Some People Have No Class

I went to my Cousin B's Bridal Shower on Saturday.  Sarah went as well and apparently thought that I was her BFF.  Every time I moved to another room or chair, somehow she ended up right next to me.  At one point I was holding my Cousin C's baby and Sarah was sitting next to me just salivating to hold him and I hear her tell someone "I want one of these.  I want one so bad.  That's next on my list so Eric better just watch out!  Haha!"  Sometimes I wonder if Eric even knows what he's getting into with this one.

When Cousin B was opening her shower gifts Sarah had a comment for every single gift which she would stage whisper to me because, of course, she was practically sitting on my lap.  Every.  Single.  Gift.  I don't care if Sarah added a hot air popcorn popper to her registry just last night because her's burned out last weekend.  I don't care if she wants a bobber cooler like B's because she has so many places to use one.  Yes, I'm aware that the dishes B and her Fiance picked out are nice because I HAVE EYES AND I CAN SEE THEM RIGHT THERE, and I don't give a shit that they're similar to the ones that Sarah picked out.  I get that Sarah's excited about her wedding.  I do, but this particular Bridal Shower wasn't about her.  This was B's day to be the center of attention.  I'll be able to see what Sarah registered for when it comes time to buy them a gift.  My other Cousin K, who is getting married three weeks after B, was sitting on the other side of the room watching B open her gifts and giving the appropriate "That's nice" comment and nothing else.  Because she has class.

Finally after the shower when we were all saying our good-byes Sarah asked me if I would be around tomorrow (that being Sunday) because she will call me to discuss the girls dresses for her wedding.  I figure I need to just get this over with and told her that would be fine.  She never called me yesterday.  My Mother asked me last night via text message if Sarah and I got everything worked out.  I replied that Sarah never called me and my Mother decided to tell me that I needed to call Sarah then.  Really?  Why on EARTH do I need to call her?  It's not my wedding that needs to be planned/coordinated/designed.  I would never expect anyone else to call me to discuss an event that is entirely my thing.  I don't get it.  I really don't.

I had made the mistake of riding to and from the shower with my Mother.  Luckily Ki was with us so that curbed a lot of the conversation, but my Mother still found a way to get it in there that I need to put away money for the girls dresses so that I can buy what Sarah wants them to have.  I don't know how to get it across to my Mother that I have $0.00 extra a paycheck to put away.  M and I are currently living paycheck to paycheck with maybe $200 in the bank after bills are paid.  With two older cars that seem to need work here and there pretty consistently, two teenagers who eat me out of house and home,  and trying to get us to a position so that when the baby comes that we WON'T be living paycheck to paycheck so badly - I have no money to put towards dresses that are going to cost about $120 each plus alterations, and that they won't wear again.  I simply don't have it.  Not now.  Not next week. Not next month.  I know that this is an important day to Sarah and Eric, but it's not my important day.  They didn't go out on a limb to do anything special for my wedding party.  As a matter of fact I heard later that snide comments were made about the fact that I didn't even have a "proper" wedding party.  (These were told to me after the fact so I'm not entirely sure who said it or what was really said - only that it was implied that Eric, Sarah and or Mark were the commentator.) The way I look at it - I have something coming that is more important to me than their wedding, and that something (someone) comes first.  

Mardi Gras

I recently read a blog post by Mrs. Small Soldiers about her Mardi Gras experience this year which took me back about 10 years (shut up) when four young women decided to take a road trip...

Cheryl called me up one January afternoon and asked if I wanted to go to New Orleans for Mardi Gras.  Well.. Duh!  (We won't get into how I thought that Mardi Gras was in March - I should be blond at times - and it wasn't until about 4 days before we were to leave that I realized that I was a month behind.  Talk about scrambling!)  On a Wednesday evening after work Cheryl met me at my apartment in Addison, IL.  By 7 pm Toni and Kristen had joined us and we were on our way, Bitches!!  Mardi Gras or BUST!

We had decided that we would just drive straight through from Addison, IL to New Orleans, LA.  We took turns sleeping and driving although if I remember correctly I didn't sleep much.  My part of sleeping was supposed to be when we drove through a small portion of Arkansas.  No offense to anyone living in Arkansas but that place creeped us out big time!  We stopped for gas and there were some creepy toothless overall wearing guys just staring at us the whole time.  Scenes from every horror movie about road trips entered my brain and lodged there until New Orleans.  We finally pulled into New Orleans at about 8 am on Thursday morning, and our hotel about 9.  We crashed for about 5 hours and woke up to find Cheryl gone.

Apparently she'd connected with an old boss of hers who had moved to NO and went to meet him for lunch.  From there she connected with Kye (now her husband) who she had met... I'm not 100% sure how she met Kye actually...  Anyway - she didn't tell any of us this so we were completely horrified to find her missing and frantically calling her cell phone.  I think we were minutes away from calling the police when she waltzed through the door with Kye in tow.

We headed to Bourbon Street to get our Mardi Gras on.  HOLY SHIT!  I have never, and I mean NEVER, had such a fantastic time in my life!  There were a few WTF moments like the girl on a balcony giving all the guys a show like none other - think XXX and MUCH worse than just flashing some boob, or the time we lost Kristen, but for the most part people were friendly, the atmosphere was one of fun and having a good time, and the drinks were flowing!  We spent much of our time at Pat O'Briens on Bourbon Street where they have a waterfall of fire and the Hurricanes will knock you on your ass.

We lost Kristen when she decided to go home with a cute boy who ended up being an RA for Tulane University.  She had to do the walk of shame the next morning through the dorm looking like ass.  She didn't know where she was and worse she couldn't remember what hotel we were at!  She told us later that she was sure she was going to die in the cab on the way back!

I also was sure that we were in trouble while on Bourbon Street when Kristen wanted a specific set of beads a guy had. Of course, he wanted her to earn them - which at the time neither of us had a problem with, but ask me to earn beads now and my response will be "I don't want them that badly"!  She briefly flashed him and wanted the beads.  He decided that these specific beads required a longer flash time.  I wasn't so sure that was a good idea but Kristen was balls to the walls drunk and saw no problem.  She flashed him.  For an extended length of time.  Think of this for a moment:  You're in a street that is PACKED with drunk (mostly) college aged guys and you're standing there with your shirt up around your neck.  The crowd started to gawk and shove forward towards us.  I couldn't move.  I could hardly get my arm up to my shoulder.  I finally grabbed Kristen by the wrist, and plowed through the guys who were starting to get a little grabby.  We got out of there with no problem but it was scary for a minute.  Something could have happened to her, to us, and I'm not sure anyone would have seen or stopped it.

Of course we also did one daytime excursion on Saturday before we left.  We waked through St. Peter's Square, Toni and Kristen got their fortunes read, and we had beignets and cafe a lait at Cafe Du Monde.  It was a FANTASTIC trip and I will remember it for a lifetime.

On the way back to Illinois we decided that we'd break it up into two days instead of driving straight through.  We stopped in Memphis for the night.  The next morning before we left we visited the home of The King.  Elvis!  We toured Graceland.  That was a very interesting home.  In one of the rooms there was green carpet - on the walls!

Every year for Mardi Gras I wish I could go back to New Orleans.  Or even visit Baton Rouge, LA or Mobile, AL.  Both of those cities are said to have Mardi Gras celebrations that rival those of New Orleans.  Although I'll tell you something - If I ever get a chance to go to Rio de Janeiro for Carnival?  I'd sell my kids to do so...

Flat Stanley

Have your kids ever made this little paper wonder or has your family ever received this character?!  We had a visitor this week and his name is Flat Stanley.  

(Flat Stanley is an educational tool used in some grade schools.  My kids never did a Flat Stanley project but we did receive it from Isaac when he was in 2nd grade in Indiana.  The student colors a picture of a little man however they like.  They cut out Flat Stanley and send him to family and friends one at a time with the request to take Flat Stanley out and about their town and take photos of him along the way.  The photos then get sent back to the student along with the Flat Stanley and the student passes Flat along to the next relative or friend.  The idea is that the student learns about other areas of the country through Flat's travels.  Kind of a neat idea, really.)

My Aunt K has four nephews and has received Flat four times.  She put on The Book a request for people to help her by printing out Flat Stanley, taking photos of him in their town and sending the photos back to her by the end of February. I decided this would be fun.

When Isaac sent us Flat years ago, he didn't really do too much.  We only had him for about a week and if I remember correctly we didn't have much planned for that week.  I know he went to Karate class with Ki and out around our apartment complex, but other than that I'm afraid Flat didn't really get much travel out of our apartment.

Flat Stanley had a more to do this time around:

 Flat Stanley, You're such a good helper at work!

You're the perfect size to fix my printer!  Thank you!

Silly Flat Stanley!  You're too young to drive!

Flat, you're such a ladies man!  Having a sleepover with the girls?!  I don't know about this...

Flat Stanley got to go out to eat at Pal Joey's!  (A really good pizza place in West Chicago.) 

Flat tried to make friends with Bella the Weasel, but she tried to eat his head.  

I'm not sure Flat is a fan.

Flat was a big hit at Best Buy with Li!

For being such a good helper with Li, she took him out to dinner with her and Zac.

And Zac had a Flat Stanley friend this week also!  Imagine that!

Both Flat Stanley's wanted to pay the check... Such nice paper boys they are!

And those were our corny adventures with Flat Stanley.  

Mama Drama

One would think that after years of my Mother being, for lack of a better word I'm going to say insensitive, to me and my feelings I would have built a wall against it, right?  Apparently not.


I've been wanting to talk to my future SIL about the fact that she has not discussed with me anything in regards to my children being in her wedding, or more importantly, the budget I can afford for their dresses.  I've drafted several emails about these subjects and have yet to send any of them because they take a bitchy tone.  I get angry as I write the email and I end up coming off as an uber-bitch.  That's not my intention.  So I've decided that I need to talk to Sarah in person.  I simply have yet to do so.


Until now but, I still don't know how to go about it.  I was at breakfast with Jessie yesterday morning when I got a call from Sarah.  We don't "talk" so I was surprised, but I was also in a noisy restaurant and I was busy so I forwarded her call to voice mail.  Her message said something about "cannot believe I didn't talk to you about the girls being in my wedding" and then something else about dresses and fittings.  To be honest I tuned her out because I really don't care.  BUT I started thinking - why is it that a week after I was talking to my Mother about Sarah's lack of communication regarding my children's involvement in her wedding would Sarah suddenly call me?  I figured that my Mother had to have said something to either Eric or Sarah herself to prompt this call. 

I was right.  


Just today I saw on Facebook a post from Sarah about finding the perfect wedding dress and how beautiful she felt and that she couldn't have done it without 5 women.  One of those women was my Mother.  MY Mother.  The one who couldn't come with Jessie and I when I was looking for my wedding dress because she had errands to run before book club.  I cannot tell you how much this bothers me. 

So now Sarah is calling me because she wants the girls to buy their dresses because she needs to get fittings scheduled.  Honestly - My opinion about this is if she wants my kids in her wedding, she can buy their dresses.  


I'm tired of being made to feel bad and I'm washing my hands of this whole thing.

United States Postal Service Is For Shit

United States Postal Service

If you ever read an article like the link above and feel badly for the state of the United States Postal Service I say don’t.  The US Postal Service has been claiming for a while now that they’re going bankrupt and most of what I’ve read blames it on technology.  Whether that technology is email and text messaging or Social Media such as Facebook and Twitter is beside the point.  I would like to put out there my two cents as to why the US Postal Service is going bankrupt:  They suck.

Take for example the fact that there’s no accountability.  I can’t complain to anyone about the fact that the mail carrier who has my office on his route is completely lazy and an ass.  For example, today both my boss and I were in the front office – she was at her desk and I was at the copier, both locations highly visible from the front door – and he just dumped the mail into our mailbox without trying to open the door.  Unlike a typical residential mailbox, our office mailbox can only be opened by a key.  A key that only one person in the office has.  That person was not in the office at the time our mail was “deposited”.  That is an inconvenience in itself, but we also had mail that needed to be picked up.  Mail that contained bill payments.  Now someone in the office, read me, has to go to the post office to post the mail.  I wasn't planning on going to the post office today because I was just there on Friday checking our PO Boxes.  We’re trying to cut down on mileage and trips – this doesn't help with that as I will now have to make two trips to the post office this week.

Let me give you another scenario:

Around Christmas time my boss got a piece of mail that was about the size and shape of a Christmas Card.  She noticed the side of the envelope had been sliced open.  Upon further investigation she determined that someone – she believes it to be her mail carrier – sliced open her envelope, sliced open two other smaller envelopes within the original envelope and removed a handmade German ornament being sent to her as a thank you for a wedding gift.  The fact that the envelope was not ripped open but sliced open indicates the act was deliberate.  Plus the fact that two smaller envelopes were also sliced open.  Had the envelope been damaged at the sorting facility it would have been placed into a plastic envelope with the USPS “Sorry we damaged your mail” tag ling on it.  This had no such plastic.

My boss went to three different post offices only to eventually be told she needed to call someone at a fourth office.  When she called that fourth office she was transferred to several different people before finally landing with someone who “claimed” to be able to help her.  She spoke with that person two times and now can’t get them to answer her calls anymore.  Either they’re “out sick” or “on vacation” or just plain “busy” and will not take her calls nor will they return messages. 

And her hands are tied.  There’s nothing else she can do.  She’s attempted to contact someone in authority at the postal service, even going so far as to contact some main branch in DC, but because her claim is less than a certain amount (I don’t know what amount the minimum is) they claim that they “can’t help her”.  She’s aware that the gift she had stolen was not expensive, but the fact of the matter is – a government employee stole from her and she can’t do ANYTHING about it.  They’ve gotten away with it.

In my opinion the US Postal Service is going out of business because they’re incompetent.  If I have a letter to send to someone I’ll email them.  If they don’t have email I’ll send it Fed Ex.

Obsessive

I have a sneaking suspicion that one of two things is going to happen in the next few months.  One – I will bore each and every one of my 7 followers to death.  Or Two – I will drive myself bonkers.  I suspect one of these will take place because I’m completely and totally freaking out that I’m going to miscarry again, and it’s all I can think about.  Therefore, It’s all that I can think of to blog about.  

“What about the two teenagers who occupy your home?” You may ask.

To which my reply is “Teenagers?  What teenagers?  There’s someone else living in my home?”

“You silly woman!  Of course there are!  They’re the whole reason you started this blog in the first place!”  You may say.

To which I respond with a “There are OTHER people besides me in my home?!  OTHER people who have thoughts and feelings and are permanent fixtures in my life?!  Nope.  There’s no one but me.  Me and my not-even-a-fetus-but-hopefully-it-will-be-soon-and-my-body-doesn’t-reject-it-or-I-may-just-lose-my-shit pregnancy.”

Yep.  That pretty much sums me up right about now.  No one and nothing else matters which is probably why M has stopped responding to my texts today.

When I miscarried before I was woken up from a deep sleep (I think it was a deep sleep because it was 3am or somewhere close to that time) with cramps across my stomach.  I thought they were poop cramps so I went to the bathroom, did my thing, and returned to bed.  The entire time I was in the bathroom I was cramping. 

I think that was when I miscarried.  I realized much later that poop cramps don’t wake you up with massive pain in your abdomen.  You’re just… uncomfortable.

So when I got the stomach discomfort going on today before I had to head to the bathroom I decided to text M about it.  He finds me less than amusing when I’m obsessing about stuff.