Honey, I'm Home!

Happy Birthday Mom!

2008-10-25T01:02:00.000-07:00

How do you repay the woman who gave brith to you when her birthday comes around?

For my mom, I had the perfect night planned out - my husband would make his wonderful meat sauce and spaghetti, I contributed homemade sausage from Romanelli's and a rum cake from Baker Wee...I gave her an amazing bottle of wine with a story behind it from a movie we took her to last month (Not to mention the wine is a FABULOUS vintage), and my brother and his girlfriend got her a massage and a dozen roses.

You would think I would have quit while we were ahead.

But, alas, no, I also thought we should all, as a family, go to a local haunted house since it was so close to Halloween - what could be more fun!

As we drove to the haunted house, I realized my purse with the cash I pulled out earlier was in my truck, still in our garage. We had taken Mike's truck to the haunted house. We called my mom, who was in HER truck, to tell her we were stoppping at the ATM for more cash. Not to worry, my mom assured us -she had cash on her. Great, I thought - her birthday and she is paying for our entry to the haunted house.

Should have quit while we were still sort of ahead.

When we got to the haunted house, we were greeted by a friendly looking woman who owned the house, who asked us if we wanted the PG or R rated version of the spooking. "R! WE WANT THE R! PLEASE MOM!" pipes up the six and 11/12's year old at my elbow. My mom frowned and asked the lady, "Do they TOUCH you? I can't stand when people touch me." The woman looked concerned and I quickly said "We'll do the R version, I'll stay behind you so any touching will happen to ME not to you. Come on! Let's go!" I thought, HOW SCARY CAN IT BE?? I mean seriously, it's teenagers dressed up, right, the scariest thing about them is their vernacular and an occasional really short cameltoe skirt. As we waited our turn, I heard an occasional chainsaw, and smelled gasoline. Wait - they are actual CHAIN SAWS? But no time for second thoughts, because a reaper appeared to escort us to our doom.

Say it with me - yep - should quit while we were ahead.

Instead of me keeping my promise and being the "Rear man" in our line, as soon as people bounded out of the cornstalks with chainsaws and lunged at us, I used my mother as a human shield to hide behind - and the chainsaw people - yep-you guessed it - ran up to us and TOUCHED my mother with a chainsaw. Anyone who knows my mom and her "personal space" quirk would have shuddered at this point for the kid in the Jason mask carrying the chainsaw. But - My mom was a good sport! She pulled me behind her again and we proceeded through the cornfield to a bridge over what was a pool in the summer only to have the shit scared out of us by alligators under our feet and a skeleton popping out of the water. The scariest thing was this huge TROLL At the end of the bridge. My brother, Mike, and Max all went past with no problem but when me and my mom went to disembark from the bridge, the troll would advance toward us and we would shriek and run back onto the bridge. Finally, I bolted forward, forgetting I was holding my mom's arm. In one horrifying motion, my mom catapulted past me, rolled three times on the ground, and landed on her butt in a heap by the troll.

The scary music literally stopped, you could hear a frigging pin drop as the place went still - Kyle, Mike, and I tried pulling my mom up, (Oddly she was light as a feather when I flung her through the air)and we truly thought she was a goner. I thought at the LEAST she broken a hip. Of course I felt terrible, it was all my fault. WHO FLINGS THEIR OWN MOTHER???

Now, bleeding, limping, and embarrassed,my mom (SO the good sport here) assures us she wants to finish the tour and limps through the rest of the house with us. I feel obligated to point out that this haunted house was very well done and the proceeds all go to charity. It's thescarekrow.com for those of you in AZ who may read this. (Yes both of you)

Upon exiting, we realize my mom is bleeding profusely from her ankle where a whole huge patch of skin has been sheared off, and her other leg is also skinned at the knee. And when I say "profusely bleeding" I mean, the people who run the haunted house were a) glad we didn't sue them and b)will find multiple pools of blood and possible small pieces of my mother's leg out by their troll set-up.

Once we got back to my mom's house and set her up in an ACE bandage, and got the bleeding somewhat controlled, we were actually able to giggle about what will surely go down in the annals of history as the WORST BIRTHDAY EVER. She was so great about it. But we still all agreed that I defninitely tossed the old bird through the air, a feat which I cannot beleive I performed, even in terror, adn Mike was quite happy to report that my mom looked "just like a movie stuntman" when she rolled on the ground a few times before we were able to help her up. I think he likes ME being the idiot for a change.

So - Happy Birthday Mom. Wonder how to top this NEXT year!

Max Kalka, Master Conversationalist

2008-08-30T22:51:00.000-07:00

OK Max is getting to be pretty smart now. At six and a half, he is as clever as some gorwnups I deal with every day. Below are some snatches of conversations he's initiated lately. BLINK! They grow up that fast.

MAX: Mom - if I were a moth, would you still love me? (Knowing my deathly fear of moths)
MOM: Well I would be a mommy moth and you would be my baby moth so of course I would love you. I would love you even if you were a moth and I weren't.

MAX: (to Mike) How old should I be when I get a girlfriend? And what color should she be?
MIKE: Ask your mother.

MAX: (to Mike, entering a convenience store, noticing a "no smoking" sign) How come you can't smoke here?
MIKE: I guess because it's icky.
MAX: Then how come they sell cigarettes?

MAX: (mad at Mommy, who did not let him do something he wanted to do) Well, only NICE mommies let their kids do that, anyway!
MOM: Oh, yeah, and I'm a mean, ugly, old witch of a mommy!!
MAX: Aww, Mommy, you aren't old!!

MOM (to Max, who needs to be in bed): Come on Max, you're gonna get Daddy mad, he needs to get to bed early for work.
MAX: So? you make Daddy mad ALL the time.

I love love love this boy. He is so funny. He makes our life so amazing day in and day out. We are so lucky to have him. I hope he never loses his inquisitiveness or quick mind.

Max's Witty Repartee this week

2008-05-28T21:23:00.000-07:00

We were watching the news the other morning over cereal and that story about the little girl in Virginia who got stung by a scorpion at WalMart came on. Max watched the entire segment, and then said to me, "Now isn't that a little bit ridiculous?" and I said, "What?" and he replied, "That they put THAT story on the news. Ridiculous, don't you think?"

Max was bathing tonight and I washed his back for him as I usually do. As I washed, I noticed two small scratched areas at the base of his spine and asked if he had gotten hurt, because he had marks on his back. "no, I've been itching a lot lately. I'm having FLEAS."

I think he sees too many flea collar commercials. He has said before that he needs a flea collar. I dont think he realizes they are limited to dogs/cats.

CMT TORTURE

2008-05-07T20:35:00.000-07:00

Max puts off going to bed by watching TV - he will retire to his room at like 7:30 but winds up watching Cartoon Network (or Cartoon Neckwork as Max pronounces it)till way late and it's impossible to get him to sleep by that time.

So tonight Mike tried a different tactic. When he put Max to bed, Max of course asked to watch TV. Mike replied, sure, but you can only watch the Country Music Channel. He even took Max's remote so he could not change the channel.

It's been 45 minutes and Max is STILL crying.

One can only wonder what kind of serial killer is created this way.

WIFE SWAP!

2008-04-09T22:04:00.001-07:00

Mornings are HORRIBLE with Max. He is grumpy, hateful, and uncooperative. I have tried being nice, funny, firm, stern, ignoring him, physically pulling him around the house to do his morning stuff, and it is just always the same. The kid HATES mornings. To say he is not a morning person is a gross understatement.

So today he was particularly bastardly, and we were late getting out of the house, and on the way to school he accused me of "only thinking of myself" because I made him hurry up to get into the car.

THAT did it. Don't ever say that to a MOM - the person who has done nothing BUT think of her child(ren) since she gave birth!!

I gave him such a piece of my mind. I told him all sorts of stuff, reminded him of "who played in the mud with you when you wanted to play in mud? I even MADE mud and THEN played in it with you! Do you think I like mud? Or like to play in mud?? Was I thinking of myself then?" and eventually told him to be quiet and not say ONE WORD till we got to the school.

We rode the rest of the way to school in stony silence, Max looking angrily out his window, and when we pulled up to the school, I sighed and put the car in park. As soon as the car stopped moving, I heard his mean little voice:

"I wish we could do a wife swap!"

whatever.

GYM TORTURE

2008-04-06T08:53:00.001-07:00

Why?

Why must I drag my large white ass to the gym, heave my gym bag into my locker, climb onto a machine where I am fairly certain that no one will have a bird's eye view of my jiggling buttocks as I fight cardiac arrest on the elliptical machine, and finally set up my water bottle and IPOD perfectly, and resign myself to the fact that I will be working out for the next 30 minutes to the fact that my relationship with food has gotten me into this position, ONLY TO FIND MYSELF STARING AT THE GYM TV WHICH HAS THE FOOD NETWORK RUNNING 24/7.

Don't they know this is like porn for fat people?

The skinny bastards who run the gym are, indeed, sadists.

My mother, the Heathen....by Max Kalka

2008-03-29T07:42:00.001-07:00

This week a friend of mine died. She was only ten years older than I am (and that is NOT old!) so I had been thinking about it all week, and kind of in shock, depressed, the whole nine yards.

Max's first baseball game is at the same time of the funeral service so I explained to him why I couldn't attend his game, and that I had to go to the funeral for my friend who died.

"What's a funeral?" Max asked.

I thought carefully, and then replied, "It's where all the people who loved the person who died get together and go to church to say goodbye to the person and to pray together."

Max waited about a second and then exclaimed, "YOU'RE going to church?!?!"

The Snow is Wet!! Or, Why Fat People don't Ski

2007-12-30T07:44:00.000-08:00

This photo of Michelle and Max looks so perfect that the background looks fake!

See? Told ya...Hemp Town!!!!!

Down the hill!! yay max!!!

In the parking lot of the sledding place.

GORGEOUS!!!

Kyle never lost the daredevil gene, even at 18 he still tries dumb stunts. I will spare him the agony of posting the photo of him immediately after this one, where Kyle has fallen on his ass and is writhing in what appears to be a mixture of agony and embarrassment.

Max in one of his many, many rolls through the snow.

Cutest Couple of the year!

My baby boy.

Uncle Kyle took such great pains to make sure Max was safe AND had fun!! He's so awesome.

Another face-dive into the snowbank for Kalka.

Ok....on the right, a MOUNTAIN WOMAN! No, that's me!

OK we went up to the snow yesterday for Max to play in it, sled in it, eat it, etc. All the things kids like to do with snow. We live in Peoria AZ (elevation, zero, appx) and went to Flagstaff, AZ, elevation 6000 feet.

What's the difference? Well, let me tell you. Getting GAS at a gas station left me gasping for air. Oxygen! Apparently, in high altitudes, it's at a premium. Considering I was having an issue finding oxygen, it amazed me that what appears to be 90% of Flagstaff's population are what I call "Hemp people" or "Armpit hair farmers"; ie POTHEADS. Pot is very prevalent up there, you can't spit out the car window without hitting some rasta dude on the dreads. It's a serious hemp town. And the other 10% of people are, well, mounatin type people with dirty old pickups and several kinds of livestock wandering about their property. I know,I am probably being the ignorant city folk and some irate Flagstaff-ite is going to put me in my place. But hey - look at the photo of this sign from the Quality Inn we were getting gas next to - YOU CANT MAKE THIS STUFF UP. I'm just sayin'.

MARTIANS WELCOME the sign says.

So making fun of the town aside, we had a great time. Max got to go sledding and I can't do anything strenuous or potentially dangerous (except making fun of hemp towns) for another five weeks. I got a lot of great photos, we froze our asses off, and in spite of feeling like our lungs could NOT take in enough air, we felt invigorated, alive, and free.

And Max was SO happy. We had such a great time and I can't wait to do it again, when I too can partake in a dangerous pasttime. Ooh and by then I will be skinnier so I will probably sound less like Darth Vader having sex when I climb the hills!!

Our Christmas 2007

2007-12-28T23:49:00.001-08:00

Max made a gingerbread man at school. It looks like he was a murder victim!

Our stockings, hung with care. I've had the same one Dad and Pam got me in 8th grade, on the left.

Max decorating the tree in his "Human Torch" costume.

The house that can be seen (and heard) from space

Max making our annual Gingerbread house.

Max on Xmas morning trying to read the note from Santa telling him to look upstairs for his Wii.

Terry with his gift from Mike

Kyle and Michelle in matching jackets! They are way too cute.

The tux shirt from Gammy!!

Just a precious photo of my baby's baby blues.

The awful gingerbread people we made. They were ROCK HARD. Find the vajayjay and boobie one!! I made that one and had Max bring it up to MIke saying "Here dad, mom made this for you!" Of course Max then asked what the cookie had a "w" and a "V" on it for. I said "West Virginia!"

Well Santa has come and gone, I got what I wanted for sure - The Lap Band surgery! I am currently 11 days out and have lost 26 pounds since December 4th. (Its now the 28th. A pound a day!) And going INTO surgery the thing I was most afraid of was the anesthesia - now after surgery, the thing that bothered me most was realizing after I'd gone home that I'd been catheterized!!! I was mortifed that people saw my Vajayjay!! No one sees the Vajayjay! I didnt think laparoscopic surgery required cathing. PIssed me off. I would have done some unique shaving. Or something.

Max got his wish - The Nintendo Wii - and Mike got his GPS Magellan Roadmate for his truck.

I also got, from Mike, a beautiful diamond "journey" necklace with 7 diamonds - one for each year we have been together. He also did a FABULOUS job at my other gifts (yeah I got OTHER GIFTS!!) - he chose a red crock pot for the kitchen, got me a Houdini Wine opener, a red wrought iron paper towel holder for the kithcen, and a red tea kettle. Oh yeah and an extra TP holder for the powder room. A more sweet gift than you think - I am always bitching about the lack of toilet paper unless I am the one to go get it. Well now I have a place for surplus TP. Knowing my penchant for using a TON of TP (yes you can EAT off my butt, I practically scrape my skin off when wiping, I like it CLEAN) my family will get a kick outta that.

And the best of all present - a HUGE collage of alll the photos I took of Mike and Max over the last six years. Mike did it himself and had worked on it before I came home each night and hid it in the guest bedroom behind the headboard of the bed!! It's amazing. In the center is my favorite photo, the first ever of MIke and Max together - Mike is holding Max, who is a few minutes old, in the hospital, showing him to relatives through tears of joy. The expression in his face is amazing and Max was so small and LOUD....I remember like it was yesterday and that picture always takes me back to that magical, incredible day of miracles.

Okay and before you say "You spoiled brat", I do want to say that last year I got ONE gift - a fire pit- which we have NEVER used to this day. Not that I dont want to use it, Mike refuses each time I ask to set it up for a fire. I bought marshmallows for Max to roast and everything. We still have year-old "Duraflame" logs sitting in the pantry.

So...this year made up for a lot.

Here are some pictures (check out the X rated Gingerbread woman I made - Max asked why it had a "W" and a "V" on it!! HAHAH!!) and a video of Max singing in the car with his headphones on Chritsmas Eve on the way home from Terry and Shelly's.

Coolest gift award for the year goes to Gammy - who got Max a tuxedo T shirt for New years Eve!! Max has been dying for a tux and what a great way to get him the look he's after!!! Go Gammy Go!!

I miss my family and friends back in Philly so if you are reading this I miss and love you. I also miss my PacifiCare friends who I dont see as much and my friends in AZ who I dont see as often as I would like. So if you read this, call me!!

Merry Everything 2007.

Max's first Christmas Program

2007-12-20T09:48:00.000-08:00

I left out the pictures of him picking his nose in front of the whole auditorium. Here is a video to enjoy though.

Also, we took some pix at the house of Max all dressed up. He looks so cute!! So do I, ya can't tell I had surgery the day before, huh?

Milestone

2007-08-28T20:33:00.000-07:00

I try not to be the "braggy" parent. But sometimes, I can't help it!! And in a world where my child is the one eating his own boogers, when a chance to say "MY KID IS GREAT" comes up, I'm gonna have to do it.

MY KID IS GREAT!!!! Max read most of the book "Max's first word" (A Max and Ruby book) by sounding out the words and even though it was a struggle, he stuck with it till the end and I AM SO PROUD OF MY LITTLE READER!!!!

I will quote: "Say POT, Max!" Said Ruby. "BANG!" Said Max. All that was sounded out with no help. I helped in other places but that was all my kid!!!

Today Max and Ruby, tomorrow, his inaugural acceptance speech....

Funny Things Max Said this Week

2007-08-25T15:23:00.000-07:00

"My tooth is SO loose! I need a butt to bite!" -after his LAST tooth that was loose came out while chasing his father and eventually biting him in the butt while running.

When asked what his boogies taste like (Yes, little disgusto eats his own boogies) "Chicken!"

The unrequieted love at school "Madison is STILL mean to me. When I sit next to her, she scoots over! She only likes Bradley who's all HANDSOME and everything..." I asked him why he bothered with her if she was always so mean to him. "Because she's so pretty and I want to make her be nice so she can be my girlfriend." (See? It's true. Guys don't care if you're a bitch as long as you are a hottie. Even in kindergarten they are willing to put up with abuse to get the pretty girl.)

"Where' my Marco shirt?" Instead of polo shirt.....

"We learned the pledgelle of deleigiance today. It's this rhyme you do in school."

When asked how many snacks and lunches he was buying all day at school with his PIN number "That's not money!! That's just a credit card!!" Dear God. No wonder his account was depleting faster than the Bush Administration's approval ratings....I had visions of him buying a round of milk for the entire class. Like his father.

He's hysterical. This is juat a smattering of his wit. I love my boy!!!

MODERN DAY MYSTERIES

2007-08-15T19:37:00.000-07:00

While enjoying the photo of MAXS FIRST SCHOOLWORK ASSIGNMENT EVER...contemplate the mysteries of life, inclduing my own little mysteries of day to day life.....

How is it that I bought ten pairs of socks for each kid not to be used till school starts and now that we've had THREE DAYS of school, no one has clean socks?

Why hasn't my husband's skin on his buttocks organically adhered itself to the couch cushion yet?

Why does the agency Child Protective Services do nothing to ACTUALLY protect CHILDREN???? Why are they not called "Arizona Insane and dangerous parent reunification Agency" or "Project to Destroy the Youth Of Tomorrow through bad Placement Decisions"

Why do we own four vacuum cleaners? We don't all vaccuum at the same time. In fact, no one but me EVER vacuums. Correctly, anyway.

Why is there always some mean ass kid in daycare who you want to tie up and beat with a flyswatter? (Or at the very least, drive nails into their parents' Hummer tires?)

How is it possible that in Arizona, where we are used to temperatures around 110-115 degrees, we had a HEAT ADVISORY the other day? HOW HOT DO YOU THINK IT HAS TO BE FOR THAT TO HAPPEN? Hint: Frying your ass on your leather car seats ring a bell?

Whatever happened to CHik O Stix? Fruit snacks suck!

Why have our asses gotten larger but maxi pads have gotten smaller?

Whats so wrong about wearing Depends on a long drive? I have a bladder the size of a teaspoon. I can relate to the Crazy Astronaut Lady!

How is it that I have a liver left at ALL if I just found out like, a YEAR ago not to take Tylenol when I've been drinking??? I've been drinking since the 80's!

Why does my son not listen to my YEAR OF NAGGING him to brush his teeth more often but three days of the "Mean Ass Kid" at daycare teasing him about his breath have made him hyper-aware of his Austin-Powers-like dentition?

How can my husband barely tolerate six minutes of foreplay (Him being the giver, I mean) but can play the same level on James Bond Playstation for five hours running till he "Beats the Level"?

Why do I now require dark chocolate with my red wine? And why does the wine have to have a "Bouquet"? I remember when Boones Farm was "wine". Or white zinfandel!

How is it that I can go weeks without checking the bank account and its all ok? I remember checking just to make sure I had money in it!!

JUST ANOTHER BRICK IN THE WALL...

2007-08-13T21:19:00.000-07:00

Kids love their Gammy!
Max in his desk...he looks scared!
Happy Girl by her Second grade Class.
West Wing School - Gammy's white truck in the foreground
Max being picked as "Line Leader" for the first Line in Kindergarten!!! Yay!!

***************

Today was Max's first day of school. As a mother, I anticipated this day with joy (he's so smart! He will love it here and excel!) and with pain (My baby is taking his first brave steps away from my embrace and the safety of our nest). I was prepared for all of these feelings. I was NOT prepared for the HEAT. Okay, not just ANY heat, the Arizona, choking, stifling, swimming in your own sweat kinda heat that makes you say "Is it REALLY only 8 am???" (I swear standing in line to get Max into class, between crying and sweating I must have lost five pounds.) And I know, you're thinking, "Dumbass-you live in Arizona, whattya think you're getting off easy in summer?" Not really. But come ON, my ass got burned on the car seat. Crazy Heat! I hate this state for the five months of summer.

Lilly was excited to start second grade, and thank GOD she's been talking up kindergarten and how MUCH SHE LOVED it so Max is excited to go to school and not scared. They both got up and ate cereal, and put on their "First day of school" outfits. I gave them each a card with five bucks in it from Mike and me, telling them how proud I am of them. They really are great kids. We all hopped into Gammys truck and went to the first day of school.

We went and talked to the before school care staff - I was pleased to note that they had lots of toys and Max asked if he could stay and play with the army guy toys - I promised tomorrow he could do that. Today was a run thru for me mostly to get the routine down. (as a first time mom of a kindergartner and now having both Max and Lilly in school, a lot of prep work is needed and I needed two days off work to adjust! and to shop! yay!)

Max's teacher's name is Mrs. Nebel (pronounced Neeble)and I pray he stops calling her Mrs. Niblet soon.

Lilly's teacher is Myrs Lyons which is ironic because we're working on Lilly's fibbing right now.

They came home with first homework, first rule lists, and for the FIRST time, in his entire LIFE, Max was ASLEEP BY 8:15 PM!!! I AM IN HEAVEN......

Thank Goodness for the Good Old Board of Education. I might finally get some sleep!

Boring blog, I know, Im drained and tired, but at least enjoy the pictures.

Question

2007-08-08T11:49:00.000-07:00

Is there anything really quite as beautiful as your little boy's long eyelashes on his pink cheeks as he sleeps? How did I make this miracle? I must kiss him 300 times every morning when I look at him. He's perfect and he fills my heart with joy and peace.

No one will ever love him like I do.

SHAKEN, NOT STIRRED

2007-08-07T21:48:00.001-07:00

February 10, 2007 - Max look GOOD. Real good. He knew this because every one of the 35 or so females at the wedding told him this, after pinching his cheeks, or patting his head, or just saying what a heartbreaker he would be one day. (Max is the one in the picture who does NOT look like the Shat)(I married Denny Crane...I know) So because of all the FUROR over how great he looked, since Feb 10, all Max has talked about when we talk about the first day of school is HOW HE WANTS TO WEAR A TUXEDO for the first day of kindergarten. Can anyone say "Social pariah"? He would have been shooting himself in the foot. I mean, seriously.....SERIOUSLY...kids can be mean. And I want my kid to be okay in school so he doesnt CAUSE someone to or BE someone shooting up a school in ten years.

So the other night we were visiting friends (Queen of Everything and the Bee Terminator) when Queen asked Max, "So, Max, first day of school is coming. Are you excited?" He nodded. Queen went on to drill Max about wearing a tuxedo. Max sheepishly admitted he was indeed wearing a tux to the first day of kindergarten. Queen called her son Nicky, who was about to enter 3rd grade and whom Max really looks up to,"So Nicky - what do you think the kids would say if someone wore a tuxedo to school on the first day?" Nicky replied that some kids might make fun of someone. Max, undaunted, argued "Well, James BOND wears a tuxedo and HE gets all the girls!" Queen could not, and DID not argue with that - he DOES get the girls! but-and here's the genius, devious mind of my firend Queen of Everything at work: "So Max, I know what you can do! Why don't you wear a tux on Haloween and you can get a cool gun and a martini and be James Bond! How cool would THAT be?!?!" She thought of that right there on the spot.I was in awe of her ability to think on her feet like that.

She then asked Nicky what HE was planning to wear the first day of school. He said he would be sporting a new polo and new sneakers. So what does Max want now? You guessed it, a new polo shirt and new sneakers. WHOOPPEEE!! Still cheaper than a tux rental and Max (and US) will not be glaringly different from any of the other kids on the first day of kindergarten. On the one hand, I feel bad for squelching his individuality, but on the other hand, if he's already interested in girls, it kinda needs to be squelched, dontcha think? Especially if he's the kinda guy who has names for his genitals already.

So - disaster averted, thanks to Paige, the Queen of Persuasion. I now have eight brand new Polo shirts hanging in Max's closet awaiting the big day, six days from now, when my child will begin his academic career and take his first tentative steps away from me. Sniff.

And I STILL am gonna have to spring for a freaking tuxedo in October....Goodwill store, anyone? at last I have plenty of Martini glasses. I always knew being a lush would come in handy one day.

This week's Genitalia moniker

2007-07-30T07:30:00.000-07:00

This week, Max is calling his privates his "tater tots".

Should I be disturbed that all his names for his genitals are food items?

TV NAZI IN MY HOUSE

2007-07-25T14:06:00.001-07:00

Ummmm.....I got yelled at for using the wrong remote last night. I was using the remote that CAME WITH THE TV.

It got snatched out of my hand, I got yelled at, and was informed, spittle flying, that the remote I dared use was the "Back-up Remote"!!!

OK.....isn't this sort of like those people who drive around, refusing to use the blinker when making a turn in case it burns out?

Note to Remote Nazi residing in my home:

Hon,

I realize you spend 23.5 hours per day watching TV, thinking about TV,talking about TV,eating TV fantasizing about what KIND of TV you want, but truly - the .75 of an hour PER WEEK that I get to STOP doinglaundry&dishes&makingdinner&cleaningthetoiletsandtubsandyourURINEsplashofftheflooraroundthepotties&

pickingupallthethingsfromthefloorthatyouwalkrightpastseventeentimesinordertoavoidbendingatthewaist&

feedingyourkids&entertainingyourkids&GROCERYSHOPPINGWHICHYOUREFUSETODO&doingallthewritingofemails&

callingofourfriendsandfamilies&anyofficialbusinesssuchasbillpaying&schedulingdrvisits&ensuringthedogisnotpissingonthecarpet&

chewingholesinthewall&workingmyhighlystressfuljobfortenhoursadayonaGOODday...

I can use whatever f***ing remote I want to!

XOXOX

The Wife

The New Mr. Clean

2007-07-20T20:28:00.000-07:00

Scary goings-on in my home this week.

Last night, Max took a bath of his own accord, without prompting, wheedling, begging, bribing, or screaming on my part.

Then...

Today, Max cleaned his room, organized his drawers and VACUUMED his room.

Just for the record. I did NOT ask him to vacuum, it just happened. A Bonus!

This weekend is the big weekend where he is going to try sleeping in his own room. This will be nice for ME and MIKE, so that the sex life that stopped in 2001 with Max's birth can now resume. (Yes - he has been in my bed since 2001. Though it DOES make for an interesting alternative sex life, location wise. Lucky thing we have granite counter tops. )

Keep your fingers crossed that he stays in his room all night. Actually, 20 minutes oughta do it, really. Any longer than that...I get bored!

YOU PEOPLE!!!!

2007-07-18T17:07:00.000-07:00

Yes You!! The reader!! I know you are out there reading me. Please leave me comments or I will not be inspired to type my fingers to the bone about every boring, inane moment of my life for your (?) amusement.

Click on COMMENTS then follow the prompts. ITS NOT BRAIN SURGERY PEOPLE.

I read blogs. Other blogs. I COMMENT to show my appreciation of raw talent and amusing tales.......oh....wait a minute......

Maybe mine just.... sucks.

CPS POSTER CHILD

2007-07-14T16:15:00.001-07:00

So anyone who REALLY knows me knows I hate Costco. I hate the crowds (because I hate people, especially SHOPPING people, who are either always up your ass or going too slow in front of you, OR worst of all, practically sever one of your toes with their cart trying to beat you to the free samples of food the Costco shower cap ladies are cooking all day)

So we just saw "Transformers" with Max, (Lilly was with her mom) and Mike, Max and I brave the 150 degree Arizona summer heat to go inside and get some groceries.

At the entrance of the store, there is a display of Nintendo Wee's. Cut to Max, kneeling reverently by the one lowest to the ground, eyes alight with desire. Enter Dad, who says "Maybe you can ask Santa for one, for Christmas this year. You need to be really good for one of those!." Cut to child, who gets stormy look on face. "I want one today." Cut to Dad, and Mom, who exchange glances, and mom says "WEE don't have the money right now. That's why it's called a WEE." (delighted with my own joke, I do not realize that was the cue for my love child to begin a colossal public tantrum. )

It started with what I affectionately call "The Devil Face", where Max furrows his brows and glares evilly at everyone under darkened eyes. Oooh. Scary. At the appearance of the Devil Face, the Crossed Arms showed up at the party too. Then we have the Quicksand Stand. (The stand where you are still shopping or whatever and the kid is STUCK in that spot, knowing you will, as a good parent, sense they are not at your side after you take a step or three away.) With all three symptoms, I knew we were going from Mildly Bratty to full blown Little Bastard in a matter of seconds. Mike, whose sense of self-preservation isn't as sharply honed as my own, takes the bait and immediately begins threatening Max. "You better get your butt over here or you're NOT going to Colton's tonight." (Max's long awaited sleepover at his friend's house.)

At this, Max did "The Snort" which is when he's extremely upset, he blows out his nose like a reverse sniff, in a gesture of anger not unlike a bull in a cartoon. I tell Mike, "I'm shopping. He can't stop this job from getting done. I HATE this place and my ass is already here so I am gettign what we came for." Mike, now irritated that a) son is pissing us off and b) wife says we are still staying in the retail environment, walks over to where Max is still engaging in Quicksand Stand, Devil Face, and Arm Crossing - all the while, I'm getting a bit embarrassed becasue some Costco guy is stocking bread right next to us and has to hear us have a family argument right here in aisle 126. (I shit you not - Costco has an aisle 126. It's where we got the Oprah-friendly light bulbs at to do our part to keep Green. Go Gore Go.) Mike grabs Max be the arm, drag-walks him to the cart, and unceremoniously plunks (yes PLUNKS) him into the big part of the cart (The front would require said child's cooperation to sit in and we were well beyond expecting cooperation by that time.) where Max, still stubbornly crossing his arms, hits an elbow going down. Screams ensure, "YOU HURT ME!!! aaaaaaauhhh!! That HURT!!!! Say you're Sorry!!! You dont care!!!!" and Bread Guy is now carefully diverting his gaze, however, I sense that he probably thinks either a) we need to slap the shit outta this kid, or b) we are truly brutal parents who did attempt to dislocate Max's elbow on the cart and need to be reported to CPS. So Mike says "If you don't quit, I'm spanking you in front of everyone here!" Bread Guy looked decidedly eager at THAT prospect so I knew he was opting for A now. Max screamed a couple more times for good measure and OF COURSE only when other shoppers were passing by (Of course, when werent they passing? This was, after all, Costco and was more crowded that China in some areas.) Why is it that kids always make it a point to say things like "You hurt me! OW!" when people are around, whereas at home, I would have gotten another series of glaring/snorting/arm crossing? I hate that! I'm all for public spanking. (Spanking, not the beatings you see in parking lots on the news - although - I CAN RELATE to that mother.) Seriously. Make the kid bend over, in full view of all the shoppers on the frozen aisle, as they fight to get to their Belgian cream puffs. Spank his butt ceremoniously, counting each time. My fantasy. Since when are my fantasies around THIS subject matter? In a previous life, I would have had a fantasy about Brad Pitt bending ME over in the freezer aisle.

We moved on to the bread and cake department (an area we should just skip altogether, does anyone in my house need one more single carbohydrate, really?) and while I am choosing a Trans Fat-laden chocolate cake, I hear Max snuffling piteously in the cart. He had now morphed from Bratty Boy to Pity Boy. "Daddy hurt me and didn't say sorry..." he looked up at me with wide, tear filled blue eyes. We made our way to Meats, where I picked out a 146 pound pile of hamburger. "Max, Daddy put you in the cart and it was because you were not cooperating that you got hurt - Dad didn't intentionally hurt you. If I were you I would just sit down, be quiet, and behave the rest of the day." he looked at me again with THOSE EYES. "But Dad still needs to say he's sorry! HE hurt my feelings." I responded that he hurt our feelings by not listening and being a total monster in the store. We checked out, and went to the truck, and Mike eventually did tell Max that he was sorry for accidentally hurting him.

At home, he went right to his room and cleaned it, folded and organized his clothes and his dresser drawers, and cleaned his closet. Just like we asked him to in order to go to the sleepover. He was a total angel. How does that happen? COMPLETE angel. We only heard from him when he wanted us to come inspect his most excellent work. Great job! Great Kid! Where was Devil Boy? He was my baby again, my baby Max. Five years old and folding clothes.

But the angel times aren't as funny to remember. They are just the times that make us love them so much more every time we think about our children. I think they get us through the devil times.

The Fremote

2007-07-10T22:22:00.000-07:00

Max has always called the remote for the TV "The FREMOTE" (freemote). We humored him in this because it was always so quick that he would pick up new words and the correctly pronounce them, all childlike cuteness GONE all too soon. We loved this remnant of his childlike version of the word.

Now we ALL call the remote the fremote. It's part of our vernacular in our weird and wonderful little family.

Max is five and he says "Lilly" when he used to say "WUWWY" which evolved to "WOOLY" then "LULLY" and now, the proper form, "Lilly". All in less than a year.

Max also has different words for his genitals. These words change from week to week and sometimes I'm not up on the lingo, and will accidentally say a sentence with the new genitalia term in it and Max and Lilly will laugh at me. For example - one night driving home Max and Lilly wanted to know what was for dinner. I said homemade soft tacos and maybe some nachos. The kids ERUPTED into laughter. "BWAH HAHAHAHA!! WE'RE EATING NACHOS!! MOMMY SAID WE'RE HAVING -----NACHOS-----FOR DINNER!!! EAT MY NACHOS HAHAHAHA" and you get the picture, now - that "nachos" was what he was calling his balls that week. Yep. They were "toasters" another week (He HAD to have heard me say "testicles", no?). "The wrong pipe" (ok I set him straight on what someone meant when they asked if something went down the "wrong pipe". Max immediately changed the word to "peanuts".) Even this phase has passed somewhat, and he now calls them "nuts", which is a common term for the hanging brethren. I have to tell him each time he uses that word that he should use "privates" because it's appropriate - when the inner child in me is screaming "NO!!! They aren't privates!! They are

NECTARINES!!!!!!!!"

Long live the language of our children. It keeps us on our toes.

My son the Shylark

2007-07-09T22:18:00.000-07:00

You know - making your kids aware of money and having them obsessed with money are two very different things. Max has been caryying around a PURSE for the past week, and is obsessed with earning a dollar here and there, and adding them to his collection of fake AND real dollars in his PURSE. His purse is a clear oval shaped bag which held his karate shoes at one time. I forget which cheap ass relative got him the fake Walgreens money which is about 1/3 the size of real money and is cheap paper so it has been in my dryer lint trap AT LEAST once per washload. Thanks - if you are reading this blog! My dog thanks you too, because she has ingested the OTHER half of the money that the washer didnt get. I have piles of dogshit in the yard with tiny little Ben Franklin faces peeking out. It's very disturbing.

*News Flash*Okay it's THIS bad - I just stopped blogging to cut down a picture of our dog to put in his wallet. (He outright rejected the photo of me that I offered him first. Well...Lady IS cuter...) He needs a friggin wallet now? What is he, someone's father?

So tonight the shyster is sitting with me on the couch, after I've worked 12.5 hours today, and came home, cooked a cake (Amish Friendship Bread! I've put more time into the frigging bread than into any of my actual friendships this week!) and when I finally relaxed, Max was up my ass as usual and so I put him to work. I asked him to scratch my back.

He hemmed and hawed, and finally, knowing he was a greedly little pecker, I offered him a dollar. He thought a second, and quickly said, "TWO dollars." I said "Ok but you do my back for TEN minutes and if you stop even ONCE you dont get the money."

Shame on me, I said this knowing that this is the kid who tires after 45 seconds of back scratching. That ten minutes must have been the longest of his life, but he did it - changed postions and hands like a hundred times, whined and counted the minutes, but he DID IT. Man that kid is greedy.

So I tell him he has to wait till the morning for me to get the money out of my purse, it's in the garage in my truck and the alarm was already set for the night. That didn't set too well with him, and he suggested that he take the money from his dad's POKER BUCKET. Like mother, like son, huh...I just got in trouble earlier that week for embezzling cash from that same bucket. So Max trots off into our bedroom, and comes back, gleeful.

"Hey! All he had was a ten!" and he ran upstairs to put it in his purse.

Like mother, like son.

DISCLAIMER

*for those of you who worry about my parenting habits you will be glad to know I DID make him put it back. AND I beat his ass. (ok kidding about the ass beating.) But it sounded better to end the story right there....

Happy Kids in The Summertime!

2007-07-08T11:18:00.001-07:00

OH THE JOYS OF BEING CAREFREE AND YOUNG!!!! Happy, Happy kids!

RIP, Mickey Mouse

2007-07-08T08:59:00.000-07:00

We've had a death in the family. We awoke yesterday, a sunny, scorching Arizona Saturday morning, expecting to take the kids to see "Ratatouille" and then go swimming at my mom's. I was very proud of myself for finding a 9:30 a.m. showing, so it would not interfere with our pool time. Well, Mike went to the craft room to do his monthly feeding and hamster cage cleaning, and he discovered that sometime during the wee hours, our beloved hamster Mickey Mouse #2, a female, had kicked the bucket.

The LAST time we had a hamster die, it was MIckey Mouse number 1, a violent anarchist of a rodent, who screeched angrily and bit anyone who dared approach him. I was constantly both disgusted and facsinated by his humungous testicles, which were so large that they looked like one of those fake asses someone puts on at Halloween, or something. He violated the "Hamsters are active at night only" rule by working out on his wheel obsessively both day and night. I was convinced he was preparing to kill one of us and escape into the wild, once and for all. HIS death only warranted an unceremonious wave from a terrified 2 year old Max at the trash can that contained his carcass, his cage, and - hopefully - his attitude.

In contrast to Mickey # 1, Mickey Mouse #2 was docile, sweet, and female, with all her genitalia safely contained INSIDE her furry little body thank God. Max and Lilly picked her out together, 2 and a half years ago at PetSmart, and since we've had her, she's been able to be interacted with, she's escaped and been caught a few times, (thanks to my husband the Great White Hunter-FINALLY a stalking activitiy that could be performed from the couch, TV still blaring!)and the kids even gave her a bath when they had a babysitter over. They caught hell for that when we got home though - hamsters are NOT bathers.

Back to yesterday. We break the news to Max, who brought us up a trash bag to dispose of the cage. (Yes we change cages with each new hamster. Would you sleep in a bed someone died in??) (I know - it's a rodent.)

Max immediately becomes PROSTRATE WITH GRIEF. While I had HEARD this term used, I had never seen it in action. He immediately starts scream-crying, face distorted, walking around aimlessly, mingling his cries with the word "mickey". So, me, admittedly not a pillar of sensitivity, hold him for a few seconds, try to tell him she's resting peacefully and we made her SO happy, two and a half years is a LONG time for a hamster to live (At the knowledge of her age - he screams again - "SHE WAS JUST A BABY!" WAHhhhhhh") it was pitiful. I began to question the wisdom of seeing "Ratatoullie" today, considering it was all about a rat. I had Max and Lilly say a prayer for Mickey, which Max calmed down enough to participate in. Max cried the entire time from the news of Mickey's death until we all got dressed, and went out to the desert outside our development to bury poor Mickey in her deluxe Ziploc Freezer bag. Somehow, Max had the presence of mind to dictate a card to Lilly (Being only semi-literate at five, he had Lilly do his difficult writing of sentences and such) that read "Dear Mickey: You were a greate Kalka. I will miss you. Love, Max"

We drove out to the biggest saguaro cactus we could find and commenced with the burial. Max made the critical error of opening the Ziploc and sniffing deeply. "EEW! She pooped!" "Don't do that!" I barkjed at him as I grabbed the bag. That's the smell of dead rodent! UGH." Sorry but that smell is very distinctive and CLINGS to things. I did not want it clinging to my warm, soft, sunscreen smelling child. Max, still PROSTRATE WITH GRIEF, lay his hands on the dirt that covered Mickey and bawled his eyes out. Thuis was like 45 minutes after we found out she died - he didnt spend THIS much time with her when she was alive.

So we finally pry him away from the grave (Lilly was very calm, almost detached from the whole process. She doesnt show a lot of pain. Maybe because of her dad dying when she was 2, maybe because her mom's a nut and until she came to live with us all she KNEW was pain, but anyway, she was very serene and supportive to Max.) and get in the car to go to the movies. I mention to Mike that maybe the movie isn't such a great idea because it's about a rodent. Peioridcally Max would wail extra loud from the backseat, which caused MIke and I to giggle, and look out our windows lest Max know what insensitive parents he really has...but come on...he was carrying on like a Baptist black woman at the gravesite of her son. Every wail made us giggle like kids in school who were afraid to get caught by the teacher...man, I felt like shit - here's my son, five years old, facing the most painful experience of his life to date, and it's all I can do to keep a straight face.

We did go see "Ratatouille" which was excellent by the way, and they even had some scenes of dead rodentia which did not seem to bother Max in the least. He seemed more concerned with how far away from us he could go down the row without us finally hissing "GET BACK HERE!" in the darkened theater. Luckily, we were one of about 6 families who showed up at the crack of dawn to see this movie, so no one was too bothered by the Wandering Mourner.

Not a word was mentioned about Mickey again until we were on our way home, at dusk, from my mother's, where we had spent the day swimming and barbecuing. Max said, in that quavery "I might cry if I don't get my way" voice, "Can we stop and say good night to MIckey?" so of course we had to. Mike stopped the truck by the big saguaro again, and the kids trudged over to the cactus, and spent a few moments with their beloved, dseparted rodent. I saw them squatiing next to the gravesite, and sat back in my seat in the truck, closed my eyes, tired from the sun and water, and emotion of the day.

My peace was shattered by Mike's alarmed yell. "Hey! Don't dig her up!"

Max wanted to hold her one more time.

DOCTOR DOCTOR GIMME THE NEWS....

2007-03-27T07:05:00.000-07:00

Okay so since I thought I was dying - and so you know how severe it has to be before I seek professional medical care - the term "seek medical advice" means calling my mom to ask if she thinks I need to start self medicating with the Mexican Amoxicillina we smuggled over the border six months ago. I was down with 102 degree fever Friday and much of Saturday, and by Monday I was coughing up bloody chunks of God Knows What out of my lungs. It took all my energy to walk up the stairs. I was dying! Dying hurts!

So after work Monday I decide to go to Urgent Care. It's 3pm and no one one was in there but me! Yay! I should be in and out in like....45 minutes!! There were 10 medical professionals just WAITING to see me and my withering, bleeding lungs...right?

I get ushered into a room right away. I was pleased to see that we walked right by a scale and no one asked me to get on (maybe they were afraid). I thought I saw the scale wince but it could have been the lighting.

The first person who came in was an Xray tech and she took my BP, temp, and pulse oximetry. Uneventful. I was feeling optimistic that I'd be home in time to catch Judge Judy at 4pm.

Then...HE came in. A very young, cute Latin type - with a breathing machine. He hooks me up to the nebulizer, calls me "Ma'am" a couple times (Thanks!) and says he will be back to check on me in a few. I breathe on the machine, it's full of albuterol which is basically a legal form of CRACK or something, it immediately makes me lightheaded and hyper. Rico Suave comes back in and he is carrying a blood collection kit. I eye him suspiciously. Since it's only him and I in the room, I know this is not a good sign. It means he is going to attempt to take blood from me. I don't like that, since my veins are notoriously shy. So, here I am, can't hold still because of the albuterol I am still sucking on, (though admittedly not sucking as vigorously now that my fantasies of Rico Suave in a bottom-scrub only have now been replaced with horrific visions of him ripping my vein out of my arm in frustration)

He asks me to flex. I do. He asks me to unflex. I do. I am a compliant patient if nothing else. No vein pops out, which I expected, so Rico moves my arm around, twisting my wrist at an unnatural angle, taps my vein some more with his fingers..Nothing. No ven, now how, no way. That didn't stop Rico!! He decided to find the vein with the needle instead!! After he excavated for about 45 painful seconds, I hissed, "IS THE BLOOD REALLY NECESSARY?!?" He smiled in what I am sure he maent to be a comforting way but it came across to me as "I dont know what I am doing but just let me continue injuring you a few minutes more." Finally, after trying BOTH veins in my right arm, Rico gets up and says, "Ok, lay down" (FINALLY! All that showy sucking on the nebulizer finally paid off, he noticed!!!) But no,...not for THAT....he tells me to lay on the bed...er...table, and dangle my throbbing right arm off the side. Not to be defeated by a vein, Rico strapped on the blood pressure cuff, and pumped, harder...harder..faster, faster, Oh Rico, please stop! "Is that tight?" he asked, concerned.

"NOt as tight as some jeans I wore in the 80's, honey!" I was so clever. "Wow!" Rico exclaims, "I was BORN in the 80's!" he shared, jabbing my now swollen and very tender vein with the needle. "We got money!" Rico practically chortles. This means my blood is finnally gushing into the little vial. Thank GOD.

Oh but it wasn far from over. Now that Rico and I have become such good friends, we went for my chest Xray, which he had to re-take 3 times. Now I know I have lungs, so I know it wasnt ME that time. I finally figured it out. Rico was cute...but that was it!

I paid my copay and got my medicine. I am NOT dying, unless Rico has managed to somehow permanently damage my vein. I have bronchitis.

Which means, I still have to do the laundry when I get home.

SUPER PARENT!!

2007-03-25T18:10:00.000-07:00

Did you ever congratulate yourself for some sort of superior parenting skills only to have it come back and bite you in the ass? Okay here's my one time: (ha!)
Last month, I put the kids on a chore chart process to earn their allowance, sort of a "pay for perfomance" culture in the household, not unlike the one we foster at the office I work in. Hmph. So for the first week or two, it worked like a charm...the kids were doing chores left and right, and only for the price of a quarter each chore!! Did your homework?? oh good! 25 cents! Did you brush your teeth? there's another quarter!! good Job Guys!! at the end of the week, one kid wanted a paycheck (finally my uber-cool "dogs playing poker" checks would be admired by someone who REALLY LIKED DOGS) and the other preferred cash (kind of a pain in the ass till I discovered the "break the $20 at the Whataburger AND get a jamoca shake!!" trick.. Woo hoo!! everybody wins!)and life was good. Teeth were smooth and breath was minty, rooms were clean, homework was done...ahhhh..Utopia.
I bragged to friends about the chore chart-quarter-pay-for-performance culture. I bragged to my mom (who I still wanted to impress even though I'm almost 40 now); to co-workers; oh it was SMUG PARENT TIME.
Then....the bite in the ass. Now when I ask for something to be done - I get the doleful, skeptical look - and the inevitable "So - is this gonna be another quarter?" when I ask for someone to help me unload groceries, or God Forbid, to open a door for me as I waddle up the stairs into the laundry room with a huge pile of stinky clothes.
Now, everything has a price. My son used to walk on my back every night (I have a bad back, ok??! He weighs 50 lbs and its a perfect alternative to Dragging my Ass to the chiropractor...) for free, for long time periods...till I got drowsy and we'd fall asleep holding hands, his five-year old hand in mine, me driftnig off to sleep thinking, what a perfect relationship my son and I have...
Now, he charges me a DOLLAR for four minutes of walking on my back. AND he does a crappy job. No doubt because the maniputlative, shrewd little sonofabitch is probably thinking of more ways to make money off his parents.
My beautiful, generous, kind, artistic niece Lilly who lives with us ALWAYS makes beautiful pictures of all of us, our house, hearts, flowers, etc...the other day she has a picture of people in poster paint and it was FABULOUS! I gushed over it - "Who's that? You! awesome..oh, is that Uncle mIke? Wow! I LOVE THIS!!" She smiles benignly...'You can have it, Michelle", her face more angelic than ever, "For a Dollar."