Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Your GREAT gift was received 2 weeks ago. I apologize with all my heart for not posting pictures immediately upon arrival. The note cards are FABULOUS and the gift card to SONIC will be used daily for my addiction. The SPREES and TWIZZLERS, which are some of my favorite candy, were eaten by my perfect grandchildren because their mother, my not-so-perfect daughter, bribed them with it to be good at the grocery store without my knowledge.
My camera is gone, probably also used a bribe by my children who think my stuff is theirs. So I am unable to post cute pictures of me holding my wonderful gift and smiling my cheesey smile. Which, btw is a shame because in just a month I am now down to a triple zero and weigh 100 pounds, 30 of that being my boobs which magically grew to like a size GG....honest injun. But since I can't prove it with pictures, you will just have to trust me that I am so not lying just to get a laugh. I would never do that.....
Okay really, THANK YOU so very much for my gift. I LOVE it!!!!!
Sunday, October 25, 2009
We celebrated Homecoming at the Nursing Home this week.
Crowned Homecoming King and Queen
Drank near-beer (O'Dool's).
(Sorry no pix from the nursing home...ya know, legal issues about permission and blah blah blah. College kids are dumb and don't care if their picture is out there.)
We celebrated Homecoming at my son's college this weekend.
Crowned Homecoming King and Queen
Drank REAL beer.
The DIFFERENCE between the crowds:
60 year age span
I am proud to say:
The wheelchair races at the NH were uneventful, even though I was stuck having to push the heaviest ones and feared, if they put their feet down to stop at the finish line, my fat ass would be catapulted over their heads. Not one resident was dumped out, despite the idle threat I made to one. I really was just kidding........ Really....what????!!!!
I am even MORE proud to say:
I did not inflict any bodily injury to my son's ex who decided to show up for the party. I was even somewhat polite, not ending any sentence I said to her with the words "slut" or "whore".
I really am proud of myself.
So, all in all, this week was very successful for me. I did not lose my nursing license due to the fact no harm was done to people under my care. Nor did I go to jail for assault over the weekend. Basically, seven straight days of good clean fun. (Look----I am only inches from the "ex" that broke my baby's heart AND tried to pick a brawl with his older sister. She is an idiot, BTW.)
I am now looking forward to next week. We have a Halloween carnival on Friday where small children will attack us for candy and prizes at the NH, as well as costume party on Sat. at the local hang out. (Deb, it starts at eight. Be there or be square.)
Thank goodness I will be in disguise for both events. I can only contain myself for so long.
Monday, October 12, 2009
So, for 5 months I tried the life of not checking emails or blogs and trying to be productive, like cooking and cleaning and working my dimpley ass off.
I realized that being productive is NOT what it's cracked up to be. It is so NOT fun for me.
I also have since realized that I missed laughing and just how much I have missed my friends.
Truth is, I just can't quit y'all.
So I am back.
Got out of partnership.
Took a real job.
Finished the pool project and now only go inside to pee and sleep.
Tried that whole domestic crap and have made definite confirmation that I no likey.
Hooked up with Deb
Fell completely in love with her and am now leaving my husband for her.
Speaking of Deb, her last post was about the weekend we spent together. And even though she trashed my hostessing ability, we never stopped laughing except to swig a drink or two (or a hundred). Who needs to eat full meals anyway?? She is on this fat-free diet and I was just supporting it. So there.
Deb was my first "friend" doing this bloggy thing. It was the hatred of aggressive birds that bonded us together. Since that, we have bonded with our shared love of our grandchildren, idiotic children, do-it-yourself home repairs, and now the hole-in-the-wall bar.
I was sweating bullets thinking I was going to have to do the whole tour guide thing, taking her to museums, art displays, symphony productions, and all the other great activities Big D has to offer. When she mentioned she had no desire to do all that intellectual stimulating stuff, I cannot tell you how relieved I was. She was more than happy to just hang out at the misspelled local hangout Kountry Nites.
She was the Belle of the proverbial Ball at this home-away-from-home Dive (which just FYI used to be called Scandals). Her first night there, the bartenders and her were on a first name basis and she made them feel all important by ordering fancy smancy drinks like Lemon Drops and Chocolate Cake shots. She was able to show off her sharky pool moves and great dancing abilities, making me look like I hang out with extremely cool people.
My friends LOVED her and, even as we speak, she and Niki are, I am almost positive, texting each other. (Only because I never have a freakin' signal. Effing TMobile. I am sure they would totally not be leaving me out for any other reason...) There's nothing like having an entire gang of people you love laughing at and making fun of you. Seriously. It's so much fun. (Asses. All of you.)
We have already made plans to reunite ASAP and continue the badgering and poking, which after the first night they slammed me for being all "high-maintenance, snooty, prissy, graceful, etc., etc.", just became droning. They think they are hilarious though, and being the great friend I am, gave them all the ammunition they needed to have fun. Hell, if nothing else, I am accommodating.
I am so excited about getting back into the swing of blogging. I have missed you guys incredibly and cannot wait to catch up. Thank you so much for all the sweet comments about missing me. It makes my snooty prissy head all big.
And we all know here in Texas we like it big.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
I have tried watching Paula and Rachel, but I just get hungry, never really motivated to cook. Krista gave me an apron which I look totally HOTT in, but doesn't make food magically appear on the table.
I have started baby-stepping to do more than the usual hot dogs, tacos and spaghetti. I have graduated to actually doing more than throwing the frozen skillet meal in the skillet. I have found this website that makes me look FABULOUS!!!!!
It has recipes, how-to's, places to save your favorites, so it's like your personal cookbook. It has recipes for CHOCOLATE MARTINIs and other boozy drinks!!!!!! Enough said.
The meals are easy and fast and really good. They don't make me sweat or my hair frizz while preparing them, so all is well. My husband has commented that he has more energy and my kids are now doing great in school. I have no idea what they are trying to tell me.
So head on over to myrecipes.com and be cool like me. And, no, they didn't pay anything to say this. I asked for a personal chef, but he hasn't arrived yet.When he gets here, I am almost postive he will use myrecipes.com, too. Because he is not only going to be a supermodel for underwear, he will also be extremely intelligent. Okay, I am done rambling. GO!!! Click and find a good recipe to try tonight. Then call me when it's ready and I will head right over.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
I had many babysitting jobs over my teenage years. I had jobs with the same 5 families, so I was certain I did something right.
I loved kids. I loved pretending it was my house and they were my kids. I cooked. I cleaned. I played games. I performed the Heimlich Maneuver on more than one occasion. I loved them. I was an extraordinary babysitter.
Until I sat for Chris.
Chris was the kind of 5 year old kid that they make horror pictures about. His entire purpose in life was to make everyone hope they never had a child like him.
He screamed when you told him no.
He cried when you made him go to bed.
He could scale the wall and hang in the 12 foot doorways and jump down on top of you when you were panicking and racing through the house looking for him.
He made Chuckie, Damien Omen 1, and Children of the Corn look like cherubs.
And he loved me.
I really was mean to him, telling him I would never come over again if he didn't stop:
1. picking his nose and eating it,
2. throwing the cat on the roof,
3. eating an entire box of macaroni uncooked and sprinkling the cheese powder all over his room
all in one night.
So when his mom called me to watch him for the ENTIRE weekend, it took some finagling. I finally said yes and arrived after school on Friday.
I entered their home and mom and dad said a hasty goodbye and fled the scene, leaving me standing there thinking I had just entered the Twilight Zone.
Chris was watching cartoons and didn't even acknowledge my presence. I normally would have been perturbed at his rudeness, but this calm behavior was actually a very nice change of pace for him.
I informed him I would make him dinner and made my way to the kitchen. I made frozen chicken strips and mac and cheese with green beans to even out the nutritious meal that any five year old boy would love. I called from the kitchen for him to come eat.
There was no response.
I made my way back into the living room to find it empty.
Okay, this brat was really working my last nerve. I called out for him and searched the entire house to find no demon child.
I went outside and called his name. He wasn't in the front yard or in the back. I was really beginning to panic.
This was way before cell phones and, mom and dad, escaping from reality, had left with no forwarding number. I was stuck. What the hell was I supposed to do? I took a deep breath and went back inside to get my thoughts together.
Then I did what every responsible teenager would do.
I sat down to eat.
I announced aloud every move I was making:
"Hmmm, I have no idea where Chris is. I sure wish he was here. Guess I will eat and hope he shows up. This chicken is GREAT! Mmmmm, the macaroni, PERFECT!!"
I went on for ten minutes, hoping somehow that creepy little bastard was listening and would eventually emerge.
Sure enough, just as I was washing off my plate, I turned to find him sitting at the table, helping himself to the feast.
"Oh, Chris, so glad you could join me! Where were you?"
Oh, okay. Where were you hiding?"
"I can't tell you. Then I couldn't hide there anymore."
"Alrighty. If you hide again, I won't buy you any ice cream."
"What kind of ice cream?"
"Any kind you want."
And with that threat I was pretty confident, the weekend would go much smoother. Man, was I wrong.
That night he vanished two more times. I had locked all the doors, so I knew he was inside. The thought of him ingesting some poison or poking his eye out with some sharp object kept me looking in every nook and cranny all evening long.
Saturday and Sunday were the same. He would be at my side one second and the next- gone, not to be found for about an hour. After the fourth time of him hiding, I just enjoyed the peace and quiet, read some of mom's trashy vixen novels, and thought this was the easiest money I had ever made.
Sunday afternoon, when he hid again, I yelled, "Okay, fine! You aren't getting ice cream!" I heard a muffled "I don't even like ice cream!" So I followed the sound and found him under his bed hiding behind a giant stuffed dog. He was so still and trying to fake me out, so I just left him, pretending I hadn't seen him.
I read some more of mom's trashy novel and soon heard mom and dad pull into the driveway. I made my way back to his room and peeked under the bed. He had fallen asleep and I gingerly picked him up and placed him on his bed.
Mom and dad came in and asked how Chris had been over the weekend.
"Oh, it was like he wasn't even here. He was great!"
They paid me the cash wadded up in the tiny roll and I headed to my car. I was actually feeling a little bad for how little time I actually spent interacting with the kid. I waited until I was at the stop sign before I looked to see how much I had raked in for doing nothing all weekend.
I unrolled the green to find two tens. TWENTY DOLLARS? What was that, like .05 cents an hour?!
Okay, I officially didn't feel bad at all.
I should have left the little turd under the bed and made them look for him. AND taken her trashy novel I never finished.
Monday, April 20, 2009
I am not one of those parents.
I know how important it is to keep them from the evils of all the unnecessary cursing, talking about sex, the influences of alcohol and drugs, the pressure to conform to a certain stigma. That's why they needed to be away from me. Just kidding, I don't do drugs and I barely drink.
Seriously, even with the huge girth I carry, my nerves are very thin and petite. The thought of having them here and trying to teach them something scholastic makes me hyperventilate. I totally suck at teaching them to clean their room and wash their plates off before they put them in the dishwasher. It's sad really.
Plus, as I have confessed before, I am a yeller. And now that I am aged, I refuse to be titled the name of the Walt Disney show where the yellow lab was shot by his owner. My daughter HAS made it to Nationals in Archery and that right there is reason enough to scare the crap out of me.
But recently I have wondered how much my kids have learned from their peers.
Claire is learning weird things from her weird friends and I hate it because this is a whole new venue for me. With seven kids, five being my very own, I have been through the drinking, sex, drugs, staying out past curfew, lying, flunking classes, and almost every other horrible "phase"
So on that solemn note, I will now take you by the hand and lead you to the less serious and funny side of my world.
Cooper, who at one point totally had his older brothers convinced that he might be less-than-manly because of his disinterest in any sport and love of reading, has entered the Testosterone Phase of life. I have had to bang on his bathroom door thinking he had passed out in there or was extremely constipated, only to have him slink out with towel in hand and lotion bottle on the counter. It was a shocker, to say the least. The boy doesn't use soap half the time, and soft skin, I am almost positive, is the furthest thing from his mind.
At this point I am thinking he would have never learned the lotion trick if I had homes-chooled.
So I have concluded that he is growing up. I am a nurse and know all that is natural, but honestly I am almost dumbfounded. My older boys never let on that they were normal at that age. It wasn't until they were late teens before I found the porns and magazines and other grotesque things that have horifically burned their image in my mind.
It all started to become last week when I went upstairs to
The cartoon characters with their "buds" and wisps of pubic hair were drawn very simpistically and innocently. I breathed a sigh of relief thinking he was good with that image and that it brought some satisfaction to his hormonal needs.
Two days later, Cooper and Rick are outside with our landscape guy and apparently doing some male bonding.. There was laughter and slapping of the knees and as I walked past the window, I smiled and got a little teary thinking my baby was growing up and fitting in with the "boys".
Later that night, Rick said, "Do you know what Coop said tonight to me and Jared?" He began to tell me how somehow the conversation had made a turn to "heavy girls". Out of the blue Cooper says, "That's more cushion for the pushin'!" Both men were shocked that out of the mouth of this twelve year old kid, came such phrasing.
"Where did you learn that? Who told you that?" Rick was horrified.
"I heard it on the bus."
"Do you even know what that means?!"
"Yeah. The fatter they are, the harder they fall when you push 'em."
Thank God he knows the real truth. I hate to be pushed.
Friday, April 17, 2009
1. What is something your husband always says to you? "I love you" and "My knees, back, feet, hips* are killing me" (*insert any body part here)
2. What makes your husband happy? Our kids/grandkids (not asking for money)
3. What makes your husband sad? Not being able to build a commune for all our kids/families to live together.
4. What was your husband like as a teen? Very athletic with a giant fro
5. How old is your husband ? 51
6. How tall is your husband ? 5'10"
7. What is his favorite thing to do? Vacationing with our family/sleeping late/no phone calls
8. What does your hubby do when you're not around? Surf the Internet and watch Transformers 984 times
9. If your husband becomes famous, what will it be for? putting 7 kids through college and being able to sleep standing up, like a horse.
10. What is your husband really good at? Business/money issues and being seriously the kindest man I know.
11. What is your husband not really good at? letting me forget what something costs/cooking
12. What does your husband do for a job? Owns Hardwood flooring co. and home builder
13. What is your husbands favorite food? Steak-medium rare
14. What makes you proud of your husband? How big his heart is. I know you were thinking I was going to say something else, you sicko.
15. If your husband were a cartoon character, who would he be? Shaggy
This is the way he answered them:
1.What is something your husband always says to you? "I love you" and "Show me the money" (along with "I am the luckiest man on earth". What?!)
2. What makes your husband happy? Coming home (and having dinner on the table-preferably made by someone other than me)
3. What makes your husband sad? When the kids aren't not doing well. (and when he can't buy me furs and diamonds. Right, honey? Honey?!)
4. What was your husband like as a teen? Studly athletic dork. (OMG, have I told you he had like a 10 inch in diameter fro?)
5. How old is your husband ? 106 (only when he complains like my great grandmother Bentley)
6. How tall is your husband ? 5ft 10 (of solid hunk)
7. What is his favorite thing to do? Play (is he six?)
8. What does your hubby do when you're not around? Cleans the house (while surfing the internet)
9. If your husband becomes famous, what will it be for? Playing baseball/Building our dream home (He is really ARod, but I didn't want to brag)
10. What is your husband really good at? Loving my family and working as hard as I can for them. (I waited and he never said it aloud, but we all know what he was thinking...)
11. What is your husband not very good at? decorating (a- to the -men)
12. What does your husband do for a job? Manage idiots. Hardwood floors/build houses (He is serious. They really are idiots at times.)
13. What is your husband favorite food? Steak
14. What makes you proud of your husband? Loving my family and working hard (True, even if he already said that line)
15. If your husband were a cartoon character, who would he be? Goofy (only after 3 beers)
Sorry, he is taken, people. Pinch me.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
The crowds have gathered and
I finally had something happen blog-worthy that did not involve whining about about all the stress work and my kids are putting me under. (You know I HAD to slip it in somewhere)
I might need a tan.
These things have actually happened to me over the last 3 days to prove, once again, I am almost an albino.
1. Easter Sunday my 14 year old daughter asked me when white hose came back into style. I wasn't wearing hose.
2. I dropped a dollop of Cool Whip on my leg and it took me 10 minutes to find it.
3. I put on white lotion on my calves and it looked bronze compared to my skin.
4. I go for the ashey look because it makes me look darker.
5. I told a guy I was part Indian and I think I heard him say, "What, you like to play Bingo, drink a lot, or instead of saying 'corn' you say 'my people call it maize'"?
Being the chubby red-headed freckle-faced kid jokes were made about, I have needed a tan for almost 44 years now. Even as a lifeguard for a summer at camp, the only pigment besides BRIGHT RED I had was freckles. Blended together in a mass, if you hold your head just right and squint your eyes, I look kinda brown. Or look like like I am wearing a brown shawl on my shoulders. Either way...
I have tried tanning beds. All I got from those damn things was hot and sweaty and some rash from the excellerant that the
I have tried spray-on tans. That worked. For 2 days. And cost 30 buckaroonies. Every 2 days. Times 5 months. NOT going to happen.
I have tried tanning creams. I have done the streaks, the orange glow, the dark elbows and in between each finger. I just can't pull off the look. Plus the smell makes me gag. And it is very hard work to put it even all over the mass I have. I am seriously exhausted afterwards. But I have found one that is VERY light so if there's streaks, you really can't tell. Except on my palms if I forget to wash my hands. PRESSURE, people. It's just too much.
But I will muster the strength to do it, just so I will not cause people to put their sunglasses on while showing them my new shoes.
I will just have to remember to wear pants if I sit with another terminal patient. I think my legs are throwing them off with the whole "go towards the light" thing.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
The week had been the hardest Pam had had in a very long time. Keeping children at her home had gotten the best of her. The remodeling of her home had caused the chaos to overwhelm her. She was exhausted physically as well as mentally. She needed a break.
She called her husband as he left the office to ask if they could go out for dinner. He informed her the budget wouldn't allow it. "Don't we have chicken or something in the freezer?"
She hung up the phone and the rage began to rise, first in her stomach, then in her throat. She jerked the freezer door opened and pulled the chicken out. The innocent frozen bird found itself in the clutches of a mad white woman.
The first smash of the bird against the counter was deafening and brought little peace to Pam. The second and third swing began to calm her some as tiny shards of frozen chicken began to become airborne. As she slammed the meat repeatedly, pieces of the victim stuck to the walls and windows and chunks landed with thuds bringing a calmness to Pam that she hadn't felt in weeks.
When nothing was left of the poor chicken, Pam raised her head and looked around. Her kitchen resembled an explosion aftermath. As she slowly glanced around the room to see the remnants of her rage, her eyes fell on the clock that hung on the wall over the table. Her stingy uncaring husband would be home in 25 minutes. The fit she threw had taken 12 minutes. Twelve minutes to totally dismember a frozen 2.2 pound clucker. She now believed she really could lift a car off a child if someone made her angry.
She smoothed her hair down after wiping the ice and shredded chicken parts off her hands and reached for the stainless pot inside the cabinet. Salmonella dripped from every inch of her large country kitchen, but she didn't seem to mind.
She began to hum as she gathered all the shards and placed them delicately into the pot, not bothering to wipe them off, and walked towards the sink. She looked down at her progress and smiled as the pot was almost half full of dirty chunks. The water was coming to a boil as that frugal man she married 17 years earlier walked through the door. She had already started two side dishes as came up to her to kiss her hello, just like he had every day he came home.
He didn't notice she didn't touch the meat as they ate together in silence. Her selflessness just allowed more for him. They smiled at one another, hers lasting just a bit longer than usual.
I love "Pam" and want to thank her for great fodder and for allowing me to share it with the world. We are calling for pizza next time I visit, just FYI.
Monday, April 6, 2009
That hunk of a bald man, Jay sent me this t-shirt and a pin from his shaving escapade, probably just to make sure I didn't put the picture of his hand showing his thumb on the blog. Thank you, Jay. And don't worry, your secret is safe with me.
I spent the day with Claire and her friends at the track meet. Track meets are my ultimate favorite hang-outs, with a root canal with no Novocaine running a close second . Especially when the wind blows 739 mph and there is nowhere to sit. Fun fun fun!!!
Saturday, March 28th, was this perfect adorable angel's FIRST birthday.
She ate her cake and went into a sugar coma.
Perfection with sugar on top.
My mommy made me this Birthday Princess t-shirt, tutu, and ginormous bow.
They are supposed to pour the decking and the foundation for the garage Tuesday. We will see. It has rained every day they plan on coming to work, then too wet to come afterwards. I am going insane looking at the unfinished mess in my backyard. Plus, my pool guys so far have NOT been hotties. I think I should get a discount.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
One human hair can support 3 kg (6.6 lb).
The average man's penis is three times the length of his thumb.
Human thighbones are stronger than concrete.
A woman's heart beats faster than a man's.
There are about one trillion bacteria on each of your feet.
Women blink twice as often as men.
The average person's skin weighs twice as much as the brain.
Your body uses 300 muscles to balance itself when you are standing still.
If saliva cannot dissolve something, you cannot taste it.
Women reading this will be finished now.
Men are still busy checking their thumbs.
Have much more to tell you later. Pictures to follow. And no, Jay, I am not talking about the one of your thumb.
Friday, March 27, 2009
To hoom it mae cunsern,
I waunt to apply for the job what I saw in the paper.I can Type realee quik wit one finggar and do sum a counting..I think I am good on the phone and I no I am a pepole person,Pepole really seam to respondto me well. Certain men and all the ladies.I no my spelling is not to good but fi nd that I Offen can get a job thru my persinalety.My salerery is open so we can discus wat you want to pay me and wat you think that I am werth,I can start emeditely. Thank you in advanse fore yore anser.hopifuly Yore best aplicant so farr.
Because my resimay is a bit short - below is a pickture of me.
It's OK honey, we've got spell check. See you Monday.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
To be a Home Health RN JUST.LIKE.ME here in BFE, you must be willing to:
Go to homes with the concept you are going to give incredible care to your homebound patients.
Travel the backroads to GET to some of those homes WAY OUT in the country.
Depend on your navigation system to get you lost OVER and OVER and hear "Recalculating" about 28 times in a 5 mile stretch.
Arrive at your first home to find the caregiver outside motioning in panic.
Realize caregiver is headed BEHIND the house and wonder WTH is my bedbound patient doing BEHIND the house...
Hear your patient's caregiver say, "I need you to help me round up these kids."
Be prepared to talk in your authoratative voice to do said "rounding" for apparent disruptive "kids".
Realize it is THESE kind of kids, not the two-legged kind.
Get more exercise in 5 minutes than you have had in months, waving your arms and doing some football moves.
Go to your NEXT patient's house in town and breathe a sigh of relief you will not have any further goat-herding to do that day.
Enter the house to see this:
Realize you must have been absent on the day you were instructed in "livestock care" in nursing school.
Rethink this whole nursing career thing...
I know you are green with envy. Or maybe that's baby chick poop...
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Shaving my thighs
Going in search of the total body swimsuit that has yet to be invented.
Vats of sunblocks
Vats of bug spray
Vats of wine
And my sick patients suddenly become well. They have the same spring fever the rest of us have and want to have less visits, which means, well, you know...less money. Hello, sick patients....Do you have any idea how expensive vats of wine are?!
Speaking of patients:
Nurse arrives to check on patient with Diabetes. This patient has to have insulin and we provided him with a sharps container to dispose his used syringes in. When done adminstering the insulin, the nurse turns to find the sharps container was full.
THAT my friends, is being green to the bone.
YEA!!! He needs more education, which means more visits!!!!!!
Liquor store, here I come. I wonder if they sell razors there? My thigh hairs could be braided.
Monday, March 16, 2009
My MIL has been with us all week due to some home maintenance issues at her house. Bring me Xanax.
I have decided that life goes on, I love to laugh MUCH more than I love to cry, and I can only do so much and asking for help is okay. Plus I have lost 13 pounds. Without exercise. Stress does that. trust me I would rather be fat than deal with what I am dealing with.
The Young 'uns are at their dad's house for three more days and our weekend guests have left. That means dear hubby and I have to speak to complete sentences to one another and I have no one to blame for the dishes stacking up and the supper not being made. (dammit)
They started on our pool last week and had it dug and poured before the torrential down pour that lasted three days occurred. So now my lovely cement pond is half full of lime green radio active water or something I am sure that is just as dramatic.
The soil around here in these parts is clay. Brown snotty slimey clay. The kind of clay when wet sticks to your feet and you start the day being 5 ft 5 inches and by the end of the day are close to 8 feet tall. So I have mounds of brown snot/slime surrounding the side and back of my house. Right in my
Bring on the chaise lounges and Mai Tais. Pass me the 45 sunblock and my wide brimmed hat. It will be time to party soon.
Clear your calendar in September for our sleepover. The dates will be decided on soon. We are giving Jay a makeover. Hee hee.
Now add this fortune cookie to your next post and see where it ends up. No linking required. Just copy as a picture and get down with your bad self.
Monday, March 9, 2009
I have decided to transform my garage to a TV studio. The lights and chairs are in place and the audience is restless. The burly bodyguards have been hired are are waiting in the sidelines.
Enter this Saga's stars: my sister, Lizzie(Mom of the Year), my niece(Smartest 15 year old on earth), countless horny bastards, worthless state and city employees, and Me(the current reigning Heartless Bitch).
Let's review a tad:
August 08: My niece decided to move out because she had the choice to follow the rules and quit sneaking out to have sex or move out. Simple enough. She chose to move out because, like most 15 year olds, she is so much smarter than adults.
Oct 08: I get a letter from said niece begging to come back because her mom is making her go to school and work. She now hates her mom (again). I said no.
Dec 08: Repeated calls/texts from niece saying she has changed and will follow rules. I make heart-wrenching decision to stick to my guns and continue to say no, explaining I cannot put MY kids thru this.
Jan 09: Receive call from Lizzie saying I need to take Britt back because she is done being a mom. Three days later I receive call saying niece is pregnant.
Feb 09: Spent a month finding niece a place to stay/advising her to give baby up for adoption. She refuses saying she is never going to do either one because she can take care of herself. Still wants me to take her back because "she can take care of herself". My sister moves to Washington state and leaves her daughter homeless and her Mother of the Year crown in storage.
Mar 6th, 2009: Niece arrives in my town saying she is here and wants to move back in. I say "hell to the no" again. I spend the entire weekend being a prisoner in my own home until my security guy can come and talking with the police. She had sent a text to my daughter telling her to steal money and a phone from us. The police tell me they cannot do anything. CPS cannot do anything because they don't know where she is.
Cue the chorus of "Jerry! Jerry! Jerry!"
I will be signing autographs after the show.
Friday, March 6, 2009
I have been telling my kids for 24 and a half years now I hold this title. Now here is the proof. My precious, apparently psycho, friend Em at Life, Liberty and the Pursuit granted me this beautiful award. Thank you, dear Em. (Next time we go out, please order more than crab cakes. You make me feel like a cow.)
Okay, here are the rules (and everyone knows how I LOVE rules):
1. Admit ONE thing you feel awful about involving being a mom. Get it off your shoulders. Once you've written it down, you are NO LONGER allowed to feel bad. It's over with, it's in the past. Remember, you're a great mom!!
The one thing negative that comes to mind is i feel bad because I refuse to clean up after them and they make me scream because screaming is so much easier than cleaning. I don't feel bad for making them clean. I just feel rotten when I lose it and sling spit when I am having the meltdown. For about 10 seconds. Then I feel bad because I really don't feel all that bad. What was the question?
2. To remind yourself that you ARE a good mom, list SEVEN things you love about your kids, you love doing with your kids, or that your kids love about you. These are the things to remind yourself of EVERY DAY that you rock!
1. I love that my kids are all so funny. They crack me up. Literally. I am cracked.
2. I love that my older boys are proud of the fact they are Momma's boys and brag to their friends about it. (plus it's easier to hand over cash to someone who is bragging, "Yeah, that's right, I'm a Momma's boy!")
3. I love watching my kids interact with one another, telling stories and sharing memories. (NOT the interaction of fighting. They are good at that, as well.)
4. I love that my kids kid me about not being able to cook. No culinary expectations are really a good thing. I really love it when my youngest says to me, "This meatloaf is better than dad's." I know he's a smoozer, but I still love the compliment.
5. I love to travel with my kids. They are so appreciative and seriously do not ask for much. It is a true joy to give them opportunities they have never experienced. They take nothing for granted and I love that about them.
6. I love that my kids all kiss me hello and goodbye. Even my too-cool almost-14 year old daughter. She is even known to tell me I am beautiful without expecting a handout.
7. I love that my kids can all take a joke. None of them have thin skin, and I find no greater joy than laughing with them. They can all laugh at themselves and making fun of one another is seldom an issue since we all make fun of ourselves. It works for us. Their friends have often said there is never any drama or fighting at our house because no one can stay mad at one another because someone always makes them laugh. I tell them individually that they are my favorite and not to tell their siblings. They all know I do it to each kid, because no one can keep a secret.
3. Hand out this beauty to deserving Moms and Dads (who don't mind being called "MOM" at times).
Again, you know I am lazy and I am just assigning it to everyone, male or female, who reads this. It's a GREAT subject to post about and I truly believe some of us are looking for some boosts in post ideas.
Update: My niece is who-knows where. Her mother, whom we have divorced and no longer consider our sister, moved to Washington and left her. Thank you for the thoughts and prayers. I will try to keep you as updated as I can.
Monday, March 2, 2009
And Shauna and Holly and yet another gorgeous blogger who I was introduced to between glasses of wine and want to call Chardonnay. (please forgive for not remembering your name!!)