Manic Mom Has Found Her Niche

Remember a couple weeks ago I attended a friend's 40th dinner party and had the opportunity to meet a gorgeous man who was a dead ringer for Patrick Dempsey?

Well, this is one of those amazing Internet stories. A MM reader (shout-out Kami!) contacted me because she had been searching for a Dempsey look-a-like.

AREN'T WE ALL?

She needed a look-a-like to work a trade show in the persona of Dempsey for a pharmaceutical company who has something to do with the props of Grey's Anatomy.

Well, I put Kami in touch with gorgeous look-a-like and now he's going to Florida in March, all expenses paid PLUS will be making TWO GRAND for his weekend appearance as a Patrick Dempsey look-a-like!

And all because of my little blog! Will wonders never cease!

So, if you look like someone famous, email me and I can get you a big-time job! LOL!


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

In other Manic news, Hubby this a.m. mentioned to me, "Did you see a strand of lights is out?"

"YES! I! KNOW! And if you read my blog, you'll know I offered you a public apology about you not wanting to do the lights, and that I've now converted to Judeaism!"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Finally, did you know I started the New Year earlier this year, as in like Monday? I started with my every-Monday-is-diet-day Monday diet, and have actually written down what I've eaten, kept track of points (although Ms. Diva's outrageous and completely unacceptable majorly-the-worst-tantrum-in-her-entire-life last night caused me to shove two peppermint patties into my mouth in order to immediately calm my nerves, and yes, it did work)...

I've 'hit' the gym (stupid term!) Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and will be going today. Been power walking and doing fitness yoga, and the 15-minute Ab Lab (which I can't even last 15-minutes folks, but the instructor assures us to go at our own pace, so I usually lie there on my back with my arms splayed open, eyes closed in a pretended state of shivasana).

But, I'm trying. Cuz, and yes, mom, you don't want to read this, but I.Am.Fat. Again.
Sorry. I had my day. It's somebody else's turn. But I'm aware of this, and am watching what I eat and exercising. Damn. I hate that my mom reads this. (143) And no, that number is NOT my weight--I wish it was!

Flu shots for all three kids and me yesterday. In preparation of the season.

And a winter storm advisory is on its way. Looking forward to about the first inch of snow. After that, notsomuch.

Have a great day. If you opt not to, then have a Manic day! And if you're really feeling the love, share a little Manic with someone you think might enjoy some Manic humor; I'd love to get some more readers!

Thanks for reading, and especially thanks for commenting--it's like the fuel for my gas tank!

Peace Out!

Why I Wish I Was Jewish

This is a rant.

And a public apology to my husband for not wanting to deal with the Christmas lights.

THEY FREAKING SUCK BIG FAT CHRISTMAS SCHWEDDY BALLS!

There, I feel better.

OK, I spent Saturday putting up the lights; they are multicolored and kind of pretty, and I felt a real sense of accomplishment having done the job myself.

Then, just last night, a freaking string of lights died.

OK, shit happens, not a biggie, this just gave me an excuse to go to Target today to return the one strand, get a store credit for $7.93 and then promptly go to the Starbucks in the Target and spend it all on a grande-three-pumps-only-non-fat-peppermint-mocha-no-whip-because-I'm-counting-points (another reason for my crabbiness and need to rant!).

This stupid freaking strand of lights ended up costing me one-hundred-and-eighty-one dollars this morning. I HATE COMMERCIALISM and RETAIL and their never-ending ploy to get us to spend money!

But, I did buy another two boxes of lights, and went outside this afternoon and cheerily wrapped them around some bushes, and even stapled some to the front of our house over the garage (shhh, don't tell hubby this!).

I just went outside and you guessed it...

ANOTHER FREAKING STRAND OF STUPID LIGHTS IS DEAD! WTF!?!?!?

So, if I was Jewish, then all I'd have to do is eat potato pancakes and play with a dreidel, and get a cute blue-and-white Mennorah to put in my front window, and I'd also get like eight day's worth of presents.

I was relaying this info to Swishy, who told me she would convert with me as well, because she also hates the commercialism of Christmas but then I was struck with a thought and I said maybe I didn't want to convert because I am not sure I'd be up for the circumcision, ya know?

This post is in no way making fun of the Jewish religion, I have a lot of Jewish friends, and know how to play the dreidel game. I will equally make fun of Santa Clause and that whole ruse in the coming weeks, you can be sure. Call me Bobat, or whoever that guy is!

UPDATE: THE FREAKING LIGHTS I PURCHASED TODAY AND PUT UP OVER THE GARAGE ON THE HOUSE HAVE NOW BURNED OUT SO THAT ONLY HALF THE STRING IS LIT. I'm going to the synagogue.

A Couple of Ha-Ha's

Driving through the area where we used to live, hubby asks Ajers, "So, does any of this look familiar to you?"

He stretches his neck around, peeks out the window, observes the playground he used to play at, sees the gas station we used to fill up at, notices a neighborhood that looks familiar and then says, "Yeah, it's starting to look familiar to me..."

And then he looks around some more...

"Aren't we near the place where mom got her tattoo?"




~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

So, it's like 60 degrees out today and everyone, and I mean EVERYONE (except maybe High School Prom Queen) is out putting their Christmas and holiday lights up. I suggest to hubby that today would be a GREAT day to do this chorethatnobodylikestodobutyouhavetobecause
ifyoudon'tyou'lllooklikescrooge.

He mumbles something about hating it, goes to the garage later, plugs in a few strands and declares them all not working properly so he throws them out.

Fine, I say. I'll just go over to Target and buy new lights and do them myself, you scroogy-bastard fucker. (I didn't really say that, I just thought it, and I wasn't even thinking it that meanly.)

As I'm heading out the door, I hear him talking to his friend on the phone explaining how it's the one chore he hates to do (don't get me started on the fact that it took TWO YEARS to hang a five-dollar picture up from TJ Maxx, and I'm still waiting for him to replace the toilet mechanism that flushes ... just wait till the toilet stops working and I'm sure it'll be all my fault...

DIGRESSING HERE!

Anyway, he's telling his friend how he doesn't want to do it, and how all the lights are not working and how he told me to go to Target to pick up some new lights.

I hear him say, "Yeah, I told her to go spend twenty or thirty bucks for new lights for the house."

Bahawhahahahahahahah!

He must be in Disneyland if he thinks we can decorate a half a tree for twenty bucks.

Who the hell is he kidding?

Anyway, I managed to keep the cost to below $70 with an extra box left behind. I did all the lights, and I'm going out there now to see how they look.

Bah Humbug Scroogy Man, Bah Humbug.

Thankfulness

For many things over the past nine days, and now, especially for Home Sweet Home.

Hope you all had a blessed, wonderful, food-family-and-friends-filled Thanksgiving!

Manic

M A N I C O U T

of her mind.
of coffee.
out of town...

H A P P Y T U R K E Y D A Y...

And, even though I don't particularly go oh-my-goodness-crazy over the holiday, it is the day my husband asked me to marry him, while I was hungover, and during half-time of the Bears game, just minutes before I was going to go take a nap, and in front of both of our families. . .

So, I guess it's a special holiday.

Hope yours is too. I've got a shitload to be thankful for. I have to remember that. Hope you do too!

Manic Mom’s Not Gone Yet.

Or is she?

Morning quote to child who would not listen to me explain his math homework (and yeah, you figure it out; me, trying to help with math… it’s a terrible equation).

“If you don’t get over here right now and work with me on this, I swear to you, I’m going to bang my head against the freakin’ counter until it bleeds.”

That got his attention.

They say you need a thick skin to handle rejection as a writer. Hell, you need an even thicker skin to handle rejection as a mother.

They were both soooo mad this morning. I was just trying to help them. She was pissed because I was helping him with his math when her belt needed to be fixed and he was getting the attention first.

He was crying. She was scowling. There wasn't enough of me to make things better for my babies.

My God, I am not an octopus. I’ve always wondered why God didn’t make mothers’ octopi, for we are truly the species that needs and deserves eight arms/hands. And the ability to breathe underwater, because I am certainly feeling like I’m drowning here as a mom.

It’s going to be a terrible day. I told them I was sorry we all had had a rough morning. I was sorry the belt wasn’t right. I was sorry math was so hard.

I seriously feel sick to my stomach, and it’s been this way since they went out the door. And when I think about this morning's scene, my eyes get soggy and tears come. All I was doing was trying to help, and I couldn't even do it.

It’s the first day they left for the bus and didn’t say “I love you.”

Things and Stuff and Other Things

So, you're gonna hate me, but I've just been out Christmas shopping!

And I'm feeling so freakin' festive it's unbelievable! This is the way to do it folks; there are no lines, no grumpy customers, no tired retail staff, and NOT TOO MUCH XMAS MUZAK yet. Everyone was so nice and kind and joyous, you woulda thought Christmas was tomorrow! Tis the season; man, I am feeling it!

A very cool thing was that I had the 'old' iPod shuffle, which, in comparison to the New Ones, was a dinosaur and just way, way, way too big (sarcasm--the original shuffles were like the size of a pack of Extra Gum). So, I heard there was a new smaller version out, and I had paid for the two-year warranty thingamagig at Best Buy, so I took my old one back, and got the new version, which, folks, just happened to cost half as much as the first one, so, not only did I get the cool new iPod shuffle, I also got sixty-two bucks credit!

Yahooooo! Yes, I am a smart shopper.

Next up, I went out and bought my kids stuff. With.My.Own.Money.

Which made me feel really proud and happy. As a stay-at-home mom, it's hard sometimes to buy presents on the credit card that is paid for by your husband's hard-earned money each month, so I took my check from the web work I do, cashed it, and bought Christmas presents with cash. And next month, I'm going to do exactly the same.

Feeling good in the 'hood!

Anyway, going to be taking a short hiatus from Blogging, but wanted to wish you a Happy Thanksgiving (can you believe it is in ONE WEEK!?), and also, wanted to leave you with this little conversation I had with Tukey tonight.

So, Tukey sleeps in his skivvies. He's cute that way. His little body is so cute, I could just squeeze the heck out of him. He's running around the house tonight in his Cars boxer-briefs, and he comes in here to my office with his hands hanging out in his pants.

Me: "What do ya got in those pants? Why do you have your hands in there?"

Tukey, looks thoughtful for a moment, leans in closer to me, hands still checking things out in there, and he says...

SIDENOTE: please, if you're drinking a beverage right now, please, for the sake of your keyboard, move it away from your lips.

So, Tukey leans in, looks at me all serious, and delivers the news:

... "There's items in there."

3:33 A.M.

Anyone besides Karyn and me up at this ungodly hour (for me anyway, Karyn is a night owl so she's been up)?

Anyway, it was 3:33 a.m. and I just woke up for some reason, with lots of things about nothing on my mind. Like the stuff I have to do today, which isn't all that important... yoga, oil change, Tukey conference, but I just couldn't sleep and that is so unlike me. I llooooooooove my sleepy time. I crave it. I do not know why I'm awake, unless the caffeine from my two McDonald's iced teas hit me hard.

I've stopped, cold turkey, drinking diet Coke. Don't miss it at all. Not that much. It's been almost a month I think. I can't say if I feel better or not, I can't say it's making me lose weight, but I am just glad to know I can say I'm going to stop something and then do it and not feel ... however you're supposed to feel when you give up an addiction, no matter how miniscule.

Along with giving up diet Coke for a while, I have also started thinking about my New Year's resolutions, which I do around this time every year. I should check the archives to see what I failed to do the past two prior New Year's. Next month, I will have been blogging for two years continuously. It's exhausting. Hey, I think this may be tiring me out! Great! I'm even boring myself!

So, resolutions. I went to Target today (where I did get my nonfactpeppermintmochaonlythreepumpsmochabutwithwhiptoo -- three pumps vs. four is the way to go. If this is your drink, try it. Trust me. Better.

I decided I needed one of those microdermabrasion thingies they sell because I am tired of scrutinizing my 37-year-old face and searching for little areas to excavate. So, I got the Neutrogena Microdermabrasion Kit, and tried it tonight. It felt good. I have to use it for 5 days, massaging away the dead cells, making the canvas (aka My face) smooth and clear, and then take a week off. We'll see what happens. If nothing else, the face massager might be put to use elsewhere. I wondered that. How many people buy microdermabrasion kits only to end up using the thingamagig as a vibrator? Don't worry, I wouldn't really do that with it. I already have something for that.

Onto a different body part: my scaled and cracked feet. So, I decided I was working on my face, I should also start caring for my feet, which I wish I would have taken a before and after photo of how my heels looked before I used THIS AMAZING PRODUCT on my heels. They are singing a beautiful song right now even, and I used the cream like seven hours ago. You can get it at Target for ten bucks. (If sales go up, I'd like a cut please, Miracle Foot!) So far, the products have not disappointed!

Here's another thing. Do you check your receipts when you get home from the grocery store or Target? You should. I hate when I come home and I look at it (because I used to never, and so many times shit happens, sometimes in your favor though, so you just take those as teeny gifts!)... but yesterday's receipt, I was like, "What the hell is CADDY?" I didn't buy any CADDY thing, and THERE'S TWO OF THEM ON THE RECEIPT! And something else called an SS TRAY!?!?!? WTF. I did not buy any trays or caddies. So I call up the store and give them the numbers of the items and the woman is like, "It's a SpongeBob caddy, like a container, it looks like."

"The only SpongeBob thing I bought was SpongeBob Cheeze-It crackers!" (WHich as a sidenote, I would never eat, and here's something you probably didn't know about Manic... she hates Goldfish, even the colored ones -- see I'm not selective or racist--I hate them all!!)

OK, am sure I'm forgetting something on this wayward post... Oh, one more thing, go by Karyn's and tell her something physically stupid you've done to yourself (can't be like "I got a tattoo" either, cuz we all have 'em!), or to someone you know and/or love and/or didn't know but had the urge to do them harm for whatever reason.

And lastly, Karyn told me that Dustin wrote I HEART MANIC MOMMY on her blog, and that made me smile. Like when you're in junior high and a friend says, "Ooh, I heard that so-and-so thinks you're nice," (or cute, or fun, or manic, or whacky, whatever)... it's just nice to be validated, especially by a cute bachelor! Tee hee hee...

Oh, that wasn't lastly, this is lastly:... OK, nevermind, that is all because stupid Blogger won't let me post the picture to go along with the story I wanted to tell about my first boyfriend and my Catholic upbringing, so it'll have to wait for another 3:33 a.m. post.

So... GOOD MORNING EVERYONE! What have YOU done today!?

Oh, My Poor Baby is so Sick!

Ajers is sick today. Diva left for school, and Tukey and I went upstairs to check on Ajers. We discussed his symptoms for a minute, and then he looked at the clock, noting it was 7:57 a.m.

Ajers: “I can’t believe 17 minutes ago the most beautiful girl in the world walked out the front door.”

Me: “Your sister?”

Ajers: “Yes. I miss her.”

Dear God, the kid is delirious!

Mud And Stuff

OK, I am like two seconds from falling asleep; suddenly everything I have been doing all week has caught up with me and I am cranky, tired, exhausted, and ready to throw in the towel. I need a serious break from these kids, and I ain't getting it any time soon because they had school off today and will not be in tomorrow either for parent/teacher conferences.

And this is not how I wanted to start out this post, with a woe-is-me-my-day-hath-sucked because it hadn't at all. I had a GREAT day with the kids. It was the most amazing, most beautiful day in the world today (well, for November 8 in Chicago, that is).

I wore shorts. The kids wore shorts and flip flops. It was THAT WARM here. Yes, you East coasters can expect this weather on Friday I bet. Cripes allmighty, Tukey is on the stairs whining and griping about how he is going to have a Mr. Meaty bad dream and begging me, pretty-pretty-pretty-pretty-pretty please can he sleep with his sister cuz he's scared and you know what, this is a total rant, free for all post right now i'm not even going to go back and check for typos.

Here I was going to get all flowery and tell you about our beautiful fun day in which I awoke with no hangover from the surprise birthday party I went to last night. First of all, I got my hair fixed in what I called my "Highlights and Happy Hour" at the salon I go to and my girl was soooo great, she didn't even charge me because I had been unhappy with my hair from Saturday (reference back to when the kids said I was looking kinda Goth).

So, free highlights, and then I had a glass of wine while I was getting them done.
After that, I had just two appletinis at the birthday party, which was a lot of fun, and had I not been a responsible adult with a babysitter at home, a husband out of town and a curfew, I might have gotten into trouble with my newly "sexed-up" hair, as Amanda my colorist called it.

I am totally IGNORING TUKEY right now as he is still begging me for something on the stairs and I'm thinking in my head that I really have my fingers in my ears and I'm going lalalalalalalalalal, I can't hear you! Lalallalalaalal, I'm not paying attention.

God, you'd think I was on crack right now. You should see how fast I'm typing this just because I want to get it out and get my butt into my bed because I am so tired.

Reason I'm tired: OK, last night is part of it, I stayed out kinda late for a Wednesday night, and then today when we all got up and realized it was a "Knock Your D In The D Day" (more on that later, but go ahead and guess what THAT means, and yep, my Father made it up and it's now a family phrase!)...

We went for a walk/bikeride to Starbucks and it was so nice out but I kept yelling at the kids. See, I can't even make this a nicey-nicey post because I'm so freaking in need of a break right now, and here the phone is ringing...

OK, I'm back. And beggging Tukey not to cry, and yes, dammit, i see i put too many Gs on the begging word but I'm not making any corrections.

So, we did the starbucks walk, bikeride thing and it was okay, great to be outside, terrific to see golfers on the course enjoying the beautiful weather as we walked along the path to the starbucks.

Got home, and then I decided, who the hell needs to clean up the kitchen or do laundry on a day like this. So we went to the Morton Arboretum, and here again, I am too lazy to link you so if you're that interested, you can google it and find out about this beautiful sanctuary of trees and shit. Seriously. It is gorgeous. We played in the children's garden, hiked up some forestty hills. I watched Diva pick six dandelions and then blow them all at once, wishing so much I had a camera and that I had it on black and white mode because the picture of her blowing the dandelion into the very mellow wind was beautiful. Then I watched as Tukey chased a squirrel with a nut in its mouth, saying, "Come here, squirrelly, come here! I'm not going to hurt you!" Later, I said, "What do you think the squireel's name was?" I knew what his answer would be and I was right: Squirrelly.

So, then, our feets were tired and sore so they asked if they could take off their shoes so I said yes, and then we all took them off and our socks too, and wow, what did manic mom let her children do?

We squished our feet through some yucky, mucky, squishy, wet and slimy mud and it was the coolest, most fun, best thing to do and people were looking at us like we were crazy or that I was the most fun mom in the entire world and it felt so good, like a real foot massage in the forrest, and you know what I spelled a lot of things wrong here, and I'm very, very, very, very tired so I'm going to say goodnight now.

Because I'm so tired.

And, because, I just noticed the bottoms of my feet are still yucky-yuck.

Reader Favor?

Hey all! I'm updating my Web page and wonder if you'd be so kind to leave me a 'quote' on why you come to Manic Mom to read the crap I write... if you have something witty to say, and wouldn't mind me sharing it on my Web page, please either email it to me (along with your name, and how long you've been reading), or go ahead and leave it on the comments.

Thanks! I'd really appreciate it!
xo
Manic

You Know I HATE Math, But this is COOL!

I loathe math, completely, utterly LOATHE it. But this is just tooo strange. Even more strange than the Lint Brush episode.

It really worked. Get out a calculator...

YOUR AGE BY DINER & RESTAURANT MATH

It takes less than a minute .
Work this out as you read ...
Be sure you don't read the bottom until you've worked it out!
This is not one of those waste of time things, it's fun.

1. First of all, pick the number of times a week that you would like to go out to eat. (more than once but less than 10)

2. Multiply this number by 2 (just to be bold)

3. Add 5

4. Multiply it by 50

5. If you HAVE already had your birthday this year add 1756.

If you HAVEN'T add 1755.

6. Now subtract the four digit year that you were born.

You should have a three digit number.

The first digit of this was your original number of how many times you want to go out to a restaurant in a week.

The next two numbers are:

YOUR AGE! (Oh YES, it is!!!!!)

THIS IS THE ONLY YEAR (2006) IT WILL EVER WORK, SO SPREAD IT AROUND WHILE IT LASTS, and if you feel like putting it on your blog, go ahead and tell 'em Manic Mom taught you this neat little mathematical craze!

(Leave me a comment to let me know if it worked or not!)

Movie Titles, Many Martinis, and Too Strange To Not Be True

I was hanging out over at Kari's Snark Fest and she had some movie quotes in her latest blog entry, which made me think of one of my favorite lines.

Know where this one is from?

"Dan, I won't be ignored!"

* * * * * * *

And later, I'll be blogging about how I missed cracking my side rearview mirror off my minivan as I backed out of my garage, and instead, got the front whole panel of my headlight to crack and fall off. What a trade-off.

And no, I wasn't drunk, but quite possibly hung over.

Three applemartinis followed a cosmo. And I wake up at 5 a.m. with a raging headache, and think I may have to puke. I hate puking, but then in my strange mind, I think, "Well, if I puke, it'll at least make Blaire happy!" (For those of you new to Manic Mom, Blaire is a faithful reader who loves my puke stories, and if she had/has a website, I'd link her here but I don't think she does.)

Now, who said, "Dan, I won't be ignored?" And no, my husband's name is not Dan.

* * * *

Oh, and I forgot one more really, really crazy thing. So, I picked up Diva from a friend's house and their dog attacked me and was licking my hand and yes, I think that's particularly gross, but I'm smiling and saying, "Nice doggy," cuz it is a nice doggy but I didn't want it dry-humping and licking me at that particular moment.

I was also wearing an all-black track suit because I'm feeling very fat, oh, and I just got my hair colored and IT IS SO FREAKING DARK AND RED AND MY KIDS ARE LIKE, "You look different mom." So, I'm not feeling exceptionally beautiful, or even lookable these days. Ajers even commented to me, "Mom, why are you trying to be Goth?"

I guess that's better than, "Mom, why are you trying to look like an old lady?"

Anyway... I leave the house with the horny dog and realize I've got dog hairs, long blonde dog hairs, all over my track suit, and that's just not doing much for my attempted Goth look. I'm taking the kids out for lunch and to B&N and on our way out of our neighborhood, I see my friend, Homecoming Queen has her garage door open. I tell the kids this will just take a minute and I pull into her driveway and dial up her number. Am I that lazy that I just can't get out of the car and ring the bell?

Homecoming Queen answers and just as I say, "Do you have a lint brush?" her garage door opens and I see her daughter pop out.

Guess what she is holding in her hand at that very freaking moment? Guess where Homecoming Queen and her daughter had just been? Guess why they were out and had just returned home from Target?

They Just Went Out Specifically To Buy A Lint Brush.

Her daughter was HOLDING A LINT BRUSH IN HER HAND the ABSOLUTE VERY MOMENT I DECIDED THERE WAS TOO MUCH DOG HAIR ON MY GOTH-LOOKING COVER-THE-FAT-ASS TRACK SUIT AND WAS DRIVING RIGHT BY THEIR HOME AT THAT VERY SECOND.

I could have stopped at any number of neighbor's homes, but something deep inside willed me, actually steered my car, the one with the missing headlamp, straight into the fate of the magical lint brush.

It's a sign. I don't know exactly WHAT kind of sign it is, but it's a sign nonetheless.

I think I better go buy a lottery ticket.

And a lint brush of my own.

Tukey And Me And Bad Dreams

Well, I think by now you know I have an ultimate soft spot in my heart for my Tukey. After his bad dream (which I will tell you about in a few), we were cuddling, because man, that kid loves to cuddle with me. He is my only child who still calls me "Mommy." Ajers calls me Mom, and Diva calls me Bitch... Ha, just kiddin', she doesn't call me Bitch yet, but she's not a teenager yet. I'm just preparing for the future.

Anyway, I have asked Tukey to make me a promise and to always call me Mommy, his whole life, even when he's 18, even when he brings home that bitch of a girlfriend who calls him a Wuss for still calling his Mom "Mommy." That'll be the end of that girlfriend for sure!

So, this a.m. we were cuddling, and I told him he was my very special child because I had already had my boy, and already had my girl, but I knew there was something (someone!) else, so I had another baby. It was my Tukey.

Don't get me wrong. I cherish and love, and adore and give the same amount of affection to my Ajers and Diva, but this time in our lives, it's just Tukey and me every morning, playing Kitty Cat (which now that Daylight Savings Time has occurred, it has totally messed with our usual Kitty Cat Sun Spot so we have to find a new place to play.)

So, Tukey and I are together every morning, just him and me. I feel it's fair. He never got alone time with me. Ajers got it for 18 months before Diva came along; Diva gets alone girl time with me when we get to do things the boys don't like to do (for instance, today, she is coming with me to see how the tin foil works on my hair when they dye it, and you know it's time for a dye job when your husband notices the roots, and even asks, "When is it time for you to get your hair done again? You look like a skunk? -- SO BRING ON THE EXTRA HIGHLIGHTS AND FOILS BOYS!)

Back to Tukey: We get our special morning time together, we've been doing fun things like having lunch out, and going to the kid museum, and just hanging out. I am cherishing it. I won't get it back. Pretty soon, it'll be just me. And like three or four years ago, I remember thinking, "God, as soon as all three are in school on full days, I am going to spend a year just sleeping so I can catch up on all the sleep I missed when they were little." I don't really feel that way anymore. It's strange how time will move your thoughts and attitudes differently. I go to the mall now, and get a pang in my heart when I see young (YES YOUNG!) mothers with two or three babies in tow, and I have just my Tukey, and I think, "Wow, I really miss that time when I would bundle up all three with my double stroller and take them to the mall and spend the whole day there, just passing the time, watching them run ahead of me, or being able to share two Happy Meals four ways, and it not mattering that I only got two toys because the youngest kid was oblivious and was happy playing with the lid from the cup."

Wow, nostalgia is where this post has headed and I hadn't even planned that. Here I was all set to tell you about the bad dreams, but I ended up on a I-Wish-My-Kids-Were-Still-A-Little-Little tangent.

Enough.

OK, so the bad dreams...

Tukey came into our room about 5:30 this a.m. (and of course, Hubby was already up, had emptied the dishwasher and drank a pot of coffee by this time, having that internal clock that doesn't reset itself on the weekends, which makes me happy, BTW, because on weekends, I get up whenever I'm ready to get up)...

Geeze, Manic, what are you on today?!?!? Get to the freaking dream sequence and it better be good because you're so wasting my time here with all this craptalk!

Fine! I'll tell you Tukey's bad dream:

He came in and said he had a bad dream about ghosts. He clambered (I like that word, I don't think I've ever used it) up onto my bed and then we talked more about his dream.

"The ghosts were real scary and they were coming after me."

"Honey, you know ghosts aren't really real," I said.

"Well, then, we have a really big problem," Tukey said.

"Why?"

"Because I BELIEVE IN GHOSTS!"

OK, it was funny when he said it. I'm not sure it came out the way I wanted it to in the written form. But that's okay, because his dream wasn't really ALL that scary. I had a much, much, much more terrifying dream.

It was about lobsters. Tell me that lobsters are not more scary than ghosts? They're creepy, crawly, with big pinchers and my Nana used to chase us around the yard with them making us scream and cry while my parents mixed another cocktail and laughed at our terror.

So, you see, lobsters scare me.

In my dream however, the lobster was dead. This part made me happy because I was about to eat some of the juicy meat from the hugest lobster tail I had ever seen.
It was on my plate, steaming, recently having met its death in a big pot of boiling water, when probably just hours previously, he was deep in the sea, singing Kiss The Girls with Ariel and Flounder, thinking he was living the good life.

Then, he arrived on my plate. And I was hungry, so hungry for that lobster meat.

(I just realized the lobster dream came to me because I had a cup of lobster bisque at lunch with Homecoming Queen -- Happy Birthday Homecoming Queen! -- and Hot Five-Oh Mom, and two other good gal pals who I don't *think* know I have a blog or a split personality, or know that I am known in the blog world as Manic Mom.)

So, he arrived on my plate. And I was hungry, so hungry for that lobster meat. I asked my server for some drawn butter. A busboy came back with a spoon, thinking that's what I had requested (again, in real life, the busboy brought Homecoming Queen a spoon to share my lobster bisque).

Still no butter. I stared at my lobster, thinking it was getting cold, and again, I summoned my server.

"Could you please bring me some drawn butter?"

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Like MELTED BUTTER! Just put some butter in the microwave and melt it!"

I was scared. I knew what was going to happen, but there was nothing I could do except yell to her:

"HURRY! HURRY! It's about to happen, and I need my butter! I HAVE TO TASTE MY LOBSTER AND I CANNOT DO IT WITHOUT MY BUTTER!"

But, it was too late. Too late for my butter; too late for my tasty lobster because...

I FREAKING WOKE UP AND DIDN'T EVEN GET TO TASTE MY LOBSTER!!!!

Now, tell me a worse dream than THAT!!

Call Me The Do-Mes-Tick Goddess Extraordinaire.

Wow. I think if Hubby gave me notes like that more often, I could maybe turn into Martha Stewart or maybe Rachel Ray or someone who gives a shit about their home and cooking.

So, today, I was like a domestic goddess. I did laundry the whole way through. I mean everything! Like I washed it, and then dried it, and then folded, and PUT IT AWAY all the same day! And it was easy. Here's a hint to make it so easy. I separate the loads like all kid's stuff, and then a load of all mine and Hubby's stuff. Then a load of all whites. I hate whites, I hate the flipping socks. I hate socks.

So, laundry is still going, and it's almost all done.

This a.m. I went to the health club. Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you I joined the health club. I also quit drinking Diet Coke about two weeks ago, and do not miss it at all, nor did I get the headaches I was expecting. I tried some the other day, but really and truly, it was tooooo sweet for me! Weird. So, anyway, I'm going through a transformation of sorts: working out more, not drinking Diet Coke. Becoming domesticated like a horse or a cow.

Went to the health club, then Tukey and I headed to Sam's Club where I bought chicken, hamburger, beef, and then I came home and separated it all into individual freezer Ziplocs so I can make easy dinners at the drop of a hat. Some things you may not know about me. Touching raw meat really, really grosses me out. I remember once when I was in high school or early college, my mom asked me to mold hamburger into patties, and I was really disgusted, and ewwing and yucking all over the place. You know what she said? Well, she's probably going to kill me for saying this (but she's going on vacation tomorrow so maybe she won't read this too soon), she said to me, "If you're that grossed out touching raw meat, I don't know what you're going to do when you get intimate with a man."

Well, those weren't her exact words, she probably used the word... shhh... penis... and another thing when she said that was that I had to play dumb because here she is thinking I'm all innocent and stuff, and HELLOOOOOO, I had "already been there, done that," If you know what I mean. And I think you do.

So, the raw meat thing is not one of my favorite pastimes.

Then, I made about 12 sandwiches for the kids' lunches. I am sure I told you this before but I make peanut butter sandwiches for Diva's lunch, and lunchmeat sandwiches for Ajers and I freeze them so the night before, I just grab out the sandwiches, throw in a bag of chips and some other crap, and voila! Lunch is made!

Then I helped Diva make a boat for her class. It has to be a boat that floats and carries cargo. I cut out the bottom half of a milk gallon jug. She and Tukey spent the last hour in the bathroom soaking the floors and vanity, placing pennies and nickels into the 'boat' to see how many it would hold. I think they got to about 199. I was in here so I didn't see it all.

I was even able to sneak in some time for real paying work, where I am now creating quizzes for the website I work for and getting my byline. It's not actually a book deal or anything, but it's fun to do, and I get paid for it too. I also took a 20-minute cat nap in my most favorite spot in the world in my house, our living room couch. I swear I could lie there one full Saturday, with a couple of books within my reach and be a happy camper! The simple things. I am so simple it's hilarious. Doesn't take much to make me happy.

And now I am going to make hamburgers and curly Q french fries for dinner, and then I'm going to shower and get ready to go to my neighbor's Southern Comfort (oops, I mean Southern Living) party.

All in a day's work. Hope you all had a productive and enjoyable day too! And you know what? Thanks for reading Manic Mom too. I appreciate it, I appreciate you, I appreciate your comments!

Great Morning!

There are few things better than waking up in the morning,
getting the kids ready for school, and then coming into
my office and finding an untitled word document at the
bottom of the screen, opening it, and seeing Hubby has
left me this message, just for the heck of it:

Wordless Wednesday