Be a bad mom like me – and lose weight!

So I am entering the third week of icky sickness here at the abode. I know we are all going through it being flu season and all, so I won’t harp on the details. I will be thrilled that I made it through it all without ME puking or coughing or being snotty or anything. Yes, I am lucky. And I am SO LUCKY that tomorrow I GET to go back to the office. I can hardly believe I am saying that, but the cubicle is calling my name. The sweet, sweet QUIET cubicle where no one needs Sprite, no one needs a small garbage can to puke in that I have the great privilege of cleaning out, no one needs a certain type of medicine that is NOT in the house at 1am, no one needs to be reminded to take their antibiotic, no pills need to be crushed into apple juice… Oh, oops. I said I wasn’t going to do that. I am just so very thankful to be laying out a magazine tomorrow I might just kiss my boss for hiring me and taking me away from all this wonderfulness at my house. The point is, everyone is 90% better, and in my book, that is good enough for me. BACK TO WORK AND SCHOOL Y’ALL!

But I did hit a low point today. Boyfriend called to say he was on his way home but had to go back to work later that night for something. Fine. Good. It meant I didn’t have to make the meatloaf dinner that my children were going to hate. Frozen pizza it was since he would not be here at dinner hour. Cool. A night where I don’t have to cook is a good night to me. It is about 5:30pm. I have been taking care of The Soph all day today and yesterday and she is feeling waaaay better. I tell the kids mommy needs 20 minutes to go run on the treadmill. The Soph asks if she can come watch. Yeah. Um. NO. I say, “This is mommy time. PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE.” Ok, so she got a sad look on her face, and I could tell that maybe I had hurt her feelings. So I said, “Guilt won’t work. Get over it. It’s JUST 20 minutes. Unless the house gets set on fire or there is an earthquake LEAVE ME ALONE. Toodles!” And into my bedroom I went. I got on my running clothes, stretched, enjoyed the peace and vomit free environment and got on the treadmill. I put on my earphones and began running to the beautiful Jon Bon Jovi singing JUST TO ME. Ahhhh, life was good… Out the window I saw boyfriend pull in the driveway. About 2 minutes later he came in and walked over to me. I pretended not to see him in my peripheral vision. This was MY time. It was just JON AND ME. Well, he moved into my line of sight. “Do you want me to put the pizza in the oven?” he asks. “What?” I say with an annoyed voice dramatically pausing my ipod for effect. (Sophie gets it from me, I admit it freely) “Do you want me to put the pizza in now?” he says again. “Uh, whatever. I don’t think the kids are hungry yet. But if you are, yeah, fine….” I definitely got my ‘Do I not look busy to you and why are you asking me about frozen pizza NOW?!’ annoyed voice on. Not because he is really annoying me, I mean, the sweet man IS trying to help, but it is just, well, this is MY ONLY TIME TO MYSELF. So he takes the hint and walks away and I can care less if the pizza gets in now or 20 minutes later. I quicken my pace to Jon Jon’s ‘Have a Nice Day.’ Life is good again.

THEN. The Soph walks in. “Mooooom…I’m kinda hungry. But my stomach is a little growly, but I am not sure if it is growly in the hungry way or the throw up way. What do you think? Can I have a snack? Can you get me a snack? Should I have a snack? Can I have another Sprite? Noah just took one of MY Sprites. Aren’t they miiiine? I am the siiiick one!!” And. And. This is where I lost it people. Oh yes. I did.

At this moment Boyfriend was in the room, Noah was near the doorway to see what the verdict was on his Sprite stealing and Sophie, I believe, was still droning on…

I ripped off my ipod and yelled (as I am huffing and puffing, Jon Jon can really get me moving on the old treadmill) “Can’t (puff) you (huff) people (huff) JUST LEAVE ME ALONE FOR 20 DARN MINUTES??? CAN I PLEASE NOT BE A MOM FOR JUST A FEW MEASLY MINUTES??” (huffing, puffing going on now and I realize I need to be doing this MUCH more often, but I am not done yet, so I keep talking.) “Why don’t the three of you all go OUT in the OTHER room and figure out ALL ON YOUR OWN what to do!? I bet between the three of you, you don’t need me at all! NOW. GO. AWAY!” And I admit, Sophie looked, well, frightened and I am sure boyfriend and Noah did too, as they all got out of their ASAP. And I was so annoyed I ran an extra mile more than I intended partly from the annoyance, but mostly to NOT have to go back OUT THERE. So sure, I might be a bad mom, but hey I’ll be a thinner mom. I can live with that. heh.

Ready for a drink, and it’s only 10am….

Oh man, my ex is going to give me crap for that headline. But wait, he says he doesn’t read this, but then how come he always has a comment about some witty phrase of mine. Hmmm, points to ponder…(I added in the “witty” part, he has not now, nor in the past ever claimed I was witty. He is the funny one, not me.) K, moving on.

So, let me tell ya a lil’ bit about my morning so far. Well, in order to do that, I need to back track a wee bit. Lets go back about 2.5 weeks, shall we? (Right now imagine that the screen did that gaussian blur thing and you heard that music that means we are going back in time) Ok, so Best Boyfriend Ever just got home from his trip after Valentine’s Day. After the AMAZING blog entry about him, I had pretty high expectations about our weekend together, pretty high I tell you. So when we got into a bit of bicker fest Friday night and we went to bed all hurumphing and mad at each other but I didn’t worry too much cause, we had the WHOLE weekend. And it was a stupid fight, the kind that happens when two stubborn people fight and neither will give in. So whatever. We of course, as if on cue, make up Saturday morning and decide to do some running around. The whole time he keeps saying how he is so tired, he could use a nap, etc. We went to the book store and stuff and after some window shopping we get home. He says he wants a nap. So he goes to lay down, and I expect to see him in about a half hour because he never can actually sleep. We have big plans for margaritas that night and I am thinking, “Yes, you BEST rest up boy.” Except that two hours later he come groggily out of the bedroom. Now, the mom in me knows what is going on here. But the girlfriend in me that has not seen boyfriend in over a week and missed a good opportunity last night because of stubboness refuses to see it. So we go out to the Mexican restaurant and about half way through the margarita and the queso I can deny it no longer. “Baby, let’s go home. You’re sick.” He of course denied it, valiently tried to say he was fine, let’s finish our drinks and such. But. Then. We went home and he went to bed and got the worst flu in the history of flu I have ever seen. He has been sick since then, missed all of last week of work, has had fevers, a cough that would give a fourty year smoker a run for their money and been to the doctor twice with a follow up still scheduled. The man has been sick. SICK.

So last week I had sick boyfriend and was watching the kids for their dad while he went on a trip. I normally work full time those weeks, so I had extra running around, extra work and my kids. Then Noah gets sick with a stomach thing. He has had it on and off for a while, so the doctor wants him to see a specialist. Fine. Anything for The Dude. The specialist has four offices, right? FOUR. And one is literally 5 minutes from the house. 5 MINUTES. But guess which office has the ONLY opening in 2008? You got it, the furthest one away. Good times. So luckily boyfriend is passible for being alive this past Friday and he can pick up the Soph from school. I leave work early on Friday to get Noah out of school Friday (“Yay!” he says – yeah “Yay.” I say.) We schlep up to the doctor in north bumble, he gives us new medicine, we get a blood test ordered and we promptly get stuck in an hour and a half of traffic on the way home. That ended what I like to call, “Thank God THAT week is over!”

The kids went to their dad’s on Saturday and Sunday. I got them back yesterday because we wanted to keep our nomal schedules. (Bare – (bear? I never get that right) with me people, I am getting to today and my alcoholic tendencies, I PROMISE.) So as i am on my way home from work yesterday to pick up The Soph from afterschool care I get a call. Sophie says she is not feeling good. I am ten minutes away and will be there soon. Now, most of you are thinking, “Wow, poor kid, she got the crappy bug that is going around in that house! ANOTHER sick person!) But me? No. I AM the eternal optimist, AND I know my daughter. I imagine it was homework time and suddenly a “stomach ache” magically appered. I walk in and there she is looking all pitiful in front of her vocabulary she has to do. “Ah ah!” I think. “I was right!” And I secretly give myself a high five for knowing the dramatic prowess of my daughter and forgive these new people in her life for not knowing a con job when they see it. (Oh, she is GOOD people, I mean it! Watch out Meryll Streep, here comes Sophie!)

So I get her home, pick up Noah on the way from his Dad’s house who informs me he took NONE of his medicine over the weekend and HIS stomach is hurting. I just sigh, get them in the car, give the ex a dirty look for not making sure he took his medicine and drive away. (Now for the record, and to make sure I don’t get crap for this -even though he DOES NOT read this- let me say, he ALWAYS makes sure about medicine and stuff. He takes the kids to the doctor and dentist probably more than me, so Noah not taking his medicine is HIGHLY unusual) But hey, a free opportunity to give the ex the stink eye cannot be missed. (We joke now people, for real! As long as I understand I am NOT the funny one.) So we get home and Noah is complaining, Sophie is complaining. I give them both medicine, tell them they have 20 minutes to chill before homework and I go get on the treadmill in order not to run screaming down the streets like a loony bird because sometimes being a mom, is totally NOT like the brochures said it would be. WHERE is my funny neighbor that comes over for coffee? Where is the beautiful, dog-hairLESS living room set that we all hang out on and laugh together? Where is the goofy neighborhood kid that is always here, so annoying, yet charming too? Where is my pretty silk robe and slippers to wear in the morning that makes me look gorgeous? WHERE is my laugh track people?!? Anyway, so 20 minutes later I am ready to make dinner and deal with little sick people. Once Noah gets his medicine he begins to feel better, and Sophie, frankly is just draaamaz… So I get them both to do their homework despite Sophie’s protesting and miserableness. She is, like this, most nights for homework. I admit, I lacked a little sympathy.

We get all the homework done. Dinner gets made. Kids eat. I am helping Noah with a social studies assignment after dinner and when I come out of the office, Sophie is dead asleep on the couch. Still in denial, I figure she got up early, had a heckuva sleepover on Saturday at her dad’s and get her to bed. She says she still is not feeling well, but I figure she is fine, she just wants a bit more attention. I sit with her a bit, rub her head and she falls asleep. When I get Noah to bed later she calls out for me to put a trash can next to her bed. I am impressed. She is pulling all the stops out for this performance! I oblige my daughter and put the trash can next to her bed. I go downstairs, FINALLY ready to relax for the night. Boyfriend asks if she is ok. “Oh, she is FINE. FINE I tell you, just draaama.” And hour later we hear it. “Wow! She is really going all out for this!” I think as I go up the stairs. That REALLY sounds like she is throwing up! (Um, yes DENIAL is powerful indeed.) I got her all cleaned up, got her a bit more medicine, layed with her until she fell back to sleep and went downstairs. “So is she still faking?” boyfriend asks. “Not unless you can fake a bunch of vomit and a 101 fever.” Ah well. I tried to will it from happening. But alas, my will is no match for a God that thinks three sick people to take care of in two weeks time while trying to work full time is just too funny to pass up.

So, after getting up 5 times last night – the first wake up of the night for some actual puking, the next two for me thinking I heard her calling me, the next two for her ACTUALLY calling me, then getting the other one up for school, asking boyfriend to stay home a little longer this morning to stay with The Soph so I can run to work, then driving into work in a torrential rainstorm that almost killed me on the highway to get to my laptop so I can work from home, stopping on the way back for chicken broth and ginger ale and crossing my fingers that the check card goes through because I have exactly $8 until I get paid on Friday, I am officially READY for a drink (preferably vodka) at 10 am and POSI-LUTELY sure I don’t want to make any more of these little people for which I am responsible. Calgon….

This makes me happy.

One of my favorite songs in the world – about wanderlust and knowing your own grass is the greenest all at the same time.

Written by Jeff Moss

Well, I’d like to visit the moon
On a rocket ship high in the air
Yes, I’d like to visit the moon
But I don’t think I’d like to live there
Though I’d like to look down at the earth from above
I would miss all the places and people I love
So although I might like it for one afternoon
I don’t want to live on the moon

I’d like to travel under the sea
I could meet all the fish everywhere
Yes, I’d travel under the sea
But I don’t think I’d like to live there
I might stay for a day there if I had my wish
But there’s not much to do when your friends are all fish
And an oyster and clam aren’t real family
So I don’t want to live in the sea

I’d like to visit the jungle, hear the lions roar
Go back in time and meet a dinosaur
There’s so many strange places I’d like to be
But none of them permanently

So if I should visit the moon
Well, I’ll dance on a moonbeam and then
I will make a wish on a star
And I’ll wish I was home once again
Though I’d like to look down at the earth from above
I would miss all the places and people I love
So although I may go I’ll be coming home soon
‘Cause I don’t want to live on the moon
No, I don’t want to live on the moon

And if I could write one thing in my life that made me as happy as this song makes me, I would be eternally grateful to God – just sayin’…

magnets are in….

I haven’t gotten the personalized plates yet – kinda tight on fundage until next month. But yesterday I went to just get my tags transferred and the lady asked me how I like my car. I kid you not people, I GUSHED about this car like it was my first-born child. “It’s SO roomy! And it drives SO nice! And the color is just fantastic and the floor? Don’t even get me started! NO CARPET! I know!! I just vacuum the dirt and hair right up and VIOLA! clean again! And she hardly every cries and get this, she is already is sleeping through the night!!!” Don’t bother telling me, I’m a dork I know…

But the magnets came in! I have a few dogs that are not on there and I have some window decals too…but I think this is plenty for now. It may make me look crazy, and I certainly am not going to go unnoticed now, that is for sure, but it makes me soooo happy when I see my car. heh. I don’t even care if it gets me more pet portraits…ok, it would be nice if it does, but I still love all my doggies and flowers! (these pics are kinda ick, but I still have no decent digital camera – no offense Disney and your stellar Hannah Montanta versions – I am glad to have this, but still…)

To My Hunny Bunny…

Dear Hunny Bunny,

Happy Valentine’s Day! You are reading this from a different state because your stupid company decided they needed you to go on a stupid business trip this stupid week. And they currently have the wrath of Michelle because I misses you so much!! You left this past Tuesday at some god-awful early time in the morning and I tried to get up and walk you to the door, but I had been up most of the night with The Dude because he got sick in the middle of the night. I ran out to the store at 1 in the morning and when you heard me pulling a sweatshirt over my head you woke up and asked me if you could go for me. I knew you had to get up in a few short hours, so I told you not to be silly. But had you even remotely heard any indication in my voice, you would have gotten up and gone, no questions asked. Shortly after the alarm went off to wake you, I felt you kiss my cheek and whisper goodbye. I smiled and groggily told you to drive safe and be careful, because if you ever get hurt on me I will kill you. It makes sense in my head. Shut up. When the alarm went off again just a teeny tiny, not even close to long enough time later, for me to get up and get the kids ready for school and me ready for work, I sleepily walked into the bathroom. And I smiled. Cause even though we promised not to do anything for Valentine’s day, like the intelligent man you are, you ignored me – or if I remember your exact words, “Oh,I’m not falling into THAT trap!” (smart cookie! your mama didn’t raise no dummy!) There was a card and a bear and chocolates. Lucky you, you got to leave during the pms week!! The chocolates came in VERY handy! (I think I opened the box in the bathroom right after work that day, ate ALL of them at once, and I am not really sure if I even chewed.)

I think often about how lucky I am for our paths to have crossed and for us to have decided to give this a go. I am in awe everyday at how amazing a man you are. And I get that roller coaster feeling in my stomach when I have been away from you and I see you for the first time all day and when you kiss me I get all girlie and goofie and tingly and how did I luck out to be with such a handsome and sexy man that I am so incredibly attracted to AND that is my best friend on this planet?!? You are kind, and generous and so good to me I sometimes wonder, well, frankly if you are as intelligent as I think you are. I mean, I am no prize. Nothing worthy of all you give me. Clearly I should question your mental status. I leave cabinet doors open, never ever put lids on anything, I never put the cap on the toothpaste and will ignore that disgusting goopy mess it makes until you just buy another tube for yourself. Then you don’t say a word when I start using yours because I don’t want to clean off the top of mine because it is too gross. I can’t cook to save my life, I will never be the one to decide to clean the house first, I hate to do laundry and I still am amazed when I have looked all over for that black sweater I want to wear and get all pissed looking for it because I can’t remember where I put it and the reason I cannot find it is because you washed it and HUNG IT UP for me! I never thought to look in the closet. Sad, isn’t it? I am far too easy with my kids, I probably do too much for them, I probably let them get away with too much because I don’t think most things are a big deal. I tell you the same stories over and over and over again, and you just listen over and over again. And after one of my 20 minute sagas of how once, when I was 9 I made all these little clay dogs and made flyers to post all over the neighborhood and how my mom wouldn’t let me and I was ABSOLUTELY DEVASTATED that she would not support my artistic dreams, and how I could NOT understand how a mother could be so utterly cruel to her child… (not realizing of course, in my 9 year old wisdom that the flyers had a map of our house that would give every child molester in the neighborhood the route to a little girl’s house who loved puppies – I gotchya now Mom, we’re coolio. But back then? Pretty PO’d at ya.) And only after my dramatic ending where I put so much emphasis on the devastation, you smile and say, “I know. You’ve told me story before.” And when I say, “Why don’t you stop me???” You always smile and say, “Because I like to hear you tell your stories.”

So yes, I really have no idea how it is you put up with me. I am a too-liberal, too-idealist, overly-optimistic, far too easy going parent, won’t even get into the pms-ing part of the month I regularly put you through, not very neat and unorganized artist with what I am pretty sure is a fairly unhealthy obsession for painting dogs. (I mean really, who gets THAT GIDDY over painting dogs – it’s odd, I know. But admitting it is the first step.)

Oh. And then there are my kids. The patience you have with them, just blows me away. In the past two years you three have gotten to know each other s-l-o-w-l-y. And at times, I will admit, it irritated the crap out of me. WHY would you three not get closer FASTER! DO more with them! TALK to them. And ya know what? You three were the ones that did it your way. There was no winning over, there was no bribery, there was no fakeness, no trips to the toy store to quicken the process. You three figured out how we four all fit together over time. And now, looking back it was all you. You have never missed a school event, not a talent show, a Christmas show,an awards ceremony or a music concert. Since we began dating ‘seriously’ and the kids knew about you, you have not missed one single thing in their lives. And you never brought any attention to it, you never made a big deal about it, you just quietly and surely, over time, showed my children by your actions that you are someone they can count on and trust. You never once said you would do any of it, you just DID it. And I am not sure they noticed in the beginning, but I guarantee that they notice now. They call out your name when they get home, they ask when you are coming home, and I love when you walk in the door from work and they yell out hello to you in that sing-songy way they say your name. And being someone my children can count on? Well that, that hardly has words. And if it is possible, it makes me adore you even more. And Hunny Bunny? I adore you more than there are grains of sand on all the beaches on earth.

So we are not together today, on this made up greeting card holiday to make corporate America money, (but you did good to get me chocolate anyway) and that is ok. Because every day is a day I feel so loved, so MADLY IN LOVE with someone I feel like was hand picked for me to spend the rest of my life with, that I don’t need a special day to celebrate it. I celebrate it every day. There is no luckier girl in the world than me and I know it. You are, simply, the love of my life.

So Happy Valentine’s Day, Best Boyfriend Ever, I love you even more than painting dogs – and lord knows THAT’S sayin’ something.

Your Crazy Girlfriend

Bizarro world!

There must be something in the water. Y’all know what I did this weekend? Are ya ready? Mom, sit down. This is going to shock you and you could might fall down and hit your head. I cleaned. Yup. The whole dang house. Now, ok, Best Boyfriend Ever helped too. We done cleaned the whole house from top to bottom, every corner, ever floor. I know! How crazy is that?? And we relaxed after that. Yup. Went and got pizza and shared a pitcher of beer for lunch. That night? We watched two great movies. One was the Pursuit of Happyness – and people, I BAWLED my eyes out. Seriously, just cried through the whole thing. Even finally gave up trying to hide it from BBE. LOVE that movie.

Then, yesterday I finished off some paintings and got them in the mail and well, relaxed some more. I feel like the laziest person on the planet because I have not been painting very much lately- just working at the design job. I know I should just enjoy all this relaxing free time, because I know it will get busy again. But I get scared. SCARED. First housecleaning. What next?! Cooking! People, I STEAMED fresh veggies last night! Good lord, I might BAKE next! Can you imagine the repercussions on the children? A clean house, fresh laundry at all times, HEALTHY food each night followed by scrumptious home made baked goodies??!!! They might come to EXPECT me to be a GOOD mother ALL THE TIME! The madness has got to stop. It’s clearly time to think up a some time consuming painting project. Next thing you know I will be sewing! Or paying bills! On time!! And that? That is just not acceptable, people. I am pretty sure an me having an organized home is one of the signs of the apocalypse. If you see a bunch of white horses running by your window you can blame me and come on by for some homemade brownies in my nice clean house sitting next to the windows with the pretty hand-sewn chintz* curtain.

*I don’t even know what chintz is. Sorry mom.

The year of good mojo

Well, I have to say that 2008 has been rockin’ and rollin’ and if y’all need some extra good mojo, I am happy to send some your way, cause I got me mine in spades. In spades? Who talks like that? Where did that phrase come from? Really, should one use phrases that they have no idea where they come from? ‘Prolly not, but “off the chain” is the phrase that pays in my house now! “Hey mom! This mac and cheese rocks!” “Yeah, cause your mom is OFF THE CHAIN when it comes to boiling water and mixing in cheese powder!” Honestly, I simply cannot get enough of the eye rolls and “Mooooooms!” Seriously, if you are thinking of having one of these bundles of joy in your life? I simply cannot understate the awesomeness it is to make your kids cringe. More fun than a box of pop rocks! Children! God’s gift to us for getting through our own awkward years.

What? Whaaaat, people!? Think I am being a mean mama? I will dig up my stunning fourth grade school picture. Let me tell you people, possibly all my good fortune from 2008 alone is from the homliness that WAS ME that year. My neighbor, in a flash of what I can now only see as sadistic goodwill, convinced my mom that she should give me a perm. And that was the year I got railroad track braces after BREAKING OFF my two front teeth in a tragic HBO Rich Little Special Accident.** I am due people. Just sayin.’ And no, I doubt I will really put that picture of me up for all to see. So. Scary. And I thank God every night that he made me a tall girl. Cause back then? I was short…. and very roundish. With a mouthful of silver and a hairdo fit for a prize-winning show poodle. Oh the humanity.

So for reals, you need mojo? Let me know, cause I got it coming out my ears and I feel a little guilty, so I am happy to pass on the spades.

**Yes, broke them off. Freakish accident that is fit for another blog entry… Still have to get these damn fake teeth replaced every 8 years or so. DAMN YOU RICH LITTLE!