Friday, November 30, 2012

Out of my Mind

Le week prior to le Finals.

When everyone dies in a flurry of study guides, paper cuts and tears.

Except me.

I've been screwing around on Facebook and writing blog posts (most of which I haven't posted. You are WELCOME).

Hey. Those are my two loves. Well, besides my kids, but I kinda felt like that went without saying.

Sometimes those mindless interweb moments are completely necessary. Sometimes we get up in the morning, walk the herd of neighborhood elementary girls to school, come home to find that our middle schooler has YET AGAIN missed his bus because playing fetch with the cat seemed like a better idea than brushing his teeth, so we drive him to school while lecturing the importance of punctuality.

And then we rush off to an appointment involving absolute REAMS of paperwork, swearing and math, and then we rush back home to grab books so we aren't late to class, only we forget what day it is for a sec because we've been rushing around all morning and we show up to the right class with the wrong books, and later in the day we don't have anything for the 3-hour class. So we sit there with a dumb smile on our face while our instructor narrows her eyes at us and asks why we are unprepared.

We consider informing the instructor that we should band together as redheads and take over the world, but luckily we realize that our children's constant comments about Gingers are affecting our brain, and just in time we change the previous comment to simply excuse ourselves from this day of craziness. We take a sec to play around in Photoshop until we realize how much our desire to own the program has turned into pure hatred of all things Shop and then we sneakily write death notes to Adobe on the back of one of our assignment sheets only we can't actually mail them for two reasons: 1] Because we don't even know where Adobe is located and 2] we never buy stamps because everything is done electronically. Plus we could go to jail for threatening. And also our name is on the front of that assignment sheet. I guess that's technically four.

Bliss would be coming home to three beautiful children greeting me with hugs and loving words of how much they missed me.

I said WOULD BE.

Instead I was greeted with a look of terror by one child (remind me to ask him what he was doing in order to react that way), complete silent treatment by the middle kid, and a glare from the littlest one.


At least I came home to the right house with the right kids.

Wednesday, November 28, 2012

None of this relates in even the smallest way

Peeps, I regret to inform you that the photos from Thanksgiving just aren't going to happen.

Like, ever.

For I, THE most patient person in this world, and quite possibly the entire universe, is sick of trying to get them uploaded.

Maybe by May I'll revisit this annoying issue and we can all have seconds on Turkey.

Knowing my memory, I'll forget and we'll never speak of it again.

Hey, so last week I watched the Avengers. Loved it. Gonna marry it.

Tonight I watched Captain America.

Liked it, not really gonna date it.

Tomorrow I want to watch Thor and that wolfman one and all the others.

I'm going to stop making weird relationship references to movies now.

But. Question.

How come there aren't more chick crime fighters? I'm sure there's a joke out there that one of you in particular would like to make, but seriously.

Why didn't Marvel include more ladies? I mean, there's Wonder Girl and Super Girl and maybe one other. No? Anyway. Do you think they'll remake those movies? I watched them 900 years ago when I was a kid and don't remember them. Gasp. Hold on. Those might not even be Marvel. DUDE. Why does all this boy-stuff have to be so complicated?

I could always take to Google, but seriously, you guys read my last post. I'm not even going there. Because I CAN'T.

I'm not bitter. I'm calm. This is me calm.

So really. Someone out there tell me why all the rescue heroes have to be men. Chicks are strong, too! I mean, we complain a lot and half the time we're yelling, "I'm not doing that! It'll ruin my new shoes!" Whatever. Create an indestructible boot and we'll be fine.

And while you're at it, can someone tell me who won the Powerball? I can't look that up either.

Monday, November 26, 2012

Eff it all.

Post about Thanksgiving? Sure. Include multiple photos, some of them very incriminating? LOVE TO. Exploit everyone in my family? YOU BET!

What are we waiting for, you ask?

Gee. I don't know. Perhaps we are waiting for my brand new computer to stop shutting down randomly and freezing. You know: The type of crap everyone else deals with when they drop a few hundred bucks on a piece of junk and expect it to work more than 16 days (actually, I can't even remember when I bought it, but it was THIS MONTH. That I am sure of.)

Seriously? I mean REALLY.

Maybe I'm PMSing, but I kind of want to get in my car, NOT wear a seat belt as I drive recklessly through the rain-drenched streets, screech into the parking lot of the store and stomp through to the electronic's department (can I borrow someone's big man boots for effect?) and then wait impatiently while someone gets the effing sales guy who sold me that thing so I can punch his lights out.

For real.

I do no have anger problems.

I have satisfaction issues.

And a little bit of Redhead Attitude.

Which usually makes things worse.

Except when we're talking about revenge.

Only, I can't really type about it because then it could technically be considered premeditated.

It's not like I'm going to kill him.

That's ridiculous.

Nope. I'm going to tie him to a chair, a REALLY UNCOMFORTABLE CHAIR, and force him to use that crappy laptop he sold me. Only I'm going to give him a list of 3 websites that must be viewed within the hour (good luck getting them to load!) and then I will require him to write a one page review of those sites using Microsoft Word (yeah, the same program that keeps shutting down without warning) and then print his review (using the same printer the laptop refuses to recognize). Then, he can run a virus scan using the program I just bought that WON'T INSTALL.

I'm having a bad day.

Sunday, November 18, 2012

Revenge. Serve it however.


If today were a scene from a horror film, I would have won an Oscar.

Rawr and I were leaving Chuck E. Cheese (DUDE what a madhouse!) tonight after my niece's birthday party. Rawr was piling her kids into her car, while myself and my three kiddos were a fair amount behind her, still walking along the sidewalk.

And suddenly, I had an idea. Payback. Because I'm a b*tch.

Once, a long time ago, Rawr sneaked into my house, walked around the corner and scared the crap out of me. So I hit her.

It's my first reaction. I also don't like being tickled, as you may recall. I have inappropriate reactions to unexpected touching. Consider yourself warned.

And ever since, revenge has been simmering in the back of my mind.

I handed my keys to my 11, told the girls to pile in, and walked to the passenger side of Rawr's car. Her husband was getting into the driver's seat and totally saw me. And remained silent. A good man.

I stood there, hands at my sides, chin pointed down, and waited.

While Rawr was looking over her other shoulder and speaking to her kids. So I raised my hands, pressed my face into the glass, and waited.

While Rawr turned to her left and spoke to her husband.


So I moved my head around a bit, re-positioned my hands just an inch away from the glass and hovered until Rawr's husband finally took pity on me, pointing to the window where I stood.

Juuuuuust as Rawr turned her head, right before eye contact, I sprang at the window and slapped it with my hands, yelling, "RAAHH!" at the top of my lungs.

I saw it all in slow-motion. Rawr's eyes opened wide, her mouth round with a scream, her arms raised in defense. I think she thought she was going to get murdered or something. 

Then it was all really fast, I saw flying hair, hands flapping at the air and I heard a lot of screaming. I ran away from the car gasping for air, I was laughing so hard. 

I could hardly get the door to my car open because my eyes were tearing so bad and I was terrified that she would get out of her car and come after me.

I hoisted myself into the driver's seat and leaned against the steering wheel, trying to get a grip. I looked over into Rawr's car and saw her husband laughing, Rawr laughing and then flipping me off.

Which you know, we've been talking to the 4 and 5 about recently because some kid at school was doing it, so I don't think Rawr was setting a very good example.

It took me a few minutes to stop laughing so hard, and it was a few more minutes before I stopped snorting with laughter every time I imagined the look on Rawr's face when I smacked the window.

It's totally worth whatever she does to get back at me.

Dude. This bugs me. I worked really hard on this depiction and Paint jacked it up right as I was putting the finishing touches on Rawr's dead eyes and shrunk the whole file. I couldn't fix it. Stupid Windows 8. Maybe you can zoom... The words just say "HAHA."

Saturday, November 17, 2012

It's not what you think it is

My children take sick pleasure in making sure that I look like a fool as often as possible.

I also suspect that the middle one keeps a journal of all the times I'm embarrassed, but I've snooped through all her stuff and I can't find it. Just out of curiosity, how old do you have to be to rent a safety deposit box?

Tonight, I was over at Rawr's trying to re-watch the movies we rented last night, but couldn't pay attention to on account of the fact that one of them sucked and we just ended up throwing back a few six-packs. Which makes me sounds like a nineteen year-old college freshman, but you know what? I don't care.


So we tried to watch the movies for the second time, only didn't pay attention tonight either. This time all we were drinking was diet soda, so I'm pretty sure the cause of the distraction was the pile of Halloween candy Rawr and I were scarfing down (Yeah. Some people never learn).

I'm not really sure what happened to Rawr growing up, but she drinks her soda warm from the can.




I was sitting on the couch, pouring soda into a glass of ice and explaining something very important to Rawr, I don't remember what exactly but it was probably very in depth and serious because I was looking at Rawr and not paying attention until the soda exploded all over the place and Rawr's house burned down.

Okay, that last part didn't really happen, but the explosion did. All over my lap and onto the couch and cushions and pretty much saturated my entire behind.

Rawr's 10 grabbed a towel and threw it at me so I could clean up the mess and then all the kids started pointing and laughing and ran away.

A few minutes later I was back on the couch when my 11 walked into the room.

11: Hi Mom. [eyeing me]

Me: Hey. What's up?

11: I heard you peed yourself.


Me: [stare] I did not.

11: Then why are you sitting on a towel?

Rawr: [choking to death on her own face]

Me: Dude. It's soda.

11: Sure it is.

That's alright. Tonight, Rawr's 10 is staying over at my house.

The bowl of warm water is already waiting....

Friday, November 9, 2012

If Only

Sometimes, I wish I could go back in time and scrap a particular experience. You know what I mean, right? Maybe it's the time you spot a friend in a crowded store and so you start jumping up and down, yelling and calling their name and basically just acting like a total idiot only to eventually discover that the person you're screaming at only looks like your friend and is now running away from you, so you try to adjust your hair, straighten your shirt and walk quickly away with your head down and hope no one noticed, only you know everyone did..

Totally have never done that. At least, not more than twice.

Other times, maybe you find yourself in a situation you didn't expect, and you're caught so off guard that you end up not being able to say things you needed to say and you end up feeling pretty crappy about the whole thing for the last week.

I've never done that, either. I am incredibly eloquent, yo.

My point is, there should be a rewind button. Or maybe like a Do Over Button. Possibly one of those MIB mind-eraser sticks. Everybody could get one in their Christmas Stocking. It's like the gift that keeps on giving.

Think about it. The 5 is forever chasing the cat around and doing terrible things to him like dressing him in doll clothes and locking him in the shower (not running, of course). If I had one of those mind-erasers I could just zap the cat and not have him shooting through the house like a wildebeast every time the 5 comes within range.

And as grown-ups, I'm pretty sure you and I can think of much more interesting situations where we could use that thing for evil. I mean good. Mostly evil.

OMG, I can think of all KINDS of ways I would use that for evil. Go up to the meanest person I know and just slap their face repeatedly, but zap them with the Mind Controller every time they're about to hit me back so that they're all like, "WHOA, wait. My face hurts. Hey. There's that Emily girl. Why is she so close to-OW! I'LL KILL YOU! YOU SONOFAB-- Hey. There's that Emily girl. OH! SHE HIT ME! I'M GOING TO--" and so on.

I'm not violent. There's just someone I've wanted to slap the crap out of since high school and if I had one of those thingies I could go take care of it in my own passive-aggressive manner.

Is it weird that I can't think of a single way I might use it for good? Oh well, I'm tired. Maybe if I was well rested I could think of something.

Probably not though.

You could really have a lot of fun with something like that. I'm not sure what kind of optical cancer we would all have, but I sort of feel like people would make the sacrifice.

Thursday, November 1, 2012

Halloween. May it die.

 So I barely made it out of bed this morning. I sort of felt like I may have been slipped a Butteringer Roofie and then blacked out for 7 hours worth of after-hours candy consumption.

Because I didn't eat that much, really. I think it was how many I ate in a row. Like, not to gross you out, but I had a moment of shame where I was shoveling candy in my mouth with two hands. But only for a second. It's not like it continued all night long.

I was teasing my 5 (who went as a Parrot) and she sort of got a little nasty? And so I may have grabbed her bucket and ran around the street yelling that I was going to eat it all. And then Squawker (which is what we called her the rest of the night) might have thrown a huge tantrum so I may have opted for a Mother of the Year Moment and started scarfing her candy because really? If you sit there and freak because I'm trying to goof off with you, I will make you cry.

Oh, stop judging me. If you've read my blog for a while you would realize that there are lessons to be learned and there are lessons to be taught. I prefer to be creative. And I never take it too far. Mostly.

Anyway. So I ate like, six pieces right then and there. Squawker got seriously pissed and told me that she was going to hide her candy from me, which I found amusing because there is no where in my house to hide anything. Plus, hello, I'm a Mom. I have eyes in the back of my head. Which she is very aware of.

Squawker eventually calmed down enough to hold my hand and continue trick-o-treating (coincidentally right after being given the option to either suck it up, or go home to bed AFTER I ate all of her candy which, in hindsight, worked out way better for me because those six pieces nearly killed me).

To backtrack a second: A bunch of us Moms in the neighborhood had decided to go together in a big group. Safety in numbers, right? I meant for the adults. Those kids were on a rabid sugar high by 4pm and had long ago lost their senses by the time we headed out to Trick-or-Treat. I did not dress up. Initially, I was going to steal Rawr's idea and dress as Peg Bundy. I know, right? AWESOME. Except I got busy and didn't plan accordingly. But Rawr did. She found this cool thing called a Sugar Skull. Check her out.

There was a very touching moment where I accidentally accused a Grim Reaper of being a child molester and Squawker decided it was better to hold my hand than possibly get snatched up by a towering black robe with red glowing eyes. And it was a tiny bit tricky to keep the handfuls of candy out of the kids' mouths. Every time I turned around one of them was plowing through another chocolate bar.

Something else that was incredibly fun and a First Time Experience for me (other than making accidental accusations because I was on a candy high and apparently lost the use of proper sentence structure) was when my 11 asked to go out with some of his buddies and like an idiot, I said "SURE, SON! YOU GO RIGHT AHEAD!"

Now. Please know that he was given the third degree. And Rawr's 13 was going as well. The boys were supposed to go with the other kid's mom.

Sweet thing about pre-teens. THEY LIE.

Which sucks for them because somehow my 11 got separated from the group and (in a moment of clarity) decided to come looking for us (aka All The Grown Ups). Which was smart.

What wasn't smart was the lie in the first place.

They are all so grounded.

Please rest assured that Rawr and I put the fear of God and Death into them. I may have even tied in my  story of meeting a (falsely accused) abductor. See? Everything happens for a reason.

My 11 was informed that all the loot he scored last night was now mine, and doesn't it so totally suck that all those lies and deception were for naught? For I own the candy.

He was pissed.

And glad to be alive.

I may have taken the Lesson a little far.

The kids were even more pleased to find out this morning that a local dental office will buy back Halloween candy at a dollar a pound, and then ship that candy overseas to our troops.

I think that's sort of awesome. Everyone wins.

Except the kids. Because I'm keeping their money in a Cavity Fund.