I'm asking for a favor

Remember when I wrote this?  Yeah, well, this is an absolute exception to that post, and I don't do many exceptions.  This is important, and you've obviously got time on your hands because you're taking the time to read my ramblings.  

Click the link and do something good for people who deserve a nice break.  It won't take long.  Do it. Now. (And please email me if the link below isn't working or taking you some place crazy because it is important that it works.)  You may not know them, but you probably know me, and I'm telling you they deserve to win this contest.  So, just take my word for it.

https://apps.facebook.com/moms_rock/entry/168234?=f2797z

Thanks!  Really, thank you!

Where my journey to being a grown-up started

Mostly I talk about things that are happening to me right now on this blog.  So, I don't mention my family at home in Arkansas much because I don't make it home much (like they've all seen Silas approximately two times each - I've been broke since time began - no judging).  

However, you should know that my dad, Michael (oh and he and my husband could not possibly be more alike if they tried); step-mother, Ann (I do so loathe the term step-anything.  I'm a step-mother myself, and I just don't like the term.  There has to be something better); and grandmother, Mary are a huge part of why I'm a (semi) well-adjusted, (semi) successful, (semi) grown-up.

I tried valiantly to be a failure by skipping what seems like a semester of high school, but my family intervened and I managed to graduate with honors and get a scholarship to college and everything.  I owe that to my parents for loving me enough to save me from myself.  

Ann made sure that I was able to cheer (most expensive sport [do not try to have that argument with me, it's a freaking sport] ever), sent me to private school, threw me birthday parties, helped me plan my wedding (and paid for it almost entirely), was at both my graduations, helped me color my hair, bought my school clothes, took me to movies, made my dinner every night, taught me to drive, took me to church, paid for my first semester of college before my scholarship funds arrived, had come-to-Jesus meetings with me when I was doing my dead-level best to throw my life away and was just, generally always there for me.  It's not a fairy-tale, and we had about a thousand arguments too, but I know she has always loved me and done her best to take care of me even when I didn't always make it easy. I hope she knows that I love her too.

My father has always been supportive of me.  He tells me how much he loves me and how proud he is of me almost every time we speak.  We aren't the closest father and daughter on the planet, but I've never doubted his love for me, and I hope he knows I've always loved him too.

My grandmother.  I don't even know where to start.  She is my rock.  She has buoyed me emotionally, spiritually and financially since as long as I can remember.  Some of my fondest memories are the weeks I spent with her during the summers and the Christmas Eve dinners I had at her house every year without fail until I moved to Texas.  I miss her so very, very much, and I don't know how I would have ever made it this far in my life without her.

They were all three there for every major event in my life growing up.  They did all that was in their power to make sure I had all my needs met, even when that meant sacrificing things they wanted or needed for themselves.  

I have not forgotten where I came from, and since this blog is my journal about my quest to become a grown-up, I think it's appropriate to give a shout out to the people who set me on the path.  Thank you to my dad, Ann, and my grandmother for loving me, taking care of me and providing me with the support I needed to be a (semi) well-adjusted, (semi) successful, (semi) grown-up.

My PSA for my male readers

Men - if you're super awesome about helping with housework or live alone, please feel free to ignore this and feel superior to all other men.  

For the rest (majority) of you, I just wanted to give you a little PSA and inform you that the dishwasher, washing machine and vacuum do not require a pass code for use.  There's not a secret pin number we're keeping from you.  So, do feel free to use them anytime you want.

By that, I do not mean, wash one shirt and one pair of pants for you to wear the following day.  I mean - do an entire load of laundry.  And don't shrink your wife's favorite shirt on purpose so that you never have to do laundry again because she's hip to you, and she will retaliate in some form or fashion (like yesterday when Michael was cleaning up a ladder rack and he couldn't hold it up and reach the bottle of cleaner at the same time, and I just stood there and laughed at him instead of helping - that was retaliation for saying "can you do the dishes tomorrow when you're feeling better?" instead of just doing them because I felt crappy). 

Do you know how many brownie points you get for doing housework without us nagging you to do it?  I literally do not think I can count that high.  We're talking enough brownie points for a guys weekend.  Like, a three-day weekend even.  Like The Hangover style.  With zero bitching from us.  

So, it's a win-win.  I'm just trying to help you out here.  Odds are your significant other is about 1000 times nicer than Michael's, so there is no telling the brownie points you'll earn if you just do the damn dishes without anyone ever having to raise their voice and make you do it.  I'm just saying.

Happy (belated) Mother's Day

One of the things I think I appreciate most about my mother is that I can be myself with her.  I never feel like I have to put on a show or hide parts of my personality or things that are going on in my world.  She never makes me feel judged or like she's going to ex-communicate me for being human and having flaws.

That is one thing I hope Silas can say about me when he grows up.  It is my mission in life to let him be himself and accept him for who he is because there is nothing like knowing your mom loves you without limitation.

So, Silas, know that I love you even when you hit me in the face and throw your food on the floor and scream at the top of your lungs for no reason and want everyone to hold you but me and  conspire with your father to make me change all of your diapers.  

I will love you even if I hate your wardrobe and the person you choose to date and all of your friends.  I will love you when I discipline you and when I know you're making a choice you'll regret.  I will love you unconditionally and from the bottom of my heart for your entire life.  You make being a mother so rewarding, and I would not trade anything about our relationship for anything in the world.

My mother is wonderful and my son is amazing, and all the people I spent Mother's day with are so special.  It was a perfect day, and I'm a lucky, lucky woman to have the kind of people I have in my life. 

Hope you all had a perfect day as well!

Temporary insanity

I think I've been taking the temporary nature of my life in stride up to this point.

I'm so pleased to have a place to live that it doesn't really bother me that I have to move again soon, and I'm trying very hard to be thankful for my temporary phone while I daydream about the iPhone 4 I will purchase as soon as I have the money, and I'm also trying to make the best of the fact that I temporarily have five outfits at my disposal.

But yesterday, because some asshole somewhere has nothing better to do than create computer-destroying viruses, I had to move to a temporary office at work, and I nearly had a meltdown (not nearly.  I did have a meltdown, actually).

Work is the one place I can usually count on consistency.  I have a routine, and I have my office with my pictures and my files stacked everywhere, and I have my computer set up with all the programs I need and in such a way that I can find almost anything I need in under 30 seconds.  

My temporary office was technically an upgrade because it has a window, and I don't have a window, but it had nothing else that makes me feel comfortable doing my job.  Also, it was about 3 feet from my nemesis, the very loud, demon-possessed copy machine.

So, it should be understandable that I did the mental equivalent of wearing a hole in the carpet this morning while waiting for my computer to be fixed.  

The computer-fixer-guy (IT guy?  Computer technician?  Computer Machine guru? Computer-fixer-guy.  That's it - that was the mental process used to create that highly technical term) had a crazy busy morning, and my heart sank lower and lower as the hours passed and it began to look like I would be waiting until Monday to move "home" to my office.  

Oh, but there is a happy ending for me because I'm writing this post from my messy office on my virus-free computer that the computer-fixer-guy did make time to fix today.

Thank you, computer-fixer-guy for restoring one thing in my life back to normal.  You just pulled me back from the edge of that nervous breakdown I was about to have.

Write this down

Family of potty mouths + a child who is a parrot = major embarrassment.  

Silas has heard at least four different people say the "s" word, and now he won't quit saying it.  He just comes out with it randomly.  Apparently he's been regaling the babysitter with it all day.

A few weeks ago, he spilled his bowl of goldfish and said, "damn it! damn it! damn it!" as he picked them up to deposit them back in the bowl.

He hasn't dropped an "f" bomb, yet so maybe there's still hope. <---- Is up for debate as of my last text message from the babysitter.  Could have been the word "buck," and we're all choosing to believe it was.

Put on your to do list: "Clean up foul mouth prior to having children", or you may just find yourself turning fifteen shades of red in a Target one day.

Biker Chick

Netflix has afforded me the opportunity to catch up on shows most people have been watching for several seasons.  My current obsession is Sons of Anarchy.

Hot Jax.  Did I mention HOT?

Motorcycles?  Tattoos?  Gemma being all - I'll-smack-you-in-the-face-with-a-skateboard-if-you-mess-with-my-man?  Jax being all tough guy, but melty when he sees his little boy?  Love it. 

Something I bet you did not know about me:  I know how to ride a motorcycle.  My ex and his dad bought me a Honda 125 (or whatever - I don't remember what it actually was) so that my feet could actually touch the ground and taught me how to ride it.  

I mean it's been a few years, and I wouldn't want to challenge anyone to any kind of contest or anything, but if presented with a bike I could hold up, I could totally get it down the street.

Michael has been going on and on about wanting a bike for years, and now I'm kind of on board and kind of want another Honda 125 (or whatever) for myself.

Silas' Nana and Pawpaw are already indoctrinating him into the way of the Harley, so we may as well make it a family thing, right? (So long as no one starts ordering me to get them beers or calling me their "old lady" - we're way too close to a birthday for that).

Anyway, watch the show if you like that sort of thing (and if you don't....weird, but whatever), but don't Google how to properly spell people's names to write about it on your blog because you'll accidentally find out things you aren't supposed to know yet, and you'll be sad that you know them too soon.