I’ve been fighting off the trifecta of misery.
Absessed tooth. (Dentist on Monday, yay!)
Sinus infection.
Chest cold.
I’m flat out praying for death.
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I went in with the intention of buying the ten dollar package. No more.
They will not talk me into a ton of pictures.
They will not talk me into a ton of pictures.
They will not talk me into a ton of pictures.
Dammit.
Anyone want a picture of my kids?
Senators Barack Obama and John McCain,
Hi, it’s me, Joe Voter for lack of a better name.
I’m the one you’re both after. That vote in Ohio. For the record, I’ve made my decision, not that it matters.
Please, for the love of God and all that is holy…
Please stop sending people to my house to talk to me about, well, you.
Please stop attempting to cram your message down my throat by buying up all of network television during prime time. I expect commercials. I don’t expect a half hour infomercial. And yes, I’m admitting it here. I watch tv.
And lastly, please, and I’m begging you here… Please stop calling my house. Particularly at 9 o’clock at night. I have children. Both of whom are typically asleep before nine pm. It’s bad form to wake them up. It’s really bad form.
Oh, and it REALLY pisses me off.
Thank you for your consideration.
Joe Voter
Never pass up the chance to tell your loved ones how much they mean to you.
Life is too short.
Heading to Newark for a day or two. I’ll have internet access, find me if you need me.
I truly believe that my 3-year-old is mischievous beyond her years.
Three years old.
She already knows that when Mommy is on the phone, either for five seconds or five minutes, it’s the perfect time for her to sneak off to the bathroom and “make herself up”.
At first it was just powder.
So I took my makeup bag and stashed it out of sight.
Next came the foundation incident. She found the makeup bag, (not so) strategically hidden in closet, and dumped an entire bottle out in the sink, but only after smearing what she could on her face.
I washed her face, and moved the makeup bag up to the cabinet above the sink. That was two weeks ago.
I thought I was in the clear. I mean she’s my daughter so she’s doomed to excessive height, but she’s only three. She’s certainly not tall enough to get into the medicine cabinet, right?
I was wrong. And while the picture I took was kinda cute and might make you think I snapped at her (all it takes is a sharp word from Mommy and the tears come) , the truth is, I was scared.
Not because she decorated herself with my lipstick, but because my three year old jumped up on the toilet, climbed up onto the sink, and got into the medicine cabinet. Where drugs are stored. Not just my makeup. All of them are in the proper script containers, childproof for crying out loud, but still. FC proved to me that he could open a rx bottle of ibuprofen at the age of four.
And she did all of this in the few minutes I spent on the phone talking to my Mom. Not ten minutes, hell, barely five if even.
From now on I don’t talk on the phone unless it’s a cordless.
I was talking to a long lost friend tonight. (Thank you Facebook!)
Friend: “So, do you still come with a disclaimer?”
Epi: (more or less) “Huh?”
Friend: “You used to say that you came with a disclaimer…”
What the HELL happened to me?
I used to come with a disclaimer? Screw that. This old girl, with her grey hairs and wrinkles (or laugh lines if you prefer) STILL comes with a disclaimer.
Even after two kids and a marriage, and ten years removed. Oh yeah baby.
I just need to figure out what it is.
Time for the annual trip to the Toledo Zoo for the Pumpkin Path. The kids get decked out in their Halloween finery and we head out and brave the crowds to enjoy ourselves for an afternoon. Or as the kids say, score some candy.
But first, the preparations. We have to get Sleeping Beauty ready. Makeup (not too much, we’re not going for the baby beauty pageant look here), dress and tiara.
Second we get Captain Jack Sparrow ready for his debut. I have the Non-Biological Son again this weekend and he’s one heck of a pirate but lacking the copious amounts of alcohol, monkey, and eyeliner that Captain Jack had in his movies. We’re okay with that as eyeliner is for sissies, Monkey’s poop everywhere, and I figure I’ll save the liquor for after the kids go to bed. I’ll need it more than he will anyway.
Following Captain Jack is FC starring as Anakin Skywalker. It doesn’t matter that he’s never seen any of the movies… All he knows is that lightsaber’s are very cool. And yes, for those Michigan fans out there, he’s wearing a Toledo Rocket’s hat. *Grumbles under her breath*
With everyone suitably dressed, we head out to the Toledo Zoo. We arrive approximately half an hour after the gates open and we’re already at the midway point of the parking lot. About 15 miles from the the entrance.
“Mom, where do we go in?” Anakin is squinting.
Captain Jack pulls out his telescope and sweeps his field of view across the parking lot. He points due west.
West it is. We head in. The Princess, the Pirate and the Jedi Padawan who will eventually become a Sith Lord.
It’s always the quiet ones. I’m going to need to keep an eye on him.
It was chilly, so those who could wear their coats under their costumes did, and those who couldn’t, The Jedi and the Princess, resorted to being a Jedi and a Princess wearing a heavy fall jacket.
I wore a wool winter pea coat, gloves and a scarf. Hey, I get cold easily :)
The Princess decided she couldn’t walk any more and lept into Papa’s arms. She spent most of the day there, and Papa, for his part, didn’t complain. Not once.
The Motley Crew, posing. This was before the whining, the tears and the sugar buzz hit.
There were spiders. Everywhere. I’m not a fan. Even if they are ridiculously large and clearly fake. This one resembled one that I found in the garage last year. I think he winked at me.
Then this lovely specimen started eyeing me suspiciously. I herded the kids towards the next candy station. Maybe they have jello shots.
The animals might have made me a little nervous, but the colors were stunning. They were at their peak.
With numb fingers and wind burned faces we retreated into the aquarium building. Everyone was pretty impressed with “Nemo”. They found him and his twin sister pretty easily.
These jellyfish type things (?) were mesmerizing. I spent two minutes watching them before I had three voices yelling for me. The monsters want more candy. Happy place denied.
My stomach started growling. Hey, I didn’t have a candy bag to snack on, (and if I did I would have quickly ended up in a sugar coma. I saw this guy and instantly thought of lunch.
The little princess was starting to wear out anyway. I had to drag her away from this display. I’m not even sure what she was looking at, to be honest. The group was pushing forward towards the exit doors and we were quickly in danger of being left behind.
We were nearing the end of our trip. The kids candy bags were chock full of sugary goodness, we were all freezing. We just had one more stop to make. The new Africa exhibit. Polar Bears, seals, etc. I realized that I didn’t have any pictures of me with the kids (hey, mom has to jump in a picture every now and then!). The boys had already run off with Papa, so it was just myself and the little princess.
And the princess was not all that excited at having to stop for a picture. Not in the least bit. No amount of coaxing would entice her to look up at the camera. That’s what I get for letting her skip a nap.
She wanted to see the Polar Bears. Or Polar Bear in our case. I’m not sure where the babies and the other adults were. We did manage to get up close and personal with this one. He just stood there. Every two minutes or so he’d raise his head above the water and take a breath, then go right back to staring us down.
It was time to head home. But not before my moment of zen. This is a shot from under water looking up.
(Edited to add – Remember friends, I’m a very sarcastic person. I am not a racist.)
A conversation with a friend tonight…
Steve: I don’t understand why you’re not voting for Obama. You’re from the neighborhood, you went to *inner-city public high school* for fuckssake. You should identify with where he’s coming from.
Epi: And…
Steve: its because he’s black, right?
Epi: Yeah, Steve, it’s because he’s black.
Steve: I don’t understand why some think he’s going to suck as president just because he’s black. You surprise me.
Epi: Screw you Steve, it has nothing to do with him being black. And I don’t understand why people think that he’s due to be president JUST BECAUSE HE’S BLACK. I don’t care what color he is. I don’t understand why people can’t just research each candidate, and figure out who they identify more with?
Epi: Why does race have to play into it? Why can’t people just THINK FOR THEMSELVES????
Steve: you’re pissed off at me now?
Epi: no Steve I’m not pissed… I’m frustrated. The truth is I don’t give a fuck who you vote for. Just make it an educated decision.
*snip*
I’m very interested in politics and have been for an obsene amount of time considering my age. This conversation just pissed me off.
I’m just frustrated.
Like I said. I don’t care who you vote for, and that’s the honest to God truth. Ya’ll know where I stand.
Just make it an educated decision.
Do your research. And by research I don’t mean watching the national news.
There’s something about a comfy pair of shoes. They’re beat up, yes. They’re not stylish at all. In fact my Mom refers to them as the “Ugliest God awful things” she’s ever seen.
My beat to hell pink Crocs. Some of the best money ever spent.
They’re saying that we could have snow on monday.
Snow.
I hate Ohio.
I can’t believe that it’s 4:30 in the damn morning and I’m awake.
Tomorrow is going to hurt, and it starts in two hours.
Don’t drive drunk.
Particularly if you’re wearing assless chaps.
Just sayin’.
“Hey FC?” I’m sitting in the recliner, camera in hand, trying to come up with an idea for my POTD.
FC is relaxing on the loveseat, deeply engrossed in his Game Boy. “Yeah, Mom.”
Get this folks, my eight year old actually set his Game Boy down to talk to me. Without me having to ask.
“Do you remember when I taught you sign language?”
“Yeah Mom.”
“Do you remember how to say I love you?”
“Yeah Mom, like this, right?”
“Close, baby. Close.”
The kids love you guys :)(Yes, they were playing outside today, their nails have already been scrubbed.)
I’m pissed.
I’m pissed that at the last two jobs I’ve had my employers have paid me 8 bucks an hour and justified it by saying that we make our money on the overtime we work.
I’m pissed that in order to make enough money to support my family I had to work anywhere from 50-100 hours a week.
Here’s what really pisses me off. Those weeks that I really put the hours in, because of a special event coming up, or to pay off a bill, or just to sock a little extra money in the savings account… I was rewarded by being bumped up into a higher tax bracket.
And then there’s Joe.
This guy has been attacked by the media for one reason and one reason only. He was approached by the Golden Boy in front of cameras and dared to speak his mind. He wasn’t disrespectful. He just asked a question.
They’ve attacked him because his name isn’t really Joe. (It’s his middle name. I happen to know more than a few people who go buy their middle names.)
They’ve attacked him because he had unpaid taxes. (Something tells me there’s more than one Democrat out there with unpaid property taxes, just a hunch.)
They’ve attacked him because he doesn’t have a plumber’s license. (He’s covered by the business he works for as far as that goes.)
They’ve attacked him simply for being a registered Republican when he claimed that he was trying to decide who to vote for. (I guess that being a registered voter to a particular party means you no longer get to use your brain to make a decision… Hrm.)
They’ve claimed that he’s a plant for the Republican Party, and have even speculated that because he at one time lived in Alaska he has a connection to Sarah Palin. (This one makes the least sense to me. Honestly.)
Can you imagine if he admitted to owning guns or being pro-life? They’d be burning him in effigy.
So I have to enable comment moderation again.
Not that anyone really cares. :)
And for the Anon… You can talk about me. You can talk about me all you want.
You leave MY kids alone.
Sometimes it hurts.My Step Dad is the Chief Videographer for a local television station, and as such he gets to cover all kinds of news events that happen in the area.
Today, Sarah Palin was in NW Ohio.
I wish that my next lines were about how I got to meet her, or how he got to meet her, or how I scored something really cool from the rally, or that I even got to go to the rally.
No, Nope, Nada, Negative.
He is, apparently, SO important that he can pick and choose which events he covers and delegate the less desirable stories to his underlings. Lucky bastard.
So instead of covering the rally, he chose to go to the Whitehouse Corn Maze.
Surely you’ve heard of the Whitehouse Corn Maze… Every year they pick a patriotic theme… This year… Sarah Palin’s likeness.
And my Step Dad thought of me. The sole Republican in the family. The black sheep and red-headed step child (literally). He scored me a tshirt.
Thank you, Step Dad.
You rock.
And so does Sarah. Even in Corn Maze form.
Rev Medic over at EMS Haiku has been creating some beautiful works of art in the form of EMS related motivational posters… The one today on SSM is one of my favorites. Go check him out.
There’s more, but that’s a good start :)
I haven’t had this much mindless fun in months.
1966
1980
1984
1990. My freshman year. Hello, my name is Epi and I own stock in Aquanet and Rave 4.
1994 – My Senior Year. I really should post a copy of my actual Senior picture, it looks eerily similar to this one. Good Lord what was I thinking?
I’m not sure what it says about me that I’m as equally excited about a Cabela’s ad as I am about an American Girl catalog. Just not all that excited about what either of them will cost me.
Mopping the floor in the kitchen, particularly one as small as mine should take ten minutes tops.
Unless… I realize that there are a few spots that a mop can’t handle. Fossilized pudding, for example.
SO… I decide that the floor really could use a good hand washing. Which is going to take a little longer than ten minutes, but not more than half an hour.
Unless… I see that the floor boards are a little dusty. I can’t leave the floor boards dusty when the floor is going to be sparkly clean.
SO… I work diligently on the floor boards (or floor molding, or whatever you call them). It should only add a few more minutes on. Hey, I’m committed at this point.
Unless… I notice that there are spots on the walls. And look… there’s a spaghettio with a splatter of tomato sauce. Stuck to the damn wall.
SO… Committed to having a clean kitchen floor, I scrub the walls. This is clearly going to take longer than I had planned, but being committed (I’m going to have a clean floor dammit!) it doesn’t matter how long it’s going to take. It certainly wont take more than a few hours. Right? RIGHT????
Unless… Hey… what’s that spot on the cabinet?
Fast forward three hours.
Clean cabinets. Sparkling walls. Gleaming white floor boards. Spotless counter top, windows, window sills, even the ceiling fan was clean. Oh. And I organized his junk drawer, eliminating half the crap that had accumulated in it.
Okay, So what about the floor… You know. The floor? The floor I had originally wanted to clean?
One third of it is pristine. Two thirds are spot cleaned and mopped, but could definitely use some attention. And what about that god awful butchers block cart? That could use some help too…
I recently found this in my draft folder, I’m not sure if it was ever posted, or why it’s in there, but I thought I’d put it back up. — Epi
I’ve been asked quite a bit recently why I have my camera with me at all times. Here’s why. Some of my favorite moments:
The Moment my Step Dad proposed to my Mom (1994)
The moment I fell in love with my first child.
(Future Cardiologist, 2000)
The moment I realized how exhausting Parenting can be.
(FC and I again, 2000)
The Moment I realized that when I yell loud enough people listen.
(That’s a reporter in a what was the beginning of a sinkhole in my front yard. 2004)
The moment I realized that I know more than I give myself credit for.
(I won a years tuition at a local college for winning a trivia contest 2004)
The moment my Son met his baby Sister
(April 2005)
The last time I felt close to God. I’m working on it.
(She Who Rules Christening, 2005)
“The more the fear, the bigger the courage needed. People should not feel shame for fear or weakness. Life is full of uncertainty and fear. The rest of the world knows that; our world avoids thinking about it by watching TV.”
Dr. Rob at MODM. Go read.
Dear Family Member,
Thank you for thinking of She Who Rules and I when you signed me up for that American Girl catalog. We really appreciate it. She wants approximately $3500 worth of dolls, outfits, and random accessories.
And a pony. But that’s another post entirely.
I’m sure I can count on you to chip in come Christmas time :)
Love,
Epi
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