Inside a Girl’s Purse

The Mastermind has been carrying this brown corduroy Dickie’s messenger bag around for days.  She sleeps with it on, refuses to take it off to go to the bathroom and tried to bring it into the bathtub today.  I asked her, “Why is this purse so important?”  She answered simply, “Cuz its got all my stuff.”

Later we sat together at the table.  I ate dinner straight out of the pan I cooked it in because after a day of cooking I refuse to make one more dirty dish.  She watched me eat like a weirdo while clutching her purse close to her chest.  I asked her if I could see what was inside her purse.  She replied, “Sure!” and started pulling out the items and laid them out in a row on the table.

The contents included the following:

• 3 Crayola markers to which she said “I is not supposed to have dis.”  No kidding.
• her toothbrush in a plastic toothbrush holder
• 76 cents which happened to belong to her sister
• a red Power Ranger that is missing both legs
• a small Lion King book that refers to as her “diary.”  She also calls diarrhea “diary.”  Just sayin’!
• 2 sets of vampire teeth

One could understand why she has been so attached to this purse.  Now I’m off to tuck her into bed, purse and all.

Last Minute Halloween on a Budget

I told myself that this year we were going to do Halloween on a budget.  I knew that The Mastermind and The Crybaby would fit into their costumes from last year and I found a really cute frog costume for The Boss at a garage sale for $6.  All I had left was to create a robot costume for The Busy One.

Not a problem!  I asked my husband to bring home a box from work.  No big deal.  I planned on spray painting it silver and applying some reflective stickers and stuff.  Voila!  A robot!  This was the plan two weeks ago.  He never brought home a box and now I’m starting to panic.  This costume has to be wearable by Friday.  It’s Saturday, leaving me 6 days to construct this thing.

In the past two weeks, the little kids have become re-obsessed with The Wizard of Oz.

Can you see where this is leading to already?  Then I’ll cut to the chase.

My life long dream since I was a child was to have a huge group of people dress up like The Wizard of Oz characters and go together.  Well, thanks to my over-reproduction, now I do it with my own children!  However, it still needed to be on a budget.

I search Craigslist, which I do every day anyway since you never know what someone will be selling, and find a sparkly Dorothy costume in The Mastermind’s size.  It’s fate.  I have to have this costume.  One phone call and $10 later, it’s ours!  Next, I have to find a lion costume.  Another $10 on Craigslist and bingo!

We already have the stuff on hand to make an awesome scarecrow costume (plaid shirt, burlap sacks that I’ll sew into pants, twine and most importantly – straw!).  So we’re set for that.

Leading to The Busy One’s costume.  Clearly, he will have to be the tin man in order for this to work.  I plan out what I need to buy (silver spray paint, funnel) and what I supplies I need to construct it… a box.

So I’m back to square one and have created hours more work for myself over the next 6 days.  But it will definitely be worth it!

Oh Facebook

How you give me a range of emotions every day.  I never know what you will bring me.  Will someone I knew in elementary school have a close relative pass away?  Will an ex-coworker go to the park with her kids?  Will an internet friend’s husband not put the dirty dishes in the dishwasher?  Only logging on will give me the goods.  So why does it irritate me?

I guess some days I don’t want to log on to find out my sister-in-law’s ex-husband had “one of the worst weeks in his life.”  Well, secretly this makes me smile.  He deserves to have a lousy week.  He’s a jerk.  He packed up everything while his wife was on a business trip and moved out, leaving her to come home to a half empty house and a completely empty heart.  He is such a coward and an asshole and I just want to scream “YOU DESERVE ANYTHING BAD THAT HAPPENS TO YOU!”  They had been married for 13 years and together since high school.

What really gets me is that they are both still Facebook friends.  Instead of just deleting his marriage status, he proudly changes it to “single” on what would have been their 13th anniversary (yeah, their divorce was official on THAT date, just to turn the knife again).  How can she stand to see his status updates and the stupid videos he posts?  Does it not drive her insane?  It drives me insane and I wasn’t married to the guy.  In fact, I wasn’t really close with him at all.

Am I just that immature that I can’t comprehend why someone would stay “friended” to their ex-husband that left her high and dry?  Is she crazy for wanting to remain friends with him?  I just don’t know.  Either way, I know I have to delete him as a friend or I am never going to be able to get over it.

And we all know, it’s all about me.

Fever

Last night, after our PTO meeting, we came home to a feverish, exhausted little girl.  The Mastermind must have run herself down and was running a low grade fever and was crazily looking forward to bedtime.

In the past, I would have run for the Tylenol or ibuprofen, but since I’ve gotten on this new kick of no meds I just let it be.  I’m not going to lie, I was paranoid last night.  “How hot is she now?”  “Is it the flu?”  “Will everyone get sick?”  Those were just a sample of the thoughts that ran through my mind last night.

This morning she woke up happy as a clam, but still plagued with a low grade fever.  I called her in sick at preschool and made her some warm apple cider tea with honey.  I dished out her multi-vitamin which contains probiotics and 2,000 IUs of Vitamin D3 and spiked her tea with an additional 5,000 IUs.  Then I waited.

Wouldn’t you know it that as preschool was ending her fever diminished and now she’s back to her regular self again!  Yay for the power of natural health care!

Battling Over the Thermostat

I’m cheap.  I think we all know that.  This poses no real problems during the spring and summer.  However, when fall rolls around and then winter I get ultra cheap.  I enjoy that reflective look of plastic film over windows and snuggling up with a blanket when I get chilly.

My husband is a hard to sell on the idea.  He’s not crazy about plastic over the windows because of how the shades sit.  It’s too much work he says.  This year he came up with the idea to use plastic on the outside of the windows instead.  I’m not keen on it, but I’m so cheap I don’t care what the house looks like to outsiders.  Also, my house has some sort of protective quality about it that no one ever notices us.  Our next door neighbors, not the crazy Italians- the ones on the other side of us, didn’t know we had a dog for like 8 months and never noticed my sister moved in, despite the fact she attended school with the kids that live there.  It’s bizarre.  So anyway, I have no qualms about decking out the house ghetto fabulous.  No one will see it anyway.

My real beef is with the thermostat.  My husband and I play this game where we turn it up/down and hope the other one doesn’t notice.  I’m not going to lie, when I dip it down to 62 degrees, it’s fucking chilly up in here.  But you know what I do?  I put on a sweatshirt and socks, get off my ass and cook and it feels magically warmer.  My husband wears a t-shirt and complains “It’s too cold in here.”  I tell him to put on more clothes and he scoffs, gets a pissy attitude and takes another scorching hot shower to warm up.  Often I wonder if he has diabetes and the lack of circulation is what makes his feet so damn cold.  It’s not diabetes though, it’s just him being weird.

Today I put on my big girl panties and compromised.  65 degrees.  He wants 66 and I want 64 (at the highest, would really prefer 62 if we’re being honest).  So 65 it is.

Of course, this is only until he comes home and I leave to take The Busy One to basketball practice.  I can bet by the time I get home it will be cranked up to 67 or 68 and I will have to “accidentally” nudge it back down to 65 (or 62).

Finished

I dragged The Busy One, who actually had a free day for once, with me to finish up handing out plastic bags around the neighborhood yesterday.  It was windy and about 45 degrees so you can imagine my excitement.  However, it was lovely getting out of the house without the little demons dragging me down and just have some one on one time with my 10 year old.

You know what’s interesting about 10 year olds?  Not much.  I have one of those 10 year olds that thinks he’s still 7.  He loves all things Pokemon and Super Mario and doesn’t like girls.  It’s quite amusing to me to see how the other side is.  When I was 10, I was pretty damn boy crazy.  Every cute girl in my class had a boyfriend (I do wonder if the boys actually knew they were boyfriends though).  I didn’t because I wasn’t cute.  I had a pixie cut and wore over sized sweater dresses.  It was terrible.  No boyfriends for me until I was 16 and even then it was slim pickings.

During our 90 minute walk (yes an hour and a half of non-stop walking in the cold, did I ever mention how out of shape I am?), he complained several times and I promised him a hot shower and some cocoa when we got home to warm him back up.  That seemed to work for him.  I; however, could not be convinced otherwise.  I did NOT want to be handing out these stupid bags to people that were actually home this time, giving me the stank eye at every opportunity.

We were out of bags at the 90 minute mark and not a moment too soon.  I still needed an extra 7 bags or so, but I figured my chances of them actually donating are slim to begin with so screw it.  No one will miss 7 houses, right?  I’m hoping that one of the teachers doesn’t live on that stretch.

After a few hours of being in our toasty warm, 64 degree house, we thawed out enough so we could continue every day functions.  I made yummy granola and The Busy One did homework.  It was the perfect end to a miserable morning.

Talk About a Crappy Day

When I volunteered for this PTO thing, I expected to really bring about a change.  Their PTO is notorious for being small and having a hard time recruiting volunteers.  I thought “I can change that!”  I’m great at organizing and my husband is good at motivating people.  We can totally do this!

Then reality set in.

As I type this, I feel drenched and defeated.  Our first parent-volunteer-is-completely-necessary event was this morning.  We were handing out plastic bags (my inner crunchy soul cringes at the thought) at houses in the neighborhood with hopes that the neighbors will fill them with non-perishable food items for our local food pantry.  The children come with their classes next week and pick up the donations.

Of the 288 permission slips I sent home, 7 were returned.  Not exactly ideal, but we can work with it.  When I saw it was going to be a brisk 45 degrees out and raining, I started to get worried.  I decided to bring a big jug of hot water, cocoa packets, and cute disposable cups with lids (again, killing my inner crunch) as a thank you to them for braving the cold and rain.  Wouldn’t you know that only 2 people actually showed up.  Yes, 2.  Luckily, the lady that we coordinated with (at the evil empire that shall not be named) that supplied us with bags brought 3 coworkers with her to help.  So with all of our help, we only had to do 5 out of 9 streets by ourselves.  Each street is 8 blocks.  That’s a pretty large amount of walking to do in the fucking rain.

I dressed up the little ones like Eskimos, draped them in blankets and an umbrella and set off.  It was miserable.  I lost a glove and had to backtrack to find it.  The Crybaby wouldn’t wear his gloves so by the 11th block his hands were bright red and he was screaming in pain.  By the time we got home, we were completely drenched, freezing our asses off and pissed off beyond belief.  The best part?  We still have 2.5 more streets to do, it’s supposed to rain all day today, my husband is going hunting as of 5 pm tonight and somehow I have to get these bags out.

Worst.  Day.  Ever.

Oh, and a huge tree branch fell on my van sometime during the night.  No damage, thank goodness, but it still pissed me off nonetheless.  We already have to fix the brakes next week and our car just got out of the shop this morning (if you heard any cha-chings this morning, that was our mechanic, over twelve hundred cha-chings to be exact).

I guess on the positive side, it couldn’t possibly get any worse… could it?

New Rules

I am drafting New Rules to Deal With Mommy Version 1.0 (many revisions to follow I’m sure).

Rule #1

The word “hungry” has been banned from the household.  This also extends to public places when you are in the company of Mommy.  I can’t deal with hearing “I’m hungry” 50 times a day which actually translates to “I’m bored.”  There is no food here anyway so either dig in the dog’s dish (he’s busy eating the compost) or drink a tall glass of yummy filtered water (it’s cheap and you can do it yourself).

Rule #2

Mommy will no longer be available between the hours of “after school” until “dinner time.”  I am mentally checked out, trying to fix dinner and can’t deal with 5th grade grammar or counting nickels and pennies.  If you can’t figure it out yourself, you’re going to need to submit a request to see me “after dinner,” but before “bed time.”  Time slots are available on a first come, first serve basis.  However, whining will automatically bump you down to last in line so keep that in mind.

Rule #3

The words “please,” “thank you,” and “may I” are welcome.  Use them, please!

Rule #4

Mommy has created a new game for all of you called “I Just Took A Xanax.”  This is where Mommy gets to sit and watch you in your school play/sporting event/etc and the rest of you pretend you’re on medication.  You get to be calm and relaxed, sit quietly, and pretend that you go to boarding school.  I then get the pleasure of enjoying your activity that I paid for and listening to the other parents smother me with compliments about my well behaved children.  It’s win-win!

My Life is DVR

Since we adopted the DVR into our family, our lives have changed drastically.  It’s been probably 2 years now (I know, I should have wrote down the date so we could celebrate it’s birthday, but I didn’t know at that time how awesome it really was).  We are no longer slaves to our television and it’s made bedtime routines much easier.  No more tricking the kids into going to bed before 7 pm or quickly throwing them in bed during a commercial break.  Really, the whole DVR concept is ingenious.

However, I have found one flaw.  Often, I’m confused on what can be DVRed and what can’t.  I’ll be driving in my spiffy mommy-van listening to the radio and, like every other person, I totally space out.  I’ll catch the end of something that I wanted to hear and find myself trying to rewind the radio.  Seriously.  I catch myself going for the buttons and I stop, check to see if anyone has caught me being a total idiot, and then proceed to barely change the volume or something equally neutral so I don’t call attention to the fact I’m completely confused.

This is not the only time I have this problem.  Actually, the radio thing happens like once a week to be honest.  I’ve also caught myself daydreaming and then thinking damn, I need to rewind so I can remember that.  Uh, no.  There is no DVR option for your own memory, moron.

DVR is the best thing to happen to our house, but the worst thing to happen to my brain.  It’s completely fried and it’s only adding to my paranoia of becoming old and mentally dull.  Dementia, here I come!

Stoner Cop Calls 911, Busts Himself

This is one of the funniest things I’ve ever heard.  So this cop out of Dearborn, MI confiscates marijuana and he and his wife decide to bake it into brownies.  They get so high that he thinks they’re dead.  No, really.  He actually thinks they’re dead, or dying, or time is just moving really, really, really, really slow.  Srsly.  So he calls 911 and busts himself.

I can’t embed the link for some reason so watch it on YouTube HERE.

I can not stop laughing.  Still.  And it’s been over 24 hours since I’ve seen this originally.  I just keep watching it.  The new catch phrase at our house now between me and the husband is “I’m think we’re dead.” If I had heard this during the time of my life when the THC clouds hung closely over my head, I think I probably would have died.  From laughter.