I'm really not that busy

Finding hilarity in the mundane since 2008

Monthly Archives: August 2009


Last night, my cold took a turn for the worse at bedtime.  Right as we were settling in for bed, I started coughing.  I have the most annoying cough ever.  It always sounds a little forced or fake, even to me.  I can only imagine how it sounds to the person trying to sleep next to me.

We had no cold medicine in the house, so I decided to improvise.  I took my feverish, lung horking self to the pantry, climbed on the step stool, and got down the Forty Creek.  I poured about a finger of whiskey in a glass and stirred in some honey.  I let myself have one last coughing fit, then I slugged it back.  The coughing stopped immediately and I slept all night.

This morning, I started coughing as soon as I stood up.  Tony suggested I have some more whiskey, but it just didn’t seem practical, you know?  I can just imagine my morning after a shot of Gramma Bodean’s Cure-All…

Scene one, the kitchen:  As I’m setting out the whiskey and honey, Jack wonders into the kitchen.  He spies the vaguely familiar bottle of whiskey and the extremely familiar jar of honey and asks if I am making something special for breakfast.  I tell him, “This is a special drink for Mama.  I need it to feel better.”  He asks what’s in it.  Of course I tell him, there’s really nothing to be evasive about, this is homeopathic medicine in it’s truest form.  He loses interest because a commercial for Paperoni is on the TV.

Scene two, driving to school:  The whiskey is flowing through my body like a lovely little flame.  I feel relaxed and have no urge to cough.  I cross the center line slightly, but it’s okay because we’re not in the school zone yet.

Scene three, Jack’s school:  Cooper and Jack have taken off down the hall without me.  I’m resting on the bench by the “native” fish tank (we live in Arkansas, so you can imagine what’s in the tank). Finally I work up the energy to walk to the classroom.  Jack is in his seat, Cooper is destroying a book or doll or cinder block or something.  Mrs. L says, “There you are. Are you feeling okay?  You look flushed.”  I sway slightly and reply , “I’m *hiccup* just a little under the weather.”  Jack overhears and adds, “Mama had to have a special whiskey drink this morning because she doesn’t feel good without it.”

Scene four, the back of a police car…


By the way

Go up to Blog Info and get the drop down menu, then click on Random Post.  It will pull up any old post from my site.  Holy Cow, it’s hysterical!  I keep finding old typos and grammatical errors and have to stop myself from fixing them.  I want to leave things as they were so I can see how my writing develops.  It mostly has a better flow to it now, but it’s still not where I want it to be.  I have that “I write like I talk” syndrome.  When people say that, I assume it means they don’t proofread.  I do proofread and I still find crazy horrible errors.

I’d quit my bellyaching, but it’s my head that hurts

I’m trying to make myself write something everyday.  However, I have a sinus infection.  When I’m sick, my appetite is the first thing to go.  Second is my energy.  Third is my will to live.  Last is my sense of humor.  Since this post is not funny at all, we have officially reached a def-con 4 level of illness.  Tony is leaving for New Jersey in the morning.  I have to be completely well by 6 a.m.  This effing sucks.

This may be a dramatization, or not

Coco called me earlier this week & asked if she could have the boys Saturday night.  I said, “Hang on…” and I jumped up and down.  Jumping up and down made me pee myself a little because having babies wears out your pee-stopper (yes, that’s the official medical term), so I went to the bathroom.  While in the bathroom, I noticed the toilet paper was out, so I changed it and re-stacked the extra rolls in a more symmetrical pattern.  Then Cooper came looking for me because I had been out of his sight for twenty seconds.  Cooper likes cotton balls, and the cotton balls are in the bathroom, so I had to get one down for him.  Then he wanted a q-tip, because cotton balls and q-tips go together like PB & J.  Then I had to go get the floor sweeper because he was already leaving a little cottony trail through the house.  Then he wanted to sweep too.  Then I had to rescue a rug from the sweeper.  Then I had to empty the sweeper.  While emptying the sweeper, I noticed the pantry looked less than perfect, so I spent a few minutes putting it back in OCD order.  Which made me notice we were out of a few items, so I started a grocery list.  Cooper saw that I had a pen & paper, so he wanted to color.  That made Jack want to color.  I got out some markers and paper.  That lasted all of four minutes, then they wanted snacks.  They did not want the same snack.  So I made two entirely different snacks.  Then I had to get out the floor sweeper again (don’t ask).  Then the cat barfed.  Then Cooper spent the next ten minutes looking all over the house for “cat poo-poo”.  He never found any, but I had to investigate every time he said he did because what if he’s right and I ignore him?  Then the cat barfed again.  Then Cooper wanted outside.  I let him out back, and went to get myself some shoes so I could join him. Forty seconds after I donned my shoes and stepped outside, he wanted back in.  Then Jack wanted me to scratch his back.  Then Cooper screamed, “No Jack”, and pushed him away from me and sat beside me. Then Jack snuck around to my other side and made me scratch his back in secret.  Then Cooper noticed that and set fire to the couch in protest.  Then Jack ran to the neighbor’s house for help, but he got distracted by another kid who wanted to talk about an iCarly episode.  So our house burned down. Then Coco called back and asked if she could keep the boys on Saturday night.  I said, “Hang on…”, and did a happy dance.  The dancing made me pee myself a little.

The school germs have hit

Jack has had a stuffy nose all week.  I thought it was allergies, so I started him on Zyrtec.  This morning I awoke with a cold.  I’m tired and achy, so this is it for the blog today.  I’ll catch you guys tomorrow.

I’m really not that busy

It’s that time again.  It’s nearly 10 a.m. and I find myself bored and feeling a bit lost.  Jack’s at school.  Cooper’s happily playing with play-doh.  The house is clean and neat.  There’s nothing good to watch, read, or browse…

…. Sorry, had to get Cooper a drink…

I know a lot of SAHMs feel there aren’t enough hours in the day, but I feel like there are about two too many.  Particularly, the hours 9-11 a.m.  This is the dull point of pretty much every day of my life…

… Had to step away for a minute.  Play-doh assistance was required…

I’ve considered putting Cooper in a Mother’s Day Out program so I could get a part-time job.  However, none of the MDOs in my area seem to be quite what I need….

… Someone wanted a cheese slice…

… DVD skipped…

… New DVD was requested…

The MDOs start at 9 and end at 2.  If I’m going to accomplish anything, I need him to be in care for the same hours Jack is in school…

… Poop…

So, daycare is out for the time being.  In the fall of 2011 he will go to pre-K…

… More play-doh assistance required…

… Apple slices necessary before starvation sets in…

… The cat jumped on the table and was licking play-doh…

… “Hugs, Mama!”…

… A fly landed on the play-doh, freak-out ensued…

… DVD ended.  Damn that one is short…

I wonder if I’ll have more to do then.

Not the day

Today was going to be the day.  Not THE* day. But, the day, nonetheless. Today, I was going to clean out the front flower beds.  However, the universe had other plans for me.

First, I inflicted a steam burn on myself while making coffee.  I’ve been successfully boiling water for over 25 years without incident or injury.  Oh well, thought I, the gardening gloves probably won’t rub that too much.

Second, it got HOT.  When I went out for the paper at 6:15 it was 63 degrees. Wow, what a nice day for working outside.  By 7:30 it was 71 degrees.  Hmm, sure is warming up.

Third, my hedge trimmers went missing.  Strange, I saw them less than a week ago.

Fourth, hell, who am I kidding?  I was never really going to clean out that flower bed today.

*THE day is reserved for cleaning out the garage and is tentatively scheduled for late October.

At least we had no cavities

I’ve started and stalled out on this post three times today.  It’s supposed to be about taking the boys to the dentist this morning.  Finally, I figured out my problem.  My boys + the dentist = nightmare.

Basically, it was so horrible that I don’t want to relive it, even in blog form.

Maybe tomorrow I’ll have recovered enough to find the funny.  Today the wounds are too fresh.

Yes, there are some stupid questions

Tonight Jack started Cub Scouts.  While Jack was off with his den, I was in an informational meeting for parents.  Meetings like this are one of the reasons I cannot imagine myself ever returning to “normal” employment.  Meetings bring out the stupid in people like nothing else can.

I tolerated the informative portion of the meeting with very little zoning out or whispering to my friend. There was some over-explaining of simple forms and some reading aloud of handouts (what’s the point of handing them out if you’re going to read it to me anyway?) Overall, I thought it was pretty painless, but then they began the “audience question” portion.

NO!  Don’t do that shit to me.  Just have the idiots corner you after the meeting so I can escape.  Questions after a meeting always fall into three categories. First are the questions that pertain only to the asker and should be saved for later.  Next are the questions that aren’t actually questions, they’re really just an opportunity for the asker to point out a mistake or show off some knowledge that we DON’T GIVE A CRAP ABOUT EAGLE SCOUT PARENTS WITH KIDS WHO ARE OLD ENOUGH TO DRIVE THEMSELVES TO SCOUTS AND YOUR KID IS A DORK BECAUSE YOU HOVER. Sorry was I yelling? Finally, are the stupid questions.  If you really believe there are no stupid questions, you are officially uninvited from reading this blog.

This evening’s stupid question went something like this, “When I first arrived, I noticed a large group of boys over here in the corner who were getting rowdy and even fighting a bit.  Is it normal for the kids to go unsupervised like that?”  By itself, not a terribly stupid question, but let’s add in some facts.

  • The boys were playing red light/green light which involves *gasp* running.
  • Red light/green light is a *double gasp* competitive game.
  • Boys WILL *triple gasp* knock each other over to win.
  • Pretty much ALL the parents were in the room watching this activity and no one felt the need to intervene for their child’s safety (including the question asker).

The scout master handled it brilliantly.  He replied that acceptable behavior in scouting is different from acceptable behavior at school.  He explained that appropriate “school behavior” has a more feminine slant, so they allow the boys to be much more rambunctious and physical at scouting than you would ever see at school.

He could have stopped here and I would have been satisfied with his reply.  It would have been polite to ignore her comment about unsupervised children, but it would have also been a bit wussy.  He totally called her out on it.  He said he didn’t feel that twelve boys in a room full of parents would be considered unsupervised.  He also added that she was welcome and even obligated to call bad behavior to his attention when it is happening or even step in with discipline herself.

I’m gonna like Cub Scouts.  Just don’t expect me to actually, you know, camp.

Circle, circle, dot, dot

Tonight, Jack asked, “What happens if a boy sits in girl cooties?”  Without even glancing at each other, Tony and I both said, “You have a baby.”  Then I gave Jack a cootie shot, because I’m not prepared to be a grandma yet.

But they say it in nursery rhymes

I debated writing about this because the google pervs might come calling.  I’m going to trick them with some replacement typing.  Okay, here goes.

Jack went to a birthday party this afternoon.  The kids were splashing in the pool and running around with water guns and balloons.  The moms were sitting in the shade talking about nothing specific because we all had one eye and ear tuned to the increasingly manic kids.

Without much discussion, the kids’ play became more organized.  They divided themselves into two teams.  The guns began squirting in a more specific way, and the balloons were aimed with intent.  We mom’s sat back and began to talk amongst ourselves in earnest.

Then we heard it.  A dirty word.  Not a BAD word, but certainly not one you expect seven-year-olds to say.  We asked each other, “Did you hear…?” and “Are they saying…?”  The kids, it seems, were teams of cats, pu$$y cats (take that google perv$) to be exact.  The moms smiled and shrugged and went on with the chatting.

The game, however, got louder.  The kids were meowing and hissing and screaming things like, “I’m a bad pu$$y cat.”  One of the more juvenile moms (Whoever could that have been?) giggled a bit.  And as the game progressed, the word cat was dropped.

That’s right, folks, our kids were now screaming the word pu$$y at great volumes and with much fervor.  I had to excuse myself to the restroom so I could laugh out loud.  The other moms just didn’t seem as amused as I was.

Seriously?  How can you hear your kid yell, “Don’t get me wet, I’m a good pu$$y”, and keep a straight face?

The breaking point for me was when one of the kids went vigilante.  He grabbed the biggest water gun in the yard and indiscriminately began shooting everyone while hollering, “I’m the pu$$inator!”

All I could think was: Giant dildo with whiskers.

Fun with body wash

Today at Wal-Mart, I was in line behind a woman who purchased $678.31 worth of body wash. I know there was likely a logical and altruistic reason behind this purchase. I, however, found it much more entertaining to draw my own conclusions.

  • She operates a halfway house for people who’ve recently overcome ablutophobia.
  • She’s a lesbian who really believes Axe products drive women crazy.
  • She has 22 children and counting, but she doesn’t exploit her family for handouts, so no one has ever heard of her.
  • She’s a very dirty girl.
  • She’s planning a gigantic bubble rave straight out of 1994.

On the OCD front, I did two projects. I re-organized the cabinets in the master bathroom.  I also took all the kid’s DVDs out of their original cases and put them in travel cases.  We went from 30,000 square feet of DVD storage (slight exaggeration) to two cases that fit on a small shelf in Jack’s room.  I boxed up all the hard cases and tossed the box in the garage.  The OCD only goes so far, people.

Elmo’s on a diet

In case you thought the OCD had worn off, I cleaned the fridge today. I mean, everything out, every surface wiped, scrubbed, or chiseled.

Having food all over the kitchen, must have inspired some imaginative play in Cooper. When I got everything put back together, I went hunting for him. He was in his room with a talking Elmo and all his pretend food. Elmo was babbling away and Cooper was putting food in his mouth. When he spotted me he said, “Elmo chew!”

I sat and watched. After a few minutes I noticed that Cooper was very deliberately dividing the food between Elmo and himself. He was getting all the fruit, sweets, chips, french fries, breads, and hot dogs. Elmo was getting lean meats and vegetables. Elmo’s gonna shed a few pounds.

Back to school jitters

When I was a kid, I never slept the night before back-to-school.  I loved school!  The structured days, the friends, the routine, the teachers, the schedule, the learning, did I mention the structure?  I loved knowing exactly how each day would unfold.  I haven’t outgrown it.

Today is Jack’s first day of 1st grade.  Last night I tossed and turned.  I mentally planned my school mornings from wake-up to Cooper’s nap.  I planned my school afternoons from pick-up to bedtime.  It all felt so right and comfortable.  I finally hit a deep sleep around 3 a.m.

When the alarm went off at 6 a.m., I popped up and bounced to the bathroom.  Then I glanced at myself in the mirror….

Holy Crap!  Who let Tom Petty in my bathroom?

Shit.  That’s my reflection.  Looks like someone should have taken her Tylenol p.m.

Note to self:  Back to school is great and all, but kids don’t appreciate being walked to class by moms who looks like fifty miles of bad road.  Get some sleep tonight.

I’m moving

The blog that is. I’m switching to WordPress. It will take me a few days of messing around to get it up. I’m not tech savvy . The title will still be “I’m really not that busy.” I may post a few more things here before I’m ready to make the move. Just stay tuned.

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