As I round the corner and enter the home stretch to the big 4-0 (yes I know I am a drama queen and I am also aware I have 2 1/2 years left but bear with me!) I have noticed several signs of the aging process. Most of them are managable and easily remedied.
For example, I had to break down and start coloring my hair this past year to cover up all the grays. I swear though that now that I have started to color my hair it is REALLY pissed off and decidedly accelerating the process of making me into that white-haired psycho I've always dreamed of being. Honestly, when my roots start showing I notice about 50% more gray than the last time I colored.
Another wonderful indicator that I'm gettin' up there are those fun little hairs on my chinny chin chin. Again, an easy fix with a tweezer, though I am starting to consider having them lasered. It used to be a once in awhile plucking event, but it seems like they grow back fast and furious and are starting to bring friends. So it's either they get zapped or I borrow Mark's razor. You do the math.
Also, besides the chin plucking, now I am growing these totally awesome sideburns down my cheeks. Again, a good pair of tweezers and a decent magnetic mirror really do the trick. Eventually though I just won't be able to keep up and I might just shape them into lambchops. Stylish, don't you think?
My favorite thing about getting older, as if the other items on the list aren't awesome enough, is that this year I was finally prescribed bifocals. Yep, I am THAT blind that not only is it difficult to read road signs but I am unable to properly decipher the alcohol percent by volume on the wine labels at Trader Joes without a pair of nerd goggles.
But this morning in the shower tops my list of the greatest things to ever happen in the process of becoming an old fart. And speaking of farts, here's the scoop: I felt the urge to toot, mostly because I'd had a cup of coffee and you know it's just a warning sign of things to come. So I went ahead and let-er-rip and you know what happened? NO, silly, I didn't SHART (shit-fart combo if you don't know what a shart is), I PEED a little.
When the hell did I start losing control of my fricken bladder? Anyone know where to get coupons for those little panty liners for impromptu peeing? I gotta get me some. And this one bothers me most of all as it cannot be cured with tweezers, hair dye or bifocals. There's no pill to fix your peepee. You just gotta wear Depends, or my personal favorite "Oops, I Crapped My Pants" brand undergarments. (thanks SNL, you're the best!)
Friday, June 25, 2010
Thursday, June 24, 2010
You weren't there
This post is for you, Anonymous, and anyone else who would question the love a mother has for her children. If you are looking for a laugh today, this isn't going to be it, and I apologize, but I write for fun, for therapy and because sometimes I think that my experiences are easy to relate to by anyone, male or female, mom or dad, working or at home. At the end of the day, if I can look in the mirror and believe that I have done my best to be wife, mother and shaper of my children and their future, that's all that really matters.
Dear Anonymous,
You weren't there every night since the birth of my children when I check on them before I go to sleep. Every night. I kiss their sweet little sweaty noggins, whisper in their tiny ears how much I love them and to have sweet dreams and how much I'll miss them all night long.
You weren't there every night I got up with one of my sweet babies because they were sick, having a bad dream or just wanting another kiss, hug or snuggle. You weren't there to see me fall asleep with a smile on my face snuggling with one of my beautiful children because I heard them call for mommy and I was there.
You weren't there every night that I missed them traveling for work, feeling guilty because I wasn't home for them. You weren't with me on the plane when I sobbed because I wasn't able to bring home the breast milk I pumped 4-5 times a day while on a business trip, knowing that it was all for nothing and I couldn't give it to my sweet baby boy who didn't deserve to miss out on nourishment from me.
You weren't there when I cried and cried in therapy over of years of guilt built up because I wasn't home with my children every day. You weren't there when I started taking antidepressants because I was so despondent about not being a good wife and mother that I thought driving off the long bridge in my car was a better option for my family.
You weren't there every time I dropped my children off at daycare 5 days a week and felt an overwhelming sense of loss because I missed out on their day. And you weren't there when I picked them up and hugged and kissed them like I had been away from them for months.
You weren't there my first week on the job as a stay at home mom to see how much of a failure I felt like because I realized that I didn't have the skills to do the job. Do you know what that feels like? To realize that the one thing you've wanted since you gave birth to your children is the hardest, most difficult and stressful job you will ever have?
Do you know how much guilt and frustration I feel because I have been a working mother for years and have missed out on so many important moments in the lives of the most wonderful children God has ever created and now that I have the opportunity to be with them for a few months I realize that I do not have the first clue how to make it? And the only outlet I have is this blog, my humor and the hope that I am not the only one who feels this way.
You weren't there for any of this, and you never will be. But I hope that you, and anyone else out there who thinks I am a sympathy mongering unappreciative stay at home mom, can understand that when I feel like I've failed, and for me this is a daily occurence, I use humor to deflect and to put my mind at ease.
It's a hell of a lot easier to laugh about things than to let them eat you alive until all you can think about is how you can put your car in front of a semi so that your children and your husband can be better off without you.
Dear Anonymous,
You weren't there every night since the birth of my children when I check on them before I go to sleep. Every night. I kiss their sweet little sweaty noggins, whisper in their tiny ears how much I love them and to have sweet dreams and how much I'll miss them all night long.
You weren't there every night I got up with one of my sweet babies because they were sick, having a bad dream or just wanting another kiss, hug or snuggle. You weren't there to see me fall asleep with a smile on my face snuggling with one of my beautiful children because I heard them call for mommy and I was there.
You weren't there every night that I missed them traveling for work, feeling guilty because I wasn't home for them. You weren't with me on the plane when I sobbed because I wasn't able to bring home the breast milk I pumped 4-5 times a day while on a business trip, knowing that it was all for nothing and I couldn't give it to my sweet baby boy who didn't deserve to miss out on nourishment from me.
You weren't there when I cried and cried in therapy over of years of guilt built up because I wasn't home with my children every day. You weren't there when I started taking antidepressants because I was so despondent about not being a good wife and mother that I thought driving off the long bridge in my car was a better option for my family.
You weren't there every time I dropped my children off at daycare 5 days a week and felt an overwhelming sense of loss because I missed out on their day. And you weren't there when I picked them up and hugged and kissed them like I had been away from them for months.
You weren't there my first week on the job as a stay at home mom to see how much of a failure I felt like because I realized that I didn't have the skills to do the job. Do you know what that feels like? To realize that the one thing you've wanted since you gave birth to your children is the hardest, most difficult and stressful job you will ever have?
Do you know how much guilt and frustration I feel because I have been a working mother for years and have missed out on so many important moments in the lives of the most wonderful children God has ever created and now that I have the opportunity to be with them for a few months I realize that I do not have the first clue how to make it? And the only outlet I have is this blog, my humor and the hope that I am not the only one who feels this way.
You weren't there for any of this, and you never will be. But I hope that you, and anyone else out there who thinks I am a sympathy mongering unappreciative stay at home mom, can understand that when I feel like I've failed, and for me this is a daily occurence, I use humor to deflect and to put my mind at ease.
It's a hell of a lot easier to laugh about things than to let them eat you alive until all you can think about is how you can put your car in front of a semi so that your children and your husband can be better off without you.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
I don't get paid enough for this job
As I walked through Winco foods yesterday with my children who have never, ever behaved worse in the store than they did yesterday (see this post about the time they tipped a grocery cart over so you can get a feel for how horrible they were: http://blissandchaos.blogspot.com/2009/09/children-for-sale-two-for-one-special.html) I thought to myself, "I do NOT get paid enough for this job."
And no, of course I make no money as a housewife, and never having had the prestigious opportunity to stay home with my children it has been quite an adjustment for me, and apparently the kids as well. But really, is it too much to ask?
$5 for every time they got out of the cart and ran around it, getting in the way of several non-English speaking shoppers who, thankfully, did not understand the swear words coming out of my mouth.
$10 for every look of sympathy I got from the sweet old man Kaylee cut off while selecting our shopping cart for the day. I saw him over and over again and he just LOOKED like he felt sorry for me.
$25 for every time I pinched the kids for their misbehavior (it sure as hell beats being one of "those" mothers in the store who actually spanks her kids)
$50 for THIS button in the bathroom, at EYE level to my children, and note Kaylee CAN read:
If my math is correct, that would be about $315, which more than covers the cost of my $100 grocery bill, but the leftovers, well, not nearly enough to compensate me for my humiliation. One hour and 5 minutes of sheer terror, frustration and complete and utter senseless behavior from my children. I am never EVER taking them shopping again.
Have I said that before?
And in case you think I am overexaggerating my experiences, here's the evidence to prove that I am not. This is my recycle basket:
And in case you think I am overexaggerating my experiences, here's the evidence to prove that I am not. This is my recycle basket:
I sooooo need a job.
Friday, June 11, 2010
Guess what I got in the mail?????
The following video is of my field sobriety test as reference in the post below: http://blissandchaos.blogspot.com/2010/03/friday-night-lights.html (click to review)
You kind of have to read the post before you watch this so you understand fully what happened. It does help to have friends at the police station who can send you these things, but also so they can tell you the reason WHY they actually did the test on me:
The car smelled SO BAD, and I mean like A LOT OF ALCOHOL because of my drunk-ass husband that officer Giese had to be 100% sure that I wasn't also drinking. All he could smell was stale booze and cigarettes (and a lot of it) so I had the privelege of proving in public that I was completely sober.
Thanks Mark, and thanks to SPD for keeping our streets safe.
NOTE: The video is long and you can skip ahead to the test but watch the beginning. The officer saw me coming with a head light out, pulled over to wait for me to turn, then followed for a nanosecond before flipping his lights on. I didn't stand a chance.
And Mark STILL hasn't made up for this! Huh. Enjoy the view:
http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1294683160#!/video/video.php?v=1490705709666&ref=mf
You kind of have to read the post before you watch this so you understand fully what happened. It does help to have friends at the police station who can send you these things, but also so they can tell you the reason WHY they actually did the test on me:
The car smelled SO BAD, and I mean like A LOT OF ALCOHOL because of my drunk-ass husband that officer Giese had to be 100% sure that I wasn't also drinking. All he could smell was stale booze and cigarettes (and a lot of it) so I had the privelege of proving in public that I was completely sober.
Thanks Mark, and thanks to SPD for keeping our streets safe.
NOTE: The video is long and you can skip ahead to the test but watch the beginning. The officer saw me coming with a head light out, pulled over to wait for me to turn, then followed for a nanosecond before flipping his lights on. I didn't stand a chance.
And Mark STILL hasn't made up for this! Huh. Enjoy the view:
http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1294683160#!/video/video.php?v=1490705709666&ref=mf
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Things I wonder about my children
Why do I have to repeat myself 8,000 times? I understand in marketing you have to make a lot of impressions before people take note, but really when I'm screaming don't cross the street there's a car coming, well you'd think they might take notice.
Why do they seem to argue over the dumbest shit like they're Heidi & Spencer Pratt? Legos, race tracks, barbie books, etc.
Do they really not understand that orange and purple or stripes and polka dots go together like Tiger Woods and being faithful? The crap these kids pick out to wear is unblievable (and slightly embarassing)!
What possible reason do they have to be awake before 7 am? What possible reason does ANYONE have to be awake before 7am???
How can they possibly think that telling me NO is a good idea? Or do they just WANT me to lock them in their rooms. Oh yes, I did.
Who in their right mind would ever jump from the couch to the chair to the other couch back to the chair over the end table and NOT expect to injure themselves?
How is it possible that they have developed such a well timed sense of comedic timing? EX: for the 8,000 time I ask Brady if he's brushed his teeth and he finally answers "affirmative". The kid iss FOUR years old. Oh, and he thought to explain to me what the definition is: "that means YES mom". Oh gee, thanks.
Why do they look so sweet and adorable when they're sleeping? I know all they're doing is dreaming up how they can make me completely crazy tomorrow. Dang them!
Why do they seem to argue over the dumbest shit like they're Heidi & Spencer Pratt? Legos, race tracks, barbie books, etc.
Do they really not understand that orange and purple or stripes and polka dots go together like Tiger Woods and being faithful? The crap these kids pick out to wear is unblievable (and slightly embarassing)!
What possible reason do they have to be awake before 7 am? What possible reason does ANYONE have to be awake before 7am???
How can they possibly think that telling me NO is a good idea? Or do they just WANT me to lock them in their rooms. Oh yes, I did.
Who in their right mind would ever jump from the couch to the chair to the other couch back to the chair over the end table and NOT expect to injure themselves?
How is it possible that they have developed such a well timed sense of comedic timing? EX: for the 8,000 time I ask Brady if he's brushed his teeth and he finally answers "affirmative". The kid iss FOUR years old. Oh, and he thought to explain to me what the definition is: "that means YES mom". Oh gee, thanks.
Why do they look so sweet and adorable when they're sleeping? I know all they're doing is dreaming up how they can make me completely crazy tomorrow. Dang them!
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Why I don't like renting a house
At first glance it appeared that renting a home would have lots of advantages for us, for example if anything goes haywire like a leaking window or a flooding garage for example, well help is just a phone call away, and not on our dime. What the hell was I thinking?
I knew the house we are renting wasn't in perfect condition, but assumed that it was somewhat well maintained and that there would be few, if any, repairs needed. O.M.G. Where do I start?
People kept telling me how much it rains in Portland and blah blah and I knew it did, so I am not complaining about the rain in this post. What I AM complaining about are the plants, yes actual LIVE FREAKING PLANTS growing out of the gutters on the house. The same gutter-plant combination that creates a stream of water that runs through our garage when there's a torrential downpour, which is of late an hourly occurrence.
We still have boxes in the garage, shame I know, but we do. So I called the property mgt company to tell them about the river of water and they recommended we use towels to shore up the water until they could have someone clean the gutters in the next two days. Yeah, that was SUNDAY, today is WEDNESDAY, and shockingly there's been no gutter cleaning. Poor Marky cleaned out a downspout to help and I think he was dry heaving the whole time looking at 15 years worth of shit in there.
But, alas, I am ever so greatful for the rain so I don't have to worry about watering the plants in the gutters though, as I am quite sure they would die if they had to rely on my gardening talents.
Speaking of the rain, there was a nifty little drip of water coming from the top of the window in the dining room, as noted on day 2 of our occupation of the "money pit" (if someone actually ever bought this house it would be better to just knock it down and start over, seriously).
It was nearly two weeks before the guy came out to check on it, thankfully he did take care of it, but if I were the owner of the home I would be PISSED. Think about the mold/mildew/moss issues.
And, holy crap moss grows here like mad, I'm afraid I need to dry the kids off every hour or so lest moss start growing on them too! You just don't want to stay in one place too long around here.
Oh, and the other WONDERFUl discovery I made today while walking around some nature trails: giant, slimy, mutant snails. Blech. I think I peed a little when trying to avoid a half dozen of them or so while I ran, kids trailing behind me thinking I was going to leave them (and if they couldn't keep up, well too bad) ALL THE WAY HOME to the comfort of my dry garage. Oh, wait, the downpour started and yep, you guessed it, more water.
I knew the house we are renting wasn't in perfect condition, but assumed that it was somewhat well maintained and that there would be few, if any, repairs needed. O.M.G. Where do I start?
People kept telling me how much it rains in Portland and blah blah and I knew it did, so I am not complaining about the rain in this post. What I AM complaining about are the plants, yes actual LIVE FREAKING PLANTS growing out of the gutters on the house. The same gutter-plant combination that creates a stream of water that runs through our garage when there's a torrential downpour, which is of late an hourly occurrence.
We still have boxes in the garage, shame I know, but we do. So I called the property mgt company to tell them about the river of water and they recommended we use towels to shore up the water until they could have someone clean the gutters in the next two days. Yeah, that was SUNDAY, today is WEDNESDAY, and shockingly there's been no gutter cleaning. Poor Marky cleaned out a downspout to help and I think he was dry heaving the whole time looking at 15 years worth of shit in there.
But, alas, I am ever so greatful for the rain so I don't have to worry about watering the plants in the gutters though, as I am quite sure they would die if they had to rely on my gardening talents.
Speaking of the rain, there was a nifty little drip of water coming from the top of the window in the dining room, as noted on day 2 of our occupation of the "money pit" (if someone actually ever bought this house it would be better to just knock it down and start over, seriously).
It was nearly two weeks before the guy came out to check on it, thankfully he did take care of it, but if I were the owner of the home I would be PISSED. Think about the mold/mildew/moss issues.
And, holy crap moss grows here like mad, I'm afraid I need to dry the kids off every hour or so lest moss start growing on them too! You just don't want to stay in one place too long around here.
Oh, and the other WONDERFUl discovery I made today while walking around some nature trails: giant, slimy, mutant snails. Blech. I think I peed a little when trying to avoid a half dozen of them or so while I ran, kids trailing behind me thinking I was going to leave them (and if they couldn't keep up, well too bad) ALL THE WAY HOME to the comfort of my dry garage. Oh, wait, the downpour started and yep, you guessed it, more water.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Internet, AT LAST!
My sincere apologies to the few, the proud, the Bliss and Chaos followers (pretty sure mostly just my relatives so you have to forgive me anyway), but we finally and I mean FINALLY got Internet access late last Friday. Before I dive into the topic of the day, here's a little recap of what has been going on:
Mark was offered a job at Nike in Beaverton, we moved, I left my full time job and am now, officially, an alcoholic stay at home mommy with a part time contracting job administering a grant. We have been here for two weeks and have discovered the zoo, Winco foods and the fact that the reason my children rarely fought before was because they weren't around each other very much.
Now that we're here, and have been trapped in our house for two weeks while watching a monsoon outside, I have come to realize that siblings aren't meant to be together 24/7. They are genetically programmed to fight, as previously discussed, but they are also pre-programmed to kick the hell out of each other on a regular schedule, about every ten minutes of the day.
If their little spider senses kick in and they realize that I am not watching their every move (seriously I have shit to do like laundry & clean kids!) they automatically start kicking, scratching, biting, shoving, pushing and otherwise tormenting each other. Which, in turn, causes me to step in, blow the whistle and BAM! They have my attention once again. Lather, rinse, repeat.
But, I digress. The topic of the day is my newly found and disturbingly detailed obsession with finding a lightweight, handheld vacuum that can easily be transported up and down the stairs in our rental house. Our current vacuum is a tank and while I've attempted, albeit quite unsuccessfully, to suction our stairs, it has become glaringly apparent that unless I can eventually bench twice my own weight, I need something SPECIFIC to clean the stairs.
And I am slightly concerned with my voracious research on the topic and seemingly natural inclination to turn up my nose at anything "rechargeable" or "bagless" God forbid I try these new-fangled contraptions. I am wholly obsessed with finding a lightweight handheld portable vacuum WITH bags AND a cord and am actually getting frustrated because I can't find "just what I am looking for".
This disturbs me in ways you cannot imagine. For a woman who up until two weeks ago mostly microwaved food and ate standing up, who barely gave the vacuum a second glance (and only accidentally discovered that you actually NEED to change vacuum bags on occasion) I have become the woman who has dinner on the table, AT THE TABLE, sitting down and with napkins no less and am utterly and completely fixated on cleanliness. What the hell?
Stay tuned for the next episode of Amy: OCD alcoholic, chef, maid and multi-tasking extraordinaire. It only gets more interesting...
Mark was offered a job at Nike in Beaverton, we moved, I left my full time job and am now, officially, an alcoholic stay at home mommy with a part time contracting job administering a grant. We have been here for two weeks and have discovered the zoo, Winco foods and the fact that the reason my children rarely fought before was because they weren't around each other very much.
Now that we're here, and have been trapped in our house for two weeks while watching a monsoon outside, I have come to realize that siblings aren't meant to be together 24/7. They are genetically programmed to fight, as previously discussed, but they are also pre-programmed to kick the hell out of each other on a regular schedule, about every ten minutes of the day.
If their little spider senses kick in and they realize that I am not watching their every move (seriously I have shit to do like laundry & clean kids!) they automatically start kicking, scratching, biting, shoving, pushing and otherwise tormenting each other. Which, in turn, causes me to step in, blow the whistle and BAM! They have my attention once again. Lather, rinse, repeat.
But, I digress. The topic of the day is my newly found and disturbingly detailed obsession with finding a lightweight, handheld vacuum that can easily be transported up and down the stairs in our rental house. Our current vacuum is a tank and while I've attempted, albeit quite unsuccessfully, to suction our stairs, it has become glaringly apparent that unless I can eventually bench twice my own weight, I need something SPECIFIC to clean the stairs.
And I am slightly concerned with my voracious research on the topic and seemingly natural inclination to turn up my nose at anything "rechargeable" or "bagless" God forbid I try these new-fangled contraptions. I am wholly obsessed with finding a lightweight handheld portable vacuum WITH bags AND a cord and am actually getting frustrated because I can't find "just what I am looking for".
This disturbs me in ways you cannot imagine. For a woman who up until two weeks ago mostly microwaved food and ate standing up, who barely gave the vacuum a second glance (and only accidentally discovered that you actually NEED to change vacuum bags on occasion) I have become the woman who has dinner on the table, AT THE TABLE, sitting down and with napkins no less and am utterly and completely fixated on cleanliness. What the hell?
Stay tuned for the next episode of Amy: OCD alcoholic, chef, maid and multi-tasking extraordinaire. It only gets more interesting...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)