But I want to PARTY!
December 17, 2004
Let me take you through the last month of my life. (Don’t worry. You’ll get the condensed version.)
Starting around my birthday last month, Brandon came home from school with a fever of about 102 degrees. It wouldn’t break for 5 days! Finally, he gets well. The day I send him back to school, the nurse calls me to let me know that Zarek is in her office with a fever. So off I go to pick him up. Luckily, he only has this fever for 2 days.
So far, I am avoiding it. I get a runny nose and feel very worn out. I have a fever, but it hasn’t beaten me. Oh sure, the fever and worn down feeling make me rather cranky, but I get used to it. Over a week with a fever, you learn to adapt.
Move forward to the first day that I am alone. All alone. Gloriously alone. I sleep. I should’ve shopped. I should’ve known. Oh for the love of procratination, I should’ve shopped, people. But no. I tried to NOT be sick. I thought that would be smart. Dumb, dumb move.
The next day Gabriella tells me she WANTS to go take a nap. SHE wants to. She hasn’t napped in over a year. I brace myself. Of course, by brace myself I mean hit the tequila. Twenty minutes into her nap she screams the scream that makes any parent’s heart beat triple time as they race into their child’s room brandishing the nearest weapon they can get their hands on in order to maim the horrible attacker that must be harming my baby girl. In my case, of course, that would be my bottle of tequila.
I cannot calm her down and she is screaming in pain. Two hours later and $120 in precriptions and doctor bills, she is home passed out diagnosed with an upper respiratory infection and two severe ear infetions. Which means she sleeps until midnight and then wants to be up to talk and play and watch every annoying child video known to man and child. Of course, anything Nick Jr based in the middle of the night is a horror. Her fever and infection keep her needy and at home for a week.
As soon as I see the light at the end of the tunnel with her health, my precious husband comes to me, Kleenex in hand, fever wracking his body and a cough that sounds like he surely will be hacking up a lung anytime. Oh for the love of penicillin, what is happening here?!
Yet, I push on. I stay up and around. The throat is fine. The cough help back. The nose a bit runny, but druggable.
Yesterday, EVERYONE was well enough to go to work and/or school. I had the entire day all to myself. ahhhhhhh Today was Brandon’s class party. I thought, Why not? I should go and help. I was in the holiday spirit. In fact, there is even an adult Christmas party that I have been eagerly anticipating for weeks. Adults. A Christmas party for adults. I don’t know if I have EVER been to an adult Christmas party without ANY children at all. It’s been circled on my calendar since my friend told me about it.
Do you see where this is going? Are you a step ahead of my story?
I got home today from the party. At some point, apparently an 18-wheeler raced itself right over my ass.
By 2:00 I have a fever of 102 degrees, a nose that won’t stop running, a throat that is on fire and an earache. Son0fABitch. It got me.
No party.
No adult interaction.
Nothing but NyQuil and my blankie.
Is it okay that I am crying like a little baby because I can’t go? I mean, literally crying like a damn baby. Forgive the whine, but I WANTED to go. And now I am sick. And frankly, this sucks.
I’m getting my blankie and my Kleenex and going to go cry in my bed now. You holiday partiers, take a shot for me. Damn germ infested family!!
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Posted by Jenn @
1:19 pm | |
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Who me? Stressed?
November 18, 2004
Why is it that no matter how much I get done, there is always so much more to do that i never feel like I am nearing an end?? I’m just asking.
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Posted by Jenn @
4:38 pm | |
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One of the (un)chosen few
October 22, 2004
This being an election year, we are subjected to the political process more than we really care to be. I used to think that backstabbing, unfair policies, outright lies and favoritism to those with the deepest pockets was something reserved for Washington DC and politicians. Until I came to know our PTA. Now remember, I was one of the insiders last year, so I know how this group works. I’ve seen the political game in action.
You see, every year our 5th graders go to camp. They look forward to it all throughout their years in elementary school. It is a BIG deal. They tell any parents who want to go that they can sign up and be put into a “random” drawing to be chosen to accompany the kids.
A “random” drawing. (Can you see the *eyeroll* from there?)
In fact, in the meeting that discussed this “random” drawing, I even asked aloud if it would truly be a “random” drawing or a designated people are going and whatever slots are left we will have a “random” drawing. They insisted that “Oh, of course it would be fair. Everyone has a shot!” That night my husband and I laughed over this. In fact, we had a wager going. I would pay him $1,000 and do anything he wanted to an entire MONTH if I was randomly chosen. Knowing that I broke up with the PTA last year, I realized that if the drawing was fair, I had a chance. However, knowing this PTA like I do, I was willing to bet my life that it wasn’t fair.
Let’s just say if this “drawing” was random, then whoever did the actually choosing of the names “randomly”, they need to get their butts to Vegas PRONTO. Because, honey, they beat all kinds of odds. I hope they play the Lotto! I hope they get on all game shows, especially that new one of PAX called “You’re Full of Crap.” They would SO excel on that one!
Maybe I am misjudging it. You tell me. This is the “random” drawing results” of the parents chosen: PTA president, PTA Vice President, PTA board member that has been on the board forever, a cop, a professional photographer and a Scout Master. In addition 2 other moms who are at the school anytime the doors are open. You know the group. The ones that get to do everything while the parents who work or have other kids get to try to pick up whatever crumbs they leave behind.
What do you think? Was it a “random” drawing?
I know it sounds as if I am bitter. I am not. (Much) I am angry. Realistically, it would have been incredibly hard for me logistically to be able to do this. But I have friends who really wanted to go but are not able to be there Every.Time. The. School. Is. Open. They never had a chance. And that makes me mad. I had to look at my son who so badly wanted me to go (before the “random” drawing) and try to prepare him for the fact that hell had a better chance of freezing over than me being selected in their “random” drawing. (Of course, I said it much nicer to him.)
The ironic thing about it all, even though my gut knew it wasn’t a “random” drawing, it was someone who was chosen to go that approached me telling me how sure he was that it wasn’t “random” and that he felt guilty that he was one of the Chosen Few. I adore this man, so I told him to blow it off and have fun. But you see, to hear it from one of the Chosen Few just proves that it is obvious to not only us, the UNchosen Few, but those who were selected to go.
I still have 2 more kids to go through this school. (Assuming that we are still here and that there hasn’t been a petition to remove The One Who Goes Against the Stepford Way of Life). You better believe I will be all up in the faces of whoever is in charge of this when it is time for my other children go. And ironically enough, because they made their choices so obvious, I am no longer alone it seeing how pathetically biased this PTA has been. They shot themselves in the foot this time (and I didn’t even have to help).
Washington DC has nothing on the PTA when it comes to dirty politics. The candidates could learn a thing or two from this group.
Bitter much? Perhaps. Deal. I am crazy, remember? 
(Question…has anyone ever been dooced out of a school for their website? Just asking.)
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Posted by Jenn @
6:06 am | |
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Sleep, sleep why have thou forsaken me?
October 14, 2004
The problem with insomnia is that suddenly your rules for proper behavior are hurled out the window only to be replaced with rules of behavior that somewhat resemble a sociopathic wack job’s etiquette. (For this entry, new moms with babies who don’t sleep, refuse to sleep and you wonder if they will ever sleep ever in their whole entire life, feel free to interchange the word insomnia with “can’t sleep because this damn baby refuses to sleep and I think I just might be going crazy.” It applies as well.)
Normal people don’t go into a Starbucks and become frantic to find the MOST caffeinated drink on the menu…and then beg for it to be “a double shot…no a triple…no, just hand over the coffee beans and I will chew them.” When you have Insomnia Insanity, you suddenly believe that the barista actually gives a damn about hearing how tired you are. That look on her face when you go on and on about how much you long to sleep, that you long for it more than the best sex you’ve ever had while eating chocolate in the Caribbean after you just won a $10 million lottery is not sympathy but rather shock and a slight bit of fear. And for the record, it is not really socially acceptable to tell the person who actually sneaks in that double shot of espresso that you love him and will name your first born after him. They usually don’t know how to respond to that.
It’s just that I am SO DAMN TIRED that I have actually lost my everlovin’ mind. I have lost track, but I think that I have gone about 10 thousand nights without sleep. Clint says it is more like a week. At least I think that is what he said. It was hard to understand him seeing as I was smothering him with a pillow for having the audacity to actually try to sleep. At night. All night. Frankly, I found that rather rude.
Oh, and another tip for you. Pharmacists don’t think it is funny when you are there to pick up your son’s asthma medicine to say things like, “You don’t happen to have any extra Ambien back there that you would like to part with, do you?” Especially if your eyes are all glazed over and blood shot from LACK OF SLEEP. No. They don’t find that kind of thing very humorous.
Finally, try not to make rude exasperating comments about that noise that is so freaking irritating and WHY DOESN’T THAT IDIOT JUST ANSWER THEIR CELL PHONE for crying out loud when in fact it is your cell phone in your own pocket. Because really, there are few things more difficult than talking your way out of that one. I’m just saying.
Now, I have things to do and coffee to tank in order to function. I am expected to function today as a responsible member of society… or something like that. In fact, I have a deadline coming up soon. I have to actually write something that would make sense to someone who has slept within the last 24 hours. I have no idea how I am going to do that seeing as my brain fuction is currently that of a retarted dung beetle.
So for the love of the sleep gods, if I don’t get some sleep soon, I cannot and will not be help accountable for my actions. Do you hear that MR. ANNOYING NEIGHBOR with the dog that never stops barking especially when you ARE ALWAYS mowing your lawn when I am trying to sneak in a nap?!
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Posted by Jenn @
7:09 am | |
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I would never shout shut up to them (where they can hear me)
September 27, 2004
So, seriously, has anyone’s head actually exploded from too much whining by children? Seriously. I am just wondering if I should call Ripley or the Guiness Book of World Records to record the moment for all of eternity because I swear by all that is not making me insane THESE KIDS ARE GOING TO MAKE MY HEAD EXPLODE! 3-2-1 KABLOOM!
I have a tolerance level when it comes to the kids. I can handle way more than the average NOT INSANE person; however, today, they are determined to watch my head spin around in circles while I start chanting something that could only come from the Unholy Book of Mother Spells to Make Her Children Shut Up! In fact, I am pretty sure I just grounded the mailman for ringing my doorbell too loudly. (Not my fault. I thought it was the bell indicated the end of round 12 between me and my children. Imagine my dismay to learn it was just the MAILMAN and not a Knight in Shining Armor coming to- no, not take me- but to sedate my children.)
To top of this Big Day of Fun, I not only get to go to a soccer practice and sweat buckets of perspiration, I also get to then follow it up with a soccer game for my other son immediately following. Oh the joys! Normally, I would not blink an eye at back to back soccer. It is what we do. But on a day where I resort to hiding in the closet for just a moment of peace, I don’t think going to a place where there are nothing but loud, unruly children is the best medicine.
Oh, and dinner? I’m not really sure when that will occur seeing as they are not to eat before a practice or a game. That leaves about 4.3 minutes to feed a family of five. I am guessing that I won’t get that accomplished. Is it wrong to feed them cereal for dinner “whenever” they can get the time? If so, keep it to yourself. If not, remind me over and over that they won’t be scarred for life for having Fruit Loops for dinner while mommy sucks down her Xanax shake while hiding in the closet. (Actually, I am just kidding about that. We are all out of Fruit Loops!)
Is it time for bed yet? For the love of all that is calm, quiet and not fighting with it’s brother, can someone please share the secret to living a calm life with THREE VERY LOUD CHILDREN??
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Posted by Jenn @
3:53 pm | |
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The One Where They Tell Me I Learned Too Much
September 4, 2004
This past week I became curious about my status at A&M since I never heard from them. Now, I totally understand that we are not moving. It doesn’t matter what they say. I am not going back there. At least, not anytime soon. But, it just felt so…unfinished. I don’t like unfinished. I don’t do well with unfinished. I need my little bows tied onto my life experiences. (Sure, you may call it closure. I call it “my little bows” on life.)
As I was sorting through the mail of the week, deciding what to toss that should’ve been tossed as soon as it was delivered, I again began to ponder what the status was. Then I saw it. Looming among the grocery store flyers and the carpet cleaning specials. The official looking letter with the return address of Texas A&M University. Suddenly, I didn’t want to know. I mean, if they told me that they wanted me and I classes were about to start, then I would be sad that I am not there. But what if…I mean what if I got a letter that said “Thanks, but no thanks you old slacker mom who has been going to school longer than most of our students have been alive!” That just wouldn’t be a joyful moment, my friends.
Dear Jennifer….blah blah blah….appreciate your interest in A&M blah blah blah…after careful consideration of all* of your coursework, it has been decided to deny your application for readmission at this time….. blah blah blah
What? WHAT?! What do you mean you are denying me? I’m a good person! I have a 3.8 GPA! People like me. Why would you deny me? *sob sob*
So I did what any emotional woman who is overreacting would do. I called them up to cry at them. After going through hoops to get to the person who was the meanie-head that put the large, red, ugly DENY on my file and going through the preliminary questions to make sure the crazy person calling them was really and truly me, our conversation went something like this:
Mean Lady at A&M: “What can I help you with today, Ma’am.”
Me: “Don’t try to play nice. Why don’t you like me? *sob sob* I’m a good person.”
Mean Lady: “Excuse me? I am sure you are a good person. What can I help you with?”
Me: “It’s just that I don’t understand why you would tell me that you don’t want me to come back to school there. Why, oh why, did you stamp that ugly red DENY word on my file? I think that was just mean! *blubbering sob*”
Mean Lady: “Well, we are not in the habit of denying admissions based on the “Just Being Mean” policy. Let me look at your file.”
Me: *sniff sniff* “Okay. But you’ll just see that I am nice and smart and have a good GPA.”
I hear her typing away. Typing stops. *long pause*
Mean Lady: “It seems that you have been to quite a few schools.”
Me: “Yes. *sniff* I am well rounded. And we’ve moved a lot. I have kids, you know. They like me.”
Mean Lady: “Yes, well. Ummmm….you have a lot of hours here.”
Me: “I am well educated.”
Mean Lady: “No. I mean you have A LOT of hours.”
Me: “Your point?”
Mean Lady: “ A LOT of hours. I am not sure I have seen this many hours for someone who has not graduated yet. I mean, you have a lot. You don’t have your degree yet? This is a lot of hours.”
Me: “OKAY. I get that you are blown away by my hours. So you can see that my education has not been limited by the confines of a rigidly set structure of classes that would keep my knowledge boxed into one particular field. And I have a good GPA. And I really am a nice person. *sniff sniff*”
Mean Lady: “But you see, you have too many hours. A lot of hours. We just wouldn’t know where to put you.”
Me: “Wouldn’t know where to put me? Try any school there. I want to graduate. I just really want to graduate before my son. He is 11, you know. He is gaining on me and I am losing precious time here.”
Mean Lady: “How can I put this? You have too many hours to be readmitted. Seriously, lady, you have enough to have two degrees by now. You should’ve graduated with all these hours.”
Me: “But don’t some of those hours fall off the list eventually. I mean, some of them are from the 80’s for goodness sakes! Nothing should be held against you from the 80’s. I am pretty sure that is a law.”
Mean Lady: “Perhaps. But not this many. No. You have too many hours.”
Me: *pause* “So let me get this straight. I have a good GPA. Higher than required. I have nothing in my transcipts that would cause you to run fleeing for the hills in fear of the disaster I could bring upon your school. The only thing you are holding against me is that I have learned too much? Am I right on that? You are offended that I have learned too much to come to your school?”
Mean Lady: “I wouldn’t put it that way, exactly. But I suppose you could say that.”
Me: “Well, I am back to thinking that’s just mean.”
Mean Lady: “You could try the school of agriculture. They may take you with that many hours.”
Me: “Agriculture? Agriculture?! What in my many hours tells you that I would want to go to the school of agriculture.”
Mean Lady: “Well, you do have a lot of hours.”
Me: “Well, I think you are mean. And you’re predjudice against people with a lot of education. You’re an Hours Snob. And I am SO going to blog you for this!”
Mean Lady: “You’re going to ‘what me’ for this?”
Me: “See! If you were as educated as I am you would know what I meant! So there.”
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Posted by Jenn @
12:48 pm | |
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Back to School Quiz Time!
August 24, 2004
Okay, people, let’s have ourselves a little back to school quiz. Come on, even you people who do not have children or whose children are too old for you to think about the back-to-school craze can play. Ready? Okay. It will be multiple choice. There may be more than one answer that is applicable. Choose the one that you feel applies the most. Pencils up!
Go!
1. You know school has started again when:
a. All of the stores are having Back To School sales on clothes
b. You suddenly couldn’t buy a number two pencil in town to save your life
c. The stores are void of anyone under the age of 18 during the day
d. The children are being pimped out by the schools to hock their wares to make the school a nifty little profit.
2. Your doorbell is suddenly ringing more and you have people at your door constantly. This is because:
a. You have suddenly become the most popular person in town due to your amazing wit
b. Rumor has it that Ed McMahon will be visiting you with your million dollar check.
c. The Jehovah’s Witnesses are recruiting again
d. The children are being pimped out by the schools to hock their wares to make the school a nifty little profit.
3. When driving around town, you notice a change. That change is:
a. Soccer moms in SUVs are racing around like Mario Andretti trying to get their kidlets to school or soccer on time.
b. The malls are now filled with Moms with Strollers and not goth teens.
c. You don’t have to play “Dodge the Child on the Bike” when driving through neighborhoods anymore
d. You see children going door to door because they are being pimped out by the schools to hock their wares to make the school a nifty little profit.
4. Your phone is ringing a lot more than normal. This is because:
a. The PTA is recruiting again and you forgot to change your phone number.
b. Your kids’ friends are just calling to say something ultra cool like, “ ‘Sup?” to each other.
c. Your credit card company wants to thank you for single handedly helping them reach their quarterly goals.
d. Some kids are too lazy to go door-to-door when they are being pimped out by the schools to hock their wares to make the schools a nifty little profit.
SCORING:
For every question that you answered anything other than D, add 2 points. (And know that you have my understanding and sympathy.) For every question that you answered D, subtract massive amounts of money from your wallet and checking account. (And know that you have my understanding and sympathy.)
Did you guess that perhaps now that school has started, so has the fundraising? Normally, I just say no and blow it off or just buy something to appease the children. (They always have prizes for those who sell the most, whether it is an individual or a class. The student who sells nothing is usually the one that meets with great scorn and ridicule by the other kids. So, I usually try not to send them back with nothing at all sold.) However, we have reached the pinnacle of fund raising: The 5th grade fundraising project that they’ve all known about since kindergarten.
You see, the 5th graders get to go to camp. All of them. During school. For a week. Out of state. The catch? They have to earn the money for the camp fees. Camp costs $210. So, they sell cookie dough. Cookie Dough. In this day and age of Atkins and Weight Watchers and healthy eating, they are hocking cookie dough. (Darn right I plan on stocking up. Why?) There is no way that I can look my little guy in the eye and tell him that I won’t let him sell what he needs to in order to go to camp with everyone else. Therefore, I do what any good mother would do. I join the cause and pimp out my child to hock wares for the school so that he can go to camp with the other kids. Who wants to bet that come next month, I will have about 50 pounds of cookie dough sitting in my freezer because I had to buy that much to push him over the top to meet his quota? It’s what we parents do.
But seriously, the first person who asks me if I am going to participate in the big Wrapping Paper Fundraiser in a couple of months will be beaten over the head repeatedly with one of those economy rolls of Santa and his Merry Elves wrapping paper.
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Posted by Jenn @
12:39 pm | |
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Copy this, doc!
August 12, 2004
I am trying to get a copy of Gabriella’s shot records from her doctor for her preschool. Usually not a problem. Sometimes there is a slight fee for photocopying the records. Whereas I think that is ridiculous, I understand it. However, her most recent doctor is trying to charge me $25 to get a copy of her shot record. (This shot record is not even one page long, people. ONE. PAGE. )
$25.
For One. Page.
Am I just a huge cheapskate or is that the biggest damn rip-off you have ever heard of? I am sure as hell going to fight this one! I could photocopy half of their patients files for $25.
*shaking my head in disbelief*
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Posted by Jenn @
5:22 pm | |
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Ha ha! Jokes on me!
July 7, 2004
This morning I sat in front of this computer for way too long trying to come up with something witty and fun for you to read. The fact is, I don’t have it in me right now. Let me explain.
Remember a few months ago when I was so sad thinking we had to move? Remember how I was so confused about it? Well, time and acceptance and trying to find the good in it for everyone else was the only way I knew how to deal with it.
Without even being aware that it was happening, I began to become excited about moving. Truly excited. Fresh start! Newness everywhere! I was finally (after more than 11 years being just a stay at home mom) I was going back to college to finally finish my degree! Scary as it was, it was finally my turn and I was becoming more excited by the day. I made plans and called friends back in College Station. I started to look at houses (and fell in love with a couple of them.) I said goodbye to friends and started to pack. In my heart, I had left. There is nothing holding me here except the house needing to sell. I no longer feel like this is home. I want to leave. I want to move…badly.
So, tell me, if you’ve read my blog long enough and know all about my Life with Murphy’s Law and the fun that Murphy likes to have at my expense, what do you think has happened?
If you said, “too bad, so sad you have to stay”, then you are right! (But you must say it in that sing song way that little kids taunt other kids with just to twist that knife as it goes in.)
A few months ago, I would be thrilled. I mean, we got what we thought we wanted for 2 years…a job and the ability to stay. But here I sit, so sad, depressed, angry and withdrawn. My gut is screaming that this is not the right choice. There is absolutely no part of me that is happy with this or comfortable with this. (Wait, I take that back. I am happy for him that he has a job. I know that it helps him feel better. I am glad that he has validation now. So, for him I am happy.)
So anyway, to make a long story longer, I am sitting here in a total depression with barely the will to get out of bed. I start crying whenever I think about things. So pretty much I am worthless at the moment, especially if you are coming here for humor.
If I am not around for a while, you will know why. Right now, I just don’t care about much of anything and surely don’t want to dump all of this depression on you good folks. That certainly isn’t fair or right. Anyway, the emails were nice wondering if I am okay and what was going on. Now you know what’s going on. Bummer, huh!
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Posted by Jenn @
12:12 pm | |
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Press pound if you want to scream
June 21, 2004
Has anyone else noticed that when you call utility companies you get transferred to an automated voice system? I know that maybe I’m an old fashioned type of gal, but honestly, I kind of want to talk to a person when I call someone for service. I know in this day and age, it is supposedly easier to talk to the automated, but to me its just downright frustrating. I am ready to scream because I don’t care to talk to the motorized voice.
So my question is, am I the only one who feels this way? Or is this a common feeling for all?
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1:43 pm | |
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