Monday, March 31, 2008

My Disassociative Identity

Every time I leave the security of my home, and venture out into public, I take on a new persona. A disassociative identity, if you will. I am no longer a busy mom of 5, career woman, and full time college student. When I leave the house, I become...

The Hair Police.

I can spot a home dye job a mile away. In fact, I walk down the home hair color isle just to watch people try to pick out their own hair color...that's some funny shit right there! Come on, people, do you honestly think that just because the color on the box says 'light ash blonde' that it is going to turn your jet black hair that color? Common sense, people, common sense! Go ahead and dump that color on your head...then you can pay me twice as much to correct it when you end up looking like Ronald McDonald.

I also can't help but to critique every hair cut I see. Not to blow my own horn, but I can cut one mean inverted bob. That is one cut that is easy to screw up, and most of the ones that I see are a hot mess! If I am in a situation where I have to look at someone's screwed up hair cut for too long, I will actually start to envision how I would fix the cut.

This disassociative identity of mine drives my kids crazy. Not so much because I am always pointing out bad hair and making semi-rude comments about the hair, but more because I have rubbed off on my kids. Yes, they are Deputy Hair Police! They, too, will point out the folliclely challanged. They will spout off with comments like,

"Why would anyone walk around with their roots grown clear down to their ears?!"

It's almost like a type of schitzophrenia. I can't ignore the little voices in my head that say,

"Holy crap, look at her jacked up highlight!"

I try to ignore them...but they won't go away...I think I need medication...I've been like this for almost 20 years now...I want the voices to stop!

OK, so maybe they aren't real voices. Maybe I just can't leave work at work. Maybe I just live in a town full of inept hair designers; some who actually think the mullet is still in style.

Or maybe I just want to save Springfield, one bad 'do at a time!

Sunday, March 30, 2008

From the Mind of Ella Belle

You know how kids have a unique way of expressing what they are trying to say? My kids are no different. Ella-Belle and I had the following conversation this afternoon:

Ella-Belle: "Mommy, my foot hurts, bad!"
Me: "Where's it hurt, Belle?"
Ella-Belle: "It hurts when I try to lift it up."
Me: "Did you step on something?"
Ella-Belle: "Nooo! It's going 'THHHH'."
Me: "It's doing what?!"
Ella-Belle: "My foot, it keeps doing this, 'THHHHH'!"
Me: "OH! Ella-Belle, your foot is asleep!"
Ella-Belle: "Well how do I wake it up???"

Ok, I admit, I am laughing to hard to even try to think of an answer for that! I just gave her a big ole hug and that seemed to cure her affliction:)

(If you are having trouble deciphering 'THHHH', stick your tounge between your teeth and make the 'th' sound in the word 'there'.)

Wednesday, March 26, 2008

Excuse me, Sir, You have a little something on your lip...

Ok, so I went Krogering this afternoon.

I always see a few things while in the store that make me giggle, or make me gasp.

Today, I saw something I have never seen in my entire 30some years.

I was in the frozen food isle, scoping out the veggie sale stickers, when I saw it...I had to do a double take. There, right next to the frozen corn section, stood an older gentleman. He looked normal at first glance. Then, I spotted the anomaly.

At first, I thought to myself, "Wow! He really has a pencil thin moustache..."

Then, I looked a little closer.

This man had literally DRAWN on his moustache with an eyeliner pencil. I couldn't help but to stare in awe and ask myself, "Why?!"

I mean, what if his lip got sweaty? Wouldn't it rub off, or at least smudge? What if he kissed his wife? I shudder to think of the mess that would make.

I am a firm believer in "To each his own" but this is probably the strangest thing I have ever seen...

Monday, March 24, 2008

Karma Sutra and Strawberry Body Dust

Sounds like fun, doesn't it?

Let me set the scene for ya...

Easter Sunday at my parent's house. My oldest brother, his wife, and 5 kids are there. My youngest brother is there with his girlfriend. My sister and both my parents are there. I was there with all 5 of my kids. My oldest son has a bedroom at their house where he occasionally sleeps. This room used to belong to my sister. She is 33 and just moved out about 6 months ago, but still has lots of her crap there. He has his TV, Playstation 3, and the rest of his electronic equiptment in there. It looks like a normal teenager's room...clothes on the floor and piled up on the's what else was on the dresser that caught everyone off-guard.

Karma Sutra for Lovers and Strawberry Body Dust.

It was a tiny little book, and a tiny little jar of body dust.

So now the big it my sister's, or my 17 year old son's?

Well, my sister swears it isn't hers.

I am in denial that it actually belongs to my son. I just don't think 17 year old boys are in to that kind of thing;)

Wednesday, March 19, 2008

O'Charley's...Yummm!!! Next Time, Leave Ella-Belle at Home!

Who doesn't love O'Charley's? Those warm, soft, buttery rolls...yummm...I could make a meal on just those!
Valerie and I decided to go there for dinner after she was done with her OGT make-up test today. I had picked up Owen and Ella-Belle at pre-school, so they were joining us for dinner. They wanted McDonald's.
I should have listened to them!
The restaurant wasn't very crowded, but the hostess sat us at the round table way, way, way in the back corner. Valerie and I started looking at our menus and Owen started coloring on his. Ella-Belle yelled, loud enough for everyone in the place to hear,
"Mommy, I have to PEE!"
Wonderful. Of coarse we are as far from the restroom as we could possibly be. So I tell Valerie our drink orders, and off to the restroom we go!
Now, Ella-Belle can't just pick a toilet and use it. Ella-Belle has to look in every stall and point out it's flaws. One might still have pee in it, and for some reason, flushing it doesn't matter to her. One will have too much toilet paper, one won't have enough. Sooner or later she will pick a stall, and lock me out of it. She doesn't seem to care about toilet seat germs- and I can't win an argument with her...after all, she is almost 4!
So, she finally peed, and then we argued over whether or not she needed to wash her hands before or after she could get a mint out of the bowl on the sink.
(Why are there mints in a bowl on the sink in the bathroom?)
We made our way back to the table, where our drinks were waiting on us. We decided what we wanted to eat, and then ordered. And then the best part of the meal...
The warm, soft, buttery rolls!
Ella-Belle ate 2 of them, and Owen ate 1 (no comment on me). Our food arrived, and we all dug in. About 5 minutes into our meal, Owen chimed in,
"Mommy, I need to go potty..."
Grrrreatttt! OK, fine. I'm used to eating cold food anyway. All of a sudden, Ella-Belle decides she has to go again, too. I knew she didn't need to go again, so I made her stay at the table and eat, because the only thing worse than taking her to the bathroom, is taking her and Owen to the bathroom together.
Owen did his business without incident, other than he crawled out from under the bathroom door. I told him to get back in there and unlock the door, and he just giggled and push the door open and said,
"Ha, Ha! I tricked-ed you!"
We made our way back to the table, again. Ella-Belle is mad. I told her to eat her food and stop whining. So what does she do? She does what any normal child would do...
She peed on the chair!
And then, she laughed about it.
So how glad am I that we are sitting in the corner, away from everyone else??? We hurried up and got boxes for our food and high-tailed it outta there (I did clean the chair). I took her home, threw her in the bathtub (not literally) and told her she had to go to bed. That was at 7:00, it's now 10:30 and she's laying in my bed watching TV. I think I need to be more assertive:)

Sunday, March 16, 2008

Yuck Mouth

You ever wonder how many people get free medical care from the government every year? I am working on my degree in Social Services and Chemical Dependency, so I have occasion to frequent my local Department of Job and Family Services. I see a variety of people in this office every time I go in there. One benefit that the majority of them receive in common is free medical care. If you get a medical card, you get free vision, dental, and doctor care (among other things).

That leaves me with this question for a lot of these people I see:

Why the hell are you walking around with rotten teeth???

I mean, come on people! There are millions of middle class people with no health insurance that would give their left arm to have dental insurance! I just don't get it...That medical card will even pay for braces! I have about $10,000 wrapped up in my 2 teenager's smiles-that came out of my pocket. All I can do is sigh, and shake my head in disbelief.

Friday, March 14, 2008

Ask a Stupid Question...

My 17 year old son, Dustyn, hurt his foot playing football yesterday. This morning, I took him to the doctor to have it checked out. We were about 20 minutes late (NOT my fault! That's another post in itself!) so we had to wait for a little while to be seen.

The doctor decided Dustyn needed an X-ray. I knew that I had an opening until 2:00 at work, so I thought everything would be O.K. to take him to get the X-ray. I called work, just to double check, and low and behold I had a 12:00 appointment. Well, since it was 11:57, I figured I better haul ass to work.

On the way I called the X-ray center and asked if Dustyn could come by himself to get the X-ray since he's not quite 18 yet (see ticker at the bottom of this page). The woman on the phone said this to me,

"Are you giving us your verbal consent to X-ray him without you being here?"

Ummmm....let me think about that one for a minute....why else would I ask if he could come by himself if I wasn't consenting to it? I wonder what she would have said if I had told her "No."?

I hate stupid questions...

Tuesday, March 11, 2008

The Question for All Genders...

Today was one of those days at pre-school that Owen was soooo looking forward to- it was sledding day!

Owen absolutely loves to go sledding. I mean, how many 5 year olds do you know that have their very own personal Siberian Husky dog sledding team? We have 10 Huskies, and they love to run sleds, and Owen loves to go dog sledding.

Unfortunatly, dog sledding is not allowed at pre-school.

Anyway, I was getting Owen dressed for his sledding adventure this morning when he said something that I thought only females said.

I was putting a new pair of snow pants on him. I had originally bought these pants for next year, but I couldn't find the ones he had been wearing this year (big surprize! I have the most ginormous laundry pile on the face of this earth!). They were a little large, but they had adjustable waistbands, so I knew I could make them work. Owen hopped in his new snow pants, gave himself the once-over, and said,

"Do you think these make my butt look big or something?"

Sunday, March 9, 2008

Ummm, Hmmm...Let me get back to you on that one...

"Mommy, do spiders have noses?"

Would anyone with the correct answer, please, let me know!

Wednesday, March 5, 2008

The Beast is Back!

Softball season has arrived! This weekend kicks off our season with an indoor tournament in Indianapolis. This will be my daughter's 3rd year playing travel softball, and her 7th year playing regular softball.

Sophie has always been a great little player. This isn't just coming from a proud parent! She was that kindergartener that amazed everyone by playing 1st and 3rd base; she never played the outfield.

She is 11 years old, and her goal is to play college softball. I'm all for that!

She just started weight lifting, and she's already benching 80lbs-2 sets of 10. That's more than I can do:( She has been catching full time for that last year. It is amazing how much muscle she has built up in her legs, glutes, and arms. I guess anyone doing about 1000 squats a day would build up those glutes!

She has arms of steal! Last season, she had 25 throw-out at second base. She can hit like a beast, too. Actually, her nickname on her team is "Beast" because she is a beast with her bat. She hit 2 home runs last season, and they were both grand slams! One was infield, and the other one went 35 feet over the fence, for a total of 205 feet. That was such a neet thing to see. Her coach was jumping up and down. He high-fived her as she rounded third base, and her entire team was lined up at home plate to high-five her as she came in. She was beeming, as was I!

But best of all...she is modest. The last game of the season she was awarded a plaque for sportsmanship. She was chosen, by the umpires, from a total of about 80 girls. She doesn't rub it in to the other girls about how good she least I better never catch her! She looks at her mistakes as a learning experience, and tries to grow from them; she never cries during a game.

Her motto? "Why would I cry? It's just a game! I just want to play softball!"

Saturday, March 1, 2008

Definition of a Dimwit

n. Slang
A stupid person.

Owen has decided that Ella-Belle is a dimwit.

I think dimwit is one of those words that kids are taught at preschool; at least mine were. Dimwit, and the phrase "Oh baby, sweet momma!"

Even thought I am a pretty laid back type of mom, I don't like my kids to call each other names. Sure, I laughed the first couple of times they said it. What parent wouldn't? The other day I had finally had enough. Ella-Belle isn't the one using the word; Owen always calls her a dimwit. This was our conversation:

Ella-Belle: "Mommy, Owen keeps calling me a dimwit!"
Me: "Owen, it is not nice to call people names. Dimwit is not a nice name, now stop calling her that!"
Owen: "But Mommy! Ella is a dimwit!"
Me: "Owen, she is not a dimwit."
Ella-Belle: "I am not a dimwit, Owen!"
Owen: "Yes she is! You know why she's a dimwit? She's a dimwit cause whenever I turn on that fan thing in your bedroom (ceiling fan) and it goes like this (he moves his hand back and forth) Ella thinks it's going to fall on her head and it's not! That's why she's a dimwit!"
Me: "Owen Wesley, that is still no reason to call your sister a dimwit! Now if I hear you do it again, you are going to stand in the corner."
Owen: "HUMPH!" (stomps off to his room)

Later that night....

I was on the computer doing homework and Ella-Belle was drawing a picture for

Ella-Belle: "Mommy, look at the pretty picture I drew!" (abstract person-animal like figure, brightly colored)
Me: "That's beautiful, Ella-Belle! What is it?"
Ella-Belle: "It's a dimwit."

I give up!