Thursday, September 25, 2008
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!"
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
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.
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?!
Friday, September 19, 2008
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
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.
Monday, September 15, 2008
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.
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.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
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.
Friday, September 12, 2008
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.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
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!
Sunday, September 7, 2008
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.
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.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
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.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
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!****