Smurfs

My kids saw the new Smurfs’ movie that came out last summer.  They loved it and I loved it too.  It was like taking a step back in time to my childhood.  Remember when Saturday morning cartoons were just that… cartoons.  I loved the Smurfs growing up.  They were awesome!  Smurfette was my favorite of course.  She had a pair.  Originally created to destroy the Smurfs by Gargamel.  Papa Smurf saved the day by weaving his magic and changing her nature AND her hair color.  But enough about my secret love of the Smurfs.  This is about what happened this summer in our very own backyard.

On August 16, 2011 the Smurfs moved into our backyard.  My 8-year-old daughter was so flippin’ excited she could barely contain herself.  I tried explaining that they were just mushrooms and that there were no Smurfs living in them.  She was adamant that there were Smurfs and that I had no clue what I was talking about.  After all I was a grown up and what do grown ups know about mythical little blue people who live in mushrooms?

Oh to be young and believe...

If the world was all rainbows and unicorns…

I am shallow.  So very shallow.  I know, it’s hard to believe.  I’ve gone through so much crap in my lifetime I could fertilize the whole freakin’ world.  Twice.

I desperately want to have a shopping addiction.  Not the kind where you go out and buy more than you have money in your pocket for.  I’m not sure I could ever go to such lengths as that.  I get nauseous from buying stupid things like makeup cause I can’t help but think about how this kid needs this or the boyfriend wants that.  It’s a curse.  Like a disease.  My wardrobe fits in 5 small drawers in our bedroom.  Wardrobe meaning everything from undergarments and socks to dress clothes.  Dave’s wardrobe takes up an entire walk-in closet and 7 drawers in the dressers in our room.  I have 4 pairs of shoes; a pair of heels, a pair of sneakers, a pair of flats and a pair of flip-flops.

I also want to paint again.  I want to buy canvas and stretcher bars and do the whole thing start to finish like I used to.  I want to feel artistic and speak with a french accent and act all crazy artist person.  This would be a pretty expensive hobby considering my only hobby right now is blogging and that doesn’t cost me anything.

I would love to have complete strangers, preferably men although I don’t think I’d say no to a really hot chick, to come up to me and ask to have dirty nasty stranger sex in a public restroom.  I want to feel undeniably sexy.  I want to be that girl in the perfect jeans and the cute little sexy top and the little jacket that walks into a place in her super sexy heels and everyone just stops and stares.  Then she smiles and the absolute brightness and perfectness of her causes the heavens to open up and angels to sing.  Yeah, I wanna be that chick.

I want to be allowed to be mad when I get really mad.  Not just the “oh man you kinda pissed me off there bud” mad.  I want to get all crazy white woman ninja gonna chop off your balls mad and then be told I’m gorgeous, handed a gallon of the most chocolatey chocolate ice cream and then have him disappear in torment for 20 minutes.  After that he can come back and we can have wondrous, long, sensual make me happy again sex.  Followed by cuddling.  The good kind like in the movies where the girl falls asleep but the guy stays awake cause he’s all ” I can’t believe I just got laid by this woman.  She is so freakin’ amazing I don’t want to close my eyes”.

I want to laugh.  I haven’t done that in a VERY long time.  Not the kind of laugh that just touches your face.  That’s lame laughing.  I want the kind that makes you double over and get a charlie horse in your stomach cause you are laughing so damn hard.  Laughing so hard you cry and snot comes out of your nose and then you laugh because of the snot.  And when you’re done laughing you have that awkward unstoppable giggle/grunt thing going on.  And the person you’re laughing with starts laughing again because for one your face is covered in snot cause you were convulsing with laughter while trying to wipe it off and two because you sound like a donkey in heat.  And then you start the charlie horse laugh all over again.

I want to have friends.  All kinds of friends.  I have one at the moment but she’s not really a friend.  She calls and asks to bum a smoke once every 2-3 months and then is gone till she needs another smoke.  I want to tell our pet fish that our relationship is over and that I’ve found someone new.  Someone with legs and thumbs and that I can go into a store with without everyone looking all crazy at me.

Lastly I want to grow a pair of balls… Cause I think life would be a little less painful with them… seems to work for my boyfriend anyways.

My top ten reasons I hate XBOX 360…

I am in a relationship with not only a man of 33 years but his XBOX as well.  At first it was cute.  He’d drool over them reminiscing of days long gone when he owned one.  He’d tell stories of friendships and fun.  When I bought him one he almost cried and he glowed.  It was as if God himself had come down and handed him the keys to the kingdom.  I was so happy that I had just granted my man his biggest wish.  Oh, if I had only known then what I know now.  This is my top ten reasons, although there really are more, of why I hate his XBOX 360 and why the “Red Rings of Death” are something I pray for every night before I sleep.

1. During an argument about the lack of attention I was getting not too long ago I was told that he liked his XBOX more than me because it didn’t talk back.

2. When we moved into our new house one of his gamer buddies on XBOX live had bought a new 50 some odd inch TV.  So he, of course, had to have a bigger TV. There is now a 70 some odd inch covering an entire wall in my living room.  I have to rearrange furniture around the TV because it “cannot be moved” since where it sets it has direct hook up to the internet.  I am told this ensures that he has the best connection possible for online game play.

3. Most evenings when he’s playing he is online with his buddies.  He talks away, laughs, sometimes giggles (extremely awkward to listen to knowing he’s talking with other guys), screams, curses, yells and occasionally cries I think.  Sometimes he gets really testy with me because he’ll carry on a whole one-sided conversation with me and I won’t even know it.  Then I have to deal with why-aren’t-you-listening-to-me-aren’t-I-more-important-than-what-you-are-doing boyfriend.  I do NOT like this boyfriend.

4. I used to dream of wonderful things.  I used to dream of quiet little farm houses that I had seen in magazines or my children laughing and giggling as we ran through rolling fields of wild flowers.  Now I dream I’m stuck in the middle of a war zone.  Enemy reaper airplanes raining down missiles all around me.  My teammates being shot down systematically by the fags on the other team.  I also dream about running around looking desperately for whatever building my dying teammates are saying those faggots are in but never finding it.

5. In the almost 5 years that my boyfriend has been playing online he has made numerous friends.  There are a few that he plays with constantly though.  I worry about his choice in friends mainly for their obvious lack of actual in the flesh face to face socializing.  They all seem to be online all the time… do these people even work?!?!?!?  And when my boyfriend isn’t online they call him or text him and tell him to get his ass in the game.  We can’t even watch something on Netflix because of all the messages.

6. A few years ago I decided that I wanted us to take a little trip for just the two of us.  We decided to go to Arkansas as my sister had just moved there and we wanted to check out an awesome bed and breakfast I had heard of.  This was to be our first trip as a couple and no kids!  I was so excited and began the planning.  It didn’t take long before he realized one of his XBOX buddies lived in Arkansas and suddenly our trip was solely focused on going to see said buddy and nothing else.  Needless to say we did not go on that trip and have never taken one in the almost 5 years we’ve been together.

7. If he is playing XBOX I might as well forget any form of affection.  Ok, lets be honest I can forget about having sex.  One time I was feeling extraordinarily frisky but he was playing his XBOX.  I got myself all gussied up and walked through the living room 12 times naked flashing him my brightest smile.  He didn’t even notice.  He only noticed that I was walking in front of him and “getting him killed” and was told to stop.  I really want to tell him to screw his XBOX console sometimes.

8. When he has to run to Quick Trip for more Red Bull or cigarettes he will make me play for him so he doesn’t get kicked out of a game with his friends.  I always die and have the worst hand eye coordination known to man.  When he returns he never asks if I had fun.  He only wants to know how many times I got him killed.  Maybe I should buy a gun in real life… work on my hand eye coordination…

9. Our house is an XBOX only house.  No “Gaystations” allowed.  In fact please don’t even mutter the word on our property or we’ll all have to endure the heated discussion that will follow.  It’s a long, drawn out and boring speech that NO ONE here wants to have to live through ever again.

10. Both my boyfriend and myself smoke CIGARETTES.  We don’t smoke inside because we both hate the way people who smoke inside their houses house smell… if that made a damn bit of sense… I’ve always kind of loved our little smoke breaks.  We would talk and laugh and it’s a few minutes here and there with no kids that we can just be together. Then the TV happened.  He will stand outside on the patio and turn the TV up really loud and play his damn MW3 or whatever game from the PATIO!!!!  Which leaves me to sit in awkward silence listening to him have a conversation with the people talking to him in his ear bud (because of course he has the COD headset – because it doesn’t leave that weird line on top of his head on his hair.) and trust me not a damn bit of it ever makes sense.

Watch my baby for free and let me bitch at you or I’ll tell mom…

My youngest sister had her first child October 10, 2011 (which, unrelated to this post, is also my boyfriend’s birthday).  The second of us five siblings to embark on the wondrous journey called parenthood.  I became an aunt for the first time and was overjoyed to spoil him and send him home. I agreed long before the bundle of joy came to be the designated babysitter for her.  This agreement was made under the conditions that I could take him down to my parents by 8:30 pm when I watched him and that she would begin paying me after she had gotten back on her feet financially.

I love that little monkey.  He’s the cutest baby ever…. except when he screams… which is almost constantly… cause Mommy always holds him… ALWAYS.  I’m not a baby holder.  When I had my kids I always made sure to not hold them all the time and guess what?  They all survived infancy.  Imagine that.  I talked with her about how important it was for him to learn now, in his infancy, to self sooth and interact with his surroundings.  She, however, thinks it’s a sin to let him fuss.  I should probably chalk this all up to her being a new mom I know but when two experienced mothers ( myself and my mom) are telling her she’s going to regret what she’s doing and put the damn kid down and she won’t listen, well, then it’s all on her.  I get that no one likes being told how to do something, specially a new mom, but come on already!!!

I also hardly ever get a chance to leave my house.  No I’m not exaggerating about this.  Lately, i.e. in the last month, I have left my house twice.  Once the other night to shop with my 9 year old for clothes and yesterday.  Yesterday is when the earth opened up and Hell vomited itself up from the depths of it’s dark and gloomy home and splashed all over my joyous day.  I had made a hair appointment to get a color and trim.  I haven’t had my hair done in 3 months and as any woman with short hair will tell you that’s not a good thing.  My hair had started to resemble, well, nothing really.  It was horrible which made me feel horrible and the fact that all my shiny silver and gray hair was displaying itself proudly like it had just won king of the “hill” formerly known as Amanda’s head was defeating.  I hate being defeated.  Anyways, I woke up totally excited that I was going to do something for me.  Something just for me.  Something which didn’t involve my kids or my boyfriend.  I had made my appointment when my sister had come down to drop the baby off earlier this week to make sure she was ok with the day and time and so that she could ask mom to watch him if, by chance, my appointment ran long.  Everything was in place.  I was going to war.  The gray and silver hairs days were numbered.  I could already taste the victory!

So I woke up yesterday in heaven.  Everything seemed perfect… my bed, pillows and blanket were like soft, fluffy clouds.  My boyfriend was transformed into this glorious and angelic like creature.  When he smiled my heart wooed.  The coffee pot perked even faster as if to say it knew the importance of this day and that it was fueling a victor for the impending battle.  When I woke the kids for school they were all smiles and happy.  Not even satan himself could have forced them to be grouchy or have a melt down about that one section of hair that wouldn’t lay right.  Everyone seemed to have the perfect clothes to wear and breakfast went by without a hitch.  I was ready for my appointment in record time and when my mom came to pick me up even she was smiling.  When I closed the car door I swear I could hear cries of defeat coming from my foes.  Yes, my ruthless enemy, time to be banished.

My appointment went well as it always does but Amber was running a tad bit behind.  I didn’t even think about worrying about it though.  My sister knew that this could happen and was informed to make a back up plan in case it did.  I was reveling in my me time that was 3 long months in the making.  I was so over joyed when finished I tipped her $25.  It’s like when that cute waiter flirts with you and you know you can’t have him but damn he made you feel so good about yourself you just can’t help but lay a big fat tip on the table to say thank you… yeah, it was like that.

Mom had to leave and get Mason during the last 15 minutes of my appointment.  I was elated that my sister had listened to me and made arrangements!  Now that my hair was looking sexy all I had to do was pay the cable bill and take my mom and my son out to lunch ( Yes, my 11 year old was suspended and had to come along but I didn’t let that dampen my joy).  Then it happened.

As I was shutting the car door and about to tell my mom how fantastic I felt that everything was going so well she opened her mouth.  I swear I could actually see the fire and brimstone cascading out of her mouth devouring every good thing that had happened today in it’s way.  In about 2 minutes my mother was able to completely ruin my joy and practically bring me to tears.  Why you ask?  Because my wonderful little sister DIDN”T make a back up plan.  She did, however, call my mom and chew her ear about me not being home and that she might be late to work, etc, etc.  When I tried to tell mom that Faith was made aware of the appointment and that I had actually made the appointment with her in my physical presence to make sure everything was ok I was told that I was selfish, irresponsible and that not everything was about me.  Cue tears, anger and a general feeling of guilt for doing something for myself.

When my sister came to get her perfect little bundle of joy an hour and a half after her place of employment closes ( as is her usual custom) I informed her that how she dealt with the day was totally inappropriate.  I had been chewed out by her numerous times since I had started watching her son for things that didn’t have anything to do with me and I had held my tongue.  My boyfriend and I stayed up later and later every week as she seemed to take more and more grace about getting her son after work.  This might not have been such a big deal but we both get up at 3 am.  I don’t necessarily have to do so but it’s the only “alone” time that we get (my family refuses to watch my kids so we can do anything together).  He doesn’t go to bed before me because we made a promise to always go to bed together and after almost 5 years we’ve never done differently.  It’s our “thing” I suppose.  This was the reason for wanting to take the baby to my parents in the beginning (which was quickly done away with by my parents and no other plans made).  She of course made numerous excuses for everything I said and finally said she would be finding a new sitter.  Then she stared at me for 5 minutes.  I think she was hoping that I would be guilted into saying that she shouldn’t I would watch him and so sorry for being unreasonable but I didn’t.  I stared blankly back.  She huffed out the door with her perfect bundle of joy in his big cumbersome car seat exclaiming for me, my neighbors and half the city that mom would hear about this and that she was not happy with me… and I thought as I stood at the front door and watched her walk to her car…

“Damn that’s a deep hole. You look stuck. How did you get in there? What? You dug it? Oh. Sucks to be you.”

Perfect little bundle of joy

Feathers and Fluff

Last night I took my “normal, happy, well-adjusted” 9 year old daughter clothes shopping.  She has been blessed with my side of the families well rounded rump and that rump was out growing her pants at an alarming rate.  She also seems to be going through a second toddler stage since all of her pants seem to have holes in the knees.  It’s either that or there is a troll living in her closet gnawing on them every night.  My guess is she’d go with the troll story if given the chance.

While we were at the store I was standing outside of the dressing room because my “OMG mom I’m not a baby!  I can do this by myself” 9 going on 18 year old daughter needed privacy.  As I was standing there I was watching my fellow shoppers.  I am the worst people watching addict EVER.  So in between outfits I was getting my fix.  This was my first time out of the house in about 2 weeks so I was soaking up all that I could.  I happened to notice a mom with an older boy and a girl about my daughters age.  They didn’t look like they really cared to take care of themselves and I immediately found myself in an arguement with myself about whether or not it was wrong of me to think that about complete strangers.  I can’t recall off hand who won that argument.  The next thing I know this mom is giving me the meanest look I have ever seen.  My mother’s voice rung in my ears, “You’re face is going to stick like that!”

Anna, my 9 going on 18 year old, being perfect as always

I’m not a look away kind of person so I gave her the left-eyebrow-raised look.  This is the “don’t look at me like you know me” look.  The one that usually makes the other person look away quickly because they now think you’re carrying a hand gun.  The mom went on about her business and I did as well.  I told Dave about this whole theatrical display of feathers and fluff when I got home.  He insists that I read too much in to too little.  He never takes my side!  Even in these stupid little things.  He’s an ass though so what does he know about feathers and fluff… right?

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