Monday, August 24, 2009

Think Of Me While I'm Curled Up In A Corner In The Fetal Position On Wednesday


I am a nervous wreck. Owen starts the 1st grade on Wednesday. I will be putting him on the bus his first day. His first day at his new school in a new district; a school where he knows no one. The bus will take him the 9/10ths of a mile to school, where it will drop him off at the double doors.


This is where I start to panic.

How will he know where to go?
Will he get lost in the shuffle of all the other elementary school kids?
Will he take a wrong turn and end up in the girl’s restroom?
Will he walk up the steps and be totally lost among the 3rd and 4th graders?
Will he just stand there at the doors and cry?


If I think about it too much I get nauseous.

We went to open house tonight. This is the second time we have been in the school. We went last week for the new student orientation and we saw his new classroom. We walked in the school tonight, and Owen walked straight to his classroom.


We walked in the doors and turned right


…then we walked down the hall and turned left


…then we walked down another hall and turned right


…then we walked down another hall and turned left


…then we walked through the hallway going through all three 2nd grade classrooms


...then two 1st grade classrooms before finally coming to his classroom.


Excuse me whilst I vomit.

**wipes puke spew off chest**

I can’t even make myself feel better knowing that every other 1st grader will be new to this school too. I asked Owen if he wanted me to take him to school the first few days, and he said, “But I want to ride the bus!” And he led me to his classroom very confidently tonight.


He isn’t the least bit nervous, so why am I?

Sunday, August 23, 2009

I Am The Most Inconsiderate Mother Ever


Dear Valerie,


I guess I owe you an apology.


It was very selfish of me to (finally) hang curtains in the living room; but I am tired of the neighbors seeing me walk around the house in my bra and underwear every morning. It was also very selfish of me to rearrange the living room after I finished (finally) hanging said curtains. I just don’t know where my mind was when I did not ask your permission to do this, seeing as how by moving the TV, I would have to unplug the wireless internet for 5 whole minutes. I apologize for having the audacity to interrupt your YoVille game. I know you can’t stop playing that game for longer than a bathroom break, so I really overstepped my bounds by interrupting your internet service. I feel bad that, because I moved the wireless router and modem, you are not getting a fast enough connection out in the garage, where you spend your days and nights playing on YoVille. I’m sorry that I upset you so much that you had to storm into the house, scream (your veins were popping out of your neck) at the router and shake it to try to get more bars so you could get a faster connection. And I totally agree that you had every right to demand that Sophie let you see her brand new laptop to see how fast her connection was. How dare she refuse to tell you her password?


I guess I also need to apologize for buying Sophie a laptop for her birthday; I should have asked if it was okay with you first. You informed me that you hate your laptop (remember, the one you HAD to have?) and it’s a POS. Just so you know, Sophie’s was $200 CHEAPER than the one I bought you for your birthday this year. I know, I know…she still should not have a newer one than you.


I’m sorry, I will never be so inconsiderate of your feelings again.


Love,


Mommy Dearest

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

My Blog Is 100 Posts Old Today

Today is my 100th blog post (its about damn time! I've only been blogging since Feb. of 2008!). I have to admit, I still have no clue how to blog! I'm just now getting down the bloggy lingo (seriously, I had to look up 'snarky' on Urban Dictionary). I was trying to do a "100 Things About Me" post for today, but I got to #25 and got bored, so I scrapped it. While I was doing my evening blog-hopping, I decided I would snag something Piper posted today, since she posted it with the following disclaimer:

If you would like to snag this good stuff for a post of your own, please feel free. I snagged it from RealWorldMom.

So, since I couldn't come up with 100 things about me (damn, I'm boring!) I decided to answer these questions instead:




I am...A mommy, a daughter, a sister, a hair designer, a student, a sounding board, a friend.

I have... Hopes, dreams, gas at the most inopportune times.

I know...How to neatly mud drywall.

I think...My life is headed in the right direction for the first time in my life.

I don’t think...I will ever grow tired of watching re-runs of The Golden Girls.

I want...To marry Tim and live happily ever after.

I have...An addiction to Facebook. And texting.

I like...Having wonderful people in my life.

I dislike...My older kid’s actions.

I hate...The smell of Matrix Sleek Look hair products.

I dream...Some crazy shit!

I fear...That my kids will grow up to be like their dad.

I am annoyed...By the sound of people chewing.

I crave...Tim.

I usually...Sleep too late and go to work with wet hair and no make-up.

I search...For Owen and Ella’s shoes. Every. Single. Day.

I hide...From confrontation.

I wonder...If my kids will be dependent on me forever.

I just can’t help...Falling in love…with…you. (Yes, sing it!)

I regret...Not saving more money.

I love...My kids, my family, Tim, my job, school, and my life.

I can’t live without...My Blackberry!

I try...To be a good person, parent, and friend.

I enjoy...Eating. Way too much.

I don’t care...If my house is a mess. Or anything that has to do with politics. Or basketball.

I always...Lock doors, like in an OCD kind of way.

I never want to...Bury one of my children.

I rely on...My parents.

I believe...In only having one true love.

I dance...Only when shitfaced.

I sing...In the car.

I argue...With myself.

I write...When I have time, though I have trouble conveying my thoughts into words.

I win...Every time a client tells me how fabulous I am.

I lose...My train of thought a lot.

I wish...I could lose a bunch of weight. But, if I did that, then I would have a bunch of sagging nasty skin.

I listen...Very closely since I am damn near deaf in one ear.

I don’t understand…People who have medical/dental coverage and rotten teeth.

I’m scared of...Growing old alone. Or with 27 cats.

I forget...To pay the trash and water bill all the damn time.

I am happy...For the first time in my life.

For my 100th post, I also want to recognize my top 10 favorite blogs to read. Here they are, in no particular order:

The very 1st blog I ever read
This guy and his offspring ROCK!!!
Canada will never be the same
Mr. Lady's (tall) twin sister
ratfucksonofabitch!!!
Pee-your-pants funny!!!
Beautiful writing by a beautiful chic
Mullettville, watch out!
She's been known to drink ants
Random shots of chocolate
Go visit them and give them some love!

Sunday, August 16, 2009

Real Friends Don't Let Friends Get Homemade Tattoos From Other Friends, And Other Random Thoughts

Aparently, Dustyn doesn't have any REAL friends.....

Go here to read the full story of this tragedy.

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Softball season is finally over! For a while, I am sure she's not going to miss wearing this:
But I don't know if I am ready for her 8th grade school year to start, because I know I will be seeing her like this:
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One of my teenagers is in the kitchen doing the dishes. BY. HAND. I wonder what they did wrong, or how much money they want?
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Ella doesn't sleep at night. She's driving me crazy. She is not going to be fun next week when school starts!
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The kids and I went to see G-FORCE 3D last weekend. I did not see anything warranting that movie to be 3D. What a waste of money!!!
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I got a new book today and it is AWESOME!!! Its called Such a Pretty Fat by Jen Lancaster.
I can't wait to read her other books Bright Lights, Big Ass, Bitter is the New Black, and Pretty in Plaid.
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**UPDATE**
Sophie was doing the dishes. She doesn't get in trouble or ask for money. Should I call 911? I think she may be deathly ill!
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This is my 99th post! I'm working on my '100 things' post. Try to hold your enthusiasm!

Saturday, August 8, 2009

Responsibilities

I went to a viewing this past Tuesday. I went to pay my respects to my Aunt Connie. She wasn’t really my aunt; she was the ex-wife of one of my dad’s brothers. They divorced over 33 years ago, and had both remarried. I come from a very strict Catholic family; out of my dad’s 9 brothers and sisters, they were the only ones who ever divorced. All of my extended family lives in Indiana; we moved to Ohio when I was 11. My dad was transferred here for work. My Aunt Connie and her new husband were also transferred here with the same company. My cousin Lisa moved here to live with her mom and step-dad; her brother stayed in Indiana with their dad. Lisa and I are the same age. We went through 8 years of grade school together. We shared our high school graduation parties. She is little and blonde and beautiful and I have always been jealous of her. As adults, we rarely talk.

She and her mom were very close. It pained me to see the hurt and loss in her eyes at the funeral home. Her mom’s illness had come on very suddenly; she only lived for 7 weeks after her cancer diagnosis. Lisa and I hugged, and she kept telling me, “She looks so good. I can’t believe how good she looks!” I agreed with her that her mom did look very nice. She looked very peaceful. (I didn’t pay much attention to the outfit she was wearing, but it was later told to me that she and her husband were both wearing their wedding clothes. The very same wedding clothes they wore 30 years ago. It gives me goose bumps just to think about it.) Lisa said, “No seriously, you don’t understand. You have to look at this.” She took me to a photo album that was lying in front of a collage of memories of her mom. The pictures she showed me broke my heart. They were pictures of Lisa curled up in bed with her mom. They were facing each other and smiling. The love they have for each other was radiating from the pictures. These pictures were taken the last week of her mom’s life. She looked emaciated; nothing like the beautiful woman in the casket. I totally understood then what she meant.

I stood next to Lisa as she spoke with her mom’s co-workers and friends. My heart broke for Lisa even more when I overheard her tell people that her mom didn’t know she was going to die. Lisa explained that her mom told her step-dad that, if she was given a time limit, she didn’t want to know. They respected her wishes and didn’t tell her that the doctors sent her home to die; the chemotherapy wasn’t working and there was nothing more that could be done. She thought she was going in for chemotherapy on Monday. She didn’t live to see Monday; she died the Saturday before. Lisa said that the worst part of not telling her mom the truth was that there were so many things left unsaid. So many things she wanted to say to her, so many questions she wanted to ask. The sound of her saying that keeps echoing in my head.

I left the funeral home feeling uneasy. I could not stop thinking about my own mom. I love my mom dearly, but we are not close. I can’t imagine curling up in bed with my mom the way Lisa was with hers. That really bothers me. The only memory I have of any “special” time between my mom and I was during the summer when I was about 10 years old. It didn’t happen every night, but once a week or so I remember these times. My brothers and sister would all go to bed, and I would stay up with my mom until after the news and watch M*A*S*H with her. She would let me have a bottle of Pepsi and share potato chips out of a Tupperware container. I think of that every time M*A*S*H is on TV, or even mentioned. I think my mom still has that Tupperware container.

I can’t remember the last time my parents told me that they loved me. I can’t remember a time when we ever hugged, even as a child. I notice that I have a hard time showing affection to my own kids as they get older. I don’t want to continue on the same path and have my children write a similar blog post about me someday. I do spend a lot of time interacting with my kids, but I know that’s not enough.

My parent’s health is not the best. They are moving slower and slower. My mom has a pacemaker; they are both diabetic and have high blood pressure. I don’t even know how to broach the subject of their wishes with them. One time, I asked my mom why my dad was taking a certain medication, and her answer was, “Just keep your nose out of there. It’s none of your business.”

I think it should be my business. I am the oldest. I know that my siblings won’t be jumping in line to help out when the time comes to make decisions for our parents. I have no idea if they have a will, life insurance, burial plot preference or even in what state (Indiana or Ohio) they want to be laid to rest! Even if I did know what state, I still don’t know which cemetery.

Thinking about any of this makes me sick to my stomach, but what makes the sickest is that I don’t have that special bond with my mom.