by Mary Anne on August 24, 2008
I’ve mentioned before that I live in a neighborhood filled with lovely people…and some that are totally insane. Here, I present exhibit number one of bat shit crazy.
So I’m working one day a at home a while back and the doorbell rings. I am hesitant to answer because I look beyond hideous as I had no appointments. But…I make the mistake of answering and boy, am I sorry. Before me stands one perfectly clad, Seven Jeans wearn’, Chanel jacket sporting, war paint adorned….really angry housewife. Nothing against housewives, mind you, I was a proud member of that crowd for several years but please don’t show up on my doorstep at NINE AM looking like that with an attitude is all I’m sayin’.
She politely, yet in a firm “I’ve had enough of you” tone notifies me that I am infesting her house with rats. RATS. I ask in a very polite, “Have you forgotten your meds, hon” tone….”HUH??”. Apparently she thinks this is some type of a conspiracy here and she sighs to show her utter dismay with me. “You. Have Rats. And. They are grabbing onto the Crepe Myrtle in your back yard. And Flinging. Themselves. Into my yard.” Another sigh. Obviously I am missing something here. My house is ridiculously clean. So, I think….let’s do a little interrogation here as this chick is clearly on some shit I’d like to try.
“I’m sorry, what you are telling me is I have rats?” (Authors note: It does not help the situation that I am wearing a Mickey Mouse sweatshirt that my BFF Lisa bought me when we were 16 years old….it’s clean and it’s still in one piece and it’s comfy, shut up.) She peers at my shirt as if it is some indication of solidarity with the rat pack and says, “Yes, rats. You have rats. In YOUR HOUSE.” Ok. I’m up for some game today. So I ask, “So these rats, are coming out of my attic and flinging themselves somehow into your yard”. She has clearly had enough of my ignorance at this point, “Yes. (sigh) This is what I am saying.” I’m still not done….”So…one rat holds the branch down while the other climbs up and they fling themselves sorta ‘bombs away!’ style into your back yard? Because if this is the case, that makes them Flying Circus Rats and I’m thinkin’ we may be on to something here!!!”. She didn’t like that much. I know this because she told me in very clipped, you are White Trash tones, that perhaps my husband might like to examine the imaginary rat droppings on the fence if we cared at all. Smart girl, did not leave me room for a response there. She teetered off in her five inch heels, and was never heard from again. Years later, I still miss her. It’s not often you are greeted with so much hostility combined with a good dose of stupidity all at once so early in the day. And in full war paint? Bonus.
PS…They are called squirrels, hon, and they don’t fly…they JUMP. Jeebus.
by Mary Anne on August 22, 2008
You should know my Miss G. And I’m going to give you some insight into her mischievous soul with some emails between me and her Kindergarten teacher, who I love more than any teacher who ever drew breath because she is just that special.
The Pig Incident:
From Me:
Hi there, today in Miss G’s back pack we found an eye glasses case and two strange stuffed animals. Miss G tells me one of them was given to her by a friend, and I just have no idea where the pig came from because if I am to believe my daughter it was born last week in the playroom. You can tell by this note what kind of morning it has been.
The Penguin Incident
From Me:
So this morning, we were cleaning out Miss G’s backpack and found the following:
• La Crema vanilla yogurt
• Mandarin Oranges
• Motts Cinnamon Applesauce
• Capri Sun Juice
• Horizon Organic Chocolate milk
• Assorted spoons and forks
• ….and a small penguin
None of the food items are things we bought so I have no idea where they came from. I’m not sure what to say about the penguin other than it relieved me to see at least one item that indicated this latest adventure wasn’t all about hording food.
Wild Weekend:
From Me:
I had to share this with you….apparently Miss G is packing for some type of a wild weekend because in her little tote bag she just got with her artwork on it she had a roll of toilet paper, a knee brace and…Summer’s Eve Feminine Spray. I don’t think I want to know.
The Crayon Incident:
From the Teacher:
So…we were all sitting on the carpet today about to read a book when I noticed that Miss G was eating something. I pulled her aside and asked her to spit it put in the trash can and she wouldn’t. So we stepped outside and I asked to spit it out in my hand and she did a little bit.
Then we came into the room, she sat on the carpet, and I saw she was chomping down again on something. So I asked her to step outside of the classroom and when she was ready to spit it all out and tell me what it was she was eating she could come back in. So after I read the class a book, I went out to check on her. She finally spit it out in her hand and you will Never guess what it was…a pink crayon!!!!! SO apparently Miss G likes to eat pink crayons!! I just thought I should let you know!
My reply:
You know, this is my fault as I should have warned you. Yes, she enjoys a good crayon every now and again. I thought she had moved on to paper, which lets face it has more fiber, but we must be backtracking.
Just be glad your first experience with it wasn’t with a black crayon as mine was.
I look forward to first grade. And…I really wonder what she will pull next.
by Mary Anne on August 20, 2008
You may want to steer clear of me for a while. I would appear based on the events of the past two weeks, that I have jacked up my Karma pretty bad.
Two weeks ago, the AC went out upstairs. It’s hot here and it literally felt like we had died and gone straight to hell every time we went upstairs. We had finally gotten the kids back upstairs to sleep again but this was a setback and “Camp Mommy and Daddy Bedroom” ensued again. It’s like Camp Rock, less the cool kids singing and making a difference in their lives. It’s kind of more like Camp Suck where the children hurl insults and objects at each other until they finally pass out. Sometimes, if we get really lucky they lose their minds completely and begin to swing from the top of our four poster bed.
Last week, Miss G developed a boil. At first I thought it was a pimple. Nope, full fledged boil on the tender inside part of her leg. For two days we watched her walk around funny and we were just about to take her to the doctor to have it lanced when the issue resolved itself in the most hideous manner possible. I can’t go into details for fear the dry heaves will come back so I’ll just leave it at that. She’s all better now, and I think based on the amount of ickiness that came out of her, approximately 5 lbs lighter.
Then came the day it rained, only a few days later….in our house. I was about to get on a conference call when all of a sudden, the children were screaming (not allowed), near my office (grounds for corporal punishment). “Mommy, Mommy, Mommy!!! It’s raining in the CLOSET!!!” WTF? So I ran into the bedroom only to find The Man doing a desperate bail out of my…clothes. Screw the clothes….save the Choos! I started bailing out immediately, it was like some mad shoe dash from hell. The children were dodging stilleto’s like knives, lest one of their eyes get poked out. (Girl’s gotta have her priorities…) We got all the stuff out of the closet, our bedroom now looked like a war zone and started to drain the nasty ass water tank. Did you know greenish/black stuff comes out? Yeah, I’ll never take a shower and feel that squeaky clean feeling again for sure We snaked a hose into the tank and let it drain into the shower. Hours later after we thought the nastiness had drained, The Man took the children out of the house so I could work (best to not be around Mommy at this point who can thing of a million ways to better spend a cool 1K). I was back in my office when I heard it. RAIN. AGAIN. IN MY CLOSET. Not really, this can’t be happening. But there it was, sludgy rain coming out of the door frame. Four hours and a thousand pounds of wet towels later, it finally ended and we are now left with a wet smelly closet. At least I have the arrival of the plumbers to look forward to tomorrow. I hope they arrive with their ass cracks hanging out, otherwise, I’m totally going to feel cheated.
by Mary Anne on August 19, 2008
This entry should also be called why Martha MacCallum should never let the cameras shoot her from the backside. So here I am, mindlessly watching Fox News. Martha MacCallum is on. I’ve always been sorta jealous of her…all blonde and smart and ….well, everything. My emotions really border on hatred for her perfection. Until today. Thank you camera two. She must have really pissed this guy off because there was a good long shot of her backside…in a white suit (not good)…with a microphone wire all up in her business (not gooder). Now that I have discovered she is indeed flawed (though only slightly), I am willing to stop being a hater. Martha, you may have that well deserved sigh of relief now.
by Mary Anne on August 17, 2008
I’m was watching Miss G and two friends play Mermaid in the pool today. They were having so much fun. They pretended to swoon off the diving board, that they dwelled in a castle in the deep end of our pool, and that the water at the steps in the shallow end had magical restorative powers.
I’m not sure I’d ever want to actually be a Mermaid though the general notion, less the hard cold facts, are enticing. There’s the whole being in the water thing all the time (eh), turning into a half fish (not so much) and then when you are half fish, being unable to wear your Jimmy Choo’s or Manolo’s. (NEVER!)
Why is it that grownups can’t play those games? Or do we? The thing is, I know a lot of Mermaids, all breeds and sorts. And we all pretend it’s not going on. All of us women, we play Mermaid every day of our lives.
The neighborhood I live in, well, we are all Mermaids. Some of us are perfect Mommy Mermaids, some of us are perfect Wife Mermaids married to King Triton. (And some are a combination of the two) Some of us are Career Mermaids, trying to balance that delicate line between the aforementioned two. We all pretend to have the perfect life balance, but do we? I love the other two schools of Mermaids, I do, and sometimes I really wish I could be one of them. But…I can’t. I see them and I’m jealous. And, they see me and think I’ve got this really cool gig going on. I travel, I do things they don’t understand, they think I know more than them sometimes, and they admit it….but you know, I really don’t. Somedays, it’s all bits and bytes and none of it is going to comfort me in my old age. Sometimes I wish I could be them, even though life on that side of the sea is just not for me. I swam away from it and I was happy to do so. There are days I remember my past life as a stay at home Mommy Mermaid and wonder if I ever for one moment appreciated it for what it was. I’m not sure I did. And I hope they do. I think all of us spend our time looking at the bluer side of the sea and sometimes miss what is before our very eyes.
I look at my children differently now than I did when I was a Mommy Mermaid. My days now are spent working my proverbial Mermaid tail off sometimes to very little thanks save my paycheck. Some nights are spent working while The Man tries very hard to keep them away from me because “Mommy can’t take much more…”. I know I am missing out on some pretty important things, but what can I do? I am a Career Mermaid and there is just nothing I can do about it other than savor the moments like today. Miss G and I had a perfect day, girlfriends over on a Sunday, going to the movies, playing in the pool. Mr. C and The Man went to a baseball game and had the time of their lives despite the oppressive Texas heat. And big snuggles when we all convened at home later that night. And for one moment, I pretended to be a Mommy Mermaid, though in 12 hours reality will set in and I will be sent into my own magical pool of corporate politics and sales schmoozery to deal with. But today, I swam in a different pool, where little girls are magic, a swimming pool is an ocean and giggles can make everything better.
I guess the lesson is to swim in the sea you are swimming in while you can. You can’t swim in all the Mermaid pools all the time, but you can enjoy your visit while you are there.
