Today's A Very Symbolic Day...

A couple things of great importance have occurred on July 29 in previous years:

1. My mother was born on July 29 in 1944 and is here celebrating with us for her 61st birthday. My mother barely looks 50.

2. On July 29, one year, I was shirtless and bra-less rolling around on the floor in my bedroom with my high school boyfriend when I was caught by my younger brother, who was FIVE at the time. Imagine the scenario... I KNEW I had to tell my mother because what kind of five-year-old could keep a secret like THAT, and/or not be scarred for life!?!?

And no amount of plying him with all the candy in the world was going to keep him from saying something, from asking questions, from sharing this new-found information with his friends in kindergarten. So, I had to tell my mother, on HER birthday, that my younger brother caught Steve and me messing around and I didn't have my shirt on. Happy Birthday, Mom. And yes, my brother, who is now 25 years old still likes to bring it up.

3. Another momentous event happened on July 29. I lost my virginity on the floor in my parents' bedroom. And no, they were NOT home. And NO, it was not with the same boy from #2 above. And NO, I'm not telling you what year it was, but feel free to guess.

Oww, My Head

Okay, so I've determined that not drinking a frap for six days and then having a grandecafevanillafraplightwithwhip causes headaches when I go this long without drinking one.

So, the dilemmna:

a.)continue drinking them

b.)go cold turkey, save twenty bucks plus a week and the cost of Advil to try to alleviate said headache.

My heady hurts.

Hard Habit to Break

"Hi, my name is Manic and I've been Starbucks-free for six days now."

Hi Manic!

I can't wait till the sitter arrives so I can go out and get me one big ole grandecafevanillafrapwithwhip... it's time to splurge.

Or...

I could go out and buy myself a new pair of shoes, or pants, or go see three or four movies (sans snacks) with the money I didn't spend on Starbucks this week!

Completely non-related: Alani--read my comment on previous post--we're neighbors!

I Have:

...Eaten crap, if you consider turkey and cheese, a part of a PB&J, and some diet-friendly chips crap, which I do because all I wanted to eat was some fiber-filling granola and a Boston Cream Pie flavored light yogurt.

Procrastinated. See what I've done today? Not much. Well, I did do my four-mile walk with R. I have done two-to-three loads of laundry. I have done an hour's worth of legit work in which I will be paid for from my Internet Employer. I have talked on the phone, checked email, read blogs, written blogs, responded to emails, written emails, posted on the Yahoo Chick Lit site, commented on blogs... this cannot be considered work.

I Have Not Yelled At Kids Really All That Much.

More later, as I will surely continue to procrastinate.

Things I WILL NOT do Today

Yell at the kids (all that much).

Eat crap.

Procrastinate.

That's all I can think of right now. If I can NOT DO these things, it may be a good day. What are you NOT going to do today?

What Am I Doing?

Procrastinating seems to be the most appropriate word of the evening. And if I were to continue with this post, I would be successfully procrastinating, but I think I really do have to buckle down and GET THIS THING DONE!

Five Things You REALLY Want To Do:

I'll go first, and my list is longer than five, (and is in random order) but yours doesn't have to be:

1. Have more time to write each day.

2. Pay someone to do the laundry for me.

3. Have Starbucks start the "Starbucks Truck" so you can just go out your front door when you hear the music and buy your nonfatsugarfreevanillalattenowhipiced-in-summer, hot-in-winter without having to drive anywhere.

4. Get back on track with WW.

5.Have more time to sleep.

6. Have more time to read.

7. Never have a period again, but not have to go through menopause to get there.

8.Be able to rewind some parts of life to review them again (first meeting with hubby, first moments holding babies, ... this could turn out to be another whole post).

9. Get lots more music for my iPod.

10. Get a weekly (hell, I'd settle for monthly!) massage.

11. Get novel published.

12. Learn to cook really healthy, good foods and not get stressed out in the kitchen.

13. Cancel number 12... Instead, hire a personal chef to cook for me every single day.

14. Never have to be bothered with shaving hair from ANY part of my body, or plucking or trimming or anything.

15. Be able to eat anything without gaining weight or feeling crappy.

16. Have more time to dedicate to a workout program, do more yoga, continue to walk four miles a day (this week has been a bust).

17. Go on more beach vacations.

18. Appreciate it more when the kids just want me to snuggle and cuddle with them, because I'm realizing already that their desire is waning.

19. Be a better wife, mother, friend, sister, aunt, cousin, daughter, writer, cooker, sleeper, vacationer, exerciser... hell, I could have just made this one my one post.

20. OK, this will be the last one so I better make it good. Hmm... let's see... What is one thing I really want to do? One thing that will change my life, make me a better person, make others better for the good that I do... Hmmm... really, it's coming to me, it really is. I wonder if I should say something about God... the one thing I really want to do is... go get a "Gotta Love It" sized cake batter ice cream with caramel, hot fudge and brownies mixed into it from Cold Stone Creamery.

How about you? What do you want to do?

Let's Play A Game--

List Five Things You've Never Done (doesn't matter if they are things you want to do, or have no desire to do)... Make it fun. I'm thinking of my list...

Worse Than The First Two Months with a Newborn

No. Sleep. For. Me.
Must. Finish. Novel...
Must. Have. Frappy...

I am more tired than those early days of caring for a newborn, and my house is just as messy as it is when you bring home a newborn. There are dishes piling up, loads of laundry that are actually starting to make the hallway smell, toys and papers and markers and shoes strewn (don't you like that word?) all over the house.

My kids have been living off Cookie Crisp and Coco Puffs, and even the littlest one is resorting to foul language (see previous post). I haven't exercised since Saturday and I'm feeling the effect of it -- like all the energy has been sucked out of my body. But hopefully it's being transported into the pages of said novel.

I haven't had a normal conversation with Husband in... well, that's got nothing to do with trying to finish my novel... ha!

Anyway, I'm tying up the edges, and man, there certainly are a lot of edges that need to be tied.

Family Dinner Conversation

This Is Another True Story:

Dinner tonight: Diva eating a bowl of Cookie Crisps, and Tukey and Ajers were splitting a grilled cheese panini.

Their Conversation:

Diva: "When you were at J's house, did you watch Hooker Man again?"

Ajers and Mom: "Bwaah Haaa! It's not Hooker Man, it's Anchor Man!"

Ajers: "You know, that movie should be rated R because it has the F-word in it."

Diva: "I don't even know what the F-word is. I just say 'F-Word'."

Everybody is quiet for a moment.

Ajers: "I know what it is!"

Me: "Well, we never say it, and we never discuss it outside of our home, okay guys!"

Diva: "I still don't know what it is. But Ajers says it rhymes with Duck."

Three-year-old Tukey: "Fuck."

Do you know how hard it is to not bust out laughing at a three-year-old saying the F-word? Very, very hard. And you know, if they catch you laughing, you're fucked.

Dream Defenses

Is there a word / name for that feeling you get when you're having a dream and the bad part is about to happen so your body psychologically tells itself to "WAKE UP BECAUSE THE BAD PART IS ABOUT TO HAPPEN!" Does the human body suddenly warm up and go into fight or flight mode at this point in a dream? Because I was having a bad dream last night and when the bad part was going to happen, my body completely gets hot, and it feels like all the blood rushes through each and every vein, and there are like little tiny men jumping up and down inside of each vein and they're yelling at me to wake up so I don't have to dream the bad part!? Maybe these tiny little dream buster men are in kayaks paddling very hard through the streams of my veins, rushing to get to every part of my body to tell it to wake up. That's what I think happens anyway.

Does this happen to everyone, or am I just weird? Wait, don't answer that.

So I was dreaming I was at some place where there was a shark show, kind of like a dolphin show and part of the event was that the shark picks out a person in the audience to eat. So, the shark picked an adult victim, and I don't remember if he ate that victim or not, or even if it was a man or a woman. But then, the shark was supposed to pick out a child victim, and Diva was the only one with me, and I tried to keep her shielded from the view of the shark because I didn't want him to choose her for lunch. And I kept telling myself, "Oh God, he's going to pick her. Not my little girl, please don't pick her!"

And that's at the part where the little kayak guys jumped into their boats inside of my veins and started rushing through each part of my body, from the top of my head to the very ends of my toes I could feel me go all hot and scared. The kayak guys tricked my brain into focusing on the change of temperature of my body, and they woke me up from my bad dream before the really bad part happened.

Thanks Kayak Dream Guys! You saved my Diva.

Something To Ponder

Let me venture to guess that if I were to tell you right now that you should let your tongue fall from the roof of your mouth you might say, "Wow, how did Manic Mom know that my tongue was kind of like stuck onto the roof of my mouth?"

Was I right?

My yoga instructor, during Shavasina (not sure of the spelling, and if I were a really cool Blogger, I would link you to some yoga site that explains Shavasina, but I'm not, and I can't, so I won't), which is the point of the evening where you relax and do nothing, and my personal favorite part of the class...

Anyway, digressing here.

She says, loosen your body, relax, remove your tongue from the roof of your mouth. And every time, I'm like, "How did she know that?"

There is no point to this post, by the way.

Reason #43: "Never Piss Mommy Off"

If he's good to me when he gets older, I can share these pictures with future girlfriends:


SORRY, PHOTOS HAD TO BE REMOVED FROM THIS POST.xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx


OR--
This is what they'll see if he pisses me off

True Story Happened Today

So, I'm at the dentist office today, and it's taking a little longer than expected, and the hygenist is all apologetic, and I tell her, "Hey, no worries--take all the time you need. Want to know what I escaped from?"

My mother
My Father
Their Jack Russell Terrier Dog
My Diva
My Tukey
My Ajers
My Sister
My Niece Who Is crying from splinters
My Nephew

They're ALL in my house, and I'm cheerfully spending time with dental tools shoved in my mouth.

So, that's not the true story part. Well, that is true, but not the story I wanted to tell. This is:

I'm at the dentist and I've met him once, when I took the kids in last month. I'm lying in the chair, completely reclined, with a nice chenille blankie over me because Tammy, the very nice assistant had asked if I was cold and if I wanted a blanket. Who the heck am I to turn down an opportunity to get pampered and all cozied up? And let me tell you, Tammy tucked me in, putting the blankie on me and tucking under the ends so I was really nice and warm. Cozy time at the dentist.

But anyway, that's not the part I wanted to tell you about.

Cozy and reclined, the hygenist is working on me, and the dentist stops in to do his exam (I swear dentists are like OBs and the hygenists are the labor nurses--they do all the hard work and then the doctor/dentist comes in, does the final check and gets all the accolades--nice big word, huh? Did I mention I was a journalism major?)...

Still not the main part of the story though...

Dentist comes in. I remind him I met him when I had the kids in last month. We're chatting, we know some of the same people (my neighbors recommended him, and rightfully so--very nice man).

So, I'm reclined (did I tell you that already?) he checks the teeth (gives me a nice compliment saying I have very nice teeth and did I ever have any orthodontist work, which I haven't)...

Did I lose you all yet???

Then he says, "Well, please forgive me in advance because if I ever run into you and can't remember your name, don't take it personally..."

I realize he's got a ton of patients and he's just formally met me while lying horizontal with a blanket covering 95 percent of me.

So, he's apologizing in advance because I've left such an impression on him there's no way he's going to remember me. Until I offer him this gem:

"Oh, don't worry about not being able to remember me. My gynecologist said the same thing to me!"

What's With It Today?

So just now, Tukey comes in and pushes his finger in my face.
"Mom, wook what I got for you."
What is it? National Give-A-Mom-A-Booger Day?

Only A Mom

Me: "AJ, what is that on your face? It looks like a booger."

He goes to wipe at it, and I yell, "Don't! And don't eat it!" (Which, sadly, is what he used to do, and while it is a disgusting childish habit, it sure beat the hell out of finding them on the walls and the floor.)

So, I swipe at his face, grab the booger and say, "Ugh, AJ, that is the most disgusting booger in the entire world!"

Ajers: "Trust me mom, there's been bigger ones."

My New Favorite Men

Ben And Jerry. And I don't mean Affleck and Seinfeld (although I would probably give up the ice cream men if I could lie in bed with Affleck while watching reruns of Seinfeld, and have Affleck massaging me while eating a bowl of Ben & Jerry's). Hmmm... now there's a thought.

Anyway, this is how sad I am right now. I wanted to describe to you the ice cream delicacy I am eating (and, let me say it's only 9:42 in the a.m.) so I brought the two pints into my office so I can describe them appropriately.

One is Ben & Jerry's Body and Soul, half baked, which is described as: chocolate and vanilla ice cream with fudge brownies & chocolate chip cookie dough. This is also the low fat version (25% less fat, sugar and calories, which means there's only a 750,000 calories instead of 1,000,000--I don't think I did that math right, but if you read my earlier post this a.m., I don't do well in math.)

The other flavor has me digging straight through the middle of the pint. It's Karamel Sutra with a Caramel Core! "A core of soft caramel encircled by chocolate and caramel ice creams and fudge chips."

If I could send some over the Internet for you to share, you know I would! Oops, got some on the keyboard. Excuse me while I lick it up!

New Math

Husband equals Ass equals Hole

Almost All Better Now

The Ice Machine Is Fixed; The Diva Got A Doc Appointment, Confirmed Ear Infection; Has Amoxicillan Now; Got my Frappy This A.M.; Went For a Serious Power Walk; Hub Took Boys Away For A While; Diva And I Took A Snooze; Period's Still Here.

All In All, Things Are Better Now! Thanks For Being Concerned, To My Real And Cyber Pals

Well...

Period, Right Smack In The Middle Of The Night.
Who The Hell Gets Period In Middle Of The Night?

Broken Ice Machine Leaking Water All Over Hardwood Floors While Manic One Almost Leaks All Over Bedsheets.

Screaming, Crying, Drama Diva Who Most Definitely Has Ear Infection Keeps Mom Up All Night While Ice Machine Leaks Quietly In The Dark Shadows Of Kitchen.

Finally Sleep. Only To Be Woken By Hubby Screaming He Needs My Help (You'd Think Tsunami Hit Kitchen The Way He Dramatized Situation).

Tukey Just Descending Stairs, Falling Traumatically To Floor, As I Await Crabby Mood, Or Crying, Or Yelling, Or Something That Will Further Push Me Over Crumbling Edge Of My Day.

You Do The Math.

In Desperate Need Of Frappy. Crappy Saturday!

STILL in a mood.

I haven't showered today, have a broken ice machine (a travesty in our family, fo shizzle---BTW, how many of you know what FO SHIZZLE means, or is it just my rap-star-wanna-be friend Conna?), anyway, broken ice machine, smelly armpits, ratted out hair, still riding the waves of the PMS symptoms, and it doesn't look like I'm coming down anytime soon.

I've tried everything from chocolate, to exercise, to yoga breathing, and nothing is ridding me of this crabbiness.

Next up, a bottle of Chardonnay on the deck with husband. We'll see if that does the trick.

I've Cracked the Code

Today--devouring handfuls of Toll House Chocolate Chips.
June 4 entry. May 4 entry. April 5 entry. And take a look at the Titles of each entry. They are all revolving around either CRABBY, PMS, I'M A BITCH, etc.
It's ALL coming together now. I've decoded the pattern.

Why?

Why am I staring at this computer, waiting for something to happen?
Why am I crabby today?
Why is Tukey a miserable mess?
Why is laundry the never-ending chore that seems to multiply and grow daily?
Why am I doing this when there are a million things that could be done?
Why am I thinking of statements/questions that I can wonder about that start with Why?
Why am I so tired?
Why would I love more than anything right now a Gotta Love It Cold Stone Creamery cake batter ice cream with brownies, caramel and fudge mixed in, and after eating that, to take a long, long nap?
Why when I say "a long, long nap" I think to myself, "Yeah, as long as it takes for school to start up again."?
Why is it that there's more work stuff to do in the summertime?
Why is it so difficult to keep my kids entertained?
Why is it so difficult to keep my house in a semi-clean state?
Why am I sitting here thinking of these things?
Why, why, why?
What do you wonder about if you were to just sit and stare at the blank screen?
Why are my wonderments so boring?
Why can't it be 9 p.m. so I can go to bed?
Why is it that every other second I have to pour another glass of pink lemonade?
Why is it that I am positive all the glasses with pink lemonade remnants will remain on the counter and I will have to put them away?
Why am I crabby?

Dukes of Hazzard

Remember that show? Well, I just re-enacted one of the many scenes in the show. The ones where the Dukes are being chased by that fat deputy or whoever he was, and so the guys are speeding away from them in that red car of theirs, with Daisy Duke in the backseat yelling, "Yeee-hah!" as they soar over dirt hills, barricades, and swerve other such Dukes of Hazzardy obstacles.

Well, it was kind of like that, but without the fat cop, the Dukes driving, and the chick in the back seat yelling, "Yeee-hah!"

Instead, there were my three kids in the back seats, my brother in the front seat, whom I had just picked up from O'Hare International. I have an I-Pass, which is one of those things that allow you to just go through the toll booths. I see the lane marked I-Pass and continue cruising through, at a fairly normal speed (you know the ones that tell you to slow to 30 as you go through).

I thought I was in the "keep-traveling-at-a-safe-speed, but-no-need-to-make-a-complete-stop" lane. I was wrong.

Before I could brake, I noticed the orange bar at the toll booth that goes up once you put your money into the toll-money-thingamagig, but not before I realized I would be crashing directly into it, possibly shattering my front windshield, setting off my airbags and causing my children to never get into an automobile with me again.

So, I did what I thought would be the rationale thing to do and swerved just a bit to the right, thinking I could miss the bar, that, as I realized I was driving, was actually, slowly, painfully slowly, beginning to lift up.

I swerved, and managed to run my car up on the concrete whatever-that-thing-is, near the toll booth right next to the one I just went through, at a speed obviously higher than what is supposed to be for a lane that has a bar that must ascend upward as the car goes through.

Fortunately, and I will forever thank God for this one, there was not a humongous 18-wheeler pulling out of the lane next to me, for my tire... kind of, maybe, just a tiny bit, exploded (?) Maybe? and went puhpuhpuhpuhpuhpuhpuh flat. Fast.

And fortunately, and I will forever thank God for this one, my young brother was there to guide me over to the shoulder, and fortunately, (again thanking God) since we were just pulling out of the toll booth, there was not a ton of traffic whizzing by at that section of 294-South. And, go ahead, say it with me, "Fortunately, and I will forever thank God for this one," my brother knew where the spare tire is kept in a minivan, and has had the good fortune to have had to change a tire before. Otherwise, I would still be stuck on that shoulder at 294, probably bawling my head off all the while trying to keep my children from doing the same.

And, lastly, fortunately, ... I have a very, very dear friend who runs a Firestone, and we were home by 11:30 a.m., complete with a brand-new tire on my front right side of the car. (Sidenote--we just had four brand-new tires put on the minivan less than two months ago, and another sidenote--you are finding out all about my little Dukes of Hazzard's adventure before dear Hubby even knows. And the only way he'll find out before I figure out a sweet and somber way to give him the news, is if he reads my Blog prior to coming home from work, or if he checks the MasterCard charges online and sees I've just spent $100 at Firestone.

And, in keeping with the "I-should-win-an-award-for-being-the-best-damned-mom-in-the-world" theme, I am now letting my children play outside in their swimsuits in the pouring rain. I hope there's no lightning.

"Yeeee-hah!"

Red Door

So, we're home from vaca, and there's the usual catching up to do -- laundry, emails, etc. Actually, the kids are playing rather nicely, and it's quiet. Then, comes the fashion show. Apparently, my two little boys are enjoying dressing as girls and come down to display their sister's dresses, which they are both wearing. Ajers models a lovely cotton pink and white tank dress and gives me a big smooch asking if I notice anything?

He's wearing lipstick. Should I be scared?

There are a few more clothing changes, a photo shoot, which perhaps I will torture them and post a couple pictures. Tukey does look adorable in Diva's pink tulle ballerina outfit, and he does a couple pirouts (however you spell it) for me.

I sniff. Not because he is so adorable that I cry. It's because I smell something.

"Are you wearing perfume?" I ask him.

Proudly: "Yep."

Me: "Boys don't wear perfume, only girls."

Tuke (defiantly): "Nuh-uh, boys could weah it too."

I sniff again. It's my mom's Red Door scent, the kind she left behind for Diva. He smells like a whorehouse. At least what I imagine a whorehouse would smell like, as I've actually never been inside one.

Me: "My God, how much did you put on!?!?"

Tukey's reply: "Plenty."

No kidding.