Ready or not

So this is what Real Americans do on Black Friday

2009-11-27T13:11:00.001-08:00

As our Thanksgiving feast of Obscene Quantity and Also Very Much Lots of Heaping Stuffing was wrapping up last night I overheard my cousins and sister planning out the early morning Black Friday plan of attack. I rubbed my belly and was emphatic in my decision to not leave my bed and join The Crazy this morning. Did I mention that I am a liar?

My sister started texting me from the Target line about 6 a.m. Ruby crawled into bed with us at 6:10 a.m. She has very bad breath. I had to get out of there. I was in the car by 6:12 a.m. and headed to my local Fred Meyer store where, surprisingly, I was one of 6 shoppers. I gulped down the free coffee at the door to chase three mini donuts, and bravely rolled the cart toward the toy aisle with powdered sugar on my chin. Like any Real American, I suppose, I loaded that Goddamn cart till it begged for mercy. I went down my mental list of every person I know and threw shit in the cart. I was in such a frenzy I almost started shouting "YOU get a bike and YOU get a bike! EVERYBODY GETS A MOTHERFUCKING BIKE!" But, alas, I could not speak because my mouth was full of more dry donuts.

I suppose I didn't spend as much as many people, considering it was under $350 for everyone on my list (Note to people on my list: Don't get to excited.). I topped off my trip with some better coffee, picked some up for Davey and made myself a hero.

I deserve a nap.

The one where I have not snapped out of it yet part 347

2009-11-24T15:25:00.001-08:00

Greetings! While I am certainly pleased that you are continuing to read Ye Old Blog of Doom and Despair, I am still a bit confused as to why. Very well then, without further ado, I bring you the latest tale of woe:

Last week I went somewhere I never in this life thought I would end up and although the possibility of such a visit was always tucked away in my Worst Things That Could Possibly Happen Ever file, it was still a shock. Last week my sister and I had to accompany our mother to an Oncology appointment. Where we were told she has cancer. Specifically, Lymphoma. Mom has been sick for awhile now. It started last spring when she became so tired that her stamina was entirely gone. Then the stomach pain started. She couldn't keep food down and had terrible pain. This was promptly followed by random fevers. She kept insisting that she was just upset because of her semi-retirement and selling her house. "If I can just......." fill in the blank "I'll be fine." She started losing weight. Quickly. When her move was complete and she continued to have these symptoms I finally made the appointment for her myself. That was three weeks ago. Her doctor sprung into action and it has been a whirlwind of tests, scans and The Waiting. There are only a few more things for her to endure (Two Words: Bone Marrow) and we will know how bad this thing is. We were told to expect chemo soon.

We are hopeful. She is hopeful. My mom has cancer and she is going to make it.

Chaotic

2009-11-10T14:39:00.000-08:00

Somehow I thought that as the girls got older and we got some more experience with this whole Responsible Parenting gig that things would run smoother. I was, to my chagrin, wrong. The past few months (year?) has been fraught with the best and worst life has to offer.

I had a fantastical weekend of debauchery with two of my besties and that was good. Then there was The Flu (possibly The Oinks, but am trying not to go there). We recovered! And relapsed. I landed my dream job! For some reason I discovered that in exchange for shiny dollars, I actually have to, you know, work. So there is some schedule re-configuring to be done, but I am not really complaining.

Now that Goldie is four as in "Mom, now that I'm FOUR! I really think that I should, you know do grown up stuff, like have a baby." OMFG, deep breath. Ahem. Anyway, Goldie is showing signs of actual lucidity when she is delightful and fabulous and helpful and I just look at her wondering if the past few years had as many not-delightful moments as I seem to remember. Then I watch Ruby pee herself on purpose and that totally jogs my memory.

Church continues to dominate most of my free time. And when I say free time, I mean, the time that I really do not have but create out of fumes and sheer force of my will because it is that important.

In other news, extended family dificulties abound that I can't really talk about right now. Suffice it to say that life has handed me a foot long shit sandwich on rye and even though I am trying to stay positive, I am not quite ready to make Shit SandwichAde yet.

Will add that to the list.

An open letter to 31 and 5

2009-10-08T14:16:00.000-07:00

Dear 31,

This morning I opened my eyes to find you watching me. The experience was decidedly different than last year when 30 snuck up behind me, covered my eyes and scared the bejesus out of me because, really? Who really knows what 30 might have up her sleeve. As much trepidation that came before the time 30 actually showed up, she made a lot of positive changes around here.

The past year has forced me to face the best and worst experiences life has thrown me. While those details don't matter, the results do. 31 finds me a humbler, kinder, more content person. I consume less and create more. I use less energy from the grid in favor of elbow grease. I am learning to release the fear and embrace opportunity. Sometimes it is easier than others.

29 was sort of a blur of anxiety and insecurity, but 30 brought with her many of the pieces to the puzzle I had been missing. 30 brought a sense of completeness. I discovered a confidence that had been missing and with it optimism and hope. I remember being told as a young woman that just because one is legally an adult at 18 or 21, it takes another decade or so to truly be a grown up. I get that now.

Today I am 31 years old. There is nothing I would rather be.

Welcome.

Dear 5,

I'll keep this short because if I think about it too much I will get upset and then I won't be hungry for cake and ruin my party. However, I want to aknowledge the unfairness that I feel whenever I let my mind wander back to 5 years ago today. I'm not sure why you had to die on my birthday, Dad. I'm not sure why your healthy body suddenly gave out without any warning at only 58 years old. I still can't wrap my head around the fact that you never met my children or my husband and can't accept the reality that I can't dial you up and fill you in on the latest.

I don't have the burden of wondering how we could learn to understand each other and not be so chronically disappointed in one another. 5 years, one marriage and two children have taught me a lot. I learned that as much as you infuriated and confused me, the deeper I look inside myself, the more of you I find. You weren't a bad guy, Dad. You were just a man trying to do the best he knew how and I know you gave us all you had to give. 5 years ago I watched the doctors take you off life support and will never forget looking at your tanned, muscular arms thinking about how the day before you were working in the fall sun.

5 years ago I lost my dad. And it sucks.

Bah.

2009-09-27T20:40:00.001-07:00

I wrote a whole post that I really liked. Then I managed to delete it through the Great Cut And Paste Debacle of 2009. So. Frustrating.

So. How about some pictures? The girls have been enjoying walks together in the neighborhood. As much time as they spend bickering and screaming, these are the times that I remember why, pray tell, we did this:

This one is a few months old, but I love it. The child who AM NO TIRED! was, in fact, quite tired. So tired, was this child, that she managed to sleep through an entire meal at Chevy's. Why did we go to Chevy's? Because I had a coupon. The end.

Pinch Me

2009-08-19T22:22:00.000-07:00

Big! Things! have been happening here at Chez Davey these days. Unfortunately, none of the aforementioned Big! Things! will be of interest to you and include boring details that I am totally going to tell you anyway:

It took three years and copious amounts of liquor, a trip to Atlanta, the alienation of my family and friends and becoming an absentee parent, but my job as Chair of the Search Committee for a pastor of my church has finally come to an end! I am pleased to say that it was all worth it because after a decade long battle to become a truly inclusive congregation, we found the most amazing person to lead us, who happens to be gay. And there was nary a vote in opposition. I'm still a little teary-eyed.
I can't give out the deets, but lets just say that the dream job I have been, you know, dreaming of? The one I can do what I love? at home? on staff? No set schedule? Perhaps becoming reality.

If only the zit goatee would disappear and cake could somehow become resistible (CAKE!), life would be perfect. Even so, I'm not complaining.

Belle

2009-08-04T15:59:00.001-07:00

A quick update for y'all, and I am saying ya'll because I am in Atlanta and I am always looking for reasonable excuses to say ya'll without seeming ridiculous. Perhaps I have been unsuccessful in that endeavor. Ahem. Anyway. Yeah. I'm in Georgia and despite my earlier delusions, there is nary a peach to be found and I seriously bought an apple from Washington yesterday and my head started spinning as I calculated the food miles it took to send a Washington apple to Georgia plus flying me here to get it. I don't think the people here know about food miles. I am such an Oregonian. Also, no one has invited me to that courtillian I had so been looking forward to.

Other than that, I am having a fantastical time with inspiring friends and drinking wine whenever possible.

It's hot. I smell. I am having an amazing time.

The not as much of an elephant in the room

2009-07-27T14:57:00.000-07:00

I am a chronic oversharer. Obviously. This blog is a place I can talk about most anything on my mind, but certain topics have been off-limits because, well, you're not the boss of me. So there. I have avoided talking about my weight because seriously? It makes me uncomfortable. However, a lot of people ask me how I have lost the weight, and I am no stranger to discomfort.

First, the stats (which face it, is really all you want to know anyway): I have lost 85lbs in about a year and a half. My goal was to lose 50lbs, so I guess that makes me an overachiever.

I had two kids in less than two years. I got fat. I wanted to punch every doctor, author and other persons who breathed air, directly in the face when they told me that breastfeeding would help me to lose weight. Do you want to know why? IT DIDN'T HELP ME LOSE WEIGHT! In fact, I gained weight while breastfeeding. From the moment I gave birth until the moment I stopped breastfeeding, I was starving. Ravenous. And lets face it, brownies taste good. The experience was horrifying. Looking terrible was the least of my worries. I couldn't do the stuff I wanted to do. I couldn't keep my children out of harms way. Everything was hard. It was no way to live.

I don't have any shocking weight loss secrets, and I certainly don't have all the answers. There wasn't any one thing that has helped, rather, it has been a million tiny things that have added up to great results. Don't get too excited, you can find any of these tips in every women's magazine ever written.

How I did it:

The mental component: I stopped hating myself. I stopped feeling guilty about overeating. I realized that just because I ate too much on vacation last week doesn't mean that I should overeat every day for the next two weeks. Somewhere I read something that likened this logic to "just because I didn't brush my teeth before bed last night, should I give up and not brush them in the morning?" Yeah, it makes no sense to me either.
The task of losing weight was so overwhelming and I didn't know where to start. I approached it like I would any other skill wanted to learn and I researched it. Not so much by reading books, but by watching people who were not fat. What did they do? I found that thin people didn't approach food with emotion or guilt. "I ate too much yesterday. I won't eat so much today." Duh.
I stopped drinking soda several times a day. I drink one or two a week.
I eat food that I cook myself. I eat whole foods. Virtually no fast food. We stopped eating out all the time. I don't buy many packaged foods. For example: instead of canned chili, I make my own.
I try to eliminate high fructose corn syrup, msg, hydrogenated oils, enriched flours and most processed food. They make me hungry. Instead of cheerios, I eat oatmeal. I know what's in it.
I try to watch what I eat 85% of the time and then I can eat what I want the rest of the time.
I don't drink unless I am going out with friends or at a party.
Do you know what it feels like to be full? to be hungry? I had no idea. I learned some about Intuitive Eating. The idea is to eat when you are hungry, stop when you are full. Eat what you want or you will end up overeating. Deprivation leads to binging. This is hard, really hard. But very effective.
I eat on small plates, measure food and share with others. Instead of ordering one meal for myself and one for the girls and eat mine plus their leftovers, I order one for the three of us and am surprised that we often still have leftovers.
I eat slow. I put down the fork, chew and swallow every bite before loading up the fork again. It used to be that I would shovel it in as fast as I could so that I wouldn't get full before I ate all I wanted to. I was also a crazy person.
I don't finish my plate if I'm full. I throw it away.
I was satisfied to lose even 1/4 of a lb per week, I didn't want to obsess and try to get it off quick. I learned patience.
Notice how I haven't mentioned exercise? Because I can't seem to stick with regimented exercise. Instead of giving up completely, I just do a tiny bit more than I would normally. I park far away from the store. I make extra trips up and down the stairs. I run around with my kids.

See what I mean? boring boring boring. But it has worked. And I am glad. I know how easy it is to gain back and am just trying to take it one day at a time. Wish me luck.

I should totally get paid for this plug, but I'm not

2009-07-22T14:32:00.000-07:00

People who have been forced to sit through my long-ish rants about the evils of various corporate empires (Tip: Do not ask my opinion of High Fructose Corn Syrup if you have any pressing plans)and Comcast has been at the top of my list. I ditched the cable in favor of dish, but felt like Comcast had me by the balls for fast internet without a phone line.

Enter Clear Wimax. They are only here in Portland, Atlanta and Las Vegas. I was very skeptical and couldn't find much about them, but gave it a go because I was tempted by city wide wireless internet and home internet for less than I have been paying my Craptastic! provider.

I'm hooked. It's fast. It works. It's cheap. I can get online with my netbook all over town and wherever their network is. Will come in handy when I go to Atlanta in a couple weeks I suppose. Their sales staff is not the brightest, but neither is Comcast's.

You should try them too.

Vacation-ish

2009-07-12T17:06:00.000-07:00

Contrary to popular opinion, I have not fallen off the edge of this giant flat earth. Rather, the job of trying to keep us all alive and reasonably clean and healthy is taking up more energy than I have to give. I am going to give credit to this sudden increase in difficulty to the The Whining because, Mother Fuck, The Whining is threatening to kill us all. Slowly. There is also the fact that Ruby has Escaped From Crib Mountain one year ahead of schedule and also? The Whining.

This weekend I took the girls to a resort with my mom for a relaxing vacation. However, we underestimated the power of The Whining and so are making the best of the situation while trying not to Murder The Children WHO WILL NOT STOP WHINING. You see, they live miserable lives. All of the swimming, ice cream, playgrounds, arts and crafts, walks and chips are apparently SHEER TORTURE to children who have been cruelly denied their favorite activity of CONSTANT SCREAMING.

Mom and I are currently performing furious Craigslist searches looking for hot pokers to stick in our eyes. It really would be more humane.

Random bullets

2009-06-12T22:09:00.001-07:00

I am a monster. No really. When I ran out of discipline ideas last weekend after Goldie looked me in the eye and told me that "no, Mama, I am not going to" for the third time that day, I had a stroke of genius. I grabbed the polish remover and with the help of one excellent co-parent, removed shiny pink paint from 10 tiny fingers. Then I went to my room and cried. But you know what? She was much more agreeable the rest of the week. Thank God she didn't touch the wire hangers.
If you ever feel like you need a dose of despair, then I urge you to consider going shopping at Winco on a Friday night. Hoo-boy, thems some sad folks. I got lucky (lucky? really?) and scored a kid free shopping trip that coincided with the exact moment that the saddest people in my city decided to buy groceries. Times is hard, people, times is hard. I did manage to score some excellent steel cut oats and chiles de agua for my big cooking tomorrow so, theres that.
Ruby has either Hand Foot and Mouth or Toddler Asshole Disease. Symptoms include: not eating, not sleeping, fever and Acting Like a Total Asshole. I would feel a lot sorrier for her if she weren't being such a, you know, asshole.
I am discovering that line drying all of our clothes is much easier when it is not pouring down rain.

The llama (not the mama)

2009-06-08T21:01:00.001-07:00

I always know that it is time to update when I get requests from my Facebook peeps (I am looking at you Katy). The past few weeks have been a lot of fun because I have dared leave the house. With my children. To do Activities That Actual Children Might Enjoy, instead of the chronically unpopular Mama, You Aren't Seriously Taking Us To Buy Pull-Ups Again, Are You? We went to the Jr. Rose Festival Parade. It was hot. We ate Mcnuggets of dubious nutritional content and Ruby drank 32 oz of iced tea followed by two days of Not Sleeping. Overall? It was an awesome day. Friends, music, clowns, people on stilts ("Mama, why is she SO TALL?") and it was one of the few times I can recall an event turning out to be as fun in reality as my expectations.

Then there was The Llama. Ruby was so excited at the prospect of seeing an actual llama that she had to go for it. And then I rescued her because that is, you know, kind of my job.

Things I Learned This Weekend

2009-06-01T13:52:00.000-07:00

This past weekend was the official Girl Weekend 2009 . To ensure that I never waste a learning opportunity, I have compiled a list of lessons that were gleaned from the experience:

I will always position myself in the center of the photo. Just try to get around me. I dare you.

Carrie looks good no matter what she is wearing. The slow progression she made from Fancy Dress to Fancy Dress with Slippers to The Full College Dorm, was made seamlessly. She should look to new career in fashion. (Note to Carrie: My ex-boyfriend from 1997 would like his sweatshirt back, assuming the elastic has not become crunchy) (Note to self: Do not loan Carrie clothes.)

When properly motivated, I am able to create every underage aspiring alcoholic's dream: Sweet Sweet Booze That Does Not Taste Like Booze. Who knew that gallons of wine, orange juice, lemonade, vodka and a touch of blue curacao(for festive color!) could create such deliciousness (And nausea!) when combined in a cauldron. Bonus points for the bra hanging out of my shirt that was quickly spotted and named The Doubtfire. Am v. sexy.

I am more subject to deviant behavior in a group than I had previously believed. As a person who is extremely prone to nicotine addiction and has not smoked in years due to the desire to avoid repeating a particularly humiliating experience that involved bumming Bronco Lights off of homeless people. In a snowstorm. Hiding from my mother (and for those who must know, yes, a latex glove was involved and yes, I still smoke with the wrong fingers) Girl weekend is a different story. Cloves you say? Hmmm. Cloves are not cigarettes. Cloves are delicious! They remind me of college! (fine, high school. Fuck off.) I won't inhale! And you know what? I survived. Was great idea! Maybe I should try it again soon! Perhaps 20 or so times per day!

I am gassier than I thought.
We can certainly break it down to rap classics cerca 1992 like only priviledged white girls can.
We should really do this bi-annually
Sleeping until 11:00 a.m. after years of sleep deprivation is just as delicious as I had dreamed.

Girl Weekend by the numbers:

# of girls=8
Stories of high school involving mortal embarassement shared with group=867
Persons whose preferred mode of death involves hanging and bone fracture= one
Crossaints I normally consume in one year= zero
Crossaints I consumed within 5 minutes of waking after a night with these girls=two
# of bottles of wine consumed by 8 women in 48 hours=9
Amount of fun spending time with these amazing women=infinity

Summary:

I love these girls. I loved this weekend. I love the fact that The Davey makes it so easy for me to go and have fun. I should never be allowed near a vat of dip unsupervised. Ditto for wheat thins.

Good times, my friends. Good times.

A nice way to spend a Sunday afternoon

2009-05-28T22:05:00.001-07:00

Roob and The Blur. My girls have no idea how lucky they are to have friends in college who not only are willing to hang out with them, but have extremely cool shades.

I am not sure why this is coming up so freakishly small, but finally there is photographic proof that I am actually raising this child.

Ahhh Goldie. This picture is truly a metaphor for our life together. Don't run too fast, Baby Girl, Mama can't keep up with you. But I don't want to miss a thing.

Ear infections, dreams and real estate

2009-05-23T15:30:00.000-07:00

I have counted 27 violations of the unpopular No Picky-Licky Ordinance since I began tracking five days ago.
The Asshole Ear Infection That is Ruining Our Lives continues to, you know, ruin our lives. We are sampling all that Big Pharm has to offer and are currently on #4. Extended Screaming Tantrums That Rattle Actual Bones have replaced the regularly scheduled Shorter Screaming Tantrums That Only Sort of Piss Me Off. In other news, Ruby would like me to mention that her ears? Kind of hurt.
I keep having dreams about the longtime friend who inexplicably (to me) dumped me right after I got married and I don't know what it means. If it didn't hurt so much to think about her, if I weren't so proud and stubborn, if I thought my heart could stand the rejection, if I didn't miss her so damned much, I would call to see if she is okay. So many years have passed and I still can't delete her number out of my phone. Not sure what that means either. Sigh.
While I stubbornly stand by my stance on never ever moving, I sort of wish our neighborhood had more safe places to ride bikes and less used condoms on the street. Also? Did you just see that hooker standing in front of my house? Halp.
Davey and I found precisely 13.4 seconds with which to snuggle this morning before someone small and urine soaked managed to wedge between us.
The people who live across the street have listed their house for 20% more than any house in the area. The house is roughly 20% less appealing than their peers. This has solved the mystery as to why the owners wear sweats so frequently as jeans would not readily accommodate balls of that size.
I should be nicer about the large-sacked neighbors because as part of their marketing strategy, their Realtor forced them to part with the Toddler Fantasyland of Little Tykes equipment that littered their front yard. In this neighborhood, the etiquette for disposal of anything you don't want is to place the item on the street in front of your house (See: No Sidewalks in This GodForsaken Place) and hope that it disappears (usually in under a minute). My friend next door and I waited patiently the morning of The Toy Purge and furiously texted each other when a desired object was set out so we could swap child care and help carry larger items across the street.I am the proud new owner of a slightly used Turtle Sand Box. With a lid!
If you see a bike appropriate for a four year old girl left out in someones yard, please do me a favor and move it just a little closer to the street and give me a call (or text!)

Another Love Letter to my Husband

2009-05-19T14:19:00.000-07:00

Davey my Davey,

This one has been a long time coming and I don't know where to start. I am hoping if I just put fingers to keyboard, words will come out and form sentences and magically at the end of it all you will know all of the things sitting on the tip of my tongue that go unsaid. Right now in so many ways it feels like our world has fallen apart around us. But here we are. Everything is so Goddamn hard. But we don't argue. What surprises me about our life is not that there are struggles, rather I continue to marvel at the miracle I live every day to have found you to struggle alongside me. My perfect match. Your willingness to let me be who I am and do what I must without blame or guilt or anger, continues to amaze me. Home is a safe place. Home is where you are.

This season of life feels so bittersweet. The realization of our dream to be the parents our girls need us to be and do the work that needs to be done to satisfy our ambition and conscience comes at a price. When I look back on the past 4.5 years and recount all that we have done, blessings we have received, crisis' we have been through, all we have built and torn down again, there is no wonder why we both feel like we have been hit by a truck at the end of every day. At night when the girls are finally asleep and we look at each other wearily absorbing the first quiet moment together of the day. I loathe this moment because I know that one way or another, someone is going to be disappointed. One of us has to work. The other one is tired. The phone rings. Your show is on. The kids start crying. I don't feel good. We are spent. There is nothing left to give. I am smiling as I type this because you and I both know that others who read this will think I am making some veiled reference to sex. Ha! I'm sure that would be great, but at this point, finding a moment to really listen to the other without distractions and talk about our day would probably be more satisfying.

I still haven't found the words that I was hoping for, and so I will try one more time. Thank you. Thank you for loving me unconditionally when I am decidedly unlovable and selfish and have left you to contend with the chaos I inevitably leave in my wake. Thank you for your steadfast belief that we are going to be together and in love and okay without exception. You matter. You matter to me even when I am inconsiderate. I am desperate for you even when I am being distant. You are the reason for everything......

And I adore you.

First time on the big girl swing

2009-05-10T17:53:00.001-07:00

And a few hours before we sprayed her with Mullet Be Gone. You will be pleased to know that a sweet-ish child can now be found in her crib in place of a tiny Billy Ray Cyrus impersonator.

We are relieved as well.

A Day For Digging

2009-05-10T17:50:00.001-07:00

It Worked

2009-05-09T14:52:00.001-07:00

As part of our family's Mother's Day Weekend celebration my sister and her husband went to Mom's to perform copious amounts of yard work and because they are fully aware of my lack of willingness to perform domestic chores I have been relegated to babysit for our combined broods that now number 5 children.

Sitting here smugly with my face buried in a giant trough of Goldfish crackers as my sister buys snacks that actual children will eat in contrast to the soy nuts and carrots I make my kids choke down, I feel pretty good. I arrived at 8:00 a.m. and immediately proceeded with Operation Wear Their Tiny Butts Out. We walked. We played. We dug in the sand and rode bikes. I showed them no mercy and got them, FIVE OF THEM, to nap at 1:00.

They are stirring now so I better shove in these crackers or I'm going to have to share.

Church Weekend Survival Guide

2009-05-03T21:20:00.000-07:00

As most of you know, I don't get out much anymore. But wait! There's hope! This past weekend I discovered a secret that my mother never shared with me and now I will pass it on to you: The out of town all weekend church meeting! Like camp without the bugs or wood cookies! This is decidedly brilliant because not only will your husband not want to come, but will be forced to stay home with the kids because, really? What type of person would deny you a weekend of service to your church. In return for your cleverness, if you choose your travel partners wisely and also belong to a denomination who likes to serve Jesus with a side of debauchery, you will surely have a good time.

Church Weekend Survival Guide

1. Spring for the hotel. (this is perhaps the only rule I followed) Under no circumstance should you accept the invitation to do the Stay in Random Old People's Houses. Think denture cups and weird smells. No wifi. High probability of encountering yappy dog with painted nails. Do feel free to pilfer homemade brownies wrapped in napkins that you can shove in your purse for later that the old ladys will bring to meetings. Old ladys don't skimp on butter.

2. Do not feel compelled to drink the whole effing bottle of wine followed by more wine. Resist consuming entire block of cheese chased with full pound of salami. This will be regretable.

3. If you do drink the whole effing bottle of wine, have the decency to shut your wine hole and pass out like a reasonable church lady instead of further humiliating yourself by over sharing SUPREMELY INAPPROPRIATE information with your co-travelers. Oh God. (Note to self: avoid future eye contact and seek new church.) Oh God.

4. Do not include the word Fuck repeatedly in your conversations with other church members or in exclamation at The Fucking Coffeepot that you are still too Fucking drunk to operate at 7 in the Fucking a.m. after drinking The Whole Fucking Bottle of Effing Wine, or respectable people may become suspicious that you include this word on a regular basis in your home. Fuck me.

5. Bring distractions for the actual planned events. Pass notes. Take walks. Disturb your neighbors. Bring laptop for some Free Cell. Pay attention to exactly one activity because someone will surely ask you to drag your sorry ass in front of your congregation to tell what you learned. Hopefully the hangover will have passed by this time. I was not this lucky.

6. This may be the most important advice of all: Shut up. Seriously. We all know you don't get out much. Please do not make this point exagerated by way speaking so profusely that you have actual froth coming out of your mouth. See Also: Do not overshare SUPREMELY INAPPROPRIATE information with people you would like to make eye contact with in the future.

Fuckity fuck.

Hmmm

2009-05-03T21:09:00.000-07:00

I am beginning to wonder if my children are going to turn out weird because of their mother's refusal to listen to any type of music that is either:

a. reasonably cool
b. remotely recent
c. not found under the labels of: folk, 70's, Regrettable Mid 90's, or Eccentric Soccer Mom's Who Listen to Weird Shit.

The Davey is no better and I remember how furious he was when I made fun of him for exposing her to Klezmer music before she was two. Yeah. We are weird.

So far Goldie's favorite songs are my favorite songs from my childhood that I listened to on last generation 45's on my Mickey Mouse record player. Those songs include children's classics like Juice Newton's Queen of Hearts, The Gambler, and anything and everything James Taylor or Bob Seger.

Maybe it is time to branch out as it is sort of starting to freak me out to watch the girls work on their Night Moves on the way to preschool.

The day I ran out of dopamine

2009-04-28T21:21:00.000-07:00

When I got The Tonsils Formerly Known as Those Hangy Things Making Me Sick removed, I figured that planning a two week recovery was actually excessive. Sure, it hurt, but I am a woman on a schedule.

And that is how I managed to improperly wean myself off of pain medication, restart my life at full speed (What? It was right there on the calendar: Back to normal on Monday) and landed up hiding under a blanket crying because I could not physically care for myself or my children after alienating all of the people who love me.

A few days and some proper nutrition, exercise and Omega 3's along with some lowering of my expectations of myself seem to have worked their magic. I'm back! Now with 100% less tonsils!

All in a days work.

2009-04-21T14:51:00.000-07:00

When the sun shines in Oregon in April, it is a special kind of gift. For those that live in warm climates, I offer you, with no ill will, The Finger. We Oregonians wait for nearly as long as it takes to grow a fully formed HUMAN for the opportunity to walk outside and not get soaked.

So. It's sunny! And I decided to save the earth by purchasing a clothes line. Am wonderful mother and role model to dozens! I have learned many lessons about the use of clothes lines. The first being not to hang giant jeans on a line that is not well secured or your carefully tended clothes will have to be rewashed thus canceling out any energy savings you might have incurred.

On another note, I had my post-op appointment today and the doc regaled me with tales of how disgusting my tonsils were and that the reason I am still in pain is that there was "considerable scar tissue" from years of a deep bacterial infection and the dissection to remove said Sponges of Bacteria was "quite complete." I am also ready to report a fabulous side effect of losing the tonsils: The bad breath and taste in my mouth from the past 3 years? IS GONE! I am no longer flossing in vain! Pucker up Davey, Mama's back. But, unfortunately, Mama is now too tired.

Try again next week.

Ants and Brats.

2009-04-19T21:28:00.000-07:00

I know that spring has sprung because of the somewhat expected and subsequently dreaded arrival of The Mother Effing Sugar Ant Brigade. They are providing an endless source of excitement for my children who are still young enough to think that this is "exciting" rather than "revolting," which is alright but by my calculations, their lack of disgust raises the probability of someone shouting "Hey Random Stranger! My Mom's desk is so covered with ants it looks like its moving!" exponentially.

I ran into the store to get some ant removal products (we love Terro for this) and thought I would try out Better Parenting Through Guilt Technique #1: Buy Your Ungrateful Kids Shit They Don't Need. I saw some tiny Dora sunglasses and was all Why Not? The girls squealed appropriately and then I cut them out of the packages and handed them over. After 3 seconds Goldie made her first mistake when she said with all the fake sweetness at 3.5 year old can muster "What ELSE did you buy me, Mama?" I resisted replying "a ticket to live one more day" and tried to explain how she had hurt my feelings and greatly reduced the chances of buying her toys on impulse ever again. That tactic having been exhausted, the negotiations began regarding where she may take the new sunglasses. Not pleased with the inclusion of sunglasses to the chronically unpopular Nothing But a Spare Change of Undies and an Otherwise Empty Backpack at Preschool rule, the rest of the ride home really sucked.

We are now back to the regularly scheduled: my kids are much nicer to be around when left to play with empty boxes, toilet paper tubes and wrapping paper plan. Lesson learned

The one where I am on drugs

2009-04-14T18:10:00.000-07:00

I got my tonsils out over a week ago. It is not as bad as everyone told me it would be as long as I remember to take my high powered-almost-morphine drugs every couple of hours. Davey has taken two weeks off of work to be with me and take care of the girls, because he is awesome and secretly wants to be an at-home-Dad.

Even eight days into this there really isn't that much improvement, and that is somewhat discouraging. The worst thing is that my girls know that I'm here, but don't understand why I am always asleep or why they can't Karate Chop my neck or why I can't speak most of the time. Basically, I am communicating with them in a language where we can find common ground: The language of Candy.

Candy is the perfect way to tell your child both that you love them, and also to go away before mama changes her mind. It is working perfectly and Easter really a great way to restock.

Note to self: Make dental appointments next week to ensure that their teeth did not, contrary to what I have threatened, actually "rot out of your fool head for not brushing your teeth."