for the love of...

TUESDAY.

Yep, that's right, people.  It is Tuesday. 

Usually, my weekends begin on Mondays at 8:30am.  It is the day that I am on my own for about 5 hours.  5 glorious hours.

My wish is that today is boring.  No excitement.  Because yesterday continued to worsen.  If that is even possible?

At 4pm, I was given an information sheet to complete so that I could drive on an upcoming field trip.  That fieldtrip being today. 

So I am filling out the form.  Blah. Blah. Blah.
Name/Address.   CHECK.
Auto Insurance.   CHECK.
Driver's License.  CHECK.

Oh, shit.  It's expired.  EXPIRED.  How did that happen?  I did not receive my friendly little reminder in the mail to inform me of my license expiring on my last birthday.  Where's my friendly reminder???  What?  There's no flippin' reminder in Texas?  You are just supposed to remember that in six years your license is going to expire?  I cannot even remember next week, let alone six years!!!

Well, in Michigan, where I come from... we received reminders.  {PS:  TXDOT and my husband pointed out that who cares what they used to do in Michigan.  Perhaps, Michigan has changed their little friendly reminder procedure!  Well, they didn't have to be rude about it -- I was just letting them know that I didn't receive my reminder.} 

The Department of Transportation office was closed.  Of course.  But some random mom that I started to dish my 'woe is me' story to suggested I try the transportation website. 

Saved by the internet. 

In Texas, you can renew online.  Even if it is expired. 

After my seventh "In Michigan..." speech, my husband politely interrupted:

"I don't care about what Michigan did, because you clearly cannot follow directions anyway.  With or without a reminder.  As I recall, before you even got your Texas license -- you had an expired Michigan license BY NINE YEARS.  They had put you in the "DECEASED FILE".  And your plates were expired BY TEN YEARS.  Please, just try to remember when your new license expires."

8 months of no shopping update

One month I consider my lack of spending to be great.  In my own opinion.  The opinion that really matters.
The next month, maybe not so great.  Still in my own opinion.  I can be honest and subjective.  Or is it objective.  Well, whatever...

Actually, at this time, I am a bit irritated with the credit card company.  They have taken a liking to sending our bill, so that the bill actually arrives on a SATURDAY!   EVERY MONTH.  How is that possible with the erratic postal system?  Perhaps, Saturday Delivery will soon be just a memory.  Has that 'bill' passed yet??

Thank you, Bank A and your damn credit card.  You ruin ONE out of FOUR weekends EVERY month.  Weekends, as we all know, are precious commodities.  And ONE of them is a total and complete BUST.

So, I have taken to retrieving the mail.  And, subsequently yet sheepishly, hiding the mail.  Or forgetting about the mail.  Or, is it considered temporarily misplacing the mail?  Well, regardless to what happens to the mail on that particular Saturday -- it doesn't reappear until Tuesday. 

Why not on Monday?  Mondays suck anyway, why make it worse?  By Tuesdays, we are so preoccupied with the week's activities that the bill is overshadowed by the busy-ness of our life.  Thank God for Tuesdays. 

I think I will call the credit card company AGAIN... and beg them to close the statement on a different day.  Or pick a different mailing date.  Twelve "terrible, horrible, no good, very bad" weekends per year ... that's only 40 available for FUN!!  And I desperately NEED all 52 weekends.

two weeks; more or less

My estimated due date is fast approaching.
And I am not ready. 
Let me announce this with greater clarity:  I am NOT ready. 

Although the alternative is NOT great -- keeping baby #3 inside until I am DEFINITELY ready ... because she would come out like some smelly, hormonal, hairy teenager at the age of 14.  And then, I may get stretch marks.  Plus, that's like fourteen more summers in Texas!

So I ask, what fun would that be? 

Therefore, I must suck it up and get ready. 

As of my last appointment, I am beginning to dilate. 

And that is ONLY because the doctor probably initiated that when he reached up to "feel" the baby's head.  shit.  that hurt.  Why didn't the doctor just break my "water" and get this baby moving on its way out?  Because ONE is never really ready to go through the rigors of labor and delivery, right?  So just have a baby when you are NOT ready.  It is much easier than waiting around for the due date. 

Baby #1 --  my husband was in Los Angeles.  Yes, that's right.  California.  With a two hour time difference.  A 4+ hour flight to DFW.  And I am sure he drank beer (or something a bit stronger) the entire flight.  It isn't confirmed.  But I have my hunches. 

Baby #2 -- after settling me into my room, my husband went home to pick up a few things (like beer, wine and champagne), check on the existing children and grandparents, do some house stuff, clean the pool, fiddle in the garage... meanwhile, baby #2 decided to go from 2 cm to 10 cm in 45 minutes.  And, too bad for me -- my cell phone was dead and I was too sick to think about calling him anyway. 

Baby #3 -- yet to come.
Although, husband did leave me a note yesterday morning before he left for work (an extra hour early):

Dear Easy-Going, Loving Wife:
I have three business trips back-to-back this month.  When do you think this baby is arriving?  Is it possible for you to hold her in until one of the Saturdays?  I really should be in on these negotiation/training trips.  Just let me know your thoughts!

Anybody want to come sit with me in room 201?  I will provide food and beverages.  Gratis. 

21 days

60 days of summer vacation have already vanished.  Just like that, they are gone. 

OCD.

I have this eccentric habit of counting... as I may have mentioned before, seven times.  Ceiling tiles in a waiting room.  Floor tiles in an examination room.  Stairs.  Who needs a pedometer?  Days.  Hours.  Countdowns.  Trees.  Flowers.  Stepping Stones. 

We have had fun days.  We have had lazy days.  Family days.  Zoo days.  Aquarium days.  Museum days.  Lunch days.  Picnic days.  Swimming days.  Playdate days.  Birthday party days.  Drive-in nights. 

We have NOT had a "real" vacation ... by "real" I mean like leave the city, metroplex, state, region, country kind of vacation. 

My children are beginning to panic awaiting the first day of school in which they are required to write about their summer vacation using adjectives and other colorful descriptions.  They are aware of the stiff vacation competition.  The show-offs.  The bullies.  The wannabe's.  The imposters.  The pretenders.  The Vlasic Pickle children. 

I feel for them.

"My Summer Recap as told by V"

"Being pregnant and adding a baby to the house does not make for a fun summer vacation.  Vomiting, bed rest, bodily changes that nobody discusses, baby crying, smelly diapers, no sleep, foggy brains, forgetful moments, grumpy people, and other things that I cannot talk about in public. 

But my family is planning on a trip to Ravenna, Italy in May, so I will be absent.  And I don't really care about the attendance.  Besides, maybe we'll travel south to Rome and I'll be excused, pardoned, and forgiven by the Pope."

PS  I hope the principal doesn't call me on this "yarn". 
PPS  Perhaps V's Summer Vacation will be used in a Birth Control Pamphlet.
PPPS  Planned Parenthood is on the phone now... gotta go!

concepts of life

Recently, I have been completely and totally off-schedule.  That is, IF I actually HAD a schedule.  I would have been completely OFF. 

My husband has been home on vacation.  And since I currently cannot travel outside of a twenty mile radius, we had a staycation at home.  Inside our home.  Not downtown at a bed and breakfast.  Not in the country.  I think I will travel to the Maldives when my ten months/280 days are up.  ALONE. 

I am on the verge of NESTING.  But I cannot seem to find the time to NEST.  Because I am too busy cleaning up after several people.  Because I am preoccupied with cooking three meals a day AND for some reason, cereal and chicken nuggets are not a part of this world.  Because I am on bedrest AND I am so NOT complaining. 

So, hubby is NESTING for me with projects that have been written in ink (or blood) on his "Honey-Do" list for two years and two months (NOT that I am actually counting!).  

He is returning to work after a long stay-cay.  And on Sunday -- the eve of his return to working and cubicles and offices and computers and meetings and some other technical analytical words in his world -- he announces, "This will be a sad day when it ends".

I was thinking aloud AGAIN and I accidentally responded, "NOT for some of us". 

OOPS.

I am really looking forward to my inpatient hospital stay.  Maybe I can stay longer?!

OOPS, again.

...one of those weeks...

I found a pill.

A self-medicating pill.

Brilliant!

How many can I take in a day?

Child A still on crutches

Child B still sporting dry ringy patches that will stick around for 30 days

Child C still blotchy, yet no longer contagious

Dog A still making messes

Dog B joining in

Cat A moved onto mice (thank you neighbors)

Cat B has tapeworms

Mommy A has restless leg syndrome

insomnia

extreme heartburn (will baby have hair or no hair?)

anxiety

gestational diabetes

placenta previa

and, oh yeah, a very long "to-do" list

Daddy A is MIA (lucky man!)

Nanny still on vacation (hopefully, not permanently!)

Maid still inconsistent this week... what day are you coming??

Contractor still cannot remember who we are

Lawn guy still late (the rain... he's forgiven)

Dishwasher has same vile smell as washing machine (coincidence?)

Compost pile still wilting and maggoting

So far, I have taken 3 tablets to start the day!

Looking for more Black Fridays

Actually, looking for Black Sundays.  Or, in my world, PINK SUNDAYS! 

I am wondering if there are any sales in Moscow?!  Any one-offs?  Any discounts?  Any bartering to be done? 

Currently, I have a carrier bag full of "Matrushka Dolls"... every little girl is getting one for Christmas. 

Moscow is quite expensive.  About 20% higher in prices than Europe.  But really that is quite acceptable.  Because I do not want to buy European goods in Russia.  I would prefer to buy Russian goods in Russia. 

29 Rubles = 1 USD

Perhaps a couple more "Matrushka Dolls" ...

OR

How much Vodka can be carried back to the good ole USA?  If we would quit drinking the souvenirs, we might be able to gift Vodka.   Because who doesn't want Vodka from the original Vodka Heaven??!!

Is Age Really Just a Number?

Recently I attended a "Bow Soiree".   A Bow Party.  Hairbows.  Ribbons.  Grosgrain.  Cute.  Preppy.  A lot of PINK.  A lot of cuteness!  Kind of like a cropping party for scrapbookers.  But this one was for hairbow making.  Sharing ribbon mix ideas.  Sharing stories.  All mommies.  No one knew each other prior to this Bow Meeting. 

Well, basically it was just a bunch of mommies with little girls who want to CUTIFY their darlings with the most adorable (= expensive) dresses, shoes, and matching BOWS. 

You can never have too many HAIR BOWS. 

Conversations could be heard:  "You have 105.  Well I must have 110."  "I have two girls.  One with hair.  And one without!"  "I have paid 18 dollars for my most expensive hairbow."  "Well, my most expensive was from Nordstroms and it was on-sale for 15 dollars."  "Does Neimans sell hairbows?"  "How about Boutique B... too cute!?"  And so the three hour conversation went...

Until... the wine started flowing and the conversation veered away from our cutest little girls.  The conversation took a Sharp Right and landed in the DITCH of "Let's Talk About Ourselves"!!! 

So, the Bow Soiree Coordinator happened to enjoy this DITCH of HELL ... as she began (ad nauseum).  She wanted every other woman to know that she was only 23.  Good God, I could be her Mother.  Yup! 

Then another woman spoke up and said, "Well I have you all beat.  I'm 41."   I choked.  And, I silently bowed my head and thanked God for making me look younger.

Two more late twenty-somethings spoke up and claimed their NUMBER.  Hell, they were born while I was sitting in a boring Macroeconomics class. 

A couple of early thirty-somethings proudly announced their NUMBER.  I feel like we're standing in line at the Department of Transportation where you have to have a number before you are helped.  I gulped.  I acted like I was really busy studying ribbon combinations. 

Finally, Bow Soiree Coordinator glanced over at me...  UH-OH!  I'm in denial.  How old should I be?  What number hasn't been taken?  55?  26?  73?  Believable?  Damn smile lines. 

"Hearing you all talk, I thought I was 28!  Then I realized that I am not ... had to add it up because I sure don't feel like I am really 4+!"  

SILENCE.

Shit, there go playdates.  Guess they didn't want others to think they were out with their MOM!  

Waiting for Oprah to call!

SIX MORE days till the First Day of School! SIX more days till the First Day of DETOX!

8 day countdown...

GAME: FIND THE HIDDEN PURPLE SPRINKLE!

... To the first day of school. Our summer is almost officially over. Finished. Ceased. Ended. Never mind that the thermometer still registers over 100 degrees F. And the students will be covered in a slick film of sweat by the time they walk 50 yards to the front school door. Summer 2009 is complete.

Luckily, my children are just beginning to feel the word "boredom". We are creating new games and activities. Hopefully, these creative strategies will occupy most of their afternoon. Or at least 10 minutes of it. Long enough for me to go stand in my closet and guzzle a silver bullet. AND For all you mommies; this one lasted long enough for me to drink 3/4 bottle of red wine!

A Skewed Survey

I recently took a survey regarding shopping. I honestly answered the questions and I was feeling very proud of myself. Until... husband walked in and peered at my answers and results.

Husband states, "YOU do NOT shop LESS than other people! You 'POSSIBLY' shop less than a personal shopper! You spend as much as a professional shopper! ARGGHHHH"

I could discover a way to get paid to shop!?

I thoughtfully consider his rage, "Is it the bazillion dollar playroom? Is it the $72 T-shirt? Is it the $851 receipt from Gymboree (I bought the entire new collection and received 17 Gymbucks)? Is it the $590 receipt from Justice (I did receive 11 Justice Bucks Cards)? Is it the $334 receipt from the Uniform Store (the kids MUST wear uniforms to school)? Is it the $442 receipt from Boutique A (the one with the most 'adorable = expensive' smocked dresses)?"

I should have passed on the $72 T-shirt (right). I guess that was a difficult purchase to justify. However, a much better justification than the $300+ Gorilla Tee (left)!!

La Cucaracha Hunters

We live in the south and have bugs as large as the state of Texas itself. Bugs that I have never learned to accept. Bugs that I have never grown accustomed to. Bugs that I despise. Of those bugs, La Cucaracha (the cockroach) is the worst!

We adopted two cats last year in a delusional state of being petless. Kittens are so cute and fuzzy and furry and sweet and cute (again). Then you bring them home...

Our cats love to hunt anything... geckos, ants, flies, mice, snakes, birds, squirrels and cockroaches.

We have never housed so many critters as we have in the past fourteen months. I spend every bloody morning chasing critters around the house -- trying to remove them from the indoor premises. The cats are quite humane as they ALWAYS bring the critters home ALIVE. So for three hours every morning, I fly around the house on a broom shooing birds (yes, witchlike). Sweeping snakes. Catching geckos. And running from squirrels and mice.

The cockroaches are carried in via cat mouth. Cat #1 holds the cockroach in its mouth, runs into the house, locates ME, and deposits the roach at my feet (alive, of course).

First, I wonder, why ME? Why not husband? Children? Neighbor? Why do I get the prize?

Next I think, I thought there weren't anymore cockroaches in a three block radius of our house. Didn't the cats already catch them all and bring them home?

So, this morning, I woke up to Cat #1 standing above me with a cockroach being deposited next to my head. No need for an alarm this morning. I jumped out of bed and started wailing.

"Are you going to help me out? Or should I just run the vacuum and wake up the rest of the house?" It is only 5:45 am.

And so I begin to sing, in my loud tone-deaf voice, at 5:46 am.

La cucaracha, la cucaracha,
The cockroach, the cockroach,
ya no puede caminar
can't walk anymore
porque no tiene, porque le falta
because it doesn't have, because it's lacking
las dos patitas de atrás.
its two back feet.