Mental housekeeping with ADD......

So today I'm doing a little mental housekeeping, a tidying up of sorts... (and also hoping to rid the dresser top of some of a large collection of pictures that have gathered there.)

"Leave em" I tell Daddio "I have a plan for them".

(Never mind that I've left them for almost a year now.)

They are threatening to have grown to pile status and yes, the pile has started to slide off every time anyone brushes by.

Which could lead to Daddio having an apoplexy attack.

And we try to avoid that at all costs.

A family portrait....

(They're creepy and they're kooky, mysterious and spooky,they're all together ooky......)

I wasn't really that much taller than the rest, I had on 5 inch high platform heels.

Mom...found these in your collection of family pics....just letting you know you may have unknowingly contributed to society going to shit....

Kid with gun (and a Natural Born Killer's Juliette Lewis look-a-like sidekick).

Is that a cigarette in his hand?

Chewbacca's nest?

(Have you ever seen so much freakin hair?)

Are those not the neatest white boots you've ever seen?

Daddio was a freakin azz fashion plate back in the day wasn't he?

Moooooooooom, how could you?

My best friend's mom did her the same way....at least she didn't look like she was wearing a nazi war helmet.

Speaking of my oldest and dearest bestest friend....

Joyceeeee.... yes, as it appears and is certainly true I did steal this picture off of your school file when I worked (for about five minutes) as an office aide. I want you to know, I never (well maybe just once) planned to use it as blackmail. You know the fact that you were blonde, stunningly beautiful and had huge boobs never really made me all that jealous, seriously, not really too jealous, well, maybe a wee bit jealous.

x0x0x0x0x0x0

The best (twilight) sleep she ever had.....

Googie has been suffering from some stomach problems and was advised to get a colonoscopy. Yesterday was the big day. Both of us were dreading the prep done the night before the procedure. As we expected she almost didn't make it through.

She tossed out at least two cups of the laxative laden Gatorade, pleading ....."no more".

She was sooooo green, I had to agree.

In the morning we didn't speak too much on the way to the surgery center, I did reach my hand over the seat a few times to hold her hand.

When we got to the front desk to check in Googie was carded..."you are 18, right?" the desk clerk asked.

At 4'11" and 90 pounds Googie fools lots of people.

It didn't take long for a nurse to come and get her to take her in back to change into a gown and have a quick interview with the doctor who would be doping her up.

He commented, jokingly "all of 90 pounds, huh? Won't take much to put you under."

When the prep nurse came to get Daddio and I she apologized in advance for hurting our girl.

"Her veins are so small, and she is so dehydrated it took me three tries to get her IV in. I ended up having to get one of the docs to do it" she explained.

Googie was being a good sport.  I knew she had to be hurting, I could see swelling and bruising on her little hands.

"She's a trooper" said the nurse.

Yeah, this kid who had refused to swallow a pill until she was 20 was surprising us all.

We had a lot of time to joke around in the room waiting for them to come and get Googie and after more than an hour with empty stomachs (in support of Googie) and frazzled nerves Daddio and I began to snipe at each other.

Seinfeld character George Constanza's parents or Everybody Loves Raymond's Marie and Frank Barone quickly come to mind.

"Your mother is a know it all" he informs Goog.

"If she were in that bed she wouldn't need the doctor to put her to sleep" Shecky Green joked "she wouldn't even need the nurses to push her down the hall, her arms would reach around back and she would even carry her own IV pole, while pushing pulling herself (and the bed) along the wall, with one arm".....

(Arrrghhhhh shut up you idiot.)

They finally came to take her away and fifteen kisses later my girl was being wheeled down the long hall and Daddio and I were ushered back to the waiting room.

"See you soon" the nurses said.

My legs shook, and bounced and were restless.

And I asked Daddio at least ten times if 15 minutes had passed yet.

After the 10th time he said "relax, it hasn't been that long".

I started watching the door like an expectant father in the old movies....every time it looked like someone was walking out I sat forward in my seat.

Finally, they came for us.

I tried to read the nurses face, to see if Googie was okay.

"How is she" I asked.

"Ohhhh, she's enjoying her anesthesia" was her response.

Daddio and I walked into the room and Googie was slumped sideways on her hospital pillow, her eyes tightly closed and a grin from ear to ear.

It was obvious that Googie was not only fifty sheets to the wind, she was loaded and stoned.

Her antics had Daddio and I cracking up. The nurse was laughing too.

With her eyes closed she'd use her IV heavy hand to search the tray for a cookie, she'd finally locate one, bring it to her mouth take a bite and then forget to chew.

"GOOGIE!!! You are gonna choke. Sit up and chew" I ordered.

She just giggled.

And waved her arms in the air, making circles with both wrists.

"I luuuuuuuv this stuff" she slurred.

The Ellen show was on in the background and when Ellen started talking about people who were graduating Googie took the message personal and started her little fist pumping.

Up and down she pumped.

Then she started waving only one hand and when I asked her what she was doing she replied "conducting".

The dope doctor came in to check on his pint sized patient. She was laughing pretty hard when he came in and when he asked her "how ya doin?"

She answered "YOU tell me!!!!" then giggled.

"Ohhhhhhh boy" the Candy Man said.

"This is just like a regular Saturday night!!!!" Googie yelled.

 "She doesn't drink, honestly she doesn't" I truthfully said, trying to clear Party Time Charlie's name.

The nurse told us to take it slow getting her dressed.

Daddio said he'd go warm up the car and pull it around front to pick us up when we were ready.

I helped Googie's underwear onto her feet and she came around enough to pull them up. Then came her yoga pants. When she had them pulled over her hips she kicked off the blankets and spread her legs widely side to side. If she were on the floor she would have been doing the splits.

"GOOGIE!!! What are the heck are you doin???" I asked.

"Stretchin mom, I'm stretchin".

She slap happily staggered to the waiting wheel chair and on the way down the hall she had a few more words to say to nurses getting in our way.

"Excuse us" one said politely, pushing another patient by.

"NOOOO EXCUSE US!!!!" Googie yelled.

The nurses looked knowingly at each other and laughed.

Googie came home and slept off the rest of her high.

Ohhh, a couple more things before I end my story......

1. Googie's colon is sparkling healthy.

2. God is Good!!!!!

3. And Googie now knows she can fly, minus wings.

Ohhhh boy!!!

Trumped......

There are two days I look very forward to each year, Mother's Day and my birthday.

I promise you it has nothing at all to do with gifts.

These special "all about me days" are the perfect excuse for me to sit on my can and do nothing (except what I want to do) all day long.

This year Mother's Day and Daddio's birthday decided to fall on the same day.

So I asked a panel of experts (a couple of other moms) who should trump who???

Who should get breakfast in bed and a back rub nice enough for its memory to get them through till next year?

Who should be crowned King or Queen for the day???

Any and all long suffering mothers reading this blog already know very well the answer.

Damititalltohell..........  :-(

Daddio's birthday trumped Mother's Day.

I'm not sure if he sees it that way though.

Daddio had a gig on Saturday night and while a mass consumption of doctored up Diet Pepsi(s) had him feeling no pain then, it appeared it was going to have the opposite effect on him this morning, and possibly linger the whole day long.

"I can't eat in bed" Daddio said as I tried to convince him to sit up and fluff the pillows behind him.

"I'm just not that kind of guy" he insisted when I attempted to sit a tray filled with breakfast on his lap.

Let me clarify that, he's not the kind of guy who eats from a tray in bed...but he does eat in bed, a lot.

I've rolled in mustard blobs and cracker crumbs.

Grape jelly and hunks of bread.

I even woke up in the middle of the night once to an intense smell of lettuce.

So strong was the smell that I was forced to get up and flip on the hall light.

You can only imagine my shock when I saw an entire soft taco (minus one bite) laying face up on my flat fitted sheet.

Taco meat, cheese, lettuce and sauce littered my bed.

Seems Bear had called to let us know he was stopping at Taco Bell on his way home. Daddio had sleepily answered the call and said "sure" when Bear offered to bring him something.

Like a good son Bear loaded up the taco with sauce just the way Daddio likes, he carried it upstairs, and planted it right in his sleeping father's waiting hand.

That he is alive to celebrate any more birthdays says something of my love for him.

Happy Birthday to my darling Daddio, I'm sorry that while you trumped me, the senior mothers trumped you and we had to spend your birthday on the road visiting and eating dinner in strange places.

Please know that I love you like no other and that you fill my life with so many wonderful things for which I am eternally grateful....including, but not limited to, fodder for this blog.

xoxoxox

Mommy....

The agency where I work becomes a ghost town nearly every Friday. Most of the programs finish up on Thursdays and Fridays are to either catch up on paperwork or flex out if one has reached their maximum hours for that pay period.

This past Friday was no exception. When I got to work around one thirty the place was nearly empty. I ran into my boss as he was leaving. We talked for a minute and then he remembered that he needed something out of the locked kitchen. We hunted down the chef (who usually never works past noon on Fridays) to get a key, and together we walked down the long, deserted hallway.

Just as we went through a set of heavy double doors we saw a little tiny boy toddling toward us. Although none of us spoke this thought, we all were expecting to see a mommy (or a big sister or brother) round the corner behind the fast walking child. The gap between us was closing and it quickly became apparent that there was not anyone with this baby.

The small brown haired boy clutched a tattered blue waffle blanket which he held up against his cheek. He barely looked at us as he started to pass us by.

This was a man on a mission.

 "Hey" I called out to him "Are you looking for Mommy”?

He little head bobbed up and down.

“I can help you find her” I said, hoping to reassure him.

I held out my hand. He looked down at it and then up at me. His big round brown eyes starting to pool.

“Can I hold your hand?” I asked.

He shook his head no.

“Well” I said, “you are right to say no. You shouldn’t hold hands with a stranger”.

My boss and the chef took off in different directions looking for Mommy. I walked with the boy down the center hallway of the building.

“Do you know your Mommy’s name?” I asked.

“Uh-huh” he said quietly, shaking his head up and down.

“What is it?” I asked. “What is your mommy’s name?"

“It’s Mommy”, he said with a lisp.

“Why of course” I said, “Your mommy’s name is Mommy”.

Just then one of the doors of the gym swung open hard and behind it was my boss and a very worried looking man.

“Daddy” the boy yelled.

Daddy explained that he was a volunteer painting the gym. He brought his young son with him and when the boy got tired he laid him down for a nap on one of the little cots and got to work. The group of volunteers were listening to music and talking while they painted. Daddy said that when he glanced over at the cot to check on his sleeping baby he discovered the boy was gone. Daddy had been all over the building looking for the little explorer. He'd run back to the gym to see if he'd been found, just as my boss was in there asking if anyone was missing a baby.

I never thought to teach my kids my name. I guess I just assumed that they knew what it was.

This story is for all of you who go by the name Mommy.

Random firings...(Whatta a week, and it's only hump day)

Some randomness for this wonderful Wednesday....

It's been quite a wacky week so far.

Daddio YOU are the man..... (like he says, "just ask me")

It's been written (and is widely known) that Daddio is a man of many talents. He undertakes big projects. And does an amazingly good job at them.

He impresses the crap outta me that he can watch almost anything once and then do it well himself.

He watched me color other people's hair a couple of times and does mine on request. He makes less of a mess and gives a better shampoo than most of the seasoned hairdressers that I know.

I both love and hate this about him.

On Monday night I came home to find this on the garage floor,

Daddio's decided to rebuild our house.

He's not letting the fact that he doesn't know how to do masonry work deter him.

This is the side of the garage. Part of a big fence (that was attached to this) decided to blow down one day breaking some of the mortar that held the brick in place.

Daddio fretted over this each and every time we pulled into the driveway.

Telling me that this kind of crap left unattended was a loud and clear message to our neighbors that we were hillbillies.

Kroger....Our on again, off again, may be on again....

Daddio loves vinegar and oil.  As I was passing by my favorite (not) grocery store I remembered I needed a few things, including some kind of dressing for the man. I decided to suck it up and go where it was convenient, good ol Krogers...there I picked up the bottle below.

DELISH.....(and only a buck on sale).

Okay, I guess I don't need to wonder anymore

why my pants are all getting too tight

This is the coffee cake the loveables and I made in school yesterday. This morning, half of each large piece eaten.

I tried blaming everyone else for this piggish behavior but the four forks laying in the sink...and the lipstick left behind on each one of them advised me otherwise.

Every picture tells a story, don't it????

The photographs below can be simply titled "Looking at me".

                                                              

Enjoy this day....

And please, do come tomorrow back.

Bark at the moon...part duex

I knew it, I just knew Daddio was wrong when he answered no to my question "is the moon full?"

People act weird when the moon is full, myself included.

I drift into other lanes on the highway.

I forget words.

Except four letter ones.

Which I spit outta my mouth like discarded sunflower seed husks.

And it's all because I'm so aggravated at....um, well, everything.

And it appears as if the entire human race has joined me.

It's like the whole world has pms and dementia combined.

Full moons have me channeling late comedian George Carlin on the highway when I scream at anyone going slower than me calling them "assholes" and anyone daring to go faster is certainly a "maniac".

Its a no win situation.

The only one driving properly is, well, actually none of us.

Then while making dinner, I cut myself.

When I run to the garage with a dish cloth tightly wrapped around my bleeding finger Daddio bellows "What did I tell ya? I knew this was gonna happen. You think you are some kind of fancy chef tossing those big knives around..I told you...I TOLD YOU.."

(Just for the record, Daddio has been predicting this exact tragic event for over 27 years, every time I cook and he watches.)

I've done a bit of predicting myself over the years buddy...Predictions like  "one-a deeze days Alice...POW to da Moon"....

And speaking of POWS to somebody's kisser.....

As Googie was getting ready to leave the house she leaned in to kiss me goodbye.

She's famous for presenting a cheek for a peck...I often follow suit and we'll give a kiss-kiss in the air like debutantes or old Italians.

Today she decided to give me a real peck on my cheek.

And I decided to give her a real peck on her cheek.

At the same time we puckered up and turned toward each other...

SMACK....right on the old kissers.

"EWWWWWWWWWWWW" we screamed in unison, then wiped our mouths.

It's not everyday your daughter tries to French kiss you.... 
 
That damn crazy ass full moon.....
 
(PS...I later sent Googie a text message saying "I kissed a girl and I liked it", I'm sure she read it whilst driving and drifted into the next lane calling the guy she almost sideswiped an asshole.)
 
When da moon hits da sky like a big pizza pie dat'ssssssssssssssss amore.
 
 

This stunningly beautiful photo shamelessly stolen borrowed from this website....Nick Honachefski of CourierPostOnline(dot)com. (Thank you sir..I hope I don't owe you any flow, cause at the moment I'm quite broke.)

Butterflies, daffodils, lip gloss and a chess playing beaver....

Well howdy do der, it's Monday and if I recall I promised that if you tuned back in on Monday I would share with you my nightmare.

I've always been a big dreamer, a daydreamer mostly.

I'm quite sure that is why I wasn't the greatest of students.

Every report card from my youth said basically the same thing, Elizabeth likes to talk and daydream. She could and should be doing better.

Who cares about times tables or nouns when there are butterflies soaring and daffodils dancing right outside your classroom window?

Or in junior high, an interesting hairdo or lip gloss shade to try and dissect, sitting right in front of you????

Not me, that's for sure.

The dreams of my slumber are not nearly as calming or enchanting.

I'll never admit to being so whacked out that I dream about watching Abe Lincoln and a big beaver play chess...(ever see that commerical???)

So I'll say I mostly dream about real stuff.

Like this.......

Frozen with fear, a deer in the headlights.

I'm trapped like an animal in a cage.

Unable to escape.

The anticipation of the wait makes me squirm and I try to sink down low, low enough to be out of sight.

I wish to slip off my seat onto the floor where I can slither like a snake against the wall until I reach the door.

Then disappear completely and forever.

Out of the corner of my eye I see him preparing.

Blue gloves covering his hands, he's holding instruments of torture.

There is no turning back.

This man has hurt me before, plenty of times.

And I hate him.

My heart beats in my mouth and in my stomach, adrenalin is cursing through my veins like a speeding train threatening to blow through my fingers, which are tingling and trying to disappear into my sweaty palms.

I feel my nails making gouges in my skin, and for a second wonder why I let them get so long.

The self inflicted pain, I control.

The other, about to come, is his to control.

My chest is almost heaving, my breaths so rapid.

I try to quiet myself so my fear isn’t noticed.

I close my eyes and begin a Hail Mary.

“Open wide” the doctor says.

When I'm done he attempts to give me something to take my mind off the abuse.

A  new purple toothbrush and a clean bill of dental health.

That's hardly worth the year of my life I lost anticipating, through nightmares, my visit with him.

Five and a half months from now the nightmare begins again.....