You know, 'Weeding the Garden' is an awesome metaphor... I'm pretty clever. Too bad my blog isn't going to be metaphoric. It is about exactly what the title states.
Yesterday, I took Chloè out with me to weed our vegetable garden. She gave herself the job, since I wouldn't actually let her weed, of taking a water gun and watering the bottom of the plants. We talked about all the plants and how nicely they were growing. We argued over why she couldn't have another popsicle. We debated on whether a three year old could maneuver her feet well enough to not crush plants. I'm sure you can figure out who was pro-side and who was con-side. Well, she let me know that if I didn't let her in the garden, she was going to pull out all my plants. I took that opportunity to explain to her precisely what would happen to a little three year old girl who did something like that. She decided that she should *not* in fact step in the garden. She proceeded to pull out grass on the side. No biggie...
Until...
As I'm trying to figure out if what I'm about to pull are weeds or radish sprouts I hear,
"Oh mommy, you do NOT need this big weed in your pretty food garden!" *YANK*
It was rosemary. So, I explained what it really was and we replanted it... for the 10th time.
She does that every. single. time. I'm starting to think it is on purpose.
Be honest... how many times per day do you visit myspace? I plead the 5th.
Would you rather do a tour of duty in Iraq or lose the use of all five senses? Dude...Iraq, no brainer. If I lost all 5 senses, it'd be like being dead anyway! Plus, you know the locals just love them some American female soldiers! Last I heard, locals got $500,000 if they got one to visit undisclosed locations! They LOVE us!
Would you rather be an insomniac or never be able to ingest caffeine again? I love my caffiene... but even *I* would give it up to sleep. I'm crabby even with my full 8. Can you imagine if I couldn't sleep? Plus, how boooooring.
Salted melon: yes or no? I'm fine with both. Just depends on me mood, matey.
What is the most embarrassing CD you own? I have a Roxette 'Joyride' CASSETTE TAPE. I'm not embarrassed of it, but there are those that think I'm wrong! (Future Sarah Update - I got rid of that 2 weekends ago (180409) during spring cleaning)
Were you honest in answering the last question? yes. Even to the smallest detail. I even mentioned it was a TAPE
Do all guys with British accents sound gay? No, just the fruity ones.
Describe the bag you carry everyday. Dark brown pocketbook type purse.
Describe its usual contents. cigs, lighters, receipts (LOTS of receipts) random change, wrappers, store cards, check cards, license, and breath spray.
How often do you eat out? Eh... with the family? Once a week, maybe. At work? I'm trying to cut back to zero, but it sometimes ends up being 3 times a week.
Describe an ordinary dinner that you cook at home. I like a good homecooked meal. Starch. Meat. Vegetables. So, dinner always fits into that standard... ALMOST always.
How many people are you in contact with from high school? A couple here and there.
How much sleep do you get on average? Not as much as I deserve, I can assure you that.
Would you rather get some sleep, or have some sex? Dude... sex all the way
Do you pluck, wax, shave or go au naturale? All but 'au naturale' - *vomit*
Do you wear your seatbelt? Yes. And a helmet. Body armor too if the weather isn't too muggy... or rainy... that shit rusts.
What is your most self destructive habit? Future Sarah Update - It moved out a little over month after this particular day. HIGH FIVE!!!
Would you say you spend too much time on Myspace? No. I can stop anytime I want.
Name a favorite song from the year you graduated high school. I have no idea.
Do you live close to your family? Yes, my parents are about 15 minutes away. And 2 of my siblings live a stone's throw away... literally... I've thrown the stones to check. (Note - Ian will actually be a stone's throw off in about a week.)
Do you keep secrets? Yup. That's why I know so many!! I know LOTS of seeeecrets!!! I jest... I'm about average... depends on if it's a secret or just gossip.
Is Elvis alive? According to the last census, there are several Elvises.
What is your favorite pair of shoes? My brown hooker boots!
Do you have to conform in order to fit in at work? I was hired as the firm jester... so no.
If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be? That's a really tough question! I think I would like to be able to do a year tour (living as a local) to several locations and then I'd choose.
Do you take time out for yourself? I TRY. But it is a little difficult what with the kids and all. There's no off switch with them and they seem to need constant care. ;-)
How old is your toothbrush? Older than it should be, I assure you.
Ever had dreams about your teeth breaking? No, but I've had the dream about them getting really loose and then falling out.
Why do you fill out every single survey that comes around???? This one "ultra-cool" person once said it was because I was so self-absorbed. I like to think I do it for YOU, the reader.
I kid, I do it because it's fun to me.
How often do you see your dentist? Way less than I should... But every time I go, I get great reviews!
When is bedtime? About 11:00 pm, or when I can no longer keep my eyes open.
How many credit cards do you have? I don't think we have any major ones.
Ever met someone famous?Who? Yes, William SHATNER! Also, the geek from Parker Lewis Can't Lose. Diamond Rio. Dusty Rhodes. I think I recall meeting Jeff Jarrett BRIEFLY. And there's a small number of other people I've met on TV now. OH! And I met one of the orginal astronauts, but alas, his name eludes me at the moment.
How long is your drive to work? It takes me about 10 minutes (15 with traffic), so maybe 7-8 miles.
Was this experience enjoyable, or a total waste of time? I loved it! Thanks Brandy!!
RULES: Once you've been tagged, you have to write a blog with six weird things/facts/habits about yourself. In the end, you have to pick six people to be tagged and list their names. Finally, you must leave a comment for them and tell them to read yours.
1. I am unfortunately competitive. More so than I let on. :-D
2. I really, really HATE talking on the phone.
3. I'm afraid of the dark AND scary movies.
4. I absolutely love getting emails.
5. 8 times out of 10, I'm cracking myself up... even if it's just with my own thoughts.
6. I've always thought it would really suck to have to raise teens taller than you...which is unfortunate for me as I'm 5'2"... the odds are not in my favor.
3. What are you listening to right now? The TV beside me.
4. What are the last 4 digits in your phone number? 6309 (heh)
5. What was the last thing you ate? Shoney's... yes, in its entirety
6. Last person you hugged? CoCo
7. How is the weather right now?. chilly, dusky
8. Who was the last person you talked to on the phone? Trish
9. The first thing you notice about the opposite sex? That they are opposite of me
10. Favorite Food? anything I make
11. Do you want children? yes, lucky for my kids ;-)
12. Are you Single? That depends... are you an intelligent male and not looking for someone to support you and your equally lazy secret new girlfriend? Over 30 AND able to refrain from smoking the reefer with 14 year old girls? (note to reader - Future Sarah changed this answer *wink*)
13. Ever get so drunk you don't remember the entire night? how would I know if I forgot it if I was so drunk I wasn't going to remember it?
14.. Hair color? dark auburn
15. Eye color? hazel
16. Do you wear eye contacts? yes and thank you for specifying which kind, as I do *not* wear elbow contacts.
17. Favorite day? depends on what's going on
18. Favorite Season? spuh-ring
19. Have you ever cried over a girl/guy? yes
20. Last Movie you Saw? I can NOT remember!!!!
29. What books are you reading? I can not remember the name of it!!! And I'm far too lazy to go upstairs and see
30. Piercings? yup
31. Favorite Movie(s)? far too many
32. Favorite football Team? WVU
33. What were you doing before filling this out? Reading Jenn's answers.
34. Any pets? yes, a lab mix (Timber) and a fish
35. AiM S/N? nada
36. Do you prefer dogs or cats? Dogs
38. Favorite Flower? i like most of them
40. Have you ever loved someone? Yes
41. Who would you like to see right now? There's lots of people I'd like to see whom I miss.
43. Have you ever fired a gun? yes, many many many times... military, you know
44. Do you like to travel by plane? Freaking LOVE it.
45. Right-handed or Left-handed? Left-handed
46. If you could go to any place right now where would you go? Metaphorically? I'm already there.
48. Are you missing someone? not really
49. Do you have a tattoo? no, sadly
50. Do you still watch cartoons on Saturday mornings? sometimes, but they aren't as good as they were when I was a kid.
51. ARE YOU HIDING SOMETHING FROM SOMEONE? uh... no.
52.WHAT IS THE SCREEN SAVER ON YOUR CELLPHONE? Why are you yelling at me?
53. WHAT IS THE WALLPAPER ON YOUR CELLPHONE? No, really, *why* are you yelling at me?
54. DID YOU GET ENOUGH SLEEP LAST NIGHT? yes... which is a good thing if you are going to yell at me all night.
55. FIRST THING YOU THOUGHT ABOUT THIS MORNING? I hope nobody yells at me today... and I'm going to sleep some more.
56. WHAT DO YOU HAVE HANDY AT YOUR BEDSIDE? contacts, my book, phone, fan, and electric heater... oh... and water.
57. GRILLED OR FRIED? grilled
59. WHAT MAKES YOU UNIQUE? Lots of things. I'm quite a character.
60. ARE YOU AFRAID OF THE DARK? sadly, YES.
61. FAVORITE HANGOUT? My house when it's clean. It has all the comforts of home.
62. 3 THINGS YOU CAN'T LIVE WITHOUT? mi familia, my wonderful but hectic job, and my own little personal retreats.
63. FIRST THING YOU WILL DO IF GIVEN 1 MILLION DOLLARS? Disa-fucking-ppear bitches!!!
65. WHAT ARE YOU AFRAID OF? The dark and most bugs.
66. ARE YOU A GIVER OR TAKER? I'm a Tiver. More giver than taker.
67. WHAT ARE YOUR NICKNAMES? Sarah, Pampered Booty, Booty X, and Sareeny
68. WHAT IS YOUR DAD'S MIDDLE NAME? MANsfield
69.WHAT IS UR MOTHER'S MIDDLE NAME? Ann
70. STUCK ON A DESERTED ISLAND & COULD ONLY BRING FOUR PEOPLE? My girls (as one unit), Martha, a male stripper, and then I'll hold a huge contest for the 4th wherein you prove how beneficial you'd be if I chose you.
71. FAVORITE T.V. COMMERCIAL? that moolatte commercial where the lady runs into the window blinds (I have to go with this one... it makes me laugh every damn time)
72. DO YOU HAVE A CELL PHONE? noooo... I hate the phone.
73. FIRST THING YOU'LL SAVE IN A FIRE? the girls (again, collectively)
74. Favorite color? the color of success
75. Things you always bring with you. cigs and purse
76. WHAT DID YOU WANNA BE WHEN YOU WERE A KID? yelling again, hmmm. I wanted to be a mega pop star.
77. WHAT DO YOU USUALLY DO WHEN THE CLOCK TURNS 12? IT DEPENDS ON WHICH 12:00 IT IS!!!!!
78. MSN S/N? DON'T USE IT!!!!!
79. WHO DO U WANT TO MEET? PEOPLE WHO CAN TYPE WITHOUT YELLING!!!!!!
80. WHAT DO U THINK ABOUT BEFORE YOU GO TO BED? Ahhhh... peace and quiet.
Well, I've been hyper busy at work (trials coming up) and at home (lots o' kids). I've been wanting to post about meeting Brandy!
I've known Brandy, via MySpace, for almost a year now. At all times, she seemed like someone I would love to know face-to-face. However, she lives in Kentucky and I live in WV. With my schedule and family, 4.5 hour drives are not something I can regularly make. We talked via MySpace a TON, we talked on Yahoo quite a bit too, once we even talked on the phone. I really felt like it was a small tragedy to not get to know her personally.
Two weekends ago, I got my chance!
The trip was on Sunday and I wasn'tgoing to get home until about 2 or 3 in the morning... and I had to work Monday... but to me, it was totally worth it to go anyway. I loaded up CoCo and CoCo-related items and made the long, looong trek there.
When we got there, I realized that 1. Lexington is confusing; and 2. Lexington was really trafficky because of the PPV. To add to that, it was piss-pouring the rain. I could NOT find her house. I called her number and we all decided that I would wait for her husband to show us the way. Meanwhile, I make jokes to myself about how Brandy was probably some huge 64 year old, 341 lbs., hairy molestor. In fact, at one point, a really beat up car pulled up and I thought, "There she is." Heh... it was above-described man... but NOT Brandy nor Brandy's husband.
Her husband shows up and I decide that we are pretty sure everything will be okay (I have never met someone I only knew through the internet before) because he had antique tags on his car. EASILY identifiable AND he couldn't be too awfully dangerous. Heh... I know, profiling like that'll really bite me in the butt one day. HA! We get to her house and it's really nice. I wasn't surprised, but I was relieved. For all I knew, she had a crack apartment, but only SAID she had a house. She offered me some coffee and then we all decided to go to dinner. We get travel mugs of coffee and head out. Near there, I realize a friend still has my check card AND all my cash. AWWWKWWWAAAAARD. I spend about 90 seconds trying to figure out how to break it to them I have no money and that it was indeed an accident and not predetermined. I decide I just have to tell them. They take it incredibly well... of course, that may be because they were planning on paying anyway, HA!
We get to this great place, I can't remember what it was called, and I accidently bring in my travel mug of coffee. I don't know why. Also, before I even got completely out of the car, Kel had already gotten CoCo out of the car, across the street, and under a covered porch (still raining). And CoCo didn't look like she was afraid of being slowly being skinned alive! The restaurant had a one-man band playing. He was kind of loud. And he did a tune or two... well, he got his cell phone out, put it up to the microphone and played a couple songs. I've never seen that done before, but I do come from the sticks. We ordered some of the best buffalo wings I've ever had. CoCo loved the wings too. We left the restaurant and our waitress (So, what are you ordering tonight, TIGER?) ran out to bring me Brandy's travel mug I'd forgotten. I was batting a thousand that night, let me tell YOU.
We then went to Blockbuster and rented a couple of movies to watch. The whole time, Brandy and Kel apologizing for not having something better planned. Clearly, they thought I came to see Lexington not Brandy. Brandy was so great with CoCo too. Most people ignore the kid or give polite banter and THEN ignore the kid. Not Brandy. She's exactly as she claims to be with children. Don't believe me? Well, you didn't see Viv's bedroom and playroom. Proof's in the puddin', people.
I had been worried about what would happen if it turned out we only liked each other online and NOT in person. Would it be the longest night of my life at her house or would it be the longest night of my life as I tried to find my way, walking, to the WWE show? I can honestly tell you that we never ever had an awkward or silent moment. We didn't talk like people who'd just met each other, either. We talked like great friends who hadn't seen each other in awhile (as opposed to never).
In short, Brandy is exactly who she is online, if not even warmer in person. Brandy looks exactly as she does in her pictures... she doesn't just post pictures she thinks make her look good while not looking like her at all. I could have EASILY picked her out of a crowd. She was DEFINITELY worth the 9 hour round trip and 3 hours of sleep before work the next day!
I played my first game just a little while ago. My face managed to stay ball-free!!!
My first game was everything I did NOT think it would be! *That's a good thing* I learned tons and tons of things!
Right field is not right. It's your military right. This is one of the IMPORTANT lessons I learned. HAHA!!!
While in the field, you move up or back, dependant on the hitter. That can be embarrassing if you go to home plate and see everyone move 7 miles forward. However, when you go to plate, you (or at least I) never see where everyone goes, so it doesn't matter.
Susan is a freaking awesome leader!!! She does everything... she never worries about it. She is understanding. She always smiles. She has fun... which makes me have fun. She's easygoing AND gets the job done. The way she explains things makes everything so easy without making you feel like a 'tard. There is a very good reason Susan is in charge. There isn't anyone who could do a better job.
I can NOT catch. I can, however, whisper "shitshitshitshitshitshitshit" and manage to whisper it loud enough for both teams to hear... even when I'm trying not to.
I can hit a ball on the first try. Well, let me explain... during THIS PARTICULAR GAME, I could do so. But, I can NOT aim the ball... nor can I not fling the bat in a manner that does not put the catcher in danger. I'm so bad at that, I stopped running to first one time to tell the catcher how sorry I was for almost hitting her... and then I ran... and then I was OUT. But that was okay because I can hit the ball. I think if you are really, really, really scared that the ball is going to hit your face then you can use a bat really well to deter said potential face damge. I had a 100% success rate on every first pitch. That is probably because I was so determined to keep the ball from hitting me. That may be because the ball was thrown easy. I really don't give a damn... I just am glad I can hit it. Now I just have to learn how NOT to hit the catcher with the flying torpedo that is my used bat.
This was a great game to start out my amazingly scary season. I know there are going to be times when I really hate it... but I am really, really glad none of them happened tonight.
So... in short. I had fun. My face is undamaged. I can bat... kinda. I still can NOT catch. The game is much more fun than I thought it would be!
Once upon a time, there was a nine year old girl who was invited to learn how to play baseball. The little girl was so happy because she really wanted to play with this person. He took her outside and told her she had to learn how to catch a ball first. He even had already bought her a special glove because she was left-handed.
He threw the ball. WHOA! He threw that ball FAST! The little girl dodged it. "DON'T DODGE THE BALL!" he said. "DON'T THROW IT AT MY FACE SO HARD!" she yelled back. He explained to her that this is how we play and that if you just throw up your glove you won't get hit. "Just. throw. up. your. glove."
Ball gets thrown again. *dodge!*
"I said NOT to dodge the ball!" "You're throwing it TOO hard!" "I'm not going to play with you if you are going to keep running from the ball."
*Repeat process*
"Look. Do NOT move. Stand there. When I throw the ball, you throw up your glove and catch it. It's that easy. DO. NOT. MOVE."
Ball thrown again. Little girl doesn't move. Little girl also doesn't get her glove up in time. Now she has a bloody nose.
"Go get cleaned up and get back out here. Now you know why you have to throw up your glove!" Little girl runs into the house, crying. That sucker HURT.
She comes back out and is told to put her glove back on. She doesn't want to play anymore. She's told she has to. She throws a big fit. She's pretty sure she's going to get hit in the face again. He tells her he doesn't play with crybabies and to get out there. She doesn't care. She wants to go inside. NO.
"You aren't going inside. You need to practice. Throw this ball straight up in the air and as it falls, throw up your glove and catch it. It isn't hard, stop being a crybaby about it. You sound like a dying cow."
He shows her how and she does it. "Throw it HIGHER. You have to throw it high because that's how it would be coming to you if someone hit it with a bat."
She just KNOWS she's going to get hit in the face again. He gets frustrated and tells her to keep practicing and goes inside. She practices for what seems like an eternity. She certainly does not want to learn baseball anymore. She goes inside and tells him she's done. He tells her she can't be and to get back out there. So she does. She wishes she could tell if he was looking out the window or not. After yet another eternity slothed by, she goes back in and just watches tv, he doesn't notice or just doesn't say anything.
A day or two later, she decides she can, in fact, 'throw up the glove' and asks him to play. He tells her she isn't ready and makes her go throw the ball up in the air and catch it for awhile.
This goes on for about a week, maybe a day or two less, before the little girl learns just not to ask him anymore. She never picked the glove back up and never had any desire whatsoever to play on any teams where the ball gets thrown. Kickball? No problem. Tennis? Serve it baby. Track? No balls no problem! Skiing? Rather break a leg than get hit in the face! Basketball? That ball's so large, it isn't getting past these forearms of fortitude. Dodge ball? OH HELL NO. Volleyball? Just so that thing can get spiked in her face?!? Are you kidding?
She got to the point where, if you threw something at her, she'd yell at you. "Don't throw shit at my face! I hate it!" Don't toss the remote... don't be all cute and flirty and wad up paper and throw it... and don't joke with no damn ball.
Twenty years later, I haven't picked up a bat. I haven't caught a baseball or softball. Of course, I've tossed kiddie balls with the kiddies... but I have been highly successful at not playing catch 'for real'. I have been moderately successful at getting out of dodgeball and volleyball. With dodgeball, you just take the damn hit as soon as you can. With volleyball, you just make sure you suck... which isn't too hard when you are afraid of the ball anyway.
Twenty years later, I've been through the military and all the training associated with it. I've been in drill sargent school. I've wrestled... been hit with chairs, gone through tables, taken difficult moves that have high potential to seriously hurt you. I'm actually descently athletic... not any type of 'allstar' athletic... but I can hold my own. I've been in more stressful situations than most and handled them all.
Twenty years later, I've grown to appreciate the humor of being told you sound like a 'dying cow' (although I've never used that phrase on my girls). However, countless people have felt my wrath for throwing things at me.
Well... something very unfortunate happened. a friend of mine wants to play on my firms's softball team. I put him on the team, and somehow, I got put on that team too. They were having a hard time getting enough people, so if I back out there probably won't be enough players. Greeeeaaaat.
Well, I decided that it's just plain dumb to not stay on a team on which I could very well have a ton of fun. I've got to get over it some time. Another twenty years of freaking out every time someone throws something at me that wouldn't even hurt if it hit me is just retarded if I can get over it.
So, I bought a bat and softball yesterday and got out two gloves. I practiced with a friend for awhile at my level, which is that of an 8 or 9 year old. It was all good until we started throwing it up in the air for me to look up and catch. THAT sucked. You have to look up... stare straight at the ball... THROW YOUR STUPID GLOVE UP... and catch it.
So, of course, I did *not* throw up my glove, but put down my head and ducked down.
And got hit in the freaking head with the ball.
So, what does an almost thirty year old do when that happens? Bursts into tears and goes upstairs to bed. It was just like being hit in the face all over again... minus the angry pitcher. Yesterday morning, I would have told you I remember everything from that fateful day in extreme detail. That wouldn't have been true... NOW I remember everything in extreme detail:
* There's the split second terror when you know you screwed up and there's no time to save yourself from the hit.
* There's the shock and pain that hits you at the exact same time as the ball.
* There's the hurt from getting hit coupled with the hurt of being hit.
* There's the embarrassment of getting hit in the head because you were too dumb to just throw up the stupid, stupid, stupid glove.
The tears came exactly as they did twenty years ago and there was NO FREAKING WAY I was going to go back out and throw that stupid ball straight up in the air and catch it. Of course, I wasn't told to do that... but when my friend kept telling me to come back, I honestly thought that was why. I wasn't coming back because I'm not nine anymore... I'm TWENTY-nine and I can finally say no.
But, I have to go back out and practice again. Not because anyone tells me I have to, but because my two games are on Tuesday and it's time to just get over it.
I was taking a shower with Chloe as we had no time for her standard 2.4 hour bubble bath and I accidently dropped a shampoo bottle on her back.
It scraped her up and bled.
I took a large chunk (not scratch, but chunk) out of the very top of my freaking ass as I stood up from comforting her. Stupid bath faucet. It could KILL somebody.
I was washing my hands in the bathroom after fixing Chloe's hair and somehow... SOMEWAY... I got my stupid ring finger from my right hand caught under the faucet of the sink. I had to freaking rip it out.
And it hurt.
Because of the intense wound care needed given to my freaking ass, I was late for work.
My car tried to tell me it didn't have any gas. I told it I was going to drive it anyway.
Martha will only be here for a little bit or not at all.
Now I have nobody to laugh with.
My ass hurts every freaking time I move.
Here's where I lost everything I just typed for no freaking reason other than the screen just went blank and I had to start over.
My ass is going to scab and hurt for a long time to come.
Here's where I lost everything AGAIN.
The stupid "tell us what you are listening to" feature isn't working.
The lunch dates are freaking COOL as HELL. Take today, for instance... I decided to take CoCo to the Middle Eastern buffet. I thought it would be neat for her to try something new. However, I had no idea HOW neat it would be.
As we are getting ready to walk in, she says, "MOMMY! Can you (s)mell dat?!" CoCo has what has to be the most sensitive nose in the world. She was smelling the aroma before I'd even opened the door. I don't know why I never took her there before. Of course she'd like it! They use all those herbs and spices so heavily, it would be like going to the park for her. We go in and head to the buffet. She has me pick her up and is sniffing so loudly, I was a bit afraid she'd snort food from the buffet trays right up her nose. She asked for a little bit of e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g from the buffet. I was thinking, "HOW COOL! She's going to try a taste of each and every thing!"
Nope.
She put each and every item, one by one, on her fork and sniffed them until she'd sniffed out every bit of moisture and they were nothing more than dust particles. As far as eating went, she really liked the creamy herbed pasta, the curried vegetables and chicken, the herbed chicken, the greek salad, cucumber sauce, and the spiced rice. Everything else I got her was for no other reason than sniffing satisfaction. I know you guys think I'm exaggerating, but I'm not. She literally had a thick smear of food on her nose and upper lip from smelling everything. She even smelled her pita bread and then used it as a napkin. She even smelled the food she'd gotten on her forearm.
We then head outside and walk back discussing how nice lunch smelled. We are silent for about 2 or 3 minutes when she says, "Mommy, wanna know what I mell now? I said, "What?"
So one of my children did something I never thought would happen. I don't have boys, so it never even occurred to me that I would EVER find myself in a situation as follows:
Outside, I had five children grouped around one of their own. One child, who was about to perform a stunt she will probably never EVER live down. A stunt that was so great, it's a given that it will be one of the greatest "remember when... " stories our kids will ever tell each other. All the children were excitedly talking over each other asking this one kid if she was really, REALLY going to do it? Each question was repeatedly answered with a very happy yes. I asked what was going on. I was told...
"She accepted a bet to eat a worm for $5.00."
WHAT?!?! I haven't seen THIS done since I myself was a kid. I was 100 positive that she was going to chicken out. She NEVER does stuff like THIS. But...
I was interested to see just how far she'd go. I didn't have anything to worry about, she's not the type to actually do it. She carefully chose her worm from a bucket of several worms all the kids had collected. Now, when I say 'carefully' I mean slowly... I really don't think any of us there at the time had enough information on earthworm-sushi to utilize in the 'careful selection' of the best of worms to devour. There were then several false starts. I knew it wasn't going to happen. I knew as soon as she felt the tickle at her lips, she'd chicken out.
She didn't even flinch at the tickling of her lips.
In .00028 seconds, that freaking worm was in her mouth, sliiiighly chewed, and down the ole hatch. And there she stood, with a very big smile on her face and hand outstretched for her five buckaroos.
Now, of all the children I have... the one who did it was the least likely to do something like that ever. Alaina. "Prissy, never plays outside unless forced, social butterfly, owner of boy toys who shower her with gifts" Alaina. THAT'S why I was so sure the bet wouldn't go down. THAT'S why I didn't interfere. THAT'S why it was so interesting to see just how far she'd go.
Immediately after Alaina sucks down her worm and all of us stare with open-mouthed silence... Ariel, with a dark look on her face, pipes up. Low-voiced and accusingly, she says, "You ate Elliot....*pause* at least I still have Charlie."
CoCo tells me that she too wants to eat a worm if I'll put it in her mouth for her. (She doesn't like to TOUCH them). I say no, and CoCo just continues to follow me asking over and over. The answer remained no. If the children insist on eating worms, they'll simply HAVE to put it in their OWN mouths.
Tessia and Duncan just stare. Even THEY wouldn't eat a worm.
It's wrong. It interferes with my social life. It is in the back of my mind while I work. I'm getting much better, but I still can't stop. I know she knows and I know she doesn't like it.
But she'll just have to get over it because I'm just not capable of that. Plus, I don't want to. She is just too fascinating to me. I have her site in my favorites and if it were at all possible to burn out a link, I would have already done it.
*a little off subject, because I'm a little writing machine today:*
CoCo just started preschool at my firm in the daycare my firm put on the first floor of our building. It is an absolutely wonderful place (save the current organic milk debate). Everything is so structured and so pleasant at the same time. Even the bathrooms have been designed for small children. EVERYTHING in there was built for little people. If I were to use the toilet in there, my knees would be at my ears. Washing my hands would mean bending over to knee level for me. Her preschool has stations every day. They start by singing the morning song and talk about every child's name. They have: * the dress up station; * the 'momhouse' station as Chloe calls it; * the music station; * the art station; * seat work station; and * the reading station.
I first must say that I absolutely LOVE the reading station. It has several bookshelves at toddler level and a freaking kick ASS toddler-sized couch, all of which are located in this little alcove with windows for walls with blinds installed which are only used for naptime. In fact, the entire front of the classroom is nothing but floor to ceiling windows. After breakfast, the preschoolers are put into small groups and they have to rotate the stations in 15 minute intervals. After they have rotated the stations and finished their lessons, they are then pretty much free to enjoy the stations for play. They then have circle time where their teachers have these AWESOME floor level seats so they can be with the children but not hurt their backs (they are picking kids up all day long, so they deserve it). Then there is lunch, followed by nap time, followed by outside time in the gated park attached, weather permitting. There is NO down time save for nap. There is NO TV. It's awesome.
Since I work for the firm who gives the daycare the space, I get a great discount. In fact, when I needed to get CoCo in that day care with less than 24 hours notice, my firm's inhouse PI and one of the partners made certain that happened because I am an employee.
Speaking of which...
Another great thing about this daycare is that our inhouse PI, who used to be be President Reagan's secret service agent, is incharge of security in our building. This means he is in charge of security of the daycare. Let me tell you, there is NO getting in that daycare without everyone who needs to know knowing. You have to buzz the center to get in, even if there's a tsunami outside. There is a way to get into my firm from the daycare, but the only person who can let you in the daycare from inside the firm is the director or the PI.
There is also one more benefit to this daycare, which puts us back on topic:
The secure realtime webcam!!!
I can sign on to the secure website and watch CoCo do everything she does, except of course bathroom time. I can watch her eat, do stations, play, nap, and play on the playground. And. I. do. If I am lucky enough to have work that doesn't have to be done on my computer, I've got CoCo pulled up. If I get my lunch and bring it back to the office, I pull CoCo up. I have her schedule memorized so I don't miss anything I want to see. When I come in early to work, while everyone else is socializing and having some coffee while watching TV in the kitchen, I'm watching CoCo eat breakfast. Other people listen to music while working or take their paperwork/laptops into the kitchen to work while watching TV... I stalk my daughter. And you want to know the wierdest part about it? My productivity has gone UP. I find that I get more things checked off my to-do list than I did before.
But, there is a downside. At the end of the day, *I* tell CoCo about her day. I wish I could have taped and then uploaded the end of her first day as I told her everything she did. You could actually watch her get more and more shocked and aggravated at the idea. She asked me, in shock and aggravation, "How you do dat?? How you see me?" So I told her and she said, "DOOOON'T SEEEEE MEEEE!"
Guys, it is so bad, I've actually told her that I would prefer her to play in certain areas in her classroom and on the playground because I can see her better there. Of course, she doesn't listen... but it has gotten so bad, I actually tell her this. I'm so addicted that, and Martha can attest to this, I've seen CoCo playing on the playground in ways I'd never let her because I deem it unsafe and Martha has had to convince me NOT to call and tell them that CoCo is currently doing something I'm not comfortable with.
Honestly, I really feel blessed to have such a great job with great people and a great firm who truly means it when they say they are family-oriented. This daycare is just one of so very many perks we get just in the family-oriented department. There are also so many other wonderful perks we get which are geared solely at making the firm members connected, such as social functions during the day and firm sports teams. Plus, we are involved in charities and community events. The building is maintained beautifully,with an open 3rd floor patio for grilling and a 2nd floor open-ceiling atrium. We have a gym we can use when we want. It is truly like working at home. I've had to bring my daughter in a couple of times for an hour or so and instead of people acting put out... they go out of their way to come see her and take her to their offices.
It is a big-city firm in a small-town city. And everything, save my discounted preschool, is free. The partners certainly didn't have to do any of it.
I guess I'm just a really lucky gal and so are all my girls because they get to enjoy all these perks right along side me AND I still get paid!!!
I was straightening up before going to bed with Chloe... meanwhile, she's playing with the thermometer. She tells me she's 106. She needs medicine juice or she'll get sick.
So, it's just Chloe' and I tonight. I've got Chloe' trying to force me to touch her bottom. I don't want to. She's telling me that air is 'the potty with mommy in it'. I don't wanna be in the potty. She says it is scary... I agree. She tells me I need to pull up her pants because they fell down by themselves. I disagree as I saw her drop her pants to do the potty play with me in the potty.
An American Idol preview comes on and I say, "You know what?" Chloe' says, "What?" I say, "I wish I could sing" She says, "But you can't. You are a loooooooooooooooooooser!"
After years of tortuous training, exhausting scientific and accelerated mathematics, I did it. Most didn't believe in me and nobody wrote me while I was in training, but I overcame. I have finally finished Space Camp and will soon be blasting off to worlds unknown.
Here's a picture of me in my issued and custom-made space suit. This is what we wear to work everyday. It gets kinda heavy. Fortunately, it has its own climate control, so I don't sweat much... except when they make us run.
Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Zoe. Zoe was a beautiful child. She had zillions of curls, a beautiful, wide-toothed smile, cheeks like rosey pillows, and a petite body. Yes, Zoe indeed looked every part of the child-princess and was adored by all who met her.
Recently, Princess Zoe had taken the ungraceful habit of telling her Queen Mum she had to go potty when she didn't want to do something or if she wanted attention. Queen Mum took her potty faithfully each and every time only to discover that Princess Zoe was simply making excuses.
One day, the Queen Mum was visiting with her dear friend Lady Martheeny. Princess Zoe kept rudely interrupting conversations and not listening. Queen Mum kept telling the princess to hush and not interrupt; they would be on their way momentarily. Princess Zoe told her mum that she had to go potty. But the Queen ignored her daughter for she was tired of dropping everything for the princess' false requests.
Princess Zoe persisted.
The Queen decided that today was the day she was going to start ignoring these silly requests. It was high time the princess learned to be polite and patient.
Sadly, today was also the day that Princess Zoe was telling the truth. The poor princess gave a sad little cry and proceed to pee approximately four gallons of princess pee on the parking lot. The Queen Mum was dismayed by this turn of events, but hoped that the princess had learned to only say she had to go potty when she actually had to go potty.
The Queen Mum doubted it, however, as the Princess really enjoyed her ride home naked.
My brother turned TWENTY-SIX yesterday!!! Why am I such a bad sister that I am just now posting this? Because yesterday was a very, very hectic day for me. But I *DID* call him... but he jumped off the phone with me so that he could go buy freaking lottery tickets.
Anywho, I've decided that I am going to post a list of interesting facts about my brother:
1. As a baby, Ian was so lazy that he had to be forcefed all his food.
2. As a toddler, Ian was able to shove an ENTIRE banana, whole, down his throat.
3. As a toddler, he once tried his banana gimmick with a breadstick. It did not end well.
4. As a kid, Ian had the following in his bedroom: a TV, an alarm clock radio, a nintendo, an armchair, a rock polisher, themed bedsheets, and his *own* dresser. I had two other siblings in my room and I shared a dresser AND a bed. That's about all that was in our room.
5. As a kid, Ian loved ALL. THINGS. WEATHER. To include, God help me, the Weather CHANNEL.
6. As a kid, Ian had me shave his head with a razor. We then went to the pool. Mom had made Ian promise to wear sunscreen on his head, which was so white it was blue. Ian agreed. When we got to the pool, I reminded him and he said, "I'm not putting that crap on my head." Ian then got sunpoisoning and his head blistered up like nothing I've ever seen in my entire 28 years.
7. Ian had to go to football practice with said blistered head.
8. That same summer, coming home from football practice, Ian got to be on the news for a storm that came through. He wore a baseball hat so no one saw his freaky blistered head.
9. Ian talked SO much to the news on his favorite subject, the weather, they cut his ass OFF.
10. At 16, Ian got his license AND a car. I wasn't allowed to get my license until I was 18 and MOVED OUT.
11. Ian has unusually large lips.
12. Ian picked the ABSOLUTE perfect person for him as a mate.
13. Ian used to make the best pot of candied spaghetti sauce known to man... of course, it was the ONLY pot of candied spaghetti sauce known to man.
14. Ian loves him some Emeril.
15. Ian is very close to reaching his dream of being very settled, crabby middle-aged guy who measures the fertilizer potency of his yard's soil.
16. Ian does NOT cook better than ME.
17. Ian is a great uncle.
18. Ian talks ALOT.
19. Ian never uses his blog, which ticks me off.
20. He always smells faintly of garlic and green peppers.
Today, I was perusing a blog by William Shatner Blues Explosion. I felt the room start to quiver and cloud up and I heard the wind-chimey noise; which can only mean one thing... flashback time.
The next thing I know, I am in front of St. Francis Hospital with my very new friend, Martha, as they are cutting the ribbon for the new emergency room and it is the year 2000. Now, I'm a big fan of Catholic hospitals, but not so much so that I'd go to every wing opening. I need more than that to bring two very small children, one being a screamer for 23 of every 24 hour cycle. That 'more' was finally getting to meet someone I obsessed over as a child. That someone was WILLIAM SHATNER. Yes the-Will-iam-Shat-ner. His friends call him Bill.
Well, we'd all been waiting for quite some time for Bill to do something other than sit in a chair while pointless people spoke about pointless (heh, to ME) things. As the part I did not come for drags on, Ariel, my cryer, begins to do what she does best... shriek like she's just been ripped from my womb and thrown in the snow while a 600 watt heatless bulb shines mere inches from her face and some smelly guy flicks her in the forehead. This makes the crowd... save my Martha... move in the same fashion as the Red Sea parting. Bill looks at me and gives me a sympathetic smile while I try to bounce the voice box out of Ariel. I was like this: "YAY! My childhood sweetheart (yeah, yeah, I know... only in my own head) feels sorry for me!!! Yeah, bitches that moved away from me so Bill wouldn't think it was *your* kid... you LOST!" (*insert here me doing the universal loser sign to every other person out there as Ariel smacks me repeatedly in the face*) -- GOD, I've got this Mom thing SO DOWN! ;)
Later, we all get to go in for coffee and snacks. I don't remember how exactly, but as you hit a certain part of the line, you either got Bill's new book or you didn't. Guess who didn't? Me. Guess who did? Martha. That meant that Martha got to go PERSONALLY meet Bill and get her book autographed. I was so happy, so disappointed, and so jealous all at the same time. But somebody does one of the nicest things that has ever been done for me. My Martha gives me her book and insists I go meet Bill. I KNEW she wanted it too but she was willing to put that all aside for me, who'd dragged her 2 infants to see the guy she'd loved so much on TV for so many years as a kid. I have to selfishly admit here that I really just HAD to have that book and that moment he signed that book. I really think I should have let her have the moment and enjoy it as she'd ACTUALLY won it. But she gave it up for ME and it was during a time I honestly needed something like that.
You are only going to have about one handful of people, long term like that... CHERISH THEM. If you've lost touch with them, REPAIR THAT.
So, my Ariel, my Alaina, and I got to meet my childhood obsession. I got to chat with him for about 30 seconds and then I'm ushered to the food section.
Later, I read the book... it was decent. From there on, whenever I was sad, scared, upset, freaked, angry... Martha would send me anything she found on the internet regarding William Shatner... one of which was a two-photograph "movie" of the clip of Captain Kirk screaming, "KHHHHHHHHAAAAAANNNN!!!!!"
So maybe this isn't a story about meeting a tv/movie star. Maybe this is a story of how blessed I am to have a wonderful friend like Martha.
THANKS MARTHA!!!!!!!!!
(writer's note four years later transferring her old blog to this site -- that book disappeared much to the author's dismay... but the memory is still alive and strong. She would do almost anything to have it back again.)
I now know the secret to invading earth, boring us to death. A few friends and I went to see War of the Worlds and then have dinner. I, although not a Tom Cruise fan (in the slightest), was actually looking forward to seeing it. I *may* have been the one to push for it.
Sorry guys.
I got ready for the big kidless night out with great friends... which is very, very rare... like once every couple of months...... or so.......... I even *showered and shaved*. I put forth EFFORT. I rushed the three girls off to the babysitter's. I stopped at Little Caesar's to get a $5 pizza for them because I didn't even have time to feed the babies, for *I* was headed to the movies. Unfortunately, the $5 pizza line was far to long and time was not a luxury for me. I then blast through Wendy's and quickly order, taking time only to roll my eyes as the girls each changed every single option on their kids' meals. Did I check to see if it was right? Not this time! Was it right when I sat the girls down at the babysitter's to eat? Nope. Did I feel bad? NOPE! I, you see, was in a hurry to watch evil aliens take over the WORLD!
I rush to the theater with five minutes to spare, only to see a line for tickets coming out of the door. We all walk up looking for the end of the line. It's on the sidewalk... no, it's on the drop-off lane in the road... no, it's... HOLY CRAP!!! It's half way down the parking lot!!! That's a legit 45 minute wait minimum if the ticket clerks have their game hats on. Fortunately, my friends got all the tickets when they arrived... far earlier than I did. There's nothing like going from deep depression because you know you are screwed to exhilaration because you've been saved.
We sprint past the food counter (Lord, I'm starved) and give our tickets to the ticket tearer (I know, they have a formal title... but that *is* what they do). We run inside and take one of the 16 seats in what is the equivalent of a single-wide trailer of movie theatres. We sit down and are soon treated to 54 minutes of previews. I wish I'd known that was the best part. I would have gotten up and got my tubby tummy some chips and cheese or something. Alas, I thought the best was yet to come.
Right out of the gate, I get a bit anxious of the quality of the movie. Tom plays a self-involved character who only cares about others once his needs are met; however, he just smiles waaay too much for someone of that nature. His son needs a couple smacks to the sac so that he can find out that his balls haven't dropped nearly as far as he thinks they have. I love the little girl who plays his daughter, but GEEZ... can you say TYPECAST?? She plays the exact same character in every single movie. She's far too mature and intelligent for her age... she has several neuroses... she always the most observant member of the group... every now and again, you'll get a glimpse into her as a child and not a miniature adult. This poor, poor character has seen far too many tragedies. I would have figured the death of Denzel Washington would have pushed her to the limit, but no. Turns out, not even watching earth's destruction phased her TOO badly.
Then the mess-up extravaganza began. I'll name only a few because I'd just hate to spoil the entire movie for you:
* All electronic equipment gets fried. EXCEPT for this one disposable camera and this other video camera. Oh and a tv news camera which films the electrical storm.
* This one guy keeps working on a car while the first American attacks take place. His city is literally falling apart and he just keeps working on that engine. Or so we are led to believe... some customer brings in his van literally moments after the first electrical storm. The mechanic asks Tom for advice as Tom heads out to see why nothing electronic works. Luckily for the mechanic... and Tom later... Tom not only immediately knows the problem without even looking at the van, but he's also right... AND the mechanic is up on his game enough to work on that while the rest of the entire community walks to the Town Square to watch the destruction of their roads and buildings, followed by a very large machine which destroys most of the town's population. Tom goes home makes his son grab some food, washes off the people dust from himself, and off the three go to steal the van. Now the mechanic not only doesn't want Tom to steal the van, but refuses to jump in as Tom begs him that they all only have 60 seconds to live. Honestly, if that were true, would you have really taken the time to wash off the people dust? You are just going to get dusty again... if not become dust yourself. Well Stupid Mechanic Man refuses to get in and Tom speeds away... but not before we all watch in Tom's rearview mirror the mechanic turn to dust. Stupid mechanic.
* The three get to Tom's ex-wife's house, who isn't there... which Tom already knew but acted shocked anyway. I mean really, even *I* heard her tell him they were going to her mom's house in Boston. He made a joke about it when she told him. In any case, they get inside and Tom throws a big fit about the choices of food (all condiments) his son packed. His son wittily says, "It's all the food you HAD." Oh that Tom! He didn't even buy food for his kids when they came to visit!! If that point hadn't been driven through your skull when the ex-wife checked the fridge and cabinets, it has been by now! So, instead of raiding the obviously well-furnished kitchen for food, Tom sees some bread and makes peanut butter sandwiches for his daughter (who reminds him she's allergic to peanuts. Since when? Since BIRTH. TOM'S A BAD DAD!!! WE GET THE PICTURE!!!) So, Tom's dumb for coming to the house in the first place and seriously unbelievably dumb for not opening the stupid fridge or cabinets for something better than peanut butter and bread... it's the little things we regular people notice, Hollywood. I know only us CRA-ZA-ZEES open cabinets and fridges looking for food when we are starving.
Other disappointments:
* We are given every reason to believe the son dies horribly. But he doesn't. (I didn't want the boy do die but COME ON!!! Don't show him legit dying and then have him save your life five minutes before the movie ends)
* Tim Robins dies the legit most boring death in movie history. I'm assuming that's why the daughter is so apathetic to it.
* Apparently, Tom's salary was so high that budget cuts had to be made in the alien costume department. They couldn't even afford TWO LEGS per creature... there were only about four creatures together at once ever... and that itself only happened once.
* If you are locked inside an oval cage with several other people and the cage falls hundreds of feet, you will be OKAY. Not even a scratch, baby.
* The military doesn't like old Hispanic men. A soldier let one die, but nearly gave his life to save Tom from being eaten by ... the machine... I have no idea why the machine was hungry, but it was. Good thing the soldier lived, because he was the only one in the whole cage who knew to shout, "Everybody down!!!" when Tom showed him the grenade clips in his hand (yes, Tom had the sense of mind AND resources to dump and activate two grenades while trying not to be eaten). I don't know which is worse: Racist Soldier = only knowledgable person about grenades OR Tom = super multi-tasker.
* 10 million years of planning this invasion and the aliens never, ever checked to see if they could actually SURVIVE on our planet. HOW do you miss that one? HONESTLY, you think that item would have been on the checklist.... somewhere.
There's more, but I'll stop there. It was long. It was boring. It hurt my head. I braided almost the entire left side of my head in small braids I was so bored.
I had to be resuscitated SEVEN times.
I kept wanting to ask Tom what the hell was going on. Why was it this way or that way? Did he even READ the script first? Was the payday THAT ginormous?
I already know what he would say.
"You will find all your answers in Scientology, my friend."
So, I finally got my Mother's Day gift the other day. On the *real* Mother's Day, I received a bunch of canning jars and a promise note that I would later receive the canner of my dreams. I've always wanted to can but never had the tools.
Now, baby, I DO!!!!
Unfortunately,
After reading the novel (100 pages) that comes with a 23 quart pressure canner, I have discovered that I will die. I had no idea that I was not only getting the canner of my dreams but also a weapon of mass destruction. Once I seal that lid and turn on the heat... it's GO TIME. People have been canning and pressure cooking for almost two centuries. Why am I just now finding out how death-hungry these things really are? I really think I'd be safer if I were to drunkenly clean the trigger of a fully loaded gun that I'd unsafely pointed to my head as I cleaned.
So now, I'm a little more picky about the recipes I want to can. When I first opened the canner box, I was nearly tripping over myself at 12:30 am to go grab something... ANYTHING... and can it. When I realized that I could not get the lid back on without trying to translate the hieroglyphics on the pot and lid, I decided that I probably should take the 4 extra hours needed to read the instruction manual. Well, after finding out that even *I*, a non-betting woman, would mortgage the house to put down on the sure thing that is my imminent and probably very painful death, now I don't know what to can. I have tried two salsa recipes since I decided I was going to do this and I deem neither death-worthy. I want to do pickles, but the only way to find out if the recipe works is to CAN IT... I'd never know if it were death-worthy. Regular old vegetables seem too plain to die for. Soups are a good idea, and I'm really good at making soups....... but........ honestly, I just don't want to die.
Here are a few (very few) ways I could die, according to my manual (and I'm just scraping the tip of the iceberg here):
1. If you do not peer through some hole in the lid, you will never know it was clogged until you DIE. Understandable. It *is* a pressure cooker.
2. You must check the pot and lid in its entirety for nicks and scratches. Otherwise, you will never know about these weak spots until the pot explodes and you DIE. The damn thing cost almost $100, a mere nick or scratch will cause an explosion??? I could have bought TONS of already canned goods for $100 and had enough change to buy and make labels so I could say I did the canning myself!!!
3. Take your pound gauge to your local Cooperative Extension Service Office every three years to verify its accuracy or you will DIE. My local who... wha? I've never heard of this office! Besides, I can't even remember to change the auto oil every three months... I laugh, HEARTILY, at this three YEARS thing. Maybe, since they are so 'cooperative', they'll come to ME.
4. Never fill the 23 quart pot over 1/2 way full with any soups or you will DIE!!!! Does anyone besides me have little to no desire to make more than 11.5 quarts of the same type of soup anyway? And if I did anyway, I'd die? I'm perfectly happy with just 11.3 quarts... I'm giving myself a .2 safety gap! That said... WHY EFFING SELL A 23 QUART POT YOU CAN'T MAKE 23 QUARTS IN???
5. Never fill the 23 quart pot over 2/3 full with any other food of any kind because that will result in explosions and you will DIE. You know, again... it's a 23 quart pot. 15.3 quarts of food is, to ME, a rather excessive amount of food to make all at once. Yeah, yeah, you can bulk foods. But I'm canning for my family, not the food pantry. NONETHELESS, I must point out number 4... which says I can't even do 1/2 way. BUT IF I DO ANYWAY... stop at 2/3... or I will for real die.
6. Never ever EVER cook apples, rice, or frothy ANYTHING in your pressure cooker or it will clog one of the very important lid holes and you will DIE. So much for every freaking pressure cooking recipe I've fucking found so far. Should you ever get word that I died tragically while making 15.4 quarts of apple, rice, and potato pudding in my pressure cooker... just know that I decided life was too hard to bare. I was informed and I KNEW what I was doing. It's how I wanted to go.
7. Watch the pound gauge to make sure the pressure doesn't get to explosion levels or it WILL explode and you WILL die. EXCUSE ME??? Per explicit official direction, I'm not coming NEAR the fucking thing once I get it started! YOU check the damn canner! This is not fair... LOSE/LOSE here.
8. Just because the pot lid feels like it is sealed does not mean it is actually sealed. Run your finger around the rim and scan the lid and pot to verify that all of your hieroglyphics are mated to their counterparts or the lid will fly off and sever your head right from your body... and, of course, you will DIE. No wonder the mortality rate for pioneers was so high.
9. Remember to immediately remove your pressure canner off of the heat source and allow pot to cool exactly 4 hours, 33 minutes, and 57 seconds. Otherwise, the contents will still be hot and steam will still be flowing and you will get burned and you will DIE. That bitch is staying right where it will be for approximately 2 days before I even bust out my Egyptian hieroglyphics translator book. You know what? Nevermind... archaeologists from 2846 can enjoy my pickled corn should they deem it safe by then to remove the pressure lid. I wash my hands of this.
10. NEVER quick-cool your canner. It will explode and everyone on your block will DIE. My food is good, but it's not risk-exploding-yourself good. Seriously, I'm really not THAT great in the kitchen. My food is "I haven't eaten a bite in six hours" at best.
FINALLY!! I have a couple free moments to write the long-anticipated blog epic that is Chloe’s third birthday party. I wanted to have this up before this past weekend; however, EVERYBODY THINKS I BREATHE TO SERVE THEM!!!! Of course, the majority of the people who think this are children, so they’re kinda right. Nonetheless, some free time would be nice... the whole purpose of this blog was to have something for myself, not yet another item to be piled up on the back burner.Anyway, that’s a topic for another entry. Allow me to get back on track.
***BOOK COVER BRIEF***
There were 19 children and 21 adults present at this party for a total of 40 guests. Now that’s a large, LARGE amount of people for a three year old’s birthday. However, how lucky for me that there was an average of a little bit more than 1 adult per child. Well, I’m here to tell you that just because the math works out that way doesn’t mean that it is true. Besides me, 10 adults helped with the party. Only FIVE of those adults that helped even brought children. Which means that six adults with children sat ON THEIR ASSES. There were four uninvited children and I’ll bet you can not guess which adults brought them. If you said anyone from the Stupid Six group, you are CORRECT! The ten adults and I did everything from helping run the games; cook, serve, and clean the food mess; keep children from killing themselves; and try to keep some of the children from pillaging the loot from present time. The ten adults that helped did far, far, far more than they ever needed to do... as you will see as you read on.
***Begin story***
I decided to throw Chloe a Double Dare party. Some of you may remember the Double Dare show on Nickelodeon with our favorite host, Marc Summers. I themed the party in bright orange and neon green. Just so you know... that apparently isn’t a popular color combo. Start shopping early if you are as dumb as me and decide to throw this party. The day before the party, I did the house cleaning thing so that I could spend the party DAY focusing on setting up the obstacle course, cooking, decorating, cake baking, AND (heaven forbid) spending time with Chloe as her party was on her legit birthday. Well, something horrible happened to my pregnant sister-in-law, Debra, and she ended up in the hospital the night before the party. On party day, I went to get Debra’s mother to relieve my brother, Ian, from his night-long shift at the hospital and I took their two kids to stay with me. Also, I sat with Ian for awhile and talked about stuff... he was pretty damn stressed and even more tired, if possible. I get home five hours before the party and have no food, no decorations, no cake made, and no obstacle course. Plus, I now have five children. What to do? What to do? I call my sister from across the street. She, unfortunately, can’t come over until the roofers are done with her house. Meanwhile, I start cooking. I start gather decorations. I start planning out the obstacle course to be built later. I start worrying about this damn cake I’d planned to make (it was mighty impressive). I realize that I’m going to have to start dropping items off my list (ie - 8 layer dark chocolate and white cake with slime icing). I call around to several bakeries, as does my sister. We are told that we not only can’t get a decorated cake (I JUST wanted splats of orange and green slime looking crap on it... not even words), but that they didn’t have ANY cakes that weren’t iced that I could take and do myself. Also, ALLLLL the bakers in the entire Kanawha Valley quit baking AND WENT HOME at around 1pm. Yep, each and every one of them. So, Margaret decided that we should get a stupid pre-decorated cake and scrape off the decorations and redo it. At first, I said HELL NO. But, as I realized it was that or nothing, I changed my mind. So, when Margo came over... that’s what we did. Can you say GHETTO? We also get the food table, obstacle course and yard party-ready.
So, guests arrive in between 5pm and 5:30. As the guests arrive, I’m noting that there are four children and one adult I did NOT invite. Three of those children and that one adult were not invited FOR A REASON. The other child was more than welcome to tag along, I like that child and I at least got a call from the adult bringing her an hour before the party. However, as I’m on limited funds, I’d very carefully made the right amount of treat bags, plus the one obligatory extra. Not FOUR extra... ONE extra. Obviously, my three will have to do without treat bags. We all wait for the last two INVITED children before starting the Double Dare. Three of the four uninvited children are really put-out about this and start trying to run the obstacle course. The ring leader is this four year old girl (turned four LAST MONTH), whom I’ll call Attila, as she looks like a very obese EIGHT year old and only grunts... no words. I swear to you that I’m not making this up... I have witnesses. I have pictures. However, the pictures I will only post if enough people want to see. Why? I simply am not capable of posting the pictures without some really smart-ass remarks. Plus, I don’t know if my server will be able to handle the weight.
ARGH!!! See?? I can’t help myself. That comment was simply unnecessary.
I try to get their mother (you’ll be just shocked to learn that these three children are siblings) to take care of her kids. She makes some offhanded attempt... but she’s just too busy drinking all the beer. YES, I had beer at a three-year old’s party!!! First, there was only enough for a social drink or two among the adults. Second, as you’ll find out as you keep reading... I deserved the beer. I also deserved a gun to the head, but the selfish adults refused to oblige... they were too busy ignoring their bad, bad children.
I tried to physically move the 4 year old ring leader. Unfortunately, I legit was unable to do so. I’m not a weak person, ya know? I do professional wrestling... I chase after 1 to 5 children at ALL times. I do all the work around the house, regardless of how hard it will be. But I could NOT move this child. Imagine trying to push your house just a foot or two to the left. That’s about what I was trying to do. Anyway...The two long-awaited children arrive and we start the festivities. The obstacle course was a hit... but very difficult to run. Why? Well, I had the helpFUL adults each running a station of the course. Then there was me trying to keep the children in their respective teams. Plus, Attila and her clan could NOT grasp the concept of waiting your turn. I had to throw my poor, already beaten down body in front of Attila to keep her from pushing down the other kids as she tried to rush the course before her turn. At the end of the timed course, the winners got a special surprise... Which resulted in a slime fight
Now we all get to eat. I run around grilling my special hamburgers (WHY did I even take the time to make them... why didn’t I just make normal ones??) and footlongs. Plus, I had chips, hotdog chili (homemade again... wasn’t *I* an idiot?) Also, another mom brought some deviled eggs and some kind of potato casserole. Plus, I had laid out all the appropriate hotdog and hamburger toppings. Silly me had only made enough for people to enjoy socially, not for a feast. Apparently, there was a big mis-communication between me and the uninvited guests and a couple of the invited ones. Evidently, I somehow gave the impression before the party that I would be running the equivalent of a food pantry for the homeless. When the food came, most of the adults literally RUSHED the table to get food. Kids were shoved out of the way, I couldn’t get anymore food to the table, and it was one of the very few times I saw Uninvited Girl get up out of her chair... and no, it wasn’t to feed her children... just herself and her man. Thankfully, one of the moms decided to be the Food Nazi. She made all the adults take a seat and wait while SHE served the children and I got the rest of the food grilled. She then allowed the adults to come get food. By the time I got done grilling and the grilling stuff back in the house. Every last morsel of food save ONE hotdog the Food Nazi refused to give out as she was saving for me was gone. Plus, I had two parents (who helped with NOTHING) complain about there not being enough food.
Finally, it is present time. Hurricane Chloe rips into each and every one as though she were trying to destroy them.
Now, I have five children, the oldest 2 both being 7 years old. Therefore, I think I’m safe to assume that I know how to run a child’s birthday party. I think I’m also experienced enough to know that the adults should keep their children from attempting to open the presents NOR should they sit back and watch me wrestle the new toys and clothes from their children as they try to run away with them. Did ONE adult whose child/children were doing this try to stop them?? Nope. Did they all see me trying? Yep. In fact Attila rushed the table so many times, I honestly thought about trying to find a tranquilizer gun... you know, the type used for knocking out gorillas. Again, I pushed the cement wall named Attila several, several, several times to get her from literally being mere centimeters from Chloe trying to grab the gifts out of the gift bags before Chloe. Her mom never budged to help. Meanwhile, as I’m trying to enjoy my daughter opening presents on her first birthday that she realizes what is going on... Attila’s brother grabs the cake. I literally catch it as it is headed for the grass. And, sadly, this wasn’t the first time that night I saved my daughter’s birthday cake from the grass because of Attila’s brother. Lastly, it is cake time. Thank GOD it is cake time. We all sing happy birthday. We cut the cake. We serve the cake. Chloe refuses to allow us to do the birthday tradition of the first piece of cake being smooshed in her face... so we do it to her little boyfriend... by the way both of Chloe’s male friends that adore her are at the party... aaaaaawkward!!!! Or would have been had she been turning 15 or so. Chloe shows us why we celebrate her. You can tell she knows she deserves it!:
As people leave, I either hear that it was a great party or why someone thought it sucked. Of course, those that helped thought it was a great party and those that sat on their asses had at least one negative thing to say about it. The last guests left at 11:30pm... from a 3 year old's birthday party. 11:30pm. 11... 3o... P... M.
Here is where I’ll add a few interesting incidents that happened at the party:
1. Attila’s mom asks if she can use my bathtub to wash her kids. No biggie... but her children were covered... COVERED in dirt and filth long before they ever walked through my gate. But hell, you want to save YOUR soap, water, and towels and use mine??? Fine, whatever gets those kids scraped off. I know their mom wouldn’t have bathed them unless it was going to happen here. I wish I’d have taken a picture of the dirt ring that woman left in my bathtub. I would have posted it here.
2. I made Attila’s mom get up off her ass and go get her son, who was trying to get out of the gate. She gets up and grabs him and then stumbles. Now, if you or I stumble, we are going to catch ourselves, yes? She crumbles her body to the ground and lays with her FACE IN THE DIRT. I do not lie. She lays there long enough for all of us adults around her to get uncomfortable as we wait for her to get up. Her stumble was one that, unless she had a heart attack on her way down, she shouldn’t have even had a knee on the ground. I, stupidly, reach out my hand as a courtesy gesture to let her know that it is time to get up. She grabs my forearms and puts all her weight on me trying to hoist herself up. I, being approximately 100 lbs inferior to her, start to crumble down myself. Now, *I*, unlike her, do NOT want to fall to the ground. However, try as I can as I slowly go down, I cannot pry her fingers off my forearm. I could not twist my arm enough to slip out of her grip. I could do nothing but try to hoist her up. One of the mothers at the party told her husband to help me as “she’s going down too!!” He gets on the other side and we both struggle to get this woman up so that she will free me from her clutches of death. Meanwhile, her husband is sitting in his chair telling her to just get up... HE knows what's going on. I should have taken his lead. She lets go and then lifts up her arm for either the husband of my friend or me to put over my shoulders and help her to her chair. FUCK THAT!!! Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice and my knees will break. Both the husband and I just stand there as though we don’t know what she wants. Her own hubby says, “Just sit down.” She then walks, quite well mind you, to her chair.
3. This woman’s son comes up to her near the end of the party and motions (he doesn’t speak) that his diaper needs changed. She tells him she’ll do it later... even though we can all smell the shit coming from this poor dude. A few moments later, someone comes out with her son and tells her to change his diaper because he now has liquid shit running down his legs. She obliges. After everyone is gone, Chloe is in the playroom with some of her new toys (I wouldn’t let her take any of them out of their boxes until the bad kids were all gone.) I realize that I smell shit in there. I make Chloe get up and she is sitting on a pile of POO!!! Not her own pile, mind you, but it were as though she had sat outside on a pile of dog poo... except it wasn’t dog poo. We all knew where the crap came from. I get her out and cleaned off and head to the playroom and clean up that pile. Guess what? There’s poo on toys too. Sure enough... I ended up throwing away two large trash bags of toys...NICE toys, not the crappy ones, because they were covered in shit. I also was on my hands and knees scrubbing 2 actual piles of poo off the floor. Later, after I think I’ve successfully removed all biohazards from my children’s playroom, I note that I STILL SMELL SHIT. Sure enough, behind one of the toy bins, there is a LARGE, and I mean LARGE pile of poo... which has now acquired two flies. I spray about ½ a bottle of carpet cleaner on the pile and the flies on the pile and clean up. Blah.
I effing hate my life. I will NEVER again invite ANYONE out of sympathy... or allow people to crash a party just because they have it hard in life. Turns out 7 times out of 10, they earned it.
For all of you stay-at-home moms out there that insist on staying home to "be with your kids" and then do so little with your kids that their behavior relects the fact they know NOTHING of how to act around people nor can they talk... GET UP OFF YOUR BUTTS AND DO SOMETHING!! Either get a job and let a professional daycare pick up your slack OR at least run after them at the occasional function they go to OR actually do what you claim to be staying home for. Preferably the latter. The stay at home mother is the central figure in a family's life. Everything good and/or bad reflects off of YOU and the effort you use.
I SWEAR I'm working on an AMAZING blog entry. Until then, here is this piece of crap:
Welcome to the NEW edition of getting to know your friends. Okay here's what you're supposed to do, and try not to be lame and spoil the fun! Just copy (not forward) this entire e-mail and paste into a new e-mail that you can send. Change all the answers so that they apply to you. Then send this to a whole bunch of people you know, INCLUDING the person that sent it to you. Some of you may get this several times. That means you have lots of friends.
1.What is your full name? Sarah *edited for confidentiality* Wright
2. What color pants are you wearing? Light blue pj pants with clouds all over them
3.What are you listening to right now? Kids and TV
4. What was the last thing you ate? Spinach and cheese quesadillas with salsa and homemade guacamole.
5.Do you wish on stars? Of course, duh.
6. If you were a crayon, what color would you be? hot pink!
7.How is the weather right now? The wind is blowing, the sky is overcast, and we are waiting for the big storm.
8.Last person you spoke to on the phone? My Martha
9.Do you like the person who sent this to you? Of course
10. How old are you today? Today? 28 years, 2 months, 2 weeks, and 2 days.
11.Favorite drinks? coffee, water, beer.
12. Favorite sport? To PLAY, right? I like wrestling, I like TO PLAY football, any sport really where you get chased or get to do the chasing. HOW FUN!!!!
13. Hair color? Intense Auburn, according to the box
14. Do you wear contacts? Yes, but someday, I hope not to.
15.Siblings? Yes
16. Favorite month? October. My birthday, October FIRST, starts the holiday season. Plus the world is beautiful, the weather is kind, and I get that wonderful nesting for the winter feeling. I bake and bake. This year, I will also can and can! Once again I say, HOW FUN!!!!!
17. Favorite food? Most everything I cook. Not because I find my cooking to be *that* superior to anyone else's, just that I know what to put in my food that will make me and my family (save Alaina) happy!
18. What was the last movie you saw? The Grudge
19. Favorite day of the year? Fall through Christmas! I know that's not a "DAY", but that's my answer.
20. What do you do to vent anger? Be mean and yell. I'm slightly confrontational... or so I'm told........... by those who DARE.
21. What was your favorite toy as a child? My electric typewriter and my 10 speed! Oh, and my cabbage patch dolls, Duncan and Jessica... God rest their souls.
22. Hugs or kisses? kisses
23. Do you want your friends to e-mail you back? Of course, what a silly question.
24. Who is most likely to respond? Anyone who fears my wrath.
25. Who is least likely to respond? The dead.
26. When was the last time you cried? I kill, not cry.
27.What is under your bed? a legit sword... oddly enough
28. Who is the friend you have had the longest? With whom I still associate? MY MARTHA!!!!!
29. What did you do last night? I made the quesadillas and guacamole with friends, drank us some beer, enjoyed my brother and his wife stopping by (good to see you OUT of the hospital, Deb!! Try to stay out of there for at least 4 more weeks),
30. What are you afraid of? Bugs of almost any kind. They make me nauseous and I HATE that feeling. Plus, they might jump on my FACE!!!
31. Plain, buttered or salted popcorn? I'm not a big popcorn fan. Cheesy popcorn and caramel popcorn are okay, but those weren't choices and I don't care enough about popcorn to answer anyway.
32. Favorite car? Durango
33. Favorite flower? Any kind given to me because someone loves me. I get an overabundance of dandelions and clover flowers... so probably those!
34. Number of keys on your key ring? Oh honey... I'm not all that good at the counting thing.
35. How many years at your current job? About 2 with the effing wrestling company (MISS YOU, PROFESSIONAL WORLD!) and 7 years and 5 months as Mommy.
36. Favorite day of the week? Any day that the family can be together as A FAMILY and not in the same house doing different things. I really don't care on which day that falls.
37. What did you do on your last birthday? I really don't want to talk about my birthday from last year. ::disappointment::
38. How many cities have you lived in? In order: Wheeling, South Charleston, St. Albans, St. Louis (Missouri), San Antonio (Texas), Cross Lanes, and Charleston.
39. What popular expression best fits your personality? I got nothin. Evidently, I'm boring.
amused 
awake 
grateful 
determined
cranky 
indescribable 
devious
accomplished 
Guess who did? Martha.
That meant that Martha got to go PERSONALLY meet Bill and get her book autographed. I was so happy, so disappointed, and so jealous all at the same time. But somebody does one of the nicest things that has ever been done for me. My Martha 
gives me her book and insists I go meet Bill. I KNEW she wanted it too but she was willing to put that all aside for me, who'd dragged her 2 infants to see the guy she'd loved so much on TV for so many years as a kid. I have to selfishly admit here that I really just HAD to have that book and that moment he signed that book. I really think I should have let her have the moment and enjoy it as she'd ACTUALLY won it. But she gave it up for ME and it was during a time I honestly needed something like that. 
confused
scared
blank