Catch-er Up-er

The Bean has been at college for a week and three days, today.  It's going remarkably well, and - get this - I didn't cry.  I mean, of course I miss him, I love him very much and he's like the adult portion of the light of my life (wow, that kind of sounded creepy.  by that I mean, the one that can play Jeopardy with me.), but he's so freaking happy, in love with his (hell hole) dorm room, his (rather ugly) college campus, all the amenities.

Look.  Jesus H., that's a tiny room.  You can't really tell, but he for sure could stretch his arms out and touch both walls.

It does look slightly better, now, since he has, you know, made his bed.

I mean, bottom line, I'm super glad that he's having fun, and the truth is...  well... kid created a lot of mess, a lot of trash, and a lot of dishes.  Not to mention laundry.  So it really is okay.

In the meantime, the little birdie has settled into first grade.  It took him a week or so to figure out how to behave in a way that does not result in notes home that say the following:

"Needs to work on talking, talking in the bathroom, talking in the lunch line, talking while teacher is talking, talking, talking, talking..."

That is a quote.  That's my baby.

Anyway, but so, it's all settling down and he's still a teensy bit in love with his teacher, who is "pretty."  Of course she is.  Six year old boys are so cute.

But not as cute as kittens...

First Grader's Biggest Fan

This week has the potential for big, giant suckiness.

The doodlebug started first day today.  Here's what it looked like.  Please note, my mom is responsible for the ridiculous haircut.

 Eyes closed picture.  Of course.

 Big ol' cheesy grin!

 "please can we be done??"

 Let's go, already!

 Look.  He's like, yes, I'm inquisitive and adorable, thank you very much.  New teacher will ADORE you!

 His new backpack has his initials embroidered on it.  Does LL Bean offer a replacement for when he loses it?

True to form, he insisted that he walk in by himself, this year.  He's a big boy.  I'd cry and sniff and such, but... eh.  It's not really that big of a deal.  I mean, I'm happy for him, I think he's going to have great fun, but I have bigger fish to fry.

Which is to say...

The big kid gets moved into his dorm on Sunday.  At college.  In another town than where I live.  Where he will then live.  Away from me.  Without me.

He promises that we can Skype frequently and still watch Jeopardy together and that sort of thing.  But.  Gulp.

I told him that he really doesn't NEED higher education, right, and so he should just stay home with me, but he didn't buy into that plan.

Kid is totally ready.  He has all sorts of electronica and then a fridge, a coffee pot, a toaster, a mass of tupperware...  He is much better set-up than I was, and I was going to school 2500 miles away from where my parents lived.  He's going to be about 60 miles away.

SIXTY GOD DAMN MILES IS 59 TOO FAR!!!

Ahem.

And so, today, I'm going to pick up the doodle and take him to the Soda Shoppe (I'm not sure if it is really douchy enough to be spelled like that, but I'm going to assume that it is) in Olde Towne (fuckit.).  And I'm going to try really hard to not get choked up that only one of my babies is still enrolled in the public school district...

I wonder if Ye Olde Shoppe serves Vodka...

Safety Ear Plug Needer

Let's play a game.  Let's pretend it is your work, and you pretty much have to be there, but there is jackhammering going on right outside your building, ergo, right outside your "office."  We can pretend you have a real office and don't work in a reception area if you want to.

Here's what makes that okay, at least somewhat okay.  Your boss doesn't bother to come into work until mid-afternoon, because the noise hurts her back.

Noise.  Hurts her back.  For serious.

Meanwhile, let's talk about how, the other day, you were at your mom's house, drinking with your mom and her friend, and you mentioned how much more fun you would have at work if you could have alcohol while you were there.  And then, all serious, your mom and her friend begin to tell you how simple this is to accomplish:  just fill up one of those grown-up sippy cups that we all have with Vodka, buy a diet coke for a mixer, et voila!

Um...

Yes.  My mother was trying to tell me how to be an alcoholic.  As per usual.

One of my friends said that I'm not an alcoholic, because I don't go to meetings.  Perfecto.

Anyway...  so the baby has been out of town for 10 days, and I'm suffering from serious silliness withdrawal.  He's coming home today, hopefully we can right this imbalance very quickly.

This is off topic (what topic, really, did we have?), but I've taken on a second job.  My very good friend Melissa, she has a distaste for laundry.  I know, right?  How can you not LOVE laundry?  Seriously??!!

But anyway, she went out of town, and I stole some of her laundry, and she has since concluded that she thinks it is worthwhile to pay me to do some of her laundry.  I don't even get that.  It's like being paid to eat candy.  Right?  I know!

But I'm stoked.  I enjoy it, and it basically will cover my extravagant desire to eat Outback on a regular basis.  ThanksbetoMelissa!

And that's all that's new.  So, pretty much nothing.  You know what?  I like cheese.  And bread.  Together or separately.  Happy Wednesday!

Gay Man's Girlfriend

I've been thinking about men.

Don't get me wrong, I've sworn I'm done with dating, and, I am, except unless they want to buy me free food or take me to a football game.  I do like football.

So I have kind of figured out my plan.  Let me know what you think.

I want to find a guy who is gay, and who knows he is gay, and who is OKAY with being gay (or is HAPPY to be gay--- even better!!!), but who needs to appear to be straight for whatever reason.  Let's say, his very religious and wealthy mother would disown him, or he works for the vatican but, obviously, not as a priest.

This man needs a "girlfriend," so that mama would keep his trust fund up, etc.

Here's why I'm the perfect person for this job:

1.  I'm ridiculously cute.
2.  I'm smart and well-spoken.
3.  I'm good at lying about the man I'm with (have had a rather lot of practice, ha ha)
4.  I'm a happy drunk.
5.  I have no interest in "hooking up."
6.  I'm fine with him "hooking up" with another guy, even while I'm at the event, as long as there is alcohol and a tv.
7.  We can share skin treatments and get pedicures together, and he will just look even more awesome because he is "in touch with his feminine side."

I'm so freaking serious, this is perfect.  If you know someone who needs a me, which is more or less, a sexless whore, let me know.  Straights need not apply.

Boring McBoring Blogger

My little baby boy is about to turn six.  Whoop-tee-doo, right, but it is.  He will only have a sixth birthday one time.  So shut up.

And so, I'm figuring out what to do for his birthday, which is to say, make him taco pie and give him a present.  Because that sweet baby needs a present.  OF COURSE HE DOES.

(actually, he needs nothing in the world, but I'll give him one, or three, because I really love him a LOT.)

After his dinner on Sunday, he's going to go away with his grandmother for a week, and I'm going to miss him like madness, but... it's good for him.  And probably for me and the Bean, too.  We have going-away-to-college shopping to do.

Gah.  Did I really just write that?

I don't have a lot of other things going on.  Just, you know, work, fireworks (which I didn't go watch, this year, so fuck it!) and church.  Time at the beach (because that's what I DO).  Time with friends.  On boats.  Because that is also what I DO...

Rolling along, round here.

To un-boring-ize this a little bit, I'll give you a video of a kitten, doing something that my kitten totally does:



Happy birthday, America.  Mama loves you...

Churchie McChurchiePants

Last night at church, someone (who obviously doesn't know my family that well) asked me if the Bean was my little brother.

HAHAHAHAHAHA.

As if I'd claim him if that were true.

LOL, JK.  Of course I would.  Maybe.

So when I responded that, no, he was my oldest son, the guy's eyes widened, and he said (I shit you not):  "you wear your age well!"

um.

My age?

How the fuck old AM I???

Anyway, so I go, "oh, no, I was actually much too young when he was born,"  which is pretty much 100% true.

The Bean is 18.  I was 18 when he was born.  I'm (barely) 37.

At a different moment in VBS, my friend Katie-bird, whom I adore, goes, "how old are you right now?" to the kids.  Who were, like, 8, 4, etc.  I go, "20!"

Then she goes, "how old will you be in four years?"

I go, "20!"

Vacation Bible School, which is now over, was pretty awesome.  Here are a few of my favorite moments:

1)  When asked, "what do you do if someone is bullying you," one small boy responded, brightly, with "bite him and kick him in the face!"

Awesome.

2)  I go, "do YOU want to tell me about a God Sighting," to another small boy.  He gets in the microphone, bats his eyelashes at me, and says, "I love you."  SWOOOOOOOON.

3)  "Hot dogs??  I LOVE HOT DOGS!!!  YES!  THIS IS THE BEST DAY EVER!!!"

4)  "Miss Sarah, do you need help tonight?"  I'm all, well, I'm sitting here, hiding under a tree, trying to smoke a cigarette, and I'm pretty unhappy that one of my favorite young people are busting me.  "yep."

5)  Caleb, into the microphone, "GODPROTECTSUSANDKEEPSUSSAFE"  Me, into the microphone, "Lord."

6)  Sometimes, an impromptu belting of Lean on Me around the piano is the only thing in the world that makes perfect sense.

7) "Oh, your name is Andrew?  Can I call you Andy?"  "um, okay."  "no?  How about Brian, I'll just call you Brian."

8) "How's it going, Gabby-The-Second??!!"

9) "Yeah, I just ate a plate of tater tots.  Now I'm having a plate of blueberries.  It's a balanced meal."

They got it, though.  And I'm not even going to do a 10), because the thing is, I heard them get it.  It's a cross, they said.  I can ALWAYS count on God, they said.  Kids are pretty badass.  So is Vacation Bible School.  So is my Katie.  So am I.  :)

Sucka

On Saturday, around 3:00, my mother and I had the following conversation:

Her:  "Oh, so Caleb is going to go to Vacation Bible School this week?  Are you working at it?"
Me:  "No.  Under NO CIRCUMSTANCES am I going to volunteer to do ANYTHING for it.  I am going to drop him off and read for two straight hours."

On Saturday, around 4:30, one of the nicest human beings I've ever met, and her name is Heidi, too, of course, called me and did this:

Her:  (almost weeping) "I am begging, I need you, I need your help, is there any way you could..."

Guess who is leading the music--- and pretty much the, like, majority, of Vacation Bible School?

That'd be me.  The sucka.

Truth is, I'm tired.  Truth is, I didn't have enough time to really learn the dances.  Truth is, I'd have loved another week to prepare.  Truth is, I completely, 100%, totally freaking ADORE it.  LOVE LOVE LOVE.

I should have been a teacher (says the girl who was certified and thinks, ah, maybe every summer, and then thinks, ah, hell no, every fall).

So that's what I'm up to.  That was a pun.  The theme this year is SKY- like, fly away with God, or something.  It's sort of confusing.  But it's funny.

By the way, so am I.

The only thing else to talk about is The Walking Dead, and WHY DID YOU PEOPLE KEEP THIS A SECRET FROM ME?

I'm almost caught up on Season Two.  WORD.

And, by the way?  I'm all mediated.  Like, all the way.  Like, I'm done with the divorcey-horseyshit, and that feels good.  I'm not divorced, but I will be, and it's fine, and I'm fine and I'm glad it's moving along, and a lot of the anger and resentment is moving along, etc.  So that's sort of awesome.

And I love my kitten.