Off-Topic Tuesday

(Yes, I do realize how dangerously close I'm getting to using cute catch-phrases for all the days of the week on this blog. I have contacted the necessary officials and the matter should be cleared up shortly.)

Anyway, I was listening to Air America this morning (aaghh! run & hide -- chunkyrhino is LIBERAL!), and while I usually stay away from politics on the blog (which as those of you who know me understand how hard that is for me, but also how necessary; heart attacks run rampant in my family, no need to stoke the fire) I felt compelled to write a little about a topic they were covering this morning.

Actually, it's not even a political issue per se, just a national issue, and one I'm surprised hasn't surfaced on a national level earlier.

The talk show host was mentioning an email he'd received from a listener who also happens to be a commander in the Armed Forces, commenting on how although he understands and supports the rationale behind the national show of support for the citizens who lost their lives last week at VA Tech by flying the flag at half mast, he is confused as to why no one flies their flags at half mast every time we lose a soldier overseas in the never-ending pissing game that is the war in Iraq.

I was awestruck at what a simple yet symbolic act this would be as a way of showing support for our troops, and flummoxed by the reality that no one has done this sooner, at least not on a national level.

Why not? Why not show the same support to the kids who lose their lives on an almost daily basis, fighting in the name of our country? I'm not sure why it's not already put into practice, but I don't see why we can't start now.

Let's talk to our employers and the places of business we frequent who fly the flag and request that they honor our fallen soldiers from now until the end of the war ( no timetables, please -- we wouldn't want to put any pressure on the "Decider") by flying their flag at half-mast. Let's start a grass-roots movement! (YeeHaw!!)

It might not be huge, but it's doable. It's something. And it's (gasp!) NON-PARTISAN. Red, Blue, Green...we all understand the sacrifices being made, let's at least unite by honoring them, without worrying about which side is right or wrong.

Otherwise, what's the point?

The Circle of Life

Okay, so here we are again, illness dumped on us like the tons of chains cascading on the bad guys in that movie of movies, "Twins".

Shawn's down with strep, the kids have genetic diseases lurking all around, and now I've got nerve damage that would take your breath away.

Seems like we just can't resist bringing it on all at once, huh? There's got to be a hidden meaning or something in that. I've just removed myself from some major drama, thinking I would be able to breathe and relax and enjoy life more, only to open the door to this mess.

I know one moved out of the way to make room for the other, but would it be a crime to ask all of the wolves to just take a vacation for a month or two? Would that be so bad? I hear Hawaii is beautiful this time of year.

...And the Band Played On (aka "What the Hell Wednesday")

Shit just keeps gettin' better on our end, peeps. Took Jax with me to Ryan's kindergarten registration, and now I'm pretty sure we'll all be blacklisted there from now until eternity.

He did okay at first, sucking on the lollipop that they attached to a balloon for him, following the BIG BOYS around, chattering and nodding his head. I was amused to the point of literally being tickled, until he took off for the janitor's closet, and they started bringing the students in for lunch, which meant we had to get up and get out.

Not quite through with my paperwork, I gathered everything up, chased him away from the mop bucket, and herded him onto the cafe-gym-itorium stage where I attempted to coax him to calmness with crayons,. I should have known better, and am constantly amazed at how naive I am when it comes to my son. Of course he's gonna start marking the stage, of course, he's gonna see how far he can jump off the stage, of course, he's gonna let his balloon go and then scream until I climb onto a chair to retrieve it. And this is only 30 minutes in.

We finally make our way to the real line, which is oh, about 12 people deep and serviced by only 2 office staff. In other words, we were looking at a wait. I'm used to this, I don't even blink when he runs around in circles, or puts his feet on the wall, or shock of all shockers -- tries to grab more balloons from the rainbow jungle they've got set up right on front of us. Not even a blink from me, until the elementary mommy mafia start in on him, staring, whispering, laughing...Still, I barely bat an eye. He runs, I chase. He grabs a balloon, I take it back. He heads into the front office to massacre their files, I push them back in an orderly fashion. Same old, same old.

Or not.

At first, all the parents in line are chuckling along, marveling at what a "wonderful ball of energy he is", but then, when he actually puts one of the wrapped lollipops in his mouth, the facade cracks. "Why don't you just give it to him," Mommy Mobster #1 sneers, "he's already put it in his mouth anyway, we can't hand it out now."

"Oh, sorry", I mutter, all at once cut down by her tone and glare. So I unwrap it, hand it to him, and sit him against the wall next to me, where he lasts all of 3 minutes before heading off down the hall again. This is when Mobster #2 approaches me, wielding crayons and paper. Bless her stupid little heart. "Thanks," I smile, thinking, "yeah, right."

I make an effort anyway, sit him down at the wall, put the crayons in his hand, and point him towards the paper. Not 5 seconds after I'm back in line, he's attacked the floor with crayola, and has his feet banging against the quintessential elementary sound-proofing attempt: the carpeted walls. The Mommy Mafia is sitting on the other side of said wall, and all 3 of them quickly come about to see what on earth could be causing such a ruckus. Hmmm, I wonder...

Right about then, Mobster #2 grabs one of the office staff, whispering and pointing in my direction, coming up for air to glance at Jax and say, "We're going to go ahead and move you up in the line so you can get him out of here." Great, just what I need. As if I'm not annoying enough with my own personal little Tasmanian Devil by my side, now I get to cut in front of all the other tired parents who've been waiting longer than me. Perfect.

So up we go, Jax trotting along, me walking with my eyes downcast, mumbling apologies. Then? Well, then they make me wait at the front of the line while the Office Gestapo finishes with the previous parent. So now I get to stand there in front of my child's peer's parents, as they burn my face into their brains, remembering me as the ONE WHO CUT. That should help us make friends.

Meanwhile, Jax hasn't taken a beat -- he keeps right up, attacking the copy machine, being shooed away by Mommy Mobster #3, lurching at balloons that they have left everywhere, dumping crayons all over the floor. So here I go, chasing him around this 12x12 room, making a complete fool of myself as a parent and a human being, giving the people I've pissed off even more ammunition to use against me, when my friend, who I've also cut in front of, but in the worst way -- she was the next in line -- asks me if she can take Jax for me.

I have great friends. I really do, and most of them are always willing to try and help out when needed, but the problem is, I want to keep my friends, and with Jax, it's a crap shoot. I tell her that it's okay, I'll just hold him while I wait, but then he starts hitting me, and rather than spank him and scream, which, you know, is what I do, I look at her and hand him over. So now, not only have I cut in front of her, I've now handed her Satan's Minion to hold while she waits even longer.

Finally, it's my turn to face the Gestapo, and if you thought the staff at the DPS was bad, you need to visit the office staff on kindergarten registration day. If I hadn't already been pissed off at everyone around me, I actually might have been scared. She pulled one of those, "I'm so irritated I can't even talk to you, I'll just gesture until you figure out what I want" moves, which I love, and which really just sealed the deal for me right then and there. All I needed from her was a snap in my direction, and we would be researching Private Schools right now.

Once she finished assassinating our records and my dignity, I moved over to the nurse, ready to get outta dodge, only to be told that Ry still needs one more MMR. Another point for MOTY!!!

I get all the instructions, and then she mentions that if I want to stop by the PTA table to buy supplies early, I am welcome to. Sure, then maybe we'll all get naked and dance the hokey-pokey.

I walk off, eager to grab Jax and get home so I can discipline him properly (relax, I just put him to nap), when the PTA Gang starts calling out, Ma'am! Ma'am, wait!" I turn with a look that can only be described as :ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?? I'd just stood in front of these yahoo's for 20 minutes, chasing down Jax, and now they think I want to subject myself and the rest of the room to more torture? Are the masochists?? I had been on the fence about joining the PTA, what with all the cattiness and gossip I so abhor (outside of my family and friends, that is), but I'm pretty sure that after today, I'll be declining any invitations they may absent-mindedly extend.

Next year's gonna be a hoot, I can just FEEL it.

Bad Mood Dude

Oy vey. I'm not sure if it was the 10:30 pm fight with Shawn last night (I moved his sock drawer without asking him -- ladies, this is a bigger deal than you think - BEWARE), the midnight dealings with both my kids, or the fact that due to both of the previous incidents, I ended up sleeping on the couch. Whatever the reason, Mama Ain't Happy...

Already inundated with trying to get the house back in order ( you'd think it would be easier, but then again, you don't have a Jax ), having to register Ryan for preschool, setting an appointment with the radio sales people for Mommy and Me, figuring out when we'll be able to meet for Mommy and Me, seeing as how we all have kids and no free time, an A/C that's broken AGAIN, and having to get Ry to and from school this morning without murdering anyone, the last thing that needed to come across my desk was the email from a woman whose belongings I have because 1)she left them where I was mistakenly, 2) she didn't come get them from their original location when she said she would, 3)I'm way too nice and agreed to hold them at home for her.

Apparently, she lives on the other side of Austin from us, which means she's, like, 15 minutes away*massive eyeroll in progress*, and feels that's too far to drive. So she's been asking me to hand over the stuff to Shawn to take to work 'cause it's right by her house. He doesn't want to do it because he's Shawn, and cannot be bothered with mundane Mommy-shit, and I really don't want to make him because it's a $4 bag of crap that she should just get off her keister and come pick the shit up for the love of all that is holy.

Let me be clear: I do not know this woman from Adam. I was doing a favor for a virtual stranger, who can't read instructions and screwed up, and now it has come back to bite me in the ever-growing ass. Last week, when Shawn declared his unabashed non-willingness to help me out, I told the woman that he would not be at his location for the rest of the week, suggesting she pack up her mini-van and drive the 15 miles to my house to pick up the items. That was Wednesday of last week. Since then, I'd heard nothing until today, when I finally received a one-line reply stating: "Will he be there this week?"

So now I'm just right there at the edge of "let's go wield a large rifle and hunt a bitch down" (please know I'm kidding -- this is not a threat on someone's life -- sheesh), and I don't know how to handle the situation. Should I lie and say that he won't be there the rest of the year, that the Texas-based BBQ establishment has setup digs in Namibia and he'll be away for a while, or should I just tell her to suck it up and come get them from me, I dare you, or should I turn the other cheek and just ask for her address and deliver them myself?

I know what I should do, but when does "turning the other cheek" turn into " becoming a doormat"? WHERE DOES THE MADNESS END???????

Quit Yer Bitchin'

Lea Ann says I've been sucking at this blog business lately. Thank you, I KNOW. I haven't seen Shawn in 2 days, I had Ry's teacher's bday to coordinate, a house to keep moderately non-toxic, 1001 things to do for Mommy and Me, and I've become the hunch-back of Mommy-ville with all the computer time I'm logging this week. Whew. Complaining can be soo exhausting, right?

Anyway, here's what's up: We had a Mommy and Me event at our local Chick Fil A Tuesday night. The cow was there. Fun was had.

On Wednesday I had the top layers of my two index fingers removed via our dvd player. Don't even think about asking me the how's or why's. All I feel like saying is The Little Mermaid is free and we've since been watching CARS non-stop. And now I'm more certain than ever that this family is electronically cursed.

Today was pretty okay until it was time to deliver Ms. Laura's gift. How cute is that anyway? The kids gave us words describing her, we made a design and put it on a tote bag and filled it with gifts from the kids. ANYWAY, while waiting for the class to return from their Texas Day activities, Jaxson decided to go balls-to-the-wall Destructor on me, attacking other children, breaking into nearby classrooms in order to ransack any and all toys not secured to the wall or floor, then led me and the 9 other mothers waiting in the hallways on a wild goose chase, wherein I broke my flip-flop and thus ended up workin' it hillbilly style in my bare feet. (No worries, I'm from Tomball -- I'm quite used to the hillbilly look) Once I did finally manage to locate and secure the rebel package, he managed to finally successfully fling himself out of my arms and onto the floor. Thank God he landed on his head -- that thing must be made of steel and covered in bubble wrap. Also? He's advanced from slapping my face when angry to pinching me on my cheeks, arms, back, etc.. Little tiny pincer-like pinching. So that's neat.

Anyway, I'm tired. My back hurts, and my brain stopped functioning 10 minutes ago.

Later.

P.S. Here's a pic of my bare foot driving home from preschool. Apparenetly, no matter how swamped I am, I always have time to take meaningless pics of myself while driving. I am that cool.

When the Shit comes MARCHing In

Last year it was January. This year it looks like our month of hell will be March. Fitting, since that's when EVERYTHING is happening.

I'm so sorry I haven't posted in so long, but like I said...March walked in and I bent over.

Friday was average, I guess. I had the kids signed up for Family Friday at the Y, thinking Shawn and I could get a few hours alone to just, umm, sit. Funny Mommy.

The drop-off went well, but then I didn't see Shawn until just before 6. One of my favorite bits about being married to a restaurant manager is the way they are never able to make plans with anyone other than the restaurant. She is my husband's mistress, and she and I are fixin' to throw down. Except for the whole "Sugar Mama" aspect of it -- I kinda like that he gets paid to be with her, so I guess I'll shut up now.

Two hours with no kids, so naturally we stayed home, drank beer and watched Def Comedy Jam -- not a complete waste after all.

We picked the kiddos up, stopped for ice cream, and had a semi-slumber party in our bed, watching Open Season, and delivering Jax to his bed when he just wouldn't sit still. All the while, Shawn's in his Blackberry, texting his managers who have all gathered at a bar and are requesting his presence. Too exhausted to do anything with me, but he can go out till 3 am with his WORK buddies who he sees, like, ALL THE TIME. Whatever, I'm an awesome wife, so I just smiled and didn't say a word. That's what the blog is for.

Saturday morning hit and the rush was on -- Ryan and her friend Chloe were having a joint birthday party at the mall, and I still hadn't put together the gift bags or wrapped either of the presents. I have no idea why now, but we had decided that 10-12 was a good time to have a party, so we needed to be out of the house by 9:30am. Did I mention that Shawn stayed out drinking until 3 am? Yeah, I don't know why I'm still under the mistaken impression that whenever he's home I'll have help. My life will be so much easier once I realize that he just increases my child:mom ratio to 3:1. Needless to say, we were late and I was stressed.

Oprah devotee that I am, I've really been changed by the whole "Secret" thing and Law of Attraction, intentions, etc, and so have been working really hard lately at sending out positive energy, trying to appreciate each moment for what it is and what it can teach me. Saturday morning showed me that my Yoga classes are even more valuable than I thought -- I was breathing like crazy trying to calm down and stay upbeat, when here comes Shawn with, "Why are you breathing like that? What's wrong with you? You are so weird." Like I said, 3:1.

The party actually was pretty great, and I'm so glad Chloe's mom suggested we do a combo thing, because I'm not sure I could have handled a party on my own this month. The kids had a blast, Shawn watched Jax (which was huge, seeing as how I was ready to let a stranger take him home -- he'd already jumped into the bubble bath that morning after having been dressed), I was finally able to have some "adult" time, chatting with the other moms, when I feel a tap on my shoulder.

"Amy Roberts!" There, smiling at me was my childhood arch nemesis -- the girl who lived across the street and tormented, nay, TORTURED me and my sisters when we were kids. Together with her brothers, they once stole my bike, tried to shove me down the storm drain, bombed our mailbox, and so much more... I'll never forget my mom suggesting I "kill her with kindness", leading to a month of me complimenting her at the bus stop every single morning like the little doormat I was.

"Hi!" I cheerily replied, and we began talking about her baby, my kids, her family, when lo and behold, I looked around and there they all were. All of them. Big Bad Scary neighbors and little 'ole Amy. Have I ever mentioned what a complete wimp I am? My heart was going 100mph, I started stumbling over my words, and all I could end up doing was complimenting every single one of them: "Great baby, nice clothes, cute wife, whatever -- just please don't hurt me!"

It was a sad, sad sight, and one I really wish my sisters could have seen, but not my mom -- Inflatable Wonderland is not exactly the best setting for a Julia Sugarbaker monologue. I love her, but I'm not sure the preschool crowd would understand...

Noon came and we hit the road, a motley crew of four, carrying coolers and presents, balloons and cake. When we finally made it to the house, it was naptime for everyone, since the kids and I had been up since 5:30, just two hours after Daddy got home.

The nap was great, and the kids and I were excited about having cake in the house, so we ate some more while we waited for Daddy to get up. Then we ate some more. and some more. And finally around 5pm, we had to stop because the cake was gone and Daddy still wasn't up. He finally stumbled down the stairs a little while later, asking what all the shouting was for (Jax had been busy, dropping the cake on the floor, popping Ryan's balloons, crying...). Again, 3:1.

Thankfully, Ryan's friends took her back to play at the mall, I got Jax off to bed early and I hit the sheets. Shawn and I hadn't really spoken since I told him he could get his own dinner, so by the time Ryan got back, I was more than happy to let her bunk with me. Big mistake.

It's spring in Austin, and allergies have hit, at least, I think it's allergies. You never know anymore. Anyway, she was up coughing all night long, and when I say all night long, I mean ALL NIGHT LONG. You know it's bad when finally, the nurturing mama in you takes her leave, and all you can do is put the kid in her own room to cough her lungs up so you can get an hour or two of sleep. Meds aren't working, btw -- any advice?

Sunday morning hit, and Shawn didn't have to work until 1:30, so I thought Ryan might want to stay home with him until I got back from teaching Sunday School. "No, I have to leave here at 11:15. I have an early meeting," was his reply. Silly mommy. Just because the schedule reads "1:30-close", I should know better than to assume that means he actually has to get there at that time. After all, on days when he opens, it reads, "5am-3pm", but everyone knows he doesn't get out of there until at least 5 pm. Like I said, I've just got to stop thinking I'll have help when he's home, or that he'll even be home at all...

I manage to get the kids dressed and in the car, I made pancakes for everyone, and we were even early, until I realized I'd dropped my keys under the car seat. Fed up with Shawn, my anger was getting the better of me as I dug around in the sticky nether-regions of the car floor, desperately groping for keys. Then Jax kicked me in the face and it was all over. The positivity had positively run out.

"I SWEAR TO GOD! WHY CAN'T WE EVER JUST HAVE A NORMAL MORNING? WHY IS EVERYTHING SO HARD? WHY CAN'T THINGS RUN SMOOTHLY? AND WHERE THE HELL ARE MY FREAKING KEYS???"

This is about the point when Shawn comes out, wondering why we haven't left yet. "I can't find my keys," I grumble. He then proceeds to ask me where I was when I last saw them.

"You know what?" I say, "this is not the time to start helping. Not when I'm now running late, the kids are crying, and I'm digging through stuck-on food and gum. Not the time Shawn!" At which point I saw my keys, grabbed them, and slammed the car door.

Wanna know his reply? "God, Amy. What's wrong with you? Chill out. I'm going back to bed."

Luckily the church is a ways away, so I had time to calm down, center myself and get ready to teach a room full of 3 yr old's all about God and love.

Class actually went really well, despite the fact that as I'm on the way to church, I get a voicemail from my co-teacher, my friend Angie, that she's sick and won't be able to be there. I am so grateful for that class - I really left feeling much better and renewed, which was needed since I was facing the rest of the day alone with the kids.

Naps were definitely on schedule, as was taking them to the gym so they could play and I could work out, except that when we woke up, Ry wasn't feeling well, so that plan was nixed. Instead, she wanted to play "Ariel". Do you have any idea how much work it takes to play "Ariel" with Ryan? First we have to gather all 11 of her Ariel dolls (please, people, no more Ariel dolls), then she has to tell me what to say, then I have to say it, then she has to say her part, then she has to undress the doll, then we have to sing a song, wash, rinse, repeat. It's exhausting.

But finally bedtime arrived and all went well. Until this morning when I discover that Jax barfed in his bed last night, and I have no idea why. He never woke me up, he has no fever and he's playing like nothing ever happened. I'd have already forgotten all about the puke if Ryan wasn't yelling, "Don't touch anything of mine, you are gross!" and"Get away from me Jaxson, you STINK!" Looks like it's bathtime.

Thanks for letting me vent, I feel much better.

Yeah, that about sums it up

Yesterday was long and horrible. I have a sore throat and earache, we were late late late for Ry's 2nd acting class, we forgot to get a folder for her, I didn't workout, and best of all, Jax took a big ole poo in the bathtub, throwing it at me at Ryan's insistence.

Where was Shawn during all of this? At an all-day meeting at Cool River, enjoying free lunch and dinner with adults. And he gets to do it all over again today. Some people.

My head is THIS CLOSE to exploding

Some people.