Wednesday, September 17, 2014

a new floss-ify on life

I cried today.
 
Happy tears. Real, genuine, uninhibited ugly-cry happy tears.
 
The fucking pumpkin patches are going up around town. It was the greatest day of my life, I thought, as I drove Landon to his dentist appointment.
 
My mind began to swirl with thoughts of sweaters and boots and holiday parties and scarves and Santa and Christmas morning in our jammies- even though I was simultaneously sweating my balls off in the car. Yeah, it's still 100 degrees out, no I don't really have balls, but there's a light at the end of the tunnel. There's a reason to live.  I might be so hot my knuckles are perspiring, but we're gonna make it, guys.
 
Summer in Vegas is kinda like that one mom at your kid's friend's birthday party who makes you have a conversation with her, and you really want to make it stop, and to top it off, she's a close-talker. It's like, hey, this has gone on too long, I'm really uncomfortable, and I actually didn't want to be here in the first place. And in her defense, before you were engaged in conversation with her, she seemed like she might be alright, but after she pinned you down you realized she's just an aggressive soccer mom with hot breath. That's summer in Las Vegas. Go away. No one likes you. You're just too much.
 
So.
 
We get to the dentist.
 
Landon, as usual, is the most disturbingly adorable human being to ever walk the earth. He's sitting in the chair smiling and waving at me and repeatedly telling me I'm "so cute" and he loves me "so much". He's perfectly complying with everything the dental assistant asks of him and my heart is bursting with joy.
 
"You know what," I think, "I'm such a great mom. Look at my darling child. I did that. I'm awesome."
 
After the assistant adorably brushes Landon's adorable little teeth, ("that tickles my teeth!" the Squishmonster says) the dentist comes in and shakes my hand. I'm beaming so hard with pride and I'm so excited to hand over my darling son for someone new to fawn over, I feel like tiny hearts might be shooting from my eyeballs like little creepy son-obsessed love lasers. Freaking Lan. This kid. Gets me every time.
 
So I back away from the Christ-child to let the dentist do his thing. He looks up and inquires about the regularity of Landon's teeth brushing, to which I respond, "yes of cooourrrssse we thoroughly brush twice a day"... because I'm the greatest Mom who ever lived, remember? Look at this kid! He's perfection! I'm like the freaking Oprah of motherhood. I'm the best.
 
"Well, he has five cavities."
 
wait.
 
what.
 
Ok, maybe "Oprah" was a bit exaggerated.
 
Hold on, it gets worse.
 
As we are doing the kid-equivalent of the "walk of shame" through the office, while Landon is sorting through his dental goody bag, he picks up the floss, holds it straight up in the air just in case the people in the back couldn't see, and shouts a very concerned,
 
"MOMMY WHAT IS THIS."
 
It's FLOSS, Landon! Ughhhh. The dentist is all but shaking his head with disgust at me. I'm the Wendy Williams of motherhood. I'm the worst. Why does this always happen.
 
Anyway, his teeth are all getting fixed later this month, for all of you who are on hold with CPS. Put down the phone. AND the floss was in a weird circular container and it wasn't totally a floss-like floss so that's where his confusion stemmed from. Not like we floss every day anyway, but I feel like that needed to be noted.
 
On the defeated drive home, I started to really feel bad for myself. Why is it, that whenever I obtain a glimmer of confidence in myself am I pummeled with embarrassment? It doesn't seem fair.
 
Then I see a woman dressed in white jeans and a white top on the side of the road bawling. Her car is totaled. She has just crashed into a city bus. SHE has it rough today, not me.
 
I've gotta stop declaring an entire day as "bad". It's not fair. Because I know within that particular "bad day," I was woken up in the morning by my kids' kisses. They made me laugh at times. They made me very proud at times. Avery held Landon's hand all the way to the car after school and told him how much she missed him. I made productive decisions. Maybe I made someone laugh or made my own mother proud. And all that for nothing because my insanely darling son has a few magnifying-glass-level holes in his teeth?! C'mon.

It's all good. It's ALWAYS all good. It's liberating to be able to define your day/week/life based on what you choose. The good things. No more bad days! It's awesome. Today will not go down in history as the "cavity day" it will go down in history as the "Landon was an absolute angel at the dentist and omg pumpkins!" day.
 
 I totally had an epiphany today at the expense of that poor woman with the questionable fashion sense. So thanks for that. And as much as I want to point out to that woman, that she doesn't have to define today by it's calamities, I mean, seriously...  the "car is totaled worst day ever" day is fitting. She freaking hit a city bus....
 
Off to get Avery from school. Feeling autumn-y. Maybe I'll pick up a pumpkin spice latte on the way... sub water for chocolate milk for Lan, and I'll take my coffee iced please, thanks.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


Tuesday, September 16, 2014

..But is it convenient?

"...but is it convenient?"
 
I ask myself this a lot. It's kinda a requirement to constantly consider this while making any decision when you are endlessly dealing with little people who want absolutely nothing to do with helping you successfully complete your daily and/or life goals. I love my kids more than Christmas (that's serious for me), but 'convenient', they are not.
 
I've gotten my car washed at the same gas station for years. Not my first choice of car washes, but it's right near my house, and in the same parking lot as my gym, so you know, convenience, because waiting in a candy and slushee-filled waiting area with a five- and a three-year- old at any other car wash is the worst thing that's ever happened in my entire life, and dropping off my car, bringing the hooligans to the gym's day care so I can work out, and coming back doesn't suck quite as bad.  
 
That said, they're not that great at their job. And I'm certain the combined IQ of all seven of the car-washing employees is 37, but I can drop it off, go work out, and come back to a sort-of cleaner vehicle and not deal with candy-tantrums. Cantrums? I love making up words SO MUCH. 
 
Anyway, on one particular day a few years back, I reluctantly handed over my car keys to a Quasimodo-esque human, and when he pulled my car through the automatic carwash, both windshield wipers snapped clean off my car because he didn't remember to put them back down after he wiped the windshield. So cute.
 
I happened to watch it happen, and demanded they replace the wipers, which I had to go pick up from an auto parts store, and I wasted a good part of my day, and they paid for them. And they suck. And whatever.
 
But, believe it or not, I STILL use that carwash. So, again, convenience wins.
 
On a side note... the topic of 'convenience' popped into my head again yesterday as I searched Amazon in hopes of finding a gender specific car seat for Landon so my kids would stop fighting over their designated unisex seats. I thought, "it would certainly be convenient to have a boy-themed seat and a girl-themed seat..."
 
Then I found this.
 
 
 
"...but is it convenient?" NO. You know what? I'm sorry, but that right there is a rapist pedophile turtle. 1% off (was it really necessary to do the whole "slashed-price" thing...) in exchange for a lifetime of horrific nightmares? What are his hands intending to hold?! Why does he look like he wants to eat my fingernails?! What is that dangling flaccid strap situation all about?! Apparently at least 30 people, according to the number of reviews, own this little-boy-tushy-bait, and I'm willing to bet those 30 seats are strapped into unmarked white vans being driven by greasy men wearing nothing but long raincoats all across the nation.
 
So watch out for that.
 
Anyway, as you may know, this new school year has afforded me two half-days to myself thanks to my kids now being in preschool and Kindergarten. Today was my first half-day of the week-- three hours to skip through Target or go to the gym without a childcare appointment or take a nap or go grocery shopping. I did every afore-mentioned thing today besides take a nap, which was the only thing I really wanted to do, and decided to drop my car at my uber-convenient car wash while I took a spin class.
 
After my class I picked up my car which they kindly parked for me and one of the employees even reminded me to hold onto my receipt because "it might rain tomorrow" and they'd be happy to clean the car for me again, it's their policy.
 
Boy, that was nice of him. I'm such an asshole. Whyyyy do I judge everyone? Yeah, he looks like a moron, but he's a thoughtful moron. Get it together, Sofia.
 
My three hours are up and it's time to pick up my son from preschool. I consider what a lovely, productive, easygoing morning I've had and feel my ever-pulsating anxiety begin to subside bit by bit while I drive down the street. Then I hear a rattling sound. Is it in the glove compartment?! No. The cupholder?? No. WHAT THE HELL IS THAT SOUND?!
 
I'm punching the dashboard and shaking my steering wheel, then go to flick my windshield wipers, in hopes that I might loosen whatever it is that is causing my present craziness, and I notice that MY WINDSHIELD WIPERS ARE GONE.
 
Just two, sad, mechanical stubs swoosh back at forth, as if literally waving "bye bye" to my sanity.
 
I picked up Landon, drive right back to my favorite car wash, ask to speak to the manager, and he comes out of the building with my wipers in hand.
 
I am livid, demanding an explanation as to why a part of my car is in his hand and not attached to my vehicle. Swear to god, his response was a shoulder shrug. I ask him if this happens all the time or if they just hate me specifically.
 
"...shrug."
 
What. I hate you so much.
 
So, the iiiiidiottttt re-attached my wipers, they work fine, but now I gotta find a new car wash.
 
Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, I need a nap. And a glass of wine.
 
Which conveeeeniently I do have...
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


Monday, September 15, 2014

What sets YOU off?

I am out of gas. I mean, not totally out, but pushin' it.
 
My husband and I share his company's gas card for re-fueling purposes, so when I text him where I could meet him to grab it and fill 'er up, he responds "in hell," which he thought was funny and I thought was kinda mean, so after a couple seconds of purposely not acknowledging his awkward attempt at humor, he quickly sends over a, "I'm just kidding, I love you. I'm in Summerlin. Avery's school isn't too far away, you'll be fine."
Summerlin?! Ugghh he might as well be on a different planet.
 
Ok. Love you too, BUT, what you don't know, Mr. McHusbandface, is that I, your mostly Greek wife, despite what you may think, do not live and die by Avery's school schedule, and more importantly (!), without the help from a lovely esthetician, who is very aptly and ironically now that I think of it, named Hope, I WILL grow a full, terrifying mustache and my eyebrows will start dating each other and move in together and create a unified unibrow force-to-be-reckoned-with on top of my eyes if I do not get this hairy situation dealt with every two weeks. So.
 
Like I said, no gas. I chance it, and grab Landon, throw him in the car and head over to get my face hacked down for fear of going "full Greek". If this is not dealt with today, I'm going to have to accept my new fate in life, pick up a flight to Crete, buy a really old fishing boat, smoke lumpy cigarettes and drink tiny cups of coffee all day with all my other old Greek manfriends, and I'm just not ready to do that. Not yet anyway. Give me a couple more years of that fucking unreal parking situation at Avery's school, and I might be a bit more willingly Hope-less (see what I did there) I mean, I love coffee, so.
 
Anyway, we get to the salon 187 minutes early, that's just how I roll, but now I'm in a bit of a pickle, and I have three choices. ONE) Wait in the car. But I can't  because I'm running low on gas AND it's still horrifyingly hot in Vegas so I have to keep the car on. Shit, that's out. TWO) wait outside?! Uh yeah no, I'm melting. Nope. THREE) Take my three-year-old who needs to be sleeping right now (the only time my hair removal specialist- I just made that up, she doesn't really call herself that- could take me was noon) inside the tranquil, peaceful spa and be okay with Landon's russian-techno-Lego-Youtube videos interefering with everyone's microdermabrasians.
 
Option three it is. Thankfully, I've hit the sweet spot of exhaustion with him where he's super tired, but not tired enough to turn into an insane person quite yet, so he's cool and even lets me turn the volume waaay down.
 
So he's happy. I'm sitting, waiting for the remainder of my 35,000 minutes to pass until it's my turn to nakedify my face. In my moment of quiet, I am instantly annoyed by the way the room has been set up. I wouldn't have put that bookcase THERE, I would have put it THERE. Ugh. I look down and see a stack of "free" newspapers, that aren't newspapers at all, but are in fact, spiritual wellness guides, with advice on things like how to stop yourself from over-eating .....ALLLL you gotta do is envision that you are exuding a white light from your body, and all that dark, negative fatty attitude (fatitude?!) will fade away. What's happening. Who wrote this?! I can't tell if the articles are written by Mormons or Wiccans. There's an entire spread dedicated to local healers and psychics. I'm annoyed. I read my horoscope. Now I'm even more annoyed because I don't understand what it means. WHAT THE HELL AM I READING?!
Then I find it.
 
An article entitled, "What Sets You Off?" with a little picture of it's dorky author off to the side of the headline. I come to the realization that this entire page is about not letting little things bother you while I am, presently, being annoyed by every possible thing that could ever annoy anyone simultaneously.
 
I read the first paragraph, start to think, "this dweeb might really be on to something" and start to second guess my unending judgy negativity. I read a little more... oh  my god, is my aura softening? Then:
 
YOU SEE IT?!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
 
"it may annoy you for someONE... But if THEY have been speaking that way all THEIR life, THEY are more likely... because you made THEM aware of THEIR grammatical faux pas... THEIR choice..." blah blah blah
 
This, if you happen to be grammar-challenged, is an excellent display of bad grammar. The nerdy weirdo author of this bizarre article should have used "he" or "she" or "he/she" instead of "they" "their" or "them" because "someONE" is singular.
 
It's maddening.
 
So , in conclusion, the article about not letting something as small as a grammatical error disturb your chi or whatever, in fact disturbed the shit out of my chi with it's grammatical errors. It chopped my chi right in half. Fucking chopped it all up.
 
Anyway, I got through all-a-dat, and now I look like a, albeit annoyed, female once again. Just sitting here, counting the minutes til it's time to roundhouse kick a soccer mom to the face to get a parking spot with my gas-less car at Avery's school.
 
In the meantime, I think I'll see how much white light I can exude to ward off the peanut butter that's callin' my name in the pantry...