So last night Nurse Hottie and I sat down and watched the movie "Premonition". You know, the one with Sandra Bulloch where she wakes up one day and her husband dies in an accident, then wakes up the next day and he's alive...and basically she's trying to figure out what day it is and how to save her husband.
Note: In case you want to see this movie I'm not going to spoil it for you, (at least I don't think) so you can keep reading.
This movie was, quite honestly, the worst one I'd seen in a LONG time. There is probably 30 minutes of film dedicated to watching Sandra's character do laundry and clean the house. Seriously. No Bullshit. 30 minutes of this crap. Okay, cut to the point where she starts waking up on different days in time. She's at the funeral. Since she can't figure out why she's waking up one day and he's alive, the next he's dead, she does the obvious thing - yells at the funeral director to open the casket. Dammit - she wants to see the dead body! So, of course, the pall bearers "accidentally" drop the casket while taking it out of the hearse. At which point it opens and her husband's head falls out and starts rolling down the street. Again - seriously, no bullshit. This scene had me laughing my ass off. And it only got worse from there...
The disturbing part of this is that it brought up some serious fears for me (and here comes the point of this post). I find that there are moments where I am terrified for my children's safety - where it hits me really hard that something horrible could happen to them in the future and I could lose them. I do realize that protecting them and keeping them safe at all times is not a possibility (side note - if you ask either of my boys what my job is their response is "to keep us safe"). But there are times when I literally feel ill from the worry that some day I could lose them. It's not rational, but it happens to me. And pretty regularly.
So here's my question - is this normal? I know that Nurse Hottie is concerned about the safety of the boys, but he also doesn't get upset like I do. Maybe it's a mommy thing? Or maybe I need medication... :)
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Weekly Rant...watch your language!
I attended a demolition derby this week with the boys at our local county fair. It was extremely crowded but I finally managed to find a spot on the bleachers. Unfortunately sitting directly behind me was a teenager who was saying things like "so I went to the fucking beach yesterday...used my parents fucking beach sticker, it was fucking hot...but the fucking water was fucking frigid..." You get the picture. I was trying to figure out how to say something without sounding like a jerk when the gentleman next to me (who actually didn't have any kids with him) turned around and asked the teen to curb his language, given that there were a lot of little kids who could hear him. I could have hugged this guy! The teen stopped swearing and I stopped stressing about it.
But this is a pet peeve of mine. Now, to be very honest, about the only word you will never hear from my lips is the "N-word". I can curse with the best of them. But I recognize that there is are times and places where certain language is not acceptable. Unfortunately there seems to be a large population of our society that doesn't realize this. It saddens me that although I would love to take my children to professional baseball and football games some day, I'm not sure that they are going to have a completely positive experience simply because so many spectators don't care to watch their language when out in public. I know that Fenway now has special "kid friendly" sections in the park (interestingly enough - those sections ban alcohol consumption for mom and dad). But what does it say about us as a society when we have to designate areas for this purpose? At what point did we decide that it was okay to swear, openly and loudly, in public?
You know what else bothers me - television. I remember when HBO used to only show R-rated movies after 8 pm. Now they show adult programming all day long. The word "bitch" is now completely acceptable during daytime programming, and the word "ass" is on it's way to acceptability as well. Yeah yeah, I know it's the parent's job to ensure that their children aren't watching inappropriate programs. I just wonder why we all can't do our best to limit what they can see during hours that they are obviously likely to be watching tv.
But this is a pet peeve of mine. Now, to be very honest, about the only word you will never hear from my lips is the "N-word". I can curse with the best of them. But I recognize that there is are times and places where certain language is not acceptable. Unfortunately there seems to be a large population of our society that doesn't realize this. It saddens me that although I would love to take my children to professional baseball and football games some day, I'm not sure that they are going to have a completely positive experience simply because so many spectators don't care to watch their language when out in public. I know that Fenway now has special "kid friendly" sections in the park (interestingly enough - those sections ban alcohol consumption for mom and dad). But what does it say about us as a society when we have to designate areas for this purpose? At what point did we decide that it was okay to swear, openly and loudly, in public?
You know what else bothers me - television. I remember when HBO used to only show R-rated movies after 8 pm. Now they show adult programming all day long. The word "bitch" is now completely acceptable during daytime programming, and the word "ass" is on it's way to acceptability as well. Yeah yeah, I know it's the parent's job to ensure that their children aren't watching inappropriate programs. I just wonder why we all can't do our best to limit what they can see during hours that they are obviously likely to be watching tv.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
New ND Recruitment Poster
Do we look good or what?
I have officially been appointed alumni-student contact person for our new local area ND Club. So I will be reaching out into the local high schools and making very clear the evils of BC and how ND is a way, WAAAAY, better school to attend. I give you our new recruiting poster as Exhibit A. I'd like to think of us as the new four horsemen (or horsewomen, depending on how PC you are).
Now, I should confess how I got this appointment. See, I would describe the average club member as Nursing Home-esque. In fact, at the original meeting, one member was telling the group about how his dad was an alumni too. Not so unusual, except his dad graduated in 1922...
So, since I was frequently mistaken as "so and so's granddaughter" at the meeting, and I also was a "real live, female graduate of the University", it become obvious that I'd better step up and volunteer for this job. Otherwise the local ND rep visiting the high schools would likely be wearing Depends.
But, in true Steph! fashion, I didn't actually know what I was signing up for. Until about a week ago when I started receiving mysterious phone calls and emails asking about the status of the student send-off. I don't know, beats me, was my first response. Until it was pointed out that apparently this is one of my tasks in this new role.
As a result I must now end this post so I can go and start contacting the students about the upcoming sendoff. Which will be held at my house. In two weeks. Which leaves me minimal time to get these posters ready.
Friday, July 20, 2007
My Con
I frequently feel like a child pretending to be an adult. In fact, I've almost always felt that way. The only time I didn't necessarily feel this discomfort was when I was in college. But I felt it big time when I graduated, and started wearing a suit to work. From that point on I've felt like I'm pulling off some sort of con on the world. They all see me as an adult - but underneath it all I'm not.
There are moments where I look around my beautiful house, and at my kids, and my husband and wonder "How the hell did I get here??? (wait - isn't that a talking heads song?) Is this really all my stuff??? Am I actually responsible for the care and raising of these two human beings??? Did someone not notice that I am really not the best person to be doing this??? Who thought I could handle all of this?
Oh, wait. Must have been me. Who knew?
But seriously, I really do not know how I got here. Here is a great place - don't misunderstand the thrust of this post. I just feel like I'm a kid playing dress-up, and that someday someone is going to stop me cold and say "you know, this really isn't your life. You belong back at the cheesy 90's disco with a Miller Lite in your hand".
What is so interesting about this is that I've always appeared to be quite the grownup. As a child I wasn't much of a child. For the most part, in my family I've always been "the responsible one". I was serious, and I was scholarly, and I was more interested in books than anything else. As a result I skipped the 6th grade. So I've spent many years being one year younger than my peers. I've often wondered if that's why I feel this way? But if that's the case, when does it end? For crap's sake, I'm 34 now. Am I going to be 65 with grandkids and wondering why they all legitimately think I should be a grandmother? Does everyone feel this way or is it just me?
There are moments where I look around my beautiful house, and at my kids, and my husband and wonder "How the hell did I get here??? (wait - isn't that a talking heads song?) Is this really all my stuff??? Am I actually responsible for the care and raising of these two human beings??? Did someone not notice that I am really not the best person to be doing this??? Who thought I could handle all of this?
Oh, wait. Must have been me. Who knew?
But seriously, I really do not know how I got here. Here is a great place - don't misunderstand the thrust of this post. I just feel like I'm a kid playing dress-up, and that someday someone is going to stop me cold and say "you know, this really isn't your life. You belong back at the cheesy 90's disco with a Miller Lite in your hand".
What is so interesting about this is that I've always appeared to be quite the grownup. As a child I wasn't much of a child. For the most part, in my family I've always been "the responsible one". I was serious, and I was scholarly, and I was more interested in books than anything else. As a result I skipped the 6th grade. So I've spent many years being one year younger than my peers. I've often wondered if that's why I feel this way? But if that's the case, when does it end? For crap's sake, I'm 34 now. Am I going to be 65 with grandkids and wondering why they all legitimately think I should be a grandmother? Does everyone feel this way or is it just me?
Sunday, July 15, 2007
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Watching the Wheels
Thing 2 has always shadowed his big brother. This isn't surprising since they're only 14 months apart.
But lately I've noticed some specific examples of Thing 2 coming into his own. I remember last year when they both started preschool (side note - I may bitch about the state I live in, but we are very fortunate to have free preschool in our town - it's lottery based, but most people get into it and a state grant pays for it) at the local elementary school. As a four year old Thing 1 attended five mornings a week and even rode the bus. Thing 2, barely three, only attended two mornings a week. I had no reservations about Thing 1 in school - I knew he would be fine. But Thing 2...well, I knew that he would have trouble. Or, more accurately, that he might feel a bit lost. He was in the classroom right next to his brothers, and their classes were frequently combined for lessons. So I thought Thing 1 would take care of his little brother.
Wrong.
Not that he was awful to him, but Thing 1 had his own friends and his own agenda. I can't blame him for wanting his space and his own identity. But it was always so sad to me that Thing 2 would follow his brother and his brother's friends around, or that if I asked Thing 2 who his friends were he would list his brother's friends.
We started swim lessons this week. Once again, because they are so close in age, they are in the same class. But something has changed. Instead of following his brother, Thing 2 went into the water first, and started playing with another boy on his own. This is just one small example of his newfound independence and confidence that I've been noticing.
I love watching the boys grow. Oh, don't kid yourself, they aggravate me, but the truth of the matter is that there is nothing better than watching them learn, live, and change. Like every parent, I want so badly for them to have the best lives they can have. So watching Thing 2 starting to spread his wings it brings me joy. Pure, unadulterated joy.
But lately I've noticed some specific examples of Thing 2 coming into his own. I remember last year when they both started preschool (side note - I may bitch about the state I live in, but we are very fortunate to have free preschool in our town - it's lottery based, but most people get into it and a state grant pays for it) at the local elementary school. As a four year old Thing 1 attended five mornings a week and even rode the bus. Thing 2, barely three, only attended two mornings a week. I had no reservations about Thing 1 in school - I knew he would be fine. But Thing 2...well, I knew that he would have trouble. Or, more accurately, that he might feel a bit lost. He was in the classroom right next to his brothers, and their classes were frequently combined for lessons. So I thought Thing 1 would take care of his little brother.
Wrong.
Not that he was awful to him, but Thing 1 had his own friends and his own agenda. I can't blame him for wanting his space and his own identity. But it was always so sad to me that Thing 2 would follow his brother and his brother's friends around, or that if I asked Thing 2 who his friends were he would list his brother's friends.
We started swim lessons this week. Once again, because they are so close in age, they are in the same class. But something has changed. Instead of following his brother, Thing 2 went into the water first, and started playing with another boy on his own. This is just one small example of his newfound independence and confidence that I've been noticing.
I love watching the boys grow. Oh, don't kid yourself, they aggravate me, but the truth of the matter is that there is nothing better than watching them learn, live, and change. Like every parent, I want so badly for them to have the best lives they can have. So watching Thing 2 starting to spread his wings it brings me joy. Pure, unadulterated joy.
Saturday, July 07, 2007
Weekly Rantings and Ravings
I think this should be a weekly segment. God knows I'm always bitching about something... :)
1. Thing 2 will be FOUR in August. Yet he continues to pee himself on a semi-regular basis. Since he has gone as long as week at a time not wetting himself, I know this is pure LAZINESS. I've bribed, I've rewarded, I've taken away, I've time-outed and quite frankly, I'm tired of it. But as a parent I'm not allowed to say WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING??? I'M FREAKIN' TIRED OF WASHING 42 PAIRS OF UNDERWEAR EACH WEEK! Which is what I am thinking. Every time he pees his pants.
2. Aside from the fact that she threatens to disinherit me on a semi-weekly basis, my mother is a fairly intelligent woman. So will someone tell me why she refuses to trust direct deposit??? My mother spends a lot of time in Atlantic City these days perfecting her second career as a professional gambler. So when she's out of town she then expects me to deposit her paychecks for her. And when I forget...well, let's just say that I'm probably going to be disinherited again this week.
3. I have diagnosed Thing 1 with CFD. What's that, you ask? It stands for "Can't Follow Directions". We're not talking difficult directions either. Example - an hour ago I say to him, in preparation for bedtime, what I say to him every night. "Take off your shorts and put them in the hamper". And, like he does every night, he takes off his shorts and underwear and then looks puzzled when I indicate that he doesn't need to sleep commando style. So then he picks up the underwear, twirls them around, does a few random circles, until I finally yell "PUT THOSE ON". Which leads me to Rant item 4.
4. Why, Why, WHY do my children only take me seriously when I yell at them? I repeat myself constantly, all day long, and it pisses me off that I need to yell to get their attention. I love them, but honestly, WHY?
1. Thing 2 will be FOUR in August. Yet he continues to pee himself on a semi-regular basis. Since he has gone as long as week at a time not wetting himself, I know this is pure LAZINESS. I've bribed, I've rewarded, I've taken away, I've time-outed and quite frankly, I'm tired of it. But as a parent I'm not allowed to say WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING??? I'M FREAKIN' TIRED OF WASHING 42 PAIRS OF UNDERWEAR EACH WEEK! Which is what I am thinking. Every time he pees his pants.
2. Aside from the fact that she threatens to disinherit me on a semi-weekly basis, my mother is a fairly intelligent woman. So will someone tell me why she refuses to trust direct deposit??? My mother spends a lot of time in Atlantic City these days perfecting her second career as a professional gambler. So when she's out of town she then expects me to deposit her paychecks for her. And when I forget...well, let's just say that I'm probably going to be disinherited again this week.
3. I have diagnosed Thing 1 with CFD. What's that, you ask? It stands for "Can't Follow Directions". We're not talking difficult directions either. Example - an hour ago I say to him, in preparation for bedtime, what I say to him every night. "Take off your shorts and put them in the hamper". And, like he does every night, he takes off his shorts and underwear and then looks puzzled when I indicate that he doesn't need to sleep commando style. So then he picks up the underwear, twirls them around, does a few random circles, until I finally yell "PUT THOSE ON". Which leads me to Rant item 4.
4. Why, Why, WHY do my children only take me seriously when I yell at them? I repeat myself constantly, all day long, and it pisses me off that I need to yell to get their attention. I love them, but honestly, WHY?
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Let me tell you a story...
about another July 3rd. My best friend had recently been cheated on by her boyfriend and was trying to get over it. As a result we were going out and she was "on the prowl".
I was barely 23 - single, living in a southern city, and really having a good time. We decided to go to a restaurant/bar that had some pool tables. After eating dinner, we started shooting pool.
Somewhere during the night two hotties walked in. My friend says to me (and I shall never forget this) "I want one of them!". Yeah, yeah, I think to myself, and turn around to take my next shot. By the time I finished shooting one of the hotties had found his way to her and was offering to pick up our tab if they could shoot pool with us. Of course we said yes to the offer (neglecting to mention that our dinner was still on the open tab).
Hottie #1 was very outgoing, charming and flirty. Hottie #2 was quiet and shy, but cute nonetheless. Soon there were more alcohol shots than pool shots going on at our table, and my friend and I had to make the required bathroom run together (because no self-respecting woman in a bar goes to the restroom alone, correct?). There we had an urgent discussion where I convinced her that the flirty one should be hers. I must now confess that this was mainly because his discussion of rehab from his cocaine addiction made me a bit nervous (oh boy Lambette - did I ever actually tell you this is why I pushed you towards him... :). Anywho, this meant I got the shy one.
Well, one $250 bar tab later, the guys got nothing but our phone numbers. Which they did call on the 4th of July, and we did all get together and hang out. By the following week my friend decided flirty guy wasn't for her - although she handled the cocaine rehab better than I, the handcuffs he pulled out on the 4th date were a bit much for her.
As for me - you've already guessed the end of this story. The shy one is indeed Nurse Hottie, and we met 11 years ago today.
I was barely 23 - single, living in a southern city, and really having a good time. We decided to go to a restaurant/bar that had some pool tables. After eating dinner, we started shooting pool.
Somewhere during the night two hotties walked in. My friend says to me (and I shall never forget this) "I want one of them!". Yeah, yeah, I think to myself, and turn around to take my next shot. By the time I finished shooting one of the hotties had found his way to her and was offering to pick up our tab if they could shoot pool with us. Of course we said yes to the offer (neglecting to mention that our dinner was still on the open tab).
Hottie #1 was very outgoing, charming and flirty. Hottie #2 was quiet and shy, but cute nonetheless. Soon there were more alcohol shots than pool shots going on at our table, and my friend and I had to make the required bathroom run together (because no self-respecting woman in a bar goes to the restroom alone, correct?). There we had an urgent discussion where I convinced her that the flirty one should be hers. I must now confess that this was mainly because his discussion of rehab from his cocaine addiction made me a bit nervous (oh boy Lambette - did I ever actually tell you this is why I pushed you towards him... :). Anywho, this meant I got the shy one.
Well, one $250 bar tab later, the guys got nothing but our phone numbers. Which they did call on the 4th of July, and we did all get together and hang out. By the following week my friend decided flirty guy wasn't for her - although she handled the cocaine rehab better than I, the handcuffs he pulled out on the 4th date were a bit much for her.
As for me - you've already guessed the end of this story. The shy one is indeed Nurse Hottie, and we met 11 years ago today.
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