Schick Quatro

My 6 year old drew this picture. It is me. I had no idea my 5 o'clock shadow was so prominent. Then again, I don't walk around staring into a mirror all day to monitor it so how would I know? I'm also hittin' the bottle around 5 o'clock so my vision is slightly skewed.

Look, I'm not going to lie to you... I have chin hairs ok? Apparently it's hereditary. And surprisingly enough I didn't inherit it from my Italian side. Although that probably didn't help matters very much.
But honestly? I don't have THAT many. Sure I have some, and sure sometimes (ok all the time) it looks like I have tiny blackheads all over my chin. But come on, a mustache too?? This kid pays way too close attention for my comfort levels.

monday

~Sorry, I couldn't think of a better title for this post.~
Just an update: had guests this weekend so that's why the lack of posts.

Did "chores" with my husband today. it mainly consisted of me sitting around his office courtyard watching him do stuff. Oh, I helped him plant a tree, then watched him plant the other two.  Very hard work. I did ride my bike in circles in the parking lot. I might have broken a sweat. Don't be a hater. You don't need to be jealous of me because i'm having the holiday weekend of a lifetime. Just suck it up. All good things come to those who wait.

We will be watching the History Channel on Netlix to celebrate today,
Memorial Day. Oh and I'll be drinking. How else would it be a
"celebrating"?

Looking forward to tomorrow for two reasons:

1) my daughters last day of preschool

• It is bad because, well, it is the LAST day of school. Meaning no more school. No more quiet Tuesdays and Thursdays
• It is good because that's $$$ back in my pocket. And I like $$$ in my pocket. It pads my ass. 

<~~~~~~~ Like so

2) I have the CUTEST thing EVAH that i'm doing for her class. I can't wait to brag share it with you. I've been known to get crafty and creative from time to time. 

So there you have it. Just trying to drink my way through Monday so I can get to Tuesday. 

Look how easy i'm making it for you to VOTE.

   

Lookin' for a good read?

I love reading Lola. She's hilarious. She doesn't get enough credit. (actually, maybe she does. How would I know?) Unfortunately she has her voting button AT THE BOTTOM OF HER PAGE. Silly Lola. She can be hard to find. She needs to be higher ranking than me! She's THAT funny. She is absolutely fearless in her writing. She isn't afraid to "go there". And she might even make you pee in your pants a little. Or she might totally offend you. (Which is one of the reasons she's so funny. In my opinion)

So here she is. check her out. give her some love. vote for her even! if you can find her voting button.... at the bottom of the page.

Here's  a post that had me rolling. Dairy Queen Walk of Shame.
Your welcome dear reader.

Word of the Day

TASTY

[tey-stee]

-adj

1) having a pleasant flavor. This cosmo sure is tasty, I can't even taste the alcohol!
2) attractive. John Hamm is so tasty.

*side note- if you look at the word "tasty" and repeat it enough times... you begin to think it should be pronounced "tasss-tee", and then it sounds dirty.
**double side note- does this picture make him look like Hugh Jackman? They could be brothers right? Hot brothers. Maybe hot, ass kicking, advertiser brothers? John would be the cool as a cucumber one, and Hugh would be the rogue brother who is angry about something we don't know yet but we'll find out in the prequel. Hugh wants to use his brawn while John uses his brain and his powers of seduction. Together they fight the forces of big corporations and evil tyrants. No wait, that's the same thing... Anyway they are hot, shirtless (hugh) suited (john) and fight in the name of Good.  Are you listening to this Hollywood?? Movie GOLD. Your welcome.

Have you voted today?

It's as easy as ONE click. 

=)

will blog for votes!!

And......?

The child mentioned a check.........?

The Breakup

Dear Blogger,

We've been together for a little over a year. You were there when I needed to share exciting news, when I needed a shoulder to cry on, and when I needed to brag about my awesome adventures/children/surgeries. So it brings me much pain to have to say this to you.

I think we should break up. It is not me, it is you. You've been very flakey lately, losing my information and forgetting things. I need a blog host who is more dependable, more reliable.

Look, it's not that I don't like you anymore, I do. I just don't think you are meeting my needs anymore. When I told you that it didn't bother me that you wouldn't let me reply to my readers comments.... it was true. But now things are different. I need to connect with my readers on a deeper level. I feel like you are standing in the way. I don't want to be in a controlling relationship.

I'm not going to lie, I've been looking at other hosts. I even bought a domain. It has a gorgeous view. I haven't moved in yet, but I knew the time would be soon at hand that I would need to pack my bags and go.

I'm sure this is not going to be an easy transition. It will be especially hard for me. I know you'll find someone new. Someone who loves you just the way you are. We've just grown apart. I'm sure we'll remain friends. We have many of the same friends so I know I'll see you around, pretty much on a daily basis I'm sure. I don't want there to be any awkwardness. *shake hands*   Thanks for understanding, Blogger.

Your pal,
Lisa

UPDATE:  the new domain will be www.thehomeceomom.com
right now it forwards it to this site.

Word of the Day

Exercise

[ek-ser-sahyz]
noun, verb, -cised, -cis·ing.


noun

1.  bodily or mental exertion, especially for the sake of training or improvement of health:
     Somebody told me that if I exercise I can lose weight, and then I ate another donut.

2.  something done or performed as a means of practice or training:
     exercises for the violin make my ears bleed.

3.  a putting into action, use, operation, or effect:
     I told my children to exercise caution while sharpening my knives.

Miss Pants

So everyday I drive my kid to school I see this mom. It's easy to spot her for 2 reasons.
1) We're always late so there isn't anyone else around.
2) She has the hottest little body ever. We're talking MILF material.

So I dubbed her "Miss Pants" with her perky butt, and thinness, and hotness, and high heels, and blonde hair, and hotness! So naturally I hate her. And it's so unflashy. She doesn't go walking around like she's totally hot, which makes me hate her more. It's so effortless for her! (or so I think. Ignorance is bliss after all) Seriously, you should see the butt on this woman. I would die for that butt.

Anywho....
I saw Miss Pants leaving the school one day as I was coming up to it. I finally stopped her. I had to know if she was a total bitch or not.

Me: "Hi, so ok, I have to tell you something"
MP: "ok?" (probably thinking I'm going to cut a lock of her hair off or something)
Me: "I see you all the time, and I have to tell you that you are totally adorable, and cute, and I love the way you dress. I even gave you a nickname"
MP: "oh my gosh! what's my nickname?"
Me: "Miss Pants. Cuz you prance around, in your pants, making your butt look all cute, with your cute figure and all of this......."  I did the hand motion where I pointed to her head down to her feet.

She got a kick out of this. She laughed, was flattered, and introduced herself. Her real name is not NEARLY as fitting as Miss Pants. So I will keep my pet name for her.
I told her she is my inspiration for getting back in shape and whatever she is doing.... it's definitely working.

I failed, however, to ask her what her secret was. Sacrificial lambs? Eye of newt? The blood of a virgin? Because at this point I'll try anything.

word of the day

head·ache

[hed-eyk] 

–noun
1. a pain located in the head, as over the eyes, at the temples, or at the base of the skull. I have a headache from too much wine last night, I can't go to the gym.

2.  an annoying or bothersome person, situation, activity, etc. My screaming child is such a headache, where's my wine?

3. an excuse made to get out of sex. Not tonight honey, I have a headache.

Synonyms:      annoyance, bane, bills, bother, child, dilemma, 

frustration, hassle, hindrance, husband, inconvenience, in-laws,

nuisance, pain in the neck/butt, pest,  predicament, PTA,
quagmire, trouble, vexation, worry.

*le sigh*

Oh dear reader... what to do, what to do. I have myself listed in a mommy blog directory. I put myself under the "humor" category. To be honest, I don't always feel funny. My life isn't always humorous, and sometimes it's a job just getting out of my pajamas, let alone write something witty. The pressure I feel to write funny things is becoming an un-fun task. Considering re-categorizing myself.

Today for example, I have an IEP for my son. I am not looking forward to this.
I have gained 10lbs.
My skin looks like a 15 year high school girl's, covered in pimples.
I've been eating crappy food and thus feel like crap. Any quick fix will cost me hundreds of dollars (hundreds of dollars which I am saving for my next entrepreneurial venture.)

I am in a slump. A full fledged depressed marshmallowy slump. I've already sent out the invitations to my pity party. Please bring 2 bottles of wine, and be sure to RSVP. I need a headcount so I know how long to get the male stripper for. (I accidentally typed "mail" instead of "male"..... that would be AWKWARD, but a little sexy, i'm not gonna lie.)

So please accept my sincerest apologies for not making you laugh till you fart. Although to be honest, I don't think I've ever made anyone to do that. Consider it a goal if you will.

Bare (bear? I knew I should have taken that community college writing course! dammit all!) with me as I work on getting my funny back. Maybe I should just start drinking earlier in the day.....

word of the day

DIFFICULT
[dif-i-kuhlt, -kuhlt] 

–adjective

1.

not easily or readily done; requiring much labor, skill, or  planning to be performed successfully; hard: a difficult time making dinner, checking email, folding laundry and doing bills before husband gets home

2.

hard to understand or solve: a difficult math problem your 1st grader wants you to help with

3.

hard to deal with or get on with: a difficult child who has not napped and is ready for bed

There's a place downtown....

Today nothing blog worthy was happening, so I decided a trip to the grocery store was in order. When we got in the car I had forgotten that I had Ke$ha playing earlier, until it came on and her song "Take It Off" resumed playing. I cranked up the volume and I could see my tiny dancer in the back seat dancing to it. That's my girl. When it was over she asked to listen to it again. HELL YEAH! I freaking love that song.

When we were walking into the store she was singing it. Her lyrics weren't quite right and it was making me crazy. Finally in the produce department I stopped, looked at her and said, 

"The words are- 'there's a place downtown where the freaks all come around, there's a hole in the wall it's a dirty free for all', now you try it"

I look up and there is a mother/daughter combo, staring at me. The daughter, who is about 15, is looking at me with her jaw on the ground, mid text. Her gum almost fell out of her mouth. I shrugged and said "she likes Ke$ha."

I'm teaching my 4 year old lyrics to Ke$ha. How's that for a "parenting don't"?

On the upside, I don't have to listen to her sing it wrong. Which would probably ruin the song for me. I'm so glad I can bond with my daughter over whorish music.

virtual tip jar

Yes, they came out with a virtual tip jar. It's a gadget you put on your blog (for those of us using blogger) and it's a shopping cart. People put in the amount of money they want to send you, and they pay you. or "tip" you rather.

I don't know, putting ads on your site is one thing, but a tip jar? really? Did I bring your order with a friendly smile? Did I clean up after your messy kid? Did I drive you to the airport? Why the hell would someone want to tip a blogger? No I'm serious, why would they? I'm curious.

APRON UPDATE!

AWESOME UPDATE:
NOW WITH VIDEO!!


So I've told you guys how much I love Flirty Aprons.

Well now they have a coupon for 40% off:
40% off any style apron, code MAY40, expires 5/31

This is a picture of my apron:
It was $16.00.
Do you love it? huh? huh???

say what?

It is Sunday night and I drank a lot at my kids bday party. point being- no blog today. Stay tuned tomorrow to hear about the funny shenanigans that happened and excellent booze i discovered. I can't wait to tell yozzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz  zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

An open letter to husbands

Dear Husbands,

I understand that your wife has bore your children. Baked them, birthed them, fed them, raised them.... the process of creating, making and raising a child is a big ordeal. During this process parts of her body have been sacrificed. This is for the good of the children. Without her body nothing else is possible. So in an effort to keep relationships together and couples happy I send out this plea: Get your wife the boobs. Get her the tummy tuck. Get her the botox. She will be happy. Pay the money.

Should you ever divorce, she will get these things anyway.... with your money. Better to spend the money and enjoy it yourself than to spend the money and have every other man enjoy it. (Assuming she becomes a relentless whore. Which obviously she will given how hot you'll pay for her to get and how much of a cheap jerk you were for not giving in)

So men, pony up the cash and put a little spark (debt) into your relationship. You'll both be happier.  Remember: Happy wife, happy life.


*Editors note: this blog post was about men enjoying their money's worth. Not about happiness. While I did write about having a happy wife we all know that there is no such thing. So better a cranky tired wife with high, taut boobs than a cranky tired wife with saggy sad boobs.

Chores or child labor?

I asked my kids to do some chores around the house. My son told me, "mom, I can't do all this work, I'm just a little boy"

First of all, putting your dirty clothes in the hamper and putting your toys away does not constitute as "work". Second of all, your legs are not broken, nor are your arms. There is no reason why you can't do your chores.

Another excuse I hear is "my  legs are tired.... and I'm tired. I just can't do it".
Look, you've got more energy than your father and I COMBINED, so hop to it.

I mean, these are pretty simple tasks I'm asking them to do. It's not like I'm having them sew me jacket, or pick pineapples. Put your toys away, put your clean clothes away, put away your dirty dishes. Basically I'm asking them to clean up after themselves.

Me thinks I'm raising spoiled children. So I've come up with a solution. I'm going to make them scrub the floors, clean the windows, weed the garden, sweep out the garage or sew me a new pair of jeans with a jacket to match. Which makes me think, how many chores can you give your children before you really are breaking some sort of child labor laws? Meh, who cares. As long as the place gets clean right? You just don't want them starting some sort of conspiracy to rat you out to the authorities.

One day while they're polishing your tires a Child Protective Services officer comes to your door and asks to look around. She says "my, your house is so beautiful! And so clean!" You say "yes, yes it is"  She asks you if you hired a professional cleaning service. You tell her "that depends on what your definition of 'hire' and 'professional' is."   
You wink at her. She winks back and says "I'm going to let this slide, but only because those little bastards did such a darn good job cleaning your blinds."

HA! Like they'd ever rat me out. I keep them well supplied in play mobil. If they left, who would buy them their toys? (at least, that's what I'll say to them)
So for an ENTIRE day I'm going to make them work their asses off. Then the next day I'll ask them to put their dirty clothes in the laundry. If they argue or come up with any excuses, I'll say "it's chores, or manual labor- your choice".   That will show them.

Now excuse me while I go put away their toys, gather their dirty clothes and wash their dirty dishes. Bastards.

click here to vote! ~~~>  

For my Hubby

This is for my husband,

Who actually IS dyslexic. 

** Editors note- I just showed Big Daddy this and he read it aloud. He said 

"When life gives you lemons, you may be dyslexic. what does that mean?"

Holy shit that was funny!

The Open House

..... Was a total waste of time. Now excuse me while I use the next 2 minutes to complain.

First of all, we were 30 minutes late. Well, I suppose "late" is a relative term. The thing only lasted an hour. You walk in, your kid shows you all the stuff they've been doing, you take home a few things and then you leave.  I put make-up on for this? I go in that class every week to volunteer and I had to go in, at night during my drinking time, FOR THIS?? Big Daddy left work early in the middle of a big project, FOR THIS?? They didn't even serve cookies! NO COOKIES! The nerve.

It was a total bust. Maybe I was over it because I haven't made any friends with the moms. (yeah, 3 weeks left of school, that's how good at alienating myself I am) So it's not like I was looking forward to seeing anyone or carpooling with anyone while hitting the flask. My favorite person wasn't there. Oh, My favorite person is my son's aid. I asked her if she was going to be there and she replied "why would I? I'm not being paid."  Touche. I wanted to say that exact same thing to the school when they first sent home the open house notice.

They didn't tell me anything I didn't already know. Then again, we're special because we get day to day updates. I think of special needs as "special treatment because we're awesome".

On a plus side- I have a new Snoopy piggy bank sitting on my dresser courtesy of my son's amazing art skills. Ok, so Michelangelo he's not. What do you want? He's 6.

An epiphany

EUREKA!

I totally had a revelation today. I was cleaning up after the 2 spawn I bore and I was mumbling to myself. First thought:
Jeez, is this what my mom went through? Cleaning up our toys day after day after day? (I can hear her right now saying "YES!")
 Motherhood is like Groundhog's Day the movie with Bill Murray. Same thing over and over and over. Seriously, it's the same toys laid out in the same place I just picked them up from. The same thing. over and over the toys, the clothes, in the same place.
And it made me think about how messy I was when I was a kid and how I never cleaned up after myself (some things never change I guess).
And then it hit me- you know how when you get married and your mother is constantly harassing you about "when are you gonna give me grandbabies??" (you have to say that in an old lady east coast accent. possibly jersey.)

Do you know what that means? It DIRECTLY translates to: "When are you going to suffer the way I suffered when I raised you?"
The ONLY reason why they want grandbabies is so that they can sit back, smirk and relish the payback.  They say they want babies to spoil but we know the truth. They want REVENGE. Would-be-grandmas are nothing more than plotting, bitter, vengeful women. And if they're lucky, you'll have a kid that was just, LIKE, YOU. That is why they pump them full of sugar and treats and then send them home. Like shaking a can of soda before someone opens it. Free babysitting comes with a price.

And you know what? We're going to do the EXACT same thing to our kids.

A click is a vote!

What's that smell?

"What's that smell?" A game where there are no winners.

Right? Mommas, you with me on this one? Usually the game is played in the car, in the kids room and in the front entryway. (am I missing any places?) For me the game was in the main part of the house and it lasted 3 days.
3 days. 3 glorious, smelly days.

I have a reverse floor plan in my house. (master bedroom, kitchen and living room) Everything cool is upstairs except the washer and dryer. So I keep a laundry basket upstairs for all the dirty laundry that accumulates upstairs.

I'm pretty sure you can see where this story is going. Long story short a smell starts wafting through the house. Day 1 is subtle at first, but gaining speed and strength as the clock ticks the passage of time.

Fast forward to day 2. My daughter left a blanket on our patio. In the rain. I brought it in and threw it on the pile.  Now the smell is gaining more speed and more strength. I was expecting a play date in 2 hours. So I put the offending basket in my bedroom. (Why didn't you just do your god damn laundry?? that's what you're thinking isn't it? go ahead. admit it. well just so you  know when i'm working under pressure I start to use less of my brain. OK?)

I put up an air freshener and crossed my fingers. The smell left. Ok, now I know it's DEFINITELY in the laundry. It's probably that stupid blanket.

Day 3 (today). I move the laundry out of my bedroom and into the living room. (why don't you just do your god damn laundry?? That's what you're thinking. But what you don't know is that I'm terribly lazy. No, scratch that. I'm terribly busy doing other things that pertain to the maintenance and upkeep of my house. Like checking up on celebrity gossip)

I finally get to the laundry... after asking my daughter if she needed to poop 3 times and dry heaving once (I thought she might be the cause of the offending smell). I start to load the washer with linens. Because i'm SURE it's the blanket. In the wash they go.... it's not the blanket. (hee hee, spell check changed blanket to "blunt" I laughed and snorted. it was funny)

Ok, so now that we've played a whole round of "What's that smell?" are you ready for the answer?

It was a dish towel that was used to clean up spilled milk. From Sunday. Yup. The smell was every bit of awesome as you can imagine.
No points will be awarded this round but stick around for the next game of "Where's my keys?"

Damn you writer's block

For some reason I've been having an insanely hard time thinking of anything to write, let alone something funny. I start off with some tirade against trousers that hit the floor then move on to something about how moms should be praised more when they put effort into their appearance. (We're not held up to the same standards as say, college girls and childless singletons.) Then I start writing a post about how I live in a hippie beach town and that allows you to really let any standards you ever had about personal appearance fall to the wayside. And then I take a deep breath.

Next comes a rant about how I'm so over Hollywood and their predictable stupid movies that make more money than they deserve and pay actors more than they're worth and yet I'm STILL HERE paying to rent the muther effing movie. Damn you Hollywood. Damn you.

As I sit here mulling the purpose of life and how I can make it funny, but more importantly relatable, my son went in to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door. I heard his little voice say "Mom! Can I get you anything? A glass of wine? Some milk, or orange juice?"   That boy is going to make a mighty fine husband one day. Mighty Fine indeed. Unfortunately I can't fill up an entire post on that.

Hmmmm, so what else is there?
Well, I had a play date yesterday that closely resembled a "girls gone wild" video minus the nudity. And I'm not talking about the kids. It got ca-razee.  It ended with a play-date walk of shame linked arm in arm so one of the moms wouldn't topple over. I had to call her husband to come get her car. In retrospect we didn't really need to walk that half mile to her house. We could have just sat there and waited for him to get there and then drive them home.  Oh well, hindsight is 20/20. But THAT'S how you do a play date. If your play date friend doesn't live within drunk walking distance... then sionara.
*Note to self: Make friends with people who live closer to me.

On a birthday note- I booked the bounce house and sent out invites. Each child was able to invite 3 fellow classmates.  It's going to be short and sweet. Just like I like them. With no candy. You hear that?? NO CANDY! I'm saving the sugar in the cake for the end so my cracked out offspring don't need to be pulled out kicking and screaming like wild banshees over-the-shoulder style.

See, nothing to write about. I can't think of a single thing to write about. I'll do better tomorrow.
 Know why? Because tomorrow is an Open House at my son's school. Will I be bringing my flask? Yes. Yes I will.

delete, delete, delete

My brain is just not working today. I have much on my plate, and I spent 2 hours at the dollar store looking for supplies for the midgets' birthday party only to end that 2 hours by being in front of some toothless crack head who put her items in my stuff so I would pay for it.  Then add a playdate (my spell check keeps saying "playmate"....) plus 2 glasses of wine now I'm making dinner. I have no humor left. 

So I'm sorry to disappoint my  hundreds of millions of thousands of fans. 

Today, busy as it was, there was no blog worthy material. I am POOPED. 

So hopefully something fun happens later and I can blog about it before bed.

Until that happens I suggest you read through past material. 

Lisa out!

Sorry Honey

After the kids go to bed my main squeeze and I like to sit on the couch and watch 30 Rock on netflix. Last night I was hankering for some dessert. So I got a handful of dark chocolate Pomegranate seeds. I made a little pocket in my shirt and nestled into the couch thinking my stash would be safe and undetected. 

After one of the episodes was over and we were preparing for the next episode my Darling Husband reached over my body and headed straight for my dessert. Before he got there  I yelled out "BACK THE F$%K OFF!" 

His reply "What the hell was THAT all about?!" 

Me "You were going to eat my chocolate! I was warning you!"

Him "Honey, your chocolate? Really? Seriously? Was that necessary?"

In my haste to kindly warn him to keep away from my sweet treat I misinterpreted the destination of his wandering hands. 

It turns out, My Honey Bunny was completely unaware I had chocolate, he was just trying to cop a feel. Whoops. Sorry Babe. 

Sunday Short

  We're driving in the car and my boy midget says to me "mom, I want cinnamon rolls"
"well I don't have any cinnamon rolls"
"well then let's go to the food store"
"I don't have any money" (on me)
"well then let's go to the money store"
If only.

You're fired

My son was collecting centipedes this evening while we were doing yard work.
He collected them in a large mason jar.  After we finished the yard work and made our way inside, I heard the jar break. All I could think about was the creepy crawly things running rampant in my house.

Lucky for me the jar broke outside. Unlucky for us, my son FA-REAKED out. Now, one of his autisms is that he loses it if he thinks he's going to get in trouble. And boy did he think he was going to get it.

He kept saying to Daddy "Oh No! Are you going to fire me? Am I fired? I'm fired. I'm so fired. " We told him it was an accident. Once he realized he would not be punished he calmed down.

I wanted to tell him that if anyone was going to get fired it would be me. I mean, I show up to work late, drink on the job, don't finished assigned projects, rarely keep my workstation clean, goof off on the computer and take personal phone calls when I should be working, AND I'm sleeping with my boss. Jeez I should have been given the pink slip a long time ago.

You broke a jar with bugs? No problem. You didn't make dinner because you were busy facebooking and downing a bottle of wine? You're fired.

What's wrong with this picture?

I made a new friend last night. A neighbor friend. A drinking neighbor friend. 

She has a bag that she calls her "trash bag".

This picture is of the contents of it. 

AWESOME.

Immunizations

I'm registering my daughter for Kindergarten. Well, I turned in the paperwork March 19th.  They didn't really want to take it because I didn't have her immunization record with me. I told them I would get it to them the VERY NEXT DAY. So here we are, May 13 and I'm finally getting it in. Well, I'm mailing it in.

the second oil change

So Tuesday I took the car in for the oil change and met Bob. Then the next day I took our other car in for it's oil change.

 The dealership used to have a children's lounge that had TONS of toys and kids movies and a T.V.
I found out the day before (with the FIRST oil change) that they no longer had a children's lounge. The new "customer" lounge has coffee, tea, water, TV, magazines, newspapers and a bathroom.

I had my daughter with me this time around. I had told her before we left the house that she needed to bring toys because she would get bored where we were going. She brought toys. I had my lap top she had her toy lap top. I had actual work to do, she had actual complaining and whining to do. Big surprise. When she saw the new lounge I could see the disappointment, confusion and anger on her face. That's how I felt too.

We're sitting there no more than 2 minutes when she says to me:

"Mom, where did all the toys go?"

"They put them away"

"I want to the play with the toys"

"I want you to play with the toys too. But they're not here anymore."

"mom when are we leaving?"

"as soon as the car is done"

"is it done now?"

"no it's not. I'll tell you when it's done"

"mom, i'm really starving. Can we go eat?"

"You're not starving. You ate before we left the house."

"i'm really thirsty"

"there's water over there"

"Mom, is the car done yet?"

I look at her with a stern look "Did I say the car is ready?"

"No"

"Then it's not ready"

2 minutes later

"Mom, I really want to leave"

"Me too, but the car is not ready"

I can actually see the car sitting outside. They haven't started on it.

I got there around 10:15. My son gets out of school at 12:00.

I'm watching the clock tick. tock. tick. tock. 11:00. Still sitting

outside.

"Mom, do you have anything to eat in your purse?" As she starts rummaging

through my purse.

"Nope"

"Mom, I want to watch my care bears movie."

"You can watch it when we get home."

"ok, then can we go home NOW?"

"nope, the car isn't ready"

"Mom, I really want to watch it nooooooooooooow"

This banter was going back and forth, back and forth until I realized that I am the boss AND an adult.

"Look Little Miss, We are HERE. We are STUCK here until

they finish the car. They haven't finished it yet so we can NOT leave. DO. YOU. UNDERSTAND?"

"FINE! I'll just sit here!"

(I doubt it) "ok"

"Mom, I'm going to sit here and be quiet"

"Good"

"Mom, I'm not going to say ANYTHING!"

"alrighty"
"Mom, I'm not whining"
"oh yeah?"

"Mom, I'm being quiet now"
"no, actually you're not"

"Mom, I want to GO!"

THIS ALL HAPPENED OVER THE COURSE OF AN HOUR AND A HALF. 

sort of like this.

She's being very tame here

The reason why this is less funny to read is because you can't see her. She is a total drama queen. She stands with her hip jutting out and her hand on it. She talks with one hand up in the hair, and she makes the same face as me. faces that say "are you an idiot?" and "You can't be serious" and my personal favorite, the "don't be ridiculous" face.  The girl can emote. So here she is (not this picture, "here" as in the adult-lounge-of-boredom-turned-hell) in full actress mode begging to leave. Obnoxious at the moment, a little less obnoxious to look back on.

11:30. I look up, the car has been moved. I need to leave in 15 minutes to be on time.

Silence. FUCKING FINALLY. All I hear is the T.V. It was a jury screening for a high profile murder case:

Judge: is English your primary language or secondary language ma'am?

Prospective Juror: It is a language I speak  

Judge: How much English do you understand?

Prospective Juror: Sometime I can speak it. If you talk slow I can sometime understand if my daughter speak it to me first in Vietnamese.

Me: LADY, the answer was "NOT ENOUGH".

I praise my daughter for being such a good quiet girl. This makes her happy, and surprisingly, keeps her quiet. Quiet, but not still. NEVER still. EVER. 

Finally the car is done. I look at my fidgeting, squirming daughter and say 

"Hey knucklehead, the car is done. Do you want to leave?'

"YES!"

"Are you sure? Because we have some time to kill. We can stay here a little longer"

A look of horror spreads across her face....

"NO!"

"It's ok, I know you like it here. I have some more work to. We can hang out for a little more"

The look turns to pure devastation

"Mom! No! Let's go!"

"You're SURE you want to leave? Because once we leave we're not coming back no matter how much you beg me"

She is on the verge of tears....she is soooooo going to need therapy when she gets older.

I finally tell her OK let's go.

I picked up my son on time. 

All was right with the world. 

This photo NEVER gets old.

Next time I'm scheduling the oil change when she is in school. Or I'm packing my flask. 

Bob

You got that right!

This has nothing to do with this post, but I wanted to show you a picture of my one day rental car's license plate.
<~~~~~~~~~
When we got the car back from the auto shop it wasn't perfect. We demanded perfection, which meant another rental. (not nearly as exciting as the Cube)



Anyway.... I swapped cars with Hubby and took my car to get the oil changed. Both of my kids were in school and I had my laptop so I hung out in the customer lounge.


A while later I get word that they're going to need to keep the car for a few more hours (long story short- they needed to replace a part that had been recalled) and would I like a shuttle.  Yes, yes I would like a shuttle. So they call Bob, the shuttle guy who finally gets there 45 minutes after they call him.  When I see him, I can see why he was 45 minutes late. The guy is 99 years old. And not in the best mood ever. So I let some other sorry passenger ride shotgun.

The sorry ass passenger lady was one of those fake talkers. How do I explain this... The kind of person who makes small talk, tries to be funny, fake laughs and can't stand uncomfortable silence. Awkward. Not for me. I'm in the back. But I can totally tell by Bob's one word answers that he couldn't give a shit about what she has to say. We all perk up when she says she's getting dropped off at a restaurant that is a notorious drinking spot. We're like "Hell yeah!" ("we" as in Bob and I) Of course she has to ruin it by saying "no i'm not going to be drinking."

Finally Miss Fakealot leaves and now Bob and I can get down to brass tacks. I say
"Bob, could this day suck balls anymore?"
Of course an opening line like this will get the honest out of people. Bob says
"I'm just so god damn tired of people blaming me for shit that's not my fault and blahbidy blahbidy, assholes need to get their shit together and be ready when I get there and blahbidy blahibdy blah." Gee Bob, tell me how you really feel.

I like Bob.  He tells me funny stories about how he enjoys eating prime rib dinner at 3:30 at this restaurant that is just "a sea of grey hair. I like mingling with my own kind"
Bob sort of rocks.
He tells me a delightful story about how the owner of said restaurant died and didn't have a trust. He says "you gotta have a trust. Even if there's nothing in it, you gotta have it. You need a plan cuz you know you're gonna die. You can be sure of that."
To which I say "a little planning never hurt anybody. Luck favors the prepared" (a line I TOTALLY stole from The Incredibles. I didn't think he would notice.)

He said I was wise for my years and I told him it was because I have an older husband. (see honey? I said OLDER, not OLD.) And I watch a lot of Pixar movies.
We discussed more real subjects such as death, taxes, college tuition and love. When Bob dropped me off he thanked me for being the best customer and for getting dropped off so close to his girlfriends house (atta boy Bob!) because he would now get to go to her house for lunch. I said "afternoon delight?" He laughed at that and to be honest probably peed in his pants a little bit.

I guess what I learned from Bob.... it wasn't about the trust, or college tuition being an investment....No, the most important thing I learned from Bob is that Chili's now serves a margarita in a big beer mug and it gets you FUCKED UP.
I think I love you Bob.

blogger is down

blogger has been down. Hopefully i can be up and posting SOON.

THANKS FOR YOUR PATIENCE!

Busy Momma

This was me on Tuesday.

Action packed week over here. And not in a "I just broke up with my boyfriend" fun kind of way. Anyone who says a stay at home mom doesn't work can eat my knuckle sandwich. 

Sometimes being a mom is HARD work. And sometimes trying to be funny all the time is even HARDER work. And sometimes writing a funny blog is the HARDEST of them all. So bare with me as I lose my sense of humor to my life raising children and running the household. It is annoying, taxing, patience testing, and sometimes induces bleeding of the ears. (I accidentally typed "arse" instead of ears... boy can you IMAGINE? I would have had my uterus removed years ago)

 As a mom there are many things we have to do. Sometimes very simple day to day tasks will make you want to keep a nip of jim beam in your pocket at all times. Just in case.

I put up with a lot of shit this week. I was able to keep my chin up and smile until I got home and took it out on my crafts. (I believe some people call them "voodoo" dolls but look, I'm not very religious so I don't get that whole thing) Anyway this is a blog about being a mommy and mommy moments and the need for Xanax.... in IV form and running errands, and meeting ass-hats who can throw a wrench into your day and completely fuck it up, and trying to be funny about all of it. You know that saying "one day you'll look back and laugh". I'm waiting for that day. Because when it does come- I will blog about it. 

Hopefully my frustration won't come out turning my posts into bitchy rants soaked in kerosene and then lit on fire. No promises though.