A Mommy Blog About Raising Men, Not Boys.

Monday, March 31, 2008

What About Breakfast at Tiffany's?

It's weird how girls work. We make up these things in our heads, as though they matter. We define things, actions, words, and place meaning on them that they may or may not have.
We build whole worlds around concepts or ideas.

Take for instance, I LOVE LUCY.

I LOVE LUCY is possibly my favorite TV show of all time. I laugh aloud at every episode. I snort and giggle. I LOVE LUCY,to me, is watching TV at my grandma's where she had floor to ceiling windows with drapes AND sheers, the wind blowing through the sheers as we watched the reruns together. It's the smell of my grandpa's pipe, and the shine on her the cherry wood trim in her living room. Yeah, the wood trim was CHERRY. It was lovely.
I think the show is still funny, and the humor is timeless although obviously some of the settings are quite dated. Shit, Dharma and Greg was wildly popular and that crap wasn't half as well written.

My husband has always acknowledged my love of the show and will put it on for me when it's on. We don't watch a lot of TV together, with our bajillion children, so you know, watching anything together - especially something that warms my heart, is special to me.

He bought me a boxed set of episodes this Christmas even.

So you can sort of see that I've got a big of a mythology built up in my mind around this show. A family-centric love fest in which we all embrace I LOVE LUCY as a worthy piece of entertainment, no less.

Which leads me to the moment this weekend when my husband informed me he didn't like I LOVE LUCY. He just watches it for me.

Is there anything wrong with that? No. Is he a bad guy for that?

No. In fact he is a good guy for it. He watches a show he doesn't really even like, because it makes me so happy. He tolerates something he thinks isn't good entertainment - because it makes me so happy.

This post is, perhaps, the other side of the difference between men and women. Because just as we girls didn't understand my friend and the table pooper.........The Husband didn't understand that not liking I LOVE LUCY was going reduce me to tears.

Because boys think with their dicks but girls think with some part of their hearts that we can't tell you exists until you accidentally step on it.

And then we cry about it.

Pity my husband, please. He lives with a crazy woman.

And pity your husband. He lives with one, too.

Saturday, March 29, 2008

Sometimes, I Think It's a Shame When I Get Feeling Better When I'm Feeling No Pain

Well, we had a long jacked up day yesterday. We drug out asses out of bed at about 6am (which is like kryptonite in this household - I personally burst into flame if the alarm goes off BEFORE 6am I assure you.)
We drug the tiny humans out of bed to take them to the medical center doing the husband's tests for today. Lil Satchmo inquired, rather disgustedly I might add, WHY were we getting out of bed while it was still night.
He was certain we had made some sort of mistake, silly adults.
The office doing the procedure both last time and this has a policy that if you are with someone getting tests, you cannot leave the office. We cured them of this pretty soundly last time as the brute squad terrorized their office for the two hours that they were there. One twin banging on the receptionist glass and yelling "HEY!" while I try to keep the other one from eating a tack he found on the ground, and other assorted shenanigans which involved yelling, crying etc.
Funny - for yesterday's procedures they let me leave the office with them and walk around.
The results?
Well, we don't have official results yet.
I've seen the photos of all the inside of my hunny from one end to the other. Everything LOOKS all healthy and textbook good. They'll give him biopsy results in about a week. But the meat and potatoes of this issue have not been tackled.

Which are the lymph nodes.

Next stop.


I anticipate a lot of beer consumption in our future.

Thursday, March 27, 2008

She Said "Tell Me, Are you a Christian, Child?" I said," Ma'am I am Tonight."

More tests tomorrow for the husband.
There have been whole hours that passed when I didn't think about it, didn't feel the oppressive stress of the unknown weighing me down. Times that went by when I giggled with co-workers about the guy we call Tardy McTardypants (can you guess his work ethic flaw?). When I laughed about the customer who inquired as to a product to help pack her fudge.
And then, the stress overwhlems. I see a customer whose name is the same as my mom and I start sobbing. Co-workers think I'm losing it. Those who sit closest to me know the deal. They are roped into being my friends regardless of how they feel about me simply by a seating chart's design.
I have accepted offers of prayers with grace that I am unaccustomed to. I appreciate the idea, I wish it would work. Make everything better. But the cynical part of my heart believes that if everything is ok then this is just the way the universe is. And if everything is not okay, then this is ALSO the way the universe is, with no malice or mal-intent.
The stress creeps over me, and I start sobbing when we're talking about the little girl who gotten eaten at Gator World a billion years ago. Literally, uncontrollably sobbing. This story had elicited a "oh shit" from me when it happened. But the stress of the world, the sadness of all that is going on, is making me cry.
Possibly because I'm afraid to cry for myself.
So I'm crying about Steve Irwin and little girls getting eaten by alligators, and people with my mom's name.

Or, maybe I'm afraid to cry for him. Because let's face it.

I'm not the one who is sick.

Tuesday, March 25, 2008

The Difference Between Men and Women

My husband has long told me that the major difference between men and women, in all aspects of life is sex. We're just different. And it influences everything we do. Men are programmed to run around dumping seed every place that they can. And we women are programmed to weed out the scrubs, to look for the best possible reproductive partner.
In short, we are in charge of natural selection based on the decisions we make. We can weed out that third eye gene, simply by refusing to reproduce with you.

This conversation put me in mind of a conversation that was had around the lunch table many years ago. There was this fellow, who was amiable and well liked by the small legion of ladies who lunched with him every day. He'd tell us tales of his dates, and we'd lament that he didn't have a nice girl to settle down with, the RIGHT girl. Various of the lunch compatriots set him up from time to time, but mostly to no avail. He hadn't met the right girl.

But the point of this story is not how we finally found him the right girl.

The point of this story is that despite sitting at lunch with him for years, we didn't really understand him as a man.

It was illustrated best, by this story he told one day about a date he had.

He goes out on this date with this girl he'd been trying to get to go out with him for weeks. She's super hot and he REALLY wanted to date her. Finally she agreed and he takes her out to dinner, and little dancing. Really rolled out the carpet - put his best foot forward. Afterward they go back to her place and romance leads to making out, and it starts to get hot and heavy on the couch.
She says to him "Slide under that glass coffee table, I want to show you something." So he obliges, and she strips. (The girls at the lunch table are slightly horrified yet interested in this story by this point.)
She does a little dance, and little naked wiggle on top of the glass. Then, she straddles it and takes a DUMP on the glass. Over his face.
Yeah, you heard me.

The ladies at the lunch table shriek in horror upon hearing this. Disgust races around the table and a chorus of "OH MY GOD!" and "DISGUSTING" and "THAT IS FOUL" rang out. Followed shortly by "Did you LEAVE???"

To which he answered,"Well yeah, after I fucked her."

And THAT ladies and gentlemen, is the fundamental difference between men and women.

Class dismissed.

Sunday, March 23, 2008

Eggs for Breakfast, Both Robin's and Cadbury

Seriously, isn't that the RIGHT way to start your day?

Despite the fact that Lil Satchmo was only coordinated and not MATCHING his brothers as he desired, I thought that we made a cute little family on our family outing yesterday.

It's rather the the equivalent of dressing up for church, isn't it? Family outing in front of all these people we don't know. But look how well coordinated we are. We must have a GOOD mommy.


I'm sure of that this message was conveyed. We took a lovely family photo even as Baby Birth of Cool SHRIEKED like he was being taken to meet HITLER at the sight of the bunny. Oh, and Baby Birdman was also trying to wriggle away.

Why does it matter so much? This judgment that I am pre-emptively avoiding by making sure my kids look right. I'm setting the stage for Air Jordans and clothes from Abercrombie and Fitch down the road, I think. (Except that I will never, EVER patronize Abercrombie and Fitch because of their abhorrent employment practices-don't get me started.).

Part me says, "You know what? This crap shouldn't matter. Why can't they just go to stuff like this in something clean and random?".
And part of me says,

** Postscript
The Park Where we had the Easter Egg Hunt, featured a KITE-EATING TREE! Quick, WARN CHARLIE BROWN! It had consumed TWO while we were there!

Saturday, March 22, 2008


This conversation took place this morning when getting ready for the Twins Club Easter egg hunt, when Lil Satchmo realized his outfit only coordinated with his brothers, but did not MATCH.
Him: Why don't I match? I was wanting one of THESE shirts!
Me: Sweetie your brothers match because they are twins, you are wearing an outfit that coordinates, it goes with them but is not exactly the same.
Him: WHY NOT! I want to match too! I like those shirts.
Me: Because when you all THREE match people ask us all day if you are triplets, and you are not, so I only have the twins match now.
Him: We are TOO triplets.
Me: No, triplets is when you have three babies at one time.
Him: You HAVE three babies at one time. There are THREE OF US Mom!
Me: (sighing) No it's when you give BIRTH to three babies at one time. You came by yourself, your brothers came at the same time.
Him: You mean when we came out of your vagina?
Me: Yes. Only you came out.
Him: Where were my brothers?
Me: They were not in my tummy yet.
Him: Why not? Why couldn't THEY come out at the same time?
Me: Sweetie you know why. They weren't inside me yet to be born. They came later, and together, so they are twins.
Him: But you could have put us all in your vagina together. That way we could've all worn the same shirt today.


Clearly I wasn't thinking about your need to wear a matching shirt when I conceived you.

Friday, March 21, 2008

I Ken Lee Without Him

First Test Done. More Tests To Come. At this point, no news = No News.
I'd just like it to be known, that I Ken Lee without him.

The Gathering Storm

We sent the husband for a CT scan because of his hernias last week. He's had these hernias, causing him severe - sometimes debilitating abdominal pain for probably two years. Or more. Our doctor in Tampa said "oh you've got hernias, you're too fat we can't do surgery until you lose weight blah blah blah." They prescribed pain killers which he couldn't really take AND care for the children so were then useless.

Instead of hernias, they came back with concerns of "shotty retroperitoneal lymphadenopathy" and some other concerns.

Not much to say about hernias.

So we go now to check for cancer. Types of cancer. To see what is the problem inside the father of my children, what is causing him so much pain.

And I worry like I have never, ever in my life worried about anything. The "what ifs" spin out of control in my mind. I want to scream and hit. Mostly our previously doctor. And Fate. I'm thinking about my children and I'm thinking about my husband and what HE is going through.

Insert panic and fear here.
I'm not sure what to actually SAY about this.

There could be "ok" news, do X Y Z and he'll be "ok". There could be terrible, unimaginable news. I don't know how to bridge the gap of possibilities we are facing. Or how to articulate them.

When is the adult who is going to take care of us going to show up? We surely can't be grown up enough to be in the place, can we?

The picture above is an actual shot of the tornado tearing through downtown Atlanta.
Cool eh?

Wish us luck.

Sunday, March 16, 2008

Mama Told Me There'd Be Days Like These

So I suppose after a day like yesterday, with all the damn tornadoes and cloud rotation and really really cool doppler radar I should've known it would happen.

At one point, I was standing outside - watch two groups of clouds meet and then swirl thinking NO NO NO NO NO and the husband pokes his head out and says "Hey they just said we've got rotation right here." and I said "Yeah it's right there."

It looked like this.

Anyway, I guess I should've known, after all those hours of watching the local radar and weathermen who were SALIVATING at their own personal weather drama, that at 5am I'd hear a little voice "MOM!"
The Husband went to comfort, but as always when he's scared, he wants Mom. (Personally I'd rather had Dad because he's big and tough but whatever.)
I went and tried to comfort but he was scared of something nameless, something that simply required he not be away from me. So we picked up his sleeping bag, his Thomas blanket, his Thomas QUILT made by Grandma and all his guys (doggy dog, Jamil Cesar the cabbage patch doll and Sophie the baby doll) and made him a spot right beside my bed.

But, based on his artwork this morning, I think I know the name of his fear.

It's hard to be five.

Saturday, March 15, 2008

By The Pricking of My Thumbs Something Wicked This Way Comes

Batten down the Hatches Mateys.



I'll be in the bathtub.

I cannot believe we are getting MORE of this.

See you soon.

(Anyone notice I'm sort of a Roman Stygian Pirate?)

Stupid Mother Nature

It's tough enough moving from one climate to another. But if you have a five year old who has a terror of bad storms BECAUSE of his first 4 years of hurricane HELL and you move to a place with frequenent tornadoes -you tell him all the truisms about tornadoes you know. They are probably the ones MY mother told me when I was little, but I have no memory of being afraid of them. One of that he has latched onto is that tornadoes "like" flat land. We try to explain that no, they just do BETTER on big flat stretches because they can build up power. Tornadoes don't like or dislike anything, it's just a matter of what works BEST for the storm system etc.
Anyway, last night, the sky was ugly - despite it being night, I just had to walk out onto the balcony and watch the sky for a while.
There was some fierce lightning, and I came in and brough up ye old radar. I commented to the husband "Man, the birds outside in the forest are going CRAZY something is coming."
And they were, the chirping that was going on was bizarre, primal, warning calls. I've never heard anything like it.
So according to Weather.com - Atlanta was one big red blob.
But no warnings other than the big red blob warning.

Son of a BITCH wouldn't you know it - TORNADOES were ripping through Atlanta when I went outside? I'm not right IN town of course.
So the first words out of my mouth when I sit down at the pc this morning are that there was a tornado downtown.....now he never wants to go downtown again.


I HAD to say it, didn't I? Because I never know when to shut up. And I always underestimate the power of my words.


In other happier news.......TAKE THIS SURVEY!


Friday, March 14, 2008

Human Being and Fish

I wasn't aware that poor people weren't necessarily killers either.
This is a very informative video.

Thursday, March 13, 2008

I Don't Need No Stinkin' Neti Pot

Some people use the Neti-Pot.

Personally, I find that if you sneeze and cough, while swallowing a bite of chicken noodle soup, it shoots salty broth right up your nose, nice as you please.

Of course, the noodles flying into your sinuses are kind of a drag. I can't wait to sneeze them out later and freak out people at work.

Wednesday, March 12, 2008

A PSA Regarding Your Time in Sorority or Fraternity

Just a little note to all you Greeks out there entering the job market this spring.

Your experience in any Panhellenic organization does not count as valid job experience.

Counseling brothers and sisters with their grades or through "pass the candle" events is not a valid management skill.


I'm just here to help you, as a former member of Pan-Hel myself, I want you to know that when you turn in a resume and try to dress up your Greek experience as actual JOB experience, well, it cracks me up.

And then I don't hire you.

I realize that doing all that float building and event planning and dealing with people SEEMS like work.

But it's not. I promise you.

So let me tell you what to do.

Say you have NO experience, and list your Greek affiliation as a club or activity on your resume. Maybe you will get lucky and it'll be a Brother or a Sister sitting across from you. And they will respect your honesty, and give you a break.

Otherwise, we'll say thanks for coming in, Human Resources will be touch.

This PSA presented with Panhellenic love, from an ASA.

Sunday, March 09, 2008

SW2K - I Had To Share

So many people out there bang on Disney for being jerks, for it being a rotten bullshit money grubbing empire. They are wrong.

Read this story.

Long Live The Empire of the Mouse.

Friday, March 07, 2008

My Kids Do a Christian Rock Album Cover

At least, I think this conforms to the Eric Cartman Rules for Christian Rock Album Covers.


I'm just goofing. This is us at Fort Yargo state park. But we were cracking up when we saw the picture.

Thursday, March 06, 2008

Look Through My Window

My good friend Eileen is scheduled for surgery next week.
It's sort of weird to say that.
We haven't seen each other since her wedding day a million years ago - maybe once after. Our lives just sort of went off in their own directions, but I still consider her my good friend. Intermittent conversation, short-hand at catching up and keeping up. This is how we've been for more than 10 years.
But still, she's my good friend. I'd let her live on my couch and I'm fairly sure if I showed up at her house, she'd let me live on hers.

I was thinking, when I got the brief note from her today talking about some of her projects plus the "oh I'm having surgery on Day X", about one of my sharpest memories of her and I together.

We were both on the Speech Team in High School (YEAH WE WERE SMART GIRLS LEAVE ME ALONE - WE WERE ALSO TOTALLY CUTE DAMMIT!). One Saturday morning I didn't wake up in time so the notorious Speech Bus came screeching over TO MY HOUSE to pick me up. Because God knows that the world might've not survived if it missed our Dramatic Duo presentation of Lysistrata.

Regardless, I pulled on some neon socks, loafers, jeans and a lovely neon shirt to match (these things all looked great in 1984 I assure you) - and went running out the door to get on the bus.

I plopped down on the seat next to her, and she raised one eyebrow at me. "You look like SHIT! Let me fix your makeup."

So I leaned back against the back of the seat in front of me, while she painted me up. Powder, eye makeup, blush, lips, the works. Then she pulled out her butane powered curling iron and fixed my hair.

When we were done, I opened my eyes (I might've dozed off during this process, I'm not sure either way.) There were several sets of male eyes watching us, fascinated.

The first boy says."That was the most amazing demonstration of trust I have ever seen between two girls."

The second said."I just thought it was hot."

I think they might both have been right.

Monday, March 03, 2008

The One Where I Can't Go to The Dentist

So I put off a bunch of dental work after I got the Magical Root Canals from Dr Zaritsky in Tampa, and then I was unemployed and then my insurance took forever to kick in and well, you know, stuff happens.

So, I find out that you have to sign up for a dentist, and then wait until the NEXT MONTH when you appear on the Insurance Company's Roster with the Dental Office before they will make you an appointment.

Ok, no problem.

So I make myself and the Husband appointments at a Dental Office I shall refer to as FUCKTARDS-R-US.

They confirm we ARE indeed on the roster and set up the appointments without a problem.

But then, they day before, Dental Assistant/Office Manager from FUCKTARDS-R-US calls the Husband at home and says "We're cancelling your appointment because you are not on the roster." And he says "No, we are my wife checked." and the rudeass proceeds to tell him off and say that she is IS cancelling our appointment.

So then I take time out of my work day to call these idiots, speak to a less FUCKTARDISH office manager who says "oh gee we're sorry, yeah you ARE, yeah you can have your appointment tomorrow."

And I say CHUCK U FARLEY and tell them no way I'd ever do business with them so suck-it or some other eloquent thing.

I pick another Dentist.

And wait the month for us to get on THEIR roster.

And wait the month for them to get us in.

Then the husband goes to the dentist and LOVES the guy. Loves the office.

Two days later it rains or some shit and SNOW is threatened and they cancel my appointment.

Then something else retarded happens, like, more snow or it rains or the wind blows or the Falcons suck too much or SOMETHING.....and they cancel and have to move my appointment.


We find out that the dentist now has CANCER is retiring and there will be a new dentist in that office. So we wait for that dentist office to get their insurance set up.

And wait.

And wait.


So I pick another dentist. Wish me luck.