Mama In Stilettos

Vampire Tire

So I am positive that a vampire changed my tire yesterday. Well, I’m pretty sure.

I have had this nagging left back tire. During the summer, I had to fill it up once in a while because of a screw that decided to make his little home in the sidewall of my tire. Okay, I don’t mind filling up my tire to avoid getting it fixed because, let’s face it. I HATE dealing with anything to do with my car. I refuse to get my oil changed and I will not get it winterized. If I put it off long enough, my husband will get thoroughly disgusted and irate to the point that he will do it himself and I am off the hook. I know, it’s the slacker’s way out, but it works. If it’s not broken, then why fix it?? Round and round we go in the cycle. He nags and nags..I procrastinate and then he does it. Works for me! This is why I still drive around with no passenger side mirror that I took out with a mailbox last year. I simply don’t want to deal with it. I tried to get my husband to rig up a mirror from one of my compacts. I even offered up my cute Clinique one!!! It would match the color of my Jeep perfectly! Clinique, people! And he refused and said that he would rather die than see a Jeep drive around with a compact for a side mirror. Brings a whole new meaning to applying makeup while driving.

Well, I happened to run into a different kind of situation this week. The nagging back left tire decided that it was going to completely go flat. Twice. Once in my driveway. Which was okay because I deftly hooked up my little handy dandy air compressor and filled up the tire and off I went. The second time was a bit mortifying. I was in an upscale little town north of my own in a posh little shopping center. I scored some sweet deals and had just packed up the munchkins. I jumped in the Jeep (with no mirror…It kinda looked ghetto..I know..But wait! It gets better!) and was about to pull out. Some woman in a shiny brand spankin’ new Volvo was waving a bejeweled hand out of her window. “Yes. Excuse me? But, your tire is flat. Hello? Your tire is flat? I just thought you would want to know.” Yeah. I thanked her, but could NOT bring myself to hook up an air compressor in the middle of this spa-like shopping center. It would be like clubbing Nancy Kerrigan’s leg. You just don’t do it without some kind of consequence, whether it be the disgusted looks, or the older generation walking around with their fingers in their ears. I wasn’t going to take the risk of the shop owners coming out and taking their items back and saying “Just kidding! This WAS NOT on sale. Full price for you! NOISE MAKER!” So I drove about 100 feet to the nearest gas station. At least I wouldn’t feel guilty about the noise. WRONG. All kinds of stares and pitiful looks. I looked completely hopeless and, yes, ghetto among these Stepford people. That was it. Time for a tire fix.

The next day I, again, pumped up my tire with my noisy air compressor ( I think I qualify as a mechanic now) and drove to the nearest tire place (no, I did no research on which place was cheapest. This place was close. Less pain). I walked in and was greeted by Mr. Hi! I’m the Boy Next Door. Boy Next Door explained to me that there were, in fact, 2 screws in my tire (what? Did I drive through a tool factory and not remember?) and the damage was not repairable. I would need a new tire. None of this “Oh, they throw a plug in your tire..Takes 5 minutes!” That my dad told me. Boy Next Door also informed me that, to my luck, they did not have my particular tire in stock and would have to order it. Great. I asked what could be done?? Do I just drive on this bad tire and keep pumping it up until the new tire arrives?? Gravely, he shook his head.

“One pothole and it will blow.” Oh my. I certainly wouldn’t want to be a damsel in distress in this weather. It’s too cold. Not good for the skin.

“So what do I do?” I asked

“Well, do you have a spare tire?” I must have looked blank. Of course I don’t know! Unless I can see it with my eyes, I have no idea what I have in my car! I could have a pet rabbit running around the interior of the car, but if I don’t see him, then no harm! And I am sure I have at least 5 ridiculously stunning shades of lipstick floating around somewhere with the phantom French fries. But do I know?? Of course I don’t know! And who has time to search a car anyways when there are so many more exciting things to do? Like watching trashy television and perusing Ebay!

Mr. Boy Next Door located my spare UNDER my car only after removing everything from my trunk. This included my double stroller which is a tank, my two single strollers and multiple other baby items including, but not limited to, diapers, wipes, floppy seats and some sort of rope (obviously not baby related..heh heh).

He then called to one of the mechanics to take my car back to have the spare put on do I, you know, didn’t DIE when hitting a pothole.

That’s when I saw him. The vampire. He came over to my Jeep to take it back into the garage. He had skin that was translucent. I felt if I looked close enough, I would be able to see every vital organ inside his being. His eyes were so incredibly ice blue and piercing, that I had to look away involuntarily. And I never look away involuntarily. I am generally a confident person in dealing with people on this level. I tried to catch a glimpse of his name on his shirt but it was fuzzy. It was fuzzy!!! It was not meant to be read! You know why? Because he was a VAMPIRE! And I know he was reading my thoughts because he didn’t even say a word to me, but slid in behind the wheel of my car and maneuvered it expertly into the garage. I clambered to get inside fast to get a look at him. Not an easy feat with two kids. It took about ten freaking minutes before I could even see what was going on inside the garage, but by that time, he was almost done changing the tire. Crap! I wanted the goods! Did he wave his hand and magically change the tire..No, vampires don’t do that. Wait..What kind of drink did he have? Vitamin Water. Shoot. Wait! But he could have brought that from home and had it infused with some sort of blood before coming to work! Yes! He was drinking RED Vitamin Water. JACKPOT!

All of a sudden, my car was in front of the building and done. How had I not seen it get there?? You know why? Because a VAMPIRE did it. I strolled the kids over to the car and over to the tire. Tire looked normal. You know what I was inspecting for?? Bite marks. I may have made him mad if he could read my thoughts about the Vitamin Water. I could have really ruined his day now that he knew someone figured him out.

I waited to pay and Mr. Hi! I’m Boy Next Door was willing to process the transaction. Done. Finally. Tire was fixed, but not without drama. As I walked out of the store, I glanced back towards the garage area and saw the vampire. He looked at me and I SWEAR his EYES FLASHED. I practically yelped and bounded towards my car. Once I was in it, I locked it. As if that would do anything. He could probably bust through the glass and have at my neck if he wanted to. Hopefully the Vitamin Water would hold him off.

Now, every time I go out to my car I expect to see that tire flat. The culprit?? Two bite marks from the VAMPIRE.

Farting Jonas Brothers

This, my friends, made my FREAKING day!

Casting Couch: Jonas Bros Ready for Farting

Gareth Cattermole/Getty Images

I, for one, CANNOT even STAND the Jonas Brothers.  Why?? I don't know.  Could it be that they have better hair than me? Nah.  Or that they sing like girls and that is considered "good singing" to the masses ( I shiver).  I swear the first time I heard them, I thought it was a new girl band and I was all "Cool! Girl Power!"  Not so much.  Or could it be that they look like they wear woman's clothing most of the time (look at the vest and seemingly powder blue SCARF beneath shirt on the left).  Or that they think that they are sex symbols and they are what? Like 11?  Check out the one on the right throwing a "blue steel" look with his shirt unbuttoned.  Please you don't even have chest hair for god's sake.

 

Nope.  Now it's because they are publicizing their FARTING and making it an EVENT. (never mind that it's about a movie...Just ignore that part)

 

The Great Lakes

So far I have had three, yes, three LAKES in my basement.  One was from the water heater blowing up, one was from the genius decision to unhook a "sub-pump" (because what in the heck was it doing anyways?).  Well, the pump was PUMPING water AWAY from my basement from another pipe ( I know..I can be quite technical). 

This lake appeared this morning from yet ANOTHER hose I decided wasn't doing anything.  Apparently it was doing SOMETHING, or there wouldn't be another water park in my basement.  Again, I had unhooked this hose from the pump.  Now that I know how everything works, I think that I am a certified plumber and can generally fix a water leak anywhere in the house.  I know all of the shut off valves and I know how to use a "sub-pump". 

But who needs this?? I figure that since the neighbors are not living up to my expectations of cultivating a tropical oasis, whether it be winter or summer (it seems to not matter to them, anyways), I should take the lead.  I will turn my basement into an indoor swimming pool.  Believe me.  It wouldn't take long to fill up with all of my problems lately and the hot water heater should keep the water quite tepid.  I could install tanning lamps from the ceiling so we could tan and have that "glowing, beachy" look.  I could even throw a few fish in there.. Nah.  Fish creep me out.  My stairs could be a waterslide into the new tropical paradise.  Throw a few ficus trees down there, some of those pink garden flamingos, and a few floats.  BAM!  Bahamas in New England. 

Plus, I figured, with all this water, if you can't beat 'em. Join 'em

Pet Peeves

I think that everyone has a few things that aggravate them, or drive them batty. These things are things that can make rage bubble up inside of your chest making some sort of monster develop and pulse beneath the skin, waiting to jump out at anyone who just happens to cross your path to be your next victim. Things that irritate you to your core and can make or break your day. Some people have a few of these things, and some people have more than a few.

These things are lovingly called “Pet Peeves”. And I, just so happen, to have BUNCHES of them. But this week it seems as though people have stroked some of these peeves and taken pleasure in seeing me seethe. With me, I find it harder and harder to hide my emotion, especially as I get older ( I am NOT getting started on THAT issue. It is something all together DIFFERENT. And something I will address soon as I am becoming obsessed with it). And I find it more difficult to hold my tongue as I become more chronically sleep deprived and have more intense temper tantrums thrown in public places by both children when I am by myself. So, when a pet peeve becomes engaged, I find it difficult to ignore the feelings they uproot in myself. Sometimes I react, or sometimes they just ruin my day, as I mull over situations that really just irk me to the point where I get so worked up that I am a walking time bomb.

Example: “Sarah, what are we doing for dinner?”

“WHAT do you MEAN WHAT IS for DINNER? You expect me to DO EVERYTHING! Step up to the plate buddy and YOU take ACTION! I can’t even handle this anymore! You’re such a JERK! EXPECTING me to take care of EVERYTHING around here! I AM NOT A SLAVE! I am a WOMAN who DESERVES more than THIS! THAT‘S IT!! I‘M BUYING SOMETHING ON EBAY AND YOU“RE NOT STOPPING ME!” Thus this is what happens when something sits inside of me all day long. It manifests itself as soon as it get it’s chance. Phew.

Here are a couple of things that happened this week off my list (and, believe me, the “pet peeve” list is loooooooooooong. Perhaps I am a bit intolerant.)

1. The Finger Beckon

Someone using the “come hither” finger is the worst. It makes me feel about 5 years old and makes me feel absolutely ridiculous answering the person. You either use the Finger Beckon when discipline a child or seducing a lover. Neither of these were the case with me.

I went to a meeting last week and through a seemingly genuine mix up was unable to get into the place where the meeting was held. Another meeting was taking place, but the other meeting decided to relocate. I didn’t. I was going to tough it out and wait for someone to open up the facility. I should have known this person was a “Finger Beckoner” when I first met her. I got out of my car to let her know that I was going to stay for my meeting and not go with the others.

“Who are you?” She asked. I answered with my name, followed by my family name because that usually gets me further up the ladder of recognition. Kinda like the “golden ticket” in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. “You look a bit fuzzy. Actually, everything is a bit fuzzy.” And she looked over my shoulder to the left. I turned and looked to the left. Ummmmmm..Nothing was there but trees.

“Actually, I’m going to stay here and wait,” I said.

“Okay,” She said and shrugged her shoulders and got into her car. Call me crazy, but if everything is a bit “fuzzy”, should you be driving a car? I mean, that’s a pretty important piece of machinery right there and if you can’t see someone two feet in front of you? That may be a problem.

I walked to the front of the building and up onto the stairs. She pulled her car around and then she did it. She rolled her window down and did the Finger Beckon with her white boney finger. A slow and deliberate beckon. My insides dropped to my feet in disgust. I hate that. The slow beckon. With a white, boney finger. That is something my nightmares are made of.

Of course, being the nice, polite person I am, I went up to the car, mumbling choice words under my breath while sirens of irritation blew like fire trucks in my head. I went up to her window. And I saw it. Her keys. Her keys were attached to her body on one of those spring cords with clips. And the cord was a dirty yellow color. One end was attached to a belt? I think? Although I am almost positive she was wearing elastic waisted pants. And the other end held her keys which were in the ignition.

I have no idea what the heck she told me or said to me. All I remember thinking is “Thank god she has an emergency system. If things should get too “fuzzy”, all she has to do is pull the rip cord and I am sure that something will happen to disengage the car.”

At least we all hope.

2. The Public Ignore

This one really gets me going and drives me crazy. I know a lot of people and a lot of people know me. That tends to happen when you move back to the area where you grew up. After frolicking around to many places, our family ended up right back in the town where I grew up. Was I mortified at first?? Of course! Especially since the last words out of my mouth were “I would NEVER live in THIS town. I am NEVER coming back.” Open mouth insert not only foot, but whole LEG. Did I feel like I should be jumping on one of the school buses with my LL Bean backpack and flute (oh dear god) and head to school? Of course! I would wake up with a start for the first few months back here every time a school bus would pass by my house in the mornings. But moving back was the best thing for my kids. My children get the opportunity to grow up with family all around them, just like I did. And that was such a vital part of my upbringing and an integral part of who I am today (uh-oh..heh heh). If I wasn’t here, I would feel as though I was shortchanging my children. And I see how excited they get with family and it is all worth it. Even the instinct to jump out of bed, check my face for zits and then run (literally..every freaking day..RUNNING..with my flute..oh dear god).

Anyhow, I saw someone I knew at the mall the other night. Not only did I know her, but she was a pretty good friend of mine. I had seen her one other time in public, where I approached her and did the good deed of small talk. I, for one, HATE small talk. It is a genuine waste of time and I find it goes no where, fast. So I usually get to the core of real conversation. Also? I think that since I am a social worker, it was my job to small talk ALL DAY until a person trusts..Then you move in to address the issues. So. Yes. I am a professional small talker, but I loathe it in my personal life. But if I see someone whom I haven’t seen in a long time, I have to small talk or I have nothing and then I seem like I have no brain (seeming in one thing..knowing, well, that’s another).

So I preformed an experiment. I did not approach this person. We were in the SAME store at the mall. And we MADE EYE CONTACT. See? Last time this happened? I was Little Miss Friendly and Sparkly (sparkly because I was playing in the glitter eyeliner at Sephora). I bounced over to her and was happy to see her. Heck I hadn’t seen her in about 10 years! This time? I waited to see what she would do. You know what she did? NOTHING. I repeat. NOTHING. She ignored me. Like a DOG.

Again, I seethed. What the heck is wrong with me? I mean, it’s not like I carrying a flute anymore, right? I’m freaking carrying Coach and wearing the hottest stilettos ever. Gimme a break. I couldn’t even believe it. Whatever. No more Little Miss Friendly and Amazing Lashes (I was playing in the mascara, yet again). I was Mrs. Pissy Pants. I left the store and sought out retail therapy. The only thing that could fix this situation.

Shoes. I went into one of my favorite shoe stores. And you know what? It totally worked. I know it sounds shallow (whatever). The music pumping, thumping inside my chest..The patent flashing..Heels yelling my name to dance with them. Hey, Mr. Boots over there wants to buy me a drink. Hellooooooooo, Mr. Boots. Perfect zipper up his side and the perfect size heel for everyday winter wear. . Not to mention the cutest stitching design around the toe area. Yes, Mr. Boots. I am seduced, you and your black leather smell.

(sound of record screeching and music stops)

She walks into my store!! On my turf! I thought we were going to have some serious problems. I was going to have to go all gangster. Whip out my five inch stiletto and take my Charlie’s Angel stance. But no…I guess I’m too scary. She saw me. And left. I think I’m either too scary or too intimidating without my flute.

Pool Watch 2008 (Continued)

So here's the weekly update on the pool situation. My neighbors have NOT closed the pool yet (although it is below freezing just about every night now). And I haven't seen Ebay deliver anything resembling a "do-it-yourself hot tub kit" along with a portable heater. So a hot tub is almost certainly out of the question. Right now it is looking as though either they are draining some water from it, or someone stuck a knife in the side of the pool and it is deflating (It wasn't me!). The truth is buried at the bottom of the pool..Laying under a film of mold and algae. It is no longer an oasis, but a disaster area that looks ghetto and condemned. I am about to get some yellow police tape and rope the area off as some sort of crime scene. A pool died here.

Although...If they do so choose to keep it up still?? Past Halloween when I throw glow sticks into it? I think they may be hosting the neighborhood's First Annual Polar Bear Swim!!

The Watchdog

It’s been one heck of a looooong day. It all started out when I attempted to start a load of laundry. I opened the basement door and started to go down the stairs and SH-ZAM!! There was a lake at the bottom of my stairs. Great. Just great. How was I supposed to deal with this? Especially with two little monsters running/crawling around upstairs. I quickly assessed the situation. At first I thought that the water was coming from the dehumidifier. THAT has happened before, although not leaving Lake Ontario on the floor. I open the door to the room with the furnace and water heater and some other things I am not sure what they do, but are big and noisy. The water heater!!! OMG! TONS more water around the bottom and coming out the top! And wouldn’t you know? It happened to flood the one and only cardboard box I had left to unpack and bring upstairs. Fine. I grab some towels, throw them down in fury and I do the thing I know best. I call Chris. Let him deal with this. Oh was I so wrong. “Are you kidding me? I am in class! The only reason why I am talking to you right now is because the teacher is not in the room yet!”. What? So now we’re in high school? Are you going to get a detention for talking to your wife about a broken water heater? A risk Chris wasn’t willing to take. He told me he would call the company and call me back. Quick! Before the teacher came! And then he’s going to put in his vote for homecoming queen too.

Chris called me back and told me that they would send “someone” out today to look at the heater. “what time?” I asked. “I have no idea.” Chris answered, “I have to go!” (click) Well, Mister Teacher’s Pet didn’t want to get caught on the phone, or get 10 points docked from his “pop quiz”. Argh!

“Hello!!!??” “HELLO!!!??” Omg. Someone is IN my basement. No door knocking, no ringing of the doorbell, just walking into my basement from my garage. Well, I guess I know that a burglar can just walk into my basement without my knowledge. Hey! He can even bring his laundry and throw a load in before cleaning me out of all of my expensive (read: cheap) jewelry and my stash of cash (HA! Good luck with that one buddy. I can’t even find where Chris has hidden it). I answer “Hello?” As I run down the stairs. It was the repair guy. Not a burglar. Too bad I cannot pull out my Jackie Chan skills….Yet..Let’s see what he says. “Oh...Looks like you got a leak.” YA THINK? I just stare and say: “ummmm..yeah, it’s seems to be coming out of the top mostly.”
“Yeah! It’s a leaker! You’re going to need a new one.” NO! Just fix this one..I don’t want to deal with this. “Do you have a piece of paper?” He asks. ummm..Then water heater guys proceeds to OPEN up a NEW roll of paper towel from my PANTRY downstairs, rip a piece of off and use it as stationary. Guess he won’t be needing that paper...huh.

I then have to go through the hoop jumping routine of calling the gas company to get someone out here to install a new heater. TODAY, because now I have NO hot water. “No, I am sorry, miss, I cannot find your account. Your address?” I answer. “Nope! Sorry! Your phone number?” I answer. “Uh, no. Do you have a recent bill?” I stare over at the “bill basket” that is so overflowing I cannot even explain it to you. It is my OCD husband who refuses to throw away any pieces of paper, so they accumulate in the “bill basket”. I am forced to swim through coupons, old bills, dated catalogues and FINALLY find a gas bill, but not before another incident. I slip in the remote for the dog collar. NO, the remote didn’t go off (sorry), but it slipped under my foot in such a way that it felt ALIVE. I felt as if I stepped on a MOUSE (Yes, so many flashbacks and severe PTSD). I let out a small and short scream over the phone. Again, embarrassing myself to no end and having to apologize for the representative’s now bleeding ears. At that point I think the rep felt sorry for me, as my children were whining, I was screaming and I’m sure her head was spinning. She said someone would be out today to replace the whole heater.

My parents have this whole week off, so they were thankfully around to help contain the kiddos while some of this was transpiring. After a while, around naptime, my mother offered up my father’s babysitting services to take me to out favorite coffee shop. Yea for coffee shops! I love this coffee shop called the Radical Roaster. Love the people, atmosphere, food, coffee..Need I say more? Is there more to life than that? Anyways, my mother offers to drive. “Geez, I hope I can drive your father’s car” (they had driven dad’s car over to my house). I get in the car and hope for the best.

OK. Hoping does nothing for my situation. My mother gives me whiplash and engages muscles in my body I don’t ever remember using in this lifetime. She claims that she is driving like this “because the gas pedal is sticking”. I have NO idea what the heck is sticking. All I know is that I am seeing the back of a certain truck all together too closely and I am thinking of where I can get one of those neck braces (and possibly get my doctor to prescribe me some good meds should I be in any pain or have muscle spasms after this little adventure). But I arrive at the coffee shop in one piece and celebrate with coffee goodness and good conversation. I was talking to an old friend, which was great! I love catching up with old friends, but there is also something about sitting in a good coffee shop and looking around at people you don’t know and listening to what they are saying.

Yes. I snoop. I spy. It never hurt anyone, or at least it hasn’t ever KILLED anyone that I know of..Well, maybe like Russian spies or something like that, but never coffee shop spies. Never.

I am sitting at a table and I hear two guys talking. These two gentlemen are probably in their mid sixties to seventy and are facing toward the large plasma screen above the fireplace. They are sitting behind me. This is when I wish I had a small tape recorder because these two men made my day.
Scene: Fox News is on TV. They are showing a reporter who is outdoors.

“Where is that guy? Eh. He’s wearing a terrible coat.”
“Yeah. The wind is blowing all around. All the leaves are on the trees.”
“Who does that guys think he is wearing a winter coat? Eh. In that terrible color. Eh. Where is he you think?”
“Ohio.”
“Ohio? Are you serious? Eh. He’s in Pennsylvania. Gotta be.”
“I like watching Hardball”
“Ah Hardball. Now, There’s a show. Eh, I don’t care about these other stupid things they got going on now.”
“Yeah, like the show with the circus colors.”
“ Eh. The circus colors.”
“Yeah, the old lady switches between the show with the circus colors..One of those ‘entertainment shows’..Oh! Entertainment Tonight. Then she’ll let me switch back to Hardball.”
“I couldn’t take that with the circus colors.”
“No, I hate it. But she doesn’t listen to me. You seen Chris lately?”
“Oh, Chris. Yeah, I seen him.”
“How’s his eye?”
“His eye thing?”
“Yeah, his eye thing.”
“Eh. It’s some ‘reservoir’ thing with the lenses. Ah. I don’t know. Had dinner with him. Up there on Route 9.”
“By Brooks Brothers?”
“Yeah, the plaza up there.”
“Was it good? What’d you have?”
“Eh. It was ok. I’m fussy. I just had some shells with marinara sauce. Brenda had some chicken thing and Chris had some fish thing. Eh.”
“But he’s ok with his eye?”
“Eh. Ah. It was a torn lens of some sort because he wasn’t ‘filling up the reservoir’ with the liquid or something. Do you know that his lenses fill up his whole eye. Even the white parts?”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Eh. I don’t know how those kids do that. Get them in and out like that without hurting themselves. Eh. He sometimes gives his eyes a rest with his glasses.”

And on they went. I could have stayed all day listening to Gramps and PapPaw. If I stayed long enough they may have figured out politics or something. I don’t know. I wouldn’t put it past them.

So mom asks to have some drinks to go and off we went. Mom hands me to drinks and I get into the car. She DID NOT put her tea into the carrying device properly and I spill tea like a river down my leg and into her purse. Good thing she’s laughing. She cleaned this piece a few days ago and you never know which way it’ll go. I thought I may have been adding the car to my list of things to mop up. My mom starts the car and we’re off again whiplashing around, only this time, I am under strict instruction to NOT SPILL DAD’S COFFEE. That’s kinda hard when you are on a ROLLER COASTER. I put my thumb over the hole in the lid and OMG SCALD my thumb. But I did not spill the coffee. It arrived in perfect condition, like my new water heater!

Ps..Guess what I found under the water heater. If this were properly placed and not LAYING ON IT’S SIDE it would have sounded like a smoke alarm (oh god: refer to ‘Smoking Cars’) to alert us to the water. Probably would have saved me doing 17 loads of laundry to clean to towels used to mop up Lake George.

OCD Transportation

Here's the thing: There are these "parking lots" ALL OVER my HOUSE. My son makes these "parking lots" everywhere including my kitchen, living room and his bedroom. He is OBSESSED with cars and everything to do with transportation (tractors, motorcycles, trucks, planes, trains, helicopters, etc..you get the picture). If he had his way he would watch Disney's "Car Movie" all day every day.

This is what concerns me. His parking lots are starting to be color coded and he completely freaks out if ANYONE, and I mean, ANYONE messes with them. He spends hours assembling these lots and takes each car one by one and carefully lines it up then takes the next, and so on. If he doesn't like it?? He removes a car, gets a bit discombobulated, and then gets whiney before he gets it right.

Do you think he is OCD?? Am I overanalyzing this because I have social worker blood and I subconsciously believe that everyone has a mental health disorder and should be on medication??

Where does he get this?? Oh shoot. I just remembered that when I unpacked my winter sweaters yesterday that I color coded them on the shelf in my closet..oh no. Add that to my list of problems.

Fact or Fiction??

It time for another game called Fact or Fiction!!!!

Fact: Yesterday, while blowing leaves, my neighbor was wearing earmuffs. It was 65 degrees outside.

Yes! Fact! My neighbor was wearing what appeared to be red earmuffs while performing yard work. What is worse?? He had his 11 or 12 year old son doing the same thing while helping him. Poor kid is headed straight to pre-pubescent nerdville at a rapid pace and he has no choice. At least give the kid a choice! Or get there on his own volition! Don’t force him to take the nerd pathway by wearing earmuffs while blowing leaves!

Oh...I was later informed that the “earmuffs” may have be “noise silencers”. Ok. I get that. But why? Why do you need noise silencers if you preform yard work on the average of 1 hour every other week? I can understand the importance of this type of headgear, although quite unfashionable, if you perform yard work everyday ALL DAY LONG. For a LIVING. And you hear the sounds of lawnmowers and weed whackers in your sleep, or your body vibrates with the sounds while, say, your watching your favorite show, Lipstick Jungle. Only then can I understand this fashion faux pas. Also- some of these “noise silencers” pump music into your ears. So I ask you...What the heck is the freaking difference?? You’re either jacked up hearing the sounds of the lawn improving machines (which I find very comforting because I am ADDICTED to white noise), or your blowing your eardrums listening to Flo Rida sing “Apple bottom jeans..Boots with the fur…” I rest my case.

Fiction: Flat shoes (commonly called “flats”) are more comfortable than stilettos (or high heels).

A HUGE fiction! Everyone has always called me crazy because of my love (read: addiction) of high heels or stilettos. The higher the better. The cuter or hotter the better. The trendier the better. Anyhow, you understand my point. When I became I mom, everyone told me that I was “crazy” for wearing my heels and toting around my kids. I had no problems. I was born in heels. I think I came out of the womb wearing a pair of 5” patent mary janes. I probably broke my mother’s water with my heels. I never had any problems wearing my heels (except the slight “bobble”, for which I forever am made fun of my husband and various friends/family...Well, I have fallen a few times...But not so bad, and never with kids) until one day.

One day I was rushing like a mad woman to get to work (because I am perpetually late) and had to drop my son off at a friend’s house. I grabbed Nicholas out of his car seat and grabbed his two diaper bags and practically started running towards the house. In 5” stilettos. And a skirt. And tights. And hit a patch of ice. And there we went, pulling a full-on Britney Spears. Oops. My face took out the driver’s side mirror of my friend’s minivan. It was not a pretty site, as I am not graceful in the least. Nicholas was fine, as I sacrificed my body (and skirt, heels and tights) to protect his. I wiped the makeup off the mirror of the van, popped it back into place, gathered up my things, that were now in a ten foot radius, and headed into the house. Of course there was a ruckus. “Are you ok??” OMG!!” I was fine...Tights were ripped, I was a bit dirty, hands scrapped up. But I didn’t mind. I had back up tights. Then I noticed… My SHOES were SCUFFED. I practically fell to the floor in disappointment. Anything but the SHOES. C’mon I just planted my face on the side of a minivan and I can’t even have the dignity of walking away with my shoes being unscathed?? My day was ruined. To this day, I mourn the loss of those shoes, which have since been replaced.

So now, I am the mom of two and with winter quickly approaching, I decided maybe it was time to try out some flats. Maybe I don’t want to fall on my face with BOTH kids, especially in public. Might not be a sign of good parenting and I hate to draw negative attention to myself (positive? yes. negative? no.). So I researched the internet to no end in my search of cute and functional flats. And I finally found a pair. So BEAUTIFUL! Snip toe ballerina flats with a bit of patent leather and a bow. They were a bit pricey, but I figured, you get what you pay for...right?? Wrong! I wore these puppies to the mall the first time and I swear they could have been used for a device of torture. Every step I felt as if little knives were slashing my feet to shreds. By the time I left the mall, my feet were bloody pulps. I arrived home full of cuts and blisters and hobbled in the door with two kids and diaper bags in tow, sweating from the pain. This NEVER happened when I wore a decent pair of HEELS! I had to freaking bandage my feet from these cute little spawn of satan manufactured shoes. So, it’s decided. I will stick to my functional STILETTOS that don’t rip apart my feet at each step.

Fact: I saw an electrician of some sort whizzing behind the electrical transformer in the neighborhood.

Fact, fact and double fact!!! There are certain things that you don’t want to see, and there are certain things that you don’t want to see without your camera. You be the judge (heh, heh).

I was pulling up from grocery shopping (no easy feat!! read: ‘Smoking Cars’). As I am pulling into my driveway, I notice at the end of my street, something suspicious. The electrical transformer is about...let’s say 50 feet from my driveway. There was a man in “work gear get-up” (hard hat..tool belt..flannel shirt..droopy jeans, YMCAish), fiddling around the transformer. I was about to get out of my car for the circus of unloading groceries and kids when I noticed him cautiously look around and step behind the transformer. No way was I getting out of my car. What if he was going to blow something up?? I started to panic. He could practically blow up the entire neighborhood from that thing! Who knows what kind of mass destruction he could cause!? I needed protection! I was not leaving my car. You know how they say “don’t get out of your car if it’s lighting outside. The tires protect you.” I was hoping the same applied for what was about to go down here. I have full faith in my tires. They are fairly new and don’t have many miles on them (eh..except one does have that screw stuck in it and it is losing air slowly..oh great.). Or what if he was vandalizing something? I would need a description of this man and what exactly transpired during his misdemeanor.

Sadly none of these things happened. What happened was far worse. The man stepped behind the transformer after looking around for a bit and then I saw him look down for a second. Then his head appeared above the transformer yet again, looking around..Then down again...Then around...Then down..Then..OH MY GOD! He was peeing! Right there at the end of my street! 50 feet from my house a guy was whizzing behind an electrical transformer! There are so many things wrong with this! What if something, like a fuse, shorted out and he got shocked from the liquid (aka golden shower)? And I saw him go down? What was I supposed to do then? For sure he wouldn’t be “fully dressed”. omg. What is protocol for that? Throw one of my dishtowels on his exposed “part” and call 9-1-1? Or if I don’t have time for a dishtowel, a bunch of leaves maybe? But if they were too dry and things were still “electrical” and sparking and the leaves caught on fire...oh no. And, by the way, who does he think he is?? Tarzan and living in the jungle?? I’ve got news for you buddy. They're called “bathrooms” and there’s a little shopping plaza down the street with plenty of them. And clearly he’s not homeless because he doesn’t even have a shopping cart full of cans.

Instead, I decided to startle him. I whipped open the door to my Jeep and then slammed it with a vengeance, staring in his direction. He looked directly at me from behind the transformer, looked down (oh, give me a break..put it away, buddy!), and stepped to the side of the transformer, just as he finished “zipping.” The nerve!!! I glared and stomped to the rear of my Jeep and opened the trunk.

(Loudly) “Geez Nicholas, you need a diaper change. SOMEONE needs to be properly POTTY TRAINED.”

POOL WATCH 2008

So after some email and chatter, I will begin POOL WATCH 2008 (but with my luck, they will close the pool this weekend..oh well).

Luckily, I have FULL VIEW of their pool.

So, the pool is green, but not AS green as it was yesterday (yes, I should have taken a pic yesterday). Why?? The neighbor was seen throwing a bag of chemicals into it at approximately 9pm last night when I pulled up into my driveway and my headlights flashed into their backyard. At first, I though it was another prankster, like myself, who might possibly be throwing compost into the pool, but no. There was the distinct smell of chlorine in the October air. Why is he still chlorinating it?? Are they planning on using it for a hot tub this winter and are awaiting a portable heater complete with jet system to install?? I am boggled.

Again, notice the "solar cover" laid out to the right of the pool, collecting leaves. We live in New England. Are they planning on using the solar cover to haul leaves into the woods?

My husband was ranting about the leaves in out yard last night (we have a gazillion). We was asking "where are we going to put them all??" How are we going to collect them? WHY do we have so MANY leaves?"

My answer? Borrow the solar cover to haul the leaves and dump them INTO the pool. Hey, I don't think they would even NOTICE, since you could RAKE the bottom of their pool already.

UPDATE: For the record?? I HATE politics. BUt I simply could not resist this website.
Sarah Palin 4 Prez.
You can "Click" on everything in the picture!! C'mon! You know you want to try it!

The Baby Monitor

Yes. I will admit it. I have lots of fears. Some of them include (but are not limited to): anything that swims (creeps me out with their slippery bodies...ech), dark water (I love the ocean, but if I can’t see my feet, then NO WAY. There are too many things lurking in there. Look at Loch Ness! Nessie's brother or sister could be anywhere!!) and, ultimately, there is the MICE situation. I absolutely HATE anything to do with mice because of a recent “housing situation” (which I will explain at a later date). My poor children will never have any sort of hamster/mouse-like creature and now I freak out if I see any sort of bat activity outside in the summertime. They are mice with wings! That and there was an incident with a bat at my aunt’s house where she came crawling out of her bedroom on all fours while I was down the hall. The look of sheer terror on her face as she said “There’s a bat in my room!”….See?? I am totally traumatized by many things. Thank god for therapy or I may have resigned myself to living in a house with no windows and lots of cats because they can take care of any mice or mouse-like creature that may enter the vicinity.

I also can’t watch many movies because I HATE when eyes glow or suddenly change shape, or something weird like that. I also hate when voices change. The worst?? Is when a guys voice comes out of a girl. Demonic. I shudder to even think of it. Paranormal crap. When I saw the movie The Exorcist I didn’t sleep for 3 nights. That was HUGE for me because I covet my sleep and try my hardest to keep myself on a schedule (unless I’m reading a great book, then all rules fly out the window and suddenly I’m looking at my clock..Oh crap! It’s 2am!)

But you know the thing that scares me the most??

The baby monitor.

It has such POWER!

I am so afraid of that thing, it’s uncanny. When I had my first baby, I would lie in my bed and stare at the little lights that flicker with each sound or movement the baby makes and POW! I was up out of bed like a sling shot and by the crib. It has the power to wake me from the deepest sleep with screams of terror, or wake me from the depths of dreamland with a simple, little, *cough*. ARGH! It’s insane! I don’t think that I’ve slept through a night in 2 and a half years because that thing has been sitting on my bedside table flickering and making me jump half a mile in the air at least half a dozen times a night.

Last night was another one of “those” nights. I decided to try to hit the hay early because I was falling asleep while singing the alphabet with my son. Not the greatest example I’m throwing out there, but I took action. 10pm. I was in bed and drifting. And finally….fast asleep.

2:15am: WAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! Ooooooooooo!!! WAHHHHHHHH!

I throw back the covers like a superhero and speed walk (sans fanny pack) with my eyes closed to my daughter’s room. As soon as I open the door, I am assaulted with a pungent odor. I swear the air was green. Oh man. Fun times. I took care of the massacre and even changed her pajamas (I think with one hand and one eye open because I needed the other hand to hold my nose, and both my eyes were not functioning). Situation settled. zzzzzzzzzzz…..

3:35am: Ah? Ahhhh.. *cough*

I sit straight up in bed, ready for war, my heart already racing.

Nothing.

zzzzzzzzzzz..

5:10am: WAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! *sniff*

I, again, whip back the duvet and stand beside my bed, staring at the monitor. Lights stop flickering.

Nothing.

Climb back into bed.

zzzzzzz.

7:00m: WAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! AHHHHHHHHH!!!!!WAHHHHHHHH!!!

Ok..Time for action. I slide out from under the covers (it was so warm!) and stumble towards the refrigerator. Pour a bottle, wait for the bottle to heat, all while my daughter is being attacked by terrorists (or so you would think). I, again, go into her room and almost fall to the floor, as I am smacked in the face with the smell of sewage. Great. It’s a repeat. WAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!AHHHHHHHHH!!!!!! I put her on her changing table and go to hand her her bottle…. my hand hit the bottle the wrong way..

Bottle=on the floor=Entire contents spread throughout the room on her hardwood floor.

WAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!

Ok..Take care of sewage problem, again change pajamas…. CLEAN FLOOR...Get new bottle….

Back to bed.

WHOOP! WHOOP!!

Great. She woke up the two year old. It’s going to be a WONDERFUL day.