Friday, June 24, 2011

Some Friendly Advice

After going to court yesterday, it occurred to me that some of you might need some advice:

First of all, if you are working your way through college at a strip club (because that's the only reason anyone ever works at a strip club) don't be surprised if some drunken man or a drunken co-worker tries to beat the crap out of you.  I'm not saying you deserve it; I'm just saying don't be surprised.  Also, don't be surprised if your co-workers try to steal your cocaine.  Some people just have no morals.

Don't be surprised if your husband or boyfriend is beating you bloody and you are yelling for someone to call the police, and someone does.  So try not to get too hostile with the police that were called at your request, or with the person that honored your request and called them.  Perhaps a more appropriate outlet for your anger would be the douche that was beating you.

When you write a statement at the time of your abusive husband/boyfriend's arrest, please don't change your story when you go to court.  Everyone knows you're lying.  It happens everyday, and it does nothing but make you, your husband/boyfriend, and your husband/boyfriend's public defender look like giant idiots.

If you are going to steal a dozen or so items, try not to leave your wallet in the gym bag with those items.

Try not to call your public defender a bitch.  She really is the only person in the room on your side.

Try not to hug your public defender.  She is being nice, but she really is afraid of the lice she thinks are jumping from your hair to hers.  Give her some peace, please.

Do not ever, ever tell your arresting officer that his hat "looks gay", regardless of how silly it really does look.  You just have to trust me on this one.

Don't ask me for bus fare.  I got burned on that once, and it's not happening again!  

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

I'm Ba-a-ack!

So here's my next report on being a sahm:

Still nothing. Zero. Zip.

I've stayed at home, and I've been a mom, but I've been sooo sick for weeks.  I mean, I've been Black Plague sick.  It's been awful.  I just manged to kinda get my voice back on Thursday.  All I could do for weeks was to go to Delaney and Daniel's graduation and graduation parties (cause I'm just THAT kind of mom).  Unfortunately, I don't have any pictures to show you just yet because I don't know how to work the camera. 

Oh, wait!  Yesterday, I did manage to go to a mandatory cheerleading meeting for Emerson and then spray half a bottle of weed killer on the tall-as-my-knees weeds in my flower beds.  That's a sure sign I'm on the mend.

I kinda don't want to be on the mend, though.  I lost about ten pounds during this little illness, so I'm quite certain I could have the Black Plague everyday and be perfectly happy.

Love,
Melissa

Friday, June 10, 2011

I'll Be Sleeping With The Fishes

Okay, it's time to report back to you about my first week as a sahm.

I have nothing. Zero. Zip.

This was Emerson's last week of school, so I gave her cold cereal for breakfast while in my pajamas, and I didn't have to teach her the wonders of the universe over noon-time lunches, and most nights I fell asleep before she did.  One day I even stayed in my pajamas all day!

So I guess I failed.  Surprised?

Well, I did have one MAJOR Pass that my brain turned into a FAIL.

I managed to dodge the PTA all week!  They wanted me to chaperone a field trip at the zoo, but, darn, I had a doctor's appointment that day.

They wanted me to help out with Field Day, but I had company coming in from out of town.

They wanted me to help with lunch duty, but I had an appointment to take my car into the shop at that precise time!

Can you believe the coincidences?

I just plain wasn't doing any of that.  There was a torrential downpour at the zoo and, well...it kinda smells like animals at the zoo.  Out!

I hated Field Day back when I was a participant, and I can't even imagine what it would be like to re-live that experience.  I would probably suffer PTSD and go kill my old gym teacher, Mr. Austin.

And the cafeteria thing--no way!  The cafeteria lady scares me.  All cafeteria ladies are mean, and this one does nothing but yell, even at the parent helpers.  No way, no how was that happening!  I had enough of the cafeteria lady when I was in school!  These kids are on their own with her!

I was feeling smug and quite proud of my accomplishments until I realized whom I was dealing with:  I WAS MESSING WITH THE P FRIGGIN' T FRIGGIN' A!!!!!!!

Now I'm scared.

Aren't the PTA moms trained by the Mafia, or don't they go to one of those guerrilla warfare camps or something?  I think they try to hide it, but I've heard rumors.  If you get one of them mad, you've had it.  You end up wearing the cement shoes.  The "dues" are actually payment to keep them from breaking your legs if you say no.

And I said no THREE TIMES in one week!

I know I'm waking up tomorrow morning with my cat's head  in my bed.

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

Gratitude

After telling HolyMama! that I was going to do it, I am stealing her idea for a post (because, as I teach my children, if you're going to steal something, you have to tell the owner first).

So, right here, right now, I am grateful:

for my family, friends, home, health, blah, blah, blah.  Amen.

for the fact that my children are in school and Danny is at work, which gives me the opportunity to neglect my sahm duties in favor of blogging and Bejeweled Blitz.

for my pajamas, which I am still wearing, at 12:37 p.m. EST.

for my other pajamas, which I will put on tonight after my bath, when I finally take off these pajamas.

for my mother, who has not asked me in the last five minutes who I am.

for my mother, who has not asked me in the last five minutes who my father is.  ( I always give her the name Amil Dinsio when she asks that question, but I then explain that she's the only one who knows for sure.  I mean, am I right or am I right?)

for Benadryl.

for the fact that the spider bite on my right butt cheek is going away.  It itched so much.  I can't even explain how much it itched, it was so bad.  It was one of those itches that causes you to look around to see if anyone's watching, then rub up against something to scratch it.  (Stop looking at me like that!  You know you've done it!)

for napkins, because we're out of toilet paper.  (You're looking at me like that again!  Stop it!  You know you've done that one too!)

for Lexapro.

for HolyMama!, who doesn't mind that I steal her stuff.
_________________________________________

Thank you all for your comments about my pictures in my last post.  The result:  I'm still undecided. (Who didn't know that was going to be the result?!)  If I have to get head shots taken by a professional, I will D to the I to the E!  I hate pictures of myself!  But, seriously, some of you said the sweetest things, and I cherish you for it!

Love,
Melissa

Friday, June 3, 2011

Where Is The Craft Aisle?

So, Monday will be my first official day as a stay-at-home-mom. 

I'm thrilled about it, but I'm not exactly sure how it happened.  One minute Danny was the one staying at home, and then the next minute it was me.  I do recall some hormonal churning and crying on my part while blubbering something like, "She's my last baby and I'm missing everything."

I've never done this before, so I've planned out our days together, and this is what I have so far:

I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to get out of bed before she does, take my Lexapro so no one gets killed, and make her something like eggs and toast and get her a glass of milk.  Giving her a bowl full of sugar-infused cereal and telling her to get her own juice box doesn't cut it when you're a SAHM, right?

While she's eating, I think I'm supposed to get some meat out of the freezer for dinner and put it in a crock pot.  Or let it thaw. Or do something with it.

Then I get her dressed, right?  Wait, am I supposed to get dressed before breakfast?  Or do I do it before the meat thing?

Sometime during the eating of the eggs and toast, I put in a load of laundry.

Then I clean something--like the refrigerator--while letting her watch something educational on television.  Educational programming is okay, right?

After I put the load of laundry in the dryer, we go for a walk during which I point out how a caterpillar becomes a butterfly.  (I need to brush up on the wonders of nature by next week.  I'm not really sure how any of that happens.)

Are we supposed to eat lunch on our walk and turn it into a picnic?  Or do we have something nutritious at home after the walk?  (Note to self:  Learn about nutritious lunches ASAP!)

Then we do some craft project that involves popsicle sticks or gluing macaroni onto something. FYI, I am really screwed in this department.  I need to buy LOTS of books about crafts because I HATE them.  (But don't tell anyone that; I think you get stoned to death if you're a SAHM and you hate crafts!)

After the crafty stuff, I should make dinner, or stir what's in the crock pot, or something like that.

How am I doing so far?

Then Danny walks in the door and we all stand around him and sing, "I'm So Glad When Daddy Comes Home."

After the song, we sit down to a lovely dinner, during which Emerson will explain how a caterpillar turns into a butterfly.

I'm pretty sure that I clean up the dinner dishes while Danny and Emerson play lovingly in the living room.

Then it's bath time for Emerson.

Hold the presses!  Why do I still stink?  When am I supposed to take my shower?  Is it during the eggs and toast?  And if so, when is the laundry supposed to get washed?

Then it's bedtime for Emerson.  I let her pick out a book and I read it to her while making funny voices for all the characters.  I kiss her goodnight, and she says, "Thanks for a wonderful day, Mommy, and thanks for sacrificing your career for it."

Once she's asleep, I clean something else and go to bed, anxiously awaiting the next day when I get to do it all over again.

So, what am I really supposed to do all day?

And when am I supposed to blog?!!!!!

Seriously, people, I'm freaking out!!!  I give this whole thing about 3 days, max.

Remember the name Emerson Dinsio.  Someday you'll hear it again, and that time it will be associated with guns and clock towers.

And Matt Lauer will tell you it's all because her mother hated glitter glue.