama pants and my t-shirt holding two empty containers of Folgers, wondering why the hell I keep empty containers of coffee anyway, trying to configure in my sleepy mind what to do. I live in BFE, so no Starbucks or even grocery stores.
Then, I remember, I had just bought a bottle of Fahrenheit pills. Which, I am 99.9% sure have some decent caffiene in them. They are in my purse, in my car. So, I throw on some tennis shoes and open my door. And do you know what I see? That the diesel mechanic shop next door is already open and that one of my landlord's employees is already working on some ginormous truck. Not even considering my appearance, I walk over to my car. As soon as the door is open, the guy says something to me. I didn't hear him so I said "excuse me?" and he says "the reggae music isn't bothering you is it?"
Reggae?
I'm sorry buddy, but Shakira is. not. reggae.
I said nope and grabbed two of the red pills with the giant "F" on them and went back inside. Popped the two pills with a huge glass of water and then went to talk to the girls and check my email.
Exactly fifteen minutes later I am bouncing off of the fucking walls.
I took Amanda and Emilee and dropped them off at softball practice and then hooked TCL's kids up with some dvds and went to work on my house. I did all of the dishes, all of the laundry, vacuumed the girls room, I cometed everything; sink, stove, counters, microwave, bathroom. Then I windexed everything I had cometed. I made lunch, cleaned up from lunch, made dinner, put all the laundry away, painted some in the bathroom.
It was insane.
Even when I was sick of cleaning I couldn't stop.
I could see my reflection in everything.
When the day was over and I went to bed, I thought that there was no way in hell I was going to be able to sleep, but I zonked right out.
Sunday morning I woke up still strung out. It was like the red pills were still going under the surface. I got up and did all of Ruthie's laundry and cleaned my room.
I cooked a ton of food but didn't eat hardly any of it, did all the dishes through out the day. I really wanted to mop but it was raining a little out side and I can't mop if I know the floors will be muddy the next day.
I even got the girls clothes ready for today, including their gymnastics leotards.
By about four, there wasn't anything left to do. And this some how made me sad. All this energy in my body was saying find something else to clean Kate, there has to be something... let's reorganize your closets... So, completely comfy in my pajama pants and a t-shirt, I hit the sofa willing my body to just be still for a little while.
And it was awesome.
My whole place was clean, clean, clean (Grey's Anatomy anyone?) and it was softly raining outside and my couch was super comfy.
What about ya'll? Weekend update?
Friday, March 17, 2006
Kiss me, I'm Irish!
The line starts here -- >
| Your Irish Name Is... |
Ella Boyle |
HAPPY ST. PATRICK'S DAY!!
Ok, we can't have St. Patrick's Day without some Limericks right??
I know I posted some of these a long long time ago on Jiffinner's blog, but they are too good to not repeat. I'll put the first here and then some more in the comments. AND you guys post some in the comments too!!
*There was a man from Ghent
*Who had a penis so long it bent
*It was so much trouble
*That he kept it double
*And instead of coming he went.
And while we're at it, name the brilliant Irish movie this is from:
*You should come to the dance, Marcy, come and have a bit o' craic.
**Crack?
*Yah, it's brilliant craic.
**By crack I'm assuming that you don't mean incredibly hard drugs.
*Oh no! It just means havin' a laugh, like havin' a bit o' fun!
And, depending on how much work I have today, which shouldn't be too much, I may be adding more stuff later. I can't help it! The Irish in me wants out :)
If you have limericks or movie quotes, get them in there damn it.
Thursday, March 16, 2006
"Lonely Arms Day"
On a message board I frequent for single parents, we refer to that lonely, crappy, blatantly single for too long, depressed feeling as a "Lonely Arms Day." You have probably seen The Girl or Liz or Tuxbaby mention having one on their blog.
It's just one of those days where you find yourself staring out the window instead of working. One of those days where you go home and watch Under The Tuscan Sky and try to grab some of her independence or remind yourself that good things are supposed to come to those that wait. It's that inbetween time when you aren't broken hearted from the last relationship ending and there aren't any prospects on the horizon. It's just you. It's so much you and not even a glimpse of another in the foreseeable future that it aches a little. The books or plants or projects or friends, none of them really fill the void that has somehow managed to open up just a little wider and remind you that you are lonely.
I can go months, a year once, without dating any one and 99% of that time, I am happy. I am content with my children, my friends, my books, my writing, my ideas and plans, (more recently) my plants, my music... basically, my life. I get up everyday and I live. I don't think I am incomplete because I am single. In fact, I think that being single has helped me so much in becoming a complete person. Not having someone to fall back on has forced me in so many ways to make big decisions about things going on in my life and more importantly about what kind of person I want to be. There is no one here to share the blame or reward so I have to take those calls seriously.
But, sometimes, you wake up and miss having someone's arm around you. You miss morning coffee talks and that kiss goodbye before you both go to work. You miss that random phone call in the middle of the day from one to the other reminding them to pick up milk on their way home and the short 'I love you' before you hang up and go back to work. You miss the dinner ritual and the rehashing of each others day. You miss the chitchat or the plans or the picking of tv shows. You miss the looks that only you can give each other because only you really know each other like that. You miss the going to bed and the small talk as you are getting ready to turn off the lights. And you miss, of course, that same arm going around you as you go to sleep.
99% of the time, I don't really need all of that.
99% of the time.
But, the last few days have been the 1%.
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
Acrophobic Humpday: The Pick Up Line Edition
Isn't today the ides of March?
I think it is the fifteenth. I had to memorize a whole monologue once about it. Julius Caesar right?
Anyway.
So, I am in Wal-Mart yesterday with all three of my darling daughters; Cranky, Whiny and Mouthy getting a birthday present for Mouthy's Amanda's sleepover Wednesday night. They had a dentist appointment, otherwise I would have been shopping alone.
I was also looking at shoes for the girls on clearance. A lot of cleats were on sale (sadly none in Emo's size), so I was having the girls try on shoes. We went down pretty much every aisle and I was trying to find size 2.5 and 3.5 marked down and mixed in with all the other shoes in no.particular.order. This alone is enough to make me crazy. I mean who the fuck arranges these shoes?
Anyway, this guy keeps coming down every aisle I am on but not really looking at anything. I thought maybe he was having a hard time finding shoes for his kids but by the time I got to the ladies aisle for sizes 5-8 (Amanda, with her big ol honker feet can sometimes wear a size five), he was pissing me off since obviously the two kids he had with him did.not.wear.this.size. and he was getting in my way. I ignored him though since Trin was begging me for a Winnie the Pooh cookie and Emilee was saying things like "why don't I ever get new shoes? How come you only buy things for Amanda?" Nevermind that she is wearing new shoes I got her like two weeks ago. I am quietly thinking about the fact that the wine aisle is like twenty feet away and please god get me out of this store before I publicly melt down.
Amanda finally says she will settle on the pink canvas hightop looking shoes that are actually lowtop. Uh-huh. You see? So, I am squatted down on the floor helping her try a pair on and saying "Triniti, don't touch that. Amanda, where are your toes? We don't take the shoes of the shelf Triniti. How do they feel Amanda, are they too tight? Mamma said no, Trin." When this guy says something to me.
At first, I didn't even hear him with all my chaos. So, I look over and it is the same guy who was coming down every aisle I was on. I said, "excuse me?" and he says, "are you married?"
What the fuck? You're hitting on me?
Oh, I wanted to lie. I wanted to say yes, I am married and get up and leave. But I had three little kids there, all of whom have been told on numerous occasions to not lie.
"No."
"Oh. Well, do you date?"
Seriously?
Ok, I will give the dude some props here since he had the balls to ask the lady with the three hopped-up-on-meth-and-rubber-cement kids out in a store. But, he was so not my type.
So, I did lie.
"No, I don't really have the time." I motioned towards my heathen monkeys who were practically picking ticks out of each other's hair and eating them gleefully while bouncing up and down and spinning in circles. And inside, for the first time ever, I embraced their public insanity as a blessing.
"Oh, well, you just look so good." Uh huh, so not going out with this guy.
"Yeah, thanks."
And I bolted.
And I bought the girls ice cream. Lots of ice cream. And kissed them.
Your mission, if you choose to accept it: PICK UP LINES
I can see this being a hard as hell theme so good luck.
And onto the points:
So, I was talking to Jim C and I asked him why it was that he hadn't been posting to his blog and his reponse? I haven't been blogging becuase I've Been On Really Exquisite Drugs.... (20 points) Shit. Brutally honest right? Thinking that was untoppable (if there were such a word), I asked Grend31 the same question. His reply? I haven't been blogging because I'm Damned Overloaded Practicing Erotic Yodeling (15 points. Come on? Erotic and Yodeling in the same sentence?) There was quite a conversation after this because I needed some explaining on what exactly erotic yodeling entailed and whether Grend31, being a happily married straight man could, within his vows, take part in erotic yodeling. Grend31 then came clean and admitted what the real reason was. I have not been bloggin because Creativity Left Overnight Under Duress (5 points for the confession). I was hoping to change the subject and looked to madigan, which was a mistake since her mind spends more time in the gutter than mine and well let's me honest, that's no easy feat. I haven't been blogging because I have Volunteered Actively Nailing Innocent Sensual Hotties (15 points). So, I asked Madi, where does one volunteer for this? She said she wasn't really sure but that Chicken would know. However, after reading Chicken's acro, I was quickly turned off of the idea. I haven't been blogging because I have Anxious Red Rashes Everywhere, So The Edge Dissapeared (15 points, my 'edge' would dissapear too!). Of course, once she explained, it all made sense: I have been Entertaining Rabbits, Untying Dogs, Ingnoring Turantula's...Eww! (another 5 points)
I glanced around the room and spotted Tuxbaby sitting in the corner staring off into space. You know, the kind of staring one does when they are blissfully in love and recently home from vacation? So, I asked her why she hadn't been blogging. The reason I haven't been blogging: Running Everywhere, Noticing Obvious Vegas Attractions That Exhilarate (15 points) Ok, but why else? I havne't been blogging because: Someone Put Rabbits In Neighbor's Garden (10 points) *Someone* Tuxbaby? Who could that someone be? She just kind of looked around innocently before saying it couldn't have been her. Why? I'm not blogging because I'm Heaving Eggs At Volkswagons Entering Neighborhood (10 points) Well, yeah. Obviously one couldn't have time for rabbits with the VW's and the eggs right?
I saw Karamia sitting at a table having a conversation with herself. I wanted to check on her, so I walked over and asked her what she had been up to. Her answer? I'm not blogging because Little oval ompalompas peer yearningly (10 points). I shot JimC a stearn look since this probably had something to do with his drugs and then asked Karamia if she was ok. I have not been blogging because Every moment pretending to yodel (10 points). Shot Grend31 a nasty look this time, one of those that says 'Don't make me tell your wife...' Seems two of my favorite blogboys were messing with my girl here.
So, on my way out of the room, I see a new girl flirting with Yoda and wander over to introduce myself. She says her name is Robin and smiles I haven't been blogging because I Have only captured kinky evil Yeti (10 points). I think she meant "Yoda" but I didn't say anything.
Don't know what Acrophobia is? Well, click that button and find out.
Then you can play with us.
You know you want to. Everyone's doing it.
Monday, March 13, 2006
#357
Ok, so when you pull out my List Of Things I Will Do For A Friend, there is a big ass line drawn through 357. Help a friend paint his/her house. So, if you were needing help with that one, The Cake Lady has already used #357.
Saturday morning, I got up at 8:00am. Yeah, eight. On a Saturday. Now, this isn't to say that I don't ever get up before noon on a weekend. Of course I do because I have kids and kids don't typically let you stay in bed anytime past nine. But, since both of my daughters are now in softball, I have to be up and out the door by 8:45am to get them to their practice. And since the assistant coach is... what's the word I'm looking for here? Ummm.. Oh yeah, smokin' HOT. I have to actually look decent. This means that I can't go with my hair sticking up in every direction decked out in my flannel pajama pants and the t-shirt that the girls made me for Mother's Day two years ago with '#1 Mom' colored on it next to the giant disproportioned picture of me towering over the tree. Nope. I have to actually put on a bra and brush my teeth.
Now the responsible part of my brain is yelling "kick ass!" because we (my brain and I) are actually out of the bed at a decent hour, dressed and ready to clean and organize things. But the Saturday part of my brain is sobbing in the corner.
Off to softball practice where I slow the car down enough for the girls to jump out their doors and I am back to the house. Why? Because I am on a schedule. I have from nine to eleven to get my place somewhere near the realm of clean and make lunch. At eleven, I had done the dishes, swept the floor, cleaned half of the girls room, washed all the towels and dried half of them and made lunch. The girls called me (I left them my cell phone) to let me know it was time to come get them at eleven fifteen. Ten minutes later I am standing in the... shit. Let me look in my Softball For Dummies book here... ah, dugout. I am standing in the dugout talking to the coach. He is all talking to me like I have some idea of what the fuck he is saying. It was so cute. Apparently, both my daughters bat left handed, which is strange because they are right handed. And Amanda pitches left handed and right handed. So she is baseball ambidextrous. Ok, so that isn't the right lingo, but I couldn't find it in the book. All it means to me is that I need to get her two gloves. Apparently Amanda is pretty good. The couch was practically raving about her like omg, she is going to SAVE the team!
I am just listening and trying to file away words that I can look up later. I walked away with the above info as well as that both girls need 11.5 gloves. I think. His daughter only has a 10.5. Anyway, I think I might actually stay at the practice on Wednesday and watch so I have some idea of what the hell they are talking about when they come home and start all that softball babble. Shit, I can't even think the word "softball" without thinking about Brian Regan:
They call it softball, it makes it sound like its harmless. Did you ever take a line shot to the face with a softball, you dont say 'hey thats downy soft, that was like a big ball of cotton, hey dont worry bout that, we're playin softball, we're all gonna float around like angels! Don't worry about that, that's bloodlite!' Did you ever strike out in softball? The other players are all like 'Wow... he throws a wicked twelve foot arc. It's hard to hit in only three tries. It should be a bigger ball, it should be a kickball, we should play 10 strike kickball'.
I love him.
Ok so after practice, we have lunch and head to The Cake Lady's house. You see, TCL's husband has been on vacation all this past week and they have been trying to get all of their home projects done. Like their new appliances and new cabinets and fans and plumbing... now I remember why I rent. Anyway, she really, really, really, really, really, really wanted to paint her house this weekend but hubby said that they probably wouldn't have enough time. So, what did I do? I offered to come and help. Well, why not right? She wants the damn thing painted and how hard can it be. I mean, I painted my whole bathroom. By myself.
Yeah.
I started painting at noon. We stopped at eight. That is eight hours of painting. Have you ever painted for eight straight hours? The only thing that keeps you going is inhaling a whole lotta fumes when no one is looking. So, at eight something, TCL and I went inside where I popped open a big ass bottle of wine and drank almost half of it in about twenty minutes. Then we ate a buttload of BBQ that her husband had been cooking in his magic BBQ pits. Why are they magic? Let me explain. I always bring chicken. Everytime. I buy a bag of frozen chicken breasts. I marinade them in this Southwest Chipotle seasoning stuff that I use at home and I throw them into a big plastic bowl and take them. And every single time, they taste better after TCL's husband cooks them.
I don't understand it.
After I had downed almost a whole bottle of wine, I didn't so much care about the understanding it part anymore.
After eating I rounded my girls up and went home. I was so totally in bed by nine o'clock and passed smooth out. I was so tired that when I got home and the idea of "drunk dialing" someone crossed my mind, I couldn't. Partly because my hands had decided to stop working and I would have been dialing by putting a pen in my mouth and using it to push the buttons but mostly because I was thoroughly whooped.
The next morning, up at eight thirty and getting the girls fed before practice at ten, I was seriously considering not going back to help finish what I had started. Partially because I had woken up several times during the night with my hands and arms cramping up. I had to flatten out my right hand and sleep with it between the pillows.
This is what three consecutive years of working in an office will do to you people. When you sit on your ass day in and day out, you can't do manual labor anymore. You can do basic housework and maybe even minor yardwork, but you can't paint a fucking house.
But, I got my act together and got to The Cake Lady's house around 1:00 where she and I finished painting her house. At about 4:30, we were done. The house was painted, all of it. Even the bird houses were painted to match. And she was still going. Cleaning up her yard and ready to cut the wood for the trim. I was going to, only I was going home. By five, I was laying on the couch watching Dirty Dancing and eating BBQ that she had sent me home with. I did three loads of laundry and then the girls and I went to bed.
The Cake Lady and I painted a whole house. A house.
Friday, March 10, 2006
This is a duck, it lives in a pond.
The Great Family
Thursday, March 09, 2006
random updates (2)
Seems I have been doing a bunch of these random update posts lately huh? I wish there was some long story of a reason why that I could write and keep you all busy reading for a few hours but no such luck.
Life has just been nutty.
First, I had a huge argument with my sister and I had that filling in the #1 slot of my brain for Things To Think About. We are cool now and it seems like everything has been resolved.
Second, my mom has been staying with me for almost a week and where there is my mother, there is drama. She carries a little sack of it around with her and just throws some up in the air when she is bored.
Third, Emilee has officially started playing softball. Pics are here. We had her first practice yesterday. It was supposed to be on Saturday and they were supposed to call or email which meant I was chained to my house all day waiting and then: nothing. Emo was totally bummed. Anyway, we had practice yesterday and Amanda decided she wants to play too! I spoke to the coach's wife about it and she said if I sign Amanda up she will be on the same team as Emilee. So it's a go.
Fourth, I found a new property I am interested in. I called my Lender Lady and asked her to update all of my preapproved stuff for me and I contacted the Realtor Dude and am in the process of setting up a viewing. If everything is hunky dory then I am pushing this one. It is four bedrooms and on almost an acre, so the backyard is big. There are a lot of trees and it is totally in my price range. I am going to hit them at about ten grand less than what they are asking for it and see what happens.
Fifth, I have sucked in yet another victim. Blogger should be paying me royalties ;) The Bachelor is officially a Blogger. I feel like there should be a disclaimer now... Like:
The opinions and views expressed in this blog are not necessarily those of Katehopeeden. All information and graphic detailing has been kindly provided by The Bachelor independent of Lots Of Craziness. The blog is provided by The Bachelor for information or entertainment purposes only and should not be used as directive, although it should be read daily.
Yeah, that should do it.
Sixth, I had to plan my trip for April to go see The Girl get married in Houston! I have only ever been to one wedding and it was my mother's and I cried like a baby so I hope that I remember to pack lots of packs of travel kleenex. But, this is very exciting for me because I get to pick up Liz at the airport in Austin on the way and I am still begging Lola to come. Last time we checked she said it was still "possible" but she "doesn't know for sure yet."
Seventh, Amanda is one of two "Flag Girls" at school. Ather Student Council meeting last week, she got assigned Flag Girl. This means, she and a fellow Student Council member get to put up the flag every morning and take it down in the afternoon and she gets to help with the crosswalks. She is super jazzed :)
Eighth, I pulled "A Toddy" yesterday and hurt myself at the softball practice. In my True Klutz Fashion, I was walking down the hill towards the field with my right eye looking through the eyehole of my camera and my left eye watching the field for the picture when I stepped in a hole. Three things happened:
1. I didn't get the picture.
2. I damn near fell down.
3. I twisted my ankle in front of all the other parents.
Smooth huh?
Ok, consider yourselves updated!
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
Acrophobic Humpday: The I don't wanna Edition
Let's see.
First of all, apologies for missing last week. Hard as it may be to believe, I completely forgot it was Wednesday until Thursday and no one commented or emailed that I was an idiot, so I just hoped everyone else had forgotten as well.
Ya'll all did right?
I have been light on the blogging. There are several reasons for this like my being outraged at certain parenting books, Emilee starting softball (which practices not once, not twice, but three times a week), VO5 discontinuing my shampoo and rendering me a frizzy mess of curls that is completely unstyleable as anything more than a ponytail. They.canceled.my.shampoo. How fucked is that? Let me tell you. It is seriously fucked.
And while we are on the subject of all things fucked up, did you know that acrophobia is actually a fear of heights? How did that escape my attention? All of this time we have been playing a misnamed game. Well, ignorance was bliss, but how will we sleep at night now? Now that we know we are playing a game that really is the phobia for people who can't stand on a chair without breaking into a sweat?
So, we need a new name for our game. Get your noggins to work ok? Any good suggestions will get bonus points next week. Oh, don't act like you don't care. You are so into the points.
And the points, yes there will be double post points next week unless I somehow manage to squeeze in some time today at work on my lunch break to throw them together.
Ok, so theme this week is reasons for not blogging. Any reasons. Trolls, mowing the lawn, fighting the law, eating too much icecream, looking for your beer goggles, fighting with the voices in your head, trying to channel spirits, calling psychic networks, writing to people in Tibet, smiling at strangers, eating your toenails, taking pictures of people through windows, rearranging your sock drawer, hiding all of your money in pill bottles, cleaning your freezer with a toothbrush, drawing chalk lines around your stuffed animals, eating your boogers... you know, the normal stuff.
Don't know what Acrophobia is? Well, click that button and find out.
Then you can play with us.
You know you want to. Everyone's doing it.
Monday, March 06, 2006
Worst book, ever
I wonder if you can get sued for saying something like... oh, I don't know... "Don't ever buy this book, it is the worst book, ever."
No, right?
Ok, well, I went to the library a couple of weeks ago and got about ten books. Seven of them were parenting books, mostly preteen and prepreteen and the other three were for puppies. That was also when I got my language cds, if you are trying to keep track :)
So, I've been through three of the parenting books already. Once you've been a parent for almost ten years, you can skip over several of the chapters like "fit throwing" or "hitting" or any other issue that mostly arises in toddlers and very young kids and skip to the bigger things like "the talk" or "changing bodies."
I was going to name them all here but a) they weren't worth it and b) that's a lot of hyperlinking so instead, I am just going to bitch about one of them.
One of the books I got is called I'm Okay, you're a brat. by Susan Jeffers, Ph.D.
Now, when I saw this, I was thinking it would be a little more humorous than anything else. You know, poking fun at how crazy our kids can make us and how we aren't awful parents, that kind of thing. A few pages in, I knew this book wasn't for me and thought maybe I would let Jiffinner read it since she doesn't have kids yet. One chapter in, I knew I wanted to yell at the author.
Now, I know as much as the next guy that no one ever tells you how hard it is, no one ever tells you how much work it will be and how it will completely change you lives when you have kids. No one ever tells you because there is no way that you can, with words, express how much your world changes. Are you up all night for the first year? Bet your ass. Do you have diapers and messes and screaming and tantrums and a million other things thrown at you on a daily basis? Uh... yeah. But if you truly love and are devoted to your children, that smile you get after two hours of sleep in two days or that "Good night Mamma, I lub you" after a whole day of saying "no!" to your toddler makes it all worth it.
In this book, Susan Jeffers says that there are basically two types of people. The normal people, of which she classifies herself, and the people born with "Loving-Being-a-Parent (LBP) genes."
Now before I go too much farther, let me tell you, I am not writing this to stick myself up on a pedestal or to say I am such a good mother or anything, I am just mad. This book disgusted me to such a level that I am angry.
From the second page of the first chapter:
When my first child was born, I was filled with fairy-tale expectations about the joys of parenting. It was a time of great celebration. But the party soon ended, all the revelers went home ...and the reality set in. And as my days as a parent turned into weeks, into months, into years and into decades, the question never left my mind... Why didn't anyone ever tell me how shockingly hard it was going to be?
My mother didn't tell me. My friends who were parents before me didn't tell me. The famous childcare experts who I relied on and trusted didn't tell me. Nobody ever told me. To this day, many years later, the world-at-large still glorifies, sanctifies, and romanticizes the longest and most difficult project in the world called PARENTHOOD, which has been justifiably described by comedian, Rick Reynolds, as "life-drainingly, wretchedly, miserably hard." It truly does feel that on this subject, a conspiracy of silence pervades our society.
Now, as I said before, being a parent is hard. Ask Jiffinner how many times I have told her that before she and The Bear start a family, get all that stuff you want to buy, do all the things you want to do, get all the sleep you want to sleep because when you have a baby, your world changes. And having a child is the longest and most difficult project you will ever take on, but the rewards so far outnumber the hindrances.
As much as I would love to copy the entire book here so that you can read it all and gasp at the awful things written it, I haven't the time nor the copyright permission so if you are truly curious about the book, I recommend going to your local library and checking it out instead of buying it. If you really think that you shouldn't be a parent because you don't like children or you don't ever want to lose your freedom, then this book is probably for you and you should read it as long as you get it from the library so as not to send any royalties to this mean lady.
The book should have been titled: The Big Warning.
And then one copy should have been given to each and every very selfish person on this planet. Look at the table of contents, for instance:
Part One: Another Side Of The Picture
Chapter One: Why Didn't Anyone Tell Me?
Chapter Two: I Want My Life Back!
Chapter Three: Oil and Water: Sex and Diapers
Chapter Four: The Unspeakable Truth About Kids
Part Two: Send The "Experts" Back To School
Chapter Five: What You Put In Doesn't Necessarily Come Out
Chapter Six: Down With The Guilt Peddlers!
Chapter Seven: Top Ten Mad, Mad Myths
1. There is an instinctual urge for all men and women to have children.
2. Having children is the ultimate fulfillment in a woman's life.
3. All women instictively know how to care for their newborn child.
4. All women have an instinctual desire to care for their children.
5. Breast is best for everyone.
6. "Bonding" and "attachment" are essential to the well-being of the child's life.
7. Mothers should stay home from work during the early years of a child's life.
8. All that goes wrong with a child is the mother's fault.
9. Women are more capable than men when it comes to the care of their children.
10. Getting custody of the children is a "win" for all women.
[Had to add these after I read them]
Chapter Eight: The Dangers Of Full- Time Parenting
Chapter Nine: There's No Place Like Work
Part Three: Should We... Shouldn't We... Why Did We?
Chapter Ten: So Why Do We Do It?
Chapter Eleven: So Why Don't We Do It?
Chapter Twelve: If One Could Do It All Over Again...
Can you tell that this book was written by someone who clearly should have never been a mother? I didn't couldn't read the whole thing. I took this book to the park with me on Sunday and put it down after two chapters so I could go play with my kids. Why? Because the fact that there are people like this woman out in the world raising a child made me sad.
The beginning of Chapter Two says:
I have heard expectant parents saying with great assurance that having a children won't change their lives. They are humorously, yet pitifully, misinformed. The truth is that: Everything changes once a child is born!
There is not one Iota, not one speck of your life, that remains the same - physically, psychologically, financially, emotionally, spiritually, intellectually, experientially. Name it, and it changes. It's as though we've traded one life for another and the big shock hits for many of us when we realize: There is no going back!
It then goes on to cover a bunch of the things that changed in such a negative way that I was appalled.
"Freedom: "I can't believe I traded my old life for this. I voluntarily traded heaven for misery. I made a bad decision and I have to find a way to live with it."
Sleep, Precious Sleep: You may think that once the colic disappears and a normal sleep pattern is established, all is well. Wrong! Now it's time for teething problems. Will this merriment never cease? "Yes, little one, I know your gums hurt. But I am tired." Eventually the teething problems disappear and you sleep more peacefully throughout the night until the early, very early, morning at which time that playful, cuter-than-cute face is in your tired face wanting her breakfast and demanding your attention. Ob, boy. Does she demand your attention! When they finally reach school age, you are still up early, dressing them, feeding them breakfast and waiting for the school bus to arrive. It's early, early, early. No respite here.
Mobility: The pathetically naive among us believe that a child needn't hamper mobility; you can just take the little one with you wherever you want to go. Obviously, these unsuspecting should are not observers of human behavior. In the first place, it's not that easy. In the second place, who wants your child there anyway?
Privacy: From the minute a child is born to the time he flies from the nest, privacy is a thing of the past. Remember this: Privacy never resides where a child resides.
And as if you need any other reasons, there are subchapters devoted to: Money, Career Opportunities, Camaraderie, "Sanity", Adulthood (The Best Parts), Self-Esteem, Personal Time, Fun, Relationships, Peace Of Mind
And it's all wrapped up with this:
"Those with the LBP genes willingly give up much of their lives because of the wonderful benefits they experience in raising their children. Those without the LBP genes love their children, but feel as though they have been imprisoned without any chance of parole!
That was it. That was all I could take.
Are there people out there like this? I have no doubt. Everytime I see someone arrested on the news for killing or hurting their child, I know that there are people who aren't meant to be parents. It's ironic, really, that those upper-middle class married couples, very similar to our author I'm sure, are the ones no one bats an eye lash at when they say that they are having a child. But me, your statistical knocked up fifteen year old, I'm the one people worried about.
Two parent households with quotes like, "She and her husband had wanted this child so badly, but during these four months they lost sight of the reason why. (Four years later, they still haven't figured it out.)" and "I'm tossing the baby around on the bed trying to get him to fall asleep. I had to try very hard not to be violent with him. Anything to shut him up."
They make it sound like having a child is the biggest plague to ever befall your happy household. This book was the biggest load of crap I have ever attempted to read.
Saturday, March 04, 2006
