Maria's Random Rants

I watched the Legend Of The Guardians – The Owls Of GaHoole (2010) this past weekend. It’s a computer animated movie about a brave and faithful young owl determined to save the owl kingdom from a group of evil owls. I know, it sounds like the typical children’s movie plot, but it was a cute movie.

My favorite part was when Soren, the main character, is enroute to find the legendary owl warriors, a.k.a The Guardians. When Digger, one of the owls in his group, asks how far their final destination is someone answers from a distance, “When you’ve flown as far as you’ve can, you’re halfway there.” All Digger hears is, “You’re halfway there”.

I love that. Leave it to me to find some deep meaning in a kid movie about owls. It reminds me of all those moments you think you can’t do it anymore, but somehow you find a way to keep going. *Sigh* I’m the human being version of Soren. We both kick *ss! 

*Crooked smile and a wink* You, too, can be a great guardian one day. Some days I feel that good, today just might be one of those days.

Rolling credits…
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UhA05_FrUeg

I’ve got a tendency to rush through the morning barely checking to see what I look like in the mirror. I also don’t like to admit clothes don’t fit me anymore because 1) I’m cheap and don’t want to buy more clothes and 2) I hate to admit I’ve gotten bigger. I tell myself I’ll eventually lose the weight and fit the outfit again. Typical woman.

That’s just me, my chest might be busting the buttons off my blouse, but I’ll insist the top still works.  Poor buttons are always screaming they’re only a thread away from flying off, but I feign ignorance. And even if my zipper comes undone everytime I sit, I’ll keep wearing them. I’ve perfected the ‘check my zipper as I stand’ move.

Anyway, my office happens to be the second to last down a long hallway so I have to pass almost everyone’s office just to get to mine. Now one morning I came in nice and jolly, even stopped by a co-worker’s office to say hello but when I got to my office I realized that somewhere between the car, through the parking garage, past security, up the elevator, and down the office hallway my blouse had become almost completely undone and there I was with the right side of my chest just hanging out. Victoria’s Secret not such a secret anymore. Yes, yes, I did have a (too small) bra on but still.

My goodies were just hanging out for the world to see. I was horrified when I thought, “My God, my co-workers saw me like this!” I was like the office peep show only no nickel required.

Later that day I pulled aside that co-worker I stopped and chatted with in the morning. No way he didn’t notice my boob hanging out. He’s a real nice guy, pretty well mannered. I just told him point blank, “Hey, we’re friends, right? OK, well do me a favor, the next time you see me with any of my body parts fully exposed can you let me know so I don’t further embarrass myself.”

I think he felt a little uncomfortable and replied, “Well, I guess I was just raised not to say anything that would embarrass anyone.”

I threw up my hands. “Seriously, I’m a big girl. I can take it. I’d rather someone tell me that I look like an idiot early on instead of going through the day not knowing. Look, in exchange I promise to tell you the next time you’ve got a booger in your nose or your fly is open, OK? Deal? Still friends?”  Still uncomfortable, he finally agreed.

These days I’ve been wearing safety pins to keep my too small blouse buttons from popping off. Taping the inside of your blouse, just behind the buttons, with clear packing tape works just as well, but you give off a crinkling sound when you walk. When that happens I just smile and act like I’m trying to figure out what that sound is, too.

Rolling credits…
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=teB9twb5su4

I think I may be a bad mother. Last night I let the girls watch Why Did I Get Married, Too (2009) with me. One girl kept shaking her head saying “lots of hearts getting broken”. The other one was trying hard to keep up with who was having an affair with who.

“Mommy, who’s cheating, Diane or her husband?”

“Wait, but I thought they were the only couple not fighting?”

I had to point out that just because people don’t fight out loud doesn’t mean there aren’t problems.

After the movie ended they both shook their heads and commented in unison and disbelief, “That was too much drama.”

They were still discussing which woman had two husbands and why this morning.

Rolling credits…
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PnlYZ68ATOA

I smile at the sound of my children’s laughter. I hold my husband’s hand in the car. I read a book a week. Hold onto the small things, life is good more often than it is not.

Rolling credits…
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R6zNJ9hZHbw&feature=related

I woke up late this morning and forgot to give the girls money for lunch and their class shirt orders.  I was tempted to ask them to borrow money from one of their 9 year old friends, but my common sense got the better of me. Adding salt to the wound, one of the girls takes this opportunity to remind me this is exactly why I should give them their own credit cards like their friend Penny’s mom did for Penny. Umm, yeah, if I had Penny’s mom on speed dial, I’d tell her to bite me.

*Yes, of course, I changed the young girl’s name. I don’t need other parents knowing I’m shaming them in cyberspace.

My husband takes pride in our front lawn. He tries to keep it trimmed and waters it lovingly by hand to keep it green. It’s his thing. Although I don’t really like it, my husband has a tendency to water the grass in his shorts, sometimes with his shirt off and baring all of his middle aged man glory. Yes, you have permission to laugh with me.

Taylor, the baby, complained about it for weeks. “Why can’t Daddy keep his shirt on? Why does Daddy have to mow the lawn like that? He’s almost naked, Mommy, who does that? None of our neighbors do that.”

I had to patiently remind her that most of our neighbors don’t even mow their own lawn, they have landscapers. Since we can’t afford one, she’d have to cut Daddy a break.

She still wasn’t happy so I had to ask her, “What’s the big deal, Taylor?”

In complete exasperation she answered, “Daddy has man boobies!!”

Last weekend I had a mini panic attack because my sweetheart of a dog, Hogan, woke up one morning and wouldn’t stop slobbering. Poor guy only weighs about 4 lbs, but there he was drooling 10% of his body weight every 60 seconds.

A soaking wet towel and one hour later I rushed him to the vet. I was afraid he’d gotten into some cleaning agent I’d accidentally left out, but as it turns out it was more likely he’d just licked a frog. Apparently, when a dog licks a toad or a frog the dog foams at the mouth and drools for HOURS until it gets the nasty frog skin toxins out of its system.

As to where the frogs came from, well, whenever there are heavy rains the creek behind our house  overflows and the following week dozens of frogs start popping up; in our driveway, by our front door, in our garage. Each night there’s even a frog gathering by the street light. Those guys seem to pay homage to bright lights.

Out of curiousity, I pulled out my Merck Manual of Medical Information to find out what happens to humans when we lick a live frog. (By the way, heck yeah I have one of those books at home. I self diagnose all the time. I’m a self admitted hypochondriac.) I couldn’t find anything useful, so I turned to the internet, Wikipedia to be exact, because we all know that Wikipedia is completely credible, right?

No luck there either so I just started scrounging the internet in general and according to several equally credible sites (ask.com, answers.yahoo) humans experience hallucinigenic episodes when licking frogs. Huh..I know, who knew, right?

Rolling credits for the day.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aD7Mzpw2Ga4

A couple years ago someone commented I might be manic depressive. In response, I called him a prick and a few other names I’ll refrain from typing. But, truthfully I think I might be semi-manic depressive. I mean, have you read my rants?? My writing?? That right there is evidence of my mania. Life of the party one minute and the next someone’s asking me if I need a therapist.

In my defense, I’ve got a sh*t lot on my plate and when I’m not on point, it gets to me. The bills, the business, the kids, work, school. THAT’S A LOT, PEOPLE. You can’t blame someone who has a load like that for wanting to slit her wrists every once in a while. NOT THAT I EVER WOULD. Good Lord, I’ve got too many people depending on me to do anything that selfish.

Maybe you can relate. One minute it’s all good, at least you thought it was. Then you get a call, or an email, or a letter advising you of something you need to do or pay. Or you remember a deadline that you’ve been dreading and then the butterflies you were just feeling suddenly start to feel more like a stomach ulcer. The letters on the page seem to swim in front of you, nothing anyone is saying makes sense, and now you need a drink or an aspirin or both.

You want to b*tch or cry, but you know neither will help and you can’t afford the time anyway. And what you wouldn’t do to get back the five minutes just before you realized everything was falling apart.

Rolling credits song for the night.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IL_CLJ76LpI&feature=fvst

I was up until 2AM last night huddled over my college algebra book working out functions. I have (re)discovered that a ‘domain’ is not just an upscale shopping plaza in Austin, a ‘transformation’ is more than what I do on the days I put on my make up and care to fix my hair, and ‘fx’ is not just the channel that airs my CSI reruns.

*Sigh* I am eating and pooping algebra these days. I dropped off our Inifiniti I35 at the mechanic’s this morning and when he asked me what model it was I actually told him it was a “g(x)”.

I saw the most stunning guy. He served me my ice cream at McDonald’s. Good grief, is this what’s happening? Are our beautiful men ending up in the fast food business? This is terrible. What’s the world coming to when a single girl has to find McDreamy at McDonald’s? I wanted to shake the guy and tell him, “Tell me you’re only doing this while you get through school. Tell me you’re just a starving actor or model waiting for your next gig. You can do better than this! Find an older sugarmama or sugardaddy, whatever, just don’t waste your beauty behind this counter, buddy. Come on now.”

But of course, in the meantime I plan on coming here everyday at this same time to get my ice cream and enjoy the view while it’s here.

Rolling credits for the night.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nq4aU9gmZQk

If we had a family handbook this is what the section pertaining to eating out would look like.

When ordering Mommy takes the lead. If she orders water, that means we have a tight budget, we all order water. If she orders iced tea, everyone can order a soda. If she orders anything with alcohol, wait till she finishes off her 2nd drink, and then, kids feel free to order whatever you want as long as you leave mommy alone to enjoy the rest of her drinks.

Now the rules slightly differ when eating at a fast food restaurant. Mommy still takes the lead and if she orders a small soda everyone else can order a small soda and just get refills, but if she orders a super sized drink that means no one else orders a drink because all seven of us will be sharing that one large drink and just keep getting refills.

Prior to arriving at any buffet restaurant, be sure to familiarize children with their temporary age for the evening. Example: At Golden Corral the girls are 7 NOT 10 and Jr. is 11 NOT 14 because that way we get to recognize the child and young adult prices. Different restaurants vary the age and price break down so it’s important to check those out on their website before actually walking into the restaurant.

If we’re not at a buffet, it isn’t pay day, or Daddy hasn’t just come back from a show, then no, we can’t order any appetizers or desserts.

Before leaving the table be sure to grab any unused disposable items such as, condiment packets, sugar, jam, straws, and napkins. Just throw them in mommy’s purse and we’ll use them at home.

Lastly, when leaving a restaurant it’s important to do a head count. When traveling with such a large group you want to make sure you haven’t forgotten any of the kids. Helpful hints: if either of the girls are missing check the self serve ice cream section because they may be grabbing a cone to go and if you can’t find my brother always check the bathroom. He can never wait until we get home.

My husband goes out of town once a month for business. Last time he was gone I had to take the girls to the dentist and afterwards they asked to go shopping. I told them no. This is the tattletale text message Taylor sent her dad.

“Hi daddy. I miss you so so so so so much. Mommy is being mean. She will not take us shopping. Please give us money in the bank. Make sure you write To Taylor and Kayla NOT Mommy. OK bi bi and dont tell Mommy.”

I don’t care what anybody says. I Am A Rock Star. At least in my car I am. In my car I can blast the radio and belt out notes like I’m Mary J. or Keisha Cole. I’m the singer, the backup, and the dancers, the whole kit and caboodle. You oughta’ see me, bobbin’ my head, swinging my shoulders and hips like I Am Something. And when I’m really feelin’ it I throw on my shades so I can look it, too. Yup, I am a rock star, don’t even try to tell me different. And when the whole clan is in the car; kids, dogs and all – well, hot damn,  now it’s a family affair. We’re like a modern day Jackson Five.  Not my husband though. I think he thinks he’s too cool. Plus he’s always grumpy. So I guess he’s more like Joe Jackson, our mean manager.

Rolling credits for the night.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xchbdOTn6HI

An oldie but goodie from my pre-blogging days.

I was telling my friend about the pills I’ve been taking that seem to halt any brainwaves triggering the usual hunger pangs in my tummy. He was amazed. He wanted to know why I would take such crazy pills. I told him to try being a woman.

The moment we feel our beauty slip away most of us women would do anything to get that feeling back, the one that tells us when we walk into a room people take notice. I don’t care what we don’t admit out loud, but there’s a security in knowing you have a pretty face. That may sound superficial but unfortunately I’m just not strong enough to be satisfied with my “inner beauty” alone, although I wish I was. I’m a product of society’s shameful desire to give favor to beautiful things.

Its silly, I know, but I miss walking down the street and turning heads. I miss a great fitting pair of jeans. I miss wearing colors other than black. I miss pants that don’t unzip when I sit down. I miss looking in the mirror and seeing a sexy version of the old me.

That’s my rant. Random thoughts that stream through my mind when I’m sitting and waiting around.

**Disclaimer: I do not condone diet pills at all. I wrote this during one of my not using my head so well phases. That phase is over.