This is my first writing conference, tomorrow the Romance Writers of America will have their national conference in Orlando, FL, my backyard. And for mother's day, my amazing husband got me a ticket to go, super cool. This push is probably more so that I can write my damn book and he can stay home with the kids playing Mr Mom, which would be fine with me, as long as I have my down time to focus on the craft of writing.
So far his chores would include laundry, driving the kids to school, bringing me back starbucks and picking up my lunch, and of course homework.
I have more workshops to attend than I can count, and I am packing everything that I can in case there is a wardrobe malfunction I can have an assortment of back up clothes.
Mike D will be glowing in the dark tonight, as I pack and run around doing things that I would never do on a normal day (ex. sweeping the front porch) he has found a treasure of highlighters, and they are all yellow, and in this dim light I can't see any kind of marks on the floor, but I see him drawing. He is sliding and drawing and moving in circles on the floor, like snow angels in peed ice, minus the ice, the highlighter is slippery I can see by the way his hands glide around the floor and I imagine when I turn the lights on he will look like a light bulb. Until I finish packing, draw away Picasso.
The boys are away, my genius child Tito decided to buy his brother a $60 helicopter from a cart at the mall, like the infomercials, those kiosks will have your nails with leopard skin and then you go home, do the same thing the little chinita did and you have turned your nails into a canvas for 80's splatter art (remember the jeans and shirts someone just aimed and shot paint on them, then wiped off the brush, that) it never comes out anything like the mall people do it. So my eldest came home and flew the helicopter over cars driving by, which was fine until the body of the chopper began to spin more than the propellers. At that point he took it back, they fixed it, and conned Diego who went with the giant genius into buying another helicopter. (forehead slamming into desk, repeat) so now we have 2 helicopters, neither working, and Tito's receipt is completely blank, the heat did it's magic. So the both of them (together compiling a brain of a teenager) went back to the mall and came back with the exact same models, no cash returns. How convenient.
Needless to say, packing has been delayed on and off all day. The only thing definite is the jeans, the pants are iffy and the dress, well it's Nina's prom dress, and my husband being the voice of reason told me it's better to under dress, than wear the bridesmaids dress and have people staring at you all night. And I have no shoes to brag about that would look phenomenal with the dress, it's peach with sequins and all I have is black heels, not the "fuck me pumps" my dear and fashionable aunt Marta wears, they are "to die for" but I don't think I have a style bone in my entire body, so everything is black, if I could get away with her pumps, I would kill em at the entrance.
I wear maybe an inch, inch and a half, the three inchers are just an accident waiting to happen, if I ever wear them, follow me with a camera and you will have a you tube sensation on your hands.
Mike D pitches a fit and I take him to my mother in law, she has the fire going outside with the gas tank, cooking bones, yes bones, she says its knee bones and tail bones from an animal, I don't know that I want to delve into the details. The cauldron is outside her room and she doesn't have a sense of smell, so Juno's gift by the door is not a bother, I however gagged. Mike D turned to me, waived, and disappeared inside, he will probably be having bone stew tomorrow, according to her its very healthy and full of nutrients, I nod.
I am now packed and ready to go, blogging and listening to my neighbors screaming, they are about 80 years old and deaf so their conversation is a nosey cuban's dream at night, I just sit and intently listen trying to make out the noises and yelling, but it's always the same thing, she helps him go to the bathroom and guides him, but with two deaf people that can be all night entertainment, the only thing missing is the popcorn.
Wish me luck everyone, and if you read my blog please let me know, I am amazed that my life is interesting, to think it all started out as therapy prescribed by my psych, love you all.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Monday, July 26, 2010
Trip to Grandma's
"Mike, let's go bye-bye" it's day 3 of mike d being with us, I love waking up and sleeping with the angel, getting him to sleep is the challenge. We have learned that driving is the trick. Lately it's bayshore, we drive up one time and he is snoring.
As we prep him to get in the car he takes off to my bedroom, looking for his grandma, he doesn't want to drive tonight, missing his wela wany. I call her phone again, the sixth time, no answer.
No idea where she is, last I heard she was going to church. We get him in the car and twenty minutes later arrive with a sleeping infant.
This morning at ten-ish, my husband calls me, "Guess why my mom didn't answer the phone."
Oh god she is probably in jail, or dui, my head spinning, "Do you really want me to guess?"
"She lost her phone."
"And pray tell, where?"
"The casino."
"Ah, so she was at the House of Seminole."
"Yes, she was, need I remind you how much that phone cost."
"No, no need."
I can hear them arguing. He hangs up, this is the fourth phone she has lost, or destroyed, I have been supplying her phones and it's like giving a cell phone to a nine year old, they have no clue how to use it, they just push the numbers, make the calls, and forget to take care of the thing.
Now we need to figure out how to fix this dilemma, we will be away for almost a week and I am not comfortable leaving her with no phone, nor will I leave her with a droid, no.
I guess someone hit it big at the casino, the phone was new, maybe a month old. I could see her now, among 6 ogre like men all with sunglasses and the poker face, and my mother in law in the middle, a third their size and bluffing her ass off with the rose tinted granny-wear.
Maybe someone will turn it in, but I have more luck getting hit by a drunk little korean woman.
Far more plausible.
***dammit woman***
I wear heels to work now, I hate to wear heels, flip flops should be allowed in Florida for God's sake, it's a hundred degrees outside on any given day in the summer. My heels have made a hole in the floor of the driver's side in my little yaris, and I can now see a metal piece saying "hello" when I look down. The heels now come off when I get into my little speed wagon, I toss them on the passenger side and zoom away. I drive a stick shift, I think it is also known as a five speed, but I never understood that term.
Huge shout out to my husband for cleaning the house, he is doing everything in his power to make sure I have all the time in the world to prepare for our trip to Orlando, my very first writing convention, it's surreal to me.
I hop out of the car, heels in hand and prance to the mailbox, picking up about five collection notices and other various offers to owe more money, I do the stingray shuffle through the dirt, just for shits and giggles, then I remember the slaving done to the house, if I walk in with these feet I am sure to suffer.
The door bursts open and my mother in law is enraged, I could tell because I almost couldn't see the whites of her eyes. "Diego is not here, I looked everywhere."
"That is because he went out with Tito."
"Mira, they tell me nothing. I look in the closet, the bathroom, the cabinets, I thought he play hide and seek, I drag Miko out in backyard, the laundry room, he tell me nothing." After that she turns around and her syllables start to bunch up into a sing song of blunder, and she suddenly resembles an outcast member of the Zulu tribe. I watch her go off and forget the dirt between my toes.
I call up the boys, my eldest immediately offended, Diego is apologetic, neither realizing how upset she was at not being informed.
I hang up and stare the my mother in law and mike d arguing over the tv, wishing I could send her to her room, her flat screen, her korean channels, she sits and watches. Juno runs past me barking at the door, my mother shows up. She has decided it's time to take mike d for a ride, she sits on the sofa and gossips, in low voice, I don't want to know what the whispers are over.
I go to my bedroom to clean up splattered cereal on my bedroom furniture. She hops in bed and stares at me.
"Who sleeps here?"
Harmless question, I answer, "Lately it's me, Miguel, Diego, mike d, and Juno."
"Oh good, you are getting Miguel used to humans and animals. He keeps threatening to move and I won't see him for five years, he must be moving into a forest."
I don't know if she had that answer planned out.
"Whose effervescent is in the kitchen."
"Wany's, she let mike play with the box and I woke up to effervescent in my bed, sweet of her."
"I am taking it, and I need to get some steak knives from that place. The steakhouse. We don't have but a couple."
I wipe away and wonder how she gets away with it, each time she goes out to dinner, she takes different souveniers from different restaurants, when there is a dinner, the steak knives come out like some old handed down china. This is common knowledge in the family, there are a number of members to this underground club they have going on.
"Take the effervescent, I don't care, she doesn't know she has it. Why do you need it?"
"Cleaning stuff."
I think of her clip on tooth and not wanting to touch the wrong nerve, let it go.
She grabs mike d and looks into his ears, like chimpanzees removing fleas. "Ay yuck, are you a homeless?" she asks him.
"Yes." He says and runs around in circles.
"You could plant corn in his ears, clean his ears."
"Look woman, stop cleaning things. The doctor made it very clear not to dig in his ears, his ears are washed, DO NOT shove any qtips or bobby pins in his ears, he moves around too much."
She hisses at me like a snake. "Ok, let's go."
She stands up and mike d is yanking at her signature spandex shorts, I try to hold him to no avail, he is relentless, he grabs her purse and holds on, she walks out and he waits at the door.
I walk out and he avoids me, I watch her open the door, my mother in law close behind me. He doesn't look at either of us. She shuts the door and my 2 year old sits in the car seat ready to go.
My mom sits at the wheel and starts the car. "Wait, his seatbelt." mother in law yells.
"Oh yeah, he can't ride without being strapped in. You were supposed to do that."
Even though he is only going 3 blocks away, my mom fails to realize the need for this, I open door and strap him in. She backs off almost hitting a jogger, my jaw clenches, between the both of them, I am sure the cigarettes are the least of my worries, if anything, they keep me sane, and them alive.
From the street I see the little hand stretched out and waving and the unmistaken "Buh bye."
As we prep him to get in the car he takes off to my bedroom, looking for his grandma, he doesn't want to drive tonight, missing his wela wany. I call her phone again, the sixth time, no answer.
No idea where she is, last I heard she was going to church. We get him in the car and twenty minutes later arrive with a sleeping infant.
This morning at ten-ish, my husband calls me, "Guess why my mom didn't answer the phone."
Oh god she is probably in jail, or dui, my head spinning, "Do you really want me to guess?"
"She lost her phone."
"And pray tell, where?"
"The casino."
"Ah, so she was at the House of Seminole."
"Yes, she was, need I remind you how much that phone cost."
"No, no need."
I can hear them arguing. He hangs up, this is the fourth phone she has lost, or destroyed, I have been supplying her phones and it's like giving a cell phone to a nine year old, they have no clue how to use it, they just push the numbers, make the calls, and forget to take care of the thing.
Now we need to figure out how to fix this dilemma, we will be away for almost a week and I am not comfortable leaving her with no phone, nor will I leave her with a droid, no.
I guess someone hit it big at the casino, the phone was new, maybe a month old. I could see her now, among 6 ogre like men all with sunglasses and the poker face, and my mother in law in the middle, a third their size and bluffing her ass off with the rose tinted granny-wear.
Maybe someone will turn it in, but I have more luck getting hit by a drunk little korean woman.
Far more plausible.
***dammit woman***
I wear heels to work now, I hate to wear heels, flip flops should be allowed in Florida for God's sake, it's a hundred degrees outside on any given day in the summer. My heels have made a hole in the floor of the driver's side in my little yaris, and I can now see a metal piece saying "hello" when I look down. The heels now come off when I get into my little speed wagon, I toss them on the passenger side and zoom away. I drive a stick shift, I think it is also known as a five speed, but I never understood that term.
Huge shout out to my husband for cleaning the house, he is doing everything in his power to make sure I have all the time in the world to prepare for our trip to Orlando, my very first writing convention, it's surreal to me.
I hop out of the car, heels in hand and prance to the mailbox, picking up about five collection notices and other various offers to owe more money, I do the stingray shuffle through the dirt, just for shits and giggles, then I remember the slaving done to the house, if I walk in with these feet I am sure to suffer.
The door bursts open and my mother in law is enraged, I could tell because I almost couldn't see the whites of her eyes. "Diego is not here, I looked everywhere."
"That is because he went out with Tito."
"Mira, they tell me nothing. I look in the closet, the bathroom, the cabinets, I thought he play hide and seek, I drag Miko out in backyard, the laundry room, he tell me nothing." After that she turns around and her syllables start to bunch up into a sing song of blunder, and she suddenly resembles an outcast member of the Zulu tribe. I watch her go off and forget the dirt between my toes.
I call up the boys, my eldest immediately offended, Diego is apologetic, neither realizing how upset she was at not being informed.
I hang up and stare the my mother in law and mike d arguing over the tv, wishing I could send her to her room, her flat screen, her korean channels, she sits and watches. Juno runs past me barking at the door, my mother shows up. She has decided it's time to take mike d for a ride, she sits on the sofa and gossips, in low voice, I don't want to know what the whispers are over.
I go to my bedroom to clean up splattered cereal on my bedroom furniture. She hops in bed and stares at me.
"Who sleeps here?"
Harmless question, I answer, "Lately it's me, Miguel, Diego, mike d, and Juno."
"Oh good, you are getting Miguel used to humans and animals. He keeps threatening to move and I won't see him for five years, he must be moving into a forest."
I don't know if she had that answer planned out.
"Whose effervescent is in the kitchen."
"Wany's, she let mike play with the box and I woke up to effervescent in my bed, sweet of her."
"I am taking it, and I need to get some steak knives from that place. The steakhouse. We don't have but a couple."
I wipe away and wonder how she gets away with it, each time she goes out to dinner, she takes different souveniers from different restaurants, when there is a dinner, the steak knives come out like some old handed down china. This is common knowledge in the family, there are a number of members to this underground club they have going on.
"Take the effervescent, I don't care, she doesn't know she has it. Why do you need it?"
"Cleaning stuff."
I think of her clip on tooth and not wanting to touch the wrong nerve, let it go.
She grabs mike d and looks into his ears, like chimpanzees removing fleas. "Ay yuck, are you a homeless?" she asks him.
"Yes." He says and runs around in circles.
"You could plant corn in his ears, clean his ears."
"Look woman, stop cleaning things. The doctor made it very clear not to dig in his ears, his ears are washed, DO NOT shove any qtips or bobby pins in his ears, he moves around too much."
She hisses at me like a snake. "Ok, let's go."
She stands up and mike d is yanking at her signature spandex shorts, I try to hold him to no avail, he is relentless, he grabs her purse and holds on, she walks out and he waits at the door.
I walk out and he avoids me, I watch her open the door, my mother in law close behind me. He doesn't look at either of us. She shuts the door and my 2 year old sits in the car seat ready to go.
My mom sits at the wheel and starts the car. "Wait, his seatbelt." mother in law yells.
"Oh yeah, he can't ride without being strapped in. You were supposed to do that."
Even though he is only going 3 blocks away, my mom fails to realize the need for this, I open door and strap him in. She backs off almost hitting a jogger, my jaw clenches, between the both of them, I am sure the cigarettes are the least of my worries, if anything, they keep me sane, and them alive.
From the street I see the little hand stretched out and waving and the unmistaken "Buh bye."
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
My Little Writer(s)
I walk through the door and my mother in law is in my bed, watching the kids from there, you would think they sacrificed her to the gods, she was sweating and huffing, maybe it was menopause. I brought her a drink of water and closed the door, praying she wouldn't stay too long, me going to bed dreaming of my husband is one thing, seeing her head on my pillow, wondering if I would be dreaming of her tonight with the smell of fish and tofu lingering my pillow, was enough to get me to wash the sheets again and take caffeine to wait for my decrepit washer and dryer to be finished.
I walk into the living room and mike d is running around with an over sized pencil, one that Diego brought home from the museum long ago. A five dollar souvenir. He pokes at things and I warn him, he keeps it close to himself and saunters around in circles. I am making meatloaf and let him roam.
The screams came like a slap, I dropped the 3 lbs of ground beef into the bowl and ran with a dish towel. There laying on the floor in front of the tv was mike d howling, I carried him and looked him up and down, his head slammed back into the air. I held on hard. Like a bat out of hell my mother in law flies in and takes him from me.
"My baby, what happened."
"Nothing, it's a tantrum." I answer.
She holds him and cradles him and I go back to the meatloaf, she comes back to the kitchen and gets a knife, my eyebrows go up and I watch as she goes with knife and pencil in hand, she starts sharpening the over sized writing utensil. After a couple of seconds she returns to the living room, mike d still sobbing, the sobbing suddenly ends.
"Ya, I fixed it." I hear her cry out, the crying from my little one has ceased and once again there is a sense of peace in the house. I put the meatloaf into the oven and walk to the living room.
Picasso has decided that the wooden floor is his canvas, there is scribble and squiggly lines adorning the floor. I scream out in shock, "NO!"
Grab a bottle of Windex and paper towels, in one corner I am erasing the markings with ease and in the other corner my mother in law is drawing with mike d on the wooden floor.
"What are you doing?"
"He was mad that the pencil didn't write, so I sharpened it. No problem, looks it comes out easy."
The woman has gone mad, I am now confused as to what the consequences would be if I spanked my mother in law and put her in the corner. I continue to wipe the pencil marks and out of now where, as if the presence of a pissed off private school nun possessed fate, mike d trips and scratched himself with the pencil. He cries again, the tears continue to pick up where they left off. She pulls the pencil out of the grip and throws it in the outside trash bin, knowing that no one would jump into that stinky plastic container to recover it.
She comes back in and decides that it's best to drive him around and get him to sleep, the crying is now complete exhaustion. I have to wait for the meatloaf, my mother in law runs out back to get dressed for a drive.
Mike D climbs on the kitchen table and plays legos with my candle holders, I step forward with anticipation, knowing that if I make a sudden move the glass candle holders, all five standing on each other resembling the tower of piza, will come crashing down. I see Tito is also coming towards him slowly, we plan an attack, like a dyslexic mime I make signs for Tito to grab the candles, I will grab the kid. In a split second we both recover our target, the candles saved.
My mother in law comes in dressed up, I tell Tito to get the meatloaf out when the timer rings and run around the house looking for my flip flops, I can't find them, but the heels I wore to work are in the corner, I opt for the britney look, barefoot I carry mike d to the car with the bottle in one hand, my mother in law jumps in and we begin to drive around.
I hear the familiar sound of shaking liquid, stop the car and my little food artist is covered in head to toe with milk, milk that will curl and smell like vomit in a couple of days if I don't wash the car seat. I curse, knowing that neither my mother in law or my child know what I am saying. I pull the bottle away and grab a blanket that I keep in the car for trips to Orlando, wipe down the child, wipe down the chair, scold him as he tries to climb out and return to the front street, 20 minutes later he is asleep and we go back home.
When I get him out of the car, I lay him in my mother in laws bed, knowing that he is out till morning, I walk out and now I am covered in mushed cereal from the milk, in the dark with his white wife beater I didn't realize that I didn't get all the milk off of him. I jump in the shower with all that is soiled, my shirt and underthings, and rinse it off in the bath. And soaking wet I realize all the shampoo and bath bottles are lined up in the living room thanks to my little rain man, even as he sleeps he is a pain in the ass.
I hop out of the shower and tip toe towards the bottles, grabbing only what I need, I drop the towel on the floor and do the shuffle all the way to the bathroom, if I leave the floor wet it will lift and ruin the already ruined floors even more. I jump back in the shower and decide that I am way too tired to scrub hard and shave and wash my hair, I decide that a T & A shower is the way to go, (tits and ass) I wash what I must and put on my husbands pajamas hanging from the door, pop a xanax, grab a blanket, turn on snapped and I don't think I even made it to the entire opening, I passed out, done for the day.
I walk into the living room and mike d is running around with an over sized pencil, one that Diego brought home from the museum long ago. A five dollar souvenir. He pokes at things and I warn him, he keeps it close to himself and saunters around in circles. I am making meatloaf and let him roam.
The screams came like a slap, I dropped the 3 lbs of ground beef into the bowl and ran with a dish towel. There laying on the floor in front of the tv was mike d howling, I carried him and looked him up and down, his head slammed back into the air. I held on hard. Like a bat out of hell my mother in law flies in and takes him from me.
"My baby, what happened."
"Nothing, it's a tantrum." I answer.
She holds him and cradles him and I go back to the meatloaf, she comes back to the kitchen and gets a knife, my eyebrows go up and I watch as she goes with knife and pencil in hand, she starts sharpening the over sized writing utensil. After a couple of seconds she returns to the living room, mike d still sobbing, the sobbing suddenly ends.
"Ya, I fixed it." I hear her cry out, the crying from my little one has ceased and once again there is a sense of peace in the house. I put the meatloaf into the oven and walk to the living room.
Picasso has decided that the wooden floor is his canvas, there is scribble and squiggly lines adorning the floor. I scream out in shock, "NO!"
Grab a bottle of Windex and paper towels, in one corner I am erasing the markings with ease and in the other corner my mother in law is drawing with mike d on the wooden floor.
"What are you doing?"
"He was mad that the pencil didn't write, so I sharpened it. No problem, looks it comes out easy."
The woman has gone mad, I am now confused as to what the consequences would be if I spanked my mother in law and put her in the corner. I continue to wipe the pencil marks and out of now where, as if the presence of a pissed off private school nun possessed fate, mike d trips and scratched himself with the pencil. He cries again, the tears continue to pick up where they left off. She pulls the pencil out of the grip and throws it in the outside trash bin, knowing that no one would jump into that stinky plastic container to recover it.
She comes back in and decides that it's best to drive him around and get him to sleep, the crying is now complete exhaustion. I have to wait for the meatloaf, my mother in law runs out back to get dressed for a drive.
Mike D climbs on the kitchen table and plays legos with my candle holders, I step forward with anticipation, knowing that if I make a sudden move the glass candle holders, all five standing on each other resembling the tower of piza, will come crashing down. I see Tito is also coming towards him slowly, we plan an attack, like a dyslexic mime I make signs for Tito to grab the candles, I will grab the kid. In a split second we both recover our target, the candles saved.
My mother in law comes in dressed up, I tell Tito to get the meatloaf out when the timer rings and run around the house looking for my flip flops, I can't find them, but the heels I wore to work are in the corner, I opt for the britney look, barefoot I carry mike d to the car with the bottle in one hand, my mother in law jumps in and we begin to drive around.
I hear the familiar sound of shaking liquid, stop the car and my little food artist is covered in head to toe with milk, milk that will curl and smell like vomit in a couple of days if I don't wash the car seat. I curse, knowing that neither my mother in law or my child know what I am saying. I pull the bottle away and grab a blanket that I keep in the car for trips to Orlando, wipe down the child, wipe down the chair, scold him as he tries to climb out and return to the front street, 20 minutes later he is asleep and we go back home.
When I get him out of the car, I lay him in my mother in laws bed, knowing that he is out till morning, I walk out and now I am covered in mushed cereal from the milk, in the dark with his white wife beater I didn't realize that I didn't get all the milk off of him. I jump in the shower with all that is soiled, my shirt and underthings, and rinse it off in the bath. And soaking wet I realize all the shampoo and bath bottles are lined up in the living room thanks to my little rain man, even as he sleeps he is a pain in the ass.
I hop out of the shower and tip toe towards the bottles, grabbing only what I need, I drop the towel on the floor and do the shuffle all the way to the bathroom, if I leave the floor wet it will lift and ruin the already ruined floors even more. I jump back in the shower and decide that I am way too tired to scrub hard and shave and wash my hair, I decide that a T & A shower is the way to go, (tits and ass) I wash what I must and put on my husbands pajamas hanging from the door, pop a xanax, grab a blanket, turn on snapped and I don't think I even made it to the entire opening, I passed out, done for the day.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Falling Down
I can't really say downward spiral, but I feel like it. I look to my cell phone, I have made more calls than I have received, and have listened to more voicemails than I care to mention. I go to bed tired and wake up tired. Don't like it very much, but it is what it is. I am probably not a person you would like to be around right now, grouchy, annoyed and bitter, but who isn't.
My butt itches from the ant bites, and my right foot is sore.
It's Sunday again, yay fucking Sunday, god I hate you. I woke up to mike d pulling at my eyelids, ready to rule the living room. Made him milk, made myself coffee and read the paper, tons of Target salesfor school supplies. The boys wake up and I cook some bacon and eggs, with buttered Cuban toast. Then my hubby jumps in the shower, we chat and he gets ready to leave. Before leaving he goes outside with a wrench and 5 minutes later the car stops making the noise, I hope that it doesn't stall on him on the way to work. I kiss him goodbye and he is gone till 11pm.
Tito offers to take me to do groceries and shopping. First stop Target, we get the speakers out of his truck and put the car seat in. As I grab Mike d and my purse, I step on a cell phone cord facing up, the pain shoots through me and I fall on the floor, Mike d in one arm and my purse in the other, the sole of my foot has a small purple indent, the pain felt as though the prongs went right through the skin. I rub it and take the baby to the truck. Mike d is astonished at the way he can see everything from the back seat. He bounces with the bumps and gibbers to me about the sights, I fall in love with my little man, the three of them with me in the car makes it all better.
We put mike d in the cart and start towards the school supplies, there are items for a quarter, everything that costs a quarter I double up on and throw in the cart. Me and mike d fill the cart and suddenly Diego and Tito are missing, I walk to the edge and see them in the electronic area with nerf swords, sparring away at each other, then I shout their names and Diego turns, knocking down a display on the edge of the aisle, lunchboxes are spilled on the floor, I pretend not to know them and walk away. They catch up and Tito wants to buy a new game that is very similar to beer pong, I say no about twelve times and then we go to cups, "Look we can play beer pong with these red plastic cups and ping pong balls." from the lips of my little Diego, Tito runs at the comment, laughing to himself out loud on the other side of the aisle.
We finish and head out to the register. The young girl looks at me, "I know you, you go to Krispy Kreme, I work there too." we chat for a bit and the total comes up, $91.82, I pull out my Target card and swipe it, declined. I put $20 cash towards the purchase and swipe the rest, declined, we do this one more time, and finally I pull out the cash for groceries and pay. Oh Sunday, why do you hate me so.
Tito is slightly embarrassed but used to this, we are not surprised, the money has been more than stretched recently, these little bumps aren't expected but aren't surprising. I load up the truck with the Target bags and the kids and little mike d. Half way home, Nina calls to see if we went grocery shopping she offers to go with us and we meet at my moms. Down the street I watch mike d and his head bobbing about, he drools and then his head just dangles, I hold it up. He is asleep and the angle at which we set up the car seat has him hanging there forward, we pull up and tell Nina that we must make a delayed break, the baby is asleep and my hand is holding the poor thing up, my hand and arm growing tired by the second.
We head home and Tito takes mike d to bed, I make a bee line to the bathroom, grabbing the laptop on the way, I place the laptop on the edge of the bathtub and pull down my pants, as I sit on the toilet to empty my bladder the laptop falls on my toe, immediately blood spills from my toe, the laptop's corner hits me just right, I howl in more pain. Curse the laptop, curse the bathtub, curse the entire Target chain, and curse the financial crisis that we are all facing.
I lay in bed with mike d, shut the door and blog away, dried up tears at pain and frustration accompany me, when all is over, it's just money, but it still hurts. There is not more I can do, I can't get another job, I can't go to school, I struggle to make sure that Tito goes to school and for now that is my goal, I vow to make sure my children will never have to endure what I go through, if I could snip the penises to prolong parenthood till they are 45 and graduated I would.
But instead I just put the fear of god in them and make sure they have clean underwear, it's what I can do for now.
My butt itches from the ant bites, and my right foot is sore.
It's Sunday again, yay fucking Sunday, god I hate you. I woke up to mike d pulling at my eyelids, ready to rule the living room. Made him milk, made myself coffee and read the paper, tons of Target salesfor school supplies. The boys wake up and I cook some bacon and eggs, with buttered Cuban toast. Then my hubby jumps in the shower, we chat and he gets ready to leave. Before leaving he goes outside with a wrench and 5 minutes later the car stops making the noise, I hope that it doesn't stall on him on the way to work. I kiss him goodbye and he is gone till 11pm.
Tito offers to take me to do groceries and shopping. First stop Target, we get the speakers out of his truck and put the car seat in. As I grab Mike d and my purse, I step on a cell phone cord facing up, the pain shoots through me and I fall on the floor, Mike d in one arm and my purse in the other, the sole of my foot has a small purple indent, the pain felt as though the prongs went right through the skin. I rub it and take the baby to the truck. Mike d is astonished at the way he can see everything from the back seat. He bounces with the bumps and gibbers to me about the sights, I fall in love with my little man, the three of them with me in the car makes it all better.
We put mike d in the cart and start towards the school supplies, there are items for a quarter, everything that costs a quarter I double up on and throw in the cart. Me and mike d fill the cart and suddenly Diego and Tito are missing, I walk to the edge and see them in the electronic area with nerf swords, sparring away at each other, then I shout their names and Diego turns, knocking down a display on the edge of the aisle, lunchboxes are spilled on the floor, I pretend not to know them and walk away. They catch up and Tito wants to buy a new game that is very similar to beer pong, I say no about twelve times and then we go to cups, "Look we can play beer pong with these red plastic cups and ping pong balls." from the lips of my little Diego, Tito runs at the comment, laughing to himself out loud on the other side of the aisle.
We finish and head out to the register. The young girl looks at me, "I know you, you go to Krispy Kreme, I work there too." we chat for a bit and the total comes up, $91.82, I pull out my Target card and swipe it, declined. I put $20 cash towards the purchase and swipe the rest, declined, we do this one more time, and finally I pull out the cash for groceries and pay. Oh Sunday, why do you hate me so.
Tito is slightly embarrassed but used to this, we are not surprised, the money has been more than stretched recently, these little bumps aren't expected but aren't surprising. I load up the truck with the Target bags and the kids and little mike d. Half way home, Nina calls to see if we went grocery shopping she offers to go with us and we meet at my moms. Down the street I watch mike d and his head bobbing about, he drools and then his head just dangles, I hold it up. He is asleep and the angle at which we set up the car seat has him hanging there forward, we pull up and tell Nina that we must make a delayed break, the baby is asleep and my hand is holding the poor thing up, my hand and arm growing tired by the second.
We head home and Tito takes mike d to bed, I make a bee line to the bathroom, grabbing the laptop on the way, I place the laptop on the edge of the bathtub and pull down my pants, as I sit on the toilet to empty my bladder the laptop falls on my toe, immediately blood spills from my toe, the laptop's corner hits me just right, I howl in more pain. Curse the laptop, curse the bathtub, curse the entire Target chain, and curse the financial crisis that we are all facing.
I lay in bed with mike d, shut the door and blog away, dried up tears at pain and frustration accompany me, when all is over, it's just money, but it still hurts. There is not more I can do, I can't get another job, I can't go to school, I struggle to make sure that Tito goes to school and for now that is my goal, I vow to make sure my children will never have to endure what I go through, if I could snip the penises to prolong parenthood till they are 45 and graduated I would.
But instead I just put the fear of god in them and make sure they have clean underwear, it's what I can do for now.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Trip to Carvel
Ever since Friday, my car has been leaking, from the inside. I drove out to have a break and the area behind the glove compartment is leaking on the floor. When I make a hard turn, there is the sound of the ocean in my engine, the swish is a happy sound to me. Although the fact that the sound is coming from the engine is not good.
I head home and tell Bob the Builder, knowing that he can't do much. He goes out to the car and removes the glove compartment, I have a Yaris and this act is more like removing a lego piece, than how complex it sounds. He looks at this plastic part. "What is this?"
"White plastic." I reply.
He gets out of the car and opens the hood, goes back inside, as he found nothing, and when he did open the hood, he looked at the engine as though he was looking at an expensive Rembrant piece, staring and examining but not sure of what the hell he was looking at.
"Have you let anyone borrow the car?"
"No."
He pulls out the Toyota book and opens a door to the air condition white plastic piece, looks at the book again.
"You don't have an air filter, it's gone."
Well that doesn't sound good. He does off to the nearest car part store and puts an air filter into the car. The car is now leaking and making a horrible shaky sound. Something is definitely wrong. He installed the quick fix and somehow just made it worse.
How do you lose the air filter, I can only assume some idiot stole it, or the idiot owner somehow lost it during the oil change months ago, the noise and problems started after our cruise in April, maybe they stole it while parked during the cruise. This makes no sense really, how in gods name does an air filter dissappear. I should have known, but I only know how to drive the car, my expertise stops there, so does my husband's, by the way.
Come Saturday, the car smelled like a dirty laundry hamper, there is nothing I can do but air it out. Now we have to figure out how and when to fix the flea, calling my cousing Papo to check it out now on my to do list, since he is at the beach we decide to just wait till Monday.
The family decides to go out for ice cream. Simple. We all lug into the mother in law's car and head to Carvel, the choice is Dale Mabry or Sheldon, we decide Dale Mabry. On the way we each start to argue over what is better the milk shake or ice cream, I like malts and really don't care for ice cream, I am just in the car to spend time with everyone. None of us has any idea where the Carvel is, Tito is pulling it up on his GPS, we head north and are set to arrive in 2 miles.
Tito screams out "Next corner!" being my child after the turn the GPS is demanding we make a u turn, we took the wrong turn. A u-turn it is, we turn and continue, then we passed it, no Carvel sign in sight.
I am itching in the car, I twist and turn. On Friday after deciding to have a cigarette and sit on the sidewalk, I walked into the office and ran for the bathroom, finding two ants in my pants, yes, two and they bit my butt cheek, so as we look for the ice cream parlor I am scratching my ass and could car less about the Carvel place.
We drive slowly and find nothing.
"You do understand with my mom in the car, this place probably is closed." My little Tito, at 10 pm at night, he may just be right. My husband pulls over to do his own GPS, not trusting Tito's, even though they have the same cell phone.
I laugh, knowing he is right and the outcome is grim with me being in the car. He pulls up the address, 15009 Dale Mabry, we stroll around again, stopping at the stores with the address, "Well we are on the even side, so we are close." I say.
Then we pull up to 15009 Dale Mabry and find it vacant and empty, not even the signs for ice cream are up. The car stops and everyone is looking at me. I am on facebook, pretending nothing has happened. After a half hour drive to come up to a store that has closed seems like an impossible thing.
"Somehow, I do believe you had something to do with the closing of this establishment." My husband so eloquently puts it.
I look up and back down to my cell, really what the hell could I do, big deal it's closed. Move on.
We head out to McDonalds and have milk shakes, and McDonalds saves us.
I decided that I am not about to have any ice cream, instead I have the last of the Chivas, whiskey for me. I grab the bottle, scratch my ass and head outside for a cigarette.
I head home and tell Bob the Builder, knowing that he can't do much. He goes out to the car and removes the glove compartment, I have a Yaris and this act is more like removing a lego piece, than how complex it sounds. He looks at this plastic part. "What is this?"
"White plastic." I reply.
He gets out of the car and opens the hood, goes back inside, as he found nothing, and when he did open the hood, he looked at the engine as though he was looking at an expensive Rembrant piece, staring and examining but not sure of what the hell he was looking at.
"Have you let anyone borrow the car?"
"No."
He pulls out the Toyota book and opens a door to the air condition white plastic piece, looks at the book again.
"You don't have an air filter, it's gone."
Well that doesn't sound good. He does off to the nearest car part store and puts an air filter into the car. The car is now leaking and making a horrible shaky sound. Something is definitely wrong. He installed the quick fix and somehow just made it worse.
How do you lose the air filter, I can only assume some idiot stole it, or the idiot owner somehow lost it during the oil change months ago, the noise and problems started after our cruise in April, maybe they stole it while parked during the cruise. This makes no sense really, how in gods name does an air filter dissappear. I should have known, but I only know how to drive the car, my expertise stops there, so does my husband's, by the way.
Come Saturday, the car smelled like a dirty laundry hamper, there is nothing I can do but air it out. Now we have to figure out how and when to fix the flea, calling my cousing Papo to check it out now on my to do list, since he is at the beach we decide to just wait till Monday.
The family decides to go out for ice cream. Simple. We all lug into the mother in law's car and head to Carvel, the choice is Dale Mabry or Sheldon, we decide Dale Mabry. On the way we each start to argue over what is better the milk shake or ice cream, I like malts and really don't care for ice cream, I am just in the car to spend time with everyone. None of us has any idea where the Carvel is, Tito is pulling it up on his GPS, we head north and are set to arrive in 2 miles.
Tito screams out "Next corner!" being my child after the turn the GPS is demanding we make a u turn, we took the wrong turn. A u-turn it is, we turn and continue, then we passed it, no Carvel sign in sight.
I am itching in the car, I twist and turn. On Friday after deciding to have a cigarette and sit on the sidewalk, I walked into the office and ran for the bathroom, finding two ants in my pants, yes, two and they bit my butt cheek, so as we look for the ice cream parlor I am scratching my ass and could car less about the Carvel place.
We drive slowly and find nothing.
"You do understand with my mom in the car, this place probably is closed." My little Tito, at 10 pm at night, he may just be right. My husband pulls over to do his own GPS, not trusting Tito's, even though they have the same cell phone.
I laugh, knowing he is right and the outcome is grim with me being in the car. He pulls up the address, 15009 Dale Mabry, we stroll around again, stopping at the stores with the address, "Well we are on the even side, so we are close." I say.
Then we pull up to 15009 Dale Mabry and find it vacant and empty, not even the signs for ice cream are up. The car stops and everyone is looking at me. I am on facebook, pretending nothing has happened. After a half hour drive to come up to a store that has closed seems like an impossible thing.
"Somehow, I do believe you had something to do with the closing of this establishment." My husband so eloquently puts it.
I look up and back down to my cell, really what the hell could I do, big deal it's closed. Move on.
We head out to McDonalds and have milk shakes, and McDonalds saves us.
I decided that I am not about to have any ice cream, instead I have the last of the Chivas, whiskey for me. I grab the bottle, scratch my ass and head outside for a cigarette.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Late
I lean over to give my husband a kiss, the last thing I do before I leave the house, it's 7 AM.
"Is Diego up?'
"No."
"He just lost $5."
He tells me that last night as I slept, they bet that Diego wouldn't wake up at go to summer camp early, 7 AM early. Information I need to know.
"How is he going to wake up if we don't wake him, not his fault."
"He set the Nintendo DS, it has an alarm." Sonofabitch! That thing does that too. Where were these toys when I was growing up, all my toys plugged into the wall, and to work properly, you had to blow it. (see funny ha ha)
I go back to Tito's room, Diego fell asleep there last night, if he wakes up I take him, if he doesn't he stays. I whisper in his ear, he moves around and stirs from his deep slumber, I tussle with his hair give him a kiss, and try one last time, "Diego."
He shoots up like a Disney morning, (whenever we go to Disney the kids seem to shoot out of bed with ease and they don't argue about the early rising) he wipes sleep from his eyes and I tell him we are late. "Diego, I have been trying to wake you up since 6:30, let's go."
So, I lie, he needs to hop to it. He runs and brushes his teeth, as I make his lunch, we walk out the door at 7:10, in the car he is excited to be at camp so early, we get there and the lot is empty but with 2 cars. I rush him out with his lunchbox, we get to the door, it's locked. I knock harder and a young girl comes out, "7:30 it opens, I can't take him till then."
SHIT! I repeat, "7:30?"
"Yep you have 15 minutes."
Ok, no problem, I will just go down the street to the CVS and pick up some cigarettes and take out cash, I have no cash for lunch, perfect, still I know I am going to be late, it takes 40 minutes to get to work.
We head to CVS and I get my cigarettes, I step up the the old lady and she rings me up, the machine is stuck, the paper for receipts has decided to get stuck, she points to the other line, I stand and wait, when it's my turn, they ring me up and take my card, credit. I told her debit.
"It's the machine, it was automatic, get a candy bar, they are buy two get one free."
I look at her and run to get a Monster energy drink, they have none, I check the Starbucks coffee, almost three dollars. I decide the buy one get one candy is a better choice. I go back to the register and get the candy and hand over the card. I should have tattooed the word IDIOT on my forehead, because the fucking machine did the same damn thing again. I tell her I need the cash, not the candy and decide it's better to get a refund, she starts the transaction.
In this time I remember a CVS reciept my mom gave me with $1.50 on it. "Diego, run to the car and get mommy's purse."
The old lady hands me a paper to sign for my $1.91 refund. I sign it, she rings me up again, this time I hand over the $1.50 receipt, it's like a coupon, it deducts the amount from your balance.
"I need the card." Really! I did through my purse and hand over the card, after a second, she tells me that the card and the coupon don't match.
"Ok, then take off a candy bar."
"If I take off one, you still owe for two, you might as well get one for free."
Stupid old hack, of course I want to take it off, only one candy bar, you won't take the coupon, why do I need to buy all this candy, I just need to make one fucking purchase, why isn't she in a home with her One Life to Live and her cats. She has no business behind the register.
"Fine, take off two, I only need one to make a purchase and get some cash."
I say this as calmly as possible, and Diego tries to get a toy from the front counter, I give him the look and he places it back where it belongs.
Granny points to the machine, I enter my card and hit debit, transaction complete, I have my cash and hand over the candy bar and walk out the door.
"When I feed you Butterfinger for breakfast, it's between you and me, don't go blabbing this to your father."
"Deal." I have aced the art of bribery and winning over my children with chocolate and Club Penguin cards.
We go back to the camp and it is now 7:40 I am beyond late. I sign him in and haul it to work, Happy Hump Day to me.
"Is Diego up?'
"No."
"He just lost $5."
He tells me that last night as I slept, they bet that Diego wouldn't wake up at go to summer camp early, 7 AM early. Information I need to know.
"How is he going to wake up if we don't wake him, not his fault."
"He set the Nintendo DS, it has an alarm." Sonofabitch! That thing does that too. Where were these toys when I was growing up, all my toys plugged into the wall, and to work properly, you had to blow it. (see funny ha ha)
I go back to Tito's room, Diego fell asleep there last night, if he wakes up I take him, if he doesn't he stays. I whisper in his ear, he moves around and stirs from his deep slumber, I tussle with his hair give him a kiss, and try one last time, "Diego."
He shoots up like a Disney morning, (whenever we go to Disney the kids seem to shoot out of bed with ease and they don't argue about the early rising) he wipes sleep from his eyes and I tell him we are late. "Diego, I have been trying to wake you up since 6:30, let's go."
So, I lie, he needs to hop to it. He runs and brushes his teeth, as I make his lunch, we walk out the door at 7:10, in the car he is excited to be at camp so early, we get there and the lot is empty but with 2 cars. I rush him out with his lunchbox, we get to the door, it's locked. I knock harder and a young girl comes out, "7:30 it opens, I can't take him till then."
SHIT! I repeat, "7:30?"
"Yep you have 15 minutes."
Ok, no problem, I will just go down the street to the CVS and pick up some cigarettes and take out cash, I have no cash for lunch, perfect, still I know I am going to be late, it takes 40 minutes to get to work.
We head to CVS and I get my cigarettes, I step up the the old lady and she rings me up, the machine is stuck, the paper for receipts has decided to get stuck, she points to the other line, I stand and wait, when it's my turn, they ring me up and take my card, credit. I told her debit.
"It's the machine, it was automatic, get a candy bar, they are buy two get one free."
I look at her and run to get a Monster energy drink, they have none, I check the Starbucks coffee, almost three dollars. I decide the buy one get one candy is a better choice. I go back to the register and get the candy and hand over the card. I should have tattooed the word IDIOT on my forehead, because the fucking machine did the same damn thing again. I tell her I need the cash, not the candy and decide it's better to get a refund, she starts the transaction.
In this time I remember a CVS reciept my mom gave me with $1.50 on it. "Diego, run to the car and get mommy's purse."
The old lady hands me a paper to sign for my $1.91 refund. I sign it, she rings me up again, this time I hand over the $1.50 receipt, it's like a coupon, it deducts the amount from your balance.
"I need the card." Really! I did through my purse and hand over the card, after a second, she tells me that the card and the coupon don't match.
"Ok, then take off a candy bar."
"If I take off one, you still owe for two, you might as well get one for free."
Stupid old hack, of course I want to take it off, only one candy bar, you won't take the coupon, why do I need to buy all this candy, I just need to make one fucking purchase, why isn't she in a home with her One Life to Live and her cats. She has no business behind the register.
"Fine, take off two, I only need one to make a purchase and get some cash."
I say this as calmly as possible, and Diego tries to get a toy from the front counter, I give him the look and he places it back where it belongs.
Granny points to the machine, I enter my card and hit debit, transaction complete, I have my cash and hand over the candy bar and walk out the door.
"When I feed you Butterfinger for breakfast, it's between you and me, don't go blabbing this to your father."
"Deal." I have aced the art of bribery and winning over my children with chocolate and Club Penguin cards.
We go back to the camp and it is now 7:40 I am beyond late. I sign him in and haul it to work, Happy Hump Day to me.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
When to give up
The monster ran in circles in the backyard, I chased him for a minute and then left him to run. His cheeks pink, a dirt moustache visible and his hair dripping with sweat. My parents wanted to buy subway, so I went with Nina and left them with mike d, as we get to the counter Nina offers a coupon to the guy next to us, he was buying a foot long and a six inch, the coupon was for buy one six inch get one free. The coupon was denied because he didn't buy the two six inches, this establishment is a crock, the coupons are pointless, subway you are stupid for offering it, I should write them a letter explaining that buying a foot long is more expensive and should be accepted by the dimwits at the counter. They didn't even offer me a cookie, seeing that I paid $5 for a foot long with cheese and bacon only, not even toasted, and it used to be just bread and cheese, I have yet again been financially raped by these idiots. STUPID!!!
Actually I am probably more stupid, had I just bought the bread and fried the bacon I could make ten of these at home, but I pay $5 for the wrapping that says subway, eat fresh. (the bacon might I add never looks fresh, it looks ironed, not fresh, it doesn't even have the bacon bumps)
I get back to my mom's and ask for the baby's bottle, the bottle is the only one I have and last night I had to drive to my mom's and take it to her at 10 PM, because she couldn't find hers, only to receive a call this morning that it was under the bed, nice going mike d.
I drive home with the bottle and immediately receive 4 phone calls, when I call my mom she is screaming, "I gave you the wrong bottle, don't let your mother in law get it, the one from last night looked like she was carving a rose out of the nipple." I get in the car with her on the phone and drive back to exchange bottles. This in a matter of minutes from arriving home.
When I get there, she was all like, "I didn't want you to come back, I just didn't want her to butcher the nipple, look at this." She hands me the wrong bottle, and I look at several slices where my child drinks from, obviously from both my mother in law's scissors and mike d stuffing things into the bottle, both are wrong, and my mother being the crackhead that she is, just looks appalled that I would drive back, I know the headache that will start if I don't bring it back and my mother in law gets a hold of it, which she will do, and I will hear the kraken wail all about it, so I hand over to her the bottle, and light up a cigarette, I head back home, I left the baby with the butcher and I am sure she is waiting for me to get back.
I drive back home and before crossing the busy street, I look to the right and see an ambulance, well that is all it takes to get me over there, I drive south and a car has driven into the building, I am at the red light and hurry to start the camcorder on my cell phone, I hold it up to the top of the steering wheel and the light turns green, the moment I drive up to angle the camera to the scene of the crash, the phone rings, DAMMIT MAN, my husband is conveniently calling, I pick up. "Hello." Irritated.
"Whatcha doing?"
"I was filming a crash, but you interrupted my filming."
"Then let me let you get back to your filming."
"No, now forget it, I just passed, Oh my GOD, there is another one up the block, two, no three cars, all wrecked, what the hell is going on, there are cops everywhere."
"Maybe they were filming the first accident on their cell phone."
Silence, I don't even know how to respond to such an accusation, surely they just don't know how to drive.
"Man, the cops are everywhere, why can't I be there."
"Go to school."
Again, silence, sure let me go to school, and you can deal with homework, laundry, dirty dishes, bratty children, lunches, dog poop, kids poop, bath time, emergencies, and all the other shit on my to do list, no I really don't tell him but want to, oh and in what fucking time will I do my studying and homework, there is no 30 hour day, it's 24 hours only, and as it is I can't juggle it.
"Ok, I just wanted to call and say hi." He says.
"Hi."
"You are fine, I will let you go, see you tonight."
As I go to make a u turn, I quickly say bye and hang up, the camcorder on the cell is off, and I don't want to be accident number 3, I continue to drive past and am waved off to keep going, now driving away from my house, I go to drive by a third time but there is a patrol car blocking me, I drive home, defeated.
I walk in and it's all there, Diego reminds me that he had to use mike d's socks this morning so I go to the mountain of dirty laundry and take a load to the washing machine, DRATS, the dryer is not drying the clothes right, I reset the dryer and go back in with my dirty load, (that sounds pornographic)
I look around and wonder if I should clean or just burn the house down, when will I just get to go home, lay in bed and veg out, watch the boob tube and eat cheetos, why can't I do this, just one day.
The same thing pops into my head when I wonder this, maybe I was Lizzie Borden in my previous life, or sold my soul to the devil for the lotto, no that can't be it, I am broke and the numbers aren't popping up in dreams, no instead here i am breaking toes on hot wheels and finding science projects in the kids room, things actually growing in dishes, and fighting the everyday battle of maintaining a happy somewhat functional home. I am losing the battle more each day.
Actually I am probably more stupid, had I just bought the bread and fried the bacon I could make ten of these at home, but I pay $5 for the wrapping that says subway, eat fresh. (the bacon might I add never looks fresh, it looks ironed, not fresh, it doesn't even have the bacon bumps)
I get back to my mom's and ask for the baby's bottle, the bottle is the only one I have and last night I had to drive to my mom's and take it to her at 10 PM, because she couldn't find hers, only to receive a call this morning that it was under the bed, nice going mike d.
I drive home with the bottle and immediately receive 4 phone calls, when I call my mom she is screaming, "I gave you the wrong bottle, don't let your mother in law get it, the one from last night looked like she was carving a rose out of the nipple." I get in the car with her on the phone and drive back to exchange bottles. This in a matter of minutes from arriving home.
When I get there, she was all like, "I didn't want you to come back, I just didn't want her to butcher the nipple, look at this." She hands me the wrong bottle, and I look at several slices where my child drinks from, obviously from both my mother in law's scissors and mike d stuffing things into the bottle, both are wrong, and my mother being the crackhead that she is, just looks appalled that I would drive back, I know the headache that will start if I don't bring it back and my mother in law gets a hold of it, which she will do, and I will hear the kraken wail all about it, so I hand over to her the bottle, and light up a cigarette, I head back home, I left the baby with the butcher and I am sure she is waiting for me to get back.
I drive back home and before crossing the busy street, I look to the right and see an ambulance, well that is all it takes to get me over there, I drive south and a car has driven into the building, I am at the red light and hurry to start the camcorder on my cell phone, I hold it up to the top of the steering wheel and the light turns green, the moment I drive up to angle the camera to the scene of the crash, the phone rings, DAMMIT MAN, my husband is conveniently calling, I pick up. "Hello." Irritated.
"Whatcha doing?"
"I was filming a crash, but you interrupted my filming."
"Then let me let you get back to your filming."
"No, now forget it, I just passed, Oh my GOD, there is another one up the block, two, no three cars, all wrecked, what the hell is going on, there are cops everywhere."
"Maybe they were filming the first accident on their cell phone."
Silence, I don't even know how to respond to such an accusation, surely they just don't know how to drive.
"Man, the cops are everywhere, why can't I be there."
"Go to school."
Again, silence, sure let me go to school, and you can deal with homework, laundry, dirty dishes, bratty children, lunches, dog poop, kids poop, bath time, emergencies, and all the other shit on my to do list, no I really don't tell him but want to, oh and in what fucking time will I do my studying and homework, there is no 30 hour day, it's 24 hours only, and as it is I can't juggle it.
"Ok, I just wanted to call and say hi." He says.
"Hi."
"You are fine, I will let you go, see you tonight."
As I go to make a u turn, I quickly say bye and hang up, the camcorder on the cell is off, and I don't want to be accident number 3, I continue to drive past and am waved off to keep going, now driving away from my house, I go to drive by a third time but there is a patrol car blocking me, I drive home, defeated.
I walk in and it's all there, Diego reminds me that he had to use mike d's socks this morning so I go to the mountain of dirty laundry and take a load to the washing machine, DRATS, the dryer is not drying the clothes right, I reset the dryer and go back in with my dirty load, (that sounds pornographic)
I look around and wonder if I should clean or just burn the house down, when will I just get to go home, lay in bed and veg out, watch the boob tube and eat cheetos, why can't I do this, just one day.
The same thing pops into my head when I wonder this, maybe I was Lizzie Borden in my previous life, or sold my soul to the devil for the lotto, no that can't be it, I am broke and the numbers aren't popping up in dreams, no instead here i am breaking toes on hot wheels and finding science projects in the kids room, things actually growing in dishes, and fighting the everyday battle of maintaining a happy somewhat functional home. I am losing the battle more each day.
Monday, July 12, 2010
The Gloved One
Mike spilled his oatmeal all over the floor, it's the first thing I see when I walk into the house. It's scattered all around like fertilizer in the living room, there are spots around it where something was dragged through it. I walk into the kitchen and my mother in law is holding the duster with a pile of cereal, obviously the floor only held the remains. She puts the top half back in the box, my eyes widen in disgust, but arguing will only result in an hour long discussion of cleanliness and in the end I give up so, I let her do her thing. I buy his cereal four boxes at a time, this will go into the trash bin as soon as she leaves.
I look down to her feet and notice there is a glove pulled over her foot like a sock, I ponder how I should ask the question. I think and think, and watch her walk around like Frankenstein with the lazy leg, she sees me staring and stops. "What's that?"
"I had to put lotion on, the glove holds the lotion on foot, smart thing you had the box of gloves." She says as if this were my ingenious thought. She sits on the sofa and pulls the glove off, pulling another one out of her moo-moo pajamas. The bottom of her sole looks burned, or scraped off, she said she was trying to fix her dry cracked skin and this happened. Now I know she has friends at the flea market, and I also know their kooky items for sale, the cheapo version of the as seen on tv stuff, she brought home all kinds of stuff in the past, kitchen utensils, plastic bunnies and fish to display on her mantel, useless shit. With the invention of the ped-egg (which I handily have in the bathroom) what in little Korea did she use what to file her feet. She brings out a rock, a big oblong, gray rock, she must not have realized she passed the skin, she puts more cream on the sole of her foot, lathering it like she does with the butter and the rice, the glove is pulled back on and she walks around the house, with this plastic wrapping and 5 flappy fingers flail about with her, I stare as she goes about her business as if this were normal.
As we have this conversation, my little mike d has brought all of the shampoo bottles out of the bathroom into the bed, he is covered by the comforter and underneath has all of his collection, plus a Yo Gabba Gabba book that he won't put down.
I walk in and he is speaking Chubacca style to himself, no harm yet.
I take out the trash and marvel at the abandonment of our front yard, only a matter of time before the city comes to give us a love letter of how we need to quit squatting and pretend we actually live here, it seems that we walk in and avoid anything that has to do with the outdoors, well it's either pouring sheets of rain or a million degrees.
I put the broken car seat and the broken computer chair by the trash bin, wipe my hands on my pants and go back inside.
I have now walked into what I can only describe as a whore house, the aroma of paris twilight, I know the smell well, on my bed, jumping in circles is my little handsome boy, slathered from his feet to his head with the Paris Twilight massage oil that I had hidden in the sock drawer, the shampoo bottles all unopened lined on the floor, and the hoodlum that I gave birth to relishing in his newest adventure.
Bouncing like a porn star ready to shoot his first film. I grab him and he twists, his arms oily, the bed doused, thank god I bought the mattress pad sheet for underneath the covers, that was for Juno's accidents, both the emergency cover pad and the regular cover smelling of sex, bringing back fond memories of drunken wild nights, the smile only lasts a second and he is off on the other side of the bed, avoiding my grasp and giggling to himself, how can you hold a smile, really?
I let him jump around as the damage has been done, there is wet clothes in the dryer and the washer is full, I must have forgotten to dry the load. So we are off to play in the water with all the bottles we can find until I can put the covers to wash, otherwise I will be sleeping on the couch again.
I look down to her feet and notice there is a glove pulled over her foot like a sock, I ponder how I should ask the question. I think and think, and watch her walk around like Frankenstein with the lazy leg, she sees me staring and stops. "What's that?"
"I had to put lotion on, the glove holds the lotion on foot, smart thing you had the box of gloves." She says as if this were my ingenious thought. She sits on the sofa and pulls the glove off, pulling another one out of her moo-moo pajamas. The bottom of her sole looks burned, or scraped off, she said she was trying to fix her dry cracked skin and this happened. Now I know she has friends at the flea market, and I also know their kooky items for sale, the cheapo version of the as seen on tv stuff, she brought home all kinds of stuff in the past, kitchen utensils, plastic bunnies and fish to display on her mantel, useless shit. With the invention of the ped-egg (which I handily have in the bathroom) what in little Korea did she use what to file her feet. She brings out a rock, a big oblong, gray rock, she must not have realized she passed the skin, she puts more cream on the sole of her foot, lathering it like she does with the butter and the rice, the glove is pulled back on and she walks around the house, with this plastic wrapping and 5 flappy fingers flail about with her, I stare as she goes about her business as if this were normal.
As we have this conversation, my little mike d has brought all of the shampoo bottles out of the bathroom into the bed, he is covered by the comforter and underneath has all of his collection, plus a Yo Gabba Gabba book that he won't put down.
I walk in and he is speaking Chubacca style to himself, no harm yet.
I take out the trash and marvel at the abandonment of our front yard, only a matter of time before the city comes to give us a love letter of how we need to quit squatting and pretend we actually live here, it seems that we walk in and avoid anything that has to do with the outdoors, well it's either pouring sheets of rain or a million degrees.
I put the broken car seat and the broken computer chair by the trash bin, wipe my hands on my pants and go back inside.
I have now walked into what I can only describe as a whore house, the aroma of paris twilight, I know the smell well, on my bed, jumping in circles is my little handsome boy, slathered from his feet to his head with the Paris Twilight massage oil that I had hidden in the sock drawer, the shampoo bottles all unopened lined on the floor, and the hoodlum that I gave birth to relishing in his newest adventure.
Bouncing like a porn star ready to shoot his first film. I grab him and he twists, his arms oily, the bed doused, thank god I bought the mattress pad sheet for underneath the covers, that was for Juno's accidents, both the emergency cover pad and the regular cover smelling of sex, bringing back fond memories of drunken wild nights, the smile only lasts a second and he is off on the other side of the bed, avoiding my grasp and giggling to himself, how can you hold a smile, really?
I let him jump around as the damage has been done, there is wet clothes in the dryer and the washer is full, I must have forgotten to dry the load. So we are off to play in the water with all the bottles we can find until I can put the covers to wash, otherwise I will be sleeping on the couch again.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Trip to the Pharmacy
Outside smoking a cigarette I can see mike d playing in the dirty sandbox, my father constructed a home made sandbox with 2 x 4's and plywood, he is proud, I await the splinters and endless baths from mike d rolling in the filth. I swing from the porch and jibber jabber on the phone, he disappears and I find him hiding under the plastic that holds the riding lawn mower, I pull him out back into the sandbox. Sitting back on the porch I see him grabbing an empty flower pot and filling it with sand, then he lifts it onto his head and walks around in circles in the backyard, he is hopeless. I am into the conversation and do not see him slip into the house, the minute I notice I hang up and run inside.
"Micheal!" My mother screams, who let him into the house with that thing, the flowerpot on the floor, sand adorning the living room. I am stunned.
"I don't know, I was in the bathroom." I lie, does it matter, can't undo it.
"You know, if it's not sand it's salt. You see that white couch?" I look over and nod.
"I cleaned this whole house and sit down for a minute and there is salt all over the couch, I was sitting in salt, he emptied another canister, that is the fourth one, I don't know what I am going to do about him." The thought to put things out of his reach crosses my mind, but doesn't leave my lips, all that would do is enrage her.
"Do you have any idea what salt does, it is bad luck and if he isn't pouring it on the cat, he pours it in the couch, bad things will come to us, very bad things." As opposed to the shit I deal with now, I find it highly unlikely that some spilled salt will worsen the situation. Now if he decides to start lining it up and snorts it or starts to pile it up with stacks of monopoly money saying "The world is mine.", we may have a definite problem on our hands. (ok so I joke on the blog but telling her would just get me slapped, just had to get it out)
I walk into my sister's room avoiding the lecture of bad luck and salt and find Mara watching Bikini Shop, a 1986 T & A movie we watched as kids, my mother in order to shut us up would let us rent anything, Porky's, Private School and Bikini Shop were high on our rental list of movies to watch at age 10, just because we knew we shouldn't and she let us. The acting is awful, the plot is pointless, the memories of staying up with my sister watching r rated movies all night= priceless.
I gather the troops and go home, the house worse than I left it, the kitchen full of dirty dishes and food left out, my husband worked from 5-11pm doing ot and what did he do while I worked, nothing.
I pick up the script and try to head out to fill my meds, the monkey boy attached at the knee caps, I talk my mother in law to go with me to the pharmacy, only if I buy her the cinnamon discs she so loves, 6 bags, I no longer worry about her teeth falling out, they were all removed a month ago, and as for her blood sugar problems, I will deal with them when she passes out in the kitchen, nothing that a cold glass of water to the face won't fix.
When I get to the counter I hand my script to the little tech child at the register. He looks at it and starts to write stuff on the back, I tell him my name, he repeats it, I tell him my date of birth, he repeats it, I tell him my address, like a fucking parrot he repeats it, I shut up and wait. He looks at me and we stare at each other in dead silence. If not for the old farts lugging around in their walkers I would hear crickets chirping in the background, he must be high, or I am. "Would you like to wait?"
"No, I will be back tomorrow."
"Ok." Nothing more.
Why do they hire non people persons to work at the register, they deal with sick, handicapped and old people, they should learn some manners, they should say hi, smile, bye, human contact should be a must. Seeing that this pimple faced IT rep to be said nothing, I scowled at him and walked away, well if he doesn't say bye, neither will I, there that is my revenge, my eyebrows scrunched up with the stink eye and no smile, silence, that'll teach him. (I doubt it, but I can hope)
As I walk away, I go to pick up the cinnamon discs, picking up 6 bags, gatorade and milk is an act better left to the little foreigners at the circus that stand on each others noses and stand on their heads toe to toe like human legos, I drop the bags, bend over and pick them up, a blur of a little person runs by and the pitter patter of barefoot feet running past. I can tell the child is barefoot, he is probably in diapers and dirty clothes too, poor child. I hear shuffling and things thrown from the aisle on the other side. Do I dare look? No, it would only make me laugh at the brat and the poor stupid mother letting him run around like a savage.
I walk up to another child at the front register that resembles Ricky Martin in his pubic age years, his tag says "habla espanol", he rings up my items and I say something in English, he smiles, I say some thing in spanish, nothing. I think to myself, am I speaking fucking French? From behind me, there is running of little feet, and the plink plank of high heeled sandals quickly getting close to me, now I hear something in Korean, then "Heh!!! Hey Miko!!!"
OH MY DEAR GOD, that woman running around the pharmacy chasing down a kid gone wild is my mother in law, and I should have known the brat destroying the canned foods and book aisle was none other than my child. My mouth gapes open, I hope no bugs crawl into it. He is now crouched-down-hidden-tiger style under the area with the grocery carts for midgets, she reaches and can't grab him, she runs around the other side.
She sees my horror and explains that he escaped the car seat once again and she wanted to see what he would do in the store. "Try, yo quiro try, ver lo que hace el." She was curious as to what he would do in the store if she let him loose, of all the idiotic reasons why my child is running around barefoot in the pharmacy, that is her explanation.
I grab him and hold him, looking at the register child and grateful there is no one else at the counter. She asks me to put him down, I explain he is barefoot, she asks me to put him down, like I didn't tell her no the first time. "He gets dirty, we clean feet home." I put him down and he takes off. I momentarily lapse at the bags with my purchase, the little boy tells me the amount I pay and take off after the Tasmanian devil. Head down, ass up, I carry him out of the store, my mother in law lugs the bags stopping every ten steps to re organize how she holds the bags, she manages to make it to the car, sweating and panting like a bitch in heat (the dog). I strap the convict-to-be into his car seat and decide to drive for 30 minutes till he falls asleep.
I set him in bed, wipe down his feet, give her the candy, and sit outside to blog about yet another trip and how an ordinary trip to the pharmacy can turn into a sitcom for my blog.
"Micheal!" My mother screams, who let him into the house with that thing, the flowerpot on the floor, sand adorning the living room. I am stunned.
"I don't know, I was in the bathroom." I lie, does it matter, can't undo it.
"You know, if it's not sand it's salt. You see that white couch?" I look over and nod.
"I cleaned this whole house and sit down for a minute and there is salt all over the couch, I was sitting in salt, he emptied another canister, that is the fourth one, I don't know what I am going to do about him." The thought to put things out of his reach crosses my mind, but doesn't leave my lips, all that would do is enrage her.
"Do you have any idea what salt does, it is bad luck and if he isn't pouring it on the cat, he pours it in the couch, bad things will come to us, very bad things." As opposed to the shit I deal with now, I find it highly unlikely that some spilled salt will worsen the situation. Now if he decides to start lining it up and snorts it or starts to pile it up with stacks of monopoly money saying "The world is mine.", we may have a definite problem on our hands. (ok so I joke on the blog but telling her would just get me slapped, just had to get it out)
I walk into my sister's room avoiding the lecture of bad luck and salt and find Mara watching Bikini Shop, a 1986 T & A movie we watched as kids, my mother in order to shut us up would let us rent anything, Porky's, Private School and Bikini Shop were high on our rental list of movies to watch at age 10, just because we knew we shouldn't and she let us. The acting is awful, the plot is pointless, the memories of staying up with my sister watching r rated movies all night= priceless.
I gather the troops and go home, the house worse than I left it, the kitchen full of dirty dishes and food left out, my husband worked from 5-11pm doing ot and what did he do while I worked, nothing.
I pick up the script and try to head out to fill my meds, the monkey boy attached at the knee caps, I talk my mother in law to go with me to the pharmacy, only if I buy her the cinnamon discs she so loves, 6 bags, I no longer worry about her teeth falling out, they were all removed a month ago, and as for her blood sugar problems, I will deal with them when she passes out in the kitchen, nothing that a cold glass of water to the face won't fix.
When I get to the counter I hand my script to the little tech child at the register. He looks at it and starts to write stuff on the back, I tell him my name, he repeats it, I tell him my date of birth, he repeats it, I tell him my address, like a fucking parrot he repeats it, I shut up and wait. He looks at me and we stare at each other in dead silence. If not for the old farts lugging around in their walkers I would hear crickets chirping in the background, he must be high, or I am. "Would you like to wait?"
"No, I will be back tomorrow."
"Ok." Nothing more.
Why do they hire non people persons to work at the register, they deal with sick, handicapped and old people, they should learn some manners, they should say hi, smile, bye, human contact should be a must. Seeing that this pimple faced IT rep to be said nothing, I scowled at him and walked away, well if he doesn't say bye, neither will I, there that is my revenge, my eyebrows scrunched up with the stink eye and no smile, silence, that'll teach him. (I doubt it, but I can hope)
As I walk away, I go to pick up the cinnamon discs, picking up 6 bags, gatorade and milk is an act better left to the little foreigners at the circus that stand on each others noses and stand on their heads toe to toe like human legos, I drop the bags, bend over and pick them up, a blur of a little person runs by and the pitter patter of barefoot feet running past. I can tell the child is barefoot, he is probably in diapers and dirty clothes too, poor child. I hear shuffling and things thrown from the aisle on the other side. Do I dare look? No, it would only make me laugh at the brat and the poor stupid mother letting him run around like a savage.
I walk up to another child at the front register that resembles Ricky Martin in his pubic age years, his tag says "habla espanol", he rings up my items and I say something in English, he smiles, I say some thing in spanish, nothing. I think to myself, am I speaking fucking French? From behind me, there is running of little feet, and the plink plank of high heeled sandals quickly getting close to me, now I hear something in Korean, then "Heh!!! Hey Miko!!!"
OH MY DEAR GOD, that woman running around the pharmacy chasing down a kid gone wild is my mother in law, and I should have known the brat destroying the canned foods and book aisle was none other than my child. My mouth gapes open, I hope no bugs crawl into it. He is now crouched-down-hidden-tiger style under the area with the grocery carts for midgets, she reaches and can't grab him, she runs around the other side.
She sees my horror and explains that he escaped the car seat once again and she wanted to see what he would do in the store. "Try, yo quiro try, ver lo que hace el." She was curious as to what he would do in the store if she let him loose, of all the idiotic reasons why my child is running around barefoot in the pharmacy, that is her explanation.
I grab him and hold him, looking at the register child and grateful there is no one else at the counter. She asks me to put him down, I explain he is barefoot, she asks me to put him down, like I didn't tell her no the first time. "He gets dirty, we clean feet home." I put him down and he takes off. I momentarily lapse at the bags with my purchase, the little boy tells me the amount I pay and take off after the Tasmanian devil. Head down, ass up, I carry him out of the store, my mother in law lugs the bags stopping every ten steps to re organize how she holds the bags, she manages to make it to the car, sweating and panting like a bitch in heat (the dog). I strap the convict-to-be into his car seat and decide to drive for 30 minutes till he falls asleep.
I set him in bed, wipe down his feet, give her the candy, and sit outside to blog about yet another trip and how an ordinary trip to the pharmacy can turn into a sitcom for my blog.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Another Doctor, Another Day
Today I felt like I ran a marathon. Waking up at 6 am to make up time for a doctor's appointment, the time flew by at an astonishing pace. Before I knew it I was back at work from the doctor's visit. By midday my shirt was drenched with sweat, I was ready to jump out of my skin. I felt the need to move, to walk, to talk, my anxiety heightened with every passing second. On top of that, for the past couple of days I have had flu like symptoms.
The only thing I can compare it to is running, focusing on the track, concentrating on staying between the white lines, not looking back, just running forward and you can see the finish line, you stride to the end and just when you think you are at the done, you look around and you are now in a desert, disoriented, no path to be taken any further, no one around, you are alone in a desolate place, there are no markers to guide you out, but you want to run and don't know which way to go.
That about sums it up, I would go to the fax machine, off to the mailbox, anything to move and keep from sitting still. The doctor's visit fresh in my mind, the aches and pains were not the flu at all, but withdrawals from my medication, she agrees to try me on a different pill, tells me I need to exercise and with the time up, she has no more advice to offer.
Walking into the doctor's office was entertaining, like walking into a jacked up world of children's tales, there were characters everywhere but the lady in the waiting room, she was just out of place, she had running gear on and a big pink purse that was a flower, the zippers between the petals, it was a big purse, maybe she was a shoplifter, I snuggle my purse closer to me in a reflex kind of way, she was just really white and really pink, like the 80's just threw her up onto the couch and she just sat there reading a magazine, the person behind me looked like santa claus, but he was sent by willy wonka to the taffy pulling machine, his face stretched and his beard made it even longer, he scared me, but I felt sorry for him, the way his fingers shook, he had a hard time finding his insurance cards and he had cut off jean shorts with blue socks and black dress shoes, he wore a trucker hat and porn star glasses (the ones with the orange yellow tint, they may have been a seen on tv special at one point) what I thought to be a Pabst Blue Ribbon beer can was actually a diet one calorie soda, and I assume people usually pulled away from him, so I looked up and gave him a smile. Welcoming him into sharing with me and the other patients on his horses and cows and how they are sad and lazy, I don't see him as the farming type, but his animals don't seem to care for him, maybe he just visits a petting zoo and adopted one, like angelina and the kids, and people with the stars in the sky, and I think you can adopt whales too. The world is odd.
I filled out paperwork and laughed about his fat ass cows and the way he described their stubbornness. Moments later Tinkerbell walked in, obviously having had a wild affair with a plastic surgeon, those were not real, they didn't even bounce right, but they were perky and at my eye level, I couldn't look away. She bopped in and signed the book, I was called back to see the doctor.
I think I may be out of order in my story, but I am having an off day and I still feel sick to my stomach, nausea and dizziness are hanging out with me too.
I blog to get things off my chest, I look to my phone often, but rarely have a missed call, unless it's Lucy. (my mom, short for Lucifer)
And I really want to just type and spill it out, (I don't really need to know if someone is reading this) the blogging, it may have been doctor's orders but the session was cut short, I didn't have time to tell her I blogged. She being Jabba the Hut, she was really nice, but I didn't understand a word she said, in the beginning, I just spoke and answered questions I imagined she could've said. She nodded and wrote and wrote and wrote. Her face looked like it was melting off, I couldn't look away and when she stood up, it was like a building was moving, she was massive, her dress looked like it was holding up a hot air balloon and she teased her hair because it was very thin, after a session with me, she would probably have a little less than she did before she walked into her office, someone should have warned her, maybe she should sample rogaine, I don't know if that would help woman though, I think she already had a beard, no harm in trying, the side effects are already there.
Jabba helped me and gave me hope, when I walked out santa was probably out in his sleigh, screaming at the reindeer for being immobile, now that I think about it, he was at a psychiatric office with me, dear god, what if the cows aren't lazy they are just dead, oh well, maybe when the flesh falls off he will figure it out, and well tinkerbell was probably blowing the doctor for some really good sedatives. Oh Tink, there must be another way. Next appointment in 3 weeks, will keep you up to date.
****QUOTE I LIKE-If you think I am crazy now, wait till the sedatives wear off. (saw it on a bumper sticker)***
The only thing I can compare it to is running, focusing on the track, concentrating on staying between the white lines, not looking back, just running forward and you can see the finish line, you stride to the end and just when you think you are at the done, you look around and you are now in a desert, disoriented, no path to be taken any further, no one around, you are alone in a desolate place, there are no markers to guide you out, but you want to run and don't know which way to go.
That about sums it up, I would go to the fax machine, off to the mailbox, anything to move and keep from sitting still. The doctor's visit fresh in my mind, the aches and pains were not the flu at all, but withdrawals from my medication, she agrees to try me on a different pill, tells me I need to exercise and with the time up, she has no more advice to offer.
Walking into the doctor's office was entertaining, like walking into a jacked up world of children's tales, there were characters everywhere but the lady in the waiting room, she was just out of place, she had running gear on and a big pink purse that was a flower, the zippers between the petals, it was a big purse, maybe she was a shoplifter, I snuggle my purse closer to me in a reflex kind of way, she was just really white and really pink, like the 80's just threw her up onto the couch and she just sat there reading a magazine, the person behind me looked like santa claus, but he was sent by willy wonka to the taffy pulling machine, his face stretched and his beard made it even longer, he scared me, but I felt sorry for him, the way his fingers shook, he had a hard time finding his insurance cards and he had cut off jean shorts with blue socks and black dress shoes, he wore a trucker hat and porn star glasses (the ones with the orange yellow tint, they may have been a seen on tv special at one point) what I thought to be a Pabst Blue Ribbon beer can was actually a diet one calorie soda, and I assume people usually pulled away from him, so I looked up and gave him a smile. Welcoming him into sharing with me and the other patients on his horses and cows and how they are sad and lazy, I don't see him as the farming type, but his animals don't seem to care for him, maybe he just visits a petting zoo and adopted one, like angelina and the kids, and people with the stars in the sky, and I think you can adopt whales too. The world is odd.
I filled out paperwork and laughed about his fat ass cows and the way he described their stubbornness. Moments later Tinkerbell walked in, obviously having had a wild affair with a plastic surgeon, those were not real, they didn't even bounce right, but they were perky and at my eye level, I couldn't look away. She bopped in and signed the book, I was called back to see the doctor.
I think I may be out of order in my story, but I am having an off day and I still feel sick to my stomach, nausea and dizziness are hanging out with me too.
I blog to get things off my chest, I look to my phone often, but rarely have a missed call, unless it's Lucy. (my mom, short for Lucifer)
And I really want to just type and spill it out, (I don't really need to know if someone is reading this) the blogging, it may have been doctor's orders but the session was cut short, I didn't have time to tell her I blogged. She being Jabba the Hut, she was really nice, but I didn't understand a word she said, in the beginning, I just spoke and answered questions I imagined she could've said. She nodded and wrote and wrote and wrote. Her face looked like it was melting off, I couldn't look away and when she stood up, it was like a building was moving, she was massive, her dress looked like it was holding up a hot air balloon and she teased her hair because it was very thin, after a session with me, she would probably have a little less than she did before she walked into her office, someone should have warned her, maybe she should sample rogaine, I don't know if that would help woman though, I think she already had a beard, no harm in trying, the side effects are already there.
Jabba helped me and gave me hope, when I walked out santa was probably out in his sleigh, screaming at the reindeer for being immobile, now that I think about it, he was at a psychiatric office with me, dear god, what if the cows aren't lazy they are just dead, oh well, maybe when the flesh falls off he will figure it out, and well tinkerbell was probably blowing the doctor for some really good sedatives. Oh Tink, there must be another way. Next appointment in 3 weeks, will keep you up to date.
****QUOTE I LIKE-If you think I am crazy now, wait till the sedatives wear off. (saw it on a bumper sticker)***
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Mothers
All the mothers in my life are competing to see which one pushes me over the edge first, my mother and mother in law (MIL) are tied in first place. My shit list is very long with lots of names, but my mother, grandmother and mother in law are engraved at the top and sometimes I just carve into their names a little deeper.
This morning my mother called my MIL and MIL and baby were sleeping, that was her first and only call. My MIL is far too proud to call and ask for help, so my mother was home waiting for the call and my MIL was going bananas with Mike D waiting for the pick up. They have the communication skills of a mime that flunked the mime school academy. My mother called me at work to see how the baby was. Hello I am at work, she knows that my MIL does not pick up the phone, she is cellularly challenged and my mother who lives 3 minutes away can't make the drive because she is too busy cleaning the house she just cleaned yesterday, (see manic) knowing that MIL has no car and is stranded with the monster. I know my mother is calling the bluff, because she knew at midnight he was still awake and running strong. Calling at 8 AM is just stupid, he isn't going to be awake, he doesn't function like that. She made the initial call and is now done, ball in the other ding bat's court.
On the drive home, I am stuck in traffic and pass 2 accidents, the streets are slick and driving is dangerous. I go slow as I text, check facebook and call my mom, she doesn't pick up. I call my sisters, they tell me that Mike D isn't there. The last time I spoke to my mother was at lunch, they just verified for me that she has not made any contact with my MIL.
I walk through the door of the house, I still smell burn rice, (who ever said cooking is easy is wrong, I followed the directions to the teaspoon, and the shit still charcoled the pan) I also notice a sense of peace. Diego is playing with his Mc D toy and the tvs are all off, "Diego, where is Mike D?"
"Don't know, don't care." Our little Mike D has ripped the tv from the wall in Diego's room again, and Diego wants nothing more than a one way ticket for him to my mother's.
I pick up the phone and call MIL, "He is sleeping, he just fell asleep, he wake up at 9PM, then you take him to your mom's."
"He fell asleep at 6, it's 6:15?"
"Yes, I go to sleep too, I take him later."
Will you put down the fucking pipe and realize what you are saying! This child went to sleep well past midnight, she told me she would put him right to bed, but the paper thin walls had me dreaming of Yo Gabba Gabba and the orange disco freak, with Mike D's shrieks of play time. I know she didn't put him to sleep, she turned on the lights and raved till morning.
My husband asks for one thing and one thing only, do not let him nap after 5 pm, although he is at work, I believe this law should be implemented throughout all of the world. It just isn't good to nap from 6-9 pm, all it does it turn him into a living gremlin come midnight.
I know that my mother is over the baby, he is two now, way past her threshold of baby loving. She still loves him, but she used to pick him up and spend the night if she had to just to coddle with him, he won't stand for that now, too busy getting into every nook and cranny at his eye level. And it used to be my grandmother put him to sleep all the time, never my mother, since my grandmother moved out, she won't leave the house except for cigarettes, wally world, or the casino. There you go, leaving my mother to deal with him at nap time, knowing he won't do it without her has permanently enlisted her on my shit list. She doesn't pick up the phone to call me, so she is now in third place. I call her, but always have to listen to tears and the fact that she is going to die tomorrow. (She has been dying for ten years now, the reality is she is going to outlive me.)
I nervously call my mother to tell her that Mike D is sleeping, but I fail to tell her that he just fell asleep. She tells me not to worry the moment he wakes up to take him on over, so once he comes through the door, we are off to the batmobile.
I can only hope that she has had so much coffee that when he does fall asleep at 2 am she isn't entirely exhausted. I have to wake up at 6 am, keeping him would make me a walking zombie at work. Somehow I must break this cycle that they have created to do nothing but fight over who does the grandmothering better.
My MIL believes that he should sleep when he likes, no matter the hours and lets him do literally anything he wants, my mother is almost the same, but she kind of tries, although she lets him walk around the backyard barefoot, ala britney, and leaves him on his own for her every 15 minutes smoke break. I must go to work and make ends meet, while maintaining my sanity with these two manipulating succubuses.
This morning my mother called my MIL and MIL and baby were sleeping, that was her first and only call. My MIL is far too proud to call and ask for help, so my mother was home waiting for the call and my MIL was going bananas with Mike D waiting for the pick up. They have the communication skills of a mime that flunked the mime school academy. My mother called me at work to see how the baby was. Hello I am at work, she knows that my MIL does not pick up the phone, she is cellularly challenged and my mother who lives 3 minutes away can't make the drive because she is too busy cleaning the house she just cleaned yesterday, (see manic) knowing that MIL has no car and is stranded with the monster. I know my mother is calling the bluff, because she knew at midnight he was still awake and running strong. Calling at 8 AM is just stupid, he isn't going to be awake, he doesn't function like that. She made the initial call and is now done, ball in the other ding bat's court.
On the drive home, I am stuck in traffic and pass 2 accidents, the streets are slick and driving is dangerous. I go slow as I text, check facebook and call my mom, she doesn't pick up. I call my sisters, they tell me that Mike D isn't there. The last time I spoke to my mother was at lunch, they just verified for me that she has not made any contact with my MIL.
I walk through the door of the house, I still smell burn rice, (who ever said cooking is easy is wrong, I followed the directions to the teaspoon, and the shit still charcoled the pan) I also notice a sense of peace. Diego is playing with his Mc D toy and the tvs are all off, "Diego, where is Mike D?"
"Don't know, don't care." Our little Mike D has ripped the tv from the wall in Diego's room again, and Diego wants nothing more than a one way ticket for him to my mother's.
I pick up the phone and call MIL, "He is sleeping, he just fell asleep, he wake up at 9PM, then you take him to your mom's."
"He fell asleep at 6, it's 6:15?"
"Yes, I go to sleep too, I take him later."
Will you put down the fucking pipe and realize what you are saying! This child went to sleep well past midnight, she told me she would put him right to bed, but the paper thin walls had me dreaming of Yo Gabba Gabba and the orange disco freak, with Mike D's shrieks of play time. I know she didn't put him to sleep, she turned on the lights and raved till morning.
My husband asks for one thing and one thing only, do not let him nap after 5 pm, although he is at work, I believe this law should be implemented throughout all of the world. It just isn't good to nap from 6-9 pm, all it does it turn him into a living gremlin come midnight.
I know that my mother is over the baby, he is two now, way past her threshold of baby loving. She still loves him, but she used to pick him up and spend the night if she had to just to coddle with him, he won't stand for that now, too busy getting into every nook and cranny at his eye level. And it used to be my grandmother put him to sleep all the time, never my mother, since my grandmother moved out, she won't leave the house except for cigarettes, wally world, or the casino. There you go, leaving my mother to deal with him at nap time, knowing he won't do it without her has permanently enlisted her on my shit list. She doesn't pick up the phone to call me, so she is now in third place. I call her, but always have to listen to tears and the fact that she is going to die tomorrow. (She has been dying for ten years now, the reality is she is going to outlive me.)
I nervously call my mother to tell her that Mike D is sleeping, but I fail to tell her that he just fell asleep. She tells me not to worry the moment he wakes up to take him on over, so once he comes through the door, we are off to the batmobile.
I can only hope that she has had so much coffee that when he does fall asleep at 2 am she isn't entirely exhausted. I have to wake up at 6 am, keeping him would make me a walking zombie at work. Somehow I must break this cycle that they have created to do nothing but fight over who does the grandmothering better.
My MIL believes that he should sleep when he likes, no matter the hours and lets him do literally anything he wants, my mother is almost the same, but she kind of tries, although she lets him walk around the backyard barefoot, ala britney, and leaves him on his own for her every 15 minutes smoke break. I must go to work and make ends meet, while maintaining my sanity with these two manipulating succubuses.
Monday, July 5, 2010
Taking a break
Last night while waiting for the fireworks my mom called "How is the baby?", I reply "Fine, he is asleep." Ten minutes later she called back, "I just want to know how the baby is?" She just called for the same thing, I am tempted to tell her I let him loose on Columbus Drive to play with speeding cars. But I know this will only cause her to lash out at me for my relentless sarcasm, so instead I say, "He is just like he was five minutes ago, he hasn't moved? Did you think he would just get up and start his tyranny?" "Look, I want to go get him, why can't you bring him to me?" "Mom, he is asleep, he is fine, I will just put him to bed when I get home, he will be fine."
When I woke up this morning it was to a little korean woman slamming the door, mike d piggy back on her, the stallion has arrived. Mike D drops to the floor and climbs into bed, I carry him off to the living room. The Nickelodeon marathon begins once again. I remember my mom's relentless calling and decide she is due her time with him, it's been a couple of days and she will call me until I drop him off. I start the coffee and strap Mike D into the car, when I get to my mom's I notice all the lights are still off, the curtains still shut. I climb out of the car and peer into the window panel on the door. Nothing, the house is dark and still, I look to the right to Mara's room and bravely walk over the dirt filled with ant hills. It's like walking on a ledge and doesn't take much time to disturb one, I scream and run back on the porch, my shoes are muddy and now so is the porch, my footsteps are a new decoration. I quickly grab the door mat and start to fan the mud away, this isn't my best idea, there is wet sand everywhere, with my bare feet I try to clean up the mess.
The door opens and my sister appears, "Are yall awake?", "Just me." Mara says, no reason to disturb the peace here, I hop back into the car and head back home.
My husband is still asleep, I walk up to his side of the bed and contemplate on what his reaction would be if I were to pop him on the head with a frying pan, not good I think, I lean over and give him a kiss and plop my fat ass back on the sofa, watching mike d spin in circles waiting for him to fall.
Minutes later my husband walks in and we both are having coffee watching mike d run around the house, it's like a roomba on crack, he speeds in and out of the bedrooms stopping for seconds to watch his tv show then back in full gear disappearing and reappearing. My husband gets ready to go to work, I follow knowing this is the only adult conversation I will have until 11 pm tonight, he grabs his clothes and tosses the hanger on the bed, I grab it with rage and tell him if he weren't in the room the socks would go back in the drawer, he scowls at me, "I was gonna put em back." I retort "Oh, of all of the days in the year today is the day." I grab the clothes, back they go to the closet, I grab the pjs "Here let me do it your way." I bundle all his clothes into a ball and stuff them in the drawer, walking out I butt him on the side and knock him into the bed. Walking away without turning around.
The tv is still on cartoons, he asks me to change it, I look around the living room, the remote is no where to be found, "Hold on, let me just pull it out of my ass." I continue to read the newspaper and cover my laughter. "So is that where everything ends up." If he can't find it, how does he think I will, for some reason I have a power to locate items that are missing. I must have the seventh sense or something and I don't know how to use it. I must have my wires crossed, wonder why?
My mother calls to see how the baby is, "Mom, he is fine, I am cleaning and he is somewhere around here."
"Yeah, I am cleaning too and maybe you can bring him later." It's Sunday, she knows that I have no car, she also knows that dropping him off is difficult, when she comes by the house to visit he clings to her like a wet cat. I live 3 minutes away, but this is always a challenge. "Mom, I am cleaning too with mike d."
"Well at least you have your mother in law there to help you." I shake the phone, did I hear her right? Did she just tell me that my mother in law helps, should I ask her to repeat herself?
"Yes, I do have her help, I will talk to you later, bye." And that was that, did I really need to tell her how she had me rub I-smell-like-an-old-fart Ben Gay all over her during breakfast so that my hands would smell like old people, or how she fell asleep on the sofa watching korean novellas as I cleaned up the kitchen mess. No need to tell her, she would just up her position of woes-me up a notch, trying to manipulate my feelings, I know damn well she wouldn't survive five minutes in this hell hole.
For now, my cleaning has taken a back seat, I do not give a shit about the chores, this is my day off and my challenge is to spend as much time as possible doing nothing but sitting and breathing, stopping only to change the channel from Nickelodeon to Disney.
When I woke up this morning it was to a little korean woman slamming the door, mike d piggy back on her, the stallion has arrived. Mike D drops to the floor and climbs into bed, I carry him off to the living room. The Nickelodeon marathon begins once again. I remember my mom's relentless calling and decide she is due her time with him, it's been a couple of days and she will call me until I drop him off. I start the coffee and strap Mike D into the car, when I get to my mom's I notice all the lights are still off, the curtains still shut. I climb out of the car and peer into the window panel on the door. Nothing, the house is dark and still, I look to the right to Mara's room and bravely walk over the dirt filled with ant hills. It's like walking on a ledge and doesn't take much time to disturb one, I scream and run back on the porch, my shoes are muddy and now so is the porch, my footsteps are a new decoration. I quickly grab the door mat and start to fan the mud away, this isn't my best idea, there is wet sand everywhere, with my bare feet I try to clean up the mess.
The door opens and my sister appears, "Are yall awake?", "Just me." Mara says, no reason to disturb the peace here, I hop back into the car and head back home.
My husband is still asleep, I walk up to his side of the bed and contemplate on what his reaction would be if I were to pop him on the head with a frying pan, not good I think, I lean over and give him a kiss and plop my fat ass back on the sofa, watching mike d spin in circles waiting for him to fall.
Minutes later my husband walks in and we both are having coffee watching mike d run around the house, it's like a roomba on crack, he speeds in and out of the bedrooms stopping for seconds to watch his tv show then back in full gear disappearing and reappearing. My husband gets ready to go to work, I follow knowing this is the only adult conversation I will have until 11 pm tonight, he grabs his clothes and tosses the hanger on the bed, I grab it with rage and tell him if he weren't in the room the socks would go back in the drawer, he scowls at me, "I was gonna put em back." I retort "Oh, of all of the days in the year today is the day." I grab the clothes, back they go to the closet, I grab the pjs "Here let me do it your way." I bundle all his clothes into a ball and stuff them in the drawer, walking out I butt him on the side and knock him into the bed. Walking away without turning around.
The tv is still on cartoons, he asks me to change it, I look around the living room, the remote is no where to be found, "Hold on, let me just pull it out of my ass." I continue to read the newspaper and cover my laughter. "So is that where everything ends up." If he can't find it, how does he think I will, for some reason I have a power to locate items that are missing. I must have the seventh sense or something and I don't know how to use it. I must have my wires crossed, wonder why?
My mother calls to see how the baby is, "Mom, he is fine, I am cleaning and he is somewhere around here."
"Yeah, I am cleaning too and maybe you can bring him later." It's Sunday, she knows that I have no car, she also knows that dropping him off is difficult, when she comes by the house to visit he clings to her like a wet cat. I live 3 minutes away, but this is always a challenge. "Mom, I am cleaning too with mike d."
"Well at least you have your mother in law there to help you." I shake the phone, did I hear her right? Did she just tell me that my mother in law helps, should I ask her to repeat herself?
"Yes, I do have her help, I will talk to you later, bye." And that was that, did I really need to tell her how she had me rub I-smell-like-an-old-fart Ben Gay all over her during breakfast so that my hands would smell like old people, or how she fell asleep on the sofa watching korean novellas as I cleaned up the kitchen mess. No need to tell her, she would just up her position of woes-me up a notch, trying to manipulate my feelings, I know damn well she wouldn't survive five minutes in this hell hole.
For now, my cleaning has taken a back seat, I do not give a shit about the chores, this is my day off and my challenge is to spend as much time as possible doing nothing but sitting and breathing, stopping only to change the channel from Nickelodeon to Disney.
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Fourth of July memories
The rain has not let up today, the thunder and lightening is missing. Just lots of rain. I am spending the fourth thinking and praying for the safety of our men overseas, especially Cody, my brother in law. Very proud to say that he is serving our country, Cody we miss you dearly and pray for your safe return. Hope you are doing well buddy.
Stacks of laundry fill the house this morning, Juno is digging away at the dirty clothes, sniffing through as I shoo him off the piles. This is how I am spending the 4th this year, hooray me.
I decided that the boys would enjoy some fireworks, I google the fireworks in the area, it's between channelside and legends field. Channelside at 9 am but I know that I will spend so much time getting there I may miss the festivities and the boys will be entertained by mommy screaming obscenities as she drives around in circles, I decide to go to legends field.
We leave the house and get gas, the car is on empty. The trip also includes a trip to Mc D's, we stop for a happy meal and value menu items, we park and I go to give mike d his fries, the poor thing is sleeping. He didn't nap and tested my limits today, between pulling off blinds from the windows to throwing whatever he found in the bathtub and also sitting in the bathtub playing with his toys, he has found a new play place, the problem is each time he goes in he gets himself and his toys soaked, the leaky faucet hasn't been fixed, it's been a year. Bob the builder hasn't tapped into my husband's mind, taking over to fix the little details in the bathroom, I have more faith in my cooking skills. Today I burned lunch, scrambled eggs, burned the chocolate chip cookies, and burned the toast. Tells you alot about my faith in mr fix it.
We sit in the parking lot waiting for fireworks, an hour went by. Diego is done, he wants to go home. I drive to legends field and ask a bystander for game status. I am told that the 2nd half just started, an hour left to go. I turn around and go home. Me and Diego pull the white trash lawn chairs into the drive way and sit and stare at the roman candles and other sky rockets. Each time one went off, my little diego would scream out "You've got to be kidding, CHEAP!" The fireworks were coming from the other street, he can scream all he wants for all I care. The rain starts to come down, I wonder if we are the two only fools sitting and staring at the empty sky in the drizzling rain. He wanted to badly to see fireworks and I let him down, I regret not going to channelside. We go inside to watch some nickelodeon.
In the years past, we would spend the holiday with bar b que's, and family. Usually at my house, the old one. I think we have evaded the news by the grace of God, we are the example that you need on what not to do. I wouldn't be surprised to see his name on a fireworks gone bad story. The parties were great, we would have food, beer, liquor and fireworks. The main show was my husband putting the fireworks up, many times this would go kaput. He would either light it up and it was a dud. Or he thought it was a dud and as he got closer, the damn thing would go off sending him running for the ditch. One particular year we had the whole family standing in front of the house, the roman candles were the big hit. He would set them off in empty beer bottles. In his infinite wisdom, he lit approximately ten back to back, with help from others. When he ran away, the first bottle fell, causing a domino effect, the only thing that I heard was "Oh shit run!!!" And bodies scattered everywhere, the roman candles one by one aimed to the front of the house, we were under attack, he was setting his own family under siege. Some of the rockets went under the cars, some between the house, a few right into the crowd. I ran between cars, and I don't remember if I laughed more than I should have, but I couldn't help it, and I never will let him live it down.
This is the most adventurous holiday I have ever had. With each whistle the rocket would come at us, whenever it missed us we would laugh in relief, waiting for the next one. He has burnt his scalp, his fingers, Diego once stepped on a lit ember from a sparkler causing screams that were heard through the house, the hallways and the outside. My little diego cries over most anything and a burn to the bottom of his foot was definitely a cause for mass hysteria. From then on we all wore shoes outside, I am not a big shoe fan, but when fireworks are involved I bite my tongue and leave the 7-11 feet for the day. I love britney dammit.
So we may not have seen our share of fireworks today, but we are still happy to live in a country where freedom is not a dream, and my family is healthy, safe and sound asleep. Today wasn't that bad, but we have next year. Happy fourth of July everyone.
Stacks of laundry fill the house this morning, Juno is digging away at the dirty clothes, sniffing through as I shoo him off the piles. This is how I am spending the 4th this year, hooray me.
I decided that the boys would enjoy some fireworks, I google the fireworks in the area, it's between channelside and legends field. Channelside at 9 am but I know that I will spend so much time getting there I may miss the festivities and the boys will be entertained by mommy screaming obscenities as she drives around in circles, I decide to go to legends field.
We leave the house and get gas, the car is on empty. The trip also includes a trip to Mc D's, we stop for a happy meal and value menu items, we park and I go to give mike d his fries, the poor thing is sleeping. He didn't nap and tested my limits today, between pulling off blinds from the windows to throwing whatever he found in the bathtub and also sitting in the bathtub playing with his toys, he has found a new play place, the problem is each time he goes in he gets himself and his toys soaked, the leaky faucet hasn't been fixed, it's been a year. Bob the builder hasn't tapped into my husband's mind, taking over to fix the little details in the bathroom, I have more faith in my cooking skills. Today I burned lunch, scrambled eggs, burned the chocolate chip cookies, and burned the toast. Tells you alot about my faith in mr fix it.
We sit in the parking lot waiting for fireworks, an hour went by. Diego is done, he wants to go home. I drive to legends field and ask a bystander for game status. I am told that the 2nd half just started, an hour left to go. I turn around and go home. Me and Diego pull the white trash lawn chairs into the drive way and sit and stare at the roman candles and other sky rockets. Each time one went off, my little diego would scream out "You've got to be kidding, CHEAP!" The fireworks were coming from the other street, he can scream all he wants for all I care. The rain starts to come down, I wonder if we are the two only fools sitting and staring at the empty sky in the drizzling rain. He wanted to badly to see fireworks and I let him down, I regret not going to channelside. We go inside to watch some nickelodeon.
In the years past, we would spend the holiday with bar b que's, and family. Usually at my house, the old one. I think we have evaded the news by the grace of God, we are the example that you need on what not to do. I wouldn't be surprised to see his name on a fireworks gone bad story. The parties were great, we would have food, beer, liquor and fireworks. The main show was my husband putting the fireworks up, many times this would go kaput. He would either light it up and it was a dud. Or he thought it was a dud and as he got closer, the damn thing would go off sending him running for the ditch. One particular year we had the whole family standing in front of the house, the roman candles were the big hit. He would set them off in empty beer bottles. In his infinite wisdom, he lit approximately ten back to back, with help from others. When he ran away, the first bottle fell, causing a domino effect, the only thing that I heard was "Oh shit run!!!" And bodies scattered everywhere, the roman candles one by one aimed to the front of the house, we were under attack, he was setting his own family under siege. Some of the rockets went under the cars, some between the house, a few right into the crowd. I ran between cars, and I don't remember if I laughed more than I should have, but I couldn't help it, and I never will let him live it down.
This is the most adventurous holiday I have ever had. With each whistle the rocket would come at us, whenever it missed us we would laugh in relief, waiting for the next one. He has burnt his scalp, his fingers, Diego once stepped on a lit ember from a sparkler causing screams that were heard through the house, the hallways and the outside. My little diego cries over most anything and a burn to the bottom of his foot was definitely a cause for mass hysteria. From then on we all wore shoes outside, I am not a big shoe fan, but when fireworks are involved I bite my tongue and leave the 7-11 feet for the day. I love britney dammit.
So we may not have seen our share of fireworks today, but we are still happy to live in a country where freedom is not a dream, and my family is healthy, safe and sound asleep. Today wasn't that bad, but we have next year. Happy fourth of July everyone.
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Tushies
No matter what the time is, whenever I wake up, the only thing on my mind is going back to sleep. Diving my head back into the pillow, chasing the sleep that now eludes me. This could not be truer when this morning I woke up to a naked tush and penis jumping around in the bed, (no, not my husband's) there is no way of knowing how long Mike D was awake. I have yet to find the diaper, there is a slim chance he threw it away on his own, slim!
I struggled out of bed to get his diaper and bottle, sat down on the sofa to feed and cover his bottom, I noticed a bloody rag on the coffee table, my husband fast asleep on the sofa with a set of keys on his nose. Mike D has no boundaries when it's bye-bye time. The hubster's blood pressure has been up and down lately, stress from work, bills, life...all contributing factors.
He awoke an hour later, and I was wrong, he doesn't remember the nose bleed, but does remember being in bed and getting kicked in the face numerous times by our little monster. The last thing he does remember is the sun coming up on the window, his insomnia getting the best of him once again. We can never get what we want, he wants to be able to sleep, I want to be able to stay up and write. He yawns and declares the family needs an outing, where to go?
The family dresses for the mall, a Saturday outing will do us all some good. For the most part, we get excited to go out, I am hesitant at how Mike D will behave, and begin to pack the diapers, extra outfit and juice and milk. Juno decides that throwing up in front of the door is a great idea, while Mike D is in his poopie corner swinging his arms at anyone who dares stare at him. We rock, paper scissors it, I got the poopie diaper, my hubs the doggie vomit. We run around the house me with baby wipes, him with lysol wipes, the messes cleaned up. We get to the mall and find that the item on little Mike D's agenda is calling attention to all around him. He leans forward in the stroller and holds on to the wheels in motion, screaming out in agony as the rubber burns his hands. We stop in front of the Ed Hardy store and have a feeling that this will be the type of clothes he wears in his teen years, this will be just his style, (he will be just the type). We both talk about the people who wear this type of clothes, and shake our heads, that would be some kind of defeat. He is probably removing his finger prints as we discuss his turbulent years to come, there will be no way of tracing him is he has no finger prints, maybe he is a genius. As we walk, he screams and we stop to scold him, many of the mall goers stop and stare at his antics and we continue out of the mall, bumping into my mother and sisters, on their way to buy honey sticks at the mall. I didn't ask, neither should you.
Mike D twists and turns to escape the grips of the stroller, reluctantly my mother gets him out and we stand outside in the heatwave waiting for her to put him back, no she can not take him, she has no carseat, she is just torturing us, just like he does. She holds and walks with him, and we are outside the mall in the heat, waiting for the return, she plans to come home with us, then retracts, then plans to come home, then changes her mind again, we go through this for 15 minutes then jolt with the kid. Before heading home, we buy lotto tickets and pray we don't have to go to work on Monday. We drive home dreaming of what to do with the winnings.
The trio calls me to have sushi with them, (yes, I had sushi two days ago, and?) they pick me up and we head off to sushi. My mother lowers the window as we pass by two lanky teenagers mowing the lawn, she shouts out the window at them, "She farted!" they stop and stare at her, they probably couldn't make out what she said, she raised the window and went back to chewing her Juicy Fruit gum. Oh God, I hope he doesn't run over his toes with the lawnmower, I just gawk at the whole ordeal. My sisters sit and laugh, they have spent their day with Sybil so they are already used to the hollering out the window. We pass by her favorite restaurant and hear "I love you and miss you. Come back." As we drive by, then she puts the gum once again in her mouth, and all we hear is "Whatever." We make it to sushi and stuff our faces. The trip home was memorable, not able to mention any names but I once again had a bottom to my face, and this person decides that it's is ok to just poof on me, as much as I would like to rant and rave about it, apparently this person has odorless gas, so that means it's not a big deal. Hello, today I have had my fair share of ass. The fact remains that twice today I had a tush on me in an awkward position. And no, you do not have odorless farts, that is not even remotely a possiblity, what happened was that I flipped out and began doing the I-am-scared-to-smell-it butterfly swatting dance and drove all the air away, that is all. You are not the proud owner of the only ass in the world that doesn't smell. (That does not exist.)
I struggled out of bed to get his diaper and bottle, sat down on the sofa to feed and cover his bottom, I noticed a bloody rag on the coffee table, my husband fast asleep on the sofa with a set of keys on his nose. Mike D has no boundaries when it's bye-bye time. The hubster's blood pressure has been up and down lately, stress from work, bills, life...all contributing factors.
He awoke an hour later, and I was wrong, he doesn't remember the nose bleed, but does remember being in bed and getting kicked in the face numerous times by our little monster. The last thing he does remember is the sun coming up on the window, his insomnia getting the best of him once again. We can never get what we want, he wants to be able to sleep, I want to be able to stay up and write. He yawns and declares the family needs an outing, where to go?
The family dresses for the mall, a Saturday outing will do us all some good. For the most part, we get excited to go out, I am hesitant at how Mike D will behave, and begin to pack the diapers, extra outfit and juice and milk. Juno decides that throwing up in front of the door is a great idea, while Mike D is in his poopie corner swinging his arms at anyone who dares stare at him. We rock, paper scissors it, I got the poopie diaper, my hubs the doggie vomit. We run around the house me with baby wipes, him with lysol wipes, the messes cleaned up. We get to the mall and find that the item on little Mike D's agenda is calling attention to all around him. He leans forward in the stroller and holds on to the wheels in motion, screaming out in agony as the rubber burns his hands. We stop in front of the Ed Hardy store and have a feeling that this will be the type of clothes he wears in his teen years, this will be just his style, (he will be just the type). We both talk about the people who wear this type of clothes, and shake our heads, that would be some kind of defeat. He is probably removing his finger prints as we discuss his turbulent years to come, there will be no way of tracing him is he has no finger prints, maybe he is a genius. As we walk, he screams and we stop to scold him, many of the mall goers stop and stare at his antics and we continue out of the mall, bumping into my mother and sisters, on their way to buy honey sticks at the mall. I didn't ask, neither should you.
Mike D twists and turns to escape the grips of the stroller, reluctantly my mother gets him out and we stand outside in the heatwave waiting for her to put him back, no she can not take him, she has no carseat, she is just torturing us, just like he does. She holds and walks with him, and we are outside the mall in the heat, waiting for the return, she plans to come home with us, then retracts, then plans to come home, then changes her mind again, we go through this for 15 minutes then jolt with the kid. Before heading home, we buy lotto tickets and pray we don't have to go to work on Monday. We drive home dreaming of what to do with the winnings.
The trio calls me to have sushi with them, (yes, I had sushi two days ago, and?) they pick me up and we head off to sushi. My mother lowers the window as we pass by two lanky teenagers mowing the lawn, she shouts out the window at them, "She farted!" they stop and stare at her, they probably couldn't make out what she said, she raised the window and went back to chewing her Juicy Fruit gum. Oh God, I hope he doesn't run over his toes with the lawnmower, I just gawk at the whole ordeal. My sisters sit and laugh, they have spent their day with Sybil so they are already used to the hollering out the window. We pass by her favorite restaurant and hear "I love you and miss you. Come back." As we drive by, then she puts the gum once again in her mouth, and all we hear is "Whatever." We make it to sushi and stuff our faces. The trip home was memorable, not able to mention any names but I once again had a bottom to my face, and this person decides that it's is ok to just poof on me, as much as I would like to rant and rave about it, apparently this person has odorless gas, so that means it's not a big deal. Hello, today I have had my fair share of ass. The fact remains that twice today I had a tush on me in an awkward position. And no, you do not have odorless farts, that is not even remotely a possiblity, what happened was that I flipped out and began doing the I-am-scared-to-smell-it butterfly swatting dance and drove all the air away, that is all. You are not the proud owner of the only ass in the world that doesn't smell. (That does not exist.)
Friday, July 2, 2010
The Good Son
My dad comes home from work and every day the same routine
No “Son, how was your school, or your day or how’ve you been?”
He goes straight for the fridge and then he starts on his first beer
One after the other, me and mom don’t speak in fear
Then something always triggers, he becomes an awful mess
He slurs his words and loudly, bitches to us like a test
He calls my mom a whore and tells her crap, it’s all a lie
He waits for her to argue, till she leaves the room to cry
I’m then left in the kitchen, trying to finish all my chores
He calls me fat and stupid, how much should a boy endure
He’s even called me faggot to my face to stir me up
The words they may not touch me, but inside they fuck me up
Today he’s going overboard, he slapped her off the chair
She’s laying on the floor, won’t look up, she doesn’t dare
He kicks her as he screams for her to “get up off her ass”
She doesn’t move an inch, waiting for the time to pass
I look at him in horror, but I just won’t say a word
I know I should defend her, but to move would be absurd
I feel my body shaking, and my pants start to get wet
I’m pissing on myself I hope he leaves and just forgets
He laughs out loud as slowly there’s a puddle on the floor
Now I’ve just become a pussy as he puts it and much more
I think I started crying, then he said I’ve got to learn
He lifted up his fist, I knew then it was my turn
I know inside he loves me, as he hits me with all force
My skin begins to soften and the welts begin to hurt
I can’t pinpoint the moment where I pissed him off so much
I don’t know what I did that was so wrong to get a punch
My mom has been defeated, his victory was won
I’m crouched down in the corner, does he know I stole the gun
I hid it in the mattress, in the hole that’s by my feet
I know they’d never find it, no one’s ever changed my sheets
I’ve waited for this day, I knew soon it was to come
That is why I did it, why I stole my daddy’s gun
He’s lighting up a cigarrette, my mom’s still there passed out
He gets his foot to move her, I see blood spill out her mouth
He looks at me and turns, convinced for now his job is done
Hope for other options, my thoughts focus on just one
I hold the gun with anger, some confusion, mostly hate
Looking for this bastard, I’ll make sure he meets his fate
Funny thru my mind, I could only think of God
Why did I deserve this, am I worthless, just because
I try not to be mean to others, don’t’ steal, and don’t lie
Is it just for your amusement, there must be a reason why
I found him on the porch, and the moment our eyes met
He sobered up real fast, made a promise he’d forget
He said he’d never touch us, meanwhile mom’s bleeding inside
I look him in the eye, God forgive me, we all died
Pulled the trigger, then he dropped, on the floor his body lay
In silence, I just waited, want to make it go away
I’m only ten years old, here my family disconnects
I can’t change all the damage, hell I don’t have no regrets
My dad has never hugged me, I never made him proud
My mom might have loved me, but I always had my doubts
An evil lurked inside my house, what path it didn’t care
It seeped throughout the walls, as if I was barely there
I called for help and quickly with some lady on the phone
I checked the lifeless bodies and advised I was alone
The cops pulled in and found me, still in tears under the stairs
I told them how it happened, blood was matted in my hair
Their bodies lay in plastic bags, as they left the house for good
How will I survive, this life was mine, I understood
I knew of nothing else, I’ve no where else to call my home
But my family was fucked up, I guess I’m better off alone
No “Son, how was your school, or your day or how’ve you been?”
He goes straight for the fridge and then he starts on his first beer
One after the other, me and mom don’t speak in fear
Then something always triggers, he becomes an awful mess
He slurs his words and loudly, bitches to us like a test
He calls my mom a whore and tells her crap, it’s all a lie
He waits for her to argue, till she leaves the room to cry
I’m then left in the kitchen, trying to finish all my chores
He calls me fat and stupid, how much should a boy endure
He’s even called me faggot to my face to stir me up
The words they may not touch me, but inside they fuck me up
Today he’s going overboard, he slapped her off the chair
She’s laying on the floor, won’t look up, she doesn’t dare
He kicks her as he screams for her to “get up off her ass”
She doesn’t move an inch, waiting for the time to pass
I look at him in horror, but I just won’t say a word
I know I should defend her, but to move would be absurd
I feel my body shaking, and my pants start to get wet
I’m pissing on myself I hope he leaves and just forgets
He laughs out loud as slowly there’s a puddle on the floor
Now I’ve just become a pussy as he puts it and much more
I think I started crying, then he said I’ve got to learn
He lifted up his fist, I knew then it was my turn
I know inside he loves me, as he hits me with all force
My skin begins to soften and the welts begin to hurt
I can’t pinpoint the moment where I pissed him off so much
I don’t know what I did that was so wrong to get a punch
My mom has been defeated, his victory was won
I’m crouched down in the corner, does he know I stole the gun
I hid it in the mattress, in the hole that’s by my feet
I know they’d never find it, no one’s ever changed my sheets
I’ve waited for this day, I knew soon it was to come
That is why I did it, why I stole my daddy’s gun
He’s lighting up a cigarrette, my mom’s still there passed out
He gets his foot to move her, I see blood spill out her mouth
He looks at me and turns, convinced for now his job is done
Hope for other options, my thoughts focus on just one
I hold the gun with anger, some confusion, mostly hate
Looking for this bastard, I’ll make sure he meets his fate
Funny thru my mind, I could only think of God
Why did I deserve this, am I worthless, just because
I try not to be mean to others, don’t’ steal, and don’t lie
Is it just for your amusement, there must be a reason why
I found him on the porch, and the moment our eyes met
He sobered up real fast, made a promise he’d forget
He said he’d never touch us, meanwhile mom’s bleeding inside
I look him in the eye, God forgive me, we all died
Pulled the trigger, then he dropped, on the floor his body lay
In silence, I just waited, want to make it go away
I’m only ten years old, here my family disconnects
I can’t change all the damage, hell I don’t have no regrets
My dad has never hugged me, I never made him proud
My mom might have loved me, but I always had my doubts
An evil lurked inside my house, what path it didn’t care
It seeped throughout the walls, as if I was barely there
I called for help and quickly with some lady on the phone
I checked the lifeless bodies and advised I was alone
The cops pulled in and found me, still in tears under the stairs
I told them how it happened, blood was matted in my hair
Their bodies lay in plastic bags, as they left the house for good
How will I survive, this life was mine, I understood
I knew of nothing else, I’ve no where else to call my home
But my family was fucked up, I guess I’m better off alone
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Welcome Kami
Welcome to the world Kami, Jonel and Kristi had the baby today, she is absolutely adorable.
Seeing that baby has been the highlight of my day...today has been filled with Bita moments, these are moments when the situation at hand makes me want to be swallowed by the ground, the earth just opens it's mouth and swallows me whole. Embarrassing, how-can-this-be-happening moments.
This morning I had a one on one scheduled with my manager, bright and early at 9 am, I did all the things I had to, woke up early, showered, did my hair, dressed up nicely, applied make up and lipstick, wore heels, the whole nine. When I get to work and sit to talk to my bestie Rosa, I plop my plumpness on a chair and look down to a very white with blue stripes spot (size of a dime) on my oh so black Ann Taylor pants. (What is this, what is going on?) Doing a double take, I take my finger and touch my underwear, NO!!!! this just can't be. I look up to her, give her an O-M-G W-T-F-am-I-going-to-do smile, and she smiles back, pulls her cell out of her purse and proceeds to take a snap shot of my crotch. (thank you for that by the way)
I go to the sweaters that are often given to me in times of crisis. The blue just does not do well with my black and pink blouse, I look down to the neon orange polish still glowing on my toes and run to the bathroom, my hot pink nail polish hidden in my bra. I go to the bathroom stall that no one goes into (the unspoken one that everyone goes to by themselves to push in peace) and raise my toes up to the handicap handle bars, one by one going from neon orange to neon pink (perfect shade for the blouse) finish and run back to my desk, I have 15 minutes left, I run to Sharon, the queen of fashion at work and the sky shined down on me, she had a box of safety pins, I run back to the bathroom to take off the pants and start to close up the hole just under the zipper, hoping that the safety pin doesn't pop open and pinch my ta-ta. (mental note: must walk carefully, must not run barefoot in the office, must remember to remove safety pin from area that can cause severe agony)
Made it to the meeting, all went stellar, go me!!! The rest of the day went as usual.
My husband was off and home with the boys, I called him on the way home, at this point, Kristi (my cousin's wife/BFF is in labor, has been since yesterday) was still dilating, not pushing yet. I tested the waters and mentioned a quick stop at the hospital, he mentioned a quick bite at Yoko's (our favorite sushi place), I then hauled my ass home to pick him up for sushi. Text after text, I was getting the updates on the baby's arrival. No reason to rush yet. We ate dinner, drove to the hospital, and waited...and waited....then I got ballsy and asked to go back to the delivery room, they gave me the little sticker with my mugshot and I strolled to Labor Delivery Room 16, the door is further back than the rest of the rooms, it's a large door, and it's also closed. I knock, thinking maybe it could be the wrong couple. ( I don't think that seeing Kristi's woo-haa would be appropriate without her permission, but really don't they all look the same?) After a couple of seconds, a small little man with disheveled hair comes out and asks who I am, dammit wrong room! I tell him my name, behind him is a big green curtain and I hear a lot of voices from nurses, then I hear Kristi, not really a word, like a moan, and the word "later", but not sure who said it. The little man came back from behind the curtain and walked out to me, closing the door behind him. He introduced himself as the doctor and I introduced myself as the cousin, he told me that the baby is faced up and this is why she is having difficulty delivering. I stood there probably white from sheer embarrassment, these are the things that I need to avoid. Had I no doubts that this was their room, heaven only knows what would have blinded me.
I walk back into the waiting room and explain to the party of 12 Cubans and Kristi's dad how I got rejected, I guess you could say kicked out, although they didn't necessarily kick me out, I never stepped foot in.
Later at the hospital....Word came in that the baby was in distress and they decided on a C-Section, worry set in and hours passed by, finally little Kami was here and we all trooped down the hallway to the nursery to see the princess. The security guard stopped us, counted us, assigned us all tags, and then released us, although we didn't all fit in the elevator. We huddled together and attacked the nursery area, all of us rubber necking to catch a glimpse of this tiny little wonder, her wide eyes gazed at all of the weird faces peering out at her, her mouth open, she blinked, everything she did seemed to amaze us, like a little doll coming to life. Paparazzi mode kicked in and there were suddenly cameras clicking away everywhere, I said my good byes, kissed and congratulated and went on home to my prince.
Mike D was fast asleep, he found the doodle markers and decided to get tatted up by himself, such the little artist. Diego is watching the husband eat baked ziti and garlic bread, he then decides that he wants garlic bread.
History-There is a special offer on a specific bread that if you purchase 5, you send the 5 UPC cut outs with a completed form and they will send you a Toy Story lunchbox that lights up, well this is right up Diego's alley, we even bought peanut butter because he is getting bold in his 8 years.
My husband gets the garlic bread and puts it in the toaster, then goes off to rent a movie.
Here I was blogging, la la-la, la di-da, then I smelled the burning and instantly I knew that the toast was burnt, the toaster is not far and I turn the dial until I hear the ping telling me it's now off, I open the toaster and stare at the brown and black piece of bread, my sight inches up slowly and I then see the loaf of bread, sitting there on top of the toaster. Looks fine, but I know better, I touch the plastic casing and the whole thing shifts to the side. Since I am so intent on going through 5 loaves of bread quickly, I set the bread up where I never have, on top of the toaster instead of the pantry. We both missed this and now the entire plastic casing, (including the must have UPC portion) is melted into the toaster. The image should be pretty clear. I lost the bread, lost the toast, lost the UPC, so if you have alcohol handy have a shot for me.
Being raised in the Cuban family that I have been raised in, I was taught that you never throw away bread without kissing it and making the sign of the cross with it. Do not attempt to ask me why, number one, I know nothing about religion to explain this in a sensible way, and number two, I myself have many questions about my upbringing and I just follow the rules set in place with the whole superstition thing. I do know it has to do with the body of Christ and the symbolism and I really whole heartedly believe in him, so as not to offend him, I refuse to throw away the 27 pieces of burnt (with melted plastic on the bottom) slices without performing this ritual. Lord help me.
Seeing that baby has been the highlight of my day...today has been filled with Bita moments, these are moments when the situation at hand makes me want to be swallowed by the ground, the earth just opens it's mouth and swallows me whole. Embarrassing, how-can-this-be-happening moments.This morning I had a one on one scheduled with my manager, bright and early at 9 am, I did all the things I had to, woke up early, showered, did my hair, dressed up nicely, applied make up and lipstick, wore heels, the whole nine. When I get to work and sit to talk to my bestie Rosa, I plop my plumpness on a chair and look down to a very white with blue stripes spot (size of a dime) on my oh so black Ann Taylor pants. (What is this, what is going on?) Doing a double take, I take my finger and touch my underwear, NO!!!! this just can't be. I look up to her, give her an O-M-G W-T-F-am-I-going-to-do smile, and she smiles back, pulls her cell out of her purse and proceeds to take a snap shot of my crotch. (thank you for that by the way)
I go to the sweaters that are often given to me in times of crisis. The blue just does not do well with my black and pink blouse, I look down to the neon orange polish still glowing on my toes and run to the bathroom, my hot pink nail polish hidden in my bra. I go to the bathroom stall that no one goes into (the unspoken one that everyone goes to by themselves to push in peace) and raise my toes up to the handicap handle bars, one by one going from neon orange to neon pink (perfect shade for the blouse) finish and run back to my desk, I have 15 minutes left, I run to Sharon, the queen of fashion at work and the sky shined down on me, she had a box of safety pins, I run back to the bathroom to take off the pants and start to close up the hole just under the zipper, hoping that the safety pin doesn't pop open and pinch my ta-ta. (mental note: must walk carefully, must not run barefoot in the office, must remember to remove safety pin from area that can cause severe agony)
Made it to the meeting, all went stellar, go me!!! The rest of the day went as usual.
My husband was off and home with the boys, I called him on the way home, at this point, Kristi (my cousin's wife/BFF is in labor, has been since yesterday) was still dilating, not pushing yet. I tested the waters and mentioned a quick stop at the hospital, he mentioned a quick bite at Yoko's (our favorite sushi place), I then hauled my ass home to pick him up for sushi. Text after text, I was getting the updates on the baby's arrival. No reason to rush yet. We ate dinner, drove to the hospital, and waited...and waited....then I got ballsy and asked to go back to the delivery room, they gave me the little sticker with my mugshot and I strolled to Labor Delivery Room 16, the door is further back than the rest of the rooms, it's a large door, and it's also closed. I knock, thinking maybe it could be the wrong couple. ( I don't think that seeing Kristi's woo-haa would be appropriate without her permission, but really don't they all look the same?) After a couple of seconds, a small little man with disheveled hair comes out and asks who I am, dammit wrong room! I tell him my name, behind him is a big green curtain and I hear a lot of voices from nurses, then I hear Kristi, not really a word, like a moan, and the word "later", but not sure who said it. The little man came back from behind the curtain and walked out to me, closing the door behind him. He introduced himself as the doctor and I introduced myself as the cousin, he told me that the baby is faced up and this is why she is having difficulty delivering. I stood there probably white from sheer embarrassment, these are the things that I need to avoid. Had I no doubts that this was their room, heaven only knows what would have blinded me.
I walk back into the waiting room and explain to the party of 12 Cubans and Kristi's dad how I got rejected, I guess you could say kicked out, although they didn't necessarily kick me out, I never stepped foot in.
Later at the hospital....Word came in that the baby was in distress and they decided on a C-Section, worry set in and hours passed by, finally little Kami was here and we all trooped down the hallway to the nursery to see the princess. The security guard stopped us, counted us, assigned us all tags, and then released us, although we didn't all fit in the elevator. We huddled together and attacked the nursery area, all of us rubber necking to catch a glimpse of this tiny little wonder, her wide eyes gazed at all of the weird faces peering out at her, her mouth open, she blinked, everything she did seemed to amaze us, like a little doll coming to life. Paparazzi mode kicked in and there were suddenly cameras clicking away everywhere, I said my good byes, kissed and congratulated and went on home to my prince.
Mike D was fast asleep, he found the doodle markers and decided to get tatted up by himself, such the little artist. Diego is watching the husband eat baked ziti and garlic bread, he then decides that he wants garlic bread.
History-There is a special offer on a specific bread that if you purchase 5, you send the 5 UPC cut outs with a completed form and they will send you a Toy Story lunchbox that lights up, well this is right up Diego's alley, we even bought peanut butter because he is getting bold in his 8 years.
My husband gets the garlic bread and puts it in the toaster, then goes off to rent a movie.
Here I was blogging, la la-la, la di-da, then I smelled the burning and instantly I knew that the toast was burnt, the toaster is not far and I turn the dial until I hear the ping telling me it's now off, I open the toaster and stare at the brown and black piece of bread, my sight inches up slowly and I then see the loaf of bread, sitting there on top of the toaster. Looks fine, but I know better, I touch the plastic casing and the whole thing shifts to the side. Since I am so intent on going through 5 loaves of bread quickly, I set the bread up where I never have, on top of the toaster instead of the pantry. We both missed this and now the entire plastic casing, (including the must have UPC portion) is melted into the toaster. The image should be pretty clear. I lost the bread, lost the toast, lost the UPC, so if you have alcohol handy have a shot for me.
Being raised in the Cuban family that I have been raised in, I was taught that you never throw away bread without kissing it and making the sign of the cross with it. Do not attempt to ask me why, number one, I know nothing about religion to explain this in a sensible way, and number two, I myself have many questions about my upbringing and I just follow the rules set in place with the whole superstition thing. I do know it has to do with the body of Christ and the symbolism and I really whole heartedly believe in him, so as not to offend him, I refuse to throw away the 27 pieces of burnt (with melted plastic on the bottom) slices without performing this ritual. Lord help me.
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