Tuesday, September 14, 2010


My oldest has lost his first tooth.
And his second one is quickly following.
And I'm not ready.
Bug was so cavalier about it. He was simply eating breakfast and smiled at me and I started screaming.
"Where is your tooth?"
Yes, I am a quiet rocket scientist first thing in the morning. Duh!
"It fell out."
"Last night."
"WHERE IS IT?" Cats in heat are quieter than I was as my voice became increasingly shrill.
"I dunno. On the floor. Daddy probably swept it up."
Knowing my husband had been asleep and hadn't OCD cleaned since early the pervious day, I yelled, "HE HASN'T SWEPT! FIND IT!"
And about 30 seconds later he dropped a baby tooth in my hand.
A tooth I had watched him grown only five and a hald years before. A tooth that was in every smiling picture I have of my son.
I was holding the Holy Grail.
And now I was going to have to be the blasted Tooth Fairy.
So we talked about Tooth Fairy protocol and how excited daddy would be. And I sent him off to school still grinning stupidly because my son's tooth had fallen out.
Not because he'd done anything stellar.
He'd lost a tooth.
My son, who freaks about germs and dirt, had failed to respond to losing a body part.
It seems like only yesterday I was so excited about that tooth popping through his baby gums, and now I can hold it in my hand and see the adult tooth shining through.
My baby is growing up, and he's got a gorgous toothless grin to show for it.

Tuesday, September 7, 2010

Someone pass me the lube?

Because I feel like I've been screwed.
I try to live a life that involves helping people.
Not all people, because, let's face it, some of you just aren't worth helping.
But some people are. And I try to help them.
And I continually get screwed without a 'thank you'.
Today was no different.
Someone I have helped for five long years. Someone I have given charity to, listened to, worried about, and tried to help out when we didn't have a pot to piss in.
I didn't expect a thank you.
I mean, one would have been nice and a show of good upbringing and manners, but still, wasn't necessary.
But instead she turned on me like a rabid skunk, biting me and smelling up the place as she walked away.
Cackling like a bleached blonde Brune Hilde. Not a pretty sight on a woman approaching the Geritol years.
I normally have no problem with verbal take downs, but I had all three heathens with me, so I bit my tongue almost completely off.
And I resisted the urge to follow her home and run her ass over.
I'm feeling remarkably mature right now.
Just me and my voodoo doll.
But I seriously don't understand why, when you've tried to help people out, they turn on you. Is it shame? Guilt? Hillbilly inbreeding?
I have decided, when I am Queen of the Universe (the election is next week--vote for me!) people with good hearts who get screwed over by demented cackling trolls who should step away from the Clairol before all their brain cells rot out will be visited by a special ops group simply called COSMIC BITCH SLAP. Their mission, which they will always choose to accept, is to slap the person into reality five, ten fifty times. How ever many times it takes for the synopses to start firing again and for them to realize where exactly they went wrong.
I have a few candidates already in mind.
Don't you?

These are the days

Of our lives. (Thank you MacDonald Carey!)
The construction is almost finished. We're in the home stretch. Which means I'm hoping to be done by Christmas.
The men folk who have been telling me they couldn't be rushed, things had to go at their own pace, have now begun rushing me to pick paint and wall texture and carpet.
Now they are waiting on me, and I kind of like it.
It's very Southern Belle of me to expect them to bow and serve me in my slightest whims.
Just call me Katie Scarlet, thank you very much.
The heathens have settled into school nicely. Bug is doing well. He has people there who know his game ahead of time and aren't taking any crap!
Seriously, they understand that his brilliant little brain sees the world in only black and white and those two colors don't make grey.
We have had no meltdowns. No fits, and only a few smaller incidents that go along with being six as well as having AS.
We'll take it.
Boo got into trouble at school for the first time last week. I almost fell over that my easy child, my pleaser, got into trouble.
The Man made him apoligize, but still, it's the principal of the thing. I can't have all three heathens be troublemakers. What kind of screwed up karmic biddy slap would that be?
I blame it all on their father's DNA.
I was a good child.
No matter what my mother says.