Trick-or-Treat

Big Kid: (emptying bag of candy) "Why do some people give out the cheap candy?!?...Oops....sorry, Mom."

for emmy

Please pray for 5 yr old Emmy who has been battling cancer for the past year and for her mother Dare who is struggling as she prepares to again face off with this relentless enemy. With God's grace, may they be victorious so they can be a "normal" family again.

Emmy and Dare are a poignant reminder to me that many of my frustrations are in fact true blessings.

Kisses and hugs to all your lil' goblins.

Historic Event

Hell has frozen over. Or maybe my “happy” pill is working overtime. Nevertheless, an historic event has occured: I am riding a PEP BUS to an away football game this Friday night. I don’t even like football-let alone pretend to understand it. And peppy is a word that has never been used to describe me. Caring about a ball being tossed around a field is just beyond me. But having a winning team for the first time in the 10 year history of our school-is, well……exciting! Even a sports Grinch like me can’t resist the urge to pick up a pair of pom-poms and cheer my team to victory. I hope we kill them!

I just hope it’s not too cold….or raining…or too crowded…or too exhausting. What if the lines to the bathroom and concessions are too long? Or the bus smells bad? Preparing to be peppy is quite stressful for the un-peppy. Please, God, let the face tattoo and the foam finger make it all worthwhile….

Go Blaze!

Committed

As I stepped into the shower this morning, I spontaneously veered to the counter to take my birth control pill, lest I should forget (the cardinal no-no). In my rush to hop back into the shower, I drop it. Dammit! So I drop to all fours and desperately pat down the cold tiles. Eureka! Under the floor mat! And while still kneeling on the floor-butt naked-I pop the dusty, fuzz covered pill into my mouth and swallow-with no water and no reservation about the cleanliness of my bathroom floor (which is dirty-btw).

That's how freakin' serious I am about not inviting Judy TAMPONelli back to my house. Judy...gotta GO.

Southern Vernacular

I wanna bring back a southern term that was popular in the 1970’s and has since disappeared from the popular vernacular. I can clearly recall my mother talking to her best friend Gladys C. for hours on the party line (while drinking tab and listening to Barry Manillo on the radio), and this word punctuated nearly every other sentence.

“Can you believe it? Tacky!”
“Did you see what she wore to church today? Tacky!”
“All that blue eye shadow! Tacky!”
“All those kids actin’ out at the mall? Tacky!”

So today after the potluck when the leftover food was commandeered by a non-participant and doled out to a group of ungrateful kids, all I could think was…..TACKY!!!

When you have a word like “Tacky,” what more can you say? Tacky says it ALL. Some might call this BITCHY-but if you don’t know the difference, then we probably need to break up-right here and now. So this is the clarion call: Bring Back “Tacky!!!” And I’m calling on my southern gal-pals to resurrect this oldie but goodie out of the hope chest. (Southern gals have a patent on this word-so why not enjoy the privileges of ownership?) Next time you witness a questionable action or deed, call it like you see it….TACKY!

I hope this will illicit some TACKY responses from the blither blather readership!

GOYA Tues

Get Off Your @ss Tuesday!

Last week I told you that I would be working on my positive attitude in preparation for another stint at the local fat farm (ie Weight Watchers). And I also lamented (whined???) that this would be easier said than done. Like many women, I really struggle to forgive and accept myself, especially in areas of my life where I persistently fail. And my struggle with weight loss has been a vicious merry-go-round of failure. So getting back in the saddle after a difficult year requires a whole lot of forgiveness and courage-of epic, biblical proportions. This was a good week however for positive reflection and counting my blessings: two full days of sunshine, the beauty of turning leaves, friends who bring joy and peace to my life, a good book, birds in my garden, happy children playing in my yard, helpful neighbors, and a loving, supportive hubby who really “gets” me and loves me as I am (even the crazy parts)-to name only a few. So on Tues when I take that first step onto the scale and begin this all too familiar journey again, I want to feel valiant in that moment-not defeated or hopeless. It’s about owning my journey-and thanking God- that I have arrived at a better place. Scarred and battle-worn but standing nonetheless. Although it has been a painful, messy year, I am richer in compassion, kindness, and empathy. My pride and arrogance have been tempered, and I have been humbled and privileged to have been loved well and deeply by so many. And there’s no number on earth that’s more meaningful than that. So here’s to finding the strength to do it all over again, to starting over, to getting back up, and to getting off my ass-one more time. My wish for this week is that we will all practice our kindness, compassion, and forgiveness on OURSELVES and not be imprisoned by our past, fearful of our future, or disconnected to our present. Blessings to you all!

Forecast

Looked up from the computer to find Mr B intensely staring at me as I was obliviously blogging away. "So, how are you feeling today?" he asks. Puzzled and perplexed, I ask him to explain this burning intensity. "Well," he says, "some people watch the weather forecast daily. I track the emotional forecast. Just checking for sunny skies with a chance of tornadoes possible mid afternoon."

Looks like clear skies and smooth sailing for Mr B today. As long as he keeps his priorities straight...

Lil' brother's school career, thus far...

Lil’ brother’s school career, thus far…

The Prologue: Ms N- the kindergarten teacher- wrote 22 notes home throughout the course of the year about lil’ brother’s behavior. Here are just 3 events that Mr B and I nearly didn’t recover from:

1. [lil’ brother] used his scissors inappropriately by repeatedly chopping them in his friends’ faces. He has been moved from the Polar Bear table to the Grizzly table. Please discuss this with him.
2. [lil’ brother] pushed his friend A- down in gym today, laid on top of him, and choked him-all because A- beat him in a race across the gym.
3. During circle time, [lil’ brother] put his hand under his shirt and into his armpit to make rude noises that distracted the other children from hearing the story and then they all began to imitate his disruptive behavior.

I can assure you-none of these events were funny at the time. Ms N also insisted that lil’ brother have his eyes examined because he continually laid his head down on the table to color with only one eye open. The eye doctor dryly assured us-he sees just fine.

Chapter 1: In first grade, lil’ brother never spelled a word the same way twice. Even when directly copying. Need some variety in spelling c-a-t? Just ask lil brother-he’s your man. Mr B became convinced that lil' brother needed to have his hearing tested. Maybe he’s just not hearing the spelling words and that’s why he can’t spell them. “Do you notice how loud he listens to the TV and when we call him three times he still doesn’t come downstairs ?!?” So we got our concerned pediatrician to refer us to a specialist-who put wires in his ears and stuffed him in a sound proof box and scratched squiggles on a piece of paper- while lil’ brother hollered back, “Whaaaaaaat did you say? I can’t heeeeaaaaarrrr you!” At the follow up meeting, Mr B and I leaned in closely, bracing ourselves for the news-lil’ brother hears just fine.

Chapter 2: At the 2nd grade parent/teacher conference Ms W and I expressed our shared concern about lil’ brother’s reluctance/boredom with reading. In the follow up email last week, she informed me that lil’ brother’s achievement scores had arrived and the results were conclusive. I braced myself - ready for impact. Looks like lil’ brother learns just fine- and is significantly smarter than his befuddled parents had reckoned. Oh,……hay-ell! So we’re burying this little bit of information in the back closet file marked “Lil Brother Must Never Know.” If knowledge is power-not sure I want lil’ brother tapping into his natural resources.

Wisdom of the Ages:
Of all the animals, the boy is the most unmanageable.
Plato

Post Party Report

The Wild Angels event was a success (check out the link at the right)! Spending time with friends was the best part of the evening. My dear friend G was missed by all. Unfortunately she had to play Florene Nightingale to a sick, H1N1 infected hubby. And we appreciate her sacrifice in not bringing the flu to us (our turn will come soon enough). Also the wine was a fun part of the night (thanks to Conrich Cellars). Loved those Taintor labels, too (top right)! But Madame Zoloft was the belle of the ball with her insightful palm and tarot readings. Even Mr B got his fortune read and seemed quite impressed (could have been the purple dress and go-go boots, too). And you can imagine what a skeptic he is... So if you need to spice up your next event, send her an email at madamezoloft@gmail.com

Signing off now...pooped from all that cleaning and entertaining. Totally worth it though. Thanks, ya'll!

Morning After:
Big kid: "Mom you have some really interesting friends, and that's very important."

Remedy

Found lil' brother in a nest of twisted covers with a lit flashlight totally conked out this morning when I went to wake him for school. When I asked him to explain, he reports,"I read de 1st grade yearbook to fall asleep last night. And IT WORKS!" Wish I'd known this sooner...might give it a try.

Junkie

OK-I’m not especially proud of this-but in true blither blather form here it is: I’m a celebrity tabloid junkie. I read them daily. I am still waiting on the Brad/Angelina break up to happen. I also need to know if Justin and Jessica are getting back together; who Gerard is hooking up with now; what happened to Jessica’s beloved dog; what Nicole named the baby; what new celeb-wacko is now a Scientologist; and who has turned lesbian. And yes-I believe the reports 92.8 % of the time. I am STILL waiting for Jennifer Aniston to have her “F-YOU!” moment in the spotlight.

I know, I know, I know... With a full time job, two boys, a dog, a dirty house, and busy hubby-there are better things to do with my time. I MAKE TIME FOR THIS. The laundry can wait… And I have been spending a lot of quality time lately loathing the slimy, slick-willy, turned wanna-be-playboy Jon Gosselin. I can’t STAND him. Now-for those of you who have watched some Jon & Kate plus Eight-I’m not defending Kate’s uber-critical communication style. But I GET her. She’s a manager of an impossible household of people who can’t sit still. Somebody’s gotta do the bitchin’ or nothin’s gonna get done. And you KNOW I’m right on this one... None of us could do that well with cameras rolling. I also understand that sometimes divorce is the best option for two people. I’m not criticizing their split. I just can’t stand the revolving door, sleazy sex-ploits of this once hands-on dad from middle America who represented the working class family engaged in the messy process of parenting. It just pisses me off that a man who is under intense media scrutiny has the arrogance to believe that we the viewing public are too simple to “get” him with his newly pierced, diamond stud ears, backwards ball cap, converse sneakers, Malboro’s, and blonde “girlfriends.” Grow up, Jon Gosselin. We “get” you. You’re a man who wants to be a kid again; who can’t take the heat in the kitchen; who needs to rebel against the system; who has "needs" only a 22 yr old can meet; who keeps getting his hand caught in the cookie jar (or bank account); and who needs his TLC cake and freedom too. Gimme a break... We’re watching-and yes, even judging. But so are eight little pairs of eyes of ears.
Shame. On. You. ….jerk.

Lover's Quarrel

Human or animal-all lovers' spats sound about the same. You may not speak "cat" but the message is loud and clear. This is better than a soap opera... Team orange tabby!!!

GOYA TUES

GOYA TUES

Hope you enjoyed the artwork. Two special friends saw this plaque and instantly thought of me and knew I would treasure this forever. And right they are! It’s really quite disconcerting (and amusing) to see your life summarized on a little, wooden plaque. Just gotta own it, I guess. And now I do!

Get Off Your Ass Tues. Report:
1. I did weigh in last Tues. I’m 5 lbs better off than I thought I would be…but the grand total is too tragic to brag about. Owning the number is a b*tch. So I’m giving myself bonus points on this one.
2. Did not walk (or rather attend) my bible study group. BUT I walked 5 grueling laps around my school on this day. So I’m giving myself full credit on this one.
3. As you saw in my earlier posts, I did NOT go camping in the freezing temps this weekend. So not complaining turned out pretty well. If I had been there…it would have been U-G-L-Y. I would have taken bitchin’ too an atomic level. So let’s just say I dodged the failure bullet on that one-barely.

GOYA Goal for this week:
Next week I am re-joining the local fat farm (ie Weight Watchers). So I am spending this week working on my piss-poor attitude and homicidal dieting tendencies. I know this may not seem like a worthy goal-but seriously-it's harder work than you might imagine. If you have ever lost the same 20 lbs repeatedly (plus some each go around), then you can appreciate the pissiness another trip around the fat farm might entail. Especially since I suffer from the F-IT disorder... Here's a little joke that will hopefully put me in the right frame of mind this week:

I went to the doctor for my yearly physical. The nurse starts with certain basics.
"How much do you weigh?" she asks. I say, "135."
The nurse puts me on the scale. It turns out my weight is 180.
The nurse asks, "Your height?" I answer, "5 feet 4 inches."
The nurse checks and sees that I only measure 5 feet 2 inches.
She then takes my blood pressure and tells me that it's very high.
"Of course it's high!" I scream."When I came in here I was tall and slender! Now I'm short and fat!"
She put me on Prozac.
What a bitch.

Have a Great Get Off Your Ass Tuesday!!!

Pre-adolescent Advice

Big Kid: Alright, Mom! Those essays aren't gonna grade themselves. Better hop to it!

Me: (internal monologue) .....don't wanna.....dammit.....sigh.

What's Cookin'?

Found this in the pantry. Guess I'll cook it for dinner.

Health Plan

One of the advantages of being disorderly is that one is constantly making exciting discoveries. Winnie the Pooh's Creator A. A. Milne

I have determined that venturing upstairs to the boy quarters is bad for one’s health. Heart rate, pulse, blood pressure immediately spike. Followed by shallow breathing, rapid blinking, dizziness, and intense pressure in the chest and head. Sinus and sphincters twitch as you slide into shock:

A collection of dead batteries and broken pencils !?!
Towels jammed around the pee stained toilet !?!
Lego and bionicle shrapnel in your machine gun alley hallway !?!
Plastic guns wedged in the book case !?!
The remote control in the sink !?!
Couch cushions lined up as an obstacle course !?!
Bows and arrows leaned up against the fish tank !?!
Dirty sock grenades behind every piece of furniture !?!
Miniature Army men with trained assualt rifles who monitor your every move !?!
A pepsi can under the bed !?!
Is that a booger ON THE WALL !?!?!?!?!?!?!

I have blocked out the remaining 92% of the damage. There has got to be a pill for this.

FYI

love a good cup of coffee
love a good book & full day to read it
love a snow day from school
love a wicked, perverse sense of humor
love shark week
love maffia movies
love a clean house
love red purses, gloves, jackets, kitchens, toe nail polish
love border collies
love a well chosen curse word
love kid art
love diet pepsi
love lip gloss

hate the end of the 6 wks & 149 papers left to grade
hate laundry & mopping & dirty bathrooms
hate AT&T (a rip off!)
hate finding nothing on TV and paying for it
hate passivity & injustice
hate yappy, small dogs with giant egos
hate spontaneity
hate buying teacher gifts (ha!!!)
hate having too much month at the end of the money

Camping Report

Mr B (who is camping in the wet & cold this weekend) has spent more time talking to me on the phone today than he would have had he been here sitting in his man-chair surfing the internet. You KNOW it's gotta be bad...just sayin'...

Mr B's camping buddies inquired of my whereabouts while standing around the fire. "Isn't she staying in the lodge instead of tent camping?" Mr B's response: "She says it's too cold and wet to be camping in a lodge." And all those men stood around the campfire totally flummoxed by this logic. Go figure...

Camping: nature's way of promoting the motel industry.
~Dave Barry

Some national parks have long waiting lists for camping reservations. When you have to wait a year to sleep next to a tree, something is wrong. ~George Carlin

Reminders

Advice from Shakespeare's Hamlet:
Neither a borrower, nor a lender be;
For loan oft loses both itself and friend...
This above all: to thine own self be true,
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.
Farewell; my blessing season this in thee!

Got up early today to drop off big kid at the school for a Cross Country race (raining, 43 degrees). Since neither parent is going with him, I‘m going through the list of do-you-have-now-remembers with him as he’s sliding across the wood floors, halfway listening, singing under his breath while totally oblivious to my neurotic packing & rechecking. I finally determine that yes, he probably has everything he needs (and a little more) and has at least heard 27% of what I’ve said. So as I hustle him out the door, he says, “Mom, you forgot my encouragement speech.” I look at him blankly. “You know, the one dad always gives me.” And for a split second I have the urge to say, “Eman-run your ass off!” But I push the evil wordy-dird imp (who roams around my head like a chimp on crack) back into its box. We just don’t have time for all the ‘splaining and prayin’ that the puritanical big kid would require if he heard his mother deliberately say a wordy-dird (he understands I crack under pressure and can’t be held accountable for every slip up-and he's not fool enough to call me out on these occasions). So after a moment's hesitation, inspiration kicks into overdrive and I proclaim, “I want you to listen!….. and ….remember!…..and don’t!…. and you’d better!….So when…!…And lastly... Finally...!” During this speech I call upon centuries of time honored mother wisdom that would make all of womankind PROUD. No mother who has ever sent off a son could have done better. So after seven rousing minutes of this passionate entreaty, he looks at me and says, “Dad, does a better job at this than you do.”

...Next time, I’m gonna tell him, “Eman-run your ass off!”

You're Invited!

Local Pals: You're Invited to the Wild Angels Party on Oct 23rd, 6-9 PM!

Come sample the goodies and wines (such as Pineapple, Chocolate Raspberry, and many more!), shop for one-of-a-kind jewelry pieces, and have your palm/fortune read by Madame Z-a New Orleans trained reader!

Can't wait! Need more details? Contact me at blitherblather@rocketmail.com

???

Irony: big kid got an A in band... WT...???

The devil made me do it...

This morning I overheard a hollerin' exchange between lil' brother & big kid who were in their respective rooms getting ready for school:

lil' brother: .....oh, crap!!!!
big kid: noah, don't say that! that's not nice! say 'shoot' instead, ok?
lil' brother: okaaaaaayyyyy!!!! (top of lungs) SHIT!

Big kid literally falls out into an apoplectic fit and lectures lil' brother for so long and so hard while layering on the guilt and shame that I actually start to feel sorry for lil' brother-and a little panicked for myself. What if lil' brother rats me out? Please let him blame his dad.... but lil' brother gets no chance to explain or defend. Because big kid is wound up tighter than a Baptist preacher and he's still carrying on-only at a louder volume now. Looks like big kid is bringing puritan back into fashion at our house. And just so big kid wouldn't get after me, I hollered up the obligatory, "Hey! Enough with the bad language up there!"

But to be truthful, I think lil' brother did that on purpose. I get it-I really do. Because I'm cursed with the same affliction. Sometimes the devil just makes you do it!

Get Up Off Your @ss Tues!

Just want ya’ll to know that I’ve really been kicking myself in the butt for promising that I was gonna make Tuesdays Get Up Off Your Ass Day. Now I’m panicking that I’ve made a public proclamation and am gonna have to Get Up Off My Ass…. Ok-I guess that WAS the whole point….

So here’s my struggle: diet & exercise. Hate them both equally. But I have some damage to repair from the previous year. So I’m gonna use public pressure to manipulate myself into getting started. Pretty sneaky, huh???

So here are my 3 goals for the week:

1. Weigh in on Tues (pee first, get completely naked, turn out lights except for night light, bend one knee slightly to relieve some scale pressure, squint eyes nearly shut, then quickly peak at the numbers while holding my breath, subtract three just cuz, and jump back in the bed and pretend that it was all just a bad dream).
2. Walk to my neighborhood bible study group meeting on Wednesday instead of driving my lazy ass there.
3. I will not complain about camping this weekend. I will not complain about camping this weekend. I will not complain…. Surely all this self restraint will burn calories, right???

Oh, hell. This is gonna be hard...

Feel free to post your own Get up Off Your Ass Goal!

Monster Mash

Try JibJab Sendables® eCards today!

Top Secret

Just received a hot off the press, high security secret message from a mom-friend of mine. Her daughter has confessed to “liking” big kid and thinks he’s “hot.” This is exciting news!!! Because this sweet girl is so precious. I absolutely adore her. Of course this is our secret-FOR LIFE (the things men aren't privy to is just astounding, isn't it?). Big kid just doesn’t need to know this. The good news: his thoughts are as pure as purified water about my friend’s daughter. And I wouldn't change this for all the tea in China. He’s just so clueless at this stage of the game. Right now big kid’s interests lie in paintball, camping, running, WWII, guns, weapons in general, metal music, YouTube, and The Matrix. This is eventually gonna change. And I hope to be ready for it when it does. But it sure is sweet to know that someone (who isn’t even related to him) can see what I see in big kid-a beautiful boy with a great heart and spirit. Now what could be sweeter than that?

Day One

Went back to work for one day....numb...I need a vacation....soon.

Retraction

OK-so the brass ensemble at MTSU was really lovely-truly. The surprising richness of the tuba is like snuggling up in a warm quilt on a cool evening. And those joyful trumpets-like clear, pure, mountain water tripping and gliding over cold, smooth stones. So big kid has his work cut out for him now that I know what a trumpet SHOULD sound like. At this stage of the game, I'm hearing gravel mud pies splatting up against a window. So maybe he can practice in the back yard-close to the woods. Winter's coming. So he better hurry up and start hitting a few good notes.

Behind the Scenes

Mr B just finished reading my previous post (below). So he says to me, "Just remember while you were going down in that nosedive, we were in that plane with you!" And he chuckled. And I blankly stare back at him without smiling, moving my head, or responding-the sinister pulsing of my evil eye the only movement in the hushed room. So he mumbles that he has "stuff to do" in the garage and shuffles out of my presence. That's what I thought...

We're going to the local college in a few hours to hear a brass ensemble so big kid can earn some bonus pts for band since we don't allow him to play his trumpet anywhere near us. So these bonus pts are not so that he can get A in band-but so he doesn't get an F. Now that I think about it-not only do I not want to hear someone who CAN'T play the horn-not sure I want to hear people who CAN... Good thing my kids aren't prodigies since I'm clearly not pushing excellence here.

More Interesting News: Spaghetti Night! I made a chunky sauce with lots of veggies and meatballs-letting it stew for an hour. And oh, it'll be good gravy!

Been reading my new book An Echo in the Bone. So nice to be taking a journey with dear friends!

Button Therapy

October marks the one year anniversary of my downward spiral into my own personal swampland-of-emotional-hell. So that meant I spent longer in the shower this morning than I should have contemplating how much of the “truth” I was willing to put out there in the blogospere. (Side note: the blogospehere is this strange, dark space where “letting go” feels really weightless and amazing-until you bump knees in the dark with someone.) So because I’m really not an overly sentimental type-going into gory detail about my personal hell is really not my style. You’ll have to trust me without actually handling the evidence yourself-OK? Some of my personal baggage was explainable and understandable; other parts were freaky and frightening (btw-I turned 40 in the midst of this good time-being a midlife crisis cliche is a b*tch to get over!). And honestly-I very nearly didn’t pull out of the nosedive. It was only in May of ‘09 that I finally clawed my way up the muddy, slippery bank-numb and spent-but still gasping for air. At some point I did consider going into therapy. But at heart I’m a cheap-skate-commitment-phobe who isn’t willing to give away a lot of time or money to a stranger who may (or may not) be smarter than me when it comes to armchair therapy (the fact that I have watched a lot of Oprah probably means I’m way too snobbish about self analysis). But I knew if I laid down on the couch with a good therapist at my side (feeding me grapes)-I would NEVER get up. So my personal remedies consisted of: blog therapy; “happy pills” that Dr Girl-Child compassionately, emphatically insisted on; hug-a-boy therapy; girlfriend laughter therapy; blame others therapy (very satisfying-but problematic); get over it therapy (no fun); and F-it therapy (more like a personal philosophy, I suppose).

So the long and short is-it's working: energy, warmth, curiosity, trust, and happiness (please don’t let me jinx this!) have seeped in. So now I’m ready to take another step in my self-help journey. So I have decided that every Tuesday (from now til December 1st) is gonna be Get Up Off Your Ass and Get Over It Tuesday. What does that mean for you-before you X out of this blog-totally creeped out??? Well, each week I’m gonna set a Get Over It Goal, and every Tuesday I’m gonna report the TRUTH about how/when/if I met those goals. And I promise not to over-tax you with the details (only 8 Tuesdays-for your sanity and mine). So, if you’ve ever gone to hell and back and feel like joining this messy process, please post your goal/truth report/tips/suggestions in the comment section and keep us updated. And if it's only me spilling my guts...there's gonna be a punishment for some of you. How's that for motivation?

…..So let’s see what happens... The worst??? We resort to F-it therapy!

ALERT! ALERT! ALERT!

MUST READ: shitmydadsays (on twitter) by Justin (age 29) who lives with his 73 year old dad (see my blog list).

Justin's dad is sooooooo hilarious that I nearly aspirated, coughed up nasty chunks of lung, peed (just a little) in my pink jammies, and had to wipe tears off my chin and chest. Mr B loves Justin's dad, too. He keeps quoting him while holding his sides and tears roll down his cheeks. And trust me-he's not into all these girlie blogs either. So it has the man stamp of approval (ie: lots of bad language/poop/sex references).

Warning: potty first, grab a box of tissues, and make your hubby sit beside you so you don't have to repeat each line 4 times as you snort, choke, and laugh your @ss off. Shitmydasays will affirm your belief that old peolpe are "adorable!" Get ready....!!!

http://twitter.com/shitmydadsays

It's a Wrap!

Ok-fall break is almost over. And reality rang the d*mn doorbell on my house party. So it’s back to work I go-hi ho, hi ho, hi ho! So instead of boring you with a list of what I have accomplished (because really-who cares, right???), I thought I’d tell you about what I didn’t get around to this go around:

(What Not) To-Do List:
Grading essays: nope-nada-didn’t even cross my mind. The ungraded essay is like the cockroach: it will always be around. So why not learn to live with them?
Cleaning out the boys’ closets: a wise Chinese man once said-let sleeping closets lie. And I don't mess around with ancient Asians...
Decorating for Halloween: not feeling creeped out enough to put weird, dead stuff around my house.
Exercising/refraining from guilty pleasures: sour cream & onion chips for breakfast are fab. And checking Facebook 9,476 times an hour takes commitment-and surely burns at least one calorie.
Wearing real clothes: the red plaid bathrobe is an all-occasion-wardrobe MUST. Anyone who rings my doorbell-get ready to see it in all its glory (just ask the swimmers at the pool).
Pedicure: ½ way completed-but with flip flop season nearly over, why the h*ll bother???
Ignored required reading: this will give my bible study group a real reason to pray for me-no more making it up as I go.

Words of Wisdom from the Oracle of Undone Housework:
My theory on housework is, if the item doesn't multiply, smell, catch fire, or block the refrigerator door, let it be. No one else cares. Why should you?
Erma Bombeck:

Guest Blogger! Ms TAMPONelli!

I met Ms Judy TAMPONelli this summer at a school event. She is one of those "friends" who just can't take a hint-and is always popping in for a surprise visit-usually at the wrong time-of course. Many of you are friends with her already-even though your husbands are highly suspicious of her. However, she is on FaceBook-so look her up and send her a friend request. She's a bloody riot!!! Posted below is our most recent communication:

Dearest Q of Blither Blather,

I am so glad that we saw each other at our monthly meeting. You have fervently pursued our friendship for the past ....... years and I thank you for your dedication to our relationship. We met, when? I think you were a budding young lady of thirteen, weren't you? We were bound to meet eventually, right? I have embraced a large circle of female friends and seem to always lose one or two. With the exception of 1998 and 2002, we have been inseparable! I'd hope that you would say that I have never let you down and that I have been there to absorb your problems on a regular basis. I have been thinking about the future of our friendship recently. Let's face it, you turned forty this year. How much longer will you really need me in your life?? I don't have many memories without you in them. No matter what I was into--cardboard, plastic you stood by me. We don't have much of a legacy that we can pass to your boys, do we? If you had a daughter, maybe we could continue to be in contact in the future. Promise me you won't turn away from the surprising moments we shared--at school, church, parties, work, and just kickin' it around the house.

Yours in protection forever,
Judy (*minor changes in text from author's original)


My response to Judy's missive:

Dear Judy:
I told Dr Girl-Child about your impromptu visits. And she's not too happy with your erratic behavior. So we may not be catching up at our monthly meetings too much longer. When I told Mr B about this-he was relieved. He says you stay toooooo long and the return visits seem to be getting closer and closer together. I'm sure you'd agree-you don't have very many male supporters at your monthly meetings. So Bon Voayage, darlin'! I have some girlfriends however, who'll gladly still accept your monthly invitations. Pick on them for a while.

With relief in sight,
Q of Blither Blather

Creed

I believe in...
Telling it like it is
Owning it
Taking my medicine straight up
Stepping up to the plate
Fighting back
Smiling through bloody teeth
Moving on
Planning, Planning, Planning
Embellishing a good story into a great one
Using wordy-dirds as therapy
Applying salty humor to any situation
Never leaving home without lipstick
Sunglasses make you look thinner
Loyalty and honesty-above all else

Breaking News: My parenting comment was accepted/posted on Ashley's Closet homepage(my fav blog)!!! I feel like a "winner!" Better hurry to see it---this blog is covered in reader comments!

Complaint Manager

Complaint Department

Blither Blather has gone all up-town since reaching 50 plus readers. So to keep up with the demands of a busy (off the rails) blog, I have hired a new employee. Her name is Ms. Beatrice BreakingPoint. She will be the Manager of the Complaint Department here at Blither Blather headquarters. Please feel free to email us at: blitherblather@rocketmail.com to complain, offer suggestions, get clarification, suggest new topics or links, express sympathy or surprise or horror, or just to pass on idle gossip (Ms Beatrice BreakingPoint sniffed at this aspect of her job duties).

Ms. Beatrice BreakingPoint is a retired schoolteacher who has 50 years in the trenches; as you might imagine, she does not suffer fools lightly. Ms Beatrice BreakingPoint informed me of her educational philosophy during our interview: she does not tolerate "funny business." On that note, SHE informed ME what days, times, etc., her services would be available and what tasks she is willing to perform (a very short list) and more importantly what tasks she will NOT perform (a longer, more detailed list). Of course, the good news is that as a retired schoolteacher, she is willing to work for $3.75 a week-quite a bonus from her daily 50 cent earnings from her retirement fund. So how could I say no to slave labor??? So please make Ms Beatrice BreakingPoint feel at home at Blither Blather (she has already informed me that the name of this blog is completely juvenile and silly, and she has plans to elevate the nature of the content and discussions beginning IMMEDIATELY). It looks like Ms B. BreakingPoint will not only be handling YOUR complaints, but offering up some of her own...

The first 5 emailers to contact Ms Beatrice BreakingPoint at blitherblather@rocketmail.com will get a SNEAK PEAK at the NEW SECRET RECIPE (you share-you die!!!) that will be debuted on October 23rd at the Wild Angels Jewelry party. Stay tuned for more updates from Ms Beatrice BreakingPoint!

Oooo La La!!!

Bonjour!!!

Confession: I have the joi de vivre of a flamboyant Francophile. All things "Paris" (the tackier the better) make me weak in the knees. I love brie cheese, french art, french accents, french country kitchens, tacky Eiffel Tower statues, postcards, etc. So I stumbled across a little French blog by a young woman who is living my alter-ego life as an au pair in France. So if I can't live in France-at least I can read about it. Hope you enjoy La Vie de Clair, L'Au Pair! (see my blog postings to click on her link)

Au revoir, mes amies!

Paradox (n) a contradiction

*I love a clean house: But housework is a b*tch!
*Buying new clothes is a thrill: Until you have to wash 9 loads every Saturday.
*Being thin is the way to live: Unless you have to diet and exercise.
*Being a winner is the ultimate thrill: but losers always gain more.
*Being a mother is the best job on earth: If you like being a slave to loud, obnoxious, messy, people.
*Staying at home would be the ultimate job: As long as no one ever needed anything.
*Even lying on a beach in paradise would eventually become drudgery without the opportunity to b*tch about chores, work, & family obligations!

....C'est la vie!
(phrase of the week-please join me in this movement)

Self Portrait

...C'est la vie! Nothing lost...nothing gained.

Eating Crow

Ok-this is embarrassing and painful-honestly. But I promised myself that I would use this blog to be truthful and authentic about my experiences. So here goes: I posted an entry yesterday that I later regretted and then deleted-but unfortunately several of you read it before I had the chance to redeem myself. Honestly, this posting was rash, mean spirited, and unreasonable. Although no names were mentioned and the identities of the innocent were protected, I have to OWN this bad decision. I am a big believer in OWNING IT and looking it dead in the eyes. Even when it's uncomfortable and unflattering. So I'm taking my medicine straight up. No lolly-gaggin' around.

This is no justification- but sometimes you take a ride on the crazy train, and it's really quite exciting in the moment. But afterwards-crazy ain't all that great. And trying to defend crazy just makes me-well-crazy. So the lesson here? Discretion and temperance. Living out loud sure ain't easy. And THAT'S the truth.

Girlfriend Vows

If you’re a hater-so am I.
If you think she’s a #@%!-I’m a total believer. No proof necessary.
If you talk smack-I’m rolling up my sleeves and will trash talk 5 minutes more than you.
If you become paranoid-I am looking over my shoulder too. Hey, did you SEE THAT!?!
If you take a ride on the crazy train-I’m buying a ticket and sitting in the front seat.
And when you’re over it-I will totally assure you of how fair and reasonable and long suffering you have been through it all.

Now what man could promise ALL THAT???

Farmer in the Dale

On our return trip home, Mr B tells me a story about a farmer’s wife that he used to work with. Clearly the pastoral scenery of old barns and cows contendedly grazing prompts this tale:

According to Mr B, this wife would rise every morning before her farmer hubby and would start frying and baking up a large, full spread country breakfast that would put Shoney’s to shame (Mr B took 7 minutes to describe all the food she cooks-but I trust my reader’s vivid imagination here); she would then set out his clothes and boots for him; make and pack his lunches which she wrapped in wax paper because that was how his mother did it (and it made the food taste better); she would fill the thermos with piping, hot coffee; load his supplies in his truck for him; and then start the engine so the truck would be warm by the time he got in. By the time Mr B finished this tale, his admiration and awe for the farmer and his wife had risen to epic proportions.

With genuine curiosity, because I am completely engaged by the quality of detail Mr B has delivered in this little tale, I ask, “So what would you do if I started your car for you in the morning?”

Mr B then turns to me, looks me up and down, and without a trace of mirth or verbal irony looks me dead in the eye and says, “I’d look for the bomb underneath.”

…And I can’t say that I would blame him. Mr B is no dummy. A farmer’s wife I ain’t.

Hi-Ho the Dairy-Oh! The farmer in the dale!

Would You Rather

A real world Would-You-Rather dilemma:
Here goes...Would you rather....

be locked in a hotel room with 2 kids ramped up on diet pepsi, funnel cake, and chocolate covered ice cream who are Kamikazi leaping from bed to bed while shrieking and beating the crap out of each other with the two foam swords you bought that seemed like a good idea at the time because there are no kid channels on the TV...???

OR....

be with Mr B at the high school band reunion listening to Stephanie Jo talk about the time in 10th grade when the flute section got wild and crazy on the bus trip to FL over spring break while the wife of the tuba player has you cornered as she tells you about the time her sister dated the 1st chair trombone player and her clarinet rival threatened to kick her ass ....???

Trauma

Mr B was traumatized yesterday when he had to take the Good Child to Pet Smart to update his shots. Poor Good Child has to go to doggie jail while we have our weekend of fun. He will be VERY depressed when he discovers this. I wonder if there is a happy pill for smart/sensitive furry types...???? .....Sorry! Digression....

Good Child is so happy to be taking a field trip in the car with Mr B that he is bounding all over the cab nearly causing Mr B to sideswipe several old ladies in big cars. He finally parks, gets Good Child on the leash when he is jerked and clawed toward the front door. Where Good Child-without thought to public opinion-takes the dump of the century at the front door. Mr B said it was the most unbelievable heap of nasty..... he has EVER seen. So he cleans it up-of course-while trying not to gag. Once inside the store Mr B is jerked down the fish aisle where Good Child seizes up and vomits the contents of his entire digestive system. And of course Mr B has to clean that up as well while Good Child is clawing his way to the psychotic chihuahua who is barking (tattle-telling) its f'in head off. And that's when his boss calls...while he is dealing with smeared vomit and lunging dog while trying to hold the fish supplies. He finally makes it over to the waiting area, when the receptionist spies Good Child and is so overcome by his cuteness that she baby talks to him in the highest, most exciting voice known to womankind-which causes good child to get so ramped up (and worried that his mama is not with him and that Mr B probably doesn't know what he's doing) that he lifts his leg and pisses a RIVER all over her receptionist desk. People have to move their possessions and animals so Mr B can MOP up this area on his hands and knees while Good Child is lunging and clawing his way toward the timid Boxer who is totally being traumatized by the psychotic chihuahua-who is still barking (tattle-telling) its f'in head off. Finally Mr B takes a seat and feeds Good Child 20 bones while they wait to be seen...

Mr B reports that once home, Good Child took a 4 hour nap and DID NOT MOVE. And when I got home, Good Child was so exhasuted that he could barely wag his tail. Until I asked big kid to get something out of my "car"-which caused Good Child to bound to the front door and dance himself ridiculous at the idea of another field trip. No f'in way...

Bad News

Noah has to learn to spell "bruise" by Friday-as in TOMORROW. We haven't recovered from our efforts to spell "sandwich" three weeks ago. BTW-he never spelled it the same way twice in NINE tries. So I give up. What's wrong with "samich" anyway??? People are so picky nowadays. So I'm searching for a permanent Sharpie so I can write it on his hand. And yes, he will be wearing a long sleeve shirt every Friday from now on. And yes, he will probably be fully tattooed in spelling words by his wedding day. But at least baby will know how to spell "samich."

And if you've got a problem with this-tell it to the hand.

Not Worth Mentioning

Sometimes noticing the little stuff is pretty cool, huh?

Finally got enough sleep last night. I've recently become a night owl-the first time EVER. For some reason I can't seem to get my ass off the computer at night. But Mr B INSISTED that I get in the bed super early. He acts like screaming with exhaustion at innocent (right!) children to get their act together in the morning is some crime against humanity or something. But I do feel better (& more humanitarian)...but will probably not tell him so.

Got to turn the calendar this morning! Isn't that always fun?!?!?! It only happens once a month....but ve-ry exciting when it happens. I'm a big fan of tracking time. Tempus Fugit!

So glad that chilly, invigorating October is here!