Wine vs. Whine

Wine is great 

Wine is good

Drink plenty

Everyone should 

Whining is bad

Whining's not good

Please make them stop

I would if I could

You know how people like to say you should take something with 'a grain of salt'? Children need to be taken with 'a bottle of wine'. I firmly believe in the benefits of alcohol in the raising of children. I do NOT mean to give the children alcohol, although I have thought about it on more than one occasion myself. Alcohol creates different effects on different people. If it makes you mean and ugly, ignore all of this and keep it to the bar. If you're like me it mellows you out. This is a good thing in the raising of children since their sole purpose in life seems to be to push my every button. If this fails them, they've successfully been beaten. If you're a parent you know how important that ability is. My children can tell when I am drinking. Instead of saying things like, "I hate you and never want to see you again," they've been heard saying, "Mom, you're being fun today!"

Whining can be combatted with nothing but alcohol. I know this for a fact. I am a professional mom. I have taken many a parenting class. They all tell you how to successfully gain control of a situation. This is best done, they say, through timely punishments well suited to the 'crime'. Time-outs are thought highly of. None of these people have ever tried to get MY son into a successful time-out position. Unless you're a pro wrestler, it ain't happening. Sending them to the solitude of their room is another tactic. My son only attempts to break the door down which he's artfully locked on HIS side. After that fails he turns into a toy tornado successfully trashing his room which you know I won't be able to get him to clean. Removal of privileges is another suggestion. I take the Nintendo DS away only to have to deal with the child in the car or a restaurant without this amazing pacifier of sorts. If I take away TV I am removing many a half-hour of personal sanity in which they're quietly tuned in. When my daughter was younger and occasionally at fault I had to take her books away. Yup, the only thing that would upset her was being unable to read. How sick is taking books away? May I recommend the only proven solution: wine. It's a known fact that parental stresses and attitudes effect the children. If you've been transformed into a jolly old elf they will be, too. Laughter is a powerful tool, too. Wine is usually necessary to provoke laughter in the most bleak of situations. So why is that Super Nanny freak on TV so successful? She's a wino. She keeps a flask on her at all times. This rubs off on the children. Are your children so incorrigible that you have thought about intervention? Save all that money and buy a cheap bottle of wine.

Everything Blue

My face is red

The carpet is now blue

You'd better run fast

'Cause I might kill you

My daughter has a mouthwash fascination. Yes, the girl who won't brush her teeth. (?!) I never let her have any because I thought my son would swallow it or drink it or worse. This is the kid that hid in his room with a bottle of chewable vitamins when he was quite small and had a picnic with his stuffed moose. Well, didn't she come home from a friend's house with a sample of mouthwash from a hotel. This was like a new toy to her. I watched in awe as she brushed her teeth so she could swish the minty fluid about. 

I'm over protective to put it simply. I decided it was time to give in to the mouthwash woes. I got Listerine's Agent Cool Blue. It's designed especially for kids my son's age. Used before brushing it turns plaque dark blue. The mouthwash itself is very dark in color. The kids then brush until the teeth turn white, or at least that's the idea. They'd seen it on TV and about freaked when they saw I bought it. They clamored to brush right away, in the middle of the afternoon. Hmm, maybe this wouldn't be such a bad thing after all.

It turned their teeth blue. It turned the sink blue. It turned the yellow carpet blue... I was immediately disgusted that something so darn BLUE would be meant for kids. They obviously had a hard time keeping it in their mouths. 

That was the first day. The second day my son decided, for some reason unknown to me, to carry a cup of Cool Blue into his room without my knowledge. Of course, it got spilled. It looked like something CSI should be called in for. The blue stains and blue spatter were everywhere in his room, mainly concentrated on the light tan carpet.

If you don't know me very well, you might not know I have some serious OCD. This was gonna be a problem. I wasn't gonna lose it, though, I was determined. It took everything I had not to.  I went right to work cleaning. I don't even remember beating the child. I don't think I did, after all!

So what do I whip out but my magic blue bottle: Fantastic Oxygen Action. No, this is not a paid advertisement. I just love this stuff. If I thought my insides were dirty, I'd drink it. It takes anything out of anything. I found this miracle product when we had cats. Nothing else would remove cat feces from the carpet where Shiggy, in her sickened stupor, decided to wipe her ass in a long streak across the light grey carpet in the main room. Did I mention we no longer have cats? Anywho, nothing from pet stores or off the internet worked. This stuff rocks!

I was finally able to remove all of the blue from the door, woodwork, carpet and everything else within ten feet. I was feeling pretty smug. I had a talk with the kidlets in which they were sternly warned against further shenanigans. I was sure this wouldn't happen again.

Did it happen again? Nope. I took it away before there was a chance. What was the final straw, you wonder? It was bedtime. The kids didn't really want to brush their teeth but they made it to the bathroom anyway, just for the Cool Blue. Well, my son swished. He managed to do this without spilling it anywhere! Then he immediately ran out to the living room to inform us that he didn't need to brush. His teeth, it seemed, didn't turn blue at all. No blue teeth no plaque and thus no need to brush.  I was amazed that he was capable of such logic. That was the last of the Cool Blue. I really need to go write to the Listerine company now.

Wallpaper Woes

Ever stripped wallpaper? If you said, "No!" keep it that way. I love this new house of ours, don't get me wrong. Wallpaper, though, it's everywhere! Seriously, there is not a single room that isn't papered in some way, shape or form. The living room won't stay. Problem is, it's covering the whole room and it's vinyl. I must say, they used top of the line wallpaper. I fear it will never come down. I decided to start on the kitchen border since it looked like it might be easier and if not at least a smaller task. What a mistake that assumption was.

I decided to invite my sister-in-law over to help. She's got a death wish, I guess, and loves to strip wallpaper, she said. I fixed her quick. We bought 'The Paper Tiger' it's a round hand held contraption that pierces millions of tiny holes in the paper for the remover to penetrate to better reach the glue underneath. That's the idea, anyway. It sounds better than it is. I finally broke it. We tried fabric softener, first, as a glue loosening agent. It made my house April Fresh, but did little else. Then it was time for the big guns. I'd bought DIF, a wallpaper stripper solution. It's supposed to dissolve the glue. Yeah, right. Nothing dissolves the glue- nothing. It also smelled pleasant and not as over powering as the fabric softener. 

We followed the directions to a T. Still, the paper scraped off in teeny tiny little pieces leaving the backing and glue behind. My sister-in-law was artfully able to remove the backing, somehow. I was not. Everywhere I did still shows the underneath of the paper. Grr.

Finally it was time, after about three hours, for my sister-in-law to leave. She had to meet a bus at home with her daughter on it. That's more important that my wallpaper, I found out.  :(  I was left alone to my own devices. Gulp. I did very little over the next few hours. When I gave up, finally, I still had about 1/3 of the room to go- seriously. 

I bit the bullet and took on another session a few days later. I got a good amount done. Still, it's not done. I've given up. The hideous border remains just enough to taunt me every time I see it. It's hard to miss. 

I've resigned myself to failure. I am going to have to suck it up and invite my sister-in-law over all the damn time or hire someone. If a professional has the same hard time we had, it'll be prohibitively expensive. The funny thing is, the living room, which I hate, matches our furniture beautifully. It's just so not me. Wallpaper, in general, is just not me. The kitchen matches my dishes. The bedrooms match our bedding. Why do I want it down? Maybe I don't. Hypnosis to make me love it might be the best solution.

Wii Addiction

We got the Wii for Christmas. My kids never once asked for it. That hardly stopped me. It sat under the bed for about a month. I wanted to open it up and try it so badly. Finally the big day came. The Wii was a hit all around, thank dog. It might have been the first thing we set up from all of that present carnage. It was instant wonder.

The kids only ever play it now when friends come over. It is, after all, the ultimate party device. It seems every time anyone comes over the Wii is the center of attention. We have a tween girl karaoke game with a microphone. We have Guitar Hero, which is plain impossible, I decided, after another adult friend and I made complete asses of ourselves one night trying like hell to master it, only to be miffed.

I am addicted to Wii Sports (which the system comes with) bowling. If you know The Dude (what my friends call me in honor of The Big Lebowski) you know she likes to bowl. I am so much better in Wii bowling than I am in real life. I think that's the case with everyone because my young nephews have me beat, hands down. Still, I'm a pro. That's one of my dreams, to either be a pro bowler or own a bowling alley. I know. Toddler's addicted to Dr. Mario. He can battle those viruses for hours on end. If only he were a real doctor...

I decided after a while that if anyone was going to have Wii Fit it was gonna be me. They advertise them every Sunday everywhere for $89. Think anyone actually receives any in their shipment? Nope. The people I know who have them happened upon them before Christmas. Even then I saw none.  :(  I called, literally, 14 stores. Think one had it? Nope! I tried this for three or four days and finally got lucky. One store had ONE and they saved it for me. 

Wii Fit can be addictive and annoying at the same time. It gives you a Wii Fit age based upon your ability to center your weight on the board. My first Wii Fit age was embarrassing. It told me I must trip when I walk. I kid you not. It's a sarcastic little bastard. . We immediately bonded. The first week I worked out for over two hours in three days with it. I haven't really done it much since, but it is a lot of fun. I just tend to ignore anything that might make me feel better about myself. It ruins everything I stand for.

Then there's Bocce and Shuffleboard and all sorts of other highly addictive games that I can use to make a fool of myself. You know the computerized opponents even make fun of you when you play? Seriously. They have a field day with me. Nothing like a little Wii to boost one's self-esteem. 

Come on over. We can play Wii if you don't already have one. I think everyone got one for Christmas. You probably did, too. Come over anyway; you can laugh at me!

Black Friday

I just got a 10MP digital Kodak camera that sells for $160 that was on sale for $90 for Black Friday. I got to Target with the kids about 20 minutes after they opened. It took me a minute to find electronics where I was told they were gone. I looked further and found 10 or so on an end cap at the bottom in the back where they were nearly invisible.  :)  I grabbed the camera, the memory card that sells for $20 but was on sale for $8 and I got the sale priced extra lithium ion battery, case, cloth, etc. set. 

I found a line with only one other person in it because carts couldn't get to it thanks to an ill placed pole. Everyone else was backed up way into apparel. LOL They glared at me like I was stealing, but I wasn't and there was simply nothing they could do but stand there and wait. I was out of the parking lot with my loot within 15 minutes. Channel 9 was there, cops everywhere. The only other item I was contemplating was Guitar Hero for Wii. First off, those were gone. Secondly, I couldn't have gotten it with the kids in tow. I wasn't heartbroken.

The viewer on this camera is almost 3"! It's a great camera. It's charging now, but I did try it while plugged in. My favorite digi cam I've ever had was a Kodak. I'm excited to use it in Malone tomorrow!

We went from there to get gas. It was only $1.84. I got a whole full tank from empty for $32! I felt like I was stealing for real there. Then we got breakfast at McD's where the kids had the whole play place to themselves. We got home just after dawn.

I've never done it before and probably never will do it again, but I had a successful Black Friday field trip today.  :)

Permanent Hell?

So, as you've read I am a substitute lunch lady. I am being told by my loving but insane husband that I should actually go in when called in. I guess we have to pay for the new house. They never made that clear enough for me when we bought it. Grr. I prefer to say I have an appointment or something of the like, when called in, which hasn't been a total falsehood as of yet. I did go out to breakfast with friends at a previously agreed upon time. That's an appointment. I was actually sick once when called in. The other times, for the most part, I have gone in.

It's a terrible feeling not knowing from one day to the next if I am working or not. I need mental prep time before such a job. Any job is disconcerting when it's new. This one is nerve racking to me. It should be no big deal, but I take everything very seriously. I wish I didn't. I wish I could just relax and even slack off sometimes, but no. I was raised strict Catholic; enough said. I hate the dish washing, which I always end up having a hand in. The rest of the chores involved with the job are largely unknown to me still, so I can't just make myself busy. I also can't seem to be fast enough at anything for my taste. It's like a big race. I'm wasn't born with lunch lady speed, it seems. It'll have to be learned. Joy. There's nothing I'd like better than to become a fast lunch lady.

So I got called in to the high school on Monday for later in the week. I had to go today. I couldn't even remember how to get there since I'd only been there once before, a month and a half ago. Tom Tom got me there. Tom Tom thinks it's down the road further, but last time when I got lost I made a mental note so as to not do it again. I think it takes me like 20 minutes to get there. It's not my choice of schools to work at. One elementary school is not even a mile from my house. Another elementary and the middle school are close enough. I guess 20 minutes is okay when you live in the middle of nowhere. I'm trying to get used to that. Everyone complains that working at the high school is too hard; they're too busy there they all say. I have found all places to be equally frustrating and busy. 

I am working there three days consecutively this week. That's a huge commitment for me. At least this week I'm not getting the calls the morning they expect me. I was asked to work 4 days, but I turned one down. Luckily, I had made previous plans. It's Halloween that last day and my kids have a parade. Toddler and I plan to attend. He took the day off. That got me out of one day.

I was doing something at work this morning when an older woman whose name I don't know (I know only 2 people's names there of the 6 or so.) confided quietly to me that a position is open. She wondered if I'd applied. This was news to me. She showed me the write up, taped to a table, that explained the position. It's 3 hours a day, 5 days a week, school days only. That would give me snow days and off days home with the kids causing no need for any type of day care. It also allows me to put them on and take them off the bus. It looks so good on paper. It pays about $2/hr. more than I currently make for doing the same job at no notice. The woman told me to steal the paper so I would have the info with which to apply. I did, feeling like red flashing lights and sirens would go off at any minute, triggered by the theft.

Yes, I applied. I had no time to think about it. The deadline for application is tomorrow. I had to scurry home and get the resume out ASAP. I thought it might be nice to have real resume paper for the resume, of which I had none. I scoured the town for some. That means I tried the two stores I live anywhere near. No dice. No resume paper either. I did score a 99 cent pumpkin spice latte, however. Dunkin Donuts is in town and they have a special from 2-5pm right now. I just applied there, too, but I doubt they'd let me work the hours I want. I worked there about 8 years ago, too, and it wasn't a great job. Nothing I can do really is. 

The resume got printed on plain paper and I rushed back out to the post office. I tried the door and it seemed locked. The last time I'd gone to the post office it was closed up tight, so this didn't surprise me. I sighed and dropped the horribly time sensitive post in the outdoor box. As the little door to the postal box slammed shut didn't another car pull up. The woman who materialized from it was able to open the door effortlessly. Doh! I then saw visions of a sitcom. I saw myself in the box, feet sticking out, in pursuit of my letter. I stared at the box instead. It said the last pickup would be 4:45pm. I was somewhat safe. It would, in fact, go out today. I just wanted it out earlier today. I was troubled that someone else might get this job that I don't really want instead of me. What is my problem? I don't know. I guess if I have to work this is my best bet. Oh bother.

Garage Sales Suck

Some people live for this. I hate it. I hate all of it. I hate the sorting and unpacking of the shit. I hate the arranging and pricing of the shit. I hate the advertising of the shit and the marketing of the sale and items. If it weren't for my mom who lives for such insanity, I'd have never made it so far. I stood by largely watching her work her magic to make this whole stupid idea work.

Why even do it? Why punish myself by even having a garage sale? Well, geniuses as we are, we bought a house sans storage. We moved from a house with a full attic and basement to one with neither. It's really a good thing, mostly. I mean, I no longer have to take two flights of stairs to a dungeon full of boxes of unused who-knows-what to do the laundry. Basements are spider and dust ridden nastiness from wall to cold concrete wall. Attics are cool, I guess. The thing is, the more storage space you have the more you tend to store. We had a lot of space and we lived there 11 years. Enough said.

So, I've had a sale for four days, three weeks in a row. The first few days were actually kind of nice in that I made a killing and met all of my neighbors, all of which I like. The next few days I made less and saw a lot of the same people over and over. I'd forgotten their names, so I felt awkward talking to them, all the while wondering what to call them, if anything, and in what house near me they lived. The days passed such that each got less prosperous. I think I made over $200 the first day. Today, I made $6. There's new stuff out all the time, too, so it's not that my stuff is too picked over. I think everyone in the entire small town has been here a few times already. It's really too bad, too, 'cause I still have so much to sell. I don't care so much about the money as I do about getting rid of the stuff we can no longer use or store. I can't donate it ALL, though. Some of it is too pricey and or priceless. People have said they'd come back for the big ticket items and of course they didn't.

Then there's the thieves. My sister wanted me to put out some of her stuff. There still is a camera she wants $100 for and a bracelet she wants $42 for. One bracelet already sold. The third was lifted right out from under me. Some older woman who was dressed so expensively and stylishly came. She was interested in one of the bracelets. She asked me how to do the clasp. I showed her. I put it on her and feigned delight at how it lit up her wrist. She took it off, put it back, and continued to shop. She ended up buying a lot of small stuff. I bagged it all and tallied her bill. She chatted nicely and I never thought. I took it one tragic step too far. I decided she needed a rubber band on the board game she bought so as to not lose all of the pieces. I told her I'd be right back. No one was there. I'd just be a second for a rubber band. Nope. I couldn't find one and quickly gave up figuring tape would have to do. I returned to her side to take the cash and give her the bag. She was terribly cordial in a classy way. I enjoyed chatting with her as sitting there all day is crazy boring. She left. I felt good that I'd sold a bunch. I decided to busy myself by rearranging the stock to cover up the empty spaces that her purchases left. DOH! I saw right then- the bracelet was gone. The very one she'd fawned over. Son of a bitch! I'd just been taken by an old lady who could buy and sell me a few times over. I felt terrible. I called my sister in Georgia to explain the tragedy and apologize. I felt like hell for letting that happen. I contrived all of these ideas to track her down and accuse her, but none of them were logical. It was just a lame attempt to make myself feel better. Now the cameras and last bracelet are in the house. A sign tells people to ask me to see the big ticket items. Nobody even reads it.

People are idiots. My driveway is probably 150' long, right? Ok. Well, at the very end of it is the two+ car garage packed FULL of items for sale. The stock ranges from Syracuse China to socks. You know, people will actually slow down and make a rolling stop out front as if seeing my wares and discounting them all from 150'. I had no idea people in these parts had x-ray vision. They need a way to market that. Then there are the men. Why do men go to garage sales? Good question. I can't answer it. They sometimes ask up front if I have certain items: hunting and fishing goods, stamps, postcards, old gold, tools and electronics. I can respect that. I often know just what I want and asking is logical. Why not take a quick peek, though? What if I have something you didn't know you needed? Then there're the men who just stand outside the entrance to the garage glaring in before returning to their car. The rest of the men revolve around any electronics I have, no matter how lame and old they are. None buy much of anything. The women are slobs. They fondle everything that is laid out with precision for the best possible display, putting nothing back the way they find it. They put back $1 items because they're too expensive yet they'll go to the dollar stores and load up a cart full of crap. Nobody ever looks over the inventory well enough to see everything. I especially like the people who survey half of the garage, seemingly interested, only to leave without even glancing at the other half. One guy had the balls to ask me to take $5 for a stand my uncle made me by hand. I'd labeled it $10. That's a deep discount, is it not? I paused and gently replied that I'd gladly do $7 but not less. He said, "Nope. $5." I said, "Sorry." He said, "I'm walking away!" as if to scare me into taking $5 for this priceless piece of my childhood that would surely serve anyone well for years to come. I said, "Ok, then, have a nice day." Inside my mind, I said, "Leave fast before I slash your tires, Asshole!"

Over all, garage sales are a big fat pain in the back side. I don't recommend anyone have one. However, if you happen to stop at one, be respectful of the poor slob who has to sit there all day. Look the stuff over well, don't haggle about ridiculously low prices, and put things back how you find them.