Saturday, August 30, 2008

Starts With The Letter P

The other day in spin class, our instructor gave us the opportunity to request songs from her ipod as an incentive to spin our wheels so fast that one could fry bacon and eggs off of them by the end of class. I picked "California Love ". It's one of my favorite songs, especially when I'm getting my workout on. Anyway, some guy requested a song that I had never heard but LOVED. I didn't know the name of it but made a mental note of it. A couple of days later I heard it on the radio and asked Howie what the song was. He gave me the name but I again soon forgot it. I wanted to add it to my ipod and maybe even put it on my MS page so I asked him the name of the song but he couldn't remember it. So frustrating! I knew it was a one word song. I knew the title began with a P but I couldn't for the life of me remember who sang it, how it went, nothing.

Me: "Are you SURE you don't remember what that song was?"
Howie: "No, I can't remember. Was it Kid Rock?"
Me: "I don't know the name of the band, just that the song starts with a P and is one word."
Howie: "Is it by Limp Bizkit?"
Me: "I don't remember WHO IT'S BY!"
Howie: "Was it 'Numb'?"
Me: "STARTS WITH A LETTER P. As in PLEASE stop smacking me across the head because I don't listen when my wife tells me the songs starts with the letter PEEEEEEE!"
Howie: "Is it by Linkin Park?"

About this time I wanted to pull his tongue out of his mouth and wrap it around a hot curling iron.

I looked online for the top rock songs. I looked on myspace. Two words: needle, haystack. It drove me crazy for 3 days straight! Don't you hate that feeling when what you want to remember is right there in your brain, teetering on the edge of recognition but just out of reach. ARGGGH!

Me: "I wish I could just look into your mental rolodex and find the name of that song. Are you SURE you don't remember? Think. THINK. THIIIIIIINK!
Howie: "Was it Kryptonite?"

I had a flash forward of me and Howie in our 70's being rushed into the emergency room and the doctor saying "sir we can only save your wife's life if we know what medication she takes. And even though it would only be one medicine and he would have bought it for me for the last 20 years and he would have seen the bottle every day and it rhymes with his first name he will not remember. And then I will die. Because if my life depends on his remembering something, I am TOAST!

Me: "Look at me". *speaking in sign language* "LETTER P!"
Howie: "Pppppp, I give up."

I decided to give myspace a try again and went through all the top artists one by one, scouring their pages, listening to music (some of it really scary) until....

*choir singing Hallelujia*

I found it! Sweet mother of all that is holy, I FOUND IT! I was so excited when I did that I kissed the computer screen. And then rubbed it all over my body. I was right. One word. Starts with a letter P. Four syllables.

PARALYZER!

Such a great song. I swear if I died right now I would do so with an utter feeling of accomplishment!

Enjoy!

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

When You Know You’re In Serious Need Of Sexual Stimulation

I was at the park yesterday with a couple of friends of mine. We let the kids run around the playscape, shouting until their vocal chords snapped in half and they couldn't speak anymore which was useful because we were ignoring them anyway.

This is part of how our conversation went and the ensuing lust fest that followed:

Me: "So you know who I think is hot? Jason Statham."
Jenn: "I don't think I know him."
Me: "He played in 'The Transporter' and 'Snatch'."


Shari: *thinking hard* "Oh, yeeeeeaaah, he's hot."
Jenn: "I think Justin Timberlake is good looking.


*collective sighs and synchronized nods"

Shari: "Yeah, you know who is really hot? Sportacus from that kid's show Lazy Town."

*crickets chirping*
Jenn: "I have never heard anyone say that before."
Shari: "What, you don't think he's hot with that blue suit and that great ass and those sexy arms."
Jenn: "And that weird mustache."
Me: "No, that's even hotter."
Jenn: "You need a picture of him to hang up in your bedroom."
Shari" "I already have one."

This morning, I photobucketed some pictures for Shari and sent these to her with a little note that said "get ready to change your underwear."




Her response? "No sir!!! I think I like him in blue! Running around saving scary puppets- now that's hot."

She's got a serious problem. But then I started looking through more pics to send to her and was starting to get turned on and then Jenn sent me this clip:



And now I'm in love. Hummina Hummina. I like that he winks coming up from each push up. *adjusts boobs*

This is what happens when women stay at home all day with children and without any male stimulation. We start crushing on the men from the children's shows. Next thing you know, I will have a thing for that guy from Yo Gabba Gabba!



Okay maybe not.

While we disagree on who is and isn't hot we all steadfastly agree that we would throw ourselves at Justin Timberlake's feet and toss our 4 year old maternity bras at him. Here's a clip to prove our point. I would let the man tie me up with those suspenders of his! This is how Shari suggests you should watch the video: " Watch by yourself- maybe even grab that glass of wine and dim the lights..."

Show Me The Sexy

Sunday, August 24, 2008

There's Something About Howie

Many of you may remember a few months back when Howie got his promotion. He is now a manager of a web technology team. His first three months on the job were really rough and at one point, he seriously considered withdrawing from the position but I kept pushing him forward, telling him that at hour 12 I was ready to quit delivering Birdie and if I had she would now be a 50 pound tumor on my back. He looked at me funny but he got the point: anything great is worth working for.

His team loves him and so does upper management. What's not to love? Howie is one of the coolest guys you will ever meet. He just has "it". What he didn't have was the clothes to go with his job. The other day he had a huge meeting with upper management and that morning I found him standing in our closet, shouting dirty words and throwing clothes in the air. "I have nothing to wear!" I wanted to laugh because he looked like an exasperated twelve year old girl but the truth was that he was right. He really didn't have anything appropriate to wear so I told him that we should go shopping and get him something nice. To hell with the khakis and button down shirts, it was time that he dressed the managerial part.

When I first met Howie, he was a Polo man. Everything that he owned was Polo Ralph Lauren. Even the SOCKS! He's since expanded his wardrobe to wear Wal-mart t-shirts and holey socks. We went through a period when the money was REALLY tight and he had no alternatives. Hey, that's what happens when you have kids. They suck the life and money out of you. Hell, the cost of feeding them alone would be enough to buy a new car!

So yesterday we went shopping for Howie. It's not an easy task because Howie is built uniquely. He is tall, 6"4. He's also a little chunky, the doctor just ordered him to lose 20 pounds. He's got large biceps and a rather big badunkadunk. He like to wear his pants low which presents challenges in terms of waist size/length ratios. He's also REALLY picky. For a man who wears mostly ratty Wal-mart t-shirts he is such a primadonna! Our first stop was Brooks Brothers. He didn't think they would have anything to suit him because most places don't. He usually has to shop Big and Tall. The tall fits him but the clothes are always too big.

The saleswoman, Jodi, took us to the back to look at some suits. After trying on a few she called the tailor, Carol, who came and found a perfect blue pinstriped suit for Howie. Then another assistant came and all three of them surrounded Howie who was standing on a platform in front of three large mirrors. I browsed "The History Of Brooks Brothers" book. Oh, that's a flying sheep that's in the logo. I always thought it was a pig. Who knew?


They tucked, they pinned, they measured, they pulled. They added shoulder pads and touched him in areas that should have made me jealous. They stood back and ogled him as if he were a sculpture and finally stepped away from him and Carol said, "what do you think?" Oh my GOD! My eyes glazed over and I felt dizzy! If Carol and Jodi wouldn't have been there I would have shoved him into the over-sized dressing rooms and had my way with him right there on that plush arm chair! Ya'll, the man was HOT! If he starts wearing shit like that everyday it will be an effort for him to even get out the door because I will be hanging off of him! I have nevah seen him look so good and it took a minute to sink in that that man standing in front of me with that perfectly unwrinkled white shirt and pinstriped suit was my Howie. MY HOWIE! I would take pictures but the suit had to be sent to Boston to get tailored and he won't get it until the 12th of September (I will take pictures when it gets here). He did get 5 new shirts, a few ties and a few pairs of pants. He also got some shoes and a belt and is going to look a-m-a-z-i-n-g! *drool*

Today I'm going to shave his head and by tomorrow morning even his own children won't recognize him. My theory is that even though his employees respect him now, his new look with garner more respect with upper management. Unfortunately in this world, the way we look plays a huge part in the way people treat us and I think he will look more professional, more credible and garner the respect he deserves. Although now I might have to start worrying about those cute little interns that might start flirting with him.

You know what? When a man looks that a good a little flirting comes with the territory. Besides, it's worth it. The way that he walked in that suit, with his shoulders held back and his head up high was a clear indication that he felt good about himself. I haven't seen him feel that confident in a long time. And a man who feels good about himself is a happy man :-)

Friday, August 22, 2008

Can't Hold It In Any Longer

Do you all may remember, not but a few weeks back, when I threw myself at Howie's feet and promised him blow job upon blow job if he would let me have a kitten?

Well, he finally caved (undoubtedly with his eyes glazed over at the idea of a marathon of blow jobs) and let me have the kitten. We named him Minor. He was a sweet, cuddly, purring little angel for like the first DAY he lived with us. Since then he has destroyed my house plants, shit through every room in the house, dug through our garbage, climbed on our table while we're eating dinner, and tried to drown himself in our kitchen sink.

I tried not to complain because, after all, I was the one who begged and pleaded for him. I've taken full responsibility for feeding him and cleaning out his shit box and endured the pain when he used my calves as a scratching post. I would NEVER complain in front of Howie and I've been trying to hold it in but I just can't stand it any longer so here is my confession:

THE CAT IS DRIVING ME INSANE!

Today he woke me up at 5am with his incessant meowing. I had made him sleep in the basement because I no longer trust that his insides won't cramp down and cause him to squirt shit through our house while we're sleeping. I gave him food but he refused to eat it. He prefers dog food but I refuse to give it to him, knowing that it will give him nuclear diarrhea. When I feed the dog I have to put the cat in the basement or else he will stand under the dog and try to eat as much food as possible. The kids let Minor out of the basement this morning before Spencer was done eating and he raced over to the food bowl and when I picked it up to empty it out in Spencer's food container the cat jumped into the food container and started shoving food into his mouth like he was starving. I picked him up and set him in front of his own bowl but he wasn't interested. He then proceeded to spend half the morning meowing until I wanted to cut his vocal cords with my rusted pizza slicer. He only stopped meowing when he was playing with his toy bird that chirps every time it hits the ground. And when I finally hid the bird because it was making my head throb, he decided to go upstairs and poke a hole in Bubba's Thomas the Train ball pit. Wonderful.

He also wants outside but I think he's too young so we spend half of our time trying to keep him from shooting out any open door. And he has escaped, oh yes he has! Partly because Spencer moves at a snail's pace when he goes out to pee. And then I spend 15 minutes hunting him down in the backyard while avoiding Spencer's poopy landmines!

Tonight, Mamaw sprung for Boston Market and McDonalds and just when Bear was biting into a nugget, Minor jumped onto the table and tried to snatch it with his mouth. They stayed in a mouth-to-mouth nugget tug of war until I lept across the room, grabbed him and shoved him into the basement. We ate our dinner listening to a chorus of meowing. He put on quite a performance. It was dramatic and soprano and sounded like he was practicing for his operatic debut of "The Magic Flute". We cleaned the table, making sure to discard any chicken debris before we let him back upstairs but just 5 minutes later I caught him running through the house with a chicken bone in his mouth. He had opened the trash can, climbed inside and found the scrap. I seriously considered letting him choke on it.

*sigh*

I swear cats are like children. When they are babies they are cute and cuddly and sweet but then they turn into toddlers and they dig through your plants and spread poop through your house and refuse to eat anything you put in front of them. Then they turn into kids who whine and complain and defy you at every turn. Then they get to be teenagers and can't wait to get the hell out of the house so that they can run around the neighborhood trying to get a piece of tail and fight with anyone on their turf. It's about right now that I'm thankful for Tyson (our old cat) who has rounded into retirement age. Sure, she's grumpy and hormonal and always seems to be constipated but at least she sleeps most of the day and stays out of my hair!

I know, I know. I asked for it. I totally deserve it. If I could, I would kick myself in the shins. The same shins that are scabbed up from Freddie Krueger Minor's razor sharp claws being stabbed into my legs, ripping the flesh from my bones. You know, both Howie and Birdie are borderline ADHD. I just know it's God's twisted joke to give me a ADHD cat to serve as a cherry right on top of my crazy family sundae!

Zumba and Mamaw The Comedienne

Ugh. I did NOT want to get up this morning and go to spin class. The Olympics are killing my sleep routine. I used to be in bed and asleep by 9pm. Now I'm lucky if I hit the sheets at 12am. And then I toss and turn because by that time I've gotton my second wind so I stay up and watch shows like "Me And My Breasts", a documentary about women considering breast reduction surgery. Riveting.

But I did get up this morning, dragging my sorry, lazy ass across the room looking for my biker shorts. I missed my last spinning class because Birdie and I started taking Zumba on Wednesday nights together. She's hysterical to watch but she's quite the little dancer. She gyrates and shakes her groove thing with the best of them. Then she collapses onto the workout mats at the back of the room and pants like a sweaty dog. It's super fun and we have a blast together. It's like our little mother-daughter date night. Here's a little video about Zumba for you to observe:



Anyway, back to this morning. After class I zoomed over to pick up Mamaw who needed to get her blood drawn this morning. She was mighty chiper for 6:45 in the am. I signed her in and we sat in the waiting room...

Mamaw: "Are we the only one's in here?"
Me: "No, there are 5 other people."
Mamaw: "Are there any good looking guys in here?"
Me: *looking around* "There's only one".

At this point the only two men in the room look at one another, trying to size each other up and figure out which one of them I think is good looking.

Mamaw: "Well then" *checks breath*

I should mention that we are in a small waiting room so everyone in the room, including the office staff, can hear our conversation.

Me: "Don't be a dirty old woman."
Mamaw: "Who you calling OLD!"
Me: "Well, if the shoe.."
Mamaw: "You, HUSH."
Blood Tech: *calling Mamaw's name*
Mamaw: "That's us, sister"

We walked back to the bloody torture chamber blood drawing rooms and I got her settled into a monstrosity of a chair.

Tech: "Please make a fist"
Mamaw: *Pumping fist* "How long you been doing this?"
Tech: "A very long time."
Mamaw: "How long? I don't want one of those new people that don't know what the hell they're doing."
Tech: "I've been doing this since 1979 so you're in good hands."
Mamaw: "We'll, see."
Tech: *wipes Mamaw's arm with a alcohol swab*
Mamaw: *turns head* "I can't look."
Me: "You can't see even if you do look, crazy old woman."
Mamaw: *giving me dirty looks*

It's a good thing her eyes are broken or else her dirty looks might have actually sent beams of fire shooting across the room and killed me right there on the spot.

It's only 9:30am and I've already had enough excitement. I wish I could go back to bed but Howie's company picnic is today and first I need to pack ten gazillion bags full of extra clothes, towels, lovey toys, sippie cups, sunscreen, sunglasses, diapers, wipies, snacks, and our kitchen sink and then we will be attempting to keep the kids from screaming bloody murder all day and calm them down long enough to actually have a good time. Right. Something tells me that by 2pm they will be escorting us to the gate and kicking us swiftly on our asses as a polite way to tell us to "get your crazy ass children the hell out of here!"

Have a great Wednesday!

Sunday, August 17, 2008

The Mommy Olympics


Howie and I have been watching copious amounts of the Olympics. We tivo what we can't get to on any given night and then overdose the next day. My favorite sports are track, swimming (including diving), gymnastics and cycling. I also really enjoyed watching the marathon last night. Those women just blew my mind because being a "runner" myself, if I can even call myself that, I understand how difficult it is to do what they are doing. Lets put this into my perspective shall we? I run 5K races, which is 3.1 miles. I run at a pace of about 11-14 minutes per mile. By the end of the first mile I think I might die. By the end of the second mile I know I am going to die. By the end of the third mile I am DYING. The endurance that it takes and the pain that your body feels during those miles is something that most sain people avoid. That's for THREE miles. I can't even imagine what it takes to do that for TWENTY SIX miles! And they finished the race in less than 2 and a half hours which means they were running at over 12 miles per hour for the entire time. Just unbelievable. The crazy thing is that I would LOVE to at some point be able to do a marathon. Just for shits and giggles. And if I'm lucky, I would finish it in exactly two and a half DAYS!

We fast forward through things like kayaking and rowing. Then there are a bunch of "sports" that sound less like they should be on an Olympic roster and more like they should be played in the backyard during a family picnic. Things like Handball and Table Tennis and Trampoline. Seriously, Trampoline? I have a hard time taking that "sport" seriously. Yes, trampoline bouncing is something that we do in the summer time but when did that become an official Olympic sport? What next, slip-n-slide? Wouldn't that be cool? There would be a large row of people standing on top of a hill, bouncing up and down and shaking their arms to get ready for their "run". They would each have a lane which would really be a long, wet slip-n-slide with a big puddle at the bottom. They would take their mark, get set and a gun would fire and they would catapult their bodies onto the slip-n-slide, rushing down the hill at break-neck speed. And when they reach the puddle, the camera would go in slow motion and focus in on their grimaced faces as they splashed into the duck-shaped puddle. Damn straight, I'd watch THAT!

The other sport I have a problem with is shot put. I've never really understood this activity, even as a track and field event. You know that the serious athletes there in Beijing are looking at the shot put guys like they shouldn't even be there. Mainly because while the swimmers and runners are getting massages and throwing back energy drinks, the shot put guys are gorging themselves on Moo Shoo pork and egg rolls. Yet, they take it so seriously! It's like, yes...I am an amazing specimen of athletic brilliance...watch me spin around this little circle and throw this big, heavy ball over there. Look at me, I'm a big man who can throw a big ball, aren't I wonderful? Oh, I'm dizzy!

You know what I think? They should have the motherhood Olympics. The event roster would look something like this:

Endurance
1. 24 hour labor without drugs
2. Going 5 years or more on less than 5 hours sleep per night
3. Listening to a whining child for 8 hours straight without strangling them
4. Waiting for a 3 year old to poop
5. Watching one million consecutive hours of Spongebob Squarepants

Speed
1. Taking a bath in under 30 seconds
2. Dressing, feeding and packing 3 kids into a minivan by 8:00 am
3. Having sex while kids are yelling on the the other side of the door "what are you doing in there?"
4. Changing a baby's diaper before a toddler eats a cat turd
5. Grocery shopping, mailing bills, picking up a prescription and putting gas in the car and still get to the bus stop on time

Strength
1. Walking through a mile-long parking lot with a 30 pound kid on each hip
2. Holding down a screaming toddler while they get their booster shots
3. Lifting laundry baskets that weigh 4 tons
4. Moving a 50 pound sleeping child from a car set, up a flight of stairs and into bed
5. Not crying when your 5 year old says she likes Daddy better than you

I think that all mommies should be given gold metals at the end of the day even if we're off by one-hundreth of a second!

How bout you guys, what are your favorite events? Do you think that Michael Phelps will come back in 2012 and try to beat his record? Will he be able to? What event would you add to the motherhood Olympics? Who would you kill to have Dara Torres' washboard abs?

Thursday, August 14, 2008

Illegal In Most States

I caught my kids doing THIS today:


I'm pretty sure what they are doing is highly illegal in most states with the exception being West Virginia. My initial reaction was to vomit and tell them to "stop that right now or else I will cut your tongues out with this rusty garden shovel in my hands!"

My reaction was so intense that they immediately started giggling and doing it over and over again. They were all, "lets twist our tongues together until she has no choice but to vomit her intestines and gouge her own eyes out." Ugh. *shivers* It's going to take washing my eyes out with industrial strength Clorox to get this image out of my head!

But I got the final laugh because I captured it all on digital camera and when they are teenagers I will have this picture transferred to roll upon roll of wallpaper and cover our formal living room with it. Then I will invite all their friends over and serve them them tea and cookies in said living room. Muah ha ha! :-)

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

Whatever You Do, Don't Tell Howie I Told You This


Howie is a manly man. He's big, has a strong, deep voice and can be a bit intimidating with his shaved head and arms covered in tattoos from shoulder to elbow. He emits manliness and I love that about him. His manly presence was one of the first things that attracted me to him.

So it was kind of a surprise when one day after I had been dating him about a year, a little known fact about him accidentally slipped out of his ex-roomate. We were visiting with Dan when he casually mentioned something about the movie theater Dan worked at when they were in high school. After taking a long puff of his cigarette and squinting he said, "remember that Becky chick that used to come to all those midnight showings of 'The Rocky Horror Picture Show?'" He lost me at "Rocky Horror Picture Show" because up until them I knew Howie to only watch things like hockey, old re-runs of "Shaft" and every episode of Sabado Gigante that featured half-naked women dancing in spiked heels.

Howie's face hardened and his eyes fixed onto Dan's face who by this point had gone completely white. Apparently this was a secret never to be uttered between them and here Dan had let it flow out all over Howie's new girlfriend.

"You watched the Rocky Horror Picture Show", I ask casually while trying to stifle a smile. "How many times?"

*silence*

He turned the recliner around to face me and put his hands on his knees like he was about to deliver some really bad news. "Okay, so I used to have this thing with the movie. I watched it every night for 3 months. Look, there was nothing better to do and..."

I couldn't contain myself. I started giggling uncontrollably while he threw his body back on the recliner and let out a huge sigh and said "thanks, Dan...you f*cker."

I felt bad for my poor, embarrassed Howie and a compulsive need to air some of Dan's dirty laundry overwhelmed me. You see, a few weeks before I had made a juicy discovery about him. I found out that he was a closet Sarah McLaughlin fan. He claimed, in the company of his guy friends, to only listen to Slipknot and Nine Inch Nails. I had caught him singing "In The Arms Of An Angel" in falsetto while dancing around half-naked the living room. He swore me to secrecy and while I made no promise not to tease him mercilessly about it, I did say I wouldn't utter a word of it to anyone else.

"Well, Dan likes to sing Sarah McLaughlin songs while dancing in his underwear."

At this point Dan's face went from white to red and I noticed the blood flowing up his neck as he drew his finger across it, letting me know that he was going to kill me in my sleep. Howie was taken by surprise. Partly because the spotlight had been taken off him and pointed square at Dan and partly because Dan was by this point trying to hide behind the entertainment center. He burst out laughing, stopping only to gasp for breath until Dan told him to "f*ck off". He left shortly afterwards to "go buy some cigarettes" but we all knew he was going to lick his wounds.

When we were alone Howie gave me a huge hug. It was never spoken but we both understood that he was grateful I took the pressure of of him by throwing Dan under the bus. Of course I did, I love him. But not enough to keep me from smiling an evil grin and suggesting we watch "The Rocky Horror Picture Show" every time he says, "so what do you feel like watching tonight?"

So tell me, are you good at keeping secrets? Have you ever accidentally let one slip? I recently learned that Howie is a big Christina Aguillera fan too. Although I suspect that might have something to do with her boobies and spiked heels :-)

Monday, August 11, 2008

The Morning After

I just got home from a walk. A nice walk during which Birdie rode her bike while Bear leaned over her stroller to pick wayward dandelions. It had been a while since I let Birdie ride all through the neighborhood because the last time she crash landed on a street corner and refused to get back on her bike. That meant that I had to pull her bike and push Bear up a monstrous hill while listening to her scream that her fall had fulfilled the last requirement necessary to unleash the apocalypse.

It was the perfect day for a walk; cool and breezy. The only downfall was the mosquitoes. After their grand attack in the spring, they died off a bit but our unseasonably wet July brought them back. Bastards! I opted for a walk instead of the gym this morning because I was up many times last night. Howie was sick to his stomach most of the weekend and it hit him full throttle last night. I went out around midnight to buy him Pepto and Tums which afforded us a couple hours of sleep but then he got paged and his stomach reared up again. I never really know how much pain Howie is in because lets face it, he's a man. His "please promise you won't give my golf clubs to your next husband" cries of deathly pain are probably akin to my stubbing my toe but I love him and I try to baby him. Between that and the thunderstorm that rolled in around 2 a.m. I didn't get much sleep. Spencer is afraid of thunderstorms and at the sound of the first thunder crash, he raced up the stairs and whined at our door until I let him in. I'm pretty sure he would have climbed into our bed, crawled into my arms and sucked on one of my boobs if I would have let him! I finally got him calmed down around 3 am but it wasn't long after he fell asleep that he started having nightmares. I swear the poor dog has night terrors. His yelps lead me to believe someone is shaving him with an epilady in his sleep! When the alarm went off at 5:30, I nearly cried.

It's a perfect day. It's cool, a breezy 72 degrees with a sunny sky which as I type this is clouding over. I even heard a few thunder rumbles and it does seem to be darkening up a bit. These kinds of days remind me of the fall and I can't believe that time is already around the corner. Even though the summer has been wonderfully mild, I won't mind greeting the fall. It's something about about those cool, dark days that make me want to make chili, slip into my comfy pajama pants with an over sized sweatshirt and read a book. I'm actually in the middle of a terrific book called "Midwives". I had seen it before and apparently it was one of Oprah's picks but it didn't appeal to me at the time. But the other day the mom's club held a book swap and it looked interesting to me so I picked it up and haven't been able to put it down since. I highly recommend it and I haven't even finished it yet!

The rain will probably prohibit us from outdoor adventures today and that means I should clean the basement or iron clothes but I might lend credence to the myth that stay-at-home moms get to watch daytime television and instead curl up on the couch and watch some recorded Olympics. What is it about watching the Olympics that makes me want to sit there watching it while eating a bag of chips?

Sunday, August 10, 2008

August Tenth


August tenth is my mom's birthday. She would have been 56 years old today. You know, it always seemed like she was so much older, wiser. I guess that's how we always see our parents, as being "old". The truth is that she was only 23 years older than me and when she died she was 55. I think of that number now and it seems so very small, so young.

Last week made 8 months since she has passed and I'm astonished at how much has changed yet how much has stayed the same. On one hand I can see that I have adjusted somewhat. I don't reach for the phone to call her the second the kids do something cute or hysterical. Hers is not the number I dial when I have a few moments of peace and simply want to talk. Howie says that it's a good thing and I should be proud that I have had the courage to move on but it doesn't feel that way to me. It feels like such a betrayal to forget her. It's not that I have totally forgotten her, I still think of her often but not nearly as much and I worry that there will be a time when days will go by that I don't think of her. It's such a sad thing. It's like she is stuck back there in the day she passed and the time train is separating us moment by moment, day by day and soon I won't be able to map the lines of her face in my memory.

On the other hand the pain of being without her is just as fresh, an open wound. It still sears every time I see her photo or have a vivid dream of her. The tears still rest in my chest waiting for the slightest provocation to charge full throttle up my neck and into my face, unleashing a torrential flood from my eyes.

In a cruel twist of fate, I received a letter yesterday from the people who made my mom's headstone. Knowing that I live far away and wouldn't be able to see her headstone, they took a picture and mailed it to me. It's beautiful. One on side is a set of praying hands and on the other an outline of the Virgin De Guadalupe. I chose it for two reasons. First, my mom always enjoyed volunteering for the festival that our church had every year in celebration of the Virgin De Guadalupe. Secondly, my mom was buried on December 9th, the day Our Lady of Guadalupe was celebrated this year. I know she would be pleased with what I chose. It surreal to see the gravestone, so solid and permanent. Like there is no denying it now since it's etched into 3 feet of limestone.

I've been trying to keep myself busy today. I slept in and then cleaned the house. I did umpteen loads of laundry, organized toys, cleaned floors and bathrooms. I changed the kitty litter and fish tank water and baked cookies. I'm now making dinner. A recipe courtesy of Maniacal mommy; boiled dinner. It's cabbage, carrots, potatoes and ham boiled together in a stew of sorts. I can smell the cabbage bubbling in the background and it makes me a little hungry even though I've had a queasy stomach all day. It's probably because I've been stifling "the ugly cry" from coming out and overflowing like a broken dam. But I don't have time for that now. I've got dinner to serve and dishes to wash, kids to bathe and tuck into bed. Tonight when all the chores are done and the house is quiet I will slip into the shower and cry until my head pounds. It's what I do every time a special day like mother's day or my first birthday without my mom rolls around. It sounds painful but really it's a great way to purge myself of the grief. I always feel better afterwords.

Wednesday, August 6, 2008

Peace Out!

I think we've figured out what happened to the damn cat. He had been jumping into Spencer's food bucket and gorging himself on Iams (maturity formula) dog food. Apparently, food made for old dogs does not digest well in a young cat's belly! He seems to be doing a lot better and seeing as how his insides have not exploded for a couple of days we might let him back upstairs but he will still be sleeping in the basement at night for a while!


Did you know that peace lilies are poisonous? I found this out the hard way. I caught Bear with a peace lily bud in her mouth. I don't know how long it was in there but it must have only been seconds. I flushed her mouth out and wondered if it was a poisonous plant so I checked online and sure enough. I called poison control and they said it is mostly poisonous because the buds, when burst in your mouth, will create a fire-like sensation that feels like hot molten lava is running through your mouth. Then, if you're lucky, your mouth will swell shut and you won't be able to breathe and that's when the fun starts! The poison control lady told me to watch Bear carefully and if started screaming that meant that I should be worried. We watched her like a hawk and either she has an extremely high pain tolerance (unlikely) or she didn't actually chew the buds. Whew! It was a close call and I will definitely be putting my peace lily somewhere very high and unreachable to my children which means that I will have to create a nice spot for the plant on THE ROOF or maybe higher!

I went back to the doctor's office yesterday so they could check my blood pressure. Luckily, the water pills are doing the trick and my bp is back in line for the most part. It's still seems high to me but is in the "acceptable range". I had him check my neck and nose because I've been having some major pain and I didn't know if I pulled a neck muscle or perhaps popped an eardrum or part of my brain died...you know, something that would cause that much pain. Turns out I have a raging sinus infection. Yay! Now I'm going on antibiotics and if I'm really lucky they will cause me to get a yeast infection. Seriously, why do I get to have all the fun?

We finally got a clearance to drink the water without fear of ingesting fecal matter. I never realized what a godsend it is to have running water until I didn't have it. It's one of those things we take for granted until it's stripped away from us and then we finally appreciate the subtle blessings of being able to brush your teeth without boiling the water first! I should be relieved that we can finally drink the water but part of me is still scared because now I'm aware of exactly what is in the water and it kind of turns my stomach. It's kind of like when a bug crawls on you and you freak out and brush it off. For hours afterwards you feel bugs crawling on you and it gives you the heebee jeebees. Why did they have to take away my innocence? Before, I was blissfully unaware...drinking gallons of water straight from the tap without worry. I think I will never be the same again :-( You know what the bitch of it is? We just got our monthly water bill! For ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS! That means we will be paying ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS for water that we couldn't drink, use to cook with, brush our teeth with, give to our animals or bathe in (without being covered in coliform). I think we should totally be given a refund. Or at least a discount for crying out loud!

Well, I should get to scooting. I have a mom's club meeting this morning at the library. As of right now I have no agenda, no sign in sheets printed, nothing organized. I'm basically going to stand in the middle of the room with my thumb up my nose while the women stare at me. And then someone will grunt and I'll be all "what, you gotta problem with me mama? How's bout we take this into the 'fiction' section?"

Or maybe I'll just cry. It's a toss up :)

A Stinky Shit Storm

Sometime during the wee hours of Sunday morning, a storm was brewing inside of Minor's belly. I don't know what it was but it was apocalyptic! When I woke up on Sunday I literally stepped into a pile of shit. My first thought was to blame Spencer and officially kick him out of the house. He would then be homeless and would have to resort to either selling oranges on the side of the highway or starting up a meth lab in an old abandoned house on the wrong side of town.

But the shit went under the bed and only one creature in this house can fit in such confined crevices. Minor! He shit all through our room, down the hallway, in Bears room, through Birdie's room, on the stairway, under the end tables and recliners in the family room, down the small set of stairs, across the playroom, through the kitchen, on the formal dining room rug and even in my office chair!! It was like the cat's intestines exploded in a Hiroshima-like shit bomb that left debris all through our house.

We ended up spending the ENTIRE day cleaning. I shampooed the carpets. TWICE. Howie cleaned the hardwood floors and cleaned the spots on the walls. Yes you heard me right... THE WALLS! There were also little droplets on the baseboard heating vents and even on one kitchen counter! I literally want to just set my house on fire and start over again because it feels like no amount of cleaning will make me feel safe.

I totally give Howie props for not pointing at me and saying "God Damnit, this is why I didn't want to get a f*cking cat!" He hasn't said that to me...yet. But I'm sure he has totally thought of ways to kill me (and the cat) in our sleep.

Minor has been quarantined to the basement where he shall stay until his bowels stop exploding. We don't know if he ate something random that made him sick or maybe he had a drop of contaminated water even though I'm sure I boiled all the animal's water. Howie said he didn't care if the cat rotted in the basement. I think his exact words were..."he can rot to death in the f*cking basement for all I care. Bones. Dust." *blows on palm of hand*

All I have to say is that the next animal (or person) that decides to take a shit in this house better make sure they are aimed right at a toilet or litter box or else they face certain death. I will personally sit them in the driveway, shove a stick of lit dynamite up their ass and suck on a cigarette as I watch the fireworks make all the pretty, pretty colors.