Wednesday, September 25, 2013

Stupid family suppers.

‘ello lollipops!  How are ya?

I am surviving the chaos that is multiple jobs and multiple children in multiple sports in multiple batshit cray cray land.  I haven’t been to Care Bear Land since school started.
Good God – sometimes I wake up and turn around and it’s bed time again.  There is absolutely no doubt that the chaos and events and board meetings and all that stuff are self-inflicted so yes – I enjoy 99% of that chaos….however, I don’t think I handled it well before. 

Let’s face it though – “before” I was drugged every damn day for my migraines on a Triptan and a preventive med that made blinking seem like mountain climbing.  I was just going through the motions.
Not anymore (thank you Botox!).  I am back to being an organizing, list-making, OCD whore.  It’s effing bliss. 

A couple weeks ago I decided to clear off our kitchen table for about the first time in 12 years so we could use it as a “supper” table each night.  My kids were confused but they decided to just go with it.  I planned out a week’s worth of meals and grocery plans and blah blah.  Rambo and I cooked.  The girls set the table and clean up. 
And I’m not going to lie.  The first few days it was awkward.  None of us knew what to do without the TV in the background.  It was dead silent.

Now though?  We can’t get the girls to shut up.  We have to tell them to stop and take turns talking.  They set the table on their own.  They clean up.  They do their homework while Rambo and I cook.  It’s just what we do.  No matter what.
We all do it – even if we don’t step foot in our house until 6 or 7 pm that night from when the first one of us left at 4am that morning.  We do it anyway.  It’s become the favorite part of our day.  Planning it for me is just a bonus.  I got a new folder and color coded the days and lists and crap.  You should see it.  For an hour a day we look and feel and act and talk like a real family out of Leave It To Beaver….minus the apron.  And we’re in color.

I’m seriously proud of us. 
The conversations have once or twice become slightly dicey though.  Last night the 7 year old said, “I have a secret to tell and I don’t think Daddy will want to hear it.”

Oh Jesus.  Sooo many bad, bad things went through my head at that moment.
We said, “Families don’t have secrets – so you can say it.”

What a dumb thing to say.  I should have given her ice cream so she couldn’t talk.
She says, “You know Pete in my class?”

Yes – we all answer.  I already know where this is going.
Except I don’t.

She says, “Well he says that Mommy went out with his Daddy and Mommy still wanted his Daddy but he broke up with Mommy and me and Pete are brother and sister.”
Sonofabitch.

Stupid mother-effing history rears its ugly head.
Listen here – I dated Pete’s father when I was THIRTEEN.  I was in 6th grade!  *I* broke up with his ass. 

Ask him – he smashed a mirror and cried for the first time in his life.  << I kept that part to myself.
You and Pete are NOT brother and sister.

Dating at 13 does not a baby boy and girl make.  Well I guess it could sometimes but not this time.  Not with us. 
If I would have been thinking I would have told her that they are indeed brother and sister – therefore – they can NEVER date each other. 

I know Pete’s Dad….because of course he still lives in Podunk.  I see him often.  Talk to him often.  Just like every other single guy I dated when I was in school before Rambo.  It’s weird with some, not weird with others. 
It’s a good thing Pete’s Dad is an amazing and kind man that I totally respect or you’d have bet I’d have been on the phone yelling “Dude – you so know I broke up with you.  Come on!”…just so the record was clear.

Oh the benefits of Podunk and family sharing suppers.  You grow up and your kids date the kids of everyone you dated.  It’s f*cking fantastic. 

Wednesday, September 18, 2013

Their lives will not be in vain.

4 wakes in 3 weeks is enough already.  Death staring me in the face this much makes everything in life seem different. 

One of my classmates lost their mom and dad.  One of Rambo’s classmates lost her father.  One of my other classmates lost his mom.

At the one last night, the husband who lost his wife hugged me and said, “Man…God always takes the good ones, doesn’t He?  Trouble is….He took my best friend when He took her.”
I didn’t even try to stop the tears as I moved on to my classmate, his son. 

All night long his words haunted me. 
Never does Podunk shine more than in sadness.  All 4 people had 6 hour wakes and throughout those 6 hours, there was at least an hour wait to get through the line.  The outpouring of love is something you can’t really put into words. 

When you see the big, tough volunteer firemen walk the line sobbing or the entire high school football and volleyball teams come in as a team and cry as a team for one of their biggest supporters…you can barely watch…and the pride you feel almost bursts your heart. 

You tell yourself those teenagers are way too young to have to see and feel death already but you know that death doesn’t care about the age of those left behind. 
When 107 bikers show up to drive a couple to their final resting place…you want nothing more than to be on your own bike showing that kind of honor to that couple who deserved it. 

The entire town lived with them and a part of the entire town died with them on that last ride.  Some of the toughest men I’ve ever known rode that day – in leather from head to toe – not caring how damn cold it was.  One hand steering their bike, one hand wrapped around the woman’s hand wrapped around their mid-section and tears streaming down their sun-worn faces.  You can’t even cry that kind of pain away.  You can’t really even try thinking about the 5 children who lost their parents in an instant.  You just can’t.

When you take a step back and realize that your own classmates are losing parents at an alarming rate….you then realize some day you’re going to feel that and it’s a reality you never really thought about before.  It’s like being punched in the gut.  And yet – you know damn well you can’t live in a fear that deep.
As I laid in bed last night with Rambo’s arms around me just a little tighter than usual…he said, “I love you baby…what are you thinking about?”  I said, “I’m thinking about the man we just left who will never again hold his best friend in bed at night like we’re doing now.”

Rambo said, “I walk into a prison every day with 500 men who have done the most brutal, hateful things to others and they live.  They just keep on living and they shouldn’t…meanwhile these people that have touched our entire town are gone too soon.  I just don’t get it.”
Life is so damn un-understandable sometimes…to a point where it almost hurts physically if you try to figure it out. 

This same night before I attended the wake, I went to my daughter’s volleyball game.  Life, laughter and spirit were everywhere….the polar opposite of what I’d be seeing in just an hour’s time at the wake. 

The same girl who has been at our house because of her tough family life had a rough night.  Drama with the other girls in her class and boys and crap like that.  She’s just so lost and though she comes over when she needs a reprieve and I hold her when she cries – it’s not enough.  I told her 50 times last week as she cried in my arms that what her parents do or don’t do is not her fault.  They are adults and they make their own choices and she looked at me and said, “But they make me feel like it is my fault.”
Jesus.  What do I do with that?  She’ll never truly understand that it’s not – until she’s older.  And now school drama on top of it.  Before Watermelon left for school this morning, I said to her, “Please make sure M is not excluded today no matter what happened yesterday.  I don’t think she can handle that.  She needs a champion in her corner because she doesn’t have any.”

God how I pray that Watermelon has the balls to be that champion and yet a part of me is pissed because it’s not her damn job.  Her job is to be a kid…not to save a friend who is drowning every day in a world of pain.  There’ll be enough of those friends to save in adulthood some day.
Last night Watermelon even heard M threaten to kill herself before the game.  No 12 year old anywhere should have to say that, feel that or hear that.  At 12, I never thought my kid would tell another kid, “Please don’t kill yourself…no one wants you to do that.” 

It’s just shitty.  There’s nothing I can do about it.  It snaps me back to reality and makes me realize that even though it seems like death has been everywhere lately….life in the here and now requires a shitload of attention and care.  Every single second here matters.  What I say and do in those seconds – matters.  Especially in the lives of two little girls.
The 4 people that just got to heaven would want me to remember that.

And my God – I’m going to try like hell not to forget the preciousness of life….even when it tears my heart out.  Their lives will not be in vain.  I can promise you that.

Thursday, September 12, 2013

Ten Things Thursday!


1-Listen.  I’m usually one of those parents that hide my fears and worries from my girls so that they can make and feel their own emotions about any given subject.  Except when it comes to snakes.  I have indeed scarred my older child for life and projected my fear of snakes onto her.  Shit.  (I gave up saving for her college a long time ago and instead am just saving for her future therapy sessions.)
Last night, both girls and I got ready for our run/walk while Rambo did the elliptical downstairs.  On my first lap around – I saw a snake, backed far away and very calmly said, “Oh God.  Oh my God.  Oh Jesus.  Oh holy hell.” 

The terror that I feel when I see a snake feels like something physical I could hold in my hand.  I think my heart actually stops and my blood pressure spikes.  Every single thing in me wanted to run but I didn’t.  When my oldest figured out what I saw – she backed up fast and instantly she started crying without even realizing it.  Wow.  You should have seen the look of fear on her face. 

The snake was the size of a large worm.  We’re all sissies.  I suck. 
I finished my run on the treadmill.  The end.
2-Today is picture day at school.  Last night I double French braided Banana’s hair so today it is super curly.  Everything except her bangs that are straight as hell.  She refused to let me curl them even a little.  F*cking awesome.  Imagine how that looks.  Curly wurly hair down to her butt and stick straight bangs.  Nice.

3-A friend I know is having rear end issues.  Like internal hemorrhoids.  The last discussion we had included words like rectum and bowel movement.  I threw up internally through the whole conversation  and I put on my best concerned face but the whole time I was giving myself a pep talk that went something like this:  Suck it up.  Act like an adult.  You cannot run screaming from the room.   Jesus.
4-I decorated my seasonal tree in my office for fall.  Pumpkins, orange lights, and scarecrows amuck.  It’s super cute.

5-I took burlap ribbon and intertwined it with orange garland and a gold colored feather boa and put it on my fireplace mantel.  I lined up all different sizes of orange candles behind it and it’s like a Fallapaloosa at my house.  Martha Stewart taught me everything I know.  For realz.  We’re tight.
6-The highlight of my week is going to the high school football game on Friday night.  It’s going to be 60 degrees so I can wear high boots and a big bulky sweater and a scarf and sit and watch the game with the whole town.  And hold the hand of the man that I used to cheer for on the sidelines in my itsy bitsy cheerleading skirt.  I know Rambo wishes he was still out there playing.  I do too.  He was never hotter than when he came off the field after a game.

7-Speaking of football – Watermelon is wearing a classmate’s jersey for the first time on Friday.  She is so giddy she can’t contain herself.  She’s wearing the guy’s jersey that she has had a crush on since she was in kindergarten.  She actually had the balls to ask him herself about wearing his jersey before any of the other girls did it.  She’s deathly afraid of snakes but not so afraid of boys apparently.  Dammit. 
8-We are still going strong on eating nightly suppers at the actual table with tv and electronics turned off.  The girls freaking love it…and so do I. 

9-I’m still going strong on planning the nightly suppers and pre-planning the upcoming week’s meals so I can grocery shop for only those meals.  My house is staying clean and organized and I feel at literal peace inside.  I’m OCD by nature and crazy about organizing shit and when things are chaotic on the outside – that’s how I feel on the inside.  When things are clean and organized on the outside – everything on the inside feels better. 
When I was on heavy doses of drugs for my migraines every day – I cared nothing about if dishes were done or things were organized or put away or anything.  I did the bare minimum and called it good and I sat down.  Period.
I was putting dishes in the dishwasher at 9pm last weekend and Banana said to me, “Mom – what are you doing?  Where did you get all this energy?  Did you take a pill of energy or something?”  It’s sad that she realizes me up and doing things is different….but I can’t change the past.  I can only work to show her what the new human me is capable of doing and being.
10-This winter a friend of mine and I are going to plan once a month couple’s game nights.  We’ll rotate houses and play cards or board games.  Then once a month we’ll do girls only nights and the guys can do their guys only nights that same night.  Brilliant, right?

Those of you who know how frightened I am of any type of social gathering know that this is huge for me.  I’ll probably throw up after each one and have hives covering every square inch of my body but dammit – I will laugh my ass off and make memories first.  It’s never easy fighting my own inner demons all the time for something so simple for most people but I’ll do it.  Social anxiety will not define me.  So there.  Put that in your little pipe and smoke it. 
Later, Skittles!

Tuesday, September 10, 2013

I gave birth to Patty Simcox.

Remember Patty Simcox? 
Here – let me show you a picture. 
 
 
She was the crazy giddy over the top cheerleader who decorated for the dance using toilet paper.
She’s the girl we all wanted to punch be like.
Well…this mama right here wants to kiss Patty Simcox. 
And maybe even hump her leg.
Here's why.  I’ve said before that my 7 year old Banana is no fan of school. 
Seriously.  It’s sort of a nightmare. 
School, rules and homework do NOT coincide with my child’s free spirit in any way. 
Last night as I laid in bed I wondered how the morning would go.  They’ve been going pretty smoothly.  I leave before my kids go to school so they have to set their own alarms, get dressed, eat breakfast and lock up the house and get down the driveway at the right time every morning – on their own.  They are 12 and 7 mind you so some days I wonder if it’s possible but so far so good.
However, to make super sure that Banana doesn’t turn into the Spawn of Satan and refuse to go to school – I somehow thought of Patty Simcox last night because Banana is OBSESSED with the movie Grease lately.  She has a tiny portable DVD player and she puts that movie in and shoves that DVD player right up next to her face and falls asleep listening to Grease Lightening. 
She runs around the house with a Twinkie singing “brusha-brusha-brusha” for hours.

 
Remember the scene in the diner when Kenicki takes a big bite of a burger and talks with his mouth full and open?  She does that too.  Shoves food in her mouth and talks….like Kenicki. 
Yah.  It’s precious.

 
This morning I called Banana into my room as I was finishing getting ready and told her if she got up now I’d do her hair like Patty Simcox in Grease. 
Jesus, Joseph and Mary – you should have seen her eyes light up.  She ran her ass to her room and put on a Patty Simcox twirly dress and away we went.
Banana has hair almost down to her butt so I put her hair in a high ponytail and curled her bangs and “voila” – it’s a mini Patty Simcox.  No – Patty didn’t have bangs.  Sue me. 
The little details do not matter.
I made her effing day people.  She ran into her big sister’s room and I heard her say, “Hey – you have a sister named Patty Simcox today!” and ran back out.
Ah yes…feel free to call me brilliant.  It’s completely okay. 
Never mind that I let my kid watch a movie to fall asleep.  Never mind that said movie is about an inch away from her eyeballs and is probably ruining her sight with every second that ticks by.  Never mind that I have to play upon my child’s love of a movie to get her to go to school like a normal child. 
Just never mind.
I’m a f*cking genius. 
If she asks me to cut off all her hair tonight so she can look like Rizzo tomorrow – I’m screwed.
 
If she asks me to dye her hair pink tonight so she can look like Frenchie – I’m double screwed.
Then again – maybe my biggest worry should be if she wants to look like naughty Sandy. 
 
OMG – I’m so super screwed.
Shitballs.  What have I done?

Wednesday, September 4, 2013

Mediocre Mom might be dead.

My life is so boring that I’ve lost my mojo to write about it.  I mean seriously.  It’s slightly reedick.

When you’re done reading this (if you can get all the way through) please remember that I warned you this was going to be worse than watching paint dry, mkay?
Let’s see…my kids started school this week.  Rambo took the day off just like he has for the last 12 years but suddenly the 12 year old was too old for her Dad to take her to school so she rode the bus.  Just to be an ass Rambo walked down to the end of the driveway and waited for the bus with her and took embarrassing pictures of her.  She thought that was pretty funny.

The 7 year old got taken to her first day on the Harley and was on Cloud 9 and not a single tear was shed.  Today?  Um – different story.  I couldn’t count how many tears fell off her tiny cheeks if I tried.  I’m not sure who it was harder on…her or Rambo because he had to drop her off and leave her crying.
It blows…but she’ll get used to it.

Oh and this weekend my kid spilled a huge cup of water onto the kitchen floor and as I was wiping it up I thought to myself, “This is awesome.  Now I don’t have to clean this part of the floor for another week.”  I think Banana was shocked I wasn’t the least mad about it.  Yes.  I really just wrote in my blog about my kid spilling water.  Lest I remind you that I warned you about the boring-ness of my life?
Remember the stray cat that we adopted and Rambo with the soft heart that supposedly hates cats bought cat food for?  Yah – well that might have been pointless.  The other night I heard what sounded like hippos stampeding and when I looked outside the next morning I saw that our tiny winy stray cat had killed a massive rabbit and feasted on it.  On our deck.  By the lovely table and chairs.  With blood spatters everywhere like a massacre had gone down.  Jesus balls.  Good thing I bought Kibbles and Bits or she may have starved.  Yah…sure.

What else?  Oh - Rambo ended up working one 15 hour shift and two 18 hour shifts over the holiday weekend because some dumbass inmate decided to sport some internal bleeding.  The inmate was a complete dick and at one point Rambo had to taze the guy while he was restrained in the hospital bed and the nurses freaked out and state troopers and cops and everybody and their brother came in.  We saw him a few minutes each day and that was it.  Sucked giant donkey dicks.
The only other thing that is minorly exciting in my life is my ability to stay awake and do things.  I’m serious.  I didn’t realize how fatiguing the drugs I have been on were.  I mean – all I did was sleep and if I wasn’t sleeping I was sitting down.  I didn’t care about much in my house because I didn’t have the energy to.  But lately?  Get this.  I could kick Martha Stewart and Betty Crocker’s ass with one punch – I swear.

This weekend I moved shit around and cleaned big time.  I decluttered like a mo fo.  I organized an entire coat, hat, mitten and shoe closet.  I found all my Adidas and Nike outfits I want to sell and took pics of them.  I put 20 outfits together for Banana and put them in her cubes so she can just pick one each morning and go.  I made cinnamon cake and muffins. 
I mapped out our suppers for each night of the week on a calendar that shows what we have going on that night so I know if we have a little or a lot of time for supper.  I have a grocery list that consists of only the things we need to make those suppers and school snacks and work lunches.  I have pre-made mine and Rambo’s meals for every day this week.  I finally cleared off our dining room table and we have had a family supper each night WITHOUT the TV on every night this week.  Holy shit on a stick right?
My kids were all like – “Why are we eating over here?” and they had trouble figuring out how to sit down at the actual table area.  Rambo was all like, “Um – cuz it’s a table and we’re going to pretend to be a normal family and act like we like each other okay?” 

The shit is getting real up in heyah people. 
One night my 12 year old even said, "Maybe we should pray before we eat."  I don't even know what to do with that....so we ignored her.
I kid you not.  I even did a little fall decorating with pumpkins and orange candles and shit.  I’m going to make a wreath tonight from freaking scratch.

I put away all my laundry….which is a massive feat I must say.
I made specialized TO DO lists for my anal calendar that goes out to 2014.  Like one list is “personal to do”.  One is “school to do”.  One is “1st PT job to do” and another is for the “2nd PT job to do” since both of those have so many time deadlines that I want to be ready for.  The system is working well and I feel in control for the first time in what feels like forever. 

I managed to get my “I hate rules” kid to put away her bookbag and shoes last night AND do math online.  What the what?  She even took a bath, washed her hair and combed it (yes – this is a major accomplishment) AND me – yours truly – did double French braids for her so she’d wake up and have curly hair.  Then to be fair I had to straighten Watermelon’s hair too.
And just because I haven’t bragged enough to make you vomit excessively (because that’s my goal)…I’d like to report that I even worked out last night.  40 minutes and got up to an incline of 12. 

This must be what Supermoms feel like every day.  And let’s face it – every freaking mother alive is a Supermom.  For a long time, I felt more like a Mediocre Mom and I fit the part in every way. 
Now?  I need a freaking cape.  A pink one covered in glitter and sparklers.

Where’s my bedazzler? 
This whole feeling like a human thing kicks ass, people.  Like seriously kicks ass.

Peace out, Skittles.  << It appears that feeling like a human also makes me speak like a gangster.  Just go with it, mkay?