Patience is a Virtue
Monday, February 27, 2006

There is a little plaque that hangs in my kitchen and it says "God grant me patience and I want it right NOW!".

This pretty much sums me up in one fell swoop. So add into this equation one ten year old boy who wants to learn to make cookies for his oral book report.

It involved a lot of teeth gritting on my part, exasperated "oh mom" on his part and a good hour of clean up time after(you try cleaning cookie dough off the ceiling quickly..dare ya).

Happily there were no burns, cuts, or bruised feelings by the time it was over.

I declare this little home economics lesson a success since I don't think I left him with any emotional scarring, although my teeth might never be the same again...

He loves me, He loves me not
Friday, February 24, 2006

I've said it before and I'll say it again...I don't understand men.

You say you love them, they catch the nearest Greyhound. You say you abhor them, they check the dictionary, then they declare their undying love...go figure.

There was this man, we were dating. It was nothing serious.

However, I didn't like how I was being treated and called it off. It was nothing big, but I don't like a man to come park his butt on my couch every night and call it dating. Can you say "YAWN".

So now I see him at my work now and then and his number will grace my caller ID from time to time but I just play blind and pretend I don't see it.

It's been about a month since the last call and last night he caught me because I have beginning Alzheimers and didn't recognize his phone number.

He wants another chance. I wont go into the details because let's face it, they're as boring as the relationship was, but he had a few chances and blew them all.

It seems the more curt I get with him and the more I say "no", the more he has decided that I really mean yes and he just has to convince me of the error of my ways.

So on this note, I have decided the next time I meet a man that I really would like a long term relationship with, I'm going to ignore the holly hell outta him. I going to plan my stealth attack like a well seasoned veteran and he'll never know what hit him.

I foresee marriage within the following year after that...

Spic and Span
Thursday, February 23, 2006

I love the smell of lavender and lilacs. I have scented drawer liners, air fresheners, perfume, even laundry soap.

While shopping I came across a great deal on some dish soap and was happy that it said "lavender scented".


Lavender does not invoke the image of clean dishes.

I know this now.
I didn't know it when I bought it, or the first time I used it, but after several loads of dirty dishes, I now know.

Lavender makes you think of clean laundry, summer days or feminine hygiene commercials but clean dishes?

Not so much.

Tuesday, February 21, 2006

I was eight years old when we moved home to Washington. My dad was career Army and wanted to finish out his thirty year stint at Fort Lewis. The day we moved into our new home off base was full of promises. It had this great wooden gate that was perfect for swinging on. As the drudgery of moving day went on around me, I was busy swinging on that gate, content with the world in motion. I remember looking up at the backyard balcony next door to see what I thought at a time was a boy fixing me with the best look of disdain a nine year old could display.

Thus began my life long friendship with Linda, who would be relieved to know that she is indeed, not a boy.

Linda and I have had our ups and downs, periods where we haven't talked to each other, times where our friendship has been tested to the breaking point, but we always have found our way back.

I'm not sure when friendship turns into family, but it has with us. We don't speak every day. There are days when we can't stand each other and there are days when we are the only person who understands the other without ever a word being spoken. I just know that I would do anything for her.

She practically lived at my house when we were kids. When we found out her parents were being transferred to Kansas I think my heart literally broke. She stayed with us the last two weeks before moving and I secretly prayed that her family would forget about her so I could keep her. Sadly for me, they came and got her in time for the move.

When my mom died two years ago Linda stated to me in her matter of fact way, "Kara, you're an orphan now. So I guess I'll just have to be your mom."

Our relationship is as complex and simple as any familial relationship can be. I trust her with my child, my secrets and my friendship. I love her as one can only love someone they have grown up with, weathered bad and good times with,and survived puberty with.

For most of my life, Linda has played a major role. I wonder sometimes if she knows how much that means to me. Both of us are so reserved, we tend to "do" instead of "say". We buckle down and do what needs to be done without asking for help, we suck it up and move forward instead of breaking down and loosing ground. We can be stubborn, pigheaded and isolated, but I would move mountains if she needed to get to the other side.

Sometimes with years comes a forgetfulness. We don't always tell people what they should hear, like, 'I am here for you, I would do anything to help you'. With familiarity sometimes comes complacency and I don't think I've told her often enough how much her being there has been a strength for me.

Our children are only a few years apart and we have raised them as family. They look at each with the annoyance of cousins that are thrown together whether they like it or not. It means something to me that our friendship has grown to include a whole new generation. That the things that bind us will bind them. That their memories will include each other, just as ours do.

The laughter, the fights, the spilled milk, it will all go on in them, even after we are gone. I hope that at our funerals they will be comfort to each other, that they can reach out to the other and say "I remember". I hope that they will be the family their mothers are and within that family Linda and I will always live on.

Weekend here I come
Friday, February 17, 2006

I'm feeling a little deflated today. It's been a hell of a week. First the daycare fiasco, then add in my cold that I'm still working through and then the hassle of trying to find a new daycare and then the worry about my sons test results to determine if he has a learning disability. the new daycare is going to be about forty five extra dollars a month(ouch), I went to the docs to get a regular prescription refilled and he took my temp and I was almost at 101 (and here I was thinking I was on the upswing) and I have two ear infections. I left with THREE prescriptions...LOL. And today I went to the school to go over the results.

Good news is that Kendell scored average on most everything. He scored high on verbal communication and language skills as well as speed and comprehension. However he scored low on Audible memory and math expression. The alarming one is the memory, it was very low. However, this is not unusual for a child with ADD. So, the outcome is he does not need an IEP but will be getting additional help on these areas.

So I've been doing a lot of soul searching and I'm just emotionally exhausted. Exhausted but also optimistic. Change is never easy, but often it's for the better. I think a lot of my anger at the daycare center was also guilt that I hadn't pulled him out sooner. So I'm letting go of these things that I can not change. I'm letting go of the worrying about whether Kendell has a learning disability and focus on the measures we are taking to make him successful. I am letting go of the anger and disappointment I have with his daycare provider and I am going to go home and rest.

I will spend a day bullshitting with an old friend and cuddle my sweet baby boy that will soon be too big for such things. I am going to go toss a soggy tennis ball for the furry dog monster and I am going to unclench my jaw if I have to take a crow bar to it.

Here's wishing you a weekend full of satisfied tummies, nose kisses and lazy Sunday mornings.

Daycare Hell
Wednesday, February 15, 2006

I've always been pretty in touch with myself. No, I did not say "touching myself", that's another blog entirely...uh hmmm, back to the subject.

I've always been pretty in touch with myself, meaning, I know who I am, flaws and all. I know what will set me off and why, but I'm not always able to stop myself. It's like I know that I eat when I'm depressed, but does that make me put down that twinkie..oh I think not. However, I'm very understanding with myself as I lick the cream off my fingers...sigh.

So, back to the point. I believe I do have a point here...oh yes, it's my sons daycare providers. I would like to drag their large arses out naked and hang them from the elementary school flag pool as an example that thou. shall. not. fuckith. with. my. SON!

Yes, I have violent tendencies.

Ok, quick recap. There is a demon spawn at my sons daycare. Damion had nothing on this child. I am not however without empathy as I have dealt with Kendell during our own emotion upheaval and know it's not easy. HOWEVER, the daycare providers have not exactly been a paragon of watchfulness. All year I have dealt with this child pummeling on my son. I have impressed upon Kendell the importance of telling on the child rather then beating him into a meaty bloody pulp, as I fantasize doing. (you know your a mother when you could happily whale on another child that is causing your child agony.)

this leads me to our current event section of this blog. Didn't know we had that did ya? That's ok, neither did I.

Ok, I'm digressing here...

Sooo, on Monday I get a call that Kendell is being suspended from daycare for a day for "assaulting" another child. Now, Assault, that's a pretty strong freaking word and already my back is up. I get to daycare and find out from Kendell that what happened is that this child hauled off and kicked kendell in his little future grandchildren maker and that essentially pushed Kendell over the proverbial edge. He then balled up his little ten yr old fists, yelled the war cry of "I'm gonna kill YOU!" and ran after said genital crasher and began raining a year of angst onto this other kids back and shoulders (that would be because Kendell can't reach the back of this child's head).

Since said daycare providers did not see the initial "kick off", they only punished Kendell.

Needless to say, I am currently looking for a more Kendell friendly environment that doesn't give me images of thumb racks and filleting daycare providers in my head. The last day of daycare I shall shoot eye daggers at them and leave with the telling line, "I do know where you work..."

I Fought the Dog and the Dog Won!
Tuesday, February 14, 2006

This is Buddy,

Buddy has ALOT of fur. Buddy likes to play outside and tangle that fur. However, Buddy HATES to be brushed. This Sunday I attempted to right the wrongs and tame the tresses of my little monster dog.

He was not happy.

Brushing consisted of me chasing him around the room with the brush and getting random brushes in as he races past. I then got the bright idea to tackle him and brush him. This is not as easy as it sounds. Buddy is 85 pounds of fur and Wiley Coyote tricks.

Eventually the scene in my living room resembled shearing day on a sheep farm with buddy on the ground and me with one leg thrown over him and one under him in a scissor lock, my left arm wrapped around his neck and my right hand brushing away at what ever I could reach. Seems like a workable deal right? Well, I forgot about his head.

He reared back and smacked his bony stubborn ass head right into my two front teeth.

Needless to say, I'm only eating soft foods for awhile...

Monday, February 13, 2006

At work I am helping in putting together a community services fair. It's a great idea and we try really hard to get organizations involved that help the community. My first year helping I contacted Alcoholics Anonymous. I thought they would be a great fit to have at our fair. They are a non profit organization that helps the community, hence, great fit. I get on the phone with them and go through my little speech. I finally get their permission to send out the information and I get to the step where I need an address and an addressee. So I ask whom should I address the envelope too.

I was met with resounding silence. The silence of incredulity. Evidently I had hit upon a quandary. I needed to address this to someone and they are all anonymous.


Can you say dilemma??

We settled on Attn: Office Manager

I have filed this under "Blonde Moment"

Friday, February 10, 2006

I have a child who likes to scare me. He lurks in dark corners, belly crawls across the floor, hides behind couches and chairs...all in preparation for adding grey hairs to my head.

Unfortunately I have no one to blame for this but myself. I spent quite a bit of his younger years scaring the life out of him. I loved to sneak up and tickle him or hide behind corners and pop out saying "gonna getcha" and chase him around while he squealed in laughter. One of our favorite games was sneaking around the car trying to get each other, both of us shaking with suppressed giggles and anticipation of making the other person screech in surprise. The neighbors think we're nuts.

Lately however he plays this game without me being privy to the fact that were playing a game. I'll be cooking dinner, moving from one cupboard to another, only to turn to find him right behind me. He almost got beamed with a frying pan for that one. Another time I'll be getting ready for work and doing my make up only to have him spring from behind the shower curtain. With visions of the movie Psycho dancing in my head I blinded myself with mascara, it's the only thing that saved him.

Somehow he doesn't see the difference between when I scare him and when he scares me...but I do.
He is young and agile,.. I'm getting old and could have a heart attack at any time. Hence, our new house rule....don't scare the mommy!

*Note, rule does not exclude scaring said small minor child....bwah ha ha

I hab a code in my node!

Karma is a bitch! I'm not sure what i've done to piss her off but boy is she spankin my butt right now. My sons all better but i'm on the receiving end of a major cold/flu knock out. Best part, all my sick time went to him so I get to be at work with this thing.

Since I am such a giving person, I am trying to sneeze on everything in order to share the wealth. What?? Don't look at me like that. When they get to call in sick they will thank me! They will stay home and watch oparah and eat bon bons....and then I can surf the net in peace darn it!

Thursday, February 09, 2006

When I was in first grade my teacher was Mrs. Durrio. I loved her, nay, Worshiped the ground she walked on. She used to give tickets for being good, and since I was so shy I was practically mute, I was considered VERY good. Now, you could take these tickets and buy a prize from the prize closet, or you could hoard a gazillion of them and get to spend the night at her house. The idea of that happening today just gives me the creeps.

But, off I went, overnight bag in hand. I spent the night and basically was treated like a miniature barbie by her two older daughters. I was in seventh heaven. The only snag was when they asked where my robe was. Robe? Hell, I'd just moved from Panama, I was just getting used to the idea of a coat....

Well this same beloved teacher of mine was the same one who told my mother that I would never learn how to spell. Mind you, this was first grade. Not only did she tell my mother this, she told her in front of me.

I believed her.

For the next two years I struggled with spelling. There were lots of tears and frustration at home till in fourth grade, when I had Mrs. Sullivan.
Now Mrs. Sullivan was very old and very mean. She was maybe four foot nothing with stark white hair and glasses. She was stoop shouldered and she could catch you cheating even if her back was to you. The whole class was petrified of her. Now being the mouse of a girl that I was, I barely spoke above a whisper to her and was seriously ashamed of my inability to spell. Raise my hand for help? Not even if I was bleeding buckets.
At my first parent teacher conference the dreaded subject came up...spelling. My mother informed Mrs. Sullivan about what Mrs. Durrio had said about me. The fire came into Mrs. Sullivans eyes, and I thought , "oh boy, I'm in for it now".
Instead she looked at me with that fierce look she had and said,
"That woman was full of HogWash! You listen up and listen good. You can spell! You and I will work all year if we have too but you can do it. I believe in you."

I loved her from that moment on.

Sick Days
Wednesday, February 08, 2006

My little short man has caught a cold. He has been trying to catch this same cold for about six months now. We've beaten it back with sticks and twigs but it seems to have persevered and overcame him with all of it's snot driven power.

Monday I kept him home from school, although he protested mightily. Assuring me in a weakened voice that he could make it (cough, cough, sniffle).

So he gets a day of lazing in bed, watching movies, eating snacks, basically being treated like a miniature monarch. He ate it up.

So today I was pre warned of an upcoming possible sick day. As we were heading to his school my son looked at me and said "so Mom, if I don't feel good will you come get me?" Translation: Mom, I really don't want to go to school today, so in about two hours I'm going to cough alot and basically look miserable so my teacher will let me call home. Ok?

I miss sick days. I haven't been allowed them since I became a Mom. Oh, I get sick work days. Days I drag my aching body into work, dripping bodily fluids, surrounded by a layer of used tissue paper. These are the days that my phone gets disinfected before anyone else will use it and they email me everything rather then speaking to me in person. I imagine they would like to drape my desk with bright yellow "Caution" tape.

If I do stay home, I still have to get up and get Kendell off too school. I then have a brief respite where I can recover by doing laundry, cleaning the house and making sure there is something for dinner. Once he's home, the honeymoon is over. Children do not understand sick parents.

Parents don't get sick. They don't use the bathroom alone or are allowed to speak on the phone without being asked a million times "who is it? huh huh". We are not allowed bad words without our own personal censor and we certainly are not allowed to wallow in our illness.

So I want to be the kid. I want tomato soup in bed. I want to wear my comfy pj's and have someone check my forehead for fever. I want to get out of any type of chore and sleep away the day. I want someone else to make the dinner and fold the clothes.

Since that wont happen I will settle for whining. I will whine on here, I will whine via email at work, and when I get home, I will whine to my son and make him feel guilty enough to clean his room.

Hey, who needs sick days when you have the power of guilt?? It's a mothers best friend.

God Bless the IRS!
Tuesday, February 07, 2006

Long exhale...I got my tax return. I was able to pay of some loans that were pending and get my feet back on solid ground. Thank you LORD. I don't remember being this giddy at my high school prom, and that's GIDDY people, trust me.

So while i'm not rolling in dough, I am not rolling in past due notices either. That makes me happy.
See, I'm easy to please! I have no idea what all those past boytoys are talking about..really.

Life is Gooooood

ahhh, If only it was this simple!

Too good strong winds, fast cars and open windows!

Soap Boxes
Friday, February 03, 2006

So I was visiting blogs the other day and stopped by Abstract Utopias blog. I like to leave comments when I visit. In fact, this is just a dastardly plot to entice other people to come see my site and leave comments. I know...evil of me.

However, I only leave comments that I truly mean. That's where I get into trouble...I insert foot into mouth...often.

Have you ever had something you felt strongly about and someone starts talking about it? Heck, they don't even have to be talking about it exactly, they can just touch on it, talk about something like it, maybe look at you funny, and BAM, you're off and running to your soap box.

Or maybe it's just me.

I not only hopped onto my soap box in Utopias blog, I jumped up and down on it and broke it into tiny little soap box pieces. You can read my rantings here. Utopia was commenting on the economic state of the union with Walmart as an, I was commenting on how the state encourages state assistant users to keep on assistance while not helping out those whom help themselves. Yea..uh, see? Same topic really..(cough, cough).

Sadly, I know this will not be the last time I publicly embarrass myself. I imagine there is much soul baring in store for me and much more parental embarrassment for my wee little one. So be it. My parents caused me endless teenage angst, it is my solemn duty to pass on this time honored tradition.

So to Utopia, kudos for a well written blog and apologies for my manic rantings that really had nothing to do with what you were talking about. I'd wash my mouth out with soap but the soap is currently in a box...the one I stand on...and I seem to still have need for it.

Loud, brash, opinionated...yup, glad to meet ya.

Wednesday, February 01, 2006

It's been two years today since we lost you.
Why is it that it still feels like yesterday? I'm having a hard time this year without you. Selfish of me I know, but I can't seem to help it. I spend a lot of time dwelling on your last months in the hospital, I don't want to do that today.

Today I want to dwell on your life.

I remember when I was little and my long blond hair flowed past my waist. I remember sitting down on it and how it would yank my head back. I remember hating to have you brush it cause it was always tangled and how you would bop me on the head with the brush cause I was wiggling around too much. Hurt at the time, makes me chuckle now. Might account for some brain damaged decisions I made over my life.

I remember joining Girl Scouts and how you became a leader in order to spend more time with me. I remember how over the years it changed to my remaining a Girl Scout in order to spend more time with you. Though I would never have admitted it.

I remember the first time I got to stay up late and play Shanghai rummy with you, your friends and my older sister. How grown up I felt sitting there with all these adults and getting to have my own Coke and eat snacks till I could barely hold my eyes open.

I remember how every Holiday you made seem magical and special. How you seeped traditions into our bones with every year that passed.

I remember the smell of Chantilly and lipstick. The smell of hairspray and Pallmall cigarettes.

I remember being able to find you in a crowded store simply by the sound of you clearing your throat.

I remember you trying to help me with math till we were both in tears. Funny how that seems to repeat with me and my own son.

I remember being tucked into the couch with a blanket and hot tea with milk when I was sick. Being served soup on a TV tray and getting to watch soap operas with you.

I remember how you came to each and every event in my life. Nothing was more important to you...Ever.

I remember how your face held no condemnation when I told you I was pregnant and alone, only love. How you spent all day researching my options, all of them. How you told me you would support me in whatever I chose.

I remember the look on your face when Kendell was born and he wasn't breathing well. How you were right there with him. I knew that it would be ok because you wouldn't let anything happen to him.

I remember trips to the army base PX. Wandering aimlessly around, just looking. Ice cream cones, even though I was too old for Mom to buy me one.

I remember the faith you put in me when we would see one of your doctors. Faith to defend you, to advocate for you.

I remember the last time you really saw me. Your eyes were so happy even though you were in the hospital and in so much pain. It was as if you were seeing me as a child again.

I remember each and every time you sacrificed for your children. The things you went without so that we could have.


I remember love.

Miss you mom.


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  • Name:Kara
  • Location: Tacoma, Washington, United States
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