Honk for Happiness!!!!

Sunday late afternoon and I'm on my way home from an Open House. An Open House that I, as a Realtor, hosted. And let me tell ya, I am one hell of a hostess. Let me back up a bit. I hold an open house every Sunday for various properties. I usually know about a week in advance what house I will be at. So during the week before the Open I'll create Market Updates for the neighborhood and hand deliver them to about 75 homes in the area. Then on the Friday before the Open House I will deliver Invitations to the same 75 homes letting them know about the Open House and Refreshments, and "come meet your neighbors", and blah, blah, blah! Come Sunday I leave a couple hours early so I can purchase cookies, and some kind of cheese and cracker platter. I have a big tin bucket of waters with the original label peeled off and my label slapped on (basically my business card in sticker form. God, I really sound like an ass-hole, don't I?)! I get to the house after putting out all my "OPEN HOUSE" signs and proceed to open all the doors, turn on all the lights, and set up the refreshments complete with cute little argyle paper napkins. Usually, I don't mind doing this AT ALL! In fact, I used to really enjoy it! But here's the reality: NOBODY COMES! All those neighbors that I've invited stay in their air conditioned homes while I sweat, try to keep flies of the food, and eat way too many cookies! Even on busy days, no one eats the food or takes the waters!!! I can't figure it out! Anyway, on this particular day I had gone to all this trouble with the food and water and whatnot. I did my hair and make-up, put on my dress and my heels and my smile and really felt like Barbie trying to sell the Barbie Dream House. Fake and plastic given how pissed off I was at the turn out! So I'm driving home with a tin full of waters and a platter of sweating cheese, soft crackers, and hardened meat to feed my family. As I approach a red light I notice a group of people holding up signs on the corners of either side of the street. I'm expecting some kind of Car Wash to support Your Local Chapter of Something or Other but no.....It's a group of girls with big stupid grins on their faces holding home-made signs asking motorists to Honk for Happiness! They have painted flowers and peace signs and all kinds of out-dated shit all over these signs and they look so fucken stupid I can't believe it! And I thought I was the ass-hole. I look over at the opposite corner and lo and behold there's another group doing the same thing! Except this group has something a little extra special! A boy in a straw hat and guitar! He's so goddamned happy I could shoot him! The whole scene tickles my funny bone. The absurdity of it makes me want to laugh but I don't dare smile outright because I don't want them to think they've accomplished anything with ME! I don't know about you, but I only honk when I'm pissed!

Pet Peeve

I have, what one (my husband) might call, an obsession with our cat Max. Oh sure, we have other pets. We have a crazy cat named Sunny and a psycho dog named Lily. Sunny has been so afraid of our family since we got her that she has shit herself out of fear! Once we had to take her to the animal ER because her labored breathing woke us up in the middle night. Turns out she has "kitty asthma." Like it's something cute! This little incident happened the night before we were supposed to be on a plane. We had a friend who was going to be taking care of the cats but we ended up having to board Sunny due to the meds she was to be fed twice a day. See, if we (her family) can't even pet her, it's highly unlikely that she's going to allow a stranger to administer medication! Anyway, I'm getting off track here. MAX!!! Max was our first cat as a family. We adopted him from the animal shelter. He was just a kitten and he had a scar on his head by his ear and a crooked jaw. The boys and I fell in love with him immediately. Once we adopted him we had to wait 2 weeks before we could bring him home. The shelter had to get him all prepped for us. Neutering, shots, etc. When we finally got him home he had a little cold and, I swear, we wiped that freakin cats' nose every time it ran! We snuggled him and coddled him and he has no idea that we aren't fellow cats or that he's not a fellow human. He's just part of the family. HOWEVER! Max has some quirks! For example, I switched to a cheaper litter one time. At first I thought I wasn't drying my laundry very well because I kept finding that it was damp when I would go to fold it. But when the couch was damp and it had that all-too-familiar stench of pneumonia I knew it was Max being finicky! I haven't changed litter since nor do I dare skip a day cleaning out the litter box! That's misdemeanor is worthy of a dump in the middle of the floor! Due to Maxes persnickety behaviour, my husbands feelings toward him........ have coooooled. He can't stand that William and I love him so much we could eat. him. up! He smells like maple syrup I tell you! Maple Syrup!!!! He is so fat and fluffy and cute and delicious!!! So the other night we had guests. We always shut our bedroom door when we have guests: A)because our room is always a fucken mess and we don't want anyone to see it, and B)because we don't want any kids going in there to play hide-n-seek or whatever! On this particular evening the cats happened to be locked in there. Sunny was happy as a clam. She's scared stiff of her family; guests only make her "asthmatic!" So after a lovely evening, Chris and I head up to bed. We change into our PJs and while Chris is in the bathroom peeing I start to get into bed. I sit down on my side and find, right by my pillow, a big heap of shit! MAX! I know it's Max, I know that cat like I know my own kids! And, like with my own kids, my first reaction is to protect. Trust me, he pee'd on our bed one time and I witnessed my husband throwing a mattress across the room at a cat. Something I hope I never see again! So, I casually got some TP, scooped up the poop, flushed it in another toilet, and (this is where it gets a little weird) contemplated whether or not I could now sleep on my side of the bed! As I am surveying the damage to sheets, Chris comes out of the bathroom. Just as he's getting into bed I hear "goddammit! Sunny puked on the bed!" I look over to see a big lump of puke on Chris' side of the bed! Sunny is our puker so there is no doubt about her guilt. It's at this moment of discovery that I've decided I can't sleep on poopy sheets and I'm angry with Max. I fess up to his bad behaviour and we are able to strip the bed with not much more than some cursing. The next day I went right back to worshipping Max (he's a goddamn angel, i tell ya) but Chris gave him stink eye for at least a week! We did come up with a funny scenario to describe how it all went down. The cats are trapped in our room. Max is pacing, telling Sunny in meows how bad he has to take a dump! She is now fretting and getting very nervous! She knows very well what Max is capable of and that he could get them both in some very hot water with the humans! "Don't do it Max!" she meows desperately. "I'm prairie doggin'" howls Max. And in true cat manner he jumps up on his owner's bed to he can show them exactly how unfair they've been. He squats, Sunny's sick with worry, and he lays a deuce! Sunny's stomach succumbs to her nerves and she hurls! Of course, she didn't get in trouble. We knew it was all Maxes fault. And the next day he resumed his King-of-the-castle demeanor while she hid under the bed for a week!

Adoption: Words don't fail me now!

Twenty one years ago my husband made a painful choice. He and his girlfriend placed (i don't know the correct or respectful term here! i've been online all morning trying to figure out the best way to word this) their daughter up for adoption. It was a terrible heartache for Chris and continues to be. HOWEVER, she, Heather (doesn't she have a beautiful name?) has been raised by such an amazing, generous, and loving family that we can't help but feel thankful. We have the good fortune to spend time with her every summer. It doesn't hurt that we live in California. If we lived in Minnesota it might be different (she knows i'm teasing...) She comes out and stays with us for about a week and we have a great time. Now here's the dilemma, I have no idea what to call her!!! Chris and I are under no delusion that she's our daughter. Obviously, I had nothing to do with her birth but we understand that we also had nothing to do with her being raised and we firmly feel that her parents (adoptive parents, chosen parents, or whatever the PC terminology is) ARE her parents. We would never want to take away from that or diminish it in any way! However, our boys think of her as their sister. Do you see my issue?! My husband is the birthfather, I'm the woman he's married to, and our children are her birthsiblings (?). We all love her with our whole hearts and miss her when she's gone back home. But what is she to all of us as a family unit? Without offending her or her parents or her sisters, what can we refer to her as?

DIY: Disaster Inflicted by You

I am a lazy person by nature. It's reflected in my housekeeping and laundry baskets. When I was a kid my mom used to clean the house every weekend. That was her weekend. I remember I would lay on the living room floor with her and listen to music while she took a quick break. It seemed normal enough. Funny thing is, I was never assigned any chores. That was because I wasn't going to vacuum/dust/do the dishes the way she would so she would rather just do it herself. This was FINE by me! And when she poo poo'd the neighbor down the street for, horror of all horrors, only cleaning when guests were coming I was right there shaking my head in DISGUST! What. A. Slob! HA! I am the neighbor down the street man! You're pretty freakin' special if I clean the house for you! I see a pile of laundry and then I see my book. I choose the book. I see a dirty toilet and then I see Pinterest! I choose the computer. I will be damned if I'm going to spend my weekend cleaning house and it shows. If you know me, you don't expect clutter free stairs and floors you can eat off of. I'm a happy hostess and I love company and I love to cook for you and make you your favorite cocktail but I really don't want to do much more than what makes me happy! This has taken me almost 40 years to admit and be comfortable with. I used to think I'd be a GREAT housewife because I could keep the house clean, make a mean dinner, and then roll around in the sack for the better part of the evening! Well, I have come to terms with the fact that I don't like to clean.....ANYWAY!!!! Some things have changed. Or, rather, I am now honest with myself. My husband on the other LOVES and thinks we both LOVE do-it-yourself home projects. I'm not talking fun little "let's make a shelf out of reclaimed wood" projects. Or "let's turn all of our saved up milk cartons and make super creepy cute ghosts for Halloween!" either! I'm talking "Let's demolish the whole fucking bathroom, with no plan, and redo it in a weekend!"....(or a year. Maybe two.) Our most recent project is the home office. A completely dysfunctional room with shit everywhere! The first step was to get everything out of the office. That was depressing because I felt as though the camera crew from Hoarders: Buried Alive was right around the corner. So now all of our skeletons are out of the proverbial closet and in the hallway, the kid's rooms, the family room, and the living room. Have I mentioned that, although I hate to clean, I also hate a mess. Even more than a mess, I hate chaos. I know, I know. I am a contradiction and that is another thing I and those around me have to accept. The situation is maddening. We have the office down to the bare nothing. No furniture, no flooring, and in some areas no wall! If you've ever done home improvements of this sort you know to add a week to your estimated time frame. Every time you cut, screw, or remove you unearth a whole new project. This little gem was supposed to be done over memorial day weekend. We are still working on it!!! My husband, thank god for this man, had literally put blood, sweat, and a lot of sighs of misery (sorry, no tears. That's me) into this project. He seems tireless and motivated. I can't help the fact that building a barn door, taking down and putting back up dry wall, mudding and taping drywall, wet sanding, texture spraying, painting, laying thin set, laying Schluter-Ditra, laying tile, more painting are a lethal combination to my psyche! But here's the best part! This little blog is coming full circle and I love it when that happens, don't you? The best part is, during all this DIY, I have never been so thankful for a toilet to clean, laundry to be folded, dishes to be washed, or a school project to be done. NEVER have I been so relieved for the distraction! The bottom line is: There are blessings in everything! Dontcha think?

Dr. Shivious & The Spectacle

As much as I gripe about the day in and day out of motherhood, my kids often catch me off guard and impress the hell out of me with their imagination and inventiveness.  Just one of these instances can erase a month full of agitation and grief!


One such example is Dr. Shivious.  Dr. Shivious is a character the boys created. He's a bumbling psychiatrist who really knows nothing about his chosen profession.  He cracks jokes and makes fun of his patients (obviously he's played by Nick!).  When it's time to get serious, Dr. Shivious will ask his patient (William) what the problem is and William will confess, "Well, Dr. Shivious, I've just been really down lately. I think I'm depressed."  Dr. Shivious, rather than get to the heart of the matter, will exclaim with great self satisfaction, "Yes you are!" and that will be the end of the session.  This is all being recorded by the Flip camera they have set up on some nearby table. For why would one create such amusement unless it could be shared with all on Youtube?!

Most recently, Dr. Shivious sat down with Zach Bagans from Ghost Adventurers.  He confirmed that Zach is in fact a tool!



So last night William heard an advertisement on TV for The View.  He decided a show called The Spectacle might make for a funny parody. (maybe they're watching too much SNL....) Anyway, he wrote his news report, they set up the Flip, and they proceeded to film The Spectacle.


"Hello there and welcome tooooooooo The Spectacle! I'm William and THIS is our top story of the night!




-A young kitten is accused of physically abusing a butterfly on someones front lawn. Witnesses say the kitten was defending himself, therefore no charges will be pressed.


In other news tonight:


-A man in Wisconsin gets his finger stuck in a coin slot while digging for change"


I think Nick just sits there looking cute and laughing at William because, truth be told, Nick is rarely able to stay up late enough for SNL so he has no material.


So there it is!  All the griping rights that motherhood affords me is offset by the occasional bragging rights it affords me!

food for thought:

"They put Money in their hearts and God where their mouth is"

All in the first week back to school

Well, the holiday break is over and as much as I truly love having my kids home, it was time for them to go back to school.  I needed to get out of that lazy day fog and kick my butt in gear for the new year. But this little blog isn't about me (not directly anyway).  It's about the cruelty of homework after a long winters nap!

I have two boys in elementary school.  A 5th grader and a 6th grader.  Today we are going to be studying the 5th grader and his homework habits.  A real in depth view of what goes on behind the closed doors of my home after the school bell rings dismissal!

It usually starts in the car.  But that's just because I want to prepare the kids for what they already know but seem to forget EVERY day!  After the pleasantries of seeing each other again after their 6 hour tour, I gently and happily (remember that plastic smile I always hold) remind them,


"Homework and chores first! Then the rest of the day is yours!"


I get the obligatory groans in response and we toot along all they way up the street to our house.  During this 3 minute trip home my boys are energetic, talkative, full of verve!


It's funny tho.  The trip from the car to the front door usually causes my 5th grader great discomfort.  He's been known to come down with a gut wrenching stomach ache, pounding headache, or some other distracting malady that requires him to lay on the couch doing absolutely NOTHING!


My kids honestly believe I don't know them!


Of course I don't fall for it (another surprise to my children) and order him up and to the table to lay out and organize the homework!  This can take an hour.  I'm not kidding.  From the couch to the table are a variety of furry, bouncy, shiny distractions.  A cat, a football, and piece of plastic.  All requiring the attention of the child who just a minute ago was wracked with pain!


In the meantime, I've started making snacks and my 6th grader has his homework laid out. Although he doesn't exactly dive in, he's at least further along in the process.  Thank god!  I know he'll get it done with little help from me which leaves me plenty of time to focus on the challenge at hand. The 5th grader!


After he's spent a good 20min torturing the cat (he still thinks Max batting at him is Max being playful), 5min throwing the football in the house (which he's told AGAIN not to do), and 15 more min making a shank out of that piece of plastic, he finally finds his way to the table.  It takes another 10min to find and pull all his homework out.  About 7min to clean up everything that fell out of his backpack (erasers, library books, an old lunch, a beanie,.....a bb gun?) before he sits down at the table.  At this point he usually lays his head down on his arm and reclaims his pain from earlier.  If it's his stomach I tell him his snack is almost ready to just get started.


My smile has been wiped clean.  I've been sweetly coaxing him to the table for 57 min now and I'm exhausted.  My 6th grader is triumphantly claiming he has just one more thing to do before he's finished for the day and really wants his brother to go toss the football with him.  I glare at my oldest because he knows as well as I do that his brother hasn't even started yet and the thought of tossing the football is going to cause a great deal of anxiety to now get his homework done fast!


Fast = Mistakes

And so it goes....


Hours of whining, stomach aches, snacks to help the stomach ache, bathroom trips, water breaks, "I need something from upstairs" breaks, "I'm just so tired" complaints, back pains, "can you cut this fingernail? It's bugging me" breaks, and furry, bouncy, shiny distractions!


I've yelled and given myself time outs.  I've given into the idea of letting him fail and talked myself out of it a million times. I've questioned my decisions and choices for this child.  Worried about his future and my present!  All in the matter of an afternoon!  All in the first week back to school!