done

i rolled over this morning and said to my husband, "things have been really quiet around here...maybe we should think about working on baby number three to shake things up." he said nothing for quite some time, and then replied, "i hope you are joking." i was. (kinda.) my question is, though, how do you really know when you are "done"? (done having kids, that is.) i mean, almost immediately after you have your first, people start asking when you are going to start trying for your second. when you have your second they say, "so are you DONE?" or my favorite is, "are you going to TRY for a BOY?" (because i have two little ladies.) in a perfect world, yes...i would like to have a boy. but guess what? you can't pick the gender of your kids. at least both of mine are happy and healthy, and i can't imagine a my world without them in it. (i never take that for granted. ever.) why do we ask each other these dumbass questions? when people ask me i just tell them i have no idea. (because i don't.) i had this same conversation with some other mommy ladies i was hanging out with last night...as our combined army of 10+ children ran around the house and yard. (pandemonium.) i asked them (who i think are done) how they knew they were "done." what it  boiled down to was this...you just know. even though i don't know if i'm "done" for good. i'm done for now. if you asked my husband, he's done. (for good.) our children have chewed him up and spit him out. (sissy.)

shortly after i informed him that i was (sorta) joking about having more kids, butch got ella out of her crib who was yelling, "it's light outside! it's light outside!" from across the hallway. she equates waking up with the sun waking up. i wish she would give her sister the memo in the middle of the night sometimes. however, carrie was still quiet...so we left her alone. turns out she was quiet because she was in her room pooping her pants. as soon as he opened the door to get her, i heard him yell, "oh my LORD, carrie! YOU STINK!" i was in my bedroom laughing, knowing that he would have to change that crappy diaper. carrie was giggling and i could hear butch saying things like, "what did you EAT?!" "this is AWFUL!" and..."it smells like ROTTEN MEAT!" (sorry i missed that one.) then we went downstairs for breakfast. as he was thoughtfully chewing his donut, he said, "whoever invented the boston cream donut is a genius. a fat genius." (as he had the cream smeared all over his cheeks.) i just said dryly, "are you serious?" he replied, 'they are SO GOOD!" (yes, he was serious.) it doesn't take much to make him excited. give him a donut or a discount on something and the guy is set for a week. speaking of discounts, he took ella shopping yesterday and came home with a pair of pearl earrings for me. turns out he got a coupon in the mail for a FREE pair of pearl earrings and he was delighted to cash it in. he said, "they didn't even try to sell me the set this time." (this time?) so he's done this before? i didn't ask. however, i know damn well that he got me a pair of black pearl earrings for my birthday...so i'm guessing those were also free. (busted.)

he also came home with a pair of running shoes for me...in the wrong size. i said, "why didn't you just call me and ask me my size?" we've been together over 10 years and this man still doesn't know my shoe size. he said, "well i wanted to surprise you!" i said, "surprise me with the wrong size shoes that i have to take back!?" he snickered and shrugged his shoulders. (i guess it's the thought that counts.) our anniversary is in 2 weeks, so he informed me that the pearl earrings and the wrong size running shoes are my gifts. (gee whiz, thanks!) men are such fools sometimes. anyway, i took the shoes back and traded them for the right size today and decided to also go to target and trader joes while i was out. i've been to trader joes before...but really, what a weird place. lots of hippies and lots of horned rimmed glasses. i'm not judging, but i really didn't fit in wearing my sperry's and side pony. actually, i think half of the people shopping there were high. it was like 10am on a sunday morning and i felt like i walked into a grateful dead concert, rather than a grocery store. bob marley's white sister wearing a sweatshirt (aka the cashier) proceeded to ask me if i was enjoying the weather. i told her that i was, in fact, loving the amazing fall temperatures. she then told me that she hopes the weather is this nice next weekend because she is going to the renaissance fair for her birthday and the last 21 birthdays she's had really sucked, so she's hoping her 22nd is the best ever. she went on (as i was nodding my head) to tell me that she didn't even have a good 21st birthday because she hung out with a guy that complained about his ex wife all night. she shared all this while she was scanning my sausage and squash. strangers have a tendency to overshare with me (it's happened many times)...however, this was more than i bargained for on a sunday morning. i smiled and said goodbye to my new bff and headed out into the sunshine.

going grocery shopping without kids is like going on a mini vacation for most mothers. it's quiet, it's peaceful, you don't have to push around the racecar cart or worry about your kid making a scene in the cereal aisle. (it's nice.) however, the whole reason i went to trader joes, as opposed to my "normal" store is because i am planning on eating paleo food all week because i don't have to cook for boston cream boy. i looked up some awesome recipes yesterday and i had to get some weird stuff that only trader joes would have. (ie/ frozen artichoke hearts) i've also noticed that even though i'm still running, i've let at least 5 pounds to creep back on around my middle. (ala muffin top) pumpkin rolls and pumpkin beers are good, but not so good for the waistline. i will also not be able to run solo this week, my two 25 pound bowling balls with be accompanying me in the jogging stroller. i actually ran this weekend with the double jogger, forgot how hard it was, and dry heaved a coupla times along the way. (no joke.) however, i didn't go into full vomit...so that's a success in my book. and so, as this sunday night comes to a close...i am kinda dreading a week without warren. even though i do the majority of the stuff around the house, he does do some stuff other than sit around and scratch his balls. he clips coupons, he allows me to go to the grocery store without chaotic company, and he changes the occasional dirty diaper. as i hop on the paleo wagon this week, i will hold on for dear life. hopefully the nonsense stays at bay and i have nothing to report. however, knowing that there is always a calm before the storm...i'd bet you a pair of pearl earrings that the opposite will happen. a pair of pearl earrings or a pair of nikes...take your pick.

buttons

today i taught a math lesson with the help of a jar of buttons. (yes, buttons.) when my grandmother passed away a few years ago, there were a few things i took from her house as keepsakes…the jar of buttons being one of them. i’m guessing other people’s grandmothers had a similar collection somewhere their house. as a kid, i remember her getting this jar out when she had to “mend” something and she would sometimes allow me to play with them. i knew that i could use them for something in my classroom, or at home with my own kids and that is exactly what i did today. we are learning about sorting objects by size, so instead of only using the standard worksheet to teach the lesson…i handed each child a handful of buttons. it went something like this: when the children clean up from playtime each day, they know that math comes next. however, after i blew my train whistle (if the thought of me blowing a train whistle makes you laugh. good.), i walked to the front of the classroom and just stood in front of the room with the jar of buttons in my hands. most children usually take their good old time cleaning up after playtime, but upon seeing me standing there with a glass jar of goodies they were in quite a hurry to put away their toys. as they quickly returned to their seats, they were all shushing each other and sitting with their hands folded on their desks (showing me they were “ready”) because they just couldn’t wait to see what i was going to say or do with those little round gems in a jar.

i explained to the kids that we were going to sort the buttons according to size. i may have thrown something in there about them being magical. (it’s all about wording and enthusiasm, people!) we discussed what sorting meant (putting objects into different groups) and what size meant (how big things are) and then i started walking around and dispersing my wares. the kids were SO excited to get their handful of buttons. actually, most were losing. their. minds. there were giggles galore and just an overall air of excitement in the room. (over buttons!) as i passed them out, i allowed the children a good 10 minutes to explore with their hands before i asked them to sort them. most were running their fingers over them (fine motor skill practice), counting the holes in each one (counting practice), naming the colors of each one (color practice), discussing their buttons with other kids at their table (social and discussion skills), and just pumped they didn’t have a pencil in paper in front of them. this was different. (different is good.) after i allowed some time for exploration, i explained that i wanted them to make two piles, one for large buttons and one for small buttons. they happily got to work. every. single. child. was engaged in learning and every single child in my room was having fun. they were so bummed when i told them in was time to clean up, that i promised tomorrow we would use the buttons again for another lesson tomorrow. (cheers and high fives all around!)

i decided to share this story, because every year i have a handful of parents that are worried their little bill shakespeare or young al einstein is going to be bored in my class. i must say that i know parents don’t mean it to be hurtful sometimes…but, as a teacher, it is kinda insulting. it’s like me telling a mechanic that he didn’t put my tire on correctly, even though i know nothing about cars or tires. (and if you read my last story, you know damn well i do not know anything about tires.) it’s like me telling a nurse that they aren’t inserting the needle correctly, even though i never went to nursing school. now i know, there is a fine line here…because no one knows your child better than you. (i’m a mother, i know.) but there is a lot that goes on in the classroom that the parents do not get to see. lots of good stuff. lots of fun stuff. lots of educational stuff. lots more than just the worksheet that is sent home. parents (like you) need to know this. also, i treat all of my students like i would want my own kids to be treated. (and that’s the truth.) most teachers do the same. (most.) 

most importantly, remember the story about the buttons. it didn’t matter at what level each of my students were reading, what background they came from, where they went to preschool…when i stood there at the front of the classroom with my grandmother’s button jar, every single child was wondering what i was going to do next. (thus is the magic of teaching.) i could’ve stood up there and said, “get out a pencil and paper and we are going to do this worksheet together.” instead i said, “today we are going to use my grandmothers magical buttons! you are so lucky that you get to use them!”  like i said, each individual child was losing their mind. (thus is the magic of 5 year old imaginations.) as i wrapped up my button lesson, one of the kids told me it was best day of his life. (because he got to play and learn with buttons. that’s awesome.) i love that children get excited about things that seem trivial or mundane to us as adults. we should try to learn from these little people. get excited about the simple things, and try to let go of the things that bring you down. (at the end of the day, it’s really not worth it.) in short: buttons? yes. bills? no.

in closing, i took my own two imagination movers to target after work and had been rushing around to get a few things i needed. we had to go up an escalator to get into the store. as we hopped on, ella squealed, “WOAH, mommy! this is SO much FUN!!!” (moving stairs? yessss.) and so…after we were done shopping, we rode the escalator a few more times for good measure. (simple pleasures brought to you by a 3 year old.) then after dinner, we gave carrie an ice cream sandwich. i kid you not, she thought it was the best dessert she's ever had. (simple pleasures of a chubby 1 year old.) if these things don't get you excited, find something that does! live out loud and in a way that makes others excited about things as well. live like you are five years old and buttons are the best thing ever…cause really, it’s the only way to get the most out of life. kids (my own two and my students) remind me of this everyday, and as an adult sometimes it’s really hard to remember...mainly because of all the other nonsense we have going on in our (crazy) adult lives. so take a step back and embrace the simple pleasures that life has to offer; things like buttons, escalators....and let's not forget ice cream sandwiches.

karma

it is said that bad things happen in threes, but i beg to differ. judging from my most recent experiences, they happen in fours. at least i'm hoping that my most recent incident was the last car on the bad luck train. i am a person that believes in karma, but when stuff keeps happening over and over again...with no real rhyme or reason, it makes me wonder what i did to deserve this nonsense. karma has been bending me over lately and taking advantage of me from behind. the following things have happened in this order: first, my phone was stolen (along with 1700+pictures and videos of my kids). then, we got a clog in our downstairs bathroom that caused water laced with feces to flow all over the floor. after that, i ran over an extra large bolt causing me to blow out a tire. finally, in an attempt to save money, i bought a used tire (from a man named cameo) and it was the wrong size...and then cameo was unable to be reached for a refund. you've already heard about the first three incidents in detail, so let me fill you in on the fourth.

on friday afternoon, i called several used tire salesmen and asked them if they had the tire i needed. (no dice.) so, butch got on the phone after work and also called several people. he found a guy who said he could, "get one" and he would call him back shortly. in the meantime, i picked the kids up from work and was headed home. butch got really excited when i pulled in and came out to tell me that he talked to a guy named cameo (cameo) and he had found a tire for me. the guy was going to charge me sixty bucks. ($60 < $200) so we had to go meet cameo at his "mobile shop" out in a town called shady side. (real name of the town, i swear.) believe me, at the end of this story, you will agree that this is an appropriate name of the town we met in...SHADY being the key word. we were meeting friends for dinner and it was out their way, so we piled the kids into the car and headed out to meet him early friday evening. carrie was pissed off for most of the ride and was screaming. (screaming her head off.) cameo's house was about 25 minutes from ours. when we got to his place, butch called and cameo assured him that he would be there in 15 minutes, he told him he was just turning onto muddy creek road. we had just come from muddy creek road, so i didn't understand why we couldn't have met him somewhere closer. (as carrie serenaded us from the backseat with her screams.) when i mentioned this to butch, he wigged out at me and said, "i was only trying to HELP you! YOU could've set this up if you wanted to!" (tensions were high in the SUV.)

i took a deep breath and just said, "why don't we meet him somewhere on the way back through..." he called cameo and we agreed to meet at the swamp circle saloon. (real name of the restaurant.) cameo pulled in a few minutes later and he turned out to be an african american male, i'd say in his 40s, bald head...driving an old lexus and the backseat was full of tires. (mobile shop?) i didn't get a warm and fuzzy feeling from the guy, but he pulled a tire out of his trunk (which was also choc full o tires) and handed it to us. i showed him the tire that had the hole in it and pointed to his tire and said, "so will this one work?" he said, "sure...this'll get you rollin' again." i trusted him. (mistake.) i gave him $60 cash and we went to meet our friends for dinner. we told them about cameo. as i sit here typing this, i know how effing stupid this scenerio sounds. it sounded equally stupid to our friends, who laughed their asses off that we bought a tire from a stranger in a town called shadyside. (shut it.) anyway, the next day i had an appointment with mazda to have the tire mounted. i pulled in saturday morning and the place was packed. i looked for my friend anthony, who i had met earlier in the week. he was also the person i talked to on the phone to make the appointment. when i called i said, "hi anthony, i'm the girl that was there earlier this week who had the large bolt in her tire?" he said, "oh yeah! hi! i've been in the tire business for a long time and never saw anything that large in a tire..i'll never forget that bolt." (oh good. glad it was memorable.)

when i saw him yesterday on that fine saturday morning, we shook hands again and he said, "you can call me tony."i replied, "you can call me trish." up until this point he was calling me ma'am. (i'm 31, not 61.) enough with that nonsense. now we are on a nickname basis, good stuff. i explained to tony that i had bought a (used) tire and i wasn't sure if it was legit. i asked him to check it out. we walked out to my car and upon inspection, he told me it was the wrong size. (mother bleeper.) i told him the story about cameo...he laughed his ass off. (glad someone is laughing.) when we walked back into the service station, he told my story to a couple of the other guys in there. laughs all around. (hardy harhar.) i assured them that i'm not as stupid as i look, and this was an insolated incident. they all eyeballed me and were not buying it. anyways, i ended up having to pay the full $200 for a new tire, and while i was waiting for the work to be done i thought i would give cameo a call. (no answer.) no answer all day, actually. pretty sure i am going to have to eat the $60. (par. for. the. course.) do not buy used tires from strangers out of the back of a beat up lexus. lesson learned.

i'm hoping that this is the last loop of the pain train that i have to endure this month. i'm over forking out cash for mishaps and having to deal with this nonsense on an every other day basis. i'm not sure if karma is done having his way with me, but my rectal region is quite sore from all his abuse. if bad things happen in threes, i'm plus one to the good on incidents. if anything else goes wrong, i very well may lose my mind. (hell, i'm starting to feel like fen!) on the up side, my children now have a tire that we are going to hang from a tree in the backyard. (a sixty dollar tire swing.) cameo took me for a ride and now my children are going to reap the benefits. (how nice.) again, things could always be worse...i know this. crossing my fingers for better luck in the near future. i do know that it's better to laugh, than cry any day of the week about these unfortunate mishaps...so i choose to do the former. hopefully you are laughing along with me, rather than at me. however, if you are laughing at me instead, i hope karma gets you from behind like an inmate with a mom tattoo...and i mean that in the nicest way possible.

shitty

whenever i'm having a shitty day, i think about the guy on the side of the road (on the way to or from work) that has a flat tire. i always think, well...my day may be shitty, but at least i'm not that guy. well, today, friends...i was was that guy. (girl, whatever.) today also happened to be one of those days in my life that i wanted to hit the do over button. i woke up extremely tired, didn't want to go to work, my students were bonkers, i had a lot of stuff to get done, and then while driving to the gym (the ONLY day this week i could go due to schedule conflicts)...i ran over an extra large BOLT. i had my windows down and heard the pop and immediately my tire pressure light went on. i pulled over, got out, saw the outside of the bolt and said bleep ble bleep bleep bleep. (insert curse words there.) the thing was huge and my tire was not blown, but there was air leaking out at a fantastic rate of speed. i had to think fast. i didn't want to be abandoned on the side of the road and i was only about a half a mile from a valvoline place that i frequent. i decided to try to make it there. i hopped in the car and could hear the air exploding out of the hole and the bolt hitting the asphalt every time it went around. (cripes.) praise baby jesus...i made it.

when i pulled in, i hopped out of the car and there were about 7 guys working. it was hot as the devil's nutsack outside and i felt bad for them. they were all wearing pants and boots...and sweating profusely. it was so hot that i might've been appropriate for them to just be nude. (hot as balls.) seems mother nature believes it is july, when it's really september. she's confused. (typical woman.) i was wearing a black dress that was covered in elmers glue and 5 year old snot...pretty sure there might've also been a smear of puke on it too, cause i had a child that projectile vomited today. (like i said, shitty day all around.) i walked up to one of the guys and said, "i'm pretty sure i hit a large bolt, i was wondering if you could see if you could either plug the tire or put the spare on for me?" he introduced himself as, "michael." (not mike or mikey...michael.) i said, "what's up, michael...i'm trish." we shook hands. he came over and saw the bolt and said, "HOLY SHIT WHAT IS THAT THING!?" (ah gees.) he got some tools and proceeded to pull it out of my tire.  he started laughing and said, "where the hell were driving?" i said, "route 2." he said, "the chances of you hitting this at just the right spot and it going into your tire like this are slim to none." i explained that this was the cherry on the shitty day sundae and i wasn't surprised it happened. (not surprised at all.)

the bolt

he laughed and then grabbed the bolt, proceeded to go up to the garage and yell to all his coworkers, "YO GUYS! CHECK OUT THE SIZE OF THIS THING! IT WAS IN THIS GIRLS TIRE!!!" (thanks, michael.) they all turned and stared. most of them started laughing and a bunch of "holy shits" were flying around. (holy shit, indeed.) so, he decided he was going to try to plug it for me anyway...even though it was an excessively large hole. after his 5th (fifth) plug, he decided that he better go ahead and put the spare on...because the tire was pretty much destroyed. (awesome.) then, he asked me for the tire key. i remembered something about not being about to find it a while ago when i sent butch to the garage for something with my car (see favors) and sure enough, it wasn't there amongst the breast pads, teacups, and thong in my glove box. michael was looking at me like i was crazy. (my life is crazy, mikey.) we talked for a little while and i found out he went to high school right around the corner from where i teach now. always be nice to people when you can...it's better than being an asshole anyday of the week. he then told me the plugs are $10 a piece. (x5) i just smiled sweetly and hoped my elmer glue slash puke dress...and conversation would work some magic. (it did.) he only charged me for one plug. i can deal with $10. (peanuts. on the sundae. whew.)

so then i decided to just go to the mazda dealership afterwards. michael assured me i could make it there safely. my five plug tire and i went 40mph and made it there without incident. i walked in and slapped the bolt up on the desk and said, "this was just in my tire about 15 minutes ago. i don't have the tire key. i need someone to help put on the spare. please help." i wasn't trying to be funny...but apparently i was. anthony, (not tony, anthony.) started laughing and yelled to a group of dudes, "YO GUYS! LOOK AT THIS THING...it was IN HER TIRE!" (oh good, glad this is amusing to ya'll.) i also told anthony about my shitty day sundae and how the tire incident was the cherry on top. he told me, "not to worry...he'd take care of it." i went into the waiting room and sat down. i was so tired that i feared if i closed my eyes, i would fall asleep and make a fool of myself. (drool and all.) i played some games on my phone, called and talked to another mom (of 3 wild ones) about her shitty day, and about a half hour later anthony came out and said, "you are all set! we got the spare on." (yes.) he didn't charge me a cent. (i think he feared i would assault him.) i was standing there with him and another guy pricing tires...when in walked a full uniformed army officer. we all stopped and turned around. i smiled and nodded. another guy thanked him for his service. one shook his hand. it is september 11th, no less. and then it hit me. here i am thinking this is a really shitty day. a seriously shitty day...but really, it's all about perspective. life is all about perspective and how we react in these situations.

i needed to get my head outta my ass and realize that a blown tire is not the worst thing in the world. it's fixable. it's really not a big deal in the grand scheme of things. so many people remember this day and it marks the end of many, many lives. it also marks the day that many, many service men and woman had to go abroad and fight for our country. people like the officer in the car dealership standing right next to me. i stopped feeling sorry for myself right then and decided to put on my big girl panties and go home. anthony told me a new tire would cost me around $200. (bend over and insert bolt.) meanwhile, i'll be driving around with my spare...going no more than 50mph on the beltway on the way to work the next two days. (can't WAIT!) however, turns out the bolt was not the cherry on the shitty day sundae. when i got home, butch informed me that the clog was "back" and the water was filling up again. (joy.) moreover, he is in the final month of getting his masters (hence, writing papers) and the letters "c, d, and e" stopped working on his laptop. (randomly, just stopped working.) finally, we had a crayon melt in the dryer two nights ago and i used nail polish remover to get it out. nail polish remover is highly flammable. (i didn't know.) although i washed out the dryer with soap and water...i'm hoping that it doesn't explode into flames upon use. with the way things have been going around here...i wouldn't be shocked.

bottom line is this. no matter how shitty your day may be...someone's is always shittier. although i am mourning the loss of gym endorphins and $200 dollars, someone is mourning the loss of a loved one on this memorable day. although i was "that girl" on the side of the road with a semi-flat tire, someone probably wrecked their car on the way from work. although i was whining about having puke on my dress, that same girl's mother is taking care of her all night at home. you never know what someone is going through...so that's why it's always better to take the high road and be kind to them. be kind to one another. when i told michael i was having a crappy day...he said, "ohhhh, i know allllll about those days." when i told anthony i was up shit creek without a paddle he told me, "not to worry." those people did not have to sympathize with me, or be nice to me...but they were. i don't know their full story, they don't know mine...but they knew by my facial expression (and words) that i just couldn't take any more shit at that moment. (i thank them for that.) although i know this day could've been a lot worse...i am truly glad it's over. tomorrow is a new day. as i drive on my donut down the beltway going no more than 50mph on my way to work tomorrow, i know damn well that people are going to flip me off and swerve around me. i, however, will take the high road. i will smile and wave as the wind whips through my hair. i may just throw them a thumbs up. because, after all...i could be "that guy" on the side of the road, but i won't be. hopefully.

clog

this weekend marked the third and final event slash traveling hat trick in the past month. it's safe to say that we will not be traveling anywhere anytime soon. our three ring circus is back in town and will be setting up camp for a long time. (thank you lord.) although i love attending fun things such as weddings and parties, when we had to travel (again) this past weekend...i would've much rather thrown myself over the bay bridge than pack up the kids and the car and go on another trip this weekend. moreover, when our sewer started backing up into our house on friday night...you can times my previous statement by one hundred. after working all day on friday, coming home, feeding the kids, cleaning up around the house, packing for our travels, and putting the kids to bed...i decided to get a shower. as i was pulling conditioner through my hair, i heard what sounded like an elephant bounding up the steps. butch then busted through the door and was frantically yelling, "GET OUT! GET OUT! TURN THE WATER OFF AND GET OUT!" to say the least, i was startled. i almost slipped and slammed my cranium off of the chrome. i hit the water off, pulled back the curtain and whisper yelled (cause the kids were sleeping), "WHAT IS GOING ON!?" 

butch could barely speak and was quite hyper. he then somehow got out (barely) that the water was backing up downstairs and the half bath was now flooded. (his arms were flailing.) i grabbed a towel (conditioner still in my hair) and ran downstairs to see about 2 inches of water on the floor...and there was stuff floating in it. (gross.) he yelled, "SEE!!" (ohmygod.) so i told him to go get the shop vac...and i immediately called my dad. (mr. fixit.) he didn't answer, but called me back shortly afterward. i explained the situation. upon further inspection, we realized that both the toilet and the shower drain were overflowing with water. (and shit.) i then flashed back to thursday, when butch poured professional drain ACID down our pipes in the upstairs bathroom to get rid of a clog. (butch + acid = bad news) my dad explained that whatever was clogged in the upstairs must've been blasted down the pipe to the downstairs...and was now clogging the pipe to the outside, hence causing the backup. (oh good.) butch was still acting hyper about the overflow, and i was trying to calm him down. (easy there.) my dad told us to go get more acid to put down the pipes in the downstairs to see if it would get rid of the clog. i was concerned about the thought of my husband interacting with more acid...but at least he wasn't pouring gasoline down the drain this time. 

unfortunately, the acid didn't work. we had to turn the water off and had limited use of our toilets. (ie/no flushing) after having to go to dunkin donuts to take a dump the next morning (really happened), i decided to call roto rooter prior to leaving for our trip to pennsylvania. (i'll have a sausage egg and cheese, three donut holes, a pumpkin coffee...and the use of your facilities. thank you.) here's the thing about growing up in a small town...you can trust people and you know people to do certain jobs. for instance, if you have car troubles...you know a good mechanic that won't take you for a ride when it comes to repairs. if your drain backs up, you know a guy that will come fix it and won't overcharge you. when you aren't living in small town USA, you have to call roto rooter...and then they will send you someone that you aren't sure if you can trust or not. when vella (that's what his nametag said) showed up at our door, i had a feeling things weren't going to go very well. i said hello and shook his hand, baby on my hip. he just kind of smiled and nodded at me for a while as i explained what the issue was. it was very clear from the get go that this man spoke very limited english. now i am a pretty tolerant person...but i am also a person that believes if you come to our country and want to live and work here, the least you can do is learn the language. likewise, if i moved to another country...you can bet your sweet ass i would have enough respect to learn the language for my own sake, and for the sake of my neighbors. 

this being said, when he was just smiling and nodding at me...i had no idea how much of what i was saying he was understanding. however, i gave him the benefit of the doubt...at first. i explained to him what my dad said about the clog, and where my father thought the clog was...and how to get to the clog to snake it. he smiled and nodded. then he said, "you dad built house?" i said no, but he knows about pipes. smiled and nodded. it was very awkward...and then butch came through the door. (he had run out. to take a dump.) i stayed in the other room, and he showed the guy where the clean out valve was. butch said he just smiled and nodded at him. then, from the other room...i heard the guy say. "4-4-9" i heard butch say, "so you can come back between four and nine to fix it?" again, the guy repeated, "4-4-9" then added "dollars." i yelled from the other room, "FOUR HUNDRED FORTY NINE DOLLARS!?" and i peeked my head around the corner...to see him smiling and nodding. listen pal...if you want to charge me that much money, you better be able to explain what the cost of the estimate is for and what exactly you are doing. i said, "so what exactly is that for? do you know how to fix the problem?" more smiling and nodding. (jesus.) he then left and walked out to his truck...without saying anything. i called my dad. my father thought this whole situation was just higghhhhlarious. (i was not laughing at this point.) butch and i were standing in the living room and the guy proceeded to start up his truck...AND DRIVE AWAY! (where the hell are you going, vella!?) 

i hung up with my dad...who was having a small seizure on the other end of the line, and called roto rooter headquarters. i talked to a representative (who spoke very fluent english) and told him what had just happened. the entire time i was telling him the story...he was trying not to laugh and when i finally said, "then the guy just got in his truck and DROVE OFF!" he lost it. laughter exploded into my ear and i was left smiling and nodding on the other end of the phone. (come ON!)  so anyway, this was at 10:30am...and we were supposed to leave the house by 8am. (great.) thankfully, a friend of ours "knew a guy" that does plumbing. butch called him and within 20 minutes he was at our house. within 10 minutes of being there, he cleaned out the clog and was packed up and ready to go home. he charged us $20 bucks. (twenty.) my dad always said growing up, "it's not what you know...it's who you know." how very true. this all being said, fen also had a similar situation at her house a year ago and also had to call roto rooter. they came to her house, took her toilet off of the floor, flung shit all over her freshly painted walls...and charged her four hundred and forty nine dollars. (true story.) she had to bend over and let the plumber get her up the butt with a plunger. (not literally, but figuratively.) what else could she do though? she didn't "know a guy." that plumber saw fen and also saw a large "sucker" sticker pasted right to her forehead. (he was right.) 

after arriving to the hotel with an hour to spare before the party, i was quite glad that we had even made it. moreover, as we blew into the party in our color coordinated outfits...i bet no one had any clue that we had been shop vacing shit up off the floor just a few hours before. (par for the course.) when it rains, it pours in this house...and sometimes it pours shit out of your pipes when you are getting ready to head out of town. i'm so very thankful and appreciative for honest people like the guy who came and fixed our clog. i am also thankful for people like the first plumber...who at least made an excellent character in one of my stories. i also wanted to add that had we went with the roto rooter guy...we wouldn't have had to pay the full 4-4-9. we would've only had to pay 4-0-9, because when i told him i called them, my husband immediately went online...and found a forty dollar coupon. i just smiled and nodded when he showed me, very much like vella. coupons for clogged pipes? sure why not. just another added level of ridiculousness. however, if you are having plumbing issues and don't know who else to call...i've included the coupon for you to use. i just hope the guy doesn't get in in his truck and drive off before the job is done, leaving you up shit creek wihout a shop vac. you're welcome.

listen

i'm quite certain that my husband only listens to approximately 22% of what i am saying. (give or take.) moreover, the only time he is really listening at all is if it directly pertains to him, or it is something that is happening in that exact moment. for example, the girls were in the bathtub friday night and he was in the bathroom playing lifeguard. (ie/ sitting on the toilet playing on his phone, while they played in the tub.) i yelled in that i put the carrie's pajamas on the changing table, and ella's on her dresser. he said, "okay." i continued to fold laundry and i heard him get carrie outta the tub. he opened the door and as if on cue, he asked, "did you get some pajama's out?" this was like the 432nd time that happened that night (the not listening part) and i flipped. shit. i squawked, "I JUST TOLD YOU WHERE I PUT THEM AND YOU SAID OKAY! what is WRONG WITH YOU! you never LISTEN TO ME!" he smirked and stated, "i heard you say something about pajamas, but not exactly what you said." (typical.) carrie (wrapped in a towel in butch's arms) thought this whole charade was just delightful. she started cracking up and smiling as if to say, "this is awesome." this is not awesome you chubby baby. (not awesome at all.)

i can't be the only wifed woman that experiences this selective hearing phenomenon. i swear that one day i am going to say something really ridiculous just to see if he is listening to me when i'm talking. for example, if he asked me how my day was, i could reply with, "i was bored so i screwed a goat in the backyard"....and just see if he reacts in a crazy manner. i would bet a paycheck that there wouldn't be as much as a, "uh huh." out of him. (screwed a goat=uh huh.) it drives me NUTS. now friday after work, i was on a mission. i walked in the door, did a load of laundry, fed the kids, swept the hardwood floors, unloaded and reloaded the dishwasher, did another load of laundry, vacuumed up and downstairs, ordered dinner, picked up dinner, got by eyebrows waxed, went to the grocery store, packed for a trip...and more. butch did two things while i was doing all this...1. scratch his nuts on the the couch 2. gave the kids a bath (ie/lifeguard). so when i said, "i'm really glad i got all this done so i don't have to do it when we get back from outta town." he replied, "whew! me, too." as if he had helped. (i wanted to hit him.) he then saw my face and started laughing. he said, "well i gave the kids a bath, didn't i?!" (yes, and scratched your nuts.) he said, "if you want me to do STUFF, you need to tell me what to do." why don't guys just know what to do? if i'm folding laundry, help me fold. if i'm unloading the dishwasher, help me unload. if i'm doing shit...help me! "if you don't tell me exactly what you want me to do...then i don't know what to do." (aaaaahhhh.)

anyways, after all this nonsense and playing with the kids for another hour...both children were quietly tucked away in their cribs asleep. (bedtime is such a sweet time.) i really enjoy the moment when a quiet peace falls over the house...and you feel like a human again. other parents have to experience this. when the kids go to bed, you suddenly become like a real person again. butch and i ordered take out sushi and got a bottle of wine...and felt very much like adults, and not so much as parents. this being said, he showered downstairs in the half bath...while i was upstairs. i came down and was pouring a glass of wine...when he sauntered into the kitchen stark naked. i was opening the container of sushi at the time, and he proceeds to see me and say, "heyyyyy i got a SUSHI ROLL for ya!" (pointing to his penis.) alright, first of all...why are you naked in our kitchen? i prepare food here. please stop. he said, "i threw my towel right into the laundry so you wouldn't get mad! now i'm gonna go upstairs and get dressed." (oh good.) however, he proceeded to stand there and talk to me naked for quite some time. i then looked around the fridge and saw the sliding glass door and said, "OH MY GOD! THE CURTAIN IS OPEN!" (sure enough, he was standing right in the large window.) he looked up, screamed like a little girl, covered his man parts and said, "they ARE open! and our neighbors are on their DECK!" (for the love of....) he ran away. (little girl like.) i was left standing there, shaking my head...eating sushi.

i often wonder if as we age, this selective hearing (and stupidity) will get better or worse. judging from my parents and their interactions with one another, i'm pretty sure it's gonna get worse. after spending the weekend with them, i noticed that my mom experiences the same thing on a daily basis. she yelled several times, "you never LISTEN to me!" my dad chuckled. (men are asses, doesn't matter their age.) i do enjoy, however, when a man's stupidity causes them embarrassment...such as standing stark naked in an open window, giving your neighbors a private penis peep show. (fool.) so i guess i will just have to get used to not being listened to, and repeating things 342 times before he actually hears me. (awesome.) moreover, most men are not multitaskers by nature...so making a list for them for things you want to get done is suitable. i'm pretty sure butch actually prefers me to make a list, rather than hear me bitch. although, i do know his first preference is scratching his nuts on the couch. (he'd tell you the same thing.) george carlin (one hell of a comedian) once said, "here's all you have to know about men and women. women are crazy, men are stupid. the main reason women are crazy are is that men are stupid." well said, george. i agree 100%. however, my husband agrees with about 22% of that quote...cause that's how much of it he was listening to when i told him.