Monday, August 31, 2009

Confessional Vol. V

I'm beginning to panic about all I have to get done before we leave Saturday. Why do I always wait until the last minute to do things?

I am also beginning to feel anxious about the plane ride. I hate to fly. Hate it with every fiber of my being. I almost always start crying after the take off. You know that part right after the plane leaves the ground and it starts adjusting its speed and altitude? I hate that part. You can feel it falling a little beneath you... I seriously want to start hyperventilating right now just thinking about it.

In our old house we had a white refrigerator that was covered in Mickey Mouse magnets, snap shots of our family and the kids' artwork. When we moved, I put everything in a ziplog bag to keep it all together, knowing we couldn't use it on the new refrigerator because it is stainless steel. I was thinking I would get one of those magnetic boards to hang on the wall or something, but that way we would still have all the things that used to make me smile everyday in the new kitchen. As you can imagine, the bag got packed with other stuff and I never really thought about it much after the move. Until Saturday when I found it in a box in the office. I can't believe how much our kids have changed since we moved in to this house three years ago. Of course I cried looking at the pictures and all the little projects they made in preschool and early elementary. I miss my babies being little. Where does the time go?

I need to get organized. When we get back from the trip, I am going to concentrate on decluttering this house and simplifying our lives. I have already started here and there and it feels so good. I am tired of feeling weighed down and overwhelmed. Big changes are coming this way and I am excited!

And on a TMI note (any men reading, please stop now), I am so excited my "friend" came early this month! According to my schedule, it should have come two days before we leave. Awesome. And seriously, why do we call it our friend? It is so not our friend. Definitely more of an enemy. I mean what kind of a friend comes to visit, stays a whole week, forces you to eat chocolate, makes you crabby and ruins all your underwear? That is no friend of mine, thankyouverymuch.

Wow. I'm feeling a little unsure about that whole paragraph above. Ah, what the hell. This is me. Here I am world. Peace out.

Friday, August 28, 2009


Unidentified Grown Woman I Know: I'm thinking about getting that book about Hitler.
Me: Which book about Hitler?
She: I don't know. I was watching a documentary about him and they kept talking about a book.
Me: Was it the one he wrote?
She: He wrote a book?
Me: Uh-huh. A pretty well known one.
She: Really? I didn't know he was an author. I just thought he was president of Germany.
Me: Ummmm, welllllll.... He was the supreme ruler of Germany. A dictator.
She: Whatever. I just know he was, like, the most famous German ever.
Me (staring): Uuuuummmm.... Wow. There are so many things wrong with that sentence but let's start with this: He wasn't German.
She: Of course he was.
Me: Nope. He was from Austria.
She: But in all those films he's speaking German.
Me (taking a deep breath): That's because German is also the language of . . . Austria.
She: It is? I thought they spoke Swiss.
Me: (blink, blink)
She: No?
Me: That's not even a language.
She: Then what do they speak in Switzerland?
Me (sighing): Mostly French.
She: Really?
Me: Yup.
She: Wow. I had no idea.
Me: Well, you learn something new every day.
She: Yes. You really do.

Monday, August 24, 2009

Confessional Vol. IV

It seems like I am always confessing about crying while watching a movie or TV show, so I will tell you that this week I cried during Whale Wars and Project Runway. I'm a sap.

I am so so so happy Project Runway is back. I wish there was a Project Runway channel. All Project Runway, all the time, 24/7. I want to be Heidi Klum and I wish Tim Gunn was my Fairy Godmother.

I have a few FB friends I would like to delete. But I know as soon as they realize I have deleted them, it's a whole new can of worms. I'm also a coward. Or maybe I just don't have the energy for a fight.

Yesterday while I was folding laundry, I watched an entire episode of Kourtney and Khloe Take Miami. God help me.

I've been feeling really overwhelmed lately. It's my own fault, because I am so unorganized. When I think of everything that I have to do to actually get organized, I feel helpless. Even the thought of making a list of what needs to be done is overwhelming because I know how big that list is going to be.

On a more positive note, I did spend about 2 hours in my closet last night and it's not perfect but at least I can actually walk into it without stepping on anything. So yay me!

Friday, August 21, 2009

Drop This

Dearest Drop Off Duty Teacher:

I realize the mornings are a hectic time. You have a class to prepare for, yet you are required to pace the drop off area to make sure all the little ankle biters are making it from car to classroom in a timely manner. Plus it's 110 degrees out side at 8:30 freaking AM. I get it. It's hot and you're stressed out and tired. I have so been there, babe.

But.... That is no reason to come marching down the sidewalk pointing at my car and screaming about where the drop off point is. It's not like I let the kids out to run in traffic. It's not like I haven't been dropping them off in this same exact spot for the last FOUR YEARS. It's not like there's a flashing sign in the front of the school that says "Hey dumbass, we changed the drop off procedures!"

I didn't know. Okay? I didn't receive a written or verbal notification that from now on we are only allowed to let the children out of the car when we are directly in front of the gate. I DIDN'T KNOW. And obviously the four carloads of children behind my were driven by parents who didn't know either. I never thought in a million years, for the sake of practicality, you would adopt a new procedure that would allow only one car at a time to unload, thus increasing the amount of time it takes me to drop off my children in the morning to FORTY GODFORSAKEN MINUTES.

Raising your voice? Unnecessary.

Pointing and flailing your "what the hell" hands at me? Uncalled for.

Telling my children to tell their mother she is not following proper drop off procedures? Unprofessional.

That hideous shower curtain floral print skirt you are wearing? Unacceptable.

This school's new drop off procedures? COMPLETELY UNREASONABLE.

So unless you want me to get out of my car and stick my foot in a place that will make it very uncomfortable for you to sit, stand or pace the sidewalk, from now on when you see me, you will smile, wave, compliment my hair and shoes, tell me I look like I have lost weight, say my children are the most amazing children you have ever had the pleasure of interacting with in all your years of teaching and bid me good day.

Your cooperation is appreciated.


P.S. That skirt makes your ass look huge and the new drop off procedure sucks.

Tuesday, August 18, 2009


Me: So how was your first day?
Mac: Awesome.
Me: Are a lot of your friends in your class?
Mac: Yeah, there's Troy and Eric and Brandon and Sam. They're all cool.
Me: Any hot chicks?
Mac (narrowing his eyes): Um . . . I don't even know how to answer that, Mom.
Me: Why?
Mac: Because it's disgusting. And highly inappropriate.
Me: You'll change your mind.
Mac: Well can we discuss it then? Because right now, I'm pretty uncomfortable with this whole conversation.

It's a sad day when you discover your nine year old is more mature than you are...

Monday, August 17, 2009

Confessional Vol. III

Last week I had Subway for lunch. The $5 sub of the day was the BMT. I don't really like the BMT. I prefer the Spicy Italian. But when I got to the cash register . . . I lied and said it was the BMT. I know. I am not proud. But in all fairness, I didn't really out right lie. The guy at the cash register just assumed it was the sub of the day and I didn't correct him. I'm a naughty girl.

I totally wish I had a gay guy BFF.

I bought lottery tickets for the first time in my life on Saturday. Five Powerball and five scratchers. I didn't know how to do it, I had to ask the cashier at the Circle K. She looked at me like I was an idiot.

On Thursday it was raining as I drove to work. After I parked my car, I quickly grabbed my purse, phone, umbrella, diet coke with vanilla, iPod, etc. and bolted into the building to avoid getting wet. As I put my things away I realized I didn't have my car keys. I walked outside to see if I had left them in the car. I did indeed leave them in the car. In the ignition. And the car was still running. Awesome.

My oldest son's new teacher has eyes that look in two different directions. So when you are talking to her, she is not looking at you. With either eye. And when she is talking to you, you don't know where to look. And I am already feeling like my son got slighted this year because his teacher has this distracting "difference" that she has no control of. I am judging this woman because of this. I am totally going to hell.

My baby starts Kindergarten today. And I am just hoping I can wave goodbye to her and make it back to my car (which hopefully won't be running) before I fall into a blubbering, convulsing heap of crazy. Wish me luck. ***UPDATED*** Fail. Huge fail. Not only did I not even make it out of the Kindergarten area before I started bawling, but my MIL called as I was walking to my car and I got her crying hysterically too. Super.

Thursday, August 13, 2009

Meet The Teacher: Numbers Edition

Number of minutes spent at Meet The Teacher Night: 187

Number of minutes spent actually meeting teachers: 15

Number of minutes spent waiting to meet teachers: 138

Number of minutes spent looking for a parking space in the teeny tiny sorry excuse for a parking lot at this stupid school: 18

Number of minutes spent trying to talk to my friends while my kids stood behind me whining "Come on mom! Let's GO!!": 16

Number of dollars I spent on school supplies: $63 (and that's not even everything on the lists people!)

Number of additional items required for sixth grade child, as requested by sixth grade teacher tonight: 13

Number of swear words muttered upon receiving list of additional items: 3

Number of moms seen wearing Ed Hardy tank tops: 11

Number of moms seen wearing hot pink halter dress with silver hooker heels: 1

Number of moms seen with fake boobies: 287 (estimated)

Number of times I wondered if there were any normal moms at this school: 4

Number of normal moms seen: 6

Number of times I rolled my eyes tonight: 27

Number of Tylenol needed to ease my headache and eye rolling: 3

Number of days left until school starts: 4

Number of children I have starting Kindergarten in 4 days: 1

Number of times I have already cried about this: 3

Number of kids excited to go back to school on Monday: 2 (the oldest and youngest)

Number of alcoholic beverages I plan to consume tonight to drown my sorrows over the fact that my babies are growing up and therefore I am getting older and my ovaries are dying: 2 . . . or 3 . . . maybe 4 . . . We'll just play it by ear.

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Redbox Rules

I like renting movies at the Redbox. It's fast. It's easy. It's convenient. My only beef with the Redbox is they don't have a lot of older titles, the machine is mostly filled with new stuff.

So Friday night on my way home from work, after I had already stopped at the grocery store, I stopped at a Walgreens to return two movies at the Redbox. And unfortunately, there was already a line. I took my place as the third person, and waited somewhat patiently.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

The dude in the front of the line was taking FOREVER. I leaned to the side to try to see what was his major malfunction. Dude, are you kidding me?? Are you looking at every flipping movie?? Are you seriously reading the synopsis on every movie in the stupid machine?? Pick your freaking movie and get the hell out of here! I've got groceries in the car and it's 110 degrees! I am going to go outside to melted ice and cooked chicken! Let's GO!!!

I slowly exhaled and stared up at the ceiling. I started tapping my toe to the seconds passing by. The woman in front of me turned and smiled at me sympathetically. She rolled her eyes in solidarity and then turned back around.

Tap tap tap.

Exhale again, this time with a slightly audible sigh.

Tap tap tap.

And then I heard it. A very faint ppffttt sound. And you know how there is that moment when you hear it but it takes you a minute to actually process what just happened? And then within the flash of a second you are standing in the middle of it and you know what just happened?

Oh. Em. Gee. The woman in front of me farted. And I am standing in it.

My hand flew up to block my nostrils from the offensive odor. And just as this happens, another couple gets in line behind me. They are laughing and chatting and then suddenly . . . silent. They are standing in it, too.

"Oh my God!" whispers the man.
"That is bad!" says the woman, as she walks away with her hand covering her mouth and nose.

And you know they thought it was me. My face was red from holding my breath so I am sure they took that as a sign of guilt. The man finally followed the woman, and I was left standing in the stench alone. By this time, the dude at the front of the line is on his cell phone reading movie titles and descriptions to the person on the other end. I wanted to smack him in the back of the head with the two DVD's I was holding.

Two more people approached the line: a man who stood uncomfortably close behind me, and a woman who stood off to the side and was giggling into her cell phone about the best mani/pedi she had ever had, hands down. "I mean, Karen! They did such a beautiful job! They spoke English and everything!"

Oh dear, sweet Baby Jesus. Are you trying to teach me something at this moment? Are you taking the opportunity right now to show me the glorious gift of patience? Because the timing is not really working for me tonight. I'm tired, and I've had a long day. And I just want to . . . OH PRAISE JESUS THE DUDE IS DONE!! YAY!! GLORY HALLELUJAH!!!

"Hey," says giggling racist mani/pedi girl. "Do y'all mind if I just cut in and return these really fast?" She holds up her two movies to show Farting Woman. To my shock and horror, Farting Woman nods and let's her in line.

"Thanks y'all," says Giggling Racist. "I just hate standing in line when I only have to return."

HELLO?? I only have a return!! What the hell have I been doing standing here for . . . 12 minutes?? TWELVE MINUTES?? I have been standing here for twelve minutes!

I sigh. This time, audibly. It may have even been a scream, I don't know. But after another minute or two, Giggling Racist is on her way and Farting Woman is picking out her movies and I am still waiting with No Regard For Personal Space Guy behind me, breathing on my neck. Literally.

Suffice it to say, I survived my adventure at the Redbox. And so did everyone else in line with me, although it was iffy there for a minute. I did take a moment to reflect on what Jesus taught me through this experience. He gave me the divine inspiration to write the following.

Rules for Renting at the Redbox:

1. Go to the website ahead of time ( Pick the movies you want (you can even reserve them online!!) and also choose a back up, just in case. If your movies are not available, get the hell out of line and let the next person go.

2. Do not fart on the people behind you. It's rude. (This rule can apply to any line, not just the Redbox.) If you feel the need to let one fly, get the hell out of line.

3. Do not ask to cut in line just for returns. There are people waiting in line to return. Because that is what you are supposed to do when there is a line. You are not special. Wait in line like everyone else.

4. Observe a three foot perimeter of personal space as a courtesy to those in line with you. Breathing down their necks is not going to make the line go faster. Plus it's disgusting.

So from now on, those are the Redbox rules. Spread the word. Thank you.

Sunday, August 9, 2009

Confessional Vol. II

I watched Fast & Furious with Ubes this weekend. And I got a little misty eyed. Twice. (Don't judge me dude, it was sad.)
Earlier this week I was so angry at one of my children that I could actually understand how child abuse happens. I am not condoning it. I am just saying I understand how a parent can be pushed to the brink of blood boiling fury. I walked away and told that child it would be in his best interest we didn't see each other for a while.
I accepted a FB friend request from a girl I went to high school with. And the only reason I know I went to high school with her is because FB told me so. I don't remember her. At all. But I accepted her request because I don't want to be mean.
I obviously care too much about what people think, even though I would like to say that I don't.
I think the show iCarly is hilarious. That Sam cracks me up.
Ubes loves the show "Man Caves" on the DIY Network. I like to watch it with him, but it has nothing to do with my affection for home improvement shows and everything to do with the host:

Don't even try to tell me you wouldn't let him lay your tile. Yeah, that's what I thought.

Friday, August 7, 2009

Right Now

At this moment, I am sitting in a quiet house and enjoying the fact that I am the only one awake.

I am thinking about all the things I need to do, all the things I don't want to do, and all the things I wish I could do.

I am thinking of my family, my parents, my MIL and FIL, my BIL and SIL, and wondering why it has been such a hard year for all of us.

I am looking forward to the weekend (even though I work for a few hours on Saturday), spending time with my babies, celebrating Uberman's birthday with his family, making a dent in the pile of stuff I have to do.

I am anticipating my vacation, which is in 28 days and so desperately needed.

I am thankful that for this brief moment, my AC is not running.

Oh, I spoke to soon.

I am thankful for a new day, a brief moment of quiet time all to myself, the anticipation of the future, the small giggling voices that indicate I am no longer the only one awake, the almost ten hours I will work today and the almost 5 hours I will work tomorrow.

There are many, many things I wish I could change. But right now? I am thankful for what I have.

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

Thank You Sue!

One of the things that has most surprised me about blogging is the connection I have made with so many people I would never have "met" if it weren't for this strange little cyber society we have here. I wish so many of you were my next door neighbors! My girl Sue was sweet enough to pass this Honest Scrap award on to me and I am so touched she thought I was worthy.
So here are the rules: I list ten absolutely true statements about me and then tag 10 other bloggers I find worthy.
The Truth...
1. I always wanted to be a dancer. Ballet, especially.
2. Because of the above (and out of habit), I often stand with my feet in third position. (My husband finds this hilarious.)
3. I'm a worrier. So much so that I often have to take medication to stop the painful spasms in my nervous tummy.
4. I am very compassionate and cry easily.
5. I want a bike for my birthday. (To which my middle child responded "What are you, ten?")
6. When I'm overwhelmed, I tend to bury my head like an ostrich. (Figuratively speaking.)
7. If I ever win the lottery, I am buying this purse and these shoes.
8. I never ever buy lottery tickets.
9. I wish my mom and dad lived closer.
10. I hate it that my babies are growing up.
Now the 10 people I choose to pass this on....
2. Stacey (because she has blogger's block)
4. Flintstones
5. Coffee Bean at Righteous Buzz (even though she is taking a break)
6. Becky (because she hasn't blogged in forev!)
8. Lisa (because she hasn't been blogging much either)
10. Kristi
For some reason my computer is being a douche and won't let me link some of you. But all of these fab ladies are linked to the right. Please go visit them, they are amazing and I am happy to call each one of them my friend. Whether I have met them or not!
Peace out people. I have a hot date with a load of laundry.

Monday, August 3, 2009

Confessional Vol. I (Sort of)

The other day a friend excitedly showed me her new Ed Hardy sunglasses and I told her they were really cute. The truth is, I hated them. I don't get the Ed Hardy obsession. I think most of it looks pretty trashy.

It is very unlike me to tell you I like something when I actually don't. And you can usually tell by the look on my face anyway.

I am not good at hiding my emotions. But then again, I don't try that hard either.

I would rather be like me than be that person who tells you what you want to hear and can't be honest with you. This may sound hypocritical considering the Ed Hardy thing, but I justify this by saying - it was just a pair of sunglasses. If it had been a man she wanted to marry, I would have been honest. (And I have been honest in that situation, even though it was one of the most painful things I have ever had to say.)

I want to write a book. I have even started one and written several chapters. It's good. I am proud of what I have written. And the only thing that keeps me from finishing it is the fear of failure.

I recently reconnected with a former coworker (she was actually the boss of the boss of my boss, does that make sense?) who has decided to live in New York City for one year to fulfill a lifelong dream. I am both envious and inspired by her. I WILL live in London some day.

Saturday, August 1, 2009

The One Where I Rant About School Supplies...

So I just got home from school shopping and now I need a bail out. Having kids is expensive. Especially when one of them has outgrown youth sizes. Yes, my oldest wears a man's size 8 1/2 shoe. He's not even twelve. What is it they say about puppies and their big paws? This kid's gonna be huge.

And I am not sure any of you have heard this breaking news but, the economy is in the tanker. Yes, shocking. I know. Yet you should see the lists of school supplies I am expected to buy. It's got me considering home schooling, but I just don't love my kids enough. Boo, who is entering Kinder(garten), is supposed to bring 4 boxes of Crayola crayons, three boxes of Crayola markers, 12 glue sticks, 4 bottles of Elmers glue, two reams of white copy paper, Windex wipes, a package of brown lunch sacks, Fiskar scissors, two rolls of paper towels, 2 boxes of tissues, dry erase markers (not black), a package of frozen chicken, a 52 inch plasma TV, a case of Heineken and a pair of Seven Jeans, size 30.

Okay so the last few items I may have made up. But seriously, each kid has to bring 4 boxes of crayons? Let's say there's thirty kids in each class (very likely considering the state budget cuts), they need 120 boxes of crayons for the year? Good Lord. These class rooms must have some pretty impressive storage space.

And Boo's list is not even the worst. Mac, entering 4th grade, has the longest list. Every item has a specific brand requested. Well you know what? I don't even buy myself Ziploc bags. I buy the Target brand and they work just fine. And what happened to all the scissors and crap I bought last year? Why am I buying new scissors every year? Where are the scissors going? Is there some underground eBay movement I am unaware of? Are scissors the new hot item on the black market?? I am SICK OF BUYING SCISSORS!!

So listen here School People. You will get the brands I buy and you will like them. And you will say thank you. And you will teach my kid to be a rocket scientist or a brain surgeon or even just basic math that won't make me want to rip my hair out during homework time and to stay off drugs and anything else I ask because holy crap, I am shelling out a lot of money.

I think it's time to reevaluate the child labor laws. These kids need to get jobs.

Please note that I meant no disrespect to teachers or anyone in the education profession. Uberman's family is full of teachers and principals who have dedicated their careers to making a difference in the lives of children and families and I know they are underpaid and under appreciated. I realize there are many teachers out there who spend their own hard earned money on class supplies and I say God bless you, but why can't my kids ever get one of these teachers? That's all I'm asking. Okay? Are we cool here? Sheesh.