catastrophe

That is what I have caused in my house.

I decided to surprise my husband and take the damn Christmas tree down by myself. My real, needley, dried up, been-here-since-the-weekend-of-thanksgiving tree. I have never taken a tree down by myself.

Oh heavens.

First, I broke Elizabeth's Hallmark ballerina ornament. I couldn't find her box, so I laid her on the arm of the chair until I could locate it, and then promptly knocked her off. And when I say broke, I mean she has multiple fractures of her legs, hands, and arms. I think she is in approximately 9 pieces.

Other than that one, all the other ornaments made it safely to the Christmas box. Initially.

So then it was time to take off the 19 strands of lights that Marty put on the tree. The lights are always, always his job. He puts the tree in the stand and puts the lights on, and then the tree is mine. Therefore, I do not know the method he uses to adorn the tree with lights. I assumed (ass u me) that he strung them on the tree in a circular fashion, round and round the tree until he reached the top. The tree is in the corner, and is rather dry and pokey, so I did not really want to walk circles around the tree, getting jabbed repeatedly with sticks and needles in the cramped corner of the room. SO, I tried spinning the tree to take the lights off. Oddly, that did not work. I tried standing on the couch and taking them off from the top. That did not work either. I tried pulling them all down to the floor and then lifting the tree off of them. ummm... miraculously, that did not work. Every way that I tried to remove them, they became more and more tangled.

I finally got pissed and put on rubber gloves, grabbed the tree by the trunk and just yanked it through the living room and out of the house, lights and all. My thinking was that it would be much easier to get the lights off if I could move all the way around it outside.

hahahahahha.

The 8 foot tree moving through the house scared colby to pieces. It took me 10 minutes to get him calmed down.

In the process of moving it out, I knocked over the floor lamp, and knocked the box of ornaments off the couch. More broken ornaments. I also stubbed my toe and it bled. I am unsure what I stubbed it on, but it could be any multitude of toys that I did not pick up before starting this task.

The stand was full of water. Brown, stinky tree water. I spilled it. Everywhere. I think you might be supposed to take the tree out of the stand before moving it.

The worst of all is that I dropped approximately 47 million tree needles into the carpet.

I have never had carpet in the living room - I have always had hardwood floors which are SO easy to sweep. This year, a large, beautiful off-white rug was my tax-refund gift to myself.

Carpet is not easy to sweep.

No biggie, I have a rainbow vacuum. I haul the MF out, fill the tank with water, hook it up, plug it up and start vacuuming.

Ummm... it doesn't vacuum up tree needles. In fact, all it really does is break the long, dry needles in to really small, sharp, needle powders. I have clogged up the hose of the rainbow with a million needles and there are still 46 million in my carpet.

I even tried the higher power hose without a head on it.

Nope. Clogged that up too.

So now, the situation is:

1. 46 million tree needles in the carpet.

2. Two tree needle clogged rainbow hoses.

3. A tree in my yard full of lights that are horribly and completely knotted up from my pulling an yanking.

4. Brown water stinky stained carpet.

5. broken ornaments

6. Sappy hands

7. Sappy feet

8. Sappy children

9. Rash from needles

10. Bloody foot

11. Needle powder, everywhere.

12. Crying mama, who decided to give up and blog instead.

It is not really looking up for the New Year. And somehow, I don't think Marty is going to be impressed with my industriousness.

you can pick your friends noses, but you can't pick your friends...

Cause if you could, my friends would definately include Jennifer Weiner.

When I found "Good In Bed" all on my own, I was so excited. I read the book twice in one weekend and then started sharing it. "You are going to LOVE this girl!" I would say. "This book is one of the best books I have ever read!"

"Oh, yeah. Jennifer Weiner." they would reply. "She is pretty good. Have you read her other books?"

Other books?? What?? She couldn't have written any other books, because I FOUND HER. All on my own!!!

But, this was one time that I was wrong. And I am glad! Each book of hers that I read, I love more than the last. It sounds corny to say, but she really speaks to me. Her sense of humor closely mirrors my own.

Santa brought "Goodnight, Nobody" for me for Christmas this year. Sadly, he must have left it early, because after I finished my last library book on Friday, I stumbled upon "Goodnight, Nobody" in Marty's shop, in a taped up bag, under a boat motor and a bunch of life jackets. And then I thought, "I will just read the first chapter and then sneak it back."

Needless to say, Marty found me many chapters later, laughing my ass off, and looking very guilty. "There will be nothing under the tree to replace that book." he says, sternly.

So, I bought myself a flannel nightgown so that I would have something to open. HA!! I showed him!!

Beware the wolf in toddler clothing...

The funniest thing happened when we went to get our tree. We actually went and got it the day after Thanksgiving, but I kept forgetting to share...

Our tradition is that we set aside about two hours to go and get our tree. We ride the haywagon out into the field, then walk around until we find the perfect tree. We cut it down, and then ride the haywagon back to the main house.

While they are trimming up the tree, and shaking all the needles out of it, we let the kids climb around on the hay bales, and we look at handmade ornaments and drink cider and all that fun Christmas stuff. Then, on our way out, we always stop by the goat pen and let the kids feed the goats.

Now, these goats are pets, very docile and not a bit skittish... generally. Elizabeth was over feeding them, and Colby crawled up to the pen and was talking to them and I am taking pictures. About 2 seconds after I snapped this picture, I realized that the mama goat was not amused. She was spitting and snorting and stomping, and getting ready to head-butt my sweet boy. I jerked Colby up right in the nick of time.

All Marty and I can figure is that she thought he was a predator coming to eat her babies the way he crawled up to the pen. It could have been a bad thing, but the picture really cracks me up.

The Legend of Johnny Cash

I will readily admit here that I am a bit of a dork.

I love Johnny Cash. Yes, a lot of his songs are hokey, but I think that is part of the charm. I begged and pleaded with my husband the night Walk the Line opened to take me to the movies. I wanted to be at the first showing. We made it, thirty minutes early, and it was already sold out. I was so upset. I then had to talk him into staying in town until the 10:30PM showing. He relented, and in the end, he was glad he did. It is a really, really good movie, even if you aren't a fan of Johnny's. I can't wait until the dvd comes out with all the extras.

Either way, Marty bought me the album above for an early Christmas present. I have listened to it constantly (in the car, i am not obsessively walking around listening to it!) for 4 days.

Doodlebop Education

Wanna know why I loooove watching the Doodlebops??

At the end of the show, when Deedee, Rooney and Moe Doodle do their little song and dance number, ("I say CAWLIE!!! YOU say FLOWER!!!") and the camera pans the audience, and you see all the gleeful children happily singing ("FLOWER!!!") and dancing and laughing... Invariably, in the center of the screen is Perfect Mom. She is there with her 5 children, dancing and laughing and bringing joy to the world. When they leave the Doodlebops set, they will head to a soup kitchen and feed the homeless. This family has nothing but joy in their hearts, and a song on their tounge.

But!! The best part!! Peer around Perfect mom and her brood of plexichildren, and if you look hard enough, you will find, "I am about to have a breakdown and shoot a bunch of Damndoodlefuckingbops" mom and / or dad. I am not kidding, it is the funniest thing. You can just tell that this mom / dad had probably had never even watched the show until today, just heard the announcement on the telly and thought, "Hmmm, the Doodlebops Live.... I bet Billy Wayne and Edna Jo would like that!" So then they waited in line, in the cold, with two whiny kids that cried and whined and begged for snacks like Perfect Mom had packed for her children, or wanted to get in the car and warm up, or wanted a piggy back ride or their feet were tired... They finally get into the theater and wait for hours for the show to start, and when it does.... Well, they wish that they had actually been arrested for tax evasion last year, because then they would be in jail, and not on the Doodlebops set.

The fun part is finding them. Kind of like a Where's Waldo? for the jaded parents. Where's The Man That Is About To Kill The Doodlebops? Or, Where's The Mom That Is Drinking Tequila To Drown Out The Sounds Of The Doodlebops?

Oh wait. That might be Perfect Mom... hmmmm....

Don't worry... be happy now!

Ok, after 6 months of being off the Lexapro that I was convinced I did not need, I finally got tired of being a cranky hateful bitch every single minute of every single day. So now I am on Paxil.

I feel better, just knowing that soon I am going to feel better... until I decide to look up paxil, to see if it has any odd side effects...

Now I am afraid to take the damn things!!!

Small, silly stories like:

My daughter who was 14 was on 35mg Paxil last year. while she was on this medicine she started having fainting spells. After being on the meds for 3 months she started having seizures. These seizures were very severe. After having one she would lose her speech and be very tired, and she didn't have any memory as to what happened except that she was exhausted...

Or, for the more adult consumer:

I started taking Paxil about a year and a half ago. My mother put me on it, but failed to look up the side-effects. I recently did so and discovered that it was just as addictive as herion, banned in over 5 countries (including England) and not acceptable for people under 18 to take. I'm only 15. After I realized how horrible the drug was, I began trying to take myself off of it. I experienced every symtom you had after only 3 days of being off of it. The fourth night, I woke up screaming, my whole bed was wet with sweat. I realized that I need to take my pill and when I got up to take it, I couldn't walk hardley at all. I felt as though I were drunk. I can't quit, I'm completly addicted and I feel ashamed that I don't have enought will power to stop. This drug has beaten me down.

Or, even more fun:

I've been on Paxil for almost a year and now I'm starting to go off of it. I was forced cold turkey a few times because of missed perscription refills, and
I had horrible shocks that started in my calvs and zapped me up in the head so hard that i would pass out. i threw up, didn't eat, cried for no reason, felt the room spinning, saw things that weren't there, extreme headache and exhaustion.

So... maybe getting fat on Lexapro would not be so bad after all... lets see... fat and happy, or having shocks, seizures, and searching for guns...

Uggg. I don't know what to do. I just want to feel better!

Give the gift of broken bones, and higher home insurance

We took Colby and Elizabeth to see Santa at the mall last week.

First, let me tell you that I am so disappointed in the mall. All these years, they had a simple chair, with a tree beside it, and you could take your kid and let them meet Santa and sit in his lap, and you could video it, or take your own camera... so that is what we did every year.

This year, they decided that they weren't making nearly enough money, and they "sold" the job to a photography company. So now, they have a huge, gaudy, ugly display with Santa sitting lost in the middle of the madness, and they have it all roped off, with huge signs proclaiming, "NO CAMERAS!! NO VIDEO!!! We are HAPPY to capture the magical moment for YOU!!"

Um, yeah. We are happy to capture the magical moment for you for $10 for a 3X5 photo, or the Family Pack - 1 8X10, 1 5X7, and 6 wallets for $49.95!!! One thing you can say about the photo people, they are generous.

So anyway, we get in line with all the other cranky parents, and screaming children, and we wait. Every other time the photographer would take a pic, the computer would freeze up, and they would have to reboot it. So it took forever.

We finally get up to Santa, and Elizabeth runs nervously to Santa's lap. They chit-chat for a moment, and Marty and I are struggling to get Colby out of the stroller, and the photographer tells us that they are having to reboot again. Great.

Meanwhile, Santa asks Elizabeth, "So have you been good this year?"

"Yes, sir." she replies.

"So what would you like for Christmas?"

"A trampoline!!" she says, breathlessly.

"HO HO HO!! A TRAMPOLINE!!! Do you think that will fit in my sleigh??" Santa says, somewhat condescendingly.

I am shaking my head like mad behind Elizabeth's head. No kid of mine is going to own one of those death traps!!

Until I see the disappointment, and heartache in Elizabeth's eyes.

"No sir, probably not." she says, dejectedly.

"What else would you like, Elizabeth?" Santa hohoho's.

"A stereo for my room, so that I can listen to my cd's," she says quietly.

"HO HO HO!!! A STEREO!! MY GOODNESS!!!"

I guess Elizabeth was feeling like the most selfish kid in the universe at this point, because she jumped in with, "Just a little one, Santa! Just a little bitty one!!"and she is holding her hands approximately 3 inches apart, pantomiming the worlds smallest stereo.

Meanwhile, we are still waiting for the computer to reboot, and Santa tries to send Elizabeth on her way... Marty is wrestling Colby, who wants to singlehandedly destroy the crappy, massive backdrop. I say, "Oops, wait Santa, we wanted to get a picture with you."

"OH!! Alrighty!! Oh little photo elf!! We are waiting for a picture!" Santa sounds a bit peeved.

But not nearly as peeved as Photo Elf... "I am TRYING, SANTA!!! We are having a bit of TROUBLE with the CAMERA!!!" Even though she is smiling like mad, you can see a glimpse of Satan in her eyes.

When she finally gets the camera going, she does not even try to get Colby to look at her. Just snaps a picture. And who is the fool that still spends the $10 for the tiny photo? That would be me.

After we got home, and got the kids to bed, I could still see Elizabeth's sad little face in my heart. I finally told Marty that I found out the truth about Santa when I was 7, and that we are in our last times of Elizabeth believing in the magic of Christmas. And that Colby is still too young to realize that we spent $300 on his sister, and $30 on him. It didn't take much convincing.

Anybody want to help put together a trampoline before Christmas?? Did you know that they come in a box??

OOOOHHH the weather outside...

Sucks.

In case I haven't mentioned it fifty thousand times yet, I hate the cold. Hate, detest, abhor, loathe, despise, ... um, where is my thesaurus when I need it??

As soon as the temps drop below 50, (and ideally it should always be at least 75, but I try to give nature a bit of a break) I get cranky. I own one coat, because I hate coats. I hate buying them (freaking expensive!) and I hate wearing them. (freaking bulky! Like I need to look fatter!) I hate dragging out the sweaters, and the corduroy pants, and the hats and scarves and gloves. I hate going outside in the cold and warming up the car. I was so thrilled when my used Durango had leather seats... NEVER AGAIN. Those fuckers never get warm. My ass is a perpetual ice cube. (I asked Santa for corduroy seat covers for Christmas, but Santa thinks they are a waste of money and that my ass will be cold no matter because I am impossible to please this time of year, and I need to shut up and get happy because we don't live in Jamaica.)

Right now, it is like, 20 degrees or something outside. The Natalie Thermometer says that it is -200. I may as well live in the Artic Circle. My hands and feet are never warm. This house is old, and poorly insulated and with natural gas prices the way they are, we can't afford to keep the thermostat on the 85 degrees that would make me happy. We don't have a fireplace, (note to self - next house: two bathrooms and fireplace.) and when I go to visit people who DO have a fireplace, I spend the visit sitting IN the fire, finally warm.

My skin gets so dry and itchy this time of year that the only thing I can do for relief is to take baths with a ton of baby oil in the water. If not, I will scratch my legs bloody in my sleep.

At the office, I work with three men who love winter, who duck hunt and deer hunt in their underwear, and with 7 women who are apparently in the midst of menopause. It is nothing for the office temp to be displaying a flashing "57" degrees. And more often than not, if the temp gets up to 60, they are crying about how stuffy it is, and propping open the front door.

I keep a tiny space heater under my desk, my feet up against it all day long. Co-workers come in to bring me my mail, or to ask me a question, and without fail the conversation goes like this:

"Hey Natalie? Mr. Robbins just called and ... OHMYGOSH!!! It is so FREAKING HOT in here!! How can you STAND it??"

"Uh, get out." I say. "You are letting in a draft." I shove my toes into the slats of my heater. My socks start to smolder.

My dad is the same way I am. The only difference is that he jacks his heater up, and has had little gas wall heaters installed in every room of his house. He says, "I don't care if I have to file fucking bankruptcy, I will be damned if I am going to be cold in my own fucking house."

(My dad really does talk like that, by the way. Just in case you were wondering where my gutter mouth came from.)

My mother, not so much. My mother burns up all the time. She just gave me a wool blanket because she can't sleep under it because it is too hot. She rarely runs her heat at home. I hate visiting there in the winter. I feel like little Laura Ingalls during the long prairie winter, cuddled under a blanket, not even daring to go and pee, because my pee would probably freeze into a little yellow icicle. Ma cooks supper in her shorts and t-shirt, and I am wondering if it is possible to get frostbite while sitting on a leather couch in the game room.

My kids seem to be oblivious to the cold. It is just me continually freezing. Day in and day out.

I wish I could hibernate.

schadenfreude

(excuse the horrid pixelation on my widdle family!!)


Sunday, we went to have our family pics made in Hot Springs. My super talented photographer / insurance / stripper friend Misty takes our pics every year but refuses to let me pay her. She even brings me professional film! She is so nice. (And yes, I am working on a little gift for her... but don't tell!!)

Before we went to meet Misty, we stopped at the mall to have the kid's pics taken with Santa. We were in a hurry because it was 2:15 when we left the mall and we were supposed to meet Misty all the way downtown. Marty went to put Elizabeth in the car and I was getting Colby out of the stroller at the back of the Durango. For some stupid reason, Marty came behind me to help, but I didn't see him. I swung around with Colby in my arms and ran smack into Marty. I knocked him off balance and he CRACKED his head open on the rear hatch door, which I had thoughtfully left open so that loading the stroller would be easier. He literally fell to the ground moaning and holding his head and I seriously tried not to laugh. It was not easy because the giggles were boiling up inside of me. Why do I do this???? I managed to get myself under control while I buckled Colby in, and then went back to check on Marty who was still on the ground. (I KNOW!! I AM SO FREAKING MEAN!!) He seriously probably needed a couple of stitches. His head bled all afternoon. We just kept wiping it clean for the pics. Either way, I remained as calm and comforting as i could, until finally we were about halfway downtown and I pictured it again in my head, and just lost it. I was laughing so hard I could hardly drive. And what made it worse, (as if anything could) I kept saying, "Marty I love you (hahahahahahha) so much, (hahahahahahaha) and i am so sorry (hahahahahhahaha) that you are (hahahahhahaha) hurt!! Do you want (hahahhahaha) to go to the (hahahahhahha) ER??"Luckily, he knows how I am and was not pissed.

He is a freaking saint.

if I were rich...

... my kid's rooms would be completely furnished with stuff from The Land Of Nod.

At the same time, it is fascinating to me that the "My grandfather built this bed back in 1945 and I am passing it down to you" look can be so freaking expensive. Seriously, a $99 bean bag chair*???

*this blog in no way is meant to be demeaning to parents who have paid $99 for a bean bag chair.