Purple

My husband decided this weekend that we needed to paint my daughter's room. Actually, since babysitting is hard to come by, he decided he needed to paint her room while I kept the kids out of his way.

Ever since we bought the new house, my husband finds little ways to put his his mark on it ("piss all over it" is his more earthy way of putting it....) and I can't blame him. If anyone has been paying any attention to the housing market for the last 5 or so years, then you know how crazy it's been. We waited a long time to buy and now that we're owners, hubby likes to do little things that remind him that we can do whatever we want to the place.

My daughter is 7, so the color choices are generally predictable for a female at that age. She settled on purple. Not lavender. But a fairly jarring shade of purple called "Freesia Purple." It's better than Pepto Bismol pink, right?

I don't really care too much about the color though. My daughter is (luckily) not a hyped-up ADD child that's already bouncing off the walls, so I doubt the color will jazz her up too much.

[total tangent here] My sister-in-law has a kid who is diagnosed ADHD and she painted his room "Cardinal Red." WTF??? You want the kid to be a 24-7 nervous wreck? [tangent over]

But I am surprised at how overall this color situation is making my head spin. This is the first time in my adult life that I have been able to pick colors for my home and I am finding out how style-challenged I am. Back home, when I still lived with my parents, I painted my room a very pale peach color and that was fine. I didn't have to match anything other than my bedroom walls and my comforter--simple. But the whole-house-matching-the-furniture-thing has me totally intimidated.

And I can't really defer to hubby. He thought the purple my daughter picked out was perfectly tasteful.

Scary.

The purple is fine for a 7-year-old girl's room, but I would hyperventilate if it was anywhere else in the house.

I don't live in a brothel.

(Oops! Did I just hint that my daughter's room looks like a brothel? That can't be good.....)

Morning People

I am not a morning person. I probably never will be, no matter how hard I try.

I've been a runner for almost 8 years. It's the only exercise that seems to reliably keep my weight down, so I keep doing it. I've tried pilates but I just can't get any excitement for yoga. I've been doing martial arts for 15 years, but I don't put it into the exercise category because two days a week just doesn't cut it.

So I run. But the problem is that with two kids and a husband, and all their corresponding schedules, I have a heck of time squeezing my exercise time in. In a strange bit of desperation I've started running in the morning before my husband goes to work. The problem is, my husband leaves for work at 6:30am and that means I have to get up at 5:30am or so.

Ugh.

I'm on my third week of this schedule and I still can't seem to get a clue. If I want (hahahahahahaha) to get up at 5:30, then I should be in bed by 9:30pm to get 8 hours of sleep, right?

Oh, that will so never happen.

I am a night owl in the worst way. During my college years I worked nights and rarely got into bed before midnight-- and that's being very conservative. Usually I was lucky to be off work by midnight. And many a night was spent at the local Denny's eating french fries and chocolate shakes with my co-workers. Maybe if I'd had fewer nights like that I wouldn't need to get up while it's still dark outside....

I've gotten myself into this vicious cycle where I get up and run, stagger home tired and bleary eyed, drink one of those super-duper caffeinated energy drinks to wake-up, get through half the day on a caffeine buzz, crash about mid-day, drink tea to get through the slump and then get my second wind about 7pm which kills any hope of getting into bed before 11pm. The worst part is that my body gives out sometime around Friday afternoon and most of Saturday is spent recovering.

You really would think I would get it together and go to bed. But no, I'm dense. Every night, when the family is in bed and the house is quiet, I say to myself I should go to bed. But then, the quiet of the night lulls me into staying up, just a little longer. I read a little or enjoy having control over the remote and before I know it-- I've cut my sleep by two hours.

Sigh.

There is a bright side though. I don't think I was aware I was awake until after I ran two miles this morning. The third mile was a bitch though.

Can a daughter be too pretty?

You're gonna think I'm just a bragging mom. Maybe I am a little. But I have a seriously gorgeous kid.

See, you think I'm bragging.

But from the time she was an infant I've had people stopping me to comment on how beautiful she is.

You still think I'm just bragging.

I got cornered once in the meat section of the grocery store by four people- who did not know each other- who said they had to come over and look at the gorgeous baby. I am not making this up. I've had a lot of people ask me if she models and even had one woman dig up a magazine to show me a picture of a child who looks amazingly like my kid. I swear she still thinks I'm hiding my child's secret modeling career.

The point of all this is that it's kind of tough to encourage your kid toward a career in medicine while everyone else is saying she ought to model. A couple of weeks ago my husband's family was over at the house and the conversation was something like this.

Great Grandma: Oooooh, look at those long legs, you should be a model dear.

Me: Or a doctor.

Grandma: Oh I know, she could be an actress.

Me: Or a doctor.

Great Grandma: And those eyes, definitely a model.

Me: Or maybe she could GO TO SCHOOL.

*Sigh*

I'm happy my daughter is pretty. Mostly. But I also fear the fact that people (like family) might skew her perception of reality and make her think she doesn't need things like an education. Or a personality.

And don't even get me started on boys.

Ugh!

I hate New Years resolutions. I never make them. Well, mostly. I pretty much resolve to lose weight year round and pretty much gain and lose the same 10 pounds in an endless cycle of self-loathing.

So I threw the scale away. I really did. I just can't live like that anymore; pegging my self-esteem to a number on a scale. I swear, it got so bad that if I weighed myself and I was up 2 pounds I'd be depressed all day.

What kind of life is that I ask you?

I blame my mom. She of the freakishly high metabolism that kept her at about 100lbs her whole adult life and couldn't figure out why I had such a hard time. After all, being skinny is easy, isn't it? I should never have relished in her menopausal weight gain but I did. She stopped griping about my weight for the first time in my life and I got to lecture her about how beneficial a trip to the gym would be. Oh paybacks are a bitch.

I feel like I am in this weird flux state in my life right now. I haven't weighed myself in a couple of months and it's been pretty great. The world didn't end, my clothes still fit and I can make it through the day without a fit of self-loathing. Who knew how liberating ignoring ones weight could be?

Sadly, it does help that my mom is gone (not dead, just out of the country...). I no longer worry about comments about my current hairstyle, clothing or shoes. Yes, I can wear my Croc's without comments about how wide they make my feet look. These are silly little freedoms but you'd be surprised how the little things add up.

I just hope that I have learned something though. I hope I can raise my daughter without so many superficial judgements. I hope I appreciate her for who she is and what she can offer without letting 'appearances sake' get in the way. I've had enough of that for one lifetime.

My Dog is in Lust With Santa Clause

I almost didn't get my dog a Christmas present this year. I've never been one to buy my pets presents on holidays because, well, they're pets! It's not like they're going to know or anything. But when my seven year old daughter asked me what I thought Santa was going to bring Sassy this year, I knew I had to get something for the dog.

So my husband picked up a fairly generic doggie-stocking stuffed with doggie toys and we put it under the tree. At first it didn't really seem like the dog was that into her present. She'd kind of half-heartedly chase the squeaky ball or nose the toy candy-cane around, but no real excitement-- maybe she had been hoping for a new exciting chicken-flavored chewy-- I don't know.

But after a day or so I noticed a new light in the dog's eyes (or at least the one she can see out of). She seemed to be favoring the stuffed-Santa toy. She'd kind of sidle over coyly and gaze at Santa with a look that could only be called adoring.

And then she'd attempt to hump the bejeesus out of the thing.

I didn't know girl dogs did this until Sassy came along. Unfortunately my mom never got her spayed. At first there was a glimmering of an idea to breed the dog, but then it just turned into laziness and the dog was left with these feelings, or yearnings maybe, that can't find expression without a boy dog to help her out.

Apparently Santa is a decent surrogate.

When this slightly alarming behavior started (you try explaining what the dog is doing to Santa to your young children) I had already had Sassy scheduled to be fixed so I didn't worry too much. I assumed the dog's hormones would cool it once she was no longer fertile, but it turns out that was a foolish hope.

I don't know if all dogs will try to hump stuffed animals after being fixed, or if it's behavior that's only common to dogs who are older after being snipped. I doesn't really matter, Sassy still wants to get it on with the guy in red.

But I've had to put the kibosh on her party. It's just too awkward with kids or polite company. So I had to take Santa away.

The dog usually sleeps on our bed at night, but for the last two nights she's slept on the downstairs couch. I don't know if she's in mourning or if she simply isn't speaking to me. Or maybe she knows Santa is sitting on top of the TV and she's hoping he'll come down for a midnight tryst.

I hope I'm not getting in the way of true love.

What a Drama Free Life Looks Like

My parents have been gone a little over a month now and it's HEAVEN I tell you. My mom calls every few days but the phone cards only last 6 minutes so the calls are blissfully short. It's beautiful.

So what have hubby and I done with our new peaceful existence? Did we take up zen meditation to get into tune with our spirits-- or whatever the hell that stuff is for? Heck no! We bought "Guitar Hero."

I have never in my life played video games before. I hate the whole joystick thingy. I cannot push buttons and aim at the same time. I don't know if it's an X chromosome thing (kind of like being directionally challenged) or if I'm just lazy. But "Guitar Hero" rocks (no pun intended)!

I can play a game that lets me hold a guitar and pretend I know how to play it. How great is that? I don't need to know my way around notes or chords or melodies or any of that junk. Nope. I just push the blue button when it appears on screen and music happens! Instant gratification never felt so good.

Blogging is tough though. My hands are all tired and cramped up. The first night I put a brief post up on my sci-fi blog and I could barely type.

But I have found it's a great stress reliever and oddly enough something my husband and I can do together. Yeah, we're dorks. Parent free dorks....

Big shock, they're gonna sue....

I'm sure most of you have heard about the tiger attack at the San Francisco Zoo last week. If you haven't, all you have to do is google San Fransico Zoo and tiger and you'll have all the details you can handle. But in a nutshell, 3 boys were visiting the zoo on Christmas day and according to bystanders were teasing the tiger, which resulted in the animal scaling the wall and killing one boy and mauling the other two.

So, big shocker, the surviving boys (brothers) have retained a lawyer (ambulance chaser Mark Geragos of Scott-Peterson-trial fame) and it's looking a whole lot like they're going to sue the zoo.

What bugs me to no end about this whole thing is that I think the zoo is responsible for the attack despite the fact that the survivors appear to be total tools. The boys haven't spoken to or been cooperative with police at all. I don't know if they have even spoken to the family of the boy who was killed but I wouldn't be surprised if they haven't because their behavior thus far would indicate they are complete assholes.

And if their personalities were taken into account they probably wouldn't get anything from a jury.

But here's the thing. The tiger got over the wall. No matter what those boys did to provoke the tiger the fact is the zoo should have been damn sure that such a dangerous animal couldn't have made it over the wall. Because we're talking about a wild animal, whose to say what could have caught the tiger's eye at any given time and made it curious enough to get out? What if it had been my kid (or yours) on the other side of that enclosure carrying a balloon that made the tiger just curious enough to check it out?

See what I'm getting at?

The zoo takes our money and offers us the spectacle of wild animals on display with the promise of safe viewing. It doesn't matter whether you approve of keeping wild animals in captivity or not, it just is what it is and the zoo didn't ensure the public safety. And now, two complete shitheads will probably walk with a ton of money they don't deserve and a beautiful animal was put to death because the zoo was careless. And lets not forget the boy who was killed. He sounds as if he was the most decent of the bunch. At least, for his parents sake, I hope he was.

Favorite Christmas Movie Quotes

George Bailey: What is it you want, Mary? What do you want? You want the moon? Just say the word and I'll throw a lasso around it and pull it down. Hey. That's a pretty good idea. I'll give you the moon, Mary.
Mary: I'll take it. Then what?
George Bailey: Well, then you can swallow it, and it'll all dissolve, see... and the moonbeams would shoot out of your fingers and your toes and the ends of your hair... am I talking too much?
~It's a Wonderful Life

Ralphie as Adult: [narrating] Over the years I got to be quite a connoisseur of soap. Though my personal preference was for Lux, I found that Palmolive had a nice, piquant after-dinner flavor - heavy, but with a touch of mellow smoothness. Life Buoy, on the other hand... YECCHH!
~A Christmas Story

Fred Holywell: [on his Uncle Ebenezer] ... His wealth is quite useless to him, really. He doesn't do any good with it; he doesn't even make HIMSELF comfortable with it.
Ebenezer Scrooge: [whom nobody else can see or hear] I haven't SQUANDERED it, if that's what you mean by "making myself comfortable!"
Ghost of Christmas Present: You mustn't argue with those in the right. It's pointless, and even tactless.
Ebenezer Scrooge: Tact is a quality I despise.
Ghost of Christmas Present: *That* I can see.
~A Christmas Carol

Frank Cross: I want to see her nipples.
Censor Lady: But this is a CHRISTMAS show.
Frank Cross: Well, I'm sure Charles Dickens would have wanted to see her nipples.
Guy who works on set: You can barely see them nipples.
Frank Cross: See? And these guys are REALLY looking.
~Scrooged

Kevin McCallister: I took a shower washing every body part with actual soap; including all my major crevices; including in between my toes and in my belly button which I never did before but sort of enjoyed. I washed my hair with adult formula shampoo and used cream rinse for that just-washed shine. I can't seem to find my toothbrush, so I'll pick one up when I go out today. Other than that, I'm in good shape.
~Home Alone

Clark Griswold: Where do you think you're going? Nobody's leaving. Nobody's walking out on this fun, old-fashioned family Christmas. No, no. We're all in this together. This is a full-blown, four-alarm holiday emergency here. We're gonna press on, and we're gonna have the hap, hap, happiest Christmas since Bing Crosby tap-danced with Danny fucking Kaye. And when Santa squeezes his fat white ass down that chimney tonight, he's gonna find the jolliest bunch of assholes this side of the nuthouse.
~Christmas Vacation

Santa: That's another thing... Buddy you should know that your father... he's on the naughty list.
Buddy: Nooooo!
~Elf

John McClane: Merry Christmas, Argyle.
Argyle: Merry Christmas.
Argyle: [Argyle shuts the limo door]
Argyle: Man, if this is their idea of Christmas, I *gotta* be here for New Year's.
~Die Hard
(Yippie-kay-yay, motherfucker is really my favorite, but I was trying for a holiday quote.... )

Have a great holiday everyone!

Who Knew Burger King Was Into S & M?

This site just cracks me up. It's called Subservient Chicken and you have to see it for yourself.

I'm generally too chicken myself to ask him to do more than the chicken dance. Let me know if any of you are brave enough (or clever enough) to come up with some interesting commands.

For Those Who Can Get to New York on Short Notice...

I have movie premier tickets at Madison Square Garden for "I Am Legend" to giveaway on my Sci-fi blog. Go HERE to find out how to enter!

The Light! I Can See the Light!

My parents flew out this morning. They really did it. They really left and I managed to prevent them from moving in with me. How I prevented this miracle tragedy (already drunk while writing this...) is still a mystery to me. Of course, I still need to stay vigilant to make sure that I don't end up with family members mooching off of me later, but I think we've set a good precedent.

I can breath now. I may not even need a bottle of wine to go to bed with. Starting tomorrow...

Time For a Crazy Check

I have a friend who is going through the same kind of B.S. with her mom that I've had going on with my parents. And we were wondering if it's a generational thing, you know- crazy baby-boomers, or if it's an age thing and we're all going to act like that someday.

We have both decided that we would rather be strung up by our eyeballs than end up like our moms, so we've promised each other that if we see the other doing anything reminiscent of our bat-shit-crazy mothers, we are obligated to give each other a 'crazy check.'

I think this could work, don't you? I mean, wouldn't it get your attention if someone said to you, "um, you're starting to act like your mom..."

((shudder))

But mostly, I'm thinking it'll be time to end it if my daughter ends up with a 'crazy check' agreement with one of her friends.

Sob

I wish I didn't need to use my blog as a diary. I wish I didn't feel like the acid in my stomach is a volcano ready to erupt. I wish my parents were leaving when they originally said they were going to *&^%$# leave!

They delayed their flight by three days. That might not seem like much, but it's an eternity to me. I went over to their house today to pack up stuff that they've graciously decided to pawn off on me and my gut has been ready to explode ever since.

Is it wrong to wish for a big blow-up so I can tell my dad never to call me again? I actually wish for this too.

The drama right now is over the fact that my parents want to store a bunch of stuff in our garage. My husband is so mad he can't see straight. My dad lays this guilt trip on me that because we're "family" he shouldn't have to even feel bad about asking us to store his shit for him. WTF? I don't remember seeing a family rulebook that says it's okay to take advantage of your kids without guilt. Then my dad tells me that because he gave us this pinball machine that my husband wanted ....I could've paid for a years worth of storage for what I could have sold that for..... we should store his stuff for him. My husband is ready to go rent a truck and park the pinball machine in their driveway.

I don't blame him.

My parents have also said they want to spend the night with us right before they leave but I think that's going to be off the table. My husband has decided he will put them up in a hotel before that comes to pass and I think that's wise. I can just see my dad telling us, after he's already in the door, that he's postponed his flight again and they're going to spend Christmas with us.

I think not.

Stress!!!

I'm as so stressed. I know I've been using my blog as a personal diary lately with TMI in virtually every post. But I'm sure you've been there before, haven't you? The stress you're dealing with is family related and you can't exactly call your mom and tell her what's going on when your mom is the problem. And my poor husband is just plain tired of hearing about it. And frankly, hearing his rants about my family don't exactly lift the stress right off of my shoulders either.

We're moving this week (Ya!) and that's actually not too bad. We have probably had the most hassle-free home purchase ever. This is so ironic considering the credit crunch that is going on right now. I guess the frugality that my husband and I live our lives by has finally paid off. We got the keys today and my dear hubby is currently painting his brains out. I would be over there helping him, but without babysitting there is no way I could take our 3-year-old demon child over there an expect to have a fingerprint-free paint job. Heck, I expect the boy would be covered in paint from head-to-toe in a matter in minutes-- right after my husband pulled all of his own hair out.

No, my stress is pretty much all related to my parents. Isn't that something? I'm moving during Thanksgiving week and that's nothing compared to dealing with my family. But you so know what I'm talking about don't you? You know you do. You're planning on having Thanksgiving dinner right now with relatives that drive you up the wall. Don't lie.

I've been living in terror for the last three weeks that my mom and dad were going to try to weasel their way into living with me. We bought a house that would be big enough to move them in, but there is no way in hell that I would ever, ever let that happen. My dad threw out a comment the first week that hey, there's room for all of us there! Your mom and I could go on hubby's insurance as dependants and I could pocket my social security money.

I think my exact response was oh shit!

My dad is one of those people who will say stuff like that to see how you'll react and if it's not a positive reaction, they'll try to pass it off as a joke. Riiiiiight. Just a joke. He wouldn't be joking if I said he could move in.

But I told my mom straight up that there was no way that I could live with my dad. Period. I've watched my dad wreck their finances for the last 5 years and I know for a fact he would take advantage of us and put us in the poor-house as well. No thank you. I may be a cold-hearted daughter, but I see no reason to bankrupt my family because my dad hadn't the financial sense not to rack up almost a million dollars in debt-- that he will completely default on.

What's really galling is that my dad wasn't some poor schmuck who earned minimum wage his whole life. No, he earned big bucks. He'd spend $30k a year on lavish vacations. They bought a stupid $10,000 marble statue of an angel that doesn't go with anything. My mom bought fur coats and we live in California. Need I say more?

Luckily, my parents have finally made arrangements to go to Thailand. They're flying out 3 days after we move. Thank God! But it's been a grind. My dad expects me to put my life on hold to help him with his stuff even though I'm moving! He calls me and says I need you to do me a favor and tells me that they're going to be spending the night at my house the day we move. Um, hello? Ever think about asking me if that was okay first? I put my foot down though and told him no way. I don't care that you have packed up your mattresses, where the heck do you think you're going to sleep at my house? On the boxes I haven't emptied yet? Jerk.

So then I tell my mom yesterday that I'm tired of them telling me what I need to do for them. If they want me to do them a favor, ask! Don't demand. My mom gets all patronizing when I get mad and says things like I know, we're all stressed, as if they're not actually doing anything wrong, I'm just stressed out. She did this to me too when I was planning my wedding--but that's an old gripe.

But I still laid down the law. I said I would help if I could. I would try to find a way to let them spend the night right before they left, but not the very day we move in. My mom tells me that my dad's feelings are hurt. Jeebus. My dad has never given a rat's ass about any one's feelings his whole life but now we need to worry about his delicate sensibilities. Sorry, that ship has sailed.

So I'm trying to hold strong. I'm trying to protect my family while managing to stay on speaking terms with my parents-- not easy. But if I have to go silent to keep my kids and my husband from harm, then I will. But I guarantee my parents are going to be nice to me. They won't have anyone else to stay with if they come back for a visit.

What It's All About

Jocelyn over at O Mighty Crisis (best blog name ever) put up this amazing post on her blog and I couldn't help but think, yeah, that's the way it's supposed to be.

I love my family dearly, but sometimes I wonder if I'm not a little relationship impaired. Somehow I found a man who thinks I'm normal and we've managed to hold it together for 12 years, and counting. But I think he's impaired in much the same way I am, which is a good thing. He has no other point of reference.

But, as I've said many times, my family is nuts. So how do you figure out how to function as a whole person when the tools you've been given are a bit lacking? In my case, I think I do owe a lot to a husband who fills in the gaps for me. (no I didn't say "he completes me...............") But he is the yin to my yang. He's all about the details and I'm the big picture person. He sweats the small stuff and I say "why worry?" He doesn't think I'm a freak for watching "Farscape" reruns and I don't belittle him for owning a David Cassidy record. Most of the time.

Jocelyn has inspired me to look back on my marriage and give thanks to the man who has been nuts enough to put up with my family for the last 12 years. Is there an award for that? There certainly should be.

I'm 3 years older than my husband and I think that has a lot to do with why we're still together. When we first met his 22-year-old self was quite in awe of my sophisticated 25-year-old self and he thought he was quite the stud to land the older woman. I didn't have the heart to tell him that I wasn't as impressive as he thought I was and just let it lie. I'm nice like that.

Despite the fact that I am older, we graduated college at the same time. (I'm a slacker-- though I did get a minor in Japanese and did overseas study that added to my time in college. At least, that's what I tell myself) So we were both on the hunt for "real" jobs at the same time. Honestly, I forget who landed one first, though he is still at his first post-college job while I had several. One job took me to L.A. I got a job as an Associate Producer for a syndicated TV show and couldn't pass the job up. I thought for sure my husband (then boyfriend) and I would break up. I'd had limited experience with long distance relationships and figured the relationship would fizzle out after a few weeks. We'd been together for a little over a year and I knew I loved him, but I had been disappointed before and prepared myself to be disappointed again. I told him we should break up.

Fortunately for me, my husband is not the kind of guy to take bad news lying down. He accepted what I said but didn't accept what it meant-- if that makes any sense. He helped my move my stuff to L.A. and get my apartment set up and I was impressed but not convinced that he was really going to hang around. O me of little faith.

For the next year, my husband-to-be flew down to see me EVERY weekend. Well, almost every weekend. I think he couldn't make it twice-- those times I flew up to see him. Is that dedication or what? It only took a few weeks for me to realize he wasn't going to just fade quietly into the sunset. This was a man who meant to hang around. Wow. Every girl should have a guy like that in her life.

After I was in L.A. for a few months he proposed to me and I knew I had to marry him. He was, and is, special. But more importantly, he thought I was special enough to fly down and see me every weekend no matter how expensive or inconvenient it was. I grew up in a family that sometimes forgot my birthday. I needed a man who could cherish me.

I won't say we haven't had rocky times. We have had some beauts. But the one thing that holds it together is that my husband never stops trying. There is really nothing he wouldn't do to hold our marriage, our life and our family together. He's not perfect-- and neither am I. But there is that link between us that makes me believe that soul mates exist. He finishes my sentences and knows what I am thinking before I do. He is in a word, irreplaceable.

Oh Dear God! Why??!!!

So I'm cruising the net today. Normal stuff. And somehow I come across a mention of a YouTube video called "2 girls 1 cup." (I got the name wrong when I put this post up, but I was too shaken to go back and find the video to verify its name)

Do not watch it ever. Never. I can not stress this enough.

I want to take an SOS pad to my brain and scrub. I wish I lived in the world of "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind."

I want to hurl.

If you have never heard of it, it involves two women eating feces. I wish I had never watched it.

I feel dirty.

*shudder* *shudder* *shudder* *shudder* *shudder*

Is This Really My Child?

I wonder if my son was switched at birth. It just doesn't seem possible that he could be related to my daughter. My girl is such a mellow kid. We're moving soon and it's not bothering her at all. I was neurotic about moving her because I moved so much as a kid but she just takes a look at her new walk-in closet, says "cool" and is good-to-go.

My son freaks out if I leave the room.

My son is the kid you see in the McDonald's play area climbing on the side of play structure above the "do not climb" sign. He's the kid who picks up the bark at the park and throws it everywhere. I am the mom everyone looks at like "can't you control your kid?" No. Not really.

He's killing me.

I mentioned on my sci-fi blog how my son is going through a potty mouthed phase. At first I didn't believe what I was hearing. My son is a little bit speech-delayed (he's too busy climbing the walls to worry about talking) and his words aren't always that clear. At first I thought, well maybe he's saying "sit." But no, he wasn't explaining what his toys were doing on the floor, he really was exclaiming "shit!" whenever something didn't go his way. *Sigh* I got stop saying that every time I find that he got into the permanent ink markers and christened my couch....again. I still haven't figured out how to get the black ink off his belly from last time.

This week it's Halloween. To most people that might mean costumes but to my son it means candy. More specifically, chocolate. I will say this, the child has the good taste to prefer chocolate over all the other stuff most taste-impaired children go for. My daughter will trade a Kit-Kat for a gummy worm. Helloooooo? But not my son. He holds up his candy bar triumphantly and cries out "CHOCOLATE!" before smearing it all over his face and my furniture.

And now I'm trying to move and deal with this child. I'm pulling my hair out. He is the master of dragging the dining room chairs around to get into the higher cupboard-- or on top of the fridge. No place is safe from this child. I caught him with a knife the other day as he was trying to use it to open a candy package he had grabbed off of a high shelf.

And lest you think I leave this child unattended, let me assure you this is not the case. The last time he got a hold of a Sharpie, I had been following him around all morning. My husband has asked me to do all the transferring of utilities from the old house to the new, and I was making phone calls. I kept a note pad with me so I could be mobile and kept following my son as I made my calls. I'd go downstairs and dial and he'd immediately go upstairs. I'd follow him up as the phone was ringing and he'd turn around and go down. This went on for awhile until I got in the middle of a conversation with the cable company and realized after two minutes I my son was on the opposite floor again. I followed and found that he had pulled the Sharpies from the shelf (I think he stood on a box to get to them) tore open the package and got to work. He hit the couch, the kitchen floor, two tables and himself before I stopped the madness. Fortunately I got there before the ink was dry and managed to prevent any permanent damage. Thank God my husband wasn't home. The neighbors would have turned us in for sure.

But this is what it's like every day. I'm so tired I can't stand it. Between my family chaos and my son I need a sedative-- but I'm afraid I'd like the happy pills too much, so I'll stay away thank-you-very-much.

But what the heck do I do with a kid on testosterone overload? Seriously. Ideas?

My Mother-in-Law is a Tattooed Wiccan

I mentioned in an earlier post that my in-law's divorce saga was just too good a story to pass up-- and it is. I'll try to just hit the highlights, but I may still ramble a bit.

When I first met my husband's family I thought they were soooo normal, and for awhile, they were. My in-laws have been married 35 years and they kept it together for most of that time. They did split up for a year back when my husband was 11, but got back together when my father-in-law supposedly shaped up his act.

Let me back up a bit. My FIL is a career military guy. He flew F-4's in Vietnam and is now a General. I won't specify his position because it could actually hurt his career to have stuff circulating about him, and despite the family drama, I do respect the service he's given his country. But military men are notoriously controlling and in his younger days he had a temper. My MIL was not a strong woman back then but she finally decided enough was enough and left. My FIL calmed down, treated her better and they worked things out.

But over the years another problem creeped up. Confidentiality. My FIL has a political job that involves a lot of secrecy. My husband will sometimes ask questions about what he does and his dad has to say, I can't tell you that, it's classified. It's not as bad as I could tell you but I'd have to kill you... But in all seriousness, that's the job and my FIL isn't making it up. But can you imagine the strain on the marriage? Most of the time he can't talk about his job. The habit is so ingrained that we never hear about his job. No workplace gossip or anything. I couldn't stand that, I love water cooler talk.

Over time this has bled into my FIL's everyday life. He is so used to keeping to himself that I don't think the poor man knows how to communicate beyond giving orders anymore and my MIL is literally starving to death for attention.

So, about two years ago, my FIL starts acting even more secretive than usual. He'd say he was going to go to Home Depot to pick something up and be gone for three hours. He started getting mysterious phone calls. My MIL found his Viagra. Yep, an affair, though he still won't cop to it.

The sad thing is that my MIL held on to the belief that is was just an "emotional affair" for a long time (as if that was better) but I think she's finally come to terms with the fact that he probably used a few of those Viagra, though I don't know if she actually counted them. I would have. But I'm a glutton for punishment.

My MIL's reaction was a bit strange though. Rather than kick his butt out she started acting like a rebellious teenager looking for attention. ((We actually kicked him out for her, but she let him back in just two weeks later after he promised to go to counseling, declaring I've known that man for 34 years and I trust him. He never went to counseling.)) I forget which came first, her decision to become a witch, or the tattoos. I think it was the witch thing first.

I can't remember how it came up initially. I just remember she told my husband that she was going to be a Wiccan. My husband just kind of rolled his eyes and went with it. She's always been the type to get wild hairs every now and then, but this was a new one. I told my husband not to give her a hard time because I thought she was looking for a diversion. But in hindsight, I think she was hoping to shock her straight laced military husband. We'd go over for Thanksgiving and she'd force us to sit through all these pagan blessings. Oh, but only after saying that Halloween was now some kind of major holiday for witch-kind and decking the house out in all it's Halloween finery, lighting candles and casting spells. At least she doesn't do anything halfway.

Unfortunately my FIL just wasn't as rattled by the whole Wiccan thing as my MIL hoped. He'd kind of shake his head, but never really offered a big reaction, which is what I think she was hoping for. So she started getting tattoos. Now, I don't want to be judgemental. Tattoos are pretty commonplace now, but when your MIL starts getting them, they just don't seem that cool anymore.

She started with a moon and stars on her ankle, then a ladybug on her foot. Followed by a small fairy on the other ankle and a great big fairy on her inner ankle that goes up her leg. They're pretty-- I guess. But they're also a pretty drastic measure to get your husband's attention don't you think?

And sadly, that didn't seem to get his attention either. I think he's just totally indifferent now. So MIL is talking divorce, though I don't know how long it'll take before she gets the guts up to actually do it. My FIL is beyond indifferent to her emotionally, but he manipulates her into staying because he doesn't want to lose half his pension. I personally think he's back with his girlfriend but I don't know for sure. I don't really have the energy to deal with it since my parent's drama is ongoing, but I expect that within days of my parents finally leaving, my in-laws will go into full-scale drama mode.

Oh, and I haven't even mentioned the fact that my MIL decided awhile ago that she was bi-polar (she used to be a nurse and self-diagnosed herself) she got a psychologist to go along with it and has been taking meds for it--including Lithium. And she's become a raging alcoholic-- using the drink induced haze to run her mouth at family gatherings.

But you gotta laugh. It's like a black comedy written by the Farrelly Brothers. And the weird thing is that I still think my family is worse. My husband agrees. He thinks that compared to my family, this is garden variety stuff. I should write a screenplay.

I haven't heard much about my MIL's "religion" lately though. I wonder if she's got some other ideas brewing in that head of hers to get my FIL's attention. It could be an interesting Christmas this year.

10-20-30 Meme

I've been tagged by John over at Grasping for the Wind with a fun meme that asks what you were doing 10, 20 and 30 years ago. Unfortunately I have answers for all three....

10 years ago I was mostly getting ready for my wedding. I had a job in L.A. that I left to come back to Northern California since my husband-to-be couldn't relocate his job as easily as I could. I decided to move back with my parents to save on rent money and I didn't want to live with my husband prior to marriage-- you know to keep it special. I was also scrambling to get a new job which ended up with me back in school to get my teaching credential that I completed soon after we married. All-in-all a hugely transitional time of my life.

20 years ago, let's see, I would have just turned 18. I had been in college for a year at that time and was just starting to realize I was going to have to actually apply myself if I was going to graduate someday. I was working as a waitress at a local Mexican restaurant-- after leaving my oh-so-glamorous job at the movie theatre. I had a lot of fun at this age. I wasn't a partier at all, but I had a bunch of friends that I worked with and we often would socialize together outside of work and had a blast. We'd go river-rafting or just hang out at Denny's at 2am. I didn't have a steady boyfriend at this age so just dated a bit and flirted a lot and got way too little sleep. Good times.


30 years ago I would have been 8. We were living in Irvine California. We moved a lot when I was a kid, I went to a different school almost every year in fact. I liked third grade. We lived in a great house in a nice neighborhood. The problem was that my parents only rented the house and couldn't keep up the payments after the first year-- but oh what blissful ignorance until then. I went to Turtle Rock elementary and I fondly remember a little boy Carl who declared his undying love for me-- at least until his next crush. I imagine that boy was quite the charmer as he got older. Even then he knew that compliments and gifts were a sure fire way to get the ladies. I hope he didn't turn out to be a cad.

I'm sure I'm supposed to tag someone. But I'm lazy, so consider yourself tagged if you want to be.

Sorry for the lack of action....

For the few who actually read this blog, sorry for the lack of new posts. I wrote THIS POST to explain on my sci-fi blog.