Wednesday, April 30, 2008

Tuesday, April 29, 2008

How I Met My Honey...

How did I meet my husband? Ahh, what a story. We were both stranded in an airport during a large snowstorm and there was only one room left at the only hotel near the airport and... No, not really.

We worked together.

We both were employed by the same national pharmacy chain. He was a rookie pharmacist and I was a pharmacy technician turned manager trainee. We met at a store where he was training as a new pharmacist with the company. I hung out there a lot in my off time (loser, I know) because many of my friends worked there. One evening I stopped in for a quick visit and he was there and our eyes locked and the rest is... Nope. Nothing so magical. One evening I stopped in for a visit and met him and thought, he's kinda cute for a nerdy pharmacist. (That is also what I wrote in my journal that night, too.) I hung out until closing time and we ended up walking to our cars together and I gave him every chance in the world to ask me out or make a move but, alas, he did not seem even a wee bit interested.

So, I went home and thought little of him from that night on. That is, until I was asked to go work in a town about an hour and half from where I was living at the time. I knew from the grapevine that this is the store RxMan also worked in. He seemed really nice and at least he was a semi-familiar face and close to my age. I phoned him at work and asked him some questions about the area (I was going to move there) and he was utterly clueless as to who I was. I guess I made quite an impression, right?

I moved into my new digs (a dreadful little apartment with scary neighbors but all I could afford on my meager salary) on Thanksgiving Day and began working the next at my new store. RxMan and I worked together quite often and, as a former tech, I was a big help to him in the pharmacy. We made plans, only as friends, to go to dinner a few days after I started at the store. I was interested in him but got the impression he was not; friends worked for me because I was new to the area.

We went to the Olive Garden and ate like pigs. (Seriously. He was a friend, not a date so I didn't worry about it.) We talked and laughed and really had a great time. I thought he was a really swell guy and was going to make a great friend and I was thrilled with that. Then we went back to his really, really nice and safe apartment and watched Independence Day and drank an awful lot of alcohol.

Alcohol and two people in their early twenties? Yeah. You know where this is going, don't you?

I remember doing shots and remarking that there was no way I was going to be able to drive home even though it was barely a mile away. He assured me I could sleep on the couch. Again, the alcohol told me that he surely wasn't an ax murderer or serial killer.

Then we were standing in his tiny kitchen and we locked eyes and the next thing I know he kisses me. Really. It was one of those fireworks kisses where your stomach dances and your heart races and your breathing becomes shallow. It was really a great kiss.

I stayed that night. (Not on the couch but no hanky panky either. I swear!) In fact, I didn't ever sleep in my dingy, scary apartment again.

And that is how I met my husband.

For more stories like this, go here.

Monday, April 28, 2008

Mother In Law Day

One of my favorite moms and mom bloggers, MamaGeek, reminded me this morning that Mother's Day is nearly upon us. Ugh. You know what that means? I have to send something to my husband's mother. Ugh.

I don't hate Mother's Day. I am a mom and like the freakish things that my kid makes at school and my husband is a great gift giver and I get nice things. (Aside: does anyone out there still not think of Mother's Day as a holiday for YOU? When I think of Mother's Day, I still think of my mom and about making her day special not how good my day will/will not be. Am I alone or just crazy?) I love to buy stuff for my mom, too.

But, then there is the MIL from Hell. Really! She drives a broom and everything. *snickering evilly* This is the woman who made my family (me, husband, two kids) robes. Yep. Homemade robes. (if you're new here, it really is worth the clicks. Seriously.) She gives Tweety Bird Chia Pets for gifts, as well as pendant necklaces with the wrong letter.

She and her husband (otherwise known as Antichrist; heard of him?) haven't seen my almost sixteen month old son since he was 2 weeks. Did I mention she's not a fan of me? Or my husband? Or my kids?

But, because I think it is important that she not be able to say to the rest of their family that we don't acknowledge them at holidays, I send something. I try to send nice things because the crap she sends here? It goes to that special place in the landfill for the worst gifts ever (not really. Usually Goodwill.). So, it is upon me again. Ugh.

I have taken to sending gift cards to department stores for two reasons. One, obviously, super easy! No thought! No postage! And, two, she loathes gift cards. And I mean loathes. Like, she makes passive aggressive remarks in her letters about gift cards are "gifts without thought" and "who wants to receive gift cards?"

And, do you know how hard it is to find a Mother's Day card that isn't gushy? One that doesn't drip with Hallmark sentiment and forced affection? I have actually printed off generic cards on my printer before because I was unable to find one with the appropriate lack of warmth. I have, by golly.

So, I've been thinking. Perhaps we should start a new holiday. One for those of us who must deal with women who raised our wonderful husbands but drive brooms and are employed by and/or are married to Satan. This day could be a day where we really get to say and do all of those things we hold back in deference to the men in our lives. I could tell my MIL she's ugly. I could tell her to quit referring to herself as Grandma to my children in the cards she mails because she is not worthy of the title. I could show her this blog!

So, whaddaya say? Are you in?

Friday, April 25, 2008

Haiku: Thanks, Friend

Tax Swap gift from Wright
Shea butter lotion, cd,
Socks that moisturize!

What a fun surprise
"Celebration" of tax day
Cool present, new friend

It was a fun experience to swap gifts in honor of April 15th. I got the nicest box of goodies from Wright wrapped in the loveliest colors. It was a welcome ray of sunshine on a day when I needed it. The lotion is awesome and the socks? Divine! The cd was made just! for! me! and is Wright's favorite Carla Bruni and I! Love! It!

Thanks, Wright, for a thoughtful and lovely gift!

Tuesday, April 22, 2008

What's In A Name?

My son has upwards of thirty words. (Yes, I am keeping track because I know this is going to be asked at his upcoming well visit.) He says "no," "ball," "kitty cat" and several others. Of course, we think he is a genius and applaud all of his new utterances.

Unfortunately, though, he has one word that he will not say: "daddy."

He said "dada" right on track and it continued until around his first birthday but somewhere along the line, my husband became "Mommy," too. At first, we just laughed and passed it off. My daughter had a thing for a while where she called my husband "Daddymommy" and it passed nearly as quickly as it came.

"Mommy" really seems to be sticking with the boy, though. I am "Mommy" and so is my husband and my daughter. She, of course, loves it and enjoys the special name. When the kid really wants me he says "Momma" and I know he means me. But when he wants his dad: "Mommy!"

It didn't bother my husband until recently. We have had several situations where in public my son shouts "Mommy" and clearly wants my husband or his attention. This embarrassed RxMan. I think it sort of emasculated him and you know how men are about their penises. *sigh*

So, we have begun Operation ReTeach Him To Say Daddy. And so far? It is failing miserably. My husband has tried not responding to him until he says "Daddy" but if he stuck to his guns, the kid would never be held by his dad again. In the past few weeks, I have heard him say something along the lines of "daddy" once and it was at a whisper and I am not absolutely sure that is what he said.

We've tried "daddy", "papa", "father" and "dad" but the kid insists on "MOMMY" and usually in all caps. Yeah. That makes my husband ever so proud and secure in his manhood. I think the boy just has his signals crossed and truly thinks his dad's name is MOMMY, like his sister's and his, well, his other mommy.

So, I come to you, internetz, some of the savviest mommas I know to share ideas on how to whip this little bugger into shape or at least share a laugh at my husband's expense with me. Any ideas on how to get the kid to call a spud a spud?

Friday, April 18, 2008

Haikuing Tantrums

Nearly sixteen months
Temper tantrums have arrived
Loud screaming, crying

Hitting began, too
Seems a switch thrown: bad to worse
What's a mom to do?

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

Monday, April 14, 2008

The One About Naming the Mini Horse

I know, crazy title. This might be a crazy post but I need your help. Well, not really me, but my prospective namesake does.

Okay, from the top.

I received a comment from Up To My Ears In Mini Horses congratulating me on my new look. So, I followed up and went to her site (coincidentally, this is Nap's mother) to thank her for the kind words.

When I arrived, I discovered that this was really a site about miniature horses (I never claimed to be the brightest bulb in the box) and she had had an unexpected birth that day, which was March 29, and the new horse (filly? foal? colt?) needed a name.

March 29th was my birthday so I jokingly commented that she should name it after me.

A few days later, NapWarden left a comment that the horse was actually being called Toni. Can you believe it? Isn't that just the coolest thing EVAH??

There's a catch, though.

Horses aren't just called Toni. Or Steve. Or Esther. They have groovy names like Afternoon Delight, Kiss Me Kate, Stormy Weather and Kibbles & Bits. So, this horse must be names Toni Something or Something Toni; Toni must be in the name.

So, I am coming to you, my savvy, wonderful readers. Please help UpToMyEars name this little Toni in a name befitting a majestic little horse. Click here to see her picture; isn't she just the cutest mini horse ever? I am so proud...

So, sock it to me. What should Toni's real name be?? (Of course, I will pass this info on.)

Friday, April 11, 2008

Shanghaied by Ants!

Ants came marching in
And took over my kitchen
Pesky devils, ick

They hit pay dirt here
Goldfish crackers, cereal
Scattered here and there

Now forced to clean up
All the messes, spills on the floor
Take away their food

I don't like to clean
Hate to do floors, dust and scrub
Detestable ANTS!
See more haiku here!

Wednesday, April 9, 2008

Tuesday, April 8, 2008

I Want My Drink Back!

When you are a mother of an older child or not a mother at all, you forget to relish the small things. Like a good night's sleep. Or an uninterrupted shower. Or a drink. Now, I am not not talking about alcohol, although that's pretty wonderful, too, I am talking about a glass of water, soda (for MamaGeek I say soda, 'cause she teased me for saying pop) or lemondade.

Yes, I had forgotten that having a little one means you never get to have your own drink again.

My son, now fifteen months, sees me with a glass- even an empty one- and starts saying, "yum, yum, yummies". I can be emptying the freakin' dishwasher and the kid sees a glass in MY hand and thinks he needs to drink out of it.


I know I shouldn't allow him to drink after me- halitosis and germs and stuff- but, seriously, sometimes the fight is all gone in me. If letting him backwash into my water and spit it all over himself gives me a moment without him climbing me or shouting "MOMMA", then backwash away, kid.

It has been months since I have had a glass of water ('cause I do not let the little angel have soda pop 'cause I may be bad but I don't SUCK) outside of my kitchen, usually I'm crouched behind a cupboard or hidden behind the fridge door.

I guess having a drink in peace is another thing I forfeit in order to have this in my life:

Monday, April 7, 2008

Mommy Needs A Nap, Too

My son has become a very random napper. He naps once a day but rarely twice. Sometimes he naps in the morning for 2-3 hours. Others, he waits and naps late morning into the early afternoon. I am not particularly pleased, of course, with him being down to only napping once a day at fifteen months (this began around 13 months) but I can handle it.

Until Sunday.

He napped early on Sunday, from 8-10AM. I was pretty thrilled with this because a nap that early often means two naps! Score!

Well, that's not what happened.

Of course.

He was very pleasant at church but began to tire after lunch. I did all the normal naptime things to encourage a rest but he resisted. I knew it was bad but I can't make him nap, y'know?

Well, by 5PM, we sunk into frantic, exhausted baby mode. He was whining and unhappy and needy. I was frazzled. I was tired. I NEEDED a break.

I shouted at him and scared him half to death when he took the trash bag out of the can in the bathroom and I knew then that he wasn't the only one who needed that nap.

I did, too.

I needed that time to decompress. And eat. And sit on the couch and not worry about taking care of him. I needed time to read the newspaper and check email without a child banging on the keyboard or whining "Momma" the entire time I did it.

By the time my husband arrived home from work, I was spent. I had cried while doing the baby's asthma treatment and just threw my hands in the air and walked away from the carrots that he had thrown all over the floor. I didn't even care that we were all going to walk in them. Really.

This makes me appreciate the fact that when my husband is home, he is very devoted to taking care of our kids (& playing Wii, of course); he feeds them, bathes them, cleans up after them. I really and truly don't think I could function for long periods of time without his help. I don't know how single moms (& dads) do it. I am such a wuss and can hardly deal with the weekends that my husband works, let alone to be by myself 24/7. Single parents are stronger than I.

Whoever said having kids was easy is CRAZY. Certifiably insane. And needs their butts totally kicked.

Friday, April 4, 2008

Haiku Did That Happen?

My boy was fifteen
months yesterday! How is that?
Where'd my baby go?

He walks, runs and shrieks
He climbs and jumps like a champ
I swear he's cursing

A year ago I
wished for him to grow
but not now! Please stop!

Nursing is over
So many milestones
Now he's a toddler )-:

Read more Haiku Friday posts.

Wednesday, April 2, 2008

Wordless Wednesday: Brother & Sister Love

To view more Wordless Wednesday, go here.

Tuesday, April 1, 2008

Birthdays & Wiidowhood

My birthday was Saturday and it was a good day.

I got presents (earrings, a Pandora bracelet and charms, gift cards).

I got cake.

And, most importantly, I got my hair colored. (Just because I am eeking up on middle age doesn't mean I have to be sporting the gray, y'know.)

It was a pretty good day. Thanks to all you wonderful blog friends for your birthday wishes; you girls rock! (:

In other news, the Wii is set up.

And I am a Wiidow.

It's true.

My husband was up at 5! AM! Saturday morning playing Wii.

He and my daughter played before church on Sunday, after church and I had to physically remove the nunchucks and controllers from their hands last night before I tucked them in.

Of course, this morning both the big boy and the little girl woke up with Wii tennis elbow and numerous other Wii-induced aches and pains. Ibuprofen was passed out all around.

They are both on Wii time outs until their current disabilities heal up because work and school must come before Wii playing. (Man, am I a witch, or what?)

Also, my house pretty much finished the trip to Disasterville thanks to that little machine.

I am already wondering why I invited it into my home....*sigh*