I'm OKAY

nobody panic....

Thursday, July, 10, 2008

The clouds are passing. The gardening has resumed. I am alive and well. THERE. After reading over my post yesterday, I’m surprised I DIDN’T see two burly guys arrive via ambulance at my front door around lunchtime, complete with a nice fitted jacket that ties in the back, just my size. GEEZ. Needless to say, when the storm comes, it comes with a quickness. Thankfully it passes just as rapidly. Leo and I called a family meeting last night, in the middle of the living room, to address the behavioral issues that have been wreakin’ havoc in the casa. Dora wanted to start said meeting with a word of prayer. (Holy CRAP. Thanks Pentecostal gramma.) It went exactly like this:

DORA with head bowed: God is grape. God is good. Lettuce thank him for our fool. -Freddy interrupts-DORA! That’s the blessing. You don’t say that at a family meeting-UH! You say that at the table! Do you see food? We’re on the COUCH! I interrupt FREDDY , simply because I MUST hear the end, telling him that if Dora is moved to say this particular prayer before our meeting, then we’ll let her continue. Maybe she just really liked dinner.....

Dora cont: God is grape (she always starts over when interrupted) God is good. Lettuce thank him for our fool. Bow his hands we shall be fet give us now hour yummy breakfast. The end. Amen.

Whew. When the meeting finally got under way, the spawn listened intently. They took in the new rules and regulations with the zest normally reserved for replanting (for real) dead rabbits in the back yard. When we opened for questions, Freddy just wanted to make sure he was still going to get an allowance. Dora took the opportunity to tell us that she loved the family, the couches and the dog. She also said she was thankful for her quesadilla...I knew it!

A Brief Garden Report

There was MAJOR make-up gardening underway in the den of love last night. YEE HAW. I took a shower and everything. SERIOUSLY. You KNOW it’s major if there is body washing involved. I’m thinking of draping some sort of sexy see through curtainy stuff from the ceiling. Add a few candles. Remove folded laundry from the dresser and put it IN the dresser. Take out all Barbie shoes, G.I. Joe heads, balls (hummmmm), and stuffed animals. Try to turn it into more of a .......bedroom. My wheels are turning.

The sun is rising......THANK GOD!

Raisin' Hell in Home Depot

courtesy of yours truly

I almost killed a kid in Home Depot yesterday. On purpose. There to select my wood (HA!) for the FUH-looores-UH ( I swear, you guys have the dirtiest minds.....) that we are putting in, Freddy and Dora were doing the normal kid thing that you do when you a KID in Home Depot. You know. Pretend that you live in each of the “imaginary kitchens that my kitchen will never look like because I have living, breathing, messy, dirty people in my house” displays set up for your viewing pleasure. I believe they became separated around my personal fav, the rustic Italian model. As I attempted to corral them back to Leo and myself, Freddy peeks around the corner of a stainless steel side by side fridge. It was lovely and I was just about to compliment his fabulous taste when I caught the look in his eye of a boy disturbed. Lower lip poked out, mute, eyes cast downward, he points to his crotch. It seems that my boy couldn’t make his way out of pretend kitchen land to find me, or the loo, in time. He was embarrassed and none too happy about wearing wet shorts for any period of time. I immediately kick it into “save my baby’s pride” mode, notify Leonidas that I am exiting hardwoods, and make my way to the john. Of course Dora will not allow any of this hot action to take place without her, so she comes with. As we are walking all mushed up together(because you know that people don’t see pee pee if you’re stuck to your mother) through carpets, halfway there, we are passed by two greasy faced pre-teen little shits who seem to be lost without a tube of Oxy in one hand and a video game controller supported by a bag of Doritos in the other. I hear one of the little shits say the following:

Little Shit: YO! LOOK! THAT LITTLE KID DONE PISSED ALL OVER HISSELF!! HAHAHAHAHAHAH! (The little voice reading this in your head should be really teen mean and maniacal.)

I know I could’ve kept quiet, and maybe, had he just thought it, maybe had he not said it loud enough for my little man and everyone browsing Berber to hear, I might have. But he didn’t and I have a nasty temper.

Me, Mommy the Big Ass Bitch: You should really shut your mouth or turn your volume down.

Little Shit: Who you talkin’ to, lady?

Me, MBAB: I am speaking to you. If you don’t feel the need to use manners and common sense in public, especially when you’re teasing children 5 and under, you should really make sure that their mothers are normal.

Little Shit: Yo lady. Don’t get no attitude with me. (Please note that he is saying this to his friends earlobe, not DIRECTLY to me.)

Me, MBAB: I don’t have an attitude. I am simply making sure my children know that it’s okay to not be afraid of or intimidated by little punks (I know, I know...I should’ve used a nicer word. I explained the concept of anger and losing control of one’s mouth after it was all over) like you and that sometimes they will need to help others locate their decorum. You DO understand decorum, don’t you?

Little Shit: Whatever. That is my FAVORITE non-comeback. This means that you have no idea what to say next. I have used it myself on occasion. Yesterday.

It was at this point that Freddy asked me what the kid said, probably knowing that it was about him and his pee pee pants. I told him that they were jealous that they couldn’t twirl and tap dance like Dora. Yep, I lied. I don’t feel bad about it, just in case you were wondering. I am positive that life, at some point, will inject their beautiful carefree existence with all the crap humans must deal with. By the way, Dora was THRILLED that they found her twirls to be envy-inducing.

THE GARDEN REPORT

The sexperiment continues. We were tired last night after a day spent with the in-laws. Last night WOULD have been the night, under normal conditions, when we would’ve pecked each other on the cheek, snuggled for a minute, then rolled around (NOT stuck together) until our bodies found the comfy spot on our respective sides of the bed. But it happens that I am a persistent little cuss, and forced him to participate. In the end, it was quite um....how would you say, cardio-friendly?! I’ll go with that. Cardio-friendly. Good, good times. It has been a WEEK already, as of today. Time seems to fly when you’re.....nevermind.

Rain Rain Go Away

in a minute....

There was a storm at our house last night. No, that isn’t code for family squabble or mommy erupting at spawn. There was thunder, lightning, water from clouds... the whole business. See, I like a storm, especially when I’m inside and there are no tornadoes or flying rabbit parts involved. I like night storms. I thought I always had. Until last night. I put the kiddos to bed a little later than usual, partly out of my desire to NOT unfold myself from my husbands lap, and also because they were being normal and I like them more that way. Anyway, as usual, I digress. Approximately 3 minutes after tucking said wee ones in, the house was rocked by thunder and some really cool blue lightning. The sound of sheets of rain washing the house soon followed. I turned the last of the lights off in order to enjoy the display for a moment, as I find peace in nature doing what she does so well. The rolling thunder was soon overtaken by the sounds of whimpering from the staircase. Dora was crying. Dora was afraid. I walked over to find her huddled on the stairs, blankie of life wrapped around her head. I picked her up and she twisted her arms and legs around me in a grip that would rival an anaconda’s. Asking her what was wrong (yes, I knew, but I like to allow her to communicate her feelings), she told me, with tears streaming down her face, that the thunder “scared her ears.” She doesn’t like loud noises of any kind, and I found myself wishing I had put her to bed 20 minutes earlier. But had I done that, I would’ve missed the chance to walk her over to the big bay window in the “diamond room” and dance with her to the sounds of the storm. I would’ve missed the chance to tell her the story of raindrops and what life there is in their arrival. Most importantly, I wouldn’t have been able to explain to her, that when I was a small girl afraid of storms, I would pretend to be a blue fairy with see-through wings, and that my house was a giant but delicate flower that protected me from all that raged outside.

I am happy that I remembered. It seems that all we go through in our journey to “here” is what is needed so desperately from others (sometimes family, sometimes not) in order to make this life ride a little less bumpy.

My Life (this weekend) in Pictures

I decided to haul my camerrrAH around with me just to see what I might find. This is what found me:

This is my cat....she doesn’t KNOW that she’s a cat, and I’m not tellin’ her. She assumes royal bloodline, and I roll with it. I would like to be her in my next life.

This is my cat watching Dora at the window. Dora thinks she’s rockin’ royal blood too...except....

this princess does windows.

While Freddy has the chosen the “this should’ve been trash, but us kids are gonna keep this box for dress-up and torture until you die, mama” box for a nice game of “Sniper in the Trees in Our Front Yard, Look Out Neighbors.”

Leondias gives me his super secret sign for “I love you baby you are the best damn wife in the whole world, and MOTHER?!? These kids couldn’t have a better mother. Your mom’s shoulda named you Teresa.” I then gave him my super secret sign for thank you, but you can’t see it in this picture....for those of you worried that this salute was done in front of the Fredster, his head was buried in the blanket, so BACK OFF! :)

It took Dora only 25 seconds to perfect this librarian hooker make-up job after she ganked my purse without my knowing it. That would be mascara on her forehead.

After taking a “girl’s shower” with mommy, Dora decides to coat her face with shaving cream and shave her “gear” (cute baby word for beard). I supervised. No replies necessary from anti-girlshower crazies OR pervs, as I will not so kindly tell you to mind your own business and shove it up your ass....if I’m feeling generous. Thank you.

This is me, taking a picture of them, on a merry-go-round. I don’t DO merry-go-rounds, as I would promptly yak up my Starbucks skinny vanilla latte extra hot all over my shoes. No round and round. EVAH!

This was my weekend. Please enjoy. (That’s me channelling my inner Top Chef, doncha know?)