Popsicles.

A few days ago, Emmi saw me replenish my tampon supply in my purse. I grabbed a few before I headed out the door, sliding them into the interior pocket. Her eyes lit up. "POPSICLE!" No matter what, I couldn't convince her it wasn't a popsicle. We fought about. She cried. Days later, I thought she had forgotten.

Kenny went to go meet his crew at the shop. Jill begged to go along. She loves going with him, afterall she too is going to "be a landscaper when she grows up." Emmi was ticked that she couldn't go. It is just too hard to watch her there. As the door shut behind Kenny and Jill, I leaned close to Emmi and whispered, "I have a treat for you." I intended to give her a piece of chocolate I had hidden away as a surprise, since she was so upset about not getting to go. And yes, I bribe my kids with food. Specifically chocolate. Let their therapists solve that one later in life, okay? Emmi ran ahead of me to the kitchen, straight for my purse. While I was busy locating the hidden chocolate, Emmi rummaged through my purse. She found what she was after and squealed with delight, her little feet tap dancing around the kitchen.

Curious, I abandoned my search for chocolate to see what had made Emmi so happy.

Proudly, Emmi held her beloved item up. She grinned. "POPSICLE!"

BrokedyBroke

Let me try to explain the state of the computers in our house. Handicapped. That is the best description. We have no less than four laptops. All four have some issue. One, we have no clue what happened to it. It just won't turn on. And, really, it was old. It needed to die. Then I have one kick ass laptop that unfortunately won't stay on simply because someone, let's call her Emmi, tripped over the power cord, breaking the pin. I have had it fixed, to the tune of $378, twice. It keeps breaking. We gave up and bought another used laptop. It worked for awhile. Until I tripped over the power cord making it to where you have to tuck the cord just so under the computer, stand on one foot, type only with your left hand, all while singing the alphabet backwards to make it work. Lesson learned. Quit leaving the damn things on the coffee table. And finally, my work provided me with a new computer less than a year ago. A month ago, we switched anti-virus software. Great move, apparently, cause my computer got a virus almost immediately. So I sent my computer off to be worked on.

I got it back last night. I was excited. I couldn't wait to turn it on. To see it up and running again.

Except it still isn't working. My whole hard drive wiped out and reloaded. And? The stupid thing still doesn't work.

To top it off. The idiot who worked on my computer to whom I sent no less than twelve emails all signed with my full name, SPELLED MY NAME WRONG all over my computer. "Welcome Trisha," my computer greets me. That's fantastic. Who is this Trisha? Last I checked, my name is Tricia.

Torment.

The week out of school for Hurricane Ike was not a lot of fun. There wasn't much to do with the kids beyond listen to them complain about all of the places we couldn't go that didn't have electricity. I was itching for school to start again. I mean all those years I waited to have both of my kids in full day school, then after three weeks of school Ike comes along, and *BAM* no school. And they kept extending the return day. First it was last Wednesday. Then Friday. Then Monday. Then finally, Tuesday. Us moms at the bus stop, we were giddy Tuesday morning.

And? Tuesday was just about the best day ever. My computer still wasn't back, so I still had some free time. After taking Emmi to therapy and dropping her off at school, I spent the morning and most of the afternoon with my friend, Stacy, and her new baby. I love babies....when I can give them back to their mommies after I am done snuggling them. I was in a great mood when the girls came home from school. The girls were in a good mood. Emmi loves school. Jill did great in gymnastics last night, making another new skill. She ran out of class to be scooped into a hug, rubbing her left eye.

"What's wrong with your eye?" She shrugged in reply.

Then. This morning. As I was daydreaming about another glorious day with the kids off at school, Jill walks into the kitchen. For the first time today, I see her in the light. And? Her eye is red. Really red. Pink eye.

NOOOOOOOOOO........ Really. She couldn't get pink eye when she was at home all week last week already?!

Past lives come back to haunt you.

Today was a long day. Emmi had an appointment at Texas Children's. It did not go well. It looks like another surgery is in our cards. Really? What did I do in my past life to deserve this? I sure hope I had fun doing whatever it was, cause it better have been worth it.

The worst thing ever.

It was time for the girls to come back home. My dad I decided to meet halfway between our two cities. (Okay mine is a city, his is a town). Halfway in between is a Starbucks. Hurricane Ike really disturbed my Starbucks drinking. It has been days since my last sip of iced white mocha with non-fat milk. The whole drive, I sang a little song to myself. "I'm getting coffee...I'm getting coffee!"

I practically jumped out of the car before it was parked. I could SMELL the coffee.

"A grande iced white mocha non-fat, please."

The barista smiled politely. "I'm sorry ma'am, we are out of white mocha syrup."

The color drained from my face. Tears came to my eyes. What a mean, horrible thing to say to me.

Meet the Pillburns

Jill has been double cursed. She has my mom (okay, okay. And me.) constantly mixing up and forgetting words and then, her dad, who can't pronounce anything right to blame for it. I mean, her dad loves some pico de guapo. Oh, and could you please pass the remoke? Then there is me (let's just blame my mom, though!) saying things like, "Bring me a coffee drink from the....oh what's that thing called? You know the big box that we keep the cold food in? Oh yes, fridge." Jill couldn't help but inherit some kind of issues.

In first grade, they learned all about the foundation of our country. Mayflower. Indians. Pilgrims. Jill excitedly explained all about it. "And then the Pillburns came over on the Mayflower." The who? Pillburns. It took me a good week to figure out she meant Pilgrims. I thought she was referring to one specific family. I finally corrected her. She insisted I was wrong. Kenny got involved. She seemed to believe him. I thought we have buried that. I thought wrong.

On Saturday morning, my parents had plans. By 11:30 the girls were hungry, and we decided to grab some food. Only problem? My dad had their carseats in his car from when they left Houston before the hurricane. I discovered extra carseats in my mom's car. Though the desk that always held the spare keys had been relegated to a back bedroom, I was sure they still kept the keys there. BINGO! We were off. I clicked on the radio finding nothing but classical music. Maybe we would get lucky with the CD.

"Two little kittens have lost their mittens, and they began to cry," blared through the speakers.

Kenny and I looked at each, grinning, and immediately began dancing. Jill and Emmi giggled in the back.

After a minute, Jill exclaimed, "You guys are dancing just like the PILLBURNS!"

Yep. Just like.

Oh Hurricane

Things I would do anything for:
1. ICE
2. Some gas
3. A real meal. One that does not come from a can. Preferably Chinese food.

AND SOME STARBUCKS. I forgot that.

I know we are doing good to have electricity. And we finally have water, but it is gross. The lines at one of the few gas stations that are open are looooooooong. Good luck finding bread or ice anywhere over here, and you can't waste your precious gas looking for anything.

I am just tired of this hurricane stuff already. I can't even imagine how those poor people in Clear Lake, Galveston, Port Arthur, etc feel. Speaking of Port Arthur, that is where my family is from.... it was hit hard. My uncle, aunt, cousins, and grandmother will all be effected for awhile.

Hurricane Ike Part II

We have power. Two little streets in our whole neighborhood. The trade-off is we have no water. At all. Not one drop. We are using water from our pool to flush our toilets. Bathing? Nope. Washing hands? Good thing I have lots of baby wipes. But we are lucky. We have power. For now. It flickers on and off. We will have power for three hours, and then none for five. Enough to keep the house cool, and make ice for the cooler.

We drove around yesterday. Emmi's school is missing a section of roof. The playground is in bad shape. Jill's school appears to have fared better, but not by much. It is hard to describe the feeling of it all. Street after street of damage. House after house. No one escaped without something. We knew before we came back home that the fence was down, the shop damaged. I didn't expect two streets away to see roofs caved in and trees on top of house. The house directly across the street lost windows. I didn't expect the magnitude of it all. The destruction. The feeling of not even knowing where to begin.

One neighborhood over from us. The whole front half of the house is destroyed.

Kenny's shop. (No, not his truck. This is about two down from him.)

Behind the shop. Property belonging to our friend's company, now covered with the roof to the neighboring property. And a kayak!

Our backyard. Looking into eight surrounding yards. I expected our fence to be gone. I guess I never thought that ALL the fences would be down. And, really, Fence, did you have to fall in on all of our landscaping. The fence is nothing. All of our landscaping is destroyed. But again, we are lucky, and I am not complaining.

Hurricane Ike

UPDATE: So far we know that we lost our whole fence. We think that might be the extent of our damage! Kenny's grandparents' chimney fell over. They live a few streets from us. We are heading back as soon as the storm has passed with more ice and supplies for the neighbors (you know, the ones we like!).

We just received a call. The roof blew off Kenny's shop . Luckily, he anticipated this, and moved his equipment out. So he didn't loose any expensive equipment, just the space itself.

In my neighborhood yesterday.....

Ike Rita Go Away

Gas stations without gas.

At noon, my dad took the kids to Austin with him on his was out of town for work. Kenny and I originally decided to stay behind. At 11:30pm, we changed our minds, and left for my parents' house, arriving after 2am. The traffic was heavy, but not too bad. From Houston to Austin, only two gas stations had any gas left (Although, we filled up two of our cars days ago, and filled the truck early in the day yesterday. So we were fine.) The lines to get into those gas stations were backed up on the 290. It was slightly eerie.

I was apprehensive about leaving the house behind. What do you take? I doubt being on the northwest side of Houston that we will see more than a little siding and shingle damage. But the what-ifs are not fun. I took my baby blanket I have saved. My computer. Some files, passports, all the cash in our house. As I walked through the house, turning off both the AC units, all the lights, locking windows, I found Emmi's "Rar-Rar" left behind on her bed. I grabbed it, feeling that the little leopard couldn't weather the storm alone.

Happy Birthday Kenny!

It's Kenny's birthday. Although, he spends the day pouting that he is getting older and not yet rich enough and claiming he wants no gifts. The girls have other plans, though. I am being sent to buy cupcakes, balloons, and streamers for his "suprise party." And, even though I told him I wasn't getting him a gift, I did go out and get the exact present he wanted.

So Happy Birthday Kenny!

Now, I have cupcakes to go buy....Sheri, I think I will be right by your house, I am about to call you!

The Other Title...

made Jesus jump off a shelf. And we just couldn't have that, now could we, Tiffany?

I got into a discussion with a parent friend the other day about buying into the latest fads and toys. Basically, we were talking about another family who won't even let their daughter play with other children's Hannah Montana toys, because they say it will corrupt her. Something about the over-marketing of something or another. I kind of quit listening. I was busy giggling to myself, thinking, "I wonder what happens when they encounter a kid in a Hannah Montana shirt out in public. Do they run screaming?" They also, refuse to buy their children the "it" toys. Which I kind of understand. Although, I am mostly motivated from a lazy, I-refuse-to-stand-in-line standpoint. But how do you really shelter you kids from that completely? And? Does it really matter? I mean, you can claim all you want that this is a new phenomenon, but it isn't.

Remember the New Kids? Sleeping bags. T-shirts. Pillows. Dolls. Everything. And sure there were waiting lists for the Wii. But remember when the Nintendo first came out? Or perhaps Cabbage Patch dolls? Those goofy little dolls caused quite an uproar. People stood in lines. There were fights. It was on the news. Every kid had to have one and proudly display the adoption certificate. I needed one. And then one day, on the way home from a trip to Arkansas, of all places, we lucked out. A shipment of Cabbage Patch dolls. And my sister and I became the proud adoptive parents of two beautiful Cabbage Patch dolls.

Kenny and my sister's Cabbage Patch doll.

What? Is something funny? Are you laughing at my baby? It's probably cause you are jealous that you didn't get one of the last two Cabbage Patch dolls in Arkansas.

Who Loves Jon Stewart??

I do!

Kick Me.

I almost missed Emmi's therapy appointment this morning. Really, it was Tiffany's fault. She called me, and distracted me. But we made it in time. Emmi happily skipped down the hall after her therapist, and I settled in for my favorite thirty minutes of the day. Thirty uninterrupted minutes of reading. The morning appointments during school hours are generally quiet, with no other children in the waiting room. I have the place to myself. I had just opened my book to the first page when the door opened.

The mother looked rushed. She dragged her son behind her. A son that clearly looked like he possessed a good set of lungs that threatened to ruin the quiet of the waiting room. I eyed them as she signed in.

"We're here to see TherapistofEmmi's," the mother barked at the OfficeManager.

OfficeManager looked confused. "What time is your appointment? Therapist has a client with her now, and another scheduled right after that."

The mother put her hands on her hips. "Nine fifteen," she hissed. Impossible. That is Emmi's regular appointment time. The one she has had scheduled for a long time. OfficeManager politely explained so. "I am sorry. Therapist always sees the client she was with at this time every Thursday. For the whole year."

The mother grows more agitated. Her breathing increases. Her lips are pursed. Through gritted teeth she growls, "Two weeks ago I made these appointment. Two appointments a month. From now until December." She pauses then, realizing I am the only parent in the waiting room. "You!" She rushes toward, finger waggling. "You took my spot."

I laugh. "Uh. No. This is our regular spot. My kid has been coming here for two years." I smile. But it is forced. She is scaring me. OfficeManager is moving quickly from behind the desk.

With a quickness, the mother whips out an appointment card. Written clearly is the appointment for 9:15..... on September 3rd. "You know today is the 4th, right?" The color drains from the mother's face. Her jaw drops. There is nothing she can say or do. No backtracking. She grabs her son and hastily retreats, leaving OfficeManager and I nervously giggling.

Afterwards I wonder, do I have a "kick me" sign or something stuck to me. 'Cause I certainly seem to be attracting a lot of drama. I think I am going to hide out at home for awhile.

That's How Those Bitches Roll

In the middle of the neighbor drama, there has been more neighbor drama. I know, I know. You are sitting there like, "Is this for real?" But trust me. It is. Ask Tiffany. She has been listening to me bitch about it for days. Weeks. Okay, actually since I moved into this house. And I wouldn't believe it either, if I wasn't here to witness it. 'Cause this shit is straight out of high school, Mean Girls style.

Kenny owns two companies. One a real estate company that he tries to do very little with. He leaves that up to Rachel's hubby! The other company is a landscaping company that I thought was just some harebrained idea he came up with one day, but turns out, I was wrong. One day, our neighbor approached us and asked if Kenny could please have his sixteen-year-old son work for him. His son needed direction. He admired Kenny. Blah, blah fucking blah. Kenny said sure.

It was a big mistake. The kid could not hang. He was trying to work side-by-side with grown men who did this all day long. Kiddo was exhausted. He worked slower than the others, needed more direction, and was paid the same hourly rate. Kenny would have to hire an extra person to cover the work that Kiddo should have been doing, but couldn't manage. It ended up costing Kenny on the days he used him. But still Kenny would not go back on his word to the neighbor. Nor would he outright say that Kiddo was not a good worker. Instead, he called Kiddo whenever he had work for him. And? Kiddo started ignoring his calls. Ducking back into the house to avoid Kenny asking him to work. Making excuses why he couldn't show up on this day or that day. Kenny eventually gave up.

Kiddo was singing another tune, though. His version was that he was getting up early. Calling Kenny every day for work, and Kenny was flatout turning him down. Without confirming this, mother of kiddo immediately ran to all the neighbors to tell them how horrible I am. How she was no longer speaking to me, because of this. Bitch, please. First. I don't work for Kenny's company. I had nothing to do with this shit. Second. Your pansy, little son is lying.

I passed the information on to Kenny. "I am going to go over, and set this straight. This shit is beyond ridiculous." Kenny was furious. Kenny NEVER gets mad. After a minute, he looks at me, "Wait. Why is she mad at you, though."

Simple. "Cause that's how those bitches roll."

***That's for you Tiff!****