Monday, June 27, 2005

Gabe wins award for best writer

I can't beleive I forgot this!! Gabe got an award for BEST WRITER IN HIS CLASS. Now that felt good! I'm so proud of him. He is reading and writing so well. Last night he read a really long book and I sat in astonishment at the words he could sound out. Garage. Sleepyhead. Searched. Also, his end of the year report card had him at surpassing the "Ready for first grade" level. That's up from "almost at Kindergarten level" in social studies and math. Everyone give Gabey a hand. Or money for college, that'll work too.

She's a super cleaning freak yeeeeeeeeooowwow

I have become obsessed with clean. My house is in a perpetual state of perfection. The plants are gettting watered on a regular basis. Each picture frame dusted. Arranged for maximum viewing pleasure. Dishes are washed and either in the dishwasher or stacked neatly in the cupboard. Children's toys are out, yes, but in a Pottery Barn photo shoot kind of way. AND THEN...

My bathroom. sigh. It's, what's the word I'm looking for, a toxic waste dump. There's three words for you. I really don't know what my psyhcological block is to keeping my bathroom clean. After all it's the most disgusting place in the house right? It's where we do all of our dirty work. Maybe it's because I don't spend much time in there LOL!!!!!! uggghh I crack myself up.

Here's the awful truth folks. I think if a number of subjects I want to write about each day and as soon as I sit down to my computer they fall out of my head and I just check my email and walk away. I could tell you how my neighbor and I are now getting along but I think she is using me to vent on about the third party in our Wisteria Lane triangle. Or I could tell you about my OTHER neighbor who I am terrified is going to touch my kids innapropriately after she told me she "can't say she wasn't touched by her father" ew. I really didn't want to know that. Or maybe I did...Or I could tell you about my OTHER neighbors who clean as a TEAM! and I think it's really sad. Or I could tell you how it took me WEEKS to make a decision to book my tickets to Seattle because I went over and over in my head whether I wanted to a) spend the money b) lug my poor kids around from family member to family member when I really think they should come to me (sorry families I do think that) because it's a lot to ask an 18 month old to sit on a travel for ten hours and not piss anyone off. But then again I know they all have kids to and I want my babies to know their family so I go. c) possibly miss Terry's last day in the states. That was a big one but he encouraged me to go.

So what else? I have centipends crawling into my basement. That's gross and freaks me out. I assault them with bug spray and squeal like a baby pig then let it rot until it's carcass is hard and brown and then squeal like a baby pig while I use Gabe's light saber to scoop it onto a very long piece of paper and toss it outside. I stand over it and say, "take that you bastard and tell your friends what happens when you enter my domain" woohhahahahahah.

My friends blog was talking about her body issues you absolutely must read. Every woman, especially those of us with kids, will nod their heads at the screen and say yes, yes I feel that way too!

You know I just had a thought. Random I know. But instead of torturing Iraqi prisoners we should just get them really really loaded. Everyone spills their dirty secrets when they're drunk. My neighbor. Me. My friends. Me. So that's what I'm going to write the President about. Liquor for the extremists. Nothing says American like Budweiser baby!

Friday, June 24, 2005

An apology to my readers

So maybe my last post was true, but still, you were all victims of me Writing While Intoxicated. In my defense, it wasn't intentional. I was wine tasting with a neighbor and didn't realize how much tasting I had until I got up and my head went for a swim. I, in true drunken form, sat down to write and you saw the results. It ain't pretty people ;)

I want....

I miss him and want him home. I want Friday's when he would have the day off and we would splurge on Starbucks and go grocery shopping. I want Sunday's when we would shop for churches and wonder if the people were part of a cult, stifling laughter during worship. I want arguments over who makes dinner and changes Asher's diaper and gets up with the boys. I want to hear the key in the lock at 6pm and little boys' feet running to the door. I want family vacations, birthday parties, anniversaries, dinner with friends, honey do lists, up at dawn with sick kids (yes even that), make ups and lazy Sunday mornings. I want my husband back.

Wednesday, June 22, 2005

Cheesecake, my love

I just ate enough cheescake to equal an entire day's calories. Is that bad? Is this what they call a 180 from marathon training? Hmmmm.... wonder what Oprah's trainer would say about that? It's only midnight...

Well, to hell with it. The good thing is that there is NO ONE around to care that I'm going to get fat. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. AND there are no old boyfriends to make jealous at my reunion. AND I'm not 30 yet so my metabolism is still sort of kicking at a high enough rate that I can get away with this. AND I don't eat all day because I'm too busy feeding my boys (who, incidentally are going through growth spurts and eating everything in the house) so again, I can get away with it. sigh. ain't life grand?

Tuesday, June 21, 2005

baby baby

I had so much fun with my sistas! Also below are pictures from Gabe's school play.

Gabe and Jacob

having fun

Isn't she lovely?

Field Day!

Gabe's school play

Thursday, June 16, 2005


The low after a sugar high. The morning after a drunken binge. Facing a credit card balance after a shopping spree. Crash. That's how I feel.

My sisters whom I love 100x more after this trip, left yesterday. Today was the loneliest day since Terry left. Perhaps more, because I know what to expect. I met my sisters again for the first time. Johanna is only 13, but we finally connected as sisters. And that's been difficult considering I have a different father and was pushed out of the nest when she was three years old. Jamine is just all over the map. Trying to stay in touch with her is like tracking down fleas in a snow storm. But we all just bonded and I hope it sticks. We ate good food, laughed a lot, danced around the living room, fought (hello we ARE sisters) and made up with dinners and movies. We talked about our greatest fears and what we will do to dispel them. It was cool.

And now I'm alone again.

I'm up late, drinking wine, eating cheesecake and licking my wounds. I don't know if I can stay here. The people here are weird. My neighbors are reclusive freaks, tempermental blondes, and chain smokers. Ok there are some normal people, but you know there's nothing like a friend who knows you as well as yourself.

I am having lunch with another soldier's wife. Her husband isn't in Terry's deployment group, but they met at a pre-training thing (there are a thousand steps to everything in the Army). She seems sweet and I look forward to meeting her in person. When we planned the "date" I choose a day that Asher is in day care (yes! finally found hourly care so I can have a break) and whenever I do that the response on the other line is, "Oh I don't mind if the kids come." To which I want to reply, "I do." But not knowing most of these people, that would make me sound like a very mean mom. So anyway, we're having lunch at the area's hotspot, Panera Bread. Good grief there is no other place to have lunch apparently. It's yummy but very trendy I think. That and you have to pass by a bunch of oogling construction workers, which you think wouldn't be a problem what with my unkept hair and baby in the stroller. Nevertheless, my pursuit of friendship continues.

Sometimes I can see the ticker tape in the brain of the person facing me, "She is talking so much, when can I interrupt without sounding too obviously freaked out?" Then I abruptly stop and they try to cover their relief with a smile and nod of interest. I know this because I do it too. Today was sort of one of those days. A person and I were talking about the various kids in the neighborhood, who was good, who was headed straight for jail, you know the usual banter, and this came out of her mouth: "Now those black kids across the street are nice." Now, what is wrong with that statement? It was a compliment afterall right? Why aren't they just the kids across the street? They are the ONLY kids across the street and none of the other kids were labeled. The white kids, the mixed kids, the poor kids, the BLACK kids. Anyway, irked me.

Finally, one last gripe about stereotypes and sexism. I wore a very cute, white halter top one day (it's like a thousand degrees out here, the devil is thinking about relocating) and took Gabe to his tball game thinking nothing of it. Once again, the male sex reminded me that there is no such thing as evolution. They remain the bumbling, groping, testosterone pumping animal who must take every opportunity to look at a woman's breasts. (I think it's like their gas or something) A man who I actually know, slid up next to me during our conversation, so damn close I thought he was going to whisper something about another team mate. If only. After he spoke in a very audible voice I realized what was happening. He was making a not so subtle pass at my chest! HELLO! I stepped away after my brain caught up with my instincts.

p.s. Crash is a movie you should see. Race in L.A. like you've never seen. The best movie I've seen this year. Also, Batman Begins is awesome and scary and after a few seconds looking at Katie Holmes you forget she is dating I AM GOD Tom Cruise.

Sunday, June 12, 2005

Ho sista, half sista

Those are my sisters' new terms of endearments dubbed by me of course. I've been out of commission because we've been having so much fun! We went downtown to see the sights, went at night to visit the memorials, today we went to the National Gallery of Art and the Aquarium. The Aquarium was a major dissapointment. It was ONE room of fish tanks, and some sad (perhaps dead), small alligators. Really good web writers though. We were expecting much more. If any of you ever make it out here, go to Baltimore's Aquarium. It's much much cooler.

We saw Mr. and Mrs. Smith. It was clever, sexy and funny. I don't know why critics slam it. They probably are just jealous of Brad Pitt. If there was no hype about their personal lives it would probably have received better reviews. It was a work of fiction and it was a great escape movie so I loved it.

So I'm running with the wolves again (Marie) and their bite is back. I was snubbed for an evening out after I emphasized how I wouldn't get to go out again for a while when my sisters leave and take the free babysitting with them. So, I quit. No more invites or friendly visits to their place. I will be cordial and try my best not to be rude to their terribly behaved children. This female dawg has found a new pack.

Terry gets leave! Yay! I'll see him for five days at the end of the month. I'm so excited! Hope everyone is well.

Friday, June 03, 2005

Letting go

How do you let go of someone you love? How do you quarantine the worry you feel for someone but whose life often temporarily consumes your own thoughts to the point you feel crazy? I'm not talking about Terry but another family member who will remain nameless although some of you can probably guess.

I now know that all families are dysfunctional in some way, but I really think mine takes the cake. I get so wrapped up in their problems that I can't think about anything else. It's like an obsession to fix, or at least Band-Aid whatever urgent need they have no matter what it costs me. Why do I care so much about people I see maybe once a year and who call me rarely? Is it an attempt to fix myself? To wash the stain of their issues from my legacy? I know people who are able to say, it's their problem not mine, but I just can't do it. The only way I can talk myself down is if I appeal to my logic. There's nothing I can do. There's no point in wasting energy and worry on a matter I cannot control, nor should I try. It's not my place. It's not my problem. Period. It's logic, but is it right? How far are we expected to go to help people?

If anyone has that book, "The Answer to All Life's Questions" I'd like to borrow it please.

Wednesday, June 01, 2005

Sick and tired

Well folks, I don't know if it's karma or just plain luck, but I've been sick for the past two days, enjoying my pounding head, a nose clogged up with snot and a fresh mettalic taste in my mouth,which has caused me to eat anything with a stronger power such as ice cream and popcorn. Today my sisters come to visit, which I'm now looking forward to just so someone can take care of me! I hope the boys don't get sick.

Terry's been sounding down lately. He's just tired of being there and wants to start his tour and get it over with. But he reaffirmed to me his belief in their mission, and wants others to know that. We talk almost everyday and try to talk about things other than Iraq.

Gabe recieved a very nice letter from Terry's friend from law school who is at Abu Ghraib prison. He did a great job of painting a nice picture of Iraq, to calm Gabe's fears about it. Gabe's been doing really well though. Once in a while he'll ask a question about when we get to see daddy again, and gets frustrated that I don't have an answer yet, but overall he just talks about helping me and going to Disneyworld when he gets back! He's been a big help too. He cleans up toys and clothes and stuff like that, I wish he could drive! :)

I'm sooooo excited to get my new bed. The BED of all BEDS a Tempurpedic. I've been waking up with the worst upper back and neck pains, I just couldn't take it anymore and the next day I checked my mail and right on top was a deal I couldn't resist. So they're delivering, taking away my old mattress and I get a free pillow! yay! I'll let you know if it's worth the investment...stay posted.
Well, not much else to report.