Suburban Bliss:: Birth Control Via The Written Word

Real Life Is So Overrated.

I love vacation. In fact the only part of vacation I can think of that I hate is the leaving part. I am also not particularly fond of the 'Picture In Front Of The Alamo' part and the 'Homeless Woman Gripping My Daughter's Head' part. But otherwise the eating mountains and mountains of good food part was pretty great. I need more time and a bigger stomach to eat all the wonderful offerings of Texas.

Jean and Joe moved here 3 years ago and I'm not sure I want to live in a world where someone like Jean, who isn't particularly infatuated with Tex-Mex food, gets to live surrounded by it. She didn't know what a tamale is. In my opinion, this is some twisted joke of the universe.

One afternoon we stopped at a restaurant on the river walk to grab lunch with the kids. Madison was not pleased with our restaurant choice because the menu had, you know, good food on it. She ended up getting chicken fingers and fries. As we finished our food Maddie said, "This is the best Mexican food I ever had! I didn't even think I liked Mexican!"

She is quite the continental.

I have the worst time summing up my vacation, especially when there are so many highlights.

On this vacation I found yet another neighborhood I would like to live in. On Memorial Day we had a wonderful dinner with neighbors. Logan whipped up a batch of the Four O Clock, the alcohol content burned the eyelashes off several neighbors and pretty much sealed our reputation as raging alcoholics for a whole new batch of America. Hooray!

While we ate various meats made in ways I never knew possible, our kids played next door in the pool and with water balloons with some very kind teenager types and a few 6-10 year olds. If you're thinking of having kids I highly recommend having a 17 year old boy who likes kids around all the time.

We were also dazzled by the spontaneous neighbor happy hours by the pool and the evening puppy show. We were also dazzled by the lack of Willie Nelson, coyote airbrushing and boats which loom over one's house. How do people live like this?

If you ask my kids what part of vacation was their favorite they will quickly answer: "Swimming" and "Shamu". If you ask Logan what his favorite part was he'll say, "Stupid Pool Tricks". This was also the moment it dawned on me: My husband is totally in sync with 17 year old boys.

I loved every single thing about vacation, even the part where Max sobbed his way through the caverns. But I think my favorite night was the night Emmy came home from college and we sat outside talking, drinking, eating pizza and enjoying the sun and unseasonably cool temperature out by the pool. Maddie jumped in the pool in her pajamas on a dare and I didn't even care that the bedtime routine would be stalled.

I also really liked watching 'Jar Head' with Emmy and Will on our last night together. The simulating of gay sex in the desert was pretty awesome to watch together, not at all awkward. The night before we watched 'That Thing You Do' and when I crashed and later Emmy crashed the movie turned into a bit of a romance, leaving Logan and Will alone, quietly crying when Liv Tyler is torn between her two great loves.

Logan sent Will an iTunes gift card to say thanks for helping with our kids so much and signed it, "Dear Will, thanks for all the help with the kids.....and all the late night cuddles." I guess that will remain between the two of them. Well, and all of us.

It's become clear to me, we need a pool, a house which has very thick sound proof walls, great neighbors with puppies, no winter, Center Market, a detached master bedroom, a couple of fun teen/twenty-somethings around and a very patient mother type named Jean to help take care of our kids.

Logan and I spent an hour on the porch thinking about our trip. We thought about how amazing our vacation was. How sometimes a vacation drags on for a day too long and you leave feeling wiped out. This vacation was the perfect amount of fun for kids, exhaustion for parents, relaxation for parents and fun for grown ups. It was the perfect week.

I find myself watching Jean interact with my kids, taking note of how I can do this job better. How I can react to the kids with more patience, how I can fill them up with love before redirecting their undesirable traits. When they decided to leave the incredible sink hole that is Michigan take on a better position in a new state, that's the part which made me sob uncontrollably at their going away party. I need a third parent in my kid's lives because I'm doing the best I can but holy shit I am an easily overwhelmed woman.

Sitting in Aunt Jean's house is like climbing into a great big hug.

I have eaten my weight in freshly made tortilla chips.

i should know by now that vacationing with children does not resemble what you'd hope a vacation would resemble. I say this in the sense that I've been in 3 museums, a cavern 180 feet in the ground and very nearly killed by zebras who would like to eat the animal feed you have but also your brains, in a drive through safari ranch. I've done all this in the last two days and day two is only now coming to an end.

Right now the children are swimming with Logan and I am sitting down to write but it's awfully difficult to slow my brain down while I'm not at home. Home where I am easily able to slow my brain down because all I'm thinking about is selling my house. Which I AM NOT THINKING ABOUT RIGHT NOW. AT ALL. I was going to just load up a few pictures because I have some nice ones, including a few in the "This Is Melissa Crabby At [Fill In Attraction]" series.

I swear I'm not crabby but Logan waits until I press my lips together to spread my lipstick and I look sort of grumpy. Or he waits until we've spent 10 minutes trying to get a random man on the street to take our picture in front of the Alamo and he keeps hitting the 'self timer' button rather than the shutter button so that we're standing there squinting in the sun thinking this is a lot more trouble than it's worth. There are no pictures I like less than pictures of people in front of the place they are. These pictures tell me absolutely nothing about the vacation other than we stood. in. front. of. the. alamo. Then he says, "Okay just one more!" I look grumpy then.

Fine, maybe I've been a little grumpy a couple of times. If a zebra slobbered on your hand, you might feel a little grumpy too.

I would share those pictures but it appears my connection to the internet is a fickle little pain in the ass and isn't going to let me.

Today as we went to the Children's Museum in San Antonio after a life-saving stop at Rosario's for chips, salsa and sangria. This stop saved us from familial homicide, four ways. I ran into Walgreen's to get a bandaid for my blister. As I stopped  outside to put it on, a homeless woman asked me for some change. I politely declined and continued fiddling with my phone. She asked if she could use my phone and I said, "We're from out of town so the roaming charges are exorbitant."

Which is the polite way to say, "Look lady, I'm crabby not stupid."

Maddie watched this interaction and was visibly concerned I did not help this woman out. I explained that we help homeless people by giving a donation at Christmas to our local shelter and that I would let someone borrow my phone if they were in distress but not just so they can have a chat with Jesus or whomever else they think they've got on speed dial.

We stood waiting for the crosswalk to change and I noticed homeless lady saunter up next to Maddie who was to the right of me. She reached out and *squeezed* my daughter's head and shook it saying something either in another language or in her own created language. Something which did not sound menacing but did sound purposeful.

What has stuck with me about that moment is how unprepared I was for some stranger to put a hand on one of my kids. And how I responded internally with a fiery ball of adrenaline which made me want to scratch this woman's eyes out but I responded outwardly by saying:

"Oh no no no....now let's not do that please."

Like God Damn Mary Fucking Poppins.

*Updated to add: Here are the first of (probably) many Pictures Of Melissa: Crabby On Vacation. Wow, that woman is crabby. (Only I swear I'm not!)

I think the universe is trying to show me I have no control*.

All right, I felt sorry for myself yesterday. Well, sorry for myself and also unbelievably annoyed with unimaginative buyers. I looked around yesterday at pictures of houses in our neighborhood with brand new roofs and they're tiny inside, no dining room, no new bathroom, tiny eat-in kitchens with old cupboards and they're 5,000 to 10,000 dollars more than our house. So there you go, have at it!

PS: Guess how much a new roof costs! That's right YOU DON'T KNOW BECAUSE YOU HAVEN'T HAD A HOME INSPECTION.

But I'm moving on, only I'm not really moving on because you know I don't swing that way. I have a new post up at the Buzz Off and I think I did a decent job digging out inspiration for baby showers. It's rather difficult to find good pictures of parties: Flickr-ites! Get on it! But I found a few sites which make me feel like throwing a party, never mind none of my friends are pregnant.

Tomorrow we're getting on a plane and going to visit my friend Jean, my white, thinner, less screamy personal Oprah. This is big news because we have never taken a trip all together as a family which involved plane travel and 7 days of fun. It's only the third time we've taken a seven day break because my robotic husband is programmed for workaholism. Which is nice since he now has a laptop and a wireless connection which means there will be some work interfering with our trip. Oh well. We'll be away, we'll be swimming, we'll be drinking, we'll be sleeping in the guest house away from the kids (no offense kids). I will be trying very hard to let go of the house, to let the universe take control. Hopefully margaritas help that.

Here are some meaningless vacation photos from our last trip, when I took the kids down for 10 days by myself. Which went pretty well until the way back when I forgot to change Max's diaper and the seat was soaked. I haven't sat on an aisle when flying Northwest since.

*I hate not being in charge of my life.

It wasn't a sale I was tasting.

It was the stupidity of buyers in this market.

"You mean....a house? Requires maintenance? You mean I'm not getting the cheapest house in the neighborhood three blocks to downtown with a brand new bathroom, updated kitchen, all appliances, a corner lot with two trees and character up the ass without any work to do eventually?"

I mean honestly can you believe the nerve of us to sell a home for 10K less than any other current listing (except for the house around the block which is 5K less and also comes with several rusted out cars in the driveway) and expect that this means we're accounting for an older roof and the fact that it's not a new construction? Imagine that.

We have so many viewings I'm telling myself this means more eyeballs will gaze upon it and eventually someone won't want to live in the basement. Until then I'll be in the corner crying.

So close I can taste it.

This is nothing but a boring update on our housing situation.

We had two showings today in addition to the second viewing by the interested couple. There has been a lot of interest in this house in a market where there are about 7000 homes for sale and 3 available buyers.

The Second Viewing Couple's realtor let mine know they are considering making an offer on this house or one which is further north. The house to the north could be a waterfront mansion, it could be a trailer....we can't know. We won't know until Monday when they decide which house to make an offer on.

The difficult thing about being optimistic and swimming with the dolphins in your mind all day is you can't help but wonder what will happen if you're wrong and it's not going to work out the way you're thinking it is. It will work out another way of course, one way or another. But I'm a fan of knowing how things are going to work out as you may have picked up in the thousands of words I've written over the last four years.

You can't help but wonder how your brain will recover if it's faced with another shift in plans. I'm trying not to give that part of my brain very much attention, because that's not the energy we want.

So instead Logan and I spent all morning shopping for the style of furniture we'll be filling our new house with, like this sofa. When we showed Dutch the sofas we're looking at and the dramatic shift we'll be making in our style in the new house he called it, "post deco, pre midcentury", which means only Dutch, Logan and I will know exactly what our style is because that doesn't exactly make a lot of sense.

For now though, I'm going to remain so God damn positive a dozen unicorns are going to explode from my arse and they're going to spear a few boxes on their horns and deliver them to the new house. The new house where we'll put a trampoline in the backyard and the kids will jump on it with cuddly giggling koala bears wearing tiny "I [Heart] You!" t shirts.

Just like her mother.

Madison, watching a boy from class walk by our house.

"That's Chad. I would have a crush on Chad if he was smarter and didn't hang out with the mean boys. He's really cute but I like smart boys."

Sometimes I think, "Everything is going to be just fine."

Here's something else that's not dumb or mean, a Buzz Off about cooking with kids. I am, not very good at this.

Things you will hear me say while the kids are 'helping':
"Don't put egg shells in the batter!"
"oh, whoa whoa whoa....careful with the flour!"
"Put the milk in slowly....slower...slow."
"Here you can pour this in but I'm going to keep my hand on it while you do, which means you aren't actually pouring."

"GET YOUR PANTS ON!"

Yesterday we had three showings on the house (another tonight!). All this visualizing unicorns prancing on rainbow clouds seems to be working. Optimism and patience is rewarding? My world is spinning. It's raining kittens playing with yarn!

There were two showings scheduled for the 6:30 to 7:30 time slot. We took the kids to dinner and out for ice cream and came back to the house at around 7:20 because we were tired of killing time and figured the people were finished walking through since once most people see our basement they decide they like living in the earth and can't do a thing with the basement and poof they're gone.

I feel like telling these people about places like Texas where basements are considered a luxury item. Our short height basement is a luxury item!

We got in the house, Logan started a load of laundry and we rushed the kids to get their pajamas on. I walked into the living room and noticed a white SUV driving by slowly and had a fleeting thought, "Gee, I wonder if those are the people? No, it's 7:25! Oh they're stopping! Oh Max is naked! We have to get the hell out of here."

So I started yelling, "GET YOUR PANTS ON!! EVERYONE OUT! OUT! OUT!"

We carried Max out of the house without shoes or socks. I carried the rest of his clothes and he dressed in the car. Logan forgot his wallet and ran back in to grab it just as the people were walking up the front walk. Thank God we have a lot of doors.

As we drove away I said, "Oh, he's tall. They'll hate it."

We parked down the street waiting for them to come running out fleeing from the horror of the Bend Over Basement. But they didn't. 15 minutes went by, 20 and then 35 and they came outside and started walking around the house. Looking at all the concrete which one day they will hopefully be cursing as they shovel snow for 3 hours.

They liked the house their realtor said and they'll be coming back for a second showing on Saturday. They mentioned the lack of garage as a concern and the fact that it's really just a two bedroom because the third bedroom doesn't really have a closet.

Of all the things anyone's said about my house in the last month, for some reason this one has sent me of the edge of my tolerance for these buyers in a buyers market.

When Logan and I bought this house it was a fierce sellers market. We looked for months and months for a home and sellers had offers within 24 hours of listing. We'd show up for a viewing and find a home inspector and a defensive buyer already under contract. We walked through houses where dinner from the night before was left out on the table and dishes were piled high in the sink. Half the homes weren't even clean because they didn't need to clean, the houses were selling anyway. Over asking.

Our third bedroom has a stairway in the closet which leads to an attic which could be easily finished. Since we don't need that closet space we've left it open for easy access to the attic. When this realtor said her buyers were concerned it wasn't really a 3 bedroom house because there was no hanging space in the closet I burst my eyeball open and yelled out loud, "OH MY GOD I AM LIVING IN A HOUSE HUNTERS EPISODE!"

Then I drove to Lowes and spent $12, came home, spent 20 minutes of my time and voila!

This is a three bedroom house, there's your closet, now buy my house.

(*Second viewing Saturday morning. The closet is totally going to make this deal happen.)

Pep Talk

At the coffee shop between a customer and the very hyper mildly aspergers-y cashier.

"Hello sir how are you?"
"Not so good but this too shall pass."
"I'm uh...sorry. What's wrong?"
"Oh, work."
"Well caffeine will make it better."
"Right."
"At least for a few hours until you have a caffeine induced headache and are all worn out and can't focus. What can I get for you?"

The kids will have scabby knees by the end of the summer.

I have a new post up at The Buzz Off about outdoor activities because this summer I am determined to lock all the doors and windows and force the children to play outside and have all kinds of fucking fun OUTSIDE. Writing the post made me evaluate why my kids don't play outside very much. There are a few reasons for this situation: they are huge babies, we have a side yard which is like playing in a fish bowl where everyone can watch you, we have a shed which is difficult to store outside toys in, there are no other kids around to play with and finally and most annoyingly, in spite of myself I am afraid of 'bad things' happening so I'm afraid to really let them play outside they way I always played outside.

The way I played outside was, according to the news and about 50% of the parents I know, the equivalent of me driving Maddie to a registered sex offender's house and telling her to play in his backyard. We rode our bikes to the park at 7, the park was blocks away from my house. I left the house in the morning, stopped in for lunch and for the rest of the day I played in friend's yards at parks and even at the church parking lot around the block in some landscaping we created a 'home' out of.

While out I often fell and came home with bloody knees. I once rode my bike so fast through a vacant church parking lot I failed to notice the chain going across the entrance. I was clotheslined by chain link which cut my neck and sent me hurtling backward onto the asphalt and then I rode my bike home.

This morning I told Madison we had to get her some sandals before our big vacation next week. She said, "I can't wear open toe sandals to school anymore. Someone hurt her toe really bad on the playground while wearing them."

There's already a no flip flop rule at school, which doesn't bother me because my daughter has sensitive feet and an inability to walk in flip flops, but the sandal rule bothers me. The little girl who got hurt was playing tag and ran into a pole of some sort causing her toenail to stick straight up from the nail bed. She had stitches and the toe nail was not removed.

Writing about her injury makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up and believe me I am very familiar with the pain and suffering of a toe nail injury but it was an accident, not an epidemic of kids jamming their toenails off their nail beds. If at the end of the month even 4 kids had done the same thing, sure, let's just get rid of the sandals.

This is just one example in my tiny world, everywhere the world seems to be going crazy about kids getting hurt and at the same time the world is wondering why our kids are so fat. Maybe our kids are so fat because they can't just ride a bike anymore they have to strap on a helmet and knee pads and elbow pads and wrist guards and a full body condom just in case.

Growing up I was always tan by the end of the summer because we were outside all day long. I was tan except for my knees which were continually covered with scabs and so ended up with a light white-ish pink spot on them. My kids have had scabbed knees once in their lives thanks to the padded giant hamster ball we let them outside in.

Maddie said, when I scoffed at the new rule (which we will obey of course), "I don't want my toenail to get pulled off so I'm glad we can't wear sandals."

I have a pretty high strung kid, do I really need her afraid to wear sandals? I pointed out how she'd worn sandals all summer for the last 7-8 years and she'd never hurt her toe. I told her how I've worn them for the last 30 something years and I've never hurt my toe. I asked, "Should we remove the drawers in the kitchen because Max hurt his toe with one?"

Should we never eat hot dogs with toothpicks because you fell off the barstool once and jammed it through your lip? Should we never play at the park because our friends were stung by wasps there? Should we stop going outside because you tripped on the steps and scraped your hands?

Her eyes started to get wider and I saw the look pass across her face which said, "OH MY GOD YOU ARE RIGHT!!!!! I CAN NEVER LEAVE THE HOUSE AGAIN!!!!!!"

Which wasn't the point I was attempting to make.

I guess I'm having a hard time understanding how we expect our kids to be active when we're afraid they're going to be hurt. It's so much safer for kids to sit in the house and play video games all day long. There are 5 weeks left until school is over and having two kids stuck in the house afraid of bees and sandals is going to kill me.

UPDATE: Principal says, "NO MORE TAG! DO NOT TOUCH EACH OTHER!" Wooooo!

My husband: lover of lawn servicemen.

While Logan was with the kids in Indianapolis and I was in San Francisco, the trees finally turned green and the lawn came to life and swallowed our house. When we all got home, there wasn't much time to mow because of the rain and because of our schedules and so we pulled out the machete and cleared a path and left it like that for almost a week.

On Thursday night I was outside taking new pictures of the exterior of our house now that the trees are green and things look alive. My neighbor, not the bad ones, came over and asked how it was going. I told him we'd dropped the price and I was trying to get a better picture with the trees all green.

We both looked at the house for a minute, lamenting the market and he said, earnestly, "Maybe you could mow the lawn."

Gee, do you think the jungle in our yard was deterring potential buyers?

He went on to tell us about his lawn service and how much they charge and on Saturday morning they came to our house and they mowed and weed whacked around the miles and miles of fencing and they edged.....they edged the miles and miles of concrete surrounding our house and our 4 different concrete walkways and the long, long driveway.

And Logan watched and said, "I've never been sexually aroused watching men work before but I'm pretty sure I'm turned on right now."

Then they pulled out the leaf blower and did what it takes Logan and a broom almost an hour to do in 5 minutes, and I think he may have had an orgasm.

***

You didn't think I would miss a chance to talk house did you? Look I put it down here so you could just leave with the image of Logan being sexually satisfied by someone using a leaf blower. But now you don't want that in your head do you? And you can't get it out. Here, read this.

On Saturday we met with the realtors and the owner of the New Dream House, which is right across from the Old Dream House. Dream House is a little overpriced and, even if it were well priced for the market, a little too much for us to afford. But we love Dream House. We love the big open kitchen/dining room and the family room with a doorwall to a brick patio. We love the idea of not living as slaves to home improvement projects and most of all we love the neighbors.

If I could fit Dream House into a Baby Bjorn I'd practice attachment parenting with Dream House, I love it like that. I would never put down Dream House, I would never want him to believe I was neglecting his needs. I wouldn't let him cry it out, I'd hold him until he fell asleep.

While we talked to our realtor after the meeting the neighbors were out and waving over and I waved back and then real live children on bikes (!) rode by and said 'Hi!' and then the sky opened up and koala bears and unicorns and rainbows fell from the sky and I mashed my body into Dream House and told Logan I couldn't leave, this house needs me. He and my realtor physically removed my body from Dream House and my arms ached. As we drove away one of the neighbors said he'd get some holy water to sprinkle on the house to make sure we get it.

I have never been this spiritual in my entire life.

We can't bid on this house or sign anything until we sell this house. I've tried to convince myself otherwise, as you might imagine I would because that's how I am. One-minded. But there's this thing called "Reality" and Reality is cruel. Reality would not co-sleep with me and I would definitely feed it formula and let it cry it out all night long. (Sarcasm Helper: I love my kids and guess what I did when they were babies? All of the above.)

We can't possibly pay for two houses and this market is so fucking annoying soft, (I'm being gentler and more positive) there are no guarantees there will be a buyer for our incredibly well priced house. I tried to make Max look as sweet as I could for the meeting so the owner would fall in love with us and couldn't imagine squashing the dreams of such an adorable little boy, with freckles.

I've decided to live The Secret, no not the one about that thing you do with your ring finger while giving blow jobs*. No the Oprah one about giving power to what you focus on. I am focusing all my energy on the new house, on how wonderful it would be. I'm picturing myself there, shamelessly, without suspicion. Believe it. Achieve It, Baby! (That's a Loganism and one which has caused me to throw a chair at his head in the past.)

I'm picturing the trampoline in the backyard and the kids riding bikes with friends up and down the street and I'm picturing buying more than one cupboard of food at a time and I'm even picturing Mai Tais made with crushed ice directly from our freezer. This could all back fire of course if our house doesn't sell in a month and we can't make it happen because then I'll be spending hours in my mind moving all my furniture out of the place and weeping while I crush ice in the blender for my Mai Tais.

Also the house will weep real tears if we are kept apart any longer.

*I have only one blow job secret and it doesn't involve a technique. Here's the secret: There's really no such thing as a "bad" blow job, especially once you're married. Unless you lick it like a popsicle. Irritating.

**Wow, I thought we were talking house to get any sexual images out of your head. Sorry.

Kids say the darndest things.

Logan and the kids went to Indianapolis this weekend.

I love spending time with friends, but I also love having two fun weekends rather than one. Logan fucked up.

"No, my run is the last weekend in May!"

"I'm booking my flight for the first weekend!"

"That's cool! My run is the last weekend!"

Guess what? Logan doesn't understand the ways of Google. You know where you type in your subject and it tells you all about it.

The Indy 500 is the second weekend in May. The Mini Marathon is the first weekend in May. I found that out with a simple Google search. I found this out after I bought my ticket to San Francisco.

This alone didn't bother me, what bothered me was when Logan said, "We'll hire a babysitter to watch the kids while we're both gone!" (In Seperate Locations.)

He dropped that idea rapidly.

I worried how the weekend would go without me there to run interference with my own family. I worried it would be awkward. I should not have worried, because I married a robot who can get along with almost everyone. Also my robot is never awkward.

Jenn, my sister in law, the only one who likes me, emailed me letting me know all the lovely things my kids said while I was away. The things Maddie said amuse me the most because I spent part of the weekend exposing the fact that I love Madison, but sometimes she and I don't seem to understand each other in the way that I'd hoped we would when I prayed for a daughter. She is funny and smart, sometimes I think she's too smart to be my daughter.

Below please find the amusing things my kids said while I was praying all weekend.

Weekend Quotes:

Max - Aunt Jenn, where's Uncle Scott
Aunt Jenn - He's downstairs using the bathroom.
Max - Oh.
A few minutes later.......
Logan -  Where's Uncle Scott...I thought we were leaving?
Max (not looking up from playing in the ice water with Spiderman Who Turns Black When Cold) - He's downstairs dropping a deuce.
Logan - chuckles proudly.

Setting table for dinner.

Max - (leans over and gently touches the wood handle of a steak knife.)  This wood is beautiful Aunt Jenn.
Me - Well, thank you....I think it is too. (He's VERY observant)

Before dinner out - Boys went to Z Gallerie  - Maddie & I went to Claire's to kill time

Aunt Jenn - Hey, I think we'll get this truck for Max....is there something you'd like?
Maddie - Well yes, but I'm not supposed to ask for things.
She's so sweet!

Breakfast:

Uncle Scott - Max, how many pieces of French Toast for you?
Max - One please
Uncle Scott - How about for Maddie?
Max - You better make 2 for her.....she's a fan.

While on a walk with the Bowsers [dogs]......

Max - Aunt Jenn, Do you like to upchuck?
Aunt Jenn - Uh.  No.  Do you???
Max - I do.  It feels good.
Aunt Jenn - What?
Maddie - He's weird.

[Aunt Jenn thought she was joking about Camp Jenn.....but I have already signed our kids up for six weeks of Camp Jenn. This exchange makes me want to go cuddle Maddie, even though she doesn't like cuddles.]

Aunt Jenn - Maddie if you came to Camp Jenn you'd have to take Tennis or Cheerleading at Rivi.
Maddie - I'd take Art.  I heard you say Art was on the list.
Aunt Jenn - Well.......as an adult you may need to know how to play golf or tennis...and since Rivi doesn't offer golf.......tennis it is.
Maddie - Why do I need to know how to play those?
Aunt Jenn - In the business world you may be asked to play one of these games with a client or boss.
Maddie - scrunches up nose, makes a puss.
Aunt Jenn - I always wished I was a cheerleader.....you could take cheerleading!
Maddie - Mmmmm.......I like the outfit but I think I'd just take Art.
Aunt Jenn - What?!  Why?!  Think of the outfit!  And the poms!
....long pause......
Maddie - Would I have to get a physical?
Aunt Jenn - Most likely.
Maddie - Forget it.  Art.

   

Not Surprisingly....

This week at the Buzz Off it's all about the last minute because that's how I'm living my life.

In the last minute.

Last minute Teacher Appreciation Gifts.
Last minute Mother's Day Gifts.

Pie Thursday Has Kicked My Ass.

I arrived at the airport at 8:20pm on Monday, which was much better than my original arrival of 11:45pm. It turns out Northwest Airlines will change your flight time a day before your departure and oh, your actual airline as well. They also changed my flight home but made that a direct flight rather than a flight requiring a 6 hour layover. I told someone this weekend I have a hard time holding a grudge. I guess I am a liar because I have only recently forgiven Canada and now Northwest is feeling the pain. Although I have another Northwest flight set up in two weeks, so enh.

I am running a day behind schedule because when I arrived back at my house Monday night at 10:30, it felt like it should be Sunday. So I've been running as though everything is a day behind. I dropped Maddie off at school late on Monday and then, at 12:30 in the afternoon I still hadn't gotten it together and dropped Max off late. Also I forgot Maddie's lunch and felt like a pretty awesome elementary school mother.

I don't travel well.

I had such a wonderful time in California. I needed a weekend away. I needed to be surrounded by women who make me laugh. I needed to be with the woman who knows how to force me to try on clothes and then purchase said clothes. I needed to be around women who inspire me and fill me up with good things. Like bacon and good ideas.

There are a lot of stories I could tell but the best story is the one where I was walking down the street after an alcohol free breakfast and fell flat on my face. My shoe and ankle gave out and on the hills of San Francisco I tumbled, so hard. I have brilliant bruises on both my knees. The ladies thought I had passed out and I wish I had because I love those guys but holy shit that was embarassing; laying on my stomach on the ground covered in a variety of bags I'd been carrying.

I laid there for a minute and the first thought I had was, "I just threw myself on the ground in front of Dooce."

I'm so behind on just about everything in my life. I have so many ideas and projects going and the time management skills of a toddler. I'm going to get it together in the next week and then! We're going on another trip the week after that so I can be frazzled and insane again. Woo!

The house has not sold. We dropped our price to the point where we're dangerously close to not breaking even. I'm pushing the limits of this market expecting a sale this quick, however as we are all painfully aware, I've been waiting a long ass time for this to happen. Also, THE house I want is now a reasonable possibility. I refuse to lose this house because it is perfect for us in the perfect location and now it's at the perfect price.

Hear me universe!

Logan made my new banner last night and it makes me laugh everytime I look at it. It's from this picture from a night out for my friend Andrea's birthday. It was an unseasonably warm night and everyone in southeastern lower Michigan decided to go to the same restaurant with an outside deck and there was one waitress. One waitress who served all my friends drinks and I was left to sit in a corner and beg with my eyes for just one beer. After an hour she came back to let me know they were out of my favorite beer. That's when we took that picture.

I'm not really silently plotting my escape though. I'm loudly plotting. (SELL HOUSE!)

Going home.

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A rockstar, but a really lame rock star.

I thought I could trick you all by showing you a picture of the Atlanta airport. I thought you would think I was visiting Atlanta. Because why the hell would an airline with a hub city in Detroit send me to Atlanta before letting me go to San Francisco? Why would they change my airline to Delta without telling me? Why would they change my flight making me miss my connection in Atlanta making me sit in Atlanta's airport for 6.5 hours. That's a lot of magazines, a lot of margaritas* and not a lot of battery power on the laptop. (I posted here while I waited) There is only one explanation for all of this: Northwest Airlines hates me.

Also Atlanta hates me because the margaritas at the airport chilis tasted like lime koolaid and had so little alcohol in them even Dr. Janet Taylor would suggest you give them to your kids.

*One of those margaritas was too many.

The other answer is it was a free frequent flyer ticket and I became nothing but steerage. If planes could sink, I would have been the first to die a watery death. I sat in an overhead bin. I could have flown to California by way of Australia and made it there faster. It took a long time is what I'm saying, but at the end I was in California with some of my favorite ladies watching while they karaoked.

It was 2am my time when I arrived, I started my travels (including a 30 minute wait for a shuttle from the lot) at 9:30 in the morning. We arrived home at 5am my time (after a trip back to the bar to get my wallet I dropped on the ground) and before I went to sleep I called the school absence line to let them know the kids would not be in school today* and two hours later while I was asleep and still a little drunk, I fielded a call from the school letting me know Pie Friday is now Pie Thursday.

This makes me a rockstar.

*Logan and the kids drove down to Indy yesterday for the weekend with my brother and sister in law and the mini marathon.

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I am a rockstar

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Literally 16 hours

After I started. Jesus I need a drink. Another. image/jpeg Sent via BlackBerry from Cingular Wireless

Finally

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Next step.

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?????

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in flight champagne Free!

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Next step.

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Step one

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Test

Today is going to be very very good......just you wait Internet.
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