Tuesday, November 25, 2008

A Thanksgiving Wish

Ok, so I am not going to be in town for Turkey Day, so I thought even though I am a few days early, I would leave my Thanksgiving wish for all of you. In honor of my Grandpa, who died a little over three years ago, I am going to do so in the form of what is called a "Turkey Note." Grandpa Ash used to write one every year for each member of the family, and they were great. My first one was when I was playing soccer in elementary school and I still have it. It is:

Lynn's a soccer player.

And a good one it may seem.

She can even score a goal

for the other team.

Obviously, my attempt will never measure up to his, but I am going to give it a go.

First, to my parents who read my blog:

You sent me away to college

to work toward a career

and now you get to read my thoughts

nowhere else but here.

I bet you'd like your money back

cuz my degree just ain't needed

to sit at home and birth my kids...

Man, I bet you're feeling cheated!!!

And to my brother who reads my blog:

The first blogger in the family,

you definitely do it right.

Your blog revolves around

God and all his might.

You make a lot of valid points

and speak with dignity and power

after all, you have a better topic

than what Will does while I shower.

And to my husband who reads my blog:

Sometimes I like to write about you

And throw you under the bus,

but I only do it figuratively

which is a good achievement for us.

The good thing is it's all in love

or at least in toleration,

which again is how I express myself

with the utmost moderation.

And to my friends that read my blog:

I really do love each of you

in our own special way,

which means that I will mock you

each and every day.

But if you ever need anything

like bail, babysitting or booze

just call on me and I'll be there

any day you choose.

And lastly, to those of you who read my blog, but I don't yet know you well:

Thank you for being there

to read my rants each day.

It really touches me

in a totally non-pervy way.

I didn't think that people would

care what I have to say

and the fact that you keep coming back

makes this the best Thanksgiving Day.

Happy Thanksgiving All!!!!

Switched at birth

I learned today that Will is not really my son. Ok, so I don't know that for sure, but the seed of doubt has been planted and someone with a greener thumb than mine is caring for it. I have always known that he doesn't look like me at all. He doesn't really act like me either, although he acts more like the Tasmanian Devil in Warner Brothers cartoons than anything else, so I am not sure that is indicative of anything. He loves to read, so that is kinda like me... but our taste in books is totally different. I am reading Jen Lancaster's Such a Pretty Fat and he is reading Little People A Trip to the Zoo. It has way too many doors to open for my taste, while Lancaster's dry sense of humor doesn't keep his interest. Nor does he care about her dieting problems, because let's be honest... he's never dieted a day in his life. How could he relate? But, those differences aside... his behavior this morning was the clincher. He woke up at 6:00a this morning like Mr. Perk Perky Perkerton and has yet to blink or yawn.

Picture Angelina Jolie screaming "That's not my son." That was me this morning although slightly less 1930's glamour and slightly more poundage. But, my plaid pajama bottoms and smudged mascara (both of which I am still wearing 3 hours later) just don't evoke the same image, so picture her instead. To say I am not a morning person is not even a strong enough statement. If I had my druthers, I wouldn't bat an eye until close to 10a. Ok, if I really had my druthers, I would not be even semiconscious until closer to noon. But, I have Will... and Jack... and Tabbi... and no druthers. If someone sees my druthers, please let me know. And can someone call Murphy and ask him to for a vote to change his laws? Because today, the day that Will decided to awaken earlier than roosters (well, I don't know that for sure, but I am willing to call Laura and ask), Jack was sound asleep until 7:30a. Not. Fair. At. All. If it weren't for Will's need to rise before the sun, I could have been asleep til 7:30a. I find it morally repugnant to be aroused prior to Good Morning America and today I was totally Good Morning Indiana. Sick and wrong.

So, I am putting a call in to St. Vincent Women's Hospital to find my real kid. He will be the one still sleeping soundly this morning. I will return the one that has spilled croutons all over the kitchen table, ripped a Styrofoam ball to bits and scattered styrodust all over the playroom floor, dumped Tabbi's cereal milk into the fish tank to feed the fish (don't worry, the last fish died over the weekend so he's not a murder), emptied the cleaning closet of all brooms, mops and vacuums, is playing an extremely loud electric sounding guitar and decided that diapers are for sissies (not yet potty trained) all by 9:12a. "I WANT MY SON BACK!" Sorry, channeling Angelina again.

Monday, November 24, 2008

It takes two...

So last night, I asked Mark to change Will's poopy diaper, and you would have thought I said to do it with his tongue or something. It was pretty clear that he didn't want any part of it. Now, its pretty clear that I don't want any part of it either, duh... who does? But I am up to my elbows in poop Monday through Friday, so it seemed only fair that he take one for the team last night. He, later, didn't disagree... but he didn't agree either. It appears that we might have differing opinions of what our "jobs" are. For the record, before Mark leaves a pissed off comment, he is very good at helping out and blah blah blah, so this isn't meant to be a blast Mark blog post. I save those for when they're really deserved (like the Uverse/fish post). But, it does warrant looking in to... what are the expectations of a stay home mom... when Dad is at home, too?A certain someone I know (cough... Homa's boyfriend...end cough) has said that if he is the one earning the money, he expects to not have to do anything at home. I kind of get that. In our house, Mark brings home the bacon (or chicken breasts, or ground sirloin... depending) and I cook it. I take care of the laundry, day to day keeping alive of children, Tabbi homework, etc. Sometimes he cleans the kitchen after we eat, and does the dishes, other times I do it. I don't clean, because we have a cleaning service (thank God and Mark's parents) and he tidies up at the end of the night. Its a pretty good system. But, on the weekends, its a different story.

I left with Tabbi for the morning on Saturday and came home hours later to the exact same thing I left. Dishes strewn about, children undressed, husband in all his greasy unshowered splendor. I walked in and you would think that I was Ed WhatHisName with a check from Publisher's Clearinghouse. I am not Ed Anyone and I ain't got no money. But, the two boys and no mommy supervision was almost more than Mark could take. He breathlessly said "I don't know how you do it" the second I walked into the room. He's never been so happy to see me in our lives. Then, we had the diaper incident on Sunday and I just didn't get it. Isn't he equally responsible for their care as I am? Or, shouldn't he be?

Saturday and Sunday, I believe that we should share responsibilities. I didn't make these three kids on my own, and I had no part at all in one of them. So, I expect that Mark will load a dishwasher with Jack's bottles and change Will's diaper. I realize he works 40 hours a week and enjoys his days off, but I am pretty sure my hours are longer and I don't get any days off. I am still waiting for my vacation leave to kick in, I guess. The interesting thing is that I don't think Mark is opposed to helping out. He seems to take orders pretty well, if poop or lawn mowing is not involved. It just doesn't occur to him to do any of it on his own. But, I want it to. Its a little something called "female insanity" because I fully expect him to know to do everything and resent it when he doesn't or when he does it differently from the way I want it done. But, I don't want to have to tell him to do it, either. And since I didn't thrust this children upon him... and they've been around for awhile, I don't think that is uncalled for in this instance. Figure out the chores and responsibilities of keeping the house running, read my mind to make sure it gets done the way I want it to, and do it. That's not unfair, right?

Saturday, November 22, 2008

Pretty in Pink

I am conducting a survey. As I may have mentioned (once or 2,000 times) I am turning 30 soon. By soon I mean next Thursday. The big 3-0. This entry is not about the age, though. That mental breakdown may come next week. Instead, I am posing a question to you... my readers, my friends... my brutally honest commenters (even those of you that save the brutal honesty for emails after the fact... right, Laura).

Am I too old for pink extensions in my hair?

For those of you who don't know me outside of Cyberland, I have a history of... uh... unique hair. I spent college and the first half of my professional life experimenting from bleach blond (not a highlight) to bright blue (really fun) to blond with pink tips (love it, but it didn't photograph well) to jet black (very goth). And just about every hue in between in every configuration you can imagine. I loved it. But, then I got a job at a national staffing firm, and well... professionalism was required. I hate that. And after, I thought that since I was a mom... I better look the part. Well, call it a midlife crisis (if that happens at 30... God help me at 40 or 50), or just a desire to mix things up, but for my birthday I have booked an appointment with Cari of Rumors Salon to get an all over dark brown color and another appointment to add hot pink extensions. They won't elongate my hair, because I can't afford that (although I would LOVE to do it, Cari, if you ever read this and want to give me a discount to advertise on my blog... hint hint). But, it will thicken it and most importantly, add some serious hot pink. LOVE IT. But, alas, Homa said that pink hair isn't cute and seems to think that its a poor choice. So, I pose it to you, my loyal friends and confidants. Are you with me or against me? A Homa or a Lynn? Bring it on. I can take it.

Is there such a thing as being too old for pink hair?

Friday, November 21, 2008

Domestic Goddesshood...

So, yesterday I had the world conquered. I had a to-do list and I got it to-done. As a stay home mom, it just doesn't get better than that.

I started the day with a strict agenda. Tabbi had a girl scout meeting last night, and I had to have things ready. She needed a family tree and a dish that represented her heritage for their non-traditional Thanksgiving dinner. I needed to finish the laundry and clean the fish tank. And, I needed to prepare the meal that I had scheduled for my family's dinner. Sounds like a piece of cake, right? Well, in my case, the piece of cake is usually too dry and crumbles to bits... but not yesterday. In addition to feeding and caring for Will and Jack, I accomplished all assigned missions. I made two full meals, I did the laundry, I cleaned the fish tank (and flushed the two corpses that were at the top... for anyone counting we are down to only two fish now...) and I made Will Spaghettios for lunch (his first time eating those oddly fluorescent orange noodle-like treats... single tear). When all was done and the boys were still napping, I even had time to sit down and organize a get together with the ladies. I am good. Oh. So. Talented. I was one frilly apron and a string of pearls away from Donna Reed and proud of it.

Then, we sat down to dinner. The All in One Meal Meatloaf that looked so promising in the magazine was barftastic. The meatloaf didn't actually cook, and I am pretty sure meatloaf tar tar is a poor choice. The thinly sliced potato layer, that I spent forever on as I had to peel the potatoes (who does that????), were strangely fiery hot and yet completely hard and uncooked at the same time. All in all, my All in One was a colossal failure. In addition to my culinary failure, I managed to dry a white long sleeve t-shirt (my uniform) and set in a a stain that I was previously determined to get out through 400 washings if need be. But, no... I was in a hurry to get back to my All Full of Crap Meatloaf, that I didn't bother to check it and spray, wash, repeat. And, I am pretty sure our surviving fish (Chubbers One and Two) are on their way to the fish tank in the sky, because they are both hanging in the "race car" and not moving. I am pretty sure if it were a convertible, they'd be at the top o' the tank, belly up.

So, good thing Betty Crocker didn't show up to issue me my a-line 1950s dress, heels and red lipstick to fit in with the other Domestic Goddesses, because I have fallen from grace. I rescind all bragging and boastfulness from yesterday (to those I bragged and boasted to) and vow to leave all potatoes up to Ore-Ida and their culinary genius aka frozen tater tots.

Thursday, November 20, 2008

Eight Year Old Murderer???

Am I the only one confused by the way the world is going right now? I am not talking politics or economy or Barack Obama... but what is going on with people today? How do you go from attending your third grade classes to shooting two adults with a .22? I just don't get it.

I have heard the news accounts and read the Arizona Republic article on this child, and I just don't know what to think. Did he do it? Was he coerced into admitting it because the two adult interrogators put the pressure on? He never really admitted to doing it, he just said he thinks he did because the men were suffering from wounds inflicted by an unknown attacker. My words, not his. Obviously, he would have told the story in eight year old verbiage, which I think makes the whole thing that much more sad. At one point he said, "... I went upstairs and I saw him. And there was blood all over his face. And I think I touched him. I just kind of checked to see if he was a little bit alive." Can someone who says "a little bit alive" really be a cold blooded killer? And more importantly, if this little boy whose life should be Ninja Turtles, soccer and the Diamondbacks became a killer, the key question is why?

He owned the .22 because he was a hunter. It was given to him by his father. So that begs the question, should we be training little children to hunt? I know hunting was prevalent among all ages in the past and blah blah blah, but in the past you hunted for food, not sport. Even the kid's story of "they were suffering so I was putting them out of their misery" is a hunting idea. Wound the deer, track the deer, shoot the deer to kill it. But then again, lots of kids hunt and don't kill their parents. Is it video games, violence on tv, a lack of parenting and teaching right from wrong? Did his dad not give him enough attention, did someone give him the wrong attention? I'm not asking to find someone to blame for this little boy alone. I don't want to point to Uncle Greg and say, "Oh, so its your fault," glad that settled. In truth, this kind of thing is happening more and more, so if Uncle Greg is to blame for this little boy, who do we blame for all the others? Really... how does this happen?

This little boy is not the only one. You have that Florida woman who allegedly killed her daughter, but then staged it as a kidnapping. Obviously, she was a grown adult and not a child, but that doesn't change the insanity that is taking over. What is happening in your psyche to decide that its time to murder your child. Andrea Yates, are you reading this, because I just don't get it. I don't even know the details of this Florida case, but I know its weird and obviously sick and wrong. What makes a person just decide to murder their daughter that day? Is there no regard for consequences? Does she not know right from wrong or just not care? If you are not cut out for parenthood, can't you find a better solution than that? Did she just not have a support structure to turn to for help or was she so far gone she didn't even recognize that she needed help until it was too late?

I don't know. I want answers, though, and I am not sure who can give them to me. How 'bout a show on this Dr. Phil? You seem to know exactly what to do about people brainwashed by religious cults, serial shoplifters and binge eaters. Let's turn your "expert" eye onto something just a wee bit more important. I am not an expert on anything and I realize this blog entry is not very clear, and I further realize I have no profound commentary that will open our eyes and say... hey, that's the answer. But I really think this is a question that needs to be out there. How does this happen and what are we going to do to make it stop?

Wednesday, November 19, 2008

Property Laws of a Toddler

Mark's Grandmother, Eleanor, sent us the cutest little snippet about toddlers. I have no clue where it came from, so I can't give credit, but it made me laugh out loud so I am going to copy it here.
  • If I like it, it's mine.

  • If it's in my hand, it's mine.

  • If I can take it from you, it's mine.

  • If I had it a little while ago, it's mine.

  • If it's mine, it must never appear to be yours in any way.

  • If it looks like mine, it's mine.

  • If I saw it first, it's mine.

  • If you are playing with something and you put it down, it automatically becomes mine.

  • If it's broken, it's yours.

As the mother of a toddler, who mastered the "mine" concept promptly upon his 2nd birthday, I have a few more to add.

  • If I see it on tv, it had better be mine stat.

  • If it used to be my dinner but now it's in my diaper, it's yours and you better clean it up fast because I am going to squirm and kick until my mess is shared with the whole ottoman.

  • If I stopped wanting it a few minutes ago, but Tabbi looked in it's direction, it's mine again.

  • If it's sharp, pointy, hot or dangerous in any other way, shape or form, it's totally mine.

  • If it's medicine (other than the pink stuff), ear drops, or a Kleenex, it's yours and you better keep it away from me.

  • If it belongs to someone else, fits in my hand, mouth, or the couch cracks, it's mine and you will never see it again.

  • If it makes loud noises, it's mine the second Jack drifts off to sleep.

  • If it will cause my parents any embarrassment, it's mine and I will exercise my right to use it at the most inopportune times.

Now that we've got that settled... parenting a toddler will be much easier to figure out.

Tuesday, November 18, 2008

Let's get political... litical...

The title is meant to be sung to the tune of "Let's get physical." That Olivia Newton-John knows her stuff. Anyway, lots of the blogs I read have done their thing with Prop 8 in California, and even though the vote happened awhile back, I guess its my turn. In true Lynn fashion... I am just going to rip the band-aid off. No counting to ten and slow peel for me. So, here goes...

Dear California,

You're wrong.


Ok, I am going to have to expand a little. I took a quiz yesterday that was supposed to be one word answers and I couldn't do it. So, I can't just write that note and let it go.

I am saddened by the outcome of the Prop 8 vote, and I personally think that mankind (and womankind and dogkind and kidkind and all other kinds) should all be sad, too. Basically the outcome is that one group of people gets to continue to be persecuted and labeled as "less than us." Everyone is free to have their own opinions (especially if they match mine) and you don't even have to be pro gay marriage or a friend to the homosexual community. You can still think its a sin and believe they are wrong for doing it. But, Keith Obermann said it best.... how is gay marriage hurting you? The consensus is that they can get all the same legal rights as a hetero couple, but they can't use the word marriage. Why? If Ellen and Portia tie the knot, does that somehow affect your marriage? Should your marriage somehow be viewed as less sacred now that two people of the same gender got married? That's crazy. Because if your hetero next door neighbors has a marriage that ends in divorce, did that somehow invalidate yours? And really, for all of those "sanctity of marriage" people, give me a break! Like there are no hetero couples that violate the sanctity you so believe in? If you cheat on your spouse, and it leads to divorce, no one is saying you can't legally marry again. And, am I wrong, or do you then have a history of violating the sanctity of marriage? And what about people who marry for money, green cards, or the drunks that hit the chapels of Vegas? They are legally allowed to vow to stay with someone until death (not sobriety) do they part, but love and commitment have nothing to do with it. With the divorce rate what it is, us heterosexual folks aren't doing a bang up job protecting that sanctity on our own.

I live in a state that is so right-wing conservative that gay marriage will never be allowed. The majority of Hoosiers' heads would explode before they would consider voting yes on something like gay marriage. (Unless you're reading this, Governor Daniels, and want to prove me wrong. Let me know, because I would be happy to help you leave a legacy of love, tolerance and acceptance in this state, if you're game). California is so progressive in comparison that I had high hopes when I heard about this hitting the ballots. I thought that the people lucky enough to live in a state where they had a say in promoting equal rights would end up saying the right thing. I guess I was wrong, and that just makes me sad.

Monday, November 17, 2008

Pillow Talk

My feet are freezing, so I stick them under Mark's legs in bed.

Mark: Your feet are icicles!

Lynn: Not ice, technically, as they are not made out of water. Lynn-cicles.

Mark: Ok, fine. Your feet are little Lynn-cicles.

Lynn: But, they're not little. Really they are big Lynn-cicles. More like icebergs. They are Lynn-bergs. But not in the "Charles" sense.

Mark: So you're not going to fly over the ocean.

Lynn: No, but I may sink some ships.

Romantic, yes?

Sunday, November 16, 2008

My Readers, My Friends

You gotta love a group of people that loves Diet Coke as much as me. The beverage poll ended with more people loving Diet Coke than other beverages. So, to you fellow addicts, I leave you with this:One word... ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

Friday, November 14, 2008

I'll be home for Christmas...

After much soul searching, my family and I have made a life changing decision. We are staying home for Christmas. Most of you are probably saying, "Duh... who doesn't stay home for Christmas?" And the answer is me... and my entire family. Its My Big Fat Greek Wedding, without the Greek and making it Christmas dinner instead of a wedding.

I lived in Iowa in the same town as my grandparents, aunts and uncles (save one set) and cousins until I was 14, when we moved to Kansas City. Despite the move, we still traveled to Iowa for Christmas every single year. This year would make the 16th time. Our Christmas dinners consist of roughly 30 or so people crammed into my Grandma's house. Its loud, crowded, HECTIC, and lovely. I told my husband prior to our engagement that Christmas is the one holiday that I was non-negotiable on. I go to Iowa, I spend it with my ENTIRE family... period. Take it or leave it. So even after betrothal and marriage, we still went to Iowa. Now I have children, and I am changing my life long family tradition.

I dream of a Christmas for my kids like I had, before I moved to Kansas. I want them to wake up and run to the tree and see an unbelievable pile of gifts waiting for them. I know, Christmas is about Jesus's birth yada yada yada, but its also about creating memories that last a lifetime. And I remember the tree, and us in our pjs, and tearing into gifts and then playing with them until passing out. In Iowa, we open gifts Christmas morning, but its after we all shower and we hurry through it, pack up the toys into our car and start setting up for the Christmas feast. Its no one's fault, and its not a bad way to do it with adult kids, but this year my son Will is going to know about Santa for the first time. And I want him to think Santa came here, to his home. My Mom and I were struggling about how to get his gifts to Iowa because they're large, and don't tell her... but Tabbi is getting a bicycle. I want her to come down to the family room and see the bike with a big red bow and not open a picture of it in Iowa because it couldn't fit in the car. Some dream of a white Christmas, but I dream of the right Christmas and for the first time, I am going to make it happen.

That being said, deciding to stay home this year could be one of the most difficult decisions I have ever made. Christmas to me isn't Christmas without my Grandma, my Aunts and Uncles, my cousins and now my cousins' children. We will have Christmas dinner here, and I already wonder how loud that quiet will feel. I will miss Grandma's insistence on doing the dishes after dinner, and the giant cookie tray that she makes and refills 100 times during that day. My Uncle George camps out in the recliner and makes these super funny, while slightly off color remarks that make you laugh and cringe at the same time. Heidi, my cousin, dresses her girls in these gorgeous Christmas gowns, and its like watching a holiday fashion show when they come in. And we do a family gift exchange where every adult brings a gift for under $30 and we do it "white elephant" style. So, you could end up with a Dooney and Bourke handbag or a farting Santa Claus (depending if you get my cousin Tim's purchase or my brother Mike's).

What's worse, is I feel like I have made my parents and brother choose a side and that feels horrible. Who is anyone kidding, my parents picked their grandchildren, and rightfully so. My brother is still figuring out the logistics before he commits to anything. So, I run the risk of my first Christmas without him in 30 years (because I'll be 30 by then). But, I guess the way to look at it is that we are starting a new family Christmas this year... complete with mass on Christmas Eve (but skipping dinner at Great Aunt Rosemary's) and opening gifts in footie pajamas, but missing out on the prime rib. We will go to Iowa on the 26th, so I will miss the crowd by 24 hours, and the idea of that still breaks my heart... but I hope to fill that break with the smiles and awe that will fill Will and Tabbi's faces when they see that Santa has come... to their home.

Thursday, November 13, 2008

Just a wee bit crazy...

I mentioned in my first "introductory" blog post that my grandmother moved in with my parents last year. Before the move, she lived in either Massachusetts or Oregon, and we were Midwesterners, so I never really knew them all that well. We visited once a year, at most, and they couldn't really be called "kid people" while we were there. They were pleasant and all, but not fall to the floor and play types. So, now that she is here full time, I feel like we are getting to know her for the first time. And that, my friends, is an experience.

She turned 90 years old last February, and if you ask her, she is sharp as a tack. I, however, have come to the conclusion that she's just a little bit nuts. I cannot attest to whether or not this is a condition that has existed a long time, or if its fresh 90 year old senility. Don't get me wrong, its a good nuts, an amusing nuts... but nuts nonetheless. Here's a couple examples...

The other day I get a phone call from her. I was on the other line, so I didn't pick up. I listened to the voicemail and she proceeded to tell me that she saw that I called, but she missed it. She assumed I was calling for my mom, so she wanted to call back and let me know that my mom was walking her dog and she would have her call when she returned. Normal, right? No. For starters, I never called there. I even checked my call log on my phone to make sure Will didn't do it. Nothing there. Second, I could hear my mom's dog barking in the background during the entire message, so if he was out walking, she would have to have been right beside him. And last, I called my mom later to figure out what was going on and she said that she was standing in her bedroom when my grandma made that call. So, really, my grandma called responding to a call I didn't make to tell me that my mom was out walking the dog, which she wasn't. Good communication.

Today, I got yet another dose of kook. The cleaning people were here (yes, I am a stay at home mother with a cleaning service... life is good) and I took Will, Jack and Bentley Woof to my parents' house to be out of their way. We are watching The Bonnie Hunt show, total Ellen rip off but Ellen is opposite The View and I love me some View, so I miss Ellen and watch Bonnie at 10. Now that that's cleared up, Bonnie had some Dancing with the Stars folks on and my grandma is a HUGE fan of that show. We were talking about how damn cute Julianne Hough is (hate that girl) and she proceeds to tell me that she has been watching Julianne and her brother Derek dance on that show since they were 8 or 9 years old. The show first aired in 2005, so that would make them 11 or 12 now. She looks young, but not that young. The best part is that she proceeded to talk about how she would watch it with my grandfather when it was on and how much they enjoyed the program. Grandpa died in November of 99.

So that's a little intro to 90 year old Grandma Nutty. The sad part is, I am 29 (for a few more days) and at 29 I am probably just about as senile as she is. So, God help me when my granddaughter is blogging about me in my 90s! I will probably be committed.

Wednesday, November 12, 2008

This is serious...

There is something going on with my hair. I don't mean a perm, mullet or even a perpetual bad hair day. This is way more serious than that. I know... more serious than a mullet? Is that possible? Yes. My hair is falling out. I don't mean in chunks or anything, so I am pretty sure no witches put spells on me a la The Craft, and I am thankfully not undergoing any medical treatment that should cause such a issue... but by God, I am going bald here people!!!

I have a serious thing about my hair. Not that its ever been a thing of beauty like my friend Zain, whose hair could quite possibly be the most beautiful hair of any person walking around outside of Hollywood. If I had hair like hers and it was falling out, I would be on the next jet to the Mayo clinic demanding answers and cures. But, even though my hair is mediocre at best, I am really attached to it. No pun intended. I once asked for a trim and the hair stylist from Hades cut my hair SUPER short. I cried immediately and for the entire rest of the day (and off and on for a week after... but whose counting). I am talking Winona Ryder pixie cut short. And, believe me, I don't look like no Winona Ryder.

So, every time I wash my hair a huge tangle of hairs remains on my hand, not to mention the clump in the teeth of my comb. I am rapidly going bald and have no excuse whatsoever. So, this is the start of my emotional demise. I thought it would be the children, but no. Its the hair. I am doomed to spend the rest of my life as a Michael Chiklis look alike... and not even strong and buff "The Shield" Michael Chiklis, but who am I kidding...the Michael Chiklis of "The Commish." God help us all.

Monday, November 10, 2008


My God in heaven, I feel like I have been reborn. I finally have Internet, TV, and a home phone. Its a miracle, I tell you. A Christmas miracle (I can say that, because even though its November 10th, its Christmas in all the stores). I can't believe I've been down for a week and a half (thanks, AT&T and your crackerjack customer service... Yes, Rajeed, that was a thick layer of sarcasm). What's more, I cannot believe I have missed commenting on some major events both nationally, globally, and in my own life. So, in case you care, or more importantly because I care... I am going to provide some snippets now.

So, of course, the major announcement.... Barack Obama won! Sorry Laura, but HA HA! I ran around singing "We Are the Champions" until I realized that just because the guy I voted for won, doesn't mean that I am heading to the West Wing. I loved that show though, and continue to delude myself that I will be CJ Craig some day, although less tall and unfortunately much less skinny. But, I salute our new commander in chief and take pride in the fact that my kids will be raised in an era that never knew that an African American couldn't be President. That is pretty huge. I credit my parents and the way I was raised in that I never really considered that either. I went to a biracial wedding when I was young, and only learned later in life that it was significant. But, my children will never understand that part of life, and I say hooray for that. McCain or Obama supporter... this is one of those "I remember when" moments.

In my own life, other than fighting with AT&T for hours, I had a few moments, too. For one, Mark and I have been called to the Principal's office. OK, not really, but we are meeting with Tabbi's teacher and her school counselor because she is not putting forth any effort and is intentionally screwing up. So, "Failure as Parents, party of two.... please report to the elementary school." I am not getting into a Tabbi post right now, but I will just say this. I never knew how hard it would be to raise someone else's child. To be continued...

Not only are we failing the 9 year old, but we are also staying consistent by failing the 2 year old. We started potty training last Sunday. My little genius went pee pee on the potty several times Sunday and Monday. Then he decided he was done. So, the only stuff happening in the potty is dust collection at this point. I tried bribes, but the more cash I gave him, the less he understood why I was giving it to him. OK, so I didn't really bribe with cash, but the stickers, Hershey kisses and Matchbox cars did nothing. We are taking a week off and then we'll see if I can get him back up on the horse (or on Elmo, as the case may be).

Lastly, my brother was in town this weekend. He is so good with the kids that I would like to hire him as my manny. Of course, I don't work, so the job would pay poorly and have no benefits, so I am guessing he would pass. If not, my HR background would force me to advise him that it is a poor career move.

I did encounter something interesting this weekend that I wanted to blog about though. Mike, be ready... it involves you. I experienced two random acts of generosity this weekend and was pretty moved by both. My Aunt Barb and Uncle Rus sent Tabbi a laptop computer this week. They are very successful and have no children of their own, so their siblings' children and their siblings' children's children really benefit from their generosity. So, the gesture for Tabbi is totally amazing, right? I mean holy cow... I type on a crappy desk top. But, here's the really impressive thing. The computer is from the organization One Laptop per Child (visit www.laptop.org for more info). Their goal is to bring education and empowerment to children all over the globe, so with the purchase of one of their green laptops (environmentally friendly, not just the color) an equally cool and durable laptop is sent to a child in Africa. Wow, right? I applaud that group, my aunt and uncle for knowing about them, and anyone with the funds and desire to support them. So, that was act one. Act two comes from my brother. And, I don't just mean him taking care of Will all weekend, although that was pretty fab! My brother, who blogs at www.christianarchy.lifewithchrist.com (yeah, we're not all that alike) has a lot of charities on his blog. He supports ONE, Bono's org and recently added a child that needs to be adopted. And, I don't mean Angelina Jolie adoption, I mean those "For one dollar a day...." commercial adoptions. I thought that was pretty cool, but then he told me that he has one. First I thought, mazel tov, I'm an aunt. Then I thought, wow... impressive. He's always had impeccable moral character (blah blah blah...we can't all be saints), but its even bigger when you take into account he lives in a tiny crap shack. His term, not mine. He's getting a masters in divinity (again, we're not twins, OK) and works at a homeless mission in Podunk, Kansas (my term, not his). He has no money, or at least, very little... and yet he supports a whole human being somewhere. I used to work, and had money to burn and burned it well (which I kick myself for, now that I have no money period). And yet my brother, the better of us clearly, takes his meager wages and supports a child a world away. Wow. Words are not big enough.

So anyway, I feel like I've forgotten how to blog after so long. I promise, I'll get back to ranting about saggy boobs (both mine and the one I am married to), and complaining about parenthood and all its insanity. Thanks for staying with me during the black out!!!

Sunday, November 2, 2008

Ode to U-verse 2

Hello Folks,

I am writing to let you know that I might not be around for awhile. (Single tear). I have broken off my love affair with Dominic of AT&T's U-verse... or U-Suck, as I like to call it. Our systems (phone, TV and satellite) all died 5 hours after Dommy brought it back up. Poor AT&T then felt the wrath of Lynn, and if you know me, you know that was pretty harsh. They then sent their "best guy" out yesterday who fixed it all. If I would have had time, I would have written out my feelings for him, too. "Dear Gary, How do I love thee... let me count the ways." Well, Gary, our system died again yesterday four hours after you left. I am not lovin' you anymore, Gar! Then the wonderfully responsive people at AT&T (thick layer of sarcasm) scheduled another technician to come out today between 12 and 4, and its 6:34p and we're still waiting. (OK, we aren't waiting. We are at my parents' house for dinner, which is how I am blogging right now). They do not have U-verse therefore we are currently surrounded by TV, Internet and phones. I don't wanna go home to my practically Amish abode. I feel like I am going to have to churn my own butter soon! Thank God AT&T doesn't run our electricity!

So, tomorrow I am calling crap central to let them know that I am no longer interested in having U-verse. Or, really, I am no longer interested in paying for U-verse to not give me phone, Internet and TV. So, until I get my home up and technology filled, this blog will be dead air. Stick with me though! I am working to get it done ASAP so keep checking, because there will surely be a sonnet for DirecTV or Bright House as soon as they install their wares!

Thanks!!! And see you soon (I hope),