Thursday, April 28, 2011

Welcome home!

Ok, in order to help me keep my sanity (and sense of humor), I must share this afternoon's "event". I arrived home from work, and upon entering the house realized how badly I had to pee. I ran into the downstairs bathroom, where I was greeted by a fairly unpleasant situation in the bowl. I shouted some words of dismay to my son, who was having some alone time with the PS3 in the man cave basement. I then flew up the stairs to find a more suitable landing for myself.

When I came back downstairs, I made some further comments to my son about the gifts he had left. He didn't say too much of anything at first, but then suddenly mentioned that he didn't think he'd pooped. I expressed some concern over his uncertainty. I questioned how he thought that could happen without his noticing. My initial glimpse had shown that the "moist butt wipes" had been used (tmi...I know, but relevant to the tale). Since the boy is not usually a fan of those, I inquired further...nope, wasn't him. "Um, but you did use the bathroom? And didn't notice...?" Yikes!

So the culprit was someone who had left AFTER me this morning, and it really doesn't matter who. I mean shit happens, right? Plus, I have already learned that the other adult who lives here is not a magician with a toilet plunger!

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

If you give a mom a minute...

Those of you who have read, If You Give a Mouse a Cookie, will be able to fully appreciate what happens when I have some down time. If you haven't read the book, stop here and fix that situation either by getting to the library or book store, or by calling your favorite five year old to find out the plot (the Moose or Pig books work fine as well). I know the mouse is intended to remind us of small children with their never ending stream of wants and desires, but even when the kids are at school, there are voices in the house that keep me wandering off task.

Case in point, today I was given five minutes after taking a shower, and I decided that the weather was conducive to letting some fresh air in the place, so I walked into my daughter's room, but the floor was, I picked it up, but realized the bed wasn't, I went to make it, but the sheets probably weren't very, I changed them, but saw across the hall that a similar situation was brewing in the boy's, I changed his sheets too, but when I went to put something in the hamper I noticed that their bathroom was a I cleaned it, but somebody needed a new I went to look for one, but then it looked like it might rain I thought I should go enjoy some fresh air before that happened, but then the candy on the kitchen counter called, I had some, but then noticed some ads that I had been meaning to put in a blog I am.............................(and for this reason my hair did not get dried in a timely fashion, leaving it to its own ways of poor styling).


I am not sure which set of circumstances is more likely to cause my brain to implode: thinking about the same topic for far too long, or being bombarded by too many random thoughts all at once. Thank goodness for Tuesdays when Random Rules!!! (And thank goodness for Stacy Uncorked for keeping it going!)

Crack Creme? Really? Wow! All the great benefits of crack in an easy rub-on formula? How fantastic can this product actually be if the creators couldn't be bothered to think of a better name?! That Zim is just plain lazy!

So now you can wallpaper your underwear every month? Is that supposed to distract one from cramps? I would like to know what kind of people were in the focus group that green-lighted this concept. Will diapers be going this route soon as well? Will a cute design make poopy diapers less offensive?!

This is what my friend saw, out in plain sight, when she used the bathroom at her sister's house. The kicker is that it was during Easter dinner, so the company was most surely not unexpected. Kind of makes me wonder what she put away before guests came. Maybe she was just trying to spare anyone the embarrassment of having to ask to borrow some anti-itch cream, by leaving it handy for anyone. That tube specifically says that it is "feminine", so I guess male visitors that day were sadly out of luck.

Just trying to keep one step ahead of the delusional, but happy, mob!

Wednesday, April 20, 2011


Bring Tuesday back in general, as I seem to have missed it! We are caught in that limbo vacation-land mindset of not really knowing the time or day. We went away for the weekend, but didn't do that in the usual time frame (left home on Sunday), so all hope is gone of getting myself on track. The best I can do at this point is to show up for work when I am expected, which is luckily at the same time for the next three days! Well, this discussion of my lost sense of calendar skills is not terribly random nor out of the ordinary at all, so moving on...

* What is the secret to the yummy bagels of downstate New York, and why isn't anyone in Central New York trying harder to find it?! I wonder where the line of demarcation was, as we headed north on the Thruway yesterday, where the bagels stopped being so yummy.

* I am getting agitated by the items on my to-do list this week. There are not enough bonus items that can be quickly crossed off. In fact, most of them I need to actually leave the house for!

* Part of the point of a part time job came from my realization that my children don't really need me around in their faces as much anymore. So, why is it so hard for me to remove myself from their line of sight when I thought I had already accepted that change?

* I sucked up something odd when I was vacuuming under the bed at someone else's house. (Well that was probably a given, as I can't remember the last time I graced the underside of my own bed with a vacuum cleaner hose.) It looked vaguely reminiscent of some wacko exercise strap system from the seventies at first. Then, I thought it was a velcro leash type of arrangement to keep the bed owner's cat tethered to the bed...oops, but they were on all four "legs" of the bed...and there was only one cat. I just hope someone appreciated that the dust bunnies got removed from the restraints. I must make a note to self, and cleaning customers, that I do not remove things like mice from traps, nor humans from restraints.

I really don't know where to go from there, and since it isn't actually Tuesday where I am anymore, I guess I'll just mosey along.

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Fairly random

Oooh, a fancy new look from a fancy new hostess...Thanks Stacy at Stacy Uncorked !

and now, let the randomness begin...

*There are things that make me laugh as though I am channeling a teenage boy. This comes in very handy when I am hanging out with my thirteen year old son, but makes me feel slightly immature when dealing with the adults in my world. On most occasions I am relieved to find that I am not the only one snickering. My friend was stifling her laughs just as much as I was when we took a pilates yoga class with an older woman who farted every time we changed positions...every time...every single time. The same friend was also willing to take this photo for me during her morning outing. I knew she was headed in the same direction I was when I drove by too quickly to get the shot.
I know some prankster just messed with the letters, but it cracked me (and my inner child) right up. No wonder the egg sandwich is so expensive...I wonder what size they come in?

*I believe that spell check has some value in the world, but what is the deal with the autocorrect? It changed "pilates", in the last paragraph, to "oilseed". Um, that is not even remotely close to where I was headed!

*Why did a non-coffee drinking and no caffeine kind of gal like myself think it would be a good idea to get a part time job in a coffee shop? Maybe it was the same thought process that landed my borderline lactose and high fat content issues self to work at an ice cream stand for twenty summers. Possibly the same fuzzy logic that pointed my germophobe body to work in a preschool for three years? Oh, and is that me out cleaning other people's houses, when the thought of even locating my dust rag at home makes me want to weep? And when I said "sure, I'm flexible as far as when I work"' should I have accounted for the fact that I fall asleep on the couch just after ten o'clock every night? It also might have been a good idea to not only consider what I could do, as far as a schedule was concerned, but perhaps, also what I actually wanted to do. The point here being that this little something for me that I thought might bring some sanity to my driving me insane. Oops. I do have a sneaking suspicion though that there could be some blogs in the making amidst the coffee grounds.

*I was concerned because the were other kids outside playing and my daughter had no interest in joining them. She was having a grand time playing some game on the computer when I left to go out to walk the dog. During my walk, I heard the girls outside yelling for people to come see the dead mouse they'd found in a garage. I was no longer worried about my daughter's choice that day.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

It's Wednesday...all day long!

I should really get back to some of the days of the week kinds of things...if for no other reason than to help me remember what day it is!!!

Go ahead and click on that Wee bit... button, I dare you to see where it takes you!

{one} what is one food that, as an adult you love, but as a child you said you’d never touch?
artichoke hearts...I can't believe how many of those I must've passed down the table after eating just the leaves

{two} did you go to college? if yes, what was your major?
I have a four year degree in psychology

{three} what’s the most wild animal you’ve seen in real life (not counting the zoo)?
the bat in my grandmother's kitchen was was her insistence that it was a chipmunk...hanging near the ceiling...pretty wild?

{four} have you ever been to a fortune teller?
no-it spooks me!

{five} can you juggle?
no, but am glad I can chew gum and walk at the same time (and pat my head while rubbing my belly--useful skills--that's what I am all about!)

{six} hardwood floors or carpet?
half and half in our home...I like the way the dust bunnies blend into the carpets

{seven} is it called “soda” or “pop”?

{eight} what was your first car?
a totally awesome Chrysler LeBaron (early 80's model)--dark brown and broken in by my grandparents

{nine} what is the most decadent dessert you’ve ever eaten?
How can I not think of anything in particular for this one?! Whatever it was, I probably had to immediately follow it with a handful of salty chips!

{ten} how often do you rearrange your furniture?
About one room falls victim each year, but the real victim is my back.

Saturday, April 2, 2011

(almost) speechless...

The son looks so young, yet so grown. I look at his face (that I can actually see again), and see the younger boy he was. Then he speaks, and it is a much deeper voice than I am expecting to hear (eventhough it is the same voice I have been listening to for months).

Friday, April 1, 2011

Hair we are again!

When my son was much younger, any disputes about when he would get his hair cut were in direct correlation to how much fun he was having with whatever toys he was playing with at home. We then had to incorporate which neighbor kids were playing outside into our plans. At some point a shift was made to him actually caring about the length of the hair itself. The big decision as to whether or not to flip the front up became a quandary of the past. His friends were split pretty much down the middle into long hair and very short "Princeton" clipper cut kids.

Every time my son told me he thought he’d let his hair grow out, I would try to be supportive and inquire as to what style his goal was. He never had one. No long haired boy we knew, nor picture we saw was the look he was aiming for. I knew this was not a battle worth fighting. It just started to seem like right after every holiday, when I was pretending to be used to the unkempt look of our family photos, he would decide to get a haircut. One time I did plan ahead and sent him into the bathroom with a shorter haired picture of himself. I simply asked him to look in the mirror, and to tell me which look he liked better. The forest was groomed the next day. Of course, six weeks later we were at a crossroads again.

At the beginning of this past summer, we decided once and for all to let the mane grow. I told him there was no turning back because he would have a wicked tan line if he tried to change his mind after a two week beach vacation. We got past the cowlicks standing at attention like two horns above his forehead every morning. We also slowly crawled past the just plain overdue for a haircut phase. Acceptance was very quickly followed by some sort of admiration for the new look.

We went for a fall hike at a local waterfall, which was really just another one of my ploys to try to get the kids to let me take some pictures of them, (and to leave the electronic distractions behind). There was some skepticism at first, but we had an amazing time. My son wanted a series of shots of himself as he posed like the Thinker. I was game for anything since he was willing to let the lens capture him. As I kept clicking the shutter, I caught laughter, which is very often seen and heard, but harder to keep. When I got home and loaded up the images on to the computer, I was struck by this happy looking, wild haired teenager. I felt like I was falling in love with this child, and all of the angst that can come with him, all over again.

Once I stopped longing for the little boy with the short haircut, I realized that this new style, or sometimes apparent lack of one, was just so fitting for the teen he had become. Sometimes he walks by with his face lit up and his whole being is pulled together. Other times, when he sulks and that hair falls just slightly into his eyes, he has a place to hide. Every time I turn around, I am surrounded by photos of the clipper cut boy, and I think “that is so not him anymore”. He is unpredictable with an occasional untamable cowlick. He is undecided with which way his part should go. He is vibrant as he shakes the whole darn mess up. When he is frustrated, he has something to grab onto. Sometimes, when he’s feeling wild, he puts his flap hat over the whole thing and runs outside.

Two weeks ago, he declared that he was going to get his hair cut “back to the Princeton”. I stifled a gasp and reminded myself that hair was not a battle worth fighting anymore. I asked if he was sure, and he mentioned that he didn't like how it was falling in his eyes. I suggested just a shorter haircut, leaving the door open to get the clippers out at a later appointment. He was not interested. He hasn't changed his mind in the two weeks since his initial proclamation. He is showing much more conviction that I ever have about any hairstyle I've considered. No, hair is not a battle worth fighting...not out loud anyways. His appointment is tomorrow morning............