Brain Barf

May contain traces of nuts.

Tuesday, June 19, 2007

Some Woo.

  • I did mitigate my *&%$@# traffic ticket, and got a "continuance." If I don't get another ticket in a years time, it will be expunged. Woo!
  • Expunged is my new favorite word. Woo!
  • My baby sister IS having a boy, as I predicted. His name is Sam and we plan to welcome him on October 10th. If he is anything like my kids, he'll be very late to the party. Woo!
  • This past weekend my oldest daughters tournament softball team took second place, my younger daughters team didn't play. The previous weekend, my eldests team took third and my youngest team won the entire tournament. Large Woo!
  • My itsy bitsy baby boys turn eight this weekend. I plan to expunge (expunge count: 3, wait 4) June 23rd from the calendar, because my babies growing up is just rude. No Woo.
  • I had a mature moment, and decided to call my Father on Fathers Day, but did a happy little jig when I got the answering machine and didn't have to actually talk to him. Woo, guilt free pass!
  • Woo!
  • Except for the non WOO'S that the blogger world is sick of me blogging about.


Friday, June 08, 2007

Break the window, burn the soufflé, scream a lullaby

I'm so w e a r y.
I'm so tired of being a single parent.
I work all day and my husband works all night.
Every game/practice, boo boo, meeting, meltdown, homework, sibling argument etc. is my 100% responsibility to figure out.

Then the weekend comes and my husband and I head off in different directions.
Not very conducive to happy marital relations. Another entire issue that weighs heavy.
So much so that my husband has applied to a new job that would mean him leaving the company he has worked for, for twelve years...singularly because it would be a day shift.

I've leaned harder (I loathe asking for help LOATHE) on my sister than anyone ever before. She has really stepped up, and is awesome, and I love her and need to find a way to say those words better so she really hears and understands how much I really feel and appreciate her.
Take tonight for example, my oldest daughter had practice in a town 1/2 hour away, my boys had a home game and my younger daughter had a home game but on a different field.
This is pretty standard.
I haven't even figured out tomorrow, where I have to work in the evening and both of my girls have practices in the 1/2 an hour away town, and my boys have a home game.

Joe in Vegas and another one of my sisters questioned why?
Why indeed?
Because I'm the one who pretty much BIRTHED them and brought them into this world.
Each of my children is only involved in one sport (OK fine, multiple teams yes).
Other than softball/baseball, my daughters are only involved in band.
Not much else, praise Buddha.
But, this is the only childhood they get.
No do overs.
I have no regrets, but I do feel stretched a little too thin sometimes.
So I stay up way too late and whine on my blog and post Carly Simon lyrics.

Baby sneezes
Mommy pleases
Daddy breezes in
So good on paper
So romantic
So bewildering
I know nothin' stays the same

But if you're willin' to play the game
It's comin' around again
So don't mind if I fall apart
There's more room in a broken heart
Pay the grocer

You fix the toaster
You kiss the host goodbye
Then you break a window
Burn the soufflé
Scream the lullaby

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Thursday, June 07, 2007

One time at band camp...

When we got home tonight after another softball game, my boys were and had been bored out of their minds for hours.
It's a lovely side benefit of the family living on baseball/softball fields.
They started digging around in the entertainment center for a video to watch.
(Because, NO homework! School is out in two days!)
We don't have TV programming, (7+ years Whoo!), so the offspring have seen most every video/DVD we own 48.3 bazillion times.
The boys must have been really desperate, so they dug deep and found a home video of me in one of my glorious high school marching band competitions and popped it in the VCR.

Back story: growing up Mormon, piano lessons/musical instrument playing was mandatory.
I've never reacted well to "mandatory" (number of monthly mandatory staff meetings that I have attended in almost seven years? Two.)
Anyway, after years of piano lessons, and many grey hairs (um..sorry) given to my instructors, my parents finally had mercy on them and let me quit.
But when I went into high school, they insisted that I be in the band.
So I played the drums.
Because that's about as edgy as you can get in band.
It turned out to be the only reason I kept attending high school.
Also, behind the band semi-trailer was a great place to hide and smoke pot.
But I rocked the whole mandatory band gig.
In fact when I was a Junior, my percussion instructor from the UofU was hooking me up with a full ride percussion scholarship.
I fucked that up...literally, when I got pregnant and dropped out.

I never forced my girls be in band, they chose to, maybe because of my constant piano playing and my positive band stories.
The oldest daughter, the Freshman, lettered in band tonight. Three times.
She plays the tenor sax for jazz band, solo ensemble and the tuba (every young girls dream instrument? Hee!) for symphonic band.
My younger daughter is in sixth grade and is the first chair trumpet.

The moral of the story: I had a very poignant life lesson in store, but I forgot it?
But, it was fun to watch that vintage video, and band geeks UNITE!


Wednesday, June 06, 2007

Unworthy Exmormon

I'm a fifth generation Mormon (ex/former/resistant strain?) and was raised in Utah with ultra TBM parents with plenty of extreme rules.
My Great Grandfather x-five, was Brigham Young's right hand man.
That's my Mormon heritage history moment for the evening. There will be a test on this and please hand your papers to the left.

I remember being very young and sharing a room (we had the huge mandatory Mormon house with PLENTY of rooms, but according to the Father, sharing rooms built character) with my oldest sister.
I have vivid memories of her kneeling down every night to pray and then reading her scriptures before going to sleep...and feeling, I don't know the right word, surprised? Curious?
Somehow though, as a child, I never felt like I was the one who was confused/flawed.
It just was never my thing.
Only once, when I was sixteen, and had just had a baby, did I truly *try* to believe and conform.
But with a huge push of a warped former young women's leaders comments towards me and my "illegitimate" baby about how we "darkened" the place, is was thankfully a very short stage.

Um, wait, what was the point of this post?
Oh yes, I have never felt the need to resign from the Morg (Slang for: Mormon Organization/Morgue. Also see "Borg" in reference to Star Trek).
I feel that in doing so, it legitimates and/or that I would be submitting to some fucked up cults made up Monopoly rules.
Mormonism or ExMormonism has just never been that important to me.

I think the point is coming here soon, maybe? Today sometime?

I frequent a few ExMormon boards, mostly because Mormonism, regardless, is a huge part of my herstory. I enjoy conversing with people with whom I share a common background.
But sometimes, in this exmormon community, it seems that I just didn't suffer enough.
I didn't ever have to ritually disembowel myself in the Temple.
I never had to endure the nylon magic underwear in 115 degree Utah temperatures.
My opinion isn't backed by years of misery.
Etc. Etc. Etc.
I'm an unworthy exmormon.
Sheesh, I just can't win.


Tuesday, June 05, 2007

You'll be SO glad you read this...

I have a resident/patient that is progressing through the stages of dementia faster than I have ever witnessed in my seven+ years as a nurses aid.
She is a very difficult haughty socialite and former alcoholic, now in her eighties.
We may just have to draw straws to see who will have to go out and buy her a dildo.
For her own safety...and believe it or not, a part of our responsibilities is "facilitating" these "needs."
Empty toilet paper rolls just aren't working, and have caused issues that I'm QUITE sure you would rather I not expound on.

I hope I'm not working the night they serve hot dogs for dinner.


Monday, June 04, 2007

Stronger than the monster beneath your bed

I asked my Grandma one time, when I was still young enough to believe that the world revolved around me, who she loved the most.
She lived with us at the time, and I thought I knew the answer, or why would I ask?
She told me, that she loved all of us equally but focused her love on whoever needed it the most at the time.
Not the answer I was looking for, and didn't give me anything to taunt my siblings with.
It took me a few years to understand that PEARL of wisdom (my beloved G-Ma name is Pearl <3)>with her Masters Degree, and her husband is, IMHO, an all around ass and hasn't ever or is unable to just fucking step up already.
My baby brother is moving to Australia as soon as our sister's baby is born, but it will leave him homeless for a few months because his house has already sold (queue guest house music here).
I haven't talked to my two foster sisters for quite awhile, and frankly, I'm afraid to call.
And somehow, I'm the sibling that is doing OK...and I'm glad I have Vonage and free weekend minutes on my cell phone.
We all gave up on our "parents" years ago, but we have each other, and that is more than enough.

  • The new job is good, although I have dress code issues.
  • Pheebs, I will send you a Joost invite as soon as I figure out how to do so.