Another round of change

Remember last fall when I announced that I was not going to babysit anymore? And made the announcement that I was going back to school? And how scared shitless I was?

Well, another round of change is in the works.

I took most of last December off and just enjoyed my family. Then I started college and went with the family to Disney World, all in the matter of a week and a half. Then Queen Tammy asked if I was still available to watch Princess because her sitter situation fell through and because she's my only best friend in the world I agreed to take Princess back into my care. We needed the money and she needed the sitter.

See, we hadn't thought the whole school thing through completely. By shutting the daycare down, I therefore quit making money. Yeah, hadn't thought of that one. I guess I thought that money would come out of my butt once I became a college student because well, back when I was 18 and a college student I had money. Of course, that was because I lived with my mother. Yeah, I'm not the brightest star in the sky sometimes. I kind of don't think a lot. I'm a writer, not a thinker. Yeah, mull that over, then laugh at me. I do.

Anyway, I then found myself overly stressed from vacation/school bombarding me all at once, having no money because Paul was still at Buffalo Run making slave wages and I took Princess back and another baby to watch part-time. And it's worked out wonderfully, don't get me wrong. I've been able to stay at home, work on school during naptimes and spend my last year with Kady before she gives me a serious case of Empty Nest Syndrome traipses off to Kindergarten and breaks her mother's heart. I also like to think that I made two mommies very happy.

Now, let me digress a moment and remind y'all that my husband is not the best communicator in the world. In fact, he isn't a communicator by nature at all. Paul's the kind of guy who will literally stand up in the middle of a conversation and go start moving cars off the carport so the kids can ride their bikes, even though he hasn't warned parents that he will soon be moving large vehicles and hasn't told us to gather up the children so they don't get squished. (Like he did Saturday night. And nearly gave us all heart attacks.) He just gets a thought in his head, decides to act and then acts. He doesn't mull things over like his neurotic wife. He doesn't talk about his feelings, his dreams, his thoughts or about.....well, he doesn't talk much at all, much less talk about things.

So when he sat me down a few weeks ago and said, "We need to talk" I immediately thought he was telling me he had cancer or that he was having an affair. Then I remembered that he refused to see the doctor over the pneumonia he'd had for a month until I forcibly loaded him up one day and took him to the doctor at gunpoint - so I knew it wasn't cancer because no way would he go to the doctor of his own volition. Even if he was walking along and his foot fell off or something. Then I thought that no woman in her right mind would want to have an affair with a man who grunts in response to questions, eats burritos at 11pm just so he can fart so rancidly under the sheets that I have had to change my pajamas because they are reeking of intestine, pees off the front porch even though we have two perfectly good bathrooms and thinks Hank Jr. is a god among men. Nope, unfortunately, he's all mine, ladies. No way it was an affair.

I was mildly perplexed and more than a little afraid.

He - or his pod person, the jury's still out on that one - calmly told me that he wanted me to quit watching kids. No yelling, griping, cussing or nastiness. Just calm, adult words, calmly spoken in a calm way. He said that when most families have children, the house grows up with the children. When one phase is done, you leave it behind: When the baby outgrows the crib or begins playing Houdini and escaping in the wee hours of the morning, the crib is stored and a big kid bed is purchased. When the baby is potty trained, the changing table is stored and diapers are just a stinky memory of days gone by. When the Terrible Twos (that lasted until she was four and a half) are done, the parents can stop drinking heavily on a daily basis and start enjoying their child. He said, "Our baby starts Kindergarten in a few months, Kristin, and I'm still hauling off shitty diapers. I think it's time we outgrew diapers. I want you to quit babysitting." Stunned, I wasn't sure whether to cry because that meant I had to get a job outside of the house, a place I try not to go, or hug him because he just strung together sentences that made sense and there was only one cuss word in the lot.

I have tried for years to get him to give me input on what goes on around here. So there was no way I was going to argue with him, although I think he was prepared to fight me tooth and nail if I refused. I picked my jaw up off the floor and said, "Okay. I'll tell them next week. Just let me emotionally prepare for their reactions."

Then my usual second-guessing kicked in and I started panicking. Where was I going to find a job that would let me go to class parties, field trips and assemblies? I'm incredibly spoiled to that, ya know. When would I find time to do my homework if I had a "real" job? I nearly drowned last semester working 45 hours a week here at home. When would I find time to clean my house? Because that is SO high up on the priority list. I was doing what I always do - doubting everything.

Then just days later I was offered a work-study job on campus in a wonderful office, working for an amazing woman who said I could get my hours in any way I wanted. I told my babysitting mommas that I was turning in my notice, so to speak. I gave Baby's momma about 7 weeks to find someone else and she cried. A lot. Then I told Queen Tammy that I wasn't available in the fall and I cried. A lot. But it's done.

How do I feel about this? I'm still pretty wishy-washy on it. Some days I embrace the idea of caring for only my children and my husband and my home. Some days I think "But I've taken care of other peoples's kids for 12 years! How will I know how to do anything else?" - what if I find I'm only equipped to wipe butts and noses for the rest of life? Some days I think that getting out of the house might be good for me. Then I remember that I really don't like people all that much. Some days I look forward to writing my book and (hopefully) doing some freelance writing as well. Then there are the days where I think that I might not be cut out to write after all and that people are just being polite when they say I have talent. And Cap'n Neurotic thinks he's cornered the market on neurosis.....

Regardless of my neuroses and fears, it's done. And once again, I'm scared shitless. Will there ever be a time in my life where I'm not? Nah. What fun is that?

It's that time again

The new stories are up at Write in the Thick of It, so go vote, mm'kay?

Voting is open until 10pm this Saturday night.

And hey, it helps to actually like, read the stories. Not that you, Constant Reader, would do that. That's probably only my little sister who just goes to the site and votes for me, never reading a thing anyone writes. Last night I told Mom and her about Hillbilly Mom's awesome story this round she said, "If I had read that, I'd have voted for her and not you! Because well..... I don't read your stories."

I'm so glad I have a wonderful support system. With love and support like that, I'll be on the best-seller list before ya know it.

Pith preempted

We took the kids to see Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End last night.

Toward the end of the movie a certain Captain Teague (Sparrow) makes an appearance and I was going to post here with a picture of Captain Teague and a picture of Keith Richards and caption it "Is it just me or does Captain Teague look like Keith Richards?"


Then, while Googling for pictures I discovered that Keith Richards actually does play Captain Teague.


So much for something pithy and clever this morning.



Oh and by the way: The movie freakin' rocked. I mean, rocked. I wanna be a pirate. I also need a life.

Yow

Yesterday I went to the dentist to finish up my last set of fillings. I wasn't too nervous this time - at least not like last time. I knew she wasn't going to hurt me too awful bad and I just wanted it over and done.

But again, like last time, she started drilling and I wasn't numb. Oh, I thought I was numb, I felt numb.....but I was wrong. So she shot me full of numby stuff again and proceded to seal my non-filled teeth while the numby stuff went to work.

Before she started sealing she told me that the sealant is very bitter and when she pulled her hands away to NOT close my mouth. Yay. I'm a big fan of "very bitter." Well, she went to squirt the sealant on a bicuspid and the dang thing exploded in my mouth due to, what she said was, a manufacturing defect. She said it had happened before. So of course it would happen on me then.

After she sealed the teeth she set to finishing with the remaining drilling. One cavity was on the back side of my last molar and she ended up putting a small chihuahua in my mouth to hold it open. I think there was a wedge to hold my mouth open and something else to hold my cheek out of the way, not to mention both of the dentist's hands and possibly her left foot, shoe included. And don't forget the chihuahua.

Oh and don't forget I was numb as hell at this point because of the extra shots. Apparently the small chihuahua got hungry while hanging out in my mouth and decided to gnaw on the inside of my upper lip and today I'm sporting a huge blister/abrasion thing.

Please, go to the dentist more often than every 8 years. Do it for your health. Do it for your teeth. Do it for the chihuahuas.

As I mentioned, Cap'n Neurotic came up from Texas this past weekend to get a new car (which Cedric thinks needs some spinnahs) and because he was up here and missing out on a party down there, I offered to throw a shindig for him. Turns out, I'm no better at throwing parties now than I was in high school. A whole 3 other invited classmates showed up. But hey, quality not quantity, right? Jonathan, Cedric, The Photographer, Tater, Cap'n and various spouses were in here for the festivities. And a lot of children. Or maybe it seemed like a lot and there weren't all that many.....

The evening consisted of eating, drinking, laughing, playing basketball, eating, laughing, making fun of yours truly, laughing, and laughing. I believe it was Jonathan that brought up the old Jello joke and I still to this day do not know how they found out (No, I'm not elaborating. It's an old inside joke and that's that). There were memories of our Competitive Speech and Band days and it was informally decided that Cap'n and I were the King and Queen of Nerd-dom seeing as how we were the only two of our little group that were in both Band and Competitive Speech. All hail us.

The children ran amuck. As usual.

My husband got drunk. That doesn't happen a lot. It was kind of fun, though. He's more fun when he's drunk.

The Photographer and I were here in the house for some reason and she was sitting on a barstool next to my kitchen bar while I made a fresh pitcher of sweet tea. She was quietly watching me then said, "Wow....you're all domesticated and stuff." I said, "Sweetie, I've been doing this housewife schtick for nearly half my life now. It's what I do." And then I got depressed and started looking for happy pills and booze. But I digress....

I personally suck at using the camera for commemorating events. My mother and sister cringe at my irresponsibility in that department. But I did let the kids take the camera for awhile. Here is what we got of the evening:



That would be Mr. Photographer and Cap'n and Sam in a sweaty, humid game of pickup basketball.

Cap'n said he never thought he'd leave Texas and still have to complain about the humidity.

Cap'n and Mr. Photographer again with about sixty gazillion children on the court. At least, it seemed like sixty gazillion at the time. I think the humidity made them multiply. You know how if you get a Mogwai wet it turns into a Gremlin? Yeah, Oklahoma humidity and children, same concept.

Tater's younget tot in blue and Sam in green. If the picture hadn't been taken from a half mile away, you'd see their flushed little faces. But gosh, did they have a good time.

I'm going to call Mr. Photgrapher to babysit sometime. I'd call Cap'n, but he's far away and I think he's afraid of children, lol. Or maybe it's just MY children.





And it's simply not possible to turn kids loose with a camera and not discover shots like these.

You gotta have a picture of the dog. Or a dozen pictures of the dog....





And elbows. They're very photogenic.

Hey, look! My roses are blooming!

My dearest Cap'n,

I know it wasn't your usual crew of friends, but I sincerely hope you had fun. I enjoyed most of the evening (you know which parts I didn't, lol) and just hearing you say a cuss word was worth cleaning my house.

Yours truly,
The Queen of Nerd-dom

Zach Braff snacks steroids nerds

I have discovered snack nirvana: Flat Earth baked fruit crisps. Good golly, not only is the taste wonderful, but I think a lot of why I lurve them so much is the texture. They're crunchity, but not too crunchity. The first bag I bought was the Apple Cinnamon Grove, but tonight I'm munching on Wild Berry Patch. Abby isn't crazy about the berry ones - says they're too tart. Okay, tart is my word, not hers. I think her words were something to the effect of "It wasn't bad when I first tried it, but then it started tasting like butt." Don't take her description, though. Take mine - they're yummy.

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A few movie reviews for you:

The Last Kiss - While I think Zach Braff is incredibly yummy and yes, I have his blog bookmarked, and I thought his acting in Kiss was just wow, I didn't like the movie. The girlfriend was wayyyyyyy too freaked out and her behavior just seemed very over the top to me. I don't know of many women who would react quite so violently. A few, but not many. The ending sucked ass and I was very pissed off the rest of the afternoon after I watched it. But yummy is just the best way I know to describe Zach Braff. Just yummy. Worth watching again just to see him get naked and stuff. His lips...his sense of humor.....his tousled hair....aw yeah.....I'd hit that.

Man of the Year - I like Robin Williams. A lot. I even liked him in that creepy movie where he stalked that family after developing their pictures at the photomat. He's a talented man. I like talented, funny men. I even liked his jokes in this movie. His delivery of the jokes is stellar, but the movie depressed me and left me relatively deflated. It wasn't what I expected and I was disappointed. Too dark and not happy for my taste.

Happily Never After - I love a good animated cartoon. Especially when Patrick Warburton and Andy Dick are involved. The kids laughed at the blatant cartoony stuff and I laughed at the things that were a little over their heads. Not sure why this movie didn't get more publicity.

Arthur and the Invisibles - I didn't finish the entire movie, but what I saw, I really liked. I liked the animation and the way the Invisibles were drawn/created. Sam watched the movie twice and is now on a total kick where he thinks he's been shrunk and stuff. I'm sure we'll end up buying it.

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Last night Tater's littlest tot ended up in the ER with an asthma-ish attack. He was - much to Tater's chagrin - diagnosed as being asthmatic as a baby, but he literally hasn't had an attack in 5 years. But last night he was doing that horrific wheeze that any parent of an asthmatic knows all too well. The ER doc put him on an oral steroid and an inhaled steroid, plus albuterol. The combination hypes him up, which is pretty typical. Tater warned me when she left the house that he'd get a little hyped and not to hold it against him.

Right before bed, the 5 kids, running on nothing but fumes and the chocolate pudding they had after dinner, were wound up beyond belief. I had told them to tone it down before Daddy/Uncle PaPaul got mad and started hollering. They were too busy being rambunctious to heed my warnings. I finally stomped into the living room and stood there with my hands on my hips until my icy stare penetrated their very souls and they all froze. I explained once more that they really had to settle down NOW. Then, silly me, I added, "TotTwo is the only one who actually has an excuse to be rowdy tonight." Oh the looks I got from the other kids! Mouths open, they were stricken speechless at the mere thought that someone had an excuse and it wasn't them personally. Kady asked why and I ignored TotTwo's smug grin as I explained, "He's on a medicine because he had an asthma attack last night. The steroid makes him a little hyper." I realized I should've just kept my mouth shut when Abby raised her hand and said, "Can I have a steroid?"

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The shindig for Cap'n Neurotic is tomorrow night. While we're not going to set any attendance records, the really important ones will be here and that's totally cool by me. Paul asked me what kind of thing this actually was. I said it was to mainly celebrate Cap'n's birthday, but at the same time allow a few of us to see each other since we haven't in about 16 years. He asked if anyone was rowdy, a thief, a drunk, sociopathic, etc. and did we need to lock up the guns and hide the priceless furs. I laughed and said, "Darling. You keep forgetting that I was a nerd in high school. These are my old Competitive Speech friends." He picked up the remote and dismissed me with, "So....if I fall asleep while you old geeks chat about computers and shit, will you wake me up if I start snoring?"

Because you gotta have frieeeeeeennnnnddddsssss

Poor Cap'n Neurotic. His cell phone died this week only to be resurrected much like Hillbilly Mom's son's laptop , the loveable Lappy (I'd link that particular post, but she goes around all movin' stuff and changing addresses and shit, that crazy hillbilly technogeek). Anyway, then....Cap'n's car died. We're not just talkin' stalled out on the side of the road, but actual "gave up the ghost, gone to the great Route 66 in the sky, kapooey" died. He may have Frankenphone, but I'm thinking there'll be no resurrecting the car. When Cap'm IM'd me the other night, I asked Paul if what he was describing was really bad for a car. Paul said, "Oh yeah. Probably fatal." Poor car. I hear it was blue. And old.

Anyway, long story short, it's Cap'n's birthday weekend, his TX friends had a party planned for him, but now he's coming home instead because he has to buy a new car and well, I'm throwing him a party. I am never one to overlook the opportunity to throw a shindig and eagerly volunteered. He took me up and the rest is history. While he gave me a list of folks he'd like to see, I've already run into a couple that have plans already. Guess some people make actual plans for holiday weekends, unlike me who was just going to sit around my clean house and swat flies. Now, I'm going to get to sit around the yard of my clean house, swat flies AND mosquitoes AND visit with some friends from high school. So far, though, the short list is full of folks I cannot WAIT to see and we are gonna laugh ourselves silly. I'm sure there will be plenty of competitive speech references, too. Once a geek, always a geek, as we geeks say.





By the way, did I mention that I made the Dean's Honor Roll?

The Dean of Awesomeness

Got a letter in the mail yesterday.

Made the Dean's Honor Roll.

They might give that out to every Tom, Dick and Harry that attends, but still, I tacked the letter on the bulletin board anyway. Anyone who walks in the house is taken directly to the bulletin board and this will probably occur until the next semester starts. I asked Mom if she wanted a copy to hang on her fridge. She politely declined. I told her I'd fancy it up with crayon colorings if she wanted. Still declined.

Some people are just no fun after their kids reach their mid-30's.

The British are flying! The British are flying!

Okay, so the British Flyers are all octogenarians now and don't do any flying, but you gotta admit it was a cute title.

Last night Operation Flying Brit went down successfully. Turns out, he couldn't have cared less about my cobwebs or lack thereof, he drank a Bud Light instead of white wine and even got in on teasing me about a certain pineapple tree. (Remind me to tell y'all that story sometime) He is an absolutely charming ol' fella and I hate it that California is so far away.

As soon as he and Mom got here, Mom went to the kitchen to help me get dinner finished. I told him to make himself at home on the couch. I then looked at the TV and said, "Oh boy, Collin. Looks like Paul is watching racing lawnmowers." Paul indignantly said, "It's a tractor pull. Pay attention, woman." Collin sat down and politely pretended to watch TV with my redneck husband. Mom sent Tater in to talk to him. I think he would've nodded off had she gone in there when she did.

He's retained his British accent after 45 years in the States and when I asked him what he would like to drink with dinner and he said, "I believe I'll have a beuh" it took me about 3 seconds to process his answer. Quickly, in my head, I ran through the list of what I had offered him and "beer" as the closest thing to a "beuh." I crossed my fingers and said, "I have Coors Light and Bud Light. Which would you like?" Imagine how relieved I was when he responded with "A Bud Light sounds great." Whew.

After dinner Mom asked him if he'd like some coffee. She had told me earlier in the day that he likes his coffee strong, bitter, and black. All I had was Folgers, so I threw in a few extra scoops and prayed it would be strong enough to suit him. When I put the coffee cup down in front of him he said, "Do you have any creum and suguh?" Agh! I brought him the sugar shaker because I don't have a sugar bowl - just a shaker like you find in a restaurant. I was standing in my kitchen with a bewildered look on my face, getting ready to reach for the Coffeemate when Tater walked by me and said, "Do not offer him Coffeemate." The bewildered look turned to panic until I saw Mom at the table mouthing the word "milk." I turned to open the fridge, then realized I had absolutely nothing to put the milk in. I just always pour it directly from the gallon jug into my coffee cup because in case you hadn't noticed I'm a redneck and I don't entertain all that much. And when I do entertain, well....my friends just pour their milk straight from the gallon jug, too. I stood in the middle of my kitchen floor again, taking a mental inventory of my cabinets. Nope. No small pouring type container in which to put the milk. Mom was sitting at the table, shaking and trying not to bust out laughing at my predicament, Tater was getting entirely too much pleasure out of watching me freak out. Finally I just walked to the table and said, "Collin, I don't have anything to pour the milk into for you. I just usually use the milk container" and I smiled cutely and hoped I was charming. He just laughed and said, "Not a problem. Just pour some in my cup for me, will you?"

We sat around my dining room table and visited for hours. He told us stories of the war, living in England, things about the Queen and Queen Mother and my gosh, the man has a laugh that reminds me of Santa Claus. In a matter of a few hours, I have become quite attached to him.

I hated to see him leave and hugged him tightly when he left. He hugged back, thanked me for hosting and then I sent him out the door with a "Good-bye! And please don't trip over a kitten, the dog or a stray toy!"

Mom and Collin left, Tater loaded her tots into the car, Paul and I got our kids tucked in and then we both collapsed onto the recliner and couch. We both sighed at the same time, then Paul said, "Dang This house is clean." I smiled and said, "Yeah. It's almost like being on vacation, isn't it?" He looked at me and said, "What are the chances of it staying this way?"

"Not good, dear. Not good. The kids will be up in 8 hours."

Like I care

Abby: Mom, what does "happy go lucky" mean?

Me: (without looking up from the laptop, but making very happy go lucky hand gestures) "Ooh I'm so happy. La la la. I'm lucky and I don't care about anything.

Kady: That means she doesn't care about your question. She only cares about her laptop.

Abby: Duh, dork. She was answering my question. Happy go lucky means you're so happy you don't care about anything.

Kady: Well, you gotta admit, she really loves that laptop.