Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Everything I Ever Wanted to Say on Facebook, but Couldn't

Well, maybe not everything, but here's a sampling...

(note: These are all Status Updates, unless marked with a C; C=comment I would make after posting previous SU.)

Warning: Not All of this will be Pretty... and Not All of this will be True!

Robin is dreading going back to work.
C: Teaching?! What was I thinking?!!

Robin hates waking up early.
C: Teaching?! What was I thinking?!!

Robin needs to go to the bathroom.

Robin thinks it's idiotic to tell people every little thing your kid does in your FB status.
C: A la "my little sweetie said the funniest joke today..." and then proceed to repeat it. Not so much.

Robin wants you to unfriend her if you must bash Obama in your FB status.

Robin wishes she could "hide" friends from her FB feed on her iPhone the way she can on her laptop.
C: I really don't want to read what a lot of you have to say!

Robin doesn't understand the whole wishing "Happy Birthday" to your child on FB status update.
C: Are they on FB too? Can they even read?!

Robin is lazy and unmotivated.

Robin is working out like a madwoman!
C: Haven't lost a dang pound due to all the ice-cream and alcohol I've consumed this summer, but I haven't gained either, so it's all good:)

Robin Three days til we leave for our trip... anxiety setting in. I hate packing. I hate packing. I hate packing.

Robin has her period.
C: So say something nice, dammit!

Robin got laid.
C: The other party is obvious, folks...

Robin will try not to put cryptic messages as status updates.

Robin has nothing to eat.
C: Chocolate chips and wine do not a dinner make.

Robin has a fucking headache.

Robin is drinking (again).

Robin loves Dora the Explorer.
C: But not that bastard, Backpack.

Robin wants to be the whitest person at the end of summer.

Robin They don't make an SPF strong enough for me!!

Robin thinks a good tan is a sign of stupidity.
C: Sorry if I've offended anyone. But, seriously, ozone layer, people! Ozone layer.

Robin is going out with her REAL friends for a beer.
C: I don't really drink beer, but I just wanted to see if you were paying attention. Or if you felt bad because you weren't invited...

Robin is bored with Facebook. Doesn't anyone have anything funny to say?!

Robin needs to get off the computer and pay attention to the little people in her midst.

Feel free to add your own in the comments (using your own name, of course!).

Sunday, June 28, 2009

He's Out of My Life

"And I don't know whether to laugh or cry. I don't know whether to live or die. And it cuts like a knife." He's out of my life...

Well, that's a little dramatic, but still. Michael Jackson played a huge part in my tween and teenage years. I loved his music. I loved him. I tried to do all his dance moves and knew the words to all the songs. There were posters of him (and his brothers) on my bedroom walls. At 15 I camped out for tickets to the Victory Tour concert and got third row center seats in Atlanta Fulton County stadium (no small feat). During Billie Jean, when he threw the hat, I caught it! Then some adult male grabbed it away from me and I couldn't get it back. And, yes, I cried.

So his death DOES feel like a loss. Despite what has happened to him and his actions of the past 15 or so years, there is no disputing that he was a musical genius. There is no disputing that his music moved us all in one way or another. And there is no disputing that, unless you are musically retarded, his popular songs will evoke memories. Perhaps they won't be specific memories, but the music will bring you back to a time... hopefully a happy time. "We Are the World" meant so much to me, back in the day. As did "Thriller" when it debuted on MTV. I remember waiting for it, jumping up and down in anticipation. And some of my girlfriends and I choreographed our school dance class performance to "Beat It". There was no other artist's music we would have chosen. It had to be Michael.

Not only am I sad for the loss of MJ though. I am sad that a part of my life that was so happy is so over. I'm barely in touch with people from this time in my life, and (I think this has been obvious in my previous posts) my family doesn't seem to get me or know me at all. I know it's just the natural order of things (not the family part, but the moving on part), and I love the friends I have made as an adult. But sometimes I wish I had done a better job of keeping in touch over the years. (Even Facebook can't really help you pick up where you left off.) And then I'd tell my old friends from this happy time what I wish someone would have told me on Thursday, "I'm so sorry for your loss."

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

Why Do All My Good Posts Have to End with WTF?!

This fall I go back to work. I am a teacher. I can't really complain. I get summers and holidays off. I don't have to work in an office from 8 to 5 with only a few weeks of vacation per year. This is a good career for a mom.

There are a few problems, however, and this post has been years in the making. I knew that I wouldn't be able to be a stay at home mom forever. Well, if we had kept the lesser house, or moved into a lesser neighborhood, then I might have had a longer run. But as it stands, I've been on a leave of absence for about two and a half years, and I had another year of leave of absence when I had the Diva (the 05-06 school year). I had the opportunity to make something else happen, and I tried to do the tutoring thing, I dabbled with the pre-school Spanish classes idea, I searched endlessly on job sites, Craigslist and even interviewed for several different positions. I did get a job during this time, and I have been working, tutoring the Korean family in English, as you may or may not know. But sadly, this job only gives me a finite number of hours, and I don't make enough to stay home and just do this. My biggest obstacle is Drew, who, in his infinite wisdom, actually makes sense of our finances and knows that we just keep sinking deeper into debt - there's no place for me to go but back to work. Or do something that brings in the piddly 40K I make every year.

So, as you can imagine, I have a constant stream of what ifs running through my head. What if we had stayed at the old house? What if I had just worked a little harder on getting a part-time gig? What if I ran a business out of my home like so many other moms? What if I posted it on Twitter or Facebook and told everyone I knew that I just need to make x amount of money... isn't there some secretarial work I can do for them from my home?! But I feel like the opportunity has passed, my fate is sealed, and my children will be away from me for much longer than I would like. I'm too ashamed that I didn't make it happen. But I do know why it didn't happen.

Contrary to what you might think, I am not a super motivated person. I am not what you would call a go-getter, although when I jetted off to Spain and started my own tutoring business in my 20s, you would think that that was my middle name! I come by this lack of drive honestly. I don't think I was encouraged to follow dreams, and I certainly didn't have much in the way of vocational counseling. I knew my parents didn't have a lot of money at an early age, and there were always job issues with one of my parents (I won't name names). Teacher became the obvious career choice for a Spanish major, and I haven't had it in me to deviate from this course. I know that it's not too late for me to change career paths, but being that I've been home for two plus years and haven't figured it out or made it happen, I often wonder if I ever will.

I only cry sometimes, and the rest of the time I suck it up and face the music. Or look for a new job. But the reality of it is I love my daughters. I love them so much, I just want to spend a little more time with them. I think two is too early to go off to "school" every day, and the Diva has another full year until K, so I should get to spend some more time with her before she goes. I keep my spirits up by telling myself that the school will be good for them. They'll meet friends, have great teachers and constant planned activities to learn new things. It'll be fun! Besides, being a SAHM is hard! I'm not always happy when I'm doing it, and I often get annoyed with the girls. So it'll be good for me too. I tell myself this. It helps.

Then on Father's Day, I had a conversation with my father. Who said, and I quote, "You're going back to work full time. Aww. That's too bad. They're still so young. I hope the Li'l Rascal doesn't resent you. You resented your mother when she went back to work and you were four. She's only two."

I have no words.

Thursday, June 11, 2009

Help! I've Shredded and I Can't Get Up!

I just started Jillian Michaels' 30 Day Shred. I consider myself in shape. Just need to shed a few unwanted pounds. But I work out five times a week, on the average. CLEARLY I am not doing enough. Or am old sack of potatoes. Because half way in, (a 25 minute workout, more or less) I was FEELING THE PAIN. Pain, I tell you. It was my body screaming, "YOU'RE NOT GOING TO BE ABLE TO MOVE TOMORROW IF YOU CONTINUE!" But I did. And I'm sore. And Drew has a sprained ankle. Not from the Shred. Can someone please come over and scrape us off the floor and watch our kids? More soon. (If I can lift my arms to type, that is.)

Sunday, May 31, 2009

Screwed Up Again or Why I Can Never Have a Profile

I set my students up with blogs (they're Middle School students) and I have been EXTREMELY careful to leave comments as "Robin" under Name/URL, leaving out the URL. Until now. So I left two comments on one of their blogs just now, accidentally signed in as "Robin", but this time it was linked to THIS BLOG. So I had to shut down my profile. And I can't EVER put it back. Genius move, I know. I hope I don't have to move the blog altogether, but who knows?! Maybe it's just a sign that it's time to move on...

Friday, May 29, 2009

My Family is Crazier than Your Family

I know. I know. It's been a LONG time. And it's not that I've had nothing to say. I'm just coming to the end of my reign of unemployment, and I've been trying to maximize the time I've got left. I'm going to miss it. I'm going to miss THEM. Being a SAHM isn't always a picnic, but I've had a GOOD run, and I wish I could be with them longer, especially the Lil' Rascal, because she's only going to be two. Just a couple more years would be perfect.

But this post isn't about that. And believe me, I have enough job issues and Mommy Guilt for many a post to come. No, this post is for exactly what I said I wouldn't do. I mean, I shut down a whole blog because of all the venom I was spewing. But sometimes, just sometimes, a family trip can bring stuff up (and I don't mean the vomit in my mouth!).

So, the following is a list of hours of therapy it will take to repair the damage done by some of my family:

Mom's incessant need to answer both her cell and home phone, no matter what activity she's in the middle of doing? Half an hour

Tolerating her husband's sporadic outbursts of stupidity and/or verbal abuse? Three hours

Having to listen to my SIL's verbal diarrhea, which includes, but is not limited to: overuse of the word "wonderful", overpraising her children, AND telling her children they excel at whatever my girls were being praised for (us: good job eating your dinner, Diva. Her: "Oh, honey you're such a wonderful eater, too. Everything you do is so wonderful..." Seriously?!!)? Five hours

Watching my father virtually ignore the most precious creatures to ever enter into his life in order to (again, this list includes, but is not limited to...) look at Susan Boyle on YouTube, talk to his local family members who he sees all the time, show people his latest paintings (I get it, but still...), and OBVIOUSLY, take pictures of these precious commodities instead of interacting with them? Six hours

Hearing that my brother got upset with my father because he donates money to the foundation honoring his dead wife, saying that he should instead give the money to his children's college funds, because said dead wife abused him?!!


Sunday, April 12, 2009

I'm On A Boat

Well, I was trying to upload this really cute picture of my and Bonniemot's kids (bad grammar, I know, but I don't care...) and since I sent it from my phone to my Facebook page, I couldn't figure out how to get it bigger than a thumbnail. Anyway, the point of the whole upload is to show the pure glee that our kids are getting from finally being released into the sunshine, the playground, and something that some people call SPRING! We usually just get mud season, but this year, I think we may actually be experiencing this Spring thing, and, I tell ya', it's quite a "boatload" of joy!

Speaking of boat, I was trying to think of a funny post (and that being said, I probably could not...), but I did have one idea. I know I've talked a lot lately about Facebook, both the good and bad of it. And I have to say, I have enjoyed connecting with some people from my past, seeing their beautiful children, and hearing about their vacations and hobbies. I have also enjoyed getting to know some of my local friends a little better this way, and have found it easy to message them to make plans, or constantly make snarky comments about their photos! (And they mine!) But it DID occur to me, as I've thought about the negative side of FB over the last few weeks that can anyone really, truly be herself on Facebook?!

Case in point: everyone is ALWAYS happy on Facebook. Some may say that their poor child has the sniffles, or I even had one friend who announced she lost her job, but most people are ALWAYS happy, going on vacation, deeply in love with their husband and children and taking their loved ones to all these fun places. COME ON!! Or as I would say if I were being myself on Facebook, "Bullfuckingshit!" You people are not always happy, and some of you MUST curse as much or more than me... so why don't I ever get a "fuckin' A!" or a "Holy shit!"? Everyone's so prim and proper, I want to puke up my ativan.

So, getting back to the photo at the top of the page. I ORIGINALLY took it at the playground, after running into Bonniemot's kids with their nanny (Bonniemot works full time from home... don't think she's some rich diva running around having drinks with her richy rich mommy friends). I then texted it to both Bonniemot and Drew with the caption, "We're on a boat! We're on a Motha'Fuckin' boat!" To which I, of course, got a couple of LOLs in return. And maybe even a ;). Anyway, on my way home, I decided I wanted to text it onto my FB page (while stopped at a traffic light, of course!!!). But the second I got home, I kind of panicked... and ran to the computer and changed it to what I taught the kids to say, "We're on a boat. We're on a mamamama boat!" Still cute. Still funny (if you don't know the video reference, I'll add the link at the end), but not me!

Anyway, my brain's still a little jellified from all the fun drugs I've been taking over the past week or so (neck and head are greatly improved BTW:), so I don't have much more to add to this post. But I'm going to concentrate on this. And coming soon will be a post called, "All the Things I Really Want to Say on Facebook, But Probably Shouldn't!"

Happy PassEaster!

Tuesday, April 7, 2009

Valium, Vicodin and Ativan, OH MY!

It seems that lately (maybe because I hovered around and then became 40) a lot of my post have to do with ailments, health scares and other fun issues. Well, in keeping with that theme, I've been absent from blogging, tweeting, Facebooking, and all things computer (more or less) for the past week because of a weird headache/neckache hoo-ha. And while I may jokingly call it "hoo-ha", it has been no laughing matter. First we thought it was a bad glasses prescription. Nope. Had it checked, and double checked by an opthamologist. He also ruled out the possibility of brain tumors. Gee thanks, I hadn't even gone down that path! But drugging up and laying in bed for two days (over the weekend, so Drew could take over the little thing we like to call parenting) should have done the trick, right? Wrong. I woke up Monday morning as if a ton of bricks had come crashing on the back of my skull, and I couldn't move my neck as if I'd been in a serious car wreck. I also felt dizzy, nauseous and was breaking out in a cold sweat. So, Drew took the day off of work and, luckily, my doctor decided to see me instead of sending me to the ER. The four advil I took in the morning was making my head feel better. The doc is an osteopath and she did some adjustments on me, which helped (at least while in the office) and recommended an icy hot patch for the back of my neck. Amazing... that actually helped too (well, that and some ativan). So yesterday, after all that, and getting the girls home for naps (with Drew's help), I rested in bed for a while. And while I could have stayed in bed all afternoon (AGAIN), I opted to get up and start organizing our piece of crap, shame of the household home office. And I worked on this for three hours! Feeling a little pain, but keeping moving and staying hydrated really helped. Drew had taken the girls to a friend's house and they all went out for pizza, so it was really quiet here (which helped the headache) and I didn't need to take anything stronger than that ativan (for muscle tension relief) until bedtime. And at bedtime, it was back to the strong stuff and the heating pad...
This morning I had the luxury of taking my time getting out of bed. I took it very easy. No sudden movements. I still ended up with the same scenario, but after so many days of it, maybe I'm just handling it better. Plus, I had the girls do a big project with me which kept us all busy. After naps, if it's not too miserable out (who knows?), I'll take them out for some fresh air.
The real drag of this whole ordeal (besides the constant excruciating pain) is the fact that I can't exercise. I mean, I've already fucked up my neck, I can't risk it getting worse. I was all excited to get my exercise bumped up into high gear (we've kept it at third gear during the winter!) and enjoy the exhiliration that a good run/walk/ride can bring. But it'll have to wait.
And then, I promise. No more inneroldlady posts! I'm sick of them too.

Friday, March 27, 2009

A Fleeting Moment

I've had some difficulty swallowing all that is Facebook for the last week or so. Just fed up, I guess. I'm OH SO MUCH MORE enthralled with Twitter. A place I don't have to block anyone (but I do anyway, those Christian pro-life right-wingers, who, for some reason, want to follow me). A place I can just be me.

But then something happened on Facebook that made it all worth it.

My "lil' sis" from cheerleading friended me. Only her info said "male". WTF?!!! Did she have a sex change? Was she a transgender? So, of COURSE I ADDED HER! And looking into her profile further, I discovered that she was living with a woman, and under her interests was "poop". Ok, this is weird.

So I stewed on that for a few hours (no pun intended) and messaged a friend who is also Facebook friends with him/her/whatever. Then I went back and looked at the profile.

Nothing to see here, folks. The woman she was living with? Her. The "male" is the character she is posing as on her Facebook page, either fictional or her pet (I don't want to put it exactly, because I don't want all my reader(s) to Google her.) I figured this out because the female she was "living with" had a photo of her and her dad. And while I might not recognize her after 20 years, her dad looks almost the same, just more grey hair.

So, for a brief instance, Facebook was good again. The excitement of finding out that a girl you once knew was a boy would have made it ALL WORTH IT!!! But no, it's still the same ol', same ol'... Me posting my oh-so-interesting observation about a flock of Canadian geese. Bonnie M.O.T. noticing some red shit over Detroit. People finding out what kind of stripper-mom they are, or what their real age is.

I'm not saying that I'm not going to continue to DO IT, I'm just saying...

Thursday, March 19, 2009

Recurring Dreams

So, I've been having a couple of recurring dreams for years now. One much more than the other. In the more recurring of the two, I am in Madrid, Spain. On holiday, not living there (as I REALLY did for three years after university). And it is time to return to the states. So I must get to the airport. Immediately. Only something always happens. Either I've left my passport back at my flat, or I must make a stop at El Corte Ingles to pick up that soap I liked (and some marzipan), or I have to pick up something from a store I can't find and I find myself wandering the narrow, winding cobblestone streets and alleys near the Plaza Mayor. Usually, I have called for the cab too late, or I'm in the cab but it's taking too long to get me to the airport, or I'm wasting time trying to get in one last "copa" before I hit the road. Typical. Nevertheless, I DO make it to the airport and then it's never REALLY the Barajas airport, but slightly more confusing. Often I am left at the wrong door, just as my plane is set to depart, and I have to run through the airport (a la O.J.), navigating various airlines, passport and ticket checks (oh, did I mention that I never have my ticket in these dreams) and practically running onto the runway to catch my flight... whew... back home to America.

In the second dream, I am in Santa Monica, California. I am breaking and entering in the home of my ex-boyfriend. It is an apartment. Not the same one he lived in when we dated, but somehow, after all these years, I know where it is. And even though we haven't spoken in years, I know that he has purposely left the sliding door on his balcony cracked so that I can let myself in. And I do. And I am able to snoop around a bit and get a sense of his life. Why I want to do this, I don't know. But I feel some sort of upper hand, some sort of advantage over his current wife or girlfriend. That I know she exists, but she doesn't know I exist. Nothing much else happens in these dreams. I usually just leave after a bit and go do something else. Return to my life. Wake up. Something.

Present day. Reality. Not a dream. Said ex-boyfriend messages me on Facebook. Doesn't friend me. Just messages me. My response is, "Why are you looking for me?" (I know he's married with a kid, thank you very much Google, but I still have no idea why, the minute I put my maiden name on my Facebook, he of 300 friends needs to message me.) His response is, of course, just curious, and how are you and yada yada yada. I messaged back to say that it was ironic that he wrote me on the very day we left L.A. And he messaged back again, "Married? Kids?" To which, I did not respond. At this point, I'm pretty sure, once you message someone on Facebook, you allow them to see the basics of your profile. So he must have peeked, right? He knew I was married and probably saw my profile picture, too.

A week or so goes by and now he requests to ADD ME AS A FRIEND on FACEBOOK. Oh, joy. So, I figure, I'll add him, but I'm BLOCKING him from almost everything on there. No need to get back in touch, but I don't want to be the bitter ex-girlfriend either (and lord knows I should, I got treated badly enough...).

So that night I had one of my recurring dreams. The Spain one. But this time, there's a twist. And I promise you that I am not even clever enough to make this up. I really dreamt it. HE is with me in Spain, and we have to travel back together. We are a couple and we might even be travelling with his family. (His mother was evil personified, btw.) So all the usual travel nightmares ensue, and I wake up more confused than ever.

A couple of days go by.

Ex-boyfriend now messages me on Facebook to say that "he was thinking of me the other day, and he wanted to apologize for how he treated me when we were dating (not that it matters now), and he was so happy to see my beautiful daughters and was my life fulfilling and wasn't Facebook a trip, XOXO... " I kid you not. I couldn't have made that up either. Shit. This blog post was practically writing itself! (Incidentally, he also put an apology letter on my car, oh, about ten years ago. I got it. I read it. But I never contacted him about it. So this was a little deja vu-ish.)

Well reflecting over all of this (and stewing over it a bit too, I might add), made me have an ever-so-tiny epiphany. I think I know what it all means! (You, my brilliant reader, may have known this already, but I am a bit slow, so this revelation is new to ME, anyway...) I think it means that, if I had it to do over again, I wouldn't delay my departure. Both from Spain and from that SoCal relationship. I stayed in Madrid too long. I made a HUGE mistake at the end, and if I had left earlier, or not made so many damn side trips on the way to the airport, I would have made a cleaner break from Spain and the whole experience. Same with SoCal. I was in and out of that relationship so many times it would have made your head spin. Because I was determined to make something out of nothing. And in both scenarios, I had little self-confidence. I wasn't as sure of myself as I am now. I let a lot of people get the better of me. But worst of all, I didn't give myself any credit. I was never the prize. Or so I let myself believe.

But there's one more revelation that came out of all that. As I contemplated what to say back (if anything, as of this moment I have stayed silent), I realized something pretty valuable. One of my friends recently asked me, upon my relaying the "ex-boyfriend is messaging me on Facebook" part of the story (the friending hadn't happened yet), if he was "the one who got away". To which, of course, I replied "no!" I've always felt like my husband, Drew, was the one I was meant to be with (in Jewish, we say "Beshert") and I look back on the ex-boyfriend with more bitterness. Maybe because I let him be an asshole to me for so much longer than I should have. But he was definitely NOT "the one who got away."

But it occurred to me. There's a damn good possibility that I'm his "one who got away"... And that? Is an ending I can live with.

Monday, March 16, 2009

Irony is a Whore

I finally have a really decent idea for a post, I mean, ideas are FLYING around in my head. Stuff has happened and I need to share. It involves a recurring dream, an ex-boyfriend, and the realization that I know what it all means.

But, noooooo.... I can't write it because I can barely see due to excruciatingly dry eyes. I can't explain it. Something is amiss with my eyes though, and all I've been told to do is administer drops (five or six times a day). It doesn't help. What? Did I turn 40 and my eyes decided to say, "Fuck you! You're old now!"

Anyway, gotta go apply a warm compress (or a hot poker...); be back soon.

Monday, March 9, 2009

Fear, Modesty and the Vajayjay

The other day we took the kids sledding. Well, Drew took the Diva sledding with some friends and their boys, and I came later to take pictures and keep the Li'l Rascal happy (tough job some days). Anyway, when Rascal and I got there, we joined in the fun, I videotaped Drew going down QUITE a big hill with my fearless Diva daughter, and they even convinced ME to take a turn down the hill. Again. Let me reiterate. BIG HILL. I haven't been sledding in... hmmm. That got me thinking of my own childhood. The only time I ever went sledding? We lived in Atlanta, and my brother and I took a cardboard box down the (very steep) driveway. But by that time, I was old enough for the fear to have set in. The fear I speak of is the fear that was drilled into my brain my whole life. My mother will say it was all my father, but she must have had a modicum of control over our upbringing, so I blame her just as much. Here is the short list of the things I was programmed to be afraid of:
roller coasters
moving fast doing anything (skiing- NEVER, sledding- only as previously described, skateboarding- we got them, and then my dad sold them out from under us)
raw fish
smoked fish
not wearing your seat belt (this one I'm ok with)
water sports
riding a bicycle in the street
I could go on. But do I really need to? You get the idea. So thinking of this paranoid upbringing, I know I'm doing way better by my kids. After all, I let the Diva go sledding with Drew, didn't ask questions or show any freakish concern when visiting the sledding hill. I just cheered her on and took a turn myself. I did SCREAM LIKE A BABY the whole way down the hill, but I WAS going pretty fast...

Anyway, thinking about my "fear factor" upbringing led me to thinking about another aspect of my upbringing. Prudishness. Is that even a word? My parents kissed in front of us. A lot. And believe you me, I didn't want to see any more than that, but I was raised by two pretty prudish people. And it probably turned me into at least a self-conscious person, if nothing else. Put it this way (and I hope this is not TMI), I never saw my parents unclothed. I don't know if I ever even saw my mom in her bra until I was much older (like out of college), and we were in a situation where we had to change in front of each other. With my own children, however, this is not the case. I mean, they follow us into the bathroom. (What did my parents do? They must have stuck me in a playpen!) I'm not going to live my life hiding myself. The human body is natural, and I think my daughters will benefit from my husband and I not shying away from the inevitable. They will see us nekked. And it's no big deal. There's no shame in that.

Which brings me to... tonight's conversation with the Diva as I'm putting her to bed. So, I tuck her in, and she looks up at me and smiles.
"Guess where my hand is?!"
She pulls down the covers and shows me. Hand in underpants. Yikes! What do I do or say now that won't traumatize her?!
"Oh, ok, Div, take your hand out of there?..."
She giggles, holds her hand up to my face. Says something about how she had her finger in her vagina.
"Um, do you want to wash your hand before bed? I know that might feel good, but since you peepee out of your vagina, you might want to wash your hands. (WTF?!!! I have NO IDEA what to say here.)
So we go to the bathroom, because she DOES want to wash her hands (after sniffing it a few times) and she looks at herself in the mirror and says (I shit you not), "Finger in the vagina. It feels GOOOOOOD!"
I had to smile and laugh with her, because what else could I say?!
Then, on the way back to bed, she has me smell her hand, which now smelled like soap. And I gave my THREE YEAR OLD night-nights and prayed she would sleep well.
Of course I waited too long to get the full story down verbatim, but you get the gist.
Boy, my parents would have had a heart attack. Or something. Still, how to handle these situations? No matter what kind of parent you are, there are clearly no clear answers. Or are there?

Thursday, March 5, 2009


I can breathe now. Two mammograms and an ultrasound later. It's just a cyst. I feel like I dodged a bullet. Now I need to get off my ass and start helping those I know who weren't as lucky.

Wednesday, March 4, 2009


Apparently I have flagged my own blog as having objectionable content. And I don't know how to unflag it. So I have to ask my reader(s), are you seeing some f**d up garbelty-gook at the top of the page too?

I am adding a new blog to the blogroll. I follow her on Twitter, but now I read her blog too. Barefoot Foodie... she is too funny! And expecting a baby girl next month (which she will be posting the birth on YouTube). Despite my new found love for Facebook, I am getting back into Twitter too, because there is some funny shit out there, and I have OH SO MUCH TIME on my hands...

Monday, March 2, 2009

Holding My Breath

Just until tomorrow. When I will find out everything will be alright. Until then, I'm just going through the motions:
Laundry, dishes, playing with the girls, cooking, Reality TV, Facebook, starting (to read) a book bigger than my head, chatting with girlfriends, cleaning the house, avoiding work, taking long baths, etc., etc.

We have been back from Cali for a week, and the trip was WAY better than I expected. When visiting in-laws, I do tend to expect the worst. But because we stayed with MY FRIEND, it was so relaxing and fun in the evenings. All red wine and kicking back... that's the way to travel. The girls were great. Besides their first McDonald's, there was another first... The Little Rascal decided she wanted to sleep with The Diva. And it was great. BIG LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL! We can now travel without worrying about cribs!

And we're back home, and all is well (or it will be, after tomorrow), and The Rascal is back in her crib, where she belongs. And it's snowing (again). And I'm trying to relax... and breathe.

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

California Dreamin'

Well, the family and I are here in sunny Southern California for our February "vacation". It is a vacation, in that we are getting out of the cold, and into some nice ass weather. Taking a vacation from health (the girls had their first mcnuggets, first McDonald's ever, and snacks and lollipops all day yesterday on the excruciatingly long flight(s)), and from life in general. It is a "vacation" in that we are seeing family, family and more family, and there's no time to just relax. Oh, the Lil' Rascal is not napping well, up and down every 15 minutes. Damn! And my fish tacos are on the way (BIL dropping them off while Drew keeps the ILs at bay...) I feel for my girls. Jet Lag is a bitch. I almost bit someone's head off yesterday after we arrived. And the Diva is NOT herself. Thankfully, she is napping peacefully, despite the other one's continual wake-ups. (We are all sleeping in the same room, at my best friend's house, thank god, and not with relatives.) Well, got to go before the BIL gets here, so stay warm! And I'll be back soon...

Monday, February 9, 2009

40 Random Things at 40

This is not the 25 Things from Facebook, but I did this for my fortieth birthday...

1. I once had a Raggedy Ann doll which I named "Mother".

2. When I was potty training (at age 2), I told my grandmother, "Nana, this is MY life!"

3. Every time I hear the theme song from "The Jeffersons", I bust a move and sing along.

4. I started out as an advertising major in college.

5. I'm not a competitive person, so I switched to Spanish major.

6. One of my Spanish professors accused me of cheating when I did not. We were allowed to study together and make notes. I contributed as much (or more) as the others.

7. The one time I actually DID cheat in college I did not get caught, but was sick with worry for weeks, because I thought I got turned in (it wasn't a Spanish class, but I don't remember which class now).

8. I don't like ice-cream with cake.

9. I don't like cheesecake, tiramisu or pie.

10. I once went parasailing in Mexico when I was 15.

11. I am scared of heights.

12. I went to the top of the World Trade Center the year it opened. I still have the pennant my aunt and uncle bought me from there (still has it's original tags, it's in a frame now).

13. Two days after we moved to Atlanta (when I was eight), I said the word "count" as a two syllable word. "Cay-ount"

14. My southern accent was lost in college.

15. Sometimes it comes back when I've had too much to drink.

16. Although I'm jewish, I don't have many jewish friends and can't relate to jewish women in particular.

17. I was in a jewish sorority in college.

18. I used to smoke cigarettes.

19. I started inhaling when I was 21. Then I got hooked. (Before that I only "dabbled" in it.)

20. Most of my close friends are ex-smokers. I am drawn to them.

21. When I was in elementary school, I got a scholarship to go to Saturday art school at the Atlanta College of Art. (or Columbus, I can't remember where we were living, but I DID go to both of those art schools, one of them on a scholarship...)

22. One day at Saturday art school I discovered I wore two different shoes upon arrival.

23. That day the art teacher asked us to remove one of our shoes and put it in the middle of the room. The task was to draw a shoe from the pile and then find the match.

24. When I had my first (and last) tap recital at around this same age, my shoe flew off my foot and beaned some guy in the head at the end of my performance.

25. It seems a lot of my embarrassing moments involves shoes, or the lack thereof.

26. I once jumped off the balcony of a hotel room so I wouldn't be caught by a sorority sister (it was her boyfriend's room... oops!). It was only one story off the ground, and I jumped in a driving rainstorm.

27. I am not a strong swimmer.

28. I swam for exercise when I lived in Spain and New York, but then my ears started bothering me.

29. There are some words that I know in Spanish that I still don't know how to say in English.

30. My first language is English.

31. I was a cheerleader in high school.

32. For the longest time, my favorite t.v. show was M*A*S*H.

33. Now I like E.R. and Gray's Anatomy.

34. In my real life, I am extremely squeamish about even a drop of blood or anything medical.

35. At an English academy/sports camp in Spain one summer, I was promoted to Assistant Program Director (from lowly counselor) to replace a woman who went haywire in front of our eyes because she went off her lithium.

36. During her "haywire", she locked me in a room (with her in it... nothing happened, except I was a little freaked out.)

37. I had Michael Jackson posters on the walls of my bedroom as a teen.

38. I can't always tell if people are black or white. This has happened to me at least four times. I think it's a sign that I am "color-blind", but in a good way!

39. Things I have stolen include (but are not limited to): pink flamingos, a scarecrow, a number three from a car dealership (mechanic?), sake cups and a pack of diapers (that was unintentional, of course).

40. I am usually annoyed when others are not following the rules.

Sunday, February 8, 2009

Two, One, ...

Yesterday was filled with many surprises, most of them birthday related, and most of them fun! Today, I unexpectedly had guests in town, so I did not get a moment to myself to blog (or anything else for that matter...), but it worked out o.k. Suddenly I find myself in the middle of rearranging my house the night before I turn 40. Which is o.k. Change is good. And we had people here to help. And tomorrow is just going to be like any other day.

But I'll no longer be in my thirties.

Which is weird. But I can live with it. Age is just a number, and I feel truly blessed with all that has happened to me in the first forty years. It'll be interesting to see what the next forty will bring.

Friday, February 6, 2009

Three Days to Go

There was a young blogga' from Maine
Who used to live somewhere in Spain
She's off to Boston with Bonnie M.O.T
They won't be smoking POT,
But they'll probably drink some champagne.

P.S. This HAD to be short. I have to go to bed so I can function tomorrow on my "fun day out" for my birthday that Drew planned for me. I am almost 40, you know.

Thursday, February 5, 2009

Four Days To Go

I've always enjoyed
the fine art of the haiku.
Let's see what I've got.

Four days till forty.
But I still look much younger.
Genetically blessed.

Drama queen Diva
And stubborn Li'l Rascal:
You snuggle- I melt.

Oh, Drew, how you try
to pull one over on me-
But I can't be fooled!

Too tired to write
Any more of this blog post.
Must go to sleep now.

Wednesday, February 4, 2009

Five Days To Go

Shit! I forgot to do "Six Days". I was in the bath last night, after having a nice glass (or two) of wine, mentally composing my blog post. And then I got out, got distracted, turned off the computer (OF ALL THINGS!), so I never wrote it. Oh, well... See, that is just another fine example of what happens as you turn 40. Mental defectiveness sets in.

So, yesterday, before the brain freeze, I looked for, found and read an old journal of mine. You know what a journal is, don't you? It's the kind of thing one wrote before computers were "all the rage". I looked for the journal, because I couldn't remember any full names (first and last) of people I met in Madrid when I lived there. I thought it would be fun to look them up on Facebook, so I dragged out and read the journal (skimmed it, really).

Let's just say, after reading that journal, that there is A REASON WHY I HAVE FORGOTTEN ALL THOSE PEOPLE! HOW EMBARRASSING (FOR ME)! I really must burn this journal for fear that my husband or children might one day read it and find out (choose one):
a) I exhibited some slutty behaviour back then.
b) I was a wee bit desperate
c) I may have had a weight problem (over, not under)
d) I drank and smoked too too much
e) All of the above
Damn, WHO WAS I?! I was more sure of myself in High School than I was in college and the aftermath (3 years in Madrid). That?! Is some crazy shit. Really.

Well, now at 40, I can see that I still have some weaknesses, but they are not as problematic for me as my past weaknesses were.
a) If I want to be slutty, that's ok, as long as it's with Drew.
b) I am no longer desperate, but I tend to dissolve a friendship quickly, if I think there is an unequal interest in maintaining said friendship. I wish I knew the saying, "He's just not that into you." back then. I could have used it!
c) Now, I'm happy with my body, but I always want to lose a few pounds (especially after eating a lot of sweets for an extended period of time).
d) I don't smoke anything any more, and haven't in a long time. Not sure my lungs could handle it at this point anyway. I DO drink a little more than I probably should, but who doesn't?!
e) All of the above and DAMN PROUD!

Monday, February 2, 2009

Seven Days To Go

I'm losing steam... and there are still seven (six?) days to go. But that's only because it's Monday, and Mondays are my long days. Any day after The Diva wakes me up at two in the morning is a long day. If you've known me since The Diva was a wee one, you'd have no sympathy. This waking up in the night thing is VERY new for her (and us); I used to be able to count the number of times she woke up in the night on one hand. The Li'l Rascal has had more ups and downs, but our sleep STILL has not been too compromised by her either. We are/were/have been/will always be determined to have our girls be SLEEPERS, and up until two months ago (more or less), that was usually the case. Something about being three, sleeping in big girl undies, having a "big girl bed" (read: crib with the side taken off... a converted toddler bed). I remember when I was a little girl and staying with my brother and the cousins all in the same room at my grandparents' house in Michigan. I would be so wound up thinking about stuff while the other three slept peacefully. Eventually I would get out of bed and make the walk to the kitchen, or wherever, and be given some milk with a hearty dose of alcohol (brandy?) in it. (This explains a LOT!) Oh, I don't know where I was going with that. I guess that is not going to work, since the Diva sleeps from 7:30ish until waking up later in the night (and then goes right back to sleep). I need at least six (preferably seven) hours of uninterrupted sleep to function. And coffee, LOTS of coffee.

Sunday, February 1, 2009

Eight Days to Go

If you are a man, you need not read any further. Go work on a car or something. This one's for the lay-lays.

I only have one thing to say today...P.M.S. Not the normal amount of PMS, but it seems I've skipped a period (and, no, I'm not pregnant... I know for a FACT), so I've been feeling this way for a month or more. When will it end?! Can I PLEASE just get my period already?!!

It should come as no surprise to me that I'm irregular. One time, in college, I went eleven months without a period (that was a bit of a shocker... worrisome to say the least). But now that I'm older and I've had a couple of babies, you'd think I'd be all done with that. This isn't the first time this has happened since having kids either, but this time is particularly frustrating because I feel my body reacting to food (ingesting large amounts of sugar) and water (retaining some days, the opposite of retaining on others) as if I were getting my period.

Finally, my mother went through "menopause" at age 35. I put it in quotations, because since then, I've learned from my OB-GYN that she must have had what is called ovarian failure, because women don't EVER go through menopause at that age. At any rate, I was always worried that I wouldn't be able to have kids if I waited too long because of that issue, but much to Drew's dismay, we got pregnant on the first try (or earlier!), so clearly I didn't experience any failure in that department.

If I don't get my period soon, I really will bite someone's head off. Aaaargh!!!!

Saturday, January 31, 2009

Nine Days To Go

With nine days to go (more or less), I have succumbed to the ultimate peer pressure. I joined Facebook. Or Crackbook as Coalminer's Granddaughter calls it. I was really determined not to join, but I guess given the right amount of alcohol, I can be persuaded to do just about anything. So, damn if I just didn't get excited about starting the new blog and now I have something distracting me from that...

ANYHOO, I have no words of wisdom to impart today (no weird body issues either), but I would just like to say that I have some cute fuckin' kids... and it's high time I shared them with my loyal reader(s).
Yeah, they're wicked cute, funny and smart. But what else would I say, being their mother?! Seriously, although I've been a mom for three plus years now, I sometimes still look at them and am amazed that they're my daughters. Amazing...

The Diva is excited about my upcoming birthday, because she is pretty sure there will be cake or some other sort of treat. Lil' Rascal has no clue about these things yet, but will gladly partake in any sugary offering no matter what the occasion.

Admit it, you're smitten...

Friday, January 30, 2009

10 Days To Go

I'm counting down until I turn 40. I didn't do this for 30, or any other age, for that matter. But I thought it would be fun, and with starting the new blog and all that. I'm thinking that I should impart some wisdom (and/or general crap) that I have gathered to get me to this point in my life. Some of it will be happy, happy, joy, joy, but some of it will be WTF?!!! Today (big shocker), I'm feeling that I should start off with a little WTF. (It would be helpful to note here, that I have just been on a Mom's night out with some of my friends and I am misspelling every other word and having to go back and fix it... I may get lazy and start sounding drunkish.)

My first order of business in the countdown is to say WTF to loose skin. Oh, you may not want to read any further if you are young and spry, but, yes, as one gets older, it APPEARS that one's skin LOSES ELASTICITY!!! I thought that shit only happened to old people. Not people like me, a mom of a three year old and a one and a half year old. But here's how I found out. The other day, the Lil' Rascal (the younger of the two) was trying to climb up on the chair/couch/whatever to read a book with The Diva and me (The Diva being my oldest). Well, she was having some trouble, as climbing is still fairly new to her, so she grabbed a handful of my sleeve. Well underneath the sleeve was my ARM, and the bitch grabbed some of my skin! Considering I work out on a fairly regular basis, who knew that this was even possible?!! Well, it was, and now I have a little black and blue mark where she pinched me. It really isn't a big deal. I know this. But upon looking at the "owie", I did notice that my skin seems to be lacking in the elasticity of my youth. Is it the weather? (Butt cold) Is it lack of moisturizer? Is it (gasp) my age?!!

Oh, elasticity, what has become of thee? Why hath thou forsaken me?!

P.S. I'm really bad at the whole counting down thing. So I maybe should have written this post earlier?! Later?! Not sure, we'll see if I turn 40 on my actual birthday. Should be interesting!