Plaguemageddon

February 26, 2010

While some of you are sufferring from SNOWmageddon, we have been suffering from the plague here.

The plague which leaves you feverish, coughing, and in the case of one member of this family, wishing for better bladder control.

I texted Susan yesterday that I really need to keep better track of my periods, if only for the fact so I can know whether or not the muderous rage I feel is justified or the result of PMS. I told her I would normally eat a handful of candy and down a bottle of wine, but I gave those up for Lent. So clearly my only available option was murder. She agreed. Jesus would understand. She also offered me bail money and isn’t that what friends are for? It made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Or maybe that was the Nyquil. (I will cough on the first person who points out that Nyquil contains both alcohol and sugar. It is medicinal. Jesus approved loophole.)

I was thinking this morning, as I rushed my 15yr old out the front door while shoving Sudafed and dollar bills into his hand, that highschool is so much more intense now than I remember it. (That makes it sound like he is running a meth lab in his spare time, doesn’t it? He isn’t. At least not that I know of. Kids these days!) My son is so busy, and while I get on him for not making the best use of his time, the truth of the matter is that he doesn’t have all that much free time to waste. Which comes full circle back to why I get so annoyed when he doesn’t make the most efficient use of his free time.

He told me the other day his life motto is why do it today if I can do it tomorrow, because tomorrow you might forget all about it. Said, of course, with a flash of the dimples that allow him to get away with murder.

Last night he arrived home from his baseball game at 10:45pm. I fell asleep while waiting for him. He woke me to find out if there was any leftover dinner. There wasn’t. I told him to eat some cereal. For the record, he had money to go and eat dinner after school, before the bus left for the game. Which he did, but that had been at 5:00 and teenagers need to eat as often as newborns.

I handed him another $10 this morning. Yup, he has another game tonight. I hope all the exercise helps keeps his arteries unclogged in spite of all the fast food he is eating

I had more I was going to write, but you know when you find yourself singing along to the Fresh Beat Band that it is time to get up and get your ass out of the damn house. Especially when you look down at yourself and discover you are wearing two hoodies on top of each other, one of which has Nyquil dripped down the front of it, and a pair of yoga pants with the knees worn out. Man, I am so sexy.

Snowman!

February 24, 2010

Or, according to my kids, a snowboy.

I was talking to Susan on the phone yesterday when the kids arrived home from school. She jokingly asked if Texas snow was different from CT snow.

Well, for one thing my daughter is outside playing in it wearing a skirt and MaryJanes, I answered.

Later on in the day as I was driving out of our neighborhood I realized that every single house where a child lived had a snowman out front. All of them in the middle of a snowless area of the yard, covered in dead grass. It is supposed to be in the mid 50’s today. I suspect by the end of the day there will be puddles with rocks, carrots, hats and scarves in every single lawn. It was fun while it lasted.

That is the best thing about Texas snow, it doesn’t stick around long enough for you to get sick of it. It doesn’t ask for any special accomodations from you. It leaves you happy, wishing for more.

Snow, Texas Style

February 23, 2010

The scene driving my 7th and 8th graders to school. Heated debate between them and their friend over whether this is actually considered snow. My kids say it is sleet. Their friend says that if it is white and falls from the sky, it is snow. I settle the debate and say it is snow, texas style.

I am somewhat surprised that there even is school today. One of my neighbors who is from California and has never in her life had to deal with snow before called me this morning.

Chris? What are we supposed to do?

Just try to stay alive.

I feel like you are probably kidding.

Note the lack of winter gear. Pajamas, rain boots, and a hat.

A snow ball.

Miles looks at the snowball he just threw on the ground.

Well, that was fun. Let’s go back inside now.

And so we did.

I, however, refrained from jumping on the couch.

My highschool son texted me that they are all outside playing in the snow. And I wonder about my little kids who were scheduled to take practice TAKS tests all day today. I hope they get to go outside and enjoy the snow for at least a little bit.

Time Doesn’t Fly

February 20, 2010

Sometimes it crawls along slowly.

It has been a year.

I miss that old house. All the blood, sweat and tears that went into it seem lost now.

I miss the screened in sun porch where we would spend hours every day during the summer.

I miss the sunroom/playroom with the built-in bookcase, where all the toys had a home.

I miss the wood burning stove that we would huddle around on cold days. And the stained glass window.

I miss the blueberry bushes in the backyard where we would pick buckets and buckets of blueberries. I never had any idea how expensive blueberries were until I went to purchase some at the grocery this year.

I miss my kitchen that was finally finished when it was time to move.

I miss the me that used to love planning projects for the old house, cutting pictures out of magazines, measuring walls, obsessively picking out paint colors until I found the perfect one.

.
I miss giving my little kids baths in the old clawfoot tubs.

Don’t get me wrong I like the house I have now. But it isn’t the same. It isn’t special. It is one of many identical houses in a subdivision of similar houses. I still remember the first day when we pulled into the subdivision and my 13 yr old son wondered how we would ever find our house since they all looked the same.

It is a nice house. I am grateful for it. But this house doesn’t have a soul. It just doesn’t feel like home.

Yet, at the same time I have not been able to motivate myself to do anything about that. To change it. To make it feel like ours.

The same ugly curtains that came with the house are still hanging on the windows.

The hideous baby poop brown colored paint is still on the walls.

The things that I have hung on the walls I have hung where there were already existing nails.

I am not unhappy here. It is possible to simultaneously mourn the old life and be happy in this new life. They are so different, my life so very changed, that it is hard to reconcile the two in my brain.

That was then, the before. This is now.

Bullet Point Wednesday

February 17, 2010

Because who has time for complete sentences these days.

- Spent almost an hour in the doctor’s office today where my 6 and 9yr olds were tested for strep and the flu. Both tests negative. They just have a virus. And I have $48 less in my wallet. $40 for the co-pay, $8 for the slushies from Sonic I promised to buy if they would JUST OPEN THEIR MOUTH already. Sheesh it is a long q-tip, not a dagger.

Better parenting through bribery I always say. (See also the parenting techniques called: empty threats, yelling, and counting to two repeatedly while saying, “Don’t make me say three.”)

- While waiting in the doctor’s office for all the tests to come back, we watched youtube videos on my iPhone. That alone justifies the cost. We watched the original Thriller video. My jaded children were nonplussed. I told them how when I was a kid it was so exciting and I stayed by my tv to watch the Thriller premiere.
Why didn’t you just tivo it, Mom?
The same reason I didn’t text my friends.
You didn’t have any?
Exactly

Though they were very interested in the fact that Michael Jackson used to be black. Then we watched vintage Sesame street videos. A fact that made me feel very old– or as they say now– vintage.

-I think my children eat socks for snacks. That is the only explanation I can come up with to explain the sock disappearance in my house. My oldest son accused me of “doing something” with all of his socks. Yes, son, I throw them away because I love listening to you whine and complain about your missing socks almost as much as spending my hard earned money replacing them!

- My children were feverish, yet compliant and quiet when I brought them into the doctor. She loaded them up on Motrin and now they won’t stop bitching and moaning about everything under the sun. They want to be entertained:

What are we doing today?
We are doing THIS. THIS is what we are doing.

Then I gesticulate at the nothingness that surrounds me.

They want to eat. French fries.

I make them while they whhhiiiiiiine about how hungry they are. Whhhhhhyyyyy is it taking so long. They will surely diiiiiiiiie.

When the fries are done cooking they eat three french fries. Total

- This is my new hairdo. I sense that this will be a running theme this year. I am embracing my inner 12 yr old. I never wear my hair in a ponytail. Ever. So this is as dramatic a new hairdo as the haircut from hell. I have been wearing all my big earrings to detract from the hair. Look, something shiny! Literally!

Ignore the claw that is my hand.

-I have given up sugar and alcohol for Lent. I have not, however, given up Nyquil. I bought several bottles in anticipation of the next 30 days.

Oh, I kid. Wine is way cheaper than Nyquil.

Scenes from the Weekend

February 16, 2010

I never celebrated valentine’s day until I had children. They love candy and/or presents for every holiday that comes around. (What do you mean we don’t get anything for Groundhog’s Day?)

Yes, it’s that time of year.

Baseball. Baseball. Baseball.

Or more accurately: baseball, baseball, baseball, baseball, baseball. Five different teams this year.

A photo of my Valentine’s Day date. (Again) He is the kid who goes and goes and goes and you have no idea that he is even sick until he finally sits still and you happen to notice the tell-tale glassy eyed look. He spent Sunday just lounging around watching tv and napping on the couch. Monday he was up running around like he had never even heard of being sick. I thought he was all better. Last night we were lying in my bed doing his reading, because yes we do like to wait until the last possible moment to do our homeowrk, when he mentioned he was cold. Except it wasn’t cold in the house. In fact we had a fire going in the fireplace so it was on the warm side. I took his temperature… 103. Just how you have a 103 degree temperature and not notice you are sick is beyond me.

Moody Miles going to his first practice. He is mad because he is not on the Yankees this year. I know, you can not tell this by the way he is dressed, but he is mad nonetheless.

Somehow, inexplicably, I volunteered myself to be the Team Mom of his team. So that should be “fun.”

The Hair Photos

February 13, 2010

This is the left side of my head. It is layered, but at least they are longer.

And this is the horror of the right side of my head. Yes, this is all the hair on the right side of my head if you drew a diagonal line from in front of my ear to the crown of my head. And because she used the razor scissors thingy it looks like side of my hair was singed.

I realized after I washed my hair this morning that she also made my bangs much thicker… on the right side. Even though my hair grows quickly, it is going to take forever to grow out.

So please no one say anymore that it isn’t that bad. It is that bad. And no I am not going to try and have it evened out because then I WOULD BE BALD!

On a brighter note, look at the handsome lunch date I had this afternoon:

He doesn’t care what my hair looks like. And I don’t care that he spent the afternoon sporting an orange soda mustache. Sadly, he fell ill shortly after this and is currently curled up on the couch next to me with a fever.

2010: The Year of the (Almost) Ponytail

February 12, 2010

My hair had grown rather long, Duggaresque. It grows really quickly, Thank GOD.

Last night I went and had my hair cut and colored.

I told the hairdresser I wanted my hair cut to about my armpit in the front. This is a pretty drastic amount of hair for me to have cut off at one time. After being traumatized by the pixie cut when I was five years old I have never liked getting my hair cut.

Just to be perfectly clear, I demonstrated the length by grabbing my wet hair and showing her exactly how much I wanted cut off. She laughed and said she never had anyone say that before. And I said that I hate talking in inches because 1″ to regular people means shave my neck to hairdressers.

She begins cutting and I think that’s slightly shorter than what I wanted, but its fine. Then she starts with the layering. She grabs the whole top section of my hair, holds it up over my head and CUTS IT IN HALF. The huge chunk of hair falls back down is is about chin length.

I screamed. As in literally screamed.

The people next to me went silent.

She assured me that once my hair was dry “it would all blend.”

Really? Is it somehow going to magically grow longer once it is dried?

I am not sure I can fully explain the horror of the haircut once it was dry. But I cried. I cried and held up the front choppy section of my hair and asked what this was supposed to be. It looks like I am growing out really thick bangs, you know the kind that people have when they have a MULLET. Oh God,that is exactly what it looks like. It looks like I am growing out a mullet.

The photos don’t really show how bad it looks in person. Though you can see how uneven it is. Why does it go to a point?? So many short choppy layers. My hair is not thick. It is straight. Choppy layers do nothing for it other than to point out, “Hey look at me I am a huge chunk of short hair laying on top of some longer hair!”

I have had several people tell me recently that I am a doormat. I scoffed and said that no, what I am is polite. Last night as I was trying to stop crying, I was also trying to make the hairdresser feel better. Because I didn’t want her to feel bad for giving me a crappy haircut? Then I paid and still gave her a tip. And then, as I was making ANOTHER appointment with her it suddenly occurred to me, I AM A DOORMAT. A doormat who doesn’t like to make a scene. A doormat with a really bad haircut.

*****

I left the hairdresser, twittering about how bad the haircut was. And yes, I get that it is only hair. And that yes, it will grow back. Eventually. And that there are people out there who wish they had my bad haircut. Because they are bald. I should just be thankful that I even HAVE A HEAD. Count my blessings, or hair follicles or something.

I had promised my kids that I would bring them home fast food for dinner so I stopped into Burger King. The place was empty. Completely empty. Probably because it was close to 8:00pm and pouring rain.

So I go in and I order:
8 bacon double cheeseburgers
2 double cheeseburgers, only cheese
2 spicy chicken sandwiches, no lettuce
2 whoppers
7 french fries
one 4 piece chicken nuggets

And the guy at the counter says, “For here or to go?”

I paused and looked around me. Yup, still the ONLY person in the store.

“Do you think I am going to sit here and eat all of this myself?”

We both started laughing. But then I started crying. And I think that scared him a little. Probably more than if I had taken a huge tray of food and sat in the corner eating it all.

It is still making me laugh. So thank you for that man with the neck tattoos who took my food order.

*****

You know how sometimes you get up in the morning and things seem better?
Well, if it is even possible, my hair looks worse.

I was going to call 2010 the Year of the Ponytail, but then I realized this morning that the front of my hair doesn’t reach into a ponytail.

2010, you promised me you were going to be a better year. So far you are just like that bitch 2009.

Love Thursday: Valentine’s Day

The kids had early dismissal from school yesterday. We made Valentine’s Day cards and decorated their (mail) boxes for school.

By the time evening rolled around there were craft supplies everywhere.

It was easily the best afternoon we had together in awhile.

Just When You Think You Are Getting a Hang of This Parenting Thing

February 11, 2010

I have been unpacking the last boxes in my garage. They seem to reproduce in the dark of night because as I go through them more boxes seem to take their place. Culling through junk that can be donated or thrown away. Getting honest with myself about what things I really need, or even want. It is a daunting task and I don’t even have much. I am a sort of the anti-hoarder, except when it comes to books. But that is a whole different post– my inability to get rid of books.

These are just some of the children’s books:

I need more bookcases. Or less books.

Last week I went through my closet. I easily got rid of half of my shoe collection. The fact that I am using the word collection should be a clue that I had too many. I got rid of pocketbooks, or purses as the rest of you kids under 85 yrs old call them. I was amazed at all the forgotten things that were left behind in those pocketbooks. I got rid of clothes that I like, but never wear. Evidently I don’t like them all that much.

This backstory is important to how the rest of the story unfolds.

*****
Mom, what’s BJ?

a BJ? What is that?

In my head in ten seconds:

Why is he asking me that?
Oh, God, do I have to answer that?
Where is that lightening bolt when you need it?
Can I just ignore him?
Maybe I can change the subject.
Isn’t he doing anything wrong that I can start yelling at him for? thereby changing the subject without him noticing?
Should I lie?
Should I tell the truth?
Sometimes when two grown-ups like each other a lot…
Oh, no.
No, no, no, no.
NO.
WHERE IS THAT BOLT OF LIGHTENING?
I feel sick.
Why is he still looking at me?
Oh, I know. I’ll ask more questions…

Well, what do you think a BJ is?

If I knew that I wouldn’t ask you.

Damn. That didn’t work.
Also, he is such a smart ass.
GAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH
Why can’t I will my phone to ring?
Why? Why?
I will ask more questions!

Where did you hear this BJ thing?

I read it.

WTF is he reading these days?
Frog and Toad are REALLY GOOD Friends?
Kneel Down, Amelia Bedilia?
If You Give a Mouse …

Stop. Stop.

He whips something out from behind his back.

Ahahahahahahahahaha. I can not catch my breath.

It is a store. Remember it? Like Costco. Or WalMart.

Ooooh. I wondered what a BJ Club was. I thought a BJ was something you bought.

Ahahahahahahahahaha.

Hopefully not. I think that is only legal in some parts of Nevada.

What? Why is it funny?

Note to self: SHUT UP!

Hey, is that lightening I hear?

*****

(I forget sometimes that I update things on twitter (@chrisjordan) and never write them here. YES, my oldest son made the highschool baseball team. Thank you for all the crossed fingers. Hope they aren’t too cramped up after all this time.)