Sunday, August 31, 2008
So the friend tells me he is doing this monumental task, cleaning out his mom's house, because his sister can't handle it. He tells me that for weeks and weeks his wife has been making him feel guilty because he just wanted to spend more time with his mom. Not that he could change the fact that she was going to die, but that he just wanted the precious time that was left with her to be more meaningful. His wife didn't understand that and thought the routine tasks of life (soccer practice and PTA meetings) were more important for him to tend to. Tensions mounted, disappointment took over, and guilt abounded. He said he had different expectations about how his wife of 14 years would handle crisis. He is surprised at her lack of empathy. So he's there alone, packing up stuff - reliving memories - feeling guilty that he didn't get enough time with his mom and feeling guilty that he let his kids down because he missed the first day of school. There will be another first day of school. There will never be another few moments to spend with his mom.
He goes on to say that he needed to talk to Hubby, just because Hubby has a way of making him feel good about himself and the choices he makes. Hubby just listens, and has forever. Friend says "You have an tremendous guy there." I say - "You're right. But don't let him I know I know...because then he'll have nothing to keep trying to prove to me , you know- once I admit that he actually is tremendous - he won't have to keep finding ways to show me!"
I managed to get a small chuckle out friend - and came to a realization of my own. I guess I really thought I knew this friend of Hubby's. I know him differently now.
I always knew that about Hubby.
*Backstory = this really a friend of Hubby's whom I tolerated and could never really understand the friendship in terms of these two guys being from completely different world's. Golf was their common universe. So I thought.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
As for the blog fodder, here are a few highlights:
On getting a good night's sleep: The first night we went up to the room around 1:00 a.m. , a reputable time to go to bed, for me anyway. Mom wants to talk, and talk, and talk, make coffee, have a snack, watch Law and Order, discuss politics, debate the injustice in Darfur...until about 3:30 a.m. At this point , I am so tired - I say "Mom, no more talking." She falls asleep (with the help of Tylenol PM) and then I lay there wide awake for another hour or so. Then at 6:30 in the morning, mom starts her day. I had about 1 1/2 hours of sleep that first night. But it's okay - the Vegas breakfast and carbo load....a Bloody Mary with Olives got me going for the day !
*On meeting my planned meeting Robin in the casino for a drink on Monday evening- Mom wanted me to look her name up in the phone book to see if she was real. You know, in case she really not who she said she was. I said "Mom, if I tell her to meet me holding a red flower, and an 84 year old man with a red flower comes up to me ...I don't have to say I'm me!" She's clearly watched waaay too much of John Stossle's internet porn stings.
(as it turns out, Robin's father got very ill and need emergency open heart surgery. She had a change of plans, and I totally understand. Been there and done that. And it sucked)
*On my choice of undergarments: "Are those 'pants' comfortable?" I said "I wouldn't call them comfortable in the real sense of the word. But I found myself spending the better part of the day pulling my underwear out my ass, I just figured I would just start the day with them up there to begin with. And, the bonus? No panty lines."
*On T.M.I. (too much information): Mom overhears (read: eavesdrops) (read: reads lips, as she is deaf as a doorknob) a group of sunbathers laughing and playing a card game out by the pool. One of the women picks up a pen with her toes and manages to write something on a piece of paper. Mom gets up and tells them about a time when she and dad and their travel friends went to a sex show and the performer used her...lady envelope(insert euphemism here) to pick up a pen and write a letter, peel and shoot a banana from said euphemistic body part, and make some uncommon sounds from there as well. I stood behind her, not in shock or disbelief since I knew she had seen these feats and I can believe she would tell perfect strangers this story. But I played to shock card for the purposes of embellishment and pretended to shrink in horror. It was a hoot. And she was worried about me and meeting a blog friend.
P.S. Mrs. R at Mrs. R's Diary is having a 100th post contest. I want to win. I have a lot
to make up for after 36 hours in Vegas. This counts as two extra entries? Right?
P.P.S. School started as did all my PTA (read: unpaid volunteer sucker mom involvement) I have more homework than my almost 9 year old 4th grader! I guess I am lucky I can afford to be so involved in my child's school.
Emily is going to be 9 next month. Atomic Bowling party is scheduled!
Co-ed. Oy Vey. Her best friend from camp is a boy named Andrew. He's popular, a great singer, in touch with his 9 year old feminine side, and destined to be gay. Not that's there's anything wrong with that.
Rachel starts pre-K after labor day. If I had known what the school cut offs to enter kindergarten were before I had kids - I would never have had a kid in January.
Saturday, August 23, 2008
I hope to hook up (not in the biblical sense) with Robin at Party Of Five. You should read her, if you don't already know her. As this is a mother-daughter weekend, I thought it only fitting to ask my mom if she minded if a bloggy friend could come to the casino for a drink. This is a real (read: slightly exaggerated for comedic effect) converstion with my mom.
Swirl Girl: "Hey mom, would you mind if I invited a bloggy friend to have a drink with us?"
Mom: "Do you know her?"
S.G. : "Not in the biblical sense."
S.G.: "Mom, you still there?" Is this thing still on, anyone ... anyone? Buehler?
M: "Do you know her?"
S.G. : "No, I don't know her, but she was one of the first ever commentors on my blog! I know her real name. I ran a background check , and ran her through CSI for prints. She came out clean."
M: " I would just be careful, that's all I'm saying."
S.G. : " Mom, it's not like I'm inviting her to sleep over...we are in a casino with boatloads of people. I trust her as much as I would trust someone not to steal my shit when I get up to pee."
M: "It's okay by me, just be careful"
I think my mom thinks she could be a whack job. Or she'll steal my purse or something. I think a casino is a fitting place to meet a possible whack job, don't you? There's some fierce competition for crazy in Vegas. So if I dont' write a post by say , Wednesday - you'll know my mom was right.
**In reality I am a total wuss. If she goes for my purse, I 'm screwed. I am not worried, my mom's got a mean arm. Who knows, maybe her mom is telling her to be careful about meeting me!
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Even though I have done this before- my job here is to list some stupid facts about myself. I have no issue coming with a ton of these...so if you are new around here , hang on- I hope I can stop at just 6.
1. I have no pinkie toe nails. Just little slits of skin-type substance where a nail should be. Never had them, never did. I could lie and say I was the victim of some industrial accident, or I donated them because nobody wanted my overly used liver...but alas, just mutant toe nails on otherwise perfectly cute feet.
2. I can watch eleventy five hours of t.v in a row and not pay attention to one commercial. I literally get all glazed over and although it seems I am watching, I am not. Yet, I can sing the jingle of just about every product that has ever had a jingle written for it.
3. I prefer powdered non-dairy creamer in my coffee. Don't know why, but I'd rather put in the shaved styrofoam at room temperature, than real cream from the fridge. (cold stuff into hot stuff? What's the point of that?) The shit has the half life of Uranium, is probably carcinogenic, and not even a real food type substance - But I love it my java so there.
4. I'd rather have 40 bites of 40 different things than 40 bites of one thing. Tapas and sushi were made just for me. I also like the confluence (big $10 word there) of texture and flavor when I eat. I think hot buttered popcorn is perhaps the perfect junk food. Salty, creamy, crunchy. That or anything from the 'toes group = chee, fri, dori and pota!
5. For years - and I mean until I was in college ...I swear I thought the Deep Purple song "Smoke on the Water" was really ...Smoke Covered Worm Turd. Really. Get off the floor and stop laughing.
6. Every day in the shower, when the glass walls are all steamed up, I draw either a little smiley face or press little footprints (with my fists and little toes, too) in the steam. Hubby sees the 'graffiti' and assumes it's one of the girls.
Toldja stupid was easy for me.
I am supposed to do the following...but this little thing has been back and forth on these boards faster than the spin on an Olympic Ping Pong ball - and I can't remember who has done it and who hasn't...so will the following bloggy men and women please approach the podium and accept your medals?
Miss Blondie -good golly
Mama Dawg because she needs new blogs to read, and mine is here for her.
Trooper Thorn because his Olympic coverage is epic and a must read.
Rules of the game:
1. Link the person who tagged you (check)
2. Mention the rules on your blog (check)
3. Tell about 6 unspectacular quirks of yours (check , check)
4. Tag 6 following bloggers by linking them & leave a comment on each of the tagged blogger’s blogs letting them know they have been tagged. (slight dedection from the Swedish judge)
Monday, August 18, 2008
Here are a few of his best:
"Olympic trampoline competition- this isn't sports, it's circus training. The trainers are wearing unstructured suede boots ...and I don't trust anyone in unstructured suede boots. Fucking carnies."
"Javelin color commentary guy - it's H.E.I.G.H.T not H.E.I.G.T.H...there is not 'th' at the end of the word. And, do we really need the coach to be 'miked' from the sidelines? Do ya think he is saying what he really wants to say or what he was told to say. All coachy like and "good try" and shit like that."
"The still rings...as opposed to what - swinging rings? The flying fire rings? Duh- of course they are still rings."
"Italy - guy, Matter Morandi, better hurry...got to tape the new season of Law and Order...he's really Christopher Meloni."
"Women's hurdles. Sport or Apt Metaphor?"
"Jamaican's run for the ganja...or 'cuz they shot the sherrif."
When he can get a word in edgewise, they are usually good ones.
My screen door slammed open this morning and my little neighbor bounded in for an impromptu playdate. You see, the neighbors lived here 3 years ago, and moved (the dad's job) and now they are back! For a myriad of reasons that I choose not to go into, they are back. Suffice it to say, that I look forward to them settling in and starting up the Friday afternoon (or any day that ends in 'y') Happy Hour out front watching the kids run around being kids. I look forward to having car pool to school again. I am glad my girls have some more playmates in the cul de sac.
I realize, as I sit here listening to them play upstairs...that I am so blessed. I have moved twice for my husband's career - and lost my own in the move. But I never lost me. My friend moved for her husband and it took three years of shit happening - lots of shit -but I think she has lost herself in the process. Their circumstances have changed drastically - and my friend is now 100% dependent on her husband - both financially and emotionally. And emotional dependence is worse. Control is his thing. Subtle. Passive Aggressive. Control. And in the process of all this ...their marriage is dangling from a thread, and my friend's sense of self is teetering from a precipice, she is in constant fear that the last bit of her world is going to come crashing down on her.
And, then I complain because of wet towels on the bed, or the way Hubby brushes his teeth, or how we are going to afford this, that and the other thing. I feel guilty that I am too hard on my precious eldest and I yell at her too much. I expect perfection in the kids and Hubby, and don't
practice it myself. I am quick to criticize, and yes - sometimes I judge. I am sad (read: depressed) about some things for what seems an inordinate amount of time. I dread some situations when no dread is necessary. I know there are things I should do, but can't seem to get off my lazy ass to do them. I am at once selfish and giving of my time and energy. All of those qualities- good and bad are just my sense of self coming out say 'hello!'. I have a tremendous sense of loyalty. I am a good listener and sometimes offer sage advice (whether I am asked or not). I have a ton of logic and reasoning and common sense - thanks to my parents for bestowing that gift in me! I have little tolerance for neediness and self pity wallowers. Maybe I am like this because I am not as empathetic as I would like to think I am. Sympathetic yes...but can I really walk a mile in someone else's shoes? Worse than that - would I really want to?
I am blessed because I realize that most of things I worry about and complain about are trite and stupid. I read these blogs every day for what seems like hours - and maybe I weigh my shit-meter against the shit- meters of others...but mine is so much lighter. My shit stinks, too. But I am never stuck in that much of a rut that the shit-meter runneth over. Like my friend's is likely to do. And, when it does...I hope to be there to help her clean up the mess.
As I get older, I start to believe in fate more and more. Magical, mystical or spiritual - things happen for a reason...turn, turn, turn.
Friday, August 15, 2008
My option? "Honey, we really need to get a convertible with seating for four
Thursday, August 14, 2008
So yesterday, she wakes up with unexplainable stomach ailment #42 and I say (yell) "Get up and get out of bed. You are not going to miss today's semi-finals 'cuz I don't want to hear about it for the rest of summer." I slam her breakfast down on the table, get her stuff together for camp and off we go. Two hours later, I get a call from the camp that she threw up. "Chunks?" I ask. Why did I ask that? I don't know...blowing chunks means food stuffs from yesterday and the morning. Liquid bile barf means too much water and juice. I know, I know - t.m.i.
Like it makes a difference in the sick factor, the consistency of the hurl... camp nurse just wants her to go home before she passes it to other kids.
So I go back to get her at camp - feeling like the worst mom in the world for not believing her. But I was a hypochondriac when I was little, so much so that my mom wouldn't believe I had a bloody nose until she saw the stuff gushing...even then - she would peel one ply from a two ply tissue for me to use. I didn't believe her - and a part of me still doesn't. Even when we got home and she slept for, like, 4 hours. Even when she tried to take some tylenol for the fever (that she willed herself) with water and gagged that up moments later. Even when she went to bed at 5:30 p.m. and slept right through til morning. Part of me doesn't believe that she is really sick...she does this as part of a master plan to prove me wrong. I am warped.
Today- she stayed home. We all did. Emily still hasn't eaten much except 1/2 a pbj and some water. She has no fever, and is kinda mellow. I believe her now. Normally she eats like it's nobody's business. So it shouldn't be a total loss, we cleaned out her desk drawers and organized her stuff for school. Rachel just bopped around playing with all the stuff that Big Sissie has found in her room and handed down. I am doing a bit of laundry, tidying up and what not. She was sick. I admit it. She had a fever and slept the better part of Wednesday away. She hasn't mentioned missing the competition which has been all she's talked about all summer.
Why am I so hard on her? I always say with Emily - it's all or nothing. She is either whining about not getting her way or sucking up and an uber kiss ass when she does. Does she act this way because she is 8 and 11/12ths? Is is just like this around here, or are there other 'tweeners with the same issues? She is generally a great kid; smart as a whip, funny, creative, clutzy, a voracious reader, a choca-holic, still on the innocent and clueless side of woman-hood, semi-athletic, daring, not the least bit self-conscious, a great big sister who puts up with her little sister (who's pretty terrific too) more than the average big sister should have to. But she makes me nuts. She's all or nothing Emily.
The other day we went school shopping for supplies and clothes. I spent a fortune on the two girls and Emily is all "oh thank you , mommy" for the rest day, until I ask her to do something like avert her eyes from the bright shiny object (insert t.v., computer, nintendo here), or put her clothes away, or that it's time to take a shower. "Emily now, Emily now, Emily now , EMILY NOW!! "
Why am I writing this today? Because I have been struck with guilt of shittiest kind. The kind that makes you mad and sad at the same time. The kind that gets you wondering if you have any maternal instinct at all. The kind that hits you when you realize that your kids notice all kinds of things about you that you don't think they will.
Actual conversation at dinner last night with just Hubby, Rachel and I (since Emily was sick)
Rachel: "it's so nice at the table tonight and sooo quiet"
Me: "well, babe - sissy is sleeping, so we are trying to keep it down"
Rachel: "no, i mean because you aren't yelling at her"
Me: " I yell at Emily during dinner?"
Rachel: "no, you do all the time."
I am such an ass.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
We have because we are in awe of these athletes who have trained all of their lives (read: there is nothing else on).
-What's with the skimpy bra and panties that the beach volleyball gals are sporting? The ping pong players certainly care just as much about wind speed and drag and full shoulder rotation - and they aren't wearing their skivvies...
-Didja catch the opening ceremony? The little girl singer was a cuter stand-in? what a sad comment on the spirit of the whole thing. Looks are more important than talent. Nice message for our little girls...
-I sure as hell hope that Michael Phelps - who is superhuman, by the way - is 100% clean as a whistle. It would suck if someone claimed otherwise. Even if he isn't doing 'roids (which I am sure he is not), just the mention of it would create a media mess complete with new video graphics and a theme song.
-I would like to see some OTHER country's , even if not in contention for a medal against the US,
covered on NBC. And enough with the medal count tallyboard.
-The chinese woman's gymnastics team : Are these even women? I guess you'd here from the Olympic Committee if they admitted they recruited at the local preschool. Some of them are so small don't even leave a dent in the mat when they land off the vault. They try to make 'em look older by painting them with cheesy blue shadow and pink glittery cheeks. One of the NBC commentators even alluded to the probability that their passports are forged and could be as young as 13 or 14.
The Swim Cube ...need I say more?
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Monday night the girls had their first experience with room service. I think they thought it was one of the highlights of the trip. Hubby and I slept it off. Tuesday we were up and running! We played at the pool in the hotel, visited the kids club for some magic lessons (so mom could have a moment or two while daddy was working), and explored the little town of Coronado in the evening. Wednesday we hit the beach. Interesting fun fact: Silver Strand Beach is the last beach in San Diego that still allows public drinking. Not that we were doing that, but if I were a 'hobo' (as Emily calls the downtrodden and domicile challenged) I would hang on Silver Strand Beach, wouldn't you? Thursday we finished at SeaWorld until about 5:00, then headed home.
The shows are totally worth the price of admission. And, they added a Sesame Street kiddie-friendly water park-ish area with smaller rides for the younger kids. There's a climbing structure, and water squirting all over the place...and Elmo, Cookie Monster and Grover. Rachel just loved this part.
I must say - the worst part of being in a public place is ...(wait for it)...the public! Can somebody explain why you come to SeaWorld wearing 4 inch stillettos? Really. I will say this much, if ever I am feeling like a fat lard-ass, I am going back to SeaWorld. I am a hot frickin' babe compared to some of the people we saw there. Second only to say, Pigeon Forge Tennessee (where there are more toes than teeth) for validation of your general "babe-i-tude"... SeaWorld is great family amusement.
Poppin up for a quick hello!
This is quite a spectacle. These animals are massive! And, yes Rachel - that is her 'yaya'. And, this is actually Corky, Shamu's daughter. One of 4 Orcas that perform here. The 'handler' told us that just last week, a seagull mistakenly chose the pool's edge to perch. Gulp! In front of all those little kids, too. So goes the circle of life.
My gorgeous girls enjoying the otters. My dad always loved otters. He loved the way they can do 2 of his favorite things while swimming in the ocean. Eating and lying down! I think if Poppy could come back, he would come back as a Sea Otter. Okay, where do I get one of these mirrors? We look positively svelte! Didn't even have to suck in my gut. Hello, Nordstrom? Is this what you guys use, too? PS- Hubby's hat was a necessity not a fashion statement. It was frickin' hot! I will not let him wear that in public ...again.
While we were enjoying ourselves at the park, the critters were checking out Spectravision and ordering room service for themselves. The little tramps! (the room attendants actually set them up like this - cute huh?
We had a really great vacation despite the first day's food poisening and my coming home with a cold that kicked my ass over the weekend. Sadly, I had to cancel my meet up with Insane Mama and Mrs. R. I feel like a shit for doing so, but we will reschedule. Now we have American Idol week at Emily's last week of Camp. Then, school starts and soccer practices and hip hop lessons and hebrew school and pta and .......the beat goes on!
Rachel flew her first kite on the beach. After about 3 tries, she got it to fly. Big sister was hittin' the waves with her boogie board. "Gimme some fin...Noggin' ....dude" *
*extra points if you can name the movie this line came from
Friday, August 8, 2008
Apparantly I kick some ass. Or so a few of you think I do! I was dubbed a Kick Ass Blogger by Good Golly Miss Blondie! Having been away for a week, I thought I would lose all of you - but then I get this award again from Weith Kick !
Absence does make the heart grow fonder! I am so honored. And, as I am forever the rule keeper, I am to pay it forward - so here goes. If you get this award, you are supposed link back to Mamma Dawg and get on the list...so do it! Then, if you are ever so inclined (read: bored), you can go back to the list and read some Kick Ass Blogs.
Here's my 5...
Weith Kick, you are a riot. I know you gave me this, but I was going to give it to you. You slay me dude. You seem to me a bit over obsessed with smells, though. Did you get that from your sister, 'Robin's lack of ablility in the olfactory department? Was mother nature over compensating one sibling's weakness for another's strength? You both Kick Some Serious Bloggy Butt! These two are some of my most frequent visitors and I envy them and the fact they are such good friends while still being brother and sister. Wish I had that.
Brittany - you kick some ass, too. I wouldn't wanna be around her at 3:30 a.m. near a pair of scissors and a bottle of tequila. Jello shots anyone? Just shake and chill one of her kids after a trip to Grandma's house.
Cristin and her life stories kick ass too. I feel for you babe, yet I am amazed at how you manage to laugh so much when life is kicking your ass.
Romi, you tell it like it is. And, that's what I like about you.
We got back from San Diego and I will put some pictures in here later. We had a good ol' time, yessir, but I came home with a cold that has apparantly kicked my ass. Too pooped to post anymore.
EDIT: I have just added a fun new button to my side bar because I wanna win something. Check out Debbie at Blog Around the World and play along. 3 entries, right Deb?
Saturday, August 2, 2008
We are ticketed to go to SeaWorld on Monday complete with ringside seats for breakfast with Shamu and 100's of our closest friends.
I wonder if we'll be served the same thing as the big fish?**
**Fishes, squids, seals, sea lions, walruses, birds, sea turtles, otters, penguins, cetaceans (both mysticete and odontocete), polar bears, reptiles, and even a moose -- they have all been found in the stomach contents of killer whales. I hear cetaceans taste just like chicken.
I just hope my DVR doesn't get messed up so I don't miss the So You Think You Can Dance finale on Wednesday and Thursday nights. Go Twitch!