What to Do?

The children are with their father this weekend and PC is at work. I am home alone. It's kind of eerie. I don't think I've had the house to myself in over a year. The quiet is nice, but it's just plain freaky at the same time. I'm meeting my mother for lunch in an hour or so, and the band is playing tonight, so I still have to figure out what I'm wearing and get cute in time to meet and load up our gear, but for now....

I suppose I could do laundry, clean my room, take a hot bath, sweep up the mountains of dog hair, nap, maybe put some makeup on or do something with my hair, change out of my workout clothes, go get the fabric strips I need to repair my favorite jeans from the rip at the gig last week, or not. I could look for all of my laptop start up discs so perhaps I can fix it from whatever is wrong. I could go work in my garden. I could change my nail polish. I could sit here and blog for the next hour. I really should do laundry and clean my room, though.....but that's no fun, and certainly no way to spend my free time. I could look for all of LargeBoy's high school paperwork, since I'm terribly delinquent turning it in. Nah, that makes me feel old. I could pay bills. I'm sorry, I must be delusional - why would I pay bills on a beautiful day like this? That's depresssing.

I think, perhaps, I'll just do nothing. OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHh! There is margarita mix downstairs. It'll be noon in 13 minutes! Now THAT sounds like a lovely idea. I have no books to read until Monday, though, having finally finished the latest Harry Potter book. I guess that means I'll just have to sit on the front porch and enjoy the quiet for a few more minutes.

I have a feeling that there will be more of these days that I have time to myself. What do you do when you are finally home alone?

UGH!

Lovely, adoring, ever-so-wonderful readers:

I'd like to address this lack of articles. I have been icky sick all week and so has my computer. I have to have someone clean it out, which means all of my blogging has to be done, on the sly, at my desk at work...sigh....What better way to spend your first day back at work after being sick for three days!!!

Shameless Band Plug!

Come on out and have a blast! We will!

Isn't She Lovely

From my sister's wedding this weekend. Photos by Anna Tovello

It was 105 degrees on Sunday. We didn't melt and the wedding was beautiful. The food was awesome, the cake was beyond belief. It was wonderful!

Speaking of Rockin' Mama

How absolutely hilarious is THIS?

You Are a Chick Rocker!

You're living proof that chicks can rock You're inspired by Joan Jett and the Donnas And when you rock, you rock hard (Plus, you get all the cute guy groupies you want!)

What Kind of Rocker Are You?

Rockin' Mama

As of this morning, I only have a few pics from last night's gig, but I wanted to make sure to show you kinda sorta what we looked like. This looks pretty tame, so it must have been during the soundcheck. I have a few others, but I don't know how to crop out the people in here who would prefer not to be on camera....I figured this was blurry enough. I should have some more pics by next week to post for you, though! I would be the one in the orange.

Oh, but I must share...as incredible as the gig was, I had a little oopsie right before we were on. I went into the little girls room to "get cute" before we went on. As I bent down to set my drink on the floor, my pants ripped. No, no, no...not from what you'd think. I had a weak spot near the back pocket from yanking my jeans up by the belt straps. Well, apparently, I had stepped on the cuff of my pants while I was bending down and RRRRRRRrrrrip...right down the pocket. Thank GOD I was wearing a long shirt. My poor band had to look at my behind all night though. Thanks guys for taking care of my drinks all night!

Tales from the Ex Files

I really should just write the blog that I created for this specific bitching. But for now, I'll share with y'all, get you hooked, and THEN switch to my third blog! But for now, I'll fill you in on the latest round with "My Favorite Ex"...and yes, that is extreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeemely sarcastic.

Ex and I have been going around in circles on whether or not we should pull SmallBoy from the school he is in and enroll him in the public schools for the next couple of years in order to afford him the help that he needs, all the while, having the school district pay for it. He was all over it, simply because it would cause him one less tuition, and he'd get off cheap on the 50% he needs to fork over for his half of anything for the children not covered by insurance. After conversations with the principal and assistant principal at SmallBoy's school, we came to the decision that SmallBoy would be best staying at his present school. As it turns out, the district will only pay for Occupational Therapy and/or Behavior Therapy if his academic skills are at risk(SmallBoy needs to learn coping mechanisms for his frustrations and to avoid meltdowns). Part of the Asperger's syndrome is an above average to high intelligence. SmallBoy is doing extremely well in school at the moment. He may need help later in his academic career for application and comprehension, but not right now, so the district won't cover it. However, insurance should. Ex's insurance is known to be a reputable insurance company that covers quite a bit....even though they only covered 1/9th of his dx evaluation.

In the middle of explaining all of this to Ex, he decided that it was time to rip me a new one. Married and with a new "fresh-out", he's still disgusted with the fact that I divorced him and am now terribly head over heels in love with my wonderful new husband...even though Ex has made it a point to leave me broker than a G-string on a guitar (yes, on a guitar). He went off on this tangent about when the kids came to visit last weekend, SmallBoy showed up in disgusting clothes, filthy, and covered in boogies, and all of the clothes in his bag were dirty. Now I help SmallBoy pack, because he usually needs some guidance. This time, something else was going on and it just didn't happen. I asked him what he packed, and he told me, "two unners, two shorts, two shirts, two pairs of socks, sleepshorts, and swim trunks." I didn't double check. FOOOOOOLISH ME! As it turns out, he grabbed what he could find from his bedroom floor and the top of the hamper. As for the shirt covered in boogies, well, Ex makes it a point to pick the kids up on his weekends well before I get home from work, so that I can't say bye. Since I'm at work all day trying to make ends meet, I didn't really have a chance to come home and tell him to change his clothes before he left. OOOPS! Bad Mama Sin #1.

Girl and Girl's stepsister went to a movie and took SmallBoy with. SmallBoy, looking for mooches of candy and popcorn, like any typical 8 1/2 yr old, complained that he hadn't eaten anything all day. Of COURSE, this got back to Ex, who promptly screamed at me for not feeding my children. Well, hmmm, let's see...SmallBoy woke up between 9 & 9:30 that day and had eggs for breakfast. The Asperger's has SmallBoy VERY schedule bound...he will NOT eat any meal before its designated time frame. They left for the movie at 12:05, leaving not enough time for SmallBoy to eat lunch at the "proper" lunch time.

Having fun yet? Oh, there's more. I was told that Large Boy (almost 15) and Girl (almost 13) are not allowed to babysit anymore because it's too much of a sacrifice for them. I told him that they have a system down when they have plans and that it works out just fine and, that 3/4 of the time, PC is here anyway. I work 7 minutes away, so, God forbid something hould happen, I can get home in the blink of an eye. This went on and on...if you're not bored yet, you should be.

Lastly, though, he made it a point to tell me, using the actual words this time instead of indirect reference, that I am, for real, a bad mom.

OOOOOOOOOOOOH he's SUCH a bastard! Come SmallBoy's 18th birthday, I know a bunch of people who will be showing up on Ex's doorstep with middle fingers extended (on both hands)...or perhaps a lawn decoration saying, "Happy 18th Birthday SmallBoy. Ex --- F- OFF!" Only I won't censor. 9 more years. I can do this, right?

Fitzgerald's! Be There!

Not being as well versed in html techno-verbage as Citations, I cannot bring you the fabulous flyer for our band's gig this weekend at Fitzgerald's (click to see the schedule for the month...we are on the 15th!). However, if you check over with FC, she has the wonderful flyer posted.

Come and see our band, Code West, tomorrow night at Fitzgerald's. We expect to see you all there. My friends across the pond, perhaps I'll figure out how to post pictures for you so you, too, can share in the fun.

The Piercing of Girl

My older children have been receiving some rewards for helping out with SmallBoy and taking turns sacrificing their summer free time. Last week PC took them to see War of the Worlds...FABULOUS movie, btw, and I am SO NOT a fan of Mr. Polly Prissy-Pants Tom Cruise. They LOVED it! Girl has been asking since way back in basketball season if she could get her cartilage pierced (ears, not nose...trust me). I told her that after the season was over that she needed to talk it over with her father and with me and that we'd think about it. Well, basketball season ended and she was raring to go. Her dad said ok and I said ok. One snag...softball season. Now, all of these sports require that you wear NO jewelry of any kind. That proves to be a bit difficult when you have to leave a freshly pierced anything in for at least 8wks before removing it. So, we waited out softball season which just ended last weekend. She checked with her dad to make sure it was still ok with him and then we were off.

"Mom, Suzie Q told me about this great place in the mall to get it done." We went in search of the place that Suzie Q had told her about only to find it was merely a kiosk in the center of the mall. NO WAY!!! Instead we chose to go to a more known accessories store that has a reputation for good piercings. As we walked in, we stumbled across a family getting their baby girl's ears pierced and she was screaming bloody murder. I told Girl that she was going to have to hold my hand while she got it done or I was going to hurl. She assured me all would be well and that she would be a big girl.

Then came all of the instruction forms and releases that we had to sign. I had to lie about her birthday. I don't know about anywhere else, but in the Land of Lincoln, one must be 13 to have cartilage pierced, even with parental consent. So, I had to fudge her birthday by a few months...ok, so I fudged it by a year, it was just easier to do the math that way. So Girl hopped up in the chair, looked at where the purple marker dot was on her ear and told the girl, "Starr", to go for it. As I turned my head away, I squished in my stomach so that I wouldn't feel it turn inside out at the crunching sound of the piercing. No crunch. I thought she had chickened out. Nope. I turned around and there it was. She looks like a real live teenager now. Lord, help me!

"Did it hurt?" I asked her. She told me that the piercing itself didn't hurt but good Lord was there pain and burning afterwards. She's a tough girl, though. I'm proud of her. I didn't faint. I'm proud of me, too.

Prayers Overseas

All of our thoughts and prayers to our friends and loved ones across the Pond in London. We pray that all of you and yours are safe.

It's About Time!

Thanks to Mom in the Mirror for this great post about a Mom's Bill of Rights. Here is her column. Click over to read the comments and to add your own.

>July 01, 2005

The Mommy's Bill of Rights

I just discovered a clever article by a writer who "decided the Constitution, a model for human rights and democracy, gives little hope to mothers who don't have time to pursue life or liberty, and whose happiness is stopping at a red light to finish brushing their teeth in the rear view mirror."

She's written the Mommy's Bill of Rights because "someone has to uphold the rights of a group of people whose arms are too tired by the end of the day to hold anything else up."

Here's an edited version (these are mostly her words, I just shortened and summarized in places):

Article I: A Mom has the right to freedom of (uninterrupted) speech.

Article II: Mom has the right to confiscate any inanimate object.

Article III: All mothers have the natural right to bear and utilize one of the most dangerous and powerful weapons in the world: guilt.

Article IV: Moms have the right to peacefully assemble -- without their children.

Article V: Mom has the right not to be a victim of cruel and unusual punishment.

Article VI: Mom has the right to own unbroken possessions.

Article VII: Mothers have the right to bestow wisdom.

Article VIII: Mothers have the right to donate.

Article IX: Mothers have the right to vigorously promote coats and vegetables.

Article X: Mothers have the right to prohibit anyone younger than 5 from asking "but, why?"

Amendment I: A mother has the right to love her children unconditionally -- forever.

I have also taken it upon myself to add:

Mothers have the right to sleep until at least dawn, the right to have someone else get up in the morning when she's been up all night sleepless with a sick child.



Mothers have the right to shower without siblings running into the bathroom complaining of hunger, a spill, another sibling, the DVD player, etc...

Mothers have the right to be sick and/or injured all by themselves, without anyone else being sick or injured...and if someone else really and truly IS sick or injured at the same time, then that person needs to find someone else to fill in until Mom is fully healed and healthy.

Comments?

Life Lesson #1504

I hope each of you had a wonderful 4th of July! We did some major yardwork on Monday after spending the rest of the weekend running around like crazy. I just wish that not only would the 4th of July be a mandatory holiday (because it's not at my office - I had to B.S. my way to get the day off), but that the 5th of July also be a holiday to allow recovery time. People travel, have parties, stay up late for the fireworks, wait for the kids to come home from their outtings....we need that next day to kick back and let our bodies catch up. Ok, done with that....out of my system until next year. On to the lesson:

Never use a curling iron when dressed only in your robe!!!

I learned this lesson the hard way while getting ready for work. I had been trying to curl my hair relatively quickly, as it was already 15minutes to "Go-time". I had not yet picked out what to wear, so I was still in my robe. My hands were still just a teensy-weensy bit wet from washing my face. As I rolled down a curl near the top of my head, the iron, slippery from my hands fell. There was no time for instinct to kick in. All of a sudden I felt something tingling in a not so sexy way right across....yeah, you guessed it, my right...hmmm, what's a good synonym for this...."ninny" (thanks for the word KC).

I have been using your typical burn, cut, scrape antibiotic ointment and it's beginning to heal nicely, but it itches like almighty hell. What drives me even more crazy is that I can't exactly scratch it, even though I know I shouldn't anyway.

So, learn from me: Always make sure your hands are dry when you're curling your hair and make sure you always have on some kind of a shirt or SOMETHING! To be correct and fair to the gentlemen, I would definitely advise wearing pants if you are curling your hair or near someone who happens to be curling hair!

Friday Funny: How to Clean The Toilet

Thanks to Milly for this funny. In my house I picture this happening the other way around:

How to Clean The Toilet:

1. Put both lids of the toilet up and add 1/8 cup of pet shampoo to the water in the bowl.
2. Pick up the cat and soothe him while you carry him towards the bathroom.
3. In one smooth movement, put the cat in the toilet and close both lids. You may need to stand on the lid.
4. The cat will self agitate and make ample suds. Never mind the noises that come from the toilet, the cat is actually enjoying this.
5. Flush the toilet three or four times. This provides a "power-wash" and rinse".
6. Have someone open the front door of your home. Be sure that there are no people between the bathroom and the front door.
7. Stand behind the toilet as far as you can, and quickly lift both lids.
8. The cat will rocket out of the toilet, streak through the bathroom, and run outside where he will dry himself off.
9. Both the commode and the cat will be sparkling clean.

Sincerely,

The Dog