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.

hop, skip, and a jump

hop, skip, and a jump

I've referred to our house as being on the edge of the Indy 500. A bazillion commuters start zinging by at 6am. Huge trucks going way too fast. Bear, who's not big on freaking out, freaks out on me when I walk on the road for anything ... anyway, someone died in front of our house today. A trucker tipped his rig and he's under it. This saddens me in so many ways.

People, please slow down. You do want to get where you're going, yes?

my gears are grinding

my gears are grinding

We're getting into the second week of Rio refusing to answer to anything but Mater. If you ask her to do anything and say "Rio" she'll promptly say, "I'm Mater. Call me Mater." This extends to play, the telephone, and most recently - the doctor's office. We had to have something checked out so:

nurse: Hi there! You're so pretty. What's your name?

rio: Rio. R.I.O. But call me 'Mater.'

me: Rio, c'mon.

rio: [looking back at nurse] Call me 'Mater' puleeeeease.

***

This directive is so consistent that Bear and I have actually started correcting ourselves when we let "Rio" slip ...

Yesterday I was on the phone trying to have an important conversation. I was sitting on the floor and desperately trying to keep her occupied by playing 'throw-guy-in-the-air-with-this-expensive-silk-scarf' and she wandered off. She climbed up on a big, puffy green chair. She was jumping around and all of the sudden she was 'whomp!' right on her face on the floor. Carpeted, but still.

me: Jeez Rio! Are you okay?

rio: [croaks] 'Mater.'

There is no doubting her dedication. I only hope this miraculously fades before we send her to the new school next week.....

Mommies, don't let your babies grow up to be media sluts ...

Mommies, don't let your babies grow up to be media sluts ...

... at the very least, don't raise them to be such. I, for one, am saddened by Brit these days. She so obviously needs a mother to straighten her ass out, and all she has is hangers-on, cashing checks from the Bank of Brit. Her actual mother among them. And Mommy Spears was out pitching a parenting book while Brit goes crazy and 16 year-old Jamie doesn't tell her she's pregnant until there are no choices to be made besides, "I wonder who'll pay the most for the exclusive to this story"?! Spite babies are the new black. Brit, if you're reading, stay in the hospital. Yes, those people are paid to hang out with you, but at least they won't cause you continued mental damage.

Now. Lindsay Lohan is another one. Her mother seems to be at every party with her and she wonders why the kid fell into the abyss? C'mon. Kids need their parents to lay down the law, not help them to subvert it. I see this kid hitting multiple rehabs and then swilling champagne from the bottle with a look of desperation in her eye. Happy New Years. Now this.

I got 2 words for you, LiLo: sunscreen and parents. Good luck, kiddo. It would appear that no one is at the helm and there will be no joy when you run ashore.

my name is ...

my name is ...

As if I needed more reasons to curb her television consumption ... she is a big fan of the movie 'Cars.' Me, too, really. I get teary-eyed when Sally details the demise of her little town. Bear has purchased a book about Route 66 and it's on our 'to-do' list to make a long family roadtrip. So, Cars has crashed into our lives a bit.

That's all well and good, except Miss Rio calls me 'Sally' and Bear is now 'Lightning Queen [sic]' and she will only answer to 'Mader.' As in 'Tow Mater', the mildly-slow buck-tooth tow truck of the show.

She's taken this 'Mater' bit to the n^th degree lately. She won't answer to 'Rio' and she insists Bear 'talk like Lightning Queen' and she'll say 'Sally Sally Sally' until I give in and just take my new name.

Yesterday, we went to the Providence Children's Museum. It was fun, insanely packed, and just a tad exhausting. We saved the water room for last. The kids don smocks that kind of keep them dry, and then all hundreds of little people run around huge suspended pools and splash and generally revel in the insanity while the parents either A. act responsibly and keep their kids upright, not throwing, not splashing others in the face or B. chat with the other parents who believe that kids should fall all over, throw heavy things at everyone, and dump water on the heads of children they don't know ... but I digress.

I tell Rio it's almost time to go. When the big hand hits the 11 we're going to pack up and head for lunch. At the appointed time she becomes the yelling child. I look at Bear and tell him to just pick her up as I strip the soaked smock off and we head out of the crazy room.

rio: [still screaming] I WANNA STAY! I DON'T WANNA GOOOOOOOO! PUT ME DOWWWWWWWNNNNNNN!

me: Rio. I told you it was time to go. You're behaving poorly which is not cool. We're going to have a nice lunch and we will visit here again.

rio: [goes limp in Bear's arms]

me: Okay then. Are you ready for lunch?

rio: [no response. still limp. head hangs]

me: Bear, just put her down. She can walk it off.


rio: [walking in a catatonic-like state, arms hanging straight down]

me: Nice job calming down buddy. Now, let's go have a delicious lunch. Would you like some miso soup?

rio: [with a completely flat affect, eyes all cartoon spirals] Call.Me.Mader.


Yeah, cuz I was such an effing huge Disney fan already ...

master of all she surveys

master of all she surveys

Bear was yelling "Schnoogs!" at her and chasing her to tickle her. They did one lap, two laps, and on the third she starting saying, "No tickles! No schnoogs!" but Bear kept chasing her. She just came to a halt, turned to him, pointed her wand at him and said, "Hey! Knock it off!"

I'm pretty sure the wand is the source of her power. If only I can get it away from her...

where have you been?

where have you been?

I've been busy! I got the job. Twenty hours a week from home doing research. It's fun, interesting, and it actually pays. So, get ready playgroup - it's only a matter of time before I find Manolos that can hang with toddlers ....

Anyway, today I received an email proudly sponsored by Scholastic. The inbox title:

Your Soooo Missing Out

Is it just me or does stuff like that make you crazy? Sponsored by Scholastic, no less. They must be so proud ...

Speaking of crazy, if you know the woman who drives the giant SUV with the Mass plate 'TANKA', bitch-slap her for me, wouldya? I was at BJs and it was freezing rain. Their cart system isn't the best - you really have to grab one in the myriad of covered shelters in the parking lot. So, she unloads her groceries and pushes the cart so it's evenly encroaching in the crux of four parking spots. I catch her eye and point to the cart shed that is literally 10 feet from her battleship. She ignores me, gets in her car, puts on lipgloss, backs out and then gives me the finger. So, yeah, bitch-slap her and pull her hair, okay? It's a good thing I don't have access to motor vehicle info or I'd totally abuse it to write people letters explaining why everyone loathes them.

What else? Not much really. We've been painting and doing some projects. We still have that dumpster. Bear still hasn't cleared the garage or basement. What's a woman to do?

Rio spent 4 days/3 nights with my inlaws. No one cried. Everyone was exhausted and lots of fun was had by all. She's really in such an amazing place. She now has the verbal skills to make me insane and she presents new and interesting challenges every day, and I can't imagine loving her more. This rocks.

We're sending her to a Montessori program T-Th starting in March. She's ready for more than play. She's writing her name and she's always asking how to spell things. You know, like everyone says, 'She's very advanced for her age.' But we think it will be a good atmosphere for her and it's super close to the house so I could get right back into bed. Ha.

I got a CD from another blogger and haven't had a minute to listen to it. I did move it to the car so that's hopeful. I'm also making jewelry which is fun. I'm sending him something and I'll post a picture when it's done. I swear. OH! And then I'll do a contest. Yay! Right now I have to participate in The Great Interview Experiment because I signed up for it before I suddenly got stupid busy. And I hate to break commitments. I'm like Britney that way ...

So, in the very near future: picture of the necklace I send to him, my interview with her, and whatever else I've been promising. Oh! And one more fun thing. I've signed up for a trainer at the gym. I share him with a friend who used to be competitive skater. Luckily, she's in such great shape that when I ducked into the bathroom to lay down on the floor and pray about not puking, he didn't notice. I am stupid.

xxx

Giants 24 - Patriots 20

Giants 24 - Patriots 20

You heard it here first.

:)

proper attire

proper attire

So. I have an interview tomorrow. The position is one where I can telecommute after training. 'Perfect for stay-at-homes' is in the description.

Does that mean that I can wear sweatpants and a NEW YORK GIANTS hat to the interview?

motherless

motherless

There are times when it sneaks up on you - your motherless status. Everything is singing along and then you realize that somehow you've gotten to 30 thousand feet and you look down to realize you're flying at the same moment you realize it's impossible. 'Help!', you think. But there is no one there for you.

***

I have cultivated mothers. Mostly by accident. Serendipitous women that have come along and helped smooth the rough hole. Some old, some young, all wonderous bricks in the 'me' I've had to build. You all know who you are and you know I'm thankful.

***

So my darling friend calls me today. Her babe is really sick. She is, too, but that almost is beside the point. She has to make the call about calling the doctor and perhaps a trip to the ER. The nurse gets back to her, is noncommittal, and so my darling friend has to make the decision. She has to make the decision.

We speak. She carefully weighs the facts, the numbers, her feelings, the distress which cannot be voiced by her babe - and decides to head into the Emergency Room.

I tell her it's exactly what I would do. She is thankful to me for saying so. She wasn't sure she was right. Was she overreacting? Should she wait? Should she have waited so long? ... She is comforted knowing I would do the same thing. We tend to validate one another's instincts. Because we're both motherless.

***

You're singing along, 30 thousand feet, and you wonder how it is all possible. It probably isn't possible but somehow, together, we make it through.