Thursday, May 20, 2010

Oh Crap, That's Going To Hurt (Part #2)

A Three Part Tale Of Epic Clumsiness

*If you have not yet read part #1 of my tale, I certainly recommend clicking the link for your reading pleasure. Although part #2 should be entertaining in its own merit, reading part #1 will only enhance your neurotic experience.*

Picking myself up off the blanket of garbage I had landed on, I decided to take the most direct course of action: turn my back on the entertained face of the garbage man and run...err...scootch like the wind back into the safety of my warm house with the comforting scent of brewing coffee.

Now that I knew what a nightmare being outside was, I knew that at some point in my day, I was going to have to go purchase salt for the glacier that is my driveway/sidewalk/impromptu vaudeville act. Not only that, but 15 minutes after shipping Smoochie off on the bus, I happened to notice his lunch on the kitchen counter. OF COURSE! It would make perfect sense that this would be the one and only day of the year for my oldest loin chop to forget his lunch. I had no choice
but to venture back out onto the ice sheet.

Of course, it makes sense that I would desire to start my minivan ahead of time, to give the layer of ice clinging to it like a barnacle a chance to melt and slip away, so I grabbed my keys, took a now DESPERATE sip of coffee, and headed back out the door.

And that's ALMOST as far as I made it this time- out the door. I stepped down onto the first step and my foot did the whole banana peel trick it had practiced earlier. And since I was nice enough to include a mental dialogue in my first part, I'll continue the tradition. My mind, still desperate for coffee, rambled on in the following fashion:

Foot, step, foot step. Aw, CRAP, why isn't my foot on the step? Why, hello feet, haven't I already seen you once today? This landing is going to be a bit more painful than the garbage bag, isn't it? Close your eyes, perhaps you won't feel it....

And I landed rump down on the edge of the bottom step/sidewalk. This time I took a minute to assess things. Fortunately I didn't feel like anything was broken, but my wrist was a bit sore. Gingerly I stood up, muttering to myself something about what I'd pay to have an ounce of freeking grace, gave thanks that at least I didn't have my youngest son in my arms at the time, and gritted my teeth in order to try and make it to my car without another incident.

By the time I made it back inside to bundle Critter up and prepare for my journey to Smoochie's school, I was quite perturbed. At that moment in time I was feeling more like a drunk hippo on land than a gazelle. As I sipped at my now lukewarm cup of coffee, I comforted myself with the realization that, "Hey, Chas, you've already fallen twice today, odds are you'd probably get struck by lightning before you actually fall again."

Yeah, right. To be continued....

Timed Out

I've been in hiding. It's been a couple of months since I've posted anything here. My blog reader has seventy hundred blog posts that I haven't read. But it's not just here online that I've been in hiding. I'm realizing that I've been hiding from real life, too.

I don't leave the house unless there's a legitimate reason, like for the grocery shopping, or the actual job interview I had last week, or to avoid the indoor echo of Critter's temper tantrums. Most mornings, I'd like nothing more than to pile on about 10 comforters and not get out of bed for weeks. I know these things are probably fairly normal, and to combat them I try to exercise. I face each day with a grateful feeling that I get to enjoy my boys' smiles and giggles. And if I have to be with anyone, I plaster on a smile and a mask, and crack a good joke or two. Laughter is my lifeline, it always has been.

Part of my problem is that I refuse to have a pessimistic outlook to life. No matter how tough things are or how turbulent my insides are, I fully believe that half of the battle is in your attitude. The last thing on Earth I desire is to wake up and look at myself in the mirror and see Moaning Myrtle staring back at me. Holy Moley is that chick a major buzzkill. Call me stubborn, but yeah. That's not ever going to be me if I have any say in the matter.

Another part of my problem is that I find it very hard to write about the things that are going on in my personal life. For starters, I generally tend to follow the philosophy labeled: If you don't have anything positive (or nice) to say or contribute, then keep your yappy trap shut. I vowed I would do whatever it takes to make this as easy as possible on my boys, and that includes not talking about a lot of what is going on. Sadly enough, they (we) are learning that there are some wounds in life that you can't simply slap a band aid on or just kiss away. These moments are heartbreaking to endure, and even harder to write about.

So. We're getting to the crux of my post. I'm going to legitimately try and post more, in order to force myself out of hiding a bit. Why do I have such a strong feeling of deja vu??

And thinking of Keanu Reeves in black leather, does anyone have any good pointers to how to keep an 8year old boy from yelling in a very unquiet, turretty manner, "Look Mom!!! THERE'S YOUR BOYFRIEND!!!" every time he sees a picture of Dwayne (The Rock) Johnson in public?

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

I'm Back Like Jay Leno But Hopefully In A Better Way

Wow, is it hard to get back into the swing of writing anything after having taken a month off. I'm still here, I'm still muddling through, and certainly still taking things one day at a time. Some days are good, some days are an eternity. But really when I stop to look at it, that's just the way life often is, no matter what is happening in the world around me. The good and the bad often mesh together to create a richly painted canvas of who I am as a person. Not every moment needs to be profound, not every moment needs to be glorious. But beauty can be found in everything as long as I never stop looking for it. Whew. That's quite enough of the heavy for this blog post. Time to lighten things up, I think.

I know I promised a three part tale of my ice capades, and I am diligently working on part 2. I'll have it up sometime in the next couple days. I swear, sometimes my level of clumsiness surprises even me.

The past month has gone by fairly fast, with a newly crowned two year old in the house. Critter's Birthday was on Valentine's day, which kept me from yelling Bah Humbug at the top of my lungs to everyone I saw that day. Celebrating his birthday was a nice distraction. He's grown and changed a lot, and his vocabulary is expanding daily. Sometimes I can figure out what he's saying, sometimes I can't. He still diligently refuses to call me Mom, and if I listen close enough when I get him out of his crib in the mornings, I SWEAR he's actually calling me Mrs. Krabappel. He did look at me and say Mom once this past weekend- the first time he's actually used the word in context. I hugged him with tears in my eyes, swelled with pride, and offered to buy him a car.

After having taken such a long bloggy vacation, I'm feeling list deprived, so I'm going to sign off with a list today. And then try and find time to work on part 2 of my tale of clumsiness. So without further Ado, I present to you:

Critter Speak

Woof Woof : Dog, any dog, all dogs, any furry thing that might possibly resemble a dog, does not exclude squirrels, rabbits, Scooby Doo, and some fat cats

Bub Bob: Spongebob

Go!: To leave the house, any and all cars, trucks, tractors, vehicles with wheels excluding trains, and what Smoochie must do if Critter doesn't feel like dealing with his kisses

Da Dain!: The Train, must include the article the, there is never just a train, it must always be the train

Uh, Oh.... Roogaloh!: Uh-Oh, Spagetti-o's

Dye! Low! (sounds like wow with an L instead of the W): Bye! Love You!

Owttt!!: Ouch!(are you starting to notice a yelling pattern? Critter doesn't know the meaning of inside voice.) Best yelled when I'm wiping his face, his bottom, or his hands. I hope he stops yelling this at the top of his lungs before spring, or I will have to do some explaining to the neighbors.

Gay Goo: Thank You (he says this often, I eat it up for its uncharacteristic non ornery-ness)

Ki-Ki/Gi-Gi: I have NO CLUE. I can't seem to figure it out. I've determined it's NOT blanky, binky, kitty, or any other ends in y word I can think of. If anyone has any suggestions, I would be most appreciative.

And since Critter has just just begun running through the house with his hands in the air, yelling, "THE TRAIN??", I can only assume he is looking for one of his many trains and I must go help him find it now. Next Up, my tale of clumsiness, part 2.

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

Oh Crap, That's Going To Hurt (Part #1)

A Three Part Tale Of Epic Clumsiness
Part #1

Last Wednesday night, I heeded the warnings of my local page and prepared for a layer of ice to blanket the land. In preparation I had shopped for our food before the onslaught of the freezing rain, ran any and all errands that would be needed for the following couple of days, and upon completion pulled the wipers up off my windshield to avoid not being able to scrape off the ice when the time came. However, even though I prepared ahead for the ice, I am still a great procrastinator at heart.

I must confess that I was not nearly as prepared when it came to toting my garbage to the curb for the pick up on Thursday morning. I, truly, am a procrastinator to the core. It has not been unknown for me to wake up at 5am on the day a 10 page paper is due and spit one out in its entirety from start to finish. And my inner mind mechanisms treat the toting of garbage in much the same way as it would a term paper- I don't really WANT to do it, so I put it off until the unavoidable moment when it's do or die- sink or swim in a sea of black garbage bags. For me, that moment is each Thursday morning at about 7am because the Garbage man shows up at my curb shortly before 8 each week.

True to form, I woke up last Thursday morning in a rush to get the garbage out. And upon opening my kitchen door, I encountered the ice.

Ice, while it can be devastating, is truly beautiful when it coats the world outside. Trees glisten and creak under its weight, snow sparkles like a vampire should never, and our fence becomes a glistening fortress. This is the exact form of beauty that accosted me as I opened my kitchen door coffee-less, bleary eyed and rushed, last Thursday morning.

I suspect that if you know me, or have read a great deal of my blog, your gears are at least spinning if your mental light bulb isn't going off like a strobe by now. Anyone who's known me for a lifetime, or a few years, or a couple of months, or a day or so, or perhaps encountered me in a grocery store, or even so much as glimpsed me from inside a jewelry store, will be able to tell you without a nanosecond of hesitation that Chas plus a glacier of ice can not ever equal anything graceful. Highly entertaining perhaps, but never graceful.

I approached the ice with this fact fully on my mind. I carefully slid my way to the garage, and began toting garbage bags to the curb. Well, technically it was more like skating- my driveway was a giant sheet of ice and it slopes down toward the street. Not only did I have the skating rink of a driveway to maneuver through, I had gravity working against me as well. Have I mentioned that I was already being extra careful? Well, I was as careful as I could be, toting 3 bags of garbage so I would only have to conquer the driveway twice.

And I made it, too. I toted those three puffy black bags of garbage to the curb like a slightly tired gazelle. Congratulating myself on my lack of broken bones, I placed my hands behind my back and headed back up the glacial incline speed skater style. And feeling quite cocky and graceful I began the trip back down to the curb.

As I reached the sidewalk and turned from the driveway ice to the sidewalk ice, I felt my whole world begin to slip out of balance. My feet magically (and yes I say magically because by that point I had forgotten that it could actually happen) lost all traction. Did I mention that I hadn't had coffee yet? My first foot hit the sidewalk ice, lost traction, and slung its self magically up into the air about head high. My other foot, being attached to the very same body that was attached to the first foot, followed suit. Before I could blink I was staring at both feet, hovering quite horizontally a couple of feet in mid air.

I think at this moment I will take a few sentences to share what one's mind actually thinks when one finds themselves a horizontal ice queen. Now mind you, it happened quite quickly, but I had time to fully think, Oh crap, no traction! Crap, no traction for that foot either! Oh, hi feet, so that's what you look like... Feet? I can see my feet? Uh-oh, crappity crap crap crap!! THIS. Is going to hurt...

And that is exactly what flew through my head on my way down to the ice encrusted Earth. Somehow, I managed to land on a bag of garbage though, feeling grateful at hearing the 'poof' sound it made when I squished the air out of it. Giving thanks for my blanket of garbage, I assessed the damage. I discovered that due to my strategic landing upon a pile of garbage, I was quite fine. Feeling relieved, I looked up.

And that was when I noticed the garbage truck across the street, with the driver inside staring at me...

Friday, January 8, 2010

Dear So and So: New Year/Weight Loss & Candy Edition

Dear So and So...

It's been quite some time since I participated in Kat's Dear So and So on Fridays, and I thought today was as good a time as any to start up again- since I actually have something to say for a change.

Dear Self,

You fool NO ONE at the check out line when you nonchalantly tell the clerk she can just throw the King Size Reeses Big Cup in the bag. She knows full well the second you're in your car you're rampaging through that bag like an 8 year old with a Christmas present and stuffing it in like a 13 year old girl with an A cup and a box of Kleenex.

Your subconscious

Dear Hips,

This letter is to notify you that you are officially being placed on notice. You have a short time left to vacate the premises. Please be prepared to vacate in the immediate future, and leave your dwelling in a state of good repair. You will be penalized and fined for any stretch mark vandalization. And pick up all your Big Cup wrappers for crying out loud!! Consider yourself warned.

Thank you,
Building Maint. Dept.

Dear Arms,

Seriously? You have to be THAT FLABBY? I saw you the other day and you gave me distinct Homer Simpson vibes. I highly recommend you try and lift something heavier than a coffee cup and an almost two year old for a little while.

With Sincerity,
The Bathroom Mirror

Dear Self (again)

You know you can do this. You were actually successful in your attempts last year and managed to ring in the new year 40 pounds lighter. Keep going, don't get discouraged, and keep your chin up. You will get there, especially now that your hips and arms have been placed on notice. But for crying out loud, try and stay away from the Peanut Butter Eggs that accosted you in the Check Out line Wednesday Afternoon. (Um, WHAT MONTH is Easter in this year?) And the Big Cups. And the Twix. -- Hey, I'll tell you what-- would a shock bracelet at the checkout line help? Willpower, girl, willpower. Just stick with it.

The Soon to be New You.

Dear Nestle Crunch Hotline,

Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU for the fit of giggles you gave me this morning. Without giving it away, I will only tell you to call this number: 800-295-0051. If it's busy, keep trying- trust me it's worth the giggle. When asked to continue in English or Spanish, just stay completely silent for 10 seconds and listen- you will smile. Keep going and press 4, then listen to the options and press 7. Try not to giggle out loud, or your selection will be made for you- I had to attempt 3 times before I made it all the way to 7. Anyway, Nestle, thank you- you finally made my day without lingering on my hips!

Always Love a Good Giggle,