Stacy hosts a book club part 1

A couple of months ago I found myself in a discussion with a total stranger about something personal enough I really shouldn't have been sharing it with a total stranger. It caused my inner monologue to scream, "Holy Sh#t Kid! You have got to make friends!" and it's true. I couldn't argue with me. Usually, I can always argue with me. Not this time. I moved to a new city over a year ago and I've yet to really make any friends. Stop picturing me alone. In the corner. Begging one of my thirty cats to, 'come give momma some love!' That isn't me. I'm not alone. I have a very full life actually. I'm ALWAYS busy. Plus, I have no cats. My best friend is my boyfriend and because we live together, I hang out with my best friend every single day. I don't feel lonely at all. Yet, it would be nice to occasionally go out with girl friends. The problem is if I wanted to have a girls night, there is a lengthy commute involved. I liked all of my friends where I used to live. I miss all of my friends where I used to live. I just don't like them enough or miss them enough to spend two hours in traffic round trip. No reflection on them. They are good quality people, wonderful people, awesome in the whole friendship department. It's me that is a poor friend. I have a billion kids. Actually I have 5 kids, but 5 kids is equal to a billion regular things. It can't be explained, it's just a fact. When you have a billion kids you can really only arrange to get away from them for maybe a few hours, and that would be maybe once or twice a month, making the idea of spending most of that time in traffic a very effective deterrent. But getting away and connecting with friends is SO important. It keeps you sane. Or in my case, it keeps me as close to sane as I am ever going to get. So I all agreed with me. I need to make friends locally. There lies the problem, how do you make friends when you no longer have recess? I can't just show them I have gum. That works when you're a kid but not so much when you're an adult unless you're trying to make friends with kids. I don't want to make friends with kids, they can't handle their liquor. I want to make friends with grown ups. But how? I Googled it. According to the all powerful interweb, you simply find something that you are interested in, and you invite people to do that with you. At first that was perplexing. I am interested in almost nothing. I do not like cats, or hats, or cats with hats. I don't like to sew, I don't like to cook. I don't like to sew hats on cats that cook. I don't like to paint or draw. I don't like to paint cooks that draw hats on cats that can sew. YOU SEE? NOTHING!!. That's when the idea hit me. I like naps.

 
I will find other people who like naps as much as I like naps and invite them over for nothing ever. Some things are just too weird. That's when a completely different idea hit me. I like to read. I read a lot. Like, a lot a lot. Reading is the best form of entertainment for me. I have a hard time really paying attention to television because my mind tends to wander. But I focus when reading a book. Even good television shows I end up missing things. It seems like I look away for one minute and when I look back suddenly somebody got shot or someone has a baby or somehow there is a goat. I spend the rest of the show wondering when did that happen? How did I miss it? The number one greatest thing about books is no one in the story says or does anything if I'm not looking. I really respect that.

So if I read and they read, I just invite them over to read. At first that seemed weird too. Two people crowding one book. Ridiculous. I'm just asking for yet another one of my "Craigs list ad placed with good intentions but horribly misunderstood" fiascos. No read-overs, they are as creepy as nap-overs. And then a third idea based on the second idea hit me. What I need is a mother f@#$%&! book club.

I created a book club and the story of my creation minus the details has been told "far" and "wide". Many have asked me "What the hell Stacy?" some have even proclaimed, "Do you even know what a book club does?" People are so curious. I've even been asked, "YOU! started a book club?" It really seems like many of these people would like to start their own book club but they just don't know how. So, I created a step by step guide for creating and hosting a gathering focused on the love of reading books. It's more than that though. It's flexible, it's fluid. It could be used as a step by step guide for creating and hosting a gathering focused on the love of whatever the hell you like. Except for instead of a step by step guide it's more of an account of what I did.

March 1st: Originally, it was my intention to join an existing book club. I asked four people if they were aware of any local book clubs I could join. They were not aware of any book clubs, so I gave up all hope of ever finding a book club. Because people are stupid.

March 2nd: Decided that since all 4 people I had asked about existing book clubs, had agreed that a book club would be fun, I should start my own.

March 2nd thru April 30th: Occasionally remembered I was going to start a book club.

May 22nd: Had a much more serious conversation about definitely eventually maybe starting a book club soon with a few other ladies that agreed book club would be fun.

June 9th:

• Read a really good book and decided more people should read. Which reminded me that I was going to start a book club.

June 10th:

• Created a Facebook page dedicated to Book Club
• Named Book Club. Book Club.
• Google searched good 'book club' books. Chose a book and immediately messaged friends that had shown interest in starting a book club. 
• Decided that we would maybe need more members
• Sent out personal messages via Facebook to anyone that met the following criteria: 1. They were local. Because I'm not making friends that live more than 20 miles away. I'm just not. 2. They might have the slightest interest in reading. They didn't need to be the bibliophile that I am to enjoy a good book. 3. I've met them and would like to get to know them better which pretty much means that I've met them and not once did I want to stab them. 
• Got super excited as the membership grew to an astounding 6 members and envisioned all of the things I could conquer with such a formidable army!!!
• Lost track of time because I "make believed" for the next six hours.
• Sternly reminded myself it was a book club not an army of the undead and I needed to calm the hell down.
• Gave myself a good pat on the back because even though I had not in fact raised an army of the undead I still accomplished a lot on this tenth day of June. If you didn't county any of the make believe time. 
• Stopped congratulating myself when I realized that in reality I had wasted the entire day, I had no idea where my children were, and they should probably be fed. Or at least watered.

June 12th:

• Checked the Facebook group and was surprised to see membership was nearing 20.
• Got so excited I made up the song "I have a book club in my pants"  
• wondered why the lyrics were "I have a book club in my pants" and not simply "I have a book club" 
• remembered the song I wrote called "cookie cookie in my pants. I'm a kangaroo."
• Became sad that I didn't have any cookies
• Became mad that I didn't have any cookies 
• Decided I should probably read the book

June 16th:

• Finished the book. Realized in horror it was the worst book I had EVER READ and I just forced 20 other women to read it too.
• Got annoyed with myself for being so dramatic. It was not the WORST. It just wasn't what I expected.
• Got annoyed with myself for trying to contain myself. I can call it the worst book if I want.
• Had to take a minute and ask myself why I never let myself be me anymore. Understood that I had a point that maybe I'm an adult and I should try harder to act like one. 
• Promised me I would stop arguing with myself. I'm not my enemy.
• Appropriately felt personally betrayed by the New York Times for convincing me I was picking a good book that tuned out to be either the worst book ever or a book I didn't like. 
• Stared at the ceiling yelling "Damn you to hell New York Times" while wildly waving my fist of fury

June 20th:

• Finally all my lamenting about book club and of high hopes and crushed dreams annoyed my family to the point I was forbidden to talked about book club between the hours of 12:00am and 11:59pm
• Was chastised for only lasting two minutes before I brought up book club again

June 27th:

• Realized the day of book club is upon us. 
• Realized it's noon and despite my barely contained excitement I had done nothing to prepare for the gathering at 7pm
• Literally nothing. At all. 
• Haven't showered
• Haven't even put pants on
• Took a nap

Part 2 of Stacy hosts a book club will be continued because I feel like this blog is long enough 

I obviously didn't mean it when I said I would throw you at a charging herd of rhino's.

I obviously didn't mean it when I said I would throw you at a charging herd of rhino's. Think about it, I'm never going to Safari with you. So for you to claim that was a threat, really just makes you look silly. Did you think I was going to lure you to the zoo, cause a commotion that would result in a stampede of all two of the Rhino's they keep there and then toss you in? That would take all afternoon! at least! and I don't have that kind of time reserved for "sweet revenge scenarios".

If I had a dime for every time I've had to issue this or a similar apology. Am I right or am I right? It seems like every one talks about PMS but no one ever shines a light on the days one must face shortly after a PMS exchange. If you suffer from PMS then you know what its like when you're trying to have a nice dinner with your family, but everyone is still crying about you burning some of there stuff in the backyard a minute ago. Hello! Do they think I enjoyed being in the clutches of an apocalyptic rage? I didn't. My throat is still scratchy from all the screaming and I'm sure I broke a toe when I kicked that giant play set slide. Think about how hard I had to kick that slide. It was bolted down and it still cleared a six foot fence.

I know its hard to be the family members of the fine gracious wonderful woman who suffers endures PMS, but there are a few things you should keep in mind. Who the hell do you think you are? What kind of perverse death wish do you have? Were you even wearing safety gear when you looked her right in the eye and asked, "what's for dinner?" You know you had induced the birth of the Destructor just hours before. Are you insane? You peered in to the abyss and asked "what's for dinner?"

Maybe there are multitudes of boring old spineless types and they would simply say "tacos" and you would eat your tacos and then what? Just relax and go to bed? All the time? Every night your home is nothing more than a safe haven where you can relax and let your guard down? Does that really sound like a good full life? Forgive me if I don't understand the lure in such an uneventful existence.

My diabolical family tricks me in to thinking that is exactly the monotonous emptiness they yearn for. I even start to believe that peace and tranquility are our mutual goals. They can keep up the charade for just over a fortnight before inevitably they band together and unleash my beast with in. Its seems half hazard to the untrained eye but in truth it is a complicated alluring dance that has taken years for them to perfect. The chosen words are spoken casually to the ears of my physical body, but they are heard in the darkest region of my hell bound soul. And they know this. But they strike up the band and dance the dance over and over and over. Month after month after month. This leads one to the only obvious conclusion that they like a little excitement. They play with fire. Danger is their middle name.

It takes a surprisingly short amount of time to cast off the warm and fuzzy ambiance and replace it with a tangible, foreboding, evil presence. I have broken down the choreography step by step so that we can watch them cast this enchanted spell together.

Child 1: Mom!
Me: Hey! What's up?
Child 1: Tomorrow I have to have my green pants.
Child 2: Mom!
Child 1: I'm already talking to mom
Child 2: I thought you were done
Me to Child 2: Just one second
Child 1: I'm not done. I was in the middle of saying something and you interrupted.
Me to Child 1: okay, what is it? You need green pants tomorrow and what else?
Child 1: Nothing else. JUST NEVER MIND!
Me to Child 1: Go find your green pants and I'll get them washed.
Me to Child 2: What did you need?
Child 2: I don't need anything jeez! I just wanted to say hi.
Child 1: I'm still talking!!!
Me and Child 2 to Child 1: What?
Child 1 to Child 2: I'm not talking to you, go away.
Child 2: I don't have to go away, you go away. Mom said to go get your green pants.
Me: Both of you stop. Me to Child 1: Go get your green pants. Me to Child 2: Stop antagonizing. Go clean your room.
Child 3: Mom!
Child 2: I'm not antagonizing! I'm just trying to say Hi and you're yelling at me for no reason.
Child 1: I can't find my green pants that's why I'm telling you. If I had my green pants I wouldn't just be telling you. Hey I need my pants that I have.
Child 3: Mom!
Me to Child 1: Go look for them. Me to Child 2: I'm not yelling but I can't talk right this very second. Me to Child 3: What?
Child 1: I did look for them! I can't find them. That's why I'm telling you.
Child 2: You can't talk to me but you're talking to her and she just walked in. You always talk to her.
Child 3: Mom!
DEEP CALMING BREATH
Me to Child 1: Did you look in all your drawers and your laundry basket. Me to Child 2: Please just stop. Hello to you too. Go clean your room. Me to Child 3: Go clean your room
Child 1: I know they are not in my drawers and I haven't worn them so I know they're not in my laundry basket.
Child 2: My room is clean. Can I paint? Yesterday you said that after school I could use the paints we got for my birthday if I didn't make a mess.
Me to Child 1: You know they're not in your drawer because you looked? Just go look in your drawers and laundry really quick. Me to Child 2: Not right now.
Child 1: I know they're not in there
Child 4: Mom!
Child 2: You always say not right now.
Me to Child 1: just go look. Me to Child 2: Not right now. Me to Child 4: What?
Child 4: Did you know the toilet is flooding and now the carpet in the hall is wet?
Child 3 yelling from outside: I TRIED TO TELL YOU BUT YOU SAID TO GO CLEAN MY ROOM
Child 4: You're not even in your room you're outside
Child 3: I forgot that's what she said
Child 4: you did not forget. you just repeated it
Child 3: I remembered now
Child 1: My green pants are not in my drawer. I told you they weren't
Child 2: When? My birthday was three months ago and I still haven't got to try my present.
DEEP BREATH. DEEP CALMING BREATH.
Child 4: If we don't leave right now I'm going to be late to Cheer practice and I can't miss any.
Child 5: The bathroom floor is all wet.
Me to Child 1: I can not help you right this second but I will make sure you have your pants for tomorrow. Me to Child 2: I cannot have you get paint out right now and if you ask again you go to your room. Me to Child 3: I want you inside and in your room right this second. Do not come back out until it is clean. Me to Child 4: I need to deal with the bathroom and then we will go. Me to Child 5: Go clean your room.
This buys me less that 5 minutes of quiet to try to deal with the flood. I refer to it as an intermission to their symphony of chaos. 
Child 4: I'm now late.
Child 5: Do I have to clean my whole room because I cleaned it yesterday and I know I didn't get any of my stuff out so somebody went in my room.
Me to Child 4: I'm trying to hurry. I can't just leave this.
Me to Child 5: No one messed up your room. No one has been in your room. Go clean.
Child 5: I know someone was in my room because I put my books on my bed and now they're on the floor.
Me to Child 5: Don't you think when you slept in your bed last night your books fell off your bed?
Child 5: *eye roll and stomps away*
Child 4: I'm not allowed to go late
Child 3: There is a lady on your phone
Me to Child 3: What? Who?
Child 3: I don't know. It was about an appointment.
Me to Child 3: Where is my phone?
Child 3 *shrugs and skips away*
Child 4: Mom! I'm LATE! You make me late to everything!
Child 5: I know I didn't get my doll out. I left her on my shelf because she is very special. Someone else messed up my room. Its not fair.
Child 3: *returns with phone* I hung up on her
Child 1: I did not bump him! I was just trying to smell the paint to see if it was the same kind my school has!
Child 2: Mom! She got paint all over the kitchen floor and the wall and the counter. I was putting the lid on and she slammed in to my elbow.
Child 1: I didn't even touch him! I leaned over to look and he screamed at me to get away and got paint all over everything.
Child 5: was it my paint that I got from my friend that I used to go to play with before I started school? Cause that was mine.
Child 4: We have got to leave now or I have to just quit or they'll just kick me out.
Child 3: Did you get my shoe out of the toilet?

I want you to picture a young woman. The kind of young woman one would call classy. Who has grace, and poise. Who possesses a commanding presence when she enters the room. She is dignified and serene. Except right this second she is on all fours mopping up water from the tiled bathroom floor with a look of bewildered defeat. And then right before your eyes she transforms in to something the Brothers Grimm couldn't aptly describe with appropriate enough horror and detail, even armed with two thesaurus's and a sheet of LSD. She has become something Stephen Kings ghoulish nightmares have nightmares about. And now in place of what I say next to these adorable sweet little angels, I shall offer a beloved quote as a summary of what transpired. Please read this quote in the voice of the late great Jean Sheppard.

"He worked in profanity the way other artists might work in oils or clay. It was his true medium; a master. In the heat of battle my father wove a tapestry of obscenities that as far as we know is still hanging in space over Lake Michigan." - Ralphie, A Christmas Story.

And right in that moment an image kept at all times in the forefront of my mind now reads:
It has been 00 Months 00 Days 00 Hours since mother ripped us a new one.

This "fiasco" and others very similar are played out daily. however 99% of the time it is "uneventful." Interestingly though, once every 28 days or so the fiasco is diabolically coordinated just right so that the crescendo is perfectly timed to align itself with a release of special hormones. AND THEY CLASH LIKE TITANS! This initial epic outburst begins a game for the children and father of this household. A game that will last for the next 3 to 4 days. The game is called "If I so much as cough will she remove my larynx?"

They know this exciting game is over when I sit them down and explain things. Things like, I obviously didn't mean it when I said if I heard one more sound I would pour red ants through a funnel in to their gaping face hole. Where would I even get red ants? I just really wanted to tell you to go to bed in a way that was very clear and would be immediately understood.

And....... it's dead

I had Christmas spirit. I like to name everything so I named my Christmas spirit Charlie. Charlie showed up around Thanksgiving. I was excited. Charlie was excited. That mutual excitement meant we were going places. This year we were going to carry on old traditions, start new traditions, and of course pepper in a little history behind the holidays and the celebrations so that everyone learned a little something. We were committed to creating the kind of Christmas memories you compare all future Christmas's to. And we were committed to do so in a spiritually gratifying non materialistic kind of way.

The day after Thanksgiving we created giving books with the younger kids. A whole book filled with all their young ideas of ways we could have a positive impact and then they would journal that memory in these home made books. Two of the girls named their journals "My giving book" and seemed earnestly dedicated to filling the pages with humanitarianism. The youngest named hers "turkey love turkey". (I haven't totally given up on a full ride scholarship for her collegiate future despite the obvious evidence that there is a very slim chance)  Charlie and I were off to a great start. We helped my nine year old clean out the pantry and donate all sorts of goodies to a canned food drive. In all honesty it was a lot of cans of crap we don't really like and have no recollection of purchasing. For example cream of mushroom, a very mysterious and very large jar of mayonnaise, stewed tomatoes, etc. But to balance it out we threw in a lot of macaroni and cheese boxes and spaghetti sauce. In hindsight it was less sacrifice and more opportunity, which seems wrong but at the time felt so right. So Christmasy right.

We decorated. We got all sorts of Christmas on this abode. If it was a solid structure we nailed a light to it. We put TWO, that's right TWO Christmas trees up in this house. We hung a wreath on everything. And then stapled lights to those wreaths. We even bought a snow globe and displayed it proudly on the mantel.

And then we were like "kids! you should make a list and send it to Santa!! So much fun. Weeeee!" and the younger kids put pen to paper and their letters were as adorable as they were illegible. And then me and old Christmas spirit Charlie were like "Hey you older kids. You should drop a few hints! wink wink nudge nudge." and the older kids were pretty modest in their Christmas desires which made me proud. Because when your child is so content and so humble that they can't even think of one Christmas wish, you feel like you're doing something right as a parent. It was only later after Charlie and I drifted apart that I realized my older children weren't humble. Those sweet little angels can't think of anything to wish for because THEY ALREADY OWN EVERYTHING!!!

It was around Mid December that I noticed there were "issues" between Charlie and I. We were definitely growing apart. Spending a lot less time together, and the time we did manage to share was not quality. Perhaps we were not as perfect a couple as I had originally believed. I didn't want to accept that Charlie, my Charlie, my Christmas Spirit Charlie, was leaving me. So.....I got really clingy. I gathered the children and we fled to the city to spend a weekend. The hotel had a lobby straight out of 50's era Christmas movies. It was grand and marble and gold and it sparkled and glittered and we stood in the shadow of a giant Christmas tree. We saw all the city holiday displays and lights. We ran around the hotel in our Christmas jammies, we basked in the glory of the elaborately decorated shop windows, we were amazed by a giant ginger bread house prepared by the acclaimed hotel chef. I drank so much hot cocoa by a fire, I started to piss miniature marshmallows. Charlie and I were in love again. Two operating as one. I was in Charlies Christmas spirit embrace as I sung carols. And then we went home.

Then my daughter had her annual Christmas party. (Can I just say completely off topic. Kids smell bad. The more kids you put in to a small space the more amplified that smell becomes. It took me a week to find aromatic balance in the house again.) I noticed Charlie kept disappearing during the party. He was there when we welcomed our guests but disappeared when they decorated cookies. Perhaps Christmas spirit charlie just isn't a fan of sticky fingered kids getting frosting all over the table, the floor, the couch, even the dog. He reappeared for a fun Christmas photo but went missing when those girls with their high pitched squeals were caught jumping on my couch. He was completely MIA during the clean up.

Then the shopping began. I of course brought Charlie along for the drive but once we passed those automatic sliding doors my love for Charlie was no match for my hatred of crowds. I really hate crowds. As soon as there is more than four people in any room, I feel an almost irrational desire to leave. Making any shopping but especially Christmas shopping a heinous chore. But I got out there and I got it done. Because Charlie and I had that goal that was becoming less defined every passing hour but I vaguely remembered it had something to do with having a nice day on the 25th.

I wrapped my gifts and I put them under the tree. But I could still see so much tree skirt. That's when Charlie started pressuring me. He didn't have to try hard. I really wanted to keep Charlie in my life. So I clearly needed to go get more Christmas. And then more Christmas. And then more Christmas, this time "thoughtful Christmas" I really needed to tap in to the souls of my loved ones and fill their voids! And then more Christmas, this time "fun Christmas" because I was being too thoughtful and too serious and I just wanted to make my loved ones smile. And then after the Christmas budget had been depleted Charlie suggested we tap in to my savings he kept screaming "YOLO bitch! Y-O-L-O YOLO!" So I had to get more Christmas. The list kept growing but it didn't feel as glutinous as it sounds. I started with the kids, then my adorable boyfriend, and then my parents, can't forget my sibling, my nieces, my nephews, then the neighbors, co-workers, and the teachers I can't forget the teachers, speaking of teachers what about those outside of school? We've got drum lessons, guitar lessons, bass lessons, voice lessons, musical theater group, jazz, hip-hop. My kids have friends and with 5 kids that's another twenty or so gifts. I don't know what to get any of them! Even my own children. Why have I not gotten to know them better? I found myself asking clerks "Will my son like this? he's 12 and he's a boy and apparently that's all I know about him!" And what about all my planned charity? I still needed to secret toy sub santa for tots!!! I think Charlie left for good when I was contemplating getting the neighbors, co-workers, teachers, and friends a bag of nuts or chapstick. I do not recall why either seemed appropriate but both were on sale. What about my boyfriend? I got him the most amazing gift last year. I peaked. No gift will ever be as sweet and unexpected and now it will just be year after year of total disappointment. He'll open his gift and say thank you but in his eyes I'll see him thinking, "remember that year that you got me something I actually wanted? that was nice"

And then there are those damn elves. Elf on a shelf is as serious as getting a tattoo. Trust me, I have a lot of tattoos and two elves. Its the same. Not just comparable, the same. It's a commitment. A forever commitment. I can't just stop or my youngest will have abandonment issues but it's taken a left turn and spiraling down hill fast. Yesterday she taped a $10 dollar bill to an elf. I asked her why and she said it was so he would tell Santa she was being a good girl. KEEP IN MIND SHE STOLE THAT $10 FROM ME!! These elves have not encouraged her to behave so that Santa gets a good report they have shown her a loophole in the system. She doesn't actually have to behave, the elves just have to say she did and Gwen believes every elf has a price. For the last week instead of brainstorming ideas for staging those two elves in cute and clever ways, I've been brainstorming ideas to make their tragic ending look like an accident. Charlie isn't here to stop me.

There are too many and yet not enough Christmas gatherings to attend. I've got classroom parties, choir performances, dance recitals, family parties, and a work gathering. And here is the great part, 90% ARE ALL ON THE SAME NIGHT. WTF?! I've decided if I ever host a Christmas party it will be on November 2nd and when my invitee's whine "it's not even Christmas yet" I will respond "exactly! That's why this should be fun." Christmas is a week away and I can only assume Charlie is dead. While trying to think of a game for a classroom full of fourth graders the only game I got excited about was a game I call "shut the #@$% up and eat your cookie." I can't play that though or they'll never let me volunteer in the class again. Oh hell. Did you see what just happened? The inevitable consequences just made that game sound more brilliant!

Somehow I have to resurrect Charlie. The way things are going if I continue to Christmas solo I am going to do irreversible psychological and emotional damage to a lot of children. It's officially a crisis. Elves will die. I still haven't bought a single present for my boyfriend. That is going to make Christmas morning sooooo awkward. But I just really don't want to do any more shopping at all and I gotta be honest when I compare the two: Christmas shopping vs no gift for a loved one. The latter seems more tolerable right? Please someone agree with me.

I'm not going to give up. There are seven days left. I am going to enjoy the shit out of all seven of them. I'm going to find that perfect gift for that perfect guy because I still have like $10.00 I think. I'm going to relax and enjoy the moment. I'm going to put the ladder used to nail lights to trees back in the garage before it snows again and I'm going to sit in front of a fire and sip marshmallow pissing quantities of cocoa. Oh wait just a minute! I've been so blind. Wine! Wine is my best friend. I named wine, wine. because I can still say wine after hanging out with wine for long periods of time. I'm going to guzzle marshmallow pissing quantities of wine by a fire. Charlie will probably reanimate just to hang out with us. Because me and wine go together like me and wine. Hallelujah! I think I just saved Christmas!! Sometimes asking yourself "WWJD?" will lead you straight to the answer you've been seeking. Cheers! Jesus and happy birthday.

That boy has a beard.....

My daughter is dating age. Not really. But she's at that age where boys and girls are really starting to take notice of each other. Somehow screaming "You're 12!" while blasting my car horn during the daily carpool drop off for junior high does nothing to damper their desires.

I've moved in to the realm as a parent where I am forced to acknowledge that many of my child's choices will have a huge and lasting impact on her future! Every step is a slippery slope towards total destruction! She's going to slip and fall and get pregnant because THAT BOY HAS A BEARD!
This is what they look like. When did they start looking like this?

I acknowledge that I may have a tendency to over react. Maybe I am overreacting about this too. Perhaps my daughter will not be affected by her environment.  That environment being 1500+ other students saturated with raging hormones.
There is adult supervision in that environment, at a ratio of 30:1. That's pretty good right? NO! No it is not! At home there is a ratio of 5:1 and I have no idea what the $%#@ is going on!! No idea at all. If I can't keep track of 5 that I dearly love how are teachers looking out for a minimum of 30? Seriously? Those teachers are far less invested than I am. That's not an insult to teachers, that's just a truth. I'm in this for life not just 5 days a week for 9 or so months. I work around the clock to keep these guys in line. I have a slipping grip on my sanity and no end in sight, and I can't give up. Quitting is not an option. Teachers have an entirely different perspective. They only have to survive 35 minutes and a bell signals relief. "Tomorrow is a new day" is their mantra. Teachers float by because they can dream of June and sunshine and never again seeing these %$$#@&#. For a teacher, a few students flirting in class is insignificant, they turned in their assignments that's all that matters to a teacher. I disagree with that. If that bearded man child is sweet talking my baby girl during class you can bet your sweet ass that that assignment, that entire basket of assignments is not getting turned in for grades. It is going to be booked as evidence in a very heinous, yet very creative, assault case. I'll give him a %$#@&% paper cut.

Let's face it folks. I'm not over reacting. A slip and fall and pregnant scenario is sadly and horribly a very real threat at this age. I thought of some preventative measures that while amusing and likely effective are also just mean. Do you remember junior high? Wasn't there always a kid that smelled like urine and cheese? Was that kid really just super hygienically impaired or were we witnessing the madness of a parental genius? Think about it. That kid got teased, but that kid also got great grades, and most importantly that kid did not get ANY ACTION. The teasing thing probably sucked a little for him but I bet the academic scholarship was tits! right? I can not be the only mother that is tempted to pee on her children before they leave for school. It's a reasonable strategy once explained. (just to be clear I ran that idea by a few people and it's not a reasonable strategy, the word unacceptable was tossed around. As well as phrases like "obligated to report....")

I tried testing the water with some professionals. The orthodontist informed me that he would absolutely not be willing to use his knowledge and skills to "wire them up to make it worse" I was kidding but he seemed serious. The lady at the salon will not "go at it blindfolded after consuming her body weight in beer" That was at a great clips and I was volunteering to buy the beer! Good old crazy eyebrows at the tanning salon was all for giving the kids a once over until I said it was because nothing is more unattractive then a spray tan. That might have offended the Oompa Loompa. The lady at the health food store was not aware of any vitamins that would cause a horribly disfiguring rash that had no serious side effects and no accompanying itchiness. She didn't seem bothered by the strangeness of the inquiry. Which I find disturbing. The reality is I can't do any of these things because therapy is so expensive and my daughter doesn't have a job.

If my daughter is going to remain attractive despite my best efforts, and she is going to spend her days in a cesspool of puberty with little adult interference, how do I keep her a child for a few more years? I can't. It's all on her. That is frightening in a debilitating kind of way. I don't think for one moment that she has any desire or plan to...... "grow up too soon" but THAT BOY HAS A BEARD!

REMINDER

The other day a friend of mine posted a question on her Facebook asking other parents if they read their child's texts, Facebook messages, emails, etc. I was the only parent that said no. I don't do that and I don't want to. I'm probably wrong. I'm probably disillusioned about how much trust you can place in your child and how much you have to guard them from "what's out there". But it seems wrong. It seems like exactly the right thing to do to keep your child safe but it also seems so wrong.  When I think about logging in to their accounts in their absence and reading through their private exchanges between friends vs peeing on them on their way out the door. I'd have an easier time peeing on them. Peeing on them actually seems more noble. I would rather pee on them, have an orthodontist distort their teeth, let a drunken barber shave half hazardous, and let a crazy person paint them orange, I would rather do all of that than invade their privacy. 

To all the parents currently using social media to keep an eye on their kids. I don't judge you. I don't disagree with your logic. One of these days you are going to stumble on to a conversation or interaction and you are going to have the opportunity to interfere before poor choices are made. Your rules and restrictions and overseeing is going to pay off. I don't doubt that. I agree, and yet I just can't do it.

BUT DAMN IT THAT BOY HAS A BEARD!! When did junior high students start looking like metro sexual predators? Why can't I walk by one with out gawking at them as if they are carnies. I swear to all that is holy there is a kid at that school that could play Santa. WTF?! Evidence of increasing testosterone is not good for my blood pressure.
My girl is a good kid. A really good kid. And we talk about everything. I really really want to believe that I'm doing it right. That building a relationship based on trust and respect, that encourages open and honest dialogue is enough. All she has to do is keep me informed and follow my advice when its serious, and all I have to do is hold tight to the reins on the insanity horse and trust she'll make good choices.
Plus I Googled chlamydia and I'm going to use those pictures during our next "birds and the bees" talk. I won't mention they are photos of diseased anatomy. She'll be scarred for life. I'm a genius.

What day is it?

It's been awhile since my last blog and I'm not feeling overly creative because I feel like trash. So I thought I would just mention a couple of Gwensday moments. (To answer the obvious question/concern yes I am horribly ill. To some it may just sound like a mild cough, bronchial irritation, maybe seasonal allergy related. But I'm pretty sure it's tuberculosis and all my friends at hypochondriacs anonymous agree. The end is at hand.)

It's Gwensday again. It's always Gwensday at my house. My youngest daughter is Gwen and she has been turning every day in to Gwensday since the Gwensday she was born.

If you have just one child don't read this blog. You won't understand. You'll say sweet silly things like "why don't you spend more one on one time with her?" "keep her busy with educational activities" "try a schedule" or "I would never let my child -" let me stop you right there. not because I have a response. I just want you to stop making suggestions. I'm not trying to be rude. I just think you are an idiot and despite all of your imaginary parenting know how.... Gwen would eat you alive.

Gwensday - CLUE....
Gwen plays clue. The board game. But not like the rules suggest. She places a weapon in every room. You roll the dice and enter a room. Once you are in that room you now possess that weapon and the next person who rolls and enters that room you kill with aforementioned weapon. If you make the obvious choice of just not entering rooms that are occupied by a pawn with weapons, Gwen will roll the dice and come after you. The roll of the dice has nothing to do with how many spaces Gwen can move when hunting you down and everything to do with how many times she can hit your pawn with her pawn during your murder. If you think this game sounds abhorrent just wait until you are playing to win and you find yourself arguing with a five year old the logic that your pawn has a gun and therefor beats her pawn who only has a rope. It is a moment indeed. It sounds as if the last man standing wins. No. Gwen wins. When you play Clue with Gwen she beats you. In the library. With a candlestick. No matter how many times you shoot her.

Gwensday - Robitussin...
Gwen once drank a bottle of Robitussin. Don't judge me! All precautions were taken to keep any and all medicine out of reach. But Gwen is fast and determined and she also apparently really likes the taste of cherry/ass syrup. I rushed her to the ER. It is the one and only enjoyable visit to the ER that has ever existed. Everyone involved enjoyed the experience. The waiting room, the triage nurse, the old man who thought he was having a heart attack. And mostly the doctor. It was an interesting exam. Gwen refused to sit up or lay down. She just stood on the hospital bed with a Popsicle in her mouth while a colorful puddle of drool pooled at her feet. The doctor after repeatedly reassuring me she was in no real danger, listened to her heart. As he did so, Gwen reached out with her finger, pressed on the doctors nose and said "boop". Really loud. Over and over and over. The fun didn't stop that night either. A year later we were at my mothers house. She has a picture of Christ hanging in her hallway. Gwen stood staring at it. And then had the following conversation with my little brother Kevin.
Gwen: "I miss that guy"
Kevin: "Jesus?"
Gwen: "Yep"
Kevin: "When did you meet him?"
Gwen: "The night I drank that cough syrup"
(I told you not to judge me. You are judging me right now.)

Gwensday - This little piggy went to market....
One rainy afternoon the desire for donuts and a popsicle far outweighed the logistics of going to the grocery store. The logistics being a) she didn't know where the store was. b) the closest store was a mile away. c) she had no money. d) it was raining. e) she wasn't wearing any pants.
See what happened was, I ran an errand. I was gone for maybe twenty minutes. Both of the twins were at home with Gwen along with my brother, Kevin. And my father. I returned from my errand and noticed Gwen was not with my father. She was not with my brother. She was not with either of the twins.... Okay, so she walked to the park behind the house again because I had yet to find a threat or punishment that had deterred her from doing that. Nope. Not there. I drove around the block. No sign of her. Searched the house again. Nothing. Started to panic. We all drove around the neighborhood. We ran through the house yelling her name, looking under beds and behind couches. Nothing. It was raining and I had no idea where she was or when she left and I had been searching for at least ten minutes. I called the police. My voice shaking I tried to calmly give the details to the dispatcher. She interrupted me. She had just received a call from a grocery store near my address. There was a little girl there. She was wearing a scarf over her head, large brown monkey boots, shorts and a tank top. A child with a description you cannot give without laughing...could only be Gwen.
I rushed to the store thinking Gwen must be so scared. NOPE. She was shoplifting. Her defense, and I quote "Well, I don't have any money, I'm 4!" Apparently she had walked to the store, a mile, gotten a grocery cart and placed several items in it. Ice cream, soda, cookies.... and then she had gone to the donut case. There she found a nice man to help her reach the donuts on the higher shelf and put them in a box. After he assisted her it occurred to him that a small scantily clothed child wearing giant boots and a scarf tied over her head might be cause for alarm. Before Gwen made it out the door the man had alerted an employee. This is the best part. When the store manager asked for her name, she said "Olivia" The girl gave an alias at four!! A smart one too. Olivia is her middle name, easy to remember, hard to get tripped up when questioned.
(STOP JUDGING ME!)

Gwensday - Facetime
Gwen loves facetime. Her favorite thing to do is take the ipad and facetime you. The call lasts about ten seconds. She hides. When the call connects all you can see is darkness and a little tiny face. She stares in to the screen and then suddenly yells "Guess where I'm calling you from?!" then disconnects. I don't know why this particular game rattles me so much because I know she's in the house somewhere. The Ipad only works on our WiFi so she is definitely in the house. That knowledge is not comforting. She scares the crap out of me every time. It is just SO CREEPY.

Gwen is my youngest. I learned with the older three that all children have a unique personality. No matter how hard you try to mold them in to your idea of who they should be, it won't stick. Right from the beginning they start choosing their own path and their own mode of travel. Keep them safe, be an example of where that path should lead, and enjoy them. Gwen is a unique little girl. She's sweet, and funny. Some would say she misbehaves or some would even say she is bad. She's not. She's wonderful and she's good where it matters. She would never steal (except for that shoplifting thing) or lie (except for that alias thing) or hurt anyone (unless you're a character in her version of clue). She's perfectly normal and just like any other little girl who happens to also be a fiercely independent genius criminal mind.

I wish you all luck. She started Kindergarten this year which means I've unleashed her. We did give her a little advice...

Be Kind

Be Brave

Be You

12 Weeks of Summer....or 12 Weeks until I am a raving mad lunatic

May 29th school was finally out for the summer. It wasn't just an exciting time for the kids. For me it meant no more harassing anyone about homework, no more morning panics because we were already late and 50% of my children had not eaten breakfast or brushed their hair or teeth. Maybe it's just at my house, but why is someone always missing one shoe? How does that keep happening? Do they take off one shoe and then run into another room to take off the other? I personally have never come home and then become so caught up in a shoe removing frenzy that I can not later recall what happened. Apparently it's common place around here though since my children seem to do it every time they walk in the door.
In the beginning 12 weeks of summer sounds absolutely marvelous. Freedom. Relaxing. Ideal. And then...... you spend 12 weeks with all of your children at once. This is a week by week glimpse of how my summer has unfolded so far.
Week 1, 11 to go:
My sweet sweet babies, we are going to do so much!!! Road trips and festivals and water parks! I am so excited to spend quality time with you guys. Bring on the sun!
Stop touching him. He asked you to stop toughing him so stop touching him. Where did Gwen go?
Week 2, 10 to go:
Alright little ones, June has started, swimming pools are open. I love the feeling of the sun on my skin. Nothing on the calendar but R-E-L-A-X. Right? Looks like someone spilled some popcorn last night let's get it picked up and head to the pool. By the way guys, I bought six boxes of otter pops for the summer and they're gone. That's SIX HUNDRED otter pops. I bought them yesterday. Please tell me it was a group effort because if Gwen ate all of them herself she now has diabetes. Speaking of, has anyone seen Gwen?
Week 3, 9 to go:
Family meeting time kiddos. I've noticed it's gotten kind of messy around here. No big deal though. I've assigned everyone a chore and if we can work together we can stay on top of it and have more time for fun!! Why are you crying Audrey? Hannah don't call her that, it's just mean. Josh I'm trying to talk can you put down your video game for a minute please? Larissa no one stole your stuffed animal you just need to look for it. Has anyone seen Gwen?
Week 4, 8 to go:
Okay kids, things around the house are getting......sticky. Audrey was finger painting with syrup? Are you serious right now? Is that what happened to the kitchen floor? No? Are you sure? Because when you walk from one side to the other it sounds like Velcro being ripped apart. Isn't anyone else grossed out about that? Just me? I mopped yesterday is the thing... so how in one day is it this bad? It seems like a lot of work had to have gone in to this level of adhesion, but none of you remember if you spilled something? That is very mysterious. Speaking of mysteries. Has anyone seen Gwen?
Week 5, 7 to go:
Children! Pick a location, back yard or front yard. Stop running through the house. Why is everything wet? Where did you guys get water guns? I know better than to buy that many water guns. Why do toy makers even make a child's toy that can hold that much liquid. It's just stupid. I can't even clean it up. All the towels are in the laundry room. You guys have used every single towel in two days. How do we have this much laundry to do already? This appears to be the contents of everyone's closets. Do you guys change your clothes 15 times a day? Why is the linen closet open? The linen closet is completely empty. Where are all the sheets and blankets? Why are all of those blankets outside? No no no no don't use blankets as towels! Oh no that one is a quilt. What did you do with the sheets? Stairs? Okay no. That game is over. That is exactly how I broke my collar bone at your age. Has anyone seen Gwen? Is that glitter?!!!
Week 6, 6 to go:
Listen up guys. I got in to the car this morning to run to the grocery store and I felt like I was driving a dumpster. My car is filled to the brim with garbage. I want all of you to go out there and get all of your belongings out of my car and then I want all of you to WORK TOGETHER and get all of your trash. Hannah you just rolled your eyes so hard I'm worried about your vision. The eye is a muscle ya know, you can strain it. That makes you roll your eyes too? Are you working out? Is that how you flex your eyeballs Hannah? Larissa don't say the mess in the car wasn't you. You are in the car just as much as everyone else and I can name ten things that belong to you just by looking through the window. Audrey! Why are you licking your shoe? That is disgusting! No I wont buy you more fireworks Joshua. Does anyone know why one of our garbage cans is missing. Has anyone seen Gwen? It's been awhile, before we clean the car lets fan out and canvas the neighborhood. Ask if anyone has seen a small child pushing a large trash can. And ask if anyone else is missing.
Week 7, 5 to go:
You listen to me! I don't want to hear one more argument. The next person to argue I'm going to boil. Whoa! I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. I'm not even sure where that came from. I'm a little stressed, go play outside for awhile. Mommy is going to just relax and recharge. Somebody find Gwen. Look in the backyard we still haven't cut the grass back there this year. she might just be standing back there. lost.

Week 8, 4 to go:

We are going on a trip my little minions. I think we could all use a nice break away from the house. Everyone go pack. I'm going to clean up so we can return to a nice clean house. I honestly don't care what you pack. I'm not going to stress. This is going to be fun. I just heard the front door. Gwen? I'm pretty sure she is naked. Run and get her.

Week 9, 3 to go:

You people want to go camping now? After that excursion in to the bowels of hell last week? I know what I promised but come on! We just spent a LOT of time together. In a car. Audrey forgot to bring shoes, Joshua didn't pack any pants, and all that was in Gwen's suitcase was an umbrella. Which at first seemed stupid but who was mocking who when it rained all week? What do you mean that was fun? Oh my sweet mother of pearl. What did I just sit in? It's wet but it's not liquid. There is definitely some shape. It's hard to determine what that shape it is just by the way it feels with my butt and I'm afraid to touch it with my hand. I'm afraid to stand up. I don't want to know. I don't want to ever know. I have no exit strategy for this. Find Gwen and just trap her in her room. Do you think we can get a vet to put one of those chips in her?
Week 10, 2 to go: 
If I could get your attention swine. It's noon...and you all just woke up. Can anyone guess where I'm going with this? Raise your hand if you have showered this week. That's what I thought. All we have mastered this summer is a whole new smell. I've made everyone a schedule. We need to get back on track. This week we are going to clean and try to teach Gwen at least some of the alphabet before she starts Kindergarten. Does anyone else feel like first thing in the morning EVERY MORNING our house looks like the houses you see on the news that have been hit by hurricanes? On a daily basis our house passes the point one could say we need to clean up and settles in to a condition that one could say requires disaster relief. If someone came to the door right now I would be humiliated by this mess. I would pretend there was a break in. I would. That is what I would do. I would make up a story about crazed drug addicted delinquents who like to color. I would claim they stole all of our nice stuff and replaced all of our valuable with these stuffed animals they brought with them in their van. I know they were driving a van because they would need a cargo van for this many stuffed animals, toys, and worthless crap. Our next backyard fire I am using at least 25 things named fluffy for kindling and I bet you won't even realize which ones are gone. Oh! Nice to see you Gwen! I threaten to light your loved ones on fire and suddenly you appear. Big mistake little girl! I have now found your weakness. Take note of that every one next time she is missing just hold a flame to a bear and like magic Gwen returns. WAIT! forget everything I just said. That spiraled out of control. No one is allowed to play with fire or burn anything that belongs to anyone else. I want you all to acknowledge that you heard and understand no one lights anything on fire.

Which bring us to now..
I'm still in the middle of week 10. I miss school. A lot. If I were a teacher this is the week I would go on strike and ask for more money. Because if someone told me right now that teachers were striking and my children might not go back to school in two weeks..... I would be willing to do things. Things I wouldn't even consider doing for a Klondike bar.
Despite the inevitable and seemingly unavoidable slide in to chaos I'm proud. I have made it this far and none of the kids have been beaten (knock on wood) (Knock really hard it helps get the frustration out and it smothers the temptation). The house does, despite all odds, get cleaned every day (One day last week it was only clean for maybe two minutes but that counts. It counts because I refuse to acknowledge defeat) I don't have a serious and understandable drinking problem. (I'm not going to confirm or deny rumors that I have treated myself to a few wine tastings. Alone. In the dark. Just me and the sound of my laughter. Mostly because I only have very foggy recollections and I can't be entirely certain if those are memories or dreams...)
Unlike the frequency of my late night grape juice what can not be denied is at the end of every summer I am a total lunatic. Not because I start making crazy threats to try to force the kids to behave. Not because I have Google searched child sized kennels and hovered over the add to cart button on many many occasions. Not because I really do burn their stuff (Oh come on! I don't know what to do with all that stuff the teachers send home at the end of the year! I tell the kids I'm saving it in a memory box forever but I don't have that kind of storage space and even if I did, that's just stupid.)
The real reason I am a raving mad lunatic at the end of every summer is because I know for certain two weeks from now, once I've dropped them all off at school, I will return home. It will be quiet. It will be clean. It will be calm. And I will immediately miss all of those little A-holes.
I wonder how long I'll really be able to relax until the school calls and some poor secretary is forced to inform me that they have misplaced my kindergartner. I bet the Principal makes the call. I bet Gwen answers my phone.

I don't think Gwen is studying the map to Bear World so that she can give me directions...

It's time to juice (not really but that sounds so exciting and dramatic doesn't it?)

In my last blog I may have casually mentioned I was slightly irritated that I'm exercising quite a bit but I'm not getting in to better shape. I've come to realize that I'm left with two options. I can either work harder or find a short cut. I think we both know where this is going......

I'm going to stop you right there. I realize that there is a third option. I can almost hear you all chanting "how's your diet?, how's your diet?, how's your diet?" It's shit okay. My diet is shit. But I'm not ready for that kind of commitment just yet. Right now I'm still courting a healthy diet. I'm taking a healthy diet out a few times a month. I find myself smiling when I think about a healthy diet and I together on a beach somewhere. I may have had a few questionable dreams that I don't feel comfortable discussing about a healthy diet. But I'm not ready to take it any further. I just lost Two-a-day naps, I can't lose donuts right now. I'm not ready.

Look at that. That looks sooooo good. I now want a donut so bad I would gut kick an elderly person and rip it out of their hands and then I would ride in to the sunset on their rascal. Speaking of rascals my grandmas rascal is missing if anyone has seen an abandoned rascal in the West Valley area please leave a comment so we can get that old broad her wheels back. (million bucks says I get a dozen texts or phone calls informing me that I'm an insensitive asshole before sundown. Don't bother mom I already know!)

Where were we.....right. With diet off the table I have two options, work harder or find a short cut. I know the value of hard work and I'm committed to making a positive change for the better. So short cut it is!!

Steroids right? Am I right? NO. We don't even know where to buy those and the last time I whispered something to a meat head in the gym I almost lost an arm. Apparently there are certain words that trigger a hulk like response in those who "roid" it up regularly. Any words actually. Any words at all will create a situation. Stick with grunts and avoid eye contact.

Back to my short cut. my biggest issue right now is I'm always out of breath. During the swim, during the bike, during the run. I can't f@$%ing breathe man! I do have asthma and that might be the cause of my problem but let's not focus on that tiny detail. Let's pretend there is a solution. It keeps me busy. I have a prescription I used to take that helped my body by delaying an asthma attack and I suppose I could just start taking that again BUT the side effects are horrible, one of which is weight gain. Are we solving problems or are we multiplying them ladies and gentleman? Plus it gives me horrible headaches and the shakes. Who can work out when they feel like they are having tiny epileptic fits? Not me.

So I did a little research (that what I say when I google something, it sounds so scientificy and time consuming and I bet you imagine me doing it in glasses. I do) and I came across a few supplements that may be the answer to my little respiratory issue.

Rhodiola - Himalayan root used by the Sherpa people to “adapt” to the stress of living and working at high altitudes. Sherpa climbers chew on rhodiola for an energy and endurance boost when helping mountaineers scale Mt. Everest. One mechanism for rhodiola’s anti-fatigue effects is an enhancement of oxygen efficiency. 

Umm Yeah. I can picture myself popping one in the mouth and then casually mentioning its an ancient secret for scaling everest. How cool is that? (Please let there be a pill I can swallow, in my experience root always tastes like ass)

Cordyceps - Tibetan mushroom used for “lung protection” and to balance the “Qi” – the fundamental “energy of life.” In clinical studies, cordyceps results in significant improvements in fatigue, oxygen uptake, and endurance exercise performance.

This is great because I was telling a friend just the other day how out of whack my Qi has been since the inversion. Like my grampy used to say "You have to go all Tibetan on it if you want results." 

I'm a liar. My grandfather has never been referred to as grampy and I am fairly certain he has never said you have to go all Tibetan if you want results. Then again..... I wasn't there on the wedding night so maybe he did. 

Eurycoma - Malaysian ginseng. Eurycoma contains a group of small peptides that are effective in restoring the balance between the catabolic hormone cortisol and the anabolic hormone testosterone.

I blame everything on cortisol. Cortisol is a real asshole. 

That's the new plan. I don't know where to get any of these things, or how to take them, or if they are legal. But I'm going to do a little more research (googling) and then hopefully take them out for a test drive. Perhaps my next blog will be a plea for fire retardant running pants because of the time my crazy fast running created so much friction in the thigh area I lit myself on fire.