A Wrinkle or Three

As I filled my pillbox this morning I thought….WTF?  Am I getting old or what?  I fill my PATIENT’S pill boxes, not my OWN.  I’ve tried filling Mr. Sake’s but I think he’s afraid I will see that he is non-compliant so he nixed that idea immediately.  Said I “messed him up” or something like that.

(insert eye roll here)

I KNOW I have a thousand and one some wrinkles.  Sometimes wrinkles just come with stress.  Sometimes with age.  In my case?  Probably both. 

I wake up looking like this:

 

 

See the eye puffiness?

Sucks.

I go to bed looking like this:

 

 

Puffiness is less, yes?  No, really….look closely.  See it now?

In all fairness, my kids look like this….

 

 

Oh, wait….I have three kids.  Not four.  Or maybe I do have four….??

Shit.

Anywhoozle, it’s BECAUSE of the kids that I am the way I am.  I had my first when I was just turning thirty.  That wasn’t so bad.  I could deal with one, I was fairly young still, I had it handled.  I was SUPERMOM!!!

 

 

Then, somehow, somewhere….ten years down the road another one arrived.  Lil Lady.

Ok, yeah….the oldest was 10, I was nearly 40 but who cares, right?  I can DO this, I told myself. 

And I did it.  Some help from Mr. Sake was well appreciated.  Also had some help from the first born until she got shit upon (literally)….so much for “big-sister-babysitter”.

Then I woke up one morning and saw that there was ONE MORE added to the bunch.  Little Man.

Wherethefuckdidhecomefrom I wanted to know.  And I wanted to know IMMEDIATELY.

 

 

Seriously.  I’ve been known to sit around and ponder my life and think….where the hell did these short people come from??  And that’s exactly how it feels.

One day it was me and one child, then it was me, a spouse and THREE children.  So, when I look in the mirror and see the wrinkles, I know exactly why they are there.  It has nothing to do with being old.

It has EVERYTHING to do with having kids.

The ones around my eyes are from the countless ways my children can make me laugh.  My oldest has a sense of humor that should be bottled and sold as a cure for PMS. 

The ones around my mouth are from the kazillion times these kids have made me smile.

The ones on my forehead are from “the look” I need to give them when they are doing something that they know I will kick their asses for that causes me to raise my eye brows.

The ones between my brows are a different story.  The kids cannot take full credit for them.  These wrinkles are the most special.  They belong to not only the kids, but the spouse as well.  You know the look.  It’s the are you fucking kidding me?? “what did you just say???”  look.  You know it.  I am sure.  And you know it well.

Regardless, I will embrace my wrinkles each day. 

As for the gray hairs I have noticed popping up here and there? 

There’s an app, I mean, there’s a color for that, I’m sure!!

 

Do You Want to Be on Top??

Valentine’s Day……

How was yours?  Mine started off with work.  I rushed through seeing a few patients before I had my own doctor’s appointment.  At my appointment I found out that my B12 level is extremely low.  Hmmmm……

I don’t eat enough meat.

It’s not that I’m a vegetarian, because I don’t eat vegetables either.

I just choose to get my energy from other sources.

 

I could live on White Chocolate Mochas.  In fact, I think I do.  And my blood work proved it.

So, I left the doc with a script in hand for B12 injections that I have to give myself weekly. 

 

I can do this.  I. Am. A. Nurse.

Fuck.  (that’s an entirely different blog post, I’m certain)

After my visit I had to pick up the teen from school.  Then off I went to pick up the short people from the sitter’s.  Lil Lady not feeling well.  Turns out she has “slight pneumonia”.  Really??  Is that like being “slightly pregnant”??  Also Little Man who was  just on antibiotics last week for one ear infection now has a double ear infection.  You’d never know by the way he was tearing up the doctor’s office.

After this visit I had to pick up all of our meds from the pharmacy.

After dropping kids off at home I had to run to a store quickly to get little Valentine’s gifts that I should have already gotten but didn’t because I’m such an awesome mom idiot.  Seriously…I had plenty of opportunities to do this.  I am a slug.

As I’m in the store having a conversation with some guy asking if I thought his girlfriend who always asks him to reach the remote would like one of these “grabber looking things”, the spouse calls to say a co-worker has stopped over to pick up a piece of equipment for work that I said she could use.  The equipment that was in my car, in the parking lot, at Five Below, and not at home.

It was a rush rush rush all day that I totally forgot I told her I would be home.

“Fuck!”

“Fuck Valentine’s Day!”

And that’s exactly what I said to the spouse on the phone.  He gives the phone to the co-worker and I say, as sweet as can muster up….

“Heyyyyy…yeah…..I forgot.  I’m so so sorry.  Wanna run up here to Five Below?  Yeah?  Ok…thanks!  See you soon!  I’ll wait outside for you!!  K!  Buh-byeeee!”

Shit.

The guy examining the “grabber looking thing” looks at me and says, “well??” 

 

I said, “I don’t know…I got my husband steak knives.”

He says….

“Fuck.”

Exactly, buddy….exactly. 

I just can’t get it all done.

I can’t.

But I did.  In the car, I shoved the little goodies in the bags, shoved in the tissue paper, made the gifts look pretty….and home I went.

The spouse had his gift for me sitting on the bed first thing this morning.  I refused to open it because I didn’t have his put together yet.  It takes a bit to make steak knives look like an awesome gift ya know. 

But look.  Just LOOK at what I got!!

 

Awesome, yes??

So, then I asked…..

“Oh, do YOU want to be on top??”

He had the nerve to say…

“I’m a little tired of being on top.”

Seriously, Mr. Sake??

 

Looks a little lonely in that recliner, doesn’t it??

Hope you all had a great Valentine’s Day!!

Change? Hell No!

I logged onto my blog the other day and noticed it didn’t look like my blog.  Instead of 3 columns, there was one….and the rest of my stuff was sitting down below all my posts.

If you know me, and even if you don’t, you can imagine my anxiety. 

I spent all of Monday evening trying to fix it.

I spent all of Tuesday evening trying to fix it.

Anxiety??

I was more than anxious.

I was PISSED OFF!

I wanted my old template back and I wanted it back NOW.

I tried consulting Real Dad…..

Oh, yeah….he asked if I was certain I wasn’t putting my things in the “footer widget” or something like that.

I told him I was sure.

Then I informed him kindly…..if he didn’t figure this out I was going to footer HIM in the WIDGET!

He then thought he’d get all technical on me and started talking some computer lingo about getting into my backend or something like that.  He said I could change my password when he was done.

 

 

I do not like change.

I go to the same gas station, the same pump, buy the exact same amount of gas each time, shop at the same grocery store, go to the same coffee shop and order the same damn thing every every EVERY day…..

Change sucks.

I spent all of Wednesday evening trying to fix it.

I DESPISE change.

I tried starting from scratch but this also did not work.

Mr. Sake enters the room.  He sees I am stressing out.  He sees I’m about to cry.  He sees that he needs to step in and take over. 

 

Mr. Sake also hates change. 

Mr. Sake also knows that if this issue isn’t fixed like A.S.A.P. there is going to be hell to pay until it IS fixed.

Mr. Sake also doesn’t have any experience with Blogger.  Or Wordpress.  Or Anyothertypeofbloggingservice.

I was scared.

Even though I do not get to blog as often as I would like, I take pride in my design. 

There is not enough Xanax in the world to calm my ass down.

Here’s me all youdon’tknowwhatthefuckyouaredoing and youcouldscrewupthewholedamnthingworsethanitis!!!

I just KNOW he’s gonna fuck it up.

I’m sorry, honey….you scare me sometimes.

It has something to do with you acting before thinking.  Then saying “I didn’t know THAT would happen….”

 

 

 

It’s been a full moon.

So, 3 days, 22 hours, 248 minutes, 22 xanax and 918 seconds later….

SUCCESS!

I don’t know how.

I don’t know when.

I don’t know if I could ever fix it again.

I DO know I saved the fucking template this time.

Booyah!!!

Bastards!!

Friends with Benefits

Today I found myself in the position of asking my 14 year old daughter what her “boyfriend” meant by a “friend with benefits”.  No parenting class and no amount of research in the world on how to raise a teenager could have prepared me for this.  Am I that stupid??
This is how it went down:
The Teen:  Mom, can I go to the movies with [insert boyfriend’s name here] and his one friend who is a girl?  She’s one of his friend’s with benefits.
Me:  What movie?  Whe…..WHAT??  Did you just say “friends with benefits”?? 
The Teen:  Yes.  Can I go?
Me:  What is this “friends with benefits”??  The name of the movie?
The Teen:  Um….No?
Me: 


The Teen: 



Seriously.
I’m trying to figure out if “friends with benefits” has some other meaning when you are talking to a 14 year old.  Does it mean “a friend that pays your way to the movie”?  Does it mean “a friend that will let you cheat on the test”?
I consulted a friend about this situation and she thought maybe it was “a friend that was gonna help them get free popcorn at the movie.”
I was afraid, yet I consulted the spouse.  Oh gawd, I know right??!! 
His response?



Oh yeah, I’m thinking he KNOWS there is no other meaning to FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS other than the one we know as adults.
So I researched it. 
According to Mark Cichocki, R.N., a nurse educator, this is what he found out after talking to a few teenagers:  
 “While talking to a group of teenagers recently, I heard a term that was completely new to me. Many of the teens talked about "friends with benefits". Being a naive father of three teenage daughters I had to ask what that meant exactly. I was shocked to find out that many teenagers from 14 to 18 years of age were developing a new type of sex only relationship. It was explained to me that boys and girls were "hooking up" for sex, both intercourse and oral, but did not consider themselves to be dating or in a intimate monogamous relationship. They considered one another to be "friends with benefits". The more questions I asked the more concerned I became.”

Excuse me while I puke  now.
Seriously.  I just don’t know if I am going to survive these teenage years.  How can I keep my baby safe?  How can I keep her from making the bad decisions??
Is she THAT naive that she didn’t realize what [insert her             EX - boyfriend’s name here] was referring to when he said that??  Did she think “Friends with Benefits” was the new TEEN CLUB?? 
Holy effing schnazzballs!  Can you imagine??




How do you keep your teenage daughters AWARE without putting ideas into their heads, yet giving them the knowledge to know right from wrong?  How do you keep them SAFE??

Chocolate Talks

Ok, once again I have been MIA for a bit.  You see, I sort of took a job that is not in my best interest, and I’ve been very quiet about it because I am sort of embarrassed at even saying I’m employed there.  BUT….guess what??  Happy Blog Fodder Day!! 

 

 

I QUIT!!

I sat down to write my resignation.  I should be a pro at this by now, but unfortunately, I am not.  It’s always difficult for me to say what is appropriate. 

I carefully got situated in front of my computer and began to type….

 

 

Somehow this didn’t sound right so I asked the spouse if it seemed a bit harsh.  He thought “yes, definitely yes”. 

I tried again…..

 

 

Ugh…still doesn’t quite FEEL right. 

With a bit of badass bitchiness a heavy heart I tried again……

 

 

I asked another source if this would be sufficient.  The response was….

 

”Tell ‘em how you REALLY feel!!”

 

Bwaaaahahahahaha!!  I thought I did just that!!

One last try….I know I can get it right this time.

 

 

OMG, I should make a side business out of writing resignations for people.  This is way too much fun!

I came to my senses and wrote a generic I’m-leaving-you-as-soon-as-possible resignation and I stomped into the facility….

……after business hours when I knew the boss would have been long gone…..

…..in disguise……

 

 

….and QUICKLY slid my letter under the boss’s door, held my head up high because I was proud, did not turn back, did not concern myself with the fact that someone may have seen me….and……

….RAN LIKE HELL because I’m a muther-truckin WUSS!!

 

 

Next time I’m going to take my Uncle’s advice and hand in my resignation the way he suggested.  After all, he’s “seasoned”, wise, and really has AN AWESOME SENSE OF HUMOR!!!

 

 

Nothing says it better than a box of chocolates!! 

 

Sayonara!!    May you rest in peace……

 

Hasta la vista baby!!!

 

 

再見/再见

 

 

Ohhh Hello Kitty…..you are so silly.

 

Too bad it’s not Valentine’s Day!!

 

 

I know, I know….cool, eh??

What Makes Me Happy?

I’ve been thinking lately and trying to focus on only what makes me happy.  I’m tired of bitching at the spouse about not taking out the trash.  I’m tired of nearly chaining my teen to her room to get her to clean it.  I’m tired of threatening the two short people that live here, aka the 3 and 4 year old, that I’m about to get out my trash bag so they better start picking up the toys that they don’t want out on the curb come Sunday night.  I’m tired of the insane drivers out there that can’t seem to wait their turn.  Blow your horn at me one more fucking time and it’s WAR, baby, W. A. R.

I’m tired of ignorant, nasty, rude people.  Don’t pretend you don’t know who you are.  Seriously.  Asshats.

 

AND I DON’T LIKE THEM.

 

So….what DOES make me happy? 

I’ve made a list.

• The short people that live here falling asleep before 8pm.
• The teen actually doing what is asked of her.
• The trash taken out before I have to roll my eyes and groan that not even the piece of lint I picked up off the floor will fit in.
• A new bag in the trash can on the rare occasion I’m not the one that has taken it out.  (Doesn’t it suck when you throw something away and realize there is no fucking bag AFTER the trash has left your hand???)
• Caribou Coffee….specifically a White Chocolate Mocha No Whip please.  These are da bomb!!  If could marry one, I would.

 

 

• A cashier that says, “Hi.”  That’s all.  Just “Hi.”  will do        it.  I’m not asking for the damn world here on a silver platter.  Just have a freakin clue!

 

Moving right along…..

 

• A good hair day.
• My kids.  Yes, they make me happy.  I swear they do.  Oh, okay….so I want to beat them several times a day, but after each beating…yep…I am happy with them.
• My spouse, when he vacuums without me nagging, and he rubs my feet after each 12 hour shift that I work, and he offers to give me a massage without any sex-pectations.   Oh, and he makes me extremely happy when he does all the laundry and cleans the entire house just because I am working night shift 12 hours on a Saturday and a Sunday.   What?  Ok, you are right…he doesn’t do any of these things.  But it sure would make me happy if he did.
• Quiet.  Peace. And. Quiet.  Simply stated?  Shut the fuck up!

 

• My dog.

 

  

• My patients at work.  Except for the select few assholes that have me walking up and down the hall just to see if they took a shit or not…most of them make me happy.
• My days off.
• A kitchen big enough to have a table in it.  Yep…my kitchen sucks holy fucking monkey balls and I’m not afraid to admit it. 
• The fact that I used to be “Royalty”.  It is true…you can check out the facts HERE. 
• My blog…and all the other blogs I read….they make me happy.  I can chill out, drink my White Mocha, forget I have children and read some really good stuff.  What pisses me the fuck off is that I don’t have enough time to do this.  What the hell, Life?  Can’t I just be a mindless, no-responsibility slacker and still make enough cash to pay the bills? 

 

So….these are just a few of the things that make me happy.  What are YOUR happy things?  Your favorite things?  Leave a comment…I’d love to know!  Maybe I can steal one or two….

 

Raising Animals

For those of you that have read my blog before, you know that I am a working mom with 3 kids, ages 3, 4, and 14, and a spouse that is still in training.  I’ve posted before about my children’s antics, and how they never cease to amaze me.  From my chaotic mornings to the day I thought I lost Little Man to me having my Biggest Mommy Tantrum Ev-ahhh  ….. I’ve had my share of reasons as to why I feel this “parenting” business is not about raising children, but it’s about RAISING ANIMALS.

Yesterday this was confirmed.

Thank you, Little Man.

You see….before Little Man, I only knew the workings of little girls.  Little girls are easy.  Little girls don’t climb.  Little girls don’t jump off the highest surface they can get up onto.  Little girls are decent.

Little girls would never think to pee outside…..

 

Not that my girls are angels or anything of the sort.  They can fight like cats.  And when I say CATS, I don’t mean cute little furry kittens, oh hell to the no!  I mean CATS!  The big furry ones with pointy teeth and sharp claws.  Animals…..

 

But yesterday…..OMFG…..this is a true story. 

The spouse was in the bathroom upstairs.  I ran downstairs to flip a load of clothes.  I faintly hear the spouse tell Little Man, “Hang on…I’m coming out.”  Now, Little Man is a bit over 3 years old and ever since our talk about the “poop police coming”, and also since I made him walk around without any pants or Pull-Ups until he took a shit on the potty, he has been pooping in the potty.  Like clockwork.  God forbid we are anywhere but near a potty at 5pm. 

So, when the spouse didn’t open the bathroom door right away when Manny jiggled the knob saying he had to poop, Little Man took matters into his own hands.

I came upstairs to the spouse asking where Manny was.  I said I didn’t know, I had been in the laundry room.  He relayed that Manny said he had to poop and maybe he went downstairs to use that bathroom.  I thought, oh shoot….and I turned off all the lights not knowing he was down there!

So I go downstairs.

No Manny.

No Manny in any of the rooms upstairs either.  We ask Little Lady where he went.  Little Lady, being 4 going on 24, says he went outside. 

WTF??  Alone??

Again??

We go outside to find Little Man standing where the dog usually does her business, his pants around his ankles, just looking at us.

And we look at this….

 

 

The interrogation from the Dad begins…..

“Manny.  Is this YOUR POOP???”

 

Well….it certainly looked like his poop.  And he WAS standing there with his pants around his ankles.  And he WAS a wee bit embarrassed to look us in the eye…..

 

 

And here I was, worried about the Little Man spewing F-Bombs in public rendering me totally humiliated.  I swear, if he ever feels the need to take a crap outside in public, I will personally check myself in at the nearest psychiatric facility.

What have YOUR little animals done to make you re-think this parenting business? 

Oh, and if you want to know more about my Little Man-imal….you can read it here.  Just don’t say I haven’t warned you.

 

Happy Thursday!!