Saturday, December 29, 2012

Sammy's Turn

Mama told me it's my turn to write the Christmas letter this year. She didn't do a Christmas card because she "couldn't find good pictures of the human boys". She has pictures of Abby- AKA the PRINCESS watching TV, but none of her children? Notice in the picture there is a handsome, friendly dog laying on the floor. Does that one get any attention? NOOOO only the "genius" who watches puppies on TV...
To be honest, we, the dogs ARE around a lot more than those human kids are. Well, here's a re-cap of my year. Max and I get our hair cut at least every four months or so. Maxie HATES going there. He runs in and hides under the counter. I run in happy because I know they've been missing me. We look and smell great when we are done. Abby doesn't get to go. Probably because she runs away too much. Abby had to get half of her teeth pulled. She had to stay overnight at the place of fear and shots. I bet she had her teeth taken out because she barks so much. Mama tells me I bark too much, I guess I better stop or I'll lose my teeth too. I like to make my humans happy by going outside and coming right back in every few minutes. They just love opening that door for me. Sometimes I get tired of that game, but it makes them so happy so I do it all day long. I try to do it at night, but they are "sleeping". Mama and the boys were home when it was hot outside. I like that. When it gets colder they leave and I don't like that. I sit at the top of the steps and silently cry all day. Mama thinks I need my own pet to keep me company. She keeps talking about a "kitten". I saw one of those at the place of fear once and it scared me. I tried to run away from it. We got a new fence for the backyard. I don't like it as much as the old one because I can't see a thing on the other side anymore. It doesn't stop me from barking to scare away any imaginary intruders though. One day the shorter human boy left gate open and Abby, Max and I ran away! We ran and ran. Then Max and I got scared and came back. Maxie hid in the garage and I went right back through the gate, ran up the steps and went to the deck door. That is usually where I find mama. See, I'm the smart dog.  Abby kept running. That's cuz she's a little bitch. The humans found her. I bet she'll lose more teeth for that one. All of the boys at my house talk about basketball or football all of the time. They watch it on TV too, but only if "Princess" is done watching her puppy shows. Mama talks about "school", whatever that is. Mama was also sad last summer because she lost another uncle and her aunt Harriett. I should help her find them. They are probably in the back yard where I lose all of my toys. Another game everyone loves is "throwing the ball". Those humans can throw that ball all day long. I make them happy by running to get it for them to throw again. Abby and Max don't. Abby runs to it, stares at it and can't pick it up because she doesn't have teeth. Max just watches the humans throw the ball. He doesn't even try to make them happy. That's what makes me the better dog. Well, I'm getting tired of typing and it's been awhile since I let the humans play "open the door". AT least I play with them. I better get back to it, or "Princess" will become top dog. Happy New Year. 


Saturday, November 24, 2012

Post Thanksgiving

I was going to post these pictures on FaceBook, but there was an article in the Fourm where ladies said, pictures with "shaming" signs on their pets is humiliating to the pet. Really? They constantly lick their butts in front of me, they even lick each other's butts. I'm pretty sure they don't understand humiliation. Plus, they all wagged their tails when I took the pictures, well except Sam, I had to wait for him to go to sleep because he didn't like the feel of the tape on his fur- or maybe he was humiliated? Either way, I don't need those animal rights activists after me.
What does a teacher do with 5 days off from school and obviously too much time on her hands? Take pictures of the dogs and speak for them of course. You may notice Abby is wet. Why? Well because she ran away and got all muddy. Why would Max be wet, you may be asking. Well. Maxie likes to jump into the tub. You should have seen his look of surprise when he found out it was full of water and puppy shampoo.   This November marked Max's fifth birthday and the fourth anniversary of getting Sammy. That means in the last three out of 12 years I have not been potty training something or someone. I think that means I should get a baby kitten. The mean grown up man who lives at my house said, "hell no" to Ethan's and my request for a new puppy, but you never know. Maybe under the tree this year I'll find a baby kitten to potty train. Or a cleaning lady. I hope the cleaning lady is already potty trained, as long as she doesn't pee on my floor and cleans it up if she does, who am I to judge?
As I said, I had FIVE days off. During those five days, I've accomplished very little. I did go see my "happy doctor" to renew my bitch-be-gone pills. She wanted me to get stronger ones, but I opted for the fish-oil placebo pills and trying to find a hobby instead. She had me chart out my day on a spread sheet. Black was for school, doing school work at home, and thinking about work- also known as "being scared the naughty children will eat me alive". There was A LOT of black. Orange was for sports related times; being at a sporting event, listening to sport talk, and having to watch sports on TV. I don't like sports, so we changed that color to brown, being it's dull for me. Red is for cooking and cleaning. Both things I don't really enjoy. If I could clean and it would stay that way, I'd like it more- same with the cooking. I'd like to cook once a week and call it good. But BOYS - ALL of them- don't clean up after themselves and they keep insisting on eating, especially now that Michelle Obama is starving them at school. I was supposed to have pink, my favorite color, be my "me/fun time". I had no pink. Happy doctor, who usually just blinks at me and says nothing, told me I "had to find a hobby", and apparently drinking is not one she medically approves of. I threw out a few more examples, reading-but it makes me more tired than I am and pink time turns into blue/sleep time. Scrap booking- but that make me more anxious, calling for more medication/fish oil/beer because I am overwhelmed by how far behind I am (5 plus years). Painting the walls in my house, which ARE more fun than scraping wall paper, but it's a big job and I need to undertake this hobby thing with baby steps. Jewelry making is the one that won out. I found jewelry making is a very expensive hobby (much more than Coors Light) and I may need a part-time job to support my "hobby", which I don't have time for right now the way it is. I did buy some beads and supplies, and I don't want to let the cat out of the bag, but all the moms of the player's on Noah's Cougar team is going to get an EXCITING black and orange gift for Christmas.

Sunday, October 28, 2012

Fortune Teller

I recently returned from a trip to Vegas, and we all know what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. That and if you are in Vegas for three days, you are there two days too long. I could have just as much fun going to Dilworth for a lot less money. But I was in Vegas, so when in Vegas act like the crazies who are also there. Maybe that's why I did something I swore I'd never do. Nope, it's not prostituting myself out, staying sober for a four hour stretch, or going "commando". It was paying good money for "a reading". I have a sneaking suspicion psychics say general comments, judge your reaction and run with it. So, I saw the sign "10.00 for a palm reading, 20.00 for a tarot card reading." I walked through the curtain of beads into the "buggy" and sat down. I handed her a $20 dollar bill and asked for the palm reading. She said, "Are you sure you don't want a card reading? It is more detailed." I said, "Ok. Sure." She laid out the cards and began. "The things I tell you are not to personally hurt you. You must understand this." I nodded thinking, "oh crap... I've been paranoid all these months for good reason."  She continued, "You will live a long life, well into your 80s or 90s." That's not a stretch, the expected life span for a woman is in her 80s. "I am picking up that you have a good heart. You are a good person." This is something I've been struggling with a lot - i.e. CONSUMED with lately. Too many people have been telling me I'm not a good person, so I've been obsessing about it. This brought tears to my eyes, but I tried desperately to hide it and stay with a flat expression. and thought- great, THIS is what she'll run with. "I sense you are feeling torn in two directions  your heart tells you one thing and your head tells you another, this is causing great unhappiness. You have a friend telling you to go in one directions, but the decision must be your own and you must take your time in making the decision. You are afraid you will get hurt if you go with your heart, but within the next 18 months you will be happy. You value love above money or material things. You are saving up for something (she got that because I was only going to pay for the 10.00 reading when I had a $20), it will take you a very long time to save. (Because I caved and gave her the 20). I see three trips in the next 18 months for you. These with be trips for pleasure, not business, and you are happy and with friends. I see a career change and a move across country in your future.You are very happy with your new career and move. (What?? I'm getting fired?! I would never move away from Moorhead while the kids are in school) I see you miss a friend deeply, but are scared of reconnecting because you don't want to get hurt. You are most afraid of being hurt emotionally (duh... isn't everyone?) You will have someone from your past connect with you in the next 18 months who needs help. I sense you do not respect this person, or their choices. You should help them financially, but do not get emotionally involved, or you will be hurt." I'm thinking, "I can't help anyone financially, I'm getting fired" As she continued, "You have to dip into the money you are saving to help this person, but consider it as paying to get this person out of your life forever." Who am I hooked up with? The mob? "You have two children. (that part was like-woo-woo- weird... maybe she is for real, but in reality, most people who have children have two) your children will be OK. They will always be alright." That was the end. Now I am going to read this post in a year and a half and see how much is true. Oh- and now I know, I'm not just paranoid, people really ARE out to get me.

Sunday, September 9, 2012

Happy Birthday Ethan

Ethan is 10 years old. I don't have any kids in single digits anymore. I'll only have him for another nine years. I miss him already. I knew at the end the of Summer of 2011, it would be my last summer of my baby and me. This last summer he hung out with me, but I know he secretly wanted to be with his friends. A year ago I was his best friend. Now he tells me Abby and I are neck and neck in the running of his best friend that's a girl. I did remind him that I carried him for nine months and changed his diapers, got up in the middle of the night, and I buy him stuff. But he said Abby is softer. On his birthday we made cupcakes when I got home from school, then he opened his presents. He is getting so grown-up. It makes me sad. I have to remind him that he used to love me so much he said when I die, he'd bury me in the back yard, so he can dig me up every day to see me. Now he says "that's really gross". I thought it was sweet. Every once in awhile I see a snipit of little Ethan. The little "Bonk-O-Zonks" in front of him are one inch plastic figures. He made a tournament of them racing the other night and he was talking for them, to himself, and cheering for them. It made me smile. Ethan is a good kid. He's so sensitive to other people hurting, he's so sweet, and smart and funny. He loves animals and his big brother so much. The other day he told me he didn't know if he wanted to be a vet, or basketball player when he grows up. I told him he should be a pediatrician, and he said, "I really don't like a lot of kids that much..."  Ethan is still my buddy. I love him so much. I'll try to keep him little as long as I can.

Once Again...

I know- I'm wearing too much make-up.
Sometimes Abby doubles as a football.
He's the handsomest 12-year-old I know.
Once again I am wishing my life away. Now that school has started for the boys, we are insanely busy. Ethan has football practice Monday, Tuesday and Thursday nights from 6:00- 7:30. A game every other Monday night from 5:00- 7:30 and games Saturday mornings which last two and a half hours. Both boys have Sunday school on Sunday. Noah has Wednesday morning Sunday school for confirmation, along with Wednesday night confirmation activities from 5:30-9:00. He also has practice every day from 4:00 (right when school gets out) until 6:00. Two to three days a week he plays football from 5:30-7:30. So Wednesdays for Noah look like this; Wake up at 7:00. Confirmation 8:00-8:50, school 9:05-3:55, football 4:00-6:00, confirmation 5:30 (yes, I KNOW they overlap) until 9:00. When is the kid supposed to eat or do homework? I know it was our choice to put him in football and confirmation, but it seems like you really can't do both. Also, 7th grade is soo much harder. Noah is in the advanced classes- which again is out choice, but every teacher takes the "half hour of homework each night" as "half hour of homework in every one of your seven classes each night." I just keep thinking, if we can make it through September and into the middle of October we'll be fine. There you go- wishing away my life. I decided to take it one week at a time, but that's still wishing it all away.

I think I am a little autistic. I'm taking an autism class and I read the first chapter and a half. At times, I think it describes me to a tee. I always eat my Skittles in this order; orange, green, red, yellow, blue and then purple- except I leave one orange for last because they are my favorites. I have to eat them in that order because it's complimentary colors. I also eat my vitamin gummies in order too. All of the reds first, then orange, then yellow, then purple. And I have issues with my feet. If I think my feet are at all dirty, sweaty, smelly or sticky, I have to wash them before I climb into bed. I can't wear flip-flops where the shoe strap touches between my toes because it gives me a stomach ache. I also fixate a little on the seem on my socks if it's touching the tips of my toes. When that happens, I can't quit moving my toes. I can't help it. I don't throw a tantrum or anything if I can't have my skittles or vitamins a certain way, but I do know I will have three weeks of bad luck if I eat them in the wrong order, and I could never fall asleep if my feet weren't just right. Another thing- I have to say "The Hail Mary" after I say the Lord's Prayer- even when I'm at my LUTHERAN church, a weeding or a funeral. I think if I don't give Mary her due attention God will send me straight to hell. That may not be an autistic thing but a weird Catholic thing. Some priest probably told me that once. You know them- always wanting to weed out who gets to go to Heaven, as if it'll get too crowded and they won't be allowed in.
Hopefully the next six weeks will go by quickly, my baby will have time to do homework AND confirmation, and my autism class will teach me how to be normal.
Thoughts I think: I used to have super powers, but then my therapist took them away.

Monday, September 3, 2012


As I was sitting at Harriett's funeral I noticed something. Light olive green is the new black. To avoid crying I count stuff sometimes, and out of the 67 people at the funeral, 15 of them wore a light shade of olive green, and 11 of the 15 were my relatives. My child was one of them, little did I know I was setting him up to be in fashion. I guess I like green. I like black better because it's slimming, but if I wear it too many days in a row Noah asks me if I am turning "goth", and the gym teacher asks why I am in mourning. Last year I told him I was in "silent protest of the school year". The funeral was nice. They didn't talk about September 11, like at my mom's funeral, or how seven maidens were late for a lunch-on with Jesus therefore were kicked out, like at my grandma's. Both topics were really stupid. Do the priests close their eyes, pick a page in the newspaper or Bible and try to make that one work? My mom was so out of it at the end, she didn't even know 9/11 happened. And my grandma's family is NOTORIOUS for being late every where, so that really one didn't make sense, unless the priest was telling us all "you fools are always late and will be banned from Heaven." Which is not comforting at all. I know what you are all thinking, 'at least being late runs in her family...' See, I really can't help it. It'd be like trying to change my eye color- which actually comes from the other side of the family. Anyway, after the funeral we all drove out to the cemetery in Downer. The cemetery is basically a "family cemetery" where a few neighbor's family members are buried as well. It's at least 2/5 Heng. While we are standing by the casket I look to my left and see my mom's foot stone. She is to the right of Harriett's husband, Johnny. Harriett's hole was not left of her husband. It was on the wrong side of the foot stone. The whole time I am thinking I've got to be wrong, but nope. They dug the wrong hole. They were about to lower the coffin when I leaned over to dad and said, "That's a foot stone, not a head stone. They dug the wrong hole." Dad told Harriett's son that she wouldn't be next to her husband. He said he "didn't care, as long as they are in the same cemetery." Dad talked to the guys who dug the hole, they were actually waiting on the road near by to cover it up- I've never noticed that before. They swore the foot stone was a head stone and started digging as if it were a head stone looking for Johnny. They dug more than seven feet down and didn't hit anything. Then they dug as if the foot stone was a foot stone and found Johnny's vault. After that, they dug the right hole for Harriett. I think I should go paint a big red x as to where dad is supposed to be when the time comes. I didn't go to the lunch-on after because I didn't want to deal with the step-monster. But I heard they served drinks, just like Harriett would have wanted.
Thoughts that I think: If I liked eating a little bit less and exercising a little bit more, I'd like my clothes and going in public more.

Good Bye Aunt Harriett

Today I said good-bye to my aunt Harriett. She lived a long, healthy, happy live. I would love to have half the adventures she had. She had  the most wonderful marriage to the love of her life,  and lived each day to the fullest. She was 92-years-old. It's only been the last few months that she hasn't felt well. She actually wore high heels up until she broke her hip five years ago. She didn't break her hip wearing heals, she broke it taking a picture of the flowers she got on her birthday. Harriett loved to talk. She would talk and talk, then cover her mouth and say, "Oh my, I'm talking too much", but then continue on talking. Her and her husband, Johnny, truly adored each other. Maybe it was because she talked so much, or because she said anything that popped into her head, but she always had knew what to say. When I lost babies, she told me, "It is the most horrible thing in the world. You'll never get over it." Then went on to tell me about the times she lost her newborn babies.It wasn't the politically correct thing to say. It really isn't something I would tell a grieving mother, but it did make me feel better. I realized it could have been worse (even though saying "it could be worse," really is the worst thing you can say), and I'll probably never get over it, but like her I can go on to live a happy live. When my mom died she said, "It's unfair that you are too young. It'll take a long time until it gets better, if ever." At the time I thought 'wow- thanks Harriett', but she was right. You just learn to live on. She was a living example of how you can't let tragedy define you. Nothing slowed her down. A few weeks before she died, she told me she was hoping to go to my cousin's wedding. I think it was a hint that she wanted me to take her. Harriett had something to say about everything, and could to relate to anything you are talking about. She worked at Hornbacher's for years in the meat department, usually handing out samples, and telling people what kind of meat and how much to serve for guests. That is actually kind-of funny, because Harriett always made the same amount of food whether she's cooking for three, or twenty. I bet there were a lot of hungry guests in Moorhead back in the day. When I started working at Hornbacher's, she was thrilled I was at her old stomping grounds, and I knew a lot of the same people. One of the people she knew was 'Alice'. Alice was a sweet, little old lady who gave out meat samples and always washed her dishes in the deli, where I worked. Actually, she didn't wash the dishes, one of us working did it for her as she talked to us. We all thought she was this sweet, tiny lady who couldn't even reach into the bottom of the sink. We loved when Alice came because she would tell us college kids how proud our parents must be and how wonderful we are. One Thanksgiving, Harriett asked me if I knew Alice. I got all excited because I loved Alice, I said, "Yes! She is so sweet!" Harriett replied in her normal tone, "Oh how I hate that woman." It was hilarious. I didn't think Harriett could hate anyone, and it was funny how calmly she said it. Turns out this woman would "steal" all of the good shifts from Harriett, and she would tell the person making the schedule that Harriett wanted her to. When I told Harriett Scott and I were going on a cruise for our honeymoon, she said, "Well I hope that lady doesn't crawl in bed with your guys like she did with Johnny and me." As if there is a lady living on the ship who goes around slipping into bed with people. I have many wonderful memories of her. In the past year, I've lost two uncles, a grandma and Harriett. I cried the night my grandma died, just because things should have been different my whole life with her- it was more out of anger. I cried a little at her funeral, because it reminded me so much of mom's funeral. At my uncles' I was sad. But Harriett's death has hit me the hardest. Of everyone who died, she was the closest. I'll miss her stories, her compliments, her nurturing, her funny ways, and her engaging personality. As she would say, "It'll take a long time to get over it."

Friday, August 3, 2012

Being a "Home Maker" is Hard

You know those women who "have it all"? They have perfect, clean children who wear matching clothes, a blissful marriage, an immaculate house, they plan, cook, and serve delicious meals every day, teach Sunday School, and workout, have perfect teeth, all while weighing 105 pounds, and dressing like a model. Why can't I do that? I must say, I do have perfect children, although they aren't always clean, and their clothes rarely match. My house is never clean, and I am far from 105 pounds. I think I took the advice I heard when I was pregnant with Noah too seriously, "You can be the perfect wife, the perfect mom, the perfect teacher, or the perfect house keeper/cook. Pick one and let the rest take care of itself." Or "Don't clean your house while your kids are little, it's like shoveling when it's still snowing." Or "When you are on your deathbed, you'll never say you wished you spent more time working (well it was either working, or working out- I took it as working out)." The piece of advice I could have taken too seriously could have been, "Make sure you take time to do something for yourself every day." Or "If you can't answer the question,'what do you do for fun daily?' something is terribly wrong." The last two came from my therapist. But now I get bitch-be-gone pills, so I shouldn't have to have fun, or time to myself to be happy. Cooking, cleaning, working out, getting braces and a whitening procedure should by all means make me ecstatic. The last piece of wisdom I got wasn't exactly advice, but a keen observation, "Sara. You are a terrible cook." It was always OK with me to not be the "woman who has it all", and be happy to ignore my imperfections. However, as I look around, EVERYONE is the woman who "has it all" except me. I'm just a frumpy, old, fat, boring, bad housewife with crocked, yellow teeth with a cavity. I used to think, they just APPEAR to be the woman who "has it all", and there is some aspect of their life that is not perfect. Nope. Now I know, they really are perfect, and I am damn jealous. So this week I decided to fake being perfect and the woman who has it all. On Monday I worked all day, making money- that's a good thing. Tuesday I stripped wallpaper until my arm was about to fall off. Wednesday I decided to organize all of my recipes, make a monthly menu of delicious and nutritious meals for supper. The menu includes two brand new recipes each week, no take-outs, and ALL meals including preparation and at least seven ingredients. On Wednesday I also went to the store to get a brace for my sore wrist, got home, realized I bought it for my RIGHT hand and I needed it for my LEFT, so I had to take it back. The cashier was a dumb-$hit. He wasn't going to let me have an even exchange, but after a ten minute discussion with the store manager he finally did, but refused to give me a receipt. I was perfect woman who has it all during that time because I wore make-up to the store, something I didn't think I needed before, but have been told maybe I should start wearing more last week. I matched, and I didn't have one mean or impatient thought. I went to two different grocery stores looking for the "Sunmart broccoli cashew salad" because it WAS on the Wednesday menu, so I better find it or make it. On Thursday I literally cleaned all damn day long. On Friday I spent the day shopping for the month's worth of recipes, as well as cooking to freeze meals to pop in the oven once school starts. I also made appointments, registered the kids for school, bought some school supplies, got an estimate for a new fence, and looked into finding three places to call about siding on Monday. I still have to finish the wallpaper, paint the entryway, the big wall in the upstairs living room, paint both bathrooms, the entire downstairs entertainment area, hallway, and my bedroom. School starts in 17 days. I can't "have it all" now, what will I do when school starts? I haven't even started laundry yet. I've been in the kitchen making all of these nutritious and delicious meals, so I spend at least an hour a day cleaning the kitchen. Speaking of the wonderful meals, I literally sat at the table tonight getting more and more mad with tears in my eyes because I made roasted garlic potatoes (I had to learn how to press garlic in order to get "fresh minced"), corn on the cob, and baked chicken that I marinated for half of the day. No one mentioned how delicious my meal was. I had to sit on my hands to avoid throwing the damn chicken across the room. I think just to make me more mad, the grown-up child even had the nerve to mention my need to lose weight.
This week I have not gone into the pool once, read my book, or watched any TV- even at night because the grown-up child at my house refuses to watch anything that remotely interests me, so I work on the dumb wall. I go to bed exhausted, and get up at 7:00, because the same grown-up thinks the dogs should be locked in the kitchen so they can bark and bark and bark and bark because he's awake.  Did I "have it all" this week? Defiantly more than any other week. Ethan wasn't always clean, but I can only nag him for so long. I didn't work-out, or weigh 105 pounds. I still have snaggly, yellow teeth with a cavity, and a crappy wardrobe, but I totally did the "house-wife" stuff. Why can't I do it? Seriously? Everyone else has their act together. I find it really hard. Cooking isn't worth the taste of the food, and it certainly isn't worth having to spend so much time cleaning up. I spent the whole day cleaning on Thursday, by Friday morning it needed it again. My house is NEVER clean and I have to keep it up by myself. I don't want to teach Sunday School. I teach Monday- Friday, why would I want to do it for free on Sunday too? Would the mailman deliver the mail for free on Sundays? No, and I would never expect him to. I secretly thinks he doesn't deliver it on Saturday either, and he just takes the it home until Monday. I don't want to work out, first of all, when would I have time? I literally only sit down when I eat my damn cooking. Also, working out isn't fun. And I'm tired. There goes the 105 pound dream, and the "non- frumpy" clothing. I can't afford braces. I'll be lucky to get my cavity filled before I go broke buying those little flossing picks to pick the stupid food out of my teeth. Food was never a big part of my life- but being the "woman with it all"- it is a major theme and I don't like it. Everyone else who "has it all" is blissfully happy. Why is it so hard, and makes me so sad? Am I just lazy? All I think of is, "Maybe tomorrow I can go in the pool, or read, or nap." But I know I can't. I have to do laundry, finish the DAMN WALL, and of course COOK, and clean. I swear, there must be some "mess up and dirty the house fairy" that stops by each night. My mom was a happy home-maker. Sure, I made supper every night (maybe the reason I hate cooking) from the age of 11 until I moved out, but she made two other big meals a day, plus baked a cake, bars and two batches of cookies each week for the 3:00 meal. I vacuumed, cleaned the bathrooms, did laundry and took out the garbage every Saturday while looking for the blue handled scissors, but she kept the house clean during the week. Her house was so clean you could eat off the floors. Today as I unpacked the dishwasher I realized my plates aren't even clean enough to eat off of.  So, if any of you know how I can "have it all" and be happy, please let me know. I need to be let in on the secret. During the week, I also spent a lot of time thinking about what it meant to "have it all" when I was little. Louise Jefferson from the "Jefferson's" had it all. She didn't work outside the house. She had Florence doing all of the cleaning, cooking, ironing and shopping. She was far from 105 pounds, but George loved her just the way she was. She probably wore dentures, and was drunk most of the time, but it didn't matter because she wore sparkly dresses. Back in the 80's we felt bad for the mom's (Alice and One Day at a Time) who had to work outside the home. We never expected them to cook, let alone clean, have perfect children, and a perfect body. When will society go back to the good ol' days of thinkin' ? Maybe I was just born in the wrong generation.

Monday, July 23, 2012

My Trip to the Doctor

I went to the doctor the other day because I got hives while visiting my brother in Nebraska. Not a big fan of Nebraska, my brother, Paul, told me I was allergic to Nebraska, or their water. My hives were way worse after a shower, so maybe Paul had a point. I also had terrible heartburn. I've only had heartburn once and that was while suffering a bad hang-over from poisoned beer and a night of eating deep-fried pickles. Apparently I rolled the dice with my digestive track and lost. While leaving Nebraska I was sure I'd get better. I didn't. If anything it was worse. When I got home I made an appointment to see my doctor-  which was set for a week and a day later. I assured the receptionist I was going crazy and she put me on the "cancellation list" as well as ordered a psych eval. I learned not to tell people in the medical profession that "I am going crazy and it is an insanely short trip". So I waited my week and a day and went to the doctor. Unfortunately, my hives were gone. Even after a hot shower. I went in with the nurse. I was weighed, had my blood pressure and temperature taken. Then she asked, "Have you gained weight in the last 6 months?" I'm thinking, 'You have my records in front of you smart-ass.'  "Do you take your medication regularly?" 'Duh. I didn't run out the door crying when you weighed me, or yelled when you rubbed it in by asking if I gained weight. I kept my mean thoughts in my head now.'  "Do you feel safe in your home?" 'Why? Is there a bugler? a gas leak? a tiger? An evil step mother?' I expected her to ask again if I take my medication. "Do you menstruate?" REALLY?? 'I am in my 30's. Do I look THAT old?' "Do you know what caused your hives?" 'No. I was hoping you would. If I knew, I'd stop using it.'  Turns out it was something I ate. The hives stay in your system for 14 days and I probably had hives in my throat causing heartburn. Or it's all old age. My left wrist and right shoulder hurt, but I wanted to tackle one problem at a time. Stay tuned for my next blog called, "You know those women who have it all? The perfect marriage, perfect kids, cook nutritional delicious meals three times a day, has an immaculate house, several friends, and a full-time job, all while weighing 105 pounds? Well, I wish I could get some of them to do stuff for me."

Monday, July 16, 2012

Old People

I ran into a mean old lady at the grocery store today. Actually she ran into me- literally. I was at the check-out, using my patience, because the "new guy" can't find the UPC codes as quickly as the veterans and this old lady came down the checker aisle at me and ran into me HARD with her cart. I thought, 'oh, old people can't judge distance- she didn't mean to', so I half smiled at her. She gave me a dirty look and said, "What the hell are you smilin' at? Pay for your damn groceries and get the hell out of my way!" Seriously? If it were a kid talking like that I'd say, "Do you kiss your grandma with that dirty mouth?" But this WAS grandma! I have old aunts, I had an old grandma, they would NEVER do that. Now I'll probably have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder like I do when I go to Target. One time when I was at Target pregnant with Ethan and had Noah in the cart I said, "Excuse me" to a crazy lady who left her cart parked in the middle of the laundry soap aisle, and she yelled, "You're RUDE!" Everyone stared at me and my poor child and my pregnant belly and thought 'great- rude people SHOULD pro-create.' Since then I never say "excuse me" (especially in Target) if someone is in the way. I just sit and wait for them to move. Now I'll have to bring body armor for the left side of my body when I go to CashWise. I understand if she's just generally crabby. She probably has aches and pains, can't see well, hear well, get around well, and is hot. But I didn't order the weather! Why take it out on me? I have hives, heartburn, itchy foot, sprained wrist, sore shoulder, and I'm hot, but I didn't yell at her. Mean old lady. I bet she was a mean lady before she was old. She needs a cat. Old ladies who collect cats are not mean at all. Crazy? Maybe. Never mean.  
Thoughts I think:  If trees could scream, would we be so careless about cutting them down? I think we might,  especially if they screamed all the time without a good reason. 

Monday, July 9, 2012


Since I'm home for the the summer I've been watching more TV.  I've found some disturbing commercials. The worst is the one for Vagisil. The woman in the commercial says, "Who knew your period and sex can change the pH balance in your vagina?" She goes on to tell the viewers they can use Vagisil for their itchy vagina. Really? REALLY. I don't want my 9-year-old thinking about periods, sex or vaginas. That is exactly why I canceled Showtime. Every time that commercial comes I stare straight ahead as in deep thought, or more likely, pretend to be sleeping because I can feel Ethan staring at me wondering what a period has to do with itching, sex and vaginas. I dodged the bullet for a month, but finally today I didn't bring on my fake narcolepsy quickly enough and I got a "Mom, I don't get that commercial." I just shrugged and muttered "Me either." They should change the commercial to a woman sitting on a bench squirming, reaching into her purse for some Vagisil, then sitting comfortably on the bench. Does the general public need to know their pH balance causes itchiness? No. Also, if you don't know why she's squirming on the bench, you either don't have a vagina, or you don't need Vagisil. 
The second worse is a couple sitting naked in a bathtub in the woods for Viagra. "There comes a time in all men's lives where they need a little extra help. Get some Viagra" and apparently get it on in a bathtub in the woods. Which, by the way would make the woman need some Vagisil.  It also shows inappropriate public displays of affection with his partner. Really? I'd be like, "Just because you took a pill, you can't all of a sudden get all handy because it suits you all of a sudden." Once again, I feel Ethan staring at me wondering 'What do men need help with? Carrying the bathtub back to the bathroom?' Both of these commercials are on the Animal Planet station! That's a kids station. What's next? Condom commercials on the Disney Channel? 
My third least favorite is the one for Pillow Pets that light up. It shows toddlers and preschoolers running to their rooms to sleep. Seriously? It's totally lying to parents, especially sleep deprived parents who are more eager to fall for their brain-washing. The commercial shows the kids in bed with the light up Pillow Pet that shines stars and a big face of the pet on the wall. Ethan said he wouldn't fall asleep because he'd want to stay awake to look at the stars. I said I wouldn't go to sleep because if I did, the ladybug on the wall will eat me. Why don't they show the REAL scenario from behind the scenes when shooting the commercial. The toddler yells, "MOMMMY! The lion will eat me." Mom removes the lion. Toddler wants a drink, then to go to the bathroom, then another story, then to be tucked in again, then ONE more hug, then the dumb stuffed animal which doubles as a pillow. Mom brings it back. "MoMMMy! I don't like the lions mane. It's itchy." Mom brings in some Vagisil... See the glow-in-the-dark pillow pet just add to the madness of bedtime. 
Thoughts that I Think"
I have proof drinking beer is much more fun than exercising. No one at the gym has ever been told at the end of the night, "You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here." 

Saturday, June 30, 2012

Strapped For Cash? Try Cat Whispering

During the past week, I have been stripping wallpaper. It turns out it isn't as exotic and fun as it sounds. I even tried to make it into a little game by rewarding myself with a beer after each two foot strip removed. It worked for two days, then I realized I could drink beer whenever I wanted and I wouldn't have the sore wrist and shoulder. As I was stripping the wallpaper I thought, "I need a summer hobby. Perhaps becoming a cat whisperer." I've been watching this show on TV called Dogs in the City which is about a guy in New York who counsels people about what to do with their out of control dogs. I was thinking about the show when I came up with the best idea ever. What if I did Cats in the City- the city being the metropolis of Fargo-Moorhead. I toyed with the idea of being a pet psychic for years, but that would imply I'd be willing to work with any pet, which would be untrue. I don't like birds, they are evil flying rats. Obviously I don't like mice or rats. Or any type or rodent actually. They are rodents. They want to gnaw on things and climb. I'd have to tell the owners, "Your rat is worried he will become snake food. Or have to wear mascara in his eyes." I also don't like ferrets which are really weasels. They smell bad and are sneaky. Don't even get me started on snakes. I wouldn't even come within 500 yards of them. So basically, the only pets I'd work with are cats, dogs, fish, (pet fish-not lake fish) and rabbits. Therefore, I came up with my idea of cat whispering. All you'd have to do is tell the owners what they want to hear, or what is painfully obvious. Costumer- "Boots cries when I leave." I'd tell them, "Boots tells me she misses you terribly during the day. Is there any way you can work from home, or buy her a cat sill so she can look outside?" Costumer- "Fluffy hisses at my new boyfriend.." I would say, "Fluffy doesn't like to share your attention," or if I wanted to mess with them I'd say, "Fluffy is very perceptive and knows this guy is not for you." Costumer- "Tabby doesn't like the new baby, kitten, dog, etc..." I would say, "Tabby tells me she wanted to be an only child." Costumer- "Sassy keeps hiding." Me- "Sassy hides because that is not his real name, and TOM doesn't like when you dress him up in pink baby sleepers." I would even let people communicate with their dead cats, "I'm getting the felling Muffin is with us now. Muffin tells me he is in a better place. It's the cat lady's house down the block. He eats liver and tuna for every meal. Muffin also wants you to know it wasn't him who kept peeing in the laundry basket- it was the dog. Oh and he wants you to give me a big tip." See I would totally be a natural! 
Thoughts that I think: People who go camping must like to pretend they are homeless.  

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

My Pets

Well I took all three dogs to the vet. Actually Sam got to go by himself two weeks before the other two because he had an ear infection. Abby was not a fan of this plan. She pouted and punished us by hiding for three days for not bringing her along. Sam was very well behaved, and our estimated "16 pound dog" (so says the liquor store dog peddler) is really 48 pounds. I have a student who weighs less than him. He had his check-up, shots and other than the ear infection, he's perfectly healthy. He was scared of the kitten peeking around the corner and he had to hide behind me though. Who would have thought the free-liquor-store dog would be the best behaved, and most healthy? I brought Max and Abby to the vet last week. Abby was not a good puppy. She whined, peed on the floor, and carried on. She is a whopping 17.5 pounds. Since she is suppose to be closer to 12 pounds, she's quite over-weight. Her teeth are awful. She has to be knocked out to get them cleaned, x-rayed and some pulled. She also has cataracts. Not to self- Before buying a dog that costs more than the house and car payment added together, you should really do your homework and find out the parent's health. But hey- we don't even know WHAT Sam's parents were and he's healthy as a horse! Abby-is sicker than a...well- dog. So poor Abby has to go on a diet, and get her teeth cleaned. Max was pretty well behaved. He just wanted to hide under my chair and wouldn't take the treat from the vet, "My mama says don't take treats from strangers" says Maxie. He's over-weight too. He is 21.3 pounds and he should be 16. Poor Maxie. He also has to be knocked out and have his teeth cleaned too, but not pulled thank goodness. So, for three days I had the dogs on a diet. They got three cups of food, and given 15 minutes to eat in the morning and 15 to eat for supper. Usually they get four cups of food to graze on all day. The food rationing was NOT a good idea. Apparently you shouldn't put dogs who can catch their own food on a diet. Sam caught a bird. By the time we realized it, only feet and head were left. Now I have to treat them all for worms. I should have known better. When Sammy was less than a year old, he caught a squirrel and brought it into the house and dropped it at my feet- then ran to hide when I screamed bloody murder. That same summer he caught a bird and carried it around the back-yard as if it were some great prize.
 "I thought you were done with that pizza. "

"I too drunk to exercise mama"

"Pick me! Pick ME!"

This morning Maxie peed IN my school bag. I wonder if it's his way of telling me he hates the sight of that bag- it means he'll be locked up and lonely for 8 hours, or he was sick of me paying too much attention to the books in it and not enough attention to him.

Thoughts I think: "This is the most flattering, comfortable bra." Said no woman. Ever.

Monday, May 21, 2012


Today on Facebook one of my friends posted photos of his mother's retirement from my Alma Mater, Atkinson Elementary. He had pictures of all of my old elementary teachers, I use the word old literally.  Good Lord they are OLD!! I didn't even recognize most of them. I could see a shell of their younger self, if I squinted and looked at it in my peripheral vision. My third grade teacher is of course 30-years-older, but I could not pick her out in a crowd. However, finding the librarian was spot on! Mrs. Majaka was 107 thirty years ago, and she still is. The man who I thank silently (out loud if I'm alone) for teaching me to drive every time I parallel park looks much too old to drive a car now. My favorite elementary teacher, Mr. Kragness, looks so old I would never pick him out in a crowd- or in the nursing home. Even my "almost mother-in-law" was unrecognizable. Maybe it was just because she didn't have her hands out like she was about to choke me to death. How could they have aged so much in the last 20 years? I didn't. I also don't understand how soap opera actors/actresses don't age. Seriously! Victor Newman was old when I was a small child, 30 years later, he is still having babies! Mrs. Chancellor was "old lady Chancellor in 1980- she's still alive. Maybe her and Mrs. Majaka drink from the same fountain of youth.Not all actors are as lucky. Danny Romalotti was super hot when I was five-years-old, but now he's a very creepy looking 60-year-old. I don't understand why people have to age so dramatically. I think you should be able to pick an age in looks and "lock it in". I would have picked 33. Or 19. I was thinner at 19, but my school picture at the age of 33 is my favorite. When I was at my uncles funeral last weekend, I kept looking at everyone and thinking, "when was it that you got so old?" My cousins tell me I should still be 6-years-old (they are much older than me), I look at them and think 'when did you turn into your dad?' It's like one day I woke up and boom! Every one is bald, wrinkly, and grey. Weird.
Thoughts that I think:
I want a new dog so I can name him "Stay". I'll say, "come here Stay" and he will get all confused. :)

Describe Your Relationship With Your Parents

Well, I've been avoiding this question since I copied it down from a friend's blog. In one word, I'd say that word would be "complicated". It's difficult to have a relationship with my mom without being the creepy guy in Psycho. I still wish I could talk to her- and she'd answer back. I write a letter to her every year and bring it to the cemetery. I miss my mom a lot. I wish I knew at the time of her death that I am more like her than I wanted to admit. I little bit of me always hoped I was adopted, or found on the side of the road. This weekend I was in Barnesville and saw the mother of my neighbor friend growing up. She knows both my mom and dad's sides of the family. I know she thinks I inherited all of the bad traits from both sides, something I also was convinced of until about a year ago. As I talked to her about her kids my mom's very words echoed in my head, "trust her just as far as you can throw her..." I had to giggle a little knowing she was right. Growing up I would always be sad when mean girls were nasty to me and mom would say, "who cares. If they don't like you, you don't need them." At the time I was angry because she wasn't even trying to understand me. Now I realize what she was saying because I say the same thing to my kids. My mom loved to read and was really smart. I got that from her. She would never sit still, always had to be doing something. I got that from her too. She might not have been the perfect mom, but she taught me what, along with what not, to do. When Noah was born she was very, very sick. In fact she didn't know why I was in the hospital, or who the baby was when they came to see us. I felt so cheated. How was she supposed to teach me to be a mom. Then I realized she did. For 28 years. I still miss her every day. I wonder what she would tell me. I wonder if she's watching me live my life and what she thinks. It wasn't until a few years ago that I realized by just being her, she made my dad a much better person. She made him appreciate his kids and grandchild. She made him empathetic, caring, and thoughtful. Now he is not. Now he's very much like his new wife; easily offended, self-centered and basically doesn't want anything to do with me, my sister or my children. He actually told Noah on his birthday, "This is the last year I'll like you." (being he's 12 and dad doesn't like teen-agers). What a dumb thing to say. It would be different if they had a relationship, but coming from someone whom you suspect doesn't like you in the first place? He's blown off all of our birthdays. He lives 20 minutes away and I get invited to his house once a year. We DO NOT go there uninvited. All of us learned that the hard way. For a long time I thought I did something wrong, or the boys (at the ages of 2 and 4) did something wrong. I know he's the one who is missing out, but it really feels like the boys and I am. Noah and Ethan constantly ask me why grandpa doesn't like them. Noah asked if he would be a different person if grandpa still liked him. That breaks my heart. I've tried talking to him about it, but his wife is screeching in the back-ground, "What's wrong with her? Is she crazy like her mother?!" I also know if I talk to him, he'd never understand where I am coming from. So there you have it. I'll leave you with... Wait for it...

Thought of the day: Student, "Why do we have to learn synonyms?" Me- "When you can't spell a word, you can think of one you CAN spell."

Tuesday, May 15, 2012

I Am Middle Aged

In the last 9 months I've lost three relatives. Two uncles and a grandma, and I'm about to lose another uncle because he's knockin' on death's door. I know people get old and die. But as I get older, my concept of "old" gets older and older. Time changes too. When I think of 10 years ago I say "Oh it was 1996 and Forrest Gump just came out"... Except 10 years ago was 2002 and I had a 2-year-old and was pregnant.  I remember thinking 30 was old, and that wasn't long ago at all. For the past ten years, I've used my dad's current age as the sliding scale of "old" because he can't be old. Ten years ago he was 66, so 68 was old. Now he is 77 and I've decided 90 is "old". Maybe it's the reality of my dad ageing and I don't want to face his impending end. He can't die until at least ten years after his wife dies. I have to 1) say my peace to him, and 2) live in the bliss of his realization of ignoring his lovely daughter and awesome grandsons, and his redemption to earn our forgiveness. I can't do either of those until she kicks the bucket. I was not close to my uncle, Lloyd, who died but it's really bothering me. Lloyd was a "loner", and they expect 30 people at his funeral. That scares the shit out of me. I worry, and strongly suspect, if I were to die tomorrow 30 people wouldn't come to my funeral. If it was during Superbowl weekend the three people I live with wouldn't even come. It just makes me so sad. A whole life and only 30 people to celebrate it. My dad and Lloyd didn't get along because my uncle thought he was a better dancer than dad. It also bothers me that dad doesn't have "time to think about" his brother's death because his wife's grandson is getting married in two weeks. I really hope when I die, my siblings aren't too busy thinking about a wedding they will attend to think about my death. I've never claimed to be a better dancer than either one of them, but we all know I'm probably a better dancer than Paul. What if I died? Would dad be too busy thinking about Brenden's wedding to contemplate his daughter's life? A whole life and it only impacted 30 people? My former students might come to my funeral, but I bet more of them would go to the cemetery to spit/dance on my grave.
It's been a long two days at school and home. It doesn't help that I have cramps so bad they could bring a grown man to his knees, and a horrible headache to go along with it. I also am convinced I had to have gained at least 12 pounds in the last week. Nothing I own is comfortable or looks decent.
On the plus side- the kitty came back!! Ethan said we can't call him Small Skinny Kitty because "it takes to long to say". So I am calling him Pretty Kitty and Ethan calls him Lightning. He answers "Merow" to either. Ethan finally got to pet him. He purred for Ethan, but purred louder for me. Ethan wants to make him a "cat house" outside. He actually wants to start it tomorrow right after school. Noah still thinks we need to "stop touching the flea infested, rabid cat."

Tuesday, May 8, 2012

The Ghost in My Bathroom- And My (Maybe) Pet Cat

I'm pretty sure there is a ghost in my bathroom. I have three separate light bulbs in the bathroom. When one burns out it gets quite a bit dimmer. Today while I was taking a shower, one of the light bulbs "burned out". I need a new bulb, no big deal. I went on showering. Not even two minutes later, the radio switched from my normal FM morning show to an AM station. Weird huh? I kept on showering. Then the radio went off all together. I suddenly remembered somehow the outside electrical plug-in is connected with the bathroom electricity and it was raining... I wondered if there was a correlation. Then- the bulb came back on! As if I had the right idea! Shortly after that, my normal FM radio station came back on. All of this makes me fairly certain their must be a ghost living in my bathroom. Therrrre Heeerrrre..... Hopefully the ghost isn't all judgy when seeing me naked.
The boys have seen an orange cat around our neighborhood lately. As you may already know, orange cats are always the nicest. I love orange cats. Lots of my cats growing up were orange and they were all named, "Kitty". Even my beloved dead Big Fat Kitty was orange. Anyway, today when Ethan was getting ready to go to baseball practice we saw the kitty on the sidewalk by my house. He was headed over to the condemned house next door. I'm sure he gets his fill of mice, etc.. from there. I beckoned him over and coaxed him with some tasty dog food. He came over and even before eating he was purring! New Small Skinny Kitty loves me!! I pet him and fed him from my hand. The whole time Noah was backing away saying, "Don't do that. He might have rabies. I bet it has fleas. Quit petting him. Don't let him rub up on your legs, he's going to get his fleas on you." Seriously? Who is the parent? Obviously Noah is NOT the animal lover Ethan is. I told Noah I wanted to keep him. In my house. Noah said, "No. The dogs won't like him, and he'll be scared of the dogs. If you get a cat you should get a baby cat, not a teenage cat."  Then I told Noah I want to keep him. In my garage. Small Skinny Kitty would like my garage. He still had his claws, and the tip of his tail was gone, so it probably froze off. That means he probably doesn't belong to anyone and is a stray. I picked him up and had him tell Noah, "Let me live in your garage. I'll like it there." Then I tried to chase Noah with the cat. He ran away yelling, "PUT the cat down mom!! The 'cat' (he refused to call him Small Skinny Kitty) wants to live outside." Ya right. Like he's the cat whisperer or something. Noah is no fun at all. I let the cat go and he, Small Skinny Kitty, not Noah sat on the sidewalk and stared at our house until he got sick of it and went rat hunting next door. Maybe he'll come back everyday. Then he can be my outside Small Skinny Kitty.

Monday, May 7, 2012

Number 4

I am skipping number 3- Describe your relationship with your parents because I don't feel like "going there" right now. I will go to number 4. What are the 10 things you would tell your 16-year-old self if you could. Wow. That's a hard one. I would say:
1. BE CAREFUL! There are a lot of times I could have, and if God wasn't watching over me, should have been really harmed or hurt. I did some really stupid things that I pray my children don't repeat.
2. Boys are dumb and not really worth your time. Sure they are fun to look at and talk to, but they'll just hurt you. Wait until you are in college to take any seriously. They, and you are not done growing.
3. Spend time with mom and cherish it. I know she's probably nagging you, but make sure she knows you love her. Ask what it was like to be a new mom, a new wife, and what her dreams and hopes were when she was 16.
4. Write down your hopes and dreams. Not just goals. But HOPES. At my age now I really can't remember what they were. I know what my goals were, but not my hopes or dreams.
5. The world is way bigger than Barnesville. Suck it up for two more years. You always hear "you can't go back." You'll be sad when you have to leave, but once you do, it's hard to go back and fit in. But strangely, it'll be OK.
6. Learn to study and demand that the English teacher teach you. It'll save you stress and money in the near future.
7. Have fun, but be safe. You have no real responsibilities, but also have an immature brain. Keep both of those in mind.
8. Don't worry so much about the girls who are "all that". You will be more successful than most of them. In 10 years, they will be living their "glory days", while you'll be glad you didn't peek in high school.
9. Don't worry so much. Nothing you worry about now will matter in 10 years, 10 months, or even 10 days.
10. You will be fine. You can't worry about the things you can't control. You can't change people, and you probably don't really want to. Remember- There is a reason for everything. It usually isn't obvious at the time, but years later you will look back and know what the reason was. HINT- Stoutenburg kicks you out because he really doesn't want to teach Social Studies and you are too distracting. What comes around goes around. You will feel like you'll need to kick kids out too. Then you will understand his frustrations with you, and magically have more patience! :)

Sunday, May 6, 2012

Most Embarrassing Moment

I'm skipping a few on "my list" to get to "My Most Embarrassing Moment" because it just happened on Friday and is fresh in my mind. First I need to set the scene. Noah was going to have a sleep-over with seven friends on Friday. That means we had to do mega house cleaning. On Thursday I picked Noah up from school and brought him home. On the way home we talked about all of the things we needed to do to clean. I figured, "it's not my friends- he can get a head start" and I had decided that morning that I had to break down and buy some spring clothes. Wearing causal summer clothes  or winter wear to school just wasn't working anymore. I dropped Noah off at home, then called Scott to tell him Noah had started cleaning and I was on my way to to mall to shop. To make the story more pleasant I'll just say I couldn't go shopping for myself, had to clean, and had to give more "notice" when there is a variation from my daily schedule.
Part two of setting the scene. I work with a guy, "Brian", who is our data specialist/reading strategist. Brian is very serious, proper and kind of fancy. He intimidates me a little. I wonder if he is from England because he uses words like "snarky" and "cheeky". My most embarrassing moment story starts here...
On Friday morning I opened my e-mail when I got to school. I had one from Brian reminding me about a special ed meeting for one of my cherubs with him and three other specialists on Tuesday after school. That message made me think I better give Scott "notice" so I started the following e-mail:

"I hope this is enough NOTICE for you. Next week I have the following going on:
Monday- School Improvement Committee Meeting from 3:00- 6:00. Tuesday- I AM going to the mall to get new clothes. Wednesday- I have a PLC meeting until 4:00, and I'm going out for a beer with the basketball moms at 7:00. Thursday- I'm free. Friday- I certainly hope I can find someone to get liquored up with because YOU DRIVE ME TO DRINK!!"
The end. Send. Feeling satisfied, I got up and welcomed my students into the classroom to start our day. Four hours later I checked my e-mail again. I received another e-mail from Brian marked "RE RE Reminder" (two replies from the original message he sent). I opened it. I read "So... We're changing the meeting to Thursday?" Oh My GOD!!! I clicked reply! NOT new message!! I immediately replied that it wasn't meant to go to him. But- to make matters worse- I couldn't send the e-mail! Our e-mail system was down!! It wasn't until lunch that I could talk to him. For five hours he thought I was a total nutcase! He even saw me twice during that time- in the hallway.  Of course I told everyone at school and now they're all asking Brian, "What did you do to drive Fairfield to drink?" "Can you tell me what Sara has going on a week from Wednesday?" I just opened up my e-mail today, Sunday, and he wrote yet another message saying, "We could have the meeting on Tuesday, Thursday or Friday. My week is pretty open." Really? You aren't going shopping at the mall for new clothes, or tying one on Friday after school because the crazy lady from down the hall yells at you via e-mail?  

Three Legitimate Fears

Today I will conquor number two on my list. Describe three legitimate fears you have and explain how they became fears. This is a hard one. I have many, many fears. It's hard to determine, with that many, if they are legitimate, or how they became fears. I am afraid of mascots. Seeing a mascot makes me feel the fight or flight reaction people speak of. Really, who is going to fight with a mascot? They are big, hairy and not above totally making a scene. That leaves the only other option- flight. I actually met the person who is my most lothed mascott, Hawkeye, from Fargo's baseball team. He is a friend of one of my friend's husband. When I met him I said, "Oh my God!! I HATE Hawkeye!! He's (as if Hawkeye was an actual person and not the guy sitting in front of me) always chasing me and trying to embarrass me. He's so obnoxious." Yep. That's what happens when you give me a few beers and try an intervention about my fears. I think I know how this became a fear. I was with my college boyfriend at Univeral Studios in Los Angelos, sitting on a tram. We were waiting for the tour to start and a giant, hairy gorrila tapped me on the shoulder and scared the $hit out of me. However, I never feel any PTS whenever I have been in a tram since. I also remember seeing the Easter Bunny at the Holiday Mall in Moorhead when I was pretty young and thinking he was creapy. Next fear, clowns. They are a little creapier than mascots. With Mascots I want to run and hide. With clowns I was to start yelling, "Get out everyone!! The clown is going to eat us all!! AAAAGGGGG!" I've never liked clowns. Even when I was little. My mom used to make clown dolls and she would set them in my room while waiting to be packed up for the craft shows. I remember not being able to fall asleep with the damn clowns in the room. I remember staring at them, looking away, and staring back again to see if any of them moved. I would also get out of bed, get a garbage bag and put them in it, and lock them in my closet knowing full well they could untie the knot and open the closet door once I fell asleep. I'm not sure where it stems from, but I think it might be every Stephan King movie I've ever seen. However, I would totally bury Big Fat Kitty in a "Magical" cemetary if it meant he'd come back to life. The next fear is probably snakes. I absolutly hate snakes. They make me want to run and hide AND yell, "Get out! The snake will eat us all!" Growing up on a farm, my job from seven-years-old on was to burn the garbage in the garbage barrel. Really? WHO in their right mind lets a child play with matches, let alone have to walk those thiry feet in the tall, tall, grass to get to the burning barral. Every time I went to burn garbage, I saw at least one snake. Once I saw a whole nest of little ones crawling all over eachother. I would whine and whine every time I was told to "go burn the trash". My mom would always say "this was going to be the time you won't see a snake." One time, in the early spring when I was about fourteen, I told my mom if I see a snake I was done burning trash forever. She said, it was too cold out for snakes and I wouldn't see one. Making a deal- right? Well, I opened the door from the house into the garage, didn't even take a step out into the garage, and saw a snake IN THE GARAGE!! It was probably waiting to eat me. I screamed. Mom got the broom and shooed it outside as I was yelling "Kill it! Kill it!!" I was mad she didn't kill it but she told me we needed it alive to eat the mice. Great. One more reason not to go in the garage. However, mom did stick with the deal and told my dad to burn the garbage most of the time that summer. My dad said the fear of snakes came from my sister's intense fear of snakes and apparently I was about two and with her when she saw one and I just reacted to her fear. My mom said it was because I was in a car with her and my grandma once and my grandma ran over (as in above- not killing it) a snake and grandma and I were certain the snake jumped up into her engine and was going to crawl out onto the floor of the car at any minute. I think I'm just scared of snakes. I hate how the move. I also hate how sneeky they are. I used to be afraid of dogs, but now I collect them. Growing up, it seemed EVERY damn house we went to, realitives, neighbors, etc... Had a big german shepherd, doberman, black lab, or husky. They would always jump on me and knock me down. If I knew I was going somewhere that had dogs, I would start worrying from the minute I found out. Sometimes it would be days. I think my fear of dogs concerned my mom. I heard her tell my aunts once that her and dad should get a dog to help me get over thte fear. I just thought, 'well between the snakes and the dog, I'll never go outside.' I'm still not a fan of German Shepherds, but I'm not scared of them either. Getting Abby helped me conquor that fear. None of these are legitimate fears though. Seeing a mascot, clown, or snake might ruin my dayWell my week if it touches me, but not my life.
My legitimate fears are 1) Losing everything. As in my job, children, family, house, car, friends... It's a fear that has kept me awake at night at times. Where would I live? How would I get the kids back? What if they were kidnapped? What if I couldn't afford rent or a morgage, or car payment? All of those things can be taken gone in a matter of a week. I know exactly how this became a fear. I've had enough loss in my life to know how fast your can lose something- or someone important to you. They could die, they could marry an evil b*tch and never want to see you, they could run away, it could have been something that you made more of than what it really was. Legitimate fear 2) Something terrible happening to my kids. Having two miscarriages and years of infertility will give you an unrealistic fear of something bad happening. I know I could never go on if something happened to either on of them. 3)

Thursday, May 3, 2012

The List

To entice me to blog more, and to get people to read my blog. I decided to answer questions from "the list". Of course I'd like to hear how you would answer the "question of the day" as well. Here's "The List"
1. List 20 random facts about yourself.
2. Describe three legitimate fears you have and explain how they became fears.
3. Describe your relationship with your parents.
4. List 10 things you would tell you 16-year-old self if you could.
5. What are 5 things that make you most happy right now?
6. What is the hardest thing you have ever experienced?
7. What is your dream job, and why?
8. What are 5 passions you have?
9. List 10 people who have influenced you and how.
10. Describe your most embarrassing moment.
11. Describe 10 pet peeves you have.
12. Describe a typical day in your current life.
13. Describe 5 weaknesses you have.
14. Describe 5 strengths you have.
15. If you were an animal what would you be and why?
16. What are your 5 greatest accomplishments?
17. What is the thing you most wish you were great at?
18. What is the most difficult thing you've had to forgive?
19. If you could live anywhere, where would it be and why?
20. Describe three significant memories from your childhood.
21. If you could have one superpower, what would it be and what would you do with it first?
22. Where do you see yourself in 5 years? Ten years? Fifteen years?
23. List your 5 hobbies and why you love them.
24. Describe your family dynamic of your childhood vs. your family dynamic now.
25. If you could have dinner with anyone from history, who would it be, why, and what would you eat?
26. What popular notion do you think the world has most wrong?
27. What is your favorite part of your body and why?
28. What do you think most people misunderstand about you?
29. List 10 things you would hope to be remembered for?
30. If you had three wishes what would they be and why?
31. What would you do differently if you could live your live over, knowing what you know now?
If you would like to get a jump start and answer these, feel free!!