Friday, December 27, 2013

Save Your Stupid Apologies, I Don't Wanna Hear 'Em

I feel as though I have sufficiently calmed down enough to discuss the following subject:

Bullshit celebrity apologies.

It's something that always bothered me, but once the Paula Deen thing happened, followed by the Alec Baldwin thing recently, and now the Phil Robertson thing, I can't take it anymore.   Anyone who brings this topic up to me is bound to get an earful, because I've had enough!

I need to do my little disclaimer right here in the beginning to eliminate any potential pissedoffness that could occur if you don't read my big mouth opinion straight through to the end.  I do NOT approve of racist and homophobic slurs.  I don't care what color you are or who you crawl into bed at night with.  My mother raised us to love everyone equally and that it is inside, not outside, what matters.  Allison is being raised in the exact same fashion.  So, please be clear on my stance on those particular items.

Okay.  Here I go.

If I hear one more person "apologize" for "offending" people, I'm going to lose my mind.  It's all bullshit.  None of it is genuine.  If these people didn't have celebrity status and major bucks to lose, they wouldn't apologize to anyone for anything.  They are being forced into saying they are sorry for their beliefs when they really aren't.

Even if it was for one minute in an entire lifetime, Paula Deen and Alec Baldwin did feel the need to use racist and homophobic terms when speaking to someone in public.  It happened.  The words are so damn common that they easily run off people's tongues  in the heat of the moment.  Even gay and ethnic people do it.  God knows the "N word" is thrown around as much as the word "you" by African American people.  I recently watched a TV show where a gay man called another gay man a "f*g" because he was so flamboyant.  These words are being used within the groups who find it offensive as well.  Somehow, they give permission to keep the language going.

BUT...oh, yes, there is a but....

I don't want to hear an apology for something when you don't mean it.  I hate it when people in my personal life do it.  You might as well just say, "I'm only saying this to get you to shut the hell up and get over it."  And that's what these celebrities are doing.  They are being forced into it to save their reputations.  Its so disingenuous.  I lose respect for them for caving in and taking back their feelings, regardless of how crappy they are.  Stick up for yourself, dammit.  If you're going to be an asshole, be a proud asshole!

And who in the hell is so "offended" by this talk?  A newscaster says "shit" by accident and has to come back from commercial and apologize for "offending" people?  What planet do these offended people live on?  They never heard this kind of language before?  And why in the hell are they taking it so personally?

Really?  Offended?  I still don't understand that.  And if you don't like what people are saying, then walk away, turn the page, change the channel, stop giving them your attention.  That's what I do with people in my own life.  Their racist and homophobic statements don't offend me.  If anything, I'm glad I get to see their true colors so I can decide whether I want them in my life or not.  If they want to be ignorant, it's their prerogative.  Their opinions don't affect me.... unless you are dragging people I love into it.

The real kicker for me was Phil Robertson.  I'm a fan of the Duck Dynasty show.  I think it's hilarious and I like their wholesome values.  They seem like people that you would want to know better.  So, Phil makes a comment in a sermon (he's a preacher) about how homosexuality is wrong according to the bible.  He states his case and then moves on.

He doesn't say that you should hate gay people.   What he says actually is factual....depending on what you believe in.  The Bible strongly implies that homosexuality is wrong.  The BIBLE says it.  That doesn't meant that it's right.  But if you are a Christian and share the beliefs amongst many divisions of Christianity, then that's what you believe as well.  He later says that he thinks people should love everyone, regardless of their lifestyle.

It's your right to have your own opinion and religious beliefs.  When that stops, we are in for a shitload of trouble here in America.   I see a trend where people are trying to take away that right and force us to believe that if you don't think like the majority, then you should say you're sorry and shut up.

This is what I need to teach my daughter?  I need to tell her that when she has an opinion that is contrary to popular beliefs she should shut up and keep it to herself?  Don't be an individual!  And God forbid you slip and say something, make sure you humble  yourself and apologize for being so offensive!

Oh, nay nay!

There's no way in hell's bathroom that I'm going to follow that line of thinking.  If I taught her that, I would be teaching her to conform.  No conforming.  Be you!  Be nice, but be you.  If you believe in something that hurts other people, that's a real problem, but if you believe something that is different from the masses, don't give up.  You could change the world, even if it's just a teeny bit.

What if Martin Luther King, or Rosa Parks, or Susan B. Anthony, or Betty Friedan, or Brenda Howard gave in and stifled their opinions?  They went against the majority and now Equal Rights for minorities, women and homosexuals are bursting forward.

In conclusion to the Phil Robertson drama, I'm glad he didn't apologize.  I'm also glad that he told people that we all should be kind and love each other, no matter what you believe.  He's stuck with his guns (no pun intended), but he made it nice.  I'm impressed.  I don't agree with him, but I respect him for telling his truth.

So, my job is to make Allie's truth one that is kind, loving and part of a positive contribution to the world.  It's MY job and I take it seriously.  Children learn from example and I'm trying to do my best to set a good one.  The tidbit I'll take away from this apology crap is that I want Allie to only apologize when she means it.  Don't betray your beliefs, and for God's sake, don't try to say something meaningful that you don't mean!

Much love to you all!

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Thursday, December 26, 2013

She Only Wants Mom

Happy Holidays Everyone!

With Chanukah and Christmas over, we have the New Year celebration and then.... back to regular life.  Everyone can start counting down to Spring Break.  I thought when I finished school that I would be done living from holiday to holiday, but it has continued on for me and pretty much everyone else, I think.

I had a most lovely Christmas despite the illness that is ravaging my entire family.  I'm hoping that this will be the last post where I bitch about being sick, but I actually have a relevant topic to discuss that pertains to being ill for a change.  I'm moving beyond the complaining.

Two days before Christmas, I crawled out of my car after my last appointment and dragged myself into my house and declared, "I need a doctor."  So off we went to the local urgent care place to see what my deal was.  After four long months, I've finally decided that I cannot wish myself better, talk myself into being "unsick",  deny that I was illin', all of the stuff that I was doing other than woofing down medication.  It was time to give into western medicine.

Turns out I had what looks like a smidgen o' pneumonia.  Imagine that.  It was a wee bit of a shocker when she said, "I think we'll take an X-ray to be sure."  But like a good girl, I am diligently taking my "Antibees, roids and gas" (antibiotics, steriods and inhaler) and I'm feeling much better.  Well, at least I can breathe deeply without choking.  That's still better!

During all of this drama, I discovered a very interesting development in my maternal bond with Allie.  I really kind of needed it because lately I've been feeling a bit left out of the parental situation.  She wants Justin for everything.  He even gets a more emphatic "I love you" than I do.  So, I needed to feel connected.  Here's what I discovered.

When Allie is sick, she wants ME.  Just ME.

So, I'm sure you're saying, "Big effing deal.  Why is that so odd?"

It's odd because of the two parents, Justin is WAY more nurturing than I am when it comes to injury and illness.  I'm not cold hearted and I try to help take care of him when he doesn't feel well, but he blows me out of the water.  The guy should've been a nurse.  Not a doctor.  A nurse, cuz nurses are more warm and fuzzy.

He does the boo-boo voice ("Oh, honey....I'm so sorry!  Can I get you something?  Let me feel your forehead.  You feel warm.  You're sick.  If you need anything, just let me know, okay?"), he checks on me constantly ("Do you need anything yet?  Orange juice? A snack?"), and he is majorly accommodating ("Let me pick you up and carry you to the don't push.  I'll squeeze you gently until the pee comes out.  You need to rest!")

LOL. I'm just kidding about the last one, so you can put your eyeballs back in the sockets.

Actually, he will run around and do whatever he can for me when I'm sick, even if it's killing him.  He is a natural caretaker.  I was horribly sick on our honeymoon and he took such great care of me.  He went to hell and back to find medicine to help me function.  I remember crying and saying, "I'm so sorry I'm ruining our honeymoon.  You're so good to me.  I could never take care of someone like you take care of me.  I'm sorry I'm not as good at this as you are."

So, with that being said, if you were three and felt sick, who would you run to?

That's why it's a bit surprising to me (and him) that she only wants me.  She will push him away if he tries to fuss over her.  If he tries to help so I can rest, she demands that I help her.  She finds some sort of comfort from being near me that she doesn't get from him.  It totally backs up the nature part of the "Nature vs. Nurture Theory" that you hear about.  Her natural instinct is to want me.  And when I tell people this, they all seem to think it's completely normal.  "Of course she does.  You're her mother."

Well, WHEW!  FINALLY there is something she likes better about me!  SCORE!

To be honest, while I feel bad for Justin when he gets pushed away since I see how hurt he is by it, it feels wonderful to be needed by Allie in a way that no one else will be able to fulfill.  And while it usually annoys me a little to take care of people who are super needy, it doesn't annoy me at all when she is insanely clingy and needy.  On Monday night, her ears hurt (she has the same cold) and the one thing that she wanted was for me to rub the inside of her ear with a Q-Tip (or "ear tip" as she calls them).  She nudged me every five to ten minutes until 430am saying, "Mommy.  Please rub my ear with an ear tip."  And I absolutely didn't mind.

I have a feeling that Allie will be like me and my mom.  When we are sick, we want to be with someone, but we don't want to be bothered by it.  My mother is the only other person besides Allie who never annoys me when she's injured or ill.  She could whine and bitch until the cows come home and it wouldn't make me crazy.  Of course, I"m just guessing because she doesn't do that, so I don't really know if it would be agitating or not.

When I went to the doctor earlier this week, something else unusual occurred.  Allie does NOT care for doctors offices.  We have the most awesome pediatrician and she does nothing but cry from the minute she sees him.  When she goes with Justin to some of his appointments she is miserable there too.  But for some reason, she insisted on coming into the doctor's office with me.  Like, full fledged freaking out in the waiting room, begging me not to leave her kind of insistance!  Now I have no explanation for that one, but I am kind of curious what it was all about.

So, I hope that this is the last entry I make for awhile that says anything about me being under the weather unless I have another momentous discovery.  I would just like to thank all of the moms, young and old, who commiserated with me and offered sympathy.  It really made me feel better to know that this happens to so many other people when their kids go to school.  I was trying to outsmart it and be tough, but the germies were gonna get me no matter what.  That's just how it is.  I concede.

I plan on being back beforehand (I've got a doozie of a topic, but I need to calm down before I can write about it without sounding like a lunatic), but should something happen and I get sidetracked, Happy New Year, everyone!
I saw this on Facebook and thought it was excellent.  Game on!

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Friday, December 20, 2013

We're Just Rookies!

I'm sick.  Again.

This will be round number four since September.  Allie is STILL sick since October 4th.  And Justin just sort of floats in and out of sickness as we go (the benefit of being somewhat of a germaphobe.)

I figured out what's going on though.  I really don't give a rat's ass WHAT this cold is about.  What I wanted to know was WHY we keep getting sick.  And I've come to the conclusion that this is like bootcamp for new parents.  It's the minor leagues.  When we get to the Major League (Kindergarten) we will be prepared and invincible!

Maybe not invincible, but we will be dodging bad (germ) pitches left and right!  I'm a rookie in the world of educational sickness.

I'm in complete awe of Allie's teachers.  I have three very good reasons why.

First of all, they are totally impervious to all of the germy bodily fluids that fly around that classroom.  I asked one of them the other day how she manages to not catch a cold, and she said that her immune system is really strong after being subjected to colds for so many years as a teacher.

(Side note: and how STRONG it is!  She recently told me a hilarious story about when a kid sneezed right in her face and her mouth was open.  Instinctively she reached for Purell and wiped her tongue with it without thinking.)

The second reason why I love Allie's teachers is that they tolerate my wacky husband (they actually find him endearing, thank God!), who until recently was staying for the first 15-20 minutes of Allie's 2.5 hour class to make sure she was comfortable with him leaving her there.

There was always some reason.  "She started to cry when I went to leave."  "She begged me to stay."  "She's not feeling well so I wanted to make sure she would be okay before I left."  Complete helicopter parent.

Now you see where the title of my blog came from.  HE is assuming the traditional "mom role" and I'm trying to work out my mom role somewhere on the flip side.

Finally, after talking with the teachers (did I mention that I love them?) about this, I finally had a little chat with him.  "It's been four months.  You need to just go.  Do you see any other parents there for the first fifteen minutes of class?"

"Sometimes I do!  And sometimes there are other parents there, too! You're not there.  You don't know."  Um.....sure.

I could see where this was going.  I had to bring in testimony from an expert witness.  "Well, I talked to Mrs. J (one of the teachers) and she thinks that Allie will be just fine if you drop her off and go.  Remember the first day how they told us that she would stop crying by the time we reached the end of the driveway?"

"They told me that they are fine with me being there!"

"Yes, dear.  That's what they say to your face.  Behind your back they are thinking maybe you should get the hell out of there before I have to pay a second tuition for your forty year old ass."

The truth is that they really don't care.  But they have also told me that they think it would be fine for him to leave far earlier than he does.  I also know that he's sweet and polite and entertaining....and they know that it's really HIM who has a hard time letting go.  Not her.

Now he drops her off, says goodbye and leaves.  He's moving out of Rookie status in the "cut the umbilical cord" department.

The third reason why I love Allie's pre-school teachers is this:
This is what Allie gave us for Christmas.  I started crying as soon as I opened it up.  Her little footprints and toe prints put together in such adorable fashion.  I never expected something so creative!  She also brought home cookies that they baked that day, but as you can imagine they are long gone.  Very tasty though!

As soon as I started crying, Allie started checking me out.  She figured out that it was a happy cry and she got all maternal on me, she hugged me and told me it was going to be okay and that she loved me.  My heart felt like it was the size of Alaska, full of love!

I hope you all are having a wonderful holiday season!

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Tuesday, December 10, 2013

Five Out and Five In

Happy 5000 Blog Views!  Wow!  For something that started as a project for fun, I've been lucky to have so many people interested in "the opinion of little ole me"!  Whether it was 10 people who showed up 500 times or 50 people who showed up 100 times or whatever, this has been a lovely experience and I'm grateful and honored that you have been here.  Thank you.

I hope you all had a magnificent Thanksgiving.  Mine was tremendous.  Thank you for asking.  I am a great lover of the traditional Thanksgiving meal and we celebrated twice over the weekend, so how could it go wrong?  This was the first Thanksgiving in six years that I didn't have to work and got to really enjoy it.   Plus I got to see all of the family I love, on my side and my in-laws.  Four star Thanksgiving for sure!  I'll attach a photo or two at the end.

Allie, the child who has an unusually diverse vocabulary, has thrown some zingers my way.  I say diverse because she can be totally incorrect with her grammar, and she follows it by busting out the four star words that make us go, "How in the hell does she know that?"  Sometimes you will get them both within the same conversation.  One minute she will say, "I seed the pap-ah ova thay-rr" and the next she will say "Would you like to read the instructions as well?"  One minute she's a New Yawker and the next she's little miss proper grammar.

So, in her honor, I'm going to list the five most irritating words/phrases that make me wish the Language Police would come fine people for using them, along with five that I feel should be snuck into Webster's Dictionary.  DON'T CLICK THAT BUTTON!  I know you're rolling your eyes and thinking 'borrrrrrrrrring', but I implore you to just skim through this.  Do it just for shits and giggles!  You might be saying this stuff and don't know it's wrong, therefore, you will learn just like I did from someone else.  I'm only sharing knowledge, not preaching.  We be equals, dawg.

Bad bad words that give me pre-vomit cheek water:

1- IRREGARDLESS :  This sucker is numero uno.  For those of you who think it's not a word, I regret to inform you that it is.  Some jackass in 1912 decided he wanted to sound like a smartypants (more on that one later) and started using it. Here is my argument....Regardless means "in spite of things" or "without care".  And that freaking "IR" they slapped at the means it's going to be the opposite of the rest of the word "REGARDLESS".  So does that mean irregardless means "caring about things; with care"?  Nope.  Oh my gawd, it's too exhausting.  I hate the person who made this word up.

2- COULD CARE LESS: So, you COULD?  Then that means you DO care a bit.  It's "Couldn't care less".  That means that you've reached the bottom of giving a shit.  You totally don't care.  Not even a rat's ass worth of caring.  "COULD" is the opposite of what you really mean, and trust me when I tell you that people hear it and the polite ones are thinking, 'What a moron.  It's couldn't, not could."  Maybe you don't care that people think you're a moron.  Therefore you couldn't care less.  (see how I did that?!)

3- FUNCTIONABILITY:  Not a word.  Not even a little bit.  The person is trying to say functionality, but functionability sounds so much more impressive, doesn't it?  Not if you know it's not a word!

4- JOHN DOE OR MYSELF:  When I worked at a large company, I saw the big cheeses doing this all of the time.  I sent them all an email saying "It's not: Please see John or myself.  It is: Please see John or me."  Not one person changed.  They think adding "myself" sounds so fancy.  Trying to sound fancy is actually making them look like a jackass.  If you aren't sure what to use, follow this rule that my Mom taught me: "Take the other person out of the sentence and see what sounds right."  So, does "Please see myself" sound better than "Please see me"?  Nay nay.

5- IRONY IS NOT COINCIDENCE - The other day I heard someone say, "It started pouring and ironically I had grabbed my umbrella this morning without knowing it was going to rain!"  Oh, heavy sigh.  IRONY is the opposite of COINCIDENCE.  I'm not going to lecture on this one.  Look it up.  I will summarize it with this: IRONY: "The irony of it is that I grabbed all of our rain coats umbrellas this morning thinking we were getting rain and it ended up being a perfectly sunny day."  COINCIDENCE: "I grabbed my umbrella without thinking this morning and coincidentally it began to pour the second I got out of my car."

Five words/phrases that don't receive proper recognition:

1- WACKADOODLE - I have no idea when I started using this term, but it perfectly summarizes a vast number of people I know.  People who are totally out of their minds, yet harmless, are wackadoodles.  I'm sure many of you are reading this and thinking "Hello, pot?  This is the're black!"

2- KAJUNGOUS or HUGEANTIC - When ginormous made it into the dictionary a few years ago, everyone and their cousin emailed me.  Why?  Because I used it all  of the time and people made fun of me.  Well, surprise, surprise!  Those peeps at Merriam-Webster beg to differ!  They find it useful.  Pllbth!  Kajungous was a favorite from high school, but Hugeantic (hugely gigantic) really is interchangeable with Ginormous (gigantically enormous).  They just don't know it yet.

3- AGREEANCE - it just flows better than "agreement".  And it does have an air of smartypantsness. It's in the dictionary, but the dictionary peeps are a bunch of snobs who put it in there under duress and discourage the usage.

4- CLUSTERF*CK - I know I'm pushing it with this one.  But who hasn't been in the middle of a project that has gone seriously wrong?  And if you're pissed about the disaster, this one works well.  I often wonder if Obama got into the White House, evaluated the situation in the Middle East and looked at his constituents and said, "Well, isn't this just one big giant clusterfuck??!!"

5- ________PANTS - My grand finale.  My personal favorite.  Einstein was a smartypants.  When Allie gives me the "nnnnnnnnnno!" answer to my requests, she's a freshypants.  I was sick on and off for three months, so I was sickypants.  The bitch who cut me off at the gas station and gave me the finger this morning was a nastypants.  She was a snottypants too.  Love it.

Feel free to add your own personal favorites in the comments!

By the way, my site will have it's own Facebook page as of this week.  I'm not sure how well this all will work, but if you would like to "like" it, I'd love it.

In the meantime, here are a few photos from the past few days:
"Just give me one more minute and I'll have this thing working.  And YES, the backscratcher is a necessary tool for this repair!"

"Hello.  My name is Allie.  I'll be your server this evening.  What can I get you?"

"This restaurant stinks.  I'm overworked and underpaid. I can't even read my own handwriting anymore."  

4pm on November 28th....Allie finally gets over her 3 YEAR shyness with her Uncle and sees that he's damn awesome. (Fortunately they play together better than he and I did when we were her age!)

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Sunday, November 24, 2013

A Weight Loss Milestone.....whew!

I finally have hit the "25 pound" milestone.  It certainly took awhile.  And it was effing brutal at times.

I will never see those numbers ever again.  They are ugly, mean numbers.  Right now, I am creeping up on a number that I haven't seen since high school.  When I get there I think I'll just ease up and linger there for a little bit.

However, Operation Fattypants is not complete.  There will be future assaults on the fat that hasn't left! I think that the lingering a bit at a certain weight will help.  The fat cells will let their guard down.  Then I can sneak attack the sonsabitches just when they think it's over!

Anyway, someone asked me last week about the most helpful thing I did for myself that isn't being sold on every a diet plan.  That was a stumper.  I had to think about it for a bit.

Then I remembered a letter I wrote.  I wrote it to myself back in July.  My desperate, old self was writing to my encouraged, new self.  I highly recommend this to anyone before they embark on trying "one more time" to get in shape, especially if you've tried a gazillion times like I have.  

It was hard to start, but then I thought, "I need to speak to myself as if I was talking to someone I love and care about."  So, I imagined that the person I was writing to was just that.... someone I love a lot.  Unfortunately, I didn't envision my current self because, well, I didn't love myself much back then as you will soon see.

I carried the letter with me and took it out when Peanut M&Ms, amongst other things, were calling my name.  (Those M&Ms are noisy little bastards.....especially during PMS)  At times when I didn't have it with me, I still heard me reminding myself of this pep talk.  I needed me to kick my ass from time to time and I did.

I'm actually going share the letter here.  I kind of flip flopped on whether I should do this at all, but what the hell!  A few days ago I was giving you my State Of The Breasts rant, so this isn't any more personal than that.


Dear Vicki,

I'm writing a letter to you in the future but when you read this, it will be written  in the past.    I sit here looking into the future with hope, and also with fear of failure.  I keep hoping that the person I become (you, right now) will have the strength to continue through when things get tough.....because I know they will. 

You will feel lonely or angry or sad or resentful and all of these thing will make you want to eat something that isnt part of the plan right now.  You will think of your comfort foods (donuts, everything little debbie, peanut m&ms, pancakes, etc) and something inside of you will say "If I can eat this, I will feel better.  And its just ONE time.  I'll go back to eating right later today."

Here's the thing.  That food will make you feel numb for a little bit.  But then you will feel anxious and depressed.  You will feel like you let yourself down and your body will feel like its growing fat cells as you sit there.  You will be tired, lazy, grumpy, etc.  And you will feel unattractive to yourself and others.

Please dont do it.  I'm begging you not to.  Give us a chance.  Let us have a shot at being thinner and feeling good physically.  Give it one seriously good try!!!!  Please????  I dont want to be like this anymore.  

You are my only hope, so Im writing to you to try to convince you that you can get thru this without that food.  That annoying cliche' is really true.  Nothing tastes as good as thin feels.  Nothing.  That bite of candy or cake feels good for 10 minutes.  Feeling fit feels good ALL DAY.  From when you wake up until when you go to sleep.

You don't want your daughter to have a fat mother.  Not even a chubby mom.  You want her to see your example and strive for that.  You will be able to keep up with her and do things you cant do now with her.  Do it now, for the future, while there is still time to do this type of thing.  As she gets older, you need to be more physically fit to keep up.  Don't get left behind.  

People start getting sick around your age.  Heart problems, cancers, etc.  Losing weight will help prevent this.  Just like quitting smoking helped reduce the chance of lung cancer (and doesn't that feel good to not have to worry strongly about that?) losing weight will help reduce a bunch of other things.

Right now, I look in the mirror and Im disgusted.  Gross.  I see fat rolls on my stomach.  I see cellulite on my thighs.  I see fat hanging over my bra.  My arms are slabs of meat.  I am a fat person.  Look at the photo from the july 4th fireworks.  You look enormous.  

Who is that person????  That's not who I think I am in my head.  Why because Im so disconnected from my body.  My mind still thinks Im a size 8 or something.  And Im a 14 going on 16 in reality.

I feel unattractive and don't want to even be hugged  by my husband.  He is being neglected because I am fat.  How awful to be that way over something you have the power to change!   He will leave you eventually if you keep this up.  Not because I'm fat, but because he feels unloved by someone who pushes him away due to embarrassment.  You CAN change that.

Dont give up!

Does the food taste bad?  Do whatever it takes to get it down.  Its not forever.  Just a few weeks!  You've eaten worse.

Are you bored with the food?  Its just food.  And you are trying to get rid of the importance of food.  If you keep at it, you wont care about how boring it is.

DId you cheat already?  Well, move on.  Do something to make up for it.  Extra exercise.  Eat less later.  Whatever.  Just fix the problem and get back on track.  I am counting on you.

Go have some water.  Take a walk.  Write.  Read something enjoyable like a kindle book or a funny blog.  Move around.  Do something else besides giving up.  I know you can do it.  You survived a whole mess of way worse things.  You will totally get thru this too!  And when we reach the other side, its going to feel great.  And we will have each other to thank for it.

I love you.

Wednesday, November 20, 2013

Potty Training and Droopy Boobs

Happy Hump Day, people!

Thanksgiving is just 8 days away and Christmas is..... well, it's coming soon.  I don't want to even check the number because it just completely freaks me out that Christmas is coming and I haven't shopped.  I'm still in the brainstorming phase.  There is a list and there are plans, but there's no money, so we are going to put in a little more time brainstorming.

To those of you who are done holiday shopping, I have two things to say.....
#1 - I am sincerely impressed and jealous of your ability to plan, execute and complete a yearly task that, for most people, evokes the desire to get hammered instead.
#2 - Also, f**k you.  I say that with love.

On to other things....

About a year ago we started the potty training process.  Again, we were in the brainstorming phase.  (We seem to spend an inordinate amount of time doing that.)  Potties were purchased, research was done, books were brought home for Allie, pull up diapers were bought, stuff was happening.  I spoke with parents and got advice and took notes.

One thing that I kept hearing and reading was, "She will do it when she's ready."  But did I believe that?  Nooooo.

After all, I was hearing stories about parents who were able to potty train their kids in a week or a weekend or even overnight.  These kids just caught right on and did it.   Poised and precise pee-ers and poopers.

But many of them were doing it because they couldn't send their kids to preschool unless they were out of diapers or they were just tired of changing diapers and felt their kids were ready.  I was really sympathetic to the first group, since a lot of people don't have a choice.  They need to send their kids to school and have no choice but to give a crash course in potty protocol.

Allie was intrigued by the whole process, but she wasn't committed to this new way of life.  If you've been reading this blog, you've seen how seriously she has been taking this so far.  (See It's My Potty And I'll Try If I Want To )  That potty seat spent more time on her head than under her tushy.  It was both entertaining and discouraging.

However, through it all, I kept going back to that one statement. "She will do it when she's ready."

And she did!

Yeeeee haw!!!

Mind you, she hasn't quite mastered it yet, but she's super close.

Out of nowhere she started telling us she was going to use the bathroom.  She even began asking for "Privacy please" as she shut the door in our faces.  Every day she spent more and more time in her "big girl underpants".  I don't know what motivated her, but I'm not going to question it.  I don't want to jinx it again.  We were thisclose to being potty trained in May and she totally regressed, so I know first hand that anything can happen!

I'm so proud of her.  I never thought I could be so thrilled about someone using a toilet, but I am.  There's practically a parade going through my house every time it happens.

Before I go, I have to get something else off my chest.  (Pun totally intended.)

My boobs are falling.

Yes, you read that right.  And I hate to be a downer bringing this up, but I need support right now (again, pun intended).

I know this has been a work in progress for a few years now, but it only really hit me today.  And I'm shocked, to be honest.   I thought I was cheating the system.


As a teenager, I slept with a bra on because I never wanted droopy boobs.  As an adult, I spent a fortune on bras.  The past few years, I've bought top of the line sports bras to wear while I'm working.  And what do I get in return?  Floppy breasts.  Gee, thanks.

The moral of this story?  You can't beat nature.  The aging process stops for no one.  Not even Joan Rivers or Lara Flynn Boyle.  They THINK they are winning, but we all see how damn scary they actually look while trying to look "young".  Wrinkle free does not mean ageless, peeps!

If you are young and have big breasts, your boobies will be sagging too one day.  So enjoy them while you can.  And start saving for quality lingerie.  Because you're going to need it if you want to make it look like they're still perky at 40.  Or you can get "breast augmentation surgery".  Either way, start saving your dollars.

Enjoy the second half of your week, friends!

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Thursday, November 14, 2013

I Think It's Diphtheria

I'm sick.  Again.  I think it's diphtheria.

Okay, maybe diphtheria is a little extreme.  After all, only 56 people in the US have had it in the past 30 years, but maybe I'm part of the 1.866666 people who will get it this year.

I really hope I'm the "1" in that statistic.  I'd hate to be considered only .866666 of a person, although some would say that I lost my mind awhile ago, so that would account for the .133334 that could be missing.

It's round three with the same damn thing that started at the end of September.  I'm sure it's just a virus, but as I was self-diagnosing myself on the internet, I found that my symptoms matched diphtheria.  It's a good think I'm not a hypochondriac.  I'd be freaking.

Allie has been sick since October 4th.  She and my mom both got sick at the same time.  My mom got over it, but Allie has been coughing and sneezing and congested since then.  Justin has been sick twice since this lovely bug showed up.  And the damn thing clearly has some sort of vendetta as far as I'm concerned.  Three times???  Have some mercy!

Over the past weekend, we were sitting in bed watching a Bar Rescue marathon, when Justin started hacking and I sneezed a few times.  He looked at me and with complete seriousness he stated, "We are going to be sick until she graduates from high, school aren't we?"

Justin is convinced that Allie brought this illness home, courtesy of her preschool chums.  We were warned that Allie would probably get sick many times during her first year at any school since she wasn't really subjected to groups of kids for her first three years. She had only had a cold once, and that started New Year's Eve 2010.  We all got sick and within a week, we were fine.  Otherwise, no germies.

I have no idea how the teachers manage to avoid it.  I'm sure they have incredible immune systems, but considering where preschoolers put their hands and mouths, it's a damn miracle that they are so healthy.  They are like anti-viral/bacterial super-heroes.  I think they must have some magical medical force surrounding them, because I can't survive the germs that ONE toddler carries around, let alone the germs of 15!

As for this evening, I'm going to try to control my snifflingsneezingcoughingachingstuffyheadwithoutrest situation by rendering myself unconscious as I scarf down some nighttime medication.

I hope you all are healthy.....may the "Pre-school Teacher Force" be with you!

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Monday, November 11, 2013

You're Too Nice!

Three little words that have confused me for a very long time: You're too nice.

I would like to know exactly when being nice became a problem of excess.  When did being nice become a no-no?  Where exactly is that line between "just enough nice" and "too nice"?  Someone help me with this please!

There is the 
"you're nice to the point of being a moron
" judgement, as well as the 
"you're nice to the point of being suspicious and you must have alterior motives
" problem.
I may be the first one, but the second one pisses me off and 
I hear it more than anything.  
I dont think 
I'm excessively amicable, and many days my husband would be standing behind me, nodding his head like crazy.


Before I continue, I would like to put my meanie-pants on and bitch slap you just so I can be like the cool kids and have the appropriate amount of nasty going on while we talk here.  Cuz I'm not really sure what I'm doing in this "bad girl territory", so I figure that's a good place to start.
I'm a mid-western girl.  My parents moved to the east coast when I was 13.  I was traumatized because the month before we moved, my father had travelled to Aruba to look at a restaurant, so I thought that if we were moving that we would be heading to that "One Happy Island".

Nay, nay.

Instead of working on a tan and gettin' my island groove on, I found myself being analyzed and torn apart by my peers who were kind of harsh.  I dressed wrong, I spoke wrong, I carried myself wrong, and I was "too nice", which was an undesirable trait.  So, yes, I've been confused since I was 13.

But I'm not alone!  My mother, also born and raised as a mid-west girl, has been hearing the same judgement since we got here.  She's just as confused as I am about this one.  However, a few weeks ago,  she uttered those dreadful words to me, and my response was, "When did it become wrong to be nice?  Either I'm nice or I'm stupid.  But there is no "too nice".  Maybe they're just too f*cking bitchy???"

I listen to Howard Stern on satellite and when you hear people talk about his wife, Beth, they always marvel about how nice she is and how she's such "an angel".  Well, I hate to break it to you all, but I grew up in the same place that she did, and I'm the same age that she is, and her behavior seems entirely appropriate and normal to me.  It's no big shocker.  In fact, I have a boatload of cousins who are just like her!  If you got us all together in one room and filmed it, apparently they could promote it as a science fiction series or some other oddity.  An observation of a herd of Too Nicers?   Ooooooo!  Scary stuff.  (oh, puh-leez)

My husband says part of why he married me because of my morality.  When he mentions behavior here that I find mean spirited or selfish, I'm always shocked.  And when I'm shocked, he's surprised.  To him, it's all normal.  It's normal for people close to you take advantage of you, or to turn their backs on you, or abandon you for an extended period of time, or blatantly lie to you, or to say shitty things and expect you to get over it because they "feel better after venting".  I'll stop there.  I'm sure you get it.
Justin is dying to go to where I grew up just so he can see if there actually ARE more people like my mother, my brother and me.  Like we are some kind of Holier Than Thou side show freaks in his world? While I'd love to think we are special, the fact is that people who live further away from big metropolitan areas are different, and there are tons more like us. 

When I have to explain my "level of niceness" in a discussion, it usually starts with, "You know me....the happy idiot!"  I say it with a smile, but I know it's what many people think.  I know because I have good hearing and they talk too loud.

Here's my drama.  I want my daughter to think and live her life more like my family and less like "the local status quo".

Don't get me wrong, I love the extra bit of self confidence and outspoken tendencies of the people from here.  I like that they have a thicker skin and are a little less sensitive.  And I think it's awesome that they will get in your face and tell you that you're an asshole when you really deserve it!  However, I can't seem to figure out how to make "bad ass" and "too nice" merge.  At some point they start to work against each other.
This made me think of some of my prior employers..... especially at one "driven" company 
If I had my druthers, Allie would be kind and loving to people, but speak up when she's being treated in a way she doesn't like.  I want her to stick up for herself and for others who deserve it, but in a way that is respectful and intelligent.  She should be too nice, but only to people who deserve it.  And when people use her pleasant and good natured demeanor against her and criticize her for it, I hope it doesn't deter her from being a good person in the future (insert kick in the shin here).

I must clarify that everyone here isn't a bigfatjerkface.  There are many awesome people sprinkled around this area.  Granted, some of them are from out of town as well, but there are just as many that were born and raised here.  And you know what they tell me?  They say that people always tell them that they are "too nice".

Really, people?  How did something so good become so wrong?

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Friday, November 8, 2013

Morbidity, Mortality and Tattoos

I feel like I've been writing a lot about death lately.  That kind of freaks me out a bit.  It's been a haunting topic the past few weeks.  Most of it kind of funny.  But for some reason, it's been touching my life a bit more seriously.  And I'm speaking beyond the death of Mr. Mouse and my husband traveling with dead people.

About eight  years ago, I had a large spurt of loss going on around me.  Friends died, my neighbor died, my friends' pets were dying and, oddly enough, I was taking a course called Death And Dying at school.  It seemed to be taking over my world.

There was a photo at the start of my class' textbook that I was drawn to.  I had been wanting to get another tattoo for a few years but I wanted to wait until something meaningful came along.  When I realized how often I looked at the photo, that's when I knew it was time.  I found my last tattoo.

These are photos from the day I had it done.  Keep in mind that it's the same tattoo.  If you look at it one way, it says Death and if you turn your head, it says Life.  If you don't believe me, just flip yourself....or your screen, which would probably be easier.  I took all of the hard work out of it for you and just flipped the camera.  I'm nice like that.

I love this tattoo.  It really represents something to me.  Life and death are so interchangeable, inescapable, and you can't have one without the other. 

Little did I know that it's also pretty popular amongst the prison population, but I'm okay with that.  Coincidentally, I was in school with the intention of becoming a prison psychologist.  Sometimes the strangest crap happens to me.

So, this Tuesday I woke up to find a text from one of my customers saying that one of her two dogs had died suddenly during the night.  I have been seeing these two boxers almost every Monday thru Friday for nearly five years and when I tell you that this boxer was the most excitable ball of energy I've ever seen, I'm not kidding.  He was in non-stop play mode.  

Sweet Jameson was only seven when he died.  He had an undetected brain tumor and got very sick over the course of 12 hours and the animal hospital was unable to save him.  His humans don't have human children so the dogs are their babies.  As you can imagine, they are just devastated by the loss.

Allie heard me talking to Jameson's "mom" on the phone that morning and on the way to school, she asked me what happened to him.  I can't even remember the answer I gave her.  I know it was sucky because even I wasn't sure what I was talking about.  

Then we passed a cemetery.  "What are those rocks," Allie asked, referring to the headstones.

What are the chances that after passing that cemetery nearly every day for her entire life, that she would suddenly notice the headstones right as we are discussing death?  Apparently, they are odds are pretty good.

"Those are headstones or grave markers.  They put them over the graves of people after they are buried."

"WHAT????!!"  I looked in my rearview mirror and saw that her eyes were the size of dinner plates.  "Buried??  In the ground??!"

Shit, shit, SHIT!  This was not the best conversation to start during a ten minute ride to preschool first thing in the morning.  And I was entirely unprepared to explain death and burial to a child already.  After all, I hadn't done all of the neurotic necessary research that tends to accompany serious child related issues.  Why wasn't I one of those parents who could come up with just the right thing to say about stuff like this without totally freaking her out?  I could come up with a fake bedtime story with no problem, but a REAL answer about an important topic was a stumper for me.

"When people die..."

"What do you mean die?" she interrupted.

"When people go to sleep for a long time...."  Already I was screwing up.  I remembered that I had read awhile ago that you never compare death to sleeping when explaining death to a child.  They might be afraid to fall asleep after that.

Just then, the car in front of me slammed on the breaks as the light turned red.  What a freakin' blessing THAT was!  

"Mommy, red means stop."  Allie has the attention span of a goldfish sometimes.

I'm no fool.  I was NOT prepared for this parental death test and I saw an out. "That is exactly right!  Red means stop!  And do you know what green and yellow mean?"  I was very enthusiastic about this new conversation regarding traffic signage.  I was grabbing the opportunity to dodge the death discussion and hanging on for dear life.

I don't know if there is a proper age to explain death to a child when it doesn't accompany a personal experience.  I will have to obsessively research this one.  However, if you have any good information to share, I'd love to hear it.  

Have a good weekend, my dear bleeps!  (blog peeps)

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Monday, November 4, 2013

Open Letter to Our Teeny Houseguest

Dear Mister Mouse,

I would like to apologize about how our first meeting wrapped up.  It was not at all how I intended for it to end.  But then again, it was not on my agenda to meet in the first place, so I was really kind of winging it.  You should've had your people call my people to schedule a visit.

Let me applaud you on your elusive methods of getting our attention.   We were thisclose to thinking we were losing our minds.  Every time we heard the strange commotion, we would shut off the television and sit quietly to try to locate where the noise was coming from.  But you were far more experienced at this game than we were and you would clam up the minute we got quiet.  We spent a good portion of the evening playing "freeze and look suspicious" in order to narrow down your location.  I believe I could hear my heartbeat at one point.  And my need to breathe really pissed me off because I was sure that it was inhibiting my ability to hear clearly.

I have no idea when the cat got involved.  To be honest, she's really a chunky, furry, lazy-ass, so I'm surprised she chose to poke her nose in your business at all.   The first question I asked my husband when I forced him to look in that laundry room while I huddled in a ball on the couch was, "Is that cat in there?!" You can't imagine my surprise when I discovered she was with you.  "Yup.  She's here."  She may have intervened, but she kept the action to a minimum, didn't she?  I didn't hear any feline sounds coming from that room.  You could've kicked her ass with no problem.

Even thought I was completely freaked out about you running around our condo, I'm not heartless.  I really just wanted you to vacate the premises.  There's oodles of forrest land around this complex.  You looked like an industrious fella so I bet you would conquer the mouse territories with no problem.  Surely you would have been more comfortable in the wild than in our house.  We're on a diet.  There's slim pickins here.  No good eats.

I am as shocked as you probably were when Justin tried to trap you with that jumbo cat feeder (now you know why she's fat.... key word is "JUMBO")  When I heard the "uh-oh", my fear of a rodent encounter was instantly replaced with a fear for your life.  We don't have much mouse trapping experience so "we" reached for the first thing we could find.  How did we know that you would try to flee as the hollow bottomed feeder came slamming down?

I can best explain my thoughts and feelings by sharing a text conversation I had with my mother during the last moments of your life:

ME: There is something in our laundry room !!! A bat or mouse or something!!!
ME: It's a mouse.
ME: We have it cornered.  The cat alerted us but didn't do her job.  Of course.
MOM: I think we have a trap of you need one.
ME: Kill trap??
MOM: I think so.  ____ gave it to us.  You definitely want to get it out of your house before it gets into your kitchen and leaves little droppings.
(this is the sad part)
ME: He is no longer with us.
ME: Accidentally murdered.
ME: Deceased
ME: Moment of silence please
ME: No poopers will be left behind now.  The poop maker is gone.
MOM: NOW.....just how did this happen????
ME: Yes, now
ME: Justin killed him by accident trying to trap him under something
ME: I think I'm mourning  a little bit
ME: Oh jeez.  Justin just flung him toward ______'s place.  Not even a respectable burial!
(where were the condolences?)
ME: Hello?
MOM:  Oh poor granddaughter!
ME: Why???
MOM: No reason....just a crazy mother, that's all.
ME: Gee thanks. I can't imagine where I get it from
MOM: Your father, of course!

In conclusion, I'm sorry that you're dead.  I suppose it was better that you were accidentally killed by the cat feeder.  Considering the speed at which Lucky does things, it would have been a slow, torturous death if left up to the cat.  If anyone comes looking for you, I'll let them know that it was quick and painless.  I hope you're in the Great Cheese Factory in the sky, chomping away on a big fat piece of gouda or pecorino romano......or perhaps Brie if you were a fancy mouse.


p.s. I'd really appreciate it if we kept it to ourselves that I was hiding behind my three year old during this experience.  She's a brave little soul, isn't she?  Totally badass.

Dear Cat,

Sorry for the slanderous statements.  There was some truth to your inactivity and lack of hunting skills.   And keep in mind that you only started liking me during the past year.  I'm really not obligated to say super nice things about you.   I'm still a little suspicious of your motives, but you're cute so I'm willing to work it out.  Next time maybe you could take care of business though?

Love (With Caution),
The female human

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Thursday, October 31, 2013

Taxi of the Deceased

In honor of Halloween, I'm finally going to divulge the story about my husband driving around with dead people in his truck.  I've mentioned it a few times and I keep saying that I'm going to tell you, but I  also keep forgetting.

Now is the moment.

Mind you, when I tell this story, most people have the same reaction at first.  So if you find yourself staring at the screen with the look of utter confusion/shock/whatthefuckness on your face as you read on, it's the common response.   

This blog entry's disclaimer is that I swear that my husband is NOT insane.  However, I DO believe that he should be supervised or checked up on at regular intervals because he's very creative, and intelligent and his thought processes get him into weird predicaments.  Those of us who know him are not concerned that he spends a good portion of his day shaping the mind of a small human, so that should confirm that he's A-OK.  He's a good kind of "wackadoodle".  (And he makes me feel normal.)

A few days before Hurricane Sandy in 2012, I came home from work and Justin looked particularly excited about something.  Usually, he's very chill and laid back.  Instead he looked like a big ole happy yellow lab, bounding over, in my face, excited to greet me at the door.... minus the crotch sniffing, of course.

"You are never going to believe what happened to me today at the storage bin!"

Well, if that doesn't make you tingle with anticipation, I don't know what will.  


I put my work stuff down and was preparing myself for one of those long winded stories that is usually about nothing too thrilling, because the poor guy doesn't get much excitement in his day.  'Deep breath.  Focus, Vicki.  Focus.  Liven up and look interested now!"

"I can't possibly imagine what you found at Bob's that could elicit this much enthusiasm."  We have a truck stored there.  The truck stores lots of crap that isn't worthy of being part of the practice room for hoarding, a/k/a our garage.

"I found dead people!"

Ok.  I admit my interest was piqued.  He got me on this one.  Interesting shit DOES happen at Bob's!

"Excuse me?"  

"Dead people.  In boxes.  I found them in the dumpster!"  It was as if he found a brontosaurus skeleton or something.  He was seriously pumped!  

"In the dumpster???  What in the hell are you talking about???"

"I went to Bob's to get something from the truck and thought I would throw out some stuff.  I took it to their dumpster and when I looked in, I saw these three cardboard boxes.  The were still sealed, so I was kind of curious what was in there."

I'm staring at him and all I can think of is, 'Oh my God, he's so bored that he's dumpster diving now.  This is very sad.'

"Justin, you took people's garbage out of the dumpster?"

"Vic, I HAD to know.  You know how I am."  

Yes, I do.  If he was a cat, he'd probably be dead by now from his crazy curiosity.

"I opened the boxes and there were dead people in there!  Someone threw out cremated remains.  They had never even opened up the boxes.  And there was information in there too.  Names and dates and photos."

"There were photos in the boxes?"  No one put photos in my father's box when we got his ashes back.  I felt a bit slighted.

"No.  The photos were in the dumpster under the boxes." 

"You went back in the dumpster to get the photos???  Are you kidding?"  The visual of him digging around in a dumpster was so odd.  He's a germaphobe!

"It all was right on top.  It's not like I was purposely looking through the dumpster for shit.  I didn't even have to get in."  

"Thank God.  That's disgusting.  Plus you aren't supposed to do stuff like that."  Handicapped man + dumpster diving = big no-no.  The doctor hadn't included that on the list of stuff he wasn't supposed to do.  It was pretty much a given.

So, I listened the whole story and he went out and got the boxes and the photos.  I admit that I was a little intrigued.  And saddened.  Three people lived on this earth, died, were mourned by their family/friends who had them cremated, and then some uncaring asshole tossed them in the garbage, along with personal photos of precious moments of those lives.  

Every pet that has passed since 2000 has been cremated and they all are in boxes on a shelf in my bedroom.  My father, as some of you may remember from last week, is in my daughter's room, busy waking her up in the middle of the night.  I keep the remains of those that I love close to me.  I can't even imagine spreading the ashes in a lovely place outside, let alone toss them in the dumpster.  Clearly, the person who threw these boxes out didn't really care about them.  They put them in a community dumpster with unwanted things.

"What are you going to do with these people," I asked.  

"I don't know.  I have to find out what you do with them."  I suggested that he call a funeral home and ask them what you could do.  You aren't allowed to bury pets in your yard, so there MUST be some sort of limitations about what you can do with human remains, right?

Days went by.  I forgot about the dead people.  

Then Hurricane Sandy hit and our area became a disaster.  We lost electricity for a few days and everything that was outside was tossed around.  Apparently Sandy was big on renovations and landscaping. 

She also enjoyed dumping everyone's garbage and recycling onto the lawns.  There were photos everywhere.  I came outside the next day to find my neighbors collecting photographs that were strewn all over the complex and joined in to help.

"Who are these people?  I don't recognize anyone.  Do you guys know who they are?"  I didn't see one familiar face.  I'm big on photographs so I was hoping that I could collect them and we could give them back to the person who probably thought that they had lost them forever.

When I got back inside, I told Justin about the photos and he looked a bit guilty.  "Those are the dead people."

"Oh my God!  Justin, are you kidding me??  You still have the dead people??!" I couldn't believe that he still hadn't done anything with them yet.  

"Yeah," he answered sheepishly.  "I kept forgetting to do something with them.  I'm still not sure who to ask and I've been really busy the past few days.  So, I've been driving them around."

I blinked and reiterated, "You're driving them around."  He was that desperate for company that he was hanging out with dead people?

"Yep."  I could hear his brain cranking, trying to think of something good to use as an excuse.  "Just think, if I didn't bring them home and drive them around all week, they probably would've been spread all over Bob's parking lot in the storm.  That's no way to be dead."

More blinking.  I do a lot of blinking at him when he says this kind of stuff.  I think that he's partially serious and partially going for some shock value.  It's all about doing really nutty crap in the most normal fashion possible.

"Get rid of them, Justin.  You're completely freaking me out.  Before you know it, you'll be Googling them, trying to find out more information about who they are.  Your new dead friends."

"I already did that.  I couldn't find anything."

Flash forward a week or so.  

I come home from work and there's the bouncy, happy lab running at me again.  "Guess what I did!"

"Brought home more dead people?"  That was sarcasm, kinda.  If he said yes, I would not have been surprised.

"No.  I got rid of them.  I ran into a cop at the gas station and asked him what I should do with them."  

Again, I"m intrigued.  And shocked.  "You asked a cop?!  And he didn't arrest you or have you carted away?  How did you approach this subject?"

"I just walked up and told him about my situation and how I found them in the dumpster and asked what I should do with them," he said very matter-of-a-factly.

"And?  What did he say?"

"He asked me to repeat myself and then he told me to hold on while he called someone to find out."

Personally, at this point, I would seriously consider driving away for fear that the police officer was going to contact the local psych hospital and they were going to send someone to get me.

"No one really seemed to know, so he suggested I scatter the ashes somewhere out of the way.  I went to the park and scattered them by the woods.  They're at peace now."  He seemed a bit peaceful himself.  I could tell that he felt better now that the people were somewhere proper.  

A few weeks ago I was searching for a box in the garage when I noticed a pile papers on the floor in the corner under a cart.  I stretched under and grabbed the pile and slid it out carefully.  In the midst of some old college papers were some photos.  The photos I had picked up on the lawn about a year ago.  The dead people.  I thought I had thrown them all out after I found out who they were.

I thought about the dumpster and how kind it was for Justin to respect the ashes.  He respected them more than the person who threw them out and was probably connected to them somehow.   As much as I made fun of him for driving dead people around, I think it's sweet.  It was a caring gesture.  

I'm sure I will tell Allison about this one day and she will have her own opinion about how cuckoo/normal she thinks it is.  But it has a good moral to the story.  Respect the dead.  Even when you don't know them.  Because every life is important.  Every life has purpose.  Respect the purpose.

Plus if you make fun of them, apparently they will screw with you.  In the middle of the pile of photos of the dead people was a photo of me and a dog and bird..... who are also now deceased.

I took my photo out and threw out the rest of the photos.  Then I walked back inside and put it back on the side of the refrigerator, where it's been hanging for the past seven years.  I can't remember when it stopped hanging there.  Wasn't it always there?

I have no idea how that photo was removed from the fridge and tucked in with photos of strangers on the floor in the corner of my garage.  I'm too freaked out to think about it.


Happy Halloween Everyone!  xoxo

Me and the Peanut after Pumpkin Picking
HEY........How did she get all the way up there?????
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