The Polite Phase is Over

Okay, so when Tom and I were first reunited after being apart for a little over two months we were in a polite phase. I mean, Tom even was holding the car doors for me and that rarely happens! He startled me when he first did it. I went to open the door and he shrieked, "STOP!" and I thought there was a bug or a freaky Texas animal near me so I started bouncing up and down in shock.

"I'm just opening the door for you," Tom said calmly, craning around my convulsing body and pulling open the door.

Oh.

See, Tom and I were able to have an overnight date while my parents watched the kids. We were extra polite then as well.

"Where do you want to eat?" I asked in a businesslike voice.

"Wherever you want." Tom's voice echoed my tone.

Normally I'd be all, "I have a hankering for beans so let's go to Taco Bell."

Or Tom would say, "I want Wendys."

We danced around figuring out what we wanted to eat. In the end we decided on The Rainforest Cafe which is in downtown Texas. His Mom actually came in that day. Her original plan was to watch Tom graduate but then they moved up his graduation so she never made it for that. But she still wanted to see him and see the grandchildren.

Tom startled me again when he pulled out my chair at the restaurant. I thought he was going to sit down in the seat that I was about to settle down in so I moved over and he went, "No. I'm pulling this out for you."

I even got Tom to watch The Proposal which would have NEVER happened had we not been apart. Usually he makes fun of chick flicks and makes barfing noises if I mention one. But that night he went, "Yeah, I'll see it."

I bought our tickets before he could change his mind.

It was a good movie. Tom even laughed. I tried to convince him to watch My Sister's Keeper next but he bluntly told me not to press my luck.

Then we went back to his room and I wanted to shower. I needed to shave my legs because they were starting to get prickly. I stepped in the shower and I pulled out my razor and cream and...

...Tom walked in and plopped on the toilet and stared.

Um.

"Hi," I said brightly even though I really wanted to ask him what in God's name he was doing perched on the pot watching me.

"Hi," he replied.

There was a silence. I stood there as the water dripped off of me. One leg was covered with the cream and my hand had been poised over it with the shaver ready to go.

"I need to shave," I explained even though it was obvious what I was about to do.

"Go ahead." Tom made a motion for me to continue with his hand. "I just wanted to watch."

Erm.

"I'm just shaving. Nothing fancy," I said. Please leave...please don't watch me shave!

"That's okay," Tom said calmly.

So I cleared my throat and figured I ought to try and look sexy while shaving. Normally I quickly run the shaver across my legs but that's not attractive. I tried to think back to the countless movies that I watched where the female character shaved in a sexy fashion in front of a guy. Surely there was a movie where that happened? But nothing appeared in my mind. All I kept thinking was, "My husband is watching me get rid of my leg hair."

But...surely I could look sexy. It couldn't be THAT hard. So I fluttered my eyelashes at Tom and tried to re-position my leg in a sexier fashion. Then I started to shave slowly as I batted my eyelashes at my husband who was starting to look a little bewildered. Then his expression turned to disgusted. What? What did I do? Was I not being sexy?

"I think you're bleeding," Tom pointed out and gestured to my ankle that now was dripping with blood.

Crap!

I've been shaving for more than ten years and I STILL manage to cut myself.

"Oh!" I said and pushed my leg under the water. I winced as it stung but I tried to make it seem like it wasn't a big deal that I had totally mutilated myself while trying to be sexy.

"You okay?" Tom still looked horrified. His nose was wrinkled but his mouth was still curved upwards with a forced smile.

"I'm...great!" I lied even though my cut hurt a little bit.

"You know...maybe I'll wait out there for you," Tom said and rushed from the bathroom.

I think he was worried that I'd gash open my other leg.

I didn't thank goodness.

When I was finished Tom and I had our moment and then we went to bed.

Fast forward a few days.

To Monday, when we went to Sea World. Before that we were still holding an overly polite facade.

But then on Monday my patience was wearing thin because I was rushing around trying to get the kids ready and Tom was just sitting on the couch watching Spongebob.

I practically ran past him as I struggled to get Natalie in her ultra adorable dress with the matching sandals and hair pretties.

"Will you be ready to leave in ten minutes?" Tom asked, his eyes still on the television screen. Spongebob was apparently having issues with tying his shoe.

"I'm not sure," I said in a strained voice. I was still clad in my pajamas with my hair sticking out all over the place on top of my head.

"I hope so," Tom said calmly. Then he stood up and I thought he might ask if I needed help but instead he strolled in the bathroom.

Five minutes went by and I realized he was having a PIP (Poop in Peace) and anger started bubbling in my stomach. Why does HE get a PIP when I'm trying to get everything ready at once? So before I knew what was happening I marched to the bathroom door and banged on it.

"If you think you're having a PIP while I get these children ready on my own then you have another thing coming. Plus, I have to get into that bathroom to do my hair and now it's going to smell like something DIED in there!" I yelled.

Tom emerged about a minute later. He tossed me a dirty look as he wordlessly handed Tommy his shoes.

"I don't know why YOU'RE upset," I fumed as I dug in my purse and made sure that I had my wallet.

"Oh, I don't know," Tom said, his voice thin. "Maybe because my WIFE is being extremely rude."

"I'm being rude?" I replied indignantly. "I'm trying to get everyone ready and you're just SITTING there not asking if I needed help--"

"If you need help then ASK for it!" Tom boomed.

So yeah. Polite phase was OVER. And Tom didn't open the door for me when we left either.

We had another mini fight on the way to Sea World because Tom didn't know exactly where to go.

"Do I get off on this exit?" Tom asked me.

"I don't know," I answered.

"How can you NOT know?" he wondered, his hands gripping the wheel.

"Erm..because I DON'T know. I asked you if you knew where to go before we left and you said yes. If you had said no then I'd have looked it up but you SAID--" I started.

"Nevermind. I'll figure it out by myself," Tom said angrily.

SeaWorld was fun at least. We eventually made it there. We got in free because Tom is in the military--FYI, all military members get in free and can get up to 4 extra tickets free.

Tom and I were too afraid to ride the Steel Eel which is this giant roller coaster that didn't look safe to me.

But Tommy, Tommy wanted to go on it. Thankfully Tom's cousin is also visiting so she offered to take him.

I'm a total wimp when it comes to rides. Plus I have ride tourettes which means I curse when I'm on the fast ones. Seriously. I'm all "Oh f--- I'm going to DIE, oh s--- this ride doesn't look SAFE!" I don't even MEAN to say it, it just comes out.

I thought Tommy might be afraid.

But no.

He strolled off the ride as if it were nothing and then shrieked, "That was AWESOME!"

My seven-year-old is braver than I am.

I have pictures but those will have to wait until I get home next Thursday.

I hope everyone is doing well. I may not be able to reply to the notes but I am reading them all!

Tomorrow we're going to a giant mall. *Dances* I'm thrilled that we'll be in an air conditioned building...

Anyone Need A Man?

I'm hiding.

From my husband.

I'm kidding.

Sort of.

It's just...he always wants to, you know, do it.

And okay, it was fun the first few times but now I miss being able to go to bed and not having to worry about having someone paw at me.

Like last night I had to get firm with him, which I hated to do, but I was exhausted and my parent's A/C is on the fritz so it was hot and there was my husband stroking my butt.

"It's hot and I'm tired," I mumbled at him.

His hand didn't move. I think he said something like, "I'll cool you off," which makes no sense to me but a horny guy will say just about anything to get into your pants. Word to the wise.

He follows me into rooms too. Like today I was going to the bathroom to PEE and then there he was behind me. He scared the crap out of me to be honest. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised because I usually have one of my kids following me in but at that point they were being entertained by my parents so I took advantage of a kid free pee. (A KFP. Sort of like the chicken but with a P.) I was practically giddy as I headed for the toilet-- you mean I get to pee--ALONE?? and I nearly had a heart attack when I went to shut the door and Tom was right there.

"Now that we're alone..." he said coyly, wiggling his eyebrows up and down.

I mean...seriously? With the kids running around less than ten feet away? With my parents right there?

Oh, and let's not forget that I had a FULL BLADDER!

I don't like to pee in front of my husband either.

"Um," I said, racking my brain of how I could deny him politely. Because we were still somewhat in the polite stage at that point since we had been apart for awhile. If he had followed me in any other time I'd have probably told him to get the crap out of the bathroom and slammed the door in his face. But because I hadn't seen him in a little over two months I forced a smile and said, "I'd really like my privacy. I don't get it often and I could really use some."

Tom still stood there and was staring at my crotch. It was still covered but it was like he was WAITING for me to get rid of my pants or something.

"So...I'm going to need you to go..." I trailed off and tried to shove him out. But he's got nearly a hundred pounds on me so he didn't budge.

"Bye bye now," I tried again.

WHY WASN'T HE LEAVING????

"I'm not peeing in front of you," I said meekly.

"Oh, I'm not in here to watch you pee," Tom reminded me suggestively.

Geez.

Don't get me wrong, I'm flattered. But it's HOT here and I get cranky when it's hot. To have someone constantly pawing at me is not always enjoyable. It's like, dude, mind my space. It's HOT. Do you see the sweat beads above my lip? That's because I'm trying not to melt on the sidewalk.

"Tom, I really need to pee. I need you to leave," I said and pointed towards the door.

Then he tried to kiss me and at that point my bladder was UNCOMFORTABLE because it's not what it used to be after having two kids. When I need to go, I need to GO.

So I sort of HAD to push Tom out because I was worried I was going to pee all over the floor and how would I have explained that to my parents?

Mom, Dad? Sorry about the urine on the floor. My husband was trying to seduce me...

And then Tom would forever tell the story of how I totally pissed on the floor.

So I didn't have a choice on pushing him out. Of course he said sadly on the other side of the door, "You don't love me anymore," because as I said before, he can act like a total girl when he doesn't get what he wants.

When I was finished doing my business I went to get some water and he was right behind me.

"Jesus!" I shrieked.

"Hi," he said and grazed my boob.

Does anyone want to entertain Tom for a few hours? Please? Because I'm about to head off to bed and he just walked by and said something like, "You're mine tonight," and it's still hot and I'm half asleep and I already know I'm not going to get good sleep because I have to get used to sharing my bed again. And Tom is very shifty. Last night he tossed his big old man leg on top of my waist and snored in my face.

Help me!

My Husband Has Graduated

Okay, so at the moment my parent's air conditioning doesn't work. And we're in Texas. Where it's been 100 degrees.

If I were in my own home I'd be tempted to walk around in the buff.

Anyhow, in my previous entry I left off at the point when my husband surprised me by being at the airport. For those who don't know he's been at military dog training school in Texas for a little over two months. I came out to watch him graduate. My parents luckily live nearby so the plan was that my Mom was just going to pick me up since Tom had class the next day.

But then there he was. Standing there in uniform with a sheepish look on his face.

I was glad to see him of course. But I was sort of hoping that I'd look, I don't know, less scary when he first saw me for the first time after two months. Because at that point after traveling by myself with two kids I looked frightening. My hair was all over the place, I smelled like airplane and I'm pretty sure I had dried crackers on my legs.

Of course I always hope for a movie reunion--you know, where the man and woman run to each other and the man scoops the woman up and twirls her around?

Instead Tom and I walked towards one another and I nearly tripped because my foot got caught on the wheel of Natalie's stroller that I was pushing. So I sort of fell into his shoulder and got a mouth full of his uniform.

"Hi," Tom said into my airplane hair.

"Hdkl," I replied because my mouth was still twisted around his arm.

Then Natalie gazed up at Tom and became shy. "Dad? Daddy?" she said timidly.

"Hi Daddy," Tommy said easily as though he hadn't been gone for so long.

I pulled away and took a good look at my husband. He looked basically the same only his face was obviously darker than before thanks to the Texas heat.

I imagine Tom took a good look at me and hopefully pretended he didn't see the smeared cracker on my knee and the knots that were in my hair.

"I drove as fast as I could to get here," Tom said. "My class just got out...oh...about fifteen minutes ago."

Well. See. I suppose that's SORT OF a movie theater reunion. I pictured him on the highway sitting in his red truck swerving around cars and shouting, "Move people! I've got to get to my WIFE!" in a dramatic voice.

"I'm glad you're here," I said and hugged him again. Because it was true. I had missed him.

My Mom came over and gave us all a hug and we headed out to her car. Tom had decided to come back with us and stay for dinner--mind you, the base is about 40 minutes away from my parent's house but he wanted to spend time with us.

So we drove over to my parent's house and Tom helped me carry my stuff into the bedroom. Then he pulled me to him and we kissed.

"I missed you," he said.

"I missed YOU," I replied.

We smiled up at each other and it would have been a poignant moment. But then Natalie rushed in and attached herself to Tom's leg.

"MY Daddy," she said and tossed me a stern look.

We had Chinese food for dinner and it was delicious. I'm a huge fan of Chinese food. Then Tom had to get back to the base because he graduated the next morning.

We all showed up for his graduation the next day. I think we were the only family members there to be honest. Mainly because it's a real quick ordeal. But I wanted to be there. I had told Tom that when his name was called that I'd be all, "WOOHOO!"

"If you do that, I want a divorce," Tom replied. I'm not sure if he was joking or not.

When we first walked into the room one of Tom's classmates took a good look at us and went, "Hey Tom. I saw your family. Hooah."

Um.

Is Hooah a good thing or a bad thing? I THINK it's a good thing. I mean, he sounded pleased. I was tempted to tap him on the shoulder and be all, "Excuse me, sir? But when you went 'hooah' was that a compliment or was that a polite way of saying that my hair is scary and that I have no business wearing shorts in public?"

I didn't ask.

When the ceremony began there was an officer who got up front and started to ramble on about America being a wonderful country and how our soldiers were fantastic people and how they took pride in their country and..

Well, to be honest, I half expected him to break out into song. He seriously was THAT passionate.

If he were in a Disney movie he'd have definately started dancing along the walls and singing about how beautiful our flag was.

Then he shouted something and all the members of the military dog training school jumped up in unison with their hands clenched tightly at their sides.

It frightened me to be honest.

Everything was so serious.

In fact, I had asked Tom what his teacher had told him when he got his certification to be a dog trainer and he was all, "My teacher told me good job and to get out of his sight."

Oh. Well.

The military sure is FRIENDLY....

I'd have wanted to be praised and such. If I were told to get out of someone's sight I think I'd cry.

Anyhow, the class member's names were called and one by one they took their award and then shook a bunch of people's hands. When Tom's name was called I really wanted to go, "WOOHOO!" but it didn't seem appropriate. Plus Tom's instructer looked a little strict and I was worried that he'd shout at me to drop down and give him twenty. So I bit my tongue.

Then there were 3 top awards. There was an award for the Block One portion of the class which was the very beginning. Some dude with really pointy ears won that.

Then there was an award for Block Two. I didn't think much of it. I mean, I know my husband is a good soldier but I guess I sort of regard him of how he is at home. Which is sort of like a slob. I know he doesn't act like that at work but in my mind he totally leaves his dirty socks on his desk and he scratches his butt in front of people.

So when his name was called for the top student in the Block Two portion my jaw dropped open.

Really?

My husband?

Well of COURSE my husband. He's a fantastic soldier, didn't you know?

It was SO HARD not to go, "Woohoo!" at that point. Instead I clapped extra hard.

I wanted Tom to turn around in his seat and flash me a thumbs up sign. But that wouldn't have been appropriate because they were still all serious up there.

There was one more award for the student with the best test scores and pointy eared guy won that one.

Oh well.

Afterwards the class had to jump up with their hands at their sides until the instructor said they were dismissed. Then they were free to go.

"At this point we should go up front and shake all the class member's hands," Mom said seriously.

Um. What?

Sometimes she forgets that she's not a Colonel anymore.

I've never shook a bunch of stranger's hands. I've told them good job but if I stuck my hand out I think I'd SCARE them.

"Go on. Shake hands," Mom hissed at me as she boldly walked up to other students and flashed her hand forward. "Good job," she said in her Colonel voice that I grew up with.

I didn't shake hands. That would have been too weird. Instead I just told them good luck as I made my way to my husband.

"Daddy!" Natalie called out. She practically leaped out of my arms and into his.

"Congrats on your award, Tom," I said and gave him a hug. No kiss because he's always paranoid about PDA when he's in uniform. I wanted to play the part of doting wife so I stuck my arm out and shook Tom's bewildered hand.

"What are you doing?" he whispered to me.

"Telling you that you did a fantastic job," I said. Then I leaned over and said softly, "You have no idea how hard it is for me not go be going woohoo and clicking my heels in excitement."

"I'm glad you restrained yourself," Tom whispered back.

So yes. My husband now has his certificate to be a military dog trainer.

This means we might be moving from the base we're currently at.

We're hoping for either Texas or Ohio. But Tom says that there is a chance that we could get Andrews AFB which is in Maryland. He could possibly have missions as security for the President if he got that one. Wouldn't it be cool if the President were giving a speech and you could see my husband in the background? I'd be all, "BLOGGERS! You see that bald man in the very back? That's my man!"

We shall see, I guess.

The Trip to Texas..

Well, I made it.

I'm here in Texas and I'm trying not to melt.

Obviously I knew it was hot here. But holy heck it is HOT. I came from Wyoming where it was just getting into the 80s. I am now in a state where it is 100 degrees.

My body is confused. It's all "WTF?"

But let me back up a bit. We took a shuttle to the airport that reeked of cigarette smoke. When we got to the airport my husband Tom texted me and asked what time my flight arrived.

See, I wasn't planning on really seeing Tom until the next day. Mainly because he's about 40 minutes from my parents house and he had to wake up early the next morning for his class graduation. So it just made sense for him to stay on the base. Plus he could save on gas, which his truck totally guzzles down.

I didn't think much of it when I called Tom back with my flight information. I just thought he was curious on when I'd get to Texas.

Anyhow, we managed to get through security and found our gate. We found a seat and this is when the fun began. Natalie didn't want to sit. She wanted to run around and play. I said no. She screamed. So it was no wonder why we had an entire row of chairs to ourselves--no one wanted to brave a risk of going deaf thanks to my daughter. There was a woman who sat down for all of five minutes but then Natalie screeched because one of her crayons broke--the woman immediately got up after that.

"I'm sorry," I told her. "She's two."

Finally it was time to board the plane. We got our seats and Natalie took great offense over the seat belt. I have no idea why. The second I buckled it she threw a fit and I firmly told her it was staying on. As I was struggling with her I felt eyes on me and realized this old woman sitting across the aisle was watching us intently. It was like we were her own personal entertainment. Like I'd tell Natalie that she WAS going to wear a seatbelt and Natalie would go, "NO!" and the lady would suck in her breath as though she were watching a soap opera or something. Then when I finally got Natalie to wear her seatbelt (it took 2 chocolates) the lady muttered, "It's on! It's on!"

Yeah. Seriously weird.

And she watched us most of the time. When the plane took off the lady eyed us and whispered, "Kids don't mind takeoff."

Then I put on a DVD for the kids and they mercifully got quiet. I was able to take out my magazine and read all about Sandra Bullock and how she met Jesse James. I swear the lady was trying to read over my shoulder. I heard her say, "Sandra Bullock was funny in Miss Congeniality." I'm not sure if I was supposed to respond or not.

I got to an article on orgasms and practically shoved the magazine against my nose so the lady wouldn't see. I didn't even WANT to know her comment on that one.

When we were about to land I had to put Natalie's seatbelt on again because she had wiggled out of it in flight. She took offense again and I swear the lady rubbed her hands in anticipation and mumbled, "Here we go."

Natalie threw a mini fit and the flight attendant came by and went, "That needs to be on."

"No crap!" I snapped and I swear I usually don't speak to people like that but at that point I had been fighting with her for about five minutes and my brow was sweaty and my mouth was dry because I was thirsty and I was nervous that we were going to crash because the plane started lurching funny.

The flight attendant who was in her early twenties and looked as though she were starved--she was TINY--shot me an evil look before flouncing off down the aisle.

I got Natalie's seat belt on by telling her that Brobee from Yo Gabba Gabba was VERY angry and she stopped crying and allowed me to buckle her in.

"What's a Brobee?" creepy staring lady said softly.

Seriously. Was I supposed to talk to her?

I figured I should say something so I went, "Brobee is a character from Yo Gabba Gabba.." and the lady tossed me a bewildered look as though she wanted to say, "Why is she TALKING to me?"

Okay then. I needed OFF the plane. The lady officially had made me nervous.

But first we had to land and I swear, it didn't seem like it was a graceful land because we just DROPPED a few times and my stomach leaped out of my chest and I was gripping the armrests in fear. My kids weren't scared though. They kept going, "Weeee!" and I was thinking, "I should have ordered the jack and coke when beverages were rolling around.." Because seriously, I debated it but I was worried the flight attendant would shoot me a dirty look for drinking spirits in front of the children. So I just got a ginger ale.

Finally we touched down and I was tempted to kiss the ground. I didn't though. You know, germs and all. Oh, and people would probably think I was insane.

We headed towards the exit and rounded the corner and we spotted my Mom...

...with Tom!

TOM!

Could it be that my husband actually DOES have a romantic bone in his body?

(To be continued tomorrow. Don't have as much time on the computer here.)

I'm Texas Bound

I fly to Texas tomorrow.

I’m nervous.

I hate to fly.

I hate to pack.

Tom called me when I was in the middle of packing. I was surrounded by clothes and snack foods to take on the plane and various entertainment items to whip out if the kids lose their minds.

“You ready?” he asked.

I stared at the mess that circled me. “Erm...kind of...” I lied.

“Remember, you don’t need much,” Tom reminded me.

Poor confused Tom. What’s this business about NOT NEEDING MUCH? I tapped my chin as I gazed at different outfits for Natalie. Of course I had to bring the cutest clothes to show her off in.

“I just need to find a way to fit Natalie’s zoo outfit...” I muttered. I didn’t mean for Tom to overhear but he did.

“Excuse me? Did you just say a ZOO outfit?” he said incredulously.

Crap.

“You know,” I said casually. “The outfit she’s going to wear for the zoo. It’s a giraffe print skirt with a monkey top.”

Is that not normal? Don’t people put their kids in clothes in accordance to where they are going?

I guess it’s not normal. Because Tom went, “Amber. Natalie doesn’t NEED a zoo outfit. She can wear anything. No one will care.”

Okay fine, so no one will care. But I like putting them in cute outfits. It’s a sickness. Some women are obsessed with shoes. Some women go crazy in Sephora. I go crazy for clothes for my children.

“The zoo outfit is coming,” I said stubbornly. I managed to shove it into the bag.

Did I mention that when my Mom was visiting that she took a suitcase of clothes for us back with her so I wouldn’t have to worry about checking anything in? I think I put 5 outfits each for us in there. Tom claims that this is enough and that we can just re-wash the outfits when we run out since we’re staying for two weeks.

“WHAT?” I shrieked when he mentioned this.

My poor husband is deranged. Re-wash only FIVE outfits? No way.

I poked around at the stuff in front of me. I needed to get rid of some of it.

“Do you care if I smell like a peach?” I asked Tom as I fingered my lotion.

“HUH?” Tom boomed.

It really is fun confusing my husband on a daily basis. I took that as a no and threw the lotion across the room.

Okay. One thing down….about twenty more to go…

“I’m not bringing my sexy underwear,” I told Tom as I touched the black lacy material.

“Why?” Tom wondered, crestfallen. He always makes fun of the cotton underwear that I usually have on.

“Um because Tom, I’m not going to be standing there in the security line as they go through my luggage and look at me as though I’m a complete hussy when thongs show up on their screen,” I explained.

“At this point Amber, I really don’t care what you wear,” Tom said bluntly. He’s seriously been behaving like a horny teenager these past few weeks.

To be perfect honest, I’m more excited about going out without the kids. Mom is going to take them overnight on Friday so Tom and I can spend time together. His Mom and two other family members are coming down so we’ll be going on the Riverwalk and eating a nice meal—do you know how thrilling it is to not have to cut up someone else’s meat? To be able to dive into your food RIGHT WHEN IT ARRIVES?

“Aren’t you excited about going out with the kids?” I keep saying to Tom.

“I’m more excited about getting into your pants,” Tom always answers.

If he had his way we’d just stay in the hotel room the entire time.

Of course I miss Tom IN THAT WAY….but after been stuck with two children who climb all over you and basically make a gigantic mess on a daily basis, I’m not really in a sexual mood.

I just want to get OUT.

“Are you excited about going to the Riverwalk?” I asked Tom as I tried to shove a bunch of things in my backpack.

“You know what I’m excited about,” Tom replied in a suggestive manner.

Oh for---geez.

“Well, I’m excited about going to the Riverwalk without the kids. I don’t have to worry about one of them jumping into the river,” I said as I struggled to zip the backpack.

“But don’t you miss....us?” Tom said in a sad voice. I’m sorry, but sometimes my husband acts like a total GIRL. What he wanted me to say was, “Yes Tom. All I want to do is bow chicka bow bow all night long. To hell with Riverwalk and enjoying a meal in peace and seeing a movie afterwards.” But I’m not going to say this. Because I need to get out. My sanity depends on it.

The good news is, I finally managed to get everything to fit in my bag. Of course my backpack probably weighs like 20 pounds but you know, I could use the exercise. I can pretend like I’m on some mountain expedition or something.

I should still be able to blog while I’m there. I’m bringing Pepto, my pink laptop. Oh my God. PEPTO. I nearly forgot Pepto. Thank goodness I thought about it.

Okay, don’t panic, but I have no room left. Where or where is Pepto going to GO? I wonder if I can stuff her in my son’s backpack? Hrm…surely he doesn’t need ALL those Transformers…

*Five minutes later*

Okay, apparently my son DOES need all those Transformers. I asked if he could hold my laptop and take out a few because one boy does NOT need 3 different versions of Bumblebee but he was all, “MOMMY! I NEED those!”

I need to go figure this out now.

Wish me luck.

Unexpected Chocolate

First of all, thank you for the birthday wishes.

I had a good birthday.

For starters, when I woke up I noticed there was a blimp in the sky and got all excited.



How romantic! Tom paid for a blimp to pass by the house with a birthday message!

Have I mentioned that my mind isn't all there when I first wake up?

Obviously it wasn't a romantic blimp. It was just a military blimp I guess.

Still, I was determined to have a good birthday.

When the kids started fighting I calmly said, "You can't fight. It's my birthday."

There was a knock on the door at around 11. My heart swelled at first.

Maybe it IS a romantic blimp after all!

I opened the door and there was a woman in a FedEx uniform holding a box.

Okay. So no romantic blimp--but a package! I'd settle for a package. I love getting mail.

I noticed that the package was wrapped with tape that said Godiva.

CHOCOLATE!

"CHOCOLATE!" I screeched and made the poor woman jump. Her eyes widened and she looked at me as though I had just told her that I wasn't wearing any panties. I took the box and thanked her and she rushed off in fear.

Oops.

But I couldn't help it. Chocolate excites me.

I immediately opened the package when I got inside. I wasn't sure who it was from. My husband? No, my husband isn't romantic. His idea of romance is letting me turn off his beloved military channel. Was it from my best friend Jennifer? She used to work at Godiva and maybe she still had connections....but...Jennifer already gave me a $25 gift card to Gymboree and she's not exactly swimming in money.

So...

Maybe I had a secret admirer. Yes! Oh my God, what if John Krasinski or Michael Phelps stumbled onto my blog and became enamored by me and sent me a box full of chocolate as a birthday gift?

How SWEET!

I searched the box for a card:



..and I found it wedged under the box of truffles. TRUFFLES!



Okay, so it was from my parents. But still. How nice of them! It was totally unexpected.



Look what I got! I immediately opened the truffles and ate three of them.

"Can I have one?" Tommy asked.

"Er...these chocolates are for adults only," I lied. I gave him a Hershey's Kiss instead. He looked a little annoyed with me but hello, these are Godiva truffles. They are not to be wasted on children.

I ended up eating most of the chocolates in about two hours. I couldn't help myself. I'd eat one and say, "Okay, this is enough, I need to make them last.." but then a few minutes later I'd be back hovering over the box and I'd be all, "It's my birthday...if I want another truffle then I'm going to have another truffle!"

I decided to order pizza for dinner because it's against the law to cook on your birthday. I was a little full from consuming all that chocolate but there is always room for pizza. Especially pizza from Papa Johns:



And I thought, you know, it's my birthday and there are no such things as calories on my birthday so I might as well order cheesesticks too:



I am in love with Papa John's garlic butter sauce. I think it's supposed to be for the crust but I dip the entire pizza in it.

If you thought I'd be full from that, well, you're mistaken.

Because then it was time for cake.



Yum.

After the kids went to bed my house looked like this:



This is because I refused to clean on my birthday.

Because cleaning is forbidden on your birthday too. Didn't you know?

Birthday Shopping

It’s my birthday.

So I went shopping.

I decided to head to Barnes and Noble first. I think I could spend an entire day in Barnes and Noble. When I walked through the doors I breathed in that familiar coffee smell and started perusing the new books.

This is the life....standing in Barnes and Noble, surrounded by books and...oh my God, look at that cheesecake in the display case at the bakery. I MUST try that cheesecake. Okay, so I have cake at home but not chocolate CHEESEcake. Plus, it’s my birthday and there are no such things as calories on birthdays. I just need to---

“Mommy. Natalie is leaving,” my son’s voice piped up.

Ahh nice. Natalie is leaving. She must be....

Then it suddenly dawned on me that Natalie was MY kid. And that she was totally taking off into the travel section.

Crap.

I put the book I was looking at down and rushed off in pursuit of my daughter with my son at my heels. I was a little annoyed as I made my way past books about places that I will probably never get to go to. Before we had entered Barnes and Noble I had explained solemnly to my kids that it was a magical place that needed to be respected so they had to be quiet.

“Kind of like a church?” my son Tommy wondered.

I patted his head. “Yes! Kind of like a church!”

Why didn’t my daughter comprehend this? Is it so hard for her to stand in place for a few minutes? Didn’t she realize we were in BARNES and NOBLE?

I found Natalie crouching in front of the books about Disney. I have to give it to her, she has taste. I’d love to go back to Disney. Maybe one day.

I didn’t want to move too fast because if I did Natalie would probably take off again. So I sort of bent over and started speaking in soothing tones. I pretended she was an abandoned pet and that I was saving it from leaping off a cliff.

“Hi there, Natalie. Hi. I see you’re in front of the Disney books. Disney was so much FUN, wasn’t it?” I cooed as I slowly approached her. At my right Tommy started rushing over and I put a hand on his shoulder. “Stop,” I hissed. “If you move too quickly she’ll run again.”

Tommy nodded seriously and copied my movements. I was almost able to grab Natalie’s arm....almost....almost...

“Here’s the book about Tibet!” a woman’s voice rang out.

This was all Natalie needed to make another escape.

CRAP.

Dang lady, could you not have lowered you voice?

Natalie giggled over to the magazines and covered her face. Then she threw her palms open and shrieked, “Peekyboo!”

I managed to grab her this time.

“We do NOT run off,” I admonished her as I headed over to the fiction section. I had my arm around her waist and tucked up underneath my left armpit. She was not pleased but it gave me a few minutes to look through some books. I quickly picked one up for our trip to Texas next week.

I ended up buying this one:



As we were driving away I realized that I forgot to pick up the cheesecake.

Shopping with children is not fun.

But still, there was one place left that I wanted to pop into.

Gymboree.

Gymboree is currently having their Red Balloon Sale and a bunch of things are $7.99 and under.

I had a $25 gift card from my best friend Jennifer because she knows me well.

When we got to the mall I put Natalie in her stroller and told her she had to SIT which is like a foreign word to her. My heart started beating with excitement as I made my way to Gymboree. I was thrilled to search through the clearance racks—who knows what I might find? Maybe I’d discover—

“Mommy! Wait up!”

I realized that I was walking so fast that my son was a few feet behind me.

Oops.

“Sorry Tommy,” I said as he caught up.

When we walked into the store another burst of excitement went through me when I saw the clearance racks set up towards the front. There were two other women going through the racks and at first I gazed at them with appreciation. They probably understood completely how exciting children’s clothing could be. They probably wouldn’t look confused when I gushed about the different line names. In short these were my people!!

As I was thinking this one of the women realized I was looking over and shot me an evil look.

Well. Okay. Maybe she’s not my people after all. She probably just walked into the store because she was enticed by the giant sale sign and would gape at me in confusion if I rambled on about how Sweeter than Chocolate was one of my favorite lines from the store.

Plus, she couldn’t be one of my people anyway. She had a huge pile of clothes draped across her arm. Wait a minute. She was stealing all the deals! I can’t let someone who isn’t even into Gymboree steal all the deals! I walked determinedly over to the rack and started going through it. All the sizes were much too large for my children. As I was debating buying a shirt in a size 5—-because after all, Natalie would EVENTUALLY get there—-I heard Tommy say,

“Mommy, Natalie is leaving the stroller.”

What?

I stared at the stroller and realized she was calmly climbing out of it.

“No, Natalie,” I said sternly.

She immediately took offense and tilted her head back and emitted a scream that caused everyone in the store to look over.

I quickly dug in my purse and handed her my cell phone.

“Here. Take this!” I practically shoved it at her.

Natalie quieted down and happily took it. If ever anyone receives a strange text message from me, it’s likely because Natalie has my phone. Just an FYI.

I was able to go through the racks but I didn’t find much.

Slightly dejected, I went to check out. As I went to pay Natalie suddenly announced, “I farted.”

Lovely. She’s been saying that for the past few days and I’ve explained more than once that that’s the sort of news that one keeps to themselves. But she doesn’t seem to comprehend and it’s been “I farted” several times a day to the point where I’ve started to wonder if she could benefit from some Beano.

The girl who was ringing up my clothes looked up in shock when Natalie announced her flatulence.

“She didn’t say what you think,” I said in a rushed voice. “She said...'I started' because she started to play a game on the cell phone.”

Look, I go into Gymboree a lot. I can’t have them thinking that I’m the customer with the kid that announces that she’s cut the cheese. I just CAN’T.

The check out girl looked impressed. “She can already play games?” she said incredulously as she put my clothes in a bag.

I nodded. “Yes. Just the, um, easy ones.” To be honest, I don’t even know if games are even ON my cell phone. I reached over and surreptitiously pulled the cell phone from Natalie’s mouth and tried to send her a silent message that she needed to look as though she were playing a game.

“Have a good day,” the girl said, handing me my receipt.

“Thanks,” I replied. “It’s my birthday so I intend to have a good day.”

Now, what I was hoping that would happen in response to birthday announcement is that balloons would fall from the ceiling and Michael Phelps would pop out of the back blowing a whistle and that the CEO of Gymboree would stroll out from the back and ceremoniously hand me a $5000 gift card to the store.

What really happened is that the girl looked bored, blew a bubble with her gum and gave me a pity, “Happy Birthday,” because she was probably tired of me looking at her expectantly.

Oh well.

Petrified of Airplanes

I fly to Texas on Wednesday.

I do not like to fly.

I especially do not like to fly with children.

But flying in general makes me nervous. If the plane so much as gives a funny lurch then I’m positive we’re all going to die. I grip the armrests until my knuckles turn white and I’ve been asked more times than I care to count by other passengers if I’m okay.

“You look terrified, dear,” an elderly woman once said to me.

Well. That’s probably because I AM.

My heart immediately starts to race the second I step onboard the aircraft and am hit with the familiar airplane scent of recycled air. That alone can send me into a panic attack.

It doesn’t help when I read stories about plane crashes. When I heard about the Air France flight that went missing I started to chew on my nails in fear. At first I had hope that perhaps the aircraft went to an island like the one on Lost. But then pieces of the plane were found in the ocean followed by bodies—and I crossed myself even though I’m not Catholic and muttered something like, “Sweet Jesus.”

Then I read about a Continental flight this morning where the pilot ended up dying so the co-pilot had to take over.

So…not only do I have to worry about the plane crashing, I also have to worry about the health of the pilot. I think when I board the plane on Wednesday I’m going to take a good look at the pilot and ask point blank how his ticker is working and does he think he’s healthy enough to fly? If he gives a funny cough I’m going to be tempted to turn on my heel and walk off.

Flying with children just adds to my stress. I have a backpack stuffed with small toys that I’ve picked up that will hopefully distract them. I have a portable DVD player that is all ready to go. I think everything will be okay. I think….

Oh my God, I just have a feeling that my kids are going to turn into monsters. This is the first time that I’m flying ON MY OWN without any help. They sense fear just like dogs. They latch onto any sort of weakness. I’m tempted to pick up harnesses but then I picture myself being dragged down the terminal at top speed.

What if I have to use the bathroom? I suppose I have to lug everything in the stall with me along with my two kids. I can’t very well leave my seven-year-old by himself at a busy airport.

I’ll just have to take it easy on the liquids. Because going to the bathroom on the airplane will just be out of the question.

What if both of the kids take off in opposite directions? Who do I chase first? Do I leave all our stuff just sitting there? But…that’s not allowed these days at the airport. The announcement that sounds overhead every five minutes specifically says that if luggage is abandoned, that it will be destroyed. I can’t have my luggage destroyed! There are adorable Gymboree outfits in there! Oh, and my stuff too.

If we go through turbulence on the airplane I’ll have to pretend like everything is okay.

“It’s perfectly normal,” I’ll tell my kids in a fake voice even though what I’ll really want to do is curl up in a ball and pop a Xanax in my mouth.

Everything is going to be okay.

That’s my mantra. That’s what I keep telling myself when I feel another wave of hysteria coming on.

I can do this.

I’m a grown adult for heavens sake.

If I can survive birthing and breastfeeding two children then surely I can handle a silly little plane ride.

Right?

Right.

Of Spills and Mystery Stains

Being a stay at home mom isn't easy.

Especially when you have two messy kids.

I lose count of the messes that I clean up in a day.

So I decided to take pictures of everything I had to scrub up today. Here is what I've cleaned up so far:



This morning I found moon sand in my bathroom sink. I rue the day that I decided to purchase it because I've been finding the sand all over my house. I asked my son why there was moon sand in the sink and he said he was "watering" it. This confused me.




I'm working on potty training Natalie. I'll sometimes let her run around naked because I read that it's easier for kids to be that way when they're potty training. Needless to say, I don't think Natalie will get the chance to be naked for a long time. She peed all over the carpet and then calmly told me, "I pottied!" Then there was the time that I found her crouching over my shoe and it took me a few seconds to realize that she was totally PEEING in it. My poor Sketchers!

Do I have a daughter or a puppy?




I wish I could blame this spill on the kids. But it was me. I'm a total klutz and I knock things over on a daily basis. I may be the only adult who still bumps her drinking glass over on the table.




Natalie somehow managed to find some candy powder and took it upon herself to spread it around on the kitchen floor. "It's pretty!" she told me grandly when I caught her. Do you notice what her shirt says? It says Little Monster and I'm sorry, sometimes she truly is one.




Ack! Look what Tommy did. Okay, I'm kidding. I did that. Again, I'm a total klutz and I went to take a sip and managed to knock my juice onto the floor. What adult still does this????




Um. Can someone explain to me what in the world this is? I found it about an hour ago and at first I thought it was a bug. Then I peered closer and I was all, "The crap???" Is it pudding? Ew, what if it IS a smushed bug? But my husband isn't here so I doubt it--he has a bad habit of killing bugs and leaving the carcasses behind for ME to clean up. Whatever it is I'm still wary of cleaning it up. I'm slightly paranoid that it's...feces...though how it got on the wall like that is beyond me. But I have talented kids who have figured out all sorts of ways to leave behind messes.

Yuck.

I'm Surrounded by Weeds

I am not a fan of yard work.

Some people find it soothing to sit there and pull weeds or plant a new flower.

I do not.

Oh, I always marvel and admire other people’s yards and vow that I’ll try harder to grow stuff next year. But then that year comes and I’m all, “Well....maybe NEXT year....”

The thing is, I generally kill everything I plant. Not on purpose, of course. It starts out well but then I wind up forgetting about it and the next time I remember it’s all brown and shriveled.

My husband is usually in charge of the yard. But since he’s gone, I’ve had to take over. And I have to say, I’m not doing a great job. There are weeds dotting the yard and they’ve started popping up through the driveway cracks. I seriously need to weed eat but I can’t even BEGIN to figure out how to work that crazy contraption. It’s nearly as big as I am! I try to mow as close to the corners as I possibly can but the last time I did that, a rock flew up and nearly hit me right in the face.

Since we live on the military base our yard is inspected on a weekly basis. If the yard is deemed “unsightly” you get a citation. If you get enough citations you’re kicked out. Now, I’ve never heard of this ACTUALLY happening but I do know if you get a ton of citations that it goes to the first sergeant and the military member gets an ass chewing.

We got a citation last week. For having an unsightly yard. The guy wrote down that I needed to pull the weeds and to mow the back area.

Like I don’t already have enough on my plate!

I managed to pull a few weeds and then I got bored and came back inside. Then, okay, I somehow FORGOT about the yard because I was busy dealing with the kids. The yard completely slipped my mind until I saw the housing inspector trolling around the side of my house yesterday after I had put Natalie down for her nap.

Shit!

He had a clipboard in his hands and was frowning at some weeds. Then he started scribbling something down and I just KNEW it was another citation.

I couldn’t get my husband yelled at by his first sergeant! He’d never let me forget it. It would give him a leg up on EVERYTHING! For instance, if we were deciding what to have for dinner and I suggested spaghetti and he wanted lasagna, he could add something like, “And remember that one time you got me yelled at by the first sergeant..” and would just trail off and raise his eyebrows at me. Then I’d feel guilty all over again and let him have his way.

I can’t have that!

So I took a deep breath and pinched my cheeks---Scarlett O’Hara was always pinching her cheeks before speaking to a man. Apparently they make them red or something but I don’t know if I pinched too hard or what because they really started to sting.

The things we do to impress the opposite sex.

I strolled over to the inspector and said in a jovial voice, “Hello there!”

I made him jump because he was so busy writing something down. He looked up all startled and I relaxed a bit because he was an older man which meant that perhaps I would remind him of his precious granddaughter and he’d cut me some slack.

Of course, his granddaughter could be a total druggie who once stole a bunch of money from him and he totally hates her now but in my mind she was this sweet girl who went to Harvard and is now a doctor.

“You have weeds all over the place,” the inspector told me after finding his voice. His tone suggested that he was quite offended by this and I was surprised he didn’t wag his finger at me reproachfully.

Okay. It’s okay. Just look innocent. Flutter your eyelashes. No, scratch that, you don’t want him to think you’re coming on to him.

“I’m sorry,” I said regretfully. I even lowered my chin and tried to make it look like I was really disturbed by having an unsightly yard. “It’s just, my husband is gone and he’s usually in charge of the yard. I have two kids and a house to take care of...” Not to mention a novel that I'm trying to finish!

I thought this might move the inspector. But it didn’t. He just stared at me as though I were lying to him. I imagine he hears a lot of excuses. But in this case, it wasn’t an excuse!

“Where are your kids now?” he wondered, eyebrows raised.

“Er…one is sleeping and the other is watching TV,” I admitted. As soon as I said that I realized I had made a grave mistake.

“Then…how about you get to pulling out some weeds? That way I don’t have to give you another citation.” He gave me a stern look.

He can’t possibly be a grandfather. If so, he probably terrifies his grandkids. My God, he didn’t even CARE that my husband was gone…

I nodded my head. What else could I do? I couldn’t very well wave my arm and say, “Nah,” and head inside.

So I forced a smile and said, “I’ll get right on those weeds!” and bent down and pulled a wad of them up.

Of course after I did that I was all, crap, where do I put weeds? A regular trash bag? A paper bag? I sort of sat there holding the weeds in confusion as they rained dirt down my legs.

“I’m going to finish checking out the rest of the houses on the cul-de-sac,” the inspector said. “You might want to get a bag for the weeds. There is a lot of them,” he added pointedly and gave me another non-warm grandfather look.

I wanted to flip him the bird but instead I bobbed my head enthusiastically. “Thanks for the tip!” I said, my voice a few octaves higher than usual because I was trying so hard not to lose my temper.

I rushed inside and grabbed a paper bag and then walked back outside.

This sucked.

What I wanted to do was sprawl out on the couch and enjoy a few minutes of silence.

But I couldn’t.

I had weeds to pull.

My son Tommy offered to help and at first he did a good job but then he got distracted and started chasing some butterflies.

I yanked up weed after weed after weed…my fingers started to ache and the tips of them had turned brown from the dirt. After I pulled up a huge mound a worm fell off the bottom and landed on my knee.

“JESUS CHRIST!” I boomed and shot straight up. The weeds I had just pulled up were flung across the yard and I started doing a silly little worm-get-the-crap-off-me dance around the yard.

“Yay! Dancing!” Tommy said and started copying my movements.

There we were, two crazies doing the strangest dance you’ll probably ever see.

The inspector was across the cul de sac and looked over in confusion as I leaped across the grass. I immediately stopped when I saw his expression and brushed myself off and pretended like I had meant to do that all along.

“Leg cramp!” I called out to him and then went back to the weeds.

I spent what seemed like forever plucking out weeds. My throat started to feel all dry and I wanted some water but I was afraid the inspector would stalk over and hit me over the head with his clipboard or something. He seemed like the type.

“This is not fun,” I said wistfully to myself as I moved over to this rock mountain in our yard that was dotted with the dreaded weeds.



I hate the rock mountain. It was here when we moved in. I wish the previous owners had destroyed it before they left because it is a pain in the butt during the summer. When we first moved in there was a plant growing in the middle but we managed to kill that less than a year after moving in.

After what seemed like forever, I was starting to really hate weeds. My hand accidentally bumped a rock as I went to yank up more weeds and I watched as the rock landed over a tiny mound.

The rock totally covered the small patch of weeds!

Suddenly my mind started racing with excitement. I could take a bunch of rocks and just COVER the rest of the weeds! Then I wouldn’t have to worry about them and maybe I’d have a few minutes left to rest before Natalie woke up. YES!

With rejuvenated energy I started grabbing rocks and hiding some weed patches. I was so busy doing this that I didn’t hear the footsteps behind me. Then I heard someone clearing their throat loudly and I whipped around in shock.

The inspector stared down at me with thin lips. He did not look pleased.

Shit.

“This…isn’t how it looks,” I said lightly. I even pulled out a patch of weeds to show him that there was no way that I was covering them up.

“It looks like you’re covering the weeds with rocks,” the inspector said sharply.

Shit again.

Nervous laughter escaped my lips. “Don’t be silly...I would never...”

The inspector just rolled his eyes. “Look. I’ll give you a break this week. Next week you need to have this yard taken care of. Make sure you mow in the back.” He gestured with his clipboard. “It looks like a jungle back there.”

I didn’t tell him that I had STARTED to mow the back but then had gotten tired and had sworn that I saw John Krasinski leap out from behind a tree so I figured it was time to stop.

“I’ll get it done,” I promised.

The inspector gave me one last stern look before getting into his car and driving off.

So now I’ve got to make sure that I have the yard done. I plan on picking up some weed killer and hoping that it’ll do the job for me. I asked my husband which kind I should get and he started prattling on about different ones and saying things like, “But don’t put it on the grass or it’ll KILL it!”

Oh. Well that would suck.

I just assumed the weed killer would sense when something wasn’t a weed and leave it be.

But I guess not.

Obviously I have a lot of learn.

Living with the Military

So I was already frazzled because a moth had gotten trapped inside the house and had decided to attack me.

I’m not kidding. The thing flew in my face and I started swinging my arms wildly saying things like, “Get away!” and, “Don’t worry kids. Mommy isn’t REALLY afraid.” I mean, I can’t have them thinking that moths terrify me. Even though they do. They’re brown and furry and disgusting looking and they get excited over bright lights for craps sake!

I managed to get the moth away from me and I was trying to decide if I should kill the thing or find a way for it to get outside. It had flown over to the wall and was resting there all gross and fuzzy. I had decided that I’d grab it with a bunch of paper towels and throw everything outside.

I had a wad of paper towels and was inching closer to the moth. I was about to cover it with the paper towels when....

....there was a loud boom and the entire house started shaking for a few seconds.

“What was THAT?” Tommy shrieked from the couch. Natalie paused from pulling the DVDs out of the drawer and looked up with a start.

What I wanted to scream was, WE’RE ALL GOING TO DIE!

But I composed and reminded myself that even though it was a shocking concept, I was the adult here and I had to reassure my children that everything was okay.

It’s just, I probably watch too many of those movies where the world ends after a gigantic blast. Or I watch the movies where aliens come down and destroy the earth and Will Smith has to save everyone.

“It was nothing,” I assured my confused kids. “Just the silly military doing weird things.” I made a funny face when I said the words ‘silly military’ and this made them laugh.

When you live on a military base, you never know what you’ll hear. Or encounter. One time I was on my way to Gymboree and before I could leave the base, a military policeman stopped me and said I had to wait for the general to pass.

“But sir,” I wanted to argue. “There’s a fantastic sale going on right now. Surely if you phone up the General and let him know this, he’ll be happy to let me pass?”

I didn’t say that. Of course I wanted to but instead I sat and waited...and waited....and finally there was this fancy looking car followed by a bunch of other cars in case someone tried to take out the general. And actually, I was close to doing so because I just wanted to get to my freaking sale and the kids were getting restless in the back seat. I really think the General should have rules like, “People on the base don’t have to wait for me to pass if there is a sale or if they have young children in the backseat....”

Sometimes I also have fantasies about calling up the Command Center and asking them to turn off the airplanes because my kids are trying to get to sleep and how are they supposed to sleep if they keep flying their aircraft right over my house?

Anyhow, back to the loud boom incident.

I ended up peeking out the window and in the distance I saw black smoke rising so I figured the military had blown something up. I was contemplating this when another boom was heard and the house started shaking again.

The only reason why I didn’t freak out this time was because I spotted a jogger who had nearly jumped out of his skin when the Big Bang occurred. His legs spread out and his arms shot up in the air and I’m actually surprised he didn’t fall to the ground. If that had been me I’d have surely screeched, “We’re all going to DIE!” before rushing off.

I need to start watching happier movies.

“What’s going on now?” Tommy demanded, looking at me as though I had made the house shudder.

“It’s the military blowing stuff up,” I explained.

“Cool!” Tommy said, eyes lighting up.

About a minute later there was a knock on the door and for a brief second I thought it might be a soldier informing me that a bunch of aliens had just dropped down and did I happen to see any scurrying about?

Yeah, obviously I need to cut back on the shows about extraterrestrials too.

It turns out that it was my neighbor. She stood on the doorstep with wide eyes. My neighbor looks to be all of twenty and is probably ninety pounds soaking wet. It’s not fair because she has a ten-month-old little boy and I’m all, okay, I had my son at nineteen and I looked like a total blob for the first two years after I had him. How is she able to already be skinny? It’s just not fair.

“Are you okay?” she asked. “I heard a banging sound. Did something fall over? Sometimes I can hear noises through the walls and they’re never as loud as that so I decided to check.”

What? Wait? She hears NOISES?

I thought back to a few days prior when I had stepped on one of Tommy’s Matchbox cars with my bare foot and had let out a string of profanities. I normally don’t talk like that, I swear! It’s just, it really HURT. There were sharp edges on that car which totally dug into my heel.

It was on the tip of my tongue to gush, “Okay, how much did you hear the other day? Because I normally don’t talk like that. I only use bad words when I’ve been injured which is totally allowed—it even says so in all the parenting books that I’ve read.”

Okay, so not really, but there SHOULD be a chapter entitled: “It’s okay to swear when you’ve been hurt.”

“Nothing fell over,” I assured the neighbor. “I think the military is just blowing stuff up.”

She still looked a little spooked as though worried that I totally pulled a Jack Nicholson from The Shining and was going through the house destroying things and shouting stuff like, “HEEERREESSS MOMMY!” while swinging a baseball bat around my head.

“Okay then,” the neighbor finally said, still a little wary. She tried to crane her neck around me, trying in vain to spot a toppled over piece of furniture “Bye.” She slowly walked back to her house.

So fantastic.

My neighbor thinks I’m knocking over furniture on purpose.

More Letters to Tom

I've done these letters before and figured it was time to do them one more time.

My husband Tom is on TDY at military dog working school for a few more weeks. I write him letters to keep his spirits up because sometimes he calls and he sounds all depressed. Which, no offense, he shouldn’t sound depressed because if I got all that quiet time I’d be leaping in the air and clicking my heels. But Tom can get into these funks where nothing can make him crack a smile and it’s frustrating.

I do hope my letters cheer him up a little bit though.

The first one is the kind of letter that I actually send him:

Dear Tom,

I miss you! Especially at night. Sometimes I watch those shows about ghosts and aliens and you know me, I freak out. I miss being able to curl up in your lap as you assure me that ET isn’t going to come down and abduct me.

That IS pretty cool that some of the dogs you work with will eventually be retired and will need homes. Maybe in a few years, Tom. Right now I’m not sure my sanity can handle it.

The kids are doing well. Natalie will sometimes ask where you are and it is so cute. Tommy is also thrilled for you to be home. I think he’s fed up with the fact that I have no clue how to put Legos together. I do try, I really do, but somehow the instructions confuse me and Tommy gets frustrated and tells me that I’m doing it all wrong.

I’ve been making all sorts of different dinners so that when you come home I’ll have some new things to cook. I understand that a person can only eat so much spaghetti.

I can’t wait until we can go on a date, just the two of us. It’ll be so much fun! Afterwards we can go to a movie—I know we can’t agree on one but surely we’ll figure something out.

I’ll be seeing you in exactly two weeks. I picture us clapping eyes as I walk into the building where you’ll be graduating and our hearts will swell with love. I’ll gaze at you lovingly like they do on Grey’s Anatomy and you’ll gaze back and then we’ll start running with our arms spread and you’ll pick me up and spin me around as you kiss my lips. Then our children will rush over and throw their arms around us and we’ll be standing there in a beautiful family hug.

I can’t wait, Tom. I’ll see you soon.
Love,
Amber


This is the letter that I WANT to send to him:



Tom,

Holy shit you need to come home! I keep watching the ghost and alien shows even though I know better and then I’m totally freaked out. The other day I swore there was a ghost in the closet. I kept hearing a clunking sound and was shaking in horror in the bed. If you had been here I’d have curled up in your arms. Actually, I probably would have jumped on top of you and told you to KILL THE GHOST which would make no sense because the ghost is already dead. Of course then you’d probably get turned on because I was on top of you and I’d be all, “Tom! This is not an appropriate time for lovemaking! There is GHOST in the closet!”

There is no way we’re getting a dog, Tom. Are you kidding me? I can barely manage these two kids and you want to bring another living being in this house? Can you guess who will probably be stuck walking the dog? Yup, that would be me. I’d probably be hounding you to take the dog for a walk, for the love of God TAKE THE DOG FOR A WALK and you’d give me that wounded look as though I hurt your pride or something. But Tom, sometimes you aren’t that much of a help. Remember that one time when Natalie had crapped her pants and you sat there on the couch and pretended that you didn’t smell it even though it was obvious from your expression that you HAD? Then when I finished doing the dishes and smelt it you were all, “Oh, I had no idea she pooped.” I can just SEE you looking all baffled and being all, “I had no idea the dog needed to be walked…” So no, Tom. We won’t be getting a dog.

The kids are still driving me crazy. Natalie constantly asks where you are and I’m starting to think that something is wrong with her. I mean, I explain that you’re at dog training school and she seems to comprehend it….and then a few hours later she’s asking where you are again. Is there something wrong with her short term memory? Oh my God, what if she’s just like Izzy on Grey’s Anatomy and keeps forgetting things? Now I’m in a complete panic that something HAS to be wrong with her. You need to come home so you can assure me that she’s perfectly fine; that she’s just being a two-year-old and probably enjoys the power of having me repeat the same thing over and over again.

Tommy is downright pissed that I can’t put together his Lego sets. This really isn’t my fault. Why in the WORLD do they make pieces that look identical yet they really aren’t? For instance, I swore this one red piece clipped into this one blue piece but I was wrong…it was a completely different red piece that I needed that I swear, looked exactly the SAME. Why does Lego like upsetting me? Why is it so complicated? I gave birth to two human beings for chrissakes, I should be able to put together a Lego dinosaur! I survived Algebra class—and okay, I only scraped by with a C but still—the bottom line is I PASSED. Why is this Lego set not making any sense to me?

I am so sick of cooking. I’ve tried to make new recipes but a lot of them come out tasting like old dirty gym socks. Not that I’ve ever CONSUMED old dirty gym socks but I can imagine that they’d taste just like the Swedish meatballs I tried to put together. The sauce was all wrong and Tommy actually gagged one of the meatballs out and asked what was wrong with it. I followed the recipe! I swear I did! I’m just trying to figure out other things to make so that you don’t have to constantly eat spaghetti and Sloppy Joes. But Tom, I’m sorry, you may HAVE to eat a lot of spaghetti or Sloppy Joes as these seem to be the only adequate things I can prepare for dinner. Sorry. You should have married a woman who knew her way around the kitchen. Not one who burns things and who tells the recipe to kiss her pale ass when she doesn’t understand what it’s talking about.

I am thrilled to be going on a date with you. Isn’t my Mom so nice to take the kids for us? You won’t believe how excited I am to be dining on a meal in peace without two kids jabbering on in my ears. Oh, and it’ll be nice to actually eat my meal when it’s HOT. Usually my food is lukewarm by the time I finish cutting everyone’s meat up. I’m totally picking the movie we’re going to see afterwards, Tom. I earned it. I’ve kept these two children alive on my own for two and a half months and I’ve earned the right to pick the movie. I’m sorry, but we’re going to see The Proposal. I don’t CARE if chick flicks make you want to gouge your eyeballs out. You can deal with it for an hour and a half. Stare at Sandra Bullock or something! Maybe even Betty White if elderly people excite you. I don’t care. You just need to sit there and eat your nachos and let me watch my movie in peace. It’s really that simple. Do I need to remind you how many times you’ve forced me to sit through Saving Private Ryan? It’s over ten times but who is counting? I’ve been traumatized by the first ten minutes of that movie but does that bother you? No. All you kept saying was, “Isn’t this a fantastic film?” and I’d be sitting there with my hands over my eyes asking if the bloody scenes were over. It wasn’t funny that one time when you said yes and the bloody scenes really weren’t over. Now I have that image of that poor boy lying on the beach with his intestines splayed all over the place calling for his mother permanently etched in my brain.

In exactly two weeks we’ll be together again. I imagine you’ll just give me one of your ridiculous waves and will quickly plant a kiss on my lips while muttering, “Hello.” You’ve never been one for romantic reunions, have you Tom? Don’t be insulted if Tommy lifts his chin and stalks off—he’s just been missing you is all. And Natalie, well, if she swats your leg, please don’t take offense. She doesn’t understand why you had to leave even though I’ve explained it to her a billion times.

I will see you soon. I hope these two weeks fly by for my sanity’s sake.

Love,
Your frazzled wife

My Son, Optimus Prime

Tommy has been out of school for about a week now.

It’s been fantastic having him home. Really it has. I mean, sure he likes to follow me around the house and ask me what I’m doing every few minutes. He’s just curious is all. It’s pretty cool to know that he thinks so highly of me.

Usually I would look forward to putting Natalie down for her nap so I could have some privacy. Isn’t it precious that Tommy still trails behind me even after I put her down? Who needs privacy anyway? It’s just so lovely always being with my son and always---

Oh, who am I kidding?

I need my space!

Why won’t Tommy give me my space?

He has a room FILLED with toys and yet he insists on always being around me. I’m not that interesting! I clean and I clean and I clean some more. Sometimes when I’m feeling extra feisty I may even cook.

It was flattering at first having Tommy always wanting to be near me. But then it got old. I’d politely ask if he wanted to go play with his toys.

“No!” he’d say brightly.

So I’d start to do the dishes and he’d just be standing there...watching...I cannot stand to be watched.

Then Tommy decided to make things extra exciting and started following me wearing this:



The mask also allows him to sound like a robot. So the entire day I have someone at my heels with a voice that sort of resembles C3PO.

This was cute at the beginning. But after a few hours I started to get annoyed. I'd be bending down scrubbing the latest stain out of the carpet. I'd turn around and I'd see this:



And I don't care if I know that he'll be there. It still startles me each time. It's not normal to turn and see an Optimus Prime head staring back at you. It's just not!

I headed off to scrub the toilet.

"What are you doing?" Tommy asked in his robotic voice.

What does it LOOK like I'm doing? was what I wanted to snap back with.

Instead I said, "Well, I'm cleaning the toilets, Tommy."

"It's Optimus Prime," was his response.

I went to mop the floor. I accidentally ran into this:



"Hey Tommy?" I said lightly. "How about you go outside?"

"It's Optimus Prime. And no, I don't want to go outside. I want to clean with you," Tommy--I mean, Optimus Prime answered.

I COULD have pointed out that he wasn't even cleaning. He was just WATCHING. But I didn't. I just bent down to scrub off a mystery stain off the kitchen floor that the mop wasn't getting. Tom squatted down beside me. I looked up and saw this:



Holy CRAP.

When I finished cleaning I had a few minutes before Natalie woke up. So I went to the computer to check my e-mail. Optimus Prime followed me and gazed over my shoulder.

I HATE when people read over my shoulder.

"Tomm--I mean, Optimus Prime? Could I please have some privacy?" I asked nicely.



"What is privacy?" Optimus Prime teased.

"Something that YOU'LL never be getting as a teenager if you keep this up," I muttered.

Eventually--blissfully--I got him to leave me alone for a little bit.

How?

I told Tommy that he needed to save being Optimus Prime for when his Daddy came home. Because surely Daddy would LOVE being followed.

"He would?" Tommy wondered excitedly.

I nodded. "Oh definately. He was just telling me on the phone that he can't WAIT for you to observe him."

Okay, so it's slightly mean. But Tom deserves it. Even though I know he's working hard at military dog training school he gets to have downtime when it's all over. He's talked about going to the Rainforest Cafe and to Sonic and to TGI Fridays....

So really, I don't feel guilty at all.

Have fun with Optimus Prime, Tom.

Hooray for Good Mail!

Cutting Back sucks.

I repeat. Cutting Back SUCKS.

I miss shopping! I miss walking into a store and tossing whatever I want into my cart.

Well. I never got to toss WHATEVER I wanted into a cart. We are a military family after all. It’s not like the military pays us millions even though I totally think they should. But I was able to buy more than I’m buying now. And we were able to go out to eat more often which I loved because I hate to cook.

For those who don’t know, we’ve had to Cut Back since my old car started breaking down on us and we had to buy a new car. The new car is nice but it means car payments all over again. Oh, and slightly raised car insurance.

Target is one of my all time favorite stores. I could spend all day in there just pacing the aisles. If I didn’t have kids I’d probably be in there more than once per week and be dubbed “the crazy Target lady.” My heart races with excitement when I see the familiar red and white 75% off sign over a clearance rack. You won’t believe how many deals I’ve scooped up from there. Shirts, shoes, jeans, a snowboard....

Okay, so I don’t snowboard. But I may decide to take it up someday.

My husband didn’t comprehend this as I unloaded it from the trunk.

“Um,” he said, gesturing to the gorgeous dark board. “What’s with that?”

I gave him a cheerful smile. “A snowboard.”

Poor Tom. He doesn’t even know what a snowboard is. He really needs to get out more but the military overworks him. Which is why I totally think he deserves a raise.

Tom rolled his eyes at me. “I KNOW it’s a snowboard, Amber. But what is it doing HERE?” He looked utterly perplexed as I carried it into the garage.

“It’s for me. For the future. If I decide to take up snowboarding. It could happen,” I said with a sharp nod.

It COULD. I was watching Tori and Dean last night and they were snowboarding. It actually looked like a lot of fun. Nevermind that I’m not a huge fan of the cold. Surely I’d be bundled up so much that I wouldn’t even FEEL the cold. And okay, I’d probably start to panic if I started heading down the hill too quickly but that’s what lessons are for, right? Who knows, maybe I’d be really good at snowboarding and be featured in magazines. First timer becomes champion! the headliners might read.

You just never know.

“You’d never take up snowboarding. Just the other day you told me that the cold could kiss your ass,” Tom pointed out.

Oh. Well.

It’s true but like I said, I could bundle up in an adorable pink coat with a matching helmet and all would be well again. Then afterwards I could sit down and enjoy a hot chocolate. That would be my reward for snowboarding!

“It was 75% off, Tom. I only paid seven bucks for it. Isn’t it a beauty?” I stroked the board part and nearly got my arm caught in the bit where your feet must go into. I pretended that I meant to do it though.

“You’ll never use it. It’s going to sit in our garage forever and collect dust. I guarantee it!” Tom said before walking into the house.

Not true! I WILL use it! One day we’ll decide to vacation on the snowy mountains and we’ll totally snowboard. Then I’d be all, “Aren’t you glad I bought this snowboard?”

But anyhow, my real point of this entry is to basically whine over the fact that I can’t shop as much anymore.

I’ve been walking into Target and spending under $20 which rarely used to happen. I’ve had to avoid my favorite children’s store Gymboree because I know I’ll be tempted the second I set foot into the store.

I was actually doing pretty good avoiding Gymboree. Until I heard about this new sale. It was called the Stuff A Bag sale and everything was 30% off. Plus you could use a 30% off coupon on top of that. It would practically be a crime NOT to shop it. I called Tom and casually mentioned the sale.

“Get something,” Tom said.

He’s always urging me to buy something. He really is lucky that I’m not one of those women who would totally take him up on that and go crazy. Then again, he also urges me to buy stuff so when HE finds something he wants to buy then I can’t say no. Because then he’ll be all, “Well, remember when I let you buy....”

It’s annoying, really.

I decided to take a peek at the Gymboree site. Which was my first mistake. Because then I started oogling all the outfits and picturing Natalie in them. They have a new watermelon line that I started to get excited about.

Watermelons! Look how cute! Okay, so I’m not a HUGE fan of watermelons...I think I ate too many as a child because now I cringe when I have one which is a shame because watermelons are the thing to eat during the summer and you look like a total loser when you turn it down. Then people are aghast and are all, “How can you not like watermelon?” and it takes ten minutes to explain because no one can believe that someone doesn’t like the beloved fruit. But...watermelon on CLOTHES are just precious. Maybe if I just get ONE outfit...

And that’s basically what happened. I picked out an outfit.

It came in the mail the other day. I was thrilled. I’m always thrilled when it’s a Good Mail day. Do you know how boring it is to constantly get bills and magazines with god-awful products in them on a daily basis? I once got a magazine dedicated to golf stuff and I don’t even golf. I tried once and it took me a few tries to even HIT the ball. Plus I couldn’t get over some of the awful outfits that some people had on. This one guy had on a multi-colored shirt that just SCREAMED 1980s. His pants reminded me of something that Bozo the Clown would wear. I was so busy giggling at this that I could barely concentrate on hitting the ball and my husband was all, “Amber, it’s not the time to laugh, it’s time to be serious and hit the ball!” and that ended up making me laugh even more.

Anyhow, this is the outfit that I got from Gymboree:



Natalie HAS to do fashion shows outside.



She planted herself behind a giant weed. I really need to take care of the weeds in the yard at some point. Our yard is starting to resemble the yard on Malcolm in the Middle.



She's all, "Lady, what do you want from me? I'm done with pictures." And yes, she totally took off her shoes. She calmly took them off her feet and then chucked them across the yard. "All done," she told me seriously.



I got her to smile because I started bouncing up and down and pretending to do the Can Can. Several cars drove past as I did this.



I also got her the matching headscarf. It's very hard to put a headscarf on a wiggly child.



Then Natalie became infatuated with her belly button. I wonder if photographers have problems with getting Heidi Klum to stop looking at her belly button when they're trying to take pictures?



Oh gosh, that grass she's holding scared me at first. I thought it was one of those green stick bugs that the celebrities had to eat on I'm A Celebrity, Get Me Out Of Here and let out a screech. Then I realized it was grass and relaxed.

So yes. It was thrilling to me to get some good mail.

But then more happy mail poured in!

My best friend Jennifer sent me my birthday package early. I turn 27 on the 19th of June.

The thing is, her mail attacked me.

How?

Well, I was walking past the front door and all of a sudden a large purple padded envelope flew right in front of me and landed on the carpet.

How awful would it have been to be hit by my OWN birthday package?

I peeked outside and saw the mailwoman walking away. I suppose she had tossed it inside because it was raining and she didn't want it to get wet. Which was NICE, don't get me wrong, but goodness me, she should have made sure no one was WALKING by the door when she did it.

I could have lost an eye or something!

Okay, probably not, as the package was light but still.

Jennifer knows me well because she gave me this:

A $25 gift card to Gymboree!



I know, this probably means I'm wacked because I prefer to buy clothes for my children over myself. But the thing is, they're cute and tiny and things fit them properly. Me? If I find a shirt I like sometimes it bunches all weird in the stomach area because I have extra flab or sometimes my arms look fat and I vow to go on a diet that lasts all of two days...

It can be quite stressful, really.

But children's clothes...they're different.

I suppose I could get excited about shoes but I've never been a shoe girl. I mean, yes, I admire a nice pair of shoes of course...but most of them I can't even walk in. Like I knew a woman who had a pair of Jimmy Choos and I thought they were designed by a train or something. Then she was all, "No, Jimmy Choo the DESIGNER!" and showed me these high heels that looked dangerous to walk in.

Someone really needs to teach me how to walk in heels properly. Maybe if I get that down then I'd get more excited about shoes. Right now I walk into things and lose my balance when I'm in heels.

Anyhow, Jennifer's gift card couldn't have come at a better time. Gymboree will be having their Red Balloon Sale soon which means that they will be selling a lot of their older clothes for cheap. Rumor has it that this starts on Tuesday.

But wait! The next day I got MORE good mail.

See, Nikki over at Aunt of 14 was doing a giveaway and I won!

This is what she sent:



I LOVE The Notebook. The movie AND the book. This rarely happens. Usually they totally botch the movie up but this movie is fantastic. I'm still trying to get my husband to watch it with me. He's all, "I don't think so. If I sat through that you'd have to reward me. I'm talking sex every day for an entire month." Who has time for that?

She also gave me a beautiful keychain that I love. The keychain I used to have was of a scary looking buffalo that freaked out my daughter. So she much appreciates this new pretty non-scary keychain.

So thank you, Nikki!

Unfortunately, I think that's all of the good mail that I'll be getting. No wait, sometimes I get birthday cards so that'll be exciting!

I Love Funny Cats

So I guess Tom felt bad for not sympathizing with me when I was sick.

He sent me this picture to cheer me up:



You have to understand that Tom and I find things like that hilarious. I mean, we practically go into convulsions from laughing so hard at the I Can Haz Cheeseburger site. Apparently looking at cats in funny positions is all it takes to keep us amused.

On Sunday I did feel better. My head wasn’t pounding and my throat didn’t feel as though I had been sucking on a jalepeno. I did feel a tad weak though; almost like I was walking through a fog. It took a few seconds longer for me to compute things. Like when Tommy asked for a glass of water I sort of sat there in confusion thinking, “Water? Where would I find water?”

Later on Tommy’s friends came over to play. Thankfully I like these friends. They’re sisters and one of the girls was all, “I had my first communion today!”

“Oh! Fantastic!” I quickly responded and flashed her a smile.

She still looked at me expectantly like she wanted more.

And because my brain wasn’t working properly I said, “Jesus be with you,” because in my foggy mind that seemed like the right thing to say when someone mentioned a communion. I also may have clasped my hands together as though I were praying and bowed slightly. This was because I was watching The Tudors and there are people bowing left and right on the show.

I think I confused the poor girl though. She jerked her head back in surprise and raised an eyebrow at me. Then she muttered out, “Thanks,” and hurried off because I think I scared her.

Oops.

Oh, and thank you to Alicia for the lovely blogger award. I know I'm always behind in accepting these things. I'm not being rude, I swear, it's because I'm HTML stupid and have no idea what to do next.

And also, thank you to Braja for the shout out. Because of it I surpassed 200 visitors yesterday for the first time. I wanted to do a happy dance. Over 200 visitors! I mean, yeah, I know some bloggers average in 2000 vistors but I will take my 200 vistors and be thrilled.

Don't Sick Dial

I woke up on Saturday with a pounding head, a stuffy noise and a sore throat.

I swear I hadn’t been drinking the night before!

I had just caught my kid’s cold. Lovely. I knew I was going to get sick when Tommy came home from school a few days ago with a runny nose. Then Natalie caught it. Naturally, I was the only one left.

I felt awful as I forced myself out of bed. I could hear Natalie calling for me from her bedroom.

“Mommy! I’m HUN-GEEEEE!”

I stood upright and my head throbbed. I had to squat down a few seconds because the room had started to spin.

I tried to stand up again and I nearly fell over. So I decided to crawl into Natalie’s room.

She found this amusing.

“Horsie!” she said and clambered onto my back.

She’s only about twenty pounds but if felt as though she were one hundred. I immediately sunk to the ground and Natalie slapped my head with her palm.

“Horsie!” she repeated, all insulted that I wasn’t moving. I was sort of splayed there in her room, surrounded by My Little Pony’s and her Little People sets. Her favorite stuffed toy Brobee stared at me from his spot in the corner.

“Mommy? Are you sick?” Tommy asked from the doorway. He was tossing me a bewildered look. I suppose it did look a little silly to see me with my limbs spread out as though I had been smashed and his sister on my back, angrily telling me to GO GO GO!

“I’m a little sick.” I struggled to get to my feet. Natalie slipped off onto the carpet and gave me an evil look before stalking off downstairs.

Well, excuse me!

I fixed the kids some cereal and sort of sat there at the table in a daze as they ate. I couldn’t even eat. When I’m not eating, you KNOW I’m sick because I love to eat. I put my head in my hands and tried to will the headache to go away.

When they were done eating I put on cartoons for them. This rarely happens downstairs—see, I can’t stand cartoons so I make the kids go upstairs if they want to watch it. So they were a little surprised.

“What’s this?” Tommy asked when Dora the Explorer filled the screen. I cannot stand Dora. I hate how she repeats the same thing over and over. At the end when she asks what your favorite part of the show is I like to say something snarky like, “When you shut up for two seconds…” Then when she’s all, “I liked that too!” I fall into a fit of giggles.

Hello. I’m Amber and I act like I’m five.

Anyhow, I told Tommy that he could watch cartoons because I needed to lie down.

Tommy still seemed at a loss.

“Cartoons? In the morning? Downstairs?” he said, wrinkling his nose as though he couldn’t grasp the concept.

“Yes,” I said, trying not to lose my cool.

Natalie was already attached to the show and was watching intently from the couch.

I turned and headed upstairs and fell into bed. My heart pounded angrily and I rubbed my temples. Then I closed my eyes and was about to drift off when I heard…

I love my balls! I love my balls! I love my balls, balls, balls, balls, balls!

Oh my God! In my foggy mind I started to panic that one of the kids had switched the channel onto some porn program. Not that we have porn channels but some of the shows that pop up on Showtime are a bit suggestive. And this one time when we got HBO for free for a few days there was a show about women who got off on horses. I was a little afraid yet I couldn’t stop watching.

I quickly pushed back my sheets and headed downstairs as fast as I could go. I expected to find a crazed man on the screen who was singing about loving his balls. I know some men do. Frankly I don’t know why. They’re awful things, really. They’re just sort of…THERE and…

Okay, I’m not getting into it.

Basically, what I was found on the screen was Boots the Monkey talking about loving his red BALL.

Oh.

Not balls.

“What’s wrong, Mommy?” Tommy wondered as I stood there half asleep.

“I thought....I thought....nevermind,” I mumbled. I couldn’t really tell my seven-year-old that I thought some pervert was singing about his testicles.

I turned and headed back upstairs. I figured I ought to call Tom to let him know I was sick. Then he’d feel all sorry for me and hey, maybe he’d take me shopping when I go to see him graduate in a few weeks. He’d be all, “I know how hard it was to take care of the kids when you were sick. So I’m letting you buy whatever you want.”

I wouldn’t even know where to start. Books? Clothes? Gymboree? Probably Gymboree. I can’t stay away from that store.

I dialed his number and he picked up on the third ring.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” I croaked out.

I expected him to go, “What’s wrong with your voice?” and then I’d be all, “Oh...well, I’m SICK!”

But he didn’t. He just stayed silent. I could hear the TV on in the background and figured he was watching it. He gets distracted really easily.

“So....” I continued. My voice was still raspy. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” Tom answered.

Hello? Did he not hear my voice? Did he not comprehend that I was SICK? Maybe he thinks I sound like that all the time. I mean, he IS a man. Men don’t always notice pesky details like voices.

I figured I’d just let him know because he obviously wasn’t going to mention it.

“I’m sickkkkk.” I sort of spread out the word sick to emphasize my point.

I expected him to instantly go, “Ohhh….poor Amber. Is there anything I can do to help? I’m definitely taking you shopping when you get here. Whatever you want!”

Instead he just went, “Mmmmmm,” in a noncommittal tone.

Excuse me? Mmmmmm? I tell him that I’m SICK and all he can muster is mmmmmmm? Isn’t he concerned for his children? For his WIFE?

I started to feel anger bubble in my chest.

Well, if that’s how it’s going to be, the next time he asks for sex I’m totally going mmmmmm in a noncommittal tone to see how HE likes being mmmmmed.

“I’m sick,” I tried again. “My head hearts, I can’t breathe properly and I didn’t even eat BREAKFAST!”

Surely this would alert him. He knows I love to eat. I practically do a happy dance when it’s lunchtime.

“I’m sorry. Did you take some Tylenol?” Tom said, still obviously distracted.

That’s it? THAT’S IT? Did I take some Tylenol? Where are my sympathies?

“I feel like I’m about to pass out! ” I said dramatically.

“Take some Tylenol,” is all Tom said.

That’s his answer to everything.

“Okay, well, I’m going to try and get some sleep,” I said, irritated.

I expected him to say something like, “No wait, I’m sorry! I hate that you’re sick. My heart aches to know that you are in pain!”

Instead he said, “Okay. Bye!”

I married an ass.

“Asshole!” I hissed into the phone.

I thought Tom had already hung up but he didn’t.

“Huh?” he went.

Ooops.

“Oh! Nothing. Have a great day!” I said lightly and then hung up.

Then I rolled over to get some sleep. But I couldn’t get the conversation out of my mind. Shame on Tom for not worrying about me! The mother of his children!

I sat up in bed and reached for the phone. He was not going to get away with this. I dialed the number angrily and when he picked up I burst in with,

“Don’t say a word! You hear me out. When your wife calls and says that she’s sick, you don’t just go mmmmmm. It’s rude and it makes it seem like you don’t care. I deserve better! I deserve to be asked if I’m okay! Do you understand?”

There was a silence.

Good.

It means Tom is thinking over his poor behavior.

But then I heard an unfamiliar deep voice go, “Um. Who IS this?”

Huh?

I pulled the phone from my ear and looked at the display.

That’s when I realized that I had dialed the wrong number.

“I’m sorry. Wrong number,” I quickly muttered and then hung up.

I wonder what that poor guy was thinking. If he wasn’t married I can almost bet he’s never going to be after getting an earful like that. The poor guy is probably like, “Okay, if THAT’S what it’s like to be married then forget it!”

You know how you’re warned never to drunk dial?

That same rule applies when you’re sick.

Don’t sick dial, either.