I woke up at 5:30 to a kiss from my husband. “Happy Birthday, Mama.” He said, as he caressed my butt cheek. He can’t help it. He loves my butt so much. I said thank you and went back to sleep. At 6:15, The Teenager woke up to get ready for school. Normally, I’d be up and working already. But it’s my birthday, so I took the day off. He walked over and said “Happy Birthday, Mom.” And then, he kissed me on the forehead. It was the most precious thing, because he’s very reserved with his emotions. So the unexpected kiss got me RIGHT HERE in the heart. As he walked away, I thanked him and then I cried. BECAUSE MY SON KISSED ME ON THE FOREHEAD. Ethan and Gabby woke up shortly after and both wished me a happy birthday. Ethan’s wish came with a hug and a “let’s go out to dinner!” Gabby’s came with a beautiful handmade card that said “RRSW Y AHAFFAB” Which she explained means “Happy Birthday, Mom. You’re the best Mom in the world and I love you so so so so so so so so so much.”
I only told you that story so that you would know that’s “It’s my birthday today!”
Normally, I don’t like to make a fuss out of my birthday. I don’t walk around drawing attention to it. I’m not all “hey, everyone! It’s my birthday!” But when someone pointed out that this year my birthday falls on 09.09.09, I went All Nerd and was like “I’M GOING TO TELL EVERYONE IT’S MY BIRTHDAY!” because 09.09.09 is awesome.
So, guess what, everyone? It’s my birthday!
A few people have asked me if I’m doing anything special and the answer is no. Not today. I love my husband, but he’s The Worst at Planning Things For My Birthday. For instance, he just called me right now and goes “so, what do you want for your birthday? I need to know so I can take the boys after school to get you something.” That’s pretty much my birthday every single year. And every single year I’m like “why did you wait til the last minute to get me a present” and every single year his answer is “I ran out of time yesterday.” Because, you know, the day before the birthday is THE ONLY DAY OUT OF THE ENTIRE YEAR that he can go shopping for my birthday present. It’s not a big deal though, really. I stopped crying and being sad about it around the 8th year of our marriage. I just accepted that was how it’s going to be. And I started reciprocating. This year, I drove to Target the day of his birthday and bought him a CD and was all “Happy Birthday!”
We’re good at marriage.
So. Yeah. It’s my birthday. And there’s really nothing else to say about that. Except that I think you should write me a poem.
No. Seriously. You should.
I’d like to give a shout out…
I’ve been neglecting my blog again.
Not purposely. Just overwhelmed with work, kids, LAUNDRY. You know, life.
Until I have a few minutes where I can sit down and concentrate on writing, I think you should go read the blogs that I am currently in love with.
Sesame Ellis– (My photography hero.)
Oh Joy (preeeetty things)
Mommy Melee (because I appreciate good writing.)
Better Now (Beautiful woman, beautiful soul. Oh and Beautiful boyfriend. OMG.)
Bonus: Because you need to laugh…
videogum
I hope you visit at least one of these blogs and man, it sure would be nice if you left a comment. Everyone loves comments.
Letters
I walked past her room to put a load of laundry in the washer.
She was sitting at her desk, writing something on a piece of paper. She had a Very Serious Look on her face as her hand moved quickly across the paper.
It’s not uncommon for her to sit quietly at her desk and write things or color. But I could tell that was she was doing was important. I walked into her room, knelt down by her desk.
“What are you writing, Mija?”
“I’m writing a letter to Opa, even though I know he’s already dead.”
Even though it’s been 10 months since he died, it still feels like a punch to the gut to hear the words spoken out loud. He’s dead. My Grandpa is dead..
“What does the letter say?” I asked.
She looked directly in my eyes and said “thank you for loving me while you were alive, Opa.”
I was speechless. One of the things that I worried most about after he died was that she would forget him. That she would grow up not knowing how much he loved and adored her. I didn’t worry about my boys, they are old enough to remember. They had so many more years with him than she did. They KNOW without a shadow of a doubt how much he loved that and what an amazing man he was. I am grateful for that. But I was sure she’d forget him, being only 4 years old when he passed.
That little girl hasn’t forgotten her Opa. She still thinks about him, she misses him. But more importantly, she still knows that her Opa loved her. And oh my God, did he ever love her.
He loved us all. We were incredibly blessed to have his love for he was truly the most wonderful man.
Her letter to him gives me hope that even though he is gone, he will ALWAYS be wonderful in the eyes of my children.
Hosed
On Thursday night, I was supposed to go to LA for Stefanie’s book signing event. (Speaking of her book, have you bought it yet? It’s hilarious and you will love it. You really should go buy it.
I’ll be honest. I wasn’t looking forward to driving out to LA. But then, I never look forward to driving into LA. The traffic, the assholes. The paying for parking. However, pretty much everything that is worth going to is in LA, so as much as I hate driving out there, I will always do it. Especially to support a friend.
I chose to dress just a little bit fancy. Black pants. White blouse. Pretty red pumps. I accented with a new black necklace and earrings. (That I bought at 40%, plus an additional 20% markdown with a coupon! At Kohls! That right there is some FANCY for you.) I took a little extra time on hair and makeup. Since Stefanie stopped drinking, she’s become really judgmental about looks, so I wanted to look to extra nice for her. SOBERS!
As I was walking out the door, I have to be honest. I was feeling good about the way that I looked. Not in a “I look so hot” way. Just a “I sure aint hating the way I look” way. That never happens to me. It felt kind of awesome.
I realized as soon as I started the car that I wouldn’t have enough gas to make it to LA, so I had to stop on the way to fill up. I knew there was a gas station about 20 minutes out that I could stop out that wouldn’t take me out of the way.
As I waited for the tank to fill up, I noticed that my car was FILTHY. So filthy that my son had decided to scrawl his name across the back window. Normally, a dirty car doesn’t bother me much. I just tell people “I have THREE KIDS! I don’t have time to wash my car!” Or something lame like that. It drives my husband crazy. But not crazy enough to wash it for me, apparently. (Not entirely true. Every 6 months or so, he’ll become disgusted with my car, tear it apart and give it a good cleaning. I promise him every time that I’m going to “keep it clean from now on every single day!” but that never happens. I HAVE THREE KIDS!) Anyway, as the gas was pumping, I went looking for one of those squeegee things that people clean their windows with as they pump gas. I found one right next to me. I was going to step over the hose to get to the back of the car, but it was just a little too high. So, I had the MOST BRILLIANT IDEA EVER. I would lift the hose up, the way you do when you’re cutting in line at Disneyland, do you know what I mean? I thought I’d lift it up, and crawl underneath the hose that was PUMPING GASOLINE INTO MY CAR.
As soon as I lifted the hose and ducked down, the hose came out of the tank and BEGAN SQUIRTING ME ALL OVER MY BODY! Like a hose!
I hadn’t even considered that the hose coming out of the tank when I pulled on it. WHOOPS!
I screamed “OH MY GOD!” Because I had just been hosed down with gasoline! No one came over to help. I imagine they were too busy pointing and laughing, like “HA HA! U tried to duck under the hose that was pumping ur gas! U lose at life!”
I froze for a minute, expecting my entire body to burst into flames, because, you know, I WAS DOUSED IN GASOLINE. My hair, my neck, my my shirt, my pants, my shoes. Once I realized I wasn’t burning up (YET!) I jumped in my car, picked up my cell phone and called Lena.
“You’re not going to believe what just happened to me!” She was all “What?” And I was all “ha ha ha ha gasoline ha haa ahha all over my body ha ha ha hahaa GAS!” She goes “Y, I can’t understand you. Are you okay? What happened.”
I took a breathe, afraid to breathe TOO hard because WHAT IF MY WARM BREATHE CREATED HEAT, WHICH CREATED A SPARK, WHICH WOULD MAKE ME BURST INTO FLAMES?”
I told her what happened and she was like “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of that happening to anyone.” And I was all “I bet it hasn’t.”
We laughed and then I almost cried because I couldn’t go to the event after all. I told Lena I thought about still driving out there and she was all “that’s not a good idea considering you’re HIGHLY FLAMMABLE.”
We laughed some more.
Then, she says “don’t change the channels on the radio and Oh! You shouldn’t be on the cell phone!” And I went exactly like this “okay. Bye.” and hung up on her.
The ride home was terrifying. I wanted to roll my windows down because the smell was so awful, but I was honestly terrified of igniting into flames. I thought of someone someone accidentally throwing a match into my car. Or someone tossing their cigarette out of the car only for it to land in my lap. So I kept the windows up until I started to get lightheaded from the fumes. Then I’d open the windows for a quick second and roll them back up again.
The 20 minute ride felt like 2 hours.
I got home and within 5 seconds my husband could smell the gasoline. He did laugh a little and say things like “wouldn’t have made more sense to just walk around the other side of the car?” But mostly, he was just glad that I was safe. I had to wash my hair exactly 6 times to get the smell out. Clothes were put through the laundry twice. Shoes still smell like gas.
And that is the story of how I doused myself in gasoline and almost died while trying to support a friend.
As @SaracasticMomLC said on Twitter, thank God I wasn’t drinking an Orange Mocha Frappuccino.
I not fat, I’m energy deficient.
My daughter has started questioning the fact that men can just walk around with their shirts off.
She’s not a big fan of The Naked Man Chest. Every time she sees a man jogging without a shirt, she’ll say something like “Mom, that man needs to put his shirt back on! It’s so gross!”
Tonight, while out for an evening walk, she saw a man running without a shirt. I must admit, this man’s chest was MADE for running without a shirt. Because HELLO CHISELED ABS. Whoa, got a little distracted there. What was I talking about? Oh, yes, my daughter and her disgust of shirtless men.
“Mom! Do you see that man running?”
Trying to pretend like I hadn’t noticed him before she pointed him out, I was all “Man? What man? Oh! now I see him!”
“He doesn’t have a shirt on!” She said.
Seeing an opportunity to tease G a bit, my husband jumped in on the conversation before I had a chance to reply.
“I think I’ll take MY shirt off, just like that man.”
“Dad.” She replied, all desperate like. “PLEASE! Don’t take your shirt off! Your chest needs more energy before you can let people see it.”
We both fell down dead from laughter right there.
She said “More Energy” you guys.
She’s the best.
.Five.
700 views. 37 comments. 27 favorites.
And yet this photo didn’t make explore.
You’re dead to me, Flickr.
Bonus: More of my favorites from Chicago (Which I am in love with because it is beautiful.)
WWJD?(IJHAFBA?)
Remember when I wrote the post about my husband finally joining facebook? And remember how I joked that I was going to make his profile picture a .gif that said “I love my wife” to keep the old skanks from his past away?
Well, this morning I logged into his facebook account to see if he had any new friend requests (before you get all “why are you logging into HIS account? How dare you be all up in his business!” you have to know that he never logs in, so every once in a while, I check for him and tell him who had sent friend requests. I’m not secretly logging into his account. I have his blessing.) ANYWAY. The first thing that pops up is a picture of His Jesus Loving Ugly Faced ex-girlfriend.
She requested to be his friend on facebook.
But she didn’t stop there! Oh no! She sent him a message. In her message, she was all “OMG! Your son is so handsome. How many kids do you have? I’m doing SO GOOD. God has been good to me. blahblahblah Oh, I tried to find your wife but couldn’t.”
I felt the raaaaaaaaage sweep over my entire body because how dare she. And also she’s baaack.
I don’t know if I’ve ever written about the hell she put me through in our first year of marriage or not. But I will sum it up here in case I haven’t.
I knew this girl since I was about 10 years old. Her family went to our church. Then she rebelled, moved out to her grandparents, which is where she met and dated my husband. They dated for a few years, then they broke up and Tony started going to our church with her mother. She found out about it and started coming to church too, just to keep an eye on him. Even though they weren’t together. She was a possessive bitch that way. She met a new man and they got engaged. She was SURE Tony was going to be devastated, because, you know, she such a catch. But he wasn’t. He was like “I wish you the best!” It was during her engagement that I met and begin to fall in love with Tony. Before that point, he was all “D’s dorky boyfriend” but the more I got to know him, the sexier he became to me and well, I wanted to marry him and have his babies.” She asked him and I to sing in her wedding, not knowing that we were falling in love. She found out shortly after when I told her I thought Tony was going to propose to me. She was all “WHAT?” And I was all “Yeah, we’re in love. We’re going to get married.” And she was all “Oh, that’s great.” But what she meant was “HOW DARE HE FALL IN LOVE WITH ANOTHER WOMAN SO SOON HE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE DEPRESSED ABOUT ME NOT MARRYING HIM FOR THE REST OF HIS LIFE.” We got married and she proceeded to make my life hell by doing things like calling my house asking to talk to Tony. Telling people they had dated and how hard it was for ME because, you know, they had sex. Calling her husband “Tony” and then saying “Oh, it’s so hard to not get the names mixed up when you’ve been with someone for so long.” and finally, mailing a 2 page letter to our house addressed only to Tony that said things like “I wish you would forgive me, let bygones be bygones.” And “I wish we could talk again and hang out together, but that would just be too awkward for our spouses, because, you know, WE SLEPT TOGETHER.” Tony never responded and the next time I saw her she was all “Did Tony get my email?” And I was all “Yeah, we got it and we read it and we laughed at it.” And she was all “Why would you laugh? I poured my heart out in that letter!” And I was all “Oh, I don’t know, because YOU’RE MARRIED WITH KIDS AND YOU REALLY NEED TO GET OVER IT AND LEAVE HIM ALONE NOW?” She started sobbing because “I was so mean to her! She was just trying to clear the air!” But everyone knew her tears were because my husband would not give her the time of day and it killed her.
Shortly after that, she moved away to Colorado. I’ve always thought it was at her husband’s suggestion, because of the fact she couldn’t stop trying to get my husband to pay attention to her.
I regret the way that I acted then. I wish I had never let her get to me. I wish I had been secure in the fact that my husband was madly, deeply, passionately in love with me. And in the fact that she had a kid (and gained a ton of weight and I was young, thin and had big, perky boobs) and we were child free and could go wherever we wanted, whenever we wanted and that we were having sex 4 times a day and she most likely wasn’t. But, I was young (19 years old) immature and completely, totally insecure about the fact that they had Sessual Relations.
I’m older and wiser now. I don’t have any jealousy regarding her or the fact that she contacted him. But I do have anger that the minute she gets on facebook, she looks my husband up, sends him a message and pretends like she can’t find me and that’s why she’s contacting him. I’m angry that at 42 years old, she still is thinking about my husband and trying to get her Jesus Loving Ugly Face in our business.
I called Tony the minute I saw her friend request. He wasn’t too happy about it either. He was like “What the hell is wrong with her? Why did she contact me?” And I was all “Oh, I don’t know, she’s a bitch?” And then I was all “Can I write her back and tell her to go eff herself?” And he was all “Go ahead, I don’t care.”
I had a really great email composed in my head. I would send it as Tony, because if I responded, she’d most likely think I was jealous or that I had intercepted her message before Tony had seen it. And the more I thought about it, the less right it felt. It was really up to him how to respond, or if he was going to respond at all. So, I didn’t say anything. I logged out of his account and told him he could handle it. (FYI, he told me to hit ignore on her request. Booyah!)
I feel like I have to respond in some way though. Like, not saying anything is letting her get away with something. So, here’s my plan. I want to friend her myself and then send her a polite note that said “Heard you were looking for me but couldn’t find me. what’s up?”
That way a) she’d know that Tony saw her message b) she’d know that he purposely ignored her b) she’d know that I KNOW without coming across like a jealous bitch. Or something. I don’t know anymore. I’m totally confused at this point. I don’t want to feed into her drama, but at the same time, I guess I kind of do. So, this is where you come in. If you were me, what would YOU do?
Turns out, letting The Internet judge your fashion choices is great fun!
Me: You’re not going to believe this. I bought pajamas with teapots on them because they were the only ones in my size.
Her: Wait, with WHAT on them?
Me: Teapots.
Her: I hope you said “Tupac!”
Me: NO! Not Tupac! TEAPOTS.
Her: Yvonne, did you say PEACOCKS?
Me: (unable to breathe) TEAPOTS, LENA, TEAPOTS.
Her: Whatever they are, I bet they’re pretty.
(they’re not)
So, yes. I bought teapot pajamas. And like my daughter just said “Wow, those are kind of dumb because there’s not even any tea to pour in the cups.”
I shouldn’t be allowed to shop for myself, you guys.
HELP A MOTHER OUT IN ALL CAPS BECAUSE…O.M.G TEENAGERS!
I need your help, Internet.
In just a few short hours my son (The Teenager) will be boarding a plane, headed for Mexico City. (sob) We’re having an argument right now and I KNOW THAT I AM RIGHT ON THIS. I need your help because The Son thinks I’m crazy and is like “MOM YOU JUST DON’T UNDERSTAND!”
He’s taking his guitar with him. He can’t take the guitar as carry on, so he will check it in. I am telling him that he should NOT take his very new, very expensive (to us) guitar because THEY WILL THROW IT AROUND AND NOT TREAT IT VERY NICELY AND I CAN NOT AFFORD TO SPEND ANOTHER $500 TO BUY YOU A NEW GUITAR. I’m all “just take your old one, that way you don’t possibly damage the new one.” And he’s all “but MOM! The old one sounds TERRIBLE!” And I’m all “I understand that, but your new one will sound terrible too IF IT IS BROKEN DUE TO BEING THROWN AROUND WITH ALL OF THE OTHER LUGGAGE!” And he’s all “MOM! You’re too paranoid! Nothing is going to happen to it!” And I’m all “I WILL NOT LET YOU GO ON THIS TRIP IF YOU DO NOT STOP ARGUING WITH ME!” (Obviously, I am SHOUTING A LOT TODAY BECAUSE WHY DON’T TEENAGERS LISTEN TO THEIR PARENTS?)
Here is where you come in. If you have ever had an experience of luggage being damaged, or, you know, your guitar being broken by an airlines (It would be so awesome if someone did have a story like that to tell!) I beg of you to leave a comment here for my son to read. Even if you’ve not had that experience, will you please tell him that HE SHOULD LISTEN TO HIS MOTHER BECAUSE I AM RIGHT?
Thank you.
this post will self destruct the minute he agrees to take the old guitar. Thank you in advance for your help.