I have a dream ....

I'm feeling pretty special that I named this post in such a positive rainbows and unicorns way.  This is a huge improvement.

Had I written this post a few days ago it would have been titled, "Homocide, a fun sport, you should try it to."

This week has been dark and cloudy with a chance of temper tantrum and tears. Not sure if it's the full moon or my overly full schedule but geez.

Monday was the first day of school for the girl so that alone requires days of planning and prep. I took her to school to get my healthy dose of "stupid practices that waste money" early because I'd missed it all summer.

On Tuesday morning I found the girl's favorite cat dead on the porch just as I was getting her ready for school. I hid that from her until she got home from school. Then we spent the evening painting tombstone rocks.

On Wednesday, Mother Hubbard's cupboard was so bare the girl was seen eating an ice cream cone with no ice cream for an after school snack. She also told me at 6:29 that the parent night at school was starting in one minute. I poured a glass of wine and toasted to those great parents that probably read the flyer on Monday and were neatly perched in their metal folding chairs.

At 8pm the girl stubbed her toe so bad while getting into the shower, she'll likely lose that toe nail. Of course when I told her that, she began sobbing wrapped in a towel in the living room which sent her into an hysterical fit of nakedness on the family room floor.  I did what every good mother does, I started to cry too and told her to just get in the damned shower and we'd deal with it later.

Thursday morning was a frantic dash to get haircuts for Dude and I. Of course, I was on a conference call until 10 minutes past the time we were supposed to leave. We jump in the car and half way there I run down the list of what I told Dude to do before we left. Brush teeth, eat breakfast, take your medicine. He was 0 for 3. So I took the green toothed kid talking 400 mph to get his mullet cut. At least he was wearing pants and shoes.

The girl comes home from school today and says, "The teacher sent home about 40 pages for you to fill out since you missed the meeting." Nice. (Insert what I'm thinking here ^&*^##)

Here it is Thursday night so I decided to live out of my imagination instead of my reality.  That's the kind of stuff I get paid to teach, by the way.

In my imagination, I have a dream....

I dream of a day that I wake up alone, in a house with clean sheets, where outside it is 65 degrees with low humidity. I pull on my running shoes and a cute little running outfit and head out to meet the girls for a nice long run.

I celebrate my running greatness with a frothy little number from 'fourbucks' where I head out with my trendy green logo wrapped in cardboard. I go in search of a little Asian girl that has a perfect chair that vibrates my cares away while I read the latest about JLo and Heidi Montag's surgical woes and hope not to get gang green from my bargain pedicure.

I stop at the grocery and pick up all the necessities for the night, Cheez Its, wine, and anything and everything else that catches my eye and can be wrapped in bread or dipped in sauce.

I arrive at my Pet Hair Palace to find that the Pet Hair Fairy has come and swept away all the Pet Hair to knit sweaters for the homeless.

I take a long bubble bath with wine and more mags and then migrate to the couch for dining and entertainment. I crack open the Cheez Its and flip on the tube to watch David Bromsted's biceps color Miami, and to realize that Sarah actually is coming to my House to do the guest bath downstairs.

With the wine half gone, I turn the channel to find that I miraculously have been blessed by the satellite gods to have every channel known to surfing. I even have those channels with Project Runway and Real Housewives with fake boobs and fake hair and BOTH are marathons for the next 10 hours. I scoop the ice cream to celebrate this greatness and tweet it to my tribe.

I watch three hours past the time I have to hold my eyelids open because I don't want this moment to end.

I wake up to find my family back at home, messing up the house and complaining that I ate all the Cheez Its. I smile ready to face the day, rested and rejuvenated and ready to love all of their unlovableness.

Ahh, what a beautiful dream. 








 

Blast from the past - Journal Archive

I dig journaling. I love it as much as ice cream and puppies. The thrill of a blank page and a great pen gets me all giddy inside.
(My current fav pen is a Sharpie fine point, I've left the house and remembered I forgot my favorite pen and went back for it. Not sure I would have done that for my kids some days. Just Sayin.)

So today I decided to go back and read through some old journal posts.  I often don't remember writing them just a few weeks later (because I'm getting old) and so it's totally new again when I read it. 

I love this post from October 26, 2008

I'm grateful that all of the answers we need are available to us if we have the courage to let go of our own plans and ask Him to lead us and guide us over the bumps and through the valleys that lead us to the better plan, His plan.

I'm grateful for my friend Vickie who sent me this message from a book she is reading,

God's answers to prayers .....

• Yes
• Not Yet
• I have a Better Plan

I'm also grateful that whichever animal threw up, did it on the tile instead of the carpet.

I need a "Did You Mean" translator

You know when you type a search into Google and you screw it up somehow. Either you spell something wrong, or Google is just smarter than you, and it says, "did you mean" and gives you the right answers.

Yea I want that for the rest of my life.

Picture this,

You enter the house and say something to your husband and he immediately becomes defensive and frustrated. No worries, you hit your "did you mean" button and you get a do over.

You say something in a meeting and all of a sudden the room is filled with nothing but blank stares and the sound of crickets. No Problem. You hit the "did you mean' button and everything is fine and your career is back on track.

I tried to simulate it and this is what I got:

It started out looking o.k. -
Look, some poems about a wonderful mother, like me.
Then I realize the Google Ad is for a singles site and the bottom link is an obituary.
I guess the loving wife and wonderful mother gig really is a bunch of crap.
We're all just trying to do the best we can.