Destin-ation Unknown

Originally uploaded by dooce

If you listen closely you can hear me putting my Wonder Woman outfit away...why?...because we made it! What you ask? Keith's 8-day departure is what and we lived to tell!! It was an arduous and relentless trip for him, but he came back with a brain full of skillz to pay da billz. And, as for us...we kept busy, which is not hard for me to do. I mean, have you been around a 3 year old boy and a 1 year old boy?!?! We even squeezed in an Astros game (Me, Kale, Justin and Nathan...sorry KD). It's nice to have KD home. While he was gone, both of my hands had a tight grip on this life of ours here at home...now, I can let go a little and put one hand in his. It's so nice to see your smile KD, oh how I missed it!

*Update: We totally got drunk (on wine, does that count? No? I didn't think so.) and watched The Bachelorette last night. It was a doozie! Oh, DeAnna...he was a weirdo, but now look what you have left! They need to incorporate a "DEAL" option, like Solitaire, so she can start over. She had slim pickins' IMO. Maybe it can stay interesting...

***

As soon as Keith got back we both shared a big sigh of relief and our thoughts met when we confirmed that, yeah...we could use a vacation. Don't tell Kale, but school is already cramping our style.
Our hopes of a 2nd annual Labor Day trip to Destin, FL is looming in the near future. Because for the love of everything holy, pictures like this one (above), haunt me when I lay my head on my pillow. But, now we have to figure in his school. Bah. Kale may just go to his first day of school reaking of day old sunblock, a backpack full of sand and parents in desperate need of a nap. I hope they won't hold it against him.

Reading Rainbow

The rampage is over. My visitor has arrived and now I'm just tired. I have no fight left. I have a good book though and it takes most of my free time. I love good reads. The book is "A Dirty Job" by Christopher Moore. I found it at Half Price Books. The same place that Kale's world was complete when he got a blue gumball from the gumball machine.

Kale looked at my book and the cover has a baby "Death" in a bassinet type stroller. Not really kid material. He said "oh, a baby pirate". Yup, a baby pirate. "I can read!" he says. "Okay, here I'll read...I say "You killed her," Charlie screamed as he stormed by the racks of CDs toward the man in mint. He drew the sword as he ran, or tried to, hoping to bring it out in a single fluid movement from the cane sheath and across the throat of Rachel's killer..."... he lost interest and turned back towards Oswald on Noggin. I don't blame him. Hey, they say "Read to your child 15 minutes a day" they don't say what to read.

It's late and I'm off to read my baby pirate book.

Medical Intervention Needed: A Pre-Menstrual Post #1

Hold onto your britches 'cause I am on a roll. Hot damn!

It's that time of the month again (well, almost time) and my hormones literally take control of my whole being. If I had my choice, I'd be able to walk around during these days with a large ICEE always within arms reach to dump on top of people's heads. Yes, that puts a smile on my face. See? I go from happy, happy, happy to fuck you, fuck you and fuck you very much. It all depends on when you catch me.

You'd think I'd learn from my experience of posting on other popular blogs (open wide and insert foot) that that I'd mind my own business and let other mentally well-balanced people express their opinion. Nope. A blog that I read on occasion, one of which makes me laugh and am a fan of (I swear), posted a story that I felt was wonderfully written, but elementary. Granted I could NEVER write a story that well, I felt slighted because he is a professional blogger, soon to be published author and well, I expected more dammit. And now here comes the wave (it's a small wave, almost miniscule) of regret from opening my big mouth. I could save myself so much heartache (in all facets of my life) if I just learned how to SHUT THE FUCK UP. Here's my post:

I think you're a great writer. A big imagination. I see the humor...really I do. But, in real life, I don't think the clerk would give a fuck...cause not a big deal. The set-up was entertaining though. Posted by: Michelle June 21, 2008

Email: nunya@hotmail.com

I know. But, c'mon. It's far fetched and plays out like a poorly written Mad TV skit. Do you think that really happened? I doubt it. I'm not trying to police this post, but I'm at a heightened bullshit alertness right now (Homeland Security should work on an advisory system for that) and there should be a disclaimer if shit is made up. That way I don't feel the need to call BULLSHIT on a story. Am I sorry? Highly questionable at this point. And if he did do that...then he's a dickhead.

And, yes, I already emailed the teacher. What?

Here he is. In all his glory. My little school boy. Well, it's a short summer fun day camp (4 days in all), but it's the first. As you know, he starts in the Fall (Tues/Thurs), but for a whole school year. I signed him up for this summer thing so he'd get a small introduction before August. Hopefully it'll leave him wanting more and will be excited about school. So far, so good.

On Wednesday, he didn't jump outta bed and ask to go to school, nor did he mention it before we did. I, of course, was one phone call away from yanking him out. He doesn't like it. My baby prefers his time at home. He'll have plenty of "school" time in the future. In fact, I'll cancel the Fall, too, I want him home with me. Then the evening came and he saw me preparing his lunch for Thursday. He lit up. I vant peenutbuttahsamwich, chips, cheese and gwapes. And then he wanted it. Right then. I convinced him it was for tomorrow and he cooperatively put it into the fridge for safekeeping.

He bust out of his room on Thursday and declared he was weddy fuh skool. We took him in, watched him say hello to the teachers, put his backpack up, waved goodbye and then asked for a kiss. Please. Can we get a kiss? Hello? (speaking through the crack of the door jam b/c other kids were arriving) We're your parents. Can you please stop what you're doing and briefly tell us goodbye. Okay...we're leaving. Bye. O...kay...bye. We're really leaving...is he going to be okay? He's not looking at us. He's still not looking at us. (Outside of class peering into window) Look! There he is. Omg, he's doing so good. Oh. Uh oh. He sees us. Hi. We'll be back. What? What did he say? I can't read his lips. Oh, okay, bye. Love you. See you later. We'll be back. Waving. Waving. Where'd he go? Oh. There he is playing in the sandbox. Aaahhhh. My baby's all growns up.

**This is him as soon as he walked in after school on Thurs. Exhausted.**

He only has two more days of school left next week. And, this is how I see it playing out. He will either totally forget about it or he'll hound us for the rest of the summer until August. I wanna go to skool. I weddy fuh skool. Weah's my lunch? I wanna take mah lunch. I wanna go to skool. I weddy fuh skool. Mommy, I need mah lunch! Jesus! When does school start?

***

KD Sr. left this afternoon for work. On a plane. For a week. Boo. Really? A whole week? Why not a work week, you know, 5 days? I can do 5 days with my eyes closed. Ah. Frick. Oh well. Here we are. Luckily, we've got the weekend pretty much planned, so we'll just keep churnin' and burnin' until it's time to pick up my baby's daddy. We've got the library on tap for tomorrow. I'm going to do some research and find a couple of good reads to fill up my evenings after the kiddos retire. There is absolutely nothing on TV at night. Well, except for The Bachelorette, but that's only Monday night. And, that's me and KD's mindless "brain-sucking" reality show. I told him that we can watch it together over the phone with a glass of wine. But, he's not too keen on the idea since he has a roomie and stuff. M:Well, maybe your roomie watches it, too? K: I'm not watching it. M: Well, it's DVR'd anyway, so I'll just wait to watch it when you get back. K: No. Please don't wait. You can watch it.

KD, when you get back, I'll wait until Monday night and we'll watch this week's and next week's episodes back to back. Aaaaa...nd the "Deanna Tells All" episode that's DVR'd already, but you said you'd pass on. You can thank me later. Sweet dreams my love. I miss you already.

Sleepless in Houston

Our highly anticipated evening out and hotel stay has come and gone. It had all the elements of time well spent: friends, laughs, drinks, dancing, loud music and lewd gestures. Coupled with the an evening together sans bedtime routines or waking to a pre-schooler demanding juice, this evening had high expectations. And, for the most part, lived up to its' demands. Shortly after going to bed, although comfortable, we slept lightly. Usually I can crash and a tornado ripping off the roof won't wake me...well, I don't really know about that because that's never happened, but what I'm saying is I'm a deep sleeper. Yet, I woke up several times.

Why? We were so tired, or so we thought. We were content and nothing was wrong, but something wasn't right. I suppose it was the natural feeling of leaving our little nest unprotected and worried about our babies. The dark, quiet room was missing the sweet sounds of deep breaths on the monitor. And, as our grandiose night was coming to an end, we anticipated the morning even more. As the daylight sneakily peeked in the room through a miniscule crack, it was all I needed to put the spring in my step. I awoke with a hurriedness, because surely it was 10:30 a.m. or shockingly it could even be 11:00 a.m.!! OMG, we slept in too late. I turn over. The clock reads 7:04 a.m. The same time. Of course.

But, we laid in bed and watched the news and I cried with Matt Lauer as he bid farewell to Tim Russert. We laid there until who knows when. Glorious. On our way to check out, I said to Keith, so this is what it would feel like without kids. Just us. We could do whatever we wanted, whenever we wanted. Eat here, eat there, go there, or go here. Do this or do that. And, we both quickly decided- no thanks. And, I know if we didn't have kids, we wouldn't know any different, so there wouldn't be that emptiness. But, when you know, you can never go back and be content. And, that's not totally new information. We quickly bought some breakfast tacos and headed home to feed our little birds.

Our Father's Day started with lunch at Jason's Deli

And, then touring more model homes. Highly addictive. I bet the food in this kitchen even tastes better.

And, I bet little boys (who'll remain nameless) have better tempers in houses like that.

After dinner at Luby's, we then we came home and baked cookies with Nay-Nay.

Happy Fodder's Day

I took the boys to Picture People, a GREAT place, a week ago for their Father's Day gift. We gave Keith his framed 11x13 today and he loved it!! He couldn't believe we had this done without him knowing. Luckily, all the times Kale ran around the house saying "I wanna gib Daddy his picture" I just played it off like he was talkin' crazy again, who knows what he's talkin' about...sshhh.

I went into Picture People with the notion that I would not be buying a whole lot. I think we've put enough money towards professional photography in the past year--ahem. Well, the boys really helped out with that. Trying to get a 13 month old to sit on the floor instead of running through the curtains and coming out on the other side is like effing impossible.

The highschool girl only got a dozen or so shots and only one of them was good enough to buy. If you haven't been to Picture People, it's a fairly painless process. Afterwards, you wait for the pictures to develop and they come out with a few pre-framed, to show you what is available and you know...up sell you. But, essentially you sit in front of a HUGE flat screen and view the pictures. Everyone is waiting around and can see everyone else's pictures.

I sit down in front of the screen. The photographer and I are out of breath and laughing because it was a maniacal. A little about the photo shoot: Kale started out with a nice smile and then all of sudden started smiling like Renee Zellwegger. I don't know what he was doing. The photographer and I were cracking up and that just made him do it more. Mack wouldn't sit for the pictures. Near the end, we asked Kale to hug Mack. Well, it turned into holding Mack in a headlock to get him to stay.

The pictures slideshow starts. I begin a small cackle. By the middle, I'm hunched over like a hyena. And, by the end, the clerk comes over to see what the fuss is about. I can't even sit up straight or talk sensibly. I am laughing and crying uncontrollably, my stomach hurts. She says "Are you okay?" I barely manage to say I'm fine...it's... just... these... pictures... are...aaagh...hilarious...probably the best ones we've ever had done...oooohhh myyyy Gaaawd...I'll take #4. Let's just say, that's probably not the preferred customer reaction. She quickly got my order and I skidaddled with tears still seeping from my eyes.

I've been wanting to share this story so bad, but haven't been able to, until today. Ahhhh. Relief.

Take a look for yourself.

"Stay Classy San Diego"

After much probing over the weekend (man, I'm sore!), j/k, it was revealed that Keith's idea of a birthday celebration would include being wined and dined. I immediately thought of a bumper sticker we saw years and years ago...which made me think of a another bumper sticker on the same car:

Let's just say that the owners of that car were classy. So, the karaoke idea was scrapped. It's no longer a surprise, either. We are now having a nice dinner and then drinks at a bar. A bar at a hotel. A hotel that we have a room booked at. Need I say more? We will be closing that bar down. His Mom got the room reserved and my Mom is staying the night with the kids. It's the best idea. Ever.

I presented Keith with his gift of collected entries yesterday morning. Did I cry? You betcha. Maybe it was because he's such a wonderful person and that every wonderful person should know how much they mean to others. Maybe it was because he's made me so proud and so happy all these years that I can't imagine him not knowing how priceless he is. Or, maybe it was because I went to the mall last week to pick out a cologne, but couldn't smell a turd in a diaper, therefore I had to leave empty-handed. I can't pick out something I can't smell and I wasn't about to buy one that the sweet Grandma type sales lady considered to be "popular with the young kids", just to bring it back the next week.

We spent his birthday quietly. Kale and I baked him a cake, we ordered from his favorite pizza pie place and looked at custom homes on the way home. We can dream, can't we? It's how Keith stays hungry.

***

Denise Richards has a show. Really? Yes. And it's 100% garbage. I don't watch it, but I've seen a tidbit here and there. Must go to Hollywood where they hand out reality shows like teriyaki chicken samples in the mall food court. I wouldn't do one, but if I did, yesterday's show would've been called "It's Shitty". Day one of feeling remotely back to normal, I bust out the slip-n-slide and baby pool in backyard. Gratuitously lather kids and myself with SPF 2,350 sunblock. Change into bathing suits and swim diaper for Mack. Bring Ipod and speakers, cell phone, home phone, towels, blanket, bath toys and extra sunblock out back. Kids are in pool playing. Slip-n-slide is up and running and looks inviting. The new Weezer is blaring and I've just laid down to take in some sun and relax. Child #2 stands and lets out loud stamp of disapproval and motions to escape from pool. After several attempts of coaxing from the sidelines, I grumpily get up to see what's the matter. As I approach the pool I see cloudy water with chunks of poo and corn floating about. OH MY GOD! ABORT! ABORT! I rip Kale from infested water and immediately flip pool. Rinse out pool, rinse off toys (let them bake in 1000 degree sun), rip off crapped diaper and hose off child. Start over.

'Snot' to be taken lightly

I have been so lazy lately with posting. Bah. I've had a cold and the amount of snot that has been produced on this block has to be monumental. Seriously. How much snot can one person have? I'm slowly starting to feel some relief and drainage. Please give me back my life. These boogers have consumed two of my weekends...interpretation...Ms. No Fun to be Around. :-)

We were invited to a huge graduation party, but since my sinuses started draining my face felt like I'd been hit with an airbag, like 2o times. My face hurt. My jaw hurt. My teeth hurt. Lastly, my head hurt. That's how much snot was in my sinuses. I don't get sick very often, but when I do, my body likes to do it right. By slamming my head up against a brick wall until I collapse. Thank you. Thank you. That'll be enough.

We relaxed this weekend after the tasking week we'd had by buying a Slip-n-slide and taking Kale to see Kung Fu Panda (great movie). This was Kale's first movie in a theatre. A little nervy situation b/c attention spans and activity level is pretty low. But, all in all, he stayed in his seat all the while tossing and turning, eating, drinking and yes, farting. I think that made his experience complete.

***

Onto more exciting things, Obama finally won the democratic nomination. I didn't think Hillary was ever going to concede. Bless her heart. I can't wait to see how many people cannot vote for a black man. And the fact that he's even labeled as a 'black' man frustrates me as well. As a parent of mixed race children, I don't want either of my sons to be identified by one race more than the other. Obama is half black and half white. He has as much white blood as he does black blood running through his body. Yet, he's a 'black' man. I realize we need labels in order to classify things. So, he has to be called a 'black' man. He can't be labeled 'other', unless on paper. Still, the fact that he looks 'black' rubs a lot of people the wrong way. I've actually met people who think that if he gets voted into office that it'll be a free ride for all the black people and that he'll pass a law in order to pay all blacks reparations. HA HA HA. Whoever gets into that office is guided and lured from day one, but no one makes all the decisions. Uh... ever heard of checks and balances? The Constitution? All rational logic goes out the window, though, because hey, he's 'black'.

Happy Monday!

One day at a time

Phew! Today was a doozie. I'm still recovering from a minor head cold from this weekend and wasn't in the mood for what my boys were bringing. And it got brought. Mack is teething and I wish that effing tooth would just show up already and stop making my life difficult. Kale, well, he's just a sweetheart, thank you God! And, now that he's 3 (I've said it before...) he's a lot more verbal. So, I do A LOT more explaining and repeating myself. Because...HELLO MOM! Do you not know that everything is frickin' hilarious and up for debate?!?! And I laugh. But, that doesn't help for when I've reached my limit. I get louder. and louder. AND LOUDER---until it gets to him. I don't want to be a yeller.

Linda Lee's post today hit home. Especially this part:

"this job is mission-critical, this is not a job where you fuck around, this is the job of caring for the people I love more than anything on this earth and if I am a screwup at this then there is no hope for me at all. On the one hand, I think that this job can be hard as hell, and if I sometimes feel resentful and selfish and impatient, maybe that just means I’m human. On the other, I think it’s shameful to admit that, because this is what I signed up for —

and my god, this life is so good."

And it is. So. fucking. good. With that, I breathe a little deeper and relish in the fact that I get to do it all over again tomorrow. It's a new day. Another chance. With my own new expectations. I may not be a complete success, but I'll do better. And the next day a little better than the day before. That's all I can hope for. But, I wouldn't trade this time for any other.

As Keith was carting Mack off to bed, he kept calling out to me "Ma-ma" "Ma-ma". My heart swelled. I heard my little boy say my name in his own voice for the first time. It had meaning behind it. It wasn't jibberish. It's the first of many times he'll call for me, but the first time is always special. I'll remember it forever.