Friday, May 29, 2009

How To Keep a Secret

The Boy has suuuuuuuuuuucks at keeping secrets. I'm so sorry love, but it's true. Until this year, I don't think he even grasped the concept of surprise, as evidenced by a few Christmases ago when I got The Man something Star Wars related, showed The Boy and said, "Don't tell Daddy, it's a surprise." And he said, "Okay!" And then immediately ran upstairs and told his dad exactly what I had gotten him.

His school is planning an end of the year program, called Farewell Follies, and his class is singing a song. The song is supposed to be a secret. They have been practicing with all their heart, and I know The Boy has been trying his darnedest to keep that song a secret. He has done an excellent job so far.

The Man accidentally found out what the song was because he saw the lyrics on a sheet on one of the desks. He did not tell me what it was because I really want this to be the first true surprise that The Boy keeps. The Man is still pretending he does not know with The Boy.

On the way home from school yesterday, The Boy started singing the song in the backseat (I was not in the car at the time). The Man, recognizing the song from the lyric sheet, stopped him and said, "Is this the song from Farewell Follies?"

The Boy thinks for a moment and slowly he says, " you believe me?"

Playing along of course, The Man says yes he believes him.

Satisfied, The Boy says, "Good! Because if you didn't, you would know the song for Farewell Follies."

Close call.

Curiosity Satisfied, This Time With Less Controversy

Another time, The Boy is in the car with The Man (I feel like I'm never around for these stories. I swear I spend time with my kid), and he says, "I think Grandpa Jack is going to be the first one to die in our family."


The Man, who is in utter shock I assume, says "Why do you say that?"

The Boy replies, "Because he is the oldest."

Oh, of course. Why didn't we think of that?

The Man agrees, yes this will probably be the case.

And then, just as I'm starting to be concerned that I'm going to have to answer to a six year old about "What happens after you die?" or "Why do people die?" and other life ponderings, The Boy says:

"Okay. Can I have a snack when we get home?"

Whew! And YES YOU CAN. Have all the snacks you want!

Thursday, May 28, 2009

Curiosity Satisfied

I am constantly surprised by how curious The Boy is, and yet he is also so willing to just accept something very simple as an answer and leave it at that without further probing. Don't get me wrong, I am not just surprised, I am also very super thankful.

One example of this is the other day when The Boy said to The Man, "[Insert school friend's name here, we'll call him "J"] J said his mom told him that two boys can get married. Is that true?"

This is one of those times where your heart stops for a second and you think to yourself, "WHERE'S THE MANUAL?" And then you're like, "Oh yeah, he didn't come with one. Dangit." I still check the glove box of the car just to make sure that the manual in there is still actually a manual for the car and has not magically turned into The Manual of How to Raise Children, Complete With A Million and One Answers of The Really Hard Questions.

Obviously, there are so many more levels to this topic, but we are speaking about the mind of a child. So here are the basics: we are Christians, and The Bible speaks against homosexual behavior.

So The Man says, "Well, in some states they can, but right now, in California they cannot. But two boys being married is wrong and we know it's wrong because The Bible says so."

And HERE is where we hold our breath for a second, desperately thinking, "Is he going to accept it? Please let him accept it. Is he going to ask another question?"

To which The Boy cheerily replies, "Okay!" And that is all.


Wednesday, May 27, 2009

A Word Does Not Exist

For how hysterical this is.

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

Grief and The New Plan

The Man and I had such grand plans when we were younger. We were going to have three kids; a boy, a girl, and another boy, each three years apart. The Man and I even chose names before we were married. I was going to be a happy stay at home mom, The Man was going to own his own architecture firm, we would design our dream home and live there. Happily ever after in my own personal fairytale, complete with soundtrack and the script ready to be sold to Disney.

HI! This is reality. You can look at my website, location:, or you can e-mail me:

So what REALLY happened was this:

I was a miserable stay at home mom and was thrilled to go back to work. The Man was laid off last year and he is currently working for my dad. We live in the same crusty old condo we have lived in for seven years now.

We had one kid. One. And we were like WHAT DID WE JUST DO? Of course it's better now because The Boy can like talk and do stuff for himself and he sleeps, Dear God, Thank you for letting him sleep! But in the beginning that one kid was like a nuclear bomb on our marriage. There was no way we were going to do that again. And we were both okay with the decision. Or so I thought.

Of course I have the occasional thought of "I want another baby." Because I am a female and we are apparently programmed to think such things. These thoughts are few and far between, and I know I do not really want another baby. The thoughts quickly fade, and they only enter my head because I see a cute baby, or tiny little baby clothes.

But the strangest thing has been happening lately. It started with this girl at church. Church of all places, where I am supposed to be working on a pure heart. I don't like this girl very much, but I realize that is most likely because I am jealous that she is a happy stay at home mom. She has one boy, and she and her husband are a lovely couple, other than being super flaky, there is nothing wrong with them. They bought a house a few years ago and it looks like a Pottery Barn catalog. They don't even have mail on the counter. I'm like where's the mail? And the bills to be paid? And the stuff on the fridge? Where is it? They just seem so perfect.

We don't know this couple very well, due to the aforementioned flakiness, and a few months ago, I noticed that her stomach was growing. The heathen part of my brain was hoping she was just getting fat. It soon became very obvious that she was once again with child. All of a sudden, I was so angry. I was mad at her, this poor woman just raising a family, and probably doing it well. A few days later I found out my sister-in-law is pregnant with her first child. She wants to be a stay at home mom and I can just envision her loving it. Again, I am so enraged that I am crying uncontrollably.

Why such a severe response I am wondering? I should be HAPPY for these people! I am then overcome with guilt for my terrible thoughts, and the tears continue to flow.

I get on the phone with My Person, and she sheds some light on the situation: "When you went back to work, did you grieve that you were unable to be a stay at home mom? Did you grieve that you were not having anymore children?"

No, was my reply. I was so excited to get the heck out of the house! My heart wasn't anywhere near sadness. It was a new adventure, and The Boy and I were both ready for it.

"Well, there you go. You need to grieve about this loss, honey."

But that was over four years ago, I protest.

"Yes, but there has not been any closure in your heart. You need to grieve and be sad that your initial plan is not what is right for you and your family. And then you can move on."

So grieve I did. I went home and I cried. Per My Person's instructions, I asked The Man to please just listen to me and not offer any words of advice. He followed those directions. It's not fair, I wailed, we deserve to have those babies! We are good parents. We deserve to have the Pottery Barn house! We work so hard. I told him what was on my heart and he held me while I expressed my pain.

Although the hurt did not all go away, I so felt better. Now, a few weeks later, the pain is almost all gone. It may resurface some time in the future, at which time I will know how to deal with it (or at least know who to call).

And I am happy living in my crusty condo with my husband and my son. That's The New Plan.

Thursday, May 21, 2009

Not Good Enough

I was terribly sad the other day because I had stopped taking my anti-depressant for about three weeks, but then decided that it was in the best interest of my family to start taking it again. It makes me sad that I'm just not good enough without them. I was having more anxiety attacks, everything was screaming at me that it's not clean enough or organized enough, I was having severe mood swings, I was not sleeping as well, and I was always tired. I want to not have to need them.

Here is how the conversation goes in my head:

Voice #1: Hi.

Voice #2: How are you?

Voice #1: Good. And you?

Voice #2: I'm terribly sad today.

Voice #1: Why?

Voice #2: Because I have decided to start taking my medication again, and it makes me sad that I'm just not good enough without them.

Voice #1: Why do you think that? I think the jury is still out on the meds.

Voice #2: (insert above mentioned reasons). That's why. I want to not need them now. I want to be better than my surroundings.

Voice #1: Ahhh...there is not such thing as perfection. Come to grips with that
and things get better in a hurry. You can do your best, and that is all you can do.

Voice #2: I do know that perfection does not exist, but I still feel like a failure every time I do not attain it.

Voice #1: Then stop. Seriously. It is unhealthy.

Voice #2: I don't know how.

Voice #1: It's easy...just do your best, you know what that is, you can do no more than that. There are winners and losers in life. Winning is sweeter when you give your all, and losing is easier to take when you know that you left it all on the field of battle. You stay up at night when you give a half ass effort even if you win because you know in your heart that you could have done better.

Voice #2: So you are saying we're having trouble sleeping because I'm not putting forth my best effort?

Voice #1: No. We can't sleep because you are in love with the concept of perfection.

Voice #2: What about all of the losing sayings we like..."2nd place is first loser" and all that crap? That just reinforces what we think and that's how we were raised, you know Dad feels the same way. It's not easy to just turn that off in our head.

Voice #1: That's all bullshit.

Voice #2: Then WHY say it? There is some truth behind every joke.

Voice #1: Here is a saying for you. Bring light to the absurd by being absurd. Satire. Seriously, it is all about effort.

Voice #2: Okay. I'll try harder at being perfect at not being perfect.

Voice #1: If a person makes the effort to but their best effort forward when needed, you can't ask for anything more. Sometimes, in life, the other guy wins. Nothing is promised. We all want the outcomes to go our way. Not possible. Hence, there is no perfection.

Voice #2: Well, someone should have mentioned this all to us when we were little. I really hope we aren't screwing up The Boy this way, because it sucks.

Voice #1: We will just make sure to teach him how to lose in life as well as how to win. Then he will be fine. Losing is great; it motivates non lazy people to not want to experience it if they can avoid it. Makes them give their best. Let's see how that works.

Voice #2: Okay.

Voice #1: Things in life are not black and white. Every experience is unique
and offers new challenges and new insight.

Voice #2: Okay. I'll work on this stuff. And I'll start taking the meds. Can we have some chocolate now?

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

Walk and Chew Gum

The Boy just started being interested in chewing gum. We purchased his first pack of Juicy Fruit and he immediately requested to consume his first piece on the way home from the grocery store. Before he excitedly snatched it from my hand, we went over the ground rules of gum, namely DON'T SWALLOW IT. I think we may have scared him a little because he had the first piece in his mouth for about five seconds before he screams in a panic, "I NEED TO SPIT IT OUT!!!" I hand him a tissue, he spews out the gum, and then sighs a satisfactory sigh, as if to say, "Well, that was quite an Agreeable Experience" although I don't know for the life of me how that is possible. To each their own.

He has since mastered the gum chewing/not swallowing technique; however, is still rather enamored with this new found ability. He will say things like:

"It's been two minutes since I started chewing it."

"Want to hear a joke? I swallowed my gum!" (hysterical laughter ensues.)

The other day I gave him a piece and I promptly forgot that he had it. The Man and I were having a conversation, and all of a sudden, The Boy interrupts with, "How long has it been?"

Of course we are completely in the dark and unaware of how long it's been since any one thing in particular has happened, so we ask him what he is talking about, to which he replies, "Since I started chewing gum." As though, of course, what else would I be referring to?

We tell him we do not know, and boy are we sorry. The sighs of exasperation and complete disappointment are almost unbearable I tell you.

Note to self: start the timer the next time you give gum to The Boy.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009


I know you were worried about my brother, Lazy McSlotherson, so I thought I would give you an update. He's still out today. His wife says he "lost his voice" and also "he's not really sick." So...she is even throwing him under the bus now.

Sunday, May 17, 2009

If you have something nice to say, then don’t say anything at all.

The title is no mistake. I mean it.

I hate my brother and his wife. I know that is a really strong word, “hate” is, but right now, I do.

When they first moved here, I felt like they were mature, ready to get to work on our family’s business. We had a family meeting and I was like who is this guy and what have you done with my loser little brother? I thought, cool, maybe I can get along with this person. A grown up. After all, he is only two years younger than I, so he is actually an adult. And now it seems as though he behaves like one.

Well, it was all an act or something, because that guy is gone. And in his place is this immature, irresponsible, foolish child.

Let’s start with work. They work in the same office, and yet they IM (instant message) each other all day. He does God knows what, his desk is right in front of my dad’s so I don’t know how he does it, but I know he’s not working based on the reports I run. And he is "sick" about once a week, which is what spawned this rant in particular. The guy is a healthy young man, it is ridiculous that he is out of the office this often, and just one day and then you're better the next day, that's just ridiculous. There are two people in this office with diabetes for goodness' sakes who have more of an excuse to be gone. One time, he called in "tired." I'm like, what do you do that causes tiredness?!? You don't do anything! You don't have kids, you have no responsibility, your wife does everything for you, and you sit on your ass playing video games every evening and on weekends. How are you tired?!? I mean really, if there is an explanation, I want to know. Perhaps he needs immediate medical attention. The Boy got up six times one night a few weeks ago and The Man and I barely slept. Yet, we still managed to muster up the energy to get ready and go to work. IT'S AMAZING WE LIVED TO TELL THE STORY.

Also, I'm like 99% sure his pay is not reduced when he is gone, because if there were financial ramifications for his actions, he would stop doing whatever it was that was causing the loss of income. She spends all day on Facebook and MySpace, NOT working. She sent an “lol” laden e-mail to her high school math teacher (from her work e-mail I might add), asking him to refer her to some free math websites because she did like four Algebra equations in one minute because she “lol sits at a desk all day lol.” I sit at a desk all day, too, that doesn’t mean I don't have work to do. She has work to do. After reading that e-mail, I promptly gave her more work to do, and check in with her constantly to make sure she is actually doing it.

Side note: The girl thought that the word “closet” had an “n” in it (closent). She is not smart. And she wants to be a teacher, was going to school for it and everything before she moved here, and it didn’t sound like anyone was trying to stop her. So I don’t know what kind of four math problems she did in one minute, but I assure you, it was not Algebra.

Next up; the living situation. He and his wife moved out of my parents’ house into a three bedroom home that they rent from my parents’ neighbors, and the opportunity fell in their laps. Otherwise, I am convinced they would still be living with my parents. It’s an 1,800 square foot home. They have a mattress on the floor in their room, a couch and chair in the living room, two computers and two TVs in the living room, a table in the dining room (no chairs). The other two bedrooms and the family room sit completely empty. Which doesn’t really say much about them other than they cannot afford to furnish an entire house right now, which isn’t so bad, except for it’s annoying when people go over there and would like a place to sit and eat the food they serve without their uncontrollable dogs slobbering in my plate and eating my food.

Their two dogs rule their lives; I cannot even get into details of that right now due to the length of the stories and also that there is a chance I might explode from the severity of the frustration.

Finally, for today, the groceries. They eat garbage. They eat fast food once a day, at a minimum, and usually more. Burgers, fries, sodas, shakes. This really bothers me because those things cost more money that purchasing groceries and making meals (money topic also to be discussed at another time). And they don’t technically “cook.” They microwave frozen junk, or, my favorite, they go to Costco and get the giant can of nacho cheese and then just dip it in whatever they have lying around. And my sister-in-law, who is pregnant btw (also more on that later), refuses to eat lettuce, unless it’s deep fried with whatever she is eating with it. And her OBGYN told her specifically that she needs to eat healthier, but not to go on a diet. So she told Cupcake, “When I eat (insert some semi-healthy food here), I feel like I’m on a diet, and my doctor said not to go on a diet, so I’m not going to eat it.” I’m like, really? REALLY? You care so little about your unborn fetus that you will make any excuse to not eat anything healthy?!? She also told Cupcake, “I have a healthy breakfast today; orange soda and a banana.” Orange soda is healthy in your mind?!? Are you for real? Just because it has the word “orange” in it, does not make it healthy! If that soda were not orange in color, it would just be called Carbonated Sugar Water.


Thursday, May 14, 2009


It's no secret that I love taking pictures. I am inspired by The Boy, as well as so many photos I see on my favorite blogs. I assumed that I need a better camera in order to take pictures like those I see online. Until Tuesday, when Beth showed her readers that we too can make our sad pictures into happy pictures, and that apparently nobody's photos are posted as originally snapped. Not only was I surprised, but also relieved. This idea of photo perfection in my head can now be squashed.

Disappointment also settled in because now I don't have an excuse to buy a fancy new camera. Boo.

So Beth does a photo contest called "You Capture" and this week the topic is colors. She gave tips in an earlier post about how to enhance photos, and I have tried some of these things on the photos I am posting here. I even expressed my feelings in the comments of her blog, and she sent me the originals. Admittedly, the originals are not as bold as what ended up in her post. Having said that, I feel that my originals still don't compare to hers. Which is where the saying "Practice makes perfect" comes in.

The first is a picture of THE BOY. That's right, you're going to see The Boy. Don't stalk us and steal him, k?

I love this picture because the look on his face is of pure joy.



This next set isn't my favorite, but I tried.



Our friends' kids at The Boy's birthday party one year. She is THE cutest crier I have ever seen.



I'm not going to be commenting on the rest, here they are in all their glory.

Can you see a difference, did I do a good job?

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

Bathroom Etiquette Fail

Our offices moved earlier this year, and we are now one of three businesses in a small brick building, which is one building within a little office park near the freeway.

The other two businesses have been here for awhile from what I can gather. Most of the people in the other two offices are made up of women. We (my office mate Chela and I) rarely see anyone from one space, and we see the two women from the office across the hall a lot. The women from the other office seem extremely friendly when I do have the occasional encounter. However, the girls from the office across from us give them impression of being tremendously snooty and hostile.

I no longer have my own private restroom (boo hoo). There is a common area restroom that all three suites use. I hate it because I hate public restrooms, but as far as public restrooms go, these are not horrible. They have the obligatory mauvey-pink tile and paint. The paper towels, toilet paper, seat covers, and soap are all kept pretty well stocked.

A few months after we move in, a sign goes up inside the door, which outlines in detail proper restroom etiquette. I assume that it is directed to the women in our office, since we are "the new girls." They are all obvious rules in my opinion. I have witnessed no violation of the rules, and being such a freak about such things, I would have. Of course I assume it is from the Snooty Hostile Office Girls, and not the Friendly Office Girls, but obviously there is no way to know for sure. Except to say that the Snooty Hostile Office Girls work for a printing company, and the font, layout, and paper were of very high quality. Anyway...

Welcome to the building.

A couple of weeks later, on a Friday, Chela brought in a lovely plate of deviled eggs (yummy), and here is where the story takes an interesting turn.

On Fridays, we empty our garbage cans in anticipation of the weekend. Nobody wants to come into the office on Monday to a yucky garbage can. At the end of the day, The Boy and The Man were waiting for me in the car, so I was feeling rushed. I am the last one in the office, running around turning off lights, turning off the A/C, getting out my keys to lock the office, etc. As I rush by the kitchen area table, I notice the three leftover deviled eggs sadly waiting to be dealt with (ending sentence with a preposition).

I did not feel I had time to take the plate to the dumpster, I certainly could not leave them out all weekend, nor could I put them in the freshly emptied garbage cans. So guess where they went?

In the women's restroom garbage.

Although not specifically called out on the sign, I'm sure that would be against the rules in the mind of the person who created the sign. I figure the janitors were coming into the office that night and hoped the infraction would either not be found out at all, or would be forgiven.

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

The Perfect Card

Went to Target this weekend to pick out Mother's Day cards for my mom, my grandmother, and my expectant sister-in-law. The Man did not get a card for me, but he made me coffee and French Toast for breakfast. COFFEE, PEOPLE. Let's not forget how important that is to my sanity. In addition, The Boy's class had a Mother's Day Tea (more on that later, so totally adorable btw). Needless to say, I felt totally loved in spite of the absence of a random Hallmark card.

In searching for perfect cards for above referenced mothers, we found a perfect card for me, see photos below, after reading the background.

Background: I enjoy the rules of spelling and grammar, and although I may not always (okay, hardly ever) abide by them, I can identify spelling errors and grammatical errors very easily when looking at the written word. One of my favorite rules is that one should never end a sentence with a preposition (about, above, before, from, on, etc.). This can actually be difficult at times, and I often catch myself doing it. However, The Man has heard me quote this rule many a times. I think now he just inwardly rolls his eyes inwardly, but he used to be like, what in the heck, lady, I don't even know what a preposition is, let alone, how to get it away from that period at the end of a sentence.

End of background. Enjoy the card.

The girl on the left is saying: "Do you realize how much mothers put up with?" to which the lady on the right replies: "Don't end a sentence with a preposition."

Then you open the card and the girl on the left rephrases her initial statement: "Do you realize how much mothers put up with, bitch?"

Monday, May 11, 2009

Staple Phobia

I don't like staples. I don't like that they punch holes in the paper. I don't like that they are so permanent. I would rather use paper clips. They slide on and off so you can change the order of the paper, add pages, remove pages. You cannot do that with a staple without removing the staple from the paper and adding more holes to the paper, further destroying it.

Staples require too much commitment. I'm not ready for that.

In Which I Am Back

So I haven't been blogging anywhere else. I did start a new blog and I blogged there a few times, but it just wasn't the same and I gave up quickly.

I thought I wanted to start a new blog because I had things to say that required privacy, but as it turns out, NO.

And I wanted to start blogging here again about so many things, but they didn't seem to "fit" with the original idea of my blog, which was to note things in The Boy's life. So I am officially changing the idea. This is a blog. A place for me to come and say whatever I need to say whenever I need to say it.

Never would I have done this, except for someone made a statement of appreciation and combined with the quote he also RT'ed, I am not going to question this decision any longer.

And now there is so much catching up to do, I can't wait to share it!