Not Today Please.

Not really feeling well today. I knew it was happening last night when I felt tired at 9pm but by this morning, I was hit with a truck.

Husband: What's the matter with you?

Me: ::mumble:: I feel like shit.

Husband: What feels like shit?

Me: You name it, it hurts. Just leave me alone, your voice isn't helping.

Husband: Well somebody needs to wake up in a better mood.

Now here's where I don't get men. Yah, I was rude but I'd already explained that I didn't feel good. I told him to leave me alone. Where in there does it say to get butt-hurt because I asked him to leave me alone? This is my life. It's a constant battle of wits and pride. I hate it. Because he felt pushed into feeling like I just beat his pride with a bat, he took it upon himself to continue the 3rd inquisition.

Me: Why do I need to wake up in a better mood? I feel like shit. Could you just make sure M is up and getting ready for school before you leave?

Husband: You can't even get up and do that?

Me: Sure I can, continue being an asshole....I got this.

By this time, I'm attempting to roll out of my blankets and a wave of nausea hits me. (No, I'm not pregnant.) So I lay back down to try to let it pass.

Me: ::mumbling:: I'm gonna throw up. Please don't talk.

Husband: Oh so now I can't even talk?

Now, I'm not even sure what I did next but it involved frantically crawling to the bathroom. The rest should be assumed. And here is why my husband is lucky I didn't feel well enough to kill him this morning.

Husband: Did you just puke?

Me: ::groaning:: Mmmmm hmmmmm.

Husband: Did you?

Me: ::sigh:: YES!

Husband: Why'd you puke?

Me: ::silence::

Oh. My. God. How the hell should I know why I puked? There's a stomach virus going around. Maybe it was the 3 Cokes I drank last night before bed. But seriously, what kind of a stupid question is that? All I'm thinking at this point is when this puking episode is done, I'm gonna kill him.

Husband: Jean, are you okay?

Me: Yes, could you just leave me alone? I'll call you later.

Husband: What's your problem?

Now here is where my head explodes. What's my problem? Well jeez Sherlock, what do you think?

Me: Have a good day at work. (I turn the bathroom fan on and drown out anything else he has to say.)

Yah, I'm not feeling well today and it ain't getting better. This tirade on this here blog has taken way longer than it needed to take because of some pit stops back in the bathroom. Oh and the text I just received from my husband?

Husband (text): Why'd you puke this morning?

I haven't replied. I'm too busy trying exact my revenge on him later for being a clueless man. I hope every body's Wednesday is better than mine.

If I've offended you or expressed anything you don't agree with, don't worry, I'll probably do it again.

If Life were a Lollypop.

So I bought this giant bag of Dum-Dums yesterday and pretty much devoured the entire bag in less than 3 hours. And hush, I shared....a couple. My tastes for certain flavors are strange. I can switch from butterscotch to fruit flavor with a flick of the tongue. I don't really care because I love my lollipops.

That is the epitome of me though. I'm not really choosy. I'm happy most of the time with whatever you throw at me and if it's a lollipop, I'm a very happy girl. When bad things happen, yah, it sucks but if there isn't anything you can do about it, what's the point of dwelling of it?

So last night after leaving the soccer game of Cops vs. Didn't know they were playing cops, my husband's take-home car went kaput. We were in Richardson on a side road. What does this mean? Well according to my husband, it's the end of the world. He's gotta use his own car and his own gas money. Yah, it sucks. That's going to add on at least $125 a week in gas money for us. Oh and his truck needs new tires before he gets his expired inspection sticker updated. We're looking at $500 in new tires. Yah, like I admitted, it sucks.

But! Here is where it's good to be with me. Now my husband bitched and moaned for like 2 hours. I probably had a sour face for about 10 minutes. Was there anything we could do differently? Nope. Were we on the freeway when the car went kaput? Nope. Do we have a car that he can use? Yep. And finally, get over it dude, it's freaking done. I mean jeez, would you rather be pissed off or just deal with it? Now my husband would probably say he would want to bitch about it but you can't be that way around me. One, because I'm not gonna let you. Two, because I'm gonna tell you to shut up because I'm tired of hearing you bitch and moan. Seriously, get over it!

So as me and the girls got a ride home in a cop car by one of our favorite officers, I managed to finish off my bag of Dum-Dums. The last flavor? Mystery. To this day, I have never hated the mystery flavor. It's never been a coconut or a chocolate one. (Which I think are the worst ideas for lollipop flavors) And that was my epiphany. Life is like a mystery lollipop. You never know what you're gonna get. But when you stick that candy delight in your mouth, it's done. There's no turning back. You're going to either be surprised or satisfied but anyway you look at it, there will always be another lollipop.

So suck it up. Life sucks sometimes but there is always going to be a little mystery and adventure to keep your taste buds excited.

Tuesday Carpool.

E: I'm finally getting my own room.

Me: How's that gonna happen?

E: My dad is giving me his office.

Me: Oh, bachelor pad.

E: Hold it, they're painting it baby blue.

Me: Oh, um.....if it's your room, why are they painting it baby blue?

E: That was the deal.

Me: You got screwed.

E: Hi, have we met...I always get screwed.

M (daughter): One word. Posters.

E: M? You really want me to get my butt kicked, don't you?

Me: Boys can't do posters anymore? No Farrah Fawcett or Cindy Crawford?

E: Who?

God, I need a lollypop. I'm getting OLD! Have a nice Tuesday!

If I've offended you or expressed anything you don't agree with, don't worry, I'll probably do it again.

If Karma is a Bitch....Her Name Has to Be Jeanie.

Okay, I think I'm contradicting myself here. I've said that I don't believe in luck. I don't believe that life is out to get me. I do however believe that Karma is alive and well....living in TexASS.

Over the past couple of years, I've been reminded quite a few times of what a pain in the ass I was as a child. My reminder is in the form of a sweet little girl. I've mentioned her before. It's K, my youngest, my mini-me. I adore her. Don't get me wrong. In fact, I tend to favor her because I "get" her in more ways than one.

My oldest, I don't "get." She's quiet, she's sensitive and by god damn, she is a moody lil' bitch when she wants to be. Yah, yah, yah....I know, a couple days ago, I compared her to my sister. I'm not favoring that comparison when I say the above. It's different when my sister is an adult and my child is a tween. I hate that I don't "get" M. I hate that I favor her sister sometimes. You'd think that since I recognize it, I'd find a way to put a stop to it. I've tried but damn, it's really hard to do.

Sometimes I wish that I could ship her off to my sister for awhile so she could figure her out. So my oldest could get a taste of what it feels like to be understood. In this house, nobody gets her.

This weekend was a weekend of nothingness. It was freaking GREAT! We had a mailbox fixed. My husband went to look at some land for this year's deer lease. (Don't ask...trust me, you don't want to know.) Sunday was Mother's Day. My mother and I put a request in and wished for my husband's homemade enchiladas. Oh yah, we got em too. Mom and dad brought over some wine and my mother and I got a little tipsy on "our" day. Our only sadness was we couldn't enjoy it with the other mother in the family. We toasted to her though and wished she was with us. If there is one thing, we are descendants of some great mothers. We've laughed, we've cried and we've succeeded through every endeavor motherhood has thrown at us. Oh, and we're not stupid enough to realize that it ain't even close to being over.

I hope everyone who has the honor of being a mother had a great Mother's Day. I hope those of you who aren't mothers, took the day to say thank you. I'll leave you with a mini-conversation between me and my daughters. Ya gotta love it cause if I didn't, I'd be in a freaking asylum by now.

K: Hey momma, what do you want for Mother's Day?

Me: Nothing. I have everything I've ever wanted.

M: Don't believe her K, she'll be asking us to clean our rooms any minute.

Me: Well, did you clean your room?

K: Good one M. We prolly would've gotten away with it if you hadn't have opened your big mouth.

M: Well if that ain't the kettle and the pot.

Me: Oh hush. Did you clean your room?

M: I'll do it later.

K: I already cleaned mine.

M: Butt kisser.

K: Kettle!

Me: Sisters, sisters, there will never be another sister..... (This is a song from White Christmas that my mom used to sing to me and my sister to break the fights up.)

M: Mom, if that didn't work on you and Auntie T****, why would it work on us?

Me: Is it annoying?

M: Very.

Me: Then my job here is done. Go clean your room.

M: ::grumble mumble:: Fine. But it is annoying.

K: If that isn't a pot and kettle....I don't know what is.

Me: Sweetie....give it up. You're not saying it right.

K: Am I the pot or am I the kettle?

M: Neither, you're a dork.

Me: Your Auntie would be so proud of you and shocked at the same time M.

And she would too. :) Happy Monday people....it'll be over soon.

If I've offended you or expressed anything you don't agree with, don't worry, I'll probably do it again.

Monday sniffles = excused from PE?

When I was a kid, I hated school. The only good thing about school was seeing my friends. If I didn't want to be there, I'd usually put a heating pad on my head or ditch. A note to the principal excusing me from school was usually written by me. My mother once had a meeting with the principal that produced probably over thirty forged excuse notes. The broken heart and weeks of solitude were torture. My mom had the broken heart and I was grounded for the rest of my life.

My kids today are too young to ditch and trust me, my oldest is way too good of a kid to ditch anyway. My youngest? Yeah, going to have to watch her. This morning though, my oldest, M, is suffering with yet another sinus headache. I'm not the typical parent that feels sympathy for illness other than her own. The pathetic looks on their faces and exaggerated moans and groans do nothing for me. If there is a fever, I'll cuddle and take care of you like you're on your deathbed. No fever? Forget it! No fever for M today so she's going to school. About two seconds before her carpool pulls up, she asks for me to write a note excusing her from PE.

Is she kidding?

Nope, she's not. I don't think I ever asked for a note excusing me from PE unless it was that time I sprained my ankle stepping off a one inch curb. One inch people and I was making fun of someone that tripped off that one inch curb two minutes earlier. Karma, people....is a bitch!

Back to the dilemma, how do you write a note excusing your daughter from PE? I never saw one before and I really didn't think she should be excused anyway. It's just a freaking sinus headache! Suck it up! The look on M's face was annoying as hell. It was the, on the verge of tears and I hate you, look. Gotta love THAT look! So I grab a solid white piece of paper, frantically look for a pen and begin scribbling a note for the girl suffering with a "brain aneurysm."

Dear.....PE teacher? (How sad is it that I don't know her gym teacher's name?)

Please excuse M**** from PE today. (I should've stopped there as I am her mother and that should be enough but I didn't.) She is suffering with a sinus headache and is convinced she is dying. I have supplied her broken body with enough medicine to knock out an elephant. However, if the side effects of being a twelve year old who doesn't feel good set in....just put her in the corner with a cup of water.

Thank you,

J*** Bonifacio

P.S. My number is (***) ***-****. Please call me if she doesn't survive the day and her head explodes like she's expecting.

Here's hoping M feels better by tomorrow....and of course I don't get a phone call from the PE teacher.

If I've offended you or expressed anything you don't agree with, don't worry, I'll probably do it again.