Stumbling Towards Perfect

Hey. Wanna know what this is? This is a nice note left on my computer. My work computer. The one that's not my personal computer. The one that I shouldn't be messing around on. Want to know who it's from? The guy in the IT Department. Want to know what he's all done with? Getting rid of the child porn viruses that I got from trying to find a freaking Skippy Peanut Butter coupon. Let me explain: No, I didn't google child porn. That's sick. Besides, if I'm going to look up porn it's going to be fat people porn because that way I can watch and feel good about my body. But like I said, I didn't google child porn. I googled 'skippy peanut butter coupon'. Pretty dang clear if you ask me. See, normally I don't bother with coupons but lately there's been all these extreme couponing shows on TV. You know, the ones where some lady gets $2,000 worth of groceries of $6.78. Not that I personally need 87 bottles of hot sauce and 32

Here is a story about the time I had a flat tire. Which was actually only two days ago. I packed three kids in the car, got as far as the end of the block, and realized something wasn't right . Which is to say my tire was flat and I probably shouldn't drive on it so instead I drove three miles per hour home and silently sobbed in my head because how was I going to function without a car ? Then I called my mom, who stopped playing Scrabble with my elderly grandmother in order to come to our rescue and take the Bean to work. ( Yes, she has work !) And then I sent a picture text to Big V that read "Flat Tire Fail." Being the Knight in Shining Armor that he is, he called and said something like I'm not going to be home for another hour or two and then I have to play softball and I need to get there early to practice batting so I'm not sure what you want me to do about it. And I said in my most calmest voice ever oh, I don't need you to do anythin

I had just sat down in my comfy chair with a large bowl of steaming chili (those of you who know me know I like to have my food extra-piping hot, at scalding level) when I spied movement from outside the window. Mary. The dog walker. Was back. Risking the flesh on my thighs, I quickly tossed my bowl on the end table, leaped across the living room furniture and frantically grabbed my camera. What is with this woman's fascination with our yard? I get that it's the least manicured lot on the block but our house hardly looks vacant. Plus, I've told her before to keep off our yard. To her face. So she knows we live there. Unless she suffers from memory loss. I ran to the front of the house and down the front steps, ignoring the fact it was noon and I was still sporting my baby blue pajama pants that had glow-in-the-dark kittens printed on them. I don't know if you can tell how into our yard she actually is. I should really take a photo from the side. In this pho

Last night I went to meet two of my friends at Starbucks. This was good news because my kids were driving me crazy and I didn't feel like cooking dinner. Except we weren't going to meet until 8 which meant I still had to do something for dinner so I went for the Fun Mom Option and bought McDonald's. Then I hightailed it out of there. Only 1 of my friends could make it because the other one was busy doing something called moving into a new home while still trying to take care of three small children  and let's be honest, that sort of behavior should just be outlawed. Being the stellar friends we are, we decided we would get a treat for Friend #2 and deliver it to her and also check to see if she was still somewhat sane and functioning, because we are caring people like that . Actually, it was totally Friend #1's idea, I just nodded my head and agreed with her. Not because I didn't want to do it, it's just that my mind doesn't work that way... you know

So, as you may or may not know I'm raising money for the American Cancer Society Relay For Life because it's important. Sometimes I think they should just make every single person in the US pay just 99 cents a year and then maybe we could do some serious business in regards to detecting and treating cancers. So if I was president that's what I'd do. But no one will let me be president because they're all you signed those confidentiality statements back in 1992 and that would create serious problems if any of that got out. Anyway, my idea was to have people donate just 99 cents  at this blog I set up and - HOLY BALLS! People are doing it!! Even if you don't want to donate, that's cool. I just ask that you send the link on - maybe tweet it, or Facebook it or toss it from little pieces of paper dropped from airplanes. Just help get the word out. Okay, maybe not the dropping paper thing. That's considered littering and if you read today's post  yo

I have a friend on Facebook who is always posting these pictures of beautiful flowers and her beautiful gardens and her posts make it seem so easy . (Yes, Stephanie, I'm talking about you .) When I look at her photos I think (1) I want that. And (2) I can do that! Except me and flowers have an understanding: until such time as I can afford a competent landscaper I am not allowed to plant them, which only results in torturing them. And yet I desperately want my yard to be one of "those yards." The kind of yeard where people stop by and admire and say things like:  I bet the people who live here are English. The English have always been known for their gardens. And their basement windows . I figured I should start small. And seeds are small so that's as good a place as any to start. Just put them in the dirt, right? But then I remembered all the watering and that just scared me. Too much, too little, not the right time of the day - so much can go wrong.... And th

I'd tell you something funny but nothing really funny has been happening, unless you count the feeling I've had for the past four days of wanting to punch Big V in the throat. But that's like, less funny and more criminal, so nevermind. Also, my head hurts because I think I've got this totally cool way to raise money for the American Cancer Society but it included creaing a PayPal Button and hello?! I just learned to text. So this whole world of buttons and java script and widgets is not making me want to write, but rather making me want to drink a LOT of wine. But I can't because my kid has a school fundraiser tonight and she goes to a private Christian school. I'm not sure how they feel about drunks showing up. Here's a sample of the skeleton blog I've created for my fundraiser. But it gets better. Oh, yes. It gets better! But I'll get into that tomorrow. Unless I'm hungover. Then I'll be busy trying not to dry heave. Oh -- the link:

Sometimes the 9-year old can be, how shall we say? - incredibly literal . A good example of this was the other day when I overheard her on the phone leaving a message for one of her friends: "Hi. This is Dotter. I want to come over to your house so call me back." I gasped in horror and said, "Honey! We don't just invite ourselves over to someone's house!" To which she replied, "But I want to go over there." Because, duh, that's what she wanted to do. So I said, "I get that... but you cannot just call people up and say 'I want to come over to your house' okay?" The next day I overheard her calling again -- this time the mom answered: "Hi. This is Dotter. I'm not allowed to say 'I want to come over to your house' but I want to play at your house, so can I?"

Why not go out on a limb? Isn't that where the fruit is? ~Frank Scully I grew up desperately wanting to be in theatre but I was always told that was stupid and only gays and lesbians were in theatre. For a while I believe my family seriously questioned my sexuality. And although I loved the theatre with all my heart ( there is nothing as magical as that moment in a cool, darkened theatre, united in silence, waiting in anticipation for the lights to go up ) I was also logical enough to know I would never actually make any money in theatre. That’s why actors are all waiters and waitresses and the only experience I ever had with food was working at Subway for a year in high school, but we didn’t have to carry those huge, heavy trays with breakable plates on them. Although the worse thing I ever dropped was a slice of salami, I knew I probably wouldn’t be making any money waitressing either. (I have very weak upper arm strength.) So, I figured if I could get a job teaching English

Ever wanted to know how to waste an entire night of sleep? First, when it's an obvious time to actually go to bed, say 10 o'clock pm, go through the entire house and start putting away anything that appears out of place. Put the shoes back nicely on the rug. Take the dirty glasses off the coffee table and put them in the kitchen sink. Decide now would be an appropriate time to scrub off the sticky residue from the side of the kitchen cabinet where twenty years ago one of those pale pink plastic pot holder hooks was once attached and how you've never bothered to try to remove it in the three years you've lived in this house but somehow you must remove it right now this very second . Rush yourself to bed by eleven o'clock, because now it's getting late, and quickly recognize it is way too flipping hot in the bedroom but also notice how incredibly lazy you actually are so decide to just sweat it out. Wiggle your feet and start getting fidgety because there is

From the 15-year old Bean last night: "Mom, can you tell Big V that he shouldn't sleep naked anymore? Because the other night I was texting and my phone was running out of battery but I set the alarm so I could wake up at three in the morning because I like to get up and shower with enough time for my hair to dry so I can do it at six when I have to get ready for school and since I was going to take a shower anyway I thought I would just use your charger in your bedroom and just get my phone when I was done showering because I do that sometimes and then I opened the door and the light from the hallway showed me that Big V wasn't covered up with a sheet or blanket and I saw everything - and I mean ev-er-y-thing - and then I had to sneak in your room by walking with my back to the bed to get to your side where the phone charger was and that wasn't as easy as you would think but I couldn't just walk around like hey, I don't care that your junk is hanging out .&q

The Bean is my unbelievably gorgeous 15-year old daughter. The one who spends hours making sure every hair is in place, her outfit is the epitome of perfection, and her make-up looks flawless. She's my oldest. The one who championed me with the title 'Mother.' During the week she wakes up before me and is out the door for school before my alarm even goes off. So I send her a text message. Every. Single. Morning. Really? Seriously? THIS IS GROSS!! Honestly, this is disgusting. Don't let it happen again. WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU????? OH MY GOD! Seriously??? Do you honestly think this is okay? As God is my witness I am going to smack you into next week if I see this one more time. ARE YOU TRYING TO DRIVE ME INSANE??? I know you're doing this on purpose. And you know what? I'm taking away your toothbrush. And the toothpaste. Let your teeth rot. I could care less. AT LEAST I WON'T HAVE TO LOOK AT THIS NASTINESS EVERY SINGLE BLASTED MORNING!

I lied to my dentist. I actually switched dentists so I could tell this lie. And I'm not talking that standard  I floss my teeth all the time lie y'all do when you know you haven't busted out the floss since 2007. I'm talking about a really big lie. A lie so big it's actually written in my chart . I have sensitive teeth . Except I really don't, see? I mean, once in a while I do, especially when I don't floss for a day or eight months, or bite into something super cold and the pain shoots through the nerve so fast I think I'm about to pass out, so I've actually experienced a sensitive tooth but it might not actually be an on-going all the time kind of problem like perhaps I may have suggested to the dental professionals. And now it's written on my chart. But I had to say it because get this - if you have non-sensitive teeth these crazy fools use some sort of water pick cleaning technique that pretty much amounts to torture and

Sometimes, after a particularly long, hard day at work, I'll come home, walk into the house, and, upon entering, attempt to flee again. Because these people are so wanting of my attention . The Bean will run up rambling about how even though her birthday is a couple months from now, she thought about it and what she wants to do is ask for money so she can summer out on the East Coast, like every other struggling middle class teenager. At the same time Dotter will be broadcasting the fact that we need to bring a salad to the banquet dinner tomorrow night, which leaves me wondering what we possibly do that requires attendance at a banquet dinner and a salad? Cletus will be screeching at the top of his lungs, "Mom-mEEE! Mom-mEEE! Moooo! Moooo! Twak-ta? Twak-ta?" while clawing at my legs and Big V will be creeping up from behind, wrapping his arms around me and pushing his man parts into my backside like I'm not going to notice and muttering something about how he did a

(1) Dressing rooms should be split between "Teens & Other Perky Bodies" and "Those Who Gave Birth Before You Damn Teeny Boppers Were Even Born." (2) I am a pear. Regardless of what body shape I might have been two child-births ago, I am now, most definitely, a pear. (3) Items at Barnes & Noble are one size fits all. Items at Victoria Secret are not. (4) The soft pretzels with nacho cheese dip can make any shopping experience worthwhile. (5) Because of this, I will, more than likely, always be a pear. (6) I'm strangely okay with this because I like to read. A lot. (7) I really like Barnes & Noble. (8) I don't really need new clothes because I have sweatpants. (9) So does Big V. (10) I also really like soft pretzels with nacho cheese dip.

Big V can be kind of, uh, spontaneous . Not so much in the look at these beautiful flowers I am giving you for no other reason than I just thought you would like them kind of way, but more in the I just gave away your bicycle to some strange man sifting through our garbage kind of way. In his defense, my bike had a flat tire. (That was his defense. It is in no way, shape or form, supported by me.) Obviously, if the tire is flat the bike shall then be rendered unusable, right? And he had been in the process of cleaning out the garage, which was why there were cans of garbage at the end of the driveway beckoning the homeless to sift through and the creepy guy did take that stupid stainless steel kitchen sink that isn't worth a dime so he kind of deserved something good, right? Which leads us to the fun little child cart that the bike used to pull. The cart that Cletus the Used to be Fetus LOVES to ride in. The cart that Big V was smart enough to save.... ... yet not smart e