I shouldn't be taking the time out of my day to blog.  I have so much to do.  The weekend has been so horribly hectic.  I'm still in rush mode, and I can't shake it.  The weekend started with Screwboy taking his first day off in almost three weeks to attend the fourteen year old's birthday party.  Just let me say this where I can say it without hurting anyone's feelings, because well, if you're fourteen and reading my blog, you shouldn't be.  But that's a whole other post.  What I need to get off my chest is, for all you people who have successfully seen a female in your family past her fourteenth year on this earth without shipping her off to boarding school, you are forever my hero.

A quick rundown of my mismatched modern family... all that I'm wiling to share, anyway... collectively, through birth, adoption, marriage, or just plain finding'em on the side of the road, Screwboy and I are basically responsible for anywhere from three to five kids.  Not all are his or mine, and not all of them live in this house.  I love each of them as if they were mine.  I treat them as mine.  And that's all that matters. 

Oh yeah.. the fourteen year old's birthday party... very lowkey.. not a big deal but that's how she wanted it.  We gave her a choice.  She could have a huge blowout and minimal gifts or a small get together with more gifts.  She wanted the gifts!  (She gets that from me)  But, because there were so many other things to do, it made the day spastic.  When he's only in town for two days in one month, there's so much he has to get done.

Then, part of my gift to her was to take her and her friend to Knoxville shopping for the day on Saturday.  She wanted to spend the $200 she got for her birthday.  Now you see, living in nowhwereville, you gotta drive to get to somewhere good to shop!  Knoxville is about an hour away.  No big deal except I woke up tired.  I drove down there, and it took her about half an hour to blow her money.  She thought about pouting on how little she got with that until she saw I wasn't in the mood for it.  So she ended up fine.  They had a good day.  And then they convinced me how awesome it would be to end her birthday celebration with being allowed to go to see a movie with two boys! 

I'm a push over I guess.  Ok, at fourteen, they "go" nowhere with two boys, but I did drop them off and pick them up which made my whole day last until around 10pm on about two hours of sleep.  Do you know how glad I am that it's over?

And today I wake up with a zit on my forehead almost directly between my eyes.  I'm telling you it was overexposure to teenagers.  That had to be it.  But my skin has been doing something funky lately.  It was starting to look really good again... refreshed.  But lately it's been looking all pale and pastey again.  I've been trying my best to take care of it.  I KNOW I read an article somewhere that said something about oily skin and no toner in the winter.  But the lady at the Lacome counter looked at me like I'd grown two heads when I asked her about it.  So I've gone back to using it.  I'm already tired of worrying about aging, and it just started happening.

Being around young girls all day depressed me.  I wouldn't be a teenager again if I could, but it only made me think more on how quickly life is moving forward.  I'm happy, don't get me wrong... but I'm not liking gray hairs popping up, or blemished dull skin, or saggy arms... brittle nails... and I'm going to stop there or I'll make myself cry.

I think it's amazing how little we all know really know about each other on here, and yet we know certain things so well.  IML hit it dead on when she said Spring Fever for me.  I have it bad.  She might not know how I drink my coffee, but she can read between the lines on my blog.

Speaking of blogs, Screwboy and I finally started the one we've been talking about forever.  We wanted to see if our writing can compliment each other's so we're gonna give it a go.  So far, I'm thinking he's not going to have much to say until this crazy work schedule of his dies down.  Or at least when he does post something, I'm making no guarantees it will make any sense.  How often does he make sense, anyway, right... :)

It's been a while.  Things are just so hectic.  Normally even when I don't blog I find the time to read my favorite blogs here, but I haven't even been doing that lately.  I miss it, too.  Usually I'll find at least one of you who manages to say the perfect thing to get me back on my feet, and most of the time you never know it.  Maybe I'd be in a better mood if I had been reading.

You'd think I'd have everything around here in perfect order since I've been too busy to blog, but that could not be further from the truth.  I keep saying I'm going to get it all done, but it's just big talk.  There are things around here I just can't do right now, and Screw Boy can't help me because he's out of town for the entire month.  He has this Friday off for a birthday, and that's it.  He says he'll help then.  No way I'm letting him on his ONE day here.

I had words with my nosey neighbor a couple days ago.  She's afraid of me now.. I'm sure of it.  I haven't even told anyone about it.  I told my mom.  She laughed.  I hate nosey people.  If she wants to know the ins and outs of my life she can come read about it here on Motime.  I mean it's not like I'm a private person.  I just don't like people who are nosey without invitations.

And then last night, my new neighbor came to the door to use the phone.  Apparently he just moved into the duplex across the street behind the house.  No one has lived there until now.  He said he has an automatic door lock and he went outside and the wind blew the door shut.  I'd have laughed at him, but I won't tell you how many times I've done that same thing since moving in here.  So he calls about five people trying to find the guy that has his other key.  And then finally he tells the last person he calls that he can get in through the window with a screwdriver.  They agree to bring him one.  After he hung up, I guess I was feeling bad because before I could stop myself I said, "You spent thirty minutes calling people on my phone, but you couldn't ask me for a screwdriver?"  He laughed and said he didn't think of it.  He seems to be pretty young... don't know.  He was nice enough.  He thanked me, and went home to wait for the screwdriver.

Life has only been that interesting around here.  Maybe that's why I haven't blogged.  I think I'll stop this boring post now and just go catch up on the reading.

MARCH 5, 2007 - Happy Birthday, Sweetheart

You get on my nerves so bad with your dry humor and goofyness.  But you never get your feelings hurt when I turn up the radio to drown you out when I've had enough.

You laugh AT me... a lot.

You bought fish and put them in my tank.  They murdered all of mine and have continued to grow out of control.

You taught her the "pull my finger" thing... and have left me to explain it to everyone in public.

You're so stubborn that sometimes you won't admit I'm right even when you know I am... just because you know I am.

You buy ugly tennis shoes.

You eat ONE popcorn kernel at a time, and it drives me crazy.

You stick your ice cold feet on my legs.

It takes you longer to do your hair than it does me to do mine.

You procrastinate worse than anyone I've ever known.

You can't drive.  And you certainly can't drive under eighty miles an hour.

You have great taste in clothing.  You just can't match'em.

You say you're not a picky eater, but you are.

I think you're more addicted to chocolate than I am.

I can't sleep.  Imagine that.  I'm ok with it.  I won't fight it.  I'll just go to bed when I know I can finally rest, I'll set the clock so that I don't sleep too long, and then I'll try again tomorrow night.I know why.  It's because I get things on my mind, and I can't shut it down.  They're not always bad things, either.  Much of the time it's just the ever growing list of things I need to get done.  I certainly wouldn't be the first adult to complain about not having enough hours in the day. 

I want to move the fish tank.  Screwboy would kill me if I tried to move it without his help, but if I could find the damned tubing to drain it, I would have it moved by morning.  I frustrate him with this constant frenzied activity, and I know sometimes he totally disagrees when I plan something like that, but in the end, I think he's always thought it wasn't a bad idea, after all.... mostly.

Last night I let a bunch of snobby witch prep mothers intimidate me at gymnastics class.  And I'm not sure why.  I don't want to look like them.  I don't want anything they have.  I could not be happier with my life.  I suppose if I envy anything it would be how they always look so calm and put together.  How do they do that?  WHY would they do that?  Who takes the time to perfect every single highlighted hair and dress in preppy Prada just to rush a kid to gym class right before they rush home to make dinner??  I'm sure some of them were rushing in straight from work and still in their professional attire, but I still wanted to smack'em over the head with their little Coach bags and see if I could bring up a knot  to match that rich shade of red on their botoxed lips. 

Me?  I looked the way I always look, frazzled... dashing in with the five year old doing ballerina moves around me while I fight desperately not to trip over her... dressed in whichever pair of jeans I could find that looked the cleanest and whatever warm shirt that would cover any spots that I might have found on'em.  Nothing but my keys and cell in hand.  I guess if I missed a single thing about the outside world it would be that.  The obligation to make myself presentable every day.  Because, you see, when I'm this busy, if I'm not forced to do it, I won't. 

I used to be one of them, though.  Everything had to be so perfect all the time.  And I remember thinking that if I just didn't have to work so many hours the house would always be clean, the laundry always done and put away... the dryer is NOT extra closet space.  I used to carry only the cutest bags and wear the most attractive heels.  Now I'm lucky if my wallet matches, if I have one at all, and if I don't forget and leave the house in slippers.  And this is how we women get a bad rep, huh.  This is why men start complaining about how we "let ourselves go".  It's not that easy to explain.  Here goes:  There aren't enough hours in the day to complete what I have to do everyday.  You're lucky if I shower.

Having said that, though, why do you have to be a career woman in order to have a reason to pretty up, right?  No one makes us shower every morning only to put on fresh pjs, right?  We do this to ourselves. 

But then, when we have a million things to do every day that will require items such as, furniture polish, floor cleaner, bleach, macaroni and cheese... why would we spend two hours on hair, makeup, and wardrobe? 

So I don't have to impress clients or appear to be intelligent and in control.  I don't have to walk around with an air of authority and confidence in my abilities to perform my duties in the workplace.  (Besides Belle would have me for lunch if I tried that crap with her.)

But why can't I buy that Kate Spade bag I'm dying for just because I don't "need" it to carry to work?  Why can't I carry it to the grocery store...

...or better yet, to gymnastics class so I can be a witch prep mom, too?