There is a Toys for Tots marathon-toy-giveaway-thing at my job. And there are lots of people who participate to give gifts for families like mine. (sarcasm)
A friend of mine, who I will keep anonymous so that the envy won't run green, did so, she chose a little boy, like Diego. She also arrived late, like my family, and had a trunk full of gifts to donate. And I was the selected participant.
I now know what it feels like to win something. I was so excited I didn't even know how to begin to say thank-you.
I met with her, and there was a football (going to Mike), a soccer ball (going to Mike), Clue game (going to Diego to replace the one Mike destroyed and Juno ate), BMX figures (there are two, they each get one), Beyblade (Diego), toy car (Mike). And a couple more things. I feel so blessed. My trunk was full, now my back seat. The problem was where to hide all the toys. Mike is not too far from being a criminal mastermind, the child goes on you tube from my phone, this will be no challenge for my little Kaiser Strozer (Usual Suspects).
I did not have much wrap for the boys, now they have toys to open, lots of them.
*Fastforward to Sunday*
Sunday morning I woke up to a broken fridge, melted ice cream, warm milk, I had to throw out all of the food that spoiled, there was more than I thought. The condomints went to the fridge in the back shed, as did the milk, eggs, cheese, and the rest I could salvage. (My mother in laws fridge for the gross stuff)
Before moving the food, I cleaned out the stinky fridge, there was green stuff, gooey stuff, and gray matter, I windexed the entire thing and re-organized the stinky stuff, possibly worms, mini fish that should be pets and veggies that should have spoiled but had now passed the rotten stage and was in a food cycle stage of its own.
The segregated food fit just right, but nothing else fit. We can't buy another fridge, so it will be fast food until pay day. Lots of cereal days to come.
I dropped Mike off with the mother in law, went to go check on them, found them playing football with a diaper, not a poopy one, let's be grateful for the little things, a pee-peed one, wrapped into a square resembling an egg roll. She threw the ball, Mike caught the ball, I clapped and went back to my disaster.
My father and hubby were working on the fridge, knowing my husband, if he tried to fix it, he would probably end up wiring the fax to the microwave, which would make one hell a trick, fax a picture to the microwave and open the microwave up to a meal, something like they did on Weird Science with that chic with the hooker lips.
I went out for Happy Meals and got a call from my grandma, she desperately wanted me to take her to the store to buy the boys' gifts. And this is where my light bulb went off, "How about the toys I have in the trunk? I have the Simpson's Monopoly, a ball pit, and Club Penguin cards, I'll sell it to you?"
We agreed on a price, I went to her house, emptied the trunk, reloaded the trunk with the charity gifts, made the drop off, exchanged the merchandise for the cash, yes like they do in the corner, and went back into my car to McDonald's.
It's really amazing how things work out sometimes. Thank you Christmas Angel.
Monday, December 20, 2010
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Silent Night
It happened. The one nightmare all married couples who live with their in-laws have, finally happened.
During a heated moment of intimacy, the bedroom door burst open, and that's all I have to say about that.
After the door flew open, we instantly became the scene of a double homicide, both of us dropped as dead weight, like the characters of Toy Story when a human is present. Mike is gibbering and running at the side of the bed, he climbs and puts his index finger into my eye. I am awake, but have been in the dark long enough to act asleep with ease. We go into the kitchen and the bright lights cause me to squint, my hair is made up of a pony tail with fly aways dancing about, similar to a cat fight. Except in this fight, the pussy was defeated by a 2 year old.
My mother in law follows, "Milk, he need milk." She proclaims, and that was the reason for the abrupt invasion.
"He no sleep."
I look at Mike, he is spinning in the living room, running wildly in a crack head like fashion.
"We need to drive him, the only thing that will put him to sleep for sure is a ride, we will just drive until he passes out."
"No, that no good, he get used to it, then we always drive for nite nite."
We got into the car, she insisted she drive and we take her car.
She backed up, about an inch away from the hubby's car. I made the sign of the cross and looked forward. She topped speeds of 12 miles per hour, we passed a house with lights and she turned the corner. The woman parked in the front yard of a very nicely manicured house, across the street from the one with all the lights. She turned the radio on, she had a Yo Gabba Gabba CD. Mike clapped and sung along.
After the familiar "waaahhhs" and his delightful screams, she turned the ignition back on and moved forward, we were on top of a sewer and the car bounced and hit the concrete with each inch that we crawled forward.
And here I thought the worst that could happen was the cops come to knock on the window to site us for trespassing on pretty lawns and acting like mental patients, staring at lights and pointing at the sky.
I lowered my head and covered my eyes and forehead with my right hand, as if I were being watched. She continued to drive towards our house, and possibly head home. She pulled into the drive way. We circled the block one time, aside from going back to gawk at the gaudy light display, just one time, that isn't exaclty my plan.
She shut off the car and continued to play the CD, he sang and hummed and clapped.
Now the fun begins. She made me get down to see what he would do, "Try, try."
she wanted me to pretend to leave him, naturally he screamed. I walked over to get him out of the car, he didn't want to get down. She tried, nothing. We sat in the car listening to disco Lance Rock for another song, then she made me try again, this charade lasted till midnight, about 45 minutes. She shut off the radio and then the sirens really started to blare. We pulled the patient out of the car seat, he was convulsing and screaming, I waited to see if neighbors would come out. But since most of them have their hearing aides off at this time, it was just me and her outside. She placed him on the floor and he walked to her apt behind the house. "I take him, he go sleep."
I walked inside and finished what I started, 5 minutes later I walked to my mother in law's suite. He was jumping on the bed and I sat by him. In his hands he held a cassette tape player, the old ones, he pushed play and Korean instrumental music came on, she began to dance, kind of like the hippies around the trees, or the rain Indians asking the gods for rain. He followed, it was quite a sight.
I stood up to leave and he followed. I carried him into the house and he went straight to the TV, he turned it on, I turned it off, he did it manually, I held the remote. I finally dandled my keys and he went wild. He must think we are off to the mall or McDonalds. I took him into my car with no radio, just silence.
We drove in a large square around Tampa, each time we went around 5 minutes passed, after 4 tours of Tampa taking the same route and 20 minutes later, the prince sleeps.
I place him next to my husband, he looks almost angelic, but I know better. It was a quarter passed one when I went to sleep and he woke up at 8:30 am with bells and whistles. Hope your night went better than mine.
During a heated moment of intimacy, the bedroom door burst open, and that's all I have to say about that.
After the door flew open, we instantly became the scene of a double homicide, both of us dropped as dead weight, like the characters of Toy Story when a human is present. Mike is gibbering and running at the side of the bed, he climbs and puts his index finger into my eye. I am awake, but have been in the dark long enough to act asleep with ease. We go into the kitchen and the bright lights cause me to squint, my hair is made up of a pony tail with fly aways dancing about, similar to a cat fight. Except in this fight, the pussy was defeated by a 2 year old.
My mother in law follows, "Milk, he need milk." She proclaims, and that was the reason for the abrupt invasion.
"He no sleep."
I look at Mike, he is spinning in the living room, running wildly in a crack head like fashion.
"We need to drive him, the only thing that will put him to sleep for sure is a ride, we will just drive until he passes out."
"No, that no good, he get used to it, then we always drive for nite nite."
We got into the car, she insisted she drive and we take her car.
She backed up, about an inch away from the hubby's car. I made the sign of the cross and looked forward. She topped speeds of 12 miles per hour, we passed a house with lights and she turned the corner. The woman parked in the front yard of a very nicely manicured house, across the street from the one with all the lights. She turned the radio on, she had a Yo Gabba Gabba CD. Mike clapped and sung along.
After the familiar "waaahhhs" and his delightful screams, she turned the ignition back on and moved forward, we were on top of a sewer and the car bounced and hit the concrete with each inch that we crawled forward.
And here I thought the worst that could happen was the cops come to knock on the window to site us for trespassing on pretty lawns and acting like mental patients, staring at lights and pointing at the sky.
I lowered my head and covered my eyes and forehead with my right hand, as if I were being watched. She continued to drive towards our house, and possibly head home. She pulled into the drive way. We circled the block one time, aside from going back to gawk at the gaudy light display, just one time, that isn't exaclty my plan.
She shut off the car and continued to play the CD, he sang and hummed and clapped.
Now the fun begins. She made me get down to see what he would do, "Try, try."
she wanted me to pretend to leave him, naturally he screamed. I walked over to get him out of the car, he didn't want to get down. She tried, nothing. We sat in the car listening to disco Lance Rock for another song, then she made me try again, this charade lasted till midnight, about 45 minutes. She shut off the radio and then the sirens really started to blare. We pulled the patient out of the car seat, he was convulsing and screaming, I waited to see if neighbors would come out. But since most of them have their hearing aides off at this time, it was just me and her outside. She placed him on the floor and he walked to her apt behind the house. "I take him, he go sleep."
I walked inside and finished what I started, 5 minutes later I walked to my mother in law's suite. He was jumping on the bed and I sat by him. In his hands he held a cassette tape player, the old ones, he pushed play and Korean instrumental music came on, she began to dance, kind of like the hippies around the trees, or the rain Indians asking the gods for rain. He followed, it was quite a sight.
I stood up to leave and he followed. I carried him into the house and he went straight to the TV, he turned it on, I turned it off, he did it manually, I held the remote. I finally dandled my keys and he went wild. He must think we are off to the mall or McDonalds. I took him into my car with no radio, just silence.
We drove in a large square around Tampa, each time we went around 5 minutes passed, after 4 tours of Tampa taking the same route and 20 minutes later, the prince sleeps.
I place him next to my husband, he looks almost angelic, but I know better. It was a quarter passed one when I went to sleep and he woke up at 8:30 am with bells and whistles. Hope your night went better than mine.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Twinkling Lights
After being indoors all day, the kids needed some air. I needed some quiet time, and Juno needed to rest, Mike was torturing him.
I announced "Everyone get dressed, we are going bye-bye." I went to my mother in law's and invited her. After a little hesitation, she finally agreed, I really needed the help, in case Mike escaped the car seat on the highway.
The Chik Fil A had a holiday light display, just what we needed to get into the Christmas spirit. It was almost seven and I figured we would be headed back home at 8ish, the perfect time to have Mike fall asleep in the car.
I gave Mike his bottle, Diego a blanket, the kid was freezing, I played the Chipmunks Christmas CD and drove. My mother in law humming along, I find out on the ride that she has a couple of Coors Lights in her, and she starts counting down on how she only had two left, for some reason I am at fault in this. Her 12 pack was down to 2 because of my problem, she bought it weeks ago, I promised her it would not have lasted that long in my possession.
As I hear her babbling, I glance at the rear view mirror. While grandma was playing the blame game and Alvin was asking for teeth, the boys fell asleep. We were five minutes away, far too early, Mike would be up at 10 pm and ready to play till the wee hours.
We pulled into the parking lot, the boys woke up, their eyes twinkling at the lights, the display is mesmerizing. So many lights, you know Chik Fil A is super Christian because they close on Sundays. There are reindeer, angels, Christmas trees, soldiers, they went all out. We walked up to the display, there were seats lined up in rows, a holiday concert, what fun, I hoped to catch a glimpse. I have Mike D wrapped in his Spongebob blankie and he is just in awe. As we continue to walk my mother in law points out the lights "Look Mikey, Waaah!"
I can not possibly tell you how loud she was, the people eating outside on the tables stopped and looked up, I pulled my mother in law towards the bushes.
"Waaahhhhh Mikey look!" The lady in the drive thru ordering stopped and looked at us, my mother in law continued to talk and point. Has she never seen a light? A Christmas tree? People? The poor little highschooler taking orders looked at me, her braces sparkled with the display, her eyes a blank expression.
Continue to take the order bitch, Lady tell her what you want, nothing to see here! I wanted to shout and instead thought it, it's rude to stare. I continued around the fast food establishment, "Waahhh, wahhh, wahhh!" She wouldn't shut up, and she would point and run up to displays, the more she said it the more Mikey would squeal.
It wasn't an actual word, it was the word "wow" shorted by the "w", dipped in her korean accent, then the syllables extended times 5, the entire word went on for seconds, then the last syllable ended in a faint whisper, like ADD when she focused on the next display it started all over again, it startled me at first, but then I got used to it. I held her hand, told her I was cold, and kept her as close as I could.
So here I am with my barefoot child, yes barefoot. We were only going to order and go, she was so thrilled by the site she had to walk around and look. If she had a camera she would look like a tourist at Disney, with pics of trees, flowers and all kinds of stuff that were pointless to take a picture of. It's a foreign thing.
I struggled with Mike, kept Diego at my side, and held my mother in laws hand firmly, like they do the speshal kids at the McDonalds house. If anyone asks, I am taking her on a field trip.
We walked back towards the car, I steered the mini group past the customers, making a bee line for the parking lot, then fuck-me-sideways, there was an Elvis impersonator singing Elvis holiday songs, doing the nasty hip thing, because the man was clearly in his 60's with shoe polish in his hair, that hip thing is only cute if Shakira does it.
"Wahh, wahh, wahh, Elvis man!" She ran and took a seat in the front row. Dear God if she stands up and sings along, I am leaving her. Let Rudolph bring her ass home. After a song and clapping, she got up and I grabbed her by the hand, "We really gotta go home." She agreed.
She pointed at Elvis, to her we were watching the real thing, apparently Elvis resurrected from the grave for Christmas instead of Jesus, she was speechless, I figured she left her glasses, and obviously needs hearing aides. People looked at me, I tilted my head to the side and smiled. They smiled back in sympathy. SCORE!!!
The wahhs continued till we got back to the car, while in the drive thru they began again, children stared in wonder, we weren't part of the display, but were clearly blending in. I maneuvered the windows up, she lowered them, every time the car inched we played this up and down window symphany until we finally ordered, and I took the first exit on the way home, trying not to hit a snowman or an innocent bystander.
That is now, and will ALWAYS be a once a year trip. Hope you enjoyed this little slice of my life, and they wonder why I need medication.
I announced "Everyone get dressed, we are going bye-bye." I went to my mother in law's and invited her. After a little hesitation, she finally agreed, I really needed the help, in case Mike escaped the car seat on the highway.
The Chik Fil A had a holiday light display, just what we needed to get into the Christmas spirit. It was almost seven and I figured we would be headed back home at 8ish, the perfect time to have Mike fall asleep in the car.
I gave Mike his bottle, Diego a blanket, the kid was freezing, I played the Chipmunks Christmas CD and drove. My mother in law humming along, I find out on the ride that she has a couple of Coors Lights in her, and she starts counting down on how she only had two left, for some reason I am at fault in this. Her 12 pack was down to 2 because of my problem, she bought it weeks ago, I promised her it would not have lasted that long in my possession.
As I hear her babbling, I glance at the rear view mirror. While grandma was playing the blame game and Alvin was asking for teeth, the boys fell asleep. We were five minutes away, far too early, Mike would be up at 10 pm and ready to play till the wee hours.
We pulled into the parking lot, the boys woke up, their eyes twinkling at the lights, the display is mesmerizing. So many lights, you know Chik Fil A is super Christian because they close on Sundays. There are reindeer, angels, Christmas trees, soldiers, they went all out. We walked up to the display, there were seats lined up in rows, a holiday concert, what fun, I hoped to catch a glimpse. I have Mike D wrapped in his Spongebob blankie and he is just in awe. As we continue to walk my mother in law points out the lights "Look Mikey, Waaah!"
I can not possibly tell you how loud she was, the people eating outside on the tables stopped and looked up, I pulled my mother in law towards the bushes.
"Waaahhhhh Mikey look!" The lady in the drive thru ordering stopped and looked at us, my mother in law continued to talk and point. Has she never seen a light? A Christmas tree? People? The poor little highschooler taking orders looked at me, her braces sparkled with the display, her eyes a blank expression.
Continue to take the order bitch, Lady tell her what you want, nothing to see here! I wanted to shout and instead thought it, it's rude to stare. I continued around the fast food establishment, "Waahhh, wahhh, wahhh!" She wouldn't shut up, and she would point and run up to displays, the more she said it the more Mikey would squeal.
It wasn't an actual word, it was the word "wow" shorted by the "w", dipped in her korean accent, then the syllables extended times 5, the entire word went on for seconds, then the last syllable ended in a faint whisper, like ADD when she focused on the next display it started all over again, it startled me at first, but then I got used to it. I held her hand, told her I was cold, and kept her as close as I could.
So here I am with my barefoot child, yes barefoot. We were only going to order and go, she was so thrilled by the site she had to walk around and look. If she had a camera she would look like a tourist at Disney, with pics of trees, flowers and all kinds of stuff that were pointless to take a picture of. It's a foreign thing.
I struggled with Mike, kept Diego at my side, and held my mother in laws hand firmly, like they do the speshal kids at the McDonalds house. If anyone asks, I am taking her on a field trip.
We walked back towards the car, I steered the mini group past the customers, making a bee line for the parking lot, then fuck-me-sideways, there was an Elvis impersonator singing Elvis holiday songs, doing the nasty hip thing, because the man was clearly in his 60's with shoe polish in his hair, that hip thing is only cute if Shakira does it.
"Wahh, wahh, wahh, Elvis man!" She ran and took a seat in the front row. Dear God if she stands up and sings along, I am leaving her. Let Rudolph bring her ass home. After a song and clapping, she got up and I grabbed her by the hand, "We really gotta go home." She agreed.
She pointed at Elvis, to her we were watching the real thing, apparently Elvis resurrected from the grave for Christmas instead of Jesus, she was speechless, I figured she left her glasses, and obviously needs hearing aides. People looked at me, I tilted my head to the side and smiled. They smiled back in sympathy. SCORE!!!
The wahhs continued till we got back to the car, while in the drive thru they began again, children stared in wonder, we weren't part of the display, but were clearly blending in. I maneuvered the windows up, she lowered them, every time the car inched we played this up and down window symphany until we finally ordered, and I took the first exit on the way home, trying not to hit a snowman or an innocent bystander.
That is now, and will ALWAYS be a once a year trip. Hope you enjoyed this little slice of my life, and they wonder why I need medication.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Chestnuts roasting
People probably think I am mean to my mother in law because she has no oven or stove, just a microwave. She doesn't live in a closet people, she has proven herself irresponsible for such luxeries.
Two years ago, I remember it was December because I remember the tree was up.
I woke up to a foul burning smell, it took a minute to register, but once I woke up I opened the door to a house full of smoke. I ran down stairs and there on the stove was a pot of chestnuts, black as the coal that Santa was going to be leaving her ass on Christmas morning, with shiney bows and all. I came up with the gift at that very second.
I shut off the stove, grabbed a towel and placed the pot o charded nuts in the sink. I walked into her room to find my dear mother in law sprawled on her bed with the remote in one hand, on TV a China man getting slapped by a China chick probably for some kinky shit that I can't follow because I am not Korean.
I woke her, she was shocked, the clock read 2 and at just about that time, I popped on the couch and watched a movie. How could I sleep, we opened the back screen door and let the downstairs air out.
"Chestnut." She said.
"I know, but not at 2 in the morning, no more cooking like this." Either she was falling back asleep or she was eyeing me and cursing me in her mind.
No matter, this has happened more than a couple of times. And how did this story come about.
This morning I thought she was cleaning the front yard. I was wrong. She is gathering acorns from the floor and has them out in the sun, in various containers, she hasn't decided if she is going to cook them or put them in a pillow case and use it as a foot massage. Apparently the recession has even the holiday squirrels losing out.
I don't know how she intends to cook up the nuts or acorns, but I hope for all that is holy, that she doesn't use sticks and twigs from the front yard and attempt to bar b que my house in the process.
Later that same day...my mother calls. She has gone shopping and found the perfect gift for my husband. A t-shirt with a squirrel holding an acorn, the shirt read "Can I bust a nut in your hole?" She left the t-shirt at the store and does nothing more than ask if she should go back. I can only pray they sell out or she finds another way to embarrass me.
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Michael...a boy and his pot
I have lost count of the ways I have tried to keep this child entertained. We went back to water play today. Walking into the kitchen with no diaper was enough to get me to stop doing dishes and run a bath for a break. Mike needed a short break, so did mommy. And I needed to research.
From my sofa I could look into the bathroom. Trying to google is next to impossible, I am trying to compare the Fisher Price IXL, Mobigo, and the Leapster Explorer. Electronics for toddlers? Where are the days where pots and pans entertained a little boy? Bugs and dirt? Ok, well that he does, but I need him in the house, not out in the open, where his limits are endless and I could get arrested.
I need to know if it will keep him occupied, if I could borrow one a day that would be great, I would analyze his reaction to each of them. If he doesn't understand he slams it on the floor, that would be a "no" check, if he loves it he hides so no one can take it away, taking up hours of his attention (away from me). This is something I am willing to pay top dollar for, if this gave me the free time that I dream of, I am willing to also promote the product, create ads, give online testimonials and even fly my child out for commercials and photo shoots, yes, even travel. I have no problems sitting here waiting to pick him up from the airport.
Dreaming of such a thing I am lost in a daze. Suddenly the sound, the splashing sound. Like Michael Phelps is diving off of the window pane into my gallon sized bathtub. I walk in, the mismatched rug is splattered with water. I stand in place and just stare at the child. He smiles, I can't help but smile back. I sit on the sink and sing the ABC's, he jumps again. My arm goes into position to stop the diving drills. Then the famous crocodile death roll, and we are out of the bathtub.
I wonder just how much trouble he is going to need to be rescued from. I put him down on the rug and he runs to my bedroom, under my covers no doubt.
He reminds me of the movie Friday where they talk about "you can't catch a crack-head", for a moment I rest on the sofa. My child seems to always be high on caffeine, that is the only thing I can think of, now where he gets the drug from, I don't know. I don't have chocolate or soda. At least none that is missing.
But my child likes to do jumps into the bathtub, so he is more Michael Phelps, and I shall dub him Phelps, without the pot.
I know that it will take me a lot of time and energy to put the diaper on, I let him run and drain the battery. Diego jumps in and then Juno, they run from my bed to the living room and back.
I towel the bathroom floor dry and let them run wild, I try to straighten up, I can see the dust on the mirror and glass panels in the bathroom, where does all the dust come from? I turn off the light switch.
There, it's gone.
The towel goes into the dirty laundry bin, making more laundry that I don't want to wash. Going into the boys' room, I look at the toys and head for the drawers, he needs to just wear pajamas today. We are calling it a pajama day. I want to just rest.
Next to the bunk beds are all of my Tupperware, square, rectangle, circle shaped, laying out and sitting in a puddle. My Tupperware, I didn't even realize it was missing, is there nothing sacred anymore!!! He just snatches my Tupperware and uses it as a port-o-potty, his potty is right in the corner. What do I have to do to make him understand which plastic ware to piss in?
After assessing the damage and wrestling my Olympic phenomenon into his Buzz Lightyear pj's I collect the samples, just the right amount of pee to test for all of the recreational drugs 2 year olds take these days.
From my sofa I could look into the bathroom. Trying to google is next to impossible, I am trying to compare the Fisher Price IXL, Mobigo, and the Leapster Explorer. Electronics for toddlers? Where are the days where pots and pans entertained a little boy? Bugs and dirt? Ok, well that he does, but I need him in the house, not out in the open, where his limits are endless and I could get arrested.
I need to know if it will keep him occupied, if I could borrow one a day that would be great, I would analyze his reaction to each of them. If he doesn't understand he slams it on the floor, that would be a "no" check, if he loves it he hides so no one can take it away, taking up hours of his attention (away from me). This is something I am willing to pay top dollar for, if this gave me the free time that I dream of, I am willing to also promote the product, create ads, give online testimonials and even fly my child out for commercials and photo shoots, yes, even travel. I have no problems sitting here waiting to pick him up from the airport.
Dreaming of such a thing I am lost in a daze. Suddenly the sound, the splashing sound. Like Michael Phelps is diving off of the window pane into my gallon sized bathtub. I walk in, the mismatched rug is splattered with water. I stand in place and just stare at the child. He smiles, I can't help but smile back. I sit on the sink and sing the ABC's, he jumps again. My arm goes into position to stop the diving drills. Then the famous crocodile death roll, and we are out of the bathtub.
I wonder just how much trouble he is going to need to be rescued from. I put him down on the rug and he runs to my bedroom, under my covers no doubt.
He reminds me of the movie Friday where they talk about "you can't catch a crack-head", for a moment I rest on the sofa. My child seems to always be high on caffeine, that is the only thing I can think of, now where he gets the drug from, I don't know. I don't have chocolate or soda. At least none that is missing.
But my child likes to do jumps into the bathtub, so he is more Michael Phelps, and I shall dub him Phelps, without the pot.
I know that it will take me a lot of time and energy to put the diaper on, I let him run and drain the battery. Diego jumps in and then Juno, they run from my bed to the living room and back.
I towel the bathroom floor dry and let them run wild, I try to straighten up, I can see the dust on the mirror and glass panels in the bathroom, where does all the dust come from? I turn off the light switch.
There, it's gone.
The towel goes into the dirty laundry bin, making more laundry that I don't want to wash. Going into the boys' room, I look at the toys and head for the drawers, he needs to just wear pajamas today. We are calling it a pajama day. I want to just rest.
Next to the bunk beds are all of my Tupperware, square, rectangle, circle shaped, laying out and sitting in a puddle. My Tupperware, I didn't even realize it was missing, is there nothing sacred anymore!!! He just snatches my Tupperware and uses it as a port-o-potty, his potty is right in the corner. What do I have to do to make him understand which plastic ware to piss in?
After assessing the damage and wrestling my Olympic phenomenon into his Buzz Lightyear pj's I collect the samples, just the right amount of pee to test for all of the recreational drugs 2 year olds take these days.
Friday, November 26, 2010
Oops, I did it again
You know I haven't had the chance to blog, mostly because everyone who watched my child is now petrified of watching the little felon. So I miss you guys.
I had a chance to blog and decided to spend a little alone time with my other half.
I talked him into a sensual massage and he lay on the bed waiting. I lathered the ointment on my hands, rubbed them together and began the massage.
I rubbed and decided to sit on his bottom, he was having trouble breathing, he didn't admit it, but I could tell, he sounded like he was having an asthma attack. I backed away and sat on the side, we played some Rob Thomas and I was enthralled, I rubbed in circled, tried to get all of the muscles that were balled up into stress and continued the session.
As time went by, like 3 minutes, I realized that the lotion was more of a syrup. But that didn't stop me, I waxed on, waxed off. I did the circles, began to knead and felt like I was making bread out of dough. Little flakes of skin began to appear like skin being rubbed off. I felt more like I was giving him a loopa scrubbing, he noticed.
I blew away the remnants of skin, they looked like spaghetti or thread, dark gray pieces of dead skin everywhere. I blew them away and his skin got hotter, I continued, this should be a good sign, heat.
He turned to me and his eyes did that wierd "WTF" look. I continued with a smile but there was definitely something way off.
He pulled the lotion bottle to his eyesight and read. "Did you know you are massaging me with lubricant?"
I smiled even wider, my eyes no longer visible.
"Do you have any idea how long it will take me to wash this shit off."
I looked at the bottle "Sensual Lubricant" well, I was right about the sensual.
"Nothing soap and water won't handle."
"It's glycerine."
The only thing I know about glycerine is that Bush sings it, and it's a great song, I looked at the ingredients, the first was glycerine. What is that, baby oil, lard, something from "Labyrinth" from the ever smelling stench pond? Really, just scrub with soap and water!
And with that the passion hauled ass out the window.
He went to bathe as I googled and facebook'd.
Definitely should have blogged.
I had a chance to blog and decided to spend a little alone time with my other half.
I talked him into a sensual massage and he lay on the bed waiting. I lathered the ointment on my hands, rubbed them together and began the massage.
I rubbed and decided to sit on his bottom, he was having trouble breathing, he didn't admit it, but I could tell, he sounded like he was having an asthma attack. I backed away and sat on the side, we played some Rob Thomas and I was enthralled, I rubbed in circled, tried to get all of the muscles that were balled up into stress and continued the session.
As time went by, like 3 minutes, I realized that the lotion was more of a syrup. But that didn't stop me, I waxed on, waxed off. I did the circles, began to knead and felt like I was making bread out of dough. Little flakes of skin began to appear like skin being rubbed off. I felt more like I was giving him a loopa scrubbing, he noticed.
I blew away the remnants of skin, they looked like spaghetti or thread, dark gray pieces of dead skin everywhere. I blew them away and his skin got hotter, I continued, this should be a good sign, heat.
He turned to me and his eyes did that wierd "WTF" look. I continued with a smile but there was definitely something way off.
He pulled the lotion bottle to his eyesight and read. "Did you know you are massaging me with lubricant?"
I smiled even wider, my eyes no longer visible.
"Do you have any idea how long it will take me to wash this shit off."
I looked at the bottle "Sensual Lubricant" well, I was right about the sensual.
"Nothing soap and water won't handle."
"It's glycerine."
The only thing I know about glycerine is that Bush sings it, and it's a great song, I looked at the ingredients, the first was glycerine. What is that, baby oil, lard, something from "Labyrinth" from the ever smelling stench pond? Really, just scrub with soap and water!
And with that the passion hauled ass out the window.
He went to bathe as I googled and facebook'd.
Definitely should have blogged.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Haircut Fiasco
It's been ages since I last cut my hair. I needed a new look, a new style, something that took me out of my current funk. I decided on Sunday morning that today was the day. The boys were getting a haircut, I would ride with and update my mane. As we were getting ready, the phone rang, and Lucy (short for Lucifer, my mom's pet name) called that Mike wanted to come home. My dad was already on the way with him, he pulled up before I hung up the call.
The boys went to get a haircut, I stayed home. Did the usual, laundry, cleaning, dishes. When my husband walked through the door, he told me to go ahead.
"Honey, I just got my hair done with Stacy and she did a good job." He knew I was hesitant for just anyone to cut my hair, my regular hair dresser would only see me on Saturdays, I couldn't wait I was head set, this would happen today.
"Ok, I will call."
I called and the little boy on the line said that she was almost done, he would write my name in for the next seat. I headed over and walked in.
"I am here for Stacy." He looked at me puzzled.
"Did you call?"
"I did." There was no sign of my name, he jotted my name down on a paper and put the paper to the corner. Possibly the corner just for Stacy. I sat down and read a magazine.
About this hair cutting place, there is a certain hair dresser that scares the bejesus out of me, she looks like this.
I avoid eye contact, conversations and any kind of possible run ins with her. She is less than 5 foot tall, wears heavy make up, has a nose that was flattened, possibly she slept on her face as an infant. *But aren't there doctors that fix that stuff for free, all she needs to do is move into a tent in a foreign country and apply, they should fix it, para free.
I am focused on reading, Gremlin girl is 2 feet away, cleaning up after her last client. She walks up, charges the client and calls out the next victim.
"Silvia." I look up, unable to breathe. This can't be. I asked for Stacy, she couldnt possibly be Stacy, she should be Broomhilda, or maybe even Anastasia. But Stacy doesn't fit her, unless it's short for Stacylopogus. I stand up, muster the best smile I can, and have a seat.
My husband was a walking dead man, he knew my fear of the gremlin. He even made a point not to allow her to get wet. I sat and explained the cut I want. I needed a Xanax now. I was sweating, dazed, and could feel my breaths growing deeper and deeper.
She pulled out a book with several cuts, the one I wanted in the middle, she set the book in front of the mirror and began to wash and dry. I was still in utter disbelief that she was touching my hair. I thought she did floors.
From time to time I watched over to the Dufus child, going through Vogue magazines at the front desk, he was the one who picked up the phone. I wondered where there was a pick, the ones at the end of the combs, and how far I would get if I attempted to stab him in the eye.
I looked at her name and it started with an N, but I couldnt pronounce it, or her country I am sure. She was hard to understand, but they called her Nacy. How fucking sweet.
I really wanted to say, my appointment is with Stacy, but didn't have the heart or the balls at that moment. I continued to concentrate on my breathing.
She talked, and talked, and I understood one out of every three word she spoke. I wondered if she was a big fan of Steven Speilberg.
She discussed the turmoil in Haiti, inquiring why they didn't just drive supplies and haul them all over here in a bus. I hoped that her gift from God came through her hands and scissors, she wasn't curing any diseases soon, she wasn't even capable of helping those in Haiti, her ideas were shot to hell as soon as she opened her mouth. Maybe she was a former member of the Bush administration, they get all kinds of kooky ideas.
After combing my hair, she sprayed Miracle spray.
I can laugh just as much as the next person, maybe more. She combed my hair and it was straight. Einstein went on a half hour lecture on how I didn't need a straightener my hair was straight when wet, thanks to her Miracle spray, all for the bargain of $30, she must not know that the Jew in me runs deep. For all of you blessed with straight hair, please know that when wet, most curly hair looks straight, it's wet. There is no Miracle. She commented over and over again about how "Now she believes in Miracles." Laughing hysterically. I dazed off into the mirror, my panic attack in full force.
She finished the cut and then at the bangs she dug the comb in and twisted it from side to side causing a waterfall of dandruff, making me flustered and embarrassed. She looked at me after combing my hair into Little Mary Jane. (Surely because she was on some heavy Mary Jane) and looked at me and said. "OK."
I looked in the mirror, no gel, no blowdry, no mousse, no nothing.
"This is great." I said, wanting to run.
I thanked her and walked over to pay Vogue boy.
"So was that Stacy?"
He looked at me, "I don't know who got your call."
Hint, hint asshole! I spoke to a male, you are the only one fitting the description although at the moment, I am sure that these woman are more capable than you will ever be at any kind of customer assistance. I wanted to, but didn't. I walked away, giving him dirty looks, answering his questions with one word.
I know that the hair cut is great, but I don't think I could deal with her. It's that curse of little foreign people, it was like being caged with my beloved mother in law, having her ask me questions about things she would never understand.
I love the haircut, but really need to find a new place, unless the haircut comes with a shot and medication, they won't be seeing me again. Sorry gremlin chick.
The boys went to get a haircut, I stayed home. Did the usual, laundry, cleaning, dishes. When my husband walked through the door, he told me to go ahead.
"Honey, I just got my hair done with Stacy and she did a good job." He knew I was hesitant for just anyone to cut my hair, my regular hair dresser would only see me on Saturdays, I couldn't wait I was head set, this would happen today.
"Ok, I will call."
I called and the little boy on the line said that she was almost done, he would write my name in for the next seat. I headed over and walked in.
"I am here for Stacy." He looked at me puzzled.
"Did you call?"
"I did." There was no sign of my name, he jotted my name down on a paper and put the paper to the corner. Possibly the corner just for Stacy. I sat down and read a magazine.
About this hair cutting place, there is a certain hair dresser that scares the bejesus out of me, she looks like this.
I avoid eye contact, conversations and any kind of possible run ins with her. She is less than 5 foot tall, wears heavy make up, has a nose that was flattened, possibly she slept on her face as an infant. *But aren't there doctors that fix that stuff for free, all she needs to do is move into a tent in a foreign country and apply, they should fix it, para free.
I am focused on reading, Gremlin girl is 2 feet away, cleaning up after her last client. She walks up, charges the client and calls out the next victim.
"Silvia." I look up, unable to breathe. This can't be. I asked for Stacy, she couldnt possibly be Stacy, she should be Broomhilda, or maybe even Anastasia. But Stacy doesn't fit her, unless it's short for Stacylopogus. I stand up, muster the best smile I can, and have a seat.
My husband was a walking dead man, he knew my fear of the gremlin. He even made a point not to allow her to get wet. I sat and explained the cut I want. I needed a Xanax now. I was sweating, dazed, and could feel my breaths growing deeper and deeper.
She pulled out a book with several cuts, the one I wanted in the middle, she set the book in front of the mirror and began to wash and dry. I was still in utter disbelief that she was touching my hair. I thought she did floors.
From time to time I watched over to the Dufus child, going through Vogue magazines at the front desk, he was the one who picked up the phone. I wondered where there was a pick, the ones at the end of the combs, and how far I would get if I attempted to stab him in the eye.
I looked at her name and it started with an N, but I couldnt pronounce it, or her country I am sure. She was hard to understand, but they called her Nacy. How fucking sweet.
I really wanted to say, my appointment is with Stacy, but didn't have the heart or the balls at that moment. I continued to concentrate on my breathing.
She talked, and talked, and I understood one out of every three word she spoke. I wondered if she was a big fan of Steven Speilberg.
She discussed the turmoil in Haiti, inquiring why they didn't just drive supplies and haul them all over here in a bus. I hoped that her gift from God came through her hands and scissors, she wasn't curing any diseases soon, she wasn't even capable of helping those in Haiti, her ideas were shot to hell as soon as she opened her mouth. Maybe she was a former member of the Bush administration, they get all kinds of kooky ideas.
After combing my hair, she sprayed Miracle spray.
I can laugh just as much as the next person, maybe more. She combed my hair and it was straight. Einstein went on a half hour lecture on how I didn't need a straightener my hair was straight when wet, thanks to her Miracle spray, all for the bargain of $30, she must not know that the Jew in me runs deep. For all of you blessed with straight hair, please know that when wet, most curly hair looks straight, it's wet. There is no Miracle. She commented over and over again about how "Now she believes in Miracles." Laughing hysterically. I dazed off into the mirror, my panic attack in full force.
She finished the cut and then at the bangs she dug the comb in and twisted it from side to side causing a waterfall of dandruff, making me flustered and embarrassed. She looked at me after combing my hair into Little Mary Jane. (Surely because she was on some heavy Mary Jane) and looked at me and said. "OK."
I looked in the mirror, no gel, no blowdry, no mousse, no nothing.
"This is great." I said, wanting to run.
I thanked her and walked over to pay Vogue boy.
"So was that Stacy?"
He looked at me, "I don't know who got your call."
Hint, hint asshole! I spoke to a male, you are the only one fitting the description although at the moment, I am sure that these woman are more capable than you will ever be at any kind of customer assistance. I wanted to, but didn't. I walked away, giving him dirty looks, answering his questions with one word.
I know that the hair cut is great, but I don't think I could deal with her. It's that curse of little foreign people, it was like being caged with my beloved mother in law, having her ask me questions about things she would never understand.
I love the haircut, but really need to find a new place, unless the haircut comes with a shot and medication, they won't be seeing me again. Sorry gremlin chick.
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