A Little Different Than Usual

This Tuesday my baby girl starts second grade. I am crushed by how fast she is growing up. The school supply list made me cry, it was so grown up. I have had a little anxiety about how she is going to adjust to her new teacher and new classmates. So far I haven’t been thrilled with her education. There seems to be a lot of focus on memorizing for the test instead of learning how to learn. Luckily she’s a smart kid so she hasn’t felt the pressure yet. As a matter of fact her first grade teacher made it clear to that she does well in class so she usually didn’t even check her homework. She let me know that she understood the plight of the single mother. Umm…thanks, now butt out and help me to teach my kids some responsibility. Just do your job and put a sticker on her freaking homework! Now I am not trying to offend any teachers. I think I understand how difficult your job is and I know for a fact that I couldn’t do it. I was very happy that Savannah loved and respected her teacher. As unhappy as I am with school so far I constantly encourage that respect. Unfortunately last night I got a voicemail that respect is not something that is going to be taught this year. Apparently it is not on the Standards Of Learning agenda. Henrico County Public Schools will not be showing President Obama’s back to school message on Tuesday. What!? The reason “The first day of school is a busy and full day for our teachers, administrators and staff.” Seriously!? My message from the president in second grade was ketchup is a vegetable and my message from my way more liberal than me Mom was we have to respect the President of the United States.
The goal of the President’s message to students is to encourage them to take responsibility for their education. I guess that is not in the curriculum either this year. No one can deny that our President is at the very least an amazing, exciting speaker and since Billy Mays is no longer with us there is nobody more capable of motivating kids and teachers alike on the first day of school. Instead it seems that unpacking crayons is more pressing. Apparently some noisy conservatives have threatened to keep their children home on the first day of school because of the President’s speech and the schools around here have caved. God forbid they learn about respect, responsibility or get to feel the pride that comes with being able to participate in a historical moment. The argument is that President Obama will be pushing his political agenda. News flash – second graders can’t vote and if they could we would be listening to President Hannah Montana’s back to school message.

Close As I Can Get to the Edge

I have been under extreme amounts of stress lately. I’m a single mom desperately struggling to make sure I don’t do any long lasting emotional damage to my two beautiful, super smart children. Even though Savannah has chosen to begin adolescence at seven years old, clearly stating her hatred for me every thirty minutes and Jackson has decided he is done with pull ups but is also terrified of the potty the same week that I got one of his stupid, pee soaked socks sucked into the washing machine {for all of you without kids, washing machines and little socks mix about as well as potty training and a broken washing machine}. Trying to pay the bills in a failing economy, working in an unpredictable sometimes hostile {on my part} environment that is not getting me any closer to any life dreams or goals. Living in a neighborhood where I am constantly afraid that someone is going to break into my car especially right now when all they would have to do is cut through the hot pink duct tape holding up my passenger side window. Doing my best to live healthier even though I have evidently hit that magic age where physical fitness becomes a struggle and now because drinking until I pass out is probably not the healthiest option I have to face all of my emotional demons. Honestly, I don’t think my liver is worth it but I can’t afford my habit {see failing economy above} and I am so tired of putting on makeup and being nice to psychotic douchebags just for a few beers{dating}. I have tried using “the secret” but as anyone who has read the book or watched the video knows visualizing violent revenge on others only brings negativity right back to you. I’m sorry but I just can’t believe that Oprah thinks that positively all of the time. Luckily life usually doesn’t give you much choice but to find humor in one disaster by throwing another one twice as big at you, forcing you to realize that the first one wasn’t all that bad .
I do still have my good days every once in a while. Yesterday happened to be one of them. My children were being angels and we decided to go to the pool for the afternoon. All three of us are water babies especially when it’s almost 100 degrees with 2000% humidity. I think that our swim times are some of our best times together. No fighting or whining and we are always worn out just enough to enjoy just snuggling and quietly reading stories when we get back home. I was in a really good place. The pool was packed, lots of kids for mine to play with and I had just taken my three year old’s swim vest off. That’s his favorite time because he can’t do his “skater jumps” that apparently impress the teenage girls with it on. So imagine my horror when just as Jackson yells “hey big kids, watch this!” I get shoved in the back by an inner tube holding an obviously deceased elderly woman. I freaked! Silently, of course, I know that screaming bloody murder while hustling my kids out of the pool would only cause trauma and frankly I can’t afford to start dipping into their therapy fund just yet. I was able to calmly lure my kids out of the water with cookies and convince them that there was a bunny in the woods behind the fence so I could turn their chairs away from the grisly scene. I was shocked that no one had gotten this poor woman out of the pool yet! We don’t have a lifeguard, just a pool attendant {or bouncer depending on the day}, who was napping with a towel over his face so had not been alerted of the problem yet. So, still very calm, I went to let him know hoping that he would realize I had two small children that I had to shield from the severe emotional damage of swimming with a decomposing body and that was the most I was capable of helping. Well, this poor guy, who looks put out every time he has to stand up to get a bee out of the water was mortified. I then realized since this wasn’t something he was going to be able to handle with his net on a ten foot pole that someone else might have to take charge. I casually went back to our table to get my phone to call 911. It was so hard not to scream and run. I was shaking and my heart was racing. I do not handle death well and it’s hard for me to deal with dead bugs much less dead PEOPLE floating around. But like I said there were lots of kids there yesterday and you would be amazed how that nurturing mother thing just automatically kicks in under stressfull situations. I still felt the panic setting in and wasn’t sure how much longer I was going to be able to hold up. I had to get out of there, why couldn’t it start thundering so all of these stupid kids would get out of the pool? They were still jumping around, playing marco polo until one kid with his eyes closed pushed the innertube, hard. I thought for sure that the old woman’s tiny fragile body was just going to slump right through under the water. I froze in terror and felt sick to my stomach imagining the heavy thud of her decaying body as she sunk to the bottom of the pool. But instead of vomiting my heart totally stopped as her eyes popped open and she sprung out of her float flailing her arms like she was possessed. When it finally occured to me that my brain is the last place the undead are going to go for a snack I realized that, surprise, surprise I once again look like a big nutjob and to top it off my kids have eaten all of the damn cookies.
So, just a caution to the next dummy who decides to get wasted on a Tuesday afternoon and pass out on a fucking innertube I’m going to take my friend Meriel’s advice and drown you myself so I don’t look like such a fool.

3 Steps Back

This morning at the dog park I noticed that the people who sit too close {six empty benches and you really have to come and sit right next to me!?} are always the owners of the dogs that like to run around humping all of the other dogs. News flash – my dog doesn’t like it and neither do I! I cannot stomach people who don’t understand the concept of personal space. I like to think that I am really good at setting clear boundaries but some people just don’t get it. Huggers are really only good for when I am too wasted to stand up on my own. If I had a genie one of my three wishes would definitely be shock collars for all the close talkers out there with my finger on the button. Get within three feet… bzzt. Since that isn’t an option I chain smoke in public. It usually does the trick. Thanks for destroying my lungs personal space invaders!

I can’t stand to see other peoples public displays of affection either. Even adults holding hands kind of grosses me out. It just makes me think of sticky sweaty palms. Yesterday I almost verbally assaulted a couple in the pool for hanging all over each other. Thank goodness I didn’t because judging from the amount of hair on the man’s back they were orangutans and I know from watching Animal Planet with my daughter that grooming is normal primate behavior.

Its not just physical space. My almost two years of single life have proved to me that I was not born to be a social butterfly. I am extremely introverted, for every hour of together time I need two hours of recharge time. So I love living alone. Especially in a neighborhood where nobody speaks English. I was devastated when I found out my new next door neighbor was fluent and I just wasn’t quick enough on my feet to pretend that I wasn’t. Instead I just decided to ignore her conversational efforts for a few days. Hopefully she just thinks that I am deaf instead of a total bitch. Oh well, whatever she thinks, I guess it all works out the same in the end.

All of this does not mean though that I am a private person. I have no problems sharing my experiences or opinions. I love talking to my clients at work and I am the first person to honestly answer anything you ask of me. Now that I’m thinking about it my honesty is probably my biggest tool in keeping people at arms length. I mean really how many of you who actually read this blog would like to spend an extended amount of time with me?

To you crazies who do like being around me, you are either the ones who keep me going or the ones that are going to force me to live in a bubble or build a barricade to rival the iron curtain around my home.

Go Away

Mostly I like being a girl. There are a lot of perks especially here in the south. Unfortunately holding the door me or carrying my groceries to the car is not going to get you laid. Personally, being hit on twelve times before I get to work in the morning is not flattering. It just pisses me off. This is just a subtle reminder to all of the overconfident men out there to please think before hitting on strangers. We are not all as pleasant as we look. It is not a good idea to approach me in the parking lot at six o’clock in the morning because you are curious whether I have a boyfriend or not. At that time of day I am more than capable of giving you a violently clear understanding of why I will probably stay single. Know that neither the dog park, covered in mud {more likely poo} or the pharmacy, buying feminine hygiene products or having psychiatric prescriptions filled, are appropriate meeting spots. I do not find your bright orange vest or your very manly stop sign the least bit sexy. I am more likely to run you down than give you my number. You arent getting anywhere with “Do you need help drinking that beer tonight?” because its gonna take a lot more than half a twelve pack for me to go anywhere with a grown man riding a 10 year old girls bike with sparkle streamers. And really, you buying a forty oz and a lottery ticket with a handful of nickels and dimes at 8am does not make you look like much of a catch, even if things were to work out obviously you do not have a job and you have made me late to mine. At least it would get our first fight out of the way.

Thanks Anyway

I have lived a very full life, meaning I have done a lot of dumb shit. And I will continue to do dumb shit daily mostly because it keeps life interesting. I get bored easy and pushing limits is one of my favorite things to do. However please know that I am not an idiot. Most of the time I know all of the possible outcomes of my actions. I usually know fully well that eating a plate of nachos meant for three people, five times a week is probably going to result in my gaining a few pounds. So please don’t give me dieting tips while I am enjoying my lunch. I also know that handing out unsolicited advice can possibly result in a kick in the shins so I don’t give it. I think that by itself proves that I am a lot smarter than most people.

One to Scratch Off the List

I have decided to add “get over my fear of commitment” to my bucket list and I think its a great place to start as there is obviously no physical activity involved. Also William Shatner is getting up there and I think I need to be prepared to settle down if he ever does happen to look me up. I thought the best place to start would be with a self help book. I love those things. Its so much easier to just skip the chapter on halted emotional growth than to stick your fingers in your ears and sing “I’m not listening!” when you are talking to a therapist, wasting an hour of your life, a thirty dollar copay and risking being asked to leave the premises. Or worse yet being “asked” to stay for a 72 hour “rest” when your therapist is running an hour and a half behind just when you are getting ready to make a breakthrough on your explosive anger with the receptionist. Unfortunately Books-a-Million is right next to Total Beer and Wine and as I’ve mentioned before I am very easily distracted. Thank goodness for google. In reviewing some of the symptoms it seems as if I am a classic commitmentphobe. Attraction to unavailable men, overly critical and unrealistic ideals, fear of lost options. But then there was this: “fear of making poor decisions” Silly me I don’t even have a problem.

Never Again

I drink. Heavily sometimes. I think I can hold my liquor pretty well. I take a lot of pride in the fact that you can’t usually tell I’m drunk until I fall flat on my face. I think it’s genetic. Most times I stick to beer or tequila and I am able to gauge my buzz as I go. Unfortunately this is not the case when I am drinking wine. I can’t feel it usually well into the second bottle, by then its way too late and I am the spitting image of Jeff Richards character “Drunk Girl” on SNL. I’m not sure why every once in a while I still drink wine maybe its something I will figure out in some future AA meeting. I can say though that last night I was able to stop at one bottle (all that was in the house) and I will never do that again. Sometimes it’s just best to drink until you pass out. Even in my dream life I make the worst possible decisions. But just in case my dreams are prophetic and anybody wanted to fix me up with a guy in a house arrest ankle bracelet those things are really annoying and I’m really not that desperate. Yet.

Summer Dreams

School is out. Summer is here. And as excited as I am that I made it through another school year without beating the crossing guard to a pulp because I definitely think people with ginormous gas guzzlers and no air conditioning should get parking preference, I’m still very nervous about making it through the next two months. This summer I have decided to keep both my kids out of daycare and cut back my work hours to spend more time with them. HAHA! You know I meant to save a little cash. With the money I am going to save this summer I could take a nice relaxing vacation, except that I would now have to take my kids with me because I have to take them EVERYWHERE with me this summer. I’m not quite sure what the hell I was thinking. I don’t think I’m a bad mom but I do start having panic attacks and crying fits if I have to spend more than 24 hours straight with them. At least I might have enough saved up for the padded room come August.

Damn Eddie Bauer

Over the weekend I broke my sons carseat and had to get a new one. I am usually a do it yourselfer but I could not figure this thing out. I took it to my babies daddy’s house to get some help i.e. have someone to scream at since I was not going to be able to find the woman who sold it to me at 8pm on a Sunday. He suggested I take it to a firestation to have it installed. What an ass! He knows I would have to drive over an hour in any direction to find a firestation where I would not run into anyone I have gone out with. I cant call 911 either. I have dated a lot over the last year and at least 90% of those dates have been with cops and firefighters. It has nothing to do with men in uniform. Emotional unavailability and the fact that my life is not nearly as screwed up as what they see everyday is very comforting. Hopefully, I am over that stage. I have a full tank of gas so I’m off to have my carseat installed and maybe get some plans for the weekend.

That's Right

A couple days ago I nominated myself for a bloggers choice award. That’s right I nominated myself. Just in case blogging and expecting people to enjoy it wasn’t narcissistic enough. I have to assume that most blogs get nominated by their creators. The difference is that I am not very creative with usernames and selected “maya_r” on the bloggers choice award website. I tried to change it after the fact but much like my pregnancies whats done is done and I have to make the best of it.
However, my obsession with myself is not the saddest part of this whole nomination thing. There are a few people that I ask for advice before I do anything and I asked all of these people which categories I should nominate myself in. “Humor” was unanimous. Wait a minute! This is my life I’m blogging about! I have learned that my loved ones think my anger, confusion, paranoia and the fact that my children might as well be raised by wolves are all hilarious. They are now all on my list.
So even if you are just voting for me out of pity please vote for me http://bloggerschoiceawards.com/blogs/show/76247/?utm_source=bloggerschoiceawards&utm_medium=badge&utm_content=besthumorblog

Thanks