mother of the year continues to elude

mother of the year continues to elude

I was so thrilled my in-laws requested a sleepover with Rio starting this afternoon, with a brunch in Ct on Saturday for pick-up. But. My father-in-law is sick. Sick enough to have a doctor's appointment today. Do I feel bad for him? Hell, no! Instead of working in blissful silence, and not leaving the house except for a planned movie night out of the house in the theatre with real loud noise and greasy popcorn.... instead of all that I get to keep on keeping on with Mom duties.

By 6:45 tomorrow I must prepare a cultural dish and flags that represent Rio's heritage. Namely:

*Lithuanian
*Irish
*English
*Scottish
*Welsh
*Dutch
*Spanish
*Mexican
*Native American
*French

I'm thinking of bringing a ratty afghan that's made with all the crazy colors. Oh, and maybe some Taco Bell, potato chips, and blood sausage shishkabobs. Sprinkled with peyote, mais oui.

That kid is lucky she's not polka-dotted, she's such a mutt.

reason #4,116,711 i'm buring in hell

reason #4,116,711 i'm buring in hell

This morning, on the way back from dropping the Princess of Lip at school, I heard an NPR bit on the upcoming 'Miss Landmine Pageant' and I did not have one single thought that was mildly acceptable. When I get on overload I get inappropriate jokes flying through my brain. I'm the worst at funerals ...

The reality is one of those things that is at once so beautiful it restores your faith in humankind while it speaks loudly and clearly to the evil that lurks.

Watch that stupid Hater Mills-McCartney try to get in on it ...

crazy

crazy

Yeah. She got me on the telephone today. My mother. She calls and then fakes like she was asleep. It is soooo fun.

Today's nuggets? In the space of one conversation she shared that she now has fibromayalgia, a bean-sized dark spot on her brain that is a stroke, more work than she can handle, no money, and the best stress test her doctor has ever seen.

Oh, and she smokes and eats a stick of butter and two meats with every meal including breakfast.

Baby switches happened a lot more in the 60's, right?

really? REALLY?

really? REALLY?

There are things for which you try to prepare. You take phone calls at 2 am, and talk for hours. You touch base with experts so you have good information to share. You feel thankful for the deep and lasting friendships that have graced your life. You consider your own mortality which ironically makes the day a little sweeter. You think about upcoming appointments and know what can be canceled or moved. You are ready.

The test results should be in. You know they're going to see the doctor this morning, you just don't know how long it will take. Should you call? Or just wait. Prepared. Ready to take the hit and start moving.

Then she calls.

"It's nothing!" she screams.

You are speechless. You are not prepared for this. But as joy shoves despair to the ground and steps on its face, the relief starts to bloom and you become acquainted with the taste of fear as it flees. She's fine. It's nothing.

Really.

party on, dudes

party on, dudes

There are thousands of moments that drive home how different things are now. None more than parties.

Parties used to be full day affairs. A sample 'big party' day, in olden times aka my misspent youth, aka 'the 80's'....

*10:00 - roll out of bed. look at boy. giggle a little. call girlfriends to meet for breakfast. don't wake boy.

*10:30 - make fun of boy. give boy a nickname. use it in front of him. order greasy eggs, potatoes, milkshake. eat it all, blissfully unaware of transfats.

*12:00 - leave breakfast joint. stop for slut-butts, aka marlboro lights. go to friend's house for sun bathing; nude and PABA-free.

*12:03 - decide champagne will help with hangover. drink 3 bottles.

*2:00 - 4:00 - nap.

*4:00 - back to my house to try on 114 outfits. try to decide between boobies hanging out and ass hanging out.

*5:00 - begin makeup prep. eyelashes, hair, and the ever critical layering of 8 lipsticks/glosses/pencils to achieve that 'just so' kisser.

*7:00 - makeup continues. start taking Advil because the shoes that accompany the ass hanging out dress neeeeed to be 4 inch stilettos. they will hurt. Advil is a brilliant preemptive strike.

*7-9:30 - continue with finishing touches, smack talking, and television watching. take time out to discuss how exactly inflation works. no kidding. and maybe how to identify actual social change. vow to leave the planet better than how you found it.

*9:30 - put bottles in recycling. giggle at how tossing bottles in your recycling bin sounds just like tossing them in the dumpster behind the club. wave to neighbor lady who always shakes her head at you.

*10:00 - go to starter club before party. have dinner. dinner = olives.

*11:00 - arrive at party. do damage to your internal organs that won't be felt until your 40s which are soooooo far away! hahaha! booze AND Advil. hahahaha. this cheese plate looks fabulous. i'll eat it all! hahahhaa. sleep? who sleeps? hahahahaha. have fabulous time.

cut to today

*8:00 - monkey crawls into your bed. snuggle, then get her breakfast.

*9:00 - explain 18 ways why she can NOT open the present for Anna.

*9:30 - explain why it's not grown-up Anna's birthday and why she still can't open little Anna's' birthday present. explain why grown-up Anna can't open little Anna's present.

*10:00-10:30 - explain why she can't wear your big girl shoes to the party. explain why she can't wear dark lipstick to the party. explain why she can't bring the dog. explain why she isn't having a birthday today. explain why she goes to a different school now. explain why she STILL CAN'T OPEN LITTLE ANNA'S PRESENT!

*10:30 - get in car and go to Paint-n-Party. have fabulous time.

SNL skit idea

SNL skit idea

Scene opens. Elliot Spitzer is standing with his wife, in front of a fireplace. Dramatic theme music. The lights come up slowly. Client 9, aka Huggy Bear, aka Governor Spitzer is looking directly into camera.

spitzer: I .... did NOT .... get a chance .... to have sex ... with that woman..........

i'll give you something to be disappointed about...

i'll give you something to be disappointed about...

Her sick day consists of:
*breakfast
*laying around saying, "I feel cruddy," for 3 hours.
*watching television
*art projects
*lunch
*nap
*play with dad, who gets home about when she gets up from her nap, thank you very much daylight savings time...

Yesterday she had him drag out blocks and the marble run. No ordinary marble run, this one makes towers that parking garage people study for maximum storage capacity ...

bear: Okay, Rio. Dinner's ready. Let's clean up.

rio: [terrific snort] Uh, you do it.

bear: Hey buddy. We all clean up.

rio: I don't clean up. You can do it allllll by yourrrrselllllf.

bear: Okay, I'll do the blocks and you can clean up the marbles.

rio: C'mon Daddy. I'm really disappointed in you. [and walks out of the playroom]

In my defense, I never ever say that to her. Ever. I don't know where she picks this shit up, but it's like she picks up messages from airwaves and saves the shticky bits for mom and dad. Oh, the perks of this job.

*that's* the way it's done, President Clinton

*that's* the way it's done, President Clinton

Looks like Elliot Spitzer got caught with his expensive trousers heading for his ankles. Now, everyone makes mistakes. There are a lot of men trying to get a little on the side. Is that a crime? Well, nevermind. What inspires me about this particular incident is how well he's handling it. It *is* a private matter. If Bill had said the exact same thing in 1998, his presidency wouldn't have ended in the legal nighmare that ensued.

Private matter. Duh.

Now, what would YOU do? Seriously? I didn't marry til, um, lateRRR in life. I clearly remember a conversation I had while working at the Spa at Topnotch. I asked a woman if she would leave her husband if she found him cheating. That was not the first question, you'll be happy to know :) But what she said has stayed with me always.

"It depends. Is he getting a hummer from a call girl? Or is he having an affair with his assistant? They are not the same thing. We have a business; a family; kids; a life. You'll see, it's not always simple."

Simple? SIMPLE??!! Send your warm thoughts to Silda. This can't be easy for her. And it does land on her head, no? Man, was simple ever part of the deal?

sniff

sniff

She's finally fallen to the cold of the season. She's been remarkably disease free, even when every person we come into contact with has played bug-host at least once this season. I don't credit it to anything but dumb luck. She isn't hot on hand-washing. She still sucks those fingers. We're not shut-ins ... but we've all managed to duck the crud.

No longer. Poor kid is a snotty mess. So, we rest. I'm set up to work in the dining room so I can watch her play and lay. Lots of Clifford, lots of 'I feel cruddy', lots of Charlotte's Web. Lots of the Web....

Here's the question: I've watched it a ton of times, and heard it even more. So why is it that when Charlotte stays behind at the fair to die, I cry? Every time?

*sniff*

careful what you wish for!

careful what you wish for!

The new job is going great guns. I love learning new things and the actual process changes every day so I remain engaged instead of playing online Jeopardy at the same time. [Do they MAKE avatars without giant tits?] So, it's great but I've been ridiculously busy. I signed up for 20 hours a week, and as of 11pm I was at 23 so in theory I'm free til next week. In practice I have miles of internet to cruise before I rest. But! We're taking the morning out to go ride a carousel because I miss my kid!

Every morning Rio climbs into bed with us - my side only. The very first thing I hear every morning is, "Scoot over. I want to snuggle in," and then she sidles up against me until we're better sealed than a scuba mask. It's so great. Well, you know how I was all worried cuz she did everything so late? Walking, talking, all that jazz? Shows what I know. This morning the snarky-teasing-nya-nya gene kicked in.

Bear came flying out of the bathroom to grab undies and get dressed. He was running late, you all will be shocked to know ... but I digress. Rio takes one look at him, pops the fingers out of her mouth, and sings:

Daddy's got a naked butt. Daddy's got a naked butt. Daddy's got a naked butt.

She has arrived.

i really hate it when...

i really hate it when...

... something so huge happens, and it's amazing and completely wild, and it is way beyond inappropriate to blog about. I feel thwarted today.

On another note, Rio and I have enjoyed our 2-weeks-of-nothing-to-do together. She's definitely ready for school, and I'd like to start smoking cigarettes again.