Some notes

It was a hard week.  Aidan is boycotting long naps.  Evan is boycotting naps period.  But then he’s five, so it’s to be expected.  I’ve been trying to develop more me time as well as time with The Husband.  Shocker, I know.  Aidan is feeding every four hours, which means more time in between napping, but less feeding time to read and type.  I’m losing the best thing about me, writing.  Only I’ve been journaling, trying to figure things out, trying to fight the demons.  And the posts I promised last week are with my fact checker.  Guess I should light a fire under his butt to get that done.  Oh yes, and The Husband borrowed the laptop for a few days, so I had nothing, but a stupid zombie game that has a siren song.

Question?

What is the deal with my boys putting toys in their butt cracks?  I know this is just another human-anatomy-is-fun thing, but still.  It’s weird and gross.  Do other boys do this?  Do girls do this?  Or are my kids freaks? 

For now, it’s underwear time instead of naked time.

Don’t worry.  I’m still working on finishing the other posts to conclude the story I was working on last week.  Aidan is stretching out his time between feedings and not napping well.  I NEED those naps.

recap 7/23

1. Guess who has her laptop back.

2. Which means this weekend I’m playing catch up on all my favorite blogs and the new ones of people who commented.

3. And I can catch up on emails.

4. I am NOT cut out for homeschooling.

5. Why can’t children come with a mute button?

6. I’ll admit it.  Aidan is my favorite.  But that will change when he starts to cause trouble.

7.  Sean believes his smile will get him anything he wants.  He’s close to right.

8. Routines work.  And that scares me.

9. Evan is intrigued by diving and is trying to mirror other kids’ diving techniques on his own.

10. CK is right.  Lunch dates rock because it’s nice to pretend you don’t have kids during the day.

Things get sticky

Weeks went by.  SP moved into the condo; I moved into my apartment.  I took the desk from the condo, which I turned upside down and threw down two flights of stairs because it was easy and C wasn’t home.  I accidently started dating the rare 20 year old virgin, which led me to take refuge at the condo with SP, Best Friend, and Tough Chick as the virgin called fifty times a day even after I explained that I didn’t get home until 10pm because of work and school.  He didn’t listen; my roommate wanted to kill him; and he tried to choke me with his tongue when we kissed.  That was a week old romance.

Not long after the mutual break up, C threw another party at his condo and invited the whole group.  We went because the underage and the broke of our circle could score booze.  I went because I was the DD, since I still flirted with being Straight Edge.

As I stood at the breakfast bar, watching my friends pour drinks, as I sipped my soda, C came up and started talking to me.  His friends sat on the couches not to far from us and started chanting “Rudy.”

Me: What’s up with that?

C: They think I look like Sean Astin from Rudy.

Me: Oh.  I never saw that movie.  (But for the record C totally looks like Sean Astin.)  So why do they keep chanting?

C: Because they’re jerks.

Me: Oh.  Figures.

C had to leave me and go mingle with the crowd.  The man could work a room.  His Best Girl Friend slide up next to me and grab the bar for support as she swayed.

BGF: Have you met my friend C?

Me: Yeah.

BGF: No.  Have you met my friend C?

Me: Yeah?

Luckily Tough Chick swooped in and saved me, but when ever I was alone, the scene with the BGF repeated itself.  After a couple hours, it was decided that most of the group was ready to go.  Except Loose Canon and Tough Chick.  They planned to stay the night, and so I took Loose Canon’s car and drove everyone home.

The next day near noon, the phone rang.

Me: Hello?

Tough Chick: Fae? Are you sitting down?

Me: No.

Tough Chick: I think you should.  We have a problem.

Me: What?

TC: (Sigh) Loose Canon f-ed C last night.

Me: WHAT?!

TC: Yeah.  She waited until he was drunk and tired enough to go to bed.  Then she went into his room five minutes after he did and attacked him.

Me: So she raped him?

TC: Um, he’s a guy.

Me: If roles were reversed and a guy waited until a girl was drunk and tired and then attacked her when she went to bed, we would call that rape.

TC: I guess you’re right.

Me: So how did C take it?

TC: He’s a guy.

Me: Right.

TC: But he feels guilty because he’s 30 and she’s 21.  He feels like he took advantage of the situation and plans to take her out for dinner.

Me: Took advantage of the situation?  She jumped into his bed.  Wait, did you even see her talking to him at all?

TC: No.  She was nursing a beer in the corner the whole time, not talking to anyone.  C mainly talked to you when you were there. 

Me: Ok, she’s creepy.  And she’s totally going to f up us all up with hanging at the condo.

TC: She just laid him.  Tomorrow things will be normal.  We’ll all move on.

Me: Loose has never “just” laid anyone.  She falls in love with each and every guy she’s banged.  She confuses sex with love even with the one night stands. 

TC: Unlike you.

Me:  Me?  Yes, I can separate love from sex.  Personally, I prefer it that way.  Men are meant t be used.  When did Loose start eyeing C anyways?  I thought she thought he was scuzzy.

TC: That was before the night of your big date with the virgin-

Me: Shut up.

TC: And we all went bowling.  C was dressed nicely from work and we learned he owned a million dollar business.

Me: Money sings to OC chicks. 

TC: So what are you going to do as the official “mom” of the group?

Me: Crap.  I guess I’ll talk to her tomorrow before class and make sure she understands what an f-buddy is.  I just wouldn’t hold my breath.  At least I’m out of here on Wednesday until Sunday.  You still picking me up from the airport?

And yes, the next day, I did talk to Loose Canon, but it did no girl.  All week she spoke of C with that puppy-love voice.  Always mentioning how she stayed that night with him.  I was glad to get out of the drama.  Except it was waiting the moment I got back.

I slid into the Tough Chick’s car on Sunday.

Me: Thanks for waiting.  Stupid terrorists f-ing up my airports and planes.  I’ve been waiting for two hours to catch the shuttle to get here.

TC: No problem.  I was on a phone call with an old friend and didn’t notice the time.  I might have left your ass.

Me: Which would have sucked since I don’t have a cell phone.

TC: Which you need.

Me: But don’t have the money for.  Besides what’s the point?  So how are you?

TC: Good.  But we have more issues.

Me: What now? 

TC: Loose Canon left her toiletries and an outfit at the condo in C’s room.

Me: WHAT?!  Who leaves their crap at their f-buddies house?  I dated the ex for two years and never left a single hair tye at his dorm.

TC: No sh-.  So C saw that and lost it and told SP to tell Loose to get her sh- out of his room.  And I’m pretty sure that short-lived relationship is over.

Me: Great.  And how does C feel about SP and her friends now?

TC: Well, he likes me.  Straight guys love lesbians.  And he keeps asking when you’re coming back.

It started with an ad

I was 21 and on top of the world.  I had a great class schedule, job, friends, and all I needed was my apartment to open up in a couple of weeks.  Until then I was crashing on a friend’s futon in her one room apartment with her and her best friend.  I just had to walk a mile to and from school. No big deal, even if it was 10 o’clock at night. 

Good Friend was just that when she heard that my apartment wouldn’t be ready for a month after school started.  She looked at me and said, “A month isn’t that long.  Stay with me.  As long as you like my best friend Tough Chick.”  Luckily for me, Touch Chick and I got along like two peas.  Not only did Tough Chick move down that year, so did another friend of Good Friend, SP.  Unfortunately SP brought drama with her like it was luck.

Less than a week into school, SP was still crashing at a random friend’s place and her search for a permanent place was getting desperate.  And she wanted to crash with the Good Friend, Tough Chick, and me.  Four girls and one bathroom is not a good combination, even if some of us were low maintainance. 

Thursday night we decided to all go to dinner together after I got out of class.  I was poor, so Good Friend was insisting on taking me out to get a few vegetables in me.  A common goal for her.  Joining us was Loose Canon, a close friend of mine who was also SP’s upperclassman buddy through a church organization. 

That Thursday I walked into a hornets’ nest of drama when I opened the door and walked into an overly stuffed apartment.

SP: (whining) But what am I going to do?

Me: (whispering to the Tough Chick) What the hell is going on?

Tough Chick: SP found another room to rent, and the owner wants her to look at it tonight.

Me: And the problem is . . . ?

SP: (whines) I want to go to dinner with you.

Tough Chick and I rolled our eyes together.

Good Friend: Just call him and see if we can all come.

SP: Really?

Me: We could always wait in the car.

SP: No.  No, I want your opinions.

Loose Canon: Of course!  It is two guys that live there.

Tough Chick and I rolled our eyes again.  SP called the owner on the phone; while I slipped on a pair of jeans and my college sweatshirt.

Tough Chick: You know, it’s still like summer out there.

Me: I’ve been freezing my ass off in the business building.  I need to get warm.  And, this ain’t real summer, Northern Cal.

Tough Chick: Excuse me, Arizona.

Ten minutes later, five college girls were trumping up the stairs of a condo.  SP and Good Friend were in the lead.  Then came Loose Canon.  Tough Chick and I were still trying to convince them we could wait in the car.  SP knocked.

A guy, who looked only a few years older than us, opened the door and gave us a friendly greeting.  He had short brown hair, spiked up, and glasses.  He wore a tank top with three frogs behind three shot glasses, Jim, Jose, and Jack.  He ushered us in where a guy with long hair was watching TV on the biggest TV I had ever seen.

I closed my eyes and listened to my instincts.  It was something I was relearning to do with the help of my counselor.  “Fae, you have great instincts.  You get in trouble when you don’t use them.”  My first instinct was these are good guys.

The guy: Hi!  I’m C.  That’s S.  (S. looked over his shoulder smiled, nodded, and gave a half-ass guy wave.)  Would you guys like a German chocolate cake shot?

We said our no thank you’s and introduced ourselves.  C proceeded to show us around.  There was a poker table near the front door.  In the family room area, there were two more couches and a huge L-shaped desk with a computer. 

C: Don’t mind the pink carpet and tile.  That came from the last owner.

He led us upstairs to the room for rent.  There was a student desk and a futon frame.

C: The furniture is yours if you want it.

Good Friend: Fae, you could use a desk, right?  I mean, you don’t have any furniture.

Me: I have a bookcase.  But yeah, I could use a desk.

Loose Canon: Could she put a deadbolt on her door if she wanted to?

C: Um, sure, if she wanted too.

Tough Chick and I rolled our eyes.

C led us downstairs.  SP and Good Friend went upstairs to confer.

C: So.  I don’t remember any one’s names.  What if I learned your majors instead?

Loose Canon: Organizational leadership.

Tough Chick: I’m not in school.  I came down here to get into the sherif’s department.

Me: Creative Writing.

C: That’s interesting.  What do they teach in creative writing?

Me: To write creatively.  It’s a fake major like organizational leadership.  I could buy it for 500 bucks in the mail.

I smiled.  He smiled.

SP: So, I’ll think about it and call you.

C: No problem.  You have my cell.  Hey, if you guys are interested, we’re having a bar-b-que here this weekend.

Good Friend: Thanks.  We’ll think about it.

It was a half an hour later, and the conversation revolved around the room for rent as we ate dinner.

SP: On the positive side: It includes, internet, satellite, HBO, and a maid service every other week.  It’s a nice size room and a garage space.  I can have friends over; he doesn’t have a dozen cats or a kid.  They both seemed nice.  But then I’d be living with two guys.  And I’m sharing a bathroom.

Me: It’s a guy how much bathroom space and time could he take?

Loose Canon: I say no.  Why risk your safety?  You don’t know these guys.

Tough Chick: Loose, you’re crazy.

Me: Trust me.  They’re good guys.

SP: Maybe we should vote.

Good Friend: Yes, you won’t get a better deal.

Tough Chick: Yes.

Loose Canon: No.

There are times when we make a decision, a small one, and it changes everything.

Me: Yes.

SP: Ok.  I’ll call him now and tell him.  Thanks, guys.

Zombies

A couple of weeks ago, we bought “Plants vs Zombies” because they had a free trial on the new computer, and it HOOKED us all.  Especially Evan, who using ABC (Always Be Closing), convinced The Husband to buy the game because WE NEED IT, DADDY!

Countless hours of killing zombies and The Husband trying to mind his tongue, Evan is obsessed, or at least that’s what my mom is calling it.  Evan becomes “obsessed” over everything he likes, such as Kung Fu Panda, Mickey, Oceans, or How to Train a Dragon.   Like I said, Ev-er-y-thing.  He talks nonstop about his current obsession.  He plays games surrounding his current obsession.  God help me if his current obsession also involves a Happy Meal.

So why did I not expect zombies would come up at Aidan’s baptism?

Priest: And how are you, young man?

Evan: I’m fine.  My daddy bought “Plants vs Zombies” and the plants have to kill the zombies and they shoot things at the zombies and the zombies are tying to get into Sean’s house but then there are lawn mowers that get them.  Isn’t that funny?  And you know what?  The zombies keep coming and there’s a troll zombie with a little kid on his back and he shoots the little kid and he’s hard to kill.  My daddy is the zombie killing master.  And you know what?  Zombies-

Me: I think that’s enough, Evan.

Evan: But I haven’t told him about-

Me: I know.  Tell Uncle T instead.

Underwear Problems

Me: Seanny!  Time to put on your underwear.

Sean: Who’s on my underwear?

Me: Hulk, Cyclops, and who is that guy?

Sean: Spiderman!

Me: That’s right!  Now put your foot in.

Sean: No!  I don’t want them there!  I want see them!

Me: The pictures go on the back.

Sean: But I want to see them!

Me: Well, they’re suppose to be on your back to protect you from . . . um . . . behind.

Sean: They can go on the front and protect my penis!

Right.

Recap 7/16

1. When one thing is broken and you’re finally getting to your feet financially, something major will break.  Like a car.

2. Did you realize with so many damn computers in a car that it takes days for a mechanic to find the malfunctioning one and fix it?

3. Luckily it isn’t my car, and The Husband works from home, but he did put a dent in the back fender.

4. Boys + Zombie game = morning chores barely being finished, toys strewed across the house, workbook undone, a new way to torture little brothers, and a new nickname for The Husband.

5. My parents rock as they took the two older boys for the night.  Sooooo, Mom, Dad, how about every week?  Or every other week?

6. Even though I didn’t get to watch Eclipse with the girls, I got to watch it with two of my favorite men.  Sort of like Bella.  Except one had to be rocked to sleep with a binkie and the other has never had a body like Jacob or Edward but is willing to hire Jacob’s trainer.

7. I heart cheap theaters.  And How to Train your Dragon.

8. Because my phone’s camera is so damn  slow, Sean now says when he takes a picture of me with his toy phone, “Ah, you moved!”

9. We are three for three in children with dimples.  The Husband has good genes.

10.  Evan is learning to wheel and deal things out of Sean because Evan is so good at “convincing” Sean.  Nice.

Learning to Smile

It’s hard to figure out if humans are born with innate abilities and personalities or if they are born with a clean slate.  When learning this concept in college in both psychology 101 and philosophy 101, I figured it must be a combination, but I leaned towards being born with a few stuff.  I’ve met people with abilities that just couldn’t be all learned.

Then I had Evan.  I learned you have to teach  a baby to smile.  What smiling isn’t inherently known?  How could such a simple, easy act of affection not be ingrained in the human psyche from birth?  Smiling makes people happy.  It gets you stuff.  It makes you more likable.  And it gives you better wrinkles than frown lines.  I mean honestly, smile wrinkles are a million times better than frown lines.  A million times better.

So maybe we have more of a clean slate than I thought.  But then Evan’s personality grew, and I’m still on the fence.  I might have birthed a combination of my little brother and I.  Which is weird.  Evan has his mother’s talking and story-telling abilities, but he’s an extrovert that is a daredevil with that damn mischievous twinkle in his eye.  Sean is more steady, talks a lot, more cautious, and he’s defiantly an introvert.

Now there is Aidan, who is cooing along in his rocker instead of being carted around the house as I work on cleaning it.  Aidan is learning to smile.  He just gave me a whole bunch of them, inspiring this post and making my voice go up so high I sound like a cartoon character.  Last week, I caught his first smile on camera.  I realize his smile lights up my life, like Evan’s, Sean’s, The Husband’s.  It’s my shield against the darkness, the unknown,  or just the every day drudge of boredom of doing the same damn thing over and over again, like picking up that living room.  Stupid toys and shoes and books, oh wait, those are mine.

I realized I haven’t been smiling as much with all those demons I’ve been fighting.  So today I vow to smile more.  Until it kills me.  And maybe I can have my own shield or maybe someone else can use it.  And maybe I’ll be more optimistic too.  And maybe I can be happier.  And maybe . . . and maybe . . . and maybe it’ll bring world peace.  Or maybe I should just relax and smile.

The Entertainer

The boys are taking swim lessons through the city at our local park.  Each session is two weeks.  Each session has one safety day.  They teach the kids the basics of CPR and lifeguarding.  As I kid, I hated safety day because you sat in the hot sun listening to the same thing every two weeks.  In my sons’ sessions, they drive to liven it up.  They let the kids play lifeguard, throwing a rescue tube to a “drowning” lifeguard and pull her to safety.

After the class, I watched as Evan’s teacher escorted Evan to life guard office as he carried the lifeguard tube.  After a few minutes, she came out, calling for him to follow her.  She took him to the pool where Sean’s instructor was still in the pool about to climb out.

Evan’s teacher: Evan.  Tell her what you said.

I was too far away to hear his answer.  She started to laugh and dunked her head under the water.  Hmmmm.

I had to wait until Evan finished his melted Otter Pop that the lifeguards gave him and to arrive at my parents’ house before getting Evan’s full attention.

Me: Evan, what did you say to the lifeguards that was so funny?

Evan: Oh!  I told them the lifeguard buoy looks like a weenie.

A smile graced my face.  The Friendly Giant laughed.

The Friendly Giant: Now that’s funny!

Yup,  that is.

P.S. If you are like my mother who naturally assumed my son was referring to a body part, I assure you he believes he was talking about a hot dog “because hot dog and weenie are the same thing.”  Yes, they are, my boy.