What’s caffeine addicted, crazy as a loon and has short red hair?
March 22, 2006
[Editor’s note: We’ve had a lot of the heavy stuff. I need a break and am betting you do, too, from the heavy. No heavy lifting in this post. I do feel I need to share about the breakdown, but that will be soon. Thanks for hanging with me, people. You are better for me than that first cup of coffee…no wait….okay, yeah, you are!]
Last Friday my sister came to town. Yes, if you do the math that is exactly one day after I left her in Houston. Trust me, it was necessary for her to come, but that is a different story all together. As she unloaded all of her ginormous trappings one brings when going out of town, I just sat and watched from my front porch.
“Hey, looks a bit heavy. Need help?” But I was really just that out of it to think to actually get my ass up off of the chair to actually do it. To that she just replied, “No, dude, I am pretty sure this PURSE is the last thing, but the offer was cool.” Then we saw the absurdity of it all and began to giggle.
I would love to tell you the tales of taking the children to the zoo and the museums and the arboretum. I would love to tell you of the movies they saw, the games they played and the amazing meals they ate. I would love to, but I can’t. Because for one entire week, my sister and I sat on the couch and read every trash gossip rag known to man. (Oh, and a few unknown and some that could possibly be called reputable.) The kids played. The dogs played. In fact, while the kids were outside playing at the same time the dogs were outside playing, they all learned a new phrase. If they were all here I would have them recite it in an adorable chorus of cherubic voices, “NO HUMPING! NO NO NO HUMPING!”
From the oldest to the baby, they all had to yell it at the dogs at one time or another. (Yes, my sister and I are so proud!) As we sat on the couch with trash tv (Can someone please just tell Shawn he is the the friggin father or Belle’s baby already??!) and read magazines that made us lose IQ points (Want to know who is expecting, how far along they are and who the Baby Daddy is?), my sister looked up at me and said in a tone that could only be described as mock intimidation, “Oh my god, Supernanny would totally jump our shit for the way we are acting this week!”
Not as funny in the retelling, but the way the conversation went and the mimicked proclamations of poor parenting and reprimands from JoJo about what lazy mothers we were, we were laughing ourselves silly. We both needed it.
At one point, I was totally interrupted from my OK! magazine with the immediate need to check the mail. (No, I have no idea why. But when you have the immediate need to check the mail, you do it. Trust me. Don’t question crazy.) So mindlessly I opened my front door.
There stood a man who to the best of my ability to guess these things, had not shaved since Nixon was in office and wore clothes that had seen better days. Let me just say he shocked the shit out of me! I screamed the scream of a woman about to be murdered on her front door step, danced the “Oh-my-god-who-are-you-and-why-are-you-standing-at-my-door-don’t-kill-me” dance while trying so hard not to pee my pants then slammed the door in his face.
My sister casually looked up from her magazine and said, “Mail not here yet or is someone about to bludgeon you because that was one scary ass scream!”
I peeked out the peephole to see the man still standing there. I slowly opened the door when I realized all he was doing was putting flyer on my door. Making an honest living and this crazy woman SCREAMS right into his face and slams the door. I am lucky I did not give him a heart attack. He just put on hand over his heart and the other hand up towards me as if to ward off my insanity and keep ME from hurting HIM. I took his flyer. I think I may now have to have my entire yard landscaped in order to appease my guilt of nearly killing an innocent man with my SCREAM OF DOOM AND DEATH.
Another afternoon I told my sister to just go get pampered. The sentence was not quite out of my mouth before she was sprinting toward the van shouting out lunchtimes and nap-times. The day went well. I think. The kids all took care of themselves and I caught up on magazine gossip and still sat screaming that “Dammit someone better tell Shawn that is the father of Belle’s baby for the love of dragging a story line on too long to do anything but make people yell at their television set.” But when my sister got home, she had a gorgeous hair cut.
I was green with envy. “I want one!” I whined.
So (the real reason for this entire long winded babble-assing post), I got my hair cut off. Short. It was below the middle of my back and a sable-ish color. A hint of possible red, but not really.
I am guessing at this point you want to see it? Are you sure? Okay, here is one sneak peek:
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Posted by Jenn @
7:06 am | |
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Mumble, grumble, yawn!
September 26, 2005
I am home. In my own bed. My own clothes. My own shower. And my own family. I cannot begin to put into words the complete hell that the past week has been. I think I might have had a situation where my brain shut down just to have the ability to cope with the intense stress levels I was under. I am definitely not up to par yet. In fact, after dropping the kids off at school, I put my keys in the refrigerator, crawled into bed with my glasses still on my face and promptly fell asleep. For about 45 minutes. Then the phone starting ringing. For anyone who called me and was greeted by mumbling and incoherant babble-assing, forgive me. I didn’t mean to call you names or on the flip side I also didn’t mean to weep openly when you innocently asked, “How are you doing?”
I should be normal back to myself soon. Or at least I hope so. If not, just keep reminding me that I should check the fridge for any missing keys and the pantry for any lost shoes.
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Posted by Jenn @
2:18 pm | |
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In the Hospital!!!
September 23, 2005
Oh settle down. Not like that. She’s fine.
(I’m a stinker.. I know)
Jenn made it back to Houston (West side where impact is suspected to be light) and is staying in the hospital with her mom. The hospital is a very new ‘hardened’ building that is approximately 12 stories tall, has full backup power, cafeteria etc.
She was also ironically blessed by filling up her tank right by the hospital. She saw a lone woman at a gas station. Upon pulling up and asking the woman if the station actually had gas the woman replied that she had pulled up and tore the ‘out of service bag’ off of the handle and gave it a try. My wife pulled in and started filling up. People driving by immediately lined up and they were 6+ cars deep by the time she finished. This will be a great help when she finally is able to leave (hopefully Sunday) and come home.
I miss my baby!
-nef’s blog
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Posted by nefarious @
5:00 pm | |
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Psycho Hurricane Update
September 22, 2005
Howdy… nefarious (the husband) here. I have gotten a couple of emails and know many of you are concerned about Jenn since she has been in Houston. Here’s the latest:
She left her parent’s house this morning at 10:30 am.
As of a few minutes ago she has made it almost 60 miles.
Yep… you guys are pretty good at math. That is 11+ hours and 60 miles. That would be 5.45mph. She has used half a tank of gas. I don’t think she is setting any fuel efficiency records and most every place is out of gas. She is stopping at a friend of the family’s house for a pit stop, stretch and try to locate some fuel. She’s still in the zone that they are forecasting hurricane force winds. We’re playing it by ear.
UPDATE 08:30 CST 09/23/2005:
The phantom gas trucks have yet to be seen. Jenn was unable to find additional fuel. Fuel stations are sold out to the North. With this being the case she has decided to turn around and head back to her parents’ home in the WNW suburban outskirts of Houston. 
Thanks for your continued thoughts and prayers.
-nef
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Posted by nefarious @
8:56 pm | |
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Rita, you bitch!
September 21, 2005
ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!!!
Mom is no worse. She is still with us. And NOW we have to EVACUATE??? UGH!
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Posted by Jenn @
7:44 pm | |
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So sad
September 18, 2005
By the time you read this, I will be in Houston to be with my mom. I was called by her main doctor and told that this is probably the beginning of the end. I am praying the doctor is wrong. I really want her to be wrong. Please let her be wrong! But I going to be with Mom, nevertheless. My heart is breaking.
This sucks.
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Posted by Jenn @
3:24 pm | |
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Soccer Mom! Now with more Rage!
September 17, 2005
Today was the first soccer game of the season for Zarek. Bright and early this morning. I want to tell all about how well behaved I was. I want to tell you how great the game was and how we won an edge-of-your-seat game. I want to tell you how I sat and thoroughly enjoyed the game as a calm, well mannered mom.
I want to. I just can’t though.
I did not behave myself. Let me start by saying I never yell at the kids. I never throw any temper tantrums about how the kids are playing. In fact, I never have a bad thing to say about the players at all. Honestly. Because I know these kids are out there to have fun. I get that. (In fact, the parents who do yell at the kids usually end up with me in their face politely asking them to shut the hell up.)
But the coach? Oh for the love all things whistle blowing! Jenn was not a happy parent with the coach today. At this point you are probably thinking, “Oh, no! The coach must have been yelling and screaming at the kids. Uh-oh. Jenn is not fond of coaches like that.” Think again. Normally, if I am raging at a game, that is the reason. And rarely (if ever) is it directed at our coach. I adore our coach. But let’s just say, I was not so much myself yesterday. (Kind of like Linda Blair was not so much herself in The Exorcist.)
Some history so you know where I am coming from. This team has been together for 4 years. Two seasons per year. We have gone from the soccer version of the Bad News Bears to second place in the top division. Ups, downs and beer drinking at post season parties. (For the parents, silly. Not the kids.) We all know each other rather well. And our coach? He has been with us the entire time. There was one season when we first became a team that there was a bit of a coaching issue, but it was an easy fix. Since that time, we have all been in a happy state of coach/parent/player bliss. We sit and sing Kumbaya on the sidelines after every game.
But today…today was harsh. The coach decided NOT to coach. Not to raise his voice at all. Good or bad. Which means no coaching and no encouragement. Nothing. Mute. With my son in goal for the first real game. Ever.
Did I mention I have been under a lot of stress lately? Did I mention that I do not deal well with stress? That sometimes I channel it towards other things? Well, yeah…let’s just say I did that today. I know that.
I was ranting and raving and stomping and storming and cussing and fuming and pacing. Did the players know? Absolutely not. Did the coach? Not during the game. Did the parents? Oh hell yes, they did. But you see, this is why I love this team. They know me. They know I am in a constant state of WTF right now with my Mom. They understand that I needed to rage and it had very little to do with the game.
So what did they do? They laughed. Yes, you heard me right. They LAUGHED. At me! Can you believe that?? At one point I am standing with 2 of the moms I adore and was ranting about something when I looked over at one of them. You could tell she was probably about to hurt something internally from the force it was taking to hold in her laughter. Incredulously, I looked over at the other mom. Her face pretty much mirrored the look.
“Are you laughing? At me? Are you really standing there laughing at me?!” I shrieked.
“Oh, hell yes, I am!” said the first mom who then was unable to hold it back any longer. Her laughter burst forth with so much force, I think she might have spewed her spleen through her nose.
My quick and witty comeback? The one to silence them and make them quake silently in their shoes? “Well….don’t do that.” I am SO the queen of the quick comeback.
It just made them laugh harder.
Oh, how I love the other moms on this team. They get it. They know I am harmless. They know that on Monday at practice I will be sitting on the sidelines with them laughing and joining them in yet another chorus of Kumbaya. But they also knew that I needed to rant. And I did.
And I only think I made the coach wet his pants a little bit when I charged him after the game. Just a little bit.
All in all, a great start to a new season. Go team!
Ironically, (and completely not lost on the other parents), this is the shirt I was wearing:
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Posted by Jenn @
10:30 pm | |
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Don’t get your panties in a wad. Get them in the mail!
September 15, 2005
Deb emailed me and asked me for my panties. And yours. Nah, she’s not a freaky freak who wants your nasty ol’, skanky ol’ panties. She is helping to “clothe the booties left bare by Katrina.”
Operation Panty Drop is a great way to get behind a good cause. Because really, who wants to hang out in funky drawers? I certainly don’t. For that matter, I don’t want you to either. The evacuees certainly don’t want to have to and they certainly don’t want your old stained underwear, either. This is all about that new panty feeling. Come on, you know what I am talking about! You get all happy in new butt-duds, too.
Here is a snippet from the Operation Panty Drop website. Go on. Get your butt in gear and join us!
Operation Panty Drop
We have teamed up with Geeks for Hire to collect new and unused underwear for the Katrina evacuees. All sizes are needed, from kids to plus sized, from y-fronts to boxers and boxer briefs. We’ve got a PO Box set up where you can send the knickers (relatively cheap as they’re light). Our donations will be sent to Northwest Assistance Ministries in Houston.
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Posted by Jenn @
10:59 pm | |
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I am armed with Midol and can hurt you!
We all know that I have been under pressure lately. I don’t, however, go around wearing a sign that says, “CAUTION: Contents Under Pressure!” (Although, it might not be a bad idea, come to think about.) So, if you fail to notice the bloodshot eyes rimmed with dark circles or the fact that I cannot retain a thought longer than 2.5 minutes, then you may not notice I am not completely sane. I get that.
However…
Last night I went to the grocery store. Late. At night. That way, I could go alone. Gloriously alone. And it is usually not crowded late at night either. When no one else is shopping, I can wander around the store aimlessly without anyone thinking I am a crazy person stalking them. I am just a tired looking mom.
After grabbing up all of the ESSENTIAL items that I had come for, I stumbled to the ONE checkout lane that was open. After standing in line for 5 minutes (because there was only ONE checkout lane open and other people decided to come to the store during my “non-crowded time”), it was finally my turn. Except the pimple-faced checkout dude decided that “Hey, it is my break time!”
“Ma’am?” (Oh, we are so off on the wrong foot now. ‘Ma’am’ is my Mom. Not me. Don’t tell me he was just being polite. I know that. But still. This is MY rant.) “Ummm, it is like my break time, so like ummm, can you go over to like…ummm…the U-Scan checkout and like check out there?”
U-Scan?!! Oh, surely, this child must be kidding me. I might even be banned from using that damn thing, but I am not sure. Doesn’t matter. I won’t use it.
“Actually,” I begin as I squint at his nametag, “Jerome. May I call you Jerry? Good. Listen, Jerry, I have been standing in line and there is no one behind me. I am pretty sure you can handle this little basket before your break.”
“Well…ummm…you see…” begins Jerry before I interrupt him.
“Jerry, take a look in my basket. Go ahead. Look.”
He glances in the basket and then nervously back at me.
“Jerry, what do you see? Go on. This isn’t rhetorical. Tell me what you see.”
Jerry is looking a tad bit freaked out by me and is trying to nonchalantly glance around for a manager, but he answers me anyway.
“Uhhh…Midol, Ice Cream, tampons (serious blush for him), a magazine and a big bottle of wine.”
I look at him hard. “Very good, Jerry. Now tell me, does that look like the basket of a woman you should really be messing with right now.”
*blank stare*
“Tell me, Jerry, do you have a girlfriend?”
“Uhhh, no ma’am….we like…uhh…just broke up.”
“Ahhh, now see, Jerry, that might have something to do with your lack of observation skills. You see, any member of the male species who has any…ANY.. powers of observation would take one look at these things and be appropriately frightened and a tad bit wary that the woman buying them might be, how shall we say, unstable. So, Jerry, what you are going to do now is check me out and learn from this. Never, ever tell a woman who has contents such as these that you are going to take a break rather than let her buy these essential items. Items that will greatly effect her stability and mental state. Okay, Jerry?”
Then I immediately spin around to face the male manager who has been standing behind me who thought I had no idea he was there and say, “We are fine here. You may go now. Jerry is just finishing up.” I saw him nod to Jerry as he walked away.
After he scanned and bagged and I paid, I smiled a sweet (and oh-so-innocent) smile, thanked him for his help and walked away.
Poor Jerry. He just might still be standing there in fear. But, some lessons these members of the male species need to learn early. I believe I helped the poor lad to be a better man. Or at least not to fuck with a woman who needs Midol, wine and Ben & Jerry’s all in the same purchase.
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Posted by Jenn @
1:32 pm | |
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Focus on the people
September 7, 2005
I have basically avoided writing about Katrina (aside from adding a button to be able to donate to the Red Cross). Everything has been said by now. That and the fact that I am just so overwhelmed by all of the devastation. Don’t expect any political posts, government rants or finger pointing here either. The basic fact is that we failed these people. Whether you love the current president or hate him. Whether you are liberal or conservative or even communinst for that matter, the bottom line is that not enough was done to help. Not sure you feel that way? Read this amazing nurse’s account of what she and her patients had to endure then come back and tell me that we as a nation were prepared for this.
But the thing is, I am not to a place where I feel qualified or informed enough to point fingers. Maybe it is because I am in a location where I am more removed from the politics and smack in the middle of the people effected. Here is Dallas, not a day goes by where you don’t see someone who is an evacuee. Go to any WalMart in the area and ask if anyone there needs help or aid. You WILL find someone. Reunion Arena is full. They have more donations than they know what to do with. It is wonderful to see the people in this city opening up their homes, their wallets and giving their time to help.
This weekend I was in WalMart and met a woman and her husband there with their infant daughter. There she stood in the infant area trying to get what she could of diapers and formula for her baby. As she talked about losing her house and everything in it, I have never felt more helpless. I just held her hand and cried. What could I possibly say to help her? Blame someone for her horrific situation? Tell her “At least you aren’t in the Astrodome or Reunion Arena!”? I don’t think any of that would make her feel better or help her. Yes, she is one of the more fortunate (although, “fortunate” is rather relative, isn’t it) families who have not had to live in a dome or arena. She has been able to find somewhere else to stay. When you meet these families face to face, when you go to the overflowing hospitals, when you go to the arena where the homeless are living, you get angry. You hurt. You feel so many things it would be impossible to find the right words to discuss it. But for now, it is about the people.
Don’t get me wrong. I think it is vital that we find out just how and where the failure occured so that we ensure this never, ever happens again. I am just not there yet.
I am going back to Houston tonight. I am going to visit my mom still in ICU. From what I hear, the ICU is filled to capacity there with victims of the hurricane. While I am in Houston, I hope I can go volunteer at the Astrodome. Seeing the numerous evacuees here in Dallas, I cannot even begin to fathom what it will be like in Houston. But this I do know, I can help. Somehow, someway.
If you have any information about where exactly to go to volunteer there, please let me know. If anyone needs any supplies or donations taken down there, let me know. It seems like so little, but right now, it is all I can do.
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Posted by Jenn @
2:07 pm | |
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