Daily Diatribes

Today I received irrefutable evidence that Anna is indeed the spawn of Satan.  If you are new to the blog, please refer back to an earlier entry titled “The Exorcism of Anna Charlotte” to find out more about my child’s demonic tendencies.

Today we were in my bathroom and I was trying to get her ready to go a Southern Living at Home party.  Oh how I love those things!!  Anyway, she did or said something not nice (can’t even remember what it was now) and I told her “you shouldn’t do that, it comes from the devil” or some helpful piece of parenting b.s. like that.

Then, I stupidly asked her if she wanted to be like God or the devil.  She pursed her little rosebud lips, cocked her little golden head, looked me in the eye with her little pure blue angel eyes and said “well, devils are prettier.”  I must have looked shocked because she hastily added “well they’re all red and shiny, so they are pretty”. 

Then she continued “I like God and all, but devils are just pretty.”  Then she looked at me, waiting to see how I was going to answer that one.  Well, truth be told, she has a point.  Ok, angels are all white and floaty and gauzy and everything, which is very nice in a Southern Living at Home kind of way.  But there is a lot to be said for shiny scarlet scales, and really pointy headwear.   

Needless to say, I dropped the subject immediately and whispered several Hail Mary’s to myself just in case.  I finished drying her hair, and handed her a headband.  My friend Lucy had just given me a very large selection of fancy headbands and I picked the plainest one, since Anna was wearing a tank dress.  She took one look at it and said (and I am sooo not making this up!!)  “God mom, that’s so disgussing” in a very Valley Girl kind of way and picked up a fancier one.  I wasn’t even going to argue or correct or anything.  I just continued my litany to the saints, praying for my child’s immortal soul.

We went on to the party, what fun, what joy and she was pretty good through it, although she and Roseanna’s husband, Larry, got into several fights.  I’m not sure who was acting worse:  at least Anna has demon possession to explain her behavior.  Larry has no excuse.  And what kind of sadist repeatedly grabs a five year old girl and continues to demonstrate how to give the perfect Indian Rope Burn???  No wonder Larry and Josh get along so well; they’re the same age!!!  I did win a prize at the party, a lovely hand painted coffee cup.  I am going to put it on my mantel and fill it with used toothpicks and some sawdust shavings to add a touch of whimsy to my living space!

But after the party, I decided to stop at the mall in Alabaster on my way home, to pick up some things for Abby.  We went into Justice and the first thing we grabbed was a belt for Abby.  Well, for some reason, this sent Anna right over the edge.  She started asking for a belt repeatedly and when I pointed out the rather large purchase we made for her at Children’s Place last week, she fell apart.

“You bought Abby a belt and you won’t even buy me one,” she howled in an eardrum busting shriek.  “It’s not fair that Abby got a belt and you won’t get me one!!!!”  I tried to ignore her, I walked away from her, but she followed me, asking me for every single item we passed.  It went something like “you won’t buy me a belt so can I have a shirt??”  “You won’t buy me a belt so can I have an umbrella?”  

At this point, I was visualizing exactly which belt I was going to strangle her with and how I was going to plead postpartum psychosis as part of my insanity defense.  I feel sure I could get a judge to sentence me to a mental institution. I would love it.  They play Pictionary and make lanyards and have group sessions about how to distinguish which voice is most important.  I would fit right in! 

Anyway, the belt plea was interspersed with pleas for food, because of course, after snacking all afternoon at Roseanna’s, the little demon was hungry.  I mean, she must have a legion of demons, because the child eats enough to sustain ten grown men.  So as I am paying she is alternating between ”I want a belt” and ”I want some candy” and “why are you buying something for Abby” and I am about to absolutely run screaming from the store.

So I tried my best line which never fails to generate a laugh from the adults “I’m buying this for Abby because I love her best” with a wink at the salesgirl.  She looked at me like I had just pulled off a kitten’s tail and said “awwwww” like she hadn’t noticed Anna screaming through her store for the last twenty minutes. 

I got my bags and dragged Reagan out to the car, threatening her with manacles and the dungeon when we got home.  Of course, instead I took her to Chick Fil A and placated the legion with chicken nuggets. She is in bed now, and as soon as she’s asleep, I am going to go and shave her head and look for the 666 on her scalp!!!  

Carmichael slowly opened his eyes, then winced and shut them quickly as pain penetrated like a knife through his skull.  He was lying on a cold, stone floor and his head felt like it had been kicked by his stallion.  He groggily raised himself to a sitting position and took inventory of his situation.  He was chained to a wall in what appeared to be a dungeon. 

His last recollection was of the beautiful MAGENTA haired Chrysanthemum acquiescing to her father’s demand she marry the Earl of Ahshhole (prounounced ah-sh-olay…it’s French) in order to save her pet gerbil Albert.  He groaned, dropping his head into his hands.  How could Chrysanthemum deny their passion, he wondered, all for a gerbil?  Or was there something more she feared.

He rose to his feet and tested the strength of the chains holding him to the wall.  He pulled slowly and his mighty biceps strained, but the chains held fast.  Panting, he leaned back against the wall, racking his barbarian brain for ideas.  Suddenly, he heard footsteps.

He watched warily as a shadowy figure bearing a lantern came toward his cell.  As it approached, he realized it was Chrysanthemum.

“Oh my darling,” he said, “I hoped you would come.”

“Shhhh,” she told him as she produced a set of keys.  “We only have a few moments and we must get you out of here.”

She bent over him, her silky MAGENTA hair brushing his arm as she unlocked his manacles, affording him an excellent view of the plump mounds of her breasts bursting over the top of her dress.  

The moment he was unlocked, he swept her into his arms and kissed her passionately.  But she pushed him away, hissing “not now, you must escape.”  But passion had overtaken Carmichael and he pulled her to him again, gazing deeply into her eyes as he pulled her close to the evidence of his desire for her.

“Can Albert make you feel this way?” he demanded of her.  “No gerbil can make you feel the things I make you feel,” he said as he bent toward her creamy neck, intent on feasting on the fair flesh before him.

“Oh Carmichael,” she sobbed, “I do love you, I do.  But Albert has always been there for me.  How can I betray him?”

Carmichael looked at her, puzzled.  “But darling, he’s a..a… rodent,” he said.

Chrysanthemum slapped him hard across the cheek.

“How dare you,” she shouted.  “You know nothing of me.  Albert is my dearest friend and most constant companion.  You care for nothing but assuaging your lust.”

“And is that so wrong?” he demanded.  “I notice you are always a willing participant.”  To prove his point, he captured her lips in a searing kiss of desire.  Her protests died away as passion overtook her, the passion that always simmered close to the surface when Carmichael was there.

Without thinking, he lowered her to the ground of his cell, his lips never losing contact with hers.  She made no protest when he slipped her gown from her shoulders, and fondled the twin peaks of her passion.  Her head fell back, her rosebud lips slightly parted as he took one peak in his mouth, like a suckling pig feasting on its sow.  

Just as Chrysanthemum was about to be swept away by the currents of desire, they heard footsteps pounding down the stairs.  Quickly, she shoved him away and tucked her ivory breasts back into her gown.

“You must go,” she told him.  “Before it’s too late.” 

“We are not finished,” he whispered, kissing her one more time.  ”I will make you see I am more to you than Albert could ever be.”  With that, he wheeled around and ran down the hall toward another set of steps, hoping to fight his way to freedom.

Chrysanthemum slumped against a wall, still breathing heavily from the emotions Carmichael could raise in her so effortlessly.  How could she make him understand her bond with Albert?  Would she be able to go through with her wedding the the Earl of Ahshhole?    And what of her father?  Would he kill both her loves?  Chrysanthemum lowered her MAGENTA head into her hands and sobbed in grief and terror.

I just went back and re-read that entry and I had to giggle.  Not because I think I’m all that funny, but because I believe I actually nailed the description of Carmichael nailing Chrysanthemum.  So I think I will expand on their adventures.  I need to get Fabio on the phone for the cover art…

Chrysanthemum leaped upon her white mare and galloped away, Carmichael in close pursuit.  She was frightened of the feelings he caused her, feelings of uncontrollable passion that caused her to abandon all the morals the sisters had so conscientously instilled in her.  

“Chrysanthemum, my darling, wait….”  Carmichael mounted his black stallion and tore off down the beach after her. 

Chrysanthemum’s molten, shimmering, magenta hair rippled behind her like a banner, a sheet of flame glowing in the dim evening light.  Carmichael’s stallion quickly overtook the mare.  He reached out a muscular arm and pulled Chrysanthemum onto his stallion.

“No Carmichael, you musn’t….it’s wrong,” Chrysanthemum panted, her pupils dilated with fear and desire.

“Chrysanthemum, my darling, the passion that sears between us is not wrong,” he told her. 

“But my father says I must marry the earl or he’ll kill my gerbil,” she whimpered, even as she turned her head to allow him to nibble her shell like ear. 

“I shall protect you and your gerbil with my life,” he told her solemnly, just before he captured her lips in a searing kiss of desire.

Chrysanthemum moaned, her fears forgotten as her feelings for Carmichael roared to life in her body like an ocean wave.  Piercing stabs of desire assaulted her when she felt his love rocket spring to life against her loins.

Carmichael pulled her off the horse and threw her to the sand and began kissing her until she was senseless with passion.  His hands caressed the creamy smooth mounds that rose above her dress and his desire increased exponentially.

A sudden cry interrupted their lovemaking.  Raising his head, Carmichael could see Chrysanthemum’s father riding toward them, his sword raised above his head threateningly. Even from this distance, Carmichael could see the cage housing Chrysanthemum’s gerbil strapped to the Baron’s saddle.

Chrysanthemum leapt to her feet, tears of horror filling her eyes.  ”No father,” she screamed “you musn’t hurt Albert!!  I’ll die if anything happens to him!”

“Jezebel,” he roared at her.  “How dare you lie with this…this…ruffian.  Ye’re ruined goods now.  Ye’ll marry the earl, if he’ll still have ye, or I’ll run a spit through Albert and I’ll roast him for my dinner.”

Chrysanthemum threw herself at his feet, sobbing, reaching toward the cage that housed Albert.  Albert himself was munching contentedly on a piece of cedar and didn’t seem to think much of the Baron’s threat.  But Chrysanthemum knew he was serious.

The Baron’s men had subdued Carmichael and shoved a gag in his mouth, so he was unable to prostest when Chrysanthemum weakly agreed “yes Father, I will marry the Earl to save Albert.”

Carmichael lunged against his captors, but they held him firm, and one raised his sword and struck Carmichael across the head with it.  Just as he was losing consciousness, he met Chrysanthemum’s eyes for a moment, but she turned away.  Her love for Albert the Gerbil was greater, he feared as he sank to the ground and welcomed the blackness.

To Be Continued…..

Whatever possessed me to drag Josh and his friend Connor to Kohl’s with me today?  The only thing on the planet that could possibly be worse than one teenage boy is two.  For some reason, I thought it might be easier to have the two of them as opposed to Anna, but it seems I was wrong.

I should have known it was a bad idea before we even left the house.  Connor fell down the stairs and laughed uproariously, and carried on as if he had just discovered a vaccine for AIDS.  And since it was so much fun to fall down them the first time, he did it three more times, with varying degrees of drama.  Josh was an active participant, setting up falls for Connor.  I finally told him if he fell and hurt himself, I was dragging him out in the street because I was not going to pay for his hospitalization and wheelchair. 

So after all that, I still took them on an errand with me.  We got through the door of Kohl’s and they immediately starting whooping like hyenas and galumphing up and down the aisles.  Little old ladies cowered by the lingerie in terror as Josh and Connor went thundering past.  Grown men took cover in housewares as they came galloping by.  It was bad.

I sent them off to look at clothes and Josh came running back five minutes later, giggling maniacally.  “Connor’s trying to hurt me,” he panted as he tried to hide behind me.  I beat him off with a hanger and told him to get lost.  Then he and Connor got one of those carts with the stroller and Josh started off down the aisle pushing Connor in it, with Connor looking like some sort of overgrown baby with a glandular disorder.  Then Connor got up and Josh kept pushing and hamstringed Connor, knocking him back into the cart, which they of course found hilarious. 

By this time, I realized I had made a huge error in judgement.  So I decided to try ignoring them.  I headed over to the men’s department with them yapping at my heels like a couple of overgrown, overbred Jack Russell Terriers.  They wove in and out of the racks, hitting at each other and hooting. 

So I headed to the girls department.  The toy department is right next to it and those two little scamps found the light sabers.  Idiots!  They proceeded to have a pitched battle to save the universe or possibly just a battle to see who could send me screaming from the store first.  Thrust, Parry, Thrust, Parry, through the infants department and into girls underwear.

Of course they couldn’t ignore the underwear and they had to try out the different styles of training bra that were available.  They may also have picked up the underwear, but by then I was hightailing it to another department.  Idiots!!!

I met Kiirah by the accessories department where she was trying to talk me into buying her a white purse for $14.  I told her forget about it, Labor Day is just around the corner and it was too expensive to carry for a month.  See, I do pay attention to Southern Living!!  Unbeknownst to us, Connor and Josh were creeping up and they started dropping Q-Tips down her back. 

By this time, had taken as much as I could.  I went to the jewelry department to buy some earrings to wear daily so Kristie doesn’t have to keep re-piercing my ears!  Meanwhile, Josh and Connor were tormenting Kiirah by continuing to dump things down her back.  We went to check out and I offered to leave Josh there to be used as a mannequin, but the sales lady turned me down.  I am sure it had nothing to do with the fact that he and Connor were in the waiting area just outside the door and Josh was rolling around on the ground under the bench, writhing like a worm.  Not real sure why he was doing that, but does there really have to be a reason???

After acting like toddlers all day, Josh and Connor are going out to the movies tonight with two girls.  It is completely supervised; Connor’s mom will be sitting behind them, warning them to keep their sabers put away.  Thirteen is a weird age:  toddlers one minute and boys 2 men the next.  I cannot believe I have two more children waiting in the wings to go through this.  Must….get…to…Mexico…..

I know you will all be happy to hear I have recovered from Saturday’s drug overdose.  However, my back is still sore from sleeping for thirteen hours straight.  I guess I really am a grown up now!!!

I don’t really have much to say, this is an obligatory entry to appease those poor unfortunate folks who derive their only daily pleasure from reading my insane ramblings.  Hi Kristie!!  But I will make an attempt to be witty and wise and thought provoking, without actually saying anything really meaningful!

Police Blotter:  Two weeks ago, the first blurb under theft went as follows:  two armed gunmen entered a business brandishing weapons.  They looked frightened, then turned around and left the building.  Whoa, they were so impressive, they scared themselves!!  Like they were so stoned, they didn’t think it all the way through and then when they found themselves actually pointing a gun at someone, they freaked out.  The first rule of armed robbery is Nerves OF Steel!!!  Helloooooo, doofus, you’re the scary one with the gun, not me!!!  I’m thinking these two will not be making a living from armed robbery.

Or how about Lucky Bucks getting held up at gunpoint?  Also by two armed gun men, but not the same ones, since they actually pointed their guns at someone before getting chased out of the store!  Lucky Bucks is a Dollar plus store, which means some of their items are two dollars.  Now I don’t know about you, but if I am going to the trouble to procure a gun and risk imprisonment, I am going to hold up something really big, like a bank or at least a liquor store.  A Dollar Store?????  How much money did these morons think they were actually going to get??  Fortunately, they were apprehended right around the corner from me, so those dollar gift bags are safe for another day!! 

Last weeks police blotter listed several items stolen during a home invasion:  lunchmeat; cheese; and bread.  A burglar with an appetite!  Oh no, it’s the Lunchmeat Bandit!  Oscar Mayer beware, you may be next!!!

Enough police blotter.  Yesterday, several of us took our girls to Cullman to visit the convent.  The girls performed their talent show act which was the Hail Holy Queen routine from “Sister Act”.  They did a great job and the sisters were suitably impressed.  The convent was lovely and the sisters couldn’t have been nicer.  Brides of Christ and all that.

I lived up to my high standards of grace and dignity by dropping a full 2 liter bottle of diet coke on the floor.  It had to be placed in a sink and opened so 3/4 of its contents could erupt into the air.  Classic me!!  The lady was very nice about it, and she even poured my drink for me.  Of course that was probably because she didn’t want me handling the bottle anymore, but whatever.

Roseanna’s mom Donna took flowers for the sisters.  After we toured the cemetery,  Abby very helpfully advised Sister Madeline that as soon as she died, we could place those very flowers on her grave.  Sister was somewhat taken aback, but thanked Abby very graciously for the thought.  That Abby is always looking ahead!

We had a nice time nonetheless.  I have watched a few too many Haunted Destination specials on the Travel Channel lately and I kept looking for ghostly nuns wafting through the chapel.  I felt sure there must have been a couple of murders or suicides or something, but I never saw a single ghost.  I must confess I was extremely disappointed not to find at least one ghostly novice weeping in her cell after being locked away for having a wild affair with the milkman.  Sister Agatha Lazarus, the mother superior at the time, had her bricked into her room with no food and water to repent of her sins only the novice hanged herself with her rosary from a crevice in the bricks and Sister Agatha had a heart attack and died when they found the body, and now they both wander the halls, the novice looking for her lost love and Sister Agatha looking for someone else to punish.  Sigh, unfortunately, my imagination is way more interesting than real life!!!

Ok, well enough of my rambling for now.  Maybe I can hook the ghostly novice up with Chrysanthemum and write a real novel!!

Ok, I have to admit, my capacity for stupidity is truly endless.  A little history….I have a love/hate relationship with my treadmill.  From the first day I tried to use it and went shooting off the back (see earlier blogs) to my bout with sciatica after getting too over zealous with my workouts, the treadmill and I are not friends.  But I still try to use it, seeing as how it’s the only workout I can manage to do consistently.  After all, you can’t watch Regis and Kelly if you’re walking outside in the heat!!

So I started using the treadmill routinely again about three weeks ago.  I have been doing pretty well and can do about 30 minutes, which is half of Regis and Kelly…not bad if you ask me.  But I have been noticing a little strain in my sciatic nerve for the last several days.  And I am very afraid I will end up bedridden again like the last time.

So yesterday, after going and retrieving Anna from the neighbor’s house, I decided I would pop a couple of Naprosyn to see if I could get the inflammation to go away.  So I went into the bathroom, grabbed a couple out of the bottle, swallowed them and forgot about it.

My power was out all afternoon yesterday and
Nancy came over with her kids so we could all be bored in the dark together.  While she was over, I noticed I seemed a little woozy.  I chalked it up to the heat and didn’t think much of it.  The kids were fighting, so we decided to head up to McDonalds and let them fight on the indoor playground and we could at least sit in air conditioning and referee them. 

By now, I was not feeling well at all.  I was extremely nauseous, and I was afraid I had picked up something from visiting Joey at Children’s Hospital despite the beautiful yellow gown I wore when I visited him.  Nancy offered to run me back to the house, but I love her enough not to saddle her at McDonald’s with five children.  Besides, it was hot at the house.  I told her not to worry, I would get  a Sprite when we got there to see if it settled my stomach.

We got there, and I was sitting there nursing my Sprite when the truth hit me.  I wasn’t sick at all:  I WAS STONED.  How did I accomplish this amazing feat you ask yourselves?  Well, it seems the prescription bottle I picked up in the bathroom was not Naprosyn at all, it was LORTAB!!   AND I TOOK TWO!!!! 

Nancy came back and sat down and I shared the good news with her.  “Nancy, I’m stoned,” I told her.  She gave me a peculiar look, one that said “and I’ve been letting my children play at your house…” but I assured her it was not a routine thing.  I plan on smoking marijuana frequently as soon as I no longer have to be a role model for my children, but for now, I am clean as a whistle!!  I do not routinely take prescription meds, other than my thyroid pills and my Lexapro, which I take to keep me from worrying about my kids catching leukemia at the playground.

So there we sat at McDonald’s with me looking at the pretty stones they used in the new counter and Nancy looking at me like I was about to light up a hookah pipe.  Well, if I had one….Anyway, the longer we sat, the woozier I got.  Kiirah, my niece, said I flailed around a lot like Jack Sparrow, minus the eye makeup.

Well, when we finally left, I came home and went straight to bed at 6:00.  The power was still out, but at this point, I did not care at all!  I was happy to be horizontal, counting technicolor sheep in my bedroom.  I slept until 7:00 this morning!  I do remember Tim coming in and checking my pulse occasionally and I know it stormed last night, but other than that, I was out for the count!!

For all of you druggies who are shaking their heads and saying “two Lortab….that wouldn’t even faze me!” get over it!!  I don’t take drugs!!  I am waiting to be a stoner granny.  I can tell my kids I have never smoked marijuana, but the grandkids are a different story!!  “No guys, granny doesn’t have Alzheimers, she’s just stoned!!!”  So if you want to get me something for Christmas, I am ready to start my bong collection!!

I am sorry, I know I have been mute for awhile, but we have been so busy!  It seems there is something different going on every day and the weekends are crammed full with fun activities.

For example, last Sunday, I was invited to a Bridal Tea.  I do not know the bride, but I know her parents fairly well.  So I decided to go, seeing it as a nice opportunity to get out of the house and eat some party food. 

 I may be alone in this (except, I know, for Gianna), but I could actually subsist on party food.  Give me an appetizer buffet with Little Smokies in barbecue sauce, meatballs, mini quiches, crustless sandwiches and petit fours and I will be endlessly happy!  I will even eat some of the fruit and veggie offerings just to appear health conscious to those who do not know me well! I love the idea of Wedding Crashers because I would be crashing just for the food!

Anyway, so I had to go to Bed, Bath and Beyond for the gift.  I had to stand in line for ten minutes just to get the registry.  I was going to get a gift card, but I decided it was too impersonal.  So I stood in the line for the list.  Once I got it, we strolled through the store, trying to find something from the list that the store actually carried.  Almost 3/4 of the items were not available in the store, which floored me.  If it’s not available to buy, then how did she register for it in the first place??  The things available in the store were generally the $100 plus items, which were not in my budget.  Besides, I don’t even know the bride!

Finally, I decide on a lovely shower curtain which cost more than my weekly grocery bill.  I took it and paid for it, then decided to get it wrapped.  Has anyone seen “Love Actually” where Alan Rickman decides to get his possible girlfriend a gift and takes it to be wrapped?  And Rowan Atkinson turns the simple act into a production worthy of Martha Stewart?  Well, that’s how this was, minus the potpourri.  The girl behind the counter pulled out around 2000 sheets of white tissue paper and artfully stuffed each one into the bag, arranging them just so.  Then she cut some ribbon, then she looped the ribbon, then she took it out and looped it again, then she pulled it up into a bow, then another bow, then another, then another….I was ready to pull the ribbon up around her neck until her eyeballs bulged, but decided it wasn’t worth trying to outrun security!

So Sunday afternoon, after dropping Abby off for nun practice, I headed for the Tea.  I arrived on time and ready to party.  I walked in the door and met the bride, who was very lovely and bride like, greeting guests as they walked in the door.  I thought this was a very nice touch.  I scanned the room, realized I knew absolutely no one, except the hostesses and I began regretting my acceptance almost immediately.

So I went for the food, seeing as how it was my primary reason for attending anyway.  So you can imagine my dismay as I faced possibly the most pathetic array of party food ever!  It was set up buffet style on the island.  The first offering was Chex Mix!  I mean come on, it wasn’t even homemade, or White Chocolate Turtle, or even Southwestern, it was just plain Chex Mix.  Ugghh!  Following behind it was a bowl of dinner mints which no party is complete without.  They are just the perfect touch of elegance!!  Yeah right, that’s like putting a doily under the spam and calling it gourmet!!

But the next platter was really the final insult.  It was filled with tiny little square sandwiches, with the crusts cut off to make them pretty.  I was hopeful so I took two.  Imagine my complete dismay when I bit into one and discovered it was chicken salad made with UNDERWOOD DEVILED CHICKEN!!!!!  Of course, they threw in some grapes and pecans to make it seem fancy, but I could unfortunately visualize the little red Underwood devil dancing with glee at my disgust!!  I know for sure it was Underwood, because it has such a distinctive taste, sort of like potted meat, with some baby shit stirred in for texture.

The only other foods offered were strawberries and petit fours, so I consoled myself by defying convention and eating two petit fours!!  I am sure I scandalized the proper southern ladies there who would never let so much as one petit four cross her lips, but I have always been a rebel what can I say!  As a final indignity, there was NO TEA AT ALL!!!  Only some nasty punch that was nothing but Hawaiian Punch.  I am sure they stirred something else into it, but for all intents and purposes, it was Hawaiian Punch, which I stopped drinking in the 4th grade.  It was very slushy, and unfortunately for this blog, I did not manage to drop an entire clump of frozen punch on my face.  Would have made for good reading though!!

Ok, so here I am at a Tea, with no Tea, I don’t know anyone, and I keep waiting for something to happen.  At 2:30, after I had been there for a full thirty minutes, the truth became known to me:  Nothing more was going to happen!!  Evidently, as each gift came in, the Storm Trooper bridesmaids would whisk it away, peel back the 10,000 layers of tissue paper and open the gift for the bride!!!!   FOUL, MURDER, POLICE!!!  What kind of  party is that where the guest of honor doesn’t even get to open her own damn presents????????  No decent food, no booze, and now no present opening???

Where was the veil made out of bows and paper??  Where were the stupid shower games filled with sly innuendo regarding the wedding night???  Where was the booze???

All my expectations were dashed.  Of course, the bride had it worse because she had to stay in her chair by the front door the entire time.  She didn’t even get to see her loot, unwrapped so lovingly by the Nazi bridesmaids!!  How do we know they weren’t stashing the good stuff somewhere so they could smuggle it out later??   I thought about grabbing the bride by the hand, snatching all the petit fours and making a run for Wings where we could get some decent food and a beer, but decorum got the better of me, and I made my demure good byes and got the hell out of Dodge!! 

Needless to say, when my daughters get married, all the parties will be huge, with fabulous food and enough tequila to float a boat!!  And by God, they will open their own presents so the bridesmaids can’t pick and choose from the merchandise!! 

My 5 year old daughter can make a sandwich.  I walked into the kitchen one day, and on her own, she had gotten out the bologna, the mayo and the bread, and she was making a sandwich.  I asked her if she wanted me to help her, and she flashed me a look and told me she could do it herself.  So I left the room.

Five minutes later, she came out with a perfectly made sandwich; she sat down and proceeded to devour it.  Why am I sharing this story with you?  Because I know people with children twice her age who cannot make sandwiches, or even wipe their own butts.  This makes me crazy.

At what point is it reasonable to expect your child to do things for him or herself?  When do you finally cut them loose and let them make mistakes and feel remorseful and get hurt?  In our day and age, never!  These same people whose children can’t make a lunch are the ones who are supporting their kids ad infinitum after college, which is just another stage of infancy these days.

I’ve got news for you people:  the kids will grow up and they will go away.  And I firmly believe the children whose parents empowered them will be less inclined to take risks and will be more successful in life.  Why do I feel that way?  Because a child has to learn, and the earlier the better in my opinion, that every action has a consequence.  If you stay up too late, you’re tired.  If you don’t eat when you’re supposed to, you’re hungry.  Children learn through repetition and that applies to mistakes as well.  If they make the same mistake often enough, they will learn not to repeat it. 

Why do I think coddled kids will be more inclined to take risks?  Because, with mom and dad hovering over them the entire time, they have never been able to experience things fully.  Also, mom and dad monitor them and make sure they never do anything that might hurt them.  Great in theory, but if you don’t learn through experience, it won’t stick. 

There’s a huge difference between theory and reality.  In theory, we know our children won’t take candy from strangers.  In reality, if the situation presents itself, we are not entirely sure what they will do.  All we can really do, as parents, is give them a variety of experiences that are as safe as we can make them, and hope for the best.  This includes camps, field trips, play dates, etc.  Anytime you let your child go away from you, you provide him or her with an opportunity to hone his or her instincts and learn how to rely on him or herself.  I truly believe this is the most valuable thing we can do for our children:  teach them how to live without us!

I know I am being judgemental and that I am on a soapbox.  But bottom line, parents have to let their kids go!  We can’t hover over them all the time, catching them before they can fall and hit the pavement.  We all had our shares of bumps and bruises, and here we all are, still alive and well today.  Ok, we do have the theory of evolution/survival of the fittest thing going on, but you get my point.

So cut the cord, grab your rosary, and let your kid out in the world without you.  Because you can’t always be there to save him from himself and the sooner he learns this, the better for him and for society!!!

I make Joan Crawford look like June Cleaver.  I know you are all shaking your heads in protest, trying to reassure me it’s not true, but it is.  Deep inside, I harbor a secret desire to force my children to eat bloody beef and to beat them about the head and shoulders with wire hangers.

I have had several days of uninterrupted childlessness.  You would think this time would be sufficient to rekindle in me some spark of maternal passion.  I mean, I do love the little buggers, but I really didn’t miss them.  I Worried about them, yes.  I worried that Abby would be abducted by white slave traders.  I worried that Anna would be sucked out to sea by the rip tide.  I worry about Josh, who is still at camp, possibly being infected by West Nile virus or Rocky Mountain spotted Fever as we speak.  But I can’t say I really missed them being here.

When I went to pick up the girls this morning, I hugged them tightly, sure.  I murmured all the right mommy words in their sweet little ears.  But no sooner did we get into the car than the Devil Mommy came out. 

It started because I drove a friend to the airport today and I still had his car, a Toyota Camry.  Well, Demon Child (aka Anna) immediately whipped herself up into a frenzy because she was hot.  It seems the little princess does not take well to a vehicle not equipped with rear air conditioning vents.  Her Majesty would never have survived the 1970’s!!  No air conditioning and my parents smoked in the car with the windows rolled up!!

We literally drove 50 yards before I had to pull over and physically move her into another seat so she could feel the air conditioning.  It’s a good thing we were far away from the river because I’m just not sure if I would have been able to resist the temptation.  Of course, had I thrown her in, she certainly would have been cooler!!

Once she cooled down, she immediately began whining because she was hungry.  Now not ten minutes before, she had told me she was too full to finish her sandwich.  I actually wrapped up half of it, but then left it at Nana’s house.  This escalated into a screaming match between us, with me assuring her that at 55 lbs, she was not even close to meeting the definition of malnourished!

At this point, we had been in the car together for about seven minutes and I was ready to dial the white slave traders up and make them an offer to take these girls off my hands!!  In between my issues with Anna, Abby kept up a running commentary about how fat her thighs are and how she needs to wear makeup.  If this is what having a daughter is all about, she is going to the orphanage.  She can chime in perfectly with me when I state the obvious “There is not an ounce of fat on your body Abby” but she doesn’t believe me. 

So Anna is screaming, Abby is alternately jiggling her “fat” thighs and moaning about why she can’t have a cell phone and I am fantasizing about doing a Thelma and Louise”esque” plunge off the interstate, only there wasn’t a canyon handy.  At this point I recognized the truth:  I am not meant to be a mother.  I am caring, I am nurturing, I can even bake homemade chocolate chip cookies, but I DO NOT LIKE CHILDREN!!!

If you are reading this and don’t know me, please don’t be alarmed.  I love my children passionately and would die for them.  I gave birth to two of them without the benefit of mind altering medications and this alone should prove my love.  I have rocked them, sung to them, read “Goodnight Moon” until I know every word by heart.  I love my children.

But Oh My God, the day to day business of child rearing is enough to make me smoke crack cocaine!!  I understand perfectly why so many women turn to alchohol.  How many times can you break up the “he touched me/she looked at me” argument before you absolutely lose your mind??!!!

My own sainted mother worked full time, came home every night and cooked a homemade meal.  We seldom ate at restaurants.  She also fixed two giant bourbon and cokes every night while she was cooking.  Well, I don’t begrudge her a single drop of bourbon!!  Anyone who has willingly subjected herself to the trials and tribulations of child rearing deserves a drink or three!!!  True, she did die young, but I am sure I drove her there by arguing with my brothers regarding who touched whom!!!

For the moment, the house is silent.  The little princesses have gone down the street to watch a movie at Nancy’s house.  I am sure Nancy is expecting me to get them soon, but little does she know my Greyhound bus to freedom leaves in ten minutes!!!

I went to meet my friend Karen for lunch today.  We met at Edgar’s Baker over in Patton Creek.  We have been trying to get together for two months now, but our schedules never meshed.  But today we meshed!

Let me slip into snooty food critic mode here for a moment.  I ordered the pecan chicken salad, which the menu described as grilled chicken on a bed of mixed greens, cranberries and pecans, topped with a raspberry vinaigrette.  The salad was huge and arranged beautifully on the plate.  The chicken was grilled perfectly, juicy and fork tender, and very lightly seasoned.  The mixed greens, however, were overpowered by raddichio.  A bit of raddichio is fine, but a plate full is just too much.  Plus, raddichio sounds like one of the Unforgivable Curses from Harry Potter, so it’s just that much less palatable.  My only other complaint is the pecans were not toasted, so they really didn’t do much for the salad.

Still, it was a good salad, very healthy and very full of fiber.  After lunch, we ordered dessert.  I chose the chocolate roulage, which, although very good, was not up to Cobb Lane standards. The cake was a bit tough and chewy, rather than moist.  The whipped filling was plentiful and good.

Karen and I were having an absolutely lovely time together.  Just two nice ladies, lunching together on the town in a refined sort of way.  Alas, as usual, I managed to kick it down a couple of notches.  That chock full of fiber salad made it’s way through my digestive tract in record time and started a sort of rumbling which could not be ignored.  I finally had to overcome my aversion to using public restrooms for “number 2″ and I excused myself to the bathroom.

I took care of business in record time.  I also blew my nose a lot; summer allergies you know.  So when I stood to flush, the toilet made an ominous noise and the contents started bubbling up like some frightful witches brew, instead of disappearing down into the depths. 

Now I don’t know about you, but this is absolutely one of the top 10 most horrific things that can happen!  I chalk it right up there with passing out naked in the shower and having to be removed by really hot paramedics who are not at all turned on by my cellulite and stretch marks.  Fortunately, there was a plunger next to the toilet.  Evidently, Edgar’s has experienced this difficulty before.

I grabbed the plunger and plunged, but it was a Dollar Store plunger and it DID NOTHING!!!  All it did was stir the contents around a little.  I stared in horror and for just a second, my panic stricken brain registered a perfect silhouette of Adolf Hitler outlined in the contents. 

At this point, I started to giggle, because I knew Karen was out in the restaurant, wondering just what the hell was I doing.  I started plunging more frantically, to no avail.  That shit (no pun intended) was just not going anywhere!  I plunged and giggled, plunged and giggled, and the more I plunged, the harder I giggled.  If anyone had been outside the restroom, which thank you Jesus, was a one holer, she would have thought I was having an epileptic fit!!

I finally managed to get the solid contents to disappear, but the toilet still would not flush.  At that point, still giggling maniacally, I decided it was Edgar’s problem.  After all, I had handled the hard part!!  Still giggling, I wrenched open the door, and there was Karen, standing there with my purse, looking at me like I was nuts!!

Fortunately, Karen’s sense of humor is as warped as my own, and we giggled together all the way out to the parking lot.  So if you visit the Edgar’s in Patton Creek, eat a lot of cheese before you go and don’t order the chicken salad!!!