Avoiding the Sitter

Remember how when you used to babysit as a preteen or a teenager, you’d pray to God that the mom would be the one to chit chat with you at the end of the night instead of the dad?  And didn’t it totally blow chunks to get stuck with a creepy middle-aged man yapping on and on and on about the damn weather?  And did you not absolutely dread having the dad offer to walk or, heaven forbid, DRIVE you home?  Yeah, me too, and upon recent reflection, I realize that I have become a total freaking hypocrite in my own adult years, since I usually make my husband do all the talking to the babysitter when we return home from an evening out.  (Not that I’m calling my husband a creepy, middle-aged man or anything….)

Now, don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I don’t WANT to talk to the sitter — cause we all know how much I love to shoot the shit.  It’s just that I don’t particularly want the teenage offspring of all our neighbors to know that Mrs. Nucking Futs has been throwing back the vino.  I can’t help it, but I get paranoid that my words are gonna come out all slurred and that I’ll end up looking like a lush, whether I’ve had one glass of wine or 50.  (What? You don’t drink wine when you get the chance to escape YOUR children for an evening?!)  I’ve even been known to come right in the front door and march straight up the front staircase without so much as saying even one word.  The poor sitters are then left to force themselves to smile and laugh at all the smart ass jokes my hubby tries to crack with them.

I also prefer that I not be the one to write the check to compensate the sitter, since my late-night math skills are not what they used to be.  I’m quite certain that I’ve overpaid on more than one occasion.  (Perhaps this is why the girls in our hood like to babysit for us???)  I REALLY outdid myself the other night, though, when I made the check out to a girl who wasn’t even sitting for us.  Yep, my stupidity/tipsyness was on full display, and I didn’t even realize my mistake until my neighbor across the street called me out on it two days later.

I was carrying in groceries from the car when I heard someone say, “You must’ve REALLY had fun at the Blackhawks game the other night!!!”  Turns out that my dumb ass had written the check to this woman’s daughter who wasn’t even the one who’d babysat for us on the night in question!  And God only knows how much I paid this girl for services that I hadn’t even rendered!  (In my defense though, we had gone to the first game of the Stanley Cup Finals with some clients from my husband’s work who kept shoving beers in our hands left and right.  And I couldn’t very well offend them by declining their generous offers, now could I?!  So I guess you could say I was pretty “pucking” loopy by the time we got home from the game.  Clearly, I had no business doing multiplication at that point.)

Needless to say, it’s probably best for my husband to be the one to do the final wrap-up with the sitters from now on.  I can totally understand now why so many of the families I babysat for back in the day did this.  Looking back, it all makes perfect sense to me.  The bottom line?  Don’t drink and talk to sitters.

Ten Things That Make Me Happy

So you may or may not know that I generally HATE it when people send me chain letters that I’m supposed to forward on to ten people immediately or suffer the lightning bolt that’s sure to strike me down. I mean, for shit’s sakes, I already have enough to worry about without wondering when God’s gonna plow me over with a fleet of semis when I least expect it! However, I was recently “tagged” by my friend @jterzieff on Twitter to share ten things that make me happy, and I was surprisingly interested in playing along. So, here goes:

1. A clean house — Lame? Perhaps, but you have to understand that my house is truly clean maybe twice a month and that’s as soon as my cleaning ladies shut the door behind them. The floors are sparkly, the toilet seats are free of piss splatters, I can actually see my kitchen countertops, and everybody’s crap is shoved into their perspective corners. All is right with the world…at least until the dog chews up the rug, the hubby piles up six pairs of shoes in the foyer, and the kids shoot Nerf bullets all over the damn dining room.

2. A prompt Thursday delivery of my Us magazine — So, yeah, maybe I don’t always know the state of the union or how much the Dow rose, but by gosh, I can certainly tell you “Who Wore It Best” on most weekends if my stinkin’ magazine arrives in a timely fashion. And since my children prevent me from EVER finishing a frickin’ article in one sitting, it tends to take me at least an entire weekend to get through an issue. So, a Thursday arrival is totally key.

3. Sleeping in when it rains — Ok, so maybe this is just a pipe dream of mine since we all know that being a parent makes it impossible to EVER sleep in, whether it’s raining or not, but the tiny sliver of memory that I do still have left in my brain tells me that this once made me VERY happy.

4. Wine — Settle down now. There’s no need to go contacting that A&E “Intervention” show or anything. I just so happen to totally dig smashed grapes, so sue me. I have a feeling that in another life I lived on a vineyard.

5. Holding my kids’ hands — I know that soon enough they’re gonna be ordering me to pick them up a mile away to avoid being seen with me, so I cherish every single moment that I get to nestle their little hands in mine. Pure and simple bliss.

6. A parking meter with time still left on it — It’s a total pain in the ass to dig through my black hole of a purse to try and locate some spare change among all the damn Legos, Polly Pockets, and granola bars, so finding a meter that has a spare ten minutes on it is like barely making a green light for this lady.

7. Working out — Breaking a sweat is both physically and mentally good for me. It’s either that or I’m forced to open up a can of Whoop Ass on the entire world around me, and I just really don’t think the neighbors would go for that.

8. Professional massages — When I don’t have to bribe my kids with a quarter to rub my back or nudge my nodding off hubby to knead my aching shoulders, it’s all good in the hood. Hell, I don’t even need a flippin’ happy ending or anything — I just need someone to stay awake while they’re rubbing me down.

9. “Modern Family” — Don’t tell me you haven’t seen this show! It’s absolutely hysterical! And there really aren’t that many funny sitcoms left on t.v. these days, in my opinion, so finding one that has SUCH good writing is like coming across a diamond in the rough. Life is a whole lot more bearable if you can laugh your way through it.

10. Finishing this list — My brain is tired, people! Too much thinking can be dangerous to your health — at least to mine anyway.

** I’m supposed to pass this on to ten other bloggers who I think will play along, which I’m hesitant to do since I’m not a big fan of death threats. That being said, here are just a few who I hope will humor me (or at least go easy on me when they kill me):

Why Is Daddy Crying

Hoo-dee-Hoo

Sex and the Single Dad

Angry Working Mom

Loulou’s Views

Things I’ve Learned This Week

** My husband is having an affair……..with his new iPad.

** Drinking a whole vineyard of grapes the night before boot camp is not a wise idea.

** My life was not complete until I found the “Marilyn” round boar brush (from Ulta 3) and the Laura Mercier eyelash curler.

** I could totally be a nudist.

** Words cannot describe just how tired I really am.

** Bret Michaels is one lucky SOB who wears bandanas even in a damn hospital bed.

** My son can survive without the Wii for 3 whole days without needing therapy or suffering any long-lasting emotional scars.

** Two words that mean absolutely nothing to anyone around here are “it’s” and “bedtime“.

** The world’s smallest bladder belongs to yours truly.

** Stupid people do not belong in a drive-thru line.

** If actions speak louder than words, then my kids are saying I’m their slave.

** My to-do list is taking human growth hormones.

** Betty White should totally come to hot yoga with me sometime.

** Buying new watches for the kids has provided them a tool to tell me just how late we are for everything.

** Every girl’s crazy ’bout a sharp dressed man.

** Flinstone vitamins are still bad-ass.

** It’s impossible to remember that you’re out of soap until you’re dripping wet in the shower.

** My mom was right. Life really isn’t fair.

** Father Time needs to lay off the fast-forward button so I can catch my breath for a second.

** I could never hack it as a cave woman.

** Despite what I might think, God does not give me more than I can handle.

WHAT DID YOU LEARN THIS WEEK?????

I’m Thankful For…

     Since I figure that most people will be too busy stuffing their faces with turkey to read my little old blog tomorrow, I decided to do my appreciation post today and take the day off to gorge myself alongside the rest of the country manana.  So, without further ado, here are some things for which I am grateful:

  • I’m thankful for any shower I can take where a short person doesn’t come in and ask me about my boobs.
  • I’m thankful for wine and its magical abilities to calm my very last nerve at the end of the day.
  • I’m thankful for thongs that stay in their intended place.
  • I’m thankful for the inventor of the dog crate.
  • I’m thankful for makeup so I can hide the dark circles under my eyes on those rare days that I have the energy to put it on.
  • I’m thankful for any time I can sit down to pee without all hell breaking loose outside the bathroom door.
  • I’m thankful for copious amounts of caffeine that get me through my day.
  • I’m thankful for duct tape…I have twins — enough said.
  • I’m thankful for car trips where I can finally listen to something other than Kidz Bop.
  • I’m thankful for stupid, mindless reality t.v. shows that make me feel so much better about my own lot in life.
  • I’m thankful for individually packaged bags of Goldfish.
  • I’m thankful for people who remember to flush the toilet in our house (the shit-eating dog isn’t so thankful for this).
  • I’m thankful for wine…oh, whoops!  I already said that, didn’t I?!  (It’s obviously really important to me.)
  • I’m thankful for Twitter where I can go to bitch and moan 24 hours a day, seven days a week.
  • I’m thankful for that 8:50 a.m. bell at my kids’ school, bless its little heart.
  • I’m thankful for the ass massager lady who knows just how to loosen up my kadunkadunk.
  • I’m thankful that my true friends overlook the dust on my blinds.
  • I’m thankful for pavement and being able to pound the shit out of it when I need to relieve stress.
  • I’m thankful for candles that camouflage the putrid smell of dog farts in the air.
  • I’m thankful that my kids believe pretty much everything I tell them.
  • I’m thankful for my closet where I go to hide when I need to make an important phone call.
  • I’m thankful for silence, even though I’ve completely forgotten what it sounds like.
  • But most importantly, I’m thankful for my friends, for my health, and especially for my family who I love with all my heart.

Put A Cork In It

corks   

     It is certainly not uncommon for kids to collect things — Matchbox cars, Webkinz, Pokemon cards, etc.  My son, however, collects wine corks!  I can’t really even remember when the fascination all started, but he absolutely loves them.  He keeps them in a special keepsake box that I got as a gift when I was pregnant.  You’re really supposed to put pictures and baby memorabilia in it, but, instead, it is stuffed full of corks!  

     I’m sure that he easily has over 200 different corks in his collection by now.  And just to be clear, they are not all from me!  I do love my wine, but my son has both my parents and my mother-in-law saving corks for him, as well.  He even tries to nab them from other people’s houses, too.  Over this past weekend at holiday BBQ’s, I caught him retrieving a few out of our friends’ trash cans!   

     I am constantly finding these corks scattered throughout our house, too. My son often forgets to put them in his special box and sets them on the kitchen table or on the coffee table.  They end up rolling onto the floor, only to later be discovered by the vacuum under the sofa.  Sometimes they even end up in my shoes — my daughter thinks it’s hilarious when I try to slip my shoe on, only to be blocked by a cork in the toe.

     I keep asking my son what it is that he ultimately intends to do with all of his corks.  I’ve suggested making a picture frame or a shadow box with them, but he somehow has it in his head that he’s going to build a floor to ceiling sculpture with them.  Who knows — maybe someday it’ll be proudly displayed at the MOMA, and we’ll all be popping a Dom Perignon cork to celebrate….