Damn Cycle!

I'm very grumpy today. I think I got up on the wrong side of the bed. Of course, there is only one side to the bed as "my" side is against the wall. Perhaps that's the problem. One side of the bed. If I had two sides, then I'd have options. I like options. I need options. Must. Move. Bed.
I digress. Everyone is pissing me off. I've got a wicked look in my eye that says "Anything you say will cause me to kick you". Perhaps it's not a great idea to have 2 cups of espresso within 30 minutes of waking. And another on the way to school/work. In my defense, the espresso is good. I mean, trade-espresso-for-sex-good. In my brand-new, very fancy-shmancy, self doing coffee machine.
I feel like I'm running through a cycle that is never ending. You know, just life. Wake up, drink too much coffee, open Chicken's eyes enough to dress herself, more coffee, make lunch, check back pack, more coffee, drive to school, chit-chat a few minutes too long, race to work arriving 20 minutes late, make more coffee. Work silly monkey job, go to school, go back to silly monkey job for an hour, back to school. Home, school work (for both of us), cleaning, cooking, sports activities, continue my role as "Queen Yenta" with other non-Jewish friends. Wrestle, kiss and tickle child, threaten her with homemade cookies into the shower, bitch about and demand the toothpaste in the sink get cleaned NOW!, Chicken is in bed. I clean. I sleep. And hopefully, 5-6 hours later, I do it all over again.
See what I mean. It's just a-spinnin'. And I don't mean the records. I mean the wheels in my head.
What can I do to improve this, how can we make more money? Is she getting sick, I need to call the insurance company, must order more soccer pictures, must mail Kara's CD & Jillian's Nemo. Must call laid-up Aunt in Vermont. (If I were a cartoon, here's where the steam would come whistling out of my ears. WOOOOOOOOOOO)
This morning, in the midst of my grumpiness, I put her in the car and prepared to drive away. "I'm so lucky", I thought. This is the life I always wanted. The life I fought for and semi-maintain. Of course, the bitch inside pushed my (rare) grateful attitude aside but now that I reflect; I am lucky. Maybe not so much luck as blood, sweat and tears. Ok, mostly tears. But whatever.
When I was growing up, I dreamed of being a mom. It was all I ever wanted to be. I dreamed of June Cleaver, baking cookies, PTA meetings and cleaning toilets. I knew being a mom was hard and a lot of work and draining. I prayed for it anyway. And on mornings (days, weeks?) when I feel like there is nothing left of me, I thank God for answering prayers. For allowing me to give people the life I never had and fulfilling emptiness I grew up with.
It's everything I wished for and more.
Thank you.

Open Letter

This is an open letter to several people I know yet no one in particular.

To: Young Mothers of Young Children
From: A Young Mother of a Young Child
Re: Behavior

Dear YMOYC,

I know that you may have grown up in less than desirable circumstances. In a less than desirable neighborhood. With less than desirable parents. Me too. So I write you this letter of advice with experience because people all over are judging you. You say you don't care but clearly you do. This does not excuse your inappropriate behavior. STOP! You have kids now, babies who need you. You are no longer allowed to travel the tri-county area seeking the best parties and cheapest drinks all. the. time. Stay home. All kids need their moms. Even on weekends. Please close your legs and stop with the promiscuous (I knew this word before that silly song!) behavior. This is what got you kids you didn't want in the first place. If you must sleep around, don't let him stay over. Saying that your life revolves around your child does not mean it's true. Be home when your child wakes up Sunday morning, make her breakfast. Pop Tarts is not an acceptable breakfast. Hung over moms do not make for good moms. Don't take unappealing pictures of yourself and post them to the Internet. This applies especially to those currently locked in a custody battle. These pictures will be used against you in a court of law. You are no longer "cool". Being called a "MILF" because you wear revealing clothing doesn't mean you are one. Put your boobs away. You are not from the ghetto, stop acting like it. Don't let your daughter behave that way either. Stop teaching your sons gang signs. Instead, teach them to behave one class higher than your actual income. They will get much further in life that way. That's a tried and true method.
Lastly, love your babies. Because when you're all dried up and the "love of your life" stopped returning your calls, you'll only have your babies.
Sincerely,
Brown

Me Too

This is an excerpt from Rosie O'Donnell's blog at rosie.com in regards to Britany Spears shaving her head & getting a tattoo.
Something about what Rosie wrote struck a cord with me and reminds me all too much of my own life. Real life has saved me from many mistakes.

many moms -
of kids in ur sons class
want to shave their hair off
and get a tattoo
they dont because they cant
noone is there 2 watch the kids
what would the neighbors say
plus
the pta meeting
would be humiliating
on many levels
real life
can save u
sometimes
u have to -
no choice

I Heart No One

I'm seriously lacking many things lately. My creative writing has gone down the tubes, laundry is, once again, over - flowing from the wash room and the bathroom counter top resembles a lab where they study toothpaste spills and blue mouthwash stains. I haven't cooked a "real" meal in weeks. I am so. freaking. tired. It's so cold. And it seems like everyone else is going about their lives, happily balancing work, kids, volunteering, homes and family whilst I walk through the front door tearing my clothes off in preparation for a nap.

Things at Chicken's school are hectic. The yearbook has to be turned in by the 14th and we haven't even finished collecting pictures. There is loads of money to be collected for field trips, Year End Celebrations, etc. I had to put in for 5 days off work in the month of February for school stuff. That's 1/3 of my total paid time off. How do people manage this with jobs? I guess they don't. Most of the other "School Moms" don't have jobs. This is their job. But I am finding this year to be fulfilling in every possible way. The children delight me, the teachers can depend on me and the parents aggravate me. Something feels very important about my time spent at this very special school.

Husband is taking a mortgage broker class taught by his brother (!). He told me he needed a fire extinguisher because his brain was fire. Bless his big, sweet heart. All of this to get us out of here. So I can chase my dreams while he has his nose in a book, in a computer, up a potential client's ass. I must buy him something very pretty and expensive. He loves a fabulous pair of shoes.

Here's to naps and Valentine's Day.

Teacher's Pet

Kindergarten Field Trip - $4
Loss of weekly wages volunteering at school - $64
Pink baby clothes for very pregnant teacher - $100
Arts and craft supplies for cookie and card decorating - $20
Dinner with families at school fundraiser - $37
Being told you're her best favorite parent - Priceless

Because It Has Many Purposes

I told this story to a friend on the phone last night and decided that I should write about it in order to get over it and move on.

But before I do, allow me to provide a little background information.

I have a very love/hate relationship with my boss. One on hand, she's very kind and generous. On the other hand, she's a mega bitch. We used to call her Hagatha the sea-witch. She's very funny yet judgmental and brings new meaning to the words pretentious and snob. She is also the classic rags to riches tale. Except now she's just like you and me. Regular middle class folk. I've worked with her for 4 years and we've seen each other through many economic, physical and emotional challenges. We're very loyal to each other but with the feeling that it could end any day now.


Onto my True PACSI! Hollywood (Florida that is) Story:

Boss: How much do you think a 40 pack of tissue paper goes for?Me: I don't know, like 99 cents.Boss: Well I just paid $3.99 for a 40 pack of tissue paper at Party City!Me: You got ripped off! I bought a 300 pack at Target for 47 cents the day after Christmas.Boss: (scoff) What do you need tissue paper for?Me: (indignant tone) Uhh, the same thing you use it for. Gift wrapping.Boss: (now with even snottier tone) They don't give you tissue paper with the box when you buy a gift?Me: Um, I shop at Target.Boss: (sigh) We really do come from different worlds, don't we?


Ahh yes. Different worlds. I'm going to have to remember that the next time she asks me where she can get a good deal on milk.

My Eyes Hurt

Here are some fashion statements I don't understand:

-Guys with tall hair wearing a rubber band/headband around their head to put emphasis on the very tall hair.
-Young (not balding, non-military) guys with shaved heads.
-The mandana. 'Nuff said.
-Mini skirts with leggings. I'd rather bring Madonna back from the 80's.
-Skinny jeans. They keep saying that EVERYONE can wear skinny jeans. Even no-so-skinny chicks. This is not true. Trust me.
-Halter tops, tube tops and other inappropriately-revealing clothing in plus sizes. Also, maternity thong underwear.
-BIG hair. You know what I'm talking about. The ones who have super curly hair, keep it really long and turn their heads upside down and cause further global warming with a bottle of hair spray. B I G !
-Boho anything. This includes the huge t-shirt passing off as a dress but excludes the boho bag.
-HUGE Jackie-O sunglasses. Especially on tiny women.
-The mermaid dress. This cannot be comfortable.
-Guys wearing t-shirts down to their knees and then still wearing their pants below their ass. What's the point?
-$150+ sneakers endorsed by basketball, football and baseball players. I get having one pair of really good sneakers. I do not get why kids want several pairs. Are your parents very rich? If so, I'm available for adoption.
-The velour jumpsuit. Shut up.
-The one piece bathing suit with the sides and/or front and back exposed. What exactly are you covering?
My #1 fashion pet peeve:
-Little girls dressed as grown women.