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.
Sunday, September 15, 2013
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
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.)
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| the bolt |
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.
Sunday, September 8, 2013
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.
Monday, September 2, 2013
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.
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.
Saturday, August 24, 2013
memo
boy oh boy...was i glad to see this weekend. i forgot how much i appreciated friday, until i headed back to a full week of reality. moreover, i'm pretty sure that kids have sixth sense when it comes to certain things. for instance, i started back to work (with students) this week and both of my children decided that after an entire summer of sleeping through the night...that they were going to take turns waking up. every night this week. (every night.) i read somewhere that when there is a shift in routine, like going back to work...your children may start waking up in the middle of the night because they "miss you." um...i miss them too, but do i want to see their faces at 2am? no, sir...i do not. i'd rather be dreaming or rolling over and scratching my ass at that point in the evening. on wednesday night, butch rolled over when he heard carrie crying and just said, "they hate us. our children hate us." i don't think they hate us, but i do believe they think it's awesome to drive us to the point of insanity. they do a fine job of this on a daily (and now nightly) basis. pretty sure they didn't get the memo that i was going to need a full nights rest to deal with working in the real world. also, no matter how much you love your job...working in the real world blows. (big time.)
monday morning was the first day in 9 weeks i had to wake up my kids and get them both out the door by 6:30am. this is no small feat. this is also the morning that i was juggling 12 bags and spilled coffee down the front of my (white) first day of school dress. instead of cursing and throwing shit around, i just started laughing. (better than crying, i guess.) so after a wardrobe change, i went into ella's room. i rubbed her back until she woke up and she sat up and said (startled), "WHY YOU IN HERE! DET OUT!" (oh my god.) i said (gently), "you have to go to KK's (her sitter) today...so you have to get up." she replied, "NO." okay then. i walked out of the room and into door number two. the chubby baby was also annoyed with my early morning wake up call. if she could talk, i'm quite certain she would've told me to "det out" as well. instead, she crapped her pants. i changed her shitty drawers and went back over to get my three year old teenager wannabe. we got out the door without any other issues, but the both of them were quite salty in the backseat on the way to the sitters.
most of the week went pretty well, minus the middle of the night wake up calls. until we got to thursday. thursday was one hell of a day. i walked in the door after work and ella said, "WHAT'S THAT FELL?!" (smell.) i did, in fact, smell something pretty rank and didn't know where it was coming from. upon inspection, i found a mouse in a trap in our pantry. i screamed like a little girl. i don't care if mice are dead or alive...i hate them. they are dirty little creatures that god should've never created. (yuck.) i slammed the door like the mouse was going to come back to life, get outta the trap, and bite me in the jugular. (it could happen.) later we were sitting in the living room and said, "what is that SMELL!?" butch said, "i don't smell anything." but then he looked around the room and said, "oh my god is that a...." i looked up and sure enough there was an extra large dog turd on the living room floor, among the blocks, a dora doll, and a pony. i jumped off the couch and said, "WHAT IS GOING ON AROUND HERE?!" our dog never (ever) craps in the house, so maybe she also has a sixth sense and wanted to shake up our week as well? (who knows.) after cleaning up the poop, i was folding laundry and carrie decided it was really funny to walk around with a pair of my underwear on her head. i mean, she was cracking up...and so was ella. butch was just shaking his head and i had no words. here's a visual:
later that night we were getting ready to put the kids to bed and i said, "where is carrie's blankey?" we couldn't find it anywhere and then realized that he had left it at the sitter's house. (rats!) now if you have children, you know the importance of a lovey. ella has one blanket that she is attached to, and so does carrie. we thought we could fool her and give her a similar one...i tried three different blankets and she acted like all three were soaked in poison. she threw them at me and screamed bloody murder from her crib. she would not go to sleep without that lovey. butch then had to drive over to the sitters to get the blankey...just as fen blew in the door for a glass of wine. ella was in bed already and carrie was acting really clingy and crabby. after a week of working with a fresh batch of five year olds...i was whipped. i seriously felt like i was in a coma and just going through the motions. fen thought this was hilarious. she proceeded to make fun of the fact that i could barely function due to going back to work. i did not find this hilarious and wanted to assault her with my box of wine. (eff you fen.) so this was the close of thursday...like i said, one hell of a day.
i will say that other than the fact of feeling like i'm walking around half alive, it is good to be a productive member of society again. luckily, i have an awesome bunch of kids in my class this year...not alotta knuckle heads in the mix. i'm really looking forward to spending my days with them. one of the kids told me that i am the best teacher he ever had. i'd be flattered...but i'm the only teacher he's ever had. (haha!) i'm hoping that as my children adjust to their new routine, they stop periodically waking up to say hello in the middle of the night. of course last night (when we didn't have to wake up at 5:30am), they slept straight through without a peep outta either of them. (of course.) butch is back on the coupon campaign and his new thing is buying and selling things on ebay. (he's obsessed.) one morning i told him his shirt looked a little short and he said, "well i guess i've graduated to an XL then...maybe i should shop at the 'big and tall' store." i nearly spit out my coffee and said, "big and TALL? big? yes. tall? no." he started laughing hysterically...then added that he'd just have to get back on ebay and buy bigger shirts. (great.) not exercise, just get bigger clothes. (awesome.) i am looking forward to a new school year, a new set of shenanigans out of my own children, and everything the fall season has to offer. i'm also looking forward to sleeping through the night again...so someone please give my children the memo.
Thursday, August 15, 2013
gasoline
there are some days that i wish that there was a video camera set up in my house, because sometimes there are just no words to describe the level of ridiculousness that goes on. (yesterday was one of those days.) now let me begin by saying that my husband is not a very "handy"man. he doesn't build stuff, he doesn't hunt stuff, he doesn't fix stuff often, he doesn't use a hammer...he's just not handy. (nor does he have common sense when it comes to these types of things.) he played football in high school...but was an art major in college. (he's all over the place.) moreover, i don't think his dad made him do these types of things when he was growing up. my father, on the other hand, is on the exact other end of the spectrum. in fact, he built my childhood home with his own two hands. i'm not saying he, like, helped a contractor build the house and hammered a couple nails into the walls...i'm talking he built the walls, the floors, did the plumbing, the electric, the drywall...the house. he built a friggen house. with his own two hands. he is not a carpenter or contractor by trade...he's just handy. so you can see that the disconnect in this regard between my husband and my father sometimes becomes humorous. yesterday it was pretty awesome.
my dad had brought a pressure washer down during the last visit in order to clean the siding on our house. whenever he comes to visit, he brings a truck load of tools and does all of the mr. fixit things that need to be done on our property...mainly because butch doesn't operate power tools, nor enjoys manual labor. usually, though, my pop tries to rope warren into helping him...and usually he is successful. so during the last visit, my dad ripped apart our fence in the back to fix it...only to realize it was my neighbors part of the fence. (i had to write a letter of apology to the neighbor...but that's a whole other story.) meanwhile, he told warren to go out on a ladder and use the pressure washer to blow all the dirt off of the siding on the side of the house. butch started out pretty enthusiastic and got about half way done before he quit for the day. my dad decided to leave the pressure washer at our house so that butch could finish during the upcoming weeks he was off for the summer. (i knew damn well that wouldn't happen.) the pressure washer has sat untouched on our porch for the past 2 months.
we haven't gone 'home' in that time, nor have my parents made a visit...so it's just been sitting there. we are going home this weekend and my dad told me to bring it with us. at first, i was like, "yeah, sure." but then got to thinking...and thought about all the CRAP we somehow manage to take home for a mere weekend. (loads of CRAP.) doesn't matter if we are going for a night or a week...our car looks like something outta the show sanford and son. (junk galore.) this time, we also have to travel with our (60 pound) dog, so that's an added...obstacle. (just painting a picture here.) alright, so i tried to do damage control...and recruit fen (who is also traveling home) to take the pressure washer with her in her car, cause she doesn't have two kids (nor a dog and loads of crap) to take along with her. well, of course she wigged out and was worried about gas fumes and leakage and lots of other stuff...so that didn't work out. i don't blame her...because knowing the stuff that happens in her life, it may have spontaneously combusted in the backseat while driving and she would've wrecked or some shit like that. i don't want to be responsible for that business...and it coulda happened. (for real.)
so anyway, to make a long story long...we had to get the gas out of the pressure washer to make it more portable. i called butch on my lunch break at work yesterday and asked him to empty the gas out of it and clean it up. (he agreed.) he asked me where he should dump the gas and i said i didn't know. (turns out i should've given him some options.) i breezed in the door after work and every window downstairs was open, including the sliding glass door to the backyard. i thought it was kinda odd, but the weather was spectacular...so i didn't ask too many questions. ella was swinging (naked) on the swingset, right along her sister...who was still in her pajamas. (no lie.) butch was shirtless and was pushing them both. we went through the normal pleasantries...and i then asked him if he cleaned up the pressure washer. he said yes. i went on..."so where did you put the gas?" now let's just go hypothetical here. if YOU had to dispose of gasoline and you weren't sure what to do with it, what would YOU do? i bet it's not what my HUSBAND DID with it. i thought maybe he dumped it on the side of the house...or in the driveway and washed it away with the hose...or maybe consulted with google or jeeves to find out what to do? (but no no no.)
without missing a beat he said..."in the sink." in the WHAT?! i yelped, "in the SINK!? the godDAMN SINK!? have you lost your mind?!" my hands were on my head, my mouth agape, and the tone of my voice made ella bust out into hysterical laughter. carrie started laughing because her sister was cracking up. i try not to use "bad" words in front of my children...but this was one moment where the phrase "goddamn" sink was necessary. (i couldn't help it.) i walked away and then came back..."THE SINK!? which ONE!?" he replied, "the kitchen sink." i lost my mind..."what made you think that a flammable liquid should be POURED DOWN THE DRAIN!? in our HOUSE?! in the KITCHEN?!" he shrugged his shoulders. (and smirked.) the reason for the windows and back door being wide open was now very clear. i then had to use the facilities and went to the downstairs bathroom...i walked in and was whacked in the face with the smell of gasoline. (jesus.) i then texted my dad. i gave him one guess as to where his son-in-law disposed of the gasoline from the pressure washer. he guessed "the grass." "no, sir! the goddamn kitchen sink!" my dad replied that he would've never guessed that one...and i know DAMN WELL that he was laughing hysterically when he got that message.
it is very reminiscent of the time that our pipes froze last winter...and i was on the phone with my dad telling him about it and asking how to unfreeze them. during this phone call...butch walked out and opened the electrical box. (the electrical box.) he was looking for some way to "turn back on" the water. (this really happened.) all i said to my dad was, "oh my god...he's looking in the electrical box." it took a good 5 minutes for my father to get his shit together...he was doing the ugly laugh on the other end of the phone and couldn't breathe, talk, or function. when he finally composed himself he just said, "step away from the electrical box, butch." (awesome.) this being said, he is no stranger to butch's non- handyman ways...so the gasoline down the kitchen sink wasn't a complete surprise. (funny, but not shocking.) he told me to run the water and flush the toilets a couple of times...and a couple hours later my dad was still laughing about it. (i was not laughing about it.) in fact, i was so pissed off that i strapped on my sneakers and went for a run at 7pm (even though i was highly exhausted at that point.) it was either that or stress shovel a coupla klondike bars down my chops. (i chose the former...good for me.)
so like i said in the beginning...the nonsense is never ending. it's like an eff'd up made for tv movie. (annnndddd action!) gasoline down the kitchen sink? just par for the course in this house. when i got home today, it realized it was the first day this week that my children were actually dressed in normal clothing. carrie's dress was on backwards...but at least he attempted to clothe them. shortly after i arrived, he showered and ran out the door to go somewhere. (anywhere.) he's had it with the stay at home dad gig. upon our arrival, i cannot wait to hear the shellacking my dad is going to lay on butch...or maybe there will be no words exchanged about it, he'll just give him one of his "looks." (either way, it's well deserved.) i'm over the fact that he poured flammable fuel down our pipes...i'm just glad he didn't blow up the house. had that happened, though, at least i know that my dad could build us a new one. (however, i sincerely hope that he would have enough sense to not ask my husband for his help.) tonight we are packing up the car so we can leave right after i am done work in the afternoon. included in the vehicle tomorrow will be...a pack n play, a feeding chair, a dog, 4 bodies, 3 bags, 2 carseats, 1 pressure washer, everything but the (gasoline ridden) kitchen sink. good grief.
my dad had brought a pressure washer down during the last visit in order to clean the siding on our house. whenever he comes to visit, he brings a truck load of tools and does all of the mr. fixit things that need to be done on our property...mainly because butch doesn't operate power tools, nor enjoys manual labor. usually, though, my pop tries to rope warren into helping him...and usually he is successful. so during the last visit, my dad ripped apart our fence in the back to fix it...only to realize it was my neighbors part of the fence. (i had to write a letter of apology to the neighbor...but that's a whole other story.) meanwhile, he told warren to go out on a ladder and use the pressure washer to blow all the dirt off of the siding on the side of the house. butch started out pretty enthusiastic and got about half way done before he quit for the day. my dad decided to leave the pressure washer at our house so that butch could finish during the upcoming weeks he was off for the summer. (i knew damn well that wouldn't happen.) the pressure washer has sat untouched on our porch for the past 2 months.
we haven't gone 'home' in that time, nor have my parents made a visit...so it's just been sitting there. we are going home this weekend and my dad told me to bring it with us. at first, i was like, "yeah, sure." but then got to thinking...and thought about all the CRAP we somehow manage to take home for a mere weekend. (loads of CRAP.) doesn't matter if we are going for a night or a week...our car looks like something outta the show sanford and son. (junk galore.) this time, we also have to travel with our (60 pound) dog, so that's an added...obstacle. (just painting a picture here.) alright, so i tried to do damage control...and recruit fen (who is also traveling home) to take the pressure washer with her in her car, cause she doesn't have two kids (nor a dog and loads of crap) to take along with her. well, of course she wigged out and was worried about gas fumes and leakage and lots of other stuff...so that didn't work out. i don't blame her...because knowing the stuff that happens in her life, it may have spontaneously combusted in the backseat while driving and she would've wrecked or some shit like that. i don't want to be responsible for that business...and it coulda happened. (for real.)
so anyway, to make a long story long...we had to get the gas out of the pressure washer to make it more portable. i called butch on my lunch break at work yesterday and asked him to empty the gas out of it and clean it up. (he agreed.) he asked me where he should dump the gas and i said i didn't know. (turns out i should've given him some options.) i breezed in the door after work and every window downstairs was open, including the sliding glass door to the backyard. i thought it was kinda odd, but the weather was spectacular...so i didn't ask too many questions. ella was swinging (naked) on the swingset, right along her sister...who was still in her pajamas. (no lie.) butch was shirtless and was pushing them both. we went through the normal pleasantries...and i then asked him if he cleaned up the pressure washer. he said yes. i went on..."so where did you put the gas?" now let's just go hypothetical here. if YOU had to dispose of gasoline and you weren't sure what to do with it, what would YOU do? i bet it's not what my HUSBAND DID with it. i thought maybe he dumped it on the side of the house...or in the driveway and washed it away with the hose...or maybe consulted with google or jeeves to find out what to do? (but no no no.)
without missing a beat he said..."in the sink." in the WHAT?! i yelped, "in the SINK!? the godDAMN SINK!? have you lost your mind?!" my hands were on my head, my mouth agape, and the tone of my voice made ella bust out into hysterical laughter. carrie started laughing because her sister was cracking up. i try not to use "bad" words in front of my children...but this was one moment where the phrase "goddamn" sink was necessary. (i couldn't help it.) i walked away and then came back..."THE SINK!? which ONE!?" he replied, "the kitchen sink." i lost my mind..."what made you think that a flammable liquid should be POURED DOWN THE DRAIN!? in our HOUSE?! in the KITCHEN?!" he shrugged his shoulders. (and smirked.) the reason for the windows and back door being wide open was now very clear. i then had to use the facilities and went to the downstairs bathroom...i walked in and was whacked in the face with the smell of gasoline. (jesus.) i then texted my dad. i gave him one guess as to where his son-in-law disposed of the gasoline from the pressure washer. he guessed "the grass." "no, sir! the goddamn kitchen sink!" my dad replied that he would've never guessed that one...and i know DAMN WELL that he was laughing hysterically when he got that message.
it is very reminiscent of the time that our pipes froze last winter...and i was on the phone with my dad telling him about it and asking how to unfreeze them. during this phone call...butch walked out and opened the electrical box. (the electrical box.) he was looking for some way to "turn back on" the water. (this really happened.) all i said to my dad was, "oh my god...he's looking in the electrical box." it took a good 5 minutes for my father to get his shit together...he was doing the ugly laugh on the other end of the phone and couldn't breathe, talk, or function. when he finally composed himself he just said, "step away from the electrical box, butch." (awesome.) this being said, he is no stranger to butch's non- handyman ways...so the gasoline down the kitchen sink wasn't a complete surprise. (funny, but not shocking.) he told me to run the water and flush the toilets a couple of times...and a couple hours later my dad was still laughing about it. (i was not laughing about it.) in fact, i was so pissed off that i strapped on my sneakers and went for a run at 7pm (even though i was highly exhausted at that point.) it was either that or stress shovel a coupla klondike bars down my chops. (i chose the former...good for me.)
so like i said in the beginning...the nonsense is never ending. it's like an eff'd up made for tv movie. (annnndddd action!) gasoline down the kitchen sink? just par for the course in this house. when i got home today, it realized it was the first day this week that my children were actually dressed in normal clothing. carrie's dress was on backwards...but at least he attempted to clothe them. shortly after i arrived, he showered and ran out the door to go somewhere. (anywhere.) he's had it with the stay at home dad gig. upon our arrival, i cannot wait to hear the shellacking my dad is going to lay on butch...or maybe there will be no words exchanged about it, he'll just give him one of his "looks." (either way, it's well deserved.) i'm over the fact that he poured flammable fuel down our pipes...i'm just glad he didn't blow up the house. had that happened, though, at least i know that my dad could build us a new one. (however, i sincerely hope that he would have enough sense to not ask my husband for his help.) tonight we are packing up the car so we can leave right after i am done work in the afternoon. included in the vehicle tomorrow will be...a pack n play, a feeding chair, a dog, 4 bodies, 3 bags, 2 carseats, 1 pressure washer, everything but the (gasoline ridden) kitchen sink. good grief.
Monday, August 12, 2013
balls
during our first back to school meeting, my principal used the phrase "balls to the wall." i can't be certain, but i'm pretty sure that's a precursor to a great school year. however, waking up to an alarm this morning was not fun. if you are a nine to fiver (or non teacher)...you want to hurt me right now. (just hear me out.) i am already up pretty early most days...i have my own two live in alarm clocks and their names are ella and carrie. (ages 3 and 1, respectively.) however, upon waking up on a nonworking day...i don't have to venture out into the world until i'm fully ready. i think that's the thing i hate the most about my job...just having to be there so damn early and see other people. (and their dumb faces.) i am not a "morning person" by any means...and in the teaching profession i've come across a lot of chipper chickadees that love to catch the proverbial worm early in the morning. they come bouncing into the building and all i can think about...is how i want to flip them off. (that's bad.) anyway, i just don't like to be a productive member of society before i'm fully awake...and i'm forced to do that every damn day that i work.
alright, enough ranting...i know most of you have been working this whole summer and would rather stick a hot poker in your eye than listen to me whine about the fact that i have to go back to work. (easy there.) i will say that when i walked into the building today, it really felt like i had never left. i also had a flashback to this time last year...when i was hiding in a closet in the school building pumping breast milk for carrie, who was only 2 months old. this same day, i walked out of the closet with the bottle of breast milk in my hand...and ran right into a family who was registering to be in my kindergarten class. i froze and they just kinda stared at me. i proceeded to smile, shake their hands, and introduce myself. they didn't mention the fact that i had a bottle of still warm breast milk in my other hand...or the fact that a few minutes prior to that, i just had myself hooked up to a machine that resembled something you would use on a farm animal. (no big deal.) i said goodbye to them, put my motherhood milk in the fridge, and went about my day. this year, thankfully, i don't have to deal with the joys of that business. but seriously, where the hell did that year go? from breast milk and bottles...to a walking one year old in no time flat? (it's crazy.)
since butch has one more week off, he is home with the kids. i never know how things are going to go when this happens...but usually they go okay now that the kids are a little older. when i arrived back at the ranch, there were several (like 4) amazon packages on the porch blocking the front door. i picked them all up and walked into the house, knowing damn well i didn't order anything from amazon anytime recently. my husband was on the couch wearing only boxer shorts (balls akimbo) and carrie was fully dressed in (long sleeve/long pant) jammies. she was fussing. he said, "she keeps fussing, i don't know what's wrong." i scooped her up and she was all smiles...and then she snapped her head around and just stared at butch, disgusted. (i laughed.) i have no idea what her disgust was about...nonetheless, the look was priceless. he just shrugged his shoulders and stared at us. i said, "well maybe she's hot? she is wearing long sleeved jammie's and pants. it's 90 degrees outside. you are half naked. so maybe that's it?" he said, "i tried to take them off and she got pissed!" (alright then.) i mentioned to him the fact that he got a bunch of packages from amazon. he got all excited and ran to the kitchen like a little kid on christmas.
meanwhile, i took carrie upstairs to see if ella had woken up from her nap. when i poked my head into her room, she was laying in her crib asleep (in full sleeve and pant jammies)...and it smelled like something had died, was laid to rest, and was rotting in her toy box. i decided to go in and wake her up. a few minutes after opening her eyes, i asked, "did you poop?!" she said, "yes. before my nap and then i just went to sleep." can you imagine crappin' your pants and then laying down for a nice nap? kids are so crazy. i asked her if she tried to call for her dad to change her and she replied, "nope! i just laid down. my was tired."so tired that you would rather sleep with poop in your pants? okay then. i changed her and walked downstairs as butch was modeling new polo shirts and a new pair of shoes. (with the boxer shorts he had on previously) he said, "i ordered these because it seems that you have been "shrinking" all of my shirts." i assured him that i was not shrinking anything...that the man wearing the shirts was expanding. he laughed and then said, "well they are all too small! i need bigger shirts, trish!" (dear jesus.) apparently when i was gone on saturday (for a football game with my brother), he ordered the shirts online. i'll be gone for the next 4 days...i hope i don't come home to a brand new pony on the front porch or some shit like that. (seriously.)
anyways, my first day back to work wasn't as brutal as i thought it was going to be. did i miss my kids? yes. did i miss wearing pajamas until 9am? yes. did i miss not having to look at people's dumb faces before i was fully awake? yes. next week, however, is when the real fun starts. the day when every parent rejoices and believes that it's the most wonderful time of the year...the time when their children come back to school. i've been teaching for 8 years, and the excitement of the first day of school never gets old. i always get butterflies and i am just as nervous as the kids. this is something your kid's teacher won't ever tell you...but it's true! i am looking forward to the upcoming school year and all of the new fun endeavours and excitement that it entails. moreover, i hope that at least one day this week i come home and my children (and husband) are dressed in (normal) clothes. what the hell, warren? (get it together.) yesterday i was talking to ella about how i had to go back to work and how teaching was my job. i then asked her what she wanted to be when she grows up. without missing a beat, she replied, "a princess!" (me too!) princess > teacher. on to another school year, another batch of kids, another bunch of shenanigans, i'm sure. goodbye summer, hello fall...it's time to go balls to the wall.
alright, enough ranting...i know most of you have been working this whole summer and would rather stick a hot poker in your eye than listen to me whine about the fact that i have to go back to work. (easy there.) i will say that when i walked into the building today, it really felt like i had never left. i also had a flashback to this time last year...when i was hiding in a closet in the school building pumping breast milk for carrie, who was only 2 months old. this same day, i walked out of the closet with the bottle of breast milk in my hand...and ran right into a family who was registering to be in my kindergarten class. i froze and they just kinda stared at me. i proceeded to smile, shake their hands, and introduce myself. they didn't mention the fact that i had a bottle of still warm breast milk in my other hand...or the fact that a few minutes prior to that, i just had myself hooked up to a machine that resembled something you would use on a farm animal. (no big deal.) i said goodbye to them, put my motherhood milk in the fridge, and went about my day. this year, thankfully, i don't have to deal with the joys of that business. but seriously, where the hell did that year go? from breast milk and bottles...to a walking one year old in no time flat? (it's crazy.)
since butch has one more week off, he is home with the kids. i never know how things are going to go when this happens...but usually they go okay now that the kids are a little older. when i arrived back at the ranch, there were several (like 4) amazon packages on the porch blocking the front door. i picked them all up and walked into the house, knowing damn well i didn't order anything from amazon anytime recently. my husband was on the couch wearing only boxer shorts (balls akimbo) and carrie was fully dressed in (long sleeve/long pant) jammies. she was fussing. he said, "she keeps fussing, i don't know what's wrong." i scooped her up and she was all smiles...and then she snapped her head around and just stared at butch, disgusted. (i laughed.) i have no idea what her disgust was about...nonetheless, the look was priceless. he just shrugged his shoulders and stared at us. i said, "well maybe she's hot? she is wearing long sleeved jammie's and pants. it's 90 degrees outside. you are half naked. so maybe that's it?" he said, "i tried to take them off and she got pissed!" (alright then.) i mentioned to him the fact that he got a bunch of packages from amazon. he got all excited and ran to the kitchen like a little kid on christmas.
meanwhile, i took carrie upstairs to see if ella had woken up from her nap. when i poked my head into her room, she was laying in her crib asleep (in full sleeve and pant jammies)...and it smelled like something had died, was laid to rest, and was rotting in her toy box. i decided to go in and wake her up. a few minutes after opening her eyes, i asked, "did you poop?!" she said, "yes. before my nap and then i just went to sleep." can you imagine crappin' your pants and then laying down for a nice nap? kids are so crazy. i asked her if she tried to call for her dad to change her and she replied, "nope! i just laid down. my was tired."so tired that you would rather sleep with poop in your pants? okay then. i changed her and walked downstairs as butch was modeling new polo shirts and a new pair of shoes. (with the boxer shorts he had on previously) he said, "i ordered these because it seems that you have been "shrinking" all of my shirts." i assured him that i was not shrinking anything...that the man wearing the shirts was expanding. he laughed and then said, "well they are all too small! i need bigger shirts, trish!" (dear jesus.) apparently when i was gone on saturday (for a football game with my brother), he ordered the shirts online. i'll be gone for the next 4 days...i hope i don't come home to a brand new pony on the front porch or some shit like that. (seriously.)
anyways, my first day back to work wasn't as brutal as i thought it was going to be. did i miss my kids? yes. did i miss wearing pajamas until 9am? yes. did i miss not having to look at people's dumb faces before i was fully awake? yes. next week, however, is when the real fun starts. the day when every parent rejoices and believes that it's the most wonderful time of the year...the time when their children come back to school. i've been teaching for 8 years, and the excitement of the first day of school never gets old. i always get butterflies and i am just as nervous as the kids. this is something your kid's teacher won't ever tell you...but it's true! i am looking forward to the upcoming school year and all of the new fun endeavours and excitement that it entails. moreover, i hope that at least one day this week i come home and my children (and husband) are dressed in (normal) clothes. what the hell, warren? (get it together.) yesterday i was talking to ella about how i had to go back to work and how teaching was my job. i then asked her what she wanted to be when she grows up. without missing a beat, she replied, "a princess!" (me too!) princess > teacher. on to another school year, another batch of kids, another bunch of shenanigans, i'm sure. goodbye summer, hello fall...it's time to go balls to the wall.
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