The Idiot Within

I've finally figured all this out, deep inside the most intelligent man is an idiot screaming to get out and be free. Case in point, just in the event a man should stumble across this and become offended. Don't most men hide when it comes to chores? I know Rainbird does; he'll hide in the basement. Have I ever posted about our basement? Well, it's been a work in progress since we moved into our house. A completely unfinished space, well nearly completely, he did carve out a small area for a home office. The latest bug he's got up his ass is for a bar/tasting area and wine cellar...whooo boy! I know my nipples are hard just thinking about it! He went out, brazenly bought all this drywall, wood, nails, and whatever else he needed, setting to work one weekend last year. He started framing the room, then put up the drywall, sanded and painted a week ago. He's got big plans for that room...Big plans I'll tell yah.

Now, as I said in the beginning, he's an idiot. Let me explain further so everyone may understand, he goes down into the basement, with Pissboy to do some work. Pissboy doesn't really want to be there, he'd much rather be playing some Super Mario Brother's piece of shit or drawing pictures. Anyway, as I said, Pissboy doesn't want to be there, so he plays stupid. Rainbird will ask for a hammer, and Pissboy will disappear for an hour looking for one, or so Rainbird could be led to believe if he wasn't the same fucking way about taking out the garbage on Wednesday nights. He's thoroughly educated our sons to be idiots. To play stupid when it suits their purpose and now I'm seeing this in Fredo too, when I go over his flash cards, he pretends not to know any letters (yes we're still working on fucking letters but he knows numbers especially the number 3 since that's a bad number). He will look at the letter "F" the first letter in his name (Letter altered to make point) and say he doesn't know even though he wrote a hundred of them all over the Toys R Us book just a month and a half ago. Don't get me started.

You might be mistaken to think that Rainbird is the smart one in the group, but he's just as idiotic as the other boys in this house. He's spending G-d knows how much money to build a room down there that will be a tasting room and wine cellar, but how often will it ever be used? I'm guessing about as often as the $7000 hot tub in the back yard that he never asked if he could have, just went out and purchased one day on a whim. He uses that about once a month if he's lucky during the winter, spring and fall months, twice a month in the summer time.

Message In A Bottle

Today wasn't an awful day, just more or less a regular one. Fredo was better at school earning back TV for the evening hours, went to bed without arguing, and got excited when we watched Jimmy Neutron together. Maybe that’s part of his issue--maybe he feels a little or more than a little, ignored.

In any event tonight things went from being rather zany to more somber, I was reading something a friend had written, and thought to myself, blogging is more or less like sending a message in a bottle. When you write a message, pop it into a bottle and throw it into the ocean, you have no idea if anyone will ever see it, let alone read it. It could say anything--you could write, "I'm here." Or you could write about your life, a bad day or a good one. The message in a bottle idea is that it's highly likely that no one will ever read it. Blogging is similar; sometimes you just want to send a thought out into cyberspace, and not really expect a reply (though replies are always welcome).

Occasionally someone will stumble across your blog, pondering with you the dilemmas you face, or laughing about your day, shedding tears over a recent heartbreak. Faceless, nameless people might spend a minute, an hour, or an evening pouring through what you’ve written, but you’ll never know it. Maybe that’s how it should be.

Fredo Revisited

Well he had a horrible day at school today. The teacher didn't call us, but she wrote on his daily note; he wasn't looking at her, he was touching others instead of doing his work. He was crying all day and didn't do his class work, which in turn resulted in his missing recess, which in turn resulted in him being sent to the office. When he calmed down, he was allowed to return.

When he got home from school, he told me flat-out that he didn't have his paper so yes he lied. I looked in his backpack anyway, and saw it, I guess in case he gets smarter, I should call each day he doesn't bring one home (this does happen occasionally). The whole week he's been terrible at home, but not too badly (not like this), at school. Once he was home, he lied again, telling me that he hadn't cried; his teacher was lying to me. He screamed for a long time, crying whining because I told him he's not watching TV until he brings home an excellent report. He kept trying to make deals--no deals--Not any more.

When he wouldn't stop, I started cleaning his room, removing all his stuff that he had on his bed, and arranged on the floor. I told him he could get his things back when he calms down. I also threw some stuff into his toy box. After he still refused to calm down, I went back for round two, this time with a garbage bag. That really pissed him off but, funny, I still have a box in the closet filled with that shit and he has yet to ask for it back, the garbage bag filled with stuff is back in his room. If he goes a while without asking for the stuff in box, I'm going to go through it and throw most of it away (it's mostly old happy meal toys).

Right now he's playing with playdoh, we read several stories today, and he's all caught up with his homework, and we worked on some flash cards again. I guess I'm doing a good job of keeping him occupied, which is part of his problem with wanting to watch so much TV. Honestly, I know we've made horrible mistake with letting him watch so much TV, it really does rot the brain, but now I don't know how to pull back on the amount of time he spends watching it.

I know I just have to suck it up and do it, endure the tears and get him over the hump.

What Is It Now?

It would seem that is my mantra for the day. Let's see, where exactly to begin? Rainbird decided a couple months ago, he hates all candles in the house and made me get rid of them all, of course these are scented candles and he does have allergies so, I shouldn't be complaining too much. I went out and bought a few unscented ones, then a few more. Why should I deny myself candles because he has a few allergies and occasionally suffers from asthma? After all, I clean the house every week, well, okay, I don't actually clean the house every week, but I think about it and that should count.

In any event it needs to be said, we were at war over candles, and finally reached a resolution. I'm allowed to have no more than 3 candles in each large room, smaller rooms I'm limited to only 1 and none can be scented. Fine, neither got what they wanted, but I wonder how long it will take for him to notice that I actually get more candles than I had before?

On to subject number two: Cleaning. As I stated earlier I do clean on occasion, but would rather spend time thinking about cleaning than actually the cleaning its self. It's just not high on my priority list; I'm sorry but it's true, sometimes Dr. Phil is more interesting to watch than vacuuming the carpets or dusting. I now pay my older son 10 dollars every two weeks to empty the dishwaher on demand (smartest thing I've ever done). After all, I do my part by having the computer remind me daily what household task is to be completed, I see the notes when they pop up, at 6AM, and promptly delete. Okay, I do all this before I've had adequate coffee and it quickly slips my mind. Is that my fault? Furthermore, so what if I spend weekends doing laundry? Its better than running around with Rainbird to play family when he gets that urge--especially, when he picks things that I find incredibly dull, and believe me, if I find them dull, you know that Piss-boy and Fredo aren't too excited about it either. Fredo starts whining, Piss-boy starts sniping at everyone, Rainbird yells and we all go home pissed off. Doesn't that sound like fun? Still he bitches about it. What the fuck does he care, he's never home anyway and when he is, he's sleeping or working anyway.

Besides isn't it nice to start the week with clean clothes?

A Very Good Day

Yesterday, was indeed a good day. For the first time since last June, I went and got my hair cut and even got brave enough to have a color job. I can't believe the difference, my hair hasn't been this color since I was 29 for the first time. Note: usage of the words "first time," I've been 29 for more years than I care to remember, but as long as idiots here keep asking to see my driver's license when I buy cigarettes at the gas station, I'll keep saying I'm 29. I told that to Rainbird, who made rude comments to the hairstyles I was proposing via email to my friends, and he quickly shot back that they weren't being nice by asking to see my ID, that was just the way they flirted up here.

Anyway, Rainbird--the Ass, made horrible comments before I went to get my hair done, I had printed pictures of the various styles I liked, and he said about each one...Well that's fine if you're 20. Then he said to me that he hates it when women try to look younger than they are (this led to the exchange I just wrote about and possibly puts it into perspective). In any event, I was nearly in tears by the time I got to the salon. E, the stylist, who is dating my friend, M, told me that some men just do that because they have a low self image. Yeah, that's Rainbird alright.

Anyway, I got the color and cut, it came out great, after that I was on cloud 9 for the rest of day, and I mean nothing could change my mood. Not even Smelly Guy's visit and me having to drive him home because he's too fucking lazy to buy a car of his own. Rainbird--The Ass did say he was sorry later but by that time, I didn't care and he's still not getting those golf clubs he wants, but I did otherwise accept the apology.

Yeah for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction, at least that's what Newton, the father of modern physics said once. Rainbird--The Ass, suggested that I get my hair done, then later that same day, lightly mentioned he wanted new golf clubs. I know he's thinking in his attorney mind, that it's a Quid pro quo. Yeah, 90 bucks for my hair, compared with a few hundred dollars for golf clubs, and I'm supposed to have the bleach rot my brain enough to say, "sure honey that sounds fine." Uh huh. I'm sure there will be more on this subject in the months or years even to come. Stand by.

A New Year?

What does the New Year represent? For some I'm sure it's a new beginning but for me, it's just another fucking year thankyouverymuch. Things will happen both good and bad, I'm sure because there is no such thing as a totally stress free year.

I started this year with a messy house and 13 days into the year, the house is still quite a mess, the only good thing is that I finally got a shredder and I feel like a government employee with all shit I've shredded so far. That did lead me to clean out a few drawers searching for more crap to shred. Piss-boy has developed the incredibly annoying habit of while comprehending exactly what I mean, doing something completely inane instead. For example I just asked him to bring me my glasses, and he starts to hand me a glass; now this could be interpreted several ways except for his tell-tale signs that give the kid away. For example, he'll repeat it, "Oh you want your glasses," his voice goes up level or two, then feigns surprise when I give him the mom-is-going-to-skin-you, look. He knows full well, what I was asking for, then he acts hurt when I'm into playing his game.

Over the holidays we gave the boys too much stuff, and don't get me started what the grandparents, and friends gave them. They are thoroughly spoiled and I have no more room for this shit, which is piling up all over the house. In any event, in a moment of maternal holiday weakness I got my little son the 7-11 Slurpee machine (I can hear the collective mom sighs), plus the added thought from Rainbird, commenting we could use it for making grown-up drinks. He hates slurpees whenever I got them for him before and honestly was suspicious about his motives for wanting one--I think he just wanted it because he thought it was cool. He's missed nearly a full week of school due to multiple illness' and Piss-boy lacking any common sense and finally went today. He brought home a great report, so I told him we could make Slurpees. I start opening the box and I knew I was in trouble.

I start going over the instructions, which read like stereo instructions, and I'm lost at number seven, so I ponder, and smoke a cigarette while the child inside the house is asking me if we're going to do it now. I whimper silently to the clouds above, thump out the cigarette and head back indoors. Carefully, I put together the machine, and finally get it work, we watch quietly as the machine starts to spin around. Five minutes later, we had a slurpee. I was kinda blown away by it. Fredo was less than impressed. Later we did it for older son, a little faster that time, and better results.

Rainbird decided later to try it out for Margaritas, it didn't work so well, I'm not sure why, except maybe he added too much Tequila. Oh well.

Saturday.......

This morning we woke to an unusually quiet house, I, being so unawake didn't even ponder, if I were the first up or not, all I knew is that I wanted coffee. Rainbird got up at the same time, followed quickly by the dog. We found the children playing a game quietly together, looking way too sweet, and causing us to watch for a moment or three, until we saw Fredo taking a sip out of can of soda. It's nine AM and Pissboy didn't consider that soda was not appropriate. Shit like that kinda sets the tone for the day. Rainbird told Pissboy to get dressed and that's when the trouble began.

Fredo is playing with Leapster Max, and is apparently playing a level more suitable for an older, okay I'll say it, smarter child. He doesn't know his fucking letters and he's trying to make words, so it's one frustration after another. I turn off the game, and notice that Piss-boy has created his own file, instead of just playing the crap that is MORE appropriate for his much younger brother.

Now, Fredo wants to play Piss-boy's file, which is like starting to read a novel in the middle, he's frustrated and I have no patience because since I overslept I have a screaming caffeine headache.

Which leads me to the final thought of the morning, I really hate it when I oversleep on weekends, and don't get my quiet time. I get really snappish when I sleep too late and don't have a cup of coffee within an hour of when I normally do. Also, waking up hurrying to check my email, and basically rushing is not the way to start the weekend.

This will now digress in a different but strangely related area of home organization. I used to be very organized, exceptionally so but somewhere along the way I got fat and lazy and at the very least the laziness is something I can do something about. I used to have a housework schedule that Rainbird had helped me organize that way, I wasn't spending weekend time cleaning. He would "help" by printing out the daily "to do" list and I would go down it checking off completed tasks. At some point in time, I decided the list was offensive, and told him not to bother. I kept with the schedule for a couple weeks afterward, then we moved and everything changed anyway, but then in this house we've been fairly schedule free.

Nothing's been done until it absofuckinglutely needs to be done, which means Rainbird isn't too happy, I'm not happy and the kids are thinking that the only time people clean is when they have to, and spend an entire day doing it. So, I spent a short amount of time, adding cleaning chores to my computer calendar, and the computer will remind me each morning what needs to be done, as long as I actually read it. Having the computer remind me has been helpful with remembering for the garbage and other things like that, so I assume it couldn't hurt for this also. At worst, I'll just annoy myself but it's better than going to Rainbird and admitting his way was a little better.