I think I may be losing my mind

I am wondering if I need to take an online test to see if I have dementia or something. Good grief. We painted our bedroom about a month ago...Okay...You got me, hubby painted the bedroom while I watched perched on a stool, leaning against the unpainted wall, sitting on the edge of the tub in the bathroom...Anyway, the bedroom got painted and isn't that what counts? I DID move everything out into the spare bedroom, and now I can't find a few key items. Such as my cool calendar. I loved that calendar. I am all into Impressionist art since I took that Art class, and I got a really artsty fartsy calendar that featured Sergent I believe. WELL that calendar has went missing. I have scoured this house, can't find it. I am wondering where in the hell I could have put it? GRRRR, it's driving me crazy. Well crazy-er. I even have been CLEANING in an attempt to find that damn calendar. To no avail. I have found old yucky cough drops, Math notes from Algebra I have no clue what in the world I was saving them for--did I think i would be held hostage and need to know how to figure out a quadratic formula? I don't know, you tell me--, mismatched tacky earrings, slutty socks that have lost their mate, papers I wrote in my 1st semester of college a few years ago that are so dorky it's embarrassing really, and old Glamour magazines I was saving for who knows what reason (tips for the making my hair shiner or the newest method for not showing panty lines, perhaps? Now that would be sad) but no calendar. DAMN it!

Oh my word, see, I know I have Alzheimer's, I said key THINGS, now I don't remember what the other items are. Mother of Pearl...grumble,grumble, grumble.

What was she thinking??

Tonight we went to "town" and went to eat at a local buffet type family establishment for dinner. Yeah, I know it's tacky and white-trailer-trashy to eat at these types of eateries, but it's fairly cheap and the kids like it; therefore it's a win/win for us.

Anyway, this post isn't about our lack of class as a family. It's about what people, women in general, wear in public. HOLY MOLY. Now, I am a big girl. ~ I don't know if you can tell that from my typing, do my letters look full figured she wonders staring at the computer screen? Does my blog look fat in this template? *gasp* In next months blogger monthly read about how to appear thinner in print, how to shed those excess new blogging pounds, and how put your blog on a diet!~

I digress, GEEZ stop distracting me, anyway, big girls. I admire a curvious woman who isn't afraid to show herself off a little. I tend to hide, but I did that even when I was thin, so I don't think my fat is the problem, I should have been born in the Pioneer Days when if you showed a little ankle you were considered risque`. What I DON'T admire is big girls who wear teeny tiny tank tops with boobies and flesh bouncing everywhere and then TIGHT blue jeans with her Just My Size underwear peeking out the back. EWWWWW. Get a full length mirror girlfriend. You give us self respecting womanly types a bad name. And don't you think that having that much extra flesh out and about in a buffet type setting is a little unsanitary?

There was some girls flouncing around in short, tight mini skirts and big tall wedge shoes, digging in the buffet and holding everybody up while they played with the jello- just the fact the buffet HAD jello is embarrassing to admit. Oh, did I mention they looked 6?! They could barely see up over the buffet counter. Does their Mother have them enrolled in the "Learn how to be a striper in 10 days or less" program at their elementary school I wonder? Gracious. I think it's so unnecessary and plain tacky to dress little girls up like they are getting ready for a raucous night of clubbing. I am glad i have boys. What scares me is in a few years my boys will be noticing little girls like that and getting strange ideas. OY.

Next there was some old people with walkers at the buffet. Okay, if you were having to use a walker, why oh why, would you go to a buffet? How are you supposed to hold your plate? These elderly people, who seemed to at least be appropriately dressed, THANK GOD, didn't appear to be with anyone ablebodied either. It was a train wreck. I should have got up to help them I suppose, that didn't occur to me until just now. What a bad citizen I am. Or maybe I hate old people, one or the other...

And one last thing about our night of fine dining. The place was PACKED so at least we were eating with a bunch of our closest white-trailer-trash friends. And it's in the middle of the dinner rush. And one of the brainiac employees decide to mop the floor. I am NOT kidding. We had old people toddling around, toddlers teetering on high heels, big girls bouncing to and fro, and me gimping around in my nun's habit, and a little man saying " Watch your step ladies, the floor is wet". What kind of a moron mops the floor in the middle of the dinner rush, I ask you? It didn't appear as if anyone had spilled anything either and he was moping the whole dining room floor. Maybe the restaurant got some fancy new accidental slip and fall insurance policy that they wanted to try out before the night was over?

After our dinner we went over to Barnes & Noble to reek havoc in yet another public place. I didn't see any scantily dressed babes there, sorry. I, for some reason unbeknownst to me, grabbed a pile of books about housekeeping and found myself a chair. I paged through happy homemaking journals while hubby took the kids to the little kids area of the bookstore where chaos reigns supreme. I read about how to clean windows, how to clean my kids room and organize it, how to serve a formal dinner with style and class, how to prepare my guest room for company, how to remove rust stains, and what to look for when buying produce. I left with a renewed sense of purpose and a promise, made silently to myself in the relative quiet of the bookstore, to come home and get busy, to be the wife and mother I know I am capable of being. I will make our house a HOME, dammit, and I will have sparkling windows to prove my womanliness.

We came home and I took a look around at the state of our pigsty and decided to blog instead. *sigh* Being this vigilant and having so many enlightened observations is just TOO tiring , to draining, to demanding, to be all Susie Homemakery and domestic. Maybe I'll write a book about THAT.

Unrequited love

Today, Ladies and Gentleman, I want to talk about unrequited love{as you may or may not have guessed from this posts title, you do notice that kind of thing don't you?}. Not the unrequited love we normally discuss, where you pledge your undying love to a guy who looks at you and bravely says, "Well, actually I don't find you attractive", or "Have we met? Do I need to tell you AGAIN that I have a restraining order?" not that said sad & pathetic situation(s) have ever happened to me. I hear it sucks and can be expensive in the restraining order case. No, I am talking about unrequited blog love.

You know what I mean, you go to your favorite blogs ,or ten, and read the post thoughtfully. You then open blogger's comment window and seriously read everybody else's comment so as not to repeat what a fellow blogger observed. Then you sit for 10 minutes with the cursor blinking at you trying to figure out the perfect comment, one that will showcase your sparkling wit and charming personality. And then you wait, and wait... Nothing. Said blog author never visits your blog or even comments on your comment on their blog. Although they may respond to other fellow blogger's comments. *sigh* At least I am not a blogging slut. . .Now THAT would be pathetic.

Unrequited love, it's painful people.

Oh, Tommy, please shut up

Dearest Tom Cruise,

As you may or may not know, I have been having wild & unladylike fantasies about you for years. That smile, those cheeks, *swoon*. I have been a HUGE groupie of yours since "Top Gun", and you know how much that ages the both of us. Therefore, I think you will understand when I make this simple request.

Please. Stop. Talking. Can't you just look pretty or only speak when it's been carefully scripted in a Hollywood blockbuster? I am afraid to say that you are a complete and utter freak. I have been defending you for like forever and refused to believe those tabloid headlines about you enjoying the man love or that you were actually an alien from a faraway planet where the men are a little on the petite side and wink at chubby girls. I have stood by your side, Tom! Through thick and thin, I was still your biggest fan even after those stinker movies , "eyes wide shut" and "minority report". But, dude, the more you talk, the more my delusions about you are destroyed. I just watched "Primetime Live" because I couldn't help myself, and I just wanted you to SHUT UP. I am trying so hard to be tolerate, but this Scientology gig of yours is just too wired. And everytime you gush about your Katie I can't help but think of poor Nicole and before her, Mimi. And, well, that's just not cool. Are you gonna dump me next, huh, Tom, are you?? That's what I THOUGHT. WELL, HMPH, I have therefore decided not to see any more of your movies then. How do you like that you egomanical idiot?

Wait, wait, wait,let's not be make a harsh decision here, Tommy, you and I go a long ways back, and i wouldn't want us to end things badly. . .
Let's consider this a trial separation. I'll see MI3, you see if you can keep your beautiful mouth shut and we'll go from there, kay?

Random thoughts on motherhood

I been have marooned at home with sick kids for the last 3 days. This has given me a chance to contemplate motherhood and all that it entails. Motherhood, my friends, is not for the following: the weak in body or spirit, if you are especially fastidious about personal hygiene, or if you like to get out and about with other breathing and alive human beings. Well, not when you have sick kids anyway.
Connor, 5, is a little clingy mess when he's sick. He's clingy when he's not sick, but when he's sick the ante goes UP. He will not sit alone or sleep alone. He wants to either be held or laid with 24/7. I take the day shift, hubby takes the night shift. I didn't take a shower for two days, I am not even sure if I changed my clothes. Part of the reason was due to the fact I had an 45 pound appendage velcroed to my side, and the other was due to my own laziness. What point was there in taking a shower when I wouldn't be able to blow dry my hair, because Mister Mister was gonna be screaming by the time I got out of the shower that he needed ME? I realize that there is many important factors to why people, mothers and non mothers alike, should shower and none of them include the ability or inability to blow dry ones hair, but it just seemed like it wasn't worth the effort somehow. And I knew we weren't going anywhere and nobody was coming to see us. So I remained unkempt and a slovenly for three days.

Today I woke up and knew I MUST leave the house, for my sanity and everyone who knows me, sees me, or can hear the sound of my voice. I must shower and do my hair and go to a magical place where nobody wanted me to hold them or lay with them. And if I happened to stumble across someone who demanded this intimacy, I would be under no OBLIGATION to oblige them. So, I did what any desperate mother would do, I called Grandma. She declined my generous offer to give her my grouchy, whiny, almost-better child. Can you IMAGINE?! She has a double ear infection and didn't really feel like company. HMPFPH. I almost started crying when she said she couldn't keep him for me, I HAD to get out. I decided that something had to give. I drugged him up and sent him to daycare so I could go to school. Am I bad ? He stopped running a fever yesterday, and he'll only be there for 4 hours, promise. I was thinking maybe we both needed out of the house?! He goes to a tiny daycare & I think it will only be him and two other kids there today. I am afraid to check my cell phone in case poor Paulette has left 50 messages demanding I go and pick him up. My conscience is killing me. I feel like such a LOSER just to say that I took him to daycare in a not 100% healthy state. *sigh*

Being home for all these days with a cranky roommate has given me a chance to reflect on WHAT I am. I don't know what I am. Am I a stay-at-home-mommy, am I a part-time mommy? I go to school MWF from 9-12. I am home the rest of the time. Does that constitute a stay-at-home Mom I wonder? I am having a hard time figuring out what box to check on the surveys I take, am I a full-time homemaker? A student? A full fledged insane person? Well, yes, to the later but there never seems to be a box with such a description. If there was how many people would check it, I wonder?

I am also forced to contemplate that as a society we seem to be hell bent on sustaining ourselves on two incomes. It is virtually impossible to have a somewhat "normal" existence on only one income. On the same token there is this whole backlash against daycare. And taking your kids to daycare when they are sick is normally out of the question. *guilty cough* So, what are you suppose to do? If I had a "real" job how able would I have been to call in sick for the last 3 days to stay with sick kids? And what about the fact that a few months ago I was home with sick kids for days and days too? Next week is Trent's spring break and he will be off school for a week and a half, what then? If I was working what I would do with the fruit of my loins?! It seems as though as a stay-at-home Mom, if that's what I am, you run the risk of getting all crazy and depressed-well I do anyway-and as a working Mom you are caught in a different kind of bind as well. In sociology they call this a "double bind". Basically you are up a river without a paddle. *sigh*

I truly admire true blue stay-at-home -Mom's who stay home and take care of their offspring and homestead 24/7. You are a hearty bunch. I stayed home with my kids for about 4 years and it about drove me to the brink of insanity. I truly admire Mom's who can do it and feel fulfilled, happy, and lucky to be able to stay at home. I really do. More guilt. *sigh again*

Alright, well, I am going to go and call my daycare lady and see how Connor the Grouch is doing.

Feel free to discuss and tell me what ya think.

NOTE: Called and checked with Paulette, Connor is doing great and announced his cold is all better. She asked if he could stay longer so they could go to the park. AUGH. I guess he needed out of the house as much as I did.

Alright, ANOTHER thing that bugs me

I took a mid term today in my Marriage and Family class. I have taken two other classes from this same professor last semester. His mid terms and finals are very easy. You know everything that is going to be on mid term. He tells you EVERYTHING, every question practically, it all comes off of our previous quizzes. And you are allowed to use notes on the essay section of the mid term. He even tells us the essay questions before hand so you can totally prepare your answer. Therefore, in my estimation, there is no reason whatsoever for someone to get a bad grade on his/her midterm, expect perhaps pure laziness and an inability to study, and that doesn't even seem like a good excuse.

So, today we are taking the objective part of the test, every question we knew beforehand, every single one, and there is a very lenghty matching section. I bet there was 15 or 20 terms on there that you had to match up to thier defination. There is this chick sitting next to me and after I hand in my objective part and am starting on my essay she keeps saying my name. I am ignoring her. We are taking a mid term for God's sake. It is worth 20% of our grade. I do not want the professor to rip my test up. She keeps saying my name over and over like perhaps I have a hearing problem-I am 36 after all and fairly old compared to her, she probably thinks I need a hearing aid. I finally look up with a expression of "what the HELL do you want, we are taking a MIDTERM here"? And she motions with her pencil to the matching section of the test, "I don't know the answers to these"! I'm looking at her thinking, okay, like if I wanted to cheat, which I don't, I HATE cheaters, how could I easily tell you the answers to 20 matching. It's not like a one word answer. I just shrug at her and go SORRY. She mumbles under her breath, "thanks a lot". I wanted to smack her. H E L L O, we're not friends, why would I want to help you cheat?

I know what's going to happen when we recieve our tests back. When I get mine and I have an "A" because I prepared, I'm not a brain I just studyed, she is going to be all annoyed and whiny. "Oh my God, you are so smart, it's just not fair". NO chickidee, I'm not smart, I just show up to class & then studyed the stuff he told us to study. Maybe if you did that too instead of putting on 2 tons of eye makeup and styling that ridiculiously long and out-of-style hair you'd be ready too.

She didn't even have her notes ready for the essay portion of the exam. So she still kept trying to talk to me. "what did you put?" HUH? "what does he want?" OHMYGOD, I wanted to smack her, I really really did.

But, I didn't, I just rushed out of there, mumbling under my breath, and hightailed it to a computer lab where I could blog about it instead. THANKYOU blogger. I do believe that my ability to blog saved me from assault and battery today.....