Crazy Thanksgiving

Why do I always look forward to holidays so much. To the point they are placed on a pedestal and the entire week prior revolves around said holiday. Decorations are key and are usually obsessed over. Obsessessions also include cleanliness of the home, perfectly dressed children, perfectly dressed mama, pets in holiday wear, manicured lawn, fire in fireplace, etc. I could go on forever about the mental pictures I place on holidays in my home.

With that being said, I achieved all of these things. The lawn guys manicured the lawn and it looked beautiful. Okay, so it's fall and the grass is dying but it looked like the perfect fall backyard. Complete with my husband in his Carhartt jacket frying a big ass turkey while holding a beer in his 'Hers' beer koozy. ('Hers' beer koozy has a naked Australian girl on the front in a seductive pose.) Hmmm, maybe this is why I try to have the perfect holiday dinners...to make up for my redneck husband? The decorations looked great. Fresh flower arrangements all around the super clean house. Fall wreath hanging above the lit fireplace. Nevermind the log covered with a million ants that Jas placed in the fireplace. Our guest said he could hear them screaming before they died a firery death.

Next come the kids in their cute little outfits. Bug wore khakis with a button down shirt and a sweater vest. Al wore a denim skirt with her mary jane panty hose and a shimmery holiday shirt. They looked so cute I could've puked from the sweetness of it all.

As our guest (Jas's friend from medical school - more later) arrived and saddled up to the snack bar for appetizers he said this, "I love kids. Your kids are adorable. I can't wait to have a family." As if on cue, Bug enters the room with pee streaming down both legs of his khakis and he's doing the 'pee walk' - both legs as far apart as possible while crying that he's peed his underwears. Yahtzee, there's my reality check.

I guess I should now explain about our guest. He's a friend of Jas's from medical school. I personally think he was the 'scouting party' to check out our family and report back to the others at school. If you know us then you know that my husband is not normal. He's funny but in a twisted way. He says off the wall things that many people might think but would never actually say out loud. He's fearless that way. So, after spending several months with my husband and his stories about our family these medical school friends have grown very curious about us. Hence, our one guest. The rest of the lab group had other plans. I think they were afraid.

Back to my Thanksgiving story. Once Bug peed his pants, the whole pretty picture I had in my head unravelled. Before dinner, Bug grabbed two forks off the table and stabbed my leg with one of them. Haa haa. It's a very good thing I wore jeans instead of the skirt I tried on. While eating dinner, our guest laughed a lot and loudly, Bug told him 'shut up!' and 'not so loud'. Thankfully, the guest couldn't understand Bug. Later while we were finishing dinner Bug crawled under the table to practice all of his curse words. I heard some new ones...oh damn it, well shit, crap, crap, CRAP, what the hell. I didnt' know he had added new curses to his current repertoire.

After dinner while cleaning dishes, I ran the disposal. I've used the disposal before without any problems or even a hint of a problem. So it was very surprising to me when the other side of the sink exploded and threw black gel crap all over the cabinets, the windows, the floor and (are you ready?) ME. I had black rotten food in my hair, on my face, on my elbow, and all over my white sweater. Could it get any worse?

I just can't wait to hear the stories from medical school about our guest's fun adventures with our family. I think he had a great time since he stayed until midnight. That's a good sign right? After the disposal incident I just gave up on the mental image, had a beer and laughed off the calamities.

Conversations with hubby

While driving home after a nice family day at the musuem and then a little shopping at REI, Jas and I discussed death and body burials. We didn't just nonchalantly began discussing burials. A news brief on 'Whose body do you have in that urn?' brought on the discussion.

"Burying bodies underground so they can rot creeps me out."
"I want to be cremated. Mostly so I don't take up space. And really, does it matter who is in the urn? How would you know anyway?"
"Where do you want your remains?"
"I'm taking yours to the Maldives. You should take mine there too."
"I'm going to leave you in that father rapin' mother stabbin' Dairy Queen we stopped at in West Virginia."
"I don't even like ice cream."
"I know. That's why I'm leaving you in the urinal."

Okay, can you guess which part of the conversation is mine?

Bad for business

Today I had a dental appointment, my first for this office. When I made the appointment, I asked for a Saturday explaining that I didn't want to bring my kids. First available for a Saturday was January/February. The receptionist pushed the appointment for Thursday, today. She also said there was no room for a stroller (to confine kids) but said they would be fine in the room. I've taken them with me to the dentist in Florida. It was fine. Everyone loved them, including the dentist who ALWAYS checked Bug's teeth for fun.

After checking in and filling out countless forms, the hygienist comes out and asked this, word for word, "So, who's going to watch your kids?".

My eyes widened. The other new patient's brows raised. I told her that I didn't bring a babysitter. Not bitchy at all, just me trying to hopefully ease HER bitchy factor.

She responded, "Well, they can't come into the room. I would be worried about bacteria if I were you. Plus you've got to have x-rays".

Okay, so now I'm seeing red because she assumes I'm not worried about bacteria and the health of my kids. Our previous dentist kept extremely clean rooms with individual TVs in each room to entertain patients and kids. We discussed the safety of kids in the exam rooms and they assured me it was not a problem. I trust them. They were friendly and encouraged FAMILIES and dental care. I worked in a dental office for several years. We always welcomed kids into the exam rooms so they wouldn't be afraid when it was their turn in the chair. We also kept clean rooms. Then I began to worry about the cleanliness of this office. It looked nice enough. Although 'Wendy' had shimmery eye shadow up to her brows...

While Wendy went back to get our room ready, I decided to leave. My reasoning...I don't want a complete bitch working inside my mouth. I've never been found of rude behavior and I don't have to give rudeness my money. I also couldn't imagine her working on my kids. Scary Mary.

Wendy comes back to take us to our room as we're coating up. I politely tell her that this office doesn't seem like a good fit for our family. The other new patient's eyebrow raised in appreciation of my non-bitchy response. -Which made me happy to know I was able to control myself while in the red zone. She began to argue with me! So I explained that when I made the appt. the person on the phone didn't think kids in the office would be a problem. Wendy said that was wrong of them. Kids were a problem. Now I see the office staff whispering angrily. I really don't need this.

We made our way to the door. Wendy bitch then asked if she could see the baby. WTF. Even the other guy in the waiting room had a WTF look on his face. I told Wendy bitch NO. And we left.

I called my sister after this episode to make sure I wasn't out of line. All she could say was that Wendy was lucky she wasn't there with me. I thought rudeness was bad for business. Am I mistaken? Would anyone else allow Wendy to clean their teeth?

Facebook claims too much of my day

I haven't blogged because I signed up with Facebook. It's an addiction. I think I might quit. This is why. Everything I do during the day pops into my head like this:
Rachael is...
doing laundry
talking to her mom
washing dishes
playing with the kids
hating life because of the laundry
having a bad hair day
talking to the dogs

I HATE the way I think about every little thing I do and how it might seem interesting to someone on FB. Ugh. I won't quit though. It's too much fun to see what everyone else does with their day.

FB claims so much of my time that I have chosen to ignore a strange noise coming from the basement. Thank goodness I have FB to blame otherwise I'd have to fess up to the spooky voodoo room that DOES NOT freak me out at all. It's just a half room under the basement only accessible by a ladder. The entrance to this room is near the ceiling of the laundry room and it's a three foot by two foot opening through the cinder block wall. It's creepy. I've never actually climbed up to look but I don't like it at all. #1 I'm claustrophobic. #2 It screams voodoo room. Jas and Bug did some man work in there a few weeks ago. Guess what...Bug loves this room and wants to make it his new playroom. Jas swears it's clean and would make a fun playroom when he's older. Which brings me to my next blog...WTF is up with men and their strange way of thinking? More to come...

It makes me wonder...

Only a life lived for others is a life worthwhile.
Albert Einstein


As a SAHM, I'm told all the time that I should appreciate this time with my kids. I get to see every single moment, the good and the bad. I'm in complete control of raising them, my way. I love it too, absolutely love it. My kids make every single day fun and something to look forward to. So why, why in the world is there a desire to do something more? Why do I feel like I'm not making a contribution to the working world? I wonder if it's because SAHMs are a dying breed. Or is it more likely that society tends to make stay at home moms feel like they are useless and not contributing?

I think I need to make some new friends or find a hobby. I did the unspeakable and sent an email to the Mom's club in this area. I didn't fit in with the club in Pcola but maybe here it will be different. We'll see.

My funny Bug

All week Bug has been saying, "Bote fo Mama". Which translates to Vote for Obama. So this morning I told him Obama won. And his reply..."Mama won? Two...threeeeee". I guess the age of three is too young to even slightly comprehend history in the making.