Why Do We Not Carry Flasks?

Over the past few weeks, with Holidays, birthday parties, sporting events, meetings, etc. I have come to the realization that I really need to carry a flask.
All the time.
In my purse.
All the time.
Just in case.

I think I may be only partially joking here.
Especially when it gets colder, why aren't we drinking more?
I'm not talking about getting loaded. Just a little nip here and there. And here.
I think it would be better for everyone if I drank a little more and stressed a little less.

With the crowds and the people
And my kids and other kids
And stupid people and stupid kids
And chaos and congestion and stress and people taking shit waaaaay to seriously.
Momma need a drink! Now.
In a flask.
From her purse.
Just in case

And indoor birthday parties? Please.
I have been to two birthday parties on Saturdays in December. One I hosted.
Damn Winter birthdays? Why DIDN'T I bring a flask?
The kids had a great time. I was straight up buggin out.

I would have been way better with just a little mommy beverage in my hand.
It's like a grown up security blanket.
Clink Clink.
All is well.

Examples where having a flask would be beneficial:

• Kinds birthday parties where there isn't open bar or a cooler (see, that's why I LOVE summer)
• waiting for Santa in a mall
• PTA meetings
• football games
• kids basketball or football or soccer games (I know I am not alone here, so pretend to be shocked)
• recitals of any kind
• sports lessons where you are forced to sit and watch and socialize with other parents you may or may not care for.

I know there are more, so feel free to comment on what I missed. I am starting a revolution here!

Why I love the gym

I'm not waaay out of shape, but I'm not as in shape as I would like to be.
I am no stranger to working out though. Back when I had free time, like, before kids,
I used to do sit ups and push ups by the hundreds.
Each day.
On purpose.
I loved yoga.
I had six pack abs. No shit.
Thank GOD I took pictures.

Now,
like I said, I am still relatively tall and thin (god bless genes)
but my six pack turned to four, then disappeared completely.
What used to be my awesome rower's thighs of steel are now what my children like to call "wobbly".
Or floppy.
"mama, your bottom is so floppy."
"Your underwear is too small for your bottom"
Aw, thanks.
don't ya just love kids.
Or just wish they would stay the hell out of the bathroom.


Needless to say, time to get my floppy butt back to the gym on more than a monthly basis.
Or perhaps work out for a longer period of time than I spend in the sauna.
Just an idea.

I am now in week two of every other day light/moderate workouts of 30 minutes followed by a bevy of sit ups and push ups. Days off are stretching and light walking. Seriously not too hard.

What the hell was I thinking?
Why do I not remember this hurting so damn bad ten years ago?
Oh yeah, because I was young, hot, and had time to recover.
Now every damn thing hurts.
I did A TOTAL 30 fucking push ups today, and toting the laundry basket up a flight of stairs was painful.
30. I used to do 30 push ups during one commercial break.
And damn the ipod!
My workout music was so awesome today I may have pushed a little harder.
Tomorrow I am sticking with slow jazz. And I'm spending more time in that sauna.
ow.

And now, my day still isn't over. I get to move small children in and out of tubs, or bed, or off each other to prevent major injury.
I think this is all the workout I can handle.

I will continue to do my every other day routine at the gym . It sure beats freaking out over the PTA budget. But I may even out sauna and workout time.
You gotta sweat something off, right?
And really, the best part of the gym, aside from the sauna, is that I get to take a shower by myself.
Without someone small remarking on the size of my floppy bottom.

Meltdown

When Jon and I were dating. I had to cancel a date because I was having an asthma flareup. I was sick, and embarrassed, so I told Jon to stay home. Instead he came to my apartment with cheesy poofs and grape soda? Why? Because it makes you feel better.
And it did.
Love that guy.

Yesterday:
I woke up with a cough and chest pain.
For most people, a cough is no big deal.
I have severe asthma and a tiny, angry left lung.
My coughs are pathetic, and they hurt like a sonofabitch.
A cough for me is usually a sign of serious crap in my lungs, and at the least a pain in my ass.

So I had that going for me, which was nice.

We are also on week 2 of Jon working all day and night, leaving me with no downtime, or quality grownup time, and therefore super chipper.

And a big PTA even is coming up, so of course I am freaking out needlessly.

Then I had a "meeting" with a school administrator about an issue I was and continued to be concerned about, not just for my kids but for a lot of kids who I think are not being served as best they could. The "meeting" was held while standing up in the hallway. So immediately I felt about as valued as a speck of dust. I was given a very nice, noncommittal answer that I didn't like. I understood it. I was still pissed.

And that was all it took.
Before I got out of the school, I had broken into tears.
I am not usually one for public crying.
So I felt AWESOME.

Luckily, the handful of people who saw me know me well enough not to crowd me. I shut myself in a room, and collected myself. Sort of.

So I made it to my car and left a weepy message on Jon's voicemail.

Then I went to the grocery store and bought some emergency face powder. Being a wreck is no reason to be blotchy.

So I took myself over to Urgent Care hoping to score some heavy cough syrup.
Turns out I was waay sicker than I thought, and I needed a lot more than codeine.

Poppa wasa great other husband to be yesterday. We had homemade soup that I didn't make, and he let me take a nap yesterday and today.

And Jon came home at 9ish with grape soda and cheesy poofs.

I am now on lots of meds, a littler better rested, and still barely grumpy.

I put the kids in a Parents Night Out thingy till 10 tonight. I may take myself to the movies. I may take myself out to a movie, or more napping.
But I am waay better.
And that, was my meltdown.

Angry Mom

I know the following about myself and try to manage the best I can.

• I do not have the world's longest temper
• I have a tendency to curse like a trucker, especially when fired up
• I can tend to be a little high energy, I like to think it's part of my charm.
• I really, REALLY HATE being told to "calm down" or "relax", except for maybe in medical situations when the reminder doesn't hurt.

*I am not joking in the least about that one, and if you think you are going to be cute and tell me to calm down know that I may go West Side on your ass and throw an elbow, don't think I won't. See number one of things I know about myself.

So, obviously, when parenting, I try to minimize all of these little gems, and I go a little Zen on my kids for the most part.
Although SB has a cute little habit of counting my swears, she doesn't need to hear them all the time. Nor does she need to use that talent of hers often.

It may sound lame, but I do lots of shit to keep calm and regulate the kids when they are acting like fools.
I count to ten. Or twenty. In French (it takes a little longer).
I leave the room when they are throwing a tantrum, rather than paying them attention.
I speak softer,slower, or not at all, when they are yelling at me or each other (A wonder Ritz Carlton service trick I will keep with me always).
And, when all of that doesn't work. I will look those little screaming, writhing, angels in the eyes and tell them that if they don't get their minds right in a hurry, Mommy will have a FREAK OUT!
They don't know entirely what that means, but they know it can't be good.

Lately, however, Angry Mom has been stepping in.
Jon is working on something big, so he's been working from 6am-9pm every day for the last two weeks. Every day. Including weekends and National Holidays. Motherfucker.
PTA deadlines have been in full swing, and there has been a lot of cash to keep track of.
So basically, stress is setting in.

Hence, Angry Mom.
Angry Mom turns off the TV and walks away.
Angry Mom raises her voice when the kids talk back.
Angry Mom takes No shit. From anyone. Ever.

So one morning, when the kids were late for an even that was not school, and therefore optional, I informed them that I had enough of this craziness. I would not be yelled at because I picked out the wrong pair of shoes for an able bodied child who is perfectly capable of getting one's own shoes. And they needed to get it together or perish.
Those may have been my exact words. Angry mom has a vocabulary.

My mother in law, hearing all this, tells me "Honey, just calm down"'

Awww SNAP!

"I love you. I will not calm down."

My Father in Law says, "Let her yell, she never yells. It's good for them"

She says it again."I know, but you need to relax."

Snap. SNAP!

So, Angry Mom did not yell and rant at her mother in law. She kissed her on the head. went to the living room, counted backwards from 100 by threes in french (no shit, or merde, in this case)
and came back, said thanks for the tip, swooped up the kids, and left.

SB, my awesome kid who knows about Angry Mom and why she came to be with us for that week, said, "Mom, i don't like it when you have a Freak Out, but I get it. Mommy Need a Hug?".
"Yes indeedy Princess. Mommy would LOVE a hug."
Awesome, kid. Love you.

I Hate Nature...Sometimes

I am from the city.
Not the suburbs.
The city.
We had alleys and traffic and I took the city bus to school and when I was late I took a cab.
We walked a lot. There were sidewalks.
And museums, And different cultures and food and people and ideas.
Every once in a while, I miss it.

My beautiful family and I live waaay out in the burbs. 45 minutes from DC or Baltimore.
But, I do love it.
We have a huge yard. Huge.
And a great big house and animals and space and a long safe driveway to ride bikes and skateboards and a wonderful community and great schools and nature.
but every once in a while, I need to get out of the fucking nature!

Autumn would be one of these times. Yes. It's beautiful. The leaves are turning.
The breeze is blowing. But fucking nature is everywhere.

Our HUGE county fair goes on in late September.
Yup. County fair. With food and crafts and a shitload of animals and hay and grass and poop and nature.
And of course my little angels want to wallow in it and see every damn creature and pet them and make friends and frolic in the hay. So we go. Often.
That was my catalyst to get the hell out of town.

That, and pumpkin patches. I think I hate pumpkin patches too.
The ones out here are way out in the boonies, on a farm with more nature.
You park in some mud hole and gather with thousands of your friends while the kids clamor to go through mazes and jump on bouncy things and jump in dried corn and go to the petting zoo and take the fucking hay ride so you can trek through more mud and pick up way too many pumpkins that you now have to carry back.

So, this momma needed a break.

I just needed sidewalks and taxis and public transportation and museums and trash and traffic and a couple homeless people and culture and a sad little tree surrounded by a fence and buildings close together and people who didn't know me and don't want to.

Luckily, I have a husband who loves me and knows of my breaking point with nature and my need for city. By my damn self. No kids. Quality Becca time.

Chicago was out of the question. Not enough time or money.

But DC would do.
So I hired a sitter for a Friday when the kids had off school, and I left.
I stayed in a hotel. I walked on sidewalks.
I took a cab and I rode the metro.
I went to museums and lingered.
I went to a coffeehouse.
I hung out with a few great old friends.
It was fantastic.

And now I am ready for more nature.
Just no more pumpkin patches.

A Bad Day and Cotton Panties?

I had a very cruddy day today.

I had an asthma attack. Not one that quickly went away. One that hurt, and lingered, and took a lot of meds to get back to normal. Then I got to spend the rest of the day recovering from all the meds. Shaky, cranky, wheezy me.

Jonny was okay for a while, but he's 4, so he had his moments. I was not allowed to stay in bed all day, there were games to play and movies to watch. Yes, I turn to the almighty television in times like these.
Go ahead and judge.

Then Sydney came home, and we had some family fun before we all had to rush off for Princess' poms practice.

Of course, while running a few essential errands before practice, the kids decided to act like complete animals. They continued this display of utter madness in the car on the short drive to the practice field.

I remember yelling at the kids to get out of the car, keep their hand to themselves, and get Princess down to field before I said anything else unpleasant.

The rest of the hour was a blur of chatter gossip, and trying to keep Jonny entertained and away from the port o potties.

I did not realize I left my keys in the car, with the lights on, until it was time to go home and my battery was dead. Perfect,

A very nice dad helped jump my car. Of course during all this craziness my kids decide to completely leave my sight, which was also very helpful to my state of mind. Not really, but in retrospect it probably was best for my temper. I recruited a mom to watch them so they weren't completely unattended.

So I tried really hard not to cry, and I succeeded. Until I got home and I got a gluten free beer, and had a little sniffle.

Then my awesome husband came home and heard me gripe.
He was patient. He was understanding.

Then he said, "you know why this all happened, don't you?"
"NO I don't, please enlighten me"
"Cotton Underpants"
"Scuse me?"
"Seriously, when was the lace time you wore a lacy bra or underpants? I bet this wouldn't happen if you were wearing fancy pants."
"Thanks so much, baby. I have no idea how I would get through the day without you."
"I love you. Tomorrow is a new day"

Guess what I'm wearing tomorrow, just in case.

I Am No Quitter. I May Be Nuts, But I Am No Quitter.

I fell off my Skateboard. Again.

I have fallen off my board twice in 4 years. TWICE.

Yet each time it is in front of the whole damn family.

motherfucker.


Jon told me when I took up skateboarding again, that I was too old, and that I would fall on face.
I told him to shut up. I would probably fall, but big deal right?
We fall all the time.
Plus, there were my kids, frolicking in the driveway on their bikes, and I was sitting on the porch.
Sitting?
I am not much of a sitter.
So what the heck?
As a city kid, I was never one for bikes. Mine got stolen a lot.
So I took out an OLD skateboard, and gave it a shot.
Now, four years later, I actually wear a helmet.
We never did that shit before.
Of course I also don't ride a skateboard while holding onto a moving car anymore.
Call me crazy.

So I fell again, which will now remind me to also wear elbow and knee pads in the future.
And while Jon was putting band aids on me and laughing, I cried.
Not because it hurt, because he was right. I fell.
Crap.
My pride hurt way more than my elbow.
I was filled with embarrassment and doubt. Should I really quit skateboarding? Is my vanity blinding my reality? DO we really get to old for some sports? Can't be!

I will not give up.

We tell our kids all the time to get back up after they fall. Why can't I?
Why shouldn't I?
What kind of role model would I be if I quit because it hurt every once in a while.
Yes, foul mouthed one, but at least I practice what I preach.

I love to skateboard, it reminds me of me.
Yeah, it hurts sometime, but its worth it to me.
Isn't that what we teach our kids?

Why should that lesson have an expiration date?
So I bought more Advil, I wear more pads, but I have NOT quit.
Say what you want.

What I Learned On Summer Vacation

This week was the first week of school for my second grader, and my pre-K er, or whatever.
He was on the bus, and I did not turn into a HUGE ball of mush. It is a great benefit to be in the PTA Mafia however,so I have semi legitimate reasons to stalk.
Anyway, this week was tough. I found myself grasping for the gluten free beer at 4 o'clock on Friday and telling myself, out loud, "you made it". Holy shit.

Rather than think about all the madness that this year will hold, I'd like to reflect on the summer that is quickly ending, and what I learned...

• Disney World is as much for me as it is for the kids, Dammit!

I went to Walt Disney Magnet School in Chicago,and I was brainwashed as a child. My first Disney World trip was on my honeymoon. I LOVE that damn place. So when SydneyBeth was throwing drama, not tired, not overwhelmed, not scared, just dramatic- AT DISNEY- at 11am- I sort of lost it "I just don't understand why you're not happy,you're in DISNEY WORLD!" I said those words to my kid. During her time out for throwing a stuffed Pluto at her brother. Obviously my husband had to intervene.

• Seeing your kids, and their grandmother, and their great grandmother, get all weepy and giddy when they meet the princesses is worth whatever crazy amount it cost.
• Seeing your husband with a perpetual smile, and doing crazy shit like dance- in public- is just as good.
  

• Although I may wear the same size as when I was 25, my butt and gravity have become MUCH better friends. Therefore, those cute hotshorts swim bottoms will not be replaced by the sassy swim skirt. And I apologize to everyone on the beach while I figured that one out.
• I realize I am a stay at home mom, and I do love hanging out with my kids. But GOD BLESS SUMMER CAMPS! Especially ones that take 4 year olds and make them tired. I will only do bouncy camp next summer, because that is the only one my kids stuck with. And no, I will not fight and fuss with my children about forcing them to camp. It's CAMP- they should WANT to go.
• Hearing the six year old say " Ugh mom, I am so tired of going to all these POOLS!", makes me want to shake my kid, turn into my dad, and tell her about how when I was a kid I went to the pool maybe once or twice a summer. and only with day camp. and a city pool and a country club pool are two very different things and she is damn lucky to have such a life. And at the same time, it makes me happy that she does get such a life. Weird, eh?
• I still REALLY enjoy summer concerts with good friends. Although now I decide to spend my money on Harry Connick Jr and Marvin Hamlisch.
  
• Face painting is fun at a birthday party, for all ages.
  
• It is REALLY REALLY nice to have friends with cabins in the woods. It was so nice to hang with a friend, escape the humidity, and entertain the kids all at the same time.
• School shopping is both stressful and a competitive sport.
  
• This summer went by REALLY fast.

See ya at the bus stop.

Mama Drama

I must admit, I got sucked in.

The day school was out, Syd got her report card.
On the report card was a little white sticker. With the name of her teacher for next year.
Almost immediately the phone began to ring.

"Who did you get?"
At first, I had no idea what the question meant.
Then I got it.
"Oh, Syd got Soandso."
Then, the dreaded response.
"oh"
Or, more of an "Ugh"

Crap.
So, then the gossip starts.
"Well, I heard from my friend that she is mean, unorganized, and your princess will learn nothing all year and eventually turn into an uneducated delinquent who will go on to a life of crime"
Or something like that.
At least that's what I heard.

It took me exactly two hours to spiral into worry, anger, and despair.
SB was going to be a juvenile delinquent by 2nd grade, and I had to put a stop to it!

That weekend was Hell. There was some serious stewing going on.
The following Monday I talked to the Principal. She confirmed what I figured out on Sunday.
I was crazy. The gossip was slightly exaggerated. And Princess would be fine.
Maybe even excel.
Who knows?

I also got a call from the teacher, making sure we have good communication.
She said she's so excited to have Princess in her class.

The drama is over.
Next time I just have to get a hold of my damn self.
Please remind me of this moment the next time I see that little white sticker.

A Mommy Playdate

I know I should be past this, but as a stay at home mom, and a grown ass woman, it is really nice to find a new friend.
For me.
Not because she has kids the same age. She doesn't.
Just because I like the cut of her jib.
I met her at a PTA party. I know, I am sooo glamorous.
She's taller than me, curses like a sailor, and enjoys a cocktail from time to time.
Obviously, I was smitten.

So we set up a playdate, like all moms do.
Had to cancel the first time because Jonny had strep. I know, sooo jealous of my life!
So, we had to reschedule. We just had our mommy date yesterday.

We went to her development's pool. I had never been. It was awesome and frightening all at the same time. Some kids running around like wild animals escaped from the zoo while their mothers were miles away working on their tans and gossip. Other cool people I knew who stooped by to chat. Crazy. Fun. Weird.

Reminding me that I could never live there because, with my lack of filter, I'd be blackballed in a heartbeat.

But I digress.
It was just cool, to talk to someone who was like me, but not like me.
We shared parenting views, which is surprisingly hard to find sometimes.
Her kids are awesome and respectful. Again, surprisingly rare.

We shared some stories, commiserated over the loss of a parent. Understood what it was like to not live in the same place your whole life, and just hung out.
Again, it was so nice.

She kept asking if I could see my kids OK, so that I had an eye on them in the pool, which I thought was so thoughtful. As much as I would love to think I can just let my kids go, I can't.

And we spent almost 4 hours at the frickin pool! The longest any of us had ever been at a pool in one sitting! AMAZING!

And Jonny slept like a rock as soon as I strapped him in the car seat.
A very productive day for all.

I'm so fired up! I did something for me! Sort of. And Sydney told Daddy tonight at dinner that she and Jonny went with Mommy on her playdate.

Awesome.

Last Week of School Meltdown, For Me.

I am losing it this week.
I am not confident I can make it to Monday.

All week long, Sydney Beth has announced it's the last whatever of first grade.
"Today is the last Tuesday of First Grade", etc.
Today was the teddy bear picnic with all the classes. So cute you could almost vomit.
The kids had such a good time, but there's the sneaky feeling that next year they would be waaay to cool for that. Crap.

I also have the pleasure of being the PTA treasurer, so while I am dealing with the fact that my oldest is growing up faster than I would prefer, I have to be the personal ATM for all departments of the school who have decided to sit on their damn hands until the very last minute.
Seriously?
No, the end of our fiscal year is in 2 weeks,and you had all year to put in your check requests, but THIS WEEK would be a perfect time for me to go over what I can and cannot reimburse you for. And sure, I would LOVE to turn over this check for you in 24 hours. Because I have nothing better to do and I'm not a VOLUNTEER or anything.

I really am cracking up. I have never been hostile over the PTA before. not really.

And, I dropped Jonny off at his friends' house to play,and I left.
And he didn't even burst into tears when I left.

Dammit.

Still "edgy in my mom-mobile". HELL YEAH!

Yesterday a friend gave me an AWESOME compliment.
"I love your hip, edgy blog".
Seriously? Personally, I think I am sooooo lame, but I'll take it.

So I was cruising in the Giant Parking lot today, low and slow.
3 miles an hour so everyone can see you, as Will Smith says.
I was pumpin' a little Snoop Dogg, LOUD (on the 90's station)
And I just had to giggle at myself.

I have no idea how I got here.
Actually, I do, and it's a looong, crazy story,
but I am diggin' life as a crazy ass housewife.

Every once in a while, or more, I try to remember who I was before domestic bliss.
I put on makeup. Wear a bra with under wire. Put red streaks in my little pixie hairdo.
Pump the nineties old school rap.
And I know I look a fool, but I do not care.
I have to represent.
And I do LOVE my life.

So if you want to call me "edgy", go for it.
It is a huge honor.
I definitely was edgy once.
So I will take it, and thanks.
Hopefully I am teaching my kids that a little edge is good for you.

Rock on!

Do I Have to do EVERYTHING?

Jesus, Mary, and Joesph!
or, as my 4 year old would say, "Jesus Mary and the other guy"

But seriously? How do these people function when I am not around?

Dirty dishes do not magically clean themselves!

We are having the driveway sealed. The neighbor is graciously dealing with the logistics. She tells me it's going to be on a Saturday, do we have a preference of morning or afternoon.
"Nah, we'll be here. Whatever works best for you"
Well, wrong answer. SOME MALE in my house wants me to call her back and tell her HE doesn't want to be off the driveway for a whole weekend, so SHE needs to reschedule it for the morning.
Can the grown ass man do it himself? no.

Jonny needs juice.
In a sippy cup.
With a blue top.
No, make that iced tea.
With a blue top.

Daddy is playing video games.
Tough life.

Then, SOME MALE asks me if I have purchased plane tickets for a trip that I AM NOT GOING ON.
"Um no. I priced the trips. I wrote it all down for you. Did you keep the paper?"
"No, can you check to see if anything has changed?"
"Actually I check yesterday when I got an Internet sale notice, but the price is the same"
"Oh, can you do it again?"
"No dude, are you SHITTING ME?"

That's when I went to bed.

Why Am I Awake?

It's 3 something in the morning, and I am UP!
I hate these days.
I think it's karma.
You can't have an awesome Memorial Day weekend, and then just expect to SLEEP, can you?
Not this girl.

I love my house. It is a place where people just show up and linger, and that is exactly what I love about it. It's what I always wanted, even before I knew it. A place where everyone is welcome and comfortable.

This weekend, we had a couple good friends just show up and linger, so we made it a party. Pulled out the slip n slide for the kids, invited a few more, and fired up the grill. Amazing how steaks for 6 can now feed ten. I swear it's like the loaves and fishes, but with beer. Lots of beer.

So this weekend ROCKED! And the boys made the new deck, which means I no longer contemplate the regrets of my life every time I use the steps on the deck.

This week should rock too. A week full of celebration, shows, and a weekend that should come quickly.

No way, baby.

Take the kids to their gymnastics show, after prying them out of the house. Show goes well, dad is golfing, but it's all good. Show ends and am taking kids to celebratory pizza dinner when a headache and nausea hit me like the proverbial ton of bricks.

Shit.

Make it through dinner. The crab dip with fries was probably not the best choice. It was not fun coming back up as SOON as I got through the door.

See? Karma.
And now I am UP!.
Awesome.

My. Fuse. Is. Short. Today

I have a head cold.
I am oxygen challenged, especially in the more humid of months, and a head cold equals all sorts of unpleasantness for me. So I knew today was going to e an awesome day.

SydneyBeth slept like a ROCK. No really, I shook that girl for a good solid minute (hello! child services) and the little darling would not get up. And since I was not operating on all cylinders, I let her sleep.

Needless to say, SB was 30 minutes late for school. When I arrived with SB at the school office, looking spectacular with no makeup, baseball cap, and my jammies (yes, I am that mom on occasion), OF COURSE today is the day that EVERYONE in the front office had PTA related finance questions.
Fabulous.
I sounded like Lindsey Lohan the day after a chain smoking and whiskey fueled bender. Pretty sure I felt like it too.

Then Jonny and I headed for the weekly grocery shopping trip that I had already put off twice. If we didn't go today, the kids would be packing diet cokes for lunch.

So, for the SECOND WEEK IN A ROW, Jonny has to tinkle just as I am in the checkout lane.
Seriously.
He's four. There is no holding it.
Luckily, the store was not busy, my order was huge, and the checker promised to go slow.

By the way. I am pretty sure he does it on purpose to spite me. Maybe it is because I ask him to smile at my friends to show off his dimples? Whatever it is,. this crap is getting OLD. I swear I am definitely showing his naked baby pictures to his girlfriends when he is a teenager. I will point to this blog as my motive.

On the way home from gymnastics, the kids decided to wage World War in the backseat. Over what? No idea.
My course of action was to blast the Black Eyed Peas and, later, Glee until they had no choice but to sing a long.

I am a genius.

Then, exactly 5 minutes before I have to put everyone to bed, my father in law asks me to print up a trip tick from AAA for him. I am a member. He is not.
Of course, he needs it NOW. The trip is in a couple of WEEKS.
I am overjoyed.

Now the kids are snuggled with me, because they want to snuggle. Good. But here I am again, telling them not to LICK each other!

Pretty soon, there will be the famous Becca Clark call of distress, "I HAVE HAD IT!", which provokes my husband to fly up the stairs and swoop up a child.

Just. One. More. Whine.

I am not a nice person. I'm a person.

OK, I am a woman of the world.
I grew up in the city. I was not rich. There were times I had free lunch. No shame.
We moved up, moved down. I floated between socio-economic lines pretty easily. Education does that, but that is another blog...

So now, I am a happy housewife in the suburbs/ex burbs, and life is good. I will not lie. We have our issues, but I am damn happy to be here. So, when someone else is having a rough patch, doesn't everyone pitch in? Isn't that what you rich folks should do?

A friend has brain cancer. It's not pretty. She has a little girl. Time is of the essence. So, the vacation to Disney World has been moved up. To NOW. I knew about this, so of course I write a check.
"Oh Becca, that's so nice"
"No dude. It's normal. It's what you should do. I have it. You need it. Here."
Done and Done


Another friend's sister just lost everything in a house fire. She has 3 kids. So of course I stop what I'm doing and call everyone I know to gather up some supplies and cool stuff so the kids don't have to go to school in Red Cross Standard Issue. Believe me, I saw that crap. Not good.

So, while I was doing this today I got a lot of positive feedback. It was cool and all. But hello! This is normal! This is what we do? Right?

And if not? Why the hell not?

Believe me, in my neighborhood, if someone had a rough patch, the whole neighborhood pitched in. A kid whose grandparents were drunks was taken in when his mom disappeared. Indefinitely. My best friend's family took me in when I was having mom issues. They fed me, took me on vacation. Everything. No questions asked. Grace, who had 5 kids of her own, would make Polish Chicken soup for someone if they had so much as the sniffles. We all babysat, for nothing. Our parents, or someone, would kill us if we didn't take care of the little ones.



And, God forbid, if someone had a fire or a break in. We would clean out or house so the family would be comfortable. And don't get me started on the meals.

I realize the feedback here will be so much bigger than in my old neighborhood. And it should be. We have sooo much to give. This is our job!

I'm not a nice person. I'm a person. It takes a village. Always.

Things I Have Said in Public

They are a surprise, even to me, sometimes. But at the time, perfectly appropriate.
And I have said every damn one of these...

"Do not lick your sister"
"I do not negotiate with terrorists"
"Yes, you have to keep your underpants on, all day long"
"No, you may not pee in the grass."
"Sure, this is the perfect place for a cartwheel."
"Do not put your feet in your brother's face"
"Do not put your toes in your mouth"
"No, I do not want to smell your feet, thank you."
"Why yes, that is the biggest poop I've ever seen, thanks for pointing that out"
"No, you can't have dog food for breakfast"
"Get your dupa (butt) out of your sister's face"
"You cannot eat pudding without a spoon"
"Please, just eat with your hands" (Jonny likes to put his head in his food)
"Do not wipe your hands on your head"
"That boobie thing is called a bra, and yes, it is bigger than mine. Thanks."


Stay tuned...

Normal and LOUD

It's one of those days where absolutely nothing is easy.

Nothing is wrong, it's just not easy.

And everything is really friggin LOUD.

We had Muffins with Mom at Syd's school this morning. It was before 9am, so I was chipper as ever. Jonny was with us too. And it was LOUD.
"Mommy, I don't love this party", he says.
Right.
But it was cool. Syd loved it. And those mini creamers can make even the grumpiest 4 year old happy.

At home, the dishes were all piled up so I got to clang through them and tidy up the house. Why are males incapable of putting dishes in the dishwasher? It's inches away from the sink!

Jonny watched Mary Poppins, I cleaned recycle piles. Folded laundry.
Glamorous stuff.
Then the dog came through and demolished my laundry piles.
Awesome.

Ran all over the house putting laundry away, came down to find Jonny overturned the last laundry basket and was sitting UNDER it.
Too cute to be pissed, but I was working on it.

Then Syd came home from school and it was about 2 solid hours of
"Mommy Mommy MOMMY!"
LOUD

And my husband is unable or unwilling to make his own travel plans, so I had to be Julie the Cruise Director for a trip I'm not going on because I have to stay home with the kids, not that I'm bitter, because it's in Colorado, and I am physically unable to take a quick trip to Colorado. SO I found all his travel options but the punk still won't make a decision.
Awesome.

See, nothing WRONG, just not easy.

Now I just want to read in bed, and surprise! Two little bodies want to be touching!
"Mommy, I love you. I want to snuggle"
"I love you too, where's your dad?"

COMA

I have often said that I have two speeds, 100 MPH, and coma.

Last week, while my beloved was golfing, I was at 100 MPH.I was getting kids to and from school, gymnastics, trampoline, soccer, etc. I was hosting sleepovers. I was moving Grammy to and from wheelchairs, in and out of the house. And yes, I was a rock star carpet cleaner.

Yesterday, I hit COMA.

I have lung issues. Have since I was five. I spent a lot of time on the ninth floor (the lung floor) of Children's Memorial in Chicago in my youth, up to when I went to college. Why was the lung floor on the top of the building? cruel joke, I guess.
I am a better manager of my breathing now, and the improvement of pharmaceuticals over the last several years has helped a lot, but sometimes, I just can't breathe.

SO I was having an episode. Just chest pains, no real attack, but the damn thing wouldn't stop.

I took my arsenal of meds, still pain, and I was SO FRIGGIN TIRED.
And cold.
Something was not cool.

I figured it was steroid time, that dreaded time of the year where nothing else will work but a large does of oral steroids. No, not the body builder kind. The other kind that seems to cure just about anything quickly, but leaves you with killer headaches, bloated, jittery, and moody.

Awesome.

I marched into Urgent Care, and saw a doctor I know pretty well from my not so rare visits to Urgent Care(remember Jonny Danger?) . The cute one. Doctor Blue Eyes.

But first the nurse takes my vitals and she is pissed.
"Stop moving your arm, I can't get your blood pressure"
"I'm not moving my arm"
"Do you have low blood pressure?"
"Um, no"
"OK, let's do it again"
The second time it read 90/70. Shit.
Instead of the usual "looks fine", that nurse RAN out of my little room.
Fuck.
Blue Eyes comes right in to deal with the rest of me. He listens to my chest, and before I can tell him that I am the rare asthmatic who does not wheeze, he says,
"You're the one who normally doesn't wheeze, right"
"Why yes, thanks for remembering, I was just going to tell you that."
"Well, you are wheezing up a storm now. I'm glad you came in today"

Fuck.

So he waves the paper with my vitals on me, tells me I should be dead, and makes me promise to take immediate steroids, and follow up with more medication. And do nothing for the rest of the day.

Easy Peasy.

Welcome to my coma.

Luckily enough, Jon came running when I told him the happy news. He took the kids, and I took to bed, my meds, and some chocolate. See, I take direction well.

Now, I am a little loopy, slightly jittery, I have we rid sleeping habits and I am hungry all the time, but I can breathe, and my chest doesn't hurt anymore.

Eureka.
And today, my BP was 120/80.
I AM ALIVE AGAIN!

In celebration, I finally got myself that damn pedicure.
Awesome.
But if you see me running more than 3 errands in a day for the next week, please tell me to slow the hell down.
seeing the cute doctor is not worth the coma.

Year of Becca

The other day, my friend complimented me on my eye makeup. She really liked all the greens and purples and browns around my eyes.
Only one problem.
I wasn't wearing any makeup.
Well, at least I know I look hot when I am completely exhausted.
It's like getting a compliment on your hair when it's filthy. Awesome.

Well, that little gem reminded me of a promise I made to myself recently. Not in January, but whatever.
This is the YEAR OF BECCA!
DAMMIT!

Every couple of years, I notice that I may be in danger of slipping away from myself, so I grab those reigns and tug.

This is what I am doing to remind myself that every one in a while, I get to be first in line of priorities...

I am putting on perfume every day (when I remember). Just smelling like vanilla makes me feel a little more like me.

Chain reading. I will never be book-less. Therefore I will not stop reading for myself. Therefore I will not forget I have a brain in my cute little head.

I have three piercings in one ear. And I will wear earrings in every damn one of them. Again, strange and insignificant to you. Big deal to me.

I'm gettin back on that skate board. I know it's weird and not mom like at all. But, I like it, it keeps me active when the kids are active, and I feel like a ROCK STAR!

3 day (OK, maybe 2) day a week gym date.Whether or not the kids fuss about the kid's club. They will not die, and in the long run they will be happier when Mommy gets time to work out.

There will be chocolate sorbet in the freezer at all times.

Every Sunday morning, I sit down with my coffee and watch "Sunday Morning". It's relaxing, informative, and it reminds me of my dad. All good. And the kids hate it. Even better.

Pedicures whenever physically possible. I choose by OPI name. More important than color. If it makes me giggle, I'm good.

I will continue to try to get out with my friends more. Feel free to remind me.

I know, they aren't huge things, but when practiced consistently, they remind me that I am worthwhile, and pretty important to my family. So I'm going with it.

So, put yourself first too. See ya at the nail salon...

VICTORY!

My husband and Poppa are still out of town.
I am tired.
This weekend, the five days as the most sane person in the house was beginning to show.
Yes, I am as amused by that above statement as you are.

Grammy got a little extra pitiful while I was helping her throughout the day. At one point I had to tell her that the whining and negative attitude were not helping. And no, I will not make a fried egg sandwich with jelly on toast for breakfast. Not only do I not know how, but I can barely make a pot of coffee before 10am.
Then I felt a little guilty about that and bought her some chocolate.

And I swear, the constant "mommy" "Mommy!" "MOMMY!" was driving me nuts!

SydneyBeth had a friend sleep over, and though that did help keep everyone amused, and I finally got to sit down for more than ten minutes at a time (to fold laundry, of course) those little monsters managed to stay up til 1AM! CRAZY!

Today I took both kids to a party at the batting cages, which was great in theory, not so much in practice.
It was roughly 100 degrees in that (literally) stinking place, with no AC. And neither one of my kids actually wanted to hit anything. So that was fun. But they seems to be amused.

And tonight the only way I could arrange to spend a few minutes to soak my aching bones was to take a bath with the kids. Yes, I used three in one wacky watermelon hair and body wash, but I did spend 20 minutes in the tub with the jets on, so that's a victory, right?

Now, Sydney has finally fallen asleep on time. Jonny just told me loved me without asking for anything afterwards, and Jon and Poppa will be home in a couple of hours.

I made it!

I am getting a pedicure tomorrow to celebrate!
Right after grocery shopping and before pre-school pick up.
I hope.
Maybe not.

The Rug Doctor Kicked My Ass

My husband, Jon, and my father in law, Bob, are on a golf trip to South Carolina. For 6 days. That leaves me alone with the kids, the dogs, and my mother in law. For 6 days. Awesome.

Now, we get a nurse during the night for help with Grammy, who is wheelchair bound. So my job isn't impossible. But it's days like this that it's still REALLY FUCKING HARD.

Yesterday I decided to be a rock star. My sister was around to help with the kids, so I decided to clean the carpets. Last week, when I first came up with this genius idea, I discovered that my carpet cleaner was broken. I should have taken this as a sign from the Lord that I was not meant to clean carpets. But no.

I was a rock star.

So I went to the supermarket and rented the Rug Doctor. Those industrial sized carpet cleaners.
I hauled that mother back to the house and begin my mission.
The boys were gone, and they would come home to a beautiful home with wonderful kids, well fed dogs, and clean friggin carpets. Not the urine soaked mess those lazy bastards left in the first place, but that is another story.

Anyone know about the Rug Doctor? Those suckers work really well, but they weigh about as much as I do, and it takes about 4 gallons of water to fill and drain. And fill and drain.
And fill and drain.

So my sister is watching Jonny, chatting with Grammy, and I am beginning my mission. Hauling and pulling that big hummer around the family room. Slowly, because it works better. Twice. By the end of one room, I am sweating.

I take a little family time break to regain my breath and energy, and I move upstairs. I repeat this madness, and I get out all the evil dog and children related stains. Eureka!
It only took about 6 hours, breaks included, to do the whole damn house.

I was sweating like a whore in church, and my upper body was killing me from hauling that sucker up and down and all around the house. But dammit. I cleaned the carpets.
And they were spectacular.

And as an added bonus, the kids LOVED pretending that the Rug Doctor was chasing them from room to room.

BAM! Built in family fun.

I am a domestic Goddess.

Then I decide to do the family room again, just to make it gleaming, and it is.
I am so AWESOME.

I put the ginormous rug doctor in the trunk of the car, ready to return the thing to the store in the AM, hoping to never see it again. I cook us all a decent meal, it even had veggies, and we all tucked in for the night.

This morning, I get the little angels out of bed and stumble down the steps to make much needed coffee. When Daddy is gone. the game of Musical Beds can get a little complicated. Not much sleep for Mommy.

So I go downstairs to discover that one of the dogs has POOPED ALL OVER THE FAMILY ROOM CARPET! My pristine carpet that I shampooed with the equivalent of a Buick, three times.
Gross, runny, sticky poop.

I grumble myself outside to get the damned Rug Doctor out of the trunk, and here we go again.
I had to do two more passes with the Buick to get the crap out, literally.

So by 8:30 this morning I was sweating and smelled like carpet cleaner and poop. And I don't think I have any feeling left in my right arm.

Then Jon calls at 9am, from the golf course, just to check in on us and see how we're doing.
Poor bastard.
He found out all right.

I love when the boys have their quality time. They deserve it. And we end up having fun too.

But I am done with the rock star shit. And as soon as the boys come home I am taking myself OUT!
shopping.
a lot.

The PTA is Like the Mafia, and That's Not Necessarily a Bad Thing

No, PTA is not organized crime. We do a lot of good, make a HUGE different in the schools and community, and all the money stuff is transparent as we can make it, I swear. But the similarities are fun to think about when it gets a little nutty. Like how you just can't seem to leave. Did you know people can be lifetime members of the PTA? LIFETIME.

The below is my story, but it is meant to be funny. Work with me....
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Almost two years ago, I was a mild mannered suburban housewife.
OK, I was sort of mild mannered, for me. But I was a stay at home mom of two very young kids, eagerly and nervously anticipating my eldest child's enrollment in all-day kindergarten at the local, highly touted, public school. I got sucked in before she even entered the school.

Now, having a strong belief in local and grass root organizations, I have been a member of our neighborhood's civic association since roughly the day we moved in. And, if you have gathered anything about me, I am no shrinking violent. I am not just present, I am usually vocal and active.
So I was an active member of the civic association, and as such I was volunteering at the duck pond at the local fireman's carnival.

It all sounds innocent enough, doesn't it?

There I was, helping small children pick up plastic ducks in return for cheap prizes, when my friend and co civic association member asked me if I joined the PTA yet. She was Treasurer at the time. Part of the Mafia, but I didn't know it yet.

"Of course not, Syd isn't even in school yet"
"But you can help before she starts"

And there it was. You would think I would recognize the soft sell, but I didn't. Blinded by enthusiasm and hope of making the world a better place for my kid, I pledged my life away to the PTA right then and there, before Summer was even over. And now, two years later, I am a made woman. Treasurer. I handle the cash. Like the consigliore, kind of.

I didn't know it then, but I know now. The PTA is the MAFIA.
Once you get in, you cannot get out. Believe me. I tried. Twice so far.
But I keep getting sucked in. The kids. The cause. The Mission.
It does a lot of good, has a lot more political power than you think, and moves a ton of cash.
It keeps order, and makes sure than their own get taken care of.
And things get messy if you talk out of turn.
See? Mafia. I was not kidding.

But yeah, it's a good looking Mafia, and most of us don't pack heat. But I do really like cannoli.

Why Do People Lose Their Manners Around Pregnant Women?

My friend is due in 6 weeks.
Recently, while she was innocently waiting for an iced tea, a women first asked if she was having twins, then reminded her to be grateful for her position.
So, without saying anything to this women, she was suddenly ungrateful and fat.
Nice.

This reminded me of the two times I was pregnant. People did some stupid shit.
More often than not, strangers, or people I barely knew were trying to touch my belly.

Now, I am the kind of girl who normally doesn't like to get massages, because I don't like to be touched by strangers. I enjoy my personal space, thank you very much.

So naturally, when some random tried to touch my belly while I was hormonal, things were bound to get silly .

After one unwanted touch to the abdomen, I had an answer. When someone would make a move toward my belly, I would automatically move to touch theirs. Then, when they would recoil or ask me what the hell I was doing, like I was the weird one, all of a sudden they would remember to keep their hands to their DAMN selves.

So, I share my "touch the belly" maneuver with you. Hopefully it will help fix a little bit of stupid.

The World Really Doesn't Revolve Around Me, Really?

Every once in a while, not to often, I swear, my husband calls me COTU to put me in check.

Center of the Universe.

That's because sometimes, NOT ALWAYS, I forget there is a forest amongst all these trees. I forget the big picture. And sometimes, all I can see is my own reflection. I am working on that. And believe me, the kids help. Plus, I want to save the world in general, so I really am not THAT vain.

Says the girl who writes her own blog.

OK, so you see the point.

So, after a week of dealing with gossip, here say and general junior high bullshit, I decided not to run for Treasurer of the PTA for next year. NOT QUITTING, just not running again.

I wrote a cute little not, kind of naming the reasons, and left it at that. I am a lot of things, subtle ain't one of them. So there you go.

Now I really know this isn't the end of the world. Life will go on. So will the PTA. But I had a bunch of crap to deal with and I am doing one hell of a job. So where are the protests?
Where is the picket line in front of my door, demanding me to run again?
Where is the candle light vigil?
Really, is it too much to ask?

This under appreciated crap is overrated.

But today the principal found out (I removed myself from the ballot a week ago. Damn that email system) and wants to meet with me and convince me to run again.

Finally!

Trampolines are the Devil

We live in an awesome area, on a great street, tucked far away enough from everyone else. Well, most everyone else.

The front of our house only overlooks one family's backyard. And lucky for me. This family have TWO teenage girls.
Cheerleaders.
And they own a big fucking TRAMPOLINE!

That's right. those contraptions of fun and death all rolled into one. Yup.

So my darling princess SydneyBeth, who is six, wants nothing more than to play with the big girls and be a cheerleader and do flips on that thing wearing pink shorty shorts with letters on the bum.

Ain't gonna happen.

I let her jump with the big girls once a week, and I watch like a hawk.
But, the big consolation is that I said Princess could take trampoline classes if she really wanted to.

This was a couple of weeks ago. I was hoping she would forget, like lots of other whims.
No dice. CONSTANT nagging.
"When do I start trampoline classes?"
"Soon, punkin"

So I finally started to call around to gyms. Now, Princess is already in art and gymnastics (no tramp) during the week and swimming on Saturdays, so this has to fit the schedule. Of course the gym with a tramp NEAR MY FLIPPIN HOUSE is full. The only other place is about 30 minutes away, but I will do it for happiness, physical fitness, and distance from the scary backyard trampoline. And cheerleaders. For now.

And no, I will not buy my own, yet. Aside from the fact that Jonny is 4, has no fear, and will certainly get MORE scars and lose MORE teeth if I bought that thing, big fat trampolines with the big metal poles and the net around them smack to me a little of "Whiskey Tango". When I was a kid we had an above ground pool, so needless to say I am trying to run from my WT past.

Trampoline class starts Monday. Have to pick up Princess from school to get there on time. With Jonny in tow, this should be interesting. Stay tuned....

Dancing With The Stars is a Teachable Moment

We haven't watched DWTS for 2 seasons, but tonight, SB and I fell right back into our favorite game.

It's called, "What's Missing?"
SB gets a piece of paper and starts to make a list for each couple. What body parts are NOT covered by their outfits, that should be.
Back, arm, leg, tummy, chest. Yup.

There was one outfit that I swear was just a lot of tape and a scarf.
SB had to use two lines for that one, then she says, "I hope that girl is wearing panties, because no one wants to see her privates."
That's my girl.

Then there was a heated discussion over whether or not one girl's boobs were going to fall out. That was when I had to explain double stick tape. Sydney Beth was appropriately horrified, and declared she would never wear anything that had to be stuck to her because she wouldn't be able to change outfits.

Again, I could not be prouder.
Love her, love this job. Love those moments.
And yes, I am working on getting all of this in writing.

You Can't Take Me Anywhere

Last week, I was on a plane bound for home, at 7:30 in the morning.

Another small word about me. There is something in my internal clock that makes me EXTREMELY UNPLEASANT before 10am. I can function, I'm just not very happy about it.

So, I was sitting on the plane,waiting for it to take off, and all of a sudden my seat starts thumping.
There is a kid behind me, about 9 or 10, old enough to know better, and he is slamming his foot into my seat. Like 10 times in a row, he is kicking.

I wait to hear his parents scold him. Nothing. Kick Kick Kick. Thump Thump Thump.
Fuck! We haven't even taken off yet.

Have I mentioned it was early in the morning?

So I turned around in my seat and stared at the kid.
"Hi, I'm Becca. How are you?"
silence.
"Look kid, I am sitting right in front of you on this plane, so if you kick my seat again, I am going to lean my seat back so I'm sitting in your lap, and you will be very uncomfortable. Deal?"
"I'm going to take a nap now."

And that was the end of the kicking.
I gave the kid a thumbs up on the way off the plane, and I was much happier when we landed.
It was 10:25 am.

My Life Doesn't Suck

So today is a beautiful day out. The pollen or humidity is not killing me yet. No gluten to bring me down. Awesome.

Jonny and I had a hot date at the movie theater watching "How to Train Your Dragon". again.
Sydney and Jon are having their own quality time. More about that sometime soon. Jon is obsessed with tropical fish, and now my darling daughter is too.

Anyway, on the way home from the movies, we stopped at a gas station car wash. Jonny was mesmorized.
"what a great adventure, mom"

Loved it! Then we drove down a side road covered with tress, leaves peekign out, looking for the sun.

My only complaint was that I had to wear strategically ripped jeans today, so my scrapes from my skateboarding incident didn't rub against the demin.
Then it hit me. My life is pretty cool.

I get to hang out with my kids, watch them get cooler. I have a great husband who indulges me, which is always good. And he thinks I'm FANTASTIC, which is always a bonus.

And my worst complaint is that I have a skateboarding injury!
I get to skateboard with my kids!
And Jon is going to supe up my board for me with bigger wheels. The better not to get stopped on a pebble in the driveway.

Yup, my life does not suck.

Except that I just made some chicken tikka masala for lunch, and Jonny stole it. He is an adventurous eater. Also, not sucking, but I have to make more lunch.

Why There Will Be Curse Words on This Blog

My daughter is a genius.

I tend to swear like a longshoreman from time to time. One day, on the way to the car from the front door, I hit my leg, and let out a "Shit!"
"Sorry Syd, mommy said a bad word"
"What did you say, mom?"
"I said shit, it's a bad word"
"What does shit mean, mom?"
"It's like a bad word for poop"
"Mom, that is not a bad word. "Stupid" is a bad word, because it hurts people's feelings. "Idiot" and "dummy" are also bad words. "poop" does not hurt anyone's feelings, so it can't be bad."

"Sydney, you are a genius. You're right. Words that hurt people's feelings are bad and should definitely not be said"

"No problem mom"

She's six.
No shit.

Emergency Check?

Yup, and this is not the first time.

Why on earth does the PTA need emergency checks? What in the name of the PTA is such a friggin crisis? This time, minor league baseball. Seriously.

One of the PTA committees needs more money, and they need it NOW.
Planning is for suckers, apparently. And deadlines.

And yes, all of a sudden this becomes an emergency for ME.
Super.

No worries. I can get the check it's two signatories lickety split, Jonny in tow, of course. And he gets prizes for being an awesome sport, naturally.

As long as this doesn't mess up my hot date with Jon. Hot night with a movie and a burrito bowl. I will be wearing sweatpants, because the skateboard gash on my knee is killing me!
I am sooo fabulous.

Seriously, I fell off my skateboard.

I blame the children.
I was on my skateboard, they were on either side of me, holding my hands and pulling me down the driveway. We had done this before, I swear.
My skateboard hit a rock on the driveway, and I went flying. The kids were holding my hands, so I couldn't jump off or brace myself, so I fell FLAT ON MY FACE.
I busted up my knees and my elbow, I fell so hard on my face that I broke my glasses, in half!
My lips are a mess. I busted them both up pretty bad, and i have an awesome gash/ abrasion between my nose and lip.
At least I was wearing a helmet and gloves. I don't think I'd have a nose.
My pride is severely wounded though.
I look like I had really bad collagen.
And what PTA/ preschool mom is going to believe I fell off my skateboard? Fuck.

Cardinal With a Death Wish

Every friggin Spring this bird is back.

We have one or two cardinals (the bird, not the religious figure) that live in our Holly bushes. That would be wonderful, except for that they are SUICIDAL! Seriously.

Last year, they kept flying into the windows of our house. hard.

So I put up pictures of other animals in the windows. Disgruntled cats, menacing squirrels. Nothing.

Then I put up photos of the kids everywhere. Nothing.

It subsided for a while, then thump thump thump. grr.

This year, as soon as the weather got nice. Thump.

Dammit!

I went online, and found something called scare tape. It's reflective tape (really like fancy streamers) that farmers are supposed to used to scare birds from crops.

I twisted it all around my windows, which now look very festive.

It lasted ONE FRIKKIN day.

As I write, that damned cardinal is going through the festive iridescent tape to thump himself into the windows.

I wish these bastards would give themselves amnesia already and go to another house.

Geesh. And no, I do not want to put up movable, hotting, eyes glaring owl decoys in the front of my house. That would scare the crap out of me and the kids, and our guests.

Oh, and Jonny is on his 53rd viewing of Strawberry Shortcake in the Land of Dreams, and Sydney Beth had crafted a "water slide" of onion dip for her veggies. genius.

The Great Chocolate Schism.

Ok, so a little about me. I am the treasurer of the Urbana Elementary School PTA. Yeah, it's a volunteer position, but as a PTA, we go through about 60 grand a year, and we make all that money through fundraisers.

I HATE frikkin fundraisers. Love hate really, but you get the drift.

We are at the end of a World's finest Chocolate fundraiser, and I am pretty sure it was the topic for Dante's Inferno.

When we got the flippin chocolate in March (Feb? It's all a blur). We had two huge pallets of almost 500 cases each. Well, one case arrived to our door, REEKING of brake fluid. No joke. The trucking company spilled TOXIC fluid all over our candy, and just dropped it off, hoping we wouldn't notice the stench. Well, we did, called the sales guy, he called the company, they told us it was an ACT OF GOD.

That's right, Act of God. Well, as far as I know, God does not have much to do with brake fluid, jackass.

This is about the time when I got involved. You see, I do not fear conflict. In fact, I am pretty good at it. Most of the ladies in the PTA are wonderfully nice, sweet even, civilized, and relatively conflict free. Not this girl. No one has ever called me sweet. Ever. Plus, I handle the cash; I was not paying for this crap, and I wanted a bigger profit for the PTA for selling all the non poisonous candy while we were at it.

So I get to the school, and the lady in charge of the fundraising committee (yeah, we are so cool we have committees) was STILL trying to get in touch with our sales guy.
I came in, took the phone and hung it up. Screw that guy, we are going to the top. So I called the home office, talked to the gal in charge, told her how it was going down, and by the way how could she make it up to us. A few days later I was still trying to iron things out, so I ended up talking to her boss, and ended up getting a little more, a whole lot faster. It didn't hurt that the home office is in Chicago, where I was born and raised, so I think the dude was used to handling direct women. And I speak fluent Chicago sports, which is always a plus.

So, in short, I get stuff done.
Now this crap is OVER, and we found another mess up. A bunch of cases of candy have the wrong labels, not our PTA, and have to be picked up and go back. NOTHING TO DO WITH MONEY. But, because this may actually mean a little more conflict, people think I need to organize and coordinate a truck coming to the school.

No No No, my sisters. I am the money lady, and the negotiator, I am not the fall back for everything chocolate. Because I make calls, and ask questions, and get different prices, that does not make me the contact. That makes me an awesome treasurer!

Jesus Mary and Joseph!

OK, enough venting for now. And by the way, I have 2 cases of perfectly edible chocolate in my spare room. It's never going to end!

Almost Super

A while ago, I answered an email casting call for "supermoms". The email, which a friend sent me, convinced it would be AWESOME, was for a mom of an elementary kid, who is super active in PTA and other activities. I am, so what the heck? I'm not a shy gal, and I think I'm funny when provoked, so I gave it a shot. I got an email back, then a phone call, then was asked to send in a tape, then nothing. I am very glad I never got my own show. I couldn't handle it, nor could my awesome, but private husband. So, I figured, this is perfect.

And, being in the PTA, leader of the Frontier girls, and mom of a 4 and 6 year old is extremely entertaining, so enjoy. Besides, I definitely think my life is SUPER!