Friends or just friendly?

A large amount of my time these days is taken up with making sure my kids are OK.  That is the case most of the time anyway, for most parents.  But, moving across the country has caused my "Momma Bear" instincts to go into overdrive!  Tanner has it the easiest, I think.  He's in fourth grade, stays with the same class for most of his day.  He's already made a couple of friends there.  The true test will be how the first sleepover goes (in two days) with his new friend John.  He's nervous, I can tell.  But I am not far away if I need to throw on my coat and slippers in the middle of the night and come to his rescue.
Aidan is a whole nother bucket of bolts entirely!  Middle school...could there be a WORSE time to be new and not really know anybody?  NO!  I know this from experience.  I moved from Michigan to Missouri right before the 6th grade and really thought I would die from the drama of it all!  So, I CAN and DO relate to Aidan's situation.  He's not putting himself out there.  He's not showing his true personality.  But I get it, what if they don't like you, what if they think you're weird?  I remember feeling that way.  So I just encourage him to be friendly.  That's what I'm doing too.  I've met people through volunteering at Tanner's school and I'm friendly.  You don't make awesome friends in a matter of weeks.  This will take time.  But part of me is like, "HEY, you middle school brats, MY kid is freakin' awesome!  Why are you not falling all over yourself to try and hang out with him?"  I miss Aidan's friends from home.  They were great kids with huge hearts and they were just as goofy as my son.

I know we will get there.  In the meantime, I'm being friendly but really missing being my true (cough cough) wonderfully sarcastic self around my friends at home.  The great thing about your real friends, people you've known for years, they know about all your crap, good or bad!  They embrace those quirky parts of your personality and love you for them instead of judging you.  You can give them all kinds of hell and they'll just give it right back!  I miss "inside jokes" and my BFF Mary saying "I KNOW, RIGHT?" while smacking me really hard on the shoulder.  I miss Cruzen calling me "Burke."  I miss sarcasm (from someone other than my children and husband).

Stay tuned for updates.  Maybe the next time I write, Aidan will have made a friend.  Maybe I will have made a friend.  Or maybe I'll be trying to stick stamps on my forehead and mail myself back to Missouri.

My husband and "MOvember"

OK, about two weeks ago, I noticed my husband's shaving habits seemed to be lacking.  "Are you forgetting to shave your lip?"  I asked.  "No, it's MOvember." was his reply.  Am I supposed to understand this?  MO-what?  Remember, honey, I have no job or contact with the outside world other than helping at Tanner's school and going to Safe-Way.  Therefore, I have no effing idea what "MOvember" is!

He explained that all the guys at work were allowing mustaches to grow for the entire month of November for charity.  OK, for charity, I can put up with the hairy lip, I suppose.  Of course, Eric has no REAL idea how growing this mustache will benefit a charity.  I think he's just enjoying me hating the mustache.  I was pretty sure he would get bored with it and shave it off, as my husband just isn't a "bandwagon" kind of guy...AT ALL!  Last Sunday, I heard the razor going in the bathroom for what seemed like a very "mustache shaving off" amount of time.  I was hopeful.  When he came out of the bathroom and smiled at me, I looked at him and..."oh..it's still there...and now there's a little friend for the mustache below your bottom lip."  I know what you all are thinking...goatee.  But, NO, not a goatee.  The fur under his bottom lip is like some sort of triangle pointing to his chin.  My husband *rocked* the goatee back in the day.  I loved it, he looked good with it!  But, this...this was NOT a goatee.  I sighed, audibly.  But, it is giving me lots of reasons to laugh at (with) my husband.  Always a good thing.  

Plus, December is right around the corner.  I can live with MOvember a little while longer.  But, I leave you with one question:  Why do all men with a mustache look like porn stars???  Bizarro. 

Lost in Cardboard

Sorry for the blogging delay.  Moving is a bitch!  We are here.  We are adjusting.  That's about all.  Nothing too terribly exciting.  There are surely pros and cons to this move.  I'm listing them all in my mind every day as I unpack and try to make our old life fit our new one.  We've been thrown into school and it is different to say the least.  No transportation for students.  Tanner loves riding his bike to school, which is at the end of our street.  Aidan could ride a bike, but until he is more comfortable with the area, I'm dropping him off and picking him up. The curriculum standards are higher. Both boys feel as if they are a bit behind where they were in Missouri.  There is no doubt that we are the minority in this area, a weird feeling to experience.  We are surrounded by Asians and Indians (and NOT the kind with feathered headdresses, as I explained painstakingly to Tanner).  Poor Tanner is so overloaded by all of the cultures here.  I asked him what a boy in his class looked like (this is Jared the one who likes to be called "Pip Squeak" and is so tiny he has to jump up to put his folder in the basket on the shelf).  He said, "I think he's Japanese."  My response "Oh, OK, so he's Asian."  When I spoke to Tanner's teacher and mentioned that he liked the little Asian boy named Jared, she nearly fell over laughing.  Her name is Mrs. Chung.  I asked her what was so funny.  She said that Jared is African American.  Tanner just doesn't know what to do with all of this diversity.
Aidan is faring well.  He very much likes the few kids he's met at school and through a friend of mine here, but is missing his best buds back home.  I was talking with both boys about how it's hard on me too, having left all of my friends.  Aidan's response was very positive.  He said, "Mom, I know we'll all make new friends.  And when you get some new friends, you can talk about detergent and cleaning things.  It'll be great!"
I can't wait. :-)

Shopping with my Tween, AKA: Modern day Torture

It's that time of year again when it's cold enough to dig out jeans.  I've come to truly dread this.  Not b/c I'm afraid *my* jeans won't fit, but b/c I *know* Aidan and Tanner's jeans won't!  Tanner is the poster child for stretchy elastic waist band athletic shorts and pants, so must be FORCED into trying on jeans at all.  By "forced" I mean I let him pick out some new stretchy athletic shorts first and then casually slip the jeans in there and hope he won't notice.  It doesn't work.  Aidan, however, likes jeans.  So, you'd think it would be easier. Umm, not so much.  Aidan is 12.  The age of eye rolling and pure exasperation with me over any and everything.  He reluctantly let's me choose a few sizes and as we head toward the Target dressing room, he looks around and says, "Is this the ONLY dressing room?"  "Yes, Aidan, it's for everyone.  that's why it's between the men's and women's sections."  Huge sigh and looking around to make sure there are no other tweens to spot him going in to said very uncool dressing room, and we're in.  At least, I thought so.  He takes the jeans in and closes the door in my face.  "OK, well, I still need to see them when you get them on."  He groans.  I wait (patiently), hear zipping and wait some more.  "Do they fit?"  No response.  "Aidan, do they fit?"  Jeans fly over the top of the dressing room door and hit me in the head.  I'll take that as a "no."
I miss the days of strolling through the infant and toddler section and just grabbing a 3T and KNOWING it will fit.  Perhaps I should invent a new sizing system just for tweens.  That way I could just walk through and grab what I needed for Aidan and leave his sarcastic, unappreciative butt at home.  His size would be called "12CBB" (can't be bothered).  What would your tween's size be?

Anytime Now

How do you stay positive when things are anything but?  I have been saying, "it is what it is" and "it will work out" for about 2 months now and that's about to put me in an institution.  I need better (or more) drugs if I am going to keep this up for much longer.  In the past 2 weeks, 2 toilets in our house decided they'd had enough flushing, Tanner's left click on his track pad wouldn't work, his kickstand would go neither up nor down, our garage door opener works when and if it wants to, and today my dishwasher repeats the first 2 minutes of its cycle, but nothing more.  REALLY??  Oh, and even though the roofing materials have been delivered, not a soul has come to actually put them on my friggin' roof.  The positive thoughts are not exactly pouring out of me over here.

On top of all that, I'm trying to get someone to buy or lease my house.  I feel like I'm selling cheese to the lactose intolerant for Pete's sake.  Crickets chirping, can you hear that?  It is an absofuckinglutely impossible time to sell one's home.  I'm thinking of going to the grand opening of Chick Fil-et up on Hwy K and handing out flyers Thursday just to drum up some lookers.  

So, everyone, just be on alert, I can NO LONGER be positive.  I need a break from positivity.  It's Eeore time people!  Little black rain cloud following me wherever the heck I go.  Screw you real estate market!  To hell with you, appliances!  Bite me, wanna-be roofers!  And in the words of the beautiful Jon Bon Jovi, "Have a nice day!"

Life By Numbers

I was feeling quite bogged down by numbers last week.  Met with 3 moving companies to get estimates.  They measured, counted dressers and estimated how many pounds of stuff we had to move, how much it would cost. Numbers.  Eric and I had to figure out what we would have to sell or lease the house for so that we *break even.*  New bills in California: deposit on the house we're leasing there, need a fridge and washer/dryer there.  Numbers.  How much it will cost to fix our roof vs. what our (pain in the ass) insurance company will cover. More numbers.  Then Friday night I was flipping channels and landed on a 9/11 10th anniversary special on NBC.  I couldn't move.  Tanner came in and asked me why I was crying.  I just grabbed him and pulled him onto my lap.  I remembered how right after that awful day I told Eric I wanted to have another baby.  I remembered his due date and birth weight...numbers.  
We watched the whole thing together.  He asked a lot of questions. How many people died, Mom?  How many planes were hi-jacked?  Numbers.  I crawled in his pillow filled bed with him when I tucked him in that night.  He has 9 pillows on  his bed b/c they "make him feel safe."  I hugged him and kissed him on his cheeks, forehead; and he let me.  Then I turned on his 3 nightlights and said goodnight.
What a lesson on perspective I had learned that night.  I am so thankful to have had that 1 moment with him.  So, today, as I expect the roofers to get here by 9:00 and rush Aidan to the bus stop b/c he forgot to set his alarm, I am SO grateful for the numbers in my life.  Especially the 2 that live under my care and the one that is in California much of the time, the 2 around the corner who are always there for me, countless friends.
Numbers.

Missouri, California; Potato, Avacado

I spent 4 days in San Francisco this week looking at rental possibilities for our family.  First of all, whenever I'm in SF I feel like an alien.  My dress is entirely *suburban, midwestern, mom* and everyone else is all hipster, skinny jeans and ginormous sunglasses. There are men there with much cuter hair styles than my own.  You know it's bad when you find yourself comparing yourself to members of the opposite sex and falling short.  Sucker punch to the self-esteem, anyone?
I know how pathetic I must sound, but it is hard to feel *out of place* when you've felt very much *in your element* for the past 16 years of your life. However, change is a-comin' whether I'm ready or not.  So I guess I best get my butt ready!  So, another day E and I rented a car and were able to scope out the Danville/San Ramon area (thanks to my HS friend Lisa for suggesting it).  I felt a little less alienistic there.  We even saw a few rentals that we liked.  A step in the right direction.  Insert very heavy sigh here.
I guess it's time to get a hipper hair style and get ready for the next step in my life.  OK, I'm off to hyperventilate now.  Ta ta for now!

HOLY crap!

Today I had a "blind" man come to the house to repair the string mechanism on one of the blinds.  He seemed nice enough.  Introduced himself as Ed and was nice to my dog, Rue.  "I see you're moving, " he says, "where to?"  "San Francisco area." 
Now I've heard a lot of things come out of people's mouths when I let them know where we are moving, but this one is the hands down winner.  "Are you a christian?" he asks.  Not thinking there's a really good way to respond,  I decide right then and there to play along, b/c, a) I'm bored and this could be fun and b) I don't want to hear the *you need to be saved* schpeel that is sure to come if I say I'm not a *christian.*  
Perhaps a better question would be "Are you polite?"  given that he has just met me, is in my house to do a service, and is asking me this highly invasive question.   So, I say "Sure am."  I know I'm lying to this man, but he's being ruder than I can imagine by asking me this question, so my lying is perfectly justifiable.  
I have to wonder how he would feel if I walked into his house to clean his windows and the first thing I asked him was "Are you a heathen?"  Just a thought as he begins to warn me of the *evil liberals* lurking out there in good old California.  "You must keep a close eye on your children there, especially if they go to #public school#."  He said this as if it were truly on the road to hell.  Sooooo glad I didn't let him know I was one of those crazy public school teachers, he probably wouldn't have fixed my blind then.
I reminded him that it wasn't OK to teach religion or politics in a public school setting.  But, he shook his head in disbelief and continued, "They SAY they don't teach that liberalism, that it's OK for 2 men to live in sin, or 2 women to live in sin, but they DO teach it.  That's why if you send your children to public school you must volunteer and be IN the classrooms as much as possible to police the situation."  I assured him that we would be looking into private school (lie #2) to which he was very relieved for both me and my poor children.  
WOW-ZA!!  Apparently Rush Limbaugh has a brother and his name is Ed and he is in my kitchen right fucking now!  
Finally my blind was fixed and I paid him $15 that I earned spreading liberalism to the children of St. Charles County and hoped he would be on his way.  But, nope, not that easy.  He packed up his gear and I thanked him for his time.  "May I say a prayer for your house and your family before I leave?"  "By all means," hell, I've put up with your holy crap this long.  I hope I can remember his prayer (I peeked at him while he was saying it and tried very hard not to snicker).  
"Dear Lord, please bless this house and send a *christian* buyer here under your gentle guidance, so that this family can leave without worrying that their beautiful home will lie in the hands of those who don't follow your word.  Please watch over them in California so that they will not be fooled by the liberal evil that is so easily welcomed there.  Amen"
I may have missed a few words but that was the gist of it.  I don't think I will EVER be the same after that!

Where the heck are the protein bars?

Shopping for groceries today, ho hum, ho hum.  I had a list and thoroughly enjoyed crossing my items off as I placed them in my cart (I'm a freak like that).  Apparently, though, there would be no crossing off of the strawberries today.  I went around the produce section multiple times, thinking surely I missed them.  But, no.  No strawberries.  There are always strawberries.  Fine, not gonna ruin my shopping experience.  After all, I'm at the grocery store at 2:00 p.m. on a *school day.*  NICE! 
Next item, protein bars.  Not just any protein bars.  My kids like the Special K protein bars.  Every store I go to either keeps them in an odd, out of the way spot, or just does not carry them.  I know what you're thinking, "there is a protein bar section" and there is.  But, they are not there.  Cereal bars, not there either.  They have the protein-less Special K bars there, but not the protein kind.  For the love of Pete!!! It's like "Where's Waldo" at Shop N Save.   Finally I found them in the......pharmacy section.  Really??  WTF? I only found them there b/c I was looking for benedryl.  Do other people have as much trouble as I do finding certain things at the grocery store?  
Anywho, paid and out to my van I go.  Putting them in the back and the cart starts to roll down the parking lot.  Why would you build a grocery store parking lot on a slope?  Just to make my day a little more interesting?  Well, thankseversoverymuch!  I wedged the cart in a way that I was sure it was secure. NOPE!  Now I pull it back and put my foot on the bottom as I'm unloading the bags.  This could be an olympic sport for women.  Did I mention it's 100 flipping degrees outside?  
I looked great once I got in the van and blasted on the AC.  On my way home I made up a song.  It was about protein bars and parking lots and had lots of four letter words in it.  

Blog virgin

OK, here I go...blogging.  Hmmm, I guess I'll start with the title.  I like stories, don't you?  NOT boring ass stories, like "He said OMG!" and I was all like "I don't think so, ya know?"  The youth today can NOT tell a good story (in my opinion).  I'm not always going to say that *in my opinion* thing, b/c it's MY blog, therefore my opinion.  So, that's the only time I'll do that.  I like a good story, something that really happened but is just so funny that you have to share it.  That is what  I propose this blog will  be.  But, don't hold me to that.  The title may sound familiar to you.  Rob Lowe (hotty, McHot Hot that he is), has a book out with roughly the same title.  But his is a book, mine is a blog.  He is a hot actor who made some mistakes in the 80's.  I am just an everyday gal who also made several mistakes in the 80's (not to mention the 90's).  Plus, I think his book title isn't quite accurate, given that he's published and all.  But, I digress.  So this is just a "HELLO, welcome to my blog!"  I hope you can find a minute or two each week to read it.  If not, then I guess you are  NOT one of my *closest friends.*  Poor you!