Tag Archives: single parent

Thankfully, I’ll be the one with the camera.

In the morning, I’m hitting the road, heading to an annual overnight “retreat” at a mountain resort with our Board of Directors. Loosely translated, “work all day and watch grown men and women act like total idiots at the bar all night.” This is the one guaranteed night each year MP has a sleepover at Grammy and Poppy’s — they have fun, I have fun, it’s all good. The resort is about an hour away though, and thinking about it makes me miss her already. I know, I know …

So, I’m charging the camera as I type. If I’m lucky I’ll come home with some blog-worthy photos. I’d post some from last year to give you an idea of what’s in store but I swore to delete anything incriminating. Which means … I got nothin’. This year, who knows. Back in the 90s, I saw Glenn Close in the restaurant. She looked remarkably like a regular person. Which totally didn’t stop me from telling everyone I knew I rubbed elbows (literally) with the Fatal Attraction chick. What I wouldn’t give to have gotten a picture of her eating a rabbit dinner …

Oh, and did you notice how I’ve already blown the NaBloPoMo thing? That was quick. Now I just have to break the news to the Teletubbies. Po will be devastated. I however, will not.

Okay, I’m exhausted. I’m taking a chance and leaving the packing ’til morning. Which is probably a really bad idea, but the lids, they are heavy ma Doogs.

See you in a few days!

8 Comments

Filed under Piecemeal

Newsflash!

This just in.

elmoflash

Elmo’s a perv.

P.S. Thanks QB for makin’ my day.

17 Comments

Filed under Bits and Pieces

Howling at the moon and other country activities.

It happened last year and it’s happening again. A week before Halloween and MP’s waffling. Just a few weeks ago she was PSYCHED to be Bat Girl. Her costume is seriously kick ass.

And suddenly, now she wants to be a werewolf.

I have no idea who or what is responsible for planting this thought. Who knows what crazy randomness lurks in the mind of a 4 1/2 year old? I suspect MP’s brain looks something like a Froot Loop strewn McDonald’s PlayLand. With toy catalogs and lots of Chapstick and Spongebob serving ice cream. Surprisingly, it appears to be a place where mythical hairy monsters aren’t so scary afterall. Mean foxes and dinosaurs on the other hand … THOSE are the things nightmares are made of.

(At least lately.)

So, the whole werewolf thing has spurred kind of a crazy routine.

(At least lately.)

We howl at the moon.

We don’t just stick our heads out the door and give a couple ‘owwws.’ We go out on the lawn, get down on all fours, throw our heads back and HOWL Baby.

I can’t take credit for THIS particular crazy idea. This one’s all MP’s. A few nights this week, I’ve put her to bed without howling, only to have her tiptoe out to the livingroom in her footie PJs.

“Mommy, we forgot to howl at the moon.”

So we bundle up in our coats and winter hats (yes, we have SNOW) and run out to the yard. And as off-the-wall as it sounds, I think it’s actually empowered her a bit, and made her a little less fearful of the night.

Living in the country has its advantages.

We just don’t do it on Fridays. That’s when the ‘neighbors’ get naked and climb into their teepee sweatlodge. This is also a new development. I’m SO not kidding.

At any rate, I’m still pushin’ Bat Girl. As much as I love the whole wolf vibe, I have NO idea how to make a werewolf costume.

16 Comments

Filed under Pieceful Night's Sleep

Can’t we all just get along?

Things in my office have been a little tense lately. I work with five women and one man, Conservaboss. (I think it’s about time for more BO bumper stickers …) I’ve worked with TONS of women before and NEVER experienced the catty, nosy, jealous, backstabbing BS that goes on in my office nearly every day. Seriously. Women are absolutely ridiculous. I don’t know how lesbians do it.

In all honesty, it really comes down to just a few bad apples who get off on trading negativity almost as much as two hormonal teenagers swapping spit. And I’ve learned the best way to avoid being peppered with the BS is to stay buried in my office.

Until Monday.

Remember my Social Media Presentation last week? On Monday, one of the Apples (who takes great joy in finding fault with me, my ideas, my work, etc.) rolled into my office, sat down, and gave a backhanded compliment before tearing it apart.

And I lost my shit.

Just thinking about it exhausts me. Needless to say, when the smoke cleared and all was said and done, I felt like a weight had been lifted. I was completely honest. And it was completely harsh. But 100% deserved.

What it comes down to is this. I would love nothing more than to spend each day with MP. Being the sole bread-earner, that’s not a possibility right now. But if I can’t be with her, I damn well better like the people I DO spend time with. Because thinking that I spend more hours each day with a few downright nasty beyotches than I do with my daughter makes me angry.

So tomorrow, the entire staff will be going on our annual day-long “retreat.” Which really just means we go somewhere, recap the past year and talk about plans for the next. AWESOME timing. Should be a BLAST.

I’ve decided to take the high road however, and attempt to be a uniter.

I’ll be passing out Pop Rocks and Diet Pepsi. If THAT doesn’t get a laugh, I’ll be throwing in the proverbial towel and heading to an ashram somewhere in India.

25 Comments

Filed under Piece of My Mind

But it kills 99.9% of bacteria in 15 seconds …

MP and I have been fighting off colds for a few days now. I am the color of cream of celery soup. MP is ASKING to go straight to bed after dinner. Somethin’ ain’t right, and I don’t understand it.

Especially in light of the fact we’ve been wiping our hands and faces with THESE bad boys.

Which, in my defense, look suspiciously similar to THESE.

But, to cut costs, I went the Tarzhay brand way, bought the generic, left them in the car, and have been using them on MP and myself every day for the past few weeks. Only after a few days of using them as Kleenex and blowing my NOSE into them, did I notice they left my membranes horribly dry. Drippy, but dry. And smelling like an institution.

Upon closer inspection …

Which I failed to notice. The only thing I saw was:

Kills the common flu virus!

Kills 99.9% of bacteria in 15 seconds!

Alcohol-free!

Bleach-free!

Crap. I guess this means disinfecting the dog’s poo-face is out of the question.

I’m goin’ to bed.

33 Comments

Filed under Confessional

It’s all about the little things.

Five million things on my mind, and unable to place any of them into on coherent post, so I’m going with the piecemeal theme this morning.

First, I need to say I’ve been totally consumed with vampires, thanks to the combination of my new favorite show True Blood on HBO and the Tweeple’s suggestion I read the latest hot novel, Twilight. Finding it in the Young Readers section at the bookstore left me a leettle worried and wondering just WHO you people are. I almost passed. I was skeptical at first, but ultimately, I trust the Doogs, because I do know you’re a bunch of smart cookies, and gotta say … lovin’ it so far.

Now I want a vampire lover. (Methinks I smell a post brewin’ …)

And since I got nothin’, I’ll leave you with these little time capsule nuggets.

Notable Moments in Pie Town Last Week

Dropping MP off at preschool, she looks up at me, and holding her stomach says, “My tummy hurts.”

A four-year-old classmate, sitting nearby, looks up at me, and holding his crotch says, “My balls hurt.”

MP stripped nekkid and on her way to the bath, catches a glimpse of herself in the bathroom’s full-size mirror, stops, poses and says admiringly,

“Humina, humina, hhhumina.”

MP speeding down the front walk on her pink and purple HotWheel.

ME: (yelling from the front step) Be careful, crazy driver!

MP: (screeching to a halt in front of me) You don’t need a license to drrrive a sandwich.

Aw. My little Spongebob.

16 Comments

Filed under Bits and Pieces

Put it on your list and maybe Santa will bring it.

MP has joined Amway. And while Sarah Palin may be making political history, MP’s making a little history of her own, becoming the youngest sales rep in the history of the organization.

Today when I picked her up at preschool, I found her seated at a table, going through the latest catalog with her classmates and encouraging them to “Think Globally, Act Locally.” And the kids were LISTENING. Hanging on her every word, even. Which TOTALLY blew me away until closer observation revealed they were, in fact, mostly interested in a boy named Jermaine’s elbow scab. Or more accurately, Jermaine’s Scooby Doo BandAid.

When MP spotted me, she stood up and asked if I had change for a twenty. Dazed and confused, I dug into my pockets, barely mustering a weak,”I don’t think …” before she disappeared into the kitchen and promptly returned wheeling a Radio Flyer wagon full of product.

A few teachers began writing checks. Some kid was telling another kid how much his mom loved Amway detergent.

All the way home, it was “Diamond Level” this, “Diamond Level” that. Apparently I’m having a few potential recruits over this weekend. MP says if they join, eventually it’ll boost her numbers. And then we get to go on a cruise!

*drums fingers on table*

Okay, not really. But she DOES have the trademark “visualize what you want” concept down.

Here’s my door.

Here’s her door.

The elbow scab part though? Totally true.

Except the name. Jermaine.

His real name is Tito.

15 Comments

Filed under Piecing it Together

It’s raining men. And I want to crawl under my desk.

I don’t know WHAT the hell’s goin’ on but the past few weeks there’s been a run on fix-ups in Pie Town. Apparently, someone designated it Mommypie Needs A Date month.

Which has led me to declare it Mommypie Is A Stress Case month.

Because Mommypie doesn’t really WANT a date. At least not at this juncture. And you better believe that KILLS my mother.

The first guy is a local attorney, 10 years my senior. I’ve met him a few times before at work functions. Nice enough. He ran for a judge seat last year, and lost. His chosen political party is … not mine. And being older and pickier (meaning that “they like me” is no longer a good enough reason to date someone), all the above could easily be enough to rule him out.

But ACW (Another Co-Worker) mentioned she saw a large tattoo on his lower leg at our recent golf tourney, so, I agreed to meet him for lunch Tuesday. Or Wednesday. I can’t remember, but I wrote it down. And I’m DREADING it. Because, while I don’t want to rule anything out, I don’t want to waste anyone’s time either. I’m going to try to go into it with an open mind. It’s just lunch right? RIGHT??

The other guy is a baseball scout, also about 10 years older than me. Definitely scoring higher on the cool job scale, if that counts for anything. He doesn’t live in this state, but travels here frequently. I have NO idea what he looks like. He’s sent two emails. I sent one, somewhat terse, “nice to meet you” email. He wants to get together later this month when he’s in town. I haven’t answered.

Argh. I AM totally grateful for such wonderful friends who care so much about my happiness. I find it funny that in this case, the two doing the setting up were two GUYS. And I know I’m a little unconventional. But I love the life MP and I have. Just the two of us.

And now, I want to hide. I want to crawl under my desk and hide. Which I’ve actually done on more than one occasion. Just out of college, I was working two jobs to make ends meet — a 9 to 5 job all day while waiting tables all night. I was exhausted. For awhile there, I’d actually crawl under my desk, lie down and sleep when my bosses were at lunch. I kept a pillow in my office and everything. Okay, a seat cushion, but still. Remember the Seinfeld episode where George slept under his desk at work? That was totally me.

Which sounds so much better than a lunch date small talk torture session. Hep me Rhonda.

32 Comments

Filed under No Piece

Pay no attention to the drunk preschooler.

Co-worker: Did you get my birthday party invitation?

Me: Yeah, I just opened the email.

CW: Just a head’s up — if you want, you can bring MP, but we have animals. Lotsa fur flyin’. So, if she’s allergic …

Me: Oh, she should be fine. Fur’s not the big problem. It’s mostly the lickers.

(blank stare)

Me: She gets hives.

(pause)

CW: Um … how do you … know she’s allergic to alcohol?

Me: Wha?

(pause)

CW: Oooooh, I get it. LICKERS.

Me: Yeah … dogs that lick …

(pause)

(pause)

Me: DUDE. Not LIQUOR. LICKER. CK.

CW: Cool. Cleo’s not a licker. She’s a poo-eater.

Me: Excellent.

(pause)

Me: That’s SO going on the blog.

CW: Yeah.

28 Comments

Filed under Piecing it Together

The cut that’ll sweep the doggie fashion world.

So, the dog.

I have to admit, she’s making it hard not to fall in love with her.

I’ll ALSO admit, however, I’m definitely struggling with some OCD madness. I can’t stop fixating on the food that gets stuck in the long fur around her mouth. Or the white fur that’s gradually becoming stained below her chin. When she poos, all I think about is that long fur. Don’t even try to convince me the poo don’t stick. There’s got to be some transference goin’ on. And that her fur is turning more and more yellow each time she pees? Seriously. I got issues.

I think I’ll take her to the groomer. And ask for the Orifice Cut. High and tight around the mouth, peehole and butthole. That way there’s no opportunity for fur to harbor any kind of … crap. Which is then tracked into the house. All over the carpet. And up on MP’s bed.

You have to understand. I don’t even allow shoes to be worn in the house. It’s just way too gross for me. And now all I can think of are the millions of minute turd particles that are tracked in every time the dog does her bidness.

You don’t have to tell me I’m a freak. I’m WELL aware of my ridiculousness. I’m just hoping eventually I’ll get over it. I’m really trying. Because Rosie IS sweet. And MP loves her with the passion of an only child.

And there are some killer dog toys out there.

Seriously. I’m trying.

25 Comments

Filed under Piece of My Mind