blech

My arms began tingling about an hour ago, That tight, full, just shy of some sort of attack feeling like a lump in my chest. My head is now spinning, The chaos in which I currently live silently encroaching, Stealithy creeping up, cutting off my oxygen Until I vomit packing peanuts and masking tape. From where I sit like a lump of defeated flesh I realize this will never be over. I will never be done. I'm feeling very much like screaming until my head bursts, Jettisoned into space like some sort of fuzzy rocket, circling the earth. The tingling in my arms has become a full-fledged ache That makes me want to rip them from their sockets. I want it to be over. The packing and the moving a distant memory. I want my spouse to be normal again. The sluggish, pouty caveman gone from our lives forever. I want my girls to have their own rooms again, that I can send them to when they are overstimulated and ridiculous from the craziness that has consumed our lives.

i hate traffic

Driving to Glendale from Tucson on Friday, it took over 3 hours. Traffic sucks...

i hate cauliflower

But this was good! DD even ate it! Now that's something.



Middle Eastern Roasted Cauliflower

6 c cauliflower florets (about 1 medium head)
1 tbs olive oil
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 black pepper
1/2 tsp ground cumin
1/4 tsp curry powder
1/8 tsp ground cinnamon
1/2 c canned petite diced tomatoes, drained
1/4 c raisins (I omitted this)
1 tsp chopped fresh parsley

1. Preheat oven to 500 degrees.
2. Combine first 7 ingredients in a large bowl; toss well.
3. Place cauliflower on a foil-lined baking sheet. Bake at 500 degrees for 12 minutes or until lightly browned, stirring once after 5 minutes.
4. Combine tomatoes, raisins, and parlsey in a large bowl. Stir in cauliflower.
5. Serve warm or at room temperature.


It took about 25 minutes to make, and like I said, it was surprisingly delicious!

another day in paradise

Again we are living amidst boxes.

Yes, I'm happy to be finally getting out of the cracker box, away from strange apartment neighbors who divulge too much, away from paper-thin walls and 934 square feet of living space. Away from landscapers whose gas-powered leaf blowers start each Wednesday at 6 am, too forward neighbor kids who knock on unknown doors asking if there's anyone inside who would like to play, and individuals parking in my covered parking space.

But I have to keep reminding myself that I'm happy. Especially at times like last night when my head's about to explode from the frustration of being the only person packing a family of four and the girls are driving me crazy so I force them to bed at 7:17 even though dinner was a peanut butter sandwhich and a cup of apple juice and they're crying because they're still hungry and then Mitchell calls to let me know he's going to be out late because he's going to have a beer with John and is that okay? And I'm totally pissed but I say, "Yeah. That's fine" anyway and hang up and curse him for the next 40 minutes for being completely clueless.

am i not human?

I'm the first to admit that I make mistakes. I make mistakes while cooking, working, raising my children, dealing with family, balancing my checkbook, and yes, even while driving. Am I alone in this mistake making? It would seem that I am given people's reactions who happen to witness my driving faux pas. This morning I nearly got into an altercation with the teacher on parent drop off duty after I inadvertantly got a little curbage while pulling up to let my kids out. She rushes over, motioning to let down the passenger's window.

What's going on? Oops! Doing too many things at once! Got too close! (Of course I'm guffawing quite loudly now that it's confirmed that I've a witness) Is THAT what you were doing? (Please notice snide tone in which comment is made)

She's now bent over at the waist, peering at me in a rather stern manner. At this point, I begin to bristle.

What's the problem? (I'm now sneering at her)

She's still bent over, glaring at me. I begin to get that pingy feeling that occurs when I start to become enraged. Meanwhile, the girls are in the back seat, T watching the exchange, D passed out from the ride. In order to circumvent the police being called to arrest me for verbally abusing this woman, I begin calling out, "Okay. We're here! Have a great day!" After a few minutes, the girls have exited the car and are saying their goodbyes. Duty teacher is still glaring. Really? Is her driving record so squeaky clean? Has she never pulled too close to the curb and rubbed her tire against it? Am I truly the first person to have committed this sin while dropping off her kids? Meanwhile, parents driving Hummers and Expeditions are haphazardly dropping their children in the middle of the turn about because said Duty Teacher is too busy worrying about what I'm doing to her curb in front of the school. Swallowing any comments I might wish to scream out, I check my rearview in order to pull out, noting that Duty Teacher is still glaring.

whew

The fam and I just returned from another fabulous expedition to Mesa. As always, it was a truly stellar experience. I am so happy to be back in my crappy two bedroom apartment.

the novelty factor

Remember when you first met your person? You could talk on the phone for hours without running out of intriguing conversation... Just thinking about him/her caused your pulse to accelerate... Can you recall those fluttery feelings? All the anticipation? Those sparks you seemed to generate whenever you were in close vicinity? Okay. This is a little gross now, but can you recall all those times you spent making out in the car in front of restaurants, homes, movie theaters.... Those were good times.

Fast-forward to ten years and two kids later... What's that song about the "thrill" being gone? It's definitely gone. Those fluttery feelings have been replaced by intense irritation at the way he taps his fork on his plate while he's eating dinner. Or the desire to hit her in the head with a pot when she loads the dishwasher incorrectly for the millioneth time (that is if she ever loads it at all). The disagreements about who isn't rinsing out the sink after brushing their teeth. Nevemind that the one complaining the most adamantly has never cleaned any part of the bathroom to begin with, so why the fuss? Eventually you become two disgruntled beings, stomping/tiptoeing around a domecile, making curt responses to queries about kids and household needs. Intimacy, unfortunately, becomes a chore. A task needing to be checked off a to do list.

To remedy this symptom of an ailing marriage, the Date Night is prescribed. Baby sitters are obtained. Reservations made. Movies attended. And the result is...fine. Which is okay. But what happened to those sparks? Introduce the Novelty Factor.

Being a semi-frequent participant in marital Date Nights (although they have become fewer and farther between since moving to Tucson), I found this article to be interesting, especially considering it supports my feelings about newness and the complacency of the familiar.

one more reason to go green

"Climate research says Lake Mead, in the Southwest, could be gone by 2021. How millions in southern California and neighboring states would be affected."

hillraising

In the interest of being invested in our nation's democratic process, I decided to participate in a little Hillraising. Until yesterday, I was a campaign virgin, never having engaged in anything as remotely patriotic as making phone calls for a potential presidential candidate. This isn't something I was necessarily excited about doing. Calling virtual strangers who probably don't hold the same political predilection as me isn't high on my list of Super Cool Activities; however, I have been driving around with a "Hillary" vinyl cling on my car window so I decided to put my committment to the test.

What have you done to influence the Electoral College lately?

brandie crocker

I suppose I was feeling domestic this morning, and it being Valentine's Day I decided to bake some treats.

Red Velvet Cupcakes seemed to be called for on Happy Hearts Day. I didn't realize it'd look like a bowlful o'blood.



Here's the random, shrunken potato I discovered behind the Kitchen Aide. Clearly it's not often that I'm feeling domestic.

Red is pretty.



Fresh from the oven, they smelled pretty good.



I know you want one.
















The reason why I do these things....
(please disregard trashed living space)

$98.11

That's how much I spent this morning at Target for assorted Valentine's goodies for the girls and, yes, even Mitchell. What did I buy? you query. Surely something amazing for close to 100 bucks. Nope. Nothing even remotely fabulous. A crappy Littlest Pet Shop Diary for D. She's been begging for this for awhile and some weird little plastic "fashion" cards for T's iBarbie thing. Whatever.

hallelujah

Spot in which our tv used to sit

I cannot convey my thankfulness to Ray's In-Home Television Repair -- something of a misnomer since our tv had to be removed from our home in order to be fixed-- for making our family whole again. Tomorrow between 9 and 11 am they will return our tv to us. She has been absent from our home for what seems an eternity.

I will be waiting with bells on to welcome her home again.

joys of apartment living

I remember feeling crusty and confused as it was a good hour and a half before my usual wake up time. As I clumsily rearranged myself, giving Mitchell a shove for good measure, I blearily wondered what had called me from my slumber at such an ungodly hour. It was as this thought stumbled around in my sleep-dulled mind that I began to recognize exactly what it was that had disturbed me. Was it a confused and nightmare frightened child, seeking sanctuary in her parents' bed? Nope. The ridiculously goofy shi tzu that frequently requires bathroom breaks at inappropriate hours? Not today. Could it have been my spouse whose snores often rival the roar of a 747 landing in the living room? It was not. As I lay peering bitterly at the lime-green neon numbers of my bedside alarm, it suddenly became clear. My upstairs neighbor, a kindly man in his 50s, was getting his freak on and quite vigorously at that. Listen with me. Bed springs squeaking away at a rate I haven't heard in...well, frankly, since my single days. Oh and wonderful, this is where the banging of the headboard against the wall is introduced. And finally a chorus of gutteral utterings now joins the fray, eventually crescendoing into a bevy of inarticulate sounds that I continue to try to eliminate from my memory. Please understand, that may sharing of this event isn't a criticism against such behavior. It is simply a wish that I had not been able to share it with them.

in the bathtub

They are in the bathtub, shrieking and splashing.

Shouting and laughing, their bodies clunking against the fiberglass sides.

Reverberating throughout our boxlike apartment.

I wonder what the neighbors think,

As they are sure to notice the racket.

Probably believing we are a family of elephants

Who love to jam into our too small bathtub.

I do my best to fight the urge,

Rushing in, yelling.

Stifling their giggles with my need

To shout orders of SETTLE DOWN,

KEEP SOME WATER IN THE TUB!

Is that glass breaking? Bodies crashing to the floor?

I suppose I should hurry in there.

Checking for wounded.

I don't go in though.

I wait, still listening.

Fighting my urges.

To shout and yell about

Wet floors.

Wasted shampoo and conditioner.

Newly washed towels, laying in sopping heaps.

Wet toilet paper, drifting in the now cold bath water.

Wet footprint trails on the carpet along the hall.

They are out of the bathtub.

copy cat

Saw this on Naomi's blog and experienced a burning need to copy.

A - Attached or Single: Attached
B - Best Friend: Steph
C - Cake or Pie: Cake
D - Day of Choice: Tuesday
E - Essential Item: My laptop...both the work one and the personal.
F - Favorite Color: Red (warm reds no cold ones)
G - Gummi Bears or Worms: Both are VOMITOUS
H - Hometown: Glendale, AZ
I - Indulgence(s): Starbucks, mani/pedis, 400 thread count sheets
J - January or July: January: the quiet after the holiday storm... renewal... cold, dark days
K - Kids: dos
L - Life is Incomplete Without: Family
M - Marriage Date: June 26
N - Number of Siblings. One. A younger bro aka The Golden Child.
O - Oranges or Apples:

Apples, I love those blush-colored Galas.




P- Phobias or Fears: Too numerous to list entirely. Here are just a few: death (of self, children, husband, friends, democracy), heights, public metals.
Q - Quote(s): "It is what it is." No need to freak out. You can't change it anyway.
R - Reason to Smile: Girls, an empty house, The B's


S - Season: Spring
T - Tag Two: Naomi and Rachel (These are the only bloggers I know)
U - Unknown Fact About Me: I have a vascular lesion on the left side of my brain.
V - Vegetarian or Oppressor of Animal: Animal Oppressor...They are delicious!
W - Worst Habit: It's a tie: Picking the skin of my cuticules and interrupting people
X - X-Rays or Ultrasounds: Ultrasounds-love that ice, cold ultrasound lube
Y - Your Favorite Food: Asian
Z - Zodiac: Sagittarius

super start to the day

My phone ringing before 7 am is always a dead giveaway. Admittedly most mornings I solve the problem simply by hitting "Ignore", craftily returning the call at a time when it will go straight to voice mail. I realize that lately I've been taking that road of avoidance far too often, so I guilted myself into answering. (What if it's an emergency? Someone's died. Bad news. Need I go on?)

Hi, Mom. (Can you hear the resignation?)

Hello, Dear! How are you doing? (This singsong greeting is always bellowed through the receiver, causing me to speak with the phone hovering 5 to 8 inches away from my ear).

Fine. What's going on? (Mind you, it is 6:56 am. I am currently in the process of wrangling the girls into leaving the house for school. Depending on the morning, I may still be making lunches with the prospect of having to comb two headfuls of unruly, curly hair, finding coats and backpacks and getting them out the door and belted into the back seat of the car all by 7:05 am. Have I mentioned the 35 minute drive to school?)

You finally finished Grandma's memory book! (Implied subtext: Took you long enough. I thought you'd never be finished. That would have ruined Grandma's 80th birthday celebration for sure.)

Yep. What's up? (Cut to the chase, I'm busy here.)

What's going on for you guys this weekend? You know it's your aunt's birthday... Are you guys coming? We haven't heard from you... (You are so lucky you have me to remind you of important family matters. I can hardly imagine how you navigate through life.)

No. We're not driving up. I have a ton of work and a looming deadline. We've got packing. bleh bleh bleh (I cannot contemplate, even for a moment the prospect of the passive-aggressive combat Mitchell and I will engage in over where to stay, how long to hang out with each family group, or the actual experience of being with each family group for any length of time without the ability to escape or control the TV.)

Oh. Well. You need to call your aunt. It's her birthday you know....

I sent her a card. (At this point, I've started to get that feeling. Hostile thoughts flashing around in my head, my jaw begins to tighten, my shoulders creep up to my ears.)

You DID? You're so GOOD! (That's the least you could do if your going to ditch the family gathering.)

I don't even have to include my complete freak out which occurred on the pavement in front of my parking space in the 40 degree semi-dark morning, the girls looking on with little interest as they have, of course, witnessed this type of behavior from me many times before. I shout a curt GOODBYE, MOTHER into phone and yell GET IN THE CAR!

I'm now shouting into the back seat, "BUCKLE YOUR SEAT BELTS! WE'RE GOING TO BE LATE! HURRY UP! HURRY UP! ARE YOU LISTENING?!"

We are finally on the road; the car filled with resentful silence. And I wonder how long until I begin driving my own daughters absolutely insane.

another one bites the dust

If I fight on in my campaign, all the way to the convention, I would forestall
the launch of a national campaign and make it more likely that Senator Clinton
or Obama would win. And in this time of war, I simply cannot let my campaign, be
a part of aiding a surrender to terror.

-- ex-presidential candidate, Mitt Romney

I think it's interesting how susceptible we all are as Americans to the political doublespeak politicians so frequently employ.

Smoke and mirrors, my friends. Smoke and mirrors....

may i have your attention for just a moment

I know. A little weird, right? I'm trying to spread the word to those of us who don't have the time or inclination to do the research ourselves. Here's a little instant access....

For those of us who are/were teachers, consider Hillary's education plan. She does not favor teacher merit pay plans (this is a good thing).

In addition, think about her mandatory health care plan. I realize nobody likes to be forced to do anything they don't specifically chose, but the mandatory plan is beneficial to adult Americans who are no longer eligible for health care under their parents/guardians and are not able to get health care benefits. Sure, it's easy to believe that these unfortunate individuals are lazy, Gen X slackers, but that's not always the case.

And if you're thinking that mandatory UNIVERSAL health coverage is a SOCIALIST tact, consider the fact that we pay for all federal senators' and congressmen's health coverage COMPLETELY. These are individuals that I'm sure could afford to foot the bill for their own health care costs.

Okay. I'm off my soapbox ... for now.

super tuesday

I have a confession to make. I've done something I've never done before. Several weeks ago, I got online and requested an early voter ballot. Yeah. I realize people do it all the time.

My grandma swears by it.

But I wasn't one of those people. I have always enjoyed going to my polling place on an election day, the girls in tow and voting for whichever candidate on the DAY. Walking around all day long with my "I VOTED" sticker, feeling like a part of the solution. Now here it is Super Tuesday, and I feel like an outsider. I made my choice weeks ago.

When I dropped the girls at school, there was a man getting out the word for Obama. He was full of hope and optimism. Excited by the prospect of change today could bring. I envied him his enthusiasm.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know I voted, but it's just not the same.

kid weirdness

See what 45 miles of car travel a day can do to a kid.

snowy day schedule

Okay. I live outside Tucson, right? So weird. Today it snowed. Here's the proof.

The road to the house

Entering the neighborhood

Snow covered lot by the house

Snow covering the trash littering our side yard

The view on the drive back to the apartment

maybe one day...

After dropping the girls at school (have I mentioned the 35 minute drive?), I stopped by the house. When I recall that had things gone as planned, I would no longer be making aforementioned 35 minute drive but a mere 6 minute one. As I slide the car into park, I remember that we should be moved in. Tomorrow would make it a week. Suddenly I'm feeling vomitous.

Despite this, I'm still excited about our new place. I can't wait to get in there and paint those white walls. I'm anxious to place furniture and make decisions about knick-knacks. I'm even looking forward to the arguments I'll have with Mitchell about balance and symmetry. Never mind that all he cares about is that he gets a sectional with recliners for the family room and a new flat screen tv. This won't stop him from making comments about my desire for ample lamps. Or his inability to understand why the room needs a coffee table and area rug. I even look forward to the knock-down drag out we're sure to have over the color of said sectional.

The only color he can see is green. No. This hasn't been medically proven, I just know because of past experience. (Please see green van, army green paint he wanted to paint the kitchen cabinets, his entire work wordrobe, green truck, green couch he tried to buy me for Christmas in 2002, green couch he did buy when he was single, need I go on?).

Like I said, I'm excited. Maybe one day soon we'll get our keys. Maybe one day soon I won't be driving 90 miles a day and taking the dog out 4 times a day so she can do her business.

One can only hope that day comes sometime soon.

bleh

Saturday was spent traveling from store to store in search of furniture that I do not hate. This was no easy task, I assure you. Why is it that when you actually have the fundage, it is impossible to find anything worth spending it on? Don't even throw into the mix the fact that my spouse, who typically has absolutely no opinion on anything, all of a sudden discovers that he has likes and dislikes. Fortunately, I am completely comfortable ignoring his newfound opinions.

Unfortunately for me, Mitchell is not the only one in the family who thinks that their opinion counts. There were several occasions where Taylor was in serious danger of being sold to strangers. At one point, she began to sob while we were browsing through the Youth Bedrooms section at the American Home Store. Apparently she was upset because I would not allow her to get a bedset that consisted of bunkbeds made of aluminum piping that were embellished with shiny chrome plates resembling the details on a semi truck. Are you kidding me?

But it's my room and I should be able to have stuff I like in my room!

This is where I officially became my mother because I answered with, "It's my money. I'm the one who has to like it. Not you." Yeah. Not too diplomatic. What can I say...

Needless to say, there were no purchases made on yesterday's expedition.

Compression

Nope. That's not me. But it is a reasonable facsimile of my experience. My tech lady was blonde with goggles. And she talked a LOT. She was nice though. Didn't make it less bizarre.

I just kept wondering how I would face placing strange shaboobies on a shelf for digital imaging all day long. I'm sure there are plenty of professional rewards in this line of work, but that doesn't make it any less disconcerting.

Some highlights of the trip:

• AWESOME drapey,capey things that you wear after you remove everything "from the waist up"
• Strangely sinister framed needlepoint declaring, "We Compress Because We Care" (not a comforting sentiment)
• Super tiny second waiting room filled with drapey,capey women pointedly ignoring one another
• Having the tech lady draw a big "X" in black ball-point pen on my shaboobie just prior to the imaging
• Walking around with a metal bb scotch taped above the black ball-point pen X
• Having clear lube squirted all over said shaboobie in prep for the sonogram
• Seeing mysterious, menacing black growthy thing on the sonogram screen