Friday, March 30, 2007

I am Drunk

Happy Spring Break with one eye closed.

Tuesday, March 27, 2007


I just wrote this two minutes ago, and haven't even reread it. It's like a fresh-baked bread from the oven, so warm, a pat of butter melts onto it. Taste it.

Let me know your thoughts--

Do you remember the first time
You held his hand?

Sweaty in your palm, you itched to wipe yours onto your jeans,
But knew it would seem awkward to do so.
Plus, then he might not take up your hand
again, twirl his fingers through yours.

Do you remember the first time you felt his skin touch yours?
Lightly, gently, embracing you, finding you?

Do you remember the first time you fought?
So fervently that you almost wished him dead?
That you wanted to push him away, scream and spit at him.
Tell him you hated him?

Do you remember how he had grabbed your wrists, while you still
Screamed your envious rant.
And he just looked into your eyes, holding your wrists tightly.
Waiting for the calm of you to be contained.

Then, when you silenced.
He moved his hands from your wrists,
And intertwined his fingers into yours,
And you leaned into him.
Breathed him.
Loved him.

And all was good again.

Sunday, March 25, 2007

Not Much

Nothin' to say


wasting S P A C E...

Thinking of ...

what I can write about.


Thursday, March 22, 2007

Burnin' In My Pocket

I've got a perfectly good itunes card sitting here not getting any younger and I need some good tune suggestions.

Old, new, funky, rappy, hip-hop (but not too hippy), no jazzy, nothing too whiny, upbeat and something to keep me movin' on my iPod. Beetles need not reply. I want some stuff I may have never heard of but will WOW me.

So, send in your suggestions! And I will hold a drawing. The person who wins will receive a Manic Mom CD with those 15 songs I've chosen.

Rock on! And Peace UP!

Wednesday, March 21, 2007

My Type

This is why I write:

OK, not because of HIM, but because of HIS STORY, which I located on Stephen Parrish's site.

Follow your dreams, no matter what you have to do to get there. And man, is this guy hot or what? Maybe I should print out his photo for motivation! Shame we're both married... tee hee, kidding... I wonder how tall he is? I only go for tall guys. In fact, that's the first thing that I find attractive about a man. Has to be tall.

What about you? What 'gets' your motor runnin'?

Monday, March 19, 2007

Miss Snark Hearts Me. Or At Least Sets My Fears at Ease. For Now...

For those of you Writer Types who visit Manic Mom, the witty and always impressive, all-knowing, Clooney-lusting, gin-swilling, Killer Yapp-walking, nitwittery-loathing, fantabulous mysterious agent extraordinaire, Miss Snark, posted a question from me on her popular blog.

View it here: Miss Snark

I think I'm in love.

Sunday, March 18, 2007

Can Anybody Say, "Irish Car Bomb?"

Do you know what an Irish Car Bomb is?

I didn't.

Until last night at about, well, actually, when you consider it, I mean until this morning at about 12:15 a.m. That's when I learned what an Irish Car Bomb is.

And I did one. Or drank one. Or slammed one. Whatever you want to say.

It's a shot of Bailey's mixed with Jameson Irish Whiskey dropped into a glass of Guiness and then slammed down the throat while it foams.

And that, my friends, is what did me in. It wasn't the two appletinis, the shot of Goldshlager some dumb idiot blond drunk chick bought us at like 8:30 p.m., it wasn't the four or eight or nine Stoli Os with cranberry and a splash of soda and a wedge of orange. Nope, it was the Irish Car Bomb. No wonder they call 'em Bombs.

I just got up for the day. It's 6:29 P.M.!!!!

OK, so that's not exactly true. I got up once or twice before. But not to puke!! Yay me! I am learning how to handle my liquor at the ripe old age of nearly-but-not-ready-to-admit-it 38! I got up because Friend S, her hubby, and their three kids spent the night so this a.m. was like a slumber party of sorts where we lied/laid/(OK Lied is to not tell the truth... Laid is to... well, what hubby didn't get last night!!!)... So, Friend S and I laid on the couch for a while, picking each other's toes and maybe, possibly tootin' a little bit, cuz that's what kind of friends we are.

Then, we went back to sleep, she and I, in my bed, while the hubbies lay on the couch downstairs watching TV, and the six children ages nine and under ran amuck in the house (and now that I think about it, I was just reading the other day and I think amuck is spelled amock--anyone care to google it for me cuz I'm too tired?).

When I woke up around 11 or so, she was no longer in my bed. I thought they left. I walked out of my room, and there she is in the guest room.

"I thought you left!" I accused.

"YOU SNORE!" she accuses right back. This, from the college roommate who had the CROUP cough for the two years we shared an eight x eight bedroom together.

I didn't deny the snoring.

Anyway, so now it's like nighttime and I'm ready to start my day!

Oh, the second time I got up for the day was when hubby and hubby's friend came home with Portillo's and I stuffed my face with a burger, fries, and the largest vanilla ice cream shake in the state of Illinois.

Then, I went back to bed. And dreamed weird shit.

Like that I lived in a high-rise condo, and it was infiltrated with wild animals and two bears, big ones, came into our condo, and I tried to get the kids out, and Diva was going too slowly, and finally I coerced the bears onto the balcony where I trapped them there. Then the security guy decides the only way to get all the bears out of the condo (cuz I guess the place was crawling with 'em) was for everyone to throw out food from their balconies, and then run down the stairs so then the bears would jump off the balcony to chase the food and die.

And that worked, for the bears. They jumped and died. And I think hubby was asleep in his room, unaware of the Wild Kingdom episode going on right outside. (And now I know why I was dreaming of the animals -- it's cuz Friend S and I watched a little bit of that Mutual of Omaha Animal Kingdom on the Animal Channel today while we were snuggling! Amazing how the mind works!)

But it wasn't just bears. We would try to get back into the building, and the elevator doors would open, and like a lion and a tiger and a giraffe would be in the elevator just waiting. It was a screwed-up dream.

So, that was a glimpse of my St. Patrick's Day. Drinking, a lot of dancing, some more drinking, and a taxi cab drive home where I interrogated the driver: "DO YOU SMOKE???!!"

He looked at me like he wasn't sure how I wanted him to answer so he said, "Yes?"

He told the truth. He smoked. I sniffed into the cab. It kinda smelled like florally.

"Smells OK." I said.

"I have an air filter."

"Good enough for me buddy, now take me home pal. I've had enough."

Gimme a recap of your Green Day. Hope it was cheery, fun, yet safe! And Green. It had to be green. Just like the frog.

Saturday, March 17, 2007

TWO PARTS: The Waiting Womb Novel / Husband What-Ifs

No, not mine. It's been there, done that. But, I got this book the other day from a friend who has a friend of the author and I was interested in the novel, which she, Jill Sayre, self-published. It's called The Waiting Womb. I went to her website here at: The Waiting Womb but there's no way to contact Jill Sayre, the author (whom I mistakenly referred to as Julie but that's the main character's name, so sorry, Jill) from there. You need your email address on your website!!!

Now your publicist (aka husband) posted on my site about your book, which is way weird since I already have your book. So, you see where I'm getting? Me neither, but email me so we can 'chat' about pregnancy books, and the frustrations of getting published. OK? OK. Thanks.

Other Manic News:

Hubby was away on a biz trip this past week, and of course, I couldn't tell you because then all the stalkers and wanna-be-Manic lovers would have found a way to my home to express their undying love for me, or perhaps, murder me when my spouse was not here. Fortunately, I now know how to set my house alarm, so we slept safely and securely. And no, husband is never going out of town again, so that was your one and only chance to stalk/profess your love/or murder me. Sorry pals.

Anyway, he went out of town, and when he does, or rather, did because as I mentioned above, he will no longer ever be traveling and leaving me alone, because then I might do some serious damage to the children by stuffing their faces with either sugared cereal for dinner or Happy Meals.

We went out the night before he went out of town, and I guess I'm a superstitious kinda gal, and in the back of my head, it's always, "What if the plane goes down and I never see him again" or "What if he realizes I am really a freak and he's better off staying in the West Coast?"... so, we went out, and then came home and then, uh... had amazing you-know-what. You.Know.What. But I can't actually say what You-Know-What is because my mother reads this blog. But you know what I mean. Anyway, that was nice, cuz when he left the next day, I was like basking in the afterglow, and thinking, "OK, if he kicks it, at least we ended on a high note."

Sick thinking, huh?

Well... he got back safely, and NOOOOO, we didn't You-Know-What in order to commemorate his safe homecoming, but we discovered we both have the same What-If thoughts when he goes away.

This a.m. I noticed he was drinking out of the coffee cup he had left in the bathroom the morning he went out of town.

Me: "Did you know I left that cup upstairs when you were gone, in case you died, I'd have the last coffee cup you drank out of. I'm superstitious that way."

Him: "Yeah, I did see that it was still upstairs when I got home."

Me: "And did you know that whenever you go away, I purposely do not wash all of your dirty clothes in case you die, then I have something left of you that I can sniff and smell you?" (Minus the dirty underwear--there's no way I'm sniffing those suckers!)

Him: "Well, did you notice that when I left, I kept those new shirts from Nordstrom's in the bag in the closet?"

Me: "Yeah."

Him: "Well, I figured the same thing kind of... that if I went down in a ball of flames, and didn't remove the tags and throw them away, then at least you'd be able to return the shirts and get back the $130."

I love that we're so in sync that we think this drastically insanely alike!

And obviously, I am feeling much better than the tragic post from last night. I took one of my "depression naps" that my college roommates still groan over when we rehash the old days -- the kind of nap where I'm buried underneath hoping for death, and I slept for two hours. When I woke at 6:37 and glanced at the clock, I had no idea if it was Monday or Friday, or whether it was AM or PM. Then, hubby delivered me a dozen yellow roses cuz he knew I was sad.

[The rejection came Friday, and Friday is Dollar-Rose-Day at the place by our house, so I guess I should be thanking the editor that I wasn't rejected on a Tuesday, or I would be rejected and flower-less!]

I then went to Dairy Queen with two-thirds of the kids, got a vanilla ice-cream DOUBLE-DIPPED in butterscotch, and felt much, much better.

Today, I walked to the healthclub, did yoga, got coffee with a friend who I think has completely NO IDEA that I am a writer, then we walked home. Went to lunch at Jimmy John's where I ate a Turkey Tom with avocado spread and salt-n-vinegar chips.

We are going out tonight to celebrate the occasion where you can only drink green beverages. Isn't that great? !!?! Because, we all know what my favorite beverage is, right? And it just so happens to be the most perfect color in the world:

So, hoping for more writing to surge through my veins, so I can get this next book formulated onto the screen. There is so much of it simmering in my brain, it's ready to spill out. I just need to find the time to splash it onto the screen. I've got the beginning figured out, I've got the characters dreamed up. I even have the final line written.

Time. I need that, and then it'll get done.

But for now, I'm not thinking crappy thoughts. Nope, I'm thinking...

A P P L E T I N I !

PS... Geeze, if a therapist was analyzing last night's post and this one, there is no way in hell he would think it was the same, exact person writing them. Maybe this proves that I really am truly Manic!?

Happy Patty's!

Friday, March 16, 2007

Sick To My Stomach

I think I keep my writing life pretty much hidden on this blog, about me trying to get my novel published. Today though, I'm crushed, and I'm letting myself have a good cry over it. I feel literally ill right now.

Rejection sucks. And I've had so much rejection during this journey to getting published, and I think I pretty much usually have a thick skin, but how many times can you hear good stuff about your novel, and then, "despite all that, the market is overcrowded..."

Totally sick. Why does it have to be so hard? I just want to share my novel with people who I think would want to read it. I wrote a book. So many people say in their lives that they 'should' write a book. Well, I did. And it took a long time, and it was hard, and I think I did a pretty good job at it. If I read back on some of it, I think, "Wow, I came up with that; that's cool. How did I know how to write that?" It took me from the time Tukey was eight months old until two Junes ago, like practically four years from start to finish, and then it took another year-and-a-half to find my amazing awesome, tireless agent, and now... now the publishers don't want it.

Feeling very sorry for myself, and I'm thinking it will make me feel better to write it down, get it out of my system, and then go upstairs to take a nap. I was having such a great day too, one of those fairy-tale days when you're like, "This is my life? I have it so great!" I got to go work out at the health club, then went to Starbucks. Then Tukey had Kindergarten Roundup where they give an intro to Kindergarten, and that was fun. Then I got to go out to lunch with some good friends, and I was so happy, so cheery; the sun was out. I felt healthy, and happy, and I know I have a great life, and that I'm so, so, so very lucky, and what do I have in my life that is hard, or sad, or discouraging? This, in the scheme of all things is nothing. But it's what I want. I want it so badly, and I don't know if I can do this again if it doesn't happen for me this time around after I've worked so freaking hard so far.

Now I have an "I've-cried-so-much-my-head-is-pounding" headache. And a blotchy face to go along with the latest rejection.

Thursday, March 15, 2007

Food, Words, Mustache

"No offense, mom, but it looks like you're growing a mustache."

This from Diva this afternoon.

And earlier today, when Tukey and I were snuggling in a strip of sunlight on the couch, playing our favorite Kitty-Cat Game, he delivered a similar blow: "Mom, you have a tiny mustache," as he brushed the fine hairs on my upper lip delicately.

Twice in one day. What self-esteem damage! As if I'm not having a difficult enough time with the weight factor, and the skin factor, and the "I'll-be-thirty-eight-in-less-than-thirty-days" factor, I've now got to figure out how to handle facial hair and my inquisitive, endearing, yet completely, totally honest children.

I've always had a little bit of this problem, and I've always been an upper-lip bleacher. I guess I haven't been keeping up with my grooming tasks.

So, here's the thing. I figured out the two things I always think about, well, the majority of the time:

1. Food, eating, dieting, my weight

2. Writing, and why I'm not in a good place, a zone, right now.

If every time I thought of food, I came to the computer and wrote about why I was thinking about food, maybe I could get to the core of the problem. I, for sure, positively know that I am an emotional eater, a stress-eater. The kids do something to annoy me, I start shoveling in the mac 'n' cheese. Diva starts whining, I get out the ice cream. Tukey pulls one of his "I-should-be-in-an-anger-management-class-for-five-year-olds" stunts, and I tackle a bag of chips. It's just the way I am, have always been.

And as I'm shoving whatever it is down my gullet, my brain is saying, "This is so not very good; you're going to feel way bad after you're done chewing." And I know this, but there's some spot in my brain that is also saying, "I don't give a damn. I need this because it's calming me down, settling this disruption in my life, chilling me out." And I'm eating so fast, I don't even know for sure if it tastes good.

I should just chew a wad of gum instead. Do they make brownie-flavored gum? That might just be what saves me.

And, the other thing: I have diligently, reverently been working out and going to the gym. In fact, I have kept track of my gym visits (and yes, I'm actually doing some sort of exercise there, not just hanging out chit-chatting!) and nothing's budging. I mean, come on, shouldn't something be happening. Whatever, I'm getting crabby just posting about this, to the point of where I might just say fuck it and go into the kitchen to devour anything that resembles chocolate and salt.

Right after I go upstairs and bleach this son-of-a-bitch 'stache!

Monday, March 12, 2007

The Test

Stephanie Klein posted this writing exercise on her blog that I'm guessing she had written a long while ago. It reminded me that I had done a 'dialogue-only' writing exercise in a class about five years ago. I found it, and here it is.

The Test (dialogue)

Let’s take the test now.

It’s not a “let's” thing.

OK, you take the test now.

I don’t think now is a good time.

Why not? You’re 10 days late already. Why not now?

The package says you should take it first thing in the morning.

Come on, you’re stalling. What are you afraid of anyway? We WANT to be pregnant… Don’t we?

Yeah, of course. I’m just scared.

Just take the test. I’m going crazy here. I want to know if we are or if we aren’t.

Oh, alright. Wait out here…

Are you peeing yet?

I haven’t even taken it out of the package.

Geeze…. I can’t hear yoouuuuu.


Turn the water on or something. That’ll make you go.


What's your frigging problem?

The problem is I could be pregnant and if I am then my whole world is going to turn upside down crazy and inside out all at once! And… I’m gonna get fat.

Come out here.


Hug me. [hug] Listen carefully. I love you. We want a family. We’re in this together. I promise I’ll be there for you.

So, you’ll gain the weight and puke for me?

If I could, I would even do the breastfeeding.

You’re nuts.

No, you are. Now go piss on that stick!

Come in with me.


It says here that you have to keep the stick under the stream of urine for 60 seconds. How’m I gonna do that?

Chug some water first.

Never mind. I’ll just go and hope a lot comes out.

You going?

Can’t you hear it?

Keep pushing so more comes out. Make sure to get that stick really saturated.

Oh God, I am so freaking out right now. Look at your watch. Tell me when two minutes is up.

We have to wait two freaking minutes?

Keep talking to me so I don’t have to think about what’s going on.

Hey, look at the stick. It looks like you got it wet enough.



Cuz it’s like a pot of water. If you look at it, it might not boil.

This thing is supposed to boil?

No… just a figure of speech. I am too nervous here to think straight. What’s it doing?

It looks like some purple-y fluid is seeping through the test. You sure you read the instructions?

YEH-ESS, what kind of idiot do you think I am?

The kind I’m happy I married.


Only yours.

How much time has passed?

54 seconds.

It says that it could take up to five minutes for a test result. You have to wait that long to confirm a negative reading.

There’s not gonna be a negative one. I just know you’re pregnant.

What makes you so sure?

I was there, remember?

Vaguely, I was kinda drunk.

I’d say. Some of the best sex ever.

At least one of us remembers.

So, do you think it’ll be a boy or a girl?

Will you stop talking like that? We don’t even know yet!

Would you be mad at me if I said I wanted a boy?

Pretty much. That is just rude. You should just want a healthy baby. How much time now?

A minute 15.

Come on already. Could this take any longer? What’s it doing?

Now the windows are completely purple. Can’t see a line or anything.

Do you like the name Madison?

As in Avenue? Or President?


Just trying to keep it light baby. Is that a line?

That’s the line that is supposed to be there. That’s the test window. If the other one matches up…

Hey, check that out!


No Way! We are SSOOOO pregnant!

Holy shit. OH… MY… GOD. We can’t tell ANYBODY!

What? Why not?

Because, we have to wait to make sure. We can’t just go around telling people we’re pregnant unless we’re positive.

Honey, it doesn’t get any more positive than those two purple lines right there. Go call your mom.

Sunday, March 11, 2007

Potty Stuff

The whole incident from the other day made an impression on Diva. Now, when she goes to use the toilet, this is what she asks me:

"Mom, can I lock the door? I won't do anything."

"Yes, I know you won't do anything bad in there."

I trust her. I know she's learned her lesson... Plus, I got rid of all the toothbrushes.

Friday, March 09, 2007

Secrets of Diva Love

Whew, two posts in one day, but this one was too good to not share; one of those little kid stories that as soon as it occurred, I was like, "That's a Blogger!" and we all cracked up.

So, we're at Diva and Ajer's school today for parent/teacher conference and while we're waiting, Diva's crush is there too, waiting for his mom to be done with his sister's conference (he is a TRIPLET!).

The two of them are giggling, chatting, doing what seven-year-olds do when they're crushing on each other. I had a chance to talk to the mom, who I have never met, and I asked her if she saw the Valentine Diva made for her son. It was a special one; one that said, "Will you be my Valentine?" and "Please say yes!" and even "Love Diva."

I told the mom that Diva didn't make anyone else's Valentine, just his. So now she knows Diva has a crush on her son! She was impressed... although Diva's like two heads taller than this little kid who was no doubt a preemie when he was born!

Anyway, later, at lunch, after I took Tukey to preschool, it was just Diva, Ajers and me, and we all agreed the dynamics had switched a little. Things seemed a little bit calmer. As much as I adore and love Tukey, he is my little Anger-Management Man, and he and Ajers can go at it quite fiercely. So, it was a calm lunch, and we all were getting along, and we were talking about how Diva likes this little boy.

I asked her, "Do you think he likes you?"

She shook her head up and down confidently, and said, "Yep."

"Well, how do you know for sure he likes you?" I asked.

She thought a moment and then said, "Because, he eye contacts me."

6 AM?!?! WTF??

Good morning!

So, today is a day where I would be able to sleep in -- same as yesterday -- because the kids have parent/teacher conferences so there was no school today and yesterday. But it's 6 AM and I'm up. WHY!?!? I could sleep for another two hours if I wanted to. I already threatened the kids last night with the "Don't wake me up unless there's blood" rule, and told them to eat whatever they could forage until I got up. Boy, will they be surprised when they come down and see me up.

And yesterday... whew... after yesterday, I should be sleeping. No school for the older kids, so Diva had a sleepover with a non-poop-on-toothbrush neighbor girl here at our house, while my little Tukey slept over at his buddy's house -- one of his first sleepovers! I missed the little guy. I need to figure out how to do YouTube because he does this facial gesture like the bear Boog in Open Season where he raises his eyebrows and makes each move separately and it is just hysterical. I told him last night when I tucked him in, "If I'm ever yelling at you, and you want to make me laugh, all you have to do is that with your eyebrows and I will crack up."

Wait. Did I just tell him how to get out of being in trouble. Stupid mom, stupid mom.

Back to yesterday... so, sleepover's are over and Diva's friend is still here and then poop-friend's mom calls, and I've already decided I love poop-friend's mom and I will not tell what happened until the girls are like 18 and we're all sitting around and then I'll bring it up and by then, we'll probably all laugh. Anyway, she needed someone to watch PF, which I am not referring to her as that anymore, because if you knew this little girl, you too would fall in love with her, so now I will refer to her as Diva's BF. So I said to have her come over.

Now, I've got five kids crawling around the house, and I sneak up to my room and actually watch a little bit of Oprah. Which, I could, if I wanted to, watch Oprah every day of my life, but I just don't. So I did, and it was kinda luxurious, and kinda sneaky, hiding out in my room while five children ran amuck in the house.

I hear they are cutting and taping, and I yell out to them, "Don't put any tape on the walls!"

Here is where I wish my camera would have cooperated because I did take a picture of their 'masterpiece' but can't upload the photos right now, and the only instruction book I can find are the French and Spanish ones! They created paper chains and hung them all from the top of the stairs down into the foyer. It looks like someone decorated for a party. There was scrap paper everywhere and strips of paper just hanging all over the place.

I'm not taking them down. They're kinda neat. I need to figure out my camera.

So, later on, I take the girl who slept over home, I took Tukey to preschool, I took Ajers to his friend's house, who calls himself, so cutely, 'THE ENFORCER.' And I take Diva's BF with me to the health club where I do a quick workout while she's in the play area.

Sidenote: I did a strength training class on Wed that kicked my A$$!!! So much so that when I tell you about how I took the kids to bowling later and bought them fries, I was trying to pump out the ketchup from the dispenser and I couldn't do it because the place in my body where there should be abs was K I L L I N G ME. I seriously could not use my left hand to pump out ketchup because the 'wheretheabsshouldbespot' was killing! That is either incredibly sad, or either something awesome that I should be doing to my body daily.

After the gym, it was just Diva's BF and me, so I figured I would set the record straight about the little incident.

"Did you know Diva was grounded?"


"Do you know why she was grounded?"

"Uh huh."

"That's never going to happen again, is it?"


"And you're lucky I'm so cool and I'm not going to tell your mom."

But you can bet I will be refreshing their memories anytime one of them act up in my presence.

So, not sure if it was the best way to handle, but, and especially after hearing all of YOUR poop stories, well, they're seven-year-old kids and they didn't go outside and gut a squirrel and then make Tukey eat it or anything like that. And, the toothbrush, it was confirmed, never made it THANK GOD into Tukey's mouth.

Then Diva's BF proceeded to talk my ear off and eat a whole container of fruit with me when we got home.

Next up -- pick up Tukey from school, pick up Diva from the party (where I forgot to mention, before the party, she wipes out on the sidewalk and scrapes her face to a bloody pulp, and her knee, and required two bandaids for her face, one for her leg, and of course, she's Drama Queen, and looked like she either just got into a really bad fight, or had kiddie-plastic-surgery)... pick up ANOTHER of Diva's friend's, and then Ajers and the Enforcer.

Can ya count 'em? Six kids.

The ratio was six kids to one parent.

Know what I did?

I took 'em all bowling.

And then to McDonald's new rockin' play area where they ran and jumped and screamed and played hide-and-seek, and ate fries where the dispenser there was much easier to pump, and guzzled water cuz I already spent too much $$ at bowling, and chased each other and had a great time for like an hour and a half.


Today on tap: I'm deserving a yoga class. Then I've got parent / teacher conferences, a book fair, Tukey to school, then I'll probably take them swimming.

Do you wonder why I call myself Manic Mom?

And finally, of course, I'm saving THE BEST for last! Stop over at BBFF Swishy to wish her the happiest birthday ever!

Have a great birthday Swish, and everyone else, if it's your birthday too, happy birthday to you, and have a great weekend!

Peace UP!

Wednesday, March 07, 2007

Uncontrollable Urges

I am in my house alone, and I just said, out loud, "I think I want to lay on the couch." I have this incredible urge to do so; it's almost like a magnetic force is pulling me out of this chair and into the living room.

Why was I just talking to myself out loud? Did I want to hear my voice? Am I lonely? There are a ton of clothes in the laundry room that need to be folded; why is that magnetic force not pulling me in that direction. Why are my eyes getting heavy, and my thoughts leaning toward snuggling in the year-round-Christmas blanket we keep in the living room (hey, it matches) and just closing my eyes to see what will happen.

I'm going to go do that, but I promise to come back and let you know how it went...

OK, so I was on the couch, all scrunched up, head tucked under the pillow AND the blanket, my hands clasped together and in between my legs to keep them warm (NO SICKOS!), and then I started thinking I misused the word LAY in this post, so I laid there (doing it again!), wondering if I used proper grammar or if it should have been lie, lied, laid, lay, have lain... I sooo hate that word that most of the time if I have to use it, I'll change the context of the sentence in order not to screw up. I guess that's just my "perfectionist" nature in me! Ha, yeah right.

Laundry still not folded. Dishes still in sink. Thinking about eating frozen pizza for dinner.

Enlighten me -- What are some of your uncontrollable urges?

Monday, March 05, 2007

I Am Disgusted

While we were at the dentist today, and Diva was getting sealants on her molars, I hear Ajers telling something to Tukey.

"Poop... toilet... toothbrush...sister and her friend..."


I get Ajers to tell me what happened. Apparently, Diva and her friend thought it would be fun to wipe Tukey's toothbrush over some poop that friend had deposited into the toilet and then put the toothbrush back in its place.

I am freaking out appalled over this and don't know what to do, what reaction to have, what repurcussions to instill as a punishment. I seriously am shocked that they would do something this stupid, this cruel, this mean to her little brother. She's not a mean kid. And that is the meanest thing I've ever heard a kid doing deliberately to a sibling.

As soon as Ajers told Tukey what had been done to his toothbrush, he got upset. I immediately told Ajers to quit making stuff up and he insisted his sister told him that's what they did.

I didn't believe it. How could they? I told the boys to quit discussing it and that I would find out when Diva got out of the dentist.

She came out, I told the boys to wait and I took her aside.

"What happened with Tukey's toothbrush?"

The look on her face, well, it was completely obvious that she knew she had done something terribly wrong, and she knew she had to tell me the truth because I have always told them "The truth will set you free."

They really did it.

I can't believe it. I am so disgusted right now; I feel like crying; I feel literally sick to my stomach.

She cried, "I wish I could start my whole life over!" And is all apologetic, asking if she can call her friend over so they can discuss it. I'm torn. Do I call the mom? I love the kid; she is like a second daughter to us. We adore her. Do I just talk to her myself, and not tell the parents, cuz I love her parents too. I know she will be feeling remorseful. They should both be feeling terrible for this. How to punish Diva? Make her brush her teeth with a dirty toothbrush? Pull a Mommy Dearest on her? Ground her? Tell her father, which I will, but I think she is terrified of him. She said, "Don't tell Daddy, he'll kill me."

She completely knows it was wrong. I just need to know how to handle it. Because I have to handle this, don't I? I can't let her get away with it. This is unacceptable, and I am mortified.

UPDATE: So, Hubby gets home, I make Diva come upstairs with us and we explain what happened, decide on a punishment to fit the crime, and no, we are not making her brush her teeth with poo, and then she goes into her room to cry. Hubby and I sit quietly, discussing how we're both pretty much mortified that our darling kind sweet and loving daughter would pull such crap (pun intended!) and then he goes into the bathroom.

A couple minutes later, he comes out, and he's brushing his teeth and all I can think of is that from now on, every time we brush our teeth we will remember that our daughter put poo on our son's toothbrush, deliberately and cruelly.

Hubby, still brushing his teeth, looks at me thoughtfully, and in the only words that would completely absolve our daughter, he confesses:

"I did that in college once."

Sunday, March 04, 2007


I got my hair chopped yesterday. Totally short. Some people referred to it as "sassy." It's short. I hated the bulk of it, of having to pull it up into a rubberband at night so I wouldn't get a mouthful of hair when I slept. I hated putting it up in a stupid hairband to keep it out of my face. It just bugged me. And it wasn't long by any means, just long for me. I think I've always had medium-length hair, except when I met Hubby. It was this short then. I hated that it took me like 15 minutes to dry it and use a roller brush, not that 15 minutes is a long time, but I'm all about the quickness. Now I'm guessing it'll take me like four minutes to dry and style it. I love that. My cutter girl, stylist, whatever you call the girl who cuts hair, always laughs at me because usually I get my hair done on a weeknight and I tell her, "You don't need to put a bunch of stuff in it or style it too fancy. I'm just going home and going to bed after this." She laughs, but I think it secretly bums her out that she only gets to do half the stuff of a hair-do. And not the fun stuff. Not the spray-a-bunch-of-'product'-into-hair-and-fluff-it-up fun things.

Yesterday, I told her, "Go crazy with the 'product!' Style it up! I am going out tonight so it has to look good!" So she did, and it looked nice, and when I got home, Hubby liked it and said, "Oh, it's going to be like being with a whole new woman!"

So, sassy new Manic with a new hair-do. Easy. That's what I'm about. The simple things. One time I told Hubby that I wanted something more out of life, that my goal was to "Simplify and Enrich." I think I've started with the hair.

So, this a.m., I'm sitting at the computer, and Ajers comes in to greet me good morning, and he plants the sweetest kiss on my cheek. I can smell his stinky didn't-brush-my-teeth-yet breath, and am thinking, Oh, what a sweet kid I have. What a nice way to start my morning. Oh, how much I love him!

Then, he says, "I don't like your hair like that." And walks away.

Friday, March 02, 2007

Game Time

Ask Manic...


Thursday, March 01, 2007

Manic, Law & Order Style

Notes taken while doing my civic duty as a United States citizen:

8:45 a.m.—
OK, so far, this is really weird to me. I’m sitting in a real courtroom. I’ve never been in a real courtroom before. I feel kind of famous! I have an end seat at least so that is good but I wonder if the person behind me is reading this? I’m not sure what I was expecting but I didn’t think I’d be thrown into a real live courtroom waiting for a judge. Oh, and yeah, they put me up front and the guy said he’ll explain why once we get started. I’m kind of excited maybe I should read the Handbook for Grand Jurors they gave me. Nah. I’ll just wing it. We had to go through security and I have two bottles of water with me. The guard asked me to open one and take a drink. I was so close to being a wiseass and saying, “Can I handle my vodka or what?” after I drank it. That might have gotten me kicked out for sure!

OK. More people came in. I’m going to look around for a while. More later.

8:52 a.m.—
OK, I’m already annoyed by the woman next to me who keeps clearing her throat and swiveling in her chair. How annoying. I’m in a real courtroom!

I can’t wait to stand up and place my hand on my heart – will I say the Pledge? Oh, people are moving out. Wonder if the judge is a man or a woman? Wonder if I’ll have a chance to change my tampon? Wonder when this lady will stop fanning herself and clearing her throat!?! I think she needs a smoke.

Ooh, They all went into another room and said hello to the judge. They’re laughing. And now calling people’s numbers and moving them around the room. I wonder if anyone will snicker when they call number 69? I guess I was expecting to be in a cafeteria-like room, with cushy chairs like a waiting room. Damn this woman next to me with her fanning of herself! Definitely menopausal. How fucking annoying, but I like her shoes. They look like mine.

So much for my Law & Order debut. They asked if it would be a hardship to go to court every Tuesday for the next three months. TWELVE TUESDAYS! I explained my situation of having no family and that I thought it would take some time to find care for Tukey, and then Diva and Ajers after school. The judge excused me. I’m kinda bummed. I feel a little let down, and like I let down my country or the innocent people I could have saved! Plus, there would have been a tour of the jail! Plus, there were hot guys at the courthouse!

Oh well, back to the life of a Manic-Stay-At-Home-Never-Do-Anything-Exciting Mom…