Sand, Surf, and All Out Brawling

We've reached that point in summer vacation where the kids are getting on each others' nerves. Where the mere sight of one another causes the other to SPEAK IN ALL CAPS at the injustice that they SHARE THE SAME DWELLING AND OHMYGOD WHY ARE YOU BREATHING SO LOUD!! Consequently, I've reached the point where I have to talk myself down from dealing out backhands across their heads like an old school Italian grandmother. In this house the eye-rolling, heavy sighing, and physical combat has reached a crisis. Where crisis equals mommy is going to lose her everloving mind. I've tried sending them to neutral corners, giving them chores and tasks to complete, and getting them out of the house with family fun adventures. The latter contradicts my responsible parenting belief: never reward negative behavior. Taking them to the beach when they were foaming at the mouth with each other just moments before loading up the car hardly gives them reason to behave properly. I mean, they get the golden ticket either way.

My goal isn't to encourage repeated negative behavior, but rather, to redirect their attention. You know, like with a TODDLER. Except in this case it lead to more fights and bickering with the lovely Pacific ocean as a backdrop. I've never experienced a less relaxing day at the beach. It's also hard to elicit some sympathy from your husband, who's been at work all that day, about your stress-filled day at the beach because, you know, at least YOU WERE AT THE BEACH!

If this keeps up I'll have to threaten them with back to school shopping. At least I'll be shopping.

Great Trip Despite Traveling Woes

During our one hour layover in Cleveland on our way to Richmond from Los Angeles [we flew back through Houston so get your map of the United States out now to pinpoint our hopscotch across this great nation] I texted my sister to sing the praises of Continental Airlines. Check in was a snap and we left on time. We each had our own television screens with Direct TV and at least fifty channels to choose from for only a six dollar swipe of the debit card per seat that made the four hour flight seem like two, I told her. Before I knew it, it was time to board our flight for the quick jaunt to Richmond. My brother and family were waiting for us and after a joyful and tearful reunion, we headed to baggage claim.

And there is where the feeling of dread washed over me. The baggage carriage was at a stand still. Beside it, a few token unclaimed suitcases; none of which were mine. And a uniformed airport official. In his southern drawl he informed me, if it ain't here it ain't makin' it tonight.

Well, damn. I've only had my luggage lost one prior occasion and that was my infamous trip from hell. Where hell equals Florida. It was the trip that whatever could go wrong, did. And at the tail end of that particular trip, I made it home to Los Angeles but my luggage went to Dallas.

Back to our current trip, only this time I'm not alone but with three children. And no luggage. Which apparently didn't make it on the plane back in Los Angeles. [Side note: Dear LAX, I was there two hours early, so, wtf? -end side note] Everything we needed was in our suitcases. The only thing we had in our possession was the backpack we brought on the plane and there wasn't anything in there that was going to help us unless we needed a box of crayons and some Nintendo DSs to brush our teeth with, or wear.

Fortunately, we were staying with family so it wasn't the biggest inconvenience ever. And Continental KNEW where my luggage was and was preparing to deliver it to us the following day. Except that I was wearing jeans. Big whoop, right? Here's the problem. It was about sixty degrees when I left Los Angeles at 7am. And I'm always chilled on the plane.

It was ninety degrees in Richmond, Virginia with about seventy percent humidity. So basically I was in a sauna. Wearing jeans. For two days. And me without my deodorant.

Our first flight back home on Monday was delayed nearly an hour due to thunderstorms in Houston, Texas. I understand that these things cannot be helped. When we finally landed, it was at exactly the precise moment that our connecting flight was to be leaving. Fortunately, the flight was being held, but none of us making that connecting flight to Los Angeles learned this until we'd pulled into the gate. And the gate where our plane awaited was at the furthest point possible from where we presently sat.

The looks from the seated passengers on our connecting flight that had to wait for us said that they were certain I'd flown the plane from Richmond to Houston myself and decided to stop for lunch along the way JUST TO RUIN THEIR DAY.

Oy! My Aching Back

When the lower part of my back first started acting up a few months ago I thought it was menstruation related (men? you're welcome) but that doesn't seem to be the case. Because it comes and goes. Or more like spasms and releases. Heavy on the spasm. I sneezed while driving the kids to school a few weeks ago and threw my back out, pretty much permanently, it seems, because apparently I'm 87 years old. And my back was all, let's see if you can move your foot to the brake? You can do it. Will it to happen. Move your leg and you better hurry because there's a red light at the bottom of this hill. I mean, I already hate sneezing while driving because it is physically impossible to sneeze with ones eyes open (try it some time and let me know how it goes) so you're temporarily blind. And driving. So now you're basically a deadly weapon...and who's in for carpool? But throw a lower back spasm into the mix and now it's: sneeze - close eyes- SCREAM! - navigate vehicle. There's a recipe for disaster [and there's a much overused metaphor that I hate but am blanking for a more suitable substitute].

This new ailment of mine vexes me because I've always been an able-bodied kind of person and not a "back problems" kind o' gal. Except for that one time when I gained 70 pounds during pregnancy and was carrying a 10 pound baby. Yeah, then. But I was fine once all that was off me. And you know what really seems to aggravate it? Bending over, even ever so slightly, like say...putting on my underpants. Or sitting in an upright position, like say, when driving or in a movie theater. Or like on an airplane which I'm about to do tomorrow. I fear when I disembark I will require wheelchair assistance.

Yeah, Um, Good Luck With That

I'm used to getting the email from some con-artist in Zimbabwe or whateverthefook wanting my help in handing over my financial information or...who knows? Whatever. Like this brief message from a few days ago:

I am Shung Hin Hui, I have a business of $15.5 million for you contact me for details.

Whaaa??? For lil' ol' me? Seriously, people who fall for this? Two words: Charles Darwin.


So, I got this in my email today and we're just gonna go ahead and file it under most random wtf email ever, mmmkay?:

Hey dear!
How are you? I hope that all nice for you.
I write to you, because I want to find man from Europe.
My name is Liudmila and I am 29 years old.
I from city Zelenodolsk
And I very beautiful and friendly woman and to search for serious attitudes.
In June I wish to visit the Europe.
But I have no friends in the Europe.
Also it would be fine, if we could have a meeting in your country.
I yet have not decided what country to visit, but it would be fine if you will tell to me more about the country.
In what country you now live? Tell to me more about the country?
It will be great if you will answer to me, so we can to have communication together.
If you will reply to me I will writing to you more about me and send photo of myself.
I want only serious and long relations, I hope you support me in it.
It will be interesting to me to learn that you think of it.

Seriously, I can't make this shit up, people.

I Wonder if I can Order a Clone with One-Click Shopping on Amazon?

All of the end of the school year activities are piling up on each other and when you have more than one child it is inevitable that some of these events will happen on the same day. At the same time. And there is only one you. Boy-Child#1 had his last day of school this past Thursday and all I can say is, thank GAWD. Because, as much fun as these events are, and the frustration stems from logistics, it's frustration nonetheless. I won't bore you with all of the conflicting occasions because, there are and were many, but instead we'll just focus on Tuesday, June 2nd. In the course of this day the following were scheduled:

• 4th Grade Gold Rush Days. An all day affair in which I was scheduled to serve hot dogs from noon to 1pm to four (five?) 4th grade classrooms with about 30 children per class.
• Get Boy-Child#1 to a mandatory dress rehearsal for the entertainment portion of his junior high school team bbq/awards ceremony happening later that evening (originally scheduled sometime the last week of May). This mandatory meeting began at 1pm and ended at 2pm. I didn't get home until 1:30pm.
• Have Boy-Child#2 back at his elementary school by 4:30pm to perform in his class play starting at 4:45pm. Which didn't start until 5pm.
• Have Boy-Child#1 and family at the junior high team bbq/awards ceremony... at 5pm. Also deliver 2 cases of water in an ice chest by 4:45pm.

And because it is a physical impossibility to be in two places at once, here is how the situation unfolded: Boy-Child#1 missed his mandatory rehearsal. Period. We didn't get to the bbq/awards ceremony until 6pm; fifteen minutes before Boy-Child#1 was to take the stage and play The Star Spangled Banner -all Jimmi Hendrix/Slash style on his guitar- for approximately 400 students and their families. This included frantic texting from his friends saying things like, "Dude! Where are you! The teachers are FREAKING OUT!" and "Mrs. So-n-So is mad! Where are you?!?!" -written in text speak, obvs. So I got us there with fifteen minutes to spare and now all I had to do was find a nice strong and willing Dad to give me a hand with the amp -aka The Behemoth- because I would have a stroke if I tried to carry that thing from the car to the stage. I mean, I could do it, but it would take some time. What with all the stopping and resting.

The problem is, I'm quite shy. So I had to find a dad I knew. But I know relatively few dads because of the aforementioned shyness. So I had to find a fellow mom and ask if her husband would be a doll and do me a solid. He did. And for that I thank him.

I was on my own to get it back to the car at the end of the night. And we totally had to pick up dinner AT NINE O'CLOCK because we missed the bbq altogether.

The end.

Dear Jon Favreau, You'll be Happy to Know that Iron Man 2 is Still Playing to Sold Out Theaters

I've been waiting three weeks to see Iron Man 2. I admit that, as a grown woman, I have been a little bit too excited about its release. It was becoming obvious that trying to coordinate everyone's schedule so that we can all go together as a group just wasn't going to come to fruition, so today it was just the kids and I. I just spent $36.50 on the price of movie theater admission and $32.00 on snacks. That is nearly SEVENTY DOLLARS to watch Iron Man 2, only to have it interrupted repeatedly by the preschool aged children that are apparently immersed in some kind of social stunting program. You know the one where the parents don't set boundaries and let their little darlings do whatever the hell they want, no matter how much it might be bothering other people? Those parents give the rest of us a bad name. If your child doesn't have the attention span to sit through a movie in silence LIKE MY CELL PHONE IS REQUIRED TO DO, then escort them to the nearest play area and let them get the wiggles out. Rent it when it becomes available on DVD. Download that shit with video on demand. I don't care how you end up seeing it. What you should be doing is teaching your children that the world is not their oyster when it comes at the expense of other people.

It is parents like that that are raising a generation of self entitled insufferable members of society. It is parents like that that cause any adult boarding a plane with children in tow to be on the business end of the glowering, scowly, frowny-faced looks from other passengers; because the general public doesn't decipher the well-meaning parents from the lackadaisical. We're all guilty until we touchdown on that runway without incident.

When I pay to sit in a sold out theater just three rows from the screen, I didn't do it to watch your daughter dance, or sing, or swing from the hand rail, or explore in general, or talk to the other child or you. I'm sure she's a doll and a sweetheart but she is not at all interested in watching Iron Man 2. I missed key elements of the movie. I had my own children use the bathroom before we took our seats so that I wouldn't have to miss any of the movie by leaving the theater. Nor do I think I should have to by fetching an employee to tell you what the rules of the theater are. And they are this SILENCE IS GOLDEN! So stfu.

It's the End of the School Year. Will that be Debit or Credit?

I don't know about you guys but the end of the school year is killing me. I always forget all the little things that add up to about one car payment. I have approximately, let's see...1, 2, 5, 7...you know what? I've lost count of the stuff that already has been or still needs to be purchased or donated in the next two weeks so let's make us a list right now, shall we? It's gonna be all kinds of super fun I JUST KNOW IT!

1. 8th grade class panorama picture $20.00
2. 8th grade Disneyland graduation trip $80.00
3. 8th grade awards/bbq $24bottles of water to donate$
4. 4th grade Gold Rush Days $An afternoon of my time plus 20 bags of popcorn$
5. 4th grade school play $cowboy hat and vest and maybe a mustache$
6. 1st grade Wizard of Oz play $pink tights and leotard that of course we don't already possess and pink ballet slippers that of course no longer fit my daughter because she's been taking hip hop and hasn't taken a ballet class since last June$
7. Totally not related to the school in any way but the end of softball season is also upon us so $donate cash for team party and also for coach's gift$
8. Girl-Child's dance recital, also not related to school but had to purchase $tickets so that we can attend you know$
9. Plus $her costume$
10. And of course she needs black shoes for it. DAMMIT.
11. Klsjfojdosfosfbw.........
    

Tootsie apologizes for cutting it short but she realized she'll probably have to get a job to cover all of the above since she can't offer her next born as payment since that well was capped years ago.

How Social Networking is Ruining Plotlines and, btw, Who did Shoot JR? I Forget.

I'm not a Lost watcher. In fact, the only television/cable show that I follow regularly nowadays is True Blood. I've never watched an episode of Nip/Tuck, Gossip Girl, Nurse Jackie, Grey's Anatomy or even Dexter which I hear is truly fabulous. And once George Clooney left ER, I mean, what's the point, right? I pretty much checked out of dedicated show watching after The Sopranos and Sex and the City almost simultaneously ended, nearly killing me. I gave it another go with Deadwood and had a stroke when it came to a screeching halt after season three. I mean, kudos to them for ending at their peak and not jumping the shark, but I was in love with it and had to put David Milch straight to the "dead to me" column. I'm still mad with him YOU BASTARD! I was also watching The Office for a few seasons but, in my opinion (spoiler alert if you've never seen it), the magic ended once Pam and Jim finally became a couple. I mean, the anticipation should have been extended a season or two longer. After that it was just a series of super awkward Michael Scott moments.

Way back in the day when we were watching programs like Dallas, Falcon Crest, and Knott's Landing, hell, even Beverly Hills 90210 and Melrose Place THE ORIGINALS PEOPLE! You watched it live unless you taped it on your VCR for your convenient viewing pleasure. There wasn't such a thing as Tivo or DVR and there certainly wasn't the giant big mouths the likes of Twitter or Facebook. God help you if you miss a program during its original air time or if you're on the west coast and have a momentary lapse in judgment and go online. You will know the details and the end before you've had a chance to witness one frame of running time or one line of dialogue. Sure, back in the old days, you might have unintenionally overheard the details over some water cooler talk, but usually if you encountered a friend or co-worker and they say to you "did you watch Melrose Place last night?" you could be all "DON'T SAY A WORD I HAVEN'T SEEN IT YET!!!" and you could still look forward to a good story.

But the Tweeters and Facebookers today...what the hell, guys? Why this need to let everyone know that you're in the know and prove it by LIVE TWEETING/STATUS UPDATING the plotline? There's no reason for me to ever rent the series of Lost. It would be like buying a book after someone has already spilled the delicious ending for me. Why. Bother. Even Yahoo News couldn't wait to tell me who won The Celebrity Apprentice.

Dear Internet: SHUT UP!

Now I Just Need to Buy a Tan because I Hate to Sweat

Once upon a time, in another life, one where I had a job outside the home, no children, and had things like co-workers...I had one such co-worker who really admired my sense of style, which is complimentary [Dear Tootsie: two words - shorter sentences]. The downside to that was we would often have the same clothes. Worse, she really liked the perfumes I wore and would buy them. Then take a bath in Coco Chanel, Estee Lauder's Beautiful and White Linen, Clinique's Happy, and dozens of others. To the point I could barely stand the scent of them at all, switch to something new, only to encounter the same predicament over and over. I never said anything because, whatever, I don't own the perfume market and people are free to wear what they want. But it bugged the ever-lovin' out of me nonetheless. Because of that experience I try very hard not to mimic anyone's style sense too closely. At least not in their presence. Heh.

Cut to yesterday, bathing suit shopping at the local Target with Sisters Number One and Number Two. Sister Number Two was lamenting how she'd found a suit there that she REALLY LIKED LIKE A WHOLE LOT but the bottoms were a little too, you know, big (i.e. mommish) for her taste. Once I saw the suit I knew what she meant. And I could see why she REALLY LIKED IT LIKE A WHOLE LOT because it was super cute. I could also see why she wasn't a fan of the bottoms because she's more of a string bikini kind of gal and when you're eighteen and built with an ass you can serve tea on - all perky, high, and tight - you don't want to cover all that up. Unlike yours truly whose ass has lost its tone and has evolved into a lot of loose skin that has pulled away from the muscle DAMN YOUS A SEXY BETCH!

She encourages me to try it on because, hell, someone might as well have it! So I take it and one additional suit into the dressing room right behind Sister Number One who has about twelve bathing suits in her rotation -because when you're twenty one and all slim and perfect a body that isn't covered in the potholes from pregnancy EVERY bathing suit looks good on you and it just becomes a matter of which one to spend your hard earned money on especially when they only charge you for the bottoms, riiiiightt Sister Number One? WIN!! - I don't need to tell any of you what a royal pain in the ass it is to find a suit that works for you and you usually just end up settling for the one that looks the least worst. Just ask my bottom dresser drawer...it is lousy with them. But turn me upside down and paint me blue! BOTH bathing suits that I tried on were totally perfect! Except that they're both halter top style that tie around the neck and will probably give me rope burns on my super prominent collar bones, btw, thanks mom for that and while I'm at it the little pocket of fat above my elbows I. am. you.

The bathing suit that Sister Number Two may borrow anytime she wants because I totally stole it from her:




And the back-up:

April Showers Bring BOSSY

Bossy was in town for her (No)Book Tour to promote the book she didn't write. And thanks be to Bossy for driving cross country to bring people together! Several bloggers, of the mommy variety and otherwise, gathered at a little restaurant in Encino to get to know each other outside of our respective blogs. Due to babysitting snafus and a softball practice we did not attend, I arrived about an hour late with Girl-Child in tow, and happy to see many familiar faces from Bossy's Excellent Road Trip two years ago.

(And here would be the picture to, you know, represent (**pounds fist to chest and gives peace sign to the sky**), if someone had bothered to pull her camera out of her bag even just once during the evening, but she didn't because she figured Bossy would take plenty and then someone could just link to Bossy because her pictures are better anyway)

Once we all had our fill of appetizers, Bossy had us go around the table and tell a little something about what makes us, us. Or perhaps tell something surprising about ourselves that we wouldn't know about the other just from reading blogs. PRESSURE!

Aunt Snow from Doves Today took the lead and holymotherofgod she was a hard act to follow. I mean, it's not like I'd ever up and joined the circus -and no I'm not kidding THAT is what we had to follow and WHO LET HER GO FIRST? That's no opening act! That's the main attraction! And since I was so busy being engrossed in her anecdote, and that of Smacksy who was next, I didn't have anything prepared to say about myself. Now, of course, with several days to think about it, I've come up with ...well I still haven't. I tripped over my words and wondered if I got even half of a story out. I started off talking about how I grew up in a small town suburb of Los Angeles and then somehow ended up telling about how I met my husband and then I felt like I'd been talking for too long and then just kind of brought the whole thing to a screeching halt. Then the next guest started speaking and I'm sitting there going, wtf, Tootsie? Did you say ANYTHING? Certainly not anything surprising about myself or anything anyone who reads my blog wouldn't already know. I think it's safe to say that I can scratch "writing my memoirs" off my list of things to accomplish before I bite the dust.

Gonna Need a Price Check on that, Herb

When I am shopping, I have this amazingly annoying ability to grab the one item that does not contain a price tag. I can pick up two of one item, compare, decide which one I want and put the one WITH THE PRICE back on the shelf. Depending on where I shop, this can be a problem. Some retailers know their merchandise and it's absolutely not an inconvenience to the people standing in line behind me because the clerk does not miss a beat in ringing me up. Then there are those other stores where the cashier expects the customer to know exactly how much each item in their shopping cart costs.

For instance today. I had a handful of stuffs and the ten items or less aisle was clear. The scanning of said items was moving along quite nicely, albeit slowly, until the plastic container used to transport liquids made it into the cashiers hot little hands. That's when everything came to a screeching halt. "There's no price", she says - out loud. But the look on her face indicated that this was a problem with which I was to deal.

I know it's hard to determine from this blog but I'm normally an easy going kinda gal. But this was the ten items or less lane and I had ten minutes to finish up this bullpucky and pick up my kid from school. -And I was already mad about the fact that it was raining on my car the one I just got washed yesterday and that the hem of my pants and up to my ankles were soaked I do not like to be wet. Put Tootsie in wet clothes and you get one cranky Tootsie- So I says to the lady, okay well it's like a dollar-sixty-seven or something. Because believe it or not I did not memorize the exact price of everything I decided to buy, shocker, I know right?

Perhaps I should have stated the price with some authority...It's A DOLLAR SIXTY SEVEN! and left out the "like" and the "or something" because then she was all, we're going to have to check. Really? REALLY? It's not like I was trying to make off with a Blu Ray player for a buck sixty seven! It was a little plastic container, not quite Rubbermaid but graduated from Ziplock. For this she was going to hold up the express lane as long as I was willing to play along. And who was this "we" to which she refers? I don't work there. Does she think I'm going to run to the back of the store for a buck sixty seven? ohmygod-no.

You know what? She didn't want me to either. She was willing to lose that sale than have to find out the price...or BELIEVE THE WORDS THAT WERE COMING OUT OF MY MOUTH. I know this because the rest of my items weren't allowed to be rung up until I blinked in this stare off. She stood there. Staring at me. Holding the item up for my review. Daring me.

Forget it, I don't want it. I tell her. I think I saw a slow small smile creep across her face. And I swear to GAWD I heard someone in line behind me heave a sigh of relief. And to that dude, you're welcome because I totally could have been that customer.

I've Got a Fat Secret

In the weeks leading up to Thanksgiving I shed a few pounds to get some room to play around with. You know, play, fun games like eating several helpings of juicy turkey and sucking the gravy from your mashed potato volcano, and extra marshmallows on your yams, and a generous serving of cranberry sauce in the shape of the can from which it came...and pumpkin pie for dessert- then again before you go to bed - then for breakfast. What? It so does go with coffee.

Before you know it it's March and you're still on the field, in the zone, and the coach hasn't benched you in months. When you look in the mirror you exclaim "Holy Muffin Top, Batman!" and you can't exactly use "the holidays" as an excuse anymore. You pull yourself aside and have a meeting about overindulgence and how it's time to knock it off and design a plan to get it together WOMAN! You're not twenty anymore, Ms. Farklepants! You can't just skip a couple of dinners and lose five pounds and be fabulous in those pants. Not. At. All.

I'm a late afternoon snacker. I adore the salty snacks during those pre-dinner hours. And this just will not do. So I decided to start documenting everything I eat and to help keep track I joined Fat Secret. I enter all the foods I've eaten for the day; breakfast, lunch, dinner, snacks and wine, gin, vodka, rum other. When you have to enter your intake it really makes you think twice about what you put in your mouth. Stop it. Stop it right now. Yes, you too.

I've been trying to keep my daily calorie total between 1200 and 1400, and I've been doing a pretty good job of sticking to that number except for the recent trip to Las Vegas this past weekend to celebrate my sister's twenty-first birthday which I'm not going to elaborate on but suffice it to say that the night included me doing this:



And that's all I'm going to say about that because: self explanatory. Needless to say, about 3000 calories were consumed in one evening and when I got on the scale Monday morning, after two weeks of due diligence I lost a whopping....ONE POUND. Clearly, what happens in Vegas...stays on your ass.