August 27, 2012
To: The Lord God aka: The Big Ka-Huna
From: One Busy Momma
Re: School Year 2012-2013
Dear Sir or Madame:
As you well know, today was the first day of school for Busy Momma's crew. It all went very smoothly - I'd like to thank you for that. As much as I'd like to think that my obsessive compulsive stockpiling and organizing of school supplies, non-stop labeling, laundering and RE LAUNDERING my boy's polo shirts to "get them a bit whiter" was a large factor in the day's overall "smooth sailing-ness", I know that you had something to do with it as well. So kudos to you.
However - today was the very first day of a very long school year. By my count, we have about 189 days left...unless you'd like to send another lovely blizzard our way in January. (It would be a really nice 40th birthday gift. Just a thought...) And as much as I'd like to think that we will have 189 wonderful, smooth days like today...well, let's just say that I didn't fall off of the turnip truck yesterday. Our girl just entered Middle School...or as I remember it...the gates of hell. Although I do understand that you created all people in your image and likeness - I find it hard to picture you as a middle school-aged ,pre-teen girl. No loving God would appear in that form. Not that there is anything wrong per-say with these lovely, young, pre-women. However, I like to think of my God as a level-headed, wise, old grey headed man or woman...somewhat like a very shiny and glowing Dumbledore or Professor McGonnegal. NOT as a young girl/woman who is hysterically laughing at a joke only she is in on one minute and hysterically crying at nothing at all the next. Enough said.
The there is the matter of Jack. As you know, boy-o entered the third grade and has, quite possibly, the nicest and kindest teacher ever born. And while this is a great thing...it is also somewhat frightening to me. You see - she is kind and gentle and is used to Bella. Not Jack. Bella is kind and gentle as well...and Jack is....well...Jack. He says it like it is. I am hoping and praying that she didn't hear him yell to me: "Hey Mom - look - so and so (names are being withheld to protect the innocent) sits WAAAY up here. Far away from me - which is great 'cause I hate her!" at meet the teacher day. Does she know about his first day in Pre 4 when he pretended to be a dog on the carpet and lifted his leg and FARTED in another kid's face? I hope not. As far as she knows, from dealing with Bella - we are a kind and gentle people. We have nice, quiet children who tell you how pretty you are every day. Not children who pass gas on command and "hate bossy-boss girls so much that I could just sock 'em!" Oh yes - he goes there.
So Lord, I know that I ask a lot of you. However - you ask A LOT of me as well. You have given me several insurmountable obstacles in my life: You cursed me with the O'Neil legs. They will always be fat - always. No matter what I do. My thighs will always touch. That sucks. You made me fall deeply, deeply in love with a wonderful man...who snores. Loudly. And I love him - but the snoring is so obnoxious. And let's not even MENTION the whole early peri-menopause thing that now includes HOT FLASHES during the DAY as well as night sweats.
And there is also the matter of my teeny, tiny bladder...I mean the list goes on and on and on...So as I see it - you owe me one or two favors. And I am going to cash them in this year. So here goes - my solem prayer to you as we begin this new school year:
Dear Lord...Lord of all that is good and holy...Lord who curses lovely young ladies with fat thighs and early hot flashes....please watch over my babies as they embark on this journey of a new school year. Watch over Bella as she begins her Middle School career. May she be happy. May no nasty bitches single her out and pick on her. Because I will hunt them down and cut them. Oh yes - you know that I will. (Not really - but I WILL shoot them withering glances AND give them the STINK EYE) May she rise above the fray and understand that she is unique. With that sentiment in mind...Please let her understand that the crap they sell at Hollister is WAAAY too expensive and that she really doesn't want to look JUST LIKE everyone else who shops at Hollister. Please save me from having to go into Hollister and feel like a 40-year old senior citizen because I can't see the price tags and I am lacking oxygen to my brain from the cloying, obnoxious fragrance that is piped through the ducts there. And while we're talking about Bella - please blind all of those 13-year old boys who stare at her at the pool. OK - blinding may be a bit harsh. But make them stop looking at her like she is a delicious cupcake. She is eleven years old for Christ's sake. (Whoops - sorry) (Oh, and please render PC mute when at the Arena Club pool. When he refers to these young gentlemen as"pimple-faced douche-bags" out loud it is very embarrasing. And I already have those afore-mentioned thighs to contend with at the pool.)
Dear Lord, father or mother of us all, please put some sense into Jack's head. Please grant him the patience that he needs to deal with all of the bossy young ladies in his class. Please grant him patience and a filter - DEAR GOD - put a FILTER over that kid's mouth. Don't let him tell any MORE little girls that NO ONE WILL EVER MARRY THEM because they are so bossy. Don't allow him to fart on anyone on purpose this year. Please grant him the wisdom to understand that I know that he is not "allergic" to going to mass and that going to mass every Wednesday can, in no way, make him so sick that he "just might die right there in the church." Please make him just a bit afraid of me. Just a bit. Just enough fear to make him think twice before he sends that spy car into his sister's room while she and her friends are in there talking about boys. Please convince him that he does, in fact, need to work on his penmanship because contrary to what he believes, police officers DO have to write with pens. Oh - and please make him stop wanting to be a police officer. Because I cannot take that kind of stress in my old age. So please have the network cancel the show "Rookies'" and "Cops" that he loves to watch. Seriously.
And while we are talking about TV shows - can you please send discouraging thoughts to my kids about trying out for America's Got Talent. Because they are all over that like white-on-rice - and while I think their rendition of "Call Me Maybe" done with hand motions and banana phones is just adorable...it's really not. Howard would eat them alive.
Oh - and PLEASE let someone sail through 6th grade math with all Bs AND stop asking for a phone. Seriously - she's wearing me down. Perhaps you could appear again in a burning bush...or someone's IPhone and make an 11th and 12th Commandment:
Thou Shalt Not Get a Phone before High School.
Thou Shalt Not Allow Middle School Students to Communicate via Text.
Seriously - you'd get VERY good press for that. Not that you need it...but good press never hurt anyone.
OK - that's all for now. Lots of Luv...XOXOXOXOX
Busy Momma
Monday, August 27, 2012
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Whoops!
So - I titled this post "Whoops!" because it's become my new, favorite catch-phrase. I seem to be saying it all of the time these days. Because, you see, Busy Momma has been screwing-up BIG TIME lately. Now, I haven't set fire to the house or misplaced a child or anything like that. That would call for FAR saltier language than "Whoops!". So nothing like that. I think I've just been going in so many different directions this summer that I have definitely let a few balls drop.
Now, in my defense - my summer has been a bit nutso. I've done a great deal of traveling - both on business and for pleasure. And it has really taken its toll on my sanity. I was away 3 out of 4 weeks in July. And one of those weeks involved 3 separate suitcases FOR MYSELF. A suitcase for a meeting in Indianapolis Sunday-Thursday. Then flying home on Thursday - making a pitstop at home to switch suitcases for an overnight on Thursday. Driving home on Friday for a pitstop and exchanging suitcases for ANOTHER suitcase to go to Cape Cod. PLUS - I also had to pack bags for the 2 little ones a week in advance of leaving for the Cape as I was only dropping by at home to pick them up on our way. Now - not to toot my own horn - but that type of packing and pre-planning requires a level of organizational skill that would lend itself quite nicely to a position as Secretary of State.
Plus, I've had to do all of this with a broken foot that WILL NOT HEAL as quickly as I'd like it to. PLUS, I'm now back at work in what is the busiest and craziest 3 or 4 weeks of the year in my industry. So - while trying to manage my crazy travel schedule and get the kids ready to go back to school, and deal with the babysitter leaving for college - things have gotten a bit "rough" over here...pun intended!
So, here's the first big WHOOPS of the week. I have a little garden on the side of our house. Nothing spectacular - but it has a few rose bushes and a few hydrangea bushes and I love them. So you can imagine my horror at coming home from a trip and seeing a large, jungle-y looking VINE growing up the side of the house from my rose and hydrangea garden! I asked PC to go out there and chop it down - actually to tear it down QUITE NICELY - a few times. I was really nice the first 10 or so times I asked. Then, one day as I was working on a deadline of "have that impossible task to me by 3pm YESTERDAY" - I happened to notice that PC was looking at his computer screen - laughing. (This is the danger of having spouses who BOTH work from home.) So, not being able to resist and in my defense having a REALLY BAD DAY at work, I mosied on over to look at his screen. (Is that how you spell "mosey-ied"? Is mosied even a real word?) And to my delight - PC was looking at something completely un-related to work. And instead of laughing with him, I sweetly suggested that he might want to just run outside and tear that darned vine down from the house. And by "sweetly suggested" I might have threatened his manhood with a hedgeclipper if he didn't go outside RIGHT NOW and tear that mother-f$##*$g vine off of the mother-f&^%$#$%g house before someone blasts the Samford and Sons theme underneath our window late at night. Because he's OBVIOUSLY SOOOOOOOOO BUSY WITH GOD_D@*&^D WORK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
And that's not the WHOOPS part.
The WHOOPS part was my answer to the perfectly logical question he asked before he went to deal with the jungle vine, which was: "Do you think I need gloves to tear that thing down? Like you don't think it's poisoned ivy or anything do you?"
Here's the WHOOPS part.
I'm warning you - it's bad. Really bad.
I said something to the effect of "No, I DO NOT think it is poisoned ivy. I've already had to tear that vine down this past spring and I did it with my bare hands." WHICH IS TRUE - SWEAR TO GOD. I did. And I might have also thrown the words: "Don't be a pussy" in there for good measure. (I might have actually just thought that...but still...)
So - out PC went to tackle the vine.....of poisoned ivy.
Whoops.
So - imagine his and my shock the next morning when he woke up looking like a cross between the Elephant Man and Rocky Balboa after his fight with Clubber Lang. The ENTIRE right side of his face was pink and swollen. His eye was swollen shut, and he was a mess of pink splotches from his hairline down to his cheekbone. We both thought that perhaps he was having an allergic reaction to some sort of bug bite. And to make matters worse - he had a BIG client meeting that morning that he HAD to attend. Looking like he had been on the losing end of a bar fight. CLASSY! By that afternoon, the itching started and he had to hightail it to Urgent Care where the doctor diagnosed a really bad case of plant-based something something...poisoned ivy basically. He had to get a SHOT of cortizone, is STILL taking steroids and is applying Benadryl and Calamine lotion like they are spa treatments. AND it has spread to his arms and the other side of his face.
And I am currently looking for a new place to live.
Just kidding.
As if having a Dad who looks like an outfit Lady GaGa might wear to the Oscars wasn't bad enough- we then had what is now being referred to as: The Class List Debacle of 2012. My kids go to a private Catholic school. And we find out who we have as a teacher each year 2 weeks before school starts. The posting of the class lists is a HUGE event in our house as the kids want to see who will be in their class for the coming year. (They could really care less about who is TEACHING the class.) So - the lists came out earlier this week - while i was away on business - of course. And a calamity that one might associate with learning that the house you were living in was haunted by the ghosts of 12 murdered seriel killers ensued. What happened, you ask? Well, it seems that Jack and Bella weren't on ANY of the lists. They weren't in ANYONE'S class. We were overwhelmed with text messages, emails and phone calls..."Why aren't you on the list? Are you guys leaving the school? What happened? What's going on?......."
Now this REALLY TOASTED MY ONIONS. I mean for the love of God - I've bought all of the uniforms, I bought the pre-packaged school supplies, everyone has new socks and underwear, new school shoes and sneakers. I have worked so hard to have them ready to go back! We have new backpacks, our locker chandelier has fresh batteries, the shag carpet for the locker has been laundered and we are trying to convine the Elephant Man, I mean PC, to let us get magnetic wallpaper for our locker! I've done all of this in July and early August so that I have all of my ducks in a freaking row for school and the ONE thing the school has to do is just put them in a freaking class and they don't even get that right. God Freaking D#$&*t - help a Mommy out. And just make this whole mess worse - I am AWAY when I find this out and I have 2 crying kids staying with a very concerned Nanny and Poppy who can't IMAGINE why this is happening and are at DEFCON 10 with worry and hysteria.
I mean I am so organized that I TOTALLY remember getting all of the re-registration paperwork out, writing the check and putting it in Jacks' folder and then thinking:
"You Jackhole! You don't put a check for hundreds of dollars in the folder of an 8-year old boy! Put it in your purse and deliver it to the main office yourself."
Which I did.
Right?
I TOTALLY remember putting the envelope with the paperwork and the check in my purse.
Huh...funny, I can't remember delivering it. Huh....when did I drop that off?......
Whoops.
Now, one would think that the school would CERTAINLY send out an email or 2 to gently remind you to hand in that outstanding deposit, right? One, two or maybe 4 or 5...
Whoops.
You know, you find ALL SORTS of crap when you clean out your purse. I found a GREAT MAC lipstick I'd been missing. A half-full mini-tin of Altoids. A hotel receipt that I needed for work...a few expense reports ago and lo and behold...a crumpled up envelope containing my re-registration paperwork and a nice fat check.(And it was wet - which is slightly disturbing as I can't figure out why.)
Whoops.
So - what does this all mean? Am I suffering from the onset of dementia? Am I starting to lose my memory due to my peri-menopausal state of being? Is it West Nile virus? Am I sleep-drinking and having black-outs that I don't know I'm having? (That would be kind of cool actually.) Probably not. I think I'm just doing too much! I need a break. A brain break. I need a medically induced coma where my brain could rest and rejuvinate...like they do for your face at a medi-spa. But I can't find anyplace - within the United States - where a board-certified physician will put me in such a coma. Something about "things going bad when Micaael Jackson tried it" bullshit. (There goes the word "pussy" through my mind again....)
So WHAT is a Momma to do? I need help my Peeps! Am I doomed to have a crazy school year? Is this Class List Debacle a preview of things to come? If it is - this is all I can say...there is not enough wine in the world to get me through it. It might be time to dust off the old cocktail shaker....
Now, in my defense - my summer has been a bit nutso. I've done a great deal of traveling - both on business and for pleasure. And it has really taken its toll on my sanity. I was away 3 out of 4 weeks in July. And one of those weeks involved 3 separate suitcases FOR MYSELF. A suitcase for a meeting in Indianapolis Sunday-Thursday. Then flying home on Thursday - making a pitstop at home to switch suitcases for an overnight on Thursday. Driving home on Friday for a pitstop and exchanging suitcases for ANOTHER suitcase to go to Cape Cod. PLUS - I also had to pack bags for the 2 little ones a week in advance of leaving for the Cape as I was only dropping by at home to pick them up on our way. Now - not to toot my own horn - but that type of packing and pre-planning requires a level of organizational skill that would lend itself quite nicely to a position as Secretary of State.
Plus, I've had to do all of this with a broken foot that WILL NOT HEAL as quickly as I'd like it to. PLUS, I'm now back at work in what is the busiest and craziest 3 or 4 weeks of the year in my industry. So - while trying to manage my crazy travel schedule and get the kids ready to go back to school, and deal with the babysitter leaving for college - things have gotten a bit "rough" over here...pun intended!
So, here's the first big WHOOPS of the week. I have a little garden on the side of our house. Nothing spectacular - but it has a few rose bushes and a few hydrangea bushes and I love them. So you can imagine my horror at coming home from a trip and seeing a large, jungle-y looking VINE growing up the side of the house from my rose and hydrangea garden! I asked PC to go out there and chop it down - actually to tear it down QUITE NICELY - a few times. I was really nice the first 10 or so times I asked. Then, one day as I was working on a deadline of "have that impossible task to me by 3pm YESTERDAY" - I happened to notice that PC was looking at his computer screen - laughing. (This is the danger of having spouses who BOTH work from home.) So, not being able to resist and in my defense having a REALLY BAD DAY at work, I mosied on over to look at his screen. (Is that how you spell "mosey-ied"? Is mosied even a real word?) And to my delight - PC was looking at something completely un-related to work. And instead of laughing with him, I sweetly suggested that he might want to just run outside and tear that darned vine down from the house. And by "sweetly suggested" I might have threatened his manhood with a hedgeclipper if he didn't go outside RIGHT NOW and tear that mother-f$##*$g vine off of the mother-f&^%$#$%g house before someone blasts the Samford and Sons theme underneath our window late at night. Because he's OBVIOUSLY SOOOOOOOOO BUSY WITH GOD_D@*&^D WORK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
And that's not the WHOOPS part.
The WHOOPS part was my answer to the perfectly logical question he asked before he went to deal with the jungle vine, which was: "Do you think I need gloves to tear that thing down? Like you don't think it's poisoned ivy or anything do you?"
Here's the WHOOPS part.
I'm warning you - it's bad. Really bad.
I said something to the effect of "No, I DO NOT think it is poisoned ivy. I've already had to tear that vine down this past spring and I did it with my bare hands." WHICH IS TRUE - SWEAR TO GOD. I did. And I might have also thrown the words: "Don't be a pussy" in there for good measure. (I might have actually just thought that...but still...)
So - out PC went to tackle the vine.....of poisoned ivy.
Whoops.
So - imagine his and my shock the next morning when he woke up looking like a cross between the Elephant Man and Rocky Balboa after his fight with Clubber Lang. The ENTIRE right side of his face was pink and swollen. His eye was swollen shut, and he was a mess of pink splotches from his hairline down to his cheekbone. We both thought that perhaps he was having an allergic reaction to some sort of bug bite. And to make matters worse - he had a BIG client meeting that morning that he HAD to attend. Looking like he had been on the losing end of a bar fight. CLASSY! By that afternoon, the itching started and he had to hightail it to Urgent Care where the doctor diagnosed a really bad case of plant-based something something...poisoned ivy basically. He had to get a SHOT of cortizone, is STILL taking steroids and is applying Benadryl and Calamine lotion like they are spa treatments. AND it has spread to his arms and the other side of his face.
And I am currently looking for a new place to live.
Just kidding.
As if having a Dad who looks like an outfit Lady GaGa might wear to the Oscars wasn't bad enough- we then had what is now being referred to as: The Class List Debacle of 2012. My kids go to a private Catholic school. And we find out who we have as a teacher each year 2 weeks before school starts. The posting of the class lists is a HUGE event in our house as the kids want to see who will be in their class for the coming year. (They could really care less about who is TEACHING the class.) So - the lists came out earlier this week - while i was away on business - of course. And a calamity that one might associate with learning that the house you were living in was haunted by the ghosts of 12 murdered seriel killers ensued. What happened, you ask? Well, it seems that Jack and Bella weren't on ANY of the lists. They weren't in ANYONE'S class. We were overwhelmed with text messages, emails and phone calls..."Why aren't you on the list? Are you guys leaving the school? What happened? What's going on?......."
Now this REALLY TOASTED MY ONIONS. I mean for the love of God - I've bought all of the uniforms, I bought the pre-packaged school supplies, everyone has new socks and underwear, new school shoes and sneakers. I have worked so hard to have them ready to go back! We have new backpacks, our locker chandelier has fresh batteries, the shag carpet for the locker has been laundered and we are trying to convine the Elephant Man, I mean PC, to let us get magnetic wallpaper for our locker! I've done all of this in July and early August so that I have all of my ducks in a freaking row for school and the ONE thing the school has to do is just put them in a freaking class and they don't even get that right. God Freaking D#$&*t - help a Mommy out. And just make this whole mess worse - I am AWAY when I find this out and I have 2 crying kids staying with a very concerned Nanny and Poppy who can't IMAGINE why this is happening and are at DEFCON 10 with worry and hysteria.
I mean I am so organized that I TOTALLY remember getting all of the re-registration paperwork out, writing the check and putting it in Jacks' folder and then thinking:
"You Jackhole! You don't put a check for hundreds of dollars in the folder of an 8-year old boy! Put it in your purse and deliver it to the main office yourself."
Which I did.
Right?
I TOTALLY remember putting the envelope with the paperwork and the check in my purse.
Huh...funny, I can't remember delivering it. Huh....when did I drop that off?......
Whoops.
Now, one would think that the school would CERTAINLY send out an email or 2 to gently remind you to hand in that outstanding deposit, right? One, two or maybe 4 or 5...
Whoops.
You know, you find ALL SORTS of crap when you clean out your purse. I found a GREAT MAC lipstick I'd been missing. A half-full mini-tin of Altoids. A hotel receipt that I needed for work...a few expense reports ago and lo and behold...a crumpled up envelope containing my re-registration paperwork and a nice fat check.(And it was wet - which is slightly disturbing as I can't figure out why.)
Whoops.
So - what does this all mean? Am I suffering from the onset of dementia? Am I starting to lose my memory due to my peri-menopausal state of being? Is it West Nile virus? Am I sleep-drinking and having black-outs that I don't know I'm having? (That would be kind of cool actually.) Probably not. I think I'm just doing too much! I need a break. A brain break. I need a medically induced coma where my brain could rest and rejuvinate...like they do for your face at a medi-spa. But I can't find anyplace - within the United States - where a board-certified physician will put me in such a coma. Something about "things going bad when Micaael Jackson tried it" bullshit. (There goes the word "pussy" through my mind again....)
So WHAT is a Momma to do? I need help my Peeps! Am I doomed to have a crazy school year? Is this Class List Debacle a preview of things to come? If it is - this is all I can say...there is not enough wine in the world to get me through it. It might be time to dust off the old cocktail shaker....
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