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Month: October 2005

Halloween? Again with the costumes?

Halloween? Again with the costumes?

“But I don’t know what to wear.  Why do I have to dress up in something YOU want me to be?”

Every year we have this discussion and every year there is pouting and whining. Frankly, the kids are getting tired of me acting like this over my costume every year, so I decided to take my cue from them. From Gabriella to be exact. I know what I am dressing up like for Halloween.

I am going to be a four year old preschool diva.

I will go through my entire drawer of my favorite pajama bottoms (flinging all of the unacceptables throughout the rest of my room). The chosen ones will of course be the ones that are a size too small with the hind-end more than a little worn out. I will put them on, most likely backwards and slightly twisted. Then, I will look for the shiniest shirt I own. The one that has the most sparkle and shimmer. It is a nearguaratee that this shirt will be a size too large or completely out of season with the weather. From there, I will add my most beloved (translation: tattered and sporting at least a small tear, fray or marker drawing on it)tu-tu.  Because really, is there ever an outfit complete without a tu-tu ? Top add to the entire “I am a diva and I am sure you won’t question it, but just in case you do” ensemble will be my feather boa. Hot pink. It sheds. A lot. Everywhere.

Before leaving to go Trick or Treating, I plan on throwing myself down and insisting on wearing those soooo beatiful high heal plastic shoes that shimmer in the light.  I MUST WEAR those.  Eventually, I will win and grab them out of the depths of my closet. 

I am almost ready.  Just before leaving, I will carefully place my very shiny, very sparkly tiara atop my head and grab my royal magic wand that makes really LOUD noises that are supposed to sound all royal and princess-ish.


I race to the door, slip on my shoes that I just have to wear and will proudly march about 5 feet before complaining that my feet hurt and discarding the ever essential shoes. It will only take about 10 minutes before I lose the boa. It does shed, you know. By the time I am 30 minutes into this, my wand will be gone and I am going to whine that I am tired and that this is just such hard work and why do we have to go so far and I am hungry can’t I eat all my candy now?

So what do you think?  Perfect costume, isn’t it. The best part: it is totally realistic and will cause every mom of a preschool diva daughter to shudder in recognition.

I am SO going to rule this costume thing this year.

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Big Entry of Random Randomness (now exploiting friends of my children!)

Big Entry of Random Randomness (now exploiting friends of my children!)

Sometimes you must resort to random information rather than make quite a few separate snore-worthy entries. Instead, here is one Big Entry of Random Randomness (now exploiting friends of my children!)


I have been told for the past three months how well I have been handling everything with my Mom and my Dad. I have been asked how I am holding it all together. My standard reply is usually Just wait. It is when the calm comes that I lose it. The fun has yet to begin! I am rarely believed because I look so “together”. Last night I spent most of the evening making sarcastic remarks, whining or just being bitchy. When Clint mistakenly asked what was wrong, well, let’s just say I gave him an earful. A few minutes later as I was watching TV, I went to brush my hair of my shoulder when my ring snagged on my necklace and broke it.

Oh for the love of all things emotionally irrational, I lost it. Lost. It. I began to sob uncontrollably muttering how ironic it is that it was my Mom’s ring that broke my necklace and broke me down and is making me cry and ohhh how could life be so unfair as to break my necklace. It just isn’t fair that my necklace broke. Why is this happening? Why did I have to lose my necklace?? What have I done to deserve to suffer through a BROKEN NECKLACE?!

(Does anyone think perhaps I was suffering through a case of transference?  Nah!)


Today I decided to work on the mood a bit. I dressed up in something other than warm-ups and a ratty t-shirt. I put makeup on and curled my hair even. When my loving husband got home he was so kind as to compliment me.

Clint: You look nice today.  Make-up and everything.”

Me:  Today I decided to go by the old standby of “If you look good, you will feel good.”

Clint:  How’s that working for you?

Me*sob sob uncontrollable sobbing*

Clint: So not so well, huh.


With so much work to do, I knew that spending all day entertaining Gabrie was not going to be productive. I did the only rational thing of a stressed out woman: I invited her best friend over. They keep each other entertained so that I can work. In fact, I have been entertained as well. Here are just a few reasons why I absolutely love these girls together.

Gabrie: Why did your horse just kiss my horse?

Friend:  Because that’s what horses do when they get their lovin’ on.

After choking with laughter and snorting my Diet Coke out of my nose, I asked her what she meant. I finally got to the point where what she meant to say was was “when they are in love”, but it was SO MUCH funnier as “get their lovin’ on”!


While driving with the girls on errands, Joe Nichols song “Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off” came on the radio. The next thing I hear is LOUD singing from the backseat.

Friend:  “Maquita makes her clothes fall offffff!”

Gabrie:  “Not maquita!  TEQUILA makes her clothes fall off.  Tequila.  Right, Mommy?”

Me:  “Absolutely, sweetie.”

I am SO not winning mother of the year this year.

And that, my friends, concludes my Big Entry of Random Randomness (now exploiting friends of my children!)

Did I die and go back to hell?

Did I die and go back to hell?

Yesterday I received an email from a friend of mine. She is one of The Cool Moms. She has been involved with the PTA forever, yet she is not PTAnal.  She grew up here, yet she is not really a Stepford.  She is an anomaly. That is what she is, people. But that is not the point. I mean, when I get an email from this Mom Friend, it is usually hysterical, uplifting or an invite for a Mom’s Night Out. Suffice it to say, I love her emails.

So imagine the HORROR of receiving this email from her:


I will have the notebooks in the workroom this afternoon. Please pick them up at your convenience. ~Sydney

What? Excuse me?! Notebooks? Notebooks mean only one thing: You have been recruited by hell the PTA to chair something.Ohhhh , hell to the no, baby. I may be out of it and I may have been traveling so much that it takes me a good 5 minutes after I wake up to figure out what city I am in, but I know…I KNOW I did not sign up to be the chairman of anything PTA related.

I emailed back something intelligent along the lines of:  “What? Huh?  What the hell?  Are you smoking crack??”

Apparently I have been assigned (they claim signed up for) the Party Room Parent for the 4th grade.

Let’s stop for a moment and think about this. Do they really want this? Do they really want me in charge of parties. For 4th graders?  I will do totally take them to the bar.  Or teach them all of the lyrics to “Don’t Cha” or whatever rap song is flinging “The F Word” around like flies off a horse’s ass. I will not resist the impulse to play Pin the Genitalia on the Model. In fact, if you will excuse me, I have to go print out some penises in preparation for the next classroom party.

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Stress ballet

Stress ballet

Every person deals with stress in their own way.  Some people become super organized.  Some people fall apart.  Some do ballet in the halls of the hospital.

I suppose you can say that my family has been under stress lately.  (Again with the understatements?) It was very evident that my sister and I handle stress in very different ways.  She becomes blunt and says what is on her mind.  She doesn’t want bullshit or platitudes.  She wants to just deal with the situation and get things taken care of.

As for me, I laugh.  I find humor in the most bizarre places.  I laugh at times that it is probably inappropriate.  (I get the giggles at funerals too.  So sue me!) You could say I get downright silly.  This is not the best combination when my sister and I are together in such highly stressful timessuch as the past few months.  Thankfully, I had a partner in crime last week.  My aunt.  My Mom’s sister.

I cannot say enough good things about my how much I needed my aunt with me while I was in Houston.  Not only for the times when I needed a mom-ish shoulder to lean on and when I was able to crawl into her bed and cry and laugh and just talk, but for the times I could absolutely become the most immature person ever to walk to halls of a hospital.

Here is an example of how we acted. Completely sober but completely stressed.

After spending a couple of hours with my Mom, we were both emotionally drained.  It is hard to sit at the bedside of someone you love and see them suffering.  But if you let it take over your emotions, you will not be able to function. It is just too much for your heart to take in.  From Mom’s hospital room we left to go see my Dad in his hospital room.  Much to our surprise, when we arrived at Dad’s he was….uhhhh, let’s just say predisposed and not desiring immediate company.  Which led us to our wait in the hallway of the hospital.

Have you been in a hospital hallway recently?  Remember how they have those hand bars along the hallway?  Those handrails that are there to aid patients who need help shuffling their way down the hallway after surgery, illness or childbirth?  Have you ever looked at them closely?  Well, to us we didn’t see handrails for the ailing.  We saw BALLET bars! 

We immediately dropped our purses and began out ballet stretches.  We tried to remember our proper positions.  We stretched and reached and squatted and twirled.  All the while giggling under our breath while tears streamed down our faces.  Every once in a while you would hear one of us begging the other to stop because we were on the verge of wetting ourselves from laughing.

After a few minutes a nurse happened to look up and notice us.  (Honest, we were not loud.  I swear!  We were just silly. Alone.  With no patients to bother except my Dad.) She saw that we both had tears streaming down our face.  Poor thing thought we were crying out of sadness.  With kindness in her voice she placed her hand on my shoulder and asked, “Are you okay?  Is there something I can help you with, dear?”

To which I replied, “Yes. Yes ma’am.  We are having a hard time with something.  So, what is the fifth position in ballet?  Is it similar to a demi-plie?” And then my aunt fell to the ground in laughter.  And I wet my pants.

The nurse stared.  Mouth agape.  Finally she said, “Honey, it will be okay.  Honest.” She patted my arm, shook her head while grinning and walked away.

See, some people stress out and go all blunt.

Some do ballet in the halls of the hospital.

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Talk about stating the obvious!

Talk about stating the obvious!

I went to an alumni site today to update my information.  No, not one of those that charge you to actually get any information on anyone.  This is a free site for Houston area alumni. (Did you hear that, Shanda?  Go register!) So anyway, I finish filling out the form information and get the following error:

Profile Not Updated!

You profile cannot be updated until the following problems have been corrected:

Missing Sex

Well, DUH!  I have been out of town.

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