JP and the MegaBeast

Why the Past Few Days Have Been a Little Bit Stinky…and Why I’m Hoping Today Will Be Better.

2005-10-19T11:05:00.000-07:00

You would think that I’m so used to my crazy life that I would become immune to anything that is thrown my way. One would think that, yes. And yet I am repeatedly thrown off guard by the chaos and insanity. Seriously…do I just keep NOT learning? You’d think that courtside tickets for Sunday’s game would’ve created this Bermuda Triangle for all the chaos and bad things in my life to go to. While the game was incredibly fun, it just made Monday THAT much more offensive…and ugly…and made me want to cry. I could tell you about some of the accounting garbage that nearly drove me to jumping off the balcony into the river, but that includes telling you of accruals, balance sheet drama, journal entries, referencing, etc and I just don’t think I can do that to you.

You can thank me later.

But it was the chaos that ADDED to that chaos that made me want to cry. Things like my ear buds from my headphones not fitting into my ears properly. Turns out I had the right bud in my left ear and the left bud in my right ear but I had no clue my ears were so ear-bud-picky.

Or when you let your child “do” her own hair over the weekend, it is not until Monday morning that you realize that something is amiss. As Alonso brushed Paige’s hair…he just couldn’t figure out why the front looked so funny…so poofy. With his frustration levels at breaking points and wondering where all this “new hair” came from, I examined the situation only to find that the supposed “new” hair was actually CUT HAIR. It would seem that (at some point) over the weekend Paige got a comb stuck in her hair and the little troll attempted to CUT it out. The little troll’s explanation of why she didn’t ask for help in removing the comb was: “I don’t know.” Even “my dog at my homework” is better than that. Have I failed her as a parent in that she can’t even give me a decent excuse???

And then there was the chore chart that I created for the entire family to follow. Everything went fairly smooth all week. There is so much more order to too all things and I really am super proud of my organization and initiative. EVERYTHING on our list of daily/weekly chores got done…EVERYONE did their part. And THEN MIL tells me last night that we need to go over the chore chart because certain things didn’t get done last week. When I asked her what didn’t get done she pointed out MY project for the week. I gave her the most incredulous look I could come up with and said: “yeah-huh.” But because she didn’t SEE (with her own evil-eyes) the work get done, then it didn’t happen…it was ME that didn’t get the job done. I’m still berating myself for working so damn hard because it really was for no reason. Really. Why do I keep trying?

The bright spot to all of this is that I have declared Friday a holiday and I’m spending the entire day NOT AT WORK and yet NOT AT HOME, either. Good job me. I might even get to spend time with my mom…AND get my hair done. My week can only improve, right? I’m also not telling anyone in my household that I am taking the day off. As dishonest as that sounds, I just DO NOT want to deal with any of them knowing. I need a REAL day off and that WILL NOT HAPPEN if those people know about it. Sure, my passage to Hell has been bought and paid for. But I will have good hair come Friday at noon...complete with highlights. One has to look good in Hell, no?

Time Off for Bad Behavior

2005-10-13T17:19:00.000-07:00

It’s been really intense at work. There is so much going on and everyone is a little on edge. I’ve been working so much and I’m really starting to hate this place. In geek terms, since I AM in accounting, that we do a full month-end close of the books…EVERY MONTH. It is October 13th and we JUST started on our close yesterday and have to have financials done by close of business Tuesday. That does not even cover the “extra” projects that are on my desk, too.

You just MIGHT sense the urgency and the intense situations that I am facing. A nervous breakdown was imminent. Or yelling at the CEO of our company. Yelling at any high level officer of a company is usually frowned upon…but I was just rewarded for it. Well…I think I just scared the bejezus out of everyone by my outburst when I’m usually so quiet and accommodating.

I’ve created a new image for myself now.

With SO MUCH work looming in front of me, I haven’t been leaving my desk very often. I heard quite the commotion over on the other side of our floor, but didn’t think much about it. I was focused on my bean counting responsibilities and couldn’t be bothered. As luck would have it, I needed to make a copy and walked over to the other side and found pretty much everyone on the floor surrounding our CEO. Our company has courtside tickets to the Sacramento Kings and they were having a drawing for four pre-season tickets for this Sunday. But only if you were in the general vicinity so that you could put your name in the empty oatmeal box they were using as a bucket. In passing, once I found out what was going on, I mentioned the injustice of not including those of us WHO WERE ACTUALLY WORKING. I was basically told, “Too bad…you should’ve been over here.”

Those bastards.

On my way back, I stop to ask a co-worker a question (so that can proceed with WORKING) and the four winners, the CEO and other various co-workers are talking about the contest and who won, etc. I think my late hours, working from home and dreaming about work is taking its toll on me. In the middle of their conversation I blurt out,

“I can’t believe I’ve worked here for EIGHT YEARS and have never gotten
tickets!”

“Well, where were you??!” says CEO. “You should’ve been out here!”

“I was WORKING Godammit!” (and then he laughs.)

Now, I may swear like a sailor...at times…but that is NOT a word I ever use. EVER. And then I pull out all the stops and swear at the CEO of our company??! My mom will be so proud when she reads this. May the shame and guilt officially begin.

And yet I now have a ticket to the game.

While John does have tickets for Tuesday’s game (so I don’t feel all that bad) I can’t believe that I am going to the King’s game Sunday. Courtside. Right behind the players. At halftime, Tracie (one of the winners) and I will switch with the other two who will be sitting courtside, center court. Now tell ME that the squeaky wheel doesn’t get that grease. Even if you do, I WILL NOT BELIEVE YOU. Apparently the “nice little girl” routine, while it might make people like you, it does NOT give you courtside tickets.

I’ve been living life so wrong.

I Hope You've Had The Time Of Your Life

2005-10-08T15:15:00.000-07:00

Last night, in the car, one of the local DJ's announced the upcoming songs and artists. One of them being our beloved Green Day. From the back seat Abby's excitement is uncontainable and she yells, "MOMM! Green Day.....they say GREEN DAY!!"

Could a mother be ANY prouder? Most parents hope that they instill special talents like being a good speller...or a good athlete...or have really great hair. Me? I aim for the inevitable love for Green Day. The fact that the three year old has a love for Billie Joe and Co. that rivals my love...well, it just does the heart good. It's right up there wiith the first time she called me "mom."

Nevermind that she called my friend, Mary, "mom" BEFORE she called me "mom"....that's just a technicallity.

There are times when I look at my two girls and marvel at the fact that I'm a mom...even if I didn't get the title first. (Thanks to Mary.) I think about when they were born and how amazing those two events were. I think about the joy that feel as a mother...how a little voice singing "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" can bring you to tears...or how that first dribble down the soccer field brings out the absolute maniac out of you. Or the very first time your 3rd grader says that you don't have to walk them ALL the way to the class and you think your heart might break...and then smile the next day when they don't want you to leave. Even those times when you're about to pull your hair out because if they fight with eachother ONE MORE TIME you're gonna lose it...or when that same 3rd grader argues with you because her teacher told her a different way to do something...or when the three year old WILL NOT do what you ask her to. Being a mom (or a dad) is THE hardest job you will ever have. You will never feel so much guilt...so much happiness...so much pain...so much of a reward in your life.

The mom's of today put so much pressure on themselves to be "the perfect mom." There is this "need to please" and the need to prove that Wonder Woman does exist...and she's taken on the secret identity of that mom over there that drives the Volvo. It is almost like each mom is competing against the other to see who can put on the best fundraiser or bake the best cookies...or see who has the best hair.

Since pre-school...I've felt that need to compete. Like I'm not a good enough mom anyway because I work outside the home why bother trying to keep up with those other moms who are outdoing the other at any given opportunity. I'm so very tired of those mom's that will sit there and talk bad about other moms/parents just to further validate what they do. I mean, who died and left them in charge to make other parents feel like crap?? When Paige started 2nd Grade, I made a committment to myself that I would NOT get sucked into that vortex again. I would NOT try to compete with those other moms for the top spot only to get voted off the "island" when the next up and coming mom found something else to dazzle everyone around her. I've done a good job of not getting sucked in. I have let myself feel inferior (thanks to Oozie Lady) but I stay out of the drama...I stay out of the issues that come up because the other parents create those issues...and I make it a point to stay away from those parents and keep them at a distance when they just won't stay away.

I came accross a book the other night as I wondered the book store. (An evening at the book store BY MYSELF...THANKS DAD!) It was a new release written by a mom who takes a hard look at todays mom and how that monster was created. Just reading the inside cover of the book, I felt a connection to this other mother that wrote a book on the craziness that is: MOTHER. Why does every mother have something to prove? If ever there were an idea for a reality show (and please know I don't condone it) it would be mothers competing against eachother. The mom that throws the best birthday part or play date...or the mom that bakes the best cakes or sews the best costume.

It's disgusting.

I love how much I enjoy my daughters' school expereinces one I removed myself from the evil vortex of mothers. I still have (many) moments of inferiority complex...but I suppose that is to be expected when Little Suzy's mommy just sent out the birthday invitations for an event that rivals the Golden Globe Awards. It's excessive...and it's unnecessary...and I'm glad that it doesn't bother me as much anymore.

Bu then, I'm on my way to go color with Paige and sing (edited) Green Day songs with Abby. Life just doesn't get much better than that.

I'm So Dizzy...My Head is Spinning

2005-10-07T11:04:00.000-07:00

When “Mr. Brightside” comes up on the MP3 player, it starts with music on only one side of the earphones. This happens with other songs, I know….hearing different instruments or vocals on either ear. But for some reason with that song, it makes me dizzy. Like…wicked dizzy for those first few seconds of the song and then everything goes back to the not-dizzy-state of being. Weird. I know.

I’m sure this has everything to do with my equilibrium (that whole inner-ear thing)…but does this totally prove how completely unbalanced I am? Or does my body just have an aversion to The Killers?

Blah, Blah, Blah...Mother In-Law, Blah, Blah, Blah

2005-10-06T17:13:00.000-07:00

Anyone who reads JP and the MegaBeast with any regularity (all 6 of you) should know that when I haven’t posted for a week, or more, there is a hum-dinger of a post headed your way.

Today is no different. If only for the fact that you can expect me to have a good MIL story since she can’t go an entire week without pissing me off. I am NOT hard to get a long with…it completely boggles the mind that she can piss me off daily.

And yet she does.

MIL’s birthday was over two weeks ago. Being the dutiful daughter in-law that I am, I had been planning a lovely birthday dinner party in her honor with special dinner guests included. I had everything planned out so nicely and was proud of how organized I was. I gave MIL a heads-up so that she wouldn’t plan anything, and went along with planning the event.

And then I made the mistake of including her husband and sons in the planning. Reason #5387 why I can be the stupidest person on the planet sometimes. Not only did they completely disrupt all my beautiful planning and organization but they couldn’t even find a day that would “work for them” and come up with ANY viable solutions for making this dinner party work. It was THEY…NOT ME that postponed any birthday celebrating until just last weekend.

And it is ALL.MY.FAULT.

So…

*I plan a dinner, can’t happen because those men are worthless.

*MIL embarrasses me in front of my friends when she blames me for the lack of birthday celebrating and says something about the fact that I promised her a birthday dinner and didn’t come through. I’m paraphrasing, of course…but she speaks broken English…it’s better for everyone this way.

*I push and push the men to actually do something…they continue to be worthless. I make a rash decision to do Sunday Brunch. All dinner guests are now brunch guests.

* MIL does not get much sleep the night before due to getting ready for a class she has and is therefore very tired for Sunday brunch. This can only mean bad things for yours truly.

*IN FRONT OF ALL OUR GUESTS, MIL has the nerve to say that she had wanted to sleep in this morning but couldn’t because she was told that she had to get up early for this brunch.

*While sitting at the very same table with this woman after she just blamed me for making her wake up while just days before she blamed me for not doing anything for her birthday, I stare out the window trying NOT to strangle her with my bare hands and realize just how DONE I am. I’m done with everything being my fault. I’m so done. And no matter how much I bring to her attention, she just doesn’t GET IT.

I think I liked it better when I just wasn’t speaking to her. Even if she totally didn’t notice.

Cuteness at High Decibles

2005-09-29T10:00:00.000-07:00

Abby had her first preschool field trip the other day to a neighborhood fire station. I think the picture accurately describes her enthralling experience:

It turned out to be only a 30 minute field trip so Alonso dropped her off here at my office earlier than planned. While I knew I wouldn’t get MUCH done with her with me, I tried to answer a couple of e-mails (and a voicemail) with her sitting on my lap. After telling Jess via e-mail that Abby was visiting me, Jess sends an Auntie’s Hello with her (e-mailed) response. Foolishly, I tell Abby that “Aunt Jess says Hi.”

Abby stops coloring with the myriad of highlighters she had confiscated from my desk and looks at my computer screen and says,

“Jess…what you say?! MOM! WHAT SHE SAY???!!”

Apparently the three year-old doesn’t fully comprehend e-mails. And I’m sure the co-workers would appreciate LESS YELLING from Abby as she awaits an answer from Jess on the computer screen.

Ironic that the people that sit the closest to me have no children. Abby just might be the best birth control out there…

Why You Should NEVER Take Three Children to the Pharmacy

2005-09-29T09:20:00.000-07:00

With the past two weeks being the way they were, a trip to the pharmacy was NOT an option even though I’ve had a prescription for Paige’s nasal spray and eye drops for over a week. Yeah…the “Bad Mom Award” is in the bag!

Since I get out of work early on Tuesdays, I thought I would try out my Wonder Woman cape and take Paige, Abby and Michael to run errands with me after I picked them up from school. I know that my stupidity astounds you…but I had put it off long enough, I needed to check that off my to-do list. And so we went.

The slowness of this particular pharmacy turned “it will be ready in 15 minutes” to 45 minutes of watching these children terrorizing anyone and everyone that dared to cross their path. Abby ran at top speed to the other side of the store and darted down multiple aisles…tried on umpteen pairs of cheap sunglasses…and pretended to drink out of the baby bottles and sipp-y cups. Paige had to use the bathroom…twice. Michael TACKLED Abby to “catch” her on one of her attempts to outrun the law/her mother and then practically WWF-body slammed her to the floor to prove his point.

Seriously, where is the mother of these children, you might be asking?! Looking at lip gloss to save her sanity, thank you very much.

On one of my many attempts to just get them to hold still, they happened upon the blood pressure tester machine and the chair massager right next to each other. Foolishly, I thought this would occupy them for a time whilst I contemplated how I could get Abby “stuck” in the blood pressure machine until it was time to go. (Note: She’s too small…it didn’t work. Damn.) Fortunately and unfortunately, the chair massager was a big hit. Somehow, Abby got the first turn sitting on the chair. Due to her smallness, it just knocked her around a bit and she tired of it soon after she sat down. On to Paige who enjoyed the massage and took a bit of a longer turn than Abby…so Abby and I pretended to be enamored with the hair clips and brushes.

And then it was Michael’s turn at the chair.

I don’t know if Michael’s ever had any type of massage. A five year old usually doesn’t have that experience under their belt…but you never know. What I DO know is that Michael seemed to enjoy his turn at the chair due to him making noises of "pleasure" that made me sort of embarrassed. Actually, A LOT embarrassed. So embarrassed that I was SO glad when his focus turned to the blood pressure machine…and he got stuck.

I couldn’t decide if his yells of being stuck were worse than his “noises of pleasure” but I can tell you that I didn’t even care how expensive those darn prescriptions were because it got me right the hell out of that store.

After I caught up with Abby, of course.

Do You Celebrate a Blog Birthday or Blog Anniversary...and What is the Traditional Gift for Both?

2005-09-28T13:30:00.000-07:00

Today, JP and the MegaBeast is a year old. Or as I like to call it, “it’s been a year of virtually free therapy with the internet.” Because, let’s be honest…that’s what it really is. When I started this whole “blogging” thing, I just needed a place to vent. To say what was on my mind without having to say it to any particular person. I starting blogging because Sarah told me it would be good for me.

And it has.

In the beginning, the MegaBeast represented all the frustrations, etc in my life that just needed to be dealt with. Over the past year, the MegaBeast has continued to represent any and all of my frustrations in life. Most recently that frustration is my mother in-law. I can picture some raised eyebrows out there at my sarcastic approach to my life…but folks, I have to laugh and poke fun at my life so that I can put it all in perspective. I’m learning how to deal with the difficult people in my life…to stand up for myself…to move away from being such a doormat…to remember what is REALLY important and what truly is not. I love being able to laugh at the silly parts of my life. I love that even though I have crazy stories about crazy people in my life (or just my crazy life) that I can still (eventually) laugh at the craziness and remember that I truly am so blessed. I have SO much to be grateful for and I am.

Through this crazy blogging world, I’ve also learned that I like to write. I’m not saying I’m good at it…but I have found that I like telling stories. It has become a release for me. It has been a way for me to be creative and truthful all at the same time. It has been fun to go back and see how my writing has evolved over the past year…good or bad. I love that I am creating a type of journal that I would never have if I wasn’t blogging it. Oh, my poor children.

But one of the best parts of this blogging stuff is the other bloggers. I LOVE reading those blogs I’ve come to love. I LOVE learning that other people go through VERY similar situations and understanding the “other side of the story” sometimes. I feel like I have this new network of friends, even though I’ve never actually met most of these people and they probably have no clue how much I enjoy them and their blogs. I fear I’ve become like a stalker to those blogs that entertain me. Do they have restraining orders for blog stalkers? I’m harmless. Really. But I do sometimes snort when I laugh at some of your posts.

It’s weird that it’s been a year. It’s weird that I still love to do this. Hell, whoever reads JP and the MegaBeast must thing I’m SO weird. But that’s okay.

Thanks for letting me play along.

Inter-Office E-Mails Between Sarah and JP

2005-09-28T10:13:00.000-07:00

The thing is here. :) And by "thing" I mean the thing that D normally gets. Thank you.

It's here? wow...cool....will you bring it up at lunch????

What am I? Your burro?

Oh, heavens no. You're my bitch...

Welcome To Paradise

2005-09-25T22:05:00.000-07:00

A while ago while having lunch with some co-workers and the topic of favorite celebrities came up. Okay, it was a topic of which celebrities you had the hots for…and in what order and by category. (What can I say, we’re in Finance…we have dork-ish tendencies.) The categories were simple…favorite celebs for TV, Sports Figure, Movies or Music and there really was no limit of choices to each category. We even created “young” and “old” sub-categories within each category. (i.e. old hottie: Sean Connery or Robert Redferd vs. current hotties like Brad Pitt and George Clooney. Yum.) We somewhat patterned it around “the list” as seen on Friends. You know, the list of celebrities that were okay/had permission to sleep with should the opportunity ever present itself. I’m not saying it’s EVER okay to sleep with someone, even if they are a celebrity…and, you know…so Brad Pitt-ish.

Anyway…I’ve digressed. My current list, as it stands right now would go as follows:

TV: I have a special place in my heart for Michael Vartan from ALIAS. It saddens me greatly that he may be going away from the show. But let’s not speak of such things. I also, like most red-blooded American women (and gay men) love Ty Penington. (sigh, swoon…etc.)

Sports Figure: As I’ve already written a post on this man, there really is not reason to bring up my crush on Lance Armstrong…but shoot, why NOT bring it up? He’s delicious and a do-gooder.

Movies: I love Johnny Depp. There. I’ve said it. I LOVE that Wacky Canadian. I do. He’s hot…he’s fun to watch in any movie…and he’s H.O.T. Did I mention that I find him HOT? Well…he is…HOT.

So that brings us to MUSIC. You may not be aware of this, but I love me some Green Day. Always have. But my love has grown over time for Billie Joe Armstrong. There is just something about that Punk Rock, too much eyeliner, potty-mouthed freak that is just so endearing to me. I can’t explain it…I don’t really understand it…I just accept it and move on with my Billie Joe loving self.

So, to my complete delight, last night Alonso and I made our way to their “Homecoming” concert in San Francisco at SBC Park with 50,000 other Green Day fans. It was a huge show…and it was one of the best, if not THE best, concert I’ve been to. It was such a good show…it was fun…and it was filled with much Billie Joe…and really, you can’t ask for more than that. They were so entertaining and they even threw in some of my old favorite songs with the new stuff, too. Can they be any cooler? (I’d say probably not.) I was so excited the entire show.

There was a dark cloud over my evening, though. Throughout most of the show, I worried that I had reached the point in my life where I have absolutely NO HOPE of being cool. I just had this feeling that I’ve hit that time in my life that the “younger crowd” takes one look at me hoppin’ and dancin’ around and thinks, “OH, HOLY HELL…SHE IS L.A.M.E.” and then laugh their way away from me. And I think, “Is THAT me? Am I turning into THAT woman?” And then I weep on the inside. (sigh)

But really, I can’t dwell TOO much on that when there was just so much time to love Billie. So much time to love Billie…and so much hate on my feet for standing the entire time on that field. It was all worth it though…you know, loving the Green Day and the Billie. And then after the show in the bathroom…this teenage girl saw my wrist band that got us onto the field and says to me,

“Ohmigosh…did you get to go back stage?!” as she pointed to the green wristband.

“Oh, no.” I laugh, “this was just what got us onto the field.

“YOU. Were in. The MOSH PIT?!?!?”

And before I could help it, I LAUGHED and nearly said, “Honey…what part of that crowd on the field looked like a Mosh Pit??? In MY day if you were in the Mosh Pit you would have the bloody lip and black eye to prove it.”

But…whatever. By that time I had experienced about six or seven contact highs and was really craving some french fries.

Because I'm Still Waiting For the Good Day

2005-09-23T12:06:00.000-07:00

My boss’ name is Rita. Rita’s from Texas. One of our other executives walked into her office yesterday and said, “What’d Texas do to you?”

Is that funny? Because I’m still trying to find out if that’s funny. I just don’t think that was funny. But maybe that’s because it’s been a bad week. It’s actually been a bad two…maybe even THREE weeks. I’m sure you could tell by the really bad writing I just done did. I can’t even formulate a proper sentence, let alone make SENSE. I’d like to just blame it on Katrina or Rita (not my boss) but then I would feel guilty about THAT because I still have a home that is still standing…that is not flooded…I know where my children are. I still have my job and my car and a bed, not a cot.

But since I need to laugh, let’s make fun of my life. It’s always SO much more fun that way:

I have a MIL that really must think that I don’t know what the hell I’m doing as a mother because she just can’t seem to shut up. I’m thinking she may have a form of Turrets. But instead of any foul language and expletives, it is all about BUTTING IN. I feel I should consult a doctor on her behalf that will drug her with the good drugs. I’m all about the drugging…

I have a three year old that WILL.NOT.POOP. Something about the very idea of pooping does NOT scare the poop out of her. This is a huge road block in our quest for full potty-training accomplishments. You CANNOT get accepted into college if you are scared to poop.

I almost had a heart attack yesterday. Full on cardiac arrest because work has driven me to that point the past two weeks. I worked until 10:30 on Tuesday night because “someone” keeps making mistakes and that “someone” is NOT ME. Yesterday went to pot and I thought that I had ruined everyone’s life because of the way I had done something. I should note that I did it how I was told…but we all know how that works, don’t we. So things really DID go to pot but then got better because they all realized that I was PERFECT and did everything right…and that really is all that matters.

I had to skip out on a planned trip to Jamba Juice because Paige’s attitude prevented such a trip. Being a parent is HARD when you really, really, really want a Jamba and then your child you are treating to Jamba has a complete attitude and is rude to her mother and then you have to cancel the Jamba trip because children can’t be rewarded for bad behavior! Curses! Coincidentally, I also won the Worst Mother of the Year award for that one. I’d like to thank all the “little” people…

My husband sent me flowers last week and it wasn’t my birthday or our anniversary. The card said, “I hope this cheers up your day!! Love, Your Husband” and I’m seriously typing it word for word. What it should have said: “I am a complete ASS. You are the queen of the world and I shall worship the ground that you walk on because I am a COMPLETE ASS.” But of course, he would have to mean it and let the worshipping begin. He would also need to duct tape his mother’s mouth closed. That would score points.

I’d also like to note that there is a ‘fundraising event’ for the wicked preschool tonight that I really don’t want to go to but that I said that I would. It’s at a small, local amusement park complete with children’s noises and parents you want to strangle. I’m sure Oozie Lady and her pose will be there and I will feel sheepish. I did see O.L. last night as soccer practice, and that went very well…but still. She might feel safer in her pack and attack me. I also just want to go home and sleep because I really just want to sleep all that missed sleeping I have missed with the not sleeping.

And also, I want still want a Jamba.

But here’s hoping for a better week. I just don’t think I can handle another one like this one has been. I also don’t think that I can stay awake anymore. You think anyone will look for me if I hide in the supply closet?

Unexpected Montana Lingo

2005-09-22T08:18:00.000-07:00

“They's lucky you showed up today, Dawg.”

“I expected the "ya'lls" and "y'hears" from the Montana influence. You've thrown me for a loop with the Ebonics.”

“Yo, I'm still in touch with my homies back in S-Town.”

I swear, if she comes home at Christmas wearing flannel plaid AND a do-rag…you can put ME out of my misery.

Did I Go Too Far?

2005-09-21T00:02:00.000-07:00

I dealt with the oozie holding Mrs. Cleaver the best way I know how. I wrote a letter. And while that simple act puts me one step closer to becoming my father, it’s how I can say what I mean and feel without letting my emotions get in the way. I didn’t hold back. I let loose.

Well, I pissed her off. HER…the one that pissed ME off. And after the hour long conversation I had with her resolved all of our issues, I’m left feeling guilty for attacking her…even though I felt attacked too.

In this big game of Life, with the current generation, there will continually be this war between moms who stay home with their kids and moms that go to a job outside of the home. I work damn hard at my job and then go home and work damn hard for my kids. But I don’t think that stay at home moms work any less hard. Our lives are just different. Moms that work outside the home constantly feel judged for what they are NOT doing instead of what they are. And I would guess that stay at home moms feel judged for the very fact that they choose to stay home with their kids.

Why can’t we have the best of both worlds?

I offended Oozie Lady because I mentioned that the preschool was geared towards moms who stay home. (And it is.) But she felt I was putting a negative connotation on stay at home moms…when really, I’m frustrated with the dynamics of the preschool. I WISH I could stay home with my kids. I do. But right now that isn’t an option and I have to work hard to find balance in my crazy life.

But the craziest part of this whole battle is that we really are on the same team: Working hard for our kids and family. There is absolutely nothing wrong with that and still there continues to be judgment. I feel badly for not seeing that, even though now I am glad that Oozie Lady sees my side of the story, too. But wouldn’t it have been easier to respect the positions we are both in? Respect the “job” that each of us does. To just respect each mother and how hard they work for their family.

I’m done battling.

The Straw That Broke the Camel's Back

2005-09-19T16:32:00.000-07:00

I hate my daughter’s preschool. Alright, that’s not true. I hate the PARENTS at my daughter’s preschool. Yeah, that about covers it. Oddly enough, I hate some of the same parents that were there when Paige went to that damn school too. I should’ve known better when I saw all those women poppin’ out kids around the same time Abby was born.

My stupidity has been noted. I’m an idiot. Let’s move on.

The thing is, I LOVE the preschool as a school. LOVE the program. LOVE the teachers. I HATE being punished for being a working mom. All those self-absorbed, stay-at-home communists make me feel like such a loser. And before all, you know, five of you start in on me about how I shouldn’t LET people make me feel this way, you really have to meet some of these moms. They are like Mrs. Cleaver...with fangs and an oozie.

I’m not joking.

They can take something so simple as…oh, I don’t know…DOING THE LAUNDRY FOR THE PRESCHOOL and turn it into restoring World Order for all the three and four year olds in the land. Complete with fangs and oozies. World order for preschool aged children warrants those, I guess.

I am THIS close to pulling Abby out of that school because it’s only the third week of school and I’m already contemplating homicide. Sure, Abby’s been on the waiting list for this school since she was a baby…but OH MY GOSH. Homicide, people! I just can’t take these people any more!

Maybe I should just stick them in a cage with my mother in-law and let them fight to the death, Gladiator style. My mother in-law will win, of course…but it WILL keep her occupied for at least a full day…maybe two.

How I Spent My Summer Vacation

2005-09-15T18:08:00.000-07:00

Click on the picture or here to see my trip to the coast...I now have a big head thinking I'm an excellent photagrapher. Please remind me not to quit my day job.

Sarah's Wedding...I Haven't Forgotten

2005-09-15T16:37:00.000-07:00

This could take years to document everything. There is just SO MUCH to discuss! First of all, the Bachlorette Party that could really be described as “An Evening at Sarah’s House.” We had a lovely time…but did NOTHING of your traditional or expected Bachlorette Partying. Since none of us are your average or traditional anything…this suited us JUST PERFECT. We beaded things, ate pizza, gabbed and laughed, and I learned why the color of your eyebrows were SO important. Well, informative, at least. It was a fun beginning to what will go down in history as: SARAH’S WEDDING: The Event.

The actual wedding took place on a Thursday at the Oakland Temple. As soon as Tif, my gram and I pulled onto the freeway, lo and behold it was Sarah and Dustin flyin’ up behind us. Funny, we “followed” them all the way to the temple and were there incredibly early being that only 1/3 of us were actually going inside the temple. Tif and I stayed outside and “primped” while we waited. It was so wonderful to see Sarah walk out of that temple so happy and so married, just as she’s always wanted.

She was a stunning bride.

And dang...were the bridesmaids not THE CUTEST?

I could go on and on about the craziness of getting the church ready for the reception…but it is crazier than I should subject you too. ;) The best part of the prep was hanging out with my friends that I never get to hang out with. As nutty as we all felt, it was so much fun to be silly with those gals. It was also a blessing that we could give Sarah the best reception possible…to see her so happy. And damn, I’m proud of this cake table…

a collaborative effort by Jaimee, Tif, Jaye, me and Sonja. THAT just takes the cake. (hardy har har…)

There were the wickedly funny moments like when Dustin’s best man kept calling him “Justin” or when there were asses to be kicked by this MoH and I did just that or when Sarah danced provocatively with her new husband and her mother about fainted… “I’m married, Mom!” or when the lesbians and sinners showed up wondering if the church was going to actually fall ON them. It was an event filled with craziness and wonderfulness…and I’m so glad we all survived getting Sarah married. Love you, Girl...congratulations!

Someday I Will Post About Where I've Been and About Sarah's Wedding...

2005-09-13T22:06:00.000-07:00

When I was probably 12 years old (or so) my sisters and I watched this made for TV movie called "In a Child's Name." It's one of those warm and fuzzy movies that makes you just want to watch it over and over again. You know, complete with boy meets girl...boy marries girl...boy beats girl to death with his free-weights which leaves blood all over the house so that when the police use the glow in the dark chemical stuff, the entire house GLOWS. And I don't mean a Light Bright, "WOW that's a cool little light" light. No...this movie had to take it to the next "glowing" level to give it that "real life" flare.

Did I mentioned the entire house GLOWED? Yeah...and that's just the first half of the movie.

I remember my mom coming out to the living room annoyed that we were still awake and told us to go to bed. This is of course after the last scene (of the first half of the movie) was the parents of the killer coming to stay at the house (where the bastard kills his wife) with the couples infant son that they're taking care of while their bastard of a son is in jail and on trial for the murder OF THE BABY'S MAMA. Well, good 'ol gramps and grannie get all ready to sleep in the room and when they turn off the lights the entire room GLOWS. Which means, of course, the blood was EVERYWHERE...F*R*E*A*K*Y*

So as my mom forced us to bed, we had visions of murderers in our heads. Falling right to sleep was not going to happen. Especially once my mom turned off the light and the glow in the dark frisbee that I got from who knows were started GLOWING in the distance. I can still remember how freaked out I was.

So as I'm flipping throught the channels tonight, I come accross this very same movie on one of the Lifetime channels...right at the part where the bastard beats his wife with the weights. I screamed and hurried to change the channel. And even if the scream was only in my head...go HEAVENS I could not watch that movie if I ever wanted to fall asleep tonight.

And foolish chicken that I am, as I am explaining the story to Alonso (and as he laughs at the glow in the dark frisbee) he says, "Yeah. And then after the granparents turn off all the lights they just happen to have a black-light turned on so that they can see all this supposed glowing, 'cause you need a black-light for it to glow."

Yeah...like a 12 year old would think of that. Hell...this 27 year old didn't think of that. NO MORE COURT TV FOR THAT MAN.

OOPS...She Did It Again!

2005-09-13T10:40:00.000-07:00

I am working on a post to explain my blogging absence and what has been preventing me from the blogging world. As Sarah would say, I’ve been ALL KINDS of busy! However, I know that a MIL story is long overdue…and I will deliver:

Last night, I was making smoothies for the family. We are a smoothie loving family and have become experts at making them. My in-laws purchased this protein-powder stuff to add to our smoothies from The Costco. It sounds weird, but it’s actually good. The last time they purchased it, my father in-law grabbed the CHOCOLATE kind instead of VANILLA.

It’s amazing he’s allowed to breathe without permission after pulling a stunt like that.

MIL wasted no time getting all annoyed at FIL for grabbing the wrong flavor and made sure we knew that SHE. DID. NOT. DO. THIS. She would NEVER grab the wrong thing. EVER.

As I made smoothies last night, I grabbed the CHOCOLATE powder and mentioned to MIL how I like this flavor better. Much better. She agrees with me. Says that SHE LIKES THE CHOCOLATE FLAVOR BETTER, TOO!

Says, “It’s good that WE made the mistake and bought the “wrong” kind.”

And So To Bed...

2005-08-28T22:32:00.000-07:00

Sarah's married, I'm pooped...I found out that a friend of mine has a famous sister...and apparently I send my children to Lesbian Boot Camp. It's been a busy couple of days.

I will give the juicy details...but I'm just too tired now. I'm going to got "watch" Finding Nemo with Abby. It will be so interesting this time around. Abby asked what happend to Nemo's mom and my answer of "she died" wasn't good enough. After the third or fourth time, I changed my answer and said, "she went to heaven." After pondering this answer for a minute Abby says,

"Did she get stuck?"

Everybody Wang Chung Tonight

2005-08-19T13:34:00.000-07:00

To celebrate Paige’s birthday, she had a slumber party with three of her friends. To avoid the potential drama that almost always follows and eight year old’s slumber part, I wanted to have quite the itinerary for those girls to avoid any questionable happenings. I roped Sarah and Noelle into my evil scheme and planned the Extreme Makeover – Slumber Party Edition for that night. I have to say (insert tooting my own horn here) that the party was a huge success. Sarah did make-up (complete with beauty tips for each girl) while Noelle did nails (did you know that eight year old girls LOVE having their nails alternate colors?) and then I did hair. And the whole reason that I’m writing about this is to brag that one of the girls said, and I quote: “This is THE BEST SLUMBER PARTY I HAVE EVER BEEN TO!”

Yes, that’s right…I, like, threw the best, like, slumber EVAR! And dudes, we hadn’t even started the karaoke yet!

KARAOKE…probably the scariest and the most fun word there is. And that’s just the spelling of it. (Thank Bob for spell check.) I don’t think I could even begin to describe the decibel of squeal once the K-word was spoken. It was at that moment I knew that there would be a Hillary Duff or Cheetah Girls song stuck in my head for the next 3 days…because eight year old girls LOVE to do the same song over and over and over and over. It’s part of their charm.

But what really takes the cake (and boy can those midgets pound back the cake!) is when Paige pulls one of the magazines I’m in from the counter to show her friends my ad. (I keep all the “publications” handy just in case important company comes over. You know, like the Pope…Ralph Lauren…or that kid who plays Urkel.) She opens that magazine, points to my picture and tells her friends, “LOOK. It’s my MOM! SHE’S FAMOUS!”

And, well…far be it for me to crush the hopes and dreams of the birthday girl so I decided to play along. Of course, by playing along I mean that this “famous mom” worked her “famous” self to the bone putting on The Best Slumber Party EVER complete with pizza, root beer and Funfetti cake and slept in the living room to make sure all was okay. And by golly, it’s a good thing that nothing did happen…’cause I just slept right on through it all.

But see, what really is starting to bug me about the whole thing is that since I am SUCH a famous mom then why am I sitting at my desk, staring out at the river with not ONE of those fantastic boats cruising area being mine??

They must not realize that it is ME on the back of that bus they are following. Perhaps I should invite them to Paige’s NEXT slumber party. She’ll set them straight.

I Think This is Why Paige and I Have a Great Love For the Land That is Disney

2005-08-17T08:19:00.000-07:00

I’m all out of cotton balls. A huge bag of cosmetic puffs…gone. This could have something to do with it:

Paige has become obsessed with cleaning her newly pierced ears with the Costco sized bottle of ear cleaner that you get from Claire’s Boutique. If there was any concern of whether or not she was responsible enough to get her ears pierced it is laughed at now. Paige puts the response AND the ability in Responsibility. Clean and turn. Clean and turn. She’s got it down. And she never forgets. She even carries the bottle and a (now depleted) supply of cotton balls around JUST IN CASE some disastrous, dirt filled something should even look at her ears.

Seriously, where did I get this child?

Eight years ago this week, I was on vacation with Alonso and his family in Southern California. I was EIGHT months pregnant traipsing around Knott’s Berry Farm, Disneyland and Universal Studios. I was HUGE. I was my own main attraction at each theme park we went to. People would stare. I would waddle. When I find the picture of me and Winnie the Pooh, I will post it. There is quite the debate about who is larger…and I was NOT wearing any type of costume or fat suit. Yes, the word you are thinking is WOW.

It was at that time that my love for Pirates of the Caribbean became GREAT as it was the ONLY ride that I could go on and it was my FIRST trip to Disneyland. It was also when my addiction to the Lemon Ice progressed to an obsession because THAT WAS ALL I WANTED because it was so blasted hot. Lucky for me you can get those little pieces of Heaven at EACH theme park we went to.

In the middle of the night before we were to head home, the-Little-Paigie-in-my-Tummy started a water balloon fight with me and woke me up. She felt appropriate that Southern California was to be her place of birth, even though her new home would be 600+ miles away AND SHE WAS NEARLY A MONTH EARLY!! It took me a little bit to wake The Dude (alonso. Alonso. ALONSO. ALONSO I THINK MY WATER JUST BROKE!!!) and then we woke the household so we could find a hospital to deliver this water balloon throwing child. Alonso’s cousins (who we were staying with) were all in a flutter and just could not understand how we could be so calm. Well, I’ll tell you why:

YOUNG and DUMB.

Ironically enough, my sister was staying mere miles away (while the rest of my family was THOUSANDS of miles away in Montana) from the hospital I was admitted to with her best friend and her family. She was able to hop on over to the hospital while I was in labor. And was even there to witness when I kicked everyone out of my room because my father in-law kept talking to me/asking me questions during contractions. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but contractions are a tad distracting. Especially Pitocin induced contractions which mean there are NO BREAKS. There really should be signs in hospitals that say, “Don’t talk to her while contractions are happening! It will just get you kicked out of the room!!”

Fourteen hours and a nearly empty room later, Paige Marie entered this world and started her mission of blessing everyone she comes in contact with. She was our little brown baby…my mom even called her “our little Egyptian Princess” the first time she saw her. The weird thing is that I don’t remember the exact moment she was born. I remember pretty much everything else (like, how freaked out Alonso cut the umbilical cord) except for her first moment in the world. Crazy, huh? Once everyone was permitted to enter back into the room, Alonso and Jaye were leaning over the baby container and Alonso was very concerned about all the “bruising” on Paige. Jaye leans forward to get a better look and says, “It’s HAIR, you Idiot!”

And on that Sunday evening, Alonso, Paige and I became a family of three. A very young family, just starting out together…but a family just the same. And in those moments, there were no worries of our families, of how we were going to do this, or even how were going to get home with this tiny newborn when home was hundreds of miles away. There was just Paige.

Paige was the miracle of life, the miracle of forgiveness and the miracle of love all wrapped up in a beautiful (brown baby) package. I couldn’t have asked for anything more amazingly wonderful…it was more than I’ll ever deserve. And yet here she was…and still is.

Happy Birthday, Paigie-Pooh…you truly are one in a million.

Love, Mommy

A History - Part 2

2005-08-15T10:28:00.000-07:00

While Alonso’s cousins were in town, we gave Paige an option to get her ears pierced while they were here. If she made the decision NOT to get her ears pierced that day, the offer would be forfeited and the timelines for ear piercing would go back to 10 years of age.

Being the bright girl that she is, Paige jumped on that chance and RAN with it. (Wouldn’t you?)

When we arrived home that night, MIL was ECSTATIC with the new additions to Paige’s ears…and told her that NOW SHE WAS A REAL GIRL.

The mind reels that there would be more to this story after THAT, but there is.

After the above remark (and I did scold her for it) she was talking to other family members at the kitchen table. I was pulling incredibly HOT pizzas out of the oven, but overheard her make yet another comment that made me FLY OUT OF MY SKIN. She actually made the comment (in Spanish, so I had to confirm what she said with Alonso’s cousin later) that she broke the rule of Paige getting her ears pierced before 10 and would do it with Abby, too.

WHO SAYS THIS KIND OF SHIT??!! Even if you say it in Spanish (which I prefer not to) IT STILL MEANS THE SAME DAMN THING!!!

Not only was she so NOT involved in the decision making process WHATSOEVER (and still she takes full credit somehow) she also plans on INTENTIONALLY THWARTING ANY AND ALL RULES THAT ALONSO AND I SET FORTH???!!

Seriously, if ever anyone needed a STIFF DRINK…or a lovely cocktail of Crazy People Pills…yeah, that’s me.

JP & The MIL...A History

2005-08-12T10:34:00.000-07:00

WARNING: I’m laying it ALL out on the table here. My aim is to throw in sarcasm and humor to add to the enjoyment of this history…because I’m a big fan of sarcasm and humor. Especially when dealing with MIL. There will be MUCH WRITING IN CAPS, BOLDS AND MAYBE EVEN ITALICS. You have been warned.

They say that history is written by whoever “wins” the battle, the war or, you know…who has the ability to actually write. Because of this, history sometimes is slanted because the views and opinions expressed by that winning party aren’t necessarily the facts of what really happened. So when I say that I’m winning the battle (not yet the war) with my in-laws, they have absolutely no clue. This history is written by the self-proclaimed winner…and, well, they have not clue how to even work a computer, let alone BLOG anything.

I first must give some background. I LOVE MY MIL. I really do. She honestly thinks she knows and does what’s best. That reason alone is why I don’t shove that tiny Mexican woman into Barbie’s dream house and find a way to lock her in there. FOREVER. Her partner in crime is my father in-law. (Can you write FIL? I am, now.) FIL is THE nicest man. He’s THE nicest man who will drive you TO ABSOLUTE MADNESS. It really is quite amazing that the two of them haven’t driven me to the pink or yellow pills. Gold star for…for someone. The past two to three weeks have been very eye opening for me. Not speaking to the MIL was not really key in winning the battles…but it sure helped my tactical plan. It helped if only for the fact that SHE KNEW I WAS PISSED.

SHE KNEW I MEANT WAR!

For eight (plus) years I’ve been trying to figure out how to deal with the dynamics of Alonso’s family. I haven’t even scratched the surface. However, what I do know with a certainty that CANNOT be denied is MIL thinks that HER WAY IS ALWAYS THE RIGHT WAY. (Insert warning: underlined word may also show up.) May I direct your attention to Marie Barone of “Everybody Love Raymond”…there are alarming similarities. In more ways than ONE. I will NEVER keep house, cook, raise my kids, or love her son LIKE SHE THINKS IT SHOULD BE DONE. I know she loves me…but I know that she can’t STAND me doing things my way. OH, MY BLOOD PRESSURE!! For example…

Story/Battle 1:
Alonso and I getting married. FIL & MIL disagree with the timeline of us getting married. Said they weren’t going to go to the wedding in efforts to prove their point. THEY CHOOSE OUR WEDDING TO START THE PROVING A POINT PROCESS! I am a stressed out mess and just can’t understand. They show up just as the wedding is to start. The FOCUS is all about them…how good they showed up. Comment is made by MIL how I should never forget this, what she's done for us. Forget how you totally just made my wedding day the biggest joke of the planet? Nope! I WILL NEVER FORGET THAT! I’m obviously still working on the forgiveness side of that story.
BATTLE RESULTS: They won. I did NOT read them their rights like I should have.

Story/Battle 2:
Young me, of nineteen or twenty, with a young Paigie-Baby…deciding that working full-time and trying to figure out the whole married and new mom life would not fit me MAKING all the baby food that Paige would be eating. Gerber does have a small market on baby food; I figured we’d be alright. MIL disagreed telling me making the baby food shows the baby more love. (See? Not enough love for the children.) In my passive/aggressive manner, I leave for work and then ask my mom to watch Paige that day because I just didn’t know what to do…I was so angry.
BATTLE RESULTS: I won, for proving my point…but she did make Paige food when I wasn’t there. Sneaky little Crazy that she is.

Story/Battle 3:
Fast forward to this past May. FIL & MIL take Paige to a family party…Alonso and I stay home with puking Abby. MIL comes home just beside herself and says: “You need to do something about Paige. She is so spoiled.” EXACT WORDS. Well, exact words in her broken English. I looked straight at her (and let me just mention my BLOOD PRESSURE once again) and said, “And you don’t think that you haven’t helped her become that way??!!” AND SHE ARGUED WITH ME! She DID NOT see that her and FIL giving these girls whatever they want RESULTED in those girls BEING SPOILED!!! It was at that (shocking) moment that I truly, truly realized that SHE. DOES. NOT. GET. IT. She truly does not see any responsibility she has.
BATTLE RESULTS: A draw. I spoke my mind and didn’t back down (good job me) but MIL doesn’t GET IT and FIL cannot stand to see those girls cry.

Last Story/Battle 4:
The last story I will share (today) was the straw the broke the camel’s back and the very reason I stopped speaking to MIL & FIL. (You know, inquiring minds want to know.) While getting dinner for my children, Paige started whining about wanting more parmesan cheese. This is a small, small thing, but I had had it up to HERE with Spoiled Children Syndrome (SCS) and denied her request for MORE parmesan cheese. MIL GAVE HER MORE CHEESE AFTER I HAD ALREADY SAID NO!!!! I looked at the two of them, was so angry I was seeing red and said to them, “I AM DONE.” And then I walked away fearing that I would take off my shoe and start beating the tiny Mexican woman. Those were the last words I spoke to her for over a week, unless she specifically asked me a question.
BATTLE RESULTS: I won. They knew I was pissed and walked on eggshells around me. When Abby asked for more juice, MIL told her to ask me if it was okay. WE’RE MAKING PROGRESS PEOPLE!!!

The WAR is not over by any means. My anger level is dangerously high even when even telling these stories and I’m learning how do deal with that. I have been growing a spine and really trying to move away from my passive/aggressive tendencies. I’m feeling more confident and am getting so much better at addressing problems as they happen. It is progression. We’re moving forward. I am moving forward. I need to share that.

I AM moving forward.

Agent Orange in My Back Yard

2005-08-09T08:06:00.000-07:00

Ever heard ‘bout a little somethin’ called West Nile Virus? Huh…me either. But for SOME REASON, it would seem that folks ‘round these parts are thunkin’ that we gots to be mighty careful about them pesky ‘skeeters and their viruses.

Hence the airplane sized bottle of OFF® spraying guck all over the surrounding area last night. And it wasn’t so much an airplane sized bottle as it was an airplane flying all over and spraying the Mosquito’s version of Agent Orange all over the county and a little beyond.

And here I thought second-hand smoke was going to kill me!

This supposed “natural” substance is supposed to “naturally” kill off (or let’s say REDUCE) the bad, bad mosquito of the valley. Excuse me while I don’t believe them as I watch this third arm suddenly growing from between my shoulder blades.

I guess they were right about the fast acting part.

We're Gonna Party Like It's Your Birthday

2005-08-06T09:41:00.000-07:00

While I don't have any pictures (yet) from Kaycee's wedding last night (she looked AMAZING!) I do have a special shout out to the birthday girl who will have her own special day in a matter of weeks.

So Happy, Happy Birthday Sarah Dear...love you bigger than the Beatles.