I got a job.  I GOT a job.  I got a JOB!  I.  Got.  A.  Job.

Yep… I’m workin’.

After being a SAHM for about 15 years (OMGosh, am I really old enough to say that?!).  Fifteen years as a SAHM?  Wait, let me count.  Yes.  Anyway, let’s move on.  Last year I was able, for the first time in my LIFE, to drop all three of my children off at school.  ALL. DAY.  The feeling was mind-blowing.  After being in the company of at least one child for 15 years and now suddenly, to be all alone !

You’d think I’d arrived in SAHM utopia.  I went to thrift shops, did grocery shopping, went to the library.  Read a book!  I actually had a couple scares walking thru a store and suddenly realizing I was alone, my heart would stop as I remembered the kids were in school, not stuck in the car!

BUT, when my husband and kids would get home, I had no excuses for the messy house and no dinner.  Hubby would ask what I had done all day and I no longer had the kid to blame it on!  I played all day.  I was irresponsible with my new-found freedom!  I was frolicking.

So, I cleaned (kinda).  I planned meals (sorta).  I sat down and realized I needed a better excuse if I was ever going to get out of this new way of life.

And really, the perfect job opened up.

I would be working with kids (of course).

36 of them to be exact.  I am now the kindergarten aide at my kids’ school.  In the mornings we all go to school together, and at the end of the day we all come home together.  The house is a mess and meals are sporadic, but that’s how I roll.

I am thankful for that time ‘off’, and even though it was great to get rid of my brood, I actually kinda missed them, and I wouldn’t want to work anywhere else!

My purse isn’t as big and bad as most moms who carry enough stuff for every situation.  I don’t even carry a spare maxi pad.  Clearly I’m not prepared for anything and I don’t take life seriously!  So what is in my purse?

Necessary things…like…driver’s license.  I am  a registered and competent driver of the state of CA (must be true, I have the proof).

My keys, which I finally found after a week of using the spare set.  They were in my trunk!  Don’t ask.

A coupon for  free shaving cream..expired.

Lots of tissues, mostly used.  ew.

Chapstick…my drug of choice.

Craft idea torn out of doctor’s office magazine.  I impressed my son when I said, “This ain’t ours but I’m takin‘ it anyway!”  He could hardly stifle his giddy laugh as the doctor came in…

Checkbook (but who writes checks)…

Various discount cards and reminder cards.

Juice -it-up…I may be out without the kids one day..and may treat myself.  Let’s hope it happens before the end of the year when the whole book expires!

Dead dandelion…proof of child’s love for me.

Trail mix (expired)…I really want to make good snacking choices when I’m out, but after being in my purse for 3 months time to throw this sucka away.  Why kid myself..I don’t even like it.

So,  my purse clearly shows, I have a runny nose, dry lips, missing out on the deals and not health conscious!   But I am loved!

I really can’t say much, I signed a contract stating I wouldn’t talk about it, tweet about it, blog about it, blah, blah, blah..

We filled out an application, sent in pictures (I guess to make sure we didn’t have three eyes and had all our teeth), and waited.  The next day were given our reservation confirmation and advised we were NOT guaranteed a meal, and a light snack would be a good idea before heading over.

The night arrived and before heading into LA, we stopped at Roadhouse for a ‘light’ lunch, ended up eating way too much and headed on our happy way.

Once there, checked in smoothly, turned in signed contract and entered a waiting room with fruit and cheese platters.  More food, more drink.

I was impressed with how smoothly the night ran.  Everyone was extremely nice, very funny and easy to talk to.  Great experience!

Although, I was a bit disappointed that I couldn’t eat my meal!  I was SO stuffed from all the eating I had done earlier that I could only take a few bites of my wonderful meal which was served!

I can’t say any more, but watch for us this coming season – we are on episode 11!

Until…One morning I came downstairs to find a disturbing sight:

The house was silent, and there, was your arm.  No longer attached to your body.  It’s ok, I told myself I could just sew it back on…just like in the movie!

And then:

The rest of you.  Well…. almost,  there were your legs and other arm.  No more stuffing, no more head.

And I saw him:

Our newest addition to the family.

You had always been worried about new toys.   (Last scene of Toy Story 2:  Christmas, Woody asks Buzz what could possibly be worse than him.  In the distance we hear, “Bark!  Bark!”)  I saw the worry in your face.

Now I know why.

I’m sorry, Woody.

When I showed the kids, they laughed.

I guess life doesn’t turn out just like the movie!

But my junk drawer has spiraled out of control!

Our ‘cabinet making’ cousin installed 2 huge pullout drawers that hid nicely behind cabinet doors.  They’re in the kitchen, and I had nothing destined for those drawers..nothing!  So that meant everything that didn’t have a place, ended up there!

Books, homework, paper, paint, tax papers, jury duty notices, craft supplies, glue sticks, board games..to name a few..all covered in a fine dusting of glitter.

It was not only bulging out of he cabinet doors, it was rapidly claiming the counter-top for itself also.

Have you ever seen the old 70′s movie ‘The Blob”…?  Where it starts out small and harmless, but soon that fly lands on it and is eaten, so it starts growing.  Pretty soon it’s slowly devouring everything, as it grows to an enormous monster.  That is my junk drawer.

I had to tackle it before it claimed one of my children, or my poor dog.

"FEED MEEE!"

I had even been avoiding making eye contact with it.  The morning coffee was always a bit stressful.

 

Doesn't look so bad? That pile has to be 4 inches high!

 I waited until my kids were at school, and I attacked.  I vaguely remember screaming, “I will not be featured on “Hoarders:  Buried Alive!”

 I threw away dozens of kindergarten crafts my son had brought home this year.  I didn’t even let guilt stop me!  Why SO MANY crafts?

I almost threw away a book, Alfred Hitchcock’s Spine Tingling Tales, not so spine tingling anymore!  But it was a hardback..I’ll donate it.

 Two trash bags later, sigh.  I have conquered.

The best thing is, it only took me about 45 minutes.  But hubby was so impressed, he assumed it took me all day… I’m not tellin’.

Maybe I’ll tackle my ‘junk closet‘ next week..or not.

“Come ON!”

“..but I just want to pick a dandelion..”

“NO!”

………………………..

“We get to see the baby before her new parents take her.”

I was 11 when I met you.  You were in an incubator at St. Joseph hospital, Orange County, CA.  You laid quietly on your side with a diaper  that was too big for you.   Little squinty eyes and a cute little baby face, with hands balled in fists.  I guess you knew then, life for you, would be a fight.

“Would you like a picture?” the nurse asked, with a look that reflected our heartache.

We stood around you, and tried to smile.

…………………………………

An unwanted pregnancy?

I don’t think so.

Unplanned?

Maybe, maybe not.

Loved?

Yes, definitely.

…………………………………

“I just can’t do it,” sobbed my sister.

In her hand was a picture of your new mom and dad, taken when you were born.  They were smiling, they had waited for you.  You were in the arms of a woman with blonde hair and pretty make-up, her husband standing close to her, hugging you both.  I don’t remember what he looked like.

I don’t know all that happened, I was just 11.

Hearts were broken,

hearts were mended.

You came home

with us.

You were not adopted.

………………………….

Life for you, as you grew, was difficult to say the least.  Your mom wasn’t ready to have a baby.  How can she be a good mom when she hadn’t experienced it herself?

For us parenting doesn’t come naturally.  For us, it is a hard job, where our consequences for not being a gifted mother last forever in our children.  Your mom was torn.

She loved you and hated herself.

And when there is no healing, hate wins out.  She mothered you with hate.  Hate over her own shortcomings.  Hate for her mother.  Hate for your father.  Hate for welfare and no education.   Hate that she never could be good enough.

So you had to be perfect.  Your hair was always done (except at grandma’s house where you would run around with ‘wild woman hair’ the color of a bright new penny)!

You could never play in the dirt.  You could never touch your books , you could never touch the happy meal toys..they had to stay neat on the shelf.

You saw things a child never needed to see.  You saw fights that I could only imagine.  Heard screaming that hurt your heart.  Your father left and came again, when he felt some type of  need, only to leave again.  Your heart was like a scar that could never heal, since it was always being torn open again.  He is still like a child with no responsibilities.  He is a man who has missed out on more than he will ever comprehend.

……………………………….

Why didn’t I stand up for you?  It is because I was young.  You were like a little sister in many ways.  You got into my stuff, you got the attention, you got on my last nerve!

I wish I was older when you were born.  I wish I knew then, what I know now.  About compassion, about kids, about having fun.

I remember that time when I wouldn’t let you pick the dandelion because I just wanted to go home.  I wanted to stop watching you and get back to my own life.

If I could do it again I would have picked them with you.

I would have colored with you, and tickled you, and been amazed at you.  I wouldn’t have regrets about not standing up for you, or not telling your mom to leave you alone.  I sat by even when I knew you were being treated badly, and I want to apologize.  You never deserved any of that.

I am so sorry for the times you felt like a disappointment.  You never were.  I am sorry for the times you held a razor to yourself, you never should have felt that way.  I am sorry for the relief you felt as you cut yourself.  I am sorry for all the times you just wanted your mom to love you, and still do.  I am sorry you were so angry you left to live with you dad, hoping he might fill the void.  I know he didn’t.

I am sorry you imagined that being adopted would have been a better choice.

I am so glad you weren’t.

I am so glad you are in my life.  And for the years you lived with me.  I got to see so many things about you, so many things I wish your mom could see:  hard worker, problem solver, silly, loving, bully-deterrent for younger cousin!  You handled any confrontations between the neighborhood kids and settled problems for your little cousin!

I was lost when it came to raising a teenager.  Sometimes I just didn’t know what to do!  You needed to be pushed.  To have expectations and fairness.  To have a chance to prove yourself to yourself.

As you lived with us, I saw a change take place.  One from a fighter, to a young woman who actually started believing in herself, just a little!

Your teachers all said, “She talks excessively!  But she’s a pleasure to have in class!”

After you graduated you chose to be a  Marine because their expectations are so high.  Of  course you chose that!

When you got pregnant I was angry.  Angry because I thought I let you down.  Angry because I didn’t want you to be like your mom.

But you’re not.

You served your country and now have two beautiful little girls.  Girls, who you are raising differently.  Girls who can make a mess, and get dirty, Girls who pick dandelions, and who know you love them even tho they can drive you crazy!

Now Ican be amazed by you!

Thank you for forgiving me when I am less than perfect, Thank you for loving me…

You are perfect, to me.

My neighbor..

“Miss Elaine,” she said, as she waved her hand in a slow arch over her head, “I like the way that sounds….like a movie star!”

My daughter named her that seven years ago when we moved into our new house.

Elaine was the 1st person to welcome us, “Hello, neighbor.”  She knew we were the 1st to move in and offered to plug in our orange extension cord so we could have light that night.  That was our first time meeting her.

She asked us if we would like to come in to her house, and she showed us her home that she and her husband built.  The workshop had been left exactly as her husband left it when he died.  His last project still waiting to be finished.  She explained that when she wants to be close to him, she sits at his workbench and talks to him.

She told us of living in Mexico City and learning to speak fluent spanish.  She told of how her house was the first on the street so many years ago and of housing soldiers in the apt above her garage during WWII.  She told us how the granite hill behind her house had been excavated and many Indian artifacts were found.  She invited us  to feel the grinding block worn smooth by years of grinding acorns next to the river which used to run there.  ”The rest are at the museum down town if you would like to see.”  She took from her wall, a Bible, carried by an ancestor in the Civil War.  There was a spot which deflected a bullet on the cover.  She took  it out and said, “Touch it!  Feel it!  History is meant to be experienced.  Not to be looked at upon shelves!!”

Yes, she was an elementary school teacher.  I think, probably the best one ever!  She tells of being discriminated against because she was a woman.  And how men talked down to her.  That’s just how times were back then.

She loves kids.  She allowed the little girls from the neighborhood to play with her many costumes from over the years.  She was a captive audience to their short productions.  Always eager to fill a part they may have had for her.

She took walks at dusk to look over the river bed and watch the sun go down.

When I told her I was pregnant with my 3rd child, she said, “Three is good.”

She told us she was happy we moved in next to her, because she used to be afraid at night.

And now…

She is older.  Nobody really knows how old she is.  She’s always just looked old.

She forgets who we are.  She tells us, as we pass her house, how happy she is that we have moved in next to her.  And on the way back she stops us and asks if we would like a tour of her house.  She asks my daughter her name, and with a sweet smile says, “Yes, I remember you…”  and then forgets as we walk away.

Her adult son has moved in with her and there is a woman who stays with her during the day.  She has stopped driving (thank the Lord!), and has stopped taking walks.

On rare occasions, I look out my window and see her leaning on the fence, her face to the sunset.

I saw her the other day.  She was checking her mail.  As I came closer she looked up and smiled, “Hello…, and where do you live?”

Our first family vacation (with all 3 kids), crossing state lines, in a car, all together took place three years ago in 2008.  We all piled in the car, destination:  Grand Canyon.  Thanksgiving at the Grand Canyon.

Check list:

New DVD system installed in car encouraging no contact between children:  check. 

Kids doped up on Dramamine to hopefully bypass the screeching stop and forceful removal of child avoiding puke in said vehicle:  check. 

Winter clothes…(we live in Southern California) OK, warm clothes:  check.  

Monkey backpack leash, to save my youngest child from throwing himself from the edge of this natural wonder:  check. 

Let’s hit the road!

Hubby and I decide to take seperate cameras since, he is always the one who gets credit for the great photos two cameras equal twice the memories!  Halfway there, hubby realizes he left his camera at home.  I got a great picture as I reminded him I still had mine!

All went well, except for forcast of rain all week and our gas light coming on while traveling the highway with no gas stations and pouring rain.  That was stressful.  The car actually started surging the last mile before we found a gas station where our car took 19 gallons to fill.  As far as I know, we had a 19 gallon tank!

We made it to the Yavapai Lodge and settled in.  The kids were extatic, “What are those??”  Calm down kids, those are trees.  Good, kids are already impressed and they haven’t even seen the Grand Canyon yet! 

Our first trip to the rim left some to be desired.  With the forcast of rain came all encompassing fog.  We stood at the rim and told the kids, “Right over there (pointing out) is a huge, magnificant, canyon with different colors and rock formations.”  The kids were not impressed.  In our California windbreakers pulled tight and red cheeks the kids asked when we could go back to our room.  Except for David, he was content with walking the edge, thank God for the leash! Maybe tomorrow would be clear.

As day 2 dawns we are awoken by the sounds of vomiting.  Nothing takes you from sound asleep to completely awake faster than that sound!  A river of puke runs all over the white sheets, coming from David.  I ball up the sheets and set them outside the door, luckily there is a cart with clean sheets handy.  Nice.  I feel bad for the cleaning lady who unravels that.  If a puky bedsheet is washed with others, does it contaminate all of them?  I say yes.  We will never sleep at Yavapai lodge again.

Later that day hubby is bedridden.  It’s OK, I’ll take the kids out so you can sleep it off.  Where’s my damn camera.

Opening the curtains the next morning, we were greeted by a beautiful white carpet of snow and mule deer right outside our window!  Happy Thanksgiving!  This is one to be remembered.  The kids got on their warmest sweaters and canvas sneakers to play outside.  It wasn’t long until we realized our California garb was not, umm, appropriate as our kids start crying saying how much their fingers hurt and how they can’t  feel their feet.  Wimps.  Until hubby and I go outside, dang it’s freezing out here!  Let’s go spend $500 on new snowboots for the whole family.  Not our idea of souvenirs, but our feet are warm and dry.  And the kids aren’t crying!Today makes it all worth it.  The sun is shining, the air is crisp, our feet are warm.  Nobody is sick and there is no fog.  Despite it being Thanksgiving, there are hardly any people here.  We drive to the rim and stand amazed, (except for David, who is still tempting death.  Again, thank God for the leash). 

That night, for our Thanksgiving feast in the cafeteria,  hubby and I had turkey, but the kids each had something different.  One had a cheeseburger, one had chicken nuggets, I think one had Mac n Cheese.  And we all sat together, next to a window, where snow was gently falling.

I hope we can do it again…

Parental Advisory:  Explicit Language!

When used responsibly, Facebook is a great way to keep up with current friends, judge reconnect with old friends, and… meet new friends?

I see a ‘friend request’ from Abul Zabul (something like that), hmm I see he’s friends with my aunt.  Looks interesting, hey, he lives in Pakistan…I bet I can ask him some interesting questions.  OK (click accept).

Abul Zabul is online.

Me: Hello, How did you meet my aunt?

Abul: I do not know..my english, not that good..I do not know aunt sue.

Me:  That’s ok, you can practice your english while we correspond.

Abul:  Yes, how old are you, do you have children, what do you do in your spare time?

Me:  Maybe you should practice english with my husband.

Abul: ………husband….. no.  

Me (click de-friend), turns out my aunt didn’t know him either!  ooops!

Don’t forget to friend your teenage daughter’s friends.  I  just love the way she rolls her eyes when I say, “Hey, your friend just friended me on FB!”   That way I can keep an eye on my daughter and impart motherly wisdom upon her friends.  Like this:

Girl status:  My fucking throat hurts!”

me: Maybe it’s from all the bad words in there!

girl:  Oh, sorry I didn’t mean to put that!

And then there’s always the one friend you reconnect with, realize you have nothing in common, but keep them because you can’t believe the things they say!  On a public forum!

The below was copied and pasted from the same individual, spelling and emphasis left as is.  Names changed because…

“NOPE. . . NOT DRINKIN FOR A LONG TIME. . . AT THE DR. WIT MY DAUGHTER AND THE ROOM IS SPINING..!”

“ITS OFFICIAL THE ANKLE MONITOR IS REALLY NOT PUNISHMENT FOR MY JR’s HOUSE ARREST AND THAT STUPID MONITOR IS PUNISHMENT FOR ME! YES THE PARENT! UGH I CANT TAKE ANOTHER MONTH OF THIS”

“JUST TOOK IT FROM THE BACK! THAT WAS HOT!”

Sorry.  Really.

I should be doing laundry.

When it came time to add a dog to our family, friends told me to go to the pound and rescue an animal there.  Sounded good, rescue an animal, pay less, do good.  But I couldn’t get past the the voice in my head screaming, “NO, NOT THE POUND!”  Was I a bad person?   Why couldn’t I just go and rescue a dog and feel good about it?  I even made several trips, I would walk around amidst the barking and bad smells.  Looking into each kennel where dog upon dog would look back at me, bark, whine, or cower.  And all I kept thinking was, “Hm, what problems does that one have?”

It really bothered me. Until I remembered:

“Your mother brought home another dog,” my dad would say, rolling his eyes.

Years ago when I was around 7, my mom worked for the Humane Society.  They weren’t so humane back then, they still euthanized dogs and cats.  Nowadays The Humane Society is a wonderful no kill shelter.  When my mom first started working, she was taken into the back room, and to toughen her up, was shown puppy after puppy being put to sleep.  She also dealt with people who would bring their dog in to license or pay a fine, and would choose to euthanize it instead since it ‘cost’ less than to pay the lisencing fee!  I don’t think it toughened her up, she ended up quiting.

But in the short time she worked there, she would literally bring work home with her!  To a 7 year old this was always fun, always a big surprise.  There was Hoss, a huge St. Bernard who was bigger than me.  I thought he was wonderful, until he started cornering me in the backyard and trying to do ‘inappropiate’ things to me.  He was returned.  My favorite was Lady, a beautiful Doberman Pinscher (standard not mini).  She smiled whenever I came home from school.  Turns out she hated men, other children, and jumped 6ft fences.  After a few close attacks (including on my father), she was returned.  Freckles was a puppy, she didn’t last long either.  After each animal was returned my mom would say, “That’s why it’s SO important to spay and neuter your animals!”

And believe me, every animal that has ever lived with me has been spayed or neutered.  If there were a way, I’d even have the goldfish fixed!  Yes, It’s that important!

In my 7 year old mind connections were being made.  I was sad.  I realized that the animals at the shelters were broken animals.  They were there for a reason.  There was something wrong with each and every one of them.  Of course now I know that is not always true.  But my firsthand experience as a child was ingrained into my subconscience and became truth.

I will volunteer, I will donate money, I will bring in towels and shredded newspaper.  Just don’t ask me to take home a dog.