Archives 2006

January 8, 2006 - Already a New Year?  I should have known!  It felt like I was pullin' some Gs.  (As I get older,  time goes much faster.  I always mentally compared it to launching into hyperspace.) 

On New Year's Eve this year, the only people in the house to welcome the New Year awake were my three kids.   My husband and I went to bed.  The kids did give me a play by play update on the event(s) they watched on T.V. the next morning, mentioning how good Dick Clark looked but also that he was well preserved inside and out of the cold, and they thought that the Fox Channel's countdown was a bit out of sync.  "They were still counting and the ball was down!" was the report.  So as you can see, our New Year's Eve and New Years morning was a frenzy of excitement.

My youngest turned 13 this week.  The morning of his birthday as he came downstairs to start his day,  my daughter officially promoted him from "Puberty Boy" to "Teenage Boy."   He was actually impressed by that.  Seriously.  "Finally!" was his comment, as he made his way into the bathroom.  The official measuring took place.  (You know, where you mark the wall with the kid's heights on their birthdays and ours is on the inside frame of the bathroom door so you can never ever paint that spot because you must keep the official record of growth so it's the color of the paint that was there when we moved in still...)  My youngest is as tall as his big brother and sister now, if not taller.  He's taller than me! 

Yesterday my husband and daughter had to work and I didn't, so there was no reason for me to wake up early.   The boys had been up late playing video games and the like, so they wouldn't wake up early.  So, I slept.  I woke up long enough to feed the dogs, then laid back down "for a while."  For a while turned out to be 'til three in the afternoon!!  Holy Crap!  When I did get up, my youngest son was happily playing with new Star Wars Legos he had received for his birthday.  "Why didn't you wake me up?"  I fussed.  "I figured you needed your sleep!" was his response.  I know why the boys didn't wake me up.  If I am awake, they have chores to do.  If Mom is sleeping, no chores!  Sigh.  Clever of them, but chores still go on.  "Well, it was nice while it lasted!" he lamented.   I must say, I do feel rested for some reason.

On Friday, I wanted to come home and make a Chef Salad for dinner.  I typed to my daughter the instructions for making hard boiled eggs on instant messenger so the eggs would be done when I got home.  Mind you, I never said "make hard boiled eggs,"  I just typed out line by line instructions.  I felt the instructions were needed as I've not worked much with my daughter in the kitchen.  I typed something like, "put four eggs in a sauce pan...cover with cold water...put a lid on them and bring them to almost a boil...once they are almost at a boil, turn them off...let them sit for 20 minutes then put them in cold water...."

My daughter grabbed a fry pan, not a sauce pan, to do this.  (She didn't know the difference until Friday when I got home.)  They wouldn't fit in the fry pan with the lid unless she cracked them into the water, she said.  So, she boiled the eggs floating in the water.  Sigh.   When I got home I said, "What the hell is this?"  

"You told me to boil eggs!" she said. 

"I wanted hard boiled eggs!" I said. 

"You didn't SAY that!   If you had said you wanted hard boiled eggs, I would have known what you wanted!"  she countered. 

"I think you just did something similar to poached eggs..." 

(The dogs enjoyed them very much.)

I originally didn't have any New Year Resolutions, but I do now.  My daughter will learn to cook this year.  She will know sauce pans from fry pans and hard boiled eggs from de-shelled boiled eggs.  

January 13, 2006 - This morning my three kids are all sitting here in the living room, eating Cheerios and discussing religion, politics, people's names and their uses, lack of boxer shorts when you really need them, and other important things..  What a spectrum of discussion!  I throw in my two cents worth on occasion, but mainly I sit here and listen.  How a conversation can go from "burning in hell" to "voting for king and queen for homecoming" to   "right wing conservatives" to "characters you can scroll through and choose in the video game Starwars Battle Front" astounds me.  They talked too long and my daughter will be late for Jazz Band and my youngest son has four minutes to take a shower and make the bus.  Still, hearing their views was very interesting.  

I am hoping a phone call comes in today to announce that my husband has found a new full time job.  Sigh.   He's starting to panic and worry too much.  I hope something comes through today for his sake and sanity.  I have been lucky to be at the same place since 1979 basically.  I've changed jobs, but the environment has been the same.  I don't know what it's like to switch jobs and go to new places.  He's had to do that a lot since our one plant closed two plus years ago.  He had been with the same company for 25 years.  I imagine he's feeling the angst and fears of anyone trying to get a job out there nowadays.  It sucks.  (Sure, I sound all benevolent and understanding here in the diary, but I have spent much time wishing I could have had a year off on unemployment like he did, and I wish I could sit on my fat butt and not do  anything except breath while he worked all day and still came home to make dinner, etc.)  I hate to admit it, but I too can be a bitch.

The puppies were both perched on the back of the couch staring out the window facing the road last night at 11:30 p.m., barking their full heads off.  I stumbled out from bed to check out the reason why they were so upset.  I joined the couch line up, and saw someone walking down the road.  I petted them and said, "Good puppies!"  Sure, they woke me up, but they were barking at something that wasn't supposed to be there, so they were doing their job.  They are still stupid in most aspects - all puppy still - but sometimes they act like valiant watch dogs.  Jake goes in for snippy-snippy-nads-be-gone on the 24th.  Kia goes in for her spaying on Feb. 9th.   I will be glad when that happens.  Jake is VERY hormonal as of late.   Maybe this will take the wind out of his sails, so to speak.  (I hope not too much because I love his personality.  He is a gem.  Kia is more sensitive and closed in.  How do you bring a dog out of their 'shell'?) 

My daughter asked the other day if our family history/genetics has tendencies toward depression or mental instability.  "Hell yes!" I laughed.  (She is taking psychology in school and seems to enjoy that class very much.  The brain is a fascinating thing, to be sure.)  "I watch you kids like a hawk for signs of that stuff!" I told her.  "I'll be damned if you guys go through anything like I did!"  I told her all the issues I had as a youth and the panic attacks and the depression, etc.   She has seen the effects of depression/mental strife in other members of my family.   "Well, something to look forward to, I guess..." she said.   "You can prevent a lot of that, honey...don't wait to ask for help or ask questions or stew on issues for too long without asking for help!"   (Then I boosted her mood even more by telling her she also has a family history of breast cancer, colon cancer, heart disease, and high blood pressure.  "Gee, thanks!" she said.  "Anytime, my love - anytime!")

One of my daughter's male friends called the house a few weeks ago, and when he asked to talk to my daughter I said, "Hang on a minute, Hon - I'll call her..."   Later he told my daughter that "your Mom called me 'hon' but I don't know her..."  You know, I was almost shocked.  I mean, I call every one 'love' or 'dear' or 'hon' or 'idiot' or 'turd head' depending on the person/time/mood.  Never once have I considered how this might offend someone!!  Sigh.  My personality is LARGE and all consuming normally, and I will not change my ways in the near future I'm pretty sure about that - it just gave me something to ponder, dear.

January 20, 2006 - Tuesday my daughter had French verbal exams after school, so she did not bring home her little brother from middle school.   He was supposed to ride the bus home.  When my daughter got home,  she called me at work at about 3:10 p.m.  "Where is my brother?" she asked.   "He's not home?!!" I said in a concerned worried voice, as I was genuinely panicked.  "The puppies are still in their cage and he's not here!   There are not messages on the machine, either."  You could tell she was worried about him.  She loves her little brother.  She can love him at the same time she's tripping him or smacking him upside the head or causing him bodily harm in general.  They have a good relationship.  Naturally, when he wasn't where he was supposed to be, she was in a tizzy. 

"Call the middle school and have them page him.  If they can't find him, start calling the neighbors.   Start with Curtiss next door, work your way south!" I instructed her.  We hung up and I was beside myself.  One of my biggest fears (aside from dying) is not knowing where my babies are.  I kept trying to call the house.  The phone was always in use, but I kept trying.  It rang, for we have call waiting, but my daughter didn't flash over.  Finally I saw my message light flashing on my phone.  While I was panic dialing my house, my daughter was leaving me a voice mail!  It went something like this...

"Ok, so I called the middle school and when he wasn't there I called Curtiss' house, and low and behold my douche bag of a brother was over there.  He had forgotten his house key and was locked out.  He's on his way back now..."

I had to laugh.  I know she was worried.  I know she was frustrated.  Her verbal abuse and name calling indicated this.  I called her back and told her to have "the douche bag" call me when he got in the door.  When he called, I told him it was a GOOD thing he went to the neighbors, as this was always pounded into their brains when they were little, but I also hollered at him for not calling me at work or leaving a message for his sister on the home machine.  "I don't have your number at work and I didn't think about callin' home..." he drawled.  (He is 13 and talks like a cave man with clicks and grunts in a very deep voice now.)

When I got home, the minute I walked in the door, I made him get out his school planner and write down important numbers.  I thought that had been done at the beginning of the school year, but he assured me that was "last year, duh Mom!"   We wrote down all the vital phone numbers he may need.  I quizzed him on our home number and address.  "Mom, I'm not SIX!" he complained.  "If you can't think to call home and leave a message for someone that you are at the neighbors because you forgot your key, then you are six!" I countered. 

January 22, 2006 - Ahhhhhhh....early Sunday morning when all is quiet and I can just sit and relax.  (I used to hate Sundays when I was kid.   I hated them with a passion.  Oh, I didn't mind the big Sunday dinner after church or the massive amount of dishes there were to do after that dinner, it was because everyone would go to bed early on Sunday nights in my house because work was the next day or school.  I would lay awake on Sunday nights feeling quite alone in the world.)   Now I seem to always wake up early on Sunday so I get some 'Sandy' time - some quiet time.  I get a whole hour or so to sit on the toilet reading until my legs fall asleep, or typing here in the diary (no, I'm not doing this on the toilet), or just not doing anything specific in general for anyone but myself.  I can sip my coffee and lounge about like I own the joint mostly, unless I make too much noise. 

I have to be very quiet while doing this 'Sandy' time stuff on Sunday mornings, or the crowds begin to filter in.   First it's the cats who hear me.  Sunday morning is the perfect time for each cat to get in quality time with "Mom" and they take advantage of it.  Each cat has it's needs when it comes to attention.  Taffy likes his face pulled back while you are petting him.  He likes it rough.  Muffy insists on intense ear itching and belly rubs and will tell you when he's had enough attention by biting my hand in a loving way.  Stewie, who still thinks he's three inches long when he is, in reality, now the size of Pluto thinks he must be nestled in my neck while getting attention which leads to him drooling down my back.  Of course, after all the cats have had proper attention paid, they tend to play (play = beat each other senseless) which causes the dogs to come down because they are the World Police of all cat fights.   They must be present to protest the fur flying.  After they force the cats to find proper hiding places, they notice I'm awake and start the butt gyrating ritual of morning greetings.  After the greetings, they must be let out for morning toilet, and then they must be fed and then they are content with attention and a full stomach and play (play=beat each other senseless and run through the house like naked drugged hippies.)   That, in turns, leads to everyone waking up because the dogs have bounded over and on them several times during "play" and the puppies are not really built to 'bound' gracefully as they are over 60 lbs. each....

OK, now I am thinking these Sunday mornings are not as quiet and relaxing as I had presumed!  A girl can dream...

I just cleaned out a cabinet where I keep my garbage bags and potatoes and onions.  It was filthy!  I can't believe how places in a home can collect so much dirt!!  (I can't believe I didn't clean it for so long that it DID collect so much dirt!)  I live in a very small house.  Cleaning it should not be rocket science.  Sigh.  There are so many cobwebs in the laundry room I am sure they have their own zip code by now.  I suppose I will conquer that mess today as well.

I had to go into talk to my doctor about my yearly blood work.  My overall cholesterol reading was 193, but my tryiglyceride level was 243!!  That smacked me in the face hard!  Holy Crap!   "People with high tryiglyceride levels most likely eat out a lot..." she said.  "We don't eat out that much!  I can't afford it!" I whined defensively.  "Do you drink a lot of 'real' pop?" she asked.  "I drink water and ice tea and coffee.  I have a Pepsi once in a while..." I whimpered.  "Do you eat a lot of pizza?" she continued to drill me.   "We have pizza once a week, yes!" I confessed.  "Don't eat pizza once a week.  Try it just once a month!" she suggested.  My son had come along with me to the doctors because I had picked him up sick from school and squeezed a visit in with me to have him checked out.  My doctor gave my son a lecture, too, and he listened.  It was his birthday the day we went, and we were going to stop and pick up Little Caesers Pizza on the way home, but we decided we wouldn't after the doctor's visit.  Since then I have not made cookies, cakes, or pies.   I have not purchased these items, either.  I have not brought home junk food in any mass amounts.  (I buy pretzels and the like instead for 'treats' for the kids.)  For some reason, knowing my tryiglycerides level was so high really had an effect on me.  It made me think.  I have been eating healthy now for a week plus.  I have lost only three pounds, but I have not started any exercise program of any type.  I have just consumed more wisely.  If I continue this and don't exercise, I figured I could lose almost 70 lbs. in one year just by NOT eating like a pig.   Amazing.  However, there have been issues...

I had no idea what a compulsive eater I was.  I had been doing pretty well, eating healthy and cooking healthy and all, when one day one of the guys at worked offered me a cookie.  Just one cookie.  I declined his offer at first, but he said, "Life is short - Have a cookie!!"  So I had one cookie.  OH MY GOODNESS!  That one cookies was like heaven.  It almost made me cry.  Instantly, I wanted more and more.   If I had the box, they would have been gone.  It was then I realized how bad I was at controlling my need to eat.  I can't.  I mean, if it is in the house, I must eat it.  Last night, if there had been a cake in the house I would have consumed the whole thing by myself, as I was having a terrible craving for sweets.  I mentioned to my oldest son how good a Three Musketeer bar would taste.  "Yep, it would taste good!" he said, but didn't offer to go on a junk food run.  (Thank goodness!  I would have attacked him at the door when he got back and most likely eaten his forearm to get to the stuff in the bag.)  My friend Judy told me I had to have sweets or something I craved once in a while so I don't go insane.  "You don't need a lot, just enough to savor and enjoy.  Then you won't go nuts."   However, when I think of buying something to calm my needs, I worry that I would eat the whole damned bag of that something.  I would have to have someone lock it away.  It is nice to know this 'thing' within me, though.  Knowing yourself is a long process.  (We usually figure life out just about the time we bite the "Big One.")  I am still in awe of the fact that just by seeing my tryiglyceride level on paper that I felt the need to reverse that.  I have been heavy and out of shape for years, and it hasn't bothered 'who I am' in my mind.  I am still active and I can bend over and I have been happy with myself.  However, that readout of my blood work just shook me by the shoulders.  "Just because YOU are happy doesn't mean your innards are happy!" was the thought in my brain. 

I have always pictured the workings of my body in odd ways.  I have used this "picture" or scenario of the workings on my inner self to ease pain or panic for years.  I see my brain as a control center with lots of scientific types sitting at consoles watching the way things go and issuing orders.  Then there are others down below that are in charge of major organs, like commanders of their own sectors.  Then there are the workers or grunts that do all the hard work of keeping things working properly.  When I have severe pain or I am sick, I can imagine the process inside of me to isolate the pain and get rid of it, everyone inside doing their job to find and conquer the germs/pain/evil intruders.   It normally works, and is quite entertaining actually, but seldom does this "mental review" take place without me starting it first.  After seeing my bloodwork results, though, the "scientific types at the brain consoles" kicked in and took over.  I found that fascinating.  Obviously my 'self' knew I needed something before I did.  The human body rocks.

February 3, 2006 - When the President said that we American's were addicted to oil, not only did I think to myself, "Well, DUH!" - I also pictured that Robert Palmer's video for "Addicted to Love" but with President Bush in a suit in the front and a bunch of Arab males with guitars in the back.  I also had to modify the words for this mental video (my sincere apologies to Mr. Palmer - may he rest in peace) which follow:

Addicted To Oil
      (sung to the tune by Robert Palmer's "Addicted to LoveĻ)

      Your lights are on, but you're not home
      Yet your electric bill seems over blown
      Your heater runs at double time
      Another bill will break your spine

      You can't pay, you can't sleep
      There's so much debt, you're in deep
      Your car's on "E" and going slow
      Will it get to work?  Who's to know

      Whoa, we'd like to think that we're immune to the stuff, oh yeah
      It's closer to the truth to say we can't get enough
      We're gonna have to face it, we're addicted to oil

      Fossil fuel supplies are low
      We need to find new ways to "go"
      We need to walk, or buy a horse
      Fund research... find a new course

      Harness wind
      it can be done
      Or utilize
      juice from the sun
      We can't go on...that sucking sound's
      from draining oil out of the ground

      Whoa, we'd like to think that we're immune to the stuff, oh yeah
      Face up to the truth that carpoolings not enough
      We're gonna have to face it we're addicted to oil

February 4, 2006 - If China is threatening our manufacturing future, wouldn't they be 'addicted to oil' as well?  Why aren't their leader(s) getting up and telling them all that they are addicted to fossil fuel and need to find something else to power their world domination attempt, perhaps in the form of a very large hamster wheel powered by people?  Shouldn't they be concerned?  What about killer bees?   Could we not harness their wing/wind power instead of fearing them?  These and other questions loom in my mind today....

This whole last week I was wired for sound..  Hyper at work was I, and I got much done.  I also felt I could have done one USO show a night and painted the house.  That feeling finally passed on Friday night when I got home.  All the steam in my sails when pffffffttttt and the hyper was sucked from me like so much shake from a cup. 

Today I've done nothing so far except prepare homemade chicken noodle soup.  Since my husband is unemployed again, I have been letting him do the laundry.  It just breaks my heart, but how can I deprive him of something to do to occupy his mind?  He has signed up for classes to learn how to proper present yourself to an employer and do a proper resume.  (Which is all well and good if there were jobs around here to present yourself to!)  At least it will keep him off the streets and out of trouble.  You know how boys can get.

February 5, 2006 - Just two and a half hours to my east the frenzy of the Superbowl is taking place.  I am not a major football fan, so I am not too concerned about this.  I bet Detroit is feeling it, however.  I have attempted to drive downtown Detroit a total of one time in my life which makes me an expert, and I have no clue how those limousines are doing it.  There is barely enough room for normal cars, in my opinion, to navigate properly.  Props goes to the drivers who can get one of those things around a corner without taking out six people and a light post.

The puppies are fighting over a well chewed piece of rawhide bone.  They have two NEW rawhides laying on the floor, mind you, but it seems that the prechewed ooey gooshy one is the prize.  Go figure.  The puppies survived their 'fixing' and when we picked them up, you couldn't tell they had been sedated.  We took them yesterday to get their stitches out.   Kia was good and laid there.  Jake fought it all the way.  Jake is sixty pounds of puppy muscle.  It was quite fun.  My son was rapidly feeding treats to Jake as I held him up so the technician could remove the stitches.  Kia wanted to help, which means she was in the way so my son had to hold her with one hand and manage to pump in distracting treats to Jake with the other.  (The fine motor skills required to play video games finally paid off!)  Even after having their surgery, they didn't have an issue going into the vets office.  They dragged us in!  "There are TREATS in there, woman!" I could almost hear Jake saying.  I've had other pets that swore off going to the doctors after their 'fixing' procedures.  "You are NOT taking me in there again!"  they would bark/meow as they spread eagle, clawing the door frame.

Doesn't Iran act like a neglected child?  They are acting up and out lately to the chagrin of the world and they are pushing all of our buttons.  I think Iran needs to go to therapy with all of us to work out their issues.  I think Iran needs to be grounded for the weekend with   no T.V. and cell phone.  Plus Muslims are burning things down and protesting about a cartoon of their prophet that appeared in a Danish newspaper.   If we rioted every time God, Jesus, Buddha, Bush, or Rice were in a cartoon in the United States, we'd all be in jail.  They have no sense of humor, do they?  They need to lighten up a bit.  So it's OK to hold someone hostage and cut their head off in a video on the internet, but they can't let a stupid cartoon of Mohammed be?  I wish Gary Larson had not retired...he could have had a hay day with this issue.   Where are you, Gary?

February 7, 2006 - I was thinking yesterday how cool it used to be when I was a kid to walk outside after a good snow and be able to walk on top of the snow.  (Apparently I was small enough as a child be able to walk on the crusty top of the snow without breaking through like a ton of bricks.)  I remembered the feeling way back when...not quite like Jesus walking on water, but I am sure I felt rather stately and queenly doing this.  By remember stuff like this from way back when, I am grateful that I still have the power of imagination in me at my ripe old age of 45.  This aspect of me sometimes scares people, but I cannot help it.  My marvelous imagination should make the transition into mental dementia in my old age go much smoother, don't you think?  Today at work I cut out snow hearts from the crusty topped snow and propped them up on the picnic table, and then the letters "L  O  V  E" ... I thought it was adorable but most people think Valentine's Day is a commercial evil, and are not into the whole hearts thing.  I love the hearts.  I love the shapes and the colors.  I was decorating at work today, and my coworker Tadd refused to have me put hearts outside his door.  Party pooper.  Geez.  Men!  He's still getting a Valentine next week, like it or not!!

Thanks to Esther for catching my dating error!  I am happy I have not done the same thing on checks and the like, using 2005!! 

My son dropped his trombone and did a number on the slide.  The repair shop called today to let me know they couldn't fix it, but they could replace the whole slide.  Sigh.  Another 200 dollars out the window.  I gave my youngest a stern talking to, explaining that trombones were not disposable, etc.  "Yeah, Yeah!" he replied.  Reminds me of that one cartoon by Gary Larson;  the 'Blah Blah Ginger' Cartoon ...

What you say to your son, "Bad Bad Son, you dropped your trombone!  Do you think I'm made of money?  You have to be more careful!" 

What your son hears, "Blah blah SON, blah blah blah blah blah!  Blah blah blah blah blah?   Blah Blah!"

My daughter has been sick.  Snot, coughing, sick feeling.  Of course, this is a BUSY week, so being sick is getting in the way.  She has Pit Band practice for the musical.  She has work.  She has trombone lessons.  She has to practice with her piano accompanist for Solos.   She has the Brass and Drum group "Legends" to go to.  She was just in the kitchen practicing her Solo and Ensemble piece for this Saturday's District event.   She's wasn't having much luck, so she plopped down in the chair to say, "I SUCK!"  I swear she was near tears.  (I guess if I was stressed and sick, I would be near tears too.)  I gave her a stern pep talk nonetheless.  "Get back in there!  Start that piece at the beginning and play it all the way through.   Remember your dynamics!  If you screw up, stop and start over!  Keep doing it until you play it through without any mistakes!  You've been blowing on that thing for seven years now, I'll be damned if you give up now!"

What my daughter probably hears, "Blah blah blah blah YOU SUCK blah blah blah blah blah blah blah YOU SUCK blah blah blah blah!"

Sigh.  I just stood behind her and watched her play.  She did just fine.  Only two major spots she needs to really work on.  I yelled at her again for being upset over nothing.   She is a drama queen!  Geez.  "I have to get a #1 rating, Mom!   I just have to!" she said.  Of course it would be nice but if she doesn't, nobody gets their lips chopped off so she shouldn't worry so much!  I notice she plays better if someone is watching...I guess I'll go stare at her and pretend I know all there is to know about trombones.  (I do know that new slides are 200 bucks, so I have that going for me!)

February 11, 2006 - I came up with (what I thought was) a hilarious zinger at work the other day, about sitting three to a seat during seasonal load limits, and nobody 'got it.'  I was just stunned.  When I'm stunned, I take a surveys.  

(For those of you who also do not know what the heck I'm talking about;  all during my bus riding career during elementary and up, pre-spring and early spring were times of loathing the bus ride to school.  The Department of Transportation (or some group of evil adults with a piss poor sense of humor) would put up the evil "SEASONAL LOAD LIMITS IN EFFECT" signs everywhere, which meant we would soon be sitting three to a seat all bunched up to the front of the bus.  The front axle is a load bearing axle apparently, or all of the weight from the riders over one axle stopped the road from exploding as it thawed or something...I forget exactly what the reason was...but we all hated being crammed three to a seat because you knew you would always get stuck with at least one kid with a tuba, and you never knew just how many kids had tubas until SEASONAL LOAD LIMITS went into effect, and as as your legs fell asleep under the weight of said tuba on the way to school you would glance back periodically to the back with all those empty, open seats and dream...)

Anyway, I took a survey.   Tadd and Shawn never had to sit three to a seat during the spring time thawing and load limit season.  They are young, however, and maybe they had sturdier roads where they grew up or maybe they didn't ride a bus to school.  They had no idea what riding three to a seat was all about.  Doug, who is a hair older than I, and one I thought for sure would have had to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune on the bus as I had, also had no idea what I was talking about.  Sigh.  (It was at that moment I realized how much I depend on Dougie at work to back me up when I wax poetic or tell stories about the  'good old days' way back when to a group of young ones, so it was a reality wake up call when even he didn't know!)  I was desperate to have someone confirm my memory of this, so I called my old high school friend, Linda, who works as at the Transportation Office at the schools, and I begged her to agree with me even if I was suffering from some freakish mind degenerating disease that created false memories.  She said, "Yes, we used to do that!"  Then she explained why they don't do that anymore.  THANK YOU, LINDA!  I felt vindicated.  I stuck my tongue out at Doug and said, "Neener neener neeeeeeeeener!" and went back to work. 

February 14, 2006 - Happy Hearts and Hugs Day!  I love Valentines Day.  I love all the hearts and the colors and stuff.  Yes, it's over rated as a 'holiday' - but I think any excuse to tell someone how you feel is a good excuse. 

Oh my - I have been laughing and laughing at all the little comedy bits, songs, snippets that have poured into the media after the accident that Mr. Channey had hunting in Texas.  I am sorry for the lawyer he shot, but the humor that instantly exploded out of that incident is amazing!   It's as if people had stuff just WAITING for this exact moment!  My favorite so far..."Channey's Got a Gun."  (To the Aerosmith song Jamie's Got a Gun...)  Smile

Last Friday night my daughter and youngest son went shopping.  I got THREE new pairs of shoes!   THREE!  Wow!  I get shoes for myself maybe every five years.  I love my one pair so much I have hardly taken them off since I got them.  (However, went I walked into work yesterday morning, I forgot I had on new shoes and hit one of the shiny slippery tiles and wiped out.  I came in the front doors just talking away to Cindy, who mans the front desk.  One second I'm blabbing, then next second I'm still blabbing to her but sprawled out all over the floor.  I found it hilarious, but she is an HR person and was very concerned.  If I were Cindy, though, I would have been busting a gut as soon as I was out of earshot.)  Anyway - the kids and I had a marvelous time shopping.  I love being with my kids.  By the time we finished it was almost nine-o-clock, and my daughter was SO TIRED she could barely move.  When we wheeled the cart to the car, my youngest son said to his sister, "You get in the car and sit down, I'll take care of this."  AWWWWWWWWWW.  How sweet!  He knew his sister was pooped out and he was being all manly and stuff!  AWWWWWWW.   I thought about this on the way home and started crying, because I was so overwhelmed with the fact I have really cool kids and I am basically a lucky woman.

My daughter received a '2' at the Solo and Ensemble event on Saturday.  As she said, she 'biffed' the first part, but recovered and did really well on the final part of her solo.  The judge was verbally kind so it took out any sting from the rating.  My oldest and youngest son came with us, so after the festival we all went to dinner at Ci Ci's Pizza.  We had a fun fun afternoon.  My daughter looked so different after the event was over.   Prior to that she looked like death warmed over.  After we ate lunch, she looked like a comatose angel in the front seat.  "I am so glad it's over!" she sighed.  As Forest Gump once said, "One less thing..."

February 26, 2006 - So the other day I'm in the ladies bathroom finishing up what I went in to do when I stepped on my skirt which had yet to be hoisted into position.  The skirt I was wearing has a silky feel, so it is no doubt made from a form of durable synthetic material that they coat the outside of the Shuttle with.   Me stepping on my skirt put that leg and skirt into motion at an amazing rate of speed.  My brain immediately stated, "Oh No You Aren't! You are NOT going to do the splits!"  I informed my brain that I had no intention on doing the splits, although at the moment it seemed immanent as I clutched at the toilet paper dispenser.  My brain continued to be a big help.  "Pull UP, Pull UP!   You can't DO the splits!  You haven't safely done the splits since the late '70s!!  Do you realize what this will do to your muscles on the inside of your thigh?   Do you really want a co-worker to find you writhing on the floor in pain with your undies and skirt snapped from you like a rubber band?" my brain raved.  It all seemed to be happening in slow motion, but I'm sure it was just a second or two for all of this to take place.  Fortunately the total separation of my leg from my hip was stopped by the base of the toilet.  Once my foot got wedged on the toilet, I was able to get a hold of my skirt and yank it up enough to give my foot traction.  It was close, though...too close. 

My son goes today to a pool party for one of his friend's 13th Birthday.  This is a good thing, as he needs to do more stuff with friends.  He relies too much on being entertained by his big brother and his big sister.  His sister will be off to college next fall, plus she is already too deep into her activities to be around for him.  Eventually Big Brother will move out and my youngest will be an 'only child.'  It will be hard on him to deal with the 'only child' aspect.  He's always been included in sibling events, play, and/or lives in general.  I dread the day he's solo in the house.  Sigh.   We'll have volunteer to house a foreign student just so he has someone around.   I pity the puppies the most, as they will be drowned in attention when he's bored, and that will be often.  I can see it now..."Lady, get this kid off of me, PLEASE!" 

There have been no birds at my bird feeders this winter.  The winter has been so mild, they apparently don't NEED me.  Sigh.  I still have the bag of bird food I bought 12 weeks ago!   Normally I go through a bag a week.  This is sad.  The moles have been active under the bird feeder up front, stealing bird food I shake out.  The ground is seldom frozen and is riddled with mole holes.  The moles should be good and HUGE come spring.  Moles the size of large barn cats.  (Watch for the story in the Enquirer.)  The tree out front was full of red winged black birds when I came home from work on Friday.  There have been sightings of Sandhill cranes around as well.   It just doesn't seem RIGHT.  (Insert the music from the Twilight Zone here...)

February 27, 2006 - I spent yesterday cleaning my children's bedrooms.   Holy Crap.  Apparently all those times I told them to go clean their rooms I was really saying, "See how many juice boxes/pop bottles you can shove under your bed until it raises another two inches" and "make sure the dust builds up so thick on your TVs and desks that you will be able to leave me a detailed message in the event you run out of sticky notes."  I went through a roll of paper towels and half a bottle of Windex up there!!  I also clogged the poor vacuum's filter system with all the debris.  It was not pleasant.  I was filthy from head to toe.   I made my youngest cart bag after bag of JUNK to the garbage.  Poor Herby Curby is not packed full and overflowing.  Sigh.  My daughter's room was not as bad as my sons, thank goodness.  All houses should come equipped with a high powered air hose at each level of the house to help put a dent into messes such as these.

My youngest son has his first detention to serve tomorrow.  He got caught in band kicking one of his female band mates.  When asked why he kicked his female band mate, he reply was, "She kicked me in the balls two days ago."  Either the pain took two days to reach his brain, or he was finally goaded into retaliation from other band mates.  We tried to explain to him that kicking anyone unless it was in self defense is NOT RIGHT.   "It was in self defense!" he said, as he covered his lower regions with his hands.  "Doing it two days later is NOT self defense!" I said.  We discussed this on and off over the weekend to make sure he understood about 'choices' - oh sure, some seem GOOD at the time, but he really needs to think these things through. 

March 6, 2006 - I have had these dreams since 1980 when I quit an almost fully paid with scholarships, etc. college career to come home and be with my husband.  (In retrospect, that was a stupid thing to do.)  The dreams involve me being lost on campus, or late constantly for class...or unable to go to class because I didn't have my homework done...or not having enough money to buy the stuff I need for the project that is due.

Some dreams I spend the entire dream trying to get to class but unable to find the correct building.  Some dreams I have so much homework/projects due that I don't dare go to class because I have no excuses for my piss poor performance.  Some dreams I just don't feel like going to class, then feel guilty after class starts and try to go, but the professor won't let me in.

Last night it was a dream riddled with all the above.  Lately the dreams come more often, and I know it's because my daughter is getting ready to launch her college career this fall.  I also know the dreams come from my intense feeling of failure over the whole college deal.   I failed miserably.  I didn't even try back then.  I gave up.  I was scared being so far from home so I didn't even try.  I was so shocked at being a little fish in a big pond as opposed to being a big fish in a little pond back home that I just threw my hands up and stopped.  I DIDN'T EVEN TRY.  This has always bothered me A LOT.  This has always been an issue in my head.  It comes out in dreams.  I think back now (hind sight is 20/20, aye?) that I had a whole support network at college, but I didn't use it.  I had a ton of local friends that went to the same college and I could have tapped into them for support, but I ran away instead.   I could have gone for some form of counseling, but I ran away instead. 

I don't know what to do to stop the dreams from coming.  I suppose I could go back to night school and get a degree now?  Maybe that would stop the dreams?  We all fail now and then.   I just have to buck up to the fact I was not ready for a big college campus back in 1979.  I should have tapped into my friends or I should have started out more local like at a city college and worked my way up. 

I know the last 27 years I've conquered other major issues without quitting.  I rock as a Mom.  I have learned many skills and stayed with the same company for years.  There are things I didn't give up on.  I can forgive myself for running like a scared little girl from college so many years ago, you think?  It's not like I can go back in time and fix things.  (Plus there is the whole 'Butterfly Effect' that would have to be dealt with if I could go back in time...)  I need to get over this.  The college dream has haunted me more than the dream about forgetting my underwear in kindergarten and finding this fact out while sliding down the big slide while wear a dress, or the dream about forgetting my locker combination after Christmas break.  (Wait, that wasn't a dream...)

I was also dreaming about my 'blub blub' last night.  It was my first material possession that I can remember.  A clear plastic hour glass shaped toy from my babyhood, I'm sure.  It was full of clear liquid and bright balls of plastic that would make a blub blub sound when you flipped it over.  I played with that thing for years.  I used it as a telephone as I got older.  It was used to time explosions for scenes from my whole Barbie saga.  I would stare into one end of it and pretend I was in space.  I loved that thing.  I wonder what happened to the blub blub?  It was made out of plastic that was PLASTIC TO THE MAX back then.  It was probably infused with lead and has a higher half life than plutonium.  I had always thought the memory of seeing my Mother cry when Kennedy was shot was my first intact memory from childhood, but now I am pretty sure it was of my blub blub. 

March 13, 2006 - I watched two specials on storm chasers last night before I went to bed.  They were interesting, and there were great shots of the cloud formations around tornadoes.  Around midnight, it started thundering and lightening.   I rolled over in bed to watch out the window and laughed.  "I should watch a show on how to win the lottery next..." I thought to myself.

My daughter is still packing in life to the max this last semester of High School.  She is Carpe Diem'ing like crazy.  Good for her as long as she can survive it.  I remind her to drink water because she forgets.  I remind her to take vitamins because she forgets.   I remind her to eat.  Actually, I don't see her much at all and the only thing a Mother can do to make herself feel better is to give little bits of lame advice in passing.  As mothers, we feel we have to give them something.  The beginning of the separation phase of the child/parent relationship is always hard.  They are about to fly the coop and you can only think to say random lame stuff like, "Take your vitamins!" when you really mean to say, "Don't get into a car with a stranger and don't believe everything everyone tells you and don't get in debt with credit cards and don't forget your friends and don't forget your family and remember to lock your doors and remember to keep your checkbook balanced and don't forget to floss everyday and write 'thank you' notes and call home from time to time and remember most of all above all else, I LOVE YOU!"  Sigh.  I lived through the separation of my oldest son, barely, back in 1999.  I will survive this, too. (My oldest son has moved back in, so they really never leave, do they?)

Speaking of losing things...our family veterinarian will be moving on come May 1st.  Dr. Robinson was a wonderful vet.  He has seen all of our pets over the last 19 years.  He has been a comfort when we lost a pet.  I will miss him a lot.  When we first got the letter yesterday explaining that he was moving on, I was mad.  Then I was mad at myself, because I thought, "I cannot handle change!"  A personal revelation I was not pleased with.  I don't roll with the changes well.  I am an old fart.   Facing reality sucks.  You kids, Get off my lawn!!

March 17, 2006 - My daughter found out today she's in the top ten of her class.  I cried.  I was so proud of her.  I called my best friend in Florida to tell her right away.  I called Vickie upstairs to tell her.  I ran down to tell Deb.  I ran up and down the hallways at work telling anyone who would listen, all while crying and hyperventilating. 

She didn't think it was a big deal.  It didn't register with her that it was something to be all geeked about.  She thought it was nice the principal called her to his office to tell her and all.  She said she had hoped she'd kept her rank this year, grade wise.  She was happy that they noticed her, but she still didn't think it was a big whoop. 

"It's a big deal!" I literally cried.  "I can't tell you how proud I am of you!..."  I told her (or tried to tell her...it came out more like, "I ... sob weep ... cannot begin... gasp drool ... to tell you ... sniff sniff ... how ... cough snot ... proud ... I ...huff huff huff...am....of you! ... hyperventilate and gasp for air..."  Wow.  My little girl done good!  All of my kids are just wonderful humans.  I can't believe these creatures fell out of ME.  They astound me everyday.  They make me laugh so hard I pee myself. (OK, everything nowadays makes me pee myself, but still...) They make me cry with joy.  They make me worry and fret.  They, well - they make me.   Thank you, children of mine, for helping me be a better person myself.  You guys rock, but you eat too much and never flush.  Smile.

I am crying now, just thinking how wonderful it is.  She should be proud of herself.  That took many years of hard work on her part to keep her grades up.  Not everything came easy to her.  Some did, but she did do her share of all nighters learning stuff.  I cry even harder when I think of her last 18 years on earth.  When she was born, she HATED me.  She was her Daddy's girl.  My husband worked second shift and I worked first shift.  She bonded with Daddy.  Daddy read her stories and gave her cookies and was there for her all morning.  He would drop her off at the sitters on the way to work, and I would pick her up on the way home.  She would begin crying so loud my ears would bleed from the time I picked her up until she went to bed.  People stopped calling me at home.  If they did call, they would scream loud enough over the phone so I could hear them, "How's the bitch?"  (That was my pet name for her.  I was beside myself trying to deal with her.  We were water and oil for the first several years of her life.)  Sigh.  My most vivid memory of those days was one night, after months of this screaming, I had collapsed onto the floor with her in my arms.  She was of course, screaming, and I was sobbing from frustration.   Daddy walked through the door at 11:30 p.m. and she instantly started goo'ing and gushing like a perfect baby (except for the swollen eyes and face from SCREAMING for eight hours) and she reached for her father and instantly fell asleep on his shoulder.   Daddy never could figure out why I was a nervous wreck from spending time with my young daughter.  "She's an angel for ME!" he would say. 

You know, I can't even remember when things started to turn around for us.  She just became who she is and I who I am and things just worked out.  She became this person who smiles a huge smile and lights up rooms.  She became this person with a marvelous sense of humor.   She became a peacemaker during problems here at home.  She became a cheerleader for the little things in life.  She was ALIVE and she was suddenly ... this wonderful human. 

You know, for years my Mother used to call me "Her Sunshine" when I was growing up.  I never understood what she felt for me or how intensely she must have loved me until now, for I feel the same way for my daughter.  She is the Sunshine of my Life. 

March 26, 2006 - We all have those moments in life where you think to yourself, "If I died now, I would die happy..."

I had one of those moments on Wednesday.  My youngest son and husband and I were coming home from the grocery store and we decided to pop in and surprise my daughter at work (and since we were going to be there anyway, get some chocolate shakes) so we took a different way than normal to get to her McDonalds.  We passed a local lake, but I wasn't paying much attention.  My son practically screamed, "Look!"  The lake was very still and a perfect mirror reflection of the trees on the shore plus the moon, clouds, and stars that were in the sky at the time.  "It's perfect!" he gushed.   "Just like a mirror, Mom!"  It was beautiful to behold.  It was a view that you see in photographs and sigh about.  I would have missed it completely had it not been for my son.  It was then that I thought to myself, "I could die now and I would die content.  My youngest son can 'see' and appreciate little things.   He doesn't have blinders on.  He sees those little things from time to time that make this whole journey through life worth travelling.  I have done my job well."

However, if I was going to die now or soon I would hope it would be at the wheel of my car and I hope as I lost control of my car that I would plow through one of those groups that protest at the funeral of fallen soldiers.  (You know, the group that takes freedom of speech to a whole new disgustingly disrespectful level.)  If I killed a few of those protesters in that crowd, I guess it was because they had impure thoughts or something, right?  They probably wanted to be homosexuals or something?  DUH.

God is NOT going to kill off soldiers of any race or color or belief just because there is homosexuality in the country they are from.  God is not a stupid human.  I am sure there are times He regrets making us stupid humans, however, especially when they do stupid stuff like protest at a funerals in "His" name.  I wonder how one of those people would feel if half the city of New York turned out to protest at the funeral of one of their loved ones.  The protestors would have signs and sing.  The protestors would accuse, "Your (loved one) died because God struck your (loved one) down because of His hate for people who do not put the toilet seat down!"  That would make as much sense as what they are doing, that's for sure.  Sigh.  God can just stand back and watch us eliminate ourselves or destroy ourselves;  He has no need to pick off innocent people to prove a point.  Those poor protestors need to direct their energy to make the world a better place, like pick up garbage alongside the highway or help old people instead of travelling the country making asses of themselves. 

April 3, 2006 - And now, I will sing to you all!  Prepared to be amazed at my vocal talents! 

Though April showers may come your way, They bring the flowers that bloom in May. So if it's raining, have no regrets, Because it isn't raining rain, you know, (It's raining violets,) And where you see clouds upon the hills, You soon will see crowds of daffodils, So keep on looking for a blue bird, And list'ning for his song, Whenever April showers come along. And where you see clouds upon the hills, You soon will see crowds of daffodils, So keep on looking for a blue bird, And list'ning for his song, Whenever April showers come along.

I love that old song.  Sometimes, the old songs are the best songs to express how one is feeling.   I am feeling so much better now, stress wise, now that my husband has found a job.   Finally.  Did you all hear that noise last Thursday?  It was the sighing of relief from my couch!  "Thank Goodness!" my couch said.  Smile.   The end of the couch where my husband has been strategically placed  the last few months has sunken at least two inches below the rest of the couch so the joy the couch expressed when the job offer phone call came in was a thing of beauty to behold. 

The kids are on Spring Break this week.  My youngest has a huge project (that was due last week) for school to do this week.  His spring break will be spent researching Sri Lanka.   My daughter is working almost everyday.  Her spring break will be spent slinging french fries.  I begged them not to do such exciting things on their spring break, as they will no doubt get addicted to thrill seeking if they continue at this pace, but there is only so much a mother can do.

April 4, 2006 - My son had a month to do this Sri Lanka report at school, you know.  I state this to make myself feel justified in feeling so frustrated with him.  He's a very smart kid and has potential the size of Texas on steroids, but HE DOESN'T TRY.  "He's just 13" I must remind myself.   He's just a kid who likes video games and procrastinating.  No big whoop.   I should let him fail this project to teach him a lesson when I explode upon contact with a future report card, but I can't this time as he is a partner with someone else.  So, I press forward.  At least this time he's not flailing on the floor like frying bacon in a tizzy fit because I'm making him research things.  He is actually working and trying.  "Why fight it?" he said tonight.   "I need your help, so I will just do it!"  I believe I fainted for a few minutes and possibly even had a stroke from hearing those words come out of his mouth.  

I spent several hours last night surfing the net reading about Sri Lanka.  (One perk about having a procrastinating wee teenage male with homework issues is I tend to have to read about many current events and foreign countries to keep ahead of him so I know when he's lying or skewing the truth too much.)  When he graduates, I'll never know who is President or I'll never hear of any current events and I'll end up embarrassing myself at a party by saying, "What do you mean there were riots in France in 2006?"   After reading about Sri Lanka and all of it's issues, I thought, "As mad as I get over stupid people in this country at times, it's still THIS COUNTRY and not Sri Lanka.  We are luckier than we could ever imagine."  Sigh. 

Speaking of learning, at work today I learned about 'BSE free' product certification.  (The BSE I am talking about stands for Bovine Spongiform Encephalopathy, but after an hour of on line research I found it can also stand for the Bombay or Boston or Barbados Stock Exchange, Bachelor of Science in Engineering, Breast Self Examination, British Society of Echocardiography, Breeding Soundness Evaluation, Bachelor of Software Engineering, Belvedere String Ensemble, Bilateral Symmetrical Encephalomalacia..the list goes on and on.)   Did you know some companies what you to send certification that you are not sending them Mad Cow Disease in a box?  They want you to PROMISE on paper!  So I am thinking that we should come up with a cert that states at the bottom in small letters that "the the paper you are now holding in your hands barely even touched the ooze from the brain of Bailey, our kooky cow;  Oh, the hours we laughed at his antics, but we digress - as it turns out Bailey wasn't so kooky, more sickly really...but honestly, we didn't know..."

April 11, 2006 - This weekend the whole family went grocery shopping with me.  Well, that was the intent, to go grocery shopping.  Instead my husband took us to Olive Garden for an 'end of spring break' dinner for the kids.  We had fun there, but ate way too much so as the car sparked it's way down the road from the excess weight, we decided waddling around the grocery store, although probably the best thing for us right about then, was not what any of us wanted to do.  We just pulled into a gas station and I forced my oldest son to go in and get two gallons of milk for us as that was the only absolute necessity we needed to survive for another day at home.  When he came out, he flung the two gallons on my youngest son's lap to hold.  As we were pulling out, my youngest son said, "Murphmelph gugsh bungsabut yawtub yad..." in his drawling deep manly voice.  We all burst out laughing, as none of us could understand one word he had said.  "Quiet!! Quiet!!  I think he's trying to communicate with us!" I sputtered as I laughed.  We laughed for quite a ways down the road at the poor boy.  He at times speaks so deep and drawn out it sounds as if someone is sawing down a tree underwater.  Once I was able to breath again, I asked him what in fact he was trying to say.  "I was trying to joke and sing 'my milk jugs bring all the boys to the yard' but it didn't come out right!" We all burst out laughing again as that in itself was funny with the two gallons of milk and all...Sigh.  I love my kids. They are a riot. 

Spring has finally sprung, me thinks.  It smells like SPRING outside.  It was nearly 71 degrees today!!  The grass is green (at least the parts of the lawn where the moles have not constructed super mole highways) and there are violets and daffodils and the trees are budding and the peepers are peeping and, oh my stars, it's grand.  Sigh.  I even saw a moth of sorts, although it looked like it had gone through a paper shredder, it was still airborne.  There are flies everywhere and the stupid mosquitoes are already out in droves.  I am ready for spring.  There is a herd of turkeys across the road in the corn field that are apparently in mating mode, as the males spend all their time puffed up intimidating each other while the females just lie around eating bon bons and doing their nails.  I love to watch wild turkeys.  The humor me.  They move like a school of fish;  If one moves, they all move.  They run like Groucho Marx all bent over.  Cable should have an 'all turkey' channel just to amuse me. (I'm a cheap date. You could give me a cardboard box and I'd be happy for hours on end.)

For those of you sitting on the edge of your seats wondering if Garble Boy got his Sri Lanka project done, the answer is yes.  Barely.  It was like giving birth all over again, in my opinion.  Cripes.  His project buddy came over on Saturday to work on it with him.  I left that at the computer and went to take a nap.  I had a wonderful dream that they had finished it all and and had it printed out and had typed up the bibliography and everything.  (Key words in last sentence  - HAD A DREAM.)  When I got up they had approximately three paragraphs done on the main article after a whole hour or so.  Deep slow loud sigh.  Needless to say how Saturday was spent at my house.   There is also no need to mention that two 13 year old boys got several lectures on responsibility and school work and life in general. "Oh, man...there she goes again!" my son would mutter when I would launch into one of my speeches.  "Do your school work on time, and you won't get lectures!" I said in that cocky way mother's say things.  "Yeah, that's right!  I'm the MOM - and I know ALL!  Don't pay any attention to that lady behind the bathroom door sobbing because it took you three hours to write six paragraphs when you had 80 pages of vital data sitting in front of you just bursting with information!  What ever you do, DON'T READ anything that might aid you in the effort to complete your homework!  Now bring me the broom of the Wicked Witch of the West!   I command it, I'm the Great and Powerful MOM!"

I have been pondering what things I would take to a deserted island.  Not that one has much choice on what items they can take along to a deserted island since being on a deserted island in normally forced on one as opposed to being a scheduled event, but it never hurts to ponder.  I would take the Bible, a note pad and a pen, Vics Vapor Rub, and a case of salsa for starters.   Oh, and an ax to whack coconuts with...a must!  (Fresh water probably wouldn't hurt either, but we'll assume there is a magical fresh water spring running down from the mountains on the island.)  I would take a drum set and teach myself to play drums.   It would be nice to have a telescope too, so I could view stars when the urge hit me.  That's about all I would take, now that I've pondered it.  (OK, maybe a dictionary too, because to be honest, I had to look up how to spell 'deserted' because I'm never sure is it's 'desserted' or 'deserted', and it turns out 'desserted' would mean someone dumped ice cream on your head if in fact there was such a word as 'desserted' which there isn't...)

April 12, 2006 - There have been phrases I've heard over the past 45 years that just humor me to no end.  I may forget where I parked today, but I will never forget these little blurbs. "Never count your chickens before they rip your lips off..."  That gem came from my friend Grace in High School as she was reading to us from a book about third graders and what they had written in response to having the task to finish classic sayings. "Sometimes I guess there just aren't enough rocks" from the Forest Gump movie.  Today, my friend Doug was telling me a story from the days when he and his wife raised/bred Siberian Huskies.  The phrase "...if she was a lazy whelper" came up.  I never heard the rest of Doug's story, for that little blurb stuck in my mind and over took it.  "Lazy Whelper?"  Man, that works on so many levels!!  It's my new favorite.   It almost sounds like Irish slang, doesn't it!?  "You Lazy Whelper!"   Ah, sometimes language, misused, is a marvelous thing. 

On the way to work today, I was watching some lady swerve around the road as she attempted to navigate her car whilst talking on a cell phone.  I, being perfect and all, felt the need to chastise her in my mind.  "Stupid woman drivin like and idiot talkin on her cell phone gonna kill someone damned kids anyway..."  A few minutes later, there is a sharp pinch on the inside of my upper thigh (or in other words, near my crotch) then the unmistakable feel of a live bug moving around up under my skirt.  Now who is swerving around the road like an idiot with one hand up her skirt?  (Which brings me to another one of my favorite phrases, this one from "A Wish for Wings That Worked" by Berkley Breathed, "Don't Get Cocky!"  The bug was a gentle reminder that I shouldn't be so judgmental, even if it's only mentally to myself, and even if the other person is a lazy whelper...) 

April 25, 2005 - Today is the second official day of my two week vacation, and what a vacation it's been!

I had over two weeks left of vacation time to 'use it or lose it' before May 11th.  I chose to use it.  Since the kids were in school and all and the husband on third shift and sleeping all day, I figured I was in for two weeks of quiet "Sandy" time during the day in which to do whatever my heart desired!  (You know, go nuts!  Clean, do lawn work, clean more, do laundry, more lawn work, see how many times a day the guys over shoot and pee all over the toilet - just plain old vacation madness to the extreme!)

I had a doctor's appointment scheduled for yesterday morning to start my vacation off right.  I know I have a sinus infection and have had one for two weeks or so but have put off going to the doctors until VACATION.  My main reason for going to docs, however, was to see what was up with my eyes again, or still, since they puff up and drip water constantly and scratch and itch like a *$(%^!!.  The eyes being that way only add to my already troll like appearance, and frankly Scarlet, I don't like it.  (Turns out it's allergies.  I asked, "Why at 45 do I get allergies?"  The doc said, "You live in Michigan, it's an acquired allergy.  The pollen is going nuts early this year."   Man, for all of you who have suffered a life time of allergies, I have to give you a round of applause.  You have to deal with them and continue on in a normal fashion and I don't see how you do it!  IT SUCKS.  There is a good article about allergies in this month's National Geographic, by the way...)

So, yesterday I wake up at four a.m. and cannot sleep any longer.  I return emails and catch up on local news and read the obituaries.  I'm thinking to myself the whole while, "This will be a good day!   I can fart around 'til the doctors appointment, and then come home and nap."   At 6 a.m. my youngest son comes down the stairs as if drunk and reports, "I am lightheaded..." as he falls into one of the chairs.  I feel his forehead.   He's got a fever!!  I call the doctors at 8 a.m., and ask if they can piggy back my son in with my appointment.  They said they would work him in.   ("Work him in" is a medically coded term that means you will wait for over an hour to see the doctor.)  We both get prescriptions.  His throat is bad and he's got the start of bronchitis.  We get the prescriptions filled and come home and we both take a long nap.  I get up, make chicken and rice for dinner and do some laundry.  My son doesn't want a real dinner, he wants soup, and of course I have no canned soup in stock that he likes.  A trip to the grocery store solves that issue, plus gives me a chance to get stocked up on Lysol spray to begin the decontamination process.  While my son ate his soup, I changed his bedding and cleaned his room and hosed it down with Lysol and brought in a priest to exorcise any demons left after the spraying.  I sighed and hoped for the best.

The decontamination process was obviously started too late in the game as this morning my son comes down stairs, falls into the nearest chair and still has a fever.  My daughter was M.I.A. and finally at six thirty I hollered up at her to come down.  She came down and fell onto the couch.   SHE had a fever!  (She had been up in the night to vomit, she informed me.   It was kind of her to let me sleep through it.)  So, I called the doctors at 8 a.m. and asked them to squeeze my daughter in with me (as I had a second appointment scheduled for today to get refills on some maintenance medicine.  My doctor won't refill any prescriptions during a normal visit UNLESS it's related to the condition you are being seen for.  She claims it has something to do with insurance...)  I will wake her out of her fevered sleep to haul her in to the doctors in about a half an hour and take a bag in case she pukes, as we will be waiting for over an hour I'm sure...

So, that is my vacation so far.  I am sure the extreme excitement will only get better as the week goes on so stay tuned and buckle up!

LATER IN THE EVENING...

My son's fever has not broken, and is now up to 102 degrees.  My daughter's fever is steady at 101.  They are both camped out in the living room.  Sandy's Infirmary.  My daughter is working on a bowl of soup, slowly.  Not much has stayed down today for her.  I force my son to drink water or 7-UP every five minutes.  "I think I'm losing the battle, Mom..." he muttered.  He has not left the couch all day.  I wish the antibiotics would kick in soon.  I hope his fever breaks tonight.  I hope my daughter's fever breaks tonight.  I hope I don't get their fever, because who would take care of me?  (My husband works third shift now and I am grateful he is working but he doesn't do much else but work and sleep.  He'd be a lousy nurse, although he is fun to poke with a stick while he's sleeping.)  I have gotten over my pity party for having to be nurse while on vacation...now I just want the kids to get better, screw the vacation mode.  I don't need no stinking vacation!  I need healthy kids.   Sigh. 

April 26, 2005 - I woke up at 6:58 a.m.  I slept in!!  I slept in!!  It is a vacation!!  Smile.  As I stumbled out of bed all disorientated and the like I was stepping on little landmines of cold wetness on the floor.  After turning on a light and waking up, I see that they are just bags of catnip I got for the kitties that were sniffed out by the puppies over night and chewed beyond recognition then left in strategically placed wet piles all over the living room.   (Humane Shelter volunteers make these bags of premo catnip - home grown catnip - and sell them at local veterinarian offices to help support the Humane Society.  They are the best at getting your kitty cats nuts.  Can't beat home grown catnip when you have an urge to get your cat all hopped up on goof weed and laugh at them mercilessly.)   As I was picking the slimy things up I was singing "St. James Infirmary" to myself and remembering the one Saturday Night Live show years and years ago where Lily Tomlin sang that song with the Howard Shore band and the band members wore nurses hats and ... but, I digress.

The kids are still feverish and very sick.  I called into school for both of them.  My daughter is sad because she will miss the Rotary Breakfast that honors the top 10 percent of kids in the graduating class.  She can't go and puke all over everything, now can she?.  It wouldn't be right.  Still, I feel bad for her.  Nothing like being felled like a tree the last few weeks of your High School career.  She did, however, NOT get sick until after prom on Saturday and she looked adorable.  (I'm the Mom, so of course I think she's adorable - but really, she was adorable.)  I sent a message to her prom date last night as I was worried he'd be sick by now too, but he seems to be OK. 

April 27, 2005 - My daughter went to school this a.m.  "I only have four weeks left of High School - I'm going!" she stated.  Youngest son is a bit perkier today and his snot is on the move.  His temp is hanging on around 100.  It's good when snot is on the move.  He must have had one heck of a head and chest full.  He goes through cloth hankies like they were Kleenex.  He did eat this a.m. (but he couldn't taste it, and mentioned this fact every other bite) and so far his meds have stayed down.  When he was hurling up yesterday morning, I told him the story about how people used to make the person (with pneumonia or the like) vomit, so it would help expel the phlegm from the lungs.  He didn't seem to appreciate this fact as I was telling him all of this vital history while holding his head for him above the waste basket he was puking in to.  I also reminded him to visualize his white blood cells battling the evil bacteria in his body.  "You might have lost a battle or two, but the war isn't over!" I said with gusto.  "I already am doing that, you don't have to tell me to visualize, duh!" he snotted back at me.   When I called him in sick to school, I requested that his sister bring home any homework they could gather for him as it looks as if he's going to be couch bound a few more days. 

I went and got my hair done this afternoon, a trim and a color and a nice long long session of Terri my hair person playing with it.  Sigh.  I love having my hair played with.  It's so relaxing.   It took forever, however, to finally relax.  I was stressed a bit, I think.   I was in a blobby melted heap of contentment by the time she was done, though!  

I believe my son had a severe relapse after seeing the homework package his sister brought home.  "My head hurts MORE!" he lamented.  "Yeah, honey - real life sucks sometimes!" I said, in a supportive motherly type way.  "We can't say 'suck' in school, you know..." he said and drifted off to sleep.

I have wanted to mow all week.   The grass is growing at an alarming rate.  My husband said, "Don't use the riding lawn mower yet, I have to lube it."  OK, I said to myself, I will use the push mower on the spots where the neighbor's cats and dogs were last seen..."   You know, when you work third shift as my husband does (and mind you I'm very thankful he's working) you have to sleep when you are not working or eating.  I figured the riding mower won't get lubed unless I find the manual and figure out how to lube it myself.  I pushed mowed slowly as the height of the grass in spots, especially over the septic tank area, was lush and rain forest like.  As I fought the grass, the push mower's handle came off in my hands.  Let me tell you, that defeats the whole purpose of push mowing when there is no longer a method available to push!   I dragged the beast back and did my best to shove it up to the shed in disgust, as if it would know I personally blamed IT for all of my troubles in life.  I came in the house and started taking stuff out of the freezer in the bedroom.  "What you doin?  Grunt Mumble..." my semi sleeping husband said.  "I'm defrosting this freezer as the handle broke on the push mower, so I thought I would do this instead.  I am gonna have fun on my vacation if it kills me!"  I was hoping he'd get the gist of the sarcasm, but he woke up just long enough to belt out, "GREAT!  I will have to buy a new push mower this weekend..."  GOD FORBID!!  Smile.

April 30, 2006 - My kids are finally feeling better.  Young son still is coughing up huge amounts of unwanted goo, but he feels better - you can tell as he's acting like a teen again.  I forced him to work on homework on Saturday.   (I knew he felt better due to the way he opposed me at every turn.)  In a way, I think I kind of like badgering kids to do homework even though I complain about it to no end.  I learn so much in the process.  This weekend I learned about ancient China.  I honestly don't remember learning about ancient China in school.  It is very possible I did - but the retention is not there.  Some of the stuff sounded familiar, once I read it.  If I had been held at gunpoint prior to this weekend with the ultimatum of "Give me ancient China history or die..." I would have been dead.  At least now I would have a fighting chance.

Husband got me a new push mower on Friday.  (I will consider this a Mother's Day Present.)  I was able to finish the push mowing as husband lubed and tuned up the riding lawn mower.   I got to do the major mowing, as well.  I felt happy.  That was on my list of "fun things I wanna do on vacation."  He announced he was getting new blades for the riding lawn mover that day (which he ended up not doing) so I took it upon myself to use the mower as my own personal death machine to battle large branches and above ground areas of large mole holes.  It was extremely dry and with me sitting on top of huge mole piles for several minutes to level them would only spew dust throughout the neighborhood (and all over cars and houses, as well.)  I was covered with so much dirt when I was done it made mud puddles in my shower.  I also mulched many large branches that had the audacity to lay in my mowing path.  I had a riot to be honest.   I am normally opposed to death and destruction, but somehow on a John Deere, it's OK.

I learned how to use the new tread mill we got.  I love it.  It has a T.V. on it and a fan!   Woot.  I don't have to worry about turning my weak girly ankles in mole holes or pot holes!!  The puppies are not so sure about the tread mill.  To them it is an intruder in THEIR house and they have made it their personal mission to "save" me from the thing.  They attempted several times to try to bite the belt while it was in motion.  They both have very sore noses today.  I believe the puppies will just stick to saving me from the vacuum instead.

May 1, 2006 - It has been raining since yesterday and we needed it so much!  I am glad I got the mowing done.  With the rain, I will most likely have to mow again by Wednesday or so, but that gives me an excuse to run over large objects again, so hey - it's all good. 

Both of the younger kidlettes are going to school today.  I will have the day to myself!  HURRAY.   I plan on going nuts and go to the pet store and getting little suction cup thingys to use on the tubing in Wadsworth's fish tank when I replace the bubbling stone and also look for one of the 'mitts' that you put on and pet your animals with and the hair magically comes off onto the magical mitt and you are free from flying hair for ever.   (The only way to be free from flying hair forever, as we all know, it to have no pets and for the whole family to go spontaneously bald.) 

Yesterday I purchased plates, napkins, plastic cutlery, and plastic table cloth stuff for my daughters graduation party.  I also bought red and white little bowls to place on the picnic tables with the intention to put nuts and butter mints in them as is tradition as we old folks all know.  When my daughter saw the little bowls, she said, "Can we please just have M&Ms in those things - and not those terrible blobs of pastel mints mixed with peanuts?"  I smiled.  I will have M&Ms in half and icky mints/peanut combos in the other half.  It's all about compromise.  I bought streamers to use for decoration as well, and will want to start putting together her life story to display.  I will design her graduation party invitations this week.  I need to go to the park pavilion I rented, too!  I don't even know the set up there, and that would be a good thing to know.  There is a plethora of things I can do to entertain myself with on this, my second week of vacation. 

For now, I am off to order red and white M&Ms from their website that contain no gross mints nor peanuts.   May the force be with us all.

May 2, 2006 - I ordered the M&Ms with my daughter's name on them!  I love it!  How cool is that?  I wish they had been around to do that when my oldest son graduated.  My youngest son was quite geeked by the fact you can have personalized M&Ms and was already planning what his M&Ms would say for his graduation.  (You are very limited in lettering - so he had better come up with something compact!)

Yesterday was a marvelous vacation day!  I put my 'Essential Manilow' CDs in the car, and drove around doing errands with "American Bandstand" and "Jump Shout Boogie" cranked up loudly.  (Did you know you can still go deaf listening to Barry Manilow at decibel levels so high your ears bleed?  You can!  What?)  I would sing to the cars next to me at stop lights.  When the whomp whomp of a rap song rang loudly next to me, I would 'Barry Blast' them back.  It was so fun. 

I went over and cleaned for my Aunt Jean yesterday, too.  That was fun in itself.  I love to be with my Uncle and Aunt and hear stories.  I miss having my own Mom and Dad to talk to - so my Aunt Jean and Uncle Lorin are my 'adoptive' parents.  I didn't' clean that much, but it seemed to make Aunt Jean happy, and that was cool.  I did their living room and bathroom.  It's amazing what one little thing you do can make someone so happy.   We should all do more little acts of random kindness.  (I get that bumper sticker now!) 

On the way home from AJs, I went to Pets Plus.  I got the puppies a new giant sized rope toy and got stuff for Wadsworth the fish.  I also bought two of those pet mitts that you use to remove hair.  If you watch the T.V. commercials, you would think using one of these fur removal mitts would pull the hair off your pet in one fell swoop, creating a mitt shaped compact woven bundle of hair that you can peel off and toss into the garbage.  NOT TRUE!!  It gets the hair off, mind you, but not in one lump that is easy to pull off the mitt compactly.  Nonetheless, the dogs loved it.  Jake kept pushing Kia out of the way to get more brushing.  A little advice...don't use these things inside the house, and if you do, make sure the ceiling fan is OFF first.  (Of course, I used mine inside the house with the ceiling fan on so I know what I'm talking about here.)  The dogs are short hairs but the amount of hair that became airborne was phenomenal!  The cats lined up for brushings since they love to be brushed, but Jake made it clear by laying on top of Muffy and forcefully holding down Taffy that it was ALL HIM this time around.  It took me an hour to suck up all the hair with the vacuum afterwards.  Duh.

All in all, it was a good good day.  Today I will take a vacation nap, then go to the post office, and when the kids get home from school, we're off to buy socks.  HOLD ME BACK! :)

(Flashback memory - It just dawned on my that my Dad would call my 'rock' music "whomp whomp" music back in the '70s!  Hahaha.  I remember many times he would yell at me to "TURN DOWN THE G*$ DA%&#! WHOMP WHOMP MUSIC!!"  The music he yelled at me for was England Dan and John Ford Coley, Seals and Croft, Kenny Loggins, and Barry Manilow!!  Hahaha.  It makes me laugh.  I am glad I had my handy eight track tape player in the car when I got into my Led Zeppelin phase...that would have really freaked him out!)   

LATER THAT EVENING...

Socks have been procured.  My daughter even got two more bras and two handbags.  (She is like me, we don't like to 'shop' and do girl things and we wait until the last possible moment to buy something we needed a year ago.)  It was a successful trip to the store.   I have been waiting for my daughter to tell me it was time for her to get socks.   She was down to wearing two pairs of black 'band' socks for a while now.  Her supply of socks was in critical mode, but I swore to myself I would say anything to her.   "She's 18 - she has to learn when it's time to get new socks!" I kept telling myself every time I did laundry or saw the puppies eat another pair she had left under her bed for six weeks. Finally, this morning was the morning she announced she needed socks.  "Oh, and I need a purse - my purse is shot, too..."   There is hope after all!!

I also got the stuff to make homemade salsa, and while the kids were doing their homework I happily chopped up all that stuff.  My eyelids are still burning from the jalapeņo peppers.  I wore rubber gloves when I cut the stuff up to avoid just this issue, but I took them off before doing dishes and forgot that the juice on the cutting board when I washed it that got into my skin was enough to burn me hours later while I was rubbing my eyes.  Now I'm worried, because when I got done with the dishes I changed Wadsworth's bubble stone and filter in his tank!  If he's dead tomorrow, it will be due directly to too much jalapeņo juice in his personal space.  Sigh.

May 7, 2006 - 'Tis the end of my whirlwind vacation.  The vacation started off with sick kids.  The vacation ends with Mother Nature blessing me with the PMS.  (Pathetically Morbid Sandy.) (Pitiful Martyred Sandy.)  I was hit with a huge bout of it on Friday and Saturday.

*Author's note - the following will be PMS inspired complaining.  It is just that - a temporary sinking into depression that all females suffer from at times but I am just putting in print.   By no means does this mean that I no longer feel I'm a lucky woman or blessed in my life!  By no means does it mean I plan on going out and committing a murder or felony of any kind that you could prove in a court of law.  This will just be me being bitchy and spewing forth babble and should be taken as such.*

So Friday, I slept in and the kids got themselves off to school.  That was nice.  My husband came home from work and volunteered to start the riding lawn mower part of the lawn mowing while I did the push mowing part.  I had planned on mowing Friday, but not so soon.  I was in the middle of writing out a list of stuff I needed from the store.  First on the list was industrial strength Pamprin.  After I finished the list, I left it on my desk and started the push mowing.  My husband has feet issues and ass issues so he can't ride the lawn mower for long without his butt exploding nor push the push mower for long without his feet falling off.  Actually, I don't mind doing the lawn as it gets me away from the house and out in the sun and I can pretend all I want while I'm on the lawn mower, so no big deal.  When I got done with the push mowing and took over the riding lawn mowing, my husband announced he was going into town for something.   "Good!"  I said, "Get me the stuff on the list on my desk while you are in town!"  "What's on the list?" he whined like a baby boy.   "Well, for one thing, PAMPRIN..." I emphasized loudly.  He continued to stutter like a comet just hit him square upside the head so I threw the lawn mower in gear barely missing his feet and said, "Oh, never mind DEAR, I will get that stuff by making a special trip into town just to get that stuff that you could get when you went in to town but you won't..." 

I thought to myself that if I were a man and my wife asked me to get Pamprin, I would probably come home with a 55 gallon drum of the stuff.  But that's me...

I drove off as fast as you can on an old John Deere mower and mowed.  I pondered his behavior in a 'Fried Green Tomatoes" kind of way and then I pondered all the years I had done special stuff for the family in general and been a happy outgoing 'Mom' and always made sure the family had stuff on holidays and Christmas and Birthdays and you name it...every day special treats, thoughtful things, notes in backpacks, little things to say 'I love you' sort of things - I do this stuff!   I bring JOY and HAPPINESS into their lives as much as I can!  I try.  I make efforts.  I am a good person.  They should bow to me in honor!  "Cripes, they treat me like SHIT!" I screamed out loud.  If something gets left on the floor, it stays on the floor for ever unless I pick it up.  If people over shoot whilst peeing, the pee stays there until Mom does her daily toilet cleaning.  No one in this family plans dinner besides me and if it's given to my husband to do, he cops out and buys fast good on 'his night' to cook.   "The dogs get more attention and respect than I do!" I proclaimed.   I felt very misused and taken for granted.  I listed all the specific times I felt taken for granted in the last 26 years.  I lost count eventually as I took out my anger on the mole holes again.  Luckily no live animals crossed my path or they would have been shredded.  To stay out of the house longer I even mowed the back half of my neighbor's lawn.  After mowing like a mad woman, I did feel better.   However, when I did come into a house that should have been picked up by the kids by then (they were home from school) and stuff was not as I thought they should be, I stiffened and went nuts.  They had done some chores but no one dusted and my son had done a piss poor job at sweeping the living room and the stuff that had been on the floor for a week was still there. 

I threw all that stuff away.  I swept the living room again and dusted.  I was quiet and brooding.   I don't believe in 'giving people guilt trips' or playing mind games with people but had I spoken I would have regretted the words that came out so it was best if I was just quiet.  "I think your Mom is upset with you kids..." my husband said to my daughter and son as he plopped on the couch like Jabba the Hut.  I looked at him and shook my head.  He just doesn't get it.  He just doesn't get it...

I am much better today.   There were no untimely deaths in the family due to my condition, and I planted some flowers and washed some windows.  It may be all in my head this PMS stuff, but it's THERE nonetheless and sometimes the dark side of the force gets to me.  My head spins completely around and pea soup shoots out of my mouth.  I feel possessed by forces other than my own brain.  It's not always like this, the anger and irritation, but when it does happen, it HAPPENS.  Sigh.  I love being a girl.  I pity the women who are possessed like this every month and taken over by aliens as I was Friday and Saturday. 

Now, I am off to clean some more but today it's because I want to clean, not because I feel like "everyone is stupid except me" so I have to clean.  (That is a good feeling.)

Evening Hours...

I just lost one of my larger fillings while eating fat free potato chips.  (It is a filling that the dentist said he wouldn't attempt to fill again - and next time it fell out I had to have a root canal and cap.)  Sigh.  It was the best ending to my vacation that I could have hoped for.  I couldn't find the filling...I expect that will come out in a day or so...

May 8, 2006 - Not that it matters, but the filling that came out last night WAS NOT the evil one that the dentist threatened a root canal for!  I was happy last night as my tongue probed the space up there.  It's the last molar in line, a totally different tooth that is mostly filling with a tiny bit of enamel!    Odd as it may seem, this pleased me to no end and I went to sleep like a baby!  Smile.  Oh sure, I'll have to either have it filled and have a panic attack or have a root canal and have a panic attack, but it's not THE tooth I thought.  One must Carpe Diem as much as one can, fillings included. 

I had a small filling done last week while on vacation.  I survived it, only because they didn't have to use one of the sleeves they use to pack and set up the filling.  They used stuff that is cured by heat.  I barely made it through that small filling.  The dentist and assistant are angels, knowing my issue with dental work.  I do fine until the novocaine takes effect and I feel like I can't swallow anymore or lose control over when I can shut my mouth and flex my jaw.  My daughter made a big fuss when I came home from the dentist and they got home from school.  (I have backed out of fillings before and cancelled the appointments, so the kids know I'm a chicken.)  "Did you do it?" she asked, with her head cocked to one side in a motherly fashion.  "I did it, and no one lost a finger!" I proclaimed with pride.  "Good Mommy!   Good Mommy!" she praised me over and over.  I will have to go in to the dentist this week to find out what he will do or not do concerning this latest gaping hole.  I will have to be heavily sedated no matter who does what to it, this is a now known fact.  Sigh. 

May 11, 2006 - Yesterday I had to go up to Grand Rapids for a meeting, and on the way back I stopped at a McDonalds for lunch.  There were beautiful spring flowers and pine trees lining the way to the ordering area at the drive through.  I was admiring an odd looking pine tree while the truck in front of me ordered.  I noticed a puff of smoke from one of the branches and thought, "Huh?"  Then it happened again.  I was cursing the truck in front of me for tossing a cigarette butt in a poor innocent tree when I saw another puff of smoke from higher up...then another puff from over there then another puff from down there...The trees was smoking all over!!  I expected at any moment it would be engulfed in flames and a deep rumbling voice would be asking if I had "seen Moses" because He "had a message for him..." 

Then it dawned on me - a flash of acquired knowledge from some long ignored brain cell finally reached daylight - the tree was puffing some sort of spore or pollen!!  I laughed out loud.  In the span of a few seconds I had cursed out an innocent victim in my head, expected to see God at any moment, laughed at myself after my epiphany, then apologized profusely in my head to the innocent victim.  That is what makes life so cool - the times your brain scoots around a whole spectrum of thoughts and knowledge in a matter of moments and you end up laughing and learning, plus no one gets hurt. 

I was up until midnight last night printing off invitations to my daughter's graduation party, folding them, and stamping the envelopes.  There was that hour break to watch the season finale of 'Criminal Minds' on CBS because I love that show but I detest cliff hangers and I knew it was going to be 'continued' of course but I watched it nonetheless.  But I digress... The only thing left to do now for her graduation party is order food products and then survive the day.  Anytime one of your 'babies' is reaching a milestone like this it sucks the life out of you as a Mom.  (But then I think to myself, "Only one more to go and I'm free and clear!!") ((Then I think again that a parent is never 'free and clear' so why am I feeling like this because eventually they come back and stuff.))   At my son's graduation party in 1999, my first child to graduate, I was in a coma!   I didn't come out of the coma until Grace showed up.  My friend Grace gave me my baby shower for my oldest in 1980.  Once I saw Grace, I was able to come back to reality and go on again for some reason.  I guess I had a link - a 'full circle' link from birth to graduation that helped clear my head. 

Now, I am off to conquer the world and enjoy the tree puffing moments as they come...one puff at a time.

May 13, 2006 - Happy Mother's Day to all you Mothers out there, bearers of the futures keepers of this planet.  So far this Mother's Day weekend I've done nothing but sleep in and eat strawberry jam toast as I sip my coffee.  I don't plan on doing much more than that this weekend, to be honest.  My daughter is at work and my sons are still sleeping as is my husband.  It's my weekend, as it were.   Someone should be catering to my every whim, but since we all know that won't happen I will just bask in the quiet of the house now while I can. 

-----------------------------

In bed last night I was trying to remember all I could about my own Mom.  Normally I have bad dreams about her, as she had dementia and wasn't "my Mom" before she died.  She passed away in September 9, 1998 at a nursing home where she was recovering from a broken hip, apparently from a blood clot that dislodged.  She got the broken hip while at the nursing home, falling between two beds.  She was living in the nursing home because of her dementia or mental state.  I started this diary a few months after her death as a way to cope and write and vent and record things.  My Mom held things in and was a first class martyr.   I vowed I would not be like that.  I personally think that much of her mental state came from holding things in for decades.  Even if what she had was Alzheimer's disease and if it was Alzheimer's her father had and it will be Alzheimer's I may get someday, I don't want to go over the edge with everything bottled up inside, for it would be my luck that the one brain cell that held all the pent up anger and resentment would be the one my brain locks on to in my declining years. 

My mother was raised during the depression.  She saw hard times.  She lost her real mother to strep throat or the like when she was very young.  Grandpa remarried.  She was the oldest kid in the herd at home when she was young, so I imagine she had her hands full.   My Mom had a hard row to hoe.  She met my Dad while working for him as a housekeeper in the early forties because his first wife had died and he had three kids that needed taken care of.  They got married in 1942.  In a story that's too long and complicated for this page, my Dad gave up his kids for adoption.  That haunted my Mom for years and years.  I think she really loved those kids... 

My sister was born in 1952, my brother was born in 1958, and I came along in 1960.  Right after I popped out, my Mom started menopause.  The main memories I have of my Mom in the first five years of my life was of her sobbing.  She most likely could have benefited from some estrogen treatment, but did they do that in the early sixties?  Sigh.  I remember one time when I spilled my milk at the table, she fell to floor crying.   Then there was the one time the power company came to turn off our power for lack of payment, and she torn the poor man a new one and I was sobbing.  The time I got tar on my new shoes, she sobbed.  She cried a LOT.

I looked to my sister for moral support during those times.  She would baby-sit my brother and I when Mom and Dad worked.  She made lunch fun - took our orders like a restaurant and had WYYY playing on the radio.  She would take us swimming at her boyfriends house.  My sister would try to get my brother and I to sing harmony on the song "Windy" while riding in the car. 

As I got older, Mom stabilized a bit more.  Mom made sure we went to Church.  It was Mom I ran to during the Christmas show at Church went I messed up my lines and went crying down the isle.  Mom made wonderful Sunday meals.  Mom often cooked for relatives who would visit on the weekends.  Mom made sure not everything was negative in the house.   (My Dad was a very negative person.)  Mom would listen to me talk for hours on end about nothing in particular.  Mom encouraged my artistic side.  Mom called me her 'sunshine' and laughed at me when I was being funny.  Mom hit me only once in my life, and that was when I said the "F" word when I was 17, so I deserved the smacking.  Mom didn't interfere with me when I was older and decided to move in with my friend Vickie the last year or so of High School.  She just let me go.  I never once looked back to wonder if this was tearing her apart.  I just told her I had to be with Vickie because Vickie was alone (her Mom had moved to Florida) and Vickie was not going to be alone and I kind of just lead two lives with Vickie and home.

My Mom never got a driver's license.  She was dependant on everyone for transportation.  I think I remember my sister trying to teach her once, and I think I remember my Dad trying to teach her.  She would panic.  She couldn't do it.  I know panic, so I can sympathize with her now, but it must have been hard for her not to be able to escape when she needed to.  I remember the times when she was the most upset, she would grab her walking cane and go for a long walk.  On occasion I would tag along, and she would tell me what plants were what.  (I don't remember anything about the plants now, just the sassafras bush and poison ivy.) 

I miss my Mom.  I still pick up the phone to call her, even after all these years.  I miss telling her about the exploits of my children at night on the phone after a very long day.  I wish I could tell her how upset I was that she always felt of herself as the 'blacksheep' of her family.  She always put herself down.  She never took credit where credit was due.  She took humility to a whole new skewed level.  My Mom was a good person, she should have allowed herself that much personal honor.  My Mom loved pansies and butterflys.  When my Mom would sneeze (which she did with an intense force) us kids used to pretend she was knocking us over.  When we would get her laughing, she would bounce head to toe with laughter and the laughing would increase when we started laughing at her laughing.  I miss my Mom.

I miss my Aunt Vera, too.  Aunt Vera died on September 1, 1994 from an apparent heart attack.  Aunt Vera was my Dad's sister.  I met her when I was 12 and my Mom had left my Dad for a week, so Dad was alone with my brother and I and decided to go to his brother's family reunion.  My Dad was not social and didn't interact with his family much.  Going to meet these people was a big step for him.  I spent most of the time with Vera that day in her bee hive hair do.  I bonded quickly with her.  She said I could come spend time with her up north during summer vacation.  I did.  That started a beautiful relationship.  She was independent and outspoken.  I needed that kind of example in my life.  She took me places and showed me things I had never seen.   I openly talked to her about subjects I couldn't approach with my Mom.  Vera had a hard life too.  She told me stories.  I looked forward to spring breaks and Christmas vacations and summer vacations with her until I graduated.  After that I would talk to her almost every Sunday on the phone.  She came down to see me when my children were born.  I know for a fact there was no other time in my life I cried as hard as I did the night the phone call came in that she had died, except for the time the phone call came in that my Mom had died.  Both times it felt like the air in the room had vanished and I couldn't breathe.  Sigh.  I miss my "Moms" and I hope they knew how much I loved them.  I am a better Mom because of them. 

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Well, so much for not doing anything today.  I decided I was going to clean the carpet.  The dogs had stains all over it from drooling and from what else I'm sure I don't want to know.   It looks much better now.  I also cleaned the bathroom and did some laundry.   My husband took us out to dinner with his Mom and sister and brother in law.   We had a nice time.  I am full and I didn't have to do dishes nor cook.   Win Win. 

May 19,2006 - My daughter has just left for Jazz Band 15 minutes late.  She's a senior this year, and there are only 5 more school days left for her.   Leaving the house at all with any commitment to school at this point is very hard for her.  I remember that feeling...

My Mother's Day was very pleasant last Sunday.  I told the kids earlier in the week that I wanted a new vacuum cleaner for Mother's Day.  "One that sucks big time!  Bagless, too!" I commanded.  Mind you, I have drilled into their heads the fact that you don't get a woman/mate general appliances or kitchen crap for major holidays - that it is not acceptable to get her a set of pots and pans when she really wanted new fuzzy slippers or a cute nightgown and when a mother or wife says she doesn't need anything or want anything, get her something frivolous anyway.  The kids were kind enough to repeat what I had taught them back to me, "...but we can't get you something for the kitchen or a major appliance because..."  That in itself made me laugh.  "Yes, I've stated many time NOT to get a present for a woman/mother/girlfriend that would involve doing housework immediately after opening it," I laughed, "but Mom WANTS a new kick butt vacuum cleaner this year.  I really really want one.   The fact I don't need one really as we have one that sort of  makes this a frivolous gift!  Do you see now?"  They agreed, in a confused sort of way.  "The vacuum cleaner has to come from your father, however. You must relay this wish of mine to him.  I expect gifts from you guys that represent the fact you know what I like and have noticed something out there that would bring joy to my heart because I am your Mom and the mere fact I'm your mother makes you want to bring it to me."

Mother's Day morning, the dogs woke me up.  They got up on to the bed and actually stood on me, and stared at me.  When the staring routine didn't work, they proceeded to whine and lick.   They had already cut off my air supply with their huge bulk, so I woke up to see what the issue was.  Kia lead me out to the living room where there was a large box covered with an afghan.  She 'pointed' toward it, looking back at me as if to say, "There was something new in the living room and I am showing you this fact for your own safety."  I knew by the size it was my new vacuum.  This made me extremely happy.  I seriously wanted a new one.  I love the bagless ones, and after I sweep I take the cup of dirt and force everyone to look at it.  "Look how dirty our house is!  Can you believe it?  And that was from the second time around sweeping!" 

I left the box untouched until my husband got up (just to torment the dogs) then I ripped into my new vacuum box.  He put it together for me