Me, Mama, Wifey.
Mom. Wife. Lovah. Smart ass. Lazy perfectionist. Cute in a hair-clip yuppie kinda way. The wet clothes are in the dryer, but the dryer ain't on. One-day famous entrepreneur of Good for the Kids.
It’s been a while since I’ve felt that “gotta-have-you-now-feeling” from another man.
But I did last night.
He liked and wanted me as I am - an overweight, stay-at-home, married mom of two toddlers.
Kiefer Sutherland wanted me to GO HOME with him.
And in one sudden waking flash, it all ended with the noise of hacking-up-a-lung from my husband at 5am.
Gee, thanks, hon.
I could have had Kiefer Sutherland.
****************************
SO, I was a bit snappy last night to my husband (no, he’s not a dh - he’d KILL me if I called him “dear” anything). I was under a bit of stress from getting ready for the expo that was today. I think that’s a bit understandable. I get stressed easily, and I really try to mask it and not take it out on him. After all, it’s only his fault 90% of the time.
SO, when I took out my computer late last night after getting back from setting up my booth and the power cord wasn’t plugged in, I said, “I TOLD you not to unplug the power cord.” (Notice no exclamation point. Just an emphasis on “told.”)
SO, his response was, “I’m SORRY. What DIFFERENCE does it make? How HARD is it to plug in?”
SO, my response was, “I’m just a little stressed. It’s fine.” (Notice no exclamation point. Just an under-my-breath “fine.”)
SO, his response was, “You DON’T have to take it out on ME if you’re stressed.”
Pause.
SO, then he says, “My team (NY Mets) is blowing their season, so I’M a little STRESSED.”
I see… Priorities.
I had no response. How do I respond to such stress and life-altering events in one’s life?
*************************
Two of my very good friends have 2yo boys a few weeks apart from one another. They’re both in the same day care class while their moms, both teachers at the same school, go to work.
Why am I sharing this info?
Becuase these 2 YEAR OLDS have HOMEWORK!
Yes, I said homework. For 2 year olds. In day care.
What was the homework for the 2 year olds in day care? Writing letters.
Exsqueese me? 2 year olds writing letters?
As a mom of two toddlers (3 & 1) with Master’s Degree in Elementary Education, I’d like to know what is this world coming to?
******************************
I like to consider myself an edumacated person when it comes to pop culture, higher education, and regular-everyday-stuff. So, when I drive through Taco Bell on my bi-weekly visit to pick up my usual, I know what I’m putting in my body. Yeah, yeah. I know it’s crap, but it’s damn good crap. And when you have two toddlers, a full-time at-home job, and a lack of motivation to cook, you tend to drive-thru more than you should. *Justification alert*
Today was any other day at the Taco Bell drive-thru. I roll in my T&C up to the voice box (which, BTW, is a bit quieter than usual I notice) and order my usual: T6 Combo with steak baja chalupas, soft chicken taco, and mountain dew. Mmmm… tasty. EVERY FRIGGIN time I order, I think to myself, “I really need to look up the Nutrition Facts on this,” at the same time thinking, “I really DON’T need to look up the Nutrition Facts on this. Am I CRAZY? I don’t want to give ups the goodness of the T6 Combo for my health!”
I pull up to the window in the normal speediness of my Taco Bell. (They really are quick here!) I get the usual question, “Any sauce?” and I give my normal answer, “One hot, please.”
I get a look from the window lady.
TB: “Were you here yesterday?”
Me: “Um. No, not yesterday. But I’m here about 2x a week, but not yesterday.”
TB: “Oh. I remember that you always ask for ‘One hot’.”
Me: “Yeah. I always get the same thing.”
TB: “This isn’t good for you! You shouldn’t eat this!”
Me: THINKING: Uuuuuuummmmmmmmmmmm… Exsqueese me? Did you just turn into my father and tell me I don’t need to eat the food you are serving me from TACO BELL? Do you think I don’t KNOW what crap you are serving me? Do you think I am STUPID and didn’t read “Fast Food Nation” and give up all drive-thru for a year?
I guess I am stupid, because she continues.
TB: “I don’t eat this stuff. It’s so BAD for you. I just had a baby 4 months ago and I have to lose weight (patting flat belly). I can’t eat this stuff.”
Me: nervous laughing “Yeah. I know it’s bad. But, hey, ha, I don’t eat McDonald’s! Ha, I haven’t, ha, had McD’s in like, ha, 5 years. My kids have never even had it! Ha!”
Why am I trying to justify my addictions choices to the Taco Bell lady SERVING me this fattening food?
I know what I eat. I know it’s crap.
Hey, you have a crappy job lady. So THERE! TTTHHHH!
I’m going to eat my crappy delicious food. Lard and all.
Go suck it, Taco Bell lady.
See ya tomorrow!
If either of my daughters bring anyone around me that has anywhere NEAR the personality of Spencer on The Hills, I will take my family and move to Canada.
They have better health care there anyway.
UGH - I thought of putting up a picture of him with an “x” through it, but then I realized I don’t want to make you suffer from looking at him. BLECH!
Now you’re all gonna know exactly how loony I am. But I think more of you will relate than you’ll admit. It’s OK - you can admit it. You’re JUST like me. With Tiny People living inside your head.
You, too, believe there are Tiny People inside your head and body running the show. Admit it to yourself.
There is a cast of characters with a hierarchy within the world of Me, though they keep to themselves the who’s who of their caste system.
They run Me with their little yellow hats on their little heads. They organize the filing cabinets that hold all of the information within my Memory Bank. Sometimes they find the information; sometimes they don’t.
There are times when I fight with the Tiny People. We fight about what to eat, how much to eat, and when to stop eating. They say, “Yes, you do want that brownie sundae,” and, “Yes, you do need a Coke.” I lose the Food Battle against the Tiny People most of the time.
Most of the time when I fight the good fight with the Tiny People I win. I win when I battle them in regards to my happiness. For whatever reason, the Tiny People don’t like me sometimes, but I always prevail. Those damn Tiny People.
Please don’t run screaming and never return. Embrace your inner Tiny People. Admit it to yourself and everyone else that they exist.
The Tiny People with their yellow hats inside your head.
*********************************
The ‘rents are in town for the weekend. I’m not going to give you a rundown of the weekend or they crying that commenced whilst (love that word) looking for clothes. Email if you wanna know more. I’m too much of weeny to post why it actually happened.
To bide time, I suggested we take a trip to the mall. So mom, sister, the girls and I hopped in the T&C and rolled off to the tourist shopping central of Orlando - The Florida Mall. Personally, I like the mall, and the masses of people and tourists (not real people) don’t really bother me. I won’t, however, be caught DEAD there between Thanksgiving and New Years, but any other time isn’t a problem for me. But for mom, the masses are a lot to handle, and with two toddlers in tow with no stroller (really, what’s the point?), it can be a little draining.
BTW - mom’s fallen asleep in the recliner as I type. How women over 50 have young children, I have no idea.
One of my main reasons for going to this mall is they have a Ruby Tuesday. And Ruby Tuesday has a salad bar. And their salad bar has pumpernickel croutons. Pumpernickel croutons. I go to the mall and fight off the tourists for pumpernickel croutons.
After taking side trips into the M&M super store (someone PLEASE tell my who out there likes M&Ms enough to need dishes, purses, pajamas, clocks, and giant pens of M&Ms), the tea store, and Ann Taylor Loft (for the sis), we finally made it to the pumpernickel croutons Ruby Tuesday. I had to make the promise of the Disney Store if NaNa was a very good girl while we ate. Had to have something to hold over her head.
The first thing I always ask at RT is if I can get the salad bar and share it with the girls. Their comment is always, “Sure! HAHA - they won’t eat that much, so no problem!” Little do they know, my girls can DOWN some fresh veggies, beans, and grapes. (I need my own salad bar at home.)
So I go up to the salad bar, get the girls their little piles of fresh foods, and get to the end of the salad bar. And that’s when I see there are NO PUMPERNICKEL CROUTONS. Seriously, I almost had a heart attack. I had to keep control. Hey (nervous laughing) maybe they’re just out of stock and the salad bard stock boy hasn’t re-loaded the carafe of pumpernickel croutons. 1000 reasons are floating through my head as to WHY the carafe would be empty. Surely, (nervous laughing) someone else might love the pumpernickel croutons as much as I. (nervous laughing) So, I calmly tell the hostess that the pumpernickel croutons are (haha) out. She responds with a very reassuring response that she’ll make sure the salad bar filler knows and will replenish the pumpernickel croutons. Whew… Crisis averted! There will be more pumpernickel croutons when I return to fill my plate with my salad bar salad and pumpernickel croutons.
But this was not the case.
Yes, ladies and gentleman, when I returned with my sister to load my plate with my salad bar salad, I made my way down the salad bar all the while in the back of my head thinking, “They better have replenished the pumpernickel croutons carafe with more pumpernickel croutons” but, alas, THERE WERE NO PUMPERNICKEL CROUTONS.
Double heart attack. I stopped in my tracks with my salad bar salad in hand looking in vain for more pumpernickel croutons. I had to stop a waiter in his tracks to ask where the pumpernickel croutons were and to please find them for me. While he walked slowly (he obviously didn’t understand the necessity of locating my pumpernickel croutons and that I had travelled miles out of my way for said croutons) into the kitchen to locate my pumpernickel croutons, I asked the hostess once again where the pumpernickel croutons where and could I get some. That’s when she laid it on me. THEY WERE OUT OF PUMPERNICKEL CROUTONS FOR THE NIGHT. Triple heart attack.
Seriously people. I come to the RT FOR the pumpernickel croutons. *Open statement to Ruby Tuesday: Without pumpernickel croutons, you are just another mall restaurant with regular food, regular decor, and regular service. But, because you have the pumpernickel croutons, I go out of my way, walk through the food court (an Olympic sport with two toddlers), and weave through 1000s of tourists buying scalp massagers and crappy luggage to get to your pumpernickel croutons.
So, with my heart broken and my head hung low, I load my salad with sesame seeds. Joy.
I head back to the table where my girls are joyfully inhaling edamame, grapes, garbanzo beans, and carrots, and start to eat my regular salad bar salad. Joy. My sis kept a keen eye on the salad bar JUST IN CASE there would be more pumpernickel croutons to make their way out of someone’s ass to the salad bar. (That doesn’t sound appealing, and I almost took that out, but things that just appear come out of someone’s ass, so it stays.) She spied the salad bar boy coming out, so she made a mad dash up to the salad bar to check on the status of the pumpernickel croutons. SURELY, the could not be totally out for the night. I mean, (nervous laughter) they are Ruby Tuesday, and why would anyone go (nervous laughter) if they didn’t have the pumpernickel croutons.
While the sis was off fighting the good fight, our slow-ass waiter makes it around to check on us, and I let him know with all the sadness I can exude, that I was told there were no more pumpernickel croutons.
That’s when it came. Mr. Slow-Ass Waiter let me know that yes, the cook was at that moment, preparing MY pumpernickel croutons.
What? What’s that you say? OH HAPPY DAY!!! HAPPY HAPPY JOY JOY! HALLELUJAH!
I immediately did a little happy dance and started making out with Mr. Slow-Ass Waiter Man let him know that we needed an entire vat just for our table. Seriously, Mr. Slow-Ass Waiter Man. LOAD US UP.
Not only did we get one huge plateful of pumpernickel croutons, we received TWO huge mounds of pumpernickel croutons delivered to our table!
That just goes to prove, never give up on your dreams. Positive directional thinking will get you everything you want in life. Even pumpernickel croutons.
*************************
Today, I can call myself an Accomplished Woman. I cleaned out my garage. Yes. I cleaned. The garage! And to top it off, the painters were in! House painters. Geez. Get your mind out of your panties the gutter.
It’s not everyday that I feel like the successful woman that I know I should be, but today, I feel like I actually did something. The empty boxes have been building for months, so I put up a “free boxes” post on Craigslist. I got several people vying for them, but one lucky single mom won the right to get to take my empty cardboard boxes. Plus, I actually got HockeyMan to help me out clean out my stuff and rearrange the merchandise.
Now we can actually walk through the garage without things attacking us. Seriously. You’d never know when a box would fall and decapitate a small dog, maim a child, or cause general death and destruction. It was THAT bad.
But now. Now I have an actual path to walk through the garage. I have accomplished something today.
And with the painting done (and the homeowners association off our back), I’m now $2,578 more in debt.
I am an Accomplished Woman!
*****************************
All Rights Reserved © A Whole Lot of Nothing | Powered by WordPress and Mountain Dew | Theme and CSS by se7en of Blogs Gone Wild!
