Monday, May 19, 2008

I'm better, mostly. ** MORE PICS ADDED **

EDIT: I love the convenience of having a camera with me at all times, but sometimes I take a ton of pics and forget what pics I took, and then I scroll back through them and realize I'd meant to post them. So here ya go.

I'm so sick of yogurt. EDITED TO ADD: Seriously, does this even look appetizing?? This is supposed to be Caramel Delight. Looks like poo.

I've been on antibiotics for about a month now, with the bronchitis and the strep. EDITED TO ADD: Check out the size of these fuckers.

When I originally picked up my prescription the pharmacist - a man - reminded me to eat a lot of yogurt while I was on the antibiotics because, as he put it,

"Ya don't wanna get a yeast infection..."

I even made him say it out loud again because I couldn't believe a GUY was trying to tell ME I didn't want to get a yeast infection. HELLO!??!! Of course I don't want to get a yeast infection.

Has HE ever had one? He doesn't even KNOW how much I don't want to get a yeast infection. He might have learned that in Pharmacy School, but I learned that shit in Girl School.

Plus, in Girl School graduation requirement Advanced Itchy Crotch 101 they taught us about the benefits of Cranberry Juice. Betcha didn't know that, dude.

Fortunately (I suppose), I've had too much going on to be sidelined by Feminine Itching. Last week was insane. R had taken several days off for various reasons. He took Monday off because that's the one day of the week that I am kid-free for a few hours in the morning, and it would be our last chance to spend a little time alone together for a while. And of course I was still sick that day, and not a whole lot of fun to be around.

Tuesday R worked and I was better enough to get through a typical Tuesday, hanging out with the boys in the morning and then getting Pie to school in the afternoon and then hanging out with Tito until everybody else gets home.

Wednesday I had agreed to help out at Beeb's Junior Achievement BizTown field trip. I got to work in the Print Shop EDITED TO ADD: with the woman (yes, woman) sporting the sexy denim suit in this picture, taken at another event.

She was totally checkin' me out. And so was this punkass kid:

But I honestly couldn't blame them. I'm smokin' hot.

Our stellar group made $97.55! Beeb was the CFO at Build-A-Bear Workshop, and it was a bit disturbing to see her lack of money management skills.

R took this day off so he could watch the boys while I was gone most of the day. And he spent four hours playing Star Wars Legos: The Complete Saga on Wii, at the request of Tito and Pie. Wednesday evening R and I went to pick up a Freecycled bunk bed for the boys. They LOVED it, and R was the hero of the day.

Thursday we didn't do a whole lot of anything except R went to Lowe's 3 times to pick up materials to build a kickass ladder for the aforementioned bunk bed and I went to lunch with KOFA Kevin. Later at home, the phone rang and it was my new best friend - the counselor from Beeb's school.

I didn't get a lot of the details, but apparently Beebie tried to strangle herself on the playground by tying her jacket around her neck on the swings after one of Beeb's friends dissed her for a boy. School policy is that if your kid tries to kill herself at school, you have to come and pick her up immediately, for her safety.

All I know is that the emotion behind it was her steadfast belief that EVERY girl in the fifth grade has a boyfriend except for her. Even just speaking mathematically, that's impossible. There are way more fifth grade girls than there are boys. And anyway, what are 10-year-olds doing with boyfriends? They can't drive. I'm not driving her and some boy to the mall and dropping her off for an hour or anything. Does she honestly think I'd even LET her have a boyfriend?

My initial reaction? As horrible as it is to say, I was pissed off. Insulted, even. Have I not done my job? I don't have the time or the energy or the financial resources to put into fixing her right now. And I really thought she was above all that - secure in herself and mature beyond her years. Seriously, after all that text messaging bullshit?

I had no idea what to do. I didn't want to say the wrong thing, I knew I couldn't be angry with her, so I asked the school counselor to refer me to someone Beeb could talk to. And guess what name the counselor give me? THERAPENNY. My therapist. What are the chances? Unbelievable.

Beebie, like every other 5th grade girl, believes that the reason why she doesn't have a boyfriend is because of her physical appearance. She wants me to let her shave her legs. I don't care, shave 'em, I said. But A) it's a total pain in the ass and once you start you can't ever stop and B) if think that once you shave your legs the boys are going to flock to you all of a sudden, you're going to be severely disappointed. But whatever, Beeb, if it makes you feel better about yourself, then be my guest. Shave your legs. Knock yourself out.

Thursday night was also the DARE (Say No To Drugs and whatnot) graduation where Beebie read her award-winning essay, which was on, of all things, rising above Peer Pressure. Poetic.

Friday night Beeb's Special Chorus sang the National Anthem at the Cardinals' game. Our seats were literally one row from the sky.

But the view was really quite spectacular, as long as you don't mind not being able to read the names on the players' jerseys.

I think it's funny to argue balls and strikes from the Upper Upper Deck.

The Cardinals lost, but we had a good time. There was this dude in the row in front of us eating rolled-up slices of salami, talking to himself with his hand over his ear (like he was the radio announcer giving the play-by-play), and cheering wildly and incessantly, even when there was no action on the field. He was seriously weird.

At one point I had to pee reeeeeally bad, but I was afraid to get up because if anyone walked past him, he'd hold his hand up for a high five. I know it's ironic - I'll flash anyone driving down Highway DD, but I just will not high-five a stranger. Especially one I'd observed eating salami and licking his fingers for the last two hours. Gih. No, thanks.

You can see him in the background of this pic, about to give a high-five to some random person in the stands.

Saturday R had to work, Pie had a party to go to, and it was a magnificent day outside, so the kids and I met KOFA Kev and his absolutely adorable little girl at the park for a little while. Nice time. And Kev got some seriously sharp-lookin new glasses. Yowza.

Sunday we took the kiddos to Grant's Farm for beers number 3 and 4. I tried the Bud Light Lime. Gotta say, I'm not a fan.

Seriously, how cute am I? EDITED TO ADD: Even the Clydesdales were turned on. Check it.

Later that afternoon, after much discussion, R and I reluctantly decided we'd go to Chez Inlaw next Saturday for their big Memorial Day shindig. I was hoping R would have to work and we'd be able to get out of it, but no such luck.

Anyway, we felt that our attendance would be a good move, politically. I hate that we have to think politically when it comes to the Inlaws, but whatever. I'm still pissed that FIL doesn't think I was sick. Perhaps more Germ Warfare Muffins soaked in rancid butter are in order.

Oh, and get this - I found out that when R and the kids were out there on Mother's Day, Beeb sent me a text message from R's phone, and FIL caught R checking it. He asked, "What, are you doing, sending Sarah a message???" Like, what the fuck business of yours anyway is it if my HUSBAND wants to send me a message to ask me how I'm feeling when I'm SICK AT HOME BY MYSELF WHILE MY HUSBAND AND KIDS ARE OUT THERE KISSING YOUR MISERABLE ASS ON MOTHER'S DAY, YOU FUCKING DOUCHE?

And R very, VERY foolishly brought up the fact that in the text message, Beeb had asked me to wax her eyebrow. She has the hereditary monobrow that I lived with until college because my mom never offered to wax it. FIL pounced on this instantly and got in Beeb's face, looking for the place Beeb wanted me to wax. "C'mere, lemme see... Do people even GET this close to you??" he asked her - totally all up in her grill. She was on the verge of tears, according to her. Last time we were out there, if you recall, he gave her a completely inappropriate amount of shit about her weight. No wonder the poor kid has such a fuckin complex about her appearance. Thanks a LOT, dick.

Mrs. Aldi had her back, in her signature completely half-assed manner... "Oh, it's a difficult age for girls..." And MIL, God love 'er, brought up Brooke Shields.

I was beyond FURIOUS at R, and I made him apologize to Beebie. R saw that this was really his fault for even bringing it up, and thank Christ I wasn't there, or I would have Torn. Shit. Up. Nobody will mess with my kid, or I will go into Mama Bear mode. Y'all have seen it. It ain't pretty.

Wanna know what I told Beeb to do if FIL ever hurts her feelings EVER, EVER again? I said, Beeb, he has NO idea how to deal with people's emotions. So if you tell him something he said or did hurt your feelings, he won't know what to do. He would be completely and utterly disarmed. He's clueless. So if he ever upsets you, just tell him that what he really hurt your feelings. And guess what? His brain would explode.

I almost hope he does something just so I can witness this.


Bezzie said...

Dude, she's totally going to make his brain explode, and then my dear, you will have no doubt even more so that you raised her right!

SiressYorkie said...

Wow. I haven't heard anyone use "all up in her grill" in, like, ages.

You could try telling Beeb that once a male creature thinks he's got you as his ho he thinks he f*cking owns you. Or that up close, boys actually smell really weird, and it's better to lust from far away. Or that her friends that have "boyfriends" really don't, and the boys just like them because they put out like crazy...

But somehow I don't think it would make a difference with her, really. Some things just have to take their own course...


Cheryl :) said...

Oh and it's just not 5th grade girls...I have the 5th grade male version... and we are going through the same kind of stuff. Maybe we should just have an arranged marraige and be done with it??

Kevin C said...

Just tell Beeb that I didn't get my first girlfriend until my junior year of high school, and I turned out just fine.

Wait, maybe I'm not such a good example.

But anyway, yes, you are definitely Hella F. Sexy. (When is that name change going through anyway? I need to be sure to update my cell phone entry.)

But how in the world did you get through a 5-6 paragraph discussion of yeast infection without using the word "cooter"? Seriously!

Poops said...

You know what I want? Five minutes alone with your fucking FIL. Nah, not even alone. I'll let anyone watch.

I'll make that bastard cry. He's an abusive tyrant and his regime needs to be brought down.

Five minutes, baby. That's all I need.

Please reassure Beeb that just because no boy has told her that he finds her hot, rest assured that at least one does. Only he's too shy to say anything because he's intimidated by her sheer hotness factor. And that by the time she's old enough to have a boyfriend, she'll have to beat them off with a stick.

Not that any of it will matter, because you cannot reason with a girl that age. You just can't. There's so much pressure to fit in and be like everyone else. And it starts so early. *sigh*

And as for shaving legs? If it makes a difference, you tell her I shave for only one man, and that's my ob/gyn.

JRS said...

Ah, poor Beebs. Tell her she doesn't want a boyfriend. They're more trouble than they're worth!

So she wants to shave? In Japan, women all shave their arms. I refuse to do so and have arm hair. I stand out like a sore thumb. But there's no way I can be convinced that I need razor nicks on my *arms*. WTF?!