I have been sick for as long as I remember. This stupid flu has hit both my kids and myself and has convinced me without any doubt that next year we are ALL getting flu shots.
When their father isn't traveling, our kids spend 2 days with me and 2 days with him. The last 2 days I had with them we were all sick, and spent them mostly in bed. Nausea has been a part of this flu (I believe caused by the flu medicine), which prompted wonderful John to buy some pudding to help settle stomachs all around.
The other night my son and I were lying in bed and I suggested he go and get himself a pudding. As he walked away, I asked him to make sure he asked his sister if she would like one too, since she was in the TV room, and this is an extension of the kitchen.
He comes back with 2 containers of pudding, one for me and one for himself. He also remembered to bring spoons, my little thoughtful guy. I passed on my pudding because it was chocolate, not something I should eat while nauseous (the kids took the vanilla), but I asked my son if he also remembered to ask his sister if she would like one, he said she did and gave her one himself. My sweet little server...
After the pudding was finished, and we hung out for a bit, I heard the stomping feet of my daughter barreling down the hallway on a mission. Soon, she was at my doorway, where she came to a very sudden stop. Facing her brother straight on, she demanded "Bala, YOU DIDN'T GIVE ME A SPOON!"
Ok, I swear I didn't laugh even though it took every ounce of strength I had not to. I did, however, engage into a Q & A with this child.
-"Clara, did you get yourself a spoon?"
-"NO"
-"Wouldn't it have made more sense for you to walk the eight steps it would have taken to get your own spoon instead of walking all the way to the other end of the house to announce you didn't get a spoon?"
-"No... "
- "Did you already eat the pudding?"
- "Yes"
- "How? Without a spoon?"
-"Yes, I squeezed it."
I told her she should have used a spoon. I explained to her that her brother was not her servant, but he'd been nice enough to get her a pudding to begin with and she should be thankful to him and not be so demanding of him. But still... I don't know. There's something so incredibly funny about this stompy 10-year-old marching all the way to the opposite end of the house to announce the major discrepancy in the way she was served dessert instead of just fixing it herself. From the day she was born I've said that she is destined to either be incredibly wealthy or a bag lady, because she just won't conform.
Needless to say, she didn't see anything wrong with her logic. Someone had made a mistake and by God she was going to let people know.
I know she sounds like a nightmare, but I must let it be known that she is just as hard on herself (if not more) when she makes mistakes. She does say "sorry" quite often, and her heart is always in the right place.
My thought on this particular instance? She would have never served anyone food without bringing utensils.
And a napkin.
And asked the person what they wanted to drink.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
I had a dream...
As terrifying as many of my dreams are, sometimes I’ll have one that reeks of absurdity. And me being me, I wake up from it and eventually stop taking dreams so seriously and find the comedy in them.
Last night I was incredibly bothered by a new law in California. Here is my story:
I was very rushed walking down the street (I think it was downtown?) talking on the phone. I had so much to do. I was supposed to meet my friend Dene so we could go looking for movie stills of some movie he had been in (first and only acting job he ever had – and he’s a 40-something interior designer). I also had to prepare some sort of Holiday dinner (I only had a piece of roast, a banana and some flour, which I could turn into crepes. Oh, and the kids found some huge grapes). The street was full of people, lots of them just sitting – on benches, on steps… Suddenly, I ran smack into a cop. I looked up from my phone call and the stern look on this officer’s face prompted me to quickly lower the phone to my side.
Looking down he said to me, “Ma’am, you do know there is a new law in California, don’t you?” “Yeah…” I tentatively answered. “Not only are you not allowed to drive and talk on the phone, but the new law states you can’t walk and talk either.” “Please don’t arrest me, officer, I just forgot, with the holidays and all… I’m sorry” I said. He continued, “However, the rule is that if I escort you to an area where you can safely sit down and continue your conversation, you can avoid a ticket or arrest.”
(Advisory - NO THIS IS NOT A PORN DREAM)
Off we went, down the block until we came to some steps. He said I could sit there because it was an approved area, so I sat down and resumed my conversation.
I was really pissed off because I thought that the whole “no walking and talking” law really made cell phones useless anymore, and as I looked around there were so many people now… sitting. And because the law stated you must sit and talk in a safe area, nobody could sit on a curb, or near the street so seats and steps had become the new parking spaces.
Thus, downtown had become a gigantic game of Musical Chairs. As soon as a phone rang, people would scurry for a seat, as if the music had suddenly stopped. As soon as a ringing sound would hit the airwaves, whether it was your phone or not, you had to be ready. Some people wouldn't even get up at all, lest they lose their seat...
Furthermore, there was also a law against becoming involved in intense conversation with a passenger while driving in a car. If the conversation was light and casual it was ok, but nothing that would require any distracting thoughts, or any engaging thoughts at all. How did the police knew how intense the conversation was, you ask? By the look on people's faces or their gestures, thus making it impossible for those of us of Italian descent to communicate with anyone at all while in a car.
Discussions of this law extending to "not engaging in deep conversation while walking" was also in the works. Something our government was considering passing in 2009.
I don't make this up. My brain does. The same way I wake up most mornings with a song in my head, making it the official "Song Of The Day". Today it was "Save A Prayer" by Duran Duran. I'll try to post these as the DJ living in my head lets me know what they are, given that it's not his day off or is called to work a wedding.
True story, I don't make this up, my brain goes on its own free will.
Last night I was incredibly bothered by a new law in California. Here is my story:
I was very rushed walking down the street (I think it was downtown?) talking on the phone. I had so much to do. I was supposed to meet my friend Dene so we could go looking for movie stills of some movie he had been in (first and only acting job he ever had – and he’s a 40-something interior designer). I also had to prepare some sort of Holiday dinner (I only had a piece of roast, a banana and some flour, which I could turn into crepes. Oh, and the kids found some huge grapes). The street was full of people, lots of them just sitting – on benches, on steps… Suddenly, I ran smack into a cop. I looked up from my phone call and the stern look on this officer’s face prompted me to quickly lower the phone to my side.
Looking down he said to me, “Ma’am, you do know there is a new law in California, don’t you?” “Yeah…” I tentatively answered. “Not only are you not allowed to drive and talk on the phone, but the new law states you can’t walk and talk either.” “Please don’t arrest me, officer, I just forgot, with the holidays and all… I’m sorry” I said. He continued, “However, the rule is that if I escort you to an area where you can safely sit down and continue your conversation, you can avoid a ticket or arrest.”
(Advisory - NO THIS IS NOT A PORN DREAM)
Off we went, down the block until we came to some steps. He said I could sit there because it was an approved area, so I sat down and resumed my conversation.
I was really pissed off because I thought that the whole “no walking and talking” law really made cell phones useless anymore, and as I looked around there were so many people now… sitting. And because the law stated you must sit and talk in a safe area, nobody could sit on a curb, or near the street so seats and steps had become the new parking spaces.
Thus, downtown had become a gigantic game of Musical Chairs. As soon as a phone rang, people would scurry for a seat, as if the music had suddenly stopped. As soon as a ringing sound would hit the airwaves, whether it was your phone or not, you had to be ready. Some people wouldn't even get up at all, lest they lose their seat...
Furthermore, there was also a law against becoming involved in intense conversation with a passenger while driving in a car. If the conversation was light and casual it was ok, but nothing that would require any distracting thoughts, or any engaging thoughts at all. How did the police knew how intense the conversation was, you ask? By the look on people's faces or their gestures, thus making it impossible for those of us of Italian descent to communicate with anyone at all while in a car.
Discussions of this law extending to "not engaging in deep conversation while walking" was also in the works. Something our government was considering passing in 2009.
I don't make this up. My brain does. The same way I wake up most mornings with a song in my head, making it the official "Song Of The Day". Today it was "Save A Prayer" by Duran Duran. I'll try to post these as the DJ living in my head lets me know what they are, given that it's not his day off or is called to work a wedding.
True story, I don't make this up, my brain goes on its own free will.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
She's a lady - another pet story
My daughter's new dog, Tiki, finally went into heat. She is the smallest dog that's ever walked this earth and (of course) the cutest (at probably 2 lbs. wet and with ankle weights).
I noticed this change last night, after she used her training pad in the house. Couldn't wait to tell my daughter (who was at her dad's), so I called her immediately. The first thing she said was something about it not being possible that her dog get her period before her, and then she begged me to not "make" her dog have babies, but to let the dog choose (huh?).
Anyway, she said this because her last dog, Carmela, was cruelly forced into (no pun) mating with this hideous creature: a teacup-size poodle stud, all-white, 2.5 lbs., with a member he could proudly base a rap career on, walking toward us whilst moving his pelvic area back and forth. He was terrifying, much more so than a Chuckie doll waiting to give you an OB exam.
As I held helpless Carmie, and offered up her virginity to Satan's Lapdog, the matter-of-factly pimp of a woman that was the other dog's owner reached for her dog's penis and proceeded to insert it in said virgin's hole.
"Is this really necessary?" I thought to myself, as Carmie turned her head towards me with imploring eyes. "Why? What's with the inserting gross things inside me?", she seemed to say. To make matters worse, the Madam told us (my step-daughter Kelly was with me, just because I self-destroy by bringing witnesses into my ever-evolving world of crazy) to hold Carm butt-to-the-sky to make sure the "stuff" went in.
Some of it did, some of it did not. Some went on Kelly, as she had held Carmie with comforting love. She then quickly passed her to me, butt down. Grossed-out and alert, I reached for her and turned her butt up again. Carmie whimpered, so butt down. As I brought her closer to me, butt back up. Yes I felt bad for treating her like a snow globe, but I knew if any of Satan's Lapdog's jizz went anywhere on me I would be cursed with feeling it indefinitely on whatever spot it landed. Because if a wet kiss on the cheek doesn't go away so easily...
Thankfully, my daughter (Carmela's owner) was too young to personally witness this, although she remembers the incident because afterwords Carmela developed an infection that almost took her life, and that was a big deal at our house. She was literally minutes away from a ruptured uterus that would have been the end of her. But she survived.
Carmie's attitude toward male dogs did change after this incident, especially since she had to have all of her reproductive organs removed. Regardless, she was a good dog.
And a true bitch.
In memory of Carmela, whom I miss dearly, and haven't given up on.
I noticed this change last night, after she used her training pad in the house. Couldn't wait to tell my daughter (who was at her dad's), so I called her immediately. The first thing she said was something about it not being possible that her dog get her period before her, and then she begged me to not "make" her dog have babies, but to let the dog choose (huh?).
Anyway, she said this because her last dog, Carmela, was cruelly forced into (no pun) mating with this hideous creature: a teacup-size poodle stud, all-white, 2.5 lbs., with a member he could proudly base a rap career on, walking toward us whilst moving his pelvic area back and forth. He was terrifying, much more so than a Chuckie doll waiting to give you an OB exam.
As I held helpless Carmie, and offered up her virginity to Satan's Lapdog, the matter-of-factly pimp of a woman that was the other dog's owner reached for her dog's penis and proceeded to insert it in said virgin's hole.
"Is this really necessary?" I thought to myself, as Carmie turned her head towards me with imploring eyes. "Why? What's with the inserting gross things inside me?", she seemed to say. To make matters worse, the Madam told us (my step-daughter Kelly was with me, just because I self-destroy by bringing witnesses into my ever-evolving world of crazy) to hold Carm butt-to-the-sky to make sure the "stuff" went in.
Some of it did, some of it did not. Some went on Kelly, as she had held Carmie with comforting love. She then quickly passed her to me, butt down. Grossed-out and alert, I reached for her and turned her butt up again. Carmie whimpered, so butt down. As I brought her closer to me, butt back up. Yes I felt bad for treating her like a snow globe, but I knew if any of Satan's Lapdog's jizz went anywhere on me I would be cursed with feeling it indefinitely on whatever spot it landed. Because if a wet kiss on the cheek doesn't go away so easily...
Thankfully, my daughter (Carmela's owner) was too young to personally witness this, although she remembers the incident because afterwords Carmela developed an infection that almost took her life, and that was a big deal at our house. She was literally minutes away from a ruptured uterus that would have been the end of her. But she survived.
Carmie's attitude toward male dogs did change after this incident, especially since she had to have all of her reproductive organs removed. Regardless, she was a good dog.
And a true bitch.
In memory of Carmela, whom I miss dearly, and haven't given up on.
A summary
So I blink and next thing I know 9 days have passed since I last wrote...
Day 1 - I was sad
Day 2 - I wasn't inspired
Day 3 - I freaked out
Day 4 - the kids went to their dad's, I was sad
Day 5 - same as day 4
Day 6 - kids came back, I was busy being happy
Day 7 - Similar to Day 6
Day 8 - Kids left again, too sad to write
Day 9 - Kids were gone. Again, too sad
Today - someone pointed out that I was a lazy ass, had to prove them wrong.
Day 1 - I was sad
Day 2 - I wasn't inspired
Day 3 - I freaked out
Day 4 - the kids went to their dad's, I was sad
Day 5 - same as day 4
Day 6 - kids came back, I was busy being happy
Day 7 - Similar to Day 6
Day 8 - Kids left again, too sad to write
Day 9 - Kids were gone. Again, too sad
Today - someone pointed out that I was a lazy ass, had to prove them wrong.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Woo-hoo
I'm happy. The kids are back at home and I couldn't be any happier.
I guess I don't realize it, but when they are with me, I listen to every word they say, I engage in what they do and basically never ignore them (besides, they wouldn't let me). So when they aren't around the silence is deafening, and my brain is in constant search for them.
I know I'm giving them all I got. In retrospect, I gave my marriage all I had, and although at times it saddens me to think about it, today I found a video I made for my husband that summarized so much of what I used to feel. And that made me happy. Right there in front of me, was proof of what I felt, a detailed description of what the main problem has been for many years... and I felt happy.
I felt happy to know that after all this time, I haven't wavered from who I am. I was true to him and myself, and I continue to do so. I told him years ago what the consequences would be if things continued the way they were, and it happened... nothing more, nothing less. I now claim to only want to be around my children, and that's what I do. I say I'm not interested in dating, and I don't go out. In this exact moment, I'm happily proud of that, because after crying for most of the day, I feel strong. Kinda kick-ass. Like the Lara Croft of emotionally needy and co-dependent women. But Lara Croft nevertheless.
I guess I don't realize it, but when they are with me, I listen to every word they say, I engage in what they do and basically never ignore them (besides, they wouldn't let me). So when they aren't around the silence is deafening, and my brain is in constant search for them.
I know I'm giving them all I got. In retrospect, I gave my marriage all I had, and although at times it saddens me to think about it, today I found a video I made for my husband that summarized so much of what I used to feel. And that made me happy. Right there in front of me, was proof of what I felt, a detailed description of what the main problem has been for many years... and I felt happy.
I felt happy to know that after all this time, I haven't wavered from who I am. I was true to him and myself, and I continue to do so. I told him years ago what the consequences would be if things continued the way they were, and it happened... nothing more, nothing less. I now claim to only want to be around my children, and that's what I do. I say I'm not interested in dating, and I don't go out. In this exact moment, I'm happily proud of that, because after crying for most of the day, I feel strong. Kinda kick-ass. Like the Lara Croft of emotionally needy and co-dependent women. But Lara Croft nevertheless.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
I HATE IT
I hate it, I hate it, I hate it, I hate it, I hate it, I hate it, I hate it.
I hate not having my kids here. Then I thought of cloning them, but me being me I would want to keep all 4 to myself. Plus Gigi when available...
I cannot live without my kids. I love them more everyday, they are my sun, my moon, my morning, my night, my breath, my sustenance, my music and my song. Their eyes sparkle, the perfection of their faces takes my breath away. Their voices drown every other sound in the world. Their touch gives me a warmth that could sustain me for a thousand winter nights.
And yet... here I am, without them. Night takes forever to come, and the dark it brings isn't dark enough. It's cold, I miss their warmth. It's so quietly loud, and their voices I cannot hear. My home looks distorted, an ugly compilation of belongings that are material and don't hold any meaning... Nothing sparkles, everything is dull and lifeless.
I just want tonight to end. And it just doesn't come quick enough.
I hate not having my kids here. Then I thought of cloning them, but me being me I would want to keep all 4 to myself. Plus Gigi when available...
I cannot live without my kids. I love them more everyday, they are my sun, my moon, my morning, my night, my breath, my sustenance, my music and my song. Their eyes sparkle, the perfection of their faces takes my breath away. Their voices drown every other sound in the world. Their touch gives me a warmth that could sustain me for a thousand winter nights.
And yet... here I am, without them. Night takes forever to come, and the dark it brings isn't dark enough. It's cold, I miss their warmth. It's so quietly loud, and their voices I cannot hear. My home looks distorted, an ugly compilation of belongings that are material and don't hold any meaning... Nothing sparkles, everything is dull and lifeless.
I just want tonight to end. And it just doesn't come quick enough.
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