July 30, 2011

Monsoons, Boy Bands, and Bruises

Mrs. K., Me & J-Dawg
First I must say, my girl’s night out ranks in the top ten best nights of my life! There was drunkenness, injury, slight law breaking {unknowingly}, laughter and nostalgia.

 This was one of those full circle moments in my life. Here's a little back-story for you. These two girls pictured here, I love them. They are pretty much my sisters. Our parents are best friends, so we've know each other since our Mom's were drinking and smoking with us in utero {maybe that's true, pretty sure it is}. It would explain a lot. So "Mrs. K." on my right, your left, or Blondie...was my very BFF and pen-pal for years! She lived in the dairy country, and I lived in the Deep South, but we were tight.   We also got to see each other a few times a year...and, and, and, were mildly to alarmingly obsessed with the boy band, New Kids on the Block. And 20something years ago, we attended an NKOTB concert together. And once again a few weekends ago. Mrs. K. being the glorious pack rat she is, pulled all her old NKOTB posters out from the attic and decorated her house top to bottom.  Love.  Her hubs also chose to stay at a hotel that night.  Wonder why?  Probably for the best he didn't see our shenanigans.  I couldn't dream of going to a throwback concert with any other ladies, but these. And here's the best part, now 20 something years later, we all live within miles of each other. Soul sisters. Oh, and we're not the only crazy ones, that place was SOLD OUT, mind you.

This night of nostalgia had been building for months! Oh, the plans we had, then didn't. Like the replica posters we were going to reproduce to look exactly like the ones from 1980-something with 5 gallons of glitter. Squashed, by monsoon. Of course, it was not just raining for the entire day, it was pouring! And we had to do some walking; an umbrella wasn't going to keep you dry from the side pour. We re-organized our energies in how to be-dazzle rain boots. And then there were the inevitable wardrobe re-vamps. Sundress+strappy sandal+ monsoon=disaster. Jeans and tank top it was but not without these beauties....
Orange leggings, Debbie, I heart you.  My vintage sequined pumps circa 1990's prom,
which you couldn't entirely see unless I tight-rolled my jeans, 80's style. 
I pulled them out special for such an occasion, never again.  Blisters, whoa, I went shoe-less
during concert and walked home barefoot.  Yes, I know, let's move on shall we?

I don't think anyone will ever take me seriously on this blog ever again, but you only live once people...have some fun!  We were also going to be-dazzle and puffy paint some matching t-shirts, but life gets in the way, and that just didn't happen. The recon plans to stalk NKOTB's precise location and hunt them down post party...wait, uh, no. Besides if we were any kind of good stalkers we would have known they were signing autographs at Best Buy that day. Stalker. Fail. What were we doing at 2 o'clock in the afternoon before a 7pm show? Well, let's just say we had the music too loud, were eating a delicious spread of food, and having some celebratory cocktails.

Let me expand on the cocktail portion for a moment. I am a cheap date. Two drinks are about all can handle without going buck wild or passing out. I'm pretty sure the last time I drank like this, there was a child conceived.  I do not know how I survived this day. There was champagne, oh way too much of that!

Sidebar: I forgot to mention that Mrs. K. is the Martha to my Stewart. I can't very well deny her homemade delicious libations of peach and pomegranate, ginger and cinnamon. Of course she makes all these cocktails additives from scratch! Like the homemade Sangria, that probably put me over the edge. Was either that, or the freshly squeezed lemon drop shot. We don't play around people. We're fancy and stuff. We share a love of food, baking, cooking and trying new things, and maybe dissecting recipes. We are currently in a fierce rock, paper, scissors battle to see who will quit their full-time job and go undercover at the local bakery to steal the Passion Fruit Torte recipe. How can something be so good without chocolate? But we know we'd need an immediate membership to Jenny Craig upon employment.

Now on the topic of food, I deviate again. On the gourmet food spread, I had my first encounter with Raspberry cheese. I am going to commit to doing an entire post on this, and my addiction to black cardigans; seriously, someone cut me off. No joke.

There were four of us girls total. The pic below is of my sweet friend Debbie Gibson, for real, she is spot on, and a riot! So we all channeled our inner 80's a little bit. The fish net 80's gloves in fluorescent colors, the beads, the high hair, the shoes, the leggings. I had totally planned to rock a funktified side ponytail and use a CRIMPER! Oh, the awesome-ness leaves me breathless. However, considering the monsoon-ish conditions and that my hair can only be described as "Whack" in 80's speak, humidity would've ruined it as soon as a stepped out the door. It was just best that I tied that junk up so the people behind me at the arena could see over me and my rock band hair. There is always next time, but boo-hoo.

Me & Debbie Gibson, alarming that I barely remember
this train ride to the concert.

Before Bieber.  Before Justin.
There was Joe.

Look at this sad sight above.  Note, this pose wasn't my idea, I don't think, I can't recall, but you might notice a drinky-poo in my hand.  Just sayin', don't judge.  The girls reminded me that I out of the group was the "single girl".  Imagine that, and like I need reminding.  However, I then reminded them, before they went on the prowl for any eligible bachelors, that this concert was probably not the place to meet Mr. Right, or even Mr. Straight for that matter.  And I was in no condition to be meeting my future ex-husband, let alone be talking, period.

But I did meet some new friends.  {Oh my gosh, this post is long}  The girls in front of us at the concert were AWESOME.  I loved them immediately!  One of my favorite moments, that I can remember, was when one of the girls turned around in front of me, grabbed my hand, and yelled, "he's looking right at me!"  Totally.  Super-bolistic and stuff.  I said that very thing when I was twelve.  And I'm pretty sure he was looking at me, and she was mistaken; but I let it slide as I didn't feel it was an appropriate time for a throw down.

It's funny how the dimming of the arena lights and some fancy stage fireworks can switch you from slightly toasted drunk mother of two, to twelve year old girl in an instant.  Sing?  Yes.  Dance?  Of course.  Scream like a teeny-bopper?  Naturally.  Moments of my youth raced back to me, memories of that concert 23 years ago with the same friend who stood beside me washed over me.  We remembered every word to every song like it was yesterday. We were Hangin' Tough.

After the concert the concert Gods smiled down on our drunk asses.  We somehow escaped via the elevator and caught the first train out of dodge...on a weekend schedule!  This is miraculous, especially since the Twins game had just let out across the street.  Although, in our haste to board the closing doors of the train, we forgot to buy a ticket.  Guilt stricken we were.  I'll buy two next time.  We're rebels see. 

The bruises, well we all had them on our knees and shins from bumping into the seats in front of us.  What can I say?  We had to get our groove on.

Thanks  Mrs. K., J-Dawg, and Debbie for an unforgettable night.  "I'll be lovin' you forever"....until Boston.

Better with age?  Why yes.

July 28, 2011

Ultimate Power, Mind-control and 'Cuz I Said So

Going to be straight with you friends.  I. am. terrified.  Today, I am doing my very first guest post!  Right?  I know.  Now, do me a big 'ol favor and click over there for any of the reasons below....{I will be comment counting and holding grudges for those of you who don't follow direction.}

1.  To find out who is crazy enough to allow me to post my crap on their blog. Here.

2.  To find out what in Pete's name I wrote about, and if I will reveal some life-long secret?  CLICK.

3.  Because I said so. 

4.  Do it, do it, now.

5.  I told you go

 I am counting to three!  The Caffeinated Autism Mom and I are hanging out today.

July 26, 2011

Whatchoo Talkin' 'Bout Willis?

Hella Crossroads
I'm back. I had a small break and found some clarity  Plus, circumstances are such that I need to be blogging right now, I'll call them divine intervention and leave it at that. Are you dying to know why I was gone? Well, I probably won't tell you, and here's why....


I meet my friend {F:} at the park, our kids scamper off to play.

F: I read your blog.

Me: Oh, you read my blog, you're so sweet. Blah, blah, blah, yada, yada, blog, blog, me, me, etc.

F: Shut up. Seriously, tell me what's going on?

Me: I'm just feeling overwhelmed I guess. I have a lot of decisions to make and things aren't going exactly the way I had planned, but what's new, right?

F: Like what things?
Me: Oh, it'll be fine, everything will work out I'm sure. So, how's the bambino?
 F: Cari, you are so aloof!
Me: What did you just call me?
{I might have momentarily made fun of her for using the word aloof, and deflecting the comment far, far away from me...aloof-like.}
Time ticked away at the playground, and in between, "Mom, watch me" and the "oh my gosh where did he go?" statements here and there; my friend called me out.
When it comes to friends, I am as caring and loyal as they come; I've got your back and such, and I'm pretty darn supportive too. She obviously knows this, and knows I love her dearly. She also knows I am always open to differing opinions, and am not too proud to admit when I'm wrong. She also knows I'm not violent and wouldn't hit a pregnant lady, using this to her advantage I'd say.  Did I mention she's also very sass-tastic? Perhaps this is why we get along so well.
F: I love you, but you are kind of emotionally detached.
I can seriously do this face, Arnold and I both
have the chubby cheek curse.

Me:  How am I emotionally detached? I am a weepy bawl bag 50% of the time! Hallmark card...cry. Jane Austen...cry. Old people's WWII stories...cry. On time for work...cry. Injustice, good music, peace and love...CRY! And don't get me started on that movie Rudy, seriously, I'm about to start crying right. now. Alright, continue, make it quick, I'm tearing up and stuff.
F: I don't mean you're not emotional; just that you are obviously uncomfortable discussing how you feel. And you're hard to read, just sayin'.  Blah, blah, blabbety, blah, oh I'm soo pretty, blah, blah, I can eat anything I want, blah, blah, my husband is the greatest, blah, blurp, check out my cute baby bump, BLAH.
{Something about a "wall" was mentioned, I've heard this term somewhere before. Perhaps my Therapist debriefed her and they are in cahoots! So much for client confidentiality...traitor.}
Me: Crap.
She is right and I know this. It is one of my biggest challenges to open up about how I feel when I'd rather just keep it to myself and figure it all out. I tend to take the emotional "stuff" out of my decision making process, which can be good and bad.
Does this mean I'm going to have to do a little more emotional blogging? Maybe, if I can convince myself. This friends is a hard pill to swallow. I'm super touchy-feely, and tell pretty much everyone I love them; "Hi, nice to meet you, and by the way, I love you." Does this count for nothing?
A hard lesson learned, and still learning, as a single Mom, is to ask for help when I need it. And not necessarily that I even need any help right now, per se, {hush all of you, mental does not apply} but maybe I just need to unload the stress. How long can I, or any of us for that matter, flounce around like we have it all under control, but really, we're just barely hanging on? Sometimes it just feels good to say things like this...
Autism exhausts me.  I want to seriously light a bonfire and burn the paperwork.
I am still a little resentful that I am even divorced, because this is NOT what I had planned.
Am I making the right decision?  And repeat.  And repeat.
Then there are those entire two steps forward, one step back moments that can take a flying leap as far as I'm concerned.
Finally, dear Lord, how much longer do you have to teach me patience and perseverance; I get it, I promise, really I do.
I discovered a few things at the park that day:
1. This is why I struggle to write about Autism, it makes me very uncomfortable.
2. I'd prefer to stay emotionally detached than feel like I'm complaining, because I don't have it that bad, and I don't want you to feel sorry for me; I'm just venting.
3. I should probably pay my friend for this little Therapy session, or she should go back to school and make this whole psychological genius thing legit, or she could just take over Dr. Phil's show and kick his bald ass to the curb.

July 22, 2011

See ya when I see ya...

Okay, so I've deleted and re-written this opening twelve times now and I'm not going to sugar coat it.  Sometimes life just hands you a pile of crap, and leaves you to clean it all up.  So I need to do a little bit of sorting, make some decisions, and do a whole lot of praying.

I'm going to take a little blog-cation.  Maybe a week or so, until I can get some things under control and re-prioritize a bit; probably more paperwork involved than I'd like as well.  Hooray.  No. I am not going to rehab, just to squelch any rumors.  I am also not in jail, the Feds have not found me, nor have I eloped.  {Oh, I'm really cracking myself up now.}

I will miss you.  But I just don't want to post anything mediocre just for the sake of posting...okay, that's laughable, mediocre is as good as it gets around this blog!  Bless your hearts for reading.

See you all soon!


July 20, 2011


I have a serious crow situation in my backyard, aka, wooded nature preserve, aka, crow holler. They are "cawing" early morning, morning,  noon, evening.  When I say early, its 5 a.m. people; I don't get up that early unless there is a good reason for it.  Let it be known, I am not a morning person. It takes me a good half hour to fully adjust after my alarm goes off at 6. I'm also a very light sleeper. These crows are robbing me of an hour of sleep! This makes me consider a trip to the 24 hour Wal-Mart to buy a rifle.

Last year, we were dive bombed by a Red-Tailed Hawk every time we went outside. I thought my children would be carried away, or at least lose a limb. These birds are taking over!

Bird wars. Crow gangs. Single Mom vs. Crows. Crowmageddon.

They must be reproducing at an alarming rate. It gets worse as the days go on.  As I was writing this post, I decided this would be a perfect opportunity to video the "crow song" for all you dear readers, so you could see that I am not exaggerating {this time}. Might I add that it was also sweltering outside {112 degree heat index}.

The Drama Queen also makes a surprise appearance near the end. Although she is anything but dramatic here. Must be her low blood sugar.  Or that I won't let her complete her second question, {about Pillow Pets mind you}.

Let me know if I can stay with any of you until this crow situation is taken care of.

Oh, and don't tell me to build a scarecrow.  Unless you have a scarecrow and this works, then I might consider it.

July 19, 2011

Post It Note Tuesday: What Happened?

I used to be very religious about doing my Post It Note Tuesday Posts, then I got lazy, and just stopped. That's really no excuse. Okay, not promising every week, but as often as I can I will link up with Kristin over at the OPC. Besides, I have to support her, she's a Minnesota Mom Blogger. This does now make the tally officially 3 Minnesota single Moms nominated for that Top 25 Best Single Mom Blogs thing a little while back. What can I say, we're brilliant and we're stuck indoors a lot.

So I'm attempting to piece together a timeline from my super fabulous kid-free girl's weekend. This is not an easy task, the piecing. So I will offer you some of what I do remember in the PINT. Things heard amongst us as we all dragged ourselves out of bed in the morning and assessed the damages.

Yes, I know very boring.  It gives me a headache just typing it.  Someday I'll get that post up, as soon as I retrace my steps utilizing my drunk texts and phone calls.

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July 14, 2011

Karma: Don't Play the Player

Disclaimer: Hide your children friends; this is not a family friendly post. It's graphic, and by graphic I mean National Geographic. When I blog at night I get punchy, there may be some momentary awkwardness, but just push through it.

Before I brief you on my lunacy, I just have to share that every time I say the word Karma, I hear that bully kid from the Simpson's, "Ha-Ha" laugh in my head. Chances are you will too now I'd imagine. Ha-ha.

I am going to share a little theory I have with you. Oftentimes as I'm strolling right along through life and something "karmic" happens, I think to myself, "God is that you?” So a little part of me thinks, Karma is God's sense of humor. God likes to play this game with me a lot, but let it be known, I get LOTS of good Karma too, I have excellent parking Karma. I usually get a good laugh, or post out of it as well. And I really like being sassy, and it don't come cheap!  Got to pay the piper people.

So there's God, throwing the proverbial paper wad at me during class whilst I think I am saying something totally brilliant, but in fact...no, not so much. You've all been witness to it. A prime and more recent example for your reading pleasure....

Few posts ago, I kindly {seriously, I was nice}, wished you all a happy Independence Day. I also may have sassed something about you remembering your sunscreen so I didn't have to hear you all whine about your sunburns. Yes, well, I spent a good majority of that long weekend outdoors. Not without my SPF 120 mind you, I'm fair-skinned or maybe mildly transparent, I'm prepared. I haven't had a sunburn in years, I re-applied diligently, and my kids did not get burned. I did. Yes, my shoulders a little, a bizarre strip on my stomach which I'm still questioning, and the mid-region of my back that I can't quite reach except with my fingertips. Curse the single life!  This makes for an interesting looking burn I might say. It looks like something with claws attacked me.

Having a sunburn makes me crabby for two reasons. One, it could've been prevented and two, because the back of my bra strap rubs oh so sandpaperishly across the burned area like glass cutting into my skin! I'd like to tell you I could go without, the bra that is, but I will remind you of this very important mathematical equation:  My Age+2 kids= National Geographic tribal woman gone wild. In fact my best friend and I had a boob show down to see whose girls were in worse shape. {Totally hers! She's had 3 kids, 2 of which are twins, I felt like Barbie for like 2 minutes.} Anyway enough of this, it's getting weird.

Back to the unraveling of the Karmic burn. The pain is manageable after I stop crying and take some ibuprofen. So next on the docket is how to deal with the peeling. Yuck! It would be just grand if I could reach that area and rub some lotion on the mess, we know that isn't happening. My 6 year old tried, with her index finger tip, and since I don't have 5 years to waste waiting for that, I'll deal with it.

Okay, so it's not like my face or arms or anything visible is peeling-I usually wear a shirt. So what's the big deal you ask? Well, I'll tell you!

My friends, this very weekend...I DON'T HAVE MY CHILDREN!!! {Gasp!} I know, I know. {I'll miss them I think} This is like the first time in 3 years! I totally plan on wasting away all my time working sleeping, cleaning napping, and grocery shopping. But I have carved out some time to spend with my bestest girlfriends ...and we have plans.
That's right, like no ponytail, put on some mascara and heels plans. I'm a little excited.

I will get to look cute rather than "Momish". I have an adorable little strapless sundress that I was planning on wearing which will accentuate MY LEPROSY LOOKING NASTY PEELING SUNBURNED BACK!

See what I'm saying here? Maybe Jesus is telling me to dial it down and wear some jeans and a cute shirt? Listen Jesus, it's going to be 90 degrees; I don't want to wear jeans. Yes, I totally just sassed Jesus, could you take a moment and say a quick prayer for me please?

I bet you will all be on pins and needles until my girl's night out post next week. I have already decided I will probably have more than my two drink minimum, which means there will more than likely be a story to tell. Either my heel will get stuck in a sidewalk grate {true story, 22 degrees outside} or, I will post my booking photo as my new profile picture.

Off to exfoliate.

July 12, 2011

The Politics of Fear and Doubt

Here it comes. Casey Anthony, sort of, I really don’t have too much to say about her. Really I should be blogging on something else, like the government shut down craziness in Minnesota, don't get me started on that one. Okay, so this post, in my usual off topic fashion, is derived from the craziness and tragic nature of this case. Here goes....I can't be mad at the jury for the verdict. I didn't watch the trial, so I don't know all the ins and outs of this thing, I don't want to know {okay I know most of it, my sister filled me in, she watched this everyday}. I would be lying if I said I wasn't praying for a guilty verdict on at least some murder/homicide/abuse count(s). I don’t regard the ludicrous charges she got appropriate. Really?  I understand completely that you can't convict based upon a "feeling". In her shoes, I wouldn't want to be convicted of a crime without sufficient evidence either.  In the jury’s shoes, I wouldn’t want to convict without sufficient evidence.
That being said, when you throw anyone and everyone under the bus, act irresponsibly, lie, lie, cover up, lie and lie; I think you probably had a hand in death of your child. When my child does something wrong and doesn't want to fess up because they feel guilty, they lie, at least drama queen does, the boy and Autism don't understand lying. I wouldn't be surprised if there was some vigil ante justice after she is released, I hope not.  At any rate this will eat away at her for the rest of her life. Well never mind that, she doesn't seem to have much of a conscience.  I can't begin to speculate here, I can't relate to psychopath. Enough of her and her crazy.
I was really intrigued by Judge Perry's explanation to the jury about reasonable doubt, and how to differentiate if a witness testimony is believable or not. Basically, it's a gut feeling. {Keep in mind, paraphrasing} So this got me to thinking, we can reasonably doubt almost anything if we try, or don't try.  And are American's “gut feelings” now basically non-existent?
First, doubt.  Could someone have had reconstructive plastic surgery to look identical to the alleged killer? Sure. Improbable, yet possible. Doubt happens. It finds us easily.  It is a part of life, and often what holds us back from doing extraordinary things. Perhaps most often we doubt the things we feel most strongly about, our faith, love, loyalty, our instincts/conscience, ourselves; the things that reside in the deepest parts of our soul. At times it's easier to doubt and just give in to it than be brave and bold in our decisions and convictions. Fear holds us back from amazing things; much easier to let fear take hold, then to stand up to it and take chances, even though not knowing the outcome is scary.
Secondly, I got into a conversation about conscience at a class I was teaching with a lovely lady who happens to teach middle school. We were talking about the trial, and how even though Casey was declared not guilty, we all know she is guilty of something. It's a feeling. And so we talked about how nowadays {heehee, I'm old}, the general population cannot even differentiate between right and wrong, based upon emotion. It is skewed. She sees it in her students and parents, and it worsens as the years pass. Is it something ingrained in us that we get used to ignoring? Is it taught by our parents? Is it modeled by elders and peers? More than likely it is all of the above. The world is so demanding and there is always something vying for our attention. It's hard to differentiate between right and wrong when you can't hear it. The right decision comes from a place of calm, a quiet place where anger, rage, desperation, and hurt have no voice.
I struggle with how the jury could find any clarity in this trial. God bless ‘em.  It would've tore me up inside. Well let’s be realistic here, I probably would've been booted out for my peace and love hippy talk anyway. I hope they can find some serenity now that all is said and done.  I can only imagine the tremendous burden of doubt they carry wondering if they did the right thing. See? Doubt again.
If there is one thing I know in this life, it is that things are most certainly not black and white...well except for maybe speed limits.
Rest in peace, Caylee.

July 10, 2011

Comment Thingy

Okay my fantastic, well-behaved, seriously hilarious, smart..NO, brilliant and gracious followers and fellow bloggers...I pose a question.

"What is the best way for my to reply to your comments?"

You all know I like me some comments, giving and receiving. I pretty much always have something to say, so you can count on me. I also like to connect with you all, I've made some great friendships through blogging, I will miss you when I run out of things to say and quit, or, you can't stand me anymore, or I get killed in some freak shark attack or something. But pretty safe assumption that I'd have to be near the ocean to be near a shark, and I don't see that happening anytime in my future for the next 12 years or so.

Back to the question at hand. As you may or may not have noticed...I have a little poll there at the right hand side bar, please vote, or leave me a comment, or both. Even though blogger says you can have more than four answers to choose from, it won't allow it. That is why I have a post here.

NOTE:  I closed the poll.  Thanks for all the responses, emails, comments and facebook comments.  Pretty sure I know where I'm going to go from here, but feel free to leave a comment if you have an opinion on the subject, thanks everyone!

I'm trying to figure out the best way to manage comments. Options are limited and leave these...

1. If you have a link/profile, email or blog with contact info, I can email you a response, which then usually leads to us chatting, and stalking each other, chatting on Twitter {or not, I'm seriously not good at Twitter} and ultimately being facebook friends, you introducing me to your single and cute Doctor friend, who I marry and move somewhere sunny, but then, the shark thing... I'm okay with that, I'll risk it.

2. I have no way of contacting you, and then I am left to answer you on the comment form. Or you block my emails and I answer you on the comment form. Do you check back? Have you subscribed to the comments to you know if I took the time to answer you, most often times I will. Send out a search party if I don't.

3. I could install Diqus. Not crazy about this. Hassle to log in every time, and then you still have to subscribe to replies, BUT you can all chat with each other! Word on the street is peeps like it. I don't know....

4. I will NOT install Intense Debate. I can tell you with all honesty, if I visit your blog and you have this third party comment system, I have never logged in to see if you replied. I'm sorry, I love you,  but this is a hassle. I'm an instant gratification kind of gal, with the least amount of work possible. Sad, but true.

5. I could do a little of both, email and comment form, status quo.

6. I can wait it out for another month or two and see what happens when Google revamps Blogger. That's what I hear; tell me if you know more about this. {Saying my prayers.}  This may be a non-issue as all of our blogs may be erased or damaged. I don't have a good feeling about it, just sayin'.

7. You could really care less, and I am way too obsessed with this blog. I feel you. I get this. I should go defrost my freezer or something.

8.  You never comment.  But you really should comment, it lets me know you care:)  Or you're scared, don't be scared.  If you can't think of anything to say,  just tell me I'm pretty.  You will be my favorite, one can't tell me I'm too pretty too many times in a day...unless your creepy, you know if your creepy.

As always, thanks for reading peeps!

Here is the link from Mashable about the Blogger revamp/rebranding/whatever...


July 07, 2011

Kiss My Grits Dr. Phil!

Do you know how much I want to blog about Casey Anthony right now? A LOT!!! Talk me down from the ledge people, I am fighting it, but don't know how long I'll be able to maintain silence on the subject. I feel that until I unleash on the absurdity of her baby killing ways predicament, my posts will be hum-drum, dull...boring. {Be advised, I'm not one of those obsessive people who has been watching the trial day in and out, I just have strong feelings on the subject that I feel you need to know.}
So...here is the best I've got, so sad.

Today I was at the grocery store in the checkout line. I chose lane #11 for two reasons, a.) No line and b.) No candy in this lane. Woo-hoo. The check out lad seemed to be in his very early 20's, noting he gets younger and more naive as the story goes on.

Per the norm, the boy starts in on his, "I want a treat", plea. Today, no treat. So I just keep up my dialogue, "sorry buddy, no treat". And thusly repeat. Broken record. Broken record. Broken record.

Now I thought things were going just swimmingly, there was no throwing, no tears, no flailing of appendages, no yelling...well maybe a little more than loud debate going on here. This in my book was fantastic for a 5p.m. {a.k.a. the witching hour} grocery run of necessity. Plus, get this; the boy was actually sitting in the cart! This never happens; I was already having a hallelujah moment. I was about to gift the boy with a gold star, no, halo and wings!

So check out lad and I are chatting, I'm very chatty, but he...he is Chatty McChatterson. And out of the blue he says, "So you know what you need to do about this?"

"This?" I say. Whatever is he talking about? How my groceries are beyond healthy and I should stop being so hard on myself and throw in a chocolate donut? This is where my mind is at this point and time.

Grocery lad: "When your kid is having a tantrum and not getting his way, you're supposed to take something they love away."

Me: "Huh?" Where did this come from grocery lad, initially I liked you, why did you have to ruin it all by giving me parenting advice?  Can't you see I am the perfect parent grocery lad?  Does it not radiate from within? 

Grocery lad: "Yeah, my Mom just saw this on Dr. Phil. If he's having a tantrum, you tell him, dude, I'm going to take away your cars, or truck or legos or something."

Me: "Oh you mean threatening. Yeah, I have a black belt in threatening."

Grocery lad: "Try it, go ahead."

{Now, my temper is rising a tad. Zip it grocery lad. I'm not the kind of girl to drop everything and have a parenting moment on the spot in the checkout lane from the advice of a 20 something, via his Mom, via Dr. Phil.}

Me: "Thanks, I have it under control."

Relentless Grocery lad: "Well Dr. Phil says it works every time and you'll nip it right in the bud after the first time."

{Important to note now that the boy is over said tantrum and has wandered over to view the red box selection with sister. Now this is a NON-ISSUE.}

Me: "Hmm, wish I would've thought of that. You have kids?" Now you all know this is the classic kiss my grits line masked by a polite question.

Grocery lad: "NO WAY!!!"

Me: "Alrighty, oh, never mind the price check on the Mango, its okay." {Why can't I bag faster?}

Grocery lad: "Well my Mom says..."

At this point I decide to play the Autism card, if only to shut him up. Usually the Autism card is good for silencing "well meaning" advisers and meanies.

Me: "He has Autism...dude."
Grocery lad: "Ohhh, my Mom works with Autistic kids!"

Of course she does.

Thanks for making EVERYONE the expert Dr. Phil!

We all receive unsolicited parenting advice from time to time.  From this very blog in fact on some occasions!  Have you every had a "kiss my grits" parenting moment with a relentless by stander?  Do tell.

 I might even get brave a little later and reveal my throw down moment with another Mom on the playground.  That's right, I can get scrappy...

July 05, 2011

Avenged...At Last

I've made it public knowledge that I'm a bit scatter-brained, even perhaps forgetful at times. But in my defense, I have a lot going on. Huh, what's that? I've used that excuse one hundred million times  already? Well I'm not too concerned...much. Okay, sometimes I'm concerned; I should probably get it checked out or get some sort of scan or something. Maybe the "tumor" would also explain the moronic things that spew out of my mouth, uncontrollably. Thank goodness there would be an explanation for that! {Not saying that tumors are good by any means, very bad, bad, bad; not making light of my pseudo-tumor or real tumors, see what I'm saying...spewing...}

So as not to make this post anymore excruciating than it already will be I'm sure; I'll make this snappy. Morning routine goes something like this most days: I drop Drama Queen off at daycare, promptly travel over the river and through the woods, across the border, get through customs and arrive at my son's school. He attends a little thing I like to call, "preschool-ish program with typical peers and respite" {technical term there} before Autism Day Treatment in the afternoon.

 Thursday last, last {meaning two Thursdays ago- hang in there people}, we were running late, shocker...check it out in case you missed this, I'm a mess. I had all fifteen bags packed, lunches made, lovies in hand, swimming attire, sunscreen, too big mom bag, whatever permission slips,  waivers and checks I forgot yesterday and MUST bring today, and was carrying it all to the car with my hands, teeth and atop my head. As we reach the car, I notice the little dude doesn't have any shoes on. {Note, I did put them on him once, sneaky} "Where are your shoes?"  Yes of course, "I dunno."  I throw all the crap in the car and go back and unlock Ft. Knox and disarm alarms and junk, run all over to find the shoes, re-arm Ft. Knox and then search for escapee child now teetering dangerously close to the woods, barefoot. I'm seriously going to lose him one day, I kid you not. He's faster than me. {I need more cardio}.

So we get to the boy's school a mere 5 minutes later than usual, not too shabby if I do say so myself. Usually, this would not be a big deal, in fact, that's five less minutes of $14 dollars an hour I pay these people. Kids can arrive anywhere from 8-10am. Except this day. Note left on the white board reads:

 "8:15-11:30 gone on field trip to park far, far away, by bus, sorry suckers"
{Insert maniacal laugh if you please, I did}
toy or weapon?
I could have pitched a fit at this point. I could've chucked a plastic toy cow right into the tissue paper flower garden. But no, not my style really...today at least...or ever...for real...I mean that. How in God's name did I forget there was a field trip? No time to beat myself up about this, I have bigger cows to toss. The boy is not going to take kindly to packing up and getting back into the car. This means routine equals squelched. Not good people. Workable, but not good in situations where a Mommy has to figure some stuff out in a jiffy.

I resorted to bribery using snacks as a diversionary tactic, so I could make some phone calls without screaming in the background. So the meltdown was shorter than it would have been without Skittles. No judging. Desperate times call for Skittles. {Always on hand, in the Mom bag, I'm forgetful, but no fool.}

 I promptly call into work with my usual, "Hi it's me, I'm a complete dumbass line, and guess what I did now?” I can only imagine this will not work much longer. But I reassure them I will be there as soon as I can, very unspecific about when soon may be. They love me, I'm telling you...only because they love me is why I am still employed. And because I do something brilliant once in a while and save my self for another day.

I begin on the quest to find someone to watch my kid, then take my kid over the river and through...you know the rest, for the afternoon. I started at "A" in my contacts list, and by the time I got to "X", I pretty much decided everyone was ignoring my calls. By this point I may as well suck it up, and head home.

They boy and I pulled back into home sweet home, and only then when I was finally relaxing did it start to bug me. How the heck did I forget this field trip? Usually field trips make me anxious and squirmy, if I lose my kid that's one thing, but if someone else does, that's another. I know there is an Amber Alert in my future, sad, but true. And it will be due to the fact that I blinked basically. Now I think maybe I should call the doctor, maybe add some more supplements to my vitamin regimen. This is bad, what's next, I forget to pick up my kids? I should take some action here; it is affecting my job, not good, not good at all.

 We arrive back at school at 11:30 and wait for the class to return. When the teachers arrive in the classroom, I greet them with my head hanging saying, "Hi I'm the Mom of the Year...we missed you by 5 minutes." I was about to add the words, "I forgot", but was interrupted by one of the teachers who chimes, "Oh my gosh, Cari, we forgot to tell you...we switched the field trip for next week to TODAY." Sorry and stuff in there too, I only imagine from the numerous times she apologized I must have had my lips curled and had squinted eyes, maybe teeth clenching. {More than normal}

I could've been mad. I could've really thrown a temper tantrum. But she forgot, bless her heart.  Guess who else does that...all.the.time? Yeah, me. Lesson learned big guy.

On the bright and glorious side of the story, I may have actually been skipping out of the school building. And would you like to know why? Oh, hah, no insurance didn't change their mind and we didn't qualify for the fantastic scholarship to that school, you're so funny. No, I was relieved, because for once, I did not forget.

Avenged my friends. Brain intact. For that day at least.  I will remember it always.
What was I saying?

July 02, 2011

Happy 4th!

I hope everyone has a wonderful long holiday weekend!  Be safe, have fun, wear sunscreen {I don't need to be reading about how bad your sunburn was next week in my google reader}.  Oh, and happy be-lated Canada Day to all my Canadian blog peeps, who I adore.  Please take time to thank those who have sacrificed for our freedom, and be thankful for it.  I'm going to take a few days off from blogging, if you're really desperate and need a fix, just view my vlog again...or dig through the archives or something:)