redirect

Tuesday, May 30, 2006

The Devil has a new Playground

My good friend The Devil has a new Playground and it looks amazing!

So y'all should head over there and spend some time checking it out.

Ya know, play on the swings, climb the monkey bars, go down the slide. All that good stuff.

Tell him I sent ya.

Have fun!

i said... what? at 11:32 AM / 1 had to say... what? / Links to this post / Home

The buck stops here

It’s settled. I have to go shopping. Somehow I have to figure out the money, go buy some clothes that fit me, and stop obsessing about my weight.

It’s for the future positive self image of Big Guy as much as for me.

As I was putting the boysies in bed last night, Big Guy asked me if he was fat. He was sitting up in his bed, playing with the rolls on his tummy, as he asked me.

{{Sound of Mom’s breaking heart}}

This was after a weekend of watching mommy change her clothes repeatedly trying to find something flattering to wear.

At one point he asked me why I kept changing my outfit. My response was that I had put on a little weight, my clothes were not fitting correctly, and I was looking for something that was comfortable.

As you can imagine, I was not the happiest of campers when I responded to him.

Big Guy is just that, a big guy. He was 10lbs at birth; he’s been off the charts his entire life. At eight years old, he is just under 5 feet tall and he weighs about 95lbs. He is NOT fat, but he doesn’t have muscle tone in his stomach either. Which, HELLO, is completely normal for an 8yr old.

I immediately told him that he was not fat. That he should never think that way about himself. We talked about why I am always bugging him to go outside and play. That if he continues to do things like play soccer, baseball and kickball he’ll always be healthy. How swimming this summer is going to make him stronger. That we always need to have a good balance between healthy food and junk food. That he shouldn’t compare himself to his friends, (who all happen to be peanuts) that they're small and have different body types than he does. What’s important is being healthy. If you’re healthy, you’re not going to be fat.

By the end of this conversation, Big Guy was smiling and happy again. Crisis averted.

Mom is going to have to learn how to take her own advice, because I WILL NOT PASS THIS DISEASE ALONG TO MY SONS!

i said... what? at 11:16 AM / 14 had to say... what? / Links to this post / Home

Monday, May 29, 2006

Memorial Day is not just for our Soldiers

Reading a post over at Kvetch Blog earlier inspired me to share this story. After all, it is Memorial Day, and the people that lost their lives on 9-11-01 deserve to be memorialized as much as our fallen soldiers.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
9-11-01

L picked me up a little after 8AM to take us to Logan airport. We were both headed into NYC for work, and had managed to coordinate our shuttle flights.

Sort of.

I was on Delta, she was on U.S. Air, and our flights were scheduled a half an hour apart, but it still allowed us to travel to the airport together. Which meant we could utilize the carpool lane into Boston, saving us quite a bit of travel time (and aggravating traffic time.) We chatted the entire way into town, never bothering to turn on the radio, because we had so much to discuss.

B and I were still together at this point, but we were fighting constantly. I was becoming increasingly frustrated with the situation. L has always been my go to girl for advice, so most of our time in the car was spent discussing my options.

We arrived at Logan around 9:15, parked in central parking, and went our separate ways. As I approached the Delta terminal I noticed a gentleman sitting outside, smoking a ciggarette.

He looked at me and said "You're not getting to New York today."

I didn't respond outloud, but my brain did: "How do you know I'm going to New York, and what the fuck are you talking about?"

I hurried past him, into the ground level of the Delta terminal, and looked up at the board of scheduled flights.

Cancelled

Cancelled

Cancelled

All the way down the list it went. Every flight cancelled. Not delayed, cancelled. I was terribly confused. I went upstairs, approached the desk, and asked for an explanation.

I got nothing.

Except that, yes, all flights have been cancelled and no further information was available at this time.

I called L's cell. She picked up on the first ring and before I could get out a word, she said "You too?"

"My flight's been cancelled. Yours too?"

My call waiting beeped in, I checked the display, saw it was B, and told L I'd call her right back.

I clicked over.

"Hey. What's up?"

"Oh my G-d! Oh my G-d! Oh my G-d! Thank G-d you're okay!"

"What?" (I was definitely irritated at his histronics because I had no idea what the fuck he was talking about.)

"A plane hit the Twin Towers! It came from Boston. I thought you were on that plane!"

"My plane isn't scheduled to leave until 10:30, how could I have been on that plane? What are you talking about?"

"A plane hit the Twin Towers. It crashed right into it. I bet it was terrorists!"

"B, calm down. I'm sure it was just a terrible accident. Why do you always have to think the worst?" (As we would all later find out, his negativity was actually right on target, this time.)

I told him I had to call L back and figure out what we were going to do. I'd speak to him later.

Because L & I had no idea of the magnitude of what had happened, and were completely dedicated to our jobs, we proceeded to try and make other arrangements to get into NYC. I called Amtrack while she made her way over to the Delta terminal to meet me.

By the time she arrived I had realized that there was no way we were getting to NYC that day (another prophecy come to fruition.) We decided it was probably a better idea to just head back to the South Shore.

The ride back home was spent in silent reflection. We were both too stunned to speak. There was very little information coming from the radio; we were still in the dark as to what was going on.

We arrived at my house and turned on the television. The Today show was still broadcasting, and was showing footage of the Towers crumbling at that exact moment. I turned and looked at L.

"What is that? That can't be right! That's a joke, right?"

The message light on my machine was blinking. It was my mom. I was supposed to be staying with my parents that night. My mother was hysterical on the phone, begging me to call her. I picked up the phone to call her back, my eyes still glued to the wreckage on TV.

Watching the Towers fall, over and over again.

The phone rang a fast busy. (As it continued to do for the next few days. It was three days before I was able to speak to anyone in my family.) I tried a few more times before I hung up and looked over at L.

She was on her cell, tears streaming from her eyes.

L was a buyer for TJ Maxx before she moved to the South Shore and had her second child. The daily commute back and forth from Metro West was brutal. Tired of dealing with it, she had quit just months earlier.

The call was to tell her that one of the flights from Boston was filled with her friends from TJ's. Wives and mothers all. Had she still worked for them, she would've been on that flight as well.

We ended up at the beach that day. Smoking weed and reflecting on our lives. It was when and where I realized that my marriage could not continue in its current state. It was over. I needed to tell him to leave.

Because not only is life much too short to be unhappy, you never know when it might be snatched out from under you.

I was very lucky that day. I could've lost my brother.

Grumpy was in Building 7 early for a conference call and witnessed both planes crashing into the Towers. He was able to evacuate and escape with only the demons he will live with for the rest of his life.

The ironic thing was that it was a beautiful, sunny day here in small town suburbia.

Not so much in NYC.

G-d Bless all that were associated with, or effected by that horrific day. My thoughts and prayers will always be with you.

i said... what? at 8:42 PM / 15 had to say... what? / Links to this post / Home

Sunday, May 28, 2006

You were expecting... what?

I’m sure y’all have been waiting with baited breath to hear the rest of my bitchfest.

(Not!)

Well then, I’m sure you’ll be surprised to learn, while the issues from my previous post still exist, they’ve been replaced with a sense of calm.

Seriously.

Part 3 of my earlier bitchfest, which I didn’t get to, was the anxiety I was feeling over my plans for the remainder of today, after the boysies’ baseball game.

B called earlier today to invite the boysies and I to a barbeque that his friends were having this evening (B and the boys went last year, without me, of course.) His friends live in my town and are part of the clique that has consistently snubbed me for the past four years.

Let me interject a small clarification before I continue.

Any woman living in small town suburbia as a “single mom” will tell you, at least when it comes to dealing with other mom’s, your equivalent is the plague.

You are a representation of everything they don’t want to be. Include any semblance of attractiveness to your persona; you’ve just added “threat” to your repertoire.

It makes isolation sound like a party.

I didn’t know what to expect this evening. Would these women be nice to me? Speak to me even?

They never have before.

Because I’m the one who destroyed B’s life and took his family away from him (at least that’s what I assumed they’d heard.)

On the flip side, their husbands always talk to me.

Which, actually, makes it worse.

Because then, the automatic assumption is that “I’m after them.”

Which, I’m not.

But, does anyone take the time to get to know me, and know that I’m not that kind of person?

Of course not. That would be non-judgmental and rational. We don’t have that here.

We just have bitches.

It’s a new money town with a new money attitude.

I know, I chose to live here.

(For me it’s all about the schools. (And the beach, but mostly about the schools.) A town where the public schools are as good as private school and you don’t have to pay extra? Sign me up.)

(But, I’ve never been good with political bullshit, and small town politics are the worst.)

Anyhoo, back to the barbeque…

Look at that, I show up with B, suddenly I’m acceptable. There are women making nice to me, making small talk, asking about my kids even.

Holy shit.

Have I died and gone to heaven?

Nope, only as far as, “Pull this leg and it plays Jingle Bells.”

Yes, it’s nice to feel accepted, but I know from whence it came. And I don’t trust it as far as I can throw it.

Yet, it left me feeling serene.

That I’ll take.

‘Cause serene is good right now.

i said... what? at 10:42 PM / 14 had to say... what? / Links to this post / Home

The bitchfest begins

I’ve been avoiding this rant like the plague.  But, the more I try and hide from it, the more anxious I become.

(You might want to stand back; this could get loud and ugly.)

Why is it that I’m supposed to not be worrying and obsessing about my weight when it’s finally getting warm outside?  If it was 20 degrees and I had to dress in layers, I wouldn’t be giving it a second thought.  But it’s not.  It’s 90 degrees and I need to wear shorts.  Unfortunately, my shorts are not letting me wear them, because they are too fucking tight.  And half this town treats me like trash already; I’m going to give them more fodder?  I’m thinking not.

Now, the rational part of my brain realizes that having size 2 shorts not fit, well, not such a big deal… the irrational side is telling me that I’m fat and I’d better stop eating right now.

I’m sure there are some of you out there asking why not just go buy some new shorts?

Right.

Let’s get to Part 2 shall we?

In the next month, along with my normal expenses of bringing up two growing boys, (who are always hungry!) I have to come up with my half of camp costs, which is $1,200.  Add to that, there are FOUR weeks between the end of school this year and the beginning of school next year that I don’t have boysies coverage for.  Which means we’ll need to hire a nanny.  That’s at least $400 a week.  Add another $800 to this tally for my half.

That’s not so bad you say?  Well, Big Guy needs three baby teeth extracted.  Yes, I have dental insurance that covers 80% of the surgery.  What it doesn’t cover is the $300 medication they have to give him to make him woozy enough to do the surgery!  Hence, another $425 to add to the mounting total.

I make a decent salary.  But all this extra shit is putting me in a position where I cannot spend a dime that isn’t an absolute necessity.  B and I share joint custody of the boys; we share their expenses.  But he’s fucking broke, and while yes, he just got a new job, one that actually pays him a salary plus commission, that’s not going to show an upside for a while.  And it’s still CIGARS for fuck’s sake.

Crap.  Gotta go to baseball.  I’ll finish this later.

i said... what? at 1:48 PM / 4 had to say... what? / Links to this post / Home

Saturday, May 27, 2006

How long before they're teenagers?

You would think that as the boysies get older, they’d want to sleep in. Not so much. My day started at 6AM with Little Dude at my bedroom door.

“Mommy, my bed is wet, can you dry it?”

“Did you have an accident buddy?”

“No, I spilt my water in it by mistake.”

“It’ll dry. I’m still sleeping.”

I refused to even open my eyes for this exchange.

He was back again at 7.

“Mommy, I’m hungry. Can I have peanut butter?”

“Sure. You can get it yourself.”

“But I can’t reach.”

“Use the stool, Mommy’s sleeping.”

Exactly an hour later I hear my door open again. I crack an eye open. Yep, he’s back.

“Mommy, when are you getting up?”

“I guess now, huh?”

I’ll say one thing, the little guy’s persistent, but at least he gave me some catnap time in between visits.

i said... what? at 2:40 PM / 4 had to say... what? / Links to this post / Home

Friday, May 26, 2006

Sold

Whew.

That’s me, breathing a sigh of relief. If the sale of the house goes through, which it should, I’ll have a new landlord in the next few months. He’s not only fine with us staying right where we are; he’s planning on living downstairs. Which means he might actually take care of the property. Someone that will mow the lawn, plow the driveways, and maybe make this place look a little nicer on the outside? Woot!

Did I mention he’s cute and single? (I think he's single. I didn’t see a ring but that doesn’t mean anything.)

And cute?

(Bad Stephanie! You’re not supposed to be noticing that! You’re supposed to be focusing on putting your family back together.)

(Brain, you can shut the fuck up, thank you very much. There’s nothing wrong with noticing a little eye candy.)

He was here with the realtor and home inspector when I got home with the boys this evening. He was very cordial, first apologizing for not having completed the inspection before we got there, then asking if there was anything that I was currently unhappy with. He confirmed a few times that we wanted to stay, and then introduced himself to Big Guy and Little Dude.

Who were more interested in how long it was taking me to get their snack on the table then shaking hands and introducing themselves.

“Little Dude.” He turns and looks at me. “Mommy! Can I have my Ruffles now… PLEASE?!”

Nice, huh?

There was one point where he came over to speak to me that I had to take a step back. Yeah, a close talker; I don’t like those much. (Yo, buddy, umm, reasonable distance please. We’re not on a date here.) To his credit, he got the hint; it only happened that once. When he was leaving he said he’d give me a call to go over all the details.

Did I mention he’s cute?

All of a sudden I have these fantasies floating thru my head…

This is the reason I’ve been living here. It’s destiny. I was supposed to meet him. We’ll get to know each other because he lives right downstairs. We’ll fall in love, the boys will adore him, and we’ll all live happily ever after.

He’s probably got a girlfriend. That’s always my luck.

(Brain, I told you to shut the fuck up!)

Maybe I’ll have to stop fixing things on my own and start asking for help.

He was the one that put that idea on the table, not me. I should take him up on it.

And maybe start wearing a little mascara on a regular basis again.

Ya think it’s been too long since I’ve dated or that I'm not really feeling it with B?

Yeah. 'Bout that.

i said... what? at 7:41 PM / 5 had to say... what? / Links to this post / Home

Favorite movie quotes Friday IV

I want a woman that will arouse my intellect as well as my loins.

I asked for a car, I got a computer. How's that for being born under a bad sign?

Fuck… Shit… Fuck this shit!

This isn't flying. This is falling, with style!

Hello! McFly!!

Snap out of it!

That’s alright, that’s okay… you’re gonna pump our gas one day.

I’ve got moves you’ve never seen before.

Do you think she hates me?
With a passion.
Do you think it’s the hat? A lot of people hate this hat, it angers them just at the sight of it.

People on ludes should not drive!

Well, I guess it goes from God, to Jerry to you to the cleaners. Right, Kent?

Over? Did you say "over"? Nothing is over until we decide it is! Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor? Hell no!
Germans?
Forget it, he's rolling.

May I have ten thousand marbles, please?

You're a fucking *psycho*.

Everybody's coming back to take stock of their lives. You know what I say? Leave your livestock alone.

How does he do it, you ask. How does … how does an average guy like me become the number one lover-man in his particular postal district? He's grumpy, he's broke, he hangs out with the musical moron twins...

Dear Diary, my teen-angst bullshit now has a body count.

The only place different social types can genuinely get along with each other is in heaven.

Love the bag, love the shoes, love everything. Love to!

What’s ‘e going to do? Nibble yer bum?

I'm pondering the immortal words of Socrates who said, "I drank what?"

What we've been doing lately is smoking massive amounts of drugs, binging on Entemann's and listening to old Pink Floyd CD's.

I like to mash snow. It gives me a tremendous feeling of self satisfaction.

Tito Puente's gonna be dead, and you're gonna say, "Oh, I've been listening to him for years, and I think he's fabulous."

Veronica, why are you pulling my dick?

(Y'all know how this works already. Leave yours in the comments if you'd like. I'd like ya to.)

i said... what? at 6:34 AM / 12 had to say... what? / Links to this post / Home

Thursday, May 25, 2006

I'm it

I’ve been tagged! I’m it!

The lovely Stefanie from Baby on Bored tagged me yesterday.

(If you guys haven’t checked out her site, do it. She’s very funny, and not your typical mommy blogger (kinda like me.) So, go on. Git. I’ll wait.)

I don’t usually participate in meme’s, but I think she’s great, so I’ll play along.

(Also, if I didn’t do this, my post today was going to be one long bitchfest, and I’m trying to avoid that.)

(Could I have any more asides this morning?)

Anyhoo, back to the meme…

The Three _____s on a Desert Island.

If you were stranded on a desert island (without Ginger and the Professor and all those folks to keep you amused), which three _____s would you bring?

Books: I only get to bring three? What’s up with that!?

1. Exodus by Leon Uris. I first read this book when I was 13 years old, and I own a first edition copy of it now (thanks daddy!) It’s an accounting of the Holocaust, and the subsequent creation of modern day Israel. It’s also an adventure and a love story. Fabulously and hauntingly written, it stays with you long after you finish it. It’s also a book that can be read time and time again and you’ll always find something new.

2. The Princess Bride by William Goldman. For those that have only seen the movie, READ the book. The movie is a classic, and one of the only books that has translated well to the big screen, BUT the book is better.

3. The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand. Because I’m in the middle of it, and would go crazy if I wasn’t able to finish it!

Albums/CD’s: With the invention of Ipod, isn’t this a little silly? But I digress.

1. Pearl Jam: July 11, 2003 Live at the Tweeter Center. I was at this show. It was one of the most amazing concerts I’ve ever seen. Eddie and the boys came out and did 13 acoustic songs, left to allow Sleater Kinney to play for an hour, and then came back and played for another two hours. (They publish all of their concerts on Pearljambootlegs.com and I immediately bought it.) It’s three CD’s altogether, and still my favorite album.

2. Gavin DeGraw: Chariot. The special edition, 2 CD set with the stripped versions of all the songs. This CD just hasn’t gotten old yet, and I love every song.

3. Sheryl Crow: The Very Best of Sheryl Crow. 'Cause I have to have my Sheryl.

People:

1. Josh Holloway: Sawyer from LOST. If I’m trapped on a desert island, I absolutely need to be getting some. Who better than my current ultimate fantasy (sorry, John Cusack, you’ve been replaced.)

2. Rudy Giuliani: If he can’t be president, he might as well be on the island with me regaling me with tales of his life and times.

3. L. ‘Cause I want my best friend with me.

Now I’m supposed to tag someone, right? I don’t feel right about this. I feel like I should ask them first. But that’s not how you play this game. So, Ali, Amy, and… let’s throw a guy in here for fun… Neil… Tag!

You’re all it.

i said... what? at 10:00 AM / 9 had to say... what? / Links to this post / Home

Wednesday, May 24, 2006

Must Love Jaws

N'uh Uh. No she d'n't.

Oh yes I did. I've become a sellout. I'm posting a video. But this thing is so frikkin' funny I have to.

Grumpy showed this to me last night, and I couldn't stop laughing. I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I did.

ETA: Not a Brokeback Mountain parody, and the music choices are priceless.

i said... what? at 8:48 AM / 9 had to say... what? / Links to this post / Home

Tuesday, May 23, 2006

Shoutout

I really want to thank The Bitches.

While Bitch Esq. gave me quite the spanking, and not in a good, yeah baby, kind of way, the traffic thru this blog has literally exploded since Sunday night. Not only are people staying and reading, but they're coming back too.

(Heya to the new readers! ) (Eric Stratton, rush chair, damn glad to meetcha.)

(Oh, and just so y'all know... comments, I love comments. Feel free to post your thoughts.)

So, Bitches...

Love ya! Kisskiss.

ETA: The review did not upset me. I fully expected to get what I got after I pissed off Bitter Bitch. The site is hilarious, I love their reviews, it's ALL good. And, if you read the comments, there were plenty of people who said they liked it. Including B.B. herself. Kthnxby.

i said... what? at 6:46 PM / 14 had to say... what? / Links to this post / Home

A lesson in what NOT to do

We’ve decided to take matters into our own hands. Kat is not capable of caring for herself right now, and if she can’t, we will. Because Rat Bastard is going to walk all over her if we don’t.

I am in a bit of shock over what I feel is pure stupidity on Kat’s part. She let Rat Bastard take care of everything in terms of money. She has no idea of:

His social security number.

Her checking account number.

How much money is in her checking account.

Who her mortgage company is.

This list goes on and on. She is living like it’s frikkin 1950! Kat, I love you, but how could you have kept yourself in the dark for so long?

And, to make matters worse, she’s still hoping for a reconciliation. Believes that maybe he’ll change his mind and come home.

This is the same man that leased an apartment 2 days after he moved out. Yeah, okay. He’s coming home. NOT.

Kat, Kat, Kat.

Quincy and I are convinced that Rat Bastard has been plotting for a while. He’s obviously aware of his wife’s lack of interest in their finances (“Jeff’ll just take care of it.” GRRRRR), we’re wondering how much he’s already squirreled away. Hundred grand? Two? It’s possible.

And it get’s worse. Another piece of information Kat let drop yesterday?

Rat Bastard hasn’t filed their tax return yet.

Did I mention he owns his own business and is really good with numbers?

Yah.

(Ladies, please make sure that YOU are always aware of your financial situation and have your OWN money. I implore you.)

Quincy and I decided last night that in order to protect Kat and give her some bargaining power against Rat Bastard she’s going to have to learn the truth. Not that we want to hurt her, but if she doesn’t get angry, and soon, he’s gonna have a field day in what he gets away with.

She needs to get her hand back.

L is writing an anonymous note and putting it in the mail today. It’s going to contain just enough details to open the door that needs to be opened.

Quincy and I will be around to pick up the pieces. Because, Kat will break from this information.

But she really needs to know. NOW.

Think I can get away with kicking Rat Bastard in the balls at baseball practice, and pretending it was an accident?

Or maybe I can have the boysies aim the ball at his head when they're throwing it to him.

Fucktard.

Asshat.

i said... what? at 11:34 AM / 10 had to say... what? / Links to this post / Home

Monday, May 22, 2006

Priceless

I’m helping Little Dude with his kindergarten reader homework this evening.

“What’s this word mommy?”

“Why don’t you sound it out? It’s pretty easy.”

He starts counting out the letters with his fingers, saying each letter sound, as he’s been taught to do.

“Ha”

“Aa”

“Sss”

He looks up at me with those big blue eyes of his.

“Ass?”

Really, I tried not to snicker.

i said... what? at 6:01 PM / 7 had to say... what? / Links to this post / Home

It's all about YOU today

If you're Grumpy, that is.

Happy Birthday Grumpy. I love you. We may not always see eye to eye, but you've ALWAYS been there for me when I've needed you. And for that, I want to thank you. I know that I can always count on you for your support, I hope you know it goes both ways.

The only pic I have of us together, so it'll have to do.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!

i said... what? at 10:07 AM / 6 had to say... what? / Links to this post / Home

Sunday, May 21, 2006

You think so, huh? Well, I'll show you!

I guess my Brain didn’t like the talking to it got this morning. (See below, I'm not linking to it.)

At about 7:15, after being awake for almost 3 hours, my body finally decided it was ready and able to go back to sleep. Little did I know what my Brain had in store for me.

It was one of those dreams that’s so vivid, you feel that you are an active participant; awake even.

I don’t know how long I was asleep before I heard footsteps, then panting, then whining beside my bed. In an instant, there was a dog on top of me, attacking me. I rolled over and burrowed under my blankets in order to try and protect myself. And yes, I will admit to being vain enough to make sure that my face was buried in my pillow. He began biting my feet and legs.

Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow!

(Hey, this is a dream, why does this actually hurt? I’m feeling real pain, pain as if a dog is biting me. That’s not supposed to happen in a dream!)

The entire time this is happening I am thinking, “This is a dream. There’s no way there could be a dog in here attacking me. I locked and dead bolted the doors before I went to sleep last night. How does a dog open a door anyway? This is a dream. Wake up and open your eyes. Wake up!”

But, I couldn’t force myself awake. Myself was just not having it. The dream continued, and the dog continued to gnaw at my feet and legs.

Did I mention this feels like it hurts a lot?

“C’mon. This is a dream. Wake up already!”

I open my eyes. The dog is gone. Thank G-d! Finally.

Flashity Flash Flash Cut.

I’m sitting on the floor in a living room, though, not MY living room.

“Shit. I’m still dreaming. What now?”

Oh, look. There’s another girl here. I guess I have a roommate in this dream.

And what’s your name pretty girl?

(Get your mind out of the gutters, I’m talking about the new dog that’s shown up and has immediately come up to me.)

The “roommate” looks vaguely familiar, but I can’t place her. Her dog makes her way into my lap where I begin to scratch behind her ears. Thank G-d, a friendly dog. Instead of looking to eat my feet for dinner, she immediately becomes putty in my hands and flips onto her back for a belly rub.

Oh, so you’re a little doggie slut?

Now my “roommate” speaks up to tell me to grab my stuff, we’re meeting people for breakfast.

Cool. I wonder if we’re going to Toast.

Flashity Flash Flash Cut

I’m now sitting in a restaurant (not Toast, boo) with three girls and a guy. Everyone looks vaguely familiar; like I’ve seen or met them before.

Suddenly it hits me. These are bloggers that I read. That’s how I “know” them, their pictures are posted on their profiles. Stranger still, it jogs my memory into realizing that they’ve all visited me before in a dream exactly like this one.

Could this get any weirder?

The service in the restaurant stinks, and I’m getting annoyed. I’ve got an empty cup in front of me that should be filled with coffee. I crane my neck around the restaurant hoping to spot a waitress. I do, and lift my cup in the air after I catch her eye. I get the Sonic Death Stare in return.

Okay, I’ll get it myself.

I get up from the table and head towards the back of the restaurant. I spot the coffee pot sitting on the burner and hurl myself towards it. I grab the handle, drop it and curse. WTF? Ow! (Why do I keep getting hurt in this dream?!) For some reason the handle of the coffee pot is about 100 degrees. Maybe this is why the waitress wouldn’t bring me coffee.

I walk back to our table to find my favorite Marc Jacobs handbag sitting on top of it. (At least I remember how to accessorize in my dreams.) There is also a half eaten omelet sitting in front of my chair.

Did I eat that? I don’t remember eating anything.

Turns out, it doesn’t matter.

Suddenly, there’s a progression of wait staff emerging from the kitchen, platters of food held high above their heads, heading towards us.

As they place the plates onto our table (which has suddenly tripled in size in order to accommodate all of this) I see that they are filled with different delicacies. Truffles, pastries and cookies are the first to be set down. Followed by Shrimp, lox, Canadian bacon, dried beef.

Wait. Dried beef? I’m having beef jerky for breakfast?!

That revolting thought was enough to bring me back to the land of the living. My eyes popped open, I rolled over and glanced at the cable box on top of the television in my room.

7:45 AM

You mean that was only 30 minutes?!

Crap!

i said... what? at 6:29 PM / 10 had to say... what? / Links to this post / Home

Just sayin

Umm, Brain, I'd like to have a little word with you. You see, it's Sunday. Sunday is supposed to be the day of rest.

(Yes, I know, not so much when you're Jewish. That would actually be Saturday. But then I wouldn't have a point here, so let's just go with it, shallwe? Mkay.)

Where was I?

Oh yes, the day of rest. Sunday.

You see Brain, there are no kids here this morning. No little ones to come bouncing in at the crack of dawn with their "Good Morning, Mommy's!"

(Or, more likely, "Mom! (insert either Big Guy or Little Dude here) is (doing insert your choice of a variety of behaviors here) to me! Can you make him stop?"

And, Brain, it isn't like the boysies aren't coming home this afternoon. So the possibility of me getting in a nap later, ya know, when I'm totally dragging ass... is not so much gonna happen.

So, Brain, I guess what I'm trying to say here is... why, oh why did you decide to wake me up at 4:30 this morning and not allow me to get back to sleep?

Oh yeah, how could I forget.

'Cause you suck.

i said... what? at 5:36 AM / 4 had to say... what? / Links to this post / Home

Saturday, May 20, 2006

Oopsie

I Major League pissed off BB at IT2M by questioning why someone's review had been done before mine in a comment I left.

So, now, I'm either gonna get the dead fish, the boot, negative smacks, a combination of all three, or never get reviewed at all.

Ah well. Live and learn.

I hope she doesn't think I take this shit seriously.

Hee.

5/21 ETA: [I give it (no smacks) and a genuine smack upside the head for wasting mine and Bitter’s time. If you’re going to whine about not getting a review, why don’t you give us a blog worth reviewing? Just sayin’. ]

My smackdown

Did I call this one, or what? Just sayin.

i said... what? at 3:30 PM / 4 had to say... what? / Links to this post / Home

Friday, May 19, 2006

Low man on the totem pole

I know buying accessories for a women’s retailer is kind of like being the stepchild in a family.

You’re not as important as the big player; you usually get last billing. Granted, if my business was worth $45.0M to the total, I’d be more of a priority. But it isn't; it’s more like $10.0M.

Which makes me low man on the totem pole.

Today was our monthly Open to Buy meeting. This one’s a big deal because new-mommy has instilled a couple of new top executives, one of which was sitting in on the meeting today. Because the focus is turning the Apparel business around, Accessories was scheduled to go last.

All I wanted to do was present my business. Someone asked me earlier in the week if I was nervous (this executive has a reputation as a hard ass.)

“Why should I be? I know my business, the numbers, and I know how to present it all. What's to be nervous about? Really, I’m just happy to have a true merchant here. One that will ask the tough questions instead of pontificating because he likes the sound of his own voice.”

I prepared recaps and numbers galore for this meeting. I wrote out my page of speaking points, to keep myself from going off on tangents. In other words, so ready to go.

My boss just came by. They’ve unearthed a few sticking points in the Knit and Sweater Division, and really need more time. Accessories has been cancelled.

Yep, that’s right. Cancelled.

My boss did mention that my EVP made a comment that she knew I had probably over prepared for this meeting, and that she felt badly.

But still.

Bastards.

i said... what? at 4:09 PM / 10 had to say... what? / Links to this post / Home

Friday Random Five

I've been spending my afternoon surfing blogs, waiting for my turn in Open to Buy. I'm bored, bored, bored...

(Bald, bald, bald. Bald as a ping pong ball, boy are you bald.)

(Name that quote and you win... oh I don't know... something)

Can I just say that there are some shitty ass blogs out there. But, there are some good ones too.

~Unsettled~

This one I like. And it's where I got this:

Friday Random Five:

Power up your digital music listening device, hit shuffle, and list the first five songs that pop up. That's it. No explanations, no nothing. It’s just a pure unadulterated look at our music collection. Lack of embarrassing selections will probably prove that you cheat.

This was mine:

1. When the stars go blue - Tim McGraw
2. Don't do me like that - Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers
3. I Know Why - Sheryl Crow
4. How sweet it is to be loved by you - Marvin Gaye
5. If it Makes you Happy – Sheryl Crow

Ya think I might have a little too much Sheryl on my Nano?

Nah. You can never have too much Sheryl.

(She says as the next song is The First Cut is the Deepest.)

So, what's playin' in yours?

i said... what? at 3:15 PM / 7 had to say... what? / Links to this post / Home

Favorite movie quotes Friday III

If you love something, set it free. If it comes back to you, it's, well, broken.

You can never go home again, Oatman... but I guess you can shop there.

Uh, I don't hear any real remorse, dude, I mean, like, I don't think I'd let him back into your life. And dude, I'd make him wear that prom dress!

I've been listening to my gut since I was 14 years old, and frankly speaking, I've come to the conclusion that my guts have shit for brains.

Ok, here's the deal. I have a hangover. Who knows what that means?
Doesn't that mean you're drunk?
No. It means I was drunk yesterday.

Your kids have all really touched me, and I'm pretty sure that I've touched them.

They took the bar, the whole fucking bar!

Hey, how come Andrew gets to get up? If he gets up... we'll all get up... it'll be anarchy!

Oh, obscene finger gestures from such a pristine girl!

Looks like you've been missing a lot of work lately.
Well, I wouldn't exactly say I've been missing it, Bob.

I believe you have my stapler.

Pull this leg and it plays Jingle Bells.

I refuse to date any guy whose ass is smaller than mine.

Now go away before I taunt you a second time.

Well, I believe in the soul, the cock, the pussy, the small of a woman's back, the hanging curve ball, high fiber, good scotch, that the novels of Susan Sontag are self-indulgent, overrated crap. I believe Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone. I believe there ought to be a constitutional amendment outlawing Astroturf and the designated hitter. I believe in the sweet spot, soft-core pornography, opening your presents Christmas morning rather than Christmas Eve and I believe in long, slow, deep, soft, wet kisses that last three days.

I can’t swim!
Are you crazy? The fall will probably kill you!

Dammit, why is everything we’re good at illegal?

Nobody drink the beer, the beer has gone bad!

I’m the king of beer. That’s right, the king of beer right here!

What’s your damage, Heather?

Lick it up, baby. Lick. It. Up.

Boy, don't make me open up a can of whoop-ass!

You passed out cigarettes for a smoke-a-thon on Earth Day. You installed speed bumps on the handicapped ramps and, most recently, you dumped 100 pounds of... MEAT on a peaceful vegan protest!
Oh, come on! That was way more than 100 pounds.

That's the beauty of college these days, Tommy! You can major in Game Boy if you know how to bullshit.

Wait a minute... no beer? Well, where the hell's Gutter?
Probably in a parking lot somewhere picking his nose.

Have you ever been wrong about anything before in your life?
Yes. Once.
The shoes, right? The shoes are tragic.

You know it’s dangerous for you to be here.
Why?
'Cause you could melt all this stuff.

If you’re here and I’m here, doesn’t it make it our time?

Well make up your mind dude. Is he going to shit, or is he going to kill us?
First he’s gonna shit, then he’s gonna kill us.

It’s only an island if you look at it from the water.

We’re gonna need a bigger boat.

You can't go. All the plants are gonna die.

No, we're not homosexual, but we are willing to learn.

Where is your drill sergeant, men?
Blown up sir.

No more yankie my wankie, the Donger need food!

I passed... then I failed.
Then I'm happy... and sad for you.

Your mother puts license plates in your underwear? How do you sit?

So you're the little neighborhood Lolita.
So you're the alcoholic high school buddy shit for brains.

You let her behind the curtain; I know you did. You never let them behind the curtain Will. You never let them see the little old man behind the curtain working the levers of the great and powerful OZ. They are all sisters Willie... they aren't allowed back there... they mustn't see.
Tell me the truth. You stay up nights thinking about this shit?
You say it like it's a bad thing.

Don't go mistaking paradise for a pair of long legs.

Any fool can get into college. Only a select few can say the same about Amanda Jones.

It must be a hen house, because all I see is chicken shit.

'Cause you're stupid. I always knew you were stupid.

I took out an ad for Christ's sake. And I ended up with the Jewish Sandra Dee.

(C’mon, quote with me again! Leave yours in the comments.)

i said... what? at 6:00 AM / 4 had to say... what? / Links to this post / Home

Thursday, May 18, 2006

Anyone got a gun?

'Cause you need to come over and shoot the fucking frog croaking like a motherfucker outside my window! (Dude, I'm horny too, but I'm not croaking about it!)

Yeah, I'm gonna get some sleep tonite. NOT.

Unless I make another martini.

Grey Goose anyone?

i said... what? at 10:37 PM / 4 had to say... what? / Links to this post / Home

Throw em all under the bus....

Yeah, I know it's about LOST.

I try to make it a rule that I don't blog about television. I broke that rule last week for the first time. I believe "Hell if I know" was my reasoning at the time.

Tonight I know the reason. They've made it personal. They made it about "the kid." Which, I know, is totally intentional. How better to reel in new viewers than to get them sucked into a "kid in peril" story.

I've been watching for a while. While I'm not a fan of the "Waaalllltttt" screaming Michael, if I was put in the situation that Michael has been put in, I would lead my friends into a trap too. I'd give up whomever they wanted in order to get my kid back. That is where this writing is true to your soul. And why I watch this show.

BTW - Bad Boat! Don't go near the boat!

i said... what? at 1:00 AM / 3 had to say... what? / Links to this post / Home

Wednesday, May 17, 2006

Understanding

Last night, after therapy, I headed over to Quincy’s house to pick her up. When I got there, I found her sitting in the driveway, inside her truck.

“You really didn’t want to go back inside after your appointment, huh?”

“Not so much. He can deal with the Spawn of Satan for an evening.”

Hee.

We headed over to Kat’s house, first making a pit stop for the food.

I had spoken to Kat a bit earlier, and mentioned the mexican food and margaritas to her. She told me that she wasn’t drinking due to the medication the doctor just put her on, but Quincy and I should feel free to indulge.

“What medication?”

“Xanax. For my anxiety. But they specifically told me not to drink. Also, I haven’t eaten in two days. And I really need to get some sleep. They say this will help me sleep.”

You know what’s gonna help her sleep? One of my famous margaritas. I stopped and got the booze I needed anyway. One wasn't gonna hurt her.

Quincy got into my car and we headed over to Kat’s. I wasn’t prepared for how she looked when she opened the door. I gave her a huge hug, which only started her crying again, so, I let her cry.

Quincy busied herself getting the food put out onto plates for us; I made a pitcher of margi’s. When we finally sat down at the table together, Kat really opened up about what had been going on. I was a little taken aback, as well as rendered speechless at times (yeah, I know, me, speechless? Inconceivable!) (Shut up, Grumpy. )

The thing is, she is B in this situation. Rat Bastard said and did some of the exact things I said and did to B when I told him I was done four years ago. Things like telling him that I had been unhappy for years, I dreaded being home with him, I cringed at any sign of affection he gave me.

Of course, I didn’t give B the added bonus of cheating on him, but I digress.

Listening to Kat cry about how her boys’ lives were going to crumble made me feel guilty all over again for what I put my own kids through with the separation. Which, of course, I voiced. This thought was immediately shot down by both Quincy and Kat (this is why I love my friends.)

“Umm, hello! You had a little different background and situation. You had to make that choice. Rat Bastard did not have to drive his kids to the bus stop, come home, pack a bag in front of his wife and 3 year old and leave.”

Yah. That’s what he did.

Fucktard.

Asshat.

She is devastated. For herself and for her children. But what scares me is that she’s still holding onto hope that he’s gonna come back. Change his mind and come home.

I tried to tell her last night… If that’s in the cards, which I don’t think it is, it’s going to be YEARS before it happens.

I felt like such a bitch. But I don’t want her walking around with a false sense that he’s coming home. Because I know he’s not.

(We’re not telling her the reason why, because I am not willing to hurt her that much, which some people may not agree with, but I will NEVER tell her what I know.)

She already fears being without her boys. Having time to herself that she doesn’t know how to fill. She’s also found the “envious” that I walk around with. As we were leaving last night she told us about it.

I gave her another hug and I told her that she can call me anytime day or night to talk about it, that I COMPLETELY understand.

‘Cause I do.

i said... what? at 2:15 PM / 3 had to say... what? / Links to this post / Home

My new home

Sandi at Lunastone Designs put up with my extreme pickiness and anal tendencies, and gave me a new home.

Now every time I open the page, I feel like I'm at my beach... and there's definitely nothing wrong with that!

Hope y'all like it too!

Thanks Sandi!!

i said... what? at 9:17 AM / 8 had to say... what? / Links to this post / Home

Tuesday, May 16, 2006

I'm "rarely stupid!" Yay!!

I asked Tabz over at Stupid People Shouldn't Breed to take a look at my blog and give me a review.

For those that haven't visited her site (she is listed on my blog stalking list) she reviews blogs and can give some really excellent feedback. I liked her style, so I asked her what she thought of mine.

So go check it out if you get a chance.

My review

C'mon, git.

i said... what? at 1:08 PM / 13 had to say... what? / Links to this post / Home

Circling the wagons

My friend Kat is one of those rare people. She is genuinely nice. Never has a bad word to say about even the worst people. Will always look for the good rather than the bad. She’s religious, but not in that obnoxious, shove it down your throat kinda way. She was also the first mom in my town to befriend me; take me under her wing and show me that there were some decent, non-judgmental people living here.

I don’t know Kat’s husband that well. Whenever Kat and I hang out, it’s a girl’s night thing (Quincy and L are usually there too.) I do know that they were college sweethearts, but she’s fairly private when it comes to talking about her personal life (I just figured that was a Catholic thing.) B hangs out with him at baseball; they both like to help out (unofficially) with the coaching. They've also recently made the connection that he buys cigars from B as well.

So when Kat invited B and I to her son’s first communion party this past Saturday, I figured it was a good way to get to know them better as a couple. Especially since B already had this connection with him, as well as the fact that B and I may end up as a couple again; we’re going to want some “couple” friends.

The party was lovely. Kat’s son did a happy dance with my boys after he opened the envelope containing the two crisp twenty-dollar bills we gave him. It was a hoot. The men watched over the kids, taking one short cigar break, and us ladies sat around with our sangria chatting about nothing. Until Kat’s husband decided to take a nap on the couch and left B watching the kids in the basement by himself. I rescued him, said our thank you’s and we were on our way.

Quincy called me yesterday at work. She needed to be cryptic, as her kids were in the back seat, but I finally figured out she was trying to tell me that Kat’s husband had packed a bag that morning and moved out. Just like that. No discussions, just done. Rat Bastard! Kat is in shock, devastated, doesn’t know what to do with herself. I’m in shock myself.

I called B on the way home from work yesterday to ask him if Rat Bastard had said anything to him about Kat. I filled him in on the details of the morning.

He let out a nervous laugh before he said, “Yeah, about that….”

“What? Please tell me. I’m just trying to understand what’s going on here. If you know something, please tell me.”

“Well, he came in on Friday to pick up a box of cigars and, well, really just TMI for only knowing him a short time.”

‘What do you mean?”

“He told me that he and Kat have been sleeping in separate bedrooms for over nine months now. That he met someone else, and is in love with this person. That he was planning on leaving.”

“Oh my G-d.”

“Oh, yeah. And this is the day before we’re supposed to be going to their house for the party. Do you see why I was hiding downstairs with the kids? I couldn’t talk to anyone! He told me this and all I could think was, Dude, I’d rather have known what you just did in the bathroom!”

It’s funny what secrets lurk behind closed doors. How appearances are just that, appearances. Big beautiful houses, happy smiling couples, perfectly behaved children. These things make me envious. I don’t want to be envious of my friends, but I do find myself longing for these things that I think make their lives more complete than mine.

Funny dat, huh?

It’s time to circle the wagons. Kat is much too nice to go after Rat Bastard the way he needs to be gone after. So Quincy and I are going to take care of it. But, first, tonite, we’re bringing over Margaritas and Mexican food and we are gonna get her stinkin’ drunk (and we’re gonna sleep there, ‘cause we’re gonna be stinkin’ drunk too.)

‘Cause if anyone deserves to escape their life right now, it’s my friend Kat.

i said... what? at 11:00 AM / 1 had to say... what? / Links to this post / Home

Monday, May 15, 2006

Give up my Seven's? Never!

My friend Neil over at Citizen of the Month posted today about women’s sizes and the fashion industry. In response to the difficulty he had finding a suitable outfit for his MIL, because she is a size 18-20, he went home and did some Googling. What he found was:

“Most fashion designers and popular boutiques do not want their fashions to be worn by anyone over size 12. Even the popular H&M in New York doesn’t carry any large sizes.”

His suggestion to remedy this:

“That women refuse to shop in these stores or wear a designer’s clothes until the companies change their discriminatory practices against larger sized women.”

Bah!

Yes, I know I’m weight obsessed, but I think I speak for the majority of weight conscious women.

When you are thin, you like to wear clothes that flatter you and show off the figure you’ve worked so hard to attain (well, some people don’t need to work hard… but we who do have to work at it, hate them. But I digress.) Designer clothing uses higher quality fabrics, meaning that they last longer. This translates into more value for your dollar.

These labels also spend more time on fit, so their clothing flatters you more than the lower priced line clothing does. Which makes you feel better about yourself.

Bottom line, if you’re lucky enough to have a figure that fits into these labels, (and you can justify the money), you’ll usually end up buying them. Because, who isn't going to want to feel and look good in their clothes?

Buying expensive designer clothing also gives you motivation to stay thin. When you’ve spent $150+ on a pair of jeans that really flatter your bum, the way your bum currently looks, you are gonna do your damnedest to make sure they continue to fit and flatter. There’s nothing worse than putting on a pair of favorite jeans and having them feel too snug. I know I double my workout efforts when that happens. I’ve invested way too much money in these things to have them sit, unused in my closet.

So, while this is a nice thought, Neil:

“I know most women are caring and supportive of each other, and will be glad to show support for their heavier friends.”

It’s never gonna happen. We just like clothes that flatter us way too much to give them up for the greater good.

Now, if I could just figure out what my motivating factor is regarding my obsession for buying only overpriced, designer handbags.

i said... what? at 1:07 PM / 11 had to say... what? / Links to this post / Home

Sunday, May 14, 2006

The Letter T

I got this meme from Some Girl.

(Just as an aside, I don't usually participate in meme's, but there's no tagging in this one, and it actually required some brain power on my part. )

Here’s how it works: Comment on this entry if you want to play along. Write ten words beginning with that letter in your blog along with an explanation of why you chose them, and then pass out letters to others who want to play along.

I got the letter T, so here's my ten for T.

Two – The most obvious reason for choosing this word is that I'm looking at my TWO beautiful boys that are hanging out watching TV in my bed right now.

Tenacious – Not only because it’s the name of Jack Black’s band (add a D and check ‘em out, they’re fabulous), but also because I’ve been feeling this way about myself recently. That’s not a bad thing.

Terrific – There are so many things in my life that are fantastic right now; I can say things are terrific.

Toes – Mine are so not as pretty as they should be right now, I really ~~need~~ want a pedicure!

Tasty – What Mother’s Day breakfast at Toast is going to be! Yum, I can’t wait.

Tea – The perfect beverage to curl up with on a rainy day. (And this weekend is chock full of them.) Add a good book and I’m all set for hours of relaxation.

(Just as an aside, this is quite difficult to accomplish when you’ve got Spongebob & Patrick goin' on in the background.)

Tension – When I first started spending more time with B, I was extremely tense. We attended a first Communion party together yesterday, as a family. The tension I've felt in prior situations is definitely dissipating. We had fun.

Talk – What B and I did on Friday, at lunch, about our expectations. It was a good conversation. I was very upfront with him about how much I was enjoying the time we are spending together as a family, and that I was frightened that if it didn’t work out between us, that it would disappear. He was equally as honest with me in telling me that if it didn’t work out between us, he doesn’t think he could continue to spend this much time together as a family. That it would feel like a lie to him. I can respect that. There was more, but now is not the time.

Back to the list.

Time – What we decided we have plenty of, in terms of figuring this out. There is no time- table in trying to get back together, we need to take our time and make sure everything is right.

Together – I have more confidence these days that this is where my family may end up. Back together.

So there ya go. Ten words that start with the letter T… Ah, Ah, Ah! (Y’all know I have a thing for The Count, it’s not like I haven’t admitted it already.)

Leave it in the comments if you want to play along.

Happy Mother’s Day to all the Mom’s out there. Have an AMAZING day!

i said... what? at 10:08 AM / 2 had to say... what? / Links to this post / Home

Friday, May 12, 2006

Oh my fucking G-d!

Yes, yes, I know, this is my third post today... BUT, I just found out that I have been chosen as one of the seven finalists in the Blogging for Books contest I entered with this post (me, little 'ol me!)

Holy fucking shit.

SQUEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!

Yay me!

i said... what? at 2:14 PM / 11 had to say... what? / Links to this post / Home

Favorite movie quotes Friday II

Fat, drunk, and stupid is no way to go through life, son.

My advice to you is to start drinking heavily.

Could you describe the ruckus, sir?

Don't call me stupid.
Oh, right, to call you stupid would be an insult to stupid people! I've known sheep that could outwit you! I've worn dresses with higher I.Q.s!

We came. We saw. We kicked its ass!

Men are rats. Listen to me, they're fleas on rats. Worse than that, they're amoebas on fleas on rats.

Ex-squeeze me? Baking powder?

Fished in!

Oh, you’re not leaving are you?
No, uh, we’re walking in backwards.

Rock stars have kidnapped my son!

And this one time, at band camp…

I’m going to take a bath.
I’ll alert the media.

Hello! McFly!!

Girls with big tits have big asses. Girls with little tits have little asses. That's the way it goes. G-d doesn't fuck around, he's a fair guy. He gave the fatties big, beautiful tits and the skinnies little tiny niddlers. It's not my rule. If you don't like it, call him.

Is skirt off sick?

Anything traveling that far ought to have a damn stewardess on it, don’t you think?

What’s a Nubian?

Since you like chicks, right… do you just look at yourself naked in the mirror all the time?

But you hate people!
Yes, but I love gatherings. Ironic, isn’t it?

Are you trying to say capeesh? Well don’t. It hurts my ears when you do.

I fucked up.
Yeah, but you gave it 100% effort.

My dad’s got this awesome set of tools dude, we can fix it.

Sorry folks. Park’s closed. The moose out front shoulda told ya.

Will you quit feeling sorry for yourself? It’s bad for your complexion!

(C'mon, quote with me. Add your own into the comments.)

i said... what? at 9:33 AM / 10 had to say... what? / Links to this post / Home

Be free

I don’t want this blog to become "my therapy regurgitation". That’s no fun for anyone.

The thing is, there are so many buried memories coming to the surface during my weekly sessions. Writing about these things is helping me come to terms with the wounds that I’m still carrying around. What I'm hoping is that "coming to terms" translates into "moving forward. "

It’s not about "poor me," it’s more like, “be free.”

With that disclaimer out of the way, I’m going back to the past now. You’ve been warned.

__________________________________

“C’mon. It’s time to get up. Come with me.”

I let out a sigh. "Good morning to you too, mom" runs through my head, but I say nothing. I slowly pull myself out of the cocoon I fold myself into while I sleep, slide my feet to the floor and stand up.

I’ve already resigned myself to what’s going to happen next. It’s familiar; a routine at this point. I sort of shrug to myself and inwardly wonder what today’s number will be. Whatever it is, I'm sure it's not going to be good enough for her.

This was an everyday occurrence from ages 14 to 17. Every morning, from the time I was a freshman in high school until I left for my first year at college, the summer of 1984, it was the same thing. These were very awkward years for me, the years before I grew into my features. Became the person, appearance wise, that I was destined to be. This ritual went a long way in contributing to my lack of self esteem.

“Let’s go.”

I walk the four feet from my bedroom door to my parents’ as slowly as I possibly can.

My mother is already at her closet door, opening it, and pulling out the doctor’s scale that is housed inside.

“Get on. Let’s see where you are today.”

I remember on this particular morning, how I had tried to have a “conversation” with my mother the night before about how I had eaten too much. But it was okay, I explained, I found and took the Ex-Lax that was in the linen closet. That should help.

At the time, she didn’t acknowledge any part of this “conversation.” Didn’t make it clear that she knew I was crying out for help; crying out for the madness to stop. No. She continued to speak to my father, went about cleaning up the kitchen, like I hadn’t said a word.

I step on the scale. My mother starts fidgeting with the sliding bars. Trying to find the balance spot.

She finally finds it. I look down. So not where I wanted it to be. I look up. Yep. She’s glaring at me. I just look back into her eyes.

“Do you see that? Look at how fat you’re getting. Like an elephant. This keeps up and you’re not even going to be able to tuck your shirts in.”

I step off of the scale, back out of the closet. Inch away, slowly but surely. Eventually I make it out of her room and back into the safety of my own. Close the door. Escape for the moment; until tomorrow. When it all begins again.

__________________________________

The thing is, the weight that I was then, at 14/15, is the same weight that my body will naturally try to return to now at 39.

I’m happiest with myself when I weigh at least 10lbs less. But I can’t be healthy and be 10lbs lighter. In fact, I have to do fairly unhealthy things to achieve this.

The thing is, I don’t care, and I do them regardless.

I have two beautiful boys that I love, but I continue to do extremely unhealthy things in order to be, what I consider, thin.

I’m not fat 10lbs heavier. But, my self-image tells me that I am, and I believe it.

This number on a scale, it’s my trigger. I feel like I will never be able to look at this number and feel good about myself. It will always mean FAT. ELEPHANT. YOU CAN'T TUCK YOUR SHIRTS IN.

I don’t want to live this way anymore.

Mom knows about this. We’ve talked about it and she’s apologized. She’s completely cognizant of the fact that she’s done this to me; she feels bad.

But I still have this voice in my head that won’t go away. Just because she’s sorry doesn’t make the voice go away.

The voice that’s slowly eating away at me.

Hah.

i said... what? at 7:45 AM / 2 had to say... what? / Links to this post / Home

Thursday, May 11, 2006

Bad Robot

For some reason, last night I decided it would be a good writing exercise to try and live blog the latest episode of LOST. Why? Hell if I know.

I’m totally addicted to this show. I spent one weekend, (the weekend I made the decision to see if I could put my family back together, which was also the weekend I deleted the blog), watching the entire first season. That’s right. I watched 24 episodes in ONE weekend. I was completely strung out on this show. I HAD to know what happened next. It was an addiction.

I never watched last year. But I kept hearing everyone going on and on about how amazing this show is. So, I threw the first two discs of Season 1 into my Netflix Queue figuring I’d check it out. I watched the entire first disc and one episode of the second Friday night into Saturday morning. By Saturday afternoon I finished Disc 2 and ran to Blockbuster to see if I could rent the rest. They only had Disc 3. Sure enough, Saturday evening I was in Best Buy to purchase the DVD’s so I could keep watching. I finished watching all six discs Sunday night at 8PM. 48 hours after I started Disc 1.

At this point, Season 2 was already 15 episodes in. You cannot pickup this show in the middle. You HAVE to watch from the beginning. I discovered Itunes had a Season Pass for the second season that I could purchase. YES. I could catch up.

Last week was the first time that I watched as it aired. The episode was fucking fantastic. I couldn’t wait for this week’s episode. I’m so lame, I was counting down; chatting with my brother Happy on a regular basis about what we thought was going to happen next.

Talk about a letdown. Last night’s episode was pretty damn lame. I fell asleep at the last commercial break, I was so bored. So for those of you worried that I may spoil you with this live blogging attempt, not so much.

______________________________________

Echo’s chopping wood. Heh heh heh… she said wood. (Okay inner Beavis, enough with you already!)

Why’s AnaL alive? Talking to Echo? Oh, blood’s coming out of her mouth. She's still with the dead.

(Now we have to deal with dream sequences on top of flashbacks? GAH!)

Echo’s talking to his dead brother. There are dead people talking to Echo all over the place. I see dead people? Is Bruce Willis here too?

Okay, Echo’s supposed to ask John about the question mark? Hey, continuity… go figure. Echo and his axe are gonna go see John. This can’t lead anywhere good.

Damn, Sawyer, you are so fucking hot. But, I digress.

Michael… you are one big fat liar. You shot them dude. Not Not-Henry. (Did I just double negative? Oh well.) Whoa, there’s carnage everywhere in the hatch. AnaL. Libby. Michael. Oh, wait. Michael you only shot yourself in the shoulder. You’re not carnage. Michael, you sooo fucked man. Libby’s still alive. She’s gonna rat you out for shooting her.

Echo’s praying. ‘Cause he’s a priest and shit. Yeah, I want him as my priest.

Libby? She’s so gonna die. Michael you’re lying through your ass. Someone’s gotta go find Not-Henry. Looky here. Echo and John are gonna do it. How convenient.

Echo’s taking confession? WTF?

Oh. Flashback. A Drug Dealer taking confession. And we wonder where the Catholic Church went wrong. Echo doesn’t believe this woman’s confession. But according to the Monsignor, that’s why he was chosen. Yeah. OK. I’m with the understanding this. NOT.

Back on the island. John and Echo together. Damn. Echo’s asking questions that John won’t answer. Look at that, now John’s unconscious. Do ya think he expected a priest to knock him out? I'm thinking not.

Fire pretty. Wait, isn't it: fire bad, tree pretty? (oops, wrong show. Buffy flashback.)

"You hit me. Are you insane?"

No. Someone needs to knock some sense into you John.

Echo and John around a campfire. Uh oh, we goin all Brokeback Mountain? Not so much. How about some answers then? Also, not so much. Oooh, the guilt. Echo tells John of the dream. AnaL wants them to follow John’s map.

Another flashback.

How do you find out someone’s not dead DURING the autopsy? When they start screaming that someone’s cutting into them. Dead giveaway.

Back to the island.

“Your map isn’t exact.” Ummm, you’re just figuring that out now? “What’s the axe for?” “I’m just figuring that out now.” Cool.

Back to the plane.

Oh. Boone was a sacrifice. One that the ISLAND demanded. Thanks for letting me know. I was worried he died for nothing.

Jack, Kate, Michael. Michael wants to know if Libby said anything. Dude. So covering your ass right now.

Ooh, Kate and Sawyer together.

Have I mentioned… Sawyer… So Fucking Hot! Freckles, you so need to get with that already.

Michael if Libby wakes up… your ass is grass. Kate wants to know “How did AnaL get your gun Sawyer?”

Ummm, By fucking him, dude! Something you should’ve done eons ago.

Wait, Sawyer’s got heroin as well as guns stashed under his bed? Damn! Didn’t see that coming… NOT.

Okay, we’re seeing more dead people. We’re used to that here by now.

Echo’s following his dead brother through the forest, up a cliff. Wait, he wakes up… falls off the cliff… (or did he fall and then wake up, I’m not sure) but, it’s John’s dream!

Okay, that's a little fucked up.

Echo and John need to come together. Up the cliff. Yeah, I’m a cripple, but I’ll climb a mountain. Well within the realm of reality.

Flashback now.

Zealot! I’m a fraud. (Who the fuck cares man? )

(I don’t.)

(Get me back to the island please.)

Oh yeah, there was or wasn’t a miracle. I’m not sure.

Echo’s climbing the mountain to get to…. what? John, who’s crippled, seems real good without his crutches… it’s a MIRACLE! Echo doesn’t see anything, but… wait… we see… there’s a PLANE!

We’re back, Echo’s sniffing dirt. It’s salt.

What Plane? More digging. And looky here… it’s another Hatch.

i said... what? at 9:05 AM / 4 had to say... what? / Links to this post / Home

Wednesday, May 10, 2006

Archives

I found a few posts that I loved (and that had nothing to do with dating) sitting on my hard drive.

So, since I just figured out that it's possible to back date posts, I added them to the archives under the dates that I originally posted them.

Which is why, all of a sudden, I have archives for January and February (~~well, one of the Feb's is the blog stalking list, but I digress.~~ I moved the stalking list to December's archives.)

i said... what? at 9:27 AM / 0 had to say... what? / Links to this post / Home

Tuesday, May 09, 2006

What a girl wants

I finally sat down this morning to read the packet my therapist gave me last week. This packet was part of my homework assignment for tonight.

(Just as an aside, when it comes to homework, I procrastinate just as much now as I ever did in high school and college. I guess old habits do die hard.)

The packet is all about self-talk, imagery and responding to the self-defeating commentary in your head. Of course, my inner Beavis gets to the page about silencing the 'critical drill sergeant' and can’t stop laughing over the terminology they've coined to describe this behavior: 'Musterbating.'

(Heh heh heh… he said musterbating.)

It’s a little frightening how many of these inner criticisms listed on this one page have passed through my brain, though I most definitely have never had issue with this one:

“I must never masturbate, for it is sluttish and selfish, and I’m disgusting for even considering it.”

(I wonder what this person would think of my porn collection?)

(Heh heh heh... she said porn.)

The packet makes a lot of sense to me, and I had no problem reading it.

But… Ms. British always wants more from me. I can’t just read the packet and try to put what’s written there into practice. Nooooooo. I have to come up with a list of things I WANT that will make me happy.

I find this assignment very difficult. Because the things that I want, that I believe will make me happy, are so far out of reach they're really more like pipe dreams.

Such as what, you ask?

      1.  I want to own a house or condo in my town, preferably near the beach, or, better yet, one with water views.

Yah. Okay. Like that’s gonna happen. The CONDO price is $750.0, at minimum. House? Bah. Like I got a couple million bucks lying around. Take away the water views, you still have condo prices at $400+ and decent, non-tear down houses starting at $500.0.

With my current salary, I could afford a mortgage of about $350.0, which leaves me… shit outta luck.

Next.

      2.  I don’t fucking know!

I’ve never thought in terms of what I want. It’s always been about other people. What do they need? How will they be happy? This exercise is selfish! I can’t do it.

Yeah, yeah. I know, this mindset is what I’m supposed to be trying to change.

      2.  I still don’t fucking know!

I’m just going in there tonight and tell her that I don’t know. That I can stop musterbating, (but, definitely not masturbating) and silence my inner critic, but putting together this list is going to take me a little longer to accomplish.

Why the fuck can’t I do this?

      2.  To see my boysies everyday.

See, another impossibility. Unless, of course, B and I get back together. But, I’m not supposed to be doing that for the kids; that would be a "should". Should's are bad. I’m supposed to be doing that as something that I want and need. But I'm not ready to make that distinction yet.

Back to square one. (Or is it two?)

My head hurts. I can’t do this right now.

Oooh, time for birthday cake. Gotta run.

i said... what? at 12:37 PM / 4 had to say... what? / Links to this post / Home

Monday, May 08, 2006

Expectations

How did I not realize until this morning that yesterday was the anniversary of my wedding? (I know it’s not an anniversary anymore, but I’m not sure what else I should call it.)

What does that say about my psyche?

I spent a lot of time with B and the boysies this weekend. Mostly sports related; we had soccer and baseball games on Saturday, then another baseball game yesterday afternoon.

Even though it was B’s weekend with the boys, I took them back to my house after soccer Saturday to get them changed for baseball while B ran to pick up some sushi for us.

I was both annoyed ~~and~~… nah, honestly, I was just annoyed.

I really wanted a smokie after three hours of soccer, and I don’t smoke around the boys. This was putting off my smoke break for at least forty-five minutes. Plus, the boys were tired and cranky. Saturday was the first warm day that we've had since the spring soccer season started; running for an hour and a half in the heat had definitely taken it's toll. Their constant whining attested to that fact.

(Just as an aside, having soccer end at 1:15 and baseball begin at 2:00… FUN times!)

The thing was, I knew how nice it was for B to go pick up and pay for our sushi. How could I tell him: "No, I’ll go pick up the sushi and you drive all the way back to your house (in the next town) to change the boys."

I also knew if I took the boys to my house they would have a few minutes to sit and relax before heading to their game as opposed to rushing into B’s house, madly changing, and getting right back into the car to rush back to the field.

I tried to get over it, but, I had little success. By the time B got to my house with the sushi, I had very little patience left and no desire to sit down at the table to eat with him.

So, I didn’t.

To his credit, he took it in stride. He made small talk with me, chatted up the boys, and rounded them up to take them over to the field a few minutes early so that I could call my mom back and have my smoke break.

It’s this kind of situation where I see the biggest change in B’s behavior and reactions.

And, that’s so not of the bad.

Immediately following baseball, I had plans to go out with my two mom friends from my town, Quincy and Kat. Kat’s boys are on the same baseball team as Big Guy and Little Dude, so when the game ended, we left the kids with the men and headed to Quincy’s house to pick her up for our planned evening of shopping and dinner.

Yesterday, L & I went for breakfast, I took my walk, ran some errands and pulled up to the baseball field promptly at 4pm for the game. Quincy, Kat and I sat together, cheered our kids on and chatted while the men coached (Quincy’s boys played our boys last night… we won, heheheh.)

As I was walking back to the car with B and the boys after the game, Little Dude asked if I was coming to dinner with them. Then Big Guy chimed in, “please, please, please… can you come too?”

I looked at B questioningly.

“After all the conversation about the buffet this weekend, I promised them Chinese food after the game. Would you like to come with us?”

I did.

Again, as we’ve had recently, it was a perfectly lovely time. The boys are so fucking happy when we’re together; it’s hard for that to not rub off on your own mood.

During dinner, B mentioned that he’d be happy to make a reservation for Mother’s Day brunch next week. As of this writing, he’s already made reservations at two different restaurants for me to choose from.

We’ve got plans to go to lunch this week to talk about expectations. It's really the first time we are going out alone since we started talking.

Should be interesting.

i said... what? at 11:26 AM / 4 had to say... what? / Links to this post / Home

Sunday, May 07, 2006

My love affair...

With the ocean.

At first glance, seemingly peaceful, calm and serene. Yet, hiding underneath is something amazingly strong that could tear you apart in seconds.

Have you ever watched a storm roll in over the ocean? It's an unbelievably powerful sight to behold.

I love the ocean's hidden strength. It brings me renewed power and belief in myself.

I've commented to many people in my life that the ocean is my therapy. It's what helps me keep my sanity living here as a single mom, in this ridiculously puritanical, judgemental town (Yes, I heard you already Grumpy. "The ocean is NOT therapy, therapy is therapy." But I digress.)

I'm having a bad day? I need a break from everyday stresses? I need to clear my head? I need to gain new perspective on an old problem? I need to relax? I just want to be outside?

I head to Sandy Beach and park my ass in front of the Atlantic for a while. It works every time. If I'm feeling sad and alone, happiness reappears and loneliness quells as I sit and watch the swells (though, this is New England, so, not so much with the swells mostly.)

As I sit and mull over problems, it's as if my troubles magically wash out to sea with the tide. And then I feel ready to move forward and tackle whatever it was that was bringing me down.

If that's not a form of therapy, I don't know what is.

i said... what? at 7:30 PM / 3 had to say... what? / Links to this post / Home

Wonderful views

What a beautiful day. I took a seven mile walk around my town today, along the coastline. This is the view from Sandy Beach, my town's private beach and my saving grace. I also saw a swan in one of the alcoves, but by the time I got back with my camera he was gone.

Gotta run to baseball, but I'll be back later to write.

i said... what? at 3:54 PM / 0 had to say... what? / Links to this post / Home

Friday, May 05, 2006

Favorite movie quotes Friday

Badges? We don’t need no stinkin’ badges!

If we win! Ha! Even if we play so far over our heads... that our noses bleed for a week to ten days... even if G-d in heaven above... comes down and points his hand at our side of the field... even if every man, woman and child... held hands together and prayed for us to win... it just wouldn't matter... because all the really good looking girls would still go out with the guys from Mohawk, ‘cause they’ve got all the money!

Inconceivable!
You keep using that word -- I do not think it means what you think it means.

Let me put it this way: have you ever heard of Plato, Aristotle, Socrates?
Yes.
Morons.

Let me explain -- no, there is too much. Let me sum up.

I'll explain. And I'll use small words so that you'll be sure to understand, you warthog faced buffoon.

If you guys know so much about women, how come you're here at like the Gas 'n Sip on a Saturday night completely alone, drinking beers, no women anywhere?
Choice, man.

Did I listen to pop music because I was miserable, or was I miserable because I listened to pop music?

I'm real sorry your mom blew up, Ricky.

Two dollars. I want my two dollars!

Strange things are afoot at the Circle K.

I'm the Dude. So, that's what you call me. You know, that, or his dudeness, or duder, or el duderino, if you're not into the whole brevity thing.

Does Barry Manilow know that you raid his wardrobe?

Licensed to kill gophers by the government of the United Nations. Man... free to kill gophers at will.

A flute with no holes is not a flute. And, a doughnut with no hole is a Danish.

There's a million fine looking women in the world, dude. But, they don't all bring you lasagna at work. Most of 'em just cheat on you.

There's nothing more exhilarating than pointing out the shortcomings of others, is there?

I'm a firm believer in the philosophy of a ruling class. Especially since I rule.

Pardon my French, but Cameron is so tight that if you stuck a lump of coal up his ass, in two weeks you'd have a diamond.

Did you have a brain tumor for breakfast?

Fuck me gently with a chainsaw.

I'm telling you to shut up! I'll tell your recorder so that you don't forget. Hello, this is Chuck to remind Bill to shut up!

This. This is ice. This is what happens to water when it gets too cold. This. This is Kent. This is what happens to people when they get too sexually frustrated.

We're soldiers, but we're American soldiers! We've been kicking ass for 200 years! We're 10-and-1!

Owen doesn’t have any friends.

Hee.

(Feel free to add your own in the comments if you so desire. C'mon, you know you want to.)

i said... what? at 11:37 AM / 4 had to say... what? / Links to this post / Home

Thursday, May 04, 2006

Parenting 101. Or, what my mom forgot.

I learned a lot from my mother. Specifically, how not to parent.

It’s not that she didn’t teach me things that helped me in a positive way, ie: responsibility, empathy, honesty, the value of education, to name a few. But, when I reflect on my childhood, I do not have many happy memories.

That is the one thing I knew I would do differently when I had my own children. They would have plenty of happy times to look back on. I was going to make sure of it. Hell, I took four years of child pyschology to prove my mom wrong and to learn how to do it right.

I don’t claim to be a perfect mom. I’m far from it. I lose my patience, scream and yell, but there is always forgiveness when it’s done. A hug and kiss to say it’s okay, I lost my shit, but I love you. I might not always love your behavior, but I always love YOU.

That’s what my mom forgot to do. She forgot to tell me that it was my behavior she disapproved of, not me.

That's why I have a tendency to beat myself up over things.

When I mess up, make a mistake; I will mull it over and over in my head for days. How could’ve I been so stupid? I should’ve known better. And I have a very hard time letting go of these feelings. There are certain things that have been hanging around for years (my head, not so much a fun place to be sometimes.)

I don’t want to pass this trait along to my sons. I will do everything in my power not to. They are much too precious to end up not believing in themselves.

i said... what? at 8:18 PM / 1 had to say... what? / Links to this post / Home

Into the great wide open

June 21st.

Tweeter Center.

L & I.

2 Lawn Tickets.

Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers!!

Sweet.

i said... what? at 10:11 AM / 2 had to say... what? / Links to this post / Home

Wednesday, May 03, 2006

If it's not one thing...

It's another.

The house I've been renting for the past four years, the house that has FINALLY become a home for the boysies and I, has been put up for sale. It's a two family house, we live in the top half, and have become quite comfortable here. We are walking distance to town, the library, even the beach (given about forty minutes.)

Four years ago is when I kicked B out. We were living in this town, but in a different house. A short time after I kicked him out, the owners called me to ask if I wanted to renew the lease. Being the honest person that I am, I filled them in on the current situation, assured them that I was more than able to fufill my obligations regarding the rent. Two days later they called back to tell me that, actually, they would be needing their house back as they were moving back from Dallas.

As it turns out, they lied. They just didn't want me, a single mom, living in their house. That's the kind of puritanical people that live in this town. They don't believe that a single mom could possibly NOT be white trash. That I couldn't possibly just be an upstanding citizen that only wants to take care of her kids and provide the best for them. But I digress.

The realtor handling the sale of this house had assured me that any potential buyer was going to be very happy that I'm here. I am guaranteed rental income for them. This is considered a "rental property" and I am "insurance" that they will have at least one tenant when they buy (the downstairs has been empty for just about a year now, hence the putting the house up for sale.)

Not so much the case with the buyer that came by this evening. He seems to want the house for himself and his family. He wants to somehow convert it into a one family dwelling so that he can have an upscale address for a low budget cost.

At least that's the read I got off of him, and I'm pretty damn good at reading people.

Looks like I might be looking for new digs.

Working in my favor though, the rental market is wide open right now. Who knows, I might even end up with a better deal.

At least I hope so.

i said... what? at 8:38 PM / 6 had to say... what? / Links to this post / Home

Blogging for books

I've entered my post Baby steps into the Blogging for books contest.

I found the link this morning on Woulda, Coulda, Shoulda and went to investigate; it turns out the blog contest is to write about cheating. Any kind of cheating.

I was like, hey, I already did that.

So, before I could stop myself with the WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU DOING?! thought, I posted the link.

Not that I expect to win or anything, but this relates to the new homework assignment I was given in therapy last night. I'm supposed to be replacing my negative thoughts about myself with positive ones.

Thinking that random, anonymous people, as well as Kim Ponders (who wrote the book The Art of Uncontrolled Flight) might enjoy my writing is pretty damn positive for me.

Dontcha think?

(could I include any more hyperlinks in this short post?)

i said... what? at 12:46 PM / 2 had to say... what? / Links to this post / Home

Tuesday, May 02, 2006

One track mind

I suppose that I shouldn’t be complaining that Big Guy loves school and is totally conscientious about his schoolwork. But I was certainly not happy about it yesterday morning.

We had a really full weekend of activities. The boysies were exhausted by the time they finished their baseball game Sunday evening. It was my plan to get them into bed by 7:30pm Sunday night; it was probably more like 8:00 when I turned out the light and closed the door.

Just as an aside, can I just say how much I adore the goodnight routine we have? After we read our stories, and it’s time for goodnight hugs and kisses, the boysies each have me give them ten kisses. In between each one I have to count them while doing my best The Count (Sesame Street) impression, including the ending “ah, ah, ah.” It makes them giggle, and leaves me with a smile on my face each and every time.

Anyhoo, back to yesterday morning. Big Guy’s biggest worry when he went to sleep Sunday night was if he would be allowed to watch Sports Center in the morning to see the Yankee highlights (this boy is soooo his father’s son, but I digress.) I promised that when he came to wake me up in the morning I would let him turn it on then (yes, he is my alarm clock.)

6:05AM: Like clockwork, Big Guy is at my side asking me if he could turn on the television. I beg him for fifteen more minutes.

6:20AM: “Mommy, now?”

“Fine.”

I drag my ass out of bed and into the kitchen to start the morning routine (which is so not as much fun as the bedtime routine) of getting the boysies’ lunches ready, getting them breakfast, getting them dressed (or at least picking out their clothes, they can get themselves dressed, even though Little Dude would prefer me to believe he can’t) making sure their backpacks have everything they need, and then finally trying to get myself ready to walk out the door (can you understand why I’ve forgone makeup lately?)

I’m about ten minutes into trying to get this accomplished; all of a sudden I hear loud, hysterical crying coming from my room. Ooookaaayyy….

“The highlights didn’t come on yet! He changed the channel! You promised me I could see the highlights!

It seems that Little Dude had changed the channel at 6:30 to his favorite PBS morning show. He didn’t say anything first, just walked up to the cable box and did his thing.

This did not sit well with his big brother.

I tried to remind Big Guy that I had promised him he could watch Sports Center until 6:30, and then we would put on Caillou for Little Dude. The same routine we have EVERY morning.

Big Guy could just not let this go. He worked himself up into a nice little frenzy. And no matter how much I tried to get him to pull himself together, he was having none of it. He was gonna be hysterical dammit!

Twenty minutes later I was still having no luck calming him down. Then it clicked.

“Big Guy, what time did you wake up?”

Sheepish look. “In the 4’s.” (this is Big Guy speak for 4AM.)

I put my hand to his forehead. Sure enough, he was running a fever.

“Buddy, you’re not going to school today. Let’s get you back into your jammies and you can get into my bed.”

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!! I WANNA GO TO SCHOOL!!!"

“Buddy, there’s no way I’m letting you go to school. You have a fever, you’re exhausted and you haven’t been able to do anything but cry since you woke up.”

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!! I WANNA GO TO SCHOOL!!!"

“I’m going to call my boss right now and tell her that I’m not coming in, that you’re sick and I have to stay home with you.”

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!! I WANNA GO TO SCHOOL!!!"

I pick up the phone and dial, all the while Big Guy is crying and screaming in the background.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!! I WANNA GO TO SCHOOL!!!"

In the message I left, I first apologize to my boss for the crying and screaming that she can obviously hear in the background, and then explain that I won’t be coming in today.

I hang up the phone, come out of the locked bathroom (otherwise Big Guy was coming after me to steal the phone from my hands) and look Big Guy in the eye.

“Done. You might as well go change into your jammies now.”

“Bu.. bu.. but mommy…. If I don’t go to school, how am I going to get my spelling words for the week? And tomorrow… I’m going to have two pages of spelling, two pages of math… An… an… and my reading log…. (sniffle, sniffle.)”

“I’ll tell you what. I’ll call Mrs. B and ask her to send your homework home with Little Dude. Does that help?”

Head nod. He turns and walks into his room. He emerges, back in his jammies.

“Can I watch Sports Center at 8 o’clock to see the Yankee highlights?”

i said... what? at 12:50 PM / 2 had to say... what? / Links to this post / Home

I have no brain...

I can’t believe I forgot to do this.

I want to say a monster thank you to Amy for the shout out and sending so many new people my way. And, if you haven't read her, you should go here and read... she's 'mazing.

To all the newbies…

Welcome. Take a look around, get comfie. And feel free to say hey.

i said... what? at 8:54 AM / 0 had to say... what? / Links to this post / Home

Monday, May 01, 2006

A new look

Was anyone else sick of the pink?

The blog was starting to remind me of Pepto-Bismol every time I opened up the page and Pepto makes me vomit, so... you do the math.

I spent today scouring the net for blogger templates (very productive day, dontcha think?) and while this is one of blogspot's standards, I think it fits both my mind and personality.

What do y'all think? You like?

I hope it doesn't make you think of vomit.

Hee.

~~ETA: If blogger EVER lets me publish again I'm left justifying the post text. I do not like it to the right (I do not like green eggs and ham, I do not like them Sam I Am.)~~

i said... what? at 2:42 PM / 5 had to say... what? / Links to this post / Home