OK - as explanation to the whole "flying margarita" thing...you have to go back 2 posts and read "Top 10 Reasons Why I Should Be an Alcoholic". One of those reasons had to do with my inability to relax and let Chase be creative. So I started working on that. The photo is proof that I tried. This would be C's painting on one of our large picture windows. (I painted too - palm trees, fish, margaritas...) Anyway, I let C paint his "island", made up of about 6 different colors all mixed together. I also didn't freak out at the paint splatters on the window or wall (no worries about the carpet - I had put a sheet down.) All in all, I think it was good progress. Today, we colored in a coloring book for a half an hour or so. C did his side, and I did mine. I didn't even freak out when he took his fuchsia marker and began embellishing my wonderful masterpiece "Cow Baking an Apple Pie." It was really, really hard, but I bit my tongue and let him have at it. Hopefully my hard-won restraint will pay off in creative dividends for my little man.
Ferraris are really cool cars. Have you ever seen one up close before? Have you ever ridden in one? Have you ever driven one? Most people I know would answer "no" to all of those questions. But my friend has a bright and shiny red one right in her garage! It is be-you-tee-ful. I have now seen it up close, I hope to get a ride in it someday, and she'd be damned crazy to even think about letting me drive it! Here's the thing: some people might be jealous or envious of this person's car. Some people might make assumptions about this person because of this car (not an unusual occurrence in this relatively wealthy part if Tampa.) But this person really deserves this car. She and her husband worked really hard for a lot of years, and their work has paid off. These people are the some of the kindest, most humble, most caring people I know. They didn't grow up with money, so they appreciate their blessings all that much more. I could not be more excited for my friend - I think it is all WAY COOL. So if you see a hot strawberry blonde chick driving around Tampa in a red Ferrari blaring Aerosmith or Motley Crue, honk and wave! ;)
I'll finish up with the pasta. Who's brilliant idea was it to introduce "Whole Wheat Pasta" into the American diet? Have you tried this stuff? IT SUCKS. The Ronzo sucks. The Mueller sucks. The Publix brand sucks. It's just awful. I mean, I suppose we all want to be healthier. But I wouldn't eat dirt if you told me THAT was healthy. So why in the hell would we eat this crap? I'm fairly certain that they don't eat whole wheat pasta in Italy. (Not 100% certain, but I'm willing to gamble on this one.) Haven't people been making pasta for thousands of years? In all those years, how many times did Whole Wheat Pasta become popular? None. That's because it sucks. I made a "healthy pasta salad" last week. It was so bad, we literally threw it in the trash and ate cereal for dinner instead. So save yourself the trouble and just go ahead and get the good ole pasta that we all know and love. Eating it on occasion isn't going to kill you. However, the taste of the whole wheat crap just might!
PS - keep your fingers crossed for my baby girl - we're going to see Dr. Dickhead to get her adenoids out on Thursday. (see earlier post about Adenoids and Dr. Dickhead...)
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Sunday, April 27, 2008
UFMs....(Unidentified Flying Margaritas)
There has been an alert issued from McDill Air Force Base in Tampa, Florida...reports are coming in of an unidentified flying object over the Northwest Tampa area. Reports claim that it appears to be a flying Margarita. That's affirmative - a flying Margarita. If you see the flying Margarita, do not attempt to make contact with it. Immediate contact could cause delusional behavior, dancing on tables, occasional vomiting, an uncontrollable urge to show one's breasts for cheap plastic beads, and a desire to kick someone's ass. More info coming soon...
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Top 10 Reasons Why I Should Be An Alcoholic
Earlier today, I posted a long, ranting blog about patriotism, the presidential election, etc. But after a few hours (and a rather horrific fingerpainting incident), I decided it was just WAAAAAAAAAY too heavy. For those of you who missed it, it basically said that I'm very Patriotic and Proud to be an American, that I think this country is great, that if you don't like it here you can get the hell out, and that I'm terrified Obama will become President.
That being said, here are the top 10 reasons why I SHOULD be an alcoholic (or top 10 reasons why I really need a girl's weekend):
10. The Cat With Nine Lives. My cat - who I kinda ended up with by accident and who is totally antisocial and pretty much thinks I'm annoying for even intruding into his world - was "diagnosed" with some sort of mystery intestinal cancer. This was, oh - about 3 years ago. After thousands of dollars of tests (no joke), they determined that without a doubt he "might have some sort of cancer." In order to keep him from pooping, peeing, and vomiting in inappropriate locations, we have to diligently medicate him with steroids and a kitty anti-depressant. They told us he might live 6 months. That was three years ago. He's going to live forever.
9. I'm having trouble fitting into my genes. I diet, and I gain weight. I don't diet, and I gain weight. It's a losing battle. I figure that the reason I can't fit into my jeans is because of my genes. I'm fighting roughly a half dozen generations of less-than-petite genes. I'm not sure I can win. Hell, I'm not sure I can even break even.
8. Two steps forward and one step back. I go to the gym. I run, really hard. Then I look down at the speed, and see I'm travelling at roughly the speed of a 90 year old with her walker. It really seemed like I was running fast...
7. Canine Disobedience. The dog I got to replace my irreplaceable dog is a little, well rowdy. He didn't make it through an obedience class because he wasn't quite "socialized" enough. I used to train animals for a living, but I can't get this dog to do a damned thing.
6. "Board"-um. I volunteered for a position on the PTA Board today. I'm a little concerned, because when I was walking to the bus stop today, one PTA member pointed at me and yelled "There she is! Beth's going to do it!" All the other PTA moms cheered. When I asked what the deal was, I was told that so many people were leaving the Board that they are desperate. So my first thought was "What in the hell have I gotten myself into?" and my second thought was "How bad is it that they practically through me a party at the bus stop just for volunteering?"
5. Task Master. Have you guys ever read that goofy email, the one about how a woman goes to check the mail, and ends up doing 50 different things that prevent her from going to check the mail? That's me. I have multiple home projects in mid-stream. I have multiple scrapbook projects in mid-stream. I have multiple vacation plans in mid-stream. I never get anything done, because every time I start something, I get distracted by something else. I sit down to check my email, but find some old pictures on the desk. I take the old pictures to the closet (where my scrapbook stuff is), and realize I have dirty clothes piled to the ceiling. So I take the laundry to the laundry room, only to discover that the cat has kicked litter all over the place. So I go downstairs to get the broom and dustpan but see a package on the front step. So I open the package, and it's birthday gifts for a few people whose birthday's aren't for a few weeks. So I put the gifts into the closet and see the curtain rods I've been meaning to hang. So I get out the curtain rods and head out into the garage to get the drill. While there, I see the 3 plants that I had bought earlier that day but forgot to put int he ground. So I go out front to plant the 3 plants and realize I haven' watered the new grass plugs. So I water the new grass plugs, and then go get the mail. The mail had coupons, so I go through those and cut out the good ones. I go to put them in the coupon folder and realize the pantry is a MESS. I could literally go on like this FOREVER. This is really the way I am. And they want me on the PTA Board?
4. "It's da chooze". (That's from The Birdcage, in case you missed it.) I firmly believe that during the course of the day and night, little kid's shoes walk themselves down the stairs and take up residence in various places on the floor. No matter how many times they are taken upstairs, or who takes them upstairs, they always end up on the living room floor. Where I proceed to trip over them in the middle of the night when I'm looking for chocolate.
3. Ipod Ipod We all Scream For Ipod! I have an Ipod. I love it. But does it really do me any good if I can't seem to find time to add new songs to it? I mean really, how many times can I listen to "Low" by Flo Rida? I'll sit down to download, and I realize...(see #5)
2. House Hunters. I am starting to think I a obsessed with this show. Few things in life give me as much of a thrill as seeing a new House Hunters episode. House Hunters International? Even better. In the tropics? SCORE! I have about a 99.6% accuracy rate at choosing which house the buyers will choose. This week it's "first time buyers" week, and I caught myself actually counselling the couple on which house to buy. ("Get the one with the bigger lot! You can replace the cabinets, for Christ's sake!") ("The house isn't too small, honey - maybe you're too big...") Seriously.
1. Color inside the lines! I'm really not cut out for having kids. I mean, you're supposed to encourage the kids to have artistic expression. Create! Be free! Imagine! I have a problem with this. I'm anal-retentive. I'm a control freak. And I like to color INSIDE the lines. Today, I spent 45 minutes cleaning up red footprints and green drips from the carpet. (Chase painted his foot and then decided to take his dripping green paintbrush to the bathroom...) I'm not sure what bothered me more: cleaning up the mess, or the color thing. You see, Chase likes to mix the colors. He thinks the yucky brown caused by mixing purple and red and orange and yellow is great! He also does this with Play Doh. I'll put out 6 cans of beautiful, brand new colors, and within minutes it's all in one big mush. This drives me INSANE. I try really hard to "let go", but it's just not in me. You can't get those play doh colors apart, you know. They're like that for good. And the paint? How are you supposed to paint anything if all the colors are fucked up? (excuse the language)
So after a day of cleaning up cat vomit,gaining 2 pounds,running really slowly on the treadmill,trying to get the dog to do ANYTHING, finding out more about the PTA Board,picking up shoes for the 13th time, writing down songs on little scraps of paper so I can one day put them on my Ipod, watching at least 2 episodes of House Hunters, and having a painting session with my kids....
I'm ready for a DRINK!
That being said, here are the top 10 reasons why I SHOULD be an alcoholic (or top 10 reasons why I really need a girl's weekend):
10. The Cat With Nine Lives. My cat - who I kinda ended up with by accident and who is totally antisocial and pretty much thinks I'm annoying for even intruding into his world - was "diagnosed" with some sort of mystery intestinal cancer. This was, oh - about 3 years ago. After thousands of dollars of tests (no joke), they determined that without a doubt he "might have some sort of cancer." In order to keep him from pooping, peeing, and vomiting in inappropriate locations, we have to diligently medicate him with steroids and a kitty anti-depressant. They told us he might live 6 months. That was three years ago. He's going to live forever.
9. I'm having trouble fitting into my genes. I diet, and I gain weight. I don't diet, and I gain weight. It's a losing battle. I figure that the reason I can't fit into my jeans is because of my genes. I'm fighting roughly a half dozen generations of less-than-petite genes. I'm not sure I can win. Hell, I'm not sure I can even break even.
8. Two steps forward and one step back. I go to the gym. I run, really hard. Then I look down at the speed, and see I'm travelling at roughly the speed of a 90 year old with her walker. It really seemed like I was running fast...
7. Canine Disobedience. The dog I got to replace my irreplaceable dog is a little, well rowdy. He didn't make it through an obedience class because he wasn't quite "socialized" enough. I used to train animals for a living, but I can't get this dog to do a damned thing.
6. "Board"-um. I volunteered for a position on the PTA Board today. I'm a little concerned, because when I was walking to the bus stop today, one PTA member pointed at me and yelled "There she is! Beth's going to do it!" All the other PTA moms cheered. When I asked what the deal was, I was told that so many people were leaving the Board that they are desperate. So my first thought was "What in the hell have I gotten myself into?" and my second thought was "How bad is it that they practically through me a party at the bus stop just for volunteering?"
5. Task Master. Have you guys ever read that goofy email, the one about how a woman goes to check the mail, and ends up doing 50 different things that prevent her from going to check the mail? That's me. I have multiple home projects in mid-stream. I have multiple scrapbook projects in mid-stream. I have multiple vacation plans in mid-stream. I never get anything done, because every time I start something, I get distracted by something else. I sit down to check my email, but find some old pictures on the desk. I take the old pictures to the closet (where my scrapbook stuff is), and realize I have dirty clothes piled to the ceiling. So I take the laundry to the laundry room, only to discover that the cat has kicked litter all over the place. So I go downstairs to get the broom and dustpan but see a package on the front step. So I open the package, and it's birthday gifts for a few people whose birthday's aren't for a few weeks. So I put the gifts into the closet and see the curtain rods I've been meaning to hang. So I get out the curtain rods and head out into the garage to get the drill. While there, I see the 3 plants that I had bought earlier that day but forgot to put int he ground. So I go out front to plant the 3 plants and realize I haven' watered the new grass plugs. So I water the new grass plugs, and then go get the mail. The mail had coupons, so I go through those and cut out the good ones. I go to put them in the coupon folder and realize the pantry is a MESS. I could literally go on like this FOREVER. This is really the way I am. And they want me on the PTA Board?
4. "It's da chooze". (That's from The Birdcage, in case you missed it.) I firmly believe that during the course of the day and night, little kid's shoes walk themselves down the stairs and take up residence in various places on the floor. No matter how many times they are taken upstairs, or who takes them upstairs, they always end up on the living room floor. Where I proceed to trip over them in the middle of the night when I'm looking for chocolate.
3. Ipod Ipod We all Scream For Ipod! I have an Ipod. I love it. But does it really do me any good if I can't seem to find time to add new songs to it? I mean really, how many times can I listen to "Low" by Flo Rida? I'll sit down to download, and I realize...(see #5)
2. House Hunters. I am starting to think I a obsessed with this show. Few things in life give me as much of a thrill as seeing a new House Hunters episode. House Hunters International? Even better. In the tropics? SCORE! I have about a 99.6% accuracy rate at choosing which house the buyers will choose. This week it's "first time buyers" week, and I caught myself actually counselling the couple on which house to buy. ("Get the one with the bigger lot! You can replace the cabinets, for Christ's sake!") ("The house isn't too small, honey - maybe you're too big...") Seriously.
1. Color inside the lines! I'm really not cut out for having kids. I mean, you're supposed to encourage the kids to have artistic expression. Create! Be free! Imagine! I have a problem with this. I'm anal-retentive. I'm a control freak. And I like to color INSIDE the lines. Today, I spent 45 minutes cleaning up red footprints and green drips from the carpet. (Chase painted his foot and then decided to take his dripping green paintbrush to the bathroom...) I'm not sure what bothered me more: cleaning up the mess, or the color thing. You see, Chase likes to mix the colors. He thinks the yucky brown caused by mixing purple and red and orange and yellow is great! He also does this with Play Doh. I'll put out 6 cans of beautiful, brand new colors, and within minutes it's all in one big mush. This drives me INSANE. I try really hard to "let go", but it's just not in me. You can't get those play doh colors apart, you know. They're like that for good. And the paint? How are you supposed to paint anything if all the colors are fucked up? (excuse the language)
So after a day of cleaning up cat vomit,gaining 2 pounds,running really slowly on the treadmill,trying to get the dog to do ANYTHING, finding out more about the PTA Board,picking up shoes for the 13th time, writing down songs on little scraps of paper so I can one day put them on my Ipod, watching at least 2 episodes of House Hunters, and having a painting session with my kids....
I'm ready for a DRINK!
Sunday, April 6, 2008
B-r-i-l-l-i-a-n-t
Yesterday, a really great friend of mine was commenting about this blog. She said something along the lines of "You're a really great writer - your blog is so funny!" Now, her opinion was more than likely tainted by the 5 or so Mango Margaritas we had been consuming, but still. Another friend told me that once too - that I should write a column or something.
That kinda cracks me up. When someone says "your blogs are so funny", I can't help but think "You have GOT to be kidding me!" This blog is like my random stream of consciousness - and sometime unconsciousness - that I just throw out there. Most times it is the result of not getting to talk to enough grown-ups. Many times it makes no sense at all. The run-on sentence is my friend! So I'm amazed that some people actually find this crap entertaining!
And then if someone says "You are such a good writer!", I can almost hear Dr. Terry Prewitt groan all the way from UWF. Dr Prewitt was my advisor at UWF. Dr. Prewitt is brilliant. This is for many reasons, but he is legendary amongst Anthroplogosts for somehow getting funding to study things like the "Culture of Strip Clubs" and the "Social and Linguistic Aspects of Pub Culture". (No - I am dead serious about that shit. The guy is b-r-i-l-l-i-a-n-t.) Anyway, in my two years or so under Dr. Prewitt's wing, I received possibly hundreds of papers back from him, all so covered with red ink that you would have thought he performed some sort of animal sacrifice on them. "Too passive." "Passive." "Passive, passive, passive!" he would write. Again. And again. (It should be noted that my other advisor and mentor, the esteemed Dr. Micklovich, also gave me his fair share of red ink, usually writing more of the same. Dr. Mick is also b-r-i-l-l-i-a-n-t, mainly for being the COOLEST history instructor in the world, and for having the cohones to head to the Middle East with a bunch of rowdy college kids. While there, he managed to drink more than we did, and get more action too. The man is a Legend, capital "L".)
So passive, passive, passive is my writing style. (Or, put another way, "I write passively." or "I write with a passive style.")I still go back and change my damned past-tenses to present tense, all because of those two. I seriously doubt that either of them would find me to be a "great writer", unless they thought my friend Tre was ghost writing for me. Tre was my partner in crime in Prewitt's 8:00 am Linguistics class. If I remember correctly, he carried my slack ass through that class by wowing Dr. P with a biblical translation done completely in Vulcan. True story.
So - if you think I'm funny and a great writer, then hold that thought. One day I'm going to self publish all this stuff, and I'm going to expect YOU to pre-order, and to buy one for all of your friends. (Or, put another way: "one day I will self publish, and I will expect you to pre-order...")
Now if only I could come up with a really GREAT idea for a book...something like, oh, I dunno, "Tequila! A Natural and Cultural History." (Sent to me yesterday by yet another Legend, my girl Della, aka Buwana.) See the crap that Anthropologists get to come up with? B-r-i-l-l-i-a-n-t.
That kinda cracks me up. When someone says "your blogs are so funny", I can't help but think "You have GOT to be kidding me!" This blog is like my random stream of consciousness - and sometime unconsciousness - that I just throw out there. Most times it is the result of not getting to talk to enough grown-ups. Many times it makes no sense at all. The run-on sentence is my friend! So I'm amazed that some people actually find this crap entertaining!
And then if someone says "You are such a good writer!", I can almost hear Dr. Terry Prewitt groan all the way from UWF. Dr Prewitt was my advisor at UWF. Dr. Prewitt is brilliant. This is for many reasons, but he is legendary amongst Anthroplogosts for somehow getting funding to study things like the "Culture of Strip Clubs" and the "Social and Linguistic Aspects of Pub Culture". (No - I am dead serious about that shit. The guy is b-r-i-l-l-i-a-n-t.) Anyway, in my two years or so under Dr. Prewitt's wing, I received possibly hundreds of papers back from him, all so covered with red ink that you would have thought he performed some sort of animal sacrifice on them. "Too passive." "Passive." "Passive, passive, passive!" he would write. Again. And again. (It should be noted that my other advisor and mentor, the esteemed Dr. Micklovich, also gave me his fair share of red ink, usually writing more of the same. Dr. Mick is also b-r-i-l-l-i-a-n-t, mainly for being the COOLEST history instructor in the world, and for having the cohones to head to the Middle East with a bunch of rowdy college kids. While there, he managed to drink more than we did, and get more action too. The man is a Legend, capital "L".)
So passive, passive, passive is my writing style. (Or, put another way, "I write passively." or "I write with a passive style.")I still go back and change my damned past-tenses to present tense, all because of those two. I seriously doubt that either of them would find me to be a "great writer", unless they thought my friend Tre was ghost writing for me. Tre was my partner in crime in Prewitt's 8:00 am Linguistics class. If I remember correctly, he carried my slack ass through that class by wowing Dr. P with a biblical translation done completely in Vulcan. True story.
So - if you think I'm funny and a great writer, then hold that thought. One day I'm going to self publish all this stuff, and I'm going to expect YOU to pre-order, and to buy one for all of your friends. (Or, put another way: "one day I will self publish, and I will expect you to pre-order...")
Now if only I could come up with a really GREAT idea for a book...something like, oh, I dunno, "Tequila! A Natural and Cultural History." (Sent to me yesterday by yet another Legend, my girl Della, aka Buwana.) See the crap that Anthropologists get to come up with? B-r-i-l-l-i-a-n-t.
Monday, March 31, 2008
Eventually
Eventually, I will post this wonderful blog all about nostalgia. (Since I'm coming up on a birthday, it's got me thinking...) But right now I'm swamped by Brownie stuff, and the first grade scrapbook. Which will, of course, be a work of art befitting display in one of the world's finest art museums...
But - in the meantime, here's a funny funny that was in the paper on Sunday. I just LOVE Danny Donkey. Hopefully you will too. (Click on the pic if it's too small to read the words...not a cruel joke, I swear...)
But - in the meantime, here's a funny funny that was in the paper on Sunday. I just LOVE Danny Donkey. Hopefully you will too. (Click on the pic if it's too small to read the words...not a cruel joke, I swear...)
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
I Am a Sucky Mom Compared to Kate
Last night I got the chance to catch up on my recorded episodes of "Jon and Kate Plus 8". (If you aren't familiar with this one, it's a show on TLC about a couple that has 7 year old twin girls, and sextuplets (yes - that's right - SIX kids) that are 3.) Anyway, in any given episode, I can be amazed and awed by how well this woman handles 8 kids under the age of 8. But then I watched the "Valentine's Day" episode.
In this episode, she starts the day by making home-made heart shaped pancakes for all 8 kids. OK - special occasion. I get it. Then, the kids come down, and she has special Valentine's place mats for each of them, special Valentine's goody pouches on each of their chairs, and they all are wearing cute matching Valentine's Day shirts. OK - at this point I'm thinking "gee - all I did was buy my kids some little heart boxes with chocolate in them." Chocolate that I eventually ate, no less...
Then - after the 2 older girls head out to school, Kate makes the little kids homemade edible playdoh. Edible freakin playdoh. COME ON! Then - during the day, she manages to write up little scavenger hunt clues, hide them all over the house, and when the older girls get home from school, they do Valentine's Day Scavenger Hunt. At the end is a giant wrapped box full of more Valentine's Day goodies. AND she bought and wrapped a gift for her husband too. Oh - and got them cute Valentine's Day shirts. Too.
I get Family Fun magazine. I see where you CAN make your own playdoh (some edible, some not.) But why on Earth would anyone do that when you can BUY perfectly good, cheap Playdoh at the store? I saw 5 little tins of the stuff for a dollar at Michael's just today!
I am soooooooooooo suspicious, now. Where did she find the time to make up clues, write them on cutesy pink and red pieces of paper, hide them, AND get a big goody box at the end? OBVIOUSLY the camera crew helps. All this, and her kids were all clean, and her house was in reasonable shape. No way - not possible.
Here's how MY day went today, and it's not even Valentine's Day: Get up. Get kid #1 up. Make coffee. Make Kid #1 oatmeal and milk. Pack kid #1's lunch while she eats. Go upstairs to get kid #1 dressed, teeth brushed, and school stuff ready. Bart takes kid #1 to bus stop. Go into bathroom and wash face, brush teeth, and begin make-up. Try to get kid #2 up. Go back for more coffee. Go back to try to finish make-up and put on clothes. Try again to get kid #2 up. We are supposed to leave for school in 20 minutes. FINALLY get kid #2 up. Bart hustles him to get dressed while I pack dry cheerios, yogurt, and milk for the car ride. Load kid #2 into car with travelling breakfast, and remember I forgot to pack kid #2's lunch. Run back in and throw stuff in a lunch bag. (No homemade pancakes here, don't cha know...) Drive kid #2 to school - arrive 10 minutes late. Leave school, go to Michael's to get fusible webbing (supposed to make Karlin's d%*mned Brownie patches to stay on), and a floral ring to make a diaper wreath for an upcoming baby shower. While there, I realize that - "Hey! Easter is in 4 days, and I don't have anything for their baskets." So I spend 20 minutes cruising for cute crap to put in the baskets. Head home. Change clothes and do 1 hour and 15 minutes of strenuous yard work. (I actually enjoy this.) Then - special treat! - LUNCH AT A RESTAURANT WITH BART! Yipee! I suppose I could have spent this time making homemade somethings, but hell - a girl's gotta eat. Even when I shouldn't. But that's another story. Back to the day. Pick up kid #2 at school. Bring him home, leave him with Bart. Go to pick up kid #1 and her friend from school. Host kid #1's friend for play date. Try (unsuccessfully) to get kid #2 down for nap so he won't disturb husband working from home. Create worksheet for girl scout meeting. Drive kid #1 and her friend to the Girl Scout meeting (a bank tour). Kid #1 behaved HORRIBLY at the tour. Run by Target to pick up supplies for the yard work I didn't complete. Get home and vent to husband. Eat a quick dinner, then have "the talk" with the sassy, disrespectful kid #1. And now we're solidly into homework & bath time.
So when was I supposed to do the scavenger hunt? Or the homemade playdoh? Or the pancakes? And I only have TWO kids. AND my husband was working from home today, so I had some help.
I could have axed the lunch. And the yard work probably could have waited. But the baby shower is a week and a half is at MY house, and the yard needs serious help before real people see it. I am the co-Leader of the Brownie Troop, so I had to go there.
So I suck compared to Kate. Kate who looks pretty skinny after 8 kids, and manages to do all that cool stuff like make homemade edible playdoh. And scavenger hunts.
WANTED: Camera crew. Need not operate actual camera. Must only be able to hold down kids while I make homemade playdoh. Must also be able to write clues on and cut out cute little pieces of paper. And help make pancakes. Experience not necessary.
In this episode, she starts the day by making home-made heart shaped pancakes for all 8 kids. OK - special occasion. I get it. Then, the kids come down, and she has special Valentine's place mats for each of them, special Valentine's goody pouches on each of their chairs, and they all are wearing cute matching Valentine's Day shirts. OK - at this point I'm thinking "gee - all I did was buy my kids some little heart boxes with chocolate in them." Chocolate that I eventually ate, no less...
Then - after the 2 older girls head out to school, Kate makes the little kids homemade edible playdoh. Edible freakin playdoh. COME ON! Then - during the day, she manages to write up little scavenger hunt clues, hide them all over the house, and when the older girls get home from school, they do Valentine's Day Scavenger Hunt. At the end is a giant wrapped box full of more Valentine's Day goodies. AND she bought and wrapped a gift for her husband too. Oh - and got them cute Valentine's Day shirts. Too.
I get Family Fun magazine. I see where you CAN make your own playdoh (some edible, some not.) But why on Earth would anyone do that when you can BUY perfectly good, cheap Playdoh at the store? I saw 5 little tins of the stuff for a dollar at Michael's just today!
I am soooooooooooo suspicious, now. Where did she find the time to make up clues, write them on cutesy pink and red pieces of paper, hide them, AND get a big goody box at the end? OBVIOUSLY the camera crew helps. All this, and her kids were all clean, and her house was in reasonable shape. No way - not possible.
Here's how MY day went today, and it's not even Valentine's Day: Get up. Get kid #1 up. Make coffee. Make Kid #1 oatmeal and milk. Pack kid #1's lunch while she eats. Go upstairs to get kid #1 dressed, teeth brushed, and school stuff ready. Bart takes kid #1 to bus stop. Go into bathroom and wash face, brush teeth, and begin make-up. Try to get kid #2 up. Go back for more coffee. Go back to try to finish make-up and put on clothes. Try again to get kid #2 up. We are supposed to leave for school in 20 minutes. FINALLY get kid #2 up. Bart hustles him to get dressed while I pack dry cheerios, yogurt, and milk for the car ride. Load kid #2 into car with travelling breakfast, and remember I forgot to pack kid #2's lunch. Run back in and throw stuff in a lunch bag. (No homemade pancakes here, don't cha know...) Drive kid #2 to school - arrive 10 minutes late. Leave school, go to Michael's to get fusible webbing (supposed to make Karlin's d%*mned Brownie patches to stay on), and a floral ring to make a diaper wreath for an upcoming baby shower. While there, I realize that - "Hey! Easter is in 4 days, and I don't have anything for their baskets." So I spend 20 minutes cruising for cute crap to put in the baskets. Head home. Change clothes and do 1 hour and 15 minutes of strenuous yard work. (I actually enjoy this.) Then - special treat! - LUNCH AT A RESTAURANT WITH BART! Yipee! I suppose I could have spent this time making homemade somethings, but hell - a girl's gotta eat. Even when I shouldn't. But that's another story. Back to the day. Pick up kid #2 at school. Bring him home, leave him with Bart. Go to pick up kid #1 and her friend from school. Host kid #1's friend for play date. Try (unsuccessfully) to get kid #2 down for nap so he won't disturb husband working from home. Create worksheet for girl scout meeting. Drive kid #1 and her friend to the Girl Scout meeting (a bank tour). Kid #1 behaved HORRIBLY at the tour. Run by Target to pick up supplies for the yard work I didn't complete. Get home and vent to husband. Eat a quick dinner, then have "the talk" with the sassy, disrespectful kid #1. And now we're solidly into homework & bath time.
So when was I supposed to do the scavenger hunt? Or the homemade playdoh? Or the pancakes? And I only have TWO kids. AND my husband was working from home today, so I had some help.
I could have axed the lunch. And the yard work probably could have waited. But the baby shower is a week and a half is at MY house, and the yard needs serious help before real people see it. I am the co-Leader of the Brownie Troop, so I had to go there.
So I suck compared to Kate. Kate who looks pretty skinny after 8 kids, and manages to do all that cool stuff like make homemade edible playdoh. And scavenger hunts.
WANTED: Camera crew. Need not operate actual camera. Must only be able to hold down kids while I make homemade playdoh. Must also be able to write clues on and cut out cute little pieces of paper. And help make pancakes. Experience not necessary.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Personal Responsibility
Oh. My. God. This is the kind of crap that makes me want to move to Barbuda, I swear.
Yesterday, I actually stole a few minutes away to watch "Good Morning America." They did a feature about a woman - a laywer - who used to be extremely sucessful - large income, big clients, etc. She started taking weekend trips to Las Vegas with friends, and got into gambling. The weekend trips turned into week-long trips. And then multi-week trips. In the end, she was literally sitting at the tables for DAYS at a time, with no sleep and no meals. She was brushing her teeth with baby wipes, and the poor waitresses were so worried about her that they were bringing her fruit juice and crackers so that she wouldn't collapse at the table. Needless to say, this woman, who is clearly addicted to gambling, lost everything and then some.
So how does she begin to pick up the pieces of her life? Does she attend Gambler's Anonymous? Maybe. Does she stop going to Vegas? Yes. But what is her REAL PLAN for getting a leg back up?
SHE'S SUING THE CASINOS. Yes, that's right folks. Apparently the casinos - whose whole purpose for existence is to provide entertainment to people while making money - these casinos LET HER GAMBLE!!! They LET HER LOSE ALL OF HER MONEY!!! How dare they?
Someone correct me if I am out of line here, but to my knowledge no one at the casino put a gun to her head and made her sit at those tables. No one pushed her hand into her pocket for the ATM card to get more money. No one went onto the computer for her and booked her airline tickets to sin city. Yes, she has an addiction. But is that the casino's fault? No, no, no. Millions of people gamble for fun and entertainment every week in Veags without serious problems.
But this chick refuses to take PERSONAL RESPONSIBILITY for her own actions. Instead, she wants someonw else (the casinos) to be to blame for her own illness, lack of discipline, and poor decision making.
And really, isn't this at the root of many of the probelms we're having in America today? Nothing is anyone's fault - someone else is ALWAYS to blame. How DARE McDonald's serve hot coffee that is actually hot? It's obvioulsy THEIR fault that dumbass spills it on himself and gets burned. And all the fast food places...they obviously strive to make people fat on purpose. It's THEIR fault that Bubba eats Whoppers 7 days a week, and supersizes even his ketchup packets.
You know what? I am not a supermodel. (Gasp - I know. Try to contain your shock and disappointment...) I weigh more than I ideally should. Do you know why? Because I CHOSE to have pizza for dinner last night. Because I CHOOSE to exercise only 3-4 times a week, instead of 5-6. Because I CHOOSE to eat bread and drink beer. Is it Budweiser's fault that I am flabby? Absolutely not. It's MY FAULT. I make these choices, and I live with the consequences of these choices.
My mom made me learn this lesson very, very young. When I was about 5, I stole a piece of candy from the little candy store up the street from my house. The store was owned by a sweet little old man, who later turned most of the store into an arcade. When my mom discovered what I did, she marched me back to the store. Then I - crying hysterically - had to explain EXACTLY what I did, and then apologize. (Kids always cry when they are guilty. Actually, lots of adults do too.) Little old candy man of course crumpled at the site of my tears, and told me it was OK - I could keep the candy. But of course my evil mother intervened, and it was not to be. Another incident happened on the school bus. I think I was throwing paper or something - I don't remember. But I got in trouble. My mom (who was the school secretary) marched me into Mr. Massey's office. (Mr. Massey was the dreaded elementary school principal. It was rumored that he had this larger-than-life paddle with holes drilled into it. The holes made it hurt more when you got paddled. Oh - the fabulous days of corporal punishment. The funny thing is, I don't think anyone ever actually GOT paddled. It was the FEAR of the paddling that made the difference. But I digress...) Anyway, I had to march into Mr. Massey's office - again, bawling - and tell him exactly what I did and apologize. Now Mr. Massey, after years of being exposed to guilty crocodile tears, was immune to them. He gave me a stern warning and the "disappointed in you" speech. I am pretty sure I never got in any serious trouble again until high school.
So it all goes full circle. Today, Brenda's mommy won'accept that little Brenda could possibly do anything wrong. When little Brenda is busted throwing paperballs on the bus, Brenda's mommy marches into the principal's office and demands to know why HER little angel is accused of such a heinous offense. OBVIOUSLY is was little Jimmy's fault - he started it. And that bus driver - she's always hated litle Brenda since day one. And where does the Principal find these employees, anyway? The bus is FULL of hoodlums whose parents don't properly discipline them, and all of that bad influence is rubbing off on little Brenda. If little Brenda isn't excused from all of these trumped-up charges, Brenda's mommy is going to write letters to the Governor and every newspaper in the area, pointing out the Principal's gross incompetence. Then Brenda's mommy is going to go to the School Board and demand an apology to little Brenda. In 99% of the cases, the School Board will actually make the Principal apologize to Brenda and her mommy. Then 25 years later, Brenda is suing the casinos because she was stupid and lost all her money at Blackjack.
Beautiful.
All I can hope is that some judge gets the case and tosses the woman out on her blackjack-table-seat-flattened ass. But I wouldn't bet on it...
Yesterday, I actually stole a few minutes away to watch "Good Morning America." They did a feature about a woman - a laywer - who used to be extremely sucessful - large income, big clients, etc. She started taking weekend trips to Las Vegas with friends, and got into gambling. The weekend trips turned into week-long trips. And then multi-week trips. In the end, she was literally sitting at the tables for DAYS at a time, with no sleep and no meals. She was brushing her teeth with baby wipes, and the poor waitresses were so worried about her that they were bringing her fruit juice and crackers so that she wouldn't collapse at the table. Needless to say, this woman, who is clearly addicted to gambling, lost everything and then some.
So how does she begin to pick up the pieces of her life? Does she attend Gambler's Anonymous? Maybe. Does she stop going to Vegas? Yes. But what is her REAL PLAN for getting a leg back up?
SHE'S SUING THE CASINOS. Yes, that's right folks. Apparently the casinos - whose whole purpose for existence is to provide entertainment to people while making money - these casinos LET HER GAMBLE!!! They LET HER LOSE ALL OF HER MONEY!!! How dare they?
Someone correct me if I am out of line here, but to my knowledge no one at the casino put a gun to her head and made her sit at those tables. No one pushed her hand into her pocket for the ATM card to get more money. No one went onto the computer for her and booked her airline tickets to sin city. Yes, she has an addiction. But is that the casino's fault? No, no, no. Millions of people gamble for fun and entertainment every week in Veags without serious problems.
But this chick refuses to take PERSONAL RESPONSIBILITY for her own actions. Instead, she wants someonw else (the casinos) to be to blame for her own illness, lack of discipline, and poor decision making.
And really, isn't this at the root of many of the probelms we're having in America today? Nothing is anyone's fault - someone else is ALWAYS to blame. How DARE McDonald's serve hot coffee that is actually hot? It's obvioulsy THEIR fault that dumbass spills it on himself and gets burned. And all the fast food places...they obviously strive to make people fat on purpose. It's THEIR fault that Bubba eats Whoppers 7 days a week, and supersizes even his ketchup packets.
You know what? I am not a supermodel. (Gasp - I know. Try to contain your shock and disappointment...) I weigh more than I ideally should. Do you know why? Because I CHOSE to have pizza for dinner last night. Because I CHOOSE to exercise only 3-4 times a week, instead of 5-6. Because I CHOOSE to eat bread and drink beer. Is it Budweiser's fault that I am flabby? Absolutely not. It's MY FAULT. I make these choices, and I live with the consequences of these choices.
My mom made me learn this lesson very, very young. When I was about 5, I stole a piece of candy from the little candy store up the street from my house. The store was owned by a sweet little old man, who later turned most of the store into an arcade. When my mom discovered what I did, she marched me back to the store. Then I - crying hysterically - had to explain EXACTLY what I did, and then apologize. (Kids always cry when they are guilty. Actually, lots of adults do too.) Little old candy man of course crumpled at the site of my tears, and told me it was OK - I could keep the candy. But of course my evil mother intervened, and it was not to be. Another incident happened on the school bus. I think I was throwing paper or something - I don't remember. But I got in trouble. My mom (who was the school secretary) marched me into Mr. Massey's office. (Mr. Massey was the dreaded elementary school principal. It was rumored that he had this larger-than-life paddle with holes drilled into it. The holes made it hurt more when you got paddled. Oh - the fabulous days of corporal punishment. The funny thing is, I don't think anyone ever actually GOT paddled. It was the FEAR of the paddling that made the difference. But I digress...) Anyway, I had to march into Mr. Massey's office - again, bawling - and tell him exactly what I did and apologize. Now Mr. Massey, after years of being exposed to guilty crocodile tears, was immune to them. He gave me a stern warning and the "disappointed in you" speech. I am pretty sure I never got in any serious trouble again until high school.
So it all goes full circle. Today, Brenda's mommy won'accept that little Brenda could possibly do anything wrong. When little Brenda is busted throwing paperballs on the bus, Brenda's mommy marches into the principal's office and demands to know why HER little angel is accused of such a heinous offense. OBVIOUSLY is was little Jimmy's fault - he started it. And that bus driver - she's always hated litle Brenda since day one. And where does the Principal find these employees, anyway? The bus is FULL of hoodlums whose parents don't properly discipline them, and all of that bad influence is rubbing off on little Brenda. If little Brenda isn't excused from all of these trumped-up charges, Brenda's mommy is going to write letters to the Governor and every newspaper in the area, pointing out the Principal's gross incompetence. Then Brenda's mommy is going to go to the School Board and demand an apology to little Brenda. In 99% of the cases, the School Board will actually make the Principal apologize to Brenda and her mommy. Then 25 years later, Brenda is suing the casinos because she was stupid and lost all her money at Blackjack.
Beautiful.
All I can hope is that some judge gets the case and tosses the woman out on her blackjack-table-seat-flattened ass. But I wouldn't bet on it...
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