Soccer, smoking and Girl Scout Cookies

So, yesterday was my QUIT DAY. Nothing to report other than it sucks.

We collected the forms for the cookie sale this week. Of course, there was one family that couldn't get it in on time. The mom called three times and said she was bringing it right over. She never showed. I saw her at Trivia Night (which by the way I rocked with my useless knowledge), she stopped me and said she'd bring it. She never brought it, SO I BROUGHT IT!!

I showed up at her house unannounced in my shin guards. I was ready for a fight. Gimme my dang cookie forms! I think she was intimidated by me standing there in shin guards. She didn't know I was on my way to soccer. I got my form, no excuses.

I arrive a little late for soccer, due to the "rough up" on the way. I was glad because I got to be on the team without Trucker Tammy, the bitch from last game. She scares me in the way that big mean women with bad hair and small woman complexes can. The only problem is that she could hurt me now that I was on the other team. She scowled at me and said, " PUT ON A RED JERSEY YOU'RE LATE!" She wasn't yelling, she was barking.

So, I played soccer. I got knocked down twice and have turf burn(that friggin hurts). I did unintentionally head the ball. Mostly I was just moving so I didn't "face" the ball. It made me look like I knew what I was doing. Trucker Tammy elbowed me a couple of times, but the cool thing is that big women with bad hair tend not to move as fast. I got around her and took my shot....the ball went under my foot and I fell on my ass. So much for my "SO THERE, BOITCH" moment.

I was then moved to defense. Not as much ball control needed there. I just have to stand in the way. The goalie kept yelling at me to "settle the ball". What the hell does that mean? Do I talk to it, reassure it, WHAT?

Finally the game was over and I was in better shape than I had been. My legs were tired but not spazzing and there were no pain induced hallucinations.

Oh FLU-EY!

C. has been back to school since the beginning of January. I went back on Tuesday. C. has had the flu all week. Of course!! J. helped out and the babysitter helped out so that I could at least conduct my first week of class. A. got it Saturday. The world hates me. But I have had the opportunity to see that the differences to men and women's responses to illness begin at a very young age.

C. , who is already motivationally challenged, was a pain in the ass. He couldn't do ANYTHING! Every time I asked him to, I don't know, wipe his butt, his response was...I CAN"T, I'M SICK!! At one point he actually told me he a was a "delicate boy" and would be unable to complete the task. Where the hell did that come from? He reminded me of his father just the weekend before. J. had caused his own illness and was unable to function, let alone get off the couch.

A. on the other hand, is never sick. Even with a 102 fever, she will swear to you that she is not sick. Anytime the thought of not going to school came up, she cried, " I"M NOT SICK!!" She's so afraid she is going to miss something. C. thinks nothing happens without him.

So, know J. and I are on preventive flu medication so that we don't get sick. J., of course is just mooching off my prescription because he can't believe the medical association wouldn't just give him a prescription over the phone. It's bullshit. I swear he is 70 years old.

BUUUUUUUFORD!!!

My daughter is a lovely child. She has big beautiful eyes and in always smiling. Today I wish she was not. I came home from work (my first day of school where everything went wrong) to find my son with a fever and my lovely daughter looking like a refugee from a truck stop.

She lost her front tooth eating a hot dog. The other one is hanging on by a thread, so is much "longer" than her other teeth. She won't just let me pull it. Anyhow, I come in the house and see her. She has on a raggedy baseball cap pulled down and a torn T-shirt. She smiles at me and I see it.....BUFORD, the gap toothed hillbilly. I can't even look at her without laughing. My beautiful little girl.

She overheard me talking to J.
"Mom, why did you call me Buford?"
"Well, honey, you look like a hillbilly."
"What's a hillbilly?"

With that I pulled out the family photo album and showed them the picture of my cousin's wedding, where they had an accordion for the musical entertainment and the port-o-potty next to the dance floor. The banjos began to play...

Dumb Blonde

I had a moment today. I took J.'s car today. I parked in the parking garage. J's car in pretty nondescript. When I returned in the afternoon, I attempted to break in to someone else's car. OOPS!

That BITES!

The mad biter has bit again. C. and I have been having some issues lately. He's lazy and stubborn as am I. Lucky for me I am bigger and meaner so I usually win. He absolutely gives me a run for my money.

Anyway, I get a call from C's school that he bit someone at school AGAIN!! I blew. The teacher was quick to his defense. Apparently he was provoked. Not good enough for me. That boy is mine. Well, when it was time to pick him up from school he took one look at my face and burst into tears. GOOD!! He's scared. If I were a GM I would be nurturing and loving and reassuring. It has been established that I am not one of those so as soon as the car door closed we had a good ole fashion COME TO JESUS.

Once we pulled up to the front of the house, C. refused to get out of the car. Did he really think I wouldn't leave his biter butt in the car ALL NIGHT! Don't tempt me boy. Eventually, I just grabbed him out kicking and screaming and took him to his room. We both needed a time out at that point.

Again, I found myself making the dreaded phone call. I have made it so many times I should just have my script taped to the refrigerator door instead of the emergency phone list.

It goes a little something like this:
Hello, (insert name). My name is Shannon and I am C's mother. I was informed that C. (hit, kicked, pushed, bit)your child, (insert name). Is (insert name) okay? I apologize that C. hurt (insert name). Thank you for not filing charges. Have a good night.

Hugging

As part of my CHANGE IN 08 slogan, I have decided to be more open and friendly. I went out to dinner with some previous co-workers on Sunday. We went to a bad Japanese restaurant that cooks right in front of you. I had a really hard time with a) the HUGE FIRE TWO INCHES FROM MY FACE and b) the cleanliness of the cooking area. But, I was a sport. I oohed and awed at the experience. At one point the very clever "chef" threw me a piece of chicken to catch in my mouth. NOT ME MAN! I don't know if that chicken has been thoroughly cooked, so it bounced off my shoulder and on to the floor. Oops.

So at the end of the evening it was time to go. Here comes the hugs. I take a deep breath and go in. I go down the line. I hate hugs.

Weight Watchers

So, I signed up for Weight Watchers online. I don't do meetings very well, so the online plan was the only way. The FRIGGIN computer says I need to lose 20 pounds. WHAT?!?!?!? I haven't weighed what it says I should since I was 26. I have like two points a day that I can eat and I am hungry all the time. My precious coffee takes up most of my points. My activity tracker is supposed to swap points when I am active. However, everything that I put in the computer says that I am not active enough for a point. It's a long walk from the parking garage to the office. I take the stairs!! NOTHING!!

It's only been two days.

Healthy New Year

I am trying to lose weight before I quit smoking. I have been trying really hard for about ten days which is ten days longer than any previous attempt. I haven't lost any weight. Screw healthy.

In Over My Head

I know that I sound like a big ole whine bag...but I am. So here's my whine. I just started to work full time. That is going in everyday and staying all day. School hasn't started yet so it's not too stressful but I am afraid of what is to come. I have meetings to go to, which I hate by the way, emails to respond to, phone calls to take. People need to talk to me. I don't like it. I liked it better when I was on my own. I'm a maverick, a wild one, a rebel.

I have come to new respect for working mothers. You work hard, you come home, you work some more then you go to bed. I miss my kid free, husband free days. So anyway, not everyone in my home is adjusting as well to the changes that come with a working mom. Not everyone gets that having to leave in the middle of a meeting during your first week of work to get kids from school may be stressful. Not everyone understands that running errands for other members of the family and cleaning toilets and folding laundry are at the top of the list of things to do anymore.

The big issue right now is Girl Scout cookies. I will do as much( or as little) as I need to do to sell cookies. Not everyone in my family agrees with this philosophy. Not everyone in my family believes that doing the bare minimum to make a good showing for something that is meaningless in the grand scale of life is "good enough". However, when I pointed out that if not everyone liked the way I was doing things they were more than welcome to step in and take over. Not everyone liked that response.

Lovely Rita Meter Maid

Holy crap am I sore today! I thought yesterday was bad. Anyhow, that's not really blogworthy but it sets the stage for the incident that happened today. Due to the fact that my legs hurt I parked at the meters today instead of the parking garage which is a WHOLE lot further to the office. I am very good about keeping up with my meter because I have been ticketed for being 2 minutes over.

Because I knew that it would take me a good long while to get to the meter RIGHT outside the building I gave myself plenty of time....but I miscalculated. I was five minutes behind. I couldn't hurry, I could barely walk. I get outside and I see her. She weighs about 300 lbs and walks as fast as I do. We are on opposite sides of the walk. There is nothing between me and a $10 dollar parking ticket except sore legs and a big fat meter maid. We are in a race, who wobbles the fastest. I look her in the eye. She is a force. I get my quarters out....I am too late.

You all know the rest. The shame and the defeat of the parking ticket. The song stuck in your head.

I Have Lost My Mind

I know this is not difficult to have predicted but it has officially happened. As I pondered my goals for 2008, they seem to be the same as for the last 10 years: lose weight, get in shape, quit smoking. Blah, blah, blah. Well on Saturday morning after an especially smokey night, I open the mail to find that if I don't quit smoking by the end of February that we will have to pay a $600 fine to the insurance company. My quit date is January 19th.

So, the next thing is getting in shape. I looked and looked for something to do. I hate to exercise so when I was not able to find that sit on your ass class and drink coffee while burning 2000 calories, I had to get creative.

I joined the over thirty women's soccer league. I played last night. I showed up in my running shoes and raggedy shorts. It was supposed to be a pick up game, but these women meant business. They had shin guards and sports goggles and indoor cleats. I was intimidated. So, I get out there. Not so bad. I am running and kicking and falling. Indoor is a little faster than outdoor and I had just had a cigarette on the way to the arena. After about 25 minutes I looked at the clock and THOUGHT it said that we were twenty minutes OVER time. Thank the Lord Jesus. I made it. It wasn't so bad. I get ready to get off the field. Someone shouts to me that we still have forty minutes to go.

As always, I can find someone I hate within the first twenty minutes. I made the mistake of telling my team that I had not played since the fifth grade and may be a little rusty. Well, this bull of a woman took that to mean I was a COMPLETE idiot. She barked orders at me the whole time. She is our unofficial coach. I am hard to coach. However, all the other women seem to respect her and give to her whims. We are going to have problems. At one point as I am mouthing "shut the fuck up" to myself (girl in a bubble syndrome), one of the other players sees me and may have read my lips. NICE!

So, finally I get into the swing of things. I am falling and missing kicks but am really being aggressive and "getting in there". I catch a fast break. HOLY CRAP VISIONS OF FIFTH GRADE COME FLOODING BACK!! Down the field I go. I am moving pretty fast for someone who has not moved faster than a stroll in ten years. I can't believe it. I am totally rocking this. BLAM! I trip over the ball and land on my face. I can't even blame anyone else for charging me. I just plain ole fell. Maybe I do need coaching.

It is my turn to play goalie. I am a big ole baby so this may not be the position for me. I am okay because it gives me a chance to catch my breath. I have jelly legs at this point and may actually be hallucinating. I think I see chasers. My hips, hamstrings (if women have those) and lower back are making it known that they will pay me back dearly for this offense of exercise.
The field turns towards me. It takes me a minute to realize that I am not a spectator but actually the last line of defense and these women are going to be kicking a ball at my face in a matter of seconds. PANIC!!! The ball comes flying at me, but not at my face, rather my thigh. (Luckily they are big these days.) SMACK!!! The sound of ball on flesh, my flesh. Pain shoots up my leg!! That is gonna bruise. I try to shake it off. I can't let them see me cry. But it really hurts.

Finally the game has ended and it is time to go home. I wobble home, the imprint of the ball tattooed into my leg. My legs begin to spasm with every step. What have I done? They want me to come back next week. They like me....they really like me.

McGruff gets flipped off

Happy New Year my friends! Hope you all are well. I apologize for my absence, although I do realize it is only an issue for Katie and Dee. No too much has been going on, thankfully.
Here's the lowdown:
1. Made it through Christmas with no illnesses or tears.
2. Moved into my office. I feel claustrophobic and have to leave after two hours.

Man, that's it. So now that you are caught up to date, I can tell you what happened last Friday.

I was getting into my car and saw a suspicious car across the street. There were two guys just sitting in the car. Well, I gave them the ole stink eye. I wanted them to know that I knew they were there. Well the little bastard flipped me off. WE WAS ON!!! So I drove down the street a ways and called the fuzz. We've been having a series of break ins in the neighborhood, so I believe I was doing what the neighbors would want. I explain to dispatch that I KNOW it is not illegal to flip someone off but could they please send a cruiser to check it out.

I was on my way to work but had to see what happened. It then occurred to me that not only did those two men know what I look like, they know where I live and the car I drive. Hmmmm. Paranoia sets in. As stealth as I can be in a huge white SUV, I begin driving down alleys and peeking around corners. The police arrive, talk to the guys and leave. They must be construction guys. CRAP!!!

I call J. who laughs. He lets me know that they aren't going to try to kill me....they'll just key my car.