Writer’s Block.

This sucks.  Writers block. 

I have several posts almost finished.  But I can’t bring them to a cohesive close.  I can’t wrap it all up in a pretty bow and just post it.  Noooooo, I have to sit there, looking that these damn words and question them, edit them, delete them, add new ones and none of it seems to make it work.  For someone who can run on and on and on and dominate ANY and EVERY conversation…I cannot fathom what the hell is going on.

I have really bitchy ones almost done, and I think, do I really want to post that?  Do I want to put that person on blast?  It IS my blog.  My safe place for my words, but what drama is it going to bring to my world that I don’t necessarily need.  Then I think, why edit myself?  Or further, do folks really want to hear about my woes? 

I have some amusing ones, at least amusing to me.  Mostly about dogs and my houseshoes or the humping antics around the casa…but then I question, are others going to find this as amusing as I do? 

Have I just worn out my welcome?

There’s so many ideas in my mind and I can’t form a complete sentence.  I want to see the funny in the world, but for some reason around me, folks are using common sense.  There’s not a lot of stupid to chew on.  What is that? 

I miss my unicorn man.  The one I blogged about here.  I don’t know where he has gone.  It makes me sad, driving to work not seeing him lately.  I did think I saw him a couple of months ago, but it was a woman.  An ugly woman with dishwater hair…but *sigh* not my unicorn.

I miss having the glass “half full of stupid.”  I need someone to do something spectacularly stupid right in front of me.  It needs to stop me in my tracks and make me chuckle.  Tanner….where are you!?!?

What exactly is a chuckle?

I need to know what it is that I seem to be waiting for.  What seems to be holding me back.  I have had my faith tested, my family bonds tested, my trust tested and well…it’s time to quit testing me.

Testing me leads to bitchy me.  And that’s NEVER a good situation.

My life has changed in many ways…it’s moved forward and followed a path that I didn’t expect to travel.  I haven’t looked back and I haven’t questioned it.  I am a firm believer in destiny and that my path is laid out in front of me, to teach me lessons, to show me what I need to know when I need to know it.

I need the path to show me some stupid.  I need my muse.

I need a trip to Wal Mart.

Or a swap meet.

Or the laundromat. That would work too!

Take me back…

I have sat this weekend, my mind filled with memories of people who have touched my life.  People who I love and miss dearly.  It has made me value the ones I have chosen in my life.  My loved ones.  My soul sisters…my Tanner, my Kenner…my forces of nature.  It made me realize how lucky I am that in my lifetime, I have met extraordinary women and have experienced life altering events with them and how blessed I am to have these people in my orbit.  It also made me melancholy for a long ago time…

I spent some time last night with my Girl and one of her longest known friends, Charmaine.  Three hours to be exact, to be regaled in stories of elementary school pranks and high school hi-jinks.  I laughed so much my sides hurt when we left.  It was awesome.

And it made me start remembering those years, those innocent, drama filled/free (depending on how old you get) years and it make me wish for them again.  Or the power of memory to recall more of them.

I still have such a soft spot in my world for these people.  My Shawna, Ursula, Shelly, Robin, Lorri, Stacey…these were my sisters.  They taught me about makeup and boys.  Shoes and music.  Boys.  Always about the boys…(they didn’t allow gay folk in Mesquite, so I had to learn about THOSE all on  my own, years later…)

I hear songs and recall moments, when we had the world in the palm of our hands and at the same time, couldn’t wait to grab it by the balls and show it who was boss.  We have all gone our separate ways, taking us to different cities, different states and in some cases different time zones.  I crave to have them all in the same space again.  I crave to go back, to 15, 16 or 17 and do it all over again, knowing what I know now and just hold on.

Mostly, I can hear Magic Power by Triumph and Shawna is in my mind, front and center.  Or Modern English’s “Melt With You” and just yearn to be around Ursula.  There was such an innocence about these friendships.  I remember my first heartbreak and Ursula being there, my best friend…holding my hand as I cried over Dick Head Joel. 

I told the story this weekend of my friend Shawna, being the skinniest (and hottest, which well, she is) chick ever and having to go by size ZERO jeans and wanting to be so much like her.  From the flawless make-up to the rockin’ curly hair.  Her brother was my first “serious” crush and she was patient with me…God love her.

Or Robin…with the truck and no curfew…we had run of her house and made the best of it.  Some of our hardest laughter was with Robin…her laugh infectious. 

And Stacey and the Town Car.  We travelled far and wide in that car when we weren’t crammed in her Camaro.  I loved Mamma and Poppa Noe and wanted parents like that.  THANK GOD that they adopted all of us and loved us as if we WERE their own.  Stacey has a sweetness to her.  She would be your friend, just because, you didn’t need to do anything in return.  She was THAT nice.  If you were her friend, if you messed with us…she had a Camaro and knew how to use it!!!

Shelly with her sense of humor.  She did then and continues to see the world as her oyster.  She lives her life to the fullest and I am in awe and am so proud of her for her accomplishments.  I live closer to Shelly than most and I am shamed that I don’t do more to stay in touch. (note to self:  must correct this…)

Then there is Lorri.  Ahhhhh….Lorri…she was cool on a stick.  The badass of the group.  We wanted her with us, not against us (at least I speak for myself!) and no one ever fucked with Lorri.  She is one of the sweetest people I know.  And the MOST changed (aside from my whole gay thing)…a former Ozzy-ite.  Her goal was to meet and marry him….now….she has chickens and a country twang.  I still shake my head at this. 

We changed as we grew and things happened that pulled us in directions that we never anticipated and there are years that I missed as these girls stayed in touch.  Years that I regret missing…memories that I lost out on.  I couldn’t tell you the exact reason we drifted, I can tell you that whatever the hell I did or the situation was, it was due to me, to my actions and gracefully they forgave me and welcomed me back to the fold.  (note:  the only reason I do know this, is I found a letter from Ursula forgiving me, telling me what was done was done….but doesn’t mention what I did.  It was probably a jerk move and I have blocked it.  I was a turd for a few years.)

In our recent move, I found “Notebooks.”  Spirals filled with notes that we passed back and forth.  And sat for HOURS reading through them and the box of folded notes that I had saved.  It’s a large history lesson, with music high lights, movies of the time, boys that we liked and the gradual signs of maturity that we didn’t see that I can look back at and wonder about them…

These strong-will sisters shaped me.  Made me stronger.  I love them.  And even if I don’t stay in touch as often as I should, through the power of Facebok and MySpace, I feel a kinship to them that will never fade.

These friendships carried me through some of the hardest parts of my life and allowed me to nuture the friends that I have made through the years.  I guarantee I can call on these women at any moment and no matter what, they will be there for me. 

These women taught me the lessons of loyalty, of sisterhood and I thank them. 

I will always love them so…

psst, over here…I gots something that may help.

Not that I am a parenting guru by any stretch of the imagination, trust me, I will screw it up ten times more than the normal person…but I truly, truly live and breathe for my kids.  They are the best part of me and unfortunately, they know it.  Damnit.

I have however learned a few lessons along the way and who am I to withhold the things I have figured out…I only hope they help some other poor sap, er, parent before it’s too late.

  • Kids are only cute when they are infants.  Once they are able to get around on their own, whether it’s crawling as babies, tottering around as toddlers or crawling as teenagers, it.is.over.  You will never catch them.  You will never keep up.  Just park on the side of the road and hope they come back for you at some point.
  • They are bottomless pits for all food groups unhealthy.  The moment you introduce an apple or green bean to their diet, they are stuffed.  Try wrapping the apple or green bean in nacho cheese, this seems to work.  Until they catch on.
  • Always keep nacho cheese in the house, as stated above, it can be used for a multitude of things; much like WD40 or a mother’s spit. 
  • Children are allergic to chores.  Specifically any chore involving sweeping, dusting, picking up, sorting, bending, exerting, wiping, mopping, loading, unloading, folding or putting away.  Children will go to great lengths, including doctor’s notes, faking death or running away to avoid any and all things chore-worthy.
  • It doesn’t matter if it’s a sock on the floor or a pile of clothing that is 12 feet high…they will walk around it, through it, over it or if necessary tunnel under it.  They will not pick it up.  See above.
  • The only time a child will clean ANYTHING check for your wallet, your car keys and your kidney…something is missing or something is wanted.  It’s up to you to figure out which thing it is.
  • All My Children, As the World Turns and The Hills combined do not have 1/10th of the drama that high school juniors have.  Save yourself the trouble, get Valium, vodka and a therapist on speed dial quickly. 
  • If you pay for play, aka allowance…be prepared, children are like loan sharks.   They will want the vig the moment it’s due and if you are 10 seconds late, there is a 200% interest fee attached.  For every 15 seconds after that, kneecaps are gonna be broken.
  • Be prepared to keep your hand outstretched with at minimum a $20 bill.  If you have anything less, they will stare at you until you are uncomfortable and coughing up a lung to sell on the black market.  (You already gave your kidneys up…)
  • Be ready at a moments notice to iron an outfit, construct a science fair project, run to the library, transport them everywhere…children don’t plan ahead for anything other than the next weekend.  Homework is an afterthought…so is clean laundry.
  • Never tell them you hate who they hang out with, who they date, what they wear or what they listen to…trust me.  Reverse psychology doesn’t work either.  Just turn your head, avoid eye contact and absolutely LIE through your teeth when they ask you if you like it.
  • There is no such thing as too much eyeliner, too short shorts or too much bronzer.  Leave it be.
  • Never like their music.  Or their movies.  Or their TV shows.    Never try to sing along to the radio or quote the shows.  You will sound like a tool.
  • Don’t bother with the “Texts from Last Night” or “FML” websites.  Don’t mention the funny things you see on YouTube.  you are square, you are lame and nothing you read, listen to or experience it will change that.
  • They will NEVER comprehend life before the internet, cell phones, IPods or reality TV.  Riding your bike until dark or jumping rope until your legs are falling off are completely foreign concepts.
  • Never admit to being in Marching Band.  Ever.  Trust me. 
  • You will never be cool.
  • Nothing will make a hurt knee, hurt feeling, broken heart or upset tummy feel better than a mommy or daddy’s loving touch.  It can heal a heart, soothe a tear and band-aid a knee better than any imaginable force. 
  • They will need you every step of the way.

You will also never love, cry, laugh, yell or LIVE more than you will through your children.  Enjoy it.  Think I am gonna go hug my little tax deductions right about now.

40?!?! Really?

I realized a couple of days ago that it was 91 days until I turned 40.  Holy.shit.  I was JUST 29!!!

It’s now down to Day 82 and gotta say, I am getting a bit more used to the idea.  40.  Why, it just sounds “sturdy.”  I don’t really know what that means, but 29 or 39 seems like such an indecisive number.

My general age freak out happened when I turned 29.  I couldn’t tell you why, but it skitzed me out completely.  I wasn’t going to be “in my twenties” anymore and couldn’t use the excuse of age for my screw-ups…your 30’s well, you had to Grow Up…

I use the term Grow Up loosely.  I mean at 39, I am still TP-ing my best friends house (sorry Tanner) and watching cartoons (Bring back Dexter! you idiot!!!)….

I get that age is a state of mind.  Most days.  I can still do a cartwheel.  I still can’t throw a softball.  And if necessary, I could probably still ride my bike.  But chubby and two wheels is just asking for trouble. 

I remember being 10 and thinking I was getting “too old” to play with my Barbies any longer.  I was so sad.   That memory is so vibrant, realizing that Barbie, Skipper and Ken were going to be put away and one day, I wouldn’t even take them out of their pink, glittery box again.  It was a sad, sad day…

Until I realized the Nolan boys were outside and well….that’s all she wrote.

No Growing Up can suck.  I never did realize some of my childhood dreams and it’s not like I was asking for the moon or something,  I mean:

I wanted to be a Barbie….shut it…I was obsessed with Barbies.
I wanted to marry Shaun Cassidy.
I wanted to live in a Barbie Dream House (shut it) with Shaun Cassidy.
I wanted to be a twin.
Or a triplet.  that would have rocked.
I wanted to be a teacher.  (which is wholy humorous due to my lack of patience with all things 21 and under!)
I wanted to train horses.
I wanted to look like my 3rd grade teacher, Ms. Bellamy.  (5’1″, petite and long blonde hair…a Barbie)

So I have decided that 40 isn’t gonna scare me.  I am okay with 40.  I may STOP at 40, but it sounds good.  I realize that:

I am not going to be a Barbie.  At 5’8″. brunette and “full figured”, Barbie isn’t in the cards.  I could however, be her funny acerbic neighbor, Patty…yes?  And the whole gay thing….I don’t think Barbie is…but I am, so that may be an issue.  Don’t EVEN get me started on Ken’s sexuality!!!

I won’t be marrying Shaun Cassidy.  *le sigh*….he’s a bit older, a bit married and there’s the boy bits….*le sigh*

I won’t be moving in to the Dream House with Shaun…no….I moved into a dream house with the Daughter, the Son, My Girl and the puppy population. 

As I wasn’t born a twin or a triplet, no matter how hard I tried to convince others that I was (‘nother story) the closest I can come is that Kenner knows me better than anyone…and Tanner finishes my sentences.  So between the three of us, that’s triplets.  But Kenner is a twin, so does that make us quadruplets? 

The teacher dream went out the window when I realized that I haven’t finished elementary school yet, and at almost 40, it’s starting to piss me off.  I mean, I did my own time when I was a kid, and in my twenties went BACK to 1st grade with my first grader….alll the way to middle school…projects, book reports, effin math…I had my degree, what the hell?!?!

Decided to do it again, that the first or even the second time wasn’t enough for me…Round Three in elementary school…there are days, as I am cursing over the “New Math” that the son brought home, I wonder how these people get through the day without drinking or slipping the kids a mickey…yeah, teaching wasn’t in my cards.  Accountng was…don’t hate.

I no longer want to train horses.  I worked at the rodeo for three years.  Yeah, enough horses and their poo for me.  Period.

I will never look like Ms. Bellamy.  Taller, rounder and brunette…yeah….must have been the Barbie thing.

I do say, I have it good.  I have my kids, my mouthy, loud, allergic to chores kids.  They may not be your idea of perfection on Earth, but they are mine.  I love them with all my might and am quite proud of how they are turning out. 

I have a partner that puts up with me, the allergy prone offspring, my lack of ever being incorrect and my size twelve feet.  I love this chick.  She rocks.  Whenever I think that the world is reversing on it’s axis and things will never be the same, she calms me down, reminds me that it can’t possibly be that bad and waits until she is out of the room before laughing at me.  Where she should be the most hardened cynical person, she is the sweetest, most positive one in my life.  Now if we could just get the dog to quit barking at the Boy…

yeah, life is pretty sweet….bring on the 40’s…