Send Me a Gooroo Please

I'M sorry Ive been so MIB (again). Its been so hard just keeping up with everything. Every time I turn around a new crisis seems to be tapping me on the shoulder and sneezing in my direction. I hate to complain ( no really OK maybe I do) but who knew this whole working mommy thing would be this hard. So far this school year we've had:

broken bones,
pneumonia,
several herniated disks,
school placement problems,
a pinched nerve,
and the most fun of all LICE!

And just the normal things like trying to balance a full time job and running back and forth between two schools is just doing me in. The idea of cooking dinner and doing homework after working a full day,running back and forth between two school across town from each other in 25 minutes while pushing a stroller with a toddler complaining she cant breath and she wants to walk is as appetizing as a plate of cooked meal worms in a light broth. (phew)

Every time I feel like I may have it under control I learn I really don't. It enough to make me sit around and waste my time dreaming of an early retirement or running away and joining some weird cult just so I can have new things to worry about.

Anyway I'm still here just insane and bitter and overworked and ready to cry at the drop of a hat.

Anyone met any good cult leaders if so send him my way I got my bags packed and I have a valid passport ready.

Kindergarten Upadate

This was B on the first half day of kindergarten.


This was B the night of his 5th Birthday and the first full day of Kindergarten

This is B today

Yes B has fractured his arm falling from the monkey bars at school. He has fractured his growth plate and will be in a cast for the next six weeks. He has discovered that his cast is good for hitting his sister on the head with and is currently using as a new sort of weapon. Even though he is in a cast he is loving school and the attention he is receiving for his battle wound.

Keeping you in the know

Suzie

P.S> I am so sorry I haven't gotten to reading anyone's posts for awhile. As you can see things have gone from nuts to nuts and I promise to get to you all just as soon as I can.

Updates

Sorry I have been MIA. Things have been crazy and its hard to keep up with everything so I have assembled this update to keep you in the Suzie loop, refresh your Suzie knowledge and keep you abreast (please excuse the pun) of the latest Suzie gossip:

• First is first THE BOOBIES ARE FINE! It took forever to find out. Apparently the added stress of not knowing is good for 40 year gals health and looks. So they keep you guessing as long as they possibly can and grudgingly give you a phone call ages later to tell you you are A OK at least until next year when you go through the hell all over again.I love the 40's.
  

By the way thank you all by the way for your thoughts and prayers you guys rock.

• Next Suzie fact I failed the driving test. Yes I sure did. In fact I did it in a wonderful and unique way I hit a parked car. Yup I posses a skill which is stunning and wonderful. My driving instructor who has never cracked a smile in the 20 hours we spent driving together laughed and laughed the whole two hours back to the city. I am very proud.

• Lastly my little B went to Kindergarten for the first time today. He smiled and waved me good bye without a second glance and now I am binge eating and having a minor anxiety attack as I think of my little boy going on his way in life. The schools super made me really worked up by saying I remember holding my little boys hand on the way to kindergarten and now I am waving him off as he joins the marines. I don't want my 4 year old to join the marines he cant even tie his shoes yet for goodness sake!

So that's it that's the the scoop, the big show, the facts of my life to date. Call TMZ Suzie's in the house!

Still Waiting

I had to take a boob sonogram. I'm still waiting for the results. Can someone please play the Jeopardy theme song please.

A Tumor or Not A Tumor That Is The Question

So so far 40 just sucks. Sucks bad.

Not to spill it all out all over the place. But as soon as I turned 40 my doc sent me for a mammogram.

My Aunt died of breast cancer and it was a terrible experience. Of course I was scared to death of a mammogram. I went in to the imagining center and dressed in one of those spa robes not fooling myself I would end up with sparkly toe nails at the end of it. I told the lady who would be squishing my breast and dragging it across the room about my Aunt and asked her if she could show the film to the doctor right away. She said he was out but she was nice and made me feel really comfortable as she compressed my boob till it looked like a pancake.

I got dressed while freaking out when she came and told me the radiologist was there he would look at the film and I should wait. I did sweating and praying and working myself up into a tizzy. An hour later she came back and brought me back into the room. Apparently something was off she needed to do more squishing. I went numb but not so numb that I didn't feel the next round of squishing and pulling and pulling. When she was done she said she'd go show the doc. I waited and thought about chemo and dying and putting my family through what my aunt went through. It was terrifying. 20 min later she returned. Its fine your in good health well see you again in a year.

I was so happy I walked home on air with a spring in my step I had escaped death.

The next day my doctor called. Don't freak out he said but we found a tumor in your breast. It's probably benign

What?!!

I explained that it was clear the radiologist had told me so.

Well not according to this report he explained. He said You have a tumor and we should do a sonogram.

Please call the radiologist. I begged and find out what happened between its OK and and its a tumor please

The doctor was astounded I don't know why your freaking out about this. He went on Its Friday we wont hear from him until Monday at the earliest.

So I've spent the weekend pretty damn confused. I am fine but I have a tumor. I'm healthy and can go but I'm not.

This is too much for my 40 year old brain. I seem to be confusing the doctor. He doesn't understand why a tumor may upset me. No one is calling me back and I am freaking out.

I hate 40! Hate it hate it hate it!

The Truth About Ryan Seacrest and Dick Clark

Since I have reached the age of 40 I have been hiding under a rock trying to make it go away. Although hiding under the rock didn't make 40 go away I did have the opportunity to hear some good under the rock gossip (or make some up). This gossip involves someone who is ((gasp)) older than me Mr. Dick Clark.

I heard that Dick (although he is at least 102) suddenly started to age. He had been holding off aging for the last 50 years by drinking the blood of small children and animals. But when that no longer worked he invested his fortune in finding a cure to aging. His team of evil doctors came up with a plan. All he needed was a young good looking down and out guy. He found Ryan Seacrest.

Ryan was living under a bridge and was desperate for cash. Dick gave him an out. He could have Dicks amazing fortune if he agreed to give Dick his body and he took Dick's. He told Ryan that as long as he kept up a good blood supply he could live for a long, long time. He would even have a young wife a mansion, a tremendous fortune and a swimming pool. Ryan said OK. The switch was made and Ryan is now in actuality Dick Clark.

Dick (in Ryan's body)went on to a mass his own fortune and now lives once again in the lap of luxury and has at least another 100 years to go in his body before its time for another change.

Hey I'm 40 I'm allowed to be crazy if I want.

Maybe that should be my tag line.

(By the way not that I didn't love your suggestions but I'm leaving the tag line contest open for another week or so. Hey I'm 40 I can do whatever I want!)

Here It Comes

So I am turning 40 on Sunday. I must say I thought it would be a lot more graceful than this. I feel like I am heading into the future whining and crying and being pulled along by my feet by father time. When I imagined this day I imagined myself shoulder straight head up walking proudly into 40. But keep in mind I also imagined flying cars and weekend vacation to the moon (sort of a non cartoon Jetsons). But here I am 39.99999 and moving on. I am depressed sore and generally filled with anxiety.

I keep doing a mental recap of life so far and I think Hey Suzie buck up things are pretty good you've accomplished a lot. I wont go into my list of accomplishments as my mother would say its a kenahurah and will call the fates down to destroy any happiness I may have. But I think I have a pretty good list. But I still feel terrible as the big 40 descends.

I think I may be having a mid life crisis. And perhaps I should just embrace it. I mean I've already gotten the tattoo maybe I should get a bright red sports car and some arm candy Perhaps I should run away and join the circus or start a religious cult. But I think I may be too tired for all of that.

So instead I will go to bed at 9pm all this week wake up and drink decaf and try not too eat too many birthday cupcakes my son will make with love and probably some snot. Ain't aging grand.

Tag Line Giveaway Contest

OK I know I sound like a broken record but my 40th birthday will be coming up soon. I have wonderful things to look forward to like checking boxes on forms that say 40-49 mammograms and high cholesterol. It has also occurred to me that my tag line:

30 something Mom of two, has a Doctorate in education and runs a school. Used to be fun and wild and now just needs a nap.

will no longer be accurate.

I could pretend and be 30 something forever but as I will be embracing my middle age-dom I have decided to change it.

I once saw someone else (thanks Vered) do a tag line contest and since I no longer have an original bone in my body and will never be able to think of a fitting tag line I will be doing a giveaway/ contest. Yes between now and August 6th you my bloggy friend will have the opportunity to help me update my blog with a fitting tag line for your rapidly aging friend. The winner will receive two baby Einstein DVD's. You can either play it for your kids or wait until you get to be my age when you once again find watching brightly colored balls roll and toy monkeys playing a tin drum to classical music endlessly fascinating.

So go on give me some ideas. Don't be shy. Unless you are not form the USA in which case you can submit ideas but there is no way I will get it together to get you the DVD's so all you will get is my undying love and gratitude. The winner will be announced August 6th by *Ryan Seacrest who will be mixing cocktails for me all day long and giving free pedicures.

*I don't actually know Ryan Seacrest and he wont be stopping by but a gal can dream cant she?

Please Dont Tell My Mom

I wasn't sure if I was going to blog about this as many family members read my blog. But I have decided that as I approach 40 I'm a grown woman and I can make big grown up decisions without having to explain myself . So here goes I got a tattoo. (Please don't tell my mom please. I know Ill be in some bigggg trouble!)

But I did. I got a tattoo its kind of big but I love it. Its on my hip over some very flattering stretch marks. Its a sea horse. I got a sea horse because the female squirts her eggs into the males pouch and then she goes off gallivanting on her own. The male then clings to a weed and swells up and is forced to sit and waits for the babies to emerge. Now I know this has nothing to do with my life as its been years since any form of gallivanting has not occurred f but its a reminder to myself to maybe start doing a little galli every now and then and save some vanting for later.

I went to Daredevil Tattoo. When I got there it was filled with 18 year old boys covered from head to toe in tattoos. Rap music was playing at top volume. I thought run run now why you can. But I didn't I sat there the old lady in her career pants suit silently hoping a meteor would strike the shop before my appointment.

Finally the owner a nice more my age lady appeared and she took me into a back room. She played some blue grass (apparently this is where the old folk hang out) and helped me settle in for the tattoo which I will name Pain Fest 2009. Pain Fest 2009 consisted of me trying not to bite a hole through my purse while a needle poked repeatedly into my skin for an hour and a half. I tried to be cool but its hard with your shirt tucked into your bra strap as you sit in the equivalent of a human sewing machine. She was however very nice and getting this tattoo proves I'm not really old I'm just enhanced age wise.

So here it is my sea horse!

Just a reminder please do not tell my mom!

I HAte Jose'

I take back everything I said about liking to drive. That wonderful driving teacher is now but a memory I have instead been stuck with Jose'. Jose' speaks in a calm voice. He wears dark sunglasses Jose' however is evil. As soon as I get behind the wheel it begins:

Susan you must anticipate traffic
Susan you must use your rear view mirrors.
Susan you are not signalling
Susan do not use the gas when you turn
Susan watch out for that man on the bike
Susan do not hit that woman with a baby carriage
Susan watch out for that pole.
Susan do not back into that tree.

Although he does not yell at me the calm quiet anxiety that Jose' radiate has created a boiling pot of hate and nervousness in my stomach. I find myself unexpectedly hitting the breaks and unable to hold onto the steering wheel do to all the sweat. I have even found myself experiencing road rage while in park.

Jose not only makes me nervous he makes me mad. Its only a matter of time before that pot overflows and I tell Jose' where to stick it. Before I tell Jose' that he is making me a nervous wreck. Before I tell Jose' that no matter how calm he sounds I have seen him tear a hole in dash board with his finger nails as he barks out commands. Before I start to scream DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO JOSE'! I WILL HIT THAT WOMAN WALKING BEHIND MY CAR IF I WANT TO! I HATE YOU JOSE'! AND MY NAME'S NOT SUSAN!

Im the Queen!

As many of you know I have started driving lessons. Some of my big fear were will I hit anyone? Will anyone hit me? Will I throw up on the instructor? Fortunately I did not do any of these things. The instructor was really nice. He got in the car with me (brave man) and drove me to a not so busy area but as this is Manhattan that phrase is relative.

He had me get behind the wheel turn the key and suddenly I was covered in sweat. Not just a little sweat but flop sweat. The kind of sweat that soaks you from head to toe. My hand kept slipping off the wheel and I had to keep wiping the torrential downpour out of my eyes to see. My poor instructor pretended not to notice as he had me drive around and around the block stepping on his break every few minutes when I missed stop signs and red lights through the downpour of my own fear.

It was sexy let me tell you.

On Saturday it was time for my next lesson. It was new instructor as I guess the old one was ummm. lets call it sick? This instructor was fearless. He greeted me with a smile and said:

Here you go This isn't my car so hit something if you want to I don't care.

Something me sprung to life. Before I knew it I was cruising down the street at 30 miles and hour. I was doing 3 point turns. I was singing along to the radio and cutting off taxis. I was amazing. I was a driving queen.

There was a moment when I almost hit a woman but she totally deserved it as she walked in the back of my car when I was in reverse doing my three point turn.

So watch out you pedestrians, bike messengers and taxis Suzie the Queen of Cars is behind the wheel!

Today I Drive

Today I am taking my first driving class. I'm not feeling very confident about it. In fact I woke up several times in a hot sweat thinking about crashing into things.

What really made me nervous was when I was in Philly last week (my excuse for going MIB all last week) I had an experience at Chuckie Cheese that really shook my confidence. For all you foreigners out there Chuckie Cheese is a place for kids that has lots of games and rides for kids and uses a big rat for its mascot (it is as horrible as it sounds). Anyway I was at C.C. eating pizza and pretending my fruit punch in a plastic cup with a rat on it was really a dry gin martini in a clean martini glass when my son approached.

Lets play a driving game mommy Ill teach you to dive.

Apparently my son is a consummate driver who will teach me the ropes if I panic.

What could it hurt I thought. I gripped that wheel put in my coins and took my shiny yellow car driven by my avatar a big busted, blond haired, gal out for a drive. When it began I was whistling a happy tune by the end I could barely pucker.

Yes, by the time the game was over I was covered in sweat and my shiny new yellow car was nothing but a smoldering wreck. Don't even ask about my avatar she wouldn't have spoken to me if she could. But since she was trapped in the fiery wreckage I can only imagine her wrestling with her broken bones to flip me the bird before she became one with the computer cosmos.

I looked over and my son was jumping up and down clapping he had come in first place his avatar was waving a winner flag and his beautiful red car was shiny and proud.

So if today you hear about a ten car pile up in NYC caused by a student driver please don't tell my avatar I know she'll gloat.

A Letter To My Bod

Dear Body:

You have been a good body Ive been really pleased about our relationship. You breathe you eat and make it possible for me to do everything I need to do in the course of a day. Remember that time we went to the beach...it was all thanks to you. You body are to be commended.

Lately I've noticed you are beginning to hmmm.. whats a nice way to put it..fall apart. I'm not sure who gave you the fall apart message perhaps it was that nasty 5th vertebrae (she's always causing problems) or maybe someone told you this year we would be turning 40.

Contrary to popular belief 40 does not mean one has to fall to pieces. It is not necessary to tell hair follicles to fall out. It's not par for the course to cause us to end up in the hospital in abdominal pain. Neither do you need to give into to migraines, excessive gas, incontinence, scumming to gravity in important and unflattering areas,wrinkling, hemorrhoids or anything else you may associate with the dreaded four zero.

It is my great hope that we will have many many long years left together. I would love to see the world and body it would be my greatest dream to have you there with me. So do me a favor ignore the big four zero its just a number and not a message of destruction and please tell the 5th vertebrae to get a life.

Love,
Suzie

Post Cards From the Hospital

Some people know how to vacation. They go to Peru or Bornio. Some people prefer Disney or Universal. I however being the unique soul that I am I choose the hospital. Yes the last few days I have been in the hospital throwing up blood and experiencing what can only be described as labor without the wonderful little present at the end.

Wednesday I woke up in the middle of the night feeling as though fairies were pulling my spleen out of my toenails. After a fun filled night of moaning and scaring my husband into an early grave I went to the doctor who quickly sent me to the emergency room. From there I was admitted into the hospital from hell for a fun filled night of injections in the stomach being poked in places even my husband would not dare to go and lemon flavored jello ((shudder)).

I wont bore you with all the details but suffice it to say that Beth Israel is one horrible hospital. And after being poked and prodded and cat scanned and dog scanned the doctor followed by a team of groveling interns said So what do you think is wrong with you?

I laughed and then realized he was serious and staring at this bunch of incompetents I answered My doctorate is in Education Administration ask me whats wrong with a school I can tell you but reading a cat scan is not my speciality.

The doctor and his gang looked disappointed they shrugged their shoulders and moved on to ask another patient to analyze a brain scan.

So according to dopey sneezy and doc I either have an ulcer, gal stones, food poisoning, an alien abduction that went wrong, or a hang nail.

Either way someone owes me a trip to Disney World.

Give Me Back My Candy!

On Friday in my preschool graduation anxiety I bought a candy bar. Not any candy bar but a Hershey bar. I have to be in the right mood to eat them but when I am they are just so good. I ate a few bites and put it away in my draw for another day. You never know when a chocolate bar could come in handy. All weekend I thought about that bar. I knew Monday morning if I wanted to I could walk in my office at 7am and eat the whole thing.

On Monday I came into my office and there on my desk was a wrapper. A brown crumpled up wrapper. Yes, someone had eaten my candy bar. At first I was ok with it. NO biggy. I could have had other things stolen I mean a candy bar is not much to loose. But as the week has gone on (yes I know it is only Tuesday) I have gotten more resentful about that bar.

I mean I could be eating its delicious chocolatiness right now. But no! Some lunatic bursts into my office over the weekend and steals my little piece of joy. What mean nasty person does a thing like that. Its my candy bar! Not theirs! I am trying not to let my obsession grow but now I want to find this person. I want to find out what kind of heartless meany would do such a thing. I will not rest until I have found the culprit. I will not cease until I have caught the evil dooer and brought them to cholatey justice!

On the flip side B's graduation was great. Here's a picture. Isn't he cute?



and here is an empanada (as some of you were not familiar with its flaky crust and its yummy meat or cheese filling)

and here is a picture of a chocolate bar

cute as well but please note the chocolate bar is not holding a diploma and does not have a flaky crust or a yummy meat or cheese filling..

Poor chocolate bar....

I may be a little obsessed

My Own Little Panic Attack

Today is B's preschool graduation. Not only is my little boy graduating but I as director I am helping run the thing.

Last night as I sat on the couch watching I'm a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here which is now my favorite show on TV. (I mean seeing Janice Dickinson steal granola bars and urinate in camp has to be one of the most brilliant forms of entertainment ever created.) I began to wonder what dish I should bring to the graduation should I order a pizza or make empanadas?

It was no longer a simple choice it was THE choice. I found I could no longer breath. My heart raced. I began to mumble pizza no empanada.

I mean kids love pizza right and grown ups love empanadas the choice was staggering and before I knew it I was hyperventilating. I knew if I didn't make the right choice the empanada demons would take over the world and the pizza that I ordered would have saved all the inhabitants of earth. My husband turned to me and with a wild look of concern on his face. I clutched at my throat and gurgled pizza.

Yes I was having a full panic attack over what to bring to the graduation.

You would think with the state of the world today fiances being what it was I would find something sensible to have a panic attack over but no, being the overachiever I am I decided to go full panic out on graduation.

Honey my Hubby assured me I will bring the food calm down its all gonna be fine.

No I gasped its not its not

And before I knew it I was boo-hooing over little B going to kindergarten. My little baby leaving his mommies school and going into the big public school. I saw tests and bullies and detention in his future and began to wail. My hubby grabbed the vodka and assured me he would be fine and keep repeating he would order the pizza.

After a big cocktail and some onion dip visualizations I was breathing a little easier as Janice climbed into a glass cage filled with alligators.

I might be ok now but don't blame me if your day is cut short by wild hoards of empanada demons. You've been warned.

I'm Back!

I'm back. Did you miss me? The trip was great lots of sunshine and deck chairs. Lots of fatty foods and frozen drinks. And the crowning glory , child care! Ahh that was the life.

But now I am back and normal life comes flying at you faster than a baby on a greased sit and spin.

So to really get a good does of reality I went to sign up for driving lessons. It was a brave move on my part since I've never been comfortable with the idea of driving. I always crash those electronic driving game into the wall or run someone over in the first two minutes. But I made a promise to myself that I will learn how to drive in the next three months. So I swallowed my fear and went to sign up at the driving school. Of course I asked lots of questions like are their duel controls for me and the driver? Will the teacher yell at me? How many people crash while learning?

The woman was very nice and answered all of my questions and then said to me:

I know how hard it is for middle aged woman to learn how to drive? Middle aged woman always ask questions like that.

WHAT?!?!

WHAT DID SHE SAY!?!

MIDDLE AGED WOMAN! ME? WHAT THE...!?!

Suddenly my fear of driving was the least of my worries I was now a middle aged woman. I guess I saw it coming people no longer calling me miss and the dreaded Ma'am rearing its ugly head. The reduction of cat calls while passing construction sites. The rechecking if its mammogram time at the doc. It all lead here to the first time I have been called middle aged.

Suddenly there I was a middle aged woman standing in a driving school. It was awful it was unpleasant and worst of all it was the truth (I think how old is middle aged anyway? Isn't it 50 now. I mean jeepers I'm only 39! Still a spring chicken still in my thirties at least for another few months. Whats wrong with that chick anyway who says things like that! That's it I'm taking my toys and going home!)

I should have never come back from vacation.

Im Going On A Trip!

So I am ready to go on vacation to Club Med for a week. How do I know? These are my subtle clues:

I just slammed my head into a door and I am here at my desk typing with a big slab of butter and salt on my head. (Apparently its an old remedy to stop my head from swelling some of the teachers applied to my head with glee.)

A bug flew into my eye this morning causing terrible pain and lots of snickering.

I didn't sleep at all last night partly due to everyone having bad dreams in shifts and partly due to my own bad dreams about airports and screaming children.

I have bronchitis and sound so much like Darth Vader I'm sure they will kick me off the plane for spreading the Swine Flu.

Yes As you night have guessed I am not the best traveler. I have nightmare about planes and the smallest amount of turbulence sends me into a fit and I attract disaster and door frames in the days leading up to a trip but I am going. And I am going to have fun. I better after all this.

My goal is to make it through the rest of today without loosing a limb or a vital organ and hopefully I will see you all in a weeks time.

The DMV Strikes Again

Well I did it. I now have a learners permit.

I walked into that DMV held held high...well not too high as they might recognize me from the other two times I was escorted out of the DMV. Presented my 15 different types of ID including my library card, cable bill and an offer for a 0% interest credit card from Herbie's Bank and Chicken wings shack and took my test. It was nerve wracking but I sat in my little desk and answered questions about stop signs and yielding and other driving stuff. I waited for the results and then was called to the counter to be told yes indeed I had passed.

I screamed with joy hugged the clerk who almost called security and ran out clutching my new leaner's permit. It may have taken me two tries, being thrown out twice and being told I didn't have enough ID over and over and over again but I did it. I ran gleefully to the elevator when three things stopped me cold :

1. I had just passed a test many 15 year old pass on the first time (it took me two tries Dr. Suzie!). I can hear the jokes now"Oh is it your 16 birthday today I must have forgot."

2. If I passed the actual test I was likely to become every ones personal driver. Oh Mommy could you drive me to soccer? Mom can I go to the mall? Mommy can you drive down town and bail me out of jail it wasn't my fault I swear!

3. If I went to a wedding or party I would likely become the designated driver and never be able to drink and have fun again. Hey Suzie a tequila shot accidentally fell into my mouth i guess your gonna have to drive the three hours back to NYC.

This little piece of paper was no longer my triumph it was a stupid move a dumb move one that would haunt me for all time. First I should have never learned to cook. Second I should have never started cleaning ever. I should have lived in filth until someone other than me learned to clean. The one thing I had going for me was not knowing how to drive and now silly me silly know it all Suzie was now going to do it all.

I hate you DMV! It's all your fault!
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By the way thank you all for your kind thoughts. Having my bloggy friends support is such a wonderful thing. I know this death will take a long time to come to terms with but having a place to vent and laugh is such a valuable thing.

Sadness

My friend died. He has been my friend since middle school. I loved him I always thought he'd be in my life. I knew he was sick but somehow on emails it just didn't seem so serious. I thought he'd get better I thought we'd hang out dance have fun again. But he died and its so awful I can barely breath. I want to scream and cry and by doing these things I want him to come back and not still be dead. But its pointless no matter what I do he'll be dead. I will never see him again no one will share those memories we shared for all those years with me again. Ill never get those quirky emails again. He'll never meet my kids he'll never see my face and Ill never see his again. Its just so sad. I feel like there is a big hole in my heart. Its raw and ugly and shameful and just so sad.

I have no friends to have a drink with to toast his memory with to tell the old stories to. Everyone is far away and I feel so alone. I don't know what to do and in reality none of it matters because nothing is going to change anyway. It is what it is. Death is final and I just want to go to sleep and wake up and have it all be better but none of that will happen will it.

My Printer Is Possesed

I HATE MY PRINTER!!! It is a mean ugly printer that is obviously out to get me. Ask me go on ask me what I have been doing for the last two days. Sadly enough I have been trying to get my printer to print. I'm not sure if its having an identity crisis maybe now it thinks it is a bread machine and not a printer maybe that's why it will not print but if that was the case shouldn't I be greeted each morning with a nice sour dough roll or some sliced pumpernickel. I keep waiting but no. My printer does not think it is a bread machine. Maybe it giving me the cold shoulder for some passing cartridge comment. Well printer I didn't mean it. I'm sorry please please print....

Obviously I am loosing it. What gal in her right mind would spend 48 hours trying to fix a misguided printer? What girl would dream solutions in her sleep which would obviously be greeted with failure in the morning when her paper weight of a printer would stare at her in disgust and laugh at her sad attempts at trying to get her to print.

I don't care printer! You wont break me. I am stronger than that.

In other news I am going to the DMV tomorrow. If you turn on your TV tomorrow and see a girl being escorted out of the DMV in a straight jacket with a printer under her arm and laughing hysterically just turn the channel. Please don't watch my shame.

That Shamoo guy

We have been having a sleep strike in my house. Little S has decided the only way she will sleep if I am in the room. She is very specific as she is the queen of everything and must be obeyed. I must sit on a little blue stool right next to her bed legs in front of me and back turned to her bed. If I fail to disobey in any way ie cross legs or face the wrong way I am rewarded with up to 2 hours of screaming. The type of screaming it is impossible to ignore, watch tv through or have any type of conversation that does not involve saying "Huh? What?" a couple of hundred times.

Now for you first time parents out there I know you are horrified by my ability to let my child scream for an extended period of time (its true I would have never done it with my first) and be so callous as to hold a conversation during it but when the second one comes around you realize as long as they are not bleeding, killing one another with sharp objects or have lost a limb they are fine and crying is not gonna hurt them. That's how I roll anyway.

So after several days of enduring the screaming with no end in sight I enrolled the help of little B. I explained that Little S was very upset about sleeping and could he help. After careful consideration and a few ice pops he agreed.

So I put B to the test and wouldn't you know it within 45 min S was asleep no screaming no muss no fuss. I heard him say things like S I love you but I am very tried so you will have to go to sleep now. And lay down S I'm here with you. I think he sprinkled some fairy dust cast a magic spell and poof she was asleep.

I now know the truth B is blessed with magical sleeping powers. I had no idea he was a sleep guru. That fairy dust magic sleep thing is a gold mine. I now see the possibilities and will be renting him out to do his magic for only $999.99 nightly. I can see it now the shamoo guy trying to hawk little B's sleeping abilities. Maybe a late night infomercial. Watch out QVC here we come!

My Life of Crime

I was gonna take a bloggy break but then I I went out. I hear the gasps out there. Yes I really went out. Thus here is the after post. Its sort of like the after glow but with typing instead of smoking.

So I went out. We hired a babysitter and everything and went out to a party. OK it really wasn't a party. In fact it was some travel agent event where they tried to hawk expensive vacations that we couldn't afford in a 100 years. But there was free food and drinks so lets call it a party.

So at the party there were tables set up advertising different trips that we would never go on. We walked around and took the small amounts of strange swag they offered. We had luggage locks and bookmarks and even a bandanna. But on this one table they had these banks that were shaped like penguins. They were so cute I could imagine the look of joy on my kids face as I handed them the penguin in the morning. I asked if I could have one but was told no they were just for display.

As the night wore on I got a little tipsy and suddenly that bank looked mighty appealing and before I knew it I had that bank in my grubby little hands. Yes I stole a penguin bank me Suzie the mother, wife and moral compass for the family. I was a thief and whats worse I liked it. I laughed and hid it feeling so bad ass. The old Suzie was back. I was dangerous and wild and the bank was mine. I had done it. I was home free.

When suddenly a hand tapped me on the shoulder.

Give me the bank.

I turned and there was a very angry travel agent stamping her foot in anger and looking like she wanted to kill me.

She grabbed the penguin bank.

Just kidding I stammered.

No you weren't! She said as she walked away in obvious disgust with my thieving ways.

I guess I'm not cut out for a life of crime but for one shining moment that penguin bank was mine...all mine.

Where Have I gone?

I've been a bad blogger lately. Somehow I seem to have lost the drive, the joy de blogg, the muse of the blogg. There's a lot going on and each day I think today's the day I will blog about my hang nail or today's the day I will complain about my child's complete lack of interest in brushing his teeth but each day I seem to get caught up in this and that and before I know it I'm laying in bed wondering where the day has gone. Its sad but true. I think it happens to all bloggers eventually. Its not like nothing interesting is going on its just hard to keep up with it all and sadly blogging seems to fall to the bottom of the list each day.

What is also hard is enough people I know read this that I have to be careful about what I can say and the idea of self censoring while writing just gets overwhelming. I'm not sure what Ill do about all of this. I guess I'll post when I can and give myself a break if I take a break. Still love you guys and I plan to get back to my bloggyness when I can .

I Should Be Ashamed

I like to think of myself as a reasonable person. I am polite I try to be nice I dont curse or hit people. I might even be called mild mannered by some. But what most people don't know is that under this seemingly nice exterior is a temper. It doesn't show itself often but something about the DMV (Department of Motor Vehicles for you foreign types) unleashes the volcano of anger that has been lying dormant in me for years.

I think it starts when they call me Ma'am. I know it is supposed to be polite but it makes me feel old and something about that ma'am word feels snarky and down right rude.

The next thing is the blank stare they give when the paper work they handed you and told you to fill out is now not the right paper work and they tell you to go stand in another line for the next twelve hours of your life to get another piece of paper.

It is at this point where I snap. I don't even drive but I made myself a promise I would drive by the age of 40. Its down to the wire as I am getting old and I thought (I guess in a naive laughable who do you think you are kind of a way) that getting the learners permit would be about studying and memorizing traffic signs not seeing if I could stop myself from freaking out at a DMV employee who just snapped her gum in my face while announcing that my New York State ID was not good enough proof of ID for New York State.

So I started off my Friday morning the way I did last Friday morning being escorted out of the DMV office by security. Yes, even keeled Suzie cursed and yelled and flailed her arms while screaming at the entire DMV office. Not once but twice!

What can I say.... I guess every superman has his red cryptonite and for sure the DMV is mine.

Day 35

Day 35. Still no cook hired at work. Day 35 of me, the director doing the cooking for the whole school.

Day 35 shall also be known as the day Suzie the director/cook set a very large pot of rice on fire. Complete with flames and smoke.

And day 35 shall also be known as the day of the tremendous stink.

For those of you who have never set a large pot full of pounds and pounds of rice on fire you are missing out on a very unique smell. The smell is a cross between burnt smell, farts and desperation. It is a smell no matter how you spray or air and area out will never seem to go away.

Its the kind of smell where upon entering the school people stare accusingly at one another and wait for the other to blush.

It is the kind of smell that clings to you and follows you home.

It is the kind of smell that says do not let this women ever cook again. Take away her pot. Take away her serving spoon for the good of mankind.

The smell has spoken...I beg of you people please listen before it is too late.

I Got IT!

Little S has eczema that seems to flare up for no rhyme or reason. When she gets a flare up we cover the area twice a day with a prescription cream and then smother her in Crisco. I know it sounds crazy but in a day or two it usually goes away.

My hubby on the weekends gives the kids a bath. So I reminded him about using the cream after her bath.

Its in the second draw I reminded him by the diaper rash cream.

Got it he said.

After the bath I heard crying and the sounds of a struggle. I wandered into the bathroom.

He seemed really annoyed and told me I got it! I did it last night it was fine it'll be fine again tonight! She just doesn't like it.

I looked around but the prescription cream was no where in sight.

But honey I don't see the prescription cream just the Crisco. I said trying not to sound like the nagging wife I am. What cream are you using?

The cream from the second draw. He barked at me.

I looked down my crying little baby was completely white like a ghost. She smelled like fish and seemed very put out.

And in my hubby's hand was the diaper rash cream.

Yes my hubby had covered my baby head to toe in destine.

I wondered why it was so hard to spread. He grumbled.

Say It With Shredded Cheese

I gotta say. There's no use holding back. I'M gonna say it loud and proud... I hate cooking!

Hate it!
Loath it!
Detest it!

So how is it I am now the cook for my kids my husband sometimes even my parents and now MY WORK!!!! OK there's a long story connected with it but suffice it to say the cook she is gone and no one including me wants to be the cook anymore. So rather than let the kids starve. Rather than let the parents complain and relvot I am now up to my elbows in baby bottles and graham crackers.

Not to sound like the guy on Star Trek but I'm a doctor not a cook dammit!

In this job as daycare director I have drained radiators, killed large bugs, unblocked toilets. I even held a girls arm on as part of it dangled off after falling off the jungle gym. I did this all gladly with a smile on my face (except for the last one cause that would just be sick) but making macaroni and cheese for 56 ungrateful kids and teachers...NO! I say NO!

Why why did I go to school for a million years to get my PhD? Go into debt with school loans? Was it to spill someone else's breast milk all over my suit jacket? Was it so I could make 56 pita pizzas?

No!

In fact I just threw a fit with shredded cheese that left me embarrassed and slimy. And why? Cause I don't wanna be the cook anymore!

I hate it!

I hate it!

I hate it!

...anyone need a job?

Grandpa's House

I just came back from a few days in Philly visiting my folks with the kids for Passover (my favorite holiday!). For little B it is better than Disney Land. He and his Grandpa spend hours jumping on the bed and causing mayhem in the house. He believes his Grandpa is 4 years old and just an over sized kid (maybe he has some glandular problem that makes him so tall but B is just too polite to ask) and a great play mate.

The trip always ends with B saying can we please stay here forever?

I love this relationship It is sweet and wonderful and it makes my heart swell with love for both of them but no matter what by the time we leave B has infected my (not four year old father) with something awful. B sniffles and slimes on his grandpa and this time he even threw up on him. So its not surprise that as we leave my father sniffs not only with remorse at seeing his little play mate leave but with the first symptoms of the tropical illness B has infected him with.

My Dad is in his 70's although he's a strapping guy he's eligible for free bus rides and discount movie tickets. Age does not make these icky childhood illnesses any fun at all. So I have the impulse to wrap B is plastic wrap and fit my father with a plastic bubble so I would not have to wait for my mom to call and say the inevitable.

Your father is sick....he's not a young man you know.... (insert pause for guilt and foot taping)

So when B asks Can we stay here forever the answer is no you little pattrie dish! Not this year. Now get your finger out of your nose!

So Sorry

I'M not trying to ignore you guys. You know I wouldn't. I love my bloggy friends but lately Ive barely had a chance to clip my toe nails let alone blog or even read blogs.

Each morning I wake up to some kind of crisis. Whether its wet sheets water bugs or nightmares. What would a morning be without doing excessive laundry, nose wiping and monster chasing

Give BOTH kids asthma treatments. Yes my kids never do anything easily why do once when it is so much more fun to have both kids get morning asthma attacks at the same time and vie for the one machine we have in the house. Yes I lost the other machine. I don't know where it disappeared into the wear house of stuff I call my house.

Get to work and cook for 56 kids. Yes while the cook is on leave I am now the cook. I have set oven mitts on fire and burned waffles but still they let me cook aren't I lucky.

Change 26 kid's diapers. Make 46 baby bottles.

Deal with crazy staff members. Deal with crazy kids. File, stamp, and do the Hokey Pokey.

Go home cook for the kids clean the house, bathe the kids set up everything for the morning.

Put kids to bed cook for hubby.

Fall into stupor

Wake up do it again.

So I am a little overwhelmed right now. But don't worry my Bloggy friends as soon as I've found time to take care of my luxuriously long toe nails, and maybe find some time to brush my teeth I shall be back to posting a little more frequently until then....Arghhhhhh!!!!

My Baby is A Genius!

You know me. I'm not one of those parents who gloss over the hard stuff I can be cynical even a little sarcastic at times when talking about parenting. But something happened today that made me the sappiest, gushiest most over the top mommy ever. My little boy my sweet little baby wrote his name for the first time.

He just sat down and boom there it was.

So I did what any other reasonable person would do. I snatched it out of his hands ran into my office and promptly burst into tears. After that I called his Dad his Grandma and Grandpa and all of my in laws. Then I emailed every relative yes, even Aunt Carol who has never liked me since that grilled cheese incident of 74 (just don't ask) yes, even Aunt Carol received an email with an attachment containing in high definition and a ridiculously huge size (so one can study it if need be) my baby's first writing of his name.

After I was done with that I went on Face book and posted my sons crayon masterpiece that proves he is not just any four year old he is a super genius ready for early college admissions with the beautiful writing of his name.

I stopped myself from running out of work and having the paper laminated and framed so upon my death bed I could gaze at his first name printing and cry with joy at my wonderful son who could do no wrong ever for any reason (shhh...I'm having a moment)

So for now I will bathe in the glory that is my sons first writing of his name and hope my tears of joy do not smear the wonderful red crayon that spelled his wonderful amazing name.

...Maybe I should lay off the caffeine for a while too.

The Shoe Shop of Doom!

This weekend my son had a growth spurt. Not the normal one where he grows a little at a time but one where he woke up in the morning and nothing fit. Not his underwear, pants or even his shoes. So my Sunday was spent running around with a four year and my 17 month old trying to buy a whole new wardrobe. We were doing OK until we hit the shoe shop.

The shoe shop is my traditional place of hell. I am not one of those women who lust after shoes. I hate them and more than hating shoes I hate shopping for them. As a kid my mother and I always had our most impressive fights in the shoe shop. I vividly recall her threatening me with a pair of high heeled shoes as she waved it above my head and not so calmly discussed my dating choices.

So we got to the shoe shop and B immediately went for the pink light up Hannah Montana shoes.

I want these mommy.

Sorry sweety I said calmly putting them back and looking at the boys shoes, We need to find shoes that you can wear to shoes. These brown ones are nice.

NOOOOO!!!!! I want the Hannah Montana shoes! I WANT EM! I DO MOMMYYYYY!!!!

But sweety...

Suddenly I was hit in the head by a pair of red pump.

Hannah Montana Mommy!!!!!

A pair of spiked boots came flying at my head.

My little S was armed and was lobbing shoes at my head as fast as a malfunctioning batting cage.

NOT THE BROWN ONES!!!!! I WANT PINK!!!!!!!!

I ducked as a pair of ballet flats connected with my head.

Not the brown mommy!!! NO!!!!! I WANT THE PINK LIGHT UP HANNA MONTANA SHOES! NOW!!!!!! WAAAA!!!!!!!!

I picked up my children one under each arm and ran up the stairs to the check out (Yes the sadists keep the children's section in the basement) leaving the wreckage and the pink light up Hanna Montana shoes and a pile of shoe missiles behind us.

He better not grow anymore for a while otherwise we will be practicing the art of foot binding...or my husband can take them. Either one.

I Saw It

I did it I joined the ranks of millions of teenage girls and I rented Twilight. I could only watch first half but I think being exposed to that film for a good hour makes me a total expert in teenage girls and today's youth. This is what I've discovered about the youth of today.

Teen aged girls love boys with waxed eye brows this is also true of the Jonas brothers who my husband went to the bathroom with and found himself totally intimidated by their scarily perfect eyebrows.

Teen aged girls do not suddenly discover their hip hurts while they are watching the movie and excuse themselves at totally the best part to pop Advil and grab a heating pad

Teen aged girls love boys with lots and lots of make up including eye brow pencil, lots of mascara and plenty of lipstick.

Teen agers are still as mopey and distant as I was when I was 17.

Teen aged girls need to be locked away until adult hood for their own good because not only do they always want the boy who is the worst choice (I mean the guys dead and has to stop himself from eating her or goodness sake) but they go out with guys who are way too old for them (Like 130 years to old for them. What do these two have to talk about anyway? She grew up watching Dora and he grew up watching fire. I'm sure these two would have some really fascinating conversations)

Teen aged girls do not stop the movie when Edward and Bella are holding hands and he 's a glowy and cute and go to bed at 9pm cause they have a big day tomorrow

So that is my take on todays youth. Excuse me while I skip the rest of the film and go find the strongest lock made to get ready for Little S teen age years.

It All Starts Here

Today's the day in 15 min I leave to register my Little B in kindergarten. I didn't sleep at all last night. Instead of catching some zzz instead I chose to freak out. As I lay there time began to speed up. First B was in kindergarten cute and little holding my hand. Then I sped right past first grade second grade. In fact I zipped past middle school entirely and found myself slamming into his high school years.

I saw B as a surly teenager. Where all he did was hang out with his friends play video games and was hell to be around. I found myself questioning everything. Will he hate me will he be as bad as I was at that age? Will he never snuggle with me again?

And then when he finally recovers from his teenage years I wont be able to reap the benefits. Because then he'll find his life partner and he'll just call me every once in a while when he feels guilty and I will just miss him so much my heart will break.

So I guess I am officially a mess. So here I go setting my child on the road to life.

I need a hug...

or a big sandwich

Tooting the Night Horn

Last night I was sleeping quietly when what sounded like a loud car back fire woke me up. I sat up in bed wondering what was going on was it a car a gun the start of some night time race when I heard it again. This time it was clear that was no car back firing that was the sound of the passing of some serious wind. I looked accusingly at my hubby as he slept on as innocent as a lamb.

Well! I thought there goes the romance. We've never been the kind of couple to cut the cheese freely in front of one another. We've never even used the bathroom in front of one another and as far as I know he may have never answered natures call in his life. (Hey don't judge. After witnessing child birth twice you do what you can to keep the mystery alive.)

I was catapulted out of my thoughts when suddenly it sounded. The passing of wind this time as a long scary musical note followed by some little toots and a loud thunderous clap.

I was shocked. It came form the wrong direction. It was near my side of the bed. I looked around for someone else to blame.

There's no dog anymore it couldn't be him.

Is it me?

Am I the nocturnal farter? Am I the one tooting the night horn?

Once again the bottom trumpet was sounded.. and it wasnt me of that I was sure. I felt no rumbling, no gust of air. It was... the baby monitor.

My beautiful little S was the midnight tooter. Yes my tiny little girl was sleeping bottom up and was creating such a noise that even my son stirred.

Strangly enough I found I was proud. Yup, my little girl may be tiny, she may not even be on the weight and height charts but her powerful gas cried out I am here! I count! I am a powerful gassy being!

Hey, I'm a mom I take pride where I can get it...shesh

The Beast Returns

The evil beast that had previously possessed my son seems to have jumped ship and is now residing in my daughter. I began to realize it during the last few days when she began throwing temper tantrums of such magnitude that even dogs stop and stare at my daughters high pitched shenanigans.

A wonderful example of this was yesterday at work. Work is tense to say the least. Parents are loosing their jobs by the dozens and tempers are high. It was the end of a particularly tense day and I was very glad to be on my way home. Little S toddled out of her classroom looking so cute with a big smile of her face. I gave her a hug and when I went to put on her coat the beast emerged.

She began screaming and kicking and crying and howling. I put her down on the floor and the real show began. She arched her back, kicked and flailed. Parents craned their necks to see who the bad parent was with the insane child and low and behold it was me. Dr. Mom who is supposed to be a child expert helplessly watching her daughter go insane in the hallway. Even B stood watching his mouth open in awe and horror at the beast which used to be his sister.

Now I'm just waiting for the projectile vomiting and her using telepathy to push a man of the cloth out the window and well be all set.

My Daughter Has Skills

I don't know if I should write about this but I am impressed with my daughters ingenuity. So please dear readers do not be offeneded but as you know my kids are a little on the gross side.

Dinner was not a big success at my house last night. After they were done throwing the dinner of rice and sloppy Joe's around the cries of I'm still hungry echoed through my kitchen. In response I gave my son and daughter four pretzels each (a very big treat). They were thrilled and ran around in pretzel joy.

After a little while it was bath time. Little S stood up and looked very uncomfortable and started crying and patting herself. Finally she sat down and plop plop plop the pretzels popped to the surface. Apparently she had stored her pretzels for later like a little drug mule. Don't ask me how she did it. But yes she did. She grabbed the pretzels and shoved them in her mouth and was very unhappy with the results.


Well with the way her college fund is doing these days I think training in the drug mule business might not be such a bad idea. Hey at least she has skills.

My Eye Hurts

My eye hurts. I don't know why. I just woke just this morning and there it was stinging away. Now I am not the sort of person to get crazy about small things. I'm just a go with the flow type of gal. Its a good thing I'm not one of those crazy nuts who blow everything out of proportion because if I was these are some things I might have thought happened to my peeper:

1. I was abducted by aliens and they implanted a chip in my eye so they could find me later. Hey its better than the anal probe.
2. I scratched my eye during a fight with a vampire. After the fight my memory was erased so I would not tell anyone of their secret lair.
3. I'm actually a super hero while I sleep and I wear colored contacts to hide my secret identity. They make my eyes ache sometimes but saving those puppies and seven babies was totally worth it.
4. During the night a fertile bug deposited eggs in my Corina. In a few weeks they will hatch like the movie aliens and take over the earth
5. I'm possessed and the demon is trying to get out through my eye
6. The kids did something bad bad bad
   
7. Because of fear of the recession unbeknowst to me my hubby rents out my eyes while I sleep to make some extra cash. The person who used it last night was not careful and scratched it He will not be getting his security deposit back.

Its probably nothing. I'll just be wearing tin foil on my head and locking my door at night until I know for sure.

It Just Might Make Me Grumpy

I hate daylight savings time. Its disturbing. Getting up at 5:40am when you know its really 4:30am just throws me and makes me grumpy.

You know what else is disturbing and makes me grumpy. Going to your regular Mexican fast food joint and as you order seeing a toddler in a pink princess dress wandering through the kitchen on the other side of the cash register.

You know what make me even more grumpy is realizing that that toddler in the pink princess dress is your baby who your husband is supposed to be watching while you get the food.

Not that that happened on Sunday. Not my husband no way! He would never fail to realize that his baby in the pink princess dress had left the table wandered into a restaurant kitchen causing kitchen wide panic as the restaurant workers tried to stop my little girl from making her way to a large vat of guacamole in the back of the kitchen to stick her hand in it. Nor would he ever completely forget that we have two children who need consent supervision and become so engrossed in a set of instructions to build a balsa wood airplane that he would allow both children to wander freely through out the restaurant giving his son time to shove eight lemon slices with rind into his mouth while no one watched.

That same man would not look at me shrug and say I thought you had it covered. Nope cause that would make me mighty grumpy. Uh huh....

Where Out Thou Oh Hoagie?

Its sad I am truly obsessed with a sandwich. I think about it all of the time I even dream about it. Its not just any sandwich its an Italian Hoagie from my home town of Philadelphia.

The anti kosher nastiness that makes you feel bloated for hours afterwards. It stains your clothes and makes your breath smell bad. But its so worth it. I've been obsessed with men I did the teenage stalking thing but this this is different. This sandwich has invaded my thoughts, my dreams. Any food does not hold a candle to it.

Why not just eat one you may ask? Because my sandwich is 97.12 miles away (Yes I map quested it). I tried to bribe my Dad who lives in Philly to fed ex me the sandwich he laughed and explained the bread would never hold up. I explained to him I would take that risk but alas no. No sandwich will be forthcoming.

I guess the fact I am dieting has something to do with it. Nothing that hasn't been weighed measured critiqued and fussed over ever enters my stomach. But this sandwich with its mayonnaise and vinegar soaked bread would have me throwing my scales and measuring cups out the window if only for a moment of its time.

I mean just look at it.

Its tempting luncheon meat, its soggy soaked bread. Who wouldn't rather spend a good 10 min with this sandwich than doing any thing else. Yes you heard me right I would rather have 10 min alone with this sandwich than 10 min alone with Brad Pitt (Unless he was holding this sandwich during that time for me to snack upon).

I don't think I have ever been this obsessed with food let alone a sandwich. I wish I could forget, think about something else. But alas it is no use.

So unless Brad shows up soon my Dad gives in and mails me sandwich or the tooth fairy stops delivering quarters and leaves a sandwich under my pillow instead I guess I am doomed to eat my diet food and wait until I can see my love again...someday.

A Blood Thirsty Sandwich

I planned to blog about my favorite sandwich the Philadelphia hoagie which I am now truly obsessing on. Yes I think about this sandwich I dream about it. It has taken over my mind. I mean look at this thing.

But this morning something so crazy, so mind bending occurred that the sandwich actually took a back seat and instead I will blog about my sweet little blood thirsty child named Little S.

Yes this morning I learned that my beautiful little S is a horrible hulking monster. Yes a snarling beast. You may think I am exaggerating or being a bad mom but you did not witness the rage fulled babyness which I call S.

I began innocently enough it was a normal Wednesday. We had arrived at school and S was covered in snot. You see S has a perpetual runny nose. She is very cute but is constantly dripping snot. When it gets really bad she points to the snot and says eyes eyes eyes until someone hands her a tissue (Yes she is a little confused but she's 16 months hopefully by the times she's in high school she will have gotten this one straight)

So she's walking around the classroom saying eyes and I give her big brother B a tissue to hand to her. Instead of giving her the tissue he holds it over her head and starts to mock her eyes eyes he says in a baby voice. S leaps for it but she is too short. She shreiks she whines. She squeezes her little fists together but nothing seems to work.

Suddenly she lunges at her brother locking her teeth into his back. The next thing I know she is crying and biting and snotting on him. I pull her off of him and she lunges again biting into his back once again. I pry her little mouth off of him. She is wild and flailing trying to take a hunk out of her brother. She is out for blood and hysterical. Limbs flaying I take her out of the room. She is sobbing shouting eyes eyes and gnashing her little teeth together. After several minutes of hysteria she starts to calm down. I hand her a tissue and she looks up at me smiling and says Tank oo (S for thank you) in her sweet little baby voice.

I am not fooled. Today I have learned my baby is a vicious blood thirsty child....

I still want that sandwich though.

Snow Day

Its a snow day and instead of being asleep in my cosy bed I pushed my stroller through the fresh snow sweating and grunting along the way and lugged my family to work. Why you may ask? Good question. Well,I needed to let everyone know school was closed, feed the hamsters and fish and return a few emails...

OK that's all an excuse.

Here the truth Ruth.

The idea of spending another full day with my wonderful little kiddies alone trapped alone in the house for the day put me in such a panic I would have gotten here if giants had been lobbing boulders from the sky. I would have lugged my stroller here if bats had filled the street with a sea of guano.

Yup, its true.

I know I will have to go home eventually. I know I will have to face the stir crazy kids who will become truly scary at 4pm when the idea of spending one more hour with each other and me will make them scarier than a cat in a washing machine, then a four day old tuna fish sandwich in July then Dolly Parton first thing in the morning with no make up (sorry Dolly).

I know. I fear.

But for now...I have work to do.

I Hate My Scale

Its official I am obsessed with my scale.

Its a love hate obsession kind of thing. It sits by the side of my toilet mocking me calling to me. It says weigh yourself you know you want to. I resist its evil call NO I think I will only weigh myself once a week but each morning I give in.

I get up strip down and step upon its silver footprints. It lies says one weight, them another. I reposition my feet hoping to see that first weight the lower one. I stand on one foot then the other I turn around and yet it lies again telling a completely new weight a bigger one. I know I would stand on my hands if that would help.

It laughs at me.

Ha ha says my scale. You are my puppet I will now pull your strings. I try to break away I put the scale back. The next thing I know it is out again and I have moved it to a new location one where it will surely tell me a skinnier weight (yes, I remember now this is the skinny place) and it does briefly before once again flashing an entirely new weight. I get upset and prepare to step off when it flashes a weight completely unrelated a goal weight it knows I long to see.

Yes I think Ill take that weight.

I put the scale away. Get the kids dressed drink some coffee and find nature calling me. As soon as I finish I see the scale calling me again.

Come on it beckons you must have lost a few ounces at least. Now you'll get to see what you really weigh.

No I think this is crazy. I will not fall for your erratic numbers I am too strong.

Before I know what has happened I am naked again staring at the digital read out hoping to see a dainty weight
my high school weight
he weight of Kira Knightly after a very large sandwich.

Instead suddenly I find I weight three pounds more.

Disgusted I step away vowing tomorrow I will not be your fool you evil scale. But as I close the bathroom door I swear I can hear evil laughter.

And The Cow Goes Moo

Work once again is getting in the way of my blogging. Its not like its fun work things like going to the zoo or eating ice cream. Nope its annoying stressful work things. Who would have thought the world of early childhood would be as high stress as it is. Someday it is down right cut throat, high stress unpleasantness.

Its not like I am working in a roller derby where you are aware the other gal in the ring is mean and ornery and wants to knock you on your butt.

Its not like I am a pirate in search of gold and treasure knowing one day my looting and pillaging may to a public hanging or mutiny.

Nope I am an early childhood administrator. A gal who turned her back on the glamor of the stage (Yes, I was once a cow on Broadway. You should have heard my heartfelt mooing. The reviewers just loved me.) Instead I shunned all of that and focused my life on trying to help families and kids.

And I gotta tell you some days I think I need hazard pay. I suggested turning the filling cabinet into a relaxation spa with masseuses and a harpist or a small beach resort to help deal with the stress but unfortunately that seems a little hard to budget (would that fit under office supplies or misc).

But I have lots of faith in Wednesday. Its gonna be better than the last few days. It has too otherwise I am going to invest in a new cow costume.

Guess Who I Saw

I had so many blog plans toady. I was gonna write about a party I had where many of the people in attendance I recently re found via facebook and how strange and wonderful the experience was. I was gonna write about how Little B watched Bolt and freaked out and wandered the house in fear of some red eyed girl for 24 hours. But instead I had an experience this morning that knocked it all out of the water.

Getting B out of the house this morning was not easy. I felt like a record on repeat (for those of you young ens a record is a black piece of vinyl with music etched into its grooves used in ancient Rome). I said B get you glove B get your gloves until it sounded like BGETOURGLOVES BGETGLOVES BGEGL...... So we left the house and not only did B not have his gloves but neither did Little S. S was crying and B was chanting that his hands hurt. I stopped the stroller to stick my gloves on them while yelling at B he should have brought his gloves when I look up and who do you think is staring at me?

KATIE HOLMES!!!!

Yup Tom Cruise's wife is staring at B with a big smile on her face. I stared and turned bright red and tried to pretend I was not just yelling at my children. She waved at B and walked away.

I think I am a celebrity now by association. Soon I will have paparazzi chasing me down. Can't a girl even go to the store without all the flashbulbs? I will say. Soon Ill be wearing big dark sunglasses as I make my way down the red carpet.

Yes Katie Holmes and I shared something special...not sure what but it sure was exciting.

Sometime I just love New York.

An Infomercial of Lies

Last night B was on a screaming jag. For some reason he was very worked up that the water next to his bed that I had just poured was not fresh. So he sat in his bed crying and screaming at the top of his lounges scaring the poor baby out of her skull. I offered to change it for him I offered to have him change it. I held him I rocked him. I yelled I threatened but to no avail.

So my hubby and I sat in the living room listening to the screaming trying not to freak out while playing with the TV volume so we could hear anything above the ear splitting screams. When suddenly we heard:

Are your children making you crazy?
We both turned drawn to the magical voice on the TV

Do you feel like you are living in a battle zone?

We both nodded in unison. Eyes wide

Are you sick of the back talking, arguing? Do you wish you could just have your sweet child back?

Yes Yes ! We chanted

We have the solution to bring peace back to your family again.

We grabbed each others hands nodding and smiling. Yes they have the solution it will all be OK.

Just call 1-888-badkid

Before I knew what I was doing I had grabbed the phone. I dialed I knew would do anything they said military school, join the Moonies or shave my head. Heck I'd even launch him into space.

Hello you've reached 1-888-badkid are you ready to bring peace to your home?

We are! We shouted. We Are!

Are you ready to be friends with your child and stop the shouting and end the threats?

We are! We are!

So how old is your teenager?

ummm..4

Oh umm this program is for 12-18 year olds.

...damn.

..probably couldn't afford it anyway

Sick But Skinnyish

I'm back.

Sorry I've been a way so long but once again I've been sick.

My throat was filled with puss and I felt just awful. But I'm OK now. This has been a strange winter. I'm the type that never gets sick and now twice in almost 30 days I am laid up with just gross awful sicknesses. Nothing major just the kind that lands you flat on your back for a good week.

I hate being sick. Housework doesn't stop and the kids seem to need more attention than normal especially if you cant lift your head off the pillow. Hubby was great and really helped out but still.

However there are a couple of really good things about the winter germs. The best part is I lost another 10 pounds! Two illness later I am twenty pounds thinner. I was thinking about getting my own site and adverting loosing 20 pounds in 30 days through the www.rentmygermykidsforaday.com. Since I've poured through all of my sick days for the year I'm going to need the extra income if anyone else decides to get sick this year.

The other good thing is I have lots of good fodder for the blog. In my head I've been blogging away. Boy I was witty and insightful I had 45 comments. I think I won a few awards and was nominated for something. It was great.

So I hope you all haven't forgotten about me. If I could have sat up I totally would have been commenting away on your bloggs. I'm going there now and I promise I have some great insightful...OK I promise to blow you away with my witty wise ....Ok I promise to do the silly word recognition thing on your sites and try it at least twice before I give up and storm away.

Keep healthy

Its Not Fair

I'm so sick.

I am unable to function. I'm not sure why I'm here at work maybe just to spread the germs around so they wont be lonely.

I think we should start charging tuition for germs as they seem to spend more time at school then the kids do.

I know I should have called in sick but everyone else did.

So here I am spreading my germs. Unable to talk. Wanting to lay on my bed and Watch Big Love.

Sometimes I really hate being a grown up.

My Own Little Typhoid Mary

Its been some weekend. Everyone has been sick. Our little typhoid Mary otherwise known as Little S has been spreading her sea of germs wither and yon. One cough and she has spread her plague throughout the land. She herself seems to be fine expect for the pool of green snot that is constantly collecting below her nose.

My husband is the worst off. A little kiss snotty from his cute little baby and he has a full blown case of bronchitis. She leaves him laying in a ball moaning in pain.

I thought as a long time daycare director I could not be effected by her germs. I've gone years without so much as a cold. But little did I know that S has super germs capable of stopping a rhino in its tracks and cause it to spontaneously develop a serious case of pink eye. So I too have been effected. As I sit her now I am fighting giving into the throws of a flu she has given to me with her snotty sweet little hands.

Little B isn't much better although his illnesses seem to be shorter in duration then his grown up counterparts. However the whinnying created from the short lived illnesses are enough to drive even the strongest to his knees. Cries of MOMMY I WANT AN ICE POP NOW!!!!! I DON'T FEEL GOOD I NEED AN ICE PACK!!!! WAAAAAA!!! Seem to do more damage than little S's plague ridden hugs.

I've considered putting her in a bigger version of one of those hamster balls to help protect us for her evil germs. I even considered a suit made of plastic wrap and helmet. But I think at least for now we must accept the fact that our darling little daughter is really a germ factory waiting to infect us all.

Tales Of The Toilet Seat

Yesterday I went to the gym. Before I went out on the floor I thought I would stop and have a potty break. (Yes it is that kind of a post) I opened one of the stalls and was greeted with a toilet seat covered in pee. Yuck, I thought how gross. I shut the door. I opened the next stall and was assaulted by yet another pee pee covered seat. I went to the next and the next all the toilets were covered with the stuff.

I wonder how something like that happens. How do women who are designed to sit upon a seat manage to pee all over them? I doubt a man snuck into the women's locker room just to pee all over the seats. My four year old could be responsible as he has some terrible aim but as far as I know he doesn't go to my gym (unless he is doing so behind my back) so that rules him out.

Perhaps a women is trying to perfect peeing her name in the snow and is trying out her technique in the women's locker room on all of the toilets.

Maybe a giant pee monster escaped from the monster jail and is getting revenge and mistook the women's locker room for his captors home.

Whatever it is that peed all over the toilet seats in the locker room I must say I am impressed. If it had just hit one toilet I would have shrugged it off. But to hit all six shows it has some stamina and a very large bladder.

Good for you super bladder creature! Good for you!

Wisdom According to B

Since many of you did not appreciate the intellectual debate on Blues Clues. And many of you claimed not to watch Blues Clues at all due to silly reason such as not having young children and the like. I shall resort instead to child spoken wisdom. Although it breaks my heart not to include any references to children's show references or post any Sportacus pictures.

So this is for you my Blues Clues deprived bloggy friends:

You can never have enough chocolate milk

Mommy is not old (my favorite)

Grandpa is not 72 he is 4 years old

Jumping on the bed will solve everything

People live in the TV they are very small though

Its not picking your nose its just stracting the inside of your nose which is totally fine.

When you die you get up again a little bit later and you are OK

The two invisible cats with rainbows on their tummy's are responsible for all broken things

But the most important wisest thing ever said is....

wait for it....

You must wash never wash your bottom with a wash cloth before you wash your face.

Truer words have never been said


So sue me. I had to. He's just so cute