Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Anonymous Wussies....
make me angry. Apparently my previous blog offended some people. For those of you that know me you know that I am a physical therapist assistant and have devoted the last fifteen years of my life to rehabilitating folks with all manners of disabilities and deficits. I love what I do. I also blog. I blog for fun and about my life experiences. I experience many things and view them in my own perspective. The blogs are never meant to offend but when they do I don't mind taking the heat. You just like me have opinions and I respect that. What I don't respect it the person that judges me, writes an email with their opinion and then doesn't have the strength of their convictions to post their name. Say what you want about me but everything I blog about I do so openly. I don't hide behind my computer. So for those people that want to have a dialogue with me regarding a post I welcome you. For those that just want to cowardly judge me and not leave your name, shame on you. Obviously the matter doesn't mean enough to you to take the heat so maybe you should stay out of the kitchen..or off the computer.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Mom, please stand by...
just in case I need you. As you know Ashley is away at Performing Arts Camp at MaDonna University. Michael was excited that he would be an only child for an entire week. He said he and I could spend lots of quality time together. What he failed to mention was that we would only spend quality time together ...if a better offer didn't come along.
On Monday he spent the night with his friend Zach. I told him I would need to pick him up early because I might go into work on Tuesday. It got this pitiful look on his face and said "but I thought we were going to spend the week together?". That's when the guilt gene possessed by all mothers went in to overload. Of course I would rather stay home with him than work ..duh. So Tuesday afternoon we watched a movie and shopped for neon colored duct tape. This would have been a great time for my dad to make fun of me if he were still here. " You spent how much for what colored duct tape!?" he would have said. "Girl , you've got more money than you have got sense..." Who knew I would miss ridicule so much..lol.
I digress...having decided to take the week off to spend quality time with my bitty baby boy I anxiously awaited his arrival home from baseball practice. We were going to watch a movie, clear out the DVR and make some brownies. About eight o'clock I get a call. "Mom, can I spend the night with Jarret Haas? What? I mean what happened to that quality time that I gave up my much needed paycheck to provide? Where was that pitiful look? Where has the little boy gone that insisted on sharing the same chair as me to the point we had to purchase a chair and a half to accommodate us both? I remember him standing at the front door when I would leave for work sobbing , tears running down his little chubby checks. Where had the despair at my departure turned into a tuck and roll move as soon as I slowed down in front of his friends house? It was gone too soon just like Michael Jackson. I guess I should be happy that I was his back-up plan. Most teenage boys don't want anything to do with their mothers. At least I can sleep at night knowing that if there aren't any other teenage boys wanting him to stay all night talking about girls and playing baseball I am in. And you can bet your last roll of neon duct tape that I will be here waiting with the movie and the brownies whenever I am needed.
On Monday he spent the night with his friend Zach. I told him I would need to pick him up early because I might go into work on Tuesday. It got this pitiful look on his face and said "but I thought we were going to spend the week together?". That's when the guilt gene possessed by all mothers went in to overload. Of course I would rather stay home with him than work ..duh. So Tuesday afternoon we watched a movie and shopped for neon colored duct tape. This would have been a great time for my dad to make fun of me if he were still here. " You spent how much for what colored duct tape!?" he would have said. "Girl , you've got more money than you have got sense..." Who knew I would miss ridicule so much..lol.
I digress...having decided to take the week off to spend quality time with my bitty baby boy I anxiously awaited his arrival home from baseball practice. We were going to watch a movie, clear out the DVR and make some brownies. About eight o'clock I get a call. "Mom, can I spend the night with Jarret Haas? What? I mean what happened to that quality time that I gave up my much needed paycheck to provide? Where was that pitiful look? Where has the little boy gone that insisted on sharing the same chair as me to the point we had to purchase a chair and a half to accommodate us both? I remember him standing at the front door when I would leave for work sobbing , tears running down his little chubby checks. Where had the despair at my departure turned into a tuck and roll move as soon as I slowed down in front of his friends house? It was gone too soon just like Michael Jackson. I guess I should be happy that I was his back-up plan. Most teenage boys don't want anything to do with their mothers. At least I can sleep at night knowing that if there aren't any other teenage boys wanting him to stay all night talking about girls and playing baseball I am in. And you can bet your last roll of neon duct tape that I will be here waiting with the movie and the brownies whenever I am needed.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
So much happening ... how can I blog about it all. I guess the most traumatic experience I had this summer was the air going out on my van....three times. Having your air goes out is a lot like your ass getting bigger..it happens so gradually that you don't realize it until you are really in trouble.
The first thing I realized was that I never roll the windows down in my van. I know this because when I did crap starting flying around everywhere. I was like the person in the wind tunnel trying to catch all the money they can in 60 seconds, except this time it was photos , papers and other important light weight things that I feel compelled to carry around with me. I was grabbing and tucking things under my chin, my hips , my breasts and between my legs until I could finally pull over. After retrieving all my important papers that had been filed above the visor, I headed out again. The heat index was 110 degrees and in approximately 5 seconds I was drenched in sweat. I am talking drenched from the undies out and hair wilting faster than a Southern woman can spot a sequin. With a diet coke in hand I started out for the 40 mile drive to the nearest dealership.
I arrived at the service desk and was so happy to have an air conditioned spot to land that I didn't even think about my looks. I was signing the paperwork with my professionally manicured nails shining and I reached up and brushed my bangs to the side as I often do. After turning over the keys I headed to the "powder room" to freshen up like any good Southern girl would. Imagine my surprise when I looked up to tuck my bangs to the side and saw the rest of my hair. Apparently not only will all your shit fly around when you roll down the windows but the wind force from the opposing windows at 70 miles per hour will cause your hair to become rooster like. Do you remember when moms used to comb their babies hair up in that rooster do? That is exactly what my hair looked like. So I had been at the counter doing the whole damsel in distress ...oh my goodness I hope y'all can fix my air when I am sure what they were thinking lady the air is the least of your worries.
As I sat in the waiting area with my new rooster look I realized I was hungry and thirsty. I looked in my wallet and came up with .80 cents. I had a credit card and a debit card but no cash. I could see a Wendy's a few blocks down but the thought of entering the heat again was more than I could bear. So I took my 80 cents and purchased a Payday and got a drink out of the fountain and waited.
When they came out I knew...just like you know when the doctor comes in that he is about to tell you bad news. It doesn't matter if it is a mechanic or a neuro surgeon they all have the same look. His look was saying..."Sorry rooster lady but you are screwed." and I was indeed. Things needed to be replaced and theydidn't have the part. They could triage me and get the air going and HOPEFULLY I could make it home before it happened again. They tried to explain what was wrong but we he used the analogy of pantyhose filled with kitty litter to describe the part I needed that was as far as my brain went. I suggested he call my husband because I was sure the kitty litter/pantyhose explanation would not make him happy. After 20 years together you just know these things. And after 20 years I knew that when he got that "how did you break the air" attitude that this rooster looking lady would be madder than a wet hen. The last thing this world needs is me sweating under my breasts with revenge on my mind.
They charged the air conditioner and charged me $150.00 and I left to begin the mad race to Michigan with a geriatric, a teenager and a seven year old with an attitude that I was certain would not improve if the air went out again. The adventure began......
The first thing I realized was that I never roll the windows down in my van. I know this because when I did crap starting flying around everywhere. I was like the person in the wind tunnel trying to catch all the money they can in 60 seconds, except this time it was photos , papers and other important light weight things that I feel compelled to carry around with me. I was grabbing and tucking things under my chin, my hips , my breasts and between my legs until I could finally pull over. After retrieving all my important papers that had been filed above the visor, I headed out again. The heat index was 110 degrees and in approximately 5 seconds I was drenched in sweat. I am talking drenched from the undies out and hair wilting faster than a Southern woman can spot a sequin. With a diet coke in hand I started out for the 40 mile drive to the nearest dealership.
I arrived at the service desk and was so happy to have an air conditioned spot to land that I didn't even think about my looks. I was signing the paperwork with my professionally manicured nails shining and I reached up and brushed my bangs to the side as I often do. After turning over the keys I headed to the "powder room" to freshen up like any good Southern girl would. Imagine my surprise when I looked up to tuck my bangs to the side and saw the rest of my hair. Apparently not only will all your shit fly around when you roll down the windows but the wind force from the opposing windows at 70 miles per hour will cause your hair to become rooster like. Do you remember when moms used to comb their babies hair up in that rooster do? That is exactly what my hair looked like. So I had been at the counter doing the whole damsel in distress ...oh my goodness I hope y'all can fix my air when I am sure what they were thinking lady the air is the least of your worries.
As I sat in the waiting area with my new rooster look I realized I was hungry and thirsty. I looked in my wallet and came up with .80 cents. I had a credit card and a debit card but no cash. I could see a Wendy's a few blocks down but the thought of entering the heat again was more than I could bear. So I took my 80 cents and purchased a Payday and got a drink out of the fountain and waited.
When they came out I knew...just like you know when the doctor comes in that he is about to tell you bad news. It doesn't matter if it is a mechanic or a neuro surgeon they all have the same look. His look was saying..."Sorry rooster lady but you are screwed." and I was indeed. Things needed to be replaced and theydidn't have the part. They could triage me and get the air going and HOPEFULLY I could make it home before it happened again. They tried to explain what was wrong but we he used the analogy of pantyhose filled with kitty litter to describe the part I needed that was as far as my brain went. I suggested he call my husband because I was sure the kitty litter/pantyhose explanation would not make him happy. After 20 years together you just know these things. And after 20 years I knew that when he got that "how did you break the air" attitude that this rooster looking lady would be madder than a wet hen. The last thing this world needs is me sweating under my breasts with revenge on my mind.
They charged the air conditioner and charged me $150.00 and I left to begin the mad race to Michigan with a geriatric, a teenager and a seven year old with an attitude that I was certain would not improve if the air went out again. The adventure began......
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