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....
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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!