A very blog-worthy day indeed

I think I’ve officially become addicted to blogging. Whenever things happen…whether they be annoying, funny, touching…the first thought that crosses my mind is “I need to put this in my blog.” I seriously love this shit. Lucky for me (or you, I suppose!) I had lots of interactions and experiences today that I’ve been stashing away in my cell phone brain to share when I have a chance. For no other reason than to organize my scrambled mind, I’ve decided to sort them according to character.

Snoop Hubby-to-da-hub:

  • First of all, my awesome man told me that he’d take care of bath, toothbrushing, storytime, and the bedtime chaos routine so that I could record these moments. I haven’t figured out if he’s doing this because he’s super duper sweet or because he knows I am among the most forgetful people on earth. Whatever the reason…thanks baby. You da best. 😉
  • Snoop has a tendency to shout out nonsense when woken from a deep sleep. I’ve laughed my ass off more times than I can remember over the years at some of the shit that he’s shouted at when when I think he’s awake (i.e., “Make me a sandwich!”), only to have him go straight back to snoring before the last syllable has reached my ears. This morning, after begging him through three rounds of snooze on my alarm clock to rub my back as “motivation” to get up, Snoop gave in. For five seconds. Then he went limp. I did the whole woman thing of laying there for a few seconds stewing before wiggling around, jabbing him in the stomach with my elbow, and shouting “HEY!” He sat right up and said…”I’m tryin’ to win something!” then collapsed back down into a heap. Very annoyed I said “what?!?” and he said “I don’t know. I think I’m smoking crack.” I then realized the motivating backrub was never gonna happen so I gave up and drug my ass out of bed. Turns out he was half awake for the “smoking crack” part of the conversation, but otherwise…yeah…he was out. I really need to wake him up with a video camera sometime…I’ve been saying this for years, but I really should.
  • This probably should go into the “Dramamama” category, but seeing as how I think she’ll take up most of the content here…I felt it only necessary to spread the love. Let’s preface this by saying that since Snoop has been off work he’s been doing a lot of work on his new bike (bike being motorcycle…not 10 speed) and getting dirty so he’s pretty much lived in ugly paint-splattered old army pants and yucky shirts (sexy, I know). Yesterday morning I had asked him if he wanted to take Drama to school and he said something about not wanting to because he was wearing crappy pants and hadn’t brushed his teeth. Fast forward to today… I drop off Drama at school and her teacher comes over to me laughing and “just has to share” what she said yesterday. (as soon as I hear this, my brain switches to ‘record for the blog’ mode) Miss V asked Drama if her Daddy was back to work yet and she said “no…he’s at home,” so Miss V asked why she wasn’t home with him. She responded with…”Because he’s wearing his crappy pants, and his crappy shirt, and he didn’t brush his crappy teeth.” Gotta love her…

Boog:

  • I’ve been having many many “mommy moments” lately with my little man…wondering where the time has gone. How did the high-maintenance precious baby that I remember so clearly…the one with the giant brown eyes, sweet baby scent, chubby little arms and fat little almost-edible feet…grow into such a kid in what seems like the blink of an eye? I’ve been watching him create an “identity” for awhile now, and it’s so fascinating to see his real, “big kid,” not completely-influenced-by-Mommy personality emerging. He seems to be taking on what he likes to call a “rocker” style…which is actually more of a cross between hip-hop and skater (I’m totally down with this, by the way…I don’t think it could get much cooler). Side-turned baseball cap, asking to grow his hair all long and shaggy, sporting bling purchased from gumball machines, wearing a hoodie ’til it nearly stands on its own, and insisting upon “cool” shoes (Converse All-Stars and Airwalks). I am just so amazed with this little man. I try really hard not to pressure him to wear a certain kind of clothes, keep his hair cut a certain way (though the fringe that’s started covering his ears is really really bothering me), or leave the tacky-ass bling in the house (though it does make me twitch sometimes to see him walking out of school with a faux gold andfaux silver cross hanging from strings around his neck). While some of the details may make me raise my eyebrows a bit and bite my tongue ’til it bleeds, I couldn’t have asked for a more awesome son. He is truly amazing. I love ya, Booger Man.
  • So bearing that all in mind…I was in the drop-off line this morning outside of his school, waiting to get to the sidewalk. Typically, he walks to school, but it was raining and he doesn’t like to get his awesome shoes muddy (he got that from me) so I drive him on “wet days.” He turned to me just as he was about to get out of the van and said, “Mom (add this to the list of ‘where did my baby go?’…he calls me ‘Mom’…ugh)…do you think anyone thinks I’m actually a rock star?” I said I wasn’t sure…but maybe. He opened the van door, put on his backpack, turned to me and said, “Hm. I wonder.” while nodding his head all squinty-eyed and mysterious like a little stoner (as long as he holds off of that persona for another 20 years or so, I’m cool), then gave me a kiss goodbye, a noogie on my used-to-look-hot hairstyle, and ran off to school.
  • About 8 1/2 hours later, on our drive home, Boog was terrorizing his sister in the backseat with “Spit Hands” (licking the palm of his hand and trying to smear it on her face) and Wet Willies (I don’t have to explain what this is, do I?). When I told him for the 100th time that this was really nasty and nice brothers don’t do this, he proceeded to practice the arm-pit fart for the rest of the drive. Yeah…he’s officially a boy.

Dramamama:

  • Oh…where do I begin with this little shit? How bout here… On the way to preschool (after dropping off the rock star), we were driving past a cemetery when she said, quite thoughtfully, “Wow…a lot of people are dead.”
    Me: “Yes…they are babe.”
    Drama: “Like Great Grandma died. That was pretty sad, huh?”
    Me: “Yeah baby…that was really really sad.”
    Drama: “What’s even more sad is that now Great Pap-Pap is in the house all alone. And Great Grandma had children who are grown-ups and they might call him and want to talk to their mommy and he’ll have to tell them ‘Remember, she died?'”
    Me: “I don’t think that’s going to happen babe. They remember that she died.”
    Drama: “Oh, OK. And remember that sometimes babies die?”
    Me: “You’re right, they do. That’s really sad.”
    Drama: “What’s the most saddest is that Great Grandma got to be old and have children and those babies won’t ever get to do that. And that makes me really really sad.”OK…maybe I’ve got my mommy-goggles on, or maybe I’m just so used to working with autistic kids with little to no insight or empathy…but I think that is really fucking deep for a four year old. She really astounds me sometimes with the things that come out of her mouth, and I am so proud that she is who she is. And I hope she stays that way…
  • Post death-talk, Drama asked to listen to Hannah Montana. I couldn’t find the CD (because my van looks like a damn landfill explosion), so she was silently sulking for awhile in the backseat. All of a sudden she shouts out:
    “Where’s Britney bitch?”
    Me: “Excuse me?”
    Drama: “Oh, it’s OK Mommy. I mean the song. Not your friend Brittany.”

    Maybe it’s time to stop allowing them to listen to and sing along with adult songs…

  • So since we couldn’t find Hannah, or “Britney bitch” (which, just to clarify is how one of Ms. Spears’ latest songs starts out…”It’s Britney, bitch”…), we continued listening to the radio. It was during a commercial break of the morning show I usually listen to and they had one of those commercials on for what was coming on “after the Bob and Sheri show.”
    Radio DJ: “Coming up after Bob and Sheri…if you’re pregnant you should eat fish. More coming up after 10.” (or something like that…I wasn’t paying attention yet)
    *7 second thoughtful pause*
    Drama: “If you’re pregnant you should eat fish?”
    Me: “I guess so!”
    Drama: “But I don’t like fish!”
    Me: “And you aren’t pregnant.”
    Drama: “Oh yeah. Good thing, huh?”

Me/Work:

  • I think I am developing arthritis. In my right hand. I don’t know if that’s actually what it is, because I’m a big old fucking baby about most things. But it hurts. I think it’s from too much typing…honestly, I feel like when I’m not getting pelted by blocks or drooled on at work I’m typing up reports or treatment plans or consult letters. And when I get home, and the kids are pacified with food or TV or in bed, I’m blogging. I think maybe I need to either learn how to use the dictation equipment at work or hire a personal assistant.
  • I hate my boss. He was on a two week business trip to Ireland and Scotland (during which he only actually worked for about 4 days), then was back in the office Monday-Wednesday. Long enough to have a supervision meeting with me and the other therapist to make sure we’re “getting enough clinical hours.” I get into work this morning to find out that he’s decided to “take a few days off” and won’t be back ’til Wednesday. Which, on one hand, doesn’t bother me because the morale is so much better in the office when he’s not there. But on the other hand…fuck you retarded gay turtle-man for getting all over our asses to do the shit that YOU. DON’T. DO. Grrrr…that man infuriates me.
  • Shout out to you, my BFFLMNOP. You may have begged forrequested this little shout out, but I do want to take the time to tell the whole wide cyber-world that I adore you. Thanks for being such an awesome friend for so many years. You totally fucking rock.
  • I love wine. Love. It.

Alright…I’ve been working on this longest blog entry in my ever-so-long blogging history for entirely too long. I need to go find my Snoop…who is likely covered in motorcycle excrement stink in the garage.., drink some more of my superb wine, call my BFFLMNOP, continue texting with Bootyfull and get to bed.

Adios cyber amigos…

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5 Responses

  1. what a bunch of goofballs you’re surrounded by.

  2. You crack me up! Yeah, I’m addicted to this blogging too. I’ve actually started taking notes throughout the day so I don’t forget.

    My 5 five year old is going through the same fascination with death…I think it’s age related because I have other friends with 5 year olds and they all said the same thing.

    As far as the slide show on my blog post goes…maybe try clicking the link above the slide show and viewing it from that guy’s web site.

  3. I used to LOVE listening to Bob&Sheri when I lived in Charlotte! Holy flashback!
    And I lurve wine too.

  4. Gold AND silver faux crosses? Together?? *shuddering* You need to definitely intervene here….only on that aspect of the new, budding personality!

  5. Leave my boy’s mix and match Mr. T’s starter kit alone. hahaha

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