just settling down from the day part of my day, and getting ready for the night part of my day.
dinner: kalmata hummus, black olive tortilla chips (organic!), 2 hard boiled eggs, courtesy of TJs, since i can't hard boil an egg to save my life. okay, maybe then, but not most days. washing down with fakey-fake beer, which, much like the real deal, still tastes better in a bottle than a can.
i suppose that sort of undoes the detox i'm doing this week, doesn't it? ;)
ran errands all the way home - got high-fiber cheeri*s and dried cranberries at TJs to make breakfast cookies, crickets for lizards, a small Coke-bottle shaped salt shaker for hubby (not what i went into the store for, but hey, you can't pass up a good magic prop when you see one), replaced some tupperwannabes, succumbed to the lo-fat Pringles and Dove bar on sale (dark chocolate is good for you, right?), picked up some daylilies from a neighbor to plant in my garden, went to another grocery store to get lite syrup (got sugar free) for teh cookies, and then dragged my tired ass home, to feed all the little furries and myself.
lest you think i was being wasteful with gas, btw, all the stores are within about a mile of each other, and i plan my route to make it as non-loopdeloop as possible.
and wtf with gas prices, eh? *shakes head* MedSm continues to be bullshit at me for not buying him bottled water ('but mooooommmmm does!') because i refuse to pay for something free in plastic packaging that i know he won't recycle. he may be starting to get it, tho... i pointed out that consumption of plastic and gas prices are connected (k, so, super simplified, i know, but he's 9), and he at least let up on me for the rest of the day.
i find that i'm working on being more eco-conscious, and green conscious, both in what i do/don't buy, and what happens with the packaging. i've got two recycle bins under my desk at work: paper, and non-paper. trying to buy more organic, less processed food, making good food for MedSm to take to school - he doesn't get why i don't want him eating mystery taco meat of dubious origin, or why i won't take him to the Golden Arches (have i mentioned that he has the menus of most chains memorized?) and to that i say tough snot. fast food makes me ill; doesn't mean i won't get it sometimes, but i always pay the price. his lunches are healthy sandwiches, fruit, veggies (and i do pack him something sweet, too, so i'm not a total wicked stepmother) - and he's requested pasta salad for this week, which i'm more than happy to do. i did spare him the whole wheat spirals; got him the veggie ones instead. :)
case in point on the green awareness: i was shopping for anti-wrinkle stuff the other night (despite my firm stance that one should only have to deal with acne *or* wrinkles, the arguement isn't going my way). there was a brand name on sale, one that my grandmother has used for years, and she looks danged good for 92. i picked it up to buy it, and some eye serum, and read the packaging. holy crap. despite my love for my friend and his band of the same name, i really couldn't bring myself to put a chem lab on my face. couldn't identify one damn ingredient, outside of water. so i spent about the same, not much more, to get the Burt's Bees Royal Jelly. that, i could pronounce and identify all the ingredients. and somehow, that made more sense.
back to the food thing for a minute. MedSm is very focused on his weight these days. he said to me that he's fat, needs to get rid of his love handles, has to lose weight, and has to do TaeBo every night. tell me - does that sound like a 9 yr old? and he's *not* fat. he's a good weight/height proportion for his age, and he's active - plays outside all the time, plays on a few teams, likes going out and doing stuff. i have my theories on where this is coming from, but we'll wait and see.
whoofdy. k, done for the night, will post about the Iron Works later this week.
so, am i the only person that thinks this whole "gas holiday" thing (she said, airquoting her ass off) is a bunch of bullshit? as i understand it, politicos say 'no tax on gas! whee! stimulate economy, solve problem! whee!' okay, so i'm paraphrasing. and yet, the cost of a barrel of oil is going... nowhere. or up. sooooo...cost of a gallon of gas doesn't change. now, mind you, i slept thru econ in college, but - if a retail store decides to put an item on sale, they can choose to cut overhead costs somehow, or take a hit on their profit, or otherwise accomodate the price change. the government, last time i checked, has blown thru any surplus we ever had and is now running at a 67 gumptybazillion dollar deficit. oh, and running really fucking expensive intervention for democracy war (which according to the Shrub has been a success, based on his annual statements, and was over 5 or 6 years ago). no wiggle room.
which means, in my albeit limited understanding of global economics, that we the consumer are fucked no matter which way you look at it. tax us at the pump, on our returns, cut our basic services, tax something else we need - you're gonna get our money one way or the other. the whole gas tax thing seems like a shell game, no pun intended.
MedSmall can't figure out why i start sputtering every time 'gas tax holiday' is mentioned on the radio.
he also can't understand why i won't buy him bottled water (or Gatorade, but that's a different story). he thinks i'm just a big mean cranky mommy. 'but i'm thirstyyyyyy.' yeah, and you knew you were coming to your game, and i told you to fill your waterbottle. i won't pay for something that a) should be free, b) is often available freely (his refusal to use a water bubbler is not my issue), c) contributes to landfill because he won't recycle, d) whose plastic packaging is part and parcel of (name ecological issue here - let's say global warming, shall we?), and e) did i mention should be free? he's got a choice - keep track of his water bottles and use them, or be thirsty and think i'm a meany.
Gatorade - sorry, kid. you're not doing a triathalon, i don't think it's healthy to pump your body full of electrolytes and whathaveyou when you could be drinking water (see above), which your doctor assures me is just fine for you. ;)
and i can only imagine how hard it is to be inside his head. on one side: tree-hugging liberal hippy who won't shop at WalMart. on other side: other house is Republican, military, anti-hippy, pro-government, WalMart stock holders. at least he's got a wide breadth of models to choose from. *wry grin*
spoiled, really spoiled, is how i'm feeling this morning.
did i say i got to run my weekend at my own schedule? what i should have said was that i had a schedule-less weekend. was out running errands, and thought about doing a few more, then decided i wanted ice cream, got a slushie instead (Richie's rocks), then went home. after feeding the cat (nearly got him a new food dish that says 'what part of empty don't you understand?' on the inside) and the lizards, i plunked myself on the couch. and there i stayed. :) little TV, little trashy magazine, snack, napping, more napping, watched a Marvin Gaye, napping (teh kitteh was especially happy about all that), some L&O because i love that show (and wouldn't Jesse Martin be fabulous in a Marvin Gaye biopic? i can't be the first person to think that), more napping (which i suppose at this point should be called 'sleeping')... all in all a good day. it's one of those that my hubby would call money from home.
the Marvin Gaye ep. was one of those synchronicity things, teamed with the tangential nature of teh Internets. so, it all started with a note that tanya sent, about charts. which led to browsing (oh, there's a freakin' surprise), and the grapevine, and Utoob, and really just being blown away all over again by the immense talent of Marvin Gaye, and the duet with his daughter left me in tears. someone on the American Masters ep. commented that every song Marvin touched was 'Marvinized', and that's a good thing.
oh, and by the way? this wins the prize for Stoopidest Card Yet for Mother's Day:
in case you can't read the card in the middle, it's 'For My Former Mother-in-Law'. yep.
y'know, i'm not sure it's right how much i'm enjoying this weekend.
i have the weekend mostly to myself. and not as in, doing my own thing while they do theirs. no, i really have it mostly to myself - hubby and MedSm are doing a cub scout sleepover. they left this morning. yipee!
i've been able to run the day on my own damn schedule, and it feels fine. got a haircut, bought myself a box of chocolates, a cookbook, a crappy magazine, and lunch at the sushi place in town. meandered home by way of the pet store (lizards gotta eat, no matter the day), and am now contemplating: should i watch a movie? or read a magazine? or both? and should i have chocolate while doing so? oh, and got myself a root beer slushie on the way home.
truly, i love my guys, but i'm really glad they're gone for a bit. :)
so, having calmed down a tad, i still have things to say about the Stepmom Card Debacle.
slightly more nuanced, but not much, i guess, because the wrongness of it all just irks me.
as difficult as it was for me to deal with not finding a card, at least i can put on the Big Girl Panties, put it in perspective, and move on. (having finally found an unsucky card - one, count 'em one - helped.)
but what if you're the kid? you love your stepmom or stepdad, and want to get them a special card. you go to the store, and there's bupkis to choose from. not a damn option that says 'happy day, stepmom!' what does that do to your little brain? don't tell me that on some level it doesn't fuck with them. and they have a hard enough row to hoe already, if they're a stepkid. making peace with the fact that your bioparents don't live in the same house, and did you do something to cause it, explaining over and over again to other kids that you have three or four parents... it sucks, man. no card is just a kick in the teeth, methinks.
and lest you think i'm overly sensitive about defending my role as mom, how about this: talking with a friend last night, we were discussing kids taking after us. his is a smartypants, mine is sarcastic. and he said (and i quote) 'yeah, and he's not even your kid.' not. even. my. kid. again with the biological imperative that you must be the one what birthed 'em to be a parent. and that came from someone i'd say is a friend. a hearty Fuck You for that one.
when hubby and i got together, i said that i knew he had a kid, and i'd take that as part of the package, signing up to be a parent. what i didn't know, what you can't know until you're in the situation, is that you're also signing up to deal with a whole slew of stupid people every damn day. the worst is, it occasionally comes from within the camp, as well. there are things that hubby or MedSmall say that are salt in the wound. the time that MedSmall got disciplined for screwing up (and he should have been, that's legit), and i came home to be told that 'oh, yeah, we [read: he and her, not me] talked about it, and we've decided he's grounded for the weekend.' let's take a look at that. a parenting decision was made by 'the parents'. it was on a weekend where MedSmall was with us - so Biohazard had the luxury of meting out punishment without actually doing any punishing. and it was a weekend where i was flying solo, because hubby was working. so, guess who got to be the enforcer of an agreement she didn't ask for or agree with? yup. that would be me. and i had to cancel a bunch of my own plans to do it.
now, there is the backing my spouse, and yes, it does suck to be the parent when you have to hand out consequences that also affect you - but it still needs to be done.
however. that whole thing just sucked big green donkey balls, and there was much discussion with hubby over how the Biohazard never, ever has the right to dictate how the parenting happens in our house. ever. i stated flat out that the next time i wasn't included in the loop, i wouldn't be party to the punishment. ground him again without talking to me, and then leave him with me for the weekend? fuck you. we're going to the beach and out for ice cream, and you can kiss my Irish ass.
and some days, a good 'guy with guitar' song makes it all better.
this is one of those songs that i love hearing on the radio (WERS, and thank god for them and their commercial-free oasis of musical goodness) - will blast the shit out of it, windows down, driving along the road to work, drinking my tea and looking at the trees and sun, and digging Ryan and his six string.
fact: over 1300 new stepfamilies are formed every day.
fact: it is easier to find a Mother's Day card from the cat than to find one for a stepmother.
fact: right now, i have a Big Bucket of Fuck You for American GreetingCard MegaCorp.
there are Mother's Day cards for moms, mothers, grandmothers, grammies, nanas, aunts, sisters, mother-in-laws, nieces, godmothers, like a mother, for a special person, for any mother (my especial favorite), from the cat, from the dog, from all of us, from your little guy, from your daughter, to your friend, for the wife. hell, if you're a Spanish-speaking woman of color, there are lots of cards for you!
not a damn fucking card for stepmothers. no love for the stepmoms this year.
and that just reinforces the bitter little pill that many people think that stepmothers aren't real moms. the number of times i've gotten 'oh, you're the stepmother' in that very special tone of voice - i've lost count. society seems to think that if you didn't pop out the little bugger, you don't count. not at school, not at the doctor's office, not at the ball games, not at playgroups, not when it comes to insurance. nowhere.
yes, i'm insanely fucking bitter right now. because you know what? i've mopped up vomit, taken him to the ER, nursed him thru colds and stomachaches, gone to the PTO meetings, gone to bat for him at school, talked to him about why it's not good to pick on Johnny, listened when he needed to talk about how Johnny was being mean to him, given him his allowance and helped him set up a bank account, made him clean his room, packed his lunch for school, taken him to games, been there when he has nightmares, put him in line when he needs it, praised him when he's done well, organized my schedule around him, gone to the zoo, the pool, the playground, the parades, the birthday parties, made popcorn and rented movies for family movie night, taught him to play backgammon, gotten my ass kicked at Parchesi and Othello, learned to let him make his own mistakes, talked to his teacher about grades and gotten him tutoring, showed up for talent shows...
i *dare* you to tell me i'm not a mom. *glares*
fucking card companies. they can shove it up their ass sideways.
eta: Hallmark ecards? nothing. nada, bupkiss for stepmoms. American Greeting? one phenomonally lame one that doesn't even have the word stepmom on it. go fuck yourselves, all of you moronic card writers. thanks for ignoring over half the mom population. way to go. assholes.
sunday night, late, goofing on the computer, you know the drill.
sadly, each time i use the phrase 'you know the drill', it makes me think of SailorBoy, who was (and likely is) a bit of a tool. i'm hoping to reclaim the phrase just by using it often.
question: does drinking cheap fake beer out of a can make me fake white trash?
listening to NPR this afternoon, as well as several other local noncommercial stations... NPR is a constant source of both news and amusement. for example, did you know that you can actually get Hello Kitty condoms? as adam said on wait, wait, 'gives a whole new meaning to hellloooo, kitty.' also, apparently voter registration in FL requires you to check a box stating that you're sane. forgetting to check the box is tacit admission of non compos mentos, it would seem, which led to all sorts of commentary from the wait, wait folks.
MedSmall is getting his braces on soon, so i'm planning lots of corn on the cob this week, as well as allowing him as much sticky candy and bubble gum as he can cram in his face. next two years, no crunchy/sticky, so he gets to live it up now.
i've been working on a serious sleep deficit lately, as you may have gathered from the fragmentary nature of the post so far. ;) hubby not only won't admit the severity of the snoring/sleep apnea issue, he has gone so far as to say he doesn't have a problem. see, here's the thing: it *is* an issue, and not just his. when i'm too tired to look after my kid, get to work on time, or even drive down the street? it's an issue. conversation doesn't really seem to be an option on this one, and i'm sure he won't talk to his doctor, which of course precludes going for a sleep study or getting treatment. so in the meantime, i've got a very empty bed, because hubby, when told to find a solution, has chosen the couch. >:/ i'm getting sleep, a bit, but... in the long run, that's just not gonna work.
there is so very much a reason they use sleep deprivation as a form of torture. as, apparently, is repeated playing of the Barney theme song. no joke. the military, fine upstanding organization that it is, decided to co-opt the Barney song to torture detainees.
of to dork around with gtalk, and twitter, and blogshares... because that's my downtime. :)
* cheap fake amber beer in a can. (yes, my trailer is on order.) * space heaters. * my husband. * green things coming into bloom. * fuzzy pajamas, and matching fuzzy socks. * jazz with eric in the evening. * good friends. * caffeine, especially tea. * taping shows so i can skip the commercials. * my goofy hamsters, trying to eat pea pods bigger than they are.
bonus item: hot, steaming showers and really nice soap.
(note: it's early, i'm cranky, and if you want shiny happy things, go here.)
yes, it would be self-imposed, but after attempting to get some sleep next to a mating elephant? i was thisclose to whacking hubby with a pillow this morning. only, it would have taken effort.
and i had to battle with his sleeping lumpy form last night to actually *have* sheets to crawl under.
so i am not happy, nor well-rested. and all i want is a day at the beach. one of those good, lazy, lie in the sand and listen to the waves sort of beach days.
wah wah wah. right. pity party over. busy day today, and MedSm has already started in on me about 'are we going? now? now? now? NOW?' ye gods and little fishes, some days he's more persistent than the cat (who will yow at any moving form in search of food, like he's a famine-stricken animal in search of crumbs, doesn't matter if he's just eaten).
oh man... okay, so maybe the party wasn't over just yet. ;) working on tea, thinking about a hot shower, contemplating sheep, hoping for a decent night's sleep tonight.
at least i figured out my camera charges better with the charger plugged *in*. hey, small steps, right? ;)
feeling a bit crispy around the edges this morning...
and there are never enough hours in the day, i was thinking this morning as i foraged for clean clothes. but really, it doesn't have much to do with the number of hours, does it? that's a fixed quantity. what does change is what we do with those hours. 10 lbs will never fit in a 5 lb bag. :)
so many things in my life feel like they are out of my control, or that i've lost control of them, that i take the good moments/days where i can get them.
woke up early, and reorganized the closet. we've got a long, skinny walk-in closet in our bedroom; the bedroom is on the third floor (and of course, the laundry is in the basement), and the closet is tucked in what used to be the attic eaves. hubby had the front part of the closet since we moved in (the door is on one end, and you take a sharp right inside the door to walk down the length of the closet). which was all fine and good, him having the first part, until he started taking over my part too, and leaving things stacked by the door. this all worked well for him, but not so well for me. when it got to the point that i had to hold on to the door frame to step over things, something had to give. hubby said he'd organize things, but that didn't happen. so this morning, i swapped stuff out. he now has the whole back of the closet, and my stuff is right there by the door. got a linen bin at Targè to toss my shoes in, and life is good.
got to work early, nice drive in (vacation week, so not much traffic), got stuff done, had birfday cake this afternoon, and then the fuse for our office blew. early release! i have to say, i was fairly gleeful about it - nothing like extra recess. :) bonus was, i had time to run an errand, stop by to cat sit for sis, and still make part of Medium Small's first baseball game.
heard a great story from one of my coworkers today. i'd gone to spend a little of my Targè gift card last night (have i mentioned how much i love my job? we got baskets of flowers and gift cards for admin day) and got some cute shoes - ballet flats with strips of fabric, sort of quilt-style, along the sides. coworker came up to me, and started telling me a story about his daughter meeting the Dali Lama when she was in pre-school. (yeah, i didn't see the connection either.) he asked her afterwards how it was meeting such a special person, and her four-year-old perspective was, 'he has the best party shoes!' life through the eyes of a child.
this is when you know you're a grammar geek: when you try to proofread the radio.
and i don't mean the print on a physical radio. no, proofreading what you're hearing on the radio.
driving home the other night, i heard the credits for a show on NPR. i've heard it a hundred times before, but for some reason, i caught it this time around: 'this is a co-production of Sponsor A, Company B, and Production Company C.' and i think, 'coproduction is a project for two people. if there are three, it has to be a joint production!'
...of course, in writing this up, the reference geek took over, and i looked up the prefix. the story was a lot funnier before finding that co- does mean jointly. *sheepish*
