Calgon... what the hell happened to us??

My favorite thing in the world used to be to climb into a hot bubble bath, candles all around, with a good book. I could lay in there for hours, until I was pruney and chilled, and then would just run more hot water. I dreamed of a day that I would have a garden tub, with plenty of room for more candles, and a nice ledge to rest my neck on while I read.

I never got my garden tub. In fact, I got a microtub, with an overflow drain set so far down into the tub that I have a supply of thin washcloths whose only purpose is to be shoved into the drain hole, so that I can fill the tub enough to cover my body. It is also built into the wall, so that my feet are crammed up against one wall, and my head is crammed up against the other. Real relaxing.

But the point is, I don't even care. I can't relax anymore. I have good intentions, and I will get in, but I can't quite ignore the outside world.

I gave up the candles long ago. Too much trouble. Also, I never remember to buy bubble bath, or I am too cheap. So I usually use shampoo. I tried the other night to use body wash, not thinking until it was way too late that it was the exfoliating kind. It was like taking a bath in grit.

Then, I have the immediate decision of "Door: open, or closed?"

Door Open means only one thing: There WILL be children in there with me.

And "With Me" means one of two things:

a) Literally WITH ME, meaning that they both run in giggling, and stripping. Against my protests, (because obviously, "...mom is joking! Who wouldn't want to take a bath with US? We are so fun!!") they will climb in, and then Elizabeth will complain about how hot the water is, and look how red her legs are already! And Colby will just stand there saying, "hot. hot. hot. hot. hot. hot. hot. hot" and gestulating madly about how he couldn't possibly sit down in the fiery pits of hell that I call a bath, until I sigh heavily and run cold water.

b) They will both be in the room, Elizabeth telling one million stories about her life, and how she hopes her life will turn out or, most recently, reading her latest poem, (Spaghetti Oh spaghetti you are yummy, You are yummy in my tummy, I could eat you all day, I could eat you all night, I could eat you tomorrow, I could eat you tonight. I could eat you forever, spaghetti), while Colby starts tossing all the bath toys, and many things that aren't bath toys, in the tub for me to play with while I relax.

Door Closed means that most of the time Colby will be outside the door, knocking and crying, and Elizabeth will be yelling at him to "GROW UP!! MAMA WILL BE OUT IN A MINUTE!! SHE IS TAKING A BATH!!" which is generally followed closely by, "OWWWWW!!! COLBY!!!! THAT HURT!!!!!!!! DAAAAAAAAAAAADDDDDDDD!!" and more screaming. Because even though Marty promised to keep them happy and keep an eye on them, he really meant, "Sure honey! Take a bath!! I am on the internet and drinking a beer, and I really don't care what you do because the real world has melted away."

I try putting my ears under the water. It doesn't work. I can still hear muffled cries and bangs, and I still know that Marty isn't watching them. I try singing, but it is hard to sing and read at the same time. Plus, the water is too hot and I am having a hot flash. I just can't relax.

So I get out. And the kids act like I have been on a Jamaican vacation. "MOOMMMYYYY IS OUT!!! HI MOMMMYYYYY!!!" Hugs all around.

Besides, I can always read at bedti... oh wait. No I can't. Because the kids are in bed with me and won't go to sleep with the light on....

But wouldn't my life be empty and boring without them? Yes, it would. Really. I mean it.

it's all about the shoes

Colby is obsessed with shoes. He will NOT walk around barefooted. When he gets out of bed, he grabs the first pair of shoes he can find... sometimes they are his, other times they are mine, or Elizabeth's. He LOVES flip flops and has made Marty INSANE by wearing pink flowered flipflops all day long.

I finally broke down and bought him some flip flops of his very own. He seriously sat on his little couch for over thirty minutes admiring his feet.



















When he was in my cousin Nicole's wedding, he fell in love with his black dress shoes... He even slept in them a couple of nights... until they mysteriously disappeared.... *ahem*



























He also WILL not go without a shirt. It bothers him if his belly shows. I have seen him pull his shirt down in his sleep. And forget about changing his shirt when other people are around... Marty says, "That boy has issues."

La Quinta is Spanish for "Overpriced Pile of Crap!!"

We took a tiny little family vacation this week. We actually went to Memphis to meet a friend of mine that I met on the internet. I have done this so much lately that my family probably wouldn't even blink if I said I was going to meet a guy I met on an internet predators website. "Have a good time!!" they would say, waving happily.

Elizabeth had never stayed in a hotel before, and to her, that was the end all, be all of vacationing. I am talking about a girl that will not miss The Suite Life of Zack and Cody, and who has watched Eloise about 57 times in the last month. I told Marty that for once, I don't want to stay in a crapper hotel, that I wanted her to have a spectacular time in a cool hotel.

First of all, we drove into Memphis at 1AM. (We have found that it is much easier with kids to drive at night.) I had my Mapquest list of three-or-more star hotels, with pools and continental breakfasts. Sadly, Mapquest also SUCKS because we could not find any of the hotels on my list.

We ended up past the main part of Memphis and found a block full of hotels. Marty insisted on staying near the interstate, because he was afraid of crack dealers. I don't know why crack dealers don't deal near the interstate, but apparently it is written in the Crack Dealers Handbook. "Whatever you do, stay away from the interstate."

I pointed out a Marriott, and the La Quinta. The La Quinta actually looked nicer from the outside than the Marriott, so Marty went in there. He came back and told me how much it would cost, and I winced, but smiled and said that was fine. He comes back a few minutes later and said my credit card was denied. I blew up because I just paid that damn thing off, actually OVERPAID it off by $100. Therein lied (? layed??) the problem. I took it to Shreveport gambling with my dad for father's day, and used it for gas. Apparently when someone who only buys groceries and gas for 3 years tries to use a card in two different states in the same week, someone gets suspicious. A call to the company, and we had a hotel room.

We get to our room, and there is one light switch that operates every light in the room. You can have lights "on" or you can have lights "off". With two little kids, that sucks. Then, every hotel I have ever stayed in, had a separate sink-and-coffee-pot area... Not this one. Your sink is in the bathroom, and so is your coffee pot. Maybe that is how Memphisonians do it... take a poop and make coffee at the same time... Ick. Not only THAT but there were no real cups... only paper. Not even environmentally un-friendly Styrofoam... just paper. And right above the coffee pot with the 2 ounce paper cups was a sign that "boasted" that La Quinta was Spanish for "Environmentally friendly!! A trillion gallons of water are used each day to wash sheets and pillowcases that were only used one time! Therefore, at La Quinta, if you are staying more than one day, we will not wash your sheets unless you request it!! Go Environment!!" Guess what La Quinta?? You fucked it up with the paper cups. NOT environmentally friendly. And I don't like them either.

Ok, so they had a cool pool. And a cool hot tub. And referencing said "hot" tub, cool is the operative word. I even let my kids swim in it. Besides THAT, the pool and hot tub are indoors, which we wanted, but the ventilation SUCKED.

I have to take a verbal detour here... Back when I was 17 and stupid, I cleaned an enclosed shower with straight bleach. I didn't know any better. I stayed in there an hour, before I started puking and dying. I should have probably gone to the hospital, but as I said... young. stupid. I was in bed for nearly two days with a migrane, throwing up and generally wishing to die. Since that day, I am very oversensitive to the smell of bleach and chlorine. One whiff and I get a headache and get sicky feeling. We don't even buy bleach. So it may not be all La Quinta's fault, but still. I want to blame them.

After and hour of swimming with the kids, I had a splitting headache. Of course, I am the most unorganized person in the world, so I had no pain medication. "No problem." I think. There is another sign in the bathroom. "La Quinta is Spanish for 'We got you covered!' If you are in need of any toiletries or necessities that you left at home, please just inquire at the front desk." (In case you are getting the feeling that the bathroom is starting to look like Times Square, you are correct. There is also a sign telling me how much everything in the room costs in case I would like to steal something. And another sign that tells me that dirty towels go on the floor and clean ones need to be hung back up. And a sign that tells me that hygenically, it is best to wipe from front to back... ok, I am kidding about that last one.)

So I ride the elevator back down to the lobby, with visions of Tylenol PM floating in my head. I walk up to the front desk and I say, "Would you happen to have any aspirins or tylenols?"

The desk clerk looks at me like I asked for a vial of heroin and a spoon. "NOOoooo" he replies, rather rudely, and just stands there... waiting.

I feel like I have to say something, so I manage to stutter out, "oh.. um... the sign.. Spanish for Got you Covered, in the bathroom?? Said... you might have stuff... here. Like aspirin. I forgot my aspirin. (mama always said, life is like a box of chocolates... run, Forrest, run)"

"We have toothpaste." he replies, like I am the worlds biggest idiot.

OH!! TOOOOOOTHPASTE. ok. That's it?? Is TOOTHPASTE the only possible necessity that a traveler might need?? I mean, yeah, you can clean your teeth with it, and supposedly can dry up a zit, so really, WHAT ELSE COULD YOU NEED??? Fricken toothpaste.

So, I went to bed with a headache.

Next complaint: Big sign outside, "INDOOR POOL AND HOT TUB!! HUGE CONTINENTAL BREAKFAST!!"

Huge: eggs, bacon, dry cereal, and bread. That's it. Drinks? Coffee, apple juice.

Bathroom in the lobby? One toilet, door does not lock. Bathroom in our room? Door does not lock.

I don't ask for much, and I am generally pretty easy to please. If this had been a $50 hotel room, I would not be bitching... as much. I mean, a $50 hotel room, I would expect paper cups, and no aspirin. But seriously, for what I paid for two nights in this hotel room, we could have stayed one night in the Peabody for crying out loud. The fricken PEABODY.

I bet they have aspirin.

Elizabethisms

Just a few random funny things from the mouth of my 6 year old.

I just stepped into the living room to check on the kids who had gotten somewhat loud and giggley... I found them piled on top of every single blanket we own, with every last pillow piled around them.

"Guess what Mommy? Me and Colby are pretending that we won a trip to paradise and now we are about to go swimming!"

"WOW!! How fun!! Where are you at?"

"I told you, paradise! I think it is a city in Hawaii... or Texas, I can't remember exactly."




I heard from a friend that sometimes speech therapists recommend having kids Colby's age who are slow to talk drink from straws instead of sippy cups, to strengthen their lip muscles. I figured that it couldn't hurt, so I bought him two of the Spongebob travel cups with the straw. When Elizabeth asked why Colby got cool new cups and she didn't, I explained that the straw was supposed to help his lips, and make him talk more. That was yesterday.

This morning, we were driving to work, and on the way, we passed a train that was traveling parallel to us. Wonder of wonders, Colby shouted out, "TAIN! TOOOO TOOO!!!"

Elizabeth exclaimed, "HOLY COW!! Those straws are a miracle! We need to buy a whole box!!"



My aunt took her to the waterpark yesterday, and said that she insisted that she wanted to dive off the diving board. Of course, she got up there and panicked and had to climb back down.

I asked her last night why she didn't jump, and she said, "I just found out that I am totally scared of hikes."

"Scared of what??" I asked, trying really hard not to laugh.

"You know, scared of hikes. Like when you hike up to something that is really tall, like the diving board."

Deaf Leppard

I noticed last year that I am losing the hearing in my left ear. Not really funny. I noticed it when we used to have a TV in the bedroom. Marty would be watching some asinine show on TV, and I would be trying to sleep, and by chance, I found that if I laid on my right side, I couldn't hear the TV at all. Flip to the left, and I could hear it fine. It bothered me, but not enough to go to the doctor to get a hearing test. Besides, what can they say besides, "Yep. You can't hear good."? I don't need a $20 copay to tell me that.

I also noticed about a year ago that I was starting to talk louder. I have always been a loudmouth anyway, but it has been worse lately. I will be on the phone with a friend while at work, and have actually had another girl across the office ask me later about something I said while I was on the phone. And I have whispered indecent things to Marty at family get togethers, only to have him clap his hand across my mouth because my whisper is apparently... well, not so much a whisper at all.

Well, lately I have noticed that it is getting worse. I seriously cannot hear my children in the back seat unless I turn the radio down and turn off the air. So our car rides go about like this:

"mom, froofy modo bobo glabblepoo."

Turn down radio, turn off air.

"What honey?"

"I said, How much farther until we get to Meme's?"

"Oh, about 15 minutes."

"OK."

"Is that all?"

"Yep."

Turn up radio, turn on air.

"MOM! Clobo mot tis slpeener nost"

Turn down radio, turn off air.

"What, honey?"

"Colby has his finger in his nose!"

(since the Amazing Crayola Nose Incident, I have told her to watch for Colby to put things up his nose and to tell me. So now I hear the finger thing 1 million times a day.)

"Colby, get your finger out of your nose."

silence, silence. "Is that all?"

"Yep, you just told me to tell you, and I did."

"OK, honey, thanks."

Turn up radio, turn on air.

"Mom! I wurve tips on canna turps itsup"

*SIGH SIGH*

Turn down radio, turn off air.

"WHAT sugarpie honeybunch????????"

"I SAID, I love this song, can you please turn it up?"

TURN UP RADIO, TURN UP AIR.

This goes on for hours. And hours.

Well, I was driving home from my mom's on Monday, and doing the radio / air thing for the bazillionth time and I was thinking about how I wish I could hear better, and I suddenly noticed that I could not hear anything on the left side. NOTHING. I could hear the radio fine on the right and the left was dead. I started panicking, and within 10 minutes, I was wiping tears, imagining my life as a 33 year old with a miracle ear, shouting in Walmart that "WE DON'T NEED CONDOMS, I HAVE MY MONTHLY!!" and having Marty tell me my hearing aide battery is low, and to stop yelling. And then divorcing me.

I seriously was upset. I got home and was unloading the kids and trying to keep my "Mommy is not going deaf everything is just fine" face on, and just happened to glance over AT the radio... someone had knocked something into the speaker balance thing... it was all the way to the right. I put it back in the middle... and I could hear music. It was a miracle!

What an idiot.

If a bird were chirping at my window sill today, I would not be very happy about it.

I must be doing something wrong. Seriously, if all mothers have the kind of mornings that I seem to have day after day, I don't think there would be many mothers left. There would be a ton of single dads, and all the "Missing" signs would show haggard women, with notations underneath to the effect of "Missing, Wife / Mother pictured above. Answers to the name of "Momcani" or "Honeywillyou". Last seen in the blue minivan, leaving the daycare. Please help us find Honey!! We are out of underwear, and peanut butter and jelly."



But first, we must start out at my mother's house yesterday. We had a nice drenching rain, without thunder or lightning, so I let my kids play out in the rain. Unfortunately, Colby only owns one pair of shoes that fit, so they were soaked.

We didn't get home until late last night, and I stayed up long enough to wash his shoes, and get them in the dryer. Then I went to sleep and slept 7 blissful hours.

This morning, I got up and stumbled bleary-eyed into the kitchen. I poured water into the carafe and then from the carafe into the coffee pot. Put in the filter, put in the coffee, turned on the coffeepot.

Took a shower. Dressed. Went bck to the kitchen to get some coffe and discovered that I had never put the carafe back on the coffeepot. My coffee pot is one of those that won't drain down unless there is a carafe underneath, so all that coffee drained to where the filter was and then overflowed, hot coffee and grounds everywhere. *BANGS HEAD ON COUNTER*

Then, I wake the kids up, and wake Marty up again. Things go along fairly smoothly until I go to the dryer to get Colby's shoes. Apparently one of his shoes must have knocked against the dryer door just right because there is laundry hanging out on to the floor and everything is still soaking wet and smells like wet horse butt. GRRREAT. I cannot send him to school in wet tennis shoes. So I rush around and finish getting everyone ready and then head with both kids in tow to Walmart. (Marty has leisurely filled his coffee cup and set off for work at a carefree pace, enjoying his "R" rated radio station with the windows rolled down and the warm summer morning breeze rustling his strawberry locks...)

In order to understand my bitchiness, you need to picture a big triangle. My house is at the point of the triangle, Walmart is the far left point and daycare is the far right. My office is a few blocks from Walmart. So to go by Walmart is to go in the opposite direction as daycare. (Roughly, Walmart would be on about 36th street - if Arkadelphia didn't stop numbering and start naming at 26th - and the daycare would be on 3rd street.)

I get to walmart and have 20 minutes to spare. I unload the kids (including a barefoot Colby) and get them inside, and in a buggy. I get back to the shoes and... where there used to be an "Infants" section, now there is just a "Girls" section. I asked the walmart lady where the infant boys shoes were and she said they didn't have any. DIDN'T HAVE ANY??? Thanks for the help there, sugar!!! I look and find ONE PAIR of UNISEX sandals in a size 7. Those will freaking work. Get up to the front... and I think I may cry. Seriously. I am OUT of checks, I do NOT have a debit card, NOR do I have a credit card. I keep looking at my Movie Gallery membership card and my Subway Sub Club stamps as if they will somehow miraculously change into legal tender. "Oh, you take expired driver's licenses from 1995 where I look really young and thin? That's magnificent!!!" Short of dancing topless on the bag carousel for change, I can't pay for the DAMN SHOES. I haul the kids back out to the car, call marty at work and tell him, "I am driving PAST the fire station. I will slow down and I would like for you to throw the debit card in the window."

He did.

Went BACK to walmart, bought the damn shoes. It is 8:25. I have 5 minutes to drive from Fictional 36th Street to 3rd street. I toss the kids into the car, cram the shoes on Colby, drive very fast downtown, pull up at the daycare (already officially late for work at 8:31) take him in, and his teacher says, "Hi Colby!! Where is your lunch?"

LUNCH? LUNCH??? He has SHOES!! We didn't do lunch today, we did SHOES. I can only do one thing a day and today SHOES WON!! HOOORAAAYY for SHOES!!

Drive back to 26th street to my office. Late. Again. Boss pissed. Again.

The BEST part of all of this is that Elizabeth has Vacation Bible School this week. SOOOO, at 8:50 (yes, about 15 minutes after getting to work) I get to get back in the car and drive her from 26th street to 5th street with a brief stop-off at 28th street to pick up Colby some lunch, and then on to 3rd street to drop off his lunch and back to 26th street to work until lunchtime when I have to drive back to 5th street to pick her up and then back to 26th to work and when I get off work I will drive back to 3rd Street to get Colby and then back to the apex of my triangle to drink apple martinis and start working on my Missing Mom poster.

Heck, if I don't do it before I run away, it won't get done.


*That old picture has really nothing to do with my blog except it is a mom and a baby in a car. They look much more calm than me and my kids do, however... but how much do you LOVE that old carseat???

Report Card

Yelling: A
Bitching: A
Crankiness: A
Motherhood: D-



Today was just one of those days where I just was not a good mother. I have no excuses, and I know that everyone has these days, but it still does not stop me from sitting here and feeling bad.

My kids were excessively whiny, and for the third night in a row, refused the dinner that I prepared. Within an hour, they are both in the kitchen whining that they are hungry. I tried the old Pull Their Dinner Plate Out Of The Fridge thingy, but that just seemed to make the whole situation worse. After the 10th chorus of, "I'm hungry I'm starving I need a snack just some cereal can I have just a little bit of icecream can I have a cookie can I have some fruit snacks I am starving my stomache hurts I am so hungry I DON'T WANT what we had for dinner it was GROSS I am starving why can't I have some chips you are so mean you aren't a nice mother I am starving my stomache is growling can I have some string cheese how bout just some cheese in a bowl..................... " from the girl, and the millionth chorus of "MMMMMMooooore. MMMMMooooreeee MMMMMMMMMoooore MMMMMMMMMMooore..." while holding (and throwing and picking back up and throwing) his snack bowl from the boy, I finally lost it.

I screamed at Elizabeth and sent her to bed. I turned off the kitchen light, threw Colby's snack bowl in the sink and let him scream in the living room and I sat outside in the breezeway by myself.

Now they are both asleep and I have this urge to wake them up and give them ice cream. But I won't.

Hi, my name is Axis...

This is one of those bitchy blogs.

In most offices and such, a lunch hour is from 12 - 1. In most cases, such as mine, I am expected to get all my personal errands done during my lunch hour. Silly things like, oh... eating lunch. And going to the bank, and the post office, and the library. So what I don't understand, is why the bank people, and the post office people, and the library people get to take 12-1 as their lunch, too. They should go to lunch at 10-11 or from 2-3. Because really, the world SHOULD revolve around ME.

I was in the post office today to get a BOX. That's all I needed. One little bitty box. And I was there for 22 minutes. Before that, I was in line at the bank for 15. That is dumb. And it makes me nuts. My blood pressure goes up. I am not a very patient person.

My witty girlchild has been at my office with me for the last three days. (Yes, I am very lucky that my boss does not object to Take Your Daughter To Work Summer.) Her smartass side shone through brightly today, while we were waiting for that damn box at the post office.

We were in line and the clock above our heads hit 1:00... Elizabeth says, "You are supposed to be back at work at 1:00. You are going to get fired." Then it hit 1:01... and she starts chanting, "Fi-- rred. FI---RRREDD. Fi ---rrrrred." in a very Beevis voice, until I start laughing and tell her to hush it. We get halfway back to work and she is still giving me time checks: "1:04... FIRED!! .... 1:05.... FIRED!!! 1:06... FIRED!!!" and then she says, "Hey, if you get fired, we can go home and cry, and then go to the waterpark!!"

I seriously love that child. She is going to give me many wrinkles.