Deep Thoughts

So it's the end of the year, and most people reflect and stuff. Not I! No time for that.
I've noticed something about myself (and believe me when I say my psychotherapy very rarely turns inward) ... do you know that poem with the line the best laid plans of mouse and man often go awry? Or something like that. Anyway, I'm not the man, who constantly makes big, grand plans. I'm the mouse. I live in the here and now. I take stuff as it comes and make the best I can with it. I don't spend time being angry, or mourning losses. Instead, picking up and dusting off and moving forward. In a way, it leaves me little time to stress out about things. I like that. Plus I have the attention span of a gnat.

Never one to go overboard on NYE, this year seems like it will be particularly tame. It's 4pm and I'm so tired I could nap on my desk right now. Hubs is making dinner, kids are waiting to have a zombie movie fest tonight. Me? I'm looking forward to another year being a mom, wife, student and friend.

Caution: Construction Zone

Once again, my thanks to Midwest Mommy for helping crop my dang header... if any of you saw it last night or this morning, it took up 3/4 of my page!!!
You know, I'd like to say I'm just not computer literate enough to do this crafty stuff, but the bottom line is I don't have the patience. I get so frustrated with it!
Now to work on my background and side bars..... oh, the fun!

Wordless Wednesday

More Bellyisms

Saturday night, the Belly got sick. Very sick. He spent hours throwing up, and trying to sleep.
At around midnight, he woke up, puked, then told me he'd almost been hit in the eye with a baseball.
????
After clean up, he explained a little more. He was dreaming that he was at bat, and the ball was coming right for his eye. Then he lowered his head, and it bounced off his hat instead.
"Oh, so you were a baseball player? That sounds exciting!"
He smiled, as he was drifting off already, and he said, "Yeah, I was a CUBS player."

:)

Inventory

This morning I found one of my Converse gym shoes in the dog's crate. So on my search for the *other* shoe, I decided to look under the dog's bed. Here's what I found:

The remains of a pillow (synthetic, thank goodness)
2 pair of my underwear (wtf?!)
an empty Chef Boyardee ravioli can
2, count 'em, TWO packages of hot dog buns

Hubs thinks Ilio may be a hoarder. If he was a person, he'd probably have newspapers and old magazines piled up to the ceiling.

Dear Santa

Thank you Dawn, for this idea :)

Dear Santa,
Um, could you bring me a DSi? And could you bring me, um, all the stuff that I asked for? You know, all the stuff on TV? And the stuff at Target, too? That's my favorite store, Target.
And um, could you make D do his homework so he can play video games with me again? I get stuck when I have to play the song of time on the Legend of Zelda, and my mom says he can't help me because he can't play any games until he does all his homework.
Love,
Isaiah M.

Dear Santa this is Ilio I'm the big dog and I really want cheese and those green fuzzy balls and can you make my people stay home all the time to play because I get bored when they're gone and then I chew on stuff and then they get mad but I only chew stuff I can reach well I can reach a lot of stuff because I'm big but they get mad and they say to me Bad Dog! and that makes me sad so can you bring stuff for me?
Good Santa!

Dear Fat Man,
Bring me a muzzle for this big dog. And some chew sticks.
Eva - the original family dog

Dear Santa,
Can you please do something to make the kids believe just a little longer? Oh, and it would be nice if you could clone my wife so that we may actually see her once in a while. You know, if it's not too much to ask.
Thanks, bro,
Hubs

Dear Santa,
I'd like to share a few things with you... oh hell, I don't have time. Have a good night, stay warm, don't forget to bring poop bags for the reindeer, don't eat too many cookies, and tell Mrs. Clause I said hello.
The Mom

On Grieving

In the part of this universe that we know there is great injustice, and often the good suffer, and often the wicked prosper, and one hardly knows which of those is the more annoying. ~ Bertrand Russell

At the beginning of December, one of my best friends lost her husband. They had been married for 18 years, and had 8 children. Five of the children still live at home, the youngest is 4.
Personally, I'm angry. Angry that he had to deal with medical issues while he was alive, and even angrier that he's gone now and his children are without their father. He was a great guy, a caring father, and a good husband and partner to my friend. She faces raising their children and moving on with life without him, and that's just not fair. She's an amazingly giving, intelligent, funny and honest person, and it's just. Not. Fair.

She, however, feels that the time they had was a gift, the family they built is his legacy, and that he is not suffering, that he is at peace and at home, and that she *will* see him again. Of course she feels the hurt of his loss, and the bewilderment of her children pains her beyond belief, but she knows they will get through it, and that all is as it should be.

It's her faith, you see. Her faith in a good and just God is sustaining her at this time.

I don't understand it, but I don't need to. It's not about me.

Bellyisms

Last night, while hanging out with the kiddos, Isaiah asked Hubs, “Daddy, when were you born?” To which Hubs answered, “1974.”

Isaiah asked, “Was that in the old west?”

False Advertising

Time Magazine's 10 questions last week were for Dave Grohl, rockstar extraordinaire. Daimean really likes the Foo Fighters, and fancies himself a future singer/drummer/guitarist. So I called him into the kitchen where I had been reading/making dinner so he could read the article. He came in, started reading.... and then, halfway through the article, he had this strange look on his face and he said, "Wait... wait... THIS is Dave Grohl?" Yes, honey, that's him. "The guy who sings Everlong??" Mmm hmm, one and the same.

"But... he's OLD!"

Ah yes, we old people kick ass, kiddo.

I Win

Isn't this supposed to be "the most wonderful time of the year"? So why am I feeling like shit?
My first semester back at school is almost done. Just when I thought it had gone off without a hitch, I get an email from one of my teachers saying that he has no record of my taking one of the exams. WTF? Seriously? I said that I don't keep copies of papers or tests that have been graded and returned. He responded that the only option was for me to re-take it, and advised that in the future I should keep all of my papers until the end of the semester "to be covered in such an eventuality."
How about no? Hmm? Ya like that? NO.
So I argued it. Said it was unfair, and that the same could be said about professors keeping papers until the grades are recorded. Ultimately I agreed to take it again if I had to, but made it be known that I found it quite frustrating, especially when I'm preparing for finals.
Know what he did? Sent me an email saying he'll take me at my word, maybe he's made a mistake, and I don't have to re-take it.

I win.

But I Don't Speak Mexican!

Yesterday I had planned a trip to the National Museum of Mexican Art, where I was to choose a topic to write a report on for my Latin American History class. I tried to talk the kids into going with me, but Belly protested, "I'm not Mexican!" To which, of course, I reminded him that he is Mexican. He then yelled out (while in line at McDonald's) "But I don't even speak Mexican!!" Here are a few of my favorite pieces from the museum.



*Side note* I'm typing this at work, and there's a new guy sitting at a desk sort of half facing me. I just sneezed, and when I did, I pulled my jacket up to cover my face. He now looks like he wants to run from the room. What? I covered!

Thanksgiving went well, and Hubs and I went out for Black Friday for the first time. Three people were stabbed in the wee hours of the morning, waiting for Best Buy to open. Who brings a knife to a shopping spree? Apparently 3 people, since I don't think they were all about sharing it and taking turns with the shanking.

Yesterday we pulled out our Christmas tree and all of the assorted STUFF we've accumulated over the years. I had more fun than the kids. Anyway, our house now looks as merry as it feels :)

Years of Guilt... Gone

The setting, grandma’s house. The year, probably 1985 or 1986. The fashions… well, we’ll leave that alone.
It was my birthday, and I’d unsuccessfully lobbied to stay home from school. To make me feel better about being shipped off to the institution, my grandmother promised to make me a special birthday lunch, just for the two of us to share.
Being a child means living in the moment and having a totally egocentric world view, right?
So, that day, I invited my friend Jenny Pagan to lunch at my grandmother’s house. My grandmother didn’t miss a beat. Didn’t seem surprised or disappointed. She led us to the table, already set for two. She fed us salad and steak (my favorite foods at the time – yes, I was a strange child) and sent us on our way back to school.
Years later, I looked back on that with shame. Here was my grandmother, trying to do something special and nice for us, and I didn’t consider her feelings at all. I felt so terrible, for so long.
Last week I picked up the phone and called my grandmother, launched into the story and said, “I’m either calling to apologize, or to thank you for rolling with the punches.” She laughed and swore she hadn’t even thought of it since the day it happened, and couldn’t imagine I’d actually lugged around guilt for something like that.
I blame my quasi-Catholic upbringing.

Back to Basics

As in walking, sitting, reaching. Those basics. The ones I couldn't do after yesterday's fall down the stairs. Today I'm sporting a few nasty abrasions and bruises, but I feel much better. Nothing broken except my ego. Because of course, Hubs was there to see this colossal FAIL of stairwalking. After all was said and done, he asked me kindly to never do that again, as seeing me get hurt almost killed him.
I just love it when he thinks of himself in these situations ;)

Looks as Bad as it Feels

This morning while rushing out of the house carrying 1) my heavy book bag for school and 2) a big, steaming cup of coffee and 3) Hubs' jacket to be dry cleaned....
I slipped down the wet back stairs. Feels like I went totally airborn before the weight of my bag helped slam me into the stairs. Then of course I slid down the remaining stairs, and lay in a crouched, crumpled heap at the bottom.
Now I'm at work, in terrible pain. My ribs hurt when I breathe. I can't even lean back in my chair.
There's no way I'll make it to school tonight, so sit for an extra 3 hours in a hard, plastic chair.
I just want to go home :(

DIY Dog Healing

My little man if feeling better now. *Whew!*
Wait….
Now my dog is sick. My 75lb baby. He wasn’t acting like himself. He was kind of down. Maybe I’m projecting human feelings on him, I don’t know. Then he started throwing up. Then yesterday he didn’t want to eat. I sat up with him half the night, cleaning up puke, coaxing him to drink water, and reading online about DIY dog fixing. Gave him some maple syrup, because one site suggested his shivering may have been due to hypoglycemia from not eating. He threw that up. On my bed.
This morning Hubs took him into the vet, because seriously, I threw a tennis ball and he just watched it go. Now you KNOW that means he doesn’t feel well. So he’s there, and they’re keeping him overnight.
OVER. NIGHT.
My poor dog!! He’s going to be so sad! What if he freaks out? What if he thinks I’ve left him??

Eva, on the other hand, is living it up. She’s getting all the food and treats that Ilio doesn’t want, and she’s tossing around a pair of brand new tennis balls that she’s got all to herself.

Making it in the Big City

I'm having a rough week, fellow bloggers. At a crossroads, and don't know which way to go. Feeling a bit crapped on. Feel like yelling out, "It's just not fair!", but know it won't change anything.
As you know, I'm one of the 700,000 people who lost their jobs in January. I'm thankful to have found another one, but it comes at a great decrease in salary. My husband worked a lot of overtime to make up for the shortfall, but the City of Chicago has recently stopped paying overtime. With the recent increase in property taxes, we've now reached a point where it's very hard to afford our home. We live in a modest home, in a modest area. Nothing fancy. No marble bathrooms. No 3 acres. We're told that our property value hasn't declined, but foreclosed homes are selling like hotcakes around here, for far less than we owe on ours. If we sell, we may walk away with nothing. That's if we can sell at all.
If we stay, we will run into problems the next time something major comes up - maybe a plumbing emergency, or a car problem. We are truly in that unpleasant situation where we can't afford to stay, and can't afford to leave.
This is my first home. As in, I lived in apartments my whole life. Moved around a lot. I don't want to do that to my kids. We've been here almost 5 years, and that's the longest I've ever lived in one place. I played by the rules, did my part, and still come out behind. The Making Home Affordable program seemed like it might help us. But you know what? We're $11 under their criteria to qualify. Eleven. Fucking. Dollars.

If we could sell, and move into something smaller, more affordable, I'd do it in a heartbeat.

But it's never that simple, is it?

She's WHAT?!

Yesterday I was informed by a parent at the school that a girl in Daimean’s 6th grade class is going around telling people she’s pregnant. So I called the school and talked to the teacher and she said, “Oh, she’s still saying that?!”

STILL?????

It’s going to be a long school year.

Turns out the teacher has already made the girl's mother aware of this, and thought the whole thing had been put behind them. Good lord.

Children and Narcotics

The Belly tested negative for bacterial stuff at the doctor's office. The doctor checked his ears and lungs, all clear. Her conclusion?
"Is this influenza? Probably. H1N1? Possibly. Some kind virus? Definitely."
She didn't test him for H1N1 though, which didn't even occur to me until after we left her office.
What she did give him was cough medicine with codeine. I'm very skeptical about narcotics and kids. It makes me nervous. She gave me the script and told me to think about it, and said that at the very least it would quiet his cough enough to let him get some sleep. At the end of the day, I got it filled. It backfired, I think. He certainly felt better for a little while. He beat up his dad for stealing his Skittles, then got into a tickle fight with his brother. Then he went up and jumped on my bed for a while. He did get some sleep last night, even if he tossed and turned all night, keeping ME awake.
The dr gave a refill on the cough syrup - is that for the Mom that isn't getting any sleep?!

Let's Talk About...

Let’s talk for a moment about sick kids. A sick child is the WORST thing in the world. Of course, that kind of goes without saying, unless you have Munchhausen by Proxy, that you don’t ever want to see your child sick or hurting.
Isaiah’s been sick for a few days, and he’s not getting better. He’s seeing the doctor today. Is it just me, or does it always seem to get worse over the weekend, when your doctor ISN’T in the office? She’s very responsive by phone though, so we’ve already been giving her status checks.
Last week he had the sniffles, then got a flu shot, then got full blown SICK. Fever, coughing, sneezing, throwing up, nosebleed…… He’s just miserable. Last night he ran a fever, had the chills. When he’s awake, he’s coughing.

This. Is. Terrifying.

On one hand, I tell myself that kids get sick. It happens. Every year they catch a cold, or the flu, and they get sick but they get better. Then again, there are all kinds of crazy viral things just floating around and causing major complications. Maybe I’m buying into the whole H1N1 panic. I don’t know. All I know is that my little guy has been sick for days and isn’t getting better.

Oh, Happy Day!

Tomorrow my little guy will turn six. My little Buddha baby. My terrible two with attitude. Now he's a big kindergartner. He's a sensitive, empathetic, amazing little kid. He's got such a big heart in such a little body. He freely tells people he loves them, he misses them, and also when they hurt him. But he forgives, in fact, we could all take a lesson from his capacity to forgive. He doesn't let anything hold him down, he's simply got too much to enjoy to be sidetracked by anything else. I've been changed by him in unexpected ways. I've gained patience and insight, and a reminder not to take myself too seriously :)

So now, I'll repeat the same thing I said to him when I first held him in my arms, and welcomed him home -

Happy birthday, little one.

Little Orphan Manny

Phone rings, 1:26am.
He: Are 6 months old legal?
Me: Wha..?
He: Are 6 months old legal?
Me: That depends on where they're from, I guess.
He: No, are 6 months old legal? Do you want him?
Me: Are we talking about Safe Haven? Did someone leave a baby somewhere??
He: NO, I said a SIX MONTH OLD BEAGLE, do you want him?



And this is a picture taken in my kitchen at roughly 3:45am. Why no, I don't need sleep, why do you ask?
Meet Little Dog. I'm guessing we're not going to keep him. Lucky for him I have a great home for him to move into, with someone who has been waiting for the right dog to come along. Well, it just so happens I have an extra dog here.....

Whoa

Yesterday was my mom’s birthday. She wanted pizza from a specific place, so that’s where we went. The order was under her name, but the receipt only showed her last name. Right on top of that, it showed the server name. The way it was laid out, the names were together, almost as if showing a full name. So when they give me the receipt, the only thing I see is right at the top, it says Isaias DeJesus, with the date next to it, 10/6/09.

Why was this an odd coincidence? That’s my dad’s name, and I’ve never, ever seen it written unless it was referring to him. It’s not exactly the most common name out there.

So I folded it in half, handed it to my mom, and told her that somewhere, somehow, my dad was wishing her a happy birthday.

Here’s to recognizing those little, magical moments in everyday life.

Tiny Nervous Breakdown

Birthday party planning, Halloween planning, house maintenance, winter clothes and shoes for kids, new paint for the bathroom... is it any wonder I'm freaking out about my midterms this week?!

Dear Edward

Dearest Edward,
It's not you, it's me.
Not that I don't adore you, I do. In all your sparkly splendor. Your neurotic and posessive brand of love. The fact that you can dazzle. I mean, who wouldn't love you? Your eyes smolder, you read minds and you're polite. You play the piano. You survived the Spanish Influenza (well, sort of)
It's just that, don't laugh, but Lestat was my first love. And I'm simply not over him. So while I'm getting ready to see you next month, I still find myself thinking of him. Wondering what he's doing. Or undoing. He's like my crazy French alter ego. He's a part of me. Literally. Haven't you noticed his likeness etched in my very flesh?
And while I won't walk off and leave you devastated and alone in a forest, AHEM, sometimes, it's just, my heart's really not in it. I know, I obsessed a bit about you in the beginning. No, no, it's true. I did. And I still love you, I really do. But I always find myself back at Lestat.
Forgive me. I'm only human.


It was a song I heard today that brought this about. First, I was jamming to Death Cab's new song from the New Moon soundtrack - Meet Me at the Equinox. Reminded me how excited I am that Rob Pattinson would be coming -shirtless!- to a theater near me. Gives me chills. Anyway, then I plugged in my Ipod and lo and behold, it spits out another Death Cab song. Honestly, the first person it made me think of was my husband. Because I'm absolutely and totally head over heels, make people gag, in love with him.
Then it made me think of Lestat. Now, because I never bonded with either actor that played Lestat, I'm still in love with my own vision of him. Edward, however, has gradually turned into Rob Pattinson for me. And I realize that I love Rob Pattinson more than Edward. Let's face it, Edward doesn't say things like, "I'm just a tool. A big, hard tool." So I almost felt like I needed to apologize to one fictional vampire because I'm still in love with another fictional vampire.
Go on and laugh. I don't care. Edward would forgive me.
So, the song goes like this -

If heaven and hell decide
that they both are satisfied
and illuminate the nos on their vacancy signs
If there's no one there when your soul departs
Then I will follow you into the dark.

I Don't Wanna Grow Up

...I'm a Toys R Us kid, there's a million toys at Toys R Us that I can play with....

Isaiah was talking about Toys R Us a few days ago, so I sang the old song. We can now add that to the list of songs that make him cry. At least he has a reason for this one. When I was finished, he said he doesn't want to grow up, ever. And he's sad that I'm grown up, because then I'm not a Toys R Us kid anymore. After tons of hugs and kisses, I assured him that he's got many years of being a kid ahead of him, so he doesn't even need to think about being a grown up.
I've got one that never wants to grow up, and one that can't WAIT to be an adult.
Yesterday before I left for school, Daimean asked me if I've made any new friends yet. I said no. He said, That's ok mom. You will. I remember my first few weeks at a new school were tough, too. That's pretty typical of Daimean. He's a darling kid.
A darling kid who just got detention again. This time for not handing in his weekly family folder (which I sign each week to verify I received everything) and for talking and not following directions in class. Which is also typical of Daimean. See, here's the thing - his teachers all adore him BECAUSE he's a sweet kid. The school counselor (who meets with him to work on organization and responsibility) started out by telling me what a charming boy he is. *sigh* I KNOW he's charming. But right now can we please focus on his lack of motivation???
Ultimately, he is doing better, and he IS making an effort. I know he's going to get back on track. It's just frustrating for all involved trying to get him there.

Again with the Short Fiction

This was written (by me, duh) for my fiction class. Enjoy. Doesn't have a name, because i'm not feeling too clever today. Suggestions welcome.


I’m laying in bed, the alarm hasn’t gone off yet. I roll over and shut it off before it does, knowing my mom will come barging in here if she hears it. She’s such a freak. Thinks everyone is all rise and fucking shine at 7am.
The night before, I got home late, past my lame ass curfew. But you know what? I was out at Thalia’s, and her parents were gone, know what I’m sayin? I had her begging for it. Straight up begging, like, “Oh Shawn, gimme some!” but no, I didn’t. You know why? Because she’s special. No, I’m serious. She’s not like other girls at school. She’s real smart. She’s always talking about these crazy plans she’s got. Plans to get famous. She wants to be in movies, but, like, serious movies. Not High School Musical kind of shit.
So it was worth it, being late, having mom yell at me. I know she thinks I was over there gettin’ it on and all, but whatever. Let her think what she wants. She knows I don’t get in too much trouble. She’s just mad about curfew because she doesn’t want people to think that she’s a bad, single mom. Thinks all the neighbors are keeping tabs on what time I come home. Whatever. Truth is, she’s a great mom. Just don’t let her know I said that. Don’t want it going to her head.
So I’m walking to school, kinda drifting off, thinking about last night. Heading in through the main entrance, yeah, I noticed a cop car out front, but whatever. I mean, they’re here a lot. Community presence or something. Go to my locker, say what’s up to my boys from the basketball team. We’re getting ready to kick ass in tomorrow’s game against CP South. So I’m looking for Thalia now. I go to her locker, she’s not there. I check out back by the parking lot, I don’t see her car. She drives an old, blue Buick – so it’s hard to miss. I’m thinking, What the hell? She didn’t say anything last night about not coming to school today. If she was gonna cut class, she could have told me and I’d have gone to hang out with her. Whatever. Maybe she’s late. I DID have her up playing around late last night, you know? So I text her and head in to go to my first period English class.
But I don’t get there. Because as I turn the corner in front of the main office, someone grabs my arm. I turn around thinking it’s Thalia, but it’s some big cop, looking down at me like I’m scum. So I’m like, What’s up? Why you grabbin’ me like that? He’s all like some TV cop, talking about, You know why. I’m trying to pull my arm back, but he’s dragging me out the front door. I’m like, Dude, let go of me, what the fuck? I’m trying to pull back and when I turn around, I see Thalia. She’s standing in the door at the office, and she’s crying. So I get away from the jackass cop and I’m calling to her, Thalia! Baby, what’s wrong? And get this. She turns away from me, and some lady cop hugs her and covers her face, like a mother hen or something. So I’m thinking maybe something happened to her parents, or her sister, cause her sister is always sick. She’s got MS or MLS, some shit like that. This fucking cop grabbed me and threw me on the ground! So yeah, I started to fight him because what the hell? My girl’s over here crying and he won’t even let me talk to her.
Alright, so I’m here at the station, and I’ve been sitting here for like two hours. When I asked to call my parents, they said they already called them. I ask over and over why the hell I’m here, and they keep saying cryptic shit like, You think we don’t know what you did? Hell, I don’t even know what I did. They took my keys and my phone. They asked me to write a statement. What is this shit? Are we in China? You want me to write a statement about WHAT??
The door opens, a sloppy looking Indian lady walks in. Indian like, from India. Not like, scalping and tipi kind of Indian. Her hair’s all over the place. She looks like the guidance counselors at school, all business.
“Mr. Thornton, I assume you know why you’re here, so let’s get down to specifics.”
She says while she sets a stack of folders on the table in front of me.
“Look,” I start, as freakin calmly as I can, “I have no idea what you guys want. Some asshole dragged me away from school, and I’ve been sitting here. That’s what I know.”
She looks at me like something she stepped in, and she asks, “Are you telling me that you don’t remember raping Thalia Gomez between 10 and 11pm last night?”

And so that’s how it started. And I guess, how it ended. So now you’re asking me if I think I deserve to be paroled? Hell yes. Do I show any remorse? Just like I told everyone at the trial, and at the court ordered counseling sessions, I didn’t DO anything to feel remorse for, at all. You know, after the trial, Thalia sold her story to a tabloid, I heard she was on the front page. Guess she got famous after all. So you tell me, do I deserve to be paroled?

Beauty School Drop Out

Isaiah went to a pediatric optometrist yesterday, who said he actually doesn’t need glasses. The other doctor had only used a machine to check his eyes, you know, the farmhouse that goes out of focus? He didn’t have a full exam. The dr. said that little kids try so hard to focus on that, it tends to give false readings. He sees just fine! (for now, at least)
SO, the doctor offers him stickers at the end. Huge eyeball stickers that glow in the dark. Awesome, right?
Then he (being Isaiah) takes one off the backing and puts it over his own eye. It’s so big that it covers from his forehead to his cheek. As I’m standing there talking to the dr. he starts to pull it off. And it’s stuck to his eyebrow. Ouch! He’s tugging away on it, and the dr. says, “Be careful, you’re about to do a wax job!”
He gets the sticker off, along with half of his eyebrow. Yes, the dr and I laughed, a lot.
We go up front where Hubs is waiting, and Isaiah walks up to him and puts the sticker on his other eye and says, “Daddy! I’m gonna do a WAX JOB!”
My husband looks at me accusingly, like I’ve just put his son in a dress. Hey, who am I to stifle his tiny wax dreams? I said Don’t worry, if he takes too much off, I’ll just pencil in a nice arch for him :)

Myopia

My baby needs glasses  It’s not a surprise, of course, because both Hubs and I need vision correction. My big guy’s been wearing them since he was 6 or 7. I feel so bad! I didn’t need glasses until I was about 17. And Belly is so much more athletic than his brother. Daimean’s more like me…. Meaning he’s cerebral. Not athletically inclined. Isaiah’s more like their dad – he’s all BOY. How many pairs of glasses is he going to lose or break??? And poor D, the doctor has said we may want to consider letting him get contacts earlier than we might have bc his vision is pretty dang bad. But he likes the way his glasses look, so he’s not unhappy (thank goodness)

Will post pics when the Belly gets his new specs.

Panic! at the School

The school called, it was Mrs. Conway, who is a general office assistant that has probably been working there since the school opened in 1907.
She says, “I’m just calling to check on Isaiah.”
Me: “Okay, what do you need?”
Mrs. Conway: “Is he ill? I have a note here that he’s absent.”
Me: “No, I dropped Isaiah off this morning at school. He’s THERE.”
Pause
Me: “He IS there, right? Why don’t you go and check?!”

She calls back a minute later and says that he is indeed there, he’d been marked TARDY, not ABSENT.

And that took 10 years off my life.

Is it Friday Yet?

No? Seriously? MONDAY?! It's only MONDAY?!

*sigh*

Sooo...... I'm in school, and I'm enjoying it. This homework thing, that's going to be a problem. When do I have time to study and write papers?!?! I DON'T! I'm going to have to get super disciplined (and anyone who knows me knows that's a task and a half) to set aside time for all that needs to be done.
Took the kids to the local skate park yesterday. There may as well be a sign that says "No Moms Allowed" because it was like testosterone village. Of course they loved it. Daddy helped Isaiah with his skateboard, and Daimean rode around with a few friends. It's such a great place for kids to go and just be kids.

Went to the doctor, and when I got on the scale she said, "You're growing... just like the boys!" Then she dropped the smile and said, "And you're not supposed to be." Awwww :( Okay, I get it. Lose some weight. Or get 5 inches taller. So I'm on a diet. This kinda sucks. I want things bc I know I shouldn't have them. Then I get mad for depriving myself. Then I get mad for being weak. Right now, I am totally staying away from my trigger foods. The ones I can't just "have a little" of, it turns into me eating 4 lbs of butter cookies, cake, potato chips. So I'm eating fruits and veggies, which I love, BUT I look longingly at pizza, and burgers :( I also look longingly at size 6 clothes though!

Ugh

I'm sick. This sucks.

Pizza, A Repeat Performance

School started yesterday for me. A panic inducing event. Could I really handle the class load plus everything else in my crazy life? Could I do it well? Are 13-14 hour days going to kill me?
School went well, after the fun game of finding a sitter for the kids at the very last minute. My friend Desiree came through for me (once again1) and monster sat for them. She even provided a pizza dinner. Like most kids, mine LOVE pizza.

At 2am Isaiah woke up and started crying, saying his stomach hurt. He spent half an hour on the toilet and throwing up off the side. Of course he was cold, so I wrapped him in a Star Wars beach towel. It was almost comical, the two of us up in the middle of the night. To take his mind off of his, ahem, predicament, I showed him some LOLcats on my fancy IPhone. We sat there giggling, in the bathroom, until about 2:30. Well, he giggled in between splashing warm pizza vomit all over, but you get my drift. THEN Hubs came home sick at 3am. *sigh*

Thank goodness that when Isaiah was done, he felt better. So good in fact, that he told me a joke, which I will now share as post-puke humor:
Why couldn't the 11 year old see the pirate movie?
It was rated "Arrrrr!"

Yes, lack of sleep has indeed made me delirious.

Destructive Dog = Unhappy Dog Owner

Let's takle a little inventory of all that Ilio has destroyed in the last few weeks.

4 pair of shoes
2 pair of flip flops
2 shirts
1 pair sleep pants
1 wooden slingshot
1 pair of glasses
1 softball
1 teddy bear
3 pair of underwear

I've had it! I'm instituting new dog rules here. He's being demoted in the house heirarchy (as suggested in a training book) and will no longer sleep in my room. He will be confined to the dog room when he is not within my sight. I will buy a muzzle and start walking him more around the neighborhood. I'm not going to let me life be ruled by the dog. I am the master of this domain, dammit!!!

Finally!

Something went right at Northeastern! Holy mother of ... I almost can't believe it. Today I went and GOT my book waiver without having to kill, maim, threaten or otherwise injure anyone. Then I went and got all my books with NO problems. Good thing, too, because that shit cost $308!
So I'm officially ready for the semester to start. Bring it on. The exciting thing? Those books are all totally books I'd read even if I wasn't going to school :)

Not Just Words

Yesterday while I was at work, my mother called and said that Daimean needs stitches. Now, my mom is sorta the Lady Who Cried Wolf so I tend to ignore a lot of what she says. She said he had a huge cut on his finger and that she could see the “meat” sticking out. He claimed he didn’t know how it happened, he just noticed it hurt. So I figured, Can’t be that bad then. Told her to put a band aid on it and I’d assess it when I get home.
Got home and saw the crazy tape job she did on his finger, told him to take that off so we could clean it and bandage it right. He takes it off and yowza – he’s got a hell of a cut on his finger. I ask him how it happened, he says emphatically, “I don’t know!” While there’s no “meat” sticking out, you can see the subcutaneous fat, which is a bit unnerving. Clean it, close it, Neosporin it, bandage it. Ask again how it happened. He sticks with his story that he doesn’t know.
I look my darling child in the eye and say, “You know you can tell me anything. So why aren’t you telling me the truth about this?”
He turns around and walks to his room. Climbs up on his bed and unwraps his Swiss army knife from a tangle of blankets where he’s hidden it. He said I could throw it away.
I explained that I’m not going to take it from him, but that it’s obviously not a toy. We got it for our camping trip. Not to play around flipping the blade open and closed. Which is how this happened.
THEN when I get the rest of the story it just breaks my heart. It had happened the night before, after bed time. He said he was flipping the blade, caught his finger, and panicked. Ran to the bathroom and ran water on it and used tissue to hold over it. Just thinking of him being too scared to get in trouble that he didn’t ask for help is awful. So we talked a LOT about it yesterday. Went over what could have happened. I made him promise that no matter WHAT happens, whether to him or anyone else, he must always come to me or his father for help. Part of our bedtime ritual is me asking him, “Who’s always on your side no matter what?” and his answer is You Are.
Not just words.
I’m careful to make sure that I don’t overreact when he tells me things, asks whack job questions, or does stupid things that can –and do- get people hurt. He’s a kid. It’s his job to find out how the world works, and it’s MY job to try to guide him through it with all of his digital appendages intact.

Today, on As the Woman Whines

Went to Colorado. Loved it. Rode a horse. Went rafting. Made smores. Came back. Dryer not working. Dog continues to eat shoes = bad. Working toilet on 1st floor = good. Financial aid nightmare at NEIU is still going strong. Kids started school. Gained 50 lbs (at least it feels like I have) Foundation giving a hero award tomorrow to family that found baby in trash in Brighton Park. School starts for me soon. Too soon. My family is having another legendary fight. I’m staying out of it. Don’t like this hair length. Must cut it again. Growing out takes too long. Want to go to the movies. Hubs’ days off don’t mesh with mine though. Want to see Halloween II. And The Time Traveler’s Wife. Even though I hate Eric Bana.
I’m being a whiny jerk today.
Want to go home and go to bed.
To spare everyone from listening to me whine.
Hell, to spare ME from listening to me whine!

Vacation Time!

This time tomorrow, I’ll be in Colorado. Breathing in the mountain air (and probably needing an oxygen tank) Just thinking about all I have to do between now and then is making me tired. I think I need a nap. Next update will be post CO. I’ll tell you if I’ve been arrested, thrown from a horse, lost in a national park or if I drop my camera while leaning too far over the side of the canyon.
Stay tuned!

Teen Sets Self On Fire To Imitate YouTube Clip

And his mother is busy blaming YouTube. WTF?! Seriously? Your kid has no common sense, so you blame someone else? Fab.
Makes me wonder what caused this great parenting shift. Back in the day, when you did something stupid, your parents punished your dumb ass. Then they had to suck it up and apologize to others for your behavior. But now, it seems that parents refuse to let their kids accept blame for stupidity and/or refuse to believe their kids ever do anything wrong. Why is this?! They stick up for their kids, and then we wonder why the kids won't ever accept responsibility for their actions. Duh! 'Cause mom and dad said it's not their fault - ever!
Kids who shoot other kids are suddenly "victims" instead of convicts. Kids who steal are "misguided". Kids who bully are defended.
Well I'm sick of it. When my children make poor decisions I expect them to learn from the experience. I refuse to shelter them from right and wrong simply because I love them - because that would really be doing them a terrible disservice. But you know what's bad about that? Sending my kids out in into a world full of "It's not my fault" people and trying to explain their behavior :(
My rant is done, I just needed to share that. *whew* I feel a little better now.

Safe Havens Save Lives - So Why Aren't They Being Used?

On Friday night, on a nice looking street on Chicago's south side, a family was pulling into their garage at about 10:30pm after a day out. An 8 year old boy heard crying, and told his parents. They looked around, didn't see anyone, but they heard it. They were sure they'd heard a baby crying.
They called the police, who came with flashlights and looked around the alley. They focused on a garbage can. You know, the big, deep black ones. With a broken broom handle, they poked around and tried to figure out what was in there.
They lowered the can to the ground sideways to pull everything out. It had rained that day, everything was wet and dirty.
Including the newborn boy they found wrapped in a pair of sweatpants, his umbilical cord still attached. They scooped him up and cleaned him off, and to everyone's relief, he began to cry.
What an awful way to begin your life, by being thrown away by your mother. We met the little boy that heard the baby's cries, and he shies away from being called a hero. But the fact is, that family and those police officers saved that baby's life on Friday night. Instead of shrugging off a strange noise, they got help. That's pretty remarkable in these jaded times where everyone says, "Hey, not my problem."
Well let me tell you something - children being thrown in garbage cans IS your problem. It's my problem. It's their problem.
Until every child born here is safe and cared for -whether by birth parents, adoptive parents, foster parents- this will remain our problem. And we have a lot of work to do to stop it.
No one should begin their life like that.

CBS News Story

Happiness Is...

Driving down the boulevard on a hot, Chicago summer day, in my favorite car ever, listening to my favorite radio station when the DJ plays what he calls “the best cover song ever made”, which happens to be Let’s Go Crazy by Incubus, with my delicious lunch waiting in the seat next to me, while hitting all green lights.
Yeah.

MIA, Again

I know, I know. I've fallen off the bloggy wagon..... I swear I'll be back. Soon.

Fire Ring??

Fire ring? Sounds like an STD. But I have found out that it’s something you’d find at a camp ground. I’m a city girl through and thought, so I’m not quite sure how that works.
You see, Familia Martinez is going camping. Well, almost. We’re going to a camp ground and I will be sleeping in a tiny cabin while the Martinez Men sleep in a tent. I. Don’t. Camp. I don’t pee outside and I don’t sleep in tents. I’m making this concession because we haven’t done anything exciting with the kids in a while, and a trip to Disney World just isn’t in the finances. So Hubs had the great idea that we should get back to nature and what not. So now I’m spending my evenings reading about camping for novices and trying to figure out just what to do with a fire ring.
We have plans to go rafting, hiking and horseback riding. And while it’s not what I would have chosen, I find that I’m truly looking forward to it. It’ll be interesting to take the kids to do things we’ve never done, and to get them away from their video games for a few days.
Of course, my iphone will be in my pocket the whole time. I’ll go, but I won’t leave civilization behind completely :)

Watch Yer Booty, Thar Be Pirates

Isaiah ran into a pack of pirates yesterday. From the looks of it, they accepted him into their ranks.

I *Heart* Incubus

On Tuesday night we went to see Incubus. It was a beautiful night for an outdoor show, and I was close enough to see the lovely contours of Brandon’s bitchin’ abs. Um, I mean, to thoroughly enjoy the music.
This pic was obviously taken right at the start. How can one tell? Mr. Boyd had not yet disrobed.
I’m battered and bruised from the crowd, but it was well worth it. At one point I thought one of my ribs had broken, and was surely splintering into my lung, and I’d probably suffocate right there. Ah, good times. No more General Admission for me! I’m too small for this crap. Getting smashed, crushed…. Oh wait, Staind and Chevelle are playing the Congress Theater next month…. Hmmm…..

***Edit***
This is totally not my picture, but it's from that night :) I had to add it!

This is my kitchen ceiling this morning. There's a leak somewhere. Waiting on a plumber and the home owner's insurance adjuster. This is *not* a nice way to start your day!!!! Hubs came home from work and found water on the floor, started looking for the leak (hence the hole there) and couldn't find it. Of COURSE there's a bathroom directly above the leak. Cross your fingers for me that it's nothing major!!

Work Place Hazards

There’s a fucking ninja star being thrown around my office! It’s getting stuck in the walls! Goddamn it, why can’t I have a normal job, ever?!?

Ilio the Terrible

Wednesday, July 15, 2009
3:15 PM

Yesterday on our evening walk, Ilio acted like a jerk. He barked at every animal around, and topped off the walk by jumping on a woman who rode by on her bicycle. Now, he didn't growl or bark at her, he just jumped….
BUT either his collar, tooth or monster sized paw caught the edge of her shorts and ripped them open. Then he just sat there with his tongue wagging and watched as I apologized left and right and offered to pay her for the shorts. *shakes head* We went straight home after that. I just don't get it. He's such a sweetheart, my gentle giant, when we're in the house. When we're outside, he's got a split personality. I never, ever worry about people coming in the house for the first time and meeting him. Sure, he's big and he's got huge teeth, but he only shows them when he's smiling :) But once the leash is on, he's like a crazy dog.
What else is new this week? My hair is pink. I like it. We're trying to plan a camping trip for next month. My 1st floor bathroom is *almost* done, I swear. Hubs finished the tiling today! I got a birthday card and a check for $100 from a relative I stopped speaking to years ago. And my birthday is in February, but who's counting? So, normally, I ignore small gifts from this person, because I have no real desire to open the lines of communication. This though, this is money, so you can't ignore it. I told the messenger (the non-wanted person's sister) to return it. Thanks, but no thanks. It's not right to accept something from someone you don't wish to have contact with. Am I wrong?

Drumroll, Please

....and the winner is.....macular edema, come on down!!
Scans revealed today that I do, indeed, have fluid bubbling up behind my eyes. Thankfully, since it was "caught" early, it can be treated (hopefully) with non-steroidal stuff. Because steroids are evil, vile drugs with ridiculously horrid side effects. So I have to be monitored every week now, but hallelujah! we have visible fluid, a treatment, and a course of action.
Now please excuse me while I go put eye drops in that will feel like burning ash has been shoved in my eyes.

Hello Brandon!

WooHoo! I'm going to see Incubus on 7/21 at Northerly Island!!! Hubs found out about the show before I did and he got us a pair of GA tickets :) For those of you who aren't painfully aware already, I'm a rabid Incubus fan.

I'm blogging from work right now. As in, it's the 4th of July, and I'm. At. Work. Blech. BUT my working this weekend allows me to take time off later in the month - like the day of and after the Incubus show. So I keep telling myself that it all evens out in the end.

Yesterday I took the kiddies to a bbq at a friends' house. Initially I said I wasn't going to go bc I had too much to do. But my friend talked me into it, and the kids (+1 overnight guest) had been cooped up in the house all day, so off we went. The kids had control over the ipod, so we rocked out to classic Michael Jackson all the way there - and back. The grown ups played volleyball, which was insanely fun. The kids then played badminton, which was hilarious. I'm glad I went :)

Can ipods Swim?

This morning I rolled over and picked up my phone to see what time it was, like I do every morning. The screen was black, but the other lights were on. I stared at it in a half-sleep stupor for a moment before realizing this probably had something to do with the puddle it was sitting in. Yeah. That must be it.
My demented and defective cat knocks over ANY glass, cup or bowl containing liquid if it’s left out. There was a small cup of water on my side table, next to my phone, when I went to sleep. *sigh*
Then Daimean’s looking all over for his ipod. He couldn’t remember if his dad had given it back after adding music to it yesterday, and he was eager to get his morning groove on. I go to the dryer to get his swim stuff out, and find his ipod in the pocket of his swim trunks. Great. It turns on, but will only play when it’s on the radio/dock bc none of the controls work. Poor kid, I think he went in the other room and cried for a minute. He’s heartbroken. He loooves that ipod. But in standard Daimean style, he calmly told me he should have been more careful, and would wait to talk to his dad to see what (if anything) can be done for it.
Ah yes, another catastrophic water day.
At the last minute, I remember that I need to water the fragile grass that we’re barely starting to grow in our pathetic front yard. The dog is upset to see me go out without him, so he jumps up to the kitchen window trying to track my movement outside. Apparently when he got down, his big, bear sized paw hit the edge of the cat box. When I got in, it was flipped over, and cat litter was launched all over.
Not a good day.

The Kiddie Pool AKA Flood of Biblical Proportions

In an effort to beat the heat this weekend, we picked up a kiddie pool. A large one. 12’ wide and about 2.5’ deep. We took down the swing set, and put up the pool. Even took the slide from the swing set and set it up as a water slide. Kids LOVE it.
Yesterday Hubs and I agree that it should be filled a little higher. So Hubs turns on the water. And leaves it on. When I ask him about it later, he casually says that it’s still on, and sure, I can shut it off when I go outside. I go straight outside, shut it off, and am walking toward it to remove the hose when one side was overtaken by water. Just a little trickle, which suddenly pulled down the whole side. Water GUSHED out of the pool and flooded the back yard.
It was hilarious, but the dogs thought the world was coming to an end. Isaiah said, “It’s a good thing I put on my flip flops when I came out!”
The water stopped when the pool decided it was back at the right level, so it wasn’t a total loss :)

Bongo Boy

Usually, when I say "Bongo Boy" I'm referring to Matthew McConaghey and his bongo naked incident. This time, I mean Isaiah.

This morning I was toweling him off after his shower, and I was wearing a fitted black tshirt and cotton pajama pants. He was standing on a little step stool, his face just about chest height to me. (You see where this is going, don’t you?) After I dried his feet and stood up in front of him, he pointed right at The Rack and said, "Those look like bongos."

I explained that those are breasts, and a woman's breasts are private parts, just like he has private parts. He said, "Okay. Your 'rests look like bongos."

Hot Time In the City

Dear God In Heaven, Not Again

Okay, so I don't believe in god, but that's quite beside the point right now. Even atheists and existentialists will say cliched phrases like, "God bless you" or, "Dear god in heaven, not again." Because sometimes, you've got to bring out the big guns so people know you're serious.

My long time blog readers (yes, all 3 of you) will probably remember my horrible time two years back when my eyes went berserk.

Three weeks ago my vision started changing. I went straight to my retinal specialists, who declared my eyes healthy. So today I went to my optometrist, who said, "Something is very wrong here. Vision doesn't just change like this for no reason, we need to find out what's caused this and fix it." She told me to wear only one contact lens, she told me to only update one of the lenses in my glasses. Said we'd run some blood tests. Deja fuckin vu. Dear god in heaven, not again. The same symptoms, the same suggestions.

Last time, it was a month or two from the time my vision changed to the time I started going blind. It wasn't until I started losing vision that a retinal specialist was called in and saw major problems. What if those problems just weren't visible during the first stages anyway? What if it's happening right NOW, and they're looking at everything else because they think they've already ruled this out?

Backstage, Underage...

When I was coming back to work from lunch, Bel Biv Devoe's "Do Me" was the last song I heard before leaving my car. It's always amazing to me how a single song can transport you to another time, make you remember a person or place that you haven't thought of in years. In 1990, I was in 7th grade. *sigh* Wait... what the HELL was I doing singing a song like that?!
Anyway....
Had a great time on Saturday jamming to old music with my friends. It's not often I find people who have the same odd tastes in music as yours truly. The only thing no one seems to dig (or at least admit to) is Elvis. I'm an Elvis girl. But Rob Zombie, Aaliyah, Adina Howard, My Chemical Romance, Shai, Linkin Park, Pink... those were just some of the music that rocked out a suburban kitchen this weekend, and we happily sang along like the old, lame parents that we are.
Blackstreet - that CD was too scratched to play :( I remember seeing them live, how the bass vibrated my ribcage and changed the rhythm of my heart to match the bass line.
I must now go and find their song, Don't Leave.

Put your lighters up (or your lighter apps, iphone users!) and go listen to some of your favorite music today :)

Underwear Nation

Here we go again. Got a call from the school's day camp leader who said that Isaiah pulled up a little girl's skirt today. But here's what I don't understand - The teacher's attitude has flipped 180 degrees from last week. NOW she says it's no big deal, all the kids think it's funny, she just wants me to know. Last week they acted as if he was torturing small animals and well on his way to being a murdering, antisocial psychopath. But NOW it's no big deal. What the …?

Pants Off Dance Off!!

Parental mortification.

It comes when your child does something that you’re so embarrassed about, you debate moving to another state. Okay, he didn’t kill anyone, but ….

Yesterday Isaiah pulled down a little girl’s pants at day camp. I was horrified. All I could think of was this little girl being scared, embarrassed, crying. My husband and I talked to him both together and separately. He wrote a note to the girl that says, “Isaiah M. is sorry. To Emma” It’s a little backwards, but gets the point across. Oh, and did I mention that Emma is not a tom boy – she’s a shy, adorable, tiny little girl. You’d think he could at least pick on someone his own size!?

This morning I march him into day camp and go to the head instructor, and Isaiah apologizes to her. Then I ask for Emma and her parents, and her mom is CONVENIENTLY sitting there in the hallway. I’m ready to defend my little guy and explain that he’s not a malicious perv in training. Her mom was accepting of Isaiah’s apology, Isaiah gave Emma his note, and Emma’s mom had her give Isaiah a hug. We chatted for a bit, and I tried to explain that we obviously don’t condone such behavior. Then she tells me that their biggest problem with it was that Emma thought it was funny. She said that she has a 2 year old boy and for all she knows, it’ll be him doing it next week.

Sometimes I forget how understanding most parents are. Raising kids is kind of a universal experience, we’ve all seen and tackled the same issues. No one wants to be too rigid, only to be the one apologizing next time.

I’m just glad he didn’t end up on the pre-k offender registry.

Wordless Wednesday

Indiana Jones style!

Oh, My Balls!

While giving Belly a bath last night, he started repeating lines he's heard from movies, TV and Youtube. One of them had the word "testicles" in it. So I asked him if he knew what testicles are, and he said no.
Now, Belly's quite big enough to wash himself these days, my Mom duty is only to wash his hair and face so he doesn't blind himself. So I explained that his testicles are below his penis. Of course he got out of the water and yanked it up and said, "You mean these?"
"Yes, dear, I mean those."
He then asks for a run down of penis neighborhood parts and functions. Ever try to explain a urethra to a five year old? Do try, because it's great just to hear them repeat the word.
The he says that there's one more thing down there, but he doesn't know what it is. I ask what, and he says,
"Balls."
with such innocence and openness.
He was delighted to find out that balls are testicles, and to finally get what all the jokes mean when someone gets hit "in the balls."
(You may be asking WHY on earth my five year old would hear those jokes. Two words - Mike Meyers)
So at this point he's out of the bath and getting dried off and I'm trying in vain to get him to stop saying BALLS. So I told him it's not something to joke about, they're private parts. He retorts that private parts aren't BAD. Touche. So I said that it's not a word for kids to say.
Then the light bulb goes off over his mischievous little cherub head and he says, "I won't say it at school, and I won't say it in front of Daddy. I'll just tell you!"
Then he had one last request. "Can I say one more thing?", he asks.
"Sure," I say.
He crouches in classic ball-shot position and yells, "Oh, my balls!"

Oh, the many joys of raising male children!

Where's the Rum?!

Spent Friday having fancy scans done on my eyes, because I'm having some sight issues. Yah, sight, that thing you need to drive, work, etc. They didn't find anything that points to VKH (the rare condition I'd been diagnosed with in 2006) Now there are just no answers about why my eyes are acting all wonky. All I know is my vision is changing, and not in a good way.
I've decided, if I go blind, I'll have to give up my plan to become a teacher. Instead, I'll be a pirate. And I'll wear 2 eye patches. And because I can't see, I'll sail in circles.
My name will be Shipwreck. And I'll hang out with Johnny Depp, of course. Ah, I love a pirate who appreciates a good red wine.

Playing Favorites

Last week, Hubs accused me of blatantly favoring our older son. And at the time, I probably was. You see, some days he's just so much... easier. He wants to please. He wants to be The Good One. He's very agreeable. Helpful. Empathetic.
And the Belly, well... he's the Belly. Some days he's an absolute joy to be with. Other days he's argumentative, stubborn, selfish, willfully defiant.
(And all this time I'd thought he took after Hubs - I may be wrong here)

How do you balance that, especially when the kids are 5 years apart?

Had a really rough day today. Wanted nothing more than to watch a Korean horror movie with an extra large glass of red wine by my side. But my mom came knocking, she'd had a bad day and needed someone to unload on. And so I listened and commiserated. She finally left, but then I found out the dog peed a river on the floor, so instead of relaxing, I started floor cleaning. 15 minutes later I *finally* drop down on the couch, then Belly walks in and says, "I can't sleep. Please come and sit with me?"
I wanted to be mad and scold him, I did. But I couldn't. I took his tiny hand and led him back to bed, where I kissed his head and held him until he fell asleep.

Maybe in the end, this whole favoring thing all evens out.

Oh, and then there's Rob Pattinson....

Defending My Honor

Dear readers,
Maybe you’ve noticed, I like to write. Every English class or creative writing class I’ve taken, I’ve sailed through. Writing is one of my strong points. Far more than speaking, math, art, etc. In my letters about Safe Haven, I can be passionate or persuasive. I can be informative or funny. I can get you fired up or make you cry. I. Can. Write.
However, the Illinois Certification Testing System says that I cannot.
You see, my test results were released today. Got a near perfect score on reading comprehension, but received the minimum passing score on the writing portion. I ask you, how can this be? Even math, the subject that I struggle with, I scored pretty well. But WRITING?! Who the hell scored this? Shakespeare?? Whose standard did I not live up to??!! I must know!

Things I've Screwed Up This Week

My bank account
My friend's birthday
Forgetting awards ceremony
AND forgetting the kids' spring concert.

I'm really on a roll now! Wednesday was the Spring Concert at the kids' school. Have I mentioned how much I love the school?? Anyway - FIVE minutes before we're set to leave, Daimean tells me he's supposed to dress like a hobo. So I whip up a hobo costume in five minutes. Then he tells me he can't find his shoes (while I'm desperately trying to find something approprate to wear in the 90 degree heat) but he's SURE they're in the car. Fine, I say, just put them on when you get in the car, and he proceeds to walk out in his socks.
Halfway to school I ask him if he's got his shoes on, and he says no, they must be at school.
After threatening to send him to a boarding school in Malaysia, we park and he walks into the school WITH NO SHOES ON. I have never been so embarassed in all my life.

Cloning 101

This is getting ridiculous. My brain obviously doesn’t work any longer. My internal calendar is broken.

First, I forget my BFFs birthday. Then today, I blank on an awards ceremony at an alternative HS. What the hell is wrong with me? And now that I think about it, I left a load of laundry in the washer this morning and forgot to throw it in the dryer before I left for work. *sigh* A mother’s work is never done.

You know who’s going to perfect cloning? A mom. Because we need to be in 6 places at one time, attend meetings, work, remember basketball practice, do laundry, cook meals consistently, pack lunches for field trips….. And it’s hardly possible for one person to do it all. And how am I supposed to manage going to school if I can’t get things straight NOW?!

I *did* actually make it to the awards ceremony, and brought the certificate of recognition with me. Thanks to a flexible work schedule, I can also pick up Belly at 3pm because he cried when I told him he needed to go to after care today. And when I get there, I’ll finish the laundry, check homework, prepare for BOTH of the financial aid meetings I have tomorrow, and possibly, maybe even cook dinner.

Stop the world. I want to get off!

I am a Terrible Human Being

You know when everything seems to be happening all at once,and it's all you can do to remember what day is it? Well guess what? I do NOT know what day it is. In fact, I'm four freakin days off.
Today I bought a birthday card for my best friend. It's a card that says "Sisters are a gift from God" and it shows an angel. On the inside, the angel has turned evil and it says, "An angry, vengeful God!"
I thought it was hilarious. And I actually said to myself, hurry up and mail this because you've only got two days until her birthday. Because her birthday is May 16th. Duh, because it falls on the same day every year, and has for the last 20 some years that I've known her.
So what's the problem?
I thought today was May 14th. And it is not.
Just checked my bank account online and was startled by the relatively large balance, because in my mind, it's not payday yet.
Which means not only did I *NOT* call my best friend on her birthday, I also am late in paying bills.
What the hell is wrong with me?! I've officially lost it. So where did those 4 days go? Have I been in a fog? A disassociative fugue??
I feel awful :(
And if you're reading this, Angie, I'm sorry that I'm an awful friend, and a terrible human being.

Love Me Cancerously...

That Ludo song, “Love Me Dead” has been *stuck* in my head for a week now. You’ve got the sign of the beast, you’re born of a jackal! (If that makes no sense, then you HAVE to hear the song)

What is love? It’s when you want to hang out with your spouse more than anyone else. When does love make you cry? Only when you’re laughing so hard that you can’t stand up. Like I was yesterday. In fact, just thinking about it made me snort just now.

What is a parent? It’s the two otherwise sane and adult people who are excited to attend the upcoming Teddy Bear picnic with their 5 year old. I’ve never been to a teddy bear picnic and wonder if I have to bring my own teddy bear, or is it enough to sit with Belly’s bear?

What is the very definition of cougar behavior? It’s me, having impure thoughts about Rob Pattinson.

Enough with the questions, that gets tiresome. My Sister’s Keeper is coming out soon, based on the novel by Jodi Picoult. She’s one of my favorite authors, and I’m excited about the movie. Speaking of movies, I saw the preview for this when I went to see Angels & Demons this weekend. The woman sitting next to me kept talking back to the movie and saying things like, “Damn! No, no… don’t go in there!” I wanted to elbow her IN THE FACE! The ironic thing was that her phone rang at some point, and she picked it up and whispered that she was at the movies and couldn’t talk, then shut it off… then went back to yelling at the screen. *sigh*
That’s seriously one of my biggest pet peeves, people talking during movies.

What are your pet peeves?

What Kind of a Mother Would...?

We're all guilty of using that phrase, either out loud or in our heads. I don't like that phrase. I hate it when something like that pops into my head for something less than blatant child abuse.
What kind of a mother would say that to her child?
What kind of a mother lets their kid watch TV all day?
What kind of a mother doesn't read to her child?
What kind of a mother lets her kids speak like that?
What kind of a mother site on blogger reading about other people's kids instead of playing with her own?!

Umm.... yeah. I think I have to go now!

Cementing My Status

...as World's Coolest Mom. At least in the eyes of my own son, and that's all I care about.

D had a field trip this week. So I packed him a lunch, made sure he wore a school logo shirt, had his cell phone charged, etc. But on the way to school I realized he didn't have any cash. Not even a few dollars for water or ice cream. When I was a kid I *hated* that. So I pulled into a gas station to use the ATM on the way to school. No luck, Hubs had the card. So I dropped him off with a promise to return with money.
When I returned, the principal told me they'd left already, but if I hurried, I could catch the bus in front of the other building.
So I drove. Fast. and I pulled in front of the busses so they couldn't leave. I walked right onto the bus... oops, wrong bus.
So I walked right onto the NEXT bus and gave D his money, and received cheers from him and his classmates.
He says I rock.
And if he thinks so, it must be true.

Reflections on Momma's Day

Mom's aren't perfect. Me, I spend most of my time just trying not to do anything that will mess my kids up. As an adult I'm trying to have some kind of functional relationship with my own mother. It's not easy. I hope that right now I'm laying the groundwork for a good relationship with my adult children.
But enough about my neuroses.

Today I got a tiny potted flower, a movie, wildflower seeds, a faaaabulous pair of shoes and a necklace. Because mother's day is all about presents, right?

Lemme tell you about my card. Are you familiar with lolcats?? My darling Hubs and my very funny boys made me a Lol card, with a pic of my two comedians on the back. How cool is that??

Oh and the best of all..... and the one that will land my kid in therapy.... is a scene from Star Wars that Belly drew for me. It's got me as Leia, him as Darth Vadar, and a very angry Anakin after his hand gets cut off. Am I the only mom who got a drawing of an amputated, bloody arm stump? I bet I am! I'm so lucky!!

Breaking the Toilet? Seriously?

For three nights in a row there have been disturbances on my street. This makes me very angry. And last week, someone broke into the house next door. It's vacant and up for sale, oh joy. Last night some moron was laying on their horn at 3am until a woman went outside and, sounding like an angry mom, put and end to it. Tonight some drunk vagrants were smashing a toilet in the alley. Seriously? A toilet? Luckily I have large, male neighbors who just happened to be out in their garage at the time. They put a stop to it, but not before crazy drunken toilet vandal made off with his newly acquired toilet seat. Ew.

And Hubs wonders why having a big hulking dog is such a good idea?

Today the kiddos and I got to enjoy the lovely weather at the park. Rollerblades, a football, a skateboard and a conveniently placed ice cream man. Really, does it get any better than that?

Happy Birthday, I Smashed the Car!

Yes, that's what I said to Hubs on Tuesday when I came home for lunch. Well, maybe "smash" is a bit strong. I scraped the car. On another car. In front of the kids' school. Yeah, could it be more embarrassing?? 15 years I've been driving and I've never done this before!
Allow me to state my case (because it's MY blog, damnit) There was a truck double parked, and a parking spot to the left of it. I *thought* I had enough space to get past the truck and pull into the spot. Not so, said the law of physics (or whichever one says something about two bodies not being able to occupy the same space)
So it was the parent of a kid in Belly's class... of course. Whose wife knows me. Of course. So the guy is super nice - and I was trying desperately to send ESP messages like, We're in front of a church, you can't get mad, come on, what would Jesus do?
Thankfully, the only thing that happened is his turn signal stopped working. Yeah well probably because I pulled the light housing away from the body of the car (details, details) but that it won't be hard to fix. Of course I said we'd pay for the housing or wiring or whatever it needs. How? Am going to sell a kidney, that's how. I only need one, right?
So, on Hubs birthday, HE spent an hour making ME feel better and telling me it's no big deal. My car has a tiny dent by the back door, but it seems pretty awful to me.

And let's not forget the embarrassment factor here. Yes, the new head of the annual fundraiser committee at the school (yes, moi) is spreading goodwill by smashing up cars in front. Ah, good times.

Not Fit For This

Yesterday I went to take the ICTS (or some other acronym from hell) basic skills test. It's a 5 hour test. Five hours. What the hell is testing me for that long going to prove? That I can sit still? Well, I can't.
Thankfully, I was done in 3.5 hours, but STILL. There were so many reading selections, I found myself eager to get to the math portion. And I really dislike math. Then I found out that the math portion was NOTHING like the practice test. So there I am, my eyes crossing from this marathon testing session, and trying to find the flaw in a sample algebraic equation. It's a good thing I'm proficient in other areas, because I'm sue I blew that one.
But now the test is over, and out of the way. Only thing left to do now is, well, actually return to school.
*gulp*

Thank you!!!!

Look at what my awesome friend did for me!!!!!!! The middle is a quilt square that Golden Boy made in school a looong time ago. Me, being the non-domestic diva that I am, cannot quilt to save my life. Once, I opened up a sewing machine box and even with the instructions I couldn’t discern which part went where. Anyway, my friend Jeannette makes quilts, and she offered to make one for me using Daimean’s piece as the center square. The pic absolutely doesn’t do justice to the quilt, but I had to post it!

Thank you, Jeanette!!

ADD, ICTS and other Acronyms

This is the second time I've attempted to take the ICTS practice test. The first time, I got through the instructions before the noise in the house made me give up. This time I answered 5 whole questions before realizing that I couldn't focus on the content due to small people doing things that small people do. Now, I'd like to totally blame this on the small people, I really would, but I know I can't. Simply stated, I have the attention span of a mosquito.
I've long known that my ADD is at odds with my OCD. (Yes, I took too many psychology classes, AND I read Psychology Today, so I can self diagnose with the best of 'em) Like yesterday, I suddenly decided I no longer liked the artificial acrylic covering my nails, so I spent 45 minutes tearing them from my fragile fingertips. Now I have tender nailbeds and really horrid looking nails, but no matter, because I've suddenly got to clean the ceiling fan.

iContent

Today was a beautiful day in the 'hood. So I spent some time outside watching the kiddos ride their bikes down our lovely tree lined street. Of course I had my iPod stuck to my ears, what, was I going to listen to the kids scream at each other while racing?? So, in an effort to retain my inner peace, I was listening to Mozart. Low enough so I could still hear the randomness around me, of course. But instead of random noise, I thought I heard something .... different. So off went the headphones for an audio investigation and to my delight, it was birds I was hearing :)
I never noticed birds much before we moved into this house. Now they're all over the place. Cardinals, blue jays, and some little things that sing their hearts out all day. And so, I stood there, smiling, because all is right in my world tonight.

11 Years

The card attached to these gorgeous flowers that came to me at work today read:
"11 years, that's all? I can do another 11 standing on my head."

Ah, yes, I do love that man of mine :)

Rubber Ducky

Belly's an intense little guy. He just is. So I wasn't surprised yesterday to be sitting with him and listening to Ernie sing, "Rubber Ducky" and look over and see tears in his eyes. He couldn't explain why it made him cry, he just knew the song choked him up.

Everyone has a song like that, right?? Okay, maybe it's not a Sesame Street song, but hey, he's only 5. I'll tell you mine. It's "Wonderful" by Everclear.

What's yours? What song gets a reaction out of you every time?

I Love Hugh Jackman, Too

Belly: What does 'oranges' mean?

Me: They're fruit.

Belly: *shakes head* No, no. Or-an-ges.

Me: It's a fruit, or a color. Come on, you know this already.

Belly: *shakes head and waves hands in front of him* No, no. ORANGES.

Me: *lightbulb* Oh, 'origins', like XMen Origins?

Belly: Yeah, that.



Ah, the joy of Pre-schooler to English translation.

Jokes and Office Politics

Last night D did a stand up comedy routine on stage at the school's Talent Show. He was calm, poised and hilarious :) If you'll forgive the shaky camera thing, I'll post it later.

The job is going better. Although, a strange thing happened today. A woman came up and told me she owed me an apology.
Last week I was a bit petulant when asked to sort paperwork for a few reps. I said some shitty things, like "I can already staple the SHIT out of some paper. What I NEED is someone to take the time to explain the damn paper work."
Afterwards I heard that someone complained about me to management. Great way to start a new job, right? But then someone else had agreed with me and said so, and in the end, it amounted to nothing.
Anyway, the woman came up to me and said that she'd been too judgemental last week over the paperwork mess, she'd judged me and my response too harshly, and she was very sorry. That took some nerve, and so I told her it was okay, she's forgiven.
And do you know what? It never occurred to me that maybe *I* should have apologized to them for my less than stellar behavior and snarky comments. Hm, maybe I'll do that tomorrow.

Then again, probably not. I've got a reputation to uphold, afterall.


Today is my grandpa's birthday, so I went to visit him with a card and a balloon. He's such a great guy, I just adore him. The look on his face when I told him I'm going back to school to be a history teacher was priceless. You see, my grandpa is all about history. Personal, country, world. He's my hero. He raised a family, including a child that wasn't his, but was never treated different for even a moment. A child with developmental delays and learning disabilities, who was always loved and supported. He defended this country over many years as a chief in the Navy. For me, his only grandchild, he always had a smile and a few bucks for ice cream - for me AND all my friends. He's got a great sense of humor, he's the most dependable human I know, AND he gives great hugs :)

Me Against the World

And a big thank you to Tupac, rest his tattooed little soul, for supplying today's title.
HB3925 passed, AFTER our esteemed lawmakers took out all the important parts. Seriously, some days I wonder if other countries are this ass backwards. Then there's HB2354, which I'm supporting because, well, I'm a woman and I have a brain.

That's me in the house gallery, preparing to take over the world. Yes, with a smile.

Yesterday I picked up my new car. Just like this one here:

Well, except it's black. So I'm all excited, right, because I'm back in a Jetta where I belong - and today I won't drive it because it's buried in snow. Come on, mother nature, cut me some slack!

Next week my darling Daimean will turn 11. I can hardly believe it. The school's talent show is Wed, and he's doing a stand up comedy routine, all stolen from Dane Cook. I asked him to please not use the Jesus jokes....

As Close to Heaven

Last night, after my first day at the new job, wading through my tax stuff, sending a credit app for a second car, and sadly kissing Hubs good bye on his way out to work.... Belly was tossing and turning, unable to sleep. I went and stretched out next to him in bed, he curled his arms around me and tucked his head just under my chin, and I realized that moment must be the closest thing to heaven on earth. To be able to comfort someone who wants nothing more than *you*, and to lose the stress of the day in just one hug. Truly amazing.

Mrs Me Goes to Springfield

I'll be in Springfield for a few days to gather support of HB 3925, which will expand the Safe Haven law in IL. Read all about it here
It's exciting for me because I actually enjoy politics and seeing how everything works (or in some cases, doesn't work) within our government. And, being the lover of history that I am, I enjoy visiting places like the Lincoln Presidential Museum.
Since I was always working when these trips came up before, I took advantage of my jobless state and agreed to go. AND it gave me a perfect excuse to put off starting the new job right away :)
Now, I'm off to use my extensive powers of persuasion on our state reps, enjoy working with my friends, and continue saving the world, one baby at a time.

On Being Thankful

Got the self pity out of the way last night. Had to. Wasn't looking at it the right way, a cognitive mistake, that's all. I'm better now, really. Thankful. Optimistic. I swear it.
Well, this helps, too.

On Starting Over

I got the job today, the one where my friend will be my boss. Ironically, THAT isn't what I'm having problems with. We're adults, and professional adults at that - I'm sure we'll be fine. It's the starting over thing. Going from having my own office and lots of flexibility to sharing an office with 10 people and having zero seniority. From being the one who answered questions to being the one asking them. And the pay cut - did I mention the pay cut? Yeah, to the tune of $16K. Ouch. To be fair, since my severance ran out a week and a half ago, technically I make nothing now, so maybe I should look at is as a BIG increase. And I'm trying to, I really am. I'm sooo trying to stay positive. My friend warned me before I went in there, he said, "The place is a dump." Sure, coming from where I was before, everything else looks like a dump. He said he was worried that I'd be unhappy with the pay, and I assured him I'd be okay. They called me half an hour after I left the interview to offer me the position. They said they knew I was looking for more money than that, and said they're willing to re-negotiate in a few months. I should be happy - so why do I feel like crying?

Meh.

That's how I feel. Blah. Bleh.
Meh.
Got to wait until August to start school.
Got to wait for Hubs to get up to finish the bathroom tile.
Got to wait for the economy to shore up to get a job.
Got to replace the dead microwave.
Got to get the dogs rabies shots.
I'm feeling like everything is a big To Do list.

But I *am* going to see How to Be this weekend, and I have a dinner date tonight, and Daimean's doing a reading at family mass this weekend (don't start, I still hate organized religion, but they offer a much better school than the public ones that my tax dollars do) so okay, maybe I'm just feeling down.

*glances at calendar*

Nope. It's PMS. Ahhh, so that explains it! Guess I'll be back to normal in a few days then. Please, carry on with what you were doing prior to coming and getting engulfed in my whining.

Something OId Does Something New

Allow me to tell you what I learned about snowboarding....
1) it's harder than it looks
2) kids are much, much better than grown ups
3) it's freakin expensive - not a sport for us poor inner-city kids
4) it's the most fun you'll ever have on a frozen hill

So, for my birthday this year I wanted to try something different. I'm not sure where the idea came from, as I hate cold weather and normally opt to stay inside. Methinks my husband suggested it at some point and then once I decided, I would not be swayed. It was a balmy 20 degrees, maybe 5 or 10 when you factor in the windchill. We had SO much fun though! Now I'm totally going to be buying some used equipment so we can do this again.
Belly was fearless. And he was great. D was the first to really wipe out, and as he lay on the frozen ground with his board at an unnatural angle away from his body, he threw a thumbs up and yelled, "That was awesome!"
Yep, that about sums it up.

An Ode to Parenting, In 2 Acts

Act 1
Setting: Kids room, getting ready for bed
Time: Evening

Son: But I'm starving! I can't go to bed, I'm too hungry!
Mom: You already ate dinner and a snack. Get in bed. Now.
Son: But I didn't get to play with my toys! Or play Wii! Or take over Canada!
Mom grabs TV remote and switches to "Supernanny". Kids are transfixed.
Mom: You are not the boss here, mister. If you don't start following directions, I will have that mean fat lady come over here and whip you into shape. Now, do you want that?


Act 2
Setting: Kitchen, mom is making breakfast
Time: Mid-morning, today

Son: Hey mom, what do you think would make a good Saturday morning, pre-breakfast snack?
Mom: Sunday
Son: You think I should have a sundae before breakfast?!
Mom: No, sweetie. The day. It's Sunday.
Son: Wha... how...? Time is playing dirty tricks on me!

When One Door Closes

Yesterday someone asked me, Do you want a job? Now, this is someone who has asked me this before, and never has anything I deem Jesse-worthy going on. So I said no. He said, This time it's different, and proceeded to lay it all out. Easy work, close (VERY close) to home, and flexibility for when I start school. I'm sold. We'll see what happens.
Yesterday I made chicken soup to combat the deep freeze our city has fallen into. For Isaiah, I made tiny alphabet pasta and gave it to him with just enough broth to cover it. Basically, a bowl of noodles. He refused, complained, cried and finally threw up when I told him to eat what he was given. After all that mess, do you know what he asked for? Ramen - A BOWL OF NOODLES! *sigh*
In an effort to keep the dogs off the furniture, I purchased a ScatMat. A plastic mat that gives a slight electric shock (feels like a static shock, I tested it to make sure I wasn't going to fry them) and for the FIRST time in forever - the dogs are laying on their own blankets on the floor. It was a pricey piece of plastic, but well freakin worth it.

AND I found out why Daimean has been waking up in the middle of the night. He'd been setting the alarm on his cell phone for 3am!!!! Oh yes, that has been stopped.

Thanks, But No Thanks

That's what I got back from the company I interviewed with last week. I'm not surprised, as the dept manager seemed disinterested, and was wary of me applying for a lower position than I'd been in previously. Ah well, back to the job boards.

Isaiah is getting over being sick, and he's very, VERY sensitive today. Cries at anything.
Daimean is currently crying over his homework, because he didn't turn in all the missing stuff he was supposed to last week, and guess what? Mom's not happy. So I tell him that, plainly and calmly, and Isaiah gets upset. I tell Isaiah I'm frustrated, and he starts to cry.
He sees a cut on my thumb, and starts to cry.
He's out of chopsticks, so he cries.
You see a pattern here?