Monday, October 29, 2012

Hello Kitty can't fix everything.

I’m a little anal when it comes to being organized. In defense of myself, let me just say that I don’t think I could handle the jobs and kids and schedules without being that way. Lists and baskets and folders and calendars and having a “spot for everything” keeps me sane(ish).

With that being said, I’d like to tell you that Rambo shares an office with me. The room used to be our master bedroom until we added on a new one. There are countertops/tables that line the outsides of 3 walls and then create an L shape in the middle. Our computer screens are back to back so we face each other while we work. I can’t see him because he’s a man so he had to have a computer screen the size of Texas. All that matters to me is that I can see my TV so I can watch trashy reality TV while I work.

When he’s being a big idiot – he’ll instant message me on Facebook…from 2 feet away. The setup works well because my 2 PT jobs coincide with 2 of Rambo’s PT jobs. We share a lot of documentation and a lot of time in that room.

We do NOT share our love of organization. Rambo just makes one big pile. Then the pile gets so big it starts to lean. Then slide. Then fall over. Pens are strewn willy nilly and not in pretty little cups like on my side. It’s a damn disaster and it drives me crazy.

We get TONS of mail every day. Take your average amount of household mail and quadruple it for us. All the mail for the Villages and Commissions we work for comes direct to our house. Some days there can be over 50 pieces of mail to open. When it comes in, Rambo sorts it and I have labeled baskets lined up so that he can put certain things in the basket that they belong to. He “ain’t got no” baskets on his side of the office. Half the time his paperwork stays out on the kitchen counter instead of in his office where it belongs.

This weekend I got the bright idea to organize Rambo’s space. I couldn’t take it anymore. I bought a shelf and put the thing together with my pretty pink hammer and minimal swear words.

I then proceeded to organize the shit out of his space. By the time I was done – I wanted to trade spots with him. I went nutso. His desk has NOTHING on it now but his keyboard. It is super kuh-lean. Also - courtesy of his 7 year old daughter – he now has a Hello Kitty box that holds his business cards. He’s got a cool Miller Lite pen holder filled with lots of pretty pens and highlighters.

When I showed him that he had the nerve to say, “I only need one pen!” Blasphemy! I cannot believe he said those words out loud. Is he brain dead? One pen??? Unacceptable.

I told him I should be on HGTV. The makeover is that amazing.

I was so excited that I re-organized my side of the office too and the huge shelves along the 4th wall too. I filed the stack of papers on the file cabinet that dated back to 2009.

I got his papers on the kitchen counter and put them on his new shelf.

Big mistake. Huge.

I mean he loved his new space. Raved about it properly for the 7 year old who helped and was so proud of her work.

But the next day he asked where the paperwork on the counter was. I said, “In your office – where it belongs.”

There had been two extra long cardboard envelopes on the counter. (key words: HAD BEEN – past tense) I took the docs out of the envelopes cuz they were ugly and long and bulky and put the papers nicely on his shelf. Turns out those docs weren’t to be kept by us. They were to be signed and left in those envelopes and sent to the DNR.

Massively important paperwork USED TO BE in those ugly brown envelopes.


My stomach hurt. I had to find those envelopes. Yours truly then emptied the entire FULL trash bag piece by piece into another trash bag. Without puking or gagging. I was on a mission.

After I went through the whole bag – I remembered I had put the envelopes on the deck because they could be burned later in the fire pit. Thank Jesus!

Rambo says he told me that stuff had to be mailed (he totally did but I’m not telling him that) and that I should ask before I do stuff with his paperwork next time. I say if the shit is that important – put it in your damn office – not on the kitchen counter.

We were both panicked. This DNR project is worth millions and affects shitloads of people and we have to get it right and that’s on us and a few other board members. It’s scary as hell if I let myself think about it.

I mailed out the package this morning so everything is right with the world once again.

I think the moral of this story is threefold.

One - Leave the HGTV shit to the pros. A $15 shelf doesn’t make you Martha Stewart.

Two - Hello Kitty can't fix everything. 

Three – Everyone has their own “method to their madness”. Let them be happy with their one boring ass pen. Just because you think it’s broke – doesn’t it mean it actually is.

I think I’m officially banned from his side of the office after this. Which sucks – cuz his side is really pretty now, you know?

I hope the snotface knows I’m stealing that Hello Kitty business card holder the first chance I get.  Don't judge.  You know damn well you'd steal it too.

Sunday, October 28, 2012

Thursday, October 25, 2012

Devil or angel?

I finally figured out why I’m crazy. Like certifiably insane.

It’s rather simple. It’s because I’m a mother. A mother of two girls to be exact.

My emotions are a virtual rollercoaster every damn day. The reason for that is because my girls have the ability to make me angrier than Satan one minute and then melt my entire heart the next.

Last night was Banana’s birthday. Turns out right after school she got a fever of 101 and said her head and throat hurt. She was CUH-RABBY! I begged her to let us delay her bday cake and small party for another night when she felt better. She threw a fit with big, fat tears and everything.

Mother of the year right here, folks. I made my kid cry on her birthday. I can just hear her telling a therapist that in 20 years. “I turned 7 and my Mom tried to postpone my birthday!”…as the therapist gasps in horror!

After the fit, she fell asleep. Then she woke up and swore she still wanted to open her gifts (shocker). She opened all 3 and asked for more. Apparently she forgot the huge ass party and gifts she got a week ago! But because it’s wrong to strangle ungrateful little girls on their birthday – I walked away.

Then she wanted cake. I gave her cake. She hated the taste of the cake. So she wants a piece of pizza. Of which she takes one bite and says she’s full. Apparently my child has never heard about the starving kids in Ethiopia.

Meanwhile, Watermelon has had a scowl on her face since the moment she got home…no one knows why. Each time Rambo says ANYTHING to her – she stomps off down the hallway and bursts into tears.

By about the 5th time – being a man with a penis and no patience – Rambo is just pissed at her behavior. Says no way in hell is she going to the dance tomorrow night.

Commence more tears.

Now at this point – Rambo and I are in the kitchen alone. Seriously – our asses could be on Leave It To Beaver, right? NOT! Talk about dysfunctional.

Soooo not how I planned the fun birthday night.

I look in the living room to see Watermelon hand Banana a homemade card which Banana can now read on her own and my heart swells.

Later on when Banana is in bed resting I hear her say, “Sissy…come here.”

Then when Watermelon gets in there I hear her say, “Could you check on me every once in a while during the night since I have a fever.”

Watermelon bends down and kisses her and says, “Sure I can.”

Ugh – are these the same two spawns of Satan I wanted to lock in a closet an hour ago? I just don’t get it! I mean I have no experience in this. My brothers were evil and hated me ALL the time. 24/7. It was predictable and I knew what to do with it. This devil/angel crap my kids got going on is going to drive me over the edge.

So I decided to take a damn bath. After I told Rambo that he better get used to this shit because we have two emotional, hormonal, dramatic little girls and it’s only going to get worse and there doesn’t even have to be a reason. I also told him I have no idea where they got such tendencies (and ran from the room).

During the bath apparently, little Banana begged her Daddy to make her homemade air-popped popcorn. The kind out of a bag wouldn’t do. Turns out we had no butter so Rambo drove to the store to get his birthday girl some. The crabbier than hell fever-ridden seven year old – got her damn popcorn. And barely ate any of it.

When I turned the corner to the kitchen after my bath , I caught a glimpse of Rambo hugging Watermelon tightly and heard him say in his normal voice, “Stop being so crabby all the time, okay?” and voila! Watermelon was her old normal self the rest of the night. What the what?

I can’t effing keep up. I mean I have a hard time wrangling my own moods and emotions. How in the name of Jesus am I going to survive the next few years of parenting?

With a Xanax and Mountain Dew cocktail is how.

I think this is why animal mothers eat their young. Yes?

Wednesday, October 24, 2012

Some wandom sh*t.

I’m so sick of all the election commercials that I’ve decided to listen to Cmas music ALL day today. I don’t think it’s possible to be in a crabby mood if Cmas music is playing. Yes?

There aren’t very many things better than pizza for breakfast. Skittles and M&Ms rank right up there but start your day off with a slice of pizza and you’re bound to have a good day.

Remember the little girl that I called CPS about? I saw her on her bike, on the highway, in the RAIN, at night…alone. If I had to do it all over again – I don’t know if I’d call CPS again.

My baby girl turns 7 years old today. I’m sending 7 balloons to her at school today and she’s handing out treats. And tonight we shall partake in Hello Kitty cake. I’m surprising her by picking her up from school too. Last night she got a new Hello Kitty outfit to wear to school and she’s even got on Hello Kitty underwear!! Seriously – falling into my own Hello Kitty addiction is getting harder and harder to resist.

Have you ever had a Scotcheroo? It’s made with Rice Krispies and peanut butter and has a layer of melted chocolate chips frosting on it. To. Freaking. Die. For. My mother-in-law made 37 of the suckers for birthday treats for Banana’s class today. There are only 18 kids in the class. Would anyone like to guess who will be eating the 19 that are left over? Never tell Rambo that half the reason I married him was because his mother is a bonafide amazing Southern cook that rivals Paula Deen.

I promise to take a picture of the morel mushroom Rambo got me for my birthday so you guys can see it. As soon as the batshit cray-cray slows down to a dull roar…Ima get right on that picture taking. Stay tuned!

Watermelon has her first dance ever tomorrow night. It’s a Halloween costume school sponsored dance. She says she’s only going if her friends go. Duh. Like I didn’t know that. Seriously – I haven’t been out of school THAT long that I forgot how it works.

We recently had to do some internet wiring in our house to hook up a direct connection to the Wii for Netflix and wireless and some crap like that. It meant Rambo had to crawl around up in our attic while I stayed downstairs pulling wire through that he shoved down to me. And how – you may ask – would I be able to grab said wire through walls?

Well – let me tell you. Rambo literally hammered holes in the wall. Yah – not kidding. Sledgehammer – through my walls. At least 7 holes…before we hit the right spot. Now I’m determined to turn into Bob Vila-ette and fix the damn things like they were never there. Yes – smart and normal people hire shit like this out. I never said we were smart. We live in Podunk and we’re professional hicks. You wait – I’ll take before and after pictures to amaze you with my DIY skills.

See you tomorrow for 10 Things Thursday!!!

Monday, October 22, 2012

Celebrate YOU.

I’ve made it no secret that I love birthdays. Almost as much as I love Skittle baths.

Let’s be honest. A birthday is like a day of permanent residency in Care Bear Land, with the obligatory faucets that Mountain Dew flows out of and lots and lots of farting gumdrops. The birthday “high” in my world lasts at least a week and we joke that it should last a month.

It’s a big deal. Rambo has always, always made my birthday a big deal. I do the same for him and our goal is to make it the same for our girls. It’s ONE day out of 365 that is yours. To celebrate just you.

Birthdays always make me think. Deeply. And a lot. Probably too much (it’s a flaw of mine).

Birthdays – without even trying to – show you who truly loves you.
Who truly remembers your day and who truly believes it’s important to tell you that.

There are people who are a part of my daily life - like my mother and my mother-in-law – who have never once missed my day. There are other people who l literally don’t see or speak to all year but on my birthday – they send a text or email or card. Every year. One day a year – they never forget…even without a Facebook reminder.

You can say it’s not important. But it is.

Think about it. Do you know a person who has been crushed because someone forgot their day? I do. Many, many people who say that it doesn’t matter but if you ask them – what they remember out of all the birthdays in their life….is often not who remembered them….but who forgot them.

As a kid I had Godparents who never, ever missed my birthday. I had a brother whose Godparents never remembered…and it hurt him – deeply. As a kid it matters more. I hoped and prayed I’d never have to deal with that with my own kids…but I do. Some family members will never miss my girl’s birthdays…others will never remember.

It matters.

As an adult, it’s never been about the gifts…just the remembering. My two brothers both made a point to contact me and that’s more than enough. My Dad sent me an email. I don’t need anything else.

My sister is different in that for her she needs to give gifts. I lost my Bible in the flood that took my parent’s home a few years ago. I didn’t actually physically lose it. The truth is that I have it, wrapped in plastic bag – covered in mud and dirt. It’s not use-able. So my sister? Bought me a beautiful pink leather Bible with a daily devotion in it and it’s made specifically for busy moms. She bought me beautiful page markers and a special pen for writing in it. Now no – I’m not an avid Bible reader – but having one in my house…matters. My sister knew what my old one meant to me. The new one means just as much.

An aunt called. Someone put my name on the local radio station. People sent cards. Others left loving messages on my FB wall. Every single method was precious to me.

Rambo brought my birthday gift into the house a few days early. He and the girls couldn’t wait until the actual day to give it to me. They covered it with a blanket and were giggling so hard they almost peed their pants.

The backstory is that there is a guy whose house I drive by every day on the way to the sitter’s house. This guy carved a morel mushroom out of a tree and made it into his mailbox. It is unique and gorgeous and other people agree since they’ve tried to steal it multiple times. If Rambo is in the car with me – every single time – I have said, “God, I want that mushroom.”

Beyond it’s unique-ness and beauty – I have memories that run deep with mushrooms. Around here they sell for sometimes more than $30 a pound and the season lasts only a few weeks and you have to go out into the deep woods and hunt them for hours and they are hard to find.

My Dad was the kind of guy who would go out for the whole day and come home with bags full of them. He could find them sometimes weeks before the average person could. He had a knack for seeing them. He’d eat a few and sell the rest. You either love to eat them or hate them.

Turns out I loved them. And I loved going out in the woods with him more. My brothers weren’t interested and didn’t really care to eat them. Neither did my mom. It was a tiny bond I had with him.

Every chance I got for those few weeks every year, I’d go out in the woods with him. I’d seriously step right on a damn mushroom and my Dad would have to say, “Um – you just stepped on one.” I sucked at finding them so when I did my heart would soar and I knew he was proud that his kid could hunt shrooms.

We’d come home and eat them. Together.

Now my role in the shrooming is that I sell the bags for him at work every year. It’s still a connection. It’s still something we can actually talk about. It’s still something we both love.

Rambo hunts them for me now so I have some to eat. He knows I’m obsessed with them. Some day – when I can wrap my head around it – I’ll get a mushroom tattoo. I tried once and couldn’t go through with it. Too many demons I haven’t made peace with yet in other aspects of my relationship with my Dad.

I have tons of ceramic, wooden, glass and plastic mushrooms in my landscaping. Ones that look exactly like morels and others that are bright and full of color. They are everywhere. Like I said – obsessed.

Unbeknownst to me, back in June, Rambo went to that guy’s house in the country who has the morel mailbox. He asked the guy if he’d make me a morel if Rambo cut down the tree for it. This guy doesn’t sell the morels. He just makes them for fun and gives them to his family and friends…but he said yes. He told Rambo what kind of tree he’d need and Rambo cut it down and took it to him.

The morel is over 3 feet tall. And it’s gorgeous.

Rambo led me into the kitchen with my eyes closed . I pulled the blanket off and just stood there while my little girls jumped up and down like jelly beans.

I couldn’t speak for a few seconds. Then I couldn’t stop crying. I couldn’t stop asking, “How did you get this?” (Yes – I’m completely aware it makes me insane that I cried over a damn wooden mushroom. Sue me.)

I later spoke to the man who did the work and told him it’s not just a mushroom to me and I could hear the pride in his voice that he could give such a gift to a random person he’d never met. I tried to tell him what it meant to me but it was hard to put into words. (Clearly I love this thing immensely in that I actually spoke to a stranger on the phone. Hello HIVES!)

He said he makes tiny hand-carved ones that are only an inch tall and I begged him to consider selling me one so I could give it to my Dad.

I took multiple pictures of the shroom and put them on FB and in just one picture – there is a an ORB. I don’t know whose spirit it is…but I’m not even surprised that it appeared.

It’s a piece of wood that my husband cut out of the woods and another man carved into a shape. It is also one of the most important, most prized items that I own…though most will never know why.

What matters is that I know. And Rambo knows. And a guy who I’ve never met knows. My mom knows and so does my Dad. I think my siblings know. (and now you all know!)

Birthdays rock. Most of mine have never really been just birthdays. They’ve been way more.

Made that way by the people in my life who have never forgotten.

Sometimes it’s a word, an email, a card, a text, a Bible or a mushroom with shitloads of meaning behind it.

What really matters is the not forgetting.

I have no problem admitting that it’s a big deal to me. That might seem childish or selfish or just dumb when there are so many who say, “meh…my birthday is just another day in the year”….

I think that those people have never been to Care Bear Land.
If they had…they’d never think of it as “just another day”.

I say celebrate your “you day”. The Universe and God made it yours….
...and you are worth the celebration.

In fact, I think that you’re worth the celebration every single day.

It’s just that on your BIRTHday…you have permission to DOUBLE the celebration!

I say eat it up. The celebration AND the cake, of course.

Friday, October 19, 2012

Friday's Hugs and Shanks!

To the bloggers who put it all out there - IWTHU. Real pain and pure joy from their core. With no filter. Even when they can’t hide behind anonymity like I do. Bloggers like Kelly and Lori and LB...whom I love and admire and am honored to call my friends.

IWTSU – Prison inmate assholes. Rambo had a rough day on Tuesday. Word got out that a bunch of inmates were planning a HUGE riot and their main goal wasn’t to escape or anything like that. The goal was to hurt as many guards as possible. So Rambo and the other guards spent most of the day searching for shanks and info on the riot. FML.

To the inmates who ratted out the other inmates who were planning the riots – IWTHU . Thank God for snitches and rats on the inside.

Forgive me for saying this every week but still – gas prices…IWTSU. For realz.

To the rain that keeps coming down…IWTHU. You make me as happy as a Skittle bath.

To the 24 hours in a day, every day – IWTSU. You’re not enough. I’m sorry but you’re just not. I can’t get everything done on my list AND watch reedick amounts of trashy tv at the same time. Geez.

To the SIX baskets of laundry in my bedroom and the piles on my bed and floor that I have yet to put away…IWTSU. I’d rather buy all new clothes than deal with you. F*ckbuckets, I hate you so.

Weekend of bliss at a college football game and sleeping in with Rambo – IWTHU. Over and over again. You are BETTER than a Skittle bath in a house full of Care Bears.

Anyone you want to shank or hug this week?

Thursday, October 18, 2012

Ten Things Thursday!

1 – I heard on the radio in the last few days or so that Cmas is 75 days away or something reedick like that. Meh – I’m fine with that. Rambo and I have the same philosophy on Cmas in that it’s way too commercialized and kids have no idea what it’s really about so we’ve never really gone nuts over it. We buy for our girls and not many others and we tell everyone we know not to get us anything either. We try to focus on traditions and memories and events more than the gifts. Anywhoozle, my point was that it’s coming soon – and therefore – this is another legitimate reason to start another colorful list. Whoop whoop!

2 – It’s been raining the last few days here and I love that. Rain is my favorite weather forecast. I don’t even care if it rains for the college football game I’m going to Saturday. I bought a new, distressed, trucker hat for that exact reason…and the bonus is that I don’t have to do my hair.

3 – I loathe with a passion any expense having to do with cars or vehicles or bikes. It drives me batty. So when Rambo told me last night that we’ll be getting 4 new tires on my SUV – I kicked him in the balls. Well – I wanted to anyway. Seriously. 4 SUV tires can cost from $500 to $1000. Does he have any idea how many shoes and purses and shit that would buy? For realz. I can’t wear tires. I told him I’d get a new SUV next year if he let me not get new tires on the one I have this year. Told him there was no point in putting new tires on a car I was going to get rid of in a few months. I think he knew I was lying. I don’t care if I ever get a new car. I’m over new cars. Had a few when I was younger and vain and gave a shit about things like that but now – I’m all about driving things until they die rather than making a car payment the size of a house payment.

4 - I’m super focused lately and it’s kind of fun in comparison to slacking off the last few months. In the 2 PT jobs, it’s budget forecasting and pay raise time and maybe even internal audit time and I’m so ahead of the game – I even shock myself. Usually I just put it off until I can’t but lately – I’m kicking ass and it feels good. It doesn’t happen often so please allow me to brag about it.

5 – Yesterday I was productive as hell and when I got home I took a huge, long bath and then went downstairs and tanned and turned down ice cream when my girls were having it. Followed that up with a little politics TV watching in bed with Rambo and slept all night. I felt like a real, alive, bonafide woman and human all day and night. Chronic migraines and an inability to sleep or de-stress keeps me wired usually but yesterday – was magic. Care Bear Land fo sho.

6 – Yesterday I bought a truck. A brand new one. Beautiful full-size, white, Dodge Ram. I wrote out the check in full and paid for it with my little signature. I mean it’s not MY truck technically because I bought it for the plant manager that I clerk for in the PT job. Still – it was damn fun to walk in and pick out a truck and then buy it and leave with it. 4 years ago when Rambo and I took over managing the plant, there wasn’t enough money to pay the electricity bill without borrowing from other villages and taking out loans – no lie. But yesterday? We bought a truck. Paid in full. I could have bought and paid for quite a few trucks…and that feels pretty damn good.

7 – I can’t wait for Thanksgiving. Cuz I love turkey. And paid days off work…even more than turkey.

8 – Watermelon is back to school today. Must have been a 24 hour bug, thank God.

9 – Banana says her teacher is “dumb” because “she always “corrects my papers and circles what I do wrong”. Um yah – it’s pretty clear that Banana doesn’t understand what teachers “do”. Eeesh.

10 – I have 3 cousin weddings next year. Operation “I cannot be the fattest cousin in the room – lose 20 pounds cuz I’m a heifer” will be starting soon. Why no – it does not matter that all my cousins are size 0s no matter how much they eat and only work 1 job or none and have no kids so they can live at the gym if they want. I have every right to compare myself to them. It’s not sane by any means but itsahappenin. I’m making a plan. Have no fear. (Do not be mad at me for calling myself a heifer.  In our house, heifer is a term of endearment.  We use it alllll the time in a joking manner.)

Wednesday, October 17, 2012

Bush trouble...but not like you think.

Sometimes I have the maturity of an 11 year old boy.

Take for instance yesterday – at work. I was walking back from the kitchen when a guy I work with started walking with me. He leans in and says to me, with a smile, “Is that bush giving you any trouble lately?”

What the holy f*ck did you just ask me?

Then I remembered we work with a guy whose last name is Bush. So he meant bush as in that guy with the last name of Bush – not bush as in the slang word an 11 year old boy uses for vagina.

I stammered out my reply of “Um no…no Bush trouble here.” “How’s your dick doing?” Or something like that. It was extremely hard not to giggle

Kind like it was hard not to giggle when the OPrez outright openly lied about Libya last night. Or wouldn’t answer how much he’d cut licenses and permits (62% by the way). Or how you can’t dispute that gas was $1.86 a gallon and it’s now over $4.00 a gallon.

I was waiting for Big Bird to make an appearance and show both of them a thing or two about playing nice and how not to interrupt people but instead we just got a moderator who backed the O up with a lie. How sweet and fair.

It’s been a long day already because in the middle of the night, Banana tapped me and said, “Mama, Watermelon is awake and sitting by the toilet.”

I got up and went in and there sat Banana rubbing Watermelon’s back as she hung over the toilet. I told her to go back to bed – that I could get it from here….even though I was thinking about running. Far, far away.

Just 2 days and counting before Rambo and I go to the college football game on Saturday. I have my face and nail tattoos and clothes all ready. Then Sunday is my birthday and Rambo will NOT shut up about my present. I’d like to poke his eyes out because I hate surprises.

I did however, find out, that his old home football jersey is available - so I’ll be wrapping that up for him as a surprise for his birthday in November. And since he turns 40, I will be thinking of something embarrassing to put in our yard on a big ‘ol piece of plywood so people honk when they go by. That’ll teach him to surprise me.

Happy Wednesday Skittles! See you tomorrow for TTT!

Monday, October 15, 2012

"Normal" weekends...

I seriously don’t know how normal families do normal weekends every weekend. The kind where the Mom and the Dad are home and so are the kids. Like from Friday to Sunday.

It’s effing exhausting. Good God in heaven – dare I say I’m used to Rambo being gone the whole weekend which also means: no makeup, no combing of hair, no shaving of legs, no getting out of my PJs, no talking to anyone but myself, and lots and lots of TV and catching up on the PT jobs.

It started Friday when I finally went in the semi with Rambo. I kid you not – we got up at 4am. My eyes are not legally programmed to open until at least after 6am or so – so for the first two hours I walked around with my eyes shut. No - really what happened was I got up and tried to look presentable at 4am (aka – putting a hat on my head so I didn’t have to do my hair) and hopped in the semi and then hopped into the sleeper and proceeded to SLEEP until at least the sun was up.

So in the semi at 4am and we finally left the farm at 5pm that night – only because I drug Rambo out of there. He wanted to stay the entire night and pick corn and I convinced him the second shift of guys had it covered.

I also want it noted that I ruined a pair of my cute pink Nike shoes by getting grease on them from my seat in the semi. Yes – I’m aware I should never have worn them in the first place but shove it – a girl has got to look cute no matter where she is, mkay? I was ONE girl around dozens of guys all day. I had to represent. I told Rambo’s boss he owes me new shoes and I’ll be submitting a receipt.

At one point when we were moving all the machinery to a new corn field, Rambo’s other boss asked me to drive a tractor because they had too many pieces of equipment and not enough drivers. When I found out the tractor I would be driving was worth about $350k – I promptly screamed HELL TO THE NO at the top of my lungs. Let’s be clear that I once WAS a farm girl but I am not anymore. Mkay?

Saturday Rambo took me to the Harley shop and our college football team store to buy some new duds for next week’s game. We stupidly went into a Halloween store too – thinking it’d be fun. Wrongzo. Wall to wall pissed off parents and crying and begging kids. We ran our asses out of there after we found our Hello Kitty birthday stuff for Banana.

We were supposed to go home from there and have a romantic evening. We had an evening but it wasn’t romantic. The guys from the farm called and begged us to have a drink with them. You and I both know one drink is NOT possible with farm boys who have been pulling 20 hour shifts for about a month. They work hard and they play harder. It was raining – therefore they couldn’t be in the fields – therefore they were forced to take a down day – therefore beer comes into play.

We got to the bar at about 6pm and the boys had been there since noon. Yah – um – they were slightly inebriated by the time we got there. And? Five hours later we finally left. Jesus, Joseph and Mary – I’m too old for this shit. Luckily, Rambo didn’t get drunk. He had his beers and his buzz and he was happy. It was fun but way past my bed time and so not the original plan I had.

Sunday we slept in until the last possible moment and picked up the girls. We took Banana and two of her friends to a kid’s party place for her birthday all day. Later family came over for cake.

THEN – 18 bazillion hours later than planned – I worked on shit I had no time for until then. Timesheets and payroll and the like. An hour of TV with the family and it was already time to prep lunches and outfits and all that crap for this morning…in between coloring my hair you know.

I’ve been at work an hour and I think this is the first time I’ve felt relaxed since Thursday night. LOL Being a real, normal, present family takes a shitload of time and effort, doesn’t it?

I mean it’s the closest thing to bliss but I need a freaking nap already.

Also – I’d like to note – men in tractors and semis in jeans and boots working their asses off doing manual labor – IS HOT. I’m just sayin’…

How was your weekend?

Thursday, October 11, 2012

Ten Things Thursday - Drazzie Style!

1 – I love fall – however – I do not love fall-colored M&Ms. I’m not into rusty oranges, mustard yellows, maroons and browns. No. Just no. I want to eat M&Ms that are either neon colors or the standard happiness colors of blues, greens, reds and bright yellows. I mean sure…I’ll take one for the team and suffer through and eat the fall-colored ones but I’m just sayin’ – it’s not my preference.

2 – I am deathly afraid of falling head first into a new addiction. Wanna know what it is? It’s embarrassing but here goes. It’s Hello Kitty. Yes – I am apparently 6 years old. But still – come on. She draws me in with her stupid grin and the crisp white and pink colors and the cute stuff she is on from toothbrushes to purses to socks to underwear. I am justifying it by saying that for me it’s just convenience really. When I go shopping for my 7 year old in the Hello Kitty section – I can also shop for myself. It’s that two birds one stone thingy.

3 – I didn’t get to ride in the semi last week with Rambo so I’m doing it tomorrow if the daycare sitch works out. Let it be known that for the first 4 or so hours of the trip – yours truly will be occupying the bed in the back. Naps in the backs of semis are divine if you’ve never had one. I am not passing up that opportunity.

4 – Rambo has the second half of Saturday off from the prison and the farm and his community stuff and so do I so we’re going to a Harley Davidson dealer a couple hours away that is having huge giveaways and food tasting and is hosting a college football game. (Jesus – run on sentence much?) They are even having a salon doing pink hair extensions for breast cancer awareness. I am so getting pink-i-fied. Rambo doesn’t know it yet but I made arrangements for our kids to stay at the sitter’s overnight so we have the whole day, night and next morning to sleep in and do whatevah we want. I’m so excited I could pee in my Hello Kitty underwear.

5 – Sunday we are celebrating our 7 year old’s birthday early. Guess what kind of cake I’m having made for her? Ayup. Hello Kitty.

6 – For the newly turned 7 year old – she would like her room painted pink and a Hello Kitty mural on her walls. Shit on a stick. I tried to tell her that I can’t draw that for her but she knows better. I’ve drawn way too many pictures and murals and words on our walls over the years for her to think I can’t draw a white cat. Being artistic and crafty is a curse I tell you. I don’t know how Martha Stewart deals with it.

7 – I’m only working until noon today so I can go shopping and I think I might even continue this whole “domestic” thing (minus the laundry - I'm so over that already) I got going on and make Rambo’s favorite lasagna. We have our 12 year old’s last volleyball game and watching SOA on tap for tonight after I do payroll. I be sooo excited.

8 – On my shopping list today is NEON socks. I’m a child of the 80s so any time I get to touch, see, buy or feel anything neon – I’m in paradise. Around here – in Watermelon’s class – the “in” thing is to wear moccasin/loafer type shoes with crazy ass neon socks showing. Well – you can bet your ass I’m going to go nuts buying them today…if only to re-live the happiest era of my life. God – I miss the big hair days.

9 – Remember last week when I told you that it was Homecoming and the students in our school were supposed to wear school colors on Friday? And that I remembered that I had Rambo’s old football jerseys and I gave them to my girls to wear and they were so ecstatic about it?

Well, that was his practice jersey and his away game jersey. I just found out that our current football team got all new jerseys sooooo the old HOME GAME jerseys are being sold or thrown out. Yah – Rambo heard about it too and is dying to get his old home game jersey back. Like dying.

Anyway – I have done some scheming and have talked to the girl who is looking to see if Rambo’s old jersey is available. I told her that if she finds it – to let me know – but to tell Rambo that his is gone. I’ll wrap it up for his birthday as a surprise. He thinks he’s the only one that can plan birthday surprises and rub it in…but he ain’t. Rambo turns 40 this year and I’m thinking of putting a huge sign in our yard that says, “HONK – THE MAYOR IS 40 TODAY!!!” That’ll teach him to plan birthday surprises for me.

10 – Our family finally entered this century and got wireless internet this week. I can’t remember what Watermelon looks like because she hasn’t put down her ipod since then. Rambo doesn’t care because he’s sitting in the office watching the Netflix I so stupidly got him. Wait until Watermelon finds out I got her a new laptop with a huge screen that should be arriving tomorrow. She’s going to shit her ever-loving pants. Good thing she doesn’t wear Hello Kitty ones because that would be a tragedy. She’ll now be required to put down the ipod and do online skills testing for school on the laptop. Score 1 for Mom.

Tuesday, October 9, 2012

Feeling useless blows.

Have I mentioned that parenting blows? I mean there are some days when I’d rather have lunch with Casey Anthony than feel my heart crack within my chest over and over and over again.

It’s not all about being a parent…it’s about being an adult too.

Let me try to explain.

Last night my 12 year old, Watermelon, texted me to ask me if her and her friend M could come over because M needed to talk to me.

Warning bells started ringing. Loudly. When a child says they “need to talk”…it’s usually never good. The last time I heard that it ended with a call to CPS and it changed who I am forever.

So M comes over and we’re talking and I ask her how school is going and I see tears start to well up in her eyes. She starts telling me about how rumors are going around that she had sex with a boy in the bathroom or something. She was crying at school. She said Watermelon stuck up for her and told everyone it wasn’t true. Her other friends did the same.

I did the best I could. I told her it sounds like there were many kids who stuck up for her and know it’s not true. I told her even if every kid in the school had believed the rumor – that in her heart – she knows what she did and did not do. I told her to focus on and stay around the kids who have her back. Her and Watermelon and other girls went to the guidance counselor and talked with her about it too. They got through the day but it just sucked.

The whole time I wanted to scream, “Have you talked to your own mother about this??” But I already knew the answer. She wouldn’t have been in my house if she had.

I also told her that this will not be the last time rumors will start. It happens. It’s part of school, in my opinion. I told her that I dated Rambo since I was 15 and the whole school assumed and always said I was having sex with him – and I wasn’t. I told M that my own brother started most of those rumors and continued them because back then my brother hated me. There was nothing I could do except know the truth in my own heart. I told her I continually told everyone I wasn’t doing that and eventually people believed me. I told her that some people just suck and are assholes. There will always be those who start rumors….all throughout life.

She seemed to be comforted by the fact that it happens to everyone and that we survive it.

Did I say the right thing? The wrong thing? Help or hinder? I HAVE NO EVER LOVING IDEA! I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again – I want a damn kid/parenting/adult manual. Like yesterday.

I thought that was it until Watermelon whispered something in M’s ear and said, “Do you want to tell her?” Oh shit. I told myself - brace yourself Mama – more shit is coming your way.

M shakes her head yes – that she wants to tell me more. She starts to tell me that her mom is always drunk. That when she is drunk she says things like she never cared about M, that she doesn’t care if M goes to live somewhere else, that M never does anything she is supposed to, that M is always gone, that M is a liar. The usual things drunks say. M’s step-dad is never home (working) so he’s not really a factor. And he’s a step-dad…and she misses her real dad…who has no contact or relationship with her.

She’s hurting. Badly. She’s begging some adult to just be consistent and love her. She’s barely holding back tears. She said “I don’t know what to do.”

I asked if she tried talking to her mom about it and she said, “I’m scared to.” I told her I’d do it with her if that would help….all the while secretly hoping she wouldn’t actually want me to do that.

I just started pulling shit out of my ass then. I considered yelling for Rambo to come in and rescue me but instead I said things like:

Your mom does love you. When she says she doesn’t care – that’s the beer talking. None of this is your fault. Ever. Addiction is strong and she doesn’t want to say those things and she doesn’t mean them…it’s the addiction talking. Tell her you’ll help her get help and you don’t want to grow up like this. Tell her you know it’s wrong and you’re scared for your little brother. I know she loves you. She doesn’t want to be doing any of this or hurting you – but the addiction is stronger than she is right now.

She said, “Can I stay here tonight? I don’t want to go back there when she’s drunk.”

I told her it was fine with me. Meanwhile Watermelon pipes up and says, “Mom, can M come live here with us? Her Mom said she didn’t care where M lived.”

Ugh. I tried to say the words but I couldn’t look my kid in the eye and tell her I can’t just take someone else’s kid. It’s never as simple as that.

I told M not to tell her mom she’d told me about this because her mom may get mad and embarrassed. She agreed.

Her mom ended up saying M had to come home but she could stay and watch a movie with us. I will tell you that for the first time in a long time – as the night went on normally – I felt guilty for having a happy family. How shitty is that? I gave some mother with an addiction the power to make me feel guilty for being happy.

We ate supper. Warmed up leftover pizza. Laughed. Talked about the day. Got on PJs and got out the big fluffy blankets and put in a movie. We all snuggled.

And I watched M watch us and be a part of us and I knew it hurt her to see a normal family night. She was happy to be with us but I know she was sad…and I felt guilty for that.

Before she left, I hugged her. Though she’s not used to it and I felt her want to pull away quickly – I held on. She let me hold her and I felt her hold on to me. As I held her I said again that this is not her fault ever. That her mom loves her. That she just needs help. That she has people who love her and she is always welcome here and I’m always here to talk. That she’s not alone. That we’ll fix this somehow…knowing the whole time I could be lying. It may never get fixed. It may never get better. *sigh*

As I talked I could hear her start to cry and feel her shake.

I wanted to walk my ass over to her mom’s house and rip the beer from her hands and shake her. I want to scream at her and tell her to look at her daughter and the pain in her eyes and the beauty in her face that is marred by tears.

But I have no right. I don’t know the back story or the mother’s past pain or reasons. The only thing I know is the pain I saw in M. And the fear I feel for her and the absolute feeling of helplessness I feel in this situation.

I don’t really want to know her mom’s reasons. I’m pretty sure if she told me that I’d be nothing but a judgemental, sanctimonious, asshole and stand there and think that no reason on earth is good enough. And that wouldn’t help anyone.

I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Part of me knows there’s nothing I can do. It’s not my fight. Not my daughter’s fight. None of my business.

I had to fight every urge in my body not to scoop M up and say that’s it – you’re never going home again – you’ll stay right here and I’ll love you back to believing in the good in life.

I went to bed plotting in my head about how I could move things around in my house to give her her own bedroom. It’s poppycock. Crap. It ain’t happening.

God, how I wish I could fix this. Watermelon and M also told me they talked with another girl classmate about this.

Wanna know what that little girl said?

She said, “I know how you feel. That’s how it is every night at my house too.”

I know that girl’s mom too and I know she’s telling the truth too.

I also know both of these mothers would walk through fire for their kids. I know they love their daughters dearly.

It’s just not the message they are sending.

And it’s heartbreaking to watch.

I’m trying to just remain grateful that M let me in and wanted to talk about it with me. I’m happy she trusts me and knows she has somewhere to go on bad nights.

I’m grateful she let me hold her while my Watermelon could only sit and watch.

It’s all I can literally do. And that just sucks.

Like outright blows.

What I really want to know is - is there any parent, mom, dad, man or woman on Earth - who instantly knows the right answers in situations like these?  I just feel....useless, you know?

Monday, October 8, 2012

Just hand me the tiara.

You know those cute southern names like Bobby Jo and Mary Sue or Susie Ray? Well….this weekend for one day I changed my name to Martha Betty….which is a combination of Martha Stewart and Betty Crocker. And yes – I’m quite aware that Martha Betty doesn’t roll off the tongue like Maggie May but you’re just gonna have to get over that and get on board with it.

Work with me here, okay?

It’s all Rambo’s fault anyway (as usual). He is still working his ass off but still managing to bring me home ginormous bags of M&Ms and I feel really guilty and grateful so I went into super-wife mode.

Get this.

I did 4 loads of laundry this weekend. That’d be four more than I’ve done in say…um…well quite some time. At one point when Rambo finally came home, I swallowed my pride and outright asked him which dryer setting I was supposed to be using instead of continuing to guess. I got the whole “be sure to clean out the lint trap” lecture. Geez – he acts like I’ve never done this before.
I’d like to note that I even folded the towels this weekend. Let’s not talk about how I couldn’t manage to walk 5 feet to the towel cupboard and put them away and about how they are still sitting on the top of the dryer. Let’s focus on how they are in pretty, folded piles, mkay?

Then? I cooked a freaking ham people. Like put in a pan with a lid into the oven for a long period of time kind of ham. Like you’d think it was Thanksgiving ham.

With said ham, I then proceeded to cut up real potatoes from the ground instead of getting them out of a bag in the freezer, and made scalloped potatoes and ham. Because I love Rambo so much – I even held my breath while I cut up a huge onion to put in the crockpot since he loves onions. Me? Blech. Can’t stand ‘em. But I’m telling you – my love runs deep.

For good measure, I made chocolate chip muffins for my kids.
For just a second, I felt like June Cleaver, you know?  I was seriously contemplating putting on an apron for about a minute until I came back to my senses and realized the only apron
I have didn't go with the outfit I had on.

After that I went downstairs and got out the Halloween totes. I decorated our front porch with scary shit and then decorated our entire fireplace with green, orange and purple lights and pumpkins and sunflower garland and a bunch of other fun shit like that. I even got out a mini Cmas tree and decorated it with orange tinsel and pumpkins for ornaments.

Eat your heart out Martha Stewart.
Your underwear might match your toe nail polish but do you have a
green fluorescent pumpkin on your fireplace?
I think not.

I’m not even done. Rambo is a huge TV addict.
He can come home from a 20 hour day and be dead on his feet and if he sits down and finds a gory horror movie on – he’ll stay up to watch it. He has a knack for finding thee absolute dumbest, bloodiest, most violent, most ridiculous plotted movie out of hundreds of channels. He is a freak. He constantly watches insane movies and constantly buys the dumb things on DVD.

So I decided to sign up for Netflix. It’s probably the dumbest thing I’ve ever done because now I’ll never get his attention ever again but I couldn’t help it. He was working a double shift at the prison and I felt a moment of guilt and hit the BUY button.

Honestly – after all that – are you ready to give me the Wife of the Year award?
Wait, don’t answer that yet.

I forgot to tell you that I even read two books to my kid last night.
And I managed not to lock her in a closet.

Does that sway you in the right direction?
Now you wanna give me the award AND a tiara, right?

Friday, October 5, 2012

Friday's Hugs and Shanks!

To my calendar/planner that is absolutely blank for both Saturday and Sunday – IWTHU. I realize both spots won’t stay blank long but for now it’s exactly how I want it to be.

To Rambo – for not getting rid of his high school football jersies – IWTHU. This morning I surprised both of my girls with a jersey each of Rambo’s that he actually wore in high school. Banana got the practice jersey and Watermelon got the game jersey. They were both swimming in them so we had to tie them in the back but they looked so cute. I sent a picture to Rambo in the semi this morning and I think his heart swelled out of his chest and I don’t think my girls stopped smiling all morning. I’m pretty sure I’ll never get either of those jersies back.

Coach cell phone case – IWTSU. Why must you be the only one out of the billions of cell phone cases that I love and that matches my purse exactly? Just why? Now I’m forced to choose between buying enough orange Kit Kats to feed everyone in Ethiopia or one cell phone case.

To five FULL days of getting to school on the bus with NO TEARS – IWTHU. Holy cricket turds! Can you guys believe this? I mean who is the little girl I live with and what have you done with my real daughter? I have no idea what threat motivational words or events compelled her to stop acting like a child on crack each morning but praise Jesus and his pets and the dirt beneath his sandals…every day is soooo much better when it starts with smiles.

Gas prices – IWTSU. Honestly. This is getting redonkulous.

To the girl that I know that works for cash under the table and therefore pays no taxes and doesn’t have to report her income so she can still get unemployment money while she gets child support from her 3 different baby daddies but still can’t make rent and tried to sell her food stamps for half the value for cash – IWTSU. (holy run on sentence) Hard – about 50 times. You are what is wrong with this country. You make my blood boil. Shanking you would be wicked fun. It’s a good thing that I don’t even know what you look like because I’d be forced to make snotty faces at you at the very least.

To the 30mph winds and near freezing temps that are supposed to occur tonight – IWTHU. Due to the “inclement” weather, I have decided not to attend the football game tonight. After watching our team be up by 55 points before half-time last week – I have no desire to watch that again. The team we play this week is supposed to be worse than last week’s and after a while I just felt terrible for the other team. Plus it’ll be cold. And my house is warm. And I have shitloads of great TV DVR’d.

Have a good weekend Skittles! Oh and tell me your hugs and shanks of the week!

Thursday, October 4, 2012

Ten Things Thursday!

1 – Today is day 4 of no tears for my Banana going to school. You better believe I’m farting gumdrops nonstop as a result of this. As a reward, we have promised to get her a Hello Kitty alarm clock. She’s young enough to think an alarm clock is a fun thing so I’m anxiously waiting the day when she realizes that in reality, they are a lot like extended families. You hate them but you need them at the same time and slamming your fist into them feels really good. Multiple times.

2 – For the first time in my life yesterday, I tried talking someone out of a tattoo. It’s kind of hard to do or hard for the other person to take me seriously when I’m almost covered in the damn things. But she’s 18 and she’s getting a matching tattoo with her best friend. She hates needles and is getting it right above her crotch line which is a realllly painful spot and I don’t trust the artist she picked. Like I said, she’s 18 so she didn’t listen to a word I said. She’s getting the tat.

3 – This week is homecoming in Podunk. Our entire town AND the school is toilet-papered. Gotta love community spirit. Now it will rain. Toilet-papering the town is like 90 medicine men doing the rain dance for 6 days. It’s just asking for rain. Karma can’t resist.

4 – Rambo and I and another couple are going to see a live musical of the Cmas movie Scrooge next month at a beautiful theatre that serves dinner beforehand. Years ago for my bday, Rambo told me to get dressed up and we got in the car and he didn’t tell me where we were going. When we got to where we were going, we sat down to a 7 course meal, a personalized bday cake and a Cmas musical that was tear-jerking. Rambo hates Cmas so for him to do that for me was huge. And now we’re going back – billions of years later. And there’s an outlet mall close by and a craft show. Do not worry about little Rambo – I will make it up to him. Besides, if you tortured him enough – he’d probably admit he loves that shit.

5 – Did you watch the debate? I did not. I believe it’s important but Rambo was actually home for a solid 2 hours last night so we spent time together as a family. I’ve made up my mind already. Sometimes I discuss and read too much on politics daily so for me, the debate wasn’t going to give me any new info. This morning I read about 10+ opinion columns regarding the debate from all sides – Dem, Rep and Inds. Even libs and conservatives. They seem to all be favoring Romney – some by a little, some by a lot. I think you all know by now how that makes me feel. It’s not over though. Not by a long shot. This is going to be one tight race.

6 – Forgive me but one more thing politically. Did you hear about the woman from Illinois who gave a speech that has since been put on YouTube and gone viral? To quote her - she said this: “Let me get this straight. We are going to be gifted with a health care plan that we are forced to purchase, and fined if we don’t, signed by a president who smokes, with funding administered by a treasury chief who didn't pay his taxes, by a government which has already bankrupted Social Security and Medicare, all to be overseen by a surgeon general who is obese, and financed by a country that’s broke.” Kudos to her speech writer. Brilliant run on sentence if you ask me.  That woman's resume is astounding if you get a chance to read it.

7 – I mentioned that Rambo was actually home for 2 hours last night above. While this makes me ecstatic…the reason he is home is just depressing. It’s because the crops are so bad around here due to the drought. In an entire day of 2 combines picking hundreds of acres – Rambo hauled four loads of corn. There just isn’t anything to harvest. Friends of ours that usually harvest through November are done already. The guy Rambo works for is half done already and he has thousands upon thousands of acres. He is losing $14 a head per pig hauled due to the cost of feeding them. He is almost 250,000 bushels short this year so he’s out millions. Thank God for insurance…but still…the fallout will be big.

8 – Even though I’m doing LauraBelle’s TTT, I want to point out that I am mad at her. She posted on her FB last night about how the orange Kit Kats are addicting and there’s something in the orange color that makes them taste better (I think they add meth). Remember my white Kit Kat addiction? The one where I would sometimes eat 4 regular size bars a day? THAT is how it started. By eating one tiny orange Halloween Kit Kat. When Halloween was over, I could barely function without the orange ones so I moved on to white ones. I recently kicked that addiction. Until now. All I can think about are orange Kit Kats . LB – you are a snotlicker. My ever-expanding ass is all your fault.

9 – I found an old weight loss hypnosis CD this week and started listening to it. Oh stop laughing. If it helps me to shove only 20 Doritoes in my mouth versus the whole bag, then YAY me! I have no idea if the weight loss part works but for me – hypnosis, and counting and body part visualization and the relaxing tone of voice – helps me fall asleep faster. Sleep is hard to come by for me so when I find something that works…I use it. (PS - I haven't had Doritoes since I started listening to it!)

10 – It’s October 4th and I’m seriously seconds away from putting a Cmas CD in to listen to in my office today. Eeesh.

Wednesday, October 3, 2012

I Wish Wednesday...

I wish…that my office was in a building all by itself so that when a good song comes on I could sing along. Loudly. And off key. Maybe even dance a little.

I wish…that it was Friday. (shocker, I know) I have decided to take the day off and ride in the semi with Rambo all day. He doesn’t know yet because I haven’t decided for sure because I think it might require me to get up at 3am. Seriously – never doubt my love for this man again. Thank green grasshopper dicks that there is a bed in his semi or this mama wouldn’t be contemplating such a surprise.

I wish…that I was Martha Stewart’s twin sister…except I would be the hot, skinny one. I’m going to attempt to sick up and bling up a distressed trucker hat I bought with rhinestone crosses and graffiti lettering (cuz I’m cheap and the one I really want is like $70 online – FOR A HAT). If it works out I may attempt to do the same with a pair of pants that I ride on the Harley. Martha’s Stewart’s ability to know exactly how to do such a thing without making it look like my 7 year old did it would sure come in handy.

I wish...that I had the emotional stamina and patience to actually watch the debate tonight. However, after hearing yesterday even more shit about how and why our men were killed in Libya and what and when the current administration knew what it did…I just can’t even handle the sound of Obama’s voice right now. It won’t change my vote. It’ll just be a few hours of my life I can’t get back.

I wish…there was a job where the only thing I had to do all day was write in my planner with pretty colored Sharpies, use more funky stickers, and cross things off my to do list. Those three things to me are like my meth…but way cheaper. And way less illegal.

I wish…this wasn’t quarter end for job #2 and #3. It’s annoying and the constant balls to the wall makes me pissy. Actually I take that back. I thrive on deadlines and updating spreadsheets and organizing all of that within my other daily life duties. It’s only the 3rd and I’m nearly done with all the quarterly shit that began on the 1st. Sometimes I even impress myself.

I wish…you all knew how much your comments about Banana and her having trouble getting to school meant to me. I’d like to report that today is Day 3 with NO tears!! Praise Jesus, right?

Your turn. Got any wishes today?

Tuesday, October 2, 2012

Cheaters wear ugly robot necklaces.

Soooo – Rambo and I are dealing with that whole issue of our 7 year old wanting to do anything but go to school in the morning. The sobbing starts at night. Heart-wrenching ugly cry sobs that I start to hear randomly about 5 minutes after bedtime. I tell myself to ignore it. That she has to learn how to deal with her fears and emotions.

That lasts for all of 30 seconds. I mean honestly – your heart would have to be made of stone to be able to not go in there and talk her down.

Last week, Rambo and I had multiple very adult-like conversations with her after Thursday’s debacle of finally having to have Rambo’s military father get her and take her to school. We made it very clear that we understand her fears but we have to conquer them together and that we believe she can do it.

Again, the Grandpa debacle was Thursday morning. The talks were Thursday night. Friday morning the angels sang. Not a single tear and smiles all the way to school! Thank you, Jesus!!!

Sunday night comes the obligatory sobbing because school is in the morning. Then the mother who is at her wit’s end promising all sorts of things like “If you go to school without a fit, we’ll decorate for Halloween when you get home. I’ll take a bike ride with you. I’ll buy you a pony.”

Finally, I decide to lay with her so she calms down – hoping the extra loving will help all of this. I laid next to my little girl and stared at her tear-stained cheeks and her precious little closed eyes. I look down because I hear crumpling. There in her hand – squeezed with a death grip – is a picture of me and Rambo.

At this point I have no heart left. It’s gone. Bloody ruined and torn out by my own spawn, I tell you.

Rambo didn’t have to be in the semi until 7am this morning so that meant he was around before the girls and I got ready for school and work. I was secretly thanking God for that little gift of him starting 4 hours later than usual….his presence alone will let Banana know she cannot have a fit.

I was about half ready and going to get the girls up. I thought Rambo was in the shower. I walked into Banana’s room and there – on her tiny smaller than twin bed – was Rambo. All scrunched up so he fit – with Banana in his arms….talking to her softly, telling her it was time to get up.

God I love that man.

Some day when my girls own and read this blog – these are the things I want them to know about their father.

Anyway – that morning, she never shed a tear. Smiled the whole way to school. Helped pack her own lunch.

I was freaking living in CareBear Land. I was thinking of putting down roots there and even farting a few gumdrops for good measure.

Until about 3pm that is. I got an email from the teacher and the subject line just said “today”.


I feel I got catapulted out of Care Bear Land and into “one step forward – two steps back” land. And let me tell you – it sucks here.

You see, Banana had a spelling pre-test. They get a piece of paper and on the right are 10 words. On the left it is blank. The kids fold the paper down the middle and the teacher tells them the words and they try to write them down how they think they are spelled. When they are done – they unfold the paper – and self-correct and see if what they wrote matches the correct spelling on the right.

This was only their second time doing this since school started. My brilliant child didn’t know how to spell a word, so she just flipped the paper over and looked. Then I think she realized how easy that was and kept doing it.

My kid is a cheater. Double shitballs. (This is karma for not enrolling her in religious education classes.)

Anyway – the teacher saw her, caught her eye – and Banana immediately starts to cry knowing she did wrong. The teacher emailed me to tell me that Banana cheated. She has to stay in from recess. She has to also write an apology.

Great. This is going to make her want to go to school more than ever now.

Again…reason number fifty bazillion and one – why homeschooling sounds more appealing every day.

Rambo was pissed they put the correct words right in front of the kids – to almost taunt them. I guess it’s called “self-correcting”. I’m sure it’s teaching them self-control or how to get caught cheating or some damn thing. I told Banana to write the apology and move on. I told her I wasn’t even mad at her. Right or wrong – I just couldn’t make myself yell at her. I told her never to do it again but that was about it.

There was one fun thing though at the end of the school day among all this bullshit. We got Banana’s school pictures back. I remember on picture day it was a little bit of a teary morning and she was missing Rambo.

She put his old necklace from when he was a kid into her bookbag. Seriously people – this thing is so ugly. It’s a thick silver chain and it has a robot on it as a charm. The robot has red eyes or some damn thing and it’s big and bulky and not girly at all. Honestly – so ugly.

But it’s Rambo’s from when he was a little boy and she damn well knows it. (I often wonder why little boys would wear such things but I'm afraid to ask.)  I knew she took it to school with her that day. I was praying with everything in me that she didn’t put it on before picture time.

She did.

There it is – on her school pictures – forever and ever. The big ol’ silver, red-eyed robot. It almost looks like I planned it because her background is red so at least it coordinates.

Can you imagine what the guy taking pictures must have thought when my kid walked up to him? He probably tried to get her to take it off but she probably kicked him in the face for even mentioning it.

Rambo got home and I showed him. I said, “See what you’ve done to my precious baby’s pictures?”

He just smiled and said, “Oh yah, I see it.”

Imagine what all the relatives will say and think when they get her pictures in the mail.


Oh, I just got an email from the teacher saying Banana wrote a nice apology letter this morning for cheating. I wanted to ask who exactly she apologized to but I thought I better not. The spelling Gods? The teacher? The cheating Gods? The school?

It’s okay. She never even cried today either. I have a feeling it could be because big ol’ Rambo was in her bed this morning again to wake her up.

It’s not so surprising that she wears his ugly ass robot after all, is it?

Monday, October 1, 2012

The "Dammit. I missed church." Monday Edition.

I accidentally slept until noon on Sunday and missed church.

Had my large butt been in a pew and my small mind also been in attendance…my prayers would have went something like this:

Dear God…when my mom finds out that I didn’t sign my kids up for religious education classes, please let her screams of horror not wake the dead. Help her to understand it’s my choice and they’re my kids. Please don’t let her be disappointed in me.

Thank you God…for Banana getting on the bus to school tear-free at least one day last week. That whole “go to school or mommy and daddy will go to jail” thing must have worked. Thank you for not striking me down with lightening for using such extreme measures.

Thank you God…for giving Rambo an unexpected day off that was pure paradise. Just thank you. Now I remember what he looks like. He’s pretty cute, don’t you think?

Please God…kill all the box elder bugs in Podunk. I know they are all your creatures but damn – they’re annoying as Satan. You feel me? I mean they cover our doors and windows and they fly around like they own the place. Ack.

Please God…when Banana starts sobbing uncontrollably about going to school all of next week – give me the patience of St. Peter or even Mary if you want. Help me not to smack her. Or pass out in frustration. Or sell her to the highest bidder. I really do love her. I swear.

Thank you God…for old friends who Rambo and I haven’t seen in months but can sit down and talk to in a restaurant for more than 4 hours with. Those kind of people make life okay.

Dear God...please help me in my quest to pretend that M&Ms are poisonous so that I don’t eat 8 bags of them next week.

Praise Jesus…for our high school football team that scored 55 points to the other team’s 0 BEFORE half-time. By beating the other team so badly, we didn’t feel bad leaving early to go eat pizza.

Dear God…please forgive me…for being so human sometimes. I try to be more like your son Jesus every day but sometimes I really suck at it. I felt more like Satan’s cousin most of this last week but I swear next week, I’ll be better. Please don’t give up on me.

Dear God…keep my friends and family safe, happy and healthy one more week. And I swear that I’ll try to make it to church next Sunday. Pinky promise. Oh and PS…you rock!