Wednesday, March 25, 2009

Under Construction

My blog will be under construction until further notice. Until then.....I'll stop by and say hi!

Mimi's New Experience

Jared and Mimi brought me lunch at work today and ate with me. She talked everyone's ears off and I decided to take her out the back to meet some clients. Disabled people aren't totally new to her but this breed was.

I took her to a table to meet one of my favorite people. This was "Marty" whom I referred to in an earlier post. He has Down's Syndrome and the three other people at his table had DS, too. Mimi had her teddy bear, Brady, that goes everywhere with her so I had her show them Brady. I told Mimi that Marty wants to be a policeman and that's why he was wearing a police hat and shirt. Then he showed us his badge which was clipped on his belt. "Look!" he said excitedly.

As we left the work area Mimi said, "Are all those guys brothers?" I said no. "They look like they're brothers."

I explained with their disability they have some of the same traits, like their eyes. She said, "I like their voices because they sound like little kids. Does their disease make them nice, because they were all nice? What else does their disease do?" So I explained sometimes they think a little slower and even though they're grown ups they think like kids. When I saw her this afternoon she was still talking about how cute their voices were and how nice they were.

Okay, I know disease probably wasn't the right word, but I was explaining this to an eight year old. I was glad she got to meet some of my favorite people and they could meet her and Brady.

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Twisted Tale Tuesday

The Fly on the Wall

Wuntsa ponna time there was an insecure little prince named Curt. Actually, people weren't really sure if he was insecure or narcissistic, because sometimes he would come across that way. When others felt weak he would poke fun, only to cover up the fact that he was weaker. If his girlfriends didn't win beauty contests, he would call them losers, even though he would never even win the title of Mr. Puny-verse. When he was blamed for trouble - he would blame others and assign a whipping boy because he didn't want the others see him cry.

Curt walked out into the royal garden and to a royal pond. He looked into the pond and saw his reflection. "Handsome or not?" he asked. Just then a toad poked his ugly head out of the spot where Curt's face should have been. "NOT!" said the cheeky toad.

"How dare you speak to the royal prince that way! I shall teach you a lesson!" said the angry prince. He picked up a stone and aimed it towards the toad.

"Please don't hurt me," said the toad. "I am a magic toad and I will grant you one wish if you shall spare me."

The prince thought this over carefully, because he didn't want to wish for something silly. The little vain (or insecure) prince finally announced, "I want to know what everyone thinks about me!"

"Is that your final answer? Would you like to phone a friend?" asked the toad.

"No! I just want to ask the audience. I want to know what they think of me: if I'm handsome or smart or kind or worthy of a million riches."

"Your wish is granted," croaked the toad. Poof! The prince turned into a fly. He buzzed around and then realized the toad had tricked him and he was about to become toad kill.

"You tricked me - I spared your life and you tricked me!" buzzed the angry prince-sect.

"No, dear Prince. You have the ability to spy on anyone you would like without being noticed. Fly off now and get your answers." With that the toad dove back into the pond.

Curt decided to fly to the village. He entered a very fair maiden's house and hid on the bookshelf. He saw on the TV that the emergency broadcasting system had an alert for the missing prince. "Oh that silly prince!" said the fair maiden, "His humor is such he is probably right under our noses. He's probably outsmarted us all."

"She thinks I'm funny and smart," thought the prince-sect. He flew on to another fair maiden's house, a recent love interest.

Her name was Petunia. "The prince has probably ran away with some bimbo and he's so self-centered he would hate for anyone to find out - so he's in hiding." The strange thing was she was shouting this at the TV. The prince-sect was not pleased. "She thinks I'm stupid," he thought. The fact that she always called him an idiot probably didn't phase him.

"They can have each other, for all I care!" she shouted angrily, for she was hoping to be the one. But she wanted to have other lovers, too.

Finally, he flew to a quondam lover's house and landed on the litter box. He started to feel hungry, for some strange reason.

"Did you hear the prince was missing?" she said to her BFF. "He probably lost his identity and will look for it for the rest of his life. Like Amnesia - unless someone recognizes him and brings him back."

This made Curt unhappy. He buzzed in front of her face as she swatted and he flew into the other room for safety. She came after him with her shoe. "I'll teach you, you bugger." Now, I don't mean that in the naughty way for my overseas readers who consider that word a swear word. I mean it in the way that he was a bug and was bugging her.

He regretted knowing the truth now. He wished he never knew and flew quickly to find the toad, stopping by a pile of manure on the way. He really couldn't help it. The frog was waiting on a lily pad for the fly to return.

"Toad! I've got to change back! Please!" he shouted, desperately.

"Sorry Prince. One wish was the deal," he said. "What will you give me if I change you back?"

"I will let you kiss every fair maiden before me and let you chose who I marry," buzzed the prince.

"Deal!" and the prince was changed back to himself. Insecure or narcissistic? The toad picked a fine beauty for him, which was Petunia. Why Petunia? She was just what he needed to be motivated in his career, which he was highly successful and that's why he never came home. He made a lot of money and lived .....and lived until he died. The End.

Monday, March 23, 2009

Monday Mourning

I'm kinda sad today. The kids had a day off of school and my daughter, Ali, went on an official date for lunch. Why does that make me sad? It's just another reminder that she is growing up. This is my sweet little buddy who used to help me make my bed before she started kindergarten. She would run up the stairs and I would chase her pinching her bum saying "birdies gonna get your bum" or I would smack her little bottom. Then one day I was in front and I felt this tiny little hand smack my bum.

This is my little one who I nicknamed "Oodle Ali" taken from Disney's Robin Hood when the fox always said, "Ooh Dah Lolly!" We shortened it to "Oodle" and sometimes she will still answer to it. I also called her "Goofy Lou" and "Giggle Nugget" when she was being silly.

Now she's driving and going on dates. How did this happen? If all my kids were like her I could have had six. Genetics say otherwise.

Thursday, March 19, 2009

When Moms Attack

My friend over at The Rocking Pony inspired me to share a "mean mom" story. Sometimes us moms get a thrill out of keeping our kids on their toes. My daughter and her friends (age 14 at the time) would always hold their breath when we would pass a cemetary which is on our way home from most places. Sometimes I would slow down the car to a crawl so they would have to hold their breath longer.

One night as she and her friend were holding their breath I thought I would actually pull into the cemetary. They were scared to death. I had never pulled into the cemetary before and realized the road came to a stop. I said, "Look! It's a dead end!" They found no humor in that. I put the car into reverse and backed into a small parking lot. My headlights shined on the headstones straight ahead. I put the car into drive and as I went forward I let out a blood curdling scream. The girls screamed their heads off and one actually started to cry and I'm sure you're not surprised that I laughed hysterically.

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Twisted Tale Tuesday


Once again my disclaimer - names and incidents are fictitious and in no way reflect true life. Any parallel to your own life is purely coincidental. You are thinking way too much about it.

Wuntsa ponna time there was a girl named Goldilocks. Goldilocks was actually her nickname, but the folks have been calling her that for so long they forgot what her actual name was. She didn't mind because during roll call at school, there was never anyone with the same name. She really hated it at Christmas time, though, because she could never find a mug or ornament with her name on it.

Goldilocks went for a walk one day and came upon a little log cabin. She knocked on the door and no one answered. She was very hungry and thirsty so she thought she could just go in and steal a little food and water without getting caught. All the other kids in the neighborhood were stealing so this was not out of the ordinary.

She noticed three chairs. A little chair, a medium chair and a tacky LazyBoy recliner. She sat in the LazyBoy and said, "This chair is too big." She moved on to the next chair and once again placed her tired little buns on it. "This chair is too......medium-ish." Then she sat in the little chair and said, "This chair is just right." She tilted back in it like she had been told a million times not to do. The back legs slipped right out from under her and she fell on the floor and bonked her head. She noticed the chair had broken and on the bottom of the seat it was quite noticeable why. There in large print said, "Made in China." Then she worried about lead poisoning.

This gave her a voracious appetite. She noticed three bowls of porridge, which for my American readers is actually the very same thing as cooked oatmeal. There is no difference except one starts with a "P" and the other with an "O". She tried the big bowl first and found it was too hot. She tried the next one in the medium bowl which was also too hot. Then she tried the small one and it was just right. She ate it all up and felt very tired but lowered her cholesterol by 15 points.

She found a bedroom with two beds in it. Two beds you ask? Why aren't there three? How many people procreate sleeping in separate beds?! This isn't the time or place for me to explain the birds and the bees, so I will just carry on with my tale. She didn't waste her time crawling into the big bed so she jumped right into the little bed. She quickly dozed off to sleep.

Suddenly, she was awakened by a sound. "Some one's been sitting in my chair" and "someone ate my porridge". BUSTED!!! She would not only get prosecuted for stealing but vandalism, too.

Then she saw a family of bears standing in the doorway. "Some one's sleeping in my bed!" cried the baby bear.

"Oh my H, a talking bear!" shouted Goldilocks as she jumped out of the window and ran all the way home. Once again, a silly little blonde. What are bears doing living in cabins with furniture and eating oatmeal?

Saturday, March 14, 2009

Johnny is a Sociopath

When I was younger, not that long ago, I used to think you had to befriend everyone. I thought if you weren't friends with everyone, that made you judgemental. I don't think it was until I went to London and met some very strange characters that my eyes were opened.

I was very sad when I asked Ali (16) about one of her friends I'll call "Sue". She announced that they weren't friends anymore. "WHAT?" I love this girl! Ali then tells me, "She's making some bad decisions and I don't agree with her, so we're not friends anymore."

I'm seriously broken-hearted. This is the funnest, bubbliest, craziest girl ever. "What is she doing?"

"She's guaging her ears, drinking and making out with a new boy every weekend. I don't want people to think I'm like that," she said, confidently.

So here comes the judgement thought: "Sue needs a good friend like Ali now more than ever." Here comes the realistic thought: "A girl's gotta protect her reputation, and Sue knows better."

We had a family night and discussed an article in "The Friend", a children's magazine. I was reading it when all of those thoughts came to me. The story was about a boy who made friends with another boy who no one would play with in which I add as if part of the story (plus I was testing to see if anyone was listening) "because Johnny was a weirdo who grew up to be a pedophile." They were listening! My teens laughed. It went directly over my 8 year old's head.

"Does it say that?" Seth asks.

Of course, I'm cracking myself up hysterically. So sad, but I do laugh at my own jokes. But here's the point: You don't have to be friends with everyone. We have a little feeling inside that gives us alarms for certain people and there's a reason for that. You can be polite to everyone, but Johnny could be a sociopath, so don't go to the movies with him!

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

Twisted Tale Tuesday

I thought since other people have their days (that I love BTW) I would come up with one. Then when I have Blogger's Block, I can say anything in sarcasm and I'll feel better. If these stories have anything perpendicular to your life or you share the same name it is strictly by coincidence and not intended to display events realistically.


Wuntsa ponna time, there was a beautiful socialite named Rapunzel. She had blue eyes that reflected the stars and long golden hair that swept her waist. She could catch any man's attention....and she did. One demented creep anyway.

He was in love with her in his own mind. His name is Oscar. He didn't really know her, but he thought he loved her. Rapunzel was very wise and didn't give him the time of day because she knew if she did, he would lose interest.

Since she showed no interest, the only way he thought he could have her for himself is if he kidnapped her and put her in a tower. She still played hard to get and she really couldn't get over his name. "How would I ever be able to introduce him to people without feeling awkward?" she asked herself.

The townsfolk caught wind of her entrapment and one brave soul decided he would rescue her. He was not a prince, just a very strong and good-looking guy from town, named Mike. He went to the tower and called to Rapunzel. She stood at the window. "How will I ever get free?"

"We need a rope or something," he said.

"Well, my hair has grown a ton since I've been using Fructis hair fortifying shampoo and conditioner. Like the commercial, it's as strong as a rope," she said as she lowered her hair, "and that's just my armpits." She then lowered the braid from the crown of her head.

Mike climbed and climbed just like in PE when he climbed the rope. When he arrived at the top and saw Rapunzel without makeup he was astonished. He was still trying to get over her name being so weird and all. So he went to the tower door and pulled it open. Tired from all the climbing he asked, "Why didn't you just open the door?"

"I tried desperately to push it open with no avail!" she exclaimed.

"It says here 'PULL', not push!" he scorned. Rapunzel wept. Sometimes it's just hard being a blonde.

There was no wedding, no happily ever after, no prince or princess or open relationship. Just the end. Except Rapunzel hired a lawyer and now all doors in the town have automatic doors. And the author is happy to announce that spell checker has approved everything except "Wuntsa ponna." The end.

Friday, March 6, 2009

As you know, I had surgery on my right hand six weeks ago. I thought my penmanship was improving but still get teased about it at work occasionally. I had to fill out a permisson slip for Mimi to watch a video in class about animals hunting other animals. No, this was not the maturation class! Mimi's teacher called her up to her desk and said, "Mimi, this does not look like a grown up's handwriting."

After I quit laughing I asked, "What did you say?"

Mimi says as a matter-of-factly, "I said 'my mom's got a bad hand and she had surgery on it so she had to write with her left hand.'"

"What did your teacher say?" I asked.

"She said, 'Um, okay.'"

What 8 year old could come up with a story like that off the cuff? Her teacher should know Mimi's handwriting is better than my own forgery.

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

How To Out Party Your Teenager

1. Start out with a slumber party that you can crash. Preferably a friend's daughter. Arrive at the party with your daughter. She will be slightly embarrassed - the party has started.

2. Suggest a trip to Wal-mart. This could be tricky so I recommend splitting up from the girls, otherwise it will be a competition to see who can embarrass the others more. We moms do have a reputation in public of being mature. And we don't want to get kicked out of the store.

3. Let them load up on sugary treats and energy drinks. You can sneak some from them when they're not looking.

4. While they are talking about friends and boys (or texting other people - I don't get it) you go on the computer and look up hilarious blogs like this one. That will remind you of your own funny story and another and another. By this time one of the girls should fall asleep - which would be my daughter. Where did I go wrong? Now you are embarrassed of the lack of partying skills that obviously skipped a gene.

5. Laugh until you are delirious and then invite a fun friend over. By this time you have three people who are catalysts to each other from one demented thought to another. Time to steal treats.

6. Tell the girls you are going to leave. Then continue absurd conversation that eventually leads to talking about the bathroom and aging. This will cause the girls to retire because they are mortified.

7. At this point you will be in pain from laughing too much. Your cheeks will look slimmer and your abs should feel a slight burn. Try to leave by 3 AM because you know how cranky moms can be when they don't get enough sleep.

Sunday, March 1, 2009

When Good Goes Bad

I've been contemplating whether I should write this post for a couple of reasons. One: I have no reason to complain. Two: It may seem arrogant. Three: Both topics are top secret. Please take it for what it is....embarrassing.

First: I've lost a significant amount of weight. I won't tell what my weight was or what I am now, but I went from a tight 14 to a loose 8. When people haven't seen me for awhile they are shocked. I didn't carry that amount of weight for long but long enough to do something about it. People ask me what my secret is. This is the bad part. I cringe when people ask me. I don't know how to answer that question. There was no secret. There's no pill. I'm not exercising my butt off. There's no diet plan. I'm not anorexic.

Why this is good gone bad? It's embarrassing to me because I don't have a great answer. I don't know if what I'm doing is healthy or not. I started off walking and weight training with Kevorki-Annie. Then I started work full-time and couldn't weight train with K.A. anymore because her night schedule was booked. I continued walking and when I took breaks at work I walked. Then I somehow lost my appetite. I know this is every woman's dream and it was mine. I started feeling nauseated and really had to force myself to eat. Since I wasn't hungry, I made wise choices. Then I came up with a philosophy: I'm not active at night and therefore I don't need the caloric intake. I eat my "large" meal at lunchtime and only have a snack or small meal at dinner. I haven't deprived myself of anything - treats, chocolate, etc.

It's a complicated answer and I hate explaining. It's a little embarrassing when people are shocked and make a fuss, but I'm happy to be 7 lbs under my goal weight and would like to lose another 7 and stop. I also am embarrassed because I got to the weight I did and you will never see before shots! Do I think others should be embarrassed of their weight? Absolutely not. But I feel I was very unhealthy and could see myself heading for onset Type 2 diabetes, heart disease or something else. My sweet husband says he liked me with more of a booty.

When good is bad again: (Co-workers, say nothing.) There is a sweet lady that works at my work who is going through a very rough time. She is so wonderful to the clients in spite of her personal life in shatters. I know she struggles financially in this bad time and I felt impressed to anonymously give her money. I put $20 in an envelope and put her name on it.

I am blessed and my income is extra - I only work for the health benefits. My husband is self-employed - need I explain about benefits. We're not rich but we live within our means, our needs and wants are taken care of and we don't have any debts except the mortgage. This sweet lady comes into our office and asked if we knew anything about the envelope given to her. The secretaries said no and asked why. She said, "Someone gave me a very generous gift and I wanted to thank them." Then her eyes filled with tears and she said if we find out tell them thank you for her.

Why this is bad? I should have given more. $20 is nothing and I should have dug deeper. Even though she was grateful - I feel bad that I didn't give more. The purpose of sharing this story is you may have the opportunity for service, so don't forget to dig deep.

Okay, so another freakin' serious post. I think I need to ban myself from blogging under the influence of melancholy. I'm still trying to channel my "Carol Burnett" and put away this "Socrates" (or is it actually Confusius - "He who stand on toilet is high on pot.")