Today was one of those days where I find myself asking...Do women ever outgrow the "girl games" they played in school?

I was in the pool talking with The Moms and watching the kids play and interact. One of The Moms had her daughter come over very upset because the friends she brought were not being nice and were trying to leave her out of their little game. She looked so hurt... I could feel it myself.

That took me back 20ish years ago to when I had to go through that crap. I vividly remember two of my best friends doing that to me when I was in junior high and was absent from school sick. When I came back, they wouldn't talk to me. They had become downright vicious. When I finally pushed and asked why, they replied, "We figured you never knew what it was like to be left out and we wanted you to know how it felt." It only got crueler and more hostile from then on. To this day I can hear those words and feel that pain. My best friend (at the time) and I went 10 years in a very icy silence. Only when we bumped into each other in college did we even pretend at a civil tone. The strange thing, even now I would love to sit down with her over drinks and just talk. I need to see the woman she is and let that little girl in me forgive that little girl that she was. That is one of those moments in my life that shaped how I react in almost all of my female friendships to this day. A part of me still gets nervous being left out of events because that young girl in me tries to convince me that when we are all together again, I will have been cut from the circle. Do wounds that cut that deep, that come even when we are young, ever heal?

For that matter, do women outgrow those games? When we become adults, do we stop playing those games or do we take it to the next level? Are women capable of being close to other women and not be vicious or two-faced or petty? Is there a magic age when suddenly the games don't matter anymore because we all know that we are in this thing together?

I wanted to reassure The Mom's daughter that it was a phase and that although it hurts, she'd get over it. I wanted to. Instead I just watched The Mom reassure her and prayed that when she endures the poison lash of a friend's words, that she has the strength enough, character enough and self-esteem enough to shake it off and move on....with minimal lasting scars.

It is a good thing I don't believe in signs or premonitions.

Take last night for instance. I dreamed I had a baby. Not just a "oh look! A cute little, new baby." We are talking about a very graphic, very detailed, you-could-teach-ob/gyns-how-to-deliver-a-baby-watching-this sort of graphic dream of giving birth. And it didn't hurt. (That's how you know it was a dream.) And I was thrilled about it. (Another clue that it was a dream!)

This morning I go to grab a video tape to watch a show I taped. (For curious minds, it was Sex and the City and yes, I am in the dark ages and have not advanced to the 21 century of Tivo....yet.) Well, the tape I started watching was not the one I used to tape my show. It was one of my daughter's sonograms 3 years ago. (For the record, I didn't get it out and still have no idea who did. Everyone denies it. It was probably my 2 year old thinking it was Dora.)

And yet, one more to slap me. I got a coupon for an EPT test in the mail complete with a booklet on prenatal care. (And no, I did not sign up for anything that would put me on that kind of mailing list.)

Good thing I don't believe in signs.

But just in case, I am going to go light a candle and pray to the goddess of birth control. We wouldn't want to piss her off and have her fail me now!

Slap a toolbelt on me and called me Barbara Villa! I am loving remodeling my bathroom! (Okay, we got past the paint color. We compromised....shhh I won.) Oh the power! The fun! The pure zen of it. I mean, I haven't had this many hours alone in YEARS. (Well, I say alone, but it isn't consecutive hours.) I am considering taking it up as a career. Do you think that is overkill? I mean, if I was doing it for someone else, at least my kids wouldn't be interrupting every ten minutes.

Oh, but they interrupt for important things.

"Mooooom! Come here! It's really important." (I rush to see what's wrong. "See the new character I got on my game today?"

"What? You said it was important."

"It is to me." (Score one for the munchkin.)

Back to the bathroom to work...for all of about 20 minutes.

"Moooooom! Telephone!" I rush to get it in the other room. "Nevermind. I took a message."

"Well who was it?"

"I dunno."

"What do you mean 'I dunno'? You said you took a message."

"Yeah, well, I couldn't understand them and they said they would just call back later when you weren't in the bathroom."

Mental note: Remind the kids to just tell people I am unavailable without more explanation.

*sigh*

So after 5 hours, I got the equivalent of about 2.5 hours done. (But it looks awesome, even if I do say so myself.)

But I can't help but be some what envious. I bet Bob Villa doesn't have to work in this kind of environment!

I have read before that money is one of the biggest reasons for couples to fight. That is wrong. It's home remodeling.

My husband and I are remodeling our guest bathroom. We both hated it. We both agreed it needed change. We both wanted it to be made-over. That is where the agreements stopped. Take for instance our trip to Home Depot that went something like this:

It started with me saying something like: "Oh, I really like this color."

His reply was something along the lines of: "I guess it is okay. But, I think I want this color."

"But we agreed I could pick the color."

"That was before you picked that color."

"Well, if you are so against this color, what are you planning on doing to make that color less putrid?"

"You really are agressive about this. Fine. You just pick the paint."

Which lead to the inevitable of me saying, "Oh whatever. Just have your damn color. You get everything the way you want it anyway. Remeber that time that you...."

We didn't get banned from Home Depot that night. We were told by our 10 year old son, however, that he never wants to go to a home improvement store with us again.

Money? Whatever. The source of all evil is Home Depot.

It's official. I've finally been pushed too far that I have gone mental.

This is how I spent at least 30 minutes today. And even though I saw it over and over, I still laughed my ass off. Then...went back for more. And I am sober.

*sigh*

I need a life.

While I was doing my drive by blog cruising, I came across this and decided to play too.

If I say.... :: you say....

1. Natalie:: Wood
   
2. Concrete:: boots (gee...could a future in the mafia be my key to happiness?)
   
3. AIDS:: sad, so sad
   
4. Rubber hose:: Up your nose
   
5. Paper clip:: Art sculpture waiting to happen
   
6. Route 66:: Road TRIP!
   
7. Summer camp:: big ass spiders
   
8. Coin purse:: so 3rd grade
   
9. Orion:: "the galaxy is on Orion's belt"
   
10. Instigate:: getting things stirred up
    

I am not so sure what that says about me. Do you think these are normal answers or should I put my shrink back on speed dial?

I mentioned mommy burnout. I really think it needs to be listed as a real condition in all medical texts with real treatment plans. It should read something like this:

MOMMY BURNOUT

Symptoms:
Frequent irritation when exposed to increased levels of whining.
Increased sensitivity to loud noises which are followed by the phrase "uh-oh"
Moderate to severe irritation when confined in small places with small people*
*May or may not be accompanied by her significant other as well
Disorientation that includes sudden dillusions such as thinking of the bathroom as her own personal haven and retreat

Many of these symptoms can be accompanied by, but not limited to:
Extended and sudden crying spells
Incoherant mumbling
Increased outbursts which may or may not be confined to the home environment
A raised level of threats to significant other usually proceeded by the phrase "if you ever touch me again and give me any more children..."

Treatment
It is recommended that the patient be isolated for an amount of time that is designated by the severity of each individual case.
In the past it has been found that spas, girls night out, massages and a chick flick with the girls has been known to lessen the severity of this disease. However, in the most severe cases, a weekend away at a nice hotel with room service was the only treatment to make the patient fit to be reintroduced to her family environment.

Cure
The only known cure is when the children move out. Which, perplexing as it is to the medical community, actually leads to the manifestation of a new disease.*
*(see Empty Nest Syndrome)

There are two things that should never be put in a house together: (a) a mom who is addicted to carbs on a low/no carb diet who is about to gnaw her own arm off with (b) three children on summer break who are bored. In fact, I am not sure that their paths should ever cross!

Perhaps starting a diet at the same time that the kids are bored combined with the fact that mommy has a serious case of "mommy burn-out" is just not a good combination. For instance, a mom should not think her 2 yr old is out to get her just because she asked for more goldfish. ("But don't you understand that goldfish would go great with a beer right now and mommy can't have either one??? Don't you you want a yummy hard boiled egg with mommy?")

Is it really necessary for that freakin ice cream truck to drive by every day? I mean, don't you have any other routes, Mr. Sugar Pusher?

Okay, so I am cranky. I admit it. I am hungry, carb deprived and tired of hearing the incessant whine of "I'm booooorrrrrrrred!"

C'mon...you know you've got some carbs in your house. How much do you want for them? Give a girl a break here!

"Ohhhh! You are so cute! I could just eat you up!"

Huh?

Since when is this a good thing to say to children? I never understood this phrase. I don't think it is a compliment. I don't think it is something that says "Adorable child". What it really says to me is "Creepy person talking to my child!" It brings up scary illusions of Hansel and Gretel and that horrible witch who wanted to throw them in an oven.

Which of course, gets me off on the tangent of songs and stories for children. Are we little abusive parents or what?

"'C'mon sweetie! We are going to sing about a farmer's wife who butchered blind mice, then we will read you a story about a witch who wants to eat you up and we will top it off with a soothing song that tells of you falling to your death from a cradle perched in a tree. Doesn't that sound like fun, darling?"

So, please, just don't tell my kids that they are so cute you want to eat them up, okay.

There are some people that just really need to be locked in a room together so they can beat the hell out of one another. They just have serious anger issues. I had the pleasure of meeting one of them today. Normally, I would lose my temper...big time. Get mad, yell and scream back and drop an f-bomb or two. But, today I was with my baby and took a different tact.

So here's what went down...

I was with the princess running errands and decided to give her a treat. So I stopped to go through a McD's drive-thru. Well, as we are leaving, a man in a pick-up truck comes out of nowhere and I just about hit him. He swerved hard to avoid me. Well, I felt bad since I didn't see him and rolled down my window to ask if he was okay and apologize for what was almost an ugly mess.

Well, this guy starts flipping me off and ripping into me. I cannot repeat what he said. Suffice it to say, I think he suggested I "had relations with the female parental unit" and that I could go "fornicate alone". In fact, he even suggested that perhaps I go to the "dark underworld" while I did this.

All of this because (and this is what gets me) he says I "should be more careful when I have a child in the car and I need to be a better mother and protect her".

(mental thought: You mean, from FREAKS like you?)

I am sure it was amusing from afar to see my reaction. My face must've been priceless. Picture this: Completely slack jawed, a totally shocked, 'oh-my-gawd-you-are-not-talking-to-ME-that-way' look on my face. So I replied...

(No, I did not reply the way you think I would)

I said (with a straight face and totally innocent, big blue eyed blank stare), "Oh my gawd! You are a horrible little man! Was it something I said?"

Oh my! That set him off again. (mental question: How many f-bombs can one person drop in a 25 word scream? I counted 11.)

Then from me. "Gee, sir, you really should look into anger management."

More about possible alternate uses for my gear shift. (mental note: ouch)

Me: "Well, I sure have enjoyed our chat, but I need to go now. The light is about to change. Have a great day, dude."

He was still telling me about various reproduction activites when I pulled away from him. Then he peeled out while showing me his manicured finger.

Had I not been so very shaken because my daughter was in the car, I might've laughed. Instead, I just wished him a broken down truck and eternal impotence for him (since he seemed so obsessed with both.) All I can say is...

How RUDE!

posted by Jenn at 7/23/2003 01:02:00 AM

There's no place like home. There's no place like home.

Okay, so I plagiarized that. It wasn't an original thought. But ahhh, the truth in those words.

I have been visiting my parents and trust me, it is good to be home. Not that I don't get along with my parents. I do. I have a great relationship with them. It is just that their house is missing several key elements that makes me a much happier person. Things such as: coffee in the morning. How can they not drink coffee in the morning? I just don't get it. What sane, normal, red-blooded human being can get jump started with out it. (If you are one of those pod-people who don't need it, don't email me. You scare me. ) Then, we have the 20 year old mattress on the 30 year old bed. If the mattress doesn't kill you in your sleep, the squeaking of the bed will at the minimum make you want to slap a nun. (If you're a nun, don't email me. You kind of scare me too, but not in that sock monkey way.) Then we have the "no salt, no fat" food. Peanut butter needs salt. That's all I'm saying.

So, as much as I love my parents and love spending time with them, it is good to be home. I slept in my quiet, king-size, pillow-top bed and woke to my "nectar of the gods" coffee in my "oh-so-perfect-don't-even-think-of-using-it" coffee cup.

Again, I say to you...

There is no place like home.

posted by Jenn at 7/22/2003 02:03:00 PM

I am thrilled. My sister is pregnant! I guess this will be the true test as to whether I am really done having children. I think I am. I am not at all jealous of the fact that she is pregnant. I am hoping for a boy, though. Why? Because my baby girl is supposed to be the only princess! Okay, I am happy either way, but I love having the only girl!

Either way...I am shocked and thrilled. She is going to see what being a mom to more than one kid means now. Good luck, sis. May the gods, fate, caffeine and Valium be on your side!

I broke down and bought a baby doll for the Diva today. It's not that I don't like baby dolls. I love having a girl that wants to play with dolls. I was never much of a girly girl growing up, so this is fun. The doll in and of itself isn't the problem. It is the doll's face. Confession time: Hard faced dolls creep me out. There I said it. They just really do freak me out. Have you really looked at most of the faces of these dolls they are passing off as a "child's toy" these days? I mean puhleez! They make the whole "Chucky" movie series seem a lot more plausible. And really, who thought it was a good idea to tell a child it is comfy to snuggle up to a hard plastic face with a pillow bottom? This is supposed to be something to snuggle? Are you trying to tell me that Mrs Beasley isn't smiling because she is going to hurt you when you sleep. Paranoid? I think not. Hard faced dolls are the true source of evil in this world!

Don't even get me started on sock monkeys! They truly scare the hell outta me!

What a bizarre day. The kiddos and I were at the pool with our friends. (Okay, let's just go ahead and state the obvious. During the summer, most of my days will consist of "today at the pool" etc. That is where I am a lot of the time. So, for arguments sake, let's pretend this is not pathetic, okay?) Anyway, the kids are playing and I am heading back to my oh-so-comfy hard plastic chair to enjoy the hot stagnant air while fighting off ants that want to feast on my ankles. When I look up, walking into the pool area is a woman I have been friends with for 10 years, but haven't seen since last summer. *jaw drop* I was so happy to see her. She is just one of the sweetest people I know. (One of those moms that I want to be when I grow up.) She brought 3 of her kids with her and I was amazed to see how they have grown. It was fabulous to be able to sit and catch up with her! She is pregnant with her 5th child. (Sidenote: she is one of those awesome women who can have 5+ children and still be an amazing mom. She is kind, patient, firm with the kids and get this...she doesn't even drink! lol She is amazing. We won't even discuss what would happen to me if I had 5 kids.) Anyway, it was wonderful to catch up with her. Kind of gave me that "ahhhh, what a great day! I feel so warm and fuzzy!" sort of feelings.

As I was enjoying that feeling you get when you have connected with an old friend, I hear this voice piercing the air like chalk on a blackboard. (Question: Is there anyone is your life that no matter what you do, they continually show up in your life. Which wouldn't be a bad thing except their very existence sets you so on edge that you resemble a cat cornered in a room of pit bulls? Someone who you see through their plastic face (both of them) but no one else does? A person who, given a choice, you would rather stick bamboo under your finger nails than hang out with? Yeah. I have one too. This is that person.) So, I hear the voice. *poof* Good friend reconnect mood vanishes. Why-the-hell-did-you-show-up-here-and-how-nice-do-I-have-to-be mood enter. Of course, I put on the "ohhhh, it is so good to seeee you" face and talked for a few minutes. Duty taken care of. Don't have to play nice anymore. Go back to my now inviting chair to enjoy the ants biting me.

I swear I began to look towards to gates of the pool waiting for my first boyfried to walk in. If it was going to happen, it would happen today. How bizarre! Two old friends. Two very different reactions. One strong drink.

Every once in a while, my own personal demons decide to circle and then one at a time, dive bomb me. I guess today is one of those days. The past just loves to come up and tap me on the shoulder and remind me that it is still there and was not left behind. Okay! I screwed up. I can't let it go. I can never escape who I really am. It is eating away at me. I have let some really good friends down lately, too. They were counting on me to get something done, and through my depression, I let it go by the wayside and it happened way later than it should've. Now, they know I am not trustworthy. It sucks. Which feeds into my feelings of worthlessness. Which causes me to pull into myself. Which makes me feel all alone. And worthless. Which in turns makes me more depressed. Thus causing the inevitable stupid slip. See what I mean?

How do you beat this? I just don't know anymore.

Faking it works sometimes. Sometimes I just want to look someone in the eye and tell them that I am in a really bad place, and I am scared and I just don't know what to do to make it better. But then, they would know. The "secret" would be out. They would know: I don't have it together. I am not really that funny. I am scared to death. And truth be told... I am pretty screwed up.

We live in a world where you are supposed to say "Fine, thank you" when someone says "How are you?" It just isn't the thing to do to shout out "Help! I'm drowning! And I don't know what the hell to do about it!" So, I put on the smile. I make them laugh. And when they say. "Hi! How are you today?" I will give them my brightest smile and say...

....Fine. Thank you.

Ten things you will never hear me say...

1. This dress just makes me look too thin!

2. No thanks, I am just not in the mood for chocolate.

3. No really, honey, I *love* being wakened from a dead sleep for this.

4. Martha Stewart sure is my hero!

5. Three kids just isn't enough. Let's have more!

6. No more coffee for me. I've already had one cup today.

7. Ohhhhh! I just love working out. I feel the burn! (that's a 2-parter. Feel free to slap me if you ever hear me say "feel the burn")

8. That mini-van is to die for!

9. "When I was your age...." (Okay, maybe I will slip on that one every now and then, but I really, really do not want to!)

10. I've had enough sleep.

I love that the first thing my baby girl wants to do in the morning is snuggle with me. How she asks for it first thing. That body to body, hold each other close snuggles. The kind where I kiss on her face and whisper how much I love her and stroke her hair as she hugs me tightly. How nothing else will start her day off right quite like our morning snuggles.

I love that my youngest son still wants to hang out with me. How when he had the opportunity to ride with a friend to our parade or ride with me, he chose me because "we laugh and have a lot of fun together." How he doesn't know that one day it just won't be cool to want to hang out with his mom. That for now, I am the one he wants to laugh with. How I am still his best friend.

I love that my oldest son still wants me close when he is not sure of things. How even as he struggles to discover who he is apart from me, he still wants to know what I think. How after a day of "I'm old enough to do it by myself", when he can't sleep that night, he wants me to lay down with him and just talk about life and things. How my being with him is still the ultimate in comfort to him.

Hmmmm, I guess maybe I am not doing so badly at this mothering thing after all.

It's nearly 1:00am when I write this. I can't sleep. I don't sleep anymore. That is not a figure of speech. I am averaging about 3 hours a night. Not good for a mom of 3 during the summertime. So why is it, late at night, when the house is quiet, that I get these amazing insights into my life, my relationships, and generally the universe as a whole. These ideas seem so awesome and enlightening when they come to me as whispers in the night. Yet, when morning comes they are like faint memories of a dream...you can almost see them, remember them, touch them, but they are too fleeting to capture. Maybe I need to start writing at night. Capture those night muses that seem to inspire my heart and make it beat just a little bit faster with that passionate idea or heart wrenching insight into my life.

Yet, here I sit. Not sleeping. Not being inspired. Not writing anything of worth or inspiration. Once I left the cocoon of my warm blanket and hot coffee, the muse vanished.

So, I supposed I will go to the one place that will always bring me back to the heart of my life....I am going to go check on my sleeping babies and snuggle up beside my cozy husband and try once again to capture that ever elusive Sand Man and beg for a midnight rendevous tonight.

I just love the 4th of July. It is the one day of the year I know that I will be able to spend it with my family and be able to "play". Yesterday we took the kids to the city parade (just down the street from us.) We met some friends up there, too. The parade itself was a bore. But, it was so fun to see the kids enjoying themselves so much. They were yelling and cheering. Gabrie had the best time just taking all of the excitement in. Afterwards, we all suited up and went to the pool. (Not the one with Scary Speedo Man, though.) After a couple of hours of swimming, we came home, showered all of that chlorine off and went to our neighbors' house for a cook-out.

Then, my favorite part of the 4th. The 5 of us, just our little family, went to the watch the city fireworks. It has become a tradition. The kids love it! We take a huge comforter and lay it out in the park. We take a cooler and a few sports balls (soccer, football etc). We all play and run and laugh and talk. It truly is my idea of a perfect family night. Even the Diva gets into the games. Then, after the sun has completely set and the darkness envelopes the park, the magic of the fireworks begins.

Watching the innocent joy and excitement on the faces of my kids absolutely melts me. Diva thought it was magical and she cheered and giggled and clapped her hands in excitement. Kidlet Jr. loved trying to guess what color would be next and celebrating each time he was right. Kidlet Sr. loved predicting which firework would have the loudest *boom*. At one point, my eyes caught Geek-Man's and the love and contentment I saw there overwhelmed me. In that instant when our eyes locked, the whole world just consisted of us and the beautiful family we have created.

Bliss.

I love this day!

I took the kids to the pool today. Nothing special about that, really. We've been doing it everyday. (Ahhhh, the bliss of being a stay at home mom in the summertime!) However, today I saw something seriously disturbing. Picture this: A middle aged man (we are being kind here. He is knocking on the door of being old.) Gray hair...everywhere. (Is that a sweater or back hair.) Hunched over shuffle swagger. Hair slicked back. Ray Ban shades. Suntan oil everywhere. And (*blech*) a Speedo at least one size too small. *shudder*

I wanted to claw my own eyes out. Yet, realizing that this image has been burned into my brain for all of eternity, I saw the futility of my self-inflicted eye gouging and just did the "Oh my lord Ididnotseethat Ididnotseethat Ididnotseethat head shake". (We've all done it. You know what I am talking about.)

Listen up men! Speedo + middle age + back hair = Fashion NO NO (as in never do!) For that matter, very few men can pull off the whole Speedo look in public and not be either icky or perverse.

And I had my daughter with me. She is only 2. I am hoping she missed this spectacle. Some horrors should just not be faced until you are old enough to drink.