Mom to the Screaming Masses

It rained, and poured

Oh man, did it rain.

Today is Tuesday, I think, although I've adapted to this whole "no schedule" thing so beautifully that it's frightening.  We awoke to rain - late, too, as I agreed (foolishly) to go to Karaoke with The Hubster last night after dinner.  His "just one song" turned into 3, and if you know anything about Karaoke, you KNOW that takes all night.  My worried that I wouldn't be able to sleep with the amazing snoring machine were for naught, as the earplugs I brought worked beautifully.

But when we woke, it was raining, with brief crashes of thunder and occasional lightning.  After a quick breakfast, we went to the running track and ran in the wind.  Why?  Cuz I'm stupid.  One side of the track the wind was behind you, and it increased your speed like nothing I've ever seen.  I've got pictures of me almost vertical in the wind - I'll download them in the next day or so and share.

There was no laying out by the pool to be had, but I did get a temporary tattoo, again I'll share the pic later.  We should be in port tomorrow.  I did find out that I can't drink as much as I once could - oh, the headache I've had today!  I wish that all of you could be here, as I think we all deserve drinks, warm chocolate cake, temperatures over 70 and poolside wait service.

Tonight is formal night, and I'm almost over my alloted 10 minutes for the day.  One hour is $24, and I've split it over the six days.  I'm not crazy, as some of you have commented, but addicted.  Seriously addicted to the Internet.  And my coffee - on a ship like this, I wasn't able to get coffee as good as I do every morning. 

I wish I could take all of you with me - what a great time that would be!  Which bloggers would you take on a cruise with you, if you could?  Or, really not just bloggers, but anyone?

I was asked about the passport - yes, it did come, but we had to call a CONGRESSMAN to get it, and it was FedEx'ed to us the NEXT day.  Aggravation, thy name is mine.  But, we got it and that's all that counts, right?

And we're off!

So, today begins the great adventure.  The trip of the year.  The big cruise.

I was able to find shorts - in a last minute, super quick run to the chi-chi mall in a neighboring town.  One stop at Jjill, and I was much poorer, but the proud owner of two pair of shorts and one pair of capris.  The shorts fit well, too, unlike the pairs I had tried on at Old Navy.  One pair was low waisted and at least three inches of underpants hung out.  The second pair was so high cut that my hiney cheeks hung out.  Either way, I was flashing moon to the public, and that's just not my cup of tea.  But Jjill saved me, as usual, for a chunk of money. 

I also took a quick jaunt into Coldwater Creek - all I have to say is Thanks be to God for our tax return, since I bought the two cutest dresses to wear to dinner.  The horrifying part was when I went to pay and realized that I had no checkbook.  I always keep my checkbook in my back pocket, with my id and credit cards in a sleeve in my front pocket.  I went to pay and there was no checkbook.  I searched the fitting rooms in both stores, and then realized that it was gone and I had to be home in ten minutes.  I ran out to the van in a panic, new purchases almost forgotten.  The excitement of buying just the right clothes had disappeared in my anxiety over the checkbook.  On the way home, I frantically called Mall Security and the Information desk, and no one had turned it in.  I called home and had everyone look for it, with no success.  I was FREAKED out.  I had visions of closing my account before the trip, and bouncing checks, and the worst part of all, telling The Hubster I had lost the checkbook.  My heart was racing and my stomach clenched.

But!  When I came home and looked, it was right where I thought it was.  Right where I had asked not one but two kids to look.  Whew.  I could relax and enjoy my new clothes.

So, it being Monday, I need to have a Mission.  And I've got a great one.  All of us need to eat something every decadent and tasty.  Let me know what you choose. 

I'll be posting all week, between naps and poolside margaritas and reading one of my EIGHT new books. 

I'm so relieved that I have all of the work done - all the meals are made for the week, the laundry is finished, schedules are set and rides procured.  I can relax.  Until I get on the plane, and the freakout will begin again. 

Unconscious mutterings

Mad props to Mel over at Actual Unretouched Photo for the content of this post.  I madly copied and changed the particulars to my own, but the main thrust of this post is hers.  Also, hello, FishyGirl had great things to say on a very similar topic, and I'm swiping that as well.  Swiper, no swiping!  Great, now I'm channeling my inner Dora the Explorer...

I do kind of wish for the days when only 12 people read this blog.  Nowadays, my family, my husband's family, my coworkers and my kids teachers all read my ramblings.  People in my city, friends of my kids, parents of kids at my kids schools all know exactly where to find me.  It censors me, and sometimes I don't like that.  Like Mel, I feel that if I told you about the sink full of dishes and the washer full of dirty clothes, you'd all point and laugh and call me a big lazy slob.  And you'd be right.  The whole reason that I have schedules and lists is to avoid my inner,inherent laziness.  If I rant about how tired I am, you might throw up your hands and say, "Geez, woman, stop complaining already.  You really should get up and do something with your life.  How hard can it be to wash dishes?"  And you'd be right. 

If I told you that my bookshelves are overflowing, you'd talk about my inablility to get rid of books, and my desire to do nothing more than read in bed all day.  You'd be right.  I could tell you about my kids smart mouths and crabby dispositions, and my fear that they will kill each other one day with the fighting.  You'd say that I was a lousy mother, and need to take parenting classes.  You'd probably be correct.  If I told you that part of the reason we had to paint the house was that someone who shall remain nameless had written on almost every wall with crayons and pens, you'd laugh yourself sick at my inability to have any control over the kid.  As well as my lack of effective punishment, since said child did it repeatedly.  There are tons of unmatched socks, and when the basket gets full, I throw them all away and start over.  My kids fight and fight and fight.  And then they fight some more.  The Hubster just opened the microwave and found yesterday's green beans, still there.  I never ate my veggies. 

I swear to you that if you came over for a special visit, my house would be really clean - I spent two days cleaning for my sister in law, who came to take care of my kids.  But, I am weary of trying to keep the house tidy on a daily basis.  I can NEVER get ahead.  The Hubster says that I should just MAKE the kids pick up after themselves, and enforce rules and penalties.  I'm just too tired to do it half the time, and I hate having the same discussions over and over again with kids who couldn't care less.  My bathrooms are dirty, my carpets are only vacuumed because I have the kids do it, and I've got clothes that don't fit anyone still in drawers.  If you came over, though, I'd clear the table for you, and brew a cup of coffee, and we'd sit down and chat, dishes be damned.  There are crumbs in the corners of the kitchen, and dust on the fan.  I use too many dirty words, and my oldest son repeats them sometimes.  I never censor myself anymore. 

I have had it with my anonymous commenters, who call me judgemental and rude.  I am, and so are all of us at one time or another.  Especially those who comment anonymously about what a poor job I'm doing here, and how the kids would be better served by someone more with it.  Yeah, I know.  But I'm their cross in life, and I'm doing the best that I can, treading water most days and trying feverishly to make my way closer to shore.  I know I could be a better Catholic, a better Christian.  I know I'm (most days) not a great example of either.  I never have claimed to be the best, just someone trying her best.  There is a big difference there, if you'd bother to get to know me you'd see.  Most people who label others as judgemental in fact do so because they disagree.  You don't have to agree with me, but don't slam me as a less than perfect mother or person.  Look in the mirror first.

The thing is, I don't want to spend any more time trying to impress people.  I can't impress you, I am who I am.   I want to spend time reading, and listening to 80's music, dancing around my kitchen to The Clash and contemplating exactly what I want on my tattoo.  I want, I don't know what I want.  I only know that I'm happy being me, the way that I am, and I'm not going to try to change any more.  I also know that I'm not a perfect mother; in fact, if you asked my kids, they'd tell you I was the furthest from perfect that there was.  I'm afraid to ponder what they will say to their future spouses, and what they will do differently with their own kids, with their brains imprinted with my screaming face.  And where FishyGirl says that she feels so stupid as a mom sometimes?  I'm RIGHT there with you, sista.  I try to do what I say when I say - if I'm going to be somewhere at four, I'm there at four.  If I have a goal to write something for you by the 22nd, I'll have it there on the 22nd.  It's not much, but I am a woman of my word.  Yes, my hands are full, but I'm not asking you to change that for me.  Helping someone out once in a while doesn't mean that I can't handle life - just that I might need some help once in a while. 

But I'm happy.  Probably the happiest I've been, in, I don't know, a long time.  Maybe forever.  And that's good, I think.  I have a great husband, even though I have family who don't like him, and I have great kids, even though they fight like crazy.  (Did I mention the fighting?)  More importantly, I like being me, and that's something right there. 

What am I doing with myself this week?

• Looking for shorts.  Every OTHER February finds me looking through Target for winter clothing and finding nothing appropriate for temperatures less than 100 degrees.  This year, though, sweaters and cors, jackets and tights are prominent.  I've been throughout two malls and three stand alone stores, and no shorts.  I even looked at four thrift stores - got some great stuff for my kids, but nothing for me.  I'm two sizes smaller than last summer, so I don't have anything that I can wear.  Of course, I could just hang out on the Topless deck all cruise...
• answering the plantive, "Do you even love me?" from my biggest son when I yelled at him for interrupting Grey's Anatomy for the 52 time in ten minutes.  Right during the death scene, too.  Oh, the guilt that I feel from the yelling, but the tension here is making me high.
• arguing with the Passport agency, calling them three times a day, and getting my Congressman involved.  There's a big story in here, but I'm waiting until I get my passport before I say anything.
• trying to figure out what to pack
• eating a piece of lasagna as big as my head from my favorite Italian place
• creating power of attorney, grocery lists and five page schedule and routine for next week.  Packing 7 day a week pill containers full of meds and vitamins for each kid.
• trying to be the grown up and not hide Mackenzie's recorder - all third graders are assigned the recorder and it's making me c-r-a-z-y
• thinking I will never ever get caught up on my blog reading

What's new with you?  Did I mention I'm looking for shorts?

Because, as we all know, blogs are about nothing much

Various random thoughts from a Wednesday:

I find it very telling that when I do dishes at home, I have the kids do the silverware - they always have to unload it.  I can't stand doing that chore, and yet I routinuely do between 300-700 pieces of silverware every day at work.  Man, do I hate silverware.  Can't we all just eat with our fingers?

The good thing about working in a Catholic school is that you don't hear, 500 times a day, "Hey, you've got some dirt on your face!" on Ash Wednesday.

My food allergic child was distraught that he wasn't able to eat the King Cake yesterday at school.  Somehow, without knowing exactly how, I agreed to make him his very own this weekend.  Take a look at this recipe - two days?  Gah.

Four days until my cruise, and no passport in sight.  It's being readied in New Orleans, and the Passport dept took off from Friday until today.  When I called to check - again, for the fifteenth day in a row - I was told that the Passport office NEVER guarantees that ANYONE will receive a passport, and that there are, in fact, people who file for passports and NEVER receive them.  The response, when I dared to ask exactly WHEN I'd receive it?  "Well, we tell people to never buy tickets for a trip until the passport is in hand.  We can't help you.  You shouldn't have bought anything."  Since I'm NOT PAYING for this trip, it's not exactly my fault.  I did express order a new Birth Certificate for each of us, and we've been assured that we can, in fact, travel on the cruise with those.  Cold comfort, though, as any sickness in a foreign country will NOT be treated without a US Passport.

A boy in my daughter's class likes her, and he's not exactly shy about it.  Yesterday he brought me his lunch tray and said, "See?  I've gotten it as clean as I can, just to make your job easier."  Guess the best way to the daughter, he thinks, is through the mother.

At Wal Mart, I waited in the express lane, 20 items or less, to buy bananas, cherry tomatoes, strawberries and avocados.  The line never seemed to move, and I finally realized that they lady at the register was purchasing her full cart of groceries 20 items at a time.  Just to use the express lane.

I went to church this morning with The Hubster.  Mass consists of Old Testament reading, New Testament, Gospel and then a homily by the priest.  This takes about 20 or so minutes.  Not only could The Hubster not tell me what the homily was about, he questioned if there had been any readings at all.  Where was he?

Most appropriate for Fat Tuesday

What would be your most favorite meal?  It can be comprised of different dishes from different restaurants, if you have favorite specialties, or just favorite dishes, maybe something you make or your mom.

For me, my most favorite ever is the Marshall Dillon steak from Texas Steakhouse ( a rib eye marinated in a fruit and ginger mixture).served with a baked sweet potato, a salad from Outback with Perrercorn Parmesan dressing and lots of extra, summer ripened tomatoes, green beans from Trader Joes (the frozen ones, and then cooked and served with lots of fresh ground salt), Coconut shrimp from Outback, a Lemon Drop Martini, unsweetened Iced tea, and then a Hershey bar brownie - a warm brownie, topped with a hershey bar and vanilla ice cream.  Or, wait, pecan pie brownies. 

Plan your most favorite menu - calories be damned.

Weird things about me

I am, apparently, the very last person to do the 6 weird things about me meme.  But that's ok, because there is so much weird about me that I really SHOULD be the last one to answer this - I'm not sure how many can top me.  And, um, there are more than six.

For example, let's talk about the way I sleep - with heavy covers and the fan on.  I like the room cool, almost cold, and I like sheets, a blanket and a comforter.  I usually sleep with the covers pulled up to my chin, my feet and head the only parts out of the covers.  The Hubster thinks it's weird - why not just heat the room a bit and sleep with a sheet?  Because I'm afraid of an axe murderer and the covers keep me safe, obviously.  I literally can't sleep without covers.  I sleep with two pillows, always.  I also can't sleep without reading at least one page - no matter how exhausted I am, my brain won't shut off without reading.  I also have curtains mounted on the canopy bed frame, and I close them every night - I like it totally dark.  Dark and cold - I should sleep in a refrigerator.

I hate to wear shoes or socks.  HATE them.  I would go barefoot 365 days a year if I could, and I drive without my shoes all the time, even in the dead of winter.

I love apples.  I eat one every day, but only certain varieties.  I like crisp, sweet apples, and will not EVER eat the delicious variety.  I can't stand red, yellow or golden delicious apples.  I only like bananas if they are yellow with a hint of green and no brown.

I read the back pages of magazines first - every time.  Why? I don't know.  I don't usually do that with books, but I have to with magazines.

I have this strange affinity for numbers.  Not a Rainman type, but more like a memory for strings of numbers.  I can remember my very first phone number, from when I was five years old.  Ditto for the social security number of one of my boyfriends.  He was in the Army and I wore his dogtags - obviously, a total sign of true love. 

If I need to remember something, it's also a pretty safe bet that if it's set to music, it's locked away in the vault of my mind.  I can remember the words to almost every song that I've heard, and can tell the next note in classical music.  Can't sing a note, though.

I bat, shoot, and do everything left handed, except write.  And, I was asked on my first day at work if I was left handed, since I do everything "backwards".  Yup.  I'm odd with handedness.

I read Parenting magazines when I was 10 years old.  Never missed an issue until this year.  Now, I have zero desire to read any parenting magazines.

I don't like jewelry, except for my rings and my two pairs of stud earrings - no hoops, no necklaces, and DEFINITELY no bracelets.  I hate stuff on my arms.

I can't stand to send someone a gift and that person doesn't reply to let me know that they got it.  I hate that with a fiery passion, and won't send another gift if I have to call and ask if they received it.

I can't stand to have someone touch my feet.  It makes my skin crawl, but I get a pedicure once a month because I hate the way my feet feel without it. 

Books written in the present tense are impossible to read.

There, I think that's enough weird about me, don't you?  If you haven't done this meme, why don't you do it on your own site and i'll come read it?  I'll bet you are nowhere as weird as I am, though...

I never do anything half way

Tonight, I started coughing and could not stop.  COULD NOT STOP.  The Hubster looked at my beet red face and sent me to the doc in the box.  (I thought I was doing better, but today threw me for a loop.)

Where I was pronounced sick.  Duh.

With bronchial pneumonia, wheezing that sounds suspiciously like asthma, and general illness.

I made the last one up.  But the first two are real, and Mackenzie sounds just like me.  We have an appt with the super wonderful allergist at 8:30 tomorrow, and I'm betting that she will be sent home with a bag of pharmaceuticals just like mine!  Better living through chemistry, I always say.

The REALLY funny thing was when the doctor asked me if anyone in my family has asthma.  I started to laugh, started to answer "Five of my kids", but started to cough instead.  Any asthma? 

But, hey, the cruise is a whole week away!  Think of how much sicker I could be by then!

Mission Monday - hmmm, I need to give you an easy one.  I won't make you do anything, or go anywhere - especially since today is a holiday and we all need to rest.  Just tell me:  What would be your one item that you'd take with you if you were stranded on a desert island, like Survivor?  Mine would totally be what we call lip chap here in the Masses house - lip balm.

Way to be discreet, yo

I felt about 50% better today, and so I went grocery shopping.  Woo-hoo.  After I put everything away, I decided that I was too tired to cook anything. Man, does the flu take it out of you or what?  Mackenzie had Irish dance class tonight, and I knew that there was a pizza place two doors over, so I made a split second, executive decision. 

"Grab your coats and hats, everyone; we're going to eat pizza while your sister takes class." 

Amid shouts  of "hallelujah!" and massive high fiving, I reassured Mackenzie that I'd grab take out for her, and away we went.  I dropped her off and the rest of us went into the restaurant, to be greeted by exuberant employees, each one shouting madly above another, "Welcome!  We're so glad to have you!" It was a bit, um, overwhelming, considering that we were the only customers, and they were trying just a bit too hard to be welcoming.  The manager took our order as I sent the kids back to the table, and I grabbed the cups.  Riley was given a clear cup, for water, and the other kids were given green cups. 

I filled my cup with unsweetened tea, and the kids received pink lemonade in their green cups.  Riley's clear cup was for water, because I really didn't want her having lemonade.  Also, hello, I'm cheap, and I didn't want to pay $2 for a drink for a three year old.  I knew, though, that if she saw them drinking a PINK drink, when she had a CLEAR drink, she'd raise the roof.  What to do, what to do?  I briefly thought about giving her lemonade anyway, despite the sign on the drink dispenser that said, in large, bold print:

                                     CLEAR CUPS ARE FOR WATER ONLY!!!!!!!!

What the hell, I'm a rebel anyway, I thought to myself, and gave her an inch of pink lemonade, probably less, topped off with water.  Lots of water, to make a barely pink drink, but just enough so she'd feel like she got the same drink.  Feeling pretty happy about my decision, I made my way back to the table and plunked down the cups.

"WHAT?"  Emma screeched.  "Why does SHE get a clear cup of lemonade and I've got to have a stupid GREEN cup?"  I looked around madly, hoping that no one had heard my child.  "Emma, quiet."  I said.  Then Riley piped up.  "I want a GREEN cup - not a clear cup with lemonade in it.  No CLEAR CUP!"  she bellowed.  "I want a GREEN CUP!" 

I glanced around, and noticed that I had attracted the attention of the manager, the three pizza makers, and the one lone customer who had come in after us.  All of them, staring at the mom too cheap to buy her kid a lemonade and her kid who'd busted her.

The funny thing about the flu

Is how fast it sneaks up on you.  Incredibly fast, on silent, stealthy, kitty cat feet.  You think you just might hear something behind you, so you turn around and BAM!  The Flu slams you over the head with its best cast iron skillet and down you fall into a boneless slump.

Or so it feels, anyway. 

Tuesday when I left work I felt like I might be coming down with a cold.  I stopped in the nurse's office to pick up a paper, and when she handed it to me, I literally could not read it.  My eyes would not focus. I stared at the paper, shook my head and tried again. She had to ask me twice if I was ok, and I nodded assent, but inside I wondered why I felt like I was full of lead.  The answer, of course....

THE FLU!