clickmom

klepto me too

I fought back the tears the whole 2+ hour drive to Matt's camp this morning. This past week I felt like a caged tiger just pacing the cage waiting for an opportunity to burst out an unattended door. I wanted my kids back. Waiting was rough. When I slid into the truck this morning I had the feelng that once I got my babies back I would be me again (still not exactly feeling like myself) I felt like I was about to get a crucial part of myself, of who I am back.

The missing part of me might not have taken shower since he last saw the rest of me two weeks ago at visiting day.

I fought back the tears all the way home because to be honest the part of me that came home from camp was downright pungent. My missing piece also managed to neglect his hair again, and somewhere he decided that he might as well not shave for the entire camp experience. Yummy! And to think, just 24 hours ago I wondered if my piece would let me hug him as much as I wanted to! Hahahaha, the joke is on the part of me that showers!

My missing piece hasn't stopped crying since he left camp either. Since me, the unmissing, took a thorough shower this morning before departure I knew it had to be for a different reason. I assumed it was because camp was so incredibly excellent that my missing piece was sorry to see it end. He said that was correct. Except my missing piece couldn't shake the tears, didn't want to eat (okay, he does have a little head cold) and couldn't muster the enthusiasm to think of anything he wanted to do. Hmmmm

After my missing piece showered I sat him down for another big dread lock comb out. During the comb out, when I had to give him a break so he could sob for a minute, I figured that this was more of a broken heart scenario than an "I love my camp!" break down so I asked him if he had a girlfriend at camp. He said he did. And he had this girlfriend the whole time, well except for the last week because his 17 year old (YES! 17!!) girlfriend got to go on this trip because she was not a camper but a CIT and she got caught shop lifting on a trip for CITs and then her parents took her home and wouldn't let her come back. So I asked him if aside from being a kleptomaniac if she was a nice person and he said she was. And also that she wrote to him from home.

So let's review: 15 year old Matt has a 17 year old girlfriend.

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Sorry, I passed out on the key board there.

Okay, where were we, Matt's 17 year old girlfriend shop lifts.
.
Oy Vey.

But Matt she is a quality person.
Who shop lifts.
On a camp trip.

The good news is that Matt's 17 year old klepto girlfriend lives 2 hours away.
.
The bad news could be that she might have a drivers license.

I am so not ready for this.

But here is a confession; When I was 16 my parents sent me on a teen tour. I hated it. The one thing that got you immediately kicked off the tour was shop lifting (and having sex but the 7 little boys on that tour with me (the virgin) were not an option). So I shop lifted my way across the United States in hopes of getting sent home. I never got caught even I slipped something into my pocket while talking to the sales lady. I must be a more talented thief than Matt's girlfriend. Hopefully she'll outgrow it too.

5 reasons I feel weird

1. I had to tell the nursing home nurse that scumcle was not right in the head and she admitted to me that he had made a big scene during a recent visit and refused to understand why grandma can not walk. He hauled her out of the wheel chair to make her walk and the staff was all sure they were both going to end up on the floor. He only remitted when the nurse promised that she would get the physical therapist to call scumcle and help him understand grandma's condition.

2. I came home today to pick up Matt tomorrow and Evan on Sunday. Josh stayed in utopia. He is going to stay with two different friends over the 3 days I am gone. I am kidless.

3. I keep sneaking foods I am allergic/intolerant to like donuts and ice cream. I want the comfort foods. I spend almost as much time in the bathroom as I do peering into the fridge. Eating all this crap isn't working. I don't have any other tricks up my sleeve for feeling better. I don't know what to do.

4. In my real home there is nothing to sweep. At first it was a great relief but now I am beginning to feel twitchy and uneasy.

And numero 5. I got a condolence letter from the good doc today. He signed it "Love, Dan"

romantic dinner for 5

First off, if you know why mosquitos always go for the tops of my feet please tell me while I still have a layer or two of skin left that I haven't scratched off.

Next off, I am about as close as one can get to having a nervous breakdown over the amount of construction soot the devil can drag into the house in her fur every 6 minutes when she exits and reenters the house with out actually being admitted to the looney bin. My sweeping blister is now a full fledged sweeping callous. And I might have an injured rotator cuff injury due to the aggressively sticky nature of the wet clumps of dirt the devil leaves in her wakes. Seriously! It's like finding little gray magic sand castles all over the floor. Even when I try to block off rooms with stray hunks of cardboard. She still manages to destroy!

My utopian friend came over to hang with her kids this afternoon and afternoon turned into evening which turned into "Ooops, I guess the kids need dinner, huh?" So we ended up at a mexican place. At 9:30. I know, I can't believe it either, ME the bed time drill sargent sitting in a restaurant with my 7 year old at 9:30! And guess what happened around 10. The power went out! So for a while we munched by the light of my trusty iphone. Then the waiter brought what (curiously enough for a mexican restaurant) appeared to be a sabbath candle stuck to a dessert plate. And when we asked to pay for the tasty gas inducing bean laden cuisine, the waiter said his calculator couldn't handle our big order and suggested we leave a credit card with him and come back and anti up tomorrow. Hahahaha. Can you imagine? The waiter couldn't add up 5 entrees and a couple of sodas. This country is going to hell in a hand basket folks, seriously. So I whipped out my trusty iphone and added it up myself. I gave him a generous tip in the hopes that he will sign up for some kind of remedial math class, but I won't hold my breath.

Does anyone else remember the old days when cashiers not only had to know how to add but they also had to make change without looking at the register to do the math for them? Remember when supermarkets had to put prices on the food so the cashier could type it all in? One digit at a time? I feel old tonight.

knob

My dad, because maybe he is testing the strength of my heart tonight, told me that scumcle called him and told him that when he went to see grandma she told him that she was "bored and unstimulated" at the nursing home and wanted to "break out." Scumcle is worried that she not being intellectually challenged. Dad, being the good dad that he is said something to put scumcle in his place (go dad!) but still, what a shit head scumcle right? I wish I could just forget about scumcle and never hear from him or about him again. But I would still want my statue back.

I took Josh to hang out at lil sis's today. In a uncharacteristically stupid and harmful move Josh decided to drop half filled with water plastic pail on my 9 year old nephew's head. What's that word for a big head bump? According to my thesaurus any of these will do: lump, knob, swelling , protuberance, bump and burl. And I think burl is only something you get on a tree, but I stuck it in that list because of how the word just kind of flows off my tongue like sweet dessert liquer. Buuuurl. It seems quite fitting actually. If there was a medal for speedy head buuuurl formation my nephew could have gotten the gold. Because no sooner did the sickening sound of weighted plastic colliding with skull hit my ears than did the neph call out "Oww! I have a bump!"

And he was knot kidding. (guess who is getting tired as she types tonight!)

OMG folks, I though the kid was going to go all airhead commercial on my because that thing got swollen fast. Lil sis commanded me to run for ice, which I did and thankfully it all unswelled pretty fast too. Man, I hate being the mom of the kid that did the idiotic thing. It doesn't happen often, but when it does, it sucks! And Josh, who normally does not put himself in the position of needing to apologize finds it very difficult to choke those magic words out. He almost got his own little mommy special delivery protuberance because he did not cooperate in the apology part of the after party but fortunately he did eventually choke out a lame- apology along with a whisper of a "I didn't mean to hurt you." Just in the nick of time.

When the husband's visitors came last weekend one couple brought their almost 7 year old daughter. I sat Josh next to her at dinner in hopes of getting them friendly. Finally the pretty young thing turns to Josh and coyly says "I have a lot of clothes." (hair flip) Josh sees her wardrobe and shoots back with a "I have a lot of video games." Ooouch, score points for 21st century technology! So pretty young thing, not to be out consumered by a lowly prepubescent male offers up an all encompassing "I have a lot of toys." Josh, not one to beat around the bush leans forward on his elbows and stops her dead in her tracks with this come back of the week: "So, tell me, exactly where are we going with all this?"

it's for the fish eggs

When I packed up grandma's apartment (the first time) back in 2/2006 so that I could move her to the OFH near me, I packed up two cartons of kitchen stuff to bring up here to utopia. Well, I did bring those two cartons here to utopia and they quietly sat in the corner being ignored by me until today. Honestly, I would have contentedly ignored them for the rest of the summer, but a carpenter guy had to prepare that room for a built in book case in and I had to take the stuff out of it. So I did.

And I lugged the two cartons of kitchen stuff over to the kitchen and hauled them onto the kitchen island and I even opened them and took all the carefully wrapped in year and a half old newspaper stuff out of those cartons. There were old lady drinking glasses, old lady, roaster pans and old lady serving trays. I was pretty excited to see some of the handier cooking stuff, and can even remember grandma teaching me how to bake a brisket in her roasting pan or fry some liver for chopped liver in her frying pan.

There was an inordinate amount of curious in origin old lady tools and gadgets, most of which could, with a little imagination, be used in the bedroom by someone such as an irate woman on her unsuspecting husband's tender man parts, which I proudly displayed along with demonic gaze and evil laughter for both the husband and the good natured contractor. You know, just in case someone needs incentive to stay in line. Just in case.....

And also, it seemed that grandma, during her power purchasing days, had a thing for teeny tiny itty bitty stuff. There were teeny tiny forks (lobster?), itty bitty bottle openers, and a diminutive little frying pan. Half an egg anyone? Much to my surprise I spotted what appeared to be 4 minute gold plated coke spoons. And I thought "Wow, grandma! You wild child!" And then I realized that those coke spoons were more than likely caviar spoons, and I snickered at the thought of the grandma that I know today eating caviar and I put them back in the box for safe keeping.

slouch

The visit is over. And it went quite well, I think. Naturally the visitors were all thanking us and saying nice things about the house on their way out today. But really I think it was all good.

The two visiting wives admitted to not actually really making food. One said that she merely warmed up pre-made frozen foods (except for when she said she gave her kid home made waffles. from a mix. which to me is not homemade.) and the other one said she cooked, but didn't use recipes or anything , she said all her food was bland. The two women compared "recipes" which included things like caned soup and cake mix. I almost gagged. But I always suspected that those mothers with the totally spotless kitchens didn't actually ever cook. This I totally do not get because I love to cook. Ah, well, yeah duh! I love to eat. I love to find an interesting recipe, chop up some good tasting herbs and prepare something that tastes good and is good for us. I better remind the husband how lucky he is tonight. I think I will. Over and over. I can't believe people don't cook. That is freaky. People do not make their own food. Wow.

In other visitor related news, the two visiting couples each brought me some nice little housewarming gifts. One brought some cakes and some cool itsy bitsy individual guest soaps. I really liked the soaps. The other couple brought some high end oil thing and a plate set to serve it on so we can dip bread in oil or something. I'm not getting all happy thinking about dipping gluten free rice cakes in oil, so that will be a guest related activity and not a daily dinner routine. I'm not 100% sure about it, so I'll probably serve it up to my (guinea pigs) babes the next time I invite them over, but the plates were like the totally perfect color for our house AND they came in a cute little metal framey thing holder, so I have to figure out where I can put them so they are visible since me and decorative bric a brac are not destined to meet, I have to take advantage of this charmed gift.

Anyway, about the gifts.... I realized that I have atrociously bad manners, no not manners, I have atrociously bad etiquette. I in all likely hood would not have brought me a gift. And if I did decide that I needed to bring me a gift I would have had absolutely no idea what to bring. Here is something I now I should be ashamed of but am not really .... thank you cards. I don't force my kids to write thank you cards (like the forced ones we get from every party my kids attend) after parties and stuff. I know, kill me now. I have good intentions every single time, I have stacks and stacks of unused thank you notes in every theme from Dora to Dino to Spiderman. They aren't even opened.

I'm a slouch. Except in the kitchen. Maybe I should just bring something cooked!

first guests

Last winter when we thought for sure the house would be finished (hahahaha) by now and I told the husband he should invite some friends up to the lake this summer. I certainly invite mine up, and I wanted him to share the incredible that is this lake experience with some one(s) too. So the husband mentioned it to two of his work buddies.

And now we are living on a construction site instead of the completed version I fantasized about all winter.

And on last Monday the husband reminded me that this weekend was the weekend that he had invited the friends up for. And we didn't know what to do about it. We thought that maybe if he didn't bring it up they had forgotten, so we went with that plan. 24 hours later the husband calls me up and tells me that the friends did not forget. Damn! I said he should tell them they have to wear mud boots when they walk down to the lake for a swim. Didn't phase the friends. I told him to tell them advance about the dog as dirt agent and they have to take off their mud boots before entering the house but they'll likely be walking barefoot on dirty dog floors in the house anyway. Didn't phase them. BBQ not hooked up yet? Piece of cake. Vehicles will appear to have off roaded it for the weekend? No bother. Wife alternating between psychotic and morose states of mind? Hey, there is enough wine for a guest to cope.

So, two couples and one kid are showing up today. sigh. I am so not in the mood. Instead of putting clean linens on the beds and running around preparing I would much rather sit on the porch in my typical brain dead position and watch the little scooper thingie drive around bringing gravel and sand to the guys who are doing the lakeside patio.

I am keeping calm by remembering how much I like one of the wives. Also, at least they are only staying for one night.

PS please notice that I am posting this at 6Am. The husband woke me up at 5AM when he couldn't sleep. Now he is heavy breathing on his side of the bed and I am wide awake. Revenge ideas welcomed and considered.

brain junk

Last summer I had plowed through about 5 novels by this time. Last summer every night when got Josh off to bed at a reasonable hour I would read fora few more hours. It really paid off all winter when I don't have time to read but could pretty much say "I read that" during every bok related conversation I happened upon. I brought a huge bag of books up here with me this summer but can not seem to crack open a single one.

Part of it is because I keep letting Josh stay up way past his bed time. Part of it is because we are living on a construction site and the damned devil dog keeps bringing truck loads of dirt into the house in her fur and I spend hours a day sweeping. (I have a broom blister on my right palm as proof, in case you have ever seen my regular house and know what kind of lax house keeper I typically am) , and also I think it is because I am reluctant to read because reading is more real than tv viewing and I fear something bad happening to someone in any of the books I might pick up. I am shying away from sorrow this summer.

When I was in Florida after my mom died my cool step sister (There are two step sisters. They pretty much wanted nothing to do with me and lil sis until three weeks ago. But now they are making an effort to be "family." I'm trying not to let the strangeness of it all overwhelm the necessity of the gesture. The four girls are all dad has left. We should be unified.) and I discovered that we have similar taste in television series. When I got home a package arrived with the first season's dvds of nip tuck, which I had never seen and the cool step sis told me I would love. It was a gift from her. I am currently a season and a half into nip tuck. This summer I am addicted to nip tuck. I don't feel particularly intelligent about it.... but it's something to do. I figure someone else must be watching because the show has been on the air for a nice long run, but I can't find a single person to chat with how creepy I think Matt looks with his resemblance to Michael Jackson (Am I the only one who sees that in the kid?) or how annoying it is that Julia always look like she is crying or why they don't hardly ever show the daughter, or how hot or not the two main characters are...

Anyone?

Especially the thing about Matt. I have to find another soul who agrees with that one.

all here

My heart almost stopped today when the phone rang and the caller ID had my mom's name on it. I froze. Then I realized it was Dad. And this is how well he is doing: He met with a nutritionist to figure out how he is going to feed himself. He has never cooked anything more than toast or a Lean Cuisine in his 88 years. He is coming up to Utopia for most of August. And I volunteered to go back to Florida with him and stock his freezer with home cooked meals. He said he would rather learn how to cook it himself and maybe I could show him when he is here. My heart almost stopped again. I told him to make a list of every thing he wants to be able to cook. Awesome right? And if I could have squeezed through those tiny little fiber optic cables all the way to Florida just to give him a great big hug and kiss (or four) I would have.

In other news, as in no bad news is good news, grandma's wound has not grown in the past week and the nursing home nurse tells me it looks like it is beginning to heal and even scab over. Hmmmm?? Can grandma beat MRSA? All of a sudden I have a tiny ray of hope. But I am keeping it tiny for now.

But the post I had floating around in my head to day went less like who isn't dying yet and more like this:

When Matt was a toddler I took my cues from the other moms of Y chromosomed toddlers and would linger when I passed heavy machinery so Matt could watch and get all man-ified. Then I gave him steak. ( joking!) I realized that the other lingering mothers, in their similar states of false enthusiasm, did not call the machinery "the yellow thingie with the scooping thingie" or "that big red truckie thingie" but instead actually knew the official manly construction vehicle names. I even tried to learn those names myself. But not long after I had barely committed the most basic of construction vehicle names to my useless pot infused (hello? college grad here!) short term memory Matt took a giant developmental leap in expressiveness and began to speak in full sentences. And one of his first sentences, much to my relief, went something like "Mother, please do not offend my gentlemanly sensibilities by requiring me to watch this nonsensical display of mechanical machismo. I'd much rather quietly enjoy my farm animals book. The cow says moo. Would you mind strolling us along now?" And I said "GAWD! Could I love this kid any more than I already do?" and I forever strolled away from all sites under construction.

Then Evan and Josh came along and neither one of them ever cared for construction vehicles either and so as usual I got off easy!

So, tonight when I pulled up to utopia and saw that a big yellow scoopie thingie was doing something quite exciting I had to scream "Josh! Look it's one of those big yellow scoping thingies! I can't believe they came!"

You see, the old torn down utopian house had this really gigantic awesome boulderish rock in front of it. The contractor wanted to blast it way with dynamite but I told him he couldn't. After all, the rock was here first. You don't mess with something that predates your existence by at least a couple of million years. You know? Also, I have a special feeling for that rock. One it was here BEFORE and I figure we have to leave something, anything from before that we can. Also, you see this is a big one, on our second annual babes weekend in utopia one of the babes had this idea for a group portrait. We all pulled our shirts off of our shoulders and stood behind the rock so that it looked like we were naked. Oh yeah, we all made very successful "come hither" faces too. (And if you have been reading here for a while you know who's idea it was don't you? Naturally, it was wildmom's)

So when the contractor tore down the old villa du toxic mold he had someone with a big yellow thingie simply roll the rock away from the site. And the rock sat there, all sad and neglected for almost two years until today! When I came home and the other yellow thingie was shoving the rock into the place where I requested it go. You see, in the old location the rock separated two paths to the house. It wouldn't look right so close to the house anymore, but now it defines the path to the new outdoor toilet! Which is way cooler than sounds because you have no idea how utterly joyous it is going to be to have an outdoor toilet. Seriously, it is going to be a nice outdoor toilet, with it's own boulder defined path and I am going to make the path very very special. I mean, it already has it's own boulder! (which I am thinking of naming Darren after one the architects on our job.) finger wagging your disbelief away Just you wait and see!

What? You want to see now? Well, you know this area is still a construction zone. The boulder is kind of still dirty. I am going to plant around it... But okay, if you insist.

Just
be
nice
with
me.

And
appreciate
that
I
am
making
Josh
take
this
photo.

And
hoping
no
one
comes
down
the
driveway
for
a
visit
until
I
am
back
in
the
house
and fully clothed!

TA DA!

Just Kidding again!

dreaming

Lil sis got a new camera. And so did her friend. They did not know how to use their cameras so they came over here to utopia to get a lesson in digital SLR.

I love talking shop!

I can't decide what I should do when I get home this fall. I want to photograph, I want to paint, I want to live at the posh gym. I just want to focus on me and what I want for a while. Like really focus on me. Like a lot. Like someone better teach the kids how to cook and do their own laundry. Hahaha. Like that's gonna happen!

I can dream though..... And that is precisely what I am about to do.