He Wants Advice from Me??!!?!

Who are those people talking on my my phone?!?  I barely recognize them with all that laughter.  And he's asking her for advice?  Wow! 

Just got off the phone with my dad.  For him, yes, I'll answer.  It's weird how relationships change and evolve over the years. 

My dad and I were never close when I was growing up.  In fact, at times I considered him my mortal enemy.  Seriously, the man was anything but friendly towards me.  I don't think he liked me very much.  We could sit in the same room for hours and never utter a single word to one another.  There was no "hello," no "how was your day?", no "kiss my ass"...nothing.  We just co-existed in the same dwelling.

I do have a few "warm" memories of my dad, though.  I remember him taking us fishing and crabbing off the Howard Avenue pier.  When we were little, he'd wake us up in the middle of the night for snow!  Once when I was about nine, he cleverly pretended that our bathroom was a princess suite so that I'd voluntarily, and with great excitement, take the first bath.  Then there was the time when he bought me a car and taught me to drive.  He even chased down a would-be sexual predator who harrassed me as I walked home from school.  Yes, we did have a few father-daughter moments that are as vividly etched in my memory as the birth of my first child.

Unfortunately, however, there were far too many days filled with hatred and indifference.  Hatred on my part; indifference on his.  We fought about everything from my short shorts to the color of our carpet.  And when there was no fighting, there was nothing.  Just the deafening sound of silence.  I was never more uncomfortable around a person than I was my dad.  I can't pinpoint one pivotal moment in our relationship that led us to those most miserable of days.  All I know is I could not wait to get out of his house.

At 18, that was exactly what I did.  I turned 18 in April, graduated in early June, and moved into a tiny apartment with my crazy psycho loser boyfriend in July.  (Yall remember Scotty from my story about getting choked out at a Mardi Gras parade and going to jail?  Gotta love the young and dumb.)  For the most part, I never went back.  The road has been long and bumpy.  I'm hard-headed; all lessons are learned the...um...severe way.  

Now that I have my own little demons, those troubling days appear much different from how I originally remembered them.  No wonder he didn't talk to me!  I was a drama queen, bitch from hell!  While I never really got into too much trouble like my siblings, I was a very difficult teen.  I required so much energy.  The tension in our house was ruled by Her Royal Diva-ness, moi!  If my hair didn't curl right or I couldn't find my shoes, it was going to be a miserable day.  For everyone.  My mother was a martyr who felt it her duty to put up with me.  But my dad was a saint for not killing me!

Today, my dad and I are different.  We've seen some tumultuous years filled with heartache and family tragedies, but we're cool now.  I like it.  We actually talk to one another.  We laugh and cut up just like...well, just like we should.  I always thought I was a lot like my mom, but I was sooo very wrong.  She was too nice, too patient, too trusting. 

Nope, I'm my dad's daughter.  Tough, yet loving.  I keep my circle small, but I'm very loyal.  I'm not afraid to laugh at myself or others (sorry...).  I get through life's tough spots by looking for the humor.  So does he.  The man is a freakin' hoot.  You should hear him tell a story!

Here's a recent pic of Daddy & the kids.  They ADORE him!

Happy Father's Day, Dad!  I know you probably won't read this because, although you've had one for twenty years, you don't know how to work a computer.  That's okay.  I'm pretty sure you know how I feel any way. 

I love you, Daddy!

Excuse Me, But Do Those Prison Stripes Come in His Size??

My son needs help.  Serious help.  I've never seen anything like it.  For such a sweet, charismatic, smart, and extremely adorable five year old, he has a dark side that is starting to bother me.  I've kinda tried to ignore.  Until now.

I'm afraid an intervention, or an exorcism, may be necessary.

My son is a five-year-old stuffaholic.  He's a certifiable treasure box junkie!  He is obsessed with acquiring junk!  I don't want to call it greed because I'm not convinced that's it.  He'll gladly give to others.  In fact, he is always wrapping up his toys to give to his friends as presents.  But he is even happier to be on the receiving end.  In fact, he got pissed when he didn't get a parting gift at a recent birthday party.  

At his preschool graduation, his teachers gave out funny, special awards to all of the kids.  He got "Most Likely to Bring a Toy to School Every Day."  WTH???  It's true, though.  He would always stick some little figurine or car in his backpack before leaving for school each morning.  My son, Mr. Materialistic. 

At his sister's softball games, he'd get $2 to spend on whatever.  He'd make 40 trips to the concession stand spending a quarter at a time.  (Don't check my math.  I'm close, though.)  He'd give me the loot to hold while he merely enjoyed the transactions.  I've seen him throw a box of tampons into the grocery cart just before check out to ensure that he got "something." 

Old, new, clean, dirty...he doesn't care.  He just likes getting "stuff."  Every time we go somewhere the first thing out of his mouth is "Can I get a toy?"  He is a retailer's dream come true!

Today, after lunch I took him and his sister to McDonald's for ice cream and to play.  I know, bad move.  But hell, it's 187 degrees outside!  I thought it would be a win-win.  Win, because I get to hang out in the A/C.  Win, they get to play and enjoy some ice cream in the A/C.  As soon as we get into the place, my son starts in about the freakin' Shrek watches that he doesn't have yet. 

Whatever...  You got a Shrek watch two days ago.  I'm sure before they are all gone, you will have acquired the rest of them.

Don't judge.  I know that Happy Meals are crap full of fat and grease.  Give me a break, please.  I do give them a multi-vitamin every day, for crying out loud.

Anywonderwhyshe'safatass, he started pouting.  My gut was telling me to turn around and walk out of the door, but lazy mom, my alter-ego, was saying "You've got 3 more hours to kill before Daddy gets home."  Lazy mom won! 

We went to the play area.  Shortly after removing his shoes, E came to me with a big, I-got-something-and-you-don't grin on his face.  I knew something was up.  Sure enough, behind his back was an effn' Puss-in-Boots watch.  He said he "found" it.  I told him to put it back.  He sulked away.

Instead of putting it back, however, he put it in his pocket!  He hid behind the slide, looked around to make sure I wasn't watching, then slid the damn watch in his freakin' pocket!  Of course I was watching as was some nosey old man sitting next to us.  "He put it in his pocket, Ma'am." 

Thanks, Mr. None of Your Business.  Oh, I didn't say it, but I wanted to.  Sorry, I still have the pissies, and I just wasn't in the mood. 

The highly coveted watch that led to his felonious offense...

OMG!  Where did he learn that???  I was freaking out.  See, this was not the first time I'd caught him stealing.  Once at the zoo he tried to steal a tiger ball because I told him he could only have one toy!  Needless to say, he got NOTHING but a severe cussin' a lecture about going to jail and a time out.

The toy at McDonald's was actually just left in the play area.  It didn't belong to anyone in the play area.  I checked.  But I gave it to the McDonald's worker because he was NOT getting it.  He cried the entire way home.

None of my parenting books address larceny.  I'm stumped.  Moms in Blogland, what would you do?  My first instinct is to take him for a visit to Juvy.  Give him a little "Scared Straight" therapy.  Do they make prison jumpsuits to fit five year olds???

A Poem: Ode to Pissy Cheeri-Os

I've got the flu,
The funk, if you will.
Or I'm dying of some crazy ears-nose-throat disease.
Any way you look at it,
I'm feeling pretty ill. 

I'm fat,
More specifically, I'm fatter.
I gained three pounds on vacation,
Hell, I'm dying any way,
So it doesn't really matter.

I haven't been to the gym in a week,
I feel like a blubbery slug.
The good news is, though,
A slow, painful death just might make me skinny as a mug.

To make matters worse,
Mother Nature's gift arrived.
Our fridge is finally dead,
But me?  I'm still alive.

Who pissed in my Cheeri-Os????

I HATE Hate

I feel like death on a cracker.  Literally.  I've been unable to sleep for the past two nights because my throat is freakin' KILLING me!  I've considered cutting off my head to stop the pain, but I'm afraid of dying.  I've got kids to corrupt rear; now is just not a good time for me.  K?

I guess that's why I'm so damn irritable.  I've got my panties in a wad today.  My feathers are ruffled.  Still, I am able to find some humor.  I try to never take myself too seriously.  I learned that the hard way.  As soon as you start to think you are all that and a bag of chips, you will walk out of the bathroom with your skirt tucked into your pantyhose.  Been there; done that.  I've got the t-shirt.

Now why can't the rest of you do the same????!!!???  Dammit, Man!  Quit hating!

Sorry, I'm not talking about you.  I'm only referring to Mr. Negativity and his girlfriend, Ms. Tight-Ass.  Honestly, why do some folks find it necessary to rant and rave about every freakin' thing?!?  Furthermore, how can they be so angry and full of hatred towards folks they do not even know?

For instance, I just saw someone on Facebook make a comment about how they hated the CEO of BP.  REALLY?!?  I'm as pissed as anyone about the oil spill in the Gulf.  Biloxi is my home.  The fishing and shrimping industries have always been vital to the economy down there.  That oil spill is effn' with the livelihood of some good, hard-working folks.  That really, really, REALLY sucks! 

But I don't hate Mr. CEO.  I really don't think when he heard of the explosion, he said, "Aw, screw it!  Those men who died can easily be replaced.  That oil spilling out into the Gulf is just a minor inconvenience.  I'm rich so I don't care.  Hell, I don't eat seafood any way."

Instead, I think his morning thoughts went more like this,  "HOLY SHIT!!!" 

I seriously doubt that he caused that explosion for kicks.  I'm going to go even further by saying that I don't believe he ever expected that their initial efforts at stopping the leak would fail.  Do I think he's done all he can to rectify the situation?  Hell, I don't know.  Maybe.  Maybe not.  He's probably done as much as most of us could do as individuals.  I don't have his job nor do I want it.  That oil spill is much bigger than one man.  Or one company, for that matter. 

Then I saw another comment that put me in a tizzy.  One person was talking about how much she HATES Obama.  I think her exact words were, "I hate Obama even more than I hated Bill Clinton!"  Really?!?  I didn't even know you were acquainted with either men.  Hmmm...  Did Obama's dog poop on your lawn or something?  Did Bill refuse to leave his DNA on your blue dress???  Or maybe he killed your first born with an ice pick? 

Before you start hating, let me add that I AM. NOT. A DEMOCRAT.  I'm not a Republican either.  I'm an economist who tries to base my vote on my assessment of the current economic health of the nation.  (Shut up.  I'm serious.)  Sometimes I'm right; sometimes I'm wrong.  NEVER, EVER do I vote for one because I HATE another.  How freakin' silly!  Oooh, don't vote for him.  He's got beady eyes and refuses to sing "Take Me Out to the Ball Game" during the 7th inning stretch.  Antichrist!!

Please, give me a break.  I'm sick of folks spewing hatred towards others for no apparent reason other than they have miserable lives and love to spread their misery.  Don't hate Mr. CEO because he has a 7 figure income.  Don't hate Obama because he's biracial and has non-Christian DNA in his body. *insert MORTIFIED GASP here* 

It is okay to dislike Mr. CEO's tactics or Mr. Obama's policies.  It is not okay to HATE them.  Neither of them have personally done anything to you!

That, my dear friends, is why I love blogging.  I can say what I want to say without being interrupted.  You may now proceed with your LB-bashing.  Just don't hate me because I'm beautiful!  Unless, of course, I let my dog poop on your lawn...

Uuuggghhh, I'm ill!  I'm totally reconsidering that beheading... 

Vacation Observations

We're on vacation on the Gulf of Mexico.  Unfortunately, my kids haven't allowed me much time for blogging.  It's been up at dawn and down at dusk with a bunch of screaming, fighting, and crying in between.  Yesterday, my daughter literally held onto my leg crying while I check my email!  Dammit, you are seriously affecting my blogosphere!

Because I don't want a repeat of yesterday, I will have to make it quick.  I just wanted to jot down a few thoughts regarding some of the things I observed while stalking people-watching at the beach.

• Teenage girls are much fatter than I remember.
• Moms of teenage girls are much thinner.
• Just because they make bikinis in XXXL, doesn't mean you should wear one.
• If the string of your string bikini is buried somewhere between your waist and the top of your thigh, wear a muu muu instead.
• Some folks are racist.
• Teeth are not luxury items and should never be optional.
• That pool must be full of pee because I haven't seen a single kid go to the potty.
• If you want to avoid an embarrassing injury, be sure to lift your butt when going down the water slide.
• People are more tolerant of those who are polite.
• One day, she will regret getting that tattoo of the Eiffel Tower down the side of her entire leg.
• Dragons and daggers (or Mickey Mouse, for that matter) are not good examples of tattoo art. 
• I wish the makers of body wax would include men in their target market.  Back hair is gross!
• Put on some sunscreen; you'll fry out here!
• Those pina coladas from the Tiki bar are pretty strong.
• Be kind and wait your turn.
• Restaurant food, regardless of the cost, does not taste better than home-cooking.
• Cellulite of every color is an eyesore.  Please cover up!
• Tweens or teens caught wrestling in the baby pool/play area should be shot on sight!
• Parties of 15 or more people are obnoxious.
• The muffin top should be banned.  (Not the one found on a tasty pastry; the one created by tight, low-rise pants and a massive midsection.)
• Ice cream should be calorie-free so I can eat it every day.
• Build-a-Bear is for the children of the rich and famous.
• MarmaDuke is very funny.
• Yellow Box flip flops are still just flip flops.
• I just don't get Guy Harvey.  I'm more of a Claude Monet girl.
• Sleeping 4 to a bed is never, ever comfortable!

And I still have four more days!  Now, if my kids will only allow me a few moments to report back...

Nice!!!  Saw her at the water park yesterday. 

My Absolutely, Positively Will Not Do List

OK, so I totally stole this from LiLu at Live It, Luv It but I'm sure she won't mind.  She got it from someone who got it from someone who got it directly from Oprah!  With all her miracle networks, book clubs, and life-saving missions to Ethiopia, who knew O still found time to be a diva of gargantuan proportions?!?  Only Steadman, I guess...

Though my charity resume pales in comparison, my diva-ishness does not.  I do have my limits, people!  Here are just a few of the things I absolutely, positively will NOT do: 

• Meat without the FDA or USDA stamp of approval.
• Housework, yard work, or any other kind of work for which I receive no compensation (including bedroom work).
• Bra-less.
• Speed limits.
• Thongs.
• Bikini waxes.
• Secrets.  (If you don't want anyone else to know, do NOT tell me.)
• Yard sales, thrift stores, or discount department stores like T.J. Maxx.  (I need organized.  My ADD will have me in a place like that for hours. touching everything.  Why am I here again???)
• Non-alcoholic cocktails.  I drink for one reason only, and it's not the taste. 
• Mushy, lovey-dovey, he's-hot-she's-not chick flicks.  *barf*
• Sex in the City, Desperate Housewives, Biggest Loser, American Idol, Extreme Makeover, or Dancing with the Stars.  *double barf* (1) Girls can't be that tight without being catty; 2) pathetic, pathetic, pathetic; 3) fat people and poor folks get all the luck; 4) I don't even listen to the radio; 5) how about someone give me five gazillion dollars to fix up my house; and 6) those washed up stars should have done a better job managing their money so it wouldn't be necessary to resort to such despicable means for exposure!)
• Small talk or chit-chat with folks I don't know.
• Rapists, pedophiles, serial killers, or meth cookers.
• Road trips lasting longer than 5-6 hours.
• 4 a.m. workouts (or any other thing at 4 a.m.).

Well, that was fun and liberating!  And here I was thinking I would do just about anything.  Apparently not!  Call me a diva, a tight ass, a bi-otch, a snob...just don't call me Mom!  I hear enough of that already...

What about you?  What's your list include???  With my circle of friends, I know I'm not the only diva in the bunch. 

'Fess up, sisters!

No, I'm Not Sick; I Lost My Voice Yelling at the Kids!

Day two of our "official" summer break, and I'm reminded why I am NOT a stay-at-home mother.  Phew, I love my kids.  I love them much more, though, when they spend about 8 hours of each day at school and/or daycare.  We have such a great time together when our together time is only 5 or so hours each afternoon.  Even are weekends are fun because there are two of us to corral the herd!  My husband and I have no choice but to be a team.  If not, those two preschoolers would eat us ALIVE!

Waaaa, Mama!  G pinched me!
What did you do to her?
I punched her in the head.
Well, then, you deserved it.  Stop crying and LEAVE! HER! ALONE!

G, stop pestering the dog.
But Mommy..I'm trying to get him dressed for the tea party.
Bubba is old and cranky.  He doesn't like dresses.
Then can he wear pants??

E, get out of the water.
I'm washing my cars, Mama.
Your cars don't need washing.  Turn off the water!
But, but, but...blah, blah, blah.
TURN!  OFF!  THE WATER!

G, let come here so Mama can brush your hair.
*giggle*
*the sound of G crawling under my bed*
Come on now, G.  We're going to be late.
*giggle*
G!  GET!  IN!  HERE!  RIGHT NOW!
*giggle*

Mommy, can I go to Walmart for a new toy?
No, you have plenty of toys.
Please!  It's Mario Day!
Memorial Day.  No toys!
Waaahh, I want a new toy!
Take a time out, Mister!
Waaahh!  Then I'm not giving you your favorite treat -- a hug and a kiss!

E, give that to me right now.
But it's mine!
No, it's mines! (ebonics compliments of our Section 8 daycare)
Mine!
*Push*
Mines!
*Pinch*
Waaaa, Mama!  G pinched me!

Lucky for me (and them) laughter is the best medicine for all that ails you.

*Me staring at my buck nekked 5 year old in the backyard*
E, put your clothes back on right now!
But Mom, I'm going swimming.
We don't strip off our clothes in the yard, Mister.
Will you bring me my swimming soup then? 

*E hears music at the members party at the zoo* 
Wait!  Stop!  It's Miley Jackson! 
*dancing and doing his best rendition of Michael Jackson's "Thriller"*
Friller, friller na,
na, na, na, bah, bah, BAAHH!

Please, please, please, Mommy!  Will you make some pants for my little mouse? 
(We're talking a teeny, tiny mouse figurine from the Cinderella set at the Disney Store.)
I don't think I can.  He's very, very small!
Please, Mama! *with extreme desperation in her voice* 
He doesn't have any pants!

Mama, can we go to Party City?
Why do you want to go to Party City, E?
Because they bring a party to life!(The kid watches entirely too much TV.)

Looking out my window as I blog, I see a beautiful, hilarious sight -- my son and his crack on the Slip-n-Slide!  Ok, so my summers are a bit more stressful...but the memories (and blogger fodder) are totally worth it!  (-;

Notice the neighbor who never goes home.  She doesn't have a swimming "soup."  That's a whole 'nother blog...