Builder Mama

A letter to my son

2008-11-18T19:42:00.004-05:00

Dear Son,

Tomorrow, you will turn seven. And while inside I'm quietly freaking out for selfish reasons (like, how the hell did I suddenly have a seven-year-old???), I'm also amazed at the person you have become.

You've had so many challenges over the past seven years. Repeated illnesses, and not just your boring run-of-the-mill cold or anything like that. I was thinking about it yesterday as we were walking down the hall at the hospital - there really aren't any areas of that hospital untouched by your presence. But for my sanity's sake, let's keep it that way, okay?

Last week, we found out that you have asthma. You sort of understand what it's all about, and maybe I understand too much. It's hard for me to wrap my brain around the fact that not only do you have your peanut allergy to deal with your entire life, but possibly asthma too. It just seems so unfair, although in the grand scheme of things you've gotten off pretty lightly compared to a lot of other kids. But, just like your peanut allergy, you will figure all of this out and you will be able to handle it just like you handle everything else - with cautious confidence and the knowledge that we are all looking out for you and your best interest.

Health issues aside, you amaze me with the broad scope of information that you have soaked up like a sponge. You are like a Renaissance man for the first grade in your school. While most boys your age are into sports or video games, you have this thirst for knowledge about everything in the world. I have to admit that this thrills me more than just a little bit because it reminds me of myself when I was your age. I wanted to touch, taste, feel, and experience everything - there were no limits to what I wanted to learn about. I want that so badly for you, because my life has been so much richer for all of the experiences that your grandparents gave to me. And I hope I can give that to you, too.

But other than being sick (a lot) and being pretty darn smart, you are truly one of the most wonderful people that I know. Your heart has no limits for loving everyone and you are so compassionate for every living creature that it makes me cry a little thinking about it. There will be a day at some point when someone or something will disappoint you and break your heart, and as much as I want to keep that from happening to you it will make you grow stronger and more determined to love.

Your dad and I have so many dreams and hopes for you. But most of all, I hope that you will continue being the wonderful little boy that you have always been. You are smart, funny, and loving. There are times when you drive us a little crazy, but we know that you are a normal boy and that brings with it all the fun and not-so-fun stuff like testing the limits of our sanity. We get that, and we will do our best to be there for you not only in the good times but in the bad times too.

There will come a day when you won't even want to be in the same zip code with us. Well, at least that's what I hear and what I remember from being a teenager. I hope when all is said and done, that you will always remember that your dad and I love you more than anything in the world.

Love always,
Mommy

PS - By the way, if you ever need bail, call your Uncle David. He's way cooler about it than anyone else in our family would be.

Surprise!

2008-11-17T19:26:00.003-05:00

This morning, Monkey Man and I made a quick stopover at Starbucks for some fuel before we drove up to the hospital on the other side of the city for his x-ray. I was hoping to get there a little early for the mere fact that parking is usually a bitch there and I wasn't entirely sure where we were supposed to go once we got there so we needed some fudge time to figure all that out.

Once we got there, I found a parking place right up front (score!) and after chugging my drink we headed on inside. One slight misdirection and then we ended up at "outpatient registration" where a very unfriendly and apparently ice-hearted woman checked us in and then walked us down the hall. Seriously, she must have been a total kid-hater because she made no attempt to engage Monkey Man at all, and I barely got more than an icy stare.

It was at this point when I received our little surprise. It wasn't an x-ray at all. It was a freaking CAT scan! I started to silently freak out as we sat in Radiology with a million other people, most of whom were at least double my age. Monkey Man had brought the WalMart Christmas Wish Book along so he was happily chattering away as he selected about twelve pages of goodies for himself. Finally, a nice older lady called out, "Mr. Builder?" I started across the room with Monkey Man in tow and she said to me, "I'm looking for Mr. Builder." "Um, yeah, this is Mr. Builder," I said as I presented Monkey Man who was clutching his precious WalMart book and grinning from ear to ear. She seemed to be surprised, probably because most of the people in the waiting room probably had underwear older than Monkey Man.

More paperwork. A few more minutes of waiting and then it was back to the CAT scan room. The technician couldn't have been nicer - not only did he have a 6-year old son himself, but he was a Star Wars fan so he chattered away with Monkey Man as he positioned him on the little bed part of the machine. He asked if I wanted to stay in the room or go back in the booth with him, and as much as I wanted to look inside Monkey Man's head to see what was going on I figured that it was probably better to stay there with him. I donned the lead apron and the tech disappeared back into the booth.

The machine whirred to life. A cross-section of red lasers formed a target on Monkey Man's forehead. My stomach felt sick. This was real.

"Mommy! There are laser beams cutting through my skull! This is awesome!" crowed Monkey Man. "It's like being in Star Wars!"

And just as quickly as it started, it was over. The tech told me the results would be ready in one or two days and the doctor (my brother-in-law) would be in touch. He patted Monkey Man on the head and asked if he was okay...."Yup. That was way easier than that time I got the spinal tap!" he said cheerfully.

"Spinal tap?" asked the tech.

"It's a long story. A really long one," I sighed.

So this morning, after meeting up with Joey so he could whisk Monkey Man away to school, I got online on the American Lung Association website to read up on childhood asthma. Two things stuck out immediately - night coughing, and chronic sinus infections. Huh. We have both of those. But the website was very encouraging about treatment options and it seems like we are on the beginning of a good path. Last night, he slept the entire night without a single cough...I woke up at 2:36 AM so freaked out that I actually stumbled into his room to make sure he was okay. And he was.

Monkey Man went on to school and got his report card which was handed out on Friday. Unfortunately, Joey allowed him to open it and he was crushed to find out that he didn't get all E's, he got a few S's. "I think we're in trouble, because he read it and he was PISSED," warned Joey. So I made sure that when I picked him up tonight that I let him know how proud we were of his hard work and we made a special trip to the Armpit of Hell (a.k.a. Toys R Us) to pick out a little reward. I am all about bribery.

Damn you, Weather Channel, for leading me down a false path of hope

2008-11-16T14:46:00.004-05:00

Several months ago, Heather over at Mama Maven and I decided that it would be great fun to run an 8K that is part of the local marathon. Heather is a bona fide triathlete who works out regularly and has done several different races this year.

Me...well, if you count racing to the nearest bar after work as a workout, then I'm a professional. Other than that, I've got nothing.

So as last week arrived, I got a little panicky. I hadn't run in four weeks, and that last run was pathetic at best. I think Coughstravaganza 2008 has taken its' toll on me emotionally as well as physically. All I have wanted to do is get through the day so I can crawl into bed and hopefully get a few hours of sleep.

As the week rolled on, the forecast started calling for rain. Then thunderstorms. Hmmm...I started fantasizing about how the race would probably be cancelled and then Heather and I could engage in other sports like shopping. And sleeping. I started obsessing on Thursday and checking the hourly forecasts for Friday and Saturday to see what was going to happen.

Heather came rolling in on Friday afternoon and was obviously enthusiastic. Finally I had the courage to ask her what she wanted to do if the weather wasn't good. She had plans to run unless there was lightning. Cold was okay, rain was okay, but lightning...well, probably not so good.

Around 2 AM Saturday morning, I woke up to pouring rain and lightning. I smiled a little bit to myself and rolled over and went back to sleep.

When the alarm went off at 5:15, however, it was a different story. No rain. Not a drop. SHIT.

Well, that was that. Heather came bounding downstairs full of enthusiasm, so I was obviously screwed. There was going to be no talking her into skipping the race and hitting the mall instead. So Heather and I crammed down some bagels and got hydrated the best we could, and Joey and Monkey Man took us up to the race. Nothing like a little door-to-door limousine service, right?

The temperature was around 64 degrees with a light breeze and no rain. Humid, but not unbearable. The excitement around us was contagious, because as we were lining up for the 8K the half-marathon and marathon participants were all arriving and were cheering us on.

The run was hard. I probably hadn't hydrated enough so within the first mile both legs started cramping terribly and I had to start walking. Heather blazed on ahead and I watched her white hat bob on up the route, farther and farther away. Finally, at Mile 2 they had a water stop so I wrangled two cups and chugged them down. I'm not sure if it was that or that I was just getting more warmed up, but by the end of the second mile I was able to get back on track and run more.

The last mile of the race is all downhill and finishes in downtown. My lungs were burning and my legs were worn out, and all I kept focusing on was getting to the end so I could get a damn drink. As I crossed the finish line, I heard Joey calling my name and I looked over to see my boys standing there cheering. "Yaaaaay Mommy! You didn't die!!!" yelled Monkey Man.

Heather finished a few minutes before I did. We each got a finishers' medal, picked up the obligatory bananas and PowerAde, and went off to find the Pimp Mobile so we could get pancakes. Yum.

So anyhow, if running five miles wasn't enough torture, we had something worse in store for us. Monkey Man's birthday party at the laser tag place. All in all, it went well - if you like being boiling hot and being engulfed in the smell of Sweaty Boy Armpits. Gah. The kids had a blast, whereas Joey emerged from the Thunderdome with sweat rolling off of him and declared that we were NEVER coming back there again. So obviously, the party was a huge success.

Most of all, though, I was so glad to see Heather and get to spend some time with her. She is one of the most easy-going, fun people that I know - you can definitely be yourself and just relax and have a good time. I love friends like that! Not to mention the fact that if it hadn't been for her enthusiasm there is no way in hell I would've gotten up yesterday and done the race. No way.

Today, I'm sore but in a "I did something good" way. Nothing a little bourbon and Motrin won't cure.

*****

On a totally different note, we found out Friday that Monkey Man does indeed have asthma. When they do the pulmonary capacity test, if they do the nebulizer test and see a 12% improvement in breathing afterwards, then it's considered asthma. He ended up with a 22% improvement, so that was that. We're trying Advair, along with another 3 weeks of antibiotics to make sure that any infections lurking inside are gone, and then his regular allergy meds on top of that. And, of course, the coughing is now even worse and we were up every other hour with him last night.

Tomorrow, we go to the local hospital for x-rays of his sinuses...I guess my brother-in-law wants to see what is causing all the chronic sinus infections that then turn into upper respiratory infections and so on. Sigh.

I just want him to be better.

Suckage

2008-11-13T19:27:00.003-05:00

Today was my annual review. Usually I look forward to them with a mix of anticipation and nerves - because I know they're always going to be pretty favorable and of course, I'll get a little more moolah.

I know the economy is in the shitter. The local marketplace has really slowed down. We, however, seem to be doing just fine. So I listened to EPOD's boss - who handles all of our reviews - go on and on about how fortunate my company is to remain pretty much untouched by the whole recession thing. My eyes started to glaze over, in all likelihood, because it's pretty much the same stuff every year.

I have never, until the 4 years ago when I went to work for EPOD, have a situation where my direct boss really didn't review my performance. Now, EPOD fills out the form, and then his boss basically does whatever the hell he wants to. Most of the time we end up shooting the shit for 15 minutes, I get my raise and we're done.

There was no raise this year. Despite the fact that when EPOD was finally allowed to speak I had the most glowing review ever. According to EPOD's boss, "we're not really doing much this year for anyone, and I'm not going to be able to give you anything this year..." and at that point, I pretty much mentally checked out of the review process.

The kicker to all of this is that he didn't even fucking read my review from EPOD prior to the second I walked into his office. Seriously, he had already made up his mind what he was going to do before either EPOD or I got in there. The look on EPOD's face when his boss dropped the bomb that I wasn't going to get a raise this year was priceless...a mix of shock and disgust.

Later on, I was beckoned into EPOD's office where he profusely apologized and assured me that 1.) if he'd had any idea that I was going to get the shaft, he would've certainly prepped me so I wasn't caught with that "deer in the headlights look", and 2.) the lack of raise certainly didn't reflect on my performance this year. Period.

While that was all nice and warm and fuzzy, it left me with a serious case of the pissies. Yes, I'm one of the senior females in the office. I'm probably at the top of my pay range. And yes, in this day and time I am so lucky to even have a job so I probably should quit bitching now, right?

But what I was left feeling like was that the decision - which obviously wasn't made based on my performance - was probably based on the fact that I am in the fortunate position of not needing to rely on my salary to put food in my family's mouths or make my mortgage payment. And while yes, I'm thankful for that, I'm pissed as hell. Since when did that become grounds for deciding if someone deserves additional compensation? Hell, I would've been happy with a mere cost of living increase.

Add to this that we've now entered Week 8 of Coughstravaganza 2008 and my attitude is decidedly shitty. Sorry. And if you're one of my friends, I'm not avoiding you as much as saving you from me either ripping your head off and stuffing it down your throat or the unpleasant idea of me bursting into tears because I missed last night's episode of Top Chef. Sleep deprivation is a bitch, my friends.

On a much more pleasant note, Heather of Mama Maven fame is headed here tomorrow where we have plans to run the 8K on Saturday (if the weather holds out, and by run I mean "stagger until I drop into the gutter and show up on the front page of the Sports Section in the Embarrassment Column"), celebrate Monkey Man's birthday with a passel of Badasses, and catch up on some good girlie time. I love spending time with Maven! So it will be all good.

Tomorrow is the asthma test. Joey will be handling that, while I will be at work attempting to put on a happy face. Or not.

Taking the breath right out of me

2008-11-11T19:17:00.004-05:00

Here we are, entering Week 8 or something like that of Coughstravaganza.

Not a lot of sleeping going on at our house.

We had a blissful four nights of silent sleep last week. And damn it, the coughing has started again.

Based on all of this my brother-in-law has decided it's time to do what we've been putting off. Testing Monkey Man for asthma. Apparently, from what I've read, night coughing is a big sign of asthma.

Depending on his technician's schedule, this will happen either tomorrow afternoon or Friday.

I knew this was going to eventually come to fruition. I've been kind of in denial about it because with all the food allergy bullshit we have to deal with, it kills me to know that possibly there's another "lifetime condition" that Monkey Man might have to deal with. He's such a good kid, he doesn't deserve to feel like crap all of the time.

And yeah, I feel guilty even complaining about it when there are kids out there that face far greater challenges every day. But, this is my boy. My boy. The only one I've got.

This sucks. I just hope we can figure out why we can't get him better. I'll take asthma over anything more serious, though. I just want answers.

So much for self-sufficiency

2008-11-10T19:31:00.003-05:00

Yesterday, we made the tragic decision to actually venture out of our house with the hopes of buying Monkey Man some new clothes. We'd all been slumming around in our pajamas so finally Joey came out of the Man Cave and announced that if we were serious about going anywhere, we needed to get our asses in gear, hop in the shower and get a move on.

Okey dokey. Don't have to tell me twice! So I turned the shower on and let it get good and warmed up while I putzed around straightening a few things up. Monkey Man was parked on the sofa watching the umpteenth episode of iCarly and Joey was last seen headed into the powder room off of the kitchen with a magazine.

As an aside here, what is it with men and their need to carry reading materials into the bathroom? Honestly, maybe it's just me, but I go in there to take care of one thing and one thing only - flush and then done. Joey will sit in there for what seems like an eternity reading, it's almost like he's dyslexic unless he's actually sitting on the toilet with his pants around his knees.

But, I digress. So I'm all in the middle of my shower, shampoo done and conditioner in my hair while I shave my legs when suddenly, Monkey Man appears out of nowhere sobbing like a hysterical animal.

"Honey, what's wrong?"

"Mwaaaaaaah, bbbgptth...waaaaaahhhhhhh...." he howled. Seriously, I couldn't even begin to imagine what the hell was wrong.

What I managed to piece together was that apparently he had to visit the potty as well...and being the little independent man that he is and finding that Daddy had ensconced himself in the powder room, he decided to go up to his bathroom on the top floor and do his business. But when it came time to wipe, he encountered some problems...hollered for help and of course, no one came. Oops.

So he did what any six-year-old would do. He pulled up his britches and started to come downstairs, and then the reality hit. Shitty britches. Therefore probably winning him a serious tongue-lashing from his Mommy. Therefore producing said hysterics.

I told him it was okay...everyone has accidents...so I had him strip down with the idea that he could just hop in the shower with me. I figured he was already so emotionally scarred from the whole poop thing that seeing Mommy naked was probably not going to make things any worse. I told him to go ahead and get a washcloth out of the closet in our bathroom - which he did - and then he came on in.

Oh. My. Lord. There was poop everywhere. And to my horror, all over his hands...which had been in my linen closet digging for a washcloth. Not to mention he had to get from the second floor down to our bathroom...Ye gods.

Anyhow, thanks to the little handheld shower head I managed to defunk him pretty quickly and wiped the tears away, he got fresh clothes and the world was good.

My linen closet...not so much. Thank goodness for Clorox is all I have to say.

So one small step for self-sufficency, one giant leap into obsessing over what else in my house could possibly be smeared with poop.

Somebody stop the pounding

2008-11-09T21:11:00.003-05:00

It's official. I've had a migraine since Thursday.

I'm one of the "lucky" people that gets cluster migraines. They can last for days...never bad enough to make me go on migraine meds, just bad enough to be annoying as crap. I will trade them anyday over the migraines I used to get 15 years ago which were so bad that I used to end up in the ER on a regular basis. That might have had something to do with the jackass I was dating at the time, but I digress. Migraines suck.

I guess it's a good thing that most of yesterday was migraine-free. I slept ten hours Friday night, got up and ate breakfast and then went back to bed for two more hours. I NEVER do that. I had one when I woke up, but a few Excedrin later I was good to go for the afternoon. Good thing, because we went to see the Trans-Siberian Orchestra. Ever heard of them? It's like heavy metal with violins. They put on one helluva show, complete with the first half of the concert being Christmas-themed. With snow. There was a moment when I had my head resting on Monkey Man's shoulder (he was perched on my lap due to two freakishly tall people sitting in front of us) and I was watching the snow fall from the Coliseum ceiling along with all the lights and music and I thought this...this is what having fun with your kids should be about. Sharing cool stuff like this.

Then there's stuff like clothes shopping. Maybe it's a good thing I have a son, because if I had a daughter we'd be bankrupt by now. Monkey Man hates shopping...but he hates it even more if I buy him clothes and bring them home. He wants editorial approval, I guess. His jeans have gotten to Urkel-like lengths and most of them have holes in the knees thanks to playground antics so off to Kohl's we went. $236 later and we have five pairs of jeans, a new hooded sweatshirt, and probably eight shirts. Plus socks for Monkey Man and Joey. I think we did pretty well. I did notice a penchant for shirts that have either guitars or motorcycles on them, so if that's any indication of my future with him as a teenager I am sooo screwed.

So anyhow, I'm now in my lime green polka dot pajamas (gift from my sister who apparently thinks I'm not only 12 years old but also a size 4) and ready to crash for the night before the coughing starts. Yes, Monkey Man is coughing yet again. We made it about five nights blissfully cough-free...thankfully last night I made him use his inhaler before bed and it did seem to help.

Here's hoping for a headache-free day tomorrow. I've got sooo much to do tomorrow, plus going to work late won't help. I have to meet the tile guys that did the shower (or rather, a different installer that will hopefully fix what the other guys f-ed up) at 7:30 AM to discuss how they are going to fix the base grout. Sigh. As if I don't have to deal with enough of that BS at work, I've got it at home too.

Get out the tissues

2008-11-08T08:25:00.003-05:00

You will laugh so hard you will CRY.

I have spent the last hour going through Cake Wrecks. I haven't laughed that hard in ages.

Enjoy. And it's going on the blogroll. Good stuff!

Verbal diarrhea

2008-11-06T17:40:00.005-05:00

I really have the beginnings of a migraine - and I know it has nothing to do with politics and everything to do with damn Aunt Flo and her ability to ruin my life (whilst I stuff my face with enough cheese, salt, sugar, and crap to kill an elephant). So this will be a short one today.

Today I got this crazy-ass email that trickled down through the family, but it originated with my sister-in-law, wife of The Salsa King. It was so horrible and nutty that it makes me think that the two of them are going to take over living in the Unibomber's cabin in the woods and we'll start getting manifestos from them. On the good side, no more shitty Christmas presents.

It kind of breaks my heart a little that my brother - who was raised just like the rest of us - married this woman who has completely gone off the deep end and dragged him right along with her. If y'all had read this big, steaming pile of crazy, you would smack yourself in the forehead, say "wow", and probably seriously consider the fact that my sister-in-law would be saner if she was a crackhead. The bad thing is that I think the election has driven her completely off the deep end even further than she already was.

It's kind of a shame. But really, I'm glad I have no relationship with them (or let's just say it's sort of a facade of a relationship) because I could not stand to listen to that bullshit all the time.

I wish they'd go back to selling salsa. They were a lot more entertaining then.

Whew. Just think, we get to do this again in four years....

2008-11-05T18:00:00.002-05:00

I don't think I've ever been so glad to seen an election over. Seriously.

Virginia was one of the "battleground states" but never did I realize that I would end up being bombarded over so many days for my vote. I almost felt sorry for people who were undecided because it was just so much information that it was almost overwhelming at times.

I'll be honest here - and it probably won't come as a surprise to most of you that know me - but I chose to vote for John McCain.

Go ahead, roll your eyes. I know you want to.

There were a multitude of reasons, but honestly my biggest beef was that I really wasn't wild about either candidate. Not at all. It was like choosing the lesser of...well, evils would be too strong of a word, but you get the idea. And honestly, I felt like either candidate would be a huge improvement over George "What, I'm Still Here?" W. Am I right in saying that? I am so sick of that fucker phoning it in for the last few years that I could scream.

I've called myself a "compassionate conservative" for quite a few years. I tend to be financially conservative yet socially liberal. A maverick, so to speak - and not in the John McCain sense, either. There are a lot of the social ideals of the Republican party that I find pretty outdated and can't bring myself to agree with. There are a lot of the financial and foreign policy portions of the Democratic platform that I don't agree with either. So sometimes, it's hard to find someone that I click with on all those levels.

A big part of my issue this year was that we are small business owners that fall into that magic income bracket that will most likely end up paying higher taxes. And yeah, I'm selfish - I don't want to feel like I'm being penalized for our hard work. Period. Sure, you can tell me until you're blue in the face that it's probably not going to happen, but I can't believe that until I see it with my own two eyes. And it's not that I don't want to help people that need help, but it totally grinds my ass when there are so many ways that the super wealthy can dodge paying taxes while the rest of us get it stuck to us right in the wallet. Why can't we fix that instead?

I could rant and rave for days but I won't. I will say this much, though. Yesterday was a day when I was proud to be an American. As I stood in the line at my polling station in the rain and saw people of all walks of life coming to get in line to vote, I was amazed at how much we as a country seemed to actually give a fuck this time. We wanted change, and we went after it. We felt reenergized. We had that fire in our bellies again. And I credit Barack Obama with all of that. He made each of us want to care, whether we agreed with his platform or not. He made us all think about how America can be a better place. He got us all talking about our country and what a freaking mess it is right now. And he got us to do something about it.

So while he might not have been my choice, I applaud him. And I stand behind him, and hope for the very best for the new administration. Because Lord, we're all going to need to stick together on this one.

Validation

2008-11-04T21:16:00.002-05:00

What a rainy, crappy day it was today.

I got to the polls this morning bright at early at 6:45 AM hoping to breeze in and out like I normally do. Nope - I had to wait over an hour in the rain, which really sucked. Although I have to admit, a huge part of me was thrilled that so many people were voting. Every polling place that I passed in my travels across the city today was packed which has never happened in my memory.

No matter who wins, I can say this much - it will be a vast improvement over what we have now. I'm just sayin' - I'm tired of him phoning it in all the time.

We had dinner with one of Joey's suppliers and his girlfriend tonight and it was sooo good. Like so good that my stomach is absolutely about to burst. I am miserable.

Anyhow, I have to brag on my Monkey Man for a minute. Just bear with me.

Yesterday was parent/teacher conference day. When I got to the classroom, there were four little kids sitting out there - obviously siblings - with the obvious classmate of Monkey Man's sitting there working on homework from last week. And, I noticed, he had a black eye.

His mother literally erupted from the classroom with a look of fury splashed all over her face. "Come on, I've heard enough!" she barked at the kids as she scuttled them out of the hallway.

Great. Just great.

So I poked my head around the doorway and waved at the teacher. "Hi, I know I'm about ten minutes early so if you need time I'll just sit out here until you're ready...."

The look of relief on her face was priceless. "Oh, no - come on in! I've been looking forward to your conference all day because it is going to be the best one that I do."

So for about ten minutes, she regaled me with tales of this marvelous student of hers - how smart he is, what a sweet child, his passion for all different subjects in school. I just could not believe that it was my kid she was talking about.

Sure, I know he's special. He's my kid - don't we all think our kids are special? But somehow, I always feel like maybe I don't do enough with him. We have friends that do flash cards and worksheets and all kinds of stuff at home with their kids every night. My kid plays football and gets to watch Spongebob when he gets home. I just let him be...a kid. He's in school all damn day and then goes to The World's Most Expensive Preschool for before- and after-school care where they make him do homework and then he might get to go outside if the stars are in alignment. Maybe.

"He is one of the best students I've ever had," she said. "And I don't know what you and Mr. Builder are doing to raise him, but keep on doing what you're doing because he is one amazing kid."

I told Cat Door today - I went out in the car and cried. Because sometimes, just sometimes, you have to be reminded just how wonderful your kid is.

It was a great day.

Oh, and one more thing...

2008-11-03T16:32:00.002-05:00

Um, I probably don't have to remind you, but get out there and vote tomorrow. I don't think there has been an election this close in our lifetimes, so it's important to get your voice heard. Don't be complacent and think that your vote won't count - because it does. Every vote does. Hello, Florida in 2000?

And, as Mom-101 brought up in today's post, there are alarming reports coming in from all over about voter fraud. Here in the RVA, people were going into areas with high concentrations of black voters and handing out flyers that due to high voter turnout that they could vote on Wednesday if they preferred. Um, not so much.

So if you see anything sketchy, speak up. Mom-101 has the scoop on that. '

No matter what side of the fence you're on, there is nothing cool about denying people their right to vote, PERIOD.

And while I've been keeping my feelings under wraps, I will say that I hope that no matter what the outcome, that our country can pull itself back up. I really do.

It really makes me wonder

2008-11-03T15:46:00.002-05:00

Why is it so difficult for women to be friends?

As I've chronicled before, I have this group of friends that I affectionately call The Badasses...mostly because they are totally NOT badasses. We are educated, intelligent, independent women - albeit somewhat insane.

Remember my girls' weekend at the beach when Shannon and Candy took off and went to the Maroon 5 concert, ditching the rest of us? Well, apparently they felt like we were "silly" for being upset about it - however Shannon apologized, while Candy never did.

Fast forward to this past weekend. Heather's birthday is today, and she had asked Jay and me to meet her at the Red Door Spa on Saturday for a little pampering and then we were going to get the menfolk and meet up for dinner. Heather was determined that she really didn't want to turn all of this into a huge production - she just wanted something small with just the six of us so that we could actually talk and catch up since it had been a while since we'd been able to do that without umpteen screaming kids around.

Well, apparently Shannon caught wind that this was going on and now she's pissed. I guess she felt like she should've been invited? I'm not really sure, but I do find it rather ironic that she is upset considering how "silly" she thought the whole Maroon 5 thing was. In my opinion, there was a difference - the beach weekend was supposed to be the five of us hanging out together all weekend and when Candy and Shannon got tickets they ditched the rest of us. That was highschoolish. Saturday was just 3 friends hanging out and having dinner later on. Once you invite Shannon, then you have to invite Candy and then it snowballs into asking Jen and then Tammy...you get the picture?

Maybe I'm wrong. I've had this happen to me before - with a girl at work whose babydaddy happened to work for Joey. I had a big blowout at our house for my 36th birthday and invited my close friends from the office, and this girl got pissed because she felt like I had intentionally excluded her. Well yeah, I did. For a reason. My husband didn't feel comfortable with her babydaddy coming to our home, period. Not to mention that there were other people from the office that I'm friendly with who didn't get invited either. I invited who I wanted to spend my day with, period. And apparently the girl never did agree with my stance, not that I really cared but it did make things a tad awkward at the office.

Maybe I'm coldhearted. I'm 38, dammit, and I get so tired of girldrama sometimes. I get tired of people who think that the rules only apply to them - they treat others with discourtesy yet get mad if anyone even looks at them cross-eyed. I get tired of having my other friends - who have huge hearts and only want people to be happy - get their feelings hurt over and over.

Over a year ago, I lost one of my closest friends because she refused to apologize. We had been friends for over ten years - we work together and had shared a lot of our lives together, she was truly one of my best friends. Well, she let her ambition at work get the better of her and I found out from my boss EPOD that she had badmouthed me not only to him, but to one of the vice presidents. When I confronted her with it, she refused to apologize. And it's not that I expected her to say that she was wrong or anything - all I ever wanted was for her to apologize for hurting my feelings. Which to date she has refused to do. It hurts - I won't lie, it hurts like hell to know that someone would give up a ten-year friendship over their own stupid pride.

I don't know. It's all so exhausting. I look at so many of my female friends, especially the ones I've met through the PIM's or the blog and I marvel at what amazing people they are. So what the hell is wrong with the friends I have here? Why can't they be normal....sigh....

NaBloPoMo uh-oh

2008-11-02T20:47:00.003-05:00

Yeah, so since I'm a member of NaBloPoMo, I thought it would be entirely appropriate to completely forget to post yesterday. Oops.

It's been a hectic two weeks since the last time I posted. A general summary:

Monkey Man finally seems to be making some improvement, thanks to lots of steroids. Unfortunately, said steroids made him behave like Skrat in Ice Age. I'm just sayin', not a good thing.

Work sucks. We don't have much work going on and the rumors are flying about potential layoffs. I believe we're the last GC in town to start laying people off, which is kind of nice but scary too. Having been here 12 years this coming Tuesday and being pretty overpaid makes me nervous. Really nervous.

I had to make a homemade Halloween costume for the Fairy Tale parade at Monkey Man's school. Thanks to WalMart, he picked out some black and grey fur that ended up exploding all over my kitchen, the "no sew" instructions sucked so bad that I eventually broke out a stapler to put the stupid thing together, and my son ended up looking like a demented chinchilla rather than what we were aiming for - the Big Bad Wolf.

I have a race with Maven in two weeks and I am not ready. Not at all. I am scared out of my mind that I will end up dying because I am such a wuss.

So anyway, a lot more has happened but in the spirit of NaBloPoMo, I'm saving it for posting material. If I remember to post.

Have a great Monday, y'all! Snapped is on, and I've got to study up.

Finally, a title for my memoirs

2008-10-20T21:32:00.000-04:00

Just when things had been relatively quiet around here, it happened.

A Forced In-Law Interaction.

And it was just as bad as you could imagine.

Let me preface this by saying that the past four weeks have not been fun around here. Monkey Man has still been sick - we moved on last week to a second prescription for antibiotics along with an inhaler, and then this past Tuesday the Vomitstravaganza started. It was really odd that he would barf one day - be absolutely fine (no fever, no aftereffects), and then exactly 48 hours later he would barf again. Huh. Anyhow, we have now been almost 48 hours vomit free (yay!) so hopefully we are on the tail end of all this crap.

Therefore, we have had serious lack of sleep. Or, I should say that I have. Joey has to be relatively mentally sharp to do his job or it can be really, really bad. Me, I can phone it in most days with no problem. However, when I've had four days of sleep without any night wakings in 26 days, even I can become a flaming bitch. I even had the courtesy to go into EPOD's office on Thursday and apologize in advance if I happened to rip his head off and shove it down his throat. I'm thoughtful that way, and evaluations are coming so I figured that was the right thing to do.

Okay, so back to the Forced In-Law Interaction. So my father-in-law's 70th birthday is today, and since no one in their right mind figured that this chain-smoking alcoholic could make it to 70 it was time for a celebration. Yay.

Joey and I tried to plan the whole thing (or let's say he had all the ideas and I was trying to fit in phone calls to places trying to figure it all out) until my mother-in-law decided that she was going to take control. Or, as I've found out, it is roughly translated into "I will plan to do something super spectacular knowing that in the end I will stick Joey and Liz with the bill for the entire thing." I've been down that road before, so although Joey protested that *this* time was going to be different, I kept my mouth shut and secretly knew that at the end of it all it would be our Visa card picking up the tab.

We had Monkey Man's homecoming game on Saturday, ran home to take showers, and then hit the road. I was exhausted and slept most of the way there, mostly because it the days of yore I could usually hole up in a bedroom and take a nap at the in-laws' house, but since they started letting their goddamn cat in the house I cannot put any part of my body except my ass anywhere without my throat closing up and wheezing like crazy.

When we arrived at their house, we were met in the driveway by Buddy the Psycho Dog. Buddy has absolutely no redeeming qualities whatsoever other than he breathes. And honestly, he's a waste of oxygen. He proceeded to jump all over each of us, getting mud all over our pants (which we had no extra pants for, yay!).

Everyone ran inside where we found my father-in-law in the recliner, drunk. He then got up and proceeded into the hallway bathroom to sit on the toilet and grunt, groan, and whatever else for thirty minutes. With. The. Door. Open. Since I've been on the receiving end before of this eyeful of redneck goodness, I stayed in the living room and prayed that I didn't need to make a trip up the hallway for any reason lest my corneas become seared from the sight of my father-in-law's naked ass sitting on the commode. Not to mention that he had to leave the door open because the exhaust fan wasn't working, God forbid he actually have to put up with his own bodily odors without sharing them with the rest of the family.

I could go into huge detail here, but there were a few key elements that I'll just briefly touch on so this doesn't become the modern-day version of Moby Dick. First of all, their house is back to being as nasty and filthy as it was last year before the big "renovation" (translation: interior painting) took place. My mother-in-law had previously sent her computer tower up to Joey via my brother-in-law a few weeks ago because it was making a funny noise...and when he opened up the panel, it was so gunked up with dirt, hair, and grease that he had to use a toothbrush to get the crap out since the compressed air and the little vacuum didn't work. Ick. So if the computer, which is basically encased, was that bad...you can imagine what the rest of the house was like.

Then there was the gun. My father-in-law, apparently, has taken to sitting in an armchair in the living room and shooting his shotgun out of the sliding glass door. There are several pecan trees right off of the deck and he has been protecting the nuts from scavenging crows, so obviously the reasonable way to do that is to sit in your armchair all cozy like, with your travel mug full of bourbon, slide open the sliding glass door and shoot the motherfucking crows with your double-barrel shotgun. Doesn't everyone do that?

Well, if they do, hopefully they put said shotgun away before their grandson comes to visit. Instead, it was laying in the armchair with the butt hanging off and all I could envision was Monkey Man bumping into the gun, knocking it into the floor, and someone other than my father-in-law getting their head blown off. 'Cause it was loaded, of course. Finally, my mother-in-law moved it to the dining room table, and then at Joey's behest finally moved it...somewhere, I'm not sure exactly where.

At this point, my head was about ready to explode and Joey had finally gotten his mom's computer back up and running and spent an hour downloading some antiviral software via dial-up. We decided to head to the restaurant for dinner...an hour and a half early.

By the time dinner rolled around and all of the other 45 people were there, I was just done. I can only deal with the lunacy for so long on a good day, but when I'm already sleep deprived it's a whole other story.

The kicker, perhaps, was after spending almost a thousand dollars between the dinner and the present we got him (which I'm not exactly even sure what it was, that's how interested I was in the whole thing), do you know what his favorite gift was? Want to take a guess?

A cooler full of uncooked chitlins. Or chitterlings, if you want to be more technical about it. Uncooked pig intestines. And no, smartasses, that wasn't what we gave him.

All I have to say is that I'm thankful we came back home Saturday night, because he was practically foaming at the mouth with the anticipation of cooking them up bright and early on Sunday morning. And if you've never smelled chitlins being cooked, they smell like ass. Go figure.

As I was relaying the story to my friends over the past two days, there was a distinct mix of laughter and horror. Just when you think the stories can't get worse, they do. And I'm convinced that one day, either when I'm divorced or widowed, I will be able to finally write about it all and make millions - "Shotguns and Chitlins - The Memoirs of a Long-Suffering Daughter-In-Law."

Attention video game fans!

2008-09-30T21:28:00.003-04:00

Do I have a great review...the VTech V-Motion Active Learning System. It's a great system with fun, educational games aimed at kids from 3 to 7 years old. Stop on by Picks and Pans to get the scoop!

Cabo Redux

2008-09-29T10:17:00.003-04:00

We're back, by hook and by crook....

Overall, Cabo was really awesome. Things at home, though, weren't so great.

Wednesday morning, Heather the Babysitter came to our house at 4 AM so we could leave for the airport. Her task for the day was to take Monkey Man to before-school care and then her sister Valerie was going to pick him up after school and bring him home until Heather finished her school. She's in dental hygienist school, you know.

By the time we got to Chicago, we were sitting at breakfast at Macaroni Grill (more on that later) and got a voice mail that she had locked herself out of the house. Luckily she had everything that she needed for the day and didn't need it unlocked right away, but someone had to get over there before Monkey Man got out of school. Immediately, I called Cat Door who is the only friend we have with a key to our house and he agreed to go over there as soon as he got a chance to unlock the door. He texted me later, "Don't worry, I'm here and will take care of everything. HAVE FUN DAMMIT."

If only it had been that easy.

By the time we got to Cabo and did the grind through customs and immigration and did the ride to the hotel (which, by the way, was vastly improved from the last visit where the road was still under construction and we had to go on goat paths half the way), I was so ready for a drink. We went immediately to the pool bar, met Malcolm and Paula and this cool British guy named Duncan who was on our flight from Chicago, and bellied up for some drinks and something to eat.

Then, I checked my voice mail. Heather had called, and she had gotten a call from The World's Most Expensive Preschool. Monkey Man was sick. Of course.

Long story short - he ended up with almost a croupy cough, runny/stuffy nose, and a fever. So my sister, God love her, went and swooped him up and kept him until we picked him up at 1 AM this morning. She has been saying for a while that she wanted to keep him for a weekend, but I don't think that this is necessarily what she had in mind. Honestly, I was probably more worried about her and my brother-in-law because they are totally not used to have a six-year-old around, let alone one swimming in green goo and demanding Spongebob. I think I'm going to have to do something nice for them, like an all-expenses paid trip to Europe or something. Or maybe just a gift card for dinner out somewhere nice.

Monkey Man, however, had the time of his life. With my sister's two gargantuan greyhounds at his beck and call, he was the king of the roost. My sister spoiled him absofreakinglutely to death. He told her yesterday that he really, really, really liked staying at her house. I can only imagine what thoughts were running through her head since she probably got NO sleep the entire time thanks to Sir Coughsalot.

So it definitely put a damper on the trip. It made it really hard to relax at all because I was worried about Monkey Man plus my sister and brother-in-law (who at least could escape to work every day, but when you're a pediatrician...well, that wouldn't be much of a break at all, would it?). I called twice a day to check on things and tried to keep my spirits up, when in reality all I wanted to do was jump on a plane and get home.

Oh, and the Macaroni Grill breakfast? Was just what my stomach needed to start me off with the shits before we even got to Mexico. I think it was worse than Montezuma's Revenge could ever be. All I can say is hey, people in first class on our flight down? Yeah, I'm sorry. Seriously, I tried to wait for the line in coach to go down and use the john with the rest of us peasants, but it didn't happen. And when that "vacant" light was on...well, yeah. I violated your potty. I'm sorry.

And both of us ended up with some form of intestinal distress throughout the entire trip. And it wasn't the tequila, dammit.

Anyhow, Cabo...we did a spa day. We spent one day just hanging at the pool. We went into town and did some shopping. We went out and drank. A lot. Did I mention drinking a lot?

But yesterday was time to come home, so we got to the airport early and once we got to the ticket counter, the lady told us our flight was delayed at least an hour. Um, not good, considering we only had 2 hours in Chicago anyway to get our luggage through Customs and make our next flight - and you know it never goes smoothly, right? Anyhow, everyone's flights were delayed so we ended up sitting around the airport - along with Duncan, whose flight got moved too and he ended up being rerouted to Chicago on our flight - and eating Burger King. For some odd reason, I walked by one of the flight status boards at one point and noticed...hey, the flight was leaving earlier than they thought! So we got on the plane and crossed our fingers that we might make our connection in Chicago.

Once we got to Chicago, we literally RAN to Customs...got our luggage (which for some reason ours was within the first 10 suitcases that came out) - rechecked baggage after going through immigration and customs - and then hoofed it over to the other terminal.

YES! We made the flight. By like 10 minutes. And cocky little bastards that we are, we were high-fiving each other in the plane.

Oops. Our luggage didn't make it. It's still in Chicago. I just got off the phone with the airlines and hopefully we'll have it back today. Which would be a good thing considering my hairdryer and makeup bag is in there.

Anyhow, we finally got home around 1 AM with Monkey Man in tow. Got jack for sleep. And I called in sick today, so I'll have to face the wrath of EPOD tomorrow which makes my stomach hurt just thinking about it.

Or is that the tequila? I'll never tell.

Rupture

2008-09-21T19:27:00.003-04:00

I don't know what it is about me, but it seems like every time we're getting ready to leave on vacation I get sick.

Last week, my ear started giving me some trouble. It seemed like just another lovely wax clog, so I got Joey to dose me up with some ear goop a few times and attempted to flush my right ear out. It really didn't seem to be any better when I finished, but I figured my ear just needed to drain.

By Thursday, my throat was feeling a little scratchy and my ear was kind of itchy. The kind of itchy where you feel like sticking an icepick in your ear for some relief. I went to football practice for a little while, Joey came to relieve me so I went home and literally crawled into bed.

Friday, I worked a half-day and then came home and fell asleep on the couch. A quick nap. A quick nap that lasted two hours and left me feeling like I'd been hit by a truck.

So after dinner, it was off to the urgent care place. A double-ear infection, and when they flushed both of my ears out my left ear bled. Yippee. I've had a few doses of my Z-pack and feel better for the most part, but I'm wary. The doctor warned me that if I hadn't come in, in all likelihood my eardrum would've burst when I got on the airplane on Wednesday. Not exactly what you want to hear when you're going to a foreign country, right? Ew.

*****

Wednesday morning, we are headed off to Cabo San Lucas. We went two years ago and had a great time, so I'm excited to be not only going back to such a fantastic place but getting away for a while.

Meanwhile, I've been trying to coordinate Monkey Man's schedule along with the babysitter's work and school schedule. She has gone back to school - dental hygienist school - and between classes and a big test on Saturday it's been somewhat challenging making sure that Monkey Man will be taken care of and be safe and sound. I trust her...I just am a little freaked out because we're having to use some friends to pitch in and cover things a few times while we're gone. This is one of those times when I wish either set of grandparents was able (or willing) to step in, and I really wish my sister would've offered to help. But, as usual, it's just us. Sigh.

*****

While we're gone, there's going to be some serious discussin' going on.

I got a job offer last week.

A former mentor of mine from work - who left two years ago - started his own company a year ago and is finally ready to hire some help. He does home renovation work - kind of like Cat Door, but on a bigger scale. We went to lunch last week and I totally thought he was taking me to pick my brain about LEED when in reality he threw out the job offer on the table.

It's tempting. Scary, but tempting. Basically, I would be able to set my own hours. I would be working part time. I would get away from the toxic environment of my office. We could probably do away with The World's Most Expensive Preschool. I would get to work from home sometimes. We might actually get a home-cooked meal every now and then. I could be more involved with Monkey Man's school.

Then there's what I would be giving up. The stability of a job I've had for twelve (!) years. My friends. The financial freedom of a full-time salary. My great 401(k) plan which includes 50% matching.

Things here at Builder Mama HQ have been kind of rough as of late. Basically, we're both working our asses off and are so tied up in everything else, we are like two ships passing in the night. We started date nights a few weeks ago so we could at least have a few hours together every few weeks to talk without being interrupted a million times. We're both exhausted.

I can't help but feel that maybe, just maybe, it's time to sacrifice a little of the money to get a little better quality of life. I'm just not sure Joey is buying into that, though.

It should be interesting.

Flasher in the pan

2008-09-17T19:08:00.003-04:00

It's getting so ridiculous at this point...the lack of blog posting...that I'm not even going to apologize for it anymore. Heh.

*****

Is the election over yet? I'm about ready to move to Canada or something. I've had enough.

*****

Two Fridays ago, Joey and I arrived at The World's Most Expensive Preschool to pick up Monkey Man from the after-care program and were met at the door by Lisa, The After-Care Director.

"Well, he didn't have a great afternoon. He was talking back to the teacher, not listening, and wouldn't stop pushing one of his friends," she whispered.

I can tell you this much - there wasn't a lot of whispering going on in the car on the way to dinner. Stern talking, as in If I Were Your PaPa I Would Be Beating Yo Ass With My Big Belt. And the promise of worse punishment if we had any more problems at after-care - as in, NO FOOTBALL.

Yup, we were so freaking smug. We figured out his currency and we cashed it in, dammit. There was no way that our kid was going to be anything but a model citizen from now on.

Can I have a slice of humble pie now?

Last Friday, I arrived at after-care and was greeted at the door by Lisa again. Crap.

"Um, yeah, we had a little issue today. Actually, a big issue. Monkey Man...um...well, showed his privates to two of the boys today. This morning, actually."

Hell what?

Long story short, he was IN the classroom when he decided to show off his winky to two of his buddies. They were all laughing when the teacher came over and asked what was so funny...Monkey Man got hauled off to Lisa's office where he promptly confessed that the two boys had dared him to do it. So they had a little chat with him and the two boys, and she asked me if I could follow up with Joey and have a serious talk with him about the whole thing.

My face burned. MY kid? My good, sweet kid? My kid that almost never gets in trouble for anything? I thanked her, went into the classroom and I knew by the look on his face that he instantly knew he was in Deep Shit.

I can't remember a time when I was more angry with him. Seriously, it's probably a good thing that CPS wasn't lurking out in the parking lot because I got that boy in the car and let fly with a screaming fit like no one has ever seen. Joey called in the midst of all of it, told me I was overreacting, but by the time we met up for dinner he was about ready to turn the kid into a big greasy spot in the parking lot.

I can laugh about it today - I mean seriously, I get it. Boys - and men - think that their winkies are the most important thing in the universe and they should be able to display it no matter what. But here's the thing - this was serious. First of all, our county schools have zero tolerance for this kind of stuff - they don't care if you're six or sixteen, ya don't do that shit. It's called sexual harrassment and is grounds for suspension or even, heaven help me, expulsion. Secondly, not only did he show his privates to some other kids, but he LIED about it to Lisa. The boys didn't dare him to do it at all...he did it because he thought it was funny.

And do you know why he thought it was funny? Because another kid had done it to him in summer camp. At the lunch table. Seriously. The World's Most Expensive Preschool apparently has a bunch of flashers in the first and second-grade groups. I've heard numerous stories from other parents about this stuff going on (and other similar things all focusing on winkies) so obviously there are some supervisory issues going on.

Not that it excuses the behavior, mind you. And not that it excuses me or Joey from not emphasizing that private parts are exactly that...PRIVATE. Hoo boy.

So anyway, we discussed everything at length and tried our best to teach him that private parts are private...and nothing to be dirty or ashamed of...but also the issues involved with showing them in inappropriate ways...and also the whole lying thing. It was simply awful.

The punishment we came up with was multifaceted. And maybe a little harsh, but honestly I felt like the crime deserved it.

No cartoons.
Clean up the playroom without assistance (including pulling out old toys to give to charity)
Removing all stuffed animals from his bed (this was huge, he cried the whole time because he freaking loves those things)
And worst of all...no football. But I did make him go to his first game and stand at the fence to watch his teammates play. He cried the whole time.

I don't think we scarred him for life, but hopefully he's learned his lesson.

And I learned that sometimes, being a parent really, really sucks.

It's all Greek to me

2008-09-07T18:15:00.003-04:00

Or, maybe more appropriately, Chinese.

At the end of the school year, we received a letter home from Monkey Man's school that they were going to introduce a new part of the curriculum for the 2008 - 2009 school year:

Mandarin Chinese.

At first, I was a little irritated. How about Spanish, since it's becoming increasingly useful (especially around these parts)? But then I thought - well, that's cool.

Until I saw the homework. With no instructions on what the hell he's supposed to do. So I guess we'll be taking a stab at it and I'm sure she'll let us know next Friday when he turns it in if he did the right thing. All I can think, though, as I look at the sheet that she gave him, is that it's going to be a hell of a long year. Mandarin Chinese will be the death of me, I'm afraid.

*****

Monkey Man's first football game of the season was cancelled this weekend thanks to the tropical storm or monsoon or whatever it was we had yesterday. It rained cats and dogs most of the day and although the wind wasn't really bad it was WET.

Somehow, the dog got outside and ended up cowering on the front porch without anyone realizing he was out there. Eventually, I went looking for him and found him there, so he happily burst through the front door and spent the next few hours hiding in the laundry room spooning with his dry food bucket.

Later on, I tried to get him back outside and he wasn't having any parts of that. So he remained in the laundry room until heard Joey and Monkey Man goofing around in the basement with the football so of course he had to go galumphing down the stairs. (Note: If you ever have the opportunity to watch a corgi go down stairs, you should definitely watch from a safe place. Anatomically, they are not designed to go down the stairs like a normal dog so they do this crosswise gallumph all the way down...and if you're in the way, Lord help you.)

I was parked on the sofa watching some idiotic TV when I heard Joey start yelling at the dog. I went running downstairs and apparently, Rufus had gotten so excited that two perfect pieces of shit had come rocketing straight out of his ass.

I guess he was so excited his poor little sphincter finally relaxed and...well, all I can say is thank God that Cat Door gifted me with some fantastic enzyme carpet cleaner from Peestravaganza 2008.

*****

I just realized that I hadn't talked about Cat Door in a long time. He's been busy. Really busy. Like so busy that most days he barely takes lunch and is working from 6 AM until 6 PM.

A few months ago, he was going into Home Depot when he saw this bum-looking character hanging around as usual. The guy would always kind of wave at him and of course, Cat Door always gave him The Marine Nod and moved on his way. That day was different, though - the guy asked if Cat Door would give him a job. He said yeah, but only on a provisional basis.

So here we are a few months later, and Al - the Bum - is still working for him. Why, I'm not sure, because these are just a few of the highlights of Al's employment:

*His first week, Cat Door paid him and then got a phone call not even 24 hours later that Al had gotten drunk and lost all his money. And wanted a loan.

*Two weeks after that, Al was getting ready to get evicted from his trailer so he decided to go door-to-door in the trailer park trying to pick up side jobs fixing things so he could get rent money. He ended up finding two women who were in the same predicament so they all decided to move in together. Then I guess Al and one of the ladies (ahem) started hooking up, so Cat Door was treated to reports on an hourly basis about how Al hadn't gotten laid in SIX YEARS and damn, he'd forgotten what he was missing. Keep in mind, this guy is 62 years old - I'm just hoping he doesn't have a heart attack or something after a drought like that.

*A few weeks later, Al told him that he had to take a half-day off in order to bomb his trailer for roaches. Cat Door had the other helper drive Al home (because, of course, he hasn't had a driver's license in like 20 years), and when the helper came back he said, "Mike, I don't think he's going home to bomb his trailer. He had me drop him off at the liquor store." Three hours later, Al started drunk-dialing Cat Door's cell phone every 10 minutes for the next few hours even after Cat Door cut his cell phone off. He also quit about five or six times. Eventually, the next day, he called Cat Door and asked if he could have his job back.

*He lost his cheapo Wal-Mart reading glasses, but instead of fessing up he came on to work without saying a word. He then proceeded to cut 27 pieces of siding incorrectly because he couldn't see.

*Last Monday, he called in sick because he said he'd had a little accident. The following day, he showed up with an elbow swollen up to the size of a grapefruit - he'd chipped the bone in a car accident. Oh, and he needed another loan.

So I think over the past few months, he's averaged about three days a week. Cat Door was bitching on Friday about how busy he's been and how he really wants to go on a motocross trip to Vegas in October and he doesn't have anyone reliable to keep an eye on things while he's gone. "Why, Mike, can't you hire anyone decent?" I asked.

"Liz - I can't afford decent. I can afford breathing with a pulse."

And I'm thinking that surely Al must've worked for Joey at some point, because that's exactly the caliber of employee that they have at The Bane of My Existence.

Have a great Monday, y'all.

Something to think about

2008-09-04T22:05:00.002-04:00

This is what I call the definition of optimism:

Getting only one napkin in a kids' meal at Wendy's.

Age before beauty

2008-09-03T21:36:00.002-04:00

As I've mentioned, oh, about ten zillion times, I worship at the altar of Celeste the Skin Goddess pretty much every 5 weeks or so.

Or at least I used to. Before she mysteriously disappeared.

The backstory on all this is that this lady named Sheri owns the skin place. Celeste worked for her for about...oh, two years? Sheri is probably in her early 40's whereas Celeste is a whopping 26 years old.

I felt like they seemed to get along okay when I first started going there. But over the past few months, I noticed that as Celeste's personal life seemed to get rockier, things at work weren't going so well either. Celeste is a really sweet girl, but she is a freaking emotional trainwreck. She broke up with her boyfriend of three years back in January and had been dating this guy in a rock band off and on over the past three months. She had been living with the ex and got so dependent on the two-income household that moving out on her own had proven to be very difficult - not only financially, but emotionally too. Not to mention the rocker guy was way immature and younger than her, so they broke up and got back together a few dozen times. Every time I went in there, she had some new stories to tell me.

Honestly, I enjoyed it. She was fun to talk to, and of course who doesn't like to play the Mama Bear in a situation like that. She always listened to my advice and even if she didn't take it, I think it helped her just get some things off her chest.

Then, a few months ago, she mentioned to me that she hoped she hadn't ever offended me with her stories. I guess maybe someone had complained to Sheri, her boss, about it? I assured her that no, it hadn't offended me at all and actually I enjoyed having an hour of just girl talk. It was fun.

Four weeks ago, I got a call from the skin place's receptionist telling me that they needed to cancel my appointment with Celeste because, um, she no longer worked there. Huh? I immediately panicked. What was I going to do?

In the back of my mind, though, I was a teensy bit relieved. Let's face it...I'm not getting any younger. After the previous few visits, I had become a little dissatisfied with Celeste's service. She was constantly pushing products and trying all kinds of crazy stuff on me. And I felt like my skin wasn't really getting any better - if anything it was getting worse. It felt dry and rashy and was very prone to breakouts as well. I had been toying with the idea of switching over to Sheri with the hopes that having an "older" woman handling it that I would be happier with the results. So I set an appointment with her and went.

I'm glad I did. She set me up with a slightly tweaked program and enough samples to get me through a few weeks. And I have been pleased. Very pleased. Not to mention I have fewer steps to my skincare regimen than I ever have, with much better results.

Today, I walked by April's office and she waved me in. She had heard from Celeste - as a matter of fact, they had lunch a few weeks ago and Celeste said she's moved on to a new place. And she wants to know if I'm going to follow her.

No. I'm not going to. While Sheri isn't as "fun" as Celeste, she certainly is nice. And really, the last appointment was really relaxing as we talked about our kids and green tea and summer vacations. I walked out with a bag of samples and was very happy with the results. Not to mention that I was totally relaxed. It was just what the doctor ordered.

Maybe this old lady needed another old lady after all. And a big bottle of thermal spring water, to boot.

First day

2008-09-02T19:45:00.003-04:00

The last week has been a whirlwind of football practices, a quick trip to Charlotte (of which we will never speak again because the Hokies sucked that bad), some fun and frolic with the Badasses, and of course...the first day of school today. Sigh.

I was thinking back today about the first day of school when I was growing up. I loved school (freak). I couldn't wait for school to start. But my first day was never special. I suspect that by the time I came along - kid number four to a mom who was worn out from having teenagers - my mom was happy to just push me out the door to the bus stop. I don't ever remember her walking me to the bus stop, or doing any kind of first-day rituals with me. No pictures, no cookies after school, nothing.

Gosh, I'm getting kind of sad now.

And then there's Joey, who was basically raised by his grandparents. His parents were so busy working trying to keep a roof over their heads that they were almost never home. And his grandparents didn't drive, so it really limited what he was able to do. Like he never got to play any sports in school because there was no one to pick him up. He did play baseball for an independent league, but only because he had buddies whose moms would pick him up.

Again, sad.

So, when Monkey Man asked me yesterday if I was going to come to The World's Most Expensive Preschool to watch him get on the bus on the first day of school, I kind of gulped and said yes, I would be there. I hadn't planned on going - heck, I was planning on getting to work early and everything knowing what a busy week we were going to have - but I couldn't let the boy down. If he wanted me there, I was going to be there, dammit. I left EPOD a voicemail explaining what I was up to and that I would be in around 9:30.

I crept into the school this morning where the kids were lined up waiting on the buses. I started snapping pictures when he looked over at me and waved me to come over.

"MOMMY. I'm not in kindergarten anymore, so really, you don't have to be here."

Oh. My bad. So I went back over and stood against the wall, just observing the kids.

He beckoned to me again.

"Okay, well, I just wanted to say that I'm still glad you're here." And he hugged me.

The little shit.

He really likes his new teacher, and has a few buddies in his class (albeit none of the Badass kids are in the same class this year, what were the odds of that?). And he got one of his beloved cafeteria cheeseburgers for lunch, so the world was good.

Football frenzy

2008-08-25T21:11:00.003-04:00

By the way, congrats to Michelle B. who won the Yoplait Kids giveaway over at Picks and Pans!

There is still one prize left, so if anyone is interested please leave me a comment over there and I'll zip it to you as soon as I can get my head above water!

*****

Football has totally taken over Builder Mama Headquarters. All football, all the time. Practices four days a week, and this weekend was the "jamboree" which is just a translation for multiple scrimmages while the parents sit out in the sun and dirt.

I have to confess, though, that it was fun. I love watching Monkey Man play. He adores football and would eat, sleep, and breathe it if he could.

He's fast. Really fast. He sure didn't get it from me, and he didn't get it from Joey either. "All I ever do is see him sprawled on the couch," complained Joey the other night. Yup, that about sums up his existence. Until football.

He has this really odd obsession about uniform colors and mascots. It's probably a good thing that his school colors are yellow and black, or we'd probably have to move. And every team he plays he has to know what the mascot is.

His team is called the Gators. So every team that he plays, he will repeat some silly thing like "Mommy, we're gonna chomp the Cardinals this Saturday!" And usually, I'm focused more on things like not running over kids in the parking lot so I'm going uh huh, yeah, great.

Last Friday, we were riding down the road when he asked me what team they were playing on Saturday....

Monkey Man: So Mommy, who are we playing?

Me: All I know is that you're playing Weaver in the first game.

MM: Weaver? What's their mascot?

Me: I don't know, son. I have no idea...

MM: I bet it's the Beavers! The Weaver Beavers!

Me: I doubt it. I don't think any teams around here are called the Beavers.

MM: But it rhymes! Weaver Beavers!

Me: Mmm hmmm...

A few moments goes by, and you can almost hear the wheels turning in his head....

MM: Yup, we're gonna eat some Beavers this weekend!

Holy crap. I just about drove off the road with that one. It was all I could do not to pee my pants trying not to laugh.

It's gonna be a loooong fall.

Brain power!

2008-08-21T06:10:00.000-04:00

Do you want something free?

Do you want to make your kid smart?

Duh! Of course you do! So hop on over to Picks and Pans to check out my review on Yoplait Kids. And I have a giveaway! And a free coupon!

So get moving!