Letter to a Low Life...

Bite me, young Asswipe, that ransacked my car last night.

I forgot to lock the van when I got home because I had to carry a squirming 2 year old, a mom-purse, lunch box, and 2 bags from Office Max into the house. Actually, I remembered to lock it then (with my thumb on the magic key button which was threaded thru the handles of the lunch box & Office Max bags) - miracle of all miracles. But when I got to the house there was a package. I unpacked the box & realized it was for a co-worker. So, being the ubber-organized working mother that I am, (pfft!!) I carried it out to the van so as not to forget it in the morning. That's when I remembered to get the mail - but forgot to re-lock the car. Blast me!

So this morning I opened my car door only to find my coupons hanging out of my coupon file and spread across my front seat. My ashtray devoid of change. My center console opened and violated. Various trash shrapnel scattered across the floorboards. And my blue tooth missing.

My blue tooth!!! I don't know how I'll manage! Don't you know that without the code to program into your cell phone the damn thing is worthless??? I hope you choke on the $2.63 (mostly in pennies) you got from the ashtray. I also hope the blue tooth battery begins leaking & drips battery acid into your ear canal. Karma will get you, Jerk Off!

If my children EVER say something like that...

Is it just me or does Ann Coulter need to be taught some manners?

I try not to discuss politics in public forums - watercooler talk aside (because everyone knows that while one is being paid to work is a fine time to define one's political beliefs based on the opposing views of disagreeable co-workers). That being said, what the hell is the matter with Ann Coulter? Didn't anybody ever tell her it was impolite to wish someone dead? I mean, really.

Sure, call them a faggot. Accuse them of using their childs untimely death to further their political career. Then, just wish they'd been killed in a terrorist attack. Sounds pretty reasonable to me.

I know politics is a dirty business. I'm pretty suspicious of most people who choose to enter politics anyway. I figure there really must be a fundamental flaw in a politician's make up if they've managed to get anywhere in public office (like chronic liar or thief or something equally unsavory offset by antichrist-like charisma). That's why, for the most part, I try to ignore all the mud-slinging that goes along with it. But this woman has sunk to a new low.

I am profoundly offended at Ann Coulter's comments. Whether she disagrees with John Edward's politics or not, her hateful comments harken back to the very roots of 9/11. Wishing someone dead... worse, wishing someone had "died in a terrorist attack." Is there any worse thing to wish on someone... and not just that someone but his whole family? Truely, I'm sickened.

And for the Edward's stand on the situation... I applaud it. Elizabeth Edwards' reaction as a mother was completely appropriate. Were Ann Coulter a school mate of my son, I would have called her mother immediately. Eh, but then again, I'm sure she learned that behavior somewhere.

Wanted: Loving Family

I am haunted. I post on a yahoo group for parents of blind and visually impaired kids. One of them must have an affiliation with Rainbowkids because they posted a link to this adorable little boy that needs a loving home.

JW is 2.5 years old and has congenital glaucoma. He's blind. Ugh. When I imagine my own sweet D being raised in a rehabilitation facility (I don't even know what that means in the part of the world that JW comes from) I have to fight back the tears. To be all alone in a world that you can't see. No single person to call your own - no one that you know will love you no matter your flaw - that will be there for you regardless. To have to vie for the attentions of a room mother with who knows how many other children. It just breaks my heart.

Little JW only speaks about 5 words with meaning. My D, 6 months younger, probably speaks over 70 (I wrote down 67 in just 2 minutes of thinking). I can't help but wonder if little JW is so much less verbal because he doesn't get talked to all that much. How lonely for him.

I look around our house at the chest and many, many baskets of toys picked out to offer D the most stimulation possible... puzzles that make noise when you put the piece in, books that sing songs, electronic alphabet toys of every shape & size, toys with different textures, vehicles of all sorts to encourage mobility, a trampoline and a crib - both for jumping pleasure.... and braille books by the dozens, not to mention books on cd... Well. I feel both grateful and undeserving.

Why is our D, by benefit of birth country and parentage, being given such an advantage over JW? I cringe when I think of where JW will be in 20 years if he is not adopted. I long to adopt him myself. I've not been able to stop thinking about him. My arms ache to hold him with love and show him everything the world has to offer. I long to give D a brother that will always have a bond with him no one else will understand. I just don't think that the fragile tranquility of my house could withstand another major storm right now. I guess I've finally found something that I really resent about having cancer.

Kudos, Mystery Blogger

Thank you, some person in Blogland that I can't remember because I am a blog-slut. I read your blog, saw your pictures and was bowled over by the obviousness of your ingenuity. I have you, Mystery Blogger to thank for this.

It's a dog collar / toddler belt / Indian headband. And every time I try to put it on D, it makes that jingly dog-collar-being-attached-to-leash noise which makes him call out for "No-men-o" (translate to "Romeo"), the contractors dog. He is a very smart boy and will undoubtedly be in therapy for being forced to wear doggie accessories when young.

Aaaaack!

This is what my oldest boy used to look like.

After 2 days at Nana's house he looks like this.

Dad is gonna canip!!

Just Because

Because I love my husband more than life itself. Because he is such an awesome Daddy. Because he tries his best every day to give our boys what they need in life. Because we both fail sometimes, the boys and each other. Because I am so lucky to not be a single Mom - doing it all alone. Because I don't say often enough how much I truly appreciate and respect the father of my children. Because Father's Day is a convenient time to remind myself and the world how much women cannot - should not - do it alone. Because I have two wonderful sons and a handsome Dad to make my life and family complete...

I offer this.

See my boo boo

Folks, liposuction is brutal!!! I can't believe people volunteer - no, pay copious amounts of money, for this. Although, it really doesn't hurt like it looks like it should.

So, in case you haven't guessed, my surgery is over and I'm bruised but feeling fine. I'm pleased as punch with the new "girls". They don't have nips yet but I can wait. At least they're the same size now. Woo hoo! M hasn't seen them yet. I think he'll be impressed.

Can I just say - if anyone out there in cyberspace is considering implants - GO WITH SILICONE!!! Holy mole do they feel natural. The saline ones are pretty hard. Imagine a water balloon versus a boob-shaped stress ball. So lovin' the natural feel.



While I was off at UCLA letting Dr. F have magic marker fun on my torso here's what the boys were doing... Just look at my little Brown Berries. Don't they look like they've been sunnin' and funnin' all summer long? And here it is only mid-June.






And here's my favorite little blind boy. Just look at the way he handles his stick! Admit it... you love him too.

Livin' Life on TiVo Time

"There's never enough time to do all the nothing you want." -- Bill Watterson

TiVo is simply the greatest invention of our time. I refuse to imagine, or remember even, how unsatisfying my life was BT - Before TiVo. But along with TiVo's awesomeness - the ability to stop time not to mention an intimate knowledge of my innermost TV viewing habits comes a host of new problems.

I have developed a 4-6 hour a day TiVo habit. And that is without child interuptions. How am I supposed to work a full time job and keep up on my Season Passes??? Last night it took me forever to watch Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip. It went a little like this...

To set the scene: M is in the garage unloading his truck. D is in his crib with his Pooh on CD playing away. B is in the bathtub.

Yeah! A new Studio 60! Quickly FF thru the intro. Wait. Pause it. Damn, the phone's ringing. Ugh. So glad it's not for me! Try to hand off phone to M. Watch him mouth "Who is it? I'm in the shower." Hand him the phone anyway. Ha! I'm not his secretary. He can field his own phone calls. Now back to Studio 60. Watch the hook segment at the begining of the show. The stage is set for Tom's brother in Iraq to be in trouble. Begin FFing thru next set of commercials. B comes out of the bathroom naked looking for pajamas. Errr. PJs are in the dryer. Pause, again. Run to dryer to get clothes. Head off whining about how he wants short pjs so he won't be hot. Promise he can sleep in whatever he wants. Sprint back to the living room to finish my show before M comes back in. Hit play. Oh no! There's still 42 minutes left. I'll never get that finished before he's back! I better watch fast. Watch next segment with only a minor interuption to get B his dessert. FF thru another commercial block then pause yet again to silence bouncing, jumping toddler in crib. Bottle applied, Pooh turned back on, kisses given. Back to my show. Sit down on couch just as I realize how thirsty I am. Walk back out to garage for bottled water. Hit play. Oh, good. It's only halfway over. Listen to Jordan tell Danny she hasn't felt the baby move in a while. Shit! It's B's bedtime. Pause for the cause. 15 minutes later B is asleep. No noise from D's room. Sweet! Tiptoe back to the livingroom. Crap! M came back in the house and is watching "Deadliest Catch". A TiVo pissing contest takes place. Somehow, I give up & go to the bedroom to finish the show. Remove contacts & put glasses on before bed. Crawl between the sheets. Sigh. Comfy bed. FF to the right part of the show. Just get back into it when D starts crying again. Ignore crying. I'm in bed. Ignore crying some more. Rewind because crying sidetracked me and I didn't catch what happened. Damn, M! Why doesn't he get D? Huff! I'll just do it myself. Pause again. Finally, slip back into bed. Push play. Blessed silence for the last 15 minutes of the program. Look at the clock. It's only been an hour and 47 minutes... good night.

All as an example of Mommy Multi-tasking for Parent Bloggers Network and Light Iris. Go check 'em out.

New Kingdoms, obsessions and thrones

When we moved into our house eight years ago (next weekend) this bathroom was in sorry, sorry shape. There were shower tiles held up by scotch tape. The shower door was crusted open about a foot & a half by hard water deposits. Because it couldn't be opened or closed there was water damage to the wall outside the shower. There was some sort of funky faux finish on the vanity that looked suspiciously like a paint thinner accident. And there was carpet on the floor. Eeeewww! It was, by far, the worst room in a neglected and dated house. As such, was virtually the last room remodeled. Only the master bath remains...

Now it's beautiful. Quite spa-like (if you're trying to fit a spa into a coat closet). All we need now is the glass wall and door so we can shower... and M can get the hell out of my bathroom.

I can't wait to have the old bath all to myself! Oh, the luxury of a dry counter top when I lean over to rinse my mouth. The storage space... the lack of tiny shaving shrapnel all over the sink. No toothbrush and paste in the shower. In short, a room with a locking door to call my own.





Balls revisited. We have given D a pit for his balls. He's discovered that the pit (pool) is mobile. Now we have a whole other ball issue in the house...











This just in: D has pooped on the potty 2.5 times now. See the precarious perch on giant adult-sized toilet? Is there anything cuter than a little naked boy sitting on a potty ("poo-tah", as D calls it)? Little does he know that this is the begining of a life-long man/toilet bond which cannot be severed. He will spend much of his quality reading time in this very spot. He will love this spot. This will be his throne. Judging from his smile... I think he sees the future and it is good.

Of Heaven and Hell

"Mothers are fonder than fathers of their children because they are more certain they are their own." --Aristotle

One week from today I will be traveling to UCLA for my almost final breast reconstruction surgery. Almost final because I won't be coming home with nipples. But I should be coming home otherwise completely reconstructed with one bright, perky silicone boob and one modified belly-boob with a lift. Ooh! And I get a second mini tummy tuck for my trouble! Somehow (blame chemo brain) I didn't realize I'd be completely cut up and catywompus again for a couple of weeks post surgery. In my defense, I was told the surgery would be "easy" and I'd only need to take the week off work. The implication was definately that I would probably, no doubt, maybe be able to care for my kids, return to work and perhaps scale a small peak within 4-7 days. The reality, according to my pre-op paperwork, is somewhat different.

No lifting more than 10 pounds for 2 weeks. No driving for 2 weeks. No driving? WTF? Plus, instead of just removing my expander and installing (is that the proper term) my silicone implant... and liposuctioning my belly-boob and puppydog ears on my tummy... they are basically re-doing the whole kit and kaboodle. They are going to re-open all original incisions. They are taking an extra inch off my tummy & giving me a nice clean scar. Dr. F will have his magical way with my now ugly belly button. Plus the whole belly-boob resizing thing. And... I have 3 and 10-day post op appointments. Which I can't drive myself to because I can't drive for 14 days. Am I the only one who thinks these little tidbits of information might have been pertinent when the surgery was being scheduled??? So, the long and the short of it is that Nana will be coming to stay next week to drive me to Los Angeles. This is convenient since she'll also be taking B to her house for a month once school is out.

One month without B. The very thought makes my head spin with possibilities. How awesome to only have one child in the house! No sibling rivalry. No personal space issues to cause yelling and screaming and crying - oh, and the kids don't like it either. No trying to plan menus that somehow incorporate protein in the shape of dinosaurs or peanuts. Copious parental sleeping-in. We will wake in the morning to birds, bunny rabbits and small deer on our lawn peering at us with gratitude that the small would-be hunter has left the land. The house can be purged of all vagrant rocks, sticks and peices of potentially useful (to a 6 year old) articles of trash. Sigh... sounds like Heaven.

But...

I am going to miss my little boy. I'm going to miss our quiet time in the morning when he squeezes his long, coltish legs and bottom onto my lap in the recliner and holds my little finger while we watch cartoons together. I'm going to miss our games of mancala and the look of naughty joy on his face when he takes my stones. Mostly, I'm going to miss the pure boyness of him. I will miss tho stories he tells me at the end of the day... about the dead fish in the bush he has made into a fort (there was worms in it, you know - eew!), about the tree he climbed so high in that he could see the ocean and Dad was waving to him from his surfboard, about the bad guys that chased he & the neighbor boy thru the jungle but they got away by riding on their elephants and hiding in their fort. I'm going to miss his smile when he waves goodbye to me in the morning. I'm going to miss the soft sound of his breathing as he drifts off to sleep at night.

Perhaps, the surgery will be the easy part.