1...Day

It is one today.

One as in...degrees.

On a scale of one to ten, however, this day would get a nine for looks; it's just dazzling out there! Bright, sunny, cloudless.

But, as far as temperature goes...well, lets just say if it was a blind date and this day showed up, I'd have excused myself to use the bathroom before the drinks arrived.

But, it has a wonderful sense of humor!

I realized this when I turned on my windshield wipers at 5:55 a.m. to get the dirty salt off the window and they made a move like they were going to start wiping and then gave up. Stuck to the windshield! It's only freakin December 10th!

But the sun, just gorgeous. My cats think it's July.

I had a partial day off today, so I spent it indoors watching Julie and Julia.

Sigh. Love, drama, comedy, life; Paris and New York, my two favorite cities. It was wonderful. I'm not sure it was supposed to make me cry, but it did as I am a huge sap and crying is a kind of sport for me. I cried because Julia Child is dead. I cried because she was so tall that it made it hard for her to find a husband, but when she did, he was so was sweet and wonderful like my own. I cried because I want to live in Paris in the 1950's! I cried because I want to write a book and I am too chicken shit to actually do it.

It made me want to marry Stanley Tucci and cook Bouef Bourginogne.
It is ironic that I have once again given up meat and dairy and virtually all things that make French cooking so wonderful, but there you have it.

I have not given up wine though. No!!! Not yet anyway.

So, instead of the delicious looking roast beef that is sitting in my fridge, I made myself a kind of veggie stew with leftover rice, roasted peppers and sundried tomatoes. It isn't half bad, but it isn't exactly what I was looking for.

I wanted to be ahead on my leaf turning this year; December, rather than January. After all, once January comes there is no denying that my forties loom large on the horizon. The 10's or the teens (what the heck will we call them?) is my decade to be 40-something and I intend to be fitter in this one than I was for those crazy, child-bearing 2000's.

So. Many, many veggies are on my plate and I have purchased the old lady facial set (at top dollar) to ward off those not so invisible lines on my face. I will not, however, be dying my hair. I've EARNED this gray, damn it! It is not going anywhere!

The Pink, The Petty and Dora the Explorer

I was watching cartoons with the kids this morning and it occurred to me that every toy (doll, game, etc) that is marketed towards girls is about how well said doll or virtual doll is dressed.

Since when did 5 and 6 year olds become obsessed with fashion?

Since the marketing machine decided they would, that's when.

Not having girls, I am not entirely sure if it has worked. I have overheard one parent of a young girl talking about how their four year old won't wear certain things to preschool anymore, since some other girls made fun of her.

Ummm, excuse me for a moment while I thank my lucky stars that I have all boys. Mmm...okay.

Now. They are four!!!

To be fair, the girl in my example is the precocious type, dramatic and all that. But, seriously... "Mom, I can't wear the Mary Janes anymore, they make my ankles look fat...and pink, well, that's just for babies"???

At four???

The worst was a commercial for Dora the Explorer. Apparently, Dora has grown into quite the hot little number who now can change her eye color and handbag with just the click of a mouse!

Wait, what???!!!

Dora was never into fashion!!! Dora was an explorer!!! She got dirty! She had a sensible tomboy haircut!!!

Now it's "Oooh, Boots, should I wear the green contacts or the blue? and does this backpack clash with my nailpolish?"

Why do we want little girls to be tiny, bubble headed, plastic whores?

I read a stat somewhere that said only 3% of women polled considered shopping to be fun and relaxing.

I apparently fall into the 3% on the other end that would rather get my teeth drilled while listening to cats mate or Ted Nugent talk about bow hunting.

The rest of us probably fall into the middle. We like to hang out with friends, will occasionally window shop, but mostly, we just shop when we have something in mind.

I wonder, then, why advertisers don't get it. Wouldn't they want to portray women the way they actually are? I mean, for the most part, they've got men down to a tee...

big trucks and erectile dysfunction.

Isn't that what men are all about?

Oh, and beer.

I'm kidding, of course.

Men also like boobs.

Seriously, does this stuff actually work? I think that I am more unlikely to shop somewhere / buy that product / drink that beer when their advertisers talk to me like a Barbie doll.

Or maybe, most people don't think about it as much as I do.

I tend to overanalyze things.

One more thing and I'll wrap it up.

This has nothing to do with advertising, but, it does have to do with one very large boob.

A guy comes knocking on our door the other day to tell us, and I quote "I'm not here to make any trouble, but your son just scratched my car".

Now, any sentence starting with " I'm not here to make any trouble" means the exact opposite of that. You desperately want to make trouble. You love making mountains out of molehills and, deep down inside you feel helplessly inadequate.

Oh, and you have a small penis.

You have such a small penis, in fact that you will start a fight over...drumroll...

Gasp! A superficial scratch on your 2001 Chrysler LeBaron that may or may not have been there when you left the house this morning, douchebag.

This guy had the nerve to get in my face about it.

He says that while looking through my neighbors window, he clearly saw my son scratch his fender with his bike as he went by.

The scratch is on the opposite side of the car from the window, so clearly, this DB has x-ray vision.

When my wonderfully patient and former Marine husband came to the door, he wasn't buying any of it, but, he calmly explained to DB Smallpenis that, in looking at my son's bike there didn't seem to be any paint that didn't belong there. Oh and also, go take a hike.

DB was back for round two today.

This time, my beautiful husband said "Sue me, you petty asshole".

And there you have it.

Now, if I had seen my son do this, or even suspected that he did, I would have walked over there, apologized and offered to fix it. I am not trying to get over on anyone.

But, don't come at me accusing my kid of something that at worst was a little accident and at best never even happened!

That is my rant for the day.

Is This Funny or is it Not?

My husband enrolled us in a new gas delivery service ( that sounds really funny, I know ). What that means is he signed us up for a service that buys their energy from renewable sources...yay!

Seemed like a no-brainer, until...

Today I get a letter in the mail saying that we don't qualify for this service due to our credit score.

Are you freaking kidding me?

Aren't we already paying for natural gas service and is it not currently on???

How good does your credit have to be to fight global warming?

And how bad is my credit that I can't even GET GAS (hee hee)???

This is one of those aha moments, as Oprah would call it, I know.

Aha! Our credit sucks! Aha! What losers we are! Aha! This would make a good blog!

It kills me that we want a more environmentally friendly house, but can't afford to make it so. We want better windows, but the $10,000 price tag is a bit of a drawback. Would love to install solar panels; same deal. Get our gas supplied by a company that promotes wind and solar? Get a life, your credit sucks.

How does anyone really do it? I can see the point some people have that the environmental movement is an elitist one.

Take the polar bears off the Endangered Species list and drill baby, drill! I need cheap gas for the next ten years so I can continue to live my extravagant lifestyle!

Just kidding...

The Down Side

My middle son has Down Syndrome.

My two other boys know no different and treat him as they should; like the brother/ pest / menace that he is.

The other day, Middle Son swiped Oldest Son's PSP. That in itself would not have been too bad, but, he decided that after playing it, he would see if it could float in the sink.

It didn't.

I did, however, become waterlogged and stop working.

$200.00 down the drain and an extremely angry kid to boot.

I must admit that I sometimes favor Middle Son. The kid has been through so much in his life that it is hard not to. The fact that he comes through with a smile no matter what makes him even more endearing.

So, when Oldest Son found out about the game and freaked out and said he wished he had a normal brother ( as if there is such a thing. I have one and if that is normal then we are all in trouble!) and he hated him and wished he were dead, or at least that he had a lock on his door and he would never, ever, EVER let Middle Son in his room again!!! I took it to heart. It hurt me to hear that stuff, though, if it had been my sibling who had done it when I was younger they would have been lucky to have survived the experience.

So, I thought about it from my Oldest Son's perspective. I let him rant and rave and say terrible things until he was done. Then, I calmly explained to him that I was frustrated too and that sometimes dealing with a kid like MS is really difficult. That even I didn't know what to do sometimes.

Then, I told him his dad and I would make it right. We punished MS for destroying the PSP, we ordered a new one for OS and promised to find a good hiding place for the new one.

After all of this, maybe 1/2 an hour later, OS sought out MS and gave him a hug and apologized for saying mean things about him. He said he loved him and wouldn't want a different brother.

I was so proud of him for not holding a grudge, for seeing that sometimes you just have to let it go and forgive, for seeing that his brother had some challenges, one being that he is an incurable destroyer of electronics.

I love those boys.

Gratitude

Yes, I can be a smarmy bitch. I am sarcastic and blunt and I complain WAY TOO MUCH. WAY.

A fellow blogger posted something about being happy with your life, regardless of your circumstances and it reminded me that I have so much to be happy about. (Thanks, Whit!)

Here is my list:

A boy with a sense of humor that rivals mine at age 13.
A boy that makes me remember that there is no such thing as perfect and WHO CARES?
A boy that has the heart of a poet.
A husband who knows that beneath all of this weight, age, stress lies the hottie he fell in love with; and all he sees is her.
Friends who love me.
Family who loves me.
Realizing that no one has the perfect life.
Time to have fun.
Good Coffee.
Warm socks.
Heat.
Kitty cats.
The ability to laugh at the absurdity of life.
I was born a Yankee fan :)
Bill Murray.
Music that makes me smile.
Music that makes me dance.
Music so awesome that it makes me learn to play the piano.
Two hands to write with.
Two feet to get my ass on the treadmill.
Coworkers that make work fun.
Delicious smelling hand lotion.

I guess that's a good start.

How about you?

Gimmie, Gimmie, Gimmie, I Need, I Need!

I watched "What About Bob?" today with two of my boys who are home sick. They are getting over it and will go to school tomorrow, but what a week!

These are the times when it is hardest to be a working mom.

Why do I have to be the one to juggle things and make sure that I can be home at a moment's notice when they get sick? Why is my job not as important?

Of course, there is the obvious: My husband makes triple what I make, so it makes more sense that he go to work and I stay home. But, I can't help but feel that even if I made more money, I would still always feel that it needs to be me.

Don't get me wrong. My sweet husband does a great job with the kids; and he did stay home one day this week to be with them so I could work.

But, this is what gets me: I feel guilty about it. I feel guilty about missing work, because I have that obligation. I feel guilty about working because the kids need me. I feel guilty asking my husband to stay home because he makes the big bucks and doesn't get paid if he isn't there.

And it really pisses me off! The fact that I am so grateful that my husband is willing to do it, to sacrifice a day of pay to watch the boys makes me angry, because when I do it, it's expected. When he does it, it's a sacrifice and what an awesome dad he is!!! Gag.

He is an awesome dad for doing what I do all the time and I am only an adequate mother for doing the same! Where is the equity?

He is an awesome dad, but only because so many dads really suck at it. The Great Dad Bar is set pretty low so he clears it by five feet, but still. Can we start having some (gasp!) expectations???!!! Why do I need to pole vault when he can Fosbury Flop? I suck at pole vaulting!!! And since I gained fifteen pounds with each kid, the extra is not helping get my ass off the ground.

I should be grateful. I should thank my lucky stars that he is the way he is. I should be happy that I have a job I care enough about to warrant my guilt.

Along these lines, I am thinking of interviewing for a higher position at work. I am pretty sure I will get it and though it is more responsibility, the hours will actually be more flexible for me. So, during weeks like this past one, I will have less trouble juggling things.

I know it's my job to juggle; but no one asked me before I got pregnant if I was any good at it!

PRSNL PLTS

I saw a license plate yesterday that read " TCH R KIDS". I stared at it for a minute before continuing on my way.

I shook my head. Touch Our Kids? What a stupid thing to say!

It took a minute for it to sink in: Teach Our Kids...Oh...I get it now.

I think if there is going to be any abiguity about your choice of personal plates, you should re-think the whole thing. Aren't there enough ways to let people know how you feel without having them decipher (incorrectly) your license plate? Hello, bumper stickers? Tee shirts? Buttons?

On another note, I was reading an editorial in the local paper on Halloween written by an obviously bitter and angry man ( on a side note, I hope the kids in his neighborhood saw it too and egged his house but good! ).

Anyway, the guy goes to say that we shouldn't allow kids to go door to door begging for candy, teaching them that you can get something for nothing in this day and age, economy, blah, blah, blah...

What do you call a Halloween Scrooge?

There was another editorial that suggested that instead of the devil worshipping ritual of dressing up and eating candy that kids only be allowed to dress as biblical figures and attend parties dressed that way. Sounds like an ass kicking waiting to happen.

Here's my interpretation of what Halloween means: People have been scared of death since they first realized that it was going to happen to them. Halloween is a way to overcome that. To look death in the face and laugh, if just for one day a year. "See?" you tell yourself, "It's fake! It's not scary at all"

Happy November!

About Last Night...

I watched it in the wee hours while unable to sleep last night. I was only about sixteen when it came out and had not see it except for a scene here and there since.

I remember the first time I saw it thinking how hot Rob Lowe was (totally) and how I wished I could be grown up and live in a cool apartment in a cool city (though I love Chicago, I would choose New York or Paris).

I forgot how funny Jim Belushi is in that movie, too." That's great. I tell you I'm a thief and you call me a liar".

Watching now, however, I couldn't help but view it from an older person's perspective.

Point number 1: Why do people in movies always have huge apartments in the coolest parts of town (in this case, Wrigleyville in Chicago) and yet, they have blue collar or lame office jobs? Are they selling crack on the side and they just left it out of the story? How else could they afford them?

Point number 2: How does Jim Belushi score so many women? Is it just the he is crazy enough in that women are like "hmmm, he's really crazy, I'd like to see what that is all about". I know a few guys like this and it always boggles my mind that women will sleep with them; though I kind of get the "unknown factor". They are hoping there is an Ashton Kutcher shaped diamond under that bad cologne and caveman fur.

Point number 3: Their whole relationship takes place over the course of about nine months. Seriously? They move in together after about two. What???

Point number 4: I don't mind smoking. In fact, in the past my favorite way to get rid of a chest cold was to go to a smoky bar, drink and smoke in excess, then hack away for a night. Now, that remedy is impossible, since no one can smoke anywhere anymore. It's funny how things that were so commonplace just a few years ago are now extinct.

Point number 5: Though it seems to me that 1986 was just like, five years ago, it was 23. Damn, I am getting old.