Month: March 2009

I feel richer already

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image I’m sorry. I really am, but I simply HAVE to comment on the “Stimulus Bonus” that we’re all supposed to be getting in the coming weeks.

A whopping $15-$20 extra in our paycheck. Holy crap! I could finish the basement, or I could buy a new truck. Oh wait…I’m confusing the money I’m getting back, with the debt that I now owe thanks to the recent government bailout ($20 in “extra” money each paycheck vs. the approx. $50,000 in new debt this plan will cost every man, woman and child in America) (http://www.nowpublic.com/tech-biz/how-stimulus-plan-will-impact-average-american)

And this is news? Seriously, I hope this country’s loyalties can’t be bought with a “bonus” that’s not even equal to the price of dinner for four at Applebees on a school night.

But the crisis is now real for me. My BIL was laid off his job yesterday–a mere two days before him and his wife were to close on a new house for their growing family. It would be real nice of the homeowners to give them back their earnest money, but I doubt that’s going to happen. So, no new job…Oh and you’re also out about five large. Sorry!

But we’ll all keep on working  and we’ll all keep on hoping that our hard work, not the bloated government machine, will pull us out of this rut.

 

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On the bright side, I don’t have any gray hair anymore…(cuz I pulled it all out!)

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boys jumping Thoughts from this weekend with my two sons:

– Any softening I have had about how this third child wouldn’t be THAT much bigger a deal, was completely blown out of the water after this weekend. There will be no–let me repeat, absolutely zero–“girls weekends away” when we have three kids. And CareerMom’s traveling schedule is going to seriously have to be re-evaluated, or else the in-laws are going to need to be proactively involved!

– Give a kid a toy, and he’ll play for five minutes. Ignore a kid for five minutes and everything’s a toy.

– Boxes of tissues hold infinite amounts of interest for toddlers.

– Boys only learn by one method, the rod (aka: the switch). Asking nicely doesn’t work. Asking forcefully doesn’t work. Even yelling goes in one ear and out the other and only makes you–the parent–feel like a complete a-hole. Nope, spank ’em and move on.

– When they wanna be sweet, they can melt your heart. The other 98% of the time, you just want to smash a pile of bricks with your forehead.

– For anyone out there who may be saying to themselves, “Uh huh, it’s not so easy is it. Now you know what CareerMom had to go through two weeks ago” I submit the following facts:

  • Fact 1: She only had them one full day. The other days were “take ’em to daycare” days.
  • Fact 2: She had nice weather and could take them outside. I had severe thunderstorms and bitter cold.
  • Fact 3: When the going gets tough, the tough take them over to their mom’s house where there is a sister with a daughter to play with

– I’ve completely run out of junk food-groups to feed them. I’ve done pizza, spaghetti, corn dogs (actually, I grabbed the “sausage dogs” by accident“), what is left?

– Going and getting a band-aid every 30 minutes is driving me friggin’ nutz. And I’m not even the one getting them!

– Honestly, I can’t keep up with the messes. Oh, and while vacuuming today, the vacuum belt broke.

– After soooo looking forward to CareerMom’s returning at 6 p.m. and giving me a break, I checked online and discovered her flight is 1.5 hours late. Guess I get to put them to bed again.

– CareerMom had better not come home horny! I’m in a “don’t touch me” mood!

– I am not handling this well.

Weekend! When the workin’ days are through…

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I need your help! Here’s the scenario:
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OK, CareerMom is gone till Sunday afternoon.

It’s gonna rain most of the weekend

Which means all my “outdoor exercise” activities are shot.

I’m gonna need to bleed off some energy from both the boys and myself.

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Suggestions?

Cosmic Justice?

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Wow! Posting my Swan Song garnered as many comments as any post about deviant sex ever could have!!

But, you’re right. I can’t stop. And taking the pressure off of “needing” to post everyday, makes it easier. I need to just embrace the fact that not even Jim Butcher can write a super-novel every day, and then just move on with life.

Here goes…(and I take no responsibility for the quality of said content):

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image Harken back to this time about two weeks ago.

I woke up on Wednesday morning with a scratchy throat. Being a victim of “chronic sinusitis,” I knew that this could mean only one thing. And when coupled with the acne that had popped up like some greasy teenager with raging hormones, I immediately started doing the sinus flush in hopes of preventing any further infection.

Didn’t work.

I flew up to TrishaTruly’s place where I languished in lethargic agony for nigh on three days.

On Friday, CareerMom is flying to Charleston for the weekend to meet up (hook up with? NAH!) an old high school friend of hers. Both ladies have children of their own and they haven’t seen each other since our wedding almost ten years ago. When this begin percolating in their heads, CareerMom wasn’t aware that she was pregnant and I’m sure the last thing she wanted, was to appear 5 months pregnant in her elasti-pants in front of a girl whom she shared a college dorm room with and with whom she fought against for the affections of young college studs out at Texas back in the 90s.

C’est la vie!

Yeah, I’m a wee bit jealous. My trip was up to the freezing tundra (aka: Scranton, PA) while hers is out to the relatively warm spring climate of Charleston where there is sure to be fine dining and pedicures.

HOWEVER…

This morning, the alarm went off at 5:30 a.m. I flipped over and slapped the “snooze” button so as not to have to listen to Steve and Vickie any longer than necessary, and CareerMom mumbles, “I have a sore throat.”

GWAH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!

I came, I saw, I blogged

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After much debate (internally), I’ve come to the conclusion that my blogging days are over. I just don’t have enough time, or good material, to make it work anymore. And let’s be honest, it was just barely working anyway.

I’ve made some really great friends here, and I’ve met some people who don’t realize how good they are at this. Honestly, it’s humbling (and only mildly annoying at how easy they make it seem). But, if I try and keep doing everything I’m doing, something will eventually suffer and I’d rather it be something I enjoy rather than something that’s a real responsibility. Instead of just letting my posts dribble off and leaving people to wonder, I’m just officially ending it.

Really, it wasn’t you; it’s me. 🙂

I’m sure I’ll still be stopping by your blogs from time to time though, so keep an eye out for my tell-tale coffee cup icon.

So long and God Bless!

I’d rather cut my own finger off…

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image When I was about 9, I was running through the hall in our house in Mobile, and I stepped on a toothpick that lay hidden in the carpet. I remember feeling/hearing the “pop!” sound it made as it punctured the soft archy part of my foot and I remember the pain I felt as I hit the floor screaming. My brother, in one of only 2.5 random acts of kindness he ever made towards me–God Bless Him–tried to pull the toothpick out of my foot. Which would have worked had the thing not bent upon entry, resulting in him only breaking off the toothpick and leaving about a 1/2 an inch of it in my foot.

My screaming brought my parents running and for the next eternity (or maybe it was 15 minutes), I lay face down on the kitchen table with the lights on bright, while my mom applied Orajel to my foot in an attempt at numbing it while my dad tried to dig out the toothpick.

Freeform memories from that night:

bright, bright lights

– the pattern on the kitchen floor

– pain, so much pain

– screaming

– trying to kick and buck, but being held down quite firmly

– thinking, “Why the hell am I NOT at the friggin’ hospital?”

Finally, my dad gave up and took me to the hospital. I can only imagine that we didn’t have insurance at the time and my parents were trying to save themselves the ER fee, but good Lord, I had suffered enough. I remember my dad’s shirt being soaking wet and although I didn’t realize it at the time, but I know now that it was from both the effort of concentrating on cutting into my foot while holding me down, and from the pain that it caused him to be doing this to me.

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I know that because last night, just as CareerMom’s family came over for a nice dinner on the back porch in the cool evening air, while running across the deck, MLE shoved a splinter into his foot that was about 3/8 of an inch long. There was crying; there was screaming; there was blood. Being Sunday night, I did what I could to remove the splinter, succeeding in removing about 2/3 of it, but leaving a substantial portion waaay down in his foot where I couldn’t retrieve it without significant digging. After about five minutes of trying to remove the remaining portion, I called it quits and decided we’d take him to the doctor in the morning before it had a chance to get sore on him. In the few minutes that I spent inflicting further pain on my child, I must have sweated out a pint of fluids.  All the while, the toothpick episode from my own youth looped through my head until finally, knowing how much this would hurt MLE if I continued, I called it quits.

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When my folks finally took me to the ER, I remember the nurse sticking me with a small needle to numb my foot and while my mom talked to me at the head of the table, unbeknownst to me, the doctor cut the toothpick out. I didn’t feel a thing. Seriously, the drugs were THAT good.

I’m hoping my kids’ pediatrician is that good. Meanwhile, I have a date with a belt sander and a hammer sometime in the coming weeks. Yaaah me!

It’s too late to apologize

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OK, so in retrospect, I decided that too many people who know me professionally also read my blog and having those same people sitting around meeting rooms with me (or perhaps over the telephone cuz they recently moved away…(yes YOU!) is just a little too creepy.

So, despite all the buildup, AND despite the work that I put into the posts, I’ve decided to can the series! One day, when I rule the world, like Obama, I’ll be able to say whatever I please and excuse it with an “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it” and all will be well. Unfortunately, I’m simply not in that position yet.

Stay tuned for more incessant, bland posts about nothing in particular!