i have decided that in 2015 i will take the world on with wigs.
some days i just might feel like this:
nothing says ‘can-do’ like nicely feathered hair.
maybe i might feel like this to do my shopping:
because nothing screams red, white and blue more than shopping at wal mart.
or maybe i might feel like a hot night out with the hubby:
roar.
and instead of buying my kid a big wheel, i am just going to wear one:
hello 2015.
hello sparkle.
this is one new year’s resolution i can keep.
it recently came to my attention that kate upton is now the sexiest woman live.
this is false.
why?
because i know for a fact i was not on that list.
case closed.
the flu has officially hit stodmornia.
yeah, it is an actual place. why do i know this? i live there.
first it started with the infamous lunch room barf-a-rama, which we later found out did indeed have people scurrying and falling over backwards, literally, to get away from the action.
then we brought the action a little closer to home with the sink suddenly becoming a beacon for barf. for some reason, this particular child refuses to barf in the toilet.
note to owners of bathroom sinks, they were not meant to handle barf, plunger may be needed to de-clog residual barf.
not to be outdone, the next action was brought to us by the over-confident ‘i think i can make myself not barf’ participant.
he could not, he did, and the bed needed to be cleaned.
he kept a bowl handy from then on out, even when we have tried to convince him he is no longer barf prone.
the next action barfing figure is a little unnerving to me still.
this participant showed no sign of barfing. in fact, he ate a hearty snack, followed by a hearty dinner. not 30 seconds after the hearty dinner was completed, he immediately barfed in the sink.
again.
the damn toilet is literally 6 inches from the sink.
plunger needed yet again.
not to be deterred by a little barf, my child asked for dessert 30 seconds after finishing barfing.
“that is eating through the pain!” the hubby proudly exclaimed.
i personally was contemplating what exactly my womb created and who the heck eats right before and right after barfing?
the next participant in the barf-a-rama was the man who wished for it all, the hubby.
knowing the hubby as i do, and loving the hubby as i do, he did not fail me.
i got a play-by-play of the whole episode X2.
if that ain’t love, i don’t know what is.
at the moment, all’s quiet on the barf front, but the day is young and there are still three barf fest virgins holding on to their virtue.
i am working a lot of hours right now, these hours are are usually between 12 am and 9 am.
hell’s hours.
when i get home, i try to take a 2 hour nap and then sleep 2.5 hours at night before work.
in other words, i am beautiful right now.
while napping this morning, emma’s school phoned saying she had just puked on herself and others during lunch.
there were 3 calls and 2 texts.
i left thinking i was the worst mother ever, my daughter was at school needing me and i was not there.
i got to school apologizing profusely for making them wait close to 45 minutes before i got there.
“we did not even know she was going to throw up, she was laughing right before and right after.”
that is just how emma rolls.
we found her laying down in the nurse’s office, giggling and listening to music.
i called the hubby, who happened to be almost to the high school to get emma because they called him when they could not get me, and wept my guilt over the phone.
“i am the worst mother.” i said while crying. “she had to wait, they could not get a hold of me because i was sleeping!”
we met at the house where i continued to lament and feel mom guilt.
“to tell you the truth,” the hubby said. “i was hoping it would have turned into a vomit fest.”
and there you have it, the crux of all things different about women vs men, mom vs dads, working mothers vs working fathers.
my scenario running through my head: death, destruction, weeping and wailing.
the hubby’s scenario running through his head: a puke fest worthy of a movie scene.
i think it’s time i packed my guilt luggage and have a stay-cation in the hubby’s brain for awhile.
my daughter has the best friend ever.
he is my new favorite.
why you may ask?
because he is a dead ringer for this fellow, right down to the voice.
this is his actual school picture.
her friends are like the island of misfit boys and she is their queen.
“i’m sorry, we are sold out of the wings.” the waitress told us.
during this festive christmas season, i am working all night and the hubby is working all day. we decided we needed to go out on a date.
badly.
being raised in a religion that you do not shop, enjoy cinematic events, or enter a restaurant on sunday, AND given that we live in a state that is predominately filled with people who share the same religious upbringing, we felt sunday would be the best bet for us to go out as the establishments for all things entertaining are entertainingly empty.
that, and we had a gift card AND a coupon from my uber savvy shopping hubby. (couponing is also a religious upbringing, little known, but there.)
now i can bring you into the earlier written conversation.
“what do you mean you are sold out of wings? how do you sell out of wings? it is your signature appetizer right next to the bloomin’ onion?” i asked incredulously.
“i know, we had a large party come in and order the last of them.” she said while giving the eye point so we could see who had just stolen the only happiness in my life.
“no, really, how do you sell out of wings.” i asked again hoping she was lying.
the hubby and i just sat and stared at each other.
“i could get you something else.” she offered.
“we only come for your wings. we have been waiting for these wings.” i was desperately trying to explain.
“we should just leave.” the hubby said. i was too busy glaring at the large party enjoying the wings that had just been delivered to listen. the hubby has literally had a glass of water spilled on him by a waitress before and we just laughed. being told they were sold out of wings, we were willing to try to get someone fired.
no one understands wing love.
“we are being punished by God.”
“no, it is gluttony, i hope they choke on a chicken bone.” i said.
we ate the rest of our dinner listening to the group laugh, talk loudly, and lick their fingers, never realizing that two tables away, goat sacrifices were being made to curse their family for all eternity.
one of my co-workers has this habit of hissing when they are feeling anxious.
it is peak season at UPS, so anxiety and stress are at a peak.
this means that my co-worker spends the entire 8.5 hour shift hissing.
i am working with hiss.
this same co-worker, also sang along to the radio.
for four straight hours.
every song.
sang their little heart out.
for.the.love.
dear hubby,
today is your big day, and being as it is your big day, i can’t help but think about myself.
myself and all the adventures you have given me.
cue melancholy music now:
like that time i waited 3.5 hours for you in pocatello.
or the blue peanut m&m you dropped while driving, then went searching for it on the floor of your truck, while still driving.
or that guy you rear-ended while searching for that blue m&m. totally understandable, it was a peanut m&m.
or when we were driving to the airport and i rolled down the window to vomit yelling at you to pull over between heaves, at which point you thought i was telling you how to drive and responded with “i know what exit to take!” you still loved me even with vomit on the side of your car.
how about when there was construction on I90 and the cement barriers used to separate northbound and southbound traffic to keep motorists safe did not deter your free spirit, you just went up on those babies with two wheels in your hot little honda civic.
you made ricky bobby proud that day.
my personal favorite was when i looked over at you driving with one eye closed.
“why do you have one eye closed?” i asked while flying down the freeway at 70 mph.
“i have double vision, i did not want to worry you replied.” you replied.
my love, you had me worried with your logic of not worrying me while driving with one eye closed.
life with you has been just like this:
and if i was your mistress, sultry, and sexy, i would sing you happy birthday like this:
but since i am none of the above, i will say happy birthday like this:
well, i did it again.
woke up in my bed, when i should have actually been at work, working, which is what working folk do.
unless, of course, you are me.
i would be classified as a sleeping folk.
52 minutes late today.
that means my carpool buddy was 52.2 minutes late. i clocked in first.
things i have going for me:
1) no one wants my job where i work.
2) it is peak season, they are taking anyone they can get, as in no drug test required, ever.
3) i am trying to care.
i think tonight when i go to bed, i will actually remember to turn on my alarm clock, or just fall asleep with the light on, wake up thinking it is the sun, and that i have missed my shift completely, therefore panicking while running around in my underwear.
true story, happened before.
i found myself at the local grocery store with other cheap minded individuals, vying for the end of day donuts at remarkably low prices, when the following conversation took place.
“do you think that is lemon filled or just custard?” the woman next to me asked about the donuts, she also happened to be a complete stranger.
“i don’t know, let’s look closer.” i told her.
we were shoulder to shoulder, hunched over, with our foreheads pressed against the glass.
“it is yellow, it could be either.” she said.
“i dare you to lick it and find out.” i whispered to her.
she looked at me shocked and said “i would never, in a million years, do that. never.”
“i wouldn’t tell.” i told here while still standing should to shoulder, hunched over with our foreheads no longer pressed against the glass but facing each other making eye contact.
she then saw my two daughters standing behind us watching the whole exchange.
“your mother is a bad influence on you.” she said while walking away.
she never did find out if the donuts were lemon or custard.
you know, people just don’t take friendly advice like they used to.
Stodmor's Blog: Surviving motherhood without eating your young 