I Blame My Mother

Yes, I do. She volunteered for it. She did! She laughed to hard when her friend told her right before Christmas that she was going to be a great-grandma. Well, now my mom is too. That's right. Senorita Psychopath is pregnant. This lovely bombshell was suspected last week and confirmed last night.

I am going to be a grandmother. At 35. I know it could be worse. I'd just prefer that it was better than this. Uh huh.

When I finally find my sanity again, I'll create another post.

(I'll be able to cope enough to nickname this one too, eventually, right? Right?!)

In the meantime, anyone have a meat grinder?

Hippo Gnu Deer

Happy New Year! Blah blah blah, yak yak yak. I know I should be more enthusiastic than this, but I'm just too exhausted. My Christmas spirit left me about a week before Christmas. I swear to all that is holy (or unholy) that Santa is only bringing gift certificates next year. They take up soooo much less space than all the other crap he brings. NOT that I dislike the jolly fat man. In fact, I adore him. He always brings me the neatest little gifts. Yes, folks, Santa still comes for me. Of course, it's my mom, but still...it's the whole idea. She and I fill each other's stockings and buy one or two Santa gifts for each other every year. It's great. Except for trying to find room for all the crap afterwards. I mean, we took 3, count 'em..3, Christmas tree type storage totes to my mother's this year...each full of stuff. Trust me, they were just as full if not more so, coming home. Of course, we also took two dogs, three children, and one bunny. The hamster was left behind to guard the house. (Hopefully, he's rabid) The return totes are obvious evidence that my mother "cut down" this year. Snort! Right! Uh huhn. Sure. "I'm cutting down" is all I've heard since last year when we had to open gifts in shifts at her place. So, in the whole spirit of that ordeal, my family left our "each other" presents home to be opened and only took over there for the giant family name-draw get-together thing, Santa stuff, and for Mom. Now, each of the kids had a total of 6 presents from Santa. My mother had a total of 14 presents from my family. For the name=draw thing, each person in our family had at least 2 gifts for their person. I must say one of the totes was filled with only gift bags since those crush so easily, but still...good grief. That was just OUR stuff. I really did cut back. My mother, on the other hand, for all of her talk...each kid had at least 10 packages from her under that tree. And what did she say? "Christmas isn't about presents alone...but it is for kids." Ohhh-kay. Fine. If my family hadn't left our 'each other' stuff at home, we'd have been opening in shifts again. I know part of the problem last year was the size of some of the gifts. I mean, Santa brought my oldest a really, really long sword. The box was at least 5 feet long. That took up some space.

Enough of that. On to baby stuff. I've been sharing some wonderful pregnancy and delivery stories with Wendy. Like peeing on any stitches afterwards is sooo much fun, and how the lovely nurses like to come in within hours of delivery and start pushing on your belly...which is full of extremely sore muscles. Or how the pain-killing injection they give you before stitching you goes directly into to cut or tear and burns oh so pleasantly. OH, and my personal favorite, being the one to explain to her that when they check to see how far you are dilated, it's not a visual thing until right before the baby pops out...it's a hands, er...fingers, on type of thing. Also pleasant. Am I evil? Oh yeah! However, I've also shared a few truly comforting tips with her. Like a little Vaseline strategically smeared on a pad can relieve the itchy, dry, burnies when stitches begin to heal.Or using one of those squirty-type water bottles full of warm water to douse yourself with the first few days of peeing post-delivery. I have other, nearly as handy tips to share, but I'm holding those back. Why? Because I have sooo many of the other kinds of stories to share too. Doesn't every mom? Eventually, they'll even out. If they didn't, no woman would have more than one child. I still believe the powers that be got seahorses and humans mixed up, though. I mean, really. What a deal those female seahorses have! They impregnate the males. The males give birth...to live babies! Hundreds of them at a shot! The females do hang around for moral support. Well, maybe they just want to make sure the guys don't screw it up. Damn it. In one of my next lives, I want to be a female seahorse.

More baby stuff. I found the cutest flannel and fleece for making baby blankets for Sharkbait and Pillsbury! I made receiving blankets for Bug, plus one of those tie-together fleece blankies for him last year. That fleece blanket is his favorite. Yes, I know Sharkbait and Pillsbury are summer babies, but they will still be babies in winter. Besides, the material is too cute to pass up. And the blankets are oh so easy to make! I don't even need a sewing machine. (Thank god, cuz I can't operate one)

There is even some joking that Batman wants me to come take his place in the delivery room. Fine with me. So long as I can wear chainmail. I'm not stupid. I know Wendy. She'll bite me. Other than that, she can be as mean to me as she wants. Nothing new there. Besides, it would be very nice to see a baby born from the not-so-painful side of the event. Of course, I keep threatening to bring the camcorder along. For some reason, Wendy fails to see the humor in that.

No more baby stuff. Out of other things to babble about. Resolutions? Nah. Gave those up for Lent years ago and never picked them back up. Nasty habit resolutions. I prefer to just wallow in my current nasty habits. They make me entertaining and easier to live with. Just ask Wendy.

Fetal Nicknames

Another fetal nickname has been born! I have decided, after reading her blog, that Queenie's baby is now dubbed Pillsbury. I'm not sure if I'm the first to say it or not, nor do I care. I will continue to call him(?) that until I'm threatened with bodily injury. Wendy & Batman have Sharkbait. Another friend, Spanky, nicknamed a different preggers friend's baby Little Sprout. Grasshopper and Twitch called theirs Bug. My oldest was Tater Tot. My middle one was Boochi. For those of you who remember Perfect Strangers, it came from the Boochi Tag game. Since I was preggers, I claimed to be carrying the Boochi. My cousin, Munchkin, told me that when the baby was born I'd better name it Dmitri. I did not, but she forgave me anyway. My youngest was always known as The Fairy Child. My middle child's teacher last year became preggo and they referred to the baby as Lumpy or Lump. Of course, there's always the stand-by of Spawn of Doom, right Batman? Sorry. Couldn't resist. No matter. Gotta love fetal nicknames. Hmm. I feel a book coming on.

Manic Spewing

The holidays are fast upon me, and every year, about this time, the Christmas spirit abandons me. Why? Too much wrapping and general shit. My goodness, there's so much commercial shit associated with the holidays, it makes me want to puke. Plus, packing to go to my mom's, doing the whole "Santa" thing, trying to figure out a way to avoid my swiftly approaching birthday, and so on and so on. The good news? Finals are over! Wendy is preggers. Queenie is preggers! My son's girlfriend is NOT preggers! I'm done shopping except for two damned giftcards. I am healthy. My family is healthy. I do not have to go to work again until next year. I get two weeks(almost) where the kids have school and I do not. I can read a book for pleasure again. I came up with a nickname for Wendy's baby -- Sharkbait! OOO Ha Ha! Well, just Sharkbait. Either way, it fits. You know, the whole tadpole thing? Plus, Batman used to want to swim with sharks or study sharks or some such. And people who swim with sharks tend to get eaten by sharks. Duh! Apparently, that has at least been delayed, so now the baby is "Sharkbait" (ooo haha). I'm also now required to grace the area with my presence over the summer since that's when the little bundle of joy will arrive. Fine by me. I can spoil the baby rotten, then get on a plane and leave. Yep. There are definite advantages to living so far away. Mmmhmmm. Yeah.

In other news, I decided in November to run my mouth via Letter to the Editor of the university's newspaper regarding some proposed changes to the Housing Assistance Program. It was printed as a Guest Opinion. The Housing Administrator (local) wrote to me about it. I now have a meeting with him right after Christmas. I sent a bunch of related items to Senators Grassley and Harkin and to Congressman Leach. Senator Grassley took an immense interest in it and wrote me back personally. I, if you cannot tell, am extremely pleased with myself. All things considered, not bad for a short, rotund, mouthy, (s0rt-of) redhead who won't even have a Bachelor's until May 2006. Yippee! Maybe it won't go anywhere, but maybe it will. For the record, no, I will not be entering the political arena any time soon. Or ever. Nope. Ever see what happened to Mussolini? JFK? Yeah. Exactly. Of course, Mussolini was insane and inhumane. I am not inhumane. The jury's still out on the insanity issue. Oh, and don't forget Clinton...Bill, not Hilary. We shot JFK and we impeached Clinton. For having an affair, basically. Hmm. And yet, no one seems to mind that Bush, Jr., has gotten so many killed with his lies. Of course, depending on the conspiracy theory one subscribes to, JFK was shot for much the same reason. Plus, it got poor Marilyn offed. Poor Marilyn.

Oh, and does anyone watch The Daily Show? It appears that South Africa allows gay marriages. Not civil unions, actual marriages. And the US considers ourselves a global leader? Hmph.

Anyway, I hope everyone has a wonderful holiday season. For anyone living in a warmer climate, make room, I'm heading South as soon as I rob the bank. I'm sick of Iowa frigidity and snow. Other than that, enjoy! Ho ho ho! Merry Christmas! Happy New Year! Happy All-the-other Holidays that aren't as commercialized!

Everyone's Pregnant but Me! Yes!

Do you have any idea how hard it is to type and dance at the same time? It isn't easy, but I'm managing it. You see, I am extremely thrilled with Wendy's news! I'm more excited than she seems to be. Not that I blame her. See, until my hysterectomy, I was one of those women who didn't ovulate...I pollinated! Let me even think about having a baby, and POOF! Pregnant. Lucky me. Very, very lucky me. And while I recognize this and have sympathy for those who have so many terrible issues having a child, I'm beyond thrilled that Wendy is finally pregnant. And I'm not! I'm not, I'm not, I'm NOT! Impossible for me to be and I like it that way. So, let's see, Wendy's preggers, Queenie's preggers, I'm sure millions of other women are preggers, and I'm not! Yee-haw! Of course, Grasshopper is not preggers. Nor is my other friend Spanky. Spanky would like to be, though she is prefering to take the conventional route and wait for a husband. Grasshopper about crawls through the phone to strangle me if I even mention a pregnancy test and her name in the same sentence. (I do this as often as humanely possible because it's fun to hear her rant) Several of the girls I went to DMACC with are pregnant. And none of them are me! Which is fine, because no one could pay me enough to do it again. I love my children. I actually enjoyed being pregnant for the most part. I could have done without all the vomiting, but I made up for it in waaay easy deliveries. Deliveries were easy. Pain filled, but easy. No C-sections, no epidurals. With my first two, no drugs at all. My youngest was the only one and I wish I hadn't had anything. Talk about a weird trip! Whew. And despite my eldest's recent issues, my kids are pretty much healthy and intelligent. Once again, I thank the powers that be for that every day. However, between being so excited for Wendy's Christmas miracle and being so happy that all the pregnant women I know are not me, I can barely contain myself. This took me half an hour to write because I kept screwing up and having to fix errors. I'm not sure if it's from dancing and typing at the same time or simply because I can't dance. Which is another post altogether. At any rate, Congratulations Wendy & Batman! Auntie Frigid can't wait for the wee one! Oh, and Wendy, the tadpole look vanished about 4 weeks ago.

Manic Moment Narrowly Avoided

Next week is Finals Week! Hoooraaay! Under normal circumstances, the stress of finals, the holidays, my upcoming birthday (ish!), and the lovely Iowa weather combine to give me one major manic moment. There are benefits to this: a clean house, gift-wrapping sprees, great periods of study time where it actually sinks in. Things like that. The downside? Extreme crabbiness, a tendency to wake up with 15 minutes until the final, kids missing the school bus, waking up the house because I'm fighting with the vaccuum, the wrapping paper, the scotch tape, whatever. Well, for a change (so far), I have managed to avoid the Moment. How, you ask? Okay, I'll tell you my secret. First, you must have school-aged children. Then, one of these children must catch a cold. The cold should mutate into a sinus infection that said child gives your significant other. You must kiss or otherwise be intimate with said significant other. Wa-la! Within 24 hours, you get the sinus infection. Okay, not the best way to avoid a manic moment, but it's working. The meds and the infection are crashing my sinuses (sinusi?) every four hours, my right eye has a headache, and I about die every time I bend over to pick something up off my floor, but I'm sleeping and oh so NOT manic. I could feel one coming on, too. I started my usual cycle of nightmares late last week and my sleep time was shortening. Now, thanks to NyQuil and other OTC products, I'm sleeping a decent amount of time. Thanks to bribery and threats of bodily injury, my family is pitching in to save the house. Wrapping can wait until after finals. I am studying between naps and seem to be retaining the information. I've even managed to cook a few meals instead of using take-out or the microwave. This is working so well, I think I'll make notes and try it next time I feel one of my Moments coming on. Wonder if I can buy a sinus virus on ebay?

Course Assignment Sheet

This looks horrible, but I can't seem to clear it up any. The survey will be available via email only. Sorry!

Beware Washington State!

I almost forgot!
**WARNING WARNING DANGER DANGER!!**
Seeings how I am being awarded a GUARANTEED extra undisclosed amount of money this spring, which is a miracle, I...the dauntless wanderer (if only in my mind)...will be heading to good ole WA this summer! Finally! I am buying tickets as soon as the financial blessings arrive. Mmmmwwwaaaaaaaahhh!

To top it off, since the recycled hubby has been invited to a wedding in July in TN that I am most certainly NOT invited to (and wouldn't go anyway), it gives me the perfect excuse to be gone too! If he gets a vacation, why shouldn't I?

At any rate, those friends and co-conspirators (and you know who you are) living in the Great American Northwest, consider this your only warning...well, aside from my arrival time at the airport since one a y'all has to come drag my panic-stricken ass off the damn plane and take me to a bar.

I was going to try to bring Grasshopper with me, but she's afraid Twitch would forget to feed the baby. At least that's the excuse she's using...what's she really afraid of is an airplane. Not that I blame her. I've tried bribery. I even offered to share my pre-flight paranoia drugs with her. She still says no. Maybe that's a good thing. I'm not sure you guys'll be able to handle just me, much less another one of my asylum-mates. Hmph. Too many of you out there as it is.

I"m Soooo Not Ready for This One

I have recently discovered that my eldest son is no longer pure. I believe this is a fairly recent event. However, Senorita Psychopath has been actively trying to become pregnant for the last year, even before she got with him. He says he has condoms and they've discussed the use of contraception. Uh huh. Yeah. That's how I conceived him. Actually, I just lied and told his father I was on the Pill. At any rate...I'm just waiting. I figure that I ought to be a grandma some time next year. I'll be 35 next month. At least I waited until my mom was 38. And, it's illegal to lock him in a closet. Or to cut his thing off. Or to have her disemboweled. No matter how pleasant a thought it might be.

Squashed Feline

There are two cats who live outside my home. These are not my cats. My landlord brought them here hoping they would eat mice and rats. Which they do. They also like bunnies and birds. However, they do not consume groundhog. Not even baby ones. I don't know, maybe the groundhogs are too quick for them. I do know they look extremely humorous when running. At any rate, these poor kittens showed up last year and where still sort of nursing. So, being the soft heart that I am, I began feeding them. They go in spurts: some weeks they eat daily, others not at all, and still others they will eat, but they insist on bringing me dead animals. I know they're just showing their affection, but it's still gross. At any rate, the screen is missing from my screen door. The storm window is up, but only shut about 2/3's of the way. This means the cats can hang there and look into my living room and yowl at me when they want food or attention. Also fine. It's rather cute, actually. One of these cats has figured out that he can squeeze himself through the window fairly quickly, thereby gaining entry to the house if he times it just right. This is also very humorous to watch, since he's big enough now that it looks something akin to one of those cheap horror movie monsters trying to crawl out of a drain in the kitchen sink. Last night, it was even more funny. Our inside door was shut. The cat had been let in and allowed to steal some of the dog's food and put back out already. Apparently, this wasn't good enough, he wanted to stay inside, and he crawled through the screen door and perched himself against it and the inside door (which is mainly small glass panes) and mewed till he got to come back in and get warm. I tried to put him back out before I did my final, before-bed check. Within minutes, his head appears at the window, to be followed quickly by his body climbing through. This time, instead of sticking there clinging to both doors, he fell completely through and became stuck between the doors. All I could see was his tail, his ears, and tufts of fur sticking up along his back. By the time I got over to the door, I could see how squashed he was in there, and I'm laughing so hard I can barely turn the knob to open the door. Poor guy. He took it well though. I took it as a sign to come up with a makeshift litter box for him and let him stay in for the night. He slept curled next to my daughter most of the night, allowed himself to be fed (twice) this morning, received some cuddling and petting, then proceeded to stare at the front door, willing it to open (use the force, Nails*) until I got off my just waking up, lazy, haven't had enough caffeine or tar yet ass and let him out...where he promptly jumped onto the ledge of our porch, glared at me before doing that wink thing only cats can do, and started to bathe himself thoroughly. If I'd had presence of mind enough, I'd have taken pictures of him with the digital when he was stuck between the doors. Unfortunately, I was too busy laughing. Usually when I see a squashed feline, it's because it's been in a tragic traffic accident.

* Nails is the cat's name. No, I did not give him this. The landlord's kids did. Nails and his brother Claws both spend time with me.

Say Hello to My Li'l Frien'

Calcium. Yes. Calcium. Calcium is my new little friend. Why? Because my tailbone is eroding. Yes, ladies and germs, my ass has environmental issues. Not only was it recently awarded it's own zip code, it now has erosion problems. Or, as my mother so eloquently put it, not only am I a pain in other people's asses, I now have a literal pain in my own ass. Duh! I thought that's what children and men were for. I was wrong.
I went to the doctor for this information. I've been having an issue with moderate pain in my tailbone area for the last several weeks. This makes sitting for any length of time almost impossible. However, I haven't fallen, been fallen on, lifted anything overly heavy, or been in any accidents. To me, that eliminates a broken tailbone. Ha ha! I was right! I also appear to have no other problems wiht my back, according to the doc, so from what he can tell, it's simply eroding. Why? Not enough calcium. Which floors me. I love cheese. I like yogurt. I eat veggies. The right kind. I even take a mulit-vitamin when I remember it. I do not drink milk. Nope. Makes me nauseous. Quickly. Especially in the mornings. I think that is a psychological hold-over from the acute morning sickness I had while being allergic to being pregnant with my two sons. (I had next-to-no morning sickness with the girl)
I'm supposed to carrya pillow with me to sit on at school since those desk chairs are not environmentally friendly to preventing ass erosion. Which makes me feel like an idiot. Personally, I figured there was enough padding in my ass to protect it. Wrong again. Of course, today being the middle of midterms, I rushed out the door and forgot to bring one. Figures.
I also had the strangest doctors I've ever met with. One was very much Asian descended and had the most unpronoucable name ever. He just told me to call him Dr. Gary. Fine. After looking over my ass, we moved on to my feet. I also have this weird dryness/athlete's foot type issue with my feet that's been going on for years. I'm sick of it. so he calls in his "boss doctor" as he called him. This guy takes one step into the room, glances at my feet, and says, "Yup, they're feet. All the toes are there. See ya!" And pretends to walk out. Okay, it was funny.
Now, I am extremely ticklish on my feet. While they were messing with my toes, I about kicked them both in the face twice. Does this deter them? No. In a few minutes, they whip out this green handled thing to scrape my feet with for samples so they can check to see what exactly is happening on my feet. Fine. Until I look at it. I ask them what the hell they plan on doing to me with an Exacto knife while I'm still awake. They laugh. I'm informed that "it's a scalpel, hello" and that they aren't going to carve on me, just scrape my nails and along my heels. Right! So the boss doc, makes me lay down then pins my ankles to the cot/bed thing so I can kick or jerk and cut myself. Cut myself? Um, I'm not the one with the scalpel, am I? I lived. No cuts. No kicking or jerking. A lot of squealing, lip-biting, and cot pounding went on. Wait. That doesn't sound right. I mean I was squealing and biting my lips from being tickled and pounding the cot with my fists to keep from jerking away. That's better.
At any rate, not only is my ass eroding. And not in a good way. But I also seem to have some sort of bizarre fungus or bacteria growing on and possibly in my feet. Great. Just great.

There's a fungus among us...and this time, it's me. And now, folks, I'm off to call the EPA to see if I can get some grant money or a study done or some kind of legislative act to prevent my ass from eroding any further. Hey, if those rich Texas oil-mongers can get money, I ought to be able to.

Oh My F***ing God!

Here is an actual email (with edits only made for safety) I received from my child's school today. Talk about scary!

October 13, 2005

Dear ***** Families,

We have recently become aware of an adult male who has been observing **** High students from the property to the west of **** High School's boundary. This individual is listed on the sexual offender registry. The Police have informed us he has been on the church property to the west on more than one occasion. While the police have notified us he has broken no laws, we are working with the appropriate legal authorities to enact additional restrictions regarding his presence near our campus grounds. This individual, who drives a red blazer, now has a legal order restricting him from being on the school district's campus grounds at any time. We would like everyone to be aware of this information.

At *****, we will continue to keep our building and children secure by following our normal safety procedures that were shared in our Friday, October 7th ***** ******, and heightening our awareness. Classroom teachers have discussed "stranger danger" in homerooms today and will continue to discuss general safety rules. Children who are in the temporary classrooms outside will now be coming in and out of the building as a class.

To help our children become knowledgeable and aware, it is important to have discussions at home.
Some rules that may be great to review/reinforce are:
· Don't answer a stranger's personal questions or requests for help.
· Tell your teacher if a stranger is watching children in school or on the playground.
· Don't use public bathrooms alone. Be sure to leave as soon as you can.
· Don’t give information over the telephone to strangers.
· Don't answer the door unless you know who's there, and your parents have said it is OK.
· Never accept presents from a stranger.
· Do not obey a stranger who wants to take you somewhere, even if they say they are teachers, police officers, or clergymen.
· NEVER, NEVER GO FOR A RIDE OR A WALK WITH A STRANGER.
(Taken from Who Is a Stranger and What Should I Do? by Linda Walvoord Girard)
Some additional questions you may want to discuss with your child:
· Is it ever OK to help a stranger?
· When should I be polite to a stranger?
· Whom can I trust in our neighborhood?
· Who can I accept a ride from?
· When I'm away from home, who can I trust?
· When is it NOT OK to obey grownups?
· Does our family have any special rules about strangers?

Together, we will continue to provide a safe environment for our children to ensure success. Thank you for your ongoing support.

Thank you,

**** ******
Principal

Not only does the risk of panic with this run extremely high, but to be honest, I'm not sure that's a bad thing. I'm sorry, but I'm all for chemical castration, actual castration, whatever it takes to keep perverts locked up or otherwise away from any child. Plus, I've read this book mentioned in the email, and it's an excellent resource for parents. The only problem is, not every perv is a stranger. I speak from first hand experience. This instance, it is a stranger menacing children, however, it isn't always. At any rate, I'm thoroughly pertrified and beyond pissed off at our justice system's apparent lack of public protection when it comes to these sickos. All I can say is, whoever this jerk is, one step towards one of my kids will result in a strong desire for the police to catch him before I do. Prison doesn't scare me. People like this? They scare me. They're all over and they look like the next door neighbor. And sometimes, they are.

To top it off, shortly after being told by my daughter that there was something I would be getting from school (the above email), my middle child fell from a hayloft in a barn about 10 feet to land directly on top of a wooden beam type thing. He hit his knees and his arm. One knee swelled up about six times its normal size within minutes. He couldn't walk on it or anything. That was a trip to the emergency room. After two hours of waiting and a couple x-rays, we're informed that he bruised the bone. Apparently, this is quite painful, but not dangerous. At least it wasn't broken. Of course, he's miserable, trying to keep it elevated, taking ibuprofen, and feeling bound up in an Ace wrap. Plus, he's pissed that he didn't get crutches since 1) the attention they draw; 2) he's proud he can use them and I can't; and 3) he swears it hurts too much to walk on still. Arggh! Get one kid partially straightened out adn this one tries to break himself! I'm just gonna buy stock in Prozac, Ace, and reserve my straight-jacket-padded-room-white-coated-attendant lifestyle now. Save myself the hassle. The next one to be a teenager is a girl!

Pack your bags, Matey, we're going on a guilt trip! (it's going to be a bumpy ride)

Parenthood is one life-long guilt trip if one allows it to be. Seriously. You spend a lot of time analyzing decisions you’ve made, choices, activities, and so on. Face it, no one is perfect, and whether the State of Iowa says so or not, children do not come with instruction manuals. Even when kids are 16 or 34 (according to my mother) you often wonder, after-the-fact, if you did right by doing or saying such and such. Well, you can either let it get you down, or you can realize, hopefully, what mistakes you made and move on.
That being said, do you know how hard it is to do it? Oh yeah. Kind of like forcing yourself to swallow very bitter medicine. You know it’s good for you and can only help, but that doesn’t always make the spoon get to your mouth any faster. I’ve been a mother for over 16 years. I have three children: each of them intelligent, beautiful, and decent. I also have three children with attitudes, personal issues, and medical issues who can turn into monsters at the drop of a hat. What parent doesn’t? But, just because I’ve been a parent for 16 years, doesn’t mean I have all the answers. I’ve never had a teenager before. Even with my younger children, while I have had a 14 year old and an 8 year old before, each child is different, and that makes parenting slightly different for each one. I recognize that, but then comes the question of: is that fair? Is it fair to the oldest one that he’s the one that gets the parenting mistakes? Is it fair to the younger two that sometimes what the older one has done comes back to haunt them? Arrrgh! I know I signed up for this when I got pregnant and decided to have a child and be a mom. I just don’t remember ever learning about this in any class or from any of my friends or family.
Okay, that trip’s over for now. On to the next one. Do I have the right to still be upset with my recycled hubby’s behavior from when we were married before? That may sound strange and pretty cut and dry, but it isn’t. At least I don’t think it is. I know he’s changed, matured, grown up. We both have. But, there are little things that haven’t changed, and frankly, some of them aren’t so little right now. Still, considering the situation with us, his son here, his sons in MN, and all, do I really have the right to bitch? My middle child is so messed up from my past choices, not having King Rat around for so long, and with the crap with his brother, I’m not sure now is the time to bring anything up to rock his boat any more. But if I don’t, nothing will change, nothing will resolve itself, and no one ends up happy. Including him. Grr!
Okay. I’m done. If I keep this up, it’ll turn into a week long thing. And no one wants that. Especially me.

Another Moment Gone Way, Way Manic

So due to a variety of circumstances, I'm manic...again. Duh. I expected it and it's fairly under control. So far, I have not called Wendy or Grasshopper singing stupid cartoon songs, run naked in my driveway to terrify my landlord, or gone on a check-bouncing spree. Trust me, folks, check-bouncing is an all-time favorite Manic Moment pasttime for me. It's also a great way to get arrested. I speak (er, type) from personal experience. Nothing like having your uncle and grandmother come bail you out of jail two counties away at midnight. I digress. Also that was over three years ago. At any rate, in case you can't tell by my post, I'm a titty-bit disorganized in my thought processes. This is not that unusual given that I do have children, my current home situation, and being a full-time glutton for punishment, I mean English major...yeah, English major. Yup, that's what I meant. Back to my story. My car has no radio in it. Well, it's there, but somehow managed to get stuck on scan. I cannot fix this. King Rat aka Recycled Hubby can't. It isn't worth it in this POS vehicle anyway. However, I had to drive about 2 and a half hours tonight with children in the car. Boring! So I began singing Christmas carols of all things, to myself. Then it was Thanksgiving ditties. Yes, I know two.(Thanks, Gramma!) Once home, I became obsessed with hunting down lyrics to songs I already know by heart. In fact, some of the ones I looked up were by Heart! Okay, terrible play on words. Or would that be emphasis? I no longer know. And, I just realized, I no longer care. Either way, it was awful. I have also made three ghosties to hang up for Halloween, got one child to climb onto a railing/edge of my porch thing to hang them, taped these weird looking window decorations up my mother gave us [they let light through and look very odd: 2 spooky ghost scenes, one witch (which is discriminatory on her part), and one wacked out skeleton], attempted to hand-stitch (ha) a robe/cloak for myself out of a blanket (lost cause & a destroyed blanket), eaten 3 KFC biscuits (mmmm) with gravy (also KFC) and two smidgens of pot roast. However, I did discover that my investment of $1.89 for a box of crockpot liners was more than worth it. I barely had to rinse the thing! Handy dandy kitchen cheats, gotta love 'em! My plans for the immediate future include vacuuming my lamp shades (when was the last time I did that? Uh, try never!), pulling out and organizing a crate (not box, crate) of pictures since I realized that there are still some in there of my most recent ex (not recyclable) that need to be either cleansed by fire or sent to his mother in TN, along with some pics of my two boys when they still wore diapers. Guess I'm a titty-bit behind on my scrapbooking, too, huh? Oh, and, I'm going to make a surprise visit to the King at his job about 2 a.m. since he works at Wally World (Wal-Mart for the uninitiated) and buy some material. I cannot be at Wendy's toga party, but I think I'll throw one of my own in her honor. Besides, I found some really cool penguin material, some awesome snail material (I think it was snails), and a too cute to pass up rubby-ducky-in-a-bathtub material complete with bubbles. I think it will match my shower curtain that I am using for an actual curtain in my bathroom since my shower is in the basement. See? I'm really having a manic moment. Aren't y'all glad I don't have your phone numbers? Wanna take bets on whether Wendy and Grasshopper are gonna just hate me within about two days? Have any idea how many funny looks I got when I wore my new Betty Boop flannel pj pants to school today along with my IOWA hoodie? Anyone know how much material it's gonna take to make a toga for a 5'4", unlisted weight, gourd-shaped redhead?

Sad & Oh So Wrong

Thanks, Wendy for looking into the whole crackers in bed issue! However, since you so nicely posted what you found on the last blog, I will never use that phrase again. Barbara Mandrell! Please! Ish. Nough said.

And Queenie, you're right, Cris Angel is not hot. He's twacked out of his mind and butt-ugly to boot.

Also, Wendy just made the realization the other day that she is a horrible friend. It seems that the only way she keeps up with what's going on in her friends' lives is by reading their blogs. For shame, Wendy! Just kidding. If it weren't for unlimited long distance, I'd never talk to any of my friends unless it was via email or blog sites.

Although, from what I hear, Wendy's birthday party is soon and the toga party should be very interesting. I'm sorry to have to miss it. Especially since Wendy is apparently going to wear shower curtains. I've dressed in a lot of strange outfits in my time, being a child of the 80's and all, but shower curtains? I'd better get pictures! Between her curtains and Batman's toga, and some one who will apparently look just like Shrek, the variety alone should make it worth attending. It's just very sad and wrong to wear shower curtains to a toga party, even if it your birthday!

Sad and wrong. Oh so sad and wrong. Kind of like getting questioned by the store manager for laughing too hard while perusing the greeting card section in the store. Except Grasshopper says the police report would have been much more fun to read. See? Sad and wrong. Just sad and wrong.

Eating Crackers In Bed

Today, in the car, my eldest son and I are discussing who's considered "hot" and such. Some friend of his (female) thinks that Criss Angel mindfreak is hot. I don't much think so, but I've also seen worse. Of course, I am of the opinion that Sean Connery is simply delicious, so I'm probably out of date for his age group. At any rate, he questioned the whole idea behind "so and so can eat crackers in my bed any time" statement. Not so much the obvious sexual tension behind it, but where and why this came to mean that someone is sexually attractive. Which, of course, set my semi-manic mind to working.

Why is that statement, which is not just one tossed around by me and my friends (been around for years), used for that particular purpose? As my son pointed out, the person making the remark does not really want "so and so" to eat crackers in said bed. What they really want is some sort of sexual contact and interaction. In the above reference to Sean Connery, it wouldn't happen. Not simply because it's a fantasy or I'll never have the opportunity, but because I'd never make it -- two words out of his mouth and I'd just be this moaning puddle on the floor. Sad really. But I digress (as usual). So, since this statement has been around for quite sometime (though maybe no longer in vogue), not only do I question why it's used, but when did it start? Seriously. I'm certain it's some sort of archaic (to my teens) slang terminology, but who started it, when, and why? There has to be some story behind it, and I want to know.

Great. Now I'm obsessed with it. My recycled in-laws are coming to visit tomorrow. Which normally wouldn't be a bad thing, but little do you all know! My recycled hubby's father, shortly after our first marriage, came to our first apartment to have dinner with us. At this time, I could barely boil water. So, I'm nervous. Skip ahead to the meal. As we're eating, he asks me when I'm having another one (meaning a baby, my eldest was 3 months old then). I said, in essence, 'not too fucking soon'. At which point, he turns to my hubby and says, "What's wrong with you? Don't you know you're supposed to keep them barefoot and pregnant?" And all King Rat had to say was, "I'm working, Dad, I can at least afford to buy her shoes." Oh man. Talk about a strained afternoon and evening! I still haven't forgiven him for that. So, that's part of my stress on the visit. That, plus not having seen the man in over a decade, plus the fact I'm not at all sure that Rat has informed his rather chauvinistic father that I am no longer capable of breeding. Oh yeah. This should be interesting.

I have about a thousand pages to read, two papers to write, a ton of laundry to do, three children to tranq into submission, in-laws coming for the day (to grill out no less), and now an obsession with finding out the origins of some very strangely sexually charged slang phrase that makes me dream of Sean Connery, Sawyer, Charlie, Heath Ledger, and Harrison Ford. Okay, so there's a few more, but they're the main ones. Arrrgh! Why me? Huh, why me?

All righty then! I'm off to do a brief internet search for the origins of allowing someone to eat crackers in my bed. Goddess knows, I won't be able to concentrate on my schoolwork or housework until I find out. Okay so that's just an excuse to procrastinate. I don't care. It sounds good enough to me.

Ack! Banned! For No Reason!

This was supposed to have posted on Sept. 24th, believe it or not. I just now got it recovered for posting. Sorry! Ignore it if you think it's too out of date. Just wanted to share.


I have been banned! Yes, Queenie banned me from commenting on her blogs for, like, three days! How unfair! For one, I have no idea at all how she & her hub-unit met. None. Nada. Zip. Zilcho. Nope. Not so much as an iota of a clue. And now, I'm banned!

Talk about an abuse of power! Actually, I can sort of see it. I have relatively easy access to Batman and Wendy, so I could probably find out.

Anyway, Queenie, I'm actually pleased! I've been banned from stores, restaurants, a bar or two, even a school. I have never been banned from commenting on a blog before. Yay! A first for me! So it's sick and twisted, but I have this whole rebellion thing going on right now. You know, like a second adolescence.

Yippee! Banned -- again!

Sawyer, Charlie, & Hurley

Okay, so I am the proud, drooling owner of the Lost first season on DVD. The bonus features are so-so, not quite as good as I had hoped. At any rate, one of the features is a tribute/salute thing for the show from the Museum of Television and Radio. Most of the cast was there. One lady in the audience thanked Josh (Sawyer) for the kiss with Kate. Oh yeah! I heartily agree! Mmmmm good. That man's dimple give me such a shiver. Yup. Crackers in my bed? Any time. Hell, bring the wife...I don't mind. However, there's also Charlie. Yeah yeah, so he's hooked up with the pregnant chick. Not in real life. At least, I don't think so. He's got that trashy, not-so-trustworthy kind of look, and the accent? Oh my god! Talk about melting butter! And his oh so blue eyes! Man oh man. C'mon over, Charlie...er, Dominic....bring Sawyer with you! Then there's Hurley. Hurley may not be tops in the looks department, but he is pretty cool. He's creative, he's hilarious, and has a number of the same weaknesses I do. Plus, he seems genuinely concerned for others. Aside from the fact he seems to be slowly losing his mind (I'm way ahead on that one), he's almost perfect. I won't talk about the others. Not that Sayid, Jack, Michael, Jin, and Locke don't have intriguing qualities. They do. I even find some of them mildly attractive (I won't say who), but on the whole, I'd have to say I gravitate much more towards Charlie, Sawyer, and Hurley. Oh and Boone! Too bad they killed him off. He's pretty cute too. A bit skittish in some ways and too controlling in others, but any man that gets the look on his face he did when his stepsister nibbled/sucked/whatever on his ear gets bonus points from me. Makes it easier to get in their pants.

Okay, I admit it, I'm slutty. Can't help it. Besides, aside from all these guys being fictional characters on a tv show, they're also actors...the day any of them knocks on my door will be the day the world ends. But a woman can dream can't she? And slutty, trashy, sex-crazed dreams happen to be my specialty.

Besides, if any of the above do ever show up on my doorstep, it'll make for one helluva blog!

Clowns, Buzzard Pus, and Relative Nicknames

Two cannibals are eating a clown. One stops, looks at the other, and asks, "Does this taste funny to you?"

Terrible joke, but my mother has made a running gag out of it this past week. First, she calls and tells the kids this joke. Next day, she calls and asks each of them if they've eaten any clowns and if they tasted funny. Finally, last night, I call her to check in and make sure she's made it through two days' worth of twelve hours shifts at work. She's waaaay tired, folks. I figured she would be. I was proved right when I asked her what she was munching into my ear and she told me "clown". So she was off and running again. Later in our conversation, she apparently farts (thank god this was over the phone! her gas could kill an elephant) and says, "Excuse me! Clown's giving me gas." My kids can hear me laughing and want to know who I'm talking to. So I explain it to them, along with the aside that when Gramma gets tired, she likes to share stupid jokes and in fact used to wake me up to tell me elephant jokes after working too many midnight shifts. Of course, she hears this and then wants me to relay elephant jokes to them. Fine. Flash to this morning. I'm on the phone with Grasshopper who is teaching her four month old baby to call me "Aunt Frigid" by the way, when my mom beeps in. I don't even get 'hello' or 'good morning'. I get "This clown's backing up on me." Which is a stolen and altered line from Tim Conway and Don Knotts' movie The Detectives where Conway says, "Buzzard pus's backing up on me." Good grief! I share the story with Grasshopper, who tells me to tell Mom to try acrobats next time as they have less fat and cholesterol. I swear to god, I am surrounded by insane people. Which is okay. It's nice to be among similar-thinking minds.

Counting My Blessings...One..ack!...Two...ack!

So, Tuesday, my eldest child decides to skip school for half the day. Not good, but not completely evil. (Been there, done that). He gets caught, he gets grounded, there is much discussion. Fine. Then on Wednesday, he decides to skip the whole day and to pack enough stuff to be gone for at least three days. Not so good. I knew just from how he'd acted the night before that he would...just no idea how to prove it in advance much less stop him. At any rate, on advice from my mother, I went to the local law enforcement and listed him missing as a runaway. Then began the long day of worry, driving, and being nasty to his friends who happened to not be in school. Also talking for hours on my cell phone to Grasshopper and my Mom.

He didn't get far. He did manage to stay out of sight until nearly 2:30 in the afternoon, however. He got popped because of his pants. That's right, his pants. I gave a fairly decent description of him to the nice officer, including these weird pants the boys are fascinated with. In this one's case, black with this glow-under-a-black-light green stitching in it with all these bizarrely located pockets and these straps that attach at various places along the sides or front and back...usually with the straps going between the legs...thank goddess they are long straps or he'd be a eunich. The other boy's came with handcuffs that hang from chains. Four pair to be exact. I don't understand, but my mom didn't understand my clothing choices either. But, yes, these pants happened to catch the officer's eye as he drove past him. So he hollered at him and my son actually answered him. That's all it took, he got a ride to the police station. Thank god! I have never been so scared, so worried, so angry, or so lost in my entire life. Not even when they told me that he may have leukemia when he was 5. He didn't, another blessing, but even that didn't scare me so much. At least with that, there was a chance he didn't and he was with me. I could do things to help him. When he just up and disappears? Oh god, I hope no one ever has to go through that. And I was lucky. He didn't get far and he came home. He's still here. He wouldn't let me hug him and I was too thankful to strangle him. Too many parents out there don't get that opportunity (to hug or to suppress the urge to strangle): too many kids don't come home...ever. I have been given a great gift...again. And I'm so grateful I did.