Wednesday, October 31, 2012

Problem SOLVED.

I discovered today that I've TOTALLY been doing it all wrong.

This is another bus story.  Sorry.  But honestly, this shit just writes itself.

So we all know that my own personal bus rules include the following:

1 - do NOT look at ANYONE for ANY reason.
2 - do NOT, under any circumstances, TOUCH another person on the bus.
3 - do NOT touch the bars unless it is absolutely crucial to do so (for example, in the instance where the choice is either falling on my ass or grabbing the pole, I will grab the pole).
4 - keep a neutral, not friendly but not unfriendly, expression on my face.

And lately, like the last two weeks, I've been having this problem where people are choosing to sit with me.  In every single instance to date, there have been other available seats on the bus - in some cases, actually, MANY available seats.  But for some reason, they are gravitating to me.  C says it's because I'm pretty.  I love C.  Friends who blow sunshine up my ass are totally my favorites.

Anyway, whatever the reason, I'm kinda over it.  I don't like people sitting beside me.  If they have no choice, fine.  But there is ALWAYS another choice.

So, I tried a different approach today, and I realized something:  #4 IS ALL WRONG!!!!

Today, instead of remaining neutral, I decided to try keeping my face in a sort of angry, unfriendly scowl-y expression.  AND IT TOTALLY WORKED!!!!

The bus this morning was the fullest one I've been on yet.  And guess who had a seat to herself?!  That's right - this girl!!

I tried it again on the way home, and IT WORKED AGAIN!!!!

Let me be clear, first of all, nobody is required to stand when I am making my scowl-y mean face.  Everyone still has a seat - it's just not with me!  Also, it needs to be noted that I am not looking directly AT people with this ugly look on my face.  I just kind of plaster it on and stare out the window or straight ahead.  So I'm not actually being directly mean to anyone; I just have a look on my face that clearly says, if you sit beside me I WILL TOTALLY FREAK THE F OUT SO YOU JUST BETTER NOT!!!!

I'm so glad I discovered this.  I actually can't wait til Friday when I can try it again.

I might need Botox by the end of the school year, but really?  A small price to pay.

Saturday, October 27, 2012

Six years ago...

A post for my son on his 6th birthday (OK, the day after his 6th birthday, WHATEVER, give me a break, I had a lot going on yesterday!!)

Six years ago, you came into this world, tiny, wrinkled and screaming, with lots of dark hair and the cutest dimple ever, and with that you completed our family.

You were a sweet baby (except with your dad, you two were NOT friends for a few months), you were fat as can be and happy as can be and you had a weird shaped head because you refused tummy time for an entire year - which is likely why you never actually crawled; instead you did this super awesome bum-scootch in which you used one hand to drag yourself across the floor while sitting up.  We called it booty-scootin'.  It was hilarious and amazing how good you were at it!

You've been a kid who does things "his way" ever since, and I couldn't possibly be more proud of you.

You should be thankful you have that adorable dimple and that killer smile - that combination has saved your ass on more occasions than you know.

Your sense of humor is unmatched.  Nobody makes me laugh like you.  You get your sense of humor from your dad and it is another piece of you that does, and will continue to, save your ass on a regular basis - so don't ever lose it.

You are so bright that it blows my mind.  You were speaking easily in full sentences by 18 months, and you were reading at 4 years old.  You have an incredible, mathematical mind and I have no idea where the hell that came from, but baby, use it.

You are such a happy child, and my hope is that you are always filled with happiness.  You have a positive outlook, you love to be with your friends and family, you know how to share, you are compassionate, and you would give your friends your very last Pokemon card if you knew it would make them happy.

Sometimes, I do wonder if you were put on this earth to test my own patience - as you, right this minute, are blowing a giant hockey game horn as loudly as you possibly can; driving your sister completely up the wall; demanding I help you with your new Lego; wanting another piece of cake; dumping out the entire art drawer just so you can find that "one crayon you NEED RIGHT THIS MINUTE!!!!!"  All by 9:30 on a Saturday morning.

Six years has gone by way too fast, and it's only going to speed up from here.  I love you to the moon, buddy - you are my most favorite little guy in the whole entire world.  Happy Birthday, dude.

Oh, and once again, before I finish, I'm just going to need you to promise that you'll always love your mommy more than you love your wife!!

Wednesday, October 24, 2012

Oh, *^&@#!!

So, there's something you may or may not have noticed about me:

I swear like a trucker.

It's not pleasant, I know this.  It's not ladylike to swear (HA HA HA, I'm sorry, just typing that made me laugh out loud, it's not ladylike to do a lot of the shit I do and I can honestly say that I've never once in my life had the thought, "gee, I shouldn't do that, it's not ladylike.")  And you should know that I actually am very restrained on this blog.  VERY.  My out-loud voice is way dirtier than my mom-blog voice.

They say that people who use curse words often are either too dumb or too lazy to think of other, more appropriate words.

Well, THEY can shove it up their asses.

I am plenty smart enough (unless we're talking about penguins), and I am definitely not lazy.  I just happen to sometimes (um, often) use language that perhaps is not what some people would deem appropriate.

I try to know my audience:  I don't swear in front of my parents, I don't swear at school, I don't swear when I'm around people I've just met...

Oh wait, never mind.  I do.  Sorry.  I actually do all of those things.  Just go ahead and scratch all that.

Anyway, the truth is, my potty mouth is NOT my fault.  My dad is a media dude.  He's been in the radio industry for EVER, and everyone in the biz knows that media folk know of words and phrases that you can't even imagine stringing together.  Mix that with the fact that my parents had me when they were pretty young, none of their friends or siblings had any children yet, and suffice it to say, I've been exposed to some extremely colorful language from a very early age.  Legend has it, when I was around 2 years old, my aunt was pushing me around in a shopping cart at a grocery store.  Imagine me, cute as can be, all big fat cheeks and innocent brown eyes, busting out a charming rendition - LOUDLY - of David Allen Coe's Rodeo Song.  Oh, you're not familiar with that one?  Well, let me give you a few of my personal favorite lines:

"Well, it's 40 below and I don't give a f***, got a heater in my truck and I'm off to the rodeo..."
"...piss me f***ing jerk..."
"...come on you f***ing dummy, get your step right..."
" comes Johnny with his pecker in his hand, he's a one-ball man and he's off to the rodeo..."

Yes.  Those sure are the real words.  And I sure did know 'em all.  And my poor aunt failed to shut me up, and instead had to resort to loudly proclaiming to anyone within earshot, "SHE'S NOT MINE!!  THIS IS NOT MY KID!!"

So, yes.  I have a long, shameful past with my language.

AJ's been known to bust out, "wow, mom, it's frickin' cold outside!"  At three years old, he thought 'frickincold' was one word.

Mackenzie has gotten in shit (trouble!  I mean, trouble!) twice so far this week for saying the word shit.  She doesn't yell and scream it, or say it for shock value; she says it quietly to herself when she's on the computer and makes a mistake with her Mathletics program, or when she mis-files a Pokemon card, or when Barbie's slutty little dress keeps falling down and exposing her ridiculous boobs.  And whenever it happens, AJ has to gleefully run down to the kitchen to tell me "MOM!  MACKENZIE SAID SHIT!" just so he has the opportunity to say it too.  Then I have to remind everyone to not to say that word, that it's a grown up word and saying "shit" is just one of those things you have to wait til you're a grown-up to do, like having babies and riding motorcycles and playing poker and drinking gin and tonics.

Clearly, my language needs to clean up.  And I'm trying.  I am.  Well, I'm at least conscious of the fact that I'm doing it.  That has to count for something, right?  Maybe I should try a Swear Jar.  I remember my mom having one when my brother and I were little and she would have to put a quarter in it every time she cursed.  (Come to think of it, actually, what the hell happened to that money!?!?  MOM!??!)

Or, I could just say F*** IT.

Yeah, let's face it.  That one's most likely.

Sunday, October 14, 2012

Hard workin' mommy.


You know what's hard?

Book learnin' is hard.

I've been reading.  Oh, for the LOVE, there is SO much reading.

I've been studying.

I've been taking exams.

I've been writing.

I've been researching (which, by the way, needs to be REFERENCED in your papers.  Referencing is HARD.  I suck at that part.  Obviously this information came from somewhere, I didn't just make it up in my head.  Why can't I just say that?  "I found it in a medical journal by Dr Bob Smith." The end.)

I've been creating projects.

Not to mention the fact that I actually have to physically leave my house and go to class every day.

And I have to be honest, all of this has been a HUGE adjustment.  I am so used to having quite a bit of sitting-around-on-my-ass time.  But even though I totally don't have ANY of that anymore?  I'm kinda loving it.  (OK, not the exam part.  I hate exams.  Who invented multiple choice?!?  I'd like to find that guy and kick him in the nuts.  The fact that the correct answer is RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME, totally stresses me out.)

Normally, I would have my days to myself while my kids are at school.  In my former life, I would use this time to do very important things.  Like play Words With Friends, and catch up on TMZ, and bake cookies, and organize my underwear drawer.  And watch PVR'd episodes of Friends (I've got like 40 of them on there, I think Shawn thinks there's something wrong with me, like, hello sunshine, the 90's are LONG over, let's move on, OK??).  Oh, and my personal favorite activity: buying shit I don't need at Costco, then spending a good hour trying to think of ways to justify my purchases when Shawn asks why the hell I bought MORE freaking Christmas decorations and discounted bath towels.

Yeah.  My days at home have been numbered for awhile.

And now, here's the thing:  I am using my BRAIN!  You know, for things other than trying to keep track of who's died so far on Grey's Anatomy (seriously, McSteamy?!  Why'd they kill HIM off?  He's all kinds of hot.  I don't even want to watch the stupid show anymore now that Mark Sloan is gonzo.  Ah, Dr. Sloan.  You were so pretty.)

And when I say that school is "hard", I should really clarify that maybe "hard" is not exactly the right word.  It's just work - and a whole different kind of "work" than what I've been used to.

It's good.  It's fun.  I'm diggin' it.

But seriously, on the multiple choice.  That shit is evil.