Tuesday, January 30, 2007

Happy Birthday to me

So, 27 years ago today, my mom was in labor. Two weeks late and focusing on a picture of a wave (which in the birthday email that she sent me she informed me that she was about ready to tell my dad to get the *$%^@!* picture out of her face and get something for the pain), my birth was evidently a family celebration. I remember the birthday cards that my grandma used to give me where she would retell the story of the day I was born. Grandma was so excited that she burnt half a loaf of bread trying to make herself some toast before going to the hospital. Mom and Dad were so excited that they could hardly contain the joy bursting forth. They tell me how proud they are of me. How happy I've made their lives. And every year when I would get grandma's birthday card, tears would stream down my face. There was nothing better in the world than my grandma telling you she was proud of you. Because she wasn't just proud, she was darn near ready to take out a full page ad in the paper about how much she loved you.

Twenty-seven is kind of one of those meaningless birthdays. Much like 17. You aren't exactly making any milestones. Last year marked the cross-over from mid-20's. And I'm nowhere close to 30 (although it's much closer than I'm quite ready to admit).

I'm so not where I thought I was going to be by this point in my life, but I would not have it any other way. I probably haven't accomplished very much in the grand scheme of the world, but I feel pretty darn successful. I have two awesome kids, great friends, an incredible husband, and a good job. So what more could you possibly need, right?

I'm off to continue my little celebration of me. So far I've had breakfast at Starbuck's, bought some new hair color (ginger red), and played annoying computer games. I intend to spend the rest of my afternoon preparing for the sock hop tonight. It's not the greatest birthday day, but I can't complain. :)

Friday, January 26, 2007

Don't Mess with the Glamorous One

I don’t know if I’ve said it before or not, but I come from a long line of “I am woman, hear me roar!” type ladies. My grandma wasn’t above telling my grandpa exactly what he could do with that plate after he was done with it (although she would usually take the plate and put it in the sink for him anyway), and my mom always taught me to be self-reliant. To never rely on a man to do what you can do for yourself. And above all never—ever—allow a guy to disrespect you.

Well, I took all of that to heart, so I wasn’t a bit afraid of standing up to the boys. It probably helped that I was a bit of a tomboy too. My first run in with the boys was in first grade. A group of them decided that they wanted to play a game where they would try and tackle me. I agreed and they proceeded to run up to me. I proceeded to knock every single one of them on their scrawny little butts. When I heard the recess guard’s whistle blow, I knew we were in trouble. Only the boys had all scrambled and I was left standing alone. Bastards. So, I ended up with a dreaded pink slip and had to sit at the “bad” picnic tables for the rest of recess (gasp! The horror! Surely I would die from lack of playing!). Those tables were only reserved for the uber naughty of the school. You know, the ones that don’t get to play for like a whole WEEK. I sobbed and sobbed and knew there would be a call to my mom.

The resulting sentence was that I had to stay after school one time and wash tables in the classroom. That turned my pink slip into a “gold” slip for good behavior. I seethed. I would have rather taken the pink slip because my teacher was hideously evil and I hated her with a fiery passion reserved only for those in the seventh circle of hell.

My second (punishable because I was caught) run in was in seventh grade (I did pretty good, didn’t I? Five years is a long time without getting caught.) and this boy who evidently had a crush on me called me a bitch on our way out of class. This did not bode well. I asked him to repeat himself and when he did, I jumped over the desks and pushed him. So hard that he tripped backwards and crashed into the wall. No big deal except it was one of those collapsible walls that made it so two classrooms could be one big one if necessary. And the teacher next door was still in his room. He came running in (another teacher that I hated) and put two and two together. That time we both got in trouble because he admitted that he had called me names. Ha ha! I thought. That’s what he gets! I didn’t even get detention for that one. But my mom did receive another call home (seriously, I think she should have kept track of how many times she was called for my incessant behavioral issues) and I was prepared for the worst. Turns out she wasn’t that mad at me. She was proud of me for standing up to him, but recommended that next time I use my brains instead of beating him up.

When I got to school the next day, Asshole Boy came up to me. I was prepared for round two, but he had just come up to apologize about the whole thing. Then he showed me the HUGE bruise he had on his side from running into a desk as he fell. It’s horrible now, but I actually laughed. And then he asked me not to say anything to anyone because he didn’t think he’d be able to handle everyone knowing that he got beat up by a girl.

So yeah, don’t mess with me! Lol Just ask CB, he’ll tell you that’s why he was attracted to me in the first place.

Thursday, January 25, 2007

Early Run Ins with the Man

I was over at This Fish today and read her story about a run in with her third grade teacher. It reminded me of a funny story about the first time I realized how two-faced teaches can be.

It was in second grade, and I had come to school looking oh-so-glamorous in my white skort, yellow and white striped shirt, and a matching yellow (ironic, yes?) banana clip. I was feeling like the cutest girl in school. Only one problem: my hair was not cooperating. I wanted it in a side ponytail, and every time I fastened the clip, there was a one inch section of hair (basically a way-long sideburn) that would come out. So I solved it by opening my desk and pulling out my scissors. I chopped the lock of hair off and threw it in the garbage, not thinking a thing of it. After recess, while we were doing our journal writing, our teacher—Mrs. Wade—called me and two other girls with the same color hair up to her desk.

Mrs. Wade asked the other two girls if the hair was theirs and they each said no. Then she turned to me and asked “Carrie, is this your hair?”

“Yeah.” I responded, not thinking anything of it. Plus, I figured it was so much better to tell the truth from the get-go instead of lying and having to deal with the double trouble.

Boy was I wrong! After listening to a ten minute schpiel from my teacher about how wrong it was to cut my own hair, but she called my mom as well! I knew that she’d called, so as I made the walk of shame to the car, I steeled myself for what was sure to be the ass-reaming of the century. Only mom was less upset than my teacher was. In fact, she was laughing about it. She just kind of rolled her eyes at me and I was grounded for the day. Plus she was proud of me for telling the truth! So, even though I was mad for having to stay inside for the day, I did get some reinforcement that it is good to tell the truth.

So yeah, that was the second or third time that my mom got a phone call from my teacher. Tomorrow I’ll share my penchant for beating up the boys.

Monday, January 22, 2007

In A Funk

So in case you haven't noticed from the lack of posting, I've been in a bit of a funk lately. I can't even tell you when it started or why, but I've just felt. . .meh. . .lately. Maybe it's because it's almost my birthday and I've never really grown up about the idea of being spoiled rotten on my birthday. And CB's family has never been all that into big celebrations, so it's impossible to try and get the point through to him. But he did actually buy me a present this year, so maybe there's hope yet. He and Diva went to the store and picked out some delicious smelling Yankee candles. Then he found two candle holders. One says "Our Love is" and the other one says "Everlasting". Sweet, right?

Then GlamorousMom stopped by last Thursday and brought me this:
This? just might be the thing to break me out of my funk. It's fabulous! Mom also gave me some cappucino mix, so I've been doctoring it up with peppermint hershey's kisses and caramel creamer. Delicious! There's a whole section on their website dedicated to recipies for the thing. And I figure it'll be money saving too. Because I won't be fitting off to the coffee shop every time I want a coffee!

So, after I got that, I started feeling a little better. Then I woke up yesterday morning to see that my yard is no longer icky dead grass, but it's covered with glittery fresh snow! CJ didn't understand why I was so excited that it had finally snowed until I explained to him that I would take pretty snow over icky dead grass every day of the week.

Then I woke up this morning frustrated and all "woe is me". And I learned that today is supposedly the most depressing day of the year. So that shook me out of it a little bit, because I'm never one to go along with the norm.

It all changed, though, when I saw the video for Dierk's new song and saw that he CUT HIS DAMN HAIR! CB had called me and said that some DJ on the radio was whining about it, so I had a little warning. But I saw the video today and there is nothing there! No more curls! Just scruff. "Maybe he got tired of his wife nagging him to grow it out so he just buzzed it all off" was the sympathy I got from CB. "Shut up and don't even think of going near any scissors, dude." was my response to him. I've never really liked "long" hair, but I like to have something to run my fingers through, you know? And CB has gloriously thick, unbelievably soft hair when he lets it grow out. Sadly, he's usually got it cut like he just came home from boot camp. But since we have this theme party to go to in February, he's been growing it out. The theme this year is "Back to the 50's", so he's made it his mission to become Johnny Cash. Which is fine, because I love the whole "bad boy" motif he's got going on. It's freaking hot. But, he just informed me that the Saturday after the party, he's going to shave it all off again.

So, question of the day, ladies. What do you like on a man for a hairstyle? Short? Medium? Freakish 80's hairband long?

Wednesday, January 17, 2007

I'm Sorry (again)

I feel like I’ve been meeting myself coming and going lately. And what’s the worst of it is that I haven’t really been doing anything at all. Not to mention that fact that I have had absolutely no desire to blog whatsoever. But, I did say that I was going to gush about the hubs taking up guitar, so for the few people who still stop by here (I promise I will be getting around to all of your blogs again very soon!), here’s the new reason I am hopelessly in lust with my husband.

It all started this past summer. A guy from church doesn’t like playing bass guitar, so he is loaning CB his because CB would like to learn it. Then CB got really busy at work and didn’t have time to play. Then he got in this ridiculous funk (seriously, I was plotting his murder he was such an ass) that lasted until last month. Now, he’s out of the funk and (thanks in part to the new method book, music stand and guitar strap I bought him for Christmas. Push gently, people. It works every damn time.) back to playing three or four times a week. Two weeks ago it finally clicked with him enough that he feels confident to play with a group from church when they play at another church next month. I’m hoping that after this little gig (hee hee), he’ll be confident enough to play at our church.

The whole process has been really funny because he is SUCH a perfectionist (and I am not. Which is why opposites attract is an entirely true statement). He was under the impression that for him to be able to play, he needed to automatically be kick ass like Fieldy (from the band Korn) or the bassist in Green Day. I was constantly reminding him that this is these peoples’ JOB and that they have spent a good five years (at least) learning and improving. Once he got past that, he picked up the guitar and has been going strong ever since. It would be sweet if he could get to that super-pro status eventually, but I’m just happy with the fact that he’s doing it at all.

Because there is nothing hotter than a guitarist. Nothing. At least to me. Maybe it’s because I think of guitarists as the “bad boys” of the music world. You know, too cool to play an orchestra instrument, so they go back behind the music shop and buy a guitar with their own money (because we all know that their mothers DO NOT approve). Plus, there’s the whole good with their hands thing. . . .

And girls that play guitar are automatically cool in my book. I want to learn so bad, but when I read the lesson books, the stuff that I read does not compute with my fingers. Nevermind the fact that I have tiny hands and can barely reach the fourth string, let alone all five.

It’s all good though, I’ll just let CB be the famous one, and I’ll sit around figuring out good ways to spend all his money!

Wednesday, January 10, 2007

You gotta pucker up your lipsh like dish. . .

So I just got back from the dentist. Two hours of Nitrous and I feel like I got an extra night's sleep! On the downside, though, my lips feel like a duck bill and I'm kinda talking like Sebastian in the scene that the quote ^up there comes from (Little Mermaid, for those of you living under a rock and don't recognize that cute little crab). Anyway, my brain is still coming down, so for your entertainment today, I present "Redneck Pickup Lines" (Courtesy of a friend's email):

Redneck Man's pick up lines

1) Did you fart? Cuz you blew me away.

*Are yer parents retarded? Cuz ya sure are special.

*My Love fer you is like diarrhea.I can't hold it in.

*If you was a tree and I were a Squirrel,I'd store my nuts in yer hole.

*You might not be the best lookin girl here, but beauty's only a light switch away.

*Man - "Fat Penguin!"
Woman - "WHAT?"
Man - "I just wanted to say something that would break the ice."

*Yer eyes are as blue & pretty as window cleaner.
and.... the best for last!

*Yer face reminds me of a wrench,.......................every time I
think of it my nuts tighten up.

My apologies to anyone coming here and expecting something high class and insightful, but I'm numb up to my eyeballs and haven't eaten anything since last night.

Catch y'all after the comedown. . .

Monday, January 08, 2007

Yeah I got yer update right here!

Look at me! Updating! So busy with social events that I can barely keep my head straight! Who is this crazy person and why has she overtaken my normally dull life? No, I really don’t care what the answer to that is because I don’t want her to ever go away. Ev-er.

The weekend was pretty dull. CB and I dumped the kids off with CB’s mom and we headed to semi-civilization for a much needed date. We had lunch at Applebee’s, then headed over to Home Depot and depressed ourselves looking at things that we can’t afford (seriously, do they HAVE to charge so damn much money for kitchen cabinets? I mean I suppose they do have to pay for that $210 million severance pay somehow, but maybe if they would have been smart and just fired the guy if he sucked that bad, it wouldn’t cost me $10,000 to a pretty mocha and maple kitchen.

After the depression, we headed to Target (said Tar-jay because that’s as high class as it gets around here, people), and I laughed myself silly watching CB try on jackets and shirts that were about three sizes too small. Yes, I have pictures, but they don’t do the ensemble justice. And we don’t have the wire to get them off his cell phone.

Then we picked the kids up and spent the evening playing Sorry!. Sunday we went to church and played some more Sorry! and Uno (of which I am the undisputed champion, thank you very much!). So see? Highly uneventful.

Today I lunched with a very good friend and discussed our upcoming PTO fundraiser (gah. Is this what it’s like to be a grown up? Cuz I just don’t think I’m ready to take that step just yet). I took Diva to dance, then went to my PTO meeting (see? More with the grown up stuff. I think I need a temper tantrum.). I just got off the phone with one of my very dear friends (we were looking at flower girl dresses since Diva’s going to be her flower girl in August).

Tomorrow I will need to be home most of the afternoon because a guy will be coming to install my new cable telephone. It’s strange and I don’t know a thing about it other than the fact that it will cut my phone bill in half.

Wednesday I have to go spend two hours in a dentist chair (PSA: Don’t drink too much Coke and be sure to get enough calcium.) *Note to self: Stop drinking so damn much Coke, you KNOW how much you hate the dentist.* Then it’s all the practices (Diva’s dance, my dance, music team)

Thursday will be bible study and Friday I’ll crash. But I’ll try to blog more this week. Some fascinating topics on the horizon:

Diva and her crazy drama (the caliber of which I was not prepared to deal with for at least another five years).

CB learning how to play bass guitar (and how fricking hot it is)

Friday, January 05, 2007

Maybe i need to re-introduce myself?

I can’t believe I haven’t posted in so long! It just goes to show how my life has been lately. The kids are (thankfully) back in school, and even though they weren’t thrilled, I couldn’t help but get a little smile on my face as they walked through the school door Wednesday morning.

A few highlights (and low-lights) of the first week of 2007:

New Year’s Eve was highly uneventful. We spent the evening at home with the kids, eating good food and drinking pseudo-martini’s (7-up with Maraschino cherries in it) and sparkling grape juice. CJ and Diva were convinced they were going to stay up until midnight. I told them we’d see, but that I bet they wouldn’t make it past 10. CJ looked at the clock at 10:30 and said “See, mom! We can TOO make it past 10!” Which was followed by his head hitting the pillow and snoring.

Diva was even more determined that she would stay awake the whole time. We happened across MTV at 11:00 when they did the countdown live. Diva watched the ball drop, then looked over at me and said “Happy New Year, Mommy!” Which was followed by her head hitting the pillow and snoring.

New Year’s Day I finally got to watch the Rose parade for the first time in probably 5 years. I have always loved that parade. And I wanted to be the Rose Queen when I was old enough. It was also highly uneventful, until CJ insisted that I play his Charlie and the Chocolate Factory PS2 game. I’m telling you, this is the crappiest game ever. There’s no instruction on any of the levels, so you have to kind of “guess” how to advance. The graphics suck and everything that Charlie is supposed to use for weapons is a pain in the ass to control. But! I could not turn it off. I finally beat the stupid thing yesterday.

Tuesday was the kids’ last day off of school. We spent the day baking and reorganizing the Christmas toys that have still yet to find homes. When CB got home, we headed over to the neighboring town to take him to the Chiropractor, then went out for Chinese. I swear that I have the strangest kids in the world. Because you can take them to a Chinese buffet and they load up on things like Sesame Chicken and Beef with Broccoli, but try and get them to eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and they look at you like you’re asking them to cut off a limb.

Wednesday was my first day back at work since last Friday. I had to stay longer than anticipated, but that was fine. When I was finished here, I went out to lunch and had coffee with some friends. Then it was back into the routine of music practice/Diva dance/my dance.

Thursday was very enlightening. I found out that Diva is kissing boys at school. Not just any boy, but the mean boy (who, by the by is HORRID! Mean! Disrespectful! Disobedient!) in class who pulls her hair and throws rocks at her (Oh, Lord, she’s already showing the same tasted in boys that I had.). But seriously, in Kindergarten?! I guess I shouldn’t be really THAT surprised because there is one girl in her class who is constantly saying that her “coochie” itches and there are other girls who are talking about where babies come from (like the REAL where babies come from. Not just “There’s a baby in Mommy’s tummy). How do you put the kibosh on this junk? She’s far too young to be worrying about all of it, and I do not have the wherewithal to deal with this crap yet. Oy.

So there you have it. To make up for not posting in so verra long, you have one verra, verra long post about absolutely nothing. And if you are still with me to this point, let me just say thank you.

New Year’s resolutions are successfully broken, and 2007 is shaping up to be far more interesting than 2006. So Happy 2007 to you all!

Also, for those of you keeping track: 25 more days until my birthday. Not that I expect anyone else to keep track other than me, but it’s good for me to have it written down. 