Sep 24, 2009

Siesta Anyone

I am thinking that if I could atleast take a nap during the day, m waking up for hours at a time wouldn't bother me so much. I am currently so tired, all the good things of the day are not tooting my horn the way they typically would.

1. I have a working refrigerator inside my house.
2. While Angelique does indeed have the flu it is not the swine flu that she was exposed to last week.
3. Christian has yet to start showing any flu symptoms.
4. It's premier night for my shows.
5. My bathroom renovation has visible progress.
6. Tomorrow is paday.

With all the great things going on (seriously) I feel like I should be jumping on my couch with excitement. But instead, my fat ass is sunk into the pillows where the only thing I have the energy to move is my thumbs.

Tell me, do you ever get so tired its hard to even exert the energy to show happiness (which I truly am feeling)?

Sep 23, 2009

PMS - That Dirty Little Bitch

Today my little girl stayed home from school sick again.  Unfortunately it seems that this is just the beginning of an illness that may last several days as the fever is starting to climb and she is starting to get a sore throat.  My father-in-law was over again to work on our bathroom that is under construction.  Let me say again how very grateful I am that he is helping us.  Otherwise we would not have sheetrock at all in that room and now it is done.  Clint (who came home for lunch) got into a pretty good argument.  Something about me being on my "No - High Horse"  You see, my hubs is an "I want" type of guy.  So there is a whole lotta no, we can't afford that goin' on.  The convo for today included my Mother-In-Laws Spring Break (she is a teacher) and that she is chaperoning the 5th grade elective trip to Washington DC and wants to take Leaky with her.  Apparently my NO! was a little to bitchy to my F-I-L.  Being something we really can't afford while we are trying to get our house ready to sell (and let me tell you, there is a lot of work to be done).  After Clint left, to ease my guilty conscience, I asked my F-I-L if they wanted to come to dinner and have steaks as a thank you for all the help.

Dinner turned out really well (despite myself at the helm of the grill) and we had some kick-ass rib eyes and grilled asparagus.  Some how our after dinner converstation (after my M-I-L left for a meeting at her school for the aforementioned DC trip) we started talking about what a difficult time Clint was having with quitting smoking and how you realize you're being an ass after you leave the situation and have the first few awesome, sexy, hot, blissful (did I mention I used to smoke, but quit just over 7 years ago) drag that you realize you were fighting because of your fiend of a habbit.  Of course with two men in the room and myself... the blame could not fall on the only two remaining tabacco addicts in the room...NO, women are bitchy when they aren't fiending for that first drag of nicotine.  Women have PMS and it occurs once a month.

Now, based on the calendar I am about a week from the PMS.  However I have never been the regular type so it is completly plausable the lunch time argument (and my being ticked off about it for most of the afternoon) was caused my the dreaded monthly (or in my case bi-monthly) visitor.

My husband being the smart ass he is, had to remind me of the worst (or best depending on point of view) thing I ever told him while PMSing.  We tend to argue quite a bit about me not telling him what is bothering me.  So on one occassion I actually told him "If I told you everytime you annoyed me, I would be bitchin' all damn day"  Wow, the force was strong that day.

Now, just to prove what a great man I really do have, my dear hubs just returned from a medicine run for sickly with a beautiful assortment of pink flowers including roses, lilys, and baby carnations.  He also brought home a bottle of rare (in the US) tequilla in a purple bottle from the Jalisco mountians - where we know for a fact they make some kick ass tequilla.  Can we say special occasion margaritas?

So how 'bout you all in the blogsphere?  What are your best (or worst) PMS moments?

Sep 22, 2009

Why Did I Get Up Today?

Today was one of those days where my biggest desire is to pull the covers over my head and snooze till noon.  Then curl up in the corner of the couch with whatever suspense novel I have on hand.  Even if it is one of read before.  Alas, that is not to be (and has not been for several years) as I have children who want my attention - can you imagine?  What selfish little people!  Add to that my husband hates for me to read because "it's like you're not even here".  Hello...that's the point of a great novel.  Escapism.

Anyway today was one that you can feel in your bones in the morning that it is going to be against you at every turn.  I got up and got moving to get to work early to try to make up some time for coming in late while Clint was out of town and I had to take the kids to school every morning.  The rain started (and I do mean down poured) as I turned onto the street that my office was on.  Of course I was wearing a kicky little dress (but still office appropriate) and sling back peep toe heels (that are 1/2 a size too small just so they will stay on my narrow feet) and had to run across the parking lot.  I had left my hair down - which I never do - to have my waves kick in and frizz all over the place.  I am very thankful I had a pony tail holder with me - because I could obviously handle having wet feet and my dress plastered to me showing off all the flaws that the dress hides when worn dry, but my hair was not going to act like the lions mane it prefers to be in high humidity.

I made it through the morning of data entry hell fairly unscathed, ate my crappy lunch of a light hot pocket and steamed veggies.  Barf.  Right after I finished eating my gourmet meal my work cell rang (it never does that) and it was Leaky's school.  She is in the nurses office for the second time that day with a stomach ache and the outrageoulsy high fever of 99.1.  So after telling a coworker to tell my boss why I left - because I couldn't find him, I packed up my computer and made my way there.  Now, the last time I got a sick call (last year) it was also raining and my car broke down on the highway on the way to the school.  I was surely saying a little prayer as I climbed into my truck.  Once home with my sickly child (who was in fact running her normal below average 97.8) I realized my father-in-law had come over to work on our bathroom.  It was definately a highlight of my day to see that I have a ceiling, 3 walls, and spackle done.  As I set up my computer at the house to work on some more entry work my F-I-L decided he need to make a Walmart run to pick up some electrical outlets.  Of course he returned with Double Stuf Oreos and 4 pints of ice cream.  So much for dieting.

The light at the end of the tunnel.  Today was not all bad.  We finally had a refrigerator repair man come to look at our inside refrigerator that has been keeping a steady 60 degree temperature since the hurricane this time last year.  That and this all day rain that has been a thorn in my side means that cooler weather is on its way.  Usually I am all about summer time, but this year was an absolute scortcher and I am looking forward to fall.  I was very tempted in Garden Ridge over the weekend to stock up on spicy candles and fall wreaths.  So as I sit here at my computer in my sweats (I was still chilled from the rain) I am praying for a better day tomorrow and for the rain to give me a little break when I have to be outside.

Sep 21, 2009

Now Hiring...Personal Assistant

Yep I need a personal assistant.  And I have just the plan for getting one.  First I am going to bribe someone in the lottery commission (I am just guessing that is what they call it), and I will go buy a ticket with said numbers that my friend on the inside is going to make sure come up.  Maybe I should make sure my bribe-e is female they don't require anymore payment than a portion of my winnings.  Of course this all sounds like a lot of work, which is exactly why I need an assistant, so it will likely never happen.

I know I am not the only person in the world pulling out what is left of my hair (damn hormones) over not being able to get it all done.  But seriously, don't I have enough on my plate?  My list of things that should have, but didn't get done this weekend...
  1. Return library books, which I just realized one is missing (likely in my sons room...shudder)
  2. Return RedBox movies (crap...the kids are going to think they are getting McDonalds again)
  3. Mow the lawn
  4. Finish laundry (really does anyone ever finish this?)
  5. Fix the toilet - the little flapper thingy is broken and it runs unless you shut off the water
  6. Start my diet - ha who can diet when you are never home to eat
  7. Grocery shopping - I have no food to make meals with, and we are on our last small roll of TP - yesterday for lunch I threw all of what was left of frozen junk foods on a tray and threw it in the oven.  It consisted of french fries, corndogs, chicken nuggets, and pizza rolls - like I said "what diet?"
Now you may be thinking none of these things got done because I was home sitting on my fat ass watching the boob tube and zoning out.  Oh how I wish.  Clint was supposed to be back from Laredo Friday night, but nooooo.  The customer insisted he stay another night to monitor their electronic systems and make sure nothing failed before signing off on his repairs.  Assholes.  So I took the kiddos to micky-dees to play on the big whatcha-ma-callit before renting movies to keep them occupied so I could get stuff done.  I cleaned up after our dogs, started laundry, and picked up the living room.  I finally made it to bed exhausted with my 3 year old using my decorative bed pillows as a pallet on the floor next to me.  It was really cute (but I am sincerly hoping it does not become a habit).

Saturday called for getting all 3 of us through the shower (of course the kids favorite place to be when I am taking a shower is in the bathroom.  I fixing to install a deadbolt on that door - that is after the other bathroom remodel is done and they are allowed to use it.  With all the showering going on the laundry came to a halt as the 2 share hot water.  I had to go to the mall to have a necklace repaired - which they don't do...they just replace it because it has a lifetime warranty.  Problem is, they don't carry that necklace anymore either.  Grrrr.  Then, when Clint made it into town we took the kids to see "Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs".  It was cute, by Christian wasn't really into it.  After the movie we split off.  Clint took the living room "Expedition" to the car wash (just in time for it to pour down today) and I went to find picture frames for pictures we had taken of Leaky at a petti party.  The photographer is seriously talented.  If you are in the Houston area go check her out  Homeshade Photography.  As soon as we got home is was time for Clint and I to get ready to go out for a friends B-day party.  We were responsible for picking up the cake (hamburger and french fry cake - seriously).  We ate fajitas at the house before the crew headed out for an evening of dancing.  The intention was to be ready to go around 11.  Yeah right.  Clint got to play designated driver (I bitch, but it really was needed and I would rather give up my beauty sleep than one of my friends) so we got home around 3.

Sunday morning was a bitch.  I have this pesky little internal alarm clock that wakes me no later than 7 most mornings.  That couldn't be the case for this day.  I woke at around 6 but forced myself to stay in bed and eventually dozed a little.  My bliss in falling  back asleep was short lived my my husbands literal prodding at 7:30.  Now I was really awake and definately not going back to sleep, but he could - ass!  We eventually made our way to chuch and then parted ways once again.  Clint to buy sheetrock for the aforementioned bathroom and me to meet the bio mom at my house.  I have now seen her twice in a months time.  This is only the 7th time I have seen her in 9 years.  Before that it had been 14 years without any contact.  Awkward is the only thing I can think of to describe how being left alone with her feels.  I needed a buffer.  I barely managed to keep my composure when she told my daughter (almost 7) "You're just like your mom at the same age."  It took a strong prayer on my part not to yell back "How the mother trucker bleepin' would you know?"  Needless to say it was a long afternoon.  Then we went to group and had a good some good discussions about community and relationships.  I feel comfortable around them, but I still don't feel like I'm able to share my some of my issues.  Back to the house to watch one 30 minute TV show which was DVRed several days before and get the kids in bed by 9:30.  I don't have any idea how we are going to keep up with any of our favorite shows now that the new seasons are starting.

So, I really need a personal assistant (even if she will just sit with the bio mom and pretend to be me for an afternoon).  At least then I would have time to blog and keep my faithful multitude of readers (okay 3) entertained with my antics for a few minutes a day.  Of course if I had one, I would probably find 50 million other things that just had to get done TODAY!

Sep 15, 2009

I've Got My High Heels On

I have been an a bit of a kick of blogging about the kiddos lately. But not today. Despite them jumping on the couch, asking me for snacks and popping their gum in my ear as I sit here pecking out this post on my blackberry, this post is not about my ankle biters.

Ok back down to business - I had get get my son a peanut butter spoon (I cheat on after school snacks)!

I am typically a jeans and tee shirt type of gal and if I have to wear shoes they tend to be ballet type shoes. I am lucky to work in a place where casual dress is acceptable. However about a year ago afer a meeting my boss (who is also a good friend and played football with my husband in HS) informed me that since he was being required to wear a collared shirt that I had to suffer with him. This translated to wearing a gap blouse with my jeans or flats unless I was in meetings with clients, where I needed to dress more professionally.

I got started wearing high heels my freshman year of HS. Back then they were funky double stap mary janes with a chunky stacked heel. It definately didn't hurt that I had great legs from hours a day of running and most of the guys in my school (at least the ones I dated - cause those were the only ones that mattered, right?) were shorter than my 5'8" in barefeet. Now my taste have moved to the more classic (grown up) styles. About 2 weeks ago I found a georgeous Ann Taylor dress and Jessica Simpson pumps at a resale shop in my area that only accept new or like new clothing. The set new would have run about $150, but I took it home for less than $40. There is no better way to satisfy my cheap side. I swear Clint and I are perfectly matched - him having a whole in his wallet and me being a tight wad. Anyway my amazing find got me on the kick of wearing my heels. I am pulling some of my very favorite shoes (at least in looks) out of their boxes at the top of my closet.

The discovery has got me realizing a few things.
1. I am in desperate need of a pedicure for my peep toes to "work"
2. These things are a cruel form of torture to my feet and spend quite a bit of time off my feet under my desk at work.
3. Most importantly - I love the way they make my legs and ass look (so does hubby)

There is also that 50's glamour factor. The heel kick kiss just cannot be achieved without a high heel - although you will not find me vacuuming the house in heels and pearls a la June Cleaver.

What is your fave thing you love to pull out of your closet and rock you day?

Sep 14, 2009

Is There A Curve On This Test?

I genuinely hope that I am not the only parent in the world that questions if I am a member of the club that would got have gotten my license should that have been a requirement to reproduce. I am one of those people who let's the little things get to them. Amazingly, I am usually calm in a crisis. For those of ou who are not parents the little things can come as often as every 5 minutes if you have overly active children. Christian is just getting into the phase of really testing his boundaries to see how much he can actully get away with. With me, it tends to not be very much. Clint tries to tell me "they're kids, they're not supposed to listen"

Not supposed to listen my ass! So he gets frusterated that I am frusterated at the kids, which makes me more frusterated. I think the base of the problem is spankings (at least from me) have long lost their effectivenss and my voice doesn't command the attention that Daddy's does until I am screaming.

My lack of skills is never more evident than when clint travels. I swore to myself this time would be different. I did well for my first day, and maintained my patience even as both were crying at bed time and begging to sllep with me (which I would be ok with except I don't sleep when they do). Even getting up and off to various schools went well - as well as having night owl children can be.

The problems didn't start until we arrived home tonight. We are in the middle of a forced bathroom renovation due to an A/C drip pan leak. Well, the trash men decided to only pick up a portion of the frame work that was at the curb from our work over the weekend. Guess who got to clean all that up so the grass won't die? Every time I looked up from picking up a few pieces of scrap either the dogs had hi-tailed it down the street or the kids were sneaking into the street with their bikes. Not the best of things cosidering our street gets pretty busy around that time of day, and they are only are allowed in the street when they have undivided attention to supervising them. When christan dragged a rope that he tied to my new truck across the street (and to close for comfort to an oncoming vehicle) I lost it and yelled for everyone to get their hiney's back in the house. Upon dragging my wear bones into the house I made ver clear that if I had to repeat myself even once they would be feeling the sting of a paint stir stick across the backs of their legs. This is only a threat that works solely on the fact that they know someone who actuall used this on their kids. The rest of our evening has gone very well.

I have just been covered with kisses that put a stupid grin on my face. No matter how big a failure I see myself as a "good" parent, m kids manage to remind me that I am doing the important things right.

Sep 13, 2009

Lazy Night

Attempted and failed to mobil post last night, so I will do a redo now.

I am pretty tired toninght so I am phoning it in (literally)(not).  Tonight I leave you with a picture of Leaky eating a slice of the biggest pizza I have ever seen.  It is from Russo's New York Pizzaria and the pizza box took up my entire coffee table.  Luckily we had friends over to help us eat it.  We were glad we have an SUV that the seats could be folded down in or we would never have gotten this monstrosity home, and they don't deliver.  I can't even imagine why.

Sep 11, 2009

This is The Day for Our Generation

This is the day for our generation to say "What were you doing when?".  I remember as a kid, there were days every year that all the grown ups would say. I was _________ when ____________.  The whens would be filled in with when we landed on the moon, when JFK was shot, when Elvis died.  While these events shaped the history of America each in their own special way, none will ever compare to what occurred to our great nation just 8 years ago.  When my kids are old enough to understand (I don't really comprehend how they will ever be old enough) I will tell them about where I was that fateful morning that shaped history and will be studied for centuries to come.  I thought about posting a video to go with this, but just looking at what is out there broke my heart all over again.  I am sure the footage of that day is stamped into our brains for the rest of our lives anyway.

I was 21.  I was entering a very exciting and scary time in my life.  I was not only moving in with my boyfriend (later to become hubs), but we were moving half the country away to do it.  We had been seeing each other since January, and despite spending most of our time in one of our apartments or the other, we had still maintained our independence.  Around April he told me he would be leaving for Florida in the fall to go to school.  We could do long distance, we could say no strings - and see where it goes when he came back, or I could go with him.  I chose the last option. 

I had to leave a week before him to accept a job transfer (I was an assistant manager for an "upscale" apartment community).  I arrived late on Friday September 7th.  I had the weekend to get my bearings and unload my few possessions that had fit in my little truck before starting a job in what seemed like a foreign land.  I spent Monday doing paperwork and figuring out how things ran in my new office.  Tuesday started as a normal day.  I walked to the office at 8:30 (since I lived on-site) and got started with "opening" up the office.  The doors unlocked at 9.  I made the coffee, put the otis spunkmyer cookies  in their special little oven, then turned on the TV in the media room to the news. 

It was about 10 till and what I saw on the screen had me locked in my position.  I heard the anchor say there were reports that it was a plane that had crashed into the building, but they didn't have confirmation of that, and that it could have been accidental.  As I stood there rooted, I watched on live television as the second plane came into view and flew right into the building.  Oh my God, that was no accident!  After the doors had been unlocked and my absence noticed, the media room began to draw a crowd of my co-workers.  We must have stood there in silence for close to an hour.  By then we had found out that another plane had crashed into the Pentagon and yet another was unaccounted for (Later to be discovered to have also been hi-jacked, but crashed into a Pennsylvania field thanks to the courage of those on board). 

Shaking us from our silenced state was the managers cell phone.  The owner of the property was telling us that due to the uncertainty we were going to keep the office open, but only with a skeleton crew (meaning management stayed).  A few hours later the office was closed all together since the Orlando area was deemed to be a vulnerable location should the attack be more wide scale.  I went back to my barren apartment with my dogs Baby Girl and Duck as my only company and a mattress on the floor and a TV without cable as my only luxuries.

I tried in vain for hours to reach Clint.  All cell phones were out, but he was supposed to still be staying in my apartment where the phone line had yet to be shut off.  I was a terrible mess the next day having not heard from him and having to go back to work with all the uncertainty America was now facing.  I finally heard from him late that evening.  His boss had let him off his notice a week early, so he had left on Monday afternoon.  He hadn't told me he was coming early to make it a surprise, hoping to drive through the night and arrive by early Tuesday morning. But had trouble with the U-haul trucks engine and the trailer pulling his truck coming off the hitch.  At first I was upset with him because I had been so worried, but I wasn't alone anymore.

I think the thing that shocked me the most today, has been the lack of hearing about it.  I woke up to the radio on my alarm clock, and listened to the radio all morning (3 different stations depending on where I was) and didn't hear a single word about the signifigance today holds.  I am certain (at least I hope) if my TV had been set to CNN, Fox News, or even the local news rather than nick jr. I would have seen so much about it.  I really hope we, as a country, are not sweeping it under the rug and choosing not to honor the heros and victims of that day in an appropriate way.

Sep 10, 2009

Sex Ed Part Deux

The same blog I referenced yesterday had a second entry in which she has discussions with friends over how "the talk" went.  The first thing she did was go into a justification of her daughter, I would assume to answer several of the negative comments from the previous post.  I guess that is a common issue that we have is the need to justify ourselves to others.  I know that I do it on a regular basis.

The blog goes on the the topic of discussion and how someone brought up having the masterbation talk.  Yikes!  But it didn't stop there.  The ultimate question posed was "Would you buy your daughter a vibrator?"  My eyes could have popped out of my head.  But a day after reading it, these are my thoughts:

  • I will never, ever buy my child a dildo, vibrator, or anyother such thing.  If she gets to a point in her life where she wants one, she can buy it on her own.  I have been to a few Passion Parties in the past.  At one of these parties (it was a pre-bachelorette party) the hostess (and bride's sister) had invited her mom and aunt to attend - and they did.  I don't have very much of a relationship with my mother, so this wouldn't be a factor for me, but I can't say for sure if I would want to attend one of these with my own daughter some day if she were to ask.
  • I think it is important to keep the conversation going, rather than have it be sitting down for one awkward hour and then it is done.  Probably around 10 (I will have to get a feel of what she is ready for) we will get more into what kind of changes her body is getting ready to go through and what that means.  The progressing to what is sex, what happens when you have it (You better not have it cause daddy will break someones neck), and how not to get into situations where you are not in control.
  • I will work my way into the masterbation talk with my children (I am hoping my dear hubs will  handle this with our son and not just hand him some magazines).  I would like to have this discussion before puberty.  Disclaimer...the rest of this bullet point could really be considered TMI so proceed with caution.  About the age of 12, right around the age of the appearance of Aunt Flo, is when I first had the thought to touch myself...you know "down there".  Of course being the curious kid I was, I did.  I can remeber feeling so guilty about it.  I was NOT supposed to "that".  At least that's what I thought.  I didn't know other people did it or that it was completely normal to do so.  Sex wasn't discussed in my house until my parents thought one of us girls were having it.
  • I think a vibrator could do more damage than good.  In the case of a virginal teen whose hymen is still in tact, it could cause pain and bleeding.  The hymen will also be discussed with both of my children, because with my first experience at 16 and my hymen tore, I had no idea what all the bleeding was from.  I certianly wasn't on my period, and was too embarassed to ask anyone.  My poor boyfriend (Asshole that he was) probably had to throw away his underwear to save from getting the 3rd degree from his own mother when she did the laundry.
I could probably go on for quite some time on the subject, and I know I will have to prepare a lot of notes over the next several years so I don't leave something out when we do start having our talks.  Besides look at this girl (whose shirt actually says "I got an A+ in attitude").  She started rebelling as soon as she could talk.  I have no doubt being open and honest with her is the only way to keep her somewhat on my side.

Sep 9, 2009

Sex Ed

I recently read a blog about a local parent having "the" talk with her 12 year old daughter. To open the conversation she handed her daughter a condom and asked if she knew what it was. She did (duh!)and they had a conversation about the sex and the tools out there to make it safe. This woman received so many negative comments about adding to the problem of increasing teenage pregnancy and "What right do you have to be a Mother". It seriously ticked me off.

At the age of 14 I had every intention of remaining a virgin until I was married. I had the strictest of parents who knew where I was at all times (went as far as tracking my mileage when I went to work)to make sure I wasn't off screwing around (literally). I was raised in a Christian home and my grandfather was a Lutheran reverend. I "knew" sex was supposed to be special. That didn't stop me from doing it at 16. A year later my mom faced the facts when I started seeing a guy who was a few years older and sent me off for the first visit with the gyno and to start me on the pill. To be fair to myself (and to keep me from looking like a bigger slut than I may or may not have been) the older guy (on a strange related note - said guy is now married to my husbands cousin) was my second, and I still always used condoms. I had education on my side. Despite this at age 18 I was diagnosed with HPV in the form of pre-cancerous cells on my cervix. I had to go through biopsy and cryosurgery (nitrogen gas is sprayed on to the problem areas inside your lady bits to freeze (kill)them)on my own.

Knowing that abstinence only doesn't always work (it didn't for me) and the fact that I am not willing to lock my kids in a closet till their wedding day (in which I have arranged with another parent that did the same); I will give my kids the knowledge to stay health and non-fertilized in the case that they choose to have sex. Including the HPV shot. That's not saying I will not try to convince them not to have sex. I would really rather they not. I am not naive enough to believe that even if they make it though High School without humping, that will remain the case when they go off to college. I truly believe that knowledge is power.

Sep 8, 2009

Look Ma ... No Training Wheels, Part II Update video

Ok, I know I already screwed up on blogging everyday.  In my defense it was an extremely busy long weekend, and I even used by Blackberry to blog on Saturday rather than skip the entire weekend.

I am so excited to annouce that yesterday I taught my 3 year old son to ride his bicycle without training wheels.  Hubs got some really funny video of him crashing on purpose that I will have to add when I remember to get it off the camera.

While I was really pumped at my amazing skills, it really made me wonder if I hadn't been lazy not teaching Leaky sooner.  We just took her training wheels off a few months ago.  Now, I am no different than most people who hate to hear other moms in a pissing contest..."My kid can ____".  That's nice, My kid can kick your kids ass (we actually had a onsie that said this and both of the kids wore it).  Despite swearing not to get caught up in all the BS, do I use others successes to judge my failures?  If I am completely honest with myself (and anyone reading here), the reason I took off the training wheels in the first place (after asking Christian if he was ready) was because my sister in Wisconsin posted on Facebook last week that she taught my nephew who is a whole 5 days younger than my son to ride his bike.  Holy long sentence Batman.  If she can do it, so can I!  And Christian will have more time to become an expert rider because we have all of about 2 weeks of winter down here, while they snow on the ground for a year and a half at a time (maybe a slight exageration).  So once again it has become my kids better than your kid (not really).

But I do really think we rely on what other parents we know are doing with their kids to determine if our own kids are ready for something.  We didn't teach Leaky to ride, because none of our friends had taught their kids.  We did it at the same time.  We even do it with school.  You can have the kids that practically came out of the womb reading (no not mine) in the same class with kids that are starting to learn their abc's because they don't test well or aren't advanced in math and didn't make it into the GT (gifted and talented) program.  So we are left with my kids smart and your's isn't starting in kindergarten.  I think society as a whole need to figure out there is a learing curve.  Not everyone will master things at the same rate.

I kinda got off on a weird tangent there.  What I really want to get across is that I don't need to make sure my kid keeps up with everyone else and that I am teaching the right things at the right age.  I need to focus myself more to pay attention to what they are ready for.  Because Christian was ready, and it had nothing to do with his cousin Dominic, or my determination that he could do it.  He did it because he wanted to and was really ready to ride without training wheels.

Sep 4, 2009

Can my Words help Someone Else Heal?



Being new to this whole blogging thing, I have been looking to others blogs for ideas.  No not ideas to steal their topics, but more of what I would like to avoid doing.  I find myself struggling from time to time with what I have put out into cyber space.  I wonder if I am funny enough, too serious, too depressing, would I want to read what I just wrote on someone else’s blog.

I know that being true to me is the best way to go; otherwise no one will be fooled.  Despite being all over the place by topic, it is always what is on my mind and completely me.  I have found myself reading others blogs and thinking “Wow, this person has no clue!”  Sometimes you can just tell the person is just blogging to fill space or it’s the in thing to do.    Several I follow just because I can relate.  They are so real and remind me that I can laugh at myself (that and I am not the only mom being driven utterly insane by my children).  Some I read because they make me laugh out loud – eventually my boss is going to realize I am not just laughing at the pile on my desk mocking me as it grows.

Alternately, I have read those who open up their hearts to share deep pain that may indeed help others in similar situations.  Loss of children, miscarriage and infertility are deeply personal and take a great deal of courage to chronicle.  Had I had this type of outlet – or even just the support of knowing there were others out there feeling the same things, during my own miscarriage, I honestly believe the healing process would have been just a little less lonely.  So today I will tell my story.

We had moved to Florida from Texas in September 2001.  I arrived 2 weeks before Clint (otherwise by company wouldn’t honor my transfer) and the weekend before the fateful 9-11.  The day one of my best friends back home called (a couple months later) to tell us she might be expecting I started doing some counting and realized I myself was late.  Rather than worry Clint (he was taking me to the airport to go to training when we got the call) I decided to wait until I knew for sure.  Once we got settled in our hotel I went down to smoke what could likely be my last cigarette for a long while and took the shuttle to the market.  I felt extremely awkward standing at the pharmacy window asking the technician if she could unlock the cabinet and get me out a pregnancy test.  I could just feel the stares and hear the whispers (at least in my mind) “look at that un-married 21 year old girl getting a pregnancy test; she’s not fit to be a parent”.  It’s amazing what you let yourself think in stressful situations.  I went back to my hotel to take the test and of course it was positive (Telling myself “duh, you idiot you’re more than two weeks late”)  In my defense though I have never been regular in my life except when I took the OCP that had me barfing my guts up for the first week of every month.

I waited till the following day to try to settle my nerves (yeah – that really worked out).  Surprisingly, he took it a lot better than I did (and in fact had an idea that I was preggo and didn’t bother to tell me).  So when I got home a few days later we started making plans.  We already knew we where going to get married and when, but did we want to move that date up to before the baby was born.  We told everyone we knew.  And I started trying to find an OB.  They were not in any huge hurry to set up a new patient – many of them were no longer doing OB strictly due to the possibility of litigation that comes along with it.  It was an absolute nightmare trying to find the right doctor.  Finally, I found one that accepted my insurance and was taking new patients.  My first visit would be December 22.

At my company Christmas party on Dec 17th I started cramping and spotting.  So I headed to the closest ER.  Where I sat.  And sat.  And sat.  I was such a huge bundle of nerves by the time they called me back to be examined.  They seemed outraged that I had not had any pre-natal care yet (despite this not being my fault).  Eventually I got in touch with Clint (he was in class) and despite explaining the situation to his instructor was informed if he missed a lecture, it would be a full letter grade off his final grade for the semester.  Ass!  He arrived just in time for me to be taken for an ultrasound after a very painful catheter (did they think my uterus was going to fall out if I peed on my own).  When the results were in the doctor came in to see us.  “Well, you are pregnant, but you aren’t”  Huh???  What the f**k is that supposed to mean?  What it did mean was that the embryo was there, it had just not implanted like it was supposed to, and while it was late in said game for it, it was still possible that it would.  Unlikely, but possible.  Discharge instructions were to comeback Sunday to retest my HCG levels.  We were also informed that no amount of standing on my head would save this baby if it wasn’t meant to happen.  Gee, thanks for the excellent bedside manner.  Saturday was spent just trying to relax and not worry too much – even though the slightest sneeze (which there were many as I have allergies) would send excruciating pain through my abdomen.  That night we went to see whatever Harry Potter movies was in theaters at the time just to try to distract our minds a little.  It happened when we got home from the movie.  I passed a huge clot, which turned out to contain the embryo (yes I took it in to have it examined – I am a lab techs worst nightmare).  They still made me come in Sunday to do blood work and confirmed that the pregnancy had indeed terminated.

Clint was the ideal of supportive during this time.  We supported each other through it and it cemented my belief that I had finally got it right, and found myself a keeper.  Despite how great he was, I was in a relatively new city, state, environment, etc. where I had few friends (most were Clint’s motorcycle mechanic friends from school – not really the sensitive type), and it was 5 days before Christmas – just in time to start receiving Christmas cards with congratulations written in them. It was not until receiving the first of these cards that I was able to cry.  I just felt absolutely numb for days on end. Clint was rarely home since his classes were at night, so I usually only got to spend time with him on the weekends that I didn’t have to work.  I felt so utterly alone.  I started smoking again and found myself drinking alone in my apartments in the evenings.  I hated every pregnant woman and person I saw with a new baby for months.  Luckily the self preservation part of my brain started alarming loudly enough for me to realize I need to did myself out of my hole and have a life.  I did not die with that baby that could have been.  It was still hard, but was able to move forward.  In hindsight, I would not have my Angelique if that baby had survived.  While she drives me absolutely crazy most days, I cannot imagine my life without her.

Sep 3, 2009

I Should Have Run Screaming

Well, If I was a normal person I would have after (more like during) my first date with the hubs.

Background:   I was just weeks out of a 3 year volatile relationship and he was treating me with kid gloves - except when he wasn't (hehehe) just trying to date me.  I had promised myself that since this ill fated relationship was finally over, I was going to be a wild, crazy and single gal for a while.  Clint was not quite on the same page.

We met (though not technically not our first meeting) at a New Year's Eve Party the same night I called off my unofficial engagement (unofficial because he couldn't say the word despite giving me a ring and a dress hanging in my closet).  He also happened to be at the end of a very rocky relationship.  When he walked in the door the first person he saw had a bottle of Parrot Bay tipped up in the air (yours truly) pointed and said "that one's mine".  Yep, a true romantic I have on my hands.  Being determined to stay on my single path however, I refused to date him.  Somehow (I'm guessing my cousin had something to do with it) he started showing up at her house every time I was over there or there was a group event planned.  BTW:  Pauley Shore in person,,,funnier than I thought he would be - but that could have been the booze.  Finally, after him being everywhere I was going anyway I agreed to go on a date with him.

He picked me up - did I mention we lived on opposite sides of Houston (for outsiders that might not mean much, but that means an hour plus when traffic is cooperating) - and took me to dinner at a cool South American place where they bring around rotisserie meats and fruits and cut off the portions you want at the table.  While we were dining (that word sound so much more grown up than stuffing our faces) he got a page.  Yes, a page.  It was only 2001 folks and pagers weren't considered dinosaurs - yet.  He thought he might be getting called into work so he went to call the number back.  It turns out it was just his friends (all of whom he has known since HS and some longer), and they were planning to go see a movie and wanted him to come along.  He told them he would ask if I was ok with it.  Then before hanging up he made the fatal mistake "Don't embarrass me"!

Before going to meet the friends we had to go by his mom's to see another friend who was only in town for the evening.  This part was pre-planned and I knew we were going to do this, since he didn't want to break his date with me (I might not have re-scheduled it...bitchy huh?) and see his friend also.  It went really well.  I had never met parents on the first date before (more like after 6 months).  After a short visit and smoking as many cigarettes as possible we headed for the friends.  Ominous thought racing through my head.

Lets just say Clint was right to worry.  Two of the guys ran out to meet us and lock me in a big bear hug (did I mention I have never met these people before?).  But there is more.  Jeremy is 6'3" and looked every bit of the HS football player he had been (he is also now my boss) and Shawn is more like 5'8" and has a stalky build.  The group had collectively brainstormed what they could possible do to embarrass the hell out of Clint and chase off the newest gal pal (my hubs, he was a man slut before he got lucky enough to find me, and he liked the dumb ones).  Their plan involved the wardrobe of a former stripper that Shawn was dating.  The embarrassment came with when they ran out - on a public street - to hug me - these two men boys had squeezed themselves into stripper attire.  Shawn was decked out in a white full lace body suit with tighty whiteys underneath and lucite stripper heels.  Jeremy  was wearing a gold lame' tube top and matching mini skirt, but he couldn't get his gargantuan size 15 feet into the stripper heels!

I think the fact that I thought this was funny high-larious solidified my place among the group as well as with Clint.  Thinking back I should have insisted they go to the movie like that.  What might you have done in the same situation?

Sep 2, 2009

Thank you for Asking

I know, no one really asked and Ed already knows, but I want you all to be in on the inner working of me.  Pay attention there will be a quiz later.  Or not, because that sounds like a lot of work.  Okay my peeps (every time I type that I think of those marshmallow peeps you get at Easter - that they now make for other Holidays too - that I absolutely cannot stand but hubs loves) so for today I am going to tell you 13 of things about me (I will come back and fill in the number after I run out of thing to bore you enlighten your day with.   My annoying 7th Grade English teacher is in my head yelling "Run-on, Run-on, Run-on", because obviously that would make me want to fix the error of my ways.  Or maybe I will just leave it blank...you never can tell...my mind wanders.  Yay...I remembered!

Without further adieu...
  1. I am a nerd.  I have no problems pouring over old True Crime books (and have a 3" thick one on my night stand right now) and used to be addicted to Court TV - before they changed to TruTV and became lame-o.  I can think of nothing better than going back to college to get a degree focusing around forensics (not the greatest idea lately when local crime lab is gettin' national attention in a bad way (i.e. Houston).
  2. I do not like ice cream (hey where did everyone go...its not like I said I shoot puppies).  I am guessing my aversion to the sweet creamy stuff has something to do with my dislike of most things dairy (except cheese...gotta love the cheese).  That and I'm not a huge fan of sweets.
  3. I am addicted to salty things.  Chips, fries, popcorn.  I love them all.  Do NOT leave me alone in a room with them.  They may (will) be gone when you return.
  4. I do not like to talk on the phone (okay or really off the phone).  Most of my family have to call me for a short convo every few months just to make sure I'm still kickin'.  Now all bets are off if I've had a drink or two.  Nope, then you can't shut me up (and I may forget to edit myself so much - but that belongs in a  post all itself)!
  5. I was born in the 80's (1980 to be exact) and have a love (read: obsession) for things in that decade.  Despite this love, these things expired in the 80's and should stay there (Brett Michaels, shoulder pads, tutu skirts over leggings, need I continue...'cause I can)
  6. I am afraid of ducks.  When I was about 15 I took my baby brother to one of the ponds in our neighborhood to feed the ducks.  When we ran out of bread, I picked him up to leave (he was only 3), the ducks got kinda pissed I guess 'cause they came chasin' after me nipping at my feet and legs the their evil orange beaks.  I have not let this detract from my own children's right of passage to feed the creatures.  We just always make sure I have a good amount of space between myself and them.
  7. I am the oldest of 7 (however none of us share both of the same parents and 1 is a step).  Here is the order of things: Cara (me - duh), Leah (step), Andrea, David, Stuart, Jennifer, Brian (last 2 are twins).
  8. I like to sew.  Why yes I am an old fogie, thanks for noticing.  When Angelique was little (and I didn't work so I had some time) I made dresses for her.  I even made her first 2 Halloween costumes.  I have pics, just not here.  Mayhaps when I get my external HD back from the in-laws I will find some.
  9. I have taken apart a motorcycle.  When we lived in FL (I hate that place - rained every F-in day) hubs was in motorcycle mechanics school and would occasionally do some work for extra money.  So to spend time with him, I wrenched too.
  10. PhotobucketI was very pregnant (7-1/2 mo) during my wedding (and I wore white - the horrors).  Yes, people talked and you know what, they didn't have to be there "you are welcome to leave...no leave the present there...next time you will learn to whisper"!  Not only that, we decided we were going to have a FUN wedding.  Renaissance/Biker theme on the books and our friends are still talking about it 7 years later.
  11. I was one of those rather annoying people who only gain the "right" amount when pregnant, but am now paying for it nearly 4 years post partum and being heavier than I ever was preggo.  Damn hormones - I'm gonna blame it on the Mirena (even though they say it doesn't have any known side-effects).
  12. I am stubborn.  No, really...I refuse to see a doctor till I'm on my death-bed.  I waited 2 days (till we got home) after a 4-wheeler accident in Puerta Vallarta in which I thought I broke my writs.  They said I didn't break it but it was a severe sprain so I wore the brace for 2 weeks but did not rest it (I went back to work 5 days after the accident where I type all day).  Now 15 months later it is not completely healed, as in I cannot get into the pushup position (not that I want to) without extreme pain and I am still refusing to see a doctor.
  13. I don't really have regular friends.  Mostly I have aquaintances and best friends.  I don't really open up to people until I really trust them and then they have no chance of getting away.  I will just stalk them until they realize I am not going anywhere and subject to the fact that I am in their life forever!  Like ED (although I am beginning to believe our combined crazies have developed a co-dependence)!

Sep 1, 2009

The Birth of Ed and Timon - Sorry Pumba, No One Wanted to be a Pig

I might be crazy, but I might just try to blog every day this month.  Who knows, maybe (my paid) people will come over and read what pours out of my jumbled mind on a daily basis.  Then again, I may end up driving away the few peeps that actually read what I write (haha I said peeps - I'm so coolio now) when they realize I really am just crazy.  Except for ED.  I don't think I could scare you away with a stick after everything we have been through together.  In fact, I think you will be my topic for today.

I actually met my bestest friend Rachel during our freshman year in HS.  I was in track and she was in band, so we didn't bond over any shared extra curriculars.  I met Rachel because I was boy crazy (no, no I was not a slut - yet).  One of my track friends - Shannon - was in a geography class with one of the track guys who was a junior that I had an itsy bitsy crush on (What was I thinking).  So I would hang out in Shannon's class sitting crossed legged on someone's desk hoping to catch a glimpse of my crush.  When the minute bell rang I would haul ass to my Spanish class (at the other side of the school - hey I was pretty fast back then).  The crush ended being a lame-o ass-wad that after I dumped decided I was too stuck up for him (ha!) and the desk I was sitting on was Rachel's.  The following semester we had home-ec together so we partnered up since we were the only ones either of us kinda knew.  We were inseparable from that time forward.  I was the only non-band geek that was allowed to hang in the band hall.  I have to say, I got to know some really cool people that way that I wouldn't have otherwise.
On to the nick-names... around our junior year we decided we needed a new code for our notes..yes, we wrote notes, hello we her teenage girls in high school.  If you didn't then you're lying.  NE-ways...we had to have code because so many of the people we wrote about (i.e. bitchy girls, crushes, evil teachers) were around us and often could see what we were putting down on paper.  So, since Lion King (this should not be coming as a surprise to you given the names above) was so big during that time, this served as our reference for our names.  I wanted to be Timon (mostly for the little dance he does to distract the hyenas - OY!).  She chose ED - you know the maniacal laughing hyena.  All crush interest had the name Simba...the adorable little lion cub.  By the time we outgrew this (went to college) the number of Simba's had reached well over 20...what, I said I was boy crazy.  Our little code got quite a bit of verbal usage too since my "first" who I dated all summer (and worked with) dumped me 1 week after this 1st experience and 1 week before school started (because I wasn't a senior and he was) then chose my locker as the place to make out with new (senior) gf.  She was known as Scar.  I to this day have doodle drawings (I didn't keep the notes - just the pretty pics) using these names, and it makes me laugh when I run across them in boxes with my old art work.

Anyone out there have any unique nicknames with cool (or lame - head hung in shame) stories behind them?