Saturday, February 28, 2009

Sugar and Spice

So have you watched that show "Real Housewives of Orange County?"

It's a reality show about 5 snooty-tooty women who happen to live in a gated community in a suburb of L.A. It's disgusting. These women represent everything I hate about being a woman. They are vain, self-absorbed, catty, snobby and down right cruel to each other. It makes me sick.

And yet I never miss an episode.

In my defense, it was Uberman who got me hooked on it. Apparently this is what is on in the break room at work when he eats his lunch. And you know how men are, if there's no remote in sight they won't get up to change the channel. So a week later he is timing his lunch to coincide with the Housewives.

Anyhoo, end tangent.

There are so many great advantages to being a woman. We have better shoes. We can wear pink without being accused of being gay. Most of us don't have to shave our faces every day. We get that whole magical experience of carrying a baby for nine months and then squeezing it out of our nether regions. We feel. Do you know what I mean? Women are emotional, we don't need to apologize for that. We feel for people. We feel for each other in a way that men don't. Because they are too wrapped up in being manly.

And I know I have ranted about this before, but the women on this show, they represent everything bad about being a women. All the ugliness. The competition. The judgement. The backstabbing. All the reasons why men make fun of us. How can we even defend ourselves?

These women are so self absorbed and obsessed with how they look. I don't have a problem with women who want to look good. I want to look good. Don't we all? But when your whole focus is what you look like on the outside and you completely ignore the fact that you are a raving bitch on the inside, you have a problem with your priorities.

And I know!! I am watching it! I have no one to blame but myself.

I'm just tired of all this behavior in real life. And now here someone goes and puts it on TV and glorifies it. And then idiots like me watch the stupid show. And it breaks my heart that I am raising a little girl who will very soon run across girls like this. It starts on the playground, don't you remember?

I am so disgusted with myself.

Thursday, February 26, 2009

Full Circle

I had kind of a crummy day. It started bad, one of those mornings where I am a total screaming psycho trying to get the kids out the door. And I hate that. I hate sending them off to school after I have been nuts all morning.

So the two minute ride to school was nothing but me lecturing them.

"Why don't you guys listen to me? What's the point of me talking to you anymore? It just goes in one ear and out the other. You guys just don't care. I am wasting my energy, my words, my BREATH by telling you to pick up your clothes and your stuff. And it hurts me. It hurts me that you don't listen. I don't get it!! You just don't give a crap."

Fast forward 10 hours and I am driving them home from their Granny's (who kindly watches them after school for us) and I see flashing lights in my rear view. Oh, I better get of his way, he's in a hurry, I think very naively. But guess what? As I switch lanes, he follows. Butthole.

He swaggers up to my window. Why do they swagger? What is up with the swagger? Is it supposed to be menacing? Because it's not. It's just really annoying.

"Do you know why I pulled you over?"

"Because you wanted to know how I get my hair so soft and shiny?"

Okay so I really didn't say that. But I thought he was pulling me over for my window tint. Which is a wee bit too dark. Okay so it's really dark. And I have been ticketed for it before. But I didn't want to plant any ideas in his head, just in case it wasn't the tint. So I said...

"Was I speeding?"

"Do you know how fast you were going?"

If I knew, would I ask if I was speeding?? Duh.

"Ma'am, do you know what the speed limit is on this road?"

"Yes of course I do, it's 45."

"Try 40."

"No, it's 45."

Raises his eyebrow at me. "Ma'am, the posted speed limit on this road is 40 miles per hour. Do you know how fast you were going?"

"I am assuming more than 40?" He doesn't think I am funny.

"I clocked you at 55."

I exhaled slowly as he returned to his car to write up my ticket. I turned to Junior in the passenger seat.

"I am so grounded. Daddy's gonna kill me."

When we arrived home that kid sold me out right away. Ubes was ticked. I don't blame him. At first he just made that heavy breathing noise through his nose and rolled his eyes a few times.

"Are you mad at me?" I asked him.

"A little," he said. And then he said the worst thing he could ever say...

"I'm just really disappointed."

Oh, right to the heart....

"Babe! I'm sorry. I didn't know!"

"You didn't know you were speeding??"

"No, I didn't know there were cops in the area. He tricked me! He was in an unmarked car! It was one of those silver Chargers. The dirtbag."

"But I tell you and tell you you need to slow down. I tell you all the time you need to watch it. Especially on that road, they radar all the time. You don't listen to me. It goes in one ear and out the other. You don't care. It's like you don't give a crap."

And suddenly I got it. The entire world began to make sense. I knew what he was feeling, I couldn't even defend myself anymore. And I also knew what my kids felt this morning. I was able to see all sides of the story.

And now I get it. And I do give a crap. And I know how to make them give a crap. I am going to start writing tickets. Tickets are expensive. But the lesson of the consequence is totally worth it.

And I am so gonna swagger while I am doing it...

Tuesday, February 24, 2009

Faking It

As of this week I am officially the last person at work with her original boobies. Well I guess The Boy still has his. Of course I am only assuming. But out of all the girls, mine are the last boobs standing. Or um, not standing?? Technically all of their's are now standing. Fully upright. Front and center. Mine are slouching. Leaning against the wall. Too tired to care anymore. But still, they are mine.

Now don't get me wrong. I don't have any issues with enhanced boobies. I breastfed three children. I think I deserve them. I think they should be covered under insurance. More like reconstructive surgery. And if I run out of things to spend my money on, like food, shelter and cute shoes, I will totally get some for myself.

But I know who I am. And I am totally ok with my droopy, exhausted working boobies. That's what push up bras are for. My boobs do not define me. And if I got new ones, it would only be to perk them up a little. Not to full on stripperfy them. I would get them as a restoration.

But that's me. Everyone gets them for different reasons and I totally respect that. This is the lovely land of America after all. Where if you have enough money you can get stuff lifted, stapled, lipo-sucked, tucked, plumped, de-wrinkled, etc.

But this does pose a question. So I ask your opinion, dear friends. At what point is it too much? Too much fakeness?

Acrylic fingernails (we've all had them), extensions, veneers, implants, botox, collagen in the lips, colored contacts?? At what point does one person need to examine what's going on inside? And stop throwing so much money at the outside?

Some people may argue that this is indeed America and people have the right to do what they want. Where do you stand on this? I'm really curious...

Monday, February 23, 2009

The Award for Most Forgetful Goes To...

Did y'all watch the Oscars last night? Yeah, you did?

BECAUSE I DIDN'T!!

What the heck man? Can you believe this? I forgot. Like it completely slipped my mind. Until 10:30 last night when I overheard something from a TV in another room of the house. I missed it. I missed the red carpet arrivals, the dresses, Hugh Jackman and my BFF Kate Winslet winning for Best Actress.

I'm a disgrace.

The Oscars has been my Superbowl since I was in the third grade. I remember begging my mom to let me stay up to watch until the very last award. I would also spend my allowance on the People magazine the following week so I could see the pictures. I have only missed it one other time in all these years, and that was five years ago, the night my sister in law gave birth to my nephew Mr. Toad. The one night I asked her not to go into labor. And then boom. I thought she was kidding when she called us from the hospital. I still think she did it on purpose. And I have never let her forget it either.

But last night? Last night I had no excuse. I was catching up on TiVo with Uberman, so at least it wasn't a wasted evening (like waiting for the birth of some kid). But still.

Kate's never gonna want to be my BFF now...

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

The Good, The Bad and The Guilt.

There are days when I think this whole mommy thing is for the birds. Today is one of them.

I have told you all that I question my decisions every day. I struggle with guilt. Am I doing this right? Am I making the right decision? Am I too hard on them? Not hard enough? Am I permanently screwing them up because I work? Because I don't force feed them vegetables? Because I allow them to watch Sponge Bob and play video games?

Mornings are crazy around here. I have to get myself ready, get them ready, get them out the door, drop them off at two different places and then get to work. All on time. And I know I am preaching to the choir. Many of you do this every day as well with less support than I have. So humor me in my misery for a minute. Because right now it's all about me. Mmmkay?

So this morning I am barking orders, Get your shoes on! Get in here so I can comb your hair! Get your backpacks together! Where are my keys???

Half way to school Mac realized he forgot his lunch, left it sitting on the counter.

"That's okay, just buy something at school," I told him.
"It's Mac & Cheese," he complained.
"So?"
"I hate the school mac & cheese. It's disgusting and makes everyone barf."
"Who barfed?" I asked.
"Lots of kids," he replied.
"Whatever," I say waving my hand at him.
"It's true mom," Junior said. "The nurse's office is packed on mac & cheese day."

I looked at Mac in my rear view mirror. His big pouty brown eyes. His sad little face.

"Mac. I don't have time to go back home and get you your lunch. You're going to be late."
"Can't you drop us off and go back?" he pleaded.
"No. I need to get Boo to school, too. I am sorry, you shouldn't have left it on the counter."

I gripped the steering wheel the rest of the way to school, grinding my teeth. Feeling guilty about this poor kid eating vomit inducing mac & cheese. I dropped them off and watched him walk toward his class, his shoulders slumped forward, his head down in defeat.

He was killing me.

Of course I drove back home. Of course I took his lunch into the front office and begged the receptionist to run it to the class because I didn't have time. Of course I drove through town at illegal speeds to get my daughter to school on time. And of course I was 10 minutes late to work as a result of making sure my kid had a lunch he would enjoy. And of course I didn't care. I was happy my son would be happy.

Which brings us to dinner. I made chicken in the crockpot, shredded it up and added some barbecue sauce, put it on an onion roll - boom! Dinner.

Mac refused to eat it. I made him taste the chicken. There was some face making. Some coughing. A little gagging. And I said enough is enough. I refused to make him something else. I am tired of being a short order cook. I am tired. I have stuff to do. I can't be spending my evening cooking 5 different things for 5 different people. No way. I am done.

The kid made himself a sandwich.

And yet.... I still feel guilty. Even though I know I did the right thing.

And it pisses me off. It pisses me off that this kid will remember I refused to make him something else for dinner, but will totally forget I went out of my way to make sure he got his lunch.

In my next life, no kids. Not even a pet. Or a plant. Little brat.

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

The Food Police

I just spent $179.33 at the grocery store. Let's let that soak in for a minute.

Yeah.

And I didn't even buy that much. I did get some beer (for Uberman). And a bottle of wine (for me). Some cookies for the kids. A big block of cheese. I love cheese.

I am pretty sure I have enough stuff to last us through the week. At least I hope so, gee whiz. I did some menu planning this week, so I know what I am making each night and Ubes and I don't have to play that annoying "What do you want for dinner?" game. That game sucks.

I hate planning meals. I love to cook, don't get me wrong. But my family has sucked the joy of cooking right out of me. Picky picky picky.

So I am tooling around the grocery store tonight, going up and down the aisles, checking things out. Yeah, I have some interesting things in my cart. Some beer. Some wine. Some chips. Maybe a bag of marshmallows. I'm not going to lie. And I got some crazy looks. Whatever, Judgy McJudgerson.

So what if I bought some cookies? And some frozen french fries. And maybe a box of fishsticks. Am I looking in your cart and whispering to the other shoppers about your bottled water and how you are contributing to the overflowing landfills and blah blah blah?? No, I'm minding my own business. You should try it.

And so what if my dinner tonight is a bottle of pinot grigio? What's it to you? I skipped lunch and I made bean burritos for the kids so get off my case, okay? I'm not telling you how to live your life, so stuff it. Okay? OKAY??

Gawd. Some people.

Sunday, February 15, 2009

Let's Google

I think my blog is turning into a blahg. Time to pull myself up by the bra straps and snap out of my funkiliciousness.

(Oh and PS, I have decided that my psycho-ness is due to being overwhelmed. I am a control FREAK. Surprise! And when things aren't going the way I plan/want/expect/insist, I start to lose it. It's up to me to change my attitude and the way I react . . . or in most cases overreact. So stop wallowing, stop whining, stop fuming and underwhelm yourself, woman! Right?? Right!)

Moving on...

I saw this on a couple of the blogs I stalk and thought it might be fun.

The Google Game

1. Type in “[your name] needs” in the Google search.


April needs . . . a pancreas transplant.

Dear Lord, I hope not. Although maybe that is what's making me such a bitch lately. Does the pancreas have anything to do with your moods? From now on I am blaming everything on my pancreas. Forgetfulness, tardiness, crabbiness, untidiness, etc.

2. Type in “[your name] looks like” in Google search.

April looks like . . . her mother.

This I take as a compliment. My mom is beautiful. Crazy, but beautiful. Wait, maybe it's not the pancreas?? Anyhoo, the second search that popped up said April looks like a ghetto slut. Hilarious. Had to share.

3. Type in “[your name] says” in Google search.

April says . . . you should listen.

And yes, I do say this. Every day. Several times a day. To my children, to my husband. Sometimes to total strangers. It's a very annoying version of I told you so. But still, you should listen. Listening is gooooooood.

4. Type in “[your name] wants” in Google search.

April wants . . . more wine.

Yes, this is true. Especially if it's Project Happiness shared with my girls Erin and Brooke.

5. Type in “[your name] does” in Google search.

April does . . . the business.

Uuuummmm . . . what kind of business are we talking about here?

6. Type in “[your name] hates” in Google search.

April hates . . . Keesha.

This is so not true. Not only do I not hate Keesha, I do not know her. I am sure she is a lovely girl. I don't hate anybody. Seriously Keesha, we are cool.

7. Type in “[your name] asks” in Google search.

April asks . . . Frank out.

Obviously another preposterous rumor spread by the same person suggesting I have a problem with Keesha. I am happily married to a man who spent his entire morning cutting hearts out of construction paper for me. What the heck would I see in Frank?? I mean really?? Ooooh, maybe I could set him up with Keesha?

8. Type in “[your name] likes ” in Google search.

April likes . . . birds.

Oh Google. You could not be more wrong. April is slightly terrified of birds and thinks they are disgusting, disease infested creatures. Not a fan.

9. Type in “[your name] eats ” in Google search.

April eats . . . meat.

It totally depends on the type of meat. But yes, I do eat meat.

10. Type in “[your name] wears ” in Google search.

April wears . . . a smiling face.

Yes, most of the time. Not as much lately, sadly. But that is changing. See. I'm smiling now. Smiling is my favorite.

11. Type in “[your name] was arrested for” in Google Search.

April was arrested for . . . swearing.

OMG Google, are you predicting the future?? Now I am not smiling anymore. In fact, I'm a little scared.

12. Type in “[your name] loves” in Google Search.

April loves . . . black coffee.

Ha ha! Wrongo Google! April prefers her coffee with cream and two sugars! So there! You think you are so smart.

So what have we learned here today? Well, we learned a little more about April. Always interesting. And we also learned a little more about the Google. Apparently not the reliable friend we thought, eh?

He Hearts Me

I had to work yesterday. Sigh. But look what I came home to.



And then in the kitchen....


And y'all know how I love the Duds. I'm a lucky girl. And slightly amused at the thought of my Uberman (who is all things Uber and all things Man) sitting at the table with construction paper and scissors cutting out all these little hearts for me.

He will always be my Valentine.



Friday, February 13, 2009

More Tales from the Land of Psycho

So get this. Today I took Junior to get his cast off. I know, yay! Right?? Nope.

Here's how it all went down. His appointment was at 8:00 this morning. We arrived a few minutes early, checked in and waited just a moment before they called us back to the room to wait for the doctor. Where we waited. And waited. And waited. And waited some more. I heard him talking to the patient in the room to the left of us. And then the patient in the room on the right. And the patient across the hall. Oh did I forget to tell you Junior was the FIRST patient called back? No? Yeah, well HE WAS. So by 9:00, I am getting pissed. And I think I had a right to be, don't you? We had been waiting for AN HOUR.

So I go up to the receptionist. Who had her back to me. And was eating a mondo breakfast burrito. And wasn't happy I interrupted her breakfast. I asked as nicely as I could manage "Do you know if he's going to be much longer? Because I need to have my daughter to school in 15 minutes." To which she responded "Right. Your daughter is next actually." To which I responded "Really? Because my son is the patient and his appointment was at 8:00." To which she swallowed her mouthful of burrito and said "He'll be right in."

Less than 30 seconds after I sat back down in the room, the doctor came in, completely avoiding eye contact with me. He looked at Junior's updated x-rays, examined his finger, whistled for a minute and then said he didn't feel comfortable releasing Junior to play baseball and wants him to wear the splint two more weeks. He then sent us to "casting" to get fitted for another splint, taking up 20 more minutes of my time. I so did not like him at this point. By the time we got out of there, Boo was 30 minutes late for school, Junior was worried about getting dropped from his team and I wanted to rip someone's head off.

My day just deteriorated from there. It was a full day of angry people at work, things not going right at work, bad traffic on the way home, blah blah blah. And then tonight I check my email and find out Mac did not get the coach we requested. The same coach he has played with for the last three years. What the heck? How could this happen? Was there a mix-up? Or did the coach just not pick him? And it's too late for me to call the coach and say "Hey. What's your problem? How dare you not pick my kid for your stupid team?? Your team will SUCK this year because of it. So there."

I did send him a very nice email asking if there was a mix-up with the draft and if there was anything we could do. But still.

Now I am all sad and ticked off and wondering what is wrong with me again. Why am I so tense lately? I have no patience and I am being so oversensitive. It is so not like me. And I know it. And I don't like feeling this way. What if I have a tumor? And it's making me mean? It's a mean tumor?

Or worse... What if I really am . . . gulp . . . peri-menopausal?? (Shudder.)

It's impossible, right?? I'm too young, right??? I mean people don't go through it in their thirties. Right? RIGHT???

I'm going to bed. With any luck I won't wake up. Oh relax. That was a joke.

Monday, February 9, 2009

He Said She Said

Your wait is over. You can get Uberman's side of the story here.

Good luck. And God help us all.

Sunday, February 8, 2009

Wild Pitch

Uberman and I were enjoying a quiet evening at home. Suddenly we hear a slight commotion, followed by a loud cry and then a bunch of muffled I'm sorries - "I'm so sorry, please don't tell mom!!"

No such luck.

Boo comes crying to us in the office. Followed by Mac, who was anxiously trying to explain his version of the story before she could finish.

Boo: Mommy! Mac hit me in the face with a baaaaallllllllllll!!
Mac: It was an accident! I didn't mean to hit her!!
Me: How do you accidentally hit your sister in the face with a ball??
Mac: I was aiming for my brother. And I missed.

Saturday, February 7, 2009

Random Saturday Post

Wow. Can you smell my breath?? Because I can and it is not good. I just ate chips and salsa. Yeah, I know. I have been binging a little lately. But it's okay because I think I might be coming down with a small case of bulimia. Okay that was a joke. And a bad one. Get over it. Are we ready to move on now??

So my mom was here all last week. Which could account for why I have been missing from blog land lately. I was really busy drinking wine spending time with her. And while she was here she spoiled us with her culinary talents. She made homemade salsa. And spaghetti sauce. And the most delicious halibut that I could not eat because I am allergic. But I still had a small taste. Or two. Or three. And then itched like crazy the rest of the night. Dude, what is up with that?? Why can't I be allergic to something yucky like broccoli? Or lamb? But no, it's this delicious flaky white fish that melted in your mouth and caused you to make noises you normally don't make while eating dinner.

Moving on....

It was nice having my mom as a house guest, even if she hadn't cooked and cleaned and taken care of the babies for us. It's funny how no matter how old you get, there are times in your life when you just need your mama. And I did need her this week.

I'm a lucky girl.

And I am considering all of your generous advice about my FB debacle. And Uberman is very thankful to all of you who agreed I need to hit ignore on the old friend.

And speaking of Uberman.... Big announcement!! Are you ready???

Really, are you sure???

Uberman has started a BLOG!!!

(thunderous applause)

I know! How exciting. But he is not ready for me to link him yet. He is not ready to come out of the blogging closet, so to speak. So you just have to be patient. But soon, dear friends. Soon.

Now we just have to work on my good friend Kristen S. Because she is HILARIOUS!!! And you all would read her blog, wouldn't you??

Stay tuned....

Friday, February 6, 2009

Add Friend??

I think I just ate my weight in chips and dip. And since I am confessing I will tell you I also ate two Entenmans chocolate donuts. Hey, don't judge me. I feel sick, okay?? Are you happy??

Anyhoo...

I need some advice. It's about Facebook. I know!! Okay??? I know!! I am totally an addict. I'm aware. Can we move on please?? God. You're so judgmental today.

So tell me dear friends. What do you do when you get a friend request from someone you have ZERO desire to be friends with?? Say it's someone from your past, or even worse, someone from your work. Like maybe even YOUR FREAKING BOSS. Dudes. How do you handle this debacle?? Because that is really what this is. A major debacle. How do you tell your boss you do not want to be her FB friend. I can't use the excuse that I don't want to be friends with people from work. Because I have TWO FB friends from work. That would be lying. Do you think she will understand if I tell her it's just too awkward?? Or do you think I am totally screwed?? Yeah. That's what I was afraid of.

So what about the people from your past?? The people who (Is it who or whom here?? Because I can never remember this rule.) you really didn't like that much when you knew them before. Because they were a little too judgy. And unkind. And maybe even crazy.

Or maybe they just stopped speaking to you and told everyone it was because you thought you were too good for them even though you NEVER thought that. It was just that you didn't agree with the choices they were making because they were HUGE mistakes that you could plainly see. HUGE mistakes. Possibly even illegal mistakes?? Are you following me here?? Don't go accusing me of being judgy because I am so not being judgy. I just didn't want to get arrested. Because that would be bad.

So anyhoooooo. Let's say this person used to be your very good friend. Knew everything about you. The good and the bad. And then threw their life away because they were stupid. And selfish. And stubborn. And then quit talking to you one day even though you jeopardized a lot for this person. Even though you were there for this person. Through good and bad. And when I say bad, dudes, I mean baaaaaaad. And you smiled politely and said nothing when this person talked all kinds of crap about you after you finally had enough and quit speaking. Because you didn't have anything in common anymore. And it was just too painful for you to watch the downward spiral. And you decided it was time for some tough love. And it hurt. Tremendously. And you mourned. And you finally got to a place where you could forgive, even though the person was still spinning lies to people you had in common. And then one day out of the blue, you get a friend request. And you don't want to hurt their feelings because you know they have made some changes. In the right direction. But you are not sure if you want to open yourself up to that again. You are not sure if this person is still toxic.

What do you do?? Do you click ignore?? Or do you accept?? And open a window that might be best left closed....

What do you do??