Yesterday’s post dealt with ‘memory’ and getting things done. Miss Loving Annie suggested that I get a notepad and write things down. This made me laugh for several reasons.

A few years ago, I decided to get more organized with my life. I began to file things, to  get rid of things I no longer used or wore, threw out things that I thought I needed as keepsakes, etc.

One thing stood out glaringly. As I cleared drawer after drawer throughout the house, I found paper. Lots and lots of paper. Scraps of paper, magazine clippings, envelopes and napkins. Each had some kind of ‘important’ message on them.

Recipes for cakes and cookies, do-it-yourself household tips, book titles that I wanted to check out of the library, phone numbers, websites to be checked out, reminders of meetings at school, or doctor appointments. Oh a few were for Hubs–addresses for him to check out jobs, phone messages, etc. But the majority were mine.

So I went to the store and bought a 5-subject small notepad. I separated papers and put everything into it’s little place. It worked out great. Even in July, if I saw something that would make a great  Christmas gift for someone, it went into the book.

I named it my “Memory”

It went everywhere with me. I was on top of my game. There it was- in my handbag-whenever I needed it.

Then I changed bags.

It was smaller and not all the same things fit into it. So the ‘memory’ was the first thing to go. I kept it on the table beside my bed. Then I cleaned the bedroom and moved my book to the dining room, where I could access it during the day when something came up. Then I cleared that table because we were having company. Where is it now? I don’t know.

I’ve lost my ‘memory’.

I’d like to find it and start using it again, but what is to stop me from repeating the cycle? When I had it around, I actually used it. But when I misplaced it, I went back to my old habit of using scraps so easily that I never realized the loss of the book until I went to library and couldn’t remember the name of the book I wanted, or I had no idea what I wanted to get my son as a gift for Christmas and couldn’t remember the “perfect” thing that I saw in the spring.

What do you do learn a new habit? How do you keep track of things like this? Am I doomed to forever be the woman with a mind like Swiss Cheese?

I’d like my ‘memory’ back!

I got a new vacuum.

It’s about freaking time too. About 15 years ago, a friend gave me his old one when he….um…was ‘going away’ for an extended ‘vacation’. Since he wouldn’t need an apartment, he gave away alot of his belongings. Since my own vacuum was a piece of shit, I was hella happy to get his!

After many years of use and abuse, the vacuum was shot. The bag no longer zipped shut. The bristles of the beater bar were damn near non-existent. The creamy beige color? Uh, was that beige at some time? You’d never know it now.

Last summer, Hubs the Benevolent got me a new one. Actually, we got it at a liquidators. (This translates into refurbished and reboxed) I loved it. It had attachments that the old vac lacked. I could reach the top of draperies –not that I did, but I could if I wanted to. I never knew how much suction the old one had lost. Now, I only vacuumed half of my downstairs before the dirt canister needed to be emptied! Not only that, but the beater bar needed cleaning right away.

You see, Metalmom and Babygirl both have long hair. Babygirl’s friends and Son1’s girlfriend all have long hair. This means that it ends up EVERYWHERE no matter how dilligently we try to keep it in the bathroom or the bedrooms.

The first month was the honeymoon. I faithfully took the bar out to untangle the hair that could burn a rotator belt in no time. And then one day…….

I was in a hurry.

I was careless with the bar. While it was off, I managed to lose the ball bearings that help it roll. It no longer worked.     Since it was refurbished, there was no warranty. Since it had been a discontinued model, there were no replacement parts readily available…even from the manufacturers!

So there it sat, in the corner of my room, waiting for ‘Big Trash Day’ when it could be carted away. And that day came and went. But I forgot to put it out. There it sat, mocking me with its glorious attachments. It taunted me with it’s unused power. It reminded me daily of my carelessness.

But I had kept the old vac. I don’t know why, but I did. And it was recalled into service. Only Old Faithful now lacked a certain vitality. Things just weren’t the same between us. He could no longer get the job done. We drifted further and further apart.

Wednesday night, Hubs surprised me and we bought a new one. He’s a handsome devil, I’ll give him that. (The vacuum…..well, Hubs is too, but I’m talking about the vac here!) It is every bit as strong as the other. It’s lines are sleek and younger looking. It came with a warranty! I can get replacement parts easily by calling a toll-free number!

Somehow, I can’t seem to bring myself to put Old Faithful out to the curb. I think I will tuck him into a corner of the basement. Soon, it won’t hurt so much to see him wasting space.

Soon, I’ll be ready to say a permanent goodbye.

‘Member I told you that work is being done on my street? Well, it’s still happening. In front of my house, we are getting our water lines replaced from the street to each house and then they will repave the street itself. They are currently working about half a block up the street.

On the side of the house, the lines are being run from pole to pole by Verizon for the VIOS lines. This has been going on for the past week and a half. I see their trucks one day and there are four or five men busy as hell pulling wires and going up in the cherry pickers. Today I saw a single truck.

This guy must be a union man. It must be against OSHA rules for anyone to work outdoors on a day as pretty as today.

First, he did this.

Then he did this.

By 2:30 pm, this was all that was happening out there.

It must be nice……

Taking Babygirl to the bus at 3:00am was not the most fun thing in the world. I found out that there were no seatbelts in the bus (strike one).  Band director and leader of this trip was nowhere to be seen –even after acting like an asshole regarding questions about the trip ,which he didn’t address until twelve hours before departure!(strike two). And among the crowd of waiting teenagers and bleary-eyed parents, no one seemed to know what the fuck was going on! (strike three)

Since I had taken Tug’s advice (breathe and drink) I was more than a little bit angry and I will admit, I started to make my feelings known. (Don’t worry-Hubs told me to ’shut up-voices carry’ LOL) Finally I couldn’t take it anymore and since Babygirl seemed to be calm and patient, we said our good-byes and went home.

12:00 noon-(ish)- I got a text message. They had reached New York. I asked if she had seen anything cool yet and her reply scared me. “OMG! I saw a gang of teenagers attack an Old Country Buffet!!”

Excuse me, WHAT??? Oh my God! What kind of area are they driving through??

Then it dawned on me….they had stopped for breakfast. (Tense much Mom?)

2pm - They have reached Niagara Falls. I tell her to ‘take pictures and don’t fall in.’ She said “Don’t worry, I’ll jump.” Damn little smart ass is not making me feel better!!

7pm -They are at the Royal Victoria Theater to see a stage production of Dirty Dancing (Nobody puts Babygirl in the corner!) I already miss her. I had to put the leftovers away myself.

11:30pm-I sat up and waited. Really, I tried not to fall asleep. Imagine my surprise when my cell phone (which was beside my head on the night table) rang and startled me from a deep slumber! “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. I just wanted to say good night and I love you. I’ll call back in the morning. Love you!”

I hope tomorrow is easier!

 PART I

 I have FINALLY gotten the pictures of the Friday Fiasco downloaded. And here we now have the ongong saga of the burn.

This is the sad strap. Near the point of the arrow, we have actual hole. The rest is melted sash. This was  after the strap was fixed.(See the hasty stitches in white?)

This is my lovely daughter Babygirl. Isn’t she beautiful? I love the way she looks when she’s not wearing black Chuck Taylor Converse sneakers and torn jeans. She cleans up well! ( Like her mama!) Just pay no mind to the mess in the background!

And these? This is a picture of the future. It’s so bright ya gotta wear shades!

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PART II

Good news everybody!  Well, it is for me. Starting next week, the needles into my spine will begin and continue for the following six weeks. Whoop-dee-fuckin-doo!! But I got a promise that since they will be done on Tuesdays, I will be okay to drink myself into a coma, dance on bars, and brawl in the alleys  by the time Friday rolls around! So that means parties with my girls!!! (And you know who you are!!)

The unthinkable happened.

Before Babygirl could come running through the door after softball to shower and dress for the Soph Hop, I looked at her dress. Hm… a few wrinkles. As long as I’m ironing her brothers’ shirts, I might as well just touch up the dress too.

I pulled out the ironing board and plugged in the iron. I sipped my coke and put down the cup……and spilled it!!!

The icy cold  tasty beverage crept closer and closer to the dress but I snatched it up and threw it on the floor. Crisis averted! No soda made it onto the white dress. I cleaned up the soda and lay the dress out to iron it.

The satin straps were scrunched up from hanging on the hangar. I started there.

But I never checked the setting. The strap melted!!  

Yes, ladies and gentlemen! Metalmom burned the dress TWO HOURS before she had to leave! I called the dress store to see if they had another in her size……no such luck. What will I do??

I cried. I called Mommy. (Mommy had no idea, other than to suggest that I run out and buy her a new one.) Now I am sobbing. Since Babygirl is going with my best friend’s son, I called her. She spoke the four most beautiful words anyone can say to their best friend….“I’ll be right there.”

She took off the offending strap, flipped it over and sewed it back on. If you didn’t know it was there, you wouldn’t notice it unless you were looking very closely. I heaved a huge sigh of relief. Major crisis averted!

I took pictures. Of the dress, of the burn, of my baby and her Handsome. Yes, I did, because I needed proof of my ineptitude. I was going to show you all.

She borrowed my camera and it’s  with her right now being filled with her memories. So I guess no pictures will get posted until Monday. 

How did Babygirl react to this situation? She looked at the dress and began to cry. And I started crying again. And then she said “It’s okay Mom. It isn’t too bad.” and with those words she began to comfort me! As we hugged it out, she turned her head and whispered into my ear, “You are NOT allowed to iron my prom gown!”

Well, DUH!

The weather was beautiful. The temperature was just right. I wanted the windows open to let in the fresh springtime air.

I opened the drapes. They were dusty. I decided that I should wash them. I had no babies here so this was the perfect opportunity. I returned to open the windows and then I noticed that the glass was dirty. A winter’s worth of dust and Hub’s smoking,(yes, he still does that….but let’s not go there!) had gathered on the panes. I needed to wash them because it detracted from the beauty of the sunshine.

Well, as long as the indoor windows were getting cleaned I may as well clean the storm windows and the screens. It would only take an extra few minutes but it would pay off in the end. Hmmm….I have to remove the blinds so that I can get to the storm windows. That’s okay, I’ll soak them in the downstairs bath tub. A simple soak, dry and hang them back up. No prob.

In order to get to the brackets holding the blinds, I have to move a hanging plant. As long as the bathroom is steamy, I may as well treat the plant with a little humidity. And since I have a few clippings, I’ll repot them (as long as the plant is down)

After cleaning the screens, my bathtub was covered in a black film that wouldn’t just rinse away. It needed to be scrubbed. On my hands and knees, I cleaned the tub until it gleamed.

I was a busy little bee. All of the tasks got done. One by one, my windows were returned to sparkling clarity and non-dusty shine. I was proud of myself. I got it all done with no interference from anyone.

My house smelled fresh. The sunshine dappled through the trees and into my living room. The curtains looked brighter. My house looked more cheerful (or maybe it was my attitude) I sat down.

I sat down.

I sat down.

I couldn’t fucking get back up!

My back had locked up. So there I sat until Hubs came home. He went back out and picked up dinner. We ate burgers and then I ate Percocet. And Advil. And did I mention Percocet?

Today, me and my buddy Perc (as I like to call him) just hung out in my bedroom. We watched television and laughed at the ho’s on Maury. We also saw something about Pope Benny, (but I don’t quite remember what it was) Later, we watched the Hillary/Obama debate (but we didn’t understand a word of it, even after twenty minutes.)

Oh yeah, and I called the doctor. Steroid injections will begin again. *Sigh*

All because I was enjoying the weather.

I don’t know about you, but my mama always told me that when you say you’re sorry, you should mean it. In order to mean it, you should fully intend not to do or say the offending thing again.

Am I right? Did I miss something? Was my mom lying? Does she now owe me an apology?

I won’t name any names, but this is getting on my last motherfucking nerve. Someone tells me that they will clean their room and it only gets halfway done. When I confront the offender, I get “I’m sorry.”

Someone will move a garbage bag in front of the kitchen door, in order to leave the house. Why wasn’t it taken out? “I’m sorry.”

Someone spills sugar on the countertop in their mad rush to leave the house in the morning. Do they clean it up? “I’m sorry”

Wet towels lay on the floor. Dishes sit next to the sink. We’re late for something again. The door is not pulled shut all the way. One cookie is left in a bag on the table. The potato chips are not clipped closed.

The list goes on and on.

This isn’t every day. This isn’t all at one time. But even one thing a day, tends to snowball. I become “the Nag” yet again.

I don’t want to be THAT mom. I don’t want to be THAT wife.

Why am I put into this situation time after time? If I say nothing, doesn’t that imply that I’m okay with being treated this way? If I say nothing, doesn’t that imply that it is okay to live like animals?

ARRRGGGHH!!!!

Frustration seems an inadequate word to use about how I feel on this subject.

I’d say I’m sorry for venting all of this here, but then I’d be lying to you. You know I’ll bitch and moan again.

I’m sorry - I don’t live in paradise.

Three things:

1.  Don’t start drinking hard liquor  at noon. It gets harder to follow instructions. (And it makes walking kind of hard when you’re doing laundry.)

2.  I don’t know who loves Babygirl’s boyfriend more right now, she or me. He fixed quite a few glitches in my computer and so far , so good.  I’m keeping my fingers crossed. I wanted to catch up on a few more things that I didn’t do today but……

3.  ……I went to the eye doctor and she dilated my pupils. (If I had known that was going to happen, I would have just smoked the weed instead of drinking !) When I get this done, it tends to stay with me for HOURS! Therefore, I am having trouble seeing my monitor clearly. I currently have my nose touching the screen and it’s not very comfortable!

 Oh,well. What can ya do? I think I’ll go to bed soon and pretend that Monday never happened.

Recently, Hubs got new phones  for Babygirl and me and had them added to his business account. This was considered the best thing since …..well, since ever. Babygirl would get unlimited texting (which she really needed-or so she said) I on the other hand, would get unlimited use on the weekend (Now I can call Mr Fabulous and Turnbaby on Sunday nights!)

He picked out new phones and surprised us with them. “Surprised” isn’t quite the word I would use. They were “functional”. (Code for UGLY!) Now, I personally didn’t complain. I won’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Babygirl, on the other  hand, stated flatly that she would not be seen even holding this monstrosity. Daddy took them back and got us pretty phones. These new ones needed a plan different from the plan he had gotten. So he got another plan too.

My new number is a different area code so we waited to see if there would be roaming charges. However, Babygirl got right into the groove of using her mad texting skillz. Even when her dominant hand was in a splint, she never missed a beat. The texting goes on before school, after school, during break at work, and interspersed through homework time.

The bill came yesterday. Of course our provider fucked it up. (I won’t use the name but it begins with ’spr’ and ends with ‘int’ ) They billed us for the original plan (Just Hubs-for business). And they billed us for a plan compatable with the ‘ugly phones’.  And they billed us for the current plan for the pretty phones. (Following me?) Over a THOUSAND DOLLARS!!!

After we cleaned up the shit in our pants, hubs jumped on the phone to have a civilized conversation with customer service. (I would have made merchant marines blush) Now listen to this!  They were expecting the call! NO SHIT! Our account was red-flagged “expect these folks to rip us a new one!” Anyway….it was fixed. No harm-no foul. We spoke to a rep that spoke English clearly and who dealt with us efficiently. What are the odds of that?

Now here’s an interesting tidbit. Babygirl sent almost 8,000 text messages. EIGHT THOUSAND!!!  Are we bad parents? We didn’t tell her that the bill was straightened out. We showed her the bill for a grand and let her shit herself too.  Did she? NO.

“Daddy, you’re just gonna have to call them up. I distinctly asked for unlimited texting and it should be in the package. Fix it.”

And she proceded to text her girlfriend. Did Hubs flinch? Of course not! We’re talking about Daddy’s girl here!