you can't always get what you want..

even though I am kind of used to getting just that.  I had to go and mention irony, and in it's true fashion, it turned around and kicked me right in my ass. Not cool Universe, not cool.
As it turns out, a mere week after seeing the balloon, I wished I had it.  My mother in law was on her way in to hug us goodbye, and hit the road back home to Alaska, when she fell out of the camper (in my driveway... on her way to say goodbye) and broke her femur. True story. The paramedics rolled (you may remember the young hotties that they keep at our local fire department down the road, from when they paid me a special visit on Valentine's day '08 after plunging a meat thermometer through my vegetarian hand..oh sweet irony, you've bested me again. Will I ever learn?!(this is said with reverence, not as a challenge, please understand))
Anyway, sweet young things came to my rescue once again. (sidebar: would it really be too much to ask that once, just once, when I had a need for emergency assistance, that a distinguished gentleman, or woman, would come to my aid? What is with the part time models thinking it's fine to be paramedics?! As if when someone has to cut your pants off, in the driveway, (yes it did), it is too much to ask that they could they just look like my mom, instead of the boy that didn't take me to the prom in high school?! SHIT!) Whisked my mil off in an ambulance, and then with a sideways smile, invited me to Starbucks. Um. Never mind. (my life is so weird)
She goes to the emergency room, and then gets admitted for emergency surgery. Alan meets his folks at the hospital, and calls me later to pick him up there. His car is dead in the parking lot. **shaking fist at irony** Car gets towed from ER parking lot. Etc..Etc..Etc....You are starting to get the picture.
Fast forward to today (since I wish I could). When everything gets all straightened out again, man am I going to appreciate it. Forever. I am sure that I don't need anymore tests of my strength, or mental stability (since I think we are all on the same page there..) 
The sun is supposed to be out tomorrow.  If they served spiked coffee at Starbucks, I might would take Mr. Hottie McFratboy up on his offer for a cuppa. Alas, we are knee deep in school, appointments, and packing to have any time for decompression, so onward. I will take it like a woman. Dominate.  (or hang on by a thin thread, but do it wearing my best jeans, so at least my butt will look good)
Then, when all of this has passed, I will try to look back and laugh, happy to have survived. (then try to forget most of the details)

ps, I also survived the end of the world, which was predicted to be this last weekend.  Guess I'm not done here yet. Although, truthfully I was almost looking forward to it. I am tired.

meds? yes please.

They say that laughter is the best medicine. I agree. Nothing can turn your day around like a good, body shaking belly laugh. The longer the better.  I also like to keep these on hand to take as needed:
beer/tequila
brownies/tater tots
good girl friends
sunny days (need to get this refilled)
fuzzy pants
naps
monkey sex (as in crazy style, not as in with monkeys)
mochas
discount retail shopping (deals=shopping high)

If you don't notice a change in symptoms, or your symptoms get worse, layer two or more (the more the better, preferably all at once).  If you don't notice a drastic change in 6 months, something stronger is necessary. Most likely it could be fatal (to those around you) and/or contagious, so your best bet is some short intense isolation.  Heat usually helps kill any surface troubles, but the important thing is to heal from the inside out.  These things take time.  Maybe pre schedule another "session" for 6 months out.  You can never be too careful.

why didn't I think of that?!

I told Alan that I should write more when Dad is here.  He seriously cracks me up. Alan noted that someone already does that over at shit my dad says. Geez, every good idea I have has already been done. Or overdone.  Although, looks like that guy has been falling behind lately. (Probably because he got a book deal AND a sitcom on a major network, starring my favorite piece of Shatner.)
So I will keep plugging along here, and if you don't hear from me for a while, it's probably because I went and got super famous and forgot all about you. (or possibly I got lost, or the kids have me locked in a closet. Maybe check those out first before quitting your day job to follow my tour as a superfan.)

mama said there'd be days like this

So the other day, Dad and Alan were at the liquor store to get some libations to help us to celebrate cinco de Mayo.  As they were paying for the goodies, the store attendants were locking up the doors because it was closing time. Apparently the employees were turning away wanna be customers left and right. 
The boys walk out of the store with their bottles in paper bags and a lady comes ripping into the parking lot and swings to a stop next to them. They say the car had the bumper duct taped on, the headlights were all wonky and it was sporting other "home made" fixes as well.  She spills out of the car and runs over yelling "I will give you TWICE what you paid!!" (without even knowing what they have in the bag).  They laugh and Dad jokes "I'm sure we can work something out.." They jump into our car and come home.  Later, (a few drinks in) they are recounting the story to us and expect me to laugh. (ok, I did. a little.) Um, did you hook her up? I asked. No, Alan says.  She was all freaky and strung out. "Who are you to judge? I have had that EXACT same day lots of times", says me. "You gotta help a mama out! "
Turns out he was trying to help out this mama, and was worried I would have a similar reaction if he showed up empty handed. On second thought, great choice. Cheers.  She probably didn't have strawberries for the chocolate/whipped cream/ berry shots anyway.  Better luck next time friend.

isn't it ironic

Irony. I am a fan, but I also have respect.  I am always a little nervous that I might die on my birthday, understand that sometimes you will get completely screwed (not the good way), when you are trying to do the right thing, and with my luck I will probably have ALL of the winning lotto numbers the week before they are called.  It's funny, really, it just takes a solid sense of humor to appreciate it. 
Today I was at the hospital with Dad (for a follow up finger appointment, totally routine) and wandered into the gift shop. (of course)  I found a balloon that said "you are in our thoughts and prayers" Um, really?! Not actually balloony, people!  I can't believe I have to explain this, but balloons are for celebrations, parades, and for dumping on your head when you hit the big jackpot. (not when your friend or loved one is lying in a paper robe, in the hospital, with a flesh eating bacteria)  I mean, if someone is in your thoughts and prayers, maybe a nice card, or some flowers would be a good choice.  I am not claiming to be the classiest broad ever, but come on! 
I almost wanted to get it just to have it on hand for emergencies. Baby shower? Quinceanera? It would ALWAYS be totally, inappropriately awesome.  Dad had the best idea: Put it with a HUGE bouquet of black balloons and bring it to a funeral. Taadaa!  You have single handedly just turned the entire event into a party.  Your welcome mourners, you can now tap the keg and party down. Happy I could help.

If not me, then who?

The "meeting" with the little girl (who got spit on) and her mama went as to be expected. That is to say that we were humble, and apologized, and were looking forward to moving on. I sat there quietly while she went on about how the behavior my children have now, can affect people well into adulthood. (um, yeah, so? they happen to be kids, have you heard of it?) Then about how Layla has always behaved this way. (since they have known her, almost 2 years. ps complete BS) and she also went into an area that seemed to me to be questioning my parenting. (really?!) Layla also sat quietly (after giving her sincere apology) with her eyes swollen and red from crying (for reals this time). I thought it went pretty well, I managed my behavior, and learned a couple of valuable lessons: you can't be friends with everyone, and also, sometimes people that look perfectly normal on the outside, are completely bat shit crazy.

Later I was recounting to my mom the way things went and she was appalled. She couldn't believe I just sat there whilst BSC berated my daughter and myself (for no reason). In my mind I was just surviving it, so we could be done. To Mom, we weren't standing up for ourselves or what we thought was right.

My whole life, my mom has been no one to reckon with. She is sometimes severe, and has even been called a bitch. (true story, unbelievable I know) I used to think these were less than complimentary terms, but as an adult I realise that, even though they sound bad, they are just adjectives like any other. I clearly remember a piece of advice that was "Janina, someone always has to be the bitch, and it might as well be you." This my friends, is TRUE information.
I sat in that classroom, letting someone else be the bitch. I let an adult pick on me and my child. I like to think that every negative experience is an opportunity to learn (this way, it's not just a horrible thing that happened, we can also grow from it... yeah) My mom is a strong woman, and always stands up for those that don't have their own voice. I think of myself as a strong woman, but if I see something that I don't think is right, more often I will just let it go and try to not get involved (since that is the easier and more comfortable route to take).

A favorite quote is this "Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed people can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has." (Margaret Mead)

Maybe just surviving isn't enough, if I can't stand up for myself or my children, who can I trust to do so? Being an adult is more than just getting older, it comes with the responsibility of being the voice for those of us who aren't as strong, or able to do it themselves.

I remember once at the mall (cringe), I was probably in high school, we saw a mama (I use the term loosely here, as to me it is a reverent word) yelling at her very small child and grab him by the ear and twist it. We were across the store at the time, and Mom shot over there like she was wearing a jet pack. I remember the feeling right now. I was more than embarrassed, I was mortified. She proceeded to inform the lady that what she was doing was no way to treat a child, and that if she didn't stop immediately, Mom was going to do something about it. (I am trying to melt into the floor at this point) I honestly think before that day, I had never been so humiliated in my life. (possibly never since. probably I have though, and was just too drunk to remember..) Anyway, that memory has stuck in my brain ever since, and I just realized, just a minute ago, my mom is a freaking SUPER HERO. I would have died a little inside seeing a child treated in that way, but I think I would have not gotten involved. I'm sure it was uncomfortable for her too, but she felt convicted, and knew that if she didn't stand up for that little boy, right then, no one would do it.

I think maybe bitch is a synonym for strong, or maybe even badass (neither of which are negative terms). As an adult now, I realise that it takes guts to be strong, it is far from easy, and there is always a fight. If I was ever to tangle with anyone, Mom would be the first person I would pick to be on my team. Damn right she's a bitch. Someone has to be. Lesson learned. (also, now that she has moved me to action, she will be the one I call to post my bail.) Thanks MOM!!!

ps, new favorite quote: "Well behaved women seldom make history."  indeed.

hello again.

After an on again, off again relationship, where I have been lifted to my highest highs, and plunged down to my lowest lows, where I have been sweetly tempted, and then left feeling depressed, lost many sleepless nights, and wasted so so so many empty calories, it is back on. Coffee, be mine, now and forever. I am sorry that I tried to ignore you, when the whole time, your dark, rich kiss helped me get through early mornings, and hard days. My breakfast is hollow without you, I want to wake up to you every morning. I dream of your smell, and the way you taste in my mouth, the way you make me feel. I think this is the real thing. I love you.

And, in other news.......

Layla had an incident the other day. A mom approached me in the school parking lot visibly upset. She proceeded to tell me that Layla had pushed her daughter in class (this wasn't the first time she claims) and then Layla SPIT in her hair. Um, WHAT?!?!
This mom was shaking and sounded like she could pop a vessel at any moment.

Well, I had just survived a lengthy visit from my in laws and I tell you, if I was ever ready to get into a fight, today was the day. I calmly set down my basket and got ready to rumble. I had so much pent up aggression I could have body slammed "the Rock", this little mousy haired, station wagon driving mama had NO IDEA what she was getting herself into. (I almost felt sorry for her...almost).

I guess she was smart enough to see the crazy in my eyes, or felt like I could handle the situation from there, but she scooted right along, which was a good thing for us both.

Please know that I am no stranger to getting the boot, but looking back, fist fighting another mama over my daughter's bad behavior would probably not send quite the right message. (bonus points for me realizing that, before actually getting us all expelled from the program-yay me!!)

Fast forward to a few hours later after I have endlessly grilled Layla about this entire ordeal. I am shouting (since spitting in hair is totally not how we behave...well, I guess unless provoked. oops) and she is crying. And crying. And crying. I am having a hard time getting past it. Why would she behave this way?! What made her think that her behavior was acceptable. She spends the next 2 days with me spouting questions and expletives in a tourettes fashion, and her looking VERY sorry and remorseful, almost fighting back tears the entire time. Or so I thought.

This morning she woke up with her eyes stuck shut, and I find out that the swollen, red eyes she has had these past two days are not from her guilt over her bad behavior, but pink eye. That's right, she has conjunctivitis. Thank you, thank you, I am now going to accept my "Mother of the Year Award".

Whatever, I took her to the doctor first thing, she got her very own roll of paper towels in the bathroom, and her own fancy lavender hand sanitizer, so I am still totally legit. (and we might have had a small talk about karma. that's how I roll bitches!)