TGIF!

My Friday went a little something like this...

--woke up over and over again through out the night coughing my lungs out. Had to double up on cough meds just to settle down.
--woke up late and in a fog thanks to said cough meds.
--laid in bed for an hour trying to remember my name and where I was. OK, maybe that is a bit of a hyperbole, but it is semi-accurate.
--made the boy some breakfast, let the dog out to pee, made and ate some breakfast myself, took a bath, dried hair, and finally made it to the girl's room.
--found the girl in not one, but two, dried up pools of vomit. Got her cleaned up.
--fussed over and over at the boy to get dressed as I am battling a sick two year old to put on her shirt.
--gathered the last of the "big" Christmas boxes and discarded wrapping paper piles into the back of the van so that it can get to the trash dump sometime in 2007.
--stepped back outside with both kids to realize it is now raining buckets. We have no umbrella.
--struggled to get the van door open in the rain, with a fussing baby and a hyper 6 year old who insisted on bringing the dog with him.
--finally, got into the van and got everyone into their seats. Got soaking wet while the girl fusses about taking off her coat.
--realized that the car battery is, in fact, dead. Now it makes sense why the sliding door would not slide.
--sat in the car, defeated, and waited for the rain to stop. Explained to the children that we cannot go anywhere cause the car battery is dead.
--Rushed back inside during a rain lull to realize we really didn't have any food for lunch since I have not been to the grocery store since before Christmas.

(Did I mention this was all just the first 2 hours of my day?)

--Sat down to start work. I will sit at my computer for the next 5 hours trying to balance job duties and parenting--which I am expected to do simulatneously and seamlessly.
--answered a work phone call while stopping the girl from pulling the dog's tail. Try to muffle the sound of her disappointment through the headset.
--figured out that we have rolls in the freezer. Took a discreet moment to fix small, but palatible sandwiches--complimented by goldfish crackers.
--watched three hours pass as the boy learned to ride his razor scooter (a new Christmas present) in circles inside the house. Offered lots of praise and took several deep breaths as he got faster and faster.
--Put the girl down for nap. She is happy as long as she has at least 3 toys, 5 books, 3 blankets, 1 water sippy, 1 light, and music.
--Argued with the boy that he cannot keep Cartoon Network on all day long and asked him to please watch PBS or soemthing more educational. His answer to this was to play games on the computer at Cartoonnetwork.com. I am working again and do not notice. He knows this.
--Finally, I can log out of work only to realize that the boy is on the computer playing at Cartoonnetwork.com. This oversight is now corrected.
--Got 10 minutes of floor exercise as I watched Oprah. This is interrupted by a razor scooter rolling precariously close to my head. I got up.
--Straightend up the house. Sweept the floors.
--Started making pizzas for dinner. One is a special 3 cheese pizza for the boy--a very picky eater.
--We all sat down to dinner. The boy announced he no longer likes yelow cheeses and will not be eating his dinner. The girl is apparently still ill and not at all interested in eating pizza. I, for one, like my pizza, so I eat mine and theirs.
--The Techno Geek is now home. We are instructed by the girl that we must sit in the floor of the kitchen as he eats. She is going to put in a singing show.
--The boy continued zooming the house on his razor scooter. He has tricks to show his father.
--The girl asks for and recieves a bath.
--The boy did not ask for his bath, but got one anyway. Meanwhile, I swept the floor for a second time.
--With time to spare, we started to watch the Planet Earth DVD. We picked the Mountains episode. I struggled to stay awake. The Techo Geek took a nice deep nap. The boy rode his scooter.
--Bedtime for children. This blur of demands and pleads took over an hour.
--used my nettipot. No, it is not drugs. It is a sinus cleanser. You literally pour water from one side of your nose out the other. Not pleasant, but is really nice after the fact.
--Watched Lost Season 3 bonus materials. Learned that Desmond was having Deja Vu--only backwards.
--Midnight--climbed into bed with my humidifier running and took another dose of my cough meds. Bracing myself to do it all again on Saturday.

Turcatey

I assure you, the stories I write here are real. This is honestly my life. Welcome to the insanity....

As you know, about a week ago, my cat was run over. He was a lovely white cat with light brown tabby stripes. He had loved to meow and rub up against your legs for attention. He was 10 years old.

I was out of town when it happened and did not get to witness him or the aftermath. Perhaps that is why I keep seeing him everywhere.

From the corner of my eye, he darts about. One day, I knew I saw him out my backyard window. On a second inspection, I realized it was our dog--who also happens to be white. The next day I stopped cold when I thought I saw him laying in the grass across the street--it was just a plastic bag. Yes, Simon is indeed gone--even if it doesn't seem quite real.

Yesterday, on my way to town, I see something on the side of the road. As I get closer I realize it's an animal. I always feel a sense of disappointment when I see any animal as road kill--let alone a cat--and especially after having my own pet die in such a manner. Getting closer, it seems to be a cat--a white cat with familiar brown stripes. It is sitting in a freakish position--up on it's bottom, leaning forward, legs splayed. I gave my usual "awwwwww......too bad," speech to myself and continue on the road. But this animal I can't stop thinking about. What were the odds a cat would land that way? And actually stay? It bothered me. I wanted to go back and push it over so it was laying on its side. I don't know why, it just bothered me. Like its was propped up for some road side freak show. And then I think..what if it isn't dead and it's trying to get up? What if it is hurt and still alive?

I turn around and head back.

Coming up on the scene, I try to brace myself. Living in the country, I have seen my fair share of road carnage. It can be brutal to say the least. It was still there, but it didn't look as white as I first saw--this time it looked beige all over. I started to slow down and pull over. It has no head. Just a big gaping hole. OK didn't expect that.

But this is where it gets very strange. I know, I know--strange is turning around to go look at a probably dead cat. To do what? Try to save it? That never crossed my mind, but I didn't have to worry about that. Turns out, it isn't a cat--not at all. It is a turkey. No, not a turkey on the lamb from the slaughter house...and not a wild turkey who took a wrong turn. I mean a turkey like you buy for Thanksgiving. A "pass the gravy?" kind of turkey. There it was--a random, unwrapped, uncooked turkey in the median. I have to admit, I was relieved. But at the same time I didn't know what to think! Which was stranger--that I saw my dead cat on the side of the road but it was really a turkey OR that I saw a raw turkey laying on the side of the road. I think I may be going insane...

I'm old enough to be his mom!

So a couple of months ago, my family is eating at CiCi's Pizza ("Welcome to Cici's!") when I realized the kid behind the bar is staring at me. Now, I say kid, but I don't mean snot nosed, diaper wearing, lollipop eating KID--I mean full fledged, hormone laden teenager. Feeling a little self conscious, I put down my salad tongs and give him a look back as if to challenge him in a stare war.

Kid: Oh! You really freaked me out.
Me: Really? (Now feeling a bit more self conscious)
Kid: You look just like my mom! I was about to ask you what you were doing here!
Me: hehehe (my fake laugh) really?
Kid: Yeah! You have the same hair and glasses and everything. Wow that is really weird!
Me: Yeah....strange.....

At that moment I realized it. Plain as day. It doesn't matter that I know how long Nicole Richie spent in jail or even who Nicole Richie is. Or that I know what Brittany was up to last night because I read all the celeb gossip sites. It doesn't even matter that I can sing along with Kanye or that I own a Wii and can actually make a decent score on it. And it certainly doesn't matter that I can recite lines from almost every episode of The Office. (did I mention yet that is my favorite show ever??? But I digress) All that is real is that I look old enough to be a teenager's Mom!

When did this happen? Someone give my my iPod and my chocolate already. I need a nap!

1,2,3,4..my Feisty child

I am in my room hanging curtains when the girl waddles in offering to help. "I help!" she states--believing that she can actually reach the top of the window sill with the 5 pound drill in hand and install the rod with ease. In my usual survival mode, I look for an out. I am most definitely a flight not fight kind of girl. The problem was, I had just cleaned my room and had none of the usual tools of distraction. Just as I was starting to prep myself for a battle of the wills, the Today show (of all things) offered up a distraction of tremendous magnitude. Like an early Christmas gift! Let me back track...

A few months ago, the Techno Geek (aka the Husband) downloaded a little ditty by a group named Feist called "1,2,3,4." Long ago we lost track of how many times the girl would dance to this song. "Again!" she cries each time it goes off. She waddles around the house humming the tune to herself. She will ask the Techno Geek to go downstairs with her to his lair just to play this one song over and over again. And it never grows old.

Fast forward a couple of months and "1,2,3,4" has caught the attention if the Powers That Be at Apple--enlisting the very catchy tune for its IPod campaign. Fast forward through several more girl dances and you have yourself at this morning--in my room--shushing the girl and telling her a surprise was coming on tv. "A supise?" she repeats. "Listen!" I say--covering the drill with a old tshirt.

A familiar beat, a little different as most live versions are, but familiar none the less. Que the singer--ahhhh! Immediate recognition! Instantly her little legs start bouncing. Arms start waving. She starts spinning and bouncing on my bed,diving onto my pillows and jumping back up again to sing the song she loves so much. I have to admit, I danced and sang too. After all, that is one catchy tune.

Fetchin' Bastards

Who runs over a cat time after time until that cat is no longer recognizable? Especially a cat with a collar--that is some one's pet. MY PET. The boy's pet, too. Sickos.

Shimmering Lights

From the corner of my eye, I could see my Christmas tree lights blinking. "Since when have I have blinking lights on my tree?" I thought to myself. Yeah, I don't. In reality, it was the girl shaking the tree as she scooted her small 2 year old body behind it. Once I got her out without toppling the tree, I realized this Christmas is going to be very fun, but very challenging. Will she open all of the presents? Will the ornaments stay on the tree? Will she try to pull the tree with her in the same manner she does the dog by her tail? Only time will tell.

The boy is on his 6th Christmas (well, 7th as he was only 4 months old for his first Christmas). He got to put the star on the tree this year--a sign of his littlemanhood. I was amazed he still cared after spending the last hour running around the tree stand playing peek-a-boo behind the trees. It was sweet to hear the laughter of a brother and his sister dashing around trees and trying desperately to enjoy a task most find cumbersome. The boy--a stickler for not changing tradition--had originally protested getting a real tree this year--saying that he wanted the tree we always use. However, when the lights were strung, the ornaments hung and the star atop, we turned the lights out and they marveled.

Robots, Hairbows and String Cheese

Three things you can find at any given time in my house. The boy--well known for his love of all things cheese--will run through the house, robots in hand, seeking out the next intergalactic war. Those pesky battles seem to always take place within my living room. Bits and pieces of machinery torn and strewn about. Piles of defeated action figures who stand no chance against the massive power of my son--the war lord--and his team of menacing robotic soldiers. An arm here--a leg there....it is brutal I tell you. But then a glimpse of beauty in the midst of the destruction....something shiny....something pink. The girl's hairbows--victims of her 2 year old autonomy--lie on the floor, ready for the vacuum cleaner to suck them into the dirty black hole. They show up everywhere--like little stalkers. In my coat pocket, under my covers, in the floorboard of the car, the bathtub, under the couch cushions, and most ominously, perched upon the edge of the stairs. Over and over again all day I pick up robots and hairbows and anything else they can manage to drag out. And at the end of the long, long day--well, that is a good time to enjoy a string cheese...