Quote of the Day

While you are destroying your mind watching the worthless, brain-rotting drivel on TV, we on the Internet are exchanging, freely and openly, the most uninhibited, intimate and, yes, shocking details about our config.sys settings. ~Dave Barry

May 26, 2011

Today

Our community has been hit hard this time by the devastating tornadoes that swept across our state earlier in the week.  Four families from our parish have lost their homes, and one of them, the Hamils, have lost their two little boys.

There are no words to describe the sadness and loss people feel in this situation. Life works in such a way that it's a heartbreaking birthright for children to plan their parents' funerals, but when that situation is reversed, the world reels with injustice.

I am blown away imagining the pain my friends are enduring as they begin the long journey in learning to cope with this loss. When I picked my kids up from school today and saw them standing outside, laughing and playing like always, I felt the pangs of guilt. When my three year old son ran up to me at daycare I grabbed him into my arms and sobbed. I feel humbled and anguished that I get to spend another day with all of my children while my friends are going to be missing their sons, their nephews, their grandsons.

I am going to miss those boys. I am guilty of spending quite a few moments during mass trying to get Cole to smile at me, and waving at Ryan when his mother wasn't looking. I have shared knowing smiles with both parents as they took turns taking their boys out of the chapel because they were being rambunctious.  I have watched sweet little Cathleen try to keep Ryan quiet while their mother was taking care of Cole. I have seen the pride and happiness on Hank's face when he looks at his family.

I spent many a slumber party with the boys' Aunt Jennifer, back in the days when things were simple and our biggest worry was waking up with bed hair and ten friends as witnesses. Driving around today, my heart yearned for those days. I want to see my friend worried about her hair instead of her nephews. I want to see her older sister yelling at us for the hundredth time to be quiet instead of mourning the loss of her little boys. I want to her her mom and dad come unloading the stuff we packed and putting on my parents' front porch from when we "moved out" and sort of lived out of her dad's truck for a couple weeks. I want our biggest problem to be which one of us can score a car big enough to live in again.

These things happen and they change who we are. We become the aftermath of tragedy. For those of us who aren't as close to the situation, we eventually pick up and move on. For the parents and grandparents and sisters and aunts and uncles, I cannot pretend to understand. I don't know the right things to say. But I will say that those boys will never be forgotten. They are known and they are loved, and they are enjoying an eternity in which their biggest worry is having nothing to worry about. They are meeting my baby cousin Jadlyn, and pleading directly to Our Lord for peace and comfort for their families. That is my prayer, as well.

May 19, 2011

A New Deal

I was going to take a break from writing until school is out, because honestly.  But I had to come back to start a new campaign.

I have witnessed atrocities over the last week that are so unbelievable that I can't believe these things are still going on in our country.  Young men and women who are desperately looking for a job are promised hundreds of dollars for a few hours' work every evening.  They are expected to do hard physical labor with little rest and no complaining. 

At the end of their work day, they are put before a committee of bored, wealthy individuals and berated for every mistake they have made.  They are then put on trial for every mistake their fellow employees make, and even blamed for things that have gone wrong in the committee members' personal lives.  The committee then docks their pay, many times until there isn't a single dollar left, for all issues -- real or perceived, and tells them to come back the next day and try again.

The young men and women are the people who work in the service industry in our country, and the committee members are the self-righteous idiots whom they serve. I watched a lady literally scream at a server for bringing too much food to the table.  I see people set dollars at the table and dramatically remove one every time their server doesn't guess exactly what's going on in their tiny little brains.  I seen men complain to managers about their service in order to get a free meal, then brag about it to their friends as the waitress is getting fired in the background.

I've seen tables of twenty people keep a server running back and forth to the bar to bring hundreds of dollars' worth of beer, and then suddenly run out of money at tip time.  I've seen people sit at a table and complain about the rude people at work ruining their day while they simultaneously allow a human being to wait on them hand and foot without so much as a thank you.

When you are out to dinner, don't be an asshole.  If you need something, you wait until all the stuff in your server's hands is set on the table before you expect her to get you anything else.  You ask for everything you need at once, so she doesn't have to run back and forth for you.  If you need a second thing, you freaking apologize for being inconsiderate, and ask nicely for the thing you forgot.  If your food is cooked wrong or you don't like it, remember that the person bringing it to you is rarely the same person responsible for making it taste good.

And if you break any rule of etiquette, you can get out your little food journal and go ahead and note that you probably just ate spaghetti with spit-sauce.  Ask your personal trainer (if you even speak to him) how many lunges you need to do in order to work off the extra floor-dirt that got mixed into your steak seasoning.  Find out what diseases your waitstaff may have and have yourself tested for anything that can be transferred through ice or pickles or licking your spoon after you sent it back because it had a scratch on it.  And know that anything "extra" you may have been served was absolutely deserved. 

Grow up, people. 

And if you see someone abusing their server, stand up and say something. 

May 10, 2011

Not Sure What this is About

I thought yesterday was scary, but today beat it.  I got into a little argument with someone who I do my best not to fight with, and I don't ever want to do that again.  But I probably will.

Comes with the circumstances, I guess.

I also finished all my work for the rest of the year at school, so I get to spend the next four weeks doing the All Important Sitting in a Chair to finish the semester, or else I will get suspended.  It makes sense, really.  They are trying to prepare us for the workplace, and as of yet, I am the only student who hasn't figured out how to waste an entire day on Facebook and hide it from the boss.  This, I hear, is an important corporate skill.

:::sigh:::  almost there....almost there....

The kids are excited for the end of homework and waking up early, which, hell yeah!  I can't wait, either.  It looks like we're going to spend the summer converting Ninja Truck into a water-powered vehicle.  Or can cars go on screams?  Because when the kids are in the car, there is always a surplus of screaming.  Or maybe hair.  Donovan always gets out of the car with a fist full of hair he pulled out of one of the girls' heads.  Anyway, something more inexpensively replenishable, is my point.

My roses are blooming.  The first time I saw my house, there was this beautiful rose bush covering the fence, and it was a large part of my falling in love with the place.  It quit blooming the week we moved in, and I have feared for its life ever since.  I am no green thumb, and can kill plants just by association.  Anyway, it looks like it'll be in full bloom by tomorrow, just in time for tornadoes, so I'll try to snap a pic before the flowers blow away.

And I think that is all for today.  Except this piece of advice: never fight with your mother-in-law on the same day you have to get groceries.  It makes you all stabby.

May 9, 2011

Too Classy for Shoes

It's hot outside, yo.  Like, middle of summer, Fourth of July, forgot to bring water hot.  It requires an entirely different wardrobe that is not at all appropriate for leaving the house.  I think we're going on day three of it.

The good part of that is school is almost out.  Three more weeks for the kids and four for me.  Then we're going to fill up the gas tank and drive till we run out and hope that's somewhere near a lake.  An air conditioned lake.

The kids are convinced we're going to Mexico for the summer.  All I said was, "Mexico would be a fun trip...when it's not all scary and expensive."  Two minutes later they had their bags packed and were sitting in the car waiting for me to leave.  I don't know whose kids they think they are, but not once has our family done anything that would cause these children to believe we are going to just up and go to Mexico.  Ever.

Well, there was that one time I said, "We need to get groceries," and we left about twelve hours later; but that's as crazy as it gets around here.

On a different note, Donovan officially has no shoes.  I am not sure what happened, because he had the most diverse footwear wardrobe of any kid I've ever known.  Somehow, he has managed to ruin or lose every singe pair.  Sunday, he wore the right side to each of his two pairs of black shoes, because all the lefts were missing.  Today, he wore shoes made of mud -- the product of a trip through the pasture last week after it rained and the discovery of a pond.  I told him he can't have more shoes till he gets a job, but he's totally fine with that.  He has hobbit feet, anyway.

Today, I almost got divorced.  It was the scariest morning of my life, and now I know why people have to bring their posse to the courtroom with them.  But it didn't happen, and it turns out court was like sitting in a sauna in professional attire while lawyers discussed how they may be too hungover on July 5 to present their cases.  If I ever DO get divorced, I'm taking my sisters and my mom and my brothers and my dad and all my friends and a bodyguard.

The End.

May 6, 2011

Mothers Day Goodies

Today I was treated to Mothers Day Tea with Dalton, which was totally adorable.

He made a picture of me.
Note the detail of the wood floors and my awesome ripped up jeans.  My son knows me well.

Huston made me a book that was mostly about my chocolate chip cookies.  Each of the boys also made various things that listed things about me.  All three of them included "cool," which, of course...look at those jeans.  Huston's also said "cookies," so I'm not sure that he realizes that there is much more to me than cookies.  Warrick said "hero," which he explained to me was because he didn't have room to write "tomboy". 

I love my kids' takes on who I am.  

After the tea, we had to rush Dalton to the doctor because he had some weird spots on him.  I crossed paths with a woman who had four little girls and our kids got all mixed up on which mom to follow so we each just grabbed the right number of them and called it good. I think I made it home with the same kids, though, including my niece...at least, I haven't had any freaked out phone calls from my sister about dropping off the wrong kid, so pretty sure it's all good.

Then, we went to the pharmacy and drove home in the dreaded rush hour traffic, which caused this:


And I'm off to do the same.

May 5, 2011

Lawn Fairies

I did stuff today that nobody should ever have to do.  For instance, I took the kids to Walmart.  Also?  Other stuff. 

I had to keep reminding myself that public meltdowns are lots of fun, but never for the person doing the melting.

Then, I came home to ALLLLL the grass being cut.  I haven't had a minute to spend working on the lawn since it started growing again.  The most I do outside is make sure the front porch is swept, and even that is sporadic.  I had sort of given up, thinking that school is three weeks away from being out; and I would have all the time in the world to beautify my surroundings after that.

Coming home to such a huge task being done made up for pretty much everything I've been through over the last couple months.  Also, there was a note on the door that said "Happy Mothers' Day."  Assuming it was my neighbors/landlords, this isn't even the nicest thing they have done for me, and I am reminded of what a huge blessing this house and the people who live near it have been for me and the kids.

I think I am done with being angry and depressed.  At least for now.  It's the little things that make all the difference.  As much as I try to live by that, I really needed a reminder in my life right now.

May 4, 2011

Trying to Quit, as My Dad Would Say

*ahem* :::smooths hair, adjusts clothing:::

I am sorry for the rant last night.  I think I am better now.

In sharp contrast to the children's school, MY classes are going beautifully.  They are going so well, in fact, that I am actually getting myself in trouble.  However, I have learned once again that I am a grammar snob; and I could take English classes forever and be truly happy.  Too bad there aren't many jobs requiring "someone to correct my text messages, status updates, and tweets."

This week we are working on a biography (for fourth grade, that is) and a covered wagon.  It should be quite interesting.  The covered wagon requires my meeting at least five other parents from the third grade.  People I have spent all year not meeting, and now we need to find at least one free evening in common so that we can come together and create a covered wagon.

This project will take about three weeks' preparation, and provide a total of one hour of fun for the kiddos.  Unless it is anything like the land run we did when I was a kid.  In that case, it's one hour of sitting inside a circle formed with rope, getting eaten by bugs, and hanging out with four random kids I hadn't bothered to like all year long.  (Not getting to know people is a long-standing habit of mine, it seems.)

Anyway, it's a great bonding experience or something, I'm sure.  So yay that!

I'm not being sarcastic. 

No I'm not. 

Nuh-uh. 

Shut up.

I do like my kids and I even like their teachers.  I just don't like anyone who puts things on my calendar unless they are me.  And since I much prefer a calendar with all blank squares, I'm pretty sure I don't like the people filling in all that beautiful blankness with STUFF.

Ok, I said I was done and apparently am not.  Just wait, Interwebz....when May is over, I'll be so full of happy giddiness that you'll think I started working at Starbucks.

May 3, 2011

Ready for Summer

I got to go through over 300 papers that came home in the kids' backpacks last night.  After sorting through them, I found only five that I really needed to see. 

Contained in those five pieces of paper were what amounted to the schedule for every second of my time for the rest of the month.

Dear School,

I have tried all year to hold my tongue, but I hate you.

I hate your 300 papers.

I hate your stupid homework.

I hate your weekly letters telling me how to parent.

I hate your monthly menu with a grocery list of healthy food for me to buy at home.

I hate your month of May, into which you have crammed every extra activity for every child for the entire school year.

I hate your recorded messages that urge me to send more dollars to the school for the kids to buy stinky pencils to benefit the PTA.

Oh, I hate your PTA.

I hate your presidential addresses.

I HATE YOUR STINKING GUTS, School. 

I am not one of those parents who just wants to drop their kids off somewhere every day for free.  I would like to see my kids and know which friend taught them the latest butt joke so I can make them quit talking to that disgusting kid.  I want to see what they look like when they wake up in the morning because they want to instead of because they're going to get yelled at.

I want to take a Monday folder and use it to start a bonfire in the backyard.  I want to have one free evening without thinking about you at all.

You can consider this summer to be a very bad break up between the two of us.  I will burn all your pictures and letters, I will ignore your phone calls and emails, I will lose contact with everyone I've met through you, and I will only think of you to remember how bad it used to be, and even that will be seldom.

Oh sure, I'll be back.  It's the cycle of an abusive relationship, after all.  But I know who you are and I know you won't change.  You'll eat away at my freedom until I can't take it anymore, and I'll leave again.  And then, School, that will be the last time. 

Finally, School, I want all my stuff back.  You can leave it at the front door, please.  I need my 160 evenings back that I wasted on goofball homework and projects.  I need my dining room table back, which has been covered with your propaganda for eight months.  I need all the peace I nurtured into my kids over the summer, only to have thrown out the window with your high-stress teaching styles. 

I need six sweet innocent faces smiling at breakfast, because they have been ruined with bullying and pressure and spoiled rotten other-peoples'-kids and work work work.  Please pack this up nicely and I will pick it up on the last day of class.

At last, School, Goodbye.

Very Sincerely,
MannyRee

May 2, 2011

Bad (Hair) Day

Today, I discovered that the more I tried to fix my hair, the more this one piece wanted to jut out directly to the side.  Every time I tried to straighten it, it got worse.  Every product I used enhanced its stupidity.

Then, I discovered my hair was laughing at me because it's just like my life.

Boo that, yo.