Chad’s visit

I hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving. It was a super busy weekend for me, culminating in dinner and a movie with my friend Chad. He’s here from San Francisco for the week and yesterday was (possibly) the only time I will see him during this visit.

Reagan was bummed because Sunday was Christmas tree day. She made comments like “So, you love your friend Chad MORE than your family?” and “Chad’s only here for one week but this is the ONLY TIME ALL YEAR that we will put up a Christmas tree.” Geeesh.

She called me three times during my plans with Chad. “When are you going to be home?” “You JUST got to the movie?”

Her final phone call came during dinner.

Reagan: “You’re missing ‘Desperate Housewives’ and I saw a commercial, it’s the BEST one of the season.”
Me: “That’s okay. I’ll see it later.”
Reagan: “It won’t replay until summer.”
Me: “That’s okay, I’ll be home soon.”
Reagan: “Fine, but you missed putting up the tree.”
Me: “I know, but I’ll look at it right when I get home.”
Reagan: (huffily) “Have fun with your ‘friend.’”
Me: “Bye, love you”
Reagan: “That’s what you SAY.” (You know, vs. my actions, which clearly show my lack of love.)

It’s funny how kids learn to push your buttons. Reagan knows family is important to me and traditions are a significant part of our family life. So what better way to make me feel awful?

I did suggest that we wait a week to do the tree, but Reagan was adamant that the tree HAD TO go up last night. Manipulative, guilt inducing and rigid, it’s a lovely combo to live with. (In a more charitable mood I’d say she is persuasive, conscientious and determined.)

When I arrived home the tree did look lovely. Reagan and I chatted some; she still had a bit of a chip on her shoulder, but seems to be getting over it. Taylor and I read some of “The Golden Compass,” a book we started after I recieved this email from a co-worker. The email backfired; it made me curious and I purchased the book. (BTW, my co-worker believes every email she gets, including this one, that seems so obviously fake.)

Oh, that reminds me, did anyone shop this Black Friday? Yes, super crowded stores are right up there with flesh eating larvae on the list of things I’d prefer to avoid….

Happy Thanksgiving

The number one thing I’m thankful for is that everyone in my family is healthy. (Okay, maybe not mentally, but that’s another post.)

After health, I’m really thankful for my friends; MarySue, Laura and Katrina, they have saved my sanity so many times over the years and I always have fun with them.

I am also thankful for all my new internet acquaintences, especially Katie, who emailed me helpful advice during a recent crisis.

I hope everyone is healthy and happy today and is surrounded by friends and family.

Today Chris and Reagan are shopping for a birthday gift for Taylor’s 14th birthday, which falls on “Black Friday.”

I spoke to my husband a few minutes ago, to get an update on the shopping. He said they are still looking for a few things, including a “really cool laundry basket for Taylor’s room.”

Yes, every teenage boy would LOVE to receive a laundry basket for his birthday, especially a “really cool” one….

My poor husband, he’s gift giving challanged. For example, on my last birthday I received two $10 bills, a book about Ronald Reagan and two sequined make-up bags (from Dollar Tree).

And now, back to our regularly scheduled programming…

Raise your hand if you want to strangle that little girl in the Toy’s'R’Us commercial. (I hate that commercial! Everytime I see it I think “You’ve got enough goddamned stuffed animals to feed thirty starving kids in Ethiopia…”)

Really, she may have the MOST annoying voice EVER. I’m hard pressed to think of anything more irritating.
Nails on a chalk board? Nope.
My kids whining? Close, but nope.
Christmas carols before Thanksgiving? No cigar.
Bloggers quitting blogging? Okay, that one’s a draw.

Bookie

Today is not a good day. At least not for me. Not for my family. It’s the same old story, boy meets girl, girl gets pregnant and they live unhappily ever after. Or something like that.

Furthermore, I was reading a forum post about the “top 5″ things people want to do in their lives, and realized I have none. Okay, I would like to exclusively own matching bra and panty sets and I’d like to go to Italy, but other than that, I’m goal-less.

It all makes me sad and weary. And I’m not a sad and weary type of person, so havin’ a heaping helpin’ of sadness on my plate, with a ketchup-like coating of weary is hard for me to fathom.

It’s thick and sticky and I feel like I’m sinking. It’s like the Great Molasses Flood of 1919, only not in Boston, in my brain and not molasses, but mournfulness.

10 commandments

Somewhere recently I read mention of a lady who has committed to not breaking any of the ten commandments and is blogging about it. I tried to find her blog but had no luck. (But there are a lot of posts entitled “The 10 Commandments of Blogging” out there.)

Really, wouldn’t it have been more interesting if she had blogged about breaking them all? Who wants to read about someone living a righteous life when debauchery is so much more fun?

I’m sure she will be able to go a year without killing someone one or creating a graven image, but will she be able to forgo using OMG? And coveting, how can one really not covet? I don’t (usually, that is) covet material goods, but I’m sure when I am at work and hustling around doing my birthday/Christmas shopping I’ll be coveting Laura and Craig’s vacation in the Virgin Islands.

Perusing PeoriaSpeaks I responded to a thread about “what was your worst job?” At first I thought waitress, then data entry, but pondering it, I now realize that my worst job was babysitting.

When I was thirteen I babysat, for a week in the summer, the two sons of one of my mom’s co-workers. It seemed perfect, they lived within biking distance and I could make some money for school clothes (Guess Jeans? A Benetton bag?).

The boys were eleven and seven and had a litter of cuddly kittens. The younger child was well behaved, but the older boy, odds are he is currently incarcerated.

The first day the older boy (aka: hellboy) kept swinging the kittens around by their tails.

The second day he was smoking in the bathroom.

The third day he started a fire in the kitchen.

The fourth day he pulled a garden hose through the kitchen window and turned it on. I didn’t find it until I went to make the kids lunch.

The fifth day, after I caught him smoking again, he pushed me down on the couch and held a knife to my throat, threatening me not to tell his mother. Then rode away on his bike, saying he was never coming back.

I didn’t go back for a sixth day.

Even as a clueless thirteen year old I felt for the mother; I remember thinking that if I were her, I would run away from home.

Luckily my daughter was able to attend school yesterday, but her whininess was still in full force. At one point Taylor said “damn” in everyday conversation; I reminded him that he should not swear and Reagan started crying, saying “You love Taylor more than you love me; If I cussed, you would ground me.” Ugh. Girls. I told her, “Of course I love you more; you are way less annoying than your brother.”

Not true. My kids seem to have an equal capacity to drive me bat shit.

Luckily for them, they are amateurs compared to their father.
Who seems to be around all the time.

Lurking in the house.

Trying to decide between two career possibilities. And ambushing me with questions that I don’t know how to answer…

“Do you think I should work for X or Y?”
“Which job should I pick?”
“Okay, well, which job do you think I will pick and why?”
“If you were me, what would you pick?”

Enough already.

He’s like the characters in that sleep-aid commercial; Lincoln in his stove pipe hat or the beaver, skulking about when I just want a little peace.

I miss being in the house by myself, able to watch E! True Hollywood stories without feeling bad that the bathroom is a mess. Or eating a bowl of ice cream with whipped cream and hot fudge, without a look that reminds me “Oh, yeah, I’m on a diet.”

Retirement just might kill me. Lucky for us, with our current state of finances we might both be working until we’re 85. (Always looking on the bright side, aren’t I?)

Maybe I should encourage him to develop some hobbies that don’t involve following me around and saying “whatcha doin?”
Maybe taxidermy? Which would be worse, a stuffed raccoon lamp or a husband that never leaves the house?

Rattles and rifles? Pacifiers and rat poison?

Scenario: My office, inhabited by myself and my co-worker, Mary. (No, I’m not breaking the cardinal rule of blogging; “no blogging about work.”)

A knock on our door, it opens, two twenty-something salespeople enter…

Sales dude 1: “Hi, I see your sign.” (NO SOLICITORS) “But we have such a great deal; we have these GREAT super-sized ‘Tom and Jerry’ coloring books, normally they retail for $14.95 each, but you can get FOUR for the price of ONE.”

(Do little kids still watch “Tom and Jerry?” I thought Dora was all the rage with the toddler set.)

Mary: “I don’t have any kids” (Liar! but her kids aren’t really “kids” anymore, in their 20′s and 30′s, so I’ll forgive her the fib.)

Me: “Oh, my kids are too old for coloring books.”

Sales dude 2: “You GIRLS have kids?!”

(Yes, it’s lovely being condescended to by someone young enough to be my son younger brother.)

No luck with the coloring books, so they pull out their next super special sale item, a set of knives.

Sales dude 1: “We have this really great knife set, normally on sale for $40, but since you’re our last stop, we’ll give you two whole sets for just $40.”

(Everything with these guys is “great;” they really need to work on their adjectives. What about superlative? Deluxe? Majestic? Fabulous? Wonderful? Divine? Grand? Marvelous? Nifty?, Sensational? Splendid? Terrific?)

Us: “No thank you.”

They leave, wishing us well, and head to the bar next door. Ten seconds later they cross the street to the attorney’s office. I’m betting they had little luck there, too.

What I really wanted to ask was “Who came up with the excellent peddling combo of coloring books and knives?”

Reagan + fever = bad whine…. Tay + fever = upchuck…

My daughter is home today with strep throat. At the doctor’s office she said “I hope Tay doesn’t get it. Monday night I bought him a bottle of water, but before I gave it to him, I drank some.” Oh, great. The one time my daughter voluntarily shares something with her brother and it’s bacteria-laden…